SCENE: _The grove of Ceres on the right, a temple partly visible.
The island of Ortygia in rear, separated from mainland by a very
narrow channel with wall on the Ortygian side running off stage
left, to channel bridge where the ensuing conflict is supposed to
centre. The island extends down to the Lesser Harbor, centre rear,
which widens to a sea-glimpse at right. On the island shore in
the farthest distance is outlined the temple of Artemis. Part of
the Ortygian castle is shown on an island, left, the lower part
concealed by channel wall._
_At extreme left, front, the entrance to Phillistus' dwelling is
seen. Between dwelling and channel a road leads toward the bridge.
At front of stage a road runs left toward the Greater Harbor, and
right toward Epipolai, the outermost portion of the city._
_On the right, toward rear, terraces lead up to the heights of
Achridina. Various statues are seen, the largest being a Victory
at entrance to grove. Off the stage, left front, over Greater
Harbor, the sun is setting, throwing gradually softening tints and
increasing shadows._
_Troops of soldiers, laughing and talking with citizens in holiday
costume, come up the road from the Greater Harbor and pass off
toward Epipolai. Speusippus, Ascander, and Timoleon, enter from
grove and stand near the Victory. At right front enter young men
arrayed for banqueting, bearing wreaths, torches, etc. They turn
to rear and pass up terraces toward Achridina, singing._
O, pleasure is the wing of Time,
Care his limping, leaden foot!
Too late, too late, for laugh and rhyme
When old Winter's at the root
Of desire,
And no fire
Can thaw the frost where we lie mute.
Then come all and feast ye now!
Come catch Love, the pretty rover!
Not a maiden bind her brow
With a rose unkissed by lover!
As a flower
Is Cupid's hour,
And where he flies none can discover.
[_Exeunt toward the heights of Achridina_]
_Timolean._ So turns our war into a holiday.
Here Dion lands, and swift the tyrant flies
With all his boasted guard into the castle,
While Syracuse throws open gate and arms
To welcome her besieger.
_Ascander._ By Artemis!
Didst see him marching in?--Calippus on
One side, Aristocles on t'other--their corselets white
Fair shining in the sun, and each with locks
Bright garlanded?--close treading them the guards--
The hundred Grecian guards that watch by Dion,
Then all his men in battle order placed?
_Tim._ But when his trumpeter blew from the gate,
And all the people upward looked in silence
While he declared them subjects but of Heaven,
No wonder that each eye turned fount and flowed.
_Asc._ Then 'twas the wet cheek marked the noble heart,
And the unwatered eye was shame.
_Tim._ And now
His soldiers rove throughout the city, while
The people lean from walls like branching trees
And shake a crop of blessings.
_Asc._ Kisses too!
E'en in the streets the women set their tables,
And from their wreath�d urns pour Cretan wine
For Dion's men.
_Tim._ What says my lord Speusippus?
The only sour-face in all Syracuse.
_Speu._ And cause enough. A pretty soldier, sir,
Who'd choose to march with flowers in his hand
Like smirking virgin on Diana's day!
I thought the tyrant would show tooth of war
And not turn tail and kennel.
_Tim._ [_Starting_] What noise is that?
It cuts the air unlike a feasting cry.
_Speu._ By Mars, I pray our swords will yet have airing,
And good fresh drink too!
_Tim._ Here's a man, Ascander.
He courts dame Trouble as she were his wench.
_Speu._ Tut, tut, my friends, I've but a soldier's relish
For an honest fight. What's there to fear? Besides,
I have a trick to dodge misfortune's blows.
_Tim._ What's that, Speusippus?
_Speu._ Why, if breaks my cup,
I think what now an it had been my vase
From Phelas' shop? I break my vase, and straight
I cry ho! ho! now had my house been burnt
That were a woe! But burns my house indeed,
I think of wife and child who perished not;
When dies my wife or son, I thank the gods
That Death crept all so near and touched not me.
