As it stream'd o'er her; her blue veins that rose
Along her most transparent brow; her nostril
Dilated from its symmetry; her lips

Apart; her voice that clove through all the din,
As a lute pierceth through the cymbals' clash,
Jarr'd but not drown'd by the loud brattling; her
Waved arms more dazzling with their own born
whiteness

Than the steel her hand held, which she caught up
From a dead soldier's grasp; all these things made
Her seem unto the troops a prophetess
Of victory, or Victory herself,
Come down to hail us hers.
Sal. [aside].
This is too much.
Again the love-fit's on him, and all's lost,
Unless we turn his thoughts.

[Aloud.] But pray thee, sire, Think of your wound-you said even now 'twas painful.

Sar. That's true, too; but I must not think of it. Sal. I have look'd to all things needful, and will

He should, or should not be; to have him live,
Let him not sink back into luxury
You have more power upon his spirit than
Wisdom within these walls, or fierce rebellion
Raging without: look well that he relapse not.

Myr. There needed not the voice of Salemenes
To urge me on to this: I will not fail.
All that a woman's weakness can-
Sal.

Omnipotent o'er such a heart as his :
Exert it wisely.

Is power

[Exit SALEMENES. Myrrha! what, at whispers

Sar.
With my stern brother? I shall soon be jealous.
Myr. [smiling]. You have cause, sire, for on the
earth there breathes not

A man more worthy of a woman's love,
A soldier's trust, a subject's reverence,
A king's esteem-the whole world's admiration!
Sar. Praise him, but not so warmly. I must not
Hear those sweet lips grow eloquent in aught
That throws me into shade; yet you speak truth.

SARDANAPALUS discovered sleeping upon a Couch, and occasionally disturbed in his slumbers, with MYRRHA watching.

Myr. [sola, gazing]. I have stolen upon his rest,

if rest it be,

Which thus convulses slumber: shall I wake him?
No, he seems calmer. Oh, thou God of Quiet!
Whose reign is o'er seal'd eyelids and soft dreams,
Or deep, deep sleep, so as to be unfathom'd,
Look like thy brother, Death, so still, so stir-
less-

For then we are happiest, as it may be, we
Are happiest of all within the realm
Of thy stern, silent, and unawakening twin.
Again he moves-again the play of pain
Shoots o'er his features, as the sudden gust
Crisps the reluctant lake that lay so calm
Beneath the mountain shadow; or the blast
Ruffles the autumn leaves, that drooping cling
Faintly and motionless to their loved boughs.
I must awake him-yet not yet; who knows
From what I rouse him? It seems pain; but if
I quicken him to heavier pain? The fever
Of this tumultuous night, the grief too of
His wound, though slight, may cause all this, and

shake

Me more to see than him to suffer. No:
Let Nature use her own maternal means,-
And I await to second, not disturb her.
Sar. [awakening]. Not so-although ye multi-
plied the stars,

And

gave them to me as a realm to share From you, and with you! I would not so pur

chase

Sleep shows such things, what may not death disclose ?

Myr. I know no evil death can show, which life Has not already shown to those who live Embodied longest. If there be indeed

A shore where mind survives, 'twill be as mind.
All unincorporate: or if there flits

A shadow of this cumbrous clog of clay,
Which stalks, methinks, between our souls and
heaven,

And fetters us to earth-at least the phantom,
Whate'er it have to fear, will not fear death.

Sar. I fear it not; but I have felt-have seenA legion of the dead.

I tell you: after that these eyes were open,
I saw them in their flight-for then they fled.
Myr. Say on.
Sar.
I saw, that is, I dream'd myself
Here-here-even where we are, guests as we were,
Myself a host that deem'd himself but guest,
Willing to equal all in social freedom;
But, on my right hand and my left, instead
Of thee and Zames, and our custom'd meeting,
Was ranged on my left hand a haughty, dark,
And deadly face; I could not recognise it,
Yet I had seen it, though I knew not where:
The features were a giant's, and the eye
Was still, yet lighted; his long locks curl'd down
On his vast bust, whence a huge quiver rose
With shaft-heads feather'd from the eagle's wing,
That peep'd up bristling through his serpent hair.
I invited him to fill the cup which stood
Between us, but he answer'd not-I fill'd it;
He took it not, but stared upon me, till
I trembled at the fix'd glare of his eye:
I frown'd upon him as a king should frown ;-
He frown'd not in his turn, but look'd upon me
With the same aspect, which appall'd me more,

A goblet, bubbling o'er with blood; and on Her left, another, fill'd with-what I saw not, But turn'd from it and her. But all along The table sate a range of crowned wretches, Of various aspects, but of one expression. Myr. And felt you not this a mere vision? Sar.

