A STREET. IT IS NIGHT.
SCENE I.
JUAN PAUL, dressed ridiculously as a soldier, and LUIS ENIUS, very pensive.
PAUL. Yes, the day would come I knew,
After long procrastination,
When a word of explanation
I should ask to have with you.
"Come with me," you said. Though dark,
Off I trudged with heavy heart
To point out to you the part
Where at morn you could embark;
Then again, with thundering voice,
Thus you spoke, "Where I must fly
Choose to come with me, or die."
And, since you allowed a choice,
Of two ills I chose the worst,
Which, sir, was to go with you.
As your shadow then I flew
'Cross the sea to England first,
Then to Scotland, then to France
then to Italy and Spain,
Round the world and back again,
As in some fantastic dance.
Not a country great or small
Could escape you, 'till, good lack!
Here we are in Ireland back:--
Now, sir, I, plain Juan Paul,
Being perplexed to know what draws
You here now, with beard and hair
Grown so long, your speech, your air,
Changed so much, would ask the cause
Why you these disguises wear?
You by day ne'er leave the inn,
But when cold night doth begin
You a thousand follies dare,
Without bearing this in mind,
That we now are in a land
Wholly changed from strand to strand,
Where, in fact, we nothing find
As we left it. The old king
Died despairing, and his heir,
Lesbia, now the crown doth wear,
For her sister, hapless thing!
Poor Polonia . . . .
LUIS. Oh, that name
Do not mention! do not kill me
By repeating what doth thrill me
To the centre of my frame
As with lightning. Yes, I know
That at length Polonia died.
PAUL. Yes; our host was at her side
(He himself has told me so)
When they found her dead, and . . . .
LUIS. Cease!
Of her death, oh! speak no more,
'Tis sufficient to deplore,
And to pray that she's at peace.
PAUL. Leaving heathen sin and crime,
All the people far and near
Are become good Christians here.
For one Patrick, who some time
Now is dead . . . .
LUIS. Is Patrick dead?
PAUL. So I from our host have heard.
LUIS [aside]. Badly have I kept my word!--
But proceed.
PAUL. The teaching spread
Of the faith of Christ, and gave,
As a proof complete and whole
Of the eternity of the soul,
The discovery of a cave.--
Oh! it's the very name doth send
Terror through me.
LUIS. Yes, I have heard
Of that cave, and every word
Made my hair to stand on end.
Those who in the neighbourhood
Dwell, see wonders every day.
PAUL. Since, 'mid terror and dismay,
In your melancholy mood
You will no one hear or see,
Ever locked within your room,
It is plain you have not come
Aught to learn, how strange they be,
Of these things. It doth appear
Other work you are about.
Satisfy my foolish doubt,
And say why we have come here.
LUIS. to your questions thus I yield:
Yes, I forced you, as you mention,
From your house, and my intention
Was to kill you in the field;
But I thought it best instead
You to make my steps attend
As my comrade and my friend,
Shaking off the mortal dread
Which forbad me to endure
Any stranger, and in fine,
That your arms being joined with mine,
I might feel the more secure.
Many a land, both far and near,
Passing through you fared right well;
And now answering I will tell
Why it is that we come here.
And 'tis this: I come to slay
Here a man who did me wrong,
'Tis for this I pass along,
Muffled in this curious way,
Hiding country, dress, and name;
And the night suits best for me,
For my powerful enemy
Can the first position claim
In the land. Since I avow
Why I hither have been led,
Listen now how I have sped
In my project until now.
I three days ago was brought
To this city in disguise,
For two nights, beneath the skies,
I my enemy have sought
In his street and at his door;
Twice a muffled figure came
And disturbed me in my aim,
Twice he called and stalked before
Him I followed in the street;
But when I the figure neared,
Suddenly he disappeared
As if wings were on his feet.
I this third night have brought you,
That should this mysterious shape
Come again, he sha'nt escape,
Being caught between us two;
Who he is we then can see.
PAUL. Two? who are they?
LUIS. You and I.
PAUL. I'm not one.
LUIS. Not one? How? Why?
PAUL. No, sir, no. I cannot be
One, nor half a one. These stories
Faith! would frighten fifty Hectors;
What know I of Lady Spectres,
Or of Lord Don Purgatories?
All through life I've kept aloof
From the other world's affairs,
Shunning much superfluous cares;
But, my courage put to proof,
Bid me face a thousand men,
And if I don't cut and run
From the thousand, nay, from one,
Never trust to me again.
For I think it quite a case
Fit for Bedlam, if so high,
That a man would rather die,
Than just take a little race.
Such a trifle! Sir, to me
Life is precious; leave me here,
Where you'd find me, never fear.
LUIS. Here's the house; to-night I'll be,
Philip, your predestined fate.
Now we'll see if heaven pretends
To defend him, and defends.--
Watch here, you, beside the gate.
