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
_Sal._ 'Twas not ill done:
For seeming slain in that cold dizzy trance,
The sight might shake our soldiers--but--'tis vain,
I feel it ebbing!
_Myr._ Let me see the wound; 100
I am not quite skilless: in my native land
'Tis part of our instruction. War being constant,
We are nerved to look on such things.[an]
_Sol._ Best extract
The javelin.
_Myr._ Hold! no, no, it cannot be.
_Sal._ I am sped, then!
_Myr._ With the blood that fast must follow
The extracted weapon, I do fear thy life.
_Sal._ And I _not_ death. Where was the King when you
Conveyed me from the spot where I was stricken?
_Sol._ Upon the same ground, and encouraging
With voice and gesture the dispirited troops 110
Who had seen you fall, and faltered back.
_Sal._ Whom heard ye
Named next to the command?
_Sol._ I did not hear.
_Sal._ Fly, then, and tell him, 'twas my last request
That Zames take my post until the junction,
So hoped for, yet delayed, of Ofratanes,
Satrap of Susa. Leave me here: our troops
Are not so numerous as to spare your absence.
_Sol._ But Prince----
_Sal._ Hence, I say! Here's a courtier and
A woman, the best chamber company.
As you would not permit me to expire 120
Upon the field, I'll have no idle soldiers
About my sick couch. Hence! and do my bidding!
[_Exeunt the Soldiers_.
_Myr._ Gallant and glorious Spirit! must the earth
So soon resign thee?
_Sal._ Gentle Myrrha, 'tis
The end I would have chosen, had I saved
The monarch or the monarchy by this;
As 'tis, I have not outlived them.
_Myr._ You wax paler.
_Sal._ Your hand; this broken weapon but prolongs
My pangs, without sustaining life enough
To make me useful: I would draw it forth 130
And my life with it, could I but hear how
The fight goes.
_Enter_ SARDANAPALUS _and Soldiers_.
_Sar._ My best brother!
_Sal._ And the battle
Is lost?
_Sar._ (_despondingly_). You see _me here_.
_Sal._ I'd rather see you _thus!_
[_He draws out the weapon from the wound, and dies_.
_Sar._ And _thus_ I will be seen; unless the succour,
The last frail reed of our beleagured hopes,
Arrive with Ofratanes.
_Myr._ Did you not
Receive a token from your dying brother,
Appointing Zames chief?
_Sar._ I did.
_Myr._ Where's Zames?
_Sar._ Dead.
_Myr._ And Altada?
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