And when his certain hour to clutch me comes
I'll think of famines, plagues, of earthquakes, floods,
And nations swept away. And still I'll cure
Such broad affliction with the thought of how
The Universe itself is but a shell
To crackle when it please the hand that made it.
So, friends, I mend each woe with its own cloth
Till all looks well again.
_Tim._ Ay, but the patch
Is greater than the garment.
[_Enter Calippus, hurrying_]
_Speu._ Ho, Calippus!
_Cal._ Hail, friends! But stay me not. I run to join
The general without the city gates.
_Asc._ What? Dion?
_Cal._ Ay!
_Tim._ Without the gates?
_Cal._ 'Tis so.
Phillistus and the admiral have seized
Excitement's topping hour to turn all hearts
With fear's mad eloquence,--saying that Dion
Comes to avenge his wrongs and set up rule
More cruel than Dionysius dared. And so
This gay and garlanded humanity
Troop to these traitors, while lord Dion camps
Without the city.
_Speu._ Gods! Did he go mildly?
By Erebus' black daughter, I'd have turned
And beat them to subjection. Not a blow?
_Cal._ He came to lift their yoke, not add another,
And struck to heart with their ingratitude
Gave them their choice, nor made warlike retort
Beyond to warn them, with his finger lifted
To yonder frowning castle, that the tyrant
Was bayed, not conquered.
_Tim._ Conquered? No!
The city never knew a woe till now.
_Speu._ Ay, Syracuse should with one general bray
Cry ass to Heaven. O, mullets of Abdera,
Would ye be kings, come reign in Sicily!
_Asc._ Phillistus has no force to meet the foe
Will belch from that black fort.
_Speu._ Haste, friends, to Dion!
_Cal._ You'll go?
_Speu._ What else? There'll be some good play yet.
Bray, Syracuse, thou populated ass!
[_Exeunt. The sunlight fades into twilight, and the full moon
rises, right, rear, where the Lesser Harbor widens to the sea.
Theano comes out of Phillistus' house and places fresh verbenas on
the entrance altar. An Amazon follows her_]
_The._ Though gods forget me I'll remember them.
[_Sees the Amazon_] Stand back! I'll not be dogged!
[_The Amazon advances, folds her arms and takes station near
Theano, who turns wearily from her and looks out upon the scene_]
Well for this earth
That Beauty keeps her court for gods not men,
Nor clouds for mortal mourning! O, fair city,
And fairer night, how strange and cold your smile
Upon my heart!... The slave is gone. That means
Phillistus comes.
[_Phillistus enters opposite and stands in shadow, gazing at
Theano_]
_Phil._ I've little hope to cheat her more. Her eyes
Are at the windows of my heart and read
Each dark recess. Well, let love go if 't must.
The joys of hate are no less deep,--and she
Is mine! [_Approaches_] Theano? I am here.
_The._ I see.
_Phil._ My day of days has come! One kiss to crown it.
Art still unkind? Ah, sweet, where is the smile
Should dress thee in a fairer light than gilds
The crystal Thetis when Hyperion woos?
What! not a kiss.
_The._ This statue's sculptured lips
Are warmer, sir.
_Phil._ To me!
_The._ Though on your brow
Yon Victory should drop her high-held wreath
You'd be no more nor less than now. Who wears
The unseen chaplet given of spirit hands
To him whose soul is virtue, needeth not
Ambition's leafy handful that oft makes
The mortal brow vaunt as it grew the trees
Of all Olympus.
_Phil._ What a welcome here
For Sicily's new king! Know, my Theano,
That Dionysius is to castle beaten,
And treacherous Dion from the city thrust,
While Heraclides with me shares the power
Soon to be mine alone, for his fall, too,
Already is assured.
_The._ Then thou hast topped
The very summit of thy bold desire.
_Phil._ True! Aspiration now, lit like a lark
On Fortune's steeple, sings above all hazard.
