Chronicles and Characters :: :: University of Virginia Library

Chronicles and Characters

By Robert Lytton (Owen Meredith): In Two Volumes

Lytton, Edward Robert Bulwer Lytton (1831-1891)

[dedication]

VOL.I

PRELUDE.

I.OPIS AND ARGE.

II.

II.CROESUS AND ADRASTUS.

III.

III.GYGES AND CANDAULES.

II.

BOOK II.

III.

BOOK III. ROMANCES.

IV.

BOOK IV.

BOOK V. LEGENDS AND ROMANCES.

VI.

BOOK VI.

VII.

BOOK VII. LEGENDS, BALLADS, AND ROMANCES.

VIII.

BOOK VIII. NARRATIVE, DRAMATIC, AND LYRICAL.

IX.

BOOK IX. HERE AND THERE.

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III.GYGES AND CANDAULES.

[_]

(Herodotus i. 8.)

I

O for the lute whereon Apollo play'd
At Love's own marriage! or the ecstatic string
That ransom'd thy too-soon-recaptured shade,
Renown'd Eurydice, from Hell's hard king!
O for one warbled strain of those that made
Ulysses long to leave his voyaging,
That in my song might now be felt and seen
The beauty rare of King Candaules' Queen!

II

In old Mœonian Lydia, lord of all
Between the blue sea-floors and snowy brows
Of ancient Tmolus, where, by many a wall
Red with the bloom of ripe pomegranate boughs,
From bridge to bridge, the Golden Tide did fall
Thro' silken Sardis, with his bright-hair'd spouse
Dwelt that soft monarch, slave to her sweet eyes,
In gardens green 'neath costly canopies.

III

For he was so enamour'd of his wife,
So sunk in love's soft sea without a shore,
That he no longer lived save in the life
Which her full-flowing loveliness did pour
On his dim passion: all his thoughts were rife
With her red kisses: ever he forbore
State business, and let all things fall asleep
That he might dream, and dream, of beauty deep.

IV

There was no sweetness under the sweet sky
That to the heart-sick king was half so sweet
As all the languorous summer days to lie,
Faint as a fallen rose leaf, at her feet;
To loose his spirit o'er her in a sigh;
And feel, like sunny light and odorous heat,
The bounteous influence of her looks and lips,
And touchings fine of her faint finger-tips.

V

And he would break from solemn council hall,
To breathe within the comfort of her face;
And he would steal from flaring festival,
To sit within her smile in private place;
And oft in midst of grave discourse would fall
To musing mute upon her matchless grace,
Then hurl wild words of passion into air,
Vaunting her perfect limbs and lustrous hair.

VI

But oftenest he with Gyges would discuss
Her unimaginable excellence;
—Gyges, his friend, the son of Dascylus,
A man in honour, and of soberest sense
To disapprove the over-garrulous
Ill-counsell'd king; whom he, with deference,
Rebuked not seldom, pacing pleasant hours
Among the palace halls and garden bowers.

VII

Yet this Candaules, in his foolishness,
(Mad as a man foredoom'd to misery!)
Was anger'd that his friend should aye repress,
With slant cold speech, his fervid ecstacy.
And once he said “But you would wonder less,
Since man's ear is less credulous than his eye,
That I so boast the beauty of my Queen,
If you her unrobed whiteness once had seen.”

VIII

But Gyges cried “Forbid it, gods on high,
That I should see a sight to shame my king!
For woman's robe is woman's modesty.
Surely, a man should only heed the thing
Which only him concerns. And therefore I,
That would my Queen to no dishonour bring,
This wisdom from the words of sages spell:
‘Let no man wish what is to no man well.’”

IX

This Gyges answer'd; and for evermore,
Fearing lest harm unto himself should be,
The foolish king with cautious words forbore;
But evermore the foolish king, for he
Was às a man the Nymphs have frenzied, swore
That his too-much-mistrusting friend should see
The thing he would not. Therefore he replied
“Have thou no fear lest mischief hence betide.

X

“Her shalt thou see, thyself by her unseen;
For in the purple draperies of the door,
By night, what time the unsuspecting queen
Lone, as her wont is when our cups flow o'er,
Moves to the nuptial couch, behind the screen
Of broider'd Tyrian that is drawn before
The inner portal, thou, close-hid, shalt see
Her smooth-limb'd beauty breathing bare to thee.

XI

“Fast by the royal couch for ever stands,
Under a silver lamp, a golden chair;
And, when she comes, she with her own white hands
Lays down her light of gorgeous garments there;
And smoothly slips from out their jewell'd bands
Her lustrous shoulders; and beams shining fair
In the amazèd mirror, ere is slid
Her snowy sweetness 'neath the coverlid.”

XII

Then Gyges, when he found not any way
The monarch's mad design to set aside,
With groaning heart prepared him to obey,
Tho' cursing deep his king's unkingly pride.
And, when night came, from out the banquet they
With guilty steps, like stealthy ghosts, did glide
Thro' wondering chambers dim with woven dyes,
And listening lengths of empty galleries.

XIII

Thus to the nuptial chamber did they steal.
And in the portal's purple curtains there
The king himself did Gyges close conceal,
And bade him watch behind the golden chair
Whereby the queen her beauty should reveal.
Then to the banquet back, without a care,
Went King Candaules, pleased with folly done;
And Gyges with his thoughts was left alone.

XIV

And first self-scorn shut all his sullen sense
Within himself: but soon the odours sweet,
Stream'd from the misty lamps, and that intense
Rich-scented silence, seeming to entreat
Some sound to ease its sumptuous somnolence,
Lured out his thoughts, and made his pulses beat
With wondrous expectation. The dim place
Seem'd aching to be filled up by her face.

XV

Meanwhile, the music out of distant halls
Humm'd like the inland sound of hid sea-shores,
And ghostly laughters lapsed at intervals
Along the faint-lit cold-wall'd corridors;
And portals oped and shut, and then footfalls
That wander'd near, and, over other floors
To other silence, wander'd off again,
Kept up continual throbbing in his brain.

XVI

At length, deep-down the opposing gallery,
From out the long-drawn darkness flash'd a light;
And, peering from his purple privacy,
He spied, with red gold bound and robed in white,
Sole as the first star in a sleepy sky,
That, while men watch it, grows more large and bright,
The slow queen sweeping down the lucid floor;
And in her hand a silver lamp she bore.

XVII

Before her, coming, floated a faint fear
Into his heart who watch'd her whiteness move
Swan-soft along the lamp-lit marble clear,
And, lingering o'er her in the beams above,
The wing'd and folded shadow shift and veer,
Her airy follower, fraught with fretful love.
Thro' all his shaken senses rose vague heat
From the sweet sounding of her sandall'd feet.

XVIII

Anon, she enter'd, and her lamp down-laid
By the smooth-metall'd mirror; and awhile
Stood, slanting low the glory of her head,
And dipp'd her full face in its own warm smile;
Then look'd she sidelong thro' one loosen'd braid
Of her rich hair, as tho' she would beguile
Some love-sick spirit on the air to linger,
Twining a gold curl round her glowing finger.

XIX

But soon she all that twisted gold outshook,
Till over either shining shoulder stream'd
The sudden splendour; and began to unhook
From those white slopes the buckled gems that beam'd
Deep in the mirror's kindling dark, which took
Her mellow image to itself, and gleam'd
With soft surprises, and grew bright and warm
With the delicious phantom of her form.

XX

Her Gyges watch'd, as one that helpless hears
The cataract call him downward. His heart made
Such passionate pealing in his flutter'd ears,
That by his fear he fear'd to be betray'd.
And, but that ever greater with his fears
His raptures grew, he had not so long stay'd;
But, having stay'd so long, he still must stay,
And, having look'd, he may not look away.

XXI

Last, she with listless long-delaying hand
The golden sandals loosed from her white feet,
And loosed from her warm waist the golden band.
The milk-white tunic slided off its sweet
Snow-surfaced slope, and left half bare her bland
Full-orbèd breast. But, in the fainting heat
Of his bewilder'd heart and fever'd sight,
Here Gyges in the curtain groan'd outright.

XXII

She started, as a Nymph of Dian's train,
Surprised, when bathing blithe in forest pool,
By some chance-straggler from the purple plain,
Ere she, quick-flashing thro' the fern-fringed cool,
Her golden darts can from the green weed gain,
Wherewith to pierce the rash low-fronted fool;
And where he cower'd, she, in superb surprise,
Levell'd the lustres of her angry eyes.

