;^ c^ Class ___ESj:2.i5LS Book -JS — Copyright N^ ^ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT, Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/dramaticworksofb01tayl BAYARD TAYLOR'S POETICAL WRITINGS. POETICAL WORKS. New Household Edition^ INCLUDING THE POET'S JOURNAL. POEMS OF THE ORIENT. HOME PASTORALS, BALLADS, AND ODES. THE PICTURE OF ST. JOHN. LARS : A PASTORAL OF NORWAY. Embracing, in short, all of Mr. Taylor's Poetical Writings not dramatic in form. I vol. i2mo, cloth, $2.00; half calf, ^4.00; tree calf, or morocco, $5.00. DRAMATIC POEMS. New Edition. INCLUDING THE PROPHET. THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. PRINCE DEUKALION. I vol. i2mo, uniform with Kennett Edition of Faust. Cloth, ^2.25; half calf, $4.50; tree calf, or morocco, ^6. 00. SEPARATE WORKS. POEMS OF THE ORIENT $1.25 POEMS OF HOME AND TRAVEL 1.25 THE MASQUE OF THE GODS 1.25 THE PROPHET: A Tragedy , 2.00 PRINCE DEUKALION: A Lyrical Drama 3.00 THE ECHO CLUB, and other Literary Diversions- "Little Classic" style 1.25 TRANSLATION OF GOETHE'S FAUST. "A masterpiece of translation." Parts I. and II., in two volumes, royal Svo. Each Part sold separatelj^, $4.50. The set, in green cloth, $9-00; half calf, $iS.oo; morocco, $25.00. The Same. Kennett Edition, 2 vols. i2mo, ^4.50; half calf, $9.00; morocco, $12. 00. The Same. 2 vols, in one. Full gilt, i2mo, $3.00; half calf, $5-50; morocco, I7-50- HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO., Publishers, Boston. THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF BAYARD TAYLOR WITH NOTES BY MARIE HANSEN-TAYLOR BOSTON AND NEW YORK: HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY LIBRARY of CONGRESS Two Copies Received OCT 17 1906 Cepyrlght Entry CUSS XXc, NO. COPY B. ^*^ e.^feyu^,^ cmi^ih^ /UA^ l> ■ '''?2^ COPYRIGHT COPYRIGHT I 1S72, 1874 AND 1S78 BY BAYARD TAYLOR 580, 1900, 1902 AND 1906 BY MARIE TAYLOR ALL RIGHTS RESERVED CONTENTS. THE PROPHET i THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. . . 165 PRINCE DEUKALION 191 NOTES 323 THE PROPHET. DRAMATIS PERSONiE. David Starr Elkanah . Hannah Rhoda NiMROD Kraft LiVIA ROMNEY . Simeon mordecai Hugh Jonas Sarah Peter Colonel Hyde Hiram . The Prophet. . His Father. His Mother. Afterwards his Wife. Afterwards High-Priest. A Wonian of the World. Members of the Cotmcil of Twelve. Wife of fonas. An Orphan, the Prophefs Serving- Man. Sheriff A Member of the Chttrch. A Preacher. People of David's neighborhood. Meinbers of the church. Women. Colonel Hyde'' s followers. Time, i8— . The scene of Act I. is a New England State ; of the four following Acts, a Western State. Between Acts I. and II. there is an interval of two years ; between Acts II. and III., an interval of one year. THE PROPHET, ACT I. Scene I. The porch, front-yard, and garden of a farm-house. Late afternoon. ^nr ELKANAH. IS a good ending of the harvest. Now We may be sure that every sheaf is stacked Ere rain can spoil it. One load more, I think, Said David. But the farther side is low, A deeper soil, bears well : he may be wrong, If on the right side of the estimate. I always counted less than likely seemed ; Tried to surprise myself, as it might be. And so increase my luck. He 's over young For under-guessing ; takes the most at once. And discounts profit long before it comes. The lad is not like me, or times are changed. I was my father over, he declared, And liked to say so ; but good stock improves ; Hey, Hannah ? 4 THE PROPHET. [Act I. HANNAH. Nay, I heard you : I must think, Whether I will or no, about the boy, As in the anxious time when he was born. Late fruit is best, they say, — the only kind Keeps over winter ; but it may get ripe. Like pippins, when the orchard 's bare of leaves. Your disappointment and your discontent You do forget ; but I remember all. Bearing the blame : and when he came, at last, I said within my heart. Because of that The Lord means something. Now I plague myself, Thinking I see, and straightway seeing not. The sign thereof revealed in David's life. ELKANAH. You could not help such fancies, I suppose. While he was on the way. HANNAH. I know your thought : You 've the same right to seek yourself in him, But will not find it : he is most of me. Why, forty years have you and I been wed ; And four and twenty has he been with us. I cannot say beforehand, thus and so Will speak my husband, or decide, or act ; But I must wait : yet, if a woman were By some strange miracle become a man. Then I should be our David's very self In feeling and in purpose. Something moves His mind beyond our daily round of work : I know not what it is, and dare not ask, Lest prying words, before the proper time, Breed mischief. Scene I.] THE PROPHET. 5 ELKANAH. Wife, the boy is all a man : He '11 soon spy out what 's wanting. HANNAH. Ah, not that ! PETER. [Singing at a distance.) Sing, blow the wind o' mornings ! Sing, blow the wind, 'igh O ! Sing, brush away the morning dew, Sing, blow, blow, blow ! ELKANAH. The last load : otherwise, would Peter sing Not quite so loudly. They have built it broad, Mayhap, and high, to save another. Well, Whether it show good luck or management Makes odds in the end. There be two ways of work ; And one is doing it because you must, And one because you like. Look when it 's done, You '11 see small difference, as the case is now ; And I misdoubt me sorely which it is. DAVID. {Smging, distant at Jirst, but gradually drawing nearer) If one to yonder mountain saith, Be cast into the sea ! And doubteth not, so filled with faith. The mount removed shall be. Though love is first, yet faith is chief : Lord, I believe ; help Thou mine unbelief ! Behold, He granteth prophecy, And gift of tongues, to all : :6 THE PROPHET. [Act I. His fullest bounty waits for me, Though I delay to call. The measure of our clays is brief : Lord, I believe ; help Thou mine unbelief ! (Rhoda, app7'oaching the hoiise from the opposite side, pmtses at the gate, and listens. She begins to sing, at first in a low voice, then louder to the close ; when David appears.) DAVID. I thought of you, and straightway find you here. Was that your prayer, as well ? I '11 not beheve You utter words, as one lets pebbles drop, To splash in water : you 've a helpful soul, I think, to make another's faith more firm By just believing, Rhoda ? RHODA. What I am Can I declare ? DAVID. Then I will set you forth. I '11 say that love in you is one with faith : The trust you give means an eternal term, And following through good and ill report, And with strong heart sustaining where the mind Would stop and question. These were woman's gifts, When she beheld the Master, and obeyed ; And they are yours ; if I supposed you false, I should be most unhappy. RHODA. No, not false ! Believe me, David, anything but that ! [ They pass into the garden. Scene I] THE PROPHET. HANNAH. They both forget us ! Even his face is strange, Most strange and beautiful with serious thought While hers is troubled, yet has nought of pain. I do not understand it. She 's a child, Is Rhoda still ; and wise she never seemed. Can one give counsel, comprehending not The doubtful matter ? Surely unto her He cannot show what he keeps back from me ! Men seek clear notions, whether fair or foul. When they have pondered anything so long As he with this. They take the orchard-path : The fruit will hardly be their chief concern. Yet gives fair ground that I may follow them. ELKANAH. [Laughing to himself.) Ha, ha ! I see no mystery in the thing. A practised tongue has Hannah, takes her way And justifies it, past my argument ; Yet now and then, like one in too much haste, Her notions trip, and throw her flat on mine. Because the lad was moony, she, forsooth. Must think him like a Samuel, set apart For this or t'other ; but it's nothing new. He goes the way of flesh and blood, that first Knows hardly what the natural ailment is, Till each finds out, and then the other heals. Yes, yes, these women ! Best to give them line, And let them pry a while among the clouds For what their very noses touch. She kept Him close, and preached upon and coddled him, As if a root of wilder oats is killed \Exit. 8 THE PROPHET. [Act I. When you keep down the top. The girl, 't is true, Might have a bigger dowry : let that pass ! High time it is to settle him afresh ; And Hannah has no call to interfere. \Exit (Hannah, David, ^;?<^Rhoda return.) DAVID. Neither to you nor Rhoda, mother. Both Must wait what cometh ; for, if I could say, Then I should know. And each of you is sure You love the other 1 I have seen no signs. Even neighbor's children do not change so much, But there is seeking, doubt, and bashfulness, Which will betray them. DAVID. None of these are ours : I did not seek what was already found ; And truth in me prohibits doubt of her. If what concerneth life was once ordained For others, there must be direction still. The nearest heart is ever easiest read : So, reading Rhoda's by the light of mine And that above, as one may hold pure glass Before the least of stars, nor make it dim, I saw that each was chosen, Rhoda, speak, And tell me once again your heart is mine ! rhoda. You know it, even if I answered Nay. Scene II.] THE PROPHET. Scene II. — A Camp-Meeting. A grove of large, scattered oak-trees. Against two, which stand near together, a platfor7?i is built, supporting a pulpit of rough timber. In front of the platforin are benches of planks, tirpon which several hundred persons are seated, David, Rhoda, and Peter among them. Testis are pitched zinder the borders of the grove. Many persons kneeling at the front benches, zveeping and shouting. HYMN. There is a fountain filled with blood Drawn from Immanuel's veins ; And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, Lose all their guilty stains. THE PREACHER. {Restiming his exhortation, which was interrttpted by the hymn.) Oh, there are more among ye shall be plucked As brands from out the burning ! By the hair I '11 seize you, — even by the single hair That holds you from the pit ! My hands are singed With loosening the Devil's grip on souls ; And you, who should strike out with fists and feet, Leave me the fight, the cowards that you are ! You think the Lord can't see you : even so The ostrich sticketh in the sand her head To save her gay tail-feathers : pull them out, And cast them from you ! Though you hide your- selves Under the mountains, it will not be long ; He '11 send you wriggling forth, as mean as mice ; And, though you dive down in the deepest sea, lo THE PROPHET. [Act I. He '11 haul you to the surface like a v/hale, Harpooned, and spouting blood. {Cries and groans among the people.) Yes, gnash and roar Like lions on the hills of Havilum ; But, all the same, He '11 ask full price of you. Come up, ye publicans and sinners ! Kneel, Pray hard, mourn with the mourners, and be saved ! Strike off the crusted brimstone from your feet, And swap the Devil's fire for water of hfe ! Oh ! don't I know you ? This one's pride of mind, And that one's wretched fear of what folks say, And t' other's cold " morality," as if An ice-house better than an oven baked, — Oh ! don't I know ? I had them all myself : I was a scurvy sheep, distempered, bad With foot and mouth disease : He picked me up. And, as it were, greased me with oil of grace, And washed my spotted fleece until it shone. You think you 're clean already ; but He sees Red under broadcloth, silk, and calico, — Only your livers white ! [Several more come forward to the front benches, and kneel down with loud cries. ) Two, three, four, five I Each one as nine and ninety righteous men : Why, these alone outweigh the rest of you ! You give a serpent when he asks for fish ; And He upsets, as men their wagons tilt. His four-horse loads of mercies and of gifts. And buries with them all that say, " I need." [His eyes meet those of David, zuho leans forward in his seat zvith a fixed, abstracted gaze.) I see another sinner ! He 's afraid : Scene II.] THE PROPHET. II It may be that he magnifies his sin. Bat, don't you know, the bigger load you bear, The greater comfort when you cast it off ? Oh ! you '11 be pardoned fully, not a doubt : He likes to pardon. Trembling brother, come ! You will not ? Say, then, do you love the Lord ? DAVID. [Rising, as ifzui/h a struggle and speaking slowly.) Whether I love Him, and how well, He knows. PETER. [Aside to his neighbor.) Not quite the answer he expected. THE PREACHER. Yes, He knoweth. Do you seek a hole in the net, Caught by the gills already ? Yes, He knows : These mourners cry to Him because of that. DAVID. Let Him be Judge of me ! THE PREACHER. He is your Judge Without your letting. These are Devil's tricks, — This playing pitch-and-toss with holy words. To gain a little time. Come up, choose sides ! The Lord means business. Where a gnat 's enough For others, must you have an elephant. And all His promises rammed down your throat, Before you know their taste ? 12 THE PROPHET. [Act I. DAVID {eagerly). His promises ? — The power of miracle and prophecy, And gift of tongues ? He promised them to all ; And Paul confirmed it. Tell me, then, the signs ! The heart within me aches from stress of faith : I have no need to pray, except for power, Which is the seal and covenant for them Whom He has chosen. [Moveme7iis and exclamations among the people. ) THE PREACHER. So take hold on hell The proud of spirit. What ! the gift of tongues, The power of miracle and prophecy. You ask, without repentance, prayer, and grace ? DAVID, For what should I repent ? Why pray as these Who cry from secret consciousness of sin ? I never let a fault against me stand For day of settlement, then balanced all By pleading bankrupt, only to begin A fresh account. Acceptance, yea, and faith. Are mine already, tenfold more than yours, Who neither ask, nor know what ye should ask. THE PREACHER. We choose His simple way. You would mislead : Be silent ! CRIES AMONG THE PEOPLE. Out ! A very infidel ! — No sinner ? Never prays .'* Why, Antichrist Could say no more ! To face the preacher so ! Away with him ! Scene III.] THE PROPHET. 13 PETER. ( Tii7')iing suddenly, with clinched fists.) The preacher drew him on, And got no worse than he deserved. I say, Touch him, it won't be " Glory ! " that you '11 shout. After a sore repentance. DAVID. If I shake This dust from off my feet, I do no more Than was commanded. Have you privilege To darken counsel with your cloud of words ? To teach the lesser part, reject the whole, And mutilate His glory unto men ? Woe to the Pharisees and hypocrites. Even here as there, even in these latter days, As when upon the paths of Galilee His feet were beautiful ! My words are said. {^He leaves the place amid a great oittcry and confusion^ Scene III. A lonely lane, evening. DAVID [solns). Cast out ? By them that think they do believe. Cursed for believing ? God ! what, then, is truth ? Why, here Thy minted gold is worn with use, Sweated in handling, till the head thereon Is quite rubbed out, the superscription dim. I did but offer it as freshly coined. With all its glorious promise legible, And they cry, " Counterfeit ! " Ten talents given, Nine have they buried, and a single one 14 THE PROPHET. [Act I. Divide among the people, who are Wind, And blindly led : shall I not therefore see ? {He paiises, and looks iipivards,) How reach the faith so perfect and assured That every gift must follow ? I have tried, Sought evidence in lightest, easiest ways : Nothing obeyed. So I have 7iot the faith, Or — O my God ! there is no faith, no power, Nor miracle ; and never can have been. But this is madness ! This makes truth a lie. Makes life an emptiness far worse than death, Peoples the world with devils, drives men mad, And substitutes — {Another patise. ) I had not thought of that. Times changed, conditions changed : hence special need Of worthiness through trial, harder now Than when all understood what meant belief, And perfect faith was natural to them. How can I measure mine by other men's ? I saw not right : I claimed the highest power, Unpurchased. What apostle shall declare, As then, the fealty of a human soul ? Not he ; not he ! And are not all alike. Giving their husks of doctrine for His bread ? The ground we stand on is too far apart : Whom seek ? Why, none ! A hand is on my head, A finger points the way. PETER {coming np). I meant to leave When you did ; but, because I cannot swear As properly as they, and just let fly Scene III.] THE PROPHET. 15 Hard lumps of words like stones to hit and hurt, They cursed me roundly, — in a holy way ; And one, with hand upon my collar, cried, " Down, sinner, and repent ! " I answered him Between the eyes ; then dashed the rest apart, And so got headway. Let us hurry on : They're after us. DAVID. And if they were ? My right Is greater. Did you understand my words ? PETER. As much as his. He did not answer you : That I could understand. DAVID. If unto you So much was manifest, and to the rest, They only want authority and sign, Which I must purchase. Peter, I believe All men are brethren when they see the truth. PETER. You never called me " brother ; " yet you did Even as a brother. DAVID. Did I so, indeed ? I thought not of it. ( They walk foj'wards. ) PETER. Why should you not preach ? There always must be preachers in the world. t6 the prophet. [Act I. We 're used to them ; and people say that things Would go to wrack without them ; but I wish They 'd yell and bang and thunder less. Somehow The text is friendly, smooth, and innocent As seems a flint ; yet soon they knock from it Thick sparks of hell-fire, and the sulphur-stink Goes to men's heads, and sets them raving wild. Yoti V preach some comfort, now. DAVID. Would you believe ? PETER. Why not ? Something we must believe, they say. What I can't understand I take on trust. It 's getting late : the hogs and cattle know There 's earlier feeding-time when Sunday comes. {He hastens on.) DAVID. The world is peaceful. There should be no sin : There need not be, or misery, any more. Yon blue is loftier than the changing wind, And spreads serenely back of cloud and storm To show us what we might be. Wherefore strive ? Faith puts contention quietly aside, Smiles, and is master. {Rhoda overtakes him.) I have need of you, My Rhoda. Sooner than the signs announced, The time draws nigh. Here, walk beside me now At the beginning, as it were the end. RHODA. I was not frightened. All you said was true. Scene III.] THE PROPHET. 1 7 I thought you answered as one having power ; And so did many others. DAVID. Rhoda, look ! How yonder little cloud is all afire, As if a rose unshrivelled so could burn, That was so gray and dull ! Even such am I. I cannot help the color, nor escape The light that shines upon me. You will be Yon other cloud, that mingles with the first While now we gaze ; and let the multitude Spread as the clammy meadow-mists below, That never saw the sunset ! RHODA. And I feared That you might be disquieted in soul ! — Your peace and strength leave all the trouble mine. I can but take whatever light is yours, That is not wasted from a nobler use. I will not speak of mine unworthiness ; For that were thankless censure of your heart, Which finds me worthy. DAVID. Proven so again ! You are a glass wherein I see myself Reflected as I change, — now clear, now dim, And soon (or else, I think, the earth shall cease) Clothed on with brightness, as a lamp with flame. RHODA. I pray that I may read what you intend. It must be so : how, otherwise, give help .? 2 1 8 THE PROPHET. [Act L DAVID. Will help be needed RHODA. Will not trouble come ? I have the feeling that foretells a storm When not a cloud has gathered, — sultry, strange, And full of restlessness which is not fear. This is of me alone : untouched are you By that which you regard not. DAVID. Let me be ! Stand off, keep silence, wait and hope ! One step Gives me the pathway ; but my lifted foot Feels in the dark, conjectures an abyss Where one bold thrust might touch the sohd base. My peace and strength, you said 1 There 's seeming peace When hope, desire, and prayer have done their most, And wait in agony the answer. Come ! I hardly feel the earth that bears me up. The sky is blazing ; all the air is gold ; And every hill-top is a step to heaven. \They pass on. Scene IV. The sitting-room of the farm-house, dusk, Hannah seated in an old arm-chair at the window. HANNAH. If half of Peter's story be the truth, The thing will make disturbance. Not of that, As him affecting, should I be afraid. Were not the place, and manner of his words, Scene IV.] THE PROPHET. 19 Weapons against him. Brooding men are rash When forced or cozened to declare themselves ; And he has made, if more his thought includes, Unwise beginning. Whither will it lead ? He angers me, who, in my younger days, Was often hotly angered with myself Without such bitter cause ; and, having led In love so long, I now must lead by blame. It is a pestilent business, and for nought ! I did not say a word against his choice, Though higher — he a man so proper, she As hundreds are — he had the right to look. And now this useless, flighty piece of work ! ELK AN A H ( entering) . Oh, yes ! you 've heard. Although I hardly see Your face, I know you know it. Well, this once I think we shall agree. HANNAH. First speak your mind. ELKANAH. My mind is yours. I always thought you wise As women may be : therefore there 's no cause To make this that, when all is clear as day. My name and standing in the neighborhood, And yours, are likely to be touched ; for none Will side with him. HANNAH. How .'' None ? Suppose him right Not rash or flighty, as the thing may seem. But wise and well-considered, shall he bear Unjust abuse, and we take no concern ? Then were our name and standing touched indeed ! 20 THE PROPHET. [Act I. ELKANAH. [Lifting up his hands.) Why, wedded forty years (the words are yours)j I cannot say beforehand, thus and so Will speak my wife, when wisdom, reason, sense. Have but one language. Did I call you wise ? I knew not what I said. The moon-struck boy First cracks the egg-shell of his addled brain ; And yours, to please him, then begins to split. HANNAH. Elkanah, hush ! But, nay ! speak as you list, And let your anger breathe itself on me. Though I be sore confounded, I withhold Untimely chiding, which confirms the fault Not felt as such by him ; and, if the thing Be verily justified, avoid a sin. Be gentle with your first and only born. DAVID. [Entering hastily). Father ! Mother ! HANNAH. Behold us here, my son ! DAVID. I will not call you any other names, Though all be granted. ELKANAH. As a favor, then ? Say more, or less, and let your riddles drop. My wits are dumb. Scene IV.] THE PROPHET. 21 DAVID. This must be the command. \Exif. ELKANAH, If ever ! Did you mark his lordly air ? Let us be thankful, that, because he made A strange disturbance in a godly place, He still acknowledges he is our son. HANNAH {rising). Oh, spare me any more ! 'T was not in pride He spake. He scarcely thought of us : his soul Is moved by madness, or a mighty truth. Or both in battle. All my blood grew cold : My limbs are trembling still. {She lights a lamp.) I fear the dusk. There was a bat before the window brushed, A hoot-owl cried. Well, call me anything — Mistaken, silly, weak — when this is past ; But now be kind. (David comes back. He pauses in the centre of the room, with a strange, rapt expressiojt of face.) Will you not speak to us, My son ! Declare so much as may be told : We listen. DAVID. {As if speaking to himself) Quarantania ! HANNAH. {After a pause.) Nay, nay, nay, This is no answer : do not frighten us ! 22 THE PROPHET. [Act I. Whatever purpose so disturbs your brain You cannot speak it, neither shape its form Clearly unto yourself, give words, but words : Silence is poison. DAVID. [Lozider than before.) Quarantania ! \He passes otit the door. HANNAH. Ah, He 's lost ! My husband, help ! the world is dark, [She falls in a swoon.) Scene V. A wild, rocky valley between hills covered with forests ; on the left an overhatzging cliff ; a small brook in the foreground. DAVID {solus). The second day is sinking to its end. How slowly ! These eternities of thought Wherein I grope, and strive to lose myself, Spin to a weary length the glaring hours. I would the night were come ; for I am faint. And from my hold the things I pray to reach Seem weakly slipping. Night will give them back, When every star shines comfort, and the air Is crossed all ways by print of noiseless feet That on mysterious errands come and go. Could I recall my vision ! All is clear Save that — my bed of leaves beneath the rock ; The doubt if I were still indeed myself. And any thing was what it seemed ; until Scene V.] THE PROPHET. 23 Came languid peace, then awe and shuddering Without a cause, a frost in every vein, And the heart hammered, as to burst mine ears. Something shd past me, cold and serpent-hke : The trees were filled with whispers ; and afar Called voices not of man : and then my soul Went forth from me, and spread and grew aloft Through darting lights — His arrows, here and there Shot down on earth. But now my knowledge fades : What followed, keener, mightier, than a dream. My hope interprets. Only his I know, — The dark, invisible pillars of the sky Breathed like deep organ-pipes of awful sound : A m)n"iad myriad tongues the choral sang ; And drowned in it, stunned with excess of power, My soul sank down, and sleep my body touched. {^He pauses, and looks aroimd.) The shadows will not lengthen. All my throat Seems choked with dust. I never knew before How beautiful may be a little brook. I cannot leave it, cannot turn mine eyes, So tempting and so innocent it runs. If I might drink ! The dry blood else may breed Fever and fiightiness. I must be sound, Or soon — {^He stoops suddenly, dips tip the water in his hand, and drinks. ) Oh, sweet as Cana's wedding-wine ! Did He not offer it .? Such sudden bliss. Born of the body, penetrates my brain ! I doubt no more : the vision will return. ( There is a rustling among the leaves. A snake thrusts its head forth from tinder a bush^ and gazes at him.) 24 THE PROPHET. [Act I. Temptation, was it ? and the tempter, thou. In thy first shape ? I will not be afeared. If thou hast power, come forth : if I, depart ! I dare the fascination of thine eyes : Look thou, lest mine subdue thee ! Is it so ? He veils the glittering, bead-like sparks, and turns, Startled, and winds in sinuous escape. Why, this is fresh fulfilment of the Word ! Faint not, my soul : the rest will surely come. \He walks slowly away. {After a little space enters) NIMROD KRAFT. Yon must be he they seek : he is the same I also seek ; but let me not be rash. If, by the spirit driven that bade him speak. He hides for meditation, or is verily daft, As they whose minds take up too sore a load, He must be humored. I will watch him close Until some act or gesture give me hint, And then approach discreetly. \He follows {Enter Rhoda and Peter.) PETER. Shall I call (He knows my whoop), or sing the hymn he made ? {Sings, hut not loudly.) " If one to yonder mountain saith, ' Be cast into the sea ! ' " There ! I forget the rest. RHODA. Nay, now ; keep still ! Scene V.] THE PROPHET. 25 I 've but a guess to guide me ; and it says He will not see us. Sure, that word betrayed His thought. But can this be the place ? or where ? Ah, while we wait, perhaps he 's lying dead ! FooHsh ! I know he lives. Some lives are safe, Because they are not meant for pleasant paths : Some wits keep sound, to work for other minds. I must not fear ; he would not have me fear : If he discover us, I must be shamed, Showing so Httle faith. PETER. And so much care ! If this goes on, I '11 shortly preach myself. I '11 give you sparrows for example, toads. And stupid owls : no one goes off alone. And t' other fears to look for 't ! Did the Lord Put such a powerful pressure on his head, To leave him, sudden, like a will-o'-the-wisp. The work unfinished ? Then 't was not the Lord. RHODA. You've spoken wiselier, Peter, than you think. PETER. So wisdom 's cheap ! I never valued much My random notions : what they call horse-sense I always had ; and that sometimes will serve Even folks that prance so high above our heads. Now, here 's the question : Is he like to starve ? You think he means to try it. Well and good ! — And we must search, but not find openly ; Feed him, without his knowledge ; watch his ways, And not be noticed. So I 've nought to do 26 THE PROPHET. [Act I. But look for tracks, and leave the provender : The risk is yours. {He goes slowly u;p the brook^ with a basket on his arm.) RHODA [solus). I try to force my soul To follow his, and question not the way. Within this valley, called the Wilderness, He must be hidden, if I understand. To win, in soHtude, the faith and power. 'T is pleasant, now : the shadows of the hills Soothe the hot leaves with dreams of coming dew ; The crannies of the serpent-haunted rocks No longer threaten ; and the water here Runs onward with a soft, contented sound. I will believe him safe. And what is night But as a darksome cloth that covers us ? Nothing can harm him, for he did no harm ; And that for which he goes apart from all Will be vouchsafed, or prayer is fruitless breath. PETER [rettirniitg). I found his track ! — beside yon biggest rock, On the flat sand, a little water-soaked. And made so freshly, that I stooped. You said He must not see us. RHODA. And you left him food ? PETER. Upon a shelf that jutted from the rock, Smooth as a platter. There 's no other place. Up stream or down, but briery thickets grow ; And, if he pass before the fowls o' the air Spy out his supper — Scene VI.] THE PROPHET. 27 RHODA. Come, it is enough ! So glad am I at having guessed aright, I crave no more, lest, pressing on too close, I spoil the certainty of what remains. \Exeimt, Scene VI. Another part of the valley ; Nimrod Kraft near some bushes ; David at a little distance. NIMROD. Behind these bushes I can watch at will. He thinks himself alone ; nay, not of that Thinks he at all : his gaze is bent aloft, Or falls, and roots itself before his feet. So young ! Yet even here he bears himself As one commissioned, who but waits the brief, With seal and clear subscription, ere he act. Why not ? Has God been sleeping all this while. Or only men ? They stand afar and strange. And count their generations Gentile still. Of Christian parents Christian children come, Baptized before begotten, then at birth Set back to ancient heathendom, and spoiled Of all their hoarded heritage. Not such Is he : he claims his birthright, will possess,- And may restore to others, bringing back The old, forgotten forces of the Church, Whose right hand is Authority, whose left Obedience. But, however he may build, My coarser strength must hew and set the stones. If but my purpose can be squared with his ! Since he has entered in this open tract 28 THE PROPHET. [Act I. His spirit wavers : I can see his lips Move, as do such that know not if they speak. There is no better moment : I will go. {He steps forth, and approaches David.) The soul within me hither turns my feet, And calls upon you. Guide me, help ; forgive If that my haste offend ! I come as he. Lame from his birth, that shouted, leapt, and ran, When once the gentle touch had made him whole. DAVID. {After a pause.) I healed you, then, not knowing. NIMROD. Marvel not ! There 's too much virtue in a perfect faith To take the measure of itself. You are ; And what you are, not knowing, is the power. DAVID. Nay, there ! What I invoke I cannot be. How know you aught of me 1 NIMROD. Yourself did make The revelation. When I saw your face Rise from the crowd, I said within my heart, " There 's one will sign his own free covenant ! He reaches high : my arms are short and strong ; But they may touch the gifts within his hand." You spake. I stood afar ; but in my mouth Came a sweet savor, though their husks and stones Still harsh and heavy on my stomach sat. Scene VL] THE PROPHET. 29 It needs no thousand words to make acquaint : There 's something runs in souls more close than blood Of them that issue from the selfsame womb ; And so in yours. I will not guess your prayer, But its fulfilment surely is at hand. DAVID {hastily). Make no conjecture ! Speak no further word ! There was a veil within the Temple : grant I may have lifted up its awful folds, And stand, not blasted yet, nor consecrate. NIMROD. So think of me as one that waits without, Silent, and hoping much. But, ere I go, {Kneels. ) I pray you lay your hands upon my head, And bless me, wishing that to my belief Be added understanding ; to my will, The power to serve ; to mine obedience, Some gracious gift. DAVID {aside). How, then ? Without the power Assume the office ? Yet a blessing dwells Within the heart of him that calls it down ; Or else he dare not. {To NiMROD.) As thou askest, so May it be given ! From laying here my hands Expect no unction more than I possess. NIMROD {rising). But more than I am worthy to receive 30 THE PROPHET. [Act I. Is even that, so filled am I with light ! And they, dumb souls, who for a single ray Shout " Glory ! " and are saved, — how could they bear The flood that enters me from you ? Farewell ! A part is granted : you have forced the gate. And stand with dazzled eyesight. When you see, Come back to men. lExit. DAVID. A powerful soul ! and yet Acknowledges authority in me. Why was I faint or doubtful ? Have I reached Too high, perchance, or dreamed commissioned power Should be by signs and wonders heralded, Not as the simple consequence of faith ? Faith is as beauty is : no maiden feels Through inner sense the glory of her face. But it shines back on her from who perceives. " With dazzled eyesight ? " Darkness comes of that ; And on the finished shrine He sank in cloud. If power unconsciously be held, I climb The while I seem to beat a weary round ; Possess authority beyond my sense ; Am Winded, yea, because so near the light ; And weak, since even now my shoulders bear The unwonted burden. Let the vision come ! It cannot fail : the first and largest star Already glimmers from the expanding vault. And milHons wait behind. So sure as they Shall pierce the veil when thickest, even so The first faint lamp within a seeking soul Foretells the revelations crowding on. Scene VIL] THE PROPHET. 31 Scene VII. A room in the farmhottse ; Elkanah, Hannah, David, Rhoda. HANNAH. I try to understand you : i£ I fail, The heart your baby head found comfort on Is not to blame. elkanah. It 's all a waste of words ! You look for duty, and it 's asked of you : Command, or wish, or plead, one answer comes, — He has "authority ! " So much I 've learned : When once a man says that, you might as soon Prevail upon a tortoise in the shell : No words go through it. I have said my say. If I had given you grief of heart ere this, Sinned unrepenting, disobeyed your will. What I have done would bring rejoicing now. There 's no perversity in whole desire, Or the receiving of the gifts unused Because unclaimed. I could not help but reach ; Then, plucking back my hand, I found it filled. What said you, mother, all my years of youth, But " Seek, and ye shall find " ? HANNAH. I did, my son. That you have sought, I know : that you have found, I will believe. But if a healthy tree, Grafted with apple, bearing apple-flowers, 32 THE PROPHET. [Act I. Should after yield a fruit we never saw, What man would taste until he knew it safe ? Thus from the hope I nursed springs all at once A something strange, sheer wonderment to me That gave your nature most. How can I say " Go on ! " not knowing whither, or, " Come back ! ' Haply from good ? RHODA. Say nothing, then, but wait : The way is fixed. I know not how I feel His purpose ; yet I feel, and follow him. Caught out of darkness, shall I turn my back Against the light ? or, spent from wildering ways, Refuse the path that makes my feet secure ? I did not seek my struggle : it was there. Why, men whose souls but burrow in their flesh To feed, like worms in apples early ripe, May say to mine : Be fat, and be content ! But me God sent the butterfly instead ; And it must flutter in the sun, or die. PETER {entering). A stranger stands outside. He 's one of them, It seems, that you, that they — But come yourself : Ten steps are easier than my telling it. DAVID. What will he ? PETER. Preaching. There, the word is out ! You '11 guess the rest. {Exit David. Scene VII.] THE PROPHET, 2>^ ELKANAH. The business just goes on As I expected ! When was notion bred By mortal brain, that did not set the tongue In gear, to run full-tilt ? He'll cackle, too. So long as folks find something in his ^gg ; Then, may be, when the thing's no longer fresh, There '11 be an end. He sows religious oats, A little heavier in the head, that 's all ; But thorns and stony ground will waste the crop, Or Gospel words mean nothing. PETER. [Aside to Rhoda.) All the talk (So this man says) in our and other towns Is nought but David : there 's no end of tales. The moral of it they don't rightly know. And bend their ear-flaps, like a restless horse, To catch some new particular. If, now, He has the call to preach, they have to hear. 'Twill come to that. {Exit. HANNAH. I never thought of you As of a daughter, Rhoda ; yet I see That in your heart his ways are justified. As in his own yourself. Men love the will That bends to theirs ; and she who fain would guide Must seem to follow. I 've directed him Too long to make a new, obsequious change : The place is yours. But, O my daughter (hence I '11 call you so), remember, never man. Though gifted, raised, and made a power in the world, Sufficed unto himself ! Else he were god ; 3- 34 THE PROPHET. [Act I. And she, the nearest, first, interpreting All womankind to him, he, men to her. Is called, as well, to claim her half of truth, So testing his. I may have borrowed care Where it was not intended : all that 's come Is what my natural sight had long foreseen, Were it not partial. I must needs unloose The precious bond of guidance, let him go, And pray far-off, where once I held him close, And breathed my heart in his believing ear. RHODA. Grapes cannot come from thorns, but neither thorns From fruitful vines. It is his blossom-time. When storm or sudden chill may stint the fruit : He should be sheltered. But my speech is scant ; And what I say sounds other than I feel. So new the life is which he brings to mine, So strange, exalted, I forget myself ; And, when he needs another's tongue, I fail. You love him, you will shortly understand. I will not take an atom that was yours In all his thought : what he bestows on me Is only love ungranted otherwise. Scene VIII. The same as Scene V. Some of the thickets on both sides of the brook have been roughly cleared away. A mcjuber of country - people, chiefly men, are gathered in the space thus made, — some seated on scattered stones, and stumps of trees ; others approaching by the footpath from belotu. Strong stmshine a7id heavy shadow alternately ; an uncertain sky, portending storm. FIRST MAN. T is a fool's errand that we come, I fear. Scene VIII.] THE PROPHET. 35 SECOND. He '11 keep his word. FIRST. Perhaps ; but was it given ? THIRD. Ay, given to me. I offered him a chance Open to use or let alone : he took As eagerly as one that in the road Sees a stray gold-piece. SECOND. Be he cracked or sane, Four days, they say, he fasted hereabouts. Then, fresh and fair, went home. I 'd not beheve, But for accounts of such and stranger things Before our time. FIRST. He 's nowise different From you or me. A little fresh conceit. Like yeast, will puff a brain above its pan. THIRD. It 's more than that in him. He looked straight through The face I had, and saw what lay below, — Namely, no faith, but some curiosity, A little fun, withal ; I hardly know, — And smiled, but in a queer, forgiving way, That hurt me afterwards. SECOND. Stay, there he comes ! I mark no flighty or conceited airs, — A plain young man, pale face, and shining eyes : 36 THE PROPHET. [Act I. He mounts the rock. See how the sun comes out, And strikes his head ! Be silent, you ! Sit down, Make no disturbance, let him speak his mind ! DAVID. ^Standing upon the rock, sings: Rhoda and Peter, beloWy join in the hymn.) Oh, praise the Lord, the Giver! Relieve His burdened hands ! His miracles deliver The congregated lands : He poureth as a river, And we but take the sands. His fruitful boughs are shaken ; His bounties fall as rain : We sit with souls mistaken. In penitence and pain : Awaken, world, awaken, And spread His feast again ! SECOND MAN. A gay beginning ! I could join in that With all my voice, In many churches. FIRST. They sing to lively tunes THIRD. Yes, but say, the while, They 're stolen from the Devil. May be so ; But then the Devil must be a jolly soul, And angels doleful as Begone.^ dull Care J DAVID. What come ye out to see ? A reed in the wind ? But if God's lips unto a reed be set, — Scene VIII.] THE PROPHET. 