In the long nights of Winter and his wind—
And Death, the woeful, guilty of your fall,
Crying that he has sinned.
MAYA
(Hiroshima, Japan, 1905)
With set sails vanishing and slow;
In the blue west the mountains hide
As visions that too soon will go.
The peasant peacefully wades on—
As in unfurrowed vales of sleep,
A phantom out of voidness drawn.
The crow with carrion in his beak.
Buddha within lifts not his eyes
In pity or reproval meek;
A respite from the blinding sun,
The old priest—dreaming painless how
Nirvana's calm will come when won.
The world of will," the spent East seems
Whispering in me, "And the call
Of Life is but a call of dreams."
SPIRIT OF RAIN
(Miyanoshita, Japan, 1905)
With all thy ghosts of mist about the mountain, lonely
As a gray train
Of souls newly discarnate seeking new life only!
Leading them thro' dim torii, up fane-ways onward
Till not in vain
They tremble upon the peaks and plunge rejoicing dawnward.
So would I lead my dead thoughts high and higher,
Till they regain
Birth and the beauty of a new life's fire.
THE NYMPH AND THE GOD
A broken reed in her hand,
The nymph whom an idle god had wed
And led from her maidenland.
Two notes would the bent reed blow,
The one was sorrow, the other love,
Enwove with a woman's woe.
And he at feasting forgot.
The gods, shall they be disquieted
By dread of a mortal's lot?
A SEA-GHOST
And furl your wings.
The bay is gray with the twilit spray
And the loud surf springs.
Of all the drowned,
Who know the woe of the wind and tow
Of the tides around.
And let them rest—
A son and one who was wed and one
Who went down unblest.
Now labour most.
The tomb has gloom, but O the doom
Of the drear sea-ghost!
Beneath the wave,
Forlorn—to warn of the tempest born,
And to save—to save!
For only so
Can peace release us and give us ease
Of our salty woe.
LAST SIGHT OF LAND
I look again and lo
Only a faint and shadow line
Of shore—I watch it go.
Back to the cliff's gray wraith.
Will it be so of all our thoughts
When we set sail on Death?
As lone we fare and fast?
Grief and the face we love in mist—
Then night and awe too vast?
O see, from the lost shore
Kindling and calling "Onward, you
Shall reach the Evermore!"
SILENCE
Is beauty never born,
Is light forgotten—left unstirred
Upon Creation's morn.
DAVID
CHARACTERS
| Saul | King of Israel. |
| Jonathan | Heir to the throne. |
| Ishui | His brother. |
| Samuel | The Prophet of Israel. |
| Abner | Captain of the Host of Israel. |
| Doeg | An Edomite; chief servant of Saul, and suitor for Michal. |
| Adriel | A Lord of Meholah, suitor for Merab. |
| David | A shepherd, secretly anointed King. |
| Abishai | A follower of David. |
| Abiathar | A priest and follower of David. |
| A Philistine Spy. | |
| Ahinoam | The Queen. |
| Merab | Daughters of Saul and Ahinoam. |
| Michal | |
| Miriam | A blind prophetess, and later the "Witch of Endor." |
| Judith | Timbrel-players of the King. |
| Leah | |
| Zilla | |
| Adah | Handmaiden to Merab. |
| A Chorus of Women. A Band of Priests. Followers of David. Soldiers of Saul. People of the Court, &c. |
DAVID
ACT I
Scene: A Hall of Judgment in the palace of Saul at Gibeah. The walls and pillars of cedar are richly carven—with serpents, pomegranates, and cherubim in gold. The floors are of bright marble; the throne of ivory hung with a lion's skin whose head is its footstool. On the right, by the throne, and on the left are doors to other portions of the palace; they are draped with woven curtains of purple and white. In the rear, which is open and supported on pillars, a porch crosses a court. Through the porch, on the environing hills, glow the camp-fires of the Philistines, the enemies of Israel. Lamps in the Hall burn low, and on the floor Judith, Leah and Zilla are reclining restively.
(She goes to the porch.)
I'll not soil mine with sullen fear all day
Because these Philistines press round. As well
Be wenches gathering grapes or wool! Come, Leah.
(She prepares to dance.)
(Sits down.)
Who, who, now? who, who is it? dog, fox, devil?
And fury in him, sallow, souring fury!
A jackal were his mate! Come, come, we'll plague him.
The joy of rousing men to jealousy!
Look as for silly visions and for dreams!
(They pose. Ishui entering sees them. Judith sighs.)
Prince Ishui!
Will tell us! he will tell us!
O, is he come? when, where?—quick, quick. And will
He pluck us ecstasies out of his harp,
Winning until we're wanton for him, mad,
And sigh and laugh and weep to the moon?
Chaff of the king!
David a king! how beauteous would he be!
Have you not heard? Yesterday in the camp,
Among war-old but fearful men, he offered
Kingly to meet Goliath—great Goliath!
(Thrust from him, she goes, dancing with Zilla and Leah.)
Bidden you here for vapours ... tho' they had
Substance as well for you!
Laughter against him?
It is this shepherd!
Flinging enchantment on the palace air
Till he impassions to him all who breathe.
Dream-bringing amethyst and weft of Ind,
To wed my sister, Merab?
And you, lost in the maze of her, fare on
Blindly and find no reason for it!
(Goes to curtain, draws out Adah.)
Unclench your hands.
