The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley [i.e. J. B. L. Warren] |
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 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
Orestes—Dyseris—Simus—Eudicus—Medius—The Envoy—Attendants
DYSERIS
Envoys of Crannon, if we answered now,
Wise in man's wisdom, which is sure of feet
A little while and falters at the end,
We could mouth answer arrogant as ye.
But we have laid our pride upon the knees
Of ever-wakeful gods, whose oracle
We are dumb servants wholly to obey—
Eudicus, priest and seer, read in God's name.
EUDICUS
So please you, I am old and feeble-tongued
Before this frequence to mar God's reply.
Let Simus read, so shall no one word fail,
He hath the throat of Ares and Zeus' eyes.
SIMUS
The God who sits in intense light beyond
Our darkness, under whose eternal eyes
The cloud of human sorrow like a dream
Floats by, and his breath guides it. Under whom,
Like some far mere with ripples, human life
Now burns with light, now chills with blue-black storm,
The mighty saith, “Why will ye weary me,
Children of men, in my ineffable joy;
Why will ye taint the sweet of my repose
With groaning and with travail and with tears?
Your life is nothing to me, nor your joy.
Am I the judge of death and fate and time?
Yea, as these things reach you and yours, I am none.
Yet as this little city that now calls
Up to my throne, hath set my sanctuary
With cedar ledges and with golden lavers,
Making my name a glory, I will answer
To these men only, “Let Orestes go
With these men fearless, going he shall gain
A quiet empire and much after-peace.”
Thus far the god: and thou, Orestes, heed.
Do thou God's word and he shall fence thy throne.
DYSERIS
And is our son obedient to begone?
ORESTES
Ay, mother, most obedient, and thy son—
It is a strange superfluous word this “son,”
Meaning—well, that's no matter now, but strangely
You have recalled some silly memories
Using it now, just ere I go: they are gone.
Ready am I, ay, merry to begone,
Why I shall be as safe upon my road
As in my palace here, therefore most safely.
And I will trust the faith of these same men
As your and Simus' love. How am I riched
In trusty loving friends. Sirs, let us go;
There are some hours of sunlight to run down,
They'll serve us well. You have fared well I hope
In our poor palace; do you like this strange
Quaint tracery of our walls? I think the artist
Was an Athenian: nay, Sirs, after you;
Mother and trusty Simus, if “farewell”
Were not unnecessary on a journey
So safe as this, I'd say it.
DYSERIS
Envoys of Crannon, if we answered now,
Wise in man's wisdom, which is sure of feet
A little while and falters at the end,
We could mouth answer arrogant as ye.
But we have laid our pride upon the knees
Of ever-wakeful gods, whose oracle
We are dumb servants wholly to obey—
Eudicus, priest and seer, read in God's name.
218
So please you, I am old and feeble-tongued
Before this frequence to mar God's reply.
Let Simus read, so shall no one word fail,
He hath the throat of Ares and Zeus' eyes.
SIMUS
The God who sits in intense light beyond
Our darkness, under whose eternal eyes
The cloud of human sorrow like a dream
Floats by, and his breath guides it. Under whom,
Like some far mere with ripples, human life
Now burns with light, now chills with blue-black storm,
The mighty saith, “Why will ye weary me,
Children of men, in my ineffable joy;
Why will ye taint the sweet of my repose
With groaning and with travail and with tears?
Your life is nothing to me, nor your joy.
Am I the judge of death and fate and time?
Yea, as these things reach you and yours, I am none.
Yet as this little city that now calls
Up to my throne, hath set my sanctuary
With cedar ledges and with golden lavers,
Making my name a glory, I will answer
To these men only, “Let Orestes go
With these men fearless, going he shall gain
A quiet empire and much after-peace.”
Thus far the god: and thou, Orestes, heed.
Do thou God's word and he shall fence thy throne.
DYSERIS
And is our son obedient to begone?
ORESTES
Ay, mother, most obedient, and thy son—
It is a strange superfluous word this “son,”
Meaning—well, that's no matter now, but strangely
You have recalled some silly memories
Using it now, just ere I go: they are gone.
Ready am I, ay, merry to begone,
Why I shall be as safe upon my road
As in my palace here, therefore most safely.
219
As your and Simus' love. How am I riched
In trusty loving friends. Sirs, let us go;
There are some hours of sunlight to run down,
They'll serve us well. You have fared well I hope
In our poor palace; do you like this strange
Quaint tracery of our walls? I think the artist
Was an Athenian: nay, Sirs, after you;
Mother and trusty Simus, if “farewell”
Were not unnecessary on a journey
So safe as this, I'd say it.
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |