The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley in ten volumes |
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 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
Scene I.
Court of Krung—Royal Ministers, Counselors, etc., in session. Crestillomeem, in full blazonry of regal attire, presiding. She signals a Herald at her left, who steps forward. —Blare of trumpets, greeted with ominous murmurings within, blent with tumult from without.Herald
Hist, ho! Ay, ay! Ay, ay!—Her Majesty,
The All-Glorious and Ever-Gracious Queen,
Crestillomeem, to her most loyal, leal
And right devoted subjects, greeting sends—
Proclaiming, in the absence of the King,
Her royal presence—
[Voice of Herald fails abruptly—utterly.—A breathless hush falls sudden on the court.—A sense oppressive—ominous—affects the throng. Weird music heard of unseen instruments.]
Herald
[Huskily striving to be heard]
Hist, ho! Ay, ay! Ay, ay!—Her Majesty,
372
Crestillomeem—
[The Queen gasps, and clutches at Herald, mutely signing him to silence, her staring eyes fixed on a shadowy figure, mistily developing before her into wraith-like form and likeness of The Tune-Fool, Spraivoll. The shape—evidently invisible and voiceless to all senses but the Queen's—wavers vaporishly to and fro before her, moaning and crooning in infinitely sweet-sad minor cadences a mystic song.]
Wraith-Song of Spraivoll.
I will not hear the dying word
Of any friend, nor stroke the wing
Of any little wounded bird.
... Love is the deadest thing!
Of any friend, nor stroke the wing
Of any little wounded bird.
... Love is the deadest thing!
I wist not if I see the smile
Of prince or wight, in court or lane.—
I only know that afterwhile
He will not smile again.
Of prince or wight, in court or lane.—
I only know that afterwhile
He will not smile again.
The summer blossom, at my feet,
Swims backward, drowning in the grass.—
I will not stay to name it sweet—
Sink out! and let me pass!
Swims backward, drowning in the grass.—
I will not stay to name it sweet—
Sink out! and let me pass!
373
I have no mind to feel the touch
Of gentle hands on brow and hair.—
The lack of this once pained me much,
And so I have a care.
Of gentle hands on brow and hair.—
The lack of this once pained me much,
And so I have a care.
Dead weeds, and husky-rustling leaves
That beat the dead boughs where ye cling,
And old dead nests beneath the eaves—
Love is the deadest thing!
That beat the dead boughs where ye cling,
And old dead nests beneath the eaves—
Love is the deadest thing!
Ah once I fared not all alone;
And once—no matter, rain or snow!—
The stars of summer ever shone—
Because I loved him so!
And once—no matter, rain or snow!—
The stars of summer ever shone—
Because I loved him so!
With always tremblings in his hands,
And always blushes unaware,
And always ripples down the strands
Of his long yellow hair.
And always blushes unaware,
And always ripples down the strands
Of his long yellow hair.
I needs must weep a little space,
Remembering his laughing eyes
And curving lip, and lifted face
Of rapture and surprise.
Remembering his laughing eyes
And curving lip, and lifted face
Of rapture and surprise.
O joy is dead in every part,
And life and hope; and so I sing:
In all the graveyard of my heart
Love is the deadest thing!
And life and hope; and so I sing:
In all the graveyard of my heart
Love is the deadest thing!
374
Herald
[Mechanically]
Hist, ho! Ay, ay! Ay, ay!—Her Majesty,
The All-Glorious and Ever-Gracious Queen,
Crestillomeem, to her most loyal, leal
And right devoted subjects, greeting sends—
Proclaiming, in the absence of the King,
Her royal presence, as by him empowered
To sit and occupy, maintain and hold,
And therefrom rule the Throne, in sovereign state,
And work the royal will— [Confusion]
Hist, ho! Ay, ay!
Ay, ay!—And be it known, the King, in view
Of his approaching dissolution—
[Sensation among Counselors, etc., within, and wild tumult without and cries of “Long live the King!” and “Treason!” “Intrigue!” “Sorcery!” Crestillomeem, in suppressed ire, waving silence, and Herald striving to be heard.]
375
Hist, ho! Ay, ay! Ay, ay!—The King, in view
Of his approaching dissolution, hath
Decreed this instrument—this royal scroll
[Unrolling and displaying scroll]
With royal seal thereunto set by Krung's
Most sacred act and sign—
[General sensation within, and growing tumult without, with wrangling cries of “Plot!” “Treason!” “Conspiracy!” and “Down with the Queen” “Down with the usurper!” “Down with the Sorceress!”]
Crestillomeem
[Wildly]
Who dares to cry
“Conspiracy!” Bring me the traitor-knave!
