 | Ulysses |  |
SCENE II
The shore of Ogygia with the sea-cave of Calypso. A vine full of fruit trails over one side of the cave, and round about it grow whispering poplars and alders, from under which rillets of water run to the sea. Beyond, a verdant shore, with thickets of oleander, etc., and the ship of Ulysses lying beached. Within the cave a fire burning gives out the smell of sawn cedar and sandal-wood. The sun behind is sinking, and the water is golden, while over all broods a magic light. A chorus of44
Enter along the shore Ulysses and Calypso.
Cal.
Art thou content then, utterly content?
Ulys.
I'll drift no more upon the dreary sea.
No yearning have I now, and no desire.
Here would I be, at ease upon this isle
Set in the glassy ocean's azure swoon,
With sward of parsley and of violet,
And poplars shivering in a silvery dream,
And smell of cedar sawn, and sandal-wood,
And these low-crying birds that haunt the deep.
Cal.
Thy home then? Hast no thought of it at all?
Ulys.
It seemeth to me like a far, faint place.
Cal.
Rememberest thou thy wife?
Ulys.
[Dreamily.]
As through a mist:
And dim she seems, and muffled, and away.
Those crimson lips again! O eyes half-closed,
That closing slowly draw my soul from me!
Thou fallest back, thy hair blows in my face,
And all the odour goeth to my brain.
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Come! I would have thee sleep upon this bank
Till the first star shall light us to our couch
Of o'erblown roses and of fallen leaves.
[She leads Ulysses out and he lies upon a bank.
Thy purple cloak, wilt have it so, or so?
Now sleep, my love: thou canst not go from me.
[She returns and passes within the cave.
[Calling the Nymphs about her.
The golden shuttle and the violet wool:
And all ye nymphs sing to me while I spin.
Nymphs.
[Singing.]
From the green heart of the waters
We, old ocean's daughters,
Have floated up with mortal men to play;
Out of the green translucent night
Up to the purple earthly light,
To dance with creatures of a day.
For alas! we have seen the sailor asleep
Where the anchor rusts on the ooze of the deep,
But never, never before
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Herm.
[Appearing unseen by Calypso and her Nymphs, and standing over Ulysses where he lies asleep.]
Ulysses, thralled by passion this long while,
I lift from thee the glamour of this isle.
Olympian wisdom bids thee waken free
Of white Calypso's glimmering witchery.
Behold, I raise from thee the magic woe:
[Touching him with caduceus.
Now lies it in thyself to stay or go.
[Hermes stands aside and watches Ulysses, who, slowly awakening, begins to gaze and stretch out his arms over the sea.
Nymphs.
[Perceiving Ulysses from the mouth of the cave and singing.]
See, see Ulysses, weary and wise;
Sing low, sing low with downcast eyes;
For he rouses at last,
And his eyes are cast
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Over the violet sea.
Alas for the arms that yearn!
Alas for the eyes that burn!
Ulysses—Ulysses—ah!
[They all start up as Hermes steps suddenly amongst them.
Cal.
Hermes, I know thee, though too rarely seen;
What is your will with me? Art thou from Zeus?
Some word of Zeus thou bringest; let me hear.
Herm.
Lady, who sitteth there upon the shore?
Cal.
It is Ulysses. Ah, 'tis not of him?
Herm.
There sits the man of whom I came to speak.
Cal.
Say then!
Herm.
Thus Zeus commands: that you set free
Ulysses.
Cal.
Ah!
Herm.
And waft him on the deep,
If in his heart he hungers for his home.
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He is most happy and forgets his home.
Herm.
Yet if he shall desire at last his hearth—
Cal.
He will not—no!—
Herm.
Then shalt thou waft his sails.
Cal.
He shall not go!
Herm.
But Zeus commands.
Cal.
I say
He will not care to go, doth not desire;
To leave me hath not entered in his heart.
Yet will I set him free if he so choose;
But I am sure of him.
Herm.
And he shall have
More peril being gone, down into hell
Must pass, and view the hollow night of things.
Cal.
This will I tell him.
Herm.
No! for Zeus forbids.
Farewell, Calypso—linger I may not.
[Exit Hermes.
Cal.
I cannot doubt thee, and the spell was strong.
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Cal.
Art thou Ulysses that so slowly comest?
Who hath bewitched thee that thou gazest past me?
And thou wert wont to rush into my arms!
[She leads him within the cave—Ulysses still seeming numbed and changed.
Ulysses, there hath been a god with me,
A messenger from Zeus. Come from the shadow,
That I may see your face. Thus Zeus commands:
‘If sad Ulysses yearns to see his home—’
[He starts and gazes again seaward.
Ah! you would go then! back the bright blood comes,
And to your eyes the sea-light!
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Goddess—I—
Cal.
‘If sad Ulysses burns to see his home,’
Then Zeus commands me that I let you go.
Ah! set your teeth upon your lips: but still
I hear wild music at your heart.
Ulys.
[Beginning to recover and realise.]
O whence
Comes this release—or—this command of Zeus?
Cal.
O spoil it not! then thus comes this release.
The gods have pity on you, seeing you
Unwillingly beguiled by cold Calypso.
And more; I am to swell your aching sails,
And breathe you with a breeze over the deep:
Only if you desire—'tis in your will.
Well! well! Why do you gaze so in my eyes?
Ulys.
I have learned to dread what cometh suddenly,
And sniff about a sweet thing like a hound:
And most I dread the sudden gifts of gods.
Cal.
Gifts!
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I would say commands—this is some lure.
Swear suddenly 'tis not!
[Harshly and quickly.
Cal.
Is this thy voice?
Put me upon my oath, and I'll swear false.
I tell you out of a sad heart the truth.
Ulys.
[Still hesitating.]
Who bore this message down?
Cal.
Hermes.
Ulys.
A most
Garrulous god!
Cal.
He came from Zeus himself.
Ulys.
And Zeus himself I trust not over-far.
Hurler of bolts! I speak it reverently.
[Seizing her arm.
I will not loose you, till you swear by Styx,
River of hell, the dreaded oath of gods.
Cal.
I swear to you by Styx, river of hell!
Ulys.
[Breaking away.]
O then the ship, the ship!
Cal.
[Detaining him.]
A moment yet!
Kiss me, dear guest! My love for you is deep,
But ah! not deep enough to wish you home.
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The gods command: we mortals but obey.
Cal.
Why will you leave me? I must let you go,
But not without a reason: must I? Speak!
I do but ask the why of what must be.
[He kisses her absently.
Is this Ulysses' kiss?
Ulys.
Goddess, this news
Makes me forgetful.
Cal.
Worse and worse!
Ulys.
Again.
[Kisses her.
Cal.
This out of gratitude? And when you gaze
Into my eyes you see a world beyond.
[He again moves to go.
Yet stay! I do not ask for the old look,
Or to lie nearer in the deep of night:
That's ended like a song. But I will know
Why you so burn to sail; why suddenly
I touch these arms of stone, this hand of flint,
Why suddenly your eyes peer seaward, why
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Is it your wife whom you at last remember?
Penelope?—doth she not drag her feet
A little as she walks?—slow—but how chaste!
If I could see her, I would understand.
Ulys.
I'd not compare Penelope with thee.
Cal.
I have shown you amorous craft, tricks of delay,
Tears that can fire men's blood; you must forget
These, and return to simple husbanding.
Hath she the way of it? all the sweet wiles?
The love that shall not weary, must be art.
Ulys.
She hath no skill in loving—but to love.
Cal.
And are her eyes dark; dark, yet with lightning?
Never a blue eye held a man like thee.
Ulys.
I have forgot the colour of her eyes.
Cal.
Patient and fair and comfortable? yes?
Stands she as I do? Is her head so poised?
Ulys.
How should a mortal like a goddess stand?
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And can she set a rose in bosom or hair?
Ulys.
She hath a wisdom amid garden flowers.
