Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, RHOECUS, by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

RHOECUS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: This is the spot. Aye, this the very tree
Last Line: Curtain
Subject(s): Masques


CHARACTERS

RHŒCUS
THE WOODSMAN
CHLOE, his daughter
A DRYAD

In the INTERLUDE, A Faun, Oreads, Nymphs

SCENE: a glade in the wood. In the centre a giant Oak tree. The time is that
of an April day.

RHŒCUS is a handsome youth, tall and sturdy, but slow of motion, a
dreamer.

THE WOODSMAN is a lusty, white-bearded old man, rough and energetic.

CHLOE, a fair earth-type.

THE DRYAD, tall and slender; elusive and wild, changeable as the April
day.

THE BEE does not appear, but his 'voice' may be imitated on a comb, or string
of a 'cello.

The oak tree should have a practicable panel opening outward. But in case of
an open-air performance with a real tree, the Dryad may appear from behind
it.

RHŒCUS

Musical Prelude, Old Greek Mode. Or, Grieg's Peer Gynt Suite I,
'Morning Mood.'

(A glade in the wood. Early morning. Enter the Woodsman, looking
about him.)

WOODSMAN
This is the spot. Aye, this the very tree.
What ho! Old fellow! How you tower there
Up to the very sky; and down below
Your roots, I dare say, grapple in the ground
Among the bones of grandsires long since dead.
Ho! You are strong and lusty. So am I!
You look down on me with a mighty scorn.
You whisper in your leaves and seem to say—
'Lo, I have seen a thousand-thousand pass
Of such as he, the weak and withering race.'
You shake with laughter, do you? You shall see!
My arm has power in it you should dread—
Power, even as the lightning and the storm
Which spared you centuries. Your time is come,
Old monarch. I decree that you shall die.
And who is monarch now? Down you shall go,
A shattered hulk to earth. And if up there
High in your branches little birds have built
Their silly nests—why, let them have a care;
Let them take wings, or they will sing no more.
Ho! What a crash 'twill make! rare sport indeed.
Mine axe thirsts for the stroke! Have at you, then!
Fire for my kettle; warmth upon my hearth;
Light in my cottage from the blazing logs—
These you shall give. Oho! To boil my pot,
For this you lived, old fellow, all these years,
A noble mission. Ho! Have at you, now!
(He hews at the oak. Enter Rhœcus and Chloe, hand in hand. Rh!
9;cus starts, on seeing what is toward.)

CHLOE
Father! 'Tis Father. See how blithe he works.
He is a mighty woodsman, Rhœcus. Look!
Can you smite blows like that with your young arm?
Oh, fie! You are a laggard. Lend him aid.
(Rhœcus stands inert.)

WOODSMAN
Ho, child! I need no help from such as he.
An idle dreamer! See, my arm is strong,
I do not blench. I'll bring the great oak down
In half a hundred strokes. Go you away
To stroll and dream together, boy and girl.
This is a man's work, Chloe. Mark me well.

CHLOE
Father, you speak too sharply of the lad.
He is a dreamer, truly; that I know,
And often I am jealous of the time
He spends apart from me in fantasies.
But he is strong and lusty. For my sake
He will smite bravely. Rhœcus, do you hear?
Now show you love me; show yourself a man!

RHŒCUS
The tree! My tree! The monarch of them all!
And must he fall at last by mortal stroke
Who lived so long amid his lesser fellows,
Immune from tempest and from thunderbolt,
And whimsies of the Gods? Nay, Woodsman, nay!
Fell not this noble oak!

WOODSMAN
(Pausing)
And why not, pray?

RHŒCUS
There is no need. Choose you another one;
For there are many in the forest here
As fitting for your purpose.

WOODSMAN
(Testily)
Choose another!
Nay, I have set my heart on seeing him,
This boaster of his strength, prone at my feet.
Why, there is none so tall and old as he,
So ripe for fuel. Ah, for many months
He'll keep my cottage warm. He is near my home,
Moreover; so the easier to haul
His carcass when he's down. A neighbor, he;
Good Neighbor, down you go!
(He falls to with a laugh.)

