Sardanapalus

Eat, drink, and love; the rest's not worth a fillip. —Lord Byron

Sardanapalus (7th century BC) was a legendary king of Assyria, remembered by the Greeks as a jaded voluptuary. He figures as a literary persona in many later works.

Quotes

Epitaphs

• Εὖ εἰδώς, ὅτι θνητὸς ἔφυς, σὸν θυμὸν ἄεξε,
  τερπόμενος θαλίήσι. θανόντι τοι οὔ τις ὄνησις.
  καὶ γὰρ ἐγὼ σποδός εἰμι, Πίνου μεγάλης βασιλεύσας.
  ταῦτ ἔχω, ὅσσ’ ἔφαγον καὶ ἐφύβρισα καὶ μἐτ ἔρωτος
  τέρπν’ ἔπαθον, τὰ δὲ πολλὰ καὶ ὀλβια κεῖνα λέλειπται.
• Cf. Ede, bibe, lude, post mortem nulla voluptas.
  • Strabo, De situ orbis XIV. v. 9.
    • Well aware that thou art by nature mortal, magnify the desires of thy heart, delighting thyself in merriments; there is no enjoyment for thee after death. For I too am dust, though I have reigned over great Ninus. Mine are all the food that I have eaten, and my loose indulgences, and the delights of love that I have enjoyed; but those numerous blessings have been left behind.
      • H. L. Jones, The Geography of Strabo, vi, p. 340.
    • Know well that thou art mortal: therefore raise
      Thy spirit high with long luxurious days.
      When thou art dead, thou hast no pleasure then.
      I too am earth, who was a king of men
      O’er Nineveh. My banquets and my lust
      And love-delights are mine e’en in the dust;
      But all those great and glorious things are flown.
      True doctrine for man’s life is this alone.
      • J. A. Symonds Jr., "Epitaph on Sardanapalus",
        Studies of the Greek Poets (1873), p. 35.
    • Assured that you are doomed to die, do as your passions crave,
      Rejoicing in good cheer; you’ll find no profit in the grave:
      For I am ash who once was king of Nineveh the brave:
      All that I ate or drank or learned of love’s delights, I have:
      But of my rich possessions no penny could I save.
      • Sir William Marris, "The Tomb of Sardanapalus",
        The Oxford Book of Greek Verse in Translation (1938)

Literature

• All farewells should be sudden.
• The dust we tread upon was once alive.
• I am the very slave of circumstance
  And impulse,—borne away with every breath!
• Eat, drink, and love; the rest's not worth a fillip.
• By all that's good and glorious.
• Which makes life itself a lie,
  Flattering dust with eternity.
• Till now, no drop from an Assyrian vein
  Hath flow'd for me, nor hath the smallest coin
  Of Nineveh's vast treasures e'er been lavish'd
  On objects which could cost her sons a tear:
  If then they hate me, 'tis because I hate not:
  If they rebel, 'tis because I oppress not.
•     Why, what other
  Interpretation should it bear? it is
  The very policy of orient monarchs –
  Pardon and poison – favours and a sword –
  A distant voyage, and an eternal sleep […]
  How many satraps have I seen set out
  In his sire's day for mighty vice-royalties,
  Whose tombs are on their path! I know not how,
  But they all sicken'd by the way, it was
  So long and heavy.
• I thought to have made mine inoffensive rule
  An era of sweet peace 'midst bloody annals,
  A green spot amidst desert centuries,
  On which the future would turn back and smile,
  And cultivate, or sigh when it could not
  Recall Sardanapalus' golden reign.
  I thought to have made my realm a paradise,
  And every moon an epoch of new pleasures.
  I took the rabble's shouts for love – the breath
  Of friends for truth – the lips of woman for
  My only guerdon – so they are, my Myrrha: [He kisses her]
  Kiss me. Now let them take my realm and life!
  They shall have both, but never thee!
  • Lord Byron, Sardanapalus (1821)

• Th’ Assyrian king, in peace, with foul desire
  And filthy lusts that stained his regal heart;
  In war, that should set princely hearts on fire,
  Did yield, vanquished for want of martial art.
  The dint of swords from kisses seemèd strange,
  And harder than his lady’s side his targe;
  From glutton feasts to soldier’s fare a change;
  His helmet far above a garland’s charge:
  Who scarce the name of manhood did retain,
  Drenchèd in sloth and womanish delight,
  Feeble of spirit, impatient of pain,
  When he had lost his honour and his right,
  (Proud, time of wealth; in storms, appalled with dread,)
  Murthered himself, to show some manful deed.
  • Earl of Surrey, "On Sardanapalus’ Dishonourable Life and Miserable Death",
    Tottel's Songes and Sonettes (1557)

• Th’ Assyrians’ king, in peace with foul desire
  And filthy lust that stained his regal heart,
  In war, that should set princely hearts afire,
  Vanquished did yield for want of martial art.
  The dent of swords from kisses seemed strange,
  And harder than his lady’s side his targe;
  From glutton feasts to soldiers’ fare a change
  His helmet far above a garland’s charge.
  Who scarce the name of manhood did retain
  Drenched in sloth and womanish delight,
  Feeble of sprete, unpatient of pain,
  When he had lost his honour and his right
  (Proud time of wealth, in storms appalled with dread)
  Murdered himself to show some manful deed.
  • W. S. Braithwaite, Book of Elizabethan Verse (1906)