The poetical works of lord Byron. Illustr. ed

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.

Arb. They'll not resist.

Bel.

Why not? they are soldiers.

Arb.

True,

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,

Bel.

Beset with drowsy guards and drunken courtiers;
But in the hall of Nimrod-
Is it so?
Methought the haughty soldier fear'd to mount
A throne too easily-does it disappoint thee
To find there is a slippery step or two
Than what was counted on?

Arb.
When the hour comes,
Thou shalt perceive how far I fear or no.
Thou hast seen my life at stake-and gaily play'd
for:

But here is more upon the die-a kingdom.
Bel. I have foretold already-thou wilt win it:
Then on, and prosper.

Arb.

Now were I a soothsayer, I would have boded so much to myself. But be the stars obey'd-I cannot quarrel With them, nor their interpreter. Who's here?

Yes-if the time served.

Sal.

Arb.

Well met-I sought ye both, But elsewhere than the palace. Wherefore so?

Enter BALEA.

Sal. "Tis not the hour.

sence at

The feast to-night.

Bel.

To hear is to obey.

No; here in the palace.

What, are you not invited ?
Bel. Oh! yes-we had forgotten.
Sal.

Arb. How! in the palace? it was not thus Thus to forget a sovereign's invitation ?
order'd.

Bal. It is so order'd now.

Arb. Why-we but now received it. Sal.

Is it usual

Then why here ?

Bel. Midnight, my lord! Sal.

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 deigus 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,

On the state's. We have the privilege to approach the presence, But found the monarch absent. Sar.

Am upon duty. Arb.

And I too

May we crave its purport. Sal. To arrest two traitors. Guards! Within there!

Sar. Your swords.

Sal.

Then sheath

[ARBACES and SALEMENES return their swords to their scabbards.

Mine's sheath'd: 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.

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 nations-No I'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]. Monarch, take back your signet. Sar. No, retain it; But use it with more moderation.

Sal.

Sire,

Sal.
Doubt not, he will have it,
Without that hollow semblance of respect.

Bel. I know not what hath prejudiced the prince So strongly 'gainst two subjects, than whom none Have been more zealous for Assyria's weal.

Sal. Peace, factious priest, and faithless soldier ! thou

Unitest in thy own person the worst vices
Of the most dangerous orders of mankind.
Keep thy smooth words and juggling homilies
For those who know thee not. Thy fellow's sin
Is, at the least, a bold one, and not temper'd
By the tricks taught thee in Chaldea.

Bel.
Hear him,
My liege-the son of Belus! he blasphemes
The worship of the land, which bows the knee
Before your fathers.

Sar.

Oh! for that I pray you

Let him have absolution. I dispense with
The worship of dead men; feeling that I
Am mortal, and believing that the race
From whence I sprung are-what I see them-
ashes.

Bel. King! do not deem so they are with the
stars,

And

Sar. You shall join them ere they will rise,
If you preach further.-Why, this is rank treason.
Sal. My lord!
Sar.
To school me in the worship of
Assyria's idols! Let him be released-
Give him his sword.

Sal.

I pray you pause.
Sar.

My lord, and king, and brother,

Yes, and be sermonised,
And dinn'd and deafen'd with dead men and Baal,
And all Chaldea's starry mysteries.

Bel. Monarch! respect them.
Sar.
Oh! for that-I love them;
I love to watch them in the deep blue vault,
And to compare them with my Myrrha's eyes;
I love to see their rays redoubled in
The tremulous silver of Euphrates' wave,
As the light breeze of midnight crisps the broad
And rolling water, sighing through the sedges
Which fringe his banks: but whether they may be
Gods, as some say, or the abodes of gods,
As others hold, or simply lamps of night,

We thank

Sar. Priest! keep your thanksgivings for Belus;
His offspring needs none.
Bel.
But being innocent-
Sar. Be silent.-Guilt is loud. If ye are loyal,
Ye are injured men, and should be sad, not grate-
ful.

Bel. So we should be, were justice always done
By earthly power omnipotent; but innocence
Must oft receive her right as a mere favour.
Sar. That's a good sentence for a homily,
Though not for this occasion. Prithee keep it
To plead thy sovereign's cause before his people.
Bel. I trust there is no cause.
Sar.
No cause, perhaps.
But many causers :-if ye meet with such
In the exercise of your inquisitive function
On earth, or should you read of it in heaven
In some mysterious twinkle of the stars,
Which are your chronicles, I pray you note,
That there are worse things betwixt earth and heaven
Than him who ruleth many and slays none;
And, hating not himself, yet loves his fellows
Enough to spare even those who would not spare
him

Were they once masters—but that's doubtful.
Satraps!

Worlds, or the lights of worlds, I know nor care not. Your swords and persons are at liberty

There's something sweet in my uncertainty

I would not change for your Chaldean lore;

Besides, I know of these all clay can know

Of aught above it, or below it-nothing.
I see their brilliancy and feel their beauty-
When they shine on my grave I shall know neither.
Bel. For neither, sire, say better.
Sar.

To use them as ye will-but from this hour
I have no call for either. Salemenes!
Follow me.

Arb.

I will wait,

Bel.

If it so please you, pontiff, for that knowledge.
In the meantime receive your sword, and know
That I prefer your service militant

Unto your ministry-not loving either.

