University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

—THE ISLAND.
Enter LESBIA, PHILIP, LAOGHAIRE, the CAPTAIN, and POLONIA.
LESBIA.
While along the road we stray,
Following where you guide us, let us say
Why we have come hither now;
It was to see you, and to you avow
All the plans that we have made.

POLONIA.
Say on, to speak your mind be not afraid,
While my footsteps you pursue,
Because a sight I bring you now to view
Such as mortal eyes ne'er saw.

LESBIA.
Thus from before my thoughts the veil I draw;
You, Polonia, hither came
To feed, among these wilds, religion's flame,
Leaving me the splendid care
Of a crown: 'tis right I share
With you the secrets of my heart,
And so the whole I will to thee impart:
My will, being sacrificed, demands
Not advice, my sister, but commands:
Woman needs a stronger head
Than is her own, for council—she must wed.

POLONIA.
Yes: and much I shall rejoice
If for a bridegroom Philip is your choice,
For a double joy 'twill be
To give a husband and a crown to thee—
That my love may be the source
Whence all your blessings flow.

LESBIA.
For many a course
Of the sun—which lives and dies
Daily and nightly 'mid the changing skies—
That glorious Phœnix which doth give
New life in its refulgence—may'st thou live!

POLONIA.
Now that you have said so much
On what concerns your marriage, let us touch
On the matter that doth send
You hither after me, and so attend:—
In a penitential glow,
A man came hither whom we all do know,
Seeking out for Patrick's cave,
To enter there, and so his soul to save:
He did enter, and to-day
Again comes forth: to show you that dismay
That wonder cannot greater be,
Here I have brought you all this miracle to see:
What is his name I have not said,
Lest you, perchance, disturbed by inward dread,
Should not see the end I sought,
And so along with me I have ye brought.

LESBIA.
Oh! my sister, it is right
That I should mingle terror with delight!

PHILIP.
All of us who hither go,
Desire the truth of all these things to know.

POLONIA.
If, through want of courage, he
Is doomed for ever in the cave to be,
We, at least, shall know his fate;
But if he comes forth from the cave elate,
Then from him, at length, we'll hear
What these strange things may be: I only fear
That, through awe, he may not speak,
And, flying from us, he, perchance, may seek
Some wild solitude alone.

LESBIA.
In wondrous ways the power of God is shown!

CAPTAIN.
At the proper time we're here,
For see, the monks in lengthened file appear:
Shedding tears!—with footsteps slow—
On to the cave in silent thought they go,
That they may the entrance ope.

Enter, in the habit of CANONS, a number of Religious; they reach the cave, from which LUDOVICO issues like one amazed.
FIRST CANON.
O Lord of Heaven! in whom is all our hope
Some day to behold thy realm,
Let not this dungeon cave this soul overwhelm:
Let him back his footsteps trace
From out the pit that knows not of thy face!

POLONIA.
See!

FIRST CANON.
What joy to us is given!

PHILIP.
It is Ludovico!

LUDOVICO.
Aid me, Heaven!
Is it possible that I,
After so many years behold the sky?
And enjoy its golden light?

CAPTAIN.
How confused!

LAOGHAIRE.
How blinded with affright!

FIRST CANON.
Embrace me, thou hast acted well!

LUDOVICO.
My arms were chains, my bosom were a cell:
Since, Polonia, thou art here,
I, to obtain my pardon, do not fear:
Philip ever bless the Lord,
For twice an angel saved thee from my sword,
As I watched for thee by night—
Pardon I ask of all: and now in flight
I shall seek some desert place,
Where, unseen by any human face,
I, in pain, some hope may glean:
He who could see the things that I have seen
Would to live in suffering seek.

FIRST CANON.
In the name of God, I bid thee speak,
Enio, of the things you've seen.

