University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Scene.—Partly in Eman of Macha, in Erin, partly on the borders of Locke Eitche, in Alba.
Time of the Action.—About the middle of the First Century of the Christian Era.
The Plain of Eman. Gannan, Daidra's Tutor, discovered slaying a calf. Enter Daidra and Lavercam, her Guardian Angel.
DAIDRA.
Why, good Gannan! what are you doing here?

GANNAN.
Nothing—only killing a calf. What are you doing here?

DAIDRA.
Looking at you. But what
Are you killing it for?

GANNAN.
For you, of course—
Daidra, milkwhite Dove of Conor's cote.

DAIDRA.
What a pity it is to see it die!
Poor little thing! are you not sorry to see
Its blood run so?

GANNAN.
Not more so than you are
To eat its meat.

DAIDRA.
I think you ought to be—
For I would not have killed it for the world,
Nor anything that cannot help itself!

GANNAN.
But you would eat its meat for nothing, though.

LAVERCAM.
Poor soul! you know that she could never look
At anything in pain.

GANNAN.
Were I a calf,
I would be glad to die, at any time,
To be eaten by your sweet mouth.

DAIDRA.
God knows
I would not eat you for the world! Now that
I have seen it die so innocently—
Never having made one murmurous cry—
I would not eat one mouthful of it for all
The whole round world!

GANNAN.
By to-morrow you will
Have changed your mind. A hungry stomach is
The safest grave for all such sickly thoughts.

LAVERCAM.
Is it not a pity that this poor calf
Should die, when there is one deserves it more
In Eman.

DAIDRA.
Who is that?

LAVERCAM.
Why, that old Bull,
Who is forever bellowing after you,
His milkwhite Heifer, whom he keeps to mow
His Asphodelian meadows, knee deep
In flowers.

GANNAN.
Or, rather say, the Eagle, who,
From his high Eyrie up in Heaven, will soon
Pounce on this milkwhite Dove.

LAVERCAM.
God save her soul!

DAIDRA.
That hour will never come. Before I would
Be Conor's wife, I would, by these fair hands,
Become the murdered Bride of Death!

GANNAN.
Brave girl!
You are most resolute—as eloquent as fair—
Most worthy to be made great Conor's queen.

DAIDRA.
Never his bride—much less his queen.

GANNAN.
You are
Already his—wedded from infancy.

DAIDRA.
But only in the name. Who cares for that?
Not I. For that is all. Never to be
In fact, or act.

GANNAN.
You have an Angel's tongue,
But a mortal's mind to direct it right.
You have fulfilled that great command of Christ—
Be wise as serpents, but harmless as doves.
For the Devil, that beguiled our mother Eve
With loss of Eden, I see lurking round
Your soul.

DAIDRA.
Let him beware, then, lest I sting
His soul to death!

GANNAN.
But he will make you his.

DAIDRA.
Not if I should run away with another.

GANNAN.
But then you must not run away. Your loss
Would cost us both our lives.

LAVERCAM.
Most true.

DAIDRA.
He has
All power to take my life, but none to make
Me marry him.

GANNAN.
But he will make you his
In spite of you.

DAIDRA.
Not after I have gone.

GANNAN.
But you can never go, we being here
Commanded to restore you back to him
At any time that he may call for you.

DAIDRA.
But would you do this? Would you, Lavercam?

LAVERCAM.
You know I would not, love!

DAIDRA.
God bless your soul!
You have been kind to me my whole life long—
More than a mother! Now I thank you for it.
Once, I did think my Tutor was my friend;
But now he is Saint Peter to the King.
So let him be: he fills his office well.
Lock you this door, then keep the prison-keys;
There is an Angel here will let me out,
Even while the Jailor sleeps. She has, from God,
The key that can unlock the strongest door—
The Key of Love. With this, I will go forth,
In spite of everything that you can do.
[A Raven descends near where the calf lies.]
But look! dear Lavercam! behold that bird!
It comes to drink the poor calf's blood!

LAVERCAM.
It does;
And is a Raven-ous bird.

DAIDRA.
As black as Night!

LAVERCAM.
The Night made beautiful by Day. See how
Its ebon wings glint back the golden Sun.

DAIDRA.
It is an emblem of our Butcher's soul.

LAVERCAM.
It is too white to be thus black.

DAIDRA.
Why did
It come, if not to emblem this dark deed?

LAVERCAM.
To banquet on the young calf's blood.

DAIDRA.
What bird
Is it? the Crow?

LAVERCAM.
The Raven, love—a bird
Of Omen!

DAIDRA.
Ominous of what?

LAVERCAM.
Of death!

DAIDRA.
I said it was an Emblem of his soul—
The murderer of this calf.

LAVERCAM.
No, it is not—
But still an ominous bird—for when it croaks
Above the housetop, 'tis a sign of death
In some one of the innocent family.

DAIDRA.
God grant it may not croak above our house.

LAVERCAM.
Then let it drink the young calf's blood, for fear,
That, if you drive it away, it croak your death!

DAIDRA.
Yes, let it drink—there! do not scare it away!
God knows I do not want to die so young.

LAVERCAM.
That is the time to die—when you are young,
And free from sin. Then you can go to Heaven,
Like Enoch, or Elijah did, without the pain
Of suffering death.

DAIDRA.
Are all the young who die,
Translated into Heaven!

LAVERCAM.
They are—because they go
Wafted on Angel's wings, free from the death
Of sin—translated, like Christ was, in deeds
Of unimputed holiness.

DAIDRA.
God grant
That I may die that way, go into Heaven
On Angels' wings, like those two holy men.

LAVERCAM.
The good soul never dies, but always lives
Eternal in its purity, which is the soul
Of immortality.

DAIDRA.
Then I shall live
Forever, for I never will do wrong.

GANNAN.
What would a trembling Dove, like you, do in
A hawk's talons, but only die?

DAIDRA.
Why, die!
Which I would do, rather than marry him.

GANNAN.
Then you will die, for he will marry you
As certain as you live; for he has raised
You, from your infancy, to be his wife.

DAIDRA.
So you may think; but I will never be.
The husband I would have, must be a man
Whose hair is like that Raven's wing; his cheeks
As red as blood: his skin as white as snow.

LAVERCAM.
Then you can have your liking—for I know
A man who answers your description well.

