The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 5: PoetryByron, George Gordon Byron, Baron
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The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 5: Poetry
Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron
English drama; English poetry
_Arb._ I doubt it.
How many Satraps have I seen set out
In his Sire's day for mighty Vice-royalties,
Whose tombs are on their path! I know not how,
But they all sickened by the way, it was
So long and heavy.
_Bel._ Let us but regain 440
The free air of the city, and we'll shorten
The journey.
_Arb._ 'Twill be shortened at the gates,
It may be.
_Bel._ No; they hardly will risk that.
They mean us to die privately, but not
Within the palace or the city walls,
Where we are known, and may have partisans:
If they had meant to slay us here, we were
No longer with the living. Let us hence.
_Arb._ If I but thought he did not mean my life--
_Bel._ Fool! hence--what else should despotism alarmed 450
Mean? Let us but rejoin our troops, and march.
_Arb._ Towards our provinces?
_Bel._ No; towards your kingdom.
There's time--there's heart, and hope, and power, and means--
Which their half measures leave us in full scope.--
Away!
_Arb._ And I even yet repenting must
Relapse to guilt!
_Bel._ Self-defence is a virtue,
Sole bulwark of all right. Away, I say!
Let's leave this place, the air grows thick and choking,
And the walls have a scent of night-shade--hence!
Let us not leave them time for further council. 460
Our quick departure proves our civic zeal;
Our quick departure hinders our good escort,
The worthy Pania, from anticipating
The orders of some parasangs from hence:
Nay, there's no other choice, but----hence, I say[p].
[_Exit with_ ARBACES, _who follows reluctantly_.
_Enter_ SARDANAPALUS _and_ SALEMENES.
_Sar._ Well, all is remedied, and without bloodshed,
That worst of mockeries of a remedy;
We are now secure by these men's exile.
_Sal._ Yes,
As he who treads on flowers is from the adder
Twined round their roots.
_Sar._ Why, what wouldst have me do? 470
_Sal._ Undo what you have done.
_Sar._ Revoke my pardon?
_Sal._ Replace the crown now tottering on your temples.
_Sar._ That were tyrannical.
_Sal._ But sure.
_Sar._ We are so.
What danger can they work upon the frontier?
_Sal._ They are not there yet--never should they be so,
Were I well listened to.
_Sar._ Nay, I _have_ listened
Impartially to thee--why not to them?
_Sal._ You may know that hereafter; as it is,
I take my leave to order forth the guard.
_Sar._ And you will join us at the banquet?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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