The Works of Lord Byron Volume V Part 23

_Myr._ (_at a window_)[28]

The day at last has broken. What a night Hath ushered it! How beautiful in heaven!

Though varied with a transitory storm, More beautiful in that variety!

How hideous upon earth! where Peace and Hope, And Love and Revel, in an hour were trampled By human pa.s.sions to a human chaos, Not yet resolved to separate elements-- 'Tis warring still! And can the sun so rise, So bright, so rolling back the clouds into 10 Vapours more lovely than the unclouded sky, With golden pinnacles, and snowy mountains, And billows purpler than the Ocean's, making In heaven a glorious mockery of the earth, So like we almost deem it permanent; So fleeting, we can scarcely call it aught Beyond a vision, 'tis so transiently Scattered along the eternal vault: and yet It dwells upon the soul, and soothes the soul, And blends itself into the soul, until 20 Sunrise and sunset form the haunted epoch Of Sorrow and of Love; which they who mark not, Know not the realms where those twin genii[al]

(Who chasten and who purify our hearts, So that we would not change their sweet rebukes For all the boisterous joys that ever shook The air with clamour) build the palaces Where their fond votaries repose and breathe Briefly;--but in that brief cool calm inhale Enough of heaven to enable them to bear 30 The rest of common, heavy, human hours, And dream them through in placid sufferance, Though seemingly employed like all the rest Of toiling breathers in allotted tasks[am]

Of pain or pleasure, _two_ names for _one_ feeling, Which our internal, restless agony Would vary in the sound, although the sense Escapes our highest efforts to be happy.

_Bal._ You muse right calmly: and can you so watch The sunrise which may be our last?

_Myr._ It is 40 Therefore that I so watch it, and reproach Those eyes, which never may behold it more, For having looked upon it oft, too oft, Without the reverence and the rapture due To that which keeps all earth from being as fragile As I am in this form. Come, look upon it, The Chaldee's G.o.d, which, when I gaze upon, I grow almost a convert to your Baal.

_Bal._ As now he reigns in heaven, so once on earth He swayed.

_Myr._ He sways it now far more, then; never 50 Had earthly monarch half the power and glory Which centres in a single ray of his.

_Bal._ Surely he is a G.o.d!

_Myr._ So we Greeks deem too; And yet I sometimes think that gorgeous...o...b..Must rather be the abode of G.o.ds than one Of the immortal sovereigns. Now he breaks Through all the clouds, and fills my eyes with light That shuts the world out. I can look no more.

_Bal._ Hark! heard you not a sound?

_Myr._ No, 'twas mere fancy; They battle it beyond the wall, and not 60 As in late midnight conflict in the very Chambers: the palace has become a fortress Since that insidious hour; and here, within The very centre, girded by vast courts And regal halls of pyramid proportions, Which must be carried one by one before They penetrate to where they then arrived, We are as much shut in even from the sound Of peril as from glory.

_Bal._ But they reached Thus far before.

_Myr._ Yes, by surprise, and were 70 Beat back by valour: now at once we have Courage and vigilance to guard us.

_Bal._ May they Prosper!

_Myr._ That is the prayer of many, and The dread of more: it is an anxious hour; I strive to keep it from my thoughts. Alas!

How vainly!

_Bal._ It is said the King's demeanour In the late action scarcely more appalled The rebels than astonished his true subjects.

_Myr._ 'Tis easy to astonish or appal The vulgar ma.s.s which moulds a horde of slaves; 80 But he did bravely.

_Bal._ Slew he not Beleses?

I heard the soldiers say he struck him down.

_Myr._ The wretch was overthrown, but rescued to Triumph, perhaps, o'er one who vanquished him In fight, as he had spared him in his peril; And by that heedless pity risked a crown.

_Bal._ Hark!

_Myr._ You are right; some steps approach, but slowly.

_Enter Soldiers, bearing in_ SALEMENES _wounded, with a broken javelin in his side: they seat him upon one of the couches which furnish the Apartment_.

_Myr._ Oh, Jove!

_Bal._ Then all is over.

_Sal._ That is false.

Hew down the slave who says so, if a soldier.

_Myr._ Spare him--he's none: a mere court b.u.t.terfly, 90 That flutter in the pageant of a monarch.

_Sal._ Let him live on, then.

_Myr._ So wilt thou, I trust.

_Sal._ I fain would live this hour out, and the event, But doubt it. Wherefore did ye bear me here?

_Sol._ By the King's order. When the javelin struck you, You fell and fainted: 'twas his strict command To bear you to this hall.

_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.