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ACT THE THIRD.
A STREET. IT IS NIGHT.
SCENE I.
JUAN PAUL, dressed ridiculously as a soldier, and LUIS ENIUS, very pensive.
PAUL. Yes, the day would come I knew, After long procrastination, When a word of explanation I should ask to have with you. "Come with me," you said. Though dark, Off I trudged with heavy heart To point out to you the part Where at morn you could embark; Then again, with thundering voice, Thus you spoke, "Where I must fly Choose to come with me, or die." And, since you allowed a choice, Of two ills I chose the worst, Which, sir, was to go with you. As your shadow then I flew `Cross the sea to England first, Then to Scotland, then to France then to Italy and Spain, Round the world and back again, As in some fantastic dance. Not a country great or small Could escape you, `till, good lack! Here we are in Ireland back:-- Now, sir, I, plain Juan Paul, Being perplexed to know what draws You here now, with beard and hair Grown so long, your speech, your air, Changed so much, would ask the cause Why you these disguises wear? You by day ne`er leave the inn, But when cold night doth begin You a thousand follies dare, Without bearing this in mind, That we now are in a land Wholly changed from strand to strand, Where, in fact, we nothing find As we left it. The old king Died despairing, and his heir, Lesbia, now the crown doth wear, For her sister, hapless thing! Poor Polonia . . . .
LUIS. Oh, that name Do not mention! do not kill me By repeating what doth thrill me To the centre of my frame As with lightning. Yes, I know That at length Polonia died.
PAUL. Yes; our host was at her side (He himself has told me so) When they found her dead, and . . . .
LUIS. Cease! Of her death, oh! speak no more, `Tis sufficient to deplore, And to pray that she`s at peace.
PAUL. Leaving heathen sin and crime, All the people far and near Are become good Christians here. For one Patrick, who some time Now is dead . . . .
LUIS. Is Patrick dead?
PAUL. So I from our host have heard.
LUIS [aside]. Badly have I kept my word!-- But proceed.
PAUL. The teaching spread Of the faith of Christ, and gave, As a proof complete and whole Of the eternity of the soul, The discovery of a cave.-- Oh! it`s the very name doth send Terror through me.
LUIS. Yes, I have heard Of that cave, and every word Made my hair to stand on end. Those who in the neighbourhood Dwell, see wonders every day.
PAUL. Since, `mid terror and dismay, In your melancholy mood You will no one hear or see, Ever locked within your room, It is plain you have not come Aught to learn, how strange they be, Of these things. It doth appear Other work you are about. Satisfy my foolish doubt, And say why we have come here.
LUIS. to your questions thus I yield: Yes, I forced you, as you mention, From your house, and my intention Was to kill you in the field; But I thought it best instead You to make my steps attend As my comrade and my friend, Shaking off the mortal dread Which forbad me to endure Any stranger, and in fine, That your arms being joined with mine, I might feel the more secure. Many a land, both far and near, Passing through you fared right well; And now answering I will tell Why it is that we come here. And `tis this: I come to slay Here a man who did me wrong, `Tis for this I pass along, Muffled in this curious way, Hiding country, dress, and name; And the night suits best for me, For my powerful enemy Can the first position claim In the land. Since I avow Why I hither have been led, Listen now how I have sped In my project until now. I three days ago was brought To this city in disguise, For two nights, beneath the skies, I my enemy have sought In his street and at his door; Twice a muffled figure came And disturbed me in my aim, Twice he called and stalked before Him I followed in the street; But when I the figure neared, Suddenly he disappeared As if wings were on his feet. I this third night have brought you, That should this mysterious shape Come again, he sha`nt escape, Being caught between us two; Who he is we then can see.
PAUL. Two? who are they?
LUIS. You and I.
PAUL. I`m not one.
LUIS. Not one? How? Why?
PAUL. No, sir, no. I cannot be One, nor half a one. These stories Faith! would frighten fifty Hectors; What know I of Lady Spectres, Or of Lord Don Purgatories? All through life I`ve kept aloof From the other world`s affairs, Shunning much superfluous cares; But, my courage put to proof, Bid me face a thousand men, And if I don`t cut and run From the thousand, nay, from one, Never trust to me again. For I think it quite a case Fit for Bedlam, if so high, That a man would rather die, Than just take a little race. Such a trifle! Sir, to me Life is precious; leave me here, Where you`d find me, never fear.
LUIS. Here`s the house; to-night I`ll be, Philip, your predestined fate. Now we`ll see if heaven pretends To defend him, and defends.-- Watch here, you, beside the gate.
* * * * *
SCENE II.
A Muffled Figure. -- LUIS and PAUL.
PAUL. There`s no need to watch, for hither Some one comes.
