60 / Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022058279 ARISTON: A TRAGEDY FROM THE OLD GRECIAN LIFE. By John M. Leavitt. Cornell University Library PS 2235.L7A7 Ariston:a tragedy from the old Grecian I 3 1924 022 058 279 NEW YORK: A. S. BARNES & CO. ARISTON: A TRAGEDY FROM THE OLD GRECIAN LIFE. By John M. Leavitt. NEW YORK: A. S. BARNES & CO Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, By A. S. BARNES & CO., In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. ARISTON: a Tragedy in Five Acts. ACT i. Scene I. — A Room in Athens, in which a symposium has been just finished. ARISTIPPUS. Iolo, hold him — hold him, lest he fall ! Our common manhood sinks in him to earth. PHILIPPON. Jove ! how the fellow reels ! yet heavy seems And helpless as the dead. ARISTIPPUS. Ariston, stand ! Stand like a man, and be once more thy- self! No overloaded ship out on the sea, And struck by winds, and bang'd by spiteful waves, Would toss and veer in such a staggering way. IOLO. How beautiful the rule of not too much — That bound where wine brings sparkle to the wit, Bat not a flame to craze, and burn the brain ! PHILIPPON. A first glass shunn'd, no second could make harm : Our gods may err to ever crown our feasts, Since where none touch, none then can turn to beasts. ARISTIPPUS. Cease thy philosophy, and lend thy hand ! Our strength is vain. [Ariston falls. Our friend is down once more — ■ Down like a satyr snoring off his cups. IOLO. Athens ne'er show'd a form so fine, a heart So brave, so true — yet her Hyperion lies A dribbling drunkard, senseless on the floor — The lustres gone from two half-open'd eyes, Vacant and red — a face that look'd a god's Most pitifully blank — a head and limbs, Whence Phidias took the majesty of Jove, Immortal making his Olympian king, Lie low together in that heap of flesh — A soul that talk'd with stars, and molded men, And made to strike from States ignoble chains, Itself a slave to wine, bestial and dull In sottish sleep ! Enter Calophos.] CALOPHOS. Ye heav'ns ! I grieve o'er this. Oh ! worse than death the sight ! An eyeless skull, Whose worms proclaim our last and loathsome doom, Less sad than such a soul, so self-dis- graced ! ARISTON: Where was your pledge to. watch and help our friend ? IOLO. Where, rather, teacher, thine own power to save ? See there thy work — the end of thy wise ways! Thy boast and paragon too weak for wine — The pride of thy free school a helpless slave ! CALOPHOS. Surprise and shame have stirr'd me into storm, While reason, seeking truth, is slow and calm. Here let us ask why men thus curse themselves, Earth's bounty, turning into pain, and death. I say the cause of drunkenness is one. ARISTIPPUS. Calophos, I deny ! One loves his wine From jollity, because it wings his wit, And warms his blood, until his merry heart With laughter bubbles o'er; while this man drinks To drive away life's gloom, and gild his clouds With light and joy. IOLO. My friend, with rotund flesh, Imbibes as sponges soak the dews of morn, While his own brother, dry and lank and thin, Guzzles like some old pipe when summer suns Have touch'd earth's gracious springs and made them low. PHILIPPON. Ariston is the type of each, and all — Here Plato's genus, drunkenness, in one ! CALOPHOS. Yet is the cause the same, e'en if I grant Our gods help on the ill, and teach us <, men ; Immortal Bacchus will make mortals reel. Olympus drunk, the earth will stagger more ! ARISTIPPUS. Tripp'd thou at last — the thing's impos- sible ! CALOPHOS. Lads, not too fast ! Youth is a snorting horse That dashes on the chariot to its wreck, Where age will drive as silent as its rein. IOLO. Our Calophos, well said ! Now for your proofs ? CALOPHOS. You grant Ariston is a type of all, And hence that true of him, is true of man. What earth could give of good he has possess'd — Youth, beauty, rank, gold, slaves, estates, and friends ; The spark of genius flash'd out from his eye, And Athens half-adored her godlike son. This world for none had ever brighter smiles, Yet in his soul a void, which unfil'i'd here, In wine forgets itself, and seeks to lose In wild and fever'd joys, or dead'ning sleep, Its own infinity, and by its shame Itself immortal shows— a drunkard's cup Proves kinship to the gods ! {While Calophos speaks, Ariston, arising un- noticed, secures an immense Jlagon, and drops into it an exciting drug. IOLO. My Calophos, Behold the test of thy philosophy ! If thou be right, that flagon drain'd will make Ariston Jove, and for Olympus fit. CALOPHOS. Quick ! I say, quick ! arrest his clasping hand ! PHILIPPON. Nay ! master, thou hast shown wine proves us gods ; Then let him drink, and plume his wings divine ! A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. CALOPHOS. Ariston, stop ! 'tis fire for thee and death ! That drug burns to his blood and makes him mad ! Wrench quick the flagon from his clutch and lip ! \They rush at Ariston, who resists, and drives tlu'ni off. ARISTON. Master ! I waked in time to hear thy words. Hail, sparkling cup, thou spring of deity ! Both fancy's fire and reason's wing in thee! Thou balm of sorrow, and thou cure of pain ! Nay, heav'n itself is in thy flush and gleam ! Wise Calophos, thy thoughts have sober'd me ! Blest, magic wine, gay daughter of the sun, Whose own paternal rays thy virtues flash, That man may drink the nectar of the gods, Who says a serpent coils round in this cup To sting my sense and poison life and joy ? How bright thy.bubbling brim with flash- ing proofs Of an immortal light that knows no cloud ! Calophos, I drink to thy philosophy. \They again seek to prevent Ariston, who suc- ceeds in draining the flagon, and, when the struggle ends, is excited into frenzy. IOLO. Gods, how* the rascal raves ! his eyes stand out As bursting from his head ! his thews seem steel — No blind Cyclops ever had such strength I Master, in wine this potency divine ! CALOPHOS. Ariston, pupil, friend, be still ! be calm ! ARISTON. Ye heavens, the room flies round ! my head is hot ! Put out these flames that blaze about my flesh ! Kill, kill these snakes that glare, and twist, and hiss, And crawl from out my hair ! Oh ! blast- ing sights, Where hell has burst to earth to clasp in fire! Oh ! Help ye ! water ! help, and quench these flames ! [Helia, the mother of Ariston, enters, silently takes his hand, and subdues him at once. Mother, I own thy spell ! Thy look of love Goes to my heart, and cools my burning brain ! Lead where thou wilt, and I will follow thee — No words ! no words ! 'tis silence moves my soul, And speech but maddens me ! \Exennt, Helia leading her son by the hand. CALOPHOS. Maternal love ! More is thy magic than philosophy ! Where reason fails, thy touch the tiger tames ; Love is more potent than immortal truth, And when States built by force- he ghastly wrecks, 'Tis she will make in human hearts a throne So strong our earth will be one brother- hood. Scene II. — A Room in Alcander's house in Athens. ALCANDER. O brother, Athens can hot be so base. * Her honors on my brow for twice ten years Are proofs she knows how much she owes my love. HEROCLES. Thy love of her, Alcander, or thyself? Hast thou not lived and blossom'd on the State, And hung thy family tree with flowers and fruits ? Democracies are quick to read men through, And weigh what they deserve of good^,, or ill ; ARISTON: Too oft their breath with envy merit blasts, And hurls from Fortune's height their idols down. ALCANDER. Herocles, thou art bold ; I think, too bold. Athens will never dare to frown on me ! If she is false, I'll pay her back tenfold. HEROCLES. Ha ! this thy love ! The tiger feed — a child May stroke his skin, and count his varied stripes : Keep back his meat — he glares and shows his fangs. ALCANDER. Not e'en from thee such insults will I bear : Thy words are blunt beyond a brother's right. The mob shall not exile me with the shell. All the best blood of Greece is in our •veins ! Nay ! from the gods themselves our pedigree. Thrice round my brow the crown has hung its leaves, While shook the Agora with shouts that moved Minerva throned on her Acropolis. HEROCLES. The mountain-tree invites the thunderbolt Which blazes harmless o'er the modest vale. Athens, Alcander, have you not yet learn'd ? Just where she most exalts she most suspects : Shrill envy hisses in her wildest praise ; Her hand binds on the crown to tear it off; She dooms her noblest worth to banish- ment : The warmer her embrace, the blow more sure. ALCANDER. Curse on her fickle mobs ! thy words are true ; But she shall find in me at .last her match. T,he snake, untouch'd, will slumber in his coil : Yet, struck, will dart the venom from his fang, Till all the quivering flesh thrills with the pang. HEROCLES. Thy threats but prove thy heart to Greece most false. True love to her has not its life in self, Seeks not its own, o'er pride exalts the State, And like the tree whose shatter'd length lies low, Will from old roots lift high new boughs to heaven. ALCANDER. I've been a fool ; duped by the crowd's vile breath ; Fortune has beam'd across my sky so bright, I thought could never come the shades of night. HEROCLES. While shines the day prepare for storm, and gloom. Who mounts a gorgeous chariot of clouds To seek the gilding sun, must know one blast May turn his painted splendors back to air, And drop him mid the crowd- who wait with yells To see their idol fall. ALCANDER. O Herocles, I dread myself ! I feel my frailty here ! Help me, ye gods, and keep me from my wreck ! Now I do see earth's blessings leave a gloom As sculptured figures crown'd with grace and light Cast spectral shadows in the brilliant sun. HEROCLES. Thou art indeed above a precipice ; A democrat from choice I may escape. Thy boasted birth from gods, thy dignities, Thy wealth, all tempt the blow. Thy stately form, Thy head made for a king, thy spurning foot, A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. Thine eyes which flash o'er crowds as made to serve, •Awake instinctive envy and distrust : The men thy name who shout, thine exile mean ; Unmaking thee to show their gift thy power, Which Fame loud trumpets o'er a listen- ing world. ALCANDER. Why trust we then the treacherous mob to rule ? Let Persia plant her throne in our free Greece ! Better one king than a vile tyrant crowd. HEROCLES. Just what I thought : here doth thy peril lie: Thy secret heart inclines thee to a throne. And this the people know. Thy doom is plain. The shell will drive thee hence to live with kings : Yet not for them, for all this world was made. Our citizens, so. fickle, so disdain' d, Such children in the Agora's debate, Upon the battle-field are matchless men. They have wall'd Attica with adamant, And Asia's banner'd tyrants have defied. The people shall at length be lords of earth. Our Athens shines the type of that bright day When they who own the State the State shall sway. Enter Servants, bearing Ariston on a Utter, stupefied after a debauch, and covered with a robe.] ALCANDER. Stop, knaves ! What bear you there ? FIRST SERVANT. We may not tell. ALCANDER. Tell, rascals, tell ! At once take off that robe ! SECOND SERVANT. Master, the sight will only stir thy rage. I pray thee pause !■ | ALCANDER. Cease, slave, I say — obey ! These servile dogs grow brazen like our mobs. [The Servants draw aside the robe. Ah ! there the thorn that pierces through my pride ; Our house's blot, our huge black spectral wo. My image traced on that unconscious wretch ! My pedigree brought down from gods to brutes ! Take, take the breathing infamy away ! Never again that curse beneath my roof. Enter Helia.] HELIA. My lord, relent^ ALCANDER. Helia, is that thy son, His features turn'd to loathsomeness by wine ? From thee, not me, his foul, disgraceful taint. HELIA. His only hold on virtue is our love : But cut that tie, and he is doomed to death — Nay, worse ! his life will be a curse and pang. ALCANDER. But yesterday, before the Parthenon, Whose pillar'd majesty might awe a beast, I saw him ivy-crown'd, a bacchanal With thyrsus beating off the pelting boys, Who laugh'd to see and hear the stag- gering wretch, A*nd gloated o'er my shame and grief, and rage. HELIA. Forgive, forgive our boy ! In mercy look ! All mortals frail should weep when mortals sin ; How then should parents bathe with tears a son ! ALCANDER. His presence in our house will madden me ; His face now wakes a demon in my soul. ARI STON: HELIA. [Kneeling before Alcander. Let pity move thy breast ! Recall thy kiss First press 'd on his sweet lips — the light on thee From his joy-sparkling -eye — the answer- ing smile Which stirr'd thy father's heart — the prat- tled word Whose music-thrill awaked a world of love — His childhood's beauty, and his boyhood's morn — His glory of young manhood in a face And form that seem'd for bright Apollos made — Moving to say, " There go^es the pride of Greece ! " Save, save our son, and bind him to thy heart ! Exalting him, Alcander, lift thyself ! Oh ! kindle for our house from gloom a light ! Thy life beats in his blood — from thee he takes His majesty which mirrors only thine — From out thy love was born his manly soul : By thee cast off, he wanders forth a wretch, In earth's dark night doom'd but to black despair. ALCANDER. My heart is touch'd, and yet I fear thy plea. Expell'd our roof, we purge off his dis- grace. HELIA. Oh ! what can stop a mother's words of love ? I kneel between my darling son and wo, One hand in his, the other clasping thine, And make twixt him and thee a link of life. I kiss thy feet ; I beg thee to relent ; Let these warm drops melt down thy stern resolve ! Oh, in his haggard face I beauty see Come back, and love and light and hope. He yet shall rise a man, our city's pride, The glory of our State and age, and thine. Oh ! where he goes I go, to live, to die ! With kisses on his lips I seal my vow. HEROCLES. A mother's cry, Alcander, should be heard ; The gods speak to thee in those touching tears. • ALCANDER. Once more I yield ; but my last weakness this: His next offense shall drive him from my roof. We will withdraw, and leave him to him- himself Until his soul returns from its debauch. [The Servants place the robe over Ariston, and all leave the room. He soon after rises. ARISTCTNT. Her tones of love down through my spirit pierced And scatter'd from its sleep the fumes of wine. A tranquil glory lingers round this spot Like beams when radiant gods leave earth for heaven. Yes ! here a presence of divinity Which bathes my being with celestial light, My manhood wakes, and gilds my future o'er. Oh ! matchless magic of a mother's love, .Which sees in midnight day, hope in de- spair, In death itself a promise of new life, And hues with heaven the face of wild debauch. O man, thy heart how cold, how sharp, how hard — 'Tis ice, 'tis stone, 'tis steel, 'tis adamant — While woman's sympathies make Pluto soft! Hence may I conquer self, and Athens give A life redeem'd from vice to liberty ! Enter Calophos.] My master, friend, oh, help me keep my vow! Tell me, hast thou ever seen thine angel . A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. CALOPHOS. 'Tis to my soul, not to mine eye he speaks. In the still night, or when my way grows dark, And I, o'erborne, am sinking 'neath life's load, A whisper shows my path, a hand unseen Clasps mine to hold me up, and a light shines Before my doubtful steps. ARISTON. My guide is flesh'd — Is seen, is touch'd, is heard — yet is in me A tone of love soft as an evening sigh — A shape which glides in beauty to my side, Outshining nymphs — a presence bright about My erring life, which melts to tears, And smiles like Virtue's image on my heart. CALOPHOS. I have become thy jest, and thou dost mock. Oh, can Ariston join the jeering crowd, And speak such words to hurt and wound his friend ? ARISTON. Nay! Calophos, I own in thee some power That lifts thy nature o'er the common herd, And helps thee climb to truth's pure mountain-height While others crawl in mists through crooked vales — A Guide invisible who leads thee on To immortality. CALOPHOS. It is most true — True as the voice of winds — true as the light t Which folds around our world with life and bloom — Or.that in man which yearns to ever be. ARISTON. Dost thou remembef, Calophos, the day When in the fight, beneath my boyish ! Nine soldiers fell, and lay piled round in heaps, Helm upon helm, and shield on shatter'd shield, While I stood wounded on the slippery ground — My corselet cleft, a spear-thrust in my breast, O'e'r all my armor blood, and reel'd my brain And steps ? Now in mine ear that battle- roar — Now swift I see thee come, strike right and left, And snatch me from my foes, and bear me off As Troy's great hero saved his sire from flames. CALOPHOS. l And my old back oan feel thy carcass now Press on it sore. Jove, how thy dangling legs Struck on my heels, as I went staggering on Beneath thy weight which made me pant for breath ! ARISTON. Well, Calophos, not in that thick of death, That clash of meeting swords, that ring of shields, The tramp, the groans, the shouts of battle's hell Where ghosts flew shrieking o'er the pain and blood, Was I so weak, so lost, as here and now. I am a slave — a mean, ignoble slave — Slave to myself — slave to the foe I hate. I vow to break my chain, and tighten it ; I curse the cup, and press it to my lips ; I loathe the serpent's cold and snaky coil, Yet clasp it round my flesh ; the fang invite Whose poison-fire burns in my madden'd blood, To scorch my brain, to blast my hope, and life, And wake its hissing phantoms twisting round. But a new strength is in me, Calophos i ARISTON: Not from thy word?, though wise ; not from thy school, Whose fame will gild o'er time ; not from our gods, Whose revels make their heaven worse than our earth. My mother's love, forgetful of itself, Spurning the laws of custom and of sex, Has search'd me in my haunts, come" to our feasts ; Nay! in the jeering crowd, the midnight street. Has lifted me from earth, thrill'd with its touch, Its tone, its look, its smile, till in my flesh Its virtue seem'd infused, and in my heart And will a power awaked above mine own, Through which I feel I yet shall be a Scene III. — A Banqueting -room in Athens, where the guests, garlanded, are reclining around a table. — ARIS- TON presides over the feast. IOLO. Ariston, folly thus to make a feast And touch no cup. Athens will laugh at . thee. Sings.] Youth is the time for Wine, Whose sparkling flow Makes pleasure glow. Do gods create the vine ? Then man should sip With grateful lip Bright gushing tides Which heaven provides. PHILIPPON. To Cupid drink, or on thy festal throne He'll strike thee howling with a thistle- spear ; And his wee tribes, who live in bloom to sip The dew of flowers, will hiss and sting thee off. Sings.] Wine is the spark of Love, Whose thrill and fire Keen joys inspire. Gods feel its flames above. ■ Quick ! snatch the bliss From its sweet kiss, Since heaven, they say, Has shown the way. ARISTIPPON. To Bacchus drink, or he'll draw out thine ears ; Old Pan shall stride thy back, and with his hoofs Punch in thy sides, while Fauns and Dryads pierce With swords of thorn, and twist thee round with vines. Sings.] Wine is the spice of Wit, Whose shouts arise To please the skies. Gods round their feasts will sit To joke and smile And care beguile, Till heaven will shine With wit and wine. ARISTON. Excuse, my friends ! I pray, this once excuse ! IOLO. Ariston, nay ! quick ! pledge us in a cup ! ARISTON. [Pours out some 'wine, and holds it before a lamp. I would not cloud, my friends, our festival ; And yet you drive me into serious words. PHILIPPON. Ariston, cease ! and curses on your gloom ! All sing.] Wine lends a wing, that Joy May fly away From Care grown gray ; Gods have no hard employ. Then flower-crowns bring ; We'll drink and sing Till heaven shall heai Our louder cheer. a ARISTON. How bright this cup ! Behold its spar- kles dance • ' And flash their joy ! Oh, burns my thirst- ing lip But for a drop ! My soul grows mad to rush A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. And quench its flames, and lose in wine its wo. Yet see beneath that light an adder coil Whose sting is death, while hell lies sleeping there, To wake, may be, with an eternal pang. friends, one slightest sip would ruin me, Would set my blood on fire, palsy my will, Craze in my madden'd brain, my man- hood slay, And turn me to a beast — or worse, a fiend. Nay ! I will never touch ! My foe I feel At last beneath my feet ! I triumph o'er Myself, and know Ariston is a man. . 1 pour this cup an offering to the gods, And go wherever destiny may lead. Now see before your eyes how hard for slaves From Pleasure's gilded chains to burst- away ! Persons representing Deities of Greece enter. — Jupiter Olympus, •with his scepter, takes his throne, his eagle at his feet, and at his side Juno, under a rainbow, with her peacock. — On the one hand stand Bacchus, Venus, and Cupid, with Pan and his Fauns, and Satyrs. — On the other hand are Apollo, Diana, andMARS, with theMuses, Nymphs, and Graces.] JUPITER. The majesty of heaven and earth, I come To hear your songs, and victory award — I, who Olympus rule, and deathless gods, Here grasp my scepter'd thunderbolt, while sits Beneath my feet yon kingly bird, the lord Of air and sky, whose gaze is o'er the world, Type of my high and universal rule. Juno, my Queen,' encircled by her bow Of glittering light, appears with radiant smiles, While that bright thing of eyes in purple gemm'd And gold shows mortals her omniscience. We now your songs await. Bacchus, begin ! BACCHUS. When young Spring breathes, and curls the vine, I watch its root ; And bud and shoot, And grape and mantling leaf are mine. From trunk to twig I make glad juices run, Till glows the landscape purpling in the sun. Now, Fauns and Satyrs, sing, and bless ! Pan, tune thy pipe ! The world is ripe. Those hanging clusters pull and press I Around the earth let bursting currents flow. And shouts attest to heaven our joy below. My crowns of ivy weave and bring I Let Age and Care Our banquet share, And foaming wine-cups sparkles fling, And kings and beggars swell the festal cry, And gods for joy on earth forsake the sky , JUPITER. Apollo, king of day, respond in song ! APOLLO. Nay ! bend the noble bow !. The graceful quiver take ! Let nerve and muscle grow ! Let