THE TWO LOVERS OF HEAVEN. (continued 2)

Polemius (aside). Ye gods! Yes, he saw him! help! support me!

Aurelius. The same person who came hither Lately in the garb of a doctor, Who to-day to cure Chrysanthus Such unusual treatment orders. Do you ascertain if he Is Carpophorus; let no portent Fright you, on yourself rely, And you 'll find that all will prosper.

Polemius. Thanks, Aurelius, for your warning, Though 't is somewhat tardily offered. Whether you are right or wrong, I to-day will solve the problem. For the sudden palpitation Of my heart that beats and throbbeth 'Gainst my breast, doth prove how true Are the suspicions that it fostered. And if so, then Rome will see Such examples made, such torments, That one bleeding corse will show Wounds enough for myriad corses. [Exeunt Aurelius and Polemius.

Claudius. Good Escarpin . . .

Escarpin. Sir.

Claudius. I know not How to address you in my sorrow. Do you say that Cynthia was One of those not over-modest Beauties who to court Chrysanthus Hither came, and who (strange portent!) Had some share of his bewitchment In the stupor that came on them?

Escarpin. Yes, sir, and what 's worse, Daria Was another, thus the torment That we both endure is equal, If my case be not the stronger, Since to love her would be almost Less an injury than to scorn her.

Claudius. Well, I will not quarrel with you On the point (for it were nonsense) Whether one should feel more keenly Love or hate, disdain or fondness Shown to one we love; enough 'T is to me to know, that prompted Or by vanity or by interest, She came hither to hold converse With him, 't is enough to make me Lose the love I once felt for her.

Escarpin. Sir, two men, one bald, one squint-eyed, Met one day . . .

Claudius. What, on your hobby? A new story?

Escarpin. To tell stories, Sir, is not my forte, 'pon honour:— Though who would n't make a hazard When the ball is over the pocket?—

Claudius. Well, I do not care to hear it.

Escarpin. Ah, you know it then: Another Let me try: A friar once . . . Stay though, I have quite forgotten There are no friars yet in Rome: Well, once more: a fool . . .

Claudius. A blockhead Like yourself, say: cease.

Escarpin. Ah, sir, My poor tale do n't cruelly shorten. While the sacristan was blowing . . .

Claudius. Why, by heaven! I 'll kill you, donkey.

Escarpin. Hear me first, and kill me after.

Claudius. Was there ever known such folly As to think 'mid cares so grave I could listen to such nonsense? (exit. [Enter Chrysanthus and Daria, at opposite sides.]

Daria (to herself). O ye gods, since my intention Was in empty air to scatter All these prodigies and wonders Worked in favour of Chrysanthus By the Christians' sorcery, why, Having you for my copartners, Do I not achieve a victory Which my beauty might make facile?

Chrysanthus. O ye heavens, since my ambition Was to melt Daria's hardness, And to bring her to the knowledge Of one God who works these marvels, Why, so pure is my intention, Why, so zealous and so sanguine, Does not easy victory follow, Due even to my natural talent?

Daria (aside). He is here, and though already Even to see him, to have parley With him, lights a living fire In my breast, which burns yet glads me, Yet he must confess my gods, Ere I own that I am vanquished.

Chrysanthus (aside). She comes hither, and though I By her beauty am distracted, Still she must become a Christian Ere a wife's dear name I grant her.

Daria (aside). Venus, to my beauty give Power to make of him my vassal.

Chrysanthus (aside). Grant, O Lord, unto my tongue Words that may dispel her darkness.

Daria (aside). To come near him makes me tremble.

Chrysanthus (aside). To address her, quite unmans me:— Not in vain, O fair Daria, (aloud. Does the verdure of this garden, When it sees thee pass, grow young As beneath spring's dewy spangles; Not in vain, since though 't is evening, Thou a new Aurora dazzleth, That the birds in public concert Hail thee with a joyous anthem; Not in vain the streams and fountains, As their crystal current passes, Keep melodious time and tune With the bent boughs of the alders; The light movement of the zephyrs As athwart the flowers they 're wafted, Bends their heads to see thee coming, Then uplifts them to look after.

Daria. These fine flatteries, these fine phrases Make me doubt of thee, Chrysanthus. He who gilds the false so well, Must mere truth find unattractive.

Chrysanthus. Hast thou then such little faith In my love?

Daria. Thou needst not marvel.

Chrysanthus. Why?

Daria. Because no more of faith Doth a love deserve that acteth Such deceptions.

