SCENE I.-A Hall in the Palace. Salemenes (solus). He hath wrong'd his queen, but still he is her lord;

He hath wrong'd my sister, still he is my brother; He hath wrong'd his people, still he is their sovereign,

And I must be his friend as well as subject:
He must not perish thus. I will not see
The blood of Nimrod and Semiramis

Sink in the earth, and thirteen hundred years
Of empire ending like a shepherd's tale;
He must be roused. In his effeminate heart
There is a careless courage which corruption
Has not all quench'd, and latent energies,
Repress'd by circumstance, but not destroy'd—
Steep'd, but not drown'd, in deep voluptuousness.
If born a peasant, he had been a man

To have reach'd an empire: to an empire born,
He will bequeath none; nothing but a name,
Which his sons will not prize in heritage:
Yet, not all lost, even yet he may redeem
His sloth and shame, by only being that
Which he should be, as easily as the thing
He should not be and is. Were it less toil
To sway his nations than consume his life?
To head an army than to rule a harem?
He sweats in palling pleasures, dulls his soul,
And saps his goodly strength, in toils which yield

not

Health like the chase, nor glory like the war-
He must be roused. Alas! there is no sound

[Sound of soft music heard from within.
To rouse him short of thunder. Hark! the lute,
The lyre, the timbrel; the lascivious tinklings
Of lulling instruments, the softening voices
Of women, and of beings less than women,
Must chime in to the echo of his revel,
While the great king of all we know of earth
Lolls crown'd with roses, and his diadem
Lies negligently by to be caught up

By the first manly hand which dares to snatch it.
Lo, where they come! already I perceive
The reeking odors of the perfumed trains,
And see the bright gems of the glittering girls,
At once his chorus and his council, flash
Along the gallery, and amidst the damsels,
As femininely garb'd, and scarce less female,
The grandson of Semiramis, the man-queen.-
He comes! Shall I await him? yes, and front him,
And tell him what all good men tell each other,
Speaking of him and his. They come, the slaves,
Led by the monarch subject to his slaves.

SCENE II.-Enter Sardanapalus effeminately
dressed, his Head crowned with Flowers, and his
Robe negligently flowing, attended by a Train of
Women and young Slaves.

Sar. (speaking to some of his attendants). Let the pavilion over the Euphrates

Be garlanded, and lit, and furnish'd forth
For an especial banquet; at the hour

Of midnight we will sup there: see nought wanting,
And bid the galley be prepared. There is

A cooling breeze which crisps the broad clear river:
We will embark anon. Fair nymphs, who deign
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;

*"The Ionian name had been still more comprehensive, having included the Achaians and the Bootians, who, together with those to whom it was afterwards confined, would make

Thy own sweet will shall be the only barrier
Which ever rises betwixt thee and me.
Myr. I think the present is the wonted hour
Of council; it were better I retire.

Sal. (comes forward and says). The Ionian slave says well: let her retire.

Sar. Who answers? How now, brother? Sal. The queen's brother, And your most faithful vassal, royal lord. Sar. (addressing his train). As I have said, let all dispose their hours

Till midnight, when again we

(To Myrrha, who is going.) thou wouldst remain.

Myr.

Thou didst not say so. Sar.

pray your presence. [The court retiring. Myrrha! I thought Great king,

But thou lookedst it:

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

Myr.
Sire! your brother-
Sal. His consort's brother, minion of Ionia!
How darest thou name me and not blush?

Sar. 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 ?

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

Sar. Cursed be he who caused those tears to flow! Sal. Curse not thyself-millions do that already. Sar. Thou dost forget thee: make me not remember

To language such as this: yet urge me not Beyond my easy nature.

Sal.

"T is beyond

That easy, far too easy, idle nature,

Which I would urge thee. Oh that I could rouse

thee!

Though 't were against myself.
Sar.

The man would make me tyrant.
Sal.

So thou art.
Think'st 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.
Sar. Why, what makes thee the mouthpiece of
the people?

Sal. 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.

Sar. What's that?

Which the Chaldeans read! the restless slaves
Deserve that I should curse them with their wishes,
And lead them forth to glory.
Sal.

Wherefore not?

Semiramis-a woman only-led
These our Assyrians to the solar shores
Of Ganges.

Sar.

'Tis most true. And how return'd?

