University of Virginia Library

Scene IV.—Night. Within the Castle. Private chamber with a balcony overlooking illuminated gardens. Folding doors (closed) in the background communicating with the state apartments of the Castle. Orval and Veronica in the balcony.
(with music, from the gardens).
Orval.
Not yet!

Veronica.
Then one kiss more, my own dear love,
My husband, ... all best things in one best word!

Orval.
O breathe not, breathe not, even ... much less, move,
Thou fair fulfilment of all dreams!

Veronica.
My lord,
Guests in the garden ... look! My ladies wait
To robe thy bride.

Orval.
'Twill be no more the same
As it hath been, when we two pace in state,
I the staid spouse, and you the bashful dame.

Veronica.
Dear despot!

Orval.
Sweet, I prithee, by the flame
Of this one moment's fire life's substance prove,
Then take the ashes, Chance! I have lived, I love.

(They embrace).
Veronica.
I must away!

Orval.
Oh, dreams less fair than this
Have died ere now, slain by their own strong bliss!
Wake me not yet!

Veronica.
I hear my ladies call.

Orval.
No! 'twas the night-wind in those trembling trees
That tremble, being near thee; or the fall
Of yonder fountain, sighing for far seas,
As I for thee ... some Naïad's madrigal!

Veronica.
Flatterer!

Orval.
My love is great; all language small.

A Waiting Woman
(entering).
The bride's-ladies of Lady Orval attend
My lady in her chamber.

Orval.
Ah, the end!

Waiting Woman.
The lords of Montmirail, and Fontlerey,
Conan, and Cornuant, and Vitikend,
Cuthbert, and Giles of Orm .....

Orval.
Enough! go say
That Lady Orval comes.

(Exit Waiting Woman.)
Veronica.
I must not stay.
Dear love, this noise and heat, how wearisome!
The tiresome dance, the tedious talk! .. How blest,
Dear love, 'twill be in our own quiet home
To be alone together, and to rest.

Orval.
No, no! A costlier fancy comes in place
Of that which must depart now ... to complete,
And crown Love's feast-day with a final grace,
For Love's feast-night to cherish. Go now, Sweet!
Bathe all that beauty in new beams. Prepare
Thy perfect splendour. Think what I must feel
When presently I stand aside, as 'twere,
From my own bliss .. mix with the crowd .. conceal,
So far as fancy can, from every thought
The knowledge of my sovereignty in thee;
And see thee float before me sumptuously
In light, by thy full-beaming beauty wrought
(From love's bright never-failing source, thyself!)
Around thee ... like the languid splendour, blent
With balmy spices, when some radiant elf
Kindles all round him his rare element,
Upfloating to his native ether free,
While bursts the wizard's limbec .... as tho' nought
Of thee were mine, but that which all may see;
Till, spent with wishful wonder, back I sink,
Back on the dear delicious truth divine
That bids me live, with lavish leave to think,
And feel, and know, that all of thee is mine!
Mine, to make costly chaos and confusion
Of this well-order'd world! mine, mine the right
To ruffle that calm hair's composed profusion,
And free that bosom from its bondage bright!

Veronica.
O hush! my poor heart dreads this dear delusion.
I shudder, gazing from that dizzy height
Where thy praise holds me ... into an abyss.
I, who am full of faults, and weak and slight,
With nothing but the love you'll never miss
To keep me lovely in my dear love's sight.
When you shall find me nothing of all this
Your fancy feigns me now ...

Orval.
Quench fancy quite
In feeling thus, then ... drown'd in such a kiss!

Veronica.
May God, beneath whose gaze my heart lies bare
As the unclouded summer, grant the prayer
I pray'd when at His altar late I knelt,
This morn, and pray'd, when on my cheek I felt
My mother's tears ... that I may be to thee
All that his wife, my whole heart loves, should be!

Orval.
Go, robe thyself in glory! Let my glance,
Borne on thy beauty down the bounding dance,
Glide, where thou glidest, as the passionate bee
Follows hot fragrance through midsummer air.

Veronica.
My Orval! Dost thou wish it? would that we
Might glide away out of all noise and glare,
And be quite quiet ... in each other hidden
Safe from all eyes! But what by thee is bidden
Seems ever sweet to do.

