Prince Lucifer By Alfred Austin |
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| V. | ACT V |
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 | Prince Lucifer |  |
ACT V
SCENE I
[The Village Street.]1ST PEASANT.
Are you bound on this Pilgrimage?
2D PEASANT.
Not I, sooth! Footsore enough, without trudging two leagues out, and two back, trolling litanies, and a day's work wasted.
3D PEASANT.
Aye, and to find mildew has made a fresh pilgrimage through one's rye. What work can't mend, praying won't end.
4TH PEASANT.
But Father Gabriel says we should pray and work as well.
1ST PEASANT.
Prince Lucifer neither prays nor works, and look how he prospers! His Lady of Good Help is his sweetheart, Eve; and they go on pilgrimages
2D PEASANT.
All round's a long way.
3D PEASANT.
And a year's a long spell; and it must be a year, come this threshing, since they went. I saw them yesterday on the bridge over the Visp; and the sun seemed to be shining all over the faces of both of them.
4TH PEASANT.
Happiness is short, eternity's long; and, when life sets, maybe for them there'll be eternal darkness.
5TH PEASANT.
Well, they'll have had their life and their sunshine, and that's more than any of us can say. As for the rest, what is it but guessing? A flagon on the table is worth a tun in the cellar; more so, when you haven't got the key.
2D PEASANT.
They seem to be making ready to start.
1ST PEASANT.
Women and children, mostly. Praying is medicine to women; they never lose a chance. Church festivals are like fine clothes; they can't resist them. Lord! how tired they'll be before they get back!
3D PEASANT.
They wouldn't think it a pilgrimage, if they weren't. But for the pleasure women get out of pain, there would be mighty little of it for them in this world.
5TH PEASANT.
Look at the little ones, as eager as bees going to swarm. Both my lasses are among them. If Heaven doesn't hear such voices, then I give up Heaven.
6TH PEASANT.
They are happy, anyway. Singing and pilgrimaging are holiday to their young hearts. Singing and pilgrimaging are not like school or sermon; they can't be catechised about them. It's not till they begin to work that life means something; though what it means, it wants a wiser head than mine to say. Is Elspeth going?
1ST PEASANT.
Surely. Why shouldn't she? She hasn't much else to do, now her grand husband's away. Does any one know when he's coming back?
2D PEASANT.
Rich folks come and go, as it pleases them. Ladyday and Lammas are all one to them. But when he does come, you'll see he'll bring presents for Elspeth in one hand, and in the other offerings for Father Gabriel. He never says no to anything Father Gabriel asks.
3D PEASANT.
But Father Gabriel takes care not to ask too much. You never see Count Abdiel in the Confessional or at the Communion rail. He leaves that to Elspeth, and buys indulgences for himself with new chasubles and dalmatics. Yet one genuflection's more real than a hundred gifts.
1ST PEASANT.
Maybe it is; but folks with full hands were always welcome in the sacristy.
SCENE II
[The interior of the Church. Father Gabriel praying before the Altar.]FATHER GABRIEL.
The blood is flowing down Thy side,
The cruel nails are in their place,
Where pale Thou hangest crucified.
Upon Thy brow the Crown of Thorn;
Nor John nor Magdalen is near;
But soldier's gibe and rabble's scorn,
The sponge, the hyssop, and the spear.
Abandon not my flock forlorn!
What shall I do if Thou forget
Thy agony, Thy bloody sweat,
Thy swooning in Gethsemane?
O tend them now as, on that morn,
When Thou in Bethlehem wast born,
Thy spotless Mother tended Thee!
SCENE III
[The open space in front of the Church. Women and children standing in groups.]1ST MATRON.
Our Lady of Good Help has sent us a fine day.
2D MATRON.
She couldn't do less, when we have donned our best clothes, and her shrine's so far.
3D MATRON.
Wast ever there?
4TH MATRON.
Aye, once, after my first-born teethed. I thought I was going to lose him. But I carried my ear-rings to the Shrine, and there isn't a tougher lad in all these hills. But it did seem a long stretch, footing it all alone. To-day, with such gay company, 'twill be short enough.
