_Alt._ Mighty though They were, as all thy royal line have been, Yet none of those who went before have reached The acmé of Sardanapalus, who 10 Has placed his joy in peace--the sole true glory. _Sar._ And pleasure, good Altada, to which glory Is but the path. What is it that we seek? Enjoyment! We have cut the way short to it, And not gone tracking it through human ashes, Making a grave with every footstep. _Zam._ No; All hearts are happy, and all voices bless The King of peace--who holds a world in jubilee. _Sar._ Art sure of that? I have heard otherwise; Some say that there be traitors. _Zam._ Traitors they 20 Who dare to say so!--'Tis impossible. What cause? _Sar._ What cause? true,--fill the goblet up; We will not think of them: there are none such, Or if there be, they are gone. _Alt._ Guests, to my pledge! Down on your knees, and drink a measure to The safety of the King--the monarch, say I? The God Sardanapalus! [ZAMES _and the Guests kneel, and exclaim_-- Mightier than His father Baal, the God Sardanapalus! [_It thunders as they kneel; some start up in confusion_. _Zam._ Why do you rise, my friends? in that strong peal His father gods consented. _Myr._ Menaced, rather. 30 King, wilt thou bear this mad impiety? _Sar._ Impiety!--nay, if the sires who reigned Before me can be Gods, I'll not disgrace Their lineage. But arise, my pious friends; Hoard your devotion for the Thunderer there: I seek but to be loved, not worshipped. _Alt._ Both-- Both you must ever be by all true subjects. _Sar._ Methinks the thunders still increase: it is An awful night. _Myr._ Oh yes, for those who have No palace to protect their worshippers. 40 _Sar._ That's true, my Myrrha; and could I convert My realm to one wide shelter for the wretched, I'd do it. _Myr._ Thou'rt no God, then--not to be Able to work a will so good and general, As thy wish would imply. _Sar._ And your Gods, then, Who can, and do not? _Myr._ Do not speak of that, Lest we provoke them. _Sar._ True--, they love not censure Better than mortals. Friends, a thought has struck me: Were there no temples, would there, think ye, be Air worshippers?[v] that is, when it is angry, 50 And pelting as even now. _Myr._ The Persian prays Upon his mountain. _Sar._ Yes, when the Sun shines.