LUIS. A lucky mortal Am I, if the hour draws nigh That will two revenges offer.* Since this night there then will be Naught to interrupt my project, Slaying first this muffled figure And then Philip. Slow and solemn Comes this man again. I know him By his gait. But whence this horror That comes o`er me as I see him, This strange awe that chills, that shocks me?
[footnote] *Asonante in o -- e to the end of Scene VIII.
THE FIGURE. Luis Enius!
LUIS. Sir, I`ve seen you Here the last two nights; your object? If you call me, wherefore fly thus? If `tis me you seek, why mock me By retiring?
THE FIGURE. Follow me, Then you`ll know my name.
LUIS. I`m stopped here In this street by a little business.-- To be quite alone imports me.-- Wherefore first by killing you I`ll be free to kill another [He draws his sword, but merely cuts the air. Draw, then, draw your sword or not, Thus the needful path I shorten To two acts of vengeance. Heavens! I but strike the air, cut nothing, Sever nothing else. Quick! Paul, Stop him as he stalks off yonder, Near to you.
PAUL. I`m bad at stopping.
LUIS. Then your footsteps I will follow Everywhere, until I learn Who you are. [Aside.] (In vain his body Do I strive to pierce. Oh, heavens! Lightnings flash from off my sword here; But in no way can I touch him, As if sword and arm were shortened.) [Exit following the figure, striking at it without touching it.
* * * * *
SCENE III.
PHILIP. -- PAUL.
PAUL [aside]. God be with you both! But scarce Has one vanished, when another Comes to haunt me. Why, I`m tempted By strange phantoms and hobgoblins Like another San Antonio:-- In this doorway I`ll ensconce me, Till my friend here kindly passes.
PHILIP. Love, ambitious, bold, deep-plotted, With the favours of a kingdom Me thou mak`st a prosperous lover. To the desert fled Polonia, Where, mid savage rocks and forests, Citizen of mighty mountains, Islander of lonely grottoes, She doth dwell, to Lesbia leaving Crown and kingdom; through a stronger Greed than love I Lesbia court,-- For a queen is worth my homage. From her trellis I have come, From a sweet and pleasant converse. But, what`s this? Each night I stumble On a man here at my doorstep. Who is there?
PAUL [aside]. To me he`s coming. Why on earth should every goblin Pounce on me?
PHILIP. Sir, Caballero.
PAUL. These are names I don`t acknowledge; He can`t speak to ME.
PHILIP. This house Is my home.
PAUL. Which I don`t covet; May you for an age enjoy it, Without billets.
PHILIP. If important Business in this street detains you (Not a word whereon I offer), Give me room that I may pass.
PAUL [aside]. Somewhat timid, though quite proper, Goblins can be cowards too.-- Yes, sir, for a certain office I am here; go in, and welcome; I no gentleman would stop here Bound for bed, nor is it right.
PHILIP. The condition I acknowledge.-- [Aside. Well, fine spectres, to be sure, Haunt this street: each night I notice That a man here comes before me, But when I approach him softly, Hereabouts on my own threshold, I, as now, have always lost him. But what matters this to me? [Exit.
[PAUL draws his sword and makes several flourishes. PAUL. As he`s gone, the right and proper Thing is this:-- Stay, stay, cold shadow, Whether you`re a ghost or ghostess, I can`t reach it. Why, by heaven! Air alone I cut and chop here. But if this is he we wait for In the night-time like two blockheads Faith! he is a lucky fellow To have got to bed so promptly. But another noise I hear Sounding from that dark street yonder. `Tis of swords and angry voices:-- There I run to reconnoitre. [Exit.
* * * * *
SCENE IV.
ANOTHER STREET.
The Muffled Figure and LUIS.
LUIS. Sir, already we have issued From that street; if aught there stopped us, We are here alone, and may Hand to hand resume the combat. And since powerless is my sword Thee to wound, I throw me on thee To know who thou art. Declare, Art thou demon, man, or monster? What! no answer? Then I thus Dare myself to solve the problem, [He tears the cloak from the Figure, and finds beneath it a skeleton. And find out . . . . Oh, save me, heaven! God! what`s this I see? what horrid Spectacle! What frightful vision! What death-threatening fearful portent! Stiff and stony corse, who art thou? That of dust and ashes formed Now dost live?
THE FIGURE. Not know thyself? This is thy most faithful portrait; I, alas! am Luis Enius. [Disappears.*
[footnote] *The interview between Luis Enius and the Skeleton, says a recent writer, "is a scene truly Calderonic -- the hour, the place, the intended assassin, and the sudden reflection of himself, with his guilty conscience impersonate before him; it reminds us of that wild fable of Jeremy Taylor or Fuller, about the bird with a human face, that feeds on human flesh until it chances to see its reflection in a stream, and then it pines away for grief that it has killed its fellow." -- WESTMINSTER REVIEW, vol. liv. p. 306.
