Percy Bysshe Shelley
Page 116
SWINE:
Ugh! ugh! ugh!
SWELLFOOT:
What! ye who grub
With filthy snouts my red potatoes up
In Allan’s rushy bog? Who eat the oats 25
Up, from my cavalry in the Hebrides?
Who swill the hog-wash soup my cooks digest
From bones, and rags, and scraps of shoe-leather,
Which should be given to cleaner Pigs than you?
SWINE — SEMICHORUS 1:
The same, alas! the same; 30
Though only now the name
Of Pig remains to me.
SEMICHORUS 2:
If ‘twere your kingly will
Us wretched Swine to kill,
What should we yield to thee? 35
SWELLFOOT:
Why, skin and bones, and some few hairs for mortar.
CHORUS OF SWINE:
I have heard your Laureate sing,
That pity was a royal thing;
Under your mighty ancestors, we Pigs
Were bless’d as nightingales on myrtle sprigs, 40
Or grasshoppers that live on noonday dew,
And sung, old annals tell, as sweetly too;
But now our sties are fallen in, we catch
The murrain and the mange, the scab and itch;
Sometimes your royal dogs tear down our thatch, 45
And then we seek the shelter of a ditch;
Hog-wash or grains, or ruta-baga, none
Has yet been ours since your reign begun.
FIRST SOW:
My Pigs, ‘tis in vain to tug.
SECOND SOW:
I could almost eat my litter. 50
FIRST PIG:
I suck, but no milk will come from the dug.
SECOND PIG:
Our skin and our bones would be bitter.
THE BOARS:
We fight for this rag of greasy rug,
Though a trough of wash would be fitter.
SEMICHORUS:
Happier Swine were they than we, 55
Drowned in the Gadarean sea —
I wish that pity would drive out the devils,
Which in your royal bosom hold their revels,
And sink us in the waves of thy compassion!
Alas! the Pigs are an unhappy nation! 60
Now if your Majesty would have our bristles
To bind your mortar with, or fill our colons
With rich blood, or make brawn out of our gristles,
In policy — ask else your royal Solons —
You ought to give us hog-wash and clean straw, 65
And sties well thatched; besides it is the law!
SWELLFOOT:
This is sedition, and rank blasphemy!
Ho! there, my guards!
[ENTER A GUARD.]
GUARD:
Your sacred Majesty.
SWELLFOOT:
Call in the Jews, Solomon the court porkman,
Moses the sow-gelder, and Zephaniah 70
The hog-butcher.
GUARD:
They are in waiting, Sire.
[ENTER SOLOMON, MOSES, AND ZEPHANIAH.]
SWELLFOOT:
Out with your knife, old Moses, and spay those Sows
[THE PIGS RUN ABOUT IN CONSTERNATION.]
That load the earth with Pigs; cut close and deep.
Moral restraint I see has no effect,
Nor prostitution, nor our own example, 75
Starvation, typhus-fever, war, nor prison —
This was the art which the arch-priest of Famine
Hinted at in his charge to the Theban clergy —
Cut close and deep, good Moses.
MOSES:
Let your Majesty
Keep the Boars quiet, else —
SWELLFOOT:
Zephaniah, cut 80
That fat Hog’s throat, the brute seems overfed;
Seditious hunks! to whine for want of grains.
ZEPHANIAH:
Your sacred Majesty, he has the dropsy; —
We shall find pints of hydatids in ‘s liver,
He has not half an inch of wholesome fat 85
Upon his carious ribs —
SWELLFOOT:
‘Tis all the same,
He’ll serve instead of riot money, when
Our murmuring troops bivouac in Thebes’ streets
And January winds, after a day
Of butchering, will make them relish carrion. 90
Now, Solomon, I’ll sell you in a lump
The whole kit of them.
SOLOMON:
Why, your Majesty,
I could not give —
SWELLFOOT:
Kill them out of the way,
That shall be price enough, and let me hear
Their everlasting grunts and whines no more! 95
[EXEUNT, DRIVING IN THE SWINE. ENTER MAMM0N, THE ARCH-PRIEST, AND PURGANAX, CHIEF OF THE COUNCIL OF WIZARDS.]
PURGANAX:
The future looks as black as death, a cloud,
Dark as the frown of Hell, hangs over it —
The troops grow mutinous — the revenue fails —
There’s something rotten in us — for the level 100
Of the State slopes, its very bases topple,
The boldest turn their backs upon themselves!
MAMMON:
Why what’s the matter, my dear fellow, now?
Do the troops mutiny? — decimate some regiments;
Does money fail? — come to my mint — coin paper,
Till gold be at a discount, and ashamed 105
To show his bilious face, go purge himself,
In emulation of her vestal whiteness.
PURGANAX:
Oh, would that this were all! The oracle!!
MAMMON:
Why it was I who spoke that oracle,
And whether I was dead drunk or inspired, 110
I cannot well remember; nor, in truth,
The oracle itself!
PURGANAX:
The words went thus: —
‘Boeotia, choose reform or civil war!
When through the streets, instead of hare with dogs,
A Consort Queen shall hunt a King with Hogs, 115
Riding on the Ionian Minotaur.’
MAMMON:
Now if the oracle had ne’er foretold
This sad alternative, it must arrive,
Or not, and so it must now that it has;
And whether I was urged by grace divine 120
Or Lesbian liquor to declare these words,
Which must, as all words must, he false or true,
It matters not: for the same Power made all,
Oracle, wine, and me and you — or none —
‘Tis the same thing. If you knew as much 125
Of oracles as I do —
PURGANAX:
You arch-priests
Believe in nothing; if you were to dream
Of a particular number in the Lottery,
You would not buy the ticket?
MAMMON:
Yet our tickets
Are seldom blanks. But what steps have you taken? 130
For prophecies, when once they get abroad,
Like liars who tell the truth to serve their ends,
Or hypocrites who, from assuming virtue,
Do the same actions that the virtuous do,
Contrive their own fulfilment. This Iona — 135
Well — you know what the chaste Pasiphae did,
Wife to that most religious King of Crete,
And still how popular the tale is here;
And these dull Swine of Thebes boast their descent
From the free Minotaur. You know they still 140
Call themselves Bulls, though thus degenerate,
And everything relating to a Bull
Is popular and respectable in Thebes.
Their arms are seven Bulls in a field gules;
They think
their strength consists in eating beef, — 145
Now there were danger in the precedent
If Queen Iona —
114 the edition 1820; thy cj. Forman;
cf. Motto below Title, and II. i, 153-6. ticket? edition 1820;
ticket! edition 1839.
135 their own Mrs. Shelley, later editions;
their editions 1820 and 1839.
PURGANAX:
I have taken good care
That shall not be. I struck the crust o’ the earth
With this enchanted rod, and Hell lay bare!
And from a cavern full of ugly shapes 150
I chose a LEECH, a GADFLY, and a RAT.
The Gadfly was the same which Juno sent
To agitate Io, and which Ezekiel mentions
That the Lord whistled for out of the mountains
Of utmost Aethiopia, to torment 155
Mesopotamian Babylon. The beast
Has a loud trumpet like the scarabee,
His crooked tail is barbed with many stings,
Each able to make a thousand wounds, and each
Immedicable; from his convex eyes 160
He sees fair things in many hideous shapes,
And trumpets all his falsehood to the world.
Like other beetles he is fed on dung —
He has eleven feet with which he crawls,
Trailing a blistering slime, and this foul beast 165
Has tracked Iona from the Theban limits,
From isle to isle, from city unto city,
Urging her flight from the far Chersonese
To fabulous Solyma, and the Aetnean Isle,
Ortygia, Melite, and Calypso’s Rock, 170
And the swart tribes of Garamant and Fez,
Aeolia and Elysium, and thy shores,
Parthenope, which now, alas! are free!
And through the fortunate Saturnian land,
Into the darkness of the West.
MAMMON:
But if 175
This Gadfly should drive Iona hither?
PURGANAX:
Gods! what an IF! but there is my gray RAT:
So thin with want, he can crawl in and out
Of any narrow chink and filthy hole,
And he shall creep into her dressing-room, 180
And —
MAMMON:
My dear friend, where are your wits? as if
She does not always toast a piece of cheese
And bait the trap? and rats, when lean enough
To crawl through SUCH chinks —
PURGANAX:
But my LEECH — a leech
Fit to suck blood, with lubricous round rings, 185
Capaciously expatiative, which make
His little body like a red balloon,
As full of blood as that of hydrogen,
Sucked from men’s hearts; insatiably he sucks
And clings and pulls — a horse-leech, whose deep maw 190
The plethoric King Swellfoot could not fill,
And who, till full, will cling for ever.
MAMMON:
This
For Queen Jona would suffice, and less;
But ‘tis the Swinish multitude I fear,
And in that fear I have —
PURGANAX:
Done what?
MAMMON:
Disinherited 195
My eldest son Chrysaor, because he
Attended public meetings, and would always
Stand prating there of commerce, public faith,
Economy, and unadulterate coin,
And other topics, ultra-radical; 200
And have entailed my estate, called the Fool’s Paradise,
And funds in fairy-money, bonds, and bills,
Upon my accomplished daughter Banknotina,
And married her to the gallows.
PURGANAX:
A good match!
MAMMON:
A high connexion, Purganax. The bridegroom 205
Is of a very ancient family,
Of Hounslow Heath, Tyburn, and the New Drop,
And has great influence in both Houses; — oh!
He makes the fondest husband; nay, TOO fond, —
New-married people should not kiss in public; 210
But the poor souls love one another so!
And then my little grandchildren, the gibbets,
Promising children as you ever saw, —
The young playing at hanging, the elder learning
How to hold radicals. They are well taught too, 215
For every gibbet says its catechism
And reads a select chapter in the Bible
Before it goes to play.
[A MOST TREMENDOUS HUMMING IS HEARD.]
