University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Scene I.

Before the mountain. Cipriano.
Cipriano.
Now that at last in his eternal round
Hyperion, after skirting either pole,
Of his own race has set the flaming goal
In heav'n of my probation under-ground:
Up from the mighty Titan with his feet
Touching the centre, and his forest-hair
Entangling with the stars; whose middle womb
Of two self-buried lives has been the tomb;
At last, my year's apprenticeship complete,
I rise to try my cunning, and as one
Arm'd in the dark who challenges the sun.
You heav'ns, for me your azure brows with cloud
Contract, or to your inmost depth unshroud:
Thou sapphire-floating counterpart below,
Obedient to my moon-like magic flow:
For me you mountains fall, you valleys rise,
With all your brooks and fountains far withdrawn;
You forests shudder underneath my sighs;
And whatsoever breathes in earth and skies;
You birds that on the bough salute the dawn;
And you wild creatures that through wood and glen
Do fly the hunter, or the hunter flies;
Yea, man himself, most terrible to men;
Troop to my word, about my footstep fawn;
Yea, ev'n you spirits that by viewless springs
Move and perplex the tangled web of things,
Wherever in the darkest crypt you lurk
Of nature, nature to my purpose work;
That not the dead material element,
But complicated with the life beyond
Up to pure spirit, shall my charm resent,
And take the motion of my magic wand;
And, once more shaken on her ancient throne,
In me old nature a new master own.

Lucifer.
But how is this, Cipriano, that misled
By hasty passion you affront the day
Ere master of the art of darkness?

Cipr.
Nay,
By that same blazing witness overhead
Standing in heav'n to mark the time foretold,
Since first imprison'd in this mountain-hold
My magic so preluded with the dread
Preliminary kingdom of the dead,
That not alone the womb of general earth
Which Death has crowded thick with second birth,
But monuments with marble lips composed
To dream till doomsday, suddenly disclosed,
And woke their sleepers centuries too soon
To stare upon the old remember'd moon.
Wearied of darkness, I will see the day:
Sick of the dead, the living will assay:
And if the ghastly year I have gone through
Bear half its promised harvest, will requite
With a too warm good-morrow the long night
That one cold living heart consign'd me to.

Luc.
Justina!

Cipr.
Aye, Justina: now no more
Obsequiously sighing at the door
That never open'd, nor the heart of stone
On which so long I vainly broke my own;
But of her soul and body, when and how
I will, I claim the forfeit here and now.

Luc.
Enough: the hour is come; do thou design
The earth with circle, pentagram, and trine;
The wandering airs with incantation twine;
While through her sleep-enchanted sense I shake
The virgin constancy I cannot break.
(Clouds roll before the mountain, hiding Cipriano.)
Thou nether realm of darkness and despair,
Whose fire-enthronèd emperor am I;
Where many-knotted till the word they lie,
Your subtlest spirits at the word untie,
And breathe them softly to this upper air;
With subtle soft insinuation fair
Of foul result encompass and attaint
The chastity of the rebellious saint
Who dares the Spirit of this world defy.
Spirits that do shapeless float
In darkness as in light the mote,
At my summons straightway take
Likeness of the fairest make,
And, her sleeping sense about
Seal'd from all the world without,
Through the bolted eyelids creep;
Entheatre the walls of sleep
With an Eden where the sheen
Of the leaf and flower between
All is freshest, yet with Eve's
Apple peeping through the leaves;
Through whose magic mazes may
Melancholy fancy stray
Till she lose herself, or into
Softer passion melt away:
While the scent-seducing rose
Gazing at her as she goes
With her turning as she turns,
Into her his passion burns;
While the wind among the boughs
Whispers half-remember'd vows;
Nightingale interpreters
Into their passion translate hers;
And the murmurs of a stream
Down one current draw the dream.
While for hidden chorus, I
At her dreaming supply
Such a comment as her own
Heart to nature's shall atone:
Till the secret influence
Of the genial season even
Holy blood that sets to heaven
Draws into the lower sense;
Till array'd in angel guise
Earthly memories surprise
Ev'n the virgin soul, and win
Holy pity's self to sin.

(The clouds roll away, and discover Justina asleep in her chamber.)
Lucifer
(at her ear).
Come forth, come forth, Justina, come; for scared
Winter is vanisht, and victorious Spring
Has hung her garland on the boughs he bared:
Come forth; there is a time for everything.

Justina
(in her sleep).
That was my father's voice—come, Livia—
My mantle—oh, not want it?—well then, come.

Luc.
Aye, come abroad, Justina; it is Spring;
The world is not with sunshine and with leaf
Renew'd to be the tomb of ceaseless grief;
Come forth: there is a time for everything.

Just.
How strange it is—
I think the garden never look'd so gay
As since my father died.

