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Percy Bysshe Shelley - Delphi Poets Series

Page 93

by Percy Bysshe Shelley


  That lodestar of the ages, to whose beam

  The winged years speed o’er the intervals 185

  Of their unequal revolutions; nor

  Heaven itself, whose beautiful bright stars

  Rule and adorn the world, can ever make

  The least division between thee and me,

  Since now I find a refuge in thy favour. 190

  SCENE 3.

  THE DAEMON TEMPTS JUSTINA, WHO IS A CHRISTIAN.

  DAEMON:

  Abyss of Hell! I call on thee,

  Thou wild misrule of thine own anarchy!

  From thy prison-house set free

  The spirits of voluptuous death,

  That with their mighty breath 5

  They may destroy a world of virgin thoughts;

  Let her chaste mind with fancies thick as motes

  Be peopled from thy shadowy deep,

  Till her guiltless fantasy

  Full to overflowing be! 10

  And with sweetest harmony,

  Let birds, and flowers, and leaves, and all things move

  To love, only to love.

  Let nothing meet her eyes

  But signs of Love’s soft victories; 15

  Let nothing meet her ear

  But sounds of Love’s sweet sorrow,

  So that from faith no succour she may borrow,

  But, guided by my spirit blind

  And in a magic snare entwined, 20

  She may now seek Cyprian.

  Begin, while I in silence bind

  My voice, when thy sweet song thou hast began.

  A VOICE (WITHIN):

  What is the glory far above

  All else in human life?

  ALL:

  Love! love! 25

  (WHILE THESE WORDS ARE SUNG, THE DAEMON GOES OUT AT ONE DOOR, AND JUSTINA ENTERS AT ANOTHER.)

  THE FIRST VOICE:

  There is no form in which the fire

  Of love its traces has impressed not.

  Man lives far more in love’s desire

  Than by life’s breath, soon possessed not.

  If all that lives must love or die, 30

  All shapes on earth, or sea, or sky,

  With one consent to Heaven cry

  That the glory far above

  All else in life is —

  ALL:

  Love! oh, Love!

  JUSTINA:

  Thou melancholy Thought which art 35

  So flattering and so sweet, to thee

  When did I give the liberty

  Thus to afflict my heart?

  What is the cause of this new Power

  Which doth my fevered being move, 40

  Momently raging more and more?

  What subtle Pain is kindled now

  Which from my heart doth overflow

  Into my senses? —

  ALL:

  Love! oh, Love!

  JUSTINA:

  ‘Tis that enamoured Nightingale 45

  Who gives me the reply;

  He ever tells the same soft tale

  Of passion and of constancy

  To his mate, who rapt and fond,

  Listening sits, a bough beyond. 50

  Be silent, Nightingale — no more

  Make me think, in hearing thee

  Thus tenderly thy love deplore,

  If a bird can feel his so,

  What a man would feel for me. 55

  And, voluptuous Vine, O thou

  Who seekest most when least pursuing, —

  To the trunk thou interlacest

  Art the verdure which embracest,

  And the weight which is its ruin, — 60

  No more, with green embraces, Vine,

  Make me think on what thou lovest, —

  For whilst thus thy boughs entwine

  I fear lest thou shouldst teach me, sophist,

  How arms might be entangled too. 65

  Light-enchanted Sunflower, thou

  Who gazest ever true and tender

  On the sun’s revolving splendour!

  Follow not his faithless glance

  With thy faded countenance, 70

  Nor teach my beating heart to fear,

  If leaves can mourn without a tear,

  How eyes must weep! O Nightingale,

  Cease from thy enamoured tale, —

  Leafy Vine, unwreathe thy bower, 75

  Restless Sunflower, cease to move, —

  Or tell me all, what poisonous Power

  Ye use against me —

  ALL:

  Love! Love! Love!

  JUSTINA:

  It cannot be! — Whom have I ever loved?