PURGANAX:
Ha! what do I hear?
[ENTER THE GADFLY.]
MAMMON:
Your Gadfly, as it seems, is tired of gadding.
GADFLY:
Hum! hum! hum! 220
From the lakes of the Alps, and the cold gray scalps
Of the mountains, I come!
Hum! hum! hum!
From Morocco and Fez, and the high palaces
Of golden Byzantium; 225
From the temples divine of old Palestine,
From Athens and Rome,
With a ha! and a hum!
I come! I come!
All inn-doors and windows 230
Were open to me:
I saw all that sin does,
Which lamps hardly see
That burn in the night by the curtained bed, —
The impudent lamps! for they blushed not red, 235
Dinging and singing,
From slumber I rung her,
Loud as the clank of an ironmonger;
Hum! hum! hum!
Far, far, far! 240
With the trump of my lips, and the sting at my hips,
I drove her — afar!
Far, far, far!
From city to city, abandoned of pity,
A ship without needle or star; — 245
Homeless she passed, like a cloud on the blast,
Seeking peace, finding war; —
She is here in her car,
From afar, and afar; —
Hum! hum! 250
I have stung her and wrung her,
The venom is working; —
And if you had hung her
With canting and quirking,
She could not be deader than she will be soon; — 255
I have driven her close to you, under the moon,
Night and day, hum! hum! ha!
I have hummed her and drummed her
From place to place, till at last I have dumbed her,
Hum! hum! hum! 260
[ENTER THE LEECH AND THE RAT.]
LEECH:
I will suck
Blood or muck!
The disease of the state is a plethory,
Who so fit to reduce it as I?
RAT:
I’ll slily seize and 265
Let blood from her weasand, —
Creeping through crevice, and chink, and cranny,
With my snaky tail, and my sides so scranny.
PURGANAX:
Aroint ye! thou unprofitable worm!
[TO THE LEECH.]
And thou, dull beetle, get thee back to hell! 270
[TO THE GADFLY.]
To sting the ghosts of Babylonian kings,
And the ox-headed Io —
SWINE (WITHIN):
Ugh, ugh, ugh!
Hail! Iona the divine,
We will be no longer Swine,
But Bulls with horns and dewlaps.
RAT:
For, 275
You know, my lord, the Minotaur —
PURGANAX (FIERCELY):
Be silent! get to hell! or I will call
The cat out of the kitchen. Well, Lord Mammon,
This is a pretty business.
[EXIT THE R
AT.]
MAMMON:
I will go
And spell some scheme to make it ugly then. — 280
[EXIT.]
[ENTER SWELLFOOT.]
SWELLFOOT:
She is returned! Taurina is in Thebes,
When Swellfoot wishes that she were in hell!
Oh, Hymen, clothed in yellow jealousy,
And waving o’er the couch of wedded kings
The torch of Discord with its fiery hair; 285
This is thy work, thou patron saint of queens!
Swellfoot is wived! though parted by the sea,
The very name of wife had conjugal rights;
Her cursed image ate, drank, slept with me,
And in the arms of Adiposa oft 290
Her memory has received a husband’s —
[A LOUD TUMULT, AND CRIES OF ‘IONA FOR EVER — NO SWELLFOOT!’]
Hark!
How the Swine cry Iona Taurina;
I suffer the real presence; Purganax,
Off with her head!
PURGANAX:
But I must first impanel
A jury of the Pigs.
SWELLFOOT:
Pack them then. 295
PURGANAX:
Or fattening some few in two separate sties.
And giving them clean straw, tying some bits
Of ribbon round their legs — giving their Sows
Some tawdry lace, and bits of lustre glass,
And their young Boars white and red rags, and tails 300
Of cows, and jay feathers, and sticking cauliflowers
Between the ears of the old ones; and when
They are persuaded, that by the inherent virtue
Of these things, they are all imperial Pigs,
Good Lord! they’d rip each other’s bellies up, 305
Not to say, help us in destroying her.
SWELLFOOT:
This plan might be tried too; — where’s General Laoctonos?
[ENTER LAOCTONOS AND DAKRY.]
It is my royal pleasure
That you, Lord General, bring the head and body,
If separate it would please me better, hither 310
Of Queen Iona.
LAOCTONOS:
That pleasure I well knew,
And made a charge with those battalions bold,
Called, from their dress and grin, the royal apes,
Upon the Swine, who in a hollow square
Enclosed her, and received the first attack 315
Like so many rhinoceroses, and then
Retreating in good order, with bare tusks
And wrinkled snouts presented to the foe,
Bore her in triumph to the public sty.
What is still worse, some Sows upon the ground 320
Have given the ape-guards apples, nuts, and gin,
And they all whisk their tails aloft, and cry,
‘Long live Iona! down with Swellfoot!’
PURGANAX:
Hark!
THE SWINE (WITHOUT):
Long live Iona! down with Swellfoot!
DAKRY:
I
Went to the garret of the swineherd’s tower, 325
Which overlooks the sty, and made a long