My loved Theano, thou 'rt queen of Syracuse;
We'll sleep to-night like happy royalty
In honor's bed.
_The._ The stone of Sisyphus
Will gather moss ere that may be, Phillistus.
You gave the safety of your stable house
To my bewildered grief. 'Twas noble, sir,
Though mine was woe would make a lion sheathe
His hungry claws and pass on softest foot.
But not for gold or throne will I be yours.
Not for all sapphires that have kissed in crowns,
All rubies that in deepest caves make day,
Would I be wife to you, or take your hand
Though to be plucked into Elysium!
_Phil._ So? By the fires of Dis, I'll end this play!
Dost think me your poor slave to sweat for naught?
An ass to bear your pack for chaff and straw?
_The._ My lord?
_Phil._ Did I risk all to play the nurse
Unto your tedious grief for a false lover?
All Syracuse knows you his fool, and yet
You'd play Penelope, and hope to sit
With tears of twenty years upon your cheeks!
O stare and wonder, gasp, and sir! and ho!
Weep if you will, and pray your baby prayers.
I've done with ah's and oh's and niceties!
_The._ O now this monster shows its head!
_Phil._ Go in!...
Wilt have me call the slave?
_The._ Beware, Phillistus!
_Phil._ Of what, or whom?
_The._ Of Heaven, sir!
_Phil._ Ha! ha!
What powers there owe not their reign to man?
The mind at holiday makes gods for sport
And gives them us for masters. When I'm crowned
I'll banish all these idle, meddling wits,
These boggy brains that spring with toadstool thrones
Decked with a deity.
_The._ And yet the gods
Now hear thee!
_Phil._ Say they do, love rules 'mong gods
As men. Doubt not they'll wink at my warm suit.
_The._ O, thy black soul will be the scorn of devils
When hell has claimed thee!
_Phil._ Know me blacker still!
Since hate must be the bond between our hearts,
I'll burn this into thine--thy father's death
Was by my hand made sure, that I might woo
Your foolish mother, who drank in turn my cup.
Yet shall I wear the blossom of your love
Fair on my bosom, and the fruit shall grow
To propagate my house. So silent, madam?
Is not this news? You would not coo for me;
May I not hear you rave?
_The._ Who, who could speak?
Now swirling harpies pluck away my soul,
And leave me here a shell that yet can breathe!
_Phil._ Ah, you shall breathe and live for me--for me!
_The._ O lust, whose sovereign heel treads life
As destiny had given bond and stamp for 't!
_Phil._ Ay, my desire would charter hell for breath
And blow her fires to desolate the world
Ere lose thee now!
[_Enter a messenger from the bridge road_]
_Mess._ Sir, Heraclides begs your instant aid!
The castled enemy have darted forth----
_Phil._ How? Where?
_Mess._ Behind the wall--across the bridge!
Like adder's tongue they've struck the sleeping city.
Now Heraclides calls for men to guard
The channel crossing.
_Phil._ Say I'll join him there.
At once! Away!
[_Exit messenger_]
_Phil._ [_Calls_] Ragunda! Amazon!
[_Ragunda comes out of Phillistus' house_]
Take in your charge, and keep a closer watch.
Your life, as hers, is short or long.
[_To Theano_] In, madam!
_The._ Here dies my faith. O chance-made world, upheaved
By Demiurgus turning in his sleep!
[_Goes in with Ragunda. Enter second messenger_]
_Mess._ O, sir----
_Phil._ Pray put your periods after news,
Not 'fore.
_Mess._ My lord, the tyrant's guards have made
A second murderous sally from the castle,
And with great brands of flame have fired the city!
Now Dionysius, knowing he must forego
The tyranny, would utterly destroy us,
And wipe from earthly chronicle the name
Of Syracuse!
