Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PASTORAL, by GERHART HAUPTMANN


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PASTORAL, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: What wouldst thou
Last Line: The end of the fragment


THE FIRST ACT

The poor ARTIST lies on the couch of his studio. A strong and virile
ANGEL steps forth from the hangings that divide the room.

THE ARTIST
What wouldst thou?

THE ANGEL
Oh, why liest thou idle and sad Upon thy couch all
through the endless days And dost not stir?

THE ARTIST
I am hungry! I am weak!

THE ANGEL
Arise! Fare forth and seek thy bread i' the world!

THE ARTIST
I would not!

THE ANGEL
He who is too full of sloth
To take the nourishment God meant for him ...

THE ARTIST
The bread from the street's filth to me is still
Abominable. Let him bend who cares
To pick it up. If God can give me not
A purer meat I cannot be His guest.

THE ANGEL
Thou sinnest!

THE ARTIST
Nay, not I! 'Tis God who sins.

THE ANGEL
Now thou blasphemest!

THE ARTIST
God blasphemes, not I!
For who, as I, have served him with true soul?
Purely I have guarded Him His own pure flames,
So why denies He me the sacred oil?
I would not feed it with the fat of swine.

THE ANGEL
What God hath purified thou must not soil.

THE ARTIST
What wouldst thou and who art thou?

THE ANGEL
I am thy angel.

THE ARTIST
And my good Angel?

THE ANGEL
Aye.

THE ARTIST
Dare I believe it?

THE ANGEL
Regard me from my crown unto my feet:
Thou findest in me neither lack nor lie.

THE ARTIST
Delusion and naught else! For look, I lie
Fevered with hunger and with darkness here,
Alone, forgotten mid rubbish old and dust,
And my sick brain doth paint thine image fair
In empty space!

THE ANGEL
Grasp thou mine hand in proof.

THE ARTIST
Why grasp it? It seems strong and yet is not.

THE ANGEL
Thou knowest it not!

THE ARTIST
Thou jeerest! If it were
Not weak and vain, that angel's hand of thine,
I would not lie here conquered and unstrung!
Nay, nay, away, thou hollow phantasm, thou ...

THE ANGEL
I am no phantasm!

THE ARTIST
From the ferment wild
Of this vast Babel art thou risen up,
Out of its bubbles and its poisoned damps!
Hear how it roars and shakes! This city buries
Me and my purer light!

THE ANGEL
Thou errest, friend.

THE ARTIST
Phantasm, away with thee! Write, if thou wouldst,
Thy "mene mene tekel!" on the wall,
Thou frightest me not.

THE ANGEL
Arise, for Spring is here.

THE ARTIST
I can but laugh.

THE ANGEL
And I would have thee laugh!

THE ARTIST
I can but laugh a bitter laugh. Thou speakest
As though thou wert grandeur and might itself —
Poor, borrowed splendor of my fancy's grace!
Live, if it please thee, yet a little while!

THE ANGEL
Feelest thou not a streaming from my wings
Fragrant as flowers that by the river blow?
Seest thou not the meadow's rivulets
Run through small channels over sparkling stones?
Behold: a violet here! A daisy there!
Rest thee but yonder on that warmer slope
Where gently, yet enraptured, scarce awake,
A butterfly is faltering in the sun.

THE ARTIST
O my far homeland! O white butterfly!
O Spring and land of youth and freedom's land!

THE ANGEL
Why tarriest thou? Arise and follow me!

THE ARTIST
Into the grave?

THE ANGEL
Into thy homeland follow!

THE ARTIST
O Gabriel, for thus I name thy name,
Even because thy words like prophecy
Burn in my heart — even though I know it well
That thou art naught and speakest naught but lies ...
O Gabriel, O phantom, well I know
The path that I must tread if ever I
Emerge from this dark chamber! I must slink
Through desolate, far lanes and I must creep
In cellars full of the acrid stench of drink,
And gorge repulsive viands and inhale
The vapors of corruption. Even where
Vice like a pestilence corrodes all life,
Where infamy shames God and man himself
A beast distorted wallows in the slime —
There is my dwelling: thither leads my way!

THE ANGEL
Thou errest!

