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THE ARGONAUTS
THE ARGONAUTS
BY
ALEISTER CROWLEY
SOCIETY FOR THE PROPAGATION OF RELIGIOUS TRUTH BOLESKINE, FOYERS, INVERNESS 1904
ARGONAUTAE
ACTUS PRIMUS
JASON
JASON.
Affectionately to the author of
‘ION’;
admiringly to
Dr. A. W. Verrall
and
the Rev. F. F. Kelly
on
the
occasion
of
my voyage of 1904
ARGONAUTAE.
ACTUS PRIMUS.
Pelias. Jason. Semi-chorus of Iochian Men. Semi-chorus of Iolchian Women.
Scene: The Throne-chamber of King Pelias.
semi-chorus of men. The prophecies are spoken in vain, The auguries vainly cast, Since twenty years of joyous reign In peace are overpast; And those who cursed our King’s desires Are branded in the brow for liars.
semi-chorus of women. We heard the aged prophet speak The doom of woe and fear. We wait with blanched and icy cheek The one-and-twentieth year: For Justice lies, as seeds lie, dead, But lifts at last a Gorgon head!
men. What fear can reach our Thessaly? What war disturb our peace? Long stablished is young amity Maid-blushing over Greece: And fair Iolchus stands sublime, A monument to lesson time.
women. But if such fear were come indeed, Who reads the riddle dread Spoken in frenzy by the seer Against the royal head? We know the Rhyme’s involving spell— Its purport is Impenetrable.
men. We heard his foolish maundering: But, bred in wiser ways, We have forgotten: do ye sing The rune of ancient days! To-day his curse cacophonous Shall earn at least a laugh from us!
women. “O!” when the arméd hand is nigh, Iolchus shall not see Peace shining from Athena’s sky Until the Fleece be free; Until the God of War shall scorn The sting, and trust him to the horn.
“Until the Sun of Spring forsake His eastern home, and rise Within our temple-walls and make One glory of the skies— Until the King shall die and live, Athena never shall forgive.”
men. Surely, O friends, at last ‘tis clear The man was mad indeed! Such nonsense we did never hear As this prophetic screed! More, as ‘tis never like this land Should ever see an arméd hand.
jason. Where is the son of Tyro and Poseidon?
men. Iolchus’ King has here a dwelling-place.
women. See you the sword shake—and the iron hand Not shaking? The man’s mood is full of wrath.
men. Peace, foolish! Were it so, we would not see.
women. Ay me! this stranger seems most ominous.
jason. Where is the son of Tyro and Poseidon?
men. This is the Palace-place of Pelias, Son of Poseidon, of Iolchus King
jason. Iolchus’ King is here, in very truth. Where is the son of Tyro?
men. Who art thou?
jason. Know me for Jason and great Aeson’s heir.
men. We learn good news, most enviable sir; That Aeson hath such grand inheritance.
jason. You have grown fat beneath an evil rule. Your period is at hand. Go, one of you, And drag the impious wretch before my sight!
men. Aeson? Thy father?
jason. Play not with my wrath! My mood is something dangerous.
men. Dangerous sir, I go indeed, to bring some danger more Hither.
jason. Poltroonery dislikes the wise. Fair maidens, I salute you pleasantly.
women. Welcome, O welcome to the land, Young heir of prophecy! The arméd hand, the glittering brand, The scabbard’s jewellery! That wealth avails not: cast it down! The sword alone may win the crown!
jason. Ye languish wretched in the tyrant’s rule?
women. Most happy are we, King. But change is sweet.
jason. A short-lived omen of success to me.
women. Nay, but adventure and the prophecy!
jason. I see I have but small support in you.
women. Not so, great Jason! Had I suffered much, My spirit had been broken to the scourge. Now, being strong and happy, with what joy I cry: Evohe! Revolution! I have grown weary of this tiresome peace.
jason. I promise you intense unhappiness.
women. Here is the ugly monster! Out! To think We once believed him reverend and refined, Saw majesty in all that tottering gait, And honour in the goat-like beard of him!
First WOman. A week ago your blue eyes were in tears, Sidelong regarding the old montebank.
second woman. To-day I would not be his concubine For all Iolchus—for all Thessaly!
third woman. I see the same glance seek out Jason now.
second woman. Ay, there’s a man! What muscles! What fine fire In the quick eye! What vigour and warm strength!
First WOman. Yes, in your wishes. But indeed he is A proper man. Away, you ancient egg!
Pelias. With what audacious foot and impious voice Strides this young man and talks? Let him advance, Trembling at our offended majesty. Who art thou whose rude summons startles us From work of state to listen a young mouth Beardless? Speak, man, for shortly thou shalt die.
jason. Athena speaks.
women. Ah, there’s a fine retort!
Pelias. Goddesses speak and men list reverently. Could he not find a fitter messenger?
jason. Her cause is Jason’s. Jason therefore speaks.
Pelias. Aha! A suppliant to our clemency! I did mistake the gesture and the sword Angrily gripped, the foot flung terribly Foremost, the fierce, constrainéd attitude. But—as a suppliant! Tell thy woeful tale, Sad youth! Some woman thou hast loved and lost?
jason. Thou hast robbed me of this kingdom. Thou hast kept My father (poor half-witted man!) a slave And parasite about thy court (one grief The more I add to this account of thine!) Myself a babe thou didst seek out to slay, And, I being hid, with fish-hooks bent with lies And gilded with most specious promises, Cunningly angled for old Chiron’s grace To catch me yet. Athena hears me swear To right all this—nay, answer me before Anger get all the spoil of me, and drink Thy life-blood in one gulp! Descend that daïs! Bend thou a suppliant at my awful knee, And thus—perhaps—at least get grace of life.
Pelias. And if I say I will not yield the throne?
jason. I am of force to take it.
Pelias. Are my friends Not faithful? Who draws sword for Pelias?
men. Shall we not slay thee this presumptuous fool?
jason. I am of force, I say. I wrestled once From sunrise to sunset with Heracles, Great Heracles! Not till the full moon rose Availed his might to lay me prone. Beware! Ye weakling knaves! I am of force, I say.
Pelias. Rebellious youth, the justice of thy cause And force I will admit—where force goes far. But think’st thou wait no wild Erinnyes For thee a guest in these my halls, for thee Whose hands are dipped not yet in blood so deep As to have murdered an old man, and him Thy father’s brother?
jason. Justice covers all. The Furies cannot follow if a man To his own heart be reconciled. They feed On his own bosom, nay! are born thereof. An alien clan he might elude, but these, Blood of his blood, he shall nor slay nor ’scape. My heart hath never pastured on regret Or pang for thee. My justice covers all.
Pelias. That one word “justice” covers all indeed To thine own self. But think’st thou for a word To ruin many years of commonweal, And poison in an hour the politics Of states and thrones for—justice? Thou art just; But wisdom, but the life of innocents, The happiness of all, are better served By solemn thought and weighty counsel held.
jason. This is more simple. I abolish thee— One sword-sweep—and assume thy “politics.”
Pelias. Thou art this “simple”! Will my liege allies (Willing with age and wisdom to accord) Not tremble at thy firebrand breed, not think Who hath in blood, an old man’s blood, made fast A perilous footing, may betimes discover More “justice”—and invasion footing it Hard after? Wilt thou plunge all Thessaly, All Greece, in haste and sudden armament, Fury of thought and frenzy of deed, at once For justice? Wouldst thou be so violent For justice, save in thine own cause, O boy? And wilt thou pity not the happy days And storm-unshatteréd abodes of Greece?
jason. Athena, who is Justice, also is Wisdom: and also “She who buildeth towns.”
Pelias. Think also, I am born of deity. I am inured to majesty; I know How venerable is the sight of Kings, And how the serpent Treason writhes beneath The royal foot, conscious of its own shame, And how the lion of Rebellion cowers Before the presence of a king unarmed, Quelled by one mild glance of authority.
jason. A king unjust is shorn of majesty.
Pelias. Still the one fool’s word—justice—answers all. Would thou wert older and more politic!
jason. Would I were liar with thine own foul brand! The gods are weary of thy cozening.