Cal.
Doth she sing sweet?
Ulys.
The songs of my own land.
Cal.
[Suddenly.]
She hath forgotten thee, so long away.
Ulys.
I would remind her with what speed I can.
Cal.
Remember, she is mortal: she must die.
Ulys.
Therefore I flee the faster to her side.
Cal.
O what an end! You two will sit in the sun,
And challenge one another with grey hairs.
Ulys.
And so to spare your eyes I would be gone
Ere this my head to such a greyness grow.
Cal.
How shall my heart contend against your brain?
Now by that time I thought eternity,
By long sea-evenings when all words would cease,
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Sad tales which will be happy to remember,
Tell me the reason of this haste to go.
'Tis she, I know; I want no words to tell me.
But is it she? And now I do recall
Even in your wildest kiss a kiss withheld,
Even in abandonment a something kept;
When veil on veil fell from you, still a veil.
When you so poured your soul out that a woman,
Even a woman, had in her heart said ‘now!’
I felt in all that sweet a something stern.
Ulys.
Why harp upon my wife? You being woman
Too much exalt the woman: a thousand calls
Are ringing in my ears: my mother pined—
Cal.
When did a lover heed a mother's woe?
Ulys.
My father desolate or dead: my son—
Cal.
No father nor no son could launch that ship.
Ulys.
My comrades then!
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Whatever my inclining,
They still have homes which I must think upon
Who took them far.
Cal.
Friend hath killed friend for love.
Ulys.
My empty throne and my neglected land:
Duty—
Cal.
O! hath it come to duty now?
Duty, that grey ash of a burnt-out fire,
That lie between a woman and a man!
We fence and fence about: tell me the truth.
Why are you mad for home? I'll have the truth,
Once and once only, but the living truth.
Ulys.
[In a wild burst.]
Then have the truth; I speak as a man speaks;
Pour out my heart like treasure at your feet.
This odorous amorous isle of violets,
That leans all leaves into the glassy deep,
With brooding music over noontide moss,
And low dirge of the lily-swinging bee,—
Then stars like opening eyes on closing flowers,—
Palls on my heart. Ah, God! that I might see
Gaunt Ithaca stand up out of the surge,
You lashed and streaming rocks, and sobbing crags,
The screaming gull and the wild-flying cloud:—
To see far off the smoke of my own hearth,
To smell far out the glebe of my own farms,
To spring alive upon her precipices,
And hurl the singing spear into the air;
To scoop the mountain torrent in my hand,
And plunge into the midnight of her pines;
To look into the eyes of her who bore me,
And clasp his knees who 'gat me in his joy,
Prove if my son be like my dream of him.
Pour out my heart like treasure at your feet.
This odorous amorous isle of violets,
That leans all leaves into the glassy deep,
With brooding music over noontide moss,
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Then stars like opening eyes on closing flowers,—
Palls on my heart. Ah, God! that I might see
Gaunt Ithaca stand up out of the surge,
You lashed and streaming rocks, and sobbing crags,
The screaming gull and the wild-flying cloud:—
To see far off the smoke of my own hearth,
To smell far out the glebe of my own farms,
To spring alive upon her precipices,
And hurl the singing spear into the air;
To scoop the mountain torrent in my hand,
And plunge into the midnight of her pines;
To look into the eyes of her who bore me,
And clasp his knees who 'gat me in his joy,
Prove if my son be like my dream of him.
We two have played and tossed each other words;
Goddess and mortal we have met and kissed.
Now am I mad for silence and for tears,
For the earthly voice that breaks at earthly ills,
The mortal hands that make and smooth the bed.
I am an-hungered for that human breast,
That bosom a sweet hive of memories—
There, there to lay my head before I die,
There, there to be, there only, there at last!
[Calypso weeps. Ulysses comes and touches her softly.
Remember, Goddess, the great while it is,
How far, far back, alas how long ago!
Goddess and mortal we have met and kissed.
