Chorus.

O miserable man, hear now the worst.
O weak and tearful race,{38}
Born to unhappiness, see now thy cause
Doomed and accurst!

It surely were enough, the bad and good
Together mingled, against chance and ill
To strive, and prospering by turns,
Now these, now those, now folly and now skill,
Alike by means well understood 1180
Or 'gainst all likelihood;
Loveliness slaving to the unlovely will
That overrides the right and laughs at law.

But always all in awe
And imminent dread:
Because there is no mischief thought or said,
Imaginable or unguessed,
But it may come to be; nor home of rest,
Nor hour secure: but anywhere,
At any moment; in the air, 1190
Or on the earth or sea,
Or in the fair
And tender body itself it lurks, creeps in,
Or seizes suddenly,
Torturing, burning, withering, devouring,
Shaking, destroying; till tormented life
Sides with the slayer, not to be,
And from the cruel strife
Falls to fate overpowering.

Or if some patient heart, 1200
In toilsome steps of duty tread apart,
Thinking to win her peace within herself,
And thus awhile succeed:
She must see others bleed,
At others' misery moan,
And learn the common suffering is her own,
From which it is no freedom to be freed:{39}
Nay, Nature, her best nurse,
Is tender but to breed a finer sense,
Which she may easier wound, with smart the worse 1210
And torture more intense.

And no strength for thee but the thought of duty,
Nor any solace but the love of beauty.
O Right's toil unrewarded!
O Love's prize unaccorded!

I say this might suffice,
O tearful and unstable
And miserable man,
Were't but from day to day
Thy miserable lot, 1220
This might suffice, I say,
To term thee miserable.
But thou of all thine ills too must take thought,
Must grow familiar till no curse astound thee,
With tears recall the past,
With tears the times forecast;
With tears, with tears thou hast
The scapeless net spread in thy sight around thee.

How then support thy fate,
O miserable man, if this befall, 1230
That he who loves thee and would aid thee, daring
To raise an arm for thy deliverance,
Must for his courage suffer worse than all?

In. Bravest deliverer, for thy prophecy
Has torn the veil which hid thee from my eyes,
If thyself art that spirit, of whom some things
Were darkly spoken,—nor can I doubt thou art,
Being that the heaven its fire withholds not from thee
Nor time his secrets,—tell me now thy name,
That I may praise thee rightly; and my late 1240{40}
Unwitting words pardon thou, and these who still
In blinded wonder kneel not to thy love.

Pr. Speak not of love. See, I am moved with hate,
And fiercest anger, which will sometimes spur
The heart to extremity, till it forget
That there is any joy save furious war.
Nay, were there now another deed to do,
Which more could hurt our enemy than this,
Which here I stand to venture, here would I leave thee
Conspiring at his altar, and fly off 1250
To plunge the branding terror in his soul.
But now the rising passion of my will
Already jars his reaching sense, already
From heaven he bids his minion Hermes forth
To bring his only rebel to his feet.
Therefore no more delay, the time is short.

In. I take, I take. 'Tis but for thee to give.

Pr. O heavenly fire, life's life, the eye of day,
Whose nimble waves upon the starry night
Of boundless ether love to play, 1260
Carrying commands to every gliding sprite
To feed all things with colour, from the ray
Of thy bright-glancing, white
And silver-spinning light:
Unweaving its thin tissue for the bow
Of Iris, separating countless hues
Of various splendour for the grateful flowers
To crown the hasting hours,
Changing their special garlands as they choose.

O spirit of rage and might, 1270
Who canst unchain the links of winter stark,
And bid earth's stubborn metals flow like oil,
Her porphyrous heart-veins boil;
Whose arrows pierce the cloudy shields of dark;
Let now this flame, which did to life awaken{41}
Beyond the cold dew-gathering veils of morn,
And thence by me was taken,
And in this reed was borne,
A smothered theft and gift to man below,
Here with my breath revive, 1280
Restore thy lapsèd realm, and be the sire
Of many an earthly fire.

O flame, flame bright and live,
Appear upon the altar as I blow.

Chor. 'Twas in the marish reed.
See to his mouth he sets its hollow flute
And breathes therein with heed,
As one who from a pipe with breathings mute
Will music's voice evoke.—
See, the curl of a cloud. 1290

In. The smoke, the smoke!

Semichorus. Thin clouds mounting higher.

In. 'Tis smoke, the smoke of fire.

Semichorus. Thick they come and thicker,

Quick arise and quicker,
Higher still and higher.
Their wreaths the wood enfold.
—I see a spot of gold.
They spring from a spot of gold,
Red gold, deep among 1300
The leaves: a golden tongue.
O behold, behold,
Dancing tongues of gold,
That leaping aloft flicker,
Higher still and higher.

In. 'Tis fire, the flame of fire!

