Salemenes (solus). He hath wronged his queen, but still he is her lord;

He hath wronged my sister—still he is my brother;

He hath wronged 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 Corruption10

Has not all quenched, and latent energies,

Repressed by circumstance, but not destroyed—

Steeped, but not drowned, in deep voluptuousness.

If born a peasant, he had been a man

To have reached 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 thing20

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,[a]

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 voices30

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 crowned 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 odours of the perfumed trains,

And see the bright gems of the glittering girls,[b]

At once his Chorus and his Council, flash40

Along the gallery, and amidst the damsels,

As femininely garbed, 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.

Sar. (speaking to some of his attendants). Let the pavilion[6] over the Euphrates

Be garlanded, and lit, and furnished 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,10

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,[7] choose;

Wilt thou along with them or me?

Myr.‍My Lord—

Sar. 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?

Myr.‍The King's choice is mine.

Sar. I pray thee say not so: my chiefest joy20

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.

Myr. I would remain: I have no happiness

Save in beholding thine; yet——

Sar.‍Yet! what yet?

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.30

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