THE ARTIST
In truth I err. A labyrinth
This city holds me in which now I err
Through twenty weary, heavy, empty years.
Its alleys are fulfilled of acrid smoke.
Here night is like to day and day to night.
Here are the cry of lust, the cry of pain
Two brothers! Aye, twin-brethren, more than that:
They are wholly one, inseparably blent.
And ever rises but that one, sharp cry
Of the poor, driven soul! Sleep is not sleep!
Waking not waking there, and peace itself
An ancient, dead and long forgotten word.
Seek thou then peace, O Angel Gabriel,
And bring it me! Vainly wilt thou fare forth,
Nor in the market-place nor in the lanes,
Oh, not in churches nor in palaces
Dwells the white dove of thy long, frustrate quest.

THE ANGEL
Have faith in me! The city hath gateways! Come!

THE ARTIST
Give me thy hand. That was a weighty word.
Aye, lead me on, O thou dear prince of peace —
For that I know thee now — unto my gate.
Open it softly, let me gently out.
Oh, if I could but trust thee! Lo, I am
A cork upon the broad and violent stream,
Reft of all will. Courage I cannot find,
That ultimate courage many a one has found
And so has found his freedom. Oft and oft
I thought my soul was ready and my hand
Upon the gate ... always I trembled back.

THE ANGEL
Then come and trust me.

THE ARTIST
I cannot! Go!

THE ANGEL
What holds thee back?

THE ARTIST
My work.

THE ANGEL
What is that work?

THE ARTIST
The work for which I lived.

THE ANGEL
And didst thou live
Always for the work's sake?

THE ARTIST
Always, in truth!
What justifies my life if not my work?

THE ANGEL
Justifies thee with whom?

THE ARTIST
Before my brethren!

THE ANGEL
— Them whom thou leavest in the city of woe
They ask not after thee nor yet thy work!
Go thou from them even as thou camest once!
Neither of thee know they nor of thy work.
Come then!

THE ARTIST
Not yet. O Phantom, get thee hence!
If I should need thee I will speak thy name.
Thou cam'st too early, stayd'st too long! Ah, go!
I must obliterate thee from my slate
Like white and chalky lines that once I drew.
Thou standest? No more art thou than a breath.
Gone are the ages when the angels of
The Highest walked in equal converse linked
With mortal men.

THE ANGEL
Again thou errest!

THE ARTIST
[Arises and, as in an intense dream, approaches the easel.
So,
If thou wouldst not depart, stand still O phantom!
Stand still and with my brush I'll hold thy shape
Fast on the canvas here.

THE ANGEL
What is that work?

THE ARTIST
Rachel beside the well.

THE ANGEL
Pitiable man!
How canst thou paint what never thine eyes have seen?
What knowest thou of that strong, slender vine
In Israel's garden? Vainly stretchest thou
Thy hand toward its young grapes. And howsoever
Thy soul be famished after heavenly sweets,
And yearns for them in pain — it knows them not.
Rachel was fair ...

THE ARTIST
I know!

THE ANGEL
What knowest thou? Naught!
Such was she that who saw her cast himself
Down before God, stammering, contrite, in prayer.
She was a woman ...

THE ARTIST
Once I saw her — once!
'T was in a dream!

THE ANGEL
Rachel was beautiful ...
So beautiful that thy dark dreams steal light
From her mere shadow. And this shadow's shadow
Were glory enough upon thy canvas there:
But 'tis denied to thee!

THE ARTIST
O Rachel! Rachel!

THE ANGEL
Thou sighest! Seven years did Jacob serve
For Rachel and the long years seemed to him
Only like days, such was his love of her.
And never did God bless a child of man
More bountifully than was Jacob blessed
With these seven years.

THE ARTIST
O Rachel, vision, thou!
Even for thy shadow's shadow I have served
Thrice now seven years and I have served in vain.

THE ANGEL
For Rachel serve ye all! Aye, so it is!
For Rachel's shadow. — And this age's storm
And war and tumult are but for her sake.
But Rachel's shadow flees the while they fight:
It flees forever! Poor dupe, follow thou me!
All that thou waitest for — it is not here.
But I shall lead thee to the land of dreams,
Radiant cloudlands glorious whence comes
All that we are forever famished for.

THE ARTIST
I have been given dreams enough ere now.
O Gabriel, their many colored mists
Oppress my heart and brain and smother me.
If thou wouldst lead me, lead me to the light,
The bright, clear sunlight of the newborn day!
With dreams thou frightest me! Once only let
The pure, great morning tear asunder all
The web of dreams. Give me that entire life
That's in no need of dreams!

