Complete Works of Anatole France
Page 406
Woo thee with flowers, tearful — in thine arms!
NURSE.
Daphne, what saith this toothless wife to thee?
Most harmful to the young such hags may be.
DAPHNE.
Open the door, my nurse — how slow thy hands!
Haste with the light, the lamp expectant stands.
Be silent and obey.
NURSE.
It is not right
Nor nice, my child, to enter tombs at night.
His counsel just, the slave is rightly bold.
DAPHNE.
Set down the viands and the cups of gold
Upon our altar where of yore we made
Libation to the gods when passed a shade.
NURSE.
Childlike I act although I am a crone.
DAPHNE.
The bread and salt— ’tis well. Leave me. Alone,
With mine own hands I mix the wine I need.
NURSE.
It is my duty, Daphne, and I heed,
But leave these tombs where the dogs howl and roam,
Seek the warm shelter of thy couch and home.
SCENE V.
DAPHNE.
No, neither god nor friend shall be betrayed
By me, weak as I am, and sore afraid.
Even now I seemed to see, amid the gloom
In the dark dovecote, float on dusky plume
The shades of those who loved and went their ways
Under a happy sky in happier days.
They lived their lives, their ashes are at peace.
The terrors of this vigil now increase!
The air is thick with shades, their pressure nigh.
Oh, give me life, and breath, and sight of sky!
Vain wish! The time is now at hand — and he.
I must prepare the cup for him — and me.
I from this vase will drink where, graven, show
A virgin sleeping and winged babes who go
And come lightly o’erhead, and fly in aery troop.
[She opens the witch’s phial,
I pour what I must pour into this cup.
SCENE VI.
HIPPIAS (on the road).
Hail, all ye stars! In the dead tree’s dark cleft
The hoarse crow spoke from the ill-omened left.
Just gods, avert this presage of ill-fate.
Shadowed by pines I see the dead men’s gate.
DAPHNE (without seeing hint).
Dear Hippias! the midnight skies are dark.
The time is precious, but thou dost not mark,
Thou lingerest yet. Oh, come, I am prepared;
For thee my breast breathes perfume.
HIPPIAS (at the gate of the tomb).
Most endeared,
My Daphne, O my fate, Daphne my sweet,
Fugitive saint on fair and furtive feet!
The gods yet load with years the aged nurse
Who brought thy message to the flower-set source.
Thou art no child whom childish things control,
Thy heart courageous clothes a faithful soul.
Follow me, Daphne; rest thee, and confide:
I will be thine, thy refuge and thy pride.
DAPHNE.
Come, let us sit upon this marble seat.
Whatever chance the future may secrete,
Friend (for we know not what our fate may give),
We will no more be parted while I live.
In human lives bright hope may briefly shine.
Oh, lean thy shoulder, take my hands in thine!
One roof, one bed shall give us ample room,
My soul from out my lips thou shalt resume,
Shalt close mine eyes, receive my latest breath!
HIPPIAS.
Daphne, the gods conceal the hour of death.
Think of the present, gird thee, nor delay.
Hasten, they seek thee, they are near... away.
SCENE VII.
DAPHNE, HIPPIAS, in the tomb. THEOGNIS and the Chorus of the Faithful repassing on the road.
Chorus.
An age perverse has set them free,
We groaning, pray and wait.
Grant us to wear, who wait for Thee,
Thy purple robe of State.
THEOGNIS (to one of the deacons).
Lo, now, when sleep bows every head, there shines
Light from their tombs who toiled in the vines.
The anxious vigil of the ruddy spark
Betokens theft, or rape, or workings dark.
Go, Dionysos, with light step and view
What deed is doing ‘neath the pine and yew.
Go, for the guardian must supervise
Bad men whose crimes the dark hides from our eyes.
[He passes on. The deacon DIONYSOS steals to the vine-grower’s tomb, and sees, without being seen, HIPPIAS and DAPHNE. He runs to rejoin the bishop, who has gone his way with the choir. One still hears the Chorus of the Faithful.
CHORUS.
Grant, Lord, the glory we desire,
For which our life-blood flows,
To wear upon our white attire
The martyr’s blood-red rose.
DAPHNE.
It is a Christian chant, the song whose flood
Mounts towards the saints baptized in their own blood.
Whither, O martyrs, floats your bright array?
HIPPIAS.
My mantle cloaks thy tender breast — away!
DAPHNE.
Hippias, believe this shelter sure — nor fear.
I wish, as it beseems, to make thee cheer.
Wine will we drink where sleep the blessed dead.
Seat thee, my Hippias, the feast is spread.
We celebrate our spousals, friend, here are
The chalice and the thin-necked water-jar,
The cups, the perfumes, salt, and wreaths of green,
Lilies, and frail anemones between.
As it is fit, before this honoured dust,
We feast our marriage in this banquet just,
Pale violets and hyacinths soft-spread
A perfume on thy triply-banded head;
From odorous vase the scented contents shake,
Wreathe these fair flowers on thy brow and take
This cup where mix dark wine and water bright.