Luc.
Ev'n so: for now,
Returning with the summer wind, the hours
Dipt in the sun re-dress the grave with flowers,
And make new wreaths for the survivor's brow;
Whose spirit not to share were to refuse
The power that all creating, all renews
With self-diffusive warmth, that, with the sun's,
At this due season through creation runs,
Nor in the first creation more exprest
Than by the singing builder of the nest
That waves on this year's leaf, or by the rose
That underneath them in his glory glows;
Life's fountain, flower, and crown; without whose giving
Life itself were not, nor, without, worth living.

Chorus of Voices.
Life's fountain, flower, and crown; without whose giving
Life itself were not, nor, without, worth living.
Song.

Just.
These serenaders—singing their old songs
Under one's window—

Luc.
Aye, and if nature must decay or cease
Without it; what of nature's masterpiece?
Not in her outward lustre only, but
Ev'n in the soul within the jewel shut;
What but a fruitless blossom; or a lute
Without the hand to touch it music-mute:
Incense that will not rise to heav'n unfired;
By that same vernal spirit uninspired
That sends the blood up from the heart, and speaks
In the rekindled lustre of the cheeks?

Chorus.
Life's fountain, flower, and crown; without whose giving
Life itself were not, nor, without, worth living.
Song.

Just.
He beckon'd us, and then again was gone;
Oh look! under the tree there, Livia—
Where he sits—reading—scholar-like indeed!—
With the dark hair that was so white upon
His shoulder—but how deadly pale his face!—
And, statue-still-like, the quaint evergreen
Up and about him creeps, as one has seen
Round some old marble in a lonely place.

Luc.
Aye, look on that—for, as the story runs,
Ages ago, when all the world was young,
That ivy was a nymph of Latium,
Whose name was Hedera: so passing fair
That all who saw fell doting on her; but
Herself so icy-cruel, that her heart
Froze dead all those her eyes had set on fire.
Whom the just God who walk'd that early world,
By, right-revenging metamorphosis
Changed to a thing so abject-amorous,
She grovels on the ground to catch at any
Wither'd old trunk or sapling, in her way:
So little loved as loath'd, for strangling those
Round whom her deadly-deathless arms once close.
Song.

Luc.
Listen, Justina, listen and beware.

Just.
Again! That voice too?—But you know my father
Is ill—is in his chamber—
How sultry 'tis—the street is full and close—
Let us get home—why do they stare at us?
And murmur something—“Cipriano?—Where
“Is Cipriano?—lost to us—some say,
“And to himself,—self-slain—mad—Where is he?”
Alas, alas, I know not—

Luc.
Come and see—

Justina
(waking).
Mercy upon me! Who is this?

Luc.
Justina, your good angel,
Who, moved by your relenting to the sighs
Of one who lost himself for your disdain,
Will lead you to the cavern where he lies
Subsisting on the memory of your eyes—

Just.
'Twas all a dream!—

Luc.
That dreaming you fulfil.

Just.
Oh, no, with all my waking soul renounce.

Luc.
But, dreaming or awake, the soul is one,
And the deed purposed in Heaven's eyes is done.

Just.
Oh Christ! I cannot argue—I can pray,
Christ Jesus, oh, my Saviour, Jesu Christ!
Let not hell snatch away from Thee the soul
Thou gav'st Thy life to save!—Livia!—Livia!
Enter Livia.
Where is my father? where am I? Oh, I know—
In my own chamber—and my father—oh!—
But, Livia, who was it that but now
Was here—here in my very chamber—

Livia.
Madam?

Just.
You let none in? oh, no! I know it—but
Some one there was—here—now—as I cried out—
A dark, strange figure—

Livia.
My child, compose yourself;
No one has come, or gone, since you were laid
In your noon-slumber. This was but a dream.
The air is heavy; and the melancholy
You live alone with since your father's death—

Just.
A dream, a dream indeed—oh Livia,
That leaves his pressure yet upon my arm—
And that without the immediate help of God
I had not overcome—Oh, but the soul,
The soul must be unsteady in the faith,
So to be shaken even by a dream.
Oh, were my father here! But he's at rest—
I know he is—upon his Saviour's breast;
And—who knows!—may have carried up my cries
Ev'n to His ear upon whose breast he lies!
Give me my mantle, Livia; I'll to the church;
Where if but two or three are met in prayer
Together, He has promised to be there—
And I shall find Him.

Livia.
Oh, take care, take care!
You know the danger—in broad daylight too—
Or take me with you.

Just.
And endanger two?
Best serve us both by keeping close at home,
Praying for me as I will pray for you.

Scene II.

