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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15472-8.txt b/15472-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d06c94e --- /dev/null +++ b/15472-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6895 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Emblems Of Love, by Lascelles Abercrombie + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Emblems Of Love + +Author: Lascelles Abercrombie + +Release Date: March 26, 2005 [EBook #15472] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EMBLEMS OF LOVE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Keren Vergon, S.R. Ellison +and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +EMBLEMS OF LOVE + + + +BY THE SAME AUTHOR + +INTERLUDES AND POEMS + + +EMBLEMS OF LOVE + +DESIGNED IN SEVERAL DISCOURSES +BY LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE + +_"Wonder it is to see in diverse mindes +How diversly love doth his pageaunts play" + + +"Ego tamquam centrum, circuli, cui simili modo +se habent circumferentiæ partes"_ + + + + +TO MY WIFE + + + + +TABLE + + page +HYMN TO LOVE 3 + +PART I DISCOVERY AND PROPHECY + PRELUDE 7 + VASHTI 16 + +PART II IMPERFECTION + THREE GIRLS IN LOVE: + MARY: A LEGEND OF THE '45 77 + JEAN 94 + KATRINA 109 + +PART III VIRGINITY AND PERFECTION + JUDITH 127 + THE ETERNAL WEDDING 188 + + MARRIAGE SONG 200 + EPILOGUE: DEDICATION 209 + + + + +EMBLEMS OF LOVE + + + + +HYMN TO LOVE + +We are thine, O Love, being in thee and made of thee, + As thóu, Lóve, were the déep thóught +And we the speech of the thought; yea, spoken are we, + Thy fires of thought out-spoken: + +But burn'd not through us thy imagining + Like fiérce móod in a sóng cáught, +We were as clamour'd words a fool may fling, + Loose words, of meaning broken. + +For what more like the brainless speech of a fool,-- + The lives travelling dark fears, +And as a boy throws pebbles in a pool + Thrown down abysmal places? + +Hazardous are the stars, yet is our birth + And our journeying time theirs; +As words of air, life makes of starry earth + Sweet soul-delighted faces; + +As voices are we in the worldly wind; + The great wind of the world's fate +Is turned, as air to a shapen sound, to mind + And marvellous desires. + +But not in the world as voices storm-shatter'd, + Not borne down by the wind's weight; +The rushing time rings with our splendid word + Like darkness filled with fires. + +For Love doth use us for a sound of song, + And Love's meaning our life wields, +Making our souls like syllables to throng + His tunes of exultation. + +Down the blind speed of a fatal world we fly, + As rain blown along earth's fields; +Yet are we god-desiring liturgy, + Sung joys of adoration; + +Yea, made of chance and all a labouring strife, + We go charged with a strong flame; +For as a language Love hath seized on life + His burning heart to story. + +Yea, Love, we are thine, the liturgy of thee. + Thy thought's golden and glad name, +The mortal conscience of immortal glee, + Love's zeal in Love's own glory. + + + + +PART I + +DISCOVERY AND PROPHECY + + + + +PRELUDE + + +_Night on bleak downs; a high grass-grown trench runs +athwart the slope. The earthwork is manned by +warriors clad in hides. Two warriors, BRYS and +GAST, talking_. + +_Gast_. +This puts a tall heart in me, and a tune +Of great glad blood flowing brave in my flesh, +To see thee, after all these moons, returned, +My Brys. If there's no rust in thy shoulder-joints, +That battle-wrath of thine, and thy good throwing, +Will be more help for us than if the dyke +Were higher by a span.--Ha! there was howling +Down in the thicket; they come soon, for sure. + +_Brys_. +Has there been hunger in the forest long? + +_Gast_. +I think, not only hunger makes them fierce: +They broke not long since into a village yonder, +A huge throng of them; all through the night we heard +The feasting they kept up. And that has made +The wolves blood-thirsty, I believe. + +_Brys_. + O fools +To keep so slack a waking on their dykes! +Now have they made a sleepless winter for us. +Every night we must look, lest the down-slope +Between us and the woods turn suddenly +To a grey onrush full of small green candles, +The charging pack with eyes flaming for flesh. +And well for us then if there's no more mist +Than the white panting of the wolfish hunger. + +_Gast_. +They'll come to-night. Three of us hunting went +Among the trees below: not long we stayed. +All the wolves of the world are in the forest, +And man's the meat they're after. + +_Brys_. + Ay, it must be +Blood-thirst is in them, if they come to-night, +Such clear and starry weather.--What dost thou make, +Gast, of the stars? + +_Gast_. + Brother, they're horrible. +I always keep my head as much as I may +Bent so they cannot look me in the eyes. + +_Brys_. +I never had this awe. The fear I have +Is not a load I crouch beneath, but something +Proud and wonderful, that lifteth my heart. +Yea, I look on a night of stars with fear +That comes close against glee. 'Tis like the fear +I have for the wolves, that maketh me joy-mad +To drive the yellow flint-edge through their shags. +So when I gaze on stars, they speak high fear +Into my soul; and strangely I think they mean +The fear must prompt me to some unknown war. + +_Gast_. +Be thou well ware of this. I have not told thee +How the stars, with their perilous overlooking, +Have raught away from all his manhood Gwat, +Our fiercest strength. For when the conquering wolves +Into that village won, we in our huts +Lay hearkening to their rejoicing hunger; +But Gwat stayed out in the stars all night long. +I peered at him as much as that whipt dog, +My heart, had daring for; and he stood stiff, +With all his senses aiming at the noise. +Some strong bad eagerness kept tightly rigged +The cordage of his body, till his nerves +Loosed on a sudden. He yelled, "What do we here, +High up among bleak winds, always afraid +Of murder from the wolves? I will be man +No more; the grey four-footed fellows have +The good meats of the world, and the best lodging, +Forest and weald." And then he wolfish howled, +And hurled off towards the snarling and the baying. +And now his soul wears the strength and fury +Of a huge dun-pelted wolf; he's the wolves' king; +And the fiends have learnt from him to laugh at our flints. +Now always in the assaults there's one great beast, +With yellow eyes and hackles like a mane, +That plays the captain, first to reach the dyke; +And I have heard that when he stands upright +To ramp against the bulwarks, in his throat +Are chattering yelps half tongued to grisly words. +Doubtless to-night thou'lt see him, leading his pack, +And with his jaws savagely tampering +With our earth-builded safety.--But now, Brys, +Is it not certain that the stars have done +This evil to Gwat's heart, and curdled all +The manhood in him? + +_Brys_. + When I was wanderer, +I came upon a lake, set in a land +Which has no fear of wolves. A fisher folk +Live there in houses stilted over the water, +And the stars walk like spectres of white fire +Upon the misty waters of the mere. +Ay, if they have no wolves, they have the fear +All as thou hast; the sedges in the night +Shudder, and out of the reeds there comes a cry +Half chuckling, half bewailing; but, as I think, +It is the mallard calling. Now among +This haunted folk, I markt a man who went +With shining eyes, and a joy in his face, about +His needs of living. Clear it was to me +He knew of some sweet race in his daily wont +Which blest him wonderly. I lived with him, +And from him learnt marvels. Yea, for he gave me +A wit to see in our earth more than fear. +Brother, how shall I tell thee, who hast still +Fear-poisoned nerves, that like a priest he brewed +My heart keen drink from out the look of earth?-- +Gast, is it nothing to thee that all in green +The wolds go heaping up against the blue? +And is it only fear to thee that night +Is thatched with stars?--Ah, but I took his wit +Further than he e'er did; in women I found +The same amazement for my wakened eyes +As in the hills and waters. Ay, gape at me, +And think me bitten by some evil tooth; +But as a quiet stream at the cliff's edge +Breaks its smooth habit into a loud white force, +So this delight the earth pours over me +Leaps out of women with such excellence, +It seems as I must brace my sinews to it,-- +The comely fashion of their limbs, their eyes, +Their gait, and the way they use their arms. And now +My eyes have a message to my heart from them +Such as thou only through a blind skin hast. +Therefore I came back here;--I scarce know why, +But now that women are to me not only +The sacred friends of hidden Awe, not only +Mistresses of the world's unseen foison, +Ay, and not only ease for throbbing groins, +But things mine eyes enjoy as mine ears take songs, +Vision that beats a timbrel in my blood, +Dreams for my sleeping sight, that move aired round +With wonder, as trembling covers a hearth,-- +It seems I must be fighting for them, must +Run through some danger to them now before +Delighting in them. I am here to fight +Wolves for the joy of the world, marvellous women! + +_Gast_. +Star-madden'd! What is this in earth and women +That pricks thee into wrath against the wolves? +Do I not fight for women too? But I +For what is certain in them, not for madness. + +_Brys_. +I make my fierceness of a mind to set +My spirit high up in the winds of joy, +Before I tumble down into the darkness. +Not thus thy women send thee to thy fighting: +All fear thy battle-courage is, fear-bred +Thine anger. Thou heavily drudgest women, +But yet thou art afraid of them. + +_Gast_. + Ay, truly; +For look how from their wondrous bodies comes +Increase: who knoweth where such power ends? +They are in league with the great Motherhood +Who brings the seasons forth in the open world; +And if to them She hands, unseen by us, +Their marvellous bringing forth of children, what +Spirit of Her great dreadful mountain-spell, +Wherein the rocks have purpose against us, +Sealed up in watchful quiet stone, may not +Pass on to their dark minds, that seem so mild, +Yet are so strange; or what charm'd word from out +Her forests whispering endless dangerous things, +Wherefrom our hunters often have run crazed +To hear the trees devising for their souls; +What secret share of Her earth's monstrous power +May She not also grant to women's lives? +Yea, wise is our fear of women; but we fight +For more than fear; we give them liking too. +Who but the women can deliver us +From this continual siege of the wolves' hunger? +High above comfort, on the shrugging backs +Of downland, where the winds parch our skins, and frost +Kneads through our flesh until his fingers clamp +The aching bones, our scanty families +Hold out against the ravin of the wolves, +Fended by earthwork, fighting them with flint. +But if we keep the favour of our women, +They will breed sons to us so many and strong +We shall have numbers that will make us dare +Invade the weather-shelter'd woods, and build +Villages where now only wolves are denn'd; +Yea, to the beasts shall the man-folk become +Malice that haunts their ways, even as now +Our leaguer'd tribes must lurk and crouch afraid +Of wolfish malice always baying near. +And fires, stackt hugely high with timber, shall +With nightlong blaze make friendly the dark and cold, +Cheer our bodies, and roast great feasts of flesh,-- +Ah, to burn trunks of trees, not bracken and ling! +This is what women are to me,--a fear +Lest the earth-hidden Awe, who unseen gives +The childing to their flesh, should make their minds +As darkly able as their wombs, with power +To think sorceries over us; and hope +That with their breeding they will dispossess +The beasts of the good lowlands, until man, +No longer fled to the hills, inhabit all +The comfort of the earth. + +_Brys_. + These are mine too, +But as great rivers own the brook's young speed. +For in my soul, the women do not dwell +A torch going through darkness, with a troop +Of shadows gesturing after; but as the sun +Upon his height of golden blaze at noon, +With all the size of the blue air about him. +Fear that in women the unseen is seen +And the unknown power sits beside us known,-- +This fear is good, but better is than this +Their beauty, and the wells of joy in women. +I speak dumb words to thee; but know thou, Gast, +My soul is looking at the time to come, +And seeing it not as a cavern lit +With smoky burning brandons of thy fear, +But as a day shining with my new joy. +Thou canst not fight with me for the coming heart +Of man,--fear cannot fight with joy. And I +Am setting such a war of joy against thee, +It shall be as man's heart became a god +Murdering thy mind of weakling darkness. +All the hot happiness of being wroth +And seeing a stroke leave behind it wound, +The pleasures of wily hunting, and a feast +After long famine, and the dancing stored +Within the must of berries,--these, and all +Gladdenings that make thrill the being of man +Shall pour, mixt with an unknown rage of glee, +Into the meaning men shall find in women. +And if we have at all a fear of them, +It shall not be the old ignorant dismay, +But of their very potency to delight, +The way their looks make Will an enemy +Hating itself, shall men become afraid. +Women shall cause men know for why they have +Being in the earth;--not to be quailing slack +As if the whole world were a threat, but tuned +Ready for joy as harp-strings for the player. +And great desire of beauty and to be glad +Shall prompt our courages. Ha, what are those +Breaking from out the thickets? + +_Gast_. + Wolves! They come! +Brothers, the fiends are on us: have good hearts! +Ho for the women and their sacred wombs! + +_Brys_. +Ho for the women, their beauty and my pleasure! + + + + +VASHTI + + +I + +AHASUERUS AND VASHTI + +_Vashti_. +My lord requires me here. + +_Ahasuerus_. + Does Heaven see this? +Dare I have this one humble unto me? +Was it not enough, Stars, to have given me +This marriage? but you must persuade your God +To have me as well the greatest king beneath you! +Look you now if men grow not insolent +Because of me, a man so throned, so wived. +Yea, and in me insolent groweth my love; +For if the wheels of the careering world +Brake, felley and spoke, that, pitching on the road, +It spilt the driving godhead from his seat, +And the unreined team of hours riskily dragg'd +Their crippled duty,--if in that lurching world +Like jarred glass my power shattered about me, +And I were a head unking'd, 'twere but a game, +So I were left possessing thee, and that +Escape from Heaven, the beauty that goes with thee. +Here is an insolence! Hast thou not wonder'd, +Vashti, what gave thee into such a love, +That in the brain of me, the chosen king, +It is so loud, so insolent, thy love? +O this shrill sweet heart-mastering love! + +_Vashti_. + Alas, +Do I deserve that love?--But yes, I wonder; +For what am I that the king loveth me? +Lo, I am woman, thou art man, the lord; +Out of mere bounty are we loved of you, +And not for our deserving. We are to sit +In a high calm, and not go down and help +Among the toil, and choosing, chosen, find +Companionship therein. For thou, for man +Has such a treasure in his heart of love, +It must be squandered out in charity, +Not used as a gentle money to repay +Worth (as a woman spends her love). A trick +Of posture in a girl, and see the alms +Of generous love man will enrich her with! +Might there not be sometimes too much of alms +About his love? But we will blink at that. +Yet sometimes we are liked ashamed, to be +Taking so much love from you, all for naught. +Now therefore tell me, Man, my king, my master: +Lovest thou me, or dost thou rather love +The pleasure thou hast in me? This is not nice, +Believe me. They're more sundered, these two loves, +Than if all the braving seas marcht between them. + +_Ahasuerus_. +What, shrinking from thine own delightsomeness? +Hear then. Nature, so ordered from the God, +Has given strength to man and work to do, +But to woman gave that she should be delight +For man, else like an overdriven ox +Heart-broke. The world was made for man, but made +Wisely a steep difficulty to be climbed, +That he, so labouring the stubborn slant, +May step from off the world with a well-used courage, +All slouch disgrace fought out of him, a man +Well worthy of a Heaven. And this great part +Has woman in the work; that man, fordone +And wearied, may find lodging out of the noise +Upon her breast, and looking in her eyes +May wash in pools of kindness, fresh as Heaven, +The soil of sweat and trouble from his limbs; +And turning aside into this pleasant inn +Called woman, there is entertainment kept +For man, such that for cheating craftily +The stabled palter'd heart that it can pass +Through the world's grillage and be large as fate, +The sweet anxiety of reeded pipes +Is a mere thing to it. Like Heaven street +When the steel of God's army surges through it, +Bright anger burning on an errand of swords, +So is the sense of man when woman-joy +Pours through his flesh a throng of deity, +White clamorous flame; yea, desire of woman +Maketh the mind of more room for amazement +Than that blue loft hath for the light, more charged +With spiritual joy that goes in stress +As far as tears, with this more throbbingly charged +Than the starr'd night wept full of silver fires,-- +Dangerously endured, labours of joy! +Is it not virtuous, not powerful, this? +Wouldst thou have more? Man knows he can possess +Than woman's beauty nought more treasurable. +And high above our loud activities +We keep, pure as the dawn, the house of love, +Woman, wherein we entering leave outside +Our rank sweat-drenchèd weeds of toil, and there +Enjoy ourselves, out of the world, awhile. + +_Vashti (aside)_. +O yes, I know. Filthiness! Filthiness! + +_Ahasuerus_. +Now here have I been toiling under press +Of glory. Should I not stumble in my gait, +Were there no Vashti, and with her a welcome +I do not need to buy, since all she wants +Is that I love her? Going in unto her +I may unstrap my burdenous pack of kingship, +Shift me of reign, and escape my splendour. +Yea, and strange largeness in this power of love +For men too much limited! Now I am sick +Of knowing my greatness, now I want to be +Placed where my soul can feel vast room about me, +To be contained. Outside, among the men, +I am the room of the world; I and my rule +Contain the world; and I am sick thereof. +Vashti can remedy this; for here thy beauty +More spacious is for my senses to be in, +Than his own golden kingdom for the sun. + +_Vashti_. +Thine eyes are glad with me? I please the King? + +_Ahasuerus_. +Eyes? But there is no nerve thou takest not, +No way of my life thronging not with thee, +And my blood sounds at the story of thy beauty. +What thing shall be held up to woman's beauty? +Where are the bounds of it? Yea, what is all +The world, but an awning scaffolded amid +The waste perilous Eternity, to lodge +This Heaven-wander'd princess, woman's beauty? +The East and West kneel down to thee, the North +And South, and all for thee their shoulders bear +The load of fourfold place. As yellow morn +Runs on the slippery waves of the spread sea, +Thy feet are on the griefs and joys of men +That sheen to be thy causey. Out of tears, +Indeed, and blitheness, murder and lust and love, +Whatever has been passionate in clay, +Thy flesh was tempered. Behold in thy body +The yearnings of all men measured and told, +Insatiate endless agonies of desire +Given thy flesh, the meaning of thy shape! +What beauty is there, but thou makest it? +How is earth good to look on, woods and fields +The seasons' garden, and the courageous hills, +All this green raft of earth moored in the seas? +The manner of the sun to ride the air, +The stars God has imagined for the night? +What's this behind them, that we cannot near, +Secret still on the point of being blabbed, +The ghost in the world that flies from being named? +Where do they get their beauty from, all these? +They do but glaze a lantern lit for man, +And woman's beauty is the flame therein +Feeding on sacred oil, man's desire, +A golden flame possessing all the earth. +Or as a queen upon an embassage +From out some mountain-guarded far renown, +Brings caravans stockt from her slavish mines, +Her looms and forges, with a precious friendship; +So comest thou from the chambers of the stars +On thy famed visit unto man the king; +So bringing from the mints and shops of Heaven, +Where thou didst own labours of all the fates, +A shining traffic, all that man calls beauty: +There is no holding out for the heart of man +Against thee and such custom. O hard to be borne, +Often hard to be borne is woman's beauty!-- +And well I guess it does but cover up +Enmity, hanging falseness between our souls, +And buy at a dishonest price the mouth +True nature hath for thee, to speak thee fair. +Were not man's thought so gilded with thy beauty, +Woman, and caught in the desire of thee, +O, there'ld be hatred in his use of thee. +You should be thankful for your pleasantness! + +_Vashti_. +Yes, I am thankful. For I hope, my lord, +We women know our style. Ay, we are fooled +Sometimes with heady tampering thoughts, that come +To bother our submission, I confess. +We to ourselves have said, that when God took +The fierce beginning of the unwrought world +From out his fiery passion, and, breathing cool, +Tamed the wild molten being, with his hands +Fashion'd and workt the hot clay into world, +Then with green mercy quieted the land +And claspt it with the summer of blue seas, +With brooches of white spray along the shores,-- +It was to be an equal dwelling-place +For humans that he did it, into sex +Unknowably dividing human kind. +But wickedly we say this. God made man +For his delight and praise, and then made woman +For man's delight and praise, submiss to man. +Else wherefore sex? And it is better thus, +To be man's pleasure. What noble work is ours, +To have our bodies proper for your love, +The means of your delight! Ay, and minds too, +Sometimes; we think, we women think we know +What shape of mind pleases our masters best, +And that we build up in us. A tender shyness, +A coy reluctancy,--we use these well. +Man is our master; it is best for us +Persuading him line our captivity +With wool-soft love, lest it be bitter iron. + +_Ahasuerus_. +This is the marvel's head, that thou, so fair, +And loved by me, should keep so good a mind. +--They shall not see thee, when I display at large +The riches and the honour; I've enough +Possession, without thee, to stupify +The assembly of my men, my herd of kings. +I mean there shall not be a hint of doubt +About whose world this is. So I have bid, +From all the utter regions of my land, +The kings whom I allow to rule, who breathe +My air, to feast with me and for a while +Flatter their trivial lives with a brief relish +Of being king of the world's kings in Shushan. +Yea, and I will dismay their wits with splendour; +No noise shall be against me in the world. +I am more open, kinder than Lord God, +Who never shows how much he has of thunder; +Wherefore against him men presume, and go +Often out of his ways extravagant. +But all the fear I keep obedient by me +Now to the gather'd world I openly shew. +So God is spoken against, I am never, +And I have a better terror in the world; +And chiefly for the happiness built round me +Divinely firm. O all the kings, my men, +Shall fear this terrible happiness of mine! +But thee I will not shew; I'll have some wealth +Not public. I'll have no adulteries, +No eyes but mine enjoying thee. To me +The sight of thee, all as the touch of thee, +Belongeth, only my pleasure thou art: +None but my senses shall come unto thee, +And I will keep my pleasure pure as Heaven. +Happy art thou, Vashti, to have wedded +One who so dearly rates possession of thee. +Better it is to spend my heart on thee +Than on any of the women that I have. + + +II + +THE FEAST OF KINGS: MIDNIGHT + +_Ahasuerus_. +You kings, you thrones that burn about the world, +Whom yet I king, lifted higher above you +Than you are lifted up above your folks: +This is my day. I have agreed with Heaven, +My fellow in the fear of the world, to have +This day unshar'd; and it is all mine, +All that the Gods from baseless fires and steams +Have harden'd into the place and kind of the world: +The great high quiet journey of the stars, +And all the golden hours which the sun +Utters aloft in heaven;--the whole is mine +To fill with ceremonies of my throne. +This one day, I am where Heaven and I +Commonly stand together; you shall not have +Shelter from me in a worshipt God to-day, +Kings; look yonder at many-power'd night, +Telling her beauty to the sea and taking +The prone adoring waters into her blue +Desire, setting them as herself on flame +With perils of joy, lending them her achieved +Raptures, her white experiences of stars. +So shall your souls lie under me these hours; +As they were waters shall they be beneath +My burning, set alight with me, and none +Escape from utterly understanding me +And why I am so kindled in my soul. + Who has been like to me? My name travels +A hundred seven and twenty languages, +My name a ship upon them, trading fear. +My unseen power weighs upon the heads +Of nations, like the blown abasement given +By sedges when they are wretched to the wind. +Ay, and the farthest goings of the air +Can reach no land my taxes do not labour. +The fear of me is the conscience of the world. +Ahasuerus is a region large +As there is light upon the earth; when dawn +With golden duties celebrates the sun, +It does but serve to fetch the lives I own +Out of shadow flinching into the light,-- +Out of sleep's mercy the sore lives that know +Only a penal sun, that are so chapt +In winds of my sent spirit: I care not, I. +For as my flesh out of my father's joy +Came, fraught from him with hunger for like joy,-- +As, when roused ages of desire within me +Play with my blood as storms play with the sea, +And all my senses tug one way like sails, +My flesh obeys, and into that perilous dream, +Woman, exults;--so, but much more, my soul, +That had its faculties from far beyond +The tingling loam of flesh, obeys a need: +Conquest, and nations to enjoy with war. +For 'tis a need that rode down out of God +Upon my journeying soul into this world's +Affairs, like smouldering fire besiegers throw +Among a city's roofs, which cannot choose +But take blaze from the whole town's timber; so +My soul's desire for flame hath charred the world. +Till now, as the night full of perfect fires, +I, full of conquests, am large over you. +And you must be like waters underneath me, +Full of my burning; there's no more for me +Now, but to dwell alone in my still soul's +Hoarding of ecstasies, a great place of lusts +Achieved and shining fixt; for every man +Is mine, and every soil is mine, from here +Round to the furthest cliffs that steadfast are +To keep the hoofs of the sea from murdering +The tilled leagues of the land. And by the coasts +I am not kept. Far into the room of waters, +Into the blue middle of ocean's summer, +The white gait of my sea-going war invades. + I have a man here, one who makes with words, +And he shall be my messenger to your hearts. +Not to make much of me; but he's the speech +Of Spirit,--I the dangerous exultation, +The Spirit's sacred joy in wrath against +The heaps of its own spent kinds, melting anew +To found in another image of itself. +He is the man to shew you, withinside +The flashing and exclaim of my great moving +About the places of the world; within +The heat of my pleasure that has molten down, +Like ingots in a furnace, all your nations +Into my likeness treading on the earth; +Within the smokes that make your eyes pour grief, +This gleam of infinite purpose quietly nested,-- +That I am given the world, and that my pleasure +Is plain the latest word spoken by God. +So while our senses go among these wines, +Wander in green deliciousness and crimson, +And fragrance searches the else-unsearchable brain, +Poet, tell out the glory of the king. + +_The Poet_. +The glory of the king of all the kings.-- +You with the golden power on your brows, +You kings, I think you know not what you are. +First you shall learn yourselves: for neither light +Understandeth itself, nor darkness light. +You see your glory; but you cannot see +That which your glory conquers; and the peoples +Know nought but that the glooming of their night +Maketh a shining scope for crowns, as he, +Even as he, your king, Ahasuerus, +Maketh your splendour a darkness for his light. +But I, neither belonging to the kings +Nor to the people, only I may know +The golden fortune of light anointing kings. +Come with me now, and take my vision awhile. + The people of this world are misery. +What doth Man here? How thinketh God on him? +Surely he was sent here as if thereby +God might forget him. Like infamous desire +A wise heart puts aside, which yet remains +A secret hated memory, man was +In God, and is vainly discarded here. +I see him coming here; I see man's life +Falling into this base and desert ground, +This world that seems an evil riddance thrown +Down by the winds of God's swift purposes; +Some shame of grossness, that would cling upon +The errand of their holy speed, and here +Heapt up and strewn into the place wherein +The mind and being of man wander darkly. +Behold him coming here!--Against my sight, +Warning aback the gleam of sacred heaven, +Is vast forbiddance raised; creatures like hills, +Or darkness surging at the coasts of light, +Stand, a great barricade behind our lives, +Rankt as Eternity had put on stature. +The sharp sides of the peaks are finger'd white +With flame, lit by the fires of God beyond; +The rest is night; the whole people of dark hills +A front of high impenetrable doom. +But lo! +Black in the blackness, is a yawn in the doom, +And out of it flows the kind of man. Behold, +It is a river, through the permission sent +As through a snarling breakage in a cliff; +Turned like a hated thing away from God; +Spat out, the water of man's life, to spill +Down bleak gullies, and thrid the gangways dark +Through the reluctant hills, pouring as if +It knew God were ashamed of it. And thence, +Rejected down the abhorring steeps, man's life +Is wasted in this country, set to run +A blind, ignorant, unremembered course, +Treading with hopeless feet of griev'd waters +Unending unblest spaces, the shameful road +Of dirt thickening into slime its flow, +An insane weather driving. For at the issue, +Hovering mightily fledge to beat it on, +A climate of demon's wings o'erarches man, +The hatred God has sent pursuing him. +Fierce hawking spirits wrong him, hungry Cold, +Crazes of Fear and sickening Want, and huge +Injurious Darkness, lord of the bad wings +That pester all the places beyond God,-- +These at the door, with lust to embody themselves, +Wait for the naked journey of man's life +To seize it into ache, ravenously. +They never leave, down all its patient way, +To meddle with its waters, till they be sour +As venom, salt as weeping, foully ailing +With foreign evil,--all the sort of desires +Whoring the shuddering life unto their lust. +Behold man's river now; it has travelled far +From that divine loathing, and it is made +One with the two main fiends, the Dark and Cold, +The faithful lovers of mankind. Behold, +Broad it is now become, a plenteous water, +A roomy tide. And lo, what oars are these? +To sweet sung measure rows what happy fleet, +With at the lifted prows banners of flame, +Bravely scaring the darkness to betray +The black embarasst flood sheared by the stems? +Behold, at last God for man's misery +Hath found excuse! Behold his wretchedness +Gilded at last with beauty pleasant to God! +No longer a useless grief is man's life now; +For floating on it, for enjoying it, +A state of barges goes, the state of kings. +They bring a day with them of many lamps, +And as they move, on the black slabbèd waters +Red wounds, and green, and golden, do they shoot +About them, beautiful cruelty of light; +And they throw music over the sounding river. +I too am walking on the sea of man; +I watch your singing and your lamps row past; +And under me I hear the river speaking, +The great blind water moaning to itself +For sorrow it was made. But in your blithe ships +Silverly chained with luxury of tune +Your senses lie, in a delicious gaol +Of harmony, hours of string'd enchantment. +Or if you wake your ears for the river's voice, +You hear the chime of fawning lipping water, +Trodden to chattering falsehood by the keels +Of kings' happiness. And what is it to you, +When strangely shudders the fabric of your navy +To feel the thrilling tide beneath it grieving; +Or when its timber drinks the river's mood, +The mighty mood of man's Despair, which runs +Like subtle electric blood through all the hulls, +And tips each masthead with a glimmering candle +Blue pale and flickering like a ghost? For you +Are too much lit to mark a corposant. +Nor yours the stale smell of the unhealthful stream, +Clotted with mud and sullen with its weeds, +Who carry your own air with you, blest sweet +And drencht with many scattered fragrances. +You, sailing in golden ignorance, know not +The anxious flow of life under your way: +Do you not miss half the wonder of you?-- +That so your happiness in the thought of God +Stands, that he open'd man's expense of grief +To give your oars unscrupulous room, to be +The buoyancy of your delighted barges, +Sliding with fortunate lanterns and with tunes +And odorous holiday, O kings, O you +The pleasure of God, richly, joyously launcht +On this kind sea, the tame sorrow of Man? +You need poets to reckon your marvellousness---- + +_Ahasuerus_. +Where is he driving? I set thee not to this; +It was to tell what I, not what they, be. + +_Poet_. +How can they know what thou art, if not first +I tell them what they are themselves, my king? + +_Ahasuerus_. +Thou hast a night, man, not a week to tell them. +You men of words, dealers in breath, conceit +Too bravely of yourselves;--O I know why +You love to make man's life a villainous thing, +And pose his happiness with heavy words. +You mean to puff your craft into a likeness +Of what hath been in the great days of the Gods. +When Tiamat, the old foul worm from hell, +Lay coiled and nested in the unmade world, +All the loose stuff dragg'd with her rummaging tail +And packt about her belly in a form, +Where she could hutch herself and bark at Heaven,-- +The god's bright soldier, Bel, fashioned a wind; +And when her jaws began her whining rage +Against him, into her guts he shot the wind +And rent the membranes of her life. So you +Wordmongers would be Bel to the life of man. +You like not that his will should heap the world +About him in a fumbled den of toil; +And set the strength of his spirit, not to joy, +But to laborious money; so you stand forth +And think with spoken wind to make such stir +And rumble in the inwards of man's life, +That he in a noble colic will leap up +Out of his cave of work and breathe sweet air. +You will not do it: man prefers his den. +Now leave mankind alone and sing of me. + +_Poet_. +So; I will tell thy glory now aright. +I will not make it thy chief wonder, King, +That thou hast tied the world upon a rack; +Or that thy armies be so huge, the earth +Sways like a bridge of planks beneath their march, +And leagues about their way out of the ground +Like thunder comes the rumour of thy vengeance. +These be but shows of kingship; but one thing +Exclaims, inevitably as a word +Announced by God, thee first of the world's souls,-- +That thou mayst have in thy arms Vashti the Queen.-- +Princes, what looks are these? +Why are your minds astonisht so unwisely? +What, think you war the thing, or pompous fame? +See if I speak not truth of love and woman. + You will have heard how lightning's struck a man, +Shepherd or wayfarer, and when they found +The branded corpse, the rayment was torn off, +Blown into tatters and strewn wide by that +Withering death, and he birth-naked stretcht: +Bethink you, is not that now very like +How woman smites your souls? Whatever dress +Of thought you take to royalize your nature,-- +Gorgeous shawls of kingship, a world's fear, +Or ample weavings of imagination, +Or the spun light of wisdom,--like a gust +Of flame, that weather of impersonal thought +You strut beneath, that hanging storm of Love, +Strikes down a terrible swift dazzling finger, +Sight of some woman, on your clothèd hearts, +And plucks the winding folly off, and leaves +Bare nature there. And hear another likeness. +Look, if the priests have made an altar-fire, +They can have any flame they list, as gums +Sprinkle the fluel, or salts, or curious earths,-- +Tawny or purple, green, scarlet, or blue, +Or moted with an upward rain of sparks; +But first there must be air, or else no fire: +Man's being is a fire lit unto God, +And many thoughts colour the sacred flame; +But the air for him, the draught wherein he glows, +The breathing spirit that has turned mere life +Into the hot vehement being of man +Lambent upon the altar of the world, +Is woman and desire of her, nought else. +Behold, we know not what we do at all +When we love women: is it we who love, +Or Destiny rather visiting our souls +In passion?--How shall I name thee what thou art, +Woman, thou dream of man's desire that God +Caught out of man's first sleep and fashioned real? +Deliverance art thou from his own strait thought, +Wind come from beyond the stars +To blow away like mist all the disgrace +Of reasonable bars, +The forgery of time and place, +Whereinto soul was narrowly brought +When it was gridded close behind +The workings of man's mind. +But Woman comes to bless +With an immoderateness, +With a divine excess, +Lust of life and yearn of flesh, +Till there seems naught hindering our souls: +Else we should crawl along the years +Labour'd with measurable joys +No greater than our life, +Things carefully devised against tears; +And as snails harden their sweat +To brittle safety, a carried shell, +So we might build out of our woe of toil +Serious delight. +But to see and hear and touch Woman +Breaks our shell of this accursed world, +And turns our measured days to measureless gleam. +Up in a sudden burning flares +The dark tent of nature pitched about our souls; +And light, like a stound of golden din, +A shadowless light like weather of infinite plains, +Light not narrowed into place, +Amazes the naked nerves of the soul; +And like the pouring of immortal airs +Out of a flowery season, +Over us blows the inordinate desire.-- + Ah, who from Hell did the wisdom bring +That would make life a formal thing? +Who has invented all the manner and wont, +The customary ways, +That harness into evil scales +Of malady our living? +But how they shrivel and craze +If love but glance on them! +And as a bowl of glass to shattering +Shivers at a sounding string, +The brittle glittering self of man +At beauty of Woman throbs apieces, +And seems into Eternity spilled +The being it contained. +Let it touch Woman and flesh becomes +Finer and more thrilled +Than air contrived in tune, +Lighter round the soul +Than flame is round burning. +She is God's bribery to man +That he the world endure, +His wage for carrying the weight of being. +Nay, she is rather the eternal lure +Out of form and things that end, +Out of all the starry snares, +Out of the trap of years, +Into measureless desire; +Lest man be satisfied with mind,-- +Be never stung into self-hate +At crouching always in the crate +Of prudent knowledge round him wrought, +And so grow small as his own thought. + Kings, think of the woman's body you love best +How the beloved lines twin and merge, +Go into rhyme and differ, swerve and kiss, +Relent to hollows or like yearning pout,-- +Curves that come to wondrous doubt +Or smooth into simplicities; +Like a skill of married tunes +Curdled out of the air; +How it is all sung delivering magic +To your pent hamper'd souls! +I tell you, kings, yours are but stammer'd songs +To that enchantment fashion'd for him, +That ceremony of life's powers, +The loveliness of Vashti; +That unbelievable worship made +For King Ahasuerus. +He to whom the loveliest she is given, +Least is bound to ended things, +Belongeth most on earth to Heaven; +Hath the whitest wind of flame +To burn his soul clean of the world, +Clean of mortal imaginings, +And back to the Beauty whence he came. +Now you hear the glory of the king of kings, +That he knows Vashti, that he lives +In this pleasure always. +Ah, could you see her! But perhaps she is +Too fearful in her beauty for most men. +I think she would dismay you, and unhitch +The sinews from their purchase on your bones, +And have you spelled as a wizard spells his ghosts. +Yet 'twould be mercy so to harm your sense. +The truth does not more wonderfully walk, +Whose gestures are the stars, than in her ways +This queen's body sways. +And there is such language in her hair +As the sun's self doth talk. +King, let them see her! lest they return unwise +Of thy true kingship, and among themselves +Imagine that they are even as thou, +Save in the height of throne. Let them perceive +That, having Vashti, there is none like thee: +Others are men; but thou art he whose spirit +Is station'd in the beauty of the queen, +Whose flesh knows such amazement as before +Never beneath the lintels of man's sense +Came, an especial messenger from Heaven. + +_Ahasuerus_. +Bring her! let the Queen come crowned before us! +Slaves, fetch here all your light to shine upon +My Vashti's beauty; let there be clear floor; +Make the air worthy her with camphire lit +And frankincense; and fill the hall with flames. +Then gaze, kings, and stare, hunger with your eyes +Upon her face; but within brakes of fear +Fasten your wills, and move not from your seats. +Exult, you thron'd nations, that to your sight +She shall be lent, the pleasure of the king, +She whom to visit so inflames my soul, +That I can judge how God burns to enjoy +The beauty of the Wisdom that he made +And separated from himself to be +Wife to the divine act, mother of heavens.-- +Let Vashti come and stand before the kings! + + +III + +VASHTI AND THE KING'S WOMEN AT THEIR FEAST + +_1st Woman_. +Queen, is it well to be so sorrowful? + +_2nd Woman_. +And when the King our lord spendeth on us +This festival out of his rich heart, to shoot +Thy looks upon us as thou wouldst rebuke us? + +_Vashti_. +Your pardon: do I trouble your greed? + +_1st Woman_. + Our greed? +Rather our gratitude---- + +_2nd Woman_. + That we have share +In these devices of the King's own cooks, +These costly breads,-- + +_1st Woman_. + And these delicious meats, +These sauces mixt of spicy treacle and balm. + +_3rd Woman_. +And wines, purple and blue and like gold fire, +Made of the colours of the morning sea +And fragrance wild as woman's need of love. + +_Vashti_. +Enjoy them then: who lets you? + +_3rd Woman_. + Thou dost, Queen. +Thou sittest with hands folded in thy robe, +And in the midst of delicacies wilt fast. + +_1st Woman_. +We see thine eyes upon them as they were +Wickedness. + +_2nd Woman_. + 'Tis rare bounty that we women +Halve with the King his festival. + +_3rd Woman_. + And thou, +It seems, scarce findest it thankworthy. + +_Vashti_. + Again, +Your pardon: but ye need not gaze on me.-- +And yet, why am I sorrowful? In truth, +Is it a sorrow that so leans upon me? +I know not. But my soul knoweth right well +That I am watched. + +_3rd Woman_. + Then in thy conscience, Queen, +Thou feelest the King requiring thanks of thee. + +_Vashti_. +Be careful of thy tongue,--and of the wine.-- +Who watches me? Eyes are fixt on my soul, +Eyes of desire. I think some great event +Hath pusht its spirit forward of its time, +To stand here quietly waiting, into my mind +Inflicting its strange want of me, and ready +To fetch my heart, and ready to take my hand +And lead me away shrinking: is it Death? +It is some marvellous thing: for I know surely +Behind it crowd out of their discipline +The coming hours to watch me seized, and stare +With questioning brows on me, and lift lean hands +From under gowns of shadow to point me out +One to another, saying: "This is she: +How will she bear it, think ye?"--Is it not cold? +Was there not wind just then?--The flames are steady. + +_1st Woman_. +No wind at all: the air's like one closed room. + +_2nd Woman_. +There is no talk like this at the King's feast, +I warrant. Were we not best be merry, +And thank the King so for these wines and sweets? + +_Vashti_. +Yes, let us not forget our thankfulness; +For is not, sisters, everything we have +Mere gift? + +_2nd Woman_. + My beauty pays for what I get. + +_Vashti_. +I would, 'twere not so. + +_2nd Woman_. + Queen, I doubt thee not. + +_Vashti_. +Pert little fool, where lies thy beauty, then? +Thou hast it not: its place is not thy flesh, +But the delighting loins of men, there only. +Thy beauty! And thou knowest not that man +Hath forged in his furnace of desire our beauty +Into that chain of law which binds our lives-- +Man, please thyself, and woman, please thou man. +But thou wilt have thy beauty pence, thou sayest? +And what's thy purchase? Listen, I will tell thee: +Just that thou art not whipt and drudged: the rest, +All that thou hast beyond, is gift. + +_2nd Woman_. + Why not? + +_Vashti_. +Truly, for thee, why not? + +_2nd Woman_. + Wouldst thou, 'twere yours? + +_1st Woman_. +Thou shudderest again; what ails thee, Queen? + +_Vashti_. +I would have lived in beauty once. + +_2nd Woman_. + In whose? + +_Vashti_. +I know the King finds relish in thy looks, +Wench, and I have no care to grudge thy pride; +But when thy face is named throughout the world +For wonder, I will bear thy impudence. + +_1st Woman_. +But tell us, Queen, thy thought; for we have made +An end almost of eating; and it seems +It will be somewhat strange, pleasing our mood. + +_Vashti_. +Strange you will find it doubtless; but scarce pleasing, +Unless 'tis pleasing to have news of danger. +Listen! your lives are propt like a rotten house. +Your souls, that should have noble lodging here, +Have crept like peasants into huts that have +No force within their walls, but must be shored +With borrowed firmness. Yea, man's stubborn lust +To feed his heart upon your beauty, is all +The strength your lives have, all that holdeth you +Safe in the world,--propt like a rotten house. + +_1st Woman_. +Shall woman then not love to have man's love? + +_3rd Woman_. +To feed his heart on us, thou sayest? O yea! +And how can a woman know such might of living +As when upon her breast she feels the man, +The man of her desire, like sacrament +Feeding his heart, yea and his soul, on her? + +_Vashti_. +Are we for nought but so to nourish him? + +_3rd Woman_. +Thou art too proud, O Queen, too proud and lonely, +And goest apart to have thy thought too much. +'Tis known, too much thought dazes oft a mind, +Till it can learn nought of the signèd evil +God hath put in the faces of evil notions, +That spiritual sight may ken them coming +Sly and demure, and safely shut the brain +Ere they be in and swell themselves to lordship. +Hence is it that an evil thought in thee +Hath dared so far, and played its wickedness +Strangely within thee, braving even into speech. + +_1st Woman_. +Strangely indeed thy brain's inhabited. +What, is there aught prosperity for woman +But to be shining in the thought of man? + +_Vashti_. +I wisht to prosper in the life I had, +That the Gods might approve the flourishing +Their heavenly graft of soul took from my flesh. +Therefore I wisht to love. And I did love.-- +There came Ahasuerus conquering +Into my father's land. My fancying hate +Had made a man-beast of him, a thing, like man, +Tall in his walk, but in the mood of his eyes +A beast, and in the noise of his mouth a beast. +He came, and lookt at me; and, in a while, +I saw that he was speaking to me there. +And all the maiden went in me before him, +Swifter than in a moon which looks against +The morning, all the silver courage fails.-- +How cam'st thou to the King? + +_1st Woman_. + Sold to him, I. + +_2nd Woman_. +Bought by him, I: for he had heard of me. + +_Vashti_. +I also, sold or bought; nay, rather paid: +Paid like cash to him, that as servant king +My father might have life, and a throne in life. +It mattered nothing then. [_The_ QUEEN _pauses_. +Often in early summer, as I walkt +A girl singing her happiness, beside +The high green corn, holding all earth my own, +I saw, as my feet and my voice past by, +How in its hiding some croucht little beast +Startled, and filled a space of the gentle corn +With plunging quivering fear. And always then +My heart answer'd the fear that shook the corn, +With a sudden doubt in its beating; for I knew +Within my life such rousing of dismay +I myself should watch, with seizing wonder. +It was so: in the midst of my new love, +That promist such a plenty in my soul, +At last some sleeping terror leapt awake, +And made the young growth shiver and wry about +Inwardly tormented. Yea, and my heart +It was, my heart in its hiding of green love, +That took so wildly the approaching sound +Of something strangely fearful walking near. + +_3rd Woman_. +A queer tale, this. + +_1st Woman_. + A spectre visited you? + +_Vashti_. +Indeed, a spectre. + +_1st Woman_. + That have I never seen. +Was it the kind with nose and mouth grown sharp +To an eagle's bill, and claws upon its fingers, +The curve of them pasted with a bloody glue? + +_Vashti_. +The spectre was--my beauty. + +_3rd Woman_. + It is as I said. +O Queen, send for a wise man in the morning; +And let him leech thy spirit. + +_4th Woman_. + I've heard, the best +Riddance for evil notions in the mind, +Is for a toad to sit upon the tongue; +While, breathed against the scalp, some power of spells +Loosens the clasp the notion hath digg'd deep +Into the soul; so that it passeth down, +Shaken and mastered, and creeps into the toad,-- + +_3rd Woman_. +Which gives a foolish kick or start to feel it,-- + +_4th Woman_. +Then the trapt notion may be easily burnt. + +_Vashti_. +Yea?--I think mine would not burn easily. +With fire, with such indignant fire as pride +Yields, when it must destroy itself to feel +The power of the world touch it with humbling flame,-- +With such a fire, whose heat you know not of, +Have I assayed this--notion, didst thou say? +And it stood upright, with its shape unquencht, +And lived within the fire. + +_3rd Woman_. + Thou hast it wrong. + +_4th Woman_. +Thou hast not understood the cure we meant. + +_2nd Woman_. +Stop brabbling, fools; I would hear the Queen's mind. + +_1st Woman_. +I too; I hate a thing I cannot skill; +And thee and all that lives in thee, O Queen, +I would keep friendly to my spirit; yet +I do suspect something amazing in thee. + +_Vashti_. +And if thou seest not how slippery +Is women's place in the world of men, 'tis like +Thou wilt amazedly the vision take, +When I have led thee up my tower of thought. + +_2nd Woman_. +How are we dangerous? Are we not women, +Man's endless need? + +_Vashti_. + Ay, and therein the danger! +Is it not possible he hate the need? +For not as he were a beast it urges him: +He is aware of it, he knows its force,-- +The kind of beasts is in their blood alone, +But man is blood and spirit. And in him, +As in all creature, is the word from God, +"Utter thyself in joy." + +_2nd Woman_. + And we his joy. + +_Vashti_. +But such an one that may become, perhaps, +Something not utterance, but strict commanding, +Yea, mastery, like the dancing in the blood +Of one bitten by spiders. And it is Spirit, +Spirit enjoying woman, that hath sent +A beating poison in the blood of man, +The poison which is lust. Spirit was given +To use life as a sense for ecstasy; +Life mixt with Spirit must exult beyond +Sex-madden'd men and sex-serving women, +Into some rapture where sweet fleshly love +Is as the air wherein a music rings. +But blood hath captured Spirit; Spirit hath given +The strength of its desire of joy to make +What ecstasy it may of woman's beauty, +And of this only, doing no more than train +The joys of blood to be more keen and cunning; +As men have trained and tamed wild lives of the forests, +Breeding them to more excellent shape and size +And tireless speed, and to know the words of men. +So the wise masterful Spirit rules the joys +That come all fierce from roaming the dark blood; +They are broken to his desire, they are wily for him, +A pack of lusts wherewith the Spirit hunts +Pleasure; and the chief prey the pleasure hid +In woman. + +_1st Woman_. + What joys are these? + +_Vashti_. + What joys? +The joys of rutting beasts, tamed to endure, +Tamed to be always swift to answer Spirit, +Yet fiercer for their taming, wilder hungers; +So that the Spirit, if he hunt them not, +Fears to be torn by them in mutiny. +Now know you woman's beauty! 'Tis these joys, +The heat of the blood's desires, changed and mastered +By the desire of spirit, trained to serve +Spirit with lust, spirit with woman enjoy'd. + +_2nd Woman_. +Queen, I am beautiful, and cannot boast +Thy subtle thinking; and to one like me, +What matters whence come beauty, so I have it? +Let it be but the witless mating of beasts, +Tamed and curiously knowing itself +And cunning in its own delight: What then? +The nightingale desires his little lass, +And that brings out of his heart a radiant song; +A man desires a woman, and for song +Out of his heart comes beauty, that like flame +Reaches towards her, and covers her limbs with light. +If it so please thee, say that neither loves +Aught but his life's desire, fashioning it +Adorably to marvellous song and beauty. +What then? Enough that the wonder lights on me, +To me is paid the worship of the wonder. + +_Vashti_. +O well I know how strong we are in man; +His senses have our beauty for their god, +And his delight is built about us like +Towering adoration, housing worship.