And thou may'st yet be glorious in thy reign,

As powerful in thy realm. Farewell! [Exit SALEMENES.
Sar. (solus).
Farewell!

He's gone; and on his finger bears my signet,
Which is to him a sceptre. He is stern
As I am heedless; and the slaves deserve
To feel a master. What may be the danger,
I know not: he hath found it, let him quell it.
Must I consumé my life-this little life-
In guarding against all may make it less ?
It is not worth so much! It were to die
Before my hour, to live in dread of death,
Tracing revolt; suspecting all about me,
Because they are near; and all who are remote,
Because they are far.

But if it should be so

If they should sweep me off from Earth and Empire,

Why, what is Earth or Empire of the Earth?

390

I have loved, and lived, and multiplied my image; 400
To die is no less natural than those

Acts of this clay! 'Tis true I have not shed
Blood as I might have done, in oceans, till
My name became the synonyme of Death-
A terror and a trophy. But for this
I feel no penitence; my life is love :
If I must shed blood, it shall be by force.
Till now, no drop from an Assyrian vein
Hath flowed for me, nor hath the smallest coin
Of Nineveh's vast treasures e'er been lavished
On objects which could cost her sons a tear:
If then they hate me, 'tis because I hate not:

If they rebel, 'tis because I oppress not.

410

Oh, men! ye must be ruled with scythes, not sceptres, And mowed down like the grass, else all we reap

Is rank abundance, and a rotten harvest

Of discontents infecting the fair soil,

Making a desert of fertility.

I'll think no more.

-Within there, ho!

Enter an ATTENDANT.

Sar.

Slave, tell

The Ionian Myrrha we would crave her presence.

Attend. King, she is here.

420

MYRRHA enters.

Sar. (apart to Attendant). Away! (Addressing MYRRHA.)

Thou dost almost anticipate my heart;

Beautiful being!

It throbbed for thee, and here thou comest: let me
Deem that some unknown influence, some sweet oracle,
Communicates between us, though unseen,

In absence, and attracts us to each other.
Myr. There doth.

Sar.

What is it?

Myr.

I know there doth, but not its name:

In my native land a God,
And in my heart a feeling like a God's,
Exalted; yet I own 'tis only mortal;
For what I feel is humble, and yet happy-
That is, it would be happy; but-

Sar.

430

MYRRHA pauses. There comes

For ever something between us and what
We deem our happiness: let me remove
The barrier which that hesitating accent
Proclaims to thine, and mine is sealed.
Myr.
Sar. My Lord-my King-Sire-Sovereign; thus it

1S

My Lord!—

For ever thus, addressed with awe. I ne'er

Can see a smile, unless in some broad banquet's
Intoxicating glare, when the buffoons

Have gorged themselves up to equality,

440

Or I have quaffed me down to their abasement.
Myrrha, I can hear all these things, these names,
Lord-King-Sire-Monarch-nay, time was I prized

them;

That is, I suffered them—from slaves and nobles;
But when they falter from the lips I love,
The lips which have been pressed to mine, a chill
Comes o'er my heart, a cold sense of the falsehood
Of this my station, which represses feeling

In those for whom I have felt most, and makes me
Wish that I could lay down the dull tiara,
And share a cottage on the Caucasus

450

With thee-and wear no crowns but those of flowers.
Myr. Would that we could!

Sar.

And dost thou feel this ?-Why?

Myr. Then thou wouldst know what thou canst never

Myr.
Sar.

Myr. Not one! the time may come thou may'st.
Sar.

Hear, Myrrha; Salemenes has declared

Or why or how he hath divined it, Belus,

It will.

Who founded our great realm, knows more than I—
But Salemenes hath declared my throne

In peril.

Myr. He did well.

Sar.

And say'st thou so?

Thou whom he spurned so harshly, and now daredi
Drive from our presence with his savage jeers,
And made thee weep and blush?