Chrysanthus. What deceptions?

Daria. Are not those enough, Chrysanthus, That thou usest to convince me Of thy love, of thy attachment, When my first and well-known wishes Thou perversely disregardest? Is it possible a man So distinguished for his talents, So illustrious in his blood, Such a favourite from his manners, Would desire to ruin all By an error so unhappy, And for some delusive dream See himself abhorred and branded?

Chrysanthus. I nor talents, manners, blood, Would be worthy of, if madly I denied a Great First Cause, Who made all things, mind and matter, Time, heaven, earth, air, water, fire, Sun, moon, stars, fish, birds, beasts, Man then.

Daria. Did not Jupiter, then, make heaven, Where we hear his thunders rattle?

Chrysanthus. No, for if he could have made Heaven, he had no need to grasp it For himself at the partition, When to Neptune's rule he granted The great sea, and hell to Pluto;— Then they were ere all this happened.¹²

Daria. Is not Ceres the earth, then?

Chrysanthus. No. Since she lets the plough and harrow Tear its bosom, and a goddess Would not have her frame so mangled.

Daria. Tell me, is not Saturn time?

Chrysanthus. He is not, though he dispatcheth All the children he gives birth to; To a god no crimes should happen.

Daria. Is not Venus the air?

Chrysanthus. Much less, Since they say that she was fashioned From the foam, and foam, we know, Cannot from the air be gathered.

Daria. Is not Neptune the sea?

Chrysanthus. As little, For inconstancy were god's mark then.

Daria. Is not the sun Apollo?

Chrysanthus. No.

Daria. The moon Diana?

Chrysanthus. All mere babble. They are but two shining orbs Placed in heaven, and there commanded To obey fixed laws of motion Which thy mind need not embarrass. How can these be called the gods— Gods adulterers and assassins! Gods who pride themselves for thefts, And a thousand forms of badness, If the ideas God and Sin Are opposed as light to darkness?— With another argument I would further sift the matter. Let then Jupiter be a god, In his own sphere lord and master: Let Apollo be one also: Should Jove wish to hurl in anger Down his red bolts on the world, And Apollo would not grant them, He the so-called god of fire; From the independent action Of the two does it not follow One of them must be the vanquished? Then they cannot be called gods, Gods whose wills are counteracted. One is God whom I adore . . . And He is, in fine, that martyr Who has died for love of thee!— Since then, thou hast said, so adverse Was thy proud disdain, one only Thou couldst love with love as ardent Almost as his own, was he Who would . . .

Daria. Oh! proceed no farther, Hold, delay thee, listen, stay, Do not drive my brain distracted, Nor confound my wildered senses, Nor convulse my speech, my language, Since at hearing such a mystery All my strength appears departed. I do not desire to argue With thee, for, I own it frankly, I am but an ignorant woman, Little skilled in such deep matters. In this law have I been born, In it have been bred: the chances Are that in it I shall die: And since change in me can hardly Be expected, for I never At thy bidding will disparage My own gods, here stay in peace. Never do I wish to hearken To thy words again, or see thee, For even falsehood, when apparelled In the garb of truth, exerteth Too much power to be disregarded. [Exit.

Chrysanthus. Stay, I cannot live without thee, Or, if thou wilt go, the magnet Of thine eye must make me follow. All my happiness is anchored There. Return, Daria. . . .

(Enter Carpophorus.)

Carpophorus. Stay. Follow not her steps till after You have heard me speak.

Chrysanthus. What would you?

Carpophorus. I would reprimand your lapses, Seeing how ungratefully You, my son, towards me have acted.

Chrysanthus. I ungrateful!

Carpophorus. You ungrateful, Yes, because you have abandoned, Have forgotten God's assistance, So effectual and so ample.

Chrysanthus. Do not say I have forgotten Or abandoned it, wise master, Since my memory to preserve it Is as 't were a diamond tablet.