Entrance to the mountain cavern. Cipriano, in a magician's dress, with wand, &c.
What! do the powers of earth, and air, and hell,
Against their upstart emperor rebel?
Lo, in obedience to the rubric dark
The dusky cheek of earth with mystic mark
Of pentagram and circle I have lined,
And hung my fetters on the viewless wind,
And yet the star of stars, for whose ascent
I ransack all the lower firmament,
In unapparent darkness lags behind.
Whom once again with adjuration new
Of all the spirits whom these signs subdue,
Whether by land or water, night or day,
Whether awake or sleeping, yea or nay,
I summon now before me.—

Enter slowly a veiled Figure of Justina.
The Figure.
What dark spell
From the sequester'd sadness of my cell,
Through the still garden, through the giddy street,
And up the solitary mountain-side,
Leads me with sleep-involuntary feet?—

Cipr.
'Tis she, as yet though clouded!—oh divine
Justina!—

The Figure.
Cipriano!—

Cipr.
At last here,
In such a chamber where ev'n Phœbus fails
To pierce, and baffled breezes tell no tales,
At last, to crown the labour of a year
Of solitary toil and darkness—here!—
And at a price beside—but none too dear—
Oh year-long night well borne for such a day!
Oh soul, for one such sense well sold away!
Oh Now that makes for all the past amends,
Oh moment that eternal life transcends
To such a point of ecstasy, that just
About to reap the wishes that requite
All woes—

The Figure
(unveiling a skull and vanishing as it speaks).
Behold, the World and its delight
Is dust and ashes, dust and ashes, dust—

Cipr.
(flinging down his Wand).
Lucifer! Lucifer! Lucifer!—

Luc.
My son!

Cipr.
Quick! With a word—
How now?—
With a word—at once—
With all your might—

Luc.
Well, what with it?—

Cipr.
The charm—
Shatter it! shatter it, I say!—Is't done?
Is't vanisht—

Luc.
What has thus unsensed you?

Cipr.
Oh!—
You know it—saw it—did it—

Luc.
Come—be a man:
What, sacred with a mere death's-head?

Cipr.
Death's, indeed!—

Luc.
What was it more?—

Cipr.
Justina's seeming self—
After what solitary labour wrought,
And after what re-iterated charms,
Step by step here in all her beauty brought
Within the very circle of these arms,
Then to death's grisly lineaments resign'd
Slipt through them, and went wailing down the wind
“Ashes and dust and ashes”—
Nay, nay, pretend not that the fault was mine—
The written incantation line by line
I mutter'd, and the mystic figure drew;
You only are to blame—you only, you,
Cajoling me, or by your own cajoled,
Bringing me fleshless death for the warm life
For which my own eternal life is sold.

Luc.
You were too rash,—I warn'd you, and if not,
Who thinks at a first trial to succeed?
Another time—

Cipr.
No, no! No more of it!
What, have I so long dabbled with the dead,
That all I touch turns to corruption?
Was it indeed herself—her living self—
Till underneath my deadly contact slain;
Or having died during the terrible year
I have been living worse than dead with you,
What I beheld not she, but what she was,
Out of the tomb that only owns my spell
Drawn into momentary lifeliness
To mock me with the phantom of a beauty
Whose lineaments the mere impalpable air
Let in upon disfeatures—Was it she?

Luc.
She lives, and shall be yours.

Cipr.
Not if herself,
In more than all her living beauty breathing,
Came to efface that deadly counterfeit!—
Oh, what have I been doing all this while,
From which I wake as from a guilty dream,
But with my guilt's accomplice at my side
To prove its terrible reality!
Where were my ears, my eyes, my senses! where
The mother-wit which serves the common boor,
Not to resent that black academy,
Mess-mating with dead men and living fiends,
And not to know no good could come of it!—
My better self—the good that in me grew
By nature, and by good instruction till'd,
Under your shadow turn'd to poisonous weed;
And ev'n the darker art you bribed me with,
To master, if by questionable ways,
The power I sigh'd for in my better days,
So little reaching to the promised height,
As sinking me beneath the lowest fiend,
Who, for the inestimable self I sold,
Pays the false self you made me with false gold!

Luc.
When will blind fury, falling foul of all,
Light where it should? Suppose a fault so far,
As knowledge working through unpractised hands
Might fail at first encounter; all men know
How a mere sand will check a vast machine;
And in these complicated processes
An agency so insignificant
As to be wholly overlookt it was
At the last moment foil'd us.

Cipr.
But she lives!
Lives—from your clutches saved, and saved from mine—
Ev'n from that only shadow of my guilt
That could have touch'd her, saved—unguilty shame,
That now is left with all the guilt to me.
Oh that I knew a God in all the heav'ns
To thank, or ev'n of Tartarus—ev'n thee,
Thee would I bless, whatever power it be
That with that shadow saved her, and mock'd me
Back to my better senses. If not she,
What was it?

Luc.
What you saw.

Cipr.
A phantom?

Luc.
Well,
A phantom.

Cipr.
But how raised?

Luc.
What if by her?
She is a sorcerer as her father was.

Cipr.
A sorcerer! She a sorcerer! oh, black lie
To whiten your defeat! and, were it true,
Oh mighty doctor to be foil'd at last
By a mere woman!—If a sorcerer,
Then of a sort you deal not with, nor hell—
And ev'n Olympus likes the sport too well—
Raising a phantom not to draw me down
To deeper sin, but with its ghastly face
And hollow voice both telling of the tomb
They came from, warning me of what complexion
Were all the guilty wishes of this world.
But let the phantom go where gone it is—
Not of what mock'd me, but what saved herself,
By whatsoever means—aye, what was it,
That pitiful agency you told me of
So insignificant, as overlookt
At the last moment thwarted us?

