Lead her within. O mother! piteous mother!——Ah, it was ruthless, kindless!Renier.We shall see.
Lead her within. O mother! piteous mother!——Ah, it was ruthless, kindless!
Renier.We shall see.
(ToHassan.)
(ToHassan.)
Bid Moro and Amaury.—As for her,I soon may come and seek forgiveness.Berengere.No!
Bid Moro and Amaury.—As for her,I soon may come and seek forgiveness.
Berengere.No!
(Hassangoes.)
(Hassangoes.)
My brain and breath!... the pall ... where am I ... howLong must I lie!...Tremitus.She speaks to visions. So,So can the blood do—trick us utterly!
My brain and breath!... the pall ... where am I ... howLong must I lie!...
Tremitus.She speaks to visions. So,So can the blood do—trick us utterly!
(He supports her—withAlessa—slowly up steps and off.Yolandacovers her eyes.Hassanreturns withMoro,then, andAmaury,whose look seeksVittia.)
(He supports her—withAlessa—slowly up steps and off.Yolandacovers her eyes.Hassanreturns withMoro,then, andAmaury,whose look seeksVittia.)
Yolanda(as all stand silent).Speak, speak, and tell him!Renier.Yes, Amaury ... youAre sent for to behold Yolanda wed,As you commanded,Here unto Camarin. Shame has till nowWithheld her, but ... what ails you?Amaury.On; go on.The sudden blood up to my wounds.Renier.It has,I say, withheld her. But she now has chosen.Amaury.So; and ... it is well. And here are herVows I have kept—
Yolanda(as all stand silent).Speak, speak, and tell him!
Renier.Yes, Amaury ... youAre sent for to behold Yolanda wed,As you commanded,Here unto Camarin. Shame has till nowWithheld her, but ... what ails you?
Amaury.On; go on.The sudden blood up to my wounds.
Renier.It has,I say, withheld her. But she now has chosen.
Amaury.So; and ... it is well. And here are herVows I have kept—
(Takes a packet from his breast.)
(Takes a packet from his breast.)
Vows and remembrances ... I shall aspire—
Vows and remembrances ... I shall aspire—
(Hands it; she lets it fall.)
(Hands it; she lets it fall.)
That I may loathe her not o'ermuch; and toMuffle my sword from him that now she weds.
That I may loathe her not o'ermuch; and toMuffle my sword from him that now she weds.
(His voice breaks tonelessly.)
(His voice breaks tonelessly.)
Come, let it be.Yolanda.Amaury!Amaury(angrily.) Priest, be brief!Moro(before them; asCamarintakesYolanda'shand).The Church invests me and the powers ofThis island here to make you man and wife.Be joined, ye who have sinned,In soul, peace and repentances for ever.
Come, let it be.
Yolanda.Amaury!
Amaury(angrily.) Priest, be brief!
Moro(before them; asCamarintakesYolanda'shand).The Church invests me and the powers ofThis island here to make you man and wife.Be joined, ye who have sinned,In soul, peace and repentances for ever.
(He signs the cross.Yolandastands dazed. A silence. Then a shuddering cry and all turn toward the balcony, whereAlessabursts, pale, wild, and striving to speak.)
(He signs the cross.Yolandastands dazed. A silence. Then a shuddering cry and all turn toward the balcony, whereAlessabursts, pale, wild, and striving to speak.)
Yolanda(with dread, awe, premonition). Alessa!Alessa.Lady Yolanda! you have wed him?Yolanda(pausing.) Yes.Alessa.Lady Berengere is dead.Yolanda.No!... No!
Yolanda(with dread, awe, premonition). Alessa!
Alessa.Lady Yolanda! you have wed him?
Yolanda(pausing.) Yes.
Alessa.Lady Berengere is dead.
Yolanda.No!... No!
(Chokes rebelliously.)
(Chokes rebelliously.)
It cannot be! mother! cannot! awake her!And tell her I have wed him! mother! cannot!
It cannot be! mother! cannot! awake her!And tell her I have wed him! mother! cannot!
(Goes trembling, belieflessly, up the balcony. A strange doubt seizesAmaury.On the rest is silence, consternation, and fear.)
(Goes trembling, belieflessly, up the balcony. A strange doubt seizesAmaury.On the rest is silence, consternation, and fear.)
Curtain.
