Ethereal life, will ye explore? These darken'd clouds are not the only skies. [AZAZIEL and SAMIASA fly off, and disappear with ANAH and AHOLIBAMAH. They have disappear'd amidst the roar Faph. They are gone! Of the forsaken world; and never more, Chorus of MORTALS. Oh, son of Noah! mercy on thy kind! While safe amidst the elemental strife, A mother offering her infant to JAPHET]. Oh, let this child embark! I brought him forth in woe, To see him to my bosom clinging so. What hath he done My unwean'd son To move Jehovah's wrath or scorn? What is there in this milk of mine, that Death And roll the waters o'er his placid breath? Or cursed be-with Him who made Thee and thy race, for which we are betray'd! Japh. Peace! 'tis no hour for curses, but for prayer! Before the implacable Omnipotent, Since we must fall the same? If He hath made earth, let it be His shame To make a world for torture.-Lo! they come, The loathsome waters, in their rage! And with their roar make wholesome Nature dumb! The forest trees (coeval with the hour When Paradise upsprung, Ere Eve gave Adam knowledge for her dower, Or Adam his first hymn of slavery sung), So massy, vast, yet green in their old age, Are overtopp'd, Their summer blossoms by the surges lopp'd, Which rise, and rise, and rise. Vainly we look up to the lowering skies Time-space-eternity-life-death The vast known and immeasurable unknown. And shall I, for a little gasp of breath, He made, and can unmake; Blaspheme and groan? No; let me die, as I have lived, in faith, Nor quiver, though the universe may quake. Not to the mountains high; For now their torrents rush, with double roar, To meet the ocean, which, advancing still, Already grasps each drowning hill, Nor leaves an unsearch'd cave. Enter a WOMAN. Woman. Oh, save me, save! Our valley is no more: My father and my father's tent, My brethren and my brethren's herds, The pleasant trees that o'er our noonday bent, And sent forth evening songs from sweetest birds, The little rivulet which freshen'd all Our pastures green, No more are to be seen. When to the mountain cliff I climb'd this morn, I turn'd to bless the spot, And not a leaf appear'd about to fall;- To die! in youth to die! Am thus condemn'd to weep above in vain. THE ILLUSTRIOUS GOETHE A STRANGER PRESUMES TO OFFER THE HOMAGE OF A LITERARY VASSAL TO HIS LIEGE LORD, THE FIRST OF EXISTING WRITERS, AND ILLUSTRATED THAT OF EUROPE. THE UNWORTHY PRODUCTION WHICH THE AUTHOR VENTURES TO INSCRIBE TO HIM IS ENTITLED, SARDANAPALUS. IN publishing the following Tragedies* I have only to repeat, that they were not composed with the most remote view to the stage. On the attempt made by the managers in a former instance, the public opinion has been already expressed. With regard to my own private feelings, as it seems that they are to stand for nothing, I shall say nothing. For the historical foundation of the following compositions the reader is referred to the Notes. The Author has in one instance attempted to preserve, and in the other to approach, the "unities;" conceiving that with any very distant departure from them, there may be poetry, but can be no drama. He is aware of the unpopularity of this notion in present English literature; but it is not a system of his own, being merely an opinion, which, not very long ago, was the law of literature throughout the world, and is still so in the more civilized parts of it. But nous avons changé tout cela, and are reaping the advantages of the change. The writer is far from conceiving that anything he can adduce by personal precept or example can at all approach his regular, or even irregular, predecessors: he is merely giving a reason why he preferred the more regular formation of a structure, however feeble, to an entire abandonment of all rules whatsoever. Where he has failed, the failure is in the architect,-and not in the art. SCENE. A Hall in the Royal Palace of Nineveh. In this tragedy it has been my intention to follow the account of Diodorus Siculus: reducing it, however, to such dramatic regularity as I best could, and trying to approach the unities. therefore suppose the rebellion to explode and succeed in one day by a sudden conspiracy, instead of the long war of the history. Has not all quench'd, and latent energies, Repress'd by circumstance, but not destroy'dSteep'd, but not drown'd, in deep voluptuous ness. If born a peasant, he had been a man To have reach'd an empire: to an empire born, Health like the chase, nor glory like the war- Jute, The lyre, the timbrel; the lascivious tinklings And tell him what all good men tell each other, Speaking of him and his. They come, the slaves Led by the monarch subject to his slaves. SCENE II.