The Mortal Gods and Other Plays Part 56

_Hie._ [_To Pyrrha_] You do not doubt?

_Pyrr._ Doubt now?

Nay, Hieron. I'll trust him with his _life_.

_Hie._ But----

_Bia._ [_Trembling_] O, ye gazing G.o.ds, must it be done?

In Athens' living heart set up the torch That leaves her a charred blotch where she lay white 'Neath heaven and smiled up to sister stars!

_Pyrr._ Come, Biades!

_Bia._ Shall not the earth be lost To G.o.d's own eye when Athens, quenched, no more Marks where we wander? I can not do it!

_Pyrr._ [_Taking the cresset_] Too late, My lord!

[Fixes light in the open embrasure, then places two others. Biades falls back, mantling his face]

_Hie._ To Phernes now! We must not boggle this!

_Pyrr._ If you've a doubt, sir, look on that. [_Points to Biades_]

_Hie._ I'll hasten back to you.

_Bia._ But note our light.

The galley rowers may return ere you, And move us to the east.

_Hie._ I shall not lose you.

_Bia._ What escort will you take? A n.o.ble one Will best please Phernes.

_Hie._ Mirador and Agis Shall go with me. Meanthes shall remain To be your watch.

_Bia._ You'll tell them nothing?

_Hie._ Sir, I've sworn. I shall say naught but this. That Athens Proffered you pardon, and you hold to Sparta.

[_Exit Hieron. Pyrrha watches from the door until the boats put off.

The sea is now dark. Biades takes up a harp and strums it_]

_Pyrr._ [_Turning_] You can do that? And I--I held my heart At halt, there at the door, nor turned my head Lest pity should emburn my eyes to tears. [_Crosses to him_]

Dost know that all the juniper in the world, Burnt in thy house of honor, would not cleanse Its doors of stench? [_Throws the harp aside_] And you can use that air For breath of song!

_Bia._ Those are the bitterest words That ever dropped me gall, but I can find A crushed balsam in them,--for they say You might have loved me, Pyrrha.

_Pyrr._ I might.

_Bia._ You did.

The moment that I cast my Spartan mask And showed me true to Athens, you were mine.

That instant there was joy-fall on your heart That swept its icy sentinels with fire, And they were down. Oh, had I then proved staunch, Ta'en helmet off to death and bade him strike, You would have closed my eyes with kisses warm As rose-drift on a tomb----

_Pyrr._ Nay, I'd have kept Those eyes to be my light on earth, not star Elysian skies. Had fought for you against My mother Sparta. Fought as woman fights For her one love,--with wit and armed tongue, And cunning that throws puzzle on the G.o.ds.

Fought till subdued Death had knelt to Fate And prayed your life for me!

_Bia._ Have I lost that?

_Pyrr._ You yielded--sank--unl.u.s.tred even your soul For a poor pinch of time----

_Bia._ But if some touch Of heaven could make me true again----

_Pyrr._ Look on Those lights, that you with single breath could turn To weeping smoke,--they've lit a quenchless wreck That all your sighs blow vain against,--a flame Ungovernable to remorse. Not furrowing winds That split the watery fields to Thetis' bed, And make a foamy Ural of her sh.o.r.e, Can sweep it out. Ay, groan and shake, And draw your mantle up! Behind a cover Thick as Taygetus' sides, I'd see you limned In shame!

_Bia._ [_Springing up_] What's shame to love? To love fire-sprung From instant meeting of fore-strangered eyes?

And such was ours, there in that Athens' grove.

Imperial of itself, it asks no loan Of subject virtue's smock to drape it royal.

As fen-born vapors seem to nest the stars, Yet far below them do but thatch the world When they look down, the va.s.sal qualities May lift no touch to love, that yet must wear, To earth's unvantaged eyes, their reek and hue.

_Pyrr._ Aerial love is but an earthling still, It must come down for food or mortal die, And what but virtues feed it?

_Bia._ Nay, you speak Of a fair, lesser thing,--a grace not lit From thurible in uncreated Hand, But coaxed from clay to a persuaded life.

Garbed as the days,--patched, plastered, hung with dear Possessive vanities, it serves to make Contentment's bed, and cook a patient meal On comfort's hearth,--even snuggles in the void That else might ache, sings low, and makes Companioned feet tread bravely to the grave.

It has a thousand names, but never one Is love. Be thine that white, ungendered spark, And naught can feed it, naught can make it less.

Virtue and vice, n.o.bility and shame, Are rags that drop away, while you sweep on, Stripped as a flame, with arms about your star.

[_Pyrrha is silent. Both start at sound of a noise on the water_]

_Pyrr._ What sound is that?

_Bia._ The rowers are returning.

_Pyrr._ So quietly?

_Bia._ [_Goes to door and closes it_] The world shall not come in On me and you. Be mine this broken hour, And Hieron may flute through after-time At secret doors where you lock up your favors.

For you will go with him.

_Pyrr._ A prophet too?

_Bia._ You'll make his home, but I shall come and go The unseen master there.

_Pyrr._ Now for the vision!

_Bia._ You'll watch your door,--the unheard step is mine,-- And rock the babe born of a dream of me.

And I, far-wandered, lost unto myself, Shall never lose you, Pyrrha. As the light Wrapping the wave reveals its silver dance, My being shall exult through shade and wear The chlamys of your gleam. Your voice behind The wind shall draw me lover-lipped to meet Adventure's breath. You'll lie upon the hush That girdles evening,--be the thrill within The throstle's note, and silence when His song is done.

_Pyrr._ Nay, it will speak of Phania, Of Sybaris.----

_Bia._ Ay, and a hundred more In whom I've sought for thee, my Pyrrha, always thee!

'Twill speak of them as statues speak of shards About their feet,--the sculptor's broken dreams That made the perfect one.

[_The s.h.i.+p rocks_]