Scene:The Chapel of the Castle—or Chapel of the Magdalen—a few hours later. It is of stone, low-arched, gloomy, and adorned with Byzantine mosaics of gaunt saints on backgrounds of gold. The altar is in the rear, and above it a large window, through which pours the still moon. In front of it, to either side, rise two pillars supporting the roof, and on one of them, halfway up, stands a stone image of the Magdalen. Forward are two other pillars whose bases form seats. The right wall has, set midway, a large door hung with heavy curtains. In the rear are smaller doors leading to a sacristy. The altar lamp and a few tapers burn.Alessaenters, rubbing her eyes as if to clear them of vision, looks around, then calls uncertainly—
Scene:The Chapel of the Castle—or Chapel of the Magdalen—a few hours later. It is of stone, low-arched, gloomy, and adorned with Byzantine mosaics of gaunt saints on backgrounds of gold. The altar is in the rear, and above it a large window, through which pours the still moon. In front of it, to either side, rise two pillars supporting the roof, and on one of them, halfway up, stands a stone image of the Magdalen. Forward are two other pillars whose bases form seats. The right wall has, set midway, a large door hung with heavy curtains. In the rear are smaller doors leading to a sacristy. The altar lamp and a few tapers burn.Alessaenters, rubbing her eyes as if to clear them of vision, looks around, then calls uncertainly—
Alessa.Good father! Father Moro!... He is not here.
Alessa.Good father! Father Moro!... He is not here.
(Rubs her eyes again.)
(Rubs her eyes again.)
The dead are strange! I knew not all their power.It is as if her spirit still imprisonedHovered beneath the pallor of her faceAnd strove to speak. Good father!
The dead are strange! I knew not all their power.It is as if her spirit still imprisonedHovered beneath the pallor of her faceAnd strove to speak. Good father!
(EnterMoro.)
(EnterMoro.)
Ah, you wereThere in the sacristy.Moro.Yes. Your desire?Alessa.The acolytes summoned from FamagousteTo aid your rites before her burialHave come, and wait.Moro.Send hither two.
Ah, you wereThere in the sacristy.
Moro.Yes. Your desire?
Alessa.The acolytes summoned from FamagousteTo aid your rites before her burialHave come, and wait.
Moro.Send hither two.
(Looks closely at her.)
(Looks closely at her.)
Alessa.At once.
Alessa.At once.
(Is going. He stops her.)
(Is going. He stops her.)
Moro.Woman, this passes silence. There must beSome question. Do you understand this wedding?The evil that has risen in this house?Speak.Alessa.I may not.Moro.As says Yolanda, whoHas been to-day impenetrable in all.But who, now, in a lofty grief aboveThe misery that blasted her, seems calm,And answers only,"God in His season will,I trust, unfold it soon; I cannot, now!" ...And yet I heardHer darkly bid the Paphian be gone——From here—without her.Alessa.And he would not?Moro.No.
Moro.Woman, this passes silence. There must beSome question. Do you understand this wedding?The evil that has risen in this house?Speak.
Alessa.I may not.
Moro.As says Yolanda, whoHas been to-day impenetrable in all.But who, now, in a lofty grief aboveThe misery that blasted her, seems calm,And answers only,"God in His season will,I trust, unfold it soon; I cannot, now!" ...And yet I heardHer darkly bid the Paphian be gone——From here—without her.
Alessa.And he would not?
Moro.No.
(A pause.)
(A pause.)
Does she not see lightnings now in Amaury,Plunging for truth? What is't?Alessa.The acolytesAre waiting.Moro.Go ... But if this hour bring forthWhat you shall rue——Alessa.Father!
Does she not see lightnings now in Amaury,Plunging for truth? What is't?
Alessa.The acolytesAre waiting.
Moro.Go ... But if this hour bring forthWhat you shall rue——
Alessa.Father!
(Goes quickly, troubled.)
(Goes quickly, troubled.)
Moro.In blindness still!For Vittia Pisani, who aloneSeems with these twain to share this mysteryIs silent to all importunity.Oh, Berengere Lusignan!But 'tis mineTo pray and to prepare. (Listens.) The acolytes.
Moro.In blindness still!For Vittia Pisani, who aloneSeems with these twain to share this mysteryIs silent to all importunity.Oh, Berengere Lusignan!But 'tis mineTo pray and to prepare. (Listens.) The acolytes.
(Two enter, sleek, sanctimonious.)
(Two enter, sleek, sanctimonious.)
(To First.) Come here ... You're Serlio,Of the Ascension. You?2nd Acolyte.Hilarion.From Santa Maria by the Templars' well,Which God looks on with gratitude, father.For though we're poor and are unworthy servantsWe've given willingly our widow's mite.And now we ...Moro.You are summoned to this placeFor ministrations other than the tongue's.Prepare that altar—masses for the dead.Hilarion.Man is as grass that withers!Moro.Kindle allIts tapers. The departed will be borneHither for holy care and sacred rest.So do—then afterLook to that image of the Magdalen,Once it has fallen.Serlio.Domine, dirige!
(To First.) Come here ... You're Serlio,Of the Ascension. You?
2nd Acolyte.Hilarion.From Santa Maria by the Templars' well,Which God looks on with gratitude, father.For though we're poor and are unworthy servantsWe've given willingly our widow's mite.And now we ...
Moro.You are summoned to this placeFor ministrations other than the tongue's.Prepare that altar—masses for the dead.