And how many

Left she behind in India to the vultures ?
Sal. Our annals say not.
Sar.
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.

Sal. 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 might'st sway.
Sar.
I sway them-

She but subdued them.

Sal.

It may be ere long

That they will need her sword more than your

sceptre.

Sar. 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.
Sal. I have heard of such a man; and thou per-
ceiv'st

That he is deem'd a god for what he did.
Sar. And in his godship I will honor him-
Not much as man. What, ho! my cupbearer !
Sal. What means the king?
Sar.

To worship your new god And ancient conqueror. Some wine, I say.

Enter Cupbearer.

Sar. (addressing the Cupbearer). Bring me the
golden goblet thick with gems,
Which bears the name of Nimrod's chalice. Hence,
Fill full, and bear it quickly. [Exit Cupbearer.
Sal.
Is this moment

A fitting one for the resumption of
Thy yet unslept-off revels?

Re-enter Cupbearer, with wine.

Sar. (taking the cup from him). Noble kinsman, If these barbarian Greeks of the far shores And skirts of these our realms lie not, this Bacchus Conquer'd the whole of India, did he not?

Sal. He did, and thence was deem'd a deity. Sar. Not so:-of all his conquests a few columns Which may be his, and might be mine, if I Thought them worth purchase and conveyance, are The landmarks of the seas of gore he shed, The realms he wasted, and the hearts he broke. But here, here in this goblet is his title To immortality-the immortal grape

From which he first express'd the soul, and gave
To gladden that of man, as some atonement
For the victorious mischiefs he had done.
Had it not been for this, he would have been
A mortal still in name as in his grave;
And, like my ancestor Semiramis,

A sort of semi-glorious human monster.
Here's that which deified him-let it now
Humanize thee; my surly, chiding brother,
Pledge me to the Greek god!

Sal.
For all thy realms
I would not so blaspheme our country's creed.
Sar. That is to say, thou thinkest him a hero,
That he shed blood by oceans; and no god,
Because he turn'd a fruit to an enchantment,
Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires
The young, makes weariness forget his toil,
And fear her danger; opens a new world
When this, the present, palls. Well, then I pledge

thee

Sal. Wilt thou resume a revel at this hour? Sar. And if I did, 't were better than a trophy, Being bought without a tear. But that is not My present purpose: since thou wilt not pledge me, Continue what thou pleasest. (To the Cupbearer.)

Boy, retire.

[Exit Cupbearer. Sal. I would but have recall'd thee from thy dream;

Better by me awaken'd than rebellion.

With foreign strumpets and Ionian slaves.
The queen is silent.
Sar.

And why not her brother? Sal. I only echo thee the voice of empires, Which he who long neglects not long will govern. Sar. The ungrateful and ungracious slaves! they

murmur

Because I have not shed their blood, nor led them
To dry in the desert's dust by myriads,

Or whiten with their bones the banks of Ganges;
Nor decimated them with savage laws,
Nor sweated them to build up pyramids,
Or Babylonian walls.

Sal.
Yet these are trophies
More worthy of a people and their prince
Than songs, and lutes, and feasts, and concubines,
And lavish'd treasures, and contemned virtues.
Sar. Or for my trophies I have founded cities:
There 's Tarsus and Anchialus, both built
In one day-what could that blood-loving beldame,
My martial grandam, chaste Semiramis,
Do more, except destroy them?
Sal.

"T is most true;

I own thy merit in those founded cities,
Built for a whim, recorded with a verse,
Which shames both them and thee to coming ages.
Sar. Shame me! By Baal, the cities, though

well built,

pretext?

I am the lawful king, descended from

A race of kings who knew no predecessors.
What have I done to thee, or to the people,

That thou shouldst rail, or they rise up against me?
Sal. Of what thou hast done to me, I speak not.
Sar.
But
Thou think'st that I have wrong'd the queen: is 't
not so?

