University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

—Evening. Hannibal's army halting. A grove and garden surrounding a ruined villa.
Enter Silanus.
Sil.
Poor ruined walls! I half could moralize
Over your graceful desolation—ask
What blessings Hannibal has brought as yet
To those who once did own you, gliding thus
Like a magician o'er the land by night—
And truly yon faint-humming multitude
Stands in the twilight like a spectral host—
This, and more questions I could ask of you,
Were I not more inclined, just now, to sleep.
Enter Adherbal.
Now thou art come to say we march again,
Because I just had found the couch of moss
That suited me, and just the glimpse I sought
Of moonlit sky, to shine upon my dreams,
Betwixt those broken columns. Now be this
My last forced march with Hannibal! Once safe
In Metapontum, there I mean to stay,
Bathe thrice a day, and never mount mule more.

Adh.
I'll mount thee on an elephant instead.
I know thee better than to think thou'lt miss
The meeting of the brothers, that's so near.
But thou may'st doze a moment till we learn
What news Maharbal and his squadrons bring.
Already they're returning. Hearken! Hear'st thou
Their jingling bridles and their muffled tramp
In yonder grassy hollow? Here they come!
Enter Maharbal and cavalry at a little distance.
Prompt and successful ever! Ha! Maharbal!

Mah.
[Dismounting and approaching.]
This bold new consul will scarce tread, methinks,
So closely on our heels a third time! Well,
I grudge not the small trouble of his schooling,
Just for the pleasure of this capture. Come!
Let's see the villain's face. Lead him before me.

Mutines is led in as a prisoner.
Adh.
Ha! we salute thee.

Mah.
Here's a sight, indeed,
For honest eyes! What, not content, base cur,
With selling fame and faith at Agrigentum,
That thou must needs carry thy shameless front
Into the field against us? I am glad,
Ay, glad at heart, we sent no spear-point through thee,
Traitor, for whom a dog's death is too good!

Mut.
I owe thee of my actions no account.
I have nought to do with thee, nor care what death,
Nor by whose hand I die.

Mah.
Proud, half-blood devil!
Here's one I see approaching, before whom
E'en thine own brazen infamy shall blush.

Sil.
[Rising.]
I must see this. Here's ready for my tablets
A scene that will not need embellishing.

Enter Hannibal.
Han.
Welcome back! Nero has been taught his distance!

Mah.
'Tis the old tale—they will not stand our charge.
Bold dogs they are—and yet, to drive them back,
To pick a pebble up will soon suffice.
But here's an old friend, whom thou hast not greeted.
Hast thou forgotten Mutines?

Han.
Him there?
Mean'st thou the man who hides his face from me,
Like a convicted thief before the lash?
No, you mistake—this is not Mutines,
This is the new-made Roman citizen,
Who wears his honours with such Roman boldness!

Mut.
I thought I could have borne it. Hannibal!
Release me from thine eyes! Death—death! not torture.

Han.
I do not pity thee. Wert thou my brother,
That so betray'dst thy country, I would still
Spurn thee as now.

Mut.
I had no country. Carthage
Denied me a son's rights. Carthage despised me.
Thou know'st we have no country.

Han.
Thou hadst that,
Wherever Rome had foes, or I a camp.
A great cause was thy country. Dost thou think
I ever deigned to reckon up the drops
Of Libyan blood in thee against the Punic?
Thyself hast sold thy birthright, proved thyself
The mongrel that thou art, who might'st have bid
For fame, beside the purest blood of Carthage.
I made thee great, it seems, to teach thee baseness—
I trained thee to those arms thou hast turned against me—
I trusted thee with Sicily and my hopes,
That of thine honour thou might'st make with Rome
A profitabler bargain.

Mut.
Hannibal!
I longed for thee, yet feared thee like hell-fire.
I swear to thee, that save for the one hope
To see thy face again, though but as now,
In shame and in despair, I had not lived
To meet this moment. Tell me, then, if thus
I agonize who loved thee, what more yet
Should they endure for ever, whose base envy
Maddened me into baseness, maddened me
To blast, as is man's wretched privilege,
In one brief moment, with a vain remorse,
All that is left of lifetime?

Han.
Mutines,
Thou know'st thy fate. I march to Metapontum.
There expiate thou thy crime. Go, we shall meet
No more in this world.

Mut.
[Turning away.]
Metapontum! Oh,
Had I not drained the cup of bitterness!

[Exit, guarded.
Han.
Soldiers, you saw a traitor in his shame.
Go, thank the gods you are not such as he.

Mah.
And that's the man—I think I see him now—
Who dashed before me into Thrasymene,
After the flying Romans, crying out,
“One day we'll hunt them into Tiber thus.”
He will be missing when that moment comes.

Sil.
No man more truly felt the thing he was.
Pity some actor was not by to copy
That gesture at the approach of Hannibal.
I half expected an applauding murmur.

Adh.
Didst thou so? Should I die in Roman chains,
Thou'dst calmly note the workings of my face
At twisting of the noose?

Sil.
Perhaps I might;
But I desire not such a fate for thee.

[Exeunt omnes.