Luc.
What matter?
When now provided for, and which when told
You know not—

Cipr.
Which I will be told to know—
For as one ris'n from darkness tow'rd the light,
A veil seems clearing from before my sight—
She is a sorcerer, and of the kind
That old Lisandro died suspected of?—
Oh cunning doctor, to outwit yourself,
Outwitted as you have been, and shall be
By him who if your devilish magic fail'd
To teach its purposed mischief,
Thus on his teacher turns it back in full
To force him to confess the counter-power
That foil'd us both.

(He catches up his wand.)
Luc.
Poor creature that you are!
Did not the master from his scholars hold
One sleight of hand that masters all the rest,
What magic needed to compel the devil
To convict those who find him out too late?
Yet to increase your wrath by leaving it
Blind in the pit your guilt consigns you to,
I shall not answer—

Cipr.
Then if your own hell
Cannot enforce you; by that Unknown Power
That saved Justina from your fangs, although
Yourself you cannot master, if you know,
I charge you name him to me!—

Luc.
(after a great flash of lightning, and thunder).
Jesus Christ!

Cipr.
(after a pause).
Ev'n so!—Christ Jesus—Jesus Christ—the same
That poor Lisandro died suspected of,
And I had heard and read of with the rest
But to despise, in spite of all the blood
By which the chosen few their faith confest—
The prophet-carpenter of Nazareth,
Poor, persecuted, buffeted, reviled,
Spit upon, crown'd with thorns, and crucified
With thieves—the Son of God—the Son of man,
Whose shape He took to teach them how to live,
And doff'd upon the cross to do away
The sin and death you and your devil-deities
Had heap'd on him from the beginning?

Luc.
Yea!—

Cipr.
Of the one sun of Deity one ray
That was before the world was, and that made
The world and all that is within it?

Luc.
Yea!

Cipr.
Eternal and Almighty then: and yet
Infinite Centre as he is of all
The all but infinite universe he made,
With eyes to see me plotting, and with ear
To hear one solitary creature pray,
From one dark corner of his kingdom?

Luc.
Yea!

Cipr.
All one, all when, all where, all good, all mighty,
All eye, all ear, all self-integrity—
Methinks this must be He of whom I read
In Greek and Roman sages dimly guess'd,
But never until now fully confest
In this poor carpenter of Nazareth,
With poor Justina for his confessor—
And now by thee—by thee—once and again
Spite of thyself—for answer me you must,
Convicted at the bar of your own thunder—
Is this the God for whom I sought so long
In mine own soul and those of other men,
Who from the world's beginning till to-day
Groped or were lost in utter darkness?

Luc.
Yea!

Cipr.
Enough; and your confession shall be mine—

Luc.
And to like purpose; to believe, confess,
And tremble, in the everlasting fire
Prepared for all who Him against their will
Confess, and in their deeds deny him—

Cipr.
Oh,
Like a flogg'd felon after full confession
Releast at last!

Luc.
To bind you mine for ever.

Cipr.
Thine! What art thou?

Luc.
The god whom you must worship.

Cipr.
There is no God but one, whom you and I
Alike acknowledge, as in Jesus Christ
Reveal'd to man. What other god art thou?

Luc.
Antichrist! He that all confessing Christ
Confess; Satan, the Serpent, the first Tempter,
Who tempted the first Father of mankind
With the same offer to a like result
That I have tempted thee with; yea, had power
Even Him in his humanity to tempt,
Though Him in vain; the god of this world; if
False god, true devil; true angel as I was,
Son of the morning, Lucifer, who fell
(As first I told thee, had'st thou ears to hear)
For my rebellion down from heaven to hell
More terrible than any Tartarus,
Where over those who fell with me I reign.
Whom, though with them bound in the self-same chain
Of everlasting torment, God allows
To reach my hands out of my prison-house
On all who like me from their God rebel,
As thou hast done.

Cipr.
Not when for God I knew him.

Luc.
Aye, but who but for pride and lust like mine
Had known Him sooner—

Cipr.
And had sooner known
But for thy lying gods that shut Him out.

Luc.
Which others much less wise saw through before.

Cipr.
All happy they then! But all guilty I,
Yet thus far guiltless of denying Him
Whom even thou confessest.

Luc.
But too late—
Already mine, if not so sworn before,
Yet by this bond—

Cipr.
For service unperform'd!
But unperform'd, or done, and payment due,
I fling myself and all my debt on Him
Who died to undertake them—

Luc.
He is the Saviour of the innocent,
Not of the guilty.

Cipr.
Who alone need saving!

Luc.
Damnation is the sinner's just award,
And He is just.