-- +The spirit of man may dwell in God: the world, +From the soft delicate floor of grass to those +Rafters of light and hanging cloths of stars, +Is but the honour in God's mind for man, +Wrought into glorious imagination. +But women dwell in man; our temple is +The honour of man's sensual ecstasy, +Our safety the imagined sacredness +Fashion'd about us, fashion'd of his pleasure. +Beauty hath done this for us, and so made +Woman a kind within the kind of man. +Yea, there is more than this: a mighty need +Hath man made of his woman in the world. +Now man walks through his fate in fellowship +Of two companion spirits; ay, and these +With double mastery go on with him. +The one in black disgraceful weeds is Toil; +She sows with never-ending gesture all +The path before his feet, cursing the way +She drags him on with growth of flouting crops, +Urchin thistles, and rank flourishing nettles. +But the other has a wear of woven gleam, +And with soft hand beseeches him his face +Away from the hardships of his hurt stung feet, +That with his eyes he may desire her looks: +And she is Beauty of Woman, man's dear blessing. +And if you would be wise, be well afraid +To think you have more office than to be +A sweet delicious while amid man's hours +Of worldly labour: we are too precious, so. +Yet see you not how this that Spirit hath done +Is also dangerous?--For there are mightier needs! +There's no content for Spirit in the world +Till he has striven out of bounded fate, +And sent an infinite desire forth +Into the whole eternity of things. +Yea, spirit ails with loathing secretly +The irremediable force of being; +Unless, with free expatiate desire, +He shape into the endless burning flux +Of starry world blindly adventuring +Some steady righteous destiny for Spirit: +Even as dreaming brain fashions the fume +Of life asleep to marshall'd imagery. +But we are in the way of this: and man, +The more he needs to announce upon the world, +Over him going like a storming air, +That fashioning word which utters the divine +Imagination working in him like anger; +The more he finds his virtue caught and clogged +In the fierce luxury he hath made of woman. +Thence are we sin, thence deliciously +Persuading man refuse his highest ardour. +Too easily kindled was the ecstasy +Of fleshly passion, with a joyous flame +Too readily answering the Spirit's fire! +He burns with us alone, so fragrantly +His noblest vigour swoons delighted. Yea, +Women, I tell you, not far now is man +From hating us, so passionate the joy +Of loving us, so mightily drawing down +Into the service of his pleasure here +All forces of his being. The pleasure soon +Becomes a shame, scarce to be spoken aloud; +And in best minds, either detested doting +Man's joy in woman's beauty will become; +Or a strict binding fire, holding him down +In lust of beauty where no beauty is. + + [_The_ KING'S MESSENGER _comes in_. + +_Messenger_. +To Vashti, to the Queen of the world, to her +In whom the striving beauty of the world +Hath made perfection, from the King I come. +And the King bids me say, Rise from thy feast; +For thou must be to-night thyself a feast: +The vision of thy loveliness must now +Feed with astonishment my vassals' hearts. +Therefore thou art to come. + +_Vashti_. + And tell the King +I will not come. + +_Messenger_. + What was there in my words +Thou dost not understand?--I say, the King +Would show thy beauty to his under-kings, +That with this also they may be amazed +And utterly fear his fortune. + +_Vashti_. + So. Go back, +Tell the King I have hearkened to his message, +And tell him I will not come. + +_Messenger_. +What sickness shall I say has lighted on thee, +So that thou canst not come? + +_Vashti_. + Thou weariest me. +Say this to the King, Vashti will not come. +Are they not plain, my words? Canst thou not learn +them? + +_Messenger_. +Give me some softer speech. Must I not fear +I shall earn whipping if I take these words? + +_Vashti_. +I pray thee, go. Thou art a trouble here; +Seest thou not how all these feasting women +Pause, and the pleasure is distrest in them? +Thou hast thy message: say, She will not come.-- +Back to the King, now! + +_Messenger_. + I am whipt for this. + + [_He goes_. + +_Vashti_. +It seems, my sisters, we have changed our moods. +But now, my mind was heavy, you were blithe; +And in a moment, you, behold, are fixt +Gazing like desperate things, while I rejoice. + +_1st Woman_. +Rejoice! thou dost rejoice? then madness does. + +_Vashti_. +I know not that: but certainly I know +A mind, that has been feeling for long time +The greatness of some hovering event +Poised over life, will rejoice marvellously +When the event falls, suddenly seizing life: +Like faintness when a thunderstorm comes down, +That turns to exulting when the lightning flares, +Shattering houses, making men afraid. +And this is my event: I am its choice. +Yea, not as a storm, but as an eagle now +It stoops on me; and, though I am its prey, +I am lifted by majestic wings, my soul +Is clothed in swiftness of a mighty soaring. + +_3rd Woman_. +What glory can her wondrous eyes behold? + +_4th Woman_. +Seemeth her flesh to glow! and her throat pants +As one who feels a god within her, come +Out of his heaven to enjoy her. + +_2nd Woman_. + Ay, +Now it is true, the Queen is beautiful; +She could, so looking, enrage love in one +Whose blood a hundred years had frozen dry. + +_1st Woman_. +Ah, but I fear thee, Queen: this dreadful mood +Will break the pleasantness of friendship thou +Hast kept for me, as a ship in a gale is broken. + +_Vashti_. +Ay, very like: and the event will rouse +Such work in the water where your comfort sails, +More than my fortune will to pieces blow; +You too I think will get some perilous tossing +From what proves my destruction. + +_2nd Woman_. + And, so knowing, +For mere insane delight in violent things, +Wilt thou awake in the fickle mood of men +Again that ancient ignominy which once, +Till beauty freed them, loaded the souls of women? + +_3rd Woman_. +Truly, long time will work what now thou doest. + +_Vashti_. +I know not rightly what I here begin; +No more than one, who stands in midst of wind +On a tall mountain, knows what breaking down +The earth must have ere the wind's speed is done, +And it hath drawn out of the drenched soil +The clinging vapours, and made bright the air. + +_2nd Woman_. +But we'll not have thee disobedient. +The King's mind is a summer over us; +Thou with a storm wilt fill him, and the hail +That shatters thee will leave us bruised and weeping. + +_Vashti_. +Be sulky in his arms: the weather soon +Will pleasantly favour thee again. + +_4th Woman_. + No, no; +Not because from our heaven of man's mind +Thou wilt bring down on us a rain of scorn, +But because thou art wicked, thou must go +And tell the King the wine was rash in thee. + +_Vashti_. +I must! + +_3rd Woman_. + Thou must indeed: words such as thine +Never were impudent in men's ears before. + +_2nd Woman_. +We will not have thee disobedient. + +_1st Woman_. +Here comes another: gentle words, my Queen, +Let him take from thee now, and swiftly follow +Contrite, and let the beauty of thy grief +Bend pleading against the King's furious eyes. + + [_The_ POET _comes in, and kneels_. + +_Poet_. +I will not ask thee what strange anger sent +That blaze of proud contempt in the King's face: +But ere the voice of the King seals up thy life +In an unalterable judgment, I +Am granted now to come as his last message: +And, as I will, to speak. Here then I am +Not as commanding, but on my knees beseeching, +And for myself beseeching. + +_Vashti_. + What hast thou +To do with this? and wherefore wert thou chosen? + +_Poet_. +I was to praise the splendour of the King; +And I made thee his splendour; and the King, +Knowing my truth, would have thee brought, to break +All the pride of his under-kings, already +Desperate with his riches, and now seeing +What marvellous fortune also hath his love, +How marvellously delighted. + +_Vashti_. + Get thee back: +And tell the King 'tis time his judgment fell. + +_Poet_. +Not till thou hearest me. + +_Vashti_. + I will not hear thee. +Wouldst thou go on before me, and say, Look, +This is the woman which I told you of, +You kings; does she not, as I said, stir up +Quaking desire through all your muscles? Look, +And thank the King for showing you his lust!-- +I will not hear thee. + +_Poet_. + Dost thou not know, my Queen, +That, when I taught thee songs, thou taughtest me +The divine secret, Beauty? My small tunes +Were games to thee; but now I am he who knows +How man may walk upon Eternity +Wearing the world as a god wears his power, +The world upon him as a burning garment; +For I am he whose spirit knoweth beauty,-- +And thou art the knowledge, Queen! Therefore thou must +Come with me to the kings of all the nations; +For the whole earth must know of thee. These kings, +Though it be but a lightning-moment struck +Upon the darkness of their ignorant hearts, +Must know what I know; that there is a beauty, +Only in thee shown forth in bodily sign, +Which can of life make such triumphant glee, +The force of the world seems but man's spirit utter'd. + +_Vashti_. +And what am I to know?--This must, no doubt, +Content me, that we are as wine, and men +By us have senses drunk against his toil +Of knowing himself, for all his boasting mind, +Caught by the quiet purpose of the world, +Burnt up by it at last, like something fallen +In molten iron streaming. But I know +Not drunken may man's soul master his world; +And I now make for woman a new mood, +Wherein she will not bear to know herself +A heady drug for man.--I will not come. + +_Poet_. +I, who have brought thy insult on the King, +Will scarce escape his judgment. But not this +My pleading. Seest thou not how wonderfully +The mean affairs of living fill with gleam, +Like pools of water lying in the sun, +Because above men's minds renown of thee, +The certain knowledge of beauty, now presides? +It must not be that thou, for a whim of scorn, +Wilt let thyself be made unseen, unheard of. +Beauty is known in thee; but, without thee, +It is a rumour buzzing hardly heard. +And without beauty men are scurrying ants, +Rapid in endless purpose unenjoyed; +Or newts in holes under the banks of ponds, +Feeding and breeding without sound or light. +For the one thing that is the god in man +Is a delight that admirably knows +Itself delighted; and it is but beauty. +And thou art beauty known. + +_Vashti_. + Truly, I say, +I know not how to bear it; that for you +To feel yourselves, though in the depth of the world, +Dizzy, and thence as if elate on high, +We women are devised like drunkenness. +And what are we to make of ourselves here, +When in the joy of us you think the world +No more than your spirits crying out for joy? +Is this your love, to dream a god of man, +And women to keep as wine to make you dream?-- +Now, back! or the eunuchs handle thee. + + [_He goes_. + +_Vashti_. +You will not hear of me after this night, +And thus I say farewell. It may be, far +In time not yet appointed, our life's spirit +Will know its fate, through all the thickets of grief, +As simply and as gladly as one's eyes +Greet the blue weather shining behind trees. +Yea, and I think there will be more than this: +Is not the world a terrible thing, a vision +Of fierce divinity that cares not for us? +Do we not seem immortal good desire, +Mortally wronged by capture in swift being +Made of a world that holds us firm for ever? +And yet is it not beautiful, the world? +How read you that? How is our wrong delightful? +Thus it is: Spirit finding the world fair, +Is spirit in dim perception of its own +Radiant desire piercing the worldly shadow. +But what is dim will become glorious clear: +All in a splendour will the Spirit at last +Stand in the world, for all will be naught else +But Spirit's own perfect knowledge of itself; +Yea, this dark mighty seeming of the world +Is but the Spirit's own power unsubdued; +And as the unruled vigours of thought in sleep +Crowd on the brain, and become dream therein; +So the strange outer forces of man's spirit +Are the appearing world. But all at last, +Subdued, becomes self-knowing ecstasy, +The whole world brightens into Spirit's desire. +This is for Spirit to be lord of life; +And man, with foolish hope looking for this, +Takes the ravishing drunkenness he hath +From us, for knowledge of the Spirit's power. +But it will come by love. It will be twain +Who go together to this height of mastery +Over the world, governing it as song +Is govern'd by the heart of him who sings; +But never one by means of one shall reach it: +Not man alone, nor woman alone, but each +Enabling each, together, twain in one. + + [_The_ KING'S MESSENGER _comes in_. + +_Messenger_. +I speak to the rebellious woman Vashti. +Thou art no more a Queen; thou hast no place +In the King's house, nor in the life of men: +Thus art thou judged. Go forth now; let the night +Befriend thee, for no other friend thou hast, +For the day shall reveal thee to men's eyes, +And they, obedient to the King, will hate thee. +Therefore be gone: and as the beasts have homes +In the wild ground, have thy home from henceforth. + +_Vashti_. +Gives the King reason for this judgment? + +_Messenger_. + Yea; +Because thou art a danger to all marriage, +Because men are dishonoured in their rule +Of women by thy insult, thou art judged. + +_2nd Woman_. +But if the King had heard her crazy words +He would have put her where they tame with thongs +Maniacs. + +_4th Woman_. + When the King hath slept, we will +To-morrow crave his presence, and will stand +In humble troop before him, thanking him +For that his virtue hath this wicked woman +Purged from among us, saved us from infection. + +_1st Woman_. +Alas, my Queen! where lies thy journey now? + +_Vashti_. +Ay, where to go? What shelter for me now +Will any of the dwelt earth dare to give? +My beauty as a branding now will mark me; +And shame will run before me, and await +My coming, wheresoever I would lodge. +For out of Shushan to the ends of the earth +Great news runs, with a hidden soundless speed +Through secret channels in the folks' dim mind, +As water races through smooth sloping gutters. +Swifter than any feet could bear the tale, +Going unheard, already posts abroad +A buried river, and will soon burst up +In towns and markets, far as the width of day, +A bubbling clamour, wonderful wild news: +"Vashti the Queen is judged and forced to go +Roaming the earth, outcast and infamous; +Look out for her! Be ready, if she comes, +With stones and hooting voices!"--Fare you well, +Women whom once I knew. You are quit of me: +Pardon me if I add, And I of you. + + +IV + + Into the darkness fared the outcast Queen; +Fearless her face, and searching with proud gaze +The impenetrable hour. Behind her burned +The sky, held by the open kiln of the town +In a great breath of fire, yellow and red, +From out the festival streets, and myriad links. +Still might she taste, and still must choke to taste, +The fragrance of sweet oils and gums aflame +Capturing the cool night with spicy riches; +Still after her through the hollow moveless air +The sounded ceremonies came, the cry +Of dainty lust in winding tune of fifes, +The silver fury of cymbals clamouring +Like frenzy in a woman-madden'd brain; +And drumming underneath the whole wild noise, +Like monstrous hatred underneath desire, +The thunder of the beaten serpent-skins. +Yea, in the town behind her, flaring Shushan, +She heard Man, meaning to adore himself, +Throned on the wealth of earth as God in heaven, +And making music of his glorying thought, +Merely betray the mastery of his blood, +His sexual heart, his main idolatry,-- +Woman, and his lust to devour her beauty, +Himself devoured ceaselessly by her beauty. +And well she knew, to herself bitterly smiling, +How the King seated amid his fellow-kings +Devised his grievous rage, feeling himself +Insulted in his dearest mind, his rule +Over the precious pleasure of his women +Wounded: how the man's wrath would hiss and swell +Like gross spittle spat into red-hot coals. + But as the Queen fared through the blinded hour, +Sudden against the darkness of her eyes +There came a wind of light. Crimson it was, +With smokey lightnings braided, in its first +Swift surge into the gloom before her face; +But it began to golden, and became +Astonishingly white. And as she stood +With rigour in her nerves, a mighty shudder +Ravish the light, and in the midst appeared +Vision, a goddess, terrible and kind; +And to the Queen the goddess spoke, in voice +That healed her anger with its quietness. + +_Ishtar_. +I am the goddess Ishtar, and thou art +My servant. Wilt any of thou help me? + +_Vashti_. +Am I then one whom gods may help? I am +By men judged hateful: surely I am thereby +Made over to the demons, and not thine. + +_Ishtar_. +Yet art thou mine, because thou knowest well +Thou disobeyest me. + +_Vashti_. + How do I so? + +_Ishtar_. +I am the goddess of the power of women, +And passion in the hearts of men is my +Divinity. + +_Vashti_. + Yea, then I disobey thee. + +_Ishtar_. +And yet thou shalt not fear me wronging thee: +Tell me, O thou Despair, whither thou goest? + +_Vashti_. +Thy taunt goes past me; I am not despair. + +_Ishtar_. +Verily, but thou art. Is not thy mind +A hot revolter from the service due +To my divinity, passion in men's hearts? +Is there aught else that thou mayst serve? Thou knowest +There is naught else: therefore thou art Despair. + +_Vashti_. +That I am infamous, I know. But even now, +Now when I learn I am to gods no more +Than to the lust of men, I will not be +Despair. + +_Ishtar_. + Who means so greatly to serve pride, +That the service of the world is a thing loath'd, +Is desperate, avoided by mankind, +Unpleasing to the gods. We, who look down, +Know that the world and pride may both be served. +Yet also that it was too hard for thee +We know, and pardon. Thou shalt tell me now +Why thou refusest the life given thee. + +_Vashti_. +Because I will not, woman should be sin +Amid man's life. You gods have given man +Desire that too much knows itself; and thence +He is all confounded by the pleasure of us. +How sweetly doth the heart of man begin +Desiring us, how like music and the green +First happiness of the year! But this can grow +To uncontrollably crowding lust, beyond +All power of delight to utter, thence +Inwardly turned to anger and detesting! +Till, looking on us with strange eyes, man finds +We are not his desire: it was but sex +Inflamed, so that it roused the breaking forth +Of secret fury in him, consuming life, +Yea, even the life that would reach up to know +The heaven of gods above it. + +_Ishtar_. + And what, for this, +Dost thou refuse? + +_Vashti_. + I refuse woman's beauty! +Not merely to be feasting with delight +Man's senses, I refuse; but even his heart +I will not serve. Are we to be for ever +Love's passion in man, and never love itself? +Always the instrument, never the music? + +_Ishtar_. +I have not done with man.--Thou sayest true, +Women are as a sin in life: for that +The gods have made mankind in double sex. +Sin of desiring woman is to be +The knowledgeable light within man's soul, +Whereby he kills the darken'd ache of being. +But shall I leave him there? or shall I leave +Woman amid these hungers? Nay: I hold +The rages of these fires as a soft clay +Obedient to my handling; there shall be +Of man desiring, and of woman desired, +A single ecstasy divinely formed, +Two souls knowing themselves as one amazement. +All that thou hatest to arouse in man +Prepareth him for this; and thou thyself +Art by thy very hate prepared: wherefore +The gods forgive thee, seeing what comes of thee. +Behold now! of my godhead I will make +Thy senses burn with vision, storying +The spirit of woman growing from loved to love. + +_The First Vision: Helen_. +Helen am I, a name astonishing +The world, a fame that rings against the sky, +Like an alarm of brass smitten to sound +The news of war against the stone of mountains. +I move in power through the minds of men, +And have no power to hold my power back. +Men's passions fawn upon my feet, as waves +That fiercely fawn after the going wind; +But not as the wind, shaking off the foam +Of the pursuing lust of the moaning waves, +And over the clamour of the evil seas' +Monstrous word running lightly, unhurt. +They fawn upon me, all the lusts of the world, +Bewildering my steps with straining close, +And breathe their horrible spittle against me. +Passions cry round me with the yelling cry +Of dogs chained and starving and smelling blood. +Yea, for through me the world becomes a den +Of insane greed. In helpless beauty I stand +Alone in the midst of dreadful adoration; +And, round me thronged, the fawning, fawning lusts +Open their throats upon me and whine and lick +My feet with dripping tongues, or gaze to pant +Hot hunger in my face. For I am made +To set their hearts grim to possess my life, +And with an anger of love devour my beauty; +And yet to seal up in their mastered hearts +The rage, and bring them in croucht worship down +Before me, bent with impotent desire. +A quiet place the world was ere I came +A strife, a dream of fire, into its sleep; +And with their senses ended men's delights. +But I struck through their senses burning news +Of impossible endless things, and mixt +Wild lightning into their room of darkness.--Then +Agony, and a craving for delight +Escaping sensual grasp, began in men; +And the agony was poison in the health +Of sweet desire.--The joy of me men tried +To compass with strange frenzy and desire +Made new with cunning. But still at my feet +The lusts they tarr on me crouch down and fawn +And snarl to be so fearful of their prey. +I see men's faces grin with helpless lust +About me; crooked hands reach out to please +Their hot nerves with the flower of my skin; +I see the eyes imagining enjoyment, +The arms twitching to seize me, and the minds +Inflamed like the glee-kindled hearts of fiends. +And through the world the fawning, fawning lusts +Hound me with worship of a ravenous yearning: +And I am weary of maddening men with beauty. + +_The Second Vision: Sappho_. +Into how fair a fortune hath man's life +Fallen out of the darkness!--This bright earth +Maketh my heart to falter; yea, my spirit +Bends and bows down in the delight of vision, +Caught by the force of beauty, swayed about +Like seaweed moved by the deep winds of water: +For it is all the news of love to me. +Through paths pine-fragrant, where the shaded ground +Is strewn with fruits of scarlet husk, I come, +As if through maidenhood's uncertainty, +Its darkness coloured with strange untried thoughts; +Hither I come, here to the flowery peak +Of this white cliff, high up in golden air, +Where glowing earth and sea and divine light +Are in mine eyes like ardour, and like love +Are in my soul: love's glowing gentleness, +The sunny grass of meadows and the trees, +Towers of dark green flame, and that white town +Where from the hearths, a fragrance of burnt wood, +Blue-purple smoke creeps like a stain of wine +Along the paved blue sea: yea, all this kindness +Lies amid salt immeasurable flowing, +The power of the sea, passion of love. +I, Sappho, have made love the mastery +Most sacred over man; but I have made it +A safety of things gloriously known, +To house his spirit from the darkness blowing +Out of the vast unknown: from me he hath +The wilful mind to make his fortune fair. +Yea, here I stand for the whole earth to see +How life, breathing its fortune like sweet air, +Mixing it with the kindled heart of man, +May utter it proud against the double truth +Of darkness fronting him and following him, +In a prevailing, burning, marvellous lie! +And it is love kindles the burning of it, +The quivering flame of spoken-forth desire, +Which man hath made his place within the world,-- +Love, learnt of Sappho! and not only bright +With gladness: I have devised an endless pain, +The fearful spiritual pain of love, to hold +In a firm fire, unalterably bright, +The shining forth of Spirit's imagination +Declared against the investing dark, a light +Of pain and joy, equal for man and woman. + +_The Third Vision: Theresa_. +Come, golden bridegroom, break this mortal night, +Five times chained with darkness of my senses. +At last now visit my desire, and turn +Thy feet, and the flaming path of thy feet, +Unto these walls lockt round me like a death. +Death I would have them till thou comest; yea, +The earthly stone whereof man's fortune here +Is made, strongly into deliberate death +I have built about my soul, to fend its life +From gazes of the world. I am too proud +To endure the world's desire of my beauty; +I know myself too marvellous in love +To be the joy of aught that thou hast made: +I am to be bride of thee, of the world's maker. +O God, the heart I have from thee, the heart +Uttering itself in an endless word of love, +Is sealed up in the stone of worldly night: +Set hitherward the flaming way of thy feet, +Break my night, and enter in unto me. +Come, wed my spirit; and like as the sea, +Into the shining spousal ecstasy +Of sun and wind, riseth in cloudy gleam, +So let the knowing of my flesh be clouds +Of fire, mounting up the height of my spirit, +Fire clouding with flame the marriage hour +Wherein my spirit keeps thy dreadful light +Away from Heaven in a bridal kiss,-- +Fire of bodily sense in spiritual glee +Held, as fire of water in sunlit air. +Ah God, beautiful God, my soul is wild +With love of thee. Hitherward turn thy feet, +Turn their golden journeying towards this night,-- +This night of cavernous earth; and now let shine +These walls of stone, against thy nearing love, +Like pure glass smitten by the power of the sun; +And let them be, in thy descending love, +Like glass in a furnace, falling molten down, +Back from thy burning feet streaming and flowing, +Leaving me naked to thy bright desire.-- +Enjoy me, God, enjoy thy bride to-night. + +_Vashti_. +Too well I know the first, the scarlet clad; +And she, that was in shining white and gold, +Was as the sound of bees and waters, at last +Heard by one long closed in the dins of madness. +But what was she, the black-robed, with the eyes +So fearfully alight, the last who spoke? + +_Ishtar_. +Take none of these for perfect: they are moods +Purifying my women to become +My unexpressive, uttermost intent.-- +As music binds into a strict delight +The manifold random sounds that shake the air, +Even so fashioned must I have the being +That fills with rushing power the boundless spirit: +Amidst it, musically firm, a joy +That is a fiery knowledge of itself, +Thereby self-continent, a globed fire. +And she who gave thee wonder, is the sign +Of those who firmest, brightest hold their being +Fastened and seized in one enjoyed desire. +Yet even they are but a making ready +For what I perfectly intend: in them +Joy of self-bound desire hath burnt itself +To extreme purity; I am free thereby +To work my meaning through them, my divinity. +Yea, such clean fire in man and such in woman +To mingle wonderfully, that the twain +Become a moment of one blazing flame +Infinitely upward towering, far beyond +The boundless fate of spirit in the world. +But in the way to this are maladies +And anguish; and as a perilous bridge +Over the uncontrolled demanding world, +Virginity, passionate self-possessing, +Must build itself supreme, unbreakable. +--I leave thee: as thou mayst, be comforted +By prophecy of what I mean in life. +Against thee is not Heaven, and thou must +Endure the hatred men will throw upon thee. + + * * * * * + +The shining place where Ishtar looked at her +Empty the Queen beheld; and into mist +The glory fainted, and the stars came through +Untroubled. Into the night the Queen went on. + + + + +PART II + + +IMPERFECTION + + + + +MARY + +[A LEGEND OF THE FORTY-FIVE] + + +I + +_A street in Carlisle leading to the Scottish Gate. Three +girls_, MARY, KATRINA, and JEAN. + +_Katrina_. +What a year this has been! + +_Mary_. + There's many a lass +Will blench to hear the date of it--Forty-five,-- +Poor souls! Why will the men be fighting so, +Running away to find out death, as if +It were some tavern full of light and fiddling? +And when the doors are shut, what of the girls +Who gave themselves away, and still must live? +Are not men thoughtless? + +_Katrina_. + Leaving only kisses +To be remembered by. + +_Jean_. + That's not so bad +As when the dead lads went beyond kissing. + +_Mary_. +Poor souls! Well, Carlisle has at least three hearts +That are not crying for a lad who's gone +Listening to the lean old Crowder, Death. +We needn't mope: and yet it's sad. + +_Jean_. + Come on, +Why are we dawdling? All the heads are up, +Steepled on spikes above the Scottish Gate,-- +Some of the rebels rarely handsome too. + +_Mary_. +Won't it be rather horrible? + +_Katrina_. + A row +Of chopt-off heads sitting on spikes--ugh! + +_Jean_. + Yes, +And I daresay blood dribbling here and there. + +_Mary_. +Don't, Jean! I am going back. I was +Forbid the gate. + +_Katrina_. + And so was I. + +_Jean_. + And I. + +_Katrina_. +But a mere peep at them? + +_Jean_. + Yes, come on, Mary. + +_Mary_. +We might just see how horrible they are. + +_Jean_. +Sure, they will make us shudder; + +_Katrina_. + Or else cry. + + [_A_ MAN _meets them_. + +_Man_. +Are you for the show, my girls? + +_Jean_. + We aren't your girls. + +_Katrina_. +Do you mean the heads upon the Scottish Gate? + +_Man_. +Ay, that's the show, a pretty one. + +_Jean_. + Are all +The rebels' heads set up? + +_Man_. + All, all; their cause +Is fallen flat; but go you on and see +How wonderly their proud heads are elate. + +_Katrina_. +Do any look as if they died afeared? + +_Man_. +Go and learn that yourselves. And when you mark +How grimly addled all the daring is +Now in those brains, do as your hearts shall bid you, +And that is weep, I hope. + +_Mary_. + O let's go back. + +_Jean_. +We have no friends spiked on the Scottish Gate. + +_Man_. +No? Well, there's quite a quire of voices there, +Blessing the King's just wisdom for his stern +Strong policy with the rebels. + +_Mary_. + Who are those?-- +I think it's fiendish to have killed so many. + +_Man_. +The chattering birds, my lass, and droning flies: +They're proper Whigs, are birds and flies,--or else +The Whigs are proper crows and carrion-bugs. + + [_He goes on past them_. + +_Katrina_. +A Jacobite? + +_Jean_. + That's it, I warrant you. +One of the stay-at-homes. + +_Mary_. + Now promise me, +We'll only take a glimpse, girls, a short glimpse. + +_Jean (laughing)_. +Yes, just to see how horrible they are. + + [_They go on towards the gate_. + + +II + +_The Scottish Gate, Carlisle. Among the crowd_. + +_Mary_. +O why did we come here? + +_Jean_. + One, two, three, four-- +A devil's dozen of them at the least. + +_Katrina_. +Poor lads! They did not need to set them up +So high, surely. Which is the one you'ld call +Prettiest, Jean? + +_Jean_. + That fellow with the sneer; +The axe's weight could not ruffle his brow,-- +How signed it is with scorn! + +_Katrina_. + Ah yes, he's dark +And you are red: Mary and I will choose +Some golden fellow. Which do you think, Mary? + +_Jean_. +O, but mine is the one! Look--do you see?-- +He must have put his curls away from the axe; +Or did they part themselves when he knelt down, +And let the stroke have his nape white and bare? +O could a girl not nestle snug and happy +Against a neck, with such hair covering her! + +_Katrina_. +Now, Mary, we must make our yellow choice; +You've got good eyes; which do you fancy?--Jean! +What ails her? + +_Jean_. + How she stares! which is the one +She singles out? That topmost boy it is,-- +Pretty enough for a flaxen poll indeed. +Is that your lad, Mary? + +_Katrina_. + She's ill or fey; +They are too much for her; and I truly +Am nearly weeping for them and their wives and lasses. +Her eyes don't budge! She's fastened on his face +With just the look that one would have to greet +The ghost of one's own self. See, all her blood +Is trapt in her heart,--pale she is as he. + +_A Man in the Crowd_. +Can't you see she's fainting? 'Tis no sight +For halfling girls. + +_Jean_. + Halfling yourself. + +_Katrina_. + Mary! + +_Mary_. +Let us go home now: help me there, Katrina. + +_Katrina_. +Yes, dear, but are you ill? + +_Mary_. + No: let us go home. + +_Katrina (to Jean)_. +Come, Jean. Did you not hear her gasp? We must +Be with her on her way home. + +_Jean_. + You go then. +I've not lookt half enough at these. Besides-- + + [MARY _and_ KATRINA _go_. + +Well, sir, how dare you speak to girls like that, +When they're alone? + +_The Man_. + You needn't be so short; +I guess you're one to take fine care of yourself. + +_Jean_. +Yes, and I'ld choose a better-looking man +Than you, my chap, if I wanted company. + +_The Man_. +Come this way, you'll see better. + +_Jean_. + Impudence! +Who said your arm might be there? + +_The Man_. + O, it's all right. + +_Jean_. +And what do you think of the rebels now they're dead? + + +III + +_Mary lying awake in bed_. +O let me reason it out calmly! Have I +No stars to take me through this terror, poured +Suddenly, dreadfully, on to my heart and spirit? +Why is it I, of all the world I only +Who must so love against nature? I knew +Always, that not like harbour for a boat, +Not a smooth safety, Love would take my soul; +But like going naked and empty-handed +Into the glitter and hiss of a wild sword-play, +I should fall in love, and in fear and danger: +But a danger of white light, a fear of sharpness +Keen and close to my heart, not as it proves,-- +My heart hit by a great dull mace of terror! + + * * * * * + + So it has come to me, my hope, my wonder! +Now I perceive that I was one of those +Who, till love comes, have breath and beating blood +In one continual question. All the beauty +My happy senses took till now has been +Drugg'd with a fiery want and discontent, +That settled in my soul and lay there burning. +The hills, wearing their green ample dresses +Right in the sky's blue courts, with swerving folds +Along the rigour of their stony sinews-- +(Often they garr'd my breath catch and stumble),-- +The moon that through white ghost of water went, +Till she was ring'd about with an amber window,-- +The summer stars seen winking through dusk leaves; +All the earth's manners and most loveliness, +All made my asking spirit stir within me, +And throb with a question, whose answer is, +(As now I know, but then I did not know) +There is a Man somewhere meant for me.-- +And I have seen the face of him for whom +My soul was made! + Ah, somewhere? Where is that? +Have I not dreamt that he is gone away, +Gone ere he loved me? Now I lose myself. +I only have seen my boy's murder'd head. + + * * * * * + + Yes, again light breaks through and quells my thought. +The whole earth seemed as it belonged to me, +A message spoken out in green and blue +Specially to my heart; and it would say +That some time, out of the human multitude +A face would look into my soul, and sign +All my nature, easily as it were wax, +With its dear image; but after that impress +I would all harden, so that nought could raze +The minting of that seal from off my being. +And yesterday it fell. An idle whim +To see the rebels on the Scottish Gate,-- +And there was the face of him I was made to love, +There,--ah God,--on the gate, my murder'd lad! +Did any girl have first-sight love like this? +Not to have ever seen him, only seen +Such piteous token that he has been born, +Lived and grown up to beauty, the man who was meant +To sleep upon my breast, and dead before +The sweet custom of love could be between us! +To have but seen his face?--Is that enough +To make me clear he is my man indeed? +Why, sure there are tales bordering on my lot +In misery?--Of hearts who have been stabbed +By knowledge that their mates were in the earth, +Yet never could come near enough to be healed; +Of those who have gone longing all a life, +Because a voice heard singing or a gesture +Seen from afar gospell'd them of love; +And no more than the mere announcement had. +Ah, but all these to mine were kindly dealing; +For not till they'd trepann'd him out of life +Did he, poor laggard, come to claim my soul.-- +O my love, but your ears played you falsely +When they were taken by Death's wily tunes! + + * * * * * + + Am I so hardly done to, who have seen +My lover's face, been near enough to worship +The very writing of his spirit in flesh? +For having that in my ken, I am not far +From loving with my eyes all his body. +What a set would his shoulders have, and neck, +To bear his goodly-purposed head; what gait +And usage of his limbs!--Ah, do you smile? +Why, even so I knew your smile would be, +Just such an over-brimming of your soul. +O love, love, love, then you have come to me! +How I have stayed aching for you! Come close, +Here's where you should have been long time, long time. +It is your rightful place. And I had left +Thinking you'ld come and kiss me over my heart! +Ah lad, my lad, they told me you were dead. + + +IV + +_At Dawn. The Scottish Gate_. + +_Mary (on her way to the gate, singing to herself)_. + As a wind that has run all day + Among the fragrant clover, + At evening to a valley comes; + So comes to me my lover. + + And as all night a honey'd warmth + Stays where the wind did lie, + So when my lover leaves my arms + My heart's all honey. + + But what have I to do with this? And when +Was that song put in hiding 'mid my thought? +I might be on my way to meet and give +Good morrow to my--Ah! last night, last night! +O fie! I must not dream so. + + [_At the Gate_. + It _was_ I! +I am the girl whose lover they have killed, +Who never saw him until out of death +He lookt into my soul. I was to meet +Somewhere in life my lover, and behold, +He has turned into an inn I dare not enter, +And gazes through a window at my soul +Going on labour'd with this loving body.-- +Did I not sleep last night with you in my arms? +I could have sworn it. Why should body have +So large a part in love? For if 'twere only +Spirit knew how to love, an easy road +My feet had down to death. But I must want +Lips against mine, and arms marrying me, +And breast to kiss with its dear warmth my breast,-- +Body must love! O me, how it must ache +Before it is as numb as thine, dear boy! +Poor darling, didst thou forget that I was made +To wed thee, body and soul? For surely else +Thou hadst not gone from life.-- + Ah, folk already, +Coming to curse the light with all their stares. + + +V + +KATRINA _and_ JEAN. + +_Katrina_. +Where are you off to, Jean, in such a tear? + +_Jean_. +I'm busy. + +_Katrina_. + O you light-skirts! who is it now? +You think I can't guess what your business is? +Is it aught fresh, or only old stuff warmed? + +_Jean_. +Does not the smartness in your wits, Katrina, +Make your food smack sourly?--Well, this time, +It's serious with me. I believe I'm caught. + +_Katrina_. +O but you've had such practice in being caught, +You'll break away quite easily when you want. +Tell me now who it is. + +_Jean_. + The man who spoke +When we were at the Scottish Gate that day. +O, he's a dapper boy! Did you mark his eyes? + +_Katrina_. +Nay, I saw nought but he was under-grown. + +_Jean_. +Pooh! He can carry me. + +_Katrina_. + Jean, have you heard +Of Mary lately?--I vow she's in love. + +_Jean_. +Never! with whom? + +_Katrina_. + The thing's a wonder, Jean. +She'll speak to no one now, and every day, +Morning and evening, she's at the gate +Gazing like a fey creature on that head +She was so stricken to behold--you mind it?-- +I tell you she's in love with it. + +_Jean_. + O don't be silly. +How can you fall in love with a dead man? +And what good could he do you, if you did? +One loves for kisses and for hugs and the rest; +A spunky fellow,--that's the thing to love. +But a dead man,--pah, what a foolery! + +_Katrina_. +O yes, to you; for Love's a game for you. +'Twill turn out dangerous maybe, but still,--a game. + +_Jean_. +Yes, the best kind of game a girl can play, +And all the better for the risk, Katrina. +But where the fun would be in Love if he +You played with had not heart to jump, nor blood +To tingle, nothing in him to go wild +At seeing you betray your love for him, +Beats me to understand. You'ld be as wise +Blowing the bellows at a pile of stone +As loving one that never lived for you. +It isn't just to make a wind you blow, +But to turn red fire into white quivering heat. +Whatever she's after, 'tis not love, my girl: +I know what love is. But perhaps she saw +The poor lad living? Even had speech with him? + +_Katrina_. +Not she; Mary has never known a lad +I did not know as well. We've shared our lives +As if we had been sisters, and I'm sure +She's never been in love before. + +_Jean_. + Before? +Don't talk such sentimental nonsense-- + +_Katrina_. + Why, +If Love-at-first-sight can mean anything, +Surely 'tis this: there's some one in the world +Whom, if you come across him, you must love, +And you could no more pass his face unmoved +Than the year could go backwards. Well, suppose +He dies just ere you meet him; and he dead, +Ay, or his head alone, is given your eyes, +It is enough: he is the man for you, +All as if he were quick and signalling +His heart to you in smiles. + +_Jean_. + Believe me, dear, +You've no more notion of the thing called Love +Than a grig has of talking. But I have, +And I'm off now to practise with my notions. + +_Katrina_. +Now which is the real love,--hers or Mary's? + + +VI + +_Before Dawn, At the Scottish Gate_. + +_Mary_. +Beloved, beloved!--O forgive me +That all these days questioning I have been, +Struggled with doubts. Your power over me, +That here slipt through the nets death caught you in, +Lighted on me so greatly that my heart +Could scarcely carry the amazement. Now +I am awake and seeing; and I come +To save you from this post of ignominy. +A ladder I have filched and thro' the streets +Borne it, on shoulders little used to weight. +You'll say that I should not have bruised myself?-- +But it is good, and an ease for me, to have +Some ache of body.--Now if there's any chink +In death, surely my love will reach to thee, +Surely thou wilt be ware of how I go +Henceforth through life utterly thine. And yet +Pardon what now I say, for I must say it. +I cannot thank thee, my dear murder'd lad, +For mastering me so. What other girls +Might say in blessing on their sweethearts' heads, +How can I say? They are well done to, when +Love of a man their beings like a loom +Seizes, and the loose ends of purposes +Into one beautiful desire weaves. +But love has not so done to me: I was +A nature clean as water from the hills, +One that had pleased the lips of God; and now +Brackish I am, as if some vagrom malice +Had trampled up the springs and made them run +Channelling ancient secrecies of salt. + O me, what, has my tongue these bitter words +In front of my love's death? Look down, sweetheart, +From the height of thy sacred ignominy +And see my shame. Nay, I will come up to thee +And have my pardon from thy lips, and do +The only good I can to thee, sweetheart. + + * * * * * + + I have done it: but how have I done it? +And what's this horrible thing to do with me? +How came it on the ground, here at my feet? +O I had better have shirkt it altogether! +What do I love? Not this; this is only +A message that he left on earth for me, +Signed by his spirit, that he had to go +Upon affairs more worthy than my love. +We women must give place in our men's thoughts +To matters such as those. +God, God, why must I love him? Why +Must life be all one scope for the hawking wings +Of Love, that none the mischief can escape?-- +Well, I am thine for always now, my love, +For this has been our wedding. No one else, +Since thee I have had claspt unto my breast, +May touch me lovingly.-- + Light, it is light! +What shall I do with it, now I have got it? +O merciful God, must I handle it +Again? I dare not; what is it to me? +Let me off this! Who is it clutches me +By the neck behind? Who has hold of me +Forcing me stoop down? Love, is it thou? +Spare me this service, thou who hast all else +Of my maimed life: why wilt thou be cruel? +O grip me not so fiercely. Love! Ah no, +I will not: 'tis abominable-- + + + + +JEAN + + +I + +_The Parlour of a Public House. Two young men_, MORRIS +_and_ HAMISH. + +_Hamish_. +Come, why so moody, Morris? Either talk, +Or drink, at least. + +_Morris_. + I'm wondering about Love. + +_Hamish_. +Ho, are you there, my boy? Who may it be? + +_Morris_. +I'm not in love; but altogether posed +I am by lovers. + +_Hamish_. + They're a simple folk: +I'm one. + +_Morris_. + It's you I'm mainly thinking of. + +_Hamish_. +Why, that's an honour, surely. + +_Morris_. + Now if I loved +The girl you love, your Jean, (look where she goes +Waiting on drinkers, hearing their loose tongues; +And yet her clean thought takes no more of soil +Than white-hot steel laid among dust can take!)-- + +_Hamish_. +You not in love, and talking this fine stuff? + +_Morris_. +I say, if I loved Jean, I'ld do without +All these vile pleasures of the flesh, your mind +Seems running on for ever: I would think +A thought that was always tasting them would make +The fire a foul thing in me, as the flame +Of burning wood, which has a rare sweet smell, +Is turned to bitter stink when it scorches flesh. + +_Hamish_. +Why specially Jean? + +_Morris_. + Why Jean? The girl's all spirit! + +_Hamish_. +She's a lithe burd, it's true; that, I suppose, +Is why you think her made of spirit,--unless +You've seen her angry: she has a blazing temper.-- +But what's a girl's beauty meant for, but to rouse +Lust in a man? And where's the harm in that,-- +In loving her because she's beautiful, +And in the way that drives me?--I dare say +My spirit loves her too. But if it does +I don't know what it loves. + +_Morris_. + Why, man, her beauty +Is but the visible manners of her spirit; +And this you go to love by the filthy road +Which all the paws and hoofs in the world tread too! +God! And it's Jean whose lover runs with the herd +Of grunting, howling, barking lovers,--Jean!-- + +_Hamish_. +O spirit, spirit, spirit! What is spirit? +I know I've got a body, and it loves: +But who can tell me what my spirit's doing, +Or even if I have one? + +_Morris_. + Well, it's strange, +My God, it's strange. A girl goes through the world +Like a white sail over the sea, a being +Woven so fine and lissom that her life +Is but the urging spirit on its journey, +And held by her in shape and attitude. +And all she's here for is that you may clutch +Her spirit in the love of a mating beast! + +_Hamish_. +Why, she has fifty lovers if she has one, +And fifty's few for her. + +_Morris_. + I'm going out. +If the night does me good, I'll come back here +Maybe, and walk home with you. + +_Hamish_. + O don't bother. +If I want spirit, it will be for drinking. + [MORRIS _goes out_. +Spirit or no, drinking's better than talking. +Who was the sickly fellow to invent +That crazy notion spirit, now, I wonder? +But who'd have thought a burly lout like Morris +Would join the brabble? Sure he'll have in him +A pint more blood than I have; and he's all +For loving girls with words, three yards away! + +JEAN _comes in_. + +_Jean_. +Alone, my boy? Who was your handsome friend? + +_Hamish_. +Whoever he was he's gone. But I'm still here. + +_Jean_. +O yes, you're here; you're always here. + +_Hamish_. + Of course, +And you know why. + +_Jean_. + Do I? I've forgotten. + +_Hamish_. +Jean, how can you say that? O how can you? + +_Jean_. +Now don't begin to pity yourself, please. + +_Hamish_. +Ah, I am learning now; it's truth they talk. +You would undo the skill of a spider's web +And take the inches of it in one line, +More easily than know a woman's thought. +I'm ugly on a sudden? + +_Jean_. + The queer thing +About you men is that you will have women +Love in the way you do. But now learn this; +We don't love fellows for their skins; we want +Something to wonder at in the way they love. +A chap may be as rough as brick, if you like, +Yes, or a mannikin and grow a tail,-- +If he's the spunk in him to love a girl +Mainly and heartily, he's the man for her.-- +My soul, I've done with all you pretty men; +I want to stand in a thing as big as a wind; +And I can only get your paper fans! + +_Hamish_. +You've done with me? You wicked Jean! You'll dare +To throw me off like this? After you've made, +O, made my whole heart love you? + +_Jean_. + You are no good. +Your friend, now, seems a likely man; but you?-- +I thought you were a torch; and you're a squib. + +_Hamish_. +Not love you enough? Death, I'll show you then. + +_Jean_. +Hands off, Hamish. There's smoke in you, I know, +And splutter too. Hands off, I say. + +_Hamish_. + By God +Tell me to-morrow there's no force in me! + +_Jean_. +Leave go, you little beast, you're hurting me: +I never thought you'ld be so strong as this. +Let go, or I'll bite; I mean it. You young fool, +I'm not for you. Take off your hands. O help! + [MORRIS _has come in unseen and rushes forward_. + +_Morris_. +You beast! You filthy villainous fellow!--Now, +I hope I've hurt the hellish brain in you. +Take yourself off. You'll need a nurse to-night. + [HAMISH _slinks out_. +Poor girl! And are you sprained at all? That ruffian! + +_Jean_. +O sir, how can I thank you? You don't know +What we poor serving girls must put up with. +We don't hear many voices like yours, sir. +They think, because we serve, we've no more right +To feelings than their cattle. O forgive me +Talking to you. You don't come often here. + +_Morris_. +No, but I will: after to-night I'll see +You take no harm. And as for him, I'll smash him. + +_Jean_. +Yes, break the devil's ribs,--I mean,--O leave me; +I'm all distraught. + +_Morris_. + Good night, Jean. My name's Morris. + +_Jean_. +Good night, Morris--dear. O I must thank you. + [_She suddenly kisses him_. +Perhaps,--perhaps, you'll think that wicked of me? + +_Morris_. +You wicked? O how silly!--But--good night. + [_He goes_. + +_Jean_. +The man, the man! What luck! My soul, what luck! + + +II + +JEAN _by herself, undressing_. +Yes, he's the man. Jean, my girl, you're done for, +At last you're done for, the good God be thankt.-- +That was a wonderful look he had in his eyes: +'Tis a heart, I believe, that will burn marvellously! +Now what a thing it is to be a girl! +Who'ld be a man? Who'ld be fuel for fire +And not the quickening touch that sets it flaming?-- +'Tis true that when we've set him well alight +(As I, please God, have set this Morris burning) +We must be serving him like something worshipt; +But is it to a man we kneel? No, no; +But to our own work, to the blaze we kindled! +O, he caught bravely. Now there's nothing at all +So rare, such a wild adventure of glee, +As watching love for you in a man beginning;-- +To see the sight of you pour into his senses +Like brandy gulpt down by a frozen man, +A thing that runs scalding about his blood; +To see him holding himself firm against +The sudden strength of wildness beating in him! +O what my life is waiting for, at last +Is started, I believe: I've turned a man +To a power not to be reckoned; I shall be +Held by his love like a light thing in a river! + + +III + +MORRIS _by himself_. +It is a wonder! Here's this poor thing, Life, +Troubled with labours of the endless war +The lusty flesh keeps up against the spirit; +And down amid the anger--who knows whence?-- +Comes Love, and at once the struggling mutiny +Falls quiet, unendurably rebuked: +And the whole strength of life is free to serve +Spirit, under the regency of Love. +The quiet that is in me! The bright peace! +Instead of smoke and dust, the peace of Love! +Truly I knew not what a turmoil life +Has been, and how rebellious, till this peace +Came shining down! And yet I have seen things, +And heard things, that were strangely meaning this,-- +Telling me strangely that life can be all +One power undisturbed, one perfect honour,-- +Waters at noonday sounding among hills, +Or moonlight lost among vast curds of cloud;-- +But never knew I it is only Love +Can rule the noise of life to heavenly quiet. +Ah, Jean, if thou wilt love me, thou shalt have +Never from me upon thy purity +The least touch of that eager baseness, known, +For shame's disguising, by the name of Love +Most wickedly; thou shalt not need to fear +Aught from my love, for surely thou shalt know +It is a love that almost fears to love thee. + + +IV + +_The Public House_. MORRIS _and_ JEAN. + +_Jean_. +O, you are come again! + +_Morris_. + Has he been here, +That blackguard, with some insolence to you? + +_Jean_. +Who? + +_Morris_. + Why, that Hamish. + +_Jean_. + Hamish? No, not he. + +_Morris_. +I thought--you seemed so breathless-- + +_Jean_. + But you've come +Again! May I not be glad of your coming? +Yes, and a little breathless?--Did you come +Only because you thought I might be bullied? + +_Morris_. +O, no, no, no, Only for you I came. + +_Jean_. +And that's what I was hoping. + +_Morris_. + If you could know +How it has been with me, since I saw you! + +_Jean_. + + What can I know of your mind?--For my own +Is hard enough to know,--save that I'm glad +You've come again,--and that I should have cried +If you'd not kept your word. + +_Morris_. + My word?--to see +Hamish does nothing to you? + +_Jean_. + The fiend take Hamish! +Do you think I'ld be afraid of him?--It's you +I ought to be afraid of, were I wise. + +_Morris_. +Good God, she's crying! + +_Jean_. + Cannot you understand? + +_Morris_. +O darling, is it so? I prayed for this +All night, and yet it's unbelievable. + +_Jean_. +You too, Morris? + +_Morris_. + There's nothing living in me +But love for you, my sweetheart. + +_Jean_. + And you are mine, +My sweetheart!--And now, Morris, now you know +Why you are the man that ought to frighten me!-- +Morris, I love you so! + +_Morris_. + O, but better than this, +Jean, you must love me. You must never think +I'm like the heartless men you wait on here, +Whose love is all a hunger that cares naught +How hatefully endured its feasting must be +By her who fills it, so it be well glutted! + +_Jean_. +I did not say I was afraid of you; +But only that, perhaps, I ought to be. + +_Morris_. +No, no, you never ought. My love is one +That will not have its passion venturous; +It knows itself too fine a ceremony +To risk its whole perfection even by one +Unruly thought of the luxury in love. +Nay, rather it is the quietness of power, +That knows there is no turbulence in life +Dare the least questioning hindrance set against +The onward of its going,--therefore quiet, +All gentle. But strong, Jean, wondrously strong! + +_Jean_. +Yes, love is strong. I have well thought of that. +It drops as fiercely down on us as if +We were to be its prey. I've seen a gull +That hovered with beak pointing and eyes fixt +Where, underneath its swaying flight, some fish +Was trifling, fooling in the waves: then, souse! +And the gull has fed. And love on us has fed. + +_Morris_. +Indeed 'tis a sudden coming; but I grieve +To hear you make of love a cruelty. +Sweetheart, it shall be nothing cruel to you! +You shall not fear, in doing what love bids, +Ever to know yourself unmaidenly. +For see! here's my first kiss; and all my love +Is signed in it; and it is on your hand.