Answer; I am not milky Jonathan,
Answer; and for the rest—You hear?
The shepherd David!
She is unkind; I will not spy for her
On Michal, and I'll tell her secrets all!
And David does not love her—and she raves.
(Makes to strike her.)
(Adah goes.)
I tell you that he stands athwart us all!
The heart of Merab swung as a censer to him,
My seat at table with the king usurped!
Mildew and mocking to the harp of Doeg
As it were any slave's; the while we all
Are lepered with suspicion.
(Enter Michal, passing, with Miriam.)
A prophetess.
The throne shall pass from him, and darkens more
Against this boundless Philistine Goliath
Who dares at Israel daily on the hills,
As we were dogs!
But he is sent for—and will ease him—Ah!
He's wonderful to heal the king with his harp!
A waft, a sunny leap of melody,
And swift the hovering mad shadow's gone—
As magic!
His waiting and the winning o'er of Edom,
You are enamoured of this David too?
(She goes, calmly, with Miriam.)
Or must this shepherd put upon us more?
With Samuel the prophet fast enshrouds
Some secret, and has Samuel not told
The kingdom from my father shall be rent
And fall unto one another?
(Voices are heard in altercation.)
With prophecy or some refusal tears him!
(They step aside. Saul, followed by Samuel, strides in and mounts the throne.)
Pour seething prophecy into my veins,
Till a simoon of madness in me moves.
Am I not king, the king? chosen and sealed?
Who've been anathema and have been bane
Unto the foes of Israel, and filled
The earth with death of them?
And do you still forbid that I bear gold
And bribe away this Philistine array
Folded about us, fettering with flame?
Do I forbid! A champion must rise
To level this Goliath. Thus may we
Loose on them pest of panic and of fear.
None will arise—'tis vain. And I'll not wait
On miracle.
Michal, thy fairest, to whoever shall.
Ever vexation! No; I will not.
Out of Jehovah and a vast foreseen
I tell thee again, thou perilous proud king,
The sceptre shall slip from thee to another!
(He moves to go.)
You rouse afar the billowing of ill.
I grant—go not!—I grovel to your will,
Fear it and fawn as to omnipotence,
(Snatching at Samuel's mantle.)
When shall arise one, and Goliath fall!
(Goes slowly out by the porch, Saul sinks back.)
And yet I must not speak; come, Adriel,
(As if going.)
Yet how it creeps, and how!
Goliath slain—the people mad with praise,
Then fallen from you—Michal the victor's wife....
Fear on the people—panic—the kingdom's ruin!
Ah, then, if one arise? If one arise?
Merely a little moment!—
Your David with him.
To this you lead me—hatred against David!
To this with supple envy's easy glide!
(To Abner, who enters.)
He is not come? Forever he delays!
(Remounts throne.)
(A harp is heard.)
Terrible Saul!
Vile on the hills shall he laugh who boasts
None is among
Great Israel's all
Fearless for Saul, King Saul!
(Entering with people of the palace.)
Galled of the sting,
Will at the soul of Goliath run?
Wring it and up
To his false gods fling?...
None for the king, the king?
(He drops to his knee, amid praise, before the throne.)
Away from him; 'tis overmuch.
I do not mock. Only the birds have wings.
Yet on the vales behind me I have left
Haste and a swirl, a wonderment of air,
And in the torrent's troubled vein amaze,
So swift I hurried hither at your urgence
Out of the fields and folding the far sheep!
(Comes down indeterminately.)
With sheeted passions like to lightning gusts.
(All have gone.)
(Slowly draws a dagger.)
Terrible fury stealing from the heart
And crouching cold within the eye, O Saul?
What is this ravage in you? Does the truth
So limpid overflow in palaces?
Never an enemy to venom it?
Am I not David, faithful, and thy friend?
Reed as I am, could he not breathe and break?
And I should be oblivion at a word!
But under the terror of his might have I
Not seen his heart beat justice and beat love?
See, even now!...
"This David," and "This David!"
I cannot overleap this destiny?
Deeper the future gulf is for our fears.
Forget it. Forget the brink may ever gape,
And wield the throne so well that God Himself
Must not unking you, more than He would cry
The morning star from Heaven! Then, I swear it,
None else will!
Foolishly from the heart; a shepherd speech!
Give them no mood; but see, see yonder fires
Camping upon the peace of Israel,
As we were carrion beneath the sun!
Let us conceive annihilation on them,
Hurricane rush and deluging and ruin.
It eats in me the food of rest and ease.
And David, nearer: Samuel in my stead
Another hath anointed.
This should not fall to me, my lord; no more!
You cannot understand; it pains beyond
All duty and enduring!
Who is he? know you of him? do you? know you?
You sup the confidence of Samuel?
I'll search from Nile to Nineveh——
Under and over, search—and find.
(Enter Michal joyously.)
All here is dark and quivering as pain,
And a foreboding binds me ere I breathe!
David, you have not been as sun to him!
Dawn and delight in you!
(She stands unaccountably moved.)
What does it mean? I cannot speak! It shrinks
Shivering down upon my heart in awe!
Can any moving in the world so bring
Terror upon you! Speak, what is it?
I know not; danger rising and its wing
Sudden against my lips!
There—now again flows joy: I think it flows.
Not much desired discovery of whom
Samuel hath anointed?
(David blenches.)
(Realises.)
(She stands horrified.)