LUIS. Save me, heaven! what words of horror! Save me, heaven! what sight of woe! Prey of shadows and misfortunes. Ah, I die. [He falls on the ground.
* * * * *
SCENE V.
PAUL. -- LUIS.
PAUL. It is the voice Of my master. Succour cometh Opportunely now in me. Sir!
LUIS. Ah! why return, dread monster? I am overwhelmed, I faint here At your voice.
PAUL [aside]. God help his noddle! He`s gone mad! -- Dread monster? No, [Aloud. I am Juan Paul, that donkey Who, not knowing why or wherefore, Is your servant.
LUIS. Ah! good, honest Paul, I knew you not, so frightened Am I. But at that why wonder, If myself I do not know? Did you see a fearful corse here, A dead body with a soul, An apparent man supported By his skeleton alone, Bones from which the flesh had rotted, Fingers rigid, gaunt, and cold, Naked trunk, uncouth, abhorrent, Vacant spaces whence the eyes, Having fallen, left bare the sockets?-- Whither has he gone?
PAUL. If I Saw that ghost, upon my honour, I could never say I saw it; For more dead than that dead body I had fallen on the other side At the moment.
LUIS. And no wonder; For my voice was mute, my breath Choked, my heart`s warm beat forgotten, Clothed with ice were all my senses, Shod with lead my feet, my forehead Cold with sweat, I saw suspended Heaven`s two mighty poles upon me, The brief Atlases sustaining Such a burden being my shoulders. It appeared as if there started Rocks from every tender blossom, Giants from each opening rose; For the earth`s disrupted hollows Wished from out their graves to cast Forth the dead who lay there rotten; Ah, among them I beheld Luis Enius! Heaven be softened! Hide me, hide me, from myself! Bury me in some deep corner Of earth`s centre! Let me never See myself, since no self-knowledge Have I had! But now I have it; Now I know I am that monster Of rebellion, who defied, In my madness, pride, and folly, God Himself; the same, whose crimes Are so numerous and so horrid, That it were slight punishment, If the whole wrath of the Godhead Was outpoured on me, and whilst God was God, eternal torments I should have to bear in hell. But I have this further knowledge, They were done against a God So divine, that He has promised To grant pardon, if my sins I with penitent tears acknowledge. Such I shed; and, Lord, to prove That to-day to be another I begin, being born anew, To Thy hands my soul I offer. Not as a strict judge then judge me, For the attributes of the Godhead Are His justice and His mercy; With the latter, not the former, Judge me, then, and fix what penance I shall do to gain that object. What will be the satisfaction Of my life?
[Music (within). The Purgatory.
LUIS. Bless me, heaven! what`s this I hear? A sweet strain divine and solemn; It appears a revelation From on high, since heaven doth often Help mysteriously the sinner. And since I herein acknowledge A divine interposition, I will go into the Purgatory, Called, of Patrick, and fulfil, Humbly, faithfully, the promise Which I gave him long ago, If it is my happy fortune To see Patrick. If the attempt Is, as rumour hath informed me, Most terrific, since no human Strength avails against the horrors Of the place, or resolution To endure the demons` torments, Still my sins I must remember Were as dreadful. Skilful doctors Give for dangerous diseases Dangerous remedies to stop them.-- Come, then, with me, Paul, and see How here penitent and prostrate At the bishop`s feet I`ll kneel, And confess, for greater wonder, All my awful sins aloud.
PAUL. Go alone, then, for that project, Since so brave a man as you are Has no need of an accomplice; And there`s no one I have heard of Who e`er went to hell escorted By his servant. I`ll go home, And live pleasantly in my cottage Without care. If ghosts there be, I`m content with matrimony. [Exit.
LUIS. Public were my sins, and so Public penance I will offer In atonement. Like one crazed, Crying in the crowded cross-ways, I`ll confess aloud my crimes. Men, wild beasts, rude mountains, forests, Globes celestial, flinty rocks, Tender plants, dry elms, thick coppice, Know that I am Luis Enius, Tremble at my name, that monster Once of pride, as now I am Of humility the wonder. I have faith and certain hope Of great happiness before me, If in God`s great name shall Patrick Aid me in the Purgatory. [Exit.
* * * * *
SCENE VI.
A WOOD, IN THE CENTRE OF WHICH IS SEEN A MOUNTAIN, FROM WHICH POLONIA DESCENDS.
POLONIA.