Semichorus. The blue smoke overhead
Is turned to angry red.
The fire, the fire, it stirs.
Hark, a crackling sound, 1310{42}
As when all around
Ripened pods of furze
Split in the parching sun
Their dry caps one by one,
And shed their seeds on the ground.
—Ah! what clouds arise.
Away! O come away.
The wind-wafted smoke,
Blowing all astray,
Blinds and pricks my eyes.
[Prometheus,
after writing his
name on the altar,
goes out
unobserved.] Ah! I choke, I choke.
—All the midst is rent:
See, the twigs are all
By the flaming spent
White and gold, and fall.
How they writhe, resist,
Blacken, flake, and twist,
Snap in gold and fall.
—See the stars that mount,
Momentary bright 1330
Flitting specks of light
More than eye can count.
Insects of the air,
As in summer night
Show a fire in flying
Flickering here and there,
Waving past and dying.
—Look, a common cone
Of the mountain pine
Solid gold is grown; 1340
Till its scales outshine,
Standing each alone
In the spiral rows
Of their fair design,
All the brightest shows
Of the sun's decline.{43}
—Hark, there came a hiss,
Like a startled snake
Sliding through the brake.
Oh, and what is this? 1350
Smaller flames that flee
Sidelong from the tree,
Hark, they hiss, they hiss.
—How the gay flames flicker,
Spurting, dancing, leaping
Quicker yet and quicker,
Higher yet and higher,
—Flaming, flaring, fuming,
Cracking, crackling, creeping,
Hissing and consuming: 1360
Mighty is the fire.
 

In. Stay, stay, cease your rejoicings. Where is he,
The prophet,—nay, what say I,—the god, the giver?

Chor. He is not here—he is gone.

In. Search, search around.
Search all, search well.

Chor. He is gone,—he is not here.

In. The palace gate lies open: go, Argeia,
Maybe he went within: go seek him there.

[Exit Ar.

Look down the sea road, down the country road:
Follow him if ye see him.

Chor. He is not there.

In. Strain, strain your eyes: look well: search everywhere.
Look townwards—is he there?

Part of Chorus returning. He is not there.— 1371

Other part returning. He is not there.

Argeia re-entering.

Ar. He is not there.

Chor. O see!

Chor. See where?{44}

Chor. See on the altar—see!

Chor. What see ye on the altar?

Chor. Here in front
Words newly writ.

Chor. What words?

Chor. A name—

In. Ay true—
There is the name. How like a child was I,
That I must wait till these dumb letters gave
The shape and soul to knowledge: when the god
Stood here so self-revealed to ears and eyes
That, 'tis a god I said, yet wavering still, 1380
Doubting what god,—and now, who else but he?
I knew him, yet not well; I knew him not:
Prometheus—ay, Prometheus. Know ye, my children,
This name we see was writ by him we seek.
'Tis his own name, his own heart-stirring name,
Feared and revered among the immortal gods;
Divine Prometheus: see how here the large
Cadmeian characters run, scoring out
The hated title of his ancient foe,—
To Zeus 'twas made,—and now 'tis to Prometheus— 1390
Writ with the charrèd reed—theft upon theft.
He hath stolen from Zeus his altar, and with his fire
Hath lit our sacrifice unto himself.
Ió Prometheus, friend and firegiver,
For good or ill thy thefts and gifts are ours.
We worshipped thee unknowing.

Chor. But now where is he?

In. No need to search—we shall not see him more.
We look in vain. The high gods when they choose
Put on and off the solid visible shape
Which more deceives our hasty sense, than when 1400
Seeing them not we judge they stand aloof.
And he, he now is gone; his work is done:
'Tis ours to see it be not done in vain.{45}

Chor. What is to do? speak, bid, command, we fly.

In. Go some and fetch more wood to feed the fire;
And some into the city to proclaim
That fire is ours: and send out messengers
To Corinth, Sicyon, Megara and Athens
And to Mycenæ, telling we have fire:
And bid that in the temples they prepare 1410
Their altars, and send hither careful men
To learn of me what things the time requires.

[Exit part of Chorus.

The rest remain to end our feast; and now
Seeing this altar is no more to Zeus,
But shall for ever be with smouldering heat
Fed for the god who first set fire thereon,
Change ye your hymns, which in the praise of Zeus
Ye came to sing, and change the prayer for fire
Which ye were wont to raise, to high thanksgiving,
Praising aloud the giver and his gift. 1420
 

Part of Chorus. Now our happy feast hath ending,
While the sun in heaven descending
Sees us gathered round a light
Born to cheer his vacant night.
Praising him to-day who came
Bearing far his heavenly flame:
Came to crown our king's desire
With his gift of golden fire.

Semichorus. My heart, my heart is freed.
Now can I sing. I loose a shaft from my bow, 1430
A song from my heart to heaven, and watch it speed.
It revels in the air, and straight to its goal doth go.
I have no fear. I praise distinguishing duly:
I praise the love that I love and I worship truly.
Goodness I praise, not might,
Nor more will I speak of wrong,{46}
But of lovingkindness and right;
And the god of my love shall rejoice at the sound of my song.
I praise him whom I have seen:
As a man he is beautiful, blending prime and youth, 1440
Of gentle and lovely mien,
With the step and the eyes of truth,
As a god,—O were I a god, but thus to be man!
As a god, I set him above
The rest of the gods; for his gifts are pledges of love,
The words of his mouth rare and precious,
His eyes' glance and the smile of his lips are love.
He is the one
Alone of all the gods,
Of righteous Themis the lofty-spirited son, 1450
Who hates the wrongs they have done.
He is the one I adore.
For if there be love in heaven with evil to cope,—
And he promised us more and more,—
For what may we not hope?

ODE.

My soul is drunk with joy, her new desire
In far forbidden places wanders away.
Her hopes with free bright-coloured wings of fire
Upon the gloom of thought
Are sailing out. 1460
Awhile they rise, awhile to rest they softly fall,
Like butterflies, that flit
Across the mountains, or upon a wall
Winking their idle fans at pleasure sit.