strength your courage make ! And thus on form and brow impress The majesty of manliness. Then strike the sounding lyre Till your broad bosoms thrill, And every pulse is fire, And deathless grows the will ! Soon Greece will crown you in the game "With laurels of eternal fame. See round my head these rays ! I, who the sun-steeds guide, The earth, the heaven make blaze, And life in light provide. I counsel you to turn from wine, And in the beams of virtue shine ! JUPITER. Paste, Beauty's Queen, and try thy tuneful tongue ! VENUS. Kiss'd by the morn, from the foam of the sea As I slept on its wave, Bright "Beauty her glory threw over me, And I smiled as she gave. A R I S T O N : Ch, soon in my breast glow'd Love with his fire, And quick-quiver'd the thrill That conquers e'en Jove, the all-ruling sire, Whom I lead at my will. Immortals fly forth my train to attend, And where brightens my face, Olympus will rush its cycles to spend In my beauty's embrace. JUPITER. Pure as a summer moon, Diana, sing ! DIANA. Red midnight comets from their blazing hair Will drop down horror on the waken'd earth ; And guilty Pleasures, like their fatal glare, Start only wo and terror into birth. "Tis I who rule in peace the virgin-moon, Calm type of lawful wedlock's cloudless bliss ; Oh, at the marriage-altar seek life's boon, And find the purest joy in virtue's kiss. When bow and quiver on my shoulder press As I at morn may brush the sparkling dew, Oft smiling will I pause your home to bless, And richest mercies o'er your life will strew. JUPITER. Quick, merry Cupid, charm us with thy lay! CUPID. The rose my home, My boat a shell, O'er earth I roam To cast my spell ; And when above the clouds I seek to fly, These radiant wings will bear me to the sky. My head beams light ! My heart thrills love, And all things bright Wake where I move ; And heaven bends down to take me with a smile, Since my small arrows men and gods beguile. Make bare your heart ! I twang my bow, Whose pointed dart Rules all below ; Ande'en immortals, when I make them dream, Too brief will find eternal cycles seem. Jupiter. Grim God of Battles, peal thy note of war ! MARS. Nay ! clash the helm, and shield ! Brass-armor'd seek the field ! The battle-spear swift hurl Where chariots flame, and whirl ! Prize on your face the scars Which make you dear to Mars I Your country served, return When War's fires cease to burn : Find deathless your renown If Greece shall- bind the crown, And o'er a grateful land Shall make your statues stand. Yes ! seek my nobler strife, Giving strength, valor, life ; In heaven's eternal plan But Battle makes the man. Then brightens on the sky His immortality. JUPITER. Valor and virtue here have won the prize In noble strains which please both earth and heaven. But, lo, I see approach my Hercules : In this world's clay the grace and fire of gods — Immortal glory shrined in mortal form ! See painted Pleasure lures .him to his death, While Virtue stands, and smiling shows him heaven ! Enter Hercules, preceded by Pleasure and Virtue, who in pantomime enter in opposite directions.'] He stops ! Ah ! Passion stirs her flames. But lo, When Duty calls, he leaves the flowers of vice, And shuts his ear against her syren song, And chooses virtue's safe, but rugged steep While from the skies burst forth celestial strains. [Exit Gods and their Attendants amid tri- umphant music. ARISTON. My friends, you saw the struggles of my soul In this bright pageant acted to your gaze : As good and evil gods strove herein song, So vice and virtue battled for my life. A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. And kept unfix'd an ever-devious will. None longer linger'd in the revel's blaze ; None oft'ner sipp'd the bloom of honey'd love ; None deeper quaff 'd mad joys from each full cup : But now I feel another destiny ; I'll break the coils that wind around my soul And hurl away this thirsting Cerberus ; In toil, in peril win my fair name back. And place my image in the Agora Crown'd with the light of an immortal worth. Oh, should I fall unpitied by the gods, Since you, my friends, will never know my grave, To plant a cypress o'er my exiled dust. Let memory with a tear blot out my faults ! Scene I. — A Garden in Athens, in view of the Sea and the Acropolis. ARISTON. Athena glows o'er the Acropolis Until she seems a goddess in the sun. Whose lingering glory turns her form to flame And flashes from her spear, while oppo- site. The moon is lifting from the sea her face Round, calm, and full, and there the star of love Looks bright as Eos when he eyes the gods, And from its urn of light drops peace on earth. Now trembling into heaven are night's pure lamps Which come from age to age, a mys- tery. A breath of flowers is in the evening air, And as the moonbeams slant along the grass The crimson of the rose is turn'd to gold, And shadows spread their silence o'er my heart, While passion's waves sink gentle as this dew, And reason bathes my soul in calm re- solve. O Ino, come — than yon starr'd blue that round Enspheres our world, more sweet and pure thy love Which circles me, and smiles my canopy. ACT II. Enter Ino.] INO. Found, truant, found ! ARISTON. Then for thy pay a kiss ! INO. Not yet, bad boy— my lips refuse until My ear and heart are both appeased by thee. The thrill of love comes from united souls. ARISTON. Are not ours one, now and forever, Ino ? INO. Ariston, one ! when thou art running off Like some scared school-boy from his master's rod, Or a base fellow who has plunder'd shrines, Or traitor who has Athens sold for gold. Is it a man who will- from perils fly ? Stand like a hero where thou art, and fight, And kisses thou shalt have from lipc of mine More than the rose-leaves, or the smiles of spring, The notes of birds, the beams of summer moons, And all the other sentimental things Which crazy lovers in their letters stuff, Lug into songs, or else distill to tears When evening turns up languid eyes tow'rd stars. ARISTON; ARISTON. Ino, I am in sorry mood for jokes. Once, girl, I would have laugh'd, and answer'd thee, And stol'n a kiss despite thy feigned push, Clasping thee struggling to the arms you wish'd. But now a soberness is o'er my life : Before me is a battle long and hard. INO. "Tis not in sighs, and tears, and faces stern, Mid fear and gloom, dwells the most fix'd resolve. The bird that brightest carols o'er its nest Fights for its brood when ravens croak and fly. Our smiles as well as tears must help the will, And the gay laugh gives vigor to the thought. We mortals, like the earth, need sun and cloud. ARISTON. 'Tis so, my girl ! thou like a ray of morn Hast follow'd me, as light the forms of gods, While I was yet a beast, lost to myself And thee — a slave to wine — an outcast wretch. INO. 'Twas heaven lent me its strength, and whisper'd hope. Behold yon oak wave o'er the moon its boughs, While earth is glad to see the child she bears ! This towering tree once in an acorn slept Amid decay, and circled by the worm ; Yet from that seed this giant majesty ! Thus thou shalt stand aloft the pride of Greece, And I, thy little Ino, 'neath thy shade. There, that is fanciful enough for thee. ARISTON. May all good gods smile on thy prophecy ! E'en more than they art thou and Helia true. Oh, woman's love, it seems a silver'd thread Bent down by dews, and trembling to the stars Beneath some fairy foot, and yet has strength, More than a cable's cords, to anchor man On virtue's rock when midnight perils roar. INO. And yet Ariston from his blessings flies ; Leaves those he loves, and turns their eyes to tears, The tendrils tearing which clasp round his heart. Why hide from home? why steal away disguised ? ARISTON. I'll tell thee, girl ! My chain is snapp'd — my foe Beneath my feet — my will doth stand a rock; Yet still in Athens, mid old scenes and friends, I seem a thing upon the whirlpool's edge, That circles round, imperill'd, not en- gulph'd. As age the cheek, vice wrinkles o'er the soul, Leaves scars, and wounds, and wild and burning thoughts, And voids, and hells behind. Its dead worms gnaw ; While its pale ghosts haunt shivering night and day. Oh, terrible the war ! Old habits cling Like centipedes, and burrow in the flesh, And taint the blood. They must be rooted out As interlacing roots which gardens spoil ; And that takes time, and will, and smiles from gods. By heaven's high help I'll make my life anew, From its foundations build mid other lands And other men ; and when my soul is strong, Transfigured in the glory virtue gives, I'll bring it back to Athens, and to thee. A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. So will the gods, and so my fate decrees. But there draws near what figure robed in black ? INO. Thy mother comes. ARISTON. Helia ! can this be she, With frenzy in her eye, while sadness sits Pale on her face, the sister of despair ? Never yon moon has shone o'er such a wreck. Helia, who has been seen in the distance, ap- proaches, with Calophos behind her unno- ticed.] HELIA. Oh ! he has gone ! my son ! my son ! my son! Jove bore him off, and left me- lone and sad ! This poor heart aches ! — Gods, give me back my boy ! Quick take this weight away or I will die. O moon ! on thy bright feet bring down my son, Or let' me go to thee ! Earth is too dark ! ARISTON. Do you not know me, mother ? Ariston, Thy dear son ! Look in my face ! Your own boy's Voice you hear t Heaven have mercy on our house ! HELIA. Sings.] My boy is in the sky : Jove took him there ; Lone in the world I cry Despair ! despair I My head is all a fire ; My life a sea Whose billows never tire In beating me. Oh, help me, moon, to thee ! Quick I will fly, My boy, my boy to see, Or die — or die ! ARISTON. O mother, you will break my heart in twain ! My Ino, let her hear thy loving voice ! Touch her dear hand with thine, and lead her off! INO. It is, our Helia, Ino thou dost see ! Ino loves thee, Helia ! come with Ino ! HELIA. Thou art a goddess, girl ! I'll follow thee On moonbeams up to Jove, and find my boy. INO. Yes ! come with me ! we both Ariston love ! [Exit Helia, led away by Ino, while Calophos remains. ARISTON. O Calophos, say, can my path thus lead Me o'er my mother's heart ! How can I leave Her in her wo ? My absence crazes her ! 