37 The dryest one that whistles in the marsh, — There comes a music that can soothe the world. I make no claim : I tried to understand The many promises that rust unused ; And all I asked, was. Are they granted yet ? Then, rising high as agony of prayer May lift a mortal, lo ! the answer came. Show me the term, or limit ! There is none : Restore conditions, you restore the power ; And He who waited for a thousand years Will manifest His wonders. They who teach, You say, are silent as to this ? Why, then Let them make answer ! Gifts of many tongues. Of healing, miracle, and prophecy, Given to His followers, by them to theirs, Are buried treasures for this drowsy race. He offering helmet, buckler, sword, and spear, — Armor of proof, — perchance a shepherd's staff We take, reluctant, mendicants where He Awaits the guests that know their welcome sure. So dust and cobwebs fill the temple ; so The cedarn beams are rotted in their place ; The trumps and timbrels crack, and wake no more The songs of Zion : all is desolate. As we were Israel that turned away ! 'T is time a mighty wind should whirl the chaflf From idle threshing-floors : my breath is weak, So others not increase it, yet thou. Lord, Who knowest whether I deserve or no Thy signs of power, — who, should I point, as now, My finger at the crest of yonder rock. And say, " Be thou removed ! " — [A part of the rock crashes down with a great noise and re- verberation. Cries of terror, and much confusion among the people.) 38 THE PROPHET. [Act I. VOICES. It falls ; it falls ! The world is coming to an end ! He spake, And it obeyed ! A prophet, yea, a prophet ! DAVID. ( Who has remained quietly standing upon the rock, pale and rapt. ) Be not afraid ! The power that works within, If it but shiver down one crumbling edge Of old indifference, is mightier yet. Therefore, I take it from His open hand. Who made yon stones to fall. I hurl on you His arrows, and the shinmg of his spear : I bid believe, not me, but what, renewed, In me is manifest: I call you back From pools made muddy by the paddling feet Of darkened generations, to the fount He cleft, now gushing in a desert land. He waits, how long ! His summons, day by day — ( Thunder and lightning.) VOICES. We do believe you. Turn His wrath away ! A Prophet, yea, a Prophet ! DAVID. There He spake, Doubt not, as oft of old, — but now attend The voice within you, which is He indeed. Oh ! spread Thy banners on the streaming wind, Come as the Morning, broaden as the Day, Fill the dark places with Thy healing light ; And, once Thy reign assured, cast me aside, Scene VIII.] THE PROPHET. 39 So glorified in mine unworthiness, Because I saw when Thou didst touch mine eyes ! Come, now, in thunder and the clouds of heaven, And purifying cisterns of the rain, To wash Thy world, and fit it for the sun ! Thy day is near at hand : the glory shed With all Thy promises shall doubled, be On all Thy gifts ! {A storm arises, — thunder, wind, and rain.) VOICES. A Prophet, yea, a Prophet ACT II. Scene I. Afternoon. The crest of a rise, or swell, in a broad prairie. To the westward, in the distance, a line of timber, denoting the course of a stream ; a train of emigrant-wagons scattered along the road thither. On the crest a solitary wagon, its canvas cover partly folded back. David and Rhoda, ivith a child in her lap, seated in it ; Peter standing at the horses' heads. RHODA. ■\70U 'RE weary, husband : is it far to camp ? DAVID. Two hours, — to yonder smoky line of trees. The signs of heaven are fair: the earth beheves In them, and, glad as any living thing, Smiles far and wide. The sky is larger here, And brighter ; other hfe is in the winds ; The grass is lost beneath the waste of flowers : It is our promised land. RHODA. At last ! DAVID. Ah, me ! This weight and perilous sinking of the heart, That ever looks before, or stubbornly Scene I.] THE PROPHET. 41 Tastes the o'ercome distresses of the past ! I gave the guidance of my mind away, To be uplifted : now, on lower things, — On trial, parting, woe of ignorant love, — I dwell, as were they shadows coming on. Peter {sings). We are swallows seeking the land of spring : We are faint, we have far to roam : When shall we fold the weary wing, Lord, in Thy promised home ? Home ! We are bomid for the promised home ! DAVID. How is it that I still upbear their souls ? The land, the temple, and His coming reign. Through me and their acceptance of my power. Fill and content them : I should be content, If human memories were not obstinate As human needs. Do you remember still The day that tried me most, and mother's words, — " I cannot follow you, and dare not hold : Farewell ! we shall not meet on earth again ? " What I obeyed expunged the seeming wrong, But not its lingering sense ; for while the wind Blows softly over these unpeopled plains, And in the middle watches of the night, And when the young birds cheep their wish for morn, I hear her say, and see her tearless eyes, — " I cannot follow you, and dare not hold : Farewell ! we shall not meet on earth asfain." 1 42 THE PROPHET. [Act II. RHODA. {Bending over her child.) Sleep, baby, sleep ! The wind will blow the flowers, The trees will drop their berries, all for thee ! Peter [si^igs). We will build the temple broad and high, And crowned with a golden dome ; For the day of the Lord is surely nigh, When we reach the promised home. Home ! We shall dwell in the promised home ! DAVID. They shame me, who have also left their all. Save, nurtured with an easier hope, they bear A lighter sorrow ; yet as day by day Their hosts increase, so mounts the sum of faith. There was a woman came, a week agone, To hear my message : on the outer edge Of those few gathered in the dusky hall She sat, and fixed me with her wondrous eyes. At first I said, 'T is Mary Magdalen, When sin forgiven still left her virtue sad ; But, kindled with my words, the while I drew A picture of the Kingdom, she became Queen Esther, as in Shushan's royal house She touched the sceptre, — proud, obedient. Sure of the end. A power came forth from her, As if of wings companioning mine own. Can she beheve, nor follow ? RHODA. Rather think Scene I.] THE PROPHET. 43 On these your faithful flock. If she have power, Indeed, the greater sin of pride is hers, Whose gold and gay apparel are her gods. DAVID [imisingly) . The light of guidance never was so clear And then deceived : what instruments I have — Rough hands of workmen, by whose awkward use The gifts almost become a mockery — Still leave me helpless when the finer sense Would snatch from floating lines a plan supreme. There must be law, pure discipline of lives. Foundations set, and pleasant sheepfolds made In desolate places. Ah ! were only one But near me, bathed in equal bliss of faith, To see, where I am dazzled, and to say, '* Build higher ! here enlarge the pillared front, There push thy climbing pinnacles aloft ! " Even light is lonely to a human soul. Two glories are there ; and but one they know. Save her who saw, then closed reluctant eyes. RHODA. Can you be faint of spirit while by you We all are led ? Then is the body weak. And rest will be your medicine. DAVID (/d? Peter). Go on ! PETER. {Driving onward, sings.) The bolts of the Lord shall fall and burn On Babylon and on Rome ; 44 THE PROPHET. [Act II. But the chosen seed shall safe return, To dwell in His promised home. Home ! We have found His promised home ! Scene II. Night. A camp on the banks of a small stream. Men, women, and children grouped about fires under the trees. In the cen- tre a tent., before which a pole., stuck in the earth, bears a blazing torch. Outside of the camp a guard is heard to chal- lenge so77ie one approaching. After the password, ^' Zion^'' enter NiMROD Kraft. He dismounts from his horse, and draws near the tent. NIMROD. Hail, Prophet David ! Grace and blessing be To all the chosen ! DAVID. Be the words fulfilled ! You come beforehand, like the dove, to say The waters settle, and the olive-tree Puts forth new leaves. We shall possess the land. NIMROD. We do possess it. On the highest bluff That overlooks full twenty miles of stream, Now stand a hundred cabins : we have staked The streets, first measured with the holy reed, * And broken cornfields from the stubborn sod. And set young gardens round about the place. That much do flourish. Every work is blessed : Even the quarry-stones come loose in squares, As if they hastened to be lifted up, And made the temple. Scene II.] THE PROPHET. 45 DAVID. Ah ! when once it stands, A visible sign, a shelter for our ark ! NIMROD. Even so we feel. They give their tithing-time In faith and in rejoicing : I have used The power you delegated to my hands, Sifted the wheat, and sent some chaff adrift, Fixed ordered rule, exacted industry, And so blocked roughly out what you may shape To pure proportions : as my work below Grows up, may yours complete it from above ! Let all the frame-work needful for our flock, As shelter, or enclosing law, be raised. And quickly ! I have given you the Twelve ; Yet they debate, methinks, or seek to know Who shall sit highest. NIMROD. Thus it was of old. Your headship must remain ; for you alone Possess direct commission. Let them see — They whom your messengers found here and there, And, not beholding, none the less beheve — What power is yours. A little thing 's enough. DAVID. What mean you ? NIMROD. Well, I find it natural. Your coming vdll be made a holy day ; For all shall then be gathered as a brood 46 THE PROPHET. [Act II Beneath your wings. And something they expect, Some sign, or show, as reconfirming faith ; Or revelation, such as ignorant souls Gape at and glory in. None promised this : But they believe, and therefore they expect. DAVID. When I was small, I planted once a tree, Then every second morning plucked it up To see if it were growing. Summer came ; And while the others, left alone, were green, Mine pined and perished. Give the flock, instead, This parable. NIMROD. They would not understand. Transplanted faith (let me the rather say) Needs watering, shelter, all the gardener's care, Till it be rooted. Ponder this yourself. Put on your sandals ; leave the holier ground. And walk in dust among the miultitude : So shall you feel their need. DAVID. I never asked But what is offered freely unto all. There is no flame, it seems, that of itself Will burn in earthly air ; but, then, is flame. When fed from coarser aliment, less pure ? Water pollutes itself from what is washed ; But fire takes up its own, and spurns the dross. If that were possible to me ? NIMROD. Yourself Shall winnow, with a finer fan than ours. Scene II.] THE PROPHET. 47 Whom we have gathered. All is ready, else. I will not keep your body from its rest. With Hugh and Jonas, members of the Twelve, I must consult, so portioning the homes, That none shall mark advantage of the rest. The flock is jealous : softly on the nose Must we pat every sheep, as well as feed. \Exit. DAVID. ( To Rhoda, who has overheard the dialogue) There goes a sense with which I cannot strive, So well it builds, and so obediently ; Yet power is lessened when it touches me. RHODA. I did not hke the man, w^hen he — I mean His hardness first repelled ; but now, perhaps, He is the coarser fuel, you the flame ; And each may need the other. I, too, feel That they which follow, never having seen. Deserve a sign. DAVID, If so, the Lord will send. \Exit mto the tent, RHODA. Not their belief, but who it is believes. Gives him support. That was a happy time. When we alone went wandering through the land ; For few could jeer, though many sore abused ; And ever here and there a soul was caught Out from the Gentiles, and was glad with us ; And Zion with its temple shone afar, More beautiful, I think, than now at hand. 48 THE PROPHET. [Act II. I must not murmur : we are verily blessed, Put past the reach of persecuting hands, And guided so, that this fair wilderness Already bears the roses as we pass. Scene III. Another part of the camp. Nimrod, Hugh, and Jonas, seated near a fire. HUGH. He will not, think you ? NIMROD. Nay, I said not that. I only charge that nothing be proclaimed; Then whatsoever come, if so it come, Will have more operation. See, the flock Is over-hungry for continual signs ; Which, could they be bespoken, would be nought But independence of the Lord. JONAS. Maybe. But I that chose the gift of healing, I That have obeyed in all things, I should heal ! If he must husband up his power to spend On higher miracles, enough is mine For lesser work : so strengthen, then, my hands. That they on whom I lay them shall be whole. NIMROD. The wish may choose : possession comes by faith. Know surely that you have it, and you have. Scene III. J THE PROPHET. 49 JONAS. How know without a test ? NIMROD'. Ah ! there you lack The last anointing ; there the prophet stands Transparent in his own internal Hght, While yours is cloudy still. When you foresee The heahng of your hands, your hands will heal. HUGH. So works the gift ? But, if his foresight be Indeed so perfect, it were well to say, As cheer to some, and guidance unto all. This member strays, that rises ; these receive. Or lose, — that our authority be firm: For such picked out for higher reach of faith Will stand, supporting us, above the rest. NIMROD. First show them patience ! Gathered here and there, The dust of other life upon their shoes. The stagnant blood of other creeds not yet Purged from their veins, the Gentile taunt still loud In ear and memory, restless from the change And long privation of the pilgrimage. They hear but halfly : we must give them rest. Fitting their shoulders to an easy yoke. Filling their cribs, and warmly bedding them. Till they will rather serve within our fold Than rule outside of it. JONAS. Is all prepared so THE PROPHET. [Act II. For us who come ? The people hear of those Who, first arriving, may be better placed. NIMROD. I did not take my gift of prophecy In vain : so ye declare it unto all. Contentment waits for woman, man, and child ; But to yourselves I promise more belief. Go, hither bring the tally of 'your men : My work is yet unfinished. \Exit Hugh and Jonas. All alike ! No one is certain that he has the power. Unless his neighbor says so. Tell them, then, They govern, governing myself the while. So far were easy : yet from him comes forth The fire that makes their dull cold metal bend; And when to kindle it is in his will, Not mine. He has a look of weariness, And out of languor comes no miracle. But oft, from very expectation, springs The thing expected, if a cooler skill Command the heat of others. What she plans — If anything, indeed — I cannot guess ; Not even whether like or dislike looked From eyes that only seemed to hide her thought. Turn either way, I 'm poking in the dark. Well, well ! the morrow is the clearer day. Scene IV.] THE PROPHET. 51 Scene IV. — The City. A street on a high, airy plateau, overlooking the course of a great river. In the centre stand the unfinished walls of the temple ; opposite to them a house larger than the others, its front himg with garlands, and an arch of green boughs span- nijzg the entrance. The people, several hundred in number, are drawn tip in lines on both sides of the street, with branches in their hands. Shouts are heard in the distance, announc- ing the arrival of the train : then David appears on horse- back, a little in advance, bare-headed, and wearing a long white mantle : the people cast their braiuhes before him. HYMN. We have left the land of Egypt For the place of our desh-e: Fallen is the gated city, And the woe thereof is dire : The boughs of the tree are withered, And the women set them on fire ! Lo ! who is he that cometh In the name of the Holy One ? The bearers of gladsome tidings Before his pathway run : He bringeth us out of darkness, As the star that brings the sun. {The women step forward on each side, and sing, LiViA ROM- NEY, with a crown in her hand, standing in the midst.) Hail, all hail, to the prophet. Whose reign begins to-day ! Who hath laid his firm foundations In the dust of the world's decay : He maketh the dry bough blossom ; He gathers the sheep that stray. 52 THE PROPHET. [Act II. DAVID {aside). It is herself ! How beautiful she stands, Forgetful of the stare of wondering eyes, And filled with promise of mysterious power \ She 's Miriam now, and sings deliverance. I breathe again : the weight falls off my soul, As poising rocks are started by a sound ; And I am glad and strong for what may come. LIVIA. {Stepping foTward. ) Thrice hail, O Prophet ! Bow but once before Thy humble handmaid, not as honoring her, But that she reach thy consecrated brow. (David be7tds down his Jiead: she places the a^own tipon it.) Forgive me, that, when first I did believe, I failed to follow : thus it came to pass I went before to seal mine evidence, Lest that were vain which I would ask of thee. HUGH. {To NiMROD.) Who is the woman ? NIMROD. More than is her name I cannot say. 'T is but four days ago She landed from the river. Worldly store She seems to have, and knowledge of the world, Notable cunning of the hand and eye, And influence with her sex — perhaps with ours. Foremost in planning this array was she ; Went here and there ; was always first and last ; J Scene IV.] THE PROPHET. 53 And therefore fell to her, by proper right,' The place she wanted. DAVID. {After a pause.) Thou art one of us. There is no high or low : each bows to each In whom the Spirit hves. I saw thy faith, And called thee : well it was that thou didst hear. Not they who yield when buffeted by words, And shaken by the signs, but they who feel. Like wandering birds, where lies the summer-land, And strike their way across the printless air, Build up the kingdom. Thine obedience Is as a soil for planting of the power. What is it thou wouldst ask .? ^ LI VI A. The gift of tongues. DAVID. [After looking in her face a moment, beckons. She comes nearer.) Take thou the gift, in measure as thy faith Shall justify, and even so exercise ! LIVIA. {Steps back apace, keeping her eyes fixed on David. She rises to her full height, with uplifted head, and points towards the temple.) Aire pametha loyddr dndis abarka ! {Movements and mtcrmurs amoitg the people.^ A MAN. What tongue is that 1 54 THE PROPHET. [Act IL A SECOND. It must be ancient Greek, Or Hebrew, maybe, as Isaiah spoke. The sound is glorious. A THIRD. Never did I hear Such mighty words. Our preacher once came down With " Armageddon, Pandemonium, Baal ; " But they were nought to hers. THE FIRST. 'T is prophecy ! He understands : his face is like a flame. LIVIA. Orathmeddn adra, bannorim adra slavo ! {Rapidly and eagerly,) It shall arise ! The tempests of the world Shall not prevail against it ! Every stone Shall testify ! — from its completed towers A light go forth till darkened Edom sees ; And here, even here, where our Shechina stands, When all mankind is gathered to our fold. Shall angels plant the ladder of the Lord For his descending ! Be ye not as them That craved new signs, and were rebuked of Him ! Who feeleth not the presence of the power Above us, in us, moving in our works. And only sparing insomuch as saves From easy heart, slack will, and idle hand, Let him go forth ! Scene IV.] THE PROPHET. 55 CRIES OF THE PEOPLE. Nay, nay, we will abide ! DAVID. Forget that you have ever lived ere now ! As strips the serpent her uneasy skin, And comes forth new and shining, cast ye out Old hopes and hates, old passions and desires ! Be as a fallow field that waits new seed : Take rain and sunshine in their times ; lie bare To the invisible influence of heaven ; And be assured from your warm breast shall spring The holy harvest ! Ye have welcomed me With faithful hearts and voices : so, henceforth No more as one that in the wilderness Cries to the stocks and stones, shall I be heard, But as a father 'mid his children teach. And as a brother 'mid his brethren love, And as one chosen lead ye all to share An equal power and glory. THE PEOPLE. Hail, all hail ! NIMROD. ( Coming forward. ) Here is your home : by her on whom the tongue Descended at your bidding, it was dressed. The humble house is like a bride that waits The bridegroom's coming : enter, and be blessed ! I, and my brethren of the Twelve, have charge That all, ere nightfall, shall be snugly housed, New brethren mixed with old, but in such peace And kindly fellowship, as, until now, Hath not been witnessed, to the world's disgrace ! S^ THE PROPHET. [Act II. THE WOMEN. [At a sign fro77i LiviA, sing.) Make haste, Beloved of Zion ! The porch and the chamber shine : We have gathered the myrrh and manna, And filled the flagons with v^^ine : Now comfort the souls of thy daughters, As the Lord shall comfort thine. (David waits, standing tmder the arch, while Peter assists Rhoda to alight from the wagon.) PETER. Well, here 's the end ! Our Zion 's rather bare, But makes a good beginning. RHODA. {Giving him her child.) Carry him, But hold him gently : he is tired and scared. I, too, am wearier than I thought to be. And hardly happy in beholding home Till I possess it. David, come with me ! [ They enter the house. Scene V. The council-room. Night., Nimrod Kraft, Hugh, Jonas, Simeon, and tzuo other members of the Tzvelve. NIMROD. All now are housed and sleeping : first their souls Were satisfied, and then their bodies soothed. On this rock must we build. The arch of truth Requires abutments in the life of flesh : It cannot hang in air. See, therefore, ye, Scene V.] THE PROPHET. 57 That these the weak foundations of our state Be firmer settled. Scourge the drones away ; Over the labor needful unto each Be labor added for the sake of all ; Let him whose lips are not anoint believe With hand and sinew ! JONAS. If the hand should doubt ? Equality of service and of power Was promised them ; and many bear the yoke As they that seem to stoop, and mean to spring. NIMROD. Equality ? Yes, were there equal faith ! Not yet dare I to measure mine by his, The Prophet's, since the token lies in power. They sleep ; we watch for them : why, let them watch, And we will sleep ! SIMEON. Then wolves would rend the fold. The new life must begin : he spake the word. It will be hard ; but we submit to him, And they not more so, in obeying us. JONAS. How far will he concede ? The government, Scarce framed as yet, will he alone direct, Uncounselled, or be led to side with them Who, standing nearest, easier prevail ? Whence comes decision, when opinions clash ? NIMROD. By revelation. 58 THE PROPHET. [Act II. SIMEON. May it come at need ! HUGH. We, the apostles of the wandering church, Should be, of right, foundations here. NIMROD. He takes, Lifts up, or sets aside. You know my work, If it be good. I never thought to say, " Reward me ! " but whatever implement, — Scythe-blade, or sword, or knife that scullions use, — His hand has need of, he will find me that ! JONAS. {Aside to Hugh.) When one is sword already, sharpened too. The offer 's glibly made. NIMROD. I say but this : It was my providence to know him first. To see descending on him, like a flame. The Spirit : near, because alone, I stood. But am less near than he who more believes. What use of prying words ? 'T is signs we need. Accord of all, the temple-walls complete With roof and pinnacle, the shrine set up, Symbolic vessels, altar, veil, and ark. New psalms of praise, and joyfulness of hymns. All this made visible, their faith is firm, And their impatient thoughts, now floating loose In every wind, will settle, and have rest. {^Exit Hugh, Jonas, and others. Scene V.] THE PROPHET. 59 SIMEON. You touched his secret sore, — I name no names, — Kept tender, as I guess, by discontent Of womankind. You 've seen the kind of wife That never wholly justifies the man, And, when he follows, straightway shifts her mind To make new disagreement : such is she. With brethren one must be considerate. As you have been ; but those, whom now he makes Apostles, should not wear a home-made bit. That I am widowed, nigh a blessing seems, Though mine respected me. NIMROD. The words I spake Were but the Prophet's unpronounced desires. I am the nearest yet, because I keep A circle round him clear and unprofaned. That so his soul be tempered to receive Continual revelations. They mistake Probation, preparation, for the end ; But that which draws the few is not enough To sow infection in the blood of all, And overcome the world. Much more awaits, And grander : are you as the fallow earth ? SIMEON. Yea, passive as a field the sower treads. NIMROD. 'Tis well : till he shall order otherwise, Be led by me ! Go, now, and counterwork The small dissensions : I have other tasks. It was a wonderous sign that heralded The Prophet's coming : keep the wonder fresh 6o THE PROPHET. [Act II. In all, yet raise not wild and over-wrought Expectancy of more. The woman's power Renews another ancient virtue lost, — Zion shall have its prophetess ! I go To give my homage, and to arm for us A Deborah, — a chieftainess of the faith. Scene VI. A room in the Prophet's Jiouse. Rhoda seated near the window, sewing; the baby asleep in a cradle at her feet; David at a desk, lookiitg over some papers. DAVID. The man must have commission from the Lord, To plan such perfect system : not the bees Get wax and honey, build their brittle combs, And organize their kingdom of the hive. So faultlessly. My loss of power through him Was but a fancy bred .of weariness ; For what he asked of my unwilhng soul Came, half a marvel to myself. RHODA. I, too. Have thought him hard : he lacked your sweeter fire. Yet surely something kindly planned this home, Not chance, to give the dear familiar rooms We first were happy in. Young trees are set, Like children of the old ones following us. In the same places, by the southern porch ; And in the garden — foolishly I cried To find the cushions of the mountain-pink And yellow-flags, and fragrant soythern-wood. Scene VI.] THE PROPHET. 6l Can this again be taken ? Will there come Auo-ht to disturb us ? DAVID. Nay, it cannot be. We build too surely : we are set alone In a new land. Why should the Gentiles mock The boasted precedent whereon they build, Their right of conscience, by molesting us ? [Enter Peter.) PETER. The town is ringing with the miracle. Whether 't was Hebrew, or the sort of tongue That Adam spoke, they 're not exactly sure ; But 't was a prophecy, and will fulfil. Then, since it seems there 's here and there a man Talks Dutch, or French, or maybe Cherokee, — They 're all as one to them that never learned, — She understood 'em ! 'T was a coming down Of tongues, they say, just like what happened once Away in Mesopotamia. DAVID. Given at need ! By this I know the woman's lofty faith, And eminence of prayer. Why, save myself, Not one hath been so visited. New flames Circling mine own, kindled in souls like hers, Will help fend off the slow, devouring chill That from the fiend is blown. RHODA. I thought her strange, Scarce one of us, so grand and beautiful 62 THE PROPHET. [Act II. And unabashed. I should be grateful, though, She drew away so many eyes that else Had stared in wonder I should be your wife. PETER. They say, in getting up the welcome-home, And such pontificals, she steered the raft. Willing or not, or knowing things or not. All, somehow, lent a hand : she had a way To make them satisfied with what they did. Talk of the — well, it nearly slipped that time — Of her, and she appears. \Exit. RHODA [aside.) I cannot stir. Lest baby wake ; and sure my place is here ; Yet would that she were come and gone again ! (LiViA eitters : she is simply but elegantly dressed in a black silk robe, and wears a white "veil upon her head.) DAVID. ( Taking her hand) Be welcome, sister ! If I thank you less For honor paid than for unstinted faith, I most am grateful. LIVIA. What I fain had said Falls back upon my heart as hollow sound. Your soul hath read, and, reading, spares me words That only stammer when my own would sing. The marvellous hght that entered me from you I cannot fathom, nay, nor merit it. Except in yielding, in receiving all. Scene VI.] THE PRO r TIE T. 63 As woman may, in whom the sense is quick To conquer reason which resists in man. I was a harp-string, mute until you touched: If to your ear the sound be melody, Strike out of me the strong, full-handed chords To your exaltment ! DAVID. [Aside, as 'LiYiA goes forward to Rhoda.) When was ever such ? The clear-eyed spirit, so superbly housed. The power that bends in soft subservience, The gift that beams on all except herself, — Yea, she is chosen ! Yea, from out her eyes. And from her hands, and breathing forth from her, Is promise ! LIVIA. ( To Rhoda.) To touch and warm the Prophet's weary hands, And, after shining visions, to restore The virtue of his dazzled eyes, be kind, I pray, and friendly ! I would hdiVQ your love, His confidence. My life was not as yours, Ah, me ! as simply innocent and pure; And yet, methinks, for them that meet in truth. There 's but a single gateway to the heart. rhoda [slowly). I think I never hated such as seemed Unfriendly : if I fail to love, when love Invites me first, I were not worthy it. 64 THE PROPHET. [Act II. LIVIA. {Timing to David.) My lines of life, as they draw near to you, Lie clearly traced ; yet, as they backward tend, Lead to confusions which, ere knowing them, Your pardon touched. The spoiled child of the world Was I until I saw you ; born in wealth, And cradled 'mid the shows and vanities Religion covers with a modish cloak. Pride to the right, to left stood Piety : Each took a hand, and grimly led my life Along the pavement trod by feet of all. When I would wander free, as whoso feels Some independent right of soul, gave Pride A downright blow that stung • but Piety Pinched me in secret, while her leaky eyes Wept rivers, and her whining voice bewailed. Then I submitted, lived a ceaseless lie. Till death and changes had delivered me From all but wealth. But, ah ! my fettered limbs Were dwarfed and shrunken : I was free to move, When motion was but pain. I saw the world As one beholds a casket, and the key Thereof is lost. I stood outside of life. Helpless to reach existence I desired. Disgusted with existence which I knew, Until you said, or through your soul I heard, "Daughter, arise !" and I arose and came. DAVID. Not I, but what in me was manifest. LIVIA. It is the same. By you alone I heard, Scene VI.] THE PROPHET. 65 Through you am satisfied. I hardly knew What gift to claim, till something in your face Gave me the words. But now, farewell ! I go To cheer, perchance to help, the others. \Exit. DAVID. Go! Delivered, thou, and crowned ! A woman's hand I had forgotten — yet it saved of old, And here may build, as well. RHODA. Your lamp is lit You know whereat ; and theirs are lit from yours. DAVID. Fire hath one being : 'tis the life that makes Obscure or luminous ; and hers, suppressed By darkening hands, breaks out in splendid blaze. She waited for me : I have bid her shine ! ACT III. Scene I. A room in the Prophet's house. David, Nimrod, and LiViA seated at a table upon which lie papers and plans. Rhoda at the window looking upon the garden, with some needlework in her hand. NIMROD. IT means not failure. Still our armor shines, Our weapons cleave ; but they whose power we shake, The lazy priesthood of neglected law, Have clothed themselves with cunning, to evade Direct assault : so on their flanks exposed Must we surprise them. DAVID. Yet I would not haste. Even after goodly battle, here we sit Not quite secure ; for jealousy of some, Unreasoning hopes that in denial end. And selfish fretting o'er each needful curb, Still task our wisdom : hardly can we spare The fine, selected strength your purpose claims. NIMROD. There is no virtue but fatigues itself. A sudden truth uplifts with violence The prostrate human soul ; but once exhaust Scene I.] THE PROPHET. 67 The first impulsion, see how weak it stands ! So there 's a crisis this side of success In highest things : our lot, this hour, is weighed With that of all neglected, powerless tribes, That have no life but in the founder's name. If here we pause, we may become as they ; But if, accepting every sign of power As loan, or test, until another come. We lime new branches, and extend our nets To snare men's fluttering souls, we shall possess, In time, the world. LIVIA. Surely no less will you, Our prophet ; and no atom less will we. That few are gathered now, and halting minds Grow restless, casts no shadow on the truth ; For souls are verily but as frightened birds That beat themselves against the pane, and shun The hand that catches them to set them free. NIMROD. Well spoken ! Nothing more have I proposed. DAVID. I hoped direct, immediate influence — The power that kindles, burns, and purifies — Might be all-potent : yet, if men avoid The touch of healing, must be first constrained. Till health and gratitude together work To bring them here, I cannot but receive. NIMROD. Then, if they come, why question how they come ? The life delivered never faulty finds 6S THE PROPHET. [Act III. The manner of deliverance. I, once, When caught by drowning arms that would have drowned Me also, dealt a powerful blow that stunned And saved the man. LIVIA. Deal out your blows to men, And welcome ! Women claim a gentler touch. How many are there, discontented hearts That pine and wither, seeking sympathy Their sex denies, and yours in half-contempt Neglects to give ! For virile souls are coarse And awkward, being selfish : the plain way To woman's fast dependence (which she thinks Dependence on her) you would seek in vain, Unless an Ariadne gave the clew. NIMROD. Who, then, was she ? A Gentile woman, sure, Whom Paul converted. LIVIA. 'T is enough that she Was woman, and enough that also I Am woman. Once I dwelt in Rome, it chanced ; And thither came a spinster whom I knew, Free of the world, indifferent to love. Secure and calm in high intelligence, Armed at all points ; yet soon the Church espied Beneath cold breasts the vulnerable sense. The haughty priests, whose passionless, thin lips So rarely, but with dangerous sweetness, smile. The dreamy youths, the rosy acolytes. Sang to her, gave their faith the form of love, Till with new passion, as in budding years. Scene I.] THE PROPHET. 69 Her woman's heart, sore with long abstinence, Sent up narcotic heats that drugged the brain, And she was theirs. As easily were she ours ! There is no woman lives but in her soul Demands a bridegroom ; failing one of flesh, Then one of spirit. Learn to promise this In secret visitations, mystic signs, Make truth seem love, and knowledge ecstasy, And you will lead our sex. RHODA. • {Rising hastily.) Who, then, ^x^ you f What mother nursed you on such milk as this ? I have but scanty words ; but in my heart The woman, from her simple whiteness torn, And dipped in scarlet, cries, " Not thus are we ! Not thus the loneliness of maiden life. The hngering sorrow of frustrated love, And pure regret, and tender hope outlived, Seek compensation ! " Less than moveth man. Gives woman peace. The aged, innocent lives Of childless widows and unwedded maids Softly enclose us, young, and keep from harm : Denied their own, they guard another's brood. So gathering bliss. But of what kind are those Who find no truth, save men, forbid to wed, Or wived already, offer it as love ? LIVIA. Your innocence takes false alarm : the old, The gentle, fixed in narrow circumstance, Good by tradition and temptation's lack, Resist us most. Who was it came to call Not righteous men, but sinners ? Virtue lifts 70 THE PROPHET. [Act III A front the braver after knowledge comes, But is not knowledge first. I spake of that Whereof your ignorance is no reproach : The blessedness of life descends on you, But not on them you blame. DAVID. Reject not such ! 'T was so commanded : them the Devil traps It may be lawful that we snare in turn. We fight the Fiend, my wife : our triumph here Hath pricked him out of ancient confidence. NIMROD. The power is given : the secret of its use Is left to us. The first light dazzles men. And some reach forth, and grasp the guiding hand ; Then others say, with pupils narrowed in, " There is no need : we see but as we saw." Here, husbanding the busy strength of all. And wasting naught, the comforts we can spare Invite a double number : let them come ! And if, through weakness captured, they receive The gift of power ; through greed, unselfishness ; Through vain delusions, knowledge of the truth, — What fool will cast away the tested gold He gets, for promised copper ? LIVIA. Strange that men Who most do suffer must be driven to good ! They are as children bribed to take the draught That saves, even though the prophet's honeyed wine. Lo ! now the temple's gilded pinnacles The impatient sun hath kissed : across the land Scene II.] THE PROPHET. 71 They sharply shine like arrows drawn to head, And heavenward aimed ! The signs portend increase : Shall we alone be lean, while others burst With useless fatness ? DAVID. Call our messengers To learn a new commandment ! We must stay Their sinking hands, fill up their flickering lamps, And sting their souls with courage which o'ercomes, Since it foresees. One weapon given to all Were scarcely wisdom : lend the shorter arm A longer blade, the less-enduring force Advantage of the ground ! While they exist, The Gentile churches, must we spread or cease. I meant not idleness ; but, if so seems This pause of preparation, let us work Amid the noises of the ringing steel, Heat with quick hammer-blows where fire may fail,. And only rest when faint with victory ! Scene II. The council-room. David seated in an arm-chair at the head of a long table ; Nimrod at the foot ; on each side, six mem- bers of the Council of Twelve. DAVID. Not every leaf an equal bounty finds Of sap or sun ; yet rooted is our State To grow, and 'not to wither. We must sweep The troubled waters of the world, henceforth, In wider circles, luring to our ark Them, chiefly, for the covenant who yearn, 72 THE PROPHET, [Act III. And would behold, distinct as graven words, The signs thereof in us. If any here, In view of such advantage, hath inquired, And finds a partial answer in his soul, Let him be heard ! NIMROD. Some brethren, with myself (For scattered duties scarce allow, as yet. Full conference), have found accordant minds. We, least of all fore-grasping power reserved. But for projecting lines of present power To their conclusions in the future, reach This argument : We dare not mutilate Our restoration of neglected faith By preaching only : it must live in us Until the ancient days and ways He loved Shall draw Him near, — not simply where the soul Trims her small chamber, or prophetic lips Burn from His fiery tou^ch ; but call Him down, To make His very self endurable To human sense. A trance, mistook for death. Thaws from the blood with struggle and with pang ; And still we feebly move the torpid limbs. See through a veil, and hear but muffled sounds : So you, whose hand upon us broke the spell, Give, pulse by pulse, the life revealed to you, As we take strength to bear it ! JONAS. Not to me Was this imparted, nor to some I know. There may be times demanding cloudy speech ; But clearer now were welcomer. What pulse Shall first be felt ? The prophet called on us, I thought ; and you direct us back to him. Scene II.J THE PROPHET. 73 SIMEON. Without conferring, unprepared as you, Yet do I compreliend. The cloud may be Inside of eyes that blame the sky for it. NIMROD. Nay, Simeon ! He who speaks in images Oft sees the image taken for the thing. Hear, all ! We mean to purchase power disused, But never abrogated : on what rock. If not on this, have we been building here ? And he who welds again the broken link Between the Lord and man, who summon us To twofold lives that speak our waxing faith, — Ah ! once let morning rise, men soon forget Their hours of darkness, — he awaits that we Obey his messages in soul and flesh. HUGH. Then what is past is sealed, our work approved And fresh apportioned ? DAVID. Is not all one piece, — Past, present, future, — as a youth in whom The child expands, the man is possible ? This restless ferment in the general mind Must not infect my own : the charge ye bear I gave, indeed ; but, save by constant guard And forceful lifting of the soul, I keep The separate gift, then were ye lost with me. What I anticipate I dare not speak. Until commanded. Voices heard from far. And shadows thrown, are stammering messengers ; But when His will, in language and in form, 74 THE PROPHET. [Act III. Arrives, the time of conference is past. Speak, now, and freely : therefore I withdraw. . {Exit. HUGH. His words hold promise : he was highly moved. Yet, if the revelation must forbid All further question, why confer we now ? MORDECAI. In holy discipline. We, too, have felt The breathing of the Spirit, and our souls Point, like the smallest flame, the way it draws : So, after him if now our light be cast, We lead the others. NIMROD. Yea : what I declared Was but direction, not a single path. Who our accomplished work in truth accepts Will halt not here ; but, bending yearning eyes Upon their hves, who owned the heritage From Dan and Hermon unto Hebron's oaks, Will scan each custom, pleasant to the Lord, And choose what fails us most. Let, therefore, each Go back in spirit, serve in Jacob's stead ; Behold the sons of Aaron with strange fire Consumed, and stoned the son of Shelomith ; Tarry with Judah where the way goes up To Timnath ; find his feet, like Boaz, warm From her who stole beneath the garment's skirt ; Or, set in fruitful households, chant the psalms Of shepherd-kings, and Solomon's high song. All He allowed — nay, so encouraged, then, He turned aside, and in the heat of day Did visit His elected — must be ours, , . Scene II.] THE PROPHET. 