A Drama of Early Christian Rome.
FROM THE SPANISH OF CALDERON.
PERSONS.
NUMERIANUS, Emperor of Rome.
POLEMIUS, Chief Senator.
CHRYSANTHUS, his son.
CLAUDIUS, cousin of Chrysanthus.
AURELIUS, a Roman general.
CARPOPHORUS, a venerable priest.
ESCARPIN, servant of Chrysanthus.
DARIA,
CYNTHIA,
NISIDA,
CHLORIS,
} Priestesses of Diana.
Two spirits.
Angels.
Soldiers, servants, people, music, etc.
SCENE: Rome and its environs.
SCENE I.--A Room in the house of Polemius at Rome.
Chrysanthus is seen seated near a writing table on which are several
books: he is reading a small volume with deep attention.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Ah! how shallow is my mind!
How confined! and how restricted!
Ah! how driftless are my words!
And my thoughts themselves how driftless!
Since I cannot comprehend,
Cannot pierce the secrets hidden
In this little book that I
Found by chance with others mingled.
I its meaning cannot reach,
Howsoe'er my mind I rivet,
Though to this, and this alone,
Many a day has now been given.
But I cannot therefore yield,
Must not own myself outwitted:--
No; a studious toil so great
Should not end in aught so little.
O'er this book my whole life long
Shall I brood until the riddle
Is made plain, or till some sage
Simplifies what here is written.
For which end I 'll read once more
Its beginning. How my instinct
Uses the same word with which
Even the book itself beginneth!--
"In the beginning was the Word" . .
If in language plain and simple
Word means speech, how then was it
In the beginning? Since a whisper
Presupposes power to breathe it,
Proves an earlier existence,
And to that anterior Power
Here the book doth not bear witness.
Then this follows: "And the Word
Was with God"--nay more, 't is written,
"And the Word was God: was with Him
In the beginning, and by HIM then
All created things were made
And without Him naught was finshed":--
Oh! what mysteries, what wonders,
In this tangled labyrinthine
Maze lie hid! which I so many
Years have studied, with such mingled
Aid from lore divine and human
Have in vain tried to unriddle!--
"In the beginning was the Word".--
Yes, but when was this beginning?
Was it when Jove, Neptune, Pluto
Shared the triple zones betwixt them,
When the one took to himself
Heaven supreme, one hell's abysses,
And the sea the third, to Ceres
Leaving earth, the ever-wing`ed
Time to Saturn, fire to Phoebus,
And the air to Jove's great sister?--
No, it could not have been then,
For the fact of their partition
Shows that heaven and earth then were,
Shows that sea and land existed:--
The beginning then must be
Something more remote and distant:
He who has expressly said
'The beginning,' must have hinted
At the primal cause of all things,
At the first and great beginning,
All things growing out of HIM,
He himself the pre-existent:--
Yes, but then a new beginning
Must we seek for this beginner,
And so on ad infinitum;
Since if I, on soaring pinion
Seek from facts to rise to causes,
Rising still from where I had risen,
I will find at length there is
No beginning to the beginning,
And the inference that time
Somehow was, ere time existed,
And that that which ne'er begun
Ne'er can end, is plain and simple.
But, my thought, remain not here,
Rest not in those narrow limits,
But rise up with me and dare
Heights that make the brain grow dizzy:--
And at once to enter there,
Other things being pretermitted,
Let us venture where the mind,
As the darkness round it thickens,
Almost faints as we resume
What this mystic scribe has written.
"And the Word", this writer says,
"Was made flesh!" Ah! how can this be?
Could the Word that in the beginning
Was with God, was God, was gifted
With such power as to make all things,
Could it be made flesh? In pity,
Heavens! or take from me at once
All the sense that you have given me,
Or at once on me bestow
Some intelligence, some glimmer
Of clear light through these dark shadows:--
Deity, unknown and hidden,
God or Word, whate'er thou beest,
Of Thyself the great beginner,
Of Thyself the end, if, Thou
Being Thyself beyond time's sickle,
Still in time the world didst fashion,
If Thou 'rt life, O living spirit,
If Thou 'rt light, my darkened senses
With Thy life and light enkindle!--
(The voices of two spirits are heard from within, one at each side.)
First Voice.
Hear, Chrysanthus . . .
Second Voice.
Listen . . .
CHRYSANTHUS.
Two
Voices, if they are not instincts,
Shadows without soul or body,
Which my fancy forms within me,
Are contending in my bosom
Each with each at the same instant.
(Two figures appear on high, one clothed in a dark robe dotted with
stars; the other in a bright and beautiful mantle: Chrysanthus does not
see them, but in the following scene ever speaks to himself.)
First Voice.
What this crabbed text here meaneth
By the Word, is plain and simple,
It is Jove to whose great voice
Gods and men obedient listen.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Jove, it must be Jove, by whom
Breath, speech, life itself are given.
Second Voice.
What the holy Gospel means
By the Word, is that great Spirit
Who was in Himself for ever,
First, last, always self-existent.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Self-existent! first and last!
Reason cannot grasp that dictum.
First Voice.
In the beginning of the world
Jove in heaven his high throne fix`ed,
Leaving less imperial thrones
To the other gods to fill them.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Yes, if he could not alone
Rule creation unassisted.
Second Voice.