5TH MATRON.
The company'll be ourselves, mostly. The men folk won't come; only a few o' the old ones, who'll never get half way.
OLD CRONE.
'Twas always so, since there were men and women. Women must do the praying, or the Saints would have a holiday time of it. When I was young and lush, the men troubled Heaven once a year or so; the rest of the twelvemonth, they paid their devotions to us, and got more quickly answered, maybe. But there were better seasons then.
1ST MATRON.
There's where it is! Father Gabriel has promised sunshine and dry weather so often, when we've had nothing but rain and cold straight on, folks have given up asking. They repaired the old font, and bought the new thurible from Lyons, and the barley-straw has threshed out poorer than ever.
2D MATRON.
But if the Saints didn't know best, what 'ud be the good of praying? Even the Madonna can't be expected always to say yes.
3D MATRON.
Aye, and when She's angry with us, ever since Eve stained herself.
4TH MATRON.
But why should we suffer because she enjoys? That's what my man asks.
OLD CRONE.
Enjoys now. She'll suffer sharp enough when her bones wax old.
5TH MATRON.
Then why can't Heaven wait to punish her, instead of punishing other folks before their time?
6TH MATRON.
Sure enough, she has a good time of it here, let what will come after. The Prince doats on her; and now she's a mother, and has nothing to do but coo over her babeling, she may well have no ear for the Trump of Judgment.
1ST MATRON.
Well, well, there ought to be a real good Paradise for honest women, some day; for babes are not much comfort down here, nor the fathers of them neither. Work and worry, worry and work! Please the Madonna, it'll be different elsewhere.
2D MATRON.
See! here comes Father Gabriel. We must all get into our places; the children in front, and we hindmost. Who'll help with this banner?
OLD CRONE.
God speed all! I could have pilgrimaged with the smartest of you once. But no limb so lissom but Time makes a cripple of it!
[The Procession, headed by Father Gabriel, starts on the pilgrimage, singing.]SCENE IV
Prince Lucifer.(alone among the hills).
Peak beyond peak, summit to summit leading,
And mortal hopes aspiring, ended never,
Which, like to storms conceived in mountain womb,
But in annihilation find their rest.
Yet there is living rest, but only when
The heart alights on home, and perches there
In fixed felicity. . . . My love! my kingdom!
Whilom I left her trifling with her babe,
No queen so happy, save the queen a mother,
And then, by queenship vexed. But she! But I!
We two, we one, containing each the other,
Among the spacious undistracting hills,
Attended by the torrents in our progress,
With thunder and by avalanche acclaimed,
Crowned with our own companionship, Royal pair!
Unit with unit blending! More than that
But breeds division. One is solitude,
Two are society, and three a crowd.
Club mortals by the thousand, then, what chaos!
They, if a servile flock, have many shepherds,
Can pen them in one fold? I thought mine could,
And made thought suckle hope. My mountain lamb
Hath but one track, divined by following mine.
The harvest of the world is in love's arms,
Which circle all things; arms so white, so warm,
White as the snow yet melting as the sun,
And kisses like the raindrops of the Spring,
A shower of odours! Paragoned with these,
All Principalities and Powers are nothing,
Even if one could rule them. But a King!
A modern King! the subject of his subjects!
The sorriest sea-churl in a keel that rides
Atop of insurrectionary waves,
Is more a Monarch!
What is a Realm? As much as one can rule.
But without harmony no rule can be.
My kingdom and my mind were out of tune;
While my converted shepherdess and I,
High above Superstition's jangling voice,
Make faultless music of our lives. That—that—
Is rule, and realm, and throne enough for me;
And so, withal, I triumph.
SCENE V
[A Chamber in Castle Tourbillon.]EVE.
(singing to her baby).
Pink little feet!
Dimpled all over,
Sweet, sweet, sweet!
What dost thou wail for?
The unknown? the unseen?
The ills that are coming,
The joys that have been?
Closer and closer,
Till the pain that is purer
Hath banished the grosser.