'Tis hard, too hard ! CALOPHOS. Ariston, life is hard — Spun forth by tearless Fates, blind in their work, Since, could they see, their threads would" drop from grief, And being cease to be. The right alone Is guide through this wild maze of things. ARISTON. My friend, The seed I sow'd I reap. Vice, a spoil'd boy With waving curls and roguish looks, will, once A man, plant on his slaves a tyrant-foot, Leer out from bloodshot eyes, and with a whip Of hissing scorpions cut into the flesh ; And when we break his chains we far must fly. To heal the wounds left by his serpent- stings. CALOPHOS. Better to fly than be again in bonds, And feel his lash ! ARISTON. Too true, my Calophos ! My absence and Alcander's perfidy Have thus the brain of Helia overturn 'd. My path to virtue winds o'er rocks, along The chasm's edge, up to thv* light of heaven. ARISTON: CALOPHOS. Thy lips are guards, not sluices to thy mind : Hence learn what else would bring me to the block, Or send the hemlock's torpor through my blood. Who touch her gods will Athens rage to kill, And yet my son will seek their aid in vain. ARISTON. I cry, and they are still. CALOPHOS. When Jove's a swan, Or showering gold, a bull for beauty mad, All-burning to encoil some luscious maid, Small time has he, or care, for mortal prayers. Mars clasping Venus in their silken net ;. Or Bacchus puff'd, and purple as his wine ! Mercurius stealing bright Apollo's lyre ; Queen Juno jealous of Minerva's shield, While all Olympus laughs to see them brawl ; Grim gods with swords, on chariots, butch'ring men, What noble guides are these to love and truth ! Bards coin'd the lies for priests, who turn to gain Our mortal fears — lies into marble carved, And temples wrought, and shrines and altars raised, Which move in pictures, and which thrill in song — Base lies to please the sense, and fancy charm — From man they sprang — hence vile as man himself. There is a Power, of all cause, law and soul, Who, like the air embracing round our world, Wide nature folds — her universal life — And breathes new strength in those who seek the right. And gives new eyes to see the path of light. ARISTON. As some sweet spirit of the viewless air Will toss our words from hill across to hill, Repeated oft in murmurs dying far, Long through my soul has echoed what you tell. Not light more suits the eye whose organs drink Its shining floods, and image this fair world, Than fitted to my needs are thy bold thoughts, Which fill a void within ; and these the strains That make the groves of Plato musical, As a low note of rare celestial sound Floats forth amid wild instrumental din Soft as the blue through thunder-roaring clouds. CALOPHOS. Now let me tell where I life's secret learn'd. After our Persian fight you saw a Jew Sick in our camp — a venerable man — Whose eye dilate look'd through the gloom of death Across the grave. He told of oracles — A law, a temple, and a priesthood too, With yet a brighter hope and joy for man — . Whose light prophetic streams out from the Jew, And falls in few and distant rays on Greece. Up to the Maker thus we follow truth, As to the gracious father of the day We track his beams which shine in deep- est caves, Or glance their gladness to the poor man's hut, Or flash in glory round the towers of kings. ARISTON. Thine angel is His guiding voice within, Thus named to not offend the common herd. CALOPHOS. Ariston, you have guessed — my fancy I this— A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. Itself oh shore, or heaven falls down in floods. 'Tis thus we hold thee in the grasp of fate, Enclosed 'twixt Persian spears and Gre- cian hate. [Exit King, and his Courtiers. ALCANDER. What line can fathom my deep infamy ! Oh ! how my past shows bright in this lone gloom I Athens, thine image shines, most beau- tiful ! New glory rests on thy Acropolis ! Thy Parthenon, how grand ! Immortal shapes Crowd from thine Agora ! Athena's helm Gleams o'er thy walls above Jove's maj- esty ! And then my wife, my son, my friends, my home — All make in memory now a paradise. O eyes, but weep till vengeance stops your dew ! The husband loves the bride who charm 'd his youth, Yet, stain'd by her his bed, will choke her cries — Will rend with steel the form he half adores, And drop his tears down in the blood he sheds. Athens, 'tis thus with thee — the more my love, The more my hate will blaze in ruin o'er. An exile I, whom earth can give nor home Nor grave — never in eyes for me a tear — In hearts, distrust — to kill me, murderous hands — Around me nought save seas of gore and gloom, And rocks and gulfs impassable to me — Stung ever onward to the doom I dread, Afraid to live, and more afraid to die, To my sold soul is left its one dire wbrk — By Persian swords to draw forth Grecian blood, And quench the fire of my eternal hate.' ACT III. Scene I. — A Grove between the Grecian and Persian Camps. • ALCANDER. Ye gods, is this my doom ? In Athens I Dragg'd to the light the crew who bar- ter'd off Themselves for bribes — vermin fix'd on the State To suck its blood into their bloated flesh, And who out-hunger the hyena's maw — Like vipers sting, like vultures live on death. I loath 'd the wretch who sold his soul, then fawn'd For higher bids — polluting all he touch'd, False to the State, and to his buyers false. There Greek bribed Greek — I am by Per- sia own'd. Black spectral fingers reach across the sea, And with my bond forever lash me on. O Greece, thy stones cry out against my sin — Thy waving banners flaunt it to the winds ; The swords of heroes flash it in mine eyes ; The seas in midnight yells fierce roar it forth ; The hills to hills shout my dire treason back ; And the still stars and the great sun look down On me in scorn — so paid my pride and rage ! Enter a Persian Emissary, in a Grecian garb.\ Who goes there ? Stand ! PERSIAN. I come from Persia's king ALCANDER. Ho ! guard ! A spy ! ARISTON: PERSIAN. Be still, or thou art dead ! ALCANDER. What means thy threat ? So near our camp, my word Will flash around thy heart ten thousand spears. PERSIAN. This scroll, Alcander, is thy pass to me. ALCANDER. I know thee not' — a lie 1 PERSIAN. "Tis truth, false Greek. ALCANDER. What, this to me, and here ! I'll have thy life. PERSIAN. Nay ! pause 1 put up thy sword, and note This parchment in my hand — my helm * and shield ! It will ward off from me aE Greece, and thee — These lines of thine would stir your camp to storm, And bring upon thy head an army's wrath. ALCANDER. Thy riddles cease, and tell what tempts thee here ! PERSIAN. Behold thy bond — thy name, thy seal, thy pledge ! Redeem thy promise to the king of kings ; Take this our gold, your allies buy, and give Greece to our arms ! ALCANDER. Nay ! slave, hand me my bond, Or feel my sword ! I'll tear my infamy To " shreds, and scatter to the winds its proofs ! My bond, or death ! Ho ! guards ! fall on this spy ! Give me my bond ! PERSIAN. Be not too fast, my Greek ! This is the copy of thy treasonous pact, And if destroyed, out from our royal chest Would leap thy bond, thy ghost to haunt thy life, To scare thy dreams, and hurl all Greece on thee ! I dare thy blow, that on thyself would fall. And give thy carcass to the vulture's beak Cast out on lonely shores ; to furies send Thy shivering soul, and blacken thee with shame. Receive our gold, and with it do our work ! Dost thou consent ? ALCANDER. In evil hour, compell'd By flashing swords, I wrote my name from fear. But slight the deed, and vast the penalty ! Ye gods, no place for pardon to my tears ! Must I be goaded on by fate to death ! PERSIAN. See thou to that ! 'tis ours to claim our right. Tell to the Greeks our weapons forced thy name, And made a coward sell their liberties ! This more than treason would arouse their rage. Ariston and Ino are seen in the distance.} Behold thy chief ! Ha! how thy color flies ! One word of mine to him will seal thy doom. Thy path is plain ! fulfill thy bond, or die ! ALCANDER. Soft, Persian, soft ! stand back ! we will retire Deep in the wood, and there talk o'er our plans. I'll take your gold ! I only tested thee. To prove thee from the king. Greece I do hate, And yon vain boy, her chief — to ruin both, I dare eternal flames hot as my pride. [Alcander and the Persian withdraw, white Ariston and Ino enter together. INO. Ere you left Greece, when training for the games, Who was the slave that waited in your tent— A rosy boy ? A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. A fool will risk his life before his time ; I choose to save my lips, and teach the men Who else would dig for truth and me a grave. ARISTON. Born, Master, in my breast new life and hope; Yea, pluming there a new immortal wing, Whose soaring strength shall bear me o'er the clouds To Him who is the spring and sum of all- Eternal essence bright of truth and love. I will go hence with cheerful step to war, And win the crown of a self-conquer'd soul — Now heav'n's own warrior arm'd in steel and brass Wrought by no mortal hands, and fit for gods, And flashing far the beams which dazzle foes. SCENE II.— The Court of Persia. KING. Greeks, I thought, stranger, never bent to kings ; Yet thou art down low a's my eunuch lies To kiss my feet. ALCANDER. 'Tis wisdom's part to be And do and speak as those with whom we live : Hence come this Persian garb, my words and deeds. KING. Thou art but here to sell thy land for gold, And hurl thy selfish vengeance back on Greece. With this thy end, to this thy acts con- form. Now, no disguise — if we together work, Each must the other know without a vail. ALCANDER. Not thus, O king. Athens forgot my life That sought her good, and madly ban- ish'd me. I hence thy royal power would plant in Greece, Which should prefer thy throne to rabble rule. KING. Ha ! all thy hope and wish to bless thy State, Which I had deem'd thee here to basely sell. Pure is thy aim to save immortal Greece From tyrant mobs, and not avenge thyself! Yet, if the shell had not thine exile made. Who more than thee had stood against our arms ? Nay ! own the truth — thy pride, thy rage have moved To draw my fleets and troops to Attica, And with my Persian scepter scourge thy land. A traitor always vails his reason's eye To make his head false as he knows his heart. ALCANDER. O king, with insults thou hast met my plans. A Grecian sword may find a Persian heart Beneath a monarch's robe. KING. Just what I thought — He who his country sells, will murder him Who buys — most false to both — all for himself — Cold as the gold he grasps, or hot his rage. As his own purpose serves. ALCANDER. O king, I go— No Grecian can endure thy Persian pride — Before I know this blade will leap to thee. KING. Stand, traitor, stand ! thou hast no more a will ! Stay there thou must, and do thy prof- fered work. Keep in that spot! move not from it a space Wide as a hair above thy plotting brain ! Behold these spears which bristle round my throne, Whose glittering points cry thirsting for thy blood ! ariston: Where wilt thou go ? Who barters off for hate, Or gain, the soil, base Greek, which gave him birth, No more a country has, nor can have friends. Cursed by the sold, and scorned by those who buy, Nought he can call his own, but his black heart — A mean and loathsome waif upon the world. ALCANDER. I will not bear thy words, O king, but leave Thy face and court. KING. Stay, Grecian ! thou must stay ! Here is this bond, and it must have thy name ! ALCANDER. I will not sign ! KING. Thou shalt ! ALCANDER. Never, O king — But I will tear the deed, and fling about Thy throne its rent and scatter'd parts, and tell Thee to thy face I will not write my shame. KING. Brave Greek, we'll see ! Guards, draw your swords, and stand Around this wretch ! A hundred naked points Flash in thine eyes ! Thy name ! quick, down thy name ! Come closer, slaves ! Ha ! now the trai- tor shakes ! I see he likes not this bright gleam of steel. Alcander, 'tis thy bond — drawn by thy- self— By which you're pledged to give o'er Greece to me, While I to thee ten talents pay in gold : It wants thy name to make tb>e pact com- plete. ALCANDER. But should I sign, the act compell'd