Unfinished Draft of a Poem which may be entitled "iEschylus' Soliloquy" BY ROBERT BROWNING Wcto gorfe THE MACMILLAN COMPANY All rights reser'ved Unfinished Draft of a Poem which may be entitled "^schylus' Soliloquy" BY ROBERT BROWNING THE MACMILLAN COMPANY ^913 All rights reserved Q^c^% Copyright, 1913, By the MACMILLAN COMPANY IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. J '^SCHYLUS' SOLILOQUY' UNFINISHED DRAFT OF A POEM WHICH MAY BE ENTITLED '^SCHYLUS' SOLILOQUY.' At the sale of the Browning MSS on May 2, 1913, this MS. was catalogued as : Lot 188. Browning (R.) Auto. Draft of a poem, in blank verse, 4 pp. 8vo., un- finished and perhaps unpublshed, appar- ently intended for ' Aristophanes' Apology,' but not used, beginning : * I am an old and solitar>^ man.' This description is correct in so far as the poem has never bef are been published. Closer examination showed, however, that this is not a draft for ' Aristophanes' Apology,' but a soliloquy cf the aged ^schylus. just befare the prophecy as to his death was fulfilled by an eagle "dropping a tortoise upon his head. The poem has been printed according to the original MS., now in the British Museum, as it reads with the poet's vari- ants and queries. In line 56, ' Dephos ' is obviously a slip of the pen for ' Delphos,' and in line 59 'rush' seems the best in- terpretation of an illegible word, of which the MS. contains many. — Editor.] I AM an old and solitary man And now at set of sun in Sicily I sit down in the middle of this plain Which drives between the mountains and the sea Its blank of nature. If a traveller came Seeing my bare bald skull and my still brows And massive features coloured to a stone, The tragic mask of a humanity W^hose past is played to an end, — he might mistake me 10 For some god Terminus set on these flats Of broken marble Faunus. Let it be. Life has ebbed from me — I am on dry ground — All sounds of life I held so thunderous sweet Shade off to silence — all the perfect shapes Born of perception and men's images (imagery ?) Which thronged against the outer rim of earth And hung with floating faces over it Grow dim and dimmer — all the motions drawn From Beauty in action which spun audibly 20 My brain round in a rapture, have grown still. There's a gap 'twixt me and the life once mine, 30 Now others' and not mine, which now soars off In gradual declination — till at last I hear it in the distance droning small Like a bee at sunset. Ay, and that bee's hum The buzzing fly and mouthing of the grass Cropped slowly near me by some strange sheep Are strange to me with life — and separate from me The outside of my being — I myself Grow to the silence, fasten to the calm Of inorganic nature . . . sky and rocks I win pass on into their unity When dying down into impersonal dust. Ah, ha — these flats are wide ! The prophecy which said the house would faU, And thereby crush me, must bring down the sky. The only roof above me where I sit Or ere it prove its oracle to-day. Stand fast ye pillars of the constant heavens As life doth in me — I who did not die 40 That day in Athens, when the people's scorn Hissed toward the sun as if to darken it Because my thoughts burned too much for the eyes Over my head, because I spoke my Greek Too deep down in my soul to suit their case.' Who did not die to see the solemn vests Of my white chorus round the thymele Flutter like doves, and sweep back like a cloud Before the shrill lipped people . . . but stood calm And cold, and felt the theatre wax hot With mouthing whispers . . . the i /Eschylus Is gray I fancy — and his wrinkles ridge The smoothest of his phrases — or the times Have grown too polished for this old rough work — We have no Sphynxes in the Parthenon, Nor any flints at Dephos — or forsooth I think the Sphynxes wrote this Attic Greek — Our Sophocles hath something more than this (Cast out on — their rush I would not die) ? At this time by the crushing of a house 60 Who lived that Day out ... I would go to death With voluntary and majestic steps Yon thundering on the right hand. Let it be. 50 f97 1913 ' MSCHYLUS' SOLILOQUY ' I am an old and solitary man Mine eyes feel dimly out the setting sun Which drops its great red fruit of bitterness To-day as other days, as every day Within the patient waters. What do I say ? I whistle out my scorn against the men Who (knell) his trilogy morn noon and night And set this tragic world against the sun — Forgive me, great Apollo. — Bitter fruit lo I think we never found that holy sun Or ere with conjurations of our hands Drove up the saltness of our hearts to it A blessed fruit, a full Hesperian fruit Which the fair sisters with their starry eyes Did warm to scarlet bloom. O holy sun My eyes are weak and cannot hold thee round ! But in my large soul there is room for thee. All human wrongs and shames cast out from it, — And I invite thee, sun, to sphere thyself 20 In my large soul, and let my thoughts in white Keep chorus round thy glory — Oh the days In which I sate upon Hymettus the hill missus seeming louder : and the groves Of blessed olive thinking of their use A little tunicked child and felt my thoughts ( ?) Rise past the golden bees against thy face Great sun upon the sea. The city lay Beneath me like an eaglet in an egg. The beak and claws shut whitely up in calm — ^ ^o And calm were the great waters — and the hills Holding at arm's length their unmolten snows Plunged in the light of heaven which trickled back On all sides, a libation to the world. There I sate a child Half hidden in purple thyme with knees drawn up By clasping of my little arms, and cheek Laid slant across them with obtruded nose And full eyes gazing . . . ay, my eyes climbed up Against the heated metal of thy shield Till their persistent look clove through the fire 40 And struck it into many folded fires ( ?) And opened out the secret of the night Hid in the day-source Darkness mixed with light. Then shot innumerous arrows in my eyes Drove From all sides of the Heavens — so blind- ing me — As countless as the norland snowflakes fell Before the north winds — rapid, wonderful. Some shafts as bright as sun rays nine times drawn Thro' the heart of the sun — some black as night in Hell — All mixed, sharp, driven against me ! and as I gazed (For I gazed still) I saw the sea and earth 50 Leap up as wounded by the innumerous shafts And hurry round, and whirl into a blot Across which evermore fell thick the shafts As norland snow falls thick before the wind ( ? flakes fall) Until the northmen at the cavern's mouth Can see no pine tree through. I could see nought No earth, no sea, no sky, no sun itself. Only that arrowy rush of black and white Across a surf of rainbows infinite And through it all Homerous the blind man 60 Did chant his vowelled music in my brain, piercing ? ? 1 pressing ? j and blinding and as- tonishing And then it was revealed, it was revealed That I should be a priest of the Unseen And build a bridge of sounds across the straight From Heaven to earth whence all the Gods might walk Nor bend it with their soles ( ?) And then I saw the Gods tread past me slow From out the portals of the hungry dark And each one, as he passed, breathed in 7o my face And made me greater — First old Saturn came Blind with eternal watches — calm and blind — Then Zeus— his eagle blinking on his wrist 1 ^ To his hand's rod of fires— in thunder rolls j He glode [on grandly — While the troop of Prayers Buzzed dimly in the | shadow j ^^ ^^^ ^^'^^^ With murmurous sounds, and poor be- seeching tears. And Neptune with beard and locks drawn straight As seaweed — ay and Pluto with his Dark Cutting the dark as Lightning cuts the sun 80 Made individual by intensity. And then Apollo trenching on the dark With a white glory, while the lute he bore Struck on the air ^ LIBRPRY OF CONGRESS III lllll III 014 386 851 i ft/3 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 014 386 8515 ^ I HoUinger Corp. pH8.5