Orval.
Veronica!

(She breaks from him.)
(as before).
Orval (alone).
Ay! wherefore should it dawn not now, that day?

(as before).
Orval.
Wherefore not now ... not here? For some new world
Majestic, populous with august shapes
Of power, and light, and loveliness, begins
From out mine inmost being to put forth fast
Full pulses of a multitudinous life.
O ye innumerable teeming thoughts,
Forces, and faculties, and fantasies,
That rise within me, lords of lucid stars
Whose light makes midnight glorious, are ye not
The monarchs of To-morrow? I have roam'd,
Horsed on four-hoovèd Cheiron, reedy plains
Where river nymphs rose up to stare at us,
And Amazonian maidens aim'd swift darts
That sung and miss'd us, as we fleeted past
Into old sleepy woods. I have twang'd the strings
Of Orpheus' harp, and tasted berries brown,
Asclepios gather'd out of gusty groves
By night for none but me. I have sail'd far
With heroes in a hollow ship, through gulfs
And plunging seas, to Colchis; and have seen
Black-eyed Medea boiling bitter herbs,
And pluckt the fleecy prize, and hasted home
Outspeeding Jason's ship. And, after all
These wonders, I awoke, I knew not where,
Toucht by a woman's hand. And this stale world
Of common life looks new and strange to me,
Who find myself set suddenly, aware,
Awake, with eyes wide ope, a living man,
In the mid concourse of mankind ... to cope,
Contend with, conquer, or be crusht by it? No!
Already in my right hand glows and throbs
The golden ball of empire! In my soul
Already stirs the instinct of command,
The godlike purpose, the preponderant will,
The proud resolve, and all that makes a man!
Farewell, you fair, fast-fading forms! Farewell,
You ghostly nurses of the full-grown strength
That in these pulses pants, impatient now
For action! Let mankind take heed! There comes,
Uncall'd, among the multitude of men,
A stranger, native to an age not theirs;
Who means from out the mass of mortal deeds
To carve a mighty monument for dreams
That are immortal. Let mankind make way!

Phantom Voices
(on the air, dispersedly).
Whither, O whither, do we float to find thee?
Thee, whom we chose and cherisht for our own!
Dost thou not hear upon the dark behind thee
Familiar voices making fondest moan?
Whilst thou wast ours,
Say, did we ever seek, false friend, to bind thee
Faster than falling flowers
Which, for thy careless crown
Cull'd by our fond hands from forgotten bowers,
If lightest winds blew (could blown rose-leaves blind thee?)
Dropp'd from thy loose locks, in soft-shaken showers,
Laughingly down?

Orval.
Whence are those voices? I have heard them once,
When? Where? But now how changed their tone! how faint!
Doth the wind sing them? or doth fancy feign
The fleeting echo of departed days?
What are those forms that float before mine eyes,
And seem to sink into yon drowning dark
With desperate gestures, and wan visages?

The Voices
(growing fainter).
Faintly, ah faintly (effort unavailing!)
Strive we to reach thee! Thou recedest ever.
Where doth the fault lie? What hath been the failing?
Was it thine or ours? ah, vain the dear endeavour,
Loved one, but lost!
And upon the midnight air we hush our wailing;
Ghost, after withering ghost,
Wounded, with wings that shiver,
Shaked by the night-wind, a despairing host,
Lost as loosed blossoms on the bleak air sailing
Down from hurt boughs that, bitten by the frost,
Bloom again never!

Orval.
They fade. So best! Lost friends, whose liquid eyes,
That shine through swimming tears, from mine recede
Like sad stars waning in the windy mist
Night sends to quench them ... you, whose woeful arms,
Yet waving, melt upon the midnight air,
Whose voices I no longer disentwine
From the night-swarming murmurs of the crowd
Beneath me ... fare you well, without regret!
If from the world of dreams I am come down
To earth at last, it is because on earth
I find at last a world of dreams fulfill'd
In one unblemisht life's beneficence
Of love for me. God, if my full soul falter,
Faithless to faith so fair, my soul disown!