THE ANGEL
Fool that thou art!
The life that's in no need of dreams is — death.
Look now about thee!
[Darkness falls and the scene changes.

THE ARTIST
Where, Oh where are we?
Art thou beside me still, O Gabriel?
How long must we now wander through this dusk?
[One sees the shapes of the ANGEL and the ARTIST emerge from
time to time as though they were two pilgrims. The ANGEL leads.

THE ANGEL
Far in the East, above yon hill, behold
A narrow cloud bearing a gradual gleam!
Thence the great light arises, thence will soon
A new day unto us be born and dawn.

THE ARTIST
I am thirsty! I am weary! Let us rest.
Long was the night and full of shards the way.
We have climbed over menacing ravines,
Passed lonely narrows, glaciers. We have swum
Over cold rivers that with tumult dashed
Out of the monstrous cliffs. Oh, my teeth shake
With frost. But soon the hot waves will arise
And fill me with a glow that wearies me.
I shall stay here and fare not farther on.

THE ANGEL
'Tis well! Then as our resting place shall serve
A mossy stone on yonder hillside warm.
And thou shall slake thy thirst from that strange well
Which has for ages sanctified this spot.
Oh, many wanderers from Heaven and Earth
Its waters have refreshed. Drink thou now, too.
And — Jacob! Stretch thine hands out! Over thee
Beckons and waits the fig-tree's fruit that thou
Mayest taste thereof and eat, and be made strong.
[The scene changes. by the light of a gradual dawn one sees the
ARTIST and the ANGEL sit beside a spring that gushes from the rocks. Out
of the cliff above them emerges a mighty fig-tree. Far as the eye can reach
there are meadows and gently rolling hills dotted by groups of immemorial
trees.

THE ARTIST
Lord, it is good to be here! — I knew not
This for Thy dwelling, Lord! — O Gabriel,
Thou friend and mediator, lo, I am
Secure and near the Eternal Goodness here!
I have come home unto my father's well.
And he with that great hand eternally
Faithful gives me the cup, gives me the fruit
Wherein is life in truth. Ah, let me kiss them:
The sacred fruits I kiss, the sacred cup
And fall upon my face and worship here.
[A flush of dawn suffuses the sky.

THE ANGEL
But I now in God's morning raise aloft
The sword. Flames let it catch from heavenly fires
And to the world a flaming token be!
For, friend, where'er this sword burns not for us,
There are the empty sockets of the blind,
Compared unto our utter darkness — light!
Sources of light, and blessing, grace and wealth!
Hark to the bells of herds!

THE ARTIST
Unto mine ear
Comes no sound but of my own voice and thine.
Oh, I have never known of such a place:
Immeasurable meadowlands all green,
And mighty forests full of foliage
O'er giant trunks. And groves that tremble and stir
And twinkle when the innumerable leaves
Shake in the breeze. — Here would I build me huts!
What seest thou?

THE ANGEL
'Tis yonder herd I see
Which slowly grazing, climbing ever higher
The gentle slopes approaches now this well.

THE ARTIST
Where?

THE ANGEL
Yonder? Hearest thou not the bells.

THE ARTIST
I hear
The bells at last. I see kine wander there
Led by the glossy steer who, grazing, bends
Low his black neck in the ascent, and there,
Herdsmen I see beyond. So tell me now
This land's name and their name who dwell in it.

THE ANGEL
[Calls through his hollow hands.
Herdsmen! Here is a man who, knowing not
This land, asks who ye are and whence ye fare
And how ye call this land where your herds graze!

THE ARTIST
I hear their laughter.

THE ANGEL
Wherefore laugh ye? Speak! —
Because I am an angel and yet ask.
Have patience a little. — Even now I hear
The deep breath of the beasts ...
[Two young HERDSMEN appear.
Calmly do thou
Address them.

THE ARTIST
Who are ye?

FIRST HERDSMAN
We are Laban's herdsmen!

THE ARTIST
And what is this land's name?

FIRST HERDSMAN
Mesopotamia.

THE ANGEL
Let not thine eyes seek me in dread surprise:
Thou canst believe what these men say to thee.
How fares it then with Laban, your great lord?

FIRST HERDSMAN
All things fare well with him.

THE ANGEL
And Rachel?