  Trophies of my oblivion and disdain, 80

  Floro and Lelio did I not reject?

  And Cyprian? —

  (SHE BECOMES TROUBLED AT THE NAME OF CYPRIAN.)

  Did I not requite him

  With such severity, that he has fled

  Where none has ever heard of him again? —

  Alas! I now begin to fear that this 85

  May be the occasion whence desire grows bold,

  As if there were no danger. From the moment

  That I pronounced to my own listening heart,

  ‘Cyprian is absent!’ — O me miserable!

  I know not what I feel!

  (MORE CALMLY.)

  It must be pity 90

  To think that such a man, whom all the world

  Admired, should be forgot by all the world,

  And I the cause.

  (SHE AGAIN BECOMES TROUBLED.)

  And yet if it were pity,

  Floro and Lelio might have equal share,

  For they are both imprisoned for my sake. 95

  (CALMLY.)

  Alas! what reasonings are these? it is

  Enough I pity him, and that, in vain,

  Without this ceremonious subtlety.

  And, woe is me! I know not where to find him now,

  Even should I seek him through this wide world. 100

  (ENTER DAEMON.)

  DAEMON:

  Follow, and I will lead thee where he is.

  JUSTINA:

  And who art thou, who hast found entrance hither,

  Into my chamber through the doors and locks?

  Art thou a monstrous shadow which my madness

  Has formed in the idle air?

  DAEMON:

  No. I am one 105

  Called by the Thought which tyrannizes thee

  From his eternal dwelling; who this day

  Is pledged to bear thee unto Cyprian.

  JUSTINA:

  So shall thy promise fail. This agony

  Of passion which afflicts my heart and soul 110

  May sweep imagination in its storm;

  The will is firm.

  DAEMON:

  Already half is done

  In the imagination of an act.

  The sin incurred, the pleasure then remains;

  Let not the will stop half-way on the road. 115

  JUSTINA:

  I will not be discouraged, nor despair,

  Although I thought it, and although ‘tis true

  That thought is but a prelude to the deed: —

  Thought is not in my power, but action is:

  I will not move my foot to follow thee. 120

  DAEMON:

  But a far mightier wisdom than thine own

  Exerts itself within thee, with such power

  Compelling thee to that which it inclines

  That it shall force thy step; how wilt thou then

  Resist, Justina?

  JUSTINA:

  By my free-will.

  DAEMON:

  I 125

  Must force thy will.

  JUSTINA:

  It is invincible;

  It were not free if thou hadst power upon it.

  (HE DRAWS, BUT CANNOT MOVE HER.)

  DAEMON:

  Come, where a pleasure waits thee.

  JUSTINA:

 
It were bought

  Too dear.

  DAEMON:

  ‘Twill soothe thy heart to softest peace.

  JUSTINA:

  ‘Tis dread captivity.

  DAEMON:

  ‘Tis joy, ‘tis glory. 130

  JUSTINA:

  ‘Tis shame, ‘tis torment, ‘tis despair.

  DAEMON:

  But how

  Canst thou defend thyself from that or me,

  If my power drags thee onward?

  JUSTINA:

  My defence

  Consists in God.

  (HE VAINLY ENDEAVOURS TO FORCE HER, AND AT LAST RELEASES HER.)

  DAEMON:

  Woman, thou hast subdued me,

  Only by not owning thyself subdued. 135

  But since thou thus findest defence in God,

  I will assume a feigned form, and thus

  Make thee a victim of my baffled rage.

  For I will mask a spirit in thy form

  Who will betray thy name to infamy, 140

  And doubly shall I triumph in thy loss,

  First by dishonouring thee, and then by turning

  False pleasure to true ignominy.

  (EXIT.)

  JUSTINA: I

  Appeal to Heaven against thee; so that Heaven

  May scatter thy delusions, and the blot 145

  Upon my fame vanish in idle thought,

  Even as flame dies in the envious air,

  And as the floweret wanes at morning frost;

  And thou shouldst never — But, alas! to whom

  Do I still speak? — Did not a man but now 150

  Stand here before me? — No, I am alone,

  And yet I saw him. Is he gone so quickly?