75 Ere we, with hands and meats no more unclean, Dare dress the board for Him. What first to choose Of new adornment for the mighty Guest ■ Is now our task. JONAS. You had not said so much, Save you had chosen. Let us know your choice. MORDECAI. While we aspire, it seems you 'd fain provoke Dissension : rather to the records turn. Dead histories so long, but now brought near For pure example. SIMEON. Why, what words are his ? From our beginning we have trod one track — NIMROD {interrupting). Which leads straight forward, over cowardice, And half-belief, and forms of later law God never gave. What says the foohsh world ? That place and time and circumstance have changed : Still those were holy men. But what they did Makes us unholy. Oh ! He loved them well, Stepped down from heaven upon their herded hills. Talked face to face — so much priests bid us take, Then — there they halt ; and all emasculate law They teach, casts dirt on Israel of old. Of kings, or prophets, or apostles, none Forbids our following : every sign bestowed On our new eyes says. Conquer all by all ! SIMEON. [Aside to Hugh.) He waxes mighty. l(> THE PROPHET. [Act III NIMROD. 'T is enough to-day ! The Prophet's words give guidance to our thoughts. Let each into the closet of his soul Retire a space, and there, alone, select Not what the weakening leaven of the past, And unabolished habit of the heart. Stir up within us ; but the thing he finds Chiefest in ancient lives, and lacking here. It may be we shall wander different ways ; But all lead forward, and will surely join. Scene III. A garden in the rear of the Prophet's house. Peter digging a bed. {Pausing in his work.') I hardly ought to say it ; but you can't Turn one thing into t' other. Leastways, some Have only changed their devils, not cast out, And, with the pick and choice of gifts they had. Are none the wiser. There my old horse-sense Said, just as plain, " See whether you can use ; " And, if I 'd opened mouth, and shut my eyes, The Lord knows whether anything had dropped. I can't make out : there 's going back and forth, Like candidates before election-time. When, with a little sleight-of-hand, a man May sell two votes. Here, mine will hardly count. Our David 's always safe, and brother Kraft, And sister Livia, — each a regiment. She looked at me in such an asking way, Scene III.] THE PROPHET. 77 This morning ! what the — Zion — could she want ? JNIaybe, the temple — more pontificals : Whichever way you turn, when sundown comes, It 's temple, temple, temple ! I was glad On their account ; but, now it 's finished up, Both him and her go sidehng round the house, As if forever hunting something lost. {Sings.) Oh ! I 've a hundred acres of land, •And a house to cover your head ; And in the spring, when the dovey-doveys sing, They say it 's the time to wed. Oh ! I 've an eye that is blue and shy, And a mouth that is red, says she, And a heart at rest in my lily, lily breast ; And why should I wed with thee t Oh ! take your choice when the days are long, And be sure you never will rue. When I 'm safe from storm, and it 's bonny, bonny warm, Say, what will become of you ,? Oh ! I '11 comb and curl your bright brown hair, On a Sunday morning gay ; For a maid, I guess, when she means yes, yes, Begins with a nay, nay, nay ! NIMROD [entering). When birds sing that way, it is time to build. Good-morrow, Peter ! PETER. And good-day, high priest ! [Aside.) I have a vote, it seems. 78 THE PROPHET. [Act III. NIMROD. Your plants are trim And forward : that shows liking for the place. The prophet told me, as an orphan boy You came to him. PETER. Ay, 't was my only home. NIMROD. Your silent faith counts more than that of some Who make a loud profession. Modestly You choose no gift ; but you may highly serve The Church, by being fully what you are. PETER. Preambles don't get through my head. NIMROD. Find, then, A mate, and add a dozen to our flock. PETER. Oho ! That 's good advice. But here 's my fix : I stand half-way 'twixt Jane and Mary Ann (We '11 say), both willing. Now, to choose for good, When either took, you might find afterwards The t'other was the better, — there I stick ! I 'd let our Rhoda pick for me ; but then. She don't know both. NIMROD. {Lowering his voice.) If both were given to you, As in the days of old ? Scene III.] THE PROPHET. 79 PETER. {Dropping his spade) That 's something new : You mean it ? NIMROD. What has been may be again. PETER. Well, each is pleasant while she holds the chance, And would outbid the t'other : make it law For all of us, the double check would last, And they'd pull square, I guess. NIMROD. What thus relieves Your own dilemma offers general peace. But guard your tongue : I 've no authority To promise this, or even so much as hint. You 've read your Bible : what the Lord himself Established for the fathers of the world Is justified to us. PETER. And yet it 's queer To live like folks a million years ago. NIMROD. Ay, there you hit it ! But the Prophet's power Was lost as long. The hearts of men, you've seen, Are like their stomachs, used to this or that, Shy of the best of food, if other kind. And some half starve before they taste of it. Here you can aid : I need not tell you more : There 's ways of finding how a man inclines, Without declaring much. 8o THE PROPHET. [Acr III. PETER. I understand. NIMROD. The Prophet's soul is wrestling with his task. Guard him from useless trouble, keep him free From small disturbances ! 'T is much for you To be a faithful watchman at his gates. lExit PETER. {After a prolonged whistle. ) It 's half a pity such a man as that Is out of Congress ! When he means a thing, It 's safe to bet the thing will happen soon. So that^s the secret ; and they 're flustered both, Misdoubting, doubtless, how the folks will take ! I 'm mighty 'cute, when I lay out to be. And here 's good reason. Oh, I '11 bait my hooks, And jerk men's thoughts out, fast as hungry pike ! I '11 go ahead where David wants to walk, And cut a swath, then — Jane and Mary Ann ! Scene IV. The council-room. Nimrod Kraft and the Twelve asset7ibled. NIMROD. Nine out of twelve — thereto my voice the tenth — Give clearest title : there 's no room for doubt (Which, as we stand, means nothing else than fear) ; For each, in silent seeking, urged by none. By none persuaded, found the truth. We meet — Against all secret understanding guard — Declare in writing : speaks the Lord, or not ? Scene IV] THE PROPHET. 8-i Who else hath made so many of one mind ? And if the Prophet's light indeed be ours,, Shed on the law he means to give us next, 'T is as a chosen field should plough itself, So eager for the seed ! SIMEON. Who are the three ? HUGH. The question tells where you belong, at least. NIMROD. They know ; so shall the Prophet ; 't is enough ! The temple's dedication, now at hand. Demands relaying of a basis built Of what came nearest. Thin and crumbhng stones Must be removed, and those of solid grain Replace them ; 't was intended from the first. JONAS. I make no secret of dissent. Your words Imply a threat : so speak it honestly ! NIMROD. Dissent may live, while disobedience dies. I did not threaten : it may be myself Shall be rejected first. If you require The human logic of the call divine, To settle new misgivings, none will blame. So, afterwards, acceptance follows. MORDECAI. Lord, Enlighten them that wander in the dark ! 6 82 THE PROPHET. [Act III. SIMEON. So near accordance, let us cease to strive ! The law we pray for gives new power to man, Takes old reproach from woman, multiplies Inheritors of truth, as born therein, And heals perversions that distress the world. Oh, may it come ! , JONAS. Yes ; come to tear down homes, And leave us tents instead, pitched wide apart ! NIMROD. Even so they dwelt ; for Zion was their home ; And thereunto they gave what you deny, The riches of their loins. Make end of talk ; The Prophet waits. Go, Simeon, bid him here ! {Exit Simeon. Immediately aftertva^'ds David enters^ and takes his seat at the head of the table.) DAVID. If I foresaw the form of your desire, I left you, none the less, uninfluenced prayer, And ample freedom. Whither tend your minds ? NIMROD. One here impeaches my sincerity : Let Mordecai declare ! MORDECAI. We ten are one. Three choose another sign, or ours distrust. We would restore that patriarchal home The Lord preferred, — its fair, obedient wives, Its heritage of children ; as He gave. So giving now, that none be left alone Scene IV.] THE PROPHET. 83 Or fruitless : thus the chasms of Gentile life Wherein they fall, or pine on either side, Shall all be closed in us. DAVID. This makes a chasm Impassable between us and the world. Have you considered 1 SIMEON. They that follow you Already crossed, and hurled the bridges down, NIMROD. Such test were all too easy. In our hearts, By long transmission of the narrower love Make shrunken, is the field of sacrifice. Who offers there, in cheerful company With her who for her sisters' sake submits, And for the Lord's high pleasure, hath prevailed. Forgets that he has ever lived ere now (Thus you commanded), and is surely blessed, Save bankrupt be the treasury of Heaven. DAVID. Oh ! send us. Lord, Thy keenest tongues of fire To burn out reason, greed, and appetite. And leave, clear gold, the knowledge of Thy will ! There 's truth in your concurrence ; there is faith That loves a trial ; yea, so much as this Lies, as a tree, within our planted seed. But — in His own good time ! What I declare — Believe me, brethren ! — comes through sore travail Of mind and spirit : I am set as one Beneath deep waves, who, looking for the day, 84 THE PROPHET. [Act III. Sees watery lights, and ever-shifting gleams, Till, in a calm betwixt the billowy tides, The sun a moment pierces. Press not close : The purest counsel may confuse us here. Look ye, how many hearts are frozen yet, Which, until thawed, must be withheld from fire ! But if — Nay, this is all. I charge you, wait ! On mine own soul I take the stress of yours. To climb therewith : a finger stretched to help May shake the balance : stand aside, and wait ! Scene V. A room in the Prophet's house. DAVID. ( Walking tip and down.) I felt it come : within me and without The signs agreed. One influence said, " Postpone ! ^ But something else — what was, what is it .^ — cries, " No cowardice ! the leaven of the world Works in thy nature." Yet the inner sense, — So pure it seems, even set against His light, So simply strong, where old, insidious lust May otherwise find entrance, — yea, it makes Me coward ! Here might woman offer help. Had she but reached that statelier modesty Which takes all mysteries of love and life As God's enactments. RHODA [entering]- You have walked so long ! Your face is vexed with thought. What is it fills The very air ? I have forborne to ask. Scene V.] THE PROPHET. 85 Knowing the burden of the fate of all * Weighing upon you ; yet, if those are right Who counsel most, so soon to be relieved. DAVID. It is not that, or only in such wise As manifest direction of the past And present blessing may increase the load. For triumph makes afraid : it stings and stirs All sleeping evil to a new assault ; Yet flatters so the self-exalted soul. That what descended seems to dwell within. They hope a further message, and with right : The time is ripe ; but whether purified As who accepts a truth re-making life, Or half with us, and half, unconsciously, Swayed by an ancient conscience — ■ {He paiises.) RHODA. Dare the truth, As first you dared. I know no other law Than I have learned of you. DAVID. There spoke my wife ! Yea, if all women were so sweetly strung To trust and follow us, the task were light. RHODA. The women 1 How ? you doubt their equal faith ? DAVID. {Slowly, walking up a?td down, and closely walcAing'RB.O'DA.) Not equal faith, but equal — shall I say — 86 THE PROPHET. [Act III. Self-abnegation ? Nay, the word escapes. 'T is one to either sex, yet opposite ; For man accepts, without a harm to love. What unto woman seems its fatal hurt. Such were not those of old, the strong and proud, The stately mothers, favorites of the Lord. What wife was Rachel, when she Bilhah gave ? Who now would yield, to multiply our tribe, And take reproach from others, nuptial right ? RHODA. I fear to understand. Who asks the " right " ? What men demand the license ? Surely you Denied them ? DAVID. Wherefore use unseemly words ? Faith is not license, save in nobler sense ; And prayerful questioning is no demand. Say revelation, clear as any given, Should this confirm : what then ? RHODA. 'T will not be given, To strike the life from all true women's hearts ! Nay, hear me, David ! Do not turn your face. You are so good ! They have misled your mind, Those two, themselves misled, who cannot reach Your purer height ; but this is not of you. Were we alone, and some strange sacrifice — 'T is foolish, speaking thus ! Put me aside. But think of innocent wives, whose joy of life, So satisfied with trust in one man's truth, Sustains them in long weariness and fear, That end in pangs, and endless, narrowing cares : No, no : you will not rob them ! Scene V.] THE PROPHET. 87 DAVID. Have I robbed All these of home, to leave them shelterless ? Of ignorant faith, to send no power instead ? If care be less for each, yet love remain Enough for all, I give, not take away. To set her delicate heart in common breasts, And so interpret, is a woman's way : Were all as you are — Nay, there 's little good Conjecturing thus : I have a single path. Shall He desert me, after glorious signs Given from the first ? Why, that undoes my work ! Who was it sent me to the wilderness, Unsealed mine ears until the distant voice Drew nearer, and a vision of the night So seized and shook my helpless human soul. That breath forsook me ? Yea, almost I brake The spider's thread dividing earth and heaven ; But such was not His will. When morning came, And, lapped in faint indifference to life I lay, the barren rock before mine eyes Was as a table, spread by angel-hands ! He gave me food : I ate, and I was saved. As well refuse the food he offers now, And let faith, starving, die ! RHODA {eagerly). Who saved you then May save again ! 'T is nought to offer food ; But I obeyed a voice, this moment clear. And charged, I feel, with all the Lord's high will In woman manifest. I pray you, take, Even from my hands, which then were hid from you, Now, openly, my evidence from Him ! S8 THE PROPHET. [Act III. DAVID. What double sense is in your words ? I hear, Not comprehending. RHODA. How could I refrain ? Two days had passed : I dared not interrupt Your sohtude of soul, and prayers that fed Upon the life of your forgotten frame ; But, guided near you, oh, thank Him for that ! I left the food — DAVID. You ? you ! RHODA. As was His will. What ails you, David ? [Aside.) He is deadly pale ; There 's something fierce and strange within his eyes He frightens me. DAVID. Yoii brought me food ? RHODA. I did. DAVID. What else ? What more have you in secret done ? Who taught you so to counterfeit the Lord ? Woman ! to burrow UDderneath my feet, And make a hollowness where rock should be ! How dared you cheat me ? Scene V.] THE PROPHET. 89 RHODA. Slay me with your hand, Not with such face and words ! If I but saved (You say it saved you), how could love refrain ? I have obeyed, believed all else in you, As I believe and worship still : forgive ! {She falls on her knees before him.) DAVID. Not unto me, your husband, David, man ; But, if I be a Prophet of the Lord, — Yes, if! It seems to you a little thing : Rise up ! I cannot answer now : the house Rocks to and fro, the temple's pinnacles Dance in the air like devils' shuttlecocks : There 's nothing stable. Rise, I say again ! {She rises to her feet.) Now take your seat, and sew ! I 've heard it said Women think better when the hand 's employed : If 'tis so, think ! {He moves towards the door.) RHODA. David ! DAVID. I go to pray. [Exit. RHODA. Come back ! He 's gone. O God ! what have I done ? 90 THE PROPHET. [Act III. Scene VI. Midnight. The interior of the temple : a row of columns^ on either side of the nave, throws the side aisles into shadow, A huge baptismal font of stone, resting on four rudely- scztlptured figtcres, — a lio7t, an ox, a griffin, and a ram, — rises from the floor : behind, on a platform of stone, an altar bearing the ark, on each side of which lights are burning in seven-branched candlesticks. A veil, partly lifted on one side, conceals a semicircular chancel, which is the Holy of Holies. ) DAVID. {Slowly pacing along the izave.) And this complete, a house to give Him joy ! So near, so great, the triumph, and the dread Forerunning it ! But, while I feared a bolt From heaven, the earth, without a warning, heaved. She cannot see the harm, nor I translate : O doubt of soul, so often trampled down ! O highest faith, as oft renewed in pain ! Why comes your fiercest battle now ? She fed ; An accident upset the toppling rock ; The vision was a dream : the flock I lead Is fooled by me, as I have fooled myself ! Howe'er I turn, I stand as girt by fire ; And all in me which seemed divinely good Is changed to poison, made a scorpion-sting. To pierce my soul with death. Oh, hearken. Lord ! {He buries his face in his hands. A shadow glides swiftly from pillar to pillar, and paitses opposite to him,.) LIVIA. {Aside, in a whisper.) He 's nigh despair : I know — there 's but one source — Whence comes it. Fail me not, my woman's heart, Or he and I are lost. Scene VL] THE PROPHET. 91 DAVID. {Lifting his head.) He will not speak ! Doth He not know how terrible it is To ask, and not be answered ? Why, one soul, For sin so tortm-ed, would make justice weep ; But this is good, this seek a million souls. What, then, is He ? Hold, hold ! There lies a gulf Whose awful darkness frightens worse than flame. The thought 's a serpent, coiled round heart and throat, And crushing Hfe, save one dull spark that burns In suffering only. {He staggers to one side and leans against a column.) LIVIA {aside). This is deepest woe Of doubt, that vibrates back to faith again. Can I but loose the string. He must not see, Nor hear, as yet ; but, stay ! one chance remains. {She steals forward, ajzd vanishes in the darkness.) Thus all accomplished crumbles, slides away ! Power lost, authority 's a puff of smoke ; Respect becomes its angry opposite ; For each an insult in my failure feels. Spying a cold intention where I gave In self-forgetting faith. This dare not be : Am I set back, to seek His face again ? Through heat and haste of youth, too ardent hope Of large acceptance, was confusion born. And still I stray ? Even for the sake of men, I 92 THE PROPHET. [Act III. Should I appear as I believed I was ? One line of light, — one little entering thread, As through a worm-hole in a shutter probes A darkened chamber, — that would save my power. ( The bass-pipes of the organ begin to sound, scarcely audible at first, but gradually increasing in volume ; then, after a few simple, alternating chords, a faint, fltite-like stop is added.) Is this an answer, out of weary sense Awakened, to delude me as before ? ' Not so ! I cannot dream such harmonies : That shuddering of the air, that far-o£t sweep Of myriad voices, hiding what they sing, — I feel, I hear again ! Come near, and speak ! Fold up your fluttering wings, that shake the sound, Or soothe my passion, loosened through the eyes, Till I distinguish ! Oh ! some pity breathes In your celestial sweetness, melting me To such self-sorrow, I can bear no more. {He covers his face and weeps : the mtisic gradually ceases.) My soul is quieted, and yet so sad ! It seems to wait, not all disclothed of hope. But passive, like the silence of a child Shut up alone, whom love may soon release. But I, — will love release me ? LIVIA. {Steppijtg noiselessly forward : in a low voice.) Prophet, yea ! DAVID {starting). Ah ! What is this ? How came you here ? LIVIA. He called. Scene VI.] THE PROPHET. 93 DAVID. He called ? What said He ? LI VI A. First, " Prepare a chant, Meet for the dedication of My house." I rose, came hither ; and the organ-stops Compelled my fingers to the strain you heard. As in a dream, the solemn, breathing chords Filled all of space beneath the hollow sky, Above a valley ; trees and rocky crests I seemed to see ; and one awaiting soul Was there, and listening. DAVID. Livia ! This you saw "l LIVIA. Dimly, and far away ; but you were near. Within the temple something wild and strange, A sense of agony, a dread appeal. So pierced my soul, I wept. I felt whence came The subtile influence, — felt, and yielded all Receptive tablets of magnetic sense Which woman keeps, the substitute for power; Till what, unconsciously, you wrote thereon Brought me to you. DAVID. I wrote ? and you know all ? 'T were miracle ! and yet, within your eyes I read the knowledge. LIVIA. Also that my faith Finds surer triumph planted in your doubt ? 94 THE PROPHET. [Act III. This is the prophet-nature : such were they Whose hps became live coals of kindled truth, Dipped in the hell of an uncertain mind, To fit them for the bliss of certainty. What you esteem more keenly, dreading loss, You will attain : your very fears are hopes ; For, if the signs of power be accidents, Then accident is greater miracle ! DAVID. Ha! LIVIA. Thus, each side, your feet are firmly set. DAVID. And what I ponder, — is it known to you ? LIVIA. Ay, known and pondered, as a woman weighs Her share in law, her half of destiny ; Not coldly, but with warm, impressive mind. That shapes its living features. Would you see Their form in mine ? DAVID. I feel it, ere you speak ; And yet I would behold. LIVIA. Within my heart Truth purer is than educated shame. Unteach this last in woman, she will love Not selfishly, as now, — possessing less By claiming more, — but with a proud content In yielding home and honor to the rest. Scene VI.] THE PROPHET. 95 {^She speaks in a lower tone.) Here might I help : my heart suggests a way- It shrinks from, save extremity of need Demand all sacrifice. If I confess One timid prayer, and justify the law Through my desire, I do but shut the door On its fulfilment. DAVID. Livia ! Bid me speak, And by obedience other bliss may come. Livia ! fulfilment of your prayer, and mine ! So many hearts, as birds in mating-time, Draw near each other perched on hedge and spray ; But ours, like skylarks, met above the cloud ! When first I saw you, there was touch of wings, Far up in loftier sohtudes of air A warm companionship. You cannot sink Below our partnered light, nor I, alone, Aspire beyond it. Come, and be yourself The law, the revelation ! {He stretches out his arms: LiviA throws herself upon his breast.) LIVIA. David ! now My Prophet and my love ! ( Kissing him . ) Oh ! nevermore Shall I, thus beckoned, falter on the way ; gS THE PROPHET. [Act III. But when your weary spirit leans on mine, And draws such life as once, from hers he gave, The Roman father, 1 am all fulfilled. This is the place, the purpose, and the power For me ordained : be not less bold to take Than I to give ! DAVID. [Rettirning her kisses.) This sign shall triumph. Lo ! The Enemy but made his last assault : My power comes back : the temple stands complete ! Scene VII. Midnight. A bed-chamber in the Prophet's hotise. Rhoda seated near a small table, tipon which is a shaded lamp ; the New Testai7ient in her lap ; the child asleep in a crib near her' RHODA. {Closing the volume.) It is not there ; or else my troubled mind Fails to detect it. All the precious words, All, all, I find ; that, like a mother's kiss And healing breath upon her baby's hurt, Make the poor heart forget its bruise, — all, all ! The sweetness of the Life that loved the world, So hallowing human love ; the promises That keep a" nobler justice still alive Beneath each wrong ; the nearness of the Lord, As of a wing that covers and defends, — They shine upon me. Only this unsaid ? He imcst have said it : they forgot to write. It was so small a thing for Him, — ten words Scene VII.] THE PROPHET. 97 To help all women, — yea, enough were three ! A single breathing from His lips divine, And we were saved ; for, though He meant so much, Not thus commanding, men will dare deny ! I saw the text so clearly in my soul, — Already marked, and laid the open book On David's desk. He could not help but see, And then the power within him would be firm, I prayed, to conquer other counseL Ah ! What course remains ? My tongue deceives my heart , I speak but foolishness, and vex him more. But hers makes beautiful a darkened thought, Makes purity a secret selfishness. And holy love an evil. Oh, 't is false ! Why, what did he declare me at the first ? — That faith and love are one ! Give me a line. Clear, pointed, piercing, from the armory here, And I will use it as a sword. I reach, But they are hung too high, or over-weight My hand ; and I am helpless to contend, As if the Lord opposed me. {^The cJiild moves restlessly in his sleep.) You are safe, My baby, even from the world's reproach, — Of love begotten, ere its nature strayed. What waits for you and me ? Confusion comes When that which in the universal heart Alone is holy finds no reverence. ( The child wakens, and begins to cry. She takes him from the crib, folds him warmly in the bed-clothes, and rocks him upon her breast. ) Hush, darhng, hush ! If that thy mother's woe Hath pierced thine innocent, unconscious rest, 7 9'8 THE PROPHET. [Act III. And wakened thee in witless trouble, hush ! Thou art too young for anything but joy, Too dear for shadowed pain ; and some old song Must cheat my sorrow till thou sleep'st again. [Sings.) " My baby smiles, at last awake : The curtains let me draw, And on my happy bosom take The child he never saw. " He '11 come to-night : the wind 's at rest, The moon is full and fair ; I wear the dress that pleased him best, A ribbon in my hair. " So lately wed, so long away ! But, oh ! between is joy : He left a wife ; he '11 find to-day A mother and a boy. " Be still, my heart ! the sound I hear Is not the step I know ; But hope so perfect turns to fear, And bliss is nigh to woe. " What voices now delay his tread. Or plan a sweet surprise ? Come, babe ! and we shall wake, instead. The rapture of his eyes." The moonlight, through the open door. Upon her forehead smiled. Still feet and frozen heart they bore : He never saw his child ! {She breaks into a passion of weeping) ACT IV. Scene I. — The Temple. Grand ceremony of dedication : the main aisle is thronged zvith people, — men, women, and children. The baptismal font is filled with water, and decorated with garlands. Lights are hcrning in the seven-branched candlesticks : a flat bra- zier, containing live coals ^ stajzds upon the altar. The Holy of Holies is concealed by a dark purple veil. Upon the plat- form, in the centre, on the right hand of the altar, stands David, iii robes of white, embroidered with gold ; on the left hand, NiMROD Kraft, as high-priest, in robes of violet, em,' broidered with silver, and a tall silver mitre upon his head ; behind them ten mevibers of the COUNCIL OF Twelve, in robes of pale gi-een, bordered with crimson : they bear sy?nbols, representing the gifts and attributes of the Church. Four boys, stafiding below, in front of the altar, hold censers in their hands. DAVID. THIS having heard, — commanded to receive, By Him who speaks through me, — do you possess As somewhat unto them whose hearts are strong To plant His service in devoted lives, Permitted ; not as ordered unto all. The sword of Truth is only terrible Against defiant wills : whoso obeys In spirit, though his human reason fail, Shall yet perceive in spirit, and be glad. It is the highest faith that tramples down Rebellious intellect : while this is blind, loo THE PROPHET. [Act IV. That sees ; and even where the softer heart May tremble, in its dehcate habit jarred By harmonies of love that first disturb, 'T is Faith that soothes our bosom's frightened bird, And says, " The nestlings and the nest are safe." Remember this ; and still exalt your souls To hght that purifies, while fancied warmth May stream from darkness. That revealed, I give ; Not that expected, or of men preferred. And Thou who gavest, symbol of whose truth These living coals upon Thine altar glow. Take, from the hands of the anointed priest. Our first burnt-offering ! As it melts in flame, And radiance out of darkened dross is born. So melt from us, in this Thy holy house. All understanding, feeling, thought, and love Not meet for Thee, till every soul, refined. Burn in an upward glory ! NIMROD. If strange fire, Hated of Thee, the food of heathen gods. Come forth from what we offer, quench the flame, Or turn it back, consuming these my hands ! { With both hands he casts sojnething upon the coals. A clear, rose-colored flame arises, steadily increasing in brilliancy, until all the interior of the temple is tinted by its radiance. The boys swing the censers ; and the clouds of perfumed smoke are illtintiizated as they rise.) CHANT. ( With full organ accompaniment.') Hosanna ! harp and song Proclaim the consummation : Homeless on earth so long, Thou hast an habitation 1 Scene I.] THE PROPHET. loi As was of old Thy bid, Thine holy place is hid : Descend, and dwell amid Thy chosen nation ! Hark to the voice of Thy welcome, Jehovah ! Make this Thy city proud, And this Thy sacred river ! Guard us with fire and cloud, And arrows from Thy quiver ! Increase us where we stand, That we possess the land ; And from our enemy's hand With might deliver ! Dwell in the house we have builded, Jehovah ! JONAS. [^Among the congregation, to Hugh.) The most are caught. I marvel at myself, Like one, who, entering on a company Filled with deceitful wine, tongues thawed and hearts, Feels an unfriendly soberness of blood. Until their folly rights him. This alone Were harmless luxury for stinted souls, Save for its rootage in their homely lives. The evil waxes strong. HUGH. And weak, thereby, Our chances. Note the women's faces, here ! At first I thought them troubled : now the bait, Self-sacrifice, upon the hook of faith. But gently frightens : they already feel Consent approach, and shyly play with it, To gulp more perfectly at last. 102 THE PROPHET. [Act IV. JONAS. Be still ! The priest, through all his haze of sanctity, Fails not to watch us : meet me three days hence. NIMROD. {Addressing the people.) Even as He charged, sojourning in the coasts Of Gadara : tell no man this ye saw ! Who come to us must their behef attest, Ere they be worthy of the signs. Dull ears Misread the revelations : clouded eyes Behold them darkly. Wherefore, you that know, Be as enclosed gardens to the world. The highway is no Tabor, meet for saints ; The market-place is no Gethsemane. Keep the exceeding nearness of the Lord, This day, and when again in voice and flame He visits us, like secret holiness We share as brethren, but none else than we. I gave you once the Prophet's parable, Here verified : the tender roots of faith, That feed such glorious summer-leaves of life, Lie deep below, and wither when laid bare. A happy bond, indeed, is speech of that Which moves the heart ; but holier, sweeter far, MORDECAI. {To Simeon.) Wise words, and most devout ! But wherefore now Adds he this law, when, publishing the first, We sfather thousands ? I I Scene II.] THE PROPHET. 103 SIMEON. Not to any one May I declare, even that I know his mind. I say not that I know it ; be assured, No less, that also wisdom orders here. DAVID. {To the people.) Once more my mouth is opened ere ye go. In every house the fatness of our land Prepares your feast ; the shawms and sackbuts wait, With lighter measures, for rejoicing feet ; The day is made a glory, far and wide, On shore and river. Issuing forth to these, Let not your perfect exaltation sink Even to the gladsome level of the time. Behold in all, as out of nothing wrought, What here the soul commanded, and the hand, A willing slave, fulfilled ! As it hath been, So, with increasing forces, let it be; And, from the loins of us that humbly serve. Shall start the lineage of millennial kings ! [Sound of the organ. The Prophet, High-Priest, and members of the Twelve come forward to the front of the platfor77i., and lift their hands, while the people gradtcally disperse.) Scene II. A room in the house of Jonas. Night. A small lamp burn- ing npojt the table ; the shictters closed. Jonas, his wife Sarah, Hugh, and Hiram, a mej7iber of the Church. SARAH. Walls hear, 't is said ; but they 've no tongues to blab. Up street and down, so far as I can see, I04 THE PROPHET. [Act IV. 'T is lonely as a graveyard : use your chance, And well, and quickly ! JONAS. Many more are ripe For what we may determine : all they need Is certainty of equal power opposed ; And this, within the compass of our flock, They see not, neither is it found : so strong. So as with Devil's wisdom skilled to work, Is Nimrod Kraft. But one thing hath he taught Whereby we profit, — to keep counsel close. Direction in a single pair of hands, And move, when ready, backed by secret force. Why, such a man profanes conspiracy, So using it ! His weapons, in our hands, Scoured by the better purpose, are made sure. HUGH. The hands are yours that shape the counter-plan ; And mine are idle till you bid them do. Whence comes the equal power ? SARAH. If men are weak, Then women easily may foil the law. It were the rarest show, good faith ! to see The battle left to us ; our recompense, To own their weakness whole, which, but for us, Would be divided. JONAS. Nay, you haste too much. Already half the leaven of discontent Is kneaded up in their submissive clay ; Scene II.] THE PROPHET. loi And that which drew us, and we still accept, Grows one with what we loathe. Thus open war Were vainly ventured : leaving them, we lose Possession and its chances. What remains ? The help abiding in the outer law, — A hand still stretched, to smite where it forbids, As this, yet spare whatever else we hold. HUGH. Then, as I guess, you guide the Gentile law To his confusion only ? Can you stay Its meddling there, nor open other pleas. Which, in the end, may set us where we stood At the beginning ? JONAS. There my secret lies. The world is pressing on us : right and left New colonies have passed the prairie lands. To settle on the river-bluffs, and build Some cabin-city they believe shall be A centre of the world. The chief of one, And potent in their county government, Is kin of mine ; and messages have passed.' That half the plot, and most of danger, falls To them who work outside, not seeming leagued, Demands advantage. What were ours to give. After success, and what were fair to give, — So that the leadership secures to us, — Needs final parley : time and place are fixed. HIRAM. As here and now declared : this day I bore Your message and its answer. Colonel Hyde Sees lighter work in leading on his men Than holding back : the excitement grows apace. lo6 THE PROPHET. [Act IV. Give evidence to make pretence of law A legal movement, should the law inquire : He asks no more. HUGH. The revelation, say ? JONAS. Just that ! With all the priest's freemasonry To keep the usage secret, here and there Are leaky souls : the raftsmen, as they pass The landing ; firemen, wooding up their boats ; Or peddling agents, prowling through the land, — Catch hints of it, and bear disfigured forth. Thus interference threatens either way; But we avert a ruin possible, And seat ourselves in power, to change and save, By pointing the attack. HUGH. And yet I 've heard How one, that, in the guns against him fired. Had rammed blank cartridges, forgot a ball. Your plan is perfect, if the guidance holds — SARAH. ( Interrupting h im . ) What man are you, to fear the lesser risk ? The thing is coming. Standing now to us, You lose no more, though interference fail. And gain by any change. JONAS. The fact of kin In him whose hand must grapple with the priest Is my security. Full match is he, Scene III.] THE PROPHET. 107 As you shall know. We meet, to settle all, Beyond the river-bend, just where the bluff Turns inland, and the little brook comes down. 'T is thickly wooded : there the Indians made Their final stand ; and rows of bleaching ribs Shine, like the fangs of steel-traps, from the grass. Even border hunters, bold to hug a bear, Avoid it after nightfall : we are safe From even suspicion's ear, conferring there. Will you go with me ? HUGH. Coward am I not, Though cautious, as befits a man full-grown. But woman's virtue caution never was : Only the rash are brave to her. I '11 go ! Scene III. Night. A street in the city. HUGH. {Walking slowly homewards.) Were he alone, he might conspire alone, And welcome ! This is shrewdly done, if his ; The more, if hers. I thought her not so wise. If interference menaces indeed, And one might make conditions, then, why, then Comes chance to seize o'erthrown authority, — • No matter whose, — and let it stick to me. So much there is of wisdom in the plan : We lose by quiet, and we can but gain By new disturbance. Had he promised aught — But 't is the same ! What as an offer fails, Can I exact : which side goes up or down, Io8 THE PROPHET. [Act IV One moment both are balanced evenly, And then a hand decides. The man 's a fool Who thinks to cheapen revolution's cost, And feed enthusiasm upon itself, Without the hope of benefit : go to ! I may be made a cat's-paw, but sharp-eyed To grab one chestnut, — let me see it first ! NIMROD. [Suddenly appearing at his side?) I '11 show you ! What ! you meditate escape ? Stand still ! I will not touch you, since you must. How left you Jonas ? HUGH. In his usual mood ; Dissenting, yet not disobedient. NIMROD. And yours the same ? Should I repeat his words, While every tone is in your ears alive, You would deny them : so I waste no breath. I would have suffered you to take the leap To that fair quicksand-scum you think is turf. And said, " Good riddance ! " — save that you can serve ; And that you will^ is truth, when I declare You shall not serve unpaid. HUGH. A Devil's brain Is yours ! NIMROD. A brain that once he owned, perhaps ; Now by the Lord, to his discomfiture, Tuned otherwise. Scene III.] THE PROPHET. 109 HUGH [aside). . Why, even here, to me. With both hands full of treachery and bribes, He says such things ! That 's genius, on my soul ! [Alotid.) The Lord directs you ? well, then also me, If I should do your will. NIMROD. My instrument Is surely His, in spite of halting faith. HUGH. What would you have me do ? NIMROD. Stay what you are, A traitor ! plot and plan our overthrow, ft With him and others ; only, as a spout Collects, from every shingle on the roof, What rain it sheds, to fill the thirsty tank. Convey to me your knowledge, me alone ! HUGH. The Lord commands at will what He forbids, It seems, or you interpret loosely : be it so ! I '11 grant His purpose better know^n to you, And let you patch the breakage in His law ; But, if the open virtue earns reward, This claims a higher payment ! NIMROD. In your work Will soon be shown the form of your desire. no THE PROPHET. [Act IV. Which, being seen, I '11 make reality. Though partly known to me, I dare not speak The Prophet's mind, but bid you ponder this : If you were set aside, not faithless charged, ; Nor any virtue lacking, but for use, \ As one unjustly to conspiracy i Compelled, by justice to be beckoned back, , And crowned by honor when the plot is crushed, j How then ? | HUGH {aside). This is a touch beyond me. Driven, \ While will and purpose wholly seemed my own, To do the thing he wanted, — can it be ? {Aloud.) " How then ? " 'T is just another miracle. There have been men whose tongues or hands obeyed Some dark, mysterious force, and did the things Their souls resisted : am I one of such ? NIMROD. It well may be : the working of the power, Itself, is mystery. Weary not your mind, As if to your account were aught set down, Even seeming treachery. So much we know, Source, pretext, object, chance, and means of aid, That, had your virtue yielded, we were safe ; But time is gained since you endure the test, And labor lessened. Here your service lies. First, come with me, and state the very truth, Mindful that, if you swerve, my knowledge waits To prop your memory. This rehearsal made, And duty fixed in what concerns us next. We '11 talk of your exaltment and reward. \Exeunt. Scene IV.] THE FROPHET. Scene IV. Livia's house. David seated in a cushioned arm-chair: LiviA on a low stool beside him. DAVID. The restlessness that stirs in feet and limbs, The dull confusions that besiege the brain, The strange uncertainties of heart, pass off When you are near me : overhead in blue The sun comes out ; and life is like a land Where tempered winds kiss buds, and make them flowers. What is your magic ? Na}^, it is yourself ! It is that I, who follow and believe. So spared the high anxieties of soul In you that cleave your passage to the truth, Am ever fresh, a little way beneath, To stay your weariness from further fall. The light your being brings transfuses mine With strength and gladness ever to uphold Myself, upholding you. DAVID. The gift of tongues If I bestowed, yet scarce the gift of song. Whence come your hymns, as eloquent of faith As Miriam sang, between the sea and Shur, — Rejoicing strains, that suit our cheerful laws, And shame the Gentiles' wailing psalmody ? LIVIA. 