 | Hannibal |  |
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ACT IV.
Scene I.
—Apulia. The camp of Hannibal at Canusium.Enter Hannibal, going the round of the camp, accompanied by Silanus. Bruttian Soldiers, round a fire, are watching a Magician.
Han.
[Pauses.]
Hark! 'tis the murmur of the Aufidus.
Sil.
Still heard across the murmur of the camp;
A music echoing from the Apennines,
Which lonely Vultur lifts his fierce old head
To listen for, as it goes clamouring by—
Much softened from its angry winter-roar,
But yet unsilenced by the summer sun.
Thou'lt be far hence e'er then, we'll humbly trust;
Ere these wide pastures wear the tawny tint
Of Cannæ's burning August, and yon stream
Shall lazily unwind along the plain
A tiny silver thread, may we not hope,
With a new Cannæ thou'lt be busy elsewhere?
Who knows what deeds thy Hasdrubal e'en now
Is adding to the sum of your renowns,
Whilst we, far off, can catch no sound of them?
Han.
Far off, yet never have I felt him closer.
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Happy for Carthage that in you she sees,
In glaring breach of one of earth's pet laws,
The rare descent of a great father's soul,
Not merely to one son—and that's scarce seen—
But to a pair of them—nay, I'll say three;
For Mago has in him the fire divine,
By tokens unmistakeable, though as yet
The sparkles break irregularly forth.
Han.
We were all like each other from our childhood;
But Hasdrubal, the next to me in age,
Was more entirely one with me in spirit.
A separate influence has been still at work,
From early youth, on Mago's troubled soul,
Perplexing much his course of action, and
Clouding the sunshine of his best successes.
Sil.
Thou mean'st his hopeless love for Sophonisba,
That bride betrothed, and beauty, from her cradle.
I never held with him an intercourse
So close as with thyself and Hasdrubal,
So often was he absent then from Spain;
Yet, knowing of his history, have watched,
With somewhat of a curious sympathy,
The outward workings of that passionate dream,
O'er which he brooded then, and still broods now,
With obstinate and unconsoled devotion—
How the boy's worship of the queenly child
Became the youth's heroic inspiration,
And, last, th'accustomed yoke of man's despair.
Han.
That love has followed him like his evil genius;
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Home to my heart the Mago of my youth,
The same who crossed the Alps so gaily with me—
The same who burst at Trebia on the rout
Of Rome's astounded legion, like their doom—
The same who hastened with such happy zeal
To bear the news of Cannæ home to Carthage;
But, noble as he is, and ever must be,
An influence, one like Sophonisba's father,
Could ne'er have exercised on such as Mago,
But for this fatal spell, has hitherto
Cramped his fierce energies, and fretted sore
The finer part of his heroic nature.
Far elsewise has it been with Hasdrubal,
The singleness of whose career and aims
Kept pace in Spain with mine in Italy,
And formed as close a tie betwixt our souls,
As that betwixt the lightning and the thunder.
Sil.
To my mind's eye you picture such a group
As I behold in yonder pines, which spread,
The same in form and hue, their sombre tops
Across white clouds, and yellow moon new-risen,
Like Titans lifting up their iron shields—
Three of them, but the third one bends apart—
Lo! as I live, the wonderful Egyptian,
The newest mystery of Metapontum!
See there! The soldiers with their eager eyes
Devour his awful countenance. What brings
The honour of his presence to thy camp?
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Watch we awhile what passes. For the moment
They see me not, they are so rapt in him.
A Sold.
This laughing lad here, he will serve thy purpose.
He's a sharp-witted Greek, fresh from Crotona.
Come forward, Hiero—do what he bids thee.
Mag.
Be not afraid, there's nothing here to harm thee.
Hold forth thy hand; see, I let fall therein
The magic ink-drop. All is ready now.
What he sees there, let him describe to you.
But, first, whose portrait do you ask of me?
Living or dead, this lad shall look upon him.
Another Sold.
Let it be Hasdrubal. He is the man
We look for, and we talk of, day and night.
Mag.
Look in the ink, and tell us what thou seest.
Boy.
I see a brush, without a hand to hold it,
Sweeping the ground. It disappears, and now
I see a crowd of tents, and flags, and men
On foot and horseback. Some are dressed in white
And scarlet.
2nd Sold.
Ay, the Spanish infantry.
He'll bring us thousands more of them from Spain.
Boy.
And here are some Numidians swarming in;
They dart on their swift horses to and fro,
Like flights of dark birds hovering o'er the plain,
And throwing forth their spears as if for sport,
And some, long-haired and fair-faced, like our Gauls,
Are drinking, and some sleeping.
3rd Sold.
Villains all!
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And where is Hasdrubal?
Mag.
Whisper down to them,
“My master greets you well, and bids you bring
The Punic Hasdrubal, Hamilcar's son,
Into his magic mirror.”
Boy.
Here he is!
This must be he! On a tall horse he comes,
And slowly rides towards me. Now he turns
And speaks to some one—now he points his hand
As to a distant object—now I see
His features plainly. Why, 'tis Hannibal!
No, there's a difference.
3rd Sold.
What, then, is he like?
Describe him to us.
Boy.
He is tall, like him,
Yet somewhat slightlier built—a comely head,
And yet 'tis less majestic than my lord's—
And yet I know not, but he carries it
With a more fierce and glowing eagerness—
Swarthy, like him, but a more burning brown.
When he turns sideways, then he seems less like.
Sil.
[Aside to Hannibal.]
'Tis true, the portrait is exact, so far.
4th Sold.
