Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series

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Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series Page 273

by Robert Browning

This is the first time for long years I enter

  Thus [lifts the arras] without feeling just as if I lifted

  The lid up of my tomb.

  LOYS.

  They share his crime!

  God’s punishment will overtake you yet.

  PREFECT.

  Thank you it does not! Pardon this last flash:

  I bear a sober visage presently

  With the disinterested Nuncio here —

  His purchase-money safe at Murcia, too!

  Let me repeat — for the first time, no draught

  Coming as from a sepulchre salutes me.

  When we next meet, this folly may have passed,

  We’ll hope. Ha, ha! [Goes through the arras.

  LOYS.

  Assure me but . . . he’s gone!

  He could not lie. Then what have I escaped,

  I, who had so nigh given up happiness

  Forever, to be linked with him and them!

  Oh, opportunest of discoveries! I

  Their Knight? I utterly renounce them all!

  Hark! What, he meets by this the Nuncio? Yes,

  The same hyæna groan-like laughter! Quick —

  To Djabal! I am one of them at last,

  These simple-hearted Druses — Anael’s tribe!

  Djabal! She’s mine at last. Djabal, I say! [Goes.

  Act IV

  Enter DJABAL.

  DJABAL.

  Let me but slay the Prefect. The end now!

  To-morrow will be time enough to pry

  Into the means I took: suffice, they served,

  Ignoble as they were, to hurl revenge

  True to its object. [Seeing the robe, etc., disposed.

  Mine should never so

  Have hurried to accomplishment! Thee, Djabal,

  Far other mood befitted! Calm the Robe

  Should clothe this doom’s awarder!

  [Taking the robe.] Shall I dare

  Assume my nation’s Robe? I am at least

  A Druse again, chill Europe’s policy

  Drops from me: I dare take the Robe. Why not

  The Tiar? I rule the Druses, and what more

  Betokens it than rule? — yet — yet —

  [Lays down the tiar.

  [Footsteps in the alcove.] He comes!

  [Taking the sword.

  If the Sword serve, let the Tiar lie! So, feet

  Clogged with the blood of twenty years can fall

  Thus lightly! Round me, all ye ghosts! He’ll lift . . .

  Which arm to push the arras wide? — or both?

  Stab from the neck down to the heart — there stay!

  Near he comes — nearer — the next footstep! Now!

  [As be dashes aside the arras, ANAEL is discovered.

  Ha! Anael! Nay, my Anael, can it be?

  Heard you the trumpet? I must slay him here,

  And here you ruin all. Why speak you not?

  Anael, the Prefect comes! [ANAEL screams.

  So slow to feel

  ‘T is not a sight for you to look upon?

  A moment’s work — but such work! Till you go,

  I must be idle — idle, I risk all!

  [Pointing to her hair.]

  Those locks are well, and you are beauteous thus,

  But with the dagger ‘t is, I have to do!

  ANAEL.

  With mine!

  DJABAL.

  Blood — Anael?

  ANAEL.

  Djabal, ‘t is thy deed!

  It must be! I had hoped to claim it mine —

  Be worthy thee — but I must needs confess

  ‘T was not I, but thyself . . . not I have . . . Djabal!

  Speak to me!

  DJABAL.

  Oh, my punishment!

  ANAEL.

  Speak to me

  While I can speak! touch me, despite the blood!

  When the command passed from thy soul to mine,

  I went, fire leading me, muttering of thee,

  And the approaching exaltation, — ”make

  One sacrifice!” I said, — and he sat there,

  Bade me approach; and, as I did approach,

  Thy fire with music burst into my brain.

  ‘T was but a moment’s work, thou saidst — perchance

  It may have been so! Well, it is thy deed.

  DJABAL.

  It is my deed.

  ANAEL.

  His blood all this! — this! and . . .

  And more! Sustain me, Djabal! Wait not — now

  Let flash thy glory! Change thyself and me!

  It must be! Ere the Druses flock to us!

