 | Julian The Apostate |  |
The Mines under Perisabor—Workmen hewing the rock
—the roof supported by a large pillar of rough wood.
Enter Nevitta and Officers.
NEVITTA.
Is your work finished yet?
WORKMAN.
In truth, Sir,
'Twas a hard job, but there 's the finishing stroke.
NEVITTA.
Then is our battle-hour arrived—call forward
The gallants that lead up the storm.
(Enter Soldiers, with battle-axes and shields, &c. After them Julian, Maximus, &c. &c.)
NEVITTA.
The moments press—when shall we give the signal?
JULIAN.
Hold! I have sent in a last summons. Jovian
Returns on the instant: here he comes.
Enter Jovian.
JOVIAN.
Alas! Sir,
These men are mad—most obstinately mad!
They yield not, but return most wild defiance.
Yet are they worn out sadly. Empty streets
And grass-grown portals are more eloquent
Than any language; and the lean, shadowy shapes,
That glance at times across the silent courts,
Make most emphatic comment.
MAXIMUS.
Why, 'twould be mercy
To terminate their misery.
JOVIAN.
And yet,
There are some that still cling to life. I passed
The gate of a temple: it was thronged with maidens
Worn out with famine doubtless, but still lovely.
And there they sat, and sang, and wept, and told
Sad stories, and then wept again. I saw
In an open hall, an old man of fourscore
By his daughter fed on their last loaf—their last:
Ay, o'er that meal he blessed her, and held up
His aged hands, and wished her length of days,
And health, and happiness: thus on the edge
Of a sure grave! I turned away mine eyes,
And in a corner saw a young man steal
The cool spring draught from his faint, dying mother,
And drink:—thus misery deforms our nature!
MAXIMUS.
Nay Jovian, nay—time presses us—anon
We can hear this at leisure: and, if you please it,
Weep till our hearts break, at your dolorous stories.
Postpone, postpone.
JULIAN.
Priest! you may have no heart;
I have: Jovian proceed. Aught else?
JOVIAN.
We soldiers
Have but hard hearts at best; yet there was one
That moved my pity deeply—a poor female.
Famine had preyed upon her, and it seemed
As if some grief had left her desolate.
She had a baby in her arms, and moved
Slow, with unsteady step, her head declining.
She heard me as she passed, and languidly
Stopped, and, all trembling, turned aside to gaze.
Oh, what a look she gave then! her dim eyes,
Sunk in their livid chambers, and half hid
'Neath the incumbent lids, were fixed on me
With most intense, painful anxiety.
Tears started, and she turned unto her child,
Kissed it and wept; then turned to me again,
And seemed with her disparted lips to drink
E'en the least word I uttered. There was about her
An air that shewed she had been beautiful,
And knew it—and a something that denoted
Station and breeding; and she still was youthful.
But Nature vainly wars with sickness: thus
Want had anticipated time—the sear
Of sallow winter crept upon her roses,
And hunger made her soft cheek hollow and wan.
JULIAN.
Oh, war, remorseless war! poor gentle creature,
Did she not shrink from thee at last?
JOVIAN.
Alas!
Despair and sensibility soon sever.
Squalid had grown her dress—her breast was bare,
That infant's fount of life and only pillow.
As thus she looked on me, her baby cried,
(Haply at being unnoticed,) and stretched out
His little hands, and wound them round her neck,
And stroked down her poor cheek. Thereat she turned
And gazed upon it wildly, and sank down
Upon her knees and prayed; and to her bosom
Clasped it, and hung her head and wept aloud.
(Julian sits down and covers his face with his hand.
MAXIMUS.
(regarding Julian.
Nay, if he feels it thus, we are ruined. Give me
The axe and I will tear the mine down.
(He takes the axe.
Soldiers!
Remember how you are moulded. Youth of Greece,
Fight for the honour of old Hellas. Think
Of Marathon in th' onset; and if any
Talk of retreat, cry out Thermopylæ.
And you, Pretorians! now your Thracian wives
Are gather'd in the Hippodrome, high vaunting
The prowess of their husbands. Men of Italy!
Inheritors of victory! Proud Romans!
Your country sees you from the Capitol.
Charge, and the Gods be with you.
(He strikes the base of a column, which giving way, the mine falls in, and above the mass of ruin the interior of the city is seen. Citizens rush to the breach with wild cries. Assault and repulse. Julian starts up, drawing his sword.)
