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. Sard. Lost!-why, who is the aspiring

chief who dared Assume to win them?

Myrrha. Who is he should dread To try so much? When he who is their ruler Forgets himself, will they remember him? Sard. Myrrha !

Myrrha. 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, 1 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?

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.

Sard. My eloquent Ionian! thou speakst music,

The very chorus of the tragic song I have heard thee talk of as the favourite pastime

Of thy far father-land.

calm thee.

Nay, weep not

Myrrha. I weep not.-But I pray thee, do not speak

About my fathers or their land.
Sard. Yet oft

Thou speakest of them.

Myrrha. True-true: constant thought Will overflow in words unconsciously; But when another speaks of Greece, it wounds me.

Sard.

Well, then, how wouldst thou save me, as thon saidst? Myrrha. By teaching thee to save thyself, and not

Thyself alone, but these vast realms, from all The rage of the worst war-the war of brethren.

Sard. Why, child, I loathe all war, and

warriors;

revel,

And love,and mirth, was never king of glory.
Sard. Glory! what's that?
Myrrha. Ask of the gods thy fathers.
Sard. They cannot answer; when the

priests speak for them,

Tis for some small addition to the temple. Myrrha. 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.
Myrrha. 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 arc above us
Itself an opposite star; and we will sit
Crown'd with fresh flowers like-
Myrrha. Victims,

Sard. No, like sovereigns,

The shepherd-kings of patriarchal times, Who knew no brighter gems than summerwreaths,

And none but tearless triumphs. Let us on.
Enter PANIA.

Pania. May the king live for ever!
Sard. Not an hour

Longer than he can love. How my soul

hates

This language, which makes life itself a lie, Flattering dust with eternity. Well, Pania! Be brief.

Pania. I am charged by Salemenes to Reiterate his prayer unto the king, That for this day, at least, he will not quit The palace: when the general returns, He will adduce such reasons as will warrant His daring, and perhaps obtain the pardon Of his presumption.

Sard. What am I then coop'd? Already captive? can I not even breathe The breath of heaven? Tell princeSalemenes, Were all Assyria raging round the walls In mutinous myriads, I would still go forth. Pania. I must obey, and yet— Myrrha. Oh, monarch, listen! How many a day and moon thou hast reclined Within these palace-walls in silken dalliance, And never shown thee to thy people's longing;

Leaving thy subjects' eyes ungratified, The satraps uncontroll'd, the gods unworshipp'd,

And all things in the anarchy of sloth, Till all, save evil, slumber'd through the realm!

A day which may redeem thee? Wilt thou not Yield to the few still faithful a few hours, For them, for thee, for thy past fathers' race, And for thy sons' inheritance?

Pania. 'Tis true!

From the deep urgency with which the prince

Despatch'd me to your sacred presence, I Must dare to add my feeble voice to that Which now has spoken.

Sard. No, it must not be.

Myrrha. For the sake of thy realm!
Sard. Away!

Pania. For that

Of all thy faithful subjects, who will rally Round thee and thine.

Sard. These are mere phantasies;
There is no peril:-'tis a sullen scheme
Of Salemenes, to approve his zeal,
And show himself more necessary to us.
Myrrha. By all that's good and glorious,
take this counsel.

Sard. Business to-morrow.
Myrrha. Ay, or death to-night.
Sard. Why, let it come, then, unex-
pectedly,

'Midst joy and gentleness, and mirth and love; So let me fall like the pluck'd rose! -- far better

Thus than be wither'd.

Myrrha. Then thou wilt not yield, Even for the sake of all that ever stirr'd A monarch into action, to forego A trifling revel?

Sard. No.

Myrrha. Then yield for mineţ
For my sake!

Sard. Thine, my Myrrha ?
Myrrha. Tis the first

Boon which I e'er ask'd Assyria's king. Sard. That's true; and, wer't my kingdom, must be granted.

Well, for thy sake, I yield me. Pania, hence!

Thou hearst me.

Pania. And obey.

[Exit Pania.

me?

Sard. I marvel at thee. What is thy motive, Myrrha, thus to urge Myrrha. Thy safety; and the certainty that nought

Could urge the prince, thy kinsman, to require

Thus much from thee, but some impending danger.

Sard. And if I do not dread it, why shouldst thou?

Myrrha. Because thou dost not fear, I fear for thee.

Sard. To-morrow thou wilt smile at these vain fancies.

Myrrha. If the worst come, I shall be where none weep,

And that is better than the power to smile. And thou?

Sard. I shall be king, as heretofore.

Myrrha. Where?

Sard. With Baal, Nimrod and Semiramis, Sole in Assyria, or with them elsewhere. Fate made me what I am may make me nothing-

But either that or nothing must I be:
I will not live degraded.

Myrrha. Hadst thou felt

Thus always, none would ever dare degrade thee.

Sard. And who will do so now?
Myrrha. Dost thou suspect none?
Sard. 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.
Myrrha. (sola) Why do I love this man?
My country's daughters
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

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's years,
As of wrath to its days? Hear me! oh!

hear me!

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 glorious? Tis a sunset; And mortals may be happy to resemble The gods but in decay.

Enter ARBACES, by an inner door. Arbaces. Beleses, why So rapt in thy devotions? Dost thou stand Gazing to trace thy disappearing god Into some realm of undiscover'd day? Our business is with night—'tis come. Beleses. But not

Gone.

Arbaces. Let it roll on- we are ready

Your king of concubines? why stir me up?
Why spur me to this enterprise? your own
No less than mine?

Beleses. Look to the sky?
Arbaces. I look.

Beleses. What seest thou?

them.

Beleses. That Salemenes is. Arbaces. But not their king.

Besides, he hates the effeminate thing that governs,

For the queen's sake, his sister. Mark you not He keeps aloof from all the revels?

Beleses. But

Not from the council-there he is ever

constant.

The gathering of the stars.

Beleses. And midst them, mark

Yon earliest, and the brightest, which so quivers,

As it would quit its place in the blue ether. Arbaces. Well?

Beleses. 'Tis thy natal ruler-thy birthplanet.

Arbaces (touching his scabbard). My star is in this scabbard: when it shines, It shall out-dazzle comets. Let us think Of what is to be done to justify Thy planets and their portents. When we

conquer,

They shall have temples-ay, and priests—

and thou

Shalt be the pontiff of-what gods thou wilt;
For I observe that they are ever just,
And own the bravest for the most devout.
Beleses. Ay, and the most devout for
brave - thou hast not

Seen me turn back from battle.

Arbaces. No; I own thee

As firm in fight as Babylonia's captain,
As skilful in Chaldea's worship; now,
Will it but please thee to forget the priest,
And be the warrior?

Beleses. Why not both?
Arbaces. The better;

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