'T is consecration of a skill profane 112 THE PROPHET. [Act IV. Wherein my soul found foolish peace. I sang, In that dark time before I saw your eyes, Of knightly harps, and willow-wearing maids, Of jewelled crowns, red swords, and evening stars, And lonely tombs, and ghosts that wept and went, One burden beat through all. Such songs betrayed The lack of that which sweeter is than song. Now found ; but raptures of believing bliss Seek the same passage, and the single voice. Chanting in them, becomes the speech of all ! Stay, would you hear a ditty which yourself, As one whose arm may brush accordant strings, Nor mark in passing, did awake in me ? A secret, else, and dumb for other ears. DAVID. Oh, sing ! Though David's craft you exercise In being silent, yet my soul demands. LIVIA. ( Takes a guitar from a table, times the strings, and after a soft, subdicing prelude, sings.) Let words be faint, and song refuse To frame the speech divine : Look on me, love, and all they lose Your eyes shall sing to mine ! I ask no voice to breathe my bliss, Or bid its answer come ; For lips are silent when they kiss, And meeting hearts are dumb. A wave that slides to clasp a wave. On mine your being flows ; The pang you took, the peace you gave, Must wed in such repose. So, love, your eyes alone shall tell What else were unconfessed : Scene IV.] THE PROPHET. 113 And, if too fondly mine compel, Oh, hide them on your breast ! DAVID. Livia ! What are you ? What triumphant force Flows out from you, and knits my blood with yours ? How is it that the liquid dark of eyes I gaze on grows a broadening sphere of light, Enclosing me forever 1 — touching so Your hand, that suddenly a warmer world Beckons and wooes as if it might be mine ? — That in your cheek the blossom-tender flesh, As it were spirit, sanctifies my lips ? Oh ! you are beautiful. LIVIA. Because I love ! All happiness prints beauty on the face. I cannot keep it like a bridal-dress, Laid in a drawer, with fragrant orris-root, And wear my working-gowns again. I 'm bold, And proud of boldness, glad because of pride. And love the more for gladness ! Thus my heart Beats in a ring, beginning as it ends, — A magic circle, and you dwell therein ! DAVID. My love ! LIVIA. You say it, and I echo back. What more is freedom to a beaten slave. Than this to me ? Oh ! I could sit, as now, And study all the beauty of your eyes. Where nameless color brightens here to blue, And there turns brown, until the dusk should leave 8 .114 THE PROPHET. [Act IV. Their sparkle only. I could part your locks, And from my fingers shake their wandering gloss, * To seize again, and soothe with creeping thrills, Till you should dip in slumber ere you knew. 1 am as one that scarcely can believe Past poverty is o'er, but ever spends, To teach himself his hands are verily gold. If you have feared, lest shame and danger wait To blight the second marriage of your heart. Leave me to meet them, and to tread them down ! DAVID. I fear no more ; I wait no longer : come Scene V. The council-room. David, Nimrod, Simeon, and MoR- DECAI m secret coitference. DAVID. The danger's real : shut within our camp, Would perfidy, in time, consume itself ; But thus, in league with outer ignorance That easily breeds hate, it threatens harm. Have you assured yourself how much of truth In this aUiance Hes ? — with how much power It arms itself ? NIMROD. Last night my messengers Came back from close espial of the land. With tongues disguised to speak the Gentile mind. They won so much as Colonel Hyde sees fit To let his followers know ; and strangely shows Scene V.] THE PROPHET. 115 Our Church's image in their looking-glass ! Hereof they speak : a faction needing help Among us ; hints of strange, unholy rites To be suppressed ; and promised evidence (For he, considerate of future place, First means to lift the banner of the law) ; Then, last of all, his godless crew expects Plunder and ravage ! They would snatch away, With unclean hands, the Lord's high heritage, — They careful of the faith ! The Devil laughs, Methinks, to see such Christian volunteers Assail our industry with hands of theft, Our laws with sinful bodies, and our prayers With tongues that cast defilement when they speak. MORDECAI. Oh, sons of Belial ! But the Lord shall raise His hand to smite, as at the gates of Ai". NIMROD. What have we done that should alarm their law ? Lo ! strife and murder in this border land It scarcely chides, is patient of free lust, Yet makes a culprit of the sanctioned love That broadens home. It waits for evidence. I would not counsel rashness : let it wait, And not receive ! DAVID. Then is their pretext vain ; For we, appealing to the selfsame source, Possess law's shield, to hold against its sword Wherewith they threaten. That were best of all ; But how prevent the tales, if true or false, Which may be carried ? Ii6 THE PROPHET. [Act IV. NIMROD. {After a pause.) He who governs us j| Once smote directly : will He do so now ? The liar once fell dead ; the enemy Was slaughtered, and no child of all his seed Renewed the race : even mercy was reproach, And Moses felt the anger of the Lord, When human plea persuaded him to spare. How much the more than what was punished thus Doth Jonas purpose ! Why delays the bolt .^ Why rusts the blade in God's closed armory ? Or, waits He for our call ? means He to test What zeal and courage guard His holy place ? Then, cry aloud ! As it was said of old, They were not, for the Lord had taken them, So in your soul command. Let him not be \ SIMEON. Ay ! that were shortest passage to the end : Let him not be ! MORDECAI. Who from the Anakim His hosts delivered, over Arnon led, And gave the men of Heshbon to their hands, Will, from exceeding sraallness of this prayer, Be merry in his mind ! No giants here Oppose our path, but one malicious dwarf, Whose pointed tongue may verily stab to hurt : Let him not be ! DAVID. If some mysterious ail. Even while we speak, should palsy all his frame, Scene v.] THE PROPHET. 117 Yea, stop with sudden check the wheels of life, The thing were good ; but thus to stretch a hand, And beckon, consciously, the fate on watch — Why should it seem so different ? What sense Makes us so thoughtless when we plant a life, Knowing the awful sanctity it holds, When we would take away ? Yet, if life serve, Fulfilling as it may His will in man, Then why not death ? {He pauses, looks upwards with an expression of profound abstraction, a7id continues, as if speaking to himself.) I see the poor beast's eyes, And that tremendous question hid in them, I tried to answer. Like a human life I loved the dog's ; but when the other came. With certain madness in his slavering jaws, And sprang upon and bit and tumbled him. Then staggered forward, seeking where to die, My hands were armed with pitying cruelty. And he, so doomed, forefeeling all his doom. Crouched down, and, whimpering, read some fatal change Set in my face : the liquid, lustrous eyes. So sad with yearning after human speech, With love that never can declare itself So tender, now so wild with dumb despair, Implored in vain : it was a tragedy, O God ! and I the unrelenting fate. 'T was kindness, in the shape of monstrous guilt Disguised ; and, for his sake and mine, I prayed That, through continuous being, he might know And pardon. Even so doth God prevent ? Is moral madness, some implanted seed ii8 THE PROPHET. [Act IV. Of harm to all, thus hindered in our lives, Though by the uncomprehended blow should bleed A thousand loving hearts ? I thought so then. It seems not much, when such an aim demands : " Let him not be ! " The words themselves seduce With seeming innocence, — and each a stab : " Let him not be ! " {Ninirod makes a sign to Simeon and Mordecai, who steal quietly otit of the council-room.) I shrink from asking that Which in my secret soul I hope may come : Why should I shrink ? The days wherein we live Allow no Moses-nature ; but for him The Lord descended, counselled face to face, And hallowed slaughter with direct command. Am I so far from ancient holiness, I dare not pray His hand should touch the man Who plots my ruin ? How bring, otherwise, Conditions which make sure the covenant ? Here lies a must : it calls me to subdue My frightened fancy, and forget the heart Which tries to make itself accomplice : yes, I will implore His vengeance, — but no more. NIMROD. And should He answer, as my faith expects, The prayer is justified unto your soul. Your dread is but the birth-pang of the law Reborn in you ; and when in hving flesh It smiles, and waxes strong, you will forget All save the glory. DAVID. Be your words fulfilled ! The thing you counselled is already done. Scene VI.] THE PROPHET. 119 What in the soul one fleeting moment stands Is asked beyond recall : let us go hence ! \Exeunt. Scene VI. A narrow, wooded ravine between bhiffs crowned with rock. Late twilight. Jonas and Hugh tmder a tree. HUGH. {Aside, looking around hi?n.) A pokerish place ! There 's something in the air Breeds thoughts of murder ; and I 'm cold with creeps That pinched my flesh, from stepping on a spine, Wherefrom the skull, so loosened, rolled away. Were but the business done ! (Alozid.) He 's in no haste, Or we too hasty : he outstays the time. Once more reflect upon the thing you do : Is it well done 1 JONAS. I settled that at first. There 's safety in surprise : if Nimrod guessed The range of popular impatience, then, I grant you, were some hazard to be met. But he is idle, seeks additional wives. And feels as certain of the power he holds As doth a man of money in his fist. While at his back the robber's club is raised To stretch him dumb. HUGH. A strong comparison ! I20 THE PROPHET. [Act IV. JONAS. It suits his case. You think I underrate The man's intelhgence ; why, not a whit ! Our lucky chance is his security, Which we must use before a breath disturb. {A low whistle is heard.) The Colonel's signal ! {He whistles in answer.) Mark you, when he comes, How perfectly he understands his work, And sets all parts together till they fit ! That 's where the lawyer tells. COLONEL HYDE [approaching). Good even to both ! Your friend this, Cousin Jonas ? Here 's my hand ; And now, to business ! Something must be done, If done at all, before the week is out, — That is, as you and I, and this your friend, Desire to happen : something else is sure. The excitement grows ; and soon your priest, fore- warned. Will organize resistance ; then comes war To waste the property we want to save. Have you the evidence ? A document Were best ; but witnesses will answer here. JONAS. The written revelation which he read Was laid within the ark : that you must seize, And bear away ; resistance then will stop. Our witness must be forced, unwillingly, After arrest : I bring you here the names Of them who can be driven to testify. You understand ? Scene VI.] THE PROPHET. 12 1 COLONEL HYDE. If they the practice prove ! The revelation shows intent, no more, And violates 'no law. JONAS. To all of these The fact is patent : where you need one case, We give you five. COLONEL HYDE. As fingers of a hand That soon shall clutch them ! 'T is enough for law, Which started, many accidents may chance Before the process finds a legal stop. And now, conditions ! You demand the power ; I, its equivalent, a part secured, A part reserved for possible future need. So you gain influence — JONAS. And you assure The chance of power ! Neither can promise all. HUGH {aside). Where two so bargain, there 's not margin left To hold a third. COLONEL HYDE. The time for huckstering 's gone. JONAS. Missing my aim, comes little ; winning, all ! 122 THE PROPHET. [Act IV. COLONEL HYDE. Then here 's an end of parley : let us go ! This is no place for pleasure. JONAS. So, farewell ! Your stipulations hang on my success. \Exit Colonel Hyde. Come, Hugh ! the night is cloudy : I must seek, More with my feet than eyes, the ticklish path. \He moves away. HUGH. Go on, but slowly. I have dropped my knife, And look for 't with my hands. Before you reach The slippery corner where we climb the bluff, I '11 overtake you. [Jonas disappears in the gloom. Shall I overtake Indeed ? I 'm not so sure : yes, Colonel Hyde, An accident, if prayed for, might occur ! They told me nothing ; but the gift of guess Remains to me ; and, ugh ! 't is horrible. I '11 neither see nor know ! The skull I kicked, Used as a pillow, would not breed such dreams. [He moves onward, cautiously.) Ha ! what was that ? Along the darkened path Something, still darker, moves ! I hear no sound, And yet the silence seems a piercing cry ! I feel the lifting of my hair : I '11 stop Both ears, shut eyes, and think of anything, Till I can count ten thousand, then, go on ! Scene VIL] THE PROPHET. 123 Scene VII. A room m the Prophet's house. DAVID. No, you are not the same ! The simple trust Which found content in what I was — and this Includes whatever more I am become — Hath left your eyes : your tongue is silenter : You speak but matters which compel your speech, And in your ways make hints of things unsaid. I say not this in blame : you cannot be More than you are, or other : I had hoped There were a force in faith, a warmth in love, To hold your nature side by side with mine. And take a larger property in me Through that which only seems to lessen it. My hope is vain. RHODA. Oh ! wait a little while, My husband, — as you still and ever are. I vexed you sore in what I thought was good, And that seems evil which you ask of me : It was not so at first. I lean on you With all my weight ; when you would rest, in turn, I 've nothing but my simple, loving heart, To stay your weariness. I cannot urge Your spirit forward on its loftier ways ; Nor did you ask it, save my faith be aid. When first we loved. Take what another brings, You will not find me selfish : take so much. But keep your heart for me ! 124 THE PROPHET. [Act IV. DAVID. Why, it is yours, No less than then ! A very ghost of change Is what you fancy. Shut your eyes, and call My face into your memory : 't is the same. RHODA. Ah, David, David ! I would shut their sight Forever, could you in my ears again So live. There 's something in a woman's heart, I think, so delicate, so soft a force, That it will chng like steel, nor feel a bruise ; Yet, loose one fibre, it may bleed to death. DAVID. I have not loosed, nor will ! Nay, I have grieved. Bent down to human sympathy with you, And hoarded tenderness you have not claimed. To soothe you till you see. What can I more ? Take back the revelation and the law ? Reverse the advancing work, and, step by step, Make all things as they were ? I see your eyes Lighten at this, as they had nigh forgot To shine : I do believe you wish so much ! RHODA [slowly). No, no ! Not if your happiness depends, — Not less of power, — not all the work undone — Oh, understand me, David ! DAVID. Patience, first ! Suspend your feeling till around us springs The newer life, then judge if it be false. But if, indeed, arises primitive peace, Scene VII.] THE PROPHET. 125 And all that in the patriarchal years Made manhood pure, and womanhood content, Then I, by others, not of mine own faith, Am justified to you. SARAH [entering). Where have you put Jonas, my husband ? Give him back to me, Or I will raise a tumult in the land ! DAVID. Your husband ? SARAH. Ay, and I 'm his only wife. You have him hidden : set him free, I say ! DAVID. Wild words are these. I know no more of him Than those report who hear his discontent. He hath not sought me ; nor should I receive, Unless he came with penitence. SARAH. You know, — I '11 not believe you ! Since he held to me, Nor with strange women would pollute my house, You mean his ruin ! Help me, Prophet's wife ! Although, perverted by his tongue, you take Your rival home — (Rhoda starts, and turns away her face.) — yet you are woman still, And my distress may somewhat touch your heart. Find out what they have done with him, give back, And we will go ! [She weeps.) 126 THE PROPHET. [Act IV. DAVID {aside). It is no acted fear : Has he been taken ? Is the answer come To what I prayed, — come swiftly back to me With all its helpless woe of consequence, To make the wish a terror ? RHODA. In my heart I feel your grief, and pity, and will help, Can you but show the way. DAVID. But I declare Mine ignorance ! I speak no further word, Since you believe not. SARAH. Nay, I will believe ! His fear was less of you than Nimrod Kraft, Whose tongue — but that might anger if I spake : I know not what to do ! DAVID. Why, go to him Whom most you fear ! But, stay ! no evidence Of evil in your frightened clamor lies. Come with me, and confess the things you know. \Exit with her. RHODA {solus)- Already ? My prophetic heart declared. Then called itself a liar ! Not dare tell ? Such cowardice conceals a httle love ! The winter sun, that for a distant land Makes summer, cannot turn all warmth away, Scene VII.] THE PROPHET. 127 And slowly comes again : let me not be A frozen field, but gather every beam He may allow me ! Oh ! I 'II prove my right By life or death ; but now, on this alone, I dare not brood. That woman, wild with fear. And charged with reason for it, which alarms Because unspoken — something lurks behind, A further outrage to be sanctified, A guilt thrust under David's innocence ! The thought confuses me : I only feel The danger closing round us like a mist, Cold, formless, chilling to the very bone ; And he is helpless, save I love him still. ACT V. Scene I. The street in front of the Prophet's house. Peter at the gate, talking with two citizens. I FIRST MAN. T 'S floating loose, as one might say : it comes From everywhere and nowhere. SECOND MAN. That 's the way To make things happen. Say they '11 surely be, And all the causes of them set to work. FIRST MAN. I 'd check ; you 'd let alone : which starts a cause, Or hinders it ? There 's talk because there 's fear. What says the Prophet ? PETER. Nothing ! If I asked, And ht should answer, something would be said ; But that we neither do. SECOND MAN. Until he calls, Confessing danger, in your pockets sheathe Your restless hands, and whistle back your faith ! Their name is not yet Legion. {Exit. Scene I.] THE PROPHET. 129 FIRST MAN. No, nor yours A watchman of the Lord ! There are no signs Of Jonas yet ; but people think him fled, And plotting mischief in the enemy's camp. The Twelve hold council : knowing these reports, Which make alarm, they have not silenced them ; And thus suspicion grows. PETER. I see it does. FIRST MAN. You keep close-mouthed : I do beheve you 're primed. With far more knowledge than you let leak out. PETER. I 'm honest only : ignorance need not talk. FIRST MAN. As I do, you would say ? \Exit PETER. He 's in a huff, But can't help counting me the wiser man. Why, shut your mouth, and shrewdly move your head, And stare right hard at him who speaks to you ; And, when he says, " It is so ! " answer, " H'm, Is it, indeed ? " — and there 's your capital For thriving business in the wholesale trade Of leading people. If I 'd half a gift To save from awkward usage of their minds, I 'd make them think me great. 9 I30 * THE PROPHET. [Act V. RHODA. {Coming frojfi the hozise.) What have you heard ? This is no time for keeping back the truth. There 's danger somewhere. PETER. One was sure of that, The t'other not ; but all I know is this, — Some say the Gentiles mean to interfere. Upset the Prophet's law, and him, the head, Make chargeable for what the others do. But that they can't : we 're drifting on one raft ; And none but fools would ever try to take The helmsman prisoner, till they smashed the crew. RHODA. And all are faithful ? PETER. Well — they think they are. RHODA. This was my fear : you mean that all are not ? PETER. It comes of management : the priest, and her — Each is alone a match for any law ; And, if they work together — RHODA. Nay, they must ! You are worse troubled than you care to show ; But I '11 not question more. One way to help — Scene I.] THE PROPHET. 131 \Exit. The hardest way that ever woman walked — Is set before me, and I take it now ! PETER. I don't know as I 'm gladder that she went, Or sorrier that she seemed to think my wits Of small account. Here 's one that, as I guess, She means to pump as deeply as he '11 let. He comes this way ; he 's got a blunted axe, And I must turn the grindstone. NIMROD {entering). Have you seen Sarah, the wife of Jonas, pass this way ? PETER. Not I. NIMROD. She still may come. Wait not for me, Or any officer, but hold her fast ! PETER. There must be two of me, to do so much. NIMROD. Large-boned, and strong of arm, she is, in fact. You '11 find a watchman yonder by the wood ; But scatter, lest she take another path ! PETER. Why, what 's the row ? NIMROD. No more than you have heard. Put what you know, and what you think might be, 132 THE PROPHET. [Act V. Together, and you '11 find disturbance comes Through her alone, and she can silence it. The Prophet and the Twelve have that to ask, Which, having answered, she disarms herself. \E^it. PETER. No use of pumping there ! The water comes Just even with the spout, and then it stops. Scene II. A room hi Livia's house. LI VI A. [Slowly pacing the floor, with a letter in her hand.) Renounced, and half forgotten, still the world Has power to hurt ! I know the mirror false Which makes a grim distortion of my face. And yet it pains me while I look. What creed Is theirs, to whom my love gives more offence, Man's habit broken, than hath done my faith, To them a fatal heresy of soul ! Those Pagans, to their monstrous idol bowed, — Once Moloch named, but now Society, — Defile, when turned to their forgotten Lord, His altars with false fire. Ah ! had I found One pure male soul among them, not ashamed To seek, believe, aspire, and overcome, — With love's white heat to clarify my own, And dear dependence on my differing force, — I had remained ! But thus, forbade to seek, Insulted by insipid tenderness, That into weakness fain would coddle power. That shuts men's brains lest ours should be confused, Scene II.] THE PROPHET. I33 And hides strong aberrations of the sex, Which, knowing, we might guide to purity, — Why, what was left me but a fierce escape ? Thank Heaven, the Hne is passed ! I 've not to do With threatened shame, or vain self-questioning, more ; I give my being for a large return. {Enter Rhoda : both stand for a moment, looking at each other, in silence.) Forgive me, Rhoda, if I show surprise ; Forgive me, also, that my doubt deterred The due approach, which now your coming here So gently chides ! RHODA. Do not mistake my heart, Or set it lower, for the thing I do. Save you perceive me as I verily am, I cannot speak my message, or may mar. I come, by sore necessity constrained, Or I had never come. LIVIA [aside). Her words awake A new surprise : is this the fond, weak wife I thought her, petulant instead of proud, And simply sulking over fancied loss ? [Aloud.) Your speech is bitterer, surely, than you mean ; But, seeming in the wrong, I must endure. RHODA. Be not offended ! I must needs suppose Some curious resemblance in our hearts. Else — yet it 7nust be said ! — you had not loved. 134 THE PROPHET. [Act V. Let there be more, in this, — that, loving him, You know no better service of your life Than guarding his. LIVIA. There read me by yourself ! I '11 not explain my passion, since the words Might sting with needless pangs. I thought you weak, And find you strong : thus, silence is enough. You come because of him ; forget the rest, For partnership or rivalry in us Has here one aim. RHODA. I feel before I see. And that which shakes me with continual dread Dissolves when I would closelier scan its form. The missing man, his wife's most real alarm, The Gentile rumors, threatening David's place, If not his freedom, and the ruin of all, — These have a link which must be found and cleft. Help me, therein : I am not quick of thought, But I will follow, letting you direct. You cannot, surely, unobservant be Of each least danger, when you watch for him ! LIVIA. Less I may see, because I fear it less Than you do. He must triumph as a chief, Ere love can peacefully possess his life. Unhelping there, love in its duty fails, And all too anxiously may guard itself ; For opportunity wears danger's face When first it comes ; and now it may be so. What you declare, I knew : I muse thereon, Scene II.] THE PROPHET. 135 To save, if the occasion shrinks to that ; But, if it broaden, to exalt as well ! RHODA. And you delay ? to gain I know not what ! How can you thus so coldly, proudly talk Of triumph won by risk ? Ah ! yes, I see My heart's distress is folly unto yours : I am a woman, and you know me not. I show you all I dread ; I give you chance To set yourself above me in desert. And on the remnant of my bliss to feed, And you — seek " opportunity " ! [She turns to leave.) LI VI A. Not yet, — You do mistake ! and I should only wound By picking words more nicely : all are edged Which we two use. Twice have you made reproach, Perhaps not meaning ; I will let it pass. And answer, since I pity your alarm. With offered help : you may accept or leave. How much of faith in Nimrod, the high-priest, Do you preserve ? RHODA. {After a pause.) If one's right hand could be Unfaithful to the will ? for so it seems. But service, then, would measure treachery ; And that 's too monstrous ! {Aside.) Ah ! what have I said ? Her words provoked the doubt I should conceal, And this may do a mischief. 136 THE PROPHET. [Act V. LIVIA. 'T is enough. I know the thought, that, frightened, hides its face Even from itself ; but I will look on mine. T is well you came to me : some sheltered plants First note the distant changes of the air, And here — the thing is possible,: I thought It might be later — Ha ! if it be now, I must to work ! RHODA. Give me alittle part When you have found it ! so much is my right. LIVIA. Ay, ay ! I promise : now, I pray you, go ! For his sake, then ! {_Exit Rhoda. Oh ! she may have her share ; But I, that dare and save and win and crown, Shall sit by him as Zion's rightful queen ! Scene III. The council-room. Nimrod, Simeon, and Mordecai present. SIMEON. I find them more disturbed than timorous ; Still in good heart, the most : but that we keep Continued silence, while the threats increase, Bewilders them. Scene III.] THE PROPHET. 137 NIMROD. 'T is time, indeed, to act ; For our intent must be conveyed to all, Or we shall fail in secret unity. The Prophet halts : I 've purposely left free His spirit, praying for a path revealed Where we, between the waves on either hand, Dr3''-shod may walk : the revelation lags. If unto me, less gifted, were transferred The leader's office, I should exercise With human wit, perchance, but also will To wring success from stubborn circumstance. SIMEON. Oh ! were it so transferred ! Can you not claim, If we sustain you .^ NIMROD. No, I will not claim ! What my devotion and obedience earn Should I receive. {A knock is heard: Mordecai ^^(?j- to the door. As he opens it LiViA is seen.) {Aside.) But to invite the trust. So that the giver thinks he gives unasked, Is always lawful. What she seeks is plain : I 've marked her keen ambition, and can use. {Aloud.) Admit the sister. (LiViA comes forward to the table.) Opportunely come ! And hence the rules of council we suspend. If you have knowledge, or your woman's wit 138 THE PROPHET. [Act V. Works, with result, for our deliverance, Be welcome, speak, and we shall gladly hear ! LIVIA. My knowledge is not more, my zeal not less, Than yours ; my skill to work with minor arts Which must prevail with individual wills, Ere, as a body, all are moved one way, Perchance as great : so much is known to you. This is no time for testing special power, When any weapon, be it wielded well, Becomes a rightful arm. Our danger lies In suffering our young order to be jarred Too suddenly, or slowly undermined By such defence as leaves the end a doubt. Between the two we need steer carefully. You have the rudder ; give an oar to me. NIMROD. You apprehend the crisis, and have guessed Why, measuring it, we have not spoken yet. 'T is purposeless extremity of fear Begets submission : what were best to do. Too soon declared, is lightly criticised ; But, now they cry for guidance, we present Calm fronts of unperturbed authority. We crave to act : the Prophet only fails In revelation, which may be denied, If human craft sufifice : or, unto you Hath he declared his will ? LIVIA. Not unto me, Surely, ungifted with commissioned power. Scene III.] THE PROPHET, 139 NIMROD. Yet that pretence of law which threatens us Concerns you most. Our body is not yet The giant it shall be : the covenant, Now made an accusation, must be kept By secret truth, the evidence held back, — So, nothing proven, all their charges fail. We best oppose by seeming to submit. Unaided, they examine : not a tongue Profanes the mysteries of Zion's house ; And, once so foiled, our skill and industry, Our peace and order, only, noised abroad. They will not haste to court a second blame. SIMEON. The wisdom of the serpent speaks in that ! LIVIA [aside). And leaves the serpent's slime ! {Aloud.) You, then, accept Their whole procedure, — law, and court, and judge, And twelve such fools as never heard of us. Arrest, and trial ? First, of course, they seize The Prophet ! NIMROD. Me, instead ! I will so lead Suspicion from its present course in them. My craft of brain, that cannot reach his gift Of prayer and vision, hath its office here : It will exalt my soul with holy joy To triumph o'er the Gentiles ! 140 THE PROPHET. [Act V. LIVIA. Prophecy Is that : the power awakes in you : I thought Your gift was "craft of brain." Why, 'tis a scheme Where every wheel must with a hundred ifs Be cogged, or none of them will bite ! The law Takes any shape it likes : by prejudice It moves the eleven, and wearies out the one Within whose brain some dream of justice lives. Yes, were our danger, law ! But, while you wait Your own arrest in all decorous form. Whose hand shall stay the rufHan horde behind From force and outrage ? NIMROD. Woman's brain is quick To make a part the whole, and for her wits Work easy triumph. I but told you part. LIVIA [aside). Too quick, indeed ! I should have cheated him By feigned acceptance, till I learned the whole. He may cajole by truth, as others do By falsehood. {Aloicd.) Nay, if hastily I spake, The cause lay deeper than my woman's brain. NIMROD {smiling). I saw it beating, faster than your words. I but consider, not decide : the plan Waits for the sanction of our Church's head, Which he, in strange uncertainty, withholds. If to the movement of his mind your own Scene III.] THE PROPHET. 141 May give direction, bid him not delay ; Or, still irresolute, set free my hands, To work for him. MORDECAI. The Twelve are as one man. SIMEON. The priest speaks for us. NIMROD. And the people wait. Decide to help, where all is known and weighed ; Or, knowing little, work your random will, And bring us ruin ! LIVIA, You would weigh me down With much capacity. If you believed My power, you would not threaten such result, But coax and flatter me to shift my part. Deal fairly, priest, and you shall have my aid ! You 're certain of success : you only need Unhindered leadership (the Prophet's place Transferred, in seeming, that he 'scape the risk). And then, submissive where they look for strife. You will confound the Gentiles ! Far too bold For any brain but yours ! Were not your blood So passionless, your keen intelligence So coldly watchful, I should doubt the end ; But now — I go to do the work you set ! MORDECAI. That 's a beginning ! 142 THE PROPHET. [Act V. SIMEON. How you bent her will ! I never saw the like. NIMROD. Ay, ay ! The power Sometimes is with me : may it oftener come ! {Aside.) The work I set ? She '11 do the opposite, Or else her lying candor lies again. " So passionless ! " — ha ! ha ! The time may come When she shall say of me, " Too passionate ! " I think I 've striven to turn away the storm ; But, if they will not see, so let it burst ! They're all mistaken : 'tis no thunder-cloud That rattles half an hour, and rolls away ; But something that will tear us from our roots, And sweep us far into the wilderness. My own device might gain a little grace To dull the blow : yet our prosperity Tempts, as upon a counter scattered gold; And, though the first wave strike us harmlessly, A second one will follow. Better now Set matters where they needs must terminate ! I 've learned to rule, even while obeying most ; And I shall surely learn to bind and seal By revelation, as my gifts increase. Scene IV.] THE PROPHET. 143 Scene IV. In front of the temple. A mimher of people collected ; David, 'NiMRO'D,ajtd variotis members of the Twyiny., among them. LiviA moves from one to another of the restless, excited bs. A MAN. They should have armed us first ! A SECOND. The priest is shrewd To keep his knowledge till it 's time to use. He has something ready : mark his quick gray eye ! - A THIRD. The secrecy they lay upon us means That we may be examined : more than that It's hard to guess. LIVIA {whispering). Keep you the peace, unless They would arrest the Prophet, — then resist ! \She passes on. A MESSENGER. ( To David.) There are but four : their head is Sheriff Hyde. Our watchmen stopped them at the wood below, And now are leading hither : they would speak With you, and with the Twelve. DAVID. Go, bid them come ! 144 THE PROPHET. [Act V. NIMROD. Have you considered our united mind ? Here is it urgent that a single voice Declare the answer. First must come demand, Which, save its words and full intent were known, We cannot meet beforehand. I will wait. NIMROD. This only, let me speak ! Exact delay For consultation, when demand is made : They are but four ; yet each doth represent A hundred more in ambush ! Are you sure Of Hugh's fidelity ! NIMROD. As of his life ! And whether Jonas did escape to them, Or by the Lord was silenced, — either way He served us first : so far have we been helped To their discomfiture ! {Movement in the crowd. The peoj>le fall back, and COLO- NEL Hyde, with three companions, guarded on each side by the watchmen of Zion, come forzvard.) COLONEL HYDE. Which man of you Calls himself Prophet ? Scene IV.j THE PROPHET. I45 DAVID. Chosen of the Lord Am I, and Prophet called by these, my flock. COLONEL HYDE. You 're he I seek. The law, that freedom gives To manifold belief, now takes alarm At vicious usages, by you proclaimed As holy. You are called to meet the charge Of wilful crime, with others, whom to this You have persuaded. {Murmurs among the people.) And should I resist Such intermeddhng with permitted faith ? COLONEL HYDE. Though loud report of your licentious lives Commands my action, we are armed with proof, And here resistance would be added crime. Will you submit } or shall I raise my voice, And call the County's power ? ( Ttimultuott,s movement among the people.) VOICES. Go back ! go back ! We guard the Prophet ! Touch him if you dare ! NIMROD. Be quiet, brethren ! Law should not be rash To hasten conflicts which she might allay. You, Colonel Hyde, have spoken ; we demand A space for counsel ere we make reply. Come three days hence — 10 146 THE PROPHET. [Act V. COLONEL HYDE. One day, no more ! {Struggle and confusion on the outskirts of the crowd ; min- gled voices and cries.) SARAH. Let go ! I have done nothing ! Let me free, I say ! DAVID. Hold, hold ! COLONEL HYDE. My cousin's wife ! SARAH. {Rushing forward wildly, her hair streaming over her shotU- ders.) You have not seen Jonas ? No need to answer that : he 's dead ! Oh, save me ! take me with you ! NIMROD {aside). Cursdd luck ! I thought she had escaped, but this is worse. COLONEL HYDE. What means your terror ? SARAH. Jonas never came From you. t I thought him held, at first, and made Vain outcries ; then I feared for mine own life. And hid till now. Upon my way to you Came two, and held me fast with violent hands, The Prophet's serving-man — Scene IV.] THE PROPHET. 147 DAVID. It cannot be ! Peter ? SARAH. — and one the high-priest often calls To do his secret work. NIMROD. I ordered them. The woman's grief, the Prophet's sympathy Therewith, gave me desire to question her. If thus our kindness frightens, let her go, And you may test the value of the tongue That speaks such folly ! COLONEL HYDE. Sarah, come with us ! (r^ David.) To-morrow, at this hour, expect me here ! \_Exit with Sarah, his companions, and the watchmen, NIMROD {aside). There go the Gentile torches, all ablaze, Which shall consume the temple ! DAVID. If Still you owe me service Peter, here, \Exit. LIVIA. So, high-priest, The court is opened, and the jury called ; Only the culprits have not reached the bar ! 148 THE PROPHET, [Act V, NIMROD. Some walls are built with clear design to stand For ages ; but the finger of a child May pick a stone out ere the mortar dries, And leave a crevice for the wedge of frost To slowly split the fabric. You exult As such a child might do. LIVIA {aside). He frightens me. Scene V. Sunset. An outer street of the city. A number of men a$> sembled : Peter in the midst. SEVERAL VOICES. We will not yield ! A MAN. The Lord should send a sign, If ever, now, when to His flock dismayed The wolf comes howling ! PETER. 'T is n't just the howL He means to pounce upon our leader-ram. Then lazily bite our throats from day to day. The priest says, " Let him ! " But you run down hill To law, and up steep rocks climb out again. VOICES. Ay, that is truth ! Scene V.] THE PROPHET. 149 PETER. And he, to boot, mistakes Through over-sharpness. Doing what he bade, I harmed the Prophet in the sheriff's eyes ; And that wild woman will improve the tale, Until they see — the Lord knows what — in him. I 'm bound to make my blunder good. LIVIA {approaching). You are ! I '11 show you how : there 's little time to lose. How many here have arms 1 VOICES. I have ! And I ! LIVIA. And, had you not the hearts of fighting men, You would not answer thus. They think us weak Or timorous : let them come in that conceit ! One sharp repulse will so confuse their plan That time is gained ; and what protection lies In martial garrisons the nation plants, For need, along the lawless, wild frontier, May come to aid us, or to stand between. VOICES. That 's to the point ! Such talk we understand. LIVIA. Shall we submit to scarce the name of law. Much less its substance ? Who are they that shake The sword of justice, which would pierce themselves If they let go the hilt ? What ! suffer them To seize at will, until our strength is shorn, 150 THE PROPHET. [Act V. And Zion's riches to their hands lie bare ? Not you ! I know you ! VOICES. No, we '11 fight them first ! LIVIA. You will ! And, if no man dares lead you forth, I '11 be your captain : there are Jaels yet ! Let each his neighbor summon ; scour your guns, Run even your clock-weights into bullet-moulds, And tell your wives that milk from manly veins Looks worse than blood ! {She beckons to one of the men following her, who comes for- ward, and unrolls a bajmer, tvith a golden lion on a red ground.) Behold our banner spread, Yours and the Prophet's ! See that first it float Amid the smoke, which, when it drifts away. Leaves victory behind ! You want a song, To set the courage of your hearts in words. And bid it ring beneath the echoing heaven. Hear, then ! I 've made it for you, and will sing ! [She sings.) Children of Zion, Crouch as a lion, Eager to fly on Foes that deride ! Rise for the Prophet ! Arm for the Prophet ! Fight for the Prophet ! Fling his banner wide ! Scene V.] THE PROPHET. 151 ALL. {EjitJmsiastically repeating the last Imes, as chorus.) Fight for the Prophet ! Fling his banner wide ! ( The men gradzially disperse.') LIVIA {sohis). I live at last ! 