POLONIA. To Thee, O Lord, my spirit climbs, To Thee from every lonely hill I burn to sacrifice my will A thousand and a thousand times. And such my boundless love to Thee I wish each will of mine a living soul could be.
Would that my love I could have shown, By leaving for Thy sake, instead Of that poor crown that press`d my head, Some proud, imperial crown and throne -- Some empire which the sun surveys Through all its daily course and gilds with constant rays.
This lowly grot, `neath rocks uphurled, In which I dwell, though poor and small, A spur of that stupendous wall, The eighth great wonder of the world, Doth in its little space excel The grandest palace where a king doth dwell.
Far better on some natural lawn To see the morn its gems bestrew, Or watch it weeping pearls of dew Within the white arms of the dawn; Or view, before the sun, the stars Drive o`er the brightening plain their swiftly-fading cars.
Far better in the mighty main, As night comes on, and clouds grow grey, To see the golden coach of day Drive down amid the waves of Spain. But be it dark, or be it bright, O Lord! I praise Thy name by day and night.
Than to endure the inner strife, The specious glare, but real weight Of pomp, and power, and pride, and state, And all the vanities of life; How would we shudder could we deem That life itself, in truth, is but a fleeting dream.
* * * * *
SCENE VII.
LUIS. -- POLONIA.
LUIS [aside]. True to my purpose on I go, With footsteps firm and bosom brave, Seeking for that mysterious cave Wherein the pitying heavens will show How I salvation there may gain, By bearing in this life the Purgatorial pain. [To POLONIA. Tell me, O holy woman! thou Who in these wilds a home hast found, A dweller in this mountain ground Obedient to some sacred vow, Which is the road to Patrick`s cave, Where penitential man his soul in life may save?
POLONIA. O, happy traveller! who here Hast come so far in storm and shine, Within this treasury divine To feel and find salvation near, Well can I guide thee on thy way, Since `tis for this alone amid these wilds I stray.
Seest thou this mountain?
LUIS. Ah! I see My death in it.
POLONIA [aside]. My heart grows cold. Ah! who is this that I behold?
LUIS [aside]. I cannot think it. Is it she?
POLONIA [aside]. `Tis Luis, now I know.
LUIS [aside]. Perhaps illusion it may be To baffle my intent, and lead My erring feet astray. -- [to POLONIA}. Proceed.
POLONIA [aside]. Say, can it be to conquer me The common enemy doth send This spectre here?
LUIS. You do not speak.
POLONIA. Attend. This mighty mountain, rock bestrown, Full well the dreaded secret knows; But no one to its centre goes By any path o`er land alone: He who would see this wondrous cave Must in a bark put forth and tempt the lake`s dark wave.
[Aside.] I struggle with a wish to wreak Revenge, which pity doth subdue.
LUIS [aside]. It doth my happiness renew Once more to see and hear her speak.
POLONIA [aside]. Within me opposite thoughts contend.
LUIS [aside]. Ah, me! I die. -- You do not speak.
POLONIA. Attend. This darksome lake doth all surround The lofty mountain`s rugged base, And so to reach the awful place An easy passage may be found: A sacred convent in the island stands, Midway between the mountain and the sands.
Some pious priests inhabit there, And for this task alone they live, With loving zeal to freely give The helping hand, the strengthening prayer -- Confession, and the Holy Mass, And every needful help to all who thither pass.
Telling them what they first must do, Before they dare presume to go, Alive, within the realm of woe.-- [Aside.] Let not this enemy subdue My soul, O Lord!
LUIS [aside]. My hopes are fair. Let me not feel, O Lord! the anguish of despair,
Seeing before my startled sight My greatest, deepest crime arise; Let not the fiend my soul that tries, Subdue me in this dreadful fight.
POLONIA [aside]. `Gainst what a powerful foe must I defend Myself to-day!
LUIS. You do not speak.
POLONIA. Attend.
LUIS. With quicker speed your story tell, For well I know my soul hath need That I should go with swifter speed!
POLONIA. And me it doth import as well That you should go away.
LUIS. Agreed. Now, woman, point the way to where my path doth lead.
POLONIA. No one accompanied can brave The terrors of this gloomy lake; And so a skiff you needs must take, And try alone the icy wave; Being in that most trying strait The absolute master of your acts and fate.
Come where within a secret cave Beside the shore the boat doth lie, And trusting in the Lord on high, Embark upon the crystal wave Of this remote lone inland sea.
LUIS. My life and all I have I place, O Lord! in Thee. And so I trust me to the bark; But, O my soul! what sight is here, A coffin doth the bark appear; And I upon the waters dark Alone must cross the icy tide. [He enters.