DAIDRA.
Who is he, Nurse?

LAVERCAM.
Naisa—Usna's Son;
One of King Conor's household—noble too.

DAIDRA.
One of his Nobles?

LAVERCAM.
No, not his—but God's.
He walks among his Nobles like a God
Among bad men.

DAIDRA.
Oh! cruel fate!—Go, Nurse!
Tell him I want to see him instantly!
I cannot rest until I see his face!
Do tell him how I want to be his wife!
Oh! why have I not seen him long ago?

LAVERCAM.
Because you have been raised for Conor's bed—
Debarred that joy, having no power to choose.

DAIDRA.
But I have power to choose. Send him to me,
And I will show you that I have. Go, Nurse!
Tell him to meet me in the Bower of Bards,
Beside the brook—this evening—not to wait—
But in the Bower of Bards beside the brook.

LAVERCAM.
I go to do your wish. He shall be there
To-night, as you desire.

DAIDRA.
God bless your soul!
You have been more than mother unto me.
Go, my dear Nurse! may Angels guard your steps!
For I do long to tell him all my soul!
Then I will show you I have power to choose.

LAVERCAM.
Now, then, I go to do your wish. Farewell!

DAIDRA.
Farewell, dear Nurse! may Angels guard thy steps!

[Exit LAVERCAM.
GANNAN.
But stay, dear Princess! Did you think I was
Your foe? Nay, I was only joking you.
I will do everything I can for you;
And when the time shall come for you to go,
I will be ready to unlock the door,
And let you from the Fort.

DAIDRA.
I thank you much;
For you have always been a friend to me.
My days of pupilage are over now.
I am in love with one I never saw.
Farewell! May Angels watch above your head!

GANNAN.
I hope Naisa may be fair to you,
As he is good to us; for then I know
You will be happy, loving him so well.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.

A Druidical Grove. Enter Lavercam to Caffa.
CAFFA.
Oh! God! how glad I am to see you here!

LAVERCAM.
Not more than I to meet with you.

CAFFA.
Alas!
Were not Slessama now in Heaven in bliss,
I would believe that she were here on earth—
Thou art so much like her in face as form.

LAVERCAM.
Didst thou not love Slessama while on earth?

CAFFA.
Oh! more than loved! I worshipped her!

LAVERCAM.
But have
You loved any one since her death?

CAFFA.
I have—
But only one—one only one on earth—
But thee!

LAVERCAM.
Did you not, on her death-bed, swear
Never to love another, but to be
Forever true to her in thought, word, deed?

CAFFA.
I did—but who informed you so?

LAVERCAM.
Thou didst—
With thine own lips. Now thou dost swear the same
Fidelity to me.

CAFFA.
I do indeed—
And will perform my oath; for I do love
Thee, Lavercam, as mortal never loved
Before!

LAVERCAM.
We cannot love but one.

CAFFA.
We can—
I feel we can. There are some souls who have
This power—for I do know, within my soul,
That I did love Slessama with a love
Boundless—above all other love, except
My love for thee!

LAVERCAM.
But was she not your wife
On earth?

CAFFA.
She was—the truest ever born!

LAVERCAM.
Is she not now your wife in Heaven?

CAFFA.
She is—
As true to me as Christ to God.

LAVERCAM.
But are
You true to her?

CAFFA.
I am—if love can make
Me true.

LAVERCAM.
How can you love us both?

CAFFA.
With love—
In spirit as in truth—as we do God.

LAVERCAM.
But were I dead, would you not love again,
As you do now, Slessama being dead?

CAFFA.
Never! never! unless the loved was like
Slessama—as thou art!

LAVERCAM.
Then you do love me
Only as I resemble her?

CAFFA.
Just so;
For thou art more like her than she herself—
(As thou hast ever been, wilt ever be)
Being the resurrection of her form,
In all her beauty, as she looked to me,
The sacred evening that I made her mine—
Full of the glorious beauty of her youth,
As with celestial meekness when she died.
The Autumn of her Summer life suffused
With all the flowery graces of her Spring.

LAVERCAM.
Is this the way that you win woman's love,
By praising other women?

CAFFA.
Thus I win
The good, who are not jealous of the good,
But love to be compared with them.

LAVERCAM.
Most true;
But this is seldom so.

CAFFA.
But is so now,
Else I had never loved; nor do I care
If it should never be again, for this
Is always unto me—the true Nunc stans
Of God's Eternity in Time; for all
The Past, the Future, are comprised in this
One moment of eternal time—of love—
For I shall never love again.

LAVERCAM.
So you
Did promise your Slessama when you wed—
As on the day she died.

CAFFA.
I did, indeed,
And what I promised her I will perform;
My love for you being but my love for her.
This I can no more help than I can die
Against God's will—when living is that will.
Oh! God! now thou dost smile? It is her smile.
Now thou dost look! It is her look! all Heaven!
For the calm meekness of thy Dove-like eyes,
Is hers—thy form—thy features—all are hers!
Oh! God! thy beauty takes me back in joy
Through eighteen weary years of mortal life—
As on the Morning's wings soared Noah's Dove—
Through the Dark Portals of the day she died,
Into the sunny chambers of the Spring—
The Day I made her mine. Thou art my wife,
Fresh resurrected from the grave—reborn
Again from Death, living another life
On earth, proving the Soul can never die!

LAVERCAM.
Nay, thou art rapt.

CAFFA.
Entranced by thy sweet face—
Translated in the Chariot of thy Love,
Into the Mansions of eternal joy,
Where my Slessama lives! for were she not
Now in the grave, lying among the dead—
Where I did place her with these two fair hands—
Baptizing her dead form with tears of love,
Into the newness of immortal life,
I would believe that she were standing here,
Clothed in the beauty of thy heavenly form:
The Anistasis of her former self!
For thou art so much like herself, thou art
My wife on earth, as she is now in Heaven.

LAVERCAM.
Then I accept thy love.

