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THE PASSING OF PAN 
 
The Passing of Pan 
 
 A METRICAL DRAMA IN A 
 PROLOGUE AND FOUR ACTS 
 
 DWIGHT L. CLARKE 
 
 PHILOPOLIS PRESS 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA 
 
 MDCCCCXV 
 

 Copyrighted as an Operatic Libretto 
 
 April 27, 1911 
 
 BY DwiGHT L. Clarke 
 
 Copyright, 1915 
 
 BY DwiGHT L. Clarke 
 
 San Francisco 
 
 DEC -I 1915 
 
 'CU418130 
 
"O WE WILL GO WHERE PAN IS KING 
 AND DANCE IN HIS FAIRY VALES 
 WITH VIOLETS STREWN, AND CEDAR-SET, 
 AND LIST TO HIS WONDROUS TALES." 
 
THE PASSING OF PAN 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONAE 
 
 Pan, god of the woods and fields. 
 
 Mylas, a Satyr attending Pan. 
 
 Ganymede, cupbearer to the gods of Olympus. 
 
 Bellovax, chief of the Gauls. 
 
 Ardorix, a sub-chief of the Gauls. 
 
 Meld ^ 
 
 Neevo V Druids. 
 
 Werin J 
 
 Andraeon, a barbarian farmer. 
 
 Phtlidias, a Greek trader. 
 
 Silen, an innkeeper. 
 
 Alida, a daughter of Andraeon. 
 
 Thera, a Dryad. 
 
 Satyrs, Dryads, Gauls, Druids, Troglodytes and 
 the Children. 
 
THE PASSING OF PAN 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 The Edge of the Forest. Time — ^The Present. 
 
 ACT I 
 The Heart of the Forest: Early Morning. 
 
 ACT II 
 
 Andraeon's Cot in a Clearing of the Forest: Afternoon. 
 
 ACT III 
 
 SCENE I: A Mountainous Part of the Forest: Early 
 
 Evening, One Week Later. 
 
 SCENE II: The same: Next Morning. 
 
 ACT IV 
 The Oaks of Dodona: Noon, the same day. 
 
 TIME AND place OF THE MAIN ACTION 
 
 Greece in the Third Century before the Christian Era. 
 
THE PASSING OF PAN. 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 Scene: At the edge of a forest — at the back an opening in the 
 trees, with a by-road running through open fields to a city 
 whose spires and roofs appear in the distance. These have 
 a modern air, but the forest is wild and dense. A mossy 
 bank rises at the left. 
 
 Enter Tan from the left, playing a minor air on his pipes, cross- 
 ing slowly to the center. 
 
 Pan sings. 
 
 Weary am I, and dull-hearted; 
 Long lies the way through the mountains; 
 Dumb are the trees; and departed 
 All the sweet nymphs of the fountains. 
 Where is each gambolling Satyr — 
 Rough, roguish mates once beside me? 
 Hark! Is't their old boist'rous chatter? 
 Nay, e'en the echoes deride me. 
 
 "Great Pan is dead!" ran the tiding. 
 Mankind grew cold, unbelieving, 
 Scorning the old faith abiding; 
 Stricken, the wood-folk fled grieving. 
 Yet all im worshipped I linger; 
 Hoping some human still barkens. 
 Once more my pipes will I finger 
 Ere black Despair my end darkens. 
 Pan seats himself on the bank, plays a few bars on his pipes and 
 sings. 
 O, list ye, wrinkled sires and dames, 
 I'll banish your languor cold. 
 O come, ye prattling toddlers all, 
 And hark to a song of old. 
 
2 The Passing of Pan Prologue 
 
 Away beyond the setting sun, 
 Where purples the curving sky, 
 Is a wondrous land where I hold sway 
 O'er a people who never die. 
 
 The tree trunks there hide Dryads sweet, 
 Who peer from the branches shy. 
 And every day steal forth to dance, 
 Safe-guarded from mortal eye. 
 
 A little girl runs on timidly, stops near the edge of the trees 
 and watches Pan. 
 
 In ferny glades that stud the groves 
 Sport shaggy and horned men, 
 With goat-legs formed to nimbler leap 
 In gambols in twilight glen. 
 
 A little boy comes on at Pan's left, advances inquiringly, and 
 stands watching Pan. After a few bars of song, he seats 
 himself on the bank at the end distant from the singer, and 
 gradually edges nearer. 
 
 They haunt the chase, a merry rout. 
 And noisily frolic when 
 Silenus brews a punch, till each 
 Reels off to his mossy den. 
 
 A second little girl enters and takes the first by the hand; to- 
 gether they approach the singer slowly; other children con- 
 tinue to run on until there are ten or more grouped around 
 Pan. 
 
 The violet sward its scent betrays, 
 
 Like breath of a maiden fair ; 
 
 And each enchanted waterfall 
 
 Flings melody on the air. 
 
 At eve the moon lends witchery. 
 
 Its beams each bough ensnare, 
 
 The south wind in the pine-tops wakes 
 
 A nocturne that ends in prayer . 
 
 Children all clap their hands. 
 
Prologue The Passing of Pan 3 
 
 Children, in chorus. Isn't that a Ijretty song! 
 
 Pan. So, you like it? 
 
 Children, shyly. yes, sir. 
 
 Pan, to First Little Boy. What is your name, general? 
 
 First Little Boy. Tommie, but — ^but I ain't no general — 
 
 yet. 
 First Little Girl, hiding behind the others. What's your 
 
 name. Mister? 
 Pan, simply. Pan. 
 
 Children, in chorus. O what a funny name — Pan! 
 First Little Girl. I think it's a pretty name, Mr. Pan, and 
 
 — and it's like the song. 
 Pan, drawing her to his side. So you do? 
 First Little Boy. What's your other name — your Sunday 
 
 School name? 
 Pan. I haven't any — just Pan. 
 Children, in chorus, a bit awestruck. He hasn't any — ^poor 
 
 Mr. Pan! 
 First Little Girl, shyly. Won't you sing us another song, 
 
 please, sir? 
 Children, in chorus, joyfully. O please, please, good Mr. 
 
 Pan, sing us another pretty song about the wonderful 
 
 country. 
 
 Pan. Will you all be really good if I do? 
 
 Children, eagerly. Yes. 
 
 Pan. And not make any noise? 
 
 Children, louder. Yes! 
 
 Pan. You promise? 
 
 Children, shout. O please, Mr. Pan, yes! 
 
 First Little Boy turns a handspring. 
 Pan, to First Little Boy. And you sir? 
 First Little Boy, penitently but very rapidly. 
 
 Honest and true, black and blue. 
 
 Lay me down and cut me in two. 
 Pan. Very well, I'll sing to you about the dancing aspen tree. 
 
4 The Passing of Pan Prologue 
 
 • 
 
 Pan takes his pipes and sings. 
 
 Where earliest stirs awakening spring 
 
 From her couch all with lilies laid, 
 
 Tripped a fairy-like maiden, and sweet did she sing 
 
 Till a Satyr stole out of the shade. 
 
 The rogue caught her waist, with love filled her ear 
 
 Though she fought from his grasp to flee. 
 
 To a damsel like her what trait could endear 
 
 A rough goaty-limbed vagrant like he? 
 
 Loud she cried to the gods, "O Diana, I pray 
 
 Save a maid from this hateful faun!" 
 
 From Olympus the goddess, the mischief to stay 
 
 In a cloud enveloped the lawn. 
 
 "While you dance and swift elude," 
 Spoke Dian, "his pace you'll quicken 
 Nimbly whirling so delude 
 That the rascal's brain will sicken. 
 Ever trembling shun his touch, 
 Writhe and sway in circles bending; 
 Never fear his clumsy clutch 
 Ere your dizzy motion's ending." 
 
 Children dance. 
 So she danced through a timeless maze down the dell, 
 While the Satyr still ardent pursued. 
 Till the pitying gods on the maid cast a spell 
 And with branches her shoulders endued. 
 O white shone her skin, her bark is but grey, 
 And in silvery leaves hides her hair, 
 O her feet were like wings, would they'd borne her away 
 For a tangle of roots they now wear. 
 And still as an aspen she trembled and swayed 
 At the lightest caress of the wind. 
 Till a bevy of nymphs came seeking the maid 
 While more Satyrs ran frisking behind. 
 
 Ev'ry maiden rhjrthmic danced — 
 Soon the bark around her thickened. 
 And each Sylvan eager pranced 
 As the eerie music quickened. 
 
Prologue The Passing of Pan S 
 
 So fore'er the aspen groves 
 In the moonlight palely shimmer 
 Where the phantom Satyr roves — 
 Quiv'ring, bowing, shyly glimmer. 
 
 Children and Pan dance. 
 Children. 
 
 What a most peculiar kind of a tree! 
 What a very persistent goat! 
 
 Pan. 
 
 I was there myself in the company 
 And can vouch for it, every note. 
 
 Children. 
 
 He can vouch for it, every note! 
 Children sing. 
 
 And the maid turned into a green-boughed trunk? 
 
 What a horrible thing to do! 
 
 Pan. 
 Though it sounds like the tale of a Bacchanal drunk, 
 I assure you it's actually true. 
 
 Children. 
 
 He assures us it's actually true. 
 Dance ceases, Pan drops his pipes and sinks down on the bank 
 his head drooping; Children gather around wonderingly. 
 First Little Girl. Won't you sing for us any more? 
 
 Pan shakes his head slowly. 
 Pan, sadly. No, I am sick — sick and am going to die. 
 Children, in chorus. Die! — Oh, poor Mr. Pan. 
 First Little Boy. What's the matter with you, Mr. Pan? 
 Pan. I am sick because nobody really believes in me. You 
 
 laugh and dance to my songs, but none of you believes them, 
 
 and I must die. 
 First Little Girl. Can't anything cure you? 
 Pan. Yes — only one thing in all the wide, wide world. 
 Children, eagerly. What is that, Mr. Pan? 
 
6 The Passing or Pan Prologue 
 
 m 
 
 Pan. Someone must believe in me enough to promise that 
 he will follow me to the land I sing about, where there's 
 always sunshine and little birds singing, and green, green 
 woods, and beauty and joy and love. 
 
 Children, shout in chorus. We believe, Mr. Pan, O we be- 
 lieve, and will go with you anywhere. 
 
 Pan leaps up revived and dances, Children hanging on each 
 arm. 
 
 Pan. 
 
 O, list ye, wrinkled sires and dames, 
 I'll banish your languor cold, 
 O come ye prattling toddlers all, 
 And hark to a song of old. 
 
 Children. 
 O we will go where Pan is king 
 And dance in his fairy vales 
 With violets strewn, and cedar-set, 
 And list to his wondrous tales. 
 
 Children go ojf dancing. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
Act I The Passing of Pan 
 
 ACT I 
 
 Scene : The heart of the forest. A woodland mostly of oaks, 
 with some aspen, laurel and maple; in the half light of very 
 early dawn, gradually lighting. 
 
 Thera and chorus of Dryads, concealed. 
 Sweet are the hills with the breath of Aurora, 
 Rosy's the east with the glance of her eye. 
 Hither she glides with Apollo and Flora, 
 Hail we the dawning, let dark spirits fly! 
 Cool are the lawns where with laughter we frolic, 
 Nodding the hare-bells our rhythm assume. 
 Far from our wood slink all shades melancholic; 
 Breathless, we rest 'mid the sweet myrtle's bloom. 
 
 Thera. 
 Our trunks secrete 
 Shy Dryads sweet. 
 