  At least confirm me! Djabal, blood gushed forth —

  He was our tyrant — but I looked he’d fall

  Prone as asleep — why else is death called sleep?

  Sleep? He bent o’er his breast! ‘T is sin, I know, —

  Punish me, Djabal, but wilt thou let him?

  Be it thou that punishest, not he — who creeps

  On his red breast — is here! ‘T is the small groan

  Of a child — no worse! Bestow the new life, then!

  Too swift it cannot be, too strange, surpassing!

  [Following him as be retreats.

  Now! Change us both! Change me and change thou!

  DJABAL [sinks on bis knees].

  Thus!

  Behold my change! You have done nobly. I! —

  ANAEL.

  Can Hakeem kneel?

  DJABAL.

  No Hakeem, and scarce Djabal!

  I have dealt falsely, and this woe is come.

  No — hear me ere scorn blast me! Once and ever,

  The deed is mine. Oh think upon the past!

  ANAEL [to herself].

  Did I strike once, or twice, or many times?

  DJABAL.

  I came to lead my tribe where, bathed in glooms,

  Doth Bahumid the Renovator sleep:

  Anael, I saw my tribe: I said, “Without

  A miracle this cannot be” — I said

  “Be there a miracle!” — for I saw you.

  ANAEL.

  His head lies south the portal.

  DJABAL.

  — Weighed with this

  The general good, how could I choose my own?

  What matter was my purity of soul?

  Little by little I engaged myself —

  Heaven would accept me for its instrument,

  I hoped: I said Heaven had accepted me.

  ANAEL.

  Is it this blood breeds dreams in me? Who said

  You were not Hakeem? And your miracles

  The fire that plays innocuous round your form?

  [Again changing her whole manner.

  Ah, thou wouldst try me thou art Hakeem still!

  DJABAL.

  Woe — woe! As if the Druses of the Mount

  (Scarce Arabs, even there, but here, in the Isle,

  Beneath their former selves) should comprehend

  The subtle lore of Europe! A few secrets

  That would not easily affect the meanest

  Of the crowd there, could wholly subjugate

  The best of our poor tribe. Again that eye?

  ANAEL [after a pause springs to his neck].

  Djabal, in this there can be no deceit!

  Why, Djabal, were you human only, — think,

  Maani is but human, Khalil human,

  Loys is human even — did their words

  Haunt me, their looks pursue me? Shame on you

  So to have tried me! Rather, shame on me

  So to need trying! Could I, with the Prefect

  And the blood, there — could I see only you?

  — Hang by your neck over this gulf of blood?

  Speak, I am saved! Speak, Djabal! Am I saved?

  [As DJABAL slowly unclasps her arms, and puts her silently from him.

  Hakeem would save me. Thou art Djabal. Crouch!

  Bow to the dust, thou basest of our k
ind!

  The pile of thee, I reared up to the cloud —

  Full, midway, of our fathers’ trophied tombs,

  Based on the living rock, devoured not by

  The unstable desert’s jaws of sand, — falls prone.

  Fire, music, quenched: and now thou liest there

  A ruin, obscene creatures will moan through.

  — Let us come, Djabal!

  DJABAL.

  Whither come?

  ANAEL.

  At once —

  Lest so it grow intolerable. Come!

  Will I not share it with thee? Best at once!

  So, feel less pain! Let them deride, — thy tribe

  Now trusting in thee, — Loys shall deride!

  Come to them, hand in hand, with me!

  DJABAL.

  Where come?

  ANAEL.

  Where? — to the Druses thou hast wronged! Confess,

  Now that the end is gained — (I love thee now — )

  That thou hast so deceived them — (perchance love thee

  Better than ever.) Come, receive their doom

  Of infamy! O, best of all I love thee!

  Shame with the man, no triumph with the God,

  Be mine! Come!

  DJABAL.

  Never! More shame yet? and why?

  Why? You have called this deed mine — it is mine!