Drain, drain at the stream, love,
Thy hunger is freeing,
That was born in a dream, love,
Along with thy being!
For their home on my breast;
Little lips that appeal
For their nurture, their rest!
Why, why dost thou weep, dear?
Nay, stifle thy cries,
Till the dew of thy sleep, dear,
Lies soft on thine eyes.
Elspeth!
ELSPETH.
Dear Eve! How glad I am I find you,
And find you thus, your baby at your breast.
Is it great joy?
EVE.
The greatest of all joys.
ELSPETH.
As great as love?
EVE.
Yes, greater even than love,
As giving is than taking. Nothing makes
Loving is rapture, motherhood is pain,
Surpassing pleasure in its poignancy;
As bitter sweet is sweeter than mere sweet,
For savouring sharper.
ELSPETH.
What a cherub face!
Peaceful as all we dream and hope of Heaven.
EVE.
Think you so, dear? It has been peevish lately,
As though some maggot fed within the bud
I cannot open. Now it sleeps so still.
It was awake a moment ere you came.
ELSPETH.
Nay, do not rouse it. I have things to tell,
Which, though they sadden me, may gladden you.
EVE.
Those were strange things indeed.
ELSPETH.
And strange they are.
Our Lady of Good Help?
EVE.
Yes, know it well,
A place of pilgrimage for simple souls.
ELSPETH.
And simply went they there three days agone,
Matrons and maids, with Father Gabriel,
And I among them, singing litanies,
And chanting sacred hymns, in hope to stay
The deluge from the sky that drowns the fields,
And will not be abated.
EVE.
On that day,
I roamed with Lucifer from nine till noon,
Till by my suckling homeward I was drawn,
And sunshine o'er our heads, as in our hearts,
Accompanied our way. Later, the thunder
Kept rumbling distantly.
ELSPETH.
That was the storm
I seem to see it still, to hear it still.
We reached the Shrine, footsore and faint, but full
Of holy longings, cheerful, confident,
Fell on our knees, and lifted up our voices,
And praised our Mother of Help, when, lo! a flash
Ripped up the sky and zigzagged down the air,
And smote our Blessëd Mother on the face,
And hurled Her black and shattered to our feet.
For all had started up, and each one looked
To learn if chance the others were alive.
EVE.
Who, who was killed?
ELSPETH.
None, dear, except our hopes,
Except our prayers. But there is worse than that.
For Father Gabriel wanders all forlorn,
And no one heeds him now. His trembling hands
Uplift a lonely chalice, and his voice
Prays 'mong the deaf memorials of the dead,
No active ear attending. Agëd crones,
Too old to change, with shuffling footsteps come
Up to the flowerless chancel, but to make
The women drudge in silence. If they speak,
They do so to contrast their lot with yours,
Envying your happiness.
EVE.
Poor Father Gabriel!
He was so good to me. . . . Sleep, darling, sleep!
Back into peace again! 'Tis thus it wails,
Whene'er it wakes. Yes, now it sleeps again.
A gloomy tale! I wonder what it means.
It stirs a dread confusion in the mind.
Wait! I will go tell Lucifer, and bring
His understanding to our help.
ELSPETH.
No, do not!
He is so wise, so tranquil in his wisdom,
He frightens me.
EVE.
So did he me at first,
As lambs are frightened when the shepherd weans
Their habit from the dugs that have run dry,
Bleating all day. But now I graze in peace
And tell him your strange news; he, he will clear
Our hearts from terror, with the very tale
That now appals us.
ELSPETH.
You, his pupil, dear,
Be you my tutor. You are nearer to me.
He is so far off, I should lose his voice,
Straining to catch it.
EVE.
When you doubt or fear,
Does not Count Abdiel help you?
ELSPETH.
With a smile,
That helps me not, but only makes me feel
I am too weak for strength to strengthen me.
He bids me pray, himself neglecting prayer,
And says 'tis best so.
EVE.
Are you happy, thus?
Am I not married, and what other joy
Hath life for womenkind?
