Salemenes, (solus.) He hath wrong'd his queen, but still he is her lord;
He hath wrong'd my sister, still he is my brother; He hath wrong'd his people, still he is their sovereign,
And I must be his friend as well as subject:
He must not perish thus. I will not see The blood of Nimrod and Semiramis
Sink in the earth, and thirteen hundred years Of empire ending like a shepherd's tale; He must be roused. In his effeminate heart There is a careless courage which corruption Has not all quench'd, and latent energies, Repress'd by circumstance, but not destroy'd- Steep'd, but not drown'd, in deep voluptuousness. If born a peasant, he had been a man
To have reach'd an empire; to an empire born, He will bequeath none; nothing but a name, Which his sons will not prize in heritage :- Yet, not all lost, even yet he may redeem His sloth and shame, by only being that Which he should be, as easily as the thing He should not be and is. Were it less toil
To sway his nations than consume his life? To head an army than to rule a harem ?
He sweats in palling pleasures, dulls his soul,
And saps his goodly strength, in toils which yield
Health like the chase, nor glory like the war- He must be roused. Alas! there is no sound
[Sound of soft music heard from within. To rouse him short of thunder. Hark! the lute, The lyre, the timbrel; the lascivious tinklings Of lulling instruments, the softening voices Of women, and of beings less than women, Must chime in to the echo of his revel, While the great king of all we know of earth Lolls crown'd with roses, and his diadem Lies negligently by to be caught up
By the first manly hand which dares to snatch it. Lo, where they come! already I perceive The reeking odors of the perfumed trains, And see the bright gems of the glittering girls, At once his chorus and his council, flash Along the gallery, and amidst the damsels, As femininely garb'd, and scarce less female, The grandson of Semiramis, the man-queen. He comes! Shall I await him? yes, and front him, And tell him what all good men tell each other, Speaking of him and his. They come, the slaves, Led by the monarch subject to his slaves.
Enter SARDANAPALUS effeminately dressed, his head crowned with flowers, and his robe negligently flowing, attended by a train of women and young slaves.
Sar. (speaking to some of his attendants.; Let the pavilion over the Euphrates Be garlanded, and lit, and furnish'd forth
For an especial banquet; at the hour
Of midnight we will sup there: see nought wanting And bid the gallery be prepared. There is
A cooling breeze which crisps the broad clear river We will embark anon. Fair nymphs, who deign To share the soft hours of Sardanapalus, We'll meet again in that the sweetest hour, When we shall gather like the stars above us, And you will form a heaven as bright as theirs Till then, let each be mistress of her time, And thou, my own Ionian Myrrha,' choose, Wilt thou along with them or me?
Myr. My lord- Sar. My lord, my life! why answereth thou sc
Thy own sweet will shall be the only barrier Which ever rises betwixt thee and me.
Myr. I think the present is the wonted hour Of council; it were better I retire.
Sal. (comes forward and says,) The Ionian slave says well; let her retire.
Sar. Who answers? How now, brother? Sal. The queen's brother, And your most faithful vassal, royal lord. Sar. (addressing his train.) As I have said, let all dispose their hours
Till midnight, when again we pray your presence.
Which I would urge thee. O that I could rouse Beyond them, 'tis but to some mountain palace,
Though 'twere against myself.
By the god Baal! The man would make me tyrant. Sal. So thou art. Think'st thou there is no tyranny but that Of blood and chains? the despotism of vice- The weakness and the wickedness of luxury- The negligence-the apathy-the evils
Of sensual sloth-produce ten thousand tyrants, Whose delegated cruelty surpasses The worst acts of one energetic master, However harsh and hard in his own bearing. The false and fond examples of thy lusts Corrupt no less than they oppress, and sap In the same moment all thy pageant power And those who should sustain it; so that whether A foreign foe invade, or civil broil Distract within, both will alike prove fatal: The first thy subjects have no heart to conquer; The last they rather would assist than vanquish. Sar. Why what makes thee the mouth-piece of the people?
Till summer heats wear down. O glorious Baal! Who built up this vast empire, and wert made A god, or at the least shinest like a god Through the long centuries of thy renown, This, thy presumed descendant, ne'er beheld As king the kingdoms thou didst leave as hero, Won with thy blood, and toil, and time, and peril! For what? to furnish imposts for a revel,
Or multiplied extortions for a minion.
Sar. I understand thee-thou wouldst have me go Forth as a conqueror. By all the stars⚫ Which the Chaldeans read-the restless slaves Deserve that I should curse them with their wishes, And lead them forth to glory.
Sal. Forgiveness of the queen, my sister's wrongs; Left she behind in India to the vultures? A natural love unto my infant nephews; Faith to the king, a faith he may need shortly, In more than words; respect for Nimrod's line; Also, another thing thou knowest not.