POLONIA. Oh! turn not back, but follow and confide
LUIS [within]. I`ve conquered! sweet Polonia`s shade, Since sight of thee has not undone My shuddering soul.
POLONIA. And I have won, Here in this Babylon delayed, O`er wrath and rage the victory.
LUIS [within]. Thy feigned resemblance does not frighten me, Though thou dost take a form Might tempt my steps astray And make me turn despairing from my way.
POLONIA. Thy fear doth badly thee inform, Poor to be brave and rich to be afraid, For I Polonia am, and not her shade, The same that thou didst slay, But who by God`s decree Restored to life, even in this misery, Is happier far to-day.
LUIS [within]. Since I my sinful state Confess, and feel too well its fearful weight, Thy wrong, oh, pardon too!
POLONIA. I give it, and approve of thy design.
LUIS [within]. My faith, at least, I never will resign.
POLONIA. That grace will be thy safeguard.
LUIS [within]. Then, adieu!
POLONIA. Adieu!
LUIS [within]. May God in pity save.
POLONIA. And bring thee back victorious from the cave.
* * * * *
SCENE VIII.
THE ENTRANCE OF A CONVENT -- AT THE END THE CAVE OF PATRICK.
Two Canons Regular; afterwards Luis.
FIRST CANON. See, the waters of the lake Move although no breeze doth blow:* Without doubt to-day some pilgrim Roweth to this island shore.
[footnote] *Single asonante in the long accented o, which is kept up to the end of the Scene.
SECOND CANON. Come unto the strand to see Who can be so brave and bold As to seek our gloomy dwelling, Crossing the dark waters o`er.
[Enter LUIS. LUIS. Here my boat, my coffin, rather, On the billows I bestow. Who his sepulchre has ever Steered, as I, through fire and snow? What a pleasant spot is this! Here has Spring, methinks, invoked Flowers of high and low degree To assemble at her court. But this dismal mountain here, How unlike the plain below! Yet they are the better friends By the contrasts that they show. there the mournful birds of prey Hoarsely croak, presaging woe, Here the warblers in their joy Charm us with their tuneful notes. There the torrents leaping headlong Fright us with their frenzied roar, Here the crystal streamlets gliding Mirror back the sun`s bright gold. Half way `twixt that ugliness And this beauty, I behold A plain building whose grave front Fear and love at once provokes.
FIRST CANON. Happy wanderer, who here Hast arrived with heart so bold, Come unto my arms.
LUIS. The ground That you tread on suits me more. Oh, for charity conduct me To the Prior of your fold, To the Abbot of this convent.
FIRST CANON. Though unworthy, you behold Him in me. Speak. What`s your wish?
LUIS. Father, if my name I told, I`m afraid that swiftly flying, With a terror uncontrolled, You would leave me: for my works Are so shocking to unfold, That to see them not, the sun Wraps him round in mourning robes. I am an abyss of crimes, A wild sea that has no shore; I am a broad map of guilt, And the greatest sinner known. Yes, in me, to tell it briefly In one comprehensive word (Here my breath doth almost fail me), Luis Enius behold! I come here this cave to enter, If for sins so manifold Aught can ever satisfy, Let my penance thus atone To the Bishop of Hibernia I`ve confessed, and am absolved, Who informed of my intention With a gracious love consoled All my fears, and unto thee Sent these letters I unfold.
FIRST CANON. Do not in a single day Take, my son, a step so bold, For these things require precaution More than can at once be told. Stay here as our guest some days, Then at leisure we can both See about it and decide.
LUIS. No, my father, no, oh, no! Never from the ground I`ll rise, Where here prostrate I am thrown, Till you grant to me this good. It was God that touched my soul, And inspired me to come here; Not a vain desire to know, Not ambition to find out Secrets God, perchance, withholds. Do not baffle this intention, For the call is heaven`s alone. Oh, my father! yield in pity, With me in my griefs condole, Give my sorrows consolation, Heal the anguish of my soul.
FIRST CANON. Luis, you have not considered what you ask of me; you know Nothing of the infernal torments You must bear: to undergo These your strength is insufficient. Many are there, more the woe! Who go in, but few, alas! Who return.
LUIS. Your threats forebode Much; but still they fright not me; For I do protest, I go But to purge away my sins, Which if numbered are much more Than the atoms of the sun And the sands upon the shore. I will ever have my hope Firmly fixed upon the Lord, At whose holy name even hell Is subdued.
FIRST CANON. The fervid glow Of your words compels me now To unlock the awful doors. Luis, you behold the cave: See! [He opens the mouth of the cave.
LUIS. Oh, save me, gracious God!
FIRST CANON. What! dismayed?
LUIS. No, not dismayed; Still it scared me to behold.