* * * * *
SCENE II.
A Muffled Figure. -- LUIS and PAUL.
PAUL. There's no need to watch, for hither
Some one comes.
LUIS. A lucky mortal
Am I, if the hour draws nigh
That will two revenges offer.
Since this night there then will be
Naught to interrupt my project,
Slaying first this muffled figure
And then Philip. Slow and solemn
Comes this man again. I know him
By his gait. But whence this horror
That comes o'er me as I see him,
This strange awe that chills, that shocks me?
THE FIGURE. Luis Enius!
LUIS. Sir, I've seen you
Here the last two nights; your object?
If you call me, wherefore fly thus?
If 'tis me you seek, why mock me
By retiring?
THE FIGURE. Follow me,
Then you'll know my name.
LUIS. I'm stopped here
In this street by a little business.--
To be quite alone imports me.--
Wherefore first by killing you
I'll be free to kill another
[He draws his sword, but merely cuts the air.
Draw, then, draw your sword or not,
Thus the needful path I shorten
To two acts of vengeance. Heavens!
I but strike the air, cut nothing,
Sever nothing else. Quick! Paul,
Stop him as he stalks off yonder,
Near to you.
PAUL. I'm bad at stopping.
LUIS. Then your footsteps I will follow
Everywhere, until I learn
Who you are. [Aside.] (In vain his body
Do I strive to pierce. Oh, heavens!
Lightnings flash from off my sword here;
But in no way can I touch him,
As if sword and arm were shortened.)
[Exit following the figure, striking at it without touching it.
* * * * *
SCENE III.
PHILIP. -- PAUL.
PAUL [aside]. God be with you both! But scarce
Has one vanished, when another
Comes to haunt me. Why, I'm tempted
By strange phantoms and hobgoblins
Like another San Antonio:--
In this doorway I'll ensconce me,
Till my friend here kindly passes.
PHILIP. Love, ambitious, bold, deep-plotted,
With the favours of a kingdom
Me thou mak'st a prosperous lover.
To the desert fled Polonia,
Where, mid savage rocks and forests,
Citizen of mighty mountains,
Islander of lonely grottoes,
She doth dwell, to Lesbia leaving
Crown and kingdom; through a stronger
Greed than love I Lesbia court,--
For a queen is worth my homage.
From her trellis I have come,
From a sweet and pleasant converse.
But, what's this? Each night I stumble
On a man here at my doorstep.
Who is there?
PAUL [aside]. To me he's coming.
Why on earth should every goblin
Pounce on me?
PHILIP. Sir, Caballero.
PAUL. These are names I don't acknowledge;
He can't speak to ME.
PHILIP. This house
Is my home.
PAUL. Which I don't covet;
May you for an age enjoy it,
Without billets.
PHILIP. If important
Business in this street detains you
(Not a word whereon I offer),
Give me room that I may pass.
PAUL [aside]. Somewhat timid, though quite proper,
Goblins can be cowards too.--
Yes, sir, for a certain office
I am here; go in, and welcome;
I no gentleman would stop here
Bound for bed, nor is it right.
PHILIP. The condition I acknowledge.--
[Aside.
Well, fine spectres, to be sure,
Haunt this street: each night I notice
That a man here comes before me,
But when I approach him softly,
Hereabouts on my own threshold,
I, as now, have always lost him.
But what matters this to me?
[Exit.
[PAUL draws his sword and makes several flourishes.
PAUL. As he's gone, the right and proper
Thing is this:-- Stay, stay, cold shadow,
Whether you're a ghost or ghostess,
I can't reach it. Why, by heaven!
Air alone I cut and chop here.
But if this is he we wait for
In the night-time like two blockheads
Faith! he is a lucky fellow
To have got to bed so promptly.
But another noise I hear
Sounding from that dark street yonder.
'Tis of swords and angry voices:--
There I run to reconnoitre.
[Exit.
* * * * *
SCENE IV.
ANOTHER STREET.
The Muffled Figure and LUIS.
LUIS. Sir, already we have issued
From that street; if aught there stopped us,
We are here alone, and may
Hand to hand resume the combat.
And since powerless is my sword
Thee to wound, I throw me on thee
To know who thou art. Declare,
Art thou demon, man, or monster?
What! no answer? Then I thus
Dare myself to solve the problem,
[He tears the cloak from the Figure, and finds beneath it a skeleton.
And find out . . . . Oh, save me, heaven!
God! what's this I see? what horrid
Spectacle! What frightful vision!
What death-threatening fearful portent!
Stiff and stony corse, who art thou?
That of dust and ashes formed
Now dost live?
THE FIGURE. Not know thyself?
This is thy most faithful portrait;
I, alas! am Luis Enius.
[Disappears.
* * * * *
SCENE V.
PAUL. -- LUIS.
PAUL. It is the voice
Of my master. Succour cometh
Opportunely now in me.