by thee Can hold me not. KING. That risk I take— tis thine To fix thy name. ALCANDER. Forced by thy guards, I yield — Circled by death, with swords aim'd at my heart, I write my name, but noC my faith I give. Escaped from thee, hence, know me, king thy Foe. [Alcander signs, KING. Wretch ! thou art ours ! thy flesh, thy soul, thy life Belong henceforth to us ! Go home to Greece ! Thy deed will follow thee ! Thy name subscribed By thine own pen, to Athens sent, will be A mortgage on thy treacherous neck, and make Thee do that which thou most will loathe — will chain Thee to our throne, a slave to work our will ; Though far away will move the hand we buy, And open to our gold the gates of Greece ; Or else will give thy carcass to the mob, And bring thy brother vultures on thy flesh, Clouding thy house with black eternal shame. We can not love, but we can use thee, Greek ! Thy land we hate ! our armies on her soil Like clouds have been dissolved ! Our ships yet lie All shatter'd on her shores ! Our trophies hang Above her shrines, her streets and tem- ples deck, And we will pluck them thence by force, or guile. Thee we despise ! thy race forever hate. Which, unsubdued, will overthrow all kings, And give this world to lawless liberty. We will pour over Greece, weak by thy gifts, 1 A Persian deluge, as when ocean heaves A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. ARISTON. Oh, blacker grows my life, supernal gods ! A father's blood spots o'er this moonlit earth, And that red mouth cries out, " Thou parricide ! " A sire kill'd by his son, as gives a tree Its wood to help the ax which cuts it down ; As wings the bird a shaft to its own breast. Yes ! I have pierced the heart which fill'd my veins — Have quench 'd the flame which lit my soul to life. But yet a traitor's that majestic form ! Those hands grasp'd Persia's gold! that head did plot The death of Greece — bent cringing to a king— A spirit held which hate has hurl'd to hell. Both shame and grief are in the drops I weep : The.father melts mine eye to filial tears ; The traitor turns its gushing floods to ice. Thus liberty groans up through death to light. Yet here, my father's flesh my altar now, His blood my sacrifice, I, Freedom's priest, Kneel down, and swear to fight till Greece be free. SCENE II. — A Tent in the Grecian Camp, •where the Archon and Generals sit in council. ARCHON. The trumpet's breath has call'd our coun- cil now To hear proposals from the Persian king. Shall Greece at all receive his embassy ? HEROCLES. What harm to see a tyrant's messengers ? Nor fear nor falsehood can impose on men. I must advise that we should hear the terms : If they advantage, ours will be the gain ; If they insult, 'twill rouse, and weld the States. CALOPHOS. I think with Herocles that we should know The foe's first aim ; nor should his pres- ence dread In his ambassador. Our enemy To see and hear will stir our hearts anew ; May wake in Greece more true and firm resolve. ARCHON. Are all agreed to hear the Persian speak ? ALL. Agreed ! agreed ! ARCHON. Herald, announce our will ! The Persian Ambassador is introduced.} AMBASSADOR. All hail, ye men of Greece most true and brave ! I have come to you from the king of kings, Who, like the sun, would shed his beams on all, And make a world in his bright smile rejoice. ARCHON. We have decreed to know thy monarch's wish, Supposing always nothing will be urged To hurt the pride, or stain the name of Greece. This understood, we wait to hear thy words. AMBASSADOR. My task is brief ! My king's compassion's great : He fain would spare your blood, and give you peace. Our arms possess your land, our ships your sea ; On yon high mountain-rocks amid the clouds Our monarch sits with Greece beneath his feet : White gleam his tents ; his millions flash round fear : An ocean he, an earthquake to o'erwhelm, Before destroying, sends you terms of grace : ARISTON: When you bring earth and water to his throne, He will recall his troops, except a guard, Impose slight burdens on your tribute State, And through his satrap rule o'er Greece in love. ARCHON. Tis not for us, who feel no" fear, to ask For grace : our trust, our cause and swords. Had'st thou made threats of chains and fire for Greece, She -would have scorn'd thee nence. We can not grant. Yet will discuss thy terms. The council now, When you withdraw; will interchange their views. [Exit Ambassador. Let the gods speak before frail man begins ! But heaven can counsel earth in such an hour, Which must decide the future of our State. Bring in the priest ! Enter Priest] Most venerable man, What say the victims, and the oracle ? PRIEST. I'll tell, ye Greeks, what I have seen, and heard : To eye and ear the gracious gods have spoken. White as the snow of Helicon, a lamb Was on Apollo's altar laid, and burn'd : The flame was bright — the blaze more pure than morn — Soon smoke curl'd up, and from its rolling clouds An eagle flew, as if 'twas born of them : Then flashing down, he sat with balanced wing On Delphi's pinnacle, and eyed the sun. This is a sign from heaven of victory. ARCHON. But, priest, have you yet ask'd the Pyth- oness ? She from her tripod tells what will the Fates. PRIEST. Before our Delphi's shrine, with streaming locks, With eyes that seem'd two sparks of lightning-fire. In whispers first, that rose to thunder- bursts, Mid smoke and flame, the frenzied priest- ess cried : When ocean conquers land, And the sun leaves the sky, Greece Persia will command. And Liberty shall die. {Exit Priest. ARCHON. These words declare to us our victory ; Yet is our peril great : it is with us Or life or death — 'tis chains, or liberty. Calm prudence sits in council with the brave ; And courage takes no risk that it can shun. Let each speak boldly what each freely thinks ; „ From various views is largest wisdom born. Alcander, tell us first what you advise ! ALCANDER. You, youthful chief, I'm sure, will under- stand That my fresh wounds may make my cause seem weak, Since blood drain 'd from the veins bedims the mind. Nor are the times propitious to my plea. Once Greece preferr'd gray hairs to curls of youth, And scars to boasts, and deeds to elo- quence ; Now heroes hide, and boys to office flash, While passion rules with wild impetuous sway. We seek not laurels, but the good of Greece ; Our aim not crowns for us,but life to her. Now what the truth? Our soil swarms o'er with troops [roll Innum'rous as the sea-waves when they And fling their fury on the trembling shore : A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. ARISTON.- By Jove, what mean you, Ino? You knew him not. ■INO. Indeed ! perhaps too well. With grace he brush'd your robes, and comb'd your' curls, And kept, mid summer's fires, your gob- let full Of water sparkling from the fountain's brim. Once, when your chariot with its lion- crest Whirl'd through the dust, and thunder'd by the goal, While you like Mars stood high with guiding reins And sounding lash, and Greece decreed a crown Around a head unknown, he pick'd for you The ivy from the dust, there fallen down, And bound it on your hair. ARISTON. How knew you this ? My brain is in a maze — it is — it is — But I shut out the thought. INO. In Lydia, too, When you had scaled a wall, and a fierce • blow Had dash'd you to the ground, that other slave Wiped off the blood, pour'd balm into your wound, And nursed, through weary weeks, you back to health. ARISTON. Ino, thou art a witch — in secret league With some supernal power — 'twas birds . of air Steer'd by the gods from Asia bore this news. INO. Feel here if I have wings ! they are not grown. May be I borrow'd his from Mercury ; Or Cupid bound his pinions on my feet. Again, at Tyre, the king, who gave a feast, Laugh'd at your fast from wine, and challenged you : Then your third boy, black-eyed, and mischievous, Who bore your cup, fell down, and spill'd it o'er, Ami saved your vow, but earn'd, oh! such an oath As shook Olympus on its mountain-seat With all its gods. ARISTON. If now Alcander's page. Why not once mine? A woman's wit will match A woman's love, and do what scares a man. INO. And when, return 'd to Greece, the grap- pling ships Like clasping tigers fought, and tinged the sea — You gaining fame that makes you archon now, Then, e'en as now, your name unknown to Greece — Who near your side did watch each manly blow, And spread upon the deck beneath the stars A couch where evening winds touch'd light your cheek With envied kiss, and fann'd you as you slept ? ARISTON. Ino, I see it all — 'twas thou, 'twas thou * 'Tis this explains the mysteries of years : I felt a sacred presence round my life — My angel thou — thy love in Protean shapes, And far-off lands — on sea and shore — found out My devious way, and track'd my steps, to save. Come to my arms ! Henceforth I'll wor- ship thee, And not the gods. INO. Archon, be not so rash — > The chief of Greece must not clasp round a slave — ARISTON: Alcander's page by his commander kiss'd ! Hands off! the act will hurl thee from thy place, And cost thy life ! See how I quench the flames I make so fierce ! Most meek the mas- ter is [drops To mind a slave ! But wait till victory Her crown immortal on thy conquering brow, And then, before all Greece, the slave will deign To touch thy hand ; or more, perchance thy lips. ARISTON. My soul, subdued from vice, may claim thy love : From habit's coil set free, oh, be my wife ! [They embrace. Each here to each we pledge our hearts, and lives. May Peace soon come to link in wed- lock's chain ! Now perils press — some foe lurks in our camp. Ye powers who made yon moon, and bent yon dome In starry glory round our circled earth, Our country watch, and girdle with your care, And for her freedom give us strength to die ! INO. Alcander is our bane — within his tent Are doves who daily bear to Persian eyes His messages. ARISTON. Thus knows our foe our plans Before their bud can blossom into flower. A traitor-presence seems ubiquitous, And yet is vail'd from our most search- ing gaze. Ye heavens, oh, must a son a father track Like hounds a covert fox earth'd for his death ! Helia enters, still crazed, supposing herself Ceres in search of Proserpine. — She is crowned with flowers, and carries bearded sheaves.] As long months since, ye gods, my mother comes ! . HELIA. 'Twas Pluto stole my dear — she lives in hell— Oh, weep, with Ceres weep, and weep and weep ! ARISTON. How can I bear this sight ! It tears my . soul ; More worn and sad than when I left our home ! HELIA. Sings.] O king 'of night, hear, hear my cry ! Give back my child ! A gloom is on the earth and sky That makes me wild. O'er hell's black mouth I scatter flowers, And fruits and sheaves, To charm you up, infernal powers, Where Ceres grieves. Send over Styx, send from your night My child to-day I Proserpine give to the light, I pray, I pray 1 Enter Alcander, who does not know Ariston as his son.] ALCANDER. Ha ! here my page ! Boy, I have sought thee long ! And Helia, thou — who brought thee to the camp ? The slave shall feel the whip who let thee loose. Both follow me ! HELIA. Pluto has come from hell ! My child! my child! oh, give me back my child ! ALCANDER. Quick, wife, and slave, or I will force you on. ARISTON. Alcander, nay ! thou shalt not be thus harsh. ALCANDER. Shalt, archon, shalt ! thy insults stain my name, And leave a blot thy blood alone can cleanse. [Ino rushes away with Helia ; while Alcander assaults Ariston, and falls insensible, after a brief, but, as it turns out, not fatal contest. A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. ACT IV. Scene I. — Tent of the King, in the Per- sian Camp. KING. Who art thou, Greek? ALCANDER. One thou hast seen Before, O king, prays from the ground, and asks thy grace. KING. Thy face" is strange, yet o'er my mem'ry floats An image of the past that seems like thee. Ha ! now 'tis plain — changed thou art, Alcander — Thy hair more gray, and much more bent thy form, And in thy haggard eye a fiercer look. ALCANDER. Have I perform'd my work, immortal king? 