Thou whom he spurned so harshly, and now dared[g]
Drive from our presence with his savage jeers,
And made thee weep and blush?
Drive from our presence with his savage jeers,
And made thee weep and blush?
Byron
_ I have proved a thousand--A
thousand, and a thousand.
_Myr. _ Hearts?
_Sar. _ I think so.
_Myr. _ Not one! the time may come thou may'st.
_Sar. _ It will.
Hear, Myrrha; Salemenes has declared-- 460
Or why or how he hath divined it, Belus,
Who founded our great realm, knows more than I--
But Salemenes hath declared my throne
In peril.
_Myr. _ He did well.
_Sar. _ And say'st _thou_ so?
Thou whom he spurned so harshly, and now dared[g]
Drive from our presence with his savage jeers,
And made thee weep and blush?
_Myr. _ I should do both
More frequently, and he did well to call me
Back to my duty. But thou spakest of peril
Peril to thee----
_Sar. _ Aye, from dark plots and snares 470
From Medes--and discontented troops and nations.
I know not what--a labyrinth of things--
A maze of muttered threats and mysteries:
Thou know'st the man--it is his usual custom.
But he is honest. Come, we'll think no more on't--
But of the midnight festival.
_Myr. _ 'Tis time
To think of aught save festivals. Thou hast not
Spurned his sage cautions?
_Sar. _ What? --and dost thou fear?
_Myr. _ Fear!
thousand, and a thousand.
_Myr. _ Hearts?
_Sar. _ I think so.
_Myr. _ Not one! the time may come thou may'st.
_Sar. _ It will.
Hear, Myrrha; Salemenes has declared-- 460
Or why or how he hath divined it, Belus,
Who founded our great realm, knows more than I--
But Salemenes hath declared my throne
In peril.
_Myr. _ He did well.
_Sar. _ And say'st _thou_ so?
Thou whom he spurned so harshly, and now dared[g]
Drive from our presence with his savage jeers,
And made thee weep and blush?
_Myr. _ I should do both
More frequently, and he did well to call me
Back to my duty. But thou spakest of peril
Peril to thee----
_Sar. _ Aye, from dark plots and snares 470
From Medes--and discontented troops and nations.
I know not what--a labyrinth of things--
A maze of muttered threats and mysteries:
Thou know'st the man--it is his usual custom.
But he is honest. Come, we'll think no more on't--
But of the midnight festival.
_Myr. _ 'Tis time
To think of aught save festivals. Thou hast not
Spurned his sage cautions?
_Sar. _ What? --and dost thou fear?
_Myr. _ Fear!