Guardian Angel
(passing above).
Keep thy vow before God's altar,
And be my brother before God's throne.

A Kinsman
(of the House of Orval, entering with Father Adam).
I told you we should 'light upon him here,
Lost in the admiration of himself.
Rouse, Orval! All thy kindred wait below.

Father Adam.
Peace be upon this house, and thee, my son!

Orval.
Peace, Father? No! In passion there's no peace.
Painters and priests have given dove's wings to Love.
They err, Love's wings have eagle plumes.

Father Adam.
My son,
Those Loves with eagle plumes are birds of prey
Or birds of passage. Holy household love
Ranges no further than the dove's wing bears
The dove's breast from her nested brood. All loves
That are not also duties, loves that build
No nest, are wanton wanderers, fed by chance
Or plunder; and the husbandman does well
To scare them off, or shoot them down. Young man,
There's more in holy marriage than mere love.
And that small consecrated golden hoop
Circling the finger of a wife, the vow
Breathed o'er it from a husband's heart converts
Into Eternity. Love takes it up,
And turns it to a sacred talisman
That opes to him the sacramental doors
Of that mysterious temple roofing all
The space between God's altar and man's tomb.

Kinsman.
That's what I say myself. Most certainly,
Love's the least part of marriage. Look you now,
Dear Cousin, at this marriage of your own
Which all of us rejoice at—I not least;—
Won from the wandering ways youth roams alone,
Fitly companion'd, taking with you all
That should accompany life's traveller, trains
Of goodly baggage, troops of trusty friends,
You enter here life's broad main highway, bound
For where life's sober business must begin
In serious earnest. You begin it well,
With all the necessary furniture;
Lord, as by these wise nuptials now you are,
Of half a province, with a princely name.
Think what you may be, should be, must be. Cousin,
The king is old and weak, and knows no more
Than a sick pauper in a hospital,
Plagued by a dozen vile diseases, each
Disputed by a dozen doctors, where
To turn, or whom to trust. Last year's new nostrums
Are all used up: last year's new minister
Totters already: and the hasty time
Wears out great reputations fast as men
Wear boots out on forced marches. You're the man,
The very man that's wanted ...

Orval.
What! to smear
My white hands with the soils of your bad work,
That's daily wearying hands, no longer clean,
Of clumsy drudges, task'd in vain to keep
This execrable heap of rotten rubbish,
You call a system, just a little longer
Than, if the wind blows, it seems likely now
To hold together? I'll not touch it, Cousin.
I will not turn state tinker,—stop one hole,
And make a dozen; by a pauper prince
Paid from the plunder of a pauper people,
And call'd fine names, for doing foolish work,
By foolish folk. No, Father, you say well.
There's more in marriage than mere love: though love,
If true to one, is true to all. But if
I march forth to the battle-field of life
Bearing love's banner, it shall be to fight
Not in the rear, but in the van, and win
New realms for man.

Kinsman.
I've but one word to say, then.
'Tis what a certain celebrated cook
Said to his too enthusiastic pupil:
‘You push the pepper to fanaticism.’
But here comes Lady Orval.

Father Adam.
Welcome, daughter!

Bride's-ladies
(entering with Lady Orval).
Love us, Lord Orval, for the loveliness
We must restore to you; our sweet tasks done.

Orval.
I do, dear ladies, and most lovingly
For your loved kindnesses I thank you all.
Commend me to the Graces, who, I see,
When Venus lost her godhead, wisely came
To live with you.

Master Andrew
(entering).
My lord, the hall is thronged
By liegemen to the Orvals, vassals, friends
And guests, inquiring for their noble host,
With voices whose impatient eagerness
I know not how to answer.

Orval.
We are ready.
Give me thy hand, dear love. Throw wide the doors.
Thou tremblest, my Veronica?

Veronica.
Stay by me!

(The doors are thrown open.)
Retainers.
Long live the Bride and Bridegroom! Louder, lads!
Long live our Lord and Lady!

Orval.
Thanks to all,
From us and ours. Fair welcome, worthy friends!
Joy's mouth is mute. Let music make amends.

Orval and Veronica pass down the hall saluting the guests. Music as the scene closes.