University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

—A REMOTE PART OF THE MOUNTAIN: AT THE EXTREMITY OF THE STAGE A GLOOMY CAVERN.
Enter the KING, PHILIP, LESBIA, LAOGHAIRE, the CAPTAIN, and a crowd of people, conducted by PATRICK.
KING.
Pause, O Patrick! thou art going
To a dark and dismal spot—
Where the mid-day sun hath not
Ever enter'd bright and glowing—
Where no living thing is growing,
Shunn'd at once by man and brute.
Cease then from thy vain endeavour,
For that rugged path was never
Trodden by a human foot!

PHILIP.
We for many a lengthen'd year,
Who have lived here from our youth,
Never dared to learn the truth
Of the secrets hidden here:
For the entrance did appear
Terror-guarded, as to make
Even the bravest bosom chill!
None have ever cross'd this hill,
Or this dark mysterious lake.

KING.
And the only sound we heard,
Borne the troubled wind along,
Was the sad funereal song
Of some lone nocturnal bird.

PHILIP.
Do not persist to enter here.

PATRICK.
Let not fear disturb your breasts—
'Tis a heavenly treasure rests
In this cavern.

KING.
What is fear?
Could the wild volcano wake
Any feeling of the name?
No; although the central flame
Rush'd thereout, and lightnings brake
From the Heaven's disjointed sphere—
Though the cover'd earth were brown
With the smoke and fire rain'd down,
Yet my soul were proof to fear.

Enter POLONIA.
POLONIA.
Stay! unhappy people, stay!
Daring, wild, and indiscreet,
Pass not in with erring feet—
Ruin lieth in the way!
From myself, with hurried footsteps, flying,
I have sought this wilderness profound:
Where the pure bright summer beam is dying
In the shadow of this hill oak-crown'd—
That at length as in its dark grave lying,
Never more could my offence be found;
Here I seek a brief repose from strife,
Shutting out the angry waves of life—
Not a guide had hostile fate decreed me,
As I dared upon my path to stray,
Vain the hand that would attempt to lead me,
Through the tangled wildness of the way;
From the terror yet I have not freed me—
From the admiration and dismay,
Which were waken'd by this mountain's gloom,
And the hidden wonders of its womb;
See this rock (that it has not decended
O'er the vale a miracle appears!)
Still it hangs as it has hung suspended,
Threat'ning ruin for unnumber'd years;
In the mountain's cavern'd jaws extended
Still it lieth—checks and interferes
With the breath that from this cave escapes,
Wherewith the melancholy mountain gapes:
By these cypress-trees, in terror speeding
Through the lips of sever'd rocks, I stray'd,
There I saw a monstrous neck receding,
Deep and dark and noisome in the shade,
Though little life the sunless air was breeding,
Some useless plants about the entrance play'd
Of that vast space—the horror and affright
Of day, and dwelling of the frozen night:
I enter'd there to try and make my dwelling
Within the cave: but here my accents fail,
My troubled voice, against my will rebelling,
Doth interrupt so terrible a tale:
What novel horror, all the past excelling,
Must I relate to you, with cheeks all pale,
Without cold terror on my bosom seizing,
And even my voice, my breath, my action freezing?
But scarce had I o'ercome my hesitation,
And gone within the cavern's vaults profound,
When I heard such shrieks of lamentation,
Screams of grief that shook the walls around—
Curses, blasphemy, and desperation;
Crimes avow'd that would even Hell astound—
Which the Heavens, determined not to hear,
Had placed within this prison dark and drear.
Let him come who doubts what I am telling—
Let him bravely enter who denies—
Soon his ears shall hear the dreadful yelling,
Soon the horrors gleam before his eyes—
But for me I feel my bosom swelling,
And my tongue grow silent with surprise:
I must cease—for it is wrong, I feel,
Heaven's most wondrous secrets to reveal.

PATRICK.
This cave, Egerio, which you see, concealeth
Many mysteries of life and death,
Not for him whose hardened bosom feeleth
Nought of true repentance or true faith.
But he who freely enters, who revealeth
All his sins with penitential breath,
Shall endure his purgatory then,
And return forgiven back again.

KING.
Dost thou think, O Patrick, that my spirit
Is so despicable, poor, and weak,
That a woman's nature I inherit?
But which of you shall enter? Philip, speak.

PHILIP.
My Lord, I dare not.

KING.
Captain, then the merit
Is for thee.

CAPTAIN.
My Lord, some other seek.

KING.
Laoghaire, thou wilt not act like those?

LAOGHAIRE.
My gracious Lord, the Heavens interpose!

KING.
O cowards! lost to every sense of shame!
Unfit to gird the warrior's sword around
Your shrinking loins—Men are ye but in name!
Well, I myself shall be the first to sound
The depths of this enchantment and proclaim
Unto this Christian, that my heart unawed,
Nor dreads his incantations, nor his God!

[Here the mouth of the cave is discovered, the most horrible that can be imagined; within it is a pit, into which EGERIO rushes; he sinks in it with much noise— flames rise from below, and many voices are heard.]
POLONIA.
How terrible!

LAOGHAIRE.
How awful!

PHILIP.
What a wonder!

CAPTAIN.
The earth is breathing out its central fire.

[Exit.
LAOGHAIRE.
The axes of the sky are burst asunder.

[Exit.
POLONIA.
The Heavens are loos'ning their collected ire.

[Exit.
LESBIA.
The earth doth shake, and peals the sullen thunder.

[Exit.
PATRICK.
O Mighty Lord, who will not now admire
Thy wondrous works?

[Exit.
PHILIP.
Who that is not insane
Will enter Patrick's Purgatory again?

[Exit.