Cipr.
And being just, will not
For wilful blindness tax the want of light:
And All-good as Almighty, and therefore
As merciful as just, will not renounce
Ev'n the worst sinner who confesses Him,
And testifies confession with his blood.
Which, not to waste a moment's argument,
Too like the old logic that I lost my life in,
And hangs for ever dead upon the cross;
I will forthwith shout my confession,
Into the general ear of Antioch,
And from the evidence of thine own mouth,
Not thee alone, but all thy lying gods,
Convict; and you convicting before God,
Myself by man's tribunal judged and damn'd,
Trust by my own blood mixing with the tide
That flow'd for me from the Redeemer's side,
From those few damning drops to wash me free
That bound me thine for ever—

Lucifer
(seizing him).
Take my answer—

Cipriano
(escaping).
Oh, Saviour of Justina, save Thou me!

SCENE III.

The Hall of Justice in Antioch; Aurelio, Fabio, Senators, &c., just risen from Council.
Aurelio.
You have done well indeed; the very Church
These Christians flock'd to for safe blasphemy
Become the very net to catch them in.
How many, think you?

Fabio.
Not so many, sir,
As some that are of the most dangerous.

Aur.
Among the rest this girl, Lisandro's daughter,
As you and I know, Fabio, to our cost:
But now convicted and condemn'd is safe
From troubling us or Antioch any more.
Come, such good service asks substantial thanks;
What shall it be?

Fabio.
No other, if you please,
Than my son Floro's liberation,
Whom not without good reason for so long
You keep under the city's lock and key.

Aur.
As my own Lelio, and for a like cause;
Who both distracted by her witchery
Turn'd from fast friends to deadly enemies,
And, in each other's lives, so aimed at ours.
But no more chance of further quarrel now
For one whom Death anticipates for bride
Ere they again gird weapon at their side,
Set them both free forthwith.—
[Exit Fabio.
This cursèd woman whose fair face and foul
Behaviour was the city's talk and trouble,
Now proved a sorceress, is well condemn'd;
Not only for my sake and Fabio's,
But for all Antioch, whose better youth
She might, like ours, have carried after her
Through lust and duel into blasphemy.

Re-enter Fabio with Lelio and Floro.
Lelio.
Once more, sir, at your feet—

Aur.
Up, both of you.
Floro and Lelio, you understand
What I have done was of no testy humour,
But for three several sakes—
Your own, your fathers', and the city's peace.
Henceforward, by this seasonable use
Of public law for private purpose check'd,
Your fiery blood to better service turn.
Take hands, be friends; the cause of quarrel gone—

Lelio.
The cause of quarrel gone!—

Aur.
Be satisfied;
You will know better by and bye; meanwhile
Taking upon my word that so it is;
Which were it not indeed, you were not here
To doubt.

Floro
(aside).
Oh flimsy respite of revenge!—

Aur.
And now the business of the day well crown'd
With this so happy reconciliation,
You and I, Fabio, to our homes again,
Our homes once more, replenish'd with the peace
We both have miss'd so long.—What noise is that?

(Cries without).

Stop him! A madman! Stop him!—

Aur.
What is it, Fabio?

Fabio.
One like mad indeed,
In a strange garb, with flaring eyes, and hair
That streams behind him as he flies along,
Dragging a cloud of rabble after him.

Aur.
This is no place for either—shut the doors,
And post the soldiers to keep peace without—

(Cries without).

Stop him!