  Or can the heated mind engender shapes

  From its own fear? Some terrible and strange

  Peril is near. Lisander! father! lord! 155

  Livia! —

  (ENTER LISANDER AND LIVIA.)

  LISANDER:

  Oh, my daughter! What?

  LIVIA:

  What!

  JUSTINA:

  Saw you

  A man go forth from my apartment now? —

  I scarce contain myself!

  LISANDER:

  A man here!

  JUSTINA:

  Have you not seen him?

  LIVIA:

  No, Lady.

  JUSTINA: I saw him.

  LISANDER: ‘Tis impossible; the doors 160

  Which led to this apartment were all locked.

  LIVIA (ASIDE):

  I daresay it was Moscon whom she saw,

  For he was locked up in my room.

  LISANDER:

  It must

  Have been some image of thy fantasy.

  Such melancholy as thou feedest is 165

  Skilful in forming such in the vain air

  Out of the motes and atoms of the day.

  LIVIA:

  My master’s in the right.

  JUSTINA:

  Oh, would it were

  Delusion; but I fear some greater ill.

  I feel as if out of my bleeding bosom 170

  My heart was torn in fragments; ay,

  Some mortal spell is wrought against my frame;

  So potent was the charm that, had not God

  Shielded my humble innocence from wrong,

  I should have sought my sorrow and my shame 175

  With willing steps. — Livia, quick, bring my cloak,

  For I must seek refuge from these extremes

  Even in the temple of the highest God

  Where secretly the faithful worship.

  LIVIA:

  Here.

  JUSTINA (PUTTING ON HER CLOAK):

  In this, as in a shroud of snow, may I 180

  Quench the consuming fire in which I burn,

  Wasting away!

  LISANDER:

  And I will go with thee.

  LIVIA:

  When I once see them safe out of the house

  I shall breathe freely.

  JUSTINA:

  So do I confide

  In thy just favour, Heaven!

  LISANDER:

  Let us go. 185

  JUSTINA:

  Thine is the cause, great God! turn for my sake,

  And for Thine own, mercifully to me!

  STANZAS FROM CALDERON’S CISMA DE INGLATERRA.

  TRANSLATED BY MEDWIN AND CORRECTED BY SHELLEY.

  (Published by Medwin, “Life of Shelley”, 1847, with Shelley’s corrections in ‘‘.)

  1.

  Hast thou not seen, officious with delight,

  Move through the illumined air about the flower

  The Bee, that fears to drink its purple light,

  Lest danger lurk within that Rose’s bower?

  Hast thou not marked the moth’s enamoured flight 5

  About the Taper’s flame at evening hour;

  ‘Till kindle in that monumental fire

  His sunflower wings their own funereal pyre?

  2.

  My heart, its wishes trembling to unfold.

  Thus round the Rose and Taper hovering came, 10

  ‘And Passion’s slave, Distrust, in ashes cold.

  Smothered awhile, but could not quench the flame,’ —

  Till Love, that grows by disappointment bold,

  And Opportunity, had conquered Shame;

  And like the Bee and Moth, in act to close, 15

  ‘I burned my wings, and settled on the Rose.’

  SCENES FROM THE FAUST OF GOETHE.

  (Published in part (Scene 2) in “The Liberal”, No. 1, 1822; in full, by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.)

  SCENE 1. — PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN.

  THE LORD AND THE HOST OF HEAVEN.

  ENTER THREE ARCHANGELS.

  RAPHAEL:

  The sun makes music as of old

  Amid the rival spheres of Heaven,

  On its predestined circle rolled

  With thunder speed: the Angels even

  Draw strength from gazing on its glance, 5

  Though none its meaning fathom may: —

  The world’s unwithered countenance

  Is bright as at Creation’s day.

