Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 75

Each flower and fern in this enchanted wood Leans to her fellow, and is understood; The eglantine, in loftier station set, Stoops down to woo the maidly violet.

In gracile pairs the very lilies grow: None is companionless except Pierrot.

Music, more music! how its echoes steal Upon my senses with unlooked for weal.

Tired am I, tired, and far from this lone glade Seems mine old joy in rout and masquerade.

Sleep cometh over me, now will I prove, By Cupid's grace, what is this thing called love.

[_Sleeps._]

[_There is more music of lutes for an interval, during which a bright radiance, white and cold, streams from the temple upon the face of Pierrot. Presently a Moon Maiden steps out of the temple; she descends and stands over the sleeper._]

THE LADY.

Who is this mortal Who ventures to-night To woo an immortal?

Cold, cold the moon's light, For sleep at this portal, Bold lover of night.

Fair is the mortal In soft, silken white, Who seeks an immortal.

Ah, lover of night, Be warned at the portal, And save thee in flight!

[_She stoops over him; Pierrot stirs in his sleep._]

PIERROT [_murmuring_].

Forget not, Cupid. Teach me all thy lore: "_He loves to-night who never loved before._"

THE LADY.

Unwitting boy! when, be it soon or late, What Pierrot ever has escaped his fate?

What if I warned him! He might yet evade, Through the long windings of this verdant glade; Seek his companions in the blither way, Which, else, must be as lost as yesterday.

So might he still pa.s.s some unheeding hours In the sweet company of birds and flowers.

How fair he is, with red lips formed for joy, As softly curved as those of Venus' boy.

Methinks his eyes, beneath their silver sheaves, Rest tranquilly like lilies under leaves.

Arrayed in innocence, what touch of grace Reveals the scion of a courtly race?

Well, I will warn him, though, I fear, too late-- What Pierrot ever has escaped his fate?

But, see, he stirs, new knowledge fires his brain, And cupid's vision bids him wake again.

Dione's Daughter! but how fair he is, Would it be wrong to rouse him with a kiss?

[_She stoops down and kisses him, then withdraws into the shadow._]

PIERROT [_rubbing his eyes_].

Celestial messenger! remain, remain; Or, if a vision, visit me again!

What is this light, and whither am I come To sleep beneath the stars so far from home?

[_Rises slowly to his feet._]

Stay, I remember this is Venus' Grove, And I am hither come to encounter--

THE LADY [_coming forward, but veiled_].

Love!

PIERROT [_in ecstasy, throwing himself at her feet_].

Then have I ventured and encountered Love?

THE LADY.

Not yet, rash boy! and, if thou wouldst be wise, Return unknowing; he is safe who flies.

PIERROT.

Never, sweet lady, will I leave this place Until I see the wonder of thy face.

G.o.ddess or Naiad! lady of this Grove, Made mortal for a night to teach me love, Unveil thyself, although thy beauty be Too luminous for my mortality.

THE LADY [_unveiling_].

Then, foolish boy, receive at length thy will: Now knowest thou the greatness of thine ill.

PIERROT.

Now have I lost my heart, and gained my goal.

THE LADY.

Didst thou not read the warning on the scroll?

[_Picks up the parchment._]

PIERROT.

I read it all, as on this quest I fared, Save where it was illegible and hard.

THE LADY.

Alack! poor scholar, wast thou never taught A little knowledge serveth less than naught?

Hadst thou perused--but, stay, I will explain What was the writing which thou didst disdain.

[_Reads._]

"_Au Pet.i.t Trianon_, at night's full noon, Mortal, beware the kisses of the moon!

Whoso seeks her she gathers like a flower-- He gives a life, and only gains an hour."

PIERROT [_laughing recklessly_].

Bear me away to thine enchanted bower, All of my life I venture for an hour.

THE LADY.

Take up thy destiny of short delight; I am thy lady for a summer's night, Lift up your viols, maidens of my train, And work such havoc on this mortal's brain That for a moment he may touch and know Immortal things, and be full Pierrot, White music, Nymphs! Violet and Eglantine!

To stir his tired veins like magic wine, What visitants across his spirit glance, Lying on lilies, while he watch me dance?

Watch, and forget all weary things on earth, All memories and cares, all joy and mirth, While my dance woos him, light and rhythmical, And weaves his heart into my coronal.