_Phil._ I'll come ... when I have turned
A bolt within. [_Goes in_]
[_Enter third messenger_]
_Third mess._ Where is Phillistus?
_Second mess._ [_Pointing to house_] There.
_Third mess._ The people rage against him, and have sent
Again to Dion, praying his return.
[_Re-enter Phillistus_]
_Phil._ Dion! He'll come. Then farewell crown and life!
Where, men?
_Third mess._ The fight is hardest where the wall
Runs to the channel.
_Phil._ On! That is the place.
[_Exeunt toward bridge. The sky darkens, clouding the moon. On the
road from the Greater Harbor enter men, women, and children, who
run about confusedly in the darkness_]
_First voice._ Where is the lord Phillistus?
_Second voice._ Heraclides is wounded.
_Third voice._ Dogs! They brought this hell on us!
_Voices shrieking._ The guards! The guards!
[_Soldiers of Dionysius rush on, road left, front, carrying brands
which they cast about. They seize the people and put all to the
sword_]
_Soldiers._ To Achridina! To the heights! Burn all!
[_Exeunt, right, rear, scattering brands, one of which lights the
temple of Ceres seen through the trees, left. Enter citizens,
left, front. They carry arms. Burning brands reveal the dead_]
_First citizen._ See, friends! Here lie our pictures as we'll be
A moment hence.
_Second cit._ No hope now but in Dion!
_Third cit._ [_As Dracon enters_] Dracon!
_Dracon._ All lost--all lost. Put up your swords.
The Carthaginian fleet lies in the bay,
And by the sea-gate to the castle fort
Empties her men into the tyrant's hand!
_Second cit._ O Syracuse!
_Dracon._ And next upon this news
Phillistus and the admiral desert us,
Flying to Dionysius.
_Voices._ Traitors! dogs!
_Dracon._ And now though Dion should forgive our baseness----
_Voices._ He will! he will!
_Dracon._ His force and ours united
Can not make stand against the strengthened foe.
_Voices._ O woeful night! O bloody, bloody night!
_Third cit._ Now sword and fire will make such havoc 'mong us
There'll not be breath enough in all the city
To say good-morrow to the sun.
[_Cheers without, right, front. Enter a warrior at the head of
troops. He wears helmet and carries shield_]
_Warrior._ Shame, shame!
O, Syracusans, shame! If ye be men,
Let battle take the garb of order, and death
Array itself in decency! I've brought
A band of noble Leontines to strike
With who shall prove no coward! Lift your swords
Till Victory sees them shining through the night
And knows which way to bend her doubtful wings!
On, on, my men! On, Syracusans, on!
[_All go off left, cheering. Enter Gylippus, right, rear, wounded_]
_Gylippus._ I'll drop me here till flame or steel o'er-take me.
[_Falls down_]
_Menodes._ [_Entering_] Gylippus? Wounded?
_Gy._ Deep enough. No matter.
Wounds are Bellona's favors. Do you bleed?
_Men._ I lose an arm. 'Twas a warm kiss that took it.
_Gy._ Hast seen the stranger and his Leontines?
He goes through fire as 'twere a pastime loved,
Shaking the burning timbers from his back
As they were flies.
_Men._ Thrice has he formed
The citizens for charge, though night and flame
War on confusion's side.
_Gy._ Ocrastes comes
With ships that treble all sent out from Carthage.
_Men._ Then Dion to the rescue speedily,
Or Syracuse is ashes! [_Shouts without_]
_Gy._ Dion! He's here!
Now Mercy cloister close, and stern Revenge,
Long patient, take the sword!
_Men._ Ho, who are these?
[_Enter the warrior in combat with Phillistus, left, rear_]
_Gy._ The stranger with Phillistus! Here's my blow!
[_Attempts to rise_]
_Men._ No need! He falls!
_Phil._ [_Down_] Your mercy!
_Warrior._ Take it--death!
Thou single confine of all men's corruption,
Die--die--and poison ghosts in hell!
