 | The Serpent Play |  |
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ACT III.
Scene I.
The Soul of Kausis.Spring breaks; it is the Serpent's time for treading
His heaven of dank and narrow alleys,
Where he his needle's eye is threading
To sow his hate among the distant valleys.
There eager warriors, whose soil
The troops of Voragine had made their spoil
In war's disastrous play of sword and fire,
Pause in the passion of debate,
And but the Serpent's oracle await,
That rich in easy, subtle thought
Must now the thirst of vengeance sate
In foes who drink at conscience, staking nought.
'Twill tell them how the strong to shake
And in their triumphs overtake
By wiles the Serpent only can invent,
Of lofty seeming but of base intent.
So shall the conquered their new Spring begin:
While the corn grows gathering the fruits of sin.
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HAYUS.
O Kausis, why hast thou forsaken me?
KAUSIS.
Thou hast proclaimed the Cross.
HAYUS.
Not wilfully,
But with that sign of peace to be avenged—
KAUSIS.
Vengeance is mine.
HAYUS.
To be avenged in thee.
KAUSIS.
What boon demand ye at this sacrifice?
HAYUS.
To be as gods and slay our enemies.
KAUSIS.
Only through Death, robed in the flowing blood
Of thy own son.
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The bleating lamb is here;
Yet, be it as thou wilt.
KAUSIS.
Thy son shall die.
HAYUS.
Thy will encompasses
Our weak affections: touch us, that our blood,
Chilled at death's edge, be in its altered course
Numb to remorse. This hand shall loose the stream
Of that dear life.
KAUSIS.
Bear him unto the Tree,
And spear his side; in his last agony
Prophetic, shall he soothsay in thine ear
The one, the certain way.
HAYUS.
Friends, lead him thither,
But blind him, lest he see his father's face.
KAUSIS.
So shall the avenging father through his son
Behold his wish accomplished.
HAYUS.
Be it done.
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In him the blood of innocence is spilt
To heighten vengeance on another's guilt,
And while his darkness spreads o'er all the land
His inward sight shall more and more expand
To the near future, and its secret know,
And he shall whisper with his dying breath
Such knowledge as can only be in death.
Three days thy son shall sojourn in the grave,
Then shall he rise and his loved people save:
He goes before thee; on his path attend
And with thee shall he tarry to the end.
So, scripture-tongued the Serpent's voice prevailed,
And only one the sacrifice bewailed.
HAYUS.
The oracle is closed, but heard the prayer:
Give the dear victim to a father's care;
Only to me will he his soul declare.
PEOPLE.
Hail, King of the Ophidians!
Hayus wept.
His heart in that last pang of anguish dead,
The father of the martyr bowed his head,
And the last tear he ever shed
From his deep-purposed brow with trembling fingers swept.
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Scene II.
—The Hall of Voragine.Volupsa, Cœlis.
Henceforth is Cœlis calm; his panic o'er,
With gentle words would he restore
The wreath of smiles Volupsa wore,
When, in its soul-beams lit, her happy face
Was charged with every sudden grace.
What, thought he, can that wreath replace!
But she had newer smiles that broke
Around her lips even ere she spoke.
CŒLIS.
Volupsa! scarce I know your face again!
Joyous or sad, 'tis always more than fair;
But smiles it hath to-day that entertain
Some favoured guest and all love's welcome bear.
What do I see? the lights within your eyes
Have flashed not so this many a day;
Lustres of brilliance they display;—
Your very soul-depths seem to crystallise.
VOLUPSA.
Joy, Cœlis, is of many hues:
You have not heard the cheering news.
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Is closed, our foes are friendly near and far.
CŒLIS.
Tidings of joy, if strife be at an end!
VOLUPSA.
And now my brother pants to greet his dearest friend.
CŒLIS.
When did he come?
VOLUPSA.
It was as morning broke:
Hundreds of villages awoke
In time to hail his gorgeous cavalcade,
And wreaths of common hedge-flowers many made;
Myrtle boughs and laurels waving,
And on the road the cry of victory raving.
Escorted by his guard up to the gate
His honoured name three times the soldier shouted.
He only said it was their bravery won
The glory and the rebels routed:
He gave the triumph to their arms alone.
CŒLIS.
Where is the army now that he commanded?
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It is dispersed: the troops are all disbanded,
No longer needed in the field,
So surely is the quarrel healed.
CŒLIS.
Now be it mine a cheering word to say:
My sister Vivia comes to-day;—
VOLUPSA.
Another joy!
CŒLIS.
She is already on her way.
VOLUPSA.
The happy time for all sets in;
And now I hear my brother, Voragine;
That is his step along the corridor:
You know his light and rapid tread!
It is upon the welcome floor,
The home where he was born and bred.
Farewell, awhile!
CŒLIS,
alone.
The passion of a child:
Oh! what true music has a sister's love!