'Tis that made white my locks ; that shoot my nerves ; That kindles in my glance a wilder fire. Is not my bond fulfill'd — each promise met, And more, for thee — divided, Greece — her friends Bought off by me — she, cowering at thy feet ? No part of my old pact but fully met. KING. O Greek, 'tis true — the motive we'll not scan — Revenge, or hate, or what — thou hast for us Been active as the winds, fiercer than fire, And tireless as the sea. Our gold through thee Has poison'd Greece, until her bloated flesh Is falling off itself from round her heart. Yea ! soon our arms will push her to her grave, And with her bury freedom from the world. In her new archon all her hope of life. ALCANDER. Curse on his upstart head ! I'll bring it low. KING. He is thy foe and ours — take him away, And Persia soon shall chain the limbs of Greece, Forever fetter'd 'neath my conq'ring foot : No price to thee too great for such an end. ALCANDER. I ask not gold — I only ask my bond, Whose work achieved is now to thee no use — A parchment dead — a carcass void of soul, Its stench I'd hide away — a useless corpse To thee— to me a ghost most terrible, That haunts my sleep, and stirs up ugly dreams, And with a leering eye stares o'er my life. I want my bond— my bond — give me my bond, And thou, for it shall have thy pay in blood. KING. Alcander, thou art mad — thy look is wild — Thy hand clasps round thy sword with eager clutch — I fear thy ways. ALCANDER. My work has shaken me — In killing Greece I have unnerved myself, And her own specter stands along my path To torture me. See, there, it cries,' and . glares, And will not down until I have my bond To silence it— my whim's to get my bond — To hold it thus — to feel it in my palm, And scan it well, and know it is my bond. I'll give it to the fire — I'll see its smoke Roll offo'e.r heaven each token of the past. ARISTON: My bond ! my bond ! It will wipe out my thoughts, And cleanse my soul, and lay this ghost for me. My bond, O king! I say, hand o'er my bond ! KING. Thou art most fierce— thy reason is dis- turbs By these remorseful memories of thy life. How to us canst thou be answerable? ALCANDER. Give me my bond, and that will tell me how. KING. We will, if thou for it the archon slay : Persia will bless thee, too, with rank and gold. ALCANDER. What such poor stuff to me ! Nought but my bond ! The tiger says, what, to the silly kid Who gambols near his lair ? A spring, a tooth, A piercing claw ! then a low growl of joy As he sits gorging flesh, and stain'd with blood, While sparks fly out from his too eager eyes, And quivers with delight his spotted skin. 'Tis nature in the beast, und not his crime : He wants the kid — the kid was made for him — 'Twas right the kid should feel his hungry jaw.' So I, O king, first wrong'd by Greece, then struck Down by her chief, urged on by hate and fate, To my own self but true, will kill my foe, And thine. My bond give me, and he shall die. KING. It is not with me now, but three leagues off Lies in my chest — thy promise pass'd to me, I'll get thy bond, and tie it on thy dove, Whose wing shall bear it to thee ere this eve. ALCANDER. king, enough ! I trust to thee my bond : Send it through air to fly more swift than winds, And pass on clouds the lightnings as they wink, . Bringing across the pathless track of heaven To nestle in my breast my white-wing'd dove, Meek-eyed and beautiful, that bears my bond ; And back his mate will sail with. news to thee About his neck that e'en will turn to blood The skies along his way, make red the earth, And hurl down Greece to writhe in her own gore — While thou and I will yell to see her die. Scene II.— Alcander's Tent, in the Grecian Camp. — Ino disguised as his Page. ALCANDER. Boy, see this flame ! It curls up with a joy. And seems to say, *' Aha ! I love my work." Give it more oil ! INO. The lamp will hold no more, ALCANDER. Then with the bellows blow and fan the fire! Breathe on it, air, to aid me blast my foe ! It can not burn too eagerly for me. Note in the flask that small but shining drop ! Canst tell, my boy, what in its globe doth sleep ? INO. My master, no ! How could a slave guess that ? I am no alchemist,' as thou, to sway The shining stars, to bind or loose the winds, And raise the waves, or bring from herbs with fire A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. Can we beat back the flood ? When we can hurl The billows from the sands. 'Tis no dis- grace, If brave men yield, whose blood has flow'd like .ours, To save, at last, the State. Here, a weak few, And there a multitude — our coffers low, Against exhaustless gold — our discords fierce, While to our foe one will. Chains, fire, and death, If we resist ; safety, if we submit. Let Greece repose beneath the Persian throne, And catch the brightness of an empire's beams ! HEROCLES. Say, have my ears deceived ? or is it so ? Has Greece been counsel'd to crouch down a slave ? Shall she bring earth to kings ? her past blot out, And stain the glory which her fathers gave ? How blush their shades to hear from us, base sons. We can not guard what they for us have won ! Nay ! what they conquer'd we will now defend, Or, fighting, die ! a grave before such peace ! 'Tis said, our chief is young ! At least he's brave — He bares his arm to strike where age would yield. Twice in the games he won from all the prize ; Twice led our arms o'er death to victory, Till sea and land exult to tell his fame. Incarnate Greece lives in his form, and sheds Round glory where her hero fights, strew- ing With crowns his path to an immortal name. Are States disjoin'd ? 'tis Persian gold divides. Say, who, Alcander, scatters it conceal'd, And fills our camp with fears, and dark distrusts ? Wilt thou to m Persia bear demanded earth ? Thou carry water to the feet of kings ? Wilt thou cringe there a slave, where Greece will hiss Thee with eternal scorn? We'll never yield : 'Tis ours to fight for Greece, not give her chains, And bring a time, when, every fetter rent. Our race shall rise to universal sway. The gods choose us for freedom's mighty war, And in their strength is immortality. CALOPHOS. The powers above will smile if we will fight, Since heaven helps those to strike who will the blow. Upon our altars fires propitious blaze ; Omens to triumph point, and oracles, So that the gods will blast us if we pause, While men will call us cowards in their scorn. Raise, Greeks, the battle-shout of liberty ! When younger, I hurl'd down the rushing foe, And with his corpses piled our bloody soil : Again this wrinkled hand shall grasp the spear. And wave the sword — this whiten'd head shall feel The flashing helm where warriors strike and die To drive back tyrants who would chain our Greece. Let cowards shrink, and traitors counsel peace ! ALCANDER. Cowards ! for me this word ! — traitors ! for me ! Gray hairs a license claim ! Who dares to prove What Calophos would hint ? ARISTON: ARCHON. Alcander, cease ! No challenge I permit in such a place. ALCANDER. Swell not, vain youth, with pride ! Thy words beware ! Behold this wound ! Our eyes have seen it bleed. Thy flesh next rent may let thy life ooze out! ARCHON. Speak thus again, and I will call the guard, And chain thee to the earth — dare this no more ! 'ALCANDER. Dare, archon, dare ! An upstart thou, unknown, Till chance did make thee rule o'er better men, While in my veins the oldest blood of Greece. Who art thou, youth ? ARCHON. Thy son ! ALCANDER - . A lie! ARCHON. 'Tis true ! ALCANDER. That drunkard left my home, and died at sea. ARCHON. My beard has grown, and war has bronzed my face, From which time long has worn the lines of vice ; But here the proof ! Behold upon my arm A word traced there in infancy by thee — Nor loved by thee, although mark'd by thy hand — Ariston read — then on my finger note The seal of our own house set round in gold! HEROCLES. Nephew, come to my arms — the mist clears off — We learn why thus our hearts beat warm for thee, And for her son Greece felt such sym- pathy. CALOPHOS. Ariston, hail ! Thy voice, thy looks I know, And marvel thy disguise could hide thee so. ALL. Ariston, hail ! All Greece will answer, Hail! ALCANDER. Be still, ye dupes, nor trust the silly lie. Which time will tear, and fling in scorn away. Yet if my son, be his a father's curse ! ARISTON. Here to this council I unfold my name, Giving my secret to the ear of Greece, Lest it may perish in the battle-*hock. Wild Pleasure stain'd my life ! Love snatch'd from vice, — ■ , Watch'd o'er my way, and gave me back to Greece, That I, with you, may keep her free, or die. For her henceforth we live, ourselves forgot. Her form I see as when Athena lifts Through some dark cloud on the Acro- polis Her glittering helmet to the beams of morn. And flashes from the sun her light o'er all. O Athens, Sparta, Corinth, Thebes, be one ! Bury your strife, and here for freedom stand ! Soon then be'fore her glance will tyrants fly: A soul resolved is strength — is victory. Hurl Persia from yon hill — drive off hei king! Her fleets and* armies sink ye, Grecians, press'd Beneath the weight of the eternal sea ! Our deeds will move our sons to nobler deeds, Will thrill in songs, in brass and marble live, To glory shaped by art's immortal touch. Only from martyr-drops is Freedom born : The flames we light o'er all the world shall blaze, And in their splendor coming ages say — Behold the spot where Greece saved Lib- erty ! A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. Look from these eyes ; speak out from these cold lips Which here I kiss, and to this marbled flesh Give grace that rivals heaven ! Oh, smile, ye gods ! Oh ! he who hides in earth the form he loves Entombs his life, and makes the world a grave. She breathes ! she stirs ! I thaflk the listening Powers ! Scene III. — A Dungeon. — Alcander in chains. ALCANDER. Yegods ! my brain is fire ! my heart is stone. Wild horrors throng these walls ! What sights, what sounds Strike on mine eyes, mine ears, and shake my soul ! Grim, goblin shapes come creeping o'er my gloom ; Graves gape beneath, and spirits shriek above ; Old warriors seam'd with wounds, meek matrons slain, And mangled babes, with their reproach- ful eyes Look down on me, while furies rush with chain, And torch, and knife, to blast the land I loved. All Greece, with corpses piled, lies on my breast, Mid moans, and tears, with an eternal weight : , The cause — my bond, which signed me o'er to hell To do its work, and drive me on in night Across the Stygian realm, forever on — An everlasting lash to cut my soul. The traitor sells himself, and buys such joy ! This poison-drop for me, not him, my cure! Enter Ariston, bearing a lamj.] Out of my sight! This is the worst of all! The deadly snake more welcome here than thee. ARISTON. Father, forgive! 