Pelias. To proof, then, boy. I lay my sceptre by, Put off my crown, descend the steps to thee. Here is my breast. Look firmly in my face, And slay me. Is there fear writ large and deep In mine old eyes? Or shudderest thou with fear?
jason. More hate than fear. In sooth, I cannot strike.
Pelias. A king is not so slain—except a madman May fall upon him with averted head. Indeed, I conquer. [Aside.] Even so, beware! Victory ill-nurtured breeds the babe defeat. [Aloud.] Listen, my brother’s son! Nay, stoop not so, Bending ashaméd brows upon the earth! I am well weary of the world of men. I grow both old and hateful to myself, Most on the throne: power which to youth is sweet To age looks fearful. Also I have wept— Alas! how often!—and repented me Of those unkingly deeds whereby I gained This throne whose joy is turned to bitterness. I will make peace with thee, and justice still Shall have a home and shrine in Thessaly. Be patient notwithstanding! Prove thyself Valiant and wise—and reign here! If in sooth An aged counsellor, whose reverend hair Commands a hearing, may assist at all, Wisdom to wisdom added, I am here. Yet would I rather slide into my grave, Untroubled with the destinies of states, Even of such an one so dear to me Who thus a score of years have nurtured it.
jason. I hear thee. Thou art grown like royal wine Better with age. Forgive my violence!
Pelias. [Aside.] The fish bites hard. [Aloud.] There is a prophecy: “Once stirred, Iolchus never shall know peace Till in its temple hangs the Golden Fleece.” Now thou hast so disquieted our days, The time is come: seek thou Aea’s isle, And hang this trophy on our temple walls!
jason. Tell me what is this fleece.
Pelias. Let women sing.
women. In Ares’ grove, the sworded trees, The world’s heart wondering, Hangs evermore the Golden Fleece, The glory of the spring, The light of far Aea’s coast. Such glamour as befits a ghost.
Before that glittering woof the Sun Shrinks back abashed in shame, The splendour of the shining one, One torrent-fleece of flame! What heart may think, what tongue may sing The glory of the golden thing?
About the grove the scorpion coils Inextricably wind Within the wood’s exceeding toils, The shadow hot and blind; There lurk his serpent sorceries, The guardian of the Golden Fleece.
The dragon lifts his nostrils wide And jets a spout of fire; The warrior questing turns aside, Not daring to desire; And Madness born of Ares lurks Behind the wonder of his works.
Be sure that were the woodland way Tracked snakewise to the core, The dragon slain or driven away, The good Fleece won by war, Not yet should Ares sink his spear, Or fail of flinging forth a fear.
The torch of Madness should be lit, And follow him afar: Upon his prow should Madness sit, A baleful beacon-star; And in his home Despair and strife Lie in his bosom for a wife!
But oh, the glory of the quest, The gainless goodly prize! The fairest form man e’er caressed, The word he heard most wise;— All lures of life avoid and cease Before the winning of the Fleece!
O nameless splendour of the Gods, Begotten hardly of Heaven! Unspoken treasure of the abodes Beyond the lightning levin! No misery, no despair may pay The joy to hold thee for a day!
jason. Athena’s servant recks not much of Ares.
Pelias. Are thine eyes kindled at the golden thought?
jason. Mine eyes see farther than the Fleece of Gold.
Pelias. What heroes can attain so fair a thing?
jason. I have some friends who would esteem this quest Lightly—a maiden’s pleasure-wandering Through lilied fields a summer’s afternoon.
Pelias. The Gods give strength! I pray them send thee back Safe to this throne.
jason. I will not see thy face Ever again until the quest be won. Rule thou with justice in my sacred seat Until I come again.
Pelias. The Gods thy speed.
men. The hardy hero goes to find The living Fleece of Gold; Or else, some death may chance to bind Those limbs of manly mould. In sooth, I doubt if I shall earn The singer’s fee for his return.
Pelias. Think now—I feared that fool. It must be true That guilt is timorous. Ay! when danger’s none! Let but swords flash—and guilt grows God for might! Indeed I rule—until he come again. Ay, when the stars fall, Jason shall be king!
EXPLICIT ACTUS PRIMUS.
ARGONAUTAE.
ACTUS SECUNDUS
ARGO
ARGO.
To the Hon. P. Ramanthan, C.M.G.
and
Rudyard Kipling
on
The Occasion
of
Sunrise
ARGONAUTAE.
ACTUS SECUNDIS.
Argus the son of Phrixus, Jason, Heracles, Castor, Pollux, Theseus, Orpheus. Chorus of Heroes. Chorus of Shipbuilders.
Scene: An open place near Iolchus.
chorus of shipbuilders. The sound of the hammer and steel! The song of the level and line! The whirr of the whistling wheel! The ring of the axe on the pine!
The joy of the ended labour, As the good ship plunges free By sound of pipe and tabor To front the sparkling sea!
The mystery-woven spell! The voyage of golden gain! The free full sails that swell On the swell of the splendid main!
The song of the axe and the wedge! The clang of the hammer and chain! Keen whistle of chisel and edge! Smooth swish of the sliding plane!
Hail to the honour of toil! Hail! to the ship flown free! Hail! to the golden spoil, And the glamour of all the sea!
heracles. A good stout song, friend Argus, matching well The mighty blows thou strikest: yet methinks One blow should serve to drive yon nail well home Where thou with tenfold stroke—
theseus. Good Heracles! Not all men owe thy strength—
argus. Nay, let him try! Take my toy hammer!
heracles. I have split the wood!
theseus. Vexation sits tremendous on his brow. Beware a hero’s fury! Thou art mad, Argus, to play so dangerous a trick.
argus. True, Theseus—if he had but hit his thumb!
castor. Cease this fool’s talk. The moon waits not the work.
pollux. The sun will sink no later for your pleasure. On to thy work, man.
theseus. He that traps a lion And baits him for an hour, and lets him go, Does well to think before he tempt again The forest paths.
heracles. The wise man wisely thinks That nothing is but wisdom—and myself Think strongly that no other thing exists But strength: so with his subtleties of mind He baffles me; and I lift up my club, And with one blow bespatter his wise brains.
jason. Ay, not for nothing did the darkness reign Those eight-and-forty hours, O Zeus-begot!
theseus. Tell me, friend master, how the work goes on. When shall our gallant vessel breast the deep? When shall we see the sun sink o’er the poop, And look toward moonrise, and the land be lost, And the perched watcher on the mast behold The melting mirror of the ocean meet The crystallising concave of the sky?
argus. All this shall happen when the work is done.
jason. How many moons, friend fool, before that day?
argus. These things are known not even to the Gods, Except the Father only.
heracles. Fools must talk,
argus. I talk, divulging nothing.
heracles. I strike thee, Yet act not.
argus. Hero, stay that heavy hand! The ship shall sail ere spring.
theseus. But now you talk More as befits a workman to a king.
jason. Be gentle now, my friends! These shipbuilders, Reared in the rugged borders of the North, Have northern manners; surly if attacked, But genial when—
argus. The proper treatment is Kindness—like lions whom Demeter tamed.
theseus. I promise thee, the next time thou art wroth, A second kindness from Alcides’ hand.
argus. Spare me that, King, and take, thyself, a club.
jason. King Theseus, thou art far reputed wise. Hast thou not learnt a lesson from the hap Of Heracles supreme in—shipbuilding? I by my meekness will abash thy strength. Good Argus, thou art unsurpassed in art To curve the rougher timbers, to make smooth The joints and girders, and to plane and work The iron and the nailheads, and to lift Row after row the tiers of benches thrice In triple beauty, and to shape the oars, To raise the mast—
argus. Thy knowledge staggers me! How wast thou thus instructed?
jason. By much thought. To clamp the decks—
argus. I stand with brows abashed. Thou art the master—build the ship thyself.
jason. Nay, but my knowledge is of mind alone. I cannot so apply it as to build An Argo.
argus. Yet I verily believe Such mind must pierce far deeper than these names, Seeking the very nature of the things Thou namest thus so pat. Perchance to thee These logs, nails, bolts, tools, have some life of sense, Some subtle language. Tell us what they say!
theseus. ’Tis but a giber—leave the churl alone.
jason. Indeed I spake of things I knew not of.
argus. You speak more wisely when you float away Into pure dream, and talk of mystic things That no man born of woman understands, And therefore does not dare to contradict.
jason. He who speaks much and bitterly at last Lays himself open to retort. I think I never heard such contradictions fly As when men talk of gods—that never were!
argus. Thou wouldst do better to leave man alone. The wisest talk is folly when work waits. Look! how these sturdy villains gape around, Fling down their task, and hang upon the words That flow like nectar from your majesty.
castor. In truth, my friend, if you would wear your crown This side of Orcus, you should go away.
pollux. Ay! let the men work! For a mind as yours Is good, and skill as theirs is also good.
castor. But mix the manual and the mental—well, No ship was built by pure philosophy.
pollux. Nor yet designed by artisans.
jason. Enough! Come, great Alcides, it is time to go.
argus. A fool allows a moment’s irritation To move the purpose of a thousand years. Go, go!
heracles. Remember! We are met this day To call upon the name with praise and prayer Of great Athena, since our ship is built With sculptured olive pregnant in the prow, And all the length of pine is coiled and curled With the swift serpent’s beauty, and the owl Sits in huge state upon the midmost bench. Thus, therefore, by the manifest design, Joining the wisdom to the power and will, We build the Argo.
argus. What a heavy club We carry! And how well becomes our figure The lion’s skin!
heracles. Be still, thou art an ass!
argus. The fabled, ass, O Zeus-descended one?
heracles. What ass?
argus. The one that wore the lion’s skin!
theseus. This fellow were beneath a man’s contempt. How should a God-born heed him?
jason. We are here, Then, to invoke Athena, immolate the sacred cock upon her altar-stone, That She, who sprang in armour from the brain Of the All-Father, may descend to bless Our labours, since delay grows dangerous, If haply by Her power and subtlety She please to aid the work, and to perform A prodigy to save us! Mighty Queen, That art the balance and the sword alike In cunning Argus’ brain—
heracles. Ay! Mighty Wisdom, Who thus can overshadow such a fool, And make him capable to build a ship.
argus. O thou! Athena, whose bright wisdom shone In this beef-witted fellow, making him Competent even to sweep a stable out! Glorious task!—I shall return anon.
jason. Nay, follow not! The Goddess were displeased, Coming, to find our greatest hero gone.
theseus. This is the midmost hour of day.
jason. Arise, All heroes, circling round the sacred stone In beautiful order and procession grave, While our chief priest, our mightiest in song, The dowered of Phoebus, great Oeager’s heir, Invokes that glory on the sacrifice That kindles all its slumber into life And vivid flame descending on the wheel And chariot of lightning, licking up The water of the loud-resounding sea Lustral, poured seven times upon the earth And in one flash consuming wood and stone And the sweet savour of the sacrifice.
orpheus. But when the flame hath darted from the eye Of my divine existence, and hath left Nothing, where was the altar and the earth, The water and the incense and the victim— Nothing of all remains! Then look to it That ye invoke not Wisdom by the Name Of bright Athena!
jason. We are here to call Upon that Wisdom by that mighty Name!
orpheus. Who calleth upon Wisdom is not wise. Is it not written in the Sibyl’s book That Wisdom crieth in the streets aloud And none regardeth her? Obey my voice.
jason. O master of Apollo’s lyre and light! We are not wise—and for that very cause We meet to-day to call on Wisdom.
orpheus. Well! The altar stands, shadowing the Universe That with my fire of Knowledge I destroy— And there is Wisdom—but invoke Her not, Friends, Who is only when none other is.
jason. Let us begin: the hour draws on apace. Drive off the demons from the sacrifice!
orpheus. Let all the demons enter and dwell therein! My friends, ye are as ignorant as priests! Let there be silence while the sleeper wakes!
O coiled and constricted and chosen! O tortured and twisted and twined! Deep spring of my soul deep frozen, The sleep of the truth of the mind! As a bright snake curled Round the vine of the World!
O sleeper through dawn and through daylight, O sleeper through dusk and through night! O shifted from white light to gray light, From gray to the one black light! O silence and sound In the far profound!
O serpent of scales as an armour To bind on the breast of a lord! Not deaf to the Voice of the Charmer, Not blind to the sweep of the sword! I strike to the deep That thou stir in thy sleep!
Rise up from mine innermost being! Lift up the gemmed head to the heart! Lift up till the eyes that were seeing Be blind, and their life depart! Till the eye that was blind Be a lamp to my mind!
Coil fast all they coils on me, dying, Absorbed in the sense of the Snake! Stir, leave the flower-throne, and up-flying Hiss once, and hiss thrice, and awake! Then crown me and cling! Flash forward—and spring!
Flash forth on the fire of the altar, The stones, and the sacrifice shed; Till the Three Worlds flicker and falter, And life and her love be dead! In mysterious joy Awake—and destroy!
jason. It is enough!
heracles. Too great for a god’s strength!
theseus. Speak!
castor. Change! Not to be borne!
pollux. But this is death!
orpheus. Let the light fade. The oracle is past.
jason. The Voice is past. We are alive again.
orpheus. What spake That Silence?
heracles. “This is not a quest Where strength availeth aught.” I shall not go.
jason. Nay, brother. The voice was: “The end is sorrow!”
theseus. Ye heard not, O dull-witted! Unto me (Alone of all ye wise) the great voice came, “The Gates of Hell shall not in all prevail.”
castor. I heard, “Regret not thy mortality! Love conquers death!”
pollux. But I, “Regret not thou Thine immortality! Love conquers life!”
orpheus. A partial wisdom to a partial ear.
jason. But what speech came to thee?
orpheus. I heard no voice.
argus. What means this? Here’s my labour thrown away, My skill made jest of, all my wage destroyed At one fell stroke.
jason. What? Is the Argo burnt?
argus. Burnt! Should I then complain? The ship is finished.
jason. The Goddess, furious at thine absence, Argus, Hath frenzied thee with some delusion.
heracles. Calm! Control thy madness! I am sorry now My pungent wit so shamed his arrogance As made him seem to scorn Athena.
argus. Thou! But see me, I am ruined. The good ship Is finished! Where’s my daily wage?
jason. Be sure I pay thee treble if thy tale be true.
argus. Ay! treble nothing! I shall buy a palace.
jason. Treble thine utmost wish.
argus. Two evils then Thou pilest on one good! But come and see! The Argo is discovered.
chorus of heroes. By wisdom framed from ancient days The stately Argo stands above; Too firm to fear, too great to praise, The might of bright Athena’s love! Oh! ship of glory! tread the foam, And bring our guerdon from its home!
The silent thought, the hand unseen, The rayless majesty of light Shed from the splendour of our Queen Athena! mystery and might; These worked invisibly to bring The end of triumph to our King.
Great Jason, wronged by hate of man, Shall pass the portals of the deep; Shall seek the waters wide and wan; Shall pass within the land of sleep; And there the guardians of the soil Shall rest at last from pain and toil.
O ruler of the empyréan, Behold his fervour conquering The fury of the breed Cadmean, The dragons of the Theban king; And arméd men shall spring from earth In vain to ward the gloomy girth!
But thou, Athena, didst devise Some end beyond our mortal ken, Thy soul impenetrably wise Shines not to us unthinking men. O guard the warrior band of Greece, And win for us the Golden Fleece!
By miracle this happy day The ship is finished for our quest. Bring thou the glory from the gray! Bring thou our spirits into rest! O Wisdom, that hast helped so far, Sink never thou thy guiding star!
chorus of workmen. Then let us gather one and all, And launch our dragon on the main With paeans raised most musical, Until our heroes come again. With watching and with prayer we wait The imperious Destinies of Fate!
EXPLICIT ACTUS SECUNDUS
ARGONAUTAE
ACTUS TERTIUS
MEDEA
MEDEA.
To
Whomsoever
and
The British Army
on
The Occasion
of
Reading ‘Man and Superman’
ARGONAUTAE.
ACTUS TERTIUS.
Aeetes, Jason, Medea, Messengers, Chorus of Heroes.