About my heart by her 'twas early wove,
Since of its intertwining blisses spoiled!
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Scene III.
—The Hall of Voragine.Voragine, Cœlis.
CŒLIS.
My kinsman, Voragine! A cheerful sight,
You look so firm within your mail,
Few such a living stronghold would assail.
VORAGINE.
It is but health braced by sword-exercise,
The tonic of the soul! In honest fight
The secret of a man's endurance lies.
CŒLIS.
The schooling of the body to the mind.
Ill-trained for such high cult is he
Who what he is not seeks to be:
Oft in the dusk of thought we find
No path to final victory.
VORAGINE.
What need we more than fame and wealth
In life's short play, and both are yours.
Though, says report, you take by stealth
What open war to me secures.
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How, then, by stealth; though said in jest,
It is most covertly expressed.
VORAGINE.
'Tis told no planet passes on parade
But that you rob it of an omen.
So is heaven-brigandage your trade,
As mine to take the lives of foemen.
As you coax nature to reveal
The mighty purpose of her next decreeing,
More fairly from a damsel's heart I steal
The inmost secret of her being.
CŒLIS.
Say it is so: you ever must pourtray
Your humour in a soldier's way.
VORAGINE.
Your fairy sister, Vivia, where is she?
Still in the convent at her training?
Ah! would she waft her love to me,
And spare me all this heart-complaining!
Now, Cœlis, draw the shadowy moon
Into some shallow pool, and trace
The magic circles: bid her solve
How many months she must revolve
Ere Vivia shall assume her bridal place!
But say we must be wedded soon.
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She yet is young: but you have long been plighted;
Bid her then solve the riddle that has riven
So many far asunder when united:
So many into madness driven.
VORAGINE.
It may be so when love is little wise,
And takes the gulph ere it can scale the steep:
Before us shall no obstacle arise,
But that the dancing of our eyes
May in a moment over-leap.
What charm is there like soldier's prattle;—
The gallant rush, the flash of battle;—
No maiden heart can this withstand!
To tales of danger while she listens,
The jewel at her eyelash glistens:
The merry moment is at hand!
Ah! laugh we must not, save at greeting—
To show our joy at such a meeting!
Who has seen battles won and lost
Is slow of victory to boast,
And for the conquest of a maid,
The more he loves the more is he afraid.
CŒLIS.
Love is the hardest of all creeds,
All are its martyrs, wheresoe'er it leads.
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Vivia is love; no better creed I choose:
But till she comes we must the hours amuse.
Shall we then fence to while away the time?
My thoughts lie near, yours ever are sublime.
I must invent some game to waste the days,
Or they will never flit: I cannot watch,
With you, mild nature's slow, ecstatic ways,
And at set times her inspirations snatch.
Let us begone and with wild pleasure
Race, while the world goes round in stately leisure.
CŒLIS.
Life will go on,—the eagle's speed
It doth not for its squandering need;
But Vivia comes to-day, along the road
Her barb now bears its lightsome load.
VORAGINE.
Such news would cheer an army! Let us spend
The morrow with you; love alone
Can for the misery of those wars atone:
Be it the assurance of their happy end.
CŒLIS.
And from my brother Pandolph is a letter:
A longer one had pleased me better.
‘Cœlis,’ he says, ‘take choice among the fair,
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Wedded at last I long to show
My charming princess at the old chateau.
So think of us as on our homeward way;
Perhaps not many hours shall we delay.
Time after time has this been my intent,
But our old oracle not yet is spent;
For, I had a presentiment.’
VORAGINE.
The best of news.
CŒLIS.
Presentiments we heed,
Though little argument have they to plead.
Perchance my brother feels afar
The signs that move us not when they are near,
And so may he his safety find in fear:
But this must not our pleasure mar,
When all the rest, perhaps Vivia, now are here.
VORAGINE.
Ere the day passes Vivia must I see;
And on the morrow,—
CŒLIS.
Then the feast shall be.
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Scene IV.
Voragine, Volupsa.VOLUPSA.
How long the time has dragged; and yet a year
Is gone!
VORAGINE.
Another comes.
VOLUPSA.
You now will stay,
For slowly fills the gap wherein your absence lay.
VORAGINE.
You are not happy, child.
VOLUPSA.
My loneliness
Still weighs upon me, as on you the stress
And hurry of the war.
VORAGINE.
How well divined:
I spend my nights in battle, though my sword
Hangs idly by my bed. That busy sleep!
While I am couched and feel my head indent
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Of my foregoing self into the fight,
And move with it, recumbent though I be,
Into the thick of battle.
VOLUPSA.
So with me:
Upon my spirit hangs the lonely year!
VORAGINE.
Has it been, then, so sad?
VOLUPSA.
Both sad and smiling:
Hope seasoned by its fruits that ripen not.
But you are here.
VORAGINE.
Even mine is not the love
That Cœlis bears you?