Come, tell us more.
Boy.
He knits his straight black brows—
His eyes keep flashing, now this way, now that.
He watches something—oh, it grows so dark!
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Mag.
Wait. Light will soon appear.
Boy.
Yes, now a red streak burns along the sky,
And light falls on his figure standing still.
Oh, now he turns! He looks so sad and fierce,
And seems to listen gloomily. He smiles!
A strange and sudden smile like Hannibal's.
Sil.
That's a true touch too.
1st Sold.
Ay, that looks like battle.
Boy.
Now all's confusion. I discern no more
The form of Hasdrubal. What does it mean?
There seems a sort of mist, and fighting shadows
Gliding within it—forms like elephants
Seem to rush heavily on every side,
Trampling down all before them. Horrible!
5th Sold.
Come, foolish lad! If thus thou shudderest
To watch a mimic battle, how wouldst feel
Were it a real one?
Boy.
Now 'tis clear again.
Now I see nothing but a warrior stretched
Along the ground, whose face is hidden from me,
And by him gazing stand two grave, stern men,
Each wearing scarlet cloaks above their armour.
5th Sold.
Why, those are Roman generals. By the gods!
This fellow has a mind to frighten us
With his mysterious pictures. Look again,
And tell us if thou now discern'st the face.
Boy.
No—all is vanished. Is there nothing more?
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This spectacle is finished. Thou mayst raise
Thine eyes again.
Soldiers.
[Clamouring together.]
Hast thou come here to mock us?—
What mean'st thou by thy lying drop of ink?—
Interpret this, thou juggling greybeard, straightway,
Or limb from limb we'll rend thee!—Dost thou dare
To mock us to our faces?
Mag.
Know you not,
That I myself pretend not to explain
The meaning of the visions that I show,
By the fixed laws of my world-ancient art?
These things are secrets into which my skill
Strives not to penetrate. My hand puts forth
Its cunning, with mechanical obedience
To those few simple rules my master taught me,
But why th'effects should follow that you see,
My understanding can no more conceive,
Than of the other mysteries of nature,
Such as the growth of seed to flower and fruit,
Or life and death itself, greatest of all.
Doubtless there have been men whose mighty minds
Pierced deeper through these wonders than mine own,
And by their knowledge, ignorantly thus
I profit; more than this I cannot tell you.
Sold.
Tear him in pieces! Trample him under foot!
Han.
[Advancing.]
Nay, touch him not! What mischief can he do,
Forsooth, to you, or me, or Hasdrubal,
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I bid you keep him a safe prisoner,
Till such time as our Hasdrubal himself
Shall come to read this mighty riddle for us,
And laugh at your perplexities. Fear nothing;
He cannot harm you, therefore harm him not.
[The Soldiers relinquish their hold of the Magician, and return to their places.]
Sil.
Thou art not superstitious, Hannibal,
Else wouldst thou vex thyself to penetrate
The meaning of this cunning mystery.
Han.
Nay, I reserve myself to question him
At mine own time, if he perchance have gathered
Some floating rumour that may prove half true,
Some hint of Hasdrubal's still unguessed movements,
That may concern me somewhat. For the rest,
Too urgent and too human is life's business
To wait on signs and omens.
Sil.
And in thee
The gods themselves have but a reverent son,
Never, I think, a slave.
Han.
If dread be slavish.
Sil.
Yet brave must be the faith which can embrace,
Serenely, the conception of those terrors
Wherewith the ritual of your Syrian worship
Still shrouds, to earthly eyes, the powers divine—
Though shorn of its old favourite ornament,
The human sacrifice. Your faith, it seems,
Finds there no menace, but an inspiration,
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Han.
I know not if the gloomy soul of Carthage
Hath figured deity aright; for me,
I am what the religion of my youth
Has made me. Though its form, perhaps, be changed,
The passion of its loyalty gone by,
Its purpose and devotion are the same.
I hear the gods' voice in my heart alone,
Nor seek a sign from heaven, save that which came
Betimes to me, as still it comes to all
Who follow the first whisper of their genius;
A few steps forward in a perfect faith,
And then a strong wind lifts the spirit up,
And bears us on with twice our human speed—
'Tis we no more—it is the deity.
And if at times there falls upon the soul
That's so possessed, a shadow of great sadness,
An awful lonely consciousness of power,
We feel but more assured the god is with us.
Some, doubtless, have fallen headlong from such heights
Dizzied as by the mighty eagle-wings
That flap around the solitary head
Of some bewildered climber of the Alps.
But no such fiend hath yet assailed my soul.
Sil.
My brain can comprehend and can admire
This the fanatic passion of your being;
My heart meanwhile is cold—so paralyzed
To such emotions, earthly science holds
No medicine to revivify its powers.
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Nor would have others like me. What you are,
With something of the artist's sense I see,
Who copies with his pencil, not his actions—
But since you stray not after signs and omens,
Tell me what found you on the haunted shore
Of the ne'er-fathomed, sad Campanian lake,
When you did homage to th'infernal gods,
Above the very kingdom of the dead?
What saw, what found you, other than you sought—
A politic mask to hide your purposed spring
At near Puteoli?
Han.
When I returned
To the blue sky and sun, as back to life,
I came from such communion with the dead,
As nature offers us in chosen hours
And chosen places; and that circle gray
Hollowed deep in the voice-subduing shade
Of forest-blackened hills, by fires that now
Are known but through the cinders of the past,
Was to my spirit even as a gate,
Out of the pent-up prison of this life,
Into the vastness of the other world,
Where fancy moved awhile in awe, not fear.
