102

LORD BYRON

SARDANAPALUS.

And loved her, as most husbands love their wives.

If she or thou supposedst I could link me

Like a Chaldean peasant to his mate,

Ye knew nor me, nor monarchs, nor mankind.

Sale. I pray thee, change the theme; my blood disdains
Complaint, and Salemenes' sister seeks not
Reluctant love, even from Assyria's lord!

Nor would she deign to accept divided passion
With foreign strumpets and Ionian slaves.
The queen is silent.

Sard.

And why not her brother?

Sale. I only echo thee the voice of empires,

Which he who long neglects not long will govern.

Sard. The ungrateful and ungracious slaves! they murmur Because I have not shed their blood, nor led them

To dry into the desert's dust by myriads,

Or whiten with their bones the banks of Ganges;
Nor decimated them with savage laws,

Nor sweated them to build up pyramids,

Or Babylonian walls.

Sale.

Yet these are trophies

More worthy of a people and their prince
Than songs, and lutes, and feasts, and concubines,
And lavish'd treasures, and contemned virtues.

Sard. Oh! for my trophies I have founded cities:
There's Tarsus and Anchialus, both built

In one day what could that blood-loving beldame,
My martial grandam, chaste Semiramis,
except destroy them?

Do more

Sale.

'Tis most true;

I own thy merit in those founded cities,

Built for a whim, recorded with a verse

Which shames both them and thee to coming ages.

Sard. Shame me! By Baal, the cities, though well built,

Are not more goodly than the verse! Say what

Thou wilt against the truth of that brief record,

Why, those few lines contain the history.

Of all things human; hear-Sardanapalus

The king, and son of Anacyndaraxes,

In one day built Anchialus and Tarsus.

6

Eat, drink, and love! the rest's not worth a fillip.'
Sale. A worthy moral and a wise inscription,

For a king to put up before his subjects!

Sard. Oh, thou wouldst have me doubtless set up edicts —

Obey the king- contribute to his treasure

Recruit his phalanx spill your blood at bidding

Fall down and worship, or get up and toil.'

Or thus - Sardanapalus on this spot

Slew fifty thousand of his enemies.

These are their sepulchres, and this his trophy."

And death-where they are neither gods nor men.
Talk not of such to me! the worms are gods;
At least they banqueted upon your gods,

And died for lack of farther nutriment.

Those gods were merely men; look to their issue –

I feel a thousand mortal things about me,

But nothing godlike unless it may be
The thing which you condemn, a disposition
To love and to be merciful; to pardon

The follies of my species, and (that's human)
To be indulgent to my own.".

p. 18-21.

a beauin love with

But the chief charm and vivifying angel of the piece is MYRRHA, the Greek slave of Sardanapalus tiful, heroic, devoted, and ethereal being the generous and infatuated monarch-ashamed of loving a barbarian-and using all her influence over him to ennoble as well as to adorn his existence, and to arm him against the terrors of its close. Her voluptuousness is that of the heart-her heroism of the affections. If the part she takes in the dialogue be sometimes too subdued and submissive for the lofty daring of her character, it is still such as might become a Greek slave

a lovely Ionian girl, in whom the love of liberty and the scorn of death, were tempered by the consciousness of what she regarded as a degrading passion, and an inward sense of fitness and decorum with reference to her condition. The development of this character and its consequences form so material a part of the play, that most of the citations with which we shall illustrate our abstract of it will be found to bear upon it.

Salemenes, in the interview to which we have just alluded, had driven "the Ionian minion" from the royal presence by his reproaches. After his departure, the Monarch again recalls his favourite, and reports to her the warning he had received. Her answer lets us at once into the nobleness and delicacy of her character.

Thou whom he spurn'd so harshly, and now dared
Drive from our presence with his savage jeers,
And made thee weep and blush?

Myr.

I should do both

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

Peril to thee

Sard.

Ay, from dark plots and snares

From Medes-and discontented troops and nations.
I know not what a labyrinth of things

-

A maze of mutter'd 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.