Carpophorus. Think you that I can believe you, If when having in this garment Sought you out to train and teach you, In the Christian faith and practice, Until deep theology You most learnedly have mastered; If, when having seen your progress, Your attention and exactness, I in secret gave you baptism, Which its mark indelibly stampeth; You so great a good forgetting, You for such a bliss so thankless, With such shameful ease surrender To this love-dream, this attachment? Did it strike you not, Chrysanthus, To that calling how contrasted Are delights, delirious tumults, Are love's transports and its raptures, Which you should resist? Recall too, Can you not? the aid heaven granted When you helped yourself, and prayed for Its assistance: were you not guarded By it when a sweet voice sung, When a keen wit glowed and argued, When the instrument was silenced, When the tongue was forced to stammer, Until now, when with free will You succumb to the enchantment Of one fair and fatal face, Which hath done to you such damage That 't will work your final ruin, If the trial longer lasteth?—

Chrysanthus. Oh! my father, oh! my teacher, Hear me, for although the charges Brought against me thus are heavy, Still I to myself have ample Reasons for my exculpation. Since you taught me, you, dear master, That the union of two wills In our law is well established. Be not then displeased, Carpophorus . . . (Aside.) Heavens! what have I said? My father!

(Enter Polemius.)

Polemius (aside). Ah! this name removes all doubt. But I must restrain my anger, And dissemble for the present, If such patience Jove shall grant me:— How are you to-day, Chrysanthus? (aloud.

Chrysanthus. Sir, my love and duty cast them Humbly at your feet: (aside, Thank heaven, That he heard me not, this calmness Cannot be assumed).

Polemius. I value More than I can say your manner Towards my son, so kind, so zealous For his health.

Carpophorus. Heaven knows, much farther Even than this is my ambition, Sir, to serve you: but the passions Of Chrysanthus are so strong, That my skill they overmaster.

Polemius. How?

Carpophorus. Because the means of cure He perversely counteracteth.

Chrysanthus. Ah! sir, no, I 've left undone Nothing that you have commanded.

Carpophorus. No, not so, his greatest peril He has rashly disregarded.

Polemius. I implicitly can trust you, Of whose courage, of whose talents I have been so well informed, That I mean at once to grant them The reward they so well merit.

Carpophorus. Sir, may heaven preserve and guard you.

Polemius. Come with me; for I desire That you should from my apartments Choose what best doth please you; I Do not doubt you 'll find an ample Guerdon for your care.

Carpophorus. To be Honoured in this public manner Is my best reward.

Polemius (aside). The world Shall this day a dread example Of my justice see, transcending All recorded in time's annals. (Exeunt Polemius and Carpophorus.)

Chrysanthus. Better than I could have hoped for Has it happened, since my father Shows by his unruffled face That his name he has not gathered. What more evidence can I wish for Than to see the gracious manner In which he conducts him whither His reward he means to grant him? Oh! that love would do as much In the fears and doubts that rack me, Since I cannot wed Daria, And be faithful to Christ's banner.

(Enter Daria.)

Daria (aside). Tyrant question which methought Timely flight alone could answer, Once again, against my will To his presence thou dost drag me.

Chrysanthus (aside). But she comes again: let sorrow Be awhile replaced by gladness:— Ah! Daria, so resolved¹³ (aloud, Not to see or hear me more, Art thou here?

Daria. Deep pondering o'er, As the question I revolved, I would have the mystery solved: 'T is for that I 'm here, then see It is not to speak with thee.

Chrysanthus. Speak, what doubt wouldst thou decide?

Daria. Thou hast said a God once died Through His boundless love to me: Now to bring thee to conviction Let me this one strong point try . . .

Chrysanthus. What?

Daria. To be a God, and die, Doth imply a contradiction. And if thou dost still deny To my god the name divine, And reject him in thy scorn For beginning, I opine, If thy God could die, that mine Might as easily be born.

Chrysanthus. Thou dost argue with great skill, But thou must remember still, That He hath, this God of mine, Human nature and divine, And that it has been His will As it were His power to hide— God made man—man deified— When this sinful world He trod, Since He was not born as God, And it was as man He died.

Daria. Does it not more greatness prove, As among the beauteous stars, That one deity should be Mars, And another should be Jove, Than this blending God above With weak man below? To thee Does not the twin deity Of two gods more power display, Than if in some mystic way God and man conjoined could be?

Chrysanthus. No, I would infer this rather, If the god-head were not one, Each a separate course could run: But the untreated Father, But the sole-begotten Son, But the Holy Spirit who Ever issues from the two, Being one sole God, must be One in power and dignity:— Until thou dost hold this true, Till thy creed is that the Son Was made man, I cannot hear thee, Cannot see thee or come near thee, Thee and death at once to shun.

Daria. Stay, my love may so be won, And if thou wouldst wish this done, Oh! explain this mystery! What am I to do, ah! me, That my love may thus be tried?

Carpophorus (within). Seek, O soul! seek Him who died Solely for the love of thee.