EVE.
The joy I have!
The joy of love's fast covenant.
ELSPETH.
How is that fast
Which either he or you can break at will?
EVE.
That alone breaks which doubting ties too tight.
When does Count Abdiel return? And why
Do you not cheer his journey?
ELSPETH.
Should I cheer it?
My halting understanding seems a clog
On his enjoyment.
EVE.
That should not be so.
Love leaps to its conclusions, leaving out
Whatever Lucifer sees, feel what he feels,
Rejoice in whatso joy rejoiceth him.
ELSPETH.
You love each other.
[She kneels at Eve's side.]
If I had a babe,
Just such an one as this, it might breed love;
If not, I then could live in my content,
Spending my heart and wanting no return,
As you ask none from this poor infancy.
EVE.
Nay, you are loved, be sure. You are made for love;
You are so fair.
ELSPETH.
It seemed so once; but now,
I were no worse, being foul.
EVE.
But, child, there are
So many ways of loving.
Child, yourself!
If you think that. No! no! there is but one;
You know it, too; you speak to comfort me.
Love is the sum of all desires; withhold
But one ingredient from expectancy,
How poor and flat and tasteless is the draught!
It is the volume of man's love that sways
Our passive inclinations, and he rules
Supreme o'er our submission only when
Anon his tenderness to fierceness flows,
And then his fierceness ebbs to tenderness;
Tide of contented but eternal longing.
EVE.
My heart says “Yes” to that, but it is sad
You know so much.
ELSPETH.
Having so little!
EVE.
Hark!
How loud it thunders!
Thunders as it did,
Just ere the Statue fell.
EVE.
Oh! What a flash!
[She covers up her babe.]
It played about his head.
ELSPETH.
I must be gone
Before the storm breaks.
EVE.
Wait till it hath passed.
ELSPETH.
It will not pass. The Heavens, incensed afresh,
Shower vengeance copiously. Rain, rain! more rain!
Poor Father Gabriel!
EVE.
See, dear! Take him these
[She gives Elspeth the flowers that are in the room.]
And say Eve sent them; Eve who loves him always,
I gathered them, myself.
ELSPETH.
(Bending over the child).
One parting kiss!
I will not wake it. There!
EVE.
Come soon again,
And tell me all. Yes, mind you tell me all;
And—well, no more: I go to Lucifer.
You will not stay? Make haste then, for the storm
Is nigh to bursting.
ELSPETH.
'Tis a quick descent.
Be happy, sweet. But what a wasteful wish!
For happiness lies anchored in your lap.
[Elspeth departs, and Eve goes to seek Prince Lucifer.]
THE MATTERHORN.
They need the dew of the cool dusk night and the warm soft rain,
And open mid-way betwixt deep delight and the peaks of pain.
About them floateth a longing faint, and a perfume frail,
And their uttermost joy is but half-restraint, and a stifled wail.
And soon they are joined with the bygone hours, with the bygone breeze.
He sees and plucks them, and savours awhile, then he flings away,
And forgets their freshness, their fragrance, their smile, till death's dark day.
Then they, they revive for their fierce false lover, and close his eyes,
And over him tenderly linger and hover, as he dies, as he dies.
A cradle somewhere among my crags, to rock her to peace.
Where awaking she heard the cattle low and the sheep bells peal,
And lulled in my lap might feel and know what I know and feel.
But she never can fathom nor span it, she never will know;
She will weep, and but think that my heart is granite, my head is snow.
SCENE VI
[The Terrace of Castle Tourbillon.]EVE.
How slow along the dial creep the hands!
Think you they soon will come?
LUCIFER.
They should be here.
Shall I go meet them, urging speedier speed?
Leave me not, love! I would not be alone.
Tell me again: are they renowned for skill?
LUCIFER.
More skilful could not be. No greater names
Practise the healing or the saving art.
EVE.
And they will save it?
LUCIFER.
Be convinced of that.
Another hour at most, your fears will fade,
As fades yon sunset light.
EVE.