O my vague desires!
Ye lambent flames of the soul, her offspring fires:
That are my soul herself in pangs sublime
Rising and flying to heaven before her time:{47}
What doth tempt you forth
To melt in the south or shiver in the frosty north? 1470
What seek ye or find ye in your random flying,
For ever soaring aloft, soaring and dying?
Joy, the joy of flight;
They hide in the sun, they flare and dance in the night.
Gone up, gone out of sight—and ever again
Follow fresh tongues of fire, fresh pangs of pain.
Ah! could I control
These vague desires, these leaping flames of the soul:
Could I but quench the fire, ah! could I stay
My soul that flieth, alas, and dieth away! 1480

[Enter other part of Chorus.

Part of Chor. Here is wood to feed the fire—
Never let its flames expire.
Sing ye still while we advance
Round the fire in measured dance,
While the sun in heaven descending
Sees our happy feast have ending.
Weave ye still your joyous song,
While we bear the wood along.

Semichorus. But O return,
Return, thou flower of the gods! 1490
Remember the limbs that toil and the hearts that yearn,
Remember, and soon return!
To prosper with peace and skill
Our hands in the works of pleasure, beauty and use.
Return, and be for us still
Our shield from the anger of Zeus.
And he, if he raise his arm in anger to smite thee,
And think for the good thou hast done with pain to requite thee,
Vengeance I heard thee tell,
And the curse I take for my own, 1500
That his place is prepared in hell,{48}
And a greater than he shall hurl him down from his throne
Down, down from his throne!
For the god who shall rule mankind from the deathless skies
By mercy and truth shall be known,
In love and peace shall arise.
For him,—if again I hear him thunder above,
O then, if I crouch or start,
I will press thy lovingkindness more to my heart,
Remember the words of thy mouth rare and precious, 1510
Thy heart of hearts and gifts of divine love.

{49}

DEMETER

A Mask

"Dreams & the light imaginings of men"




Written for the ladies at
Somerville College
& acted by them
at the inauguration of their new building
in 1904


PREVIOUS EDITION

Oxford: at the Clarendon Press, 1905

{50}

ARGUMENT OF THE PLAY

The scene is in the flowery valley below Enna. Hades prologizes, and tells how he has come with consent of Zeus to carry off Persephone to be his queen. The Chorus of Ocean nymphs entering praise Sicily and the spring. Persephone enters with Athena and Artemis to gather flowers for the festival of Zeus. Persephone being left alone is carried off by Hades.

In the second act, which is ten days later, the Chorus deplore the loss of Persephone. Demeter entering upbraids them in a choric scene and describes her search for Persephone until she learnt her fate from Helios. Afterwards she describes her plan for compelling Zeus to restore her. Hermes brings from Zens a command to Demeter that she shall return to Olympus. She sends defiance to Zeus, and the Chorus end the scene by vowing to win Poseidon to aid Demeter.

In the third act, which is a year later, the Chorus, who have been summoned by Demeter to witness the restoration of Persephone, lament Demeter's anger. Demeter narrates the Eleusinian episode of her wanderings, until Hermes enters leading Persephone. After their greeting Demeter hears from Hermes the terms of Persephone's restoration; she is reconciled thereto by Persephone, and invites her to Eleusis. The Chorus sing and crown Persephone with flowers.



DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
HADES.
DEMETER. 		}      ARTEMIS.
     HERMES. 		}
PERSEPHONE.
ATHENA. 		       Chorus of
OCEANIDES.

{51}

DEMETER

HADES.

I am the King of Hell, nor prone to vex
Eternal destiny with weak complaint;
Nor when I took my kingdom did I mourn
My lot, from heav'n expell'd, deny'd to enjoy
Its radiant revelry and ambrosial feast,
Nor blamed our mighty Sisters, that not one
Would share my empire in the shades of night.
But when a younger race of gods arose,
And Zeus set many sons on heav'nly seats,
And many daughters dower'd with new domain, 10
And year by year were multiply'd on earth
Their temples and their statu'd sanctities,
Mirrors of man's ideas that grow apace,
Yea, since man's mind was one with my desire
That Hell should have a queen,—for heav'n hath queens
Many, nor on all earth reigns any king
In unkind isolation like to me,—
I claimed from Zeus that of the fair immortals
One should be given to me to grace my throne.
Willing he was, and quick to praise my rule, 20
And of mere justice there had granted me
Whome'er I chose: but 'Brother mine,' he said,
'Great as my power among the gods, this thing
I cannot compass, that a child of mine,
Who once hath tasted of celestial life,
Should all forgo, and destitute of bliss
Descend into the shades, albeit to sit
An equal on thy throne. Take whom thou wilt;{52}
But by triumphant force persuade, as erst
I conquer'd heav'n.' Said I 'My heart is set: 30
I take Demeter's child Persephone;
Dost thou consent?' Whereto he gave his nod.
And I am come to-day with hidden powers,
Ev'n unto Enna's fair Sicilian field,
To rob her from the earth. 'Tis here she wanders
With all her train: nor is this flow'ry vale
Fairer among the fairest vales of earth,
Nor any flower within this flow'ry vale
Fair above other flowers, as she is fairest
Among immortal goddesses, the daughter 40
Of gentle-eyed Demeter; and her passion
Is for the flowers, and every tenderness
That I have long'd for in my fierce abodes.
But she hath always in attendant guard
The dancing nymphs of Ocean, and to-day
The wise Athena and chaste Artemis
Indulge her girlish fancy, gathering flowers
To deck the banner of my golden brother,
Whose thought they guess not, tho' their presence here
Affront his will and mine. If once alone 50
I spy her, I can snatch her swiftly down:
And after shall find favour for my fault,
When I by gentle means have won her love.
I hear their music now. Hither they come:
I'll to my ambush in the rocky cave. [Exit.