Sil.
To those who waited on your sacrifice,
You seemed, no doubt, to brave a very host
Of venerable terrors—birds that drop,
Dead from the poisoned air—lamenting cries—
Infernal music from the waters' depths,
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Doubtless, they questioned, with believing eyes,
The mystery that solemnized your brow,
And read therein a message from the dead.
Han.
Now to the quarter of the Gauls. Wilt follow?
[Exeunt Hannibal and Silanus.
Scene II.
—The camp of Livius at Sena. Livius and Porcius enter the tent of the former.Por.
Already his approach may be expected.
It was well thought of by you to delay
His entrance to us till the fall of night.
Liv.
Ay, Hasdrubal has cunning eyes, no doubt,
To see what passes, but mayhap we'll cheat them.
Por.
His speedy march seems like a miracle.
Liv.
Oh, he can stride apace to win from me
My portion in the honour of this war.
But welcome, so we get to fight the quicker.
I've been content, for Rome's sake, to be patient.
Now Nero comes to hurry my slow age,
And set me tasks with his superior wisdom.
Por.
Wise, or not wise, his stars have sent him luck;
Shame on him, had he failed to use it well.
Enter an Officer.
Off.
My lord, I bring you news, the consul Nero
Is entering now the camp.
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Porcius, go you
And fetch him with due welcome to my tent.
[Exit Porcius.
So, so! and we two are to meet, it seems,
In friendly counsel, eat at the same board,
Fight side by side in battle like two brothers!
I thought not once to meet so lovingly,
But lo! it never is too late to learn.
Old as I am, I have mended my ill manners.
Re-enter Porcius with Nero.
I greet thee, Nero.
Nero.
Thanks. Thy soldiers, Livius,
Are, doubtless, ready to take these of mine
To their own tents, as we before agreed on?
Liv.
Ay, all has been arranged.
Nero.
As yet, I trust,
Our secret must be safe from Hasdrubal.
Por.
And Hannibal?
Nero.
All safe there, as I think.
Liv.
I pray you eat and drink.
Nero.
'Twere well I should;
Yet I've nor thirst nor hunger, save for battle.
Por.
Thou shalt have that as well. Say, didst thou find
The country well affected on thy road?
Nero.
Ay, truly; I may call my hasty march
A seven days' triumph. All along the way
The country-folk poured forth as I did pass,
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And victims sacrificed for us in haste;
Food was set forth on tables by the road,
Whereof the soldiers, eager as myself,
Ate not save standing; vehicles were there,
Ready to bear the weary; all I asked,
I got in double measure; aged men,
Beyond the years of soldier's service—youths,
Not yet grown up to them—besought, with tears,
Leave to march with me. One determined hate
Of the invader breathed where'er I came.
Liv.
Oh, trust them, they forget not Hannibal's march,
Infernal pest! along that very road,
And burn, I dare be sworn, to pay old scores,
Written, these ten years back, in blood and flame.
For those that love him, let them look to it!
There's a rod ready now for traitors.
Nero.
Ay,
That will come after. Now then, let us frame
Our scheme of battle. What though, for the moment,
The foe guess not our numbers, since thy tents
Lodge all my men, we must not leave him time
To find our secret out.
Liv.
Howe'er that be,
Some few days' rest both man and horse must have
Before the battle.
Nero.
Livius, I say, No.
Por.
O Nero, be persuaded in this matter!
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Thou art so eager for. The State must fall
Past all redemption, if this time we fail.
Let us be careful of our single chance.
Thy men have been o'ertasked past human strength,—
His, fresh and flushed with bygone victories.
A few days' rest, and then—fight whom thou wilt.
Nero.
Porcius, methinks thou hast forgotten whom
We leave behind—one who has eyes and ears
That reach the very centre of our camps—
One whose horse-hoofs are winged like Mercury—
Who, haply, even now is on our path—
For who shall rest at leisure, in the hope
He has found how to outwit Hannibal?
One hope we have—to conquer Hasdrubal
Ere Hannibal be on us. Now is the time.
Our force is double his; and he, besides,
Is wanting in that matchless cavalry
At which all Italy has learnt to tremble.
When shall we find an hour more full of hope
For ending, at one blow, the mighty peril
Wherein we stand? My men desire no rest—
They will not rest till Hasdrubal be conquered.
Once more—think well, before you answer, who,
With all his thousands, hovers on the wing,
From morn till eve, whilst we are loitering here.
Por.
I yield, O Nero! What doth Livius say?
Liv.
Do as you will, arrange you your own scheme—
If ruin comes, I wash my hands of it.
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When wilt thou have us fight?
Nero.
To-morrow morn.
Por.
Nay, nay, a little respite!
Nero.
Livius, speak.
Liv.
I say, do as you will.
Nero.
To-morrow morn, then,
Let the red ensign fly.
Por.
Then, by the gods,
Nero, do thou snatch what repose thou mayst
In that short interval thou leav'st thyself!
Nero.
I will; but first must see to my tired soldiers;
They shall not think I have forgotten them.
[Exeunt Nero, Livius, and Porcius.
Scene III.
—The Carthaginian and Roman armies drawn out in order of battle.Enter Hasdrubal and Carthalo, on horseback, to reconnoitre.
Hasd.
Now, by Astarte! do I dream, Carthalo?
Does it not seem, as thou dost look on them,
The enemy is much increased in numbers?
Carth.
Yea, truly, if mine eyes deceive me not,
'Tis even so—increased, both horse and foot.
Hasd.
Those horses, too—seest thou how thin they seem?