RHŒCUS
A neighbor! Why, then, he should be your friend.
Deal kindly with him, as a neighbor should.

CHLOE
A friend! O Rhœcus, this is fantasy;
How can a tree be friendly? Hear him now,
He has such silly fancies!

RHŒCUS
Friend indeed.
He is my ancient comrade. Many years
Since childish playing-time, here have I loved
To linger in his checkered shade, and muse
On thoughts too sweet for utterance. And here,
Dear Chloe, when I lost the sight of thee,
The fragrance of thy presence, would I come
And make soft music in the grateful silence;
Or lie and doze and dream—and see thee still
Down-gazing sweetly from the branches there;
A laughing, eerie face, as thine would be
Didst thou laugh oftener, Chloe.

CHLOE
(Pouting)
'Twas not I.
I never climbed into the tree, you know!
You dreamed; or else it was some elfin child
That you love more. They say the place is haunted!

WOODSMAN
Haunted indeed! I'll have it down, I say!
Enough of these weak whims and fooleries.
Yon tree must fall. Go, get you to your play.

RHŒCUS
Nay! Spare the tree! If only for the sake
Of that fair face which smiled upon my dreams
Through leafy fingers. I will have it so!

WOODSMAN
Will have it so! Fellow, you speak too bold.
Will have it so! Nay, I will have it down.
Come, stand aside. I'll waste no words with you
Whose words are all your might. Come, stand away!

RHŒCUS
Go to! You shall not! It is sacrilege.
See, it has lived so long; it must be dear
Even to Gods themselves. And how could you,
Mere mortal man, in half a thousand years,
Build what you would destroy in half a day?
Oh, were you thrice the father of my Chloe,
I'll lift my voice against you for its sake.

WOODSMAN
Aye, lift your voice. You dare not lift your arm!
I'll fell the tree. You stand there at your peril.

RHŒCUS
You shall not harm the tree!

CHLOE
Rhœcus! My father,
It is my father that you threaten thus.
Bethink you what you do!

WOODSMAN
The fellow's mad!
Does he not know the power of my arm?
Who lives that dare oppose me in this wood?

RHŒCUS
I dare! And, by the Gods, I dare again
Strike for the oak. Back, Woodsman, back.

CHLOE
O Father!

WOODSMAN
He is quite mad! With madmen I've no coil.
Nor would I spill his blood before my girl.
This love, this dreaming, how it spoils a man!
Chloe, away! We'll have no more of him.
I'll find a better mate for you. But mark!
I wait another day to work my will!
The oak shall fall!

CHLOE
Yes, Father. Let's away.
Rhœcus, farewell. You have no love for me,
Who care so little for the word I spoke.
I leave you to your dreams and foolish whims,
And bitter may they be!
(Exeunt Chloe and Woodsman, R.)

RHŒCUS
(Looking up at the oak)
So, they are gone,
The old man, and the maiden whom I love,
Despising me; and thou art standing yet,
Good friend, Old Oak! Yes, I have saved thy life,
I could not see thy majesty undone.
Thou who so oft hast soothed and sheltered me,
Whose branches on my sleep shed magic balm
For yearning more than mortal! For thy sake
My Chloe's love is lost. Ah, let me see
Her radiant face, as oftentimes before
Through thy green branches peering down on me;
(He covers his face with his hands and sits down under the tree.)
My Chloe's face! But strangely fair and dear,
Full of spring laughter and the untamed joy
Of nature and the childhood of the world.
(Long pause; voice of the Dryad from the tree.)

DRYAD
Rhœcus!

RHŒCUS
What voice is that? Whence comes the cry?

DRYAD
(In the tree)
Rhœcus!

RHŒCUS
It calls again! The tree! The tree!
It echoes from the oak! O Mystery!
Art thou my dream, the oak's enshrinéd spirit?
If so, come forth, sweet Shadow!

DRYAD
(Appearing through a panel in the tree)
Rhœcus!

RHŒCUS
Ah!
Do I then wake or slumber?

DRYAD
Gentle friend,
Lo, thou hast saved my sheltering tree. Kind Rhœcus,
I love thee for that deed. I would be grateful.