God was God, long, long before
Earth or heaven's blue vault existed,
He was in Himself, ere He
Gave to time its life and mission.
First Voice.
Worship only pay to Jove,
God o'er all our gods uplifted.
Second Voice.
Worship pay to God alone,
He the infinite, the omniscient.
First Voice.
He doth lord the world below.
Second Voice.
He is Lord of Heaven's high kingdom.
First Voice.
Shun the lightnings of his wrath.
Second Voice.
Seek the waves of his forgiveness. [The Figures disappear.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Oh! what darkness, what confusion,
In myself I find here pitted
'Gainst each other! Spirits twain
Struggle desperately within me,
Spirits twain of good and ill,--
One with gentle impulse wins me
To believe, but, oh! the other
With opposing force resistless
Drives me back to doubt: Oh! who
Will dispel these doubts that fill me?
POLEMIUS (within).
Yes, Carpophorus must pay
For the trouble that this gives me.--
CHRYSANTHUS.
Though these words by chance were spoken
As an omen I 'll admit them:
Since Carpophorus (who in Rome
Was the most renowned, most gifted
Master in all science), now
Flying from the emperor's lictors,
Through suspect of being a Christian,
In lone deserts wild and dismal
Lives a saintly savage life,
He will give to all my wishes
The solution of these doubts:--
And till then, O restless thinking
Torture me and tease no more!
Let me live for that! [His voice gradually rises.
ESCARPIN (within).
Within there
My young master calls.
CLAUDIUS (within).
All enter.
(Enter Polemius, Claudius, Aurelius, and Escarpin).
POLEMIUS.
My Chrysanthus, what afflicts thee?
CHRYSANTHUS.
Canst thou have been here, my father?
POLEMIUS.
No, my son, 't was but this instant
That I entered here, alarmed
By the strange and sudden shrillness
Of thy voice; and though I had
On my hands important business,
Grave and weighty, since to me
Hath the Emperor transmitted
This decree, which bids me search
Through the mountains for the Christians
Hidden there, and specially
For Carpophorus, their admitted
Chief and teacher, for which cause
I my voice too thus uplifted--
"Yes, Carpophorus must pay
For the trouble that this gives me"--
I left all at hearing thee.--
Why so absent? so bewildered?
What 's the reason?
CHRYSANTHUS.
Sir, 't is naught.
POLEMIUS.
Whom didst thou address?
CHRYSANTHUS.
Here sitting
I was reading to myself,
And perchance conceived some image
I may have addressed in words
Which have from my memory flitted.
POLEMIUS.
The grave sadness that o'erwhelms thee
Will, unless it be resisted,
Undermine thy understanding,
If thou hast it still within thee.
CLAUDIUS.
'T is a loud soliloquy,
'T is a rather audible whisper
That compels one's friends to hasten
Full of fear to his assistance!
CHRYSANTHUS.
Well, excitement may . . .
POLEMIUS.
Oh! cease;
That excuse will scarce acquit thee,
Since when one 's alone, excitement
Is a flame that 's seldom kindled.
I am pleased, well pleased to see thee
To the love of books addicted,
But then application should not
To extremes like this be driven,
Nor should letters alienate thee
From thy country, friends, and kinsmen.
CLAUDIUS.
A young man by heaven so favoured,
With such rare endowments gifted,
Blessed with noble birth and valour,
Dowered with genius, rank, and riches,
Can he yield to such enthralment,
Can he make his room a prison,
Can he waste in idle reading
The fair flower of his existence?
POLEMIUS.
Dost thou not remember also
That thou art my son? Bethink thee
That the great Numerianus,
Our good emperor, has given me
The grand government of Rome
As chief senator of the city,
And with that imperial burden
The whole world too--all the kingdoms,
All the provinces subjected
To its varied, vast dominion.
Know'st thou not, from Alexandria,
From my native land, my birth-place,
Where on many a proud escutcheon
My ancestral fame is written,
That he brought me here, the weight
Of his great crown to bear with him,
And that Rome upon my entry
Gave to me a recognition
That repaid the debt it owed me,
Since the victories were admitted
Which in glorious alternation
By my sword and pen were given her?
Through what vanity, what folly,
Wilt thou not enjoy thy birth-right
As my son and heir, indulging
Solely in these idle whimseys?--
CHRYSANTHUS.
Sir, the state in which you see me,
This secluded room, this stillness,
Do not spring from want of feeling,
Or indifference to your wishes.
'T is my natural disposition;
For I have no taste to mingle
In the vulgar vain pursuits
Of the courtier crowds ambitious.
And if living to myself here
More of true enjoyment gives me,
Why would you desire me seek for
That which must my joys diminish?
Let this time of sadness pass,
Let these hours of lonely vigil,
Then for fame and its applauses,
Which no merit of my own,
But my father's name may bring me.
POLEMIUS.
Would it not, my son, be fitter
That you should enjoy those plaudits
In the fresh and blooming spring-time
Of your life, and to hereafter
Leave the loneliness and vigil?
ESCARPIN.