I cannot doubt but they have travelled far.
Something is brewing that I understand not.
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There's something strange here, truly—
Hasd.
Well, Carthalo,
I may not venture, if thus overmatched,
To give them battle now. I will withdraw,
And after send some horsemen to ride round
And read this riddle. Come, let us turn bridle.
[Exeunt Hasdrubal and Carthalo.
Scene IV.
—The Camp of Hasdrubal.Hasdrubal, Carthalo, and Numidians.
Hasd.
You saw, then, no enlargement of their camp?
No fresh tents reared?
A Numid.
My lord, all was the same
As heretofore. One only sign we had
That some unusual thing had happened there—
For we did note, that whilst the trumpets blew,
As formerly, a single summons in
The prætor's quarter, it was sounded twice
Where Livius lay.
Hasd.
Enough; all is now plain.
Heard'st thou, Carthalo?
Carth.
Yea, with pain and wonder.
The riddle's solved. The consuls are both here—
We are much outnumbered.
Hasd.
Verily we are.
A thousand strange misgivings crowd upon me.
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That Nero has broke loose from Hannibal?
And why is he not here? Now, by the gods,
Long time may Carthage rue this loitering!
Car.
I cannot, will not doubt he had good cause;
And yet I swear that this delay looks strangely.
Hasd.
O Hannibal, why, why art thou not here?
Well, well, it is but waste time to complain.
I have decided.
Car.
To retreat?
Hasd.
No less.
At nightfall I shall e'en break up my camp,
And find my way back to the farther bank
Of yonder river.
Car.
What if they o'ertake thee,
And force a battle ere thy brother join thee?
Thou wilt fight then at greater disadvantage;
For these barbarians are disheartened ever,
And grow unruly, oft as they retreat.
Hasd.
I must not fight the consuls now—'tis vain.
Ill-omened, thrice ill-omened this delay!
He that was wont to come ere called! The foe,
Far off, scarce dared to breathe his name in whispers;
The nymphs of the most secret Apennines
Knew never when to look for him—ofttimes
Their sleep, when they did dream him far away,
Was startled by the thunder of his coming;
The guardian gods of Rome before their gates
Sit ever watching for his horsemen's tread;
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Hangs on his speed!
Car.
'Tis much unlike himself.
We never looked for this, when first we left
Placentia's walls, flushed with the coming hour.
Some evil chance—
Hasd.
What evil chance to him
Who lords it over chance and destiny?
Car.
Alas! how have we missed the simple answer
To all these questions? They have seized thy letter.
Hasd.
Yet Gala and Gulussa would pass safe
Where sorcery's self would fail. It may be so.
And if it be so, I now know the worst.
Well, I retreat to-night, and then—take patience.
[Exeunt Hasdrubal and Carthalo.
Scene V.
—Night—the camp of Hasdrubal on the banks of the Metaurus.Enter Hasdrubal, from his tent, to watch the sky.
Hasd.
When will the morning break? O thou dark cloud,
Thou hid'st the destinies of Hasdrubal!
Where is the streak of fire which should creep up
To crest thy sable helmet, and cast forward
Light o'er the waters I must cross so soon?
Oh, through the wild gloom of my mournful march,
Perplexed, entangled in the dreary woods,
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Oft fancy that it caught thy voice, my brother!
What if I never hear it any more?
What if Metaurus from this time become
A name at which all Carthage shall turn pale?
What means this deep farewell that swells my breast?
Why does my city of the waters now
Rise like a mourning mother through the dark,
And look upon me as with streaming eyes?
You drunken savages outstretched around me,
What are Hamilcar's sons to you, or what
Care you if we should never look on Rome?
Enter Carthalo.
Carth.
Is it thou, Hasdrubal?
Hasd.
Good morrow, friend.
Carth.
I cannot for the darkness see thy face,
And yet I see that thou art sad.
Hasd.
With cause,
For I am farther all these miles from Rome
Than I was yesterday.
Carth.
Thou hast not slept;
Thy spirit has not rested from its troubles.
Hasd.
These fellows here do take their fill of rest.
They sleep as they would never wake again.
Carth.
See, a faint twilight from the dawn steals on;
'Tis time, indeed, that we should find our ford,
If we would cross before the consuls reach us.
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Drunk as they are with weariness and wine?
They heed not now the voice of any man,
Not if the enemy were on our camp,
Could Hannibal himself compel them forth.
Why dost thou draw that ring from off thy finger?
What wilt thou do with it?
Hasd.
I must destroy it,
For should there come a battle, and I fall,
And should my body in their hands remain,
This, mine own signet, stamped on a forged letter,
Might ruin Hannibal. Marcellus' death
Has taught that lesson to me.
Carth.
Hasdrubal,
Why will you talk thus?
Hasd.
Think not I despair,
But, cut off thus from my allies and friends,
By overpowering numbers, 'tis my part
To make provision for all casualties.
I will not trust to any hiding-place
For this so dangerous and priceless treasure.
When in the Spanish wars my father fell,
I, but a lad then, drew from his dead hand
This signet-ring, and placed it on my own.
Long have I worn it, but the time has come
When I must stamp it, with this heel of mine,
Into as many atoms as I would
Stamp down the walls of Rome. One little moment—
One moment more, and it is gone for ever.
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I grieve that thou shouldst do this—yet, perhaps,
'Twere best to do so.
Hasd.
Relic of Hamilcar!
Never be thou corrupted to the use
Of the accursed race! Ring that his son
Has worn through years of warfare, never seal
My Hannibal's destruction! [Stamps upon it.]