-- +Is that a thing to fear?--But it were best +I go now. This should be a privacy, +Not even your lover near, this hour of first +Strange knowledge that you have accepted love. +I think you would feel me prying, if I stayed +While your heart falters into full perceiving +That you are plighted now forever mine. +God bless you, Jean, my sweetheart.--Not a word? +But you will thank me soon for leaving you: +'Tis the best courtesy I can do. + [_He goes_. + +_Jean_. +O, and I thought it was my love at last! +I thought, from the look he had last night, I'd found +That great, brave, irresistible love!--But this! +It's like a man deformed, with half his limbs. +Am I never to have the love I dream and need, +Pouring over me, into me, winds of fire? + + HAMISH _comes in_. + +_Hamish_. +Well? What's the mood to-night?--The girl's been crying! +This should be something queer. + +_Jean_. + It's you are to blame: +You brought him here! + +_Hamish_. + It's Morris this time, is it? +And what has he done? + +_Jean_. + He's insulted me. +And you must never let me see him again. + +_Hamish_. +Sure I don't want him seeing you. But still, +If I'm to keep you safe from meeting him-- + +_Jean_. +To look in his eyes would mortify my heart! + +_Hamish_. +Then you'ld do right to pay me. + +_Jean_. + What you please. + +_Hamish_. +A kiss? + +_Jean_. + Of course; as many as you like-- +And of any sort you like. + + + + +KATRINA + + +I + +_On the sea-coast. Three young men_, SYLVAN, VALENTINE, +_and_ FRANCIS. + +_Valentine_. +Well, I suppose you're out of your fear at last, +Sylvan. This land's empty enough; naught here +Feminine but the hens, bitches, and cows. +Now we are safe! + +_Francis_. + Horribly safe; for here, +If there are wives at all, they are salted so +They have no meaning for the blood, bent things +Philosophy allows not to be women. + +_Valentine_. +But think of the husbands that must spend their nights +Alongside skin like bark. It is the men +That have the tragedy in these weather'd lands. + +_Francis_. +No thought of that! We are monks now. And, indeed, +This is a cloister that a man could like, +This blue-aired space of grassy land, that here, +Just as it touches the sea's bitter mood, +Is troubled into dunes, as it were thrilled, +Like a calm woman trembling against love. + +_Sylvan_. +Woman again!--How, knowing you, I failed +So long to know the truth, I cannot think. + +_Francis_. +And what's the truth? + +_Sylvan_. + Woman and love of her +Is as a dragging ivy on the growth +Of that strong tree, man's nature! + +_Valentine_. + Yes. But now +Tell us a simpler sort of truth. Was she--- + +_Sylvan_. +She? Who? + +_Valentine_. + Katrina, of course: who else, when one +Speaks of a she to you? + +_Sylvan_. + And what about her? + +_Valentine_. +Was she too cruel to you, or too kind? + +_Sylvan_. +Ah, there's no hope for men like you; you're sunk +Above your consciences in smothering ponds +Of sweet imagination,--drowned in woman! + +_Francis_. +Ay? Clarence and the Malmesey over again; +'Twas a delightful death. + +_Valentine_. + But you forget. +Sylvan, we've come as your disciples here. + +_Sylvan_. +Yes, to a land where not the least desire +Need prey upon your mettle. There are hours +A god might gladly take in these basking dunes,-- +Nothing but summer and piping larks, and air +All a warm breath of honey, and a grass +All flowers--sweet thyme and golden heart's-ease here! +And under scent and song of flowers and birds, +Far inland out of the golden bays the air +Is charged with briny savour, and whispered news +Gentle as whitening oats the breezes stroke. +What good is all this health to you? You bring +Your own thoughts with you; and they are vinegar, +Endlessly rusting what should be clear steel. + +_Francis_. +I do begin to doubt our enterprise, +The grand Escape from Woman. It lookt brave +And nobly hazardous afar off, to cease +All wenching, whether in deed or word or thought. +And yet I fear pride egged us. We had done +Better to be more humble, and bring here +A girl apiece. + +_Valentine_. + Yes, Sylvan; you must think +The cloister were a thing more comfortable +With your Katrina in it? + +_Sylvan_. + My Katrina! +And do you think, supposing I would love, +I'ld bank in such a crazy safe as that +Katrina? One of those soft shy-spoken maids, +Who are only maids through fear? Whose life is all +A simpering pretence of modesty? +If it was love I wanted, 'twould not be +A dish of sweet stewed pears, laced with brandy. +But I can do without a woman's kisses. + +_Valentine_. +Can you?--You know full well, in the truth of your heart, +That there's no man in all the world of men +Whose will woman's beauty cannot divide +Easily as a sword cuts jetting water. + +_Sylvan_. +Have you not heard, that even jetting water +May have such spouting force, that it becomes +A rod of glittering white iron, and swords +Will beat rebounding on its speed in vain?-- +Of such a force I mean to have my will. + +[_He sits and stares moodily out to sea. His companions +whisper each other_. + +_Valentine_. +Here, Francis! Look you yonder. O but this, +This is the joke of the world! + +_Francis_. + Hallo! a girl! +And, by the Lord, Katrina!--But why here? + +_Valentine_. +She's followed him, of course; she's heard of this +Mad escapade and followed after him. + +_Francis_. +She has not seen us yet. Now what to do? + +_Valentine_. +Quick! Where's your handkerchief? Truss his wrists and ankles, +And pull his coat up over his head and leave him! +He won't get free of her again; she'll lead +His wildness home and keep him tame for ever. +Now! + + [_They fall on him, bind him, and blindfold him_. + +_Sylvan_. +What are you doing? Whatever are you doing? +Hell burn you, let me go! + +_Valentine_. + There's worse to come. + + [_They make off, and leave_ SYLVAN _shouting_. + KATRINA _runs in_. + +_Katrina_. +Dear Heaven! Were they robbers? Have they hurt you? + + [_She releases him. He stands up_. + +_Sylvan_. +Katrina! + +_Katrina_. + Sylvan! + +_Sylvan_. + How did you plot this? +I thought I'd put leagues between you and me. + +_Katrina_. +Why have you come here? + +_Sylvan_. + To find you, it seems. +But what you're doing here, that I'ld like to know. + +_Katrina_. +I came to see my grandmother: she lives +All by herself, poor grannam, and it's time +She had some help about the house, and care. + +_Sylvan_. +Let's have a better tale. You followed me. + +_Katrina_. +Sylvan, how dare you make me out so vile? + +_Sylvan_. +How dare you mean to make this body of mine +A thing with no thought in it but your beauty? + +_Katrina_. +You shall not speak so wickedly. You've had +The half of my truth only: here's the whole. +It was from you I fled! I hoped to make +My grannam's lonely cottage something safe +From you and what I hated in you. + +_Sylvan_. + Love?-- +Ah, so it's all useless. + +_Katrina_. + I feared to know +You wanted me,--horribly I feared it. +And now you've found me out. + +_Sylvan_. + Is this the truth?-- +No help for it, then. + +_Katrina_. + O, I'm a liar to you! + +_Sylvan_. +Strange how we grudge to be ruled! rather than be +Divinely driven to happiness, we push back +And fiercely try for wilful misery.-- +Dearest, forgive me being cruel to you, +You who are in life like a heavenly dream +In the evil sleep of a sinner. + +_Katrina_. + No, you hate me. + +_Sylvan (kissing her)_. +Is this like hatred? + +_Katrina (in his arms)_. + Sylvan, I have been +So wrencht and fearfully used. It was as if +This being that I live in had become +A savage endless water, wild with purpose +To tire me out and drown me. + +_Sylvan_. + Yes, I know: +Like swimming against a mighty will, that wears +The cruelty, the race and scolding spray +Of monstrous passionate water. + +_Katrina_. + Hold me, Sylvan +I'm bruised with my sore wrestling. + +_Sylvan_. + Ah, but now +We are not swimmers in this dangerous life. +It cannot beat upon our limbs with surf +Of water clencht against us, nor can waves +Now wrangle with our breath. Out of it we +Are lifted; and henceforward now we are +Sailors travelling in a lovely ship, +The shining sails of it holding a wind +Immortally pleasant, and the malicious sea +Smoothed by a keel that cannot come to wreck. + +_Katrina_. +Alas, we must not stay together here. +Grannam will come upon us. + +_Sylvan_. + Where is she? + +_Katrina_. +Yonder, gathering driftwood for her fire. +There is a little bay not far from here, +The shingle of it a thronging city of flies, +Feeding on the dead weed that mounds the beach; +And the sea hoards there its vain avarice,-- +Old flotsam, and decaying trash of ships. +An arm of reef half locks it in, and holds +The bottom of the bay deep strewn with seaweed, +A barn full of the harvesting of storms; +And at full tide, the little hampered waves +Lift up the litter, so that, against the light, +The yellow kelp and bracken of the sea, +Held up in ridges of green water, show +Like moss in agates. And there is no place +In all the coast for wreckage like this bay; +There often will my grannam be, a sack +Over her shoulders, turning up the crust +Of sun-dried weed to find her winter's warmth. + +_Sylvan_. +Is that she coming? + +_Katrina_. + O Sylvan, has she seen us? + +_Sylvan_. +What matter if she has? + +_Katrina_. + But it would matter! + +_Sylvan_. +Katrina, come with me now! We'll go together +Back to my house. + +_Katrina_. + No, no, not now! I must +Carry my grannam's load for her: 'tis heavy. + +_Sylvan_. +We must not part again. + +_Katrina_. + No, not for long; +For if we do, there will be storms again, +I know; and a fierce reluctance--O, a mad +Tormenting thing!--will shake me. + +_Sylvan_. + Then come now! + +_Katrina_. +Not now, not now! Look how my poor grannam +Shuffles under the weight; she's old for burdens. +I must carry her sack for her. + +_Sylvan_. + Well, to-night! + +_Katrina_. +To-night?--O Sylvan! dare I? + +_Sylvan_. + Yes, you dare! +You will be knowing I'm outside in the darkness, +And you will come down here and give me yourself +Wholly and forever. + +_Katrina_. + O not to-night! + +_Sylvan_. +I shall be here, Katrina, waiting for you. + [_He goes_. + +_The old woman comes in burdened with her sack_. + +_Grandmother_. +Katrina, that was a young man with you. + +_Katrina_. +O grannam, you've had luck to-day; but now +It's I must be the porter. + +_Grandmother (giving up the sack)_. + Ay, you take it. +It's sore upon my back. You should have care +Of these young fellows; there's a devil in them. +Never you talk with a man on the seashore +Or on hill-tops or in woods and suchlike places, +Especially if he's one you think of marrying. + +_Katrina_. +Marrying? I shall never be married! + +_Grandmother_. + Pooh! +That's nonsense. + +_Katrina_. + I should think 'twas horrible +Even to be in love and wanting to give +Yourself to another; but to be married too, +A man holding the very heart of you,-- + +_Grandmother_. +He never does, honey, he never does.-- +We're late; come along home. + +II + +_In_ SYLVAN'S _house_. SYLVAN _and_ KATRINA _talking to +each other and betweenwhiles thinking to themselves_. + +_Sylvan_. +How pleasant and beautiful it is to be +At last obedient to love! (_To know +Also, I've sold myself,--is that so pleasant_?) + +_Katrina_. +I cannot think, why such a glorious wealth +As this of love on our hearts should be spent. +What have we done, that all this gain be ours? +(_Nor can I think why my life should be mixt, +Even its dearest secrecy, with another_.) + +_Sylvan_. +Ay, there's the marvel! If to enter life +Needed some courage, 'twere a kind of wages, +As they let sacking soldiers take home loot: +But we are shuffled into life like puppets +Emptied out of a showman's bag; and then +Made spenders of the joys current in heaven! +(_Not such a marvel neither, if this love +Be but the price I'm paid for my free soul. +Who's the old trader that has lent this girl +The glittering cash of pleasure to pay me with? +Who is it,--the world, or the devil, or God--that wants +To buy me from myself?_) + +_Katrina_. + And then how vain +To think we can hold back from being enricht! +It is not only offered-- + +_Sylvan_. + No, 'tis a need +As irresistible within our hearts +As body's need of breathing. (_That I should be +So avaricious of his gleaming price!_) + +_Katrina_. +And the instant force it has upon us, when +We think to use love as a privilege! +We are like bees that, having fed all day +On mountain-heather, go to a tumbling stream +To please their little honey-heated thirsts; +And soon as they have toucht the singing relief, +The swiftness of the water seizes them. + +_Sylvan_. +And onward, sprawling and spinning, they are carried +Down to a drowning pool. + +_Katrina_. + O Sylvan, drowning? +(_Deeper than drowning! Why should it not be +Our hearts need wish only what they delight in_?) + +_Sylvan_. +Well, altogether gript by the being of love. +(_Yes, now the bargain's done; and I may wear, +Like a cheated savage, scarlet dyes and strings +Of beaded glass, all the pleasure of love_!) + +_Katrina_. +It is a wonderful tyranny, that life +Has no choice but to be delighted love! +(_I know what I must do: I am to abase +My heart utterly, and have nothing in me +That dare take pleasure beyond serving love. +Thus only shall I bear it; and perhaps-- +Might I even of my abasement make +A passion, fearfully enjoying it_?) + +_Sylvan_. +You are full of thoughts, sweetheart? + +_Katrina_. + And so are you: +A long while since you kist me! (_What have I said? +O fool so to remind him! I shall scarce +Help crying out or shuddering this time!-- +Ah no; I am again a fool! Not thus +I am to do, but in my heart to break +All the reluctance; it must have on me +No pleasure; else I am endlessly tortured_.) +Then I must kiss you, Sylvan! + + [_She kisses him_. + +_Sylvan_. + Ah, my darling! +(_God! it went through my flesh as thrilling sound +Must shake a fiddle when the strings are snatcht! +Will she make the life in me all a slave +Of my kist body,--a trembling, eager slave? +It ran like a terror to my heart, the sense, +The shivering delight upon my skin, +Of her lips touching me_.) My beloved,-- +It may be it were wise, that we took care +Our pleasant love come never in the risk +Of being too much known. + +_Katrina_. + O what a risk +To think of here! Love is not common life, +But always fresh and sweet. Can this grow stale? + + [_She kisses him again_. + +_Sylvan_. +O never! I meant not so.--Yes, always sweet! +(_She must not kiss me! Ah, it leaves my heart +Aghast, and stopt with pain of the joy of her; +And her loved body is like an agony +Clinging upon me. O she must not kiss me! +I will not be a thing excruciated +To please her passion, an anguish of delight!_) + + + + +PART III + +VIRGINITY AND PERFECTION + + + + +JUDITH + + +I + +THE BESIEGED CITY OF BETHULIA + +JUDITH (_at the window of an upper room of her house_). + +This pitiable city!--But, O God, +Strengthen me that I bend not into scorn +Of all this desperate folk; for I am weak +With pitying their lamentable souls. +Ah, when I hear the grief wail'd in the streets, +And the same breath their tears nigh strangle, used +To brag the God in them inviolate +And fighting off the hands of the heathen,--Lord, +Pardon me that I come so near to scorn; +Pardon me, soul of mine, that I have loosed +The rigour of my mind and leant towards scorn!-- + Friends, wives and husbands, sons and daughters, dead +Of plague, famine, and arrows: and the houses +Battered unsafe by cannonades of stone +Hurled in by the Assyrians: the town-walls +Crumbling out of their masonry into mounds +Of foolish earth, so smitten by the rams: +The hunger-pangs, the thirst like swallowed lime +Forcing them gulp green water maggot-quick +That lurks in corners of dried cisterns: yea, +Murders done for a drink of blood, and flesh +Sodden of infants: and no hope alive +Of rescue from this heat of prisoning anguish +Until Assyrian swords drown it in death;-- +These, and abandoned words like these, I hear +Daylong shrill'd and groan'd in the lanes beneath. +What needeth Holofernes more? The Jews, +The People of God, the Jews, lament their fortune; +Their souls are violated by the world; +Jewry is conquered; and the crop of men +Sown for the barns of God, is withered down, +Like feeblest grass flat-trodden by the sun, +In one short season of fear. Yea, swords and fire +Can do no more destruction on this folk: +A fierce untimely mowing now befits +This corn incapable of sacred bread, +This field unprofitable but to flame! + What should the choice of God do for a people, +But give them souls of temper to withstand +The trying of the furnace of the world?-- +And they are molten, and from God's device +Unfashion'd, crazed in dismay; yea, God's skill +Fails in them, as the skill a founder put +In brass fails when the coals seize on his work. +For this fierce Holofernes and his power, +This torture poured on the city, is no more +Than a wild gust of wicked heat breathed out +Against our God-wrought souls by the world's furnace. +No new thing, this camp about the city: +Nebuchadnezzar and his hosted men +But fearfully image, like a madman's dream, +The fierce infection of the world, that waits +To soil the clean health of the soul and mix +Stooping decay into its upward nature. +Soul in the world is all besieged: for first +The dangerous body doth desire it; +And many subtle captains of the mind +Secretly wish against its fortune; next, +Circle on circle of lascivious world +Lust round the foreign purity of soul +For chance or violence to ravish it. + But the pure in the world are mastery. +Divinely do I know, when life is clean, +How like a noble shape of golden glass +The passions of the body, powers of the mind, +Chalice the sweet immortal wine of soul, +That, as a purple fragrance dwells in air +From vintage poured, fills the corrupting world +With its own savour. And here I am alone +Sound in my sweetness, incorrupt; the rest +(They noise it unashamed) are stuff gone sour; +The world has meddled with them. They have broacht +The wine that had pleas'd God to flocking thirst +Of flies and wasps, to fears and worldly sorrows. +Nay, they are poured out into the dung of the world, +And drench, pollute, the fortune of their state, +When they should have no fortune but themselves +And the God in them, and be sealed therein. + Ah, my sweet soul, that knoweth its own sweetness, +Where only love may drink, and only--alas!-- +The ghost of love. But I am sweet for him, +For him and God, and for my sacred self! + But hark, a troop of new woe comes this way, +Making the street to ring and the stones wet +With cried despair and brackish agony. + +CITIZENS _lamenting in the street below_. +They have crawled back like beasts dying of thirst, +The life all clotted in them. They went out +Soldiers, and back like beaten dogs they came +Breathing in whines, slow maimed four-footed things +On hands and knees degraded, groaning steps. +Their brains were full of battle, they were made +Of virtue, brave men; now in their brains shudder +Minds that cringe like children burnt with fever. +Often they stood to face the enemies' ranks +All upright as a flame in windless air, +Wearing their arm and the bright skill of swords +Like spirits clad in flashing fire of heaven; +And now in darken'd rooms they lie afraid +And whimper if the nurse moves suddenly.-- +Ah God, that such an irresistible fiend, +Pain, in the beautiful housing of man's flesh +Should sleep, light as a leopard in its hunger, +Beside the heavenly soul; and at a wound +Leap up to mangle her, the senses' guest!-- +That in God's country heathen men should do +This worse than murder on men full of God! + +_Judith_. +What matter of new wailing do your tongues +Wear in this shivering misery of sound? + +_A Citizen_. +The captains which were chosen to go out +And treat with Holofernes have come back. + +_Judith_. +And did the Ninevite demon treat with them? + +_A Citizen_. +The words they had from him were flaying knives, +And burning splinters fixt in their skinless flesh, +And stones thrown till their breasts were broken in. + +_Judith_. +What, torture our embassage? + +_A Citizen_. + Yea, for he means +Nothing but death to all the Jews he takes. + +_Another_. +There was a jeering word tied round the neck +Of each tormented man: "Behold, ye Jews, +These chiefs of yours have learnt to crawl in prayer +Before the god Nebuchadnezzar; come, +Leave your city of thirst and your weak god, +And learn good worship even as these have learnt." + +_Another_. +I saw them coming in: O horrible! +With broken limbs creeping along the ground-- + +_Judith_. +Were I a man among you, I would not stay +Behind the walls to weep this insolence; +I'ld take a sword in my hand and God in my mind, +And seek under the friendship of the night +That tent where Holofernes' crimes and hate +Sleep in his devilish brain. + +_A Citizen_. + There is no night +Where Holofernes sleeps, as thou couldst tell. +Didst thou not shut thyself up in thine ease +Away from the noise and tears of common woe. +Come to the walls this evening, and I'll show thee +The golden place of light, the little world +Of triumphing glory framed in midst of the dark, +Pillar'd on four great bonfires fed with spice, +Enclosing in a globe of flame the tent +Wherein the sleepless lusts of Holofernes +Madden themselves all night, a revel-rout +Of naked girls luring him as he lies +Filling his blood with wine, the scented air +Injur'd marvellously with piping shrills +Of lechery made music, and small drums +That with a dancing throb drive his swell'd heart +Into desires beyond the strength of man. + +_Judith_. +And this beast is thine enemy, God! + +_Another Citizen_. + Nor beast, +Nor man, but one of those lascivious gods +Our lonely God detests, Chemosh or Baal +Or Peor who goes whoring among women. + +_Another_. +And now come down braving in God's own land, +Pitching the glory of his fearful heaven +All night among God's hills. + +_Judith_. + You fools, he is +A life our God could snap as a woman snaps +Thread of her sewing. + +_A Citizen_. + Who shall break him off, +Who on the earth, from his huge twisted power? + +_Another_. +For in his brain, as in a burning-glass +Wide glow of sun drawn to a pin of fire, +Are gathered into incredible fierceness all +The rays of the dark heat of heathen strength. + +_Another_. +His eyes, they say, can kill a man. + +_Another_. + And sure +No murder could approach his naming nights. + +_Another_. +Unless it came as a woman at whose beauty +His lust hath never sipt; for into his flesh +To drink unknown desirable limbs as wine +Torments him still, like a thirst when fever pours +A man's life out in drenching sweats. + +_Judith_. + Peace, peace; +The siege hath given you shameless tongues, and minds +No more your own: yea, the foul Ninevite +Hath mastered you already, for your thoughts +Dwell in his wickedness and marvel at it. +Hate not a thing too much, lest you be drawn +Wry from yourselves and close to the thing ye hate. + +_A Citizen_. +We know thy wisdom, Judith; but our lives +Belong to death; and wisdom to a man +Dying, is water in a broken jar. + +_Judith_. +Yea, if thou wilt die of a parching mouth. + +_A Citizen_. +Thou art rich, and thou hast much cool store of wine. +But the town thirsts, and every beat of our blood +Hastens us on to maniac agony. +The Assyrians have our wells, and half the tanks +Are dry, and the pools shoal with baking mud: +The water left to us is pestilent. +And therefore have we asked the governors +For death: and it is granted us. + +_Another_. + Five days +Hath Prince Ozias bidden us endure. + +_Another_. +For there are still fools among us who dare trust +God has not made a bargain of our lives. + +_Another_. +We are a small people, and our war is weak: +Who knows whether our God doth not desire +Armies and great plains full of spears and horses, +And cities made of bronze and hewn white stone +And scarlet awnings, throng'd with sworded men, +To shout his name up from the earth and kill +All crying at the gates of other heavens; +And hath grown tired of peaceable praise and folk +That in a warren of dry mountains dwell, +Whose few throats can make little noise in heaven. + +_A Young Man_. +For sure God's love hath wandered to strange nations; +His pleasure in the breasts of Jerusalem +Is a delight grown old. Yea, he would change +That shepherd-woman of the earthly cities, +Whose mind is as the clear light of her hills, +Full of the sound of a hundred waters falling; +And poureth his desire out, belike, +Upon that queen the wealth of the world hath clad, +Babylon, for whose golden bed the gods +Wrangle like young men with great gifts and boasts; +Whose mind is as a carbuncle of fire, +Full of the sound of amazing flames of music. + +_Another_. +Yea, what can Israel offer against her, +Whom the rich earth out of her mines hath shod, +And crowned with emeralds grown in secret rocks, +Who on her shoulders wears the gleam of the sea's +Purple and pearls, and the flax of Indian ground +Is linen on her limbs cool as moonlight, +And fells of golden beasts cover her throne; +Whose passion moves in her thought as in the air +Melody moves of flutes and silver horns: +What can Jerusalem the hill-city +Offer to keep God's love from Babylon? + +_Judith_. +What but the beauty of holiness, and sound +Of music made by hearts adoring God? +You that speak lewdly of God, you yet shall see +Jerusalem treading upon her foes. +But what was that of five days one of you spoke? + +_A Citizen_. +Ozias sware an oath: hast thou not heard? + +_Judith_. +No, for I keep my mind away from your tongues +Wisely. Who walks in wind-blown dust of streets, +That hath a garden where the roses breathe? + +_A Citizen_. +I have no garden where the roses breathe; +I have a city full of women crying +And babies starving and men weak with thirst +Who fight each other for a dole of water. + +_Another_. +Not only thou hast pleasant garden-hours, +Judith, here in Bethulia; the Lord Death +Has bought the city for his garden-close, +And saunters in it watching the souls bloom +Out of their buds of flesh, and with delight +Smelling their agony. + +_Another_. + But in five days +Either our God will turn his mind to us, +Or, if he careth not for us nor his honour, +Ozias will let open the main gate +And let the Assyrians end our dreadful lives. + +_Judith_. +O I belong to a nation utterly lost! +God! thou hast no tribe on the earth; thy folk +Are helpless in the living places like +The ghosts that grieve in the winds under the earth. +Remember now thy glory among the living, +And let the beauty of thy renown endure +In a firm people knitted like the stone +Of hills, no mischief harms of frost or fire; +But now dust in a gale of fear they are. +They have blasphemed thee; but forgive them, God; +And let my life inhabit to its end +The spirit of a people built to God.-- +So you have given God five days to come +And help you? You would make your souls as wares +Merchants hold up to bidders, and say, "God, +Pay us our price of comfort, or we sell +To death for the same coin"? Five days God hath +To find the cost of Jewry, or death buys you? + +_A Citizen_. +Here comes Ozias: ask him. + +_Judith_. + Hold him there. + + [JUDITH _comes down into the street_. + +_Ozias_. +Judith, I came to speak with thee. + +_Judith_. + And I +Would speak with thee. What tale is this they tell +That thou hast sworn to give this people death? + +_Ozias_. +In five days those among us who still live +Will have no souls but the fierce anguish of thirst. +If God ere then relieves us, well. If not, +We give ourselves away from God to death. + +_Judith_. +Darest thou do this wickedness, and set +Conditions to the mercy of our God? + +_Ozias_. +Death hath a mercy equal unto God's.-- +Look at the air above thee; is there sign +Of mercy in that naked splendour of fire? +Too Godlike! We are his: he covers us +With golden flame of air and firmament +Of white-hot gold, marvellous to see. +But whom, what heathen land hated of God, +Do his grey clouds shadow with comfort of rain? +Over our chosen heads his glory glows: +And in five days the torment in his city +Will be beyond imagining. We will go +Through swords into the quiet and cloud of death. + +_Judith_. +Ozias, wilt thou be an infamy? +Bethulia fallen, all Judea lies +Open to the feet and hoofs of Assyria. + +_Ozias_. +Yea, and what doth Judea but cower down +Behind us? There's no rescue comes from there. +We are alone with Holofernes' power. + +_Judith_. +But if we hold him off, will he not grant +The meed of a brave fight, captivity?-- +Or we may treat with him, make terms for yielding. + +_Ozias_. +We know his mind: he hath written it plain +In the torn flesh of our ambassadors. +His mind to us is death; we can but choose +Between sharp swords and the slow slaying of thirst. + +_Judith_. +He may torment us if we yield. + +_Ozias_. + He may. +But not to yield is grisly and sure torment. + +_Judith_. +There must be hope, if we could reckon right! + +_Ozias_. +Well, thou and God have five days more to build +A bridge of hope over our broken world. +And, for the town even now fearfully aches +In scalding thirst, not five days had I granted, +Had it not been for somewhat I must say +Secretly to thee. + +_Judith_. + Secretly? Then here; +Send off these men to labour at their groans +Elsewhere; for not within my house thou comest; +I'll have no thoughts against God in my house. + + [OZIAS _disperses the citizens_. + +_Ozias_. +Judith, we are two upright minds in this +Herd of grovelling cowardice. We should, +To spiritual vision which can see +Stature of spirit, seem to stand in our folk +Like two unaltered stanchions in the heap +Of a house pulled down by fire. I know thy soul +Tempered by trust in God against this ruin; +But not in God, but in mortality +Thy soul stands founded; and death even now +Is digging at thy station in the world; +And as a man with ropes and windlasses +Pulls for new building columns of wreckt halls +Down with a breaking fall, so death has rigged +His skill about us, so he will break us down, +Ruin our height and courage; and as stone, +Carved with the beautiful pride of kings, hath made, +Hammer'd to rubble and ground for mortar, walls +Of farms and byres, our kill'd and broken natures, +With all their beauty of passion, yea, and delight +In God, death will shape and grind up to new +Housing for souls not royal as we are, +New flesh and mind for mean souls and dull hearts: +For death is only life destroying life +To roof the coming swarms in mortal shelter +Of flesh and mind experienced in joy. + +_Judith_. +Thy specious prologue means no good, I trow. +Thou wert to tell me wherefore for five days +We may pretend to be God's people still; +Why thou didst not make us over to death +Soon as the folk began to wail despair. + +_Ozias_. +This reasoning will tell thee why.--No need, +I think, to bring up into speech the years +Since in the barley-field Manasses lay +Shot by the sun. I tried (nor failed, I think), +To hold thy soul up from its hurt, and be +Somewhat of sight to thee, until thy long +Blind season of disaster should be changed. +Always I have found friendship in thine eyes; +And pleasant words, and silences more pleasant, +Have made us moments wherein all the world +Left our sequester'd minds; so that I dared +Often believe our friendliness might be +The brink of love. + +_Judith_. + Stop! for thou hast enough +Disgraced mine ears. + +_Ozias_. + I pray thee hear me out. +The dream of loving thee and being loved +Hath been my life; yea, with it I have kept +My heart drugg'd in a long delicious night +Colour'd with candles of imagined sense, +And musical with dreamt desire. I said, +The day will surely come upon the world, +To scatter this sweet night of fantasy +With morning, pour'd on my dream-feasted heart +Out of thine eyes, Judith. And yet I still +Feared for my dream, even as a maiden fears +The body of her lover. But, in the midst +Of all this charm'd delaying,--behold Death +Leapt into our world, lording it, standing huge +In front of the future, looking at us! +Thou seest now why, when the people came +Crying wildly to be given up to death, +I bade them wait five days?--That I at last +Might stamp the image of my glorious dream +Upon the world, even though it be wax +And the fires are kindling that must melt it out. +Judith, thou hast now five days more to live +This life of beautiful passion and sweet sense: +And now my love comes to thee like an angel +To call thee out of thy visionary love +For lost Manasses, out of ghostly desire +And shadows of dreams housing thy soul, that are +Vainer than mine were, dreams of dear things which death +Hath for ever broken; and lead thy life +To a brief shadowless place, into an hour +Made splendid to affront the coming night +By passion over sense more grandly burning +Than purple lightning over golden corn, +When all the distance of the night resounds +With the approach of wind and terrible rain, +That march to torment it down to the ground. +Judith, shall we not thus together make +Death admirable, yea, and triumph through +The gates of anguish with a prouder song +Than ever lifted a king's heart, who rode +Back from his war, with nations whipt before him, +Into trumpeting Nineveh? + +_Judith_. + Thou fool, +Death is nothing to me, and life is all. +But what foul wrong have I done to thee, Ozias, +That thou shouldst go about to put such wrong +Into my life as these defiling words? + +_Ozias_. +Is it defilement to hear love spoken? + +_Judith_. +Yes! thou hast soiled me: to know my beauty, +Wherewith I loved Manasses, and still love, +Has all these years dwelt in thy heart a dream +Of favourite lust,--O this is foul in my mind. + +_Ozias_. +I meant not what thou callest lust, but love. + +_Judith_. +What matters that? Thou hast desired me. +And knowing that, I feel my beauty clutch +About my soul with a more wicked shame +Than if I lived corrupt with leprosy. + +_Ozias_. +Wilt thou still let the dead have claim on thee? +Judith, wilt thou be married to a grave? + +_Judith_. +I am married to my love; and it is vile, +Yea, it is burning in me like a sin, +That when my love was absent, thy desire +Shouldst trespass where my love is single lord. + +_Ozias_. +This is but superstition. Love belongs +To living souls. It is a light that kills +Shadows and ghosts haunting about the mind. +Yea, even now when death glooms so immense +Over the heaven of our being, Love +Would keep us white with day amid the dark +Down-coming of the storm, till the end took us. +And joy is never wasted. If we love, +Then although death shall break and bray our flesh, +The joy of love that thrilled in it shall fly +Past his destruction, subtle as fragrance, strong +And uncontrollable as fire, to dwell +In the careering onward of man's life, +Increasing it with passion and with sweetness. +Duty is on us therefore that we love +And be loved. Wert thou made to set alight +Such splendour of desire in man, and yet, +For a grave's sake, keep all thy beauty null, +And nothing be of good nor help to thy kind? + +_Judith_. +Help? What help in me? + +_Ozias_. + To let go forth +The joy whereof thy beauty is the sign +Into the mind of man, and be therein +Courage of golden music and loud light +Against his enemies, the eternal dark +And silence. + +_Judith_. + Ah, not thus. Yet--could I not help?-- +Why talk we? What thing should I say to thee +To pierce the pride of lust wrapping thy heart? +How show thee that, as in maidens unloved +There is virginity to make their sex +Shrink like a wound from eyes of love untimely, +So in a woman who hath learnt herself +By her own beauty sacred in the clasp +Of him whom her desire hath sacred made, +There is a fiercer and more virgin wrath +Against all eyes that come desiring her? + +[_A Psalm of many voices strikes their ears, and through +the street pass old men chanting, followed and +answered by a troop of young men_. + +_Chorus: Old Men_. +Wilt thou not examine our hearts, O Lord God of our strength? +Wilt thou still be blindly trying us? Wilt thou not at length +Believe the crying of our words, that never our knees have bent +To foreign gods, nor any Jewish mouth or brain hath sent +Prayers to beseech the favour of abominable thrones +Worshipt by the heathen men with furnaces, wounds, and groans? + +_Young Men_. +And what good in our lives, strength or delighted glee, + Hath God paid to purchase our purity? +Though lust starve in our flesh, still he devises fire + To prove our lives pure as his fierce desire. +With huge heathenish tribes roaring exultant here, + Jewry fights as maid with a ravisher: + Tribes who better than we deal with the gods their lords, +For they pleasantly sin, yet the gods sharpen and drive their swords. + +_Old Men_. +Hast thou not tried us enough, Jehovah? Hast thou found any fire +Will draw from our hearts a smoke of burn'd idolatrous desire? +There is none in us, Lord: no other God in us but thee; +Only thy fires make our clean souls glitter with agony. +Pure we are, pure in our prayers, pure our souls look to thee, Lord; +And to be shewn to the world devoured by evil is our reward. + +_Young Men_. + We whose hearts were alone giving our God renown, + Under the wheels of hell we are fallen down! + False the heaven we built, fashion'd of purity; + 'Tis heathen heavens, made out of sin, stand high. + Come, make much of our God! Comfort his ears with song, + Lest his pride the gods with their laughter wrong, + Seeing, huddled as beasts held by a fearful night +Full of lions and hunger, his folk crouch to the heathen might. + +_Old Men_. +Jehovah, still we refrain from crying to the infamous gates +That open easily into the heavens thy mind of jealousy hates. +Power is in them: hast thou no power? Wilt thou not beware +Lest thy mood now press our minds to venturous despair? + +_Young Men_. +Fool'd, fool'd, fool'd are our lives, held by the world in jeer; + With crazed eyes we behold veils of enormous fear + Hiding dreadfully those marvellous gates and stairs +Where the heathen delighted with sin throng with their prosperous prayers. + +_Old Men_. +Yea, hung like the front of pestilent winds, thunderous dark before +The way into the heathen heavens, terrible curtains pour, +Webs of black imagination and woven frenzy of sin; +And yet we know power on earth belongs to those within. + +_Young Men_. + Yea, through Jehovah's jealousy, + Burning dimly at last we see + The great brass made like rigid flame, + The gates of the heavens we dare not name. + Take hold of wickedness! Yea, have heart + To tear the darkness of sin apart; + And find, beyond, our comforted sight + Flash full of a glee of fiery light,-- + The gods the heathen know through sin, + The gods who give them the world to win! + +_Judith_. +This may I not escape. My world hath need +Of me who still hold God firm in my mind. +It is no matter if I fail: I must +Send the God in me forth, and yield to him +The shaping of whatever chance befall.-- +Ozias! hateful thou hast made thyself +To me; for thou hast hatefully soiled my beauty, +My preciousest, given me to attire my soul +For her long marriage festival of life. +Yet I must make request to thee, and thou +Must grant it. When the sun is down to-night, +Quietly set the main gate open: I +Will pass therethrough and treat with Holofernes. + +_Ozias_. +What, wilt thou go to be murdered by these fiends? + +_Judith_. +Ask nothing, but do simply my request. + +_Ozias_. +I will: so thou shalt know the reverent heart +I have for thee, although its worship thou +So bitterly despisest; but thy will +Shall be a sacred thing for me to serve. +Thou hast thy dangerous demand, because +It is thou who askest, it is I who may +Grant it to thee,--this only! Yea, I will send +Thy heedless body among risks that thou, +Looking alone at the great shining God +Within thy mind, seest not; but I see +And sicken at them. Yet do I not require +Thy purpose; whether thy proud heart must have +The wound of death from steel that has not toucht +The peevish misery these Jews call blood; +Whether thy mind is for velvet slavery +In the desires of some Assyrian lord-- +Forgive me, Judith! there my love spoke, made +Foolish with injury; and I should be +Unwise to stay here, lest it break the hold +I have it in. I go, and I am humbled. +But thou shalt have thy asking: the gate is thine. + [_He goes_. + +_Judith_. +How can it harm me more, to feel my beauty +Read by man's eyes to mean his lust set forth? +Yea, Holofernes now can bring no shame +Upon me that Ozias hath not brought. +But this is chief: what balance can there be +In my own hurt against a nation's pining? +God hath given me beauty, and I may +Snare with it him whose trap now bites my folk. +There is naught else to think of. Let me go +And set those robes in order which best pleased +Manasses' living eyes; and let me fill +My gown with jewels, such as kindle sight, +And have some stinging sweetness in my hair.-- +Manasses, my Manasses, lost to me, +Gone where my love can nothing search, and hidden +Behind the vapours of these worldly years, +The many years between me and thy death; +Thine ears are sealed with immortal blessedness +Against our miserable din of living; +Through thy pure sense goeth no soil of grief. +Forgive me! for thou hast left me here to be hurt +And moved to pity by the dolour of men. +The garment of my soul is splasht with sorrow, +Sorrowful noise and sight; and like to fires +Of venom spat on me, the sorrow eats +Through the thin robe of sense into my soul. +And it is cried against me, this keen anguish, +By my own people and my God's;--and thou +Didst love them. Therefore thou must needs forgive me, +That I devise how this my beauty, this +Sacred to thy long-dead joy of desire, +May turn to weapon in the hand of God; +Such weapon as he hath taken aforetime +To sword whole nations at a stroke to their knees,-- +Storms of the air and hilted fire from heaven, +And sightless edge of pestilence hugely swung +Down on the bulk of armies in the night. +Such weapon in God's hand, and wielded so, +A woman's beauty may be now, I pray; +A pestilence suddenly in this foreign blood, +A blight on the vast growth of Assyrian weed, +A knife to the stem of its main root, the heart +Of Holofernes. God! Let me hew him down, +And out of the ground of Israel wither our plague! + + +II + +BEFORE THE TENT OF HOLOFERNES + +_Holofernes_. +Night and her admirable stars again! +And I again envying her and questioning! +What hast thou, Night, achieved, denied to me, +That maketh thee so full of quiet stars? +What beauty has been mingled into thee +So that thy depth burns with the peace of stars?-- +I now with fires of uproarious heat, +Exclaiming yellow flames and towering splendour +And a huge fragrant smoke of precious woods, +Must build against thy overlooking, Stars, +And against thy terrible eternal news +Of Beauty that burns quietly and pure, +A lodge of wild extravagant earthly fire; +Even as under passions of fleshly pleasure +I hide myself from my desiring soul. + + [_Enter Guards with_ JUDITH. + +_Guard_ 1. + + We found this woman wandering in the trenches, +And calling out, "Take me to Holofernes, +Assyrians, I am come for Holofernes." + +_Guard_ 2. + + She would not, for no words of ours, unveil, +And something held us back from handling her. + +_Guard_ 1. + + We think she must be beautiful, although +She is so stubborn with that veil of hers. + +_Guard_ 2. + + We minded my lord's word, that he be shewn +All the seized women which are strangely fair. + +_Holofernes_. +Take off thy veil. + +_Judith_. + I will not. + +_Holofernes_. + Take thy veil +From off thy face, Jewess, or thou straight goest +To entertain my soldiers. + +_Judith_. + I will not. + +_Holofernes_. +Am I to tear it, then? + +_Judith_. + My lord, thou durst not. + +_Holofernes_. +Ha, there is spirit here. I have the whim, +Jewess, almost to believe thee: I dare not! +But tell me who thou art. + +_Judith_. + That shalt thou know +Before the night has end. + +_Holofernes_. + Take off thy veil. + +_Judith_. +Alone for Holofernes am I come. + +_Holofernes_. +And there is only Holofernes here. +These fellows are but thoughts of mine; my whole +Army, that treads down all the earth and breaks +The banks of fending rivers into marsh, +Is nought but my forth-going imagination. +Where I am, there is no man else: if I +Appeared before thee in a throng of spears, +I'ld stand alone before thee, girt about +By powers of my mind made visible. + +_Judith_. +For captured peasants or for captured kings +Such words would have the right big sound. But I +Am woman, and I hear them not: I say +I will not, before any man but thee, +Make known my face; I am only for thee. +When I have thee alone and in thy tent +I will unveil. + +_Holofernes (to the Guards)_. + What! Staring?--Hence, you dogs! + + +III + +IN THE TENT OF HOLOFERNES + +_Holofernes (alone with Judith)_. +Thou art the woman! Thou hast come to me!-- +O not as I thought! not with senses blazing +Far into my deep soul abiding calm +Within their glory of knowledge, as the vast +Of night behind her outward sense of stars. +Now am I but the place thy beauty brightens, +And of myself I have no light of sense +Nor certainty of being: I am made +Empty of all my wont of life before thee, +A vessel where thy splendour may be poured, +After the way the great vessel of air +Accepts the morning power of the sun. +Now nothing I have known of me remains, +Save that, within me, far as the world is high +Beneath this dawn that gilds my spirit's air, +Some depth, more inward even than my soul, +Troubles and flashes like the shining sea. + O Jewish woman, if thou knewest all +The hunger and the tears the punisht world +Suffers by cause of thee, and of my dream +That thou wert somewhere hidden in mankind! +I could not but obey my dream, and toil +To break the nations and to sift them fine, +Pounding them with my warfare into dust, +And searching with my many iron hands +Through their destruction as through crumbs of marl, +Until my palms should know the jewel-stone +Betwixt them, the Woman who is Beauty,-- +Nature so long hath like a miser kept +Buried away from me in this heap of Jews! +Now that we twain might meet, women and men +In every land where I have felt for thee +Have taken desolation for their home, +Crying against me,--and against thee unknowing. + Ah, but I had given over to despair +The mind in me, I ground the stubborn tribes, +I quarried them like rocks and broke them small +And ground them down to flinders and to sands; +But never gleamed the jewel-stone therein, +Naught but the common flint of earth I found. +And in a dreary anger I kept on +Assailing the whole kind of man, because +Some manner of war my soul must needs inhabit. +Like a man making himself in drunken sleep +A king, my soul, drunk with its earthly war, +Kept idle all its terrible want of thee, +Believed itself managing arms with God; +Yea, when my trampling hurry through the earth +Made cloudy wind of the light human dust, +I thought myself to move in the dark danger +Of blinding God's own face with blasts of war! +Until my rage forgot his crime against me, +His hiding thee, the beauty I had dreamt. +Yea and I filled my flesh with furious pleasure, +That in the noise of it my soul should hear +No whispering thought of desperate desire. + Nevertheless, I knew well that my heart's +Sightless imagination lifted his face +Continually awake for news of thee. +But 'twas infirm and crazy waking, like +As when a starving sentry, put to guard +The sleep of a broken soldiery that flees +Through winter of wild hills from hounding foes, +Hath but the pain of frozen wounds, and fear +Feeding on his dark spirit, to watch withal. +And lo, +As suddenly, as blessedly thou comest +Now to my heart's unseeing watch for thee, +As out of the night behind him into the heart, +Drugg'd senseless with its ache, of that lost soldier +An arrow leaps, and ere the stab can hurt, +His frozen waking is the ease of death. +So I am killed by thee; all the loud pain +Of pleasure that had lockt my heart in life, +Wherein with blinded and unhearing face +My hope of thee yet stood and strained to look +And listen for thy coming,--all this life +Is killed before thee; yea, like marvellous death, +Spiritual sense invests my heart's desire; +And round the quiet and content thereof, +The striving hunger of my fleshly sense +Fails like a web of hanging cloth in fire.-- +Tell me now, if thou knowest, why thou hast come! + +_Judith_. +Sufficeth not for us that I have come?-- +Let not unseemly things live in my mouth; +Yet I would praise thee as thou praisest me, +But in a manner that my people use, +Things to approach in song they list not speak. +And song, thou knowest, inwrought with chiming strings, +Sweetens with sweet delay loving desire: +Also thine eyes will feed, and thy heart wonder.-- + Balkis was in her marble town, + And shadow over the world came down. + Whiteness of walls, towers and piers, + That all day dazzled eyes to tears, + Turned from being white-golden flame, + And like the deep-sea blue became. + Balkis into her garden went; + Her spirit was in discontent + Like a torch in restless air. + Joylessly she wandered there, + And saw her city's azure white + Lying under the great night, + Beautiful as the memory + Of a worshipping world would be + In the mind of a god, in the hour + When he must kill his outward power; + And, coming to a pool where trees + Grew in double greeneries, + Saw herself, as she went by + The water, walking beautifully, + And saw the stars shine in the glance + Of her eyes, and her own fair countenance + Passing, pale and wonderful, + Across the night that filled the pool. + And cruel was the grief that played + With the queen's spirit; and she said: + "What do I hear, reigning alone? + For to be unloved is to be alone. + There is no man in all my land + Dare my longing understand; + The whole folk like a peasant bows + Lest its look should meet my brows + And be harmed by this beauty of mine. + I burn their brains as I were sign + Of God's beautiful anger sent + To master them with punishment + Of beauty that must pour distress + On hearts grown dark with ugliness. + But it is I am the punisht one. + Is there no man, is there none, + In whom my beauty will but move + The lust of a delighted love; + In whom some spirit of God so thrives + That we may wed our lonely lives? + Is there no man, is there none?"-- + She said, "I will go to Solomon." + +_Holofernes_. +I shall not bear it: dreamed, it hath made my life +Fail almost, like a storm broken in heaven +By its internal fire; and now I feel +Love like a dreadful god coming to do +His pleasure on me, to tear me with his joy +And shred my flesh-wove strength with merciless +Utterance through me of inhuman bliss.-- +I must have more divinity within me.-- +Come to me, slave! [_Calling out to his attendants_. + +_Judith_. + Thou callest someone? Alas! +O, where's my veil?--Cry him to stay awhile!-- + +_Holofernes_. +Thou troubled with such whimsy!--But 'tis no one, +A mere sexless thing of mine. + +_Judith_. + He is coming! +I threw my veil--where?--I must bow my face +Close to the ground, or his eyes will find me out; +And--O my lord, hold him back with thy voice! + [_She has knelt down_. +Hold him in doubt to enter a moment, while +I loosen my hair into some manner of safety +Against his prying. + +_Holofernes_. + Slave, dost thou hear me? Come!-- +I marvel, room for such a paltering mood +Should be within thy mind, now so nearly +Deified with the first sense of my love. + [_A Eunuch comes in_. + +_Holofernes_. +Wine! The mightiest wine my sutlers have; +Wine with the sun's own grandeur in it, and all +The wildness of the earth conceiving Spring +From the sun's golden lust: wine for us twain! +And when thou hast brought it, burn anear my bed +Storax and cassia; and let wealth be found +To cover my bed with such strife of colour, +Crimson and tawny and purple-inspired gold, +That eyes beholding it may take therefrom +Splendid imagination of the strife +Of love with love's implacable desire. + +_Judith (still kneeling)_. +I must lean on thee now, my God! A weight +Of pitiable weakness thou must bear +And move as it were thine own strength; tell my heart +How not to sicken in abomination, +Show me the way to loathe this vile man's rage, +Now close to seize me into the use of his pleasure, +With the loathing that is terrible delight. +So that not fainting, but refresht and astonisht +And strangely spirited and divinely angry +My body may arise out of its passion, +Out of being enjoyed by this fiend's flesh. +Then man my arm; then let mine own revenge +Utter thy vengeance, Lord, as speech doth meaning; +Yea, with hate empower me to say bravely +The glittering word that even now thy mind +Purposes, God,--the swift stroke of a falchion! + +_Holofernes_. +Woman, beloved, why art thou fixt so long +Kneeling and downward crookt, and in thy hair +Darkened?--Ah, thy shoulders urging shape +Of loveliness into thy hair's pouring gleam! + +_Judith_. +Needs must I pray my Jewish God for help +Against my bridal joys. For I do fear them. + +_Holofernes_. +I also: these are the joys that fear doth own. + + +IV + +_At the Gate of Bethulia. On the walls, on either side of +the Gate, are citizens watching the Assyrian camp;_ +OZIAS _also, standing by himself_. + +_Ozias_. +When wilt thou cure thyself, spirit of the earth, +When wilt thou cure thyself of thy long fever, +That so insanely doth ferment in thee?