Let me tell a little story
Which will make the whole thing simple:--
A bad painter bought a house,
Altogether a bad business,
For the house itself was bad:
He however was quite smitten
With his purchase, and would show it
To a friend of his, keen-witted,
But bad also: when they entered,
The first room was like a kitchen,
Black and bad:--"This room, you see, sir,
Now is bad, but just permit me
First to have it whitewashed over,
Then shall my own hand with pictures
Paint the walls from floor to ceiling,
Then you 'll see how bright 't will glisten".--
To him thus his friend made answer,
Smiling archly: "Yes, 't will glisten,
But if you would paint it first,
And then whitewash o'er the pictures,
The effect would be much better".--
Now 's the time for you, my lord,
To lay on the shining pigment:
On that brilliant ground hereafter
Will the whitewash fall more fitly,
For, in fine, the poorest painting
Is improved by time's slow finger.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Sir, I say, that in obedience
To your precepts, to your wishes,
I will strive from this day forward
So to act, that you will think me
Changed into another being. [Exit.
POLEMIUS.
Claudius, my paternal instinct
Makes me fear Chrysanthus' sadness,
Makes we tremble that its issue
May result in total madness.
Since thou art his friend and kinsman
Both combined, make out, I pray thee,
What occasions this bewitchment,
To the end that I may break it:
And my promise now I give thee,
That although I should discover
Love's delirious dream delicious
May be at the root,--most likely
At his age the true suspicion,--
It shall not disturb or grieve me.
Nay, since I am doomed to witness
His dejection, it will glad me
To find out that so it springeth.
ESCARPIN.
Once a high priest of Apollo
Had two nephews soft and silly,
More than silly, wretched creatures,
More than wretched, doltish drivels;
And perceiving from experience
How love smartens up its victims,
He but said to them this only,
"Fall in love at least, ye ninnies".--
Thus, though not in love, sir, now,
I 'll be bound he 'll be so quickly,
Merely to oblige you.
POLEMIUS.
This
Is not quite as I would wish it,
For when anything has happened,
The desire to know it, differs
From the wish it so should happen.
CLAUDIUS.
I, my lord, my best assistance
Offer thee to strive and fathom
From what cause can have arisen
Such dejection and such sadness;
This henceforth shall be my business
To divert him and distract him.
POLEMIUS.
Such precisely are my wishes:
And since now I am forced to go
In obedience to the mission
Sent me by Numerianus,
'Mid the wastes to search for Christians,
In my absence, Claudius,
Most consoling thoughts 't will give me,
To remember that thou watchest
O'er Chrysanthus.
CLAUDIUS.
From this instant
Until thy return, I promise
Not to leave his side.
POLEMIUS.
Aurelius . . .
AURELIUS.
My good lord.
POLEMIUS.
Art sure thou knowest
In this mountain the well-hidden
Cave wherein Carpophorus dwelleth?
AURELIUS.
Him I promise to deliver
To thy hands.
POLEMIUS.
Then lead the soldiers
Stealthily and with all quickness
To the spot, for all must perish
Who are there found hiding with him:--
For the care with which, ye Heavens!
I uphold the true religion
Of the gods, their faith and worship,
For the zeal that I exhibit
In thus crushing Christ's new law,
Which I hate with every instinct
Of my soul, oh! grant my guerdon
In the cure of my son's illness! [Exeunt Polemius and Aurelius.
CLAUDIUS (to Escarpin).
Go and tell my lord Chrysanthus
That I wish he would come with me
Forth to-day for relaxation.
ESCARPIN.
Relaxation! just say whither
Are we to go forth to get it;
Of that comfort I get little--
CLAUDIUS.
Outside Rome, Diana's temple
On the Salarian way uplifteth
Its majestic front: the fairest
Of our Roman maids dwell in it:
'T is the custom, as thou knowest,
That the loveliest of Rome's children
Whom patrician blood ennobles,
From their tender years go thither
To be priestesses of the goddess,
Living there till 't is permitted
They should marry: 't is the centre
Of all charms, the magic circle
Drawn around a land of beauty--
Home of deities--Elysium!--
And as great Diana is
Goddess of the groves, her children
Have to her an altar raised
In the loveliest cool green thicket.
Thither, when the evening falleth,
And the season is propitious,
Various squadrons of fair nymphs
Hasten: and it is permitted
Gallant youths, unmarried also,
As an escort to go with them.
There this evening will I lead him.
ESCARPIN.
Well, I doubt that your prescription
Is the best: for fair recluses,
Whose sublime pursuits, restricted
To celestial things, make even
The most innocent thought seem wicked,
Are by no means likely persons
To divert a man afflicted
With this melancholy madness:
Better take him into the thickest
Throng of Rome, there flesh and bone
Goddesses he 'll find, and fitter.--
CLAUDIUS.
Ah! you speak but as the vulgar:
Is it not the bliss of blisses
To adore some lovely being
In the ideal, in the distance,
Almost as a vision?--
ESCARPIN.
Yes;
'T is delightful; I admit it,
But there 's good and better: think
Of the choice that once a simple
Mother gave her son: she said:
"Egg or rasher, which will I give thee?"
And he said: "The rasher, mother,
But with the egg upon it, prithee".
"Both are best", so says the proverb.
CLAUDIUS.
Well, if tastes did n't sometimes differ,
What a notable mistake
Providence would have committed!
To adore thee, sweetest Cynthia, [aside
Is the height of all my wishes:
As it well may be, for am I
Worthy, worship even to give her? [Exeunt.
SCENE THE SECOND
A Wood near Rome.
(Enter NISIDA and CHLORIS, the latter with a lyre).
NISIDA.
Have you brought the instrument?