CAFFA.
[Kneeling.
Then lay thy hand
Upon my brow! bathe my hot forehead with
One blessing from the fountain of thy palm,
That the benediction of celestial peace
Rejuvenate my soul with all the joys
Of our immortal Paradise of Youth—
The first unclouded Morning of our love!
Oh! down of Heaven's sweet Swan! Oh! breast
Of God's celestial Dove! filling my soul
With endless peace! Oh! perfume from the Rose
Of Paradise, whereon there is no thorn!
Where my rapt soul now lies, entranced by Love,
Dreaming of my Slessama, full of Heaven!
Thou hast baptized my soul with healing balm,
As though Christ's hand, the Medicine for Death,
Had just laid on my wounded soul new life,
Restoring me as one who touched his garment's hem.
Oh! my Slessama! Lavercam! my love!
Let me sit down by thee! Kneel at thy feet,
As at the feet of Christ, where all is peace!
The Temple where my soul must worship now!
The Ladder by which I must climb to God—
The one foot resting on my bosom here—
The other leaning against the white doors of Heaven!
For eighteen years I have not seen one hour
Like this—never since my Slessama died!

LAVERCAM.
Thus God rewards the faithful heart.

CAFFA.
He does.
Then you approve my love?

LAVERCAM.
I do—for it
Is pure—pure as the love Slessama bears
For you in Heaven—or Lavercam on earth.

CAFFA.
Then do—for I deserve such love—thy love,
As my Slessama's love in Heaven—who knows
I have been true to her as Christ to God!

LAVERCAM.
Slessama knows it—so does Lavercam.
But I must go. Farewell!

CAFFA.
Oh! do not go!
Leave me not here alone! I have been left
These eighteen weary years here on this earth,
And this is long enough for one poor soul
To pay rich penance to the greedy grave—
Filling the coffers up of avaricious Death!
Oh! when you laid your hand upon my brow,
It seemed a flock of milk-white Cygnets swam
Circling through my brain, singing of Heaven!
Then do not go, but stay here by my side,
That I may feast my soul on thy sweet face,
As Mary did on Christ, my grave-born wife!
For oh! when thou art absent from my sight,
I feel like Earth does when the Day is dead,
Buried in darkness! Thou art my soul's Spring!
A golden Summer, full of all things rich!
When thou art absent, Winter is my Spring!
Then stay with me! leave me not here alone!
Where I have been an Exile these long years,
As Adam was in banishment—but stay
And give me Eden—give me Paradise!
For where you are is Heaven; are not—dark Hell!

LAVERCAM.
But, then, what will Daidra do!

CAFFA.
Ah! true!
What can she do? Then you may go. Take care
Of her—for she does need your care. Farewell.

LAVERCAM.
Thou art the Incarnation of God's love—
Standing amid these Angels of the groves,
Whose outstretched wings now shadow thee above,
Making a green Pavilion for thy head—
Like some great House of God towering aloft,
Afar off in the infinite Fields of Heaven,
Embosomed by the pathetic Sisterhood
Of Choirs of Cherubimical Willows, round
Whose holiness they weep eternal shade.

CAFFA.
And thou the Guardian Angel of the place!

[Exeunt severally.
Enter Lucifer and Caffa.
LUCIFER.
You speak the truth in saying I am wise.
The seed of knowledge cometh from above,
And I would sow it in thy soul. Come, come,—
Give me thy hand.

CAFFA.
First, tell me who thou art.

LUCIFER.
I am the king of that which thou wouldst be.
We grow angelic as we grow more wise.
But hark! I hear the rush of angels' wings!
To show you what I am,—see! there he comes!
The smiles of God descending on his wings!

CAFFA.
Upon a chariot of thick clouds he comes!
See how his countenance doth make them glow!
It is my Guardian Angel! God of Heaven!
I thank thee! Let us bow before him now!

LUCIFER.
Fool! fool!
Stand up, erect, in attitude divine!
And show thy soul as proud as mine! Arise!
Bend not thy knees upon the earth! This is
Not wisdom, 'tis abasement! Rise again!
Wisdom is lofty, noble! Let thine eyes
Look heaven full in the face, not on the earth!
This is the dwelling-place of beasts, not man!
His soul was made to walk the stars! Arise!
Thou art too noble to be thus abased!
I would not bow to anything on earth
Less than the God who made me! not to one
Mine equal! No, arise! give me thy hand!

CAFFA.
No, let me kneel! his heavenly beauty bows
Me to the earth! Bid me not rise again
Till he is gone.

LUCIFER.
He is thine equal, rise!

CAFFA.
No, Angels are above us men.

LUCIFER.
Is not
Thy soul immortal? What can his be more
Than that? Behold! he beckons thee to come!

CAFFA.
Oh! God have mercy on me! let me live!
It is the Angel of the Lord! Behold!
He holds a Scroll within his hand!

LUCIFER.
'Tis thine!

[Celestial music heard in Heaven. The Angel drops the Scroll. Caffa picks it up.
CAFFA.
Behold! he fades in Heaven! Now he is gone!

LUCIFER
(Looking over his shoulder).
Did I not tell thee to arise? Hadst thou
Continued on the earth, the Scroll had come
To me! (Aside.)
Would it were so!—
(Aloud.)
Now kneel no more!
What is there on it?

CAFFA.
Wisdom—from on high.

LUCIFER
(Aside).
I knew he was Heaven's favorite before! For this,
I would destroy his soul!— (Aloud.)
Give me the Scroll.

CAFFA.
Not for this world.

LUCIFER.
Why not?

CAFFA.
Because I am
Forbidden thus to do.

LUCIFER.
Does it say so?

CAFFA.
It says as much. If thou art wise, then hold
Thy peace,—I know thy name.

LUCIFER.
Does it say so?
Then I am baffled by the Power of Heaven!
Now, Hell! will I put forth my utmost power!
What shall I give thee for the scroll?

CAFFA.
You have
Nothing to give. Once thou wert rich; but now
Most poor! Once thou wert king above the host
Of Heaven; now, thou art Tyrant over those
In Hell! I know thee who thou art!

LUCIFER.
By Heaven!
You swore to be my friend!

CAFFA.
I knew thee not.

LUCIFER.
Art thou a liar, thus to treat me so?

CAFFA.
No, but thou art!

LUCIFER.
Nay, this is not the way
To show our wisdom. Give the Scroll to me,
And I will teach thee wisdom never taught
On earth. I will unfold to thee the laws
Of nature,—all the mysteries of the stars—
And solve the dark Ænigma of the grave!

CAFFA.
Not if you had the power to do all you
Have said,—which you have not! Not if you had
The stars, which you have not,—nor ever had,—
Nor ever will have! Not for all the wealth
You had in Heaven,—which you will never have
Again! It was an Angel's gift! It is
A Talisman against thine arts!

