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diff --git a/old/53642-0.txt b/old/53642-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0460c6d..0000000 --- a/old/53642-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2770 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Two Mothers, by John Gneisenau Neihardt - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Two Mothers - -Author: John Gneisenau Neihardt - -Release Date: December 1, 2016 [EBook #53642] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO MOTHERS *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - TWO MOTHERS - - - BY - JOHN G. NEIHARDT - - - THE SPLENDID WAYFARING - THE SONG OF THREE FRIENDS - THE SONG OF HUGH GLASS - THE QUEST - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TWO MOTHERS - - - BY - JOHN G. NEIHARDT - - - New York - THE MACMILLAN COMPANY - 1921 - - _All rights reserved_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1913 - BY POETRY: A MAGAZINE OF VERSE - - COPYRIGHT, 1915 - BY THE FORUM - - COPYRIGHT, 1921, - BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY - - - Set up and electrotyped. Published, January, 1921 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - TO - - ALICE AND MONA - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - EIGHT HUNDRED RUBLES 3 - - AGRIPPINA 27 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - EIGHT HUNDRED RUBLES - - - GIRL’S SONG - - NOBLE KREIDER - - [Music] - - The heart’s an open inn, - And from the four winds fare.... - Vagrants blind with care, - Waifs that limp with sin; - Ghosts of what has been,... - Wraiths of what may be:... - But One shall bring the sacred gift - And which ... is He? - - And with their wounds of care - And with their scars of sin.... - All these shall en-ter in - To find a welcome there; - And he who gives with prayer - Shall be the richer host:... - For surely unto him shall come - The Holy Ghost. - - The last stanza same as second except in second “‘Tis he” at close - of stanza take “he” on C for end. - - - - - TWO MOTHERS - - - - - EIGHT HUNDRED RUBLES - - - _The combined living room and kitchen of a peasant house. Before an - open fire, where supper is in preparation, stoops a girl of about - sixteen. It is evening and dusk is growing. Vines hang outside and - the light of a rising moon comes through the window._ - - GIRL - - (_Singing._) - - The heart’s an open inn, - And from the four winds fare - Vagrants blind with care, - Waifs that limp with sin; - Ghosts of what has been, - Wraiths of what may be: - But one shall bring the sacred gift— - And which is he? - - And with their wounds of care - And with their scars of sin, - All these shall enter in - To find a welcome there; - And he who gives with prayer - Shall be the richer host; - For surely unto him shall come - The Holy Ghost. - - (_Ceases singing and stares into the fire._) - - What if he’d vanish like a dream one keeps - No more than starshine when the morning breaks! - I’ll look again. - - (_Arises, goes softly to the open window and looks out into the - garden._) - - How peacefully he sleeps! - The red rose shields him from the moon that makes - The garden like a witch-tale whispered low. - He came a stranger, yet he is not strange; - For O, how often I have dreamed it so, - Until a sudden, shivering gust of change - Went over things, making the cow-sheds flare - On fire with splendor while one might count three, - And riding swiftly down the populous air, - Prince-like he came for me. - There were no banners when he really came, - No clatter of brave steel chafing in the sheath, - No trumpets blown to hoarseness with his fame. - Silently trudging over the dusky heath, - Clad in a weave of twilight, shod with dew, - Weary he came and hungry to the door. - The lifting latch made music, and I knew - My prince was dream no more. - - (_Sings low._) - - O weary heart and sore, - O yearning eyes that blur, - A hand that drips with myrrh - Is knocking at the door! - The waiting time is o’er, - Be glad, look up and see - How splendid is a dream come true— - ‘Tis he! ‘Tis he! - - (_During the latter part of the song, the back door opens and the - father and mother enter, stooped beneath heavy packs._) - - MOTHER - - - What’s this, eh? Howling like a dog in heat, - Snout to the moon! And not a bite to eat, - And the pot scorching like the devil’s pit! - Bestir yourself there, will you! Here you sit - Tra-la-ing while the supper goes to rack, - And your old father like to break his back, - Tramping from market! - - - FATHER - - - Tut, tut! Girls must sing, - And one burned supper is a little thing - In seventy creeping years. - - - MOTHER - - - Ah, there it goes! - My hunger makes no difference, I suppose! - Tra-la, tut tut, and I can slave and slave - Until my nose seems sniffing for a grave, - I’m bent so—and it’s little that you care! - - - GIRL - - (_Who has arisen from window and regards her mother as in a dream._) - - Hush, Mother dear, you’ll wake him! - - - MOTHER - - - Wake him? Where? - Who sleeps that should not wake? Are you bewitched? - Hush me again, and you’ll be soundly switched! - As though I were a work brute to be dumb! - I’ll talk my fill! - - - GIRL - - - O Mother, he has come—— - - - MOTHER - - (_Her body straightening slightly from its habitual stoop_) - - Eh? Who might come that I would care to know - Since Ivan left?—He’s dead. - - - FATHER - - - Aye, years ago, - And stubborn grieving is a foolish sin. - - - MOTHER - - (_With the old weary voice._) - - One’s head runs empty and the ghosts get in - When one is old and stooped. - - (_Peevishly to the girl._) - - Bestir yourself! - Lay plates and light the candles on the shelf. - No corpse lies here that it should be so dark. - - _(Girl, moving as in a trance, lights candles with a brand from the - fireplace. Often she glances expectantly at the window. The place - is fully illumined._) - - What ails the hussy? - - - FATHER - - - ‘Tis a crazy lark - Sings in her head all day. Don’t be too rough. - Come twenty winters, ‘twill be still enough, - God knows! - - - MOTHER - - (_At the fireplace._) - - I heard no larks sing at her age. - They put me in the field to earn a wage - And be some use in the world. - - (_To girl._) - - What! Dawdling yet? - I’ll lark you in a way you won’t forget, - Come forty winters! Speak! What do you mean? - - - GIRL - - (_Still staring at the window and speaking dreamily as to herself._) - - Up from the valley creeps the loving green - Until the loneliest hill-top is a bride. - - - MOTHER - - - The girl’s gone daft! - - - FATHER - - - ‘Tis vapors. Let her bide. - She’s weaving bride-veils with a woof of the moon, - And every wind’s a husband. All too soon - She’ll stitch at grave-clothes in a stuff more stern. - - - GIRL - - (_Arousing suddenly._) - - I’m sorry that I let the supper burn— - ‘Tis all so sweet, I scarce know what I do— - He came—— - - - MOTHER - - - Who came? - - - GIRL - - - A stranger that I knew; - And he was weary, so I took him in - And gave him supper, thinking ‘twere a sin - That anyone should want and be denied. - And while he ate, the place seemed glorified, - As though it were the Saviour sitting there! - It could not be the sunset bound his hair - Briefly with golden haloes—made his eyes - Such depths to gaze in with a dumb surprise - While one blinked thrice!