The Purgatory of St. Patrick Part 7

PHILIP. Say, what?

LUIS. You've lied!

PHILIP. Villain! traitor [Strikes him in the face.

POLONIA. Oh, ye skies!

LUIS. For so many injuries Why not instant vengeance take, When volcanic fires awake In my breast, and h.e.l.l-flames rise?

[They draw their swords.

SCENE III.

EGERIUS and soldiers. -- THE SAME.

KING. What is this?

LUIS. A lasting woe, A misfortune, an abuse, A sharp pain, a fiend let loose From the infernal pit below.

Let no one presume to go 'Twixt me and revenge. Reflect, Fury breathes immortal breath, Vengeance has no fear of death, Nor for any man respect.

I my honour must protect.

KING. Seize him.

LUIS. Let the man who sighs For his death obey! You'll see How the boldest fares, for he, Even before your very eyes, Shall be slain.

KING. That this should rise!-- Follow him.

LUIS. In desperate mood, Plunging headlong in red blood, Like a sea both wide and deep, Thus courageously I leap, Seeking Philip through the flood.

[All enter fighting.

SCENE IV.

KING. I but wanted this alone After what I've heard, that he Who escaped from slavery, And to distant Rome had flown, Now with purpose too well known, Has to Ireland come again, Where proclaiming the new reign Of the faith, he has enticed Many to believe in Christ, Rending all the world in twain.

A magician he must be, Since condemned, so rumour saith, By some other kings to death, He though tied upon the tree In an instant set him free, With such prodigies of wonder That the earth (within whose womb The dead lie as in a tomb) Trembled, the air groaned in thunder, Dark eclipse the sun lay under, Deigning not a single glance Of his radiant countenance To the moon: from which I see That this Patrick, for 'tis he, Lords it over fate and chance; Awe-struck by the prodigy, Fearing they may punished be, Crowds attend him on his way.

And 'tis said that he to-day Comes to try his spells on me.

Let him come, and once for all Wave in vain his conjuring rod!

We shall see who is this G.o.d, Whom their G.o.d the Christians call.

By my hand must Patrick fall, Were it but to see if he Can escape his destiny, Or my will subvert and master, He this Bishop, he this Pastor, He Pope's Legate, though he be.

SCENE V.

The Captain, Soldiers, LUIS a prisoner, The King.

CAPTAIN. Luis, sire, without delay We secured; but not before He killed three, and wounded more, Of our company.

KING. Christian, say, Why do you no fear display, Seeing now in angry mood My hand raised to shed your blood?

But in vain do I deplore, Since he this deserves and more Who has done a Christian good.

Gifts, not chastis.e.m.e.nt, should be Thine to-day, for it is plain It is I should feel the pain For conferring good on thee.

Take him hence, and presently Let him die; and be it known Why from him has mercy flown.

'Tis not for his crimes or guilt That this Christian's blood is spilt, 'Tis for Christ's belief alone.

[Exeunt.

* SCENE VI.

LUIS.

LUIS. If for this I die, to me Thou the happiest death allottest, Since he for his G.o.d will die, He who dies to do Him honour.

And a man whose life is here But a round of cares and crosses, Should be grateful unto death As the end of all his sorrows; Since it comes the tangled thread Of a wretched life to shorten, Which to-day the evil Phoenix Of its works that now prove mortal Would revive amid the ashes Of my wrong and my dishonour.

Then my life, my breath were poison, Venom would my breast but foster, Until I had shed in Ireland Blood in such a copious torrent, That though base it might wash out The remembrance of my wronger.

Ah, my honour, low thou liest, By a ruthless foot down trodden!-- I will die with thee, united We two will together conquer These barbarians. Then since little, But a span at best, belongeth To my life, a n.o.ble vengeance Let this dagger take upon me!-- But, good G.o.d! what evil impulse With demoniac instinct prompteth Thus my hand? I am a Christian, I've a soul, and share the G.o.dly Light of faith: then were it right, 'Mid a crowd of Gentile mockers, Thus the Christian faith to tarnish By an action so improper?

What example would I give them By a death so sad and shocking, Save that I thus gave the lie To the works that Patrick worketh.

Since they'd say, who wors.h.i.+p only Their own vices most immodest, Who deny unto the soul Its eternal joy or torment, "Of what use is Patrick's preaching That man's soul must be immortal, If the Christian, Luis Enius, Kills himself? He can't acknowledge Its eternal life who'd lose it."-- Thus with actions so discordant, He the light and I the shadow, We would neutralize each other.

'Tis enough to be so wicked As even now to feel no sorrow, No repentance for past sins, Rather a desire for others.

Yes, by G.o.d! for if escape Fortune now my life would offer, Europe, Africa, and Asia I would fill with fear and horror; First exacting here the debt Of a vengeance so enormous, That these islands of Egerius Would not hold a single mortal Who should not appease the thirst, The insatiable longing That I have for blood. The lightning, When it bursts its prison portals, Warns us in a voice of thunder, And then 'twixt dark smoke and forked Fires that take the shape of serpents, Fills the trembling air with horror.

I, too, gave that thunder voice, So that all men heard the promise, But the lightning bolt was wanting.

Yes, ah me! it proved abortive, And before it touched the earth Was by dallying winds made sport of.

No, it is not death that grieves me, Even a death of such dishonour, 'Tis because at last are ended, In my youth's fresh opening blossom, My offences. Life I wish for To begin from this day forward Greater and more dread excesses.

Heavens! 'tis for no other object.

SCENE VII.

POLONIA. -- LUIS.

POLONIA [aside] (Now with mind made up I come.) Luis, an occasion offers Ever as the test and touchstone Of true love. By certain knowledge Have I learned the imminent danger Of thy life. The wrath grows hotter Of my father, and his fury To evade is most important.