LUCIFER.
Proud man!
I love to see thee so. That cannot be
A Talisman against mine arts, which is
Thus known to me. I was but trying thee.
I know each word upon that Scroll. Ha! ha! ha!

CAFFA.
And so do I, now I have looked on it.

LUCIFER.
But I have never looked on it; yet I
Do know each word on it.

CAFFA.
In that, you are
No wiser than I am. Before I got the Scroll,
You knew what Man you were, which I did not;
But now I know thee well. This makes me proof
Against thine arts.

LUCIFER.
Why do you talk of art?
Wisdom is art. You said you would be wise;
Therefore, seek wisdom.

CAFFA.
Wise in nought but good.

LUCIFER.
All wisdom is of good.

CAFFA.
That is thine art.

LUCIFER.
Why do you love all wisdom then? You said,
But now, you would know all that could be known
In earth or Heaven.

CAFFA.
That which would make me good,
As well as wise.

LUCIFER.
The Scroll can teach thee naught
But what I know.

CAFFA.
I know not that. I know
It was an Angel's gift.

LUCIFER.
I know that well;
But what is he to me? Not even so much
As was the smallest under me in Heaven,—
Not half so near mine equal as thyself.

CAFFA.
The Angel tells me thou art proud,—nay, more—
A flatterer.

LUCIFER.
Why should I flatter thee, who art
Now sworn to be my friend?

CAFFA.
Only so far
As thou art worthy to be called my friend.

LUCIFER.
Wisdom is worth. The least of what I know
Is greater than the wisest angel in
God's Heaven.

CAFFA.
What thou wert once, is not what thou
Art now.

LUCIFER.
When thou hast heard, thou wilt believe,
And dash away the Scroll. Farewell!

CAFFA.
Farewell!

[Exeunt severally.
Enter Chorus of Fallen Angels, who chant the following Salutation.
Chant of Fallen Angels.
Welcome, welcome, great Lightbringer!
Rapturous theme of every Singer!
Teacher of the great Evangels,
Taught in Heaven by God's Archangels!
Richest of the Heirs of Glory!
Most renowned in ancient story!
Rapturous theme of every Singer!
Welcome, welcome, great Lightbringer!

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE III.

Another part of the Grove. Enter Naisa and Lavercam in conversation.
LAVERCAM.
But in the lustrous glances of her eyes,
There is an artless innocence of love,
Whose irresistible Art outcharms all
Studied ingenuity of artfulness;
Taking the soul all captive in its arms,
Binding in golden chains, that never gall,
The willing captive. But her deep blue eyes,
They follow not the steps of men—for where
She ought to go, she looks, but nowhere else.
Her cheeks are roses dyed in hues of health;
Not shame. Her face is milder than the Moon,
But radiant as the cloudless Sun at noon—
Through which the white snow of her soul is seen,
Clothing her form with saintly tenderness.
Her voice is softer than the Dorian Flute,
Heard at the midnight when all else is still,
And all the Heavens above are full of stars.

NAISA.
Has she been baptized?

LAVERCAM.
Baptized.

NAISA.
Who was
Her God-father?

LAVERCAM.
God.

NAISA.
Who baptized her?

LAVERCAM.
Christ.

NAISA.
Then she is safe; there is no danger now—
Being above all loss.

LAVERCAM.
Above all law.
Being above law, she is freed from sin;
Freed thus from sin, above the power of Death;
Therefore, immortal—for how can Heaven die?

NAISA.
I love Heaven loving her.

LAVERCAM.
A Christian true.
Her virtues, growing with her years, have borne
Upon her bosom every heavenly grace—
The rose-bud of her beauty having blown
Into the perfect Rose of womanhood;
So that the Casket which enshrines her soul,
Is not inferior to the soul itself;
But, like the purest gems, betrays its worth
By the rich light that it reveals—the Stars
In Heaven not differing from each other more,
In true glory, than she from all her sex.
For, as some crystal Vase reveals, at once,
The priceless treasure it contains, so does
Her peerless form the saintly soul it hides.

NAISA.
Oh! heavenly Sweetness! Charming Charm! She's so
Entirely rich in every perfect grace,
God must have emptied Heaven of all His best
To make this bright Original—wherein all
The world might seek for something rich for each.

LAVERCAM.
But more, to climax these, she has the wit
That graces Grace; so mild in every mood,
In Summer she seems Spring—as if the Dove
Of Womanhood lived in the Halcyon Nest
Of Youth, new-born.

NAISA.
Star of my love! shine on!
Thus does God build her up, from day today,
To be the admiration of the world—
From her Cherubic Childhood to the heights
Of her Angelic Womanhood—a sight
More beautiful than Pyramids of Pearl,
Higher than Babel; so much does the soul
Of virtuous grace transcend all earthly things.

LAVERCAM.
The Crown she wears is garnished not with pearls,
Or Diamonds, dug from out the mines of earth,
But Jewels gathered from the Isles of Heaven—
Those fadeless lustres of immortal life
Found only on the sunny shores of God.
A single sprig plucked from the Tree of Life,
She values more than Forests of Green Bay.
Thus do the noble deeds of virtuous grace
Transcend all earthly jewels worn in crowns—
Crowning the bright possessor Heaven's own Queen.
Her condescension to her inferiors
Is not meanness, but familiar charity—
Just like Christ's coming down from Heaven to earth;
For when she sells herself for nothing to do good,
The price she asks is far too high for earth;
So, she remains unsold—except to Heaven;
For when she seeks the Valley with the low,
She still stays on the Hilltop with the rich—
But needs no titulars now to blazon her,
Any more than the Evening Star does light
To make it shine more bright—already full—
Drinking forever out of the crystalline Wells
Of God, the light by which it is relumed;
So does she from the life of God her life.

NAISA.
To speak of one divine, both need the like
Historian—as you now prove yourself to be.
The Trumpet that you blow is made of gold.

LAVERCAM.
My breath is not divine enough to speak
Her heavenly praise.

NAISA.
Indeed she seems to be
A matchless Theme—transcending human tongues.

LAVERCAM.
She is her own fair Theatre, where none
But Angels sit as Auditors of her Acts;
And, seeing, stay there to applaud—her whole
Life being but one continual Play
Of Piety!

NAISA.
Indeed you speak her well.

LAVERCAM.
Her merits, far above my Gothic Pen,
Let Angels' quills pronounce; for none but Heaven,
With those from Cherub's wings, can write her praise.
It were a sin for me to try to add
New lustre to her Diadem—as well
Attempt to give new lustre to the stars,
Already bursting with the plenitudes
Of Heaven.

NAISA.
Now do I see her matchless worth.

LAVERCAM.
Her name is written in the Book of Life,
Beauty may fade—Honor's Green Bays lie withered—
But true godliness is an undeciduous tree,
Whose roots are anchored in the Heart of God—
Out of whose emerald leaves the Angels weave
Garlands of Glory for the Just in Heaven.
There is no Evening to her Morn—her life
Being like the Angels', subject no to time—
Division dying in Eternity.

NAISA.
Where shall I meet her?

LAVERCAM.
In the Bower of Bards,
Beside the brook that feeds the Lake of Swans.
Farewell!

NAISA.
Farewell! I shall be there anon.

[Exit.
Enter Conor.
CONOR.
Come hither, Lavercam. What is the news?

LAVERCAM.
That question had been better asked by me,
As there is nothing new under the sun.

CONOR.
How fares Daidra?

LAVERCAM.
She is well, great king.
The same old news, as she is always well.

CONOR.
Old things become new when spoken of her;
For the sweetest news that was ever told
Is the ancient news that can never grow old.

LAVERCAM.
The Beautiful remains forever new.

CONOR.
What does she study now? Does she still play,
As she was won't to do in days gone by?

LAVERCAM.
She does, great king—excelling all the queens
That ever reigned in Ullad, or the world.

CONOR.
You shall be rich as any queen for this—
Sitting as near my throne as she my heart.

LAVERCAM.
I thank your Highness gratefully. She is
The fairest flower that ever bloomed on earth.

CONOR.
Was ever man so fortunate as I am now—
Having so fine a Poetess for her nurse?
Have you composed her any songs of late?

LAVERCAM.
I have, great Sovereign, several—which she sings
Most admirably. Angel never lived
In Heaven more like this Angel here on earth.

CONOR.
You use an Angel's tongue in saying so.
Teach her to emulate herself—for on
The night my Nobles come to sup with me,
In the great Banqueting Hall of Eman here,
I want her here to sing for us.

LAVERCAM.
She shall—
To crown the entertainment with new songs;
Most admirably will she acquit herself—
Showing herself thy queen as well as bride.

CONOR.
This is the joy that I have longed to see.
But think not you shall be forgotten here—
No, by my soul! that day shall never come;
But everything that can be, shall be done,
To recompense you for your love.

LAVERCAM.
The joy
Of loving her, is recompense enough;
Although I thank you for your many gifts.

CONOR.
This I do know from things already past—
Having survived the hot, refining fires
Of eighteen tedious years, proving thyself
Of purest gold.

LAVERCAM.
Your praise tastes sweet as dew
To the parched traveller in his hour of thirst—
Making my old soul young again.

CONOR.
Indeed,
You are a good old child; but, then, the soul
Never grows old; but ever young, is still
The same in old age as in youth—a child.

LAVERCAM.
I feel now on my heart of hearts that what
You say of my old childish soul, is true.
Being a child, why may not I be made
King Conor's heir?

CONOR.
Indeed you shall be so.
She is the Oil of Mercy to my heart—
A dreamless rest of repose for my soul!
That heavenly tree whose branches reach above
The stars, bearing ambrosial fruit, whereon
The milk-white doves of Heaven do build their nests,
Cooing celestial music for my soul.

LAVERCAM.
May Heaven's sweet dews rest ever on its leaves,
Enriching her pure soil, while other lands
Are dry.

CONOR.
As there is but one Sun in Heaven,
So there is one Daidra here on earth.
Her words are like the honey of fresh flowers,
That has no bitter in it—goldenly pure—
Nourishing as sweet.

LAVERCAM.
Indeed, she has no peer.

CONOR.
Oh! when she speaks, it is above all songs:
But when she sings, she brings down Heaven on earth;
But when she ceases song, or speech, she leaves
A silence in the world deeper than Love
Or Death! You know she owes her life to me.
When Feidlim's, son of Delas, wife lay in
With her, Caffa, the Druid, prophesied
That she would bring destruction on the land—
Calling her name Daidra, which doth mean
Alarm—that Morning Star of heavenly love,
Whose rising brings monition to the world.
But I said, “No, she shall not die, but live,
And, after she is grown, shall be my wife.”
Which will be now but in a few short days.
Poor fools! they did not know that I had power
To prophesy as well as they. For she
Has been here eighteen glorious summers, yet
Has brought no sorrow on the land. Had she
Been slain, my present joy will show how much
My sorrow would have been. Be kind to her,
And I will raise you from your present low
Estate of nurse, into that loftier one
Of Foster-mother to the Queen.

LAVERCAM.
For which
I never shall forget to give you thanks.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

The Bower of Bards, on the border of a beautiful lake near Eman. Enter Naisa with his harp in his hand.
NAISA.
[Naisa sings to his harp.
SONG.

Enter Daidra.
Beautiful is the dame that passes by.

DAIDRA.
But what good does beauty do, when there are
No youths to woo?

NAISA.
Such beauty as thine is,
Methinks, should raise up wooers from the dead.

DAIDRA.
Why not inspire the living then?

NAISA.
Because
It breathes but only for the dead.

DAIDRA.
Why so?
I took you for rare flesh and blood. Then why?

NAISA.
Does not the King of Ulster call you his?

DAIDRA.
Would it were so—then I were Queen indeed.

NAISA.
Then why thus talk to me?

DAIDRA.
Art thou not King?

NAISA.
Who told you so?

DAIDRA.
My eyes—my heart—my soul;
All tell me thou art King.

NAISA.
You have been taught
This thing! Sons of a King we are, indeed,
Of Usna's line—by Conor's power usurped.

DAIDRA.
Vile, perfidious wretch!

NAISA.
Mark how you talk!
I hear you are to be his wife?

DAIDRA.
His wife!
Never to be.

NAISA.
But he will make you his.

DAIDRA.
If you permit him, he may do me so;
But not unless you do; which, if you do,
I care not whose I am.

NAISA.
Whose would you be?

DAIDRA.
Have I not said? You know I have—but yours—
And only yours!

NAISA.
But how can you be mine—
Betrothed to him?

DAIDRA.
Betrothed is not to be,
But only in suspense.

NAISA.
But he will make
You his.

DAIDRA.
Not if my choice will make me not.

NAISA.
But how can this be done?

DAIDRA.
That lives with you.

NAISA.
But here, in Eman, it were death to both!

DAIDRA.
But there are other lands as fair—more fair
To me, wert thou but there, I here.

NAISA.
Then thou
Wouldst fly with me?

DAIDRA.
I would—like Noah's Dove
Sent on the wings of Morning to the Sun—
Fly with thee to the uttermost parts of earth!

NAISA.
But I have apprehensions for thy sake.

DAIDRA.
Is it to avoid me that you put me off?

NAISA.
Would any one refuse to enter Heaven,
Were the gates unlocked?

DAIDRA.
One unworthy might.

NAISA.
Would any soul, worthy or not, refuse
To fly from Hell, when he could enter Heaven?

DAIDRA.
One who had “apprehensions” might. True love
Deals not in “apprehensions.” But, perhaps,
I do not understand what you may mean
By leaving Hell for Heaven.

NAISA.
Why, living here
One day without thy heavenly love.

DAIDRA.
Then you
Are not in Hell, but safe in Heaven; for you
Can never live without my love. As well
Might yonder Moon above pretend to shine
Outside of the Eternity of God,
As you from the far-reachings of my love!
[She hits him with an apple.
There, now, take that as sample of my love!
A stroke now of disgrace throughout the world,
If you do take me not!

NAISA.
Depart from me!
For if you tarry, you will bring disgrace
Upon us both!

DAIDRA.
I will not go away,
But try your heart with one of my sweet songs.
Give me your harp.
[She takes the harp.
Now listen to my soul!
[She plays on the harp, accompanying it with her voice.
SONG.

NAISA.
SONG.

DAIDRA.
My husband in perspective.

NAISA.
Truly so—
Fruition's Rose born in the bud of hope.
Thus do I place upon your brow the crown
Of my most fervent love!

DAIDRA.
Ay, such a crown
As any Angel might be proud to wear.

NAISA.
An Angel does wear it.

DAIDRA.
You talk as though
A star had just been born in Heaven—your voice,
The music of its singing.

NAISA.
Our talk should
Be starry when we talk of stars. You look
Like Venus when she rose up from the Sea!

DAIDRA.
Wearing the Crown of God's dear love, you lift
Me far above all stars in saying so.

NAISA.
She needs no lifting who resides in Heaven.
Your presence makes this world like Eden was
Before the fall—an everlasting spring!

Enter Ainli and Ardan.
AINLI.
What heavenly songs were those? What have we here?
Who played upon that harp?

NAISA.
The Queen of Song,
Of Beauty, Love, and Heaven!

AINLI.
What is her name?

NAISA.
Daidra is her name.

AINLI.
What! Conor's wife?
Naisa! what are you about? Do you
Not know that Caffa prophesied that she
Would bring destruction on this land?

NAISA.
He lied!
The Beautiful, the Good, the True can bring
Only the Beautiful, the Good, the True.
But were it so, has she not flung at me
That which will bring disgrace upon us all,
If I receive her not?

AINLI.
Then, if you do,
Evil will come of it! Now mark my words.

NAISA.
But we can fly with her where Conor ne'er can come.

AINLI.
Then let us fly; for if you take
Her not, you cannot live with her—but die!

NAISA.
Then let us go to Alba where we can;
For there is not a single soldier there,
Who would not join us joyfully—besides,
The Alban King hates Conor as he does
The Devil!

AINLI.
Then let us depart in haste
With three times fifty men of might—the same
Number of women; three times fifty hounds;
And our attendants three times fifty more.

ABDAN.
They say that he is wise in many things.
Having studied Magic.

NAISA.
The Devil's lore.
His presence, like some star of Night, whose rays
Are outer darkness—black as that which wombed
The universe before the world was made—
Whose shadow, down the abysmal depths of space,
Sheds mildew on the souls of men—brings death
To all our House!

AINLI.
He loves nobody but
Himself—his only maker being Power.

ARDAN.
They say he sees Visions.

NAISA.
Spectres of the dead!
Wandering ghosts of our departed Sires
Buried in prime of life to make him King—
Coming to torture him with sight of Hell,
Before his hastening death!

AINLI.
For just as he
Planned theirs, so will he work our early death!
I see him in my mind's eye, now, at home,
Planning our sudden fall!

ARDAN.
I doubt it not;
He is a Upas tree that poisons all
The birds that chance to light upon his boughs!

Enter Caffa.
CAFFA.
I come to make Daidra now your wife.
I place this Bridal-Chaplet on her brow—
[Placing it on her brow.
(Richer never adorned the brow of queen)
Making her Marriage Morning one long life
Of nuptial joy—chief lustre of her love—
Blossoms of that supernal Diadem,
Celestial virtue, which adorns her soul.
These plumes, plucked from the radiant wings of Birds
Of Paradise, enrich the spotless brow
Of this fair household Dove. This I must speak,
To give exalted virtue her own due.
The bashful, recluse life she loves to live,—
Blooming unseen, save by the one she loves—
(To whom she does express her heavenly sweets)
Better than popular courts of empty power,
Or noisy flattery. Her whole delights
Live in the circle of his embraces here.
Now, in the Name of God, who dwells in Heaven,
(Who is the Female married to the Male.)
I make divine At-one-ment of you two.
[Joining their hands.
Like a great Reaper of the golden sheaves,
Go, like a god, into the Folds of Men,
Gathering rich Harvests of their heavenly love.

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE V.

Conor's Private Apartment in the Palace of Eman. Enter Gannan to Conor.
CONOR.
What now? how is Daidra?

GANNAN.
She is fled,
Great Sovereign,—gone with Usna's Sons!

CONOR.
Gone with Usna's Sons? Gone where?

GANNAN.
God knows,
Great Sovereign! for I cannot tell!

CONOR.
How know
You she is gone then?

GANNAN.
Because she is not here,
Great Sovereign!