Chrysanthus. All that I could have replied Has been said thus suddenly By this voice that, sounding near, Strikes upon my startled ear Like the summons of my death.

Daria. Ah! what frost congeals my breath, Chilling me with icy fear, As I hear its sad lament: Whence did sound the voice? [Enter Polemius and soldiers.

Polemius. From here: 'T is, Chrysanthus, my intent Thus to place before thy sight— Thus to show thee in what light I regard thy restoration Back to health, the estimation In which I regard the wight Who so skilfully hath cured thee. A surprise I have procured thee, And for him a fit reward: Raise the curtain, draw the cord, See, 't is death! If this . . . (A curtain is drawn aside, and Carpophorus is seen beheaded, the head being at some distance from the body.)

Chrysanthus. I freeze!—

Polemius. Is the cure of thy disease, What must that disease have been! 'T is Carpophorus. . . .

Daria. Dread scene!

Polemius. He who with false science came Not to give thee life indeed, But that he himself should bleed:— That thy fate be not the same, Of his mournful end take heed: Do not thou that dost survive, My revenge still further drive, Since the sentence seems misread— The physician to be dead, And the invalid alive.—

Chrysanthus. It were cruelty extreme, It were some delirious dream, That could see in this the cure Of the ill that I endure.

Polemius. It to him did pity seem, Seemed the sole reward that he Asked or would receive from me: Since when dying, he but cried . .

The Head of Carpophorus. Seek, O soul! seek Him who died Solely for the love of thee!—

Chrysanthus. What a portent!

Daria. What a wonder!

Escarpin. Jove! my own head splits asunder!—

Polemius. Even though severed, in it dwells Still the force of magic spells.

Chrysanthus. Sir, it were a fatal blunder To be blind to this appalling Tragedy you wrong by calling The result of spells—no spells Are such signs, but miracles Outside man's experience falling. He came here because he yearned With his pure and holy breath To give life, and so found death. 'T is a lesson that he learned— 'T is a recompense he earned— Seeing what his Lord could do, Being to his Master true: Kill me also: He had one Bright example: shall I shun Death in turn when I have two?

Polemius. I, in listening to thy raving, Scarce can calm the wrath thou 'rt braving. Dead ere now thou sure wouldst lie, Didst thou not desire to die.

Chrysanthus. Father, if the death I 'm craving . . .

Polemius. Speak not thus: no son I know.

Chrysanthus. Not to thee I spoke, for though Humanly thou hast that name, Thou hast forfeited thy claim: I that sweet address now owe Unto him whose holier aim Kindled in my heart a flame Which shall there for ever glow, Woke within me a new soul That thou 'rt powerless to control— Generated a new life Safe against thy hand or knife: Him a father's name I give Who indeed has made me live, Not to him whose tyrant will Only has the power to kill. Therefore on this dear one dead, On this pallid corse laid low, Lying bathed in blood and snow, By this lifeless lodestone led, I such bitter tears shall shed, That my grief . . .

Polemius. Ho! instantly Tear him from it.

Daria (aside). Thus to be By such prodigies surrounded, Leaves me dazzled and confounded.

Polemius. Hide the corse.

Escarpin. Leave that to me (The head and body are concealed).

Polemius. Bear Chrysanthus now away To a tower of darksome gloom Which shall be his living tomb.

Chrysanthus. That I hear with scant dismay, Since the memory of this day With me there will ever dwell. Fair Daria, fare thee well, And since now thou knowest who Died for love of thee, renew The sweet vow that in the dell Once thou gav'st me, Him to love After death who so loved thee.

Polemius. Take him hence.

Daria. Ah! suddenly Light descendeth from above Which my darkness doth remove. Now thy shadowed truth I see, Now the Christian's faith profess. Let thy bloody lictors press Round me, racking every limb, Let me only die with him, Since I openly confess That the gods are false whom we Long have worshipped, that I trust Christ alone—the True—the Just— The One God, whose power I see, And who died for love of me.

Polemius. Take her too, since she in this Boasts how dark, how blind she is.

Daria. Oh! command that I should dwell With Chrysanthus in his cell. In our hearts we long are mated, And ere now had celebrated Our espousals fond and true, If the One same God we knew.

Chrysanthus. This sole bliss alone I waited To die happy.

Polemius. How my heart Is with wrath and rage possest!— Hold thy hand, present it not, For I would not have thy lot By the least indulgence blest; Nor do thou, if thy wild brain Such a desperate course maintain, Hope to have her as thy bride— Trophy of our gods denied:— Separate them.