'T was more than love inspired This counter-plot, though love like mine were more Than cause and needful spur. I live and move, Bid others hve and play the parts I set, Concentrate .petty forces to one end Which grandly must succeed, or grandly fail, — But, either way, I act ! The top of life, Methinks, is action, when the field is broad ; For power of nature cannot truly be, Till it is proved on others. Ah, he comes ! My dream was that I work for him alone : Why, since both power and passion wed, I do ! (David approaches.) Lift up your front, my Prophet ! 'T is the eve Of strength secured : the test, the hostile charge, Draw near the moment when they sink in dust ; And, after one dim bar of cloud, your sun Will hold the sky ! DAVID. 'Tis dusk: the sun is down. Old habit says the day will dawn again After a certain darkness : have you thought. What if it should not dawn ? 'T is possible. 152 THE PROPHET. [Act V. LIVIA. Yes, when no triumph calls the daylight up; When human souls, in all God's world, are dumb ; When hope is choked, and, like neglected fire, The spark of prayer dies out, and even love Awaits no morrow sweeter than to-day, — Then, then, 't were possible ! DAVID. Can light be drawn Even from the spirit, as the warmth from blood? You seem to shine, as you possessed the glow I thought was mine : you see where I am dark ; And, where I walk confounded, you rejoice. Whence comes your confidence ? What near success Fore-glorifies you ? LIVIA. Pardon, if to you I still keep silent ! Faith, no less than love, May have its budded secret, soon to bloom. For some few rapid hours endure your place, As now, while others work, — I least, perhaps, Though most in will : the lower necessity Is ours to meet, yea, ours to overcome. They wait my word. LIVIA. I know it. They best learn Now, when their minds are sore perturbed, to wait. Can you bestow on clouded eyes and brains Your perfect gift ? or justify each step, Greater than Moses, to the murmuring throng ? Scene VI.] THE PROPHET. 153 The human with the godhke essence strives In you ; and, when your soul would sanction, straight The heart stands up in protest : heed it not, While others can be merely man ! Go, then ! i cannot meet your words, and will not ask What hope sheds brightness on your face. Farewell ! LIVIA. Farewell ! \Exit David. And for the last time, half-apart And half-acknowledged, do I say. Farewell ! Scene VI. Night. A room in the Prophet's house. David, seated at a desk, with his back towards Rhoda. He opens papers, looks at them mechanically , lays them aside, and at last rests his head icpon his hand. Rhoda sits in another part of the room, with her hands clasped in her lap. Once or tiuice she lifts her head, looks at David, and seems about to speak. DAVID. ( Turning suddenly. ) You 're watching me ! RHODA. Nay, waiting ; and, besides, Wishing that you would speak. To-day's affairs Leave me in doubt of what the morrow brings. There 's something in a charge that frightens me, 154 THE PROPHET. [Act V. Though vilely made : I never dreamed that crime, Even as a painted threat, could be so flung Into our faces. DAVID. Into mine, not yours ! RHODA. It is the same : the threat, the impossible fact. One like the other, at my honor strikes. I do not think of that. Oh, were the day. And all its horrible aspects, safely o'er ! Were you a nameless servant of the Lord, Somewhere with me and with our helpless child, A taper burning calmly, not, as now, A bonfire whirled and beaten by the winds. What peace were mine ! VOICES. {Outside,^ singing in passing.) Fight for the Prophet ! Fling his banner wide ! RHODA. But, no ! you dare not fly Though yet the chance is free. The frightened flock, In its devoted faith, appeals to you. Who, having led to this, must lead beyond. An hour 's enough : the river's middle stops Pursuit and summons ; but, were you and I This moment seated on the farther shore. We needs must cross again. DAVID. Do you say that ? Scene VI.] THE PROPHET. 155 Do you set duty higher than our lives ? Why, she could say no more ! RHODA. {In a low voice. ) Ah, spare me, David ! {A long silence.) DAVID {rmcsingly). Were we together, Rhoda ? yes, we were ! One day in June ; long, long ago it was : Wild strawberries along the clearing's edge Were thick that year ; but we grew tired at last ; And I, stretched flat among the fragrant vines, Looked at the sky : I saw no other thing. The blue retreated as my vision reached ; And as a pebble slowly deeper, deeper sinks In still, dark water, up and upward sank My soul, and sank, and still there was no end. Somewhere, at last, beyond the invisible stars, A hoary brightness gathered from the void. And from the midst there looked a single Eye, Compact of all ineffable light, — His eye ! And did not blind me. RHODA. David ! and I cried : You would not speak : I thought you vexed, unkind ! I could not know, till now. DAVID. We came from school One day, when, from a rising arch of cloud, The tempest strained the black-oak on the hill. You feared to pass : I shouted, through the roar, 156 THE PROPHET. [Act V. " You will not hurt us, God ! " and then a bolt Split with red fire the surging firmament. But you were pale with terror ; on my breast You hid your eyes ; while I, in solemn joy, Chanted aloud, and waved my arms aloft. And felt strange fingers pluck my beaten hair, As one may tease in fondness. Say, do you Remember, Rhoda ? RHODA {weeping). Oh, I do ! DAVID. How now, You cry for memory of it ? Ah ! I see. Your memory wears another hue than mine. You tremble : I exult ! RHODA. Upon us sweeps A blacker tempest now. Go you to rest ; If struggle come, so gather strength for it. Fret not for me : my body must be as dead Before my soul is verily alive. \Exit Rhoda, slozvly. A pause. They look to me : if I, in turn, look up. What help is certain ? Yea, but first to look ! I urge my thought ; but, swerving from its aim, It backward speeds, and paints anew the past In colors which confound me. 'T is not doubt; 'T is no renewal of old agonies : But something cold, that wears the shape of Truth, Scene VI.] THE PROPHET. 157 Treads down with heavy step, along my path, The springing harvest, and with fateful hand Makes sien, " Go on : I follow ! " Get you gone, Device of Satan ! Is His law a lie ? He made the covenant a perfect chain. Which, link by link, am I restoring, soon To gird us round about, — a lesser world Where He may reign : one flaw, and all must go ! One flaw ? There is no torture known in hell Enough for such malevolence, if so ! I '11 put Thee to the test : our strait is sore ; Thine intervention, since the world began, Never so needed : — do Thy miracle ! Or stand aloof, and let Thy thunders growl In leash. Thy lightnings flash a distant threat ; But breathe one word of counsel, — give my soul, Passive before Thee, one victorious thought ! {He paces the room for so?jie minutes in great excitement, then suddenly stops. ) My prayers rebound, as from a sohd wall ; My brain refuses to anticipate The coming problem ; and my very hope Strains, like an eye in darkness, foiled of use ! What palsy thus disorders every sense Wherein the spirit lives ? I cannot see A hand's-breadth forward, nay, nor fancy aught : The light burns backward over what has been ; And its last glimmer, fading at my feet, Leaves all the future darkness ! Oh, my God ! The mortal anguish of a life at bay, 158 THE PROPHET. [Act V. Escape cut off, the certainty of doom. All that is visited upon the flesh, — Methinks were easy. Mine is death in life ; The sinews severed, and the strength as dead ; No power to reach, not even knowledge left Of how or whither, but the soul a corpse ! I '11 strive no more : I '11 neither think nor pray : Let accident become my deity ! Scene VII. The interior of the temple. Men, women, and children ered in groups. NiMROD, on the platform in front of the Holy of Holies, trims the lights burning in the seven- branched candlesticks. Simeon and Mordecai, near the door, conferring with two messengers. FIRST MESSENGER. I counted them as they came o'er the rise, And nigh two hundred were they. SIMEON. Did you mark Some in advance ? — signs of a summons first, Preceding force ? FIRST MESSENGER. Their march was orderly. SIMEON. [To Mordecai.) Then it would seem he has them well in hand ; And, whether violence be done, depends Chiefly on him. But who went forth from us ? Scene VILJ THE PROPHET. 159 SECOND MESSENGER. This side the border brook, I saw go out Three Members of the Twelve : John surely was The first, Elisha and Zerubbabel I thought the others. MORDECAT. (7b Simeon.) By the Prophet sent ? SIMEON. By him allowed ; for neither Yea nor Nay He answered them or me. His gifts grow weak When most we need them ; but the day may cast The power in stronger hands, and save us all ! {Sound of drums and trinnpets outside. Voices singing.) Fight for the Prophet ! Fling his banner wide ! SIMEON. Hark, there ! Who leads them ? Follow, — bring re- port ! \^Exit Messengers, NIMROD. [Coming down frojn the altar.) My hands are tied : all ye who hear me, note ! Bear witness, that, if blood be shed this day, My garments are not stained. I would have given Myself as pledge, so using human craft (Which, for His glory, sanctifies the Lord) To foil the Gentiles ; now it seems too late ; But, when all other virtue is outworn. Then turn to me. WOMEN. Go forth, and hold them back ! i6o THE PROPHET. [Act V. NIMROD. Though driven to ruin's edge, I still obey : Heed ye the lesson ! [Enter YyKSfiV), pale and troubled : Rhoda follows him, bear- ing the child in her arms.) DAVID. {Looking on the f7Hghtened groups.) Save all these, high-priest ! I give them to your hands : take boat, and cross Beyond the reach of this authority Which smites them with disorderly alarm. 'T will soon be settled whether you return, Or we must join you. NIMROD. Suffer me to wait. While aught of peril menaces yourself ! {Sounds of firing in the distance: cries and confusio7t among the people. ) A MAN. {Rushing in.) They 're firing, by the wood ! Theirs, on the plain; Ours, covered by the timber : some were down Before the smoke got thick ! DAVID. {To MORDECAI.) It must not be ! Quick ! — something white ! Within the chancel, there, My prophet-mantle, as the sign of truce ! ( While MoRDECAi obeys this command, the sotcnd of firiftg draws nearer.) Scene VII.] THE PROPHET. i6i PETER. {Enters, wounded in the arm.) First, give me water ! {It is broicgJit from the baptisnial font. He drinks.) Scarce there 's time to tell : Get over the river ! — that was what she said. DAVID. Who brought this on ? PETER. They wanted you, — no less Would answer : we refused to give you up, And blocked their marching nearer ; then — they fired !. Our volleys tore and scattered them a bit, But they 're too many. She went here and there. Put heart in all, and like a general led. And not a bullet touched her : then, when I Was hit in turn, she sent me posting here. We 're falling back, but slowly, facing them : Don't lose a minute — ugh ! the thing 's no fun : My arm feels ugly. {He faints.) DAVID. Rhoda, look to him ! My place is at the front : 't is me alone They seek, and they may have me ! \Exit. RHODA. {Giving her child to one of the wofnejt.) Lift his head, Undo his collar ! There ! I 've bound his arm, II 1 62 THE PROPHET. [Act V. And bathed his brow with water from the font : He soon will breathe again. I pray you, give My child your tenderness, if I should die ! [Exit, following DAVID, NIMROD. You heard ? He gave you to my hands : I charge, By him commissioned, that your fears be still ! If there be traitors here, let flame from Heaven Their tongues make cinder, that they cannot speak ! We will submit, in all external forms, Even to the Gentiles ; then in secret pass The river, bearing our most precious goods Beyond their reach : our spies have gone abroad, And found another Eshcol in the West. Within our hands lies all we builded here, And they, upheld by faith, shall build again ! This is no time for lamentation : hope As ye have never hoped, have confidence Ye never felt, await triumphant signs Reserved for you, His people ! VOICES. Yea, we will ! {Scattered mushet-sJiots outside the temple : wild, piercing cries are heard. Immediately afterwards the chancel-door is torn open, and a mtmber of armed men, some of them wounded, enter the temple. Then David appears, shot through the breast, and held up by Rhoda and LiViA, supporting him on either side. Cries and lamentations among the people gathered in the temple^ DAVID. Forward ! to the altar, to the altar ! Scene VII.] THE PROPHET. 163 CRIES. Lord! Save him, Thy Prophet, for Thyself and us ! (David, supported by Rhoda and Livia, totters forwards, and is upheld by them, leaning against the altar.) DAVID. Oh for a little life ! it fades so fast ! Hear me, my brethren ! I will only speak Words needful : not too late, the shadow falls That veiled mine eyes : confusion has an end. NIMROD. [Aside.) What means he ? {Aloud, to the people.) Silence, all ! The Prophet speaks, In this extremity, to you ! DAVID. {With difficulty.) Be still ! Each word you utter steals a word of mine, And few are left me : let me but begin ! I see so much at once ! all things are clear ; But speech grows weak. Ah, hearken, brethren mine ! How say it all ? I pray you, bid your souls Rise quickly up, and save me half ! O God, It is for Thee ! — leave me one moment here ! See, I am dying ! On the edge of life, Truth's lightning flashes backward and beyond : So hear ! First — Hold me firm, I slide away ! Lord, Lord, be merciful ! no time is left ! 164 THE PROPHET. [Act V. I see no more — but, yes ! one blessed face : 'T is yours! — you're with me, Rhoda ! — you^ my love ! {He turns towards Rhoda as he speaks, and falls upon her breast, with his arms hanging over her shoulders.) LI VI A. Help ! Lift him up ! he faints. RHODA. Nay, he is dead ! Leave us ! You have no more a part in him : He is all mine at last ! ( Clasping DAVID to her breast, she sinks slowly down at the foot of the altar.) NIMROD. So death cuts short The weakness which had nigh betrayed us all ! His gift and power become our heritage ; And Zion lives, and shall be strong, through me ! (Colonel Hyde and his men force an entrance into the por- tal of the temple. A wild scene of confusion among the peo- ple. NiMROD Kraft snatches the ark from the altar, and escapes throtigh the chancel-door.) THE CURTAIN FALLS. THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. DRAMATIS PERSONS. A Voice from Space. Chorus of Spirits. Elohim. Immanuel. Jove. Apollo. Brahma. Ormuzd. Ahriman. Odin. Baal. Perun. Manito. Man. The Sea. The Mountains. The Rivers. The Trees. The Serpents. The Wolves. The Caverns. The Rocks. THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. Scene L T%e high tahle-land of Fame7^e. Midnight. The distant snow- peaks of the Himalayas, the Hindoo-Koosh, and the Kiien- Liin shining in the moonlight. At first, silence ; then, slowly and ijidistinctly, THE ROCKS. WE scarcely change, though wind and rain and thunder Blow, beat, and fall, for many a thousand years ; And yet we miss the dread, the ignorant wonder, The dark, stern being, born of human fears. The stains of blood, upon our bases sprinkled, Are washed away ; the fires no longer flame : The stars behold our foreheads still unwrinkled ; We were, and are, but Man is not the same. * THE CAVERNS. With murmurs, vibrations. With rustlings and whispers. And voices of darkness. We breathe as of old. Through the roots of the mountains, Under beds of the rivers. 1 68 THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. [Scene I. We wander and deepen In silence and cold. But the language of terror, Foreboding, or promise. The mystical secrets That made us sublime. Have died in our keeping : Our speech is confusion : We mark but the empty Rotations of Time. THE SERPENTS. We glided once with crowned and lifted head. Our supple grace a wonder to the wise. Power in our starry eyes, And sacred mystery o'er our being shed, But grace and power and mystery are fled. Our smooth, cold undulations gave the sign Of fate to nations ; fanes for us were built. And blood of victims spilt. To win a favoring answer at our shrine : Silent were we, and thence, of right, divine ! Are we aught else ? Yet now we crawl instead, Crownless, and shorn of power we did not crave. But they unbidden gave : Held once as gods, we shrink to shapes of dread, And writhe abased, with bruised and trampled head ! THE WOLVES. Prowling on the highlands In the ghastly dawn, We scent the steam of slaughter, Ere the sword is drawn : Scene L] THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. 169 Sated with the corpses, 'Neath the moon, at last. We sleep, and let the vulture Finish his repast. Where delay the wizards, Who were wont to claim Fur and fang and fleetness, And the fearful name ? Heart of man within us. Hate of man to speed, More than ours the terror, Terribler the deed ! ODIN. Be silent ! Ye are not sons of Fenrir's race. The huge, the fierce of fang ! What will ye here, Where even Gods grow dim, and scarce behold Themselves, or hear the echo of their speech ? Methinks I slept, but for how long a time I know not : dreams, or memories of a home, Surround me still, and something cold, remote. Some rude resemblance of the world I swayed, Revives my waning power. Once more I speak. And marvel at the accents, sealed so long. But who art thou, the dark of aspect, here Confronting me, no less a shade, but more. Though lost capacity for wrath would fain Assert itself, and shape thine ancient threat ? I fear thee not. PERUN. Yet was I feared erewhile. Older than thou, and mightier, I but gave My footstool, not my throne, when came thy reign. I70 THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. [Scene I. I held my sceptre still ; and on black stones, The natural altars tumbled from the cliffs, Frost-carved and thunder-polished, took the blood Of secret worship, heard the fierce appeals That half implored my favor, half defied. I ruled by right of eldest cruelty : The savage strength of man renewed my life, And still renews, though all my frame is lean And racked with hunger, — but I am not dead. BAAL. Nor I, whose temples mimicked once the hills. For those strong lusts of men I kept alive, They gave me splendor and a mighty name. None older is than I. When Man came forth, The final effort, wrung from monstrous forms, And Earth's outwearied forces could no more, I warmed the ignorant bantling on my breast. We rose together, and my kingdom spread From these cold hills to hamlets in the palms. That grew to Memphis and to Babylon; While I, on towers and hanging terraces, In shaft and obehsk, beheld my sign Creative, shape of first imperious law. Thou, Odin, lord of strength, and thou, Perun, Of fear and fierceness, never touched the springs Of life, your faint existence there to feed. It must be you shall pass : your forms are thin As incense-smoke : what made you shall unmake. But I beget, not slay, — grant overplus. Where you are niggard, — drink from hidden founts, That flow through channels of the riotous blood, And keep men at the level of their source. I may be weakened, but I cannot die. Scene I.] THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. 17 1 MANITO. If I be old, I know not : ye are strange, Yet kindred, — long conjectured, here beheld. I have some fitful power, which now is dread, Now merciful, and, as I think, is good. The smokes I breathed are shrunk and almost spent ; The shouted hymns but faintly stir mine ears ; The blood of dog, and bear, and buffalo, Gives me but scanty life ; and through the lands I governed, seated in my hunting-grounds Above the sky,. my messenger the swan. My slaves the beaver and the crafty fox. The voices which address me slowly fail. But ye, of other worlds, declare me this, Am I myself, or am I made of them ? If, as I fear, their simple souls had need Of One supreme, and therefore I became ; Or if, alone before them, I have drawn Through ages of unchanged companionship — Since lonely Gods must stoop to play with men — Their color to my face, their joys to mine. And to their prayers the expected answer given, Declare me this ! ODIN. Who shall declare the thing ? Dost thou, the lowest of us all, provoke The chill that made me shudder on my throne In Asgaard, when the gold-haired Freya wept, And the sweet hght of Balder's eyes grew dim ? Are we, then, born of those who kneel to us ? Shall we the doubter slay, who doubt ourselves ? Or cease to be, who grant the sacred gift Of the immortal banquet ? I am faint With more than craving for forgotten rites, 172 THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. [Scene I. And even might perish, did not something burn In mine impoverished being from above, As if Man's shadow met a light in me, Coming, I know not whence : but it is good. BAAL. Dost thou confess it, Odin ? That we live. Outliving name and prayer and sacrifice. Save such as in the heart and limbs of Man Unconsciously is rendered, tests the truth Of ancient godship, yet dependent still On something strange, and mightier than ourselves. Were we but servants, then, instead of lords ? Did blood and odor, sound of harp and horn. And choral cries from multitudes of men, But pass our palates and our ears, to reach The senses of some sole Divinity, Whom we thus flattered ? When I looked below Upon my soaring fane in Babylon, Who was 't looked down on me ? Who shook my soul, But not with fear, or hate, or jealousy, — Since each were vain, — but something fine and pure, That made me stagger, as my feet were clay ? PERUN. Why, then, if such there be, I know Him not. ODIN. Peace, ignorant savage ! To thy Lord and mine Dream no rebellion ! By His leave we are, No less than Man's necessity. But what He is, where throned, and how upheld in power, I fain would know. Scene I.] THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. i73 A VOICE FROM SPACE. Lo ! I am that I am. (^A patcse.) THE GODS. We cannot understand Thee, yet we bow, And, without knowledge, own Thee : are we Thine, Or shall we cease when men no more believe ? A VOICE FROM SPACE. Mine are ye : also Man's. THE GODS. We feel, and must Acknowledge Thee. Our questioning is vain And self-betraying, since to question is No office of the Gods. We yield to Thee, Who knowest, but who wilt not answer us. MAN. We burned their temples, overturned their altars ; Through force or love we learned the newer worship, And taught our children other than our fathers. We gave them fear, we gave them war and slaughter, We died to keep them in their sacred houses, We lived to crown them rulers of the nations. But they forget, they perish or desert us. Too weak, without us, to become immortal. They change like us, yet claim to sit above us, Our likenesses, of grander limb and feature. Of stronger hate and lust, and gentler pity. We dream of higher, yet we cannot reach them ; We grope for something which our hands can cling to, Our eyes behold, our minds accept and fathom ; And, groping, seizing, holding, lo ! they fail us As they were not — yet must we fear and worship. 174 THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. [Scene II. Scene II. A Doric temple, in rttins, on a headland above the ^gean Sea. A valley and mountains in the backgroimd. Early dawn. THE TREES. Barrenly murmur through manifold branches, Answer the billows that tumble ashore, Blossom or strip in the march of the seasons, We are but sport of the winds, and no more ! Shadow we give them where once we were holy, Lintel and beam for the being they stole ; Service for sacrifice, litter for garlands. Use for the Beauty they granted a soul. Desolate, cold, is the shell of the Dryad ; Still are the dances, the oracles dumb : Playmates of old, we are slighted as strangers, Shorn of our honor in ages to come ! THE RIVERS. We are loud and silent, we hasten and dally. We bless and waste, as in days that are dead ; We dance on the hillside and sleep in the valley, With the rocks as a cradle, the reeds as a bed ; But the nymphs of our fountains leave them untended, And the god of the stream is gone from his urn : The term of our human beauty is ended, And its liquid graces shall never return. Scene II.] THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. 175 We bless and waste, we si^eed in our courses, We urge and pilot, we cheer and call ; We wander and widen, with fetterless forces. Servants and lovers and lords of all ! The pulses of Life, in our veins unbroken, The movement of Life, in the tides we pour, Still bind us to men, with a secret token, And keep us kindred, though none adore ! THE MOUNTAINS. Howe'er the wheels of Time go round, We cannot wholly be discrowned. We bind, in form, and hue, and height, The Finite to the Infinite, And, lifted on our shoulders bare, The races breathe an ampler air. The arms that clasped, the lips that kissed, Have vanished from the morning mist ; The dainty shapes that flashed and passed In spray the plunging torrent cast, Or danced through woven gleam and shade, The vapors and the sunbeams braid. Grow thin and pale : each holy haunt Of Gods or spirits ministrant Hath something lost of ancient awe ; Yet from the stooping heavens we draw A beauty, mystery, and might. Time cannot change nor worship slight. The gold of dawn and sunset sheds Unearthly glory on our heads ; The secret of the skies we keep ; And whispers, round each lonely steep. Allure and promise, yet withhold, What bard and prophet never told. While Man's slow ages come and go, 176 THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. [Scene II. Our dateless chronicles of snow Their changeless old inscription show, And men therein forever see The unread speech of Deity. THE SEA. What were the bloodless nymphs, the Triton swarms, The car of Cypris, Galatea's shell, The green-haired Gods, the cold, ambiguous forms That in me dwelt, or only seemed to dwell ? What did I care for Glaucus by the shore, Or Proteus hiding in the hollow cave ? That yon blue billow old Poseidon bore, Or Aphrodite warmed this amber wave ? Those freaks of fancy were as dying spray, The foamy fringes of the strength I hurled, Whose bosom heaves to one unsetting Day, The azure guard and girdle of the world. If Man gives being, he gave naught to me. And of mine empire naught has overthrown : I am, I was, and I shall ever be Apart in power, inviolate, unknown. Before my myriad voices he is dumb, Yet probes their meaning in eternal pain : I call him, and he cannot fail to come, I cast him forth, and he returns again. So many Gods have I exalted hailed. So many, spurned, have rotted in my breast; Yet mine the balanced powers wherein they failed, — The face of action and the heart of rest ! Scene II.] THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. 177 JOVE. I hear thine ancient murmur, and the slow Reverberation from thy thousand shores. Who knovvs thee, cannot die : for those, thy Gods, My brood that peopled thee, but strayed in joy Of half -existence o'er thy restless fields. What though Olympus props dismantled halls, The dust of ages on their golden chairs, And Ganymede is but a heap of bones Beside the shrivelled eagle, — still I live, Much as I was before my children made Their easy ladders for the climbing souls Of men, who dreamed while dreaming that they knew. All chains of life they grasped led back to me ; All aspirations pointed on to me, And, like thyself, I bounded then the world. If now the chains be broken, otherwhere The eyes be turned, and features not mine own Shine from that void beyond both men and Gods, Shall I then cease ? Not so : the later reign Is built on mine, of mine the later laws Are born, and he who rules resembles me. ELOHIM. Thou liest to thyself, as thou erewhile Didst lie to men. We saw thy hollow state, And we allowed, foreknowing its decay. Stretch not this tolerance, which lets thee still Dream olden dreams, see olden visions, claim — Since broken is thy painted thunderbolt — The lightnings of the Law ! We led the tribes. By changing pillars of the cloud and fire. From On to Pisgah : we upheld their hands : We planted them among the pleasant vales. And they, our children, knew the Lord their God. 12 lyS THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. [Scene II. They cried, and we did hear : they went astray, And then we smote them : as they honored us, We gave them honor, and as they obeyed We blessed them ; till the chosen seed became Exalted o'er the kingdoms of the world. Thy bestial co-mates, Baal and Peor And Ashtaroth, have died disgraceful deaths : Why livest thou ? JOVE. Thou wert a jealous God, And wouldst none others have beside thee. Yet They were, and led thy chosen seed astray. If, knowing thee, men justice learned, and truth, And worship, which is highest, I bestowed Joy, beauty, grace, and with permitted toys Coaxed my fair children to a fairer state. I grudged thee not thy shrines and oracles. Prophet, and judge, and psalmist, having mine. I saw thy ways, and read what even thou Not yet acknowledgest, but which draws nigh To shake our thrones : for as we are, we are : We cannot rise when clearer eyes of men Attain our height, and strive to pierce beyond Their own colossal shadows. Mark where ours Fall side by side upon the race below, Featured ahke in power and majesty, Yet fading in a sweet and solemn light That dawns above them ! Be not wroth with me : I kept thy secret as thou keptest mine. ELOHIM. Yea, thou hast worked for us : what we foreknew Was thy foreboding. If, like cloud on cloud. Something of us is dimly thrown on thee, Scene II.] THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. 179 We are the sun whereby our shadow falls. If thou wouldst live, teach men the way to us Through just-ice, fear, and through avenging law ; And leave thy lusts and base necessities To those below the thunder ! JOVE. See, where come The orbs of Ligth and Darkness from the East, Across thy heavens, as 't were the cloud of stars Beside the lone black blot of starless space, In that far universe I know not of. They, too, are Gods, and claim their equal seats. ORMUZD. Be mighty, ye, for them who look to Power ; Be stern and just for them who bow to Law ; Be jealous, kind, or cruel, as your tribes Demand such discipline ! I am but one, One spirit, effluence, operation, force. One sweet and sovereign heart, whose beats began With first of things, and shall be felt in all Forever ! Void of veil or mystery My being men behold, and with weak arms Draw down to wed their own, and give them peace. The lowest feels me, and the highest fails To grasp my sole omnipotence of Good. AHRIMAN. Make room for me, twin of thine eldest birth ! If each bright sun in all the studded sky Be throne, at once, and fountain of thy rays. Yet in the unmeasured gulfs dividing them I dwell, and ever compass thee around, One spirit, effluence, operation, force. i8o THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. [Scene II. One dark, relentless heart, whose beats began With first of things, and shall be felt in all Forever ! Men may fear me, but they love : They seek the darkness rather than the light ; And all thine atoms, or in them or space, Are swallowed up in mine. Thus am I throned In sole omnipotence of Evil. JOVE. Hark ! I hear a noise of mighty multitudes. Confused, and crying from the fields of Earth, And in their cries I hear your names and mine. We found the Gods above our ancient idols, And worshipped them with voice and deed and duty. Each was unquestioned, each august and awful. And, knowing him, we rested in the knowledge. We grew in power, we builded towns and temples ; We wrought the wider fabric of the nations, We made the forces which we feared obey us. Lo ! now, their spirits, as our own in battle, Stand face to face : their dark or shining legions Meet in our souls, and tear us and bewilder. We yield to law, we seek eternal Justice, We love the Good, yet we accept the Evil, We love our lives, we chng to joy and beauty. We render penitence, we pray for pardon, We look past death to some serene Hereafter. Which of these things of ours shall we surrender ? They were bestowed : how can they be divided ? Shall we be umpires in the high, supernal Debate of Gods, or is there One beyond them Whom we have heard, through them, in changing voices ? Scene II.] THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. i8i Then come Thou near, enlighten and console us ! Take our own shape, be guide and God, yet brother ! APOLLO. I come, your shepherd of the sunny hills In Thessaly, who from the reedy pipe Allured the hidden sweetness of your breath, And made a music of j^our empty lives. I taught ye beauty, harmony, and grace ; I lifted and ennobled ye ; I clothed Your limbs with glory and your brows with song. Nature, the hard, unfriendly mother, gave Her sweetest milk to nourish ye anew, And all her forms, as lovers or as friends. Moved in your life, and led your shining march Of ages, as a triumph ! Still I walk, Though unacknowledged, filling hungry ears With purer sound, and brightening weary eyes With visions of the beauty that may be. For Beauty is the order of the Gods, The ether breathed alone by souls uplift In aspiration, and the crown of all, Save whom dumb darkness and the bestial life Tread out of being. Reaching her, ye live. IMMANUEL. She is not Love. I know thy proud, pure face, And was content to see thy form as mine. In temples where the Truth was sought through me. In love, in meekness and in lowliness, I did my Father's will : come unto me, Ye heavy-laden, weary sons of earth, And I will give you rest. I do but speak The things He bids me, of myself am naught. Love one another : inasmuch as ye 1 82 THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. [Scene II. Shall do it to the least of these, my brothers, Ye do it unto me. Behold, I came To bring ye peace, yet also bring a sword ; For love, and dihgence in doing good, Mercy divine and holy charity, Stir up the evil that among you dwells ; But through the strife His Kingdom shall be based, Who is alone from everlasting on To everlasting : and His rule is love. MAN. One's face is fairer than the star of morning ; One's voice is sweeter than the dew of Hermon To flowers that wither : who is there beside them ? And is there need of any one above him Who brings his gifts of good and love and mercy ? We climb to nobler knowledge, finer senses, And every triumph brings diviner promise. But Life is more : our souls for other waters Were sore athirst, till He unlocked the fountain. Now let us drink ; for as a hart that panteth. Escaped from spears across the burning desert, We think to drain the brook, yet still it floweth. Scene III.] THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. 183 Scene III. A vast landscape. Sunrise. CHORUS OF SPIRITS. In the ether of stars, in the bath of the planets, In the darkest deeps of the severing spaces. The force of the Spirit is working on : And men have guessed it, have felt its glory, Have babbled its speech, and fathomed its secrets In earth and ocean and wind and flame. They have conquered the phantoms themselves cre- ated ; They have torn the masks from the gods aforetime. To find the mock of the face of Man. They sprinkle themselves with blood of atonement, Persuade their souls to believe and be quiet. Yet restlessly reach for the Wisdom beyond. The years are as breath, and as sands the ages ; 'Mid a myriad suns the world is a darkness ; The Deities die when their work is done. But the mantle of One is wide to enfold us. The heart of One is a Father's to love us, The Spirit of One shall lift us and hold ! ODIN, BAAL, PERUN, AND MANITO. We are but shadows now, we know full well, Yet life is sweet, even that which shadows lead In mist, and storm, and twilights of the world. We have acknowledged Thee, the High, Unknown, s84 THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. [Scene III. Who sitt'st above our passions : we depend On Thee, it seems, and would behold Thy face, If haply blood of Thine make grand our limbs, As ours the strong, heroic shapes of men. We give the strength which meets and overcomes ; The amorous ardor which renews the world ; The fierceness which is needful as the love, And those indulgences to come, which lure Where judgment threatens : shall we live or die ? A VOICE FROM SPACE. I have allowed ye. On my moveless throne I hear, and, that I speak, suspend the work Of effortless creation. If Thou be The primal One, whose being only is Forever everywhere, I work for Thee, Thine eldest force, who fashioned Indra's peak, And from my hand the holy Ganges stream Poured as a long libation, — bade the gods Be hatched in beasts and from the lotus-flower, And with the infant races sport, until These prayed to find me, and I was revealed. I saw my symbols stolen, saw my laws Transferred to other faiths, myself unknown By those who yet obeyed me and adored : But I am calm : no seed of meanest life Hath missed its place in falling from my hand, Nor any mesh in all my boundless net Of woven law hath felt unequal strain. A VOICE FROM SPACE. Thou doest the work I set, yet nam'st thyself : have no name. Scene III.] THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. 185 ORMUZD. Thou hast ! — thy name is Good. I surely know Thee, since I sprang from Thee. For Good is wisdom, Good is beauty, Good Is even the root below the flower of Love. I am not idle, though my nature sole Exists therein, but like the active sun. My sacred orb, with silent energy Pervade the universe. A VOICE FROM SPACE. Good came from me. AHRIMAN. Whence, then, came I ? Born of the selfsame womb, If born, or separated even with him, From earliest stuff of Gods ! I work as well In mine own way : I am the thing I seem, And could not be, except in strife with him. He may revile me, but I owe him much : His children serve me in their ignorance, And round his brightest altars curls the smoke I breathe below them. If he came from Thee, I came beside him and with him return. A VOICE FROM SPACE. And Evil I permitted. JOVE. In my youth I called Thee Fate, and trembled at Thy name. I felt Thou wast, but knew not what Thou wast. Thou gav'st me fair dominions, happy realms, Hills that inspired, and wandering seas that sang, And noble forms of men that worshipped me. l86 THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. [Scene III. I taught them Order, Art, Humanity, And left them — when the time foretold had found All these in ruin — nearer to Thy feet. I bate no privilege of ancient pride ; If Thou art what I dream, it came from Thee ; And if I launched the thunder, loosed the leash Of War and Pestilence, it was Thy wilh I do not crouch, for Thou hast made me strong. A VOICE FROM SPACE. Thou wast my servant. ELOHIM. Art thou not ourselves ? We spread with Thee the waters of the deep, We hung with Thee the curtains of the heavens. And choired the morning stars ; we gave Thy law In thunder, and Thy mercy as the dew ; We banished other Gods from out Thy house. And smote the heathen : we translated Thee In human speech to men, and sealed with them Thy Covenant ; o'er Thy chosen seed we watched In war, and exile, and captivity. And the strange lusts that visited their kings. We mean to rule forever, and we claim Obedience of men and rival Gods. If what we hear be but our echoed voice. Then we have spoken. Who besides should speak From the unfathomed silence of the stars ? We walk the world and hear our names implored, Behold our power increase, our kingdom come. A VOICE FROM SPACE. Ye I commissioned. Scene III.] THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. 