No More Learning

_Myr. _ Alas! thou art pale, and on thy brow the drops
Gather like night dew. My beloved, hush--
Calm thee. Thy speech seems of another world, 40
And thou art lord of this. Be of good cheer;
All will go well.

_Sar. _ Thy _hand_--so--'tis thy hand;
'Tis flesh; grasp--clasp--yet closer, till I feel
Myself that which I was.

_Myr. _ At least know me
For what I am, and ever must be--thine.

_Sar. _ I know it now. I know this life again.
Ah, Myrrha! I have been where we shall be.

_Myr. _ My lord!

_Sar. _ I've been i' the grave--where worms are lords
And kings are----But I did not deem it so;
I thought 'twas nothing.

_Myr. _ So it is; except 50
Unto the timid, who anticipate
That which may never be.

_Sar. _ Oh, Myrrha! if
Sleep shows such things, what may not Death disclose?

_Myr. _ I know no evil Death can show, which Life
Has not already shown to those who live
Embodied longest. If there be indeed
A shore where Mind survives, 'twill be as Mind
All unincorporate: or if there flits
A shadow of this cumbrous clog of clay.
Which stalks, methinks, between our souls and heaven, 60
And fetters us to earth--at least the phantom,
Whate'er it have to fear, will not fear Death.

_Sar. _ I fear it not; but I have felt--have seen--
A legion of the dead.

_Myr. _ And so have I.
The dust we tread upon was once alive,
And wretched. But proceed: what hast thou seen?
Speak it, 'twill lighten thy dimmed mind.

_Sar. _ Methought----

_Myr. _ Yet pause, thou art tired--in pain--exhausted; all
Which can impair both strength and spirit: seek
Rather to sleep again.

_Sar. _ Not now--I would not 70
Dream; though I know it now to be a dream
What I have dreamt:--and canst thou bear to hear it?

_Myr. _ I can bear all things, dreams of life or death,
Which I participate with you in semblance
Or full reality.

_Sar. _ And this looked real,
I tell you: after that these eyes were open,
I saw them in their flight--for then they fled.

_Myr. _ Say on.

_Sar. _ I saw, that is, I dreamed myself
Here--here--even where we are, guests as we were,
Myself a host that deemed himself but guest, 80
Willing to equal all in social freedom;
But, on my right hand and my left, instead
Of thee and Zames, and our customed meeting,
Was ranged on my left hand a haughty, dark,
And deadly face; I could not recognise it,
Yet I had seen it, though I knew not where:
The features were a Giant's, and the eye
Was still, yet lighted; his long locks curled down
On his vast bust, whence a huge quiver rose
With shaft-heads feathered from the eagle's wing, 90
That peeped up bristling through his serpent hair. [ae]
I invited him to fill the cup which stood
Between us, but he answered not; I filled it;
He took it not, but stared upon me, till
I trembled at the fixed glare of his eye:
I frowned upon him as a king should frown;
He frowned not in his turn, but looked upon me
With the same aspect, which appalled me more,
Because it changed not; and I turned for refuge
To milder guests, and sought them on the right, 100
Where thou wert wont to be. But---- [_He pauses_.

_Myr. _ What instead?

_Sar. _ In thy own chair--thy own place in the banquet--
I sought thy sweet face in the circle--but
Instead--a grey-haired, withered, bloody-eyed,
And bloody-handed, ghastly, ghostly thing,
Female in garb, and crowned upon the brow,
Furrowed with years, yet sneering with the passion
Of vengeance, leering too with that of lust,
Sate:--my veins curdled. [24]

_Myr. _ Is this all?

_Sar. _ Upon
Her right hand--her lank, bird-like, right hand--stood 110
A goblet, bubbling o'er with blood; and on
Her left, another, filled with--what I saw not,
But turned from it and her. But all along
The table sate a range of crowned wretches,
Of various aspects, but of one expression.

_Myr. _ And felt you not this a mere vision?

_Sar. _ No:
It was so palpable, I could have touched them.
I turned from one face to another, in
The hope to find at last one which I knew
Ere I saw theirs: but no--all turned upon me, 120
And stared, but neither ate nor drank, but stared,
Till I grew stone, as they seemed half to be,
Yet breathing stone, for I felt life in them,
And life in me: there was a horrid kind
Of sympathy between us, as if they
Had lost a part of death to come to me,
And I the half of life to sit by them.
We were in an existence all apart
From heaven or earth----And rather let me see
Death all than such a being!

