The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 5: PoetryByron, George Gordon Byron, Baron
General
The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 5: Poetry
Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron
English drama; English poetry
_Sar._ Since it is thus,
We'll die where we were born--in our own halls[x]
Serry your ranks--stand firm. I have despatched
A trusty satrap for the guard of Zames,
All fresh and faithful; they'll be here anon.
All is not over,--Pania, look to Myrrha.
[PANIA _returns towards_ MYRRHA.
_Sal._ We have breathing time; yet once more charge, my friends--
One for Assyria!
_Sar._ Rather say for Bactria!
My faithful Bactrians, I will henceforth be
King of your nation, and we'll hold together
This realm as province.
_Sal._ Hark! they come--they come.
_Enter_ BELESES _and_ ARBACES _with the Rebels_.
_Arb._ Set on, we have them in the toil. Charge!
charge!
_Bel._ On! on!--Heaven fights for us, and with us--On!
[_They charge the King and_ SALEMENES _with their troops,
who defend themselves till the arrival of_
ZAMES _with the Guard before mentioned.
The Rebels are then driven off, and pursued by_
SALEMENES, _etc. As the King is going to join the
pursuit,_ BELESES _crosses him_.
_Bel._ Ho! tyrant--_I_ will end this war.
_Sar._ Even so, 270
My warlike priest, and precious prophet, and
Grateful and trusty subject: yield, I pray thee.
I would reserve thee for a fitter doom,
Rather than dip my hands in holy blood.
_Bel._ Thine hour is come.
_Sar._ No, thine.--I've lately read,
Though but a young astrologer, the stars;
And ranging round the zodiac, found thy fate
In the sign of the Scorpion, which proclaims
That thou wilt now be crushed.
_Bel._ But not by thee.
[_They fight;_ BELESES _is wounded and disarmed_.
_Sar._ (_raising his sword to despatch him, exclaims_)--
Now call upon thy planets, will they shoot 280
From the sky to preserve their seer and credit?
[_A party of Rebels enter and rescue_ BELESES.
_They assail the King, who in turn, is
rescued by a Party of his Soldiers, who drive
the Rebels off_.
The villain was a prophet after all.
Upon them--ho! there--victory is ours.
[_Exit in pursuit_.
_Myr._ (_to Pan._)
Pursue! Why stand'st thou here, and leavest the ranks
Of fellow-soldiers conquering without thee?
_Pan._ The King's command was not to quit thee.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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