[_Flames issue from Phillistus' house. Servants rush out,
shrieking_]
_Phil._ [_Half rising and looking at the flames_] My house
In flames! Thanks, gods, for this! Proud mistress, burn
Behind your bars, and to your black remains
Be your Ocrastes welcome!
_Warrior._ Aid me, Heaven!
[_Rushes into house_]
_Phil._ That voice--O traitor! He will save her! Ay
He'll tread through hell nor burn his feet!
I die now as they kiss! Ocrastes--O!
The rest I'll tell to gaunt and gibbering shades.
[_Dies_]
[_Curtain falls and rises upon the same scene in ruins, several
hours later. Wrecks smoulder in foreground, In rear the flames
from Achridina throw light on the untouched castle and island.
Noise of battle comes from left. Enter from bridge road Dion,
Panthus, Calippus, Aristocles, Speusippus, and others_]
_Dion._ Thanks for my life. 'Twas bravely rescued, friends.
_Cal._ My lord, you do us wrong so to expose the arm
That props our hope.
_Dion._ Nay, not with me, Calippus,
The battle rests, but with the unknown warrior
Gods lend our fainting cause. Where'er he strikes
The gash�d enemy look on their wounds
And turn like death-met fear to seek a cover.
_Aris._ Ay! Once he fell, but rose with such new might
He seemed like Mars who, tripped on Trojan field,
Uprising threw his shoulders 'gainst the clouds
And darkened heaven.
_Panthus._ By Zeus, he'd dare to hale
Rhamnusia from her wing�d car and turn
Her gryphons to the winds!
_Dion._ Back to his aid!
_Pan._ Your wound, my lord.
_Cal._ Give valor space to breathe.
There'll be brave puffing ere the wall is down.
The channel banks it close, but we may breach it.
_Speu._ It must be done, and must, sir, captains may
In war.
_Dion._ Then to it! We waste breath.
_Pan._ Stay, sir!
We go--not you--for when our general bleeds
Each man afield bleeds with him. See, your wound!
By Thaumas' claw-foot maids, 'tis past a scratch!
_Dion._ I feel not this--but O, fair Syracuse!
Rock in thy fiery cradle till the sea
Gets up to weep, and bending gods pour down
Remorseful tears to drown the reddening shame
That blushes o'er the moon and writes the name
Of hell upon the stars!
[_A sudden burst of noise and flame from the heights
of Achridina_]
Art gone, my city?...
Ah, fallen Dionysius, must thou
Lose all, then cast thy soul to swell the loss?
It is thy kingly reputation burns,
With all that thou mightst own in fair Elysium!
[_Shouting, left_]
_Speu._ The wall! the wall! They charge!
_Pan._ The stranger leads!
Ho, come, Speusippus!
_Dion._ On! on, on, my friends!
[_Exeunt, left. The flames from Achridina die down. Semi-darkness.
Men enter and creep about the blackened ruins. Soft light in the
East_]
_First man._ Now Ceres mend our bones! Will 't e'er be light?
_Second man._ Ay, yonder winks the dawn.
_First man._ This blindfold war
Is Horror past familiar--her leper cheek
Bowsing both cheeks like mistress privileged.
_Third man._ Gods keep us! Many a man has died this night
Upon his dear friend's sword. The treacherous torch
And threatening glare of flames too oft betrayed
The panic-glaz�d eye.
[_Domenes rushes on from left. Speusippus following_]
_First man._ Domenes?
_Second man._ Ay,
The captain of the tyrant's guards. The Greek
Is on him!
_Third man._ Down!
_Dom._ Spare me! I'll give you news!
_Speu._ Live while your tongue wags. Speak! What of the fleet
From Italy?
_Dom._ All lost but one poor sail
That brings the desperate news. The tyrant mad
With this is bound for flight with what is left
Of Carthage.
_Speu._ Ah, Ocrastes dead?