 Chorus of Dryads. 
 
 beware of the woodman, — of the woodman! 
 Thera. 
 
 Each bud, each leaf 
 
 Has a life and a grief. 
 
 Chorus of Dryads. 
 
 the ax of the woodman, — of the woodman! 
 
 Dryads half reveal themselves in tree tops. 
 Thera and chorus of Dryads 
 
 Summer first spies us asleep in the dingle, 
 
 Softly she rustles the leaves o'er our heads; 
 
 While with her whispers our melodies mingle. 
 
 Drooping, its perfume the hyacinth sheds. 
 
 Aspen and alder with hemlock and laurel. 
 
 Cypress and cedar o'ertopped by the pine, 
 
 Waving and weeping in clamorous quarrel — 
 
 Each to be first on whom Phoebus will shine. 
 
8 The Passing or Pan Act I 
 
 Thera. 
 
 Our trunks secrete 
 Shy Dryads sweet. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 O beware of the woodman, — of the woodman! 
 Thera. 
 
 Each bud, each leaf 
 
 Has a Ufe and a grief. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 O the ax of the woodman, — of the woodman! 
 Sunlight strikes the tree tops; the lower woods remaining in half 
 light. Thera issues from a tree and dances, retires; other 
 Dryads dart forth from tree trunks and dance with her. 
 Thera. 
 
 fly, a base intruder comes. 
 Chorus. 
 
 To the trees! 
 Dryads //ee shrieking and conceal themselves within the tree 
 trunks. Enter Ganymede, sees a Dryad running toward 
 a tree and gives chase. 
 Ganymede. 
 
 Stay now, O fairy one! 
 Nor thither flee so fast; I crave 
 Your pardon for affrighting you. 
 And beg you stay! 
 
 Dryad disappears in the tree. 
 Alas so sweet 
 A nymph so cruel! 
 Another Dryad peers from a tree and Ganymede dashes 
 toward her. 
 
 But Jove is good! 
 A fairer far beneath yon oak ! 
 Ah maiden, wounded is my heart 
 And you alone can cure. 
 
 Dryad retreats laughingly into her tree. 
 
Act I The Passing of Pan 9 
 
 Ah me, 
 The wood has turned to stone! 
 
 Another Dryad appears and mocks him. Ganymede hastens 
 towards her. 
 
 But you 
 At least are kind. O hear my plight; 
 I seek great Pan, my way is lost, 
 I weary grow and fain would win 
 Thy dear arms' rest. Pray gentle be! 
 
 Dryad retreats into the woods with derisive laughter. 
 But no. How fair a form may love 
 Exclude! 
 
 Another Dryad beckons him and he crosses towards her. 
 At last I've found you, sweet, 
 My heart I'd offer were it not 
 Already prisoned by your eyes. 
 Ah, set it free that it may throb 
 To do your will ; 
 
 Dryad darts away mocking him. 
 Unfriendly groves. 
 Where Cupid's darts would harmless fall 
 From flinty hearts! 
 
 Sees a Dryad laughing at him from another tree. 
 Ah sylvan queen, 
 I homage pay and suitor bend 
 My knee to thee. Doth not Love reign 
 With Beauty here? 
 
 Dryad hides behind tree and mocks him. 
 Nay fear me not! 
 I'll woo you in your leafy frame 
 Till jealous grow the trailing greens. 
 
 He pursues her around tree. 
 See love doth light my weary feet. 
 
 He stumbles over roots of oak and sprawls headlong. Dryads 
 all peer down from tree trunks and mock him as he sits 
 rubbing his head. 
 
10 The Passing of Pan Act I 
 
 Thera. 
 
 Hidden we dance where no mortal may come, 
 You can ne'er hope to deceive us. 
 Tumble-heels, lovesick, how sudden grown dumb! 
 Silent? — his hurt must be grievous! 
 
 Ganymede. 
 
 Boughs interlacing, your aid I implore, 
 Shake down these fair ones so mocking. 
 Though for their loveHness each I adore — 
 Is not their heartlessness shocking? 
 
 Thera. 
 
 Sweet youth down-hearted, O waste not your time. 
 Wood flowers are freshest when blooming. 
 Seek not our conquest with passionate rhyme, 
 Wrinkles will come of your fuming. 
 
 Ganymede. 
 
 Heartless and lovely, a plague on their sex! 
 I am near ready to hate them; 
 But were they weaned from their genius to vex. 
 Whom would we have imitate them? 
 
 Dryads in chorus. 
 
 We love, we love, we love — not thee. 
 You shall, you shall, — not bind the free. 
 Go bid the lark his carol cease. 
 But think no more to steal oiu" peace. 
 We love, we love, we love — not thee. 
 You shall, you shall — not bind the free. 
 
 Shouting and riotous singing sounds in the distance. Dryads 
 disappear within tree trunks. Enter Satyrs with Mylas 
 at their head, skipping andfi olicking. 
 
 Satyrs. 
 
 Hither rolling, merrily we come. 
 Goats' legs are the lightest. 
 Sending packing old man Wisdom glum. 
 Folly's head's the brightest. 
 
Act I The Passing of Pan ii 
 
 Where the boars on autumn's acorns feast, 
 There we stealthy hie us, 
 For we love the tusked, bristled beast — 
 When he's roasting nigh us. 
 
 Shyly smiling through the shimm'ring leaves 
 Maidens sweet enchant us. 
 Then they call us horny-pated thieves 
 Of the hearts they grant us. 
 
 First Satyr. 
 What god from Mount Olympus lost 
 In such a sorry plight? 
 
 Ganymede, raising himself painfully. 
 
 Oh— 0! 
 Satyrs. 
 
 He groans, he moans, ha, ha, ho, ho! 
 First Satyr. 
 
 I' faith, our old friend Ganymede! 
 Satyrs. 
 
 'Tis he, 'tis he, a sight indeed 
 
 Is he. O welcome, Ganymede! 
 
 Shout. 
 Ganymede. 
 
 laugh, you idle rogues, but first, 
 
 1 come to seek the great god Pan, 
 
 To bear him word from Jove and take 
 His tidings to Olympus' throne. 
 Where bides he now? 
 
 Satyrs. 
 
 He comes, he comes! 
 
 Enter Pan. 
 
 Hail, Pan, hail! 
 God of the hills and trees, 
 Lord of the rolling leas. 
 Bow then each leafy limb. 
 Flowerets lift up to him! 
 
12 The Passing of Pan Act I 
 
 Rock, wood and plain. 
 Homage again! 
 Hail, Pan, hail! 
 Hail, Pan, hail! 
 
 Pan. 
 
 Well met, O merry mates. I see 
 An old familiar here. What news 
 From great Olympus' halls? And where 
 Is Mercury — you're in his place? 
 
 Ganymede. 
 Swift-footed one, he westward flies 
 To strain his vision o'er the seas 
 Far rolling to the ends of earth. 
 And thund'ring with the doom of Time 
 Beyond the dim Hesperides. 
 
 Pan. 
 
 What seeks he in that wave- worn void? 
 Ganymede. 
 
 An answer to the riddle grim 
 
 That daunts Olympus; whence the tramp 
 
 Of alien feet; the mutter vague 
 
 That sighing comes with ev'ry breath 
 
 Of sulky-curling altar smoke. 
 
 Pan. 
 
 A longer, harder way methinks 
 His winged feet will tread before 
 He plumbs that question to its depths. 
 You bring no other news? 
 
 Ganymede, confidentially. 
 
 Why, yes, 
 Draw near, I really should not breathe 
 A word, but Heaven's power doth wane, 
 I think, for only yesterday 
 While Venus combed her flowing hair, 
 She plucked one out as silver gray 
 As Luna's glance athwart the sea! 
 
Act I The Passing of Pan 13 
 
 Pan. 
 
 O fateful thread! You gossip well; 
 
 What more? 
 
 Ganymede. 
 
 And did you know that Jove — 
 Nay closer come, I'll whisper this — 
 That great Jove's thunder weak has grown 
 And scarce can shake the hills? 
 
 Distant peal of thunder heard. Pan laughs, Satyrs and Gany- 
 mede start, the latter guiltily. 
 
 Ganymede. 
 
 O mighty Jove, forgive my jest! 
 Pan. 
 
 Hast any more to tell? 
 
 Ganymede. 
 
 Nay none. 
 How fares the realm of rustling oaks 
 And lily-bosomed meads? 
 
 Pan. 
 O but indifferent well; 
 The gods cannot more feeble grow 
 Than faith among the people here 
 Who scoff and sad neglect our shrines. 
 But worse than all, these dreadful Gauls, 
 Who like a black cloud o'er the sun, 
 Came from the north to shroud the world 
 In savage gloom and woe, are mad 
 Again with conquest-lust and threat 
 Their neighbor Greeks, half friendly grown 
 In months of doubtful peace. They sow 
 Wild faiths with grewsome rites; their priests 
 Are bloodier than their chiefs — O Jove, 
 With lightnings from thy awful hand 
 Transfix this impious horde ! 
 
 Distant thunder heard again. 
 
14 The Passing or Pan Act I 
 
 ^ • 
 
 Satyrs shout. 
 
 He hears! 
 
 Ganymede. 
 Ay, Pan, Olympus too has seen 
 The vengeful Druids tirge their tribes 
 To war and pillage with the hope 
 To raise themselves by turmoil's reign; 
 And list — Jove's brow grows seamed and worn. 
 
 Pan. 
 
 Ay, may it well. It were enough 
 To throw the forest folk in fear 
 To have these warriors camped nigh. 
 Our groves polluted and ovir streams 
 Defiled, but comes there now besides 
 A brazen knave, barbarian. 
 No one knows whence, and steals a farm 
 Just where the fields the forest join, 
 And falls to cutting trees by scores 
 And himdreds at a time. Ah me, 
 The Dryads pale, then droop and die. 
 The wood-folk grieve, yet hews he still. 
 
 Ganymede. 
 O wretch to live on tears and death ' 
 
 Pan. 
 
 His name is Andraeon — 
 
 Satyrs. 
 
 Accurst 
 Be Andraeon and all his line ! 
 
 Pan. 
 
 Who sees the pine tree's graceful height 
 And gloating plots its crashing fall, 
 Who hears unmoved the rustling leaves 
 Of hoary oaks and with cruel ax 
 Their whispers stills — blind and deaf 
 Is he! 
 
Aci I The Passing of Pan 15 
 
 Satyrs. 
 
 Ay, woe to Andraeon; 
 Alas, the Dryads gone! woe! 
 
 Pan. 
 
 But come, what boots it thus to mope, 
 The earth's as sweet as e're to-day; 
 While sunny skies do counsel hope. 
 It best behooves the world to play. 
 And, Ganymede, lest you depart 
 Disheartened by our faces long, 
 I'll try if rude and rustic art 
 Can cheer you with a snatch of song. 
 
 Takes his pipes. 
 Mylas. 
 
 sing the song of Syrinx fair! 
 Satyrs. 
 
 Ay, master, sing! 
 
 Ganymede. 
 
 I beg you do. 
 
 Pan. 
 
 When first the boughs burst with the promise of Spring, 
 In the youth of the world, now long taken wing, 
 As I sped at the dawn down a path dewy bright 
 
 1 came all at once on a wonderful sight. 
 
 Just over the copse in the meadow's lush grass 
 With her arms full of bloom stood a radiant lass; 
 O her hair was the wraith of the westering sun, 
 And her eyes held the glance that her beauty had won. 
 