  GABRIEL:

  And swift and swift, with rapid lightness,

  The adorned Earth spins silently, 10

  Alternating Elysian brightness

  With deep and dreadful night; the sea

  Foams in broad billows from the deep

  Up to the rocks, and rocks and Ocean,

  Onward, with spheres which never sleep, 15

  Are hurried in eternal motion.

  MICHAEL:

  And tempests in contention roar

  From land to sea, from sea to land;

  And, raging, weave a chain of power,

  Which girds the earth, as with a band. — 20

  A flashing desolation there,

  Flames before the thunder’s way;

  But Thy servants, Lord, revere

  The gentle changes of Thy day.

  CHORUS OF THE THREE:

  The Angels draw strength from Thy glance, 25

  Though no one comprehend Thee may; —

  Thy world’s unwithered countenance

  Is bright as on Creation’s day.

  GABRIEL:

  And swift, and inconceivably swift

  The adornment of earth winds itself round,

  And exchanges Paradise-clearness

  With deep dreadful night.

  The sea foams in broad waves

  From its deep bottom, up to the rocks,

  And rocks and sea are torn on together

  In the eternal swift course of the spheres.

  MICHAEL:

  And storms roar in emulation

  From sea to land, from land to sea,

  And make, raging, a chain

  Of deepest operation round about.

  There flames a flashing destruction

  Before the path of
the thunderbolt.

  But Thy servants, Lord, revere

  The gentle alternations of Thy day.

  CHORUS:

  Thy countenance gives the Angels strength,

  Though none can comprehend Thee:

  And all Thy lofty works

  Are excellent as at the first day.

  Such is a literal translation of this astonishing chorus; it is impossible to represent in another language the melody of the versification; even the volatile strength and delicacy of the ideas escape in the crucible of translation, and the reader is surprised to find a caput mortuum. — (SHELLEY’S (ENTER MEPHISTOPHELES.)

  MEPHISTOPHELES:

  As thou, O Lord, once more art kind enough

  To interest Thyself in our affairs, 30

  And ask, ‘How goes it with you there below?’

  And as indulgently at other times

  Thou tookest not my visits in ill part,

  Thou seest me here once more among Thy household.

  Though I should scandalize this company, 35

  You will excuse me if I do not talk

  In the high style which they think fashionable;

  My pathos certainly would make You laugh too,

  Had You not long since given over laughing.

  Nothing know I to say of suns and worlds; 40

  I observe only how men plague themselves; —

  The little god o’ the world keeps the same stamp,

  As wonderful as on creation’s day: —

  A little better would he live, hadst Thou

  Not given him a glimpse of Heaven’s light 45

  Which he calls reason, and employs it only

  To live more beastlily than any beast.

  With reverence to Your Lordship be it spoken,

  He’s like one of those long-legged grasshoppers,

  Who flits and jumps about, and sings for ever 50

  The same old song i’ the grass. There let him lie,

  Burying his nose in every heap of dung.

  THE LORD:

  Have you no more to say? Do you come here

  Always to scold, and cavil, and complain?

  Seems nothing ever right to you on earth? 55

  MEPHISTOPHELES:

  No, Lord! I find all there, as ever, bad at best.

  Even I am sorry for man’s days of sorrow;

  I could myself almost give up the pleasure

  Of plaguing the poor things.

  THE LORD:

  Knowest thou Faust?

  MEPHISTOPHELES:

  The Doctor?

  THE LORD:

  Ay; My servant Faust.

  MEPHISTOPHELES:

  In truth 60

  He serves You in a fashion quite his own;

  And the fool’s meat and drink are not of earth.

  His aspirations bear him on so far

  That he is half aware of his own folly,

  For he demands from Heaven its fairest star, 65

  And from the earth the highest joy it bears,

  Yet all things far, and all things near, are vain

  To calm the deep emotions of his breast.

  THE LORD:

  Though he now serves Me in a cloud of error,

 

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