University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—Carthage. A chamber in the house of Hasdrubal-Gisco, Sophonisba, and Ada. The sound of funeral music heard.
Ada.
Hark! hark! Those sounds! That mournful, mournful music!
Ah, Sophonisba, 'tis the dirge for him!

Soph.
Indeed it is.

Ada.
'Tis like the dirge of Carthage.
[A long pause.]
I wonder not Hasdrubal scorned to live;
For me, I never could survive despair.
I could not lift my hand against myself;
But I would loathe my life until it left me.

Soph.
My Ada, hast thou thought, then, what death is?

Ada.
I know not what it is; but yet it seems
So comforting to think the wretched die.

Soph.
But what, if in the grave there be no rest,
No darkness—nor in death the end of life,
It's cure and consolation? What if, freed
From this life's twilight, which we find so oft,
Dull as it is, too bright for our tired eyes,
The soul should burst at once into a light
From whose strong blaze there is no hiding-place?
Oppressed with such intensity of life,
Our loves and hates, our griefs, our hopes and fears,
Transplanted to eternity, and there
Enlarged into eternal agonies—
Our faculties and feelings framed anew
Upon the vast scale of infinity—
May we not piningly look back to earth,
As to the darkness of repose and bliss?
As certainly as youth from childhood grows,
For all our waiting death will come at last,
And, like all other futures, will be found,
I think, not that which we imagine it.

Ada.
Oh, surely, for the utterly unhappy,
There must come some bright change!

Soph.
But not, I think,
Unless we so subdue our natures here,
So harmonize our passionate desires,
That life may glide as nobly into death,
As rivers, from their fountains widening on
Steadily to the sea, there lose themselves
With perfect and majestic resignation.

Ada.
You fear not death, then, Sophonisba?

Soph.
No.

Ada.
But still you think self-killing is a crime?

Soph.
I can imagine how it well might happen,
Though life were wretched, 'twere a crime to die,
And though 'twere sweet, it were a crime to live.

Ada.
I think, to hear of others' miseries
Makes life most hard to bear!

Soph.
Dear child, may tears
Bitterer than those fall never for your own!

[Voices from without call “Ada! Ada!”]
Ada.
Oh, they are calling me! I cannot go—
I cannot talk and laugh with them to-day.

[Zeinab and Kora lift up the curtain from an archway, and show themselves.]
Zein.
Come, Ada! Come, we seek thee!

Ada.
Oh, not now!

[Zeinab and Kora rush in and playfully draw her out.]
Soph.
Still, still, defeat, calamity, and shame—
And I find time to mourn my own heart's sorrow!
How selfishly I called that life a ruin
Which I can make a holocaust for Carthage!
He could not be more lost to me than now—
And yet I am sure he must have loved me once!
He could not so deceive me, young and bright
And ardent as he was, my playfellow,
Companion, friend! He did, he did once love me,
As surely as he loves me now no more.
Oh, 'tis far best to leave this house for ever,
And every spot where we have been together—
E'en this dear chamber sacred to those books
In which we oft have studied from one page,
Receiving into ours the soul of Greece,
Plato and Aristotle our companions.
Oh, never, never such a happy pair
Will meet again there! Yet since he forgets,
Casts that sweet past away as worthless trash,
I must forget it, too—I must forget
To turn in thought to him, whene'er I hear
Of noble actions, of heroic sorrows,
The lofty works and thoughts of genius; never
Must store fond fancies in my heart again,
To tell him when he comes. Now must I learn
To separate from his image all that seemed
Immutably, essentially himself,
And see in his true self but the same stranger
His unloved rival is. Henceforth, I must,
Where'er I live, live utterly alone.

Enter Gisco.
Gis.
So, niece, alone as usual. Do you guess
What news I bring?

Soph.
None that can give me joy.

Gis.
That is as may be. Syphax is in Carthage—
Ay, more than that—is in this very house.

Soph.
I have expected it.

Gis.
And you must see him.
'Tis time now to give over pondering
O'er Masanissa's coldness. He's a traitor,
A mere Numidian traitor. For two years
With Scipio he has tampered secretly—
There's news for you! At Gades they two met,
And, doubtless, there devised black treachery;
The Roman with his false face, and smooth voice,
And that majestic presence that we hear of,
Bewitched him, as he has bewitched the Spaniards.
They can't withstand the magic, curse upon it!
Next, he departs for Africa—

Soph.
Hold, uncle!
How know you this? What proof have you of this?