[Growing confusion without—sound of rioting.— Voice, “Let me be taken! Let me be taken!” Enter Guards, dragging Jucklet forward, wild-eyed and hysterical—the Queen's gaze fastened on him wonderingly.]
Crestillomeem
[To Guards]
Why bring ye Jucklet hither in this wise?
376
O Queen, 'tis he who cries “Conspiracy!”
And who incites the mob without with cries
Of “Plot!” and “Treason!”
Crestillomeem
[Starting]
Ha! Can this be true?
I'll not believe it!—Jucklet is my fool,
But not so vast a fool that he would tempt
His gracious Sovereign's ire. [To Guards]
Let him be freed!
[Then to Jucklet, with mock service]
Stand hither, O my Fool!
Jucklet
[To Queen]
What! I, thy fool?
Ho! ho! Thy fool?—ho! ho!—Why, thou art mine!
[Confusion—cries of “Strike down the traitor!”
Jucklet wrenching himself from grasp of
officers]
Ho! ho! Thy fool?—ho! ho!—Why, thou art mine!
Back, all of ye! I have not waded hell
That I should fear your puny enmity!
Here will I give ye proof of all I say!
That I should fear your puny enmity!
Here will I give ye proof of all I say!
377
Lo! do I here defy her to lift up
Her voice and say that Jucklet speaks a lie.
[At sign of Queen, Officers, unperceived by Jucklet,
close warily behind him.]
Her voice and say that Jucklet speaks a lie.
And, further—I pronounce the document
That craven Herald there holds in his hand
A forgery—a trick—and dare the Queen,
Here in my listening presence, to command
Its further utterance!
That craven Herald there holds in his hand
A forgery—a trick—and dare the Queen,
Here in my listening presence, to command
Its further utterance!
Crestillomeem
[Wildly rising]
Hold, hireling!—Fool!—
The Queen thou dost in thy mad boasts insult
Shall utter first thy doom!
[Jucklet, seized from behind by Guards, is hurled
face upward on the dais at her feet, while a
minion, with drawn sword pressed close against
his breast, stands over him.]
The Queen thou dost in thy mad boasts insult
Shall utter first thy doom!
—Ere we proceed
With graver matters, let this demon-knave
Be sent back home to hell.
With graver matters, let this demon-knave
Be sent back home to hell.
378
Give me the sword,—
The insult hath been mine—so even shall
The vengeance be!
The insult hath been mine—so even shall
The vengeance be!
[As Crestillomeem seizes sword and bends forward to strike, Jucklet, with superhuman effort, frees his hand, and, with a sudden motion and an incoherent muttering, flings object in his assailant's face,—Crestillomeem staggers backward, dropping sword, and, with arms tossed aloft, shrieks, totters and falls prone upon the pave. In confusion following Jucklet mysteriously vanishes; and as the bewildered Courtiers lift the fallen Queen, a clear, piercing voice of thrilling sweetness is heard singing.]
Voice
The pride of noon must wither soon—
The dusk of death must fall;
Yet out of darkest night the moon
Shall blossom over all!
[For an instant a dense cloud envelops empty throne —then gradually lifts, discovering therein Krung seated, in royal panoply and state, with Jucklet in act of presenting scepter to him.— Blare of trumpets, and chorus of Courtiers, Ministers, Heralds, etc.]
379
All hail! Long live the King!
Krung
[To throng, with grave salutation]
Through Æo's own great providence, and through
The intervention of an angel whom
I long had deemed forever lost to me,
Once more your favored Sovereign, do I greet
And tender you my blessing, O most good
And faith-abiding subjects of my realm!
In common, too, with your long-suffering King,
Have ye long suffered, blamelessly as he:
Now, therefore, know ye all what, until late,
He knew not of himself, and with him share
The rapturous assurance that is his,—
That, for all time to come, are we restored
To the old glory and most regal pride
And opulence and splendor of our realm.
[Turning with pained features to the strangely
stricken Queen]
The intervention of an angel whom
I long had deemed forever lost to me,
Once more your favored Sovereign, do I greet
And tender you my blessing, O most good
And faith-abiding subjects of my realm!
In common, too, with your long-suffering King,
Have ye long suffered, blamelessly as he:
Now, therefore, know ye all what, until late,
He knew not of himself, and with him share
The rapturous assurance that is his,—
That, for all time to come, are we restored
To the old glory and most regal pride
And opulence and splendor of our realm.
There have been, as ye needs must know, strange spells
And wicked sorceries at work within
The very dais boundaries of the Throne.
Lo! then, behold your harrier and mine,
And with me grieve for the self-ruined Queen
Who grovels at my feet, blind, speechless, and
So stricken with a curse herself designed
Should light upon Hope's fairest minister.
