University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

A Street open to the sea, the rock seen.
Antonio.
Shall I thus solitary ever live,
And in these haunts, scenes of my pride and triumph,
Alone like one of those dejected ghosts,
Whom poets in their mournful frenzies deem
The hov'ring witnesses of joyous rites,
Held by the friends they thought would weep their death,
Move unregarded, or be seen with fear?—
It were a state less hideous to be doom'd
To constant penance in some dread cadav'ry,
Where the dim death-light shows the mould'ring dead,
Grinning as 'twere in horrible derision,
As the contemptuous spirit of decay
Throws from its scite the long unfasten'd scull.—
To sit alone in some forgotten ruin,
Far in some distant long untravell'd waste,
Where, save the thirsty serpent's ceaseless hiss,
No sound is ever heard:—To see from thence
The red and arid sun's unvaried orb,
Roll o'er the brazen skies and sink to night,
Day after day, in dull monotony,
And all the story of remembrance lost,
But one black thought, the memory of my crime,
Would not, methinks, be such a solitude,
As that which now environs me around,
In the denying looks of former friends.—
Here comes my enemy—O thought unjust;
He was no foe, had I myself been true.

[Enter Orooko.]
Orooko.
There stands the wretch so woeful and forlorn,
That my relenting nature melts to see him.

Antonio.
I would speak to him, and enquire the doom
Pronounced upon the queen. He will not answer,
And yet there's more compassion in his eyes
Than e'er I witness'd, more than they express'd
When hapless Yamos sav'd me from the sea.

[The sound of a shell or horn is heard.]
Orooko.
Hark! the sad sounding of the funeral shell,
Gives dismal warning that the hour approaches.

Antonio.
Tell me, Orooko, what these sounds denote?

Orooko.
The prelude of a solemn sacrifice.—
Thou start'st!—

Antonio.
A sacrifice!

Orooko.
Yes, to our Gods!
The Gods of nature and of innocence!

Antonio.
Ah, stern old man, dost thou impute to mine,
The instigations that have made me guilty;
Or think'st thou that my better part denies
The justice of the punishment I suffer.—
Now, that no more my faith may taint thy tribes,
Nor thin the worshippers around thy altars,
Wilt thou, for once, allow me to repeat
The grounds of my religion.

Orooko.
Fatal man!
Dost thou presume with me to try thine arts?—
Spirit of everlasting life and light,
Avert their influence, and keep me firm,
Against this new contrition that begins
To mine into my heart! (to Antonio)
What would'st thou say,
Would'st thou rehearse to me that tale of fancy,
Which thou hast told of worlds beyond the stars,
Where vital brightness in the beams of wisdom,
Still kindles with intelligence eterne;
And bid me break the bread and drink the wine,
As my acceptance of admission there?
Or would'st thou frighten me, if I refuse,
By the grim terrors of that other region,
That dread abyss beneath the midway ocean,—
Beneath the deep foundations of the isles,—
That hollow vast of everlasting fires—
Sapping the arch on which great Nature stands,
Predoom'd to fall with hideous crash, and hurl
Into the billowy and exasperate flames,
There sink for ever and for ever down,—
Would'st thou tell this, and ask me to believe?

Ant.
No, Sir, and yet by your impassion'd voice,
You seem to tremble, lest it may be true.—
But I would tell you how th'eternal mind
Abhors the guilt of its corporeal agent,
And ask you whence such strange division springs,
If that which thinks, and that which acts in man,
May not exist apart?

Orooko.
And if they may?

Ant.
Shall then the thoughtful element be left
In unappropriated listlessness,
When into dust its mortal dwelling falls?
Or should we deem all the recoil of action
Fix'd to the limit of our biding here;
And lift the aims of human thought no higher
Than the mean instincts of our sensual wishes?—
If man be as you say but animal,
Why am I punish'd, where was Idda's crime?
[Sounds of the shell.
These dismal sounds of sacrifice again!
And this way rolls the throng!

Orooko.
O stay not here,
Stay not to witness what must here be done.
Alas, Antonio, thy mysterious thoughts
Perplex my spirit in an awful hour.

[Exeunt.
[Enter Sebi and Mora.]
Mora.
Where shall I fly that I may but forget
The hideous look of horror and despair,
With which she glared on me her last farewell.
O father, father, hold my bursting head,
Her glance was lightning, and has fired my brain.

Sebi.
Unhappy child!

Mora.
Do you not hear her cries?
Hark!

Sebi.
All is silent.