RHŒCUS
Fair Spirit! Grateful thou? Oh, it is I
Who bless thy favor. Thee to see, to hear,
In very presence lovelier than dreams;
So many times half spied amid the leaves,
Half heard in forest murmurs! Oh, draw near,
Speak to me once again.

DRYAD
Oh, Rhœcus, Rhœcus!
I love to say thy name, for it is dear.
Thou sav'st my father oak; thou call'st me forth
To breathe the sweet world-fragrance once again.
Oh, long, long have I waited—many years,
Aye, centuries, for this bright day of freedom.
Dear light, and air, and odor of the flowers!
The flicker of the sunbeams, and the song
Of bird and brook and bee.—(Humming of Bee begins.) Ah, little Bee,
You wait me here, I see! My messenger
He is, dear Rhœcus. See him light upon
My finger. So! He has sweet news to tell,
Sharp chronicles of all that has befallen
These ages while I slept. (Humming ceases.)—Ah, Rhœcus,
Rhœcus!
Little thou knowst the boon thou hast bestowed.
It is so dark in there, and still, and cold;
No sunshine and no neighboring. No room
To breathe, to laugh and dance,—as I will dance
For thee, dear Rhœcus, if thou'lt have it so.
(Listens.)
Lo, even now I hear the flute of Spring
That bids my feet to frolic. Hear, oh, hear!
(Flute far off. She dances. Rhœcus gazes and listens spellbound.
Music, Grieg's Waltz, Op.28.)

RHŒCUS
O blithesome Spirit, simple as a child,
Wild as bright nature and as innocent!
The image of my dreams!

DRYAD
(Flitting about)
Laugh with me, Rhœcus!
So many centuries since I have danced!
Oh, I am happy as an April bird
Who finds the world new made for him. But now
I have my heavy debt to pay to Rhœcus.
It makes me thrall unto thy wishes. Speak,
What wouldst thou, Rhœcus, for this day is thine?
What dost thou long for? Let me give it thee!

RHŒCUS
What do I long for Oh, thou very dream
Of the free spirit! What indeed!

DRYAD
Nay, Rhœcus,
Be thou not slow to ask what I can give,
And more than mortal have the power to do,
For those who please me. Ask me, gentle lad!
(She steps and poses rhythmically as she speaks.)
Say, shall I dance for thee again?—the dance
Of flowers in spring when soft winds blow across;
The maze of wavering tree-tops in the breeze,
Of ripples in the pool, of circling birds;
Of thistledown before the autumn wind;
The snowflakes swirling amid fallen leaves.—
Wilt thou have this, dear Rhœcus?

RHŒCUS
Aye, but more!

DRYAD
Yes, Rhœcus, yes! For I will sing to thee,
And thou shalt sing. We'll make the echoes reel!
And we will wander over hill and dale,
Playing with little creatures of the wild
Whom once I knew so well. Oh, thou wilt laugh!
The antics of the woods all new to thee,
How quaint they are, and dear! And I will teach
My pupil all mine ancient forest lore
Before I must return. Thine eyes are bright,
Thy cheeks are ruddy and thy limbs are strong
To climb and run and dance. I think that thou
Will make a merry comrade. Shall it be?
Or hast thou other wish at heart more dear,
Which I, long cloistered, guess not?

RHŒCUS
Gentle Spirit,
Thy words are sweet; but still—I long for more!

DRYAD
Why dost thou hesitate, and look at me
So wistfully? Nay, speak and tell me, Rhœcus,
Thy dearest wish. What can I give thee more?

RHŒCUS
Give me thyself! It is for thee I long!
My dream of dreams, unvisioned till this day!
Through winter fasts and summer's thirsty droughts,
Fires of the fall and yearnings of the Spring,
My spirit needs the neighboring of thine.
Be mine, all mine, forever!

DRYAD
How, be thine?
I am not human, Rhœcus. Free am I
Of earthly chains. Child of the Gods, immortal.
A Dryad, I, no kindred of thy race,
Pent in a tree forever.

RHŒCUS
Oh, be mine!
Teach me to win thee for mine own, fair Dryad!