Hilarion.Man is as grass that withers!
Moro.Kindle allIts tapers. The departed will be borneHither for holy care and sacred rest.So do—then afterLook to that image of the Magdalen,Once it has fallen.
Serlio.Domine, dirige!
(Morogoes. They put off cant and set to work.)
(Morogoes. They put off cant and set to work.)
Hilarion(insolently, lighting a taper).We'll have good wine for this!Serlio.The Chian! Hee!None's like the Chian! and to-morrow, meat!Last week old Ugo died and we had pheasant.Hilarion.When we are priests we'll give no comfortingTo wife or maid—till we have sipped!Serlio.And supped!Though 'tis a Friday and the Pope is dead!
Hilarion(insolently, lighting a taper).We'll have good wine for this!
Serlio.The Chian! Hee!None's like the Chian! and to-morrow, meat!Last week old Ugo died and we had pheasant.
Hilarion.When we are priests we'll give no comfortingTo wife or maid—till we have sipped!
Serlio.And supped!Though 'tis a Friday and the Pope is dead!
(Silence. They work faster.)
(Silence. They work faster.)
Hilarion.There, it is done. Now to the image.Serlio.Well,Olympio, the cock who fetched us, saidThat image fell first on the day——Hilarion.Tchuck! tchuck!Better no breath about that lord of PaphosOr any here. For till the dead are threeDays gone, you know—! But there's the woman. Feign.
Hilarion.There, it is done. Now to the image.
Serlio.Well,Olympio, the cock who fetched us, saidThat image fell first on the day——
Hilarion.Tchuck! tchuck!Better no breath about that lord of PaphosOr any here. For till the dead are threeDays gone, you know—! But there's the woman. Feign.
(AsAlessare-enters; hypocritically.)
(AsAlessare-enters; hypocritically.)
The blessed dead! in Purgatory mayThey briefly bide.Serlio.Aye! aye!Alessa(still troubled). What say you?Hilarion.Ah!I lay that it is wise never to foulThe dead, even in thinking,For they may hear us, none can say, and onceMy mother saw a dead man who had goneUnshriven start up white and cry out loudWhen he was curst.Serlio.O Lord!Alessa(staring). No!... Well, such thingsThere are perchance. And now they say that Venus,The Anadyomene, who once ruled this isle,Is come again.... But you have finished? SoonThey bring her body here.Hilarion.Now have I, now!It will not totter again. (Descends.)AlessaWould that it mightUpon the head of —— (catches herself; calmly)You are awaitedThere in the sacristy.... The chant begins!
The blessed dead! in Purgatory mayThey briefly bide.
Serlio.Aye! aye!
Alessa(still troubled). What say you?
Hilarion.Ah!I lay that it is wise never to foulThe dead, even in thinking,For they may hear us, none can say, and onceMy mother saw a dead man who had goneUnshriven start up white and cry out loudWhen he was curst.
Serlio.O Lord!
Alessa(staring). No!... Well, such thingsThere are perchance. And now they say that Venus,The Anadyomene, who once ruled this isle,Is come again.... But you have finished? SoonThey bring her body here.
Hilarion.Now have I, now!It will not totter again. (Descends.)
AlessaWould that it mightUpon the head of —— (catches herself; calmly)You are awaitedThere in the sacristy.... The chant begins!
(The acolytes go. She grows more disquieted.)
(The acolytes go. She grows more disquieted.)
Begins! and lady Yolanda still awaitsHeedless, though Lord Amaury's desperateAs is the Paphian!... They near!... The curtains!
Begins! and lady Yolanda still awaitsHeedless, though Lord Amaury's desperateAs is the Paphian!... They near!... The curtains!
(Goes to them and draws them back. As she does so the chant swells louder. Then the cortège enters—Moro,the acolytes with tapers;Berengereon a litter,Amaury,Renier,Vittia,the women,Hassan,andlastYolanda.The litter,Amauryby it, comes to the altar; the chanting ceases.)
(Goes to them and draws them back. As she does so the chant swells louder. Then the cortège enters—Moro,the acolytes with tapers;Berengereon a litter,Amaury,Renier,Vittia,the women,Hassan,andlastYolanda.The litter,Amauryby it, comes to the altar; the chanting ceases.)
Moro(asAmaurybows, shaken).No moan or any toil of grief be hereWhere we have brought her for sainted appeal.But in this holy place until the tombLet her find rest.Amaury.Set down the bier.
Moro(asAmaurybows, shaken).No moan or any toil of grief be hereWhere we have brought her for sainted appeal.But in this holy place until the tombLet her find rest.
Amaury.Set down the bier.
(It is placed.)
(It is placed.)
Moro.Lone rest!Then bliss Afar for ever!Amaury(rises). Be it so!
Moro.Lone rest!Then bliss Afar for ever!
Amaury(rises). Be it so!
(Turning; brokenly.)
