That is, I suffer'd them-from slaves and nobles; But when they falter from the lips I love,

The lips which have been press'd 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

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

And dost thou feel this?

I

Why?

Sar. Myr. Then thou wouldst know what thou canst never know.

To think of aught save festivals. Thou hast not
Spurn'd his sage cautions?
Sar.
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?
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. [dared Sar. Lost!-why, who is the aspiring chief who 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.

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.
Myr.
The very first
Of human life must spring from woman's breast,
Your first small words are taught you from her lips,
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.
Sar. My eloquent Ionian ! thou speak'st music,
The very chorus of the tragic song 2

I have heard thee talk of as the favourite pastime
Of thy far father-land. Nay, weep not- calm thee.
But I pray thee, do not

Myr. I weep not. speak

About my fathers or their land.

chronism. Nor could Myrrha, at so early a period of her country's history, have spoken of their national hatred of kings, or of that which was equally the growth of a later age, their contempt for " barbarians."- HEBER.]

I will not live degraded. Myr.

Hadst thou felt

Thus always, none would ever dare degrade thee.
Sar. And who will do so now?
Myr.

Dost thou suspect none?
Sar. Suspect!-that's a spy's office. Oh! we lose
Ten thousand precious moments in vain words,
And vainer fears. Within there!- Ye slaves, deck
The hall of Nimrod for the evening revel:
If I must make a prison of our palace,

At least we 'll wear our fetters jocundly:

If the Euphrates be forbid us, and

The summer dwelling on its beauteous border,
Here we are still unmenaced.

Ho! within there! [Exit SARDANAPALUS. Myr. (sola). Why do I love this man?

country's daughters

My

Love none but heroes. But I have no country!
The slave hath lost all save her bonds. I love him;
And that's the heaviest link of the long chain-
To love whom we esteem not. Be it so:
The hour is coming when he'll need all love,
And find none. To fall from him now were baser
Than to have stabb'd him on his throne when highest
Would have been noble in my country's creed:
I was not made for either. Could I save him,
I should not love him better, but myself;
And I have need of the last, for I have fallen

In my own thoughts, by loving this soft stranger:
And yet methinks I love him more, perceiving
That he is hated of his own barbarians,
The natural foes of all the blood of Greece.
Could I but wake a single thought like those
Which even the Phrygians felt when battling long
'Twixt Ilion and the sea, within his heart,

He would tread down the barbarous crowds, and triumph.

He loves me, and I love him; the slave loves
Her master, and would free him from his vices.

If not, I have a means of freedom still,
And if I cannot teach him how to reign,

[There are two of Lord Byron's characteristic excellences, which he never leaves behind in his most fantastic expeditions, and which he has accordingly brought into his new domain of classic tragedy. One of these is his intense feeling of the loveliness of woman-his power, not only of picturing individual forms, but of infusing into the very atmosphere which surrounds them the spirit of beauty and of love. A soft roseate light is spread over them, which seems to sink into the soul. The other faculty to which we allude is his

Taking his last look of Assyria's empire.

How red he glares amongst those deepening clouds,
Like the blood he predicts! If not in vain,
Thou sun that sinkest, and ye stars which rise,
I have outwatch'd ye, reading ray by ray
The edicts of your orbs, which make Time tremble
For what he brings the nations, 'tis the furthest
Hour of Assyria's years. And yet how calm!
An earthquake should announce so great a fall-
A summer's sun discloses it. Yon disk,
To the star-read Chaldean, bears upon
Its everlasting page the end of what
Seem'd everlasting; but oh! thou true sun!
The burning oracle of all that live,
As fountain of all life, and symbol of
Him who bestows it, wherefore dost thou limit
Thy lore unto calamity? Why not
Unfold the rise of days more worthy thine
All-glorious burst from ocean? why not dart
A beam of hope athwart the future years,
As of wrath to its days? Hear me! oh, hear me !
I am thy worshipper, thy priest, thy servant-
I have gazed on thee at thy rise and fall,
And bow'd my head beneath thy mid-day beams,
When my eye dared not meet thee. I have watch'd
For thee, and after thee, and pray'd to thee,
And sacrificed to thee, and read, and fear'd thee,
And ask'd of thee, and thou hast answer'd — but
Only to thus much: while I speak, he sinks-
Is gone and leaves his beauty, not his knowledge,
To the delighted west, which revels in
Its hues of dying glory. Yet what is
Death, so it be but glorious? 'Tis a sunset;
And mortals may be happy to resemble
The gods but in decay.

comprehensive sympathy with the vastest objects in the material universe. There is scarcely any pure description of individual scenes in all his works; but the noblest allusions to the grandeurs of earth and heaven. He pays "no allegiance but to the elements." The moon, the stars, the ocean, the mountain desert, are endowed by him with new "speech and language," and send to the heart their mighty voices. He can interpret between us and the firmament, or give us all the sentiment of an everlasting solitude. - Anon.]

