Was she I loved. The subtle fever waked
Me through long nights, my dry lips went unslaked.
Daphne my vision, her white arms, her hair.
Fair image, fevered dream! Our vows, our care,
Love’s sighs! O Eros! winged prince whose grace
Touches the virgin’s breast and her soft face,
Man’s torment, and the smile on heaven’s vault!
Hermas, forget not, when I ate thy salt
By the ancestral hearth that summer’s day,
Thy promise I should bear thy maid away.
Her young affection she hath not denied.
I claim thy promise, and I claim my bride.
There waits for Daphne, more to me than gold,
An ivoried chamber in my vessel’s hold,
Glittering gear and Orient tissues fine,
Goblets, and perfumes shut in onyx, shine
Of brazen vessels great, all he bestows
Whom the gods bless, on his expected spouse.
My hope it is, when we two leave your shores
To bend green boughs about the bending oars,
Decked with bright flowers thickstrewn as are the stars
To cleave the happy air with blossomed spars.
HERMAS.
No, verily, my instinct hath not erred.
Rightly I gave her thee, my friend preferred!
For thou art just of deed and wise of word,
And with our ancient law thy ways accord.
Where counsel shall be sought, or deeds be done,
Thou yet shalt prove to be thy father’s son.
Daphne, my child, is fair, and skilled, in sooth,
In all that may employ the timid youth
Of maids who keep the shadow of the house
And save their flower for their proper spouse.
The best to the most worthy should incline,
The straight young elm support the clinging vine,
And honey lend its sweetness to the strength
Of wine. But human hopes prove vain at length,
And fickle minds are caught unendingly
In the strong toils of our harsh Destiny.
Friend, it would grieve me were thy soul distressed
With heavy words, and fears but half-confessed.
Some breath of ill, some humours sprung of naught,
Weigh on my child and sombre all her thought.
She shuns mine eyes which in her beauty took
Refreshment, and drew pleasure from her look.
She speaks not, hides, and weeps. One well may know
She suffers not from any earthly woe.
She is possessed, some demon holds her heart.
The Galilean god hath played his part;
And this dead god, whose ghost my Daphne haunts,
Loveth not lovers, nor their bridal chants.
He loves not life and ever finds his good
In want and thirst and barren womanhood.
There is one leads my daughter, leads her blind,
Helpless, to him who hates our human kind.
The gods thy mother took; we mourn her still,
Good Pythias; another, by their will,
Old as the many-wintered crow, is left
To gather years and be of sense bereft.
But this late hour ill suits my train of years
I will go close mine eyes and lose my cares.
Hesperus, the lovers’ star, now shows, benign,
Low in the western sky, his torch divine.
Sleep in security beneath my roof,
O son of Lakon! On thy couch, though proof
The narrow door against the midnight dew,
Spread this great lion skin of tawny hue.
Libykos of Cirta gave it me of yore
When in the year of Daphne’s birth he bore
Coral, ivory, and copper to Hellenic strands
And took hence corn and wool to foreign lands.
HIPPIAS.
Serenely I shall sleep on this fair couch
For Daphne’s faith her plighted word may vouch.
HERMAS.
May the gods watch thee, and thy sleep adorn
With happy dreams from out the gate of horn.
[He leaves by an inner door.
SCENE VII.
HIPPIAS.
Stretched on the welcome couch with closed eyes
I feel the billows’ gentle fall and rise.
Still hear the thresh of oars against the gale
And the wind moaning in the bellying sail.
The gleaming sea, blue capes and skies of blue
And fabled monsters, dance before my view.
A goddess shape my swimming eyes see now,
She floats mid heavenly airs before the prow,
Sports with the dolphins, ambient as air,
Touches the silver sands, a blossom rare,
Flees like a sunbeam; and the colours fade;
For, by the will of Love, I love a maid.
Doth this old man speak sooth? And wherefore should
This Galilean god in adverse mood
Now, when at length the golden hours atone,
Dispute with me the bride so hardly won?
I wrong not this young god of recent fame,
I have not spurned his altar or his name,
Have not affronted his ascetic priests,
Nor wantonly surprised their midnight feasts,
Their mysteries amid the tombs begot.
He cannot hate me; for I know him not.
Yet Daphne, silent, weeps and languishes.
Unholy is the grief whose sombre stress
Bows the white neck of one of Venus’ doves.
But grief still more endears the friend one loves.
Perhaps the fault is mine her heart is sore;
Perhaps she fears I may return no more,
Forgetting that the virtuous gods assure
Safe conduct to the man whose heart is pure,
Who purified by every solemn rite
Hath made his vow and kept it in their sight.
To-morrow’s dawn will bring her love again
And her fair brow relax its anxious strain,
And her eyes smile. O Zeus, thy sacred day
Lighten the form I love with earliest ray!
Artemis, hear me, have me in thy hold!
And thou, O goddess fairest, crowned with gold —
[He sleeps.
SCENE VIII.