(Turning; brokenly.)
But unto any, mother, who have brought theeLow to this couch, be never ease again.To any who have put thy life out, never!But in them be the burning that has seemedTo shrivel thee—whether with pain or fear!And be appeaseless tears,Salt tears that rust the fountain of the heart.
But unto any, mother, who have brought theeLow to this couch, be never ease again.To any who have put thy life out, never!But in them be the burning that has seemedTo shrivel thee—whether with pain or fear!And be appeaseless tears,Salt tears that rust the fountain of the heart.
(Sinks to a seat. A pause.)
(Sinks to a seat. A pause.)
Moro.My son, relentless words.Amaury(up again). To the relentless!Moro.God hear you not!Amaury.Then is He not my God.Moro.Enough, enough. (To the rest.) But go and for her soulFreight all of you this tide of night with prayer.Amaury.Never!Moro.I bid.Amaury.And I forbid those whoHave prized her not!For though nought's in the world but prayer may move,Still but the lips that loved herShould for her any sin beseeching lift.
Moro.My son, relentless words.
Amaury(up again). To the relentless!
Moro.God hear you not!
Amaury.Then is He not my God.
Moro.Enough, enough. (To the rest.) But go and for her soulFreight all of you this tide of night with prayer.
Amaury.Never!
Moro.I bid.
Amaury.And I forbid those whoHave prized her not!For though nought's in the world but prayer may move,Still but the lips that loved herShould for her any sin beseeching lift.
(Looking atYolanda.)
(Looking atYolanda.)
They and no other!Yolanda.And, you mean——?Amaury.Not one.Yolanda.Then, mother——
They and no other!
Yolanda.And, you mean——?
Amaury.Not one.
Yolanda.Then, mother——
(Goes to bier.)
(Goes to bier.)
Amaury.That name again?Yolanda.While I have breath.(Nobly.) Yes, though you hold me purgeless of that sinOnly the pale arch-angels may endureTrembling to muse on!Or though yon image of the Magdalen,Whose alabaster broke amid her tearsAnd her torn hair, forbade me with a voice.And you, whose heart is shakenAs in a tomb a taper's flame, would knowI speak with love.Camarin.Unswerving love.Amaury.Then, byChrist, and the world that craves His blood, I thinkShe, if she would, or you, could point to me,Or you, Vittia Pisani,The reason of this sudden piteous deathHard on the haunted flight before my father,Whose lips refuse.Camarin.She knows no shred of it.Amaury.You lie to say it.Camarin.Then will, still—if thereIs need.Amaury.Because you love her?Yolanda.Peace, peace, peace.Amaury.A hollow word for what had never being.Yolanda.Look on her face and see.Amaury(at bier). Upon her face!Where not oblivion the void of deathHas hid away, or can, the agonyOf her last terror—but it trembles still.I tell you, no. Grief was enough, but nowThrough it has risen mystery that chokesAs a miasma from Iscariot's tomb.And till this pall of doubt be rent awayNo earth shall fall and quicken with her dust!But I will search her face ... till it reveals.Camarin.He raves.Amaury.Iscariot! yes!Yolanda.Again, peace, peace!Amaury.That you may palter!Yolanda(gently). That she may not grieve.
Amaury.That name again?
Yolanda.While I have breath.(Nobly.) Yes, though you hold me purgeless of that sinOnly the pale arch-angels may endureTrembling to muse on!Or though yon image of the Magdalen,Whose alabaster broke amid her tearsAnd her torn hair, forbade me with a voice.And you, whose heart is shakenAs in a tomb a taper's flame, would knowI speak with love.
Camarin.Unswerving love.
Amaury.Then, byChrist, and the world that craves His blood, I thinkShe, if she would, or you, could point to me,Or you, Vittia Pisani,The reason of this sudden piteous deathHard on the haunted flight before my father,Whose lips refuse.
Camarin.She knows no shred of it.
Amaury.You lie to say it.
Camarin.Then will, still—if thereIs need.
Amaury.Because you love her?
Yolanda.Peace, peace, peace.
Amaury.A hollow word for what had never being.
Yolanda.Look on her face and see.
Amaury(at bier). Upon her face!Where not oblivion the void of deathHas hid away, or can, the agonyOf her last terror—but it trembles still.I tell you, no. Grief was enough, but nowThrough it has risen mystery that chokesAs a miasma from Iscariot's tomb.And till this pall of doubt be rent awayNo earth shall fall and quicken with her dust!But I will search her face ... till it reveals.
Camarin.He raves.
Amaury.Iscariot! yes!
Yolanda.Again, peace, peace!
Amaury.That you may palter!
Yolanda(gently). That she may not grieve.
(Goes again to bier.)
(Goes again to bier.)