 "O dazzling vision sent 
 
 To shake a god's content 
 
 Pray hark to me!" 
 
 She never spoke but sighed, 
 
 And e'er the soft blush died. 
 
 Swift- flown had she. 
 
 Where close the pines tower by torrent and steep. 
 Through oak-studded fields and by mountain lakes deep. 
 
i6 The Passing of Pan Ad I 
 
 The maiden fled on, nor answered my hail 
 Till a stream barred the way in a wide, heathy vale. 
 "O tarry, sweet spirit; though shaggy my mien, 
 The god of the greenwood can make thee its queen." 
 Then paling, she cried to the flood at her feet: 
 "O Naiads pure hearted, your aid I entreat." 
 
 I thought her waist to clasp, 
 
 She trembled at my grasp, 
 
 But tardy I! 
 
 For where I held a maid 
 
 A clump of marsh-reeds swayed 
 
 And breathed a sigh. 
 
 "O reeds of the river, sweet Syrinx's soul 
 
 Is lost in thy tissue, — then echo my dole." 
 
 I bound them together, wind-fluted they spoke 
 
 And the soul of the maiden in melody woke. 
 
 O pipes of my fancy that soothe or inspire, 
 
 How sweeter than Orpheus' or Amphion's lyre! 
 
 Whose notes sounded cold with the throb of the strings; 
 
 From a heart ever beating thy rhapsody springs. 
 
 Where lisping runnels drip 
 
 From mossy-bearded lip 
 
 Of wrinkled stone, 
 
 When dull my spirit grows, 
 
 Or weighed with leaden woes, 
 
 I pipe alone. 
 
 Ganymede. 
 
 Adieu, kind Pan, 't were best to pass 
 
 With melody like thine in ear. 
 
 Goes of slowly. 
 Pan. 
 
 O speed you well. 
 
 What rout is this? 
 
 Alida. 
 
 O free a wretched maid, I beg, 
 Who naught would harm! 
 
 Loud noise and shouts sound outside. 
 Enter two Satyrs leading ALroA. 
 
Act I The Passing of Pan 17 
 
 First Satyr. 
 
 A kiss, sweet lass, 
 Were full reward for guiding you 
 To Folly's bower. 
 
 Second Satyr. 
 
 Ay, ay, a kiss! 
 
 Alida, turning to large laurel tree. 
 O goddess hid within, awake, 
 A maiden pleads a maiden's right, 
 O take me to thy leafy arms. 
 And rid me of these leering rogues. 
 
 Dryads appear in tree tops. 
 Satyrs to Pan. 
 No, no, we claim her for our prize, 
 The fairest nymph e'er graced the wood. 
 
 Thera. 
 
 Diana, hark, a suppliant calls. 
 And ruthless hands her waist entwine, 
 Release her still unfettered soul — 
 Oiu: trunks do many such conceal. 
 
 Alida. 
 
 O vision bright, that hope doth light — 
 Pan. 
 
 Peace all — imhand her knaves, ay, cringe! 
 
 Our life is rough, but we must know 
 
 The precious from the dross we find, 
 
 And knowing, keep our courses true. 
 
 Satyrs release Alida. 
 Alida. 
 O god or man, thou'rt merciful, 
 My more than grateful thanks — 
 
 Pan raising her. 
 
 Not so 
 'Tis I must thank you for yourself 
 Who binds us all by sight of thee. 
 
 Kneels hejore Pan. 
 
1 8 The Passing or Pan Ad I 
 
 * 
 
 To Satyrs. 
 But hence, you rascals rude, begone! Satyrs run of. 
 
 And now fair maid so far afield, 
 I bid you tell why come you here. 
 Alida. 
 
 The wilderness hath many lures 
 
 To draw my fancy far. 
 
 The dimpling knolls, the windy moors 
 
 To me dear comrades are; 
 
 For every flower beside the trail 
 
 Doth smile on me so bright. 
 
 The columbine and lily pale 
 
 Both fill me with delight. 
 
 I know each bloom on your blossomed boughs, 
 
 Each violet shy I love; 
 
 But most I seek the voice that soughs 
 
 Through the pine trees' tops above. 
 
 Full, free, with lilting swing 
 
 To my soul on Zephyr's wing, 
 
 Comes the message all will know: 
 
 "Love shall rule the world below." 
 
 Ay, Love is king o'er all. 
 
 The lark upwhirring from the corn 
 
 Doth whistle me to wake; 
 
 The black-birds, acolytes of morn. 
 
 Raise paeans from the brake. 
 
 So from the farmhouse drear I flee 
 
 To where the runnel purls 
 
 In shallows dancing to the sea, 
 
 Or down the granite hurls 
 
 A diamond-studded limpid veil 
 
 To hide a Naiad's face. 
 
 And clear I catch the whispered tale 
 
 As wild the waters race. 
 
 Full, free, with lilting swing 
 
 To my soul on Zephyr's wing 
 
 Comes the message all will know: 
 
 "Love shall rule the world below." 
 
 Ay, Love is king o'er all. 
 
Ad I 
 
 The Passing of Pan 
 
 19 
 
 While Alida speaks Dryads descend from tree tops, and with 
 
 rapt attention, slowly draw near and surround her. 
 Thera. 
 The wood hath won its own; ah sweet, 
 We take thee to our hearts. Thy soul 
 Is but an oriole untamed 
 And exiled from its branch. 
 First Dryad. 
 
 A rose 
 Unwilted in the dust. 
 Pan. 
 
 Nay, best, 
 A maid most fair and yet unspoiled. 
 What is thy name? 
 Alida. 
 
 Alida, sir. 
 My sire is Andraeon — 
 Dryads scream. 
 
 O woe! Disappear among trees. 
 
 Alida, 
 
 What have I done to so offend 
 The gentle band? 
 Pan 
 
 'Tis scarce your fault. 
 
 Aside. 
 
 Immortal gods, what fate grotesque 
 Gave such a child to such a sire? 
 The buzzard parent of the dove. 
 The iris sprung from mould'ring slime 
 Were not so weird! 
 
 Your father's hand 
 Much ill has done the forest folk. 
 And many a glade lies stripped and bare 
 Where fairy feet were wont to trip; 
 And many a Dryad's heart is still 
 That fluttered with the vanished leaves. 
 And so his name's a poisoned darf 
 To every sylvan ear. 
 
 To Alida 
 
20 The Passing of Pan Act I 
 
 » 
 
 Alida. 
 
 Too true 
 Your charge! O pity me — I'd spare 
 The smallest twig, but weak am I 
 To stay my father's ruthless ax. 
 Each tree he fells seems to uproot 
 Some fiber twined about my heart; 
 But deaf his ear to plaint of mine 
 When gold's the stake and trade is nigh. 
 
 Pan. 
 
 A forest curse Hes o'er his roof — 
 'Twere hard to leave the bhght on thee. 
 
 Alida. 
 
 O call them back, if you have power, 
 I'll plead my innocence to them. 
 And to the great god Pan himself 
 If he would heed. 
 
 Pan. 
 
 Enough, Alida, 
 Pan has already heard — Alida starts back, af righted. 
 
 Fear not 
 Nor flee, but to my words attend. 
 
 As sweet to the ear sounds thy plea. 
 
 As at twilight the song of the thrush. 
 
 And from part in this baseness thou'rt free, 
 
 Though I'm loath thy entreaty to hush. 
 Alida. 
 
 O then praise not the love that I hold, 
 
 Who can breathe but the breath of the pines, 
 
 For the heart in my bosom were cold 
 
 If the wood folk forbade me their shrines. 
 Pan. 
 
 Nay a love like thine own is too rare 
 
 For the Dryads to cast it away. 
 
 But as wood-god I ask that you swear 
 
 To strive the destruction to stay. 
 
Act I The Passing of Pan 21 
 
 Alida. 
 
 O Diana this vow do I raise: 
 
 All my life will I labor to save 
 
 Each green bower where the checkered light plays; 
 
 If I fail, let thy nymphs deck my grave. 
 Pan. 
 
 'Tis well; now ere you leave the glade 
 
 Draw near and take my gift, sweet maid. 
 
 Alida approaches. 
 
 Water, wood, and blood that flows 
 
 Warm and cold — fowl, fish and beast, 
 
 Moss that hangs and bud that grows, 
 
 Garnered from the west and east, 
 
 Shrub of frost and tropic bloom, 
 
 Eagle swift and venomed snake, 
 
 Wolves that haunt the forest's gloom — 
 
 All that live and breathe, awake! 
 
 All who hold great Pan in awe 
 
 Harken to the forest law! 
 
 Mark I now this maiden fair Makes sign on Alida's brow. 
 
 Thus her sacredness declare, 
 
 Thrice I write to signify 
 
 What harms her shall straightway die. 
 Alida. 
 
 O high your gift exalts my soul — 
 
 Diana, spur me to my goal! 
 
 Pan and Chorus of Dryads and Satyrs unseen. 
 
 All who hold great Pan in awe, 
 
 Harken to the forest law! 
 Pan. 
 
 Mark I now this maiden fair 
 
 Thus her sacredness declare. 
 
 Thrice I write to signify 
 
 What harms her shall straightway die. 
 Chorus. 
 
 All who hold great Pan in awe, 
 
 Harken to the forest law! Alida passes into the wood. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
22 The Passing of Pan Act II 
 
 ACT II 
 
 Scene: Andraeon's cot in a clearing in the forest. Time: 
 Afternoon of the same day. Along the edges of the clearing 
 tree trunks are piled, with clumps still standing of pines 
 cedar and fir. Andraeon's cot, a low thatched structure, 
 is at the left. Axes and implements of husbandry are scat- 
 tered before it. In front of the cot are a rough table and stools. 
 A high hedge screens the view to the right. Andraeon and 
 Philidias are sitting opposite each other at the table. 
 
 Enter Woodmen and Charcoal-burners, bearing axes. 
 Chorus of Woodmen and Charcoal-burners. 
 Pitch pine and cedar bough, 
 Heart of oak on ferny howe. 
 Crashing through the ravished shade 
 By our shining axes made. 
 Burn slow, lurid glow 
 In the murky pits below 
 Till the swirling smoke wreaths blow 
 The fame of the woodman's trade. 
 
 Leader. 
 Then strike, brothers, strike — 
 Thy blow to the bark deliver. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Strike, brothers, strike — 
 O see the tall trimk quiver. 
 
 Leader. 
 
 A tang of resin in the air — 
 
 Chorus. 
 Strike, brothers, strike. 
 
 Leader. 
 
 And by my swinging ax I'll swear — 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Strike, brothers, strike. 
 
 Then give us sturdy saplings bending 
 
Act II The Passing of Pan 23 
 
 'Neath our strokes that swift descending 
 
 Fill the air with din unending — 
 
 Strike, brothers, strike. 
 Chorus. 
 
 Dripping sap and withered leaves, 
 
 Winnowed by the wind that grieves 
 
 Down the forest lanes at night. 
 
 Wedges keen and axes bright — 
 
 All hail, rouse the vale 
 
 Till the echo swells the gale; 
 
 Brawn and steel shall e'er prevail, 
 
 And ours is the arm of might. 
 Leader. 
 
 Then strike, brothers, strike. 
 
 Thy blow to the bark deliver. 
 Chorus. 
 
 Strike, brothers, strike, 
 
 O see the tall trunk quiver. 
 Leader. 
 
 A tang of resin in the air — 
 Chorus. 
 
 Strike, brothers, strike. 
 Leader. 
 