187 APOLLO. I but claimed a place Among the serving Gods, yet lords of men. Not mine to call existence from the void, Or give reward, save what in Beauty's self Is given forever : mine the simpler task To build One bridge that reaches to the sky, To teach one truth that brings eternal joy. And from the imperfect world the promise wrest Of one perfection. If than this Man needs A broader hope, a loftier longing, yet This must he have ; bereft of it, he dies. He cannot feed on cold ascetic dreams, And mutilate the beauty of the world For something far and shapeless : he must give His eyes the form of what in him aspires. His ears the sound of that diviner speech He pines to speak, his soul the proud content Of having touched the skirts of perfect things. This much in him I foster, marring not Thy high design, but lending it a grace Which he, insane to grasp Thee, might forget. If Thou, as needs Thou must, be harmony, The soft concordance of my Delphic lute Is heard between Thy thunders, and I keep My gentle state in dear humanity. A VOICE FROM SPACE. Live ! Beauty is of me. IMMANUEL. And thou art chief A God of Love ! Who hath seen me hath seen The Father. I was sent from Thee to teach Thy Truth to souls anhungered; if I left 1 88 THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. [Scene III. Untaught the things of less account, I spake No prohibition. Men have used my name To mortify their bodies, maim their Hves, And plant with sorrow where I came to sow The seeds of joy, as in that pleasant land. In Cana's mansion and the home of Nain. I know that I am Thine : my heart leaps up To hear Thee, and I lean, as doth a child, Upon Thy bosom. I have done Thy will, My Father, who hast not forsaken me. Accept my work, and bless me : Thou art Love ! A VOICE FROM SPACE. Yea, most am Love ! IMMANUEL. Then am I near to Thee ! A VOICE FROM SPACE. Thou art my one begotten Son, in whom I am well pleased. MAN. We hearken to the words We cannot understand. If we look up Beyond the shining form wherein Thy Love Made hohest revelation, we must shade Our eyes beneath the broadening wing of Doubt, To save us from Thy splendor. All we learn From delving in the marrow of the Earth, From scattering thought among the timeless stars, From slow-deciphered hieroglyphs of power In chemic forces, planetary paths, Or primal cells whence all Thy worlds are born, But lifts Thee higher, seats Thee more august, Scene III.] THE MASQUE OF THE GODS. 189 Till Thou art grown so vast and wonderful, We dare not name Thee, scarce dare pray to Thee. Yet what Thou art Thyself hast taught us : Thou Didst plant the ladders which we seek to climb, Didst satisfy the heart, yet leave the brain To work its own new miracles, and read Thy thoughts, and stretch its agonizing hands To grasp Thee. Chide us not : be patient : we Are children still, we were mistaken oft, Yet we believe that in some riper time Thy perfect Truth shall come. A VOICE FROM SPACE. Wait ! Ye shall know. FINIS. PRINCE DEUKALION: A LYRICAL DRAMA. Bestimmt, Erleuchtetes zu sehen, nicht das Licht. Goethe. If thou canst not ascend These steps, die on that marble where thou art! Keats. LIBRARY of CONGRESS Two Copies Received OCT 17 1906 ^Cepyrlght Entry CU^' 4E^XXc.,N9. COPY B, CONTENTS. -♦- ACT I.— A. D. 300. SCENE PAGE I. Shepherd, Nymphs and Voices . . .197 II. G^A AND Eros 202 III. Prince Deukalion and Pyrrha . . . 207 IV. Prince Deukalion, Pyrrha, Chorus of Ghosts and Charon 211 V. Prince Deukalion, Pyrrha, Prometheus, Epi- metheus 216 VI. Prince Deukalion, Pyrrha, Prometheus, Pandora, Epimetheus and Eos . . . 221 ACT IL — A. D. 1300. I. Prince Deukalion, The Youth, Shepherd AND Shepherdess 227 II. Medusa, Prince Deukalion, Pyrrha, Chorus AND Anti-Chorus 232 III. Pyrrha, Prince Deukalion, Prometheus and Eos .... .... 238 IV. Medusa, the Nine Muses, the Poet and the Artist 245 V. Epimetheus, Urania, Spirits of the Wind, the Snow, and the Stream, Prince Deu- kalion, Pyrrha, Echoes .... 252 ACT III. — A. D. 18—. I. G^A, Nymphs, Eros, Poet 260 II. Prince Deukalion, Pyrrha, Man, Woman 266 13 194 CONTENTS. SCENE PACK III. Calchas, Prince Deukalion, Pyrrha, Prome- theus AND Chant 272 IV. " The Vision of Prince Deukalion " . . 279 V, Epimetheus, Urania 284 VI. Prince Deukalion, Pyrrha, Prometheus, Epi- metheus AND Echoes .... 2S7 ACT IV. — A. D. ? I. Agathon 294 II. Urania, Agathon, Prince Deukalion . . 297 III. Prometheus, Buddha, Medusa, Calchas, Aga- thon, Prince Deukalion and Pyrrha 302 IV. Prometheus, Pandora, Epimetheus, Prince Deukalion, Pyrrha, Shepherd, Shepherd- ess AND Chorus of Builders . . . 309 V. Spirits of Dawn, Eos, G^a, Pyrrha, Prince Deukalion, Chorus of Men and Women AND Prometheus 315 PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. Eos, Goddess of the Dawn. G^A, Goddess of the Earth. Eros. Prometheus. Epimetheus. Pandora. Prince Deukalion. Pyrrha. Agathon. Medusa. Calchas {High-Priest). Buddha. Spirits of Dawn. Nymphs. Voices. Chorus of Ghosts. Charon. Angels. Spirits. The Nine Muses. Urania. Spirit of the Wind. Spirit of the Snow. Spirit of the Stream. Echoes. The Youth {Poet). The Artist. Poet {Act III.). Shepherd {Man). Shepherdess {Woman). Medieval Chorus. Medieval Anti-Chorus. Chorus of Builders. Four Messengers. PRINCE DEUKALION. ACT I. Scene I. A plain, sloping from high mountains towards the sea. At the bases of the niountai7is lofty vaulted entrances of caverns. A ruined temple^ on a rocky height. A Shepherd, asleep in the shadow of a chwip of lattrels : the flock scattered over the plain. SHEPHERD [awaking). HAVE I outslept the thunder ? Has the storm Broken and rolled away ? That leaden weight Which pressed mine eyelids to reluctant sleep Falls off : I wake ; yet see not anything As I beheld it. Yonder hang the clouds, Huge, weary masses, leaning on the hills ; But here, where star-wort grew and hyacinth, And bees were busy at the bells of thyme. Stare flinty shards ; and mine unsandal'd feet Bleed as I press them : who hath wrought the change ? The plain, the sea, the mountains, are the same ; And there, aloft, Demeter's pillared house, — What ! — roofless, now ? Are she and Jove at strife ? And, see ! — this altar to the friendly nymphs Of field and flock, the holy ones who lift 198 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act I. A poor man's prayer so high the Gods may hear, — Shivered ? — Hath thunder, then, a double bolt? They said some war of Titans was renewed, But such should not concern us, humble men Who give our dues of doves and yeanling lambs And mountain honey. Let the priests in charge, Who weigh their service with our ignorance. Resolve the feud ! — 't is they are answerable. Not we; and if impatient Gods make woe, We should not suffer ! Hark ! — what strain is that, Floating about the copses and the slopes As in old days, when earth and summer sang ? Too sad to come from their invisible tongues That moved all things to joy ; but I will hear. NYMPHS. We came when you called us, we linked our dainty being With the mystery of beauty, in all things fair and brief ; But only he hath seen us, who was happy in the seeing. And he hath heard, who listened in the gladness of belief. As a frost that creeps, ere the winds of winter whistle, And odors die in blossoms that are chilly to the core. Your doubt hath sent before it the sign of our dis- missal ; We pass, ere ye speak it ; we go, and come no more ! SHEPHERD. If blight they threaten, 't is already here ; Yet still, methinks, the sweet and wholesome grass Will sometime spring, and softer rains wash white Scene I.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 199 My wethers' fleeces. We, Earth's pensioners, Expect less bounty when her store is scant ; But while her life, though changed from what it was, Feeds on the sunshine, we shall also live. VOICES [from tindergrotmd). We won, through martyrdom, the power to aid ;- We met the anguish and were not afraid ; Like One, we bore for you the penal pain. Behold, your life is but a culprit's chance To rise, renewed, from out its closing trance ; And, save its loss, there is not any gain ! SHEPHERD. What tongues austere are these, that offer help Of loving hves ? — that promise final good, Greater than gave the Gods, so theirs be lost ? Sad is their message, yet its sense allures. And large the promise, though it leaves us bare. I would I knew the secret ; but, instead, I shudder with a strange, voluptuous awe, As when the Pythia spake : 't is doom disguised, — Choice offered us when term of choice is past. And we, obedient unto them that choose, Are made amenable ! Hark, — once again ! NYMPHS. Our service hath ceased for you. Shepherds ! We fade from your days and your dreams, With the grace that was lithe as a leopard's, The joy that was swift as a stream's ! To the musical reeds, and the grasses ; To the forest, the copse, and the dell ; To the mist, and the rainbow that passes ; The vine, and the goblet, — farewell ! 200 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act I. Go, drink from the fountains that flow not ! — Our songs and our whispers are dumb : But the thing ye are doing ye know not, Nor dream of the thing that shall come ! VOICES. Flame hath not melted, nor did earthquake rend The dungeons where we waited for The End, Which coming not, we issue forth to power. We quench vain joy with shadows of the grave ; We smite your lovely wantonness, to save ; We hang Eternity on Life's weak hour ! NYMPHS. We wait in the breezes, We hide in the vapors, And linger in echoes, Awaiting recall. VOICES. The word is spoken, let the judgment fall ! NYMPHS. The heart of the lover, The strings of the psalter, The shapes in the marble Our passing deplore : VOICES. Truth comes, and vanity shall be no more ! NYMPHS. Not wholly we vanish ; The souls of the children, The faith of the poets Shall seek us, and find. Scene I.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 201 VOICES. Dead are the things the world has left behind. NYMPHS. Lost beauty shall haunt you With tender remorses ; And out of its exile The passion return ! VOICES. The flame shall purify, the fire shall burn ! NYMPHS. Lift from the rivers Your silver sandals, From mists of the mountains Your floating veils ! — From musky vineyard, And copse of laurel, The ears that listened For lovers' tales ! Let olives ripen And die, untended ; Leave oak and poplar, And homeless pine ! Take shell and trumpet From swell of surges. And feet that glisten From restful brine ! As the bee when twilight Has closed the bell, — As love from the bosom When doubts compel, We go : farewell ! 202 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act I. SHEPHERD. The strains dissolve into the hollow air, Yet something stays, — a sense of distant woe, As now, this hour, while the green lizards glide Across the sun-warmed stones, and yonder bird Prinks with deliberate Ijill his ruffled plumes, Far off, in other lands, an earthquake heaved The high-towered cities, and a darkness fell From twisted clouds that ruin as they pass. But, lo ! — who rises yonder ? — as from sleep Rising, slow movements of a sluggish grace, That speak her gentle, though a Titaness, And strong, though troubled is her breadth of brow, And eyes of strange, divine obscurity. She sees me not : I am too mean for sight Of such a goddess ; yet, methinks, the milk Of those large breasts might feed me into that Which once I dreamed I should be, — lord, not slave ! Scene II. The Same. GmK. I travail for my children. Babe, or youth. Or man attempered unto utmost life. The mother's care still follows, grows no less. The swift impending change scarce other is Than what my sons have borne erewhile, and thriven. As the thin blood of boyhood, while it takes The ripening power of increase in its turn. Distrusts itself, half fears its own rich force. So, now, it may be. Yet — I change with Man, Scene II.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 203 Mother not more than partner of his fate. Ere he was born I dreamed that he might be, And through long ages of imperfect life Waited for him. Then, vexed with monstrous shapes That spawned and wallowed in primeval ooze, I lay supine and slept, or seemed to sleep ; And dreamed, or waking felt as in a dream Some touch of hands, some soft, delivering help, — And he was there ! His faint new voice I heard ; His e3'e that met the sun, his upright tread, Thenceforth were mine ! And with him came the palm, The oak, the rose, the swan, the nightingale : The barren bough hung apples to the sun : Dry stalks made harvest : breezes in the woods Then first found music, and the turbid sea First rolled a crystal breaker to the shore. His foot was on the mountains, and the wave Upheld him : over all things huge and coarse There came the breathing of a regal sway. Which bent them into beauty. Order new Followed the march of new necessity. And what was useless, or unclaimed before. Took value from the seizure of his hands. Ah me, in those old days how near and fond Was he, how frank in fashion or in fear His thoughtless adolescence ! To my life The birth-cord still unsevered held his own : He took my comforts, seeking none beyond, And crept for shelter to my shielding arms. But now — mistrust, and shame of aid outgrown, And bitter enmity that springs from shame, And faith perverse in opposite of faith. Have made him froward. I am forced to seem She-wolf or pantheress, a savage dam, 2 04 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act I. And lose the eager mouth that sought my dugs, Until its native thirst returns ; but he, — Sleep-walking in the senses once so keen, With eyes uplifted to some distant crown. That, while it burns, makes other glory dust, — How long shall he thus wander ? — and how bear The lack of all-sustaining loveliness ? Shall fairest sights and sweetest sounds be dim. And out of movement die the rhythm of joy. And beauteous passion lose its power to warm ? — All freedom, exultation, and delight That lifted him, all energies and high desires That bore him forth as blow the fourfold winds, Be lashed and goaded on a single path, One iron chariot draw ? Lo ! here, the Rose ; The woman-flower he could not choose but love. Shall he forget it ? Shall he turn from breath Distilled of bhss and bountiful bright hours. To taste the incense rank in censers burned, Which seems to mask some odor of decay ? [^A hud on the rose-tree bursts open : Eros appears.) EROS. Not yet am I barred in Hades, Though a word unknown hath hurled The Olympian lords and ladies To wail in the nether world ! Let Proteus shift in ocean From shape to shape that eludes : I am one, as the heart's devotion. Yet many, as lovers' moods ! GiEAc Blithe, tricksome spirit ! Art thou left alone, Scene II.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 205 Of Gods and all their intermediate kin The sweet survivor ? Yet a single seed, When soil and seasons lend their alchemy, May clothe a barren continent in green. EROS. Was I born, that I should die ? Stars that fringe the outer sky Know me : yonder sun were dim, Save my torch enkindled him. Then, when first the primal pair Found me in the twilight air, I was older than thy day, Yet to them as young as they. All decrees of Fate I spurn ; Banishment is my return ; Hate and Force purvey for me. Death is shining victory ! GiEA. Thou art the same, — child of the highest Gods, Whatever shape they wear, and child of mine ! Reclaim thy heritage ! — I give to thee Maytime, and music, and all odorous herbs, The whispers of the woodlands and the waves The dewy lustre of acquainted eyes. The thrill of meeting hands, and ah ! at last Of lips that cannot hold themselves apart. Save life, as beauty, perish! Take all these, And whatsoever else may minister To sweet, insidious influences and arts Which are thy being, — ply the treachery That into blessing soon forgives itself ; Print thy soft iris on white wings of prayer ; Strike dangerous delight through sacrifice ; 2o6 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act I. And interpenetrate the sterner faith With finest essence of the thing it spurns 1 EROS. With the blind desires and motions The innocent child that guide ; With girlhood's shy avoidance And boyhood's bashful pride ; With the arts that are simplest nature, And the nature that hides in art, When the voice and the cheeks bear witness, And the eye confesses the heart ; With the fond mistrust, and the frenzy, That falters, or sweeps above, When the key to delight in beauty Is held by the hands of love ; With the lore of the world's renewal In seed or in guarded bud ; With the plunge of the sportive dolphin, And the heat of the panther's blood, — The spells of my sway are woven, The flame of my being fed, And I breathe in a bright existence. Though the eldest Gods are dead ! For Love, in the ashes of Empire And the dust of Faith, is born ; And the rose of a kiss shall blossom. When blight has withered the corn ! [Eros disappears. Needless to give ! — 'tis he already owns. Before the uncounted cycles of the Past He was, or I — even I — had caught no life From the wide-floating elements ! Go, then, Scene III.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 207 Thoii beautiful, bright secret of all suns, All planets, and all unimaginable forms Upon them sown ! Death and decay are things That dissipate beneath thy radiant eye: So thou but live, all else shall come with thee, Now lost, or unto man's indifference So seeming ; yet it hides in wilful sport, And million-voiced laughter of the waves And winds, and million wandering smiles of sun Forever shall betray it, and assure Thy coming triumph ! I am calm at heart Now that I know thou livest : was I mad. To fear, one moment, thou couldst ever die ? Scene III A valley, at the base of the mottntains. On the left the en- trance to a cavern. PRINCE DEUKALION. Where art thou, Pyrrha ? PYRRHA [coming forward). Dost thou call, at last ? Awaiting the awakening of thy thought, Mine own went wandering. PRINCE DEUKALION. Whither ? PYRRHA. Nay, why ask ? What other moods have heretofore been ours Than hope by doubt o'ershadowed, or else doubt Made bearable by transient gleams of hope ? But now — 2o8 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act 1. PRINCE DEUKALION. Now, courage ! — such as that we felt, When they who made us and forefixed our fate, The Titans, fell ! We saw the thunder-blows Given and taken, saw the ruined world Lie panting after fiercest throes endured, Till milder Gods brought knowledge, peace, and power » If, grown familiar, these have forfeited Their ancient honor, or their term is past, We need not question ; they consent to see Themselves in sacred marble rebaptized. New meanings, borrowed from an alien race. Bestowed on their Olympian emblems, — yea, The incense burned to beauty, grace and joy Made dark and heavy by atoning pain And crowned repentance ! Yet, His law is good Who now shall rale ; for they we lose withheld The strength of human hands from human throats. Forced them to join, and overcome, and build, — Create, where they destroyed ; but He compels That strength to help, and makes it slave of Love. Thus, from the apathy of faith outworn Rises a haughty life, that soon shall spurn The mould it grew from. I foresee new strife, Mistaken hopes, unnecessary pangs. And yet — I wait. PYRRHA. And I must wait with thee. Dost thou recall — how long ago it seems ! — Mine ancient glory ? Nearest, then, I stood : Our hands — ah, why not also lips ? — had met, And o'er thy head I saw the hovering crown Take substance from the air, and flash on me A glow I hoped was beauty, knew was love ! Scene III.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 209 PRINCE DEUKALION. 'T was when that ether, where the Ages still . Unwrinkled sit, touched by no dread of time, Was ours to breathe, earth's only sky serene. Why were we banished ? Still that heritage Exists : beyond the dark-blue, dimpled sea Lie sands and palms, the Nile's wide wealth of corn, And soaring pylons, granite roofs upheld By old Osirid columns : there the sun Sheds broader peace in all his aged beams, And hoary splendor on uncrumbled stone. There still the star Canopus sends the dew, Though sound of sistrum in the dusky halls Has ceased, and Memnon lost his morning song. Well thou rememberest, Pyrrha ! — that which was, Once in the Past, flies forward, like a string Sharp struck, and straightway in the Future plants Its brighter phantasm : more than was, shall be ! PYRRHA. My heart is lifted, and my spirit feeds Upon thy words. PRINCE DEUKALION. Pure, patient, brave, thou art ; But they who set thee back, despoiled thy head Of separate honor, and postponed my right Through thine refused, were their progenitors Whose kingdom cometh. Thee they may restore To equal freedom to renounce and bear, — Like martyrdom : lend me thy finer sense To see beyond ! PYRRHA. So much the Titans gave I 14 2IO PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act I. Yet that, reclaimed, is one fulfilment more. Pain is to me what conflict is to thee, — A joy, when born of large necessity. What musest thou ? I see thine eyes' clear light Recede within their depths, as in a lake Its surface-azure when the cloud sails o'er. PRINCE DEUKALION. Erelong some spasm of the vexed Earth shall close This cavern's mouth, the last, sole entrance left To Hades : I would once more see the face And hear the counsel of my Titan sire, Prometheus, where he sits in sunless air. Not suffering, haply, neither glad. And thou, Heiress of gifts interpreted as woe. Since the divinest fate wears evil face To mortals, let thy steps companion mine ! Terrors shalt thou behold, and threatening forms, And with the stress of stern, eternal words Thy brain may falter : canst thou hear the doom Which sifts the ages as the fingers sand. And plays with hope, and patience, and despair, Like beads upon a string, — inexorable, Fixed from the first ? PYRRHA. So I be near to thee. PRINCE DEUKALION. Touch, then, my hand ! It is permitted us To feel each other's blood, but nothing more, Till that far day when our betrothal-kiss Asserts the victory sure, the empire won ! \^They pass into the cavern Scene IV.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 211 Scene IV. A spacious, arched cavern, opening upon a shadowy, colorless landscape. Enter Prince Deukalion, leading Pyrrha. CHORUS OF GHOSTS. Away ! Ashes that once were fires, Darkness that once was day, Dead passions, dead desires. Alone can enter here 1 In rest there is no strife, And memory is not life : We neither hope nor fear. Like some forgotten star. What first we were, we are. The Past is adamant : The Future will not grant That, which in all its range We pray for — Change PRINCE DEUKALION. You found the thing you sought : what fashioned else These sunless realms ? If change may verily come Even to spirits, teach your dim desire A form whereby to know itself, and seek ! CHORUS OF GHOSTS. Retreat ! Retreat, Unwelcome feet ! Whom doth not blast The horror of his Past, Who dares to see Himself in memory, 212 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act I. And thus reclaim The inevitable shame, Him only suffer we ! PRINCE DEUKALION. Prepare your test ! PYRRHA. What thing is here designed ? Thy face is pale, despite the firm-set lips, And level glance of thine unshrinking eyes : No passing pain awaits thee. PRINCE DEUKALION. Nay, but power That grows from pain ! Hear'st thou the whistlinsj rush Of many wings that part the heavy air, And bat-like cries, thin, impotent of sound, That now betray the disconcerted ghosts Huddling before us to the river-bank ? PYRRHA. If I behold these things I seem to see, I know not : yonder lies a dreary marsh. Such as at ebb for many a league deforms A river's narrowing mouth ; gray sedges wave, Unwhispering ever, o'er the sHmy flats. Beyond which glooms the semblance of a shore. But who is this, so haggard, limp and old. Approaching us ? As with uncertain joints He walks, still held erect by senile wrath. That shoots dull gleams from sleep-desiring eyes, Were sleep permitted here. Scene IV.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 213 PRINCE DEUKALION. 'T is surely he, The ancient ferryman of Hades ! CHARON. Ay, Nor vanquished yet ! Where wait the ghosts of men ? Hath Death been dispossessed ? The upper world With tears and due libations feeds no more My sullen river : muddy shallows grow From either side, and trespass on my right, Till soon dishonest ghosts may wade across. Yet, wherefore do I question ? You, I guess, Intend no answer, and eternal Fate Hath left for you one power of entrance still. You seek not Lethe : so much say your eyes. Here lies the other pool, as charged with light As that with darkness, — awful Memory, More dread to bear than black Forgetfulness : Look, or go hence ! PRINCE DEUKALION. I look. PYRRHA. And I with thee. PRINCE DEUKALION. Forbear ! The knowledge must be mine alone. — Within the moveless crystal depths, far down, The rings of ages widen and dissolve The while I gaze : distinct, abominable, I see ourselves, before the Titans were ; I see the bestial base, unpurified. Its hideous features smeared with filth and blood, 214 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act L Its rites unspoken, acts unspeakable, Wild savage instinct beating back the brain, Low savage greed a despot in the heart, And all that ever since mixed foul alloy With the bright metal of our dreams, — despair Should the defiant God within us fail — \He pauses. .PYRRHA. Say on, nor spare my service ! Shall I see. Thus, only, in the mirror of thy speech, The unfeatured truth ? PRINCE DEUKALION. {To Charon.) Is there aught more than this ? CHARON. Look! PRINCE DEUKALION. Nay ! — the forms grow dim ; and under all There shines a face that is, methinks, mine own ! {Lifting his head.) What flimsy pride was pierced so, heretofore ? There is no shame save what begets itself On old remorse, that keeps its cause alive. I see, nor shudder : vice outlived is dead. And feeds its purest opposite in us. No scent of mould is on the rose's leaves ; No stain of slime degrades the lotus-cup ! Slave of the Gods, thy lease's term still holds : Perform thy duty ! CHARON. Take the oars yourselves, Scene IV.] FRIxXCE DEUKALION. 215 And, to your sorrow, cross ! My purse is lean. So rarely comes an obolus : the boat Leaks, the worn handles of the ancient blades Rattle between the thole-pins. Could I push The beggar ghosts off, crowd my bark with rich, Enjoy authority, take delight in force. My limbs were suppler; but some power grows slack In the world's order. One gets old and lame. And then the Gods themselves forget their words. Do as you list : nor hinder I, nor help. [Prince Deukalion and Pyrrha enter the boat. CHORUS OF GHOSTS. They go ! Cleaving alone the stagnant flow Of our deserted river : Who thus defies the menace and the test ? Is he some hero whom the Gods invest With warrant to deliver ? Though his disdain Sharpens our slow, devouring pain, There wakes an echo in his word Of what in faded seons once we heard. That change may come again ! We wait : Uncertainty at last may bend Divine decrees, and end Our fixed monotony of fate ! 2i6 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act I. Scene V. The Elysian Fields. PYRRHA. Here can I breathe : the sight of cloudy groves And meadows of familiar asphodel ; The broader lift of this gray vault o'erhead Half-luminous, as pregnant with a sun ; The atmosphere of grand extinguished aims, Suspended hopes or foiled ambitions, — give Cheer to my soul ; for thus in death survives Something that will not die. PRINCE DEUKALION. Why, death 's a thing For who deserve it ! — We defy, and live. PYRRHA. What shapes are these, that, as we walk, float on Beside us t PRINCE DEUKALION. Sovereign souls, immortal lives. That, as a spring through myriad secret veins Collects the dew and rain-fall, in themselves Unite all scattered longings of the race, All formless hope and high necessity, Distilled through earth to be divinely clear And flow forever ! As in them we live, So they in us : he, with the bended brow And parted waves of his luxuriant hair, Shall yield his shadowy forehead to the thorn And take a holier name : he, further off, Scene V.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 217 Within whose dim, dark eyes lie dreams of truth He never reached, aspires in later souls ; And yonder king who love and lordship gave To find Humanity, and grew a God, Now first is regal. These are not the ghosts Whom irreversible fiat fetters here : They range the universe. PYRRHA. Can they give help ? PRINCE DEUKALION. Yea ! Faith in glorious possibilities At last secures them. PYRRHA. See ! — our path ascends, And near us, pedestal'd above the meads, Towers a rocky platform, wide and vast, Where dim Titanic forms, grouped statue-wise. Express so much of old expectancy As saves them from despair. PRINCE DEUKALION. I see those shapes. And out of long oblivion memory breaks To tell me who they are. Pass we the first, Whose haggard brows and ignorant dull eyes No promise hold : but yonder, on the rise. Who leans with folded arms against the stone ? Whose forehead, trenched with subjugated pain, Still keeps the whiteness of a rising star ? Whose lips, that lock the wisdom of the world, Have sweetness left for love ? Whose huge bare limbs 2i8 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act L Affright not, as their force were sheathed in guile, But rest, in absence of the helping deed ? PYRRHA. Is he thy sire ? PRINCE DEUKALION. Prometheus, Titan still ! Seem not reliant, — loose thy clinging hand, And call the proudest blood that woman owns To prop thine equal claim ! PROMETHEUS [rising). Come ye with prayers, Depart ! PRINCE DEUKALION. Nay, neither supphant nor subdued ! If no celestial ichor in thy veins Throbs warm as blood, — no instinct in thy heart Recalls the primal purpose, and renews, — No will rekindles, not to war with fate. But be, thyself, the delegate of fate, — Then are we not thy children ! PROMETHEUS. Ye are mine. I know ye now : will may defiance seem, Confronted with the force that would destroy. Thence was I punished ; but I set in Man Immortal seeds of pure activities, By mine atonement freed, to burst and bloom In distant, proud fulfilment. When that day Has dawned on earth, I need no messenger : My pilfered strength shall of itself return, And all I purposed be, ere I command. Scene V.] PRINCE DEUKALION, 219 PRINCE DEUKALION. I came to question, but thy ready words Have almost answered. PROMETHEUS. Ask, and I will speak ! PRINCE DEUKALION. Fore-knowledge, eager to fulfil itself, And too impatient of reverse that foiled. Provoked thy torture : how shall speech of mine Shadow the grandeur of thine early aim. Living in us ? Thou knowest, without my words. But change like this, that now hath fallen on earth, Came never : never such consoling love Made overthrow, such promise with one hand Gave royally, the other taking back. These things confuse my mind ; but all, to thee, — Both this and what hereafter comes, — is known. Say, only, shall thy meditated plans, As in my soul they stir, and hold me up O'er all discouragement of time and change, Prevail at last t PROMETHEUS. If what I planned could fail, Were I thy sire ? He who defied the Gods Dares Time and Change, and all reverse of Fate. I willed what I foresaw : because I willed, What I foresaw shall be ! PRINCE DEUKALION. I seek no more. PROMETHEUS. But will excludes not love. Since thou, adrift, 2 20 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act I. And that immortal woman by thy side, Floated above submerged barbarity To anchor, weary, on the cloven mount, Thou wast my representative. My work Is wrought in thee ; thy mother's deed, in her. Shall yet be justified. Beyond what hope Comes to thy blood through sense of kin with mine, Take one new comfort — Epimetheus lives ! Though here, beneath the shadow of the crags, He seems to slumber, head on nerveless knees. His life increases ; oldest at his birth, The ages heaped behind him shake the snow From hoary locks, and slowly give him youth. 'Tis he shall be thy helper : Brother, rise ! EPIMETHEUS. ( Coming forward. ) I did not sleep ; I mused. Ha ! comest thou, Deukalion ? Once I thought thee strange, distraught, But now — so many things have happened since — I think I know thee. PROMETHEUS. Soon thy work shall come ! Reversely miscreated, forward mind In thee made backward-looking, shame shall cease When midway on their paths our mighty schemes Meet, and complete each other ! Yet, my son, Deukalion, — yet one other guide I give, Eos! PRINCE DEUKALION. Eos? PYRRHA. Eos? Scene VI.] PRINCE DEUJi ALTON. 221 PROMETHEUS. What echoes these ? Who else than she, the genitrix of light, The mother of the morning ? EPIMETHEUS. Half I know. PRINCE DEUKALION. Older than thou, the stealer of the fire ! More hope in thy mysterious message lies Than certain-featured forms of prophecy. But where, when, how, shall I approach her sky, And win her favoring face ? PROMETHEUS. Come ye with me ! Scene VI. The highest verge of the rocky table-land of Hades, looking eastward. PROMETHEUS. O Goddess of the far, flushed fields of Heaven, Swiftly enthroned between the moon and sun, And swiftly passing as thy roses die, To make us love thee more ; the dewy-eyed And blossom-sandal'd opener of eyes ; Quickener of human hearts, yea, hearts of Gods, Not one so stubborn but thy smile subdues To tenderness ; in whom all light and love Are one, at whose pure lamp all rising Hours Of hope and deed and victory snatch fire For torches soon extinguished else, — appear ! 222 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act I. EPIMETHEUS. Deceived so many times, why should she dip Her shining robes in this unfriendly gloom, — Why smirch the star that on her forehead burns And breathe these vapors, when the brighter earth Forgets her ? PYRRHA. Speak not thus ! What virtue hes More in achievement than its hot desire ? To shake the drowsed indifference of men Even Gods are powerless : thy wisdom wears Sad colors of experience ; dark thou showest Against the light whereto we set our brows. — But tho2i, 'who waitest near, as one too proud Or to evade or spurn shame undeserved, — Unhappy wert thou woman, angry if A goddess, tranquil being neither, — speak PANDORA. No other words had opened patient lips. I have not made complaint, though every sin Still cheats its base possessor to transfer Its blame to me, — though she, who now my place Usurps, takes Egypt's serpent for the Gods, And eats the apple, not on Ida's hill ! The passion of the race offends its pride, So this turns back on that, and finds its source — Where, but in us ? Wilt thou accept it ? PYRRHA. No! PANDORA. There is no sign in yonder moveless mist Scene VI.] FRINCE DEUKALION. 223 That she hath heard : thine answer bids me call. — O Goddess, that from sleep and guilty dreams Sprung from the dregs of day, from weary vice And all suspended selfishness of men, Bidst one pure moment breathe upon the world, Renewing youth and beauty ere the sun Shall lighten wrinkles and thin hair, — whose heart Dreams back Tithonus and dear early love, And morning visions of unwedded girls, And sweet desires of uncorrupted men, Shy as thou art, because divinely proud, Proud as thou art, because divinely pure, Hear thou my woman's voice ! PROMETHEUS. Thine hath she heard. Faint, rosy gleams, unused to Hades, steal Forth from the sullen vapor : here no star May rise before her, nor the clover-dews Refresh her feet ; but every nightly crag And jutting foreland of invisible hills Is angered with the glory ! PANDORA. Goddess, rise ! Forgive the darkness, not of us : so much As we may see, so much may hear, reveal ! {A sound, as of trtcm^ets.) EOS [ttnseen). So far away From my high vestibule of Day, What voices call ? PROMETHEUS. Titan and human, each and all. 224 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act I. EOS. I, long withdrawn, Leave to my Hours the service of the Dawn : The Earth, henceforth, shall see Only their lower ministry. But when the race Lifts unto me a fixed, believing face, I will return ! PRINCE DEUKALION. Say, shall not I that distant glory earn ? EOS. Thou ! — thou and she, Inheritors of holy destiny ! Faith, when none believe ; Truth, when all deceive ; Freedom, when force restrains ; Courage to sunder chains ; Pride, when good is shame ; Love, when love is blame, — These shall call me in stars and flame ! Thus if your souls have wrought, Ere ye approach me, I shine unsought ! PROMETHEUS. Yea, under thee the wavering tide Of the Ages that, streamHke, wind as they ghde Shall mirror or lose the gleam, And brighten as truth or darken as dream ! EOS. If he but guard his youth, His dream shall be wondrous truth ! Scene VI.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 225 PRINCE DEUKALION. Call, command ! — I obey : When there is Dawn, there shall be Day ! PYRRHA. I feel, I love, I see ! — Faithful to him is faith in thee. EOS. Oft shall I hft the dark With fringe of brightness and starry spark ; Oft shall I seem to rise With the glory of Gods in the waiting skies ; But the Hour shall miss its place. And the shadow recede on the dial's face ! Say, are ye strong To endure the wrong That cheats the promise and mocks the trust ? PRINCE DEUKALION. I have borne, and shall bear, — because I must. PYRRHA. The end shall crown us : The Gods are just. EOS. When darkness falls. And what may come is hard to see ; When solid adamant walls Seem built against the Future that should be ; When Faith looks backward, Hope dies, Life appals, Think most of Morning, and of me ! [ The rosy glow in the sky fades away. 15 226 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act L PROMETHEUS. ( To Prince Deukalion. ) Go back to Earth, and wait ! PANDORA. {To Pyrrha.) Go : and fulfil our fate ! ACT II. Scene I. A wayside shrine, opposite a fountain. Fragments of antique saclpture — among others the head of a Miise — appear in the wall of a vineyard, bordering the road. Prince Deuka- LION, seated on a rtide stone bench, beside the foujttain. PRINCE DEUKALION. MY limbs are weary, now the hoping heart No more can lift their burden and its own. The long, long strife is over ; and the world, Half driven and half persuaded to accept, Seems languidly content. As from the gloom Of sepulchres its gentler faith arose. Austere of mien, the suffering features worn, With lips that loved denial, closed on pain, And eyes accustomed to the lift of prayer. The suns of centuries have not wholly warmed Those chilly pulses ; scarce those funeral robes Permit some colored broidery of joy ; And half the broken implements that fell From conquered hands of Knowledge and of Art Are still unwielded. From its first proud height Humanity must bend ; and so, neglecting these, — Defenceless through its ignorance renewed, — One pair of hands has grasped the common right, And one intelligence the thought of all ! Are he and she, who now approach this shrine, Other than when the conquering demigods, 2 28 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act II. Fair forms triumphant on high pedestals, Sat where yon saint, head downwards on the cross, Blends torture with distortion ? What ! Shall pain Uplift and save, spilt blood and dreadful death The fair, discrowned serenities of Gods Make impotent ? But I will hear once more The subject faith, the helplessness, the fear. (Shepherd and Shepherdess come forward and kneel before the shrine. After devotions made, tJiey rise.) SHEPHERD. To her, Our Lady, Lily, Star of the Sea, Five hundred have I told upon these beads ; To him, now, fifty : since he keeps the keys. Somewhat he may expect. Save that our saints Grow covetous of prayer as priests of pay, And sins provoke in order to absolve. Our faith were easy. shepherdess. She, if any, hears ! Her eyes are tender, and her virgin breast Fed not more lovingly the Child of God, Than mine feeds mine. shepherd. Ay, safe by chrism and cross Is he : no demons near his cradle hide ! Fast goes with feast, the penance with the gift, Like good and evil seasons : pay your dues And make them debtors ! 'T is a plain account Heaven keeps with earth, unless the stewards lie. SHEPHERDESS. And, after her, how fair the martyr-youth Scene I.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 229 W!:io sees his coming crown, and will not heed The arrow quivering in his golden side ! Lover to maids, to me a brother, son To women age-despoiled, — could once his eyes Droop downward, he would pity, love and save. SHEPHERD. Why should they make the Demons beautiful, And give our shrines to holy ugliness ? Ceciha, sitting at her organ-keys. And Barbara, queen-like with her large, calm eyes. Should be my goddesses, dared I select : One is too pure to guess men's easy sins, The other wise to pardon. As we go. Sing thou with me her mellow canticle ! \Exeunt^ singing. For the secret faith adored, Thou wast sent, by spear and sword, Out of Egypt to the Lord, Holy Barbara ! From the sun upon the sand And the stars on either hand, From the glory of the land Taken, Barbara ! By the victory over pain In the tow^er where thou wast slain, — By thy sacrifice and gain. Hear us, Barbara ! PRINCE DEUKALION. In these new names extinguished miracles Sweetly renew themselves : disparaged types, Torn from the pagan world and set in ours, Become again divine. But, stay ! who comes With brow unbound and visionary eyes, 230 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act II. And nervous hands that clutch as if they sought The antique plectrum and the chorded shell ? No wayside orison arrests his feet, Yet doth he pause ; a dream within his blood Casts old divinity on yonder Muse, And far ^gean echoes in his ears Reach the forgotten sense. THE YOUTH {to hhnself). Be it sacrilege, I must adore thee ! Yea, with hands that touch The wounds of him upon thy ruin throned, Approach thee ; none of all the hosts that save So gaze serenely over strife and time, Beholding Beauty, being beautiful ! I know not if I know thee ; yet I know What in my soul endeavors to thyself — Seeks consecration ! Vacant are thine eyes, Cold thine insulted brow and mute thy lips, Yet, Goddess, to thy menial place I bend. And give thee honor ! {He stoops and kisses the lips of the Muse.) PRINCE DEUKALION. She will give it back. THE YOUTH. {After a pause.) Who, then, art thou ? No pulse in all my soul Hast thou abashed ; but, rather, force and flame Of scarcely self-confessed ambition rise As I behold thee : Somewhat of her face Grows into broader majesty in thine, But human, as in them that must endure. Scene I.