The Works of Lord Byron Volume V Part 3

_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. 140 Semiramis, the glorious parent of A hundred kings, although she failed in India, Brought Persia--Media--Bactria--to the realm Which she once swayed--and thou _mightst_ 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 G.o.d, that is, a Grecian G.o.d, An idol foreign to a.s.syria's wors.h.i.+p, 150 Who conquered this same golden realm of Ind Thou prat'st of, where Semiramis was vanquished.

_Sal._ I have heard of such a man; and thou perceiv'st That he is deemed a G.o.d for what he did.

_Sar._ And in his G.o.ds.h.i.+p I will honour him-- Not much as man. What, ho! my cupbearer!

_Sal._ What means the King?

_Sar._ To wors.h.i.+p your new G.o.d 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, 160 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_). n.o.ble kinsman, If these barbarian Greeks of the far sh.o.r.es And skirts of these our realms lie not, this Bacchus Conquered the whole of India,[8] did he not?

_Sal._ He did, and thence was deemed a Deity.[f]

_Sar._ Not so:--of all his conquests a few columns.[9]

Which may be his, and might be mine, if I Thought them worth purchase and conveyance, are 170 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 t.i.tle To immortality--the immortal grape From which he first expressed 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, 180 A sort of semi-glorious human monster.

Here's that which deified him--let it now Humanise thee; my surly, chiding brother, Pledge me to the Greek G.o.d!

_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 G.o.d, Because he turned a fruit to an enchantment, Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires The young, makes Weariness forget his toil, 190 And Fear her danger; opens a new world When this, the present, palls. Well, then _I_ pledge thee And _him_ as a true man, who did his utmost In good or evil to surprise mankind. [_Drinks_.

_Sal._ Wilt thou resume a revel at this hour?

_Sar._ And if I did, 'twere 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 recalled thee from thy dream; 200 Better by me awakened than rebellion.

_Sar._ Who should rebel? or why? what cause? 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 wronged the Queen: is't not so?

_Sal._ _Think!_ Thou hast wronged her!

_Sar._ Patience, Prince, and hear me.

She has all power and splendour of her station, 210 Respect, the tutelage of a.s.syria'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 a.s.syria's lord! 220 Nor would she deign to accept divided pa.s.sion 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 into the desert's dust by myriads, Or whiten with their bones the banks of Ganges; Nor decimated them with savage laws, 230 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 lavished 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._ 'Tis most true; 240 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, Are not more goodly than the verse! Say what Thou wilt 'gainst me, my mode of life or rule, But nothing 'gainst the truth of that brief record.

Why, those few lines contain the history Of all things human: hear--"Sardanapalus, The king, and son of Anacyndaraxes, 250 In one day built Anchialus and Tarsus.

Eat, drink, and love; the rest's not worth a fillip."[10]

_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 wors.h.i.+p, or get up and toil."

Or thus--"Sardanapalus on this spot Slew fifty thousand of his enemies. 260 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 G.o.ds--

_Sar._ In dust And death, where they are neither G.o.ds nor men.

Talk not of such to me! the worms are G.o.ds;[11]

At least they banqueted upon your G.o.ds, 270 And died for lack of farther nutriment.

Those G.o.ds were merely men; look to their issue-- I feel a thousand mortal things about me, But nothing G.o.dlike,--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.