-- +'Tis not man only: the whole blood of life +Is fever'd with desire. But as the brain, +Being lord of the body, is served by blood +So well that a hidden canker in the flesh +May send, continuous as a usury, +Its breeding venom upward, till in the brain +It vapour into enormity of dreaming: +So man is lord of life upon the earth; +And like a hastening blood his nature wells +Up out of the beasts below him, they the flesh +And he the brain, they serving him with blood; +And blood so loaden with brute lust of being +It steams the conscious leisure of man's thought +With an immense phantasma of desire, +An unsubduable dream of unknown pleasure; +Which he sends hungering forth into the world, +But never satisfied returns to him. +Who hath found beauty? Who hath not desired it? +'Tis but the feverish spirit of earthly life +Working deliriously in man, a dream +Questing the world that throngs upon man's mind +To find therein an image of herself; +And there is nothing answers her entreaty.-- + I climb towards death: it is not falling down +For me to die, but up the event of the world +As up a mighty ridge I climb, and look +With lifted vision backward down on life. +So high towards death I am gone, listless I gaze +Where on the earth beneath me, into the fires +Of that Assyrian strength, our siege of fate, +Judith, the dream of my desire of beauty, +Goes daring forth, to shape herself therein, +Seeking to fashion in its turbulence +Some deed that will be likeness of herself. +For now I know her purpose: and I know +She will be murdered there. Against the world +The beauty I have lived in, my loved dream, +Goes, wild to master the world; and she will +Therefore be murdered. It is nothing now; +Wind from the heights of death is on my brow. + +_Talk among the other watchers_. +It must be, God is for us. Such a mind +As this of Judith's could not be, unless +God had spoken it into her. She is +His special voice, to tell the Assyrians +Terrible matters. + + Is she God's? I think +'Tis Holofernes hath her now. + + If not, +Upon his soldiers he hath lavisht her. + + Not he. Now they have known her, his filled senses +Never will leave go our wonderful Judith. + + Ay, wonderful in Jewry. But there are +In Babylon women so beautiful, +They make men's spirits desperate, to know +Flesh cannot ever minister enough +Delight to ease the craving they are taskt with. + + Who talks of Babylon when God even now +Is training her fierce champion, Holofernes, +Into the death a woman holds before him? + + A woman killing Holofernes! + + Ay; +Be she abused by him or not, I know +God means to give her marvellous hands to-night. +I know it by my heart so strangely sick +With looking out for the first drowsy stir +In that huge flaming quiet of the camp. +Now fearfuller qualm than famine eagerly +Handles my life and pulls at it,--my faith's +Hunger for being fed with sounds and visions: +The firelight mixt with a trooping bustle of shadows, +The silence suddenly shouting with surprise, +That tells of men astounded out of sleep +To find that God hath dreadfully been among them. + + We have mistaken Judith. + + Even as now +God is mistaken by your doubting hearts. + + She that has dealt with such a pride of spirit +In all her ways of life, so that she seemed +To feel like shadow, falling on the light +Her own mind made, the common thoughts of men; +Ay, she that to-day came down into our woe +And stood among the griefs that buzz upon us, +Like one who is forced aside from a bright journey +To stoop in a small-room'd cottage, where loud flies +Pester the inmates and the windows darken; +This she, this Judith, out of her quiet pride, +And out of her guarded purity, to walk +Where God himself from violent whoredom could +Scarcely preserve her shuddering flesh! and all +For our sake, for the lives she hath in scorn, +This horrible Assyrian risk she ventures. + + There should be prayer for that. Let us ask God +To bind the men, whose greed now glares upon her, +In some strange feebleness; surely he will; +Surely not with woman's worst injury +Her noble obedience he will reward! +Let us ask God to bind these men before her. + + They are not his to bind: else, were they here? +They are the glorying of Nebuchadnezzar's +Heart of fury against our God, sent here +Like insolent shouting into his holy quiet. +God could not bind these bragging noises up +In Nebuchadnezzar's heart; it is not his, +But made by Babylonian gods or owned +By thrones that hold the heavens over Nineveh. +For all these outland greatnesses, these kings +Whose war goes pealing through the world, these towns +Infidel and triumphant, reaching forth +Armies to hug the world close to their lust,-- +What are they but the gods making a scorn +Of our God on the earth? Then how can he +Alter these men from wicked delight? or how +Keep Judith all untoucht among their hands, +When his own quietness he could not keep +Unbroken by the god's Assyrian insult? + + But with a thunder he can shatter this +Intruding noise, and make his quiet again. + + And in their lust he can entangle them, +Deceiving them far into Judith's beauty, +Which is his power, and lop them from their gods. + + Their outrage will be ornament upon her! + + Out of the hands of the goblins she will come +Not markt with shame, but wearing their vile usage +Like one whom earthly reign covers with splendour. + + The ignominy they thought of shall be turned +To shining, yea, to announcing through the world +How God hath used her to beguile the heathen. +It begins! Now it begins! Lo, how dismay +Is fallen on the camp in a strange wind: +The ground, that seemed as spread with yellow embers, +Leaps into blazing, and like cinders whirled +And scattered up among the flames, are black +Bands of frantic men flickering about! + + Ozias! seest thou how our enemies +Are labouring in amazement? How they run +Flinging fuel to light them against fear? + + Now they begin to roar their terror: now +They wave and beckon wordless desperate things +One to another. + + Hear the iron and brass +Ringing above their voices, as they snatch +The arms that seem to fight among themselves, +Seized by their masters' anguish; dost thou hear +The clumsy terror in the camp, the men +Hasting to arm themselves against our God, +Ozias? + +_Ozias_. + Lions have taken a sentinel. + +_A Citizen_. +Judith hath taken Holofernes. + +_Judith's voice outside, under the gate_. + Yea, +And brought him back with her. Open the gates. + +_The Citizens_. +Open the gates. Bring torches. Wake, ye Jews! +Hail, Judith, marvellously chosen woman! +How bringst thou Holofernes? Show him to us. + +_Judith_. +Dare you indeed behold him? + +_A Citizen_. + Is he bound? + +_Judith_. +Drugged rather, with a medicine that God +Prepared for him and gave into my hands. +Open the gates! It is a harmless thing, +The Holofernes I have made your show; +You may gaze blithely upon him. I have tamed +The man's pernicious brain. Open the gates! +What, are your hands still nerveless? But my hands, +The hands of a woman, have done notable work. + +_The Gates open_. JUDITH _appears, standing against +the night and the Assyrian fires. Torches and +shouting in the town_. + +_Citizens_. +Judith! Judith alone! Where is thy boast +Of Holofernes captured? + +_Judith_. + I am alone, +Indeed; and you are many; yet with me +Comes Holofernes, certainly a captive. + +_Ozias_. +What trifle is this? + +_Judith_. + Trifle? It is the word. +A trifle, a thing of mere weight, I have brought you +From the Assyrian camp. My apron here +Is loaded now more heavily, but as meanly +As an old witch's skirt, when she comes home +From seeking camel's-dung for kindling; yet +My burden was, an hour ago, the world +Where you were ground to tortures; it was the brain +Inventing your destruction.--Look you now! + [_Holding up the head of_ HOLOFERNES. +This is the mouth through which commandment came +Of massacre and damnation to the Jews; +Here was the mind the gods that hate our God +Used to empower the agonies they devised +Against us; here your dangers were all made, +Your horrible starvation; and the thirst +Those wicked gods supposed would murder you, +Here a creature became, a ravenous creature; +Yea, here those mighty vigours lived which took, +Like ocean water taking frost, the hate +Those gods have for Jehovah, shaping it +Atrociously into the war that clencht +Their fury about you, frozen into iron. +Jews, here is the head of Holofernes: take it +And let it grin upon our highest wall +Over against the camp of the Assyrians. + [_She throws them the head_. +Ay, you may worry it; now is the jackals' time; +Snarl on your enemy, now he is dead. + +_Ozias_. +Judith, be not too scornful of their noise. +There are no words may turn this deed to song: +Praise cannot reach it. Only with such din, +Unmeasured yelling exultation, can +Astonishment speak of it. In me, just now, +Thought was the figure of a god, firm standing, +A dignity like carved Egyptian stone; +Thou like a blow of fire hast splinter'd it; +It is abroad like powder in a wind, +Or like heapt shingle in a furious tide, +Thou having roused the ungovernable waters +My mind is built amidst, a dangerous tower. +My spirit therein dwelling, so overwhelmed +In joy or fear, disturbance without name, +Out of the rivers it is fallen in +Can snatch no substance it may shape to words +Answerable to thy prowess and thy praise. +We are all abasht by thee, and only know +To worship thee with shouts and astounded passion. + +_Judith_. +Yes, now the world has got a voice against me: +At last now it may howl a triumph about me. + +_Ozias_. +This, nevertheless, my thought can seize from out +The wildness that goes pouring past it. God, +Wondrously having moved thee to this deed, +Hath shown the Jews a wondrous favouring love. +Thee it becomes not, standing though thou art +On this high action, to think scorn of men +Whom God thinks worthy of having thee for saviour. + +_Judith_. +This is a subtle flattery. What know I +Of whom God loves, of whom God hates? I know +This only: in my home, in my soul's chamber, +A filthy verminous beast hath made his lair. +I let him in; I let this grim lust in; +Not only did not bolt my doors against +His forcing, but even put them wide and watcht +Him coming in, to make my house his stable. +What though I killed him afterward? All my place, +And all the air I live in, is foul with him. +I killed him? Truly, I am mixt with him; +Death must have me before it hath all him. + +_Ozias_. +In thee, too, are the floods, the wild rivers, +Overrunning thy thought, the nameless mind? +How else, indeed? Nay, we are dull with joy: +Of thee we thought not, out of the hands of outrage +Coming back, although with victory coming. +But this makes surety once more of my thought, +And gives again my reason its lost station; +For it may come now in my privilege +(A thing that could cure madness in my brain) +That thou from me persuasion hast to endure +What well I know thy soul, thy upright soul, +Feels as abominable harness on it +Fastening thee unwillingly to crime,-- +The wickedness that hath delighted in thee. + +_Judith_. +Ay? Art thou there already? Tasting, art thou, +What the Assyrians may have forced on me, +Ere thou hast well swallowed thy new freedom? +Indeed, I know this is the wine of the feast +Which I have set for thee and thy Bethulia; +And 'tis the wine makes delicate the banquet. + +_Ozias_. +Wait: listen to me. 'Tis I now must be wise +And thou the hearkener. Not without wound +(So I make out, at least, thy hurrying words) +Comest thou back to us from conquering. +And such a wound, I easily believe, +As eats into thy soul and rages there; +Yea, I that know thee, Judith, know thy soul +Worse rankling hath in it from heathen insult +Than flesh could take from steel bathed in a venom +Art magic brewed over a charcoal fire, +Blown into flame by hissing of whipt lizards. +Yet is it likely, by too much regarding, +Thy hurt is pamper'd in its poisonous sting. +Wounds in the spirit need no surgery +But a mind strong not to insist on them. +See, then, thou hast not too much horror of this; +Who that fights well in battle comes home sound?-- +Much less couldst thou, who must, with seeming weakness, +Invite the power of Holofernes forth +Ere striking it, thy womanhood the ambush. +For thou didst plan, I guess, to duel him +In snares, weaving his greed about his limbs, +Drawn out and twisted winding round his strength +By ministry of thy enticing beauty; +That when he thought himself spending on thee +Malicious violence, and thou hadst made him +Languish, stupid with boasting and delight, +Thy hands might find him a tied quiet victim +Under their anger, maiming him of life. +Now, thy device accomplisht, wilt thou grudge +Its means? Wilt thou scruple to understand +Thy abus'd sex will show upon thy fame +A nobler colour of glory than a soldier's +Wounded bravery rusting his habergeon? +Nay, will not the world rejoice, thou being found +Among its women, ready such insolence +To bear as is unbearable to think on, +Thereby to serve and save God and his people? + +_Judith_. +The world rejoice over me? Yea, I am certain. + +_Ozias_. +Then art thou too fastidious. It is weak +To make thyself a shame of being injured; +And is it injury indeed? Nay, is it +Anything but a mere opinion hurt? +Not thou, but customary thought is here +Molested and annoyed; the only nerve +Can carry anguish from this to thy soul, +Is that credulity which ties the mind +Firmly to notional creature as to real. +Advise thee, then; dark in thyself keep hid +This grief; and thou wilt shortly find it dying. + +_A Citizen_. +Judith, +Pardon our ecstasy. 'Tis time thou hadst +Our honour. But first tell us all the event, +That in thy proper height thou with thy deed +May stand against our worship. + +_Judith_. + Why do you stop +Your shouts, and glare upon me? Have you need +Truly to hear my tale? I think, not so. +Ozias here, as he hath whiled at ease +Upon the walls my stay in the camp yonder, +Hath fairly fancied all that I have done, +And more exactly, and with a relishing gust, +All that was done to me. Ask him, therefore; +If he hath not already entertained +Your tedious leisure with my story told +Pat to your liking, enjoyed, and glosst with praise.-- +And yet, why ask him? Why go even so far +To hear it? Ask but the clever libidinousness +Dwelling in each of your hearts, and it will surely +Imagine for you how I trained to my arms +Lewd Holofernes, and kept him plied with lust, +Until his wild blood in the end paused fainting, +And he lay twitching, drained of all his wits;-- +But there was wine as well working in him, +Feebling his sinews; 'twas not all my doing, +The snoring fit that came before his death, +The routing beastly slumber that was my time. +You know it all! Why ask me for the tale? + +_Ozias_. +Comfort her: praise her. She is strangely ashamed +Of Holofernes having evilly used her. + +_A Citizen_. +We will contrive the triumph of our joy +Into some tune of words, and bring thee on, +Accompanied by singing, to thy house. + +_Judith_. +I pray you, rather let me go alone. +You will do better to be searching out +All sharpen'd steel that may take weapon-use. +The Assyrians are afraid: it is your time. + + [_They surround_ JUDITH _and go with her_. + +CHORUS _of Citizens praising_ JUDITH _and +leading her to her house_. +Over us and past us go the years; +Like wind that taketh sound from jubilee +And aloud flieth ringing, +Over us goeth the speed of the years, +Like loud noise eternally bringing +The greatness women have done. + + Deborah was great; with her singing +She hearten'd the men that the horses had dismayed; +Deborah, the wife of Lapidoth, alone +Stood singing where the men were horribly afraid, +Singing of God in the midst of fear; +When archers out of Hazor were +Eating the land like grasshoppers, +And darkness at noon was plundering the air +Of the light of the sun's insulted fires, +Red darkness covering Sisera's host +As Jewry was covered by the Canaanite's boast: +For the earth was broken into dust beneath +The force of his chariots' thundering tyres, +Nine hundred chariots of iron. + + Deborah was great in her prophesying; +But, though her anger moved through the Israelites, +And the loose tribes her indignant crying +Bound into song, fashion'd to an army; +And before the measure of her song went flying, +Like leaves and breakage of the woods +Fallen into pouring floods, +The iron and the men of Sisera and Jabin; +Not by her alone +God's punishment was done +On Canaan intending a monstrous crime, +On the foaming and poison of the serpent in Hazor; +Two women were the power of God that time. + + Yea, and sullenly down +Into its hiding town, +Even though the lightning were still in its heart, +The broken dragon, drawing in its fury, +Had croucht to mend its shatter'd malice, +Had lifted its head again and spat against God. +But God its endlessly devising brain, +Its braving spirit, its captain Sisera, +Into the hands of another woman brought: +In nets of her persuasion +She that wild spirit caught, +She fasten'd up that uncontrollable thought. +Sisera spake, and the crops were flames; +Sisera lookt, and blood ran down the door-sills. +But weary, trusting his entertainment, +He came to Jael, the Kenite woman; +A woman who gave him death for a bed, +And with base tools nailed down his murderous head +Fast to the earth his rage had fed +With men unreckonably slain. + + But than these wonderfully greater, +Judith, art thou; +The praise of both shall follow like a shadow +After thy glory now, +Who alone the measureless striding, +The high ungovern'd brow, +Of Assur upon the hills of the world +Hast tript and sent him hugely sliding, +Like a shot beast, down from his towering, +By his own lamed +Mightiness hurl'd +To lie a filth in disaster. +Deborah and Jael, famously named, +Like rich lands enriching the city their master, +Bring thee now their most golden honour. +For the beauty of thy limbs was found +By a dreadfuller enemy dreadful as the sound +Of Deborah's singing, though hers was a song +That had for its words thousands of men. +But thou thyself, looking upon them, +Didst weaken the Assyrians mortally. +They thought it terrible to see thee coming; +They falter'd in their impiousness, +Their hearts gave in to thee; they went +Backward before thee and shewed thee the tent +Where Holofernes would have thee in to him, +Yea, for his slayer waiting, +Waiting thee to entertain, +Desiring thee, his death, to enjoy, as Jael +Waited for Sisera her slain. + +_Judith_. +Have done! Do you think I know not why your souls +Are so delighted round me? Do you think +I see not what it is you praise?--not me, +But you yourselves triumphing in me and over me. + +_A Citizen_. +Did we kill Holofernes? + +_Judith_. + No: nor I. +That corpse was not his death. He is alive, +And will be till there is no more a world +Filled with his hidden hunger, waiting for souls +That ford the monstrous waters of the world. +Alive in you is Holofernes now, +But fed and rejoicing; I have filled your hunger. +Yea, and alive in me: my spirit hath been +Enjoyed by the lust of the world, and I am changed +Vilely by the vile thing that clutcht on me, +Like sulphurous smoke eating into silver. +Your song is all of this, this your rejoicing; +You have good right to circle me with song! +You are the world, and you have fed on me. + +_A Citizen_. +We are the world; yes, but the world for ever +Honouring thee. + +_Judith_. + How am I honoured so, +If I no honour have for the world, but rather +Hold it an odious and traitorous thing, +That means no honour but to those whose spirits +Have yielded to its ancient lechery?-- +Defiled, defiled! + +_A Citizen_. + Thou wert moved by our grief: +Was that a vile thing? + +_Judith_. + That was the cunning world. +It moved me by your grief to give myself +Into the pleasure of its ravenous love. + +_A Citizen_. +Judith, if thy hot spirit beareth still +Indignant suffering of villainy, +Think, that thou hast no wrong from it. Such things +Are in themselves dead, and have only life +From what lives round them. And around thee glory +Lives and will force its splendour on the harm +Thy purity endured, making it shine +Like diamond in sunlight, as before +Unviolated it could not. + +_Judith_. + Ay, to you +I doubt not I seem admirable now, +Worthy of being sung in loudest praise; +But to myself how seem I? + +_A Citizen_. + Surely as one +Whose charity went down the stairs of hell, +And barter'd with the fiends thy sacredest +For our deliverance. + +_Judith_. + And that you praise!-- +I was a virgin spirit. Whence I come +I know not, and I care not whither I go. +One fearful knowledge holds me: that I am +A spirit walking dangerously here. +For the world covets me. I am alone, +And made of something which the world has not, +Unless its substance can devour my spirit. +And it hath devoured me! In Holofernes +It seized me, fed on me; and then gibed on me, +With show of his death scoffing at my rage,-- +His death!--He lay there, drunken, glutted with me, +And his bare falchion hung beside the bed,-- +Look on it, and look on the blood I made +Go pouring thunder of pleasure through his brain!-- +And like a mad thing hitting at the madness +Thronging upon it in a grinning rout, +I my defilement smote, that Holofernes. +But does a maniac kill the frenzy in him, +When with his fists he beats the clambering fiends +That swarm against his limbs? No more did I +Kill my defilement; it was fast within me; +And like a frenzy can go out of me +And dress its hideous motions in my world. +For when I come back here, behold the thing +I murdered in the camp leaps up and yells! +The carrion Holofernes, my defilement, +Dances a triumph round me, roars and rejoices, +Quickened to hundreds of exulting lives. + +_A Citizen_. +God help thee in this wildness! Are we then +As Holofernes to thee? + +_Judith_. + You are naught +But the defilement that is in me now, +Rejoicing to be lodged safely within me. +You are the lust I entertained, rejoicing +To wreak itself upon my purity. +The stratagems of my ravishment you are, +Rejoicing that the will you serve has dealt +Its power on me. O, I hate you not. +You and your crying grief should have blown past +My heart like wind shaking a fasten'd casement. +But I must have you in. Myself I loathe +For opening to you, and thereby opening +To the demon which had set you on to whine +Pitiably in the porches of my spirit. +You are but noise; but he is the lust of the world, +The infinite wrong the spirit, the virgin spirit, +Must fasten against, or be for ever vile. + +_A Citizen_. +But is it naught that we, the folk of God, +Are safe by thee? + +_Judith_. + God hath his own devices. +But I would be God's helper! I would be +Known as the woman whom his strength had chosen +To ruin the Assyrians!--O my God, +How dreadfully thou punishest small sins! +If it is thou who punishest; but rather +It is that, when we slacken in perceiving +The world's intent towards us, and fatally, +Enticed out of suspicion by fair signs, +Go from ignoring its proposals, down +To parley,--thou our weakness dost permit. +In all my days I from the greed of the world +Virginal have kept my spirit's dwelling,-- +Till now; yea, all my being I have maintained +Sacredly my own possession; for love +But made more beautiful and more divine +My spirit's ownership. And yet no warning, +When I infatuate went down to be +Procuress of myself to the world's desire, +Did God blaze on my blindness, no rebuke. +Therefore I am no more my virgin own, +But hatefully, unspeakably, the world's. +To these now I belong; they took me and used me. +I have no pride to live for; and why else +Should one stay living, if not joyfully proud? +For I have yielded now; mercilessly +What is makes foolish nothing of what was. +To know the world, for all its grasping hands, +For all its heat to utter its pent nature +Into the souls that must go faring through it, +Availing nothing against purity, +Made always like rebellion trodden under,-- +By this was life a noble labour. Now +I have been persuaded into the world's pleasure: +And now at last I will all certainly +Contrive for myself the death of Holofernes. + + [OZIAS _comes behind her and catches the lifted falchion_. + +_Judith_. +It was well done, Ozias. + +_Ozias_. + I have watcht +Thy anguish growing, and I lookt for this. + +_Judith_. +Thou knowest me better than I know myself. +What moves in me is strange and uncontrolled, +That once I thought was ruled: thou knew'st me better.-- +Indeed thou must forgive me; what was I +To take so bitterly thy suit? What right +Had I to give thee anger, when thou wouldst +Brighten thy hopeless death with me enjoyed, +I, even from that anger, going to be +Holofernes' pleasure?--Thou knewest me better, +And therefore shalt forgive me. Ay, no doubt +My spirit answered thee so fiercely then +Because it felt thee reading me aright, +How a mere bragging was my purity. +But now to pardon askt, I must add thanks.-- +I had forgot Manasses! Even love +Was driven forth of me by these loud mouths! +Whether in death he waits for me, I know not; +But it had been an unforgivable thing +To have made this the end; not to have gone +To death as unto spousals, leaving life +As one sets down a work faithfully done, +And knows oneself by service justified, +Worthy of love, whether love be or not. +But, soiled with detestation, to have thrown +Fiercely aside the garment of this light; +Proved at the last impatient, death desiring +Like a mere doffing of foul drenchèd clothes; +Release from the wicked hindering mire of sorrow; +A comfortable darkness hiding me +Out of the glowing world myself have made +An insult, domineering me with splendour;-- +O such a death had turned, past all forgiving, +My insult to Manasses, and searcht him out, +Even where he is quiet, with the blaze, +Ranging like din, of this contempt, this triumph. +Not crying out such hateful news should I +Flee hunted into death, unto my love. +From this, Ozias, thou hast saved me. Now +I am to learn my shame, that not amazed, +But practised in my burden, I at last, +When my time comes, may all in gladness fare +The road made sacred by Manasses' feet. + + [JUDITH _goes into her house_. + +_Ozias (addressing the citizens)_. +You do well to be stricken silent here. +Terrible Holofernes slain by a woman +Was something wonderful, to be noised aloud; +But this is a wonder past applauding thought, +This grief darkening Judith, in the midst +Of the new shining glory she herself +Has brought to conquer in our skies the storm. +You do well to be dumb: for you have seen +Virginity. That spirit you have seen, +Seen made wrathfully plain that secret spirit, +Whereby is man's frail scabbard filled with steel. +This, cumbered in the earthen kind of man, +Which ceaseless waters would be wearing down, +Alone giveth him stubborn substance, holds him +Upright and hard against impious fate. +All things within it would the world possess, +And have them in the tide of its desire: +Man hath his nature of the vehement world; +He is a torrent like the stars and beasts +Flowing to answer the fierce world's desire. +But like a giant wading in the sea +Stands in the rapture, and refusing it, +And looking upward out of it to find +Who knows what sign?--spirit, virginity; +A power caught by the power of the world; +The spirit in whose unknown hope doth man +Deny the mastery of his fortune here; +Virginity, whose pride, impassion'd only +To be as she herself would be, nor thence +To loosen for the world's endeavouring, +And, though all give the rash obedience, stand +Her own possession,--this virginity, +This pride of the spirit, asking no reward +But to be pride unthrown, this is the force +Whereby man hath his courage in the strange +Fearful turmoil of being conscious man. +Yea, worshipping this spirit, he will at last +Grow into high divine imagination, +Wherein the envious wildness of the world +Yieldeth its striving up to him, and takes +His mind, building the endless stars like stone +To house his towering joy of self-possessing. +This made you dumb; ignorant knowledge of this, +Blind vision of virginity's mightiness, +Did chide the exclamation in your hearts. +And think not you have seen, in Judith's grief, +Virginity drown'd in the pouring world. +For what is done is naught; what is, is all: +And Judith is virginity's appointed. +Even by her injury she showeth us, +As fire by violence may be revealed, +How sovereign is virginity.-- +But let us now consult what way her grief, +Which is not to be understood by us, +May spend itself, with naught to urge its power. +Let us within our walls keep close this tale, +Close as the famine and the thirst were kept +Devouring us by the Assyrians. +Let there be no news going through the land +Out of Bethulia but this: that we +At Judith's hands had our deliverance, +But she from Holofernes and his crew +Unwilling and astonisht reverence, +As they were men with minds opprest by God. + + + + +THE ETERNAL WEDDING + + +_He_. +Even as a wind that hasteth round the world +From out cold hours fill'd with shadow of earth, +To pour alight against the risen sun; +So unto thee adoring, out of its shadow +Floweth my spirit, into the light of thee +Which Beauty is, and Joy. From my own fate, +From out the darkness wherein long I fared +Worshipping stars and morsels of the light, +Through doors of golden morning now I pass +Into the great whole light and perfect day +Of shining Beauty, open to me at last. +Yea, into thee now do I pass, beloved: +Beauty and thou are mine! + +_She_. + And I am thine! +I am desirable to my desire: +Thence am I clean as immortality +With Beauty and Joy, the fiery power of Beauty. + +_He_. +And by my spirit made marvellous here by thee, +Poured out all clear into the gold of thee, +Not myself only do I know; I have +Golden within me the whole fate of man: +That every flesh and soul belongs to one +Continual joyward ravishment, whose end +Is here, in this perfection. Now I know-- +For all my speculation soareth up, +A bird taking eternity for air,-- +Now being mixt with thee, in the burning midst +Of Beauty for my sense and mind and soul,-- +That life hath highest gone which hath most joy. +For like great wings forcefully smiting air +And driving it along in rushing rivers, +Desire of joy beats mightily pulsing forward +The world's one nature, and all the loose lives therein, +Carried and greatly streaming on a gale +Of craving, swept fiercely along in beauty;-- +Like a great weather of wind and shining sun, +When the airs pick up whole huge waves of sea, +Crumble them in their grasp and high aloft +Sow them glittering, a white watery dust, +To company with light: so we are driven +Onward and upward in a wind of beauty, +Until man's race be wielded by its joy +Into some high incomparable day, +Where perfectly delight may know itself,-- +No longer need a strife to know itself, +Only by its prevailing over pain. + +_She_. +Beloved, but no pain may strive with us. + +_He_. +No, for we are flown far ahead of life: +The feet of our Spirit have wonderfully trod +The dangers of the rushing fate of life, +As summer-searching birds tread with their wings +Mountainous surges in the air. But many, +Not strongly fledge to ride the world's great rapture, +Must break, down fallen into steep confusion, +Where we climb easily and tower with joy. +Nevertheless doth life foretell in us +How it shall all make seizure at the last +Upon this height of ecstasy, this fort +Life like an army storms: Captains we are +In the great assault; and where we stand alone +Within these hours, built like establisht flames +Round us, at long last all man's life shall stand +At peace with joy, wearing delighted sense +As meadows wear their golden pleasure of flowers. +Certain my heart dwells in these builded hours, +That there is no more beauty beyond thee. +Thou art my utter beauty; and--behold +The marvel, God in Heaven!--I am thine. +Therefore we know, in this height-guarded place +Whereto the speed of our desire hath brought us; +Here in this safety crowning, like a fort +Built upon topmost peaks, the height of beauty,-- +We know to be glad of life as we were gods +Timelessly glad of deity; yea, to enjoy +Fleshly, spiritual Being till the swift +Torrent of glee (as hurled star-dust can change +Dim earthly weather to a moment like the sun,) +Doth startle life to self-adoring godhead,-- +Divine body of Power and divine +Burning soul of Light and self-desire. +And having given ourselves all to amazement, +We are made like a prophesying song +Of life all joy, a bride in the arms of God.-- +Yea, God shall marry his people at the last; +And every man and woman who has sworn +That only joy can make this Being sacred, +Weaves at the wedding-garment. + +_She_. + Ah, my beloved, +Feelest thou too that out of earth and time +We are transgressing into Heavenly hours? +Or, threading the dark worldly multitude +And making lightning of its path, there comes +A zeal from God posting along our lives. + +_He_. +For some eternal pulse hath chosen us, +Some divine anger beats within our hearts. + +_She_. +Anger? But how far off is love from anger! + +_He_. +Nay, both belong to joy; joy's kind is twain. +And close as in the pouring of sun-flame +Are mingled glory of light and fury of heat, +Joy utters its twin radiance, love and anger; +If joy be not indeed all sacred wrath +With circumstance; indignant memory +Of what hath been, when the new lusts of God +Exulted unimaginably, before +Rigours of law fastened like creeping habit +Upon their measureless wont, and forced them drive +Their ranging music of delighted being +Through the fixt beating tune of a circling world.-- +Is not love so? Amazement of an anger +Against created shape and narrowness? +The bound rage of the uncreated Spirit +Whose striving doth impassion us and the world? +A wrath that thou and I are not one being? + +_She_. +Yes, and not only words that thou and I +Out of our sexes with a flame's escape +Are fashioned into one. The Spirit in us +Hath, like imagination in a prison, +Kindled itself free of all boundary, +So that it hath no room but its own joy, +Ample as at the first, before it fell +Into this burthenous habit of a world. +What have we now to do with the world? We are +Made one unworldly thing; we are past the world; +Yea, and unmade: we are immortality. + +_He_. +And only fools abominably crazed, +Those who will set imagination down +As less in truth than their dim sensual wit, +Dare doubt that, while these dreams of ours, these bodies, +Still quiver in the world each with its own +Delight, the great divine wrath of our love +Hath stricken off from us the place of the world! +Yea, as we walk in spiritual freedom +Upright before the shining face of God, +Behold, as it were the shadow of our stature +Thrown by that light, we draw the world behind us,-- +That world wherein, darkly I remember, +We thought we were as twain. + +_She_. + Yet, since God means +That love should sunder our fixt separateness +And make our married spirits leap together, +As lightning out of the clouds of sexual flesh, +Into one sexless undivided joy; +Why hath he made us a divided flesh? +We being single ecstasy, now as strange +As if a shadow stained where no one stood +The ground in the noon-glare, seemeth to me +The long blind time wherein our lives and the world +Lay stretcht out dark upon the light of heaven, +Like shadow of some bulk that took the glory; +While yet there stood not over it, to shade +The splendour from it, our heaven-fronting love, +This great new soul that our two souls have kindled. +Yea, and how like, that in the world's chance-medley +This our exulting destiny had been slain, +Though here it lords the world as a man his shadow! + +_He_. +But the world is not chance, except to those +Most feeble in desire: who needeth aught +Shall have it, if he fill his soul with the need. +While still our ignorant lives were drowned beneath +The flooding of the earthly fate, and chance +Seemed pouring mightily dark and loud between us, +Unspeakable news oft visited our hearts: +We knew each other by desire; yea, spake +Out of the strength of darkness flowing o'er us, +Across the hindering outcry of the world +One to another sweet desirable things. +Until at last we took such heavenly lust +Of those unheard messages into our lives, +We were made abler than the worldly fate. +We held its random enmity as frost +The storming Northern seas, and fastened it +In likeness of our love's imagining; +Or as a captain with his courage holds +The mutinous blood of an army aghast with fear, +And maketh it unwillingly dare his purpose, +Our lust of love struck its commandment deep +Into the froward turbulence of world +That parted us. Suddenly the dark noise +Cleft and went backward from us, and we stood +Knowing each other in a quiet light; +And like wise music made of many strings +Following and adoring underneath +Prevailing song, fate lived beneath our love, +Under the masterful excellent silence of it, +A multitudinous obedience. + +_She_. +Yea, but not this my marvel: not that we +Should master with desire the sundering world, +We who bore in our hearts such destiny, +There was no force knew to be dangerous +Against it, but must turn its malice clean +Into obsequious favour worshipping us. +Rather hath this astonisht me, that we +Have not for ever lived in this high hour. +Only to be twin elements of joy +In this extravagance of Being, Love, +Were our divided natures shaped in twain; +And to this hour the whole world must consent. +Is it not very marvellous, our lives +Can only come to this out of a long +Strange sundering, with the years of the world between us? + +_He_. +Shall life do more than God? for hath not God +Striven with himself, when into known delight +His unaccomplisht joy he would put forth,-- +This mystery of a world sign of his striving? +Else wherefore this, a thing to break the mind +With labouring in the wonder of it, that here +Being--the world and we--is suffered to be!-- +But, lying on thy breast one notable day, +Sudden exceeding agony of love +Made my mind a trance of infinite knowledge. +I was not: yet I saw the will of God +As light unfashion'd, unendurable flame, +Interminable, not to be supposed; +And there was no more creature except light,-- +The dreadful burning of the lonely God's +Unutter'd joy. And then, past telling, came +Shuddering and division in the light: +Therein, like trembling, was desire to know +Its own perfect beauty; and it became +A cloven fire, a double flaming, each +Adorable to each; against itself +Waging a burning love, which was the world;-- +A moment satisfied in that love-strife +I knew the world!--And when I fell from there, +Then knew I also what this life would do +In being twain,--in being man and woman! +For it would do even as its endless Master, +Making the world, had done; yea, with itself +Would strive, and for the strife would into sex +Be cloven, double burning, made thereby +Desirable to itself. Contrivèd joy +Is sex in life; and by no other thing +Than by a perfect sundering, could life +Change the dark stream of unappointed joy +To perfect praise of itself, the glee that loves +And worships its own Being. This is ours! +Yet only for that we have been so long +Sundered desire: thence is our life all praise.-- +But we, well knowing by our strength of joy +There is no sundering more, how far we love +From those sad lives that know a half-love only, +Alone thereby knowing themselves for ever +Sealed in division of love, and therefore made +To pour their strength out always into their love's +Fierceness, as green wood bleeds its hissing sap +Into red heat of a fire! Not so do we: +The cloven anger, life, hath left to wage +Its flame against itself, here turned to one +Self-adoration.--Ah, what comes of this? +The joy falters a moment, with closed wings +Wearying in its upward journey, ere +Again it goes on high, bearing its song, +Its delight breathing and its vigour beating +The highest height of the air above the world. + +_She_. +What hast thou done to me!--I would have soul, +Before I knew thee, Love, a captive held +By flesh. Now, inly delighted with desire, +My body knows itself to be nought else +But thy heart's worship of me; and my soul +Therein is sunlight held by warm gold air. +Nay, all my body is become a song +Upon the breath of spirit, a love-song. + +_He_. +And mine is all like one rapt faculty, +As it were listening to the love in thee, +My whole mortality trembling to take +Thy body like heard singing of thy spirit. + +_She_. +Surely by this, Beloved, we must know +Our love is perfect here,--that not as holds +The common dullard thought, we are things lost +In an amazement that is all unware; +But wonderfully knowing what we are! +Lo, now that body is the song whereof +Spirit is mood, knoweth not our delight? +Knoweth not beautifully now our love, +That Life, here to this festival bid come +Clad in his splendour of worldly day and night, +Filled and empower'd by heavenly lust, is all +The glad imagination of the Spirit? + +_He_. +Were it not so, Love could not be at all: +Nought could be, but a yearning to fulfil +Desire of beauty, by vain reaching forth +Of sense to hold and understand the vision +Made by impassion'd body,--vision of thee! +But music mixt with music are, in love, +Bodily senses; and as flame hath light, +Spirit this nature hath imagined round it, +No way concealed therein, when love comes near, +Nor in the perfect wedding of desires +Suffering any hindrance. + +_She_. + Ah, but now, +Now am I given love's eternal secret! +Yea, thou and I who speak, are but the joy +Of our for ever mated spirits; but now +The wisdom of my gladness even through Spirit +Looks, divinely elate. Who hath for joy +Our Spirits? Who hath imagined them +Round him in fashion'd radiance of desire, +As into light of these exulting bodies +Flaming Spirit is uttered? + +_He_. + Yea, here the end +Of love's astonishment! Now know we Spirit, +And Who, for ease of joy, contriveth Spirit. +Now all life's loveliness and power we have +Dissolved in this one moment, and our burning +Carries all shining upward, till in us +Life is not life, but the desire of God, +Himself desiring and himself accepting. +Now what was prophecy in us is made +Fulfilment: we are the hour and we are the joy, +We in our marvellousness of single knowledge, +Of Spirit breaking down the room of fate +And drawing into his light the greeting fire +Of God,--God known in ecstasy of love +Wedding himself to utterance of himself. + + + + +MARRIAGE SONG + + +I + +Come up, dear chosen morning, come, +Blessing the air with light, +And bid the sky repent of being dark: +Let all the spaces round the world be white, +And give the earth her green again. +Into new hours of beautiful delight, +Out of the shadow where she has lain, +Bring the earth awake for glee, +Shining with dews as fresh and clear +As my beloved's voice upon the air. +For now, O morning chosen of all days, on thee +A wondrous duty lies: +There was an evening that did loveliness foretell; +Thence upon thee, O chosen morn, it fell +To fashion into perfect destiny +The radiant prophecy. +For in an evening of young moon, that went +Filling the moist air with a rosy fire, +I and my beloved knew our love; +And knew that thou, O morning, wouldst arise +To give us knowledge of achieved desire. +For, standing stricken with astonishment, +Half terrified in the delight, +Even as the moon did into clear air move +And made a golden light, +Lo there, croucht up against it, a dark hill, +A monstrous back of earth, a spine +Of hunchèd rock, furred with great growth of pine, +Lay like a beast, snout in its paws, asleep; +Yet in its sleeping seemed it miserable, +As though strong fear must always keep +Hold of its heart, and drive its blood in dream. +Yea, for to our new love, did it not seem, +That dark and quiet length of hill, +The sleeping grief of the world?--Out of it we +Had like imaginations stept to be +Beauty and golden wonder; and for the lovely fear +Of coming perfect joy, had changed +The terror that dreamt there! +And now the golden moon had turned +To shining white, white as our souls that burned +With vision of our prophecy assured: +Suddenly white was the moon; but she +At once did on a woven modesty +Of cloud, and soon went in obscured: +And we were dark, and vanisht that strange hill. +But yet it was not long before +There opened in the sky a narrow door, +Made with pearl lintel and pearl sill; +And the earth's night seem'd pressing there,-- +All as a beggar on some festival would peer,-- +To gaze into a room of light beyond, +The hidden silver splendour of the moon. +Yea, and we also, we +Long gazed wistfully +Towards thee, O morning, come at last, +And towards the light that thou wilt pour upon us soon! + + +II + +O soul who still art strange to sense, +Who often against beauty wouldst complain, +Doubting between joy and pain: +If like the startling touch of something keen +Against thee, it hath been +To follow from an upland height +The swift sun hunting rain +Across the April meadows of a plain, +Until the fields would flash into the air +Their joyous green, like emeralds alight; +Or when in the blue of night's mid-noon +The burning naked moon +Draws to a brink of cloudy weather near, +A breadth of snow, firm and soft as a wing, +Stretcht out over a wind that gently goes,-- +Through the white sleep of snowy cloud there grows +An azure-border'd shining ring, +The gleaming dream of the approaching joy of her;-- +What now wilt thou do, Soul? What now, +If with such things as these troubled thou wert? +How wilt thou now endure, or how +Not now be strangely hurt?-- +When utter beauty must come closer to thee +Than even anger or fear could be; +When thou, like metal in a kiln, must lie +Seized by beauty's mightily able flame; +Enjoyed by beauty as by the ruthless glee +Of an unescapable power; +Obeying beauty as air obeys a cry; +Yea, one thing made of beauty and thee, +As steel and a white heat are made the same! +--Ah, but I know how this infirmity +Will fail and be not, no, not memory, +When I begin the marvellous hour. +This only is my heart's strain'd eagerness, +Long waiting for its bliss.-- +But from those other fears, from those +That keep to Love so close, +From fears that are the shadow of delight, +Hide me, O joys; make them unknown to-night! + + +III + +Thou bright God that in dream earnest to me last night, +Thou with the flesh made of a golden light, +Knew I not thee, thee and thy heart, +Knew I not well, God, who thou wert? +Yea, and my soul divinely understood +The light that was beneath thee a ground, +The golden light that cover'd thee round, +Turning my sleep to a fiery morn, +Was as a heavenly oath there sworn +Promising me an immortal good: +Well I knew thee, God of Marriages, thee and thy flame! +Ah, but wherefore beside thee came +That fearful sight of another mood? +Why in thy light, to thy hand chained, +Towards me its bondage terribly strained, +Why came with thee that dreadful hound, +The wild hound Fear, black, ravenous and gaunt? +Why him with thee should thy dear light surround? +Why broughtest thou that beast to haunt +The blissful footsteps of my golden dream?-- +All shadowy black the body dread, +All frenzied fire the head,-- +The hunger of its mouth a hollow crimson flame, +The hatred in its eyes a blaze +Fierce and green, stabbing the ruddy glaze, +And sharp white jetting fire the teeth snarl'd at me, +And white the dribbling rage of froth,-- +A throat that gaped to bay and paws working violently, +Yet soundless all as a winging moth; +Tugging towards me, famishing for my heart;-- +Even while thou, O golden god, wert still +Looking the beautiful kindness of thy will +Into my soul, even then must I be, +With thy bright promise looking at me, +Then bitterly of that hound afraid?-- +Darkness, I know, attendeth bright, +And light comes not but shadow comes: +And heart must know, if it know thy light, +Thy wild hound Fear, the shadow of love's delight. +Yea, is it thus? Are we so made +Of death and darkness, that even thou, +O golden God of the joys of love, +Thy mind to us canst only prove, +The glorious devices of thy mind, +By so revealing how thy journeying here +Through this mortality, doth closely bind +Thy brightness to the shadow of dreadful Fear?-- +Ah no, it shall not be! Thy joyous light +Shall hide me from the hunger of fear to-night. + + +IV + +For wonderfully to live I now begin: +So that the darkness which accompanies +Our being here, is fasten'd up within +The power of light that holdeth me; +And from these shining chains, to see +My joy with bold misliking eyes, +The shrouded figure will not dare arise. +For henceforth, from to-night, +I am wholly gone into the bright +Safety of the beauty of love: +Not only all my waking vigours plied +Under the searching glory of love, +But knowing myself with love all satisfied +Even when my life is hidden in sleep; +As high clouds, to themselves that keep +The moon's white company, are all possest +Silverly with the presence of their guest; +Or as a darken'd room +That hath within it roses, whence the air +And quietness are taken everywhere +Deliciously by sweet perfume. + + + + +EPILOGUE + + + + +EPILOGUE + + +What shall we do for Love these days? +How shall we make an altar-blaze +To smite the horny eyes of men +With the renown of our Heaven, +And to the unbelievers prove +Our service to our dear god, Love? +What torches shall we lift above +The crowd that pushes through the mire, +To amaze the dark heads with strange fire? +I should think I were much to blame, +If never I held some fragrant flame +Above the noises of the world, +And openly 'mid men's hurrying stares, +Worshipt before the sacred fears +That are like flashing curtains furl'd +Across the presence of our lord Love. +Nay, would that I could fill the gaze +Of the whole earth with some great praise +Made in a marvel for men's eyes, +Some tower of glittering masonries, +Therein such a spirit flourishing +Men should see what my heart can sing: +All that Love hath done to me +Built into stone, a visible glee; +Marble carried to gleaming height +As moved aloft by inward delight; +Not as with toil of chisels hewn, +But seeming poised in a mighty tune. +For of all those who have been known +To lodge with our kind host, the sun, +I envy one for just one thing: +In Cordova of the Moors +There dwelt a passion-minded King, +Who set great bands of marble-hewers +To fashion his heart's thanksgiving +In a tall palace, shapen so +All the wondering world might know +The joy he had of his Moorish lass. +His love, that brighter and larger was +Than the starry places, into firm stone +He sent, as if the stone were glass +Fired and into beauty blown. + Solemn and invented gravely +In its bulk the fabric stood, +Even as Love, that trusteth bravely +In its own exceeding good +To be better than the waste +Of time's devices; grandly spaced, +Seriously the fabric stood. +But over it all a pleasure went +Of carven delicate ornament, +Wreathing up like ravishment, +Mentioning in sculptures twined +The blitheness Love hath in his mind; +And like delighted senses were +The windows, and the columns there +Made the following sight to ache +As the heart that did them make. +Well I can see that shining song +Flowering there, the upward throng +Of porches, pillars and windowed walls, +Spires like piercing panpipe calls, +Up to the roof's snow-cloud flight; +All glancing in the Spanish light +White as water of arctic tides, +Save an amber dazzle on sunny sides. +You had said, the radiant sheen +Of that palace might have been +A young god's fantasy, ere he came +His serious worlds and suns to frame; +Such an immortal passion +Quiver'd among the slim hewn stone. +And in the nights it seemed a jar +Cut in the substance of a star, +Wherein a wine, that will be poured +Some time for feasting Heaven, was stored. + But within this fretted shell, +The wonder of Love made visible, +The King a private gentle mood +There placed, of pleasant quietude. +For right amidst there was a court, +Where always muskèd silences +Listened to water and to trees; +And herbage of all fragrant sort,-- +Lavender, lad's-love, rosemary, +Basil, tansy, centaury,-- +Was the grass of that orchard, hid +Love's amazements all amid. +Jarring the air with rumour cool, +Small fountains played into a pool +With sound as soft as the barley's hiss +When its beard just sprouting is; +Whence a young stream, that trod on moss, +Prettily rimpled the court across. +And in the pool's clear idleness, +Moving like dreams through happiness, +Shoals of small bright fishes were; +In and out weed-thickets bent +Perch and carp, and sauntering went +With mounching jaws and eyes a-stare; +Or on a lotus leaf would crawl, +A brinded loach to bask and sprawl, +Tasting the warm sun ere it dipt +Into the water; but quick as fear +Back his shining brown head slipt +To crouch on the gravel of his lair, +Where the cooled sunbeams broke in wrack, +Spilt shatter'd gold about his back. + So within that green-veiled air, +Within that white-walled quiet, where +Innocent water thought aloud,-- +Childish prattle that must make +The wise sunlight with laughter shake +On the leafage overbowed,-- +Often the King and his love-lass +Let the delicious hours pass. +All the outer world could see +Graved and sawn amazingly +Their love's delighted riotise, +Fixt in marble for all men's eyes; +But only these twain could abide +In the cool peace that withinside +Thrilling desire and passion dwelt; +They only knew the still meaning spelt +By Love's flaming script, which is +God's word written in ecstasies. + +And where is now that palace gone, +All the magical skill'd stone, +All the dreaming towers wrought +By Love as if no more than thought +The unresisting marble was? +How could such a wonder pass? +Ah, it was but built in vain +Against the stupid horns of Rome, +That pusht down into the common loam +The loveliness that shone in Spain. +But we have raised it up again! +A loftier palace, fairer far, +Is ours, and one that fears no war. +Safe in marvellous walls we are; +Wondering sense like builded fires, +High amazement of desires, +Delight and certainty of love, +Closing around, roofing above +Our unapproacht and perfect hour +Within the splendours of love's power. + + + + +_The "Hymn to Love" +is reprinted by permission from "The Vineyard."_ + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Emblems Of Love, by Lascelles Abercrombie + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EMBLEMS OF LOVE *** + +***** This file should be named 15472-8.txt or 15472-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/4/7/15472/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Keren Vergon, S.R. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Emblems Of Love + +Author: Lascelles Abercrombie + +Release Date: March 26, 2005 [EBook #15472] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EMBLEMS OF LOVE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Keren Vergon, S.R. Ellison +and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +EMBLEMS OF LOVE + + + +BY THE SAME AUTHOR + +INTERLUDES AND POEMS + + +EMBLEMS OF LOVE + +DESIGNED IN SEVERAL DISCOURSES +BY LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE + +_"Wonder it is to see in diverse mindes +How diversly love doth his pageaunts play" + + +"Ego tamquam centrum, circuli, cui simili modo +se habent circumferentiae partes"_ + + + + +TO MY WIFE + + + + +TABLE + + page +HYMN TO LOVE 3 + +PART I DISCOVERY AND PROPHECY + PRELUDE 7 + VASHTI 16 + +PART II IMPERFECTION + THREE GIRLS IN LOVE: + MARY: A LEGEND OF THE '45 77 + JEAN 94 + KATRINA 109 + +PART III VIRGINITY AND PERFECTION + JUDITH 127 + THE ETERNAL WEDDING 188 + + MARRIAGE SONG 200 + EPILOGUE: DEDICATION 209 + + + + +EMBLEMS OF LOVE + + + + +HYMN TO LOVE + +We are thine, O Love, being in thee and made of thee, + As thou, Love, were the deep thought +And we the speech of the thought; yea, spoken are we, + Thy fires of thought out-spoken: + +But burn'd not through us thy imagining + Like fierce mood in a song caught, +We were as clamour'd words a fool may fling, + Loose words, of meaning broken. + +For what more like the brainless speech of a fool,-- + The lives travelling dark fears, +And as a boy throws pebbles in a pool + Thrown down abysmal places? + +Hazardous are the stars, yet is our birth + And our journeying time theirs; +As words of air, life makes of starry earth + Sweet soul-delighted faces; + +As voices are we in the worldly wind; + The great wind of the world's fate +Is turned, as air to a shapen sound, to mind + And marvellous desires. + +But not in the world as voices storm-shatter'd, + Not borne down by the wind's weight; +The rushing time rings with our splendid word + Like darkness filled with fires. + +For Love doth use us for a sound of song, + And Love's meaning our life wields, +Making our souls like syllables to throng + His tunes of exultation. + +Down the blind speed of a fatal world we fly, + As rain blown along earth's fields; +Yet are we god-desiring liturgy, + Sung joys of adoration; + +Yea, made of chance and all a labouring strife, + We go charged with a strong flame; +For as a language Love hath seized on life + His burning heart to story. + +Yea, Love, we are thine, the liturgy of thee. + Thy thought's golden and glad name, +The mortal conscience of immortal glee, + Love's zeal in Love's own glory. + + + + +PART I + +DISCOVERY AND PROPHECY + + + + +PRELUDE + + +_Night on bleak downs; a high grass-grown trench runs +athwart the slope. The earthwork is manned by +warriors clad in hides. Two warriors, BRYS and +GAST, talking_. + +_Gast_. +This puts a tall heart in me, and a tune +Of great glad blood flowing brave in my flesh, +To see thee, after all these moons, returned, +My Brys. If there's no rust in thy shoulder-joints, +That battle-wrath of thine, and thy good throwing, +Will be more help for us than if the dyke +Were higher by a span.--Ha! there was howling +Down in the thicket; they come soon, for sure. + +_Brys_. +Has there been hunger in the forest long? + +_Gast_. +I think, not only hunger makes them fierce: +They broke not long since into a village yonder, +A huge throng of them; all through the night we heard +The feasting they kept up. And that has made +The wolves blood-thirsty, I believe. + +_Brys_. + O fools +To keep so slack a waking on their dykes! +Now have they made a sleepless winter for us. +Every night we must look, lest the down-slope +Between us and the woods turn suddenly +To a grey onrush full of small green candles, +The charging pack with eyes flaming for flesh. +And well for us then if there's no more mist +Than the white panting of the wolfish hunger. + +_Gast_. +They'll come to-night. Three of us hunting went +Among the trees below: not long we stayed. +All the wolves of the world are in the forest, +And man's the meat they're after. + +_Brys_. + Ay, it must be +Blood-thirst is in them, if they come to-night, +Such clear and starry weather.--What dost thou make, +Gast, of the stars? + +_Gast_. + Brother, they're horrible. +I always keep my head as much as I may +Bent so they cannot look me in the eyes. + +_Brys_. +I never had this awe. The fear I have +Is not a load I crouch beneath, but something +Proud and wonderful, that lifteth my heart. +Yea, I look on a night of stars with fear +That comes close against glee. 'Tis like the fear +I have for the wolves, that maketh me joy-mad +To drive the yellow flint-edge through their shags. +So when I gaze on stars, they speak high fear +Into my soul; and strangely I think they mean +The fear must prompt me to some unknown war. + +_Gast_. +Be thou well ware of this. I have not told thee +How the stars, with their perilous overlooking, +Have raught away from all his manhood Gwat, +Our fiercest strength. For when the conquering wolves +Into that village won, we in our huts +Lay hearkening to their rejoicing hunger; +But Gwat stayed out in the stars all night long. +I peered at him as much as that whipt dog, +My heart, had daring for; and he stood stiff, +With all his senses aiming at the noise. +Some strong bad eagerness kept tightly rigged +The cordage of his body, till his nerves +Loosed on a sudden. He yelled, "What do we here, +High up among bleak winds, always afraid +Of murder from the wolves? I will be man +No more; the grey four-footed fellows have +The good meats of the world, and the best lodging, +Forest and weald." And then he wolfish howled, +And hurled off towards the snarling and the baying. +And now his soul wears the strength and fury +Of a huge dun-pelted wolf; he's the wolves' king; +And the fiends have learnt from him to laugh at our flints. +Now always in the assaults there's one great beast, +With yellow eyes and hackles like a mane, +That plays the captain, first to reach the dyke; +And I have heard that when he stands upright +To ramp against the bulwarks, in his throat +Are chattering yelps half tongued to grisly words. +Doubtless to-night thou'lt see him, leading his pack, +And with his jaws savagely tampering +With our earth-builded safety.--But now, Brys, +Is it not certain that the stars have done +This evil to Gwat's heart, and curdled all +The manhood in him? + +_Brys_. + When I was wanderer, +I came upon a lake, set in a land +Which has no fear of wolves. A fisher folk +Live there in houses stilted over the water, +And the stars walk like spectres of white fire +Upon the misty waters of the mere. +Ay, if they have no wolves, they have the fear +All as thou hast; the sedges in the night +Shudder, and out of the reeds there comes a cry +Half chuckling, half bewailing; but, as I think, +It is the mallard calling. Now among +This haunted folk, I markt a man who went +With shining eyes, and a joy in his face, about +His needs of living. Clear it was to me +He knew of some sweet race in his daily wont +Which blest him wonderly. I lived with him, +And from him learnt marvels. Yea, for he gave me +A wit to see in our earth more than fear. +Brother, how shall I tell thee, who hast still +Fear-poisoned nerves, that like a priest he brewed +My heart keen drink from out the look of earth?-- +Gast, is it nothing to thee that all in green +The wolds go heaping up against the blue? +And is it only fear to thee that night +Is thatched with stars?--Ah, but I took his wit +Further than he e'er did; in women I found +The same amazement for my wakened eyes +As in the hills and waters. Ay, gape at me, +And think me bitten by some evil tooth; +But as a quiet stream at the cliff's edge +Breaks its smooth habit into a loud white force, +So this delight the earth pours over me +Leaps out of women with such excellence, +It seems as I must brace my sinews to it,-- +The comely fashion of their limbs, their eyes, +Their gait, and the way they use their arms. And now +My eyes have a message to my heart from them +Such as thou only through a blind skin hast. +Therefore I came back here;--I scarce know why, +But now that women are to me not only +The sacred friends of hidden Awe, not only +Mistresses of the world's unseen foison, +Ay, and not only ease for throbbing groins, +But things mine eyes enjoy as mine ears take songs, +Vision that beats a timbrel in my blood, +Dreams for my sleeping sight, that move aired round +With wonder, as trembling covers a hearth,-- +It seems I must be fighting for them, must +Run through some danger to them now before +Delighting in them. I am here to fight +Wolves for the joy of the world, marvellous women! + +_Gast_. +Star-madden'd! What is this in earth and women +That pricks thee into wrath against the wolves? +Do I not fight for women too? But I +For what is certain in them, not for madness. + +_Brys_. +I make my fierceness of a mind to set +My spirit high up in the winds of joy, +Before I tumble down into the darkness. +Not thus thy women send thee to thy fighting: +All fear thy battle-courage is, fear-bred +Thine anger. Thou heavily drudgest women, +But yet thou art afraid of them. + +_Gast_. + Ay, truly; +For look how from their wondrous bodies comes +Increase: who knoweth where such power ends? +They are in league with the great Motherhood +Who brings the seasons forth in the open world; +And if to them She hands, unseen by us, +Their marvellous bringing forth of children, what +Spirit of Her great dreadful mountain-spell, +Wherein the rocks have purpose against us, +Sealed up in watchful quiet stone, may not +Pass on to their dark minds, that seem so mild, +Yet are so strange; or what charm'd word from out +Her forests whispering endless dangerous things, +Wherefrom our hunters often have run crazed +To hear the trees devising for their souls; +What secret share of Her earth's monstrous power +May She not also grant to women's lives? +Yea, wise is our fear of women; but we fight +For more than fear; we give them liking too. +Who but the women can deliver us +From this continual siege of the wolves' hunger? +High above comfort, on the shrugging backs +Of downland, where the winds parch our skins, and frost +Kneads through our flesh until his fingers clamp +The aching bones, our scanty families +Hold out against the ravin of the wolves, +Fended by earthwork, fighting them with flint. +But if we keep the favour of our women, +They will breed sons to us so many and strong +We shall have numbers that will make us dare +Invade the weather-shelter'd woods, and build +Villages where now only wolves are denn'd; +Yea, to the beasts shall the man-folk become +Malice that haunts their ways, even as now +Our leaguer'd tribes must lurk and crouch afraid +Of wolfish malice always baying near. +And fires, stackt hugely high with timber, shall +With nightlong blaze make friendly the dark and cold, +Cheer our bodies, and roast great feasts of flesh,-- +Ah, to burn trunks of trees, not bracken and ling! +This is what women are to me,--a fear +Lest the earth-hidden Awe, who unseen gives +The childing to their flesh, should make their minds +As darkly able as their wombs, with power +To think sorceries over us; and hope +That with their breeding they will dispossess +The beasts of the good lowlands, until man, +No longer fled to the hills, inhabit all +The comfort of the earth. + +_Brys_. + These are mine too, +But as great rivers own the brook's young speed. +For in my soul, the women do not dwell +A torch going through darkness, with a troop +Of shadows gesturing after; but as the sun +Upon his height of golden blaze at noon, +With all the size of the blue air about him. +Fear that in women the unseen is seen +And the unknown power sits beside us known,-- +This fear is good, but better is than this +Their beauty, and the wells of joy in women. +I speak dumb words to thee; but know thou, Gast, +My soul is looking at the time to come, +And seeing it not as a cavern lit +With smoky burning brandons of thy fear, +But as a day shining with my new joy. +Thou canst not fight with me for the coming heart +Of man,--fear cannot fight with joy. And I +Am setting such a war of joy against thee, +It shall be as man's heart became a god +Murdering thy mind of weakling darkness. +All the hot happiness of being wroth +And seeing a stroke leave behind it wound, +The pleasures of wily hunting, and a feast +After long famine, and the dancing stored +Within the must of berries,--these, and all +Gladdenings that make thrill the being of man +Shall pour, mixt with an unknown rage of glee, +Into the meaning men shall find in women. +And if we have at all a fear of them, +It shall not be the old ignorant dismay, +But of their very potency to delight, +The way their looks make Will an enemy +Hating itself, shall men become afraid. +Women shall cause men know for why they have +Being in the earth;--not to be quailing slack +As if the whole world were a threat, but tuned +Ready for joy as harp-strings for the player. +And great desire of beauty and to be glad +Shall prompt our courages. Ha, what are those +Breaking from out the thickets? + +_Gast_. + Wolves! They come! +Brothers, the fiends are on us: have good hearts! +Ho for the women and their sacred wombs! + +_Brys_. +Ho for the women, their beauty and my pleasure! + + + + +VASHTI + + +I + +AHASUERUS AND VASHTI + +_Vashti_. +My lord requires me here. + +_Ahasuerus_. + Does Heaven see this? +Dare I have this one humble unto me? +Was it not enough, Stars, to have given me +This marriage? but you must persuade your God +To have me as well the greatest king beneath you! +Look you now if men grow not insolent +Because of me, a man so throned, so wived. +Yea, and in me insolent groweth my love; +For if the wheels of the careering world +Brake, felley and spoke, that, pitching on the road, +It spilt the driving godhead from his seat, +And the unreined team of hours riskily dragg'd +Their crippled duty,--if in that lurching world +Like jarred glass my power shattered about me, +And I were a head unking'd, 'twere but a game, +So I were left possessing thee, and that +Escape from Heaven, the beauty that goes with thee. +Here is an insolence! Hast thou not wonder'd, +Vashti, what gave thee into such a love, +That in the brain of me, the chosen king, +It is so loud, so insolent, thy love? +O this shrill sweet heart-mastering love! + +_Vashti_. + Alas, +Do I deserve that love?--But yes, I wonder; +For what am I that the king loveth me? +Lo, I am woman, thou art man, the lord; +Out of mere bounty are we loved of you, +And not for our deserving. We are to sit +In a high calm, and not go down and help +Among the toil, and choosing, chosen, find +Companionship therein. For thou, for man +Has such a treasure in his heart of love, +It must be squandered out in charity, +Not used as a gentle money to repay +Worth (as a woman spends her love). A trick +Of posture in a girl, and see the alms +Of generous love man will enrich her with! +Might there not be sometimes too much of alms +About his love? But we will blink at that. +Yet sometimes we are liked ashamed, to be +Taking so much love from you, all for naught. +Now therefore tell me, Man, my king, my master: +Lovest thou me, or dost thou rather love +The pleasure thou hast in me? This is not nice, +Believe me. They're more sundered, these two loves, +Than if all the braving seas marcht between them. + +_Ahasuerus_. +What, shrinking from thine own delightsomeness? +Hear then. Nature, so ordered from the God, +Has given strength to man and work to do, +But to woman gave that she should be delight +For man, else like an overdriven ox +Heart-broke. The world was made for man, but made +Wisely a steep difficulty to be climbed, +That he, so labouring the stubborn slant, +May step from off the world with a well-used courage, +All slouch disgrace fought out of him, a man +Well worthy of a Heaven. And this great part +Has woman in the work; that man, fordone +And wearied, may find lodging out of the noise +Upon her breast, and looking in her eyes +May wash in pools of kindness, fresh as Heaven, +The soil of sweat and trouble from his limbs; +And turning aside into this pleasant inn +Called woman, there is entertainment kept +For man, such that for cheating craftily +The stabled palter'd heart that it can pass +Through the world's grillage and be large as fate, +The sweet anxiety of reeded pipes +Is a mere thing to it. Like Heaven street +When the steel of God's army surges through it, +Bright anger burning on an errand of swords, +So is the sense of man when woman-joy +Pours through his flesh a throng of deity, +White clamorous flame; yea, desire of woman +Maketh the mind of more room for amazement +Than that blue loft hath for the light, more charged +With spiritual joy that goes in stress +As far as tears, with this more throbbingly charged +Than the starr'd night wept full of silver fires,-- +Dangerously endured, labours of joy! +Is it not virtuous, not powerful, this? +Wouldst thou have more? Man knows he can possess +Than woman's beauty nought more treasurable. +And high above our loud activities +We keep, pure as the dawn, the house of love, +Woman, wherein we entering leave outside +Our rank sweat-drenched weeds of toil, and there +Enjoy ourselves, out of the world, awhile. + +_Vashti (aside)_. +O yes, I know. Filthiness! Filthiness! + +_Ahasuerus_. +Now here have I been toiling under press +Of glory. Should I not stumble in my gait, +Were there no Vashti, and with her a welcome +I do not need to buy, since all she wants +Is that I love her? Going in unto her +I may unstrap my burdenous pack of kingship, +Shift me of reign, and escape my splendour. +Yea, and strange largeness in this power of love +For men too much limited! Now I am sick +Of knowing my greatness, now I want to be +Placed where my soul can feel vast room about me, +To be contained. Outside, among the men, +I am the room of the world; I and my rule +Contain the world; and I am sick thereof. +Vashti can remedy this; for here thy beauty +More spacious is for my senses to be in, +Than his own golden kingdom for the sun. + +_Vashti_. +Thine eyes are glad with me? I please the King? + +_Ahasuerus_. +Eyes? But there is no nerve thou takest not, +No way of my life thronging not with thee, +And my blood sounds at the story of thy beauty. +What thing shall be held up to woman's beauty? +Where are the bounds of it? Yea, what is all +The world, but an awning scaffolded amid +The waste perilous Eternity, to lodge +This Heaven-wander'd princess, woman's beauty? +The East and West kneel down to thee, the North +And South, and all for thee their shoulders bear +The load of fourfold place. As yellow morn +Runs on the slippery waves of the spread sea, +Thy feet are on the griefs and joys of men +That sheen to be thy causey. Out of tears, +Indeed, and blitheness, murder and lust and love, +Whatever has been passionate in clay, +Thy flesh was tempered. Behold in thy body +The yearnings of all men measured and told, +Insatiate endless agonies of desire +Given thy flesh, the meaning of thy shape! +What beauty is there, but thou makest it? +How is earth good to look on, woods and fields +The seasons' garden, and the courageous hills, +All this green raft of earth moored in the seas? +The manner of the sun to ride the air, +The stars God has imagined for the night? +What's this behind them, that we cannot near, +Secret still on the point of being blabbed, +The ghost in the world that flies from being named? +Where do they get their beauty from, all these? +They do but glaze a lantern lit for man, +And woman's beauty is the flame therein +Feeding on sacred oil, man's desire, +A golden flame possessing all the earth. +Or as a queen upon an embassage +From out some mountain-guarded far renown, +Brings caravans stockt from her slavish mines, +Her looms and forges, with a precious friendship; +So comest thou from the chambers of the stars +On thy famed visit unto man the king; +So bringing from the mints and shops of Heaven, +Where thou didst own labours of all the fates, +A shining traffic, all that man calls beauty: +There is no holding out for the heart of man +Against thee and such custom. O hard to be borne, +Often hard to be borne is woman's beauty!-- +And well I guess it does but cover up +Enmity, hanging falseness between our souls, +And buy at a dishonest price the mouth +True nature hath for thee, to speak thee fair. +Were not man's thought so gilded with thy beauty, +Woman, and caught in the desire of thee, +O, there'ld be hatred in his use of thee. +You should be thankful for your pleasantness! + +_Vashti_. +Yes, I am thankful. For I hope, my lord, +We women know our style. Ay, we are fooled +Sometimes with heady tampering thoughts, that come +To bother our submission, I confess. +We to ourselves have said, that when God took +The fierce beginning of the unwrought world +From out his fiery passion, and, breathing cool, +Tamed the wild molten being, with his hands +Fashion'd and workt the hot clay into world, +Then with green mercy quieted the land +And claspt it with the summer of blue seas, +With brooches of white spray along the shores,-- +It was to be an equal dwelling-place +For humans that he did it, into sex +Unknowably dividing human kind. +But wickedly we say this. God made man +For his delight and praise, and then made woman +For man's delight and praise, submiss to man. +Else wherefore sex? And it is better thus, +To be man's pleasure. What noble work is ours, +To have our bodies proper for your love, +The means of your delight! Ay, and minds too, +Sometimes; we think, we women think we know +What shape of mind pleases our masters best, +And that we build up in us. A tender shyness, +A coy reluctancy,--we use these well. +Man is our master; it is best for us +Persuading him line our captivity +With wool-soft love, lest it be bitter iron. + +_Ahasuerus_. +This is the marvel's head, that thou, so fair, +And loved by me, should keep so good a mind. +--They shall not see thee, when I display at large +The riches and the honour; I've enough +Possession, without thee, to stupify +The assembly of my men, my herd of kings. +I mean there shall not be a hint of doubt +About whose world this is. So I have bid, +From all the utter regions of my land, +The kings whom I allow to rule, who breathe +My air, to feast with me and for a while +Flatter their trivial lives with a brief relish +Of being king of the world's kings in Shushan. +Yea, and I will dismay their wits with splendour; +No noise shall be against me in the world. +I am more open, kinder than Lord God, +Who never shows how much he has of thunder; +Wherefore against him men presume, and go +Often out of his ways extravagant. +But all the fear I keep obedient by me +Now to the gather'd world I openly shew. +So God is spoken against, I am never, +And I have a better terror in the world; +And chiefly for the happiness built round me +Divinely firm. O all the kings, my men, +Shall fear this terrible happiness of mine! +But thee I will not shew; I'll have some wealth +Not public. I'll have no adulteries, +No eyes but mine enjoying thee. To me +The sight of thee, all as the touch of thee, +Belongeth, only my pleasure thou art: +None but my senses shall come unto thee, +And I will keep my pleasure pure as Heaven. +Happy art thou, Vashti, to have wedded +One who so dearly rates possession of thee. +Better it is to spend my heart on thee +Than on any of the women that I have. + + +II + +THE FEAST OF KINGS: MIDNIGHT + +_Ahasuerus_. +You kings, you thrones that burn about the world, +Whom yet I king, lifted higher above you +Than you are lifted up above your folks: +This is my day. I have agreed with Heaven, +My fellow in the fear of the world, to have +This day unshar'd; and it is all mine, +All that the Gods from baseless fires and steams +Have harden'd into the place and kind of the world: +The great high quiet journey of the stars, +And all the golden hours which the sun +Utters aloft in heaven;--the whole is mine +To fill with ceremonies of my throne. +This one day, I am where Heaven and I +Commonly stand together; you shall not have +Shelter from me in a worshipt God to-day, +Kings; look yonder at many-power'd night, +Telling her beauty to the sea and taking +The prone adoring waters into her blue +Desire, setting them as herself on flame +With perils of joy, lending them her achieved +Raptures, her white experiences of stars. +So shall your souls lie under me these hours; +As they were waters shall they be beneath +My burning, set alight with me, and none +Escape from utterly understanding me +And why I am so kindled in my soul. + Who has been like to me? My name travels +A hundred seven and twenty languages, +My name a ship upon them, trading fear. +My unseen power weighs upon the heads +Of nations, like the blown abasement given +By sedges when they are wretched to the wind. +Ay, and the farthest goings of the air +Can reach no land my taxes do not labour. +The fear of me is the conscience of the world. +Ahasuerus is a region large +As there is light upon the earth; when dawn +With golden duties celebrates the sun, +It does but serve to fetch the lives I own +Out of shadow flinching into the light,-- +Out of sleep's mercy the sore lives that know +Only a penal sun, that are so chapt +In winds of my sent spirit: I care not, I. +For as my flesh out of my father's joy +Came, fraught from him with hunger for like joy,-- +As, when roused ages of desire within me +Play with my blood as storms play with the sea, +And all my senses tug one way like sails, +My flesh obeys, and into that perilous dream, +Woman, exults;--so, but much more, my soul, +That had its faculties from far beyond +The tingling loam of flesh, obeys a need: +Conquest, and nations to enjoy with war. +For 'tis a need that rode down out of God +Upon my journeying soul into this world's +Affairs, like smouldering fire besiegers throw +Among a city's roofs, which cannot choose +But take blaze from the whole town's timber; so +My soul's desire for flame hath charred the world. +Till now, as the night full of perfect fires, +I, full of conquests, am large over you. +And you must be like waters underneath me, +Full of my burning; there's no more for me +Now, but to dwell alone in my still soul's +Hoarding of ecstasies, a great place of lusts +Achieved and shining fixt; for every man +Is mine, and every soil is mine, from here +Round to the furthest cliffs that steadfast are +To keep the hoofs of the sea from murdering +The tilled leagues of the land. And by the coasts +I am not kept. Far into the room of waters, +Into the blue middle of ocean's summer, +The white gait of my sea-going war invades. + I have a man here, one who makes with words, +And he shall be my messenger to your hearts. +Not to make much of me; but he's the speech +Of Spirit,--I the dangerous exultation, +The Spirit's sacred joy in wrath against +The heaps of its own spent kinds, melting anew +To found in another image of itself. +He is the man to shew you, withinside +The flashing and exclaim of my great moving +About the places of the world; within +The heat of my pleasure that has molten down, +Like ingots in a furnace, all your nations +Into my likeness treading on the earth; +Within the smokes that make your eyes pour grief, +This gleam of infinite purpose quietly nested,-- +That I am given the world, and that my pleasure +Is plain the latest word spoken by God. +So while our senses go among these wines, +Wander in green deliciousness and crimson, +And fragrance searches the else-unsearchable brain, +Poet, tell out the glory of the king. + +_The Poet_. +The glory of the king of all the kings.-- +You with the golden power on your brows, +You kings, I think you know not what you are. +First you shall learn yourselves: for neither light +Understandeth itself, nor darkness light. +You see your glory; but you cannot see +That which your glory conquers; and the peoples +Know nought but that the glooming of their night +Maketh a shining scope for crowns, as he, +Even as he, your king, Ahasuerus, +Maketh your splendour a darkness for his light. +But I, neither belonging to the kings +Nor to the people, only I may know +The golden fortune of light anointing kings. +Come with me now, and take my vision awhile. + The people of this world are misery. +What doth Man here? How thinketh God on him? +Surely he was sent here as if thereby +God might forget him. Like infamous desire +A wise heart puts aside, which yet remains +A secret hated memory, man was +In God, and is vainly discarded here. +I see him coming here; I see man's life +Falling into this base and desert ground, +This world that seems an evil riddance thrown +Down by the winds of God's swift purposes; +Some shame of grossness, that would cling upon +The errand of their holy speed, and here +Heapt up and strewn into the place wherein +The mind and being of man wander darkly. +Behold him coming here!--Against my sight, +Warning aback the gleam of sacred heaven, +Is vast forbiddance raised; creatures like hills, +Or darkness surging at the coasts of light, +Stand, a great barricade behind our lives, +Rankt as Eternity had put on stature. +The sharp sides of the peaks are finger'd white +With flame, lit by the fires of God beyond; +The rest is night; the whole people of dark hills +A front of high impenetrable doom. +But lo! +Black in the blackness, is a yawn in the doom, +And out of it flows the kind of man. Behold, +It is a river, through the permission sent +As through a snarling breakage in a cliff; +Turned like a hated thing away from God; +Spat out, the water of man's life, to spill +Down bleak gullies, and thrid the gangways dark +Through the reluctant hills, pouring as if +It knew God were ashamed of it. And thence, +Rejected down the abhorring steeps, man's life +Is wasted in this country, set to run +A blind, ignorant, unremembered course, +Treading with hopeless feet of griev'd waters +Unending unblest spaces, the shameful road +Of dirt thickening into slime its flow, +An insane weather driving. For at the issue, +Hovering mightily fledge to beat it on, +A climate of demon's wings o'erarches man, +The hatred God has sent pursuing him. +Fierce hawking spirits wrong him, hungry Cold, +Crazes of Fear and sickening Want, and huge +Injurious Darkness, lord of the bad wings +That pester all the places beyond God,-- +These at the door, with lust to embody themselves, +Wait for the naked journey of man's life +To seize it into ache, ravenously. +They never leave, down all its patient way, +To meddle with its waters, till they be sour +As venom, salt as weeping, foully ailing +With foreign evil,--all the sort of desires +Whoring the shuddering life unto their lust. +Behold man's river now; it has travelled far +From that divine loathing, and it is made +One with the two main fiends, the Dark and Cold, +The faithful lovers of mankind. Behold, +Broad it is now become, a plenteous water, +A roomy tide. And lo, what oars are these? +To sweet sung measure rows what happy fleet, +With at the lifted prows banners of flame, +Bravely scaring the darkness to betray +The black embarasst flood sheared by the stems? +Behold, at last God for man's misery +Hath found excuse! Behold his wretchedness +Gilded at last with beauty pleasant to God! +No longer a useless grief is man's life now; +For floating on it, for enjoying it, +A state of barges goes, the state of kings. +They bring a day with them of many lamps, +And as they move, on the black slabbed waters +Red wounds, and green, and golden, do they shoot +About them, beautiful cruelty of light; +And they throw music over the sounding river. +I too am walking on the sea of man; +I watch your singing and your lamps row past; +And under me I hear the river speaking, +The great blind water moaning to itself +For sorrow it was made. But in your blithe ships +Silverly chained with luxury of tune +Your senses lie, in a delicious gaol +Of harmony, hours of string'd enchantment. +Or if you wake your ears for the river's voice, +You hear the chime of fawning lipping water, +Trodden to chattering falsehood by the keels +Of kings' happiness. And what is it to you, +When strangely shudders the fabric of your navy +To feel the thrilling tide beneath it grieving; +Or when its timber drinks the river's mood, +The mighty mood of man's Despair, which runs +Like subtle electric blood through all the hulls, +And tips each masthead with a glimmering candle +Blue pale and flickering like a ghost? For you +Are too much lit to mark a corposant. +Nor yours the stale smell of the unhealthful stream, +Clotted with mud and sullen with its weeds, +Who carry your own air with you, blest sweet +And drencht with many scattered fragrances. +You, sailing in golden ignorance, know not +The anxious flow of life under your way: +Do you not miss half the wonder of you?-- +That so your happiness in the thought of God +Stands, that he open'd man's expense of grief +To give your oars unscrupulous room, to be +The buoyancy of your delighted barges, +Sliding with fortunate lanterns and with tunes +And odorous holiday, O kings, O you +The pleasure of God, richly, joyously launcht +On this kind sea, the tame sorrow of Man? +You need poets to reckon your marvellousness---- + +_Ahasuerus_. +Where is he driving? I set thee not to this; +It was to tell what I, not what they, be. + +_Poet_. +How can they know what thou art, if not first +I tell them what they are themselves, my king? + +_Ahasuerus_. +Thou hast a night, man, not a week to tell them. +You men of words, dealers in breath, conceit +Too bravely of yourselves;--O I know why +You love to make man's life a villainous thing, +And pose his happiness with heavy words. +You mean to puff your craft into a likeness +Of what hath been in the great days of the Gods. +When Tiamat, the old foul worm from hell, +Lay coiled and nested in the unmade world, +All the loose stuff dragg'd with her rummaging tail +And packt about her belly in a form, +Where she could hutch herself and bark at Heaven,-- +The god's bright soldier, Bel, fashioned a wind; +And when her jaws began her whining rage +Against him, into her guts he shot the wind +And rent the membranes of her life. So you +Wordmongers would be Bel to the life of man. +You like not that his will should heap the world +About him in a fumbled den of toil; +And set the strength of his spirit, not to joy, +But to laborious money; so you stand forth +And think with spoken wind to make such stir +And rumble in the inwards of man's life, +That he in a noble colic will leap up +Out of his cave of work and breathe sweet air. +You will not do it: man prefers his den. +Now leave mankind alone and sing of me. + +_Poet_. +So; I will tell thy glory now aright. +I will not make it thy chief wonder, King, +That thou hast tied the world upon a rack; +Or that thy armies be so huge, the earth +Sways like a bridge of planks beneath their march, +And leagues about their way out of the ground +Like thunder comes the rumour of thy vengeance. +These be but shows of kingship; but one thing +Exclaims, inevitably as a word +Announced by God, thee first of the world's souls,-- +That thou mayst have in thy arms Vashti the Queen.-- +Princes, what looks are these? +Why are your minds astonisht so unwisely? +What, think you war the thing, or pompous fame? +See if I speak not truth of love and woman. + You will have heard how lightning's struck a man, +Shepherd or wayfarer, and when they found +The branded corpse, the rayment was torn off, +Blown into tatters and strewn wide by that +Withering death, and he birth-naked stretcht: +Bethink you, is not that now very like +How woman smites your souls? Whatever dress +Of thought you take to royalize your nature,-- +Gorgeous shawls of kingship, a world's fear, +Or ample weavings of imagination, +Or the spun light of wisdom,--like a gust +Of flame, that weather of impersonal thought +You strut beneath, that hanging storm of Love, +Strikes down a terrible swift dazzling finger, +Sight of some woman, on your clothed hearts, +And plucks the winding folly off, and leaves +Bare nature there. And hear another likeness. +Look, if the priests have made an altar-fire, +They can have any flame they list, as gums +Sprinkle the fluel, or salts, or curious earths,-- +Tawny or purple, green, scarlet, or blue, +Or moted with an upward rain of sparks; +But first there must be air, or else no fire: +Man's being is a fire lit unto God, +And many thoughts colour the sacred flame; +But the air for him, the draught wherein he glows, +The breathing spirit that has turned mere life +Into the hot vehement being of man +Lambent upon the altar of the world, +Is woman and desire of her, nought else. +Behold, we know not what we do at all +When we love women: is it we who love, +Or Destiny rather visiting our souls +In passion?--How shall I name thee what thou art, +Woman, thou dream of man's desire that God +Caught out of man's first sleep and fashioned real? +Deliverance art thou from his own strait thought, +Wind come from beyond the stars +To blow away like mist all the disgrace +Of reasonable bars, +The forgery of time and place, +Whereinto soul was narrowly brought +When it was gridded close behind +The workings of man's mind. +But Woman comes to bless +With an immoderateness, +With a divine excess, +Lust of life and yearn of flesh, +Till there seems naught hindering our souls: +Else we should crawl along the years +Labour'd with measurable joys +No greater than our life, +Things carefully devised against tears; +And as snails harden their sweat +To brittle safety, a carried shell, +So we might build out of our woe of toil +Serious delight. +But to see and hear and touch Woman +Breaks our shell of this accursed world, +And turns our measured days to measureless gleam. +Up in a sudden burning flares +The dark tent of nature pitched about our souls; +And light, like a stound of golden din, +A shadowless light like weather of infinite plains, +Light not narrowed into place, +Amazes the naked nerves of the soul; +And like the pouring of immortal airs +Out of a flowery season, +Over us blows the inordinate desire.-- + Ah, who from Hell did the wisdom bring +That would make life a formal thing? +Who has invented all the manner and wont, +The customary ways, +That harness into evil scales +Of malady our living? +But how they shrivel and craze +If love but glance on them! +And as a bowl of glass to shattering +Shivers at a sounding string, +The brittle glittering self of man +At beauty of Woman throbs apieces, +And seems into Eternity spilled +The being it contained. +Let it touch Woman and flesh becomes +Finer and more thrilled +Than air contrived in tune, +Lighter round the soul +Than flame is round burning. +She is God's bribery to man +That he the world endure, +His wage for carrying the weight of being. +Nay, she is rather the eternal lure +Out of form and things that end, +Out of all the starry snares, +Out of the trap of years, +Into measureless desire; +Lest man be satisfied with mind,-- +Be never stung into self-hate +At crouching always in the crate +Of prudent knowledge round him wrought, +And so grow small as his own thought. + Kings, think of the woman's body you love best +How the beloved lines twin and merge, +Go into rhyme and differ, swerve and kiss, +Relent to hollows or like yearning pout,-- +Curves that come to wondrous doubt +Or smooth into simplicities; +Like a skill of married tunes +Curdled out of the air; +How it is all sung delivering magic +To your pent hamper'd souls! +I tell you, kings, yours are but stammer'd songs +To that enchantment fashion'd for him, +That ceremony of life's powers, +The loveliness of Vashti; +That unbelievable worship made +For King Ahasuerus. +He to whom the loveliest she is given, +Least is bound to ended things, +Belongeth most on earth to Heaven; +Hath the whitest wind of flame +To burn his soul clean of the world, +Clean of mortal imaginings, +And back to the Beauty whence he came. +Now you hear the glory of the king of kings, +That he knows Vashti, that he lives +In this pleasure always. +Ah, could you see her! But perhaps she is +Too fearful in her beauty for most men. +I think she would dismay you, and unhitch +The sinews from their purchase on your bones, +And have you spelled as a wizard spells his ghosts. +Yet 'twould be mercy so to harm your sense. +The truth does not more wonderfully walk, +Whose gestures are the stars, than in her ways +This queen's body sways. +And there is such language in her hair +As the sun's self doth talk. +King, let them see her! lest they return unwise +Of thy true kingship, and among themselves +Imagine that they are even as thou, +Save in the height of throne. Let them perceive +That, having Vashti, there is none like thee: +Others are men; but thou art he whose spirit +Is station'd in the beauty of the queen, +Whose flesh knows such amazement as before +Never beneath the lintels of man's sense +Came, an especial messenger from Heaven. + +_Ahasuerus_. +Bring her! let the Queen come crowned before us! +Slaves, fetch here all your light to shine upon +My Vashti's beauty; let there be clear floor; +Make the air worthy her with camphire lit +And frankincense; and fill the hall with flames. +Then gaze, kings, and stare, hunger with your eyes +Upon her face; but within brakes of fear +Fasten your wills, and move not from your seats. +Exult, you thron'd nations, that to your sight +She shall be lent, the pleasure of the king, +She whom to visit so inflames my soul, +That I can judge how God burns to enjoy +The beauty of the Wisdom that he made +And separated from himself to be +Wife to the divine act, mother of heavens.-- +Let Vashti come and stand before the kings! + + +III + +VASHTI AND THE KING'S WOMEN AT THEIR FEAST + +_1st Woman_. +Queen, is it well to be so sorrowful? + +_2nd Woman_. +And when the King our lord spendeth on us +This festival out of his rich heart, to shoot +Thy looks upon us as thou wouldst rebuke us? + +_Vashti_. +Your pardon: do I trouble your greed? + +_1st Woman_. + Our greed? +Rather our gratitude---- + +_2nd Woman_. + That we have share +In these devices of the King's own cooks, +These costly breads,-- + +_1st Woman_. + And these delicious meats, +These sauces mixt of spicy treacle and balm. + +_3rd Woman_. +And wines, purple and blue and like gold fire, +Made of the colours of the morning sea +And fragrance wild as woman's need of love. + +_Vashti_. +Enjoy them then: who lets you? + +_3rd Woman_. + Thou dost, Queen. +Thou sittest with hands folded in thy robe, +And in the midst of delicacies wilt fast. + +_1st Woman_. +We see thine eyes upon them as they were +Wickedness. + +_2nd Woman_. + 'Tis rare bounty that we women +Halve with the King his festival. + +_3rd Woman_. + And thou, +It seems, scarce findest it thankworthy. + +_Vashti_. + Again, +Your pardon: but ye need not gaze on me.-- +And yet, why am I sorrowful? In truth, +Is it a sorrow that so leans upon me? +I know not. But my soul knoweth right well +That I am watched. + +_3rd Woman_. + Then in thy conscience, Queen, +Thou feelest the King requiring thanks of thee. + +_Vashti_. +Be careful of thy tongue,--and of the wine.-- +Who watches me? Eyes are fixt on my soul, +Eyes of desire. I think some great event +Hath pusht its spirit forward of its time, +To stand here quietly waiting, into my mind +Inflicting its strange want of me, and ready +To fetch my heart, and ready to take my hand +And lead me away shrinking: is it Death? +It is some marvellous thing: for I know surely +Behind it crowd out of their discipline +The coming hours to watch me seized, and stare +With questioning brows on me, and lift lean hands +From under gowns of shadow to point me out +One to another, saying: "This is she: +How will she bear it, think ye?"--Is it not cold? +Was there not wind just then?--The flames are steady. + +_1st Woman_. +No wind at all: the air's like one closed room. + +_2nd Woman_. +There is no talk like this at the King's feast, +I warrant. Were we not best be merry, +And thank the King so for these wines and sweets? + +_Vashti_. +Yes, let us not forget our thankfulness; +For is not, sisters, everything we have +Mere gift? + +_2nd Woman_. + My beauty pays for what I get. + +_Vashti_. +I would, 'twere not so. + +_2nd Woman_. + Queen, I doubt thee not. + +_Vashti_. +Pert little fool, where lies thy beauty, then? +Thou hast it not: its place is not thy flesh, +But the delighting loins of men, there only. +Thy beauty! And thou knowest not that man +Hath forged in his furnace of desire our beauty +Into that chain of law which binds our lives-- +Man, please thyself, and woman, please thou man. +But thou wilt have thy beauty pence, thou sayest? +And what's thy purchase? Listen, I will tell thee: +Just that thou art not whipt and drudged: the rest, +All that thou hast beyond, is gift. + +_2nd Woman_. + Why not? + +_Vashti_. +Truly, for thee, why not? + +_2nd Woman_. + Wouldst thou, 'twere yours? + +_1st Woman_. +Thou shudderest again; what ails thee, Queen? + +_Vashti_. +I would have lived in beauty once. + +_2nd Woman_. + In whose? + +_Vashti_. +I know the King finds relish in thy looks, +Wench, and I have no care to grudge thy pride; +But when thy face is named throughout the world +For wonder, I will bear thy impudence. + +_1st Woman_. +But tell us, Queen, thy thought; for we have made +An end almost of eating; and it seems +It will be somewhat strange, pleasing our mood. + +_Vashti_. +Strange you will find it doubtless; but scarce pleasing, +Unless 'tis pleasing to have news of danger. +Listen! your lives are propt like a rotten house. +Your souls, that should have noble lodging here, +Have crept like peasants into huts that have +No force within their walls, but must be shored +With borrowed firmness. Yea, man's stubborn lust +To feed his heart upon your beauty, is all +The strength your lives have, all that holdeth you +Safe in the world,--propt like a rotten house. + +_1st Woman_. +Shall woman then not love to have man's love? + +_3rd Woman_. +To feed his heart on us, thou sayest? O yea! +And how can a woman know such might of living +As when upon her breast she feels the man, +The man of her desire, like sacrament +Feeding his heart, yea and his soul, on her? + +_Vashti_. +Are we for nought but so to nourish him? + +_3rd Woman_. +Thou art too proud, O Queen, too proud and lonely, +And goest apart to have thy thought too much. +'Tis known, too much thought dazes oft a mind, +Till it can learn nought of the signed evil +God hath put in the faces of evil notions, +That spiritual sight may ken them coming +Sly and demure, and safely shut the brain +Ere they be in and swell themselves to lordship. +Hence is it that an evil thought in thee +Hath dared so far, and played its wickedness +Strangely within thee, braving even into speech. + +_1st Woman_. +Strangely indeed thy brain's inhabited. +What, is there aught prosperity for woman +But to be shining in the thought of man? + +_Vashti_. +I wisht to prosper in the life I had, +That the Gods might approve the flourishing +Their heavenly graft of soul took from my flesh. +Therefore I wisht to love. And I did love.-- +There came Ahasuerus conquering +Into my father's land. My fancying hate +Had made a man-beast of him, a thing, like man, +Tall in his walk, but in the mood of his eyes +A beast, and in the noise of his mouth a beast. +He came, and lookt at me; and, in a while, +I saw that he was speaking to me there. +And all the maiden went in me before him, +Swifter than in a moon which looks against +The morning, all the silver courage fails.-- +How cam'st thou to the King? + +_1st Woman_. + Sold to him, I. + +_2nd Woman_. +Bought by him, I: for he had heard of me. + +_Vashti_. +I also, sold or bought; nay, rather paid: +Paid like cash to him, that as servant king +My father might have life, and a throne in life. +It mattered nothing then. [_The_ QUEEN _pauses_. +Often in early summer, as I walkt +A girl singing her happiness, beside +The high green corn, holding all earth my own, +I saw, as my feet and my voice past by, +How in its hiding some croucht little beast +Startled, and filled a space of the gentle corn +With plunging quivering fear. And always then +My heart answer'd the fear that shook the corn, +With a sudden doubt in its beating; for I knew +Within my life such rousing of dismay +I myself should watch, with seizing wonder. +It was so: in the midst of my new love, +That promist such a plenty in my soul, +At last some sleeping terror leapt awake, +And made the young growth shiver and wry about +Inwardly tormented. Yea, and my heart +It was, my heart in its hiding of green love, +That took so wildly the approaching sound +Of something strangely fearful walking near. + +_3rd Woman_. +A queer tale, this. + +_1st Woman_. + A spectre visited you? + +_Vashti_. +Indeed, a spectre. + +_1st Woman_. + That have I never seen. +Was it the kind with nose and mouth grown sharp +To an eagle's bill, and claws upon its fingers, +The curve of them pasted with a bloody glue? + +_Vashti_. +The spectre was--my beauty. + +_3rd Woman_. + It is as I said. +O Queen, send for a wise man in the morning; +And let him leech thy spirit. + +_4th Woman_. + I've heard, the best +Riddance for evil notions in the mind, +Is for a toad to sit upon the tongue; +While, breathed against the scalp, some power of spells +Loosens the clasp the notion hath digg'd deep +Into the soul; so that it passeth down, +Shaken and mastered, and creeps into the toad,-- + +_3rd Woman_. +Which gives a foolish kick or start to feel it,-- + +_4th Woman_. +Then the trapt notion may be easily burnt. + +_Vashti_. +Yea?--I think mine would not burn easily. +With fire, with such indignant fire as pride +Yields, when it must destroy itself to feel +The power of the world touch it with humbling flame,-- +With such a fire, whose heat you know not of, +Have I assayed this--notion, didst thou say? +And it stood upright, with its shape unquencht, +And lived within the fire. + +_3rd Woman_. + Thou hast it wrong. + +_4th Woman_. +Thou hast not understood the cure we meant. + +_2nd Woman_. +Stop brabbling, fools; I would hear the Queen's mind. + +_1st Woman_. +I too; I hate a thing I cannot skill; +And thee and all that lives in thee, O Queen, +I would keep friendly to my spirit; yet +I do suspect something amazing in thee. + +_Vashti_. +And if thou seest not how slippery +Is women's place in the world of men, 'tis like +Thou wilt amazedly the vision take, +When I have led thee up my tower of thought. + +_2nd Woman_. +How are we dangerous? Are we not women, +Man's endless need? + +_Vashti_. + Ay, and therein the danger! +Is it not possible he hate the need? +For not as he were a beast it urges him: +He is aware of it, he knows its force,-- +The kind of beasts is in their blood alone, +But man is blood and spirit. And in him, +As in all creature, is the word from God, +"Utter thyself in joy." + +_2nd Woman_. + And we his joy. + +_Vashti_. +But such an one that may become, perhaps, +Something not utterance, but strict commanding, +Yea, mastery, like the dancing in the blood +Of one bitten by spiders. And it is Spirit, +Spirit enjoying woman, that hath sent +A beating poison in the blood of man, +The poison which is lust. Spirit was given +To use life as a sense for ecstasy; +Life mixt with Spirit must exult beyond +Sex-madden'd men and sex-serving women, +Into some rapture where sweet fleshly love +Is as the air wherein a music rings. +But blood hath captured Spirit; Spirit hath given +The strength of its desire of joy to make +What ecstasy it may of woman's beauty, +And of this only, doing no more than train +The joys of blood to be more keen and cunning; +As men have trained and tamed wild lives of the forests, +Breeding them to more excellent shape and size +And tireless speed, and to know the words of men. +So the wise masterful Spirit rules the joys +That come all fierce from roaming the dark blood; +They are broken to his desire, they are wily for him, +A pack of lusts wherewith the Spirit hunts +Pleasure; and the chief prey the pleasure hid +In woman. + +_1st Woman_. + What joys are these? + +_Vashti_. + What joys? +The joys of rutting beasts, tamed to endure, +Tamed to be always swift to answer Spirit, +Yet fiercer for their taming, wilder hungers; +So that the Spirit, if he hunt them not, +Fears to be torn by them in mutiny. +Now know you woman's beauty! 'Tis these joys, +The heat of the blood's desires, changed and mastered +By the desire of spirit, trained to serve +Spirit with lust, spirit with woman enjoy'd. + +_2nd Woman_. +Queen, I am beautiful, and cannot boast +Thy subtle thinking; and to one like me, +What matters whence come beauty, so I have it? +Let it be but the witless mating of beasts, +Tamed and curiously knowing itself +And cunning in its own delight: What then? +The nightingale desires his little lass, +And that brings out of his heart a radiant song; +A man desires a woman, and for song +Out of his heart comes beauty, that like flame +Reaches towards her, and covers her limbs with light. +If it so please thee, say that neither loves +Aught but his life's desire, fashioning it +Adorably to marvellous song and beauty. +What then? Enough that the wonder lights on me, +To me is paid the worship of the wonder. + +_Vashti_. +O well I know how strong we are in man; +His senses have our beauty for their god, +And his delight is built about us like +Towering adoration, housing worship.-- +The spirit of man may dwell in God: the world, +From the soft delicate floor of grass to those +Rafters of light and hanging cloths of stars, +Is but the honour in God's mind for man, +Wrought into glorious imagination. +But women dwell in man; our temple is +The honour of man's sensual ecstasy, +Our safety the imagined sacredness +Fashion'd about us, fashion'd of his pleasure. +Beauty hath done this for us, and so made +Woman a kind within the kind of man. +Yea, there is more than this: a mighty need +Hath man made of his woman in the world. +Now man walks through his fate in fellowship +Of two companion spirits; ay, and these +With double mastery go on with him. +The one in black disgraceful weeds is Toil; +She sows with never-ending gesture all +The path before his feet, cursing the way +She drags him on with growth of flouting crops, +Urchin thistles, and rank flourishing nettles. +But the other has a wear of woven gleam, +And with soft hand beseeches him his face +Away from the hardships of his hurt stung feet, +That with his eyes he may desire her looks: +And she is Beauty of Woman, man's dear blessing. +And if you would be wise, be well afraid +To think you have more office than to be +A sweet delicious while amid man's hours +Of worldly labour: we are too precious, so. +Yet see you not how this that Spirit hath done +Is also dangerous?--For there are mightier needs! +There's no content for Spirit in the world +Till he has striven out of bounded fate, +And sent an infinite desire forth +Into the whole eternity of things. +Yea, spirit ails with loathing secretly +The irremediable force of being; +Unless, with free expatiate desire, +He shape into the endless burning flux +Of starry world blindly adventuring +Some steady righteous destiny for Spirit: +Even as dreaming brain fashions the fume +Of life asleep to marshall'd imagery. +But we are in the way of this: and man, +The more he needs to announce upon the world, +Over him going like a storming air, +That fashioning word which utters the divine +Imagination working in him like anger; +The more he finds his virtue caught and clogged +In the fierce luxury he hath made of woman. +Thence are we sin, thence deliciously +Persuading man refuse his highest ardour. +Too easily kindled was the ecstasy +Of fleshly passion, with a joyous flame +Too readily answering the Spirit's fire! +He burns with us alone, so fragrantly +His noblest vigour swoons delighted. Yea, +Women, I tell you, not far now is man +From hating us, so passionate the joy +Of loving us, so mightily drawing down +Into the service of his pleasure here +All forces of his being. The pleasure soon +Becomes a shame, scarce to be spoken aloud; +And in best minds, either detested doting +Man's joy in woman's beauty will become; +Or a strict binding fire, holding him down +In lust of beauty where no beauty is. + + [_The_ KING'S MESSENGER _comes in_. + +_Messenger_. +To Vashti, to the Queen of the world, to her +In whom the striving beauty of the world +Hath made perfection, from the King I come. +And the King bids me say, Rise from thy feast; +For thou must be to-night thyself a feast: +The vision of thy loveliness must now +Feed with astonishment my vassals' hearts. +Therefore thou art to come. + +_Vashti_. + And tell the King +I will not come. + +_Messenger_. + What was there in my words +Thou dost not understand?--I say, the King +Would show thy beauty to his under-kings, +That with this also they may be amazed +And utterly fear his fortune. + +_Vashti_. + So. Go back, +Tell the King I have hearkened to his message, +And tell him I will not come. + +_Messenger_. +What sickness shall I say has lighted on thee, +So that thou canst not come? + +_Vashti_. + Thou weariest me. +Say this to the King, Vashti will not come. +Are they not plain, my words? Canst thou not learn +them? + +_Messenger_. +Give me some softer speech. Must I not fear +I shall earn whipping if I take these words? + +_Vashti_. +I pray thee, go. Thou art a trouble here; +Seest thou not how all these feasting women +Pause, and the pleasure is distrest in them? +Thou hast thy message: say, She will not come.-- +Back to the King, now! + +_Messenger_. + I am whipt for this. + + [_He goes_. + +_Vashti_. +It seems, my sisters, we have changed our moods. +But now, my mind was heavy, you were blithe; +And in a moment, you, behold, are fixt +Gazing like desperate things, while I rejoice. + +_1st Woman_. +Rejoice! thou dost rejoice? then madness does. + +_Vashti_. +I know not that: but certainly I know +A mind, that has been feeling for long time +The greatness of some hovering event +Poised over life, will rejoice marvellously +When the event falls, suddenly seizing life: +Like faintness when a thunderstorm comes down, +That turns to exulting when the lightning flares, +Shattering houses, making men afraid. +And this is my event: I am its choice. +Yea, not as a storm, but as an eagle now +It stoops on me; and, though I am its prey, +I am lifted by majestic wings, my soul +Is clothed in swiftness of a mighty soaring. + +_3rd Woman_. +What glory can her wondrous eyes behold? + +_4th Woman_. +Seemeth her flesh to glow! and her throat pants +As one who feels a god within her, come +Out of his heaven to enjoy her. + +_2nd Woman_. + Ay, +Now it is true, the Queen is beautiful; +She could, so looking, enrage love in one +Whose blood a hundred years had frozen dry. + +_1st Woman_. +Ah, but I fear thee, Queen: this dreadful mood +Will break the pleasantness of friendship thou +Hast kept for me, as a ship in a gale is broken. + +_Vashti_. +Ay, very like: and the event will rouse +Such work in the water where your comfort sails, +More than my fortune will to pieces blow; +You too I think will get some perilous tossing +From what proves my destruction. + +_2nd Woman_. + And, so knowing, +For mere insane delight in violent things, +Wilt thou awake in the fickle mood of men +Again that ancient ignominy which once, +Till beauty freed them, loaded the souls of women? + +_3rd Woman_. +Truly, long time will work what now thou doest. + +_Vashti_. +I know not rightly what I here begin; +No more than one, who stands in midst of wind +On a tall mountain, knows what breaking down +The earth must have ere the wind's speed is done, +And it hath drawn out of the drenched soil +The clinging vapours, and made bright the air. + +_2nd Woman_. +But we'll not have thee disobedient. +The King's mind is a summer over us; +Thou with a storm wilt fill him, and the hail +That shatters thee will leave us bruised and weeping. + +_Vashti_. +Be sulky in his arms: the weather soon +Will pleasantly favour thee again. + +_4th Woman_. + No, no; +Not because from our heaven of man's mind +Thou wilt bring down on us a rain of scorn, +But because thou art wicked, thou must go +And tell the King the wine was rash in thee. + +_Vashti_. +I must! + +_3rd Woman_. + Thou must indeed: words such as thine +Never were impudent in men's ears before. + +_2nd Woman_. +We will not have thee disobedient. + +_1st Woman_. +Here comes another: gentle words, my Queen, +Let him take from thee now, and swiftly follow +Contrite, and let the beauty of thy grief +Bend pleading against the King's furious eyes. + + [_The_ POET _comes in, and kneels_. + +_Poet_. +I will not ask thee what strange anger sent +That blaze of proud contempt in the King's face: +But ere the voice of the King seals up thy life +In an unalterable judgment, I +Am granted now to come as his last message: +And, as I will, to speak. Here then I am +Not as commanding, but on my knees beseeching, +And for myself beseeching. + +_Vashti_. + What hast thou +To do with this? and wherefore wert thou chosen? + +_Poet_. +I was to praise the splendour of the King; +And I made thee his splendour; and the King, +Knowing my truth, would have thee brought, to break +All the pride of his under-kings, already +Desperate with his riches, and now seeing +What marvellous fortune also hath his love, +How marvellously delighted. + +_Vashti_. + Get thee back: +And tell the King 'tis time his judgment fell. + +_Poet_. +Not till thou hearest me. + +_Vashti_. + I will not hear thee. +Wouldst thou go on before me, and say, Look, +This is the woman which I told you of, +You kings; does she not, as I said, stir up +Quaking desire through all your muscles? Look, +And thank the King for showing you his lust!-- +I will not hear thee. + +_Poet_. + Dost thou not know, my Queen, +That, when I taught thee songs, thou taughtest me +The divine secret, Beauty? My small tunes +Were games to thee; but now I am he who knows +How man may walk upon Eternity +Wearing the world as a god wears his power, +The world upon him as a burning garment; +For I am he whose spirit knoweth beauty,-- +And thou art the knowledge, Queen! Therefore thou must +Come with me to the kings of all the nations; +For the whole earth must know of thee. These kings, +Though it be but a lightning-moment struck +Upon the darkness of their ignorant hearts, +Must know what I know; that there is a beauty, +Only in thee shown forth in bodily sign, +Which can of life make such triumphant glee, +The force of the world seems but man's spirit utter'd. + +_Vashti_. +And what am I to know?--This must, no doubt, +Content me, that we are as wine, and men +By us have senses drunk against his toil +Of knowing himself, for all his boasting mind, +Caught by the quiet purpose of the world, +Burnt up by it at last, like something fallen +In molten iron streaming. But I know +Not drunken may man's soul master his world; +And I now make for woman a new mood, +Wherein she will not bear to know herself +A heady drug for man.--I will not come. + +_Poet_. +I, who have brought thy insult on the King, +Will scarce escape his judgment. But not this +My pleading. Seest thou not how wonderfully +The mean affairs of living fill with gleam, +Like pools of water lying in the sun, +Because above men's minds renown of thee, +The certain knowledge of beauty, now presides? +It must not be that thou, for a whim of scorn, +Wilt let thyself be made unseen, unheard of. +Beauty is known in thee; but, without thee, +It is a rumour buzzing hardly heard. +And without beauty men are scurrying ants, +Rapid in endless purpose unenjoyed; +Or newts in holes under the banks of ponds, +Feeding and breeding without sound or light. +For the one thing that is the god in man +Is a delight that admirably knows +Itself delighted; and it is but beauty. +And thou art beauty known. + +_Vashti_. + Truly, I say, +I know not how to bear it; that for you +To feel yourselves, though in the depth of the world, +Dizzy, and thence as if elate on high, +We women are devised like drunkenness. +And what are we to make of ourselves here, +When in the joy of us you think the world +No more than your spirits crying out for joy? +Is this your love, to dream a god of man, +And women to keep as wine to make you dream?-- +Now, back! or the eunuchs handle thee. + + [_He goes_. + +_Vashti_. +You will not hear of me after this night, +And thus I say farewell. It may be, far +In time not yet appointed, our life's spirit +Will know its fate, through all the thickets of grief, +As simply and as gladly as one's eyes +Greet the blue weather shining behind trees. +Yea, and I think there will be more than this: +Is not the world a terrible thing, a vision +Of fierce divinity that cares not for us? +Do we not seem immortal good desire, +Mortally wronged by capture in swift being +Made of a world that holds us firm for ever? +And yet is it not beautiful, the world? +How read you that? How is our wrong delightful? +Thus it is: Spirit finding the world fair, +Is spirit in dim perception of its own +Radiant desire piercing the worldly shadow. +But what is dim will become glorious clear: +All in a splendour will the Spirit at last +Stand in the world, for all will be naught else +But Spirit's own perfect knowledge of itself; +Yea, this dark mighty seeming of the world +Is but the Spirit's own power unsubdued; +And as the unruled vigours of thought in sleep +Crowd on the brain, and become dream therein; +So the strange outer forces of man's spirit +Are the appearing world. But all at last, +Subdued, becomes self-knowing ecstasy, +The whole world brightens into Spirit's desire. +This is for Spirit to be lord of life; +And man, with foolish hope looking for this, +Takes the ravishing drunkenness he hath +From us, for knowledge of the Spirit's power. +But it will come by love. It will be twain +Who go together to this height of mastery +Over the world, governing it as song +Is govern'd by the heart of him who sings; +But never one by means of one shall reach it: +Not man alone, nor woman alone, but each +Enabling each, together, twain in one. + + [_The_ KING'S MESSENGER _comes in_. + +_Messenger_. +I speak to the rebellious woman Vashti. +Thou art no more a Queen; thou hast no place +In the King's house, nor in the life of men: +Thus art thou judged. Go forth now; let the night +Befriend thee, for no other friend thou hast, +For the day shall reveal thee to men's eyes, +And they, obedient to the King, will hate thee. +Therefore be gone: and as the beasts have homes +In the wild ground, have thy home from henceforth. + +_Vashti_. +Gives the King reason for this judgment? + +_Messenger_. + Yea; +Because thou art a danger to all marriage, +Because men are dishonoured in their rule +Of women by thy insult, thou art judged. + +_2nd Woman_. +But if the King had heard her crazy words +He would have put her where they tame with thongs +Maniacs. + +_4th Woman_. + When the King hath slept, we will +To-morrow crave his presence, and will stand +In humble troop before him, thanking him +For that his virtue hath this wicked woman +Purged from among us, saved us from infection. + +_1st Woman_. +Alas, my Queen! where lies thy journey now? + +_Vashti_. +Ay, where to go? What shelter for me now +Will any of the dwelt earth dare to give? +My beauty as a branding now will mark me; +And shame will run before me, and await +My coming, wheresoever I would lodge. +For out of Shushan to the ends of the earth +Great news runs, with a hidden soundless speed +Through secret channels in the folks' dim mind, +As water races through smooth sloping gutters. +Swifter than any feet could bear the tale, +Going unheard, already posts abroad +A buried river, and will soon burst up +In towns and markets, far as the width of day, +A bubbling clamour, wonderful wild news: +"Vashti the Queen is judged and forced to go +Roaming the earth, outcast and infamous; +Look out for her! Be ready, if she comes, +With stones and hooting voices!"--Fare you well, +Women whom once I knew. You are quit of me: +Pardon me if I add, And I of you. + + +IV + + Into the darkness fared the outcast Queen; +Fearless her face, and searching with proud gaze +The impenetrable hour. Behind her burned +The sky, held by the open kiln of the town +In a great breath of fire, yellow and red, +From out the festival streets, and myriad links. +Still might she taste, and still must choke to taste, +The fragrance of sweet oils and gums aflame +Capturing the cool night with spicy riches; +Still after her through the hollow moveless air +The sounded ceremonies came, the cry +Of dainty lust in winding tune of fifes, +The silver fury of cymbals clamouring +Like frenzy in a woman-madden'd brain; +And drumming underneath the whole wild noise, +Like monstrous hatred underneath desire, +The thunder of the beaten serpent-skins. +Yea, in the town behind her, flaring Shushan, +She heard Man, meaning to adore himself, +Throned on the wealth of earth as God in heaven, +And making music of his glorying thought, +Merely betray the mastery of his blood, +His sexual heart, his main idolatry,-- +Woman, and his lust to devour her beauty, +Himself devoured ceaselessly by her beauty. +And well she knew, to herself bitterly smiling, +How the King seated amid his fellow-kings +Devised his grievous rage, feeling himself +Insulted in his dearest mind, his rule +Over the precious pleasure of his women +Wounded: how the man's wrath would hiss and swell +Like gross spittle spat into red-hot coals. + But as the Queen fared through the blinded hour, +Sudden against the darkness of her eyes +There came a wind of light. Crimson it was, +With smokey lightnings braided, in its first +Swift surge into the gloom before her face; +But it began to golden, and became +Astonishingly white. And as she stood +With rigour in her nerves, a mighty shudder +Ravish the light, and in the midst appeared +Vision, a goddess, terrible and kind; +And to the Queen the goddess spoke, in voice +That healed her anger with its quietness. + +_Ishtar_. +I am the goddess Ishtar, and thou art +My servant. Wilt any of thou help me? + +_Vashti_. +Am I then one whom gods may help? I am +By men judged hateful: surely I am thereby +Made over to the demons, and not thine. + +_Ishtar_. +Yet art thou mine, because thou knowest well +Thou disobeyest me. + +_Vashti_. + How do I so? + +_Ishtar_. +I am the goddess of the power of women, +And passion in the hearts of men is my +Divinity. + +_Vashti_. + Yea, then I disobey thee. + +_Ishtar_. +And yet thou shalt not fear me wronging thee: +Tell me, O thou Despair, whither thou goest? + +_Vashti_. +Thy taunt goes past me; I am not despair. + +_Ishtar_. +Verily, but thou art. Is not thy mind +A hot revolter from the service due +To my divinity, passion in men's hearts? +Is there aught else that thou mayst serve? Thou knowest +There is naught else: therefore thou art Despair. + +_Vashti_. +That I am infamous, I know. But even now, +Now when I learn I am to gods no more +Than to the lust of men, I will not be +Despair. + +_Ishtar_. + Who means so greatly to serve pride, +That the service of the world is a thing loath'd, +Is desperate, avoided by mankind, +Unpleasing to the gods. We, who look down, +Know that the world and pride may both be served. +Yet also that it was too hard for thee +We know, and pardon. Thou shalt tell me now +Why thou refusest the life given thee. + +_Vashti_. +Because I will not, woman should be sin +Amid man's life. You gods have given man +Desire that too much knows itself; and thence +He is all confounded by the pleasure of us. +How sweetly doth the heart of man begin +Desiring us, how like music and the green +First happiness of the year! But this can grow +To uncontrollably crowding lust, beyond +All power of delight to utter, thence +Inwardly turned to anger and detesting! +Till, looking on us with strange eyes, man finds +We are not his desire: it was but sex +Inflamed, so that it roused the breaking forth +Of secret fury in him, consuming life, +Yea, even the life that would reach up to know +The heaven of gods above it. + +_Ishtar_. + And what, for this, +Dost thou refuse? + +_Vashti_. + I refuse woman's beauty! +Not merely to be feasting with delight +Man's senses, I refuse; but even his heart +I will not serve. Are we to be for ever +Love's passion in man, and never love itself? +Always the instrument, never the music? + +_Ishtar_. +I have not done with man.--Thou sayest true, +Women are as a sin in life: for that +The gods have made mankind in double sex. +Sin of desiring woman is to be +The knowledgeable light within man's soul, +Whereby he kills the darken'd ache of being. +But shall I leave him there? or shall I leave +Woman amid these hungers? Nay: I hold +The rages of these fires as a soft clay +Obedient to my handling; there shall be +Of man desiring, and of woman desired, +A single ecstasy divinely formed, +Two souls knowing themselves as one amazement. +All that thou hatest to arouse in man +Prepareth him for this; and thou thyself +Art by thy very hate prepared: wherefore +The gods forgive thee, seeing what comes of thee. +Behold now! of my godhead I will make +Thy senses burn with vision, storying +The spirit of woman growing from loved to love. + +_The First Vision: Helen_. +Helen am I, a name astonishing +The world, a fame that rings against the sky, +Like an alarm of brass smitten to sound +The news of war against the stone of mountains. +I move in power through the minds of men, +And have no power to hold my power back. +Men's passions fawn upon my feet, as waves +That fiercely fawn after the going wind; +But not as the wind, shaking off the foam +Of the pursuing lust of the moaning waves, +And over the clamour of the evil seas' +Monstrous word running lightly, unhurt. +They fawn upon me, all the lusts of the world, +Bewildering my steps with straining close, +And breathe their horrible spittle against me. +Passions cry round me with the yelling cry +Of dogs chained and starving and smelling blood. +Yea, for through me the world becomes a den +Of insane greed. In helpless beauty I stand +Alone in the midst of dreadful adoration; +And, round me thronged, the fawning, fawning lusts +Open their throats upon me and whine and lick +My feet with dripping tongues, or gaze to pant +Hot hunger in my face. For I am made +To set their hearts grim to possess my life, +And with an anger of love devour my beauty; +And yet to seal up in their mastered hearts +The rage, and bring them in croucht worship down +Before me, bent with impotent desire. +A quiet place the world was ere I came +A strife, a dream of fire, into its sleep; +And with their senses ended men's delights. +But I struck through their senses burning news +Of impossible endless things, and mixt +Wild lightning into their room of darkness.--Then +Agony, and a craving for delight +Escaping sensual grasp, began in men; +And the agony was poison in the health +Of sweet desire.--The joy of me men tried +To compass with strange frenzy and desire +Made new with cunning. But still at my feet +The lusts they tarr on me crouch down and fawn +And snarl to be so fearful of their prey. +I see men's faces grin with helpless lust +About me; crooked hands reach out to please +Their hot nerves with the flower of my skin; +I see the eyes imagining enjoyment, +The arms twitching to seize me, and the minds +Inflamed like the glee-kindled hearts of fiends. +And through the world the fawning, fawning lusts +Hound me with worship of a ravenous yearning: +And I am weary of maddening men with beauty. + +_The Second Vision: Sappho_. +Into how fair a fortune hath man's life +Fallen out of the darkness!--This bright earth +Maketh my heart to falter; yea, my spirit +Bends and bows down in the delight of vision, +Caught by the force of beauty, swayed about +Like seaweed moved by the deep winds of water: +For it is all the news of love to me. +Through paths pine-fragrant, where the shaded ground +Is strewn with fruits of scarlet husk, I come, +As if through maidenhood's uncertainty, +Its darkness coloured with strange untried thoughts; +Hither I come, here to the flowery peak +Of this white cliff, high up in golden air, +Where glowing earth and sea and divine light +Are in mine eyes like ardour, and like love +Are in my soul: love's glowing gentleness, +The sunny grass of meadows and the trees, +Towers of dark green flame, and that white town +Where from the hearths, a fragrance of burnt wood, +Blue-purple smoke creeps like a stain of wine +Along the paved blue sea: yea, all this kindness +Lies amid salt immeasurable flowing, +The power of the sea, passion of love. +I, Sappho, have made love the mastery +Most sacred over man; but I have made it +A safety of things gloriously known, +To house his spirit from the darkness blowing +Out of the vast unknown: from me he hath +The wilful mind to make his fortune fair. +Yea, here I stand for the whole earth to see +How life, breathing its fortune like sweet air, +Mixing it with the kindled heart of man, +May utter it proud against the double truth +Of darkness fronting him and following him, +In a prevailing, burning, marvellous lie! +And it is love kindles the burning of it, +The quivering flame of spoken-forth desire, +Which man hath made his place within the world,-- +Love, learnt of Sappho! and not only bright +With gladness: I have devised an endless pain, +The fearful spiritual pain of love, to hold +In a firm fire, unalterably bright, +The shining forth of Spirit's imagination +Declared against the investing dark, a light +Of pain and joy, equal for man and woman. + +_The Third Vision: Theresa_. +Come, golden bridegroom, break this mortal night, +Five times chained with darkness of my senses. +At last now visit my desire, and turn +Thy feet, and the flaming path of thy feet, +Unto these walls lockt round me like a death. +Death I would have them till thou comest; yea, +The earthly stone whereof man's fortune here +Is made, strongly into deliberate death +I have built about my soul, to fend its life +From gazes of the world. I am too proud +To endure the world's desire of my beauty; +I know myself too marvellous in love +To be the joy of aught that thou hast made: +I am to be bride of thee, of the world's maker. +O God, the heart I have from thee, the heart +Uttering itself in an endless word of love, +Is sealed up in the stone of worldly night: +Set hitherward the flaming way of thy feet, +Break my night, and enter in unto me. +Come, wed my spirit; and like as the sea, +Into the shining spousal ecstasy +Of sun and wind, riseth in cloudy gleam, +So let the knowing of my flesh be clouds +Of fire, mounting up the height of my spirit, +Fire clouding with flame the marriage hour +Wherein my spirit keeps thy dreadful light +Away from Heaven in a bridal kiss,-- +Fire of bodily sense in spiritual glee +Held, as fire of water in sunlit air. +Ah God, beautiful God, my soul is wild +With love of thee. Hitherward turn thy feet, +Turn their golden journeying towards this night,-- +This night of cavernous earth; and now let shine +These walls of stone, against thy nearing love, +Like pure glass smitten by the power of the sun; +And let them be, in thy descending love, +Like glass in a furnace, falling molten down, +Back from thy burning feet streaming and flowing, +Leaving me naked to thy bright desire.-- +Enjoy me, God, enjoy thy bride to-night. + +_Vashti_. +Too well I know the first, the scarlet clad; +And she, that was in shining white and gold, +Was as the sound of bees and waters, at last +Heard by one long closed in the dins of madness. +But what was she, the black-robed, with the eyes +So fearfully alight, the last who spoke? + +_Ishtar_. +Take none of these for perfect: they are moods +Purifying my women to become +My unexpressive, uttermost intent.-- +As music binds into a strict delight +The manifold random sounds that shake the air, +Even so fashioned must I have the being +That fills with rushing power the boundless spirit: +Amidst it, musically firm, a joy +That is a fiery knowledge of itself, +Thereby self-continent, a globed fire. +And she who gave thee wonder, is the sign +Of those who firmest, brightest hold their being +Fastened and seized in one enjoyed desire. +Yet even they are but a making ready +For what I perfectly intend: in them +Joy of self-bound desire hath burnt itself +To extreme purity; I am free thereby +To work my meaning through them, my divinity. +Yea, such clean fire in man and such in woman +To mingle wonderfully, that the twain +Become a moment of one blazing flame +Infinitely upward towering, far beyond +The boundless fate of spirit in the world. +But in the way to this are maladies +And anguish; and as a perilous bridge +Over the uncontrolled demanding world, +Virginity, passionate self-possessing, +Must build itself supreme, unbreakable. +--I leave thee: as thou mayst, be comforted +By prophecy of what I mean in life. +Against thee is not Heaven, and thou must +Endure the hatred men will throw upon thee. + + * * * * * + +The shining place where Ishtar looked at her +Empty the Queen beheld; and into mist +The glory fainted, and the stars came through +Untroubled. Into the night the Queen went on. + + + + +PART II + + +IMPERFECTION + + + + +MARY + +[A LEGEND OF THE FORTY-FIVE] + + +I + +_A street in Carlisle leading to the Scottish Gate. Three +girls_, MARY, KATRINA, and JEAN. + +_Katrina_. +What a year this has been! + +_Mary_. + There's many a lass +Will blench to hear the date of it--Forty-five,-- +Poor souls! Why will the men be fighting so, +Running away to find out death, as if +It were some tavern full of light and fiddling? +And when the doors are shut, what of the girls +Who gave themselves away, and still must live? +Are not men thoughtless? + +_Katrina_. + Leaving only kisses +To be remembered by. + +_Jean_. + That's not so bad +As when the dead lads went beyond kissing. + +_Mary_. +Poor souls! Well, Carlisle has at least three hearts +That are not crying for a lad who's gone +Listening to the lean old Crowder, Death. +We needn't mope: and yet it's sad. + +_Jean_. + Come on, +Why are we dawdling? All the heads are up, +Steepled on spikes above the Scottish Gate,-- +Some of the rebels rarely handsome too. + +_Mary_. +Won't it be rather horrible? + +_Katrina_. + A row +Of chopt-off heads sitting on spikes--ugh! + +_Jean_. + Yes, +And I daresay blood dribbling here and there. + +_Mary_. +Don't, Jean! I am going back. I was +Forbid the gate. + +_Katrina_. + And so was I. + +_Jean_. + And I. + +_Katrina_. +But a mere peep at them? + +_Jean_. + Yes, come on, Mary. + +_Mary_. +We might just see how horrible they are. + +_Jean_. +Sure, they will make us shudder; + +_Katrina_. + Or else cry. + + [_A_ MAN _meets them_. + +_Man_. +Are you for the show, my girls? + +_Jean_. + We aren't your girls. + +_Katrina_. +Do you mean the heads upon the Scottish Gate? + +_Man_. +Ay, that's the show, a pretty one. + +_Jean_. + Are all +The rebels' heads set up? + +_Man_. + All, all; their cause +Is fallen flat; but go you on and see +How wonderly their proud heads are elate. + +_Katrina_. +Do any look as if they died afeared? + +_Man_. +Go and learn that yourselves. And when you mark +How grimly addled all the daring is +Now in those brains, do as your hearts shall bid you, +And that is weep, I hope. + +_Mary_. + O let's go back. + +_Jean_. +We have no friends spiked on the Scottish Gate. + +_Man_. +No? Well, there's quite a quire of voices there, +Blessing the King's just wisdom for his stern +Strong policy with the rebels. + +_Mary_. + Who are those?-- +I think it's fiendish to have killed so many. + +_Man_. +The chattering birds, my lass, and droning flies: +They're proper Whigs, are birds and flies,--or else +The Whigs are proper crows and carrion-bugs. + + [_He goes on past them_. + +_Katrina_. +A Jacobite? + +_Jean_. + That's it, I warrant you. +One of the stay-at-homes. + +_Mary_. + Now promise me, +We'll only take a glimpse, girls, a short glimpse. + +_Jean (laughing)_. +Yes, just to see how horrible they are. + + [_They go on towards the gate_. + + +II + +_The Scottish Gate, Carlisle. Among the crowd_. + +_Mary_. +O why did we come here? + +_Jean_. + One, two, three, four-- +A devil's dozen of them at the least. + +_Katrina_. +Poor lads! They did not need to set them up +So high, surely. Which is the one you'ld call +Prettiest, Jean? + +_Jean_. + That fellow with the sneer; +The axe's weight could not ruffle his brow,-- +How signed it is with scorn! + +_Katrina_. + Ah yes, he's dark +And you are red: Mary and I will choose +Some golden fellow. Which do you think, Mary? + +_Jean_. +O, but mine is the one! Look--do you see?-- +He must have put his curls away from the axe; +Or did they part themselves when he knelt down, +And let the stroke have his nape white and bare? +O could a girl not nestle snug and happy +Against a neck, with such hair covering her! + +_Katrina_. +Now, Mary, we must make our yellow choice; +You've got good eyes; which do you fancy?--Jean! +What ails her? + +_Jean_. + How she stares! which is the one +She singles out? That topmost boy it is,-- +Pretty enough for a flaxen poll indeed. +Is that your lad, Mary? + +_Katrina_. + She's ill or fey; +They are too much for her; and I truly +Am nearly weeping for them and their wives and lasses. +Her eyes don't budge! She's fastened on his face +With just the look that one would have to greet +The ghost of one's own self. See, all her blood +Is trapt in her heart,--pale she is as he. + +_A Man in the Crowd_. +Can't you see she's fainting? 'Tis no sight +For halfling girls. + +_Jean_. + Halfling yourself. + +_Katrina_. + Mary! + +_Mary_. +Let us go home now: help me there, Katrina. + +_Katrina_. +Yes, dear, but are you ill? + +_Mary_. + No: let us go home. + +_Katrina (to Jean)_. +Come, Jean. Did you not hear her gasp? We must +Be with her on her way home. + +_Jean_. + You go then. +I've not lookt half enough at these. Besides-- + + [MARY _and_ KATRINA _go_. + +Well, sir, how dare you speak to girls like that, +When they're alone? + +_The Man_. + You needn't be so short; +I guess you're one to take fine care of yourself. + +_Jean_. +Yes, and I'ld choose a better-looking man +Than you, my chap, if I wanted company. + +_The Man_. +Come this way, you'll see better. + +_Jean_. + Impudence! +Who said your arm might be there? + +_The Man_. + O, it's all right. + +_Jean_. +And what do you think of the rebels now they're dead? + + +III + +_Mary lying awake in bed_. +O let me reason it out calmly! Have I +No stars to take me through this terror, poured +Suddenly, dreadfully, on to my heart and spirit? +Why is it I, of all the world I only +Who must so love against nature? I knew +Always, that not like harbour for a boat, +Not a smooth safety, Love would take my soul; +But like going naked and empty-handed +Into the glitter and hiss of a wild sword-play, +I should fall in love, and in fear and danger: +But a danger of white light, a fear of sharpness +Keen and close to my heart, not as it proves,-- +My heart hit by a great dull mace of terror! + + * * * * * + + So it has come to me, my hope, my wonder! +Now I perceive that I was one of those +Who, till love comes, have breath and beating blood +In one continual question. All the beauty +My happy senses took till now has been +Drugg'd with a fiery want and discontent, +That settled in my soul and lay there burning. +The hills, wearing their green ample dresses +Right in the sky's blue courts, with swerving folds +Along the rigour of their stony sinews-- +(Often they garr'd my breath catch and stumble),-- +The moon that through white ghost of water went, +Till she was ring'd about with an amber window,-- +The summer stars seen winking through dusk leaves; +All the earth's manners and most loveliness, +All made my asking spirit stir within me, +And throb with a question, whose answer is, +(As now I know, but then I did not know) +There is a Man somewhere meant for me.-- +And I have seen the face of him for whom +My soul was made! + Ah, somewhere? Where is that? +Have I not dreamt that he is gone away, +Gone ere he loved me? Now I lose myself. +I only have seen my boy's murder'd head. + + * * * * * + + Yes, again light breaks through and quells my thought. +The whole earth seemed as it belonged to me, +A message spoken out in green and blue +Specially to my heart; and it would say +That some time, out of the human multitude +A face would look into my soul, and sign +All my nature, easily as it were wax, +With its dear image; but after that impress +I would all harden, so that nought could raze +The minting of that seal from off my being. +And yesterday it fell. An idle whim +To see the rebels on the Scottish Gate,-- +And there was the face of him I was made to love, +There,--ah God,--on the gate, my murder'd lad! +Did any girl have first-sight love like this? +Not to have ever seen him, only seen +Such piteous token that he has been born, +Lived and grown up to beauty, the man who was meant +To sleep upon my breast, and dead before +The sweet custom of love could be between us! +To have but seen his face?--Is that enough +To make me clear he is my man indeed? +Why, sure there are tales bordering on my lot +In misery?--Of hearts who have been stabbed +By knowledge that their mates were in the earth, +Yet never could come near enough to be healed; +Of those who have gone longing all a life, +Because a voice heard singing or a gesture +Seen from afar gospell'd them of love; +And no more than the mere announcement had. +Ah, but all these to mine were kindly dealing; +For not till they'd trepann'd him out of life +Did he, poor laggard, come to claim my soul.-- +O my love, but your ears played you falsely +When they were taken by Death's wily tunes! + + * * * * * + + Am I so hardly done to, who have seen +My lover's face, been near enough to worship +The very writing of his spirit in flesh? +For having that in my ken, I am not far +From loving with my eyes all his body. +What a set would his shoulders have, and neck, +To bear his goodly-purposed head; what gait +And usage of his limbs!--Ah, do you smile? +Why, even so I knew your smile would be, +Just such an over-brimming of your soul. +O love, love, love, then you have come to me! +How I have stayed aching for you! Come close, +Here's where you should have been long time, long time. +It is your rightful place. And I had left +Thinking you'ld come and kiss me over my heart! +Ah lad, my lad, they told me you were dead. + + +IV + +_At Dawn. The Scottish Gate_. + +_Mary (on her way to the gate, singing to herself)_. + As a wind that has run all day + Among the fragrant clover, + At evening to a valley comes; + So comes to me my lover. + + And as all night a honey'd warmth + Stays where the wind did lie, + So when my lover leaves my arms + My heart's all honey. + + But what have I to do with this? And when +Was that song put in hiding 'mid my thought? +I might be on my way to meet and give +Good morrow to my--Ah! last night, last night! +O fie! I must not dream so. + + [_At the Gate_. + It _was_ I! +I am the girl whose lover they have killed, +Who never saw him until out of death +He lookt into my soul. I was to meet +Somewhere in life my lover, and behold, +He has turned into an inn I dare not enter, +And gazes through a window at my soul +Going on labour'd with this loving body.-- +Did I not sleep last night with you in my arms? +I could have sworn it. Why should body have +So large a part in love? For if 'twere only +Spirit knew how to love, an easy road +My feet had down to death. But I must want +Lips against mine, and arms marrying me, +And breast to kiss with its dear warmth my breast,-- +Body must love! O me, how it must ache +Before it is as numb as thine, dear boy! +Poor darling, didst thou forget that I was made +To wed thee, body and soul? For surely else +Thou hadst not gone from life.-- + Ah, folk already, +Coming to curse the light with all their stares. + + +V + +KATRINA _and_ JEAN. + +_Katrina_. +Where are you off to, Jean, in such a tear? + +_Jean_. +I'm busy. + +_Katrina_. + O you light-skirts! who is it now? +You think I can't guess what your business is? +Is it aught fresh, or only old stuff warmed? + +_Jean_. +Does not the smartness in your wits, Katrina, +Make your food smack sourly?--Well, this time, +It's serious with me. I believe I'm caught. + +_Katrina_. +O but you've had such practice in being caught, +You'll break away quite easily when you want. +Tell me now who it is. + +_Jean_. + The man who spoke +When we were at the Scottish Gate that day. +O, he's a dapper boy! Did you mark his eyes? + +_Katrina_. +Nay, I saw nought but he was under-grown. + +_Jean_. +Pooh! He can carry me. + +_Katrina_. + Jean, have you heard +Of Mary lately?--I vow she's in love. + +_Jean_. +Never! with whom? + +_Katrina_. + The thing's a wonder, Jean. +She'll speak to no one now, and every day, +Morning and evening, she's at the gate +Gazing like a fey creature on that head +She was so stricken to behold--you mind it?-- +I tell you she's in love with it. + +_Jean_. + O don't be silly. +How can you fall in love with a dead man? +And what good could he do you, if you did? +One loves for kisses and for hugs and the rest; +A spunky fellow,--that's the thing to love. +But a dead man,--pah, what a foolery! + +_Katrina_. +O yes, to you; for Love's a game for you. +'Twill turn out dangerous maybe, but still,--a game. + +_Jean_. +Yes, the best kind of game a girl can play, +And all the better for the risk, Katrina. +But where the fun would be in Love if he +You played with had not heart to jump, nor blood +To tingle, nothing in him to go wild +At seeing you betray your love for him, +Beats me to understand. You'ld be as wise +Blowing the bellows at a pile of stone +As loving one that never lived for you. +It isn't just to make a wind you blow, +But to turn red fire into white quivering heat. +Whatever she's after, 'tis not love, my girl: +I know what love is. But perhaps she saw +The poor lad living? Even had speech with him? + +_Katrina_. +Not she; Mary has never known a lad +I did not know as well. We've shared our lives +As if we had been sisters, and I'm sure +She's never been in love before. + +_Jean_. + Before? +Don't talk such sentimental nonsense-- + +_Katrina_. + Why, +If Love-at-first-sight can mean anything, +Surely 'tis this: there's some one in the world +Whom, if you come across him, you must love, +And you could no more pass his face unmoved +Than the year could go backwards. Well, suppose +He dies just ere you meet him; and he dead, +Ay, or his head alone, is given your eyes, +It is enough: he is the man for you, +All as if he were quick and signalling +His heart to you in smiles. + +_Jean_. + Believe me, dear, +You've no more notion of the thing called Love +Than a grig has of talking. But I have, +And I'm off now to practise with my notions. + +_Katrina_. +Now which is the real love,--hers or Mary's? + + +VI + +_Before Dawn, At the Scottish Gate_. + +_Mary_. +Beloved, beloved!--O forgive me +That all these days questioning I have been, +Struggled with doubts. Your power over me, +That here slipt through the nets death caught you in, +Lighted on me so greatly that my heart +Could scarcely carry the amazement. Now +I am awake and seeing; and I come +To save you from this post of ignominy. +A ladder I have filched and thro' the streets +Borne it, on shoulders little used to weight. +You'll say that I should not have bruised myself?-- +But it is good, and an ease for me, to have +Some ache of body.--Now if there's any chink +In death, surely my love will reach to thee, +Surely thou wilt be ware of how I go +Henceforth through life utterly thine. And yet +Pardon what now I say, for I must say it. +I cannot thank thee, my dear murder'd lad, +For mastering me so. What other girls +Might say in blessing on their sweethearts' heads, +How can I say? They are well done to, when +Love of a man their beings like a loom +Seizes, and the loose ends of purposes +Into one beautiful desire weaves. +But love has not so done to me: I was +A nature clean as water from the hills, +One that had pleased the lips of God; and now +Brackish I am, as if some vagrom malice +Had trampled up the springs and made them run +Channelling ancient secrecies of salt. + O me, what, has my tongue these bitter words +In front of my love's death? Look down, sweetheart, +From the height of thy sacred ignominy +And see my shame. Nay, I will come up to thee +And have my pardon from thy lips, and do +The only good I can to thee, sweetheart. + + * * * * * + + I have done it: but how have I done it? +And what's this horrible thing to do with me? +How came it on the ground, here at my feet? +O I had better have shirkt it altogether! +What do I love? Not this; this is only +A message that he left on earth for me, +Signed by his spirit, that he had to go +Upon affairs more worthy than my love. +We women must give place in our men's thoughts +To matters such as those. +God, God, why must I love him? Why +Must life be all one scope for the hawking wings +Of Love, that none the mischief can escape?-- +Well, I am thine for always now, my love, +For this has been our wedding. No one else, +Since thee I have had claspt unto my breast, +May touch me lovingly.-- + Light, it is light! +What shall I do with it, now I have got it? +O merciful God, must I handle it +Again? I dare not; what is it to me? +Let me off this! Who is it clutches me +By the neck behind? Who has hold of me +Forcing me stoop down? Love, is it thou? +Spare me this service, thou who hast all else +Of my maimed life: why wilt thou be cruel? +O grip me not so fiercely. Love! Ah no, +I will not: 'tis abominable-- + + + + +JEAN + + +I + +_The Parlour of a Public House. Two young men_, MORRIS +_and_ HAMISH. + +_Hamish_. +Come, why so moody, Morris? Either talk, +Or drink, at least. + +_Morris_. + I'm wondering about Love. + +_Hamish_. +Ho, are you there, my boy? Who may it be? + +_Morris_. +I'm not in love; but altogether posed +I am by lovers. + +_Hamish_. + They're a simple folk: +I'm one. + +_Morris_. + It's you I'm mainly thinking of. + +_Hamish_. +Why, that's an honour, surely. + +_Morris_. + Now if I loved +The girl you love, your Jean, (look where she goes +Waiting on drinkers, hearing their loose tongues; +And yet her clean thought takes no more of soil +Than white-hot steel laid among dust can take!)-- + +_Hamish_. +You not in love, and talking this fine stuff? + +_Morris_. +I say, if I loved Jean, I'ld do without +All these vile pleasures of the flesh, your mind +Seems running on for ever: I would think +A thought that was always tasting them would make +The fire a foul thing in me, as the flame +Of burning wood, which has a rare sweet smell, +Is turned to bitter stink when it scorches flesh. + +_Hamish_. +Why specially Jean? + +_Morris_. + Why Jean? The girl's all spirit! + +_Hamish_. +She's a lithe burd, it's true; that, I suppose, +Is why you think her made of spirit,--unless +You've seen her angry: she has a blazing temper.-- +But what's a girl's beauty meant for, but to rouse +Lust in a man? And where's the harm in that,-- +In loving her because she's beautiful, +And in the way that drives me?--I dare say +My spirit loves her too. But if it does +I don't know what it loves. + +_Morris_. + Why, man, her beauty +Is but the visible manners of her spirit; +And this you go to love by the filthy road +Which all the paws and hoofs in the world tread too! +God! And it's Jean whose lover runs with the herd +Of grunting, howling, barking lovers,--Jean!-- + +_Hamish_. +O spirit, spirit, spirit! What is spirit? +I know I've got a body, and it loves: +But who can tell me what my spirit's doing, +Or even if I have one? + +_Morris_. + Well, it's strange, +My God, it's strange. A girl goes through the world +Like a white sail over the sea, a being +Woven so fine and lissom that her life +Is but the urging spirit on its journey, +And held by her in shape and attitude. +And all she's here for is that you may clutch +Her spirit in the love of a mating beast! + +_Hamish_. +Why, she has fifty lovers if she has one, +And fifty's few for her. + +_Morris_. + I'm going out. +If the night does me good, I'll come back here +Maybe, and walk home with you. + +_Hamish_. + O don't bother. +If I want spirit, it will be for drinking. + [MORRIS _goes out_. +Spirit or no, drinking's better than talking. +Who was the sickly fellow to invent +That crazy notion spirit, now, I wonder? +But who'd have thought a burly lout like Morris +Would join the brabble? Sure he'll have in him +A pint more blood than I have; and he's all +For loving girls with words, three yards away! + +JEAN _comes in_. + +_Jean_. +Alone, my boy? Who was your handsome friend? + +_Hamish_. +Whoever he was he's gone. But I'm still here. + +_Jean_. +O yes, you're here; you're always here. + +_Hamish_. + Of course, +And you know why. + +_Jean_. + Do I? I've forgotten. + +_Hamish_. +Jean, how can you say that? O how can you? + +_Jean_. +Now don't begin to pity yourself, please. + +_Hamish_. +Ah, I am learning now; it's truth they talk. +You would undo the skill of a spider's web +And take the inches of it in one line, +More easily than know a woman's thought. +I'm ugly on a sudden? + +_Jean_. + The queer thing +About you men is that you will have women +Love in the way you do. But now learn this; +We don't love fellows for their skins; we want +Something to wonder at in the way they love. +A chap may be as rough as brick, if you like, +Yes, or a mannikin and grow a tail,-- +If he's the spunk in him to love a girl +Mainly and heartily, he's the man for her.-- +My soul, I've done with all you pretty men; +I want to stand in a thing as big as a wind; +And I can only get your paper fans! + +_Hamish_. +You've done with me? You wicked Jean! You'll dare +To throw me off like this? After you've made, +O, made my whole heart love you? + +_Jean_. + You are no good. +Your friend, now, seems a likely man; but you?-- +I thought you were a torch; and you're a squib. + +_Hamish_. +Not love you enough? Death, I'll show you then. + +_Jean_. +Hands off, Hamish. There's smoke in you, I know, +And splutter too. Hands off, I say. + +_Hamish_. + By God +Tell me to-morrow there's no force in me! + +_Jean_. +Leave go, you little beast, you're hurting me: +I never thought you'ld be so strong as this. +Let go, or I'll bite; I mean it. You young fool, +I'm not for you. Take off your hands. O help! + [MORRIS _has come in unseen and rushes forward_. + +_Morris_. +You beast! You filthy villainous fellow!--Now, +I hope I've hurt the hellish brain in you. +Take yourself off. You'll need a nurse to-night. + [HAMISH _slinks out_. +Poor girl! And are you sprained at all? That ruffian! + +_Jean_. +O sir, how can I thank you? You don't know +What we poor serving girls must put up with. +We don't hear many voices like yours, sir. +They think, because we serve, we've no more right +To feelings than their cattle. O forgive me +Talking to you. You don't come often here. + +_Morris_. +No, but I will: after to-night I'll see +You take no harm. And as for him, I'll smash him. + +_Jean_. +Yes, break the devil's ribs,--I mean,--O leave me; +I'm all distraught. + +_Morris_. + Good night, Jean. My name's Morris. + +_Jean_. +Good night, Morris--dear. O I must thank you. + [_She suddenly kisses him_. +Perhaps,--perhaps, you'll think that wicked of me? + +_Morris_. +You wicked? O how silly!--But--good night. + [_He goes_. + +_Jean_. +The man, the man! What luck! My soul, what luck! + + +II + +JEAN _by herself, undressing_. +Yes, he's the man. Jean, my girl, you're done for, +At last you're done for, the good God be thankt.-- +That was a wonderful look he had in his eyes: +'Tis a heart, I believe, that will burn marvellously! +Now what a thing it is to be a girl! +Who'ld be a man? Who'ld be fuel for fire +And not the quickening touch that sets it flaming?-- +'Tis true that when we've set him well alight +(As I, please God, have set this Morris burning) +We must be serving him like something worshipt; +But is it to a man we kneel? No, no; +But to our own work, to the blaze we kindled! +O, he caught bravely. Now there's nothing at all +So rare, such a wild adventure of glee, +As watching love for you in a man beginning;-- +To see the sight of you pour into his senses +Like brandy gulpt down by a frozen man, +A thing that runs scalding about his blood; +To see him holding himself firm against +The sudden strength of wildness beating in him! +O what my life is waiting for, at last +Is started, I believe: I've turned a man +To a power not to be reckoned; I shall be +Held by his love like a light thing in a river! + + +III + +MORRIS _by himself_. +It is a wonder! Here's this poor thing, Life, +Troubled with labours of the endless war +The lusty flesh keeps up against the spirit; +And down amid the anger--who knows whence?-- +Comes Love, and at once the struggling mutiny +Falls quiet, unendurably rebuked: +And the whole strength of life is free to serve +Spirit, under the regency of Love. +The quiet that is in me! The bright peace! +Instead of smoke and dust, the peace of Love! +Truly I knew not what a turmoil life +Has been, and how rebellious, till this peace +Came shining down! And yet I have seen things, +And heard things, that were strangely meaning this,-- +Telling me strangely that life can be all +One power undisturbed, one perfect honour,-- +Waters at noonday sounding among hills, +Or moonlight lost among vast curds of cloud;-- +But never knew I it is only Love +Can rule the noise of life to heavenly quiet. +Ah, Jean, if thou wilt love me, thou shalt have +Never from me upon thy purity +The least touch of that eager baseness, known, +For shame's disguising, by the name of Love +Most wickedly; thou shalt not need to fear +Aught from my love, for surely thou shalt know +It is a love that almost fears to love thee. + + +IV + +_The Public House_. MORRIS _and_ JEAN. + +_Jean_. +O, you are come again! + +_Morris_. + Has he been here, +That blackguard, with some insolence to you? + +_Jean_. +Who? + +_Morris_. + Why, that Hamish. + +_Jean_. + Hamish? No, not he. + +_Morris_. +I thought--you seemed so breathless-- + +_Jean_. + But you've come +Again! May I not be glad of your coming? +Yes, and a little breathless?--Did you come +Only because you thought I might be bullied? + +_Morris_. +O, no, no, no, Only for you I came. + +_Jean_. +And that's what I was hoping. + +_Morris_. + If you could know +How it has been with me, since I saw you! + +_Jean_. + + What can I know of your mind?--For my own +Is hard enough to know,--save that I'm glad +You've come again,--and that I should have cried +If you'd not kept your word. + +_Morris_. + My word?--to see +Hamish does nothing to you? + +_Jean_. + The fiend take Hamish! +Do you think I'ld be afraid of him?--It's you +I ought to be afraid of, were I wise. + +_Morris_. +Good God, she's crying! + +_Jean_. + Cannot you understand? + +_Morris_. +O darling, is it so? I prayed for this +All night, and yet it's unbelievable. + +_Jean_. +You too, Morris? + +_Morris_. + There's nothing living in me +But love for you, my sweetheart. + +_Jean_. + And you are mine, +My sweetheart!--And now, Morris, now you know +Why you are the man that ought to frighten me!-- +Morris, I love you so! + +_Morris_. + O, but better than this, +Jean, you must love me. You must never think +I'm like the heartless men you wait on here, +Whose love is all a hunger that cares naught +How hatefully endured its feasting must be +By her who fills it, so it be well glutted! + +_Jean_. +I did not say I was afraid of you; +But only that, perhaps, I ought to be. + +_Morris_. +No, no, you never ought. My love is one +That will not have its passion venturous; +It knows itself too fine a ceremony +To risk its whole perfection even by one +Unruly thought of the luxury in love. +Nay, rather it is the quietness of power, +That knows there is no turbulence in life +Dare the least questioning hindrance set against +The onward of its going,--therefore quiet, +All gentle. But strong, Jean, wondrously strong! + +_Jean_. +Yes, love is strong. I have well thought of that. +It drops as fiercely down on us as if +We were to be its prey. I've seen a gull +That hovered with beak pointing and eyes fixt +Where, underneath its swaying flight, some fish +Was trifling, fooling in the waves: then, souse! +And the gull has fed. And love on us has fed. + +_Morris_. +Indeed 'tis a sudden coming; but I grieve +To hear you make of love a cruelty. +Sweetheart, it shall be nothing cruel to you! +You shall not fear, in doing what love bids, +Ever to know yourself unmaidenly. +For see! here's my first kiss; and all my love +Is signed in it; and it is on your hand.