Sal. Think! thou hast wrong'd her!
Sar.
Patience, prince, and hear me.
She has all power and splendor of her station,
Respect, the tutelage of Assyria's heirs,
The homage and the appanage of sovereignty.
I married her as monarchs wed-for state,

And loved her as most husbands love their wives.
If she or thou supposedst I could link me
Like a Chaldean peasant to his mate,
Ye knew nor me, nor monarchs, nor mankind.
Sal. I pray thee, change the theme: my blood
disdains

Complaint, and Salemenes' sister seeks not
Reluctant love even from Assyria's lord!
Nor would she deign to accept divided passion

**For this expedition he took only a small chosen body of the phalanx, but all his light troops. In the first day's march he reached Anchialus, a town said to have been founded by the king of Assyria, Sardanapalus. The fortifications, in their magnitude and extent, still, in Arrian's time, bore the character of greatness, which the Assyrians appear singularly to have affected in works of the kind. A monument representing Sardanapalus was found there, warranted by an inscription in Assyrian characters, of course in the old Assyrian language, which the Greeks, whether well or ill, interpreted thus; 'Sardanapalus, son of Anacyndaraxes, in one day founded Anchialus and Tarsus. Eat, drink, play: all other human joys are not worth a fillip.' Supposing this version nearly exact (for Arrian says it was not quite so), whether the purpose has not been to invite to civil order a people disposed to turbulence, rather than to recommend immoderate luxury, may perhaps reasonably be questioned. What, indeed could be the object of a king of Assyria in founding such towns in a country so distant from his capital, and so divided from it by an immense extent of sandy deserts and lofty mountains, and, still more, how the inhab

The king, and son of Anacyndaraxes,
In one day built Anchialus and Tarsus.

Eat, drink, and love; the rest 's not worth a fillip."*
Sal. A worthy moral, and a wise inscription,
For a king to put up before his subjects!

Sar. Oh, thou wouldst have me doubtless set up edicts

"Obey the king-contribute to his treasure-
Recruit his phalanx-spill your blood at bidding—
Fall down and worship, or get up and toil."
Or thus-"Sardanapalus on this spot
Slew fifty thousand of his enemies.
These are their sepulchres, and this his trophy."
I leave such things to conquerors; enough
For me, if I can make my subjects feel
The weight of human misery less, and glide
Ungroaning to the tomb: I take no license
Which I deny to them. We all are men.

Sal. Thy sires have been revered as gods-
Sar.
In dust
And death, where they are neither gods nor men.
Talk not of such to me! the worms are gods;
At least they banqueted upon your gods,
And died for lack of further nutriment.

itants could be at once in circumstances to abandon themselves to the intemperate joys which their prince has been supposed to have recommended, is not obvious: but it may deserve observation that, in that line of coast, the southern of Lesser Asia, ruins of cities, evidently of an age after Alexander, yet barely named in history, at this day astonish the adventurous traveller by their magnificence and elegance. Amid the desolation which, under a singularly barbarian government, has for so many centuries been daily spreading in the finest countries of the globe, whether more from soil and climate, or from opportunities for commerce, extraordinary means must have been found for communities to flourish there; whence it may seem that the measures of Sardanapalus were directed by juster views than have been commonly ascribed to him; but that monarch having been the last of a dynasty ended by a revolution, obloquy on his memory would follow of course from the policy of his successors and their partisans. The inconsistency of traditions concerning Sardanapalus is striking in Diodorus's account of him."-MITFORD's Greece, vol. ix., p. 311.

I feel a thousand mortal things about me,
But nothing godlike,—unless it may be
The thing which you condemn, a disposition
To love and to be merciful, to pardon

The follies of my species, and (that 's human)
To be indulgent to my own.

Sal.

Alas!

Sal. Thou art guarded by thy foes: in a few hours The tempest may break out which overwhelms thee, And thine and mine; and in another day What is shall be the past of Belus' race. Sar. What must we dread? Sal.

Ambitious treachery, Which has environ'd thee with snares; but yet There is resource: empower me with thy signet To quell the machinations, and I lay The heads of thy chief foes before thy feet. Sar. The heads-how many? Sal. Must I stay to number When even thine own 's in peril? Let me go; Give me thy signet-trust me with the rest.

Sar. I will trust no man with unlimited lives. When we take those from others, we nor know What we have taken, nor the thing we give.

Sal. Wouldst thou not take their lives who seek for thine?

Sar. That's a hard question-But I answer, Yes. Cannot the thing be done without? Who are they Whom thou suspectest ?-Let them be arrested. Sal. I would thou wouldst not ask me; the next moment

Will send my answer through thy babbling troop Of paramours, and thence fly o'er the palace, Even to the city, and so baffle all.

Trust me.

Sar.