HIPPIAS.
In the lone tomb under the veil of night
With festal roses I adorn my head.
Daphne, I bow to all that thou hast said,
And my heart holds, with thine, that it is just
Piously to feast this union so august.
This wine to Hera, kind to wedded bliss,
This to thee, Cyprian, and to thee, Huntress, this,
And all you Loves who spread light wings at night,
Aid me to keep this spouse, fair-limbed and bright,
If ye would favour modesty and love.
DAPHNE.
I raise my cup in turn to Heaven above.
Thou, who, midst olives, from the cup didst shrink,
See me! I cannot, so my heart doth sink,
Alas! I cannot taste this bitter sup —
My lips dare not approach the golden cup.
HIPPIAS.
Drink, reach the cup that half thy draught be mine,
That I may taste thy sweet breath in the wine.
DAPHNE.
Hippias, I drink this wine — I must, I will.
See, in my hands I take this cup I fill.
HIPPIAS.
Drink to our union, friend.
DAPHNE.
O destiny!
’Tis done! I drain the bridal cup to thee.
Henceforth, O friend, its service be forgot.
’Tis consecrate to Him thou knowest not.
I am not woo’d in delicate repose
‘Mid sun and smiles and petals of the rose;
My love in nerves and blood and passion lost
Gives without
stint, with death in the accost.
Thy shining eyes now bathe me in delight,
Thy locks resplendent and thy temples bright.
Hippias, the soft down my eyes close seek
Lies like a mist of morning on thy cheek.
HIPPIAS.
About the flower of thy mouth I hear
Bees make sweet murmur, Daphne, to mine ear;
And sacred love fanning, with gentle gale,
Thy budding bosom flowers ‘neath its veil.
DAPHNE.
Hippias, thy stature and thy noble brow
Make live the dream of heroes long ago.
HIPPIAS.
Daphne, thy rounded arms, swift to enlace,
Bare themselves proudly from the robe’s embrace.
DAPHNE.
Hippias, what courage decks thy bosom warm!
HIPPIAS.
Daphne — of candid soul and goddess form!
DAPHNE.
I cling to thee!
HIPPIAS.
I hold thee to my heart!
DAPHNE.
Sweet!
HIPPIAS.
Flame of love!
DAPHNE.
I feel my life depart...
Oh, fold me close lest jealous Death divide
And unresisted snatch away thy bride.
Of nights old boatman Charon quits his bark
And rides the roads on a great courser dark.
When I shall wander where all bright things fade
Thy hands shall heap no offerings to my shade.
Where walk the Christian band their way is mine.
My spirit there may never welcome thine.
HIPPIAS.
Leave, then, this god who loveth not out feasts.
Love is the lord even of the savage beasts.
DAPHNE.
Christ Jesus will one day restore his own.
This is the doctrine to our sages known.
Thou, who art man, mayst ask and seek to know;
I, woman, must believe, and, silent, bow.
Christ, King of death — Blessed all names above!
This life is short, but infinite is love.
HIPPIAS.
O dear one, smile, nor speak these names of fear
To soil thy lips and shame thy sunny hair.
Tempt not thy fate thus, life is yet divine,
Love then, and live — the empty rest resign.
DAPHNE.
Live long, my Hippias, drink of the sun —
But dwell at times in memory, on the one
Who showed thee first — for love hath clearest eyes —
How fair is life beneath the clear blue skies.
O spouse of mine, treasure my solemn words!
When the dark couch where haunt the ill-omened birds
Receives — alas! this body once so dear,
When I am but a phantom thin and drear,
Cherish the memory of the Christian maid
Who once was fair, whose hand in thine was laid,
Who loved thee with no fickle heart nor light.
Sometimes, at home, one gives the fancies flight.
(Another, another, then, will fill the dearth,
And take thy dead love’s place beside the hearth!)
A little space thy laughing darling leave
For the green garden’s mossy seat, at eve,
And thou shalt see my shade above thee bow,
And feel, no kiss adulterous on thy brow,
But the wind’s breath bringing my soft caress.
Thus may the dead the living yet address.
Borne on the breeze, heard in the rustling leaf,
Always shall I return though thou be deaf.
HIPPIAS.
Virgin, the gift of words is on thy lips;
Inspired by the Muse thy soft speech slips
Between thy white teeth where the graces play.
But wherefore dwell on things unfit to say?
Why is the bridal robe with tear-drops pearled?
Youth, pleasure, and the brightly coloured world,
Love, all things, smile on us — and thou must weep!
Follow the light-foot hours so airy sweep!
Welcome our sacred joy in spirit light,
The world that gave thee birth, dear child, is bright!
Now thou art mine all things are sweet and dear,
Life will run gently for us, year by year,
Tasting each joy our destiny may bring,
Nor heeding future Fate’s dark offering.
DAPHNE.
How sweet to seek the spring at heat of day!
HIPPIAS.
Companion mine, we must pursue our way.
