Part 51 (1/2)

Thou hast found favour in thy master's eyes; Hast thou no other gift to ask of me?

RUAHMAH: [Earnestly.]

My lord, I do entreat thee not to go To-morrow to the council. Seek the King And speak with him in secret; but avoid The audience-hall.

NAAMAN: Why, what is this? Thy wits Are wandering. My honour is engaged To speak for war, to lead in war against The a.s.syrian Bull and save Damascus.

RUAHMAH: [With confused earnestness.]

Then, lord, if thou must go, I pray thee speak,-- I know not how,--but so that all must hear.

With magic of unanswerable words Persuade thy foes. Yet watch,--beware,--

NAAMAN: Of what?

RUAHMAH: [Turning aside.]

I am entangled in my speech,--no light,-- How shall I tell him? He will not believe.

O my dear lord, thine enemies are they Of thine own house. I pray thee to beware,-- Beware,--of Rimmon!

NAAMAN: Child, thy words are wild: Thy troubles have bewildered all thy brain.

Go, now, and fret no more; but sleep, and dream Of Israel! For thou shalt see thy home Among the hills again.

RUAHMAH: Master, good-night.

And may thy slumber be as sweet and deep As if thou camped at snowy Hermon's foot, Amid the music of his waterfalls.

There friendly oak-trees bend their boughs above The weary head, pillowed on earth's kind breast, And unpolluted breezes lightly breathe A song of sleep among the murmuring leaves.

There the big stars draw nearer, and the sun Looks forth serene, undimmed by city's mirk Or smoke of idol-temples, to behold The waking wonder of the wide-spread world.

There life renews itself with every morn In purest joy of living. May the Lord Deliver thee, dear master, from the nets Laid for thy feet, and lead thee out along The open path, beneath the open sky!

[Exit RUAHMAH: NAAMAN stands looking after her.]

SCENE II

TIME: _The following morning_

_The audience-hall in BENHADAD'S palace. The sides of the hall are lined with lofty columns: the back opens toward the city, with descending steps: the House of Rimmon with its high tower is seen in the background. The throne is at the right in front: opposite is the royal door of entrance, guarded by four tall sentinels.

Enter at the rear between the columns, RAKHAZ, SABALLIDIN, HAZAEL, IZDUBHAR._

IZDUBHAR: [An excited old man.]

The city is all in a turmoil. It boils like a pot of lentils.

The people are foaming and bubbling round and round like beans in the pottage.

HAZAEL: [A lean, crafty man.]

Fear is a hot fire.

RAKHAZ: [A fat, pompous man.]

Well may they fear, for the a.s.syrians are not three days distant. They are blazing along like a waterspout to chop Damascus down like a pitcher of spilt milk.

SABALLIDIN: [Young and frank.]

Cannot Naaman drive them back?