And bid the galley be prepared.

There is

A cooling breeze which crisps the broad clear river:
Fair nymphs, who deign

We will embark anon.

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?

Myrrha.

My lord

Sardan. My lord, my life! why answerest thou so coldly?

It is the curse of kings to be so answered.

Rule thy own hours, thou rulest mine-say, wouldst thou
Accompany our guests, or charm away
The moments from me?

Myrrha.

The king's choice is mine.

Sardan. I pray thee say not so: my chiefest joy
Is to contribute to thine every wish.

I do not dare to breathe my own desire,
Lest it should clash with thine; for thou art still
Too prompt to sacrifice thy thoughts for others.
Myrrha. I would remain: I have no happiness
Save in beholding thine; yet

Sardan.

Yet! what YET?

'Thy own sweet will shall be the only barrier Which ever rises betwixt thee and me.

Myrrha. I think the present is the wonted hour

Of council; it were better I retire.

Salem. (comes forward and says). The Ionian slave says well, let her retire.

Sardan, Who answers? How now, brother?

Salem.

The queen's brother,

And your most faithful vassal, royal lord.

Sardan. (addressing his train). As I have said, let all dispose their hours

Till midnight, when again we pray your presence.

[The court retiring.

(To MYRRHA, who is going). Myrrha! I thought thou

wouldst remain.

Myrrha.

Thou didst not say so.

Sardan.

Great king,

But thou lookedst it;

Sire! your brother

I know each glance of those Ionic eyes,
Which said thou wouldst not leave me.

Myrrha.

Salem. His consort's brother, minion of Ionia! How darest thou name me and not blush?

Sardan.

Not blush?

Thou hast no more eyes than heart to make her crimson
Like to the dying day on Caucasus,

Where sunset tints the snow with rosy shadows,
And then reproach her with thine own cold blindness,
Which will not see it. What, in tears, my Myrrha?

Salem. Let them flow on; she weeps for more than one, And is herself the cause of bitterer tears.

Sardun. Cursed be he who caused those tears to flow! Salem. Curse not thyself-millions do that already. Sardan. Thou dost forget thee: make me not remember I am a monarch.

Salem.

Myrrha.

Would thou couldst !

My sovereign,

I pray, and thou too, prince permit my absence.

Sardan. Since it must be so, and this churl has check'd

Thy gentle spirit, go; but recollect

That we must forthwith meet: I had rather lose

An empire than thy presence.

Sulem.

[Exit MYRRHA.

It may be,

Brother,

Thou wilt lose both, and both for ever!

Sardan

I can at least command myself, who listen
To language such as this; yet urge me not.
Beyond my easy nature.

Salem.

'Tis beyond

That easy, far too easy, idle nature,

Which I would urge thee. Oh that I could rouse thee!

Though 'twere against myself.

Sardan.

The man would make me tyrant.

Salem.

By the god Baal!

So thou art.

Thinkst 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.

Sardan. Why what makes thee the mouth-piece of the people?

Salem. Forgiveness of the queen, my sister's wrongs; 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.

Sardan. What's that?

Never was word rang so in my ears→→

Worse than the rabble's shout, or splitting trumpet;

I've heard thy sister talk of nothing else.

Salem. To change the irksome theme, then, hear of vice. Sardan. From whom?

Salem. Even from the winds, if thou couldst listen

Unto the echoes of the nation's voice.

Sardan. Come, I'm indulgent as thou knowest, patient As thou hast often proved-speak out, what moves thee? Salem. Thy peril.

Sardan.

Say on,

Salem.

Thus, then all the nations,

For they are many, whom thy father left.

In heritage, are loud in wrath against thee.
Sardan. 'Gainst me! What would the slaves?

Salem.
Sardan.

A king.

And what

Am I then?

Salem.

In their eyes a nothing; but

In mine a man who might be something still.

Sardan. The railing drunkards! why, what would they

More than is glorious; of the last, far less

Than the kings recks of.

Sardan.

Of the first,

Whose then is the crime,

But the false satraps, who provide no better?

Salem. And somewhat in the monarch who ne'er looks

Beyond his palace walls, or if he stirs

Beyond them, 'tis but to some mountain palace,

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.

Sardan. 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.

Salem. Why, like a man—a hero; baffled, but

Not vanquish'd. With but twenty guards, she made
Good her retreat to Bactria.

Sardan.

And how many

Left she behind in India to the vultures?

Salem. Our annals say not.

Sardan.

Then I will say for them

That 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.

Salem. 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 mightst sway.

Sardan.

She but subdued them.

Salem.

I sway them

It may be ere long

That they will need her sword more than your sceptre.
Sardan. There was a certain Bacchus, was there not?
I've heard my Greek girls speak of such-they say
He was a god, that is a Grecian god,

An idol foreign to Assyria's worship,

Who conquer'd this same golden realm of Ind.

Thou prat'st of, where Semiramis was vanquish’d.

Salem.. I have heard of such a man; and thou perceiv'st

That he is deem'd a god for what he did.

Sardan. And in his godship I will honour himNot much as man. What ho! my cupbearer! Salem. What means the king?

Sardan.

To worship your new god.

And ancient conqueror. Some wine, I say.

Enter Cupbearer.

SARDANAPALUS (addressing the Cupbearer),

Bring me the golden goblet thick with geins,

Which bears the name of Nimrod's chalice. Ilence..

Fill full, and bear it quickly.

[Exit Cupbearer.