_Myr. _ And the end? 130

_Sar. _ At last I sate, marble, as they, when rose
The Hunter and the Crone; and smiling on me--
Yes, the enlarged but noble aspect of
The Hunter smiled upon me--I should say,
His lips, for his eyes moved not--and the woman's
Thin lips relaxed to something like a smile.
Both rose, and the crowned figures on each hand
Rose also, as if aping their chief shades--
Mere mimics even in death--but I sate still:
A desperate courage crept through every limb, 140
And at the last I feared them not, but laughed
Full in their phantom faces. But then--then
The Hunter laid his hand on mine: I took it,
And grasped it--but it melted from my own;
While he too vanished, and left nothing but
The memory of a hero, for he looked so.

_Myr. _ And was: the ancestor of heroes, too,
And thine no less.

_Sar. _ Aye, Myrrha, but the woman,
The female who remained, she flew upon me,
And burnt my lips up with her noisome kisses; 150
And, flinging down the goblets on each hand,
Methought their poisons flowed around us, till
Each formed a hideous river. Still she clung;
The other phantoms, like a row of statues,
Stood dull as in our temples, but she still
Embraced me, while I shrunk from her, as if,
In lieu of her remote descendant, I
Had been the son who slew her for her incest. [25]
Then--then--a chaos of all loathsome things
Thronged thick and shapeless: I was dead, yet feeling-- 160
Buried, and raised again--consumed by worms,
Purged by the flames, and withered in the air!
I can fix nothing further of my thoughts,
Save that I longed for thee, and sought for thee,
In all these agonies,--and woke and found thee.

_Myr. _ So shalt thou find me ever at thy side,
Here and hereafter, if the last may be.
But think not of these things--the mere creations
Of late events, acting upon a frame
Unused by toil, yet over-wrought by toil-- 170
Such as might try the sternest.

_Sar. _ I am better.
Now that I see thee once more, _what was seen_
Seems nothing.

_Enter_ SALEMENES.

_Sal. _ Is the king so soon awake?

_Sar. _ Yes, brother, and I would I had not slept;
For all the predecessors of our line
Rose up, methought, to drag me down to them.
My father was amongst them, too; but he,
I know not why, kept from me, leaving me
Between the hunter-founder of our race,
And her, the homicide and husband-killer, 180
Whom you call glorious.

_Sal. _ So I term you also,
Now you have shown a spirit like to hers.
By day-break I propose that we set forth,
And charge once more the rebel crew, who still
Keep gathering head, repulsed, but not quite quelled.

_Sar. _ How wears the night?

_Sal. _ There yet remain some hours
Of darkness: use them for your further rest.

_Sar. _ No, not to-night, if 'tis not gone: methought
I passed hours in that vision.

_Myr. _ Scarcely one;
I watched by you: it was a heavy hour, 190
But an hour only.

_Sar. _ Let us then hold council;
To-morrow we set forth.

_Sal. _ But ere that time,
I had a grace to seek.

_Sar. _ 'Tis granted.

_Sal. _ Hear it
Ere you reply too readily; and 'tis
For _your_ ear only.

_Myr. _ Prince, I take my leave.
[Exit MYRRHA.

_Sal. _ That slave deserves her freedom.

_Sar. _ Freedom only!
That slave deserves to share a throne.

_Sal. _ Your patience--
'Tis not yet vacant, and 'tis of its partner
I come to speak with you.

_Sar. _ How! of the Queen?

_Sal. _ Even so. I judged it fitting for their safety, 200
That, ere the dawn, she sets forth with her children
For Paphlagonia, where our kinsman Cotta[26]
Governs; and there, at all events, secure
My nephews and your sons their lives, and with them
Their just pretensions to the crown in case----

_Sar. _ I perish--as is probable: well thought--
Let them set forth with a sure escort.

_Sal. _ That
Is all provided, and the galley ready
To drop down the Euphrates; but ere they
Depart, will you not see----

_Sar. _ My sons? It may 210
Unman my heart, and the poor boys will weep;
And what can I reply to comfort them,
Save with some hollow hopes, and ill-worn smiles?
You know I cannot feign.

_Sal. _ But you can feel!
At least, I trust so: in a word, the Queen
Requests to see you ere you part--for ever.

