Sardanapalus (Act 5)

Myrrha And Balea Myr. (at a window)[28] The day at last has broken. What a night Hath ushered it! How beautiful in heaven! Though varied with a transitory storm, More beautiful in that variety! How hideous upon earth! where Peace and Hope, And Love and Revel, in an hour were trampled By human passions to a human chaos, Not yet resolved to separate elements— 'Tis warring still! And can the sun so rise, So bright, so rolling back the clouds into Vapours more lovely than the unclouded sky, With golden pinnacles, and snowy mountains, And billows purpler than the Ocean's, making In heaven a glorious mockery of the earth, So like we almost deem it permanent; So fleeting, we can scarcely call it aught[95] Beyond a vision, 'tis so transiently Scattered along the eternal vault: and yet It dwells upon the soul, and soothes the soul, And blends itself into the soul, until Sunrise and sunset form the haunted epoch Of Sorrow and of Love; which they who mark not, Know not the realms where those twin genii[al] (Who chasten and who purify our hearts, So that we would not change their sweet rebukes For all the boisterous joys that ever shook The air with clamour) build the palaces Where their fond votaries repose and breathe Briefly;—but in that brief cool calm inhale Enough of heaven to enable them to bear The rest of common, heavy, human hours, And dream them through in placid sufferance, Though seemingly employed like all the rest Of toiling breathers in allotted tasks[am] Of pain or pleasure, two names for one feeling, Which our internal, restless agony Would vary in the sound, although the sense Escapes our highest efforts to be happy. Bal. You muse right calmly: and can you so watch The sunrise which may be our last? Myr.‍It is40 Therefore that I so watch it, and reproach Those eyes, which never may behold it more, For having looked upon it oft, too oft, Without the reverence and the rapture due To that which keeps all earth from being as fragile As I am in this form. Come, look upon it, The Chaldee's God, which, when I gaze upon, I grow almost a convert to your Baal. Bal. As now he reigns in heaven, so once on earth He swayed. Myr.‍He sways it now far more, then; never[96] Had earthly monarch half the power and glory Which centres in a single ray of his. Bal. Surely he is a God! Myr.‍So we Greeks deem too; And yet I sometimes think that gorgeous orb Must rather be the abode of Gods than one Of the immortal sovereigns. Now he breaks Through all the clouds, and fills my eyes with light That shuts the world out. I can look no more. Bal. Hark! heard you not a sound? Myr.‍No, 'twas mere fancy; They battle it beyond the wall, and not As in late midnight conflict in the very Chambers: the palace has become a fortress Since that insidious hour; and here, within The very centre, girded by vast courts And regal halls of pyramid proportions, Which must be carried one by one before They penetrate to where they then arrived, We are as much shut in even from the sound Of peril as from glory. Bal.‍But they reached Thus far before. Myr.‍Yes, by surprise, and were Beat back by valour: now at once we have Courage and vigilance to guard us. Bal.‍May they Prosper! Myr.‍That is the prayer of many, and The dread of more: it is an anxious hour; I strive to keep it from my thoughts. Alas! How vainly! Bal.‍It is said the King's demeanour In the late action scarcely more appalled The rebels than astonished his true subjects. Myr. 'Tis easy to astonish or appal The vulgar mass which moulds a horde of slaves; But he did bravely. Bal.‍Slew he not Beleses? I heard the soldiers say he struck him down. Myr. The wretch was overthrown, but rescued to[97] Triumph, perhaps, o'er one who vanquished him In fight, as he had spared him in his peril; And by that heedless pity risked a crown. Bal.‍Hark! Myr. You are right; some steps approach, but slowly. Enter Soldiers, bearing in Salemenes wounded, with a broken javelin in his side: they seat him upon one of the couches which furnish the Apartment. Myr. Oh, Jove! Bal.‍Then all is over. Sal.‍That is false. Hew down the slave who says so, if a soldier. Myr. Spare him—he's none: a mere court butterfly, That flutter in the pageant of a monarch. Sal. Let him live on, then. Myr.‍So wilt thou, I trust. Sal. I fain would live this hour out, and the event, But doubt it. Wherefore did ye bear me here? Sol. By the King's order. When the javelin struck you, You fell and fainted: 'twas his strict command To bear you to this hall. Sal.‍'Twas not ill done: For seeming slain in that cold dizzy trance, The sight might shake our soldiers—but—'tis vain, I feel it ebbing! Myr.‍Let me see the wound; I am not quite skilless: in my native land 'Tis part of our instruction. War being constant, We are nerved to look on such things.