Now am I mad for silence and for tears,
For the earthly voice that breaks at earthly ills,
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I am an-hungered for that human breast,
That bosom a sweet hive of memories—
There, there to lay my head before I die,
There, there to be, there only, there at last!
[Calypso weeps. Ulysses comes and touches her softly.
Remember, Goddess, the great while it is,
How far, far back, alas how long ago!
Cal.
[Clinging about him.]
Now wilt thou leave me, now, close on the hour
Of silent planets luring us thro' dew,
And steady pouring slumber from the waves,
Wave after wave upon the puzzling brain?
Ulys.
My wife, my wife!
Cal.
And, mortal, I will breathe
Delicious immortality on thee.
Stay with me, and thou shalt not taste of death.
Ulys.
I would not take life but on terms of death,
That sting in the wine of being, salt of its feast.
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Save in the white leap and the dance of doom?
O death, thou hast a beckon to the brave,
Thou last sea of the navigator, last
Plunge of the diver, and last hunter's leap.
Cal.
Yet, yet, Ulysses, know that thou art going
Into a peril not of sky nor sea,
But to a danger strange and unimagined.
Ulys.
I'd go down into hell, if hell led home!
Cal.
[Resignedly.]
Call up your comrades! Bid them hoist the sails!
Ulys.
Comrades! [He lifts his arms and cries to his followers, who come running to him, leaving the Nymphs on the shore.]
Great hearts, that with me have so long
Breasted the wave and broken through the snare,
Have we not eaten and drunk on magic shores?
Your hands here!
[They crowd round him eagerly, some clasping, others kissing his hands.
Comrades.
O great captain!
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Have we not
Heard all the Sirens singing and run free?
Com.
Lead! lead!
Ulys.
Close, close to me! have we not burst
Up from the white whirl of Charybdis' pool?
Com.
Storm-weatherer! mighty sailor!
[They clasp his knees.
Ulys.
What say you?
Shall we put forth again upon the deep?
Com.
We will go with thee even into hell!
[They raise a great shout.
Ulys.
Then Zeus decrees that we again set forth
And break at last the magic of this isle.
Com.
Yet whither—whither?
Ulys.
Would ye see at last
Gaunt Ithaca?
Com.
Ah, God!
Ulys.
Would ye behold
The bright fires blaze and crackle on your hearths?
Com.
Torment us not!
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Would you again catch up
Your babes?
Com.
Have pity!
Ulys.
And clasp again your wives?
Com.
Cease! cease!
Ulys.
Then homeward will we sail to-night.
Com.
[With amazed cries.]
Home? Home?
[A wail of Nymphs is heard on sands.
Ulys.
Now lay the rollers under her,
And you make taut the ropes, you, hoist the sail,
And run her down with glee into the deep!
Com.
[Rushing off in various directions.]
The ship! the ship! Ithaca! Praise the gods!
Cal.
[Coming out with cup.]
The cup, Ulysses! Drink to me farewell!
Ulys.
[Taking cup.]
First unto Zeus that would not have us die,
But suffered us to see our homes again.
Farewell, Calypso, the red sun half way
Is sunk and makes a firelight o'er the deep.
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Remember me a little when thou comest
To thine own country. Say farewell to me,
Not to the thought of me!
Ulys.
I will not. See!
The ship moves! Hark, their shouts! She moves! she moves.
Hear you the glorying shingle cry beneath her?
She spreads her wings to fly upon the deep!
[The cries of Ulysses' crew are heard as the ship is shoved down and they climb in. Ulysses springs in and stands in the stern.
Men.
We float! we float!
Ulys.
Now each man to the oar
And, leaning all together, smite the sea!
For it is fated we shall see our homes!
[The ship puts off, and the wind raised by Calypso fills the sails.
Cal.
I breathe a breeze to waft thee over sea!
Ah, could I waft thee back again to me!
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[The curtain descends, but rising again discovers the ship, now a black speck on red sunset, and Calypso standing alone looking after it across the sea.
[Wailing of Sea-Nymphs.
CURTAIN
| Ulysses | |