Carth.
Oh, my friend,
Be this no omen of thy fate, or his.
Hasd.
Ha, the day breaks at last! The dawn! the dawn!
Now for our march—let us but find at last
The ford we have missed so long.
[Trumpets sound, and the camp begins to stir.]
Carth.
Would those brute Gauls
Wake from their drunken sleep!
Hasd.
Come, then, Carthalo!
Carth.
Hear'st thou? Here comes a breathless messenger.
Enter a Numidian Horseman.
Num.
My lord, the enemy is come in sight.
His cavalry is gaining fast upon us.
Hasd.
To battle, then—no other choice remains.
At least the Spanish Foot and the Ligurians
Are fit for fight; and even of these Gauls
Some even now are rousing them from sleep.
And if we win—why, then we need no ford.
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And if we lose this day, may I not live,
Son of Hamilcar! to behold another,
But perish like a soldier by thy side.
Hasd.
The purple clouds array themselves in haste,
With dreadful glory, like two armies fighting.—
Bid trumpets blow, and let us try our luck.
[Exeunt Hasdrubal and Carthalo.
Scene VI.
—The field of battle.Enter Hasdrubal, Carthalo, and others, on horseback, surrounded by the Romans.
Hasd.
Oh, come, my friends! there is no more to do;
'Tis time to give our last, our lives, for Carthage.
Carth.
I cannot wish to die a nobler death.
[They spur their horses into the midst of the enemy.]
Scene VII.
—The Forum of Rome, crowded with Citizens.Enter a Woman and Child.
Wom.
I heard a distant shout. Oh, tell me, friend,
Have any tidings come?
A Cit.
Nay, nothing yet.
Child.
But why is all this crowd gathered here, mother?
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My child, we wait to know if the great gods
Have deigned to save the city. Know'st thou not
The Consuls are in Umbria with their armies,
Fighting the Carthaginian Hasdrubal?
Child.
Oh, yes, my father told me when he went.
But shall we know to-day which has won, mother?
And shall we see my father?
Wom.
Ah, my child,
I cannot tell thee if we e'er shall see him.
A Cit.
Just such a crowd as this beset the streets
Waiting for news from Cannæ. And who knows
But a like tale may come this day to us?
Wom.
For mercy, hush! Thou mak'st me think I see
Those wild Numidians coming in their fury.
At every sound I quake, and think they're here.
Child.
Who are they, mother?
Wom.
Men more fierce than wolves!
Ere thou wast born, these eyes of mine have seen them
By hundreds, ay, with Hannibal at their head,
Before our very gates.
Another Cit.
And I myself
Was there when Hannibal's own scornful hand
Flung in a spear as he rode slowly by.
It lighted on the ground just where I stood.
Proud man! with what a look he gazed upon us,
As if we all had been his purchased slaves.
Another.
Ay, what a time was that! It seems to me
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Come trooping down with their long hair all loose,
All on their bridleless, unsaddled steeds,
Settling in swarms, here, there, and everywhere,
Filling all heaven with their infernal cries,
And all the land with desolating flames.
And lo, again, another Hannibal
Is ready with another swarm of devils
To snatch away our harvests.
Wom.
Hark! oh, hark!
[Shouts heard from a distance.]
A Cit.
That sounds like something. Here they come! Oh, hark!
Enter fresh Citizens, with great uproar.
Citizens.
Good news! Good news!
Another Cit.
What is it? Speak, what news?
Citizens.
Two horsemen from the field have ridden home
To Narnia, with the tidings of a victory.
They talk of nothing else in all the camp there.
[The crowd shouts.]
A Cit.
Jove, can this be so?
Another.
No, no, 'tis too good.
I dare not to believe it.
Another.
Lies and folly!
How should a battle fought so far in Umbria
Be heard of two days afterwards in Rome?
84
What news? What news?
Citizens.
A letter has arrived
From Lucius Manlius himself, at Narnia,
Confirming the first tidings.
Other Cit.
No! no! no!
We'll not believe this till the consuls tell us.
[Fresh shouts are heard.]
Cit.
[shouting]
Make way! make way! Room for three officers
Come from the Consuls straight with a despatch.
All
[shouting]
Thank the great gods!
A Cit.
They will be here, e'en now.
As far as to the Milvian Bridge the way
Is lined with faces. Scarce a mouse could find
Room to creep through them.
Enter fresh Citizens, with uproar.
Cit.
Make way! make way!
Enter Veturius, Lucinius, and Metellus.
Vet.
People of Rome! We bid you thank the gods
For a great victory. Make way, there! We must
On to the Senate.
A Cit.
In the name of heaven,
I pray you tell us more!
Lic.
Make way, good people.
85
Hands off, I pray you!
Another.
Are both Consuls safe?
Met.
Both safe. Make way!
Another.
Our legions?
Vet.
Will return
Unbroken. Let me pass!
Another.
One moment! Tell us
If Hasdrubal is taken?
Met.
He is slain!
[Loud and prolonged shouts.]
[Exeunt Veturius, Licinius, and Metellus.
Cit.
Let's in to the Senate after them.
Enter Lictors, and force the crowd back.
A Cit.
Oh, when hath Rome known such a day as this?
Another.
This wipes out Cannæ!
Another.
When will they come forth?
Another.
Make way! Make way! They come!
Re-enter Veturius.
Cit.
[shouting.]
The letter! the letter!
Vet.
[mounts the rostrum and reads.]
“All is well.
We have won a great battle on the Metaurus. Hasdrubal
is slain. His army is cut to pieces. His camp
and all its spoils are taken.”