I am so grieved
For Father Gabriel. But it was not we
Who marred his pilgrimage? I cannot put
The recollection from me.
LUCIFER.
If we strove
To prove, as he doth, Heaven is on our side,
Would serve for such a sermon!
EVE.
Might he not
Plead, as he used to plead, that Heaven is wroth?
LUCIFER.
With whom? With what it smites? With what it spares?
If thunderstorms are angry, mostly, dear,
They vex themselves in vain. Grant them a mind,
Their conscious fury should have winged a bolt
Straight at the towers of Castle Tourbillon,
Not at that blameless Shrine.
EVE.
Perhaps they wait,
Looking their thought before they utter it.
Who knows?
LUCIFER.
Then let us deem not that we know,
Fooling the very question that we ask.
Gods that could angered be were scarcely gods.
If they exist, or Many or One, our ways
If will they have, or only, like ourselves,
Follow some Past, which, though we call it gone,
Acts as a dragging force upon the Present.
EVE.
If they exist? And if they have a will?
This May-be or May-not-be makes my heart
Ask questions of my head it does not answer.
I can remember Father Gabriel say,
Who doubt in life believe before they die,
Because within the sky light lingereth still,
Though Earth be darkened. . . . See! If you should die,
How could I ever then submit to death,
And own him as my lord? Love would not take
The final answer from his surly lips,
But shape its own reply.
LUCIFER.
I am alive;
And while I live, concern you not with death.
EVE.
But if you died? Or if my babe should die?
Were but a—
LUCIFER.
Hark!
EVE.
Yes! yes! they come! they come!
Was I impatient? Then forgive me; for
You run before my wishes.
LUCIFER.
One kiss more!
O, you are sweet as is the honeysuckle,
Fragrant and clinging! Clasp me closer still,
Nor ever let me know the woe 'twould be
To want such sweetness!
SCENE VII
[The Churchyard in the Village. Adam is looking at an open grave. Father Gabriel comes out of his house.]FATHER GABRIEL.
Dig no more graves within the churchyard, Adam.
Their unbelieving corpses shall not taint
The carrion kestrel, or the slouching wolf,
Batten upon their dregs, and cram its maw
With soulless offal! Dig you no more graves.
ADAM.
This one was opened ere you closed the Church:
An uncommissioned grave. 'Twas habit, Father,
That made me delve it. When all else is slack,
My shovel finds me custom, and my stock
Runs out at length; for graves, though ready made,
Will fit us all as if first measured for them.
This is a pretty and a shapely grave.
FATHER GABRIEL.
No one shall fill it. I have stripped the altar,
Made of the sacristy a lumber chamber.
The candles are unlighted, and the lamp
Within the sanctuary stares as blank
As this unleasëd sepulchre. Leave it so,
This gaping tomb, as you have fashioned it,
This open door through which they shall not pass
Till they have staunched the wounds of Christ, and grovelled
Before the heavenly sorrow of their guilt.
Their thoughts have left repentance, and devise
An earthly reparation for the wrong.
Fancying Prince Lucifer secretes the wealth
That would redress their poverty, they plan
How to unearth it.
FATHER GABRIEL.
Let them meet and shock,
With Heaven no more between them to assuage
The fury of their unregenerate wills.
Let them take all he has,—his wealth, his wanton,
And let him learn how men and women fare,
Bare of the shield of God! And mind you, Adam!
Hollow you graves on the cold mountain side,
Among the stony bowels of the rock,
Or in the shingle of the foul moraine;
Not here, not here, I say. Why, any cur
Can foul an altar; but the dog's a dog,
Not God reversed by its impiety.
No new graves, and no flowers for the old,
And still no occupant for this which yawns.
You mark me, Adam?
Yes, I mark you, Father,
And will obey. There shall be no more graves.
[Father Gabriel goes back into his house.]
ADAM.
(alone).
His heart is hard against them, theirs 'gainst him.
Yet is it wise in this brief life to be
So disputatious, seeing that we all
Agree in death? And though he loudly claims
To carry this contention to the seat
Of further judgment, can I doubt that Heaven
Will bid our feud join hands? . . . Pity, this grave,
Commodiously fashioned, should stand vacant.
