_
Dubiously
and fiercely.
Byron
Oh, mighty Jove!
Forgive this monstrous love for a barbarian,
Who knows not of Olympus! yes, I love him
Now--now--far more than----Hark--to the war shout!
Methinks it nears me. If it should be so,
[_She draws forth a small vial_.
This cunning Colchian poison, which my father
Learned to compound on Euxine shores, and taught me
How to preserve, shall free me! It had freed me
Long ere this hour, but that I loved until 190
I half forgot I was a slave:--where all
Are slaves save One, and proud of servitude,
So they are served in turn by something lower
In the degree of bondage: we forget
That shackles worn like ornaments no less
Are chains. Again that shout! and now the clash
Of arms--and now--and now----
_Enter_ ALTADA.
_Alt. _ Ho, Sfero, ho!
_Myr. _ He is not here; what wouldst thou with him? How
Goes on the conflict?
_Alt.
_ Dubiously and fiercely.
_Myr. _ And the King?
_Alt. _ Like a king. I must find Sfero, 200
And bring him a new spear with his own helmet. [w]
He fights till now bare-headed, and by far
Too much exposed. The soldiers knew his face,
And the foe too; and in the moon's broad light,
His silk tiara and his flowing hair
Make him a mark too royal. Every arrow
Is pointed at the fair hair and fair features,
And the broad fillet which crowns both.
_Myr. _ Ye Gods,
Who fulminate o'er my father's land, protect him!
Were you sent by the King?
_Alt. _ By Salemenes, 210
Who sent me privily upon this charge,
Without the knowledge of the careless sovereign.
The King! the King fights as he revels!
Forgive this monstrous love for a barbarian,
Who knows not of Olympus! yes, I love him
Now--now--far more than----Hark--to the war shout!
Methinks it nears me. If it should be so,
[_She draws forth a small vial_.
This cunning Colchian poison, which my father
Learned to compound on Euxine shores, and taught me
How to preserve, shall free me! It had freed me
Long ere this hour, but that I loved until 190
I half forgot I was a slave:--where all
Are slaves save One, and proud of servitude,
So they are served in turn by something lower
In the degree of bondage: we forget
That shackles worn like ornaments no less
Are chains. Again that shout! and now the clash
Of arms--and now--and now----
_Enter_ ALTADA.
_Alt. _ Ho, Sfero, ho!
_Myr. _ He is not here; what wouldst thou with him? How
Goes on the conflict?
_Alt.
_ Dubiously and fiercely.
_Myr. _ And the King?
_Alt. _ Like a king. I must find Sfero, 200
And bring him a new spear with his own helmet. [w]
He fights till now bare-headed, and by far
Too much exposed. The soldiers knew his face,
And the foe too; and in the moon's broad light,
His silk tiara and his flowing hair
Make him a mark too royal. Every arrow
Is pointed at the fair hair and fair features,
And the broad fillet which crowns both.
_Myr. _ Ye Gods,
Who fulminate o'er my father's land, protect him!
Were you sent by the King?
_Alt. _ By Salemenes, 210
Who sent me privily upon this charge,
Without the knowledge of the careless sovereign.
The King! the King fights as he revels!