86
But will it please you from my lips to hear
All that fell out, as mine own eyes beheld it?
Cit.
Yes, yes! tell us, noble Veturius.
Vet.
Already have you heard the happy chance,
Whereby the letter writ by Hasdrubal
Came to the hands of Nero, and what use
His noble soul devised to make of it.
Know, then, the morn after his seven days' march
Had brought him safely to the camp of Livius
The Consul led us forth to the attack;
But then, it seemed, for the first time the foe
Guessed at our secret; for he turned again
To his own camp, and, at the fall of night—
As we discovered shortly—stole away,
And back to the Metaurus urged his march,
Seeking, as since we know, a ford to cross by,
But ever baffled by the rocky walls
That close it in, and in the dark of night,
Further bewildered by his faithless guides,
Who easily escaped him at his need.
Long through the woods his windings did we trace,
And high, I promise you, our hearts were beating,
As we marched after. Mile for mile we followed,
And at the day-dawn we came up with him;
'Twas then began a fight that matches Cannæ.
Cit.
Proceed, proceed!
Vet.
We found him camped upon the river's bank,
His men—scarce rested from their weary march,
87
To seek the ford they never were to find.
Forth at the first alarm he drew to meet us,
Deepening his lines within the narrow space,
And at their head his ten huge elephants.
Our left was led by Livius; on our right
Nero opposed the Gauls, scarce sobered from
Their night's carousals. Porcius led the centre.
For Hasdrubal, he, with his Spanish foot,
Confronted Livius. Then the contest closed.
Full soon the elephants, sent wild with wounds,
Dashed madly through our ranks, and through the foe's
As madly, and on either side alike
Upset and trampled horse and infantry.
Give me fair fight with men! These frantic beasts
Lend battle a worse horror than man's rage.
Long fought we as men never fought before,
Nor lost, nor gained the while, an inch of ground,
Till Nero, hopeless to prevail in front—
Where, shielded by the river on their left,
Stood, on ground unapproachable, the Gauls—
Dealt at the last the death-blow of the foe;
For, stealing round our rear, all on a sudden,
Down fell he like a thunderbolt of Jove
Upon the right flank of the enemy.
There, with his Spanish foot, as brave a band
Of desperate men as ever stood the brunt
Of an unequal strife, fought Hasdrubal;
But fought in vain. Hemmed in on every side,
88
Strong in th'immortal energy of hate
That burns through all Hamilcar's lion brood,
Myself, I saw him give his horse the spur,
And burst in on us at one furious bound,
Frowning from the black shadow of his helm
The last defiance of despair upon us.
Thus he, at head of a devoted few,
Died fighting, as became Hamilcar's son,
And Hannibal's own brother.
[Loud shouts from the crowd. Veturius pauses.]
Cit.
Proceed, proceed! Finish thy tale.
Vet.
Thus perished Hasdrubal. Yet how he fell
I saw not. O'er him rolled the battle-sea,
And buried his tall horse, and dark fixed face,
One moment seen and lost, amongst our spears.
So ceased a mighty battle. On that day
The blood of tens of thousands clogged our swords,
Till we were weary with the toil of slaying.
When all was finished on the battle-field,
We stormed the camp, and ended there the work
Of slaughter, on the brute inebriate Gauls,
Still stretched in that inglorious sleep, from whence
They woke no more. Rich was the spoil that day;
And richly shall it furnish forth the pageant
That's yet to come before you. On the field,
Six giant corpses of their elephants
We found, slain, when they maddened, by their drivers.
The rest, one day, shall here be led in triumph.
89
Beneath a heap of slain—a proud revenge
For four of Rome's own Consuls. To the hands
Of Nero, we delivered his remains.
Quirites, I have finished! For the rest,
Your countrymen shall tell you all hereafter,
When back comes Livius triumphing to Rome.
Cit.
Away, away, away! Let's to our homes,
And tell the story to our wives and children!
[The crowd disperses tumultuously.]
Scene VIII.
—Hannibal's Camp at Canusium. Hannibal, Maharbal, Adherbal, &c., at supper in the tent of Adherbal.All
[drinking].
To Hasdrubal, and to his swift approach!
Adh.
Having paid honour to the human friend,
Wherefore forget the faithful beasts that love us?
Health to the elephants, our best allies!
Mah.
Amen to that! But how are we the better?
We want them, and we have not got them. Ay,
Had I my wish now, I'd be choosing out
From every stall along the threefold walls
The biggest of the idle beasts they keep—
Methinks I see them!—stabled at such cost,
Luxurious monsters—just to mock our need.
90
Right gallant warriors, that deserve their wages!
'Tis not long since that I did beg for some,
But they denied me.
Mah.
Curses on the spite
Of faction, thus to thwart thee at each turn!
Instead of sending south to scour each mile,
'Twixt Nile and Niger—oh, I know them well!
They're listening now, whilst every fool in council
Starts up to chatter 'gainst thy generalship.
I would that they who talk so big of war—
Prating of things no soul of them understands,
Battles and marches, round their supper-tables—
Could taste a little of the sweets of fighting!
Han.
Good souls of Carthage! Let them chatter on,
And let them rail too, so they grudge me not
My valiant elephants.
Mah.
Thou smil'st? Fiends catch me,
If I see anything at all to laugh at
In that which makes you merry!
Han.
Shall they so?
I was but smiling to behold in fancy
What thou and I so oft have smiled to see—
Those martial monsters striding gleefully,
With their small twinkling eyes and quivering ears,
To send the Roman squadrons, horse and man,
Piteously rolling to perdition.