See, the stars slide from Heaven. Thy mantle gird,
Gain my sure bark, my sailors wait the word,
And ancient Glaucos on the oar-swept seas
Shall see thee fly before the morning breeze.
Come, for the night fades: hasten us, and flee.
[DAPHNE, pale, rises and totters.
Daphne, thy fair form droops across my knee.
Ye gods! What Lamia hath, with hands unseen,
Laid these pale violets on thy brow serene?
A scent of death exhales within this lair,
Let us go forth and breathe the soft pure air.
SCENE VIII.
DAPHNE, HIPPIAS, THEOGNIS, KALLISTA, HERMAS, and slaves bearing torches.
THEOGNIS (to HIPPIAS and DAPHNE, who issue from the tomb).
Stay, children, learn by whom you are addrest:
I, in Christ’s name, am shepherd of souls and priest
Of King Melchisedech’s eternal line.
Without concern or fear your hearts incline.
I come not, child, to consecrate, in sooth
Christ will forgo this flower of thy youth;
In a man’s hold it shall its scent emit,
God, who is pure, hath no more joy in it.
The power to bind and loose is in this hand.
Hear me, O daughter, and all men understand,
Thy mother’s vow I loose which else did bind,
Lawfully thou mayst unite thee with thy kind.
Since for the Mystic Spouse thou art unworth,
Fear not, but follow, then, this son of earth.
For our dear Master took his place and blest
Miraculous wine at Cana’s marriage-feast.
Thou, come of Gentiles, whom, the truth refused,
Falsehood makes wander like a man bemused,
Listen, that God may deign to bless thy bed:
Leave thine old ways, believe; the Apostle said,
“The man who weds shall sanctify his bride
And the New Church this sacrament provide.”
Ye would be wed? It may be done, and can.
Man, take this woman. Woman, take this man.
In name of the Eternal and the Son
And of the Paraclete, in glory one,
I join you. Be one flesh in this your life,
Follow him, woman; man, cherish this thy wife.
Render one day this child thou tak’st unspoiled
Back to her God, yet joyful and unsoiled.
Now ye are one exchange your rings in troth.
By laying on of hands I bless you both.
HIPPIAS.
O holy man! Some god must walk with thee!
Nay more, thou seem’st a God. O prodigy!
HERMAS.
Certes, ’twas time these children were made one.
What thou hast done, O priest, was wisely done.
The great ox will I slay, my stable’s pride,
And the red wine shall flow on every side.
All from the vines, all shepherds from the hill,
Shall throng your nuptials, children, in good will.
DAPHNE.
Prepare the feast, prepare the funeral feast.
God’s snare has shut, my breath has nearly ceased.
Cruel
, alas! The hand would liberate
To life and love now, when it is too late.
HIPPIAS.
Daphne, what evil threatens, yet untold?
I hold thy hand and yet thy hand is cold.
DAPHNE.
Farewell! For me the myrrh and winding-sheet.
Faithful to thee, O friend, could I yet cheat
God and my mother, and follow thee alone?
Think’st thou that love and life could all atone?
I came to thee because I might not live.
Hippias, my death is all I have to give.
Thou know’st the poison that the witches brew
From flowers Thessalian wet with midnight dew?
Its livid fumes I drained, my cup is dry.
Cold is my body, my arms droop — I die.
HIPPIAS.
Despair and woe! Flowers and coronals, fall!
DAPHNE.
What I have done is done, nor asks recall.
Know by my act how great the power of love.
Grave in your minds what I so sadly prove,
And tell my tale, that never child be sped
By mother’s hands to such dark bridal bed.
God knows I would have lived had He seen fit,
Earth smiled so bright. I would have joyed in it,
Known hearth and husband’s care, and, fond and proud,
Nourished a child, and heaven had seen no cloud.
Love breathing soft, life waking to its play...
Innocent dawn is come. Friends, it is day.
Bear me, oh, bear me to the rosy hills
Where o’er the tamarisk the fountain spills...
The night returns, night wraps me, darkness shed.
Dear husband, take me, bear me to the bed
Where I may rest me in my robe of grace.
Hippias, thy hand must cover up my face. Father, farewell.
Thou whom I loved live on!
HERMAS.
Dead, O my daughter! For ever is she gone!
Woman, thou hast slain her! Say, what barbarous God
Has foamed thy mouth, ridden thee thus roughshod;
Driven thee senseless, pitiless, to destroy
Thy daughter and myself and all our joy?
Cruel are men when the gods stir to wrath,
Widowed and childless I will flee this hearth.
Thy face accursed, my vine, my land that was!
Alas, my child, my flower! Alas, alas!
KALLISTA.
The mother’s heart is piercèd with a sword.
God, grant me light, if I mistook Thy word.
Punish me, Lord, if I have sinned. But no,
This that I did worked for Thy fame below,
Thy glory upon earth, the good of souls,
Thy love, whose flame my every act controls.
For a rich jewel I offer Thee each tear
I cry to Thee from out this sorrow drear