The Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Excluding the Eight Dramas - Bridges Robert

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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.

       Table of Contents

      CHORUS.

      Song.

       Lo where the virgin veilëd in airy beams,

       All-holy Morn, in splendor awakening,

       Heav'n's gate hath unbarrèd, the golden

       Aerial lattices set open.

       With music endeth night's prisoning terror, 660

       With flow'ry incense: Haste to salute the sun,

       That for the day's chase, like a huntsman,

       With flashing arms cometh o'er the mountain.{72} Inter se. That were a song for Artemis—I have heard Men thus salute the rising sun in spring— —See, we have wreaths enough and garlands plenty To hide our lov'd Persephone from sight If she should come.—But think you she will come?— If one might trust the heavens, it is a morn Promising happiness—'Tis like the day 670 That brought us all our grief a year ago.— ODE. O that the earth, or only this fair isle wer' ours Amid the ocean's blue billows, With flow'ry woodland, stately mountain and valley, Cascading and lilied river; Nor ever a mortal envious, laborious, By anguish or dull care opprest, Should come polluting with remorseful countenance Our haunt of easy gaiety. For us the grassy slopes, the country's airiness, 680 The lofty whispering forest, Where rapturously Philomel invoketh the night And million eager throats the morn; With doves at evening softly cooing, and mellow Cadences of the dewy thrush. We love the gentle deer, the nimble antelope; Mice love we and springing squirrels; To watch the gaudy flies visit the blooms, to hear On ev'ry mead the

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