Floro and Lelio.
'Tis Cipriano!—

Aur.
Cipriano!—

Enter Cipriano.
Cipriano.
Aye, Cipriano, Cipriano's self,
Heretofore mad as you that call him so,
Now first himself.—Noble Aurelio,
Who sway'st the sword of Rome in Antioch;
And you, companions of my youthful love
And letters; you grave senate ranged above;
And you whose murmuring multitude below
Do make the marble hall of justice rock
From base to capital—hearken unto me:
Yes, I am Cipriano: I am he
So long and strangely lost, now strangely found—
The famous doctor of your schools, renown'd
Not Antioch only but the world about
For learning's prophet-paragon forsooth;
Who long pretending to provide the truth
For other men in fields where never true
Wheat, but a crop of mimic darnel grew,
Reap'd nothing for himself but doubt, doubt, doubt.
Then 'twas that looking with despair and ruth
Over the blasted harvest of my youth,
I saw Justina: saw, and put aside
The barren Pallas for a mortal bride
Divinelier fair than she is feign'd to be:
But in whose deep-entempled chastity
That look'd down holy cold upon my fire,
Lived eyes that but re-doubled vain desire.
Till this new passion, that more fiercely prey'd
Upon the wither'd spirit of dismay'd
Ambition, swiftly by denial blew
To fury that, transcending all control,
I made away the ruin of my soul
To one whom no chance tempest at my feet
In the mid tempest of temptation threw.
Who blinding me with the double deceit
Of loftier aspiration and more low
Than mortal or immortal man should owe
Fulfill'd for me, myself for his I bound;
With him and death and darkness closeted
In yonder mountain, while about its head
The sun his garland of the seasons wound,
In the dark school of magic I so read,
And wrought to such a questionable power
The black forbidden art I travail'd in,
That though the solid mountain from his base
With all his forest I might counterplace,
I could not one sweet solitary flower
Of beauty to my magic passion win.
Because her God was with her in that hour
To guard her virtue more than mountain-fast:
That only God, whom all my learning past
Fail'd to divine, but from the very foe
That would have kept Him from me come to know,
I come to you, to witness and make known:
One God, eternal, absolute, alone;
Of whom Christ Jesus—Jesus Christ, I say—
And, Antioch, open all your ears to-day—
Of that one Godhead one authentic ray,
Vizor'd awhile his Godhead in man's make,
Man's sin and death upon Himself to take;
For man made man; by man unmade and slain
Upon the cross that for mankind He bore—
Dead—buried—and in three days ris'n again
To His hereditary glory, bearing
All who with Him on earth His sorrow sharing
With Him shall dwell in glory evermore.
And all the gods I worship'd heretofore,
And all that you now worship and adore,
From thundering Zeus to cloven-footed Pan,
But lies and idols, by the hand of man
Of brass and stone—fit emblems as they be,
With ears that hear not; eyes that cannot see;
And multitude where only One can be—
From man's own lewd imagination built;
By that same devil held to that old guilt
Who tempted me to new. To whom indeed
If with my sin and blood myself I fee'd
For ever his—that bond of sin and blood
I trust to cancel in the double flood
Of baptism past, and the quick martyrdom
To which with this confession I am come.
Oh delegate of Cæsar to devour
The little flock of Jesus Christ! Behold
One lost sheep just admitted to the fold
Through the pure stream that rolling down the same
Mountain in which I sinn'd, and as I came
By holy hands administer'd, to-day
Shall wash the mountain of my sin away.
Lo, here I stand for judgment; by the blow
Of sudden execution, or such slow
Death as the devil shall, to maintain his lies,
By keeping life alive in death, devise.
Hack, rack, dismember, burn—or crucify,
Like Him who died to find me; Him that I
Will die to find; for whom, with whom, to die
Is life; and life without, and all his lust,
But dust and ashes, dust and ashes, dust—

(He falls senseless to the ground.)
Aurelio
(after a long pause).
So public and audacious blasphemy
Demands as instant vengeance. Wretched man,
Arise and hear your sentence—

Lelio.
Oh, sir, sir!
You speak to ice and marble—Cipriano!
Oh lookt for long, and best for ever lost!
But he is mad—he knows not what he says—
You would not, surely, on a madman visit
What only sane confession makes a crime?

Aur.
I never know how far such blasphemy,
Which seems to spread like wild-fire in the world,
Be fault or folly: only this I know,
I dare not disobey the stern decree
That Cæsar makes my office answer for.
Especially when one is led away
Of such persuasion and authority,
Still drawing after him the better blood
Of Antioch, to better or to worse.

Lelio.
Cipriano! Cipriano! Yet, pray the gods
He be past hearing me!

Fabio
(to Aurelio).
Sir, in your ear—
Justina's hour is come; and through the room
Where she was doom'd, she passes to her doom.

Aur.
Let us be gone; they must not look on her,
Nor know she is to die until “to die”
Be past predicament. Here let her wait,
Till he she drew along with her to sin
Revive to share with her its punishment.
Come, Lelio—come, Floro—be assured
I loved and honour'd this man as yourselves
Have honour'd him—but now—

Lelio.
Nay, sir, but—

Aur.
Nay,
Not I, but Cæsar, Lelio. Come away.

[Exeunt. Then Justina is brought in by soldiers, and left alone.]
Just.
All gone—all silence—and the sudden stroke,
Whose only mercy I besought, delay'd
To make my pang the fiercer.—What is here?—
Dead?—By the doom perhaps I am to die,
And laid across the threshold of the road
To trip me up with terror—Yet not so,
If but the life, once lighted here, has flown
Up the the living Centre that my own
Now trembles to!—God help him, breathing still?—
—Cipriano!—

Cipr.
Aye, I am ready—I can rise—
Is my time come?—Oh, God!
Have I repented and confest too late,
And this terrible witness of my crime
Stands at the door of death from which it came
To draw me deeper—

Just.
Cipriano!

Cipr.
Yet
Not yet disfeatured—nor the voice—
Oh, if not That—this time unsummon'd—come
To take me with you where I raised you from—
Once more—once more—assure me!—

Justina
(taking his hand).
Cipriano!—

Cipr.
And this, too, surely, is a living hand:
Though cold, oh, cold indeed—but yet, but yet,
Not dust and ashes, dust and ashes—

Just.
No—
But soon to be—

Cipr.
But soon—but soon to be—
But not as then?—

Just.
I understand you not—

Cipr.
I scarce myself—I must have been asleep—
But now not dreaming?

