_Sar._ (_solus_). Farewell! 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. 390 Must I consume my life--this little life-- In 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 so-- If they should sweep me off from Earth and Empire, Why, what is Earth or Empire of the Earth? I have loved, and lived, and multiplied my image; 400 To die is no less natural than those Acts of this clay! 'Tis true I have not shed Blood as I might have done, in oceans, till My name became the synonyme of Death-- A terror and a trophy. But for this I feel no penitence; my life is love: If I must shed blood, it shall be by force. Till now, no drop from an Assyrian vein Hath flowed for me, nor hath the smallest coin Of Nineveh's vast treasures e'er been lavished 410 On objects which could cost her sons a tear: If then they hate me, 'tis because I hate not: If they rebel, 'tis because I oppress not. Oh, men! ye must be ruled with scythes, not sceptres, And mowed down like the grass, else all we reap Is rank abundance, and a rotten harvest Of discontents infecting the fair soil, Making a desert of fertility.-- I'll think no more.--Within there, ho! _Enter an_ ATTENDANT. _Sar._ Slave, tell The Ionian Myrrha we would crave her presence. 420 _Attend._ King, she is here. MYRRHA _enters_. _Sar._ (_apart to Attendant_). Away! (_Addressing_ MYRRHA.) Beautiful being! Thou dost almost anticipate my heart; It throbbed for thee, and here thou comest: let me Deem that some unknown influence, some sweet oracle, Communicates between us, though unseen, In absence, and attracts us to each other. _Myr._ There doth. _Sar._ I know there doth, but not its name: What is it? _Myr._ In my native land a God, And in my heart a feeling like a God's, Exalted; yet I own 'tis only mortal; 430 For what I feel is humble, and yet happy-- That is, it would be happy; but---- [MYRRHA _pauses_. _Sar._ There comes For ever something between us and what We deem our happiness: let me remove The barrier which that hesitating accent Proclaims to thine, and mine is sealed. _Myr._ My Lord!--