Well, 'tis a dwelling that costs no repair,
Remaining roofless till it gets a tenant,
Whom it can wait for unconcernedly.
SCENE VIII
[The Village Street. Peasants standing in the rain.]1ST PEASANT.
There must be treasure somewhere; somewhere, I say.
2D PEASANT.
Aye, but where?
3D PEASANT.
He can tell us that.
4TH PEASANT.
But if he won't?
1ST PEASANT.
He can be made to tell.
5TH PEASANT.
Princes are not easily made to do anything they don't want to, I've heard say.
3D PEASANT.
That depends on how hard folks that are not princes try to make them.
2D PEASANT.
I don't believe he has got any treasure.
1ST PEASANT.
Listen to him! A nest without any feathers in it, when feathers are plenty!
6TH PEASANT.
He gave up the Crown, meaning to have it back again on his own terms. But meanwhile, think you he starves or lives lean?
1ST PEASANT.
His servitors are fat enough.
2D PEASANT.
Not too fat to stand by him, if the Castle's attacked.
5TH PEASANT.
He won't ask us to take it, that's pretty sure.
2D PEASANT.
Or give it up without a struggle.
1ST PEASANT.
People who climb must expect boulders. It's all a question who's strongest in this world; a world about which the other world,
2D PEASANT.
But isn't theft theft, whether you steal secretly or openly, with cunning or with violence?
1ST PEASANT.
Who stole first? And isn't it theft, whether you steal with your fingers or with your sword? I never heard of a king coming by a throne by working; and everything's theft save working; and working's no longer any good. Only let us steal back the wealth he or his stole from our sort, and then we shall be able to work again to some profit. See here, too! hasn't he taken the fairest of our flock, and what has he given us for her?
2D PEASANT.
He has made her happy, they say.
4TH PEASANT.
Then let us be made happy too. He doesn't believe in Heaven, and we don't believe in it either. Then let's have fair play on earth.
ALL.
Aye, that's it.
1ST PEASANT.
It's all very well to struggle and starve, to work harder than a mule and feed no better, if it's going to be put to rights in another life. But if there's only one life, it's poor work being miserable in it, when princes and fine folk lie soft and eat daintily. Let's have the treasure, I say; at any rate, let's try.
4TH PEASANT.
Then, we can take Eve from him, if that's all, and hold her as a ransom till he sees things as we do.
2D PEASANT.
But we mustn't hurt her, though.
1ST PEASANT.
Who wants to hurt her? Womenkind are not answerable for themselves, let alone for others. Never fear for her, nor for him either, if he'll only hear reason.
7TH PEASANT.
Yes, he who, from all I hear say, has such a lot of reason. He wanted to make his people free. Then let him begin with us. We've no objection to have the church doors shut, provided the granary doors are opened.
2D PEASANT.
Father Gabriel has shut the churchyard as well, and told Adam to dig no more graves there. He won't bury us, he says.
1ST PEASANT.
Not much odds whether he does or not, I warrant, so he doesn't prevent us from keeping ourselves alive.
4TH PEASANT.
And when we do die I reckon graves'll cost less, the less fuss one makes over them.
1ST PEASANT.
Are we of one mind then? To try soft words first; and, if soft words are no good, then strong action?
GROUP OF PEASANTS.
Yes, that's what we wish.
1ST PEASANT.
But mind! not a whisper to the women. They talk shrewishly enough; but when it comes to doing, then straight they begin limping. But when we give them comfort and fine clothes, they won't be so curious as to where these came from.
[They disperse.]SCENE IX
[Prince Lucifer's Study.]LUCIFER.
(alone; reading a dispatch).
At length I triumph! Were I there, to take
Assent and homage from their very lips,
I could not have assurance more than this.
Thus Abdiel writes:“Your People all consent,
Now not alone that Love shall bondless be,
Save as it binds itself, but altar, priest,
All superstitious sanctions of man's life,
Which needs no sanction save his sovereign will,
And they entreat You to return and rule
An Empire by your lofty wisdom freed
From every link and note of servitude.”