FIRST CANON. I admonish you again, For no lesser cause to go, Than a firm belief that there For your sins you may atone.
LUIS. Father, I am in the cave: Listen to my voice once more, Men and wild beasts, skies and mountains, Day and night, and sun and moon, To you all I here protest, Ay, a thousand times make known, That I enter here to suffer Torments for my sins untold; For so great, so dread a penance Is but little to atone For such sins as mine, believing That the cave salvation holds.
FIRST CANON. Enter then, and in your mouth, As within your heart`s deep core, Be the name of Jesus.
LUIS. Be With me, Lord, O gracious Lord, For here, armed but with Thy faith, I am pitted `gainst my foe In the open field. That name Will my enemy o`erthrow. Crossing myself many times I advance. Oh, save me, God! [He enters the cave which they close.
FIRST CANON. Of the many who have entered None has equal courage shown. Oh, enable him, just Jesus, To resist the demon host And their wiles, relying ever Upon Thee, divinest Lord. [Exeunt.
* * * * *
SCENE IX.
LESBIA, PHILIP, LEOGAIRE, The Captain, and POLONIA.
LESBIA. Before we reach the place, Whither you wish to lead us, for a space Let us say why we came To see you here to-day: a definite aim All of us here has brought.
POLONIA. Speak as we go whatever be your thought, Still following where I lead, For I a sight that doth all sights exceed Will bring you here to see.
LESBIA. What, then, our wishes were you hear from me. Polonia, you desired In this wild mountain waste to live retired, Making of me the heir, While living, of your kingdom. I would share With you in turn my plans, however small, And so I hither come to tell you all. My will is in your hands; I ask not counsel, sister, but commands. A single woman scarce can ever be Strong through advice, and of necessity She must be married.
POLONIA. Yes; and if your choice Has fallen on Philip I may well rejoice, For then to me you`ll owe Both crown and husband.
PHILIP. May you live whilst glow The sun`s bright beams, that orb which dies at night, And Phoenix of its rays is born with morning`s light.
POLONIA. Then since you thus have gained Your wish, ye two, now free and unconstrained, Listen to what I tell, And all who hear me listen too, as well. With all the outward show Of fervour came a man, whom we all know, Seeking for Patrick`s cave, To enter there, and so his soul to save. He entered it, and cometh forth today, And `tis because my terror and dismay Are balanced by my wonder, that with me I bring you to behold this holy prodigy. I do not tell you who he is lest fear Should so my heart make craven, that I ne`er Could reach the end I sought:-- `Tis for this object that you here are brought.
LESBIA. It is but only right That I should mingle terror with delight.
POLONIA. If strength from him hath fled, And he extended in the cave lies dead, At least `twill show His punishment; and if he comes, we`ll know The mystery that is here; If safe he comes, who cometh forth, through fear Perchance he may not speak, But, flying men, some solitude may seek To live and die alone.
LEOGAIRE. What mighty mysteries lie here unknown.
CAPTAIN. The time is opportune that we come here, For the religious whom we see draw near, All bathed in tears, now go To the cave`s mouth in solemn, silent row To throw the gates aside.
* * * * *
SCENE X.
The procession advances to the cave; the gates are opened by the Prior and his assistants. LUIS ENIUS comes forth, astonished.-- THE SAME.
PRIOR. And those of heaven, O Lord, keep open wide To penitent tears and sighs. May this poor sinner from these dungeons rise, This dark and dismal place, Where never shines the radiance of Thy face.
POLONIA. The gate is opened.
PRIOR. Oh, what happiness!
PHILIP. `Tis Luis!
LUIS. Bless me, heaven! in pity bless! Ah! is it possible that I am here Again on earth after so many a year, And that once more I see The light of the sun?
CAPTAIN. How rapt!
LEOGAIRE. How dazed is he!
PRIOR. Embrace us all, my son.
LUIS. My arms were prison chains to every one. Polonia, since thou`rt here, Thy pity I may claim without a fear. And thou, O Philip, know That thrice an angel saved thee from the blow Of my sharp sword: two nights I watched for thee To slay thee; may my error pardoned be. Now flying from myself, oh, let me hide, And in some wilderness abide -- Far from the world in solitude and pain, For he who saw what I have seen would feign, So suffering live, so die.
PRIOR. Then on the part of God, O Enius! I Command thee what thou hast seen at once to say.