DRYAD
(Laughing)
Nay, that I cannot teach thee, mortal boy!
I'll laugh with thee and love thee. I will smooth
The creases from thy sullen forehead. Yes,
I'll play with thee, as with another Dryad,
And show thee pleasant things, and twine thee flowers,
And we shall be so happy! For a day
I am thy neighbor, Rhœcus. Then once more
Back to my tree. We will not think on that;
Let us be happy now.

RHŒCUS
Child of the Gods!
Oh, that thou wouldst transform me to thy nature,
Make me immortal, even as thyself.

DRYAD
Alas, dear Rhœcus! 'Tis a mighty boon
Beyond the power of a sylvan sprite,
Heir of the forest. Ask me not! Thou know'st
I cannot give thee immortality.
The favored ones are of the Gods, themselves,
Not made.

RHŒCUS
Oh, pity me, dear gentle Spirit!

DRYAD
How should I pity thee, thou peevish boy,
Free, free, in this wide world of lovely things,
With all its mysteries to live and learn?
Oh, see this happy day before us both,
Rich in the promise of adventuring.
(She becomes serious.)
But tell me, Rhœcus; who was she—the voice
Who spoke unkindly when my tree was threatened?
Her tone cut through me as an axe the oak.
I saw her not.

RHŒCUS
A voice? A voice that hurt!
Ah, thou must mean the Woodsman's daughter, Chloe.

DRYAD
Chloe? And what is she to thee, dear Rhœcus?

RHŒCUS
A woman; a mere mortal.

DRYAD
Yet thou lov'st her;
Rhœcus, thy voice was full of gentleness
To her, not to the cruel Woodsman.

RHŒCUS
(Hesitating)
Once
I fancied her; I loved, as one may say.
But all is changed!

DRYAD
Because she was not kind,
And spoke unfriendly of my guardian tree?
Ah, Rhœcus! Thou art good and merciful.
I love thee!

RHŒCUS
Oh, that blessed word of hope!
Sweet Spirit, breathe its music once again.

DRYAD
Why should I not? I love thee, Rhœcus, yes,
For thou art kind and good to look upon,
And I am grateful, who would be thy friend.

RHŒCUS
Would thou wert mortal woman at my side!

DRYAD
A mortal, I! A woman with a voice
That hurts, like Chloe's! Yet thou lovedst her once.
Wouldst have me in her place to be thy friend?

RHŒCUS
My wife!

DRYAD
Thy wife! A word till now unknown.
Thy wife! Yet now I seem to understand.
Thy mortal wife! — The Gods have come to earth,
So I believe, and put on mortal dress
For love of human creatures like to thee,
Noble and fair. Oh, it were not so hard
For me to stoop and take thy frailness on
As for thy nature to become immortal,
Or so I think. And would it please thee, Rhœcus,
If I gave up my Dryad life for thee,
To be a mortal woman for thy sake?

RHŒCUS
I love thee! O sweet Dryad, for his sake
Who saved thy tree, be kind!

DRYAD
Not so, I love.
And yet—it may be—All is strange to me!

RHŒCUS
Beloved!

DRYAD
Much I owe thee; much I'd pay.
This mortal love I know not. Ah, but think!
No more to be a Dryad! Nevermore
Be folded in the safety of my oak
Against all fear. And nevermore to bathe
In silver starlight and immortal dew.
Never to share the revels of the nymphs,
With Pan and all my sister Oreads!
Ah, Rhœcus, dost thou listen? Nevermore
Stranger to pain and sorrow and distress.
Weak in a world whose ways I do not know,
Helpless before a fate I cannot see,
To bind myself a captive; to embrace
The perilous lot of woman for thy sake.
And for what guaranty? Oh, is it safe?
How shall I trust thee, Rhœcus?

RHŒCUS
Trust to me!
Oh, my Beloved! I would die for thee!

DRYAD
I ask thee not to die, it is to live,
And that perchance is harder. Would I knew!

RHŒCUS
What would I not do for thee!

DRYAD
Wouldst be true,
True until death to me?

RHŒCUS
Aye, true till death.
(Seizes her hands.)