[He paces the room.]
Yes! I must go, go there without delay,
Though my coy shepherdess will sore be scared
By her new flock. As yet, her throne hath been
Only the modest station of my heart.
The magnitude of homage will affright her,
As she was frighted when I found her first
And mixed love's magic philtre for her fears.
Love can do all things, change a mountain peasant
Unto a Queen apparent, fit a Crown
Unto the lowliest forehead. Once conceived
With passionate hope, but long from thought dismissed
As barren expectation, my Ideal
Lives real and actual! My Realm sloughs off
The coil of centuries, and hails me King,
Not by the grace of a fantastic Heaven,
Nor for my robed servility, but lo!
By virtue of my Light! That is a Throne
A Man may deign to sit on, and a sceptre
Worthy imperial grasp. Straight will we go,
And reign in freedom over a free People,
Summit and symbol of their liberty.
Earth! what a triumph over vaporous Heaven!
[Eve enters the chamber.]
EVE.
O, let me light the lamp!
LUCIFER.
What lamp, my child?
EVE.
The lamp we kindled when I came here first,
And we have left unkindled, O too long!
Have you forgotten?
LUCIFER.
I remember well,
For I have treasured every touch, and tone,
Token and trifle, of your gentle heart.
But since that time,—well, you are wiser now,
And purer light my love hath tendered you.
O, what is light? what, wisdom? I am torn
With doubt of doubt. Tell me you love me still.
LUCIFER.
The brimming ocean, sweet, is not more full
Of the deep waves than I am of our love.
There is no room in me for more than thou.
Thou fillest my capacity.
EVE.
Let me then
Kindle the lamp anew.
LUCIFER.
Wherefore, my child?
Your will is sweet to me, and have your will.
But if you have a reason for your will,
Will you not tell it me?
EVE.
You are not angry?
I am a woman; yours—yours still—but weak,
Because I am a woman, and I want
To save its life.
That—that—the leeches will,
Be sure of it.
EVE.
Themselves, they are not sure.
I read misgiving in their looks, I catch
Foreboding in their grave and faltering tones.
She, She perhaps can save it. Nay, who knows?
You say we move in darkness; all is dark.
Why then not try? It cannot do us hurt,
And if it save my darling!
LUCIFER.
Love, your mind
Is misty with distress. Trust me; trust them!
Their skill is paramount.
EVE.
Not against death!
LUCIFER.
What is? We can but parry him awhile,
So long as he is pleased to trifle with us.
Over their guard, and break down their defence.
EVE.
I would not lose your love, for life, for death,
For earth, for Heaven, for boundless everything.
But if you love me as I love you, love,
Let us try every stroke and possible thrust
To push death farther off! Yes, all must die;
But not so soon. It came but yesterday,
And all the currents of my life are flush
To keep it living. Must the stream be dried
Whose source is flowing still? The lamp! the lamp!
Light the lamp, Lucifer! Too long, too long,
Her presence hath been darkened. Look! how sad,
How tranquil yet how sad, She droops Her eyes,
As though She waited; and Her empty arms
Are stretched in heavenly patience!
LUCIFER.
Think, child, think!
If you do that which you conceive to do,
You straight will slip down at a single stride
All the ascent you have made!
No, no! not all!
I still shall be with you, my height! my heaven!
And you are high enough for both. So long
As, fondly thus, I hang upon your neck,
I cannot fall so low! Let us but try!
What if it died, and I omitted this—
This chance to save it! What should I think then?
I more than ever should connect my hopes
With Heaven and prayer, because the hope was gone
That hung on mortal help. There's oil in the lamp:
It only needs rekindling. . . . Lucifer!
LUCIFER.
O what a choice you leave me! If you pray,
And seem to pray in vain, the babe must die,
And you be desolate; and if it live,
Then will you knit your happiness to prayer,
And I shall lose the consort of my mind,
And once more think—alone! Will you not wait,
Wait just a little, dear?