Thou knowest I have done so ever; Take thou the signet. [Gives the signet. Sal. I have one more request.

Sar. Name it. Sal.

That thou this night forbear the banquet In the pavilion over the Euphrates.

Sar. Forbear the banquet! Not for all the plot

ters

That ever shook a kingdom! Let them come,
And do their worst: I shall not blench for them;
Nor rise the sooner; nor forbear the goblet;
Nor crown me with a single rose the less;
Nor lose one joyous hour.-I fear them not.

Sal. But thou wouldst arm thee, wouldst thou not, if needful?

Sar. Perhaps. I have the goodliest armor, and A sword of such a temper; and a bow

And javelin, which might furnish Nimrod forth :
A little heavy, but yet not unwieldy.
And now I think on 't, 't is long since I've used them,
Even in the chase. Hast ever seen them, brother?
Sal. Is this a time for such fantastic trifling ?—
If need be, wilt thou wear them?
Sar.

Will I not?
Oh! if it must be so, and these rash slaves
Will not be ruled with less, I'll use the sword
Till they shall wish it turn'd into a distaff.
Sal. They say thy sceptre 's turn'd to that already.
Sur. That's false! but let them say so: the old
Greeks,

Of whom our captives often sing, related
The same of their chief hero, Hercules,
Because he loved a Lydian queen: thou seest
The populace of all the nations seize

Each calumny they can to sink their sovereigns.
Sal. They did not speak thus of thy fathers.
Sar.
They dared not. They were kept to toil and combat

No;

Now they have peace and pastime, and the license
To revel and to rail; it irks me not.

I would not give the smile of one fair girl
For all the popular breath that e'er divided

A name from nothing. What are the rank tongues
Of this vile herd, grown insolent with feeding,
That I should prize their noisy praise, or dread
Their noisome clamor?
Sal.

You have said they are men;
As such their hearts are something.
Sar.
So my dogs' are;*
And better, as more faithful:-but, proceed;
Thou hast my signet :-since they are tumultuous,
Let them be temper'd, yet not roughly, till
Necessity enforce it. I hate all pain,
Given or received; we have enough within us,
The meanest vassal as the loftiest monarch,
Not to add to each other's natural burthen
Of mortal misery, but rather lessen,
By mild reciprocal alleviation,
The fatal penalties imposed on life:

But this they know not, or they will not know.
I have, by Baal! done all I could to soothe them:
I made no wars, I added no new imposts,

I interfered not with their civic lives,

I let them pass their days as best might suit them, Passing my own as suited me.

Sal.

Thou stopp'st
Short of the duties of a king; and therefore
They say thou art unfit to be a monarch.

Sar. They lie.-Unhappily, I am unfit
To be aught save a monarch; else for me,
The meanest Mede might be the king instead.

Sal. There is one Mede, at least, who seeks to be so. Sar. What mean 'st thou ?-'t is thy secret; thou desirest

Few questions, and I'm not of curious nature.
Take the fit steps; and, since necessity
Requires, I sanction and support thee. Ne'er
Was man who more desired to rule in peace
The peaceful only if they rouse me, better
They had conjured up stern Nimrod from his ashes,
"The mighty hunter." I will turn these realms
To one wide desert chase of brutes, who were,
But would no more, by their own choice, be human.
What they have found me, they belie; that which
They yet may find me-shall defy their wish
To speak it worse; and let them thank themselves.
Sal. Then thou at last canst feel?
Feel! who feels not

Sar. Ingratitude? Sal.

I will not pause to answer With words, but deeds. Keep thou awake that energy Which sleeps at times, but is not dead within thee, And thou mayst yet be glorious in thy reign, As powerful in thy realm. Farewell!

[Exit Salemenes. Farewell!

Sar. (solus). He's gone; and on his finger bears my signet, Which is to him a sceptre. He is stern As I am heedless; and the slaves deserve To feel a master. What may be the danger I know not:-he hath found it, let him quell it. Must I consume my life-this little lifeIn guarding against all may make it less? It is not worth so much! It were to die Before my hour, to live in dread of death, Tracing revolt; suspecting all about me, Because they are near; and all who are remote, Because they are far. But if it should be soIf they should sweep me off from earth and empire, Why, what is earth or empire of the earth?

*See page 425, "Inscription on the Monument of a New foundland Dog."