The Poetical Works Of Robert Bridges Part 11

ACT III

_CHORUS._

_Song._

Lo where the virgin veiled in airy beams, All-holy Morn, in splendor awakening, Heav'n's gate hath unbarred, the golden Aerial lattices set open.

With music endeth night's prisoning terror, 660 With flow'ry incense: Haste to salute the sun, That for the day's chase, like a huntsman, With flas.h.i.+ng arms cometh o'er the mountain.

_Inter se._ That were a song for Artemis--I have heard Men thus salute the rising sun in spring-- --See, we have wreaths enough and garlands plenty To hide our lov'd Persephone from sight If she should come.--But think you she will come?-- If one might trust the heavens, it is a morn Promising happiness--'Tis like the day 670 That brought us all our grief a year ago.--

_ODE._

O that the earth, or only this fair isle wer' ours Amid the ocean's blue billows, With flow'ry woodland, stately mountain and valley, Cascading and lilied river; Nor ever a mortal envious, laborious, By anguish or dull care opprest, Should come polluting with remorseful countenance Our haunt of easy gaiety.

For us the gra.s.sy slopes, the country's airiness, 680 The lofty whispering forest, Where rapturously Philomel invoketh the night And million eager throats the morn; With doves at evening softly cooing, and mellow Cadences of the dewy thrush.

We love the gentle deer, the nimble antelope; Mice love we and springing squirrels; To watch the gaudy flies visit the blooms, to hear On ev'ry mead the gra.s.shopper.

All thro' the spring-tide, thro' the indolent summer, 690 (If only this fair isle wer' ours) Here might we dwell, forgetful of the weedy caves Beneath the ocean's blue billows.

_Enter Demeter._

CH. Hail, mighty Mother!--Welcome, great Demeter!-- (1) This day bring joy to thee, and peace to man!

DEM. I welcome you, my loving true allies, And thank you, who for me your gentle tempers Have stiffen'd in rebellion, and so long Hara.s.s'd the foe. Here on this field of flowers I have bid you share my victory or defeat. 700 For Hermes hath this day command from Zeus To lead our lost Persephone from h.e.l.l, Hither whence she was stolen.--And yet, alas!

Tho' Zeus is won, some secret power thwarts me; All is not won: a cloud is o'er my spirit.

Wherefore not yet I boast, nor will rejoice Till mine eyes see her, and my arms enfold her, And breast to breast we meet in fond embrace.

CH. Well hast thou fought, great G.o.ddess, so to wrest Zeus from his word. We thank thee, call'd to share 710 Thy triumph, and rejoice. Yet O, we pray, Make thou this day a day of peace for man!

Even if Persephone be not restored, Whether Aidoneus hold her or release, Relent thou.--Stay thine anger, mighty G.o.ddess; Nor with thy hateful famine slay mankind.

DEM. Say not that word 'relent' lest Hades hear!

CH. Consider rather if mankind should hear.

DEM. Do ye love man?

CH. We have seen his sorrows, Lady ...

DEM. And what can ye have seen that I know not?-- His sorrow?--Ah my sorrow!--and ye bid 721 Me to relent; whose deeds of fond compa.s.sion Have in this year of agony built up A story for all time that shall go wand'ring Further than I have wander'd;--whereto all ears Shall hearken ever, as ye will hearken now.

CH. Happy are we, who first shall hear the tale From thine own lips, and tell it to the sea.

DEM. Attend then while I tell.-- --Parting from Hermes hence, anger'd at heart, 730 Self-exiled from the heav'ns, forgone, alone, My anguish fasten'd on me, as I went Wandering an alien in the haunts of men.

To screen my woe I put my G.o.dhead off, Taking the likeness of a worthy dame, A woman of the people well in years; Till going un.o.bserv'd, it irked me soon To be unoccupy'd save by my grief, While men might find distraction for their sorrows In useful toil. Then, of my pity rather 740 Than hope to find their simple cure my own, I took resolve to share and serve their needs, And be as one of them.

CH. Ah, mighty G.o.ddess, Coudst thou so put thy dignities away, And suffer the familiar brunt of men?