Chrysanthus. O the pain!

Daria. O the woe! unhappy me!

Polemius. Take them hence, and let them be (Since my justice now at least Makes amends for mercy past) Punished so effectually That their wishes, their desires, What each wanteth or requires, Shall be thwarted or denied, That between opposing fires They for ever shall be tried:— Since Chrysanthus' former mood Only wished the solitude Whence such sorrows have arisen, Take him to the public prison, And be sure in fire and food That he shall not be preferred To the meanest culprit there. Naked, abject, let him fare As the lowest of the herd: There, while chains his body gird, Let him grovel and so die:— For Daria, too, hard by Is another public place, Shameful home of worse disgrace, Where imprisoned let her lie: If, relying on the powers Of her beauty, her vain pride Dreamed of being my son's bride, Never shall she see that hour. Soon shall fade her virgin flower, Soon be lost her nymph-like grace— Roses shall desert her face, Waving gold her silken hair. She who left Diana's care Must with Venus find her place: 'Mong vile women let her dwell, Vile, abandoned even as they.

Escarpin (aside). There my love shall have full play. O rare judge, you sentence well!

Chrysanthus. Sir, if thou must have a fell Vengeance for this act of mine, Take my life, for it is thine; But my honour do not dare To insult through one so fair.

Daria. Wreak thy rage, if faith divine So offends thee, upon me, Not upon my chastity:— 'T is a virtue purer far Than the light of sun or star, And has ne'er offended thee.

Polemius. Take them hence.

Chrysanthus. Ah me, to find Words, that might affect thy mind! Melt thy heart!

Daria. Ah, me, who e'er Saw a martyrdom so rare?—

Polemius. Wouldst thou then the torment fly, Thou hast only to deny Christ.

Chrysanthus. The Saviour of mankind? This I cannot do.

Daria. Nor I.

Polemius. Let them instantly from this To their punishment be led.—

Escarpin. Do not budge from what you said. It is excellent as it is.

Chrysanthus. Woe is me! but wherefore fear, O beloved betrothéd mine?— Trust in God, that power divine For whose sake we suffer here:— He will aid us and be near:—

Daria. In that confidence I live, For if He His life could give For my love, and me select, He His honour will protect.

Chrysanthus. These sad tears He will forgive. Ne'er to see thee more! thus driven. . .

Daria. Cease, my heart like thine is riven, But again we 'll see each other, When in heaven we 'll be, my brother, The two lover saints of Heaven. (They are led out.

Scene II.—The hall of a bordel.

Soldiers conducting Daria.

A Soldier. Here Polemius bade us leave her, The great senator of Rome.¹⁴ (exeunt.)

Daria. As the noonday might be left In the midnight's dusky robe, As the light amid the darkness, As 'mid clouds the solar globe: But although the shades and shadows, Through the vapours of Heaven's dome. Strive with villainous presumption Light and splendour to enfold, Though they may conceal the lustre, Still they cannot stain it, no. And it is a consolation This to know, that even the gold, How so many be its carats, How so rich may be the lode, Is not certain of its value 'Till the crucible hath told. Ah! from one extreme to another Does my strange existence go: Yesterday in highest honour, And to-day so poor and low! Still, if I am self-reliant, Need I fear an alien foe? But, ah me, how insufficient Is my self-defence alone!— O new God to whom I offer Life and soul, whom I adore, In Thy confidence I rest me. Help me, Lord, I ask no more.

(Enter Escarpin.)

Escarpin. Where I wonder can she be? But I need not farther go, Here she is:—At length, Daria, My good lady, and soforth, Now has come the happy moment, When in open market sold, All thy charms are for the buyer, Who can spend a little gold; And since happily love's tariff Is not an excessive toll, Here I am, and so, Daria, Let these clasping arms enfold . . .

Daria. Do not Thou desert Thy handmaid In this dreadful hour, O Lord!—

Cries of people within.

A Voice (within). Oh, the lion! oh, the lion!

Another Voice (within). Ho! take care of the lion, ho!

Escarpin. Let the lion care himself, I 'm engaged and cannot go.

A Voice (within). From the mountain wilds descending, Through the crowded streets he goes.

Another Voice (within). Like the lightning's flash he flieth, Like the thunder is his roar.