FIRST HERDSMAN
Oh,
There is no foal in Laban's herds that is
So strong and fair.

SECOND HERDSMAN
If thou wouldst wait for her!
She leads the lambs behind us to the wells.

THE ANGEL
I cannot wait. My period is full.
Farewell now, Jacob! Henceforth needest thou
No guide at all. The children of these pastures
Are in the care of the Eternal Father,
This garden's Father to whom now I speed
And whose strong heart doth love you, whose great arm
Is stretched out over you and o'er your herds.

THE ARTIST
[Gazing after the disappearing ANGEL.
He floats away in space. Lo, his great wings
Spread out like mighty sails. Calmly he floats
O'er valleys, rivers, lofty tree-tops on —
And, upon earth, his shadow follows him.

FIRST HERDSMAN
Whence comest thou, O stranger?

THE ARTIST
Askest thou me?

SECOND HERDSMAN
We would so gladly know where is thy home.

THE ARTIST
Know ye what dreams are like? Nay, ye both shake
Your dusky heads. Then what would it avail
Were I to tell ye that I have come afar
Even from the land of dreams!

FIRST HERDSMAN
And what thy goal?

THE ARTIST
I have reached it now. I hear a sound of song ...?

SECOND HERDSMAN
'Tis Rachel leads her father's lambs to drink.
Hail, daughter of Laban!

THE ARTIST
Is it Rachel comes?
[RACHEL appears.

RACHEL
Ana and Magdiel, I seek ye here.
Not well ye guard the beasts that scatter far
And leave the herds. Lead them unto the springs
And give them water.

FIRST HERDSMAN
We await your brethren, Rachel!
We are not weak, but no two mortal men
Can raise the heavy stone that hides this well.

RACHEL
Ye are not weak? And yet too weak for this?
What shall be done? For the lambs cry aloud
For water, water!

THE ARTIST
[With sudden determination.
Call them, daughter of Laban,
Call thou thy sheep and I will roll away
The stone that hides the well. O herdsman, drive
Hither your cattle and thereafter bring
The sheep of Rachel to the water here.
For new herds swim into our ken afar
Wandering hither in thirst. So haste ye now
Lest the great herds be stalled, steer tread on lamb,
Or even the lambs themselves crowd to their hurt
And fall and be destroyed. Haste to your work!

FIRST HERDSMAN
First let us see thee do the deed which once
Vainly did try an Angel of the Lord.

THE ARTIST
'Tis well.
[He rolls the stone away.
Away, and do my bidding now.
[THE HERDSMEN withdraw with signs of horror.

RACHEL
O mighty stranger, now I bid thee welcome!
For thou art well inclined to us, it seems.
And, if it please thee, I shall lead thee on
Unto my father's tents. Not far from here
In shadow of a valley are they pitched.

THE ARTIST
Ye live in tents?

RACHEL
[Proudly.
Immeasurably rich
Is Laban, far as thou may'st set thy foot
In wandering thirty days, the land is his.
And his innumerable camel herds,
And herds of sheep and asses, goats and cattle
Cover the earth for many miles about.
And for the great herds' pasturage we fare
From place to place.—And I am Laban's daughter.

THE ARTIST
Even without riches art thou rich enough.
But tell me, O thou flower o' the wilderness,
Will then thy father who is so great a lord
Receive and welcome one who brings him naught
But poverty alone?

RACHEL
I see thine eyes
As after long sleep full of wonder are.
And because suddenly the herdsmen waked thee,
Thy questions have a strange, mysterious sound.
But I hear Lea's voice! O Lea, sister!
Here grows a herb will heal our father's wound.
It throbs and will not close and gives him pain.

LEA'S VOICE
Who has rolled the great stone from the sacred well?

RACHEL
[Hesitatingly.
I know it not.

THE ARTIST
Why didst thou say that, Rachel?

RACHEL
I would not have her come and look on thee,
For other thoughts have risen in my heart.
Before I lead thee unto Laban's tents
Where all my father's wives will crowd about
And little children to thy garments cling ...
Where thou must eat and drink and tell thy tale,
Thou must in the great silence speak some words
To me alone.

THE ARTIST
What shall I tell thee? Ask!

RACHEL
Oh, I would hear thee only, hear thy voice!
Naught else. Tell me, relate to me whate'er thou wouldst,
Whither thou farest, whence thou camest here,
And from what folk thou tracest