Sir!
LUIS. Ah! why return, dread monster?
I am overwhelmed, I faint here
At your voice.
PAUL [aside]. God help his noddle!
He's gone mad! -- Dread monster? No,
[Aloud.
I am Juan Paul, that donkey
Who, not knowing why or wherefore,
Is your servant.
LUIS. Ah! good, honest
Paul, I knew you not, so frightened
Am I. But at that why wonder,
If myself I do not know?
Did you see a fearful corse here,
A dead body with a soul,
An apparent man supported
By his skeleton alone,
Bones from which the flesh had rotted,
Fingers rigid, gaunt, and cold,
Naked trunk, uncouth, abhorrent,
Vacant spaces whence the eyes,
Having fallen, left bare the sockets?--
Whither has he gone?
PAUL. If I
Saw that ghost, upon my honour,
I could never say I saw it;
For more dead than that dead body
I had fallen on the other side
At the moment.
LUIS. And no wonder;
For my voice was mute, my breath
Choked, my heart's warm beat forgotten,
Clothed with ice were all my senses,
Shod with lead my feet, my forehead
Cold with sweat, I saw suspended
Heaven's two mighty poles upon me,
The brief Atlases sustaining
Such a burden being my shoulders.
It appeared as if there started
Rocks from every tender blossom,
Giants from each opening rose;
For the earth's disrupted hollows
Wished from out their graves to cast
Forth the dead who lay there rotten;
Ah, among them I beheld
Luis Enius! Heaven be softened!
Hide me, hide me, from myself!
Bury me in some deep corner
Of earth's centre! Let me never
See myself, since no self-knowledge
Have I had! But now I have it;
Now I know I am that monster
Of rebellion, who defied,
In my madness, pride, and folly,
God Himself; the same, whose crimes
Are so numerous and so horrid,
That it were slight punishment,
If the whole wrath of the Godhead
Was outpoured on me, and whilst
God was God, eternal torments
I should have to bear in hell.
But I have this further knowledge,
They were done against a God
So divine, that He has promised
To grant pardon, if my sins
I with penitent tears acknowledge.
Such I shed; and, Lord, to prove
That to-day to be another
I begin, being born anew,
To Thy hands my soul I offer.
Not as a strict judge then judge me,
For the attributes of the Godhead
Are His justice and His mercy;
With the latter, not the former,
Judge me, then, and fix what penance
I shall do to gain that object.
What will be the satisfaction
Of my life?
[Music (within). The Purgatory.
LUIS. Bless me, heaven! what's this I hear?
A sweet strain divine and solemn;
It appears a revelation
From on high, since heaven doth often
Help mysteriously the sinner.
And since I herein acknowledge
A divine interposition,
I will go into the Purgatory,
Called, of Patrick, and fulfil,
Humbly, faithfully, the promise
Which I gave him long ago,
If it is my happy fortune
To see Patrick. If the attempt
Is, as rumour hath informed me,
Most terrific, since no human
Strength avails against the horrors
Of the place, or resolution
To endure the demons' torments,
Still my sins I must remember
Were as dreadful. Skilful doctors
Give for dangerous diseases
Dangerous remedies to stop them.--
Come, then, with me, Paul, and see
How here penitent and prostrate
At the bishop's feet I'll kneel,
And confess, for greater wonder,
All my awful sins aloud.
PAUL. Go alone, then, for that project,
Since so brave a man as you are
Has no need of an accomplice;
And there's no one I have heard of
Who e'er went to hell escorted
By his servant. I'll go home,
And live pleasantly in my cottage
Without care. If ghosts there be,
I'm content with matrimony.
[Exit.
LUIS. Public were my sins, and so
Public penance I will offer
In atonement. Like one crazed,
Crying in the crowded cross-ways,
I'll confess aloud my crimes.
Men, wild beasts, rude mountains, forests,
Globes celestial, flinty rocks,
Tender plants, dry elms, thick coppice,
Know that I am Luis Enius,
Tremble at my name, that monster
Once of pride, as now I am
Of humility the wonder.
I have faith and certain hope
Of great happiness before me,
If in God's great name shall Patrick
Aid me in the Purgatory.
[Exit.
* * * * *
SCENE VI.
A WOOD, IN THE CENTRE OF WHICH IS SEEN A MOUNTAIN, FROM WHICH POLONIA DESCENDS.
POLONIA.
POLONIA. To Thee, O Lord, my spirit climbs,
To Thee from every lonely hill
I burn to sacrifice my will
A thousand and a thousand times.
And such my boundless love to Thee
I wish each will of mine a living soul could be.
Would that my love I could have shown,
By leaving for Thy sake, instead
Of that poor crown that press'd my head,
Some proud, imperial crown and throne --
Some empire which the sun surveys
Through all its daily course and gilds with constant rays.