XXIII

Then, more with wrath than shame, from breast to brow
Each snowy surface pass'd to rosy red,
The rosy redness pass'd again to snow;
Scornful she sprang into the purple bed,
And plunged her globed and gleaming limbs below
Their silken-fringèd sheath. Forth Gyges fled,
As from the god profaned some mad wretch flies,
Stricken and scorch'd, beneath indignant skies.

XXIV

All down the hollow gallery, after him
The loud stones shouted at his heels: behind
The unseen Fury, sailing fast thro' dim
And dreadful space, breathed like a burning wind
Upon his hair: swift fire in every limb
Seeth'd up and down: night's blackness broke and shined
All round with restless eddyings of the glare
Of that strong vision, flooding the hot air.

XXV

Nor did he, chased by stony echoes, mark
The silly-smiling king, with tumbled wreath,
Stretch hands wine-stain'd to stay him in the dark,
And waft wild whispers thick on heated breath
To win him back. More desperate than the bark
Unrudder'd in the storm, and blind as death,
He rush'd to waste himself in some unknown
Mad morrow, from that wicked midnight grown.

XXVI

But when at last clear-crested Dawn upbroke
The seeming-endless trouble of that night,
And Gyges out of sleepless dream half woke
To wonder at himself, and loathe the light,
And groan beneath the unaccustom'd yoke
Of wrong recall'd, whilst yet on his sick sight
Swam floating gleams of all that glory seen,
And the wish'd image of the much-wrong'd Queen,

XXVII

Even then, whilst smouldering fancy strove, like flame
Choked under kindled weeds, some rainy night
Leaves moist at morn, a sudden summons came
From her whose eyes still scorch'd him. Oh what might
Of dreadful dearness now was in that name,
To mingle sick dismay with mad delight,
And, oh, with what shamed knowledge now must he
Loathe to be seen by whom he longs to see!

XXVIII

Unconscious by what power his powerless feet
Were moved within the light of her deep eyes,
He sank beneath them, smitten by the heat
Of their slow scorn; and, pour'd in agonies
Upon the pavement, did not dare to meet
Looks that grew large and larger, to comprise
The slowly-widening circle of some doom
That deepen'd ever in their sultry gloom.

XXIX

Long while she spake not; and thro' every limb
He felt the silence straining at his heart;
Whilst her remorseless eye, still searching him,
Went to its aim like a dividing dart:
But still faint nearness to the fragrant rim
Of her warm robe dissolved his inmost smart
In dear delight, and still in sumptuous dread
Swift lives of joy seem'd dying. Then she said:

XXX

“Rise! and remember that thou wast a man,
Tho' most unmanly hast thou shamed in thee
Earth's universal manhood. Dare to scan
The monstrous measure of thy wrong to me,
Then find whatever expiation can
Make life not all intolerable. We
Are made one shame together. I that bear,
And thou that didst, this wrong, this wrong must share.”

XXXI

But he, that long'd into her arms to leap,
And, lost in too-completed life, die there,
Swift as a fountain flashes from the deep
Up into sudden sunshine and sweet air,
Sprang, shivering, to his height; and, from its steep
And restless poise 'twixt rapture and despair,
His long-pent passion overflow'd, and he
His full heart, gushing into speech, set free.

XXXII

Then, when he flung into fierce words and few
Recital of the monarch's mandate base,
Wherewith he strove, and strove in vain, there grew
Strange anguish in the changes of her face.
“Enough it seem'd,” so moan'd she, “when I knew
Myself, tho' most unmeriting disgrace,
The fool of outrage. Must a husband's name
Stay ever at the summit of my shame?

XXXIII

“Yet, half, my knowledge of the king divined
In last midnight's intolerable deed
The ignominious madness of his mind.
And, but that nature would so sharply plead
With that unnatural thought, all human kind
(For such wide warrant such wild wrong must need!)
Of human kindness had seem'd emptied quite,
Since love could in such loathly deed delight.

XXXIV

“For thou hast seen what, so to have been seen,
Leaves an eternal blush between us twain.
My blood yet burns where'er thine eyes have been:
And insult unavenged in every vein
Makes memory mad. Me miserable Queen!
Where shall I turn? To whom do I complain?”
“Nay but,” said Gyges, “injured Beauty's child,
Indignant Love, slew him whose gaze defiled

XXXV

His mother's image. That wrong-doer lives
No more in me, that am Love's votary all!”
“Yea, so?” she answer'd. “But the king survives,
And this round base of earth is made too small
To hold such shameless husbands with shamed wives.
The very stones beneath men's heels will call
Disgrace on things so graceless, and express
Scorn of this king of all unkingliness!