Bel. And midst them, mark Yon earliest, and the brightest, which so quivers, As it would quit its place in the blue ether. Arb. Well? Bel.

'Tis thy natal ruler-thy birth planet.

Arb. (touching his scabbard). My star is in this scabbard when it shines,

:

And yet it almost shames me, we shall have
So little to effect. This woman's warfare

Degrades the very conqueror. To have pluck'd
A bold and bloody despot from his throne,
And grappled with him, clashing steel with steel,
That were heroic or to win or fall;

But to upraise my sword against this silkworm,
And hear him whine, it may be-
Bel.

Do not deem it; He has that in him which may make you strife yet; And were he all you think, his guards are hardy, And headed by the cool, stern Salemenes.

Bel. (to Arb. aside). Hush! let him go his way. (Alternately to Bal.) Yes, Balea, thank the monarch, kiss the hem

Of his imperial robe, and say, his slaves
Will take the crumbs he deigns to scatter from
His royal table at the hour-was 't midnight?

Bal. It was: the place, the hall of Nimrod. Lords, I humble me before you, and depart. [Exit BALEA. Arb. I like not this same sudden change of place; There is some mystery: wherefore should he change it?

Bel. Doth he not change a thousand times a day? Sloth is of all things the most fanciful.

And moves more parasangs in its intents
Than generals in their marches, when they seek
To leave their foe at fault. Why dost thou muse?
Arb. He loved that gay pavilion, it was ever
His summer dotage.

Bel.

And he loved his queen —

And thrice a thousand harlotry besides— And he has loved all things by turns, except Wisdom and glory.

Arb.

Still I like it not.

If he has changed-why, so must we: the attack Were easy in the isolated bower,

Beset with drowsy guards and drunken courtiers: But in the hall of Nimrod

But elsewhere than the palace.

Sal. 'T is not the hour.

Alone! foolish slave

Sal What is there in thee that a prince should shrink from Of open force? We dread thy treason, not [venom Thy strength: thy tooth is nought without its The serpent's, not the lion's. Cut him down.

Bel. (interposing). Arbaces! are you mad? Have I not render'd [justice. My sword? Then trust like me our sovereign's Arb. No-I will sooner trust the stars thou prat'st And this slight arm, and die a king at least Of my own breath and body—so far that None else shall chain them.

Sal. (to the Guards).

Take him not,- kill.

Sal.

[of,

You hear him, and me.

[The Guards attack ARBACES, who defends himself valiantly and dexterously till they

waver.

Is it even so; and must I do the hangman's office? Recreants! see you should fell a traitor.

How

Sal. Yes! and let the king confirm it. Sar. I parted not from this for such a purpose. Sal. You parted with it for your safety-I Employ'd it for the best. Pronounce in person. Here I am but your slave-a moment past I was your representative.

Sar. Your swords.

Then sheathe

[ARBACES and SALEMENES return their swords

to the scabbards.

Sal. Mine's sheathed: I pray you sheathe not yours: "Tis the sole sceptre left you now with safety.

Sar. A heavy one; the hilt, too, hurts my hand. (To a Guard.) Here, fellow, take thy weapon back. Well, sirs,

What doth this mean?

Bel.

The prince must answer that. Sal. Truth upon my part, treason upon theirs. Sar. Treason-Arbaces! treachery and Beleses! That were an union I will not believe. Bel. Where is the proof? Sal.

I'll answer that, if once The king demands your fellow-traitor's sword. Arb. (to Sal.). A sword which hath been drawn as oft as thine

Against his foes.

Sal.
And now against his brother,
And in an hour or so against himself.

Sar. That is not possible: he dared not; noNo I'll not hear of such things. These vain bickerings

Are spawn'd in courts by base intrigues, and baser
Hirelings, who live by lies on good men's lives.
You must have been deceived, my brother.
Sal.

Let him deliver up his weapon, and
Proclaim himself your subject by that duty,
And I will answer all.

:

- No,

First

Sar. Why, if I thought soBut no, it cannot be the Mede ArbacesThe trusty, rough, true soldier-the best captain Of all who discipline our nationsI'll not insult him thus, to bid him render The scimitar to me he never yielded Unto our enemies. Chief, keep your weapon. Sal. (delivering back the signet).

Sar.

back your signet.

Monarch, take

No, retain it;

Sire,

But use it with more moderation.

Sal.