This lowly grot, 'neath rocks uphurled,
In which I dwell, though poor and small,
A spur of that stupendous wall,
The eighth great wonder of the world,
Doth in its little space excel
The grandest palace where a king doth dwell.
Far better on some natural lawn
To see the morn its gems bestrew,
Or watch it weeping pearls of dew
Within the white arms of the dawn;
Or view, before the sun, the stars
Drive o'er the brightening plain their swiftly-fading cars.
Far better in the mighty main,
As night comes on, and clouds grow grey,
To see the golden coach of day
Drive down amid the waves of Spain.
But be it dark, or be it bright,
O Lord! I praise Thy name by day and night.
Than to endure the inner strife,
The specious glare, but real weight
Of pomp, and power, and pride, and state,
And all the vanities of life;
How would we shudder could we deem
That life itself, in truth, is but a fleeting dream.
* * * * *
SCENE VII.
LUIS. -- POLONIA.
LUIS [aside]. True to my purpose on I go,
With footsteps firm and bosom brave,
Seeking for that mysterious cave
Wherein the pitying heavens will show
How I salvation there may gain,
By bearing in this life the Purgatorial pain.
[To POLONIA.
Tell me, O holy woman! thou
Who in these wilds a home hast found,
A dweller in this mountain ground
Obedient to some sacred vow,
Which is the road to Patrick's cave,
Where penitential man his soul in life may save?
POLONIA. O, happy traveller! who here
Hast come so far in storm and shine,
Within this treasury divine
To feel and find salvation near,
Well can I guide thee on thy way,
Since 'tis for this alone amid these wilds I stray.
Seest thou this mountain?
LUIS. Ah! I see
My death in it.
POLONIA [aside]. My heart grows cold.
Ah! who is this that I behold?
LUIS [aside]. I cannot think it. Is it she?
POLONIA [aside]. 'Tis Luis, now I know.
LUIS [aside]. Perhaps illusion it may be
To baffle my intent, and lead
My erring feet astray. -- [to POLONIA}. Proceed.
POLONIA [aside]. Say, can it be to conquer me
The common enemy doth send
This spectre here?
LUIS. You do not speak.
POLONIA. Attend.
This mighty mountain, rock bestrown,
Full well the dreaded secret knows;
But no one to its centre goes
By any path o'er land alone:
He who would see this wondrous cave
Must in a bark put forth and tempt the lake's dark wave.
[Aside.] I struggle with a wish to wreak
Revenge, which pity doth subdue.
LUIS [aside]. It doth my happiness renew
Once more to see and hear her speak.
POLONIA [aside]. Within me opposite thoughts contend.
LUIS [aside]. Ah, me! I die. -- You do not speak.
POLONIA. Attend.
This darksome lake doth all surround
The lofty mountain's rugged base,
And so to reach the awful place
An easy passage may be found:
A sacred convent in the island stands,
Midway between the mountain and the sands.
Some pious priests inhabit there,
And for this task alone they live,
With loving zeal to freely give
The helping hand, the strengthening prayer --
Confession, and the Holy Mass,
And every needful help to all who thither pass.
Telling them what they first must do,
Before they dare presume to go,
Alive, within the realm of woe.--
[Aside.] Let not this enemy subdue
My soul, O Lord!
LUIS [aside]. My hopes are fair.
Let me not feel, O Lord! the anguish of despair,
Seeing before my startled sight
My greatest, deepest crime arise;
Let not the fiend my soul that tries,
Subdue me in this dreadful fight.
POLONIA [aside]. 'Gainst what a powerful foe must I defend
Myself to-day!
LUIS. You do not speak.
POLONIA. Attend.
LUIS. With quicker speed your story tell,
For well I know my soul hath need
That I should go with swifter speed!
POLONIA. And me it doth import as well
That you should go away.
LUIS. Agreed.
Now, woman, point the way to where my path doth lead.
POLONIA. No one accompanied can brave
The terrors of this gloomy lake;
And so a skiff you needs must take,
And try alone the icy wave;
Being in that most trying strait
The absolute master of your acts and fate.
Come where within a secret cave
Beside the shore the boat doth lie,
And trusting in the Lord on high,
Embark upon the crystal wave
Of this remote lone inland sea.
LUIS. My life and all I have I place, O Lord! in Thee.
And so I trust me to the bark;
But, O my soul! what sight is here,
A coffin doth the bark appear;
And I upon the waters dark
Alone must cross the icy tide.
[He enters.
POLONIA. Oh! turn not back, but follow and confide
LUIS [within]. I've conquered! sweet Polonia's shade,
Since sight of thee has not undone
My shuddering soul.
POLONIA. And I have won,
Here in this Babylon delayed,
O'er wrath and rage the victory.
LUIS [within]. Thy feigned resemblance does not frighten me,
Though thou dost take a form
Might tempt my steps astray
And make me turn despairing from my way.