[an] Sol.‍Best extract The javelin. Myr.‍Hold! no, no, it cannot be. Sal. I am sped, then! Myr.‍With the blood that fast must follow The extracted weapon, I do fear thy life. Sal. And I not death. Where was the King when you Conveyed me from the spot where I was stricken?[98] Sol. Upon the same ground, and encouraging With voice and gesture the dispirited troops Who had seen you fall, and faltered back. Sal.‍Whom heard ye Named next to the command? Sol.‍I did not hear. Sal. Fly, then, and tell him, 'twas my last request That Zames take my post until the junction, So hoped for, yet delayed, of Ofratanes, Satrap of Susa. Leave me here: our troops Are not so numerous as to spare your absence. Sol. But Prince—— Sal.‍Hence, I say! Here's a courtier and A woman, the best chamber company. As you would not permit me to expire Upon the field, I'll have no idle soldiers About my sick couch. Hence! and do my bidding! [Exeunt the Soldiers. Myr. Gallant and glorious Spirit! must the earth So soon resign thee? Sal.‍Gentle Myrrha, 'tis The end I would have chosen, had I saved The monarch or the monarchy by this; As 'tis, I have not outlived them. Myr.‍You wax paler. Sal. Your hand; this broken weapon but prolongs My pangs, without sustaining life enough To make me useful: I would draw it forth And my life with it, could I but hear how The fight goes. Enter Sardanapalus and Soldiers. Sar.‍My best brother! Sal.‍And the battle Is lost? Sar. (despondingly). You see me here. Sal.‍I'd rather see you thus! [He draws out the weapon from the wound, and dies. Sar. And thus I will be seen; unless the succour, The last frail reed of our beleagured hopes,[99] Arrive with Ofratanes. Myr.‍Did you not Receive a token from your dying brother, Appointing Zames chief? Sar.‍I did. Myr.‍Where's Zames? Sar. Dead. Myr.‍And Altada? Sar.‍Dying. Myr.‍Pania? Sfero? Sar. Pania yet lives; but Sfero's fled or captive. I am alone. Myr.‍And is all lost? Sar.‍Our walls, Though thinly manned, may still hold out against Their present force, or aught save treachery: But i' the field—— Myr.‍I thought 'twas the intent Of Salemenes not to risk a sally Till ye were strengthened by the expected succours. Sar. I over-ruled him. Myr.‍Well, the fault's a brave one. Sar. But fatal. Oh, my brother! I would give These realms, of which thou wert the ornament, The sword and shield, the sole-redeeming honour, To call back——But I will not weep for thee; Thou shall be mourned for as thou wouldst be mourned. It grieves me most that thou couldst quit this life Believing that I could survive what thou Hast died for—our long royalty of race. If I redeem it, I will give thee blood Of thousands, tears of millions, for atonement, (The tears of all the good are thine already). If not, we meet again soon,—if the spirit Within us lives beyond:—thou readest mine, And dost me justice now. Let me once clasp That yet warm hand, and fold that throbless heart [Embraces the body. To this which beats so bitterly. Now, bear The body hence. Sol.‍Where?[100] Sar.‍To my proper chamber. Place it beneath my canopy, as though The King lay there: when this is done, we will Speak further of the rites due to such ashes. [Exeunt Soldiers with the body of Salemenes. Enter Pania. Sar. Well, Pania! have you placed the guards, and issued The orders fixed on? Pan.‍Sire, I have obeyed. Sar. And do the soldiers keep their hearts up? Pan.‍Sire?170 Sar. I am answered! When a king asks twice, and has A question as an answer to his question, It is a portent. What! they are disheartened? Pan. The death of Salemenes, and the shouts Of the exulting rebels on his fall, Have made them—— Sar.‍Rage—not droop—it should have been. We'll find the means to rouse them. Pan.‍Such a loss Might sadden even a victory. Sar.‍Alas! Who can so feel it as I feel? but yet, Though cooped within these walls, they are strong, and we Have those without will break their way through hosts, To make their sovereign's dwelling what it was— A palace, not a prison—nor a fortress. Enter an Officer, hastily. Sar. Thy face seems ominous. Speak! Offi.‍I dare not. Sar.‍Dare not? While millions dare revolt with sword in hand! That's strange. I pray thee break that loyal silence Which loathes to shock its sovereign; we can hear Worse than thou hast to tell. Pan.‍Proceed—thou hearest.[101] Offi. The wall which skirted near the river's brink Is thrown down by the sudden inundation Of the Euphrates, which now rolling, swoln From the enormous mountains where it rises, By the late rains of that tempestuous region, O'erfloods its banks, and hath destroyed the bulwark. Pan. That's a black augury! it has been said For ages, "That the City ne'er should yield To man, until the River grew its foe." Sar. I can forgive the omen, not the ravage. How much is swept down of the wall? Offi.