Olive Tilford Dargan

“ This crown—no more. (Takes crown from Khosrove’s hand) You pause. Stand not, my son.
Thy vengeance waits. Do what thou wilt with her,
We ’ll question not.
(Khosrove strikes off the chains of Semiramis)
Khos. Go free to Nineveh.
(Husak stands in amazed silence, then understands and burns with speechless anger. At last he speaks slowly with intense wrath)
Hus. All madmen in my kingdom die! Bind him!
(Guards bind Khosrove)
Sem. Die? No! O, sir, you would not slay your son?
Hus. This loathsome thing is not my flesh!
Sem. Thy son!
Hus. We have no son. Armenia has no heir. ”

“ Now, woman, learn that Husak—ay, Husak, the Fierce, can pity fallen glory!
Stand forth, my son! Look, captive, on this prince!
A man not made to sue to less than gods!
Make him thy husband-king, and from his hands
Receive thy purple and remount thy throne!
(All are astonished. Khosrove shrinks back in shame, which Semiramis misunderstands)
Sem. Methinks this lover makes no ardent suit,
King Husak! ”

“ It is the feast. A man may feast who had—
But has no son!... (Startled) ’Tis not the feast!... I know
That noise confused—hoarse shouts—shrieks—pawing steeds—
And rumbling chariots! Those are the tones
Of battle! O, the bloody work! ’Tis war!
Did it delight me once?... Assyrian cries!
My troops! my troops! They ’ve rallied! How they cheer!
What brave heart leads them on?
(Cries come nearer)
Poor creatures, they Would save me knowing not I died with Khosrove.
I will not live—
(The rear of the tent is torn away by an onslaught. Assyrian troops enter, led by Artavan)
Art. Semiramis! ”