The dream OF HIPPIAS.
ARTEMIS and APHRODITE.
ARTEMIS.
Oh, never more the darkling hours
Under the shifting moonlight sweet
Shall see amid the hawthorn flowers
The shining of my silver feet.
APHRODITE.
The sea, less supple than my thighs.
Than mine eyes’ lucid depths less deep,
No more shall see my white shape rise
Bright upon memoried shores asleep.
ARTEMIS.
No more be mine the gift of grace,
Of strength, of beauty, as of old,
To youth the flower of the race,
Upright and chaste within the fold.
APHRODITE.
Lovers, all they who hailed me queen,
Now must they lose, nor re-acquire
The primal gift: the peace serene
In the inevitable desire.
ARTEMIS.
The maiden in the untrodden ways
A tender growth beneath God’s doom,
Shall learn, in innocent amaze,
That she came sullied from the womb.
APHRODITE.
Woman shall dread her beauty’s snare;
And find sweet love a bitter thing,
The sons of this new race, in fear,
Flee her, in deserts cowering.
ARTEMIS.
O youth whose dreaming head and chaste,
Is pure as flower
of the grass,
Come, that thy shining brows embraced,
Lighten the shades whereto we pass!
APHRODITE.
Oh, follow me — my gifts enjoyed
Have filled thy heart an hundredfold.
What dost thou here? the gods avoid
A world that weeps in languor cold.
ARTEMIS.
Oh, follow me to crystal skies
And live immortal there, as we!
Away! My chlamys, lover-wise,
Soft touches on thy yielding knee.
APHRODITE.
Let us away, lo! even now
My veil and girdle kiss thy side.
Eternal beauty shall endow
Thy purer essence sanctified.
[They kiss him, make sign that he shall follow them, and vanish in the air.
SCENE IX.
HIPPIAS asleep. DAPHNE.
DAPHNE (she comes from an inner door).
Since I at dawn, close-veiled, and habited,
Follow this aged man whose cross shall lead
My steps within the sacred shade, alone,
And Christ’s peace fall upon this heart of stone;
Since I must leave this world and, living, die,
Torn from its clasp, I yet would say good-bye.
When all yet lay beneath the spell of sleep,
I drew the wooden bolt, my chamber’s keep,
With trembling hand, ere yet the night was sped,
And, fearful, stole from out my maiden bed.
Now hail thee, earth! and heaven, and wood, and sky,
And thee, old house, dear home, in days gone by
Given to mirth and song, and joy benign.
O door, O lowly porch, where leaves entwine
Old Hermes watching, carved of lemon wood,
Favour this visit — not to be renewed.
Abode so filled with mirth my natal year,
And thou, the roof-tree’s stay, the column where
My father yearly marked my growth, and read
With joy the increase of my springing head!
White stones, on feast days fragrant, and in days
When I was small so close beneath my gaze,
Where my blue-armoured scarab, held in thrall
At a thread’s end, would climb along the wall,
Or where small pliant twigs I would engage,
And hold my brown cicala in a cage!
And thou, O watchful lamp, farewell for ay!
[She opens the outer door.
O you I loved, sleep on, sleep silently;
Dear hounds to whom I gave sweet cakes to eat,
Oh, bark not, springing up on hasty feet;
Shake not your collars, watch-dogs, nor resent
The footfall soft you know so innocent.
I wish to run afield, to hear again
The leafage sound above the fountain-rain.
Yes, for the night is kind to innocence,
Out by the road, now fragrant to the sense,
With floating hair brushing the myrtles low,
To the nymphs’ sacred fountain will I go,
To hear once more beside the waters cool
The slender reed-flutes, singing, pitiful.
I know a seat, a mound beneath the yews,
Whose turf mysterious night with love bedews...
Oh! I speak wildly! — nevermore for me
The fountain cool, the shade of friendly tree.
HIPPIAS (waking).
Artemis, and thee, O crownèd Queen, I hear,
But what this sad sweet voice all thrilled with fear,
Your singing softly echoed in a sigh?
I wake, and on the moonlit threshold nigh,
Vague and white-veiled, I see a shadow move,
I see — O night! I see the one I love!
No shade intangible, no spirit form,
’Tis she! Love’s very self, her presence warm!
[He rises and stretches forth his arms.
Daphne, O Daphne! Sweet hour come at last!
My Daphne, come, O friend, a friend thou hast!
The kindly gods rejoin our destinies.
I thirst and hunger for thy love-lit eyes.
Under the choired stars God guides thy feet!
Daphne, I bring thee joyful news and sweet.
Thy vigil and my labours are at end.
We shall be one, thy father is my friend.
But what is this? Dost thou not hear, nor see?
What fear can chill thee, hold thee thus from me?
Speak. Do not flee me; fear not, but rejoice;
I am thy Hippias; know’st thou not my voice?
DAPHNE (speaking to herself).
Angels! Oh, have me in your garments’ fold!