For—if 'tis near—her soul with this is wrung.Near! would it were to hear me and impartIts yearning and regret to us who live,Its dim unhappiness and hollow want.Yes, mother, were you now about us, vain,Invisible and without any voiceTo tell us of you!Were you and now could hear through what of coldOr silence wrap you, oh, so humanlyAnd seeming but a veil—Then would you hear me say—(suddenly aghast)Ah, God!Amaury.Yolanda!
For—if 'tis near—her soul with this is wrung.Near! would it were to hear me and impartIts yearning and regret to us who live,Its dim unhappiness and hollow want.Yes, mother, were you now about us, vain,Invisible and without any voiceTo tell us of you!Were you and now could hear through what of coldOr silence wrap you, oh, so humanlyAnd seeming but a veil—Then would you hear me say—(suddenly aghast)Ah, God!
Amaury.Yolanda!
(She starts back from the bier.)
(She starts back from the bier.)
Yolanda!Renier.Girl, what rends you?Yolanda.Saw you not?
Yolanda!
Renier.Girl, what rends you?
Yolanda.Saw you not?
(Rushes to bier and shakes it.)
(Rushes to bier and shakes it.)
Mother! you hear me? mother!Renier.Girl!Yolanda.She breathes!
Mother! you hear me? mother!
Renier.Girl!
Yolanda.She breathes!
(Consternation. Some fall to their knees.)
(Consternation. Some fall to their knees.)
Vittia.What? What?Yolanda.Mother! Her breast! Mother! She moves!Amaury.God! God!Yolanda.Stand off from her ... Mother!Camarin.Her eyes!...They open! open!Yolanda.Mother!...Amaury.See; her lips!They strive to speak! O faintly, O so faint!Can you not hear?Berengere.Yolanda!Yolanda.Mother!Berengere.Renier!Renier.Yes, yes?Berengere.Yolanda—Renier.Speak!Berengere.Christ, save me ... Christ!Yolanda's innocent, and I ... 'twas I.Amaury.What? what is it she says?Berengere.Camarin! Ah!
Vittia.What? What?
Yolanda.Mother! Her breast! Mother! She moves!
Amaury.God! God!
Yolanda.Stand off from her ... Mother!
Camarin.Her eyes!...They open! open!
Yolanda.Mother!...
Amaury.See; her lips!They strive to speak! O faintly, O so faint!Can you not hear?
Berengere.Yolanda!
Yolanda.Mother!
Berengere.Renier!
Renier.Yes, yes?
Berengere.Yolanda—
Renier.Speak!
Berengere.Christ, save me ... Christ!Yolanda's innocent, and I ... 'twas I.
Amaury.What? what is it she says?
Berengere.Camarin! Ah!
(She shudders and dies, amid low-uttered awe.Renierbends, lays his hand a moment on her breast, then, with a cry of rage, springs from her and draws, and rushes onCamarin,who awaits him, desperate.)
(She shudders and dies, amid low-uttered awe.Renierbends, lays his hand a moment on her breast, then, with a cry of rage, springs from her and draws, and rushes onCamarin,who awaits him, desperate.)
Amaury(confused, as they engage).Yolanda; what is this?Yolanda.Amaury, in!Compel Lord Renier back! he cannot live,You only could against Camarin now!Wait not to question, but obey me! ifYou ever—! (As he rushes in) Holy Magdalen, defend him!
Amaury(confused, as they engage).Yolanda; what is this?
Yolanda.Amaury, in!Compel Lord Renier back! he cannot live,You only could against Camarin now!Wait not to question, but obey me! ifYou ever—! (As he rushes in) Holy Magdalen, defend him!
(Renierfalls back.)
(Renierfalls back.)
Now, now defend him, if to chastityThou'rt vowed in heaven.Vittia.Fool!—Camarin, strike!Yolanda.He's wounded!Camarin.Oh!... Berengere!... treachery!
Now, now defend him, if to chastityThou'rt vowed in heaven.
Vittia.Fool!—Camarin, strike!
Yolanda.He's wounded!
Camarin.Oh!... Berengere!... treachery!
(He staggers and sinks back heavily toward the pillar. There is breathless, strained suspense. Then he strikes the sacred column, and as he does so the image above sways, totters and crushes upon him. A cry, "The Magdalen!" goes up around.)
(He staggers and sinks back heavily toward the pillar. There is breathless, strained suspense. Then he strikes the sacred column, and as he does so the image above sways, totters and crushes upon him. A cry, "The Magdalen!" goes up around.)
Hassan(hurrying to him; after awe and silence).He's dead.Alessa.The Magdalen!Hassan.No breath in him.
Hassan(hurrying to him; after awe and silence).He's dead.
Alessa.The Magdalen!
Hassan.No breath in him.
(A pause.)
(A pause.)
Renier(low, harshly).Bear him without then ever from this place,That never more shall know a holy rite—And from these gates, I care not to what tomb.
Renier(low, harshly).Bear him without then ever from this place,That never more shall know a holy rite—And from these gates, I care not to what tomb.
