Aha! thou waverest now and turnest pale.

What! those bold roses flee thy cheeks at length? And red rebellion hangeth flags of truce

On thy defiant lips?

SALOME.

Spare him! Alas!

HERODIAS.

Finish the writing, sign, and he is safe.
Refuse and, by the immortal gods I swear,
He dieth.

SALOME.

Alas!

HERODIAS.

Ay, weep. Ay, wring thy hands.

When tears thou wring'st from them I will relent.

I cannot see him die.

SALOME.

HERODIAS.

Haste, haste and write.

This lamp, shown to the angry rising wind
From that near window, will not out so quick

As shall his flickering life.

SALOME.

Have pity.

HERODIAS.

Write.

Three steps will bring me to the window.
Or in one moment it will be too late.

SALOME.

Will naught avail me?

HERODIAS.

Write,

Write.

SALOME.

The gods forgive.

I know not what to do, nor what I do.

HERODIAS.

Nay, write it plainly.

SALOME.

Ah!

HERODIAS.

What aileth thee?

SALOME.

Ah!

HERODIAS.

What seest thou? Turn thy glassy eye-speak; speak!

SALOME.

As I inscribed his name a cold bright flame

Followed my hand!

HERODIAS.

Thou art mad! Finish and seal.

SALOME.

My arm refuseth its accustomed work.
My hand cannot put seal and signature;
There is no sense in it-I cannot see.

HERODIAS.

Then will I guide it, sign and seal for thee.
Ay, sink unconscious; thou canst bend at length.
I will so leave thee while I use thy strength.

IV.

A MOUNTAIN OVERLOOKING JERUSALEM.
ANTONIUS. AN AGED JEW.

ANTONIUS.

No constancy save of inconstancy

And the persistent, damnèd, strenuous sprite
The in-haunting mocker, mocking memory.
Why, slumber even, which used to drudge all night
Fitting new soles to the worn sandal life,
Hath now become unstable in her moods
As ever a woman, widow, wife, or maid,
And will naught do for me but by caprice;
And then she taketh stitches two or three
To keep together soul and body, patch
Worn expectation, strengthen misery,
As smiling women deftly darn and knot
Hopes which are breaking, so that they may pull
Them more entirely from the tortured heart.
The solemn hour is nigh when eve and morn,
Progenitors of night, shall separate.-

Old man, what dost thou here? Eh? Fearest thou not
The imminent storm? Full-armed clouds toss and pitch
As ghostly triremes on an ebon sea;

The struggling winds like drowning navies cry.
The elements of nature enfevered are,

In most delirious and ill-omened state.

AGED JEW.

Languish thy children in chains, thou at ease in the arms of the spoiler !

Strangers have gone to thy bed, and the heathen from far have defiled thee;

Daughters have witnessed thy shame, and thy sons, they

Rend thy fair garment and wail, yea, howl for the shame that is on thee.

Where be thy men trained for war? Where, where be

thy chariots and horses?

Where be thy reverend feasts and the chanting tribes that come to them?

Where be thy prophets who ruled, and thy psalmists expert in sweet music?

Where be thy princes enthroned, anointed and crowned by thy prophets?

Herbage far rolling like seas groweth red in the blood of thine armies,

Under incarnadine waves lie vanquished their mouldering

corpses.

Neigh of thy horses is heard as they look from the land of the stranger,

Longing with pain for their vales and the hands that once fed and caressed them.

Groans of thy chariots sound; they are dragging unwilling against thee