JULIAN.
Is the deed done?
Then Romans do your duty.
(The breach is at length won. The troops pour into the city.)
Enter Nevitta and Officers.
NEVITTA.
Is your work finished yet?
121
In truth, Sir,
'Twas a hard job, but there 's the finishing stroke.
NEVITTA.
Then is our battle-hour arrived—call forward
The gallants that lead up the storm.
(Enter Soldiers, with battle-axes and shields, &c. After them Julian, Maximus, &c. &c.)
NEVITTA.
The moments press—when shall we give the signal?
JULIAN.
Hold! I have sent in a last summons. Jovian
Returns on the instant: here he comes.
Enter Jovian.
JOVIAN.
Alas! Sir,
These men are mad—most obstinately mad!
They yield not, but return most wild defiance.
Yet are they worn out sadly. Empty streets
And grass-grown portals are more eloquent
122
That glance at times across the silent courts,
Make most emphatic comment.
MAXIMUS.
Why, 'twould be mercy
To terminate their misery.
JOVIAN.
And yet,
There are some that still cling to life. I passed
The gate of a temple: it was thronged with maidens
Worn out with famine doubtless, but still lovely.
And there they sat, and sang, and wept, and told
Sad stories, and then wept again. I saw
In an open hall, an old man of fourscore
By his daughter fed on their last loaf—their last:
Ay, o'er that meal he blessed her, and held up
His aged hands, and wished her length of days,
And health, and happiness: thus on the edge
Of a sure grave! I turned away mine eyes,
And in a corner saw a young man steal
123
And drink:—thus misery deforms our nature!
MAXIMUS.
Nay Jovian, nay—time presses us—anon
We can hear this at leisure: and, if you please it,
Weep till our hearts break, at your dolorous stories.
Postpone, postpone.
JULIAN.
Priest! you may have no heart;
I have: Jovian proceed. Aught else?
JOVIAN.
We soldiers
Have but hard hearts at best; yet there was one
That moved my pity deeply—a poor female.
Famine had preyed upon her, and it seemed
As if some grief had left her desolate.
She had a baby in her arms, and moved
Slow, with unsteady step, her head declining.
She heard me as she passed, and languidly
Stopped, and, all trembling, turned aside to gaze.
124
Sunk in their livid chambers, and half hid
'Neath the incumbent lids, were fixed on me
With most intense, painful anxiety.
Tears started, and she turned unto her child,
Kissed it and wept; then turned to me again,
And seemed with her disparted lips to drink
E'en the least word I uttered. There was about her
An air that shewed she had been beautiful,
And knew it—and a something that denoted
Station and breeding; and she still was youthful.
But Nature vainly wars with sickness: thus
Want had anticipated time—the sear
Of sallow winter crept upon her roses,
And hunger made her soft cheek hollow and wan.
JULIAN.
Oh, war, remorseless war! poor gentle creature,
Did she not shrink from thee at last?
JOVIAN.
Alas!
125
Squalid had grown her dress—her breast was bare,
That infant's fount of life and only pillow.
As thus she looked on me, her baby cried,
(Haply at being unnoticed,) and stretched out
His little hands, and wound them round her neck,
And stroked down her poor cheek. Thereat she turned
And gazed upon it wildly, and sank down
Upon her knees and prayed; and to her bosom
Clasped it, and hung her head and wept aloud.
(Julian sits down and covers his face with his hand.
MAXIMUS.
(regarding Julian.
Nay, if he feels it thus, we are ruined. Give me
The axe and I will tear the mine down.
(He takes the axe.
Soldiers!
Remember how you are moulded. Youth of Greece,
Fight for the honour of old Hellas. Think
Of Marathon in th' onset; and if any
Talk of retreat, cry out Thermopylæ.
126
Are gather'd in the Hippodrome, high vaunting
The prowess of their husbands. Men of Italy!
Inheritors of victory! Proud Romans!
Your country sees you from the Capitol.
Charge, and the Gods be with you.
(He strikes the base of a column, which giving way, the mine falls in, and above the mass of ruin the interior of the city is seen. Citizens rush to the breach with wild cries. Assault and repulse. Julian starts up, drawing his sword.)
JULIAN.
Is the deed done?
Then Romans do your duty.
(The breach is at length won. The troops pour into the city.)
| Julian The Apostate | |