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 2-31. PRINCE DEUKALION. As tJiou must ! Out of all that was I come, Awaiting all that shall be ; they that know, Behold me ever. THE YOUTH. Let me know, behold ! Thou seem'st the shape of what I dare to dream. PRINCE DEUKALION. Do thou my work ! Through hates and battles walk ; Eat bitter bread of strangers ; lose thy land ; Give up thy gentle love, to find once more. An angel guide, the lily in her hand ; Scourge brazen power, and hunt hypocrisy To where it hides, the olden Hades lost, In tortured circles of your later Hell ; Become a voice where terror sheathes itself In music, Pity, a dove in whirlwinds tossed. Pleads out of agony, and primal Love And highest Wisdom set alike for thee The gate of Dis, the mount of Paradise ! THE YOUTH. Thou speak'st as mine own soul. PRINCE DEUKALION. The sight unsealed, Without the courage, seeing, to advance, Were but a curse ; but thou shalt be a name Which is eternal power, and from thy pangs. As by fierce heat, the chains be fused apart. Which now the tears of ages rust in vain. \Exeunt. 232 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act II. Scene II. Grand hall of a palace. Medusa, seated on a throne of gold, a triple crown ufo7t her head. Four Messengers standing near. MEDUSA. Say to the East, her gateway of return Stands open, though the hinges creak with rust : Whence came the hght her darkness dare not bide. The seven lamps of Dawn have followed us, And grown to suns, above, beneath our feet, On right hand and on left : the Day is ours. \Exit First Messenger, Say to the South, the savor of her gifts Delights us as of old : the faint, thin breath Of her ascetic watches, sprinkled blood Of self-inflicted penance, speech grown hoarse In soHtude, and visions born of brains Dishumanized, have reached us and refreshed ! \Exit Second Messenger. Say to the West, we ask no more than she Erewhile hath given, eager and whole assent ; So flashing back the surplus of her light As a strong sunset fires the unwilling East ! \Exit Third Messenger. Say to the North, the firmest hand is love's ! Except in force there is no help : in faith Abides no jealousy. We hear her threats In patience, as the frowardness of will That brooks no other, until taught by loss. Let her find freedom, and, as heretofore, Finding, be cheated ! Dreams of passing days, — Scene II.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 233 Selected truth of ages, — which shall stand ? Foreseeing penitence, we pardon now ! \Exit Fow'ih Messenger, {Sola.) Not vainly did I bide my time : for Power, A tree of cautious growth, shows stunted top Until the meshes of its wandering roots Have crept in secret to the choicest clay ; Then, shooting firm and spreading boughs abroad, Resistance withers, rival force lacks room Beneath its shade. Now, planted for all time, Kings are my vassals. Knowledge bids me fix Her bounds of liberty ! By failure taught To seem to lose for sake of later gain ; With small success, until the greater come, Content ; forgetful never of the end, What hinders me to make my single will, Sheathed in invulnerable divinity, The world's one law ? {A patt-se ; she listens.) " Growth is the law, — or death." Who spake ? Or was it some last echo blown From ended struggles ? Growth is mine to give ! Have I kept Hfe for all that in the Past Men clung to, fed the old, barbaric sense With what it loves, and paved an easy way Between two worlds to suit the halting crowd, — And am not potent ? 'T is the single hfe, Proud of small gifts, defiant in brief power. That mocks the broad authority of time. Through vice or perfect virtue comes alike Obedience ; this because it questions not. And that, from need of pardon. Having these, 234 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act II. Whatever third between them lies must soon Bend, or be crushed : I rule, while I exist ! {Enter Prince Deukalion and Pyrrha.) PRINCE DEUKALION. Hail, Caesar's heiress ! MEDUSA. Who art thou ? And why Such greeting ? PRINCE DEUKALION. I declare thee as thou art. The phantom purple underneath thy stole We see, who nursed thy young humility That now is pride, intrusted thee with strength To be the strength of men, and made thee free, That each soul's freedom find its root in thine ! How much of duty in thy power survives ? MEDUSA. I meet the needs and the desires of men. What they expect, I give ; the seed whereof. Sown ignorantly on all the fields of the Past By dead Religions, I have reaped for them. The passion and delight of sacrifice ; The comfort out of self-abasement won ; The lofty symbols, flattering lower sense Until the thing it touches seems divine ; The sweet continuance of miracle That Faith implores, to feel its Lord renewed ; The sanctioned ear, where Guilt may find release And surety of pardon, — these I give. Scene II.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 235 PRINCE DEUKALION. These only ? Treadest thou thy children down, Lest they should grow beyond thee ? Hast thou peace For Man's inimitable questions and desires ? MEDUSA. Yea ! Through obedience, peace for each and all. PRINCE DEUKALION. Art thou, then, more than man ? Through him thou art. MEDUSA. Thy speech offends : the race-begotten child Is its own father's lord. PRINCE DEUKALION. Prove lordship, then ! — Display the rights bestowed, to balance them Thou hast usurped ! Man's reverence is thine : Where bides thy reverence for Man ? The Mind That, seated in the universe of things, Needs all its heritage, — the haughty doubt. Twin-born with knowledge and of equal right, Hast thou made free ? MEDUSA. I make not error free. PRINCE DEUKALION. Art thou, alone, establisher of truth ? — Not also Man who made thee, the high God Whose will permits thee ? PYRRHA. Tell me what keen charm Thou usest, that my daughters turn to thee ? 236 PRINCE DEUKALION, [Act II. MEDUSA. Knowest thou thyself and askest ? PYRRHA. Yea, I know The strength and weakness of an instinct foiled. Sexless thyself, the secret of the sex Is lightly caught by thee ; yet, be thou skilled To weave ecstatic visions from hot blood, And call heaven down to fill Love's emptiness, There dwells a soul in woman past thy reach, A need that spurns thy tinkling toys, a claim Beyond thy lullabies of sense and sound, And sweet division of Divinity 'Twixt us and Man ! MEDUSA. Thine? — or felt by all? PRINCE DEUKALION. A myriad speak, though single be the voice ! We know thee, Gorgon ! Though the tonsured head Keep down thy sprouting snakes, the triple crown Hide their renewal, yet thy stony glance Betrays the ancient beauty, and its dread ! Why hast thou turned from that defenceless love Which equahzed all lives of men, to use The mystery of terror ? Why made stone The souls that moved before thee, save in chains ? Many thy keys of power, for thou hast learned To govern weakness : hast thou then forgot That force and freedom live ? MEDUSA. Perchance in dreams. Scene II.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 237 PRINCE DEUKALION [advancing). Before thee, here, I stand ! One Power decrees Thy life and mine : subdue me if thou canst ! My children made thee, and shall overthrow ! Take strength from all the Past, on dreams presumed Build empire, and exalt thyself, — /am, I was, I shall be ! PYRRHA. I no less ! MEDUSA. {Sinking down tipon her throne. ) Away ! CHORUS [without). As a bed where the weary sleep, As a chest where our gems we keep Art thou, our Mother ! ANTI-CHORUS. spare us ! we stand despoiled Of the goods for which we toiled : Thine is the hand that foiled ; There is none other. CHORUS. We bow, and our joys endure ; Assent, and the Future is sure ; Thy rule is highest. ANTI-CHORUS. We ask, as thy gifts decrease. Knowledge that brings us peace, Freedom, the soul's release, — But thou deniest ! 238 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act II. CHORUS. Power and Mystery thine, Surely art thou divine, To reign forever ! ANTI-CHORUS. Power, the child of Will, Dares and defies thee still : Even God shall not kill Man's endeavor ! Scene III. Night. An open grassy glade, between groves of anciejit oak and ilex trees, in a deep motmtain valley. The full orb of the moon hanging low in the west. PYRRHA [sola). In this pure shadow every rocky scar Is healed : there is no hghtest lisp of leaf : The waters, only, never lose their song. But in their swift, dissolving syllables Some soft response to mine immortal hope Endeavors for a voice. Most, unto me, » The time is holy : wherefore not to him ? Not weariness of baffled toil alone. Nor late revenges of subjected sense, Dare shape his dreams. Our primal task the same. Our purpose one, our equal bliss through each Ordained, at need I summon him to me : From toil, uniting while it seems to part ; From visions of thyself, renewed To quicken men's discouraged fortitude ; Scene III.] FRINGE DEUKALION. 239 By the twin right of one inseparate heart, Which speaking, other voice is dumb, — I bid thee come ! If thee I most may comfort, or me thou, What need to question now ? We take, even as we give, Nor, save in our unreckoned bounties, live ! Deukahon-Pyrrha, all myself in thee Compels thee unto me ! {A pazise. Prince Deukalion appears.) One moment, ere thou speakest, let me gaze ! Though some bright rosier flush of waxing life Forsake thy features, marbled by the moon. Thine eyes remain, and out of shadow send A happy splendor : am I fair to thee ? PRINCE DEUKALION. Fair and so near ! Ah, Love, couldst thou be mine, Save first myself were mine ! PYRRHA. Then I were less Than thou believest ; but my heart forgives The over-fondness of complete desire. I venture further, dream diviner end : Each lost in each, one body as one soul ; Endless renewals of surprise and bliss ; A twofold touch of life, all knowledge grown A double power through interchanging sense. As light should warm at will, and heat illume ; Two mingling tones to every passion's voice ; Twin-rays from eyes, as shines from sky and stream The single star — but that were Deity ! We will not look beyond the task designed. 240 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act II. Guide thou thy sons as I my daughters ; teach Respondent honor to heroic blood That wastes itself in self -forgetting toil; Give rank and right, and exercise of rule ; With lighter weapons of one temper arm The softer strength, and in one squadron set, To fight the world's long battle ! PRINCE DEUKALION. Force is kind, That once oppressed, and honors fade unworn. PYRRHA. A favor on a helm, — a tourney's crown ! Cross-hilted swords, in dying unction held, Crimsoning scarf or glove ! In lordly bower, Or under oriel, lute and lay espoused In adoration that purveys to sense. While lowly virtue is a jest of fools ! What she bestows, the Head whom all obey. Degrades while it exalts, a sanctity Conferred on bondage ! Why, methinks, the world Is but a monstrous wizard, weaving spells. And chanting, under breath, some siren-song, That none escape ! PRINCE DEUKALION. Pyrrha, I read thy mind ; But till the snakes upon Medusa's head Shall turn to tresses, and be loosed to dry Man's bruised feet, or Man himself shall rise And crush them under his avenging heel, We must endure to wait. PYRRHA. How Ions: ? Scene III.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 241- PRINCE DEUKALION. Not long ! There are who know me, whose allegiance went In flame aloft, to fall in thunder back. The winds of earth are wafting to and fro The ashes of great lives, that seem, to Her, The Gorgon, dust ; yet are unquenchable, Immortal fiery seeds of voice and act, Her hate increases when it would destroy. So Arnold lives, and Abelard : so he. The youth I chose, shall with consuming song Burn his broad way through ages ! Thou and I Before one onset walk ; and thou shalt change The old dependence into loftier aid. PYRRHA. Exact one space, where we may stand alone, And unassailed ! PRINCE DEUKALION. Pyrrha ! when proudest thou, Dearest and most desired ! Full-limbed and fair, Such perfect beauty in thy lifted head It cannot be defiant, such clear truth In thy large eyes, such glory as a mist Around thee — {Seizing her hands.) Let it be a dream — no more ! Thy hands, a dream, and, ere the vision end, Once let me know the lips that shall be mine ! ( Thunder. The Shadow ^Prometheus rises.) PROMETHEUS. Not yet ! Slow-paced is Fate : 16 242 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act II. All crowns come late. Couldst thou forget ? PRINCE DEUKALION. Since my proud task began, Nor more nor less than Man Am I, or may become. PROMETHEUS. Haste is not speed, And Passion mars the deed ; And Love's too-early paean soon is dumb. PYRRHA. But in thy scheme lie burning Keen sparks of yearning, — The hope that dies not, The voice that lies not. The dream, more bright at each returning ! Within thy reed of stolen lire Came down the Gods' desire, Not their chill calm of changeless being. PROMETHEUS. Whence they, foreseeing Far overthrow. Through what of them in you was planted. Made me your Expiator ! PRINCE DEUKALION. The One we know, God, Father and Creator, Himself to Man his nature granted ! Scene III.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 243 PROMETHEUS. He standeth sure. A spark of Him in all, — The form of faith that dies, The tenets that surprise, — Though faUing as ye fall. He rises as ye rise : He will endure ! {The moon sets : a faint light in the eastern shy.) PYRRHA. Father, thou readest in my heart What I implore, ere thou depart ! PROMETHEUS. Though a sudden darkness fills All the hollows of these hills, White and large, against the gray, Sparkles Phosphor's chilly ray ; And the mountain-brows are wan In the weakness of the dawn. But the little streak that lies At the bottom of the skies, As the remnant-wine in cup, Fast shall fill and mantle up. And, where yellow coldly grows, Burn to gold and flush to rose. Look, and hearken, if there be Message in the morn for thee ! [Prometheus disappears. PYRRHA. Wait, my Deukalion ! hand in hand. With quiet pulses, beating bliss in each, And the immortal faith that asks no speech, 244 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act II. Again beside me stand ! Even now the glowing tide Throws its first foam of fiery cloud, and wide The heads of mountain-peaks Feel day's fresh blood upon their pallid cheeks : Already sings aloft the awakened lark : Whether she come or fail, the Hour Brings consolation and swift power, And I am strangely happy, — Hark I Oh, hark ! EOS [tmseen). Mother of them to be, Who wast first designed in the Past To be fulfilled at the last, Why calleth thy soul to me ! PYRRHA. For the beauty my daughters wear Is made to itself a snare ! EOS. Beauty alike shall soften and save, Till Force shall feel, As the galley's keel Is lifted and sped by the lovely wave ! Under the law that holds me afar, And Fate's immutable bar, By the secret of something all divine. The heart in my bosom answers thine ! PYRRHA. Not yet uncurtain thine eyes ! I ask no more. Scene IV.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 245 EOS. The slow swift ages wait in the skies ; The ghosts are eager on Heaven's floor. What Darkness sowed the Light shall reap, And Evil that reviled, Impregnate in her drunken sleep. Shall bear a purer child ! {A pause.) PYRRHA. The roses fade, the music melts away. PRINCE DEUKALION. It is another day ! Scene IV. The Roman Capitol. Medusa, throned on a platform^ in front of an ancient church, in the walls of which are seen columns of a Doric tenzple. An immense multitude gathered together. MEDUSA. Who all possesses, dares be generous ; And here, where fell the guardian god of Rome, Touched by a babe's soft hand, — where Csesar's crown, Descending, stopped when Tibur's Sibyl spake, Foreseeing mine, — shall go indulgence forth ! No bounty equals that which Power bestows That might withhold : the senses must not starve. Lest the soul clamor. Out of what I hoard, Prepared for me, the harvest of th^ Past, Some ears may well be scattered. Who demands 1 { Two step forth : the PoET, in a red mantle, his head crowned with laiti-el ; the Painter, bearing tablet and pencils.) 246 PRINCE DEUKALIOISF. [Act II. THE POET. Faithful to all thou seemest, I have sung ; Hate is my portion, yet I sing no less. Love for Love's sake instructed first my tongue, That Truth so speak, and Justice so redress. I am a voice, and cannot more be still Than some high tree that takes the whirlwind's stress Upon the summit of a lonely hill. Be thou a wooing breeze, my song is fair ; Be thou a storm, it pierces far and shrill, And grows the spirit of the starless air: Such voices were, and such must ever be, Omnipotent as love, unforced as prayer. And poured round Life as round its isles the sea ! THE PAINTER. Faithful to all thou seemest, I have made Thy glories visible, in beauty, grace, Pain, death, and triumph ! I have set thy saints, In tints exalting life above itself. And aureoled faces caught from ecstacy, For endless worship. Vassal unto thee Therein, the separate service now outruns My vassalage ; for beauteous Art compels Her Beauty's freedom ! MEDUSA [aside). Freedom ? still the moon These children cry for. Yet for thee there pleads No crownless Muse, of them that haunt the ways Of men, and think they live : thine never lived ! But of the others whoso linger still, Long out of service, living on men's alms. Decoying pity through their old respect And fallen honor, — let them now appear ! Scene IV.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 247 {Enter The Muses.) So much of dignity in ruin lives ? Save that some faces smile, and some are calm With certainty of ancient place renewed, Ye were defiant : but your pride is fair ! It suits me well to find dependent now Such haught existences : as I grant leave, Ye may endure : in them who served the old, The newer faith rewards like loyalty. First of the triple triads those advance, Who nearest, lightest-natured, cheerfullest, Were loved of men, and made the moment speed ! EUTERPE, THALIA AND TERPSICHORE. In the woods and highlands We hnger near ; By the shores and islands, When skies are clear. Dehght of existence, In the feet that fly. Calls from the distance, Our glad reply ; But the joys are sweeter That to all belong, When the foot gives the metre. The heart the song ! No more you banish Than a cloud the sun : We only vanish To be re-won ! MEDUSA. Good service offers ! — 't is the must of youth, The hum, and surge, and sparkle of fresh blood. That must have sway : be these my vintagers, 248 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act II. So mine the later wine ! Yea, let the vats Even over-foam, 'tis sign of potent fire Stored in the vessels when my seal is set, And acrid strength of age. Without excess Were less restraint : here may indulgence lie ! Go, altarless yet worshipped, — ye are free ! MELPOMENE, POLYHYMNIA AND ERATO. When Music fails, and Joy is dumb To men's exalted need, we come. Our swords of sharper beauty cleave The spells of senses that deceive. And out of yearning, pain and power, We call, and rule, one glorious hour ! Time cannot mar nor Conquest wrong The swift, majestic march of Song, Or Faith, in man's august desire, Quench the least atom of her fire. The Thought that strays, afar, alone, We guide to speech and charm to tone : The breathless Passions pause, to see Their rage resolved to harmony ; The terror of their language wooed To music, and to law subdued ; Till all things dread, fair, fugitive, Touched by eternal Beauty, live ! MEDUSA. These are suspect : whom shall they rule — or serve ? {A pause.) THE POET. Me, if none other ! Yonder multitude Scarce knoweth what it loves, yet loves no less, — Enjoys, forgets, discards and craves again, Scene IV.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 249 Breathing high thoughts unconsciously as air : Without them, stifled ! Those are welcome now, Who bring the sportive liberty of life To the sad world's late holiday ; but these, Seldom as odors on the arid hills, Still keep their fond surprises ! MEDUSA. Under guard, Then, let the Three go forth ! They reach too high. Who plucks on tip-toe at the dangling grape Pulls down the vine : what 's Passion but revolt ? What, save the music of illicit minds, Is Poetry ? Yet purposed deeds may sleep, Lulled by the measure of their own wild dreams. The accumulate store, saved from the wrecks of Time, Frayed raiment, spangled thick with Pagan gems. Is hoarded in my vaults ; but at my will Be spent the treasure ! — easy luxury To brains that else might coin, or claim, or steal. These Three, of men surmised or coveted. May walk the world henceforth ; but, under guard ! CALLIOPE AND CLIO. Daughters, whom Zeus and she. Wide-browed Mnemosyne, Gave to the sons of earth. In wisdom, might and mirth Divinely so to lead That word is wed with deed ; And action, rhythmic grown. Stands as in sculptured stone ; And noble speech commands Service of swords and hands ; We wait, but do not ask Continuance of our task ! 250 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act II. MEDUSA. Thou, of the keen, persuasive, perfect voice, Thee I require ! — despite the haughty flash Of thine unshrinking eyes, I know the spell That rules thee : wait, I '11 feed thy tongue with fire ! Thou, too, whose stylus wanders restlessly Across the empty tablets, at my feet Sit down, and write me legends ! I have store : Pain, penitence, and power and miracle, Glory, disaster, blessing, — by one soul Informed, linking the ages in one scheme Grander than all thy fables ! Who art thou, The last, who speakest not ? Thine eyes are set Like one who sees not, thine attentive ear Hearkens to something far away. Most fair Wert thou, could Beauty, careless of delight. Wear Wisdom's mask. — What Lamia lingers here .'' [Aside.) No supplication, nay, but pity shines From those firm eyes : I cannot look them down ! Is it the coldness of the serpent blood So chills me ? Serpent ? — one of us must writhe When the end comes ; but ages lie between. URANIA. The clear lamp, colorless, Of high Truth I possess. Hope, Will and Faith may spurn, While fresh their torches burn, What, kindling now afar, Seems but a dying star : Yet, wheeling as it must, This little orb of dust Not more the Law divine Scene IV.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 251 Establishes, than mine. Shall Faith permit me ? Nay, Thine standeth in my way ! The strong, unshaken mind May shun me, but must find ; Devotion, bowed to thee. Is upward blown to me, Who over Change and Time Stand single, strong, sublime ! MEDUSA. {Rising suddenly. ) Seize the blasphemer ! What ! — from air she came, To air returns ? Or doth some shadow still Glide past yon hoary columns ? — She is gone ! Set double guards around our borders ! Bar With fire and steel her entrance ! Say, shall we Hold parley with such immemorial hate, Or, being Life to men, permit this Death Her darts to scatter ? Take, new-wrought for you. My children, chosen of the seed of Earth, The timbrels and the flutes of joy ; the pomp Of color, music, marble, gems and gold ; The tender pardon of the whispered sin ; The symbols, fitting to the weary mind An easy load, so keeping truth alive In dusky mysteries ; and, shadowing God's, The universal watchfulness of Power ! \Exii Medusa : the imdtihtde retires. THE POET. {Sohis, gazing down tipon the ruins of the Fornm.) Urania ! — not thy face that earliest wooed me. And from these ancient ashes called the fire ! 252 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act II. Thy sister, even in marble sleep, subdued me Unto free Song's untamable desire ; And he, in whom I feel myself united To deed and word and vision that inspire, — Life's homeless Prince, alone in dreams invited, — Is of thy race, and waits afar for thee. What now thou art. Spirit so spurned and slighted, I know not, nor can guess what thou shalt be : But through the light of Day thine eyes are burning, Thy feet are on the mountains and the sea ; The holy planets, going and returning. Keep thy clear paths untangled in the sky : Thy wisdom shall replace our hoodwinked yearning, Thy living laws the mysteries that die ! Scene V. A pass among the High Alps. EPIMETHEUS [sohis). Brig-ht Earth ! The echo of the fateful words : " Rise, Brother ! " scarce in twilight Hades dies, And I behold thee ! Bath of dazzling Day, Take these spent limbs, revive the old Titan blood, Sharp wine of mountain-ether ! Are yon snows Our Caucasus ? — yon melting distances The meads of Phasis, or, on Morning's side, The Caspian and the far Chorasmian plain ? Here, now, the hoary, storm-tormented peaks Stand silent : muffled thunders from below Make brief disturbance : slopes of tender turf, Untrampled by the steer, and flowers uncropped, Smile a faint summer down the hollow dells, And dark with lifeless water lies the lake. Scene V.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 253 There wheels a vulture, giving to the blue The shade or sparkle of his slanted wings, But seeking other quarry : not for me Is torture, save the pang of growing sight, And slow remembrance of the things that were. The Past, that 'mid her ruins lay a-swooned, In me recovers : pulse by pulse must I Recall my life, and word by word my speech. And age by age my knowledge ! {Enter Urania.) Also thou, Whom, eminent in Babylon, I saw, — Or wise in secrets of the Memphian stars, Or hermitess on Samos, royal guest In Academe, — endurest ? URANIA. I endure. EPIMETHEUS. Where wast thou ? URANIA. Waiting in the dust of earth And the eternal splendor of the stars. EPIMETHEUS. Has thy day dawned ? URANIA. Yea, ever is at dawn, So men but lift their eyes ! EPIMETHEUS. Where goest thou ? 254 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act II. URANIA. To them that seek me. EPIMETHEUS. Goddess, I return To draw the forfeit forces of my youth From dull, forgetful age : be thou my help ! URANIA. Learn what to ask, I give : not mine to guess The need of others. Epimetheus, thou, A yearning shadow, must create thyself And thine equality of final power. Not yet thou knowest me ; but, as I go. Speak, soft, unsilenced Spirit of the Wind, Speak, kindred Spirits of the Snow and Stream, Declare my being ! \She descends the no7'the7'n side of the pass. EPIMETHEUS. Spirits, I hsten : speak ! SPIRIT OF THE WIND. From the parched Numidian waste, From the hills of hot Fezzan, I sprang with a boundless haste That only the stars outran; Over mountain and Midland Sea That strove to tire or tame, — Over Etna and Stromboli That pierced me with smoke and flame; Till I laid, in the first desire ; That bended my pinions low, The cheek of the sylph of fire On the breast of the gnome of snow ! Scene V.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 255 For the powers of ruin, that meet In the vaults of space, must die When the spirit that stays my feet Is lord of the tender sky ! I come, to wither and slay ; I pause, to quicken and spare ; And the fate of the world I weigh In the trembhng balance of air ! SPIRIT OF THE SNOW. Homeless atoms, born in the sky, Cling to the ledges bleak and high. Fill the crevice and hide the scar, And give the sunrise a rosy star ! — Gather and grow, till a shield is won To blunt the spear of the angry sun ; Till from the heart of my chill repose Power awakens and purpose grows, — Out of my torpor the glacier goes ! Silent, certain, it crouches and crawls Down the gorges in frozen falls, And crystal turrets of azure walls, Tearing the granite from crest and dome, Huriing the torrent forth in foam ! Shepherding here my downy flock, There I shatter the ribs of rock ; Stayed by a hand and slain by a breath. There I am terror, and doom, and death ! SPIRIT OF THE STREAM. Over the mosses and grasses The white cloud passes, Silent and soft as a dream; And the earth, in her shy embraces, Conceals the traces 256 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act II. Of the secret birth of the Stream : Till my threads are braided and woven, And speed through the cloven Channels, and gather, and sink, And wind, and sparkle, and dally, With song in the valley. And shout from the terrible brink ! Then the whirl of the wind divides me, And the rainbow hides me, As I midway scatter in air ; And I bathe with endless showers The feet of the flowers. And the locks of the forest's hair : Till proudly, with waters wedded, My strength is bedded By meadow, and slope, and lea ; And the lands at last deliver Their tribute river To the universal Sea ! THE THREE SPIRITS {as Echoes). Thou, to power and empire born, Stay one arrow of the Morn ; Pluck one feather from the wing Of the wild Wind's wandering ; Breathe to air the flakes that blow From the chambers of the Snow ; Hold one speck of drifting Force From the measures of its course ; Then of these hast thou the chain Binding Man's immortal brain ! {Enter Prince Deukalion and Pyrrha.) PRINCE DEUKALION. Scene V.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 257 Makes all these mountains rhythmic, and this air ? Thou hearest, Pyrrha ? PYRRHA. Not the same that fell From fair Ionian stars, and found afar Reverberant echoes on the mounts of Song; But Earth awakens ! Hope I breathe, and power, Losing my burden of remembered ill. PRINCE DEUKALION. New realms, yet not unknown, invite us. See, How, yonder, where the piny gorges fall NorthAvard, it spreads ! — a land of tempered air, Where Beauty's enemy, rough Toil, abides, And all the joyous Muses bind their brows With straightening fillets : never Daphne shakes Her glossy head, or Pallas' hoary tree Makes moonlight on the hills. But Druid oaks, Univied, stretch their stubborn arms abroad. The firs bend black beneath their weight of snow, The gray walls gloom, fire mocks the absent sun, And Life, no more a lightsome gift of Earth, Defends itself by battle : voices there Call thee and me. PYRRHA. So but my daughters call, They shall behold me ! Under placid brows Of Nymph or Goddess, and the chaste cold breasts. And beating through the snow of perfect limbs, Is Woman ! Beauty's soft inheritress, Let her uplift her downcast lids, and see Power abnegated, dignity unworn, And equal freedom sheltering equal love. 17 258 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act II. PRINCE DEUKALION. There lies Medusa's secret : with such bait Long hath she fished ; but thou shalt dis-immure Her slaves, and give them their abohshed sex ! [Perceiving Epimetheus. Here were a face — save that the kindled eye, And April bourgeoning of sunny locks Around the seamless forehead, might deceive — I looked upon in Hades : is it thou ? EPIMETHEUS. Am I so young, then ? What Prometheus mused I know not yet. With sight indrawn he sat, And seemed to Hsten, while our starless air One weary hour hung dead, — then hoarsely spake : " Rise, Brother ! " and the thin, gray, crowding ghosts Whirled on and would have risen; but I was here ! PRINCE DEUKALION. What doest thou ? EPIMETHEUS. I listen. PRINCE DEUKALION. Unto whom ? EPIMETHEUS. The Wind, the Snow, the Stream. The mighty Muse Bearing an orb, the star upon her brow. Commanded speech of them, and passed beyond To Thrace or Scythia. PRINCE DEUKALION. She .'' — and thou ? — Again, O Pyrrha, let our severed hands unite ! Scene V.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 259 Not mine the eternal secret of the Gods To fathom, yet their purpose in my blood Beats prophecy. Go, Epimetheus, sunward, And seek thy childhood in the dust of ages ! Burrow in buried fanes : wash clean the altars, And spell forgotten words on mouldering marble. Perchance thy limbs shall fail, thy lids be weary, And thou shalt sleep ; fear not, I will awaken ! Thy brother's words fulfil : " Take one new comfort, Still Epimetheus lives ! " and now the morning Shall not withhold the unseen eyes of Eos ! \_Exit Epimetheus. PYRRHA [as they descend the pass). Arching aisles of the pine, receive us ; Dells of alder and v/illow, be fair ! Something of ancient beauty leave us, — Gift for promise, and deed for prayer ! ECHOES. In the shadows of the pine Beauty waiteth, still divine : She is thine ! PRINCE DEUKALION. Will of manhood and blood of valor, Leap as of old to the day at hand : Free of doubt and of craven pallor, Rise and ransom the captive land ! ECHOES. In the forge and in the mine Weapons for the battle shine : They are thine ! \Exeunt. ACT III. Scene I. A valley among hills covered with forests of oak and beech. Below, in the distance, a richly ctdtivated plain, a city with Gothic towers, and a broad river, dotted with the sails of vessels. POET {passing). EARTH, thou art lovely as any star, With rest so near, desire so far ! Peace from the tree-tops on the hill Sinks, and the bhssful fields are still ; While tender longing, pure of pain, Dwells in the blue of yonder plain ; And all things Fancy, faring free, May clasp or covet, come from thee ! Something of mine is everywhere, Trodden as earth or breathed as air ; Giving, with magic sure and warm, Voice to silence and soul to form. Calm to passion and speed to rest, Borrowed or lent of mine own breast By that swift spirit that mocks the eye. As over thee the unfeatured sky, Heaving its blue tides, endlessly. To planets that fail to lift the sea ! I am thy subject, yet thy king : Give me thy speech, and let me sing ! {Exit Scene I.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 261 Step to the music of the song I gave, My Poet, homeward ! Lovers, find in me Your voiceless eloquence and balm of bliss, That else were pain ! Mine ancient life revives With sweeter potency : I am a Soul Responsive unto all that stirs in Man, Transforming passion to a natural voice, From airy murmurs of the fragrant weeds To the hushed roar of pines, the tramp of waves, And bellowing of the ocean-flooded throats Of headland caverns ! Wafts of odorous air. The thousand- tinted veils of dawn and day. The changeless Forms, that from the changing Hours Take magic as a garment, stellar fire Sprinkled from hollow space, and secret tides Lifted by far, fraternal planets, — these Have grown to speech, companionship and power. Tired of the early mystery, my child Hearkens, as one at entrance of a vale Never explored, for echoes of his call ; And every lone, inviolate height returns His fainter self, become a separate voice In answer to his yearning ! Not as dam, With hungry mouth, — as goddess, with bowed heart He woos me ; or as athlete, million-armed, Summons my strength from immemorial sleep. He comes, the truant of the ages, — comes. The rash forgetter of his source ; as lord He comes, — lord, paramour and worshipper. Tyrant in brain, yet supplicant in soul. With fond compulsion and usurping love To make me his ! Still scorned are ye, fair Forms I sheltered ? Under yonder beechen shade 262 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act III. Hath human longing set ye ? Hide my streams Your beauty still, my mists your loosened hair ? NYMPHS. \^At a distance.) As the night-air pants ; As the wind-harp chants ; As the moonlight falls Over foliage walls ; As gleams forerun The smile of the sun When clouds are parting, Our beings are. We are held afar By a knowledge burning In the heart of yearning ; For the necromancy Of the fonder fancy Breathes back into air The Presences fair It would fain restore : We are Souls and Voices, But Forms no more ! Ye highly live, more awful in the spell Of unseen loveliness ! No need to quit Your dwellings, strike the dull sense into fear. And win a shallow worship : Man's clear eye Sees through the Hamadryad's bark, the veil Of scudding Oread, hears the low-breathed laugh Of Bassarid among the vine's thick leaves, And spies a daintier Syrinx in the reed. For him that loves, the downward-stooping moon Still finds a Latmos : Enna's meadows yet Scene I.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 263 Bloom, as of old, to new Persephones ; And 'twixt the sea-foam and the sparkling air Floats Aphrodite, — nobler far than first These bright existences, and yours, withdrawn . To unattainable heights of half-belief, Divine, where whole reflects the hue of Man. NYMPHS. In the upward pulse of the fountain ; On the sunny flanks of the mountain ; Where the bubble and slide of the rill Is heard when the thickets are still ; Where the light, with a flickering motion, From the last faint fringes of ocean Is sprinkled on sand and shell ; In the ferns of the bowery dell, And the gloom of the pine-wood dark, And the dew-cloud that hides the lark, The sense of Beauty shall feel us, The touch of delight reveal us ! \Exeunt. Fear not, sweet Spirits, what unflinching law. Tracking creative secrets, Man may find In my despotic atoms ! Who denies Confirms ye to the sense that bade him seek. But thou, mine Eros, through whose ministry Stole back the banished Beauty, — as, at first, The harmless tear-like trickle of a stream Through some Cyclopean dam, that softly wins A vantage, till the whole collected lake Sets its large lever to the trembling stones. And freedom follows, — thou, who, well I know, Hidest beneath this roof of summer leaves. Or where the minty meadow-breath makes cool Thine ardent brow, — appear, and speak again ! 264 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act III. EROS. I am not he whom Hermes overcame, Nor always from my brother's grosser flame Held my pure torch afar : New bows I span, new arrows fill my quiver. Those twain, mine enemies, avoid me now, Stung by the steady radiance of my brow, Nor, save in secret, mar My lordship over them that I deliver. The penance of the ages was in vain ; Old sweetness sprang from each invented pain, And Love increased by wrong, And won supremacy by sharp denial. Faith dungeoned him, till, pining for the day, He stole the wings of Faith and soared away : So grew my nature strong Through conquered violence, and pure through trial. What though new strains enrich my airy lute, The primal ecstasies are never mute ; No throb of joy is missed, Nor from the morn is any splendor taken. But nuptials of the senses now repeat The mystery of equal souls that meet, — That kiss when lips are kissed, And each in each to sovran life awaken ! Not mine to guess thy riddles, — yet I see Near manhood in thine adolescent limbs. Proud lustre in thine eyes, as, through the joy That still around thee sparkles, other joy Made prophecy, but never of an end, And mystic sweetness in thy budded hps. Scene I.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 265 Nathless, whenever my strong spouse, the sun, Stoops nearer, sets his bosom unto mine And stirs all fond, sad raptures of my frame, Then most I note thee, hurrying to and fro, Sure in thy speed ; or when he lingering leaves My bed of long dehght and summershine With last caresses, thou on every hill Dost walk in light, and breathest through the woods Voluptuous odors of the yearning year ! Exalt thyself past limits of my law, I feed thee still ! What soaring mist of mine, Sun-gilded, but the iron frost of space Shall seize ? What odor reaches to the stars ? EROS. Nor the soul of the wandering odor, nor the light of the mist, is thine. Who art rolled through day and darkness, at the will of a star divine ; Who claim'st the arrows of beauty, alone from its quiver sped, — Thou readest but half the riddle in the dust that else were dead ! Thy life is blown upon thee, as a seed from another land, And the soil, and the dew and water, are the bounty of thy hand ; But the secrets of whence and whither are mine for my children's need : I go with the flying blossom, as I came with the flying seed ! 266 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act III. Scene II. A spacious square, at the extremity of a city. Iti front, a church : on one side a cemetery, with an open gateway : on the other side a market. PYRRHA. {Lookijtg towards the gateway.) There, out of stubborn wrong and thwarted hope And helpless ignorance, Earth has onl}^ gained A heavier mould ; and she must heap her dead — As the slow ages on her bare emerge Gathered the dust for grass, the deepening sod For forests — ere our seeds of total life Find rootage, and with undecaying green Redeem this desolation ! PRINCE DEUKALION. Yea, but eyes That once behold, and souls that once believe, Lend faith and vision as a lamp its flame ! PYRRHA. Ay, Faith ! that limits where it should enlarge, — That sees one only color, where the sun Brands ever three, nor suffers even them To burn unblended ! PRINCE DEUKALION, 'T is the curse of souls That selfless aspiration looks above To find joy, knowledge, beauty, waiting there, Because abandoned here ! Scene II.