POLONIA. Thy fear doth badly thee inform,
Poor to be brave and rich to be afraid,
For I Polonia am, and not her shade,
The same that thou didst slay,
But who by God's decree
Restored to life, even in this misery,
Is happier far to-day.
LUIS [within]. Since I my sinful state
Confess, and feel too well its fearful weight,
Thy wrong, oh, pardon too!
POLONIA. I give it, and approve of thy design.
LUIS [within]. My faith, at least, I never will resign.
POLONIA. That grace will be thy safeguard.
LUIS [within]. Then, adieu!
POLONIA. Adieu!
LUIS [within]. May God in pity save.
POLONIA. And bring thee back victorious from the cave.
* * * * *
SCENE VIII.
THE ENTRANCE OF A CONVENT -- AT THE END THE CAVE OF PATRICK.
Two Canons Regular; afterwards Luis.
FIRST CANON. See, the waters of the lake
Move although no breeze doth blow:
Without doubt to-day some pilgrim
Roweth to this island shore.
SECOND CANON. Come unto the strand to see
Who can be so brave and bold
As to seek our gloomy dwelling,
Crossing the dark waters o'er.
[Enter LUIS.
LUIS. Here my boat, my coffin, rather,
On the billows I bestow.
Who his sepulchre has ever
Steered, as I, through fire and snow?
What a pleasant spot is this!
Here has Spring, methinks, invoked
Flowers of high and low degree
To assemble at her court.
But this dismal mountain here,
How unlike the plain below!
Yet they are the better friends
By the contrasts that they show.
there the mournful birds of prey
Hoarsely croak, presaging woe,
Here the warblers in their joy
Charm us with their tuneful notes.
There the torrents leaping headlong
Fright us with their frenzied roar,
Here the crystal streamlets gliding
Mirror back the sun's bright gold.
Half way 'twixt that ugliness
And this beauty, I behold
A plain building whose grave front
Fear and love at once provokes.
FIRST CANON. Happy wanderer, who here
Hast arrived with heart so bold,
Come unto my arms.
LUIS. The ground
That you tread on suits me more.
Oh, for charity conduct me
To the Prior of your fold,
To the Abbot of this convent.
FIRST CANON. Though unworthy, you behold
Him in me. Speak. What's your wish?
LUIS. Father, if my name I told,
I'm afraid that swiftly flying,
With a terror uncontrolled,
You would leave me: for my works
Are so shocking to unfold,
That to see them not, the sun
Wraps him round in mourning robes.
I am an abyss of crimes,
A wild sea that has no shore;
I am a broad map of guilt,
And the greatest sinner known.
Yes, in me, to tell it briefly
In one comprehensive word
(Here my breath doth almost fail me),
Luis Enius behold!
I come here this cave to enter,
If for sins so manifold
Aught can ever satisfy,
Let my penance thus atone
To the Bishop of Hibernia
I've confessed, and am absolved,
Who informed of my intention
With a gracious love consoled
All my fears, and unto thee
Sent these letters I unfold.
FIRST CANON. Do not in a single day
Take, my son, a step so bold,
For these things require precaution
More than can at once be told.
Stay here as our guest some days,
Then at leisure we can both
See about it and decide.
LUIS. No, my father, no, oh, no!
Never from the ground I'll rise,
Where here prostrate I am thrown,
Till you grant to me this good.
It was God that touched my soul,
And inspired me to come here;
Not a vain desire to know,
Not ambition to find out
Secrets God, perchance, withholds.
Do not baffle this intention,
For the call is heaven's alone.
Oh, my father! yield in pity,
With me in my griefs condole,
Give my sorrows consolation,
Heal the anguish of my soul.
FIRST CANON. Luis, you have not considered
what you ask of me; you know
Nothing of the infernal torments
You must bear: to undergo
These your strength is insufficient.
Many are there, more the woe!
Who go in, but few, alas!
Who return.
LUIS. Your threats forebode
Much; but still they fright not me;
For I do protest, I go
But to purge away my sins,
Which if numbered are much more
Than the atoms of the sun
And the sands upon the shore.
I will ever have my hope
Firmly fixed upon the Lord,
At whose holy name even hell
Is subdued.
FIRST CANON. The fervid glow
Of your words compels me now
To unlock the awful doors.
Luis, you behold the cave:
See!
[He opens the mouth of the cave.
LUIS. Oh, save me, gracious God!
FIRST CANON. What! dismayed?
LUIS. No, not dismayed;
Still it scared me to behold.
FIRST CANON. I admonish you again,
For no lesser cause to go,
Than a firm belief that there
For your sins you may atone.
LUIS. Father, I am in the cave:
Listen to my voice once more,
Men and wild beasts, skies and mountains,
Day and night, and sun and moon,
To you all I here protest,
Ay, a thousand times make known,
That I enter here to suffer
Torments for my sins untold;
For so great, so dread a penance
Is but little to atone
For such sins as mine, believing
That the cave salvation holds.
