Place—Shushan, the Capital of Persia.

Time—478 B.C.

[A hall in the palace of the king. Enter Smerdis, the king's jester, and Ahafid, poet and minstrel to the king, from opposite sides of the hall. Ahafid is already an old man, with long grey beard and a little stooped with age. He carries a golden Persian harp on which he plays and accompanies his own song.]

Ahafid

[Sings.]

Now War has doffed his mailed coat

And Peace forgot her art;

The lute but not the bugle's note

Can stir the kingly heart;

Nights of revel and carp,

And days of sensuous rust,

How can a poet's harp

Intone a song of lust?

[2]

The king is mad. His flight from Salamis

Was bad enough. But that could be excused.

For six months now what has he done but drink,

Carouse and wallow in lascivious ease,

While subjects driven to despair with tax

Have fallen on the poisoned sword and cursed

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