—Then suddenly it passed, - And he was some old friend returned at last - After long years. - - - MOTHER - - - A pretty tale, indeed! - And so it was our supper went to feed - A sneaking ne’er-do-well, a shiftless scamp! - - - GIRL - - - O Mother, wasn’t Jesus Christ a tramp? - - - MOTHER - - - Hush, will you! hush! ‘Tis plain the Devil’s here! - To think my only child should live to jeer - At holy things! - - - FATHER - - - Come, don’t abuse the maid. - They say He was a carpenter by trade, - Yet no one ever saw the house He built. - - - MOTHER - - - So! Shield the minx! Make nothing of her guilt, - And let the Devil get her—as he will! - I’ll hold my tongue and work, and eat my fill - From what the beggars leave, for all you care! - Quick! Where’s this scoundrel? - - - GIRL - - - ‘Sh! He’s sleeping there - Out in the garden. - - (_Shows a gold piece._) - - Mother, see, he paid - So much more than he owed us, I’m afraid. - We lose in taking, profit what we give. - - - MOTHER - - (_Taking the coin._) - - What! Gold? A clever bargain, as I live! - It’s five times what the fowls brought!—Not so bad! - And yet—I’ll wager ‘tis not all he had— - Eh? - - - GIRL - - - No—eight hundred rubles in a sack! - - - MOTHER - - - Eight—hundred—rubles! Yet the times are slack, - And coins don’t spawn like fishes, Goodness knows! - I’ll warrant he’s some thief that comes and goes - About the country with a ready smile - And that soft speech that is the Devil’s guile, - Nosing out hoards that reek with honest sweat! - Ha, ha—there’s little here that he can get. - - (_Goes to window softly, peers out, then closes the casement._) - - Eight—hundred—rubles— - - - GIRL - - - Mother, had you heard - How loving kindness spoke in every word, - You could not doubt him. O, his eyes were mild, - And there were heavens in them when he smiled! - - - MOTHER - - - Satan can outsmile God. - - - GIRL - - - No, no, I’m sure - He brought some gift of good that shall endure - And be a blessing to us! - - - MOTHER - - - So indeed! - Eight—hundred—rubles—with the power to breed - Litters of copecks till one need not work! - Eight hundred hundred backaches somehow lurk - In that snug wallet. - - (_To the father._) - - What’s the thing to do? - - - FATHER - - - It would be pleasant with a pot of brew - To talk until the windows glimmer pale. - ‘Tis good to harken to a traveller’s tale - Of things far off where almost no one goes. - - - MOTHER - - - As well to parley with a wind that blows - Across fat fields, yet has no grain to share. - Rubles are rubles, and a tale is air. - I’ll have the rubles! - - - GIRL - - (_Aghast._) - - Mother! Mother dear! - What if ‘twere Ivan sleeping far from here, - And some one else should do this sinful deed! - - - MOTHER - - - Had they not taken my son, I should not need - Eight hundred rubles now! The world’s made wrong, - And I’ll not live to vex it very long. - Who work should take their wages where they can. - It should have been my boy come back a man, - With this same goodly hoard to bring us cheer. - Now let some other mother peer and peer - At her own window through a blurring pane, - And see the world go out in salty rain, - And start at every gust that shakes the door! - What does a green girl know? You never bore - A son that you should prate of wrong and right! - I tell you, I have wakened in the night, - Feeling his milk-teeth sharp upon my breast, - And for one aching moment I was blest, - Until I minded that ‘twas years ago - These flattened paps went milkless—and I know! - - - GIRL - - - O Mother! ‘twould be sin! - - - MOTHER - - - Sin! What is that— - When all the world prowls like a hungry cat, - Mousing the little that could make us glad? - - - FATHER - - - Don’t be forever grieving for the lad. - ‘Twas hard, but there are troubles worse than death. - Let’s eat and think it over. - - - MOTHER - - - Save your breath, - Or share your empty prate with one another! - One moment makes a father, but a mother - Is made by endless moments, load on load. - - (_Pause: then to girl._) - - I left a bundle three bends down the road. - Go fetch it. - - - GIRL - - (_Pleadingly._) - - Mother, promise not to do - This awful thing you think. - - - MOTHER - - (_Seizing a stick from the fireplace._) - - I’ll promise you, - And pay in welts—you simpering hussy! - - (_The girl flees through back door. After a pause the woman turns to - the man._) - - —Well? - Eight hundred rubles, and no tale to tell— - The fresh earth strewn with leaves—is that the plan? - - - FATHER - - (_Startled._) - - Eh?—That?—You mean—You would not kill a man? - Not that! - - - MOTHER - - - Eight—hundred—rubles. - - - FATHER - - - It is much. - Old folk might hobble far with less for crutch— - But murder!—Rubles spent are rubles still—Blood - squandered—‘tis a fearsome thing to kill! - I know what rubles cost—they all come hard, - But life’s the dearer. - - - MOTHER - - - Kill a hog for lard, - A thief for gold—one reason and one knife! - I tell you, gold is costlier than life! - What price shall we have brought when we are gone? - When Ivan died, the heartless world went on - Breeding more sons that men might still be cheap. - And who but I had any tears to weep? - I mind ‘twas April when the tale was brought - That he’d been lost at sea. I thought and thought - About the way all things were mad to breed— - One big hot itch to suckle or bear seed— - And my boy dead! - Life costly?