-- +Is that a thing to fear?--But it were best +I go now. This should be a privacy, +Not even your lover near, this hour of first +Strange knowledge that you have accepted love. +I think you would feel me prying, if I stayed +While your heart falters into full perceiving +That you are plighted now forever mine. +God bless you, Jean, my sweetheart.--Not a word? +But you will thank me soon for leaving you: +'Tis the best courtesy I can do. + [_He goes_. + +_Jean_. +O, and I thought it was my love at last! +I thought, from the look he had last night, I'd found +That great, brave, irresistible love!--But this! +It's like a man deformed, with half his limbs. +Am I never to have the love I dream and need, +Pouring over me, into me, winds of fire? + + HAMISH _comes in_. + +_Hamish_. +Well? What's the mood to-night?--The girl's been crying! +This should be something queer. + +_Jean_. + It's you are to blame: +You brought him here! + +_Hamish_. + It's Morris this time, is it? +And what has he done? + +_Jean_. + He's insulted me. +And you must never let me see him again. + +_Hamish_. +Sure I don't want him seeing you. But still, +If I'm to keep you safe from meeting him-- + +_Jean_. +To look in his eyes would mortify my heart! + +_Hamish_. +Then you'ld do right to pay me. + +_Jean_. + What you please. + +_Hamish_. +A kiss? + +_Jean_. + Of course; as many as you like-- +And of any sort you like. + + + + +KATRINA + + +I + +_On the sea-coast. Three young men_, SYLVAN, VALENTINE, +_and_ FRANCIS. + +_Valentine_. +Well, I suppose you're out of your fear at last, +Sylvan. This land's empty enough; naught here +Feminine but the hens, bitches, and cows. +Now we are safe! + +_Francis_. + Horribly safe; for here, +If there are wives at all, they are salted so +They have no meaning for the blood, bent things +Philosophy allows not to be women. + +_Valentine_. +But think of the husbands that must spend their nights +Alongside skin like bark. It is the men +That have the tragedy in these weather'd lands. + +_Francis_. +No thought of that! We are monks now. And, indeed, +This is a cloister that a man could like, +This blue-aired space of grassy land, that here, +Just as it touches the sea's bitter mood, +Is troubled into dunes, as it were thrilled, +Like a calm woman trembling against love. + +_Sylvan_. +Woman again!--How, knowing you, I failed +So long to know the truth, I cannot think. + +_Francis_. +And what's the truth? + +_Sylvan_. + Woman and love of her +Is as a dragging ivy on the growth +Of that strong tree, man's nature! + +_Valentine_. + Yes. But now +Tell us a simpler sort of truth. Was she--- + +_Sylvan_. +She? Who? + +_Valentine_. + Katrina, of course: who else, when one +Speaks of a she to you? + +_Sylvan_. + And what about her? + +_Valentine_. +Was she too cruel to you, or too kind? + +_Sylvan_. +Ah, there's no hope for men like you; you're sunk +Above your consciences in smothering ponds +Of sweet imagination,--drowned in woman! + +_Francis_. +Ay? Clarence and the Malmesey over again; +'Twas a delightful death. + +_Valentine_. + But you forget. +Sylvan, we've come as your disciples here. + +_Sylvan_. +Yes, to a land where not the least desire +Need prey upon your mettle. There are hours +A god might gladly take in these basking dunes,-- +Nothing but summer and piping larks, and air +All a warm breath of honey, and a grass +All flowers--sweet thyme and golden heart's-ease here! +And under scent and song of flowers and birds, +Far inland out of the golden bays the air +Is charged with briny savour, and whispered news +Gentle as whitening oats the breezes stroke. +What good is all this health to you? You bring +Your own thoughts with you; and they are vinegar, +Endlessly rusting what should be clear steel. + +_Francis_. +I do begin to doubt our enterprise, +The grand Escape from Woman. It lookt brave +And nobly hazardous afar off, to cease +All wenching, whether in deed or word or thought. +And yet I fear pride egged us. We had done +Better to be more humble, and bring here +A girl apiece. + +_Valentine_. + Yes, Sylvan; you must think +The cloister were a thing more comfortable +With your Katrina in it? + +_Sylvan_. + My Katrina! +And do you think, supposing I would love, +I'ld bank in such a crazy safe as that +Katrina? One of those soft shy-spoken maids, +Who are only maids through fear? Whose life is all +A simpering pretence of modesty? +If it was love I wanted, 'twould not be +A dish of sweet stewed pears, laced with brandy. +But I can do without a woman's kisses. + +_Valentine_. +Can you?--You know full well, in the truth of your heart, +That there's no man in all the world of men +Whose will woman's beauty cannot divide +Easily as a sword cuts jetting water. + +_Sylvan_. +Have you not heard, that even jetting water +May have such spouting force, that it becomes +A rod of glittering white iron, and swords +Will beat rebounding on its speed in vain?-- +Of such a force I mean to have my will. + +[_He sits and stares moodily out to sea. His companions +whisper each other_. + +_Valentine_. +Here, Francis! Look you yonder. O but this, +This is the joke of the world! + +_Francis_. + Hallo! a girl! +And, by the Lord, Katrina!--But why here? + +_Valentine_. +She's followed him, of course; she's heard of this +Mad escapade and followed after him. + +_Francis_. +She has not seen us yet. Now what to do? + +_Valentine_. +Quick! Where's your handkerchief? Truss his wrists and ankles, +And pull his coat up over his head and leave him! +He won't get free of her again; she'll lead +His wildness home and keep him tame for ever. +Now! + + [_They fall on him, bind him, and blindfold him_. + +_Sylvan_. +What are you doing? Whatever are you doing? +Hell burn you, let me go! + +_Valentine_. + There's worse to come. + + [_They make off, and leave_ SYLVAN _shouting_. + KATRINA _runs in_. + +_Katrina_. +Dear Heaven! Were they robbers? Have they hurt you? + + [_She releases him. He stands up_. + +_Sylvan_. +Katrina! + +_Katrina_. + Sylvan! + +_Sylvan_. + How did you plot this? +I thought I'd put leagues between you and me. + +_Katrina_. +Why have you come here? + +_Sylvan_. + To find you, it seems. +But what you're doing here, that I'ld like to know. + +_Katrina_. +I came to see my grandmother: she lives +All by herself, poor grannam, and it's time +She had some help about the house, and care. + +_Sylvan_. +Let's have a better tale. You followed me. + +_Katrina_. +Sylvan, how dare you make me out so vile? + +_Sylvan_. +How dare you mean to make this body of mine +A thing with no thought in it but your beauty? + +_Katrina_. +You shall not speak so wickedly. You've had +The half of my truth only: here's the whole. +It was from you I fled! I hoped to make +My grannam's lonely cottage something safe +From you and what I hated in you. + +_Sylvan_. + Love?-- +Ah, so it's all useless. + +_Katrina_. + I feared to know +You wanted me,--horribly I feared it. +And now you've found me out. + +_Sylvan_. + Is this the truth?-- +No help for it, then. + +_Katrina_. + O, I'm a liar to you! + +_Sylvan_. +Strange how we grudge to be ruled! rather than be +Divinely driven to happiness, we push back +And fiercely try for wilful misery.-- +Dearest, forgive me being cruel to you, +You who are in life like a heavenly dream +In the evil sleep of a sinner. + +_Katrina_. + No, you hate me. + +_Sylvan (kissing her)_. +Is this like hatred? + +_Katrina (in his arms)_. + Sylvan, I have been +So wrencht and fearfully used. It was as if +This being that I live in had become +A savage endless water, wild with purpose +To tire me out and drown me. + +_Sylvan_. + Yes, I know: +Like swimming against a mighty will, that wears +The cruelty, the race and scolding spray +Of monstrous passionate water. + +_Katrina_. + Hold me, Sylvan +I'm bruised with my sore wrestling. + +_Sylvan_. + Ah, but now +We are not swimmers in this dangerous life. +It cannot beat upon our limbs with surf +Of water clencht against us, nor can waves +Now wrangle with our breath. Out of it we +Are lifted; and henceforward now we are +Sailors travelling in a lovely ship, +The shining sails of it holding a wind +Immortally pleasant, and the malicious sea +Smoothed by a keel that cannot come to wreck. + +_Katrina_. +Alas, we must not stay together here. +Grannam will come upon us. + +_Sylvan_. + Where is she? + +_Katrina_. +Yonder, gathering driftwood for her fire. +There is a little bay not far from here, +The shingle of it a thronging city of flies, +Feeding on the dead weed that mounds the beach; +And the sea hoards there its vain avarice,-- +Old flotsam, and decaying trash of ships. +An arm of reef half locks it in, and holds +The bottom of the bay deep strewn with seaweed, +A barn full of the harvesting of storms; +And at full tide, the little hampered waves +Lift up the litter, so that, against the light, +The yellow kelp and bracken of the sea, +Held up in ridges of green water, show +Like moss in agates. And there is no place +In all the coast for wreckage like this bay; +There often will my grannam be, a sack +Over her shoulders, turning up the crust +Of sun-dried weed to find her winter's warmth. + +_Sylvan_. +Is that she coming? + +_Katrina_. + O Sylvan, has she seen us? + +_Sylvan_. +What matter if she has? + +_Katrina_. + But it would matter! + +_Sylvan_. +Katrina, come with me now! We'll go together +Back to my house. + +_Katrina_. + No, no, not now! I must +Carry my grannam's load for her: 'tis heavy. + +_Sylvan_. +We must not part again. + +_Katrina_. + No, not for long; +For if we do, there will be storms again, +I know; and a fierce reluctance--O, a mad +Tormenting thing!--will shake me. + +_Sylvan_. + Then come now! + +_Katrina_. +Not now, not now! Look how my poor grannam +Shuffles under the weight; she's old for burdens. +I must carry her sack for her. + +_Sylvan_. + Well, to-night! + +_Katrina_. +To-night?--O Sylvan! dare I? + +_Sylvan_. + Yes, you dare! +You will be knowing I'm outside in the darkness, +And you will come down here and give me yourself +Wholly and forever. + +_Katrina_. + O not to-night! + +_Sylvan_. +I shall be here, Katrina, waiting for you. + [_He goes_. + +_The old woman comes in burdened with her sack_. + +_Grandmother_. +Katrina, that was a young man with you. + +_Katrina_. +O grannam, you've had luck to-day; but now +It's I must be the porter. + +_Grandmother (giving up the sack)_. + Ay, you take it. +It's sore upon my back. You should have care +Of these young fellows; there's a devil in them. +Never you talk with a man on the seashore +Or on hill-tops or in woods and suchlike places, +Especially if he's one you think of marrying. + +_Katrina_. +Marrying? I shall never be married! + +_Grandmother_. + Pooh! +That's nonsense. + +_Katrina_. + I should think 'twas horrible +Even to be in love and wanting to give +Yourself to another; but to be married too, +A man holding the very heart of you,-- + +_Grandmother_. +He never does, honey, he never does.-- +We're late; come along home. + +II + +_In_ SYLVAN'S _house_. SYLVAN _and_ KATRINA _talking to +each other and betweenwhiles thinking to themselves_. + +_Sylvan_. +How pleasant and beautiful it is to be +At last obedient to love! (_To know +Also, I've sold myself,--is that so pleasant_?) + +_Katrina_. +I cannot think, why such a glorious wealth +As this of love on our hearts should be spent. +What have we done, that all this gain be ours? +(_Nor can I think why my life should be mixt, +Even its dearest secrecy, with another_.) + +_Sylvan_. +Ay, there's the marvel! If to enter life +Needed some courage, 'twere a kind of wages, +As they let sacking soldiers take home loot: +But we are shuffled into life like puppets +Emptied out of a showman's bag; and then +Made spenders of the joys current in heaven! +(_Not such a marvel neither, if this love +Be but the price I'm paid for my free soul. +Who's the old trader that has lent this girl +The glittering cash of pleasure to pay me with? +Who is it,--the world, or the devil, or God--that wants +To buy me from myself?_) + +_Katrina_. + And then how vain +To think we can hold back from being enricht! +It is not only offered-- + +_Sylvan_. + No, 'tis a need +As irresistible within our hearts +As body's need of breathing. (_That I should be +So avaricious of his gleaming price!_) + +_Katrina_. +And the instant force it has upon us, when +We think to use love as a privilege! +We are like bees that, having fed all day +On mountain-heather, go to a tumbling stream +To please their little honey-heated thirsts; +And soon as they have toucht the singing relief, +The swiftness of the water seizes them. + +_Sylvan_. +And onward, sprawling and spinning, they are carried +Down to a drowning pool. + +_Katrina_. + O Sylvan, drowning? +(_Deeper than drowning! Why should it not be +Our hearts need wish only what they delight in_?) + +_Sylvan_. +Well, altogether gript by the being of love. +(_Yes, now the bargain's done; and I may wear, +Like a cheated savage, scarlet dyes and strings +Of beaded glass, all the pleasure of love_!) + +_Katrina_. +It is a wonderful tyranny, that life +Has no choice but to be delighted love! +(_I know what I must do: I am to abase +My heart utterly, and have nothing in me +That dare take pleasure beyond serving love. +Thus only shall I bear it; and perhaps-- +Might I even of my abasement make +A passion, fearfully enjoying it_?) + +_Sylvan_. +You are full of thoughts, sweetheart? + +_Katrina_. + And so are you: +A long while since you kist me! (_What have I said? +O fool so to remind him! I shall scarce +Help crying out or shuddering this time!-- +Ah no; I am again a fool! Not thus +I am to do, but in my heart to break +All the reluctance; it must have on me +No pleasure; else I am endlessly tortured_.) +Then I must kiss you, Sylvan! + + [_She kisses him_. + +_Sylvan_. + Ah, my darling! +(_God! it went through my flesh as thrilling sound +Must shake a fiddle when the strings are snatcht! +Will she make the life in me all a slave +Of my kist body,--a trembling, eager slave? +It ran like a terror to my heart, the sense, +The shivering delight upon my skin, +Of her lips touching me_.) My beloved,-- +It may be it were wise, that we took care +Our pleasant love come never in the risk +Of being too much known. + +_Katrina_. + O what a risk +To think of here! Love is not common life, +But always fresh and sweet. Can this grow stale? + + [_She kisses him again_. + +_Sylvan_. +O never! I meant not so.--Yes, always sweet! +(_She must not kiss me! Ah, it leaves my heart +Aghast, and stopt with pain of the joy of her; +And her loved body is like an agony +Clinging upon me. O she must not kiss me! +I will not be a thing excruciated +To please her passion, an anguish of delight!_) + + + + +PART III + +VIRGINITY AND PERFECTION + + + + +JUDITH + + +I + +THE BESIEGED CITY OF BETHULIA + +JUDITH (_at the window of an upper room of her house_). + +This pitiable city!--But, O God, +Strengthen me that I bend not into scorn +Of all this desperate folk; for I am weak +With pitying their lamentable souls. +Ah, when I hear the grief wail'd in the streets, +And the same breath their tears nigh strangle, used +To brag the God in them inviolate +And fighting off the hands of the heathen,--Lord, +Pardon me that I come so near to scorn; +Pardon me, soul of mine, that I have loosed +The rigour of my mind and leant towards scorn!-- + Friends, wives and husbands, sons and daughters, dead +Of plague, famine, and arrows: and the houses +Battered unsafe by cannonades of stone +Hurled in by the Assyrians: the town-walls +Crumbling out of their masonry into mounds +Of foolish earth, so smitten by the rams: +The hunger-pangs, the thirst like swallowed lime +Forcing them gulp green water maggot-quick +That lurks in corners of dried cisterns: yea, +Murders done for a drink of blood, and flesh +Sodden of infants: and no hope alive +Of rescue from this heat of prisoning anguish +Until Assyrian swords drown it in death;-- +These, and abandoned words like these, I hear +Daylong shrill'd and groan'd in the lanes beneath. +What needeth Holofernes more? The Jews, +The People of God, the Jews, lament their fortune; +Their souls are violated by the world; +Jewry is conquered; and the crop of men +Sown for the barns of God, is withered down, +Like feeblest grass flat-trodden by the sun, +In one short season of fear. Yea, swords and fire +Can do no more destruction on this folk: +A fierce untimely mowing now befits +This corn incapable of sacred bread, +This field unprofitable but to flame! + What should the choice of God do for a people, +But give them souls of temper to withstand +The trying of the furnace of the world?-- +And they are molten, and from God's device +Unfashion'd, crazed in dismay; yea, God's skill +Fails in them, as the skill a founder put +In brass fails when the coals seize on his work. +For this fierce Holofernes and his power, +This torture poured on the city, is no more +Than a wild gust of wicked heat breathed out +Against our God-wrought souls by the world's furnace. +No new thing, this camp about the city: +Nebuchadnezzar and his hosted men +But fearfully image, like a madman's dream, +The fierce infection of the world, that waits +To soil the clean health of the soul and mix +Stooping decay into its upward nature. +Soul in the world is all besieged: for first +The dangerous body doth desire it; +And many subtle captains of the mind +Secretly wish against its fortune; next, +Circle on circle of lascivious world +Lust round the foreign purity of soul +For chance or violence to ravish it. + But the pure in the world are mastery. +Divinely do I know, when life is clean, +How like a noble shape of golden glass +The passions of the body, powers of the mind, +Chalice the sweet immortal wine of soul, +That, as a purple fragrance dwells in air +From vintage poured, fills the corrupting world +With its own savour. And here I am alone +Sound in my sweetness, incorrupt; the rest +(They noise it unashamed) are stuff gone sour; +The world has meddled with them. They have broacht +The wine that had pleas'd God to flocking thirst +Of flies and wasps, to fears and worldly sorrows. +Nay, they are poured out into the dung of the world, +And drench, pollute, the fortune of their state, +When they should have no fortune but themselves +And the God in them, and be sealed therein. + Ah, my sweet soul, that knoweth its own sweetness, +Where only love may drink, and only--alas!-- +The ghost of love. But I am sweet for him, +For him and God, and for my sacred self! + But hark, a troop of new woe comes this way, +Making the street to ring and the stones wet +With cried despair and brackish agony. + +CITIZENS _lamenting in the street below_. +They have crawled back like beasts dying of thirst, +The life all clotted in them. They went out +Soldiers, and back like beaten dogs they came +Breathing in whines, slow maimed four-footed things +On hands and knees degraded, groaning steps. +Their brains were full of battle, they were made +Of virtue, brave men; now in their brains shudder +Minds that cringe like children burnt with fever. +Often they stood to face the enemies' ranks +All upright as a flame in windless air, +Wearing their arm and the bright skill of swords +Like spirits clad in flashing fire of heaven; +And now in darken'd rooms they lie afraid +And whimper if the nurse moves suddenly.-- +Ah God, that such an irresistible fiend, +Pain, in the beautiful housing of man's flesh +Should sleep, light as a leopard in its hunger, +Beside the heavenly soul; and at a wound +Leap up to mangle her, the senses' guest!-- +That in God's country heathen men should do +This worse than murder on men full of God! + +_Judith_. +What matter of new wailing do your tongues +Wear in this shivering misery of sound? + +_A Citizen_. +The captains which were chosen to go out +And treat with Holofernes have come back. + +_Judith_. +And did the Ninevite demon treat with them? + +_A Citizen_. +The words they had from him were flaying knives, +And burning splinters fixt in their skinless flesh, +And stones thrown till their breasts were broken in. + +_Judith_. +What, torture our embassage? + +_A Citizen_. + Yea, for he means +Nothing but death to all the Jews he takes. + +_Another_. +There was a jeering word tied round the neck +Of each tormented man: "Behold, ye Jews, +These chiefs of yours have learnt to crawl in prayer +Before the god Nebuchadnezzar; come, +Leave your city of thirst and your weak god, +And learn good worship even as these have learnt." + +_Another_. +I saw them coming in: O horrible! +With broken limbs creeping along the ground-- + +_Judith_. +Were I a man among you, I would not stay +Behind the walls to weep this insolence; +I'ld take a sword in my hand and God in my mind, +And seek under the friendship of the night +That tent where Holofernes' crimes and hate +Sleep in his devilish brain. + +_A Citizen_. + There is no night +Where Holofernes sleeps, as thou couldst tell. +Didst thou not shut thyself up in thine ease +Away from the noise and tears of common woe. +Come to the walls this evening, and I'll show thee +The golden place of light, the little world +Of triumphing glory framed in midst of the dark, +Pillar'd on four great bonfires fed with spice, +Enclosing in a globe of flame the tent +Wherein the sleepless lusts of Holofernes +Madden themselves all night, a revel-rout +Of naked girls luring him as he lies +Filling his blood with wine, the scented air +Injur'd marvellously with piping shrills +Of lechery made music, and small drums +That with a dancing throb drive his swell'd heart +Into desires beyond the strength of man. + +_Judith_. +And this beast is thine enemy, God! + +_Another Citizen_. + Nor beast, +Nor man, but one of those lascivious gods +Our lonely God detests, Chemosh or Baal +Or Peor who goes whoring among women. + +_Another_. +And now come down braving in God's own land, +Pitching the glory of his fearful heaven +All night among God's hills. + +_Judith_. + You fools, he is +A life our God could snap as a woman snaps +Thread of her sewing. + +_A Citizen_. + Who shall break him off, +Who on the earth, from his huge twisted power? + +_Another_. +For in his brain, as in a burning-glass +Wide glow of sun drawn to a pin of fire, +Are gathered into incredible fierceness all +The rays of the dark heat of heathen strength. + +_Another_. +His eyes, they say, can kill a man. + +_Another_. + And sure +No murder could approach his naming nights. + +_Another_. +Unless it came as a woman at whose beauty +His lust hath never sipt; for into his flesh +To drink unknown desirable limbs as wine +Torments him still, like a thirst when fever pours +A man's life out in drenching sweats. + +_Judith_. + Peace, peace; +The siege hath given you shameless tongues, and minds +No more your own: yea, the foul Ninevite +Hath mastered you already, for your thoughts +Dwell in his wickedness and marvel at it. +Hate not a thing too much, lest you be drawn +Wry from yourselves and close to the thing ye hate. + +_A Citizen_. +We know thy wisdom, Judith; but our lives +Belong to death; and wisdom to a man +Dying, is water in a broken jar. + +_Judith_. +Yea, if thou wilt die of a parching mouth. + +_A Citizen_. +Thou art rich, and thou hast much cool store of wine. +But the town thirsts, and every beat of our blood +Hastens us on to maniac agony. +The Assyrians have our wells, and half the tanks +Are dry, and the pools shoal with baking mud: +The water left to us is pestilent. +And therefore have we asked the governors +For death: and it is granted us. + +_Another_. + Five days +Hath Prince Ozias bidden us endure. + +_Another_. +For there are still fools among us who dare trust +God has not made a bargain of our lives. + +_Another_. +We are a small people, and our war is weak: +Who knows whether our God doth not desire +Armies and great plains full of spears and horses, +And cities made of bronze and hewn white stone +And scarlet awnings, throng'd with sworded men, +To shout his name up from the earth and kill +All crying at the gates of other heavens; +And hath grown tired of peaceable praise and folk +That in a warren of dry mountains dwell, +Whose few throats can make little noise in heaven. + +_A Young Man_. +For sure God's love hath wandered to strange nations; +His pleasure in the breasts of Jerusalem +Is a delight grown old. Yea, he would change +That shepherd-woman of the earthly cities, +Whose mind is as the clear light of her hills, +Full of the sound of a hundred waters falling; +And poureth his desire out, belike, +Upon that queen the wealth of the world hath clad, +Babylon, for whose golden bed the gods +Wrangle like young men with great gifts and boasts; +Whose mind is as a carbuncle of fire, +Full of the sound of amazing flames of music. + +_Another_. +Yea, what can Israel offer against her, +Whom the rich earth out of her mines hath shod, +And crowned with emeralds grown in secret rocks, +Who on her shoulders wears the gleam of the sea's +Purple and pearls, and the flax of Indian ground +Is linen on her limbs cool as moonlight, +And fells of golden beasts cover her throne; +Whose passion moves in her thought as in the air +Melody moves of flutes and silver horns: +What can Jerusalem the hill-city +Offer to keep God's love from Babylon? + +_Judith_. +What but the beauty of holiness, and sound +Of music made by hearts adoring God? +You that speak lewdly of God, you yet shall see +Jerusalem treading upon her foes. +But what was that of five days one of you spoke? + +_A Citizen_. +Ozias sware an oath: hast thou not heard? + +_Judith_. +No, for I keep my mind away from your tongues +Wisely. Who walks in wind-blown dust of streets, +That hath a garden where the roses breathe? + +_A Citizen_. +I have no garden where the roses breathe; +I have a city full of women crying +And babies starving and men weak with thirst +Who fight each other for a dole of water. + +_Another_. +Not only thou hast pleasant garden-hours, +Judith, here in Bethulia; the Lord Death +Has bought the city for his garden-close, +And saunters in it watching the souls bloom +Out of their buds of flesh, and with delight +Smelling their agony. + +_Another_. + But in five days +Either our God will turn his mind to us, +Or, if he careth not for us nor his honour, +Ozias will let open the main gate +And let the Assyrians end our dreadful lives. + +_Judith_. +O I belong to a nation utterly lost! +God! thou hast no tribe on the earth; thy folk +Are helpless in the living places like +The ghosts that grieve in the winds under the earth. +Remember now thy glory among the living, +And let the beauty of thy renown endure +In a firm people knitted like the stone +Of hills, no mischief harms of frost or fire; +But now dust in a gale of fear they are. +They have blasphemed thee; but forgive them, God; +And let my life inhabit to its end +The spirit of a people built to God.-- +So you have given God five days to come +And help you? You would make your souls as wares +Merchants hold up to bidders, and say, "God, +Pay us our price of comfort, or we sell +To death for the same coin"? Five days God hath +To find the cost of Jewry, or death buys you? + +_A Citizen_. +Here comes Ozias: ask him. + +_Judith_. + Hold him there. + + [JUDITH _comes down into the street_. + +_Ozias_. +Judith, I came to speak with thee. + +_Judith_. + And I +Would speak with thee. What tale is this they tell +That thou hast sworn to give this people death? + +_Ozias_. +In five days those among us who still live +Will have no souls but the fierce anguish of thirst. +If God ere then relieves us, well. If not, +We give ourselves away from God to death. + +_Judith_. +Darest thou do this wickedness, and set +Conditions to the mercy of our God? + +_Ozias_. +Death hath a mercy equal unto God's.-- +Look at the air above thee; is there sign +Of mercy in that naked splendour of fire? +Too Godlike! We are his: he covers us +With golden flame of air and firmament +Of white-hot gold, marvellous to see. +But whom, what heathen land hated of God, +Do his grey clouds shadow with comfort of rain? +Over our chosen heads his glory glows: +And in five days the torment in his city +Will be beyond imagining. We will go +Through swords into the quiet and cloud of death. + +_Judith_. +Ozias, wilt thou be an infamy? +Bethulia fallen, all Judea lies +Open to the feet and hoofs of Assyria. + +_Ozias_. +Yea, and what doth Judea but cower down +Behind us? There's no rescue comes from there. +We are alone with Holofernes' power. + +_Judith_. +But if we hold him off, will he not grant +The meed of a brave fight, captivity?-- +Or we may treat with him, make terms for yielding. + +_Ozias_. +We know his mind: he hath written it plain +In the torn flesh of our ambassadors. +His mind to us is death; we can but choose +Between sharp swords and the slow slaying of thirst. + +_Judith_. +He may torment us if we yield. + +_Ozias_. + He may. +But not to yield is grisly and sure torment. + +_Judith_. +There must be hope, if we could reckon right! + +_Ozias_. +Well, thou and God have five days more to build +A bridge of hope over our broken world. +And, for the town even now fearfully aches +In scalding thirst, not five days had I granted, +Had it not been for somewhat I must say +Secretly to thee. + +_Judith_. + Secretly? Then here; +Send off these men to labour at their groans +Elsewhere; for not within my house thou comest; +I'll have no thoughts against God in my house. + + [OZIAS _disperses the citizens_. + +_Ozias_. +Judith, we are two upright minds in this +Herd of grovelling cowardice. We should, +To spiritual vision which can see +Stature of spirit, seem to stand in our folk +Like two unaltered stanchions in the heap +Of a house pulled down by fire. I know thy soul +Tempered by trust in God against this ruin; +But not in God, but in mortality +Thy soul stands founded; and death even now +Is digging at thy station in the world; +And as a man with ropes and windlasses +Pulls for new building columns of wreckt halls +Down with a breaking fall, so death has rigged +His skill about us, so he will break us down, +Ruin our height and courage; and as stone, +Carved with the beautiful pride of kings, hath made, +Hammer'd to rubble and ground for mortar, walls +Of farms and byres, our kill'd and broken natures, +With all their beauty of passion, yea, and delight +In God, death will shape and grind up to new +Housing for souls not royal as we are, +New flesh and mind for mean souls and dull hearts: +For death is only life destroying life +To roof the coming swarms in mortal shelter +Of flesh and mind experienced in joy. + +_Judith_. +Thy specious prologue means no good, I trow. +Thou wert to tell me wherefore for five days +We may pretend to be God's people still; +Why thou didst not make us over to death +Soon as the folk began to wail despair. + +_Ozias_. +This reasoning will tell thee why.--No need, +I think, to bring up into speech the years +Since in the barley-field Manasses lay +Shot by the sun. I tried (nor failed, I think), +To hold thy soul up from its hurt, and be +Somewhat of sight to thee, until thy long +Blind season of disaster should be changed. +Always I have found friendship in thine eyes; +And pleasant words, and silences more pleasant, +Have made us moments wherein all the world +Left our sequester'd minds; so that I dared +Often believe our friendliness might be +The brink of love. + +_Judith_. + Stop! for thou hast enough +Disgraced mine ears. + +_Ozias_. + I pray thee hear me out. +The dream of loving thee and being loved +Hath been my life; yea, with it I have kept +My heart drugg'd in a long delicious night +Colour'd with candles of imagined sense, +And musical with dreamt desire. I said, +The day will surely come upon the world, +To scatter this sweet night of fantasy +With morning, pour'd on my dream-feasted heart +Out of thine eyes, Judith. And yet I still +Feared for my dream, even as a maiden fears +The body of her lover. But, in the midst +Of all this charm'd delaying,--behold Death +Leapt into our world, lording it, standing huge +In front of the future, looking at us! +Thou seest now why, when the people came +Crying wildly to be given up to death, +I bade them wait five days?--That I at last +Might stamp the image of my glorious dream +Upon the world, even though it be wax +And the fires are kindling that must melt it out. +Judith, thou hast now five days more to live +This life of beautiful passion and sweet sense: +And now my love comes to thee like an angel +To call thee out of thy visionary love +For lost Manasses, out of ghostly desire +And shadows of dreams housing thy soul, that are +Vainer than mine were, dreams of dear things which death +Hath for ever broken; and lead thy life +To a brief shadowless place, into an hour +Made splendid to affront the coming night +By passion over sense more grandly burning +Than purple lightning over golden corn, +When all the distance of the night resounds +With the approach of wind and terrible rain, +That march to torment it down to the ground. +Judith, shall we not thus together make +Death admirable, yea, and triumph through +The gates of anguish with a prouder song +Than ever lifted a king's heart, who rode +Back from his war, with nations whipt before him, +Into trumpeting Nineveh? + +_Judith_. + Thou fool, +Death is nothing to me, and life is all. +But what foul wrong have I done to thee, Ozias, +That thou shouldst go about to put such wrong +Into my life as these defiling words? + +_Ozias_. +Is it defilement to hear love spoken? + +_Judith_. +Yes! thou hast soiled me: to know my beauty, +Wherewith I loved Manasses, and still love, +Has all these years dwelt in thy heart a dream +Of favourite lust,--O this is foul in my mind. + +_Ozias_. +I meant not what thou callest lust, but love. + +_Judith_. +What matters that? Thou hast desired me. +And knowing that, I feel my beauty clutch +About my soul with a more wicked shame +Than if I lived corrupt with leprosy. + +_Ozias_. +Wilt thou still let the dead have claim on thee? +Judith, wilt thou be married to a grave? + +_Judith_. +I am married to my love; and it is vile, +Yea, it is burning in me like a sin, +That when my love was absent, thy desire +Shouldst trespass where my love is single lord. + +_Ozias_. +This is but superstition. Love belongs +To living souls. It is a light that kills +Shadows and ghosts haunting about the mind. +Yea, even now when death glooms so immense +Over the heaven of our being, Love +Would keep us white with day amid the dark +Down-coming of the storm, till the end took us. +And joy is never wasted. If we love, +Then although death shall break and bray our flesh, +The joy of love that thrilled in it shall fly +Past his destruction, subtle as fragrance, strong +And uncontrollable as fire, to dwell +In the careering onward of man's life, +Increasing it with passion and with sweetness. +Duty is on us therefore that we love +And be loved. Wert thou made to set alight +Such splendour of desire in man, and yet, +For a grave's sake, keep all thy beauty null, +And nothing be of good nor help to thy kind? + +_Judith_. +Help? What help in me? + +_Ozias_. + To let go forth +The joy whereof thy beauty is the sign +Into the mind of man, and be therein +Courage of golden music and loud light +Against his enemies, the eternal dark +And silence. + +_Judith_. + Ah, not thus. Yet--could I not help?-- +Why talk we? What thing should I say to thee +To pierce the pride of lust wrapping thy heart? +How show thee that, as in maidens unloved +There is virginity to make their sex +Shrink like a wound from eyes of love untimely, +So in a woman who hath learnt herself +By her own beauty sacred in the clasp +Of him whom her desire hath sacred made, +There is a fiercer and more virgin wrath +Against all eyes that come desiring her? + +[_A Psalm of many voices strikes their ears, and through +the street pass old men chanting, followed and +answered by a troop of young men_. + +_Chorus: Old Men_. +Wilt thou not examine our hearts, O Lord God of our strength? +Wilt thou still be blindly trying us? Wilt thou not at length +Believe the crying of our words, that never our knees have bent +To foreign gods, nor any Jewish mouth or brain hath sent +Prayers to beseech the favour of abominable thrones +Worshipt by the heathen men with furnaces, wounds, and groans? + +_Young Men_. +And what good in our lives, strength or delighted glee, + Hath God paid to purchase our purity? +Though lust starve in our flesh, still he devises fire + To prove our lives pure as his fierce desire. +With huge heathenish tribes roaring exultant here, + Jewry fights as maid with a ravisher: + Tribes who better than we deal with the gods their lords, +For they pleasantly sin, yet the gods sharpen and drive their swords. + +_Old Men_. +Hast thou not tried us enough, Jehovah? Hast thou found any fire +Will draw from our hearts a smoke of burn'd idolatrous desire? +There is none in us, Lord: no other God in us but thee; +Only thy fires make our clean souls glitter with agony. +Pure we are, pure in our prayers, pure our souls look to thee, Lord; +And to be shewn to the world devoured by evil is our reward. + +_Young Men_. + We whose hearts were alone giving our God renown, + Under the wheels of hell we are fallen down! + False the heaven we built, fashion'd of purity; + 'Tis heathen heavens, made out of sin, stand high. + Come, make much of our God! Comfort his ears with song, + Lest his pride the gods with their laughter wrong, + Seeing, huddled as beasts held by a fearful night +Full of lions and hunger, his folk crouch to the heathen might. + +_Old Men_. +Jehovah, still we refrain from crying to the infamous gates +That open easily into the heavens thy mind of jealousy hates. +Power is in them: hast thou no power? Wilt thou not beware +Lest thy mood now press our minds to venturous despair? + +_Young Men_. +Fool'd, fool'd, fool'd are our lives, held by the world in jeer; + With crazed eyes we behold veils of enormous fear + Hiding dreadfully those marvellous gates and stairs +Where the heathen delighted with sin throng with their prosperous prayers. + +_Old Men_. +Yea, hung like the front of pestilent winds, thunderous dark before +The way into the heathen heavens, terrible curtains pour, +Webs of black imagination and woven frenzy of sin; +And yet we know power on earth belongs to those within. + +_Young Men_. + Yea, through Jehovah's jealousy, + Burning dimly at last we see + The great brass made like rigid flame, + The gates of the heavens we dare not name. + Take hold of wickedness! Yea, have heart + To tear the darkness of sin apart; + And find, beyond, our comforted sight + Flash full of a glee of fiery light,-- + The gods the heathen know through sin, + The gods who give them the world to win! + +_Judith_. +This may I not escape. My world hath need +Of me who still hold God firm in my mind. +It is no matter if I fail: I must +Send the God in me forth, and yield to him +The shaping of whatever chance befall.-- +Ozias! hateful thou hast made thyself +To me; for thou hast hatefully soiled my beauty, +My preciousest, given me to attire my soul +For her long marriage festival of life. +Yet I must make request to thee, and thou +Must grant it. When the sun is down to-night, +Quietly set the main gate open: I +Will pass therethrough and treat with Holofernes. + +_Ozias_. +What, wilt thou go to be murdered by these fiends? + +_Judith_. +Ask nothing, but do simply my request. + +_Ozias_. +I will: so thou shalt know the reverent heart +I have for thee, although its worship thou +So bitterly despisest; but thy will +Shall be a sacred thing for me to serve. +Thou hast thy dangerous demand, because +It is thou who askest, it is I who may +Grant it to thee,--this only! Yea, I will send +Thy heedless body among risks that thou, +Looking alone at the great shining God +Within thy mind, seest not; but I see +And sicken at them. Yet do I not require +Thy purpose; whether thy proud heart must have +The wound of death from steel that has not toucht +The peevish misery these Jews call blood; +Whether thy mind is for velvet slavery +In the desires of some Assyrian lord-- +Forgive me, Judith! there my love spoke, made +Foolish with injury; and I should be +Unwise to stay here, lest it break the hold +I have it in. I go, and I am humbled. +But thou shalt have thy asking: the gate is thine. + [_He goes_. + +_Judith_. +How can it harm me more, to feel my beauty +Read by man's eyes to mean his lust set forth? +Yea, Holofernes now can bring no shame +Upon me that Ozias hath not brought. +But this is chief: what balance can there be +In my own hurt against a nation's pining? +God hath given me beauty, and I may +Snare with it him whose trap now bites my folk. +There is naught else to think of. Let me go +And set those robes in order which best pleased +Manasses' living eyes; and let me fill +My gown with jewels, such as kindle sight, +And have some stinging sweetness in my hair.-- +Manasses, my Manasses, lost to me, +Gone where my love can nothing search, and hidden +Behind the vapours of these worldly years, +The many years between me and thy death; +Thine ears are sealed with immortal blessedness +Against our miserable din of living; +Through thy pure sense goeth no soil of grief. +Forgive me! for thou hast left me here to be hurt +And moved to pity by the dolour of men. +The garment of my soul is splasht with sorrow, +Sorrowful noise and sight; and like to fires +Of venom spat on me, the sorrow eats +Through the thin robe of sense into my soul. +And it is cried against me, this keen anguish, +By my own people and my God's;--and thou +Didst love them. Therefore thou must needs forgive me, +That I devise how this my beauty, this +Sacred to thy long-dead joy of desire, +May turn to weapon in the hand of God; +Such weapon as he hath taken aforetime +To sword whole nations at a stroke to their knees,-- +Storms of the air and hilted fire from heaven, +And sightless edge of pestilence hugely swung +Down on the bulk of armies in the night. +Such weapon in God's hand, and wielded so, +A woman's beauty may be now, I pray; +A pestilence suddenly in this foreign blood, +A blight on the vast growth of Assyrian weed, +A knife to the stem of its main root, the heart +Of Holofernes. God! Let me hew him down, +And out of the ground of Israel wither our plague! + + +II + +BEFORE THE TENT OF HOLOFERNES + +_Holofernes_. +Night and her admirable stars again! +And I again envying her and questioning! +What hast thou, Night, achieved, denied to me, +That maketh thee so full of quiet stars? +What beauty has been mingled into thee +So that thy depth burns with the peace of stars?-- +I now with fires of uproarious heat, +Exclaiming yellow flames and towering splendour +And a huge fragrant smoke of precious woods, +Must build against thy overlooking, Stars, +And against thy terrible eternal news +Of Beauty that burns quietly and pure, +A lodge of wild extravagant earthly fire; +Even as under passions of fleshly pleasure +I hide myself from my desiring soul. + + [_Enter Guards with_ JUDITH. + +_Guard_ 1. + + We found this woman wandering in the trenches, +And calling out, "Take me to Holofernes, +Assyrians, I am come for Holofernes." + +_Guard_ 2. + + She would not, for no words of ours, unveil, +And something held us back from handling her. + +_Guard_ 1. + + We think she must be beautiful, although +She is so stubborn with that veil of hers. + +_Guard_ 2. + + We minded my lord's word, that he be shewn +All the seized women which are strangely fair. + +_Holofernes_. +Take off thy veil. + +_Judith_. + I will not. + +_Holofernes_. + Take thy veil +From off thy face, Jewess, or thou straight goest +To entertain my soldiers. + +_Judith_. + I will not. + +_Holofernes_. +Am I to tear it, then? + +_Judith_. + My lord, thou durst not. + +_Holofernes_. +Ha, there is spirit here. I have the whim, +Jewess, almost to believe thee: I dare not! +But tell me who thou art. + +_Judith_. + That shalt thou know +Before the night has end. + +_Holofernes_. + Take off thy veil. + +_Judith_. +Alone for Holofernes am I come. + +_Holofernes_. +And there is only Holofernes here. +These fellows are but thoughts of mine; my whole +Army, that treads down all the earth and breaks +The banks of fending rivers into marsh, +Is nought but my forth-going imagination. +Where I am, there is no man else: if I +Appeared before thee in a throng of spears, +I'ld stand alone before thee, girt about +By powers of my mind made visible. + +_Judith_. +For captured peasants or for captured kings +Such words would have the right big sound. But I +Am woman, and I hear them not: I say +I will not, before any man but thee, +Make known my face; I am only for thee. +When I have thee alone and in thy tent +I will unveil. + +_Holofernes (to the Guards)_. + What! Staring?--Hence, you dogs! + + +III + +IN THE TENT OF HOLOFERNES + +_Holofernes (alone with Judith)_. +Thou art the woman! Thou hast come to me!-- +O not as I thought! not with senses blazing +Far into my deep soul abiding calm +Within their glory of knowledge, as the vast +Of night behind her outward sense of stars. +Now am I but the place thy beauty brightens, +And of myself I have no light of sense +Nor certainty of being: I am made +Empty of all my wont of life before thee, +A vessel where thy splendour may be poured, +After the way the great vessel of air +Accepts the morning power of the sun. +Now nothing I have known of me remains, +Save that, within me, far as the world is high +Beneath this dawn that gilds my spirit's air, +Some depth, more inward even than my soul, +Troubles and flashes like the shining sea. + O Jewish woman, if thou knewest all +The hunger and the tears the punisht world +Suffers by cause of thee, and of my dream +That thou wert somewhere hidden in mankind! +I could not but obey my dream, and toil +To break the nations and to sift them fine, +Pounding them with my warfare into dust, +And searching with my many iron hands +Through their destruction as through crumbs of marl, +Until my palms should know the jewel-stone +Betwixt them, the Woman who is Beauty,-- +Nature so long hath like a miser kept +Buried away from me in this heap of Jews! +Now that we twain might meet, women and men +In every land where I have felt for thee +Have taken desolation for their home, +Crying against me,--and against thee unknowing. + Ah, but I had given over to despair +The mind in me, I ground the stubborn tribes, +I quarried them like rocks and broke them small +And ground them down to flinders and to sands; +But never gleamed the jewel-stone therein, +Naught but the common flint of earth I found. +And in a dreary anger I kept on +Assailing the whole kind of man, because +Some manner of war my soul must needs inhabit. +Like a man making himself in drunken sleep +A king, my soul, drunk with its earthly war, +Kept idle all its terrible want of thee, +Believed itself managing arms with God; +Yea, when my trampling hurry through the earth +Made cloudy wind of the light human dust, +I thought myself to move in the dark danger +Of blinding God's own face with blasts of war! +Until my rage forgot his crime against me, +His hiding thee, the beauty I had dreamt. +Yea and I filled my flesh with furious pleasure, +That in the noise of it my soul should hear +No whispering thought of desperate desire. + Nevertheless, I knew well that my heart's +Sightless imagination lifted his face +Continually awake for news of thee. +But 'twas infirm and crazy waking, like +As when a starving sentry, put to guard +The sleep of a broken soldiery that flees +Through winter of wild hills from hounding foes, +Hath but the pain of frozen wounds, and fear +Feeding on his dark spirit, to watch withal. +And lo, +As suddenly, as blessedly thou comest +Now to my heart's unseeing watch for thee, +As out of the night behind him into the heart, +Drugg'd senseless with its ache, of that lost soldier +An arrow leaps, and ere the stab can hurt, +His frozen waking is the ease of death. +So I am killed by thee; all the loud pain +Of pleasure that had lockt my heart in life, +Wherein with blinded and unhearing face +My hope of thee yet stood and strained to look +And listen for thy coming,--all this life +Is killed before thee; yea, like marvellous death, +Spiritual sense invests my heart's desire; +And round the quiet and content thereof, +The striving hunger of my fleshly sense +Fails like a web of hanging cloth in fire.-- +Tell me now, if thou knowest, why thou hast come! + +_Judith_. +Sufficeth not for us that I have come?-- +Let not unseemly things live in my mouth; +Yet I would praise thee as thou praisest me, +But in a manner that my people use, +Things to approach in song they list not speak. +And song, thou knowest, inwrought with chiming strings, +Sweetens with sweet delay loving desire: +Also thine eyes will feed, and thy heart wonder.-- + Balkis was in her marble town, + And shadow over the world came down. + Whiteness of walls, towers and piers, + That all day dazzled eyes to tears, + Turned from being white-golden flame, + And like the deep-sea blue became. + Balkis into her garden went; + Her spirit was in discontent + Like a torch in restless air. + Joylessly she wandered there, + And saw her city's azure white + Lying under the great night, + Beautiful as the memory + Of a worshipping world would be + In the mind of a god, in the hour + When he must kill his outward power; + And, coming to a pool where trees + Grew in double greeneries, + Saw herself, as she went by + The water, walking beautifully, + And saw the stars shine in the glance + Of her eyes, and her own fair countenance + Passing, pale and wonderful, + Across the night that filled the pool. + And cruel was the grief that played + With the queen's spirit; and she said: + "What do I hear, reigning alone? + For to be unloved is to be alone. + There is no man in all my land + Dare my longing understand; + The whole folk like a peasant bows + Lest its look should meet my brows + And be harmed by this beauty of mine. + I burn their brains as I were sign + Of God's beautiful anger sent + To master them with punishment + Of beauty that must pour distress + On hearts grown dark with ugliness. + But it is I am the punisht one. + Is there no man, is there none, + In whom my beauty will but move + The lust of a delighted love; + In whom some spirit of God so thrives + That we may wed our lonely lives? + Is there no man, is there none?"-- + She said, "I will go to Solomon." + +_Holofernes_. +I shall not bear it: dreamed, it hath made my life +Fail almost, like a storm broken in heaven +By its internal fire; and now I feel +Love like a dreadful god coming to do +His pleasure on me, to tear me with his joy +And shred my flesh-wove strength with merciless +Utterance through me of inhuman bliss.-- +I must have more divinity within me.-- +Come to me, slave! [_Calling out to his attendants_. + +_Judith_. + Thou callest someone? Alas! +O, where's my veil?--Cry him to stay awhile!-- + +_Holofernes_. +Thou troubled with such whimsy!--But 'tis no one, +A mere sexless thing of mine. + +_Judith_. + He is coming! +I threw my veil--where?--I must bow my face +Close to the ground, or his eyes will find me out; +And--O my lord, hold him back with thy voice! + [_She has knelt down_. +Hold him in doubt to enter a moment, while +I loosen my hair into some manner of safety +Against his prying. + +_Holofernes_. + Slave, dost thou hear me? Come!-- +I marvel, room for such a paltering mood +Should be within thy mind, now so nearly +Deified with the first sense of my love. + [_A Eunuch comes in_. + +_Holofernes_. +Wine! The mightiest wine my sutlers have; +Wine with the sun's own grandeur in it, and all +The wildness of the earth conceiving Spring +From the sun's golden lust: wine for us twain! +And when thou hast brought it, burn anear my bed +Storax and cassia; and let wealth be found +To cover my bed with such strife of colour, +Crimson and tawny and purple-inspired gold, +That eyes beholding it may take therefrom +Splendid imagination of the strife +Of love with love's implacable desire. + +_Judith (still kneeling)_. +I must lean on thee now, my God! A weight +Of pitiable weakness thou must bear +And move as it were thine own strength; tell my heart +How not to sicken in abomination, +Show me the way to loathe this vile man's rage, +Now close to seize me into the use of his pleasure, +With the loathing that is terrible delight. +So that not fainting, but refresht and astonisht +And strangely spirited and divinely angry +My body may arise out of its passion, +Out of being enjoyed by this fiend's flesh. +Then man my arm; then let mine own revenge +Utter thy vengeance, Lord, as speech doth meaning; +Yea, with hate empower me to say bravely +The glittering word that even now thy mind +Purposes, God,--the swift stroke of a falchion! + +_Holofernes_. +Woman, beloved, why art thou fixt so long +Kneeling and downward crookt, and in thy hair +Darkened?--Ah, thy shoulders urging shape +Of loveliness into thy hair's pouring gleam! + +_Judith_. +Needs must I pray my Jewish God for help +Against my bridal joys. For I do fear them. + +_Holofernes_. +I also: these are the joys that fear doth own. + + +IV + +_At the Gate of Bethulia. On the walls, on either side of +the Gate, are citizens watching the Assyrian camp;_ +OZIAS _also, standing by himself_. + +_Ozias_. +When wilt thou cure thyself, spirit of the earth, +When wilt thou cure thyself of thy long fever, +That so insanely doth ferment in thee?