Enter an Officer, hastily.

Sar. Thy face seems ominous. Speak!

Myr.

I thought 'twas the intent
Of Salemenes not to risk a sally
Till ye were strengthen'd by the expected succours.
Sar. I overruled him.
Myr.
Well, the fault's a brave one.
Sar. But fatal. Oh, my brother! I would give
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.

I dare not.

Dare not?

Sar While millions dare revolt with sword in hand! 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.

Pan.
Proceed, thou hearest.
Offi. 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 bul
wark.

Pan. 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.'

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

Some twenty stadia.*

Sar.

Pervious to the assailants?

Offi.

About

And all this is left

For the present

Pan.

With your sanction,

I will proceed to the spot, and take such measures
For the assurance of the vacant space
As time and means permit.

Sar.

About it straight, And bring me back, as speedily as full And fair investigation may permit, Report of the true state of this irruption Of waters. [Exeunt Pania and the Officer. Myr. Thus the very waves rise up Against you.

Sar They are not my subjects, girl, And may be pardon'd, since they can't be punish'd. Myr. I joy to see this portent shakes you not. Sar. I am past the fear of portents: they can

tell me

About two miles and a half.

Myr.

Save one deed--the last
And greatest to all mortals; crowning act
Of all that was, or is, or is to be-

The only thing common to all mankind,

So different in their births, tongues, sexes, natures, Hues, features, climes, times, feelings, intellects, Without one point of union save in this,

To which we tend, for which we're born, and thread The labyrinth of mystery, call'd life. [cheerful.

Sar. Our clew being wellnigh wound out let's be They who have nothing more to fear may well Indulge a smile at that which once appall'd; As children at discover'd bugbears.

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.

[pleasure,

With a heavy but true heart,

'Tis enough, now order here

Pan.
I promise.
Sar.
Faggots, 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.

Pan. Sar.

And you have sworn.

Pan. Without a vow.

My lord!

I have said it, And could keep my faith ¡Exit Pania.

What mean you?

You shall know

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

Pania, returning with a Herald.

Pan. My king, in going forth upon my duty, This herald has been brought before me, craving An audience. Let him speak.

Sar.

Her.

The King Arbaces

Sar. What, crown'd already?-But, proceed. ller.

The anointed high-priest

Sar.

Beleses,

Of what god or demon? With new kings rise new altars. But, proceed; You are sent to prate your master's will, and not Reply to mine.

'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.

Her. They offer thee thy life, and freedom Of choice to single out a residence

In any of the further provinces,

Guarded and watch'd, but not confined in person,' Where thou shalt pass thy days in peace; but on Condition that the three young princes are

Given up as hostages.

Sar. [ironically.)

Her. I wait the answer.

Sar.

The generous victors!

Answer, slave! How long

Her.

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?
Sar. He's right.-Let him go free.—My life's last
Shall not be one of wrath. Here, fellow, take

[act

Sar Too many far have heralded Me to the dust already. Get thee hence: Enrich thee.

Ран,

Sar.

Think upon

Thy vow:-'tis sacred and irrevocable. Pan. Since it is so, farewell. Sar. Search well my chamber, Feel no remorse at bearing off the gold; Remember, what you leave you leave the slaves Who slew me: and when you have borne away All safe off to your boats, blow one long blast Upon the trumpet as you quit the palace. The river's brink is too remote, its stream Too loud at present to permit the echo To reach distinctly from its banks. Then fly,And as you sail, turn back; but still keep on Your way along the Euphrates: if you reach The land of Paphlagonia, where the queen Is safe with my three sons in Cotta's court, Say, what you saw at parting, and request That she remember what I said at one Parting more mournful still.

Pan.

That royal hand! Let me then once more press it to my lips; And these poor soldiers who throng round you, and Would fain die with you!

[The Soldiers and Pania throng round him, kissing his hand and the hem of his robe. Sar. My best! my last friends! Let's not unman each other: part at once: All farewells should be sudden, when for ever, Else they make an eternity of moments, And clog the last sad sands of life with tears. Hence, and be happy: trust me, I am not Now to be pitied; or far more for what Is past than present; for the future, 'tis In the hands of the deities, if such There be: I shall know soon.

Farewell-farewell. [Exeunt Pania and Soldiers.

Afr. These men were honest: it is comfort still That our last looks should be on loving faces.

Sar. And lovely ones, my beautiful! but hear me !. If at this moment-for we now are on

The brink-thou feel'st an inward shrinking from
This leap through flame into the future, say it :
I shall not love thee less; nay, perhaps more,
For yielding to thy nature; and there's time
Yet for thee to escape hence.

Myr.
Shall I light
One of the torches which lie heap'd beneath
The ever-burning lamp that burns without,
Before Baal's shrine in the adjoining hall?
Sar. Do so. Is that thy answer?
Myr.

Thou shalt see.

[Exit Myrrha.

Sar [solus.] She's firm. My fathers! whom I

will rejoin,

It may be, purified by death from some
Of the gross stains of too material being,
I would not leave your ancient first abode
To the defilement of usurping bondmen;
If I have not kept your inheritance
As ye bequeath'd it, this bright part of it,
Your treasure, your abode, your sacred relics
Of arms and records, monuments, and spoils,
In which they would have revell'd, I bear with me
To you in that absorbing element,
Which most personifies the soul as leaving
The least of matter unconsumed before
Its fiery workings:-and the light of this
Most royal of funereal pyres shall be
Not a mere pillar form of cloud and flame,
A beacon in the horizon for a day,
And then a mount of ashes, but a light
To lesson ages, rebel nations, and
Voluptuous princes. Time shall quench full many
A people's records, and a hero's acts;
Sweep empire after empire, like this first
Of empires, into nothing; but even then
Shall spare this deed of mine, and hold it up
A problem few dare imitate, and none
Despise-but, it may be, avoid the life
Which led to such a consummation,

Myrrha returns with a lighted torch in one hand,
and a cup in the other.
Lo!

Myr.
I've lit the lamp which lights us to the stars.

Sar.

Then

It is long

Now, farewell; one last embrace. Myr. Embrace, but not the last; there is one more. Sar. True, the commingling fire will mix our ashes.

Myr. And pure as is my love to thee, shall they, Purged from the dross of earth, and earthly passion, Mix pale with thine. A single thought yet irks me. Sar. Say it. Myr.

It is that no kind hand will gather
The dust of both into one urn.

Sar.
The better:
Rather let them be borne abroad upon
The winds of heaven, and scatter'd into air,
Than be polluted more by human hands
Of slaves and traitors. In this blazing palace,
And its enormous walls of reeking ruin,

We leave a nobler monument than Egypt
Hath piled in her brick mountains, o'er dead kings,
Or kine, for none know whether those proud piles
Be for their monarch or their ox-god Apis:
So much for monuments that have forgotten
Their very record!

Sar.

Is yours.

[thee!

The trumpet of Paņia sounds without. Hark!

Now!

Adieu, Assyria!

I loved thee well, my own, my fathers' land,
And better as my country than my kingdom.
I sated thee with peace and joys; and this
Is my reward! and now I owe thee nothing,
Not even a grave.
[He mounts the pile.
Now, Myrrha!

Myr.

Sar. As the torch in thy grasp,

Myr.

Art thou ready?

[Myrrha fires the pile. 'Tis fired! I come.

[As Myrtha springs forward to throw herself into the flames, the Curtain falls.