‍About Some twenty stadia.[29] Sar.‍And all this is left Pervious to the assailants? Offi.‍For the present The River's fury must impede the assault; But when he shrinks into his wonted channel, And may be crossed by the accustomed barks, The palace is their own. Sar.‍That shall be never. Though men, and gods, and elements, and omens, Have risen up 'gainst one who ne'er provoked them, My father's house shall never be a cave For wolves to horde and howl in. Pan.‍With your sanction, I will proceed to the spot, and take such measures For the assurance of the vacant space As time and means permit. Sar.‍About it straight, And bring me back, as speedily as full And fair investigation may permit, Report of the true state of this irruption Of waters. [Exeunt Pania and the Officer. Myr.‍Thus the very waves rise up Against you. Sar.‍They are not my subjects, girl, And may be pardoned, since they can't be punished. Myr. I joy to see this portent shakes you not. Sar. I am past the fear of portents: they can tell me[102] Nothing I have not told myself since midnight: Despair anticipates such things. Myr.‍Despair! Sar. No; not despair precisely. When we know All that can come, and how to meet it, our Resolves, if firm, may merit a more noble Word than this is to give it utterance. But what are words to us? we have well nigh done With them and all things. Myr.‍Save one deed—the last And greatest to all mortals; crowning act Of all that was, or is, or is to be— The only thing common to all mankind, So different in their births, tongues, sexes, natures, Hues, features, climes, times, feelings, intellects,[ao] Without one point of union save in this— To which we tend, for which we're born, and thread The labyrinth of mystery, called life. Sar. Our clue being well nigh wound out, let's be cheerful. They who have nothing more to fear may well Indulge a smile at that which once appalled; As children at discovered bugbears. Re-enter Pania. Pan.‍'Tis As was reported: I have ordered there A double guard, withdrawing from the wall, Where it was strongest, the required addition To watch the breach occasioned by the waters. Sar. You have done your duty faithfully, and as My worthy Pania! further ties between us Draw near a close—I pray you take this key: [Gives a key. It opens to a secret chamber, placed Behind the couch in my own chamber—(Now Pressed by a nobler weight than e'er it bore— Though a long line of sovereigns have lain down Along its golden frame—as bearing for[103] A time what late was Salemenes.)—Search The secret covert to which this will lead you; 'Tis full of treasure;[30] take it for yourself And your companions:[ap] there's enough to load ye, Though ye be many. Let the slaves be freed, too; And all the inmates of the palace, of Whatever sex, now quit it in an hour. Thence launch the regal barks, once formed for pleasure, And now to serve for safety, and embark. The river's broad and swoln, and uncommanded, (More potent than a king) by these besiegers. Fly! and be happy! Pan.‍Under your protection! So you accompany your faithful guard. Sar. No, Pania! that must not be; get thee hence, And leave me to my fate. Pan.‍'Tis the first time I ever disobeyed: but now—— Sar.‍So all men Dare beard me now, and Insolence within Apes Treason from without. Question no further; 'Tis my command, my last command. Wilt thou Oppose it? thou! Pan.‍But yet—not yet. Sar.‍Well, then, Swear that you will obey when I shall give The signal. Pan.‍With a heavy but true heart, I promise. Sar.‍'Tis enough. Now order here Faggots, pine-nuts, and withered leaves, and such Things as catch fire and blaze with one sole spark; Bring cedar, too, and precious drugs, and spices, And mighty planks, to nourish a tall pile; Bring frankincense and myrrh, too, for it is For a great sacrifice I build the pyre![104] And heap them round yon throne. Pan.‍My Lord! Sar.‍I have said it, And you have sworn. Pan.‍And could keep my faith Without a vow. [Exit Pania. Myr.‍What mean you? Sar.‍You shall know Anon—what the whole earth shall ne'er forget. Pania, returning with a Herald. Pan. My King, in going forth upon my duty, This herald has been brought before me, craving An audience. Sar.‍Let him speak. Her.‍The King Arbaces—— Sar. What, crowned already?—But, proceed. Her.‍Beleses, The anointed High-priest—— Sar.‍Of what god or demon? With new kings rise new altars. But, proceed; You are sent to prate your master's will, and not Reply to mine. Her.‍And Satrap Ofratanes—— Sar. Why, he is ours. Her. (showing a ring). Be sure that he is now In the camp of the conquerors; behold His signet ring. Sar.‍'Tis his. A worthy triad! Poor Salemenes! thou hast died in time To see one treachery the less: this man Was thy true friend and my most trusted subject. Proceed. Her.