DRYAD
And I would fain believe thee! Rhœcus, Rhœcus!
I owe thee more than life, and I will pay,
Though heavy be the price; 'tis Nature's law.
This day I gave thee. Give it back again,
Give it to me, one last wild Dryad day,
Of careless freedom and immortal joy.
(He releases her.)
Oh, my last day! I will be spendthrift, I,
Nor lose one moment of its preciousness.
But when the shadows lengthen, I will send
To thee my little faithful messenger,
My Bee; my golden, keen, and murmurous Bee.
Come hither, hither, little robber, come!
(Holds out her hand.)
See, Rhœcus, here I hold him to thine ear—
Nay, start not! He shall never hurt my friend.
List to his murmur. Now thou'lt know the sound
When he shall come to summon thee away
To some dim covert in the wood, where I
Shall wait thee trembling; then, alas! no more
A blithesome Dryad, but thy mortal wife.

RHŒCUS
Child of my dreams! And wilt thou come to me
To make my life one sweet, long dream of bliss?
Ah, can I e'er be worthy! Oh, Beloved,
How eagerly I wait thy messenger!
How blithely will I greet him; o'er the world
Through direst ventures would I follow him,
Dear golden Bee, to the Elysian Fields
You promise. Oh, my love, I thirst! One kiss!

DRYAD
(Eluding him)
Nay, Rhœcus! What know I of kisses yet!
I am a Dryad still. Farewell, farewell!
Until the evening, when my Messenger
Shall whisper of thine oath, lest thou forget!
Now for my Day!
(Exit Dryad, R.)

RHŒCUS
(Pursuing her)
Oh, stay, Beloved, stay!
One moment yet! See, where she fleets along
Like breath of Springtime blowing o'er the grass.
I cannot follow. I will wait and dream,
Here 'neath the oak, my perfect dream once more,
Until her messenger shall come. Forget!
Shall I forget to live?
(He lies down under the oak.)
Haste, sluggard Bee!
(He sleeps.)

Here follows the INTERLUDE

(The stage light is gradually changed from morning to a mysterious
half-light, as if picturing the dream of Rhœcus. Soft piping of a
flute is heard, nearer and nearer. Music, Edward German's 'Valse
Gracieuse,' for flute and piano, played behind the scene. A Faun enters, with a
band of nymphs — Oreads, Dryads, as many as the stage will allow. They
dance about, and are presently joined by the Dryad, whom they welcome gayly. Af
ter a merry dance the nymphs flit away pursued by the mischievous Faun.
Rhœcus sleeps throughout it all at the foot of the oak. They pay
no attention to him. After the Interlude the stage light changes to
moonlight. The Day has passed.)

PART II

(Rhœcus is still asleep. Enter the Dryad, R., with her arms
full of spring flowers. She does not see him at first.)

DRYAD
Ah! What a happy day! How I have lived!
How I have strayed like any summer cloud
Beyond the bounds of reason. How I played!
The flowers were dear as ever, and the grass
Had not forgot its kindness to my feet.
The breeze and I ran races, and the brook;
The lake caressed me with her tender lips,
When I lay floating 'mid the lily-pads,
And played I was a water-blossom, too.
O lovely world! O happy day!! O light,
And fragrance, and the touch of warm, soft things,
My kindred! How I love you! How my heart
Cleaves to you all. But now, my gnarled old oak,
The day is over and the twilight falls.
Either thy cell must cloister me once more,
Or I must do on mere mortality
For Rhœcus' sake. (She shudders.)
Ah, whiles agone, I saw
A wounded roebuck writhing in his gore;
Children I spied who robbed a linnet's nest;
A thrush trailed past me on a broken wing;
And with my scarf I bound the bleeding paw
Of a poor, timorous hare, bruised by a stone!
And all these moaned—'The work of mortal man!'
Oh, do they torture so their fellow-folk?
Are they to weakness ever merciless,
To babes and children, to the poor and old?
Perchance their very wives, whom once they loved—
Ah, those must suffer most! Oh, cruel world,
So full of sorrow! Nay, I'll break my vow,
The price too costly—I, a Dryad still,
Cloistered, yet free in spirit—
(She sees Rhœcus.)
Lo, himself!
Still sleeping 'neath my tree. How fair he is!
How lithe and strong! Naught have I seen so noble.
(She steals up and looks down tenderly upon him, scattering her flowers
on his face.)
He smiles now in his sleep, and thinks of me,
Longing for evening and my messenger.
(Sound of footsteps outside.)
A heavy tread! Who comes this way? I fear,
I know not why; I am immortal still.
(She hides behind the oak. Enter Woodsman, R.)