Just.
No, not dreaming.

Cipr.
No—
This is the judgment-hall of Antioch,
In which—I scarcely mind how long ago—
Is sentence pass'd on me?—

Just.
This is indeed
The judgment-hall of Antioch; but why
You here, and what the judgment you await,
I know not—

Cipr.
No.—But stranger yet to me
Why you yourself, Justina.—Oh my God!
It flashes all across me!
What, all your life long giving God his due,
Is treason unto Cæsar?—

Just.
Aye, Cipriano—
Against his edict having crept inside
God's fold with that good Shepherd for my guide,
My Saviour Jesus Christ!

Cipr.
My Saviour too,
And Shepherd—oh, the only good and true
Shepherd and Saviour—

Just.
You confess Him! You
Confess Him, Cipriano!

Cipr.
With my blood:
Which being all to that confession pledged,
Now waits but to be paid.

Just.
Oh, we shall die,
And go to heav'n together!

Cipr.
Amen! Amen!—
And yet—

Just.
You do not fear—and yet no shame—
What I have faced so long, that present dread
Is almost lost in long anticipation—

Cipr.
I fear not for this mortal. Would to God
This guilty blood by which in part I trust
To pay the forfeit of my soul with Heav'n
Would from man's hand redeem the innocence
That such atonement needs not.

Just.
Oh, to all
One faith and one atonement—

Cipr.
But if both,
If both indeed must perish by the doom
That one deserves and cries for—Oh, Justina,
Who upward ever with the certain step
Of faith hast follow'd unrepress'd by sin;
Now that thy foot is almost on the floor
Of heav'n, pray Him who opens thee the door,
Let with thee one repenting sinner in!

Just.
What more am I? And were I close to Him
As he upon whose breast he leaned on here,
No intercessor but Himself between
Himself and the worst sinner of us all—
If but repenting we believe in Him.

Cipr.
I do believe—I do repent—my faith
Have sign'd in water, and will seal in blood—

Just.
I have no other hope, but, in that, all.

Cipr.
Oh hope that almost is accomplishment,
Believing all with nothing to repent!

Just.
Oh, none so good as not to need—so bad
As not to find, His mercy. If you doubt
Because of your long dwelling in the darkness
To which the light was folly—oh 'twas shown
To the poor shepherd long before the wise;
And if to me, as simple—oh, not mine,
Not mine, oh God! the glory—nor ev'n theirs
From whom I drew it, and—Oh, Cipriano,
Methinks I see them bending from the skies
To take me up to them!

Cipr.
Whither could I
But into heaven's remotest corner creep,
Where I might only but discern thee, lost
With those you love in glory—

Just.
Hush! hush! hush!
These are wild words—if I so speak to one
So wise, while I am nothing—
But as you know—Oh, do not think of me,
But Him, into whose kingdom all who come
Are as His angels—

Cipr.
Aye, but to come there!—
Where if all intercession, even thine,
Be vain—you say so—yet before we pass
The gate of death together, as we shall,—
If then to part—for ever, and for ever—
Unless with your forgiveness in my hand—
But say that you forgive me!—

Just.
I forgive!
Still I, and I, again! Oh, Cipriano,
Pardon and intercession both alike
With Him alone; and had I to forgive—
Did not He pray upon the cross for those
Who slew Him—as I hope to do on mine
For mine—He bids us bless our enemies
And persecutors; which I think, I think,
You were not, Cipriano—why do you shudder?—
Save in pursuit of that—if vain to me,
Now you know all—

Cipr.
I now know all—but you
Not that, which asking your forgiveness for,
I dare not name to you, for fear the hand
I hold as anchor-fast to, break away,
And I drive back to hell upon a blast
That roar'd behind me to these very doors,
But stopt—ev'n in the very presence stopt,
That most condemns me his.

Just.
Alas, alas,
Again all wild to me. The time draws short—
Look not to me, but Him tow'rd whom alone
Sin is, and pardon comes from—

Cipr.
Oh, Justina,
You know not how enormous is my sin—

Just.
I know, not as His mercy infinite.

Cipr.
To Him—to thee—to Him through thee—

Just.
'Tis written,
Not all the sand of ocean, nor the stars
Of heav'n so many as His mercies are.

Cipr.
What! ev'n for one who, mad with pouring vows
Into an unrelenting human ear,
Gave himself up to Antichrist—the Fiend—
Though then for such I knew him not—to gain
By darkness all that love had sought in vain!
—Speak to me—if but that hereafter I
Shall never, never, hear your voice again—
Speak to me—

Just.
(after a long pause).
—By the Saviour on His cross
A sinner hung who but at that last hour
Cried out to be with Him; and was with Him
In Paradise ere night.

Cipr.
But was his sin
As mine enormous?—

Just.
Shall your hope be less,
Offering yourself for Christ's sake on that cross
The other only suffer'd for his sin?
Oh, when we come to perish, side by side,
Look but for Him between us crucified,
And call to Him for mercy; and, although
Scarlet, your sin shall be as white as snow!