‍They offer thee thy life, and freedom Of choice to single out a residence In any of the further provinces, Guarded and watched, but not confined in person, Where thou shalt pass thy days in peace; but on Condition that the three young princes are Given up as hostages.[105] Sar. (ironically).‍The generous Victors! Her. I wait the answer. Sar.‍Answer, slave! How long Have slaves decided on the doom of kings? Her. Since they were free. Sar.‍Mouthpiece of mutiny! Thou at the least shalt learn the penalty Of treason, though its proxy only. Pania! Let his head be thrown from our walls within The rebels' lines, his carcass down the river. Away with him! [Pania and the Guards seizing him. Pan.‍I never yet obeyed Your orders with more pleasure than the present. Hence with him, soldiers! do not soil this hall Of royalty with treasonable gore; Put him to rest without. Her.‍A single word: My office, King, is sacred. Sar.‍And what's mine? That thou shouldst come and dare to ask of me To lay it down? Her.‍I but obeyed my orders, At the same peril if refused, as now Incurred by my obedience. Sar.‍So there are New monarchs of an hour's growth as despotic As sovereigns swathed in purple, and enthroned From birth to manhood! Her.‍My life waits your breath. Yours (I speak humbly)—but it may be—yours May also be in danger scarce less imminent: Would it then suit the last hours of a line Such as is that of Nimrod, to destroy A peaceful herald, unarmed, in his office; And violate not only all that man Holds sacred between man and man—but that More holy tie which links us with the Gods? Sar. He's right.—Let him go free.—My life's last act Shall not be one of wrath. Here, fellow, take [Gives him a golden cup from a table near. This golden goblet, let it hold your wine,[106] And think of me; or melt it into ingots, And think of nothing but their weight and value. Her. I thank you doubly for my life, and this Most gorgeous gift, which renders it more precious. But must I bear no answer? Sar.‍Yes,—I ask An hour's truce to consider. Her.‍But an hour's? Sar. An hour's: if at the expiration of That time your masters hear no further from me, They are to deem that I reject their terms, And act befittingly. Her.‍I shall not fail To be a faithful legate of your pleasure. Sar. And hark! a word more. Her.‍I shall not forget it, Whate'er it be. Sar.‍Commend me to Beleses; And tell him, ere a year expire, I summon Him hence to meet me. Her.‍Where? Sar.‍At Babylon. At least from thence he will depart to meet me. Her. I shall obey you to the letter. [Exit Herald. Sar.‍Pania!— Now, my good Pania!—quick—with what I ordered. Pan. My Lord,—the soldiers are already charged. And see! they enter. Soldiers enter, and form a Pile about the Throne, etc.[31] Sar.‍Higher, my good soldiers, And thicker yet; and see that the foundation[107] Be such as will not speedily exhaust Its own too subtle flame; nor yet be quenched With aught officious aid would bring to quell it. Let the throne form the core of it; I would not Leave that, save fraught with fire unquenchable, To the new comers. Frame the whole as if 'Twere to enkindle the strong tower of our Inveterate enemies. Now it bears an aspect! How say you, Pania, will this pile suffice For a King's obsequies? Pan.‍Aye, for a kingdom's. I understand you, now. Sar.‍And blame me? Pan.‍No— Let me but fire the pile, and share it with you. Myr. That duty's mine. Pan.‍A woman's! Myr.‍'Tis the soldier's Part to die for his sovereign, and why not The woman's with her lover? Pan.‍'Tis most strange! Myr. But not so rare, my Pania, as thou think'st it. In the mean time, live thou.—Farewell! the pile Is ready.[108] Pan.‍I should shame to leave my sovereign With but a single female to partake His death. Sar.‍Too many far have heralded Me to the dust already. Get thee hence; Enrich thee. Pan.‍And live wretched! Sar.‍Think upon Thy vow:—'tis sacred and irrevocable. Pan. Since it is so, farewell. Sar.‍Search well my chamber, Feel no remorse at bearing off the gold; Remember, what you leave you leave the slaves Who slew me: and when you have borne away All safe off to your boats, blow one long blast Upon the trumpet as you quit the palace. The river's brink is too remote, its stream Too loud at present to permit the echo To reach distinctly from its banks. Then fly,— And as you sail, turn back; but still keep on Your way along the Euphrates: if you reach The land of Paphlagonia, where the Queen Is safe with my three sons in Cotta's court, Say what you saw at parting, and request That she remember what I said at one Parting more mournful still. Pan.‍That royal hand! Let me then once more press it to my lips; And these poor soldiers who throng round you, and Would fain die with you! The Soldiers and Pania throng round him, kissing his hand and the hem of his robe. Sar.