WOODSMAN
Ho! Now the ground is clear. To the task once more.
I'll have my payment from this haughty tree,
Which stands to mock me, doubly hateful—yes,
For its own sake and for that meddling fool's
Who vowed it should not fall, being his friend!
I'll have it down and piled beside my hearth
Ere he or any one can stop my axe!
(He spies Rhœcus asleep.)
Hey! Here's the meddler, like a log himself
Prone on the earth, where may he rot forever!
(He muses.)
I'll pay my reckoning with a double stroke!
What, you would spoil my pastime, would you, lad?
What, you would save the giant tree, your friend,
Your loitering place, your dreaming place! You sluggard!
Well, who shall save you now?
(Heaves up the axe. The Dryad, leaning from behind the tree, makes a
gesture as of sending the Bee from her hand. The Woodsman drops his axe and cla
ps his hand to his face, screaming with pain.)
Ho! Huh! A devil!
A raging devil stings me. Ha, another!
Again! Again! A host of devils here!
Surely the place is haunted. I'll be gone.
Away, ye fiends! Away!
(Exit Woodsman, L., striking at the bees and groaning.)

DRYAD
(Coming forth wringing her hands)
Oh, horrible! He would have slain the lad!
How brutal are these humans, oh, how foul!

RHŒCUS
(Speaking in his sleep)
Beloved!

DRYAD
(Leaning over him)
Rhœcus! Oh, he lives! He lives!
My hand has saved his life, and by the Law,
I am absolved and free. My debt is paid.
But what is this that binds me to thee still?
What is this ache unknown? My Love, my Sweet!
He would have slain thee! Left thee bathed in blood
Like that poor hare, the dappled deer, the bird!
Oh, who would choose to do on human nature?
And yet—ah, Rhœcus! Now thou owest thy life
Even to me. I love thee steadfastly,
As mortal mother loves her mortal babe,
But more, aye, more! Rhœcus, I will be thine!
I know thy yearning, for it is mine own.
Anon I'll send my messenger to thee.
Farewell, my Love!
(She stoops and lays a hand sweetly upon his lips. He turns, rubbing
his eyes. Dryad starts, exits hastily, L.)

RHŒCUS
(Still asleep)
My Spirit! Oh, my Dryad!
(Enter Chloe, R., who runs to his side and kneeling kisses him
tenderly. She throws away the Dryad's flowers and places her own pink roses on
his breast.)

CHLOE
You called me, Rhœcus! Dearest, I am here.
He called me in his sleep! He loves me still!
Rhœcus! Thy Chloe kneels before thy feet,
Awake, and tell her thy forgiveness.

RHŒCUS
(Waking)
Ah!
Where is she, where?

CHLOE
O Dearest, I am here!

RHŒCUS
(Looking dreamily at the flowers)
Methought she watched above me as I slept,
She brought me garlands, stooped and touched my face.

CHLOE
Yes, Rhœcus, yes. I kissed you on the lips.
Come, now, and let us be dear friends again.
Here you have slept this livelong summer day—
Oh, such a tedious, woeful day, dear Heart!
I spent it all in weeping.

RHŒCUS
Was it thou?
Ah, was it thou, good Chloe? What of her?
I have been dreaming. It was all a dream,
The song, the dancing and the gentle voice;
Perchance our quarrel too?—
(Chloe shakes her head.)
Nay, that was real.
So art thou real, dear Chloe, like these flowers,
Real, rosy-sweet and fresh; aye, very fair,
No dream. Thou broughtst them, Chloe?

CHLOE
Yes, 'twas I.
I brought them, Rhœcus, to make friends again.
Say that you love me, even as yesterday.