{53}



ACT I

Enter Chorus of Oceanides, with baskets.

OCEANIDES.

Gay and lovely is earth, man's decorate dwelling;
With fresh beauty ever varying hour to hour.
As now bathed in azure joy she awakeneth
With bright morn to the sun's life-giving effluence,
Or sunk into solemn darkness aneath the stars 60
In mysterious awe slumbereth out the night,
Then from darkness again plunging again to day;
Like dolphins in a swift herd that accompany
Poseidon's chariot when he rebukes the waves.
But no country to me 'neath the enarching air
Is fair as Sicily's flowery fruitful isle:
Always lovely, whether winter adorn the hills
With his silvery snow, or generous summer
Outpour her heavy gold on the river-valleys.
Her rare beauty giveth gaiety unto man, 70
A delite dear to immortals.

2

And one season of all chiefly deliteth us,
When fair Spring is afield. O happy is the Spring!
Now birds early arouse their pretty minstreling;
Now down its rocky hill murmureth ev'ry rill;
Now all bursteth anew, wantoning in the dew
Their bells of bonny blue, their chalices honey'd.
Unkind frost is away; now sunny is the day;
Now man thinketh aright, Life it is all delite.
Now maids playfully dance o'er enamel'd meadows, 80
And with goldy blossom deck forehead and bosom;
While old Pan rollicketh thro' the budding shadows,
Voicing his merry reed, laughing aloud to lead
The echoes madly rejoicing.

{54}

3

We be Oceanids, Persephone's lovers,
Who all came hurrying joyfully from the sea
Ere daybreak to obey her belovëd summons.
At her fancy to pluck these violets, lilies,
Windflow'rs and daffodils, all for a festival
Whereat shé will adorn Zeuses honour'd banner. 90
And with Persephone there cometh Artemis
And grave Pallas ... Hilloo! Already they approach!
Haste, haste! Stoop to gather! Seem busy ev'ryone!
Crowd all your wicker arcs with the meadow-lilies;
Lest our disreverenc'd deity should rebuke
The divine children of Ocean.

[Enter Athena, Persephone, and Artemis. Persephone has a basket half fill'd with gather'd flowers.]

ATHENA.

These then are Enna's flowery fields, and here
In midmost isle the garden of thy choice?
 

PERSEPHONE.

Is not all as I promist? Feel ye not
Your earthborn ecstasy concenter'd here? 100
Tell me, Athena, of thy wisdom, whénce
Cometh this joy of earth, this penetrant
Palpitant exultation so unlike
The balanc't calm of high Olympian state?
Is't in the air, the tinted atmosphere
Whose gauzy veil, thrown on the hills, will paint
Their features, changing with the gradual day,
Rosy or azure, clouded now, and now
Again afire? Or is it that the sun's
Electric beams—which shot in circling fans 110
Whirl all things with them—as they strike the earth
Excite her yearning heart, till stir'd beneath{55}
The rocks and silent plains, she cannot hold
Her fond desires, but sends them bursting forth
In scents and colour'd blossoms of the spring?—
Breathes it not in the flowers?

Ath. Fair are the flowers,
Dear child; and yet to me far lovelier
Than all their beauty is thy love for them.
Whate'er I love, I contemplate my love
More than the object, and am so rejoic'd. 120
For life is one, and like a level sea
Life's flood of joy. Thou wond'rest at the flowers,
But I would teach thee wonder of thy wonder;
Would shew thee beauty in the desert-sand,
The worth of things unreckt of, and the truth
That thy desire and love may spring of evil
And ugliness, and that Earth's ecstasy
May dwell in darkness also, in sorrow and tears.

Per. I'd not believe it: why then should we pluck
The flowers and not the stalks without the flowers? 130
Or do thy stones breathe scent? Would not men laugh
To see the banner of almighty Zeus
Adorn'd with ragged roots and straws?—Dear Artemis,
How lovest thou the flowers?

ARTEMIS.

I'll love them better
Ever for thy sake, Cora; but for me
The joy of Earth is in the breath of life
And animal motions: nor are flowery sweets
Dear as the scent of life. His petal'd cup,
What is it by the wild fawn's liquid eye
Eloquent as love-music 'neath the moon? 140
Nay, not a flower in all thy garden here,
Nor wer't a thousand-thousand-fold enhanc't
In every charm, but thou wouldst turn from it
To view the antler'd stag, that in the glade{56}
With the coy gaze of his majestic fear
Faced thee a moment ere he turn'd to fly.

Per. But why, then, hunt and kill what thou so lovest?

Ar. Dost thou not pluck thy flowers?

Per. 'Tis not the same.
Thy victims fly for life: they pant, they scream.

