 | Ulysses |  |
23
ACT I
SCENE I
Forecourt of the palace of Ulysses at Ithaca, with stone seats disposed around it. Towards one side, the front of the palace, with portico and pediment richly decorated in the Mycenæan style. Separated from this, a building containing the women's apartments, from a gallery in which a flight of stairs leads down into the court. A boundary wall encloses both buildings: in the interval between them, the mountains of Ithaca are seen above the wall. To the right a low colonnade, over which appear the trees of the orchard— apples, pears, figs, etc., with a great vine trailing into the court. In the court, a scene of wild laughter, uproar, and prodigal confusion: some of the Suitors dancing in24
Antinous.
Come, Clytie, I have no breath
left, sit on my knee and drink from this cup!
No! I'll have fresh wine.
[Pours it on floor.]
A fresh jar.
Ctesippus.
Now may the Lady Penelope
defer her answer so long as she pleases. This
way of life suits me.
[A Handmaid empties cup
of wine over him.]
Fetch up fresh jars from
the cool earth!
Melantho.
[Entering from door in wall to left of house, and holding up key.]
I have
the keys of the great wine vault.
Peiræus.
Ah! you have stolen my keys!
How shall I meet Ulysses!
[Everyone laughs.
Mel.
Come with me, some of you, and bring
up fresh jars.
25
Enter three Handmaids, loaded with flowers and branches of fruit—figs, apples, pears, grapes, pomegranates, followed by Pheidon.
Chloris.
See see! we have stripped the
great orchard. Here! here!
[They fling fruits and flowers over Suitors.
Pheidon.
Princes, princes! Years and
years have I tended these plants and trees,
and in a moment they are torn up, and all the
fruitage of the summer squandered. Ah! if my
master should return!
Ctes.
That need not trouble you.
[All laugh.
A wild scene of flinging fruits and red, white and purple flowers ensues.
Re-enter Melantho and Suitors, rolling fresh jars of wine.
Antin.
Break off the necks, and let the wine
26
this wreath again! Ulysses is dead, or if he
live, we are masters here to-day.
[Jars are broken, wine flows on floor.
All.
Ha! ha! ha!
Enter Eurycleia, the old nurse, followed by two faithful Handmaids bearing workbaskets, etc.
Eurycl.
O, you vile handmaidens! that sit
on princes' knees and drink the wine of your
master who was ever kind to you.
Girls.
La! la! la! la! la!
Eurycl.
Oh! may you never come to a
husband's bed! but wither unwooed to the
grave!
Antin.
The old dame is envious! Here,
Ctesippus, you still lack a damsel. Take her
and comfort her! Kiss her, kiss her, Ctesippus!
Eurycl.
Wiser to let her be!
They drag Ctesippus to Eurycleia and push him towards her.
Ctes.
Her time is past—young lips for a man
of my spirit.
27
Men reach not for withered apples!
Clyt.
Parchment face!
Mel.
You skin hung in the wind to dry!
All.
Ha! ha! ha!
Eurycl.
O! when Ulysses shall return—
All.
Ha! ha! ha!
Eurycl.
For return he shall—
All.
Ha! ha! ha! ha!
Eurycl.
O! then may he not spare you,
women though ye are, but strike you down with
the men—fools! wantons! thieves!
Mel.
[To faithful Handmaids.]
Why
slave under that bitter hag when you can
have the kisses and the gold of princes?
Antin.
What would he do—one man
amongst us all?
Eurycl.
Kill you! kill you! kill you!
Ulysses! Ulysses!
[She is hustled off.
Enter other Suitors dragging in Eumæus, the swineherd.
Suitor.
Here is the man who sends us the
lean swine.
28
Bring him before me!
Eum.
Princes, I am but a serving-man and
have respect unto my lords. Shall I serve up
a dish that would poison the great princes?
Antin.
Poison us?
Ctes.
[Turning pale.]
What does he say?
Eum.
My lords, a fever is fallen upon the
swine! To eat them were death.
Ctes.
Ah! ah!
A Suitor.
What, what, Ctesippus!
Ctes.
Ah! the pain! the pain! I am
poisoned!
[All laugh.
Do I swell? do I swell already?
Suitors.
[With mock solemnity.]
Farewell,
farewell, Ctesippus, thy death is on thee!
Ctes.
Help me within doors! Ah! ah!
[Exit Ctesippus, supported by Handmaidens.]
Antin.
[To Eumæus.]
This is a lie!
Eum.
There are but two left of the whole
herd, and already I like not the countenance of
one of them!
29
It is a lie to keep us from our food
Melanthius.
[Obsequiously.]
Believe him
not, most noble Antinous! But I, it is my
pleasure to bring you what I have; fat
kids; sweet morsels for my noble lords. He
hath hidden the swine away, most mighty
Antinous.
Antin.
Go, drag him out, and drive in the
swine.
Suitors.
Come, come: show us the swine!
Eum.
And so I will.
[Aside.]
But not the fat
ones.
[Exeunt Eumæus and Suitors.
Antin.
[To Servants within.]
A fresh
feast, and swiftly!