 And by my swinging ax I'll swear — 
 Chorus. 
 
 Strike, brothers, strike. 
 
 Then give us sturdy saplings bending 
 
 'Neath our strokes that swift descending 
 
 Fill the air with din unending — 
 
 Strike, brothers, strike. 
 Andraeon. 
 
 Come, fellows! to the woods with you. 
 Leader. 
 
 Aye, sir, we haste away. 
 Chorus. 
 
 Aye, aye. 
 
 Exeunt Woodmen and Charcoal-burners 
 
24 The Passing of Pan Act II 
 
 PmLIDIAS. 
 
 You think your charcoal made of gold? 
 
 Three staters for a cord, indeed! 
 Andraeon. 
 
 'Twere cheap at thrice the price, I swear 
 
 No other wood you'll find so hard 
 
 Nor kindling half so hot a flame ! 
 Philidias. 
 
 Tush, tush, I know a dozen kilns 
 
 Much closer home, of better grade. 
 Andraeon. 
 
 And still you journey to my door? 
 Philidias. 
 
 Nay, nay, I always pride myself 
 
 On buying of an old-time friend; 
 
 Two staters for a cord I'll give. 
 Andraeon, aside. 
 
 A plague of locusts on the knave — 
 
 O if you press me hard, I'll split 
 
 The difference, add a half to two. 
 
 Enter Alida and Thera pausing behind the hedge. 
 Alida. 
 
 O why is the bracken so blithe as we near it, 
 
 The robins light warbling, the boughs all abloom. 
 
 The butterfly darting — O shy, joyous spirit, 
 
 His gauzy hues lighting the dim leafy gloom? 
 Thera. 
 
 Your vision in blessing, the gods have made brighter, 
 
 All beauty in living to you is revealed, 
 
 The dawn is more rosy, the summer winds lighter 
 
 And rarer the glory on mountain and field. 
 Alida. 
 
 O why like the sea do the changing greens shimmer, 
 
 Their olives and emeralds flash fire or grow dull? 
 
 Ye laurels bright shining and cedar groves dimmer, 
 
 O rustle forever my senses to lull. 
 
Act II The Passing of Pan 25 
 
 Thera. 
 
 In green garb his favorites the wood god disguises, 
 His love, all embracing, lends various hues, 
 And he who is worthy fresh beauty surprises 
 Till numbers bewild'ring forbid him to choose. 
 
 Alida. 
 
 Winds ofif the heather hills 
 
 Waving the broom, 
 
 Blow where your fancy wills, 
 
 Shedding perfume. 
 
 Straight to the heart oppressed, 
 
 Potent to calm. 
 
 Him who from strife would rest. 
 
 Give of thy balm. 
 
 Waft then to dungeon cell 
 
 Mountain-sweet air. 
 
 And the soul's tiu-moil quell — 
 
 Melted in prayer. 
 
 Alida advances from behind the hedge. 
 Alida, waves to Thera. 
 
 Sweet guide, my thanks — safe speed you hence. 
 Thera. 
 
 Ah, little sister, fare thee well. 
 
 Disappears in the wood. 
 Andraeon. 
 
 My child, whence came you through the wood, 
 
 And who just slunk behind that trunk 
 
 With all these nods and signs to you? 
 
 You know I'll have no mystery. 
 Alida. 
 
 'Twas but a Dryad came with me — 
 
 I rambled deep among the groves 
 
 And wearied, almost lost my way; 
 
 With song and smiles she led me home. 
 Andraeon. 
 
 A Dryad! bah! some hussy sly 
 
 Imposing on your foolish mind! 
 
26 The Passing of Pan Act II 
 
 • 
 
 ('Twas well you had no gold along). 
 
 Let not each wand'ring ne'er-do-well 
 
 Pass current on her word with you 
 
 For goddess, Dryad or the like — 
 
 They're all a clever, cheating crew! 
 Philidias 
 
 Indeed, I find much sense in that; 
 
 Why once when I — 
 Alida. 
 
 O father, no! 
 
 My life I'd venture on her truth 
 
 Who darted down the path just now; 
 
 Her heart lies in a green bay tree. 
 
 And e'en its rustling leaves give out 
 
 The melody of her soul. 
 Andraeon. 
 
 Peace! Hush! 
 
 I tell you there are no such things! 
 Alida. 
 
 O my dear father, could you but see 
 
 All the fair realms that surround you! 
 
 Lift up your eyes to yon cloud-hooded tree, 
 
 Does not its grandeur confound you? ' 
 
 Go like a little child into the wood. 
 
 Reverently tuned to its measure. 
 
 Then in some dim aisle the awe of it shovdd 
 
 Fire you its beauty to treasure. 
 
 Passion and greediness, fall from his eyes! 
 
 Then might the wood-folk enthrall him; 
 
 He who is blind can ne'er .hope to surprise 
 
 Wonders whose grace would appal him. 
 Andraeon. 
 
 And still of nymphs and fays you prate! 
 
 What has bewitched your senses small? 
 
 Have I not eyes, can I not hear? 
 
 Is my hair grey to no account? 
 
 My girl, I tell you once for all, 
 
 There's naught but lumber in the woods. 
 
Act II The Passing of Pan 27 
 
 Alida. 
 Ah well, we speak in alien tongues, 
 But still one boon of you I ask, 
 Are there not virgin clearings here, 
 Would fruitful grow beneath your plow? 
 O leave the scarred and bleeding groves 
 And husband fields of golden grain. 
 
 Andraeon. 
 
 Why labor I with hoe and spade 
 To coax a crop between the stumps, 
 When with my ax I quicker make 
 Three times as much and easier too? 
 
 Alida. 
 But father if — 
 
 Andraeon. 
 
 Enough, enough, 
 It ill becomes a foolish girl 
 To thus debate — pray leave such things 
 To wiser heads, a woman's place 
 You'll please to keep. 
 
 To Philidias. 
 And now you say — 
 Alida. 
 O gods my mother bade me hold. 
 My vow to you I've kept in vain. 
 Diana, lead a falt'ring maid! 
 
 Andraeon. 
 How now, again? Alida, stay! 
 Until I die I'll loud proclaim 
 With all the force my tongue can give, 
 There are no gods, there are no gods! 
 
 Loud clap of thunder sounds, all start. Alida raises her hands 
 to heavens in supplication. 
 
 Pan in the distance. 
 "Come away, come away," 
 Bobolink's singing. 
 
28 The Passing of Pan Act II 
 
 Come away, come away, 
 
 Whither he's winging 
 
 Out of the Hlac sprays into the sky. 
 
 High o'er the meadow his raptures to try. 
 Enter Pan disguised as a peddler, in a cap and long cloak, with 
 
 small satchel hanging from his shoulder. 
 Pan, advancing. 
 
 "Come away, come away," 
 
 E'er the brook chatters; 
 
 Come away, come away. 
 
 What in life matters 
 
 While in the purple pools speckled trout gleam, 
 
 And the azalea sways low o'er the stream? 
 
 Come away, come away, 
 
 Who's for a ramble? 
 
 Come away, come away, 
 
 Where the elves gambol, 
 
 Threading the maze of a sylvan quadrille 
 
 While other sprites fairy nectar distill. 
 
 Good sirs, all hail, and you, fair lass, 
 Who'll have a song from out my pack? 
 An obolus will buy each gem, 
 A martial theme, a minor air, 
 An epic from the Pythian games, 
 A hymn to Jove, a lover's lay — 
 Come all and name your choice. 
 
 Andraeon. 
 
 Begone ! 
 
 No vagabonds we'll harbor here. 
 
 We're honest folk about this farm. 
 Pan. 
 
 Nay, goodman, hear a song; they say 
 
 My melodies would marble melt. 
 
 And harmony is heaven's child, — 
 Andraeon. 
 
 What! words with me, thou idle knave? 
 
 I'll give you manners for your tunes! 
 
Act II The Passing of Pan 29 
 
 Raises his staff angrily, and brings it down over Pan's head, but 
 it bounds off without touching him and falls to the ground. 
 
 Pan, throwing off cloak and tossing cap aside. 
 
 And do you still deny the gods? 
 Alida, falling to her knees. 
 
 we are lost! Pray, father, pray! 
 Your impious act atone! 'Tis Pan, 
 The great god Pan! 
 
 To Pan, kneeling. 
 mighty one. 
 Whose breath bows trees like waving grain. 
 Forgive us mortals ignorant! 
 
 Pan. 
 
 Nay, nay, thou hast no need to sue. 
 Andraeon. 
 
 Come, come, no sorcery on me! 
 
 1 know you for a charlatan. 
 Ay, frown! 
 
 To Philidias. 
 Now see me pack him hence. 
 
 Advances toward Pan. 
 Alida. 
 O father, art thou mad at last? 
 He'll blast you where you stand! 
 
 Andraeon pauses. 
 
 Be still! 
 No smug magician with his tricks 
 Can beard me on my farm. A god? 
 A fig for all your phantom gods! 
 
 Pan. 
 
 Spreading oak and needled pinon. 
 Tranquil in the sultry air, 
 Loose your leaves upon my signal. 
 Shower them on the scoflfer there. 
 
30 
 
 The Passing of Pan Act II 
 
 Waves hand aloft; leaves from trees overhead fall in showers 
 about Andraeon until Pan lowers his arm, when the fall 
 ceases. Pan retires slowly. 
 
 And do you still deny the gods? 
 Andraeon. 
 There are no gods, there are no gods! 
 
 Pan. 
 Breezes out of far Arcadia, 
 Blow no balm to yonder churl; 
 Blight the breath within his nostrils, 
 And a tempest roimd him whirl! 
 
 Every tree within the forest, 
 Every shrub upon the fell, 
 Smite the smiter of my kingdom! 
 Torrents, boom to sound his knell. 
 
 Panther, ambush for his coming. 
 Viper, lurk beside his path. 
 Flying, creeping, beast or monster, 
 Haste ye to assuage my wrath. 
 
 Wretched poltroon doomed to horrors 
 Such as never tortured men. 
 Look! thy fate is close impending, 
 Lost ye'll be to mortal ken! 
 
 Exit Pan. 
 
 Alida flees shrieking into cottage; Andraeon glances uneasily 
 around and above him; Philidias who during curse has 
 retreated into the trees, returns fearfully to his seat at 
 table. 
 
 Andraeon. 
 
 A knave most queer, think you? 
 
 Philidias. 
 
 Indeed 
 I scarce know what to say; sometimes 
 I wonder if you're right, perhaps — 
 
Act II The Passing of Pan 31 
 
 Andraeon. 
 O pshaw 'twas but a wizard sly 
 And bolder with his tricks than most. 
 
 Philidias. 
 
 I'm not so sure — 
 
 Enter Silen running, stops in front of table, wringing his hands 
 and gesticulating wildly. 
 
 Silen, 
 
 I'm ruined quite, 
 Ye gods, ye gods, is there no law, 
 No justice left in Greece? O woe, 
 O woe. 
 
 Andraeon. 
 
 How now? What's this? 
 Philidias. 
 
 Who's dead? 
 Silen. 
 O woe is me, — my inn, you know 
 My little inn where neatly ranged 
 The bottles row on row, and hams — 
 
 Andraeon. 
 
 Yes, yes, we do not wish to buy 
 The place, — what fell? 
 
 Silen. 
 
 O sirs, just now 
 A horde of ruffian Gauls swooped down 
 And swept it clean as last year's bones; 
 The savages drained every drop. 
 And smashed my kegs and beat my slave. 
 And every shred of meat and bread 
 They greedy gobbled down. O woe! 
 