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 267 PYRRHA. So mine await : They doubt me, not forbid me. PRINCE DEUKALION. Doubt but feeds The callow faith that has not tried its wings. Be comforted ! PYRRHA. Deukalion, is it time ? PRINCE DEUKALION. How often, Pyrrha, have we watched the morn Divinely flush — and fade ! How often heard Music, that, ere it bade us quite rejoice, Died, echoless ! Yet Patience cannot be, Like Love, eternal, save at times it grow To swift and poignant consciousness of self ; And something veiled from knowledge whispers now Prometheus stirs in Hades ! PYRRHA. Darest thou call ? PRINCE DEUKALION. I dare not. Epimetheus slowly clears Back through the gloom and chaos of the Past The path of his return. The widening sphere His keener vision measures now for Man Discrowns Tradition, shrinks the span of Time, And throws the primal purpose of our fate Once more upon us. Thus the Titan stands Nearer than when the frosty fetters burned His limbs on Caucasus ! 2 68 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act III. PYRRHA. And also she, Pandora, freed from long disgrace of Time, Since now her Hebrew shadow flings away The fabled evil! When the Past is purified, We shall possess the Future. PRINCE DEUKALION. Yea, our source. As from the bosom of a mountain mist. Leaps out of Nature, innocent at last ! In our beginning Destiny divine Set the accordant end ; and this, obscure, Makes that with monstrous intervention dark To human souls. Already Earth is red With ebbing life-blood of the wounded Faiths That shriek, and turn their faces to the wall, And shut their vision to the holier Heir, Who, unproclaimed, awaits his lordship. Lo! How he who governs these austerer lands Withholds his gifts, betrays his promises. Gives freedom for repentance, not for change, Nor other answer than his own, to doubt! Foe to Medusa, in his secret dreams He wears her triple crown, — allows, perforce, Urania, banished from her first abodes. Chill hospitality, an exile's fare, -^ No right of home ! What will his welcome be, When Epimetheus, hand in hand with her, Tells the new story of the human Past ? {Enter a Man and Woman.) PRINCE DEUKALION. {To the Man.) Say, dost thou know me ? Scene II.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 269 MAN. At a distance, I Have seen thee pass : I never heard thy name. PRINCE DEUKALION. I speak it not. MAN. Thou movest my desire To know, yet, save the knowledge be allowed, No less my fear : there 's brightness on thy face. As one who sees no pitfall in delight. Nor snare in science, nor the burden bears Of fallen nature. PRINCE DEUKALION. Whence is thine so dark ? Art thou in love with pain ? MAN. I cannot help Some joys of life, and guilty dreams of more : But He who suffered for my sake forbids That I rejoice too greatly. PRINCE DEUKALION. Wisdom, then, Wilt thou accept ? MAN. The wisdom of the world ? Nay : 't is vain-glory. WOMAN. {To Pyrrha.) If indeed for me Thou hast a message, as thine eyes declare, Thou knowest my need. 270 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act III. . PYRRHA. I know thine ignorance. WOMAN. I would have knowledge, were the entrance free. PYRRHA. Want forces entrance, justifies itself, As hunger crime ! But learn what Beauty is, And this, thy present weakness and reproach, Becomes immortal power! WOMAN. When I behold Thy face, I seem to own it. PYRRHA. Set thou, then. Whatever visage unto thee I wear Within the shrine of thy desires, thereon To brood in longings born of motherhood, That so thy daughters shall inherit it, And I in them be nearer ! MAN. {To the Woman.) Strange the words. Their meaning doubtful : how shall thou and I, Bearing Eternity's full weight alone, — Ours all the debt, foreclosed if other coin Save what our Faith supplies be given as due. And poor in deeds that earn it, — how shall we Accept such help ? He wears the face of Power, She that of Beauty ; what if both mislead ? Scene II.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 271 WOMAN. Her spirit touches me, as doth the sun A folded bud : if I become a flower, The hue and fragrance locked within my life Without my will are scattered. MAN. Come away! [ They pass on. PYRRHA. No more the shepherd and the shepherdess, Our children ! 'T is the wisdom of the school, So grave in childish self-sufficiency, That turns on Nature and disowns her bliss. I know not what large hope awakens now : Pandora, Titan-mother ! rise and see How speeds thy purpose ! PRINCE DEUKALION. Ere thou summon her, Or he unsummoned rises, let us seek The stately High-Priest who hath ruled so long These broadening realms, advancing nobler fate Even where he willed it not, the instrument Of that diviner mystery than his God ! The sky-cast shadow of a Hebrew Chief Fades o'er his altars ; and the aureoled Love, That later veiled the tyranny, reveals A change in its intensest splendor wrought Invisibly : if he hath eyes to bear, His ear may hearken, when Prometheus calls. 272 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act III. Scene III. The interior of a spacious church. In the chancel a lofty altar, on the front panel whereof is carved a I'ayed triangle : on the top of the altar rests the Ark of the Cove7iant, above which towers a Cross. Calchas, High- Fittest, stands upon a raised platform before the altar., clad in an ephod of gold, blue, purple and scarlet, zt/ith mitre, girdle and breast-plate of twelve stones, as described in Exodus xxxix. PRINCE Deukalion and Pyrrha in the nave. PYRRHA. Still old the symbols ! — and the spirit looks Backward to whence they came. PRINCE DEUKALION. So should it look, But free, across a conquered realm ! The Past Is Man's possession, not his mocking glimpse Through loopholes of the jail where Reason pines. It giYes the Prophet vision, as a root Declares the measure of the branch it feeds ; But here are teachers, who, to lead the blind, Hoodwink themselves. What common eye can see Past things as present, ancient miracle To-day's dull fact, God's hand upon the man It looks at ? Over gulfs of ages these First find their sanctity, as our dark orb Drinks light from ether till it grows a star. PYRRHA. It is the heart that dares not look too near, Nor yet too high. Scene III.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 273 PRINCE DEUKALION. The heart, that doubts the brain, — Feeling, divorced from knowledge, — this it is That neither loves us nor can be estranged ; That dimly plays with our conjectured will ; Obeys, mistrusts itself and grows ashamed, — Then turns apostate ! PYRRHA. Nay, Deukalion, nay ! — That, born anew, retains the old desire ; That, kindled once, keeps memory of the flame ; That out of thwarted yearning, baffled peace, And endless pangs of vain self-surgery. Still floods all life with fond presentiment Of thee and me ! [Soicnd of the organ.) CHANT. From this body of death deliver, This burden of woes ! We call, as they called where the river Of Babylon flows. Like the wail of a captive nation Is the sound of our lamentation. From the pleasures that still delight us ; From the daily sins that smite us ; From the difficult, vain repentance And the dread of the coming sentence ; From the knowledge that gropes and stumbles ; From the pride of mind that humbles ; From beauteous gifts that harden, And bliss that implores not pardon ; From the high dreams that enslave us, We beseech Thee, save us ! 18 274 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act III. PRINCE DEUKALION. Joy in Thy world divine, And the body like to Thine ; Pride in the mind that dares To scale Thy starry stairs, Rising, at each degree, The least space nearer Thee ; Strength to forget the ill, So Thy good to fulfil ; Freedom to seek and find All that our dreams designed. Driven by Thine own goads Forth on a thousand roads ; Patience to wrest from Time Something of Truth sublime, Or of Beauty that shall live, — ■ We beseech Thee, give ! CALCHAS. {Perceiving Prince Deukalion and Pyrrha.) I do mistrust these strangers. Since that she, Medusa, thrust them out from all her realms. What time she banished her of orb and star I sheltered (threatening now with adder sting For life revived), they wander to and fro — Or others in their likeness, — and disturb My settled sway. Freedom I gave, because Free-will must choose me, — bade men seek the truth. Because the truth conducts them back to me. Urania, with her forward-peering eyes, Saw not the vestments, which, to mark her mine, I laid upon her shoulders : suddenly now, Full-statured, with uplifted head she walks. And drops her loosed phylacteries in the dust. These, too ! — whate'er they purpose must be mine, Scene IIL] PRINCE DEUKALION. 275 If good, since other good exists not : yet They stir some quick perversity of heart In man and woman, teach abohshed needs, And open gates I shut — but may not bar. They come this way. I '11 question them. PRINCE DEUKALION {advancing). High-Priest, Thou shouldst proclaim us, and thou know'st us not ! CALCHAS. Much have I heard. PRINCE DEUKALION. What most ? CALCHAS. That ye do breed Confusion. PRINCE DEUKALION. Nay ! — but out of thine we build The ruined harmony. CALCHAS. Then, enemies Ye now declare yourselves, where I but deemed Some seed of pride had sprouted o'er its fall. What is 't ye do ? PRINCE DEUKALION. What thou hast never done, Who hast one purpose where thy sons need all. Who keep'st them puppets lest they grow to Gods ! 276 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act III. CALCHAS. I seek to save them. PRINCE DEUKALION. They will save themselves, Not by one anchor which may drag them down, But carried outward by all winds that blow Into the shoreless deep ! Give knowledge room, Yea, room to doubt, and sharp denial's gust That makes all things unstable ! Tremble not When stern Urania writes the words of Law : Make once more Life the noble thing it was When Gods were human, or the nobler thing It shall be when The God becomes divine ! CALCHAS. Blasphemer ! PRINCE DEUKALION. Curse, if so it comfort thee, Thy weapon, too, is terror ; but when men Cease to be cowards, idle Hell shall close. PYRRHA. Yield what thou canst : there still is time. Give up Dead symbols of the perished ages : doff The trappings of a haughty alien race Whose speech was never thine : keep but the spark Of pure white Truth which nor repels, forbids Nor stings, but ever broadening warms the world ! Think what thy lips have promised, how thy hand Rent suddenly our chains ! Nearest thou art Of them that sway the torpid souls of men : So, then, be all where thou art but a part, — Be all, teach all, grant all, and make thyself Eternal ! Scene III.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 277 CALCHAS. PRINCE DEUKALION. Not yet, Save in the taste of that thou offerest, — Repentance. PYRRHA. And thou mightst be, in thy love. CALCHAS. Repentance ? Love ? What words are these you speak ? One wins the other : I announce them both, And all beatitude that follows them. ^ Beyond the curse inherited by flesh. Beyond this cloudy valley, where as rain Fall human tears, and sighs of vain desires Make an incessant gust, I know the way To refuge, and the one permitted bliss Of living souls. PRINCE DEUKALION. Let me behold that bliss ! I have the right of entrance ; fear thou not ! The phantom key thy hand yet seems to clutch Lend me a moment ; or, canst thou not yield. Then stand aside ! — O Father is it time ? PROMETHEUS {rises). What matters, whether soon or late ? Thine is the burden, thine the fate. Long hast thou waited, not too long, For patience is the test of wrong ; And thee the slow years may allow 278 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act III. Some right of deeper vision now. The trial art thou strong to bide, Explore thy way ! — there is no guide. \pisappears, PRINCE DEUKALION. {Seizing the horns of the Ark upon the altar.) I know what holy mysteries were thine In the old days : but what art thou become ? Yield up thy spells to one who saw thee pass Through the dusk halls where Amun-Ra was lord, Or Nile-borne on thy barque of flowers ! What lore Of wandering souls — of life beyond the end — Is thine to give us ? {A pause. ) Nothing more than this ? — Gray emptiness of space, with here and there A flying shadow, whether man or fiend The eye detects not : something vast of form. Yet Hebrew-featured, stirred to mighty wrath By hostile Gods, defending, as it seems, A throne secure, — uncertain of His will, And undecided if His sons shall live. They, too, poor ghosts ! must hover on the verge Betwixt two worlds : they reach no firmer soil Of airy substance, yet which may upbear Thin feet of spirits, but in endless whirl Drift through the shapeless void. I '11 look no more. {He lays his hand upon the Cross.) Symbol of Fire, the oldest, holiest ! Forget thy speech on Asia's hoary hills. Dip thy pure arms in blood of sacrifice, And tell me what thou heraldest ! Scene IV.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 279 CALCHAS. Avaunt ! PYRRHA. There is less profanation in his act Than in thy prayers. Be silent, — wait the end ! (Prince Deukalion's eyes close: he slozvly sinks dozvu ajid lies, leaning against the altar.) Scene IV. THE VISION OF PRINCE DEUKALION. As out of mist an unknown island grows, It swam in space, surrounded with repose. " Behold," an airy whisper said, " the sphere Through hope existing, as yon pit through fear ; For what men pray for — while they pray — shall last, Since Faith creates her Future as her Past." No light of sun, or moon, or any star Touched the white battlements that gleamed afar. Or painted with strong ray the pastures wide Between slow stream and easy mountain-side, But over all such cold and general glow As moonhght spreads upon a land of snow, Yet fairer, shone ; and myriads wandered there, Giving no stir to that unbreathing air, White as the meadow-blossoms, and as still. And white as clouds on each unshadowed hill. A city vast, that bore an earthly name, With thousand pinnacles of frost and flame Stood in the midst ; and twelvefold flashed unrolled The pavements of her avenues of gold. Where harps and voices one high strain did pour Of " Holy, holy, holy ! " evermore. 28o PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act III. And out the centre, from the burnished glare, A golden stairway sloped athwart the air, And faded upward, where a Phantom shone That changed in form to them that gazed thereon. These, side by side, and wing caressing wing, Rested like wild doves on their wandering, Innumerable : and o'er them seraphim Winnowed rich plumes to make the glory dim, And children's faces, kissed with sweeter light. Circled in swarms around a Throne of white. Shapes of no sex, too beautiful for man. Too cold for woman, spread the rosy van And slanted, shining, far amid the space. Some pleasure came on each uplifted face To see those messengers, — some rapid awe, When that high Form, with hidden brow, they saw, — But else their eyes were weary, and the fold Of each white mantle slept upon the gold. Dead seemed their hands, save when the harps they smote And made accord of one perpetual note. The entrance of a living spirit there Gave a quick motion to the torpid air, Startled the light with shadow, and breathed out Keen earthly odors ; yet of dread or doubt Among the myriad myriads was no sign. A listless wonder woke in souls supine. But made no speech, for consciousness was numb. Save to the awful voice of what must come. As on dead continents the Hve sea's roar : " Forevermore ! Forevermore ! " PRINCE DEUKALION Angels, a moment stay Your heavenly errands, and betray Scene IV] PRINCE DEUKALION. '• What nature, beautiful and dim, As in some twilight dream of power Is born for one bright hour, Ye have received from Him ! Shorn of all kin are ye, Companionless, unwed With primal mortals, loveless, passion-free, Not living, neither dead ! Declare me this : Is it your only bliss To sail, soft-shining, with your wings outspread ? To cheat the ecstacy ye cannot share. With apparitions fair ? To give each holy dream Its warranty supreme. The palm to promise, and the lily bear ? ANGELS. We cannot know : We are the feather, His the breath to blow. Though human yearning mould Our passive being, we are cold. Pity, to eyes that mourn ; Passion, to hearts that burn ; Reward, to lives that dare ; Salvation, unto prayer, — What face men look for, such we wear ! Unborn, we have no destiny, Nor other being than to be ; Nor service, but to soar 'Twixt One Adored and many that adore. What should we further tell ? Thou hast no message : so farewell ! 282 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act III. PRINCE DEUKALION. But ye, Transfigured, whose denial Endured the life-long trial, — Pure souls, whose only human terror Made Thought an ambushed error, — Who now possess, secure from losing, The bliss of your own choosing. Speak, are there needs ye here have sighed for, More than on earth ye died for .? SPIRITS. Is it permitted ? PRINCE DEUKALION. I am here. SPIRITS. We tremble, yet we must not fear. The bright temptation of thy brow We once resisted, conquers now ; But thought unused and voice unheard Deny us the consenting word. PRINCE DEUKALION. Look on me, and it shall be given ! SPIRITS. O joy ! O pain ! As leaves from autumn boughs are dri', At last, at last, Thy will hath torn us from our Past, And half we live again ! Yea, here is glory, here is bliss, Arms that sustain us, lips that kiss, And rest, and peace, and pain's rev Scene IV.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 283 In that pure light which seems the Lord ; But — bhss without endeavor, And lips that cannot part ; And rest that sleeps forever In each immortal heart ; And light whose splendor hideth The Face we burn to see — What is it that divideth Eternity and thee ? PRINCE DEUKALION. I am eternal, even as ye. But your concealed, undying woe Is this : ye have not sought to know. SPIRITS. We did obey. PRINCE DEUKALION. But whom, ye may not say. Have ye beheld Him ? SPIRITS. Nay. PRINCE DEUKALION. Once more upon Him call : Uplift awakened eyes ! Though falling as ye fall, He rises as ye rise. SPIRITS. His Will in dreams we saw, And left unlearned His guiding law 5 We forced our lives to crave, 2S4 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act III. Through bondage, what His freedom gave ; Till, having fondly wrought, We own the Paradise we sought, — Self-bound, and over-blessed With endless weariness of rest ! One multitudinous sigh was breathed along The golden avenues, and shook the song : But far aloft they heard a trumpet blown. And keen white splendor gathered round the Throne. Then slowly up the ether-darkened blue The meads and hills and battlements withdrew, Till all the sphere became a silvery moon. With ever-lessening disk, and star-Hke soon, And faded out : but in the hollow space All suns and planets kept their ancient place. Scene V. A wide plain, uninhabited, dotted with ancient inotmds. Epi- METHEUS, seated 071 a fallen pillar, at the doo7'way of a half- exhumed palace, with a broken tablet in his hand. EPIMETHEUS. It is the speech I heard but yesterday. When all this buried pomp stood bright in air, Terrace on terrace, till the topmost seemed Fit for the feet of some descending God, While bannered masts and galleries of sound Hailed him, invisible ; and whispered words To consecrated ears, these tablets bore ; And the wide shadow of this power was thrown O'er half the world. What said Prometheus then, Scene V.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 285 When, groping first on fields of unblown mist, I sought to hold the ever- vanishing forms With stable vision ? — " 'T is the Future's gift, To know the Past ! " Yet I had mused, not slept, Through weary ages : 't was alone their dust That made me seem so hoary. Action, now, And waxing knowledge, destiny fulfilled, Restore the ardors of Titanic youth. Though lost the primal struggle, lost the joy That even defeat to high defiance yields, I am at last a Power, and challenge Powers, — A truth, and thus a terror ! In my veins Burns eager blood ; I know my brow is fair, My voice hath music, and the ears of men Perforce must hearken, as I tell the tale Of ever older and of mightier Pasts, Lost tongues and sacred secrets, stolen faiths, Perverted symbols, and the favor shed — One tribe usurped — upon the Chosen All ! {Enter Urania.) URANIA. What doest thou here ? EPIMETHEUS. I triumph ! URANIA. Wherefore now. More than erewhile ? EPIMETHEUS. I have remembered that Forgotten, when I saw nor understood ; And now remembered since I know. 286 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act III. URANIA. ( Taking up a handful of dust) And I Have found in this the secret of all worlds. Thy Past ? I know no Past ! Thou dream'st of time, — It is not, was not ! Nothing is, save Law. Thy feet are on my paths : not heeding them I guided thee, yet in so much of power As may be given thee, more of freedom lies For them that follow me and cannot turn. EPIMETHEUS. Proud wast thou ever. URANIA. Proud, because assailed, As who, with full hands bearing gifts, is spurned. EPIMETHEUS. Yet pause ! I am no longer slack of thought : I know thy being. Though I give return Of needed help, the will which sent me forth Hath still some ancient empire over thee. URANIA. Yea, thou art wakened ! Why should I conceal From thee, thus proud, associate soon with him, Thy brother, whose large vision moves with mine. The ultimate barrier where I needs must pause ? But thou, and every Titan yoked with thee, And every track that other knowledge treads, And all the visions unto Faith allowed. Reach not so far : what matter if I halt, Not impotent, where no disturbance comes To vex me, resting but a little while ? Scene V.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 287 Push back that point where thou rememberest not Through countless aeons, still thou find'st my trail ! Grasp thou the seeds of life in sun and star, And sink then, fainting, where I stand and smile ! 'T is not subjection, but a limit, rules : My work is baffled since I could not give The primal impulse. EPIMETHEUS. Neither thou, nor he, Prometheus ! Cease ! — thy words renew the chill That seizes me at each new victory. The cry of old affections shakes my hand ; The gush of human heart's-blood comes to dim My crystal eyesight ; and a something lost. Because unsought, perchance unsearchable, — ■ Unknown, because unknowable to sense, — Assails my right. EPIMETHEUS. There is no enmity Where neither can be lord : do thou thy task, I mine, and each eternal Force its own ! Scene VI. The shore of the open ocean: morning. PRINCE DEUKALION. Thou lookest eastward, past the gem-like round, The sky of opal and the sea of pearl : 288 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act HI. I surely misinterpret not thy hope, Or is 't thy longing ? PYRRHA. Say, my haughty faith, That will not pray for what it must expect. Once have I called on Eos, but I call No more : the silver echo of her words Repeats itself within me, as their vows To happy lovers. Thus it was she spake : " Faith, when none believe, Truth, when all deceive, Freedom, when force restrains, Courage to sunder chains, Pride, when good is shame. Love, when love is blame, — These shall call me in stars and flame ! " Thence call I not ; but, yonder, as I gaze, The twin stars, visible no more to sense, Glimmer, the phantoms of her eyes ; the red, Now fading, is her cheek's immortal flush, And the loose golden opulence of her hair These clouds untangle. PRINCE DEUKALION. Here her face revealed Would doubly promise, as the mirroring wave Doubled her loveliness. The conquering Gods Made too much haste to seize a mountain-throne : This were their seat; but old Poseidon took The realm that should be Jove's, where, set between The unknown silence and the noise of earth. Are too pure elements, pavement and dome. Here glimpse upon the soul imagined shores ; Here Fancy out of changeful air may build Scene VI.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 28.9^ Her far-off palaces ; yet what of truth, Accepted fate or world-defying will Exists, confirms as well its being, here. Time is the billow, Destiny the shore. PYRRHA. Deukalion ! PRINCE DEUKALION. I see the gray Of waves that first shall darken to the sun ; The distance, where no separating line Cuts the soft web of sky-inwoven sea ; And all the dipping rondure of the world Beneath it, where the mighty Day looks down, Or sadly hngers for the word and deed Undone, unspoken ! PYRRHA. Ah ! as out of air It suddenly grew, I see a glorious barque With bellied canvas of the morning cloud, The cordage of translucent vapor spun. The hull a curve of sea-foam, foamlessly Borne onward, silent, with unruffled prow Approaching us ! Two forms direct her speed. And either's arm is on the other's neck. And locks of gray and gold are mixed above Their equal brows. Thou hast not called them? PRINCE DEUKALION. Nay, And yet, beholding not, I know the twain. Oh, come ye hither from the unmeasured Deep, And not from Hades ? Come ye with the morn, 19 290 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act III. Unsurarooned, though the morning's goddess fail ? Come ye, at last, whose birth reversed your fates, United, one in knowledge, one in power ? JFather, and thou, alike a father, hail ! (Prometheus and Epimetheus appear.) PROMETHEUS. What language hath, to-day, the sea, To chill, inspire or menace thee ? What eager hope or spleen forlorn Blew on thee through the gates of morn 1 — Or were thy power and purpose dumb To speak our coming, ere we come ? PYRRHA. Not in dejection did we brood. Hearkening the many voices of the sea. But for the scattered spirits free Which lure, yet mock, the captive multitude ; And for these last, who yet Can neither learn new things, nor old forget ; And to fulfil thy plan That woman shall be woman, man be man, We pondered, here apart. One w^isdom for the brain and heart ! PRINCE DEUKALION. Not in dejection, no ! — while every Force, Once idle, formless, unto Man becomes A god to labor and a child to guide ; While Space, obstructing human will no more. Makes Time a tenfold ally ; while the draught Of knowledge, once a costly cup, invites Free as the wayside brook to whoso thirsts, And aspiration, trying lonely wings, Scene VI.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 291 Escapes the ancient arrow ! These are gains We cannot lose ; but what new justice comes With them, to right Earth's everlasting wrong ? The weariness of work that never sees Its consequence ; chances of joy denied To noble natures, prodigal for mean ; Helpless inheritance of want and crime ; The simplest duties never owned untaught, The highest marred by holy ignorance ; Crowned Self, that with his impudent hollow words, Is noisiest, and Vanity that deems His home the universe, his day all time ! PROMETHEUS. These are, and they shall be ; Nor less, though thine impatience fret. Man is a child upon thy knee, And earth his cradle yet. Unto thy voice his quickening ears Open a httle space. Till, taught by dreams of countless years, His eyes shall know thy face. I stand as one that after darkness feels The twilight : all the air is promise-flushed, Yet strangely chill, and though the sense delight In sweet deliverance, something in the blood Cries for the sun. Ye know, who set my work, It is no selfish passion. Shorn are they, And by the fondest fate, of action's crown, My daughters, — so, denied their part In old divinity and balanced right Of man's prone worship, losing thence Some honor Time is ignorant to restore. 292 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act III. They need their equal half of all there is, Uniting, not dividing, Life. Who twains What once was one, makes both more grandly one ; Or thou and I, Deukalion, could not be ! PROMETHEUS. Now should Pandora speak ! Withdrawn the demigoddess sits, And silent, yet there flits A flush across her cheek, A soft light o'er her eye, And half her proud lips smile : Unto thy hope, the while, Be this enough reply ! PRINCE DEUKALION. ( To Epimetheus.) What bear'st thou from thine East .? EPIMETHEUS. The living Past That from its grave my former being caught. And left me youth. PROMETHEUS. Which, backward sent To Man's dim childhood, where thy memory dies, Foresees with me. EPIMETHEUS. And active even as thou ! I bring dread knowledge : change and overthrow, Despair of creeds, and shaking of the shrines, And fruitless building till the Builder come, Are in my hands. The Gods of races I Scene VI.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 293 Unseat, as Time or Tyranny of old Unseated them, by one subversive lore Of equal truth revealed to them that seek, None self-elected as depositors, But His eternal Covenant with Life For all, forever ! PRINCE DEUKALION. Who shall teach that lore ? PROMETHEUS. Its whisper now sets every wind of earth Vibrating : hearken, here ! — the subtle sea Hath learned it from the happier stars, and bears The message to his loneliest isles ; the buds Expand it in their blossoms ; helpless souls Discover it and rejoice, forebode and flee. Truth gathers being as the fire in air, Until, surcharged, it drops a blazing bolt And speaks in thunder. PRINCE DEUKALION. Who shall hurl those thrones, Untenanted, beside all wrecks of Power, And dwell above them, that mankind may rise ? PROMETHEUS. He is unknown. ECHOES. Unknown ! — yet known. He is alone. PROMETHEUS. ECHOES. Alone ! — yet with His Own. ACT IV. Scene I. A vast flowery meadow : the sea, cities and moimtains in the distance. AGATHON (a child). {Solus.) SOULS know their errands, — yet must live. Ere speaking, all the truth they give. Sad must their brooding childhood be Who teach the old captivity. And ah ! how sad, perplexed and strange Is theirs who see, but cannot change ; How dark who build not, yet destroy, — But mine, at last, but mine is joy ! No herald star announced my birth ; Men know not that I tread the earth ; I fashion not the doves of clay That, when I bid them, soar away; Nor twine the rose, in sportive need To make prophetic temples bleed ; Nor look, from eyes of early woe. The agony I shall not know ! O Purest, Holiest ! — not thy path 'Twixt tortured love and ancient wrath Is mine to follow : none again Wins thy beatitude of pain : Scene I.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 295 But all the glory of the Day, All beauty near or far away, All bliss of life that, born within, Makes quick forgetfulness of sin, Attend me, and through me express The meanino^ of their loveliness. Yonder, the weary, longing race Conjecture my maturer face, Nor dream the child's — when they behold Beneath its locks of sunburnt gold — That only says : " My life is sweet ; The crisp, cool grasses love ray feet ; The lulling air my body takes To slumber, and the wave awakes ; And pleasure comes from soil and flower, And out of lightning falls a power, And from the breath of ancient trees The vigor that enriches ease. And from the mountain-haunted skies The w^ill that ruins, save it rise ! " Be the white wings of Duty furled To-day, and let me own the world ! — The azure flag-flower basks in heat, Yet cools, below, her plashy feet ; The footsteps of the breezes pass In shadow-ripples down the grass, And glimmers, where the pool is thin, The slide of many a silver fin. Beam on my bosom, warmth divine, Until its pulsing currents shine Like yonder river's ! — pour the flame Of supple life through all my frame, Till consciousness of beauty there Gives me the glory I should wear ! 29^ PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act IV. My limbs shall float, my motions be Each a new change of ecstasy, Nor shall I breathe except to know What savors the swift airs bestow. While pure, as when its beats began, The heart to music builds the man ! I know I AM, — that simplest bhss The millions of my brothers miss. I know the fortune to be born. Even to the meanest wretch they scorn ; What mingled seeds of life are sown Broadcast, as by a hand unknown, (A Demon's or a child-god's way To scatter fates in wilful play !) — What need of suffering precedes All deeper wisdom, nobler deeds ; And how man's soul may only rise By something stern that purifies. But here I gather, ere my hour Shall call, the fresh, untainted power Of Nature, half our mother yet, And angry when her sons forget. Far as the living etlier bends My being through her own extends ; Free as a bird's to sink and soar O'er meadow, mountain, sea and shore ; One with the happy lives that breed Their Hke in spawn, and ^gg, and seed ; One with the careless motes that stray To gather gold for dying day, And with the dainty sorcery Of odors blown far out to sea. That say to mariners on the wing : The unseen earth is blossomins^ ! Scene II.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 297 But farther, finer, airier yet A soul may spin its mystic net, And, with unconscious heart-beat sped Vibrating on each gossamer thread, Declare itself and all it gives, Though, speaking not, it simply lives ! Scene II. The interior of a spaciozis church, as in Act III,, Scene III. Noon : the windows are open, and the nave is filled with sun- shine. Urania, slowly pacing down the main aisle. URANIA. An added step, and these groined arches fall ! The mine beneath the fortress of my foe Is dug, the fuse is laid, and only fails One spark of fire, but such as must be stolen Elsewhere than from mine atoms. How, save I, Myself, create, shall I creation solve ? Exalted thus, and throned on rigid Law, That bids a million universes whirl In the inconceivable Immensity, — Earth but a mote, and all humanity Its faint result, — shall I admit desire As cause, not sequence, fondest dreams as fact, And vast inflation of the vapory Self Beyond all spheres of sense ? With my large scheme This last breathes interference : unto me Myself suffices : no fond paramour Shall woo me for my beauty, save as truth Makes beautiful, or knowledge stands for love. Men's minds grow wider : my serener light Probes the dark closets of the mystic Past, 298 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act IV. And many a bat-like phantom, blinded, shrieks For the last time, and dies : yet — one more step, The final one, awaits me. AGATHON. {Appearing from behind the altar.) Yea, and that Thou canst not take. URANIA. What hinders me ? — speak on ! AGATHON. Then thou wert God ! URANIA. The Cause ? the first impelHng Force ? The Ages yet may make me so. AGATHON. And Man, Who, knowing thee, is everything thou art, Shall find himself created by his will, And all his faith in one advancing life Through fairer spheres is thine in being his ! Almighty Love, lord of intelhgence, Anointed Prophet of Eternity, Lives, even as thou. URANIA. And dies, when thwarted lavv Prohibits. AGATHON. Nay ! — not dies, howe'er obscured Scene II.] PRINCE DEUKALION, 299 Or mutilate, — not dies, in that dense dark Where thou art impotent, but is the ray That guides men to thy feet and far beyond ! URANIA. I know thou canst not be mine enemy ; Yet wh}?-, to flatter life, wilt thou repeat The unproven solace ? AGATHON. Proven by its need ! — By fates so large no fortune can fulfil ; By wrong no earthly justice can atone ; By promises of love that keep love pure ; And all rich instincts, powerless of aim. Save chance, and time, and aspiration wed To freer forces, follow ! By the trust Of the chilled Good that at life's very end Puts forth a root, and feels its blossom sure ! Yea, by thy law ! — since every being holds Its final purpose in the primal cell, And here the radiant destiny o'erflows Its visible bounds, enlarges what it took From sources past discovery, and predicts No end, or, if an end, the end of all ! URANIA. I know this dialect, so many strive To make it mine, or bend my tongue thereto. Let there be truce while perfect knowledge waits ! Here cometh one whom I must serve, — and thou, If thou wouldst live. {Enter Prince Deukalion.) AGATHON. My father ! 300 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act IV. PRINCE DEUKALION. Have I, then, In some exalted trance begotten thee ? — Ah, not from her who only should have nursed Thy babyhood, — oicr race is yet to come. Thou hast my features, and from heart and lip. As thus I hold them swiftly unto mine, Flows sweetness ; and the light in thy young eyes Is as a hope within me. AGATHON. And my work Shall bring me nearer, since, if thou wert not, I could not be ! My hands are tender yet, My feet too lightly borne, my soul ahve With too much joy : I feel, but cannot teach, And wander, guided by a shaft of light That shall illumine knowledge as I need. Whither, I question not : I only know It touches thee, or thy far phantasm set Where fades from earth the beam, so linking us In one design. The first art thou to know, The first to love me, — and wouldst first command ! PRINCE DEUKALION. I have awaited thee a thousand years. AGATHON. I waited for my time. PRINCE DEUKALION. Our blood thou hast : So might Prometheus speak. But wilt thou, here Where gray Tradition hews each separate stone, And vainly gropes decrepit Faith to clutch Scene II.] PRINCE DEUKALION. 301 The outflown Deity, transform the shrine Where He, so starved by penance, comes no more, But elsewhere stays until His feast be spread ? Some natural odor of the happy earth Breaks in with thee : the arches clasp above With leafy lightness of the summer boughs : The oriel drops rose-leaves, and the font, Bubbling and brightening with an inward life, Spins up in silver, tinkhng as it falls. What hast thou done ? AGATHON. At first I took away The High-Priest's mitre, long since threadbare grown. Eaten by moths, dust-soiled and shapeless. He, As one forgetful, sought, then seemed to wear. And with a customed hand to set aright, — Then missed, forgot again. His ephod, next. Of fine-twined linen, scarlet, blue and gold, The girdle and the breast-plate of the tribes, I hid from further use, — a sorer loss, Awhile in his bewildered looks betrayed And halting speech ; but now he scarce recalls That such things were nor could be otherwise. PRINCE DEUKALION. What next ? AGATHON. What still remains ; and — now — I do ! ( Agathon removes the tablet with the rayed triangle, takes the Ark of the Covenant from the top of the altar .^ and conceals them.) PRINCE DEUKALION. The Cross endures. 302 PRINCE DEUKALION. [Act IV. AGATHON. Till some diviner type Of man that loves and gives himself for men, Shall plant his emblem ! PRINCE DEUKALION. O'er it, set a star, — Beneath, a sphere ! AGATHON. Man must invent his own ; And this, that his far memory antedates, — Descended with him from the world's cold roof, Where, past the Indian peaks, on high Pamere His race was cradled, — from a single death Took sanctity forever ! Whether mine Be star or sphere, it is not mine to choose ; For I must pass ere I am known of men. Who seeing, hearing, loving me, perchance, Behold the brother, not the future god ! \Exennt. Scene III. The court of a grand, dusky temple, with beams as of cedar- wood, supported by gilded pillars. At the farther end, a veil, through which sciilptured cherubim are indistinctly seen. On each side are thrones, overlaid with gold, set in the in- terspaces of the colomiades. PROMETHEUS [solus). The sportive genii of illusive form, Of hidden color and divided ray, Have built me this, the ampler counterfeit Of thine, O Solomon ! that lifted up Scene III.] PRINCE DEUKALION 303 Moriah into flashing pinnacles, And spoiled umbrageous Lebanon to roof Its courts with cedar ! Less than air is mine, The ghost of thy barbaric fane, yet meet To hold the ghosts that deem themselves alive, As in a truce of spirit, when the Dead Float gray and moth-like through their wonted rooms, Are shaped in dusky nooks to living eyes. And send the hollow semblance of a voice To living ears, — the law that parts them both Being all inviolate. Such unconscious truce I now proclaim, as ever in large minds Holds back the narrower passion, and decides. The conflicts of the earth must sometimes pause, Breathless : some hour of weariness must come When each fierce Power inspects its battered mail, The old blade reforges, or picks out a new. While measuring with a dim and desperate eye The limbs of Man's new champion. Agathon ! Thy soul is yet outside the fiery lists : The trumpet hath not called thee: as a child Thou waitest, but the wisdom of a child Must first be spoken. From their seats of rule I summon them whom thou shalt meet, — and thee ! King of the glorious reign, To whom thy glory slain Returned for all men's gain, — Queen of the triple crown. Whose haughty eyes look down From heights of old renown, — Priest, that wast sent to be Deliverer, but mak'st free Only who follow thee, — Muse, that hast grown so high 304 I'RINCE DEUKALION. [Act IV. Through the unmeasured sky, Man knows thee but to die, — Come, or the phantom send, Commissioned to defend ! (77?^ forms — or phantasms —