Cipr.
Ev'n as you speak, yourself, though yet yourself,
In that full glory that you saw reveal'd
With those you love transfigured, and your voice
As from immeasurable altitude
Descending, tell me that, my shame and sin
Quencht in the death that opens wide to you
The gate, ev'n this great sinner shall pass through,
With Him, with them, with thee!—

Just.
Glory to God!—
Oh blest assurance on the very verge
That death is swallow'd up in victory!
And hark! the step of death is at the door—
Courage!—Almighty God through Jesus Christ
Pardon your sins and mine, and as a staff
Guide and support us through the terrible pass
That leads us to His rest!—

Cipr.
My own beloved!
Whose hand—Oh let it be no sin to say it!—
Is as the staff that God has put in mine—
To lead me through the shadow—yet ev'n now—
Ev'n now—at this last terrible moment—
Which, to secure my being with thee, thee
Forbids to stand between my Judge and me,
And in a few more moments, soul and soul
May read each other as an open scroll—
Yet, wilt thou yet believe me not so vile
To thee, to Him who made thee what thou art,
Till desperation of the only heart
I ever sigh'd for, by I knew not then
How just alienation, drove me down
To that accursèd thing?

Just.
My Cipriano!
Dost thou remember, in the lighter hour—
Then when my heart, although you saw it not,
All the while yearn'd to thee across the gulf
That yet it dared not pass—my telling thee
That only Death, which others disunites,
Should ever make us one? Behold! and now
The hour is come, and I redeem my vow.

(Here the play may finish: but for any one who would follow Calderon to the end,—Enter Fabio with Guard, who lead away Cipriano and Justina. Manent Eusebio, Julian, and Citizens.)
Citizen 1.
Alas! alas! alas! So young a pair!
And one so very wise!

Cit. 2.
And one so fair!

Cit. 3.
And both as calmly walking to their death
As others to a marriage festival.

Julian.
Looking as calm, at least, Eusebio,
As when, do you remember, at the last
Great festival of Zeus, we left him sitting
Upon the hill-side with his books?

Eusebio.
I think
Almost the last we saw of him: so soon,
Flinging his studies and his scholars by,
He went away into that solitude
Which ended in this madness, and now death
With her he lost his wits for.

Cit. 1.
And has found
In death whom living he pursued in vain.

Cit. 2
And after death, as they believe; and so
Thus cheerfully to meet it, if the scaffold
Divorce them to eternal union.

Cit. 3.
Strange that so wise a man
Should fall into so fond a superstition
Which none but ignorance has taken up.

Cit.
Oh, love, you know, like time works wonders.

Eusebio.
Well—
Antioch will never see so great a scholar.

Julian.
Nor we so courteous a Professor—
I would not see my dear old master die
Were all the wits he lost my legacy.

Citizens
talking.
One says that, as they went out hand in hand,
He saw a halo like about the moon
About their head, and moving as they went.

Citizens talking.

I saw it—


Fancy! fancy!—


Any how,
They leave it very dark behind them—Thunder!


They talk of madness and of blasphemy;
Neither of these, I think, looking much guilty.


And he, at any rate, I still maintain,
Least like to be deluded by the folly
For which the new religion is condemn'd.


Before his madness, certainly: but love
First crazed him, as I told you.


Well, if mad,
How guilty?


Hush! hush! These are dangerous words.


Be not you bitten by this madness, neighbour.
Rome's arm is long.


Aye, and some say her ears.


Then, ev'n if bitten, bark not—Thunder again!


And what unnatural darkness!


Well—a storm—


They say, you know, he was a sorcerer—
Indeed we saw the mystic dress he wore
All wrought with figures of astrology;
Nay, he confest himself as much; and now
May raise a storm to save—


There was a crash!


A bolt has fallen somewhere—the walls shake—


And the ground under—


Save us, Zeus—

Voices.
Away!—
The roof is falling in upon us—

(The wall at the back falls in, and discovers a scaffold with Cipriano and Justina dead, and Lucifer above them.)
Lucifer.
Stay!—
And hearken to what I am doom'd to tell.
I am the mighty minister of hell
You mis-call heav'n, and of the hellish crew
Of those false gods you worship for the True;
Who, to revenge her treason to the blind
Idolatry that has hoodwinkt mankind,
And his, whose halting wisdom after-knew
What her diviner virtue fore-divined,
By devilish plot and artifices thought
Each of them by the other to have caught;
But, thwarted by superior will, those eyes
That, by my fuel fed, had been a flame
To light them both to darkness down, became
As stars to lead together to the skies,
By such a doom as expiates his sin,
And her pure innocence lets sooner in
To that eternal bliss where, side by side,
They reign at His right hand for whom they died.
While I, convicted in my own despite
Thus to bear witness to the eternal light
Of which I lost, and they have won the crown,
Plunge to my own eternal darkness down.