University of Virginia Library

Scene V.—Susa.

Alexander, Calanus.
Alex.
Father, think well of it. Our Faith offends you.

Cal.
'Tis a child's babble: and a child were he
That either loved or loathed it. Wisdom's sons—
None else in things divine have serious part—
Can mark the shadows dance upon the dust,
With brow that knows no change.

Alex.
I am not Greek,
Though king of Greeks. My race belongs to Greece
Of the kingly age alone. Commend you Persia?

Cal.
A priest of Persia bows his head to kings.
One time their Magians, at a king's command,
Linked with their order one who was a Greek,
Themistocles by name. Their wisdom's earthly:
Their Faith is but a law, and not a thought:
They make their God a king, give him a rival,
An Ahriman with Ormuzd still at feud,
Vexing with war the everlasting Rest,
The One Existence in and under all,
For all things else but seem, and are illusions,
The Intelligence unmoved whose thoughts are things,
Who dreams, and worlds are made.

Alex.
Is Egypt nobler?

Cal.
Egypt had wisdom once: her kings have slain it;
With them her priests connived; the guiltier far:
They shared with kings; and government was all.
Egypt is but a kingdom; kingdoms pass:
A race alone survives. Son, what wouldest thou?

Alex.
A single kingdom one o'er all the earth.

Cal.
So much of earth as shall suffice for grave
Is man's, my son—no more. The on-striding foot
No whither tends. The way is up, not onward.
Ten years you have wasted conquering half the world.

Alex.
Ay! Time is needed. There's the pang—none sharper!

Cal.
Eternity alone from Time can free you;
One step can lodge you in her changeless realm:
There from the palm eternal drops no scale:
The ambrosial rose never lets fall a leaf:
The ever-setting sun is never set:—
That realm is Thought. My son, you have won your kingdom:
Spurn it, and live.

Alex.
But half my task is finished.
Once wrought—

Cal.
You'd be a god on earth, and do
What God has left undone. The external world
To the end must be a world of blind confusions,
Some little curbed by little chiefs and kings,
With others who in industries cognate
Partake with these. Be still: the Eternal Patience
Preserves that world the Eternal Thought creates.

Alex.
(after a pause).
How many are your lesser deities?

Cal.
Their number's infinite. Divinity
Had ne'er been plural else. A finite number
Would spawn us idols.

Alex.
They are less than Brahm?

Cal.
Less than his priests, my son, of whom am I.
Men know us not. Of old the patriarch Brahmins
Sat in still groves, their flocks their kingdoms then,
For man was then a Household, not a Realm,
And lived for their Creator, not for things.
When riot filled the earth, and lust, and war,
These from the embraces of the race depraved
Severed their sons. They dwelt apart revered
Even by the vile. What man first was, we are:
We keep our heritage and know not change:

The inferior castes fell from us.

[Craterus enters.
Alex.
I must leave you.

Cal.
I claim your pledge. You're in my debt a pyre.

Alex.
What mean you?

Cal.
King, you sware to speed me home:
My body fails: my spirit's freedom nears me:
The God I serve rejects reluctant guests.
I mount that pyre alive: the finite atom
Rejoins the infinite.

Alex.
A pride there is
That dwarfs the pride of kings. Calanus, live!
Your pupil, not your king, kneels to implore you.

Cal.
I have taught you nought.

Cra.
I see it in his eye:
His will is fix'd.

Alex.
(rising).
I'll have no part in this:
Craterus, subdue that overweening will;
Win him to live:—but still revere my pledge.

[Departs.