_Dom._ Drowned, sir.
_Speu._ And Dion's wife?
_Dom._ She's in the castle--safe.
_Speu._ And flies with Dionysius? Speak, man!
_Dom._ She begs to stay, but he may force her off.
_Speu._ Then we must stop this play and take the castle!
Drag off! You're past all harm. [_Going off, left_] Now
one charge more! [_Exit_]
[_Light breaks over Lesser Harbor_]
_Voices._ Light! light!
_First man._ O blessed Zeus! And yet I fear
The babe-eyed Dawn will sicken with what's here
And creep back into night.
_Second man._ No, day comes on,--
The red-capped nurse that in her bosom hides
The cherub Dawn, while her broad smile
Goes round the world.
_Third man._ A smile on this?
_Second man._ Ay, ay,
Her stomach's for all sights, and ulcerous earth
She'll kiss as close as fountain-laughing vales.
_First man._ By Ares' bloody dame, here's work enough
To keep the gods a year from holiday!
[_Shouts without, left. Enter citizens and soldiers in joyful
confusion_]
_Voices._ 'Tis down! The wall is down! The castle's taken!
_A voice._ The tyrant has fled by sea!
_Another._ And none too soon!
_Another._ He'd pay his head else!
_Cries without._ Dion! Dion! Dion!
[_Enter Dion with friends and citizens_]
_Dion._ Shout not my name, for 'twas the noble stranger
Who won this night. Seek him, Calippus,--beg
His presence here with brow unhelmeted,
That we may look where valor hath her home.
_Cal._ He's gone, my lord.
_Dion._ Gone?
_Cal._ Vanished, as the sea
Had lapped him up.
_Dion._ More like the gods have stooped
To draw him home again.
[_Looks about at the desolation and groans_]
_Cal._ Your wound, my lord?
_Dion._ No, no. I weep for dying Syracuse.
Now is her glory like a weary star
Withdrawn from fortune's heaven. O fairest city,
Whose beauty drew the feet of farthest kings,
And set a value in the poorest eye
To be a storied heritage to sons
When sires who saw had passed! Even thou hast won
From cold oblivion but an ashen cloak!
_Aris._ 'Tis tyranny lies here, not Syracuse.
Ay, from these mourn�d ashes, friend, will spring
A brighter glory than they bury now,
And this night's woe bear fruitage of a peace
When Time shall hang as thick with happy hours
As Flora's breast with buds.
_Speu._ By Hector's spur,
It pricks to think this valor-breasted night,
Bristling with action's pikes toward charging death,
Should e'er beg life of tolerant memory,
Thankful for so much breath as may endow
A musty adage in the mouth of peace,
Or shepherd song piped by an idle rill
To meek-eared violets in noonday shade!
O! O! my lady Fame must have her nap.
Soft, Mars, put on thy slippers!
[_Enter soldiers dragging Heraclides_]
_Dion._ Who is this?
_First soldier._ My lord, a prisoner.
_Second sol._ 'Tis Heraclides,
My lord.
_Voices._ Death! Death to Dion's enemy!
_Dion._ What? Heraclides?
_Pan._ Ay! [_Drawing his sword_] The blow is mine!
_Dion._ Put up your sword, brave Panthus. Nay, put up!
_Pan._ [_Dropping weapon_] 'Twere better used, sir.
_Dion._ Heraclides, speak.
What would you say? Do you repent this night?
_Her._ All men, my lord, repent the step that brings
Their cloud-high foreheads to earth. I lie so low
That Fortune's sun-bent eye will find no more
My sunken ruin,--and but one comfort left,
I can descend no further.
_Pan._ Ay, to hell!
_Her._ Ambition knows no hell but failure. Strike!
You put me out of torture, not send me to it.
_Dion._ Life only dreams her hells till death's be found.
_Her._ 'Tis easy thus to speak from victory's height
Whence all looks fair,--so fair misfortune seems
Sole lie o' the world. We bite truth with the dust,
My lord.