FIRST CANON. Enter then, and in your mouth,
As within your heart's deep core,
Be the name of Jesus.
LUIS. Be
With me, Lord, O gracious Lord,
For here, armed but with Thy faith,
I am pitted 'gainst my foe
In the open field. That name
Will my enemy o'erthrow.
Crossing myself many times
I advance. Oh, save me, God!
[He enters the cave which they close.
FIRST CANON. Of the many who have entered
None has equal courage shown.
Oh, enable him, just Jesus,
To resist the demon host
And their wiles, relying ever
Upon Thee, divinest Lord.
[Exeunt.
* * * * *
SCENE IX.
LESBIA, PHILIP, LEOGAIRE, The Captain, and POLONIA.
LESBIA. Before we reach the place,
Whither you wish to lead us, for a space
Let us say why we came
To see you here to-day: a definite aim
All of us here has brought.
POLONIA. Speak as we go whatever be your thought,
Still following where I lead,
For I a sight that doth all sights exceed
Will bring you here to see.
LESBIA. What, then, our wishes were you hear from me.
Polonia, you desired
In this wild mountain waste to live retired,
Making of me the heir,
While living, of your kingdom. I would share
With you in turn my plans, however small,
And so I hither come to tell you all.
My will is in your hands;
I ask not counsel, sister, but commands.
A single woman scarce can ever be
Strong through advice, and of necessity
She must be married.
POLONIA. Yes; and if your choice
Has fallen on Philip I may well rejoice,
For then to me you'll owe
Both crown and husband.
PHILIP. May you live whilst glow
The sun's bright beams, that orb which dies at night,
And Phoenix of its rays is born with morning's light.
POLONIA. Then since you thus have gained
Your wish, ye two, now free and unconstrained,
Listen to what I tell,
And all who hear me listen too, as well.
With all the outward show
Of fervour came a man, whom we all know,
Seeking for Patrick's cave,
To enter there, and so his soul to save.
He entered it, and cometh forth today,
And 'tis because my terror and dismay
Are balanced by my wonder, that with me
I bring you to behold this holy prodigy.
I do not tell you who he is lest fear
Should so my heart make craven, that I ne'er
Could reach the end I sought:--
'Tis for this object that you here are brought.
LESBIA. It is but only right
That I should mingle terror with delight.
POLONIA. If strength from him hath fled,
And he extended in the cave lies dead,
At least 'twill show
His punishment; and if he comes, we'll know
The mystery that is here;
If safe he comes, who cometh forth, through fear
Perchance he may not speak,
But, flying men, some solitude may seek
To live and die alone.
LEOGAIRE. What mighty mysteries lie here unknown.
CAPTAIN. The time is opportune that we come here,
For the religious whom we see draw near,
All bathed in tears, now go
To the cave's mouth in solemn, silent row
To throw the gates aside.
* * * * *
SCENE X.
The procession advances to the cave; the gates are opened by the
Prior and his assistants. LUIS ENIUS comes forth, astonished.-- THE
SAME.
PRIOR. And those of heaven, O Lord, keep open wide
To penitent tears and sighs.
May this poor sinner from these dungeons rise,
This dark and dismal place,
Where never shines the radiance of Thy face.
POLONIA. The gate is opened.
PRIOR. Oh, what happiness!
PHILIP. 'Tis Luis!
LUIS. Bless me, heaven! in pity bless!
Ah! is it possible that I am here
Again on earth after so many a year,
And that once more I see
The light of the sun?
CAPTAIN. How rapt!
LEOGAIRE. How dazed is he!
PRIOR. Embrace us all, my son.
LUIS. My arms were prison chains to every one.
Polonia, since thou'rt here,
Thy pity I may claim without a fear.
And thou, O Philip, know
That thrice an angel saved thee from the blow
Of my sharp sword: two nights I watched for thee
To slay thee; may my error pardoned be.
Now flying from myself, oh, let me hide,
And in some wilderness abide --
Far from the world in solitude and pain,
For he who saw what I have seen would feign,
So suffering live, so die.
PRIOR. Then on the part of God, O Enius! I
Command thee what thou hast seen at once to say.
LUIS. So sacred a command I must obey:--
And that the startled world may now begin
A better course, and man from mortal sin
My words may waken like some midnight wail,
Listen, O grave assembly to my tale.
After all the preparations,
Fit and solemn were effected,
Which in such a perilous case
Might be needed and expected,
And when I from all around me,
Firm in faith, with courage strengthened,
Tenderly farewell had taken
This dark cavern here to enter,
I my trust reposed in God,
And my lips repeating ever
Those mysterious, mystic words,
At which even the demons tremble,
I then placed me on the threshold,
Where, until, as I expected,
They would close the gate, I stood.
