Classic Poem

Alexandrean Tragedy, The - Act 1

ACT I .

The Ghost of A LEXANDER the Great .

Back from th' umbragious caves (still rob'd of rest)
Must I returne, where Phaebus gildes the fields,
A ghost not worthy to be Pluto's guest,
Since one to whom the world no buriall yeelds?
O what a great disgrace is this to me,
Whose trophees fame in many a kingdom keeps.
That I (contemn'd) cannot transported be
A passenger for the sulphurean deeps?
Dare churlish Charon (though not us'd to bow)
The raging torrent of my wrath gain-stand?
Must I succumbe amidst hells dungeons now,
Though all the world accustom'd to command?
But it may be that this hath wrought me harme,
What bloudlesse ghosts do stray on Stygian banks,
Whose falls (made famous by my fatall arme)
Gave terrour oft to many martiall ranks?
Yet (for a prey expos'd to ravenous beasts)
Could never have the honour of a tombe;
But (though for such rude guests too pretious feasts)
Were basely buried in a brutish wombe.
Thus (as it seemes) the horrour of such deeds,
With like indignity attends my sprite;
What stormy breast this thirst of vengeance breeds,
To plague for that which valour did acquite?
Ah! might Alcmena's sonne (as sonne of Iove )
Once force the driery forts of endlesse night,
To match sterne Dis in the Tartarian grove,
And draw forth foaming Cerberus to light?
Then leading Theseus through the dungeons darke,
A second rape aym'd for their ravish'd queene,
Durst he (hells terrour) force the fatall barke,
By squadrons pale (an envi'd victor) seene?
And in my rage may I not tosse this round,
Till roaring earthquakes all the world affright,
Heaven stain'd, hell clear'd, earth torne, all to confound
Enlightning darknesse, or else darkning light?
What, though I from terrestrial regions swerve,
Whom in this state (it may be) some mistake?
May not the voyce of Alexander serve
To make th' earth tremble, and the depths to shake?
Or, straight return'd, shall I my fortune trust,
And th' earth dispeople, slaughtring scatter'd hosts;
Then Pluto plague, all charg'd with bloud and dust,
When men are kill'd to be a king of ghosts?
O how I burst to thinke how some above,
Who for their glory did my steps attend,
My offsprings title proudly do disprove,
And to my chaire by violence ascend:
" Ingratitude doth grieve a generous sprite, "
Would God therefore that with a body stor'd,
I might returne these traitours to acquite,
My back with armes, my hand charg'd with a sword:
As when I entred in a populous towne,
To warre alone with thousands in my wrath,
Whil'st (prizing honour dearer then my crowne)
Each of my blows gave wounds, each wound gave death:
Then thundring vengeance on rebellious bands,
I would make them redeeme my grace with grones,
Where now my ghost (empall'd with horror) stands,
Lesse grac'd then those whom I commanded once;
And yet the glory by those captaines had,
Whom first my ensignes did acquaint with fame,
Doth make my soule (whil'st hating them) more sad,
Then all the suff'rings that the hells can claime.
O now I see what all my minions blindes,
To grace my funerals that they take no paine!
My state (betraying me) distracts their mindes,
Who have forgot all love, save love to raigne,
But Ptolomie doth yet by time intend
To Alexandria to transport me once,
Not mov'd by love, no, for another end,
In hope my fortune will attend my bones.
And must I then so great a trouble have
(To whom the earth did all belong before)
For some few foots of earth to be a grave,
Which meane men get, and great men get no more?
Though many thousand at my signe did bow,
Is this the end or all my conquests then
To be thus barr'd that little circuit now,
A benefit even common unto men?
But of those kingdomes which were thrall to me,
Lest that a little part my body bound,
Th' earth arch'd with heaven my fatall bed should be,
Still unconfin'd, and even when dead, yet crown'd.
O blinde ambition! great mindes viprous brood,
The scourge of mankinde, and the foe to rest,
Thou guilty art of many millions bloud,
And whil'st I raign'd, didst raigne within my brest;
This to my soule but small contentment brings,
That I some cities rear'd, and others raz'd:
And made kings captives; captives to be kings,
Then whil'st the wond'ring world did stand amaz'd.
All that doth now but torture after death,
Which rais'd my fame on pillars more then rare;
O costly conquest of a little breath,
Whose flattring sounds both go and come with th' aire!
Can I be he who thought it a disgrace
To be but weigh'd with other mortals even,
Who would be held of an immortall race,
The off-spring of great Iove , the heire of heaven?
By many meanes I all mens mindes did move,
For altars (as a God) with off'rings stor'd,
Till of his glory Iove did jealous prove:
" All kings should reverenc'd be, but not ador'd. "
Ah! whil'st (transported with a prosp'rous state)
I toil'd to raise my throne above the starres,
The thund'rer straight (who still doth pride abate)
Did wound my fame with most infamous warres.
Made I not grave Calistenes to smart,
Who did disdaine a mortall to adore,
(What knowne unknowing) bent by foolish art,
Though but a man to be imagin'd more?
All fear'd the danger of my roaring wrath,
(Like lyons when asleep) which none durst wake;
My fury was the messenger of death,
Which when enflam'd, made flaming squadrons quake:
Ambition did so farre my thoughts engage,
That I could not abide my fathers praise,
But (though my friend) kill'd Clitus in a rage,
Who Philips fame durst in my presence raise.
Thus though that I mine enemies did abate,
I made my greatest friends become my foes,
Who did my insolence (as barbarous hate)
And for the like afraid wail'd others woes.
Those tyrannies which thousands chanc'd to see
As inhumane a multitude admir'd;