CHLORIS.
Yes.
NISIDA.
Then give it me, for here
In this tranquil forest sphere,
Where the boughs and blossoms blent,
Ruby blooms and emerald stems,
Round about their radiance fling,
Where the canopy of spring
Breathes of flowers and gleams with gems,
Here I wish that air to play,
Which to words that Cynthia wrote
I have set--a simple note.
CHLORIS.
And the song, senora, say,
What 's the theme?
NISIDA.
A touching strain,--
How a nightingale in a grove
Singing sweetly of his love,
Sang its pleasure and its pain.
Enter CYNTHIA (reading in a book).
CYNTHIA (to herself).
Whilst each alley here discloses
Youthful nymphs, who as they pass
To Diana's shrine, the grass
Turn to beds of fragrant roses,--
Where the interlac`ed bars
Of these woods their beauty dowers
Seem a verdant sky of flowers--
Seem an azure field of stars.
I shall here recline and read
(While they wander through the grove)
Ovid's 'Remedy of Love.'
NISIDA (to Chloris).
Hear the words and air.
CHLORIS.
Proceed.
NISIDA (singing).
O nightingale, whose sweet exulting strain
Tells of thy triumphs to the listening grove,
Thou fill'st my heart with envy and with pain.
But no; but no; for if thou sing'st of love,
Jealousy's pangs and sorrow's tears remain.
CYNTHIA (advancing).
What a charming air! To me
What an honour! From this day
I may well be vain, as they
May without presumption be,
Who, despite their numerous slips,
Find their words can please the ear,
Who their rugged verses hear
Turn to music on thy lips.
NISIDA.
'T is thine own genius, not my skill,
That produces this effect;
For, without it, I suspect,
Would my voice sound harsh and shrill,
And my lute's strings should be broken
With a just and wholesome rigour,
For presuming to disfigure
What thy words so well have spoken.
Whither wert thou wending here?
CYNTHIA.
Through the quiet wood proceeding,
I the poet's book was reading,
When there fell upon my ear,
Soft and sweet, thy voice: its power,
Gentle lodestone of my feet,
Brought me to this green retreat--
Led me to this lonely bower:
But what wonder, when to listen
To thy sweetly warbled words
Ceased the music of the birds--
Of the founts that glide and glisten?
May I hope that, since I came
Thus so opportunely near,
I the gloss may also hear?
NISIDA.
I will sing it, though with shame.
(Sings)
Sweet nightingale, that from some echoing grot
Singest the rapture of thy love aloud,
Singest with voice so joyous and so proud,
All unforgetting thou mayst be forgot,
Full of thyself and of thy happy lot!
Ah! when thou trillest that triumphant strain
To all the listening lyrists of the grove,
Thou fill'st my heart with envy and with pain!
But no; but no; for if thou sing'st of love.
Jealousy's pangs and sorrow's tears remain!
Enter DARIA.
DARIA.
Ah! my Nisida, forbear,
Ah! those words forbear to sing,
Which on zephyr's wanton wing
Thou shouldst waft not on the air.
All is wrong, how sweet it be,
That the vestal's thoughts reprove:
What is jealousy? what is love?
That they should be sung by thee?
Think this wood is consecrated
To Diana's service solely,
Not to Venus: it is holy.
Why then wouldst thou desecrate it
With thy songs? Does 't not amaze
Thee thyself--this strangest thing--
In Diana's grove to sing
Hymns of love to Cupid's praise?
But I need not wonder, no,
That thou 'rt so amused, since I
Here see Cynthia with thee.
CYNTHIA.
Why
Dost thou say so?
DARIA.
I say so
For good cause: in books profane
Thou unceasingly delightest,
Verse thou readest, verse thou writest,
Of their very vanity vain.
And if thou wouldst have me prove
What I say to thy proceeding,
Tell me, what 's this book thou 'rt reading?
CYNTHIA.
'T is The Remedy of Love.
Whence thou mayst perceive how weak
Is thy inference, thy deduction
From my studious self-instruction;
Since the patient who doth seek
Remedies to cure his pain
Shows by this he would grow better;--
For the slave who breaks his fetter
Cannot surely love his chain.
NISIDA.
This, though not put quite so strong,
Was involved in the conclusion
Of my lay: Love's disillusion
Was the burden of my song.
DARIA.
Remedies and disillusions,
Seek ye both beneath one star?
Ah! if so, you are not far
From its pains and its confusions:
For the very fact of pleading
Disillusion, shows that thou
'Neath illusion's yoke doth bow,--
And the patient who is needing
Remedies doth prove that still
The sharp pang he doth endure,
For there 's no one seeks a cure
Ere he feels that he is ill:--
Therefore to this wrong proceeding
Grieved am I to see ye clinging--
Seeking thou thy cure in singing--
Thou thy remedy in reading.
CYNTHIA.
Casual actions of this class
That are done without intention
Of a second end, to mention
Here were out of place: I pass
To another point: There 's no one
Who with genius, or denied it,--
Dowered with mind, but has applied it
Some especial track to go on:
This variety suffices
For its exercise and action,
Just as some by free attraction
Seek the virtues and the vices;--
This blind instinct, or this duty,
We three share;--'t is thy delight
Nisida to sing,--to write
Mine,--and thine to adore thy beauty.