LUDOVICO.
To so sacred a command I lean
Submissive, and that earth may be
Startled from its fearful apathy;
And that man may now begin
To rise from out the darksome death of sin,
Waken'd by the tidings that I send,
To the grave story of this cave attend:—
After solemn preparation,
Which so great a venture needed,
And of all a tender farewell
Having taken, I departed,
Firm in faith and strong in valour,
This most wondrous cave to enter,
Placing in my God reliance,
And a thousand times repeating
Those mysterious words that even
Hell itself doth hear with trembling,
Slowly entering by the threshold,
There a little while I waited
For the closing of the portal:
When it closed at length I found me
In such thick and pitchy darkness—
In a night so black and mournful—
That I closed my eyes, and, blinded
In this way, proceeded onward
Till I reached, with hands outstretchéd,
A vast wall that rose before me:
Following the dark wall's windings
For about some twenty paces,
I approached some rocks, where gleaming
Through a chink, a light so dubious
Enter'd that 'twas scarcely light;
As when we behold the coming
Of the dawn amid the orient,
We are doubtful if the twilight
Be the light of morn or not;
Still along the left hand keeping,
Soon I entered on a pathway,
Where the earth began to tremble
Underneath my frightened footsteps,
As if it would sink in ruin;
Almost lifeless there I tarried,
Till a dreadful clap of thunder,
With its horrid clangour, woke me
From my trance, and my oblivion;
And the earth, where I was standing,
Opening its centre, hurled me
Headlong down the dark abysses,
Where the stones and earth that followed
Made a sepulchre around me:
In a spacious hall of jasper
Then I found me, where the chisel
Round about had left its traces
In the wondrous architecture.
From a door of bronze there issued
Twelve grave men, in snow-white garments,
Who, respectfully approaching,
Gave me courteous salutation;
One of them, who seemed superior
To the others, said: “Remember
That you place your faith in God;
Be not frightened at beholding
Demon bands your course opposing,
For if you should be so wretched
As to wish to turn back, wrought on
By their promises or threat'nings—
You in Hell must ever tarry,
Suff'ring everlasting torments:”
These twelve men were blesséd angels,
Who thus raised my drooping spirits,
And renewed my sinking courage.
Soon the spacious hall was peopled
With a host of demon shadows—
Hellish visions—rebel spirits—
Bearing shapes so dark and hideous,
That the earth has not a monster
That these demons doth resemble;
And one said: “O foolish mortal,
Madman, idiot, thou who seekest
Ere thy time the pain that waits thee,
And the woe that thou dost merit:
If thy crimes are great, 'tis proper
That thy own heart doth condemn thee,
For thou need'st not hope for mercy
In the eye of God for ever:
For what reason comest thou hither?
Back again to earth returning,
Let your whole life there be finished,
Dying as you have been living:
Then indeed you may come see us,
And ascend the seat predestined
For thee in this darksome region,
Which must be thy place for ever.”
Giving to these words no answer,
Then with blows they fell upon me,
Bound my hands and feet together,
Pierced me with sharp hooks of metal,
And along the chambers drew me,
Till they reached a raging bonfire,
In the midst of which they threw me;
All I said was: Jesus! aid me!
When the hideous demons vanished,
And the flames were all extinguished!
After this I was conducted
To a field, whose blackened surface
Only bore wild thorns and brambles
In the place of pinks and roses;
Here the cold wind penetrated
With its subtle breath each member
Deeper than the sharpest weapon:
Here, in darksome caverns under,
Were the souls of many guarded,
And such mournful wailings issued—
Such dread cries—such imprecations
Heaped on parents and relations—
Such forlorn, despairing voices—
Such wild blasphemies and curses,
O'er and o'er again repeated—
That the very demons trembled:
Passing onward, then I found me
In a meadow which was cover'd
O'er with flames instead of grasses,
Which before the wind were swaying,
Just, as in the burning August,
Bend the ripe ears of the harvest;
So vast the burning plain extended
That no eye could reach its limits:
In the midst of it were lying,
Wrapp'd in flames, unnumber'd people,
Through whose hands and feet were driven
Stakes and pins of burning iron,
Nailing them unto the earth;
On their entrails, fiery serpents
Gnawed for ever, and the wretches,
In their agonizing torments,
Bit the ground, and then expiring,
Woke again to life and suffering;
Then the vengeful demons threw me
In the flames, which quickly vanished
At the sacred name I called on.
Then, I came where they were healing
These same wounds with potent caustic,
Pouring o'er the hideous ulcers
Melted lead and burning rosin;—
Who at this will not afflict him?