_Sar. _ Unto what end? what purpose? I will grant
Aught--all that she can ask--but such a meeting.

_Sal. _ You know, or ought to know, enough of women,
Since you have studied them so steadily[af], 220
That what they ask in aught that touches on
The heart, is dearer to their feelings or
Their fancy, than the whole external world.
I think as you do of my sister's wish;
But 'twas her wish--she is my sister--you
Her husband--will you grant it?

_Sar. _ 'Twill be useless:
But let her come.

_Sal. _ I go. [_Exit_ SALEMENES.

_Sar. _ We have lived asunder
Too long to meet again--and _now_ to meet!
Have I not cares enow, and pangs enow,
To bear alone, that we must mingle sorrows, 230
Who have ceased to mingle love?

_Re-enter_ SALEMENES _and_ ZARINA.

_Sal. _ My sister! Courage:
Shame not our blood with trembling, but remember
From whence we sprung. The Queen is present, Sire.

_Zar. _ I pray thee, brother, leave me.

_Sal. _ Since you ask it.
[_Exit_ SALEMENES.

_Zar. _ Alone with him! How many a year has passed[27],
Though we are still so young, since we have met,
Which I have worn in widowhood of heart.
He loved me not: yet he seems little changed--
Changed to me only--would the change were mutual!
He speaks not--scarce regards me--not a word, 240
Nor look--yet he _was_ soft of voice and aspect,
Indifferent, not austere. My Lord!

_Sar. _ Zarina!

_Zar. _ No, _not_ Zarina--do not say Zarina.
That tone--That word--annihilate long years,
And things which make them longer.

_Sar. _ 'Tis too late
To think of these past dreams. Let's not reproach--
That is, reproach me not--for the _last_ time----

_Zar. _ And _first_, I ne'er reproached you.

_Sar. _ 'Tis most true;
And that reproof comes heavier on my heart
Than----But our hearts are not in our own power. 250

_Zar. _ Nor hands; but I gave both.

_Sar. _ Your brother said
It was your will to see me, ere you went
From Nineveh with----(_He hesitates_. )

_Zar. _ Our children: it is true.
I wish to thank you that you have not divided
My heart from all that's left it now to love--
Those who are yours and mine, who look like you,
And look upon me as you looked upon me
Once----but _they_ have not changed.

_Sar. _ Nor ever will.
I fain would have them dutiful.

_Zar. _ I cherish
Those infants, not alone from the blind love 260
Of a fond mother, but as a fond woman.
They are now the only tie between us.

_Sar. _ Deem not
I have not done you justice: rather make them
Resemble your own line than their own Sire.
I trust them with you--to you: fit them for
A throne, or, if that be denied----You have heard
Of this night's tumults?

_Zar. _ I had half forgotten,
And could have welcomed any grief save yours,
Which gave me to behold your face again.

_Sar. _ The throne--I say it not in fear--but 'tis 270
In peril: they perhaps may never mount it:
But let them not for this lose sight of it.
I will dare all things to bequeath it them;
But if I fail, then they must win it back
Bravely--and, won, wear it wisely, not as I[ag]
Have wasted down my royalty.

_Zar. _ They ne'er
Shall know from me of aught but what may honour
Their father's memory.

_Sar.
_ Rather let them hear
The truth from you than from a trampling world.
If they be in adversity, they'll learn 280
Too soon the scorn of crowds for crownless Princes,
And find that all their father's sins are theirs.
My boys! --I could have borne it were I childless.

_Zar. _ Oh! do not say so--do not poison all
My peace left, by unwishing that thou wert
A father. If thou conquerest, they shall reign,
And honour him who saved the realm for them,
So little cared for as his own; and if----

_Sar. _ 'Tis lost, all Earth will cry out, "thank your father! "
And they will swell the echo with a curse. 290

_Zar. _ That they shall never do; but rather honour
The name of him, who, dying like a king,
In his last hours did more for his own memory
Than many monarchs in a length of days,
Which date the flight of time, but make no annals.

_Sar. _ Our annals draw perchance unto their close;
But at the least, whate'er the past, their end
Shall be like their beginning--memorable.

_Zar. _ Yet, be not rash--be careful of your life,
Live but for those who love.

_Sar. _ And who are they? 300
A slave, who loves from passion--I'll not say
Ambition--she has seen thrones shake, and loves;
A few friends who have revelled till we are
As one, for they are nothing if I fall;
A brother I have injured--children whom
I have neglected, and a spouse----

_Zar. _ Who loves.