Ar. Were they not mortal, sweet, I coud not kill them.
They kill each other in their lust for life; 151
Nay, cruelly persecute their blemisht kin:
And they that thus are exiled from the herd
Slink heart-brok'n to sepulchral solitudes,
Defenceless and dishonour'd; there to fall
Prey to the hungry glutton of the cave,
Or stand in mute pain lingering, till they drop
In their last lair upon the ancestral bones.

Per. What is it that offends me?

Ath. 'Tis Pity, child,
The mortal thought that clouds the brow of man 160
With dark reserve, or poisoning all delite
Drives him upon his knees in tearful prayer
To avert his momentary qualms: till Zeus
At his reiterated plaint grows wrath,
And burdens with fresh curse the curse of care.
And they that haunt with men are apt to take
Infection of his mind: thy mighty mother
Leans to his tenderness.

Per. How should man, dwelling
On earth that is so gay, himself be sad?
Is not earth gay? Look on the sea, the sky, 170
The flowers!

Ath. 'Tis sad to him because 'tis gay.—
For whether he consider how the flowers,
—Thy miracles of beauty above praise,—
Are wither'd in the moment of their glory,
So that of all the mounting summer's wealth
The show is chang'd each day, and each day dies,{57}
Of no more count in Nature's estimate
Than crowded bubbles of the fighting foam:
Or whether 'tis the sea, whose azure waves
Play'd in the same infinity of motion 180
Ages ere he beheld it, and will play
For ages after him;—alike 'tis sad
To read how beauty dies and he must die.

Per. Were I a man, I would not worship thee,
Thou cold essential wisdom. If, as thou say'st,
Thought makes men sorrowful, why help his thought
To quench enjoyment, who might else as I
Revel among bright things, and feast his sense
With beauty well-discern'd? Nay, why came ye
To share my pastime? Ye love not the flowers. 190

Ath. Indeed I love thee, child; and love thy flowers,—
Nor less for loving wisely. All emotions,
Whether of gods or men, all loves and passions,
Are of two kinds; they are either inform'd by wisdom,
To reason obedient,—or they are unconducted,
Flames of the burning life. The brutes of earth
And Pan their master know these last; the first
Are seen in me: betwixt the extremes there lie
Innumerable alloys and all of evil.

Per. Nay, and I guess your purpose with me well: 200
I am a child, and ye would nurse me up
A pupil in your school. I know ye twain
Of all the immortals are at one in this;
Ye wage of cold disdain a bitter feud
With Aphrodite, and ye fear for me,
Lest she should draw me to her wanton way.
Fear not: my party is taken. Hark! I'll tell
What I have chosen, what mankind shall hold
Devote and consecrate to me on earth:
It is the flowers: but only among the flowers 210
Those that men love for beauty, scent, or hue,
Having no other uses: I have found{58}
Demeter, my good mother, heeds them not.—
She loves vines, olives, orchards, 'the rich leas
Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and peas,[1]
But for the idle flowers she hath little care:
She will resign them willingly. And think not,
Thou wise Athena, I shall go unhonour'd,
Or rank a meaner goddess unto man.
His spirit setteth beauty before wisdom, 220
Pleasures above necessities, and thus
He ever adoreth flowers. Nor this I guess
Where rich men only and superfluous kings
Around their palaces reform the land
To terraces and level lawns, whereon
Appointed slaves are told, to tend and feed
Lilies and roses and all rarest plants
Fetch'd from all lands; that they—these lordly men—
'Twixt flaunting avenues and wafted odours
May pace in indolence: this is their bliss; 230
This first they do: and after, it may be,
Within their garden set their academe:—
But in the poorest villages, around
The meanest cottage, where no other solace
Comforts the eye, some simple gaiety
Of flowers in tended garden is seen; some pinks,
Tulips, or crocuses that edge the path;
Where oft at eve the grateful labourer
Sits in his jasmin'd porch, and takes the sun:
And even the children, that half-naked go, 240
Have posies in their hands, and of themselves
Will choose a queen in whom to honour Spring,
Dancing before her garlanded with may.
The cowslip makes them truant, they forget
The hour of hunger and their homely feast
So they may cull the delicate primrose,
Sealing their birthright with the touch of beauty;
With unconsider'd hecatombs assuring{59}
Their dim sense of immortal mystery.—
Yea, rich and poor, from cradle unto grave 250
All men shall love me, shall adore my name,
And heap my everlasting shrine with flowers.

Ath. Thou sayest rightly thou art a child. May Zeus
Give thee a better province than thy thought.

[Music heard.

Ar. Listen! The nymphs are dancing. Let us go!

[They move off.

Come, Cora; wilt thou learn a hunting dance?
I'll teach thee.

Per. Can I learn thy hunter-step
Without thy bare legs and well-buskin'd feet?

Ar. Give me thy hand.

Per. Stay! stay! I have left my flowers.
I follow.

[Exeunt Athena and Artemis.

[Persephone returning to right slowly.

They understand not—Now, praise be to Zeus, 261
That, tho' I sprang not from his head, I know
Something that Pallas knows not.

[She has come to where her basket lies. In stooping towards it she kneels to pluck a flower: and then comes to sit on a bank with the basket in hand on her knees, facing the audience.]

