University of Virginia Library

Scene I

Scene, a wood near Magus's Cottage. storm. Magus solo.
MAGUS.
Now doth the vollied and rebellowing thunder
Rock the huge earth, and all the dizzy hills
Quake at his coming, while the arrowy bolt
With ravaging course athwart the dark immense
Comes rushing on its wings of fire—the North
With hoarse congratulation and wild threats
Gives answer to his brother winds that rave
From the three corners of the lurid sky.
The spirits of past time are on the blast,
They leave their misty halls to commune with
The airy footed children of the storm—
Dimly they ride in gleaming steel upon
The vaultings of their cloudy chariots—
O thou omnipotent Love, whose boundless sway
And uncontroll'd dominion boweth down
The Spirits of the Mighty, thou great Despot,
Who bindest in thy golden chains the strong
And the imbecile, thou immortal Pan-Arch
Tyrant o' th'earth and sea whose sunless depth
And desolate Abyss is vivified
And quicken'd at thy bidding—thou vast link
Of the Creation—thou deep sentiment!
Thou only to be understood by those
Who feel thee and aid thy purpose, albeit I summon
Into thy presence Beings whose dark brows
Are furrow'd with the care of pride, whose natures
Hold less congeniality with thine
Than the condenséd, cold compacted wave
To a consuming fire—But to my task!
[He draws a cabalistic ring on the ground
'Tis well! Mishapen imp,
Last born of triform Hecate, hear my voice!
Stand forth and wait my summons, Spirit of Hell!
[DEVIL starts up in the middle of the ring
All hail! All hail! thou solitary power
Whose habitation is the grisly flame
Which guards that gate of Hell that looks along
The measureless deep, whose inky waste divides
The Evil and the Blest—Now weave thy web
Of subtle machination, ply thy power
In such a delicate and important cause
As needs thy chief attention—mark me well!

DEVIL
I come, O I come, at the sound of my name
From the depths and the caverns of Hell where I lie,
I can rush through the torrent and ride on the flame
Or mount on the whirlwind that sweeps thro' the sky—
What wilt thou have me do for thee? Shall I weave
The sunbeams to a crown for thy bald brows?
Shall I ungarter the Plëiades for thee
And twist their glittering periscelides
To keep the hose up on thy minishing calves?
Shall I unchair Cassiopeia's brightness
And fetch her close stool for thee? or pluck the
Nanny-goat
From off the back of that old blade whose haunches
Quiver beneath the feather'd foot of Perseus?
Shall I ungird Orion's strength, or bring thee
A grinder of that mighty snake, whose folds
Far stretching through the unconfined space
Involve seven worlds?

MAGUS
A truce with thine heroics!
A murrain take thine ill tim'd pleasantry!
If thou are not the most impertinent Devil
That ever smelt bitumen, pri'thee hear me.
Affairs of high importance call me hence,
No would I borrow of that usurer
Procrastination, whose vast interest
Is almost higher than his principal.
Procrastination, like the wayward tide,
With imperceptible and secret course
Gains hourly on us till that we are left
No landing place whereon to set our feet—
So lost and tangled is the maze of cares
Protracted and put off from day to day.

DEVIL
What is the end and purport of thy words?
And wherewith can I serve thee?

MAGUS
Thou shalt hear:
For I forthwith upon the yeasty wave,
With hasty expedition of swift oars
Shall now embark—but to thee I commit
(Until such time as I retrace my way)
My loving wife, to guard her chaste and pure
As stainless snow, brush'd by the windy wing
Of Eagle on the stormy mountain top,
Or like the virgin lily, whose rare sweets
Combining with the ambient atmosphere,
Do make a paradise of this fair earth,
So delicate are its odours.

DEVIL
Gentle master,
I would do ought but this—I'd dive i' th'sea,
I'd ride the chariot of the rocking winds
Alarum'd by the thunder's awful knell,
Or from the hornéd corners of the Moon
I'd pluck the charméd flowers that flourish there;
I'd visit far Arcturus, the bright length
Of the Ecliptic and the spangled Lyre,
Or that dim star which in Boötes' wain
Shines nightly, or I'd bring thee gems from out
The stilly chambers of the mighty deep,
The boundless halls of porphyry, where sit
The ancient fathers of the sea with beards
That sweep the burnish'd chrysolite beneath 'em—
All this and more I'd do for thee, for these
Are trifles to that weighty task, to guard
A woman 'gainst her will.

MAGUS
This once, good Friend,
Exert thy power—the task is short—eftsoones
I shall be here again—till then farewell!

[Exit MAGUS.