Scene: The Palace of Aeetes.
aeetes. Were this man son of Zeus, beloved of Heaven, And skilled with very craft of Maia’s son, Stronger than Phoebus, subtler than the Sphinx, This plague should catch him, nor my wisdom spare.
chorus of heroes. Thus hast thou sent him unto Hades, king.
aeetes. Not otherwise were such gain possible. Ye are the witnesses that with much skill, And eloquence of shining words, and thought Darkling behind their measured melody, I did dissuade him.
chorus. Such an enterprise After such toils no man should lightly leave. Remember all the tasks impossible This hero hath already done, before He ever touched this sounding coast of thine.
aeetes. Alas! but now his weird is loneliness!
chorus. Was that from Destiny, or will of thine?
aeetes. I love him little. Yet my words were true, Nor would it skill him aught if myriad men Bucklered his back and breast. For when a man Batters with sword-hilt at the frowning gates That lead to the Beyond, not human force— Hardly the favour of the gods themselves— Shall stead him in that peril.
chorus. Yet we know Courage may conquer all things.
aeetes. Such a man Is greater than the gods!
chorus. If only he Know who he is—that all these gods and men And things are but the shadows of himself!
aeetes. I cannot give you hope. Await the end.
chorus. We fear indeed that in the trap Of wiles our king is taken. Lachesis shakes a careless lap And dooms divine awaken! A desolate and cruel hap In this sad hour is shaken.
The desperate son and violent Of Helios hath designed A fate more hard than Pelias meant, Revolving in his mind Mischief to catch the coiled ascent Of groaning humankind.
O bright Athena, hitherto Protectress of the quest, Divide the deep descending blue! Be present, ever-blest! Bring thou the hero Jason through To victory—and rest!
medea. Not by Athena’s calm omnipotence, O heroes, look for safety! Little men, Looking to God, are blinded; mighty ones, Seeking His presence, reel before the glance; And They, the greatest that may be of men, Become that light, and care no whit for earth. But all your prayers are answered by yourselves, As I myself achieve this thought of mine.
chorus. To me thou seemest to blaspheme the gods.
medea. Belike I seem, O ye of little wit.
chorus. Surely thy tender years and gentle looks Belie such hatred to our king! I scorn To triumph on an enemy once fallen.
medea. Fools always! I am tenderer than my years, And gentler than my glances.
chorus. Sayst thou—what?
medea. Ye know me a most powerful sorceress.
chorus. So I have heard, O lotus-footed one! Nathless I see not any miracle.
medea. Last night the heavy-hearted audience Broke up, and Jason wended wearily His way, oppressed by direful bodements of The fate of this forenoon. I saw him go Sad, and remembered how sublime he stood, Bronzed with a ruder sun than ours, and scarred (Rough tokens of old battles) yet so calm And mild (with all that vigour) that to me Came a swift pity—the enchanter’s bane. That I flung from me. But my subtle soul Struck its own bosom with the sword of thought, So that I saw not pity, but desire!
chorus. Surely a bane more potent than the first.
medea. Love is itself enchantment!
chorus. Some kind god Whispers from this a little light of hope.
medea. Only the hopeless are the happy ones.
chorus. But didst thou turn him from his gleaming goal? Cover that shame with sweeter shame than this?
medea. Thou knowest that his vigil was to keep, Invoking all Olympus all the night, And then to yoke the oxen, and to plough The fearful furrow, sow the dreadful seed, Smite down the armies, and assuage the pest Of slime thrice coiled about the sacred grove.
chorus. Thy bitter love disturbed that solitude?
medea. Not bitter, heroes. See ye yet the end?
chorus. Our good quest ended by thy father’s hate, And by thy own hour’s madness! This I see.
medea. But if he gain the Fleece?
chorus. A blissful end.
medea. This end and that are moulded diversely.
chorus. Riddle no more, nor ply with doubtful hope Hearts ready to rejoice and to despair Equally minded.
medea. At the midmost hour, His mind given up to sleepless muttering Of charms not mine—decrees Olympian— All on a sudden he felt fervent arms Flung round him, and a hot sweet body’s rush Lithe to embrace him, and a cataract Of amber-scented hair hissing about His head, and in the darkness two great eyes Flaming above him, and the whole face filled With fire and shapen as kisses. And those arms And kisses and mad movements of quick love Burnt up his being, and his life was lost In woman’s love at last!
chorus. Unseemly act! Who dared thus break on meditation?
medea. I.
chorus. Surely thy passion mastered thee, O queen!
medea. I tell you—thus the night passed.
chorus. Verily, The woman raves.
medea. Such victory as this Outsails all shame. Before the dawn was up I bound such talismans about his breast That fire and steel grow dew and flowery wreaths For all their power to hurt him. Presently I made a posset, drugged with somnolence, Sleepy with poppy and white hellebore, Fit for the dragon. This was my design.
chorus. Beware thy father’s anger when he finds His plans thus baffled! He will murder us.
medea. Heroes indeed ye are, and lion hearts.
chorus. No woman need school me in bravery.
medea. Rather a hare.
chorus. Most impudent of whores!
medea. But when my husband comes victorious Fleece-laden, he will rather—
chorus. Wilt thou then Further my ruin, making known this shame!
medea. Here is the Argive sense of gratitude. Let me stir up its subtler thought, and show What favours ye may gather afterward From hands and lips ye scorn—not courteously.
chorus. What? Canst thou save us from this newer doom?
medea. I love your leader with no mortal love, But with the whole strength of a sorceress.
chorus. It seems indeed thy hot will can bewitch Our chaste one with one action impudent.
medea. I will not leave him ever in the world.
chorus. Persistence in these ills—will cure them not. “Worst” is the hunter, “worse” the hound, when “bad” Is the stag’s name.
medea. We rule Iolchus’ land.
chorus. Indeed the hunter follows. I despise Lewd conduct in the lowest, and detest Spells hurtful to the head, when ancient hags Brew their bad liquors at the waning moon, Barking their chants of murder. But to rule A land, and wive a king, and bread to him Kings—then such persons are unsuitable.
medea. Unless these words were well repented of I might transform ye into—
chorus. Stay, great queen!
medea. Well for your respite comes this messenger.
messenger. Queen and fair mother of great kings unborn, And mighty chosen of the land of Greece, A tiding of deep bliss is born to you.
chorus. Tell me that Jason has achieved the quest.
messenger. Truth is no handmaid unto happiness.
chorus. What terror dost thou fill my heart withal?
medea. O timorous heroes! Let the herald speak! Who meets fear drives her back; who flees from fear Stumbles; who cares not, sees her not. Speak on!
the messenger. Terrible bellowings as of angry bulls Broke from the stable as the first swift shaft Of dawn smote into it: and stampings fierce Resounded, shaking the all-mother earth. Whereunto came the calm and kingly man, Smiling as if a sweet dream still beguiled His waking brows; not caring any more For spring or summer; heeding least of all That tumult of ox-fury. Suddenly A light sprang in his face; the great hand shot Forth, and broke in the brass-bound door; the day Passed with him inwards; then the brazen hoofs Beat with a tenfold fury on the stone. But Jason, swiftly turned, evaded these, And chose two oxen from that monstrous herd To whose vast heads he strode, and by the horns Plucked them. Then fire, devouring, sprang at him From furious nostrils: and indignant breath, Fountains of seething smoke, spat forth at him. But with no tremor of aught that seemed like fear Drew them by sheer strength from their place, and yoked Their frenzy to his plough, and with the goad Urged them, thrice trampling the accurséd field Until the furrows flamed across the sun, Treading whose glory stood Apollo’s self As witness of the deed. Then at last thrust Savage, drove them less savage to their stalls, And Jason turned and laughed. Then drew he out The dreadful teeth of woe, Cadmean stock Of Thebes’ old misery, and presently Pacing the furrowed field, he scattered them With muttered words of power athwart the course Of the bright moon, due path of pestilence And terror. Ere the last bone fell to earth The accurséd harvest sprang to life. Armed men, Fiery with anger, rose upon the earth While Jason stood, one witnessing a dream, Not one who lives his life. The sword and spear Turn not to him, but mutual madness strikes The warriors witless, and fierce wrath invades Their hearts of fury, and with arms engaged They fell upon each other silently And slew, and slew. As in the middle seas A mirage flashes out and passes, so The phantoms faded, and the way was clear. Thus, stepping ever proud and calm, he went Unto the grove of Ares, where the worm, Huge in his hatred, guarded all. But now Sunk in some stupor, surely sent of Zeus, He stirred not. Stepping delicately past The dragon, then came Jason to the grove And saw what tree umbrageous bore the fruit That he had saddened for so long. And he, Rending the branches of that wizard Oak, With a strong grasp tore down the Fleece of Gold. Then came a voice: “Woe, woe! Aea’s isle! Thy glory is departed!” And a voice Answered it “Woe!” Then Jason seemed to see Some Fear behind the little former fears; And his face blanched a moment, as beholding Some Fate, some distant grief. Then, catching sight Now of the glory of his gain, he seemed Caught in an ecstasy, treading the earth As in a brighter dream than Aphrodite Sent ever to a man, he turned himself (We could not see him for the golden flame Burning about him!) moving hitherward. But I took horse and hasted, since reward May greet such tidings, and for joy to see Your joy exceed my joy.
medea. Reward indeed Awaits thee from such folk as us, who stand In fear of life, when great Aeetes hears This news, and how all came.
messenger. My lady’s smile Is the reward I sought, not place nor gold.
medea. Thou hast it, child.
second messenger. The hero is at hand.
chorus. O happy of mortals! O fronter of fear, The impassable portals! Ye heavens, give ear! Our song shall be rolled in the praise of the gold, and its glory be told where the heavenly fold rejoices to hold the stars in its sphere.
O hero Iolchian! Warrior king! From the kingdom Colchian The Fleece dost bring! Our song shall be sung and its melody flung where the Lyre and the Tongue are fervid and young, all islands among where the Sirens sing.
Thou bearest, strong shoulder, The sunbright fleece! Glow swifter and bolder And brighter—and cease! O glory of light! O woven of night! O shining and bright! O dream of delight! How splendid the sight for the dwellers of Greece!
Gained is the guerdon! The prize is won. The fleecy burden, The soul of the sun! The toil is over; the days discover high joys that hover of lover and lover, and fates above her are fallen and done.
jason. Queen of this people! O my heart’s desire Spotless, the Lady of my love, and friends By whose heroic arduous I am found Victor at last, well girded with the spoil Of life in gleaming beauty, and this prize Thrice precious, my Medea—all is won! Needs only now the favouring kiss of Eurus, Bright-born of Eos, to fulfil for us The last of all the labours, to inspire The quick-raised sail, and fill that flushing gold With thrice desiréd breath, that once again Our prow plunge solemn in the Argive waters To strains of music—victory at peace Mingling with sweeter epithalamy— To tell our friends how happy was the quest.
medea. But not those strains of music, though divine From Orpheus’ wingéd lyre, exalt at all Our joy to joy, beyond all music’s power!
chorus. I fear Aeetes, and the Pelian guile.
jason. Fear is but failure, hearld of distress!
medea. What virtue lives there in the coward’s heart?
chorus. In sooth, I have no fear at all—to flee.
jason. Night, like a mist, steals softly from the East. The hand of darkness gathers up the folds Of day’s gold garment, and the valleys sink Into slow sadness, though the hills retain That brilliance for a little.
chorus. Let us go! Methinks that under cover of the night I may escape Aeetes.
jason. If he chase, Our Argo is not battered by rough winds So far but what some fight were possible
medea. [Leads forward Absyrtus.] I know a better way than that, my lord. This boy shall come with us.
jason. Ah, not to Greece! Aea needs to-morrow’s king.
medea. “With us” I said. “To Greece”—I said not.
chorus. What is this? Thou hintest at some dangerous destiny.
medea. Come love, to the long years of love with me!
jason. Form, heroes, and in solemn order stride; The body-guardians of the Golden Fleece!
medea. Guarding your king and queen on every side—
chorus. We sail triumphant to the land of Greece.
medea. A woman’s love, a woman’s power be told Through ages, gainers of the Fleece of Gold.
EXPLICIT ACTUS TERTIUS.
ARGONAUTAE
ACTUS QUARTUS
SIRENAE
SIRENAE.
To
Councillor von EoN
and
Laura Grimes, Lucule Hill, Mary Beaten,
on
the occasion
of
Homecoming
ARGONAUTAE.
ACTUS QUARTUS.
Jason, Medea, Orpheus, Theseus, Heracles, Chorus of Heroes, the Sirens.
Scene: The Argo.
medea. Ay! I would murder not my brother only, But tear my own limbs, strew them on the sea, To keep one fury from the man I love!
chorus. This act and speech are much akin to madness.
medea. Remember that your own skins pay the price.
chorus. I now remember somewhat of the voice Of the oracle, that Madness should hunt hard On the thief’s furtive track, upon the prow Brooding, and at the table president, And spouse-like in the bed.
medea. But this is like That Indian fable of a king: how he, Taking some woman—an indecent act Not proper to be done!—against the will Of priests or princes, sought the nuptial bed And “Climbed the bed’s disastrous side, He found a serpent, not a bride; And scarcely daring to draw breath, He passed the dumb night-hours with death, Till in the morning cold and gray The hooded fear glided away. Which morning saw ten thousand pay The price of jesting with a king!”—
jason. Indeed these toils and dangerous pursuits, Labours and journeys, go to make one mad. Well were it to beguile our weariness With song.
medea. And here is the sole king of song.
orpheus. My song breaks baffled on the rocks of time If thy bewitching beauty be the theme.
medea. Sing me thy song, sweet poet, of the sea That song of swimming when thy love lost sense Before the passion of the Infinite.
jason. The more so as my master warns me oft Of late how near that island is, where dwell The alluring daughters of Melpomene.
orpheus. Light shed from seaward over breakers bending Kiss-wise to the emerald hollows; light divine Whereof the sun is God, the sea his shrine; Light in vibrations rhythmic; light unending; Light sideways from the girdling crags extending Unto this lone and languid head of mine; Light, that fulfils creation as with wine, Flows in the channels of the deep: light, rending The adamantine columns of the night. Is laden with the love-song of the light.
Light, pearly-glimmering through dim gulf and hollow, Below the foam-kissed lips of all the sea; Light shines from all the sky and up to me From the amber floors of sand: Light calls Apollo! The shafts of fire fledged of the eagle follow The crested surf, and strike the shore, and flee Far from green cover, nymph-enchanted lea, Fountain, and plume them white as the sea-swallow, And turn and quiver in the ocean, seeming The glances of a maiden kissed, or dreaming.
Light, as I swim through rollers green and gleaming, Sheds its most subtle sense to penetrate This heart I thought impervious to Fate. Now the sweet light, the full delight, is beaming Through me and burns me: all my flesh is teeming With the live kisses of the sea, my mate, My mistress, till the fires of life abate And leave me languid, man-forgotten, deeming I see in sleep, in many-coloured night, More hope than in the flame-waves of the light.
Light! ever light! I swim far out and follow The footsteps of the wind, and light invades My desolate soul, and all the cypress shades Glow with transparent lustre, and the hollow I thought I had hidden in my heart must swallow The bitter draught of Truth; no Nereid maids Even in my sea are mine; the whole sea’s glades And hills and springs are void of my Apollo— The Sea herself my tune and my desire! The Sun himself my lover and my lyre!
chorus. This song is sweeter than the honeycomb.
medea. Nearly as sweet as good friends quarrelling.
jason. Look, friends, methinks I see a silvern shape Like faint mist floating on the farthest sea.
medea. I see a barren rock above the tides.
jason. I hear a sound like water whispering.
medea. I hear a harsh noise like some ancient crone Muttering curses.
jason. Now I hear a song. ’Tis like some shape of sleep that moans for joy, Some bridal sob of love!
medea. O Son of God! My poet, swiftly leap the live lyre forth! Else we are all enchanted—yet to me This song is nowise lovely. But in him I note the live look of the eyes leap up, And all his love for me forgotten straight At the mere echo of that tune.
orpheus. Hark, friends! Aea’s tune—my Colchian harbour-song!
I hear the waters faint and far, And look to where the Polar Star, Half hidden in the haze, divides The double chanting of the tides;
But, where the harbour’s gloomy mouth Welcomes the stranger to the south, The water shakes, and all the sea Grows silver suddenly.
As one who standing on the moon Sees the vast horns in silver hewn, Himself in darkness, and beholds How silently all space unfolds Into her shapeless breast the spark And sacred phantom of the dark; So in the harbour-horns I stand Till I forget the land.
