What fascination is it chains my feet,
And keeps me gazing like a curious child
Into the holy places, where the priests
Have raised their altar?—­Striking stones together,
They take fire out of them, and light the lamps
In the great candlestick.  They spread the veils,
And set the loaves of showbread on the table. 
The incense burns; the well-remembered odor
Comes wafted unto me, and takes me back
To other days.  I see myself among them
As I was then; and the old superstition
Creeps over me again!—­A childish fancy!—­
And hark! they sing with citherns and with cymbals,
And all the people fall upon their faces,
Praying and worshipping!—­I will away
Into the East, to meet Antiochus
Upon his homeward journey, crowned with triumph. 
Alas! to-day I would give everything
To see a friend’s face, or to hear a voice
That had the slightest tone of comfort in it!

ACT V.

The Mountains of Ecbatana.

SCENE I. —­ ANTIOCHUS; PHILIP; ATTENDANTS.

ANTIOCHUS. 
Here let us rest awhile.  Where are we, Philip? 
What place is this?

PHILIP. 
Ecbatana, my Lord;
And yonder mountain range is the Orontes.

ANTIOCHUS. 
The Orontes is my river at Antioch. 
Why did I leave it?  Why have I been tempted
By coverings of gold and shields and breastplates
To plunder Elymais, and be driven
From out its gates, as by a fiery blast
Out of a furnace?

PHILIP. 
These are fortune’s changes.

ANTIOCHUS. 
What a defeat it was!  The Persian horsemen
Came like a mighty wind, the wind Khamaseen,
And melted us away, and scattered us
As if we were dead leaves, or desert sand.

PHILIP. 
Be comforted, my Lord; for thou hast lost
But what thou hadst not.

ANTIOCHUS. 
I, who made the Jews
Skip like the grasshoppers, am made myself
To skip among these stones.

PHILIP. 
Be not discouraged. 
Thy realm of Syria remains to thee;
That is not lost nor marred.

ANTIOCHUS. 
O, where are now
The splendors of my court, my baths and banquets? 
Where are my players and my dancing women? 
Where are my sweet musicians with their pipes,
That made me merry in the olden time? 
I am a laughing-stock to man and brute. 
The very camels, with their ugly faces,
Mock me and laugh at me.

PHILIP. 
Alas! my Lord,
It is not so.  If thou wouldst sleep awhile,
All would be well.

ANTIOCHUS. 
Sleep from mine eyes is gone,
And my heart faileth me for very care. 
Dost thou remember, Philip, the old fable
Told us when we were boys, in which the bear
Going for honey overturns the hive,
And is stung blind by bees?  I am that beast,
Stung by the Persian swarms of Elymais.

PHILIP. 
When thou art come again to Antioch
These thoughts will be as covered and forgotten
As are the tracks of Pharaoh’s chariot-wheels
In the Egyptian sands.