  And with it I accept its circumstance.

  How can I longer strive with fate? The past

  Is past: my false life shall henceforth show true.

  Hear me! The argosies touch land by this;

  They bear us to fresh scenes and happier skies.

  What if we reign together? — if we keep

  Our secret for the Druses’ good? — by means

  Of even their superstition, plant in them

  New life? I learn from Europe: all who seek

  Man’s good must awe man, by such means as these.

  We two will be divine to them — we are!

  All great works in this world spring from the ruins

  Of greater projects — ever, on our earth,

  Babels men block out, Babylons they build.

  I wrest the weapon from your hand! I claim

  The deed! Retire! You have my ring — you bar

  All access to the Nuncio till the forces

  From Venice land.

  ANAEL.

  Thou wilt feign Hakeem then?

  DJABAL [putting the Tiara of Hakeem on bis head] .

  And from this moment that I dare ope wide

  Eyes that till now refused to see, begins

  My true dominion: for I know myself,

  And what am I to personate. No word?

  [Anael goes.

  ‘T is come on me at last! His blood on her — —

  What memories will follow that! Her eye,

  Her fierce distorted lip and ploughed black brow!

  Ah, fool! Has Europe then so poorly tamed

  The Syrian blood from out thee? Thou, presume

  To work in this foul earth by means not foul?

  Scheme, as for heaven, — but, on the earth, be glad

  If a least ray like heaven’s be left thee!

  Thus

  I shall be calm — in readiness — no way

  Surprised. [A noise without.]

  This should be Khalil and my Druses.

  Venice is come then! Thus I grasp thee, sword!

  Druses, ‘t is Hakeem saves you! In! Behold

  Your Prefect!

  Enter LOYS. DJABAL hides the khandjar in his robe.

  LOYS.

  Oh, well found, Djabal! but no time for words.

  You know who waits there? [Pointing to the alcove.

  Well! — and that ‘tis there

  He meets the Nuncio? Well? Now, a surprise —

  He there —

  DJABAL.

  I know —

  LOYS.

  — — is now no mortal’s lord,

  Is absolutely powerless — call him, dead —

  He is no longer Prefect — you are Prefect!

  Oh, shrink not! I do nothing in the dark,

  Nothing unworthy Breton blood, believe!

  I understood at once your urgency

  That I should leave this isle for Rhodes; I felt

  What you were loth to speak — your need of help.

  I have fulfilled the task that earnestness

  Imposed on me: have, face to face, confronted

  The Prefect in full Chapter, charged on him

  The enormities of his long rule; he stood

  Mute, offered no defence, no crime denied.

  On which, I spoke of you, and of your tribe,

  Your faith so like our own, and all you urged

  Of old to me: I spoke, too, of your goodness,

  Your patience — brief, I hold henceforth the Isle

  In charge, am nominally lord, but you,

  You are associated in my rule —

  Are the true Prefect! Ay, such faith had they

  In my assurance of your loyalty

  (For who insults an imbecile old man?)

  That we assume the Prefecture this hour.

  You gaze at me? Hear greater wonders yet —

  I cast down all the fabric I have built.

  These Knights, I was prepared to worship . . . but

  Of that another time; what’s now to say,

  Is — I shall never be a Knight! Oh, Djabal,

  Here first I throw all prejudice aside,

  And call you brother! I am Druse like you:

  My wealth, my friends, my power, are wholly yours,

  Your people’s, which is now my people: for

  There is a maiden of your tribe, I love —

  She loves me — Khalil’s sister — —

  DJABAL.

  Anael?

  LOYS.

  Start you?

  Seems what I say, unknightly? Thus it chanced:

  When first I came, a novice, to the isle . . .

  Enter one of the NUNCIO’S Guards from the alcove.

  GUARD.

  Oh horrible! Sir Loys! Here is Loys!

  And here — [Others enter from the alcove.

  [Pointing to DJABAL.] Secure him, bind him — this is he!

