 | Faustus : The Second Part |  |
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Peneios, Faustus, Nymphs, Cheiron, Manto.
Peneios.
Lull me still with thy faint whispers,
Soft sedge! sister reeds, sigh low!
Willow, wave with langourous breathing!
Poplars, ye, that tremble so,
Rocking still beside my stream,
Murmur back my broken dream!
A thick dense heat—a shudder dread,
Secret, through all nature spread,
Wakes me in my rolling bed.
Faustus.
Is it that my ear deceives?
Sure I heard behind the leaves
Other sounds than of the stream,
That like human accents seem:
Tittering among the trees—
Prattling ripple—laughing breeze.
Nymphs
(singing).
Weary and way-sore,
Oh! were it not best,
In the cool, for the tired limbs
To lie down and rest?
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The rest that would fly thee,
Enjoying the rest
That the world would deny thee;
While we lull thee, and soothe thee,
And linger close by thee.
Faustus.
Awake—I am awake—yes, yes!
I am awake! Fade not away,
Fair forms! but still pursue your play
Where my eye yonder shapes the scene.
Dreams are they?—are they memories?
How strange the feeling! All that is
Seems as though it before had been.
I am awake! Fade not away,
Fair forms! but still pursue your play
Where my eye yonder shapes the scene.
Dreams are they?—are they memories?
How strange the feeling! All that is
Seems as though it before had been.
Where the cool bowering copse-wood weaves
Its dance of agitated leaves,
I hear—scarce hear—the water's flow!
From all sides round, in hundred rills,
It ripples down, unites and fills
A clear bright space below,
Where, in a pure bed, nothing deep,
The crystal currents have their sleep.
Its dance of agitated leaves,
I hear—scarce hear—the water's flow!
From all sides round, in hundred rills,
It ripples down, unites and fills
A clear bright space below,
Where, in a pure bed, nothing deep,
The crystal currents have their sleep.
Nymphs bathing,—and from the moist glass we see,
Amused, of sleek young limbs the double gleam.
Grouped, swimming boldly, wading timidly.
Hark! splash of water; laugh, and shriek, and scream!
Amused, of sleek young limbs the double gleam.
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Hark! splash of water; laugh, and shriek, and scream!
This were enough to satisfy
And charm the fascinated eye;
But the sense onward, onward still would press,
Would pierce with searching glance the screen
Of the rich bower, whose green recess
Conceals the lofty Queen.
And charm the fascinated eye;
But the sense onward, onward still would press,
Would pierce with searching glance the screen
Of the rich bower, whose green recess
Conceals the lofty Queen.
Strange! very strange! and swans, swans too are here!
Majestically borne from cove and creek,
In slumber-seeming motion on they steer.
Companionable, kindly; but what pride!
Contemplating the softened image of
Breast snow-white, stately head, and arching neck,
As though with their own lovely forms in love,
O'er the still mirror peacefully they glide.
Majestically borne from cove and creek,
In slumber-seeming motion on they steer.
Companionable, kindly; but what pride!
Contemplating the softened image of
Breast snow-white, stately head, and arching neck,
As though with their own lovely forms in love,
O'er the still mirror peacefully they glide.
And one before the rest,
Bold with expanded breast,
Moves with imperial dignity and grace:
His feathers, roughed out wide—wave on the waves—
Thro' snowy foam that his white plumage laves,
He presses to the dear, the dedicated place.
And see the rest—reposing light illumes,
While to and fro they float, their tranquil plumes.
And lo! they rouse them; see! the splendid strife:
Fain would they chase away these maidens coy,
Whose mistress, can she now their thoughts employ?
Their one thought is security—is life!
Bold with expanded breast,
Moves with imperial dignity and grace:
His feathers, roughed out wide—wave on the waves—
Thro' snowy foam that his white plumage laves,
He presses to the dear, the dedicated place.
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While to and fro they float, their tranquil plumes.
And lo! they rouse them; see! the splendid strife:
Fain would they chase away these maidens coy,
Whose mistress, can she now their thoughts employ?
Their one thought is security—is life!
NYMPHS.
Sisters, listen! lay your ear
To the river's green marge here.
Do I hear, or do I dream,
Sound of horses' hoofs that seem
Swift as of a courier's flight
Bringing tidings of the night?
FAUSTUS.
Shocks, as of leaping thunder!
Earth! will it spring asunder?
Nearer and nearer now, and ringing loud
Under the quick feet of a courser proud.
Thither, mine eye, glance thither! Favouring Fate!
Is it to be? Am I the Fortunate?
Wonder unparalleled! and will it be?
A rider gallops hither. In his air
What courage! what intelligence is there!
Borne by a courser white—blindingly bright.
I err not; 'tis no mockery of the sight.
It is, it is the son of Philyra.
Halt, Cheiron! halt! I have much to say to thee.
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What say'st? what is't?
Faustus.
A moment check thy pace.
Cheiron.
I rest not.
Faustus.
Take me.
Cheiron.
Up! then. As we race,
You may give me the happiness of knowing
What you're about, and which way you are going.
We're on the bank; I'll take you 'cross the river.
Faustus.
Oh! as for that, I'll go whithersoever
You go.
And I must thank thee evermore,
Noblest of men, whose fame 'tis to have taught
The Heroes of the glorious days of yore,
The Poet's world of Chief and Argonaut.
Cheiron.
Pass over that—Pallas's own success
When she played Mentor could not well be less.
'Tis little matter what is taught, men will,
Taught or untaught, go on the same way still.
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Physician, learned in names of herbs and fruits,
Who to the very deepest knowest all roots;
Wounds thou dost mitigate, and sick men cheer,
In Spirit and in Body art thou here?
Cheiron.
Was a man wounded, I was in a trice
Upon the field with aid and with advice.
What I did, much or little, anyhow
The herb-women and priests inherit now.
Faustus.
There spoke the genuine great man, who disclaims
Peculiar merit in his acts or aims;
And though of all in every way the best,
'Gainst any praise still enters his protest.
Cheiron.
You seem to me a flatterer of skill,
A practised hand in winding at your will
People and prince.
Faustus.
But, tell me,—you have seen
The great men of your time, and you have been
Rival, in everything that wins man's praise
Of the very noblest, didst live out thy days
True Hero, Demigod,—say in thy thoughts
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Then figuring on earth 'mong men, seemed best.
Cheiron.
In the high circle of the Argonauts,
Each, as the soul breathed power, distinction held;
Each in his own peculiar path excelled.
The Dioscuri brothers won their way
Where youthful bloom and manly beauty sway;
In the Boreades, for others' weal
Sprang instant action from determined zeal.
A thoughtful man, strong, energetic, clear,
Such was Prince Jason, to the ladies dear.
And tender Orpheus swayed the lyre—calm heart
Was his—and his true miracles of art.
Sharp-sighted Lynceus, he by day and dark,
Through rock and strand steered safe the holy bark.
In danger's hour true brotherhood is shown,
Each works, and all praise each. Each works alone.
Faustus.
Will you say nothing then of Hercules?
Cheiron.
Oh! call not back that feeling, wake thou not
The longing for the old days that have been.
Phœbus or Hermes I had never seen,
Or Ares, or the rest; in Hercules
The god-like stood before these eyes of mine
Impersonated—all that of divine
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All the mind imaged or the heart believed!
A king by Nature made. What dignity
In youth's first bloom!—How gentle, too, was he!
Gave to his elder brother service true,
And loved the ladies with devotion due.
Son such as he will never more be given
By Earth for Hebe to lead up to heaven;
Songs all in vain to make him known,
Would strive, and sculptors torture stone.
Faustus.
Never did sculptor, labour as he might,
Bring out such perfect image to the sight
Of that imperial look, that god-like mind.
But now that the most beautiful of men
You thus have showed me, try your hand again
With the most beautiful of womankind.
Cheiron.
What? Woman's Beauty?—The words, thus combined,
Seem meaningless,—the shape of faultless mould
Too often a stiff image, marble-cold.
Only the Being, whose glad life flows free,
And sheds around it the perpetual cheer
Of joyousness, hath interest for me.
The Beautiful in its own placid sphere
Rests all apart. Grace charms resistlessly,
As Helen, when I carried her, and she—
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You—carried—her?
Cheiron.
Yes—I—upon this back.
Faustus.
Was there not hitherto perplexity
Enough? What more?—here sitting where she sate.
Cheiron.
She grasped into my hair, as you do now.
Faustus.
My brain whirls round—oh! tell me when and how
It was. She is my sole desire; say when
And whence, and whither, whither?
Cheiron.
The Dioscuri brothers had just freed
Their little sister from the spoiler's hand;
And now upon their homeward road they speed.
Again the robbers pluck up courage, and
The brothers, with whom Helena then was,
Would clear Eleusis' swamp in rapid flight:
They waded, and I, pawing, swam across.
Then sprang she off, and my moist mane she smoothed,
Patted me with her fondling hand, and soothed.
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Such self-possession, such calm consciousness!
She was,—how charming!—young and the delight
Of the aged.
Faustus.
Then just seven years old, not quite
Seven.
Cheiron.
What! the philologues have been with you,
Puzzling your brains, themselves deceiving too;
Your Mythologic lady has no age,
Is from her very birth-time all the rage.
Like nothing but herself: in childhood carried
By spoilers off—recovered—wooed—won—married.
Years but increase her charms, bring lovers plenty;
She's never old—nay, never comes to twenty.
Lovely, and to be loved! The Poet seizes
The fair form and does with her what he pleases.
The Poet is not bound by time or distance.
Faustus.
Time for her! time then can have no existence.
And so Achilles found her—Time the while
Ceasing to be—on Leuke's lonely isle.
Strange hap was theirs of blissful ecstacy—
Love wrung from unrelenting Destiny!
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Charm into life that deathless form again—
Eternal as the gods? Yes! Gentleness
And winning Grace are hers, and not the less
Hers the calm sway of Dignity serene.
You saw long since whom I to-day have seen.
And She is Beautiful. 'Tis not the spell,
'Tis not the spell of Gracefulness alone—
'Tis Beauty, Beauty irresistible!
We see, we love, we long to make our own.
With her enraptured Soul, Sense, Being twine—
I have no life if Helen be not mine.
Cheiron.
Stranger! this rapture men would call the flame
Of Love; with Spirits madness is its name.
'Tis lucky that the fit has seized you here,
And on this night, of all nights of the year;
It is my wont each year, upon this night,
For one short moment in my circling flight,
To visit Manto, Æsculapius' child,
Who in her father's temple, priestess there,
Still lifts her supplicating hands in prayer,
That he illumine the physician's mind,
And from their rash destroyers save mankind—
The best loved of the sibyls' guild; no wild
Mad raving there, but ever good and mild.
Health will come soon from simples of the field
Applied by her.
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But I would not be healed;
My mind is now all-powerful. Dispossessed
I sink to man, no better than the rest.
Cheiron.
In the noble fount is healing—scorn it not.
Now, down! Down quickly! we are at the spot.
Faustus.
Whither hast brought me in the gray of night,
Landing me in the plash and pebbles here?
Cheiron.
See! on the left Olympus. On the right
Peneios. Here strove Rome and Greece in fight;
A mighty kingdom melts in sand away—
The Monarch's flight—the Burgher's triumph-day.
The Eternal Temple resting in the clear
Light of the moon stands out—how very near!
Manto
(dreaming, from within).
This a something doth import.
Threshold rings, and temple-court,
Horses' footfalls echoing.
Demigods are entering.
Cheiron.
All's right! Open your eyes, and see all's right.
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(awaking).
Welcome! I see you have not missed the night.
Cheiron.
Unfallen still stands your ancient temple-home!
Manto.
Unweariable you still range and roam!
Cheiron.
You rest in changeless bower of quiet deep,
And I in everlasting circuit sweep.
Manto.
I tarry—round Me still wheels rolling Time.
But—this man—
Cheiron.
The mad night hath seized him in
Its whirls, up flung him in its sludge and slime;
And Helen—madman—Helen he would win,
And knows not how or where he should begin.
With Æsculapian aid he may do well.
Manto.
I love him who desires th'Impossible.
[Cheiron is already far off.
Manto
(to Faustus).
Onward! Adventurous! with joy proceed!
Enter in boldly! Down the dark path speed
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Beneath Olympus, where with longing eyes
She seeks the smile of interdicted skies.
There did I smuggle Orpheus in of old.
Fare better thou! Be Fortunate! Be Bold!
[They descend.
| Faustus : The Second Part | |