CONOR.
Then your head shall pay for this!
I put her in your care,—commanded you
To take good care of her; now you inform me
She is gone. Call Lavercam! Search all the house!
Search every corner in the mansion, till
You find her out; or, by God's Heavens! your blood
Shall flow for it! Out of my sight! nor ever let
Me see your face, until you bring her back!
Call Lavercam! tell her to come to me!
Send out the guard—from Esro all around
To Binedar! Away!

GANNAN.
I will, great King.
[Exit.
Enter Lavercam.
Well, Lavercam! what hellish news is this?
When did Daidra go?

LAVERCAM.
Last night, I think—
About the midnight hour; but did not miss her
Until this morning.

CONOR.
But why did she go?

LAVERCAM.
As well may you inquire why birds migrate
From North to South in Winter time, or mate
In Spring.

CONOR.
Who stole her off?

LAVERCAM.
Her mate, no doubt,
Naisa, who must love her as his life,—
For none but love would run so great a risk.

CONOR.
How did he enter where she was? You were
Commanded not to let any one see
Her face.

LAVERCAM.
Nor did lie ever see her face
In any room within this house.

CONOR.
How did
He see her then?

LAVERCAM.
They must have met by stealth
Upon the Plain.

CONOR.
But how could they have met,
She knowing nothing of such man?

LAVERCAM.
That is
Far more than I can tell. You cannot shut
Love out. Though blind, yet he can see farther
Than any mortal with ten thousand eyes,—
All Cherub-like, around, above, beneath.

CONOR.
Where think you she is gone?

LAVERCAM.
Where could they go,
But into Scotland?

CONOR.
Surely nowhere else.
Perfidious wretch! There will I, also, go,
And bring her back, or lose my life there else!

LAVERCAM.
Be not too rash. Reflect before you act.
You know that Scotland's King is Conor's foe.

CONOR.
How shall I win them back? Now let me see.
I have it now. Leave me alone. I am
In trouble far beyond all words to tell.
[Exit Lavercam.
Now will I use the cunning of my soul.—
All the vile schemes of infinite treachery,—
To the damning of my soul forever more,—
But to revenge myself on that damned fiend!
By my Eternal God! I will not sleep,
Either by night or day, until I find
Sure means to wreak swift vengeance on his soul!
Now, then, to seek my Nobles,—there to learn
Who is my friend or foe. Now, Hell! rejoice.

Enter Caffa.
CAFFA.
You say you wish to be a Proselyte?

CONOR.
I do—for, ever since poor Ethnea died,
I have been weary of the world! I want
Some burial-place for my dead child of Hope—
My Bird of Paradise, which once took Heaven
By storms of Happiness—singing aloft!
Some solid ground above the waves of this
Deep sea, where my lone Dove can rest her wings—
Anchoring her feet from her long, tiresome flight!
Some place where I can lie down with my soul,
And be at peace!

CAFFA.
That Resting-place is Heaven!
Religion has the only Key that can
Unlock the Gates of Paradise, where you
Can find what you now seek—eternal joy.

CONOR.
Then I would follow her to that sweet Place.

CAFFA.
There you will find the heavenly Joy you seek,
Guarded by million Cherubim of Light.
You see yon evergreen Mistletoe bough,
Making eternal Paradise up there?
Such are the joys Religion brings the soul.
I now will cut it with this golden-knife.
You see it is an Emblem of God's love—
Perennial as the joy it emulates—
As changeless as the Heaven's eternal love—
Wearing its Spring in Winter as in Spring.
So will Man flourish in eternal youth,
If he be true to God—true to himself;
If not, he will decay like flowers in Fall—
Casting his hopes away upon the world,
Like leaves from some deciduous tree, to rot—
Never to flourish in his soul again!
With this all man's diseases can be cured;
Hence it is called, The Healer of us All.

CONOR.
Would I had known this when my wife was ill.

CAFFA.
But you were ignorant then—dead in your sins;
Now, you are wakened from the death of life,
To circle in the likeness of God's love,
As Stars do, drinking sunshine from the Sun.

CONOR.
They say that you can raise the dead to life?

CAFFA.
They who report this thing of me, speak truth.

CONOR.
Some men need Miracles for their belief—
Their souls' conviction needing works, not words.
Now, such a man am I. I have no faith
In anything that man can say, unless
He prove it by some mighty work, proportioned
To the magnitude of the truth he teaches.
To touch my heart, my eyes must be convinced.
Reaching my heart, depends on something more
Than hearing—feeling being the naked truth.
Hence my skepticism on Religious points.
Now, could mine eyes bear witness to this thing—
Vouchsafing to my soul the truth my soul
Desires the most to know—how gladly would
I trumpet to the world that the dead live
Again. How long since your Slessama died?

CAFFA.
Just eighteen years.

CONOR.
Yet, you affirm that you
Have seen her often since?

CAFFA.
Often since she
Departed life—five hundred times at least.

CONOR.
How looked she when she died?

CAFFA.
Angelic! even
In death she looked more beautiful than life;
So, while she slumbered on this breast of love,
She breathed her soul out in the arms of Heaven!

CONOR.
At what time did she die?

CAFFA.
At three o'clock
In the morning.

CONOR.
Beautiful time to die.

CAFFA.
Her eyes were of that neutral violet tint,
Whose soft, serenity of saintly glow
Lay in the shadows of her moonlike brow,
Like Heaven at twilight, under some clear lake
Born of the crystal of the Eternal Wells.
She tranced my spirit as the sky is tranced
When some new singing Star is born in Heaven.
Down from the Alpine peaks of her white youth,
She came, crowned with the snows of innocence,
White as the bays the Angels wear in Heaven.

CONOR.
Was it by your own will, or hers, she came?

CAFFA.
Partly by mine—partly by hers—her love
For me, as mine for her, inspiring us
To reunite again on earth.

CONOR.
Does she
Respond always, by coming, to that will?

CAFFA.
Always—her coming being the consequence
Of that eternal love which causes her
To come.

CONOR.
Could you not will that same strong will
To bring her here before us now?

CAFFA.
I can.

CONOR.
So that mine eyes can see her, as it did
When she was living in the flesh?

CAFFA.
I can—
Precisely as they did when you beheld
Her first standing beside me as my bride.

CONOR.
Then, by my soul! if you will do this thing,
I will believe not only that the soul
Can live again, but be your Proselyte,
In deeds of holiest righteousness, for life.
Now call her up!