(ToAmaury.)
(ToAmaury.)
Then shall you hear this mystery's content,That still as a madness measures to your sight.Bear him without.
Then shall you hear this mystery's content,That still as a madness measures to your sight.Bear him without.
(The limp body is borne away. All follow butAmaury,Yolanda,Renier.)
(The limp body is borne away. All follow butAmaury,Yolanda,Renier.)
Now you shall hear, with shame,But with exalted pride and happy tears;Then come obliteration!Speak, girl ... NobilityHad never better title to its truth.
Now you shall hear, with shame,But with exalted pride and happy tears;Then come obliteration!Speak, girl ... NobilityHad never better title to its truth.
(Kisses her hand and goes.)
(Kisses her hand and goes.)
Amaury.Yolanda!... he!... this reverence as toAn angel? Speak!Yolanda.Amaury——Amaury.O pause not!Yolanda.Then—to save her who's dead—from death and shame,I took her place within the Paphian's arms.Amaury.O!... and by me, driven by me, bore this!(Overcome) Pure as the rills of Paradise, endured?Yolanda.For you!—and her who sleeps forgiven there,
Amaury.Yolanda!... he!... this reverence as toAn angel? Speak!
Yolanda.Amaury——
Amaury.O pause not!
Yolanda.Then—to save her who's dead—from death and shame,I took her place within the Paphian's arms.
Amaury.O!... and by me, driven by me, bore this!(Overcome) Pure as the rills of Paradise, endured?
Yolanda.For you!—and her who sleeps forgiven there,
(With deep abandon.)
(With deep abandon.)
Now while her spirit weightless overwingethNight, to that Throne whose seeing heals all shame!For her I did! but oh, for you, whose leastMurmur to me is infinite with Spring,Whose smile is light, filling the air with dawn,Whose touch, wafture of immortalityUnto my weariness; and whose eyes, now,Are as the beams God lifted first, they tell us,Over the uncreated,In the far singing mother-dawn of the world!—Come with me then, but tearless, to her side.
Now while her spirit weightless overwingethNight, to that Throne whose seeing heals all shame!For her I did! but oh, for you, whose leastMurmur to me is infinite with Spring,Whose smile is light, filling the air with dawn,Whose touch, wafture of immortalityUnto my weariness; and whose eyes, now,Are as the beams God lifted first, they tell us,Over the uncreated,In the far singing mother-dawn of the world!—Come with me then, but tearless, to her side.
(They go to the bier and stand as in a dream. A pause; then her lips move, last, as if inspired.)
(They go to the bier and stand as in a dream. A pause; then her lips move, last, as if inspired.)
While there is sin to sway the soul and sink itPity should be as strong as love or death!
While there is sin to sway the soul and sink itPity should be as strong as love or death!
(With a cry of joy he enfolds her, and they kneel, wrapped about with the clear moon.)
(With a cry of joy he enfolds her, and they kneel, wrapped about with the clear moon.)
The End.
The End.
Jehovah! Jehovah! art Thou not stronger than gods of the heathen?I slew him, that Sisera, prince of the host Thou dost hate.But fear of his blood is upon me, about me is breathenHis spirit—by night and by day come voices that wait.Athirst and affrightened he fled from the star-wrought waters of Kishon.His face was as wool when he swooned at the door of my tent.The Lord hath given him into the hand of perdition,I smiled—but he saw not the face of my cunning intent.He thirsted for water: I fed him the curdless milk of the cattle.He lay in the tent under purple and crimson of Tyre.He slept and he dreamt of the surge and storming of battle.Ah ha! but he woke not to waken Jehovah's ire.He slept as he were a chosen of Israel's God Almighty.A dog out of Canaan!—thought he I was woman alone?I slipt like an asp to his ear and laughed for the sight heWould give when the carrion kites should tear to his bone.I smote thro' his temple the nail, to the dust a worm did I bind him.My heart was a-leap with rage and a-quiver with scorn.And I danced with a holy delight before and behind him—I that am called blessed o'er all who're of Judah born."Aye, come, I will show thee, O Barak, a woman is more than a warrior,"I cried as I lifted the door wherein Sisera lay."To me did he fly and I shall be called his destroyer—I, Jael, who am subtle to find for the Lord a way!""Above all the daughters of men be blest—of Gilead or Asshur,"Sang Deborah, prophetess, under her waving palm."Behold her, ye people, behold her the heathen's abasher;Behold her the Lord hath uplifted—behold and be calm."The mother of him at the window looks out thro' the lattice to listen—Why roll not the wheels of his chariot? why does he stay?Shall he not return with the booty of battle, and glistenIn songs of his triumph—ye women, why do ye not say?"And I was as she who danced when the Seas were rendered asunderAnd stood, until Egypt pressed in to be drowned unto death.My breasts were as fire with the glory, the rocks that were underMy feet grew quick with the gloating that beat in my breath.At night I stole out where they cast him, a sop to the jackal and raven.But his bones stood up in the moon and I shook with affright.The strength shrank out of my limbs and I fell a cravenBefore him—the nail in his temple gleamed bloodily bright.Jehovah! Jehovah! art Thou not stronger than gods of the heathen?I slew him, that Sisera, prince of the host Thou dost hate.But fear of his blood is upon me, about me is breathenHis spirit—by day and by night come voices that wait.I fly to the desert, I fly to the mountain—but they will not hide me.His gods haunt the winds and the caves with vengeance that criesFor judgment upon me; the stars in their courses deride me—The stars Thou hast hung with a breath in the wandering skies.Jehovah! Jehovah! I slew him the scourge and sting of Thy Nation.Take from me his spirit, take from me the voice of his blood.With madness I rave—by day and by night, defamation!Jehovah, release me! Jehovah! if still Thou art God!