-Enter SARDANAPALUS, effeminately dressed, his Head crowned with Flowers, and his Robe negligently flowing, attended by a Train of Women and young Slaves. Sar. Let the pavilion over the Euphrates [Speaking to some of his attendants. Be garlanded, and lit, and furnish'd forth For an especial banquet; at the hour Of midnight we will sup there: see nought wanting, And bid the galley be prepared. There is We will embark anon. Fair nymphs, who deign * "The Ionian name had been still more comprehensive, having included the Achaians and the Boeotians, who, together with those to whom it was afterwards confined, would make My lord 255 Myr. so coldly? It is the curse of kings to be so answer'd. Accompany our guests, or charm away Myr. The king's choice is mine. Sar. I pray thee say not so: my chiefest joy Is to contribute to thine every wish. I do not dare to breathe my own desire, 'Lest it should clash with thine; for thou art still Too prompt to sacrifice thy thoughts for others. Myr. I would remain: I have no happiness Save in beholding thine; yet Sar. Yet! what YET? Thy own sweet will shall be the only barrier Which ever rises betwixt thee and me. Myr. I think the present is the wonted hour Of council; it were better I retire. Sal. [comes forward and says] The Ionian slave says well: let her retire. Sar. Who answers? how now, brother? Sal. The queen's brother, And your most faithful vassal, royal lord. Sar. [addressing his train]. As I have said, let all dispose their hours Till midnight, when again we pray your pre[The court retiring. [To MYRRHA, who is going]. Myrrha! I thought thou wouldst remain. sence. Myr. Thou didst not say so. Sar. Great king, But thou lookedst it: I know each glance of those Ionic eyes, Not blush! Thy gentle spirit, go; but recollect That we must forthwith meet: I had rather lose Thou wilt lose both, and both for ever! Brother! I can at least command myself, who listen Sal. "Tis beyond That easy, far too easy idle nature, In mine a man who might be something still. Have they not peace and plenty? Whose then is the crime, Which I would urge thee. O that I could Beyond his palace walls, or if he stirs rouse thee! Though 'twere against myself. Sar. Beyond them 'tis but to some mountain palace, The man would make me tyrant. Of sensual sloth-produce ten thousand tyrants, Sal. Forgiveness of the queen's, my sister's For what? to furnish imposts for a revel, Sar. I understand thee-thou wouldst have me go Forth as a conqueror. By all the stars Wherefore not? And lead them forth to glory. Sar. 'Tis most true. And how return'd? Good her retreat to Bactria. Sar. Then I will say for themThat she had better woven within her palace Some twenty garments, than with twenty guards Have fled to Bactria, leaving to the ravens, And wolves, and men-the fiercer of the three, Her myriads of fond subjects. Is this glory? Then let me live in ignominy ever. Sal. All warlike spirits have not the same fate. A hundred kings, although she fail'd in India, The landmarks of the seas of gore he shed, And him as a true man, who did his utmost That thou shouldst rail, or they rise up against me? Sal. Of what thou hast done to me, I speak not. Sar. But Thou think'st that I have wrong'd the queen : is't not so? Sal. Think! Thou hast wrong'd her! Sar. Patience, prince, and hear me. She has all power and splendour of her station, Respect, the tutelage of Assyria's heirs, The homage and the appanage of sovereignty. I married her as monarchs wed-for state, And loved her as most husbands love their wives. If she or thou supposedst I could link me Ye knew nor me, nor monarchs, nor mankind. Sal. I pray thee, change the theme: my blood disdains Complaint, and Salemenes' sister seeks not Sar. To dry into the desert's dust by myriads, Sal. And lavish'd treasures, and contemn'd virtues. My martial grandam, chaste Semiramis, Sal. 'Tis most true; |