 | The Serpent Play |  |
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Scene IV.
—The Tent in the Paradise of Cœlis; and, moving round the heights, a car bearing Pandolpb and Beatrice.Actors, Spectators, Troops.
In sudden haste starts back each flapping sail.
‘Where are we?’ asks the Minstrel, dazed and pale:
‘No longer in His Presence who unrolled
The Will Supreme!’
He shivers in the cold,
Slow to proceed and slow the fiat to unfold.
‘No longer in the burning clime above
Where we beheld the God of Love,
As he revealed his mighty will!’
‘Where are we?’ asks the Minstrel, dazed and pale:
‘No longer in His Presence who unrolled
The Will Supreme!’
He shivers in the cold,
Slow to proceed and slow the fiat to unfold.
‘No longer in the burning clime above
Where we beheld the God of Love,
As he revealed his mighty will!’
And thus the Minstrel lingers still
Like one death-stricken by an earthly chill,
Although the sun o'er his encampment flame.
And closer draws his robes around,
Trembling in ecstasy profound.
‘Beloved, who for your parents mourn,
Friends life-severed, wives from husbands torn,
You have a Father! His kind grace
You found; I see it shine in every face;
All base revenge has passed and left no trace.
Were you all punished for your crimes
Committed in the peaceful times,
And was the visitation sent
For your offences, bidding you repent?
Like one death-stricken by an earthly chill,
Although the sun o'er his encampment flame.
And closer draws his robes around,
Trembling in ecstasy profound.
‘Beloved, who for your parents mourn,
Friends life-severed, wives from husbands torn,
You have a Father! His kind grace
You found; I see it shine in every face;
All base revenge has passed and left no trace.
Were you all punished for your crimes
Committed in the peaceful times,
And was the visitation sent
For your offences, bidding you repent?
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Or has the wondrous verdict freed
Your lives and no accuser come
To brand you, or to justify the deed
That to those ashes gave your home?’
Your lives and no accuser come
To brand you, or to justify the deed
That to those ashes gave your home?’
There still is silence, but resolve is there,
That doth some awful purpose bear.
The Warrior, calm, is yet aghast,
And sits two trembling maids between,
His present ever nearer to his past.
That doth some awful purpose bear.
The Warrior, calm, is yet aghast,
And sits two trembling maids between,
His present ever nearer to his past.
HAYUS.
I know your will; it is His Will: I saw
Unrolled the sentence of His law.
'Tis not revenge, the despicable crime!
For Heaven is high, her verdicts are sublime.
She bids us with our dead to bury hate,
Not on revenge our sorrow satiate!
Not vengeance?
A stern Chorus
thunders,
‘No!’
The huntsmen then in voices fierce and fell
Cry out, ‘This woman shall our verdict tell;
She smarts beneath the murderer's blow.’
Held up, the woman staggers, sliding
Before the priest as o'er a Serpent's path.
She is the vessel of a stagnant wrath
Which is the flood-time of its grief abiding.
She, once more childless, hides her face
As if so deep a sorrow were disgrace.
She like a dying Pythoness appears:
The pitying audience moans for her its fears.
None hear her voice, she whispers low;
She shivers in the winter of her woe.
The Priest supports her to the seats,
And to the eager crowd repeats
The few short words the woman said.
Cry out, ‘This woman shall our verdict tell;
She smarts beneath the murderer's blow.’
Held up, the woman staggers, sliding
Before the priest as o'er a Serpent's path.
She is the vessel of a stagnant wrath
Which is the flood-time of its grief abiding.
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As if so deep a sorrow were disgrace.
She like a dying Pythoness appears:
The pitying audience moans for her its fears.
None hear her voice, she whispers low;
She shivers in the winter of her woe.
The Priest supports her to the seats,
And to the eager crowd repeats
The few short words the woman said.
‘Not in revenge Heaven lifts the rod!’
Thrice from his mouth and ever louder,
His voice more stern his bearing prouder,
Thrice the verdict he delivers,
And every heart there present quivers
As when a text from Holy Writ
A demon's soul in man has lit,
While still is flaming in his eyes
The wrath to come! How shall it end?
Again his words as bolts descend:
‘Not to avenge! but, to chastise!’
Thus as he cruelly lets fall
The Word of God, it crushes all.
They seem to see in their dismay
An angry God among them at the play,
Who brings with Him his judgment-day.
Thrice from his mouth and ever louder,
His voice more stern his bearing prouder,
Thrice the verdict he delivers,
And every heart there present quivers
As when a text from Holy Writ
A demon's soul in man has lit,
While still is flaming in his eyes
The wrath to come! How shall it end?
Again his words as bolts descend:
‘Not to avenge! but, to chastise!’
Thus as he cruelly lets fall
The Word of God, it crushes all.
