University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

AFRAEL.
Exact as echo to a calling voice,
Which takes up the first syllable before
The second's uttered! Thou respondest ere
I could complete my song to call thee forth.
O comprehensive Noema!

NOEMA.
I did not hear thee.
But wherefore hast thou come? Oh! what a dawn!
The air is in the clutches of the wind,
And violently 'gainst its violence
Struggles and shrieks. Dust, leaves, and waifs of nature,
Are whirled and tossed together overhead;
The clouds are torn and frayed; and the sky looks
Like a dim canvas stippled o'er with red.
Oh, I am sore afraid!

AFRAEL.
Fear not, fair thing!
For though the hollow globe, and all that swims
In its conception, should be cracked, and run
To one chaotic mass, my love should make
Another shell around thee, and my wings
Brood on thy part and keep it safe and warm.
Oh, let me show thee how!

[He draws close to her, but she falls back.
NOEMA.
No! no! Stand off!
Nor yet again envelop thou this form,
Which is too frail for such encompassing!
Why hast thou come? I told thee not to come.
Thou dost not love me, or thou hadst not come!
Thou lovest thyself only.

AFRAEL.
Say not so,
Until thou knowest what has brought me here.
I have a mighty message from the skies.

NOEMA.
About the Tower?

AFRAEL.
No! About thee and me.
Time and Eternity are in thy hands,
And deal them as thou wilt. Thou canst on me
Bestow the flesh-fed flame of mortal life,
And keep it by thee till it be consumed
Unto the final flicker; or thou mayst
Condemn this selfish unsubstantial light
To glow in void unprofitably, through
The weary watches of Eternity.
O speak! then act! and with one magic touch
Transform me into human?

NOEMA.
What! Dost mean
I have a wand to pass thee into flesh,
And thou wouldst have me use it!

AFRAEL.
Ay! even that!
Now conjure quickly, and delay me not,
For all my plumes are ready for the trick.

NOEMA.
How? Change to flesh a spirit! lop thy wings,
And make thy course pedestrian! With my arts
Inject a carnal current in thy veins,
Now lightly stirred by rippling purity!
Dull thy bright shape, put thine effulgence out,
And with base body hobble thee to Earth!
O what a foul, vile sorceress should I be,
Sooth could I work such wicked miracle,
If I conceived to do it!

AFRAEL.
But thou must.
The skies consent, and I implore thee to't!

NOEMA.
Never! Though sky take part against the sky,
And thou against thyself, I will not do it!
Oh! couldst thou with celestial thought surmise
How meagre, starved, and mean a thing is life,—
A cry, a consciousness, a little fume,
And then oblivion,—thou wouldst sooner ask
Some angry star to shrivel up thy wings
And burn thy being with them, than decline
To such a shrunk condition!

AFRAEL.
Thou forget'st!
Unto such change I such a change should bring,
Life would be life no longer, but would house
A more than mortal guest, transcendent Love!
Oh! never in this planet of my hope
Was such a perfect passion e'er conceived,
As we will breed between us, to endow
The starved with strength, the mean and meagre make
Rounded and whole with noble sustenance!
Nay, dally not with argument, but haste
To clasp the grand conclusion!

NOEMA.
Oh! I cannot!
I might as well go league to build the Tower,
As against Heaven attempt such blasphemy!
But who hath promised thee that I can wield
A power so diabolical?

AFRAEL.
Voices,
Unseen, untouched, that were but voice alone,
Yet with authoritative cadence spoke.

NOEMA.
Oh, thou hast dreamt it all,—if spirits dream,—
And chance they do nought else! Thou soon wouldst find,
If this imputed virtue I essayed,
Thou art the sport of sleepy phantasy.

AFRAEL.
Come then, essay! Exert thy mortal love!
For herein, said the Voices, lies thy spell,
And prove it on me!

NOEMA.
'Tis impossible!
For I have no such craft, and if I had,
I would not so abuse it.

AFRAEL.
Then 'tis plain,
Thou lov'st me not.

NOEMA.
Oh, but I do!