Which of these three occupations
Is the best--or those that need
Skill and labour to succeed,
Or thine own vain contemplations?--
Have I not, when morning's rays
Gladdened grove and vale and mountain,
Seen thee in the crystal fountain
At thyself enamoured gaze?
Wherefore, once again returning
To our argument of love,
Thou a greater pang must prove,
If from thy insatiate yearning
I infer a cause: the spell
Lighter falls on one who still,
To herself not feeling ill,
Would in other eyes seem well.
DARIA.
Ah! so far, so far from me
Is the wish as vain as weak--
(Now my virtue doth not speak,
Now but speaks my vanity),
Ah! so far, I say, my breast
Turns away from things of love,
That the sovereign hand of Jove,
Were it to attempt its best,
Could no greater wonder work,
Than that I, Daria, should
So be changed in mind and mood
As to let within me lurk
Love's minutest, smallest seed:--
Only upon one condition
Could I love, and that fruition
Then would be my pride indeed.
CYNTHIA.
What may that condition be?
DARIA.
When of all mankind, I knew
One who felt a love so true
As to give his life for me,
Then, until my own life fled,
Him, with gratitude and pride,
Were I sure that so he died,
I would love though he were dead.
NISIDA.
Poor reward for love so great
Were that tardy recollection,
Since, it seems, for thy affection
He, till life is o'er, must wait.
CYNTHIA.
Soars thy vanity so high?
Thy presumption is above
All belief: be sure, for love
No man will be found to die.
DARIA.
Why more words then? love must be
In my case denied by heaven:
Since my love cannot be given
Save to one who 'll die for me.
CYNTHIA.
Thy ambition is a thing
So sublime, what can be said?--
Better I resumed and read,
Better, Nisida, thou shouldst sing,
This disdain so strange and strong,
This delusion little heeding.
NISIDA.
Yes, do thou resume thy reading,
I too will resume my song.
DARIA.
I, that I may not renew
Such reproaches, whilst you sing,
Whilst you read, in this clear spring
Thoughtfully myself shall view.
NISIDA sings.
O nightingale, whose sweet exulting strain
Tells of thy triumphs to the listening grove,
Thou fill'st my heart with envy and with pain!--
But no, but no, for if thou sing'st of love
Jealousy's pangs and sorrow's tears remain!
Enter CHRYSANTHUS, CLAUDIUS, and ESCARPIN.
CLAUDIUS, to Chrysanthus.
Does not the beauty of this wood,
This tranquil wood, delight thee?
CHRYSANTHUS.
Yes:
Here nature's lord doth dower and bless
The world in most indulgent mood.
Who could believe this greenwood here
For the first time has blessed mine eyes?
CLAUDIUS.
It is the second Paradise,
Of deities the verdant sphere.
CHRYSANTHUS.
'T is more, this green and grassy glade
Whither our careless steps have strolled,
For here three objects we behold
Equally fair by distance made.
Of these that chain our willing feet,
There yonder where the path is leading,
One is a lady calmly reading,
One is a lady singing sweet,
And one whose rapt though idle air
Gives us to understand this truth--
A woman blessed with charms and youth,
Does quite enough in being fair.
ESCARPIN.
You are quite right in that, I 've seen
Beauties enough of that sort too.
CLAUDIUS.
If of the three here given to view,
The choice were thine to choose between,
Which of them best would suit thy taste?
Which wouldst thou make thy choice of, say?
CHRYSANTHUS.
I do not know: for in one way
They so with equal gifts are graced,
So musical and fair and wise,
That while one captivates the mind,
One works her witcheries with the wind,
And one, the fairest, charms our eyes.
The one who sings, it seems a duty,
Trusting her sweet voice, to think sweet,
The one who reads, to deem discreet,
The third, we judge but by her beauty:
And so I fear by act or word
To wrong the three by judging ill,
Of one her charms, of one her skill,
And the intelligence of the third.
For to choose one does wrong to two,
But if I so presumed to dare . . .
CLAUDIUS.
Which would it be?
CHRYSANTHUS.
The one that 's fair.
ESCARPIN.
My blessings on your choice and you!
That 's my opinion in the case,
'T is plain at least to my discerning
That in a woman wit and learning
Are nothing to a pretty face.
NISIDA.
Chloris, quick, take up the lyre,
For a rustling noise I hear
In this shady thicket near:
Yes, I 'm right, I must retire.
Swift as feet can fly I 'll go.
For these men that here have strayed
Must have heard me while I played. [Exeunt Nisida and Chloris.
CYNTHIA.
One of them I think I know.
Yes, 't is Claudius, as I thought,
Now he has a chance: I 'll see
If he cares to follow me,
Guessing rightly what has brought
Me to-day unto the grove:--
Ah! if love to grief is leading
Of what use to me is reading
In the Remedies of Love? [Exit.
DARIA (to herself).
In these bowers by trees o'ergrown,
Here contented I remain,
All companionship is vain,
Save my own sweet thoughts alone:--
CLAUDIUS.
Dear Chrysanthus, your election
Was to me both loss and gain,
Gave me pleasure, gave me pain:--
It seemed plain to my affection
(Being in love) your choice should fall
On the maid of pensive look,
Not on her who read the book:
But your praise made up for all.
And since each has equal force,
My complaint and gratulation,
Whilst with trembling expectation
I pursue my own love's course,
Try your fortune too, till we
Meet again. [Exit.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Confused I stay,
Without power to go away,
Spirit-bound, my feet not free.