—Cheap as mud! - You want the rubles, sicken at the blood, - You grey old limping coward! - - - FATHER - - - Come now, Mother! - I’d kill to live as lief as any other. - You women don’t weigh matters like a man. - I like the gold—‘tis true—but not the plan. - Why not put pebbles where the rubles were, - Then send him forth? - - - MOTHER - - - And set the place a-whir - With a wind of tongues! I tell you, we must kill! - No tale dies harder than a tale of ill. - Once buried, he will tell none. - - - FATHER - - - Let me think— - I’ll go down to the tavern for a drink - To whet my wits—belike the dread will pass. - - (_He goes out through the back door, shaking his head in - perplexity_) - - MOTHER - - (_Alone._) - - He’ll find a coward’s courage in his glass— - Enough to dig a hole when he comes back. - - (_She goes to shelf and snuffs the candles. The moon shines brightly - through the window and the firelight glows. She takes a knife from - a table drawer, feels the edge; goes to the window and peers out; - turns about, uneasily scanning the room, then moves toward the - side door, muttering._) - - Eight hundred shining rubles in a sack! - - (_She goes out softly and closes the door. A cry is heard as of one - in a nightmare. After a considerable interval the mother reënters - with a small bag which she is opening with nervous fingers. The - moonlight falls upon her. Now and then she endeavors to shake - something from her hands, which she finally wipes on her apron, - muttering the while._) - - When folks get rich they find their fingers dirty. - - (_She counts the coins in silence for awhile, then aloud._) - - Eight and twenty—nine and twenty—thirty— - - (_Clutching a handful of gold, she suddenly stops counting and - stares at the back door. There is the sound of rapidly approaching - footsteps. The door flies open and the old man enters excitedly._) - - FATHER - - - Mother! Mother! Wake him! Wake him—quick! - ‘Tis Ivan with an old-time, merry trick— - They told me at the tavern—‘tis our son! - - (_Rushes toward the side door._) - - Ivan! Ivan! - - (_Stops abruptly, aghast at the look of the woman. The coins jangle - on the floor_) - - God! What have you done! - - (_As the curtain falls, the singing voice of the returning girl is - heard nearer and nearer._) - - GIRL - - (_Outside._) - - O weary heart and sore, - O yearning eyes that blur, - A hand that drips with myrrh - Is knocking at the door! - The waiting time is o’er, - Be glad, look up and see - How splendid is a dream come true— - ‘Tis he! ‘tis he! - - - - - AGRIPPINA - - - (_The courtyard of the Imperial villa at Baiae. A moonlit night in - late March. Occupying the left half of background is seen a - portion of the villa. A short, broad flight of steps leads through - the arched doorway to a pillared hall beyond, vague, but seeming - vast in the uncertain lights that flicker in the draught. To the - right of the doorway is a broad open window at the height of a - mans head from the courtyard. An urn stands near window in the - shadow to the right. From within harp music is heard threading the - buzzing merriment of a banquet that is being given to celebrate - Nero’s reconciliation with his mother. To the right of stage a - glimpse of the moonlit sea is caught through trees._) - - (_Enter from left walking toward the sea, Anicetus and the Captain - of a galley._) - - CAPTAIN - - (_Pointing toward sea._) - - Yon lies the galley weltering in the moon. - A fair ship!—like a lady in a swoon - Of languid passion. Never fairer craft - Flung the green rustle of her skirts abaft - And wooed the dwindling leagues! - - - ANICETUS - - - A boat’s a boat! - And were she thrice the fairest keel afloat - Tonight she founders, sinks—make sure of that! - - - CAPTAIN - - - And all to drown one lean imperial cat - With claws and teeth too sharp despite the purr! - Ah, scan the graceful woman lines of her! - Fit for the male Wind’s love is she—alas! - Scuttled and buried in a sea of glass - By her own master! It will cost me pain. - Better a night of lightning-riven rain - With hell-hounds baying in the driven gloom! - - - ANICETUS - - - The will of Nero is her wind of doom— - Woe to the seaman who defies that gale! - Go now—make ready that we may not fail - To crown the wish of Caesar with the deed. - - - CAPTAIN - - - Aye, Master! - - (_Exit Captain toward sea._) - - ANICETUS - - - And no brazen wound shall bleed - Red scandal over Rome; the nosing mob - Shall sniff no poison. Just a gulping sob - And some few bubbles breaking on the swell— - Then, good night, Agrippina, rest you well! - And may the gods revamp the silly fish - With guts of brass for coping with that dish! - - (_A muffled outburst of laughter in banquet hall. Anicetus turns - toward window. Uproar dies out._) - - They’re drinking deep—the banquet’s at its height - And all therein are kings and queens tonight. - - (_Goes to urn, mounts it and peers in at window._) - - A merry crew! Quite drunk, quite drunk I fear, - My noble Romans!—Burrus’ eyes are blear! - One goblet hence, good Burrus, you will howl! - E’en Seneca sits staring like an owl - And strives to pilot in some heavy sea - That wisdom-laden boat, his head. Ah me, - Creperius Gallus, you are floundering deep - In red Falernian bogs, so you shall sleep - Quite soundly while your mistress takes the dip! - Fair Acerronia thinks the place a ship - And greenly sickens in the dizzy roll! - There broods Poppaea, certain of her goal, - Her veil a sea-fog clutching at the moon, - A portent to wise sailors! Very soon - The sea shall wake in hunger and be fed! - She smiles!—the glimmer on a thunderhead - That vomits ruin!—What has made her smile? - Ah, Nero’s wine is sugared well with guile! - So—kiss your mother—gently fondle her— - Pet the old she-cat till she mew and purr - Unto the tender hand that strokes her back: - So shall there be no sniffing at the sack! - Would that her eyes, like his, with wine were dim! - Gods! What a tragic actor died in him - To make a comic Caesar! - I surmise - By the too rheumy nature of your eyes, - Divine imperial Nero, and their sunk - Lugubrious aspect—pardon!—but you’re drunk, - Drunk as a lackey when the master’s out! - O kingly tears that down that regal snout - Pour salty love upon a mother’s breast! - So shall her timid doubts be lulled to rest! - - (_Bustle within as of many rising to their feet._) - - They rise! The prologue’s ended—now the play! - - (_He gets down from urn and goes off toward sea._) - - HERALDS - - (_Crying within._) - - Make way for Caesar! Ho! - Make way! Make way! - - (_The musicians within strike up a martial strain. After a few - moments, within the hall appear Nero and Agrippina, arm in arm, - approaching the flight of steps. Nero is robed in a tunic of the - color of amethyst, with a winged harp embroidered on the front. He - is crowned with a laurel wreath, now askew in his disordered hair. - Agrippina wears a robe of maroon without decoration. Nero - endeavors to preserve the semblance of supporting his mother, but - in fact is supported by her, while he caresses her with - considerable extravagance. They pause half way down the steps, and - the music within changes to a low melancholy air._) - - AGRIPPINA - - (_Lifting her face to the moon seaward._) - - How fair a moon to crown our happy revel! - - - NERO - - (_Gazing blankly at the moon._) - - Eh? Veil the hussy! - - - AGRIPPINA - - - Son, son! - - - NERO - - - She’s a devil! - - - AGRIPPINA - - (_Placing a loving arm closer about Nero._) - - Just such a night ‘twas, Lucius—you remember?