Gis.
Read that, and that.—There, are you satisfied?
Well, then, of this be sure—he'll not lose time
In throwing off the mask, since this black news
From Italy, since this huge overthrow
Hannibal's puffed-up brother has brought on us.
Now is the time to strike a blow against him—
A double blow whilst scarcely yet assured
In the possession of his father's throne.
Syphax must take both bride and kingdom from him.

Soph.
His kingdom? If he can.

Gis.
That is your business.
Show a brave spirit, girl! Let him revenge you
On your false lover! Not that he needs urging;
Syphax hates Masanissa piously,
As one true-born Numidian hates another.
But we waste time. When will you see the king?

Soph.
Now.

Gis.
Then so be it. He's a noble chieftain,
A true Numidian lion! Oh, to see him
Spring on his desert charger, you would say,
There is the men to rout the Roman horse!
Your Masanissa's self excels him not,
With all his boasted horsemanship.

Soph.
Enough!
I have said that I will see him; bring him hither.

Gis.
You know your part! Engage him heart and soul
To Carthage. Make your own conditions with him.

[Exit.
Soph.
Oh, if it be my fate to give away
My whole life for a price, at least the price
Shall be no sordid one. Carthage shall thank me,
And Syphax shall behold a hero's course
Marked out before him by a bride who loved
His rival once, as woman loves but once.
Re-enter Gisco with Syphax.
Welcome, King Syphax, to my father's house!

Syph.
Let me fall down and kiss thy garment's hem,
For never did I see such beauty—no,
Not in a dream.

Soph.
I pray thee rise, O king!

Syph.
O peerless lady! dost thou know mine errand?
I come to seek thee for my wedded queen!
From thine own lips they bid me take my answer,
And therefore come I to thee. Wilt thou give it?

Soph.
I will. I here confirm my father's promise.

Syph.
Daughter of Carthage! thou hast made my heart
Drunk with proud joy! How shall I pay thee back
For such a sun-eclipsing gem as thou
Hast lavished on me, giving me thyself?
Wherewith shall I endow thee, O my queen?
Thou shalt have all that beauty can desire
To dazzle it with wonder at itself!
Never did earth see such a sumptuous bride
As daily in thy mirror thou shalt gaze on,
In palace-chambers golden as the sun!
Reigning from beauteous Cirtha rock-enthroned
And river-girdled, o'er my fruitful land,
Never was such a queen as thou shalt be,
So crowned with worship, and with world-wide envy!

Soph.
I ask no gift but armies.

Syph.
Thou shalt have them!

Soph.
Syphax, in wedding me thou must become
A Carthaginian. Never dream again
Of peace with Rome till Carthage wars no more!
I want no wedding-dances in thy Cirtha—
I only want to see thy tribe in arms.

Syph.
O Sophonisba! take the soul of Syphax.
Do what thou wilt with all its loves and hates!
Now will I spit upon the name of Rome,
And hunt the soul of Scipio to the death!
Take all the warrior horsemen of my land!
If thousands fall, thousands shall fill their place,
Born but for thee, for thee alone to die.—
How dark the room grows! Oh, the sun has set
Too soon, for thou art almost hidden from me.
Do I mistake, or is thy face o'ercast?
Dost thou regret my rival, Masanissa?
Although like death I hate him, yet will I
Bless him because he lost thee, Sophonisba!
Tell me, dost thou regret him?

Soph.
Be content.
I have renounced th'affianced of my youth
As utterly as I would cast thee off,
If e'er thy heart should turn again to Rome.
Leave Masanissa! Wilt thou promise, then,
To arm me thy Numidians whensoe'er
My father needs them—not to spare thy men,
Thy treasures, or thy realm itself to Carthage?

Syph.
I do—I do! And art thou really mine?

Soph.
Here is my hand, and here my sacred promise.

Syph.
O fair and gracious pledge!

Gis.
[approaching]
Most noble king!
This is the hour fixed for your conference
With our two Suffetes. Shall I now attend you?

Syph.
I know not how to go! Beauty, adieu!

Soph.
Adieu, King Syphax.

Gis.
You will meet again.

[Exeunt Gisco and Syphax.