Mariamne

It is enough: the power of Salome, By all acknowledged, and by all obeyed, On its firm basis stands immovable: I fled to Azor, with the lightning's speed, Even from Samaria's plain to Jordan's spring, And quick returned: my presence there indeed Was needful, to cut off the aspiring hopes Of Israel's moody race: thy brother Herod, So long detained at Rome, was almost grown A stranger in his kingdom; and the people, Ever capricious, turbulent, and bold, Still to their kings unjust, aloud proclaimed, That Herod was condemned to slavery By haughty Rome; and Mariamne, raised To the high rank of her proud ancestors, Would from the blood of our high-priests select A king, to rule o'er conquered Palestine.
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