From the instant that on me,
As a sudden beam might dart,
Flashed that form which Phidian art
Could not reach, I 've known no rest.--
Babylon is in my breast--
Troy is burning in my heart.
ESCARPIN.
Strange that I should feel as you,
That one thought should fire us two,
I too, sir, have lost my senses
Since I saw that lady.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Who,
Madman! fool! do you speak of? you!
Dare to feel those griefs of mine!--
ESCARPIN.
No, sir, yours I quite resign,
Would I could my own ones too!--
CHRYSANTHUS.
Leave me, or my wrath you 'll rue;
Hence! buffoon: by heaven I swear it,
I will kill you else.
ESCARPIN.
I go:--
For if you address her, oh!
Could my jealous bosom bear it? [aside [Exit.
CHRYSANTHUS (to Daria).
If my boldness so may dare it,
I desire to ask, senora,
If thou art this heaven's Aurora,
If the goddess of this fountain,
If the Juno of this mountain,
If of these bright flowers the Flora,
So that I may rightly know
In what style should speak to thee
My hushed voice . . . but pardon me
Now I would not thou said'st so.
Looking at thee now, the glow
Of thy beauty so excelleth,
Every charm so plainly telleth
Thou Diana's self must be;
Yes, Diana's self is she,
Who within her grove here dwelleth.
DARIA.
If, before you spoke to me,
You desired my name to know,
I in your case act not so,
Since I speak, whoe'er you be,
Forced, but most unwillingly
(As to listening heaven is plain)
To reply:--a bootless task
Were it in me, indeed, to ask,
Since, whoe'er you be, my strain
Must be one of proud disdain.
So I pray you, cavalier,
Leave me in this lonely wood,
Leave me in the solitude
I enjoyed ere you came here.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Sweetly, but with tone severe,
Thus my error you reprove--
That of asking in this grove
What your name is: you 're so fair,
That, whatever name you bear,
I must tell you of my love.
DARIA.
Love! a word to me unknown,
Sounds so strangely in my ears,
That my heart nor feels nor hears
Aught of it when it has flown.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Then there is no rashness shown
In repeating it once more,
Since to hear or to ignore
Suits alike your stoic coldness.
DARIA.
Yes, the speech, but not the boldness
Of the speaker I pass o'er,
For this word, whate'er it be,
When it breaks upon my ear,
Quick 't is gone, although I hear.
CHRYSANTHUS.
You forget it?
DARIA.
Instantly.
CHRYSANTHUS.
What! love's sweetest word! ah, me!
Canst forget the mightiest ray
Death can dart, or heaven display?
DARIA.
Yes, for lightning, entering where
Naught resists, is lost in air.
CHRYSANTHUS.
How? what way?
DARIA.
Well, in this way:
If two doors in one straight line
Open lie, and lightning falls,
Then the bolt between the walls
Passes through, and leaves no sign.
So 't is with this word of thine;
Though love be, which I do n't doubt,
Like heaven's bolt that darts about,
Still two opposite doors I 've here,
And what enters by one ear
By the other ear goes out.
CHRYSANTHUS.
If this lightning then darts through
Where no door lies open wide
To let it pass at the other side,
Must not fire and flame ensue?
This being so, 't is also true
That the fire of love that flies
Into my heart, in flames must rise,
Since without its feast of fire
The fatal flash cannot retire,
That has entered by the eyes.
DARIA.
If to what I said but now
You had listened, I believe
You would have preferred to leave
Still unspoken love's vain vow.
This you would yourself allow.
CHRYSANTHUS.
What then was it?
DARIA.
I don't know:
Something 't was that typified
My presumption and my pride.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Let me know it even so.
DARIA.
That in me no love could grow
Save for one who first would die
For my love.
CHRYSANTHUS.
And death being past,
Would he win your love at last?--
DARIA.
Yes, on that he might rely.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Then I plight my troth that I
Will to that reward aspire,--
A poor offering at the fire
By those beauteous eyes supplied.
DARIA.
But as you have not yet died,
Pray do n't follow me, but retire. [Exit.
CHRYSANTHUS.
In what bosom, at one moment,
Oh! ye heavens! e'er met together
Such a host of anxious troubles?
Such a crowd of boding terrors?
Can I be the same calm student
Who awhile ago here wended?
To a miracle of beauty,
To a fair face now surrendered,
I scarce know what brought me hither,
I my purpose scarce remember.
What bewitchment, what enchantment,
What strange lethargy, what frenzy
Can have to my heart, those eyes
Such divine delirium sent me?
What divinity, desirous
That I should not know the endless
Mysteries of the book I carry,
In my path such snares presenteth,
Seeking from these serious studies
To distract me and divert me?
But what 's this I say? One passion
Accidentally developed,
Should not be enough, no, no,
From myself myself to sever.
If the violence of one star
Draws me to a deity's service,
It compels not; for the planets
Draw, but force not, the affections.
Free is yet my will, my mind too,
Free is still my heart: then let me
Try to solve more noble problems
Than the doubts that love presenteth.
