University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—The Temple of Bacchus, Calydon. Anaitis and other Mænads asleep on the steps. Enter Coresus.
Coresus.
She sleeps: what wearied wildness in that arm
That crowns the head above the twisted vine's
Noon-faded leaves! Spent agitation gives
Strange calmness to her face. There is no calm
Like that upon the sea after the wind
Hath frenzied its blue breast,—as prophecy
The bosom of a Pythoness,—and passed.
She wakes and gathers up diffused dark limbs,
Springing from slumber as a wild beast springs
Forth from its lair.

Anaitis.
Coresus!

Coresus.
Snatch not up
The thyrsus with so tremulous a grasp!
To-night there is high revel in the hills,
Mystic assembly in the deep recess
Of cloven altitudes; meanwhile, for rest
The women lie in heaps about the court,
Their dappled fawn skins laid aside for heat,
Their ruined wreaths of scarlet briony
And fennel-staves lying athwart the limbs,
That gleam the clearer in the glow of sleep.
So shall they stay till eventide. What dream,
Anaitis, thus hath broken thy repose?

Anaitis.
A dream I had—the altar!—Drops of gore!

Coresus.
Ay, thou rememberest how the hinds were torn
In the last chase. Dione cried to see
The fleecy fringes of her nebris dyed
In blood, and fled. Then didst thou catch her hair,
And fling her, as a slender ivy-wand,
Amid the bloody fragments. Thought of this,—
Her horror, thy o'erhasty violence,—
Hath trampled with rough footstep on thy rest.

Anaitis.
It was the altar: one for sacrifice
Was kneeling.

Coresus.
Yea, Dione, suppliant
Beneath thy chastening hand.

Anaitis.
Dione! No.
It was thy blood, Coresus, was the priest's!

Coresus.
Would the god suffer it? Anaitis, wake,
Be sober; I have work for thee to do!
Go forth, and to the maids of Calydon
Break the rich tidings that I bore to thee.

Anaitis.
Whom dost thou seek to gather to our band?

Coresus.
I know two maidens. One is Nephele,
The daughter of Megillus, a fleet roe,
Tethered, as goat, to graze, pulling the cord,
Not pasturing. Go, loose, and bring her here.

Anaitis.
An easy task. . . .

Coresus.
Not therefore meet for thee.
There is a girl: beside the sycamore,
Once when a mighty storm was gathering,
She came alone for water to the brook.
Her water-pot was rested on a ledge
Of stone, and she, her large arms rounding it,
Was looking up. From the cerulean
The glittering fire outbroke. It played on her;
I caught her face tempestuous with delight.
But momently
I looked on her; the crowd was gathering,
The swarthy bull was waiting for the knife,
And, ere the heavier thunder shook the shrine,
Its neck was severed. O Anaitis, there
Is the true Mænad! The wide difference
'Twixt love and love, and oh! the wider room
'Twixt pieties! from the profaner sort
That wreathes its victim as it roasts its flesh,
With the same hands, same temper; then the stir,
The flutter of fresh life religion brings
To common youthful ardour! but the few,
Who learn it not from custom, suddenly
Behold it, as Narcissus his fair form;
Would peril all for its embrace, discern
In it the image of the unknown self,
And leap to it adoring. Even thus
Will that still girl feel the entrancing awe
Of the great mysteries. And dare I dream
To-night, beneath the silver firs, in sight
Of the full-breathing heavens, she shall clasp
The thyrsus, loose the honey-golden locks,
Give her fair bosom to the breeze, her soul . . . ?
Anaitis, win her!

Anaitis.
Win her for yourself.

Coresus.
Till now the highest favour I could grant
Was to make known my will. Five wandering years
As faithful comrade of my rest and march
Thou hast been with me, not incapable
Of lofty energies, needs, sympathies,
Beyond thy sex. Now I behold thee shrink,
Shrink to mere woman in thy jealousy.
No helpful comrade, a base sycophant,
Whom one must bribe.

Anaitis.
'Tis false. My thyrsus bears
A steely summit and my breast is soft;
Thus will I slay Coresus' sycophant!

Coresus.
Mad fury! stay thine hand!

Anaitis.
And dost thou care,
Care that Anaitis bleed not?

Coresus.
Well, that day
The panther caught thee in his hungry paw,
I slew him; but I do not care to herd
With beasts as fierce as he, perfidious!

Anaitis
[crouching at his feet].
My master, pardon! thou didst rescue me.
Dost keep still the great scar.

Coresus.
Look not so wild!
Thou shalt not seek to move Callirrhoë,
Who wouldst but fright her with thy maniac face,
The sweetly-ordered one! But if to-night
The bright-cheek'd Nephele join not the dance,
Thou shalt endure still harder words of me.

Anaitis.
And if I bring her?

Coresus.
I will consecrate
To Dionysus. That is thy reward.

[Exeunt.