Mah.
Oh,
Of those dumb, cunning creatures, the least wise
91
Gaping for news of Italy!
Han.
Thou think'st so? [rises.]
I leave you for my tent, now—friends, good night.
[Exit.
Mah.
He puts a good face on it; yet be certain,
He's groaning inwardly at this delay
Of news from Hasdrubal. Where is he, then?
How long are we to fret and fume for him?
He has had time to make a flaming beacon
Of every village on the road to Rome,
And yet—
Adh.
And yet we see no conflagration.
Mah.
Little thou car'st for that! Now I'll be bound
Thou'st some Greek love-song running in thy head,
This very moment, caught up from some fool
In foolish Metapontum!
Adh.
Even so.
I love their love-songs better, I confess,
Than fierce old hymns to Moloch, thy delight—
Fit only for some murder-loving priest
To howl o'er pretty children in the flames,
As in our golden period.—Ha! wild Zeba,
Galloping towards us in his madcap fashion!
Mah.
Ay, what new freak now?
Enter Zeba, dismounting in front of the tent, and holding in his hand a severed head.
Adh.
Well, and what of this?
92
What of it? Let him answer that, who can!
Adh.
What is this head to us, then? Why this rage?
Zeba.
I only know that it was flung to me,
Before our outposts, by those dogs of Romans—
And whose it is, I swear I cannot tell.
Mah.
Nor we, indeed—haply some luckless wretch,
Caught by them, playing spy about their camp.
What matter?
Zeba.
Why then did they clap their hands,
And point, and laugh so loudly, as they bade me
Go ask of Hannibal, whose head it was?
Oh, it shall be my turn to mock these mockers,
Some day when I shall roll their grinning skulls,
To bleach beneath the broad stare of the sun,
When dogs have picked them clean.
Adh.
Well said, friend Zeba.
Let's see this victim's face.—Why, who art thou?—
Some noble Carthaginian—no doubt there.
By heaven, I would thou wert alive again!
Mah.
Look there—the soldiers gathering from all sides!
Re-enter Hannibal.
Han.
What's this? Show me that head.
Adh.
Thou seest, Maharbal.
Mah.
Ay, we know now.
93
As well as if the gods
Had thundered it from heaven.
Mah.
They see it, too—
Look round—they see his face as well as we.
Adh.
How guessed we not? O Hannibal! O Carthage!
Han.
Adherbal!
Adh.
Hannibal!
Han.
Have it in charge,
That funeral rites be paid my brother's head,
This very night, and I will witness them.—
Pale head of Hasdrubal! by this kiss, I pray,
So and more also do the gods to me,
If I show mercy in the hour of Rome,
Till every hair of thine has been avenged,
To any living thing that's born of her!
Enter Soldiers with Himilco.
A Sold.
My general!
Han.
Speak.
Sold.
The enemy parades
Before our camp a crowd of prisoners, bound—
And here is one they have sent in to us.
He prays to speak with you.
Han.
[to Himilco.]
Come to my tent.
I'll see thee there alone.
[Exit, with Himilco.
Adh.
What means all this?
A battle fought!—And we!—
Mah.
It means forsooth—
94
Since this is all that you could do for us!—
Am I bewitched, to weep so?
Adh.
Weep thy heart out!
The noblest head, save one, earth ever saw—
O Carthage! Carthage!—
Mah.
Lies there, like a stone.
Zeba.
What's my life worth, unless I can avenge thee?
Here on the dust before thee, O my lord,
I swear to bring the price of thee, one day,
To my heart's chief, my king, my only god!
[Exit.
Adh.
You veterans, all of you, whose iron hands
Are vainly striving to choke down your sobs,
Whose tears are tears of fire that veterans weep,
You'll not forget this day till Hannibal
Himself shall tell you it is blotted out?
All.
No, by the gods!—When we forget it, may
Our right hands wither!
Mah.
Swear, and swear! and groan
Your very souls out! That's what's left to us—
That's what it's come to!—Gods! And where is, then,
The army this man led?
Adh.
O thou dead face!
Canst thou not tell us? Didst thou whisper it
To him thou so didst love, and break his heart
In that one horrible moment? Did a fire
Flash from thine eyes to meet him? Did a warning
Break from thy lips? Dear, glorious, dreadful head!
95
Lie here, thou wreck, and wait for the vain honours
Despairing love shall lavish on dumb dust.
[Removes it within.]
A Sold.
The generals weep like us.
Another.
Are we but babies?
Let's curse the Romans, then!
Another.
To hell with them!—
Saw you his face, the face of Hannibal?
Another.
His? When shall I not see it? But we'll teach them
The head of Hasdrubal's a dangerous plaything!
Thousands of heads must pay him for this one!
Mah.
Well said! But pay him, shall we? Not with millions!
[Exit Maharbal.
Scene IX.
—The tent of Hannibal. Adherbal, Maharbal, and Himilco.Adh.
Tell us, then, how he bore to hear your story?
Him.
With pale and steadfast countenance he sat,
His head supported on his hand, his eyes
Fixed on me, till, as I approached the close,
And spoke of Hasdrubal, and how he died,
He pressed both hands a moment on his face,
And his breast heaved; but, when he took them off,
I saw no tear. He heard me to the end,
96
And to the inner room withdrew himself,
And if he wept there, best knows Hasdrubal,
Whose shade was surely with him.
Adh.
So 'tis ended!
But how shall soul of man find strength to bear
So deep a ruin of so dear a hope?
Him.
