Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series

by Robert Browning

  — Sweet! it grows wild in Lebanon. And I

  Alone do nothing for thee! ‘T is my office

  Just to announce what well thou know’st — but thus

  Thou bidst me. At this self-same moment tend

  The Prefect, Nuncio and the Admiral

  Hither by their three sea-paths: nor forget

  Who were the trusty watchers! — thou forget?

  Like me, who do forget that Anael bade . . .

  DJABAL [aside].

  Ay, Anael, Anael — is that said at last?

  Louder than all, that would be said, I knew!

  What does abjuring mean, confessing mean,

  To the people? Till that woman crossed my path,

  On went I, solely for my people’ s sake:

  I saw her, and I then first saw myself,

  And slackened pace: “if I should prove indeed

  Hakeem — with Anael by!”

  KHALIL [aside].

  Ah, he is rapt!

  Dare I at such a moment break on him

  Even to do my sister’s bidding? Yes:

  The eyes are Djabal’ s and not Hakeem’s yet,

  Though but till I have spoken this, perchance.

  DJABAL [aside].

  To yearn to tell her, and yet have no one

  Great heart’s word that will tell her! I could gasp

  Doubtless one such word out, and die.

  [Aloud.] You said

  That Anael . . .

  KHALIL.

  . . . Fain would see thee, speak with thee,

  Before thou change, discard this Djabal’ s shape

  She knows, for Hakeem’s shape she is to know.

  Something to say that will not from her mind!

  I know not what — ”Let him but come!” she said.

  DJABAL [half-apart].

  My nation — all my Druses — how fare they?

  Those I must save, and suffer thus to save,

  Hold they their posts? Wait they their Khalif too?

  KHALIL.

  All at the signal pant to flock around

  That banner of a brow!

  DJABAL [aside].

  And when they flock,

  Confess them this: and after, for reward,

  Be chased with howlings to her feet perchance!

  — Have the poor outraged Druses, deaf and blind,

  Precede me there, forestall my story there,

  Tell it in mocks and jeers!

  I lose myself.

  Who needs a Hakeem to direct him now?

  I need the veriest child why not this child?

  [Turning abruptly to KHALIL.

  You are a Druse too, Khalil; you were nourished

  Like Anael with our mysteries: if she

  Could vow, so nourished, to love only one

  Who should avenge the Druses, whence proceeds

  Your silence? Wherefore made you no essay,

  Who thus implicitly can execute

  My bidding? What have I done, you could not?

  Who, knowing more than Anael the prostration

  Of our once lofty tribe, the daily life

  Of this detested . . .

  Does he come, you say,

  This Prefect? All ‘s in readiness?

  KHALIL.

  The sword,

  The sacred robe, the Khalif’s mystic tiar,

  Laid up so long, are all disposed beside

  The Prefect’s chamber.

  DJABAL.

  — Why did you despair?

  KHALIL.

  I know our nation’s state? Too surely know,

  As thou who speak’st to prove me! Wrongs like ours

  Should wake revenge: but when I sought the wronged

  And spoke, — ”The Prefect stabbed your son — arise!

  Your daughter, while you starve, eats shameless bread

  In his pavilion — then arise!” — my speech

  Fell idly: ‘twas, “Be silent, or worse fare!

  Endure till time’s slow cycle prove complete!

  Who mayst thou be that takest on thee to thrust

  Into this peril — art thou Hakeem?” No!

  Only a mission like thy mission renders

  All these obedient at a breath, subdues

  Their private passions, brings their wills to one.

  DJABAL.

  You think so?

  KHALIL.

  Even now — when they have witnessed

  Thy miracles — had I not threatened all

  With Hakeem’s vengeance, they would mar the work,

  And couch ere this, each with his special prize,

  Safe in his dwelling, leaving our main hope

  To perish. No! When these have kissed thy feet

  At Lebanon, the past purged off, the present

  Clear, — for the future, even Hakeem’s mission

  May end, and I perchance, or any youth,

  Shall rule them thus renewed. — I tutor thee!

  DJABAL.

  And wisely. (He is Anael’s brother, pure

  As Anael’s self.) Go say, I come to her.

  Haste! I will follow you.

  [Khalil goes.

  Oh, not confess

  To these, the blinded multitude — confess,

  Before at least the fortune of my deed

  Half-authorize its means! Only to her

  Let me confess my fault, who in my path

  Curled up like incense from a Mage-king’s tomb

  When he would have the wayfarer descend

  Through the earth’s rift and bear hid treasure forth!

  How should child’s-carelessness prove manhood’s crime

  Till now that I, whose lone youth hurried past,

  Letting each joy ‘scape for the Druses’ sake,

  At length recover in one Druse all joy?

  Were her brow brighter, her eyes richer, still

  Would I confess. On the gulf’s verge I pause.

  How could I slay the Prefect, thus and thus?

  Anael, be mine to guard me, not destroy!

  [Goes.

  Enter ANAEL, and MAANI who is assisting to array her

  in the ancient dress of the Druses.

  ANAEL.

  Those saffron vestures of the tabret-girls!