[Exeunt SARDANAPALUS, SALEMENES, and the Train, &c., leaving ARBACES and BELESES.

Beleses!

Arb. That we are lost.

Now, what think you?

Bel.
That we have won the kingdom.
Arb. What? thus suspected-with the sword

slung o'er us

Sal. [asile]. His lusts have made him mad. Then But by a single hair, and that still wavering, must I save him,

Spite of himself.

Sar.
Please you to hear me, Satraps!
And chiefly thou, my priest, because I doubt thee
More than the soldier; and would doubt thee all
Wert thou not half a warrior: let us part
In peace-I'll not say pardon-which must be
Earn'd by the guilty; this I'll not pronounce ye,
Although upon this breath of mine depends
Your own; and, deadlier for ye, on my fears.
But fear not, for that I am soft, not fearful-
And so live on. Were I the thing some think me,
Your heads would now be dripping the last drops
Of their attainted gore from the high gates
Of this our palace, into the dry dust,
Their only portion of the coveted kingdom

He spared our lives, nay, more,
Saved them from Salemenes.
And how long
Will he so spare? till the first drunken minute.
Arb. Or sober, rather. Yet he did it nobly;

They would be crown'd to reign o'er-let that pass. Gave royally what we had forfeited

As I have said, I will not deem ye guilty,
Nor doom ye guiltless. Albeit better men
Than ye or I stand ready to arraign you;
And should I leave your fate to sterner judges,
And proofs of all kinds, I might sacrifice
Two men, who, whatsoe'er they are now, were
Once honest. Ye are free, sirs.

Bel. I blush that we should owe our lives to such
A king of distaffs.
Arb.
But no less we owe them;
And I should blush far more to take the grantor's!
Bel. Thou may'st endure whate'er thou wilt-the

stars

Have written otherwise.

Arb.

Though they came down, And marshall'd me the way in all their brightness, I would not follow.

Bel.

This is weakness-worse

Than a scared beldam's dreaming of the dead,

And waking in the dark.-Go to-go to.

Arb. But this is fill'd.
Bel.

With worse than vacancy

A despised monarch. Look to it, Arbaces :
I have still aided, cherish'd, loved, and urged you;
Was willing even to serve you, in the hope
To serve and save Assyria. Heaven itself
Seem'd to consent, and all events were friendly
Even to the last, till that your spirit shrunk
Into a shallow softness; but now, rather
Than see my country languish, I will be
Her saviour or the victim of her tyrant,

Arb. Methought he look'd like Nimrod as he Or one or both, for sometimes both are one;

spoke,

And if I win, Arbaces is my servant.
Arb. Your servant!
Bel.

Why not? better than be slave,
The pardon'd slave of she Sardanapalus!

Arb. If I thought so, this good sword should dig
One more than mine.
It shall have work enough.
Let me hope better than thou augurest;
Yes-At present, let us hence as best we may.
Thou dost agree with me in understanding
This order as a sentence?

Bel. And would, perhaps, betray as well

As quit me?

Arb.

That's a sacerdotal thought,

And not a soldier's.

Bel.

Be it what you will—

The free air of the city, and we'll shorten

"Twill be shorten'd at the gates,

The journey.
Arb.
It may be.
Bel. No; they hardly will risk that.
They mean us to die privately, but not
Within the palace or the city walls,
Where we are known, and may have partisans :
If they had meant to slay us here, we were
No longer with the living. Let us hence.

Arb. If I but thought he did not mean my life

Bel. Fool! hence-what else should despotism alarm'd

Mean? Let us but rejoin our troops, and march.
Arb. Towards our provinces ?
Bel.
No; towards your kingdom.
There's time, there's heart, and hope, and power,
and means,

Which their half measures leave us in full scope.-
Away!

Arb. And I even yet repenting must Relapse to guilt!

Bel.

Self-defence is a virtue, Sole bulwark of all right. Away, I say!

Let's leave this place, the air grows thick and

choking,

And should therefore be decisive. This half indulgence of an exile serves But to provoke-a pardon should be full, Or it is none.

Sar.

And who persuaded me
After I had repeal'd them, or at least,
Only dismiss'd them from our presence, who
Urged me to send them to their satrapies?

Sal. True; that I had forgotten; that is, sire, If they e'er reach'd their satrapies-why, then, Reprove me more for my advice.

Sar. And if They do not reach them-look to it!—in safety, In safety, mark me—and securityLook to thine own. Sul. Permit me to depart; Their safety shall be cared for. Sar. Get thee hence, then, And, prithee, think more gently of thy brother. Sal. Sire, I shall ever duly serve my sovereign. [Erit SALEMENES. Sar. [solus]. That man is of a temper too severe; Hard but as lofty as the rock, and free From all the taints of common earth-while I Am softer clay, impregnated with flowers: But as our mould is, must the produce be. If I have err'd this time, 'tis on the side Where error sits most lightly on that sense, I know not what to call it; but it reckons With me ofttimes for pain, and sometimes pleasure; A spirit which seems placed about my heart To count its throbs, not quicken them, and ask Questions which no one mortal dared to ask me, Nor Baal, though an oracular deity— Albeit his marble face majestical

Frowns as the shadows of the evening dim

His brows to changed expression, till at times
I think the statue looks in act to speak.

Away with these vain thoughts, I will be joyous-
And here comes Joy's true herald.

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