RHŒCUS
I love thee, dear, even as yesterday—
Or was it years agone, or centuries?
Sweet Chloe, I have slept and dreamed a dream,
More real than life and truer than this world—
Of fancies and immortal presences,
And tantalus love unsatisfied. I wake,
To find thee warm and rosy and no dream,
My human love, my other self beside me.
My darling! Why, how could we ever quarrel!
(The bee buzzes about his ear. He brushes it away.)

CHLOE
Oh! Oh! The rude and saucy Bee! Away!
How dare he come so near! Rhœcus, indeed
I knew you loved me, spite of all your fancies.
We shall be happy now. Kiss me, my lad!
(Rhœcus is about to kiss her, but the Bee buzzes closer. He starts
angrily, and once more brushes it away.)

RHŒCUS
Away, thou little pest! I say, away!
Come with me, Chloe, to thy father's house.
I will make peace with him, the good old man.
Thy father, Chloe! I forgot myself;
I was too sharp, too set upon my dream.
The Woodsman has a wisdom of his own,
But he has never known and loved a tree;
He kens but one way to the heart of it.

CHLOE
'Twill make rare blazes, dear, when nights are cold
For you and me.

RHŒCUS
Alas! The end of dreams!
Come let us go.
(The Bee buzzes about his ear. He is beside himself with anger.)
How now! That Bee again!
Thou rascal! I will teach thee once for all
To come betwixt my little love and me.
What, villain! Thou wouldst sting my very eyes?
Ah!
(He screams out with pain, clapping his hand to his eyes. Then he
strikes down the Bee and sets his foot upon it.)
Thou shalt live to rob the flowers no more.

CHLOE
Rhœcus! He stung you! But the thing is dead.
Where are you hurt, my love, my poor dear love?

RHŒCUS
Mine eyes! Mine eyes! Oh, Chloe, in mine eyes!
(Dryad appears from the woods, L., and looks at him sadly. Chloe
does not see her.)

DRYAD
Rhœcus!

RHŒCUS
The Dryad!
(The Dryad points her finger at him slowly and sadly. He clasps
his hands suddenly over his eyes with a groan.)

DRYAD
Rhœcus, fare thee well.
Take me, good oak, and cloister me once more
Safe from this cruel world, this cruel love.
The sun is sinking. Oh, farewell, farewell,
My happy day! I take back to my tree
Tears; my one gift from man.
(She goes slowly back into the tree and closes the door after her.)

RHŒCUS
(Uncovering his eyes)
Where is she? Where?
I see her not! What's come upon mine eyes?
They see not as before. Ah, am I blind!
Blind, oh, ye Gods, not that!

CHLOE
Blind, Rhœcus! Nay,
Look not so wildly; turn your eyes on me.
(He looks at her.)

RHŒCUS
I see thee, Chloe. Yes, I see these trees,
The forest and the flowers and the moon.
But there is something gone, a glory gone,
The rapture of pure sight; the Spirit gone!
Gone, and I saw her once! I saw her once!
(Holds out his arms to the tree.)

DRYAD
(In the tree)
Rhœcus, farewell!

RHŒCUS
O love, sweet love, farewell!
The best of life, the better part of me.

CHLOE
To whom farewell? Who seemed to speak erewhile?
Was it the Echo? You act so strangely, Rhœcus!
Where you were gazing there, there, even now,
I saw no one. There was no creature near,
Only the great oak tree—the hateful tree,
I think indeed 'tis haunted! Come away!

RHŒCUS
Thou saw'st not, Chloe, for 'twas ever so.
But I have seen, and now I see no more
The beauty that is dearest. I have lost!

DRYAD
(Sobbing in the tree)
Farewell, O Rhœcus!

CHLOE
Rhœcus, come with me,
To the warm hut with supper by the fire,
And I will make you soon forget your dreams.

RHŒCUS
Aye, evermore with thee, Chloe. Lead on.
Back to this spot no more. Sweet Dream, farewell!
(He turns back to the tree, but all is silent. Exeunt Chloe and Rhœ
cus. A flute is heard piping plaintively afar off.)

CURTAIN






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