And my familiars strangers growne with me,
As from a tyrant for distrust retyr'd:
Yea, there were many too who did conspire
By base ambushments to have snar'd my life,
Of all my labours, loe, this was the hire!
" Those must have store of toils who toile for strife, "
And I remember that amid'st my joyes,
(Even whil'st the chase of armies was my sport)
There wanted not a number of annoyes
To counter-poise my pleasures in some sort.
" Of those on the earth most happy that remaine,
" (As ag'd experience constantly records)
" The pleasures farre exceeded are by paine:
" Life greater griefe then comfort still affords. "
What griefe, no, rather rage did seize my soule.
Whil'st bigge with hopes a battell bent to prove!
That sudden sicknesse did my course controull,
Which (cold when kinde) embracing flouds did move!
From the physician then (though deem'd for ill)
I took his potion, gave him scandalous lines;
Then whil'st he red did drinke, yet ey'd him still,
And by accusing looks sought guilty signes;
Not that suspitious feares could make me sad,
This was the ground whence did proceed my paine,
Lest death my victory prevented had:
For, I was sure still where I sought to gaine,
But when that I extended had my state
From learned Athens to the barbarous Indes ,
Still my tumultuous troups my pride did hate,
As monstrous mutinies unmask'd their mindes.
I (so my name more wonderfull to make)
Of Hercules , and Bacchus past the bounds,
And (whil'st that Memnons sunne-burnt bands did quake)
Did write my worth in many a monarchs wounds.
Kings were my subjects, and my servants kings,
Yet my contentment further did require,
For, I imagin'd still more mighty things,
And to a greater greatnesse did aspire.
The spatious carriere of the speedy sunne,
(All quickly thrall'd) like lightning I o're-ran:
Yet wept, and wish'd more worlds t' have been wonne,
As this had wanted roome to ease one man,
No wonder I was thought a god by some,
Since all my aymes (though high as heaven) prevail'd,
And what man (save my selfe) did still o're-come?
Of all my fancies, never project fail'
This made me thought immortaliz'd to be,
Which in all mindes amazement yet contracts:
I led blinde fortune, and she courted me,
As glad to grace the greatnesse of my acts.
Yet I have found it a more easie thing,
To conquer all whereon the sunne ere shin'd,
Then mine owne selfe, and (of my passions king)
To calme the tumults of a stormy minde.
What comfort justly could my soule receive
Of all my conquests past, if that aven then
Whil'st I triumph'd (to wrath and wine a slave)
I scap'd not scandall more then other men;
Ah! (seazing without right on every state)
I but my selfe too great a monarch made,
Since all men gap'd to get the golden bait
Which by my death seem'd easie to be had;
Whil'st from humanity too much divorc'd,
My deeds all hearts with feare, and horrour fill'd,
I who by foes could never have beene forc'd,
By friends did fall, yet not over-com'd, but kill'd.
But now I see the troublous time draws neare,
When they shall keep my obsequies with bloud:
No wonder too, though such a warriours beere,
At last doth swimme amidst a scarlet floud:
For, as my life did breed huge broils o're all,
My death must be the cause of monstrous cumbers,
And it doth best become a strong mans fall,
To be renown'd by ruining of numbers.
The snake-tress'd sisters now shall never need
Their fatall fire-brands, loathsome Pluto's pests,
Nor inspirations strange whose rage doth breed
A thirst of murther in transported brests.
Ambitions flames may from my ashes shine
To burne my minions mindes with high desires,
Each of their sprits that hath a spark of mine,
To ruine all the world, may furnish fires.
The beauties of the earth shall all look red,
Whil'st my lievtenants through that pride of theirs,
With armes unkinde huge streames of bloud do shed,
By murthering of my heires, to be my heires.
Is this that greatnesse which I did designe,
By being eminent, to be o'rethrowne,
To ruine first my selfe, then root out mine;
As conquering others, but to lose mine owne?
O happie I, more happie farre my race!
If pleas'd with that which was our ancient rent,
I manag'd had th' Æmaethian power in peace,
Which was made lawfull by a long discent:
Then farre sequestred from Bellona's rage,
I had the true delights of nature tri'd,
And ag'd with honour, honour'd in my age,
Had left my sonne secure before I dy'd;
And he inheriting a quiet state
(Which then because lesse great had beene more sure
Had (free from envy) not beene harm'd by hate,
Which of most states the ruine doth procure;
But since they will en-earth my earthly part,
Which now no badge of majestie retaines,
To roaring Phlegeton I must depart
Farre from the lightsome bounds of th' aiery plaines,
And must I there who did the world surmount
(Arrested by the monarch of the gho'st)
To Rhadamanthus render an account
Of all the deeds done by my ravenous hosts?
There whil'st with Minos Æacus sits downe,
A rigorous judge in hels most horrid court,
With me who passe his nephew in renowne,
(Though of his race) he no way will comport,
O what pale ghosts are here together brought,
Which were of bodies spoil'd by my decree!
And first Parmenio without whom I nought
But who did many great things without me:
At the tribunal of Tartarian pow'rs,
He aggravates ingratitude too great,
And (whil'st the raging tyrant foaming lowres)
All whom I wrong'd, for vengence do entreat:
Yet guilty thoughts torment me most of all,
No spirit can be by plaguing furies pin'd,
(Though charg'd without with snakes, within with gall)
As by the stings of a remording minde.
If it be true that drowsie Lethes streames
In darke oblivion drowne all things at last,
There, let me bury farre from Phaebus beames,
The loath'd remembrance of my labours past.