_Sar. _ And pardons?

_Zar. _ I have never thought of this,
And cannot pardon till I have condemned.

_Sar. _ My wife!

_Zar. _ Now blessings on thee for that word!
I never thought to hear it more--from thee. 310

_Sar. _ Oh! thou wilt hear it from my subjects. Yes--
These slaves whom I have nurtured, pampered, fed,
And swoln with peace, and gorged with plenty, till
They reign themselves--all monarchs in their mansions--
Now swarm forth in rebellion, and demand
His death, who made their lives a jubilee;
While the few upon whom I have no claim
Are faithful! This is true, yet monstrous.

_Zar. _ 'Tis
Perhaps too natural; for benefits
Turn poison in bad minds.

_Sar. _ And good ones make 320
Good out of evil. Happier than the bee,
Which hives not but from wholesome flowers.

_Zar. _ Then reap
The honey, nor inquire whence 'tis derived.
Be satisfied--you are not all abandoned.

_Sar. _ My life insures me that. How long, bethink you,
Were not I yet a king, should I be mortal;
That is, where mortals _are_, not where they must be?

_Zar. _ I know not. But yet live for my--that is,
Your children's sake!

_Sar. _ My gentle, wronged Zarina!
I am the very slave of Circumstance 330
And Impulse--borne away with every breath!
Misplaced upon the throne--misplaced in life.
I know not what I could have been, but feel
I am not what I should be--let it end.
But take this with thee: if I was not formed
To prize a love like thine, a mind like thine,
Nor dote even on thy beauty--as I've doted
On lesser charms, for no cause save that such
Devotion was a duty, and I hated
All that looked like a chain for me or others 340
(This even Rebellion must avouch); yet hear
These words, perhaps among my last--that none
E'er valued more thy virtues, though he knew not
To profit by them--as the miner lights
Upon a vein of virgin ore, discovering
That which avails him nothing: he hath found it,
But 'tis not his--but some superior's, who
Placed him to dig, but not divide the wealth
Which sparkles at his feet; nor dare he lift
Nor poise it, but must grovel on, upturning 350
The sullen earth.

_Zar. _ Oh! if thou hast at length
Discovered that my love is worth esteem,
I ask no more--but let us hence together,
And _I_--let me say _we_--shall yet be happy.
Assyria is not all the earth--we'll find
A world out of our own--and be more blessed
Than I have ever been, or thou, with all
An empire to indulge thee.

_Enter_ SALEMENES.

_Sal. _ I must part ye--
The moments, which must not be lost, are passing.

_Zar. _ Inhuman brother! wilt thou thus weigh out 360
Instants so high and blest?

_Sal. _ Blest!

_Zar. _ He hath been
So gentle with me, that I cannot think
Of quitting.

_Sal. _ So--this feminine farewell
Ends as such partings end, in _no_ departure.
I thought as much, and yielded against all
My better bodings. But it must not be.

_Zar. _ Not be?

_Sal. _ Remain, and perish----

_Zar. _ With my husband----

_Sal. _ And children.

_Zar. _ Alas!

_Sal. _ Hear me, sister, like
_My_ sister:--all's prepared to make your safety
Certain, and of the boys too, our last hopes; 370
'Tis not a single question of mere feeling,
Though that were much--but 'tis a point of state:
The rebels would do more to seize upon
The offspring of their sovereign, and so crush----

_Zar. _ Ah! do not name it.

_Sal. _ Well, then, mark me: when
They are safe beyond the Median's grasp, the rebels
Have missed their chief aim--the extinction of
The line of Nimrod. Though the present King
Fall, his sons live--for victory and vengeance.

_Zar. _ But could not I remain, alone?

_Sal. _ What! leave 380
Your children, with two parents and yet orphans--
In a strange land--so young, so distant?

_Zar. _ No--
My heart will break.

_Sal. _ Now you know all--decide.

_Sar. _ Zarina, he hath spoken well, and we
Must yield awhile to this necessity.
Remaining here, you may lose all; departing,
You save the better part of what is left,
To both of us, and to such loyal hearts
As yet beat in these kingdoms.

_Sal. _ The time presses.