  [They surround DJABAL.

  LOYS.

  Madmen — what is ‘t you do? Stand from my friend,

  And tell me!

  GUARD.

  Thou canst have no part in this —

  Surely no part! But slay him not! The Nuncio

  Commanded, slay him not!

  LOYS.

  Speak, or . . .

  GUARD.

  The Prefect

  Lies murdered there by him thou dost embrace.

  LOYS.

  By Djabal? Miserable fools! How Djabal?

  [A Guard lifts DJABAL’S robe; DJABAL flings down the khandjar.

  LOYS [after a pause].

  Thou hast received some insult worse than all,

  Some outrage not to be endured —

  [To the Guards.] Stand back!

  He is my friend — more than my friend. Thou hast

  Slain him upon that provocation.

  GUARD.

  No!

  No provocation! ‘T is a long devised

  Conspiracy: the whole tribe is involved.

  He is their Khalif — ’t is on that pretence —

  Their mighty Khalif who died long ago,

  And now comes back to life and light again!

  All is just now revealed, I know not how,

  By one of his confederates — who, struck

  With horror at this murder, first apprised

  The Nuncio. As ‘t was said, we find this Djabal

  Here where we take him.

  DJABAL [aside].

  Who broke faith with me?

  LOYS [to DJABAL].

  Hear’st thou? Speak! Till thou speak, I keep off these,

  Or die with
thee. Deny this story! Thou

  A Khalif, an impostor? Thou, my friend,

  Whose tale was of an inoffensive tribe,

  With . . . but thou know’st — on that tale’s truth I pledged

  My faith before the Chapter: what art thou?

  DJABAL.

  Loys, I am as thou hast heard. All ‘s true.

  No more concealment! As these tell thee, all

  Was long since planned. Our Druses are enough

  To crush this handful: the Venetians land

  Even now in our behalf. Loys, we part.

  Thou, serving much, wouldstfain have served me more;

  It might not be. I thank thee. As thou hearest,

  We are a separated tribe: farewell!

  LOYS.

  Oh where will truth be found now? Canst thou so

  Belie the Druses? Do they share thy crime?

  Those thou professest of our Breton stock,

  Are partners with thee? Why, I saw but now

  Khalil, my friend: he spoke with me — no word

  Of this! and Anael — whom I love, and who

  Loves me — she spoke no word of this.

  DJABAL.

  Poor boy!

  Anael, who loves thee? Khalil, fast thy friend?

  We, offsets from a wandering Count of Dreux?

  No: older than the oldest, princelier

  Than Europe’s princeliest race, our tribe: enough

  For thine, that on our simple faith we found

  A monarchy to shame your monarchies

  At their own trick and secret of success.

  The child of this our tribe shall laugh upon

  The palace-step of him whose life ere night

  Is forfeit, as that child shall know, and yet

  Shall laugh there! What, we Druses wait forsooth

  The kind interposition of a boy

  — Can only save ourselves if thou concede:

  — Khalil admire thee? He is my right-hand,

  My delegate! — Anael accept thy love?

  She is my bride!

  LOYS.

  Thy bride? She one of them? 249

  DJABAL.

  My bride!

  LOYS.

  And she retains her glorious eyes!

  She, with those eyes, has shared this miscreant’s guilt!

  Ah — who but she directed me to find

  Djabal within the Prefect’s chamber? Khalil

  Bade me seek Djabal there, too. All is truth.

  What spoke the Prefect worse of them than this?

  Did the Church ill to institute long since

  Perpetual warfare with such serpentry?

  And I — have I desired to shift my part,

  Evade my share in her design? ‘Tis well.

  DJABAL.

  Loys, I wronged thee — but unwittingly:

  I never thought there was in thee a virtue

  That could attach itself to what thou deemest

  A race below thine own. I wronged thee, Loys,

  But that is over: all is over now,

  Save the protection I ensure against

  My people’s anger. By their Khalif’s side,

 

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