University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

A wood.
Enter Hubert and a Huntsman.
Hub.
No answer to our shouts but mocking echo?
Where are our fellow huntsmen? Why, they vanished
Like mist before the sun, and left us here
Lost in the briary mazes.

Hunts.
Shame on the rogues
For this their treatment. But look upwards, Hubert,
See what a mighty storm hangs right above us.

Hub.
The day is in its shroud while yet an infant;
And Night with giant strides stalks o'er the world,
Like a swart Cyclops, on its hideous front
One round, red, thunder-swollen eye ablaze.

Hunts.
Now mercy save the peril-stricken man,
Who 'mongst his shattered canvas sits aghast
On the last sinking plank alone, and sees
The congregated monsters of the deep
For his dead messmates warring all, save one
That leers upon him with a ravenous gaze,
And whets its iron tusks just at his feet:
Yet little heeds his wide and tearless eye
That, or the thunder of the mountain flood
Which Destiny commissions with his doom;
Where the wild waters rush against the sky,
Far o'er the desolate plain, his star of hope
In mockery gleams, while Death is at his side.

[lightning.
Hub.
That flash hath rent the heavens; this way for shelter.

Hunts.
Some steps above there stands a noble oak,
That from the sun roofs ever-during night
With its thickwoven firmament of leaves:
Thither betake we.

[Exeunt.
Enter Floribel.
Flor.
Hence did I seem to hear a human voice,
Yet there is nought, save a low moaning sound,
As if the spirits of the earth and air
Were holding sad and ominous discourse.
And much I fear me I have lost my path;
Oh how these brambles tear; here 'twixt the willows;
Ha! something stirs; my silly prattling nurse
Says that fierce shaggy wolves inhabit here,
And 'tis in sooth a dread and lonely place;
There, there again; a rustling in the leaves. Enter Hesperus.

'Tis he at last; why dost thou turn away
And lock thy bosom from my first embrace?
I am so tired and frightened; but thou'rt here;
I knew thou wouldst be faithful to thy promise,
And claim me openly. Speak, let me hear thy voice,
Tell me the joyful news.

Hesp.
Aye, I am come
In all my solemn pomp; Darkness and Fear,
And the great Tempest in his midnight car,
The sword of lightning girt across his thigh,
And the whole dæmon brood of night, blind Fog
And withering Blight, all these are my retainers;
How: not one smile for all this bravery?
What think you of my minstrels, the hoarse winds,
Thunder, and tuneful Discord? Hark, they play.
Well piped, methinks; somewhat too rough, perhaps.

Flor.
I know you practise on my silliness,
Else I might well be scared. But leave this mirth,
Or I must weep.

Hesp.
'Twill serve to fill the goblets
For our carousal; but we loiter here,
The bridemaids are without; well-picked thou'lt say,
Wan ghosts of woe-begone, self-slaughtered damsels
In their best winding sheets; start not, I bid them wipe
Their gory bosoms; they'll look wondrous comely;
Our link-boy, Will o' the Wisp, is waiting too
To light us to our grave—bridal I mean.

Flor.
Ha! how my veins are chilled—why, Hesperus!

Hesp.
What hero of thy dreams art calling, girl?
Look in my face—Is't mortal? Dost thou think
The voice that calls thee is not of a mouth
Long choaked with dust? What, though I have assumed
This garb of flesh, and with it the affections,
The thoughts of weakness and mortality?
'Twas but for thee; and now thou art my bride;
Lift up thine eyes and smile—the bride of Death.

Flor.
Hold, hold. My thoughts are wildered. Is my fancy
The churlish framer of these fearful words,
Or do I live indeed to such a fate?
Oh! no, I recollect; I have not waked
Since Hesperus left me in the twilight bower.

Hesp.
Come, we'll to our chamber,
The cypress shade hangs o'er our stony couch,
A goodly canopy; be mad and merry;
There'll be a jovial feast among the worms.
Fiends, strew your fiercest fire about my heart, [aside.

Or she will melt it.

Flor.
Oh, that look of fury!
What's this about my eyes? ah! deadly night,
No light, no hope, no help.

Hesp.
What! Darest thou tremble
Under thy husband's arm, darest think of fear?
Dost dread me, me?

Flor.
I know not what to dread,
Nor what to hope; all's horrible and doubtful;
And coldness creeps—

Hesp.
She swoons, poor girl, she swoons.
And, treacherous dæmons, ye've allowed a drop
To linger in my eyes. Out, out for ever.
I'm fierce again. Now shall I slay the victim
As she lies senseless? ah! she wakes; cheer up,
'Twas but a jest.