Who sails through all that solemn space Out to the twilight’s secret place, The sleepy waters move below His ship’s imaginary flow. No song, no lute, so lowly chaunts In woods where still Arsibe haunts, Wrapping the wanderer with her tresses Into untold carresses.
For none of all the sons of men That hath known Artemis, again Turns to the warmer earth, nor vows His secrets to another spouse. The moon resolves her beauty in The sea’s deep kisses salt and keen; The sea assumes the lunar light, And he—their eremite!
In their calm intercourse and kiss Even hell itself no longer is; For nothing in their love abides That passes not beneath their tides, And whoso bathes in light of theirs, And water, changes unawares To be no separate soul, but be Himself the moon and sea.
Not all the wealth that flowers shed, And sacred streams, on that calm head; Not all the earth’s spell-weaving dream And scent of new-turned earth shall seem Again indeed his mother’s breast To breathe like sleep and give him rest; He lives or dies in subtler swoon Beneath the sea and moon.
So standing, gliding, undeterred By any her alluring word That calls from older forest glades, My soul forgets the gentle maids That wooed me in the scarlet bowers, And golden cluster-woof of flowers; Forgets itself, content to be Between the moon and sea.
No passion stirs their depth, nor moves; No life disturbs their sweet dead loves; No being holds a crown or throne; They are, and I in them, alone: Only some lute-player grown star Is heard like whispering flowers afar; And some divided, single tune Sobs from the sea and moon.
Amid thy mountains shall I rise, O moon, and float about thy skies? Beneath thy waters shall I roam, O sea, and call thy valleys home? Or on Daedalian oarage fare Forth in the interlunar air? Imageless mirror-life! to be sole between moon and sea.
chorus. No song can lure us while he signs so well.
jason. But look! I see entrancing woman-forms That beckon—fairy-like and not of earth. So, fitter than the bed of this my queen To rest heroic limbs!
medea. The wretched one! Thou knowest that their kiss is death!
jason. Perhaps. It were their kiss.
medea. Are not my kisses sweet?
jason. Listen, they sing. This time the words ring true, Sailing across that blue abyss between. Like young birds winging their bright flight the notes Glimmer across the sea.
medea. They sing, they sing!
parthenope. O mortal, tossed on life’s unceasing ocean, Whose waves of joy and sorrow never cease, Eternal change—one changeless thing, commotion! Even in death no hint of calm and peace!— Here is the charm, the life-assuaging potion, Here is a better home for thee than Greece! Come, love, to my deep, soft, sleepy breast! Here is thy rest!
O mortal, said is life! But in my kisses Thou may’st forget its fever-parchéd thirst. Age, death, and sorrow fade in slender blisses: My swoon of love drinks up the draught accurst. And all thy seasons grow as sweet as this is, One constant summer in sleep’s bosom nursed. All storm and sunlight, star and season, cease Here is thy peace.
O mortal, sad is love! But my dominion Extends beyond love’s ultimate abode. Eternity itself is but a minion, Lighting my way on the untravelled road. Gods shelter ’neath one shadow of my pinion. Thou only tread the path none else hath trode! Come, lover, in my breast all blooms above, Here is thy love!
medea. My poet, now! The one song in the world!
orpheus. Above us on the mast is spread The splendour of the fleece! Before us, Argive maidens tread The glowing isles of Greece! Behind us, fear and toil are dead: Below, the breakers cease! The Holy Light is on my head— My very name is Peace!
The water’s music moves; and swings The sea’s eternal breast. The wind above us whistles, rings, And wafts us to the West. Greece lures us on with beckonings And sighs of slumber blest. I am not counted with the kings— My very name is Rest!
Medea shoots her sweetest glance And Jason bends above— Young virgins in Iolchus dance, Hearing the news thereof. The heroes—see their glad advance! Hath Greece not maids enough? I lie in love’s ecstatic trance. My very name is love!
ligia. Come over the water, love, to me! Come over the little space! Come over, my lover, and thou shalt see The beauty of my face! Come over the water! I will be A bride and a queen and a lover to thee!
Come over the water, love, and lie! All day and all night to kiss! Come over, my lover, an hour to die In the language-baffling bliss! Come over the water! Must I sigh? Thy lover and bride and queen am I!
Come over the water, love, and bide An hour in my swift caress! So short is the space, and so smooth the tide— More smooth is my loveliness! Come over the water, love, to my side! I am thy lover and queen and bride!
medea. Sing, poet, ere the rash fool leap!
jason. Ah, Zeus!
orpheus. The hearts of Greeks with sharper flames Burn than with one fire of all fire, We have the Races and the Games, The song, the chisel, and the lyre; We have the altar, we the shrine, And ours the joy of love and wine.
Why take one pleasure, put aside The myriad bliss of life diverse? Unchanging joy will soon divide Into the likeness of a curse. Have we no maidens, slender, strong, Daughters of tender-throated song?
I swear by Aphrodite’s eyes Our Grecian maids are fairer far! What love as sweet as their is lies In Sun or planet, moon or star? What nymphs as sweet as ours are dwell By foreign grove and alien well?
With every watchman’s cheery cry, “Land ho!” through all the journeying years Our ever-hoping hearts reply, “A land of bliss at last appears.” But what land laps a foreign foam So sweet as is the hero’s home?
At every port the novel sights Charm for an hour—delusive bliss. On every shore the false delights Of maidens ply the barbarous kiss. But where did hero think to stay Lulled in their love beyond a day?
No shoreland whistles to the wind So musically as Thrace: no town So gladdens the toil-weary mind As brave Athenae: no renown Stands so divine in war and peace As the illustrious name of Greece.
This island of the subtle song Shall vanish as the shaken spray Tossed by the billow far and strong On marble coasts: we will not stay! Dreams lure not those who ply the sail Before, the home! behind, the gale!
jason. Ah! I am torn, I am torn!
medea. God’s poet, hail! Help us, Apollo! Light of Sun, awake! This is the desperate hour.
jason. I have no strength.
medea. Beware the third, the awful ecstasy!
orpheus. A higher spell controls a lower song. Listen, they sing!
jason. Joy! Joy! they sing, they sing!
leucosia. O love, I am lonely here! O love, I am weeping! Each pearl of ocean is a tear Let fall while love was sleeping.
A tear is made of fire and dew And saddened with a smile; The sun’s laugh in the curving blue Lasts but a little while.
The night-winds kiss the deep: the stars Shed laughter from above; But night must pass dawn’s prison bars: Night hath not tasted love.
With me the night is fallen in day; The day swoons back to night; The white and black are woven in gray, Faint sleep of silken light.
A strange soft light about me shed Devours the sense of time: Hovers about my sleepy head Some sweet persistent rhyme.
Beneath my breast my love may hear Deep murmur of the billows— O gather me to thee, my dear, On soft forgetful pillows!
O gather me in arms of love As maidens plucking posies, Or mists that fold about a dove, Or valleys full of roses!
O let me fade and fall away From waking into sleep, From sleep to death, from gold to gray, Deep as the skies are deep!
O let me fall from death to dream, Eternal monotone; Faint eventide of sleep supreme With thee and love alone!
A jewelled night of star and moon Shall watch our bridal chamber, Bending the blue rays to the tune Of softly-sliding amber.
Dim winds shall whisper echoes of Our slow ecstatic breath, Telling all worlds how sweet is love, How beautiful is death.
medea. Sing, Orpheus, this doth madden them the most. Should one man leap—This tune is terrible!
orpheus. I am not moved, although I am a man. So strong a safeguard is cool chastity.
medea. But love thou me! My husband is distraught.
orpheus. Madness is on him for thy punishment.
medea. Sing, therefore!
orpheus. This last song of theirs was sweet.
medea. Thine therefore should be sweeter.
orpheus. The Gods grant it!
Lift up this love of peace and bliss, The starry soul of wine, Destruction’s formidable kiss, The lamp of the divine: This shadow of a nobler name Whose life is strife, whose soul is fame!
I rather will exalt the soul Of man to loftier height, And kindle at a livelier coal The subtler soul of Light. From these soft splendours of a dream I turn, and seek the Self supreme.
This world is shadow-shapen of The bitterness of pain. Vain are the little lamps of love! The light of life is vain! Life, death, joy, sorrow, age and youth Are phantoms of a further truth.