Who at this will not uplift him?
Who at this will feel no sorrow?
Who will not despair and tremble?
Then I saw, from out a mansion,
Issuing from its walls and doorway,
Flames arise, as when fire seizes
On an earthly house, it bursts forth
By whatever vent it findeth;
This, they told me, was the Villa
Of Enjoyment—Recreation's
Bath—where women who indulged in
Unguents, odours, rouge, and washes,
In the other life, were punished:
There I entered, and saw in it,
Bathing in a snow-filled basin,
Many fair and lovely women;
In the water they were standing,
Circled round by snakes and serpents—
Which, of these cold icy billows,
Were the syrens and the dolphins—
There their limbs were stiff and frozen,
In the clear, transparent crystal,
And their hair on end was standing,
And their teeth together striking;—
Then they led me to a mountain
Which upraised its lofty forehead
Through the heavens' blue veil of crystal;
On its summit, a volcano
Blazed afar, from out whose crater
Flames burst forth, and burning lava,
In whose slow and blazing current
I saw many souls descending;
When they reached the base, returning
Once again they climbed the mountain,
Thus for many times repeating
Their descending and ascending;
Then a burning vapour blowing,
Made me quickly seek an exit
From this wild volcanic region:
Forth I issued, and experienced
A new wind upon the outside,
On whose wing came myriad legions.
Then, 'mid blows and many insults,
I approached another quarter:
There it seemed that many spirits,
I had known elsewhere, were gathered
Into one vast congregation,
Where, although 'twas plain they suffered,
Still they looked with joyous faces,
Wore a peaceable appearance,
Uttered no impatient accents,
But with moisten'd eyes uplifted
Towards the heavens, appeared imploring
Pity, and their sins lamenting.
This, in truth, was Purgatory,
Where the sins that are more venial
Are purged out; the angry demons,
Seeing that I did not tremble,
Rather that I waxed in courage,
Tried upon me greater horrors:
To a river did they lead me,
Flowers of fire were on its margin,
Liquid sulphur was its current,
Many-headed hydras—serpents—
Monsters of the deep were in it;
It was very broad, and o'er it
Lay a bridge, so slight and narrow
That it seemed a thin line only;
It appeared so weak and fragile
That the slightest weight would sink it:
Here thy pathway lies, they told me,
O'er this bridge so weak and narrow;
And, for thy still greater horror,
Look at those who've pass'd before thee:
Then I look'd, and saw the wretches,
Who the passage were attempting,
Fall amid the sulphurous current,
Where the snakes with teeth and talons
Tore them in a thousand pieces;
Notwithstanding all these horrors,
I, the name of God invoking,
Undertook the dreadful passage,
And undaunted by the billows,
Or the winds that blew around me,
Reached the other side in safety.
Here within a wood I found me,
So delightful and so fertile,
That the past was all forgotten;
On my path rose stately cedars,
Laurels—all the trees of Eden,
While the ground, with rose-leaves scattered,
Spread its white and verdant carpet;
Tender birds in all the branches
Told their amorous complainings
To the many murmuring streamlets,
To the thousand crystal fountains.
Then I saw a stately city,
Which amid the heavens uplifted
Many pinnacles and turrets;
Precious gold composed its portals,
All with flashing diamonds garnish'd,
Topaz, emerald, and ruby,
Intermix'd their varied lustre;
Ere I reached the gates, they open'd,
And the Saints in long procession
Came to meet me, men and women,
Young and old, and youths and maidens,
All approached serene and happy;
Choirs of Seraphim and Angels,
Breathing Heaven's delicious music,
Sweetly sung divinest anthems.
After these at length approached me
The resplendent—the most glorious—
The great Patrick—the Apostle.
Much that dazzling sight rejoiced me,
For by it I was enabled
To fulfil my early promise,
In my lifetime to behold him.
He and all the rest embraced me,
Pleased at my extreme good fortune;
Bidding me farewell, he told me
That no living man could enter
That most glorious, happy city;
But that I, to earth returning,
Should await God's time and pleasure.
Back the proper way I wandered
Unobstructed by the demons,
And at length approached the entrance,
When you came to seek and see me.
Since I have escaped this danger,
Holy fathers, all I covet
Is to live and die amongst you.
For with this is now concluded
The historic legend told us
By Dionysius the great Carthusian,
With Henricus Salteriensis,
Cesarius Heisterbachénsis
Matthew Paris, and Ranulphus,
Monbrisius, Marolicus Siculus,
David Rothe, and the judicious
Primate over all Hibernia,
Bellarmino, Beda, Serpi,
Friar Dymas, Jacob Sotin,
Messingham, and in conclusion
The belief and pious feeling
Which have everywhere maintained it:
That the drama may be ended,
And your plaudits may begin.