It was closed, and I remember
Then I found me in black night,
Whence the light was so ejected,
That I closed on it mine eyes.
(A strange way it seems, but certain
To see better in the dark.)
With my lids thus closed together
On I went, and felt a wall
Which in front of me extended;
And by following it, and groping
For about the length of twenty
Paces, came upon some rocks,
And perceived through a small crevice
Of this rugged mountain wall
That a doubtful glimmer entered
Of a light that was not light,
As when the day the dark disperses,
If 'tis morning, or not morning,
Oft the twilight is uncertain.
With light steps a path pursuing,
By the left-hand side I entered,
When I felt a strange commotion;
The firm earth began to tremble,
And upheaving 'neath my feet,
Ruin and convulsion threatened.
Stupified I stopped there, when
With a voice which woke my senses
From forgetfulness and fainting,
Loud a thunder-clap re-echoed,
And the ground on which I stood
Bursting open in the centre,
It appeared as if I fell
To a depth where I lay buried
In the loosened stones and earth
Which had after me descended.
Then I found me in a hall
Built of jasper, where the presence
Of the chisel was made known
By its ornate architecture.
Through a door of bronze twelve men
Then advanced and came directly
Where I stood, who, clothed alike
In unspotted snow-white dresses,
With a courteous air received me,
And too humbly did me reverence.
One, who seemed to be among them
The superior, said: "Remember
That in God you place your faith,
And that you be not dejected
In your battle with the demons;
For if moved by what they threaten,
Or may promise, you turn back,
You will have to dwell for ever
In the lowest depths of hell
Amid torments most excessive."
Angels were these men for me,
And so greatly was I strengthened
By their counsel and advice
That revived I once more felt me.
On a sudden then the whole
Hall unto mine eyes presented
Nothing but infernal visions,
Fallen angels, the first rebels,
And in forms so horrible,
So disgusting, that resemblance
It would be in vain to look for;
And one said to me: "Demented
Reckless fool, who here hast wished
Prematurely to present thee
To thy destined punishment,
And the pains that thou deservest;
If thy sins are so immense,
That thyself must needs condemn them,
Since thou in the eye of God
Never can have hope of mercy,
Why has thou come here thyself
To endure them? Back to earth, then,
Go, oh! go, and end thy life;
And as thou hast lived, so perish.
Then again thou'lt come to see us;
For hath hell prepared already
That dread seat in which thou must
Sit for ever and for ever."--
I did answer not a word;
And then giving me some heavy
Blows, my hands and feet they bound,
Tieing them with thongs together,
And then caught and wounded me
With sharp hooks of burning metal,
Dragging me through all the cloisters,
Where they lit a fire and left me
Headlong plunged amid the flames.
I but cried, "O Jesus! help me."
At the words the demons fled,
And the fire went out and ended
Then they brought me to a plain
Where the blackened earth presented
Fruits of thistles and of thorns,
'Stead of pink and rose sweet scented.
Here a biting wind passed by,
Which with subtle sharpness entered
Even my bones, whose faintest breath
Like the keenest sword-edge cleft me.
Here in the profoundest depths
Sadly, mournfully lamented
Myriad souls, their parents cursing
From whose loins they had descended.
Such despairing shrieks and cries,
Such blaspheming screams were blended,
Such atrocious oaths and curses
So repeated and incessant,
That the very demons shuddered.
I passed on, and in a meadow
Found me next, whose plants and grasses
Were all flames, which waved and bent them,
As when in the burning August
Wave the gold ears all together.
So immense it was, the sight
Never could make out where ended
This red field, and in it lay
An uncountable assemblage
All recumbent in the fire;
Through their bodies and their members
Burning spikes and nails were driven;
These with feet and hands extended
Were held nailed upon the ground,
Vipers of red fire the entrails
Gnawed of some; while others lying,
With their teeth in maniac frenzy
Bit the earth; and some there were
Piecemeal who themselves dismembered,
And who seemed to die, but only
To revive and die for ever.
There the ministers of death
Flung me from them bound and helpless,
But at the sweet name of Jesus
All their fury fled and left me.
I passed on, and found me where
Some were cured, by a strange method,
Of their cruel wounds and torments;
Lead and burning pitch were melted,
And being poured upon their sores
Made a cautery most dreadful.
Who that hears me will not mourn?
Who that hears this awful lesson
Will not sigh and will not weep,
Will not fear and will not tremble?
Then I saw a certain building,
Out of which bright rays extended
From the windows and the doors,
As when conflagration settles
On a house, the flame bursts forth
Where an opening is presented.