And since Claudius, the new Clytie
Of the sun, whose golden tresses
Lead him in pursuit, her footsteps
Follows through the wood, my servant
Having happily too departed,
And since yonder rocks where endeth
The dark wood in savage wildness
Must be the rude rustic shelter
Of the Christians who fled thither,
I 'll approach them to endeavour
To find there Carpophorus:--
He alone, the wise, the learn`ed,
Can my understanding rescue
From its night-mare dreams and guesses. [Exit.
SCENE III. The extremity of the wood:
wild rocks with the entrance to a cave.
Carpophorus comes forth from the cave, but is for a while unseen by
Chrysanthus, who enters.
CHRYSANTHUS.
What a labyrinthine thicket
Is this place that I have entered!
Nature here takes little trouble,
Letting it be seen how perfect
Is the beauty that arises
Even from nature's careless efforts:
Deep within this darksome grotto
Which no sunbeam's light can enter,
I shall penetrate: it seemeth
As if until now it never
Had been trod by human footsteps.
There where yonder marge impendeth
O'er a streamlet that swift-flying
Carries with it the white freshness
Of the snows that from the mountains
Ever in its waves are melted,
Stands almost a skeleton;
The sole difference it presenteth
To the tree-trunks near it is,
That it moves as well as trembles,
Slow and gaunt, a living corse.
Oh! thou venerable elder
Who, a reason-gifted tree,
Mid mere natural trees here dwelleth.--
CARPOPHORUS.
Wo! oh! wo is me!--a Roman!
(At seeing Chrysanthus, he attempts to fly.)
CHRYSANTHUS.
Though a Roman, do not dread me:
With no evil end I seek thee.
CARPOPHORUS.
Then what wouldst thou have, thou gentle
Roman youth? for thou hast silenced
My first fears even by thy presence.
CHRYSANTHUS.
'T is to ask, what now I ask thee,
Of the rocks that in this desert
Gape for ever open wide
In eternal yawns incessant,
Which is the rough marble tomb
Of a living corse interred here?
Which of these dark caves is that
In whose gloom Carpophorus dwelleth?
'T is important I speak with him.
CARPOPHORUS.
Then, regarding not the perils,
I will own it. I myself
Am Carpophorus.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Oh! let me,
Father, feel thy arms enfold me.
CARPOPHORUS.
To my heart: for as I press thee,
How, I know not, the mere contact
Brings me back again the freshness
And the greenness of my youth,
Like the vine's embracing tendrils
Twining round an aged tree:
Gallant youth, who art thou? tell me.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Father, I am called Chrysanthus,
Of Polemius, the first member
Of the Roman senate, son.
CARPOPHORUS.
And thy purpose?
CHRYSANTHUS.
It distresses
Me to see thee standing thus:
On this bank sit down and rest thee.
CARPOPHORUS.
Kindly thought of; for, alas!
I a tottering wall resemble:
At the mouth of this my cave
Let us then sit down together. [They sit down.
What now wouldst thou have, Sir Stranger?
CHRYSANTHUS.
Sir, as long as I remember,
I have felt an inclination
To the love of books and letters.
In my casual studies lately
I a difficulty met with
That I could not solve, and knowing
No one in all Rome more learn`ed
Than thyself (thy reputation
Having with this truth impressed me)
I have hither come to ask thee
To explain to me this sentence:
For I cannot understand it.
'T is, sir, in this book.
CARPOPHORUS.
Pray, let me
See it then.
CHRYSANTHUS.
'T is at the beginning;
Nay, the sentence that perplexes
Me so much is that.
CARPOPHORUS.
Why, these
Are the Holy Gospels! Heavens!
CHRYSANTHUS.
What! you kiss the book?
CARPOPHORUS.
And press it
To my forehead, thus suggesting
The profound respect with which
I even touch so great a treasure.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Why, what is the book, which I
By mere accident selected?
CARPOPHORUS.
'T is the basis, the foundation
Of the Scripture Law.
CHRYSANTHUS.
I tremble
With an unknown horror.
CARPOPHORUS.
Why?
CHRYSANTHUS.
Deeper now I would not enter
Into the secrets of a book
Which are magic spells, I 'm certain.
CARPOPHORUS.
No, not so, but vital truths.
CHRYSANTHUS.
How can that be, when its verses
Open with this line that says
(A beginning surely senseless)
"In the beginning was the Word,
And it was with God": and then it
Adds: this Word itself was God;
Then unto the Word reverting,
Says explicitly that IT
"Was made flesh"?
CARPOPHORUS.
A truth most certain:
For this first evangelist
Here to us our God presenteth
In a twofold way: the first
As being God, as Man the second.
CHRYSANTHUS.
God and Man combined together?
CARPOPHORUS.
Yes, in one eternal Person
Are both natures joined together.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Then, for this is what more presses
On my mind, can that same Word
When it was made flesh, be reckoned
God?
CARPOPHORUS.
Yes, God and Man is Christ
Crucified for our transgressions.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Pray explain this wondrous problem.
CARPOPHORUS.
He is God, because He never
Was created: He is the Word,
For, besides, He was engendered
By the Father, from both whom
In eternal due procession
Comes the Holy Ghost, three Persons,
But one God, thrice mystic emblem!--
In the Catholic faith we hold
In one Trinity one God dwelleth,
And that in one God is also
One sole Trinity, ever bless`ed,
Which confounds not the three Persons,
Nor the single substance severs.
One is the person of the Father,
One the Son's, beloved for ever,
One, the third, the Holy Ghost's.