[the shells sound.
Mora.
Ha! the shells again,
She struggles still, they drag her to the shore.
O bear me hence, support me, father, hence—
I dare not that way look, and yet my eyes,
Charm'd by her horror, will not be withdrawn.

Sebi.
Why will you linger, asking still to fly,
Come, dearest Mora, come?

Mora.
They hold her fast,
The dumb torchbearer steps into the boat;
They bind the victim—wretches, hold! hold! hold!

[Exeunt towards the side by which they entered.

SCENE II.

An Apartment.
Yamos and Arak, and Attendants.
Yamos.
Heard ye that shriek? It came upon my ear
As the quick lightning flashes on the eye,
Startling the soul—How awful is this silence
Which has succeeded to that glance of sound!
Methinks it has affinity with death,
And should be named with epithets of blackness.
Where is Orooko?

Arak.
At the sacrifice.

Yamos.
What sacrifice! Why dost thou turn away—
It was the victim's cry then that I heard?—
O 'twas my Idda, loveliest, still belov'd!—
But I forget that justice claim'd her doom,
And Guilt with clammy and opprobrious clutch,
More hideous than the mouldering grasp of death,
Tore our incorporated hearts asunder.
[the shells sound.
Hark! again, O Idda! down my heart, lie down.
Summon the choristers, bid them sing shrill,—
Wake all your instruments of wildest sound,
And drown th'afflicting discord of her cries.—
[Music]
No more, no more—Tell me, is it yet done?
Has the bright star, that should to night arise
At the returning of the tide, appear'd?

Arak.
It just begins to glimmer o'er the sea.

Yamos.
O ere the tide shall reach its wonted bourn,
The beauteous orb, that crown'd my life's fair dawn,
Must set for ever in the gloomy wave.—
Has not Orooko come?

Arak.
We have not sent.

Yamos.
Why am I not obey'd, wherefore is this,
That you deny the duty of your place?
Go bring him instantly—yet stop—not yet.—
She may not yet have reach'd the fatal rock.
How long time thinkest thou?—

Arak.
What would you, sir?

Yamos.
No matter, Arak—we'll towards the shore,—
Command Antonio to attend me there.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The Rock and fire—The coast and town seen in perspective, the boats pass.
Idda.
O they are gone, and will return no more,
And I am left to perish here alone!
Stay yet awhile—stay but to see me die!
Suspend your oars till the returning wave
Has quench'd my life and this dull flame together.
Alas! alas! they heed not my entreaty!
But swift and steadily make to the shore!—
The shore is throng'd, piled with a countless crowd;
Hear me, O hear me!—O my feeble voice
Fails in the midway of the dismal distance,
And I am here an off'ring on death's altar,
Like some lost wretch by eager heirs interr'd,
Awak'ning from his trance within the grave—
O horror, horror, is there then no hope!

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

A Street.
Orooko, Sebi, and Antonio.
Orooko.
What would the crowd with all these pitched brands?

Sebi.
They think that when the waves o'erwhelm the queen,
Yamos will then restore our ancient rites,
And bid the town be fir'd.

Orooko.
Who told them that?

Sebi.
Tis but their fancy.

Orooko.
And yet they prepare,
As if th'ordonnance of it were proclaim'd!
Such strong assurance in the public mind,
Denotes some feeling in the frame of things,
That proves the pregnant future almost ripe
With some great offspring in the line of fate.
'Tis as the sadness that pervades the air,
Before the coming thunder. In the town
Far-stretching necks from the close-crowded windows,
And all eyes turned the same way in the streets,
Do not more certainly presage th'approach
Of solemn pageants, than parentless rumors,
Foretell th'occurrence of some high event.

Sebi.
You seem alarm'd—I thought you would rejoice.

Orooko.
Hast thou heard this, Antonio?

Sebi.
He's entranc'd,
And hears not what is said.

Orooko.
Antonio?

Ant.
Well!

Orooko.
See'st thou the throng so busily intent—
Look how the young men cleave the splint'ring pine,
While in the seething pitch their fathers dip,
The riven fragments which the children gather,
And serious women in their aprons bring.
What think'st thou of this solemn preparation?

Ant.
O righteous Heaven! now is my doom complete,
Must that blest germ which I had planted here,
For my aggression be so soon destroy'd.

Orooko.
Who told thee that?

Ant.
You to the truths I taught,
Ascribe the guilty working of my blood,
And to suppress the truth will burn the town.

Orooko.
Antonio!

Ant.
Speak, what mean you!