-- +'Tis not man only: the whole blood of life +Is fever'd with desire. But as the brain, +Being lord of the body, is served by blood +So well that a hidden canker in the flesh +May send, continuous as a usury, +Its breeding venom upward, till in the brain +It vapour into enormity of dreaming: +So man is lord of life upon the earth; +And like a hastening blood his nature wells +Up out of the beasts below him, they the flesh +And he the brain, they serving him with blood; +And blood so loaden with brute lust of being +It steams the conscious leisure of man's thought +With an immense phantasma of desire, +An unsubduable dream of unknown pleasure; +Which he sends hungering forth into the world, +But never satisfied returns to him. +Who hath found beauty? Who hath not desired it? +'Tis but the feverish spirit of earthly life +Working deliriously in man, a dream +Questing the world that throngs upon man's mind +To find therein an image of herself; +And there is nothing answers her entreaty.-- + I climb towards death: it is not falling down +For me to die, but up the event of the world +As up a mighty ridge I climb, and look +With lifted vision backward down on life. +So high towards death I am gone, listless I gaze +Where on the earth beneath me, into the fires +Of that Assyrian strength, our siege of fate, +Judith, the dream of my desire of beauty, +Goes daring forth, to shape herself therein, +Seeking to fashion in its turbulence +Some deed that will be likeness of herself. +For now I know her purpose: and I know +She will be murdered there. Against the world +The beauty I have lived in, my loved dream, +Goes, wild to master the world; and she will +Therefore be murdered. It is nothing now; +Wind from the heights of death is on my brow. + +_Talk among the other watchers_. +It must be, God is for us. Such a mind +As this of Judith's could not be, unless +God had spoken it into her. She is +His special voice, to tell the Assyrians +Terrible matters. + + Is she God's? I think +'Tis Holofernes hath her now. + + If not, +Upon his soldiers he hath lavisht her. + + Not he. Now they have known her, his filled senses +Never will leave go our wonderful Judith. + + Ay, wonderful in Jewry. But there are +In Babylon women so beautiful, +They make men's spirits desperate, to know +Flesh cannot ever minister enough +Delight to ease the craving they are taskt with. + + Who talks of Babylon when God even now +Is training her fierce champion, Holofernes, +Into the death a woman holds before him? + + A woman killing Holofernes! + + Ay; +Be she abused by him or not, I know +God means to give her marvellous hands to-night. +I know it by my heart so strangely sick +With looking out for the first drowsy stir +In that huge flaming quiet of the camp. +Now fearfuller qualm than famine eagerly +Handles my life and pulls at it,--my faith's +Hunger for being fed with sounds and visions: +The firelight mixt with a trooping bustle of shadows, +The silence suddenly shouting with surprise, +That tells of men astounded out of sleep +To find that God hath dreadfully been among them. + + We have mistaken Judith. + + Even as now +God is mistaken by your doubting hearts. + + She that has dealt with such a pride of spirit +In all her ways of life, so that she seemed +To feel like shadow, falling on the light +Her own mind made, the common thoughts of men; +Ay, she that to-day came down into our woe +And stood among the griefs that buzz upon us, +Like one who is forced aside from a bright journey +To stoop in a small-room'd cottage, where loud flies +Pester the inmates and the windows darken; +This she, this Judith, out of her quiet pride, +And out of her guarded purity, to walk +Where God himself from violent whoredom could +Scarcely preserve her shuddering flesh! and all +For our sake, for the lives she hath in scorn, +This horrible Assyrian risk she ventures. + + There should be prayer for that. Let us ask God +To bind the men, whose greed now glares upon her, +In some strange feebleness; surely he will; +Surely not with woman's worst injury +Her noble obedience he will reward! +Let us ask God to bind these men before her. + + They are not his to bind: else, were they here? +They are the glorying of Nebuchadnezzar's +Heart of fury against our God, sent here +Like insolent shouting into his holy quiet. +God could not bind these bragging noises up +In Nebuchadnezzar's heart; it is not his, +But made by Babylonian gods or owned +By thrones that hold the heavens over Nineveh. +For all these outland greatnesses, these kings +Whose war goes pealing through the world, these towns +Infidel and triumphant, reaching forth +Armies to hug the world close to their lust,-- +What are they but the gods making a scorn +Of our God on the earth? Then how can he +Alter these men from wicked delight? or how +Keep Judith all untoucht among their hands, +When his own quietness he could not keep +Unbroken by the god's Assyrian insult? + + But with a thunder he can shatter this +Intruding noise, and make his quiet again. + + And in their lust he can entangle them, +Deceiving them far into Judith's beauty, +Which is his power, and lop them from their gods. + + Their outrage will be ornament upon her! + + Out of the hands of the goblins she will come +Not markt with shame, but wearing their vile usage +Like one whom earthly reign covers with splendour. + + The ignominy they thought of shall be turned +To shining, yea, to announcing through the world +How God hath used her to beguile the heathen. +It begins! Now it begins! Lo, how dismay +Is fallen on the camp in a strange wind: +The ground, that seemed as spread with yellow embers, +Leaps into blazing, and like cinders whirled +And scattered up among the flames, are black +Bands of frantic men flickering about! + + Ozias! seest thou how our enemies +Are labouring in amazement? How they run +Flinging fuel to light them against fear? + + Now they begin to roar their terror: now +They wave and beckon wordless desperate things +One to another. + + Hear the iron and brass +Ringing above their voices, as they snatch +The arms that seem to fight among themselves, +Seized by their masters' anguish; dost thou hear +The clumsy terror in the camp, the men +Hasting to arm themselves against our God, +Ozias? + +_Ozias_. + Lions have taken a sentinel. + +_A Citizen_. +Judith hath taken Holofernes. + +_Judith's voice outside, under the gate_. + Yea, +And brought him back with her. Open the gates. + +_The Citizens_. +Open the gates. Bring torches. Wake, ye Jews! +Hail, Judith, marvellously chosen woman! +How bringst thou Holofernes? Show him to us. + +_Judith_. +Dare you indeed behold him? + +_A Citizen_. + Is he bound? + +_Judith_. +Drugged rather, with a medicine that God +Prepared for him and gave into my hands. +Open the gates! It is a harmless thing, +The Holofernes I have made your show; +You may gaze blithely upon him. I have tamed +The man's pernicious brain. Open the gates! +What, are your hands still nerveless? But my hands, +The hands of a woman, have done notable work. + +_The Gates open_. JUDITH _appears, standing against +the night and the Assyrian fires. Torches and +shouting in the town_. + +_Citizens_. +Judith! Judith alone! Where is thy boast +Of Holofernes captured? + +_Judith_. + I am alone, +Indeed; and you are many; yet with me +Comes Holofernes, certainly a captive. + +_Ozias_. +What trifle is this? + +_Judith_. + Trifle? It is the word. +A trifle, a thing of mere weight, I have brought you +From the Assyrian camp. My apron here +Is loaded now more heavily, but as meanly +As an old witch's skirt, when she comes home +From seeking camel's-dung for kindling; yet +My burden was, an hour ago, the world +Where you were ground to tortures; it was the brain +Inventing your destruction.--Look you now! + [_Holding up the head of_ HOLOFERNES. +This is the mouth through which commandment came +Of massacre and damnation to the Jews; +Here was the mind the gods that hate our God +Used to empower the agonies they devised +Against us; here your dangers were all made, +Your horrible starvation; and the thirst +Those wicked gods supposed would murder you, +Here a creature became, a ravenous creature; +Yea, here those mighty vigours lived which took, +Like ocean water taking frost, the hate +Those gods have for Jehovah, shaping it +Atrociously into the war that clencht +Their fury about you, frozen into iron. +Jews, here is the head of Holofernes: take it +And let it grin upon our highest wall +Over against the camp of the Assyrians. + [_She throws them the head_. +Ay, you may worry it; now is the jackals' time; +Snarl on your enemy, now he is dead. + +_Ozias_. +Judith, be not too scornful of their noise. +There are no words may turn this deed to song: +Praise cannot reach it. Only with such din, +Unmeasured yelling exultation, can +Astonishment speak of it. In me, just now, +Thought was the figure of a god, firm standing, +A dignity like carved Egyptian stone; +Thou like a blow of fire hast splinter'd it; +It is abroad like powder in a wind, +Or like heapt shingle in a furious tide, +Thou having roused the ungovernable waters +My mind is built amidst, a dangerous tower. +My spirit therein dwelling, so overwhelmed +In joy or fear, disturbance without name, +Out of the rivers it is fallen in +Can snatch no substance it may shape to words +Answerable to thy prowess and thy praise. +We are all abasht by thee, and only know +To worship thee with shouts and astounded passion. + +_Judith_. +Yes, now the world has got a voice against me: +At last now it may howl a triumph about me. + +_Ozias_. +This, nevertheless, my thought can seize from out +The wildness that goes pouring past it. God, +Wondrously having moved thee to this deed, +Hath shown the Jews a wondrous favouring love. +Thee it becomes not, standing though thou art +On this high action, to think scorn of men +Whom God thinks worthy of having thee for saviour. + +_Judith_. +This is a subtle flattery. What know I +Of whom God loves, of whom God hates? I know +This only: in my home, in my soul's chamber, +A filthy verminous beast hath made his lair. +I let him in; I let this grim lust in; +Not only did not bolt my doors against +His forcing, but even put them wide and watcht +Him coming in, to make my house his stable. +What though I killed him afterward? All my place, +And all the air I live in, is foul with him. +I killed him? Truly, I am mixt with him; +Death must have me before it hath all him. + +_Ozias_. +In thee, too, are the floods, the wild rivers, +Overrunning thy thought, the nameless mind? +How else, indeed? Nay, we are dull with joy: +Of thee we thought not, out of the hands of outrage +Coming back, although with victory coming. +But this makes surety once more of my thought, +And gives again my reason its lost station; +For it may come now in my privilege +(A thing that could cure madness in my brain) +That thou from me persuasion hast to endure +What well I know thy soul, thy upright soul, +Feels as abominable harness on it +Fastening thee unwillingly to crime,-- +The wickedness that hath delighted in thee. + +_Judith_. +Ay? Art thou there already? Tasting, art thou, +What the Assyrians may have forced on me, +Ere thou hast well swallowed thy new freedom? +Indeed, I know this is the wine of the feast +Which I have set for thee and thy Bethulia; +And 'tis the wine makes delicate the banquet. + +_Ozias_. +Wait: listen to me. 'Tis I now must be wise +And thou the hearkener. Not without wound +(So I make out, at least, thy hurrying words) +Comest thou back to us from conquering. +And such a wound, I easily believe, +As eats into thy soul and rages there; +Yea, I that know thee, Judith, know thy soul +Worse rankling hath in it from heathen insult +Than flesh could take from steel bathed in a venom +Art magic brewed over a charcoal fire, +Blown into flame by hissing of whipt lizards. +Yet is it likely, by too much regarding, +Thy hurt is pamper'd in its poisonous sting. +Wounds in the spirit need no surgery +But a mind strong not to insist on them. +See, then, thou hast not too much horror of this; +Who that fights well in battle comes home sound?-- +Much less couldst thou, who must, with seeming weakness, +Invite the power of Holofernes forth +Ere striking it, thy womanhood the ambush. +For thou didst plan, I guess, to duel him +In snares, weaving his greed about his limbs, +Drawn out and twisted winding round his strength +By ministry of thy enticing beauty; +That when he thought himself spending on thee +Malicious violence, and thou hadst made him +Languish, stupid with boasting and delight, +Thy hands might find him a tied quiet victim +Under their anger, maiming him of life. +Now, thy device accomplisht, wilt thou grudge +Its means? Wilt thou scruple to understand +Thy abus'd sex will show upon thy fame +A nobler colour of glory than a soldier's +Wounded bravery rusting his habergeon? +Nay, will not the world rejoice, thou being found +Among its women, ready such insolence +To bear as is unbearable to think on, +Thereby to serve and save God and his people? + +_Judith_. +The world rejoice over me? Yea, I am certain. + +_Ozias_. +Then art thou too fastidious. It is weak +To make thyself a shame of being injured; +And is it injury indeed? Nay, is it +Anything but a mere opinion hurt? +Not thou, but customary thought is here +Molested and annoyed; the only nerve +Can carry anguish from this to thy soul, +Is that credulity which ties the mind +Firmly to notional creature as to real. +Advise thee, then; dark in thyself keep hid +This grief; and thou wilt shortly find it dying. + +_A Citizen_. +Judith, +Pardon our ecstasy. 'Tis time thou hadst +Our honour. But first tell us all the event, +That in thy proper height thou with thy deed +May stand against our worship. + +_Judith_. + Why do you stop +Your shouts, and glare upon me? Have you need +Truly to hear my tale? I think, not so. +Ozias here, as he hath whiled at ease +Upon the walls my stay in the camp yonder, +Hath fairly fancied all that I have done, +And more exactly, and with a relishing gust, +All that was done to me. Ask him, therefore; +If he hath not already entertained +Your tedious leisure with my story told +Pat to your liking, enjoyed, and glosst with praise.-- +And yet, why ask him? Why go even so far +To hear it? Ask but the clever libidinousness +Dwelling in each of your hearts, and it will surely +Imagine for you how I trained to my arms +Lewd Holofernes, and kept him plied with lust, +Until his wild blood in the end paused fainting, +And he lay twitching, drained of all his wits;-- +But there was wine as well working in him, +Feebling his sinews; 'twas not all my doing, +The snoring fit that came before his death, +The routing beastly slumber that was my time. +You know it all! Why ask me for the tale? + +_Ozias_. +Comfort her: praise her. She is strangely ashamed +Of Holofernes having evilly used her. + +_A Citizen_. +We will contrive the triumph of our joy +Into some tune of words, and bring thee on, +Accompanied by singing, to thy house. + +_Judith_. +I pray you, rather let me go alone. +You will do better to be searching out +All sharpen'd steel that may take weapon-use. +The Assyrians are afraid: it is your time. + + [_They surround_ JUDITH _and go with her_. + +CHORUS _of Citizens praising_ JUDITH _and +leading her to her house_. +Over us and past us go the years; +Like wind that taketh sound from jubilee +And aloud flieth ringing, +Over us goeth the speed of the years, +Like loud noise eternally bringing +The greatness women have done. + + Deborah was great; with her singing +She hearten'd the men that the horses had dismayed; +Deborah, the wife of Lapidoth, alone +Stood singing where the men were horribly afraid, +Singing of God in the midst of fear; +When archers out of Hazor were +Eating the land like grasshoppers, +And darkness at noon was plundering the air +Of the light of the sun's insulted fires, +Red darkness covering Sisera's host +As Jewry was covered by the Canaanite's boast: +For the earth was broken into dust beneath +The force of his chariots' thundering tyres, +Nine hundred chariots of iron. + + Deborah was great in her prophesying; +But, though her anger moved through the Israelites, +And the loose tribes her indignant crying +Bound into song, fashion'd to an army; +And before the measure of her song went flying, +Like leaves and breakage of the woods +Fallen into pouring floods, +The iron and the men of Sisera and Jabin; +Not by her alone +God's punishment was done +On Canaan intending a monstrous crime, +On the foaming and poison of the serpent in Hazor; +Two women were the power of God that time. + + Yea, and sullenly down +Into its hiding town, +Even though the lightning were still in its heart, +The broken dragon, drawing in its fury, +Had croucht to mend its shatter'd malice, +Had lifted its head again and spat against God. +But God its endlessly devising brain, +Its braving spirit, its captain Sisera, +Into the hands of another woman brought: +In nets of her persuasion +She that wild spirit caught, +She fasten'd up that uncontrollable thought. +Sisera spake, and the crops were flames; +Sisera lookt, and blood ran down the door-sills. +But weary, trusting his entertainment, +He came to Jael, the Kenite woman; +A woman who gave him death for a bed, +And with base tools nailed down his murderous head +Fast to the earth his rage had fed +With men unreckonably slain. + + But than these wonderfully greater, +Judith, art thou; +The praise of both shall follow like a shadow +After thy glory now, +Who alone the measureless striding, +The high ungovern'd brow, +Of Assur upon the hills of the world +Hast tript and sent him hugely sliding, +Like a shot beast, down from his towering, +By his own lamed +Mightiness hurl'd +To lie a filth in disaster. +Deborah and Jael, famously named, +Like rich lands enriching the city their master, +Bring thee now their most golden honour. +For the beauty of thy limbs was found +By a dreadfuller enemy dreadful as the sound +Of Deborah's singing, though hers was a song +That had for its words thousands of men. +But thou thyself, looking upon them, +Didst weaken the Assyrians mortally. +They thought it terrible to see thee coming; +They falter'd in their impiousness, +Their hearts gave in to thee; they went +Backward before thee and shewed thee the tent +Where Holofernes would have thee in to him, +Yea, for his slayer waiting, +Waiting thee to entertain, +Desiring thee, his death, to enjoy, as Jael +Waited for Sisera her slain. + +_Judith_. +Have done! Do you think I know not why your souls +Are so delighted round me? Do you think +I see not what it is you praise?--not me, +But you yourselves triumphing in me and over me. + +_A Citizen_. +Did we kill Holofernes? + +_Judith_. + No: nor I. +That corpse was not his death. He is alive, +And will be till there is no more a world +Filled with his hidden hunger, waiting for souls +That ford the monstrous waters of the world. +Alive in you is Holofernes now, +But fed and rejoicing; I have filled your hunger. +Yea, and alive in me: my spirit hath been +Enjoyed by the lust of the world, and I am changed +Vilely by the vile thing that clutcht on me, +Like sulphurous smoke eating into silver. +Your song is all of this, this your rejoicing; +You have good right to circle me with song! +You are the world, and you have fed on me. + +_A Citizen_. +We are the world; yes, but the world for ever +Honouring thee. + +_Judith_. + How am I honoured so, +If I no honour have for the world, but rather +Hold it an odious and traitorous thing, +That means no honour but to those whose spirits +Have yielded to its ancient lechery?-- +Defiled, defiled! + +_A Citizen_. + Thou wert moved by our grief: +Was that a vile thing? + +_Judith_. + That was the cunning world. +It moved me by your grief to give myself +Into the pleasure of its ravenous love. + +_A Citizen_. +Judith, if thy hot spirit beareth still +Indignant suffering of villainy, +Think, that thou hast no wrong from it. Such things +Are in themselves dead, and have only life +From what lives round them. And around thee glory +Lives and will force its splendour on the harm +Thy purity endured, making it shine +Like diamond in sunlight, as before +Unviolated it could not. + +_Judith_. + Ay, to you +I doubt not I seem admirable now, +Worthy of being sung in loudest praise; +But to myself how seem I? + +_A Citizen_. + Surely as one +Whose charity went down the stairs of hell, +And barter'd with the fiends thy sacredest +For our deliverance. + +_Judith_. + And that you praise!-- +I was a virgin spirit. Whence I come +I know not, and I care not whither I go. +One fearful knowledge holds me: that I am +A spirit walking dangerously here. +For the world covets me. I am alone, +And made of something which the world has not, +Unless its substance can devour my spirit. +And it hath devoured me! In Holofernes +It seized me, fed on me; and then gibed on me, +With show of his death scoffing at my rage,-- +His death!--He lay there, drunken, glutted with me, +And his bare falchion hung beside the bed,-- +Look on it, and look on the blood I made +Go pouring thunder of pleasure through his brain!-- +And like a mad thing hitting at the madness +Thronging upon it in a grinning rout, +I my defilement smote, that Holofernes. +But does a maniac kill the frenzy in him, +When with his fists he beats the clambering fiends +That swarm against his limbs? No more did I +Kill my defilement; it was fast within me; +And like a frenzy can go out of me +And dress its hideous motions in my world. +For when I come back here, behold the thing +I murdered in the camp leaps up and yells! +The carrion Holofernes, my defilement, +Dances a triumph round me, roars and rejoices, +Quickened to hundreds of exulting lives. + +_A Citizen_. +God help thee in this wildness! Are we then +As Holofernes to thee? + +_Judith_. + You are naught +But the defilement that is in me now, +Rejoicing to be lodged safely within me. +You are the lust I entertained, rejoicing +To wreak itself upon my purity. +The stratagems of my ravishment you are, +Rejoicing that the will you serve has dealt +Its power on me. O, I hate you not. +You and your crying grief should have blown past +My heart like wind shaking a fasten'd casement. +But I must have you in. Myself I loathe +For opening to you, and thereby opening +To the demon which had set you on to whine +Pitiably in the porches of my spirit. +You are but noise; but he is the lust of the world, +The infinite wrong the spirit, the virgin spirit, +Must fasten against, or be for ever vile. + +_A Citizen_. +But is it naught that we, the folk of God, +Are safe by thee? + +_Judith_. + God hath his own devices. +But I would be God's helper! I would be +Known as the woman whom his strength had chosen +To ruin the Assyrians!--O my God, +How dreadfully thou punishest small sins! +If it is thou who punishest; but rather +It is that, when we slacken in perceiving +The world's intent towards us, and fatally, +Enticed out of suspicion by fair signs, +Go from ignoring its proposals, down +To parley,--thou our weakness dost permit. +In all my days I from the greed of the world +Virginal have kept my spirit's dwelling,-- +Till now; yea, all my being I have maintained +Sacredly my own possession; for love +But made more beautiful and more divine +My spirit's ownership. And yet no warning, +When I infatuate went down to be +Procuress of myself to the world's desire, +Did God blaze on my blindness, no rebuke. +Therefore I am no more my virgin own, +But hatefully, unspeakably, the world's. +To these now I belong; they took me and used me. +I have no pride to live for; and why else +Should one stay living, if not joyfully proud? +For I have yielded now; mercilessly +What is makes foolish nothing of what was. +To know the world, for all its grasping hands, +For all its heat to utter its pent nature +Into the souls that must go faring through it, +Availing nothing against purity, +Made always like rebellion trodden under,-- +By this was life a noble labour. Now +I have been persuaded into the world's pleasure: +And now at last I will all certainly +Contrive for myself the death of Holofernes. + + [OZIAS _comes behind her and catches the lifted falchion_. + +_Judith_. +It was well done, Ozias. + +_Ozias_. + I have watcht +Thy anguish growing, and I lookt for this. + +_Judith_. +Thou knowest me better than I know myself. +What moves in me is strange and uncontrolled, +That once I thought was ruled: thou knew'st me better.-- +Indeed thou must forgive me; what was I +To take so bitterly thy suit? What right +Had I to give thee anger, when thou wouldst +Brighten thy hopeless death with me enjoyed, +I, even from that anger, going to be +Holofernes' pleasure?--Thou knewest me better, +And therefore shalt forgive me. Ay, no doubt +My spirit answered thee so fiercely then +Because it felt thee reading me aright, +How a mere bragging was my purity. +But now to pardon askt, I must add thanks.-- +I had forgot Manasses! Even love +Was driven forth of me by these loud mouths! +Whether in death he waits for me, I know not; +But it had been an unforgivable thing +To have made this the end; not to have gone +To death as unto spousals, leaving life +As one sets down a work faithfully done, +And knows oneself by service justified, +Worthy of love, whether love be or not. +But, soiled with detestation, to have thrown +Fiercely aside the garment of this light; +Proved at the last impatient, death desiring +Like a mere doffing of foul drenched clothes; +Release from the wicked hindering mire of sorrow; +A comfortable darkness hiding me +Out of the glowing world myself have made +An insult, domineering me with splendour;-- +O such a death had turned, past all forgiving, +My insult to Manasses, and searcht him out, +Even where he is quiet, with the blaze, +Ranging like din, of this contempt, this triumph. +Not crying out such hateful news should I +Flee hunted into death, unto my love. +From this, Ozias, thou hast saved me. Now +I am to learn my shame, that not amazed, +But practised in my burden, I at last, +When my time comes, may all in gladness fare +The road made sacred by Manasses' feet. + + [JUDITH _goes into her house_. + +_Ozias (addressing the citizens)_. +You do well to be stricken silent here. +Terrible Holofernes slain by a woman +Was something wonderful, to be noised aloud; +But this is a wonder past applauding thought, +This grief darkening Judith, in the midst +Of the new shining glory she herself +Has brought to conquer in our skies the storm. +You do well to be dumb: for you have seen +Virginity. That spirit you have seen, +Seen made wrathfully plain that secret spirit, +Whereby is man's frail scabbard filled with steel. +This, cumbered in the earthen kind of man, +Which ceaseless waters would be wearing down, +Alone giveth him stubborn substance, holds him +Upright and hard against impious fate. +All things within it would the world possess, +And have them in the tide of its desire: +Man hath his nature of the vehement world; +He is a torrent like the stars and beasts +Flowing to answer the fierce world's desire. +But like a giant wading in the sea +Stands in the rapture, and refusing it, +And looking upward out of it to find +Who knows what sign?--spirit, virginity; +A power caught by the power of the world; +The spirit in whose unknown hope doth man +Deny the mastery of his fortune here; +Virginity, whose pride, impassion'd only +To be as she herself would be, nor thence +To loosen for the world's endeavouring, +And, though all give the rash obedience, stand +Her own possession,--this virginity, +This pride of the spirit, asking no reward +But to be pride unthrown, this is the force +Whereby man hath his courage in the strange +Fearful turmoil of being conscious man. +Yea, worshipping this spirit, he will at last +Grow into high divine imagination, +Wherein the envious wildness of the world +Yieldeth its striving up to him, and takes +His mind, building the endless stars like stone +To house his towering joy of self-possessing. +This made you dumb; ignorant knowledge of this, +Blind vision of virginity's mightiness, +Did chide the exclamation in your hearts. +And think not you have seen, in Judith's grief, +Virginity drown'd in the pouring world. +For what is done is naught; what is, is all: +And Judith is virginity's appointed. +Even by her injury she showeth us, +As fire by violence may be revealed, +How sovereign is virginity.-- +But let us now consult what way her grief, +Which is not to be understood by us, +May spend itself, with naught to urge its power. +Let us within our walls keep close this tale, +Close as the famine and the thirst were kept +Devouring us by the Assyrians. +Let there be no news going through the land +Out of Bethulia but this: that we +At Judith's hands had our deliverance, +But she from Holofernes and his crew +Unwilling and astonisht reverence, +As they were men with minds opprest by God. + + + + +THE ETERNAL WEDDING + + +_He_. +Even as a wind that hasteth round the world +From out cold hours fill'd with shadow of earth, +To pour alight against the risen sun; +So unto thee adoring, out of its shadow +Floweth my spirit, into the light of thee +Which Beauty is, and Joy. From my own fate, +From out the darkness wherein long I fared +Worshipping stars and morsels of the light, +Through doors of golden morning now I pass +Into the great whole light and perfect day +Of shining Beauty, open to me at last. +Yea, into thee now do I pass, beloved: +Beauty and thou are mine! + +_She_. + And I am thine! +I am desirable to my desire: +Thence am I clean as immortality +With Beauty and Joy, the fiery power of Beauty. + +_He_. +And by my spirit made marvellous here by thee, +Poured out all clear into the gold of thee, +Not myself only do I know; I have +Golden within me the whole fate of man: +That every flesh and soul belongs to one +Continual joyward ravishment, whose end +Is here, in this perfection. Now I know-- +For all my speculation soareth up, +A bird taking eternity for air,-- +Now being mixt with thee, in the burning midst +Of Beauty for my sense and mind and soul,-- +That life hath highest gone which hath most joy. +For like great wings forcefully smiting air +And driving it along in rushing rivers, +Desire of joy beats mightily pulsing forward +The world's one nature, and all the loose lives therein, +Carried and greatly streaming on a gale +Of craving, swept fiercely along in beauty;-- +Like a great weather of wind and shining sun, +When the airs pick up whole huge waves of sea, +Crumble them in their grasp and high aloft +Sow them glittering, a white watery dust, +To company with light: so we are driven +Onward and upward in a wind of beauty, +Until man's race be wielded by its joy +Into some high incomparable day, +Where perfectly delight may know itself,-- +No longer need a strife to know itself, +Only by its prevailing over pain. + +_She_. +Beloved, but no pain may strive with us. + +_He_. +No, for we are flown far ahead of life: +The feet of our Spirit have wonderfully trod +The dangers of the rushing fate of life, +As summer-searching birds tread with their wings +Mountainous surges in the air. But many, +Not strongly fledge to ride the world's great rapture, +Must break, down fallen into steep confusion, +Where we climb easily and tower with joy. +Nevertheless doth life foretell in us +How it shall all make seizure at the last +Upon this height of ecstasy, this fort +Life like an army storms: Captains we are +In the great assault; and where we stand alone +Within these hours, built like establisht flames +Round us, at long last all man's life shall stand +At peace with joy, wearing delighted sense +As meadows wear their golden pleasure of flowers. +Certain my heart dwells in these builded hours, +That there is no more beauty beyond thee. +Thou art my utter beauty; and--behold +The marvel, God in Heaven!--I am thine. +Therefore we know, in this height-guarded place +Whereto the speed of our desire hath brought us; +Here in this safety crowning, like a fort +Built upon topmost peaks, the height of beauty,-- +We know to be glad of life as we were gods +Timelessly glad of deity; yea, to enjoy +Fleshly, spiritual Being till the swift +Torrent of glee (as hurled star-dust can change +Dim earthly weather to a moment like the sun,) +Doth startle life to self-adoring godhead,-- +Divine body of Power and divine +Burning soul of Light and self-desire. +And having given ourselves all to amazement, +We are made like a prophesying song +Of life all joy, a bride in the arms of God.-- +Yea, God shall marry his people at the last; +And every man and woman who has sworn +That only joy can make this Being sacred, +Weaves at the wedding-garment. + +_She_. + Ah, my beloved, +Feelest thou too that out of earth and time +We are transgressing into Heavenly hours? +Or, threading the dark worldly multitude +And making lightning of its path, there comes +A zeal from God posting along our lives. + +_He_. +For some eternal pulse hath chosen us, +Some divine anger beats within our hearts. + +_She_. +Anger? But how far off is love from anger! + +_He_. +Nay, both belong to joy; joy's kind is twain. +And close as in the pouring of sun-flame +Are mingled glory of light and fury of heat, +Joy utters its twin radiance, love and anger; +If joy be not indeed all sacred wrath +With circumstance; indignant memory +Of what hath been, when the new lusts of God +Exulted unimaginably, before +Rigours of law fastened like creeping habit +Upon their measureless wont, and forced them drive +Their ranging music of delighted being +Through the fixt beating tune of a circling world.-- +Is not love so? Amazement of an anger +Against created shape and narrowness? +The bound rage of the uncreated Spirit +Whose striving doth impassion us and the world? +A wrath that thou and I are not one being? + +_She_. +Yes, and not only words that thou and I +Out of our sexes with a flame's escape +Are fashioned into one. The Spirit in us +Hath, like imagination in a prison, +Kindled itself free of all boundary, +So that it hath no room but its own joy, +Ample as at the first, before it fell +Into this burthenous habit of a world. +What have we now to do with the world? We are +Made one unworldly thing; we are past the world; +Yea, and unmade: we are immortality. + +_He_. +And only fools abominably crazed, +Those who will set imagination down +As less in truth than their dim sensual wit, +Dare doubt that, while these dreams of ours, these bodies, +Still quiver in the world each with its own +Delight, the great divine wrath of our love +Hath stricken off from us the place of the world! +Yea, as we walk in spiritual freedom +Upright before the shining face of God, +Behold, as it were the shadow of our stature +Thrown by that light, we draw the world behind us,-- +That world wherein, darkly I remember, +We thought we were as twain. + +_She_. + Yet, since God means +That love should sunder our fixt separateness +And make our married spirits leap together, +As lightning out of the clouds of sexual flesh, +Into one sexless undivided joy; +Why hath he made us a divided flesh? +We being single ecstasy, now as strange +As if a shadow stained where no one stood +The ground in the noon-glare, seemeth to me +The long blind time wherein our lives and the world +Lay stretcht out dark upon the light of heaven, +Like shadow of some bulk that took the glory; +While yet there stood not over it, to shade +The splendour from it, our heaven-fronting love, +This great new soul that our two souls have kindled. +Yea, and how like, that in the world's chance-medley +This our exulting destiny had been slain, +Though here it lords the world as a man his shadow! + +_He_. +But the world is not chance, except to those +Most feeble in desire: who needeth aught +Shall have it, if he fill his soul with the need. +While still our ignorant lives were drowned beneath +The flooding of the earthly fate, and chance +Seemed pouring mightily dark and loud between us, +Unspeakable news oft visited our hearts: +We knew each other by desire; yea, spake +Out of the strength of darkness flowing o'er us, +Across the hindering outcry of the world +One to another sweet desirable things. +Until at last we took such heavenly lust +Of those unheard messages into our lives, +We were made abler than the worldly fate. +We held its random enmity as frost +The storming Northern seas, and fastened it +In likeness of our love's imagining; +Or as a captain with his courage holds +The mutinous blood of an army aghast with fear, +And maketh it unwillingly dare his purpose, +Our lust of love struck its commandment deep +Into the froward turbulence of world +That parted us. Suddenly the dark noise +Cleft and went backward from us, and we stood +Knowing each other in a quiet light; +And like wise music made of many strings +Following and adoring underneath +Prevailing song, fate lived beneath our love, +Under the masterful excellent silence of it, +A multitudinous obedience. + +_She_. +Yea, but not this my marvel: not that we +Should master with desire the sundering world, +We who bore in our hearts such destiny, +There was no force knew to be dangerous +Against it, but must turn its malice clean +Into obsequious favour worshipping us. +Rather hath this astonisht me, that we +Have not for ever lived in this high hour. +Only to be twin elements of joy +In this extravagance of Being, Love, +Were our divided natures shaped in twain; +And to this hour the whole world must consent. +Is it not very marvellous, our lives +Can only come to this out of a long +Strange sundering, with the years of the world between us? + +_He_. +Shall life do more than God? for hath not God +Striven with himself, when into known delight +His unaccomplisht joy he would put forth,-- +This mystery of a world sign of his striving? +Else wherefore this, a thing to break the mind +With labouring in the wonder of it, that here +Being--the world and we--is suffered to be!-- +But, lying on thy breast one notable day, +Sudden exceeding agony of love +Made my mind a trance of infinite knowledge. +I was not: yet I saw the will of God +As light unfashion'd, unendurable flame, +Interminable, not to be supposed; +And there was no more creature except light,-- +The dreadful burning of the lonely God's +Unutter'd joy. And then, past telling, came +Shuddering and division in the light: +Therein, like trembling, was desire to know +Its own perfect beauty; and it became +A cloven fire, a double flaming, each +Adorable to each; against itself +Waging a burning love, which was the world;-- +A moment satisfied in that love-strife +I knew the world!--And when I fell from there, +Then knew I also what this life would do +In being twain,--in being man and woman! +For it would do even as its endless Master, +Making the world, had done; yea, with itself +Would strive, and for the strife would into sex +Be cloven, double burning, made thereby +Desirable to itself. Contrived joy +Is sex in life; and by no other thing +Than by a perfect sundering, could life +Change the dark stream of unappointed joy +To perfect praise of itself, the glee that loves +And worships its own Being. This is ours! +Yet only for that we have been so long +Sundered desire: thence is our life all praise.-- +But we, well knowing by our strength of joy +There is no sundering more, how far we love +From those sad lives that know a half-love only, +Alone thereby knowing themselves for ever +Sealed in division of love, and therefore made +To pour their strength out always into their love's +Fierceness, as green wood bleeds its hissing sap +Into red heat of a fire! Not so do we: +The cloven anger, life, hath left to wage +Its flame against itself, here turned to one +Self-adoration.--Ah, what comes of this? +The joy falters a moment, with closed wings +Wearying in its upward journey, ere +Again it goes on high, bearing its song, +Its delight breathing and its vigour beating +The highest height of the air above the world. + +_She_. +What hast thou done to me!--I would have soul, +Before I knew thee, Love, a captive held +By flesh. Now, inly delighted with desire, +My body knows itself to be nought else +But thy heart's worship of me; and my soul +Therein is sunlight held by warm gold air. +Nay, all my body is become a song +Upon the breath of spirit, a love-song. + +_He_. +And mine is all like one rapt faculty, +As it were listening to the love in thee, +My whole mortality trembling to take +Thy body like heard singing of thy spirit. + +_She_. +Surely by this, Beloved, we must know +Our love is perfect here,--that not as holds +The common dullard thought, we are things lost +In an amazement that is all unware; +But wonderfully knowing what we are! +Lo, now that body is the song whereof +Spirit is mood, knoweth not our delight? +Knoweth not beautifully now our love, +That Life, here to this festival bid come +Clad in his splendour of worldly day and night, +Filled and empower'd by heavenly lust, is all +The glad imagination of the Spirit? + +_He_. +Were it not so, Love could not be at all: +Nought could be, but a yearning to fulfil +Desire of beauty, by vain reaching forth +Of sense to hold and understand the vision +Made by impassion'd body,--vision of thee! +But music mixt with music are, in love, +Bodily senses; and as flame hath light, +Spirit this nature hath imagined round it, +No way concealed therein, when love comes near, +Nor in the perfect wedding of desires +Suffering any hindrance. + +_She_. + Ah, but now, +Now am I given love's eternal secret! +Yea, thou and I who speak, are but the joy +Of our for ever mated spirits; but now +The wisdom of my gladness even through Spirit +Looks, divinely elate. Who hath for joy +Our Spirits? Who hath imagined them +Round him in fashion'd radiance of desire, +As into light of these exulting bodies +Flaming Spirit is uttered? + +_He_. + Yea, here the end +Of love's astonishment! Now know we Spirit, +And Who, for ease of joy, contriveth Spirit. +Now all life's loveliness and power we have +Dissolved in this one moment, and our burning +Carries all shining upward, till in us +Life is not life, but the desire of God, +Himself desiring and himself accepting. +Now what was prophecy in us is made +Fulfilment: we are the hour and we are the joy, +We in our marvellousness of single knowledge, +Of Spirit breaking down the room of fate +And drawing into his light the greeting fire +Of God,--God known in ecstasy of love +Wedding himself to utterance of himself. + + + + +MARRIAGE SONG + + +I + +Come up, dear chosen morning, come, +Blessing the air with light, +And bid the sky repent of being dark: +Let all the spaces round the world be white, +And give the earth her green again. +Into new hours of beautiful delight, +Out of the shadow where she has lain, +Bring the earth awake for glee, +Shining with dews as fresh and clear +As my beloved's voice upon the air. +For now, O morning chosen of all days, on thee +A wondrous duty lies: +There was an evening that did loveliness foretell; +Thence upon thee, O chosen morn, it fell +To fashion into perfect destiny +The radiant prophecy. +For in an evening of young moon, that went +Filling the moist air with a rosy fire, +I and my beloved knew our love; +And knew that thou, O morning, wouldst arise +To give us knowledge of achieved desire. +For, standing stricken with astonishment, +Half terrified in the delight, +Even as the moon did into clear air move +And made a golden light, +Lo there, croucht up against it, a dark hill, +A monstrous back of earth, a spine +Of hunched rock, furred with great growth of pine, +Lay like a beast, snout in its paws, asleep; +Yet in its sleeping seemed it miserable, +As though strong fear must always keep +Hold of its heart, and drive its blood in dream. +Yea, for to our new love, did it not seem, +That dark and quiet length of hill, +The sleeping grief of the world?--Out of it we +Had like imaginations stept to be +Beauty and golden wonder; and for the lovely fear +Of coming perfect joy, had changed +The terror that dreamt there! +And now the golden moon had turned +To shining white, white as our souls that burned +With vision of our prophecy assured: +Suddenly white was the moon; but she +At once did on a woven modesty +Of cloud, and soon went in obscured: +And we were dark, and vanisht that strange hill. +But yet it was not long before +There opened in the sky a narrow door, +Made with pearl lintel and pearl sill; +And the earth's night seem'd pressing there,-- +All as a beggar on some festival would peer,-- +To gaze into a room of light beyond, +The hidden silver splendour of the moon. +Yea, and we also, we +Long gazed wistfully +Towards thee, O morning, come at last, +And towards the light that thou wilt pour upon us soon! + + +II + +O soul who still art strange to sense, +Who often against beauty wouldst complain, +Doubting between joy and pain: +If like the startling touch of something keen +Against thee, it hath been +To follow from an upland height +The swift sun hunting rain +Across the April meadows of a plain, +Until the fields would flash into the air +Their joyous green, like emeralds alight; +Or when in the blue of night's mid-noon +The burning naked moon +Draws to a brink of cloudy weather near, +A breadth of snow, firm and soft as a wing, +Stretcht out over a wind that gently goes,-- +Through the white sleep of snowy cloud there grows +An azure-border'd shining ring, +The gleaming dream of the approaching joy of her;-- +What now wilt thou do, Soul? What now, +If with such things as these troubled thou wert? +How wilt thou now endure, or how +Not now be strangely hurt?-- +When utter beauty must come closer to thee +Than even anger or fear could be; +When thou, like metal in a kiln, must lie +Seized by beauty's mightily able flame; +Enjoyed by beauty as by the ruthless glee +Of an unescapable power; +Obeying beauty as air obeys a cry; +Yea, one thing made of beauty and thee, +As steel and a white heat are made the same! +--Ah, but I know how this infirmity +Will fail and be not, no, not memory, +When I begin the marvellous hour. +This only is my heart's strain'd eagerness, +Long waiting for its bliss.-- +But from those other fears, from those +That keep to Love so close, +From fears that are the shadow of delight, +Hide me, O joys; make them unknown to-night! + + +III + +Thou bright God that in dream earnest to me last night, +Thou with the flesh made of a golden light, +Knew I not thee, thee and thy heart, +Knew I not well, God, who thou wert? +Yea, and my soul divinely understood +The light that was beneath thee a ground, +The golden light that cover'd thee round, +Turning my sleep to a fiery morn, +Was as a heavenly oath there sworn +Promising me an immortal good: +Well I knew thee, God of Marriages, thee and thy flame! +Ah, but wherefore beside thee came +That fearful sight of another mood? +Why in thy light, to thy hand chained, +Towards me its bondage terribly strained, +Why came with thee that dreadful hound, +The wild hound Fear, black, ravenous and gaunt? +Why him with thee should thy dear light surround? +Why broughtest thou that beast to haunt +The blissful footsteps of my golden dream?-- +All shadowy black the body dread, +All frenzied fire the head,-- +The hunger of its mouth a hollow crimson flame, +The hatred in its eyes a blaze +Fierce and green, stabbing the ruddy glaze, +And sharp white jetting fire the teeth snarl'd at me, +And white the dribbling rage of froth,-- +A throat that gaped to bay and paws working violently, +Yet soundless all as a winging moth; +Tugging towards me, famishing for my heart;-- +Even while thou, O golden god, wert still +Looking the beautiful kindness of thy will +Into my soul, even then must I be, +With thy bright promise looking at me, +Then bitterly of that hound afraid?-- +Darkness, I know, attendeth bright, +And light comes not but shadow comes: +And heart must know, if it know thy light, +Thy wild hound Fear, the shadow of love's delight. +Yea, is it thus? Are we so made +Of death and darkness, that even thou, +O golden God of the joys of love, +Thy mind to us canst only prove, +The glorious devices of thy mind, +By so revealing how thy journeying here +Through this mortality, doth closely bind +Thy brightness to the shadow of dreadful Fear?-- +Ah no, it shall not be! Thy joyous light +Shall hide me from the hunger of fear to-night. + + +IV + +For wonderfully to live I now begin: +So that the darkness which accompanies +Our being here, is fasten'd up within +The power of light that holdeth me; +And from these shining chains, to see +My joy with bold misliking eyes, +The shrouded figure will not dare arise. +For henceforth, from to-night, +I am wholly gone into the bright +Safety of the beauty of love: +Not only all my waking vigours plied +Under the searching glory of love, +But knowing myself with love all satisfied +Even when my life is hidden in sleep; +As high clouds, to themselves that keep +The moon's white company, are all possest +Silverly with the presence of their guest; +Or as a darken'd room +That hath within it roses, whence the air +And quietness are taken everywhere +Deliciously by sweet perfume. + + + + +EPILOGUE + + + + +EPILOGUE + + +What shall we do for Love these days? +How shall we make an altar-blaze +To smite the horny eyes of men +With the renown of our Heaven, +And to the unbelievers prove +Our service to our dear god, Love? +What torches shall we lift above +The crowd that pushes through the mire, +To amaze the dark heads with strange fire? +I should think I were much to blame, +If never I held some fragrant flame +Above the noises of the world, +And openly 'mid men's hurrying stares, +Worshipt before the sacred fears +That are like flashing curtains furl'd +Across the presence of our lord Love. +Nay, would that I could fill the gaze +Of the whole earth with some great praise +Made in a marvel for men's eyes, +Some tower of glittering masonries, +Therein such a spirit flourishing +Men should see what my heart can sing: +All that Love hath done to me +Built into stone, a visible glee; +Marble carried to gleaming height +As moved aloft by inward delight; +Not as with toil of chisels hewn, +But seeming poised in a mighty tune. +For of all those who have been known +To lodge with our kind host, the sun, +I envy one for just one thing: +In Cordova of the Moors +There dwelt a passion-minded King, +Who set great bands of marble-hewers +To fashion his heart's thanksgiving +In a tall palace, shapen so +All the wondering world might know +The joy he had of his Moorish lass. +His love, that brighter and larger was +Than the starry places, into firm stone +He sent, as if the stone were glass +Fired and into beauty blown. + Solemn and invented gravely +In its bulk the fabric stood, +Even as Love, that trusteth bravely +In its own exceeding good +To be better than the waste +Of time's devices; grandly spaced, +Seriously the fabric stood. +But over it all a pleasure went +Of carven delicate ornament, +Wreathing up like ravishment, +Mentioning in sculptures twined +The blitheness Love hath in his mind; +And like delighted senses were +The windows, and the columns there +Made the following sight to ache +As the heart that did them make. +Well I can see that shining song +Flowering there, the upward throng +Of porches, pillars and windowed walls, +Spires like piercing panpipe calls, +Up to the roof's snow-cloud flight; +All glancing in the Spanish light +White as water of arctic tides, +Save an amber dazzle on sunny sides. +You had said, the radiant sheen +Of that palace might have been +A young god's fantasy, ere he came +His serious worlds and suns to frame; +Such an immortal passion +Quiver'd among the slim hewn stone. +And in the nights it seemed a jar +Cut in the substance of a star, +Wherein a wine, that will be poured +Some time for feasting Heaven, was stored. + But within this fretted shell, +The wonder of Love made visible, +The King a private gentle mood +There placed, of pleasant quietude. +For right amidst there was a court, +Where always musked silences +Listened to water and to trees; +And herbage of all fragrant sort,-- +Lavender, lad's-love, rosemary, +Basil, tansy, centaury,-- +Was the grass of that orchard, hid +Love's amazements all amid. +Jarring the air with rumour cool, +Small fountains played into a pool +With sound as soft as the barley's hiss +When its beard just sprouting is; +Whence a young stream, that trod on moss, +Prettily rimpled the court across. +And in the pool's clear idleness, +Moving like dreams through happiness, +Shoals of small bright fishes were; +In and out weed-thickets bent +Perch and carp, and sauntering went +With mounching jaws and eyes a-stare; +Or on a lotus leaf would crawl, +A brinded loach to bask and sprawl, +Tasting the warm sun ere it dipt +Into the water; but quick as fear +Back his shining brown head slipt +To crouch on the gravel of his lair, +Where the cooled sunbeams broke in wrack, +Spilt shatter'd gold about his back. + So within that green-veiled air, +Within that white-walled quiet, where +Innocent water thought aloud,-- +Childish prattle that must make +The wise sunlight with laughter shake +On the leafage overbowed,-- +Often the King and his love-lass +Let the delicious hours pass. +All the outer world could see +Graved and sawn amazingly +Their love's delighted riotise, +Fixt in marble for all men's eyes; +But only these twain could abide +In the cool peace that withinside +Thrilling desire and passion dwelt; +They only knew the still meaning spelt +By Love's flaming script, which is +God's word written in ecstasies. + +And where is now that palace gone, +All the magical skill'd stone, +All the dreaming towers wrought +By Love as if no more than thought +The unresisting marble was? +How could such a wonder pass? +Ah, it was but built in vain +Against the stupid horns of Rome, +That pusht down into the common loam +The loveliness that shone in Spain. +But we have raised it up again! +A loftier palace, fairer far, +Is ours, and one that fears no war. +Safe in marvellous walls we are; +Wondering sense like builded fires, +High amazement of desires, +Delight and certainty of love, +Closing around, roofing above +Our unapproacht and perfect hour +Within the splendours of love's power. + + + + +_The "Hymn to Love" +is reprinted by permission from "The Vineyard."_ + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Emblems Of Love, by Lascelles Abercrombie + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EMBLEMS OF LOVE *** + +***** This file should be named 15472.txt or 15472.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/4/7/15472/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Keren Vergon, S.R. 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