"This," they told me, "is the villa
Of delights, the bath of pleasures,
The abode of the luxurious,
Where are punished all those women
Who were in the other life,
From frivolity excessive,
Too much given to scented waters,
Unguents, rouges, baths, and perfumes."--
I went in, and there beheld,
In a tank of cold snow melted,
Many lovely women bathing,
With an upturned look of terror;
Underneath the water they
Were the prey of snakes and serpents,
For the fishes and the sirens
Of this sea they represented;
In the clear transparent crystal
Stiff and frozen were their members,
Icy hard their hair was lifted,
Chattering struck their teeth together.
Passing out, the demons brought me
To a mountain so tremendous
In its height, that as it rose
Through the sky its peak dissevered,
If it did not tear and rend,
The vast azure veil celestial;
In the middle of this peak
A volcano stood, which, belching
Flames, appeared as if to spit them
In the very face of heaven.
From this burning cone, this crater,
Fire at intervals ascended
In which issued many souls,
Who again its womb re-entered,
Oft repeating and renewing
This ascending and descending.
At this time a scorching wind
Caught me when I least expected,
Blowing me from where I stood,
So that instantly it set me
In the depths of that abyss.
I too was shot up: a second
Wind-gust came, that with it brought
Myriad legions, who impelled me
Rudely to another part,
Where it seemed I saw assembled
All the other souls I had seen,
But who here were all collected;
And though this was the abode
Where the pains were most excessive,
I remarked that all therein
Faces bore of glad expression,
Countenances calm and sweet,
No impatience in their gestures
Or their words; but with their eyes
Fixed on heaven, as if thus set there
To ask mercy, ever weeping
Tears of tenderness and penance.
That it was the Purgatory
I at once by this detected,
Where the happy souls are purged from
Their more venial offences.
I was not subdued even here,
Though the demons stormed and threatened
Me the more: I rather felt
By the sight renewed and strengthened.
Then they, seeing that they could not
Shake my constancy, presented
To my eyes their greatest torments,
That which is in an especial
Sense called hell; and so they brought me
To a river, all the herbage
Of whose banks was flowers of fire,
And whose stream was sulphur melted;
The dread monsters of its tide
Were the hydras and the serpents;
It was very wide, and o'er it
Was a narrow bridge suspended,
Which but seemed a line, no more,
And so delicate and slender
That in my opinion no one
Without breaking it could ever
Pass across. "Look here," they said,
"By this narrow way 'tis destined
Thou must cross; see thou the means.
And for thy o'erwhelming terror
See how those have fared who tried
Before thee." and then directly
I saw those who tried to pass
Fall into the stream, where serpents
Tore them in a thousand pieces
With their claws and teeth's sharp edges.
I invoked the name of God,
And could dare with it to venture
To the other side to pass,
Without yielding to the terror
Of the winds and of the waves,
Though they fearfully beset me.
Yes I passed, and in a wood,
So delightful and so fertile,
Found me, that in it I could,
After what had passed, refresh me.
On my way as I advanced,
Cedars, palms, their boughs extended,
Trees of paradise indeed,
As I may with strictness term them;
All the ground being covered over
With the rose and pink together
Formed a carpet, in whose hues
White and green and red were blended.
There the amorous song-birds sang
Tenderly their sweet distresses,
Keeping, with the thousand fountains
Of the streams, due time and measure.
Then upon my vision broke
A great city, proud and splendid,
Which had even the sun itself
For its towers' and turrets' endings;
All the gates were of pure gold,
Into which had been inserted
Exquisitely, diamonds, rubies,
Topaz, chrysolite, and emerald.
Ere I reached the gates they opened,
And the saints in long procession
Solemnly advanced to meet me,
Men and women, youths and elders,
Boys and girls and children came,
All so joyful and contented.
Then the seraphim and angels,
In a thousand choirs advancing,
To their golden instruments
Sang the symphonies of heaven;
After them at last approached
The most glorious and resplendent
Patrick, the great patriarch,
Who his gratulations telling
That I had fulfilled my word
Ere I died, as he expected,
He embraced me; all displaying
Joy and gladness in my welfare.
Thus encouraged he dismissed me,
Telling me no mortal ever,
While in life, that glorious city
Of the saints could hope to enter;
That once more unto the world
I should go my days to end there.
Finally my way retracing,
I came back, quite unmolested
By the dark infernal spirits,
And at last the gate of entrance
Having reached, you all came forward
To receive me and attend me.
And since I from so much danger
Have escaped, oh! deign to let me,
Pious fathers, here remain
Till my life is happily ended.
* * * * *
For with this the history closes,
As it is to us presented
By Dionysius the Carthusian,
With Henricus Salteriensis,
Matthew Paris, Ranulph Higden,
And Caesarius Heisterbacensis,
Marcus Marulus, Mombritius,
David Rothe, the prudent prelate,
And Vice-Primate of all Ireland,
Belarminus, Dimas Serpi,
Bede, Jacobus, and Solinus,
Messingham, and to express it
In a word, the Christian faith
And true piety that defend it.
For the play is ended where
Its applause, I hope, commences.