XXXVI

“But words waste anger weakly. Therefore choose:
There is no room beneath the all-circling sun
For me, and thee, and him, wherein to lose
The knowledge of the thing which hath been done.
Wherefore to us nought rests but to refuse
To live ourselves, or not let him live on.
Judge thou for both. Die, and I follow thee:
Or, slaying him, live on sole lord of me.”

XXXVII

She ceased with a long sigh; and look'd, less scorn
Than sad self-pity, and dejection deep,
Lowering faint eyelids over eyes forlorn.
But Gyges cried “O that the tomb should keep
In that oblivious night, which hath no morn
To call obstruction cold from senseless sleep,
The silenced sweetness of so fair a face,
And no breath leave of all its breathing grace!

XXXVIII

“Or that those lustrous limbs should ever fade
To fleeting shadow by the lampless shore
Of Orcus, or that lovely form be laid
In urnèd ashes to be seen no more!
But might the half of this dear debt be paid
By hecatombs of lives and seas of gore,
And had the king a hundred lives to lose,
To reach thee thro' them all I still must choose!”

XXXIX

She mused a little; and her intricate eyes,
Orb within orb, grew dark with cruel light.
Then she said slowly “On the place he dies
Where he design'd dishonour yesternight.
But we must risk no rescue, hear no cries;
Sleeping, we slay him swiftly. Briefest fight
With fate is safest counsel. That must be
This night. The headless kingdom falls to thee,

XL

“To thee whatever rests of woman here
Not made the food of Furies such as rise
From deeds like this. And so, from year to year,
We two must learn to bear each other's eyes;
Nay, cling the closer to shut out pale Fear,
And smother Horror up in Love's disguise.
For never now for us, ah never more
Love's chaste auroras! Dewy dawn is o'er.

XLI

“This sun of passion, fed with guilty fire,
Leaps blood-red from the womb of blackest night.
Yet call it lovely names! I must desire
Thy love, and love thee, ay in scorn's despite!
Since my hate help of thy hate doth require.
It were less base to be united quite
Than in this shameful nearness to remain,
One in dishonour, tho' in honour twain.

XLII

“So kiss this crime off!” Suddenly she fell,
A blinding gush of beauty upon his breast.
Thereafter all day long, in surge and swell
Of whirling thoughts, he chased his own unrest
About wild places, till heaven's purple bell
Was dropt with stars, and redden'd round the west;
Then in dark precincts, where the palace shone
New-lit, he paced the impatient hours alone.

XLIII

Ere midnight, thro' the dusky doors he slid,
Drawn like an evil dream adown the dark;
And in the penetralian purples hid
His wicked knife, and crouch'd where he might mark
The stealthy signal, which his steps should bid
To their bad goal; and soon from slumber stark
The King's hard breathing on the silence spread,
And the Queen beckon'd from the treacherous bed.

XLIV

There, bent beneath the winking lamp, those two,
With hearts hard-edged as was their glittering knife,
The senseless King in silken slumber slew,
And, with no moan, from his misusèd life
He fleeted down to Orcus. Then they drew
The dead reluctant weight, thro' silence rife
With horror, o'er the soak'd and slippery floor,
And dropp'd the blood-red ruin at the door.

XLV

So died Candaules, slain for deed obscene:
So fell the Heracleidæ's fared tree.
So Gyges took the kingdom and the Queen:
So wrong was heap'd on wrong, till Fate should be
Accomplish'd. But, by Heaven's high Justice seen,
Not unjudged went the deed. For when, to free
The realm from that usurping hand, men rose,
And shook the throne, and added woes to woes,

XLVI

The god at Delphi sentence strict proclaim'd:
That crown and queen to Gyges should belong,
Since queen and crown the murder'd King had shamed;
Albeit, because wrong is not heal'd by wrong,
Therefore sharp retribution Fate had framed
Far in the folded years, and curses strong
To plague the canker'd brood as yet unbred
From the base getting of that guilty bed.