 Andraeon. 
 
 Did you not charge them for their fare? 
 
32 The Passing of Pan Act II 
 
 SiLEN. 
 
 I'd ne'er have served another guest 
 If I had hinted that they pay; 
 They vowed to skewer me on my spits 
 And crisp me like a capon fat. 
 
 Philidias, aside. 
 
 My money-bags, my money-bags! 
 
 'Twere well to get you out of here. 
 
 Glances about apprehensively. 
 Andraeon. 
 
 And you stood by and let the rogues 
 
 Despoil you so? I'd like to meet 
 
 The Gaul who'd dare to plunder me, 
 
 Or any Greek half worth the name, 
 
 Nor sapped by this degenerate age. 
 
 Silen. 
 And so? How long since you a Greek 
 Have grown, who came but yesterday 
 No one knows whence? 
 
 Philidias. 
 
 Indeed that's true. 
 
 Andraeon. 
 
 You publican, you mock my blood? 
 Why fool, I'm glad I am no Greek; 
 To tell the truth my line is sprung 
 From mighty peoples of the north 
 Superior to all you Greeks — 
 
 Silen. 
 
 No doubt! 
 Andraeon. 
 
 I've scant use for the race, 
 
 And oftentimes I sore regret 
 
 I ever took a Greek to wife. 
 
 Though that can scarce be mended now 
 
 Since she's been dead this ten year gone. 
 
Ad II The Passing op Pan 33 
 
 But to repeat: woe betide 
 The blust'ring beggar of a Gaul 
 Who dares to cross my path. 
 
 Fills flagon from jug of small ale and drains it. 
 
 SiLEN. 
 
 'Tis like you'll have your wish and soon, 
 The signs point sure to troublous times. 
 The Gallic camp is all astir, 
 No one knows what they plot to do. 
 
 Phtlidias. 
 I think so too. 
 
 Andraeon. 
 
 Well, let them come; 
 The first who wanders on my farm 
 Had best beware! 
 
 Raises flagon to his lips; enter Ardorix in war array, pauses 
 before Andraeon. 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 Ho, Andraeon! 
 
 All start violently, Andraeon shrinks back a bit and drops 
 flagon untasted. All remain silent for a space. 
 
 Andraeon to Silen and Philidias. 
 Well, well, this rogue is one of them; 
 I'll make short work of him! 
 
 Advances toward Ardorix. 
 How now? 
 
 Aside. 
 Come, come, I like him not. 
 
 Retreats to table, fllling flagon again and draining it. 
 
 Just watch me send him on the run. 
 
 Silen. 
 
 Go on, we watch. 
 
 Philidias. 
 
 Ay, cudgel him. 
 
34 The Passing of Pan Act II 
 
 Ardorix. 
 Come, Andraeon! 
 
 Andraeon. 
 
 Yes, yes, I come — 
 No, no, I mean what brings you here? 
 
 Advancing and retreating with each word. 
 Ardorix. 
 
 I'll tell you soon enough — come close. 
 
 SiLEN. 
 
 Now to him strong! 
 
 Andraeon. 
 
 Just give me time. 
 
 SiLEN. 
 
 You're more in need of fighting blood. 
 
 PhILIDIAS to SiLEN. 
 
 Perhaps he'll warm. 
 
 SiLEN. 
 
 Ay, when he's flogged. 
 Andraeon, crossing to Ardorix. 
 
 You called my name? 
 Ardorix. 
 
 Ay, farmer, twice; 
 I come to levy make on you 
 Of grain and fodder for my camp. 
 The boors about have played us false 
 And we are short for horse and man. 
 So ere to-morrow's setting sun 
 Ten wains have ready for my tribe — 
 Alida appears in the doorway of the cottage, pausing on thres- 
 hold at sight of the intrtider. Ardorix retreats a step 
 respectfully and a look of recognition passes between him 
 and Alida which is perceived by Andraeon. 
 Andraeon. 
 How now, Alida, what means this? 
 You friendly with a plund'ring thief 
 And savage, brawling — ? 
 
Act II The Passing of Pan 35 
 
 Alida, advancing a step. 
 
 Father, stay! 
 
 Ardorix, springing to Andraeon's side in a white heat. 
 What, beard a Gallic chief like this! — 
 Ah, thank thy daughter's presence here 
 That thy rash blood stains not the grass; 
 Their bones bleach many in the sun 
 On far Thessalian hill and moor, 
 Who dared to thus insult my tribe! 
 
 Out of the heart of the north I come, 
 
 I and my broadsword Frozen Fire, 
 
 Bred with the spear and the rolling drum. 
 
 Battle-lust bore me and Might was my sire. 
 
 As when the thunder assails the glen, 
 
 Heard ye the tramp of Gallic feet? 
 
 Saw ye the myriad fighting men. 
 
 Wolves on the foray and scenting their meat? 
 
 Swift as the eagle that sweeps the blue 
 Flashes our sword of avenging wrath; 
 Born to the earth we but take our due ; 
 Coward and caitiff avoid our path! 
 
 Sworn to the cause of our blood and bone 
 Under the oaks with midnight rite; 
 Only a death for a death can atone; 
 Thirst ye my blade and the foemen requite! 
 
 Alida. 
 
 Ah, hold no anger toward my sire. 
 Ardorix. 
 
 Indeed I'll not and he be wise, 
 
 And link no more my name with thief. 
 
 Nor chide you for a fleeting smile; 
 
 For Andraeon, I'll have you know 
 
 Your daughter passed me on the path 
 
 That winding seeks the village well. 
 
 Perhaps four times or five; no more 
 
 She knows of me. 
 
36 The Passing or Pan Act II 
 
 Andraeon. 
 
 Yes, yes, my child 
 Pray go within. 
 
 Alida to Ardorix. 
 
 You'll mind your word. 
 
 Retires into cottage. 
 Ardorix. 
 
 I charge you, Andraeon, take care, 
 Vent not yoiu" spleen on her for this, 
 Thrice heavy will my vengeance be 
 If she should suffer for a smile 
 She gave a chieftain of the Gauls. 
 
 Andraeon. 
 No, no, I swear. 
 
 Ardorix advances to table, helps himself to flagon of ale and 
 drinks. Spits liquor to ground contemptuously. 
 
 Bah, bah, what rot! 
 
 To SiLEN. 
 
 O, goodman, to your inn and draw 
 A better bumper from your vaults 
 Against my present coming. 
 
 SiLEN, running. 
 
 It shall be done, (aside) Ye gods, wherefrom 
 
 I fain would know! 
 
 Runs off. 
 Philidias, furtively. 
 
 I'll go with you. 
 
 Slinks away. 
 Ardorix. 
 
 Scant need have I to charge you more, 
 
 The provender you'll not forget; 
 
 But this remember: in these times 
 
 The woods are full of lusty lads 
 
 Who make no jest of insolence — 
 
 Guard well yoiu* tongue or lose it quite. 
 
 Small wish have I for further talk. 
 
Act II The Passing of Pan 37 
 
 Andraeon. 
 
 The grain shall be as you command. 
 
 Enters cottage, bowing awkwardly. 
 Ardorix. 
 
 This cowed and cringing mongrel Greek 
 
 Confusion breeds into my sense — 
 
 That fairest one his child! Ah no, 
 
 My brain's awhirl, it cannot be! 
 
 Oaks of Be'al, by the flame 
 From thy sacred shade sky-wending, 
 I invoke thy aid to name 
 What upon my sense descending 
 Cools the fever in my veins. 
 Heavy weighs my arm once eager. 
 O strike off the unseen chains, 
 Raise the dread uncanny leaguer! 
 
 Chorus of voices, concealed. 
 
 'Tis the voice, 'tis the voice of a maiden 
 
 Softly clear. 
 
 Strangely dear; 
 
 And her breath's like the wind, honey-laden. 
 
 'Tis a maiden 
 
 That you fear. 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 Shall a Gaul his valor shame 
 Only for a lass' smiling, 
 And resign a warrior's fame 
 To pursue a voice beguiling? 
 Ay there's witchery afield, 
 Every quickened sense alarming, 
 But — ye oaks! — I yield — I yield, 
 Fettered by some demon's charming. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Whose the eye, whose the brow, that enthrall you? 
 Fairest aye, 
 Witching fay. 
 
38 The Passing of Pan Act II 
 
 Let the spell that subdues not appall you. 
 Love will call you, 
 Own its sway. 
 
 Enter Alida. 
 Alida. 
 O man of war once more I sue, 
 Forget the foolish boast, turn deaf 
 Thy ear to harmless wrath, be kind. 
 
 Ardorix. 
 What boon could you ask, fairest flower of the forest. 
 That all of the earth would not hasten to give? 
 If death were the price, though my anguish the sorest, 
 The lure of thy lips would forbid me to live. 
 
 Alida. 
 
 Nay 'tis but thy heart that is touched with compassion, 
 The man o'er the warrior master alone. 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 Ah would that it pleased you that temper to fashion 
 Till fit for thy presence and worthier grown ! 
 
 Alida. 
 
 O think not so lightly I utter my pleading, 
 The father beset brings the daughter to tears. 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 Then maiden, through summers and winters succeeding. 
 While strong is my sword-arm, a truce to thy fears. 
 
 Alida. 
 No claim beyond mercy have I on your boldness. 
 Your word for my earnest, I hold you no more. 
 
 Starts to retire. 
 Ardorix. 
 Ah, stay, fair Alida, nor cherish thy coldness. 
 But list to my dreams of the one I adore. 
 
 Alida pauses. 
 
Act II The Passing of Pan 39 
 
 Ardorix. 
 On Alpine cliffs a cot I'll raise 
 High 'mong the sighing pines. 
 There will she dream through peaceful days, 
 While blood- wet wastes are mine. 
 For I shall win her plunder rare 
 From smoking cities' store, 
 And she will wondrous rubies wear 
 That flashed on queens of yore. 
 
 Alida. 
 
 What maid, think you, would joyful view 
 The fateful loot of war? 
 What bride know peace or rapture true 
 With you in peril far? 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 Though sweet to me that future seemed, 
 
 Too rude my speech for thee; 
 
 Thou art the maiden that I dreamed 
 
 Would share my liberty. 
 
 Oh fly with me when night enfolds 
 
 Our love lit by the stars, 
 
 And fathom what my tongue withholds 
 
 Or what the warrior mars. 
 Alida. 
 
 no, I cannot weigh thy plea; 
 Speak not of love, O Gaul, 
 
 My father's shield I still must be 
 If threat'ning tempests fall. 
 And still unto my gods I cling 
 While awful rites are thine; 
 My soul needs not the eagle's wing, 
 
 1 kneel at great Pan's shrine. 
 
 Ardorix, half drawing sword from sheath. 
 Frozen-Fire, thou hast not power 
 Just to win a maiden's ruth! 
 She doth shun thy flashing truth; 
 Hide thy edge. O fateful hour! Sheathes sword. 
 
40 The Passing of Pan Act II 
 
 • 
 
 And the altars of my sires 
 Bathed in sacrificial flood, 
 She abhors thy sacred blood; 
 Will ye smoulder then, O fires? 
 Then for honor must I go 
 Since for love I cannot stay. 
 But O maid if falls a day 
 When the land is wild with woe. 
 Know a Gallic heart is true, 
 Know a Gallic arm is strong, 
 And if any do thee wrong, 
 Frozen-Fire shall prove his rue! 
 
