Hear those sweet lips grow eloquent in aught

That throws me into shade; yet you speak truth.

Myrrha. And now retire, to have your wound look'd to.

Pray lean on me.

Sard. Yes, love! but not from pain. [Exeunt omnes.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.-SARDANAPALUS discovered sleeping upon a couch, and occasionally disturbed in his slumbers, with MYRRHA watching.

Myrrha. 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 scal'd eyelids and soft dreams,

Or deep, deep sleep, so as to be unfathom'd, Look like thy brother, Death-so still-so stirless

For then we are happiest, as it may be, we
Are happiest of all within the realm
Of thy stern, silent, and unwakening 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. Sard. (awakening) Not so-although ye multiplied the stars,

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

The empire of eternity. Hence-henceOld hunter of the earliest brutes! and ye, Who hunted fellow-creatures as if brutes; Once bloody mortals—and now bloodier idols,

If your priests lie not! And thou, ghastly beldame!

Dripping with dusky gore, and trampling on The carcasses of Inde - away! away! Where am I? Where the spectres? WhereNo-that

Is no false phantom: I should know it 'midst

All that the dead dare gloomily raise up From their black gulf to daunt the living. Myrrha !

Myrrha. Alas! thou art pale, and on thy brow the drops

Gather like night-dew. My beloved, hushCalm thee. Thy speech seems of another world,

And thou art loved of this. Be of good cheer; All will go well.

Sard. Thy hand-so-'tis thy hand; 'Tis flesh; grasp-clasp-yet closer, till I feel

Myself that which I was.

Myrrha. At least know me

For what I am, and ever must be-thine. Sard. I know it now. I know this life

:

The dust we tread upon was once alive,
And wretched. But proceed what hast
thou seen?
Speak it, 'twill lighten thy dimm'd mind. -
Sard. Methought—

Myrrha. Yet pause, thou art tired-in pain-exhausted; all Which can impair both strength and spirit: seek

Rather to sleep again.

Sard. Not now-I would not Dream; though I know it now to be a dream What I have dreamt:- and canst thou bear to hear it?

Myrrha. I can bear all things, dreams of life or death,

Which I participate with you, in semblance Or full reality.

Sard. And this look'd real,

Sard. 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 recognize 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,

Because it changed not, and I turn'd for refuge

To milder guests, and sought them on the right,

Where thou wert wont to be. But

[He pauses.

Myrrha. What instead? Sard. In thy own chair-thy own place in the banquet

Till I grew stone, as they seem'd half to be,
Yet breathing stone, for 1 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!

Myrrha. And the end?

Sard. At last I sate marble as they, when

eyed,

And bloody-handed, ghastly, ghostly thing, Female in garb, and crown'd upon the brow, Furrow'd with years, yet sneering with the passion

Of vengeance, leering too with that of lust,
Sate:- my veins curdled.

Myrrha. Is this all?
Sard. Upon

Her right hand-her lank, bird-like right hand-stood

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. Myrrha. And felt you not this a mere vision?

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,

Enter SALEMENES.

Sal. Is the king so soon awake?

Sard. Yes, brother, and I would 1 had not slept;

For all the predecessors of our line
Rose up,methought, to drag me down to them.
My father was amongst them, too; but he,
I know not why, kept from me, leaving me
Between the hunter-founder of our race,
And her, the homicide and husband-killer,
Whom you call glorious.

Sal. So I term you also,

Now you have shown a spirit like to hers. By day-break I propose that we set forth, And charge once more the rebel-crew, who still

Keep gathering head, repulsed, but not quite quell'd.

Sard. How wears the night? Sal. There yet remain some hours Of darkness: use them for your further rest. Sard. No, not to-night, if 'tis not gone: methought

I pass'd hours in that vision.

Myrrha. Scarcely one;

I watch'd by you: it was a heavy hour, But an hour only.

Sard. Let us then hold council; To-morrow we set forth.

Sal. But ere that time,

I had a grace to seek.
Sard. Tis granted.

Sal. Hear it

Ere you reply too readily; and 'tis
For your ear only.

Myrrha. Prince, I take my leave.
[Exit Myrrha.
Sal. That slave deserves her freedom.
Sard. Freedom only?

That slave deserves to share a throne,

Sal. Your patience

'Tis not yet vacant, and 'tis of its partner I come to speak with you.

Sard. How! of the queen?

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 My nephews and your sons their lives, and with them

Their just pretensions to the crown, in case —

Sard. I perish—as is probable: well thought

Let them set forth with a sure escort.
Sal. That

Is all provided, and the galley ready
To drop down the Euphrates; but ere they
Depart, will you not see-

Sard. My sons? It may

Unman my heart, and the poor boys will weep;

And what can I reply to comfort them, Save with some hollow hopes, and ill-worn smiles?

You know I cannot feign.

Sal. But you can feel; At least, I trust so: in a word, the queen Requests to see you ere you part—for ever. Sard. Unto what end? what purpose? I will grant

Aught-all that she can ask-but such a meeting.

Sal.

You know, or ought to know,
enough of women,

Since you have studied them so steadily,
That what they ask in aught that touches on
The heart, is dearer to their feelings or
Their fancy, than the whole external world.
I think as you do of my sister's wish;
But 'twas her wish-she is my sister-you
Her husband-will you grant it?
Sard. 'Twill be useless:
But let her come.

Sal. I go.

[Exit Salemenes. Sard. We have lived asunder Too long to meet again—and now to meet! Have I not cares enow, and pangs enow, To bear alone, that we must mingle sorrows, Who have ceased to mingle love?

Re-enter SALEMENES and ZARINA. Sal. My sister! Courage:

Shame not our blood with trembling, but remember

From whence we sprung. The queen is present, sire.

Zarina. I pray thee, brother, leave me, Sal. Since you ask it. [Exit Salemenes. Zarina. Alone with him! How many a

year has past,

Though we are still so young, since we have met,

Which I have worn in widowhood of heart. He loved me not: yet he seems little changed

Changed to me only-would the change were mutual!

He speaks not- scarce regards me-not a

word

my-that is,

Your children's sake!

Sard, 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 look'd like a chain for me or others (This even rebellion must avouch); yet hear These words, perhaps among my last—that

none

E'er valued more thy virtues, though he knew not

To profit by them--as the miner lights 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.

Zarina. Oh! if thou hast at length Discover'd that my love is worth esteem, I ask no more - but let ns hence together, And 1-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 blest Than I have ever been, or thou, with all An empire to indulge thee.

of state:

Zarina. No

My heart will break.

Sal. Now you know all - decide.

Sard. Zarina, he hath spoken well, and we Must yield awhile to this necessity. 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.

Sard. 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 above the blighted name and

ashes

Lead her away.

Zarina. Oh, God! I never shall Behold him more!

Sal. (striving to conduct her) Nay, sister, I must be obey'd.

Zarina. 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.

Zarina. That's false! I knew he lived, And lived upon his image-let me go!

Sal. (conducting her off the stage) Nay, then, I must use some fraternal force, Which you will pardon.

Zarina. Never. Help me! Oh! Sardanapalus, wilt thou thus behold me Torn from thee?