No;

It was so palpable, I could have touch'd them.
I turn'd from one face to another, in
The hope to find at last one which I knew
Ere I saw theirs: but no-all turn'd
upon me,
And stared, but neither ate nor drank, but stared
Till I grew stone, as they seem'd half to be,
Yet breathing stone, for I felt life in them,
And life in me: there was a horrid kind
Of sympathy between us, as if they
Had lost a part of death to come to me,
And I the half of life to sit by them.
We were in an existence all apart
From heaven or earth-And rather let me see
Death all than such a being!

Myr.
And the end?
Sar. At last I sate, marble, as they, when rose
The hunter and the crone, and smiling on me-
Yes, the enlarged but noble aspect of
The hunter smiled upon me-I should say,

His lips, for his eyes moved not-and the woman's
Thin lips relax'd to something like a smile.
Both rose, and the crown'd figures on each hand
Rose also, as if aping their chief shades-
Mere mimics even in death-but I sate still:
A desperate courage crept through every limb,
And at the last I feared them not, but laugh'd
Full in their phantom faces. But then-then
The hunter laid his hand on mine: I took it,
And grasp'd it but it melted from my own;
While he too vanish'd, and left nothing but
The memory of a hero, for he look'd so.
Myr. And was: the ancestor of heroes, too,
And thine no less.

Sar.
Ah, Myrrha, but the woman,
The female who remain'd, she flew upon me,
And burnt my lips up with her noisome kisses;
And, flinging down the goblets on each hand,
Methought their poisons flow'd around us, till
Each form'd a hideous river. Still she clung;
The other phantoms, like a row of statues,
Stood dull as in our temples, but she still
Embraced me, while I shrunk from her, as if,
In lieu of her remote descendant, I

Had been the son who slew her for her incest.
Then-then-a chaos of all loathsome things
Throng'd thick and shapeless: I was dead, yet
feeling-

Buried, and raised again-consumed by worms,
Purged by the flames, and wither'd in the air!
I can fix nothing further of my thoughts,
Save that I long'd for thee, and sought for thee
In all these agonies, and woke, and found thee.
Myr. So shalt thou find me ever at thy side,
Here and hereafter, if the last may be.
But think not of these things-the mere creations
Of late events, acting upon a frame
Unused to toil, yet over wrought by toil
Such as might try the sternest.

Sar.

I am better.

Sal. Even so. I judged it fitting for their safety That ere the dawn she sets forth with her children For Paphlagonia, where our kinsman, Cotta, Governs; and there at all events secure

'Tis too late To think of these past dreams. Let's not reproach

That is, reproach me not-for the last time-
Zar. And first. I ne'er reproach'd you.
Sar.
'Tis most true;
And that reproof comes heavier on my heart

them

Their just pretensions to the crown in case

Zar. Nor hands; but I gave both. Sar.

Your brother said

Deem not

Those infants, not alone from the blind love
Of a fond mother, but as a fond woman.
They are now the only tie between us.
Sar.
I have not done you justice: rather make them
Resemble your own line than their own sire.
I trust them with you-to you: fit them for
A throne, or, if that be denied- -You have heard
Of this night's tumults?

Zar.
I had half forgotten,
And could have welcom'd any grief save yours,
Which gave me to behold your face again.

Sar. The throne-I say it not in fear-but 'tis
In peril: they perhaps may never mount it;
But let them not for this lose sight of it,
I will dare all things to bequeath it them:
But if I fail, then they must win it back
Bravely-and, won, wear it wisely, not as I
Have wasted down my royalty.

Zar.

They ne'er

The truth from you than from a trampling world.
If they be in adversity, they'll learn

Too soon the scorn of crowds for crownless princes,
And find that all their father's sins are theirs.
My boys!-I could have borne it were I childless.
Zar. Oh! do not say so-do not poison all
My peace left, by unwishing that thou wert
A father. If thou conquerest, they shall reign,
And honour him who saved the realm for them,
So little cared for as his own; and if

till

They reign themselves all monarchs in their

mansions

-

The honey, nor inquire whence 'tis derived.
Be satisfied-you are not all abandon'd.
Sar. My life ensures me that. How long, be-
think you,

Were not I yet a king, should I be mortal;
That is, where mortals are, not where they must
be?

Zar. I know not. But yet live for my—that is, Your children's sake!