They seem to see in their dismay
An angry God among them at the play,
Who brings with Him his judgment-day.
HAYUS.
Not to avenge, but to chastise!
They who an infant's strength despise,
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Our God elects for high example.
The Chorus
shrilly shouts:
‘For ever!’
HAYUS.
Could they our peace of mind restore us
We might forgive: this can they never:
It is an hour of retribution
And for their sin is no ablution.
CHORUS.
For ever blood must wash out blood!
The Priest less stern, in silence stood,
His people mute; again his eyes
Fall on them; every voice replies
In shriller chorus: ‘Blood for blood!’
HAYUS.
Then shall there be three signs from Heaven:
Behold the first!
The Cross he raises.
As soon as they perceive the signal given
By bugle blast all ears are riven,
That through the distant gorges winds
And hill and vale in echoing tumult binds.
When near the summons ceases to be heard,
Afar, unto the utmost mazes
The chill recesses of the gorge are stirred.
The Warrior dreads, no eye can see
What fearful vengeance is in store:
Yet is it war's fair strategy,
Though he shall shout of victory no more.
Could he the dear loved woman save!
But how? Fierce eyes their every movement follow.
O anguish, must a common grave
The innocent and guilty swallow?
He bids the maidens go; they cannot rise,
Their quivering limbs have not the power,
Held in the terror of that hour;
And death seems glazing in their eyes.
As soon as they perceive the signal given
By bugle blast all ears are riven,
That through the distant gorges winds
And hill and vale in echoing tumult binds.
When near the summons ceases to be heard,
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The chill recesses of the gorge are stirred.
The Warrior dreads, no eye can see
What fearful vengeance is in store:
Yet is it war's fair strategy,
Though he shall shout of victory no more.
Could he the dear loved woman save!
But how? Fierce eyes their every movement follow.
O anguish, must a common grave
The innocent and guilty swallow?
He bids the maidens go; they cannot rise,
Their quivering limbs have not the power,
Held in the terror of that hour;
And death seems glazing in their eyes.
Back from the gorge a trumpet-note
Is thrice repeated, then with sound
Of heavy tramp, confused and loud,
As when deep thunders crush the ground,
The dust advancing cloud on cloud,
All ears as by their destiny are smote.
A troop of horsemen clad for fight
With sabres drawn bursts into sight,
And vultures startled at the bugle-shock,
Flap their disordered wings, and from their rock
Scale with stretched necks the skyey hollow,
And o'er the ill-fated fields the troopers follow.
Between the arena and the hills
That savage band the narrow passage fills;
A panic spreads, by many ways
To make escape the crowd essays,
But all who fly the flashing steel dismays.
Now are there screams and woman's wails,
Terror in every face prevails.
No blow is struck, no threat is spoken;
Each horseman falls into his place,
And thus in line those troops the people face,
Encircling all in ranks unbroken.
Their banner-bearers on white chargers seated
Display the fluttering Serpent to the crowd,
Its blood-red coils, its movements proud,
Now in the troubled ether shaking,
Now over all in frightful billows breaking.
Is thrice repeated, then with sound
Of heavy tramp, confused and loud,
As when deep thunders crush the ground,
The dust advancing cloud on cloud,
All ears as by their destiny are smote.
A troop of horsemen clad for fight
With sabres drawn bursts into sight,
And vultures startled at the bugle-shock,
Flap their disordered wings, and from their rock
Scale with stretched necks the skyey hollow,
And o'er the ill-fated fields the troopers follow.
Between the arena and the hills
That savage band the narrow passage fills;
A panic spreads, by many ways
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But all who fly the flashing steel dismays.
Now are there screams and woman's wails,
Terror in every face prevails.
No blow is struck, no threat is spoken;
Each horseman falls into his place,
And thus in line those troops the people face,
Encircling all in ranks unbroken.
Their banner-bearers on white chargers seated
Display the fluttering Serpent to the crowd,
Its blood-red coils, its movements proud,
Now in the troubled ether shaking,
Now over all in frightful billows breaking.
Hopeless, then whispers Voragine
To Vivia: ‘Is there aught that you have seen?’
She answers, ‘Pandolph and his Beatrice.’
To Vivia: ‘Is there aught that you have seen?’
She answers, ‘Pandolph and his Beatrice.’
VORAGINE.
They move along the heights; they pause; and now
Dismayed they look upon us from the mountainbrow.
They move again, towards Cœlis winds their car,
As they gaze on us still.
VIVIA.
Let it suffice
That they are safe.
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They yet may bring us aid;
If not, their coming has been well delayed.
They vanish now.
VIVIA.
They reappear; they are
With Cœlis on his mount; and now their car
Wheels swiftly forward from the danger gone,
And Cœlis, watching us, is there alone.
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