I should do both

Myr.
More frequently, and he did well to call me
Back to my duty. But thou spakest of peril

Peril to thee

Sar.

460

Aye, from dark plots and snares 470

From Medes-and discontented troops and nations.

I know not what-a labyrinth of things

A maze of muttered threats and mysteries:

Thou know'st the man-it is his usual custom.

But he is honest. Come, we'll think no more on't-
But of the midnight festival.

Myr.

'Tis time

To think of aught save festivals. Thou hast not
Spurned his sage cautions?

Sar.

i.

What?-and dost thou fear?

and even dared

Profane our presence with his savage jeers.—[MS. M.]

Myr. Fear -I'm a Greek, and how should I fear

death?

A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom? 480
Sar. Then wherefore dost thou turn so pale?
Myr.

I love.
Sar. And do not I? I love thee far-far more
Than either the brief life or the wide realm,
Which, it may be, are menaced ;-yet I blench not.
Myr. That means thou lovest nor thyself nor me;
For he who loves another loves himself,

Even for that other's sake. This is too rash:

Kingdoms and lives are not to be so lost.

Sar. Lost!-why, who is the aspiring chief who dared Assume to win them?

Myr.

Who is he should dread
To try so much? When he who is their ruler
Forgets himself-will they remember him?
Sar. Myrrha !

Myr.

490

Frown not upon me: you have smiled
Too often on me not to make those frowns
Bitterer to bear than any punishment

Which they may augur.-King, I am your subject!
Master, I am your slave! Man, I have loved you !—
Loved you, I know not by what fatal weakness,
Although a Greek, and born a foe to monarchs-
A slave, and hating fetters-an Ionian,
And, therefore, when I love a stranger, more
Degraded by that passion than by chains!
Still I have loved you.

If that love were strong

Enough to overcome all former nature,

Shall it not claim the privilege to save you?
Sar. Save me, my beauty! Thou art very fair,
And what I seek of thee is love-not safety.

Myr. And without love where dwells security?
Sar. I speak of woman's love.

The very first

Myr.
Of human life must spring from woman's breast,
Your first small words are taught you from her lips,
Your first tears quenched by her, and your last sighs
Too often breathed out in a woman's hearing,
When men have shrunk from the ignoble care

500

510

Of watching the last hour of him who led them.
Sar. My eloquent Ionian! thou speak'st music:
The very chorus of the tragic song

I have heard thee talk of as the favourite pastime
Of thy far father-land. Nay, weep not-calm thee.
Myr. I weep not.-But I pray thee, do not speak 520
About my fathers or their land.

Sar.

Thou speakest of them.

Myr.

Yet oft

True-true constant thought

Will overflow in words unconsciously;

But when another speaks of Greeks, it wounds me.
Sar. Well, then, how wouldst thou save me, as thou
saidst?

Myr. By teaching thee to save thyself, and not
Thyself alone, but these vast realms, from all
The rage of the worst war-the war of brethren.
Sar. Why, child, I loathe all war, and warriors;
I live in peace and pleasure: what can man
Do more?

530

Myr. Alas! my Lord, with common men There needs too oft the show of war to keep The substance of sweet peace; and, for a king, "Tis sometimes better to be feared than loved. Sar. And I have never sought but for the last. Myr. And now art neither. Sar. Dost thou say so, Myrrha ? Myr. I speak of civic popular love, self-love, Which means that men are kept in awe and law, Yet not oppressed—at least they must not think so, Or, if they think so, deem it necessary, To ward off worse oppression, their own passions. A King of feasts, and flowers, and wine, and revel, And love, and mirth, was never King of Glory. Sar. Glory! what's that? Myr.

540

Ask of the Gods thy fathers. Sar. They cannot answer; when the priests speak for

them,

"Tis for some small addition to the temple.

Myr. Look to the annals of thine Empire's founders. Sar. They are so blotted o'er with blood, I cannot.

VOL. V.

D