  Comes Djabal, think you?

  MAANI.

  Doubtless Djabal comes.

  ANAEL.

  Dost thou snow-swathe thee kinglier, Lebanon,

  Than in my dreams? Nay, all the tresses off

  My forehead! Look I lovely so? He says

  That I am lovely.

  MAANI.

  Lovely: nay, that hangs

  Awry.

  ANAEL.

  You tell me how a khandjar hangs?

  The sharp side, thus, along the heart, see, marks

  The maiden of our class. Are you content

  For Djabal as for me?

  MAANI.

  Content, my child.

  ANAEL.

  Oh mother, tell me more of him! He comes

  Even now tell more, fill up my soul with him!

  MAANI.

  And did I not . . . yes, surely . . . tell you all?

  ANAEL.

  What will be changed in Djabal when the Change

  Arrives? Which feature? Not his eyes!

  MAANI.

  ’T is writ

  Our Hakeem’s eyes rolled fire and clove the dark

  Superbly.

  ANAEL.

  Not his eyes! His voice perhaps?

  Yet that ‘s no change; for a grave current lived

  — Grandly beneath the surface ever lived,

  That, scattering, broke as in live silver spray

  While . . . ah, the bliss . . . he would discourse to me

  In that enforced still fashion, word on word!

  ‘T is the old current which must swell thro’ that,

  For what least tone, Maani, could I lose?

  ‘T is surely not his voice will
change!

  — If Hakeem

  Only stood by! If Djabal, somehow, passed

  Out of the radiance as from out a robe;

  Possessed, but was not it!

  He lived with you?

  Well — and that morning Djabal saw me first

  And heard me vow never to wed but one

  Who saved my People on that day . . . proceed!

  MAANI.

  Once more, then: from the time of his return

  In secret, changed so since he left the Isle

  That I, who screened our Emir’s last of sons,

  This Djabal, from the Prefect’s massacre

  — Who bade him ne’er forget the child he was,

  — Who dreamed so long the youth he might become —

  I knew not in the man that child; the man

  Who spoke alone of hope to save our tribe,

  How he had gone from land to land to save

  Our tribe — allies were sure, nor foes to dread.

  And much he mused, days, nights, alone he mused:

  But never till that day when, pale and worn

  As by a persevering woe, he cried

  “Is there not one Druse left me?” — and I showed

  The way to Khalil’s and your hiding-place

  From the abhorred eye of the Prefect here,

  So that he saw you, heard you speak — till then,

  Never did he announce — (how the moon seemed

  To ope and shut, the while, above us both!)

  — His mission was the mission promised us;

  The cycle had revolved; all things renewing,

  He was lost Hakeem clothed in flesh to lead

  His children home anon, now veiled to work

  Great purposes: the Druses now would change!

  ANAEL.

  And they have changed! And obstacles did sink,

  And furtherances rose! And round his form

  Played fire, and music beat her angel wings!

  My people, let me more rejoice, oh more

  For you than for myself! Did I but watch

  Afar the pageant, feel our Khalif pass,

  One of the throng, how proud were I — tho’ ne’er

  Singled by Djabal’s glance! But to be chosen

  His own from all, the most his own of all,

  To be exalted with him, side by side,

  Lead the exulting Druses, meet . . . ah, how

  Worthily meet the maidens who await

  Ever beneath the cedars — how deserve

  This honor, in their eyes? So bright are they

  Who saffron-vested sound the tabret there,

  The girls who throng there in my dream! One hour

  And all is over: how shall I do aught

  That may deserve next hour’s exalting? — How? —

  [Suddenly to MAANI.

  Mother, I am not worthy him! I read it

  Still in his eyes! He stands as if to tell me

  I am not, yet forbears. Why else revert

  To one theme ever? — how mere human gifts

  Suffice him in myself — whose worship fades,

  Whose awe goes ever off at his approach,

  As now, who when he comes . . .

  [DJABAL enters.] Oh why is it

  I cannot kneel to you?

  DJABAL.

  Rather, ‘tis I

  Should kneel to you, my Anael!

  ANAEL.

  Even so!

  For never seem you — shall I speak the truth? —

  Never a God to me! ‘T is the Man’s hand,

  Eye, voice! Oh do you veil these to our people,

  Or but to me? To them, I think, to them!

  And brightness is their veil, shadow — my truth!

  You mean that I should never kneel to you

  — So, thus I kneel!

  DJABAL [preventing her].

  No — no!

  [Feeling the khandjar as be raises her.

  Ha, have you chosen . . .

  ANAEL.

  The khandjar with our ancient garb. But, Djabal,

  Change not, be not exalted yet! Give time

  That I may plan more, perfect more! My blood

  Beats, beats!

  [Aside] Oh must I then — since Loys leaves us

  Never to come again, renew in me

  These doubts so near effaced already — must

  I needs confess them now to Djabal? — own

  That when I saw that stranger, heard his voice,

  My faith fell, and the woful thought flashed first

  That each effect of Djabal’ s presence, taken

  For proof of more than human attributes

  In him, by me whose heart at his approach

  Beat fast, whose brain while he was by swam round,

  Whose soul at his departure died away,

  — That every such effect might have been wrought

  In other frames, tho’ not in mine, by Loys

  Or any merely mortal presence? Doubt

  Is fading fast; shall I reveal it now?