Flor.
A dread and cruel one;
But I'll forgive you, if you will be kind;
And yet 'twas frightful.

Hesp.
Why, 'twere most unseemly
For one marked for the grave to laugh too loud.

Flor.
Alas! he raves again. Sweetest, what mean you
By these strange words?

Hesp.
What mean I? Death and murder,
Darkness and misery. To thy prayers and shrift;
Earth gives thee back; thy God hath sent me for thee;
Repent and die.

Flor.
Oh, if thou willest it, love,
If thou but speak it with thy natural voice,
And smile upon me; I'll not think it pain,
But cheerfully I'll seek me out a grave,
And sleep as sweetly as on Hesperus' breast.
He will not smile, he will not listen to me.
Why dost thou thrust thy fingers in thy bosom?
Oh search it, search it; see if there remain
One little remnant of thy former love,
To dry my tears with.

Hesp.
Well, speak on; and then,
When thou hast done thy tale, I will but kill thee.
Come tell me all my vows, how they are broken,
Say that my love was feigned, and black deceit;
Pour out thy bitterest, till untamed wrath
Melt all his chains off with his fiery breath,
And rush a-hungering out.

Flor.
Oh piteous heavens!
I see it now, some wild and poisonous creature
Hath wounded him, and with contagious fang
Planted this fury in his veins. He hides
The mangled fingers; dearest, trust them to me,
I'll suck the madness out of every pore,
So as I drink it boiling from thy wound
Death will be pleasant. Let me have the hand,
And I will treat it like another heart.

Hesp.
Here 'tis then; [stabs her.

Shall I thrust deeper yet?

Flor.
Quite through my soul,—
That all my senses, deadened at the blow,
May never know the giver. Oh, my love,
Some spirit in thy sleep hath stolen thy body
And filled it to the brim with cruelty.
Farewell! and may no busy deathful tongue
Whisper this horror in thy waking ears,
Lest some dread desperate sorrow urge thy soul
To deeds of wickedness. Whose kiss is that?
His lips are ice. Oh my loved Hesperus,
Help!

[Dies.
Hesp.
What a shriek was that; it flew to heaven,
And hymning angels took it for their own.
Dead art thou, Floribel; fair, painted earth,
And no warm breath shall ever more disport
Between those rubious lips: no, they have quaffed
Life to the dregs, and found death at the bottom,
The sugar of the draught. All cold and still;
Her very tresses stiffen in the air.
Look, what a face: had our first mother worn
But half such beauty, when the serpent came,
His heart, all malice, would have turned to love.
No hand but this, which I do think was once
Cain, the arch-murtherer's, could have acted it.
And I must hide these sweets, not in my bosom;
In the foul earth. She shudders at my grasp;
Just so she laid her head across my bosom
When first—oh villain! which way lies the grave?

[Exit.
Enter Hubert and a Huntsman.
Hub.
It is a fearful and tempestuous time:
The concave firmament, the angel's bridge
O'er the world's day and night, is visibly
Bowed down and bent beneath its load of thunder;
And through the fiery fissures of the clouds
Glistens the warfare of armed elements,
Bellowing defiance in earth's stunned ear,
And setting midnight on the throne of day.

Hunts.
The roar has ceased; the hush of intercalm
'Numbs with its leaden finger Echo's lips,
And angry spirits in mid havoc pause,
Premeditating ruin in their silence.

Hub.
Hard by should stand a lone and tattered shed,
Where some tired woodsman may by chance be stretched,
Watching his scanty food among the coals;
There may we chafe our drenched and chilly limbs.

Hunts.
The forest has more tenants than I knew:
Look underneath this branch; seest thou not yonder,
Amongst the brushwood and the briary weeds,
A man at work?

Hub.
My life upon't some miser,
Who in the secret hour creeps to his hoard,
And, kneeling at the altar of his love,
Worships that yellow devil, gold.

Hunts.
'Tis buried;
And now he stamps the sod down, that no light
May spy his mistress; with what a doleful look
He marks its grave, and backward walks away,
As if he left his all of sight behind.

Hub.
Let us steal towards it; I would have a peep
Upon this hidden jewel.

[Exeunt.
Enter Hesperus.
Hesp.
[Bells at a distance.

[Exit.