 Then fare thee well, 
 Fairest of all. 
 
 Alida. 
 Aye, fare thee well, 
 Most noble Gaul. 
 
 Ardorix darts into the forest; Alida reenters the cottage. 
 Curtain. 
 
Act HI The Passing of Pan 4.1 
 
 ACT III 
 
 Scene: A mountainous part of the forest. Time: Early 
 evening — one week later. A trail comes down over the 
 rocks of a grotto into which flows a small stream. The 
 woods are dense and a large laurel tree overhangs the pool. 
 
 Chorus of Voices of the Night, concealed. 
 
 Out of the shades of the sable-winged night, 
 
 Out of the mists of the twilight's sinking pall, 
 
 Hail we thy hearts though lost unto thy sight, 
 
 Sing we once more — drear spirits past recall. 
 
 Deep in the mirk of the never-rifting gloom 
 
 Yearn we for light from the world we ne'er shall know; 
 
 Call we thy names, O souls that chant our doom, 
 
 Strike but one chord to soothe our utter woe. 
 
 Hear then the wail of old friendships turned to dust. 
 Mingled with sighs of love-forsaken years, 
 Frankness and truth o'erwhelmed by cruel distrust, 
 Hopes long submerged in grief, transcending tears. 
 Promise grown pale in folly's stifling bower. 
 Genius denied and love that grieves alone; 
 Hark, while we mourn in this our granted hour. 
 Hark, while the lost their requiem intone. 
 
 Fainter, blown far 
 Wan figures fade, 
 Ripples the glade 
 Grief's avatar. 
 
 Dying we thrill 
 Ne'er as in life, 
 Sundered from strife. 
 Hush, we are still. 
 
 Enter Alhja and Mylas from the trees. 
 
42 The Passing of Pan Act III 
 
 Alida. 
 
 O weary grows this upland way, 
 Where art thou, father Andraeon? 
 And e'en the echo empty sounds. 
 
 To Mylas. 
 
 faun, a word, a gesture sHght 
 To aid me in my quest! 
 
 Mylas. 
 
 No, no, 
 
 1 dare not, lovely maid; the law 
 That rules each leafing twig 
 
 Has heavy cursed his lightest hair, 
 And I may only guard you safe. 
 No help lend to your sire. His fate 
 Decreed, the wood-folk wait, but you 
 Are warded by a thousand eyes. 
 
 Alida. 
 
 Alas, ye gods, I know not where 
 To find my father out; the woods 
 All of an instant threat'ning loom. 
 And he lost in their maze a week! 
 
 // gradually grows darker. 
 
 But stay — ^he promised aid in need — 
 O that the valiant Gaul were nigh! 
 
 To Mylas. 
 
 You've guarded well my wanderings. 
 Would you essay a mission far? 
 
 Mylas. 
 
 For you — what is the goal? 
 
 Alida. 
 
 You know 
 The Gallic camp — seek out the chief 
 Called Ardorix, and say I ask. 
 Nay, say I quite implore his aid, 
 And that I wait his coming here. 
 
Act III The Passing of Pan 43 
 
 Aside. 
 Ah me that I am brought to sue 
 The simple-hearted warrior. 
 
 Mylas. 
 
 And where, fair maiden will you bide 
 While I upon your errand speed? 
 
 Alida. 
 
 Why with my ancient friends the trees. 
 Mylas. 
 
 Nay, hold, 'twere better that you join 
 
 The Dryads of the laurel groves. 
 
 Clapping his hands. 
 
 Then hasten, lizard-in-the-grass, 
 
 And rap upon yon bay tree's roots. 
 
 The grass rustles; after a pause, Thera steps out of the laurel. 
 Thera. 
 
 Hail, little sister of the woods. 
 Alida. 
 
 Ah comrade of the poppied fields. 
 Mylas. 
 
 Receive this maid within your bowers, 
 
 Safe screen her till I come again. 
 
 Starting away. 
 Thera, circling Alida's waist with her arm. 
 
 Clasped to our hearts! 
 
 Alida. 
 
 Safe fare thee, faun. 
 
 Mylas runs of. 
 Thera, approaching the laurel-tree. 
 
 The doe to her covert green-masked by the brake 
 Springs fondly away in the gloaming, 
 The ring-doves the brookside and forest forsake, 
 Their whirring wings eagerly homing. 
 
44 The Passing of Pan Act III 
 
 The eagle his eerie descries 'cross the blue, 
 
 The fount for the ocean is pining, 
 
 So kindles, O laurel, my longing for you, 
 
 All else for thy warm bark resigning. 
 
 Sweet dreams haunt thy canopy, balm for the heart 
 
 Exhales with each leaf's lightest motion, 
 
 And ne'er from thy boughs will my spirit depart 
 
 Till robbed of thy shelt'ring devotion. 
 
 Then ope to my song, green tower of the wood. 
 
 The fairest of mortals receiving 
 
 Though but for a night, in owe nymphs' sisterhood, 
 
 Leading Alida towards the tree. 
 Thy spell o'er her earthy sense weaving; 
 
 Trunk opens and Alida enters the tree. 
 Rustling lull to healing slumber. 
 Harp the star-born minstrel breeze. 
 
 Alida. 
 
 Lo the ills my soul would cumber, 
 Fade like islets overseas! 
 
 Low plaintive bird note in the bush. 
 Thera. 
 
 Bird of even, hush thy sorrow, 
 Alida. 
 
 'Tis a lark that blinded weeps. 
 Thera. 
 
 Wood and water till the morrow 
 
 Gentle watch, Alida sleeps. 
 
 Tree trunk closes about Thera. // grows quite dark. Enter 
 Andraeon; comes down trail and advances to edge oj grotto. 
 
 Andraeon. 
 
 Confusion seize this inky waste! 
 Far have I come since first I heard 
 Of this great horde of gold, all gold. 
 Stored by the gnomes beneath a mount. 
 
 Moon, rising behind the trees begins to illumine the scene faintly. 
 
Act in The Passing of Pan 45 
 
 If I but find it — ah, gold, gold! 
 But which road is the one? 
 
 First Satyr, popping head from behind a tree. 
 
 All roads. 
 
 Disappearing. 
 Andraeon, startled, turns. 
 
 Who spoke? 
 Second Satyr, from between two rocks. 
 No one. 
 
 Disappears. 
 Andraeon, shivering. 
 
 What ill forebodes? 
 Third Satyr, from a tree top. 
 The whiskers of a mousing cat. 
 
 Disappears .. 
 First Satyr, reappearing. 
 
 What road wish you, old man? 
 
 Andraeon. 
 
 What's that? 
 Perhaps you know where dwell the gnomes? 
 
 First Satyr. 
 
 Just down the dell, they make their homes 
 
 Where first this torrent runs up hill. 
 
 Andraeon starts to go of.. 
 Second Satyr, appearing behind him. 
 
 He told you false — you walk until 
 
 You walk no farther. See? Ho, ho! 
 
 Mocking laughter on all sides. Andraeon pauses confused.^ 
 Third Satyr, appearing from a stump. 
 List not to them — I only know; 
 Take ninety paces to the right, 
 But keep thy left ear still in sight, 
 Turn thrice around but always face 
 Thy heels until you reach a place 
 
46 The Passing of Pan Act III 
 
 • 
 
 You never saw before, and then — 
 'Tis like you've wandered wrong again. 
 
 All Satyrs disappear with a shout. 
 Andraeon, waving his arms in wild perplexity. 
 Just down a creek and up a mount, 
 And right I turn and ninety count. 
 And backward run and forward speed — 
 My head, my head, — you reel indeed! 
 A way so hard I'll seek by day, 
 And lie me here till morning's ray. 
 
 Lies down under the trees and falls asleep. Distant thunder and 
 lightning. A Troglodyte crawls up from pool in grotto, 
 and steals towards Andraeon, retreating and advancing 
 several times, each time approaching nearer; others follow 
 at short intervals until eight or ten have emerged. They 
 disport themselves weirdly, pointing and gibing at the sleep- 
 ing man, making wry faces the while. 
 
 Chorus of Troglodytes, still concealed. 
 
 Out of the mouldering slime we are crawling, 
 Over the rocks of the pool we come sprawling. 
 
 Heads of more Troglodytes appear over rocks in grotto. 
 First Troglodyte. 
 Mushroom sprite of hate, 
 Venomous I wait 
 Where the adders lurk, 
 From the nether mirk 
 Creep I now to dance — 
 O the gladsome chance — 
 O'er this sodden fool, 
 And his nightmare rule. 
 
 Capers around Andraeon who stirs uneasily and groans in his 
 sleep. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Bred in dank, fetid pits, earth's sun denying, 
 Prowl we with poisoned breath, virtue defying. 
 
Act III The Passing of Pan 47 
 
 Voice. 
 
 Treachery am I, 
 Another Voice. 
 
 Mine the miird'rous lie, 
 Another Voice. 
 
 I brutality, 
 Another Voice. 
 
 Base venality. 
 Another Voice. 
 
 Hatred — in the dust. 
 
 Greed and savage lust. 
 
 Another Voice. 
 
 Visage gaunt and sere. 
 Blasphemous I leer. 
 
 Andraeon waves his arms aloft and groans more loudly. 
 
 Chorus. 
 List what the man-thing in agony mutters, 
 Ho! at our gambols he strangles and stutters! 
 
 They dance around and over Andraeon. 
 
 Andraeon, half awake. 
 
 Help, I plunge through fire, 
 Smothered I expire ! 
 
 First Troglodyte. 
 
 Prod him with your spear, 
 Imp of guilty fear. 
 
 Andraeon, rising. 
 
 Save me, powers on high, 
 
 Harken or I die! 
 
 Troglodytes draw back until he sinks down again. 
 First Troglodyte. 
 
 Caper on his breast. 
 
 Iron-shod unrest. 
 
48 The Passing of Pan Ad III 
 
 A Troglodyte dances on Andraeon's chest. He shrieks and 
 springs up, Troglodytes closing around him. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Flit away, brothers, the zenith is paling, 
 Hustle the victim and stifle his wailing, 
 Down to the ooze and chill darkness eternal 
 Hale we the craven for tortures infernal. 
 
 Troglodytes, plunge into pool, carrying Andraeon on their 
 shoulders, screaming and struggling. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 Scene II: The same, before dawn the next morning. Enter 
 Ardorix on trail. 
 
 Ardorix, looking about him. 
 
 Hail, maid, whose eyes shall dull the dawn, 
 What boughs wave reverent o'er thy head? 
 
 Thera appears from trunk of the laurel, pausing near the tree. 
 Thera, with finger on lips. 
 
 Hush, soldier, soft, AHda sleeps, 
 
 And e'er she wakes, a tale I — 
 
 Alida steps from the laureVs trunk, advancing without perceiv- 
 ing Ardorix. 
 
 Alida. 
 
 O 
 
 I dreamed of rippling waters, till 
 A cloud filmed all the forest, then 
 A troop of mourning spirits — 
 
 Seeing Ardorix. 
 Ah 
 You came — I thank you, warrior; 
 Forgive my fears — I'm sore distraught, 
 My sire is lost and I despair 
 Unaided e'er to find him. 
 
Act in The Passing of Pan 49 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 Peace, 
 
 My life, my sword are yours to sway — 
 
 Thera, advancing and drawing Alida to her. 
 My heart is wrung for you, sweet child. 
 Be strong, — I cannot tell you all, 
 
 Alida. 
 