Beyond the splendour of the world, False glittering of the gold, A Serpent is in slumber curled In wisdom’s sacred cold. Life is the flaming of that flame. Death is the naming of that name.
The forehead of the snake is bright With one immortal star, Lighting her coils with living light To where the nenuphar Sleeps for her couch. All darkness dreams The thing that is not, only seems.
That star upon the serpent’s head Is called the soul of man; That light in shadows subtly shed The glamour of life’s plan. The sea whereon that lotus grows Is thought’s abyss of tears and woes.
Leave Sirenusa! Even Greece Forget! they are not there! By worship cometh not the Peace, The Silence not by prayer! Leave the illusions, life and time And death, and seek that star sublime—
Until the lotus and the sea And snake no longer are, And single through eternity Exists alone the Star, And utter Knowledge rise and cease In that which is beyond the Peace!
jason. Those isles have faded: was this vision true?
heracles. I know not what hath passed: I seem asleep Still, with the dream yet racing in my brain.
theseuss. There was a sweetness: whether sight or song I know not.
jason. But my veins grew strong and swollen And madness came upon me.
medea. You are here, Let that suffice. Remember not!
orpheus. But now I see the haze lift on the water-way, And hidden headlands loom again.
jason. I know The pleasant portals.
chorus. Here is home at last.
orpheus. The sunset comes: the mist is lifted now To let the last kiss of the daylight fall Once ere night whisper “Sleep”
jason. And see! the ship Glides between walls of purple.
medea. The green land Cools the tired eyes.
chorus. The rocks stand sentinel.
medea. Let still the song that saved us gladden us. Lift up thy lyre, sweet Orpheus, on the sea.
orpheus. Over a sea like stainéd glass At sunset like chrysopras:— Our smooth-oared vessel over-rides Crimson and green and purple tides. Between the rocky isles we pass, And greener islets gay with grass; Between the over-arching sides Our pinnace glides.
Just by the Maenad-haunted hill Songs rise into the air, and thrill, Like clustered birds at evening When love outlingers rain and spring. Faint faces of strange dancers spill Their dewy scent; and sweet and chill The wind comes faintly whispering On wanton wing.
Between the islands sheer and steep Our craft treads noiseless o’er the deep, Turned to the gold heart of the west, The sun’s last sigh of love expressed Ere the lake glimmer, borrow sleep From clouds and tinge their edges; weep That night brings love not to his breast, But only rest.
We move toward the golden track Shed in the water: we look back Eastward, where rose is set to warn Promise and prophecy of dawn Reflected, lest the ocean lack In any space serene or slack Some colour, blushing o’er the fawn Dim-lighted lawn.
And under all the shadowy shapes Of steep and silent bays and capes The water takes its darkest hue; Catches no laughter from the blue; No purple ray or gold escapes, But dim green shadow comes and drapes Its luster: thus the night burns through Tall groves of yew.
Thither, ah thither! Hollow vales Trembling with early nightingales! Languish, O sea of sleep! Young moon! Dream on above in maiden swoon! None daring to invoke the gales To shake our sea, and swell our sails. Not song, but silence, were a boon— Save for this tune.
Round capes grown darker as night falls, We see at last the splendid walls That ridge the bay; the town lies there Lighted (the temple’s hour for prayer) At grave harmonious intervals. The grand voice of some seaman calls, Just as the picture fades, aware How it was fair.
jason. A thousand victories bring us to the shore Whence we set out: look forth! The people come Moving with lights about the anchorage To greet the heroes of the Golden Fleece. My Queen! Medea! Welcome unto Greece!
EXPLICIT ACTUS QUARTUS.
ARGONAUTAE
ACTUS QUINTUS
ARES
ARES.
To
Common Sense
and to the
Qabalists Clergymen Peers Alchemists Subalterns Sorcerors Thieves Necromancers Missionaries Lunatics Doctors and Rosicrucians Prostitutes
among whom I have lived (being in England)
on
The Occasion
of
my going away
ARGONAUTAE.
ACTUS QUINTUS
Jason, Medea, Pelias, Acastus, Alcestis and her Sisters, Madness
Scene: The Palace at Iolchus.
madness. Black Ares hath called Me forth from the deep! Blind and appalled, Shall the palace high-walled Shake as I leap Over the granite, The marble over, One step to span it, One flight to hover, Like a moon round a planet, A dream round a lover!
How shall I come? Shrieking and yelling? Or quiet and dumb To the heart of the dwelling? Silently striding, Whispering terror Into their ears; Watching, abiding, Madness and error, Brooder of fears!
Thus will I bring Black Ares to honour, Draw the black sting Of the serpent upon her! How foolish to fight With the warrior God Who brings victory bright Or defeat with a nod, Who standeth to smite With a spear and a rod! Here is the woman, Thinking no evil, Wielding the human By might of a devil! But I will mock her With cunning design, In my malice lock her. The doom is divine!
medea. Ai! Ai! This rankles sorely in my mind That Pelias should wander, free to slide His sidelong looks among our courtiers Ripe ever for some mischief. Yet methinks There is a wandering other than this present— Say, by the Stygian waves, unburied corpse!— But, for the means? It ill befits our power And grace—my husband’s honour—to stretch forth The arm of murder o’er the head of age. But surely must be means—
Madness. The prophecy!
medea. Happy my thought be! I have found it. Ha! “Athena shall relent not till the king Shall die and live.” Vainly the prophet meant Mere transference of the crown. I’ll twist his saying To daze the children—fools they are! So mask Evil beneath the waxen face of Good, Trick out Calamity in robes of Luck— Come, children! Is the sun bright? And your eyes?
alcestis. Dear queen, all’s well with us. Such happiness Crowds daylight—even sleep seems sorrowful, Though bright with dainty dreams!
first danaid. But you are sad!
medea. I meditate the ancient prophecy. Thus a foreboding is upon my heart, Seeing some danger follow yet, o’erhang Our heads, poised gaily in incertitude!
second danaid. Nay, grieve not, dear Medea! All men say The prophecy is well fulfilled.
medea. Ay me! “Until the king shall die and live again.”
alcestis. What means that?
medea. I have meditated long.
second danaid. To what sad end?
medea. At the full end I see Allusion to my magic—to that spell Whereby an old man may renew his youth.
alcestis. Our father!
medea. You have guessed aright, my child. Your father must abandon his old age And—by my magic—find sweet youth again!
danaids. But this is very difficult to do.
medea. For me such miracles are merely play, Serving to while away the idle hours While Jason hunts—
alcestis. How grand it were to see Our aged father rival the strong youths In feats of great agility!
medea. Agreed! But surely you should work the charm yourselves. For children magic is a blithesome game!
danaids. Dear lady! teach us how to say the spell!
medea. Words must be aided by appalling deeds!
alcestis. O! O! you frighten us.
medea. Be brave, my child! I too passed through unutterable things!
alcestis. Let me fetch father!
medea. Nay, consider first. Would he consent? The process is severe!
danaids. We know the sire is not exactly brave, Though very wise and good.
’Tis clear to me; Without his knowledge we must do the deed.
alcestis. What is this “deed”?
medea. A caldron is prepared; And, having hewn your father limb from limb, We seethe him in a broth of magic herbs.
alcestis. And then?
medea. The proper incantations said, There rises from the steam a youthful shape More godlike than like man. And he will fall In kind embraces on his children’s necks.
alcestis. O queen, this process seems indeed severe.
medea. Without his knowledge must the thing be done.
danaids. This also seems to us no easy task.
medea. He sleeps through noon, while others are abroad.
alcestis. Let us make haste! Dear queen, how good you are!
medea. One thing remember! While you say the spell— Here is the parchment!—let no thought arise In any of your minds!
alcestis. [To her Sisters.] Remember that!
medea. Else—Ototototoi
first danaid. What woe is this?
medea. The charm is broken.
second danaid. And our father—
medea. Lost!
danaids. Ai Ai! Ai Ai! Ai Ai!
medea. Ai Ai! Ai Ai!
alcestis. Be brave, dear sisters, pluck your courage up! Easy this one condition! All is safe.
medea. Haste then! Good luck attend you! When the hunt Returns, how joyful—
first danaid. Striding vigorous, The man renewed grasps Jason in embrace Worthy of Heracles.
alcestis. Thanks, thanks, dear queen! We go, we go!
medea. The Goddess be your speed! Thus will the danger pass! That vicious fool Shall cease his plots against my best beloved. No taint of fell complicity shall touch My honour in this matter. I will sleep Through the delicious hours of breezy noon, Lulled by sweet voices of my singing maids; Secure at least that no one will attempt To wreck my virtue or—restore my youth!
chorus. O sleep of lazy love, be near In dreams to lift the veil, And silence from the shadowy sphere To conjure in our lady’s ear!— The voices fall and fail; The light is lowered. O dim sleep, Over her eyelids creep!
