SARDANAPALUS discovered sleeping upon a Couch, and occasionally disturbed in his Slumbers, with MYRRHA watching.

Myr. (sola, gazing). I have stolen upon his rest, if rest it be,

Which thus convulses slumber: shall I wake him?
No, he seems calmer. Oh, thou God of Quiet!
Whose reign is o'er seal'd eyelids and soft dreams,
Or deep, deep sleep, so as to be unfathom'd,
Look like thy brother, Death-so still-so stirless -
For then we are happiest, as it may be, we
Are happiest of all within the realm
Of thy stern, silent, and unwakening twin.
Again he moves— —again the play of pain
Shoots o'er his features, as the sudden gust
Crisps the reluctant lake that lay so calm 1
Beneath the mountain shadow; or the blast
Ruffles the autumn leaves, that drooping cling
Faintly and motionless to their loved boughs.
I must awake him-yet not yet: who knows
From what I rouse him? It seems pain; but if
I quicken him to heavier pain? The fever
Of this tumultuous night, the grief too of

His wound, though slight, may cause all this, and shake
Me more to see than him to suffer.

No:

Let Nature use her own maternal means,-
And I await to second, not disturb her. 2
Sar. (awakening). Not so-although ye multiplied
the stars,

And gave them to me as a realm to share

1 ["Crisps the unswelling wave," &c. — MS.]

[The fourth Act opens with Myrrha watching over the slumbers of Sardanapalus. He wakens and tells a horrid dream, which we do not much admire, except that part of it which describes the form of his warlike ancestress Semiramis, with whom, and the rest of his regal predecessors, he had fancied himself at a ghostly banquet. - HEBER.]

[The general tone of Myrrha's character (in perfect consistency with the manners of her age and nation, and with her own elevated but pure and feminine spirit,) is that of a devout worshipper of her country's gods. She reproves, with dignity, the impious flattery of the Assyrian courtiers and the libertine scoffs of the king. She does not forget, while preparing for death, that libation which was the latest and most solemn act of Grecian piety; and she, more particularly, expresses her belief in a future state of existence. Yet this very Myrrha, when Sardanapalus is agitated by his evil dream, and by the natural doubt as to what worse visions death may bring, is made to console him, in the strain of his own Epicurean philosophy, with the doctrine that death is really nothing, except

"Unto the timid who anticipate
That which may never be;"

and with the insinuation that all which remains of " the dead is the dust we tread upon." We do not wish to ask, we do not

Is no false phantom: I should know it 'midst
All that the dead dare gloomily raise up

From their black gulf to daunt the living. Myrrha !
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,
And thou art lord of this. Be of good cheer;
All will go well.
Sar.

Thy hand-so- 't is thy hand; 'Tis flesh; grasp—clasp — yet closer, till I feel Myself that which I was.

Myr.

For what I am, and ever

Sur. I know it now,

Oh, Myrrha ! if

Sar.
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, 't will 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,
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.

like to conjecture, whose sentiments these are, but they are certainly not the sentiments of an ancient Grecian heroine. They are not the sentiments which Myrrha might have learned from the heroes of her native land, or from the poems whence those heroes derived their heroism, their contempt of death, " and their love of virtue." Myrrha would rather have told her lover of those happy islands where the benevolent and the brave reposed after the toils of their mortal existence; of that venerable society of departed warriors and sages, to which, if he renounced his sloth and lived for his people and for glory, he might yet expect admission. She would have told him of that joy with which his warlike ancestors would move along their meads of asphodel, when the news reached them of their descendant's prowess; she would have anticipated those songs which denied that " Harmodius was dead," however he might be removed from the sphere of mortality; which told her countrymen of the "roses and the goldenfruited bowers, where, beneath the light of a lower sun, departed warriors reined their shadowy cars, or struck their harps amid altars steaming with frankincense."-(Hom. Odyss. à. 539. Callistratus ap. Athenæum, 1. xv. Pindar. Fragm. Heyne, vol. iii. p. 31.) Such were the doctrines which naturally led men to a contempt for life and a thirst for glory: but the opposite opinions were the doubts of a later day; and of those sophists under whose influence Greece soon ceased to be free, or valiant, or virtuous.

HEBER.]

The hope to find at last one which I knew
Ere I saw theirs but no- all turn'd upon me,
And stared, but neither ate nor drank, but stared,
Till I grew stone, as they seem'd 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

Or full reality.

Sar.