Jehovah! Jehovah! art Thou not stronger than gods of the heathen?I slew him, that Sisera, prince of the host Thou dost hate.But fear of his blood is upon me, about me is breathenHis spirit—by night and by day come voices that wait.
Athirst and affrightened he fled from the star-wrought waters of Kishon.His face was as wool when he swooned at the door of my tent.The Lord hath given him into the hand of perdition,I smiled—but he saw not the face of my cunning intent.
He thirsted for water: I fed him the curdless milk of the cattle.He lay in the tent under purple and crimson of Tyre.He slept and he dreamt of the surge and storming of battle.Ah ha! but he woke not to waken Jehovah's ire.
He slept as he were a chosen of Israel's God Almighty.A dog out of Canaan!—thought he I was woman alone?I slipt like an asp to his ear and laughed for the sight heWould give when the carrion kites should tear to his bone.
I smote thro' his temple the nail, to the dust a worm did I bind him.My heart was a-leap with rage and a-quiver with scorn.And I danced with a holy delight before and behind him—I that am called blessed o'er all who're of Judah born.
"Aye, come, I will show thee, O Barak, a woman is more than a warrior,"I cried as I lifted the door wherein Sisera lay."To me did he fly and I shall be called his destroyer—I, Jael, who am subtle to find for the Lord a way!"
"Above all the daughters of men be blest—of Gilead or Asshur,"Sang Deborah, prophetess, under her waving palm."Behold her, ye people, behold her the heathen's abasher;Behold her the Lord hath uplifted—behold and be calm.
"The mother of him at the window looks out thro' the lattice to listen—Why roll not the wheels of his chariot? why does he stay?Shall he not return with the booty of battle, and glistenIn songs of his triumph—ye women, why do ye not say?"
And I was as she who danced when the Seas were rendered asunderAnd stood, until Egypt pressed in to be drowned unto death.My breasts were as fire with the glory, the rocks that were underMy feet grew quick with the gloating that beat in my breath.
At night I stole out where they cast him, a sop to the jackal and raven.But his bones stood up in the moon and I shook with affright.The strength shrank out of my limbs and I fell a cravenBefore him—the nail in his temple gleamed bloodily bright.
Jehovah! Jehovah! art Thou not stronger than gods of the heathen?I slew him, that Sisera, prince of the host Thou dost hate.But fear of his blood is upon me, about me is breathenHis spirit—by day and by night come voices that wait.
I fly to the desert, I fly to the mountain—but they will not hide me.His gods haunt the winds and the caves with vengeance that criesFor judgment upon me; the stars in their courses deride me—The stars Thou hast hung with a breath in the wandering skies.
Jehovah! Jehovah! I slew him the scourge and sting of Thy Nation.Take from me his spirit, take from me the voice of his blood.With madness I rave—by day and by night, defamation!Jehovah, release me! Jehovah! if still Thou art God!
I know, Lord, Thou hast sent Him—Thou art so good to me!—But Thou hast only lent Him,His heart's for Thee!I dared—Thy poor hand-maiden—Not ask a prophet-child:Only a boy-babe ladenFor earth—and mild.But this one Thou hast givenSeems not for earth—or me!His lips flame truth from heaven,And vanitySeem all my thoughts and prayersWhen He but speaks Thy Law;Out of my heart the taresAre torn by awe!I cannot look upon HimSo strangely burn His eyes—Hath not some grieving drawn HimFrom Paradise?For Thee, for Thee I'd live, Lord!Yet oft I almost fallBefore Him—Oh, forgive, Lord,My sinful thrall!But e'en when He was nursing,A baby at my breast,It seemed He was dispersingThe world's unrest.Thou bad'st me call Him "Jesus"And from our heavy sinI know He shall release us,From Sheol win.But, Lord, forgive! the yearningThat He may sometimes beLike other children, learningBeside my knee,Or playing, prattling, seekingFor help,—comes to my heart....Ah sinful, Lord, I'm speaking—How good Thou art!