Sar.

My gentle, wrong'd Zarina ! I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse-borne away with every breath! Misplaced upon the throne-misplaced in life. I know not what I could have been, but feel I am not what I should be-let it end. But take this with thee: if I was not form'd To prize a love like thine, a mind like thine, Nor dote even on thy beauty-as I've doted On lesser charms, for no cause save that such Devotion was a duty, and I hated

All that looked like a chain for me or others

father!

And they will swell the echo with a curse.

honour

But at the least, whate'er the past, their end
Shall be like their beginning-memorable.
Zur. Yet be not rash-be careful of your life,
Live but for those who love.

Sar.
And who are they?
A slave, who loves from passion-I'll not say
Ambition-she has seen thrones shake, and loves;
A few friends who have revell'd till we are
As one, for they are nothing if I fall;

A brother I have injured-children whom
I have neglected, and a spouse-

Zar.

Sur. And pardons?

Who loves.

Upon a vein of virgin ore, discovering
That which avails him nothing: he hath found it,
But 'tis not his-but some superior's, who
Placed him to dig, but not divide the wealth
Which sparkles at his feet; nor dare he lift
Nor poise it, but must grovel on, upturning
The sullen earth.

Zar.
Oh! if thou hast at length
Discover'd that my love is worth esteem,
I ask no more- —but let us hence together,
And I-let me say we-shall yet be happy.
Assyria is not all the earth-we'll find
A world out of our own-and be more bless'd
Than I have ever been, or thou, with all
An empire to indulge thee.

Sal.

With my husband

Alas!

Hear me, sister, like
My sister-all's prepared to make your safety
Certain, and of the boys too, our last hopes;
"Tis not a single question of mere feeling,
Though that were much-but 'tis a point of state:
The rebels would do more to seize upon

The offspring of their sovereign, and so crush-
Zar. Ah! do not name it.

Sal.
Well, then, mark me: when
They are safe beyond the Median's grasp, the
rebels

Have miss'd their chief aim-the extinction of
The line of Nimrod. Though the present king
Fall, his sons live for victory and vengeance.
Zar. But could I not remain, alone?
Sal.
What! leave
Your children, with two parents and yet orphans-
In a strange land-so young, so distant?
No-
Now you know all-decide.
Sar. Zarina, he hath spoken well, and we
Must yield awhile to this necessity.

Zar.

My heart will break.

Sal.

Remaining here, you may lose all; departing,
You save the better part of what is left,

To both of us, and to such loyal hearts
As yet beat in these kingdoms.
Sal.

The time presses.
Sar. Go, then. If e'er we meet again, perhaps
I may be worthier of you—and, if not,
Remember that my faults, though not atoned for,
Are ended. Yet, I dread thy nature will
Grieve more about the blighted name and ashes
Which once were mightiest in Assyria-than-
But I grow womanish again, and must not;
I must learn sternness now. My sins have all
Been of the softer order-hide thy tears-
I do not bid thee not to shed them-'twere
Easier to stop Euphrates at its source
Than one tear of a true and tender heart-
But let me not behold them; they unman me
Here when I had remann'd myself. My brother,
Lead her away.

Oh, God! I never shall

Zar. Behold him more!

Sal. [striving to conduct her]. Nay, sister, I must be obey'd.

Zar. I must remain-away! you shall not hold

me.

What, shall he die alone?-I live alone?

Sal. He shall not die alone; but lonely you Have lived for years.

Sal.

Nay-then all is lost again,

If that this moment is not gain'd.
Zar.

My eyes fail-where is he?

Sar. [advancing].

My brain turns— [She faints. No-set her down;

She's dead-and you have slain her. Sal.

:

'Tis the mere

Faintness of o'erwrought passion in the air
She will recover. Pray, keep back.—[Aside.] I

must

Avail myself of this sole moment to

Bear her to where her children are embark'd, I' the royal galley on the river.

Sar. [solus].

[SALEMENES bears her off.
This, too-
And this too must I suffer-I, who never
Inflicted purposely on human hearts
A voluntary pang! But that is false-
She loved me, and I loved her.-Fatal passion!
Why dost thou not expire at once in hearts
Which thou hast lighted up at once? Zarina!
I must pay dearly for the desolation
Now brought upon thee. Had I never loved
But thee I should have been an unopposed
Monarch of honouring nations. To what gulfs
A single deviation from the track

Of human duties leads even those who claim
The homage of mankind as their born due,
And find it, till they forfeit it themselves!