Thou tiny flower!
Art thou not wise?
Who taught thee else, thou frail anemone,
Thy starry notion, thy wind-wavering motion,
Thy complex of chaste beauty, unimagin'd
Till thou art seen?—And how so wisely, thou,
Indifferent to the number of thy rays, 270
While others are so strict? This six-leaved tulip,
—He would not risk a seventh for all his worth,—
He thought to attain unique magnificence
By sheer simplicity—a pointed oval
Bare on a stalk erect: and yet, grown old
He will his young idea quite abandon,{60}
In his dishevel'd fury wantoning
Beyond belief.... Some are four-leaved: this poppy
Will have but four. He, like a hurried thief,
Stuffs his rich silks into too small a bag— 280
I think he watch'd a summer-butterfly
Creep out all crumpled from his winter-case,
Trusting the sun to smooth his tender tissue
And sleek the velvet of his painted wings:—
And so doth he.—Between such different schemes,
Such widely varied loveliness, how choose?
Yet loving all, one should be most belov'd,
Most intimately mine; to mortal men
My emblem: tho' I never find in one
The sum of all distinctions.—Rose were best: 290
But she is passion's darling, and unkind
To handle—set her by.—Choosing for odour,
The violet were mine—men call her modest,
Because she hides, and when in company
Lacks manner and the assertive style of worth:—
While this narcissus here scorns modesty,
Will stand up what she is, tho' something prim:
Her scent, a saturation of one tone,
Like her plain symmetry, leaves nought to fancy:—
Whereas this iris,—she outvieth man's 300
Excellent artistry; elaboration
Confounded with simplicity, till none
Can tell which sprang of which. Coud I but find
A scented iris, I should be content:
Yet men would call me proud: Iris is Pride.—
To-day I'll favour thee, sweet violet;
Thou canst live in my bosom. I'll not wrong thee
Wearing thee in Olympus.—Help! help! Ay me!

[Persephone rises to her feet, and amidst a contrivance of confused darkness Hades is seen rushing from behind. He seizes her and drags her backward. Her basket is thrown up and the flowers scattered.]

ACT II

CHORUS.

I (α)
 
Bright day succeedeth unto day—
Night to pensive night— 310
With his towering ray
Of all-fathering light—
With the solemn trance
Of her starry dance.—

Nought is new or strange
In the eternal change.—

As the light clouds fly
O'er the tree-tops high,
So the days go by.—

Ripples that arrive 320
On the sunny shore,
Dying to their live
Music evermore.—

Like pearls on a thread,—
Like notes of a song,—
Like the measur'd tread
Of a dancing throng.—

(β)
 
Ocëanides are we,
Nereids of the foam,
But we left the sea 330
On the earth to roam
With the fairest Queen
That the world hath seen.—{62}
Why amidst our play
Was she sped away?—

Over hill and plain
We have sought in vain;
She comes not again.—

Not the Naiads knew
On their dewy lawns:— 340
Not the laughing crew
Of the leaping Fauns.—

Now, since she is gone,
All our dance is slow,
All our joy is done,
And our song is woe.—

II
 
Saw ye the mighty Mother, where she went
Searching the land?
Nor night nor day resting from her lament,
With smoky torch in hand. 350
Her godhead in the passion of a sorrow spent
Which not her mind coud suffer, nor heart withstand?—

2
 
Enlanguor'd like a fasting lioness,
That prowls around
Robb'd of her whelps, in fury comfortless
Until her lost be found:
Implacable and terrible in her wild distress;
And thro' the affrighted country her roars resound.—

3
 
But lo! what form is there? Thine eyes awaken!
See! see! O say, 360
Is not that she, the furious, the forsaken?
She cometh, lo! this way;
Her golden-rippling hair upon her shoulders shaken,
And all her visage troubled with deep dismay.

{63}

DEMETER (entering).

Here is the hateful spot, the hollow rock
Whence the fierce ravisher sprang forth—
(seeing the nymphs) Ah! Ye!
I know you well: ye are the nymphs of Ocean.
Ye, graceful as your watery names
And idle as the mimic flames
That skip upon his briny floor, 370
When the hot sun smiteth thereo'er;
Why did ye leave your native waves?
Did false Poseidon, to my hurt
Leagued with my foe, bid you desert
Your opalescent pearly caves,
Your dances on the shelly strand?

Ch. Poseidon gave us no command,
Lady; it was thy child Persephone,
Whose beauty drew us from the sea.

Dem. Ill company ye lent, ill-fated guards! 380
How was she stolen from your distracted eyes?

Ch. There, where thou standest now, stood she companion'd
By wise Athena and bright Artemis.
We in flower-gathering dance and idle song
Were wander'd off apart; we fear'd no wrong.

Dem. In heav'n I heard her cry: ye nothing heard?

Ch. We heard no cry—How coudst thou hear in heaven?
Ask us not óf her:—we have nought to tell.—

Dem. I seek not knowledge óf you, for I know.

Ch. Thou knowest? Ah, mighty Queen, deign then to tell
If thou hast found her. Tell us—tell us—tell! 391

Dem. Oh, there are calls that love can hear,
That strike not on the outward ear.
None heard save I: but with a dart
Of lightning-pain it pierc'd my heart,{64}
That call for aid, that cry of fear.
It echo'd from the mountain-steeps
Down to the dark of Ocean-deeps;
O'er all the isle, from ev'ry hill
It pierc'd my heart and echoes still, 400
Ay me! Ay me!