'tis Fate decrees our doom. ALCANDER. What, wretch, forgive ! that word I will blot out From memory, whence too I'd banish thee. Look on my chain ! who bound it to my wrist ? 'Twas thou ! Who pierced my flesh, and left this scar? Again, 'twas thou I Who sent me to this gloom, And on my forehead fix'd a traitor's mark ? « Ariston, thou! ARISTON. I can undo it all. And set thee free. To-morrow we must fight: We fear, not Persian arms," but Persian gold, And know not whom to trust. On battle's edge Greece trembles o'er a* sea of dismal doubt ; Chief, chief suspects ; and soldier, soldier fears. Show who is bought, and we will spare thy life, Forget thy past, thy name and place restore, And give its glory to our clouded house. ALCANDER. Let Athens die ! My hand would hurl, not quench The torch of blasting war. Her, ingrate, I Hate first, and thee the next, thou parri- cide ! Let Persia plant on Grecian soil her throne, And rule with iron hand our dastard mobs ! Should I accept thy boon, I yet would live On Greece's roll a blot, while thou, my son, . Would'st shine in contrast with a father's shame. ARISTON : ARISTON. My father, nay! do not suspect me thus ! I only seek in thine the good of Greece : She first, she last, before or you or me : Save Athens from the Persian sword and chain ! ALCANDER. Should I confess, you'd stand a traitor's son ; Tainted thy blood ; thy house and name a curse : Thy welfare and mine own would seal my lips. ARISTON. Thou dost relent ! Thy heart melts o'er thy son ! # I fall down at thy feet ! Oh, bless me here ! Then help me snatch from death im- peril'd Greece ! ALCANDER. Relent ! I do ! ha ! would 'twere with a blow. This chain which weighs on me doth save thy life : But shake it off, and know how soft my heart ! Relent ! I do ! as tigers mouth'd in blood. Relent ! I do ! like furies when they kill. Give me in peace my chain, and infamy ! At least my prison should be free from thee ! Leave me my cell, since thee I can not drive. Besides, where are thy proofs ? Thy quest presumes My guilt— .-that I need grace from Greece and thee. ARISTON. Too much we know — thy bond is in my hand, Borne through the air from Persia's camp to me About thy dove, to prove to Greece thy crime. ALCANDER. My hour has come ! my bond, with thee, is death ! This snaps the tie which binds to this grim earth. Alcander can not live if lives his son. My hate to thee, a babe, was prophecy — It show'd thee spotted with thy father's •blood. This drop my hope ! my all is circled here ! 'Tis on my lip ! I feel within its fire ; It burns my brain, and turns my veins to flame: Thy work, my son ! These death-pangs, all, from thee ! My slayer thou, I gasp to curse thy soul, And leave in death eternal hate for thee. [Dies ARISTON. Oh, this, indeed, is death ! His touch, like stone, Chills on my flesh— about him all is ice ; His limb, cold as the chain that binds it round ! In this dim flame his eyes stare on me hate, And on his lip stands yet his lingering curse. His guilty soul breathes horror through this cell ! Oh, wretched son, to have so ill a sire ! Athene, from these clouds shine forth on Greece ! Our hearts unite ! hurl ruin on our foes ! Let morning shake them with a mortal dread, And evening see them driven from our soil, While victory binds round Greece immor- tal beams In which far ages shall exult o'er earth ! A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. ALCANDER. Their sleeping powers that cure, or kill for thee. ALCANDER. In Persia I learn'd that, from an old sage Who read the heavens e'en as the books •he wrote, And moved to life, or death, the elements. His hair was snow, but then his eye was flame, And to his glance all hidden things stood plain. He taught me how to make yon glittering drop, Where life and death are lying side by side — There Persia's fate, and there the fate of Greece — All in a drop — a little sparkling drop — To me, above all gold, or Asian gems. Boy, I am free ! See if the dove has come ! INO. [Standing- at the tent door. The moon is up, just lifting from the sea. Oh, quick she climbs above the summer mists, Flinging across the waves her track of beams Aloft from heaven — but in her light flies nought — All void,, and motionless the moonlit air. ALCANDER. Thou liest, slave — look out with sharper gaze. I can not leave my fire — no, not for my bond, Which is by me less wish'd than this sweet drop. The bond ! the drop ! dear, types of life and death. What dove is missing now from out our cote? That is the darling that will bring me rest. INO. He is a Syrian dove, and of the flock I noted him the king. No arrow shot From bright Apollo's bow, wing'd with his beams. Will fly more swift and true than he will bear Thy message to thy tent. A noble bird ! His full and swelling breast with silver'd hues Gleams like the moon. His pointed pin- ions seem As made to outspeed winds. Oh, round his neck, And sailing on the air, Alcander's fate ! INO. Why is it, master, that our Grecian doves All fly but to and from the Persian camp? ALCANDER. What means that, boy? Stand here before this flame ! A guileless soul is beaming from thy face, Although it sometimes seems as from the past. Thy glance is clear ! Be still ! ■ I wish no words ; My trust is in thine eyes, and not thy lips. If false, thy heart shall quiver on this steel. INO. How thou dost scare thy slave ! E'en in thy dreams Thy teeth will gnash — thy words freeze o'er my blood. ALCANDER. What hast thou heard me say? tell, on thy life ! INO. Last night, when cried the watch the hour of three, The lamp was low : while I toss'd on my bed, In the dim ray, I saw thee work thy face, And grind thy jaw — thine eyes stood from thy head — Thy hands were clasp'd, and round thy limbs did twist In agony, and from thy breast came moans. ALCANDER. Boy, 'twas a dream, and yet its torment dire: The moon pass'd o'er the sun fringed round with flame, ARISTON: And darkness sat on earth with twilight mix'd ; The stars next turn'd to blood, and whirl- ing fell Caught in a comet's hair, while all the sky Seem'd like my shriveling bond — birds sought their boughs, And beasts cower'd to their dens — the bat came forth, And hooting owl, and shapes stalk'd through the gloom. Then on her cloud Athena grasp'd her helm, And shook her snakes at me to twist and hiss: She seized my hair ! she flung me from the sky, While monsters swarm'd o'er Greece to tear my flesh. But, boy, enough ! Look for the bird once more ! 1NO. I see it cross the moon ! it comes ! it comes ! I hear its wings ! It circles o'er our tent ! • ALCANDER. Quick ! slave, quick ! quick ! I can not leave my fire ! Take from the dove my bond, and bring it here ! It is thy life ! without my bond, come not! [Ino goes to the dove, and untying the bond, flings it behind the tent to Ariston, and brings a blank piece of paper to Alcander. INO. My master, all is right ! Here is thy bond ! I knew our Syrian bird was true of wing. ALCANDER. Here, slave, here, quick ! I want to grasp my bond. Thanks to the gods! I'm safe if Persia falls. And Grecian eyes should search her con- quer'd camp I My bond will not betray ! Once in this light I'll read it o'er, and give it to the flames ' To roll away my infamy in air. [He opens the paper in the lamp-lifht. 'Tis blank ! I'm duped ! the villain king's a cheat ! He lied— the Fates are at my throat to clutch, To kill— the ghost of Greece looks glaring there ! Slave, art thou false? Come, find my bond, or die ! INO. Master, oh, blame not me ! I wrong thee not! I took that from the dove tied on his neck, And brought it thee. ALCANDER. Out, slave ! search for my bond With me ! bring forth the lamp, and find the dove ! [They go out of the tent together, and while look- ing around, Ariston enters from behind with • Soldiers. ARISTON. We seize Alcander in the name of Greece. ALCANDER. Back, I say, back ! nor dare to touch my flesh! Base slave who sold' my blood, I hurl thee ' down. [Alcander fiings Ino to the ground. Come on ! come all ! I chains and Greece defy ! Mean upstart, I will never yield to thee ! You stand, and fear, and own my better blood. Your fetters shall not bind Alcander's [After a short, but severe struggle, Alcander i'j bound, and forced away, ARISTON. My Ino sinks, struck by my father's hand ! Oh, live, my heart, or I will die with thee ! Now from the stream I'll bathe her cold white brow. Bring back, ye glistening drops, her life to me ! Start, start one pulse to give this cheek its bloom ! Ino ! Ino ! hear thy Ariston's voice ! Come, spirit, back, and dwell in this fair clay ! A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. ACT V. Scene I. — A Grove, before a Temple of Minerva. ariston. I am once more a Greek, and joyance leaps On through my blood fresh as this morn- ing air. Whose bosom throbs to fill the world with life. The }ug is o'er for Greece, and me ; and hence. Like some sad Jew, I'll live no more on groans : Our manhood grows but in the light of j°y- INO. Right glad am I, Ariston, at thy words : Old thou before thy time — a Greek is gay, Lives like a bird whose pulse has thrills of glee, And sings each day, as if no next would be. ARISTON. Ino, I've had enough to sober me — A father's death, a mother's wreck, the wars Of struggling Greece — INO. Hush ! hush ! the shadow comes — ARISTON. And then the^attle to subdue myself— INO, Enough : I'll run away — with kisses stop Thy mouth, and thrust thy sadness down, and keep It down from me. Go seek the crown in games, Chase on the hills the boar, smile at thyself Hung in the "Clouds" to make thy neighbors laugh : Romp, joke, and play the fool; but do not sigh. Woman loves sunshine in the eye of man, Has faith in him who in himself has hope, Wants not dry trunks, but trees, stately and strong. That lift aloft with joy their tops to heaven, To screen her, shrinking, from the storm and sun. ARISTON. Well done, philosopher ! Plato, avaunt — Sell off thy cloak, and give to us thy groves — Us, partners hence in wisdom's gainful tradei INO. Ariston, nay, before I join with thee In teaching* Greece, my tyro, tell me first, Tell, was it I, or not, who track'd thy step, And follow'd like a ghost to watch thy ways ; Or others paid by me to bring report. ARISTON. Young wise-cloak it was thou — a pretty boy, [glee. Graceful and trim, and spicing life with INO. I say not it was I — but this I think, Her air was manly if her cheek were smooth — Ah ! once, twice, thrice, she changed her look and name, And e'en thyself did rival in the camp. And took from thee almost the soldiers* hearts, Who stroked her sunny locks, pull'd out her curls, Said heayen began a girl, then made a boy; While, swaggering, she did joke more than they all. ARISTON. • _ My Ino, stop— that was not, was not thou ? INO. Strange if that boy had won thy place and fame : Thine Ino might have stood instead of thee AR ISTON To please in marble's white the eye of Greece. ARISTON. Do say no more ! Draw o'er those days a vail ! INO. Ariston, that the woman wakes in me. I have no blush for what I did for thee. Was I unsex'd ? that monster horrible, A man in woman's form ? a spirit male, With female nerves, and voice that squeaks out thoughts To show in flesh and soul eternal jar ? Love sanctified the deed, preserved my sex. Look on my cheek ! there sits a woman's bloom ! Gaze in my eye ! there beams a woman's light ! Search through my heart ! there lives a woman's love, And my whole nature glories in itself. ARISTON. Right, my brave girl, my guide, and better part! I more than thee should boast the blessed deed. A truce ! a kiss ! INO. My lips are thine ; then take Thine own — there — there. Be hence a wiser boy ! ARISTON. Give me thy page's dress, and it shall hang High o'er Minerva's shrine, a gift of love To heaven from me, and dear next to thyself. INO. Sober, once more — but did I say 'twas I Who follow'd thee? Well, now I'll take it back. I joked, I lied — it was some other dunce Who loved thee much — moonstruck — by Cupid hit — Perhaps my shade, that left myself behind In Greece, to glide o'er earth to find its mate ; And jealous keep him in her watchful eye. Trust not too much 'twas I, for, over- fond, I'd make thee sick, and tire thee of my love. Since men in us like coyness more than sighs, And value what they think they may not get. But see thy mother, there ! Smiles leave us now : She seems a form in which the gods breathe grace, Pleased to behold a matron's dignity. Enter Helia.] * HELIA. I've pass'd hell's mouth, and Styx, and Pluto seen, To get my child, and come back to the day. All earth I've search'd, and walk'd on ocean's floor, Olympus climb'd, and thence stepp'd into heaven To ask from Jove my child, my lost, lost child ! INO. Look, Helia, here 1 HELIA. Strange ! strange ! that voice I know, And it is like the murmur of the sea So sad in shells, or moans along the shores. INO. I Ino am ! helia. m . Oh, yes ! that name I've heard — It floats up from the past. A cloud lifts from My memory. ARISTON. O mother 1 I'm thy son ! HELIA. How dear that tone, and how familiar too! 'Tis like Ariston's prattle when a child, More manly grown. There, there I see him now — His curls, his dress — my boy, yes, 'tis my boy! ARISTON. Our Helia ! mother, look ! Ariston I ! Oh, touch my face, and gaze into my eye, And know thy son ! A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. 643 HELIA. Yes, and 'twas thee I've seen In marble stand along the Agora : My boy was flesh, not stone. INO. Our Helia, nay ! These were his images placed there by Greece ; This is thy son, thy true, thine only son ! HELIA. Here ! let me touch thy hand, and feel thy face ; My fingers tell my brain more than mine eyes. The same ! the same ! he who in marble stood ! My son in flesh ! I've found my boy, my boy! My gloom is gone ! I see a light like day ! Ariston, thou, and Ino by thy side ! I know you both, and take you to my heart. [All embrace. The world is fill'd with joy too great for life. Athene, goddess, from yon temple look, And hear my words — to thee I vow myself, And for thine altar promise grateful lambs, While heaven and earth glow o'er with light and song ! Enter Girls and Boys, garlanded, -mho dance, singing, around Hblia, Ino, and Ariston.] Hail, son of Greece ! once like Mars in the , morning Bursting through battle-clouds, red to the sight ! Now peaceful o'er heaven thy glory adorning Sends wide round the earth the beams of thy light ! Hail, son of Greece ! we beheld thee stand lashing Thy steeds from thy car, on-whirl'd to the goal; And then in the sun thine olive-crown flashing Up to the skies made our plaudits to roll. Hail, son of Greece! when the Persian's mad minions Bore torch and chain to the land that we love, Thou seem'd an eagle hurl'd swift on his pinions Down from his mountain-nest, scaring the dove. Hail, son of Greece ! bright around thee thy glory As that on the heads of heroes doth shine : Ariston shall live in song and in story ; Immortal with Greece his name shall entwine. Scene II. — A Porch before the Temple of Jupiter, in the midst of a Grove, HEROCLES. Hdw bright Apollo drives his steeds • to-day, That earth and sky may smile in light on Greece ! The air breathes joyous life! the sea- waves dance ; Sweet flowers from brilliant leaves give, grateful scents ; The very birds seem glad, and azure- crown'd Hymettus in his love stands kissing ■heaven. CALOPHOS. Some Power unknown has thus hurl d off our foe. Who more than Jove deserves a temple here J Be thanks to Him who sits .throned o'er our gbds ! One day the Persian's arms are girdling Greece ; The next, on land sees but Ms ghastly dead. And strewn upon the sea his shatter'd ships. ARISTON. But terrible the price of liberty ! Brave Aristippus, Philippon the true, Iolo, with the shades! With batter'd helm, And shield, and spear-pierced through the neck, the first I saw beneath a Median's foot pour out his life. The next, on snorting horse, whose eye shot fire. ARISTON Was, dangling, hurl'd far On amid the foe, Where Syrian darts in clouds hid from my view. Iolo, O ye gods, how hard his fate ! I saw him stagger, fighting as he fell, Gash'd o'er with wounds, and striking to the last, Till on the earth, a Persian cleft his head, And toss'd, in hate, it gory through the air. May such a sight no more salute mine eyes { CALOPHOS. Well, now 'tis o'er— the dead beyond recall ; And it is Ours in joy to give our thanks. ARISTON. Ah t master, know that I have paid thy debt. Who press'd my back — as once I lay on his — Than I a heavier weight — with shorter legs But bigger calves— enough to tire an ox — Pursued by Persian wolves who wish'd his flesh — And groaning like some school-boy in the spring O'er-stuff d with fruit ? I will not tell his name. CALOPHOS. Ariston, truce, and keep thy secret well, Or both of us will dangle from the " Clouds." HEROCLES. And, nephew, I must cut thy brilliant plumes Before the players tear them on the stage, While Greece laughs at the man who saved her life. Thy youth appear'd, in one mad charge of thine, Hurling a handful on a Persian horde ; And up the hill, besides, thy murderous rush. ARISTON. The only test of war is victory ; That gives a crown where we deserve an ax. Our hope was not in flesh ! it was in SOULS. Muscle to muscle match'd, and man to man, And ship to ship, we were a few mad boys Striving to Hurl away the ponderous sea. Our will, and not our arms, our glory gain'd. One soldier strong in love to Greece is like A god in heaven's immortal panoply ; And they who first stood firm 'gainst Persian gold Were then 'gainst Persian power invin- cible. Besides, despair but wins by boldest deeds : The onward snowflakes make the ava- lanche ; The onward flames will mountains wrap in fire. HEROCLES. Ariston, 'tis well said ; and on the stage May Greece prove kind to thee as I am now! But, see ! there come the spoils of Jupiter ! Well may our joy burst to exultant shouts. ARISTON. Yea ! let these trophies stir the heart of Greece And loose her lip to shake the dome of heaven ! Enter People and Soldiers, bearing the spoils of battle. — After a brief interval, they separate into a small and a large party, representing Greece and Persia. — Then, in a mock fight, the latter flies vanquished.] CALOPHOS. See there a tatter'd Syrian banner float Stiff with its splendid blazonry of gold 1 One Spartan snatch'd it from a hundred guards. There come the quiver of a Scythian chief, An Arab's bow, and a fire-breathing horse ! Behold a Persian shield round as the sun That flashes from its brass ! That Median helm With batter'd crest, sat on some royal brow; A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. * A jewel there burns like an eye of Mars — Beneath, the crown of a long line of kings ! Robes, girdles, chariots, arms — pile after pile- On sea and land our noble triumph show. HEROCLES. The crowd divides— on this side, few for Greece, And there, on that a multitudinous foe ! How loud the shouts ! How wild the mimic fight ! The Persian flies, while planted in his camp Our Grecian flag in triumph waves its folds ! Good Calophos, the trophies are prepared. Herald, peal o'er the grove a signal-blast! [The trumpet sounds, and all the people collect before the porch of the temple, -where the trophies have been piled. HEROCLES. Let all Greece bow while earth gives thanks to heav'n ! [All kneel. THE PRIEST. Olympian Jove, we to thy image kneel. And feel thy majesty, pleased now by blood. Thine, nature's crown, and thine, this lower world. m Thine eye beholds, thy power encircles all, While nations can but rise and fall in thee. From thy high throne of clouds regard our Greece, Accept her thanks for thundering on her foes, And to her soil eternal freedom grant ! The spoils receive we place before thee now, And smile propitious while we utter praise ! [All arise. HEROCLES. Now, Calophos, discharge thy gracious task ! CALOPHOS. For her whose vigilance was bless'd to Greece I Has been decreed this dove of Persian gold: The Agora to Ino votes the gift. ARISTON. To Athens thanks ! I'll give it to my wife. CALOPHOS. And here a picture set around with gems : A youth on flowers sleeps near a preci- pice. Beneath which roars a torrent-over rocks ; A mother sits beside her dreaming son ; Above I read these words in letter'd gold— " Helia's maternal love has Athens saved." ARISTON. My tears dropp'd on the gift attest our thanks. CALOPHOS. Ariston, taken from our battle-spoils I hold a crown for thine own brow decreed : Bright-blazon'd on its jewel'd rim I see — "All Greece Ariston calls Deliverer." [Ariston kneels, and is crowned by Calophos amid shouts of the people ; and then rising, speaks. ARISTON. My Calophos ! first honor to the gods, From whose immortal wings drops vic- tory, And in whose will men are but instru- ments. As their own gift we take the praise of Greece ; Yet I, amid these shouts, and 'neath this crown, Stand here to blush since I can boast no scar, While I see those who from grim battle snatch'd Not graceful wreaths, but victory with wounds. The private soldier bears the brunt of. war, And wins the garland his commander wears. There is a man whose arm is on the field! Another there who left behind his blood ; A R I S T O N. That soldier's eyes, cut into by a sword, Roll now in night and pain, nor see this pomp ; While, he, a sailor, on a grappling ship Lost both his hands, which, dropping, tinged the sea. Yon brave man's breast was pierced by Scythian darts, ' And from this vet'ran's flesh I pluck'd a spear. Then where our dead — true saviors of our soil? Go where the jackals yell, the vultures fly, To find their dust whose spirits smile ' o'er Greece ! High on the soil where battle laid them low Be ours to raise their monuments in brass Carved from their spoils ; and their immortal names, Stamp'd on our coins, and chanted in our songs, Hand to our sons, taught thus to die for Greece ! Eternal Freedom lives in martyr deeds. . m ^■.■js^c^rf ^^mm^M0m,