— - When Claudius’ spirit like a smouldering ember - Struggled ‘twixt flame and ash—do you forget? - - - NERO - - - Ha ha—‘twas snuffed—ho ho! - - - AGRIPPINA - - (_Stroking his hair._) - - ‘Twas then I set - The imperial circlet here; ‘twas then I cloaked - My boy with world-robes! - - - NERO - - (_Still staring at moon and pointing unsteadily._) - - Have that vixen choked! - Her staring makes me stagger—where’s her veil? - - - AGRIPPINA - - - It all comes back like an enchanted tale— - The moon set and the sun rose— - - - NERO - - - Dead and gone— - The sun set and the moon rose— - - - AGRIPPINA - - - Nay, at dawn - The blear flame died, the new flame blossomed up. - - - NERO - - - Did someone drop a poison in my cup? - The windless sea crawls moaning— - - (_They move slowly down stairs, Nero clinging to his mother._) - - AGRIPPINA - - - Son of mine, - Cast off the evil humors of the wine! - I am so happy and was so forlorn! - Ah, not another night since you were born - Has flung such purple through me! Son—at last - The haggard hours that parted us are past; - I’ve wept my tears and have no more to shed! - I live—I live—I live! And I was dead. - - - NERO - - (_Clinging closer._) - - Dead—dead—what ails the sea—‘tis going red— - - (_Laughter in banquet hall._) - - Who’s laughing?—Mother—scourge them from the place! - Who gave the moon Poppaea’s dizzy face - To scare the sea? - - - AGRIPPINA - - - Your message gave me life! - Ah, Lucius, not for us to mar with strife - A world so made for loving! - Lucius dear, - I was too harsh, perhaps; the fault is here. - - (_Places hand on heart._) - - NERO - - (_Staring into his mother’s eyes._) - - Too harsh perhaps— - - - AGRIPPINA - - - Yea, so we mothers err: - Too long we see our babies as they were, - And last of all the world confess them tall. - They stride so far—we shudder lest they fall— - They toddle yet. - And she who bears a son - Shall be two women ever after; one - The fountain of a seaward cooing stream, - And one the shrouded virgin of a dream - Whom no man wooes, whose heart, a muted lyre, - Pines with a wild but unconfessed desire - For him who—never understands, my son! - I’ll be all fountain—kill that other one! - - - NERO - - - That other one— - - - AGRIPPINA - - - Oh, like a wind of Spring - Wooing the sere grave of a buried thing, - Your summons came! Such happy tendrils creep - Out of me, in that old ache rooted deep, - To blossom sunward greener for the sorrow. - And, O my Emperor, if on the morrow - Your heart could soften toward that gentle one, - That frail white lily pining for the sun, - Octavia, your patient little wife, - Smile, smile upon that flower and give it life! - Make of my Lucius emperor in truth, - Not Passion’s bondman! - ‘Tis the way of youth - To drive wild stallions with too slack a rein - Toward fleeing goals no fleetness can attain! - Oh splendid speed that fails for lack of fear! - The grip of iron makes the charioteer! - The lyric fury heeds the master beat - And is the freer for its shackled feet! - You who are Law shall be more free than others - By seeming less so, Lucius. - - - NERO - - - Best of mothers, - Tomorrow—yes, tomorrow—Mother, stay! - You must not go so far, so far away! - - - AGRIPPINA - - - Only to Bauli. - - (_They have reached the extreme right of stage. The guests now begin - to come out of banquet hall, scattering a rippling laughter. Nero - is aroused by the merry sound, looks back, gathers himself - together with a start._) - - NERO - - - Ah! The moon is bright! - The sea is still! We’ll banquet every night, - Shall we not, Mother? - Certain cares of state - Weigh heavily—‘tis awful to be great— - Nay, terrible at times! Can I be ill? - It seemed the sea moaned—yet ‘tis very still! - Mother, my Mother—kiss me! Let us go - Down to the galley—so. - - (_They pass out toward the sea, Nero caressing his mother. The - guests now throng down the steps into the courtyard. They are in - various states of intoxication. Many are dressed to represent - mythological figures: Fauns and Satyrs; Bacchus crowned with grape - leaves, wearing a leopard skin on his shoulders; six Bacchantes; - Psyche with wings; Luna in a spangled tunic with silver horns in - her hair; Mercury with winged sandals and the caduceus; Neptune in - an emerald robe, crowned and bearing the trident; Iris, - rainbow-clad; Silenus. Some are dressed in brilliant oriental - garments. There are Senators in broad bordered togas with half - moons embroidered on their sandals; Pages dressed as Cupids and - infant Bacchi; Officers of the Praetorian Guard in military - uniform. Turbaned, half nude Numidian slaves, with bronze rings in - their ears, come trotting in with litters, attended by - torchbearers. Some of the guests depart in the litters. The music - continues in banquet hall._) - - NEPTUNE - - (_Staggering against Luna._) - - Who’d be a sailor when great Neptune staggers - Dashed in the Moon’s face!—Calm me, gentle Luna, - And silver me with kisses! - - - LUNA - - (_Fleeing from his outstretched arms, but regarding him invitingly - over her shoulder._) - - Fie, you wine-skin! - A hiccough’s not a tempest! Lo, I glide, - Treading a myriad stars! - - (_Neptune follows with a rolling gait._) - - A SATYR - - (_Looking after them as they disappear._) - - Roll, eager Tide! - Methinks ere long the wooing moon shall fall! - - (_Those near laugh._) - - FIRST SENATOR - - (_To Second Senator._) - - Was Nero acting, think you? - - - SECOND SENATOR - - - Not at all. - ‘Twas staged, no doubt, but— - - - FIRST SENATOR - - - Softly, lest they hear! - - - SECOND SENATOR - - - The mimic is in mimicry sincere— - The rôle absorbed the actor. So he wept. - - (_They pass on, talking low._) - - A PRAETORIAN OFFICER - - (_To Psyche leaning on his arm._) - - Was it a vision, Psyche? Have I slept? - By the pink-nippled Cyprian, I swear - Our Caesar knows a woman! Gods! That hair! - Spun from the bowels of Ophir! - - - PSYCHE - - - Who’s so fair? - - - PRAETORIAN - - - Poppaea! - - - PSYCHE - - - She?—A Circe, queen of hogs! - A cross-road Hecate, bayed at by the dogs! - A morbid Itch— - - - PRAETORIAN - - - Sh! - - - PSYCHE - - - —strutting in a cloak - Of what she has not, virtue! - - - PRAETORIAN - - - Ha! You joke! - All cloaks are ruses, fashioned to reveal - What all possess, pretending to conceal— - Who’d love a Psyche else? - - (_They pass on._) - - IRIS - - (_To a Satyr who supports her._) - - A clever wile - Her veil is! Ah, we women must beguile - The stupid male by seeming to withhold - What’s dross, displayed, but, guarded well, is gold! - Faugh! Hunger sells it and the carter buys! - - - SATYR - - - Consume me with the lightning of her eyes! - She’s Aphrodite! - - - IRIS - - - Helen! - - - SATYR - - - Helen, then! - A peep behind that veil, and once again - The sword-flung music of the fighting men, - Voluptuous ruin and wild battle joy, - The swooning ache and rapture that was Troy! - Delirious doom! - - - IRIS - - (_Laughing._) - - O Sorcery of Night! - We’re all one woman in the morning light! - - - SATYR - - (_Laughing._) - - You’re jealous! - - - IRIS - - - No, I rend the veil in twain! - - (They mingle with the throng.) - - SILENUS - - (_To a Naval Officer._) - - The wind veers and the moon seems on the wane! - What bodes it—reinstatement for the Queen? - - - NAVAL OFFICER - - - No seaman knows the wind and moon you mean; - Yet land were safer when those signs concur! - - (_They pass on._) - - MERCURY - - (_To a Bacchante._) - - ‘Twould rouse compassion in a toad, and stir - A wild boar’s heart with pity! - - - BACCHANTE - - (_Placing a warning hand on his mouth._) - - Hush! Beware! - - - MERCURY - - - Could you not feel the hidden gorgon stare - The venom of her laughter dripping slow? - - (_The musicians from within, having followed the departing throng - from the banquet hall, and having stationed themselves on the - steps, now strike up a wild Bacchic air._) - - BACCHUS - - (_Swinging into the dance._) - - Bacchantes, wreathe the dance! - - - BACCHANTES - - (_From various parts of the throng._) - - Io, Bacche! Io! - - (_Pirouetting to the music, they assemble, circling about Bacchus, - joining hands and singing. When the song is finished, the circle - breaks, the dancers wheel, facing outward. Bacchus endeavors to - kiss a Bacchante who regards him with head thrown back. The dance - music becomes more abandoned, and the Bacchante flees, pursued by - Bacchus, who reels as he dances. All the other Bacchantes follow, - weaving in and out between pursuer and pursued. The throng - laughingly makes way for them. At length the pursued Bacchante - flings off in a mad whirl toward the grove in the background, - followed by Bacchus and the Bacchantes. Fauns and Satyrs now take - up the dance and join in the pursuit. The throng follows eagerly, - enjoying the spectacle. All disappear among the trees. Laughter in - the distance, growing dimmer. The musicians withdraw into the - villa and disappear, their music dying out. The lights go out in - the banquet hall. The stage is now lit by the moon alone, save for - the draughty lamps within the pillared hall._ - - _After a period of silence, re-enter Nero, walking backward from the - direction of the sea toward which he gazes._) - - NERO - - - Dimmer—dimmer—dimmer— - A shadow melting in a moony shimmer - Down the bleak seaways dwindling to that shore - Where no heaved anchor drips forevermore - Nor winds breathe music in the homing sail: - But over sunless hill and fruitless vale, - Gaunt spectres drag the age-long discontent - And ponder what this brief, bright moment meant— - The loving—and the dreaming—and the laughter. - Ah, ships that vanish take what never after - Returning ships may carry. - Dawn shall flare, - Make bloom the terraced gardens of the air - For all the world but Lucius. He shall see - The haunted hollow of Infinity - Gray in the twilight of a heart’s eclipse. - With our own wishes woven into whips - The jealous gods chastise us!—I’m alone! - About the transient brilliance of my throne - The giddy moths flit briefly in the glow; - But when at last that light shall flicker low, - A taper guttering in a gust of doom, - What hand shall grope for Nero’s in the gloom, - What fond eyes shed the fellows of his tears? - She bore her heart these many troublous years - Before me, like a shield. And she is dead. - Her hand ‘twas set the crown upon my head; - Her heart’s blood dyed the kingly robe for me. - Dank seaweed crowns her, and the bitter sea - Enshrouds with realmless purple! - Round and round, - Swirled in the endless nightmare of the drowned, - Her fond soul gropes for something vaguely dear - That lures, eludes forever. Shapes that leer, - Distorted Neros of a tortured sleep, - Cry “_Mother, come to Baiae_.” Deep on deep - The green death folds her and she can not come. - Vague, gaping mouths that hunger and are dumb - Mumble the tired heart so ripe with woe, - Where night is but a black wind breathing low - And daylight filters like a ghostly rain! - _O Mother! Mother! Mother!_— - - (_With arms extended, he stares seaward a moment, then covers his - face, turns, and walks slowly toward entrance of villa._) - - Vain, ‘tis vain! - How shall one move an ocean with regret? - - (_He has reached the steps and pauses._) - - Ah, one hope lives in all this bleakness yet. - Song!—Mighty Song the hurt of life assuages! - This fateful night shall fill the vaulted ages - With starry grief, and men unborn shall sing - The mournful measure of the Ancient King! - I’ll write an ode! - - (_He stands for a moment, glorified with the thought._) - - Great heart of Nero, strung - Harplike, endure till this last song be sung, - Then break—then break— - - (_Turns and mounts the steps._) - - Oh Fate, to be a bard! - The way is hard, the way is very hard! - - (_A dim outburst of laughter from the revellers in the distance._) - - - II - - (_The same night. Nero’s private chamber in his villa at Baiae. Nero - is discovered asleep in his state robes on a couch, where he has - evidently thrown himself down, overcome by the stupor incident to - the feast of the night. Beside the couch is a writing stand, - bearing writing materials. A few lights burn dimly. Nero groans, - cries out, and, as though terrified by a nightmare, sits up, - trembling and staring upon some projected vision of his sleep. He - is yet only half awake._) - - NERO - - - Oh—oh—begone, blear thing!—She is not dead! - You are not she—my mother!—Ghastly head— - Trunkless—and oozing green gore like the sea, - Wind-stabbed! Begone! Go—do not look at me— - I will not be so tortured!—Eyes burned out - With scorious hell-spew!—Locks that grope about - To clutch and strangle! - - (_He has got up from the couch and now struggles with something at - his throat, still staring at the thing._) - - Off! Off! - - (_In an outburst of terrified tenderness extends his arms as toward - a woman._) - - Mother—mother—come - Into these arms—speak to me—be not dumb! - Stare not so wildly—kiss me as of old! - Be flesh again—warm flesh! Oh green and cold - As the deep grave they gave you! - ‘Twas not I! - Mother, ‘twas not my will that you should die— - ‘Twas hers!—I hate her! Mother, pity me! - Oh, is it you?—Sole goddess of the sea - I shall proclaim you! Pity! I shall pour - The hot blood of your foes on every shore, - A huge libation! Hers shall be the first! - I swear it! May my waking be accursed, - My sleep a-swarm with furies if I err! - - (_He has advanced a short distance toward what he sees, but now - shrinks back burying his face in his robe._) - - Go!—Spare me!—Guards! Guards! - - (_Three soldiers, who have been standing guard without the chamber, - rush in and stand at attention._) - - Seize and shackle her! - There ‘tis!—eh? - - (_He stares blankly, rubs his eyes._) - - It is gone! - - (_Blinks at soldiers, and cries petulantly._) - - What do you here? - - - FIRST SOLDIER - - - Great Caesar summoned us. - - - NERO - - (_Glancing nervously about._) - - The night is blear— - Make lights! I will not have these shadow things - Crawling about me! Poisoners of kings - Fatten on shadows! Quick there, dog-eyed scamp, - Lean offal-sniffer! Kindle every lamp! - - (_Soldier tremblingly takes a lamp and lights a number of others - with its flame. Stage is flooded with light._) - - By the bronze beard I swear there shall be lights - Enough hereafter, though I purge the nights - With conflagrating cities, till the crash - Of Rome’s last tower beat up the smouldering ash - Of Rome’s last city! - So—I breathe again! - Some cunning, faceless god who hated men - Devised this curse of darkness! What’s the hour? - - - SECOND SOLDIER - - - The third watch wanes. - - - NERO - - - Too late! Too late! The power - Of Nero Caesar can not stay the sun! - The stars have marched against me—it is done! - And all Rome’s legions could not rout this swarm - Of venom-footed moments! - —She was warm - One little lost eternity ago. - - (_With awakening resolution._) - - ‘Twas not my deed! I did not wish it so! - Some demon, aping Caesar, gave the word - While Lucius Aenobarbus’ eyes were blurred - With too much beauty! - Oh, it shall be done! - Ere these unmothered eyes behold the sun, - She shall have vengeance, and that gift is mine! - - (_To First Soldier._) - - Rouse the Praetorians! Bid a triple line - Be flung about the palace! - - (_To Second Soldier._) - - Send me wine— - Strong wine to nerve a resolution! - - (_To Third Soldier._) - - You— - Summon Poppaea! - - (_The Soldiers go out._) - - This deed I mean to do - Unties the snarl, but broken is the thread. - Would that the haughty blood these hands will shed - Might warm my mother! that the breath I crush— - So—(_clutching air_) from that throat of sorceries, might rush - Into the breast that loved and nurtured me! - The heart of Nero shivers in the sea, - And Rome is lorn of pity! - Could the world - And all her crawling spawn this night be hurled - Into one woman’s form, with eyes to shed - Rivers of scalding woe, her towering head - Jeweled with realms aflare, with locks of smoke, - Huge nerves to suffer, and a neck to choke— - That woman were Poppaea! I would rear - About the timeless sea, my mother’s bier, - A sky-roofed desolation groined with awe, - Where, nightly drifting in the stream of law, - The vestal stars should tend their fires, and weep - To hear upon the melancholy deep - That shipless wind, her ghost, amid the hush! - Alas! I have but one white throat to crush - With these world-hungry fingers! - - (_From behind Nero, enter Page—a little boy—bearing a goblet of wine - on a salver. Nero turns, startled._) - - Ah!—You!—You! - - - PAGE - - - I bring wine, mighty Caesar. - - (_Nero passes his hand across his face, and the expression of fright - leaves._) - - NERO - - - So you do— - I saw—the boy Brittanicus!—One sees— - _Things_—does one not?—such eerie nights as these? - - - PAGE - - (_With eager boyish earnestness._) - - With woozy heads? - - - NERO - - (_Irritably._) - - The wine! - - (_The Page, startled, presents the salver, from which Nero takes the - goblet with unsteady hand. Page is in the act of fleeing._) - - Stay! - - (_Page stops and turns tremblingly._) - - Never dare - Again to look like—anyone! Beware! - - (_Page’s head shakes a timid negative. Nero stares into goblet and - muses._) - - Blood’s red too. Ah, a woman is the grape - Ripe for the vintage, from whose flesh agape - Glad feet tonight shall stamp the hated ooze! - It boils!—See!—like some witch’s pot that brews - Venomous ichor!—Nay—some angry ghost - Hurls bloody breakers on a bleeding coast!— - _’Tis poisoned!—Out, Locusta’s brat!_ - - (_Hurls goblet at Page, who flees precipitately._) - - ‘Twas she! - The hand that flung my mother to the sea - Now pours me death! - Alas, great Hercules - Too long has plied the distaff at the knees - Of Omphale, spinning a thread of woe! - Was ever king of story driven so - By unrelenting Fate? Lo, round on round - The slow coils grip and choke—a mother drowned, - Her wrathful spirit rising from the dead— - A gentle wife outcast, discredited, - With sighs to wake the dread Eumenides! - Some thunder-hearted, vaster Sophocles, - His aeon-beating blood the stellar stream, - Has flung on me the mantle of his dream, - And Nero grapples Fate! O wondrous play! - With smoking brand aloft, the haggard Day - Gropes for the world! Pursued by subtle foes, - Superbly tragic ‘mid a storm of woes, - The fury-hunted Caesar takes the cue! - One time-outstaring deed remains to do, - Then let the pit howl—Caesar sings no more! - Go ask the battered wreckage on the shore - Who sought his mother in a sudden sleep, - To be with her forever on the deep - A twin ship-hating tempest! - - (_Enter Anicetus excitedly._) - - ANICETUS - - - Lost! We’re lost! - The Roman ship yaws rock-ward tempest-tossed - And Nero is but Lucius in the wreck! - - - NERO - - - Croak on! Each croak’s a dagger in that neck, - You vulture with the hideous dripping beak, - The clutching tearing talons that now reek - With what dear sacred veins! - - - ANICETUS - - - O Caesar, hear! - So keen the news I bear you, that I fear - To loose it like the arrow it must be. - I know not why such wrath you heap on me; - I know what peril deepens ‘round my lord; - How, riven by the lightning of the sword, - The doom-voiced blackness labors round his head! - - - NERO - - - Say what I know, that my poor mother’s dead— - So shall your life be briefer! - - - ANICETUS - - - Would ‘t were so! - - - NERO - - (_A light coming into his face._) - - She lives? - - - ANICETUS - - - Yea, lives—and lives to overthrow! - - - NERO - - - Not perished? - - - ANICETUS - - - —And her living is our death! - - - NERO - - - She moves and breathes? - - - ANICETUS - - - —And potent is her breath - To blow rebellion up! - - - NERO - - (_Rubbing his eyes._) - - Still do I sleep? - Is this a taunting dream that I may weep - More bitterly? Or some new foul intrigue? - - - ANICETUS - - - ‘Tis bitter fact to her who swam a league, - And bitter fact to Nero shall it be! - At Bauli now, still dripping from the sea, - She crouches snarling! - - - NERO - - (_In an outburst of joy._) - - Oh, you shall not die, - My best-loved Anicetus! Though you lie, - Sweeter these words are than profoundest truth! - They breathe the fresh, white morning of my youth - Upon the lampless night that smothered me! - O more than human Sea - That spared my mother that her son might live! - What bounty can I give? - I—Caesar—falter beggared at this gift - Of living words that lift - My mother from the regions of the dead! - Ah—I shall set a crown upon your head, - Snip you a kingdom from Rome’s flowing robe! - I’ll temple you in splendors! Yea, I’ll probe - Your secret heart to know what wishes pant - In wingless yearning there, that I may grant! - - (_Pause, while Anicetus regards Nero with gloomy face._) - - What sight thus makes your face a pool of gloom? - - - ANICETUS - - - The ghost of Nero crying from his tomb! - - - NERO - - (_Startled._) - - Eh?—Nero’s ghost—mine? - - - ANICETUS - - - Even so I said. - The doomed to perish are already dead - Who woo not Fate with swift unerring deeds! - That breathless moment when the tigress bleeds - Is ours to strike in, ere the tigress spring! - What could it boot your servant to be king - While any moment may the trumpets cry, - Hailing the certain hour when we shall die— - Caesar, the deaf, and his untrusted slave? - Peer deep, peer deep into this yawning grave - And tell me who shall fill it!—Wind and fire, - Harnessed with thrice the ghost of her dead sire, - Your mother is tonight! She knows, she knows - How galleys founder when no tempest blows - And moonlight slumbers on a glassy deep! - The beast our wound has wakened shall not sleep - Till it be gorged with slaughter, or be slain! - Lull not your heart, O Caesar! It is vain - To dream this cub-lorn tigress will not turn. - Lo, flaring through the dawn I see her burn, - A torch of revolution! Hear her raise - The legions with a voice of other days, - Worded with pangs to fret their ancient scars! - And every sword-wound of her father’s wars - Will shriek aloud with pity! - - - NERO - - (_During Anicetus’ speech he has shown growing fear._) - - Listen!—There! - You heard it?—Did you hear a trumpet blare? - - - ANICETUS - - - ‘Tis but the shadow of a sound to be - One rushing hour away! - - - NERO - - (_In panic._) - - Where shall I flee?— - I, the sad poet whom she made a king! - At last we flesh the ghost of what we sing— - We bards!—I sang Orestes. - - (_His face softens with a gentler thought._) - - Ah—I’ll go - To my poor heartsick mother. Tears shall flow, - The tears of Lucius, not imperial tears. - I’ll heap on her the vast, too vast arrears - Of filial love. The Senate shall proclaim - My mother regnant with me—write her name - Beside Augustus with the demigods! - Yea, lictors shall attend her with the rods, - And massed Praetorians tramp the rabble down - Whene’er her chariot flashes through the town! - One should be kind to mothers. - - - ANICETUS - - - Yea, and be - Kind to the senseless fury of the sea, - Fondle the tempest in a rotten boat! - - - NERO - - - What would you, Anicetus? - - - ANICETUS - - - Cut her throat! - - (_Nero gasps and shrinks from Anicetus._) - - NERO - - - No, no!—her ghost!—one can not stab so deep— - One can not kill these tortures spawned of sleep! - No, no—one can not kill them with a sword! - - - ANICETUS - - - Faugh! One good thrust—the rest is air, my lord! - - (_Enter Page timorously. Nero turns upon him._) - - PAGE - - (_Frightened._) - - Spare me, good Caesar!—Agerinus— - - - NERO - - - Go! - Bid Agerinus enter! - - (_Page flees. Nero to Anicetus menacingly._) - - We shall know - What breath from what damned throat tonight shall hiss! - - (_Enter Agerinus, bowing low._) - - AGERINUS - - - My mistress sends fond greetings and a kiss - To her most noble son, and bids me say, - She rests and would not see him until day. - The royal galley, through unhappy chance, - Struck rock and foundered; but no circumstance - So meagre might deprive a son so dear - Of his beloved mother! Have no fear, - The long swim leaves her weary, but quite well. - She knows what tender love her son would tell - And yearns for dawn to bring him to her side. - - - NERO - - (_To Anicetus._) - - So! Spell your doom from that! You lied! You lied! - I’ll lance that hateful fester in your throat! - Yea, we shall prove who rides the rotten boat - And supplicates the tempest! - - (_With a rapid motion, Nero draws Agerinus’ sword from its sheath. - Anicetus shrinks back. Nero cries to Agerinus._) - - Wait to see - The loving message you bear back from me! - - (_Nero brandishing the sword, makes at Anicetus. As he is about to - deliver the stroke, enter Poppaea from behind. She has evidently - been quite leisurely about her toilet, being dressed gorgeously; - and wearing her accustomed half-veil. Her manner is stately and - composed. She approaches slowly. Nero stops suddenly in the act to - strike Anicetus, and stares upon the beautiful apparition. Anger - leaves his face, which changes as though he had seen a great - light._) - - POPPAEA - - (_Languidly._) - - My Nero longed for me? - - (_Nero with his free hand brushes his eyes in perplexity._) - - NERO - - - I—can not—tell— - What—‘twas—I wished—I wished— - - - POPPAEA - - (_Haughtily._) - - Ah, very well. - - (_She walks slowly on across the stage. Nero stares blankly after - her. The sword drops from his hand. As Poppaea disappears, he - rouses suddenly as from a stupor._) - - NERO - - - Ho! Guards! - - (_Three soldiers enter. Nero points to Agerinus._) - - There—seize that wretch who came to kill Imperial Caesar! - - (_Agerinus is seized. Nero turns to Anicetus._) - - Hasten! Do your will! - - (_Nero turns, and with an eager expression on his face, goes - doddering after Poppaea._) - - - III - - (_The same night. Agrippina’s private chamber in her villa at Bauli - near Baiae. There is one lamp in the room. At the center back is a - broad door closed with heavy hangings. At the right is an open - window through which the moonlight falls. Agrippina is discovered - lying on a couch. One maid, Nina, is in attendance and is - arranging Agrippina’s hair._) - - AGRIPPINA - - - He was so tender—what should kindness mean? - - (_The maid seems not to hear._) - - I spoke!—you heard me speak? - - - NINA - - - I heard, my Queen. - - - AGRIPPINA - - - And deemed my voice some ghostly summer wind - Fit for autumnal hushes? He was kind! - Was ever breath in utterance better spent? - - - NINA - - - Your slave could scarcely fancy whom you meant, - There are so many tender to the great. - - - AGRIPPINA - - - When all the world is one sky-circled state, - Pray, who shall fill it as the sun the sky? - The mother of that mighty one am I— - And he caressed me! - I shall feel no pain - Forever now. So, drenched with winter rain, - The friendless marshland knows the boyish South - And shivers into color! - On the mouth - He kissed me, as before that other came— - That Helen of the stews, that corpse aflame - With lust for life, that— - Ah, he maidened me! - What dying wind could sway so tall a tree - With such proud music? I shall be again - That darkling whirlwind down the fields of men, - That dart unloosed, barbed keenly for his sake, - That living sword for him to wield or break, - But never sheathe! - - (_Lifts herself on elbow._) - - O Nina, let me be - Robed as the Queen I am in verity! - Robed as a victrix home from splendid wars, - Whom, ‘mid the rumble of spoil-laden cars - Trundled by harnessed kings, the trumpets hail! - Let quiet garments be for those who fail, - Mourning a world ill-lost with meek surrenders! - I would flare bright ‘mid