AFRAEL.
Thou dost!
Then bring that wide avowal to a point,
And do with it as thou must do with me,
Making it definite! Dost think that I,
If I should see thee sinking, would not save?
And wilt thou unto me, for ever tossed
On the vague sea of space and shoreless time,
Refuse the restful haven of thy heart?
Tell me thou lov'st me not, and I will go,
A wandering sigh amid the homeless stars.
But if thou lov'st me, love me as Love loves,
And open all thy portals to my knock!

NOEMA.
Why dost thou drive me thus to bay, when there
I needs must turn and rend thee? Afrael!
How I do love thee, neither human voice
Nor song of Spirit ever could devise,
Though they should vanquish Silence, and usurp
The realms of Time with overrunning speech!
But Love is not the monarch of the Earth,
Or with one word from his sufficing mouth
Were sorrow swift abolished. He is but
A poor and scorned conspirator who seeks
To topple down the mighty from their stools,
Wealth, place, presumption, all the filthy brood
Of our gross getting; to dethrone dull pomp,
Parade, and vanity, the vulgar throng
That wait upon that despot, pride of life,
Whose aping courtiers all the world would be.
And these are his inveterate enemies,
Who, is he caught red-handed in the game,
Straight brand him as a rebel to their rule,
Then leave him to the hootings of the crowd.

AFRAEL.
But we would be his co-conspirators,
To—

NOEMA.
—More than share his doom and penalties!
He is immortal, so they cannot kill him,
Maltreat him as they will, and he survives
Their racks and mocks, ever to plot afresh.
But not so they who would assume his cause.
They can be slain outright, or left to live
With mortifying hearts, or,—direst end!—
Buy from convention a deserter's peace,
And creeping to the alien camp become
The loudest of the persecuting train!

AFRAEL.
Then let them slay us! I am well content
To perish in thy arms, so once I live there!

NOEMA.
Oh! I but speak in vain. Thou art a Spirit
As I so oft have told thee, and the things
Of clay and flesh thou apprehendest not.
I am a slave!—I am not free as thou!—
I have a husband, a contracted lord,
Who draws my body and service after him,
As in the patient camel's desert march,
The fore-foot draws the hinder.

AFRAEL.
Dost thou love him?

NOEMA.
Oh! do not ask! Can we love what is ill?
Have I not owned I love thee? Let it rest.
For I am his, not thine, and so must keep.
E'en wert thou not a Spirit, but warm flesh,
I could not else have answered thee. Nay, it is
Because thou hast its coarse infection sucked,
I know not how, I needs must—well I must
Break off, nor fence keen fact with wordy foil.
Hadst thou been only Spirit! Now,—go, go!
Nor let me ever gaze upon thee more,
Till with death's eyes I can serenely look,
And bid thee safe farewell!

AFRAEL.
Not verily!
What! Wilt thou be to me like hard sea-face,
The poor white waves keep climbing fondly up,
Only to fall again?

NOEMA.
I am not hard.
I am too soft; else mightst thou here remain.
But by my softness I beseech thee, go!

AFRAEL.
Close but those wild white arms, thou spread'st abroad
In vacant misery, once about my form,
Then will I go!

NOEMA.
I dare not, Afrael!
Lest chance that fearsome spell should 'gin to work,
The Voices told thee of. Thou fold, instead,
Round me thy heavenly wings, but not for long!
And, when they loosen, then quick take the air,
Ere I have time to wish them back again!

[He folds his wings closely round her.
NOEMA.
Oh! what bliss!

AFRAEL.
And wilt thou e'er forget me?

NOEMA.
Never! till darker wings than thine enfold
This weak out-worn automaton of clay.
And I am curtained by oblivion!
Till then, towards thy memory will I gaze,
As in the winter of the world men look
Through bare black branches up to shining stars!
Now, now undo thy wings! Look! all the air
Grows murk and dense! Thou wilt not see thy way.
Go! I abjure thee!—go!

AFRAEL.
Farewell! Farewell!
But shouldst thou ever call me in thy need,
Thy voice will reach me, and my broken wings
Will flutter towards thee!

[He ascends, and is instantly lost in the murky air.