Ch. Where is she, O mighty Queen?—Tell us—O tell!—

Dem. Swift unto earth, in frenzy led
By Cora's cry, from heav'n I sped.
Immortal terror froze my mind:
I fear'd, ev'n as I yearn'd to find
My child, my joy, faln from my care
Wrong'd or distresst, I knew not where,
Cora, my Cora!
Nor thought I whither first to fly, 410
Answ'ring the appeal of that wild cry:
But still it drew me till I came
To Enna, calling still her name,
Cora, my Cora!

Ch. If thou hast found her, tell us, Queen, O tell!

Dem. Nine days I wander'd o'er the land.
From Enna to the eastern strand
I sought, and when the first night came
I lit my torch in Etna's flame.
But neither 'mid the chestnut woods 420
That rustle o'er his stony floods;
Nor yet at daybreak on the meads
Where bountiful Symaethus leads
His chaunting boatmen to the main;
Nor where the road on Hybla's plain
Is skirted by the spacious corn;
Nor where embattled Syracuse
With lustrous temple fronts the morn;
Nor yet by dolphin'd Arethuse;
Nor when I crossed Anapus wide, 430
Where Cyane, his reedy bride,{65}
Uprushing from her crystal well,
Doth not his cold embrace repel;
Nor yet by western Eryx, where
Gay Aphrodite high in air
Beams gladness from her marble chair;
Nor 'mong the mountains that enfold
Panormos in her shell of gold,
Found I my Cora: no reply
Came to my call, my helpless cry, 440
Cora, my Cora!

Ch. Hast thou not found her, then? Tell us—O tell!

Dem. What wonder that I never found
Her whom I sought on mortal ground,
When she—(now will ye understand?)—
Dwelt in the land that is no land,
The fruitless and unseason'd plain
Where all lost things are found again;
Where man's distract imaginings
Head-downward hang on bat-like wings, 450
'Mid mummied hopes, sleep-walking cares,
Crest-faln illusions and despairs,
The tortur'd memories of crime,
The outcasts of forgotten time?

Ch. Where is she, Queen?—where?—where?

Dem. Nor had I known,
Had not himself high Helios seen and told me.

Ch. Alas! Alas! We cannot understand—
We pray, dear Queen, may great Zeus comfort thee.

Dem. Yea, pray to Zeus; but pray ye for yourselves,
That he have pity on you, for there is need. 460
Or let Zeus hear a strange, unwonted prayer
That in his peril he will aid himself;
For I have said, nor coud his Stygian oath
Add any sanction to a mother's word,
That, if he give not back my daughter to me,
Him will I slay, and lock his pining ghost{66}
In sleepy prisons of unhallowing hell.

Ch. (aside). Alas! alas! she is distraught with grief.—
What comfort can we make?— How reason with her?— 469
(to D.) This coud not be, great Queen. How coud it be
That Zeus should be destroy'd, or thou destroy him?

Dem. Yea, and you too: so make your prayer betimes.

Ch. We pray thee, Lady, sit thou on this bank
And we will bring thee food; or if thou thirst,
Water. We know too in what cooling caves
The sly Fauns have bestow'd their skins of wine.

Dem. Ye simple creatures, I need not these things,
And stand above your pity. Think ye me
A woman of the earth derang'd with grief?
Nay, nay: but I have pity on your pity, 480
And for your kindness I will ease the trouble
Wherewith it wounds your gentleness: attend!
Ye see this jewel here, that from my neck
Hangs by this golden chain.

[They crowd near to see.

Look, 'tis a picture,
'Tis of Persephone.

Ch. How?—Is that she?—
A crown she weareth.—She was never wont
Thus ...—nor her robe thus—and her countenance
Hath not the smile which drew us from the sea.

Dem. Daedalus cut it, in the year he made
The Zibian Aphrodite, and Hephaestus 490
O'erlookt and praised the work. I treasure it
Beyond all other jewels that I have,
And on this chain I guard it. Say now: think ye
It cannot fall loose until every link
Of all the chain be broken, or if one
Break, will it fall?

Ch. Surely if one break, Lady,
The chain is broken and the jewel falls.

Dem. 'Tis so. Now hearken diligently. All life
Is as this chain, and Zeus is as the jewel.{67}
The universal life dwells first in the Earth, 500
The stones and soil; therefrom the plants and trees
Exhale their being; and on them the brutes
Feeding elaborate their sentient life,
And from these twain mankind; and in mankind
A spirit lastly is form'd of subtler sort
Whereon the high gods live, sustain'd thereby,
And feeding on it, as plants on the soil,
Or animals on plants. Now see! I hold,
As well ye know, one whole link of this chain:
If I should kill the plants, must not man perish? 510
And if he perish, then the gods must die.

Ch. If this were so, thou wouldst destroy thyself.

Dem. And therefore Zeus will not believe my word.

Ch. Nor we believe thee, Lady: it cannot be
That thou shouldst seek to mend a private fortune
By universal ruin, and restore
Thy daughter by destruction of thyself.