[A servitor enters, speaks low to the Prince, and goes.]
EVE.
What did he say?
The babe is worse.
EVE.
Give me the taper, quick!
[Prince Lucifer lights the taper, hands it to Eve, who lights the lamp before the image of the Madonna, and falls on her knees.]
My Mother! hear me!
SCENE X
[The Study of Prince Lucifer. Night. He stands at the open window, gazing at the sky.]LUCIFER.
(alone).
What an opprobrium is sleep, that robs
Poor life of half its value! Covert thief,
That art the accessory before the event
To all-defrauding death! To-night I sleep not,
But once again with questioning wonder scan
The unsurrendering silence of the stars.
Eve, too, is wakeful, bending o'er the babe,
Or kneeling by the semblance of the Mother,
With downcast eyes and folded suppliant hands.
Full on the light of things unblinking stares?
Its gaze, its eyrie, are for it alone;
Or if to that vague altitude it lifts
The innocents of the vale, they come as victims.
[He turns, and slowly paces the chamber.]
Yet, yet what strength within their weakness lurks,
To prove, at pinch, the weakness of our strength!
She begs and weeps; and, undermined by Love,
See Reason's fortress blown into the air
By my own fuse!
[Eve rushes in.]
EVE.
She will not hear me pray.
My lamb is worse. You must go seek the shepherd.
LUCIFER.
Be calm, my child, nor wail yourself in space,
That hath nor ear nor bowels for your grief,
A deaf for endless void. If you must pray,
Petition me; be sure that I will listen.
EVE.
Then send for Father Gabriel!
What can he?
He hath nor craft nor medicine, and 'tis certain,
Who will not hear you, sweet, would not hear him.
EVE.
O, but my woe is weighted with my sin,
And cannot rise to Heaven. His voice is pure,
And so will pierce the ether. Send for him!
My breasts are poisoned, and my milk is drugged
With deadly doubt. I—I, in suckling it
Am but its murderer. My noxious womb
Gave it the venom that is withering it.
How should She hear me, me who heard Her not,
Until I needed Her! I need Her now.
Send, send for Father Gabriel! beg him come!
You said that you would hear me if I prayed,
And this—this—this—this is my prayer—my prayer!
My love! my Lucifer! my morning star!
Be, as you've told me, evening star as well!
And you, the glittering jewel of my dawn,
Illumine this my twilight, and prevent
The pall of utter darkness!
'Tis deep night.
Will you not wait till morning?
EVE.
Wait! when its life
Hangs on the fragile seconds! At once! At once!
Whom shall we send?
LUCIFER.
Myself will go for him.
EVE.
I knew you would! Then, then, you love me still!
Is the night very dark? Let me go with you.
I know the track so well.
LUCIFER.
And well I know it.
Stay by the cradle.
EVE.
How you bear with me!
And never think I do not love you best,
It is so weak;—as I am! See! a kiss
To speed my Prince. Another I refuse,
To lure him swiftly back.
[Eve returns to the Child.]
LUCIFER.
(alone).
Some deeds there are,
Best done in darkness, without company:
And such a deed is this I now must do.
Farewell, my lofty visions! I descend,
A mountain mendicant, to sue the vale
For alms to brand me beggar for my life.
Life! that uneasy dream from which we wake,
To find it nothing!
[He hurries down the mountain.]
THE WEISSHORN.
Roaring, racing, each with each;
Foaming forward, and imploring
For the rest they cannot reach.
Straining highward and more high!
Yearning upward, but ne'er gaining
On the still receding sky.
THE WEISSHORN.
Growling with the lust to slay;
'Mong the clefts and gorges prowling,
But still finding not their prey.
THE VISP-THAL TORRENT.
Dreaming of the dim divine;
Waiting still at tight-closed portals,
Locked out from an empty shrine!
THE MATTERHORN.
The deep to its fountains,
Of mists and of mountains;
Strain and endeavour!
Effort and failure,
For ever and ever!
| Prince Lucifer | |