Escarpin. Ah! all right, for I 'm in safety, Thanks to this obliging door: Lightning is a thing intended For high towers and stately domes, Never heard I of its falling Upon little lowly homes: So if lion be the lightning, Somewhere else will fall the bolt: Therefore once again, Daria, Come, I say, embrace me. . . . . (A lion enters, places himself before Daria, and seizes Escarpin.)

Daria. Oh! Never in my life did I See a nobler beast.

Escarpin. Just so, Nor a more affectionate one Did I ever meet before, Since he gives me the embraces That I asked of thee and more: O god Bacchus, whom I worship So devoutly, thou, I know, Workest powerfully on beasts. Tell our friend to let me go.

Daria. Noble brute, defend my honour, Be God's minister below.

Escarpin. How he gnaws me! how he claws me! How he smells! His breath, by Jove, Is as bad as an emetic. But you need n't eat me, though. That would be a sorry blunder, Like what happened long ago. Would you like to hear the story? By your growling you say no. What! you 'll eat me then? You 'll find me A tough morsel, skin and bone. O Daria! I implore thee, Save me from this monster's throat, And I give to thee my promise To respect thee evermore.

Daria. Mighty monarch of these deserts, King of beasts, so plainly known By thy crown of golden tresses O'er thy tawny forehead thrown, In the name of Him who sent thee To defend that faith I hold, I command thee to release him, Free this man and let him go.

Escarpin. What a most obsequious monster! With his mane he sweeps the floor, And before her humbly falling, Kisses her fair feet.

Daria. What more Need we ask, that Thou didst send him, O great God so late adored, Than to see his pride thus humbled When he heard thy name implored? But upon his feet uprising, The great roaring Campeadór¹⁵ Of the mountains makes a signal I should follow: yes, I go, Fearless now since Thou hast freed me From this infamous abode. What will not that lover do Who for love his life foregoes!— (Goes out preceded by the lion.

Escarpin. With a lion for her bully Ready to fight all her foes, Who will dare to interrupt her? None, if they are wise I trow. With her hand upon his mane, Quite familiarly they go Through the centre of the city. Crowds give way as they approach, And as he who looketh on Knoweth of the game much more Than the players, I perceive They the open country seek On the further side of Rome. Like a husband and a wife, In the pleasant sunshine's glow, Taking the sweet air they seem. Well the whole affair doth show So much curious contradiction, That, my thought, a brief discourse You and I must have together. Is the God whose name is known To Daria, the same God Whom Carpophorus adored? Why, from this what inference follows? Only this, if it be so, That Daria He defends, But the poor Carpophorus, no. And as I am much more likely His sad fate to undergo, Than to be like her protected, I to change my faith am loth. So part pagan and part christian I 'll remain—a bit of both. (Exit.

Scene III.—The Wood.

(Enter Nisida and Cynthia, flying.)

Cynthia. Fly, fly, Nisida.

Nisida. Fly, fly, Cynthia, Since a terror and a woe Threatens us by far more fearful Than when late a horror froze All our words, and o'er our reason Strange lethargic dulness flowed.

Cynthia. Thou art right, for then 't was only Our intelligence that owned The effect of an enchantment, A mere pause of thought alone. Here our very life doth leave us, Seeing with what awful force Stalks along this mighty lion Trampling all that stops his course.

Nisida. Whither shall we fly for shelter?

Cynthia. O Diana, we implore Help from thee! But stranger still!— Him who doth appal us so, The wild monarch of the mountain See! a woman calm and slow Follows.

Nisida. O astounding sight!

Cynthia. 'T is Daria.

Nisida. I was told She had been consigned to prison: Yes, 't is she: on, on they go Through the forest.

Cynthia. Till the mountain Hides them, and we see no more.

(Enter Escarpin.)

Escarpin. All Rome is full of wonder and dismay.¹⁶

Nisida. What has occurred?

Cynthia. Oh! what has happened, say?

Escarpin. Chrysanthus, being immured By his stern sire, a thousand ills endured. Daria too, the same, But in a house my tongue declines to name. It pleased the God they both adore Both to their freedom strangely to restore, And from their many pains To free them, and to break their galling chains, Giving Daria, as attendant squire, A roaring lion, rolling eyes of fire:— In fine the two have fled, But each apart by separate instinct led To this wild mountain near. Numerianus coming then to hear Of the event, assuming in his wrath, That 't was Polemius who had oped the path Of freedom for his son and for the maid, Has not an hour delayed, But follows them with such a numerous band, That, see, his squadrons cover all the land.

Voices (within). Scour the whole plain.

Others (within). Descend into the vale.

Others (within). Pierce the thick wood.

Others (within). The rugged mountain scale.

Escarpin. This noise, these cries, confirm what I have said: And since by curiosity I 'm led To sift the matter to the bottom, I Will follow with the rest.

Cynthia. I almost die With fear at the alarm, and yet so great Is my desire to know Daria's fate, And that of young Chrysanthus, that I too Will follow, if a woman so may do.

Escarpin. What strange results such strange events produce! The very wonder serves as an excuse.

Nisida. Well, we must only hope that it is so. Come, Cynthia, let us follow her.

Cynthia. Let us go.

Escarpin. And I with love most fervent, Ladies, will be your very humble servant. [Exeunt.

Scene IV.—A wilder part of the wood near the cave.

(Enter Daria guided by the lion.)

Daria. O mighty lion, whither am I led? Where wouldst thou guide me with thy stately tread, That seems to walk not on the earth, but air? But lo! he has entered there Where yonder cave its yawning mouth lays bare,

[The lion enters a cave.]

Leaving me here alone. But now fate clears, and all will soon be known; For if I read aright The signs this desert gives unto my sight, It is the very place whence echo gave Responsive music from this mystic cave. Terror and wonder both my senses scare, Ah! whither shall I go?

Chrysanthus (within). Daria fair!

Daria. Who calls my hapless name? Each leaf that moves doth thrill this wretched frame With boding and with dread. But why say wretched? I had better said Thrice blesséd: O great God whom I adore, Baptize me in those tears that I outpour, In no more fitting form can I declare My faith and hope in thee.

Chrysanthus (within). Daria fair.

Daria. Who calls my name? who wakes those wild alarms?

(Enter Chrysanthus.)

Chrysanthus. Belovéd bride, 't is one to whom thy charms Are even less dear than is thy soul, ah! me, One who would live and who will die with thee.

Daria. Belovéd spouse, my heart could not demand Than thus to see thee near, to clasp thy hand, A sweeter solace for my long dismay, And all the awful wonders of this day. Hear the surprising tale, And thou wilt know . . .

Voices (within). Search hill.

Others. And plain.

Others. And vale.

Chrysanthus. Hush! the troops our fight pursuing Have the forest precincts entered.¹⁷

Daria. What then shall I do, Chrysanthus?

Chrysanthus. Keep thy faith, thy life surrender:—

Daria. I a thousand lives would offer: Since to God I 'm so indebted That I 'll think myself too happy If 't is given for Him.

Polemius (within). This centre Of the mountain, whence the sun Scarcely ever is reflected— This dark cavern sure must hold them. Let us penetrate its entrails, So that here the twain may die.

Daria. One thing only is regretted By me, in my life thus losing, I am not baptized.

Chrysanthus. Reject then That mistrust; in blood and fire¹⁸ Martyrdom the rite effecteth:—

(Enter Polemius and Soldiers.)

Polemius. Here, my soldiers, here they are, And the hand that death presents them Must be mine, that none may think I a greater love could cherish For my son than for my gods. And as I desire, when wendeth Hither great Numerianus, That he find them dead, arrest them On the spot, and fling them headlong Into yonder cave whose centre Is a fathomless abyss:— And since one sole love cemented Their two hearts in life, in death In one sepulchre preserve them.

Chrysanthus. Oh! how joyfully I die!

Daria. And I also, since the sentence Gives to me the full assurance Of a happiness most certain On the day this darksome cave Doth entomb me in its centre. (They are cast into the abyss.)

Polemius. Cover the pit's mouth with stones. (A sudden storm of thunder and lightning: Enter Numerianus, Claudius, Aurelius, and others.

Numerianus. What can have produced this tempest?

Polemius. When within the cave they threw them, Dark eclipse o'erspread the heavens.

Claudius. Shadowy shapes, phantasmal shadows Are upon the wind projected.

Cynthia. Lightnings like swift birds of fire Dart along with burning tresses.

Claudius. Lo! an earthquake's awful shudder Makes the very mountains tremble.

Polemius. Yes, the solid ground upheaveth, And the mighty rock descendeth O'er our heads.

Nisida. While on the instant Dulcet voices soft and tender Issue from the cave's abysses.

Numerianus. Rome to-day strange sights presenteth, When a grave exhibits gladness, And the sun displays resentment.

(A choir of angels is heard singing from within the cave.) "Happy day, and happy doom, May the gladsome world exclaim, When the darksome cave became Saint Daria's sacred tomb". (A great rock falls from the mountain, and covers the tomb, over it is seen an angel.)

Angel. This great cave which holds to-day In its breast so great a treasure, Never shall by foot be trodden;— Thus it is I 've sealed and settled This great mass of rock upon it, Which doth shut it up for ever. And in order that their ashes On the wind be ne'er disperséd, But while time itself endureth Shall be honoured and respected, This brief epitaph, this simple Line shall tell this simple legend To the ages that come after: "Here the bodies are preservéd Of Chrysanthus and Daria, The two lover-saints of Heaven".

Claudius. Wherefore humbly we entreat Pardon for our many errors.

³ The whole of the first scene is in asonante verse, the vowels being i, e, as in "restricted", "driftless", "hidden", etc. These vowels, or their equivalents in sound, will be found pretty accurately represented in the last two syllables of every alternate line throughout the scene, which ends at p. 25, and where the verse changes into the full consonant rhyme. [Return]

⁴ The resemblance between certain parts of Goethe's Faust and The Wonder-Working Magician of Calderon has been frequently alluded to, and has given rise to a good deal of discussion. In the controversy as to how much the German poet was indebted to the Spanish, I do not recollect any reference to The Two Lovers of Heaven. The following passage, however, both in its spirit and language, presents a singular likeness to the more elaborate discussion of the same difficulty in the text. The scene is in Faustus's study. Faustus, as in the present play, takes up a volume of the New Testament, and thus proceeds:

"In the beginning was the Word". Alas! The first line stops me: how shall I proceed? "The word" cannot express the meaning here. I must translate the passage differently, If by the spirit I am rightly guided. Once more,—"In the beginning was the Thought".— Consider the first line attentively, Lest hurrying on too fast, you lose the meaning. Was it then Thought that has created all things? Can thought make matter? Let us try the line Once more,—"In the beginning was the Power"— This will not do—even while I write the phrase, I feel its faults—oh! help me, holy Spirit, I 'll weigh the passage once again, and write Boldly,—"In the beginning was the Act". Anster's Faustus, Francfort ed., 1841, p. 63. [Return]

⁵ The same line of argument is worked out with wonderful subtlety of thought and beauty of poetical expression by Calderon, in one of the finest of his Autos Sacramentales, "The Sacred Parnassus". Autos Sacramentales, tom. vi. p. 10. [Return]

⁶ The metre reverts here again to the asonante form, which is kept up for the remainder of this act. The vowels here used are e, e, or their equivalents. [Return]

⁷ "This Clytie knew, and knew she was undone, Whose soul was fix'd, and doted on the sun". Ovid, Metamorphoses, b. iv. [Return]

⁸ In the whole of this scene the asonante vowels are a-e, or their equivalents. [Return]

⁹ The asonante in e-e, recommences here, and continues until the entry of Chrysanthus. [Return]

¹⁰ The metre changes to the asonante in a-e for the remainder of this Act. [Return]

¹¹ The asonante in this scene is generally in o-e, o-o, o-a, which are nearly all alike in sound. In the second scene the asonante is in a-e, as in "scatter", etc. [Return]

¹² See note referring to the auto, "The Sacred Parnassus", Act 1, p. 21. [Return]

¹³ The asonante changes here into five-lined stanzas in ordinary rhyme. Three lines rhyme one way and two the other. Poems in this metre are called in Spanish Versos de arte mayor, from the greater skill supposed to be required for their composition. [Return]

¹⁴ The asonante is single here, consisting only of the long accented o, as in "Rome", "globe", "dome", etc. [Return]

¹⁵ Champion, or combater, the name generally given the Cid. [Return]

¹⁶ The metre changes to an irregular couplet in long and short lines. [Return]

¹⁷ The metre changes to the double asonante in e-e, which continues to the end of the drama. [Return]

¹⁸ Baptism by blood and fire through martyrdom. Calderon refers here evidently to the words of St. John the Baptist: "He shall baptize you in the Holy Ghost and fire"—St. Matth., c. iii. v. ii. The following passage in the Legend of St. Catherine must also have been present to his mind:

"Et cum dolerent, quod sine baptismo decederent, virgo respondit: Ne timeatis, quia effusio vestri sanguinis vobis baptismus reputabitur et corona". Legenda Aurea, c. 167. [Return]

THE SPANISH DRAMA.