LUIS. So sacred a command I must obey:-- And that the startled world may now begin A better course, and man from mortal sin My words may waken like some midnight wail, Listen, O grave assembly to my tale. After all the preparations, Fit and solemn were effected,* Which in such a perilous case Might be needed and expected, And when I from all around me, Firm in faith, with courage strengthened, Tenderly farewell had taken This dark cavern here to enter, I my trust reposed in God, And my lips repeating ever Those mysterious, mystic words, At which even the demons tremble, I then placed me on the threshold, Where, until, as I expected, They would close the gate, I stood. It was closed, and I remember Then I found me in black night, Whence the light was so ejected, That I closed on it mine eyes. (A strange way it seems, but certain To see better in the dark.) With my lids thus closed together On I went, and felt a wall Which in front of me extended; And by following it, and groping For about the length of twenty Paces, came upon some rocks, And perceived through a small crevice Of this rugged mountain wall That a doubtful glimmer entered Of a light that was not light, As when the day the dark disperses, If `tis morning, or not morning, Oft the twilight is uncertain. With light steps a path pursuing, By the left-hand side I entered, When I felt a strange commotion; The firm earth began to tremble, And upheaving `neath my feet, Ruin and convulsion threatened. Stupified I stopped there, when With a voice which woke my senses From forgetfulness and fainting, Loud a thunder-clap re-echoed, And the ground on which I stood Bursting open in the centre, It appeared as if I fell To a depth where I lay buried In the loosened stones and earth Which had after me descended. Then I found me in a hall Built of jasper, where the presence Of the chisel was made known By its ornate architecture. Through a door of bronze twelve men Then advanced and came directly Where I stood, who, clothed alike In unspotted snow-white dresses, With a courteous air received me, And too humbly did me reverence. One, who seemed to be among them The superior, said: "Remember That in God you place your faith, And that you be not dejected In your battle with the demons; For if moved by what they threaten, Or may promise, you turn back, You will have to dwell for ever In the lowest depths of hell Amid torments most excessive." Angels were these men for me, And so greatly was I strengthened By their counsel and advice That revived I once more felt me. On a sudden then the whole Hall unto mine eyes presented Nothing but infernal visions, Fallen angels, the first rebels, And in forms so horrible, So disgusting, that resemblance It would be in vain to look for; And one said to me: "Demented Reckless fool, who here hast wished Prematurely to present thee To thy destined punishment, And the pains that thou deservest; If thy sins are so immense, That thyself must needs condemn them, Since thou in the eye of God Never can have hope of mercy, Why has thou come here thyself To endure them? Back to earth, then, Go, oh! go, and end thy life; And as thou hast lived, so perish. Then again thou`lt come to see us; For hath hell prepared already That dread seat in which thou must Sit for ever and for ever."-- I did answer not a word; And then giving me some heavy Blows, my hands and feet they bound, Tieing them with thongs together, And then caught and wounded me With sharp hooks of burning metal, Dragging me through all the cloisters, Where they lit a fire and left me Headlong plunged amid the flames. I but cried, "O Jesus! help me." At the words the demons fled, And the fire went out and ended Then they brought me to a plain Where the blackened earth presented Fruits of thistles and of thorns, `Stead of pink and rose sweet scented. Here a biting wind passed by, Which with subtle sharpness entered Even my bones, whose faintest breath Like the keenest sword-edge cleft me. Here in the profoundest depths Sadly, mournfully lamented Myriad souls, their parents cursing From whose loins they had descended. Such despairing shrieks and cries, Such blaspheming screams were blended, Such atrocious oaths and curses So repeated and incessant, That the very demons shuddered. I passed on, and in a meadow Found me next, whose plants and grasses Were all flames, which waved and bent them, As when in the burning August Wave the gold ears all together. So immense it was, the sight Never could make out where ended This red field, and in it lay An uncountable assemblage All recumbent in the fire; Through their bodies and their members Burning spikes and nails were driven; These with feet and hands extended Were held nailed upon the ground, Vipers of red fire the entrails Gnawed of some; while others lying, With their teeth in maniac frenzy Bit the earth; and some there were Piecemeal who themselves dismembered, And who seemed to die, but only To revive and die for ever. There the ministers of death Flung me from them bound and helpless, But at the sweet name of Jesus All their fury fled and left me. I passed on, and found me where Some were cured, by a strange method, Of their cruel wounds and torments; Lead and burning pitch were melted, And being poured upon their sores Made a cautery most dreadful. Who that hears me will not mourn? Who that hears this awful lesson Will not sigh and will not weep, Will not fear and will not tremble? Then I saw a certain building, Out of which bright rays extended From the windows and the doors, As when conflagration settles On a house, the flame bursts forth Where an opening is presented. "This," they told me, "is the villa Of delights, the bath of pleasures, The abode of the luxurious, Where are punished all those women Who were in the other life, From frivolity excessive, Too much given to scented waters, Unguents, rouges, baths, and perfumes."