And this look'd real,

I tell you after that these eyes were open,

I saw them in their flight-for then they fled.
Myr. Say on.
Sur.
I saw, that is, I dream'd myself
Here here. -even where we are, guests as we were,
Myself a host that deem'd himself but guest,
Willing to equal all in social freedom;
But, on my right hand and my left, instead
Of thee and Zames, and our custom'd 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 curl'd down
On his vast bust, whence a huge quiver rose
With shaft-heads feather'd from the eagle's wing,1
That peep'd up bristling through his serpent hair.
I invited him to fill the cup which stood
Between us, but he answer'd not-I fill'd it
He took it not, but stared upon me, till
I trembled at the fix'd glare of his eye:
I frown'd upon him as a king should frown
He frown'd not in his turn, but look'd upon me
With the same aspect, which appall'd me more,
Because it changed not: and I turn'd for refuge
To milder guests, and sought them on the right,
Where thou wert wont to be. But

Myr.

[He pauses. What instead?

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 crown'd figures on cach 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,
And at the last I fear'd them not, but laugh'd
Full in their phantom faces. But then- - then
The hunter laid his hand on mine: I took it,
And grasp'd it—but it melted from my own;
While he too vanish'd, and left nothing but
The memory of a hero, for he look'd so.
Myr. And was the ancestor of heroes, too,
And thine no less.
Sar.

Ay, Myrrha, but the woman,
The female who remain'd, she flew upon me,
And burnt my lips up with her noisome kisses;
And, flinging down the goblets on each hand,
Methought their poisons flow'd around us, til!
Each form'd 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.
Then then-a chaos of all loathsome things
Throng'd thick and shapeless: I was dead, yet
feeling

Buried, and raised again- consumed by worms,
Purged by the flames, and wither'd in the air!
I can fix nothing further of my thoughts,
Save that I long'd 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 to toil, yet over-wrought by toil

Such as might try the sternest.

Sar.

I am better. Now that I see thee once more, what was scen Seems nothing.

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,
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 't was her wish-she is my sister-you
Her husband- will you grant it?

Sal.

Re-enter SALEMENES and ZARINA. 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 pass'd, Though we are still so young, since we have met, Which I have worn in widowhoou of heart. He loved me not: yet he seems little changed. Changed to me only-would the change were mutual!

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 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

in opposition not only to the uniform tradition of the East, but to the express assertions of Herodotus, Pliny, and Ptolemy. HEDER.]

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.

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? A slave, who loves from passion-I'll not say Ambition-she has seen thrones shake, and loves; A few friends who have revell'd till we are

As one, for they are nothing if I fall;

A brother I have injured — children whom

Sur. 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, wrong'd Zarina !!

I am the very slave of circumstance
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 form'd
To prize a love like thinc, 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 look'd like a chain for me or others
(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
The sullen earth.

Zur.
Oh! if thou hast at length
Discover'd 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 bless'd
Than I have ever been, or thou, with all
An empire to indulge thee.

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.

Sar.

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

Hear me, sister, like My sister: -all's prepared to make your safety Certain, and of the boys too, our last hopes; 'Tis not a single question of mere feeling, Though that were much-but 'tis a point of state:

was neither accounted a crime in itself, nor as a measure of which the principal wife was justified in complaining. and even in Greece, in those times when Myrrha's character must have been formed, to be a captive, and subject to the captor's pleasure, was accounted a misfortune indeed, but could hardly be regarded as an infamy. But where is the critic who would object to an inaccuracy which has given occasion to such sentiments and such poetry? HEBER]

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 miss'd 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
Your children, with two parents and yet orphans -
In a strange land—so young, so distant?
Zar.

My heart will break.

Sal.

No

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.

Sar. Go, then. If e'er we meet again, perhaps 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 tearsI do not bid thee not to shed them- 't were Easier to stop Euphrates at its source Than one tear of a true and tender heartBut let me not behold them; they unman me Here when I had re-mann'd myself. My brother, Lead her away.

[This scene has been, by the Edinburgh Reviewers, we know not why, called "useless,"" unnatural," and " tediously written." For ourselves, we are not ashamed to own that we have read it with emotion. It is an interview between Sardanapalus and his neglected wife, whom, with her children, he is about to send to a place of safety. Here, too, however, he is represented, with much poetical art and justice of delineation, as, in the midst of his deepest regrets for

-

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 !
I must pay dearly for the desolation
Now brought upon thee. Had I never loved
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!

Yet stay-being here. pray you pardon me: events have sour'd 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

Before your entrance in this hall, Zarina, Queen of Assyria, departed hence.

Myr. Ah!

Sar.

Myr.

Wherefore do you start?

Did I do so?

Sar. 'Twas well you enter'd 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,2 Nor possible. You cannot pity her,

Nor she aught but

Myr.

Despise the favourite slave?

Not more than I have ever scorn'd myself.

Sar. Scorn'd! 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 sway'd-
I did abase myself as much in being

Zarina, chiefly engrossed with himself and his own sorrows, and inclined, immediately afterwards, to visit on poor Myrrha the painful feelings which his own reproaches of himself have occasioned. HEBER.]

2 [For mutual, the MS. in our hands has natural; but we are not quite sure that there has been merely a misprint in the foregoing editions.]