The world of dreams is shapen fair Beyond a mortal’s nod: A fragrant and a sunny air Smiles: a man’s kisses vanish there, Grow kisses of a god; And in dreams’ darkness subtly grows No Earth-flowered bloom of rose.
O dreams of love and peace, draw nigh! Hover with shadowy wings! Let shining shapes of ecstasy Cover the frail blue veil of sky, And speak immortal things! Dream, lady, dream through summer noon, Lulled by the sleepy tune!
The sense is riven, and the soul Goes glimmering to the abode, Where aeons in one moment roll, And one thought shapes to its control Body’s forgotten load. Our lady sleeps! Our lady smiles In far Elysian isles!
first woman. Thrice Have I crept towards the bed, and thrice An unseen hand has caught the uplifted knife, A grinning face lurked out from the blank air Between me and that filthy sorceress.
second woman. Daily I poison the she-devil’s drink, An nothing harms her!
third woman. I have a toad whose breath Destroys all life—
chorus. Thou dealest in such arts?
third woman. Ay! for this hate’s sake. Are we sisters all Herein?
chorus. True sisters!
third woman. The familiar soul Sucks at her mouth—She sickens not nor dies; More poisonous than he.
first woman. Ah! beast of hell! What may avail us?
second woman. Jason is quite lost In her black sorceries.
fourth woman. Our chance gone!
first woman. Our life Degraded to her service.
second woman. We, who are Born nobly, are become her minions.
third woman. Slaves, not handmaidens!
alcestis. Ototototoi! Ai Ai! What misery!
first woman. See! the lady weeps!
alcestis. Ai Ai! the black fiend, how he dogs my feet! The fatal day! Ai! Ai!
chorus. What sorrow thus, Maiden, removes the feet of fortitude?
alcestis. Who shall arouse him?
chorus. Peace, our lady sleeps.
alcestis. Ah me! but she must wake! A black, black deed Hangs on the house.
medea. What meets my waking ear? Alcestis!
alcestis. Ah, dear queen, lament, lament! I am undone by my own—
medea. What! the work?
alcestis. Alas! Alas! the work!
medea. Thy father?
alcestis. Slain
chorus. Ai Ai! the old man slain!
medea. Ai Ai!
alcestis. Ai Ai!
medea. The strong spell broken?
alcestis. Nay, but thoughts arose, So many thoughts—or ever I was ware— And he—the caldron seethes—
medea. He rises not?
alcestis. Nought but moist smoke springs up.
medea. Alas! for me! All is but lost.
alcestis. Canst thou do anything?
medea. Nothing. Ai Ai!
alcestis. Ai Ai!
chorus. Ai Ai! Ai Ai!
jason. What! Shall the hunter find his joy abroad, And sorrow in his house?
medea. Thy very hearth Polluted with the old man’s blood!
acastus. What blood? Answer me, woman!
medea. To thy knees, false hound, Fawning to snap!
acastus. What misery, pale slaves, Lament ye?
chorus. Ah! the ill omen! Ah, the day! Alcestis hath her sire in error slain.
acastus. Sister!
alcestis. O brother, bear thine anger back!
acastus. Speak!
alcestis. Ah, the prophecy! Ai Ai!
chorus. Ai Ai!
acastus. What folly masks what wickedness? Speak on!
alcestis. I cannot speak.
jason. Speak thou, Medea!
medea. The child Hath hewn her sire asunder, seething him In herbs of sacred power.
acastus. By thy decree?
medea. Nay!
madness. Safer is it to admit to these Fools—charge the child with lack of fortune!
medea. Yea! I bade her take a waxen shape, carved well To look like the old man—
alcestis. Nay! nay! the Sire Himself we stole on sleeping—
chorus. Hewn apart! Ai Ai!
medea. I said not thus!
alcestis. I am so wild, Bewildered with these tears.
acastus. Enough of this! It is the malice of that sorceress Disguised - she well knows how.
chorus. Thus, thus it is! We know the witch’s cunning.
jason. Dogs and fools! For this ye die.
medea. Nobility and love Urge my own sanction to support the wife!
jason. I bade my queen prepare this spell. Disputes Your arrogance my kingship?
acastus. Ay, indeed! Now justice turns against thee, fickle jade As fortune. Mine is a boy’s arm, but I Advance against thee an impervious blade, And give thee in thy throat and teeth the lie!
jason. Boy’s bluster!
medea. Justice will be satisfied. It will be best to flee!
jason. But what is this? A sword? I scorn a sword. I scorn a boy. Let none suppose me fearful!
medea. Give not back!
medea. I will be finer far to go away As those disdaining aught but their own love.
medea. Ay! let us leave these folk’s ingratitude, My husband! in thy love alone I rest. This splendour and this toil alike resume Our life from the long honeymoon of love We wish at heart.
jason. To Corinth!
medea. Creon bears The name of favourable to suppliants.
acastus. How virtue tames these tameless ones! To-day I am indeed a man.
medea. Thou brainless boy! Thus, thus, and thus I smite thee on the cheek— Thus, thus I spit upon thy face. Out, dog!
semichorus i. His patience shows as something marvellous.
semichorus 2. Virtue takes insult from the fortuneless.
medea. The curse of Ares dog you into Hades! I have my reasons [doubtfully], ay, my reasons plain! Going, not forced.
chorus. Yet going—that is good!
jason. To Corinth! Bride of my own heart, Medea, Well hast thou put thy power off for the time Preferring love to pomp, and peace to revel—
medea. And the soft cushions of the moss-grown trees To royal pillows, and the moon’s young light To gaudy lamps of antique workmanship—
jason. And music of the birds to harps of gold Struck by unwilling fingers for gold coin.
medea. Come! lest the curse I call upon this house Eat us up also! May the red plague rot Their bones! I lift my voice and prophesy: The curse shall never leave this house of fear; But one by treachery shall slay another, And vengeance shall smite one, and one lay bare Her beasts in vain for love: until the house Perish in uttermost red ruin.
chorus. Bah! Speared wild-cats bravely spit!
jason. To Creon, come!
madness. Black Ares hath chosen Me wisely, to send A doom deep-frozen From now to the end. Never the curse Shall pass from the house, But gather a worse Hate for a spouse. The lovers are better Escaped from my toils Than these in the fetter Of the golden spoils.
Yet still lies a doom For the royal lovers. Time bears in her womb That darkness covers A terror, and waits The hour that is Fate’s.
The work is done. Let miracle inspire Iolchian voices to the holy hymn, Praise to black Ares, echo of this doom.
chorus. So fearful is the wrath divine, That once aroused it shall not sleep, Though prostrate slaves before the shrine Pray, praise, do sacrifice, and weep. Ten generations following past Shall not exhaust the curse at last.
From father unto son it flees, An awful heritage of woe. Wives feel its cancerous prodigies Invade their wombs; the children know The inexpiable word, exhaust Not by a tenfold holocaust.
Thus let mankind abase in fear Their hearts, nor sacrilege profane The awful slumber of the seer, The dread adytum of the fane; Nor gain the mockery of a fleece, Loosing reality of peace.
Hail to wild Ares! Men, rejoice That He can thus avenge his shrine! One solemn cadence of that voice Peal through the ages, shake the spine Of very Time, and plunge success False-winged into sure-foot distress!
Hail to black Ares! Warrior, hail! Thou glory of the shining sword! What proven armour may avail Against the vengeance of the Lord? Athena’s favour must withdraw Before the justice of thy law!
Hail to the Lord of glittering spears, The monarch of the mighty name, The Master of ten thousand Fears Whose sword is as a scarlet flame! Hail to black Ares! Wild and pale The echo answers me: All Hail!
explicit actus quintus.
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