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The same.
Antiochus, Eunice, Rodogune.
ANTIOCHUS
,
I put my hand on Antioch. Thou hast done well,
O admirable quick Theramenes.
This fight was lionlike.
EUNICE
And like the lion
Thou art, my warrior, thou canst now descend
Upon Seleucus’ city. How new ’twill seem
After the mountains and the starlit skies
To sleep once more in Antioch!
RODOGUNE
I trust the stars
And mountains better. They were kind to me.
My blood within me chills when I look forward
And think of Antioch.
ANTIOCHUS
These are the shadows from a clouded past
Which shall not be repeated, Rodogune.
This is not Antioch that thou knew’st, the prison
Of thy captivity, thou enterest now,
Not Antioch of thy foes, but a new city
And thy own kingdom.
RODOGUNE
Are the gods so good ?
ANTIOCHUS
The gods are strong; they love to test our strength
Like armourers hammering steel. Therefore ’twas said
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That they are jealous. No, but high and stern
Demanding greatness from the great; they strike
At every fault they see, perfect themselves
Labour at our perfection. What rumour increases
Approaching from the mountains ? Thoas, thou ?
Thoas enters.
Thy brow is dark. Is it Theramenes ?
Returns our fortune broken ?
THOAS
Broken and fallen.
We who are left bring back Theramenes
Upon whose body twenty glorious wounds
Smile at defeat.
ANTIOCHUS
Theramenes before me!
How have you kept me lying in my tents!
I thought our road was clear of foemen.
THOAS
The gods
Had other resources that we knew not of.
Within the passes, on the summit couch
The spears of Macedon. They have arrived
From the sea, from Antioch.
ANTIOCHUS
The Macedonians! Then
Our day is ended; we must think of night.
We reach our limit, Thoas.
THOAS
That’s if we choose;
For there are other tidings.
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ANTIOCHUS
They should be welcome.
THOAS
Phraates, thy imperial father, comes
With myriad hosts behind him thunder-hooved,
Not for invasion armed as Syria’s foe,
But for the husband of his Rodogune.
Shall we recoil upon these helpers ? Death
Can always wait.
ANTIOCHUS
Perhaps. Leave me awhile,
Thoas; for we must sit alone tonight,
My soul and I together; Rodogune,
Thoas goes.
Wouldst thou go back to Parthia, to thy country?
RODOGUNE
I have no country, I have only thee.
I shall be where thou art; it is all I know
And all I wish for.
ANTIOCHUS
Eunice, wilt thou go
To Antioch safe ? My mother loves thee well.
EUNICE
I follow her and thee. What talk is this ?
I shall grow angry.
ANTIOCHUS
Am I other, Eunice,
Than once I was ? Is there a change in me
Since first I came into your lives from Egypt?
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EUNICE
You are my god, my warrior and the same
You ever were.
ANTIOCHUS
To her and thee I am.
Sleep well, my Rodogune, for thou and I
Not sure of Fate, are of each other sure.
To thee what else can matter ?
RODOGUNE
Nothing else.
Rodogune and Eunice enter the
interior of the tent.
ANTIOCHUS
A god! Yes, I have godlike stirrings in me.
Shall they be bounded by this petty world
The sea can span ? If Rome, Greece, Africa,
Asia and all the undiscovered globe
Were given me for my garden, all glory mine,
All men my friends, all women’s hearts my own,
Would there not still be bounds, still continents
Unvanquished ? O thou glorious Macedonian,
Thou too must seek at last more worlds to conquer.
Hast thou discovered them ?
This earth is but a hillock when all’s said,
The sea an azure puddle. All tonight
Seems strange to me; my wars, ambition, fate
And what I am and what I might have been,
Float round me vaguely and withdraw from me
Like grandiose phantoms in a mist. Who am I ?
Whence come I? Whither go, or wherefore now?
Who gave me these gigantic appetites
That make a banquet of the world ? Who set
These narrow, scornful and exiguous bounds
To my achievement ? O, to die, to pass,
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Nothing achieved but this, "He tried great things,
Accomplished small ones." If this life alone
Be given us to fail or to succeed,
Then ’tis worth keeping.
The Parthian treads our land!
Phraates’ hooves dig Grecian soil once more!
The subtle Parthian! He has smiled and waited
Till we were weak with mutual wounds and now
Stretches his foot towards Syria. Have I then
Achieved this only, my country’s servitude?
Shall that be said of me? It galls, it stabs.
My fame! "Destroyer of Syria, he ended
The great Seleucus’ work." Whatever else
O’ertake me, in this the strong gods shall not win.
I will give up my body and sword to Timocles,
Repel the Parthian, save from this new death,
These dangerous allies from Macedon,
Syria, then die.
But wherefore die ? Should I not rather go
With my sole sword into the changeful world,
Create an empire, not inherit one ?
Are there not other realms ? has not the East
Great spaces ? In huge torrid Africa
Beyond the mystic sources of the Nile
There must be empires. Or if with a ship
One sailed for ever through the infinite West,
Through Ocean and still Ocean for three years,
Might not one find the old Atlantic realms
No fable ? Thy narrow lovely littoral,
O blue Mediterranean, India, Parthia,
Is this the world ? I thirst for mightier things
Than earth has. But for what I dreamed, to bound
Upon Nicanor through the deep-bellied passes
Or fall upon the Macedonian spears,
It were glorious, yet a glorious cowardice,
Too like self-slaughter. Is it not more heroic
To battle with than to accept calamity?
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Unless indeed all thinking-out is vain
And Fate our only mover. Seek it out, my soul,
And make no error here; for on this hour
The future of the man Antiochus,
What future he may have upon the earth
In name or body lies. Reveal it to me, Zeus!
In Antioch or upon the Grecian spears,
Where lies my fate ?
While he is speaking, the Eremite enters.
EREMITE
Before thee always.
ANTIOCHUS
How
Cam’st thou or whence ? I know thy ominous look.
EREMITE
The how inquire not nor the whence, but learn
The end is near which I then promised thee.
ANTIOCHUS
So then, defeat and death were from the first
My portion! Wherefore were thoughts gigantical
With which I came into my mother ready-shaped
If they must end in the inglorious tomb ?
EREMITE
Despise not proud defeat, scorn not high death.
The gods accept them sternly.
ANTIOCHUS
Yes, as I shall,
But not submissively.
EREMITE
Break then, thou hill
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Unsatisfied with thy own height. The gods
Care not if thou resist or if thou yield;
They do their work with mortals. To the Vast
Whence thou, O ravening, strong and hungry lion,
Overleaping cam’st the iron bars of Time,
Return! Thou hast thy tamers. God of battles!
Son of Nicanor! Strong Antiochus!
Depart and be as if thou wert not born.
The gods await thee in Antioch.
He departs.
ANTIOCHUS
I will meet them there.
Break me. I see you can, O gods. But you break
A body, not this soul; for that belongs, I feel,
To other masters. It is settled then.
Tomorrow sets in Antioch.
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