I know, Lord, Thou hast sent Him—Thou art so good to me!—But Thou hast only lent Him,His heart's for Thee!
I dared—Thy poor hand-maiden—Not ask a prophet-child:Only a boy-babe ladenFor earth—and mild.
But this one Thou hast givenSeems not for earth—or me!His lips flame truth from heaven,And vanity
Seem all my thoughts and prayersWhen He but speaks Thy Law;Out of my heart the taresAre torn by awe!
I cannot look upon HimSo strangely burn His eyes—Hath not some grieving drawn HimFrom Paradise?
For Thee, for Thee I'd live, Lord!Yet oft I almost fallBefore Him—Oh, forgive, Lord,My sinful thrall!
But e'en when He was nursing,A baby at my breast,It seemed He was dispersingThe world's unrest.
Thou bad'st me call Him "Jesus"And from our heavy sinI know He shall release us,From Sheol win.
But, Lord, forgive! the yearningThat He may sometimes beLike other children, learningBeside my knee,
Or playing, prattling, seekingFor help,—comes to my heart....Ah sinful, Lord, I'm speaking—How good Thou art!
I did not fear,But crept close up to Christ and said,"Is He not here?"They drew me back—The seraphs who had never bledOf weary lack—But still I cried,With torn robe, clutching at His feet,"Dear Christ! He diedSo long ago!Is He not here? Three days, unfleetAs mortal flowOf time I've sought—Till Heaven's amaranthine waysSeem as sere nought!"A grieving stoleUp from His heart and waned the gazeOf His clear soulInto my eyes."He is not here," troubled He sighed."For none who diesBeliefless mayBend lips to this sin-healing Tide,And live alway."Then darkness roseWithin me, and drear bitterness.Out of its throesI moaned, at last,"Let me go hence! Take off the dress,The charms Thou hastAround me strown!Beliefless too am I withoutHis love—and lone!"Unto the GateThey led me, tho' with pitying doubt.I did not waitBut stepped acrossIts portal, turned not once to heedOr know my loss.Then my dream broke,And with it every loveless creed—Beneath love's stroke.
I did not fear,But crept close up to Christ and said,"Is He not here?"
They drew me back—The seraphs who had never bledOf weary lack—
But still I cried,With torn robe, clutching at His feet,"Dear Christ! He died
So long ago!Is He not here? Three days, unfleetAs mortal flow
Of time I've sought—Till Heaven's amaranthine waysSeem as sere nought!"
A grieving stoleUp from His heart and waned the gazeOf His clear soul
Into my eyes."He is not here," troubled He sighed."For none who dies
Beliefless mayBend lips to this sin-healing Tide,And live alway."
Then darkness roseWithin me, and drear bitterness.Out of its throes
I moaned, at last,"Let me go hence! Take off the dress,The charms Thou hast
Around me strown!Beliefless too am I withoutHis love—and lone!"
Unto the GateThey led me, tho' with pitying doubt.I did not wait
But stepped acrossIts portal, turned not once to heedOr know my loss.
Then my dream broke,And with it every loveless creed—Beneath love's stroke.
Proud Adelil! Proud Adelil!Why does she lie so cold?(I made her shrink, I made her reel,I made her white lids fold.)We sat at banquet, many maids,She like a Valkyr free.(I hated the glitter of her braids,I hated her blue eye's glee!)In emerald cups was poured the mead;Icily blew the night.(But tears unshed and woes that bleedBrew bitterness and spite.)"A goblet to my love!" she cried,"Prince where the sea-winds fly!"(Her love!—it was for that he died,And for it she should die.)She lifted the cup and drank—she sawA heart within its lees.(I laughed like the dead who feel the thawOf summer in the breeze.)They looked upon her stricken still,And sudden they grew appalled.("It is thy lover's heart!" I shrillAs the sea-crow to her called.)Palely she took it—did it giveEase there against her breast?(Dead—dead she swooned, but I cannot live,And dead I shall not rest.)
Proud Adelil! Proud Adelil!Why does she lie so cold?(I made her shrink, I made her reel,I made her white lids fold.)
We sat at banquet, many maids,She like a Valkyr free.(I hated the glitter of her braids,I hated her blue eye's glee!)
In emerald cups was poured the mead;Icily blew the night.(But tears unshed and woes that bleedBrew bitterness and spite.)
"A goblet to my love!" she cried,"Prince where the sea-winds fly!"(Her love!—it was for that he died,And for it she should die.)
She lifted the cup and drank—she sawA heart within its lees.(I laughed like the dead who feel the thawOf summer in the breeze.)
They looked upon her stricken still,And sudden they grew appalled.("It is thy lover's heart!" I shrillAs the sea-crow to her called.)
Palely she took it—did it giveEase there against her breast?(Dead—dead she swooned, but I cannot live,And dead I shall not rest.)