To think of aught save festivals.

Spurn'd his sage cautions?

Sard.

'Tis time

Thou hast not

What? and dost thou fear?

Myr. Fear! I'm a Greek, and how should I fear death?

A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom?

Sard. Then wherefore dost thou turn so pale?
Myr.

I love

far more

Sard. And do not I? I love thee far-
Than either the brief life or the wide realm,
Which, it may be, are menaced; yet I blench not.

Myr.

When he who is their ruler

King, I am your subject!
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?

Sard. 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?
Sard. I speak of woman's love.
Myr.

The very first

Of human life must spring from woman's breast;
Your first small words are taught you from her lips.

MYRRHA.

Your first tears quench'd by her, and your last sighs
Too often breathed out in a woman's hearing,
When men have shrunk from the ignoble care
Of watching the last hour of him who led them.
Sard. 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 About my fathers, or their land!

Sard.

Thou speakest of them.

Myr

Yet oft

True true! constant thought

Will overflow in words unconsciously;

But when another speaks of Greece, it wounds me.

105

Sard. Well, then, how wouldst thou save me, as thou saidst?
Myr. Look to the annals of thine empire's founders.
Sard. They are so blotted o'er with blood, I cannot.
But what wouldst have? the empire has been founded.
I cannot go on multiplying empires.

Myr. Preserve thine own.
Sard.
At least I will enjoy it
Come, Myrrha, let us on to the Euphrates;
The hour invites, the galley is prepared,
And the pavilion, deck'd for our return,
In fit adornment for the evening banquet,
Shall blaze with beauty and with light, until
It seems unto the stars which are above us
Itself an opposite star; and we will sit
Crown'd with fresh flowers like

Myr.

Sard.

Victims.

No, like sovereigns,

The shepherd kings of patriarchal times,

Who knew no brighter gems than summer wreaths,
And none but tearless triumphs. Let us on."- p. 31 36.

The second act, which contains the details of the conspiracy of Arbaces, its detection by the vigilance of Salemenes, and the too rash and hasty forgiveness of the rebels by the King, is, on the whole, heavy and uninteresting. Early in the third act, the royal banquet is disturbed by sudden tidings of treason and revolt; and then the reveller blazes out into the hero, and the Greek blood of Myrrha mounts to its proper office! The following passages are striking. A messenger says,

"Prince Salemenes doth implore the king To arm himself, although but for a moment, And show himself unto the soldiers his

Ho, there!

But seek not for the buckler; 'tis

Too heavy: a light cuirass and my sword.
Myr. How I do love thee!
Sard.

Myr. But now I know thee.
Sard. (arming himself)

Give me the cuirass

I ne'er doubted it.

so: my baldric! now

My sword: I had forgot the helm, where is it?
That's well -no, 'tis too heavy: you mistake, too
It was not this I meant, but that which bears
A diadem around it.

That too conspicuous from the precious stones

To risk your sacred brow beneath — and, trust me,

This is of better metal, though less rich.

Sard. You deem'd! Are you too turn'd a rebel? Fellow!
Your part is to obey: return, and -

-no

It is too late- I will go forth without it.

Sfero. At least wear this.
Sard.

A mountain on my temples.

Wear Caucasus! why, 'tis

Myrrha, retire unto a place of safety.

Why went you not forth with the other damsels ?

Myr. Because my place is here.

I dare all things

The noise of the conflict now reaches her in doubtful clamour; and a soldier comes in, of whom she asks how the King bears himself— and is answered,

Like a king. I must find Sfero,

"Alt.
And bring him a new spear and his own helmet.
He fights till now bare-headed, and by far
Too much exposed. The soldiers knew his face,
And the foe too; and in the moon's broad light,
His silk tiara and his flowing hair

Make him a mark too royal. Every arrow
Is pointed at the fair hair and fair features,
And the broad fillet which crowns both.
The king! the king fights as he revels!
Myr.

'Tis no dishonour

"Tis no dishonour! to have loved this man.
I almost wish now, what I never wish'd