[Motions attendants, who lead away Crestillomeem
—the King gazing after her, overmastered
with stress of his emotions.—He leans
heavily on throne, as though oblivious to all
surroundings, and, shaping into speech his
varying thought, as in a trance, speaks as
though witless of both utterance and auditor.]
And wicked sorceries at work within
The very dais boundaries of the Throne.
Lo! then, behold your harrier and mine,
And with me grieve for the self-ruined Queen
380
So stricken with a curse herself designed
Should light upon Hope's fairest minister.
I loved her.—Why? I never knew.—Perhaps
Because her face was fair; perhaps because
Her eyes were blue and wore a weary air;—
Perhaps ... perhaps because her limpid face
Was eddied with a restless tide, wherein
The dimples found no place to anchor and
Abide: perhaps because her tresses beat
A froth of gold about her throat, and poured
In splendor to the feet that ever seemed
Afloat. Perhaps because of that wild way
Her sudden laughter overleapt propriety;
Or—who will say?—perhaps the way she wept.
Ho! have ye seen the swollen heart of summer
Tempest, o'er the plain, with throbs of thunder
Burst apart and drench the earth with rain? She
Wept like that.—And to recall, with one wild glance
Of memory, our last love-parting—tears
And all. ... It thrills and maddens me! And yet
My dreams will hold her, flushed from lifted brow
To finger-tips, with passion's ripest kisses
Crushed and mangled on her lips. ... O woman! while
Your face was fair, and heart was pure, and lips
Were true, and hope as golden as your hair,
I should have strangled you!
[As Krung, ceasing to speak, piteously lifts his
face, Spraivoll all suddenly appears, in space
left vacant by the Queen, and, kneeling, kisses
the King's hand.—He bends in tenderness,
kissing her brow—then lifts and seats her at
his side. Speaks then to throng.]
Because her face was fair; perhaps because
Her eyes were blue and wore a weary air;—
Perhaps ... perhaps because her limpid face
Was eddied with a restless tide, wherein
The dimples found no place to anchor and
Abide: perhaps because her tresses beat
A froth of gold about her throat, and poured
In splendor to the feet that ever seemed
Afloat. Perhaps because of that wild way
Her sudden laughter overleapt propriety;
Or—who will say?—perhaps the way she wept.
Ho! have ye seen the swollen heart of summer
Tempest, o'er the plain, with throbs of thunder
Burst apart and drench the earth with rain? She
Wept like that.—And to recall, with one wild glance
Of memory, our last love-parting—tears
381
My dreams will hold her, flushed from lifted brow
To finger-tips, with passion's ripest kisses
Crushed and mangled on her lips. ... O woman! while
Your face was fair, and heart was pure, and lips
Were true, and hope as golden as your hair,
I should have strangled you!
Good Subjects—Lords:
Behold in this sweet woman here my child,
Whom, years agone, the cold, despicable
Crestillomeem—by baleful, wicked arts
And gruesome spells and fearsome witcheries—
Did spirit off to some strange otherland,
Where, happily, a Wunkland Princess found
Her, and undid the spell by sorcery
More potent—ay, Divine, since it works naught
But good—the gift of Æo, to right wrong.
This magic dower the Wunkland Princess hath
Enlisted in our restoration here,
In secret service, till this joyful hour
Of our complete deliverance. Even thus.—
Lo, let the peerless Princess now appear!
Behold in this sweet woman here my child,
Whom, years agone, the cold, despicable
Crestillomeem—by baleful, wicked arts
And gruesome spells and fearsome witcheries—
Did spirit off to some strange otherland,
Where, happily, a Wunkland Princess found
Her, and undid the spell by sorcery
More potent—ay, Divine, since it works naught
But good—the gift of Æo, to right wrong.
This magic dower the Wunkland Princess hath
Enlisted in our restoration here,
In secret service, till this joyful hour
Of our complete deliverance. Even thus.—
Lo, let the peerless Princess now appear!
382
Jucklet
Ho! ho! but I could shriek for very joy!
And though my recent rival, fair Amphine,
Doth even now bend o'er a blossom, I,
Besprit me! have no lingering desire
To meddle with it, though with but one eye
I slept the while she backward walked around
Me in the garden.
[Amphine dubiously smiles—Jucklet blinks and leers—and Dwainie bites her finger.]
Krung
Peace! good Jucklet! Peace!
For this is not a time for any jest.—
Though the old order of our realm hath been
Restored, and though restored my very life—
Though I have found a daughter,—I have lost
383
Will, on the morrow, carry him away.
'Tis Æo's largess, as our love is His,
And our abiding trust and gratefulness.
Curtain
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |