University of Virginia Library

Scene VII.—Cloud, crag, and precipice, above a stormy sea.
Orval
(still ascending).
Where is she? Whither fleeted, on the wind
That whips me through this wither'd waste? Where am I?
Have they a name for men to know them by,
These desert steeps, . . . . Calpe, or Caucasus,
Atlas, or utmost Thule's mountain-tops
Mark'd on no mariner's chart? One thing is sure;
That never, even in dream, I trod, before,
The dreadful pavement of this dizzy path
That winds I know not where: never beheld
The broken margent of that savage sea
That in his beachèd basin, far below,
Boils like Hell's cauldron; nor yon livid peak
Peering and disappearing through those gaps
Of restless cloud, tormented by the wind.
How horribly the huge stone's solid bulk
Seems hovering in the gust above my head!
Fierce as Death's altar, wreathed for sacrifice
With snaky shapes that round it, gaping, twine.
And what are they? Troops of pale ghostly priests,
Or but fantastic vapours, sweeping round
With hooded heads, and waving arms? whose dance
About their dismal altar floats in time
To . . . what low humming sound of surly song
Comes from the abyss to cheer them? Am I, then,
The victim these are waiting? the one thing
Yet wanting to complete their ghastly rites?
I care not. I must on. Here is no rest.
Already have I cross'd the groaning tract
Of thunder, that with dense blue drench blots all
The blighted plain out. Far beneath me, borne
About these fang'd and crooked crags, I hear
Faint noises only, as ever and anon
Between black sullen shores of gulfy cloud
There runs, and breaks, and falls, a pallid sea
Of momentary fire. Still on! still on!
The few lean firs, and solitary pines,
That struggled, few and fewer, as on I pass'd,
To keep pace with me, all have fallen away.
I have outstript them, scarcely heeding how
They stopp'd aghast, dejected, gazing where
They dared not clamber. Nature's self cried ‘Halt!
I can no further go!’ Yet on went I,
And still must on,—still on, while aught is left
Above me where man's foot may tread. Still on!

A Voice in the air.
Follow!

Orval.
I follow.

The Voice.
Haste!

Orval.
Where art thou?

The Voice.
Here.

Orval.
Ever beyond!

The Voice.
Hither to me!

Orval.
At last
Behold the summit! Further pathway noae
To foot of man, beyond the utmost edge
Of this sheer precipice, earth's reach'd end vouchsafes.
Here must I rest. Here where, save stormy winds,
None ever mounted. Leagues below me, wheels
The wild sea eagle in his highest flight.
Higher than Babel's builders ever built
I have attain'd.

Voice in the air.
Hither to me!

Orval.
Where art thou?

The Voice.
I wait thee, O my lover!

Orval.
But far off
Thou art already. And I cannot pass
Where pathway none can be. Nor from myself
Spin, spiderlike, a passage through the vast
And vacant air to reach thee. I have climb'd
The sudden sidewall of the world. Beyond
Is nothing but the abyss.

Another Voice
(nearer, and louder).
Where are thy wings?

Orval.
Already dost thou flout me, mocking fiend?

The Second Voice.
Is not thy soul immortal, infinite,
As thy desire, which on a single thought
Can soar beyond the battlements of space,
And, swifter than the speed of shooting stars,
Traverse the empyrean? Yet dost thou cling,
Fear's captive, to some few bare inches left
Of Earth's base dust? What! art thou Earth's at last,
Poor cowering piece of most presumptuous clay,
That would'st have only Heaven? Advance! advance!
Why dost thou shrink? Stopp'd by a little stone,
Scared by a passing wind! Ha, doth thy flesh
Shiver, thy bones ache, in the buffeting blast,
Great Spirit? searcher of the unsearchable,
Climber of the inaccessible! Dost fear?
Dost falter? thou, the undaunted!

Orval.
Insolent voice,
I falter not. Show but thyself. Appear
In any form however horrible!
Take substance, and confront me! Leave thy lair
In the loose element . . . come forth . . . approach,
That I may crush thee! Dare me to the endeavour,
And if I quail before thee, never more
May I behold the beauty I would embrace!
I fear thee not.

The First Voice.
Lean on me. Take my hand,
And it shall guide thee.

(The Phantom of the Voice appears beyond the precipice.)
Orval.
Heaven and earth! . . . . Fast, fast,
The flowers from off those glorious tresses fall,
And turn themselves to venomous crawling things,
With bloated pouches, and thick-speckled skins,
And fangs that flicker on the clammy crag!

The Phantom.
Haste, O my lover, haste! I wait thee. Come!

Orval.
Great God! . . . What hideous whirlwind shakes, and rends
To rags, the shuddering splendour of that robe?

The Phantom.
Hither to me! Why dost thou linger? Come,
My wooer, my wild lover, my bright lord!

Orval.
The whirling sleet is white on her wet hair.
How bony grows the beauty of that breast!

The Phantom.
Hast thou forgot thy vow? Art thou not mine?
Come, traitor! Come!

Orval.
O horrible! horrible!
The sudden lightning hath stabb'd out her eyes.

Voice
(wailing away).
Blind! blind for evermore! Eternal dark!

Voices of Evil Spirits
(in the whirlwind).
Away now, thou ancient damnation!
Thy task is accomplisht. Farewell!
Return to thine old habitation,
And abide in the nethermost Hell.
Gone is the robe we gave thee,
Crumbled thy crown:
Never a prayer can save thee.
Drop, though it cannot lave thee,
Into Lethe! Down, and drown!
And thou, dost thou shrink, the unshrinking?
Descend! Thou hast mounted in vain.
For each mariner shipwreckt, and sinking,
There is room in the infinite main.
Others, ere thou, have striven
And fail'd. Not first
Nor last art thou, to whom Heaven,
For the profit of Hell, hath given
The pride that in Hell is curst.

Orval.
My God, for this then am I lost—that I,
The earth-born, have unearthly beauty loved
Better than all earth gave me? follow'd this,
Trusted in this, suffer'd for this! for this,
Forsaking all, am I forsaken now
By that for which all else I have forsaken?
Defrauded by I know not what false fiend
Whose form was like an angel's fashion'd!

Voices of Evil Spirits.
Stay!
This fool hath yet a word to say,
Lest God hear him, still be near him!
We are watching for our prey.
The soul that hath woo'd her is blind
As the Hell that hath won our wan elf.
The wonder was he of mankind,
Who in wonderment worshipt himself;
And still, though the idol he worshipt be
Broken, unbrokenly worships he.
Prate on! we hear thee exulting,
Add folly to folly, and sin
To sin, proud fool, insulting
The Heaven thou could'st not win.
That Heaven lay near thee, and round thee.
Thou hadst but to enter, and dwell
Content in the Paradise found thee,
And barter'd by thee for Hell.

Orval.
For this, you unjust skies? for this . . . . Vain! vain!
The last hour locks me round. The surcharged blast
Spouts blinding storm. The wroth sea roars, and rises
Higher and higher, as though the dead men's hearts
Were heaving underneath it. Rock by rock,
The ruin'd land sinks: and a fervid light,
More dismal than all blackest blackness, burns
The withering world's red shrivell'd edges bare
Of aught save that strange horror which begins
Where all else ends. It rises still, that sea!
White fire, and whirling water, and hissing wind,
And crackling crag, in one red gulf of Hell
Confounded, and, confounding all things else!
Merciless and o'erwhelming elements,
Man never was your master! Unseen hands
Are hugging me. And on my shoulder hangs
The dragging fiend. Help! help, thou Heavenly One!

Evil Spirits.
Sons of the Father of lies,
Rejoice! we have play'd for, and won him.
He struggles, and groans, and cries:
But the weight of our falsehood is on him.
Round him and over him
Hover, and cover him,
Baffle, bewilder, and drag him down!
If he should break from the net we throw for him,
Still shall we know him again for our own.
Our mark he beareth,
Wherever he fareth:
We have bitten it deeper than flesh and bone:
Tears though he weep on it,
Tears shall but deepen it,
Tears that bewail what they cannot atone!
Time shall harden it,
Lest God pardon it.
When we return for him so shall we find him.
Shatter the spell now! Unblind, unbind him,
Loosen, and launch him, and leave him alone!

Orval.
The strife is futile. My brain breaks. The abyss
Lays out long hands upon me. Ah, at last
My soul sees clear. At last, and yet too late!
Omnipotent one, must it be ever thus,
And ever shall Thy Foe triumphant be?

Guardian Angel
(passing above).