But though three, you must remember
That in the Father, and in the Son,
And in the Holy Ghost . . .
CHRYSANTHUS.
Unheard of
Mysteries these!
CARPOPHORUS.
There 's but one God,
Equal in the power exerted,
Equal in the state and glory;
For . . .
CHRYSANTHUS.
I listen, but I tremble.
CARPOPHORUS.
The eternal Father is
Limitless, even so unmeasured
And eternal is the Son,
And unmeasured and eternal
Is the Holy Ghost; but then
Three eternities are not meant here,
Three immensities, no, but One,
Who is limitless and eternal.
For though increate the three,
They are but one Uncreated.
First the Father was not made,
Or created, or engendered;
Then engendered was the Son
By the Father, not created;
And the Spirit was not made
Or created, or engendered
By the Father or the Son,
But proceeds from both together.
This is God's divinity
Viewed as God alone, let 's enter
On the human aspect.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Stay:
For so strange, so unexpected
Are the things you say, that I
Need for their due thought some leisure.
Let me my lost breath regain,
For entranced, aroused, suspended,
Spell-bound your strong reasons hold me.
Is there then but one sole God
In three Persons, one in essence,
One in substance, one in power,
One in will?
CARPOPHORUS.
My son, 't is certain.
(Enter Aurelius and Soldiers.)
AURELIUS to the Soldiers.
Yonder is the secret cavern
Of Carpophorus, at its entrance
See him seated with another
Reading.
A SOLDIER.
Why delay? Arrest them.
AURELIUS.
Recollect Polemius bade us,
When we seized them, to envelope
Each one's face, that so, the Christians,
Their accomplices and fellows,
Should not know or recognize them.
A SOLDIER.
You 're our prisoners.
[A veil is thrown over the head of each.]
CHRYSANTHUS.
What! base wretches . . .
AURELIUS.
Gag their mouths.
CHRYSANTHUS.
But then I am . . .
AURELIUS.
Come, no words: now tie together
Both their hands behind their backs.
CHRYSANTHUS.
Why I am . . .
CARPOPHORUS.
Oh! sacred heaven!
Now my wished-for day has come.
A VOICE FROM HEAVEN.
No, not yet, my faithful servant:--
I desire the constancy
Of Chrysanthus may be tested:--
Heed not him, as for thyself,
In this manner I preserve thee. [Carpophorus disappears.
(Enter Polemius.)
POLEMIUS.
What has happened?
AURELIUS.
Oh! a wonder.--
We Carpophorus arrested,
And with him this other Christian;
Both we held here bound and fettered,
When from out our hands he vanished.
POLEMIUS.
By some sorcery 't was effected,
For those Christians use enchantments,
And then miracles pretend them.
A SOLDIER.
See, a crowd of them there flying
To the mountains.
POLEMIUS.
Intercept them,
And secure the rabble rout;
This one I shall guard myself here:-- [Exeunt Aurelius and soldiers.
Miserable wretch! who art thou?
Thus that I may know thee better,
Judging from thy face thy crimes,
I unveil thee. Gracious heaven!
My own son!
CHRYSANTHUS.
Oh! heavens! my father!
POLEMIUS.
Thou with Christians here detected?
Thou here in their caverns hidden?
Thou a prisoner? Wherefore, wherefore,
O immense and mighty Jove,
Are thy angry bolts suspended?
CHRYSANTHUS.
'T was to solve a certain doubt
Which some books of thine presented,
That I sought Carpophorus,
That I wandered to these deserts,
And . . .
POLEMIUS.
Cease, cease; for now I see
What has led to this adventure:
Thou unhappily art gifted
With a genius ill-directed;
For I count as vain and foolish
All the lore that lettered leisure
Has in human books e'er written;
But this passion has possessed thee,
And to learn their magic rites
Here, a willing slave, has led thee.
CHRYSANTHUS.
No, not magic was the knowledge
I came here to learn--far better--
The high mysteries of a faith
Which I reverence, while I dread them.
POLEMIUS.
Cease, oh! cease once more, nor let
Such vile treason find expression
On thy lips. What! thou to praise them!
AURELIUS (within).
Yonder wait the two together.
POLEMIUS.
Cover up thy face once more,
That the soldiers, when they enter,
May not know thee, may not know
How my honour is affected
By this act, until I try
Means more powerful to preserve it.
CHRYSANTHUS (aside).
God, whom until now I knew not,
Grant Thy favour, deign to help me:
Grant through suffering and through sorrow
I may come to know Thee better.
(Enter Aurelius and Soldiers.)
AURELIUS.
Though we searched the whole of the mountain,
Not one more have we arrested.
POLEMIUS.
Take this prisoner here to Rome,
And be sure that you remember
All of you my strict commands,
That no hand shall dare divest him
Of his veil:-- [Chrysanthus is led out.
Why, why, O heavens! [aside.
Do I pause, but from my breast here
Tear my bleeding heart? How act
In so dreadful a dilemma?
If I say who he is, I tarnish
With his guilt my name for ever,
And my loyalty if I 'm silent,
Since he being here transgresses
By that fact alone the edict:
Shall I punish him? The offender
Is my son. Shall I free him? He
Is my enemy and a rebel:--
If between these two extremes
Some mean lies, I cannot guess it.
As a father I must love him,
And as a judge I must condemn him. [Exeunt.