‍My best! my last friends! Let's not unman each other: part at once: All farewells should be sudden, when for ever, Else they make an eternity of moments, And clog the last sad sands of life with tears. Hence, and be happy: trust me, I am not Now to be pitied; or far more for what Is past than present;—for the future, 'tis In the hands of the deities, if such[109] There be: I shall know soon. Farewell—Farewell. [Exeunt Pania and Soldiers. Myr. These men were honest: it is comfort still That our last looks should be on loving faces. Sar. And lovely ones, my beautiful!—but hear me! If at this moment,—for we now are on The brink,—thou feel'st an inward shrinking from This leap through flame into the future, say it: I shall not love thee less; nay, perhaps more, For yielding to thy nature: and there's time Yet for thee to escape hence. Myr.‍Shall I light One of the torches which lie heaped beneath The ever-burning lamp that burns without, Before Baal's shrine, in the adjoining hall? Sar. Do so. Is that thy answer? Myr.‍Thou shalt see. [Exit Myrrha. Sar. (solus). She's firm. My fathers! whom I will rejoin, It may be, purified by death from some Of the gross stains of too material being, I would not leave your ancient first abode To the defilement of usurping bondmen; If I have not kept your inheritance As ye bequeathed it, this bright part of it, Your treasure—your abode—your sacred relics Of arms, and records—monuments, and spoils, In which they would have revelled, I bear with me To you in that absorbing element, Which most personifies the soul as leaving The least of matter unconsumed before Its fiery workings:—and the light of this Most royal of funereal pyres shall be[aq] Not a mere pillar formed of cloud and flame, A beacon in the horizon for a day, And then a mount of ashes—but a light[ar] To lesson ages, rebel nations, and Voluptuous princes. Time shall quench full many[110] A people's records, and a hero's acts; Sweep empire after empire, like this first Of empires, into nothing; but even then Shall spare this deed of mine, and hold it up A problem few dare imitate, and none Despise—but, it may be, avoid the life Which led to such a consummation. Myrrha returns with a lighted Torch in one Hand, and a Cup in the other. Myr.‍Lo! I've lit the lamp which lights us to the stars. Sar. And the cup? Myr.‍'Tis my country's custom to Make a libation to the Gods. Sar.‍And mine To make libations amongst men. I've not Forgot the custom; and although alone, Will drain one draught in memory of many A joyous banquet past. Sardanapalus takes the cup, and after drinking and tinkling the reversed cup, as a drop falls, exclaims— And this libation Is for the excellent Beleses. Myr.‍Why Dwells thy mind rather upon that man's name Than on his mate's in villany? Sar.‍The other Is a mere soldier, a mere tool, a kind Of human sword in a friend's hand; the other Is master-mover of his warlike puppet; But I dismiss them from my mind.—Yet pause, My Myrrha! dost thou truly follow me, Freely and fearlessly? Myr.‍And dost thou think A Greek girl dare not do for love, that which An Indian widow braves for custom?[as][111] Sar.‍Then We but await the signal. Myr.‍It is long In sounding. Sar.‍Now, farewell; one last embrace. Myr. Embrace, but not the last; there is one more. Sar. True, the commingling fire will mix our ashes. Myr. And pure as is my love to thee, shall they, Purged from the dross of earth, and earthly passion, Mix pale with thine. A single thought yet irks me. Sar. Say it. Myr.‍It is that no kind hand will gather The dust of both into one urn. Sar.‍The better: Rather let them be borne abroad upon The winds of heaven, and scattered into air, Than be polluted more by human hands Of slaves and traitors. In this blazing palace, And its enormous walls of reeking ruin, We leave a nobler monument than Egypt Hath piled in her brick mountains, o'er dead kings,[32] Or kine—for none know whether those proud piles Be for their monarch, or their ox-god Apis: So much for monuments that have forgotten Their very record! Myr.‍Then farewell, thou earth! And loveliest spot of earth! farewell, Ionia! Be thou still free and beautiful, and far Aloof from desolation! My last prayer490 Was for thee, my last thoughts, save one, were of thee! Sar. And that? Myr.‍Is yours. [The trumpet of Pania sounds without.[112] Sar.‍Hark! Myr.‍Now! Sar.‍Adieu, Assyria! I loved thee well, my own, my fathers' land, And better as my country than my kingdom. I sated thee with peace and joys; and this Is my reward! and now I owe thee nothing, Not even a grave. [He mounts the pile. Now, Myrrha! Myr.‍Art thou ready? Sar. As the torch in thy grasp. [Myrrha fires the pile. Myr.‍'Tis fired! I come.