ACT V.

SCENE I.

The same Hall of the Palace. MYRRHA and BALEA. MYRRHA (at a window).

The day at last has broken. What a night Hath usher'd it! How beautiful in heaven! Though varied with a transitory storm, More beautiful in that variety!

hope,

How hideous upon earth! where peace and
And love and revel, in an hour were trampled
By human passions to a human chaos,
Not yet resolved to separate elements.-
'Tis warring still! And can the sun so rise,
So bright, so rolling back the clouds into
Vapours more lovely than the unclouded sky,
With golden pinnacles, and snowy mountains,
And billows purpler than the ocean's, making
In heaven a glorious mockery of the earth,
So like, we almost deem it permanent;
So fleeting, we can scarcely call it aught
Beyond a vision, 't is so transiently
Scatter'd along the eternal vault: and yet
It dwells upon the soul, and soothes the soul,
And blends itself into the soul, until
Sunrise and sunset form the haunted epoch
Of sorrow and of love; which they who mark not
Know not the realms where those twin genii
(Who chasten and who purify our hearts,

So that we would not change their sweet rebukes
For all the boisterous joys that ever shook
The air with clamour) build the palaces
Where their fond votaries repose and breathe
Briefly;-but in that brief cool calm inhale
Enough of heaven to enable them to bear
The rest of common, heavy, human hours,
And dream them through in placid sufferance;
Though seemingly employ'd like all the rest
Of toiling breathers in allotted tasks

Of pain or pleasure, two names for one feeling.
Which our internal, restless agony
Would vary in the sound, although the sense
Escapes our highest efforts to be happy.

BALEA.

You muse right calmly: and can you so watch The sunrise which may be our last?

MYRRHA.

It is

Therefore that I so watch it, and reproach
Those eyes, which never may behold it more,
For having look'd upon it oft, too oft,
Without the reverence and the rapture due

To that which keeps all earth from being as fragile
As I am in this form. Come, look upon it,
The Chaldee's god, which, when I gaze upon,
I grow almost a convert to your Baal.

BALEA.

As now he reigns in heaven, so once on earth Ho sway'd.

MYRRHA.

He sways it now far more, then; never Had earthly monarch half the peace and glory Which centres in a single ray of his.

These realms, of which thou wert the ornament,
The sword and shield, the sole redeeming honour,
To call back-But I will not weep for thee;
Thou shalt be mourn'd for as thou wouldst be mourn'd.
It grieves me most that thou couldst quit this life
Believing that I could survive what thou
Hast died for our long royalty of race.
If I redeem it, I will give thee blood

Of thousands, tears of millions, for atonement
(The tears of all the good are thine already).
If not, we meet again soon, if the spirit
Within us lives beyond:-thou readest mine,
And dost me justice now. Let me once clasp
That yet warm hand, and fold that throbless heart
[Embraces the body.
To this which beats so bitterly. Now, bear
The body hence.

SOLDIER.

Where?

SARDANAPALUS.

That's strange. I pray thee break that loyal silence Which loathes to shock its sovereign; we can hear Worse than thou hast to tell.

PANIA.

Proceed, thou hearest.

OFFICER.

The wall which skirted near the river's brink
Is thrown down by the sudden inundation
Of the Euphrates, which now rolling, swoln
From the enormous mountains where it rises,
By the late rains of that tempestuous region,
O'erfloods its banks, and hath destroy'd the bulwark.

PANIA.

That's a black augury! It has been said For ages, "That the city ne'er should yield To man, until the river grew its foe."

SARDANAPALUS.

I can forgive the omen, not the ravage. How much is swept down of the wail?

OFFICER.

Place it beneath my canopy, as though

To my proper chamber.

Some twenty stadii.

SARDANAPALUS. And all this is left

SARDANAPALUS.

OFFICER.

About

[Gives a key.

It opens to a secret chamber, placed
Behind the couch in my own chamber. (Now
Press'd by a nobler weight than e'er it bore-
Though a long line of sovereigns have lain down
Along its golden frame-as bearing for
A time what late was Salemenes). Search
The secret covert to which this will lead you;
Tis full of treasure; take it for yourself
And your companions: there's enough to load ye,
Though ye be many. Let the slaves be freed, too;
And all the inmates of the palace, of
Whatever sex, now quit it in an hour.

Thence launch the regal barks, once form'd for pleasure,
And now to serve for safety, and embark.
The river's broad and swoln, and uncommanded
(More potent than a king) by these besiegers.
Fly! and be happy!

PANIA.

With a heavy but true heart,

SARDANAPALUS.

'Tis enough. Now order here Fagots, pine-nuts, and wither'd leaves, and such Things as catch fire and blaze with one sole spark; Bring cedar, too, and precious drugs, and spices, And mighty planks, to nourish a tall pile; Bring frankincense and myrrh, too, for it is For a great sacrifice I build the pyre; And heap them round yon throne.

PANIA.

My lord!

SARDANAPALUS.

And you have sworn.

Without a vow.

PANIA.

And could keep my

MYRRHA.

What mean you?

I have said it,

faith

[Exit PANIA

SARDANAPALUS.

You shall know

Anon-what the whole earth shall ne'er forget.

PANIA, returning with a Herald.

HERALD (showing a ring).

Be sure that he is now In the camp of the conquerors; behold His signet ring.

SARDANAPALUS.

'Tis his. A worthy triad! Poor Salemenes! thou hast died in time To see one treachery the less: this man Was thy true friend and my most trusted subject. Proceed.

HERALD.

They offer thee thy life, and freedom

Of choice to single out a residence

Thou at the least shalt learn the penalty
Of treason, though its proxy only.
Let his head be thrown from our walls within
The rebels' lines, his carcass down the river.
Away with him!

PANIA.

I never yet obey'd

Your orders with more pleasure than the present.
Hence with him, soldiers! do not soil this hall
Of royalty with treasonable gore;

Put him to rest without.

HERALD.

A single word:

My office, king, is sacred.

SARDANAPALUS.

And what's mine?

That thou shouldst come and dare to ask of me

To lay it down?

HERALD.

I but obey'd my orders, At the same peril, if refused, as now Incurr'd by my obedience.

SARDANAPALUS.

So, there are

New monarchs of an hour's growth as despotic As sovereigns swathed in purple, and enthroned From birth to manhood!

HERALD.

My life waits your breath. Yours (I speak humbly)—but it may be-yours May also be in danger scarce less imminent: Would it then suit the last hours of a line

Such as is that of Nimrod, to destroy

A peaceful herald, unarm'd, in his office;
And violate not only all that man

Holds sacred between man and man-but that
More holy tie which links us with the gods?

SARDANAPALUS.

He's right.-Let him go free.-My life's last act
Shall not be one of wrath. Here, fellow, take
[Gives him a golden cup from a table near.
This golden goblet; let it hold your wine,
And think of me; or melt it into ingots,
And think of nothing but their weight and value.

HERALD.

I thank you doubly for my life, and this

Most gorgeous gift, which renders it more precious. But must I bear no answer?

Higher, my good soldiers, And thicker yet; and see that the foundation Be such as will not speedily exhaust Its own too subtle flame; nor yet be quench'd With aught officious aid would bring to quell it. Let the throne form the core of it; I would not Leave that, save fraught with fire unquenchable, To the new comers. Frame the whole as if 'T were to enkindle the strong tower of our Inveterate enemies. Now it bears an aspect! How say you, Pania, will this pile suffice For a king's obsequies?