Death’s unhuman splendors, - Dazzle the moony hollows of the dead! - Ah no— - - (_Arising and going to window._) - - I shall not die yet. - - (_Parts the curtains and gazes out._) - - NINA - - - ‘Tis the dread - Still clinging from the clutches of the sea, - That living, writhing horror! Ugh! O’er me - Almost I feel the liquid terror crawl! - Through glassy worlds of tortured sleep to fall, - Where winds blow not, nor mornings ever blush, - But green, cold, ghastly light-wraiths wander— - - - AGRIPPINA - - (_Turning from window with nervous anger._) - - Hush! - - (_Turns again to window; after pause, continues musingly._) - - She battles in a surf of spectral fire. - No—like some queen upon a funeral pyre, - Gasping, she withers in a fever swoon. - Had she a son too? - - - NINA - - (_Approaching the window._) - - Who, O Queen? - - - AGRIPPINA - - - The moon! - See, she is strangled in a noose of pearl! - What tell-tale scars she has! - —Look yonder, girl— - Your eyes are younger—by the winding sea - Where Baiae glooms and blanches; it may be - Old eyes betray not, but some horsemen take - The white road winding hither by the lake. - - - NINA - - - The way lies plain—I see no moving thing. - - - AGRIPPINA - - - Why thus is Agerinus loitering? - For he was ever true. - - (_Joyously._) - - Ah foolish head! - My heart knows how my son shall come instead, - My little Lucius! Even now he leaps - Into the saddle and the dull way creeps - Beneath the spurred impatience of his horse, - He longs so for me! - - (_Pause—She scans the moonlit country._) - - Shrouded like a corse, - Hoarding a mother’s secret, lies the sea; - And Capri, like a giant Niobe, - Outgazes Fate! - O sweet, too gentle lies - And kisses sword-like! Would the sun might rise - No more on Baiae! Would that earth might burst - Spewing blear doom upon this world accursed - With truth too big for hiding! - See! He sleeps - Beside her, and the shame-dimmed lamp-light creeps - Across her wine-stained mouth—so red—so red— - Like mother blood!—See! hissing round her head - Foul hate-fanged vipers that he calls her hair! - Ah no—beyond all speaking is she fair! - Sweet as a sword-wound in a gasping foe - Her mouth is; and too well, too well I know - Her face is dazzling as a funeral flame - Battened on queen’s flesh! - - (_Turning angrily from window._) - - Oh the blatant shame! - The bungling drunkard’s plot!—Tonight, tonight - I shall swoop down upon them by the light - Of naked steel! Faugh! Had it come to that? - Had Rome no sword, that like a drowning rat - The mother of a king should meet her end? - What Gallic legion would not call me friend? - Did they not love Germanicus, my sire? - Oh, I will rouse the cohorts, scattering fire - Till all Rome blaze rebellion! - - (_She has advanced to a place beside the couch, stands in a defiant - attitude for a moment, then covers her face with her hands and - sinks to the couch._) - - No, no, no— - It could not be, I would not have it so! - Not mine to burn the tower my hands have built! - And somewhere ‘mid the shadows of his guilt - My son is good. - - (_Lifts herself on elbow._) - - Look, Nina, toward the roofs - Of sleeping Baiae. Say that eager hoofs - Beat a white dust-cloud moonward. - - (_Nina goes to window and peers out._) - - NINA - - - Landward crawls - A sea fog; Capri’s league-long shadow sprawls - Lengthening toward us—soon the moon will set. - - - AGRIPPINA - - - No horsemen? - - - NINA - - - None, my Queen. - - - AGRIPPINA - - - —And yet—and yet— - He called me baby names. Ah, ghosts that wept - Big tears down smiling faces, twined and crept - About my heart, and still I feel their tears. - They make me joyous.—After all these years, - The little boy my heart so often dirged - Shivered the man-husk, beardless, and emerged! - He kissed my breasts and hung upon my going! - Once more I felt the happy nurture flowing, - The silvery, tingling shivers of delight! - What though my end had come indeed tonight— - I was a mother! - —Have you children? - - - NINA - - - No, - My Queen. - - - AGRIPPINA - - - Yet you are winsome. - - - NINA - - - Lovers go - Like wind, as lovers come; I am unwed. - - - AGRIPPINA - - - How lonely shall you be among the dead - Where hearts remember, but are lorn of hope! - Poor girl! No dream of tiny hands that grope, - And coaxing, hunting little mouths shall throw - Brief glories ‘round you! - Nina, I would go - Like any brazen bawd along the street, - Hailing the first stout carter I should meet, - Ere I would perish childless! Though we nurse - The cooing thing that some day hurls the curse, - Forge from our hearts the matricidal sword, - The act of loving is its own reward. - We mothers need no pity! - ‘Twill be said, - When this brief war is done, and I am dead, - That I was wanton, shameless—be it so! - Unto the swarm of insect scribes I throw - The puffed-up purple carcass of my name - For them to feast on! Pointed keen with shame, - How shall each busy little stylus bite - A thing that feels not! I have fought my fight! - That mine were but the weapons of the foe, - Too well the ragged scars I bear can show. - Oh, I have triumphed, and am ripe to die! - About my going shall the trumpets cry - Forever and forever! - I can thread - The twilit under-regions of the dead - A radiant shadow with a heart that sings! - Before the myriad mothers of great kings - I shall lift up each livid spirit hand - Spotted with blood—and they shall understand - How small the price was! - - - NINA - - - Hark! - - (_The tramp of soldiery and the clatter of arms are heard from - without. Nina, panic-stricken, runs to window, peers out, shrinks - back, and, turning, flees by a side door._) - - AGRIPPINA - - - Why do you flee? - Did I not say my son would come to me? - ‘Tis Nero—Nero Caesar, Lord of Rome! - My little boy grown tall is coming home! - - (_She goes to window, peers out, shrinks back, then turns toward the - door and sees three armed men standing there—Anicetus, the Captain - of a Galley and a Centurion of the Navy. The men stare at her - without moving._) - - Why come you here? - - (_Silence._) - - To know my health?—Go tell - My son, your master, I am very well— - And happy— - - (_The men make no reply. Agrippina straightens her body haughtily._) - - —If like cowards in the night - You come to stab a woman— - - - ANICETUS - - (_Drawing his sword and speaking to Captain._) - - Snuff the light! - - (_The men spring forward with drawn swords. Agrippina does not move. - The light is stricken out._) - - - - - PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Added missing period to many stage directions to conform with - majority practice in book. - 2. Changed 'faneless' to 'faceless' on p. 54. - 3. Silently corrected typographical errors. - 4. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - 5. 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