-- I went in, and there beheld, In a tank of cold snow melted, Many lovely women bathing, With an upturned look of terror; Underneath the water they Were the prey of snakes and serpents, For the fishes and the sirens Of this sea they represented; In the clear transparent crystal Stiff and frozen were their members, Icy hard their hair was lifted, Chattering struck their teeth together. Passing out, the demons brought me To a mountain so tremendous In its height, that as it rose Through the sky its peak dissevered, If it did not tear and rend, The vast azure veil celestial; In the middle of this peak A volcano stood, which, belching Flames, appeared as if to spit them In the very face of heaven. From this burning cone, this crater, Fire at intervals ascended In which issued many souls, Who again its womb re-entered, Oft repeating and renewing This ascending and descending. At this time a scorching wind Caught me when I least expected, Blowing me from where I stood, So that instantly it set me In the depths of that abyss. I too was shot up: a second Wind-gust came, that with it brought Myriad legions, who impelled me Rudely to another part, Where it seemed I saw assembled All the other souls I had seen, But who here were all collected; And though this was the abode Where the pains were most excessive, I remarked that all therein Faces bore of glad expression, Countenances calm and sweet, No impatience in their gestures Or their words; but with their eyes Fixed on heaven, as if thus set there To ask mercy, ever weeping Tears of tenderness and penance. That it was the Purgatory I at once by this detected, Where the happy souls are purged from Their more venial offences. I was not subdued even here, Though the demons stormed and threatened Me the more: I rather felt By the sight renewed and strengthened. Then they, seeing that they could not Shake my constancy, presented To my eyes their greatest torments, That which is in an especial Sense called hell; and so they brought me To a river, all the herbage Of whose banks was flowers of fire, And whose stream was sulphur melted; The dread monsters of its tide Were the hydras and the serpents; It was very wide, and o`er it Was a narrow bridge suspended, Which but seemed a line, no more, And so delicate and slender That in my opinion no one Without breaking it could ever Pass across. "Look here," they said, "By this narrow way `tis destined Thou must cross; see thou the means. And for thy o`erwhelming terror See how those have fared who tried Before thee." and then directly I saw those who tried to pass Fall into the stream, where serpents Tore them in a thousand pieces With their claws and teeth`s sharp edges. I invoked the name of God, And could dare with it to venture To the other side to pass, Without yielding to the terror Of the winds and of the waves, Though they fearfully beset me. Yes I passed, and in a wood, So delightful and so fertile, Found me, that in it I could, After what had passed, refresh me. On my way as I advanced, Cedars, palms, their boughs extended, Trees of paradise indeed, As I may with strictness term them; All the ground being covered over With the rose and pink together Formed a carpet, in whose hues White and green and red were blended. There the amorous song-birds sang Tenderly their sweet distresses, Keeping, with the thousand fountains Of the streams, due time and measure. Then upon my vision broke A great city, proud and splendid, Which had even the sun itself For its towers` and turrets` endings; All the gates were of pure gold, Into which had been inserted Exquisitely, diamonds, rubies, Topaz, chrysolite, and emerald. Ere I reached the gates they opened, And the saints in long procession Solemnly advanced to meet me, Men and women, youths and elders, Boys and girls and children came, All so joyful and contented. Then the seraphim and angels, In a thousand choirs advancing, To their golden instruments Sang the symphonies of heaven; After them at last approached The most glorious and resplendent Patrick, the great patriarch, Who his gratulations telling That I had fulfilled my word Ere I died, as he expected, He embraced me; all displaying Joy and gladness in my welfare. Thus encouraged he dismissed me, Telling me no mortal ever, While in life, that glorious city Of the saints could hope to enter; That once more unto the world I should go my days to end there. Finally my way retracing, I came back, quite unmolested By the dark infernal spirits, And at last the gate of entrance Having reached, you all came forward To receive me and attend me. And since I from so much danger Have escaped, oh! deign to let me, Pious fathers, here remain Till my life is happily ended.**
[footnote] *Asonante in e--e, which is kept up to the end.
[footnote] **For the account of St. Patrick`s Purgatory, as given by Messingham, see Notes.
* * * * *
For with this the history closes, As it is to us presented By Dionysius the Carthusian, With Henricus Salteriensis, Matthew Paris, Ranulph Higden, And Caesarius Heisterbacensis, Marcus Marulus, Mombritius, David Rothe, the prudent prelate, And Vice-Primate of all Ireland, Belarminus, Dimas Serpi, Bede, Jacobus, and Solinus, Messingham, and to express it In a word, the Christian faith And true piety that defend it. For the play is ended where Its applause, I hope, commences.*
[footnote] *For an explanation of this list of names, now for the first time correctly printed, see Note on "The authorities for the Legend, as given by Calderon."
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