Meantime a brief sleep, for the sun bears
heavily on us. Come, Clytie, my head on
your lap.
A Suitor.
And you with me, Melantho.
[The Suitors lie down in various attitudes with the Handmaidens.
Re-enter Ctesippus, who starts in horror.
30
Ah! they are dead already.
Antin.
Cease, old fool, and sleep awhile.
[Ctesippus lies down.
Athene appears, and stands by Telemachus.
Athene.
What man art thou?
Telem.
O goddess bright!
Ath.
Be still;
Where is Ulysses' son?
Telem.
I am he.
Ath.
Thou he!
Where is Ulysses' son? Gone on a journey?
Or dead, that this is suffered in his halls?
Telem.
Nay, goddess; I am he!
[Buries his face in his hands.]
Ath.
Art thou his son?
Art thou the child of the swift and terrible one?
Could he who shattered Troy beget thee too?
What dost thou here, thy head upon thy hands,
While all the floor runs with thy father's wine,
And drunken day reels into lustful night?
31
How scratch, how bite, how wound thee to find blood?
O, should Ulysses come again, how long,
How long should strangers glut themselves at ease?
Why, he would send a cry along the halls
That with the roaring all the walls would rock,
And the roof bleed, anticipating blood,
With a hurrying of many ghosts to hell
When he leapt amid them, when he flashed, when he cried,
When he flew on them, when he struck, when he stamped them dead!
Up! up! here is thy Troy, thy Helen here!
Telem.
Goddess, I am but one and they are many.
Ath.
Thou art innumerable as thy wrongs.
Hist! how they sleep already like the dead!
[Athene disappears.
Telem.
How would my father find me should he come!
32
And pondered on the doing! Now to do!
[He starts up.
[During the ensuing speech of Telemachus, the Suitors gradually awake and rise, some stretching themselves and yawning.
Antinous and Eurymachus, and the rest!
Too long have I borne to see you snatch and spoil,
And eat and swill, and gibe and ravish. Now,
Now from this moment I'll stand master here;
Lord of my own hall, ruler of this hearth.
I'll flit no more a phantom at your feasts,
Discouraged and discarded and disdained.
I am the son of him whom all men feared
And if he live I hold his place in trust;
If he be dead I stand up in his room.
Now on the instant, out! out at the doors!
[Antinous yawns loudly.
Ctes.
Are we awake, or do we all still dream?
33
Take wing, you vultures that too long have perched!
Hence, hence, you rats that gnaw my father's grain.
Eurym.
I rub my eyes: is this Telemachus?
Telem.
I'll have no tarrying! Out, out ere ye wake!
The spirit of my sire descends on me,
And 'tis Ulysses that cries out on you;
You by the throat, Antinous, I take.
[He makes towards Antinous, who still holds Clytie in his arms, while she laughs impudently at Telemachus.
Antin.
Softly, sir, softly! Clytie, do not laugh,
This is your lord!
Ctes.
I like to see such mettle!
Eurym.
Be not too rough with him, Antinous!
Antin.
A moment, sir, before you cast us out—
[He laughs, as do the others till he recovers himself.
34
Doubtless you could!
A Suitor.
We are helpless and o'ermatched!
Eurym.
Sad Ithaca, when such a tyrant rules!
Ctes.
Reach down thy father's bow and shoot us dead!
Telem.
[To himself, while Eurymachus and other Suitors at back are consulting in whispers how to deal with him.]
Fool, fool! I have but made myself a jest:
It was not thus Athene meant. Fool, fool!
Eurym.
[Coming forward to Telemachus from others at back.]
One word! You say that we devour your halls,
That we are vultures, rats. Yet answer this,
Do we bide here, then, of our own inclining?
We come to woo your mother—are your guests,
And we would have an answer ere we go!
All.
An answer, yes!
Antin.
[Starting up.]
An answer from her lips,
35
Have we not seen moon kindle after moon
And still she puts us by! How long, how long!
Telem.
Eurymachus, I have blustered windy threats;
But 'tis a grievous office thus to sit
A master and no master in my halls,
And still I say you do me injury,
Devouring thus the substance of my sire!
Antin.
Then let your mother make her choice of us!
Would she have strength and splendour of the limbs,
Sap of the body and youth's burning blood,
I little doubt on whom her choice will fall.
Eurym.
Nor I—would she have prudence in her lord
And craft.
Ctes.
And I say nothing, but I know
A woman before prudence chooseth gold.
Antin.
[Striking table.]
And till she answer, none, not Zeus himself
Nor all the gods shall turn me out of door.
36
Come, drink, Telemachus; we wish thee well.
'Tis difficult for thee: I'd be thy friend.
Come, lad!
[Putting his arm about Telemachus.]
Telem.
I'll not drink with you. What to do?
Eurym.
Now that this little tempest is o'erblown,
Sing to us, minstrel, and chase wrath away.
Come and sit near to me, Telemachus.
Ctes.
[In lachrymose manner.]
Sing, minstrel, sing us now a tender song
Of meeting and parting, with the moon in it;
I feel that I could love as I loved once.
[Sighs deeply. All laugh.
Minstrel.
