 | All-Hallow-Eve |  |
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SCENE II.
The Witches' Cot.Discovers Grimald, Nora, and Gelon, standing by a Fire, at which is placed a Waxen Image.
Gel.
Are these unearthly orgies done?
Grim.
Scarce begun!—Scarce begun!—
Come, sing one other strain with me,
To charm the spirit of destiny.
(They sing slowly and wild.)
Where art thou? Where art thou?
Busy Spirit, where art thou
Weaving the fates of mortals now?
Where art thou? &c.
Grim.
(Speaks.)
Where art thou? Where art thou?
Busy Spirit, where art thou
Weaving the fates of mortals now?
Art thou beneath the ocean wave,
Scraping the sea-weeds from the grave
Where the merry sailor must shortly lie?
Or art thou gone to bustle and ply
Where flaring standards flap the sky,
Working thy baleful web of woe,
Or binding wreaths for the hero's brow?
Or art thou gone to heaven above,
Away to the waning star of love,
To skim the dew-web from the tree,
Of which the golden skene shall be
That guides the lover's destiny?
Or watchest thou the stripling's bed,
Or the couch where maiden beauty is laid,
With dreams their feelings to suborn,
And sprinkle from thy living urn
The kindred spark that long shall burn?
Spirit! wherever thou may'st be,
Or gone to the caves beneath the sea,
Or flown the wild sea-rock to haunt
And scare the drowsy cormorant;
Whether thou rangest vale or steep,
Or watchest mellow beauty's sleep,
The monarch's throne, or the field of death,
The world above, or the world beneath,
We ask thy welcome presence here,
Come—Come—Appear—Appear.
(Pause.)
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Weaving the fates of mortals now?
Art thou beneath the ocean wave,
Scraping the sea-weeds from the grave
Where the merry sailor must shortly lie?
Or art thou gone to bustle and ply
Where flaring standards flap the sky,
Working thy baleful web of woe,
Or binding wreaths for the hero's brow?
Or art thou gone to heaven above,
Away to the waning star of love,
To skim the dew-web from the tree,
Of which the golden skene shall be
That guides the lover's destiny?
Or watchest thou the stripling's bed,
Or the couch where maiden beauty is laid,
With dreams their feelings to suborn,
And sprinkle from thy living urn
The kindred spark that long shall burn?
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Or gone to the caves beneath the sea,
Or flown the wild sea-rock to haunt
And scare the drowsy cormorant;
Whether thou rangest vale or steep,
Or watchest mellow beauty's sleep,
The monarch's throne, or the field of death,
The world above, or the world beneath,
We ask thy welcome presence here,
Come—Come—Appear—Appear.
I see thee not—I cannot see
The slightest shade or drapery
Of fate's own herald, known to me.
O come like a feeling, or come like a sound,
Or come like an odour along the ground;
Come like a film of floating blue,
Or come like the moss-crop's slightest flue,
Or glimmering rack of the midnight dew.
We wait thee motionless and dumb—
Come, O gentle Spirit! come.
(Pause.)
The slightest shade or drapery
Of fate's own herald, known to me.
O come like a feeling, or come like a sound,
Or come like an odour along the ground;
Come like a film of floating blue,
Or come like the moss-crop's slightest flue,
Or glimmering rack of the midnight dew.
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Come, O gentle Spirit! come.
Oh me! there is trouble and torsel here;
Some countervailing spirit is near,
Who will not let the gye appear.
Sister, go to the door and see;
Note the sound that comes from the tree,
And the vapour that sleeps on the midnight lea.
Note if the shred of silver grey
Floats o'er the belt of the starry ray,
Or streams in the cleft of the milky-way.
And look between the north and the east
For the star above the mountain's crest
That changes still its witching hue,—
Note if it's green, or red, or blue.
(Exit Nora.)
This is a night of mystery!
Maiden, say a hymn with me.
Some countervailing spirit is near,
Who will not let the gye appear.
Sister, go to the door and see;
Note the sound that comes from the tree,
And the vapour that sleeps on the midnight lea.
Note if the shred of silver grey
Floats o'er the belt of the starry ray,
Or streams in the cleft of the milky-way.
And look between the north and the east
For the star above the mountain's crest
That changes still its witching hue,—
Note if it's green, or red, or blue.
(Exit Nora.)
This is a night of mystery!
Maiden, say a hymn with me.
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(They sing soft and slow.)
Thou art weary, weary, weary!
Thou art weary and far away!
Hear me, gentle Spirit, hear me!
Come before the dawn of day!
Thou art weary, &c.
Re-enter Nora.
[Grim.]
Say, bodes the night's eye well or ill?
Nora.
I heard a small voice from the hill;
The vapour is deadly, pale, and still.
A murmuring sough is on the wood,
And the little star is red as blood.
Moules sits not on his throne to-night,
For there is not a hue of the grizly light;
But in the cleft of heaven I scan
The giant form of a naked man;
His eye is like the burning brand,
And he holds a sword in his right hand.
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All is not well!
By dint of spell,
Somewhere between the heavens and hell,
There is this night a wild deray,
The spirits have wandered from their way!
And the purple drops shall tinge the moon
As she wanders through the midnight noon;
And the dawning heaven shall all be red
With aerial blood by angels shed.
Be as it will,
I have the skill
To work by good, or to work by ill.