Wherefore this cruel trial, grief untold,
To show me him whose vision is forbid?
I would regain the darkness where I hid.
But how, despite him, reach my maiden room?
HIPPIAS.
Listen! O virgin, breathing sweet perfume!
I will speak softly, wait for thy replies,
Come to mine arms and speak, give me thine eyes!
DAPHNE.
O guest, respect my passage, leave me free!
HIPPIAS.
My face is browned with sunlight and the sea,
But friends long severed by an adverse star
May know each other still for that they are.
O trust thine eyes, the light of those twin stars
Bright as when early dawn the east unbars.
Dear child! Oh, trust what to thine ears is told,
Whereto I hang my vows as pendant gold.
Believe the spirit in thy gracious breast,
Whose grace divine thy fairest thoughts attest;
I am thy Hippias; I offer my embrace.
DAPHNE.
Stranger, withdraw; I do not know thy face.
HIPPIAS.
Why speak’st thou thus, O girl? Oh, can it be
Some god, in blinding cloud enwrapping thee,
Hath wished, in wrath, to bring bewilderment?
Certes, some god must blind thee, ill-content
From lack of wine and honey-cakes and meal,
Hermes, or she to whom the Cypriotes kneel,
Or the dark Hecate. Their power, allowed,
May strike with madness him whose heart is proud.
Yet time restores our reason to its seat.
Listen, and I will speak in words more meet.
DAPHNE.
I may not hear thee, stranger, let us part.
HIPPIAS.
Daughter of Hermas! Light is the maiden heart;
Woman has moods, it is a woman’s due.
My words shall breathe the sweetness of the rue.
I will recall our love to thee, and how
I first beheld thee; precious memory now! —
Beside the porch where golden sunflowers rise,
Needle in hand, with looks of sweet surprise.
Irresolute I stood. “Go, nurse,” thou saidst,
“And give the stranger welcome to our midst.”
Thy gentle words my inmost being thrilled,
I then knew love, O maid in beauty veiled!
But with my coming came the glowing swarm
Of playful loves to stir thy bosom warm.
Often a blush the lowered lids would own;
Often, O Daphne, the old bench of stone
Saw thine industrious hands forget the thread
At waning hours when all the west was red,
And the birds sought their nests under the beam.
For I, dear maid, would tell thee tales, their theme
My distant voyages, my dangers run,
Prodigies seen and men and cities known.
Then came desire and fret, and love’s pursuit,
Thy pledge more sweet than honey is, or fruit;
Thy father’s smile indulgent, thy lament,
When the hid naiad, the myrtles, and dark yew,
Heard thy sweet speech and took thy vows anew.
DAPHNE.
I may not. Peace!
HIPPIAS.
Why speak such words, my terror to increase?
Thy speech is touched with some inspired fear.
It holds thee cloaked. What mystery is here?
Reply, reply! Oh, tell me, what dread Fate,
What troubles dire thy heart so agitate?
Under the stars, before their Queen, the moon,
I pray and I beseech, O maid! This boon
With outstretched arms here at thy feet I sue,
Thou canst but grant the grace that is my due.
None but the wicked, in their madness set,
Reject the hand which supplicates its debt.
Let me embrace thy feet, thy hands, thy hair,
Tell me: thy wish is mine, thy joy I share.
DAPHNE.
Oh! Touch me not, or I shall be undone.
HIPPIAS.
No! The assent I hoped is not yet won.
DAPHNE.
Away! Oh, flee me!
HIPPIAS.
Take but my embrace.
DAPHNE.
Oh, woe is me! And woe to thee! Disgrace —
HIPPIAS.
Oh, say what bodes this cry instinct with dread?
How pale thy face, whose sorrow may be read;
Thy startled eyes are wide with terror fell.
Oh, hateful silence! Speak! Oh, tell me, tell
The Iolchian magic, and the deadly brew,
What charnel compost, draught of livid hue,
What spells have touched the flower of thy face
And left this deadly pallor in its place.
What drug has frozen thus thy flesh and blood,
Charmed thee and left but thy similitude?
DAPHNE.
Loose my hands.
HIPPIAS.
No. Thine ill is from above:
Earth doth not bruise the gentle flower of love.
Thee I adjure, O Daphne! In these arms
Reply: what jealous god would steal thy charms?
DAPHNE.
Enough. I love thee. Hence!
HIPPIAS.
I knew it so!
Necessity still leads, where’er we go.
Dost thou not feel her iron arm divine
Compel thine ardent breast to fall on mine?
DAPHNE.
I fail!
HIPPIAS.
Be docile, and submit to Fate,
Daphne, therein all beauty is innate.
Thy softness is thy beauty in love’s eyes.
Yield thee, O child, for Love demands the price.
DAPHNE.
Leave me.
HIPPIAS. —
I will not leave thee, but will rest
Till thy lips tell the trouble of thy breast.
DAPHNE.
Complete Works of Anatole France Page 404