Dem. Ye are not mothers, or ye would not wonder.
In me, who hold from great all-mother Rhea
Heritage of essential motherhood, 520
Ye would look rather for unbounded passion.
Coud I, the tenderness of Nature's heart,
Exist, were I unheedful to protect
From wrong and ill the being that I gave,
The unweeting passions that I fondly nurtured
To hopes of glory, the young confidence
In growing happiness? Shall I throw by
As self-delusion the supreme ambition,
Which I encourag'd till parental fondness
Bore the prophetic blessing, on whose truth 530
My spirit throve? Oh never! nay, nay, nay!
That were the one disaster, and if aid
I cannot, I can mightily avenge.
On irremediable wrong I shrink not
To pile immortal ruin, there to lie{68}
As trophies on a carven tomb: nor less
For that no memory of my deed survive,
Nor any eye to see, nor tongue to tell.

Ch. So vast injustice, Lady, were not good.

Dem. To you I seem unjust involving man. 540

Ch. Why should man suffer in thy feud with Zeus?

Dem. Let Zeus relent. There is no other way.
I will destroy the seeds of plant and tree:
Vineyard and orchard, oliveyard and cornland
Shall all withhold their fruits, and in their stead
Shall flourish the gay blooms that Cora loved.
There shall be dearth, and yet so gay the dearth
That all the land shall look in holiday
With mockery of foison; every field
With splendour aflame. For wheat the useless poppy 550
In sheeted scarlet; and for barley and oats
The blue and yellow weeds that mock men's toil,
Centaury and marigold in chequer'd plots:
Where seed is sown, or none, shall dandelions
And wretched ragwort vie, orchis and iris
And garish daisy, and for every flower
That in this vale she pluckt, shall spring a thousand.
Where'er she slept anemones shall crowd,
And the sweet violet. These things shall ye see.
—But I behold him whom I came to meet, 560
Hermes:—he, be he laden howsoe'er,
Will heavier-laden to his lord return.
 

HERMES (entering).

Mighty Demeter, Mother of the seasons,
Bountiful all-sustainer, fairest daughter
Of arch-ancestral Rhea,—to thee Zeus sendeth
Kindly message. He grieves seeing thy godhead
Offended wrongly at eternal justice,
'Gainst destiny ordain'd idly revolting.{69}
Ever will he, thy brother, honour thee
And willingly aid thee: but since now thy daughter 570
Is raised to a place on the tripartite throne,
He finds thee honour'd duly and not injur'd.
Wherefore he bids thee now lament no more,
But with thy presence grace the courts of heav'n.

Dem. Bright Hermes, Argus-slayer, born of Maia,
Who bearest empty words, the mask of war,
To Zeus make thine own words, that thou hast found me
Offended,—that I still lament my daughter,
Nor heed his summons to the courts of heav'n.

Her. Giv'st thou me nought but these relentless words?

Dem. I send not words, nor dost thou carry deeds. 581
But know, since heav'n denies my claim, I take
Earth for my battle-field. Curse and defiance
Shall shake his throne, and, readier then for justice,
Zeus will enquire my terms: thou, on that day,
Remember them; that he shall bid thee lead
Persephone from Hades by the hand,
And on this spot, whence she was stol'n, restore her
Into mine arms. Execute that; and praise
Shall rise from earth and peace return to heav'n. 590

Her. How dare I carry unto Zeus thy threats?

Dem. Approach him with a gift: this little wallet.

[Giving a little bag of seeds.

I will not see thee again until the day
Thou lead my daughter hither thro' the gates of Hell. [Going.

Her. Ah! mighty Queen, the lightness of thy gift
Is greater burden than thy weighty words.

[Exeunt severally r. and l.

CHORUS.

(1) Sisters! what have we heard!
Our fair Persephone, the flower of the earth,
By Hades stolen away, his queen to be.
(others) Alas!—alas!—ay me!    600{70}
(2) And great Demeter's bold relentless word
To Hermes given,
Threatening mankind with dearth.
(others) Ay me! alas! alas!—
(3 or 1) She in her sorrow strong
Fears not to impeach the King of Heaven,
And combat wrong with wrong.—
(others confusedly) What can we do?—Alas!—
Back to our ocean-haunts return
To weep and mourn.— 610
What use to mourn?—
Nay, nay!—Away with sorrow:
Let us forget to-day
And look for joy to-morrow:—
[(1) Nay, nay! hearken to me!]
Nay, how forget that on us too,—
Yea, on us all
The curse will fall.—
[(1) Hearken! I say!]
What can we do? Alas! alas! 620
(1) Hearken! There's nought so light,
Nothing of weight so small,
But that in even balance 'twill avail
Wholly to turn the scale.
Let us our feeble force unite,
And giving voice to tears,
Assail Poseidon's ears;
Rob pleasure from his days,
Darken with sorrow all his ways,
Until his shifty mind 630
Become to pity inclined,
And 'gainst his brother turn.
(others) 'Tis well, thou sayest well.
(2) Yea; for if Zeus should learn
That earth and sea were both combined
Against his cruel intent,{71}
Sooner will he relent.
(others) 'Tis well—we do it—'tis well.—
(1) Come let us vow. Vow all with one accord
To harden every heart 640
Till we have won Poseidon to our part.
(all) We vow—we do it—we vow.
(1) Till we have conquer'd heav'n's almighty lord
And seen Persephone restored.
(all) We vow—we vow.
(1) Come then all; and, as ye go,
Begin the song of woe.

 
Song.

Close up, bright flow'rs, and hang the head,
Ye beauties of the plain,
The Queen of Spring is with the dead, 650
Ye deck the earth in vain.
From your deserted vale we fly,
And where the salt waves mourn
Our song shall swell their burd'ning sigh
Until sweet joy return.