CAFFA.
This I can never do
For any man until his eyes are couched;
For an unclouded eye alone can see,
The soul of heavenly love transfigured here
On earth, as it is glorified in Heaven.

CONOR.
Then couch my eyes.

CAFFA.
This you must do yourself
By deeds of heavenly love. This opens them
To see not only all the beautiful things
Of earth, but all the wonderful things of Heaven.

CONOR.
But what are deeds of heavenly love?

CAFFA.
Such deeds
Of holiness as have no hell in them;
The incarnation of the will of God
In active wisdom of celestial use—
The sweet melodious harmony of love.

CONOR.
Then I can never see you raise the dead,
If I must wait perfection in this life;
For what I cannot understand to do,
Can never give me eyes to see it done.

CAFFA.
Wisdom is light; by drinking in this light,
The soul is purified to see what was
Invisible before for want of it;
The only fruit of that celestial Tree
Can save the hungry soul from perishing.

CONOR.
Give me this Angels' food—this Bread of Heaven.
Methinks you feed me only on the leaves.

CAFFA.
One nourishes the soul—the other heals.

CONOR.
Then rub some in mine eyes, that I may see
The dead come back to life again. If not
Slessama, raise my Ethnea from the grave.
Let me but see her once before I die,
And I will know the soul can live again
After the body's death—that we shall see
Each other in the world beyond the grave—
And I will sacrifice all hopes in time
For the attainment of that glorious end.
Will you not raise her up?

CAFFA.
Were I to raise
Her up, you could not see her with blind eyes.

CONOR.
Raise her—then I will tell you whether she
Is raised or not.

CAFFA.
This I can never do,
But by the enchantment of sweet songs—
Music being the language of the skies—
The tongue by which the Angels talk to God.

CONOR.
Then sing—for God's sake sing! Raise up your wife—
Then mine—that I may know, beyond dispute,
There is no Magic in the web of it.

[Caffa performs enchantment, during which the atmosphere all around is suffused with the most celestial odors from the opening roses of Angels' Songs, while chanting the following
INVOCATION.

[The Spirit of Slessama, as Lavercam, arrayed in milk-white shining Angel-robes, appears at the back of the Stage, attended by celestial Spirits singing.
CONOR.
But I see nothing! All is dark as night!
Then why this ecstasy? Why all this talk?
Is Caffa mad?

CAFFA.
Mad with divine delight!
Look at Slessama there, standing before
Your eyes, shining in Angels' robes of fire!

CONOR.
I see nothing but darkness now—around—
Above—beneath!

CAFFA.
Because of the great light.
[Lavercam passes slowly out, attended by the same Spirits singing.
Heard you no songs?

CONOR.
No songs at all—no sounds,
Save your own voice.

CAFFA.
Then are your ears most gross—
Your eyes irrevocably blind! They must
Be purged by the leaves from the Tree of Life.

CONOR.
Now do I know you cannot raise the dead.

CAFFA.
Did I not say you could not see the souls
Of the departed with blind eyes?

CONOR.
Blind eyes!
I am not blind. My eyes are good as yours.
I see. It is not that my eyes are blind,
But you, by playing false, would put them out.
You throw the dust of too much light in them.

CAFFA.
Pure diamond-dust ground off by Heaven's own wheels
Gyrating in the eternal clock, whose bell
Of gold will soon be heard tolling thy death,
With blindfold swing, to all the living stars!

CONOR.
But try again—raise up my Ethnea now.

CAFFA.
Would you behold her face just as she died?

CONOR.
No parley now—but raise her from the grave!
I want none of your darkness, but pure light.
If you do fail this time, the thing is sure,
That none of God's High Priests can raise the dead;
Not only so, but that the dead live not.
If you will raise her now, I will believe you yet.
If not, then never mention Heaven again;
For I will not believe in Heaven or Hell!

CAFFA.
Now, then, prepare thy soul to look on her!

CONOR.
I am prepared. Now raise her up.

CAFFA.
[Caffa performs incantation, chanting the following
INVOCATION.
[The Spirit of Ethnea appears at the back of the Stage, arrayed in bloody robes. Celestial music heard in Heaven.

CONOR.
[On his knees.
The Lord have mercy on my soul!

CAFFA.
Ah, ha!
Do the dead live again? Are you convinced?
Why all this ecstasy? Why all this talk?
Is she not something more than night? Look up!
Hide not thine eyes, but look upon her face.
Methinks the darkness is too great for thee!
Thine eyes are out! thou art struck blind by Truth,
Like poor Elymas for impiety!
Methinks I hear the azure Bell of Heaven,
Whose clapper is the Sun, tolling thy death,
With blindfold swing, to all the Stars in Hell!
Art thou converted now? But hark! she speaks!

SPIRIT OF ETHNEA.
Conor! prepare to meet thy God!

[Vanishes.
CONOR.
Away!
The vision of thy loveliness has struck
Me blind forever!

CAFFA.
Now, then, she is gone!

CONOR.
What! gone? Oh! call her back! Do call her back!
Let me but gaze upon her face once more!

CAFFA.
Why not do so when she was here? Why put
Your hands over your eyes, if you did wish
To see her face? No, you did not—nor will
I ever call her back again.

CONOR.
No more?

CAFFA.
No more forever more.

CONOR.
Oh! God! Oh! God!
Then I shall never see her more!

CAFFA.
You will.

CONOR.
Again? But when?

CAFFA.
At the LAST DAY!

CONOR.
Oh! God!
May that Day never come!

CAFFA.
It will. I hear
The Clock of Eternity tolling now
Thy midnight hour of Doom! The Dawn is nigh,
Which ushers in the Everlasting Day!
Night is this life; Day is the life to come!
Remember what thy wife has said; she lives
And loves thee still—for love survives the grave;
This thou hast seen with thine own mortal eyes—
“Prepare to meet thy God!”—Farewell!

[Exit.
CONOR.
Farewell!
She warned me in that visionary undertone
Of sad soprano, saints do when they speak
Of their own graves—something between pure speech
And solemn whispers—such as good men use
When speaking of the dead! Thus spoke she low—
Laying her hand upon her sad heart—thus—
Sobbing the while she spoke—a wintry fear
Raging, like wildfire, through my heart of hearts!
“Prepare to meet thy God!”—I will. Farewell!

[Exit.
Curtain Falls.