_Voices._ His sentence! Death! The traitor! Death!
_Dion._ Peace, friends.
_Voices._ Death! Seize him! Kill him!
_Cal._ Dion speaks!
_Voices._ Hear Dion!
_Dion._ Not alone in martial venture
Do victors win their bays. Let each of us,
Trampling on anger and contending malice
That from our natures thrust out serpent heads,
Forgive this captive foe, and crown our brows
With wreaths of victory outshining all
That shake from war-decked temples. Hear, my lord.
By the power I hold in the true hearts and minds
Of noble Syracusans, I forgive thee.
_Voices._ No, no!
_Cal._ My lord, he warned. He has a tongue
Would flatter Zeus from heaven, and common minds
He calls as flies to honey.
_Dion._ Nay, his sweet
Is wormwood now. Because this foolish man
Has walked in sin, shall I too blemish virtue?
_Voices._ Revenge! Revenge!
_Dion._ Who offers injury,
And who revenges it, ply the same thread
Of Nature's scarlet. Heraclides, go.
Thou'rt free.
_Her._ I do not kneel to you--a man--
But to the god that houses in your shape.
O noble Dion, what deed may speak my thanks
Too great for tongue?
_Dion._ Arise, go forth, and where
You once betrayed a thousand hearts lead one
To safety.
[_Exit Heraclides, rabble following_]
_Cal._ [_To Speusippus_] Sir, what think you?
_Speu._ 'Tis gross error.
He'll breathe a life into the stones o' the street
Ere lack for followers.
_Cal._ Come, let us see.
[_Exeunt Calippus and Speusippus, others following_]
_Dion._ [_To his Grecian guards_] Go nurse your wounds,
brave friends. I need no more
Your arms, but ever need your love. You with them,
Panthus. You know my wishes.
_Pan._ Ay, my lord.
[_Exeunt Panthus and guards. Aristocles remains with Dion_]
_Dion._ My friend! [_They embrace_] No tears! We'll
water joy hereafter.
Now there is much to do. Wilt seek Calippus for me
And make him governor of the castle?
_Aris._ Ay. [_Exit_]
_Dion._ [_Alone_] Now red revolt with opened veins lies low
Fast paling to her death; and silence deep
As takes the mother's ear who waits the step
Of her dead soldier son, creeps o'er the world.
And to my lonely eye the universe
Shrinks to a monument writ with one grief.
Ocrastes, couldst, when locked within my love--
Ay, bedded in the core--to vermin turn
And gnaw the heart thou breathedst in?... O youth,
Among life's strangely flowering hopes thou art
The blossom of deceit! When we have watched
Thy tender green peer up--thy opening buds
That wrap their silken promise round our fears--
And spent our prayers like nurturing rains upon thee
That thou mayst bloom above our pride and hang
The rose or spring upon our frosty age,
How dost thou droop, till o'er thy cankered wreck
We dew thy fall with tears!... O beauteous bud,
What deadly aconite cast its foul shade
Upon thy blowing grace? My son, my son,
I am no warrior when I think of thee,
Else would my sword be out. A father's eye
Is turned upon thy sin, and all the wrong
Thou didst to me half righted with a tear ...
... The sun comes flaming from the sea as though
Another Syracuse burnt on the waves ...
Why stand I here? The castle doors are open,
And therein waits the fairest face of earth
To shine for me To shine? O human sun,
Unlike thy skyey peer, thy light is dimmed
With what thou'st looked upon. Thy beams have drunk
Pollution deep that now detested falls
Upon my soul.
[_Re-enter Aristocles_]
_Aris._ All's well, my lord.
_Dion._ All's well?
That's strange news for my heart. Wilt go with me?
_Aris._ Whither, my lord?
_Dion._ Into yon castle.... Come.
[_Exeunt. Curtain_]