(They prick the Image alternately with sharp bodkins.)
Take that for pain!
Nora.
And that for thrall!
Grim.
And that for conscience, the worst of all!
If spirits come not, mortals shall!
Another chaunt, and then, and then,
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Spirits shall come or christian men.
(They chaunt.)
Where is Gil-Moules,
Where is Gil-Moules,
Works he not save when the tempest howls?
Where is Gil-Moules, &c.
Grim.
(Speaks.)
Sleep'st thou, wakest thou, lord of the wind?
Mount thy steeds and gallop them blind,
Leave the red thunder-bolt lagging behind;
And the long-tail'd fiery dragon outfly,
The rocket of heaven, the bomb of the sky;
Over the dog-star, over the wain,
Over the cloud and the rainbow's mane;
Over the mountain and over the sea,
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(They pierce the Figure alternately.)
Take that for trouble!
Nora.
And that for smart!
Grim.
And that for the pang that seeks the heart!
Nora.
That for madness!
Grim.
And that for thrall!
And that for conscience, the worst of all!
(Here Lord Hindlee enters furiously, half-naked —he runs his Sword through the Breast of the Figure and overturns it—then, in distracted mood, breaks away, leaving his Sword sticking in the Image.—Pause.)
Grim.
(With raptures.)
Hail to thee! hail to thee, Spirit of might!
I judged thee deft, and I judged aright!
But ah! I knew not half thy might!
Not half so high had been my wonder
If thou had'st cleft the earth asunder,
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In any shape of earth or hell!
But that the sons of men, submiss
Should leave their couch of happiness;
That knights and kings should quit their rest,
And trace the night at thy behest,
I knew it not! O, Spirit high,
Thine are the workings of destiny!—
Bless thee, fair lady of Hindlee towers,
(Kneeling to Gelon.)
These hills, these vales, and all are yours.
Nora.
Great joy and peace to thine and thee,
True love and high felicity;
No more our own dear Gelon Græme,
But Lady Hindlee shall be thy name.
Gel.
Ah me! I fear there is great offence;
I wish that I were safely hence!
Grim.
No evil thing shall thee perplex,
Thou hast a spirit above thy sex,
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What pity thou art Christian!
Thou can'st not soar in time of need
To deal with spirits or with the dead!
Or cause these mighty beings rise,
These great controuling energies!
O high should be thy gifted meed
Would'st thou renounce that shallow creed.
Gel.
Let me be gone!
If I had known
The half of what I have look'd upon,
I had never come here at midnight lone!
Grim.
Preserve that sword from human eye,
With it is twined thy destiny;
And wear upon thy bridal-day
This wounded scarf with the silver splay,
Else thou from bride-bed may'st be won
By elves this night that were outdone.
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Throw on this scarf; it has a charm
That soon the flame will renovate
Of mighty love, though turn'd to hate;
But never, while life and breath remain,
This sword and scarf must meet again!
Else woe to thee, and woe to me!
And woe to all that both shall see!
The hour thou givest this secret birth,
It is thy last upon the earth.—
(Exit Gelon with the Scarf and Sword.)
What thinkest thou?
Nora.
I did not trow
Thou hadst such wonderous power till now.
What is there that we may not do?
Grim.
Woe that we in the wild should won,
Where nothing mighty can be done!
Nothing of note or potence great,
Else nations should our deeds relate!
But pining death shall seize the flocks,
And the raven's voice among the rocks
Shall with exultings fill the air,
And drown the shepherd's bootless prayer;
The halter shall moulden in the stall,
And the plaid hang useless on the wall;
The hills shall split, and the thunder come,
And lightnings strike the Christian dumb.
Oh, how I farther long to know
The power of the spirits here below!
(Kneeling.)
Where nothing mighty can be done!
Nothing of note or potence great,
Else nations should our deeds relate!
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And the raven's voice among the rocks
Shall with exultings fill the air,
And drown the shepherd's bootless prayer;
The halter shall moulden in the stall,
And the plaid hang useless on the wall;
The hills shall split, and the thunder come,
And lightnings strike the Christian dumb.
Oh, how I farther long to know
The power of the spirits here below!
Hail to thee!—hail to thee, Spirit of power!
Thine is the might at the witching hour!—
Thine is the ear that was never defined,
The eye of the eagle, the speed of the wind!
To love thee and prove thee is all that I claim,
Until my release from this cumbersome frame:
Then, O how I'll joy, over land, over sea,
Over tempest and torrent, to revel with thee!
An impulse, or presence, unnoted to stand
By nest of the raven, or throne of the land;
Then bound through the firmament, lightsome and boon,
To sail on the comet, or sleep in the moon!
Hail to thee!—hail to thee! Spirit of wonder!—
Of the spectre, the dream—of the storm and the thunder!
Thine is the might at the witching hour!—
Thine is the ear that was never defined,
The eye of the eagle, the speed of the wind!
To love thee and prove thee is all that I claim,
Until my release from this cumbersome frame:
Then, O how I'll joy, over land, over sea,
Over tempest and torrent, to revel with thee!
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By nest of the raven, or throne of the land;
Then bound through the firmament, lightsome and boon,
To sail on the comet, or sleep in the moon!
Hail to thee!—hail to thee! Spirit of wonder!—
Of the spectre, the dream—of the storm and the thunder!
| All-Hallow-Eve | |