What will he do now? Will his strong heart break,
And fling the fate of Carthage to the winds?
Or will he keep his dream, that years to come
Shall find him once more on the road to Rome?
Mah.
Ay, that will he! His heart will never break
While there's a mischief to be done to Rome.
I think he'll not go hence until he dies.—
Gods! this is like the days when Capua fell;
I was by then, when first he heard the news.
Adh.
But that great anguish was to this a jest;
The fall of Capua was a child's toy broken,
Rome's bloody vengeance there a butchery
Of lambs, beside the death of Hasdrubal.
Enter Hannibal from within.
Him.
I take my leave—you do not need me now.
[Exit.
Han.
Be seated, friends. No need to strive for words,—
I know already all that you would say.
Well, it is time boldly to face the truth;
97
My dearest dream is perished.
Adh.
Hannibal,
How noble is thy fortitude! For us,
Needs must I own it, we have wept like women.
Han.
There's cause for tears,—but now no more of them;
We'll speak of what concerns our present actions.
I need not say that now, for many a year,
All hope of marching to the siege of Rome
Must be laid by. Nor can I wage this war
As I have done so long—ere yet I hoped
To end it at a blow. 'Twill be enough
If I can hold a spot of Italy
Against mine enemies, till time or chance
Work some auspicious change.
Mah.
Ay, let us wait
Till Mago o'er the Alps shall come to greet thee!
We'll take heed not to miss him.
Han.
That's a dream.
But Mago still is Mago, brave and true,
And precious to his country.
Adh.
True, indeed,
Ten years' experience shows not even thou
Canst thus alone perform the mighty work
That's set before thee. Thou hast kept thy ground
Gloriously, been a vengeance to thy foes,
And shalt be, in the ages yet unborn;
But neither Carthage nor yet Italy
98
The tide had reached its height when Capua joined thee;
Then it stood still, and with her fall, alas!
The ebb began—it may flow back again,
Canst thou but hold thy ground.
Han.
Hold it I will!
I'll follow the old counsels of my namesake,
And feed my soldiers on their enemies' flesh,
Ere they shall starve me from the land I covet;
I'll fight the Roman to the water's edge,
Ere he shall drive me out of Italy.
Yet by these ten years past I have taught Rome
Some lessons she has wit to profit by—
And she, unlike to Carthage, has staunch friends,
Confederate with her, whose hate to me
Waxes, not wanes, with time, whilst on my side
Too grievously the faithfullest have suffered,
Oft as I've had no choice save to commit them
To Roman mercy, or to root them up
From house and lands, and bid them follow me.
This cannot last for ever. Thus I stand
Wholly alone this day. Sicily's lost—
Spain soon will be—and Carthage is exhausted.
I must be now content by slow degrees
To waste the heart of Rome; my armies now
Must spread no longer o'er so wide a space:
I must withdraw my garrisons, and take
My stand in Bruttium; on that boundary
99
Waiting for Carthage's revenge and mine.
Mah.
A goodly windfall of revenge for Rome
When all Apulia lies beneath her feet!
Ay, and for Metapontum such a rod
As never yet hath scourged her in her dreams!
Han.
For those who choose it, I shall have in Bruttium
A home of refuge still: her scorching rocks
Within their rugged arms shall guard us well;
The seas that wash her olive-mantled slopes
Shall still be open to the ships of Carthage.
So will we wait awhile, and laugh to scorn
The State whose mightiest energies have failed
From her fair gardens to dislodge her foe.
Mah.
So good-bye to Canusium! So we turn
Our backs on Cannæ!
Han.
Even so. 'Tis time
That all should brace their minds for the farewell
To this familiar spot, dear to our hearts
For past achievements. Now, my friends, I pray,
Leave me alone. We'll meet again to supper.
[Exeunt Maharbal and Adherbal.
Mago is left—and Mago is like him.
Why cannot Mago fill his place for me?
But I will cherish Mago with such love
As I can spare unto the end of time,
From him whose pale dishonoured head I kissed—
What time my very veterans wept aloud—
100
With that great heartbreak that, through all my life,
Shall need no second blow to break it more.
Parted so long—O brother! brother! brother!—
But I will never offer up again
That costly funeral sacrifice of tears,
Over whose agony the Roman gods
Laughed in their skies!—
O brother! oh, how often have my hopes
Clasped thee with strenuous passion to a heart
Married to thine by all the golden ties
Of boyhood's love, and manhood's iron truth—
Married to thine by all the burning vows
Of life-long constancy to one dear hate—
Hate deep as hell, unsatisfied as death!
And there thou art!—Why was this misery sent me?
There is not in the compass of the world
A fit revenge for it! Though I should ride
Over the smoking ruins of their Capitol,
Should sell their Senate for bondslaves in Carthage,
What would it all do for me? Nothing! nothing!—
Bound in the fetters of my childhood's vow,
From Carthage I have lived a banished man,
Nor ever have I murmured, though my days
Have now shed off the green leaves of their spring.
I have no wife nor child, but I had thee,
Whose love to me was more than woman's love.
Apart from thee I lived, but lived for thee!
But now, divorced from that dear love of thine,
101
To her my heart's stern marriage-vows be paid!
Let her exult in my fidelity!—
And there thou art, at last!—And there thou go'st,
Down to the shades, to drench my father's soul
In the immortal cup of thy despair!
O Hasdrubal, for thee the maids of Carthage
Shall drown the blossom of their youth in tears!
O Hasdrubal, my fiery Hasdrubal!
My other self, my hero Hasdrubal!
My only love, my brother Hasdrubal!
| Hannibal | |