 What terror in your voice? — — speak! 
 Thera. 
 
 I know your father's fate, it came 
 
 Unto me in the night — 
 
 Alida. 
 
 O cruel! 
 Thera. 
 
 I cannot tell you what or where, 
 But he has passed beyond your ken 
 To nevermore return. Dear one, 
 That I might ease the ache. 
 Ardorix. 
 
 Ofair 
 How feeble is my sword in this! 
 Unbuckles sword and scabbard and lays them on a bank near 
 
 grotto. 
 Alida. 
 
 give me but my father! O 
 
 1 see — I see — the shroud that wrapped 
 The smiling wood, the mourning souls, 
 I sense it all! — O cruel night! 
 
 O false groves, were you sworn thus to shatter my peace? 
 O ye gods, were your altars kept burning for this? 
 May your vengeance on him my devotion release! 
 But — ah no! — that way yawns a black, hopeless abyss! 
 Could I drink then of Lethe, or sink 'neath its wave 
 While the lilt of the lark sounded clear as of yore ! 
 Yet with heart full to bursting his life I still crave — 
 Hear me, Jove, while in anguish I mercy implore. 
 
50 The Passing of Pan Act III 
 
 Pan is heard singing in the distance, presently he enters. 
 Pan. 
 
 Lo the trees are black-shadowed, the dawning o'ercast 
 By the cloud of your sorrow. The gods are not cold 
 But e'en Jove on his throne wields no power o'er the past, 
 And no boon in our gift would we wanton withhold; 
 Though you ask for the azure that arches the sky, 
 Though you sigh for the diamonds that gleam in the dew, 
 I will grant you each treasure that gladdens your eye, 
 I will conjure rare magic to lessen your rue. 
 
 Exeunt Pan and Thera. 
 Ardorix, approaching Alida. 
 
 Sad, doubly sad thy grief to me, 
 O that I had the power to soothe! 
 Shy wildflower fair in savage wood. 
 Let my arm shield thee from the blast. 
 Is there among thy Grecian gods 
 One god of love? Then pray to him, 
 And may he whisper what I feel; 
 My tongue alas were rude to thee. 
 
 Alida, musing. 
 
 Alone, alone, all gone but him. 
 
 Does love glide like a quest'ning ghost? 
 
 To Ardorix. 
 To you I sent last eve, this morn 
 You faithful come, it stirs my heart; 
 And yet to love? — ah me, your sword. 
 The battle anger of your eyes. 
 The lust for steel and blood and death, — 
 No, no, O Gavil, not love, not love; 
 Diana's shrine I'll seek straightway, 
 Her votary I — 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 Would that I bore the eagle's pinions, 
 Fleet would I soar with thee through space — 
 Monarch to view my high dominions, 
 And 'mid the stars thy heart embrace. 
 
Act III The Passing of Pan 51 
 
 Speak not to me of battle-hating 
 Lest this same sword thy love should force, 
 Proud of my race I am done with waiting, 
 Think not to stem my passion's course. 
 
 Alida. 
 
 Noble I called thee? 'Twas mere dreaming 
 If thy stern arms such victory seek. 
 Ah what may lurk 'neath bravest seeming ! 
 And you the champion of the weak! 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 Sweet, but your wrath my heart is wronging, 
 Loving, thy soul to love I'd bend. 
 Ardent I chafe with hopeless longing 
 Till I am fired my love to rend. 
 
 Alida. 
 
 Frenzy consumed, such love would alter; 
 Helpless, my heart I still withhold. 
 Dian, support me lest I falter, 
 Or in thy breast thy maid enfold! 
 What though you won the outward token? 
 Figure and face that fancy caught; 
 Yet with the inner radiance broken, 
 Winning, 'twere lost what most ye sought. 
 
 Ardorix, stepping backward, and kneeling. 
 Deep in my heart a chord has sounded; 
 What is the force that daunts my steel? 
 Chastened I kneel with awe unbounded, 
 Loved or despised, thy liegeman leal. 
 
 A Gaul comes leaping down the trail over the rocks, pausing at 
 the grotto, brandishes a sword dyed red. At first sound of 
 his approach Ardorix leaps to his feet. 
 
 Gaul, as he approaches. 
 
 Son of Be'al, mark my brand! 
 'Tis the sword of Fire, 
 Lighting far the eager land. 
 
52 The Passing of Pan Ad III 
 
 Rousing youth and sire; 
 Forged in consecrated flame, 
 Blessed with awful prayer ; — 
 Wear ye proud the Gallic name? 
 To the muster fare! 
 
 Ardorix takes step toward his sword, but Alida arrests him 
 with a gesture. 
 
 Buckle on the battle-blade 
 
 While the beacon burns, 
 
 Speed thee to Dodona's shade 
 
 Ere the noon-tide turns! 
 
 "May the sluggard die the death, 
 
 Fear the craven freeze! 
 
 And with blast like vampire's breath, 
 
 Fiends the traitor seize! 
 
 Let the words with terror fall," 
 
 Wild the clansman cry: 
 
 "He who last shall heed the call 
 
 On these stones shall die." 
 
 Gaul runs of into the forest; Ardorix snatches up his sword 
 and starts to buckle it about him. 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 The clan has called, swift must I fly. 
 And you — 
 
 Alida. 
 
 Think not of me in strife, — 
 O hateful summons, do you go 
 Thus blindly like a slave in chains? 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 You saw that sword? — I must or die. 
 O that we parted bound in heart! 
 
 Alida. 
 
 Ah no, when first you loose your steel 
 My heart shall be the empty sheath 
 By love forsaken — 
 
Act III The Passing or Pan 53 
 
 Ardorix, springing toward her. 
 
 Then — you love? 
 Ah, fate, to set me thus at naught! 
 And yet, ye groves, how fair ye shine! 
 But, maid of worlds, you love me now? 
 
 Alida. 
 
 My tongue high treason dropped — but no, 
 I might have loved had not grim war 
 Passed like a foul hand o'er your brow. 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 What would you now? 
 Alida. 
 
 Renounce for me 
 
 This savage life, embrace my gods. 
 Ardorix, recoiling. 
 
 O that joy can so mingle with pain. 
 
 And the voice that brings heaven strike chill to my sense ! 
 
 If the shield of my honor I stain. 
 
 What alas could I prize for my shame's recompense? 
 
 Shall the blood of my blood find me cold? 
 
 Shall the sons of my mother seek peril alone? 
 
 Ah remember the battles of old. 
 
 And dare think at the muster my tribe to disown ! 
 
 Alida. 
 
 It were brave to clash swords with the foe, 
 
 It were braver to war with the demons within. 
 
 To thy baser of selves deal the blow. 
 
 With the gods for thy armor such valor would win. 
 
 Ardorix paces up and down and points despairingly to 
 the sun now mounting high in the heavens. 
 
 your love was but words on the gale, 
 
 Since you turn from our try sting a sword to embrace, 
 
 But if o'er you its spell should prevail 
 
 Then, alas, nevermore shall you look on my face 
 
 Starts as if to leave, pauses a moment. 
 
54 The Passing or Pan Act III 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 Ah for shame that I falter and doubt ! 
 Yet Alida such agonies shine in yoiu: eyes, 
 That one glance puts my firmness to rout, 
 And I linger half-won till fresh torments arise. 
 
 Points again to sun. 
 Fast approaches the mustering hour, 
 With my sword I shall soon hew an end to despair, 
 
 Raises hands to heavens. 
 I forswear her, inexorable power, 
 
 Starts again to buckle on sword. 
 And adieu, maiden lovely — adieu, spirit rare! 
 
 Turns to gaze for the last time on Alida standing with head 
 bowed; he pauses in the buckling of his armor, and strug- 
 gles to master himself, takes a step to depart but suddenly 
 overcome, dashes back to her side. 
 Ardorix. 
 
 Alida, see, I fling it far for thee! 
 
 Flings sword with great force into rocks of grotto where it 
 falls with loud, hollow clang. 
 O Frozen Fire, there dies some part of me! 
 Alida, as if awakening from trance. 
 
 The sword! O Ardorix, your soul is free! 
 
 Embraces him. 
 Pipes of Pan sound in the distance. 
 Ardorix and Alida. 
 
 Once love was tender, now love is strong; 
 Reverent we render homage and song. 
 Once skies were saddened; all golden glows, 
 All earth is gladdened since love arose. 
 Hearts rhythmic beating take up the strain, 
 Joyous repeating, "Love, love shall reign." 
 One flutters clinging, with high desire. 
 One upward winging, chastened by fire. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
Act IV The Passing of Pan 55 
 
 ACT IV 
 
 Scene: The Oaks of Dodona. Time: Noon the same day. 
 A dense oak forest, with the branches meeting overhead. In a 
 small clearing is an irregular circle of large stones with a 
 large flat one in the center {the Cromlech), with a small fire 
 burning between two stones in front of it. The large rocks 
 are hung with festoons of oak leaves; a rude sun-dial to the 
 left of the Cromlech. Druids discovered grouped about the 
 Cromlech in a half circle, Meld immediately behind it and 
 Werin and Nervo on left and right. Druids (eight or 
 ten in number) dressed in white flowing robes with heavy 
 chains about necks, and chaplets of oak leaves. 
 
 Nervo, slowly chants. 
 Shade of the sacred oak, 
 Breathe our sweet altar smoke, 
 Omens our prayers invoke, 
 Be'al, Sun! 
 
 All-healing mistletoe. 
 Banish thy suppliant's woe. 
 Let us the fates foreknow — 
 Great only One ! 
 
 Chorus of Druids. 
 
 Hark to the wind in the trees! 
 The voice of One on high. 
 What is the word in the breeze? 
 "The brave shall win or die." 
 
 Werin, slowly chants. 
 Kindle, O fire, and burn. 
 So we for wisdom yearn. 
 And in thy crackling learn 
 Glory or gloom. 
 
56 The Passing of Pan Act IV 
 
 Chorus of Druids. 
 
 See, blaze the embers red, 
 Blood and more blood is shed! 
 Whose is the gory dead? 
 Vict'ry or doom? 
 
 Mark how the clouds scud away! 
 
 The mantle of the Light, 
 
 Girded for battle array. 
 
 When One shall wield his might! 
 Bellovax and other warriors garbed for battle begin to enter 
 singly and in twos and threes, and as they continue to ar- 
 rive are greeted with shouts and rattling of spears on shields 
 by those already present. 
 Meld, chants more rapidly. 
 
 Children of Fire, so cold? 
 
 What, these the hearts of old! 
 
 Be'al our shame behold — 
 
 Gauls known to fear! 
 Assembled warriors shout angrily and clash swords on shields. 
 
 Who to your shouts will hark? — 
 
 Bravery's last feeble spark; 
 
 Cowards that shun the dark, 
 
 Why are they here? 
 
 Warriors shout still louder and rattle shields angrily. 
 Chorus, chants. 
 
 What to our god is most sweet? 
 
 A vict'ry-reddened field. 
 
 What shall we lay at his feet? 
 
 The wretch who thinks to yield. 
 Clansmen continue to arrive amid shouting and clashing of 
 
 shields. 
 Chorus of Clansmen. 
 
 At the call we fly. 
 
 Our war-scarred helmets flashing; 
 
 Wave the banners high. 
 
 For steel on steel is clashing! 
 
Act IV The Passing of Pan 57 
 
 Who but burns to charge the foemen? 
 
 Who but hails the fiery omen 
 
 Of our triumph in the embers? Forward sons of the Gael! 
 