VOLUPSA.
Yes; a brother's love;
Deeper than all: not more.
VORAGINE.
You have my heart.
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You have but half of mine;
The rest is torn to shreds.
VORAGINE.
Is he then cold?
VOLUPSA.
Never; the ways of men are not his ways:
He deems that we should do the same on earth
As if we were in heaven.
VORAGINE.
How could it be?
VOLUPSA.
With him it is so, save that being here,
A mortal, a lone wanderer, he seeks
For the unseen like one who searched the world
For some lost friend.
VORAGINE.
And he encounters nought.
VOLUPSA.
Would it were so; alas! by day and night
The shadowy Serpent lies upon his path;
Its threats almost unseat his faculties,
Till comes the calm, when teems the unwhispering air
With revelations of immortal song.
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Can it be thus? 'Twere supernatural!
VOLUPSA.
So is it to his sense.
VORAGINE.
The mood will change.
When I take Vivia's hand yours must he claim,
Love spreads with such infection; they who fly
Are the first overtaken by its plague.
A single wedding is the fruitful core
Of countless marriage feasts.
VOLUPSA.
'Twill need no veil
To hide my blushes that can never bloom
Before an altar. All my thoughts to his
Prove adverse; my poor love cannot fulfil
The wealth of his affection, though its flame
Will not go out, but, like a servile lamp,
Burn by his side in solitude.
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Scene V.
—The Castle of Cœlis.Cœlis, alone.
CŒLIS.
O dream that comes to pass when infant truth
Quickens within the vision! So is born
Divinity to this love-founded world!
It have I sought through crystal depths that lie
In woman's heart, but not before have found
Her mirror open, till this very hour
All is revealed, through her, my holy bride!
The darkness left me when my welcomed eyes
Entered Volupsa's with that sister's joy
Beaming upon them! How a sister's love
Thus at a brother's kindled, sets at nought
All passion! On a long-lost heaven beyond,
Through the wide-open window of her soul
My eyes have gazed, and taught me to forego
The one too fond desire that dissipates
The ecstasy of being. O beloved!
How should I touch thy lips, how bruise the bloom
That lies upon them, tender as a dew
On the dimmed ruby! Like the violet
Kissing the stream, so shall thy lips, that blood
Of grapes has never stained, be left to sip
Heaven's nectar; while henceforward I invoke
Thy sister-love, pure, and unchangeable,
From infant days to age. Belovèd one,
Ideal sister! be our bridal vows
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What I now feel draws our hereafter near.
Cœlis, Voragine, Vivia, Volupsa.
(Volupsa and Vivia.)
VOLUPSA.
My own red Rose!
VIVIA.
My Lily of the Vale!
VOLUPSA.
Your cheeks, how blooming!
VIVIA.
Yours, why are they pale?
(Cœlis, Volupsa.)
CŒLIS.
See you yon shadow from the mountain steeps
That swiftly o'er the primrose-valley sweeps?
VOLUPSA.
It seemed to rush away between
The hanging rocks, and to be no more seen.
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So is it with us here; could we remain,
Or find, at once, the ever-shining plain,
Life would be real; that which has its close
Begins not: all is but a mocking flight,
Before and after swallowed up in night
Whence like a flitting shadow it arose.
(Voragine, Vivia.)
VORAGINE.
Yes, long the land 'neath war's hard grasp has chafed,
But, like your smiles, is peace to me vouchsafed;—
And now my thoughts on better days are set:
A soldier's utmost need is to forget.
(Cœlis, Volupsa.)
CŒLIS.
So vanishes all love if, soul to soul,
It be not graved on the eternal roll.
There be our plight and heaven emblazon it!
VOLUPSA.
There has my love this many a day been writ.
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VORAGINE.
Yet is life long; though spent with you 'twould run
Swift to the end, as though 'twere just begun.
VIVIA.
That were too fast, if 'twere for me to choose.
VORAGINE.
Then let us not the passing moment lose!
(Cœlis, Volupsa.)
CŒLIS.
Can you then love me for the after-time,
That singly, yet as one, our souls may climb
To times immortal; only there to blend
In that existence which shall never end?
It will surpass this world!
VOLUPSA.
I do so now;
To me this life has long been only vain,
Yet does my lasting love for you remain.
CŒLIS.
Those holy words indite our final vow!
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VORAGINE.
Yes, you are young: the younger be my heart,
That it may cling to yours till death us part.
VIVIA.
Let me die first; it is but once we die.
VORAGINE.
No, you must keep alive my memory!
(Cœlis, Volupsa.)
CŒLIS.
Will you, Volupsa, at your parting breath
Think of our vow, that when we conquer death
We shall arise as one?
VOLUPSA.
Then, what has brought
A love so deep across your dubious thought?
Am not I constant, when one only prayer
Leaves my sad heart for Heaven; that you may
Love me there?
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