Chorus .

What strange adventures now
Distract distressed mindes
With such most monstrous formes?
When silence doth allow
The peace that nature findes,
And that tumultuous windes
Do not disturbe with stormes
An universall rest:
When Morpheus hath represt
Th' impetuous waves of cares,
And with a soft sleepe bindes,
Those tyrants of the brest,
Which would spread forth most dangerous snares,
To sink affliction in despaires:
Huge horrours then arise
The elements to marre,
With most disastrous signes:
Arm'd squadrons in the skies,
With lances throwne from farre,
Do make a monstrous warre,
Whil'st furie nought confines:
The dragons vomit fire,
And make the starres retire
Out of their orbes for feare,
To satisfie their ire,
Which heavens high buildings not forbear,
But seem the crystall towres to teare;
Amidst the ayre, fierce blasts
Doe boast with blustring sounds,
To crush this mighty frame,
Which (whilst the tempest lasts)
Doth rent the stately rounds,
To signifie what wounds
To all her off-springs shame
Shall burst th' earths veynes with bloud,
And this all-circling floud,
(As it the heavens would drowne)
Doth passe the bounding bounds,
And all the scalie brood,
Reare roaring Neptunes foamie crowne,
Whilst th' earth for feare seems to sinke downe,
Those whom it hid with horrour!
Their ashy lodgings leave,
To re-enjoy the light,
Or else some panicke terrour
Our judgement doth bereave,
Whilst first we misconceive,
And so prejudge the sight;
Or, in the bodies stead,
The genius of the dead
Turnes backe from Styx againe,
Which Dis will not receive,
Till it a time engendring dread,
Plague (whilst it doth on th' earth remaine)
All else with feare, it selfe with paine.
These fearefull signes fore-show
(All nations to appall)
What plagues are to succeed.
Since death hath lay'd him low,
Who first had made us thrall,
We heard that straight his fall
Our liberty would breed;
But this proves no reliefe;
For many (O what griefe!)
The place of one supply;
And we must suffer all;
Thus was our comfort briefe:
O! rarely doe usurpers dye,
But others will their fortune try.English