 Clash swords on shields. 
 Melts the northern snows 
 Before our broadswords flaming, 
 Droops the southern rose 
 Our chilling blight proclaiming. 
 Be'al launch thy human lightning, 
 Brothers, arm ! the harness tight'ning 
 For the tumult that wins glory for the sons of the Gael ! 
 
 All shout. 
 Meld to Werin. 
 
 Brother, mark the dial's hour. 
 Werin. 
 
 Narrows fast its shade. 
 Meld. 
 
 Clansmen, let the laggard cower 
 
 When the noon is made ! 
 
 Let our sentence chill the Gaul, 
 
 Terror bid him fly : 
 
 He who last shall heed the call 
 
 On these stones shall die ! 
 
 All groan and rattle shields. 
 Chorus of Clansmen and Druids. 
 
 He who last shall heed the call 
 
 On these stones shall die! 
 
 Meld to Bellovax. 
 
 Chieftain, are your clansmen met 
 And the broadswords bared? 
 
 Bellovax. 
 
 Priest most high, they eager fret, 
 For the march prepared. 
 Few are missing from the host, 
 Scan our ranks, O seer. 
 
58 . The Passing of Pan Act IV 
 
 First Gaul. 
 
 Would that he we prize the most, 
 Ardorix, were here. 
 
 Bellovax. 
 
 Ardorix, the Gallic scourge, 
 What! that valiant late? 
 
 Meld. 
 
 Ardorix, thy fleet foot urge, 
 Trifle not with fate! 
 
 Warriors exchange uneasy glances and murmur among them- 
 selves. 
 
 Second Gaul. 
 Lightning-wielder, brother, speed! 
 
 First Gaul. 
 
 He were ever first. 
 Second Gaul. 
 
 He who in the van should lead, 
 
 Will he die accurst? 
 
 Two or three more Gauls straggle in and are greeted with sub- 
 dued shouts and groans. 
 
 Bellovax. 
 
 The hsts are closed, but one has failed 
 The solemn summons of his race. 
 One laggard, one — oh woe! 
 
 Gauls in chorus. 
 
 O woe! 
 
 Rattling oj shields and groans. 
 Bellovax. 
 
 O sacred prophet of the oak, 
 The chieftain Ardorix has shamed 
 The once high prowess of his line. 
 
 Gauls in chorus. 
 Then cursed be Ardorix! Woe, woe! 
 
Act IV The Passing of Pan 59 
 
 Enter Ardorix rapidly, without sword or armor, pausing at 
 groans and angry murmur that goes up. Advances slowly 
 to the center. 
 
 Druids in chorus. 
 
 Anger on high, descend, 
 Baleful the traitor rend; 
 Once more thine own defend — 
 Woe, Be'al, woe! 
 Swordless, hateful sight — 
 Death to the sluggard knight! 
 Haste the dread lustral rite! 
 Woe, woe, woe! 
 
 Gauls in chorus, clashing swords against shields. 
 
 O Be'al! 
 Meld. 
 
 All for the sacrifice prepare, 
 
 The victim seize and bind; {to Bellovax) O chief, 
 
 Now by these sacred shades, yon man 
 
 To death by torture I condemn! 
 
 Clansmen groan and bow their heads; two Gauls seize Ar- 
 dorix. A clap of thunder sounds. All start. 
 
 Bellovax. 
 
 O priest, thy word of doom is law. 
 Ardorix, struggling free from his captors. 
 
 ye gods I never knew 
 Till a maiden bore me light. 
 
 And earth was sweeter for the love she gave, 
 
 Humble suppliant I sue 
 
 For your favor in my plight. 
 
 Or at the stake my new-born faith to save. 
 
 At thy altars in the grove 
 
 1 have pledged my soul to thee. 
 
 And will ye have my first prayer be my last? 
 
 And the oracle of Jove 
 
 Could its magic this foresee. 
 
 Or is the star that rules me overcast? 
 
6o The Passing of Pan Ad IV 
 
 And the solemn vow I made 
 
 As an earnest to the gods 
 
 To sway the councils of my tribe to peace! 
 
 Ah what men I would persuade — 
 
 But what matters fearful odds! — 
 
 Turning suddenly on Druids. 
 
 O priests of wrath, depart the land of Greece! 
 
 Meld. 
 
 what blasphemy we hear, 
 
 Seize the wretch who vaunts his shame, 
 And with his impious blood the altars slake ! 
 
 Werin. 
 
 To his treason stop the ear. 
 
 And heap high the sacred flame 
 
 And bind the monster to the torture stake! 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 And ye brothers of my race. 
 By the mem'ry of our sires, 
 
 1 beg you sheathe the swords of savage lust. 
 Flee the prophets of disgrace, 
 
 And abjure yon guilty fires, 
 
 'Twere better that your brands in honor rust! 
 
 Some of the Clansmen in chorus. 
 
 O cast him in the flame, 
 Defiler of our name! 
 
 Seize Ardorix; a clap of thunder again heard. 
 DRxnDS. 
 
 O hear the heavens quake. 
 Quick bind him to the stake! 
 
 Other Clansmen in chorus. 
 Nay, hold, he turned the tide 
 When Gaul's last hope had died. 
 No torture for the brave. 
 But speed him to his grave! 
 
Act IV The Passing of Pan 6i 
 
 Opposing sides contend with each other, shouting and brandish- 
 ing swords, the friends of Ardorix finally prevailing. 
 
 Bellovax, advancing. 
 
 Now by the sacred oak, 
 High vengeance I invoke; 
 The prisoner behead 
 And Be'al take the dead! 
 
 Gauls strip jerkin from Ardorix ajid loosen garments about 
 his shoulders, binding him. 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 Do you still watch my fate, 
 Great Jove? Help, ere too late ! 
 Alida, pray for me, 
 I dying sigh for thee. 
 
 Enter Alida, rushes between the astonished Gauls and flings 
 herself upon Ardorix. 
 
 Alida! — Jove is good! 
 
 Alida. 
 
 Alas! 
 
 Ardorix, what mean these bonds? 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 'Tis only that I die for love of you, 
 And may my end be worthy of your eyes; 
 'Tis bitter-sweet to read your anguish true. 
 And hard to ease the heart with hollow sighs. 
 
 Gauls spring forward with raised swords to force Alida 
 from Ardorix, but their blades remain suspended in 
 mid-air and will not descend towards her. Druids 
 and Clansmen start back super stitiously. 
 
 What! Has your sweetness power to charm their steel? 
 How witching is the silver of your tone ! 
 
 1 close my eyes and in rapt fancy feel 
 
 A paradise where sings your voice alone. 
 
62 The Passing of Pan Act IV 
 
 Alida. 
 
 Nay, love, the handles of their swords but show 
 Their kinship for the living wood and fear 
 To draw the wrath of Pan if falls a blow, 
 For by his mark all live things hold me dear. 
 
 Druids surround Meld in consultation. In a moment they 
 despatch several warriors into the forest. 
 
 Then let us hope since thus the gods defend, 
 For he they bless is clad in armor strong. 
 Or if the web is woven to its end. 
 The sad last hour of love an hour prolong. 
 
 Ardorix. 
 
 For I will bear thy love through seas of fire, 
 Or plunged in timeless void and boundless dark, 
 And though this conquered frame will swift expire, 
 To thee, dear one, my soul shall ever hark. 
 
 Alida. 
 
 O I will meet thee on the Stygian shore, 
 
 And we will seek the far Elysian fields 
 
 Where war and hate are banished evermore, 
 
 And Love o'er all her rose-wreathed scepter wields. 
 
 Re-enter Gauls, bearing stones with which they beat Ardorix 
 and Alida apart. Ardorix struggles, helpless, and Alida 
 falls in swoon. Enter Pan in the disguise of an itinerant 
 peddler, playing on pipes. Gauls spring forward to 
 oust the intruder, but the god withstands them without 
 apparent effort and they shrink back affrighted. 
 
 Pan, advancing to where Alida lies. 
 Come away, come away, 
 Bobolink's singing. 
 Come away, come away, 
 Whither he's winging. 
 
 Alida recovers consciousness and rises slowly. 
 What savag'ry makes riot here? 
 
Turning to Pan. 
 
 Act IV The Passing of Pan 63 
 
 Alida. 
 
 On the brink of the stream of my sorrow 
 Shines Sleep's gray folded wing. 
 And I yearn for the calm of the morrow 
 And the peace that Death can bring. 
 In the hour of my soul's last devotion, 
 Great Jove, thy clemency; 
 
 And assailed by love's deepest emotion, 
 
 I ask my boon of thee. 
 
 Then release from his fetters defiling 
 
 This chief from war forsworn. 
 
 And the host of his kindred exiling, 
 
 E'en grant him life new-born. 
 
 Shall he die with thy magic unspoken, 
 
 A death some slave may give? 
 
 Then I offer my blood as love's token — 
 
 To die that he may live. 
 
 Ardorix, straining at his bonds. 
 
 O death beloved, O shameful life, 
 No, no, I will not live! 
 
 Bellovax, advancing with Gauls. 
 
 How now! 
 Who dares to break our rites? 
 
 Pan, throwing of cloak. 
 
 Peace, all! 
 
 All pause as if transfixed. 
 
 maiden sorrowing, draw near; 
 
 1 fear my power to far exert 
 Among the troubled wreck of things; 
 For temples fall, old faiths and gods 
 Are straining 'neath the press of time. 
 And hurtle through a void to what? 
 Thy lover I can save — for what? 
 
 And thy sweet breath restore — for what? 
 
64 The Passing of Pan Act IV 
 
 When unbelief with ghoulish tread 
 
 Creeps out where war and lust have passed, 
 
 Shall hearts like thine for long survive? 
 
 Ardorix. 
 Then welcome, death! 
 
 Alida. 
 
 What fate is left? 
 Pan. 
 
 O that a god might stoop to tears! 
 
 The Dryads all have fled; the wood 
 
 No longer rings with merry shouts; 
 
 These two alone believe in me. 
 Last boon of all I offer now. 
 
 Takes his pipes. 
 
 O heed the call of the westland isles. 
 Where aye a sky of azure smiles, 
 And Zephyr woos with sportive wiles. 
 And billowed cloud-ships sail. 
 O breathe the faint aroma blown 
 From Pan's star-blossomed leafy throne 
 In cedar groves with violets sown. 
 And nodding hare-bells pale. 
 
 Tall, tall the westland pines do grow 
 And sweet its winds dream-laden blow, 
 And O such beams the sun doth throw 
 In the westland far and rare. 
 O joy-enthralling westland vales, 
 O sheen on emerald-sprinkled swales 
 In mountain-girded fairy dales — 
 O westland shining fair. 
 
 Pan raises his hand, a flash of lightning follows, and the trees 
 divide, showing distant beautiful islands in a summer sea 
 at sunset. The Gauls all recoil and fall on knees with 
 bowed heads. The Druids withdraw to the rear, and re- 
 main standing with faces averted. 
 
Act IV The Passing of Pan 65 
 
 Pan. 
 
 What golden splendors robe the west 
 In regal hues to greet the blest, 
 And when they end the weary quest, 
 The hearts of men renew; 
 Then jealous life why longer hold 
 The soul mid spectre-passions old. 
 When glorified the skies unfold? 
 O warring world, adieu! 
 
 Pan extends his arms heavenward and with the last words, mounts 
 on the sunbeams through the tree-tops, with Alida and 
 Ardorix clasping his hands. 
 
 Curtain.