Orooko.
I believe,
If that which thinks in us survives the tomb,
That thou wast right in teaching us to rise
Still more and more out of the sensual life,
Into th'intelligence which after death
May raise our being to a higher state.

(Ant. kneels.)
Sebi.
What sudden blessing dissipates his gloom,
And makes him thus in thankful transports kneel.

[Enter Arak.]
Arak.
Unhappy Yamos, wand'ring in his mind,
And with the crowd wild-mingling on the shore,
Commands you to attend.

Orooko.
Antonio rise.
Alas, I would thou might'st remain behind.
For at the sight of thee his rage again
May burst in outrage fatal to the wish,
Which my expanding heart begins to cherish.

Ant.
Come let us go. Whatever may befall
Cannot be evil, if on you descends
Th'inspiring mantle of immortal truth.
Yes! o'er the funeral ashes of the town,
A pure celestial light shall ever shine,
To which the scatter'd tribes will oft return,
In holy pilgrimage, if you will guide
Their wand'ring spirits in the devious way
Of knowledge, which, alas, so slipp'ry winds
Through tangling brakes, where many a serpent lurks.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

The Shore. The rock seen at a distance, nearly covered, the star high in the Heavens, and the water rising.—The crowd of the town on all sides.— Yamos with his back towards the rock.
Enter Orooko, Antonio, Arak, and Sebi.
Yamos.
Approach, Antonio, come—thou wast my friend,
I did believe thou wast, for I was thine,
And lov'd thee well, yes, I was kind to thee,
And lov'd thee for the kindness I bestow'd,
More than the misers of thy distant world
Doat on the coffers where they lay their treasures.
How hast thou answer'd my confiding friendship?
But come, draw near, why dost thou shrink apart?
The ill which thou hast done will soon be ended.
Behold this throng, whose every eye is turned
Towards a part of the dark rising sea,
Where I can never look—What see'st thou there?
Well may'st thou tremble—Tell me what thou see'st.

Ant.
A dim red flame.

Yamos.
And nothing more?—no sign?

Ant.
Yes, ever and anon it is eclipsed,
As if some busy figure intervened.

Yamos.
Idda is there alone—Nay, do not sink:
Thou hast a part in this terrific rite,
And I expect the full and dread performance—
Attend and answer me—What now appears?

Ant.
O take my life, and save me from this torment.

Yamos.
Be mute in all, but to my questioning—
Burns yet the light?

Ant.
It does.

Yamos.
See'st thou no sign?

Ant.
The billows rolling on the rising tide,
By fits obscure its dim and lurid glare.

Yamos.
Does it still burn?—Slave, slave, perform thy task.
What means that deep and universal sigh?

Ant.
The light is quench'd.—

Yamos.
My Idda is no more!
And the suppress'd affliction of my soul
May now take all its frenzy.

Orooko.
Hold his hand!

(Antonio stabs himself and falls.)
Yamos.
Ha! which of you did this?

Orooko.
Himself.

Yamos.
Himself!

Orooko.
With his own guilty hand he aim'd the knife.

Yamos.
Stop! touch him not! lest the self-murder'd corpse
Cause some contagion worse than this new crime.
Now, now, Orooko, loud, with all thy voice,
Command the sacrifice.

Orooko.
What sacrifice?

Yamos.
A victim meet for our apostacy;
Lead on the multitude and fire the town!

Orooko.
Stay, Yamos, stay; suspend thy rash design;
For if the crime of this self-slain arose
From causes adverse to his truth and science,
What deeper guilt had stain'd his short career,
But for their blest restraining—Heavenly truth,
Like the bright sun's unquenchable effulgence,
Which, from the foul and aguey fen, exhales
The foggy pestilence and dries its poison;
Receives no blemish from terrestrial vapor;
Serene, sublime, it holds its destin'd course
Above the momentary clouds that shadow
The human Chrysalis, whose mortal term,
By the slight tissue, spun from its own breast
Is pass'd in darkness and captivity.

Yamos.
(to Orooko.)
Ha! is the demon that in him deluded
Transferr'd to thee, who wast of all the world
The most oppos'd to his great mysteries?—
Then spread thy wings, and speed into the sun-shine!
(He stabs Orooko who falls.)
Come now, Atlantines, hurl your brands around,
Till but the ashes of the sacrifice
Be all the trace of our apostacy.—
Ghosts of our sires, pause in your airy chase,
And, as the flames of these proud towers ascend,
Around in hov'ring circles, view them burn.

[Curtain falls as the town is set on fire.