_Sar. _ Go, then. If e'er we meet again, perhaps 390
I may be worthier of you--and, if not,
Remember that my faults, though not atoned for,
Are _ended_. Yet, I dread thy nature will
Grieve more above the blighted name and ashes
Which once were mightiest in Assyria--than----
But I grow womanish again, and must not;
I must learn sternness now. My sins have all
Been of the softer order----_hide_ thy tears--
I do not bid thee _not_ to shed them--'twere
Easier to stop Euphrates at its source 400
Than one tear of a true and tender heart--
But let me not behold them; they unman me
Here when I had remanned myself. My brother,
Lead her away.

_Zar. _ Oh, God! I never shall
Behold him more!

_Sal. _ (_striving to conduct her_).
Nay, sister, I _must_ be obeyed.

_Zar. _ I must remain--away! you shall not hold me.
What, shall he die alone? --_I_ live alone?

_Sal. _ He shall _not die alone_; but lonely you
Have lived for years.

_Zar. _ That's false! I knew _he_ lived,
And lived upon his image--let me go! 410

_Sal. _ (_conducting her off the stage_).
Nay, then, I must use some fraternal force,
Which you will pardon.

_Zar. _ Never. Help me! Oh!
Sardanapalus, wilt thou thus behold me
Torn from thee?

_Sal. _ Nay--then all is lost again,
If that this moment is not gained.

_Zar. _ My brain turns--
My eyes fail--where is he? [_She faints_.

_Sar. _ (_advancing_). No--set her down;
She's dead--and you have slain her.

_Sal. _ 'Tis the mere
Faintness of o'erwrought passion: in the air
She will recover. Pray, keep back. --[_Aside_. ] I must
Avail myself of this sole moment to 420
Bear her to where her children are embarked,
I' the royal galley on the river.
[SALEMENES _bears her off_.

_Sar. _ (_solus_). This, too--
And this too must I suffer--I, who never
Inflicted purposely on human hearts
A voluntary pang! But that is false--
She loved me, and I loved her. --Fatal passion!
Why dost thou not expire at _once_ in hearts
Which thou hast lighted up at once? Zarina! [ah]
I must pay dearly for the desolation
Now brought upon thee. Had I never loved 430
But thee, I should have been an unopposed
Monarch of honouring nations. To what gulfs
A single deviation from the track
Of human duties leads even those who claim
The homage of mankind as their born due,
And find it, till they forfeit it themselves!

_Enter_ MYRRHA.

_Sar. _ _You_ here! Who called you?

_Myr. _ No one--but I heard
Far off a voice of wail and lamentation,
And thought----

_Sar. _ It forms no portion of your duties
To enter here till sought for.

_Myr. _ Though I might, 440
Perhaps, recall some softer words of yours
(Although they _too were chiding_), which reproved me,
Because I ever dreaded to intrude;
Resisting my own wish and your injunction
To heed no time nor presence, but approach you
Uncalled for:--I retire.

_Sar. _ Yet stay--being here.
I pray you pardon me: events have soured me
Till I wax peevish--heed it not: I shall
Soon be myself again.

_Myr. _ I wait with patience,
What I shall see with pleasure.

_Sar. _ Scarce a moment 450
Before your entrance in this hall, Zarina,
Queen of Assyria, departed hence.

_Myr. _ Ah!

_Sar. _ Wherefore do you start?

_Myr. _ Did I do so?

_Sar. _ 'Twas well you entered by another portal,
Else you had met. That pang at least is spared her!

_Myr. _ I know to feel for her.

_Sar. _ That is too much,
And beyond nature--'tis nor mutual[ai]
Nor possible. You cannot pity her,
Nor she aught but----

_Myr. _ Despise the favourite slave?
Not more than I have ever scorned myself. 460

_Sar. _ Scorned! what, to be the envy of your sex,
And lord it o'er the heart of the World's lord?

_Myr. _ Were you the lord of twice ten thousand worlds--
As you are like to lose the one you swayed--
I did abase myself as much in being
Your paramour, as though you were a peasant--
Nay, more, if that the peasant were a Greek.

_Sar. _ You talk it well----

_Myr. _ And truly.

_Sar. _ In the hour
Of man's adversity all things grow daring
Against the falling; but as I am not 470
Quite fall'n, nor now disposed to bear reproaches,
Perhaps because I merit them too often,
Let us then part while peace is still between us.

_Myr. _ Part!

_Sar. _ Have not all past human beings parted,
And must not all the present one day part?