  How shall I meet the rapture presently,

  With doubt unexpiated, undisclosed?

  DJABAL [aside].

  Avow the truth? I cannot! In what words

  Avow that all she loved in me was false?

  — Which yet has served that flower-like love of hers

  To climb by, like the clinging gourd, and clasp

  With its divinest wealth of leaf and bloom.

  Could I take down the prop-work, in itself

  So vile, yet interlaced and overlaid

  With painted cups and fruitage — might these still

  Bask in the sun, unconscious their own strength

  Of matted stalk and tendril had replaced

  The old support thus silently withdrawn!

  But no; the beauteous fabric crushes too.

  ‘T is not for my sake but for Anael’s sake

  I leave her soul this Hakeem where it leans.

  Oh could I vanish from her, quit the Isle!

  And yet — a thought comes: here my work is done

  At every point; the Druses must return —

  Have convoy to their birth-place back, whoe’er

  The leader be, myself or any Druse —

  Venice is pledged to that: ‘t is for myself,

  For my own vengeance in the Prefect’s death,

  I stay now, not for them: to slay or spare

  The Prefect, whom imports it save myself?

  He cannot bar their passage from the Isle;

  What would his death be but my own reward?

  Then, mine I will forego. It is foregone!

  Let him escape with all my House’s blood!

  Ere he can reach land, Djabal disappears,

  And Hakeem, Anael loved, shall, fresh as first,

  Live in her memory, keeping her sublime

  Above the world. She cannot touch that world

  By ever knowing what I truly am,

  Since Loys, — of mankind the only one

  Able to link my present with my past,

  My life in Europe with my Island life,

  Thence, able to unmask me, — I’ve disposed

  Safely at last at Rhodes, and . . .

  Enter KHALIL.

  KHALIL.

  Loys greets thee!

  DJABAL.

  Loys? To drag me back? It cannot be!

  ANAEL [aside].

  Loys! Ah, doubt may not be stifled so!

  KHALIL.

  Can I have erred that thou so gazest? Yes,

  I told thee not in the glad press of tidings

  Of higher import, Loys is returned

  Before the Prefect, with, if possible,

  Twice the light-heartedness of old. As though

  On some inauguration he expects,

  To-day, the world’s fate hung!

  DJABAL.

  — And asks for me?

  KHALIL.

  Thou knowest all things
. Thee in chief he greets,

  But every Druse of us is to be happy

  At his arrival, he declares: were Loys

  Thou, Master, he could have no wider soul

  To take us in with. How I love that Loys!

  DJABAL [aside].

  Shame winds me with her tether round and round.

  ANAEL [aside].

  Loys? I take the trial! it is meet,

  The little I can do, be done; that faith,

  All I can offer, want no perfecting

  Which my own act may compass. Ay, this way

  All may go well, nor that ignoble doubt

  Be chased by other aid than mine. Advance

  Close to my fear, weigh Loys with my Lord,

  The mortal with the more than mortal gifts!

  DJABAL [aside].

  Before, there were so few deceived! and now

  There’s doubtless not one least Druse in the Isle

  But, having learned my superhuman claims,

  And calling me his Khalif-God, will clash

  The whole truth out from Loys at first word!

  While Loys, for his part, will hold me up,

  With a Frank’s unimaginable scorn

  Of such imposture, to my people’s eyes!

  Could I but keep him longer yet awhile

  From them, amuse him here until I plan

  How he and I at once may leave the Isle!

  Khalil I cannot part with from my side —

  My only help in this emergency:

  There’s Anael!

  ANAEL.

  Please you?

  DJABAL.

  Anael — none but she!

  [To ANAEL.] I pass some minutes in the chamber there,

  Ere I see Loys: you shall speak with him

  Until I join you. Khalil follows me.

  ANAEL [aside].

  As I divined: he bids me save myself,

  Offers me a probation — I accept.

  Let me see Loys!

  LOYS [without].

  Djabal!

  ANAEL [aside].

  ’T is his voice.

  The smooth Frank trifler with our people’s wrongs,

  The self-complacent boy-inquirer, loud

  On this and that inflicted tyranny,

  — Aught serving to parade an ignorance

  Of how wrong feels, inflicted! Let me close

  With what I viewed at distance: let myself

  Probe this delusion to the core!

  DJABAL.

  He comes.

  Khalil, along with me! while Anael waits

  Till 1 return once more — and but once more.

  Act III

  ANAEL and LOYS.

  ANAEL.

  Here leave me! Here I wait another. ‘T was

  For no mad protestation of a love

  Like this you say possesses you, I came.

  LOYS.

  Love? how protest a love I dare not feel?

  Mad words may doubtless have escaped me: you

  Are here — I only feel you here!

  ANAEL.

  No more!

  LOYS.

  But once again, whom could you love? I dare,