Sal. Our annals say not. Sar. Then I will say for themThat she had better woven within her palace Some twenty garments, than with twenty guards Have fled to Bactria, leaving to the ravens, And wolves, and men-the fiercer of the three, Her myriads of fond subjects. Is this glory? Then let me live in ignominy ever.
Sal. All warlike spirits have not the same fate. Semiramis, the glorious parent of
A hundred kings, although she fail'd in India, Brought Persia, Media, Bactria, to the realm Which she once sway'd-and thou might'st sway. Sar. I sway them- She but subdued them. Sal.
Sal. Even from the winds, if thou couldst listen That they will need her sword more than your Unto the echoes of the nation's voice.
Sar. Come, I'm indulgent, as thou knowest,
Sar. There was a certain Bacchus, was there not? I've heard my Greek girls speak of such-they say
As thou hast often proved-speak out, what moves He was a god, that is, a Grecian god,
Sal. What means the king? Sar.
She has all power and splendor of her station, To worship your new god Respect, the tutelage of Assyria's heirs,
And ancient conqueror. Some wine, I say.
The homage and the appanage of sovereignty. I married her as monarchs wed-for state, And loved her as most husbands love their wives.
Sar. (addressing the Cupbearer.) Bring me the If she or thou supposedst I could link me
golden goblet thick with gems,
Which bears the name of Nimrod's chalice. Hence! Fill full, and bear it quickly. [Exit Cupbearer. Sal. Is this moment
A fitting one for the resumption of Thy yet unslept-off revels?
Re-enter Cupbearer, with wine.
Sar. (taking the cup from him.) Noble kinsman, If these barbarian Greeks of the far shores And skirts of these our realms lie not, this Bacchus Conquered the whole of India, did he not?
Sal. He did, and thence was deem'd a deity. Sar. Not so:-of all his conquests a few columns Which may be his, and might be mine, if I
Like a Chaldean peasant to his mate,
He knew nor me, nor monarchs, nor mankind. Sal. I pray thee, change the theme: my blood
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.
Sar. And why not her brother? Sal. I only echo thee the voice of empires, Which he who long neglects not long will govern. Sar. The ungrateful and ungracious slaves! they
Because I have not shed their blood, nor led them
Thought them worth purchase and conveyance, are To dry into the desert's dust by myriads,
The landmarks of the seas of gore he shed,
The realms he wasted, and the hearts he broke. But here, here in this goblet is the title To immortality-the immortal grape From which he first express'd the soul, and gave To gladden that of man, as some atonement For the victorious mischiefs he had done. Had it not been for this, he would have been A mortal still in name as in his grave; And, like my ancestor Semiramis, A sort of semi-glorious human monster. Here's that which deified him-let it now Humanize thee; my surly, chiding brother, Pledge me to the Greek god! Sal. For all thy realms I would not so blaspheme our country's creed. Sar. That is to say, thou thinkest him a hero, That he shed blood by oceans; and no god, Because he turn'd a fruit to an enchantment, Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires The young, makes Weariness forget his toil, And Fear her danger; opens a new world
When this, the present, palls. Well, then I pledge thee
And him as a true man, who did his utmost In good or evil to surprise mankind.
Sal. Wilt thou resume a revel at this hour? Sar. And if I did, 'twere better than a trophy, Being bought without a tear. But that is not My present purpose: since thou wilt not pledge me, Continue what thou pleasest. (To the Cupbearer.)
[Exit Cupbearer. Sal. I would but have recall'd thee from thy dream: Better by me awaken'd than rebellion.
Sar. Who should rebel? or why? what cause? pretext?
I am the lawful king, descended from A race of kings who knew no predecessors. What have I done to thee, or to the people, That thou shouldst rail, or they rise up against me? Sal. Of what thou hast done to me, I speak not. Sar.
But Thou think'st that I have wrong'd the queen: is't not so ?
Sal. Think! Thou hast wrong'd her! Sar
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.
Sal. 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 virtue.
Sar. Or 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, Do more, except destroy them?
'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. Sar. Shame me! By Baal, the cities, though well
Are not more goodly than the verse! Say what Thou wilt 'gainst me, my mode of life and rule, But nothing 'gainst 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. Eat, drink, and love; the rest's not worth a fillip." Sal. A worthy moral, and a wise inscription, For a king to put up before his subjects!
Sar. 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." I leave such things to conquerors; enough For me, if I can make my subjects feel The weight of human misery less, and glide Ungroaning to the tomb; I take no license Which I deny to them. We all are men. Sal. Thy sires have been revered as gods- Sar. In dust And death, where they are neither gods nor men! Talk not of such to me! the worms are gods:
Patience, prince, and hear me. At least they banqueted upon your gods,
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