DEM. In all things even as they.--And sitting down One evening at Eleusis, by the well Under an olive-tree, likening myself Outwardly to some kindly-hearted matron, Whose wisdom and experience are of worth 750 Either where childhood clamorously speaks The engrossing charge of Aphrodite's gifts, Or merry maidens in wide-echoing halls Want sober governance;--to me, as there I sat, the daughters of King Keleos came, Tall n.o.ble damsels, as kings' daughters are, And, marking me a stranger, they drew from me A tale told so engagingly, that they Grew fain to find employment for my skill; --As men devise in mutual recompense, 760 Hoping the main advantage for themselves;-- And so they bad me follow, and I enter'd The palace of King Keleos, and received There on my knees the youngest of the house, A babe, to nurse him as a mother would: And in that menial service I was proud To outrun duty and trust: and there I liv'd Disguised among the maidens many months.

CH. Often as have our guesses aim'd, dear Lady, Where thou didst hide thyself, oft as we wonder'd 770 What chosen work was thine, none ever thought That thou didst deign to tend a mortal babe.

DEM. What life I led shall be for men to tell.

But for this babe, the nursling of my sorrow, Whose peevish cry was my consoling care, How much I came to love him ye shall hear.

CH. What was he named, Lady?

DEM. Demophoon.

Yea, ye shall hear how much I came to love him.

For in his small epitome I read The trouble of mankind; in him I saw 780 The hero's helplessness, the countless perils In ambush of life's promise, the desire Blind and instinctive, and the will perverse.

His petty needs were man's necessities; In him I nurst all mortal natur', embrac'd With whole affection to my breast, and lull'd Wailing humanity upon my knee.

CH. We see thou wilt not now destroy mankind.

DEM. What I coud do to save man was my thought.

And, since my love was center'd in the boy, 790 My thought was first for him, to rescue him; That, thro' my providence, he ne'er should know Suffering, nor disease, nor fear of death.

Therefore I fed him on immortal food, And should have gain'd my wish, so well he throve, But by ill-chance it hapt, once, as I held him Bathed in the fire at midnight (as was my wont),-- His mother stole upon us, and ascare At the strange sight, screaming in loud dismay Compel'd me to unmask, and leave for ever 800 The halls of Keleos, and my work undone.

CH. 'Twas pity that she came!--Didst thou not grieve to lose The small Demophoon?--Coudst thou not save him?

DEM. I had been blinded. Think ye for yourselves ...

What vantage were it to mankind at large That one should be immortal,--if all beside Must die and suffer misery as before?

CH. Nay, truly. And great envy borne to one So favour'd might have more embitter'd all.

DEM. I had been foolish. My sojourn with men 810 Had warpt my mind with mortal tenderness.

So, questioning myself what real gift I might bestow on man to help his state, I saw that sorrow was his life-companion, To be embrac't bravely, not weakly shun'd: That as by toil man winneth happiness, Thro' tribulation he must come to peace.

How to make sorrow his friend then,--this my task.

Here was a mystery ... and how persuade This th.o.r.n.y truth?... Ye do not hearken me. 820

CH. Yea, honour'd G.o.ddess, yea, we hearken still: Stint not thy tale.

DEM. Ye might not understand.

My tale to you must be a tale of deeds-- How first I bade King Keleos build for me A temple in Eleusis, and ordain'd My wors.h.i.+p, and the mysteries of my thought; Where in the sorrow that I underwent Man's state is pattern'd; and in picture shewn The way of his salvation.... Now with me --Here is a matter grateful to your ears-- 830 Your lov'd Persephone hath equal honour, And in the spring her festival of flowers: And if she should return ... [_Listening._ Ah! hark! what hear I?

CH. We hear no sound.

DEM. Hush ye! Hermes: he comes.

CH. What hearest thou?

DEM. Hermes; and not alone.

She is there. 'Tis she: I have won.

CH. Where? where?

DEM. (_aside_). Ah! can it be that out of sorrow's night, From tears, from yearning pain, from long despair, Into joy's sunlight I shall come again?-- Aside! stand ye aside! 840

_Enter Hermes leading Persephone._