O set the sails, for Troy, for Troy is fallen,
And Helen cometh home;
O set the sails, and all the Phrygian winds
Breathe us across the foam!
O set the sails unto the golden West!
It is o'er, the bitter strife.
37
And the husband to the wife!
[During this song Penelope has softly descended, accompanied by two Handmaids, and stands listening unnoticed. She holds her veil before her face.
And she shall fall upon his heart
With never a spoken word—
Pen.
[Dropping veil.]
Cease, minstrel, cease, and sing some other song;
Thy music floated up into my room,
And the sweet words of it have hurt my heart.
Others return, the other husbands, but
Never for me that sail on the sea-line,
Never a sound of oars beneath the moon,
Nor sudden step beside me at midnight:
Never Ulysses! Either he is drowned
Or his bones lie on the mainland in the rain.
[The Suitors gather around her admiringly and importunately.
Antin.
Lady, he sang to chase away our wrath.
38
That we stay here too long, and cries, ‘Out! out!’
But we await your answer, still deferred:
Deferred from day to day, from month to month.
I, I at least no longer will be fooled,
Whose pent and flooding passion foams at bars.
Choose one of us, and they—the rest—will go!
Pen.
Ah! sirs, remember that I but delay
To choose till I have woven at the loom
A shroud for old Laertes.
Melan.
O my mistress!
How canst thou stand and lie to noble men?
O princes, I have spied on her, and she
At night unravels what she wrought by day.
Ye'll wait a long time if for this ye wait.
Pen.
Melantho! I was ever kind to you.
Antin.
We are tricked then!
All.
We are duped!
Eurym.
O she is subtle!
Pen.
Princes, you drive me like a hunted thing
To feint and double thus.
39
A game they play!
The mother fools us and the son reviles us.
She thinks us asses, and he calls us rats.
Am I then like a vulture or a rat?
Telem.
Mother, 'tis true I did upbraid them all;
I am called master here, but am no master;
Lord, but I rule not! smiled at and passed by,
A shadow while these men usurp my halls.
Eurym.
[Going to Telemachus, and laying hand on his shoulder.]
Lady, indeed your son hath much excuse,
And for his sake I'd urge you to make answer,
For his sake and the sake of this dear land,
Which lies now with defenceless coast, a rabble
Leaderless, laws and altars overturned.
Let then your son rise in his father's room.
Ctes.
Let the boy take the reins and drive: but thou
Depart with one of us; and better sure
A live Ctesippus than a dead Ulysses.
Eurym.
[Pointing to Telemachus.]
Thy duty points thee to thy son that lives!
40
Is it so, child, this brooding on a dream
Hath kept thee from thy kingdom? I am wrapt
So in my husband I forget my son.
Telem.
Mother, although my office here is hard,
Yet would I rather lie out by the door,
Cursed, spat on, offal thrown to me for food,
Than any grief of mine should hasten you
To answer with your lips but not your heart,
Or be the cause of your departing hence.
Pen.
And yet I see 'tis so, and that dear ghost
Excludes the living child: forgive me, son.
[To the Suitors.]
Yet, sirs, I cannot on the instant choose:
I lose your faces in the thought of him.
Not on the instant—give me a brief space!
Then will I choose as husband one of you.
Ctes.
Though she looked straight before her didst thou see
How her eye wandered toward me?
Eurym.
She looked not
On me: that argues in a woman love.
41
See, the young moon hath not begun to quicken,
And on the evening hangs awaiting life.
We'll give thee time till yonder moon is full:
Then shalt thou choose from us. Till then! No more.
Pen.
I will do so.
Telem.
Mother, think not that I—
Pen.
My child, I have no blame for you at all.
Eurym.
[To Suitors.]
Thy answer, then, when that faint moon is full!
Antin.
I challenge any here to hurl the quoit: To the market-place.
Eurym.
Haste, then, ere it grow dark.
[Telemachus again comes forward to Penelope.
Pen.
Go with them, child! Nay, thou hast done no wrong.
[Exeunt all but Penelope, who stands stretching out her arms in the darkening twilight.
Where art thou, husband? Dost thou lie even now
42
Or dost thou live, and art with magic held
By some strange woman on a lone sea isle?
Yet we are bound more close than by a charm;
By fireside plans and counsel in the dawn—
Like gardeners have we watched a growing child.
Thy son is tall, thou wilt be glad of him;
All is in order; by the fire thy chair,
Thy bed is smoothed, but now these hands have left it.
Thou knowest the long years I have not quailed,
True to a vision, steadfast to a dream,
Indissolubly married to remembrance;
But now I am so driven I faint at last!
Why must my beauty madden all these wolves?
Why have the gods thus guarded my first bloom?
Why am I fresh, why young, if not for thee?
Come! come, Ulysses! Burn back through the world!
43
And rush upon this bosom with a cry,
Ere 'tis too late, at the last, last instant—come!
[Again the Minstrel's song is heard as the scene changes.
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.
45
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
46
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
47
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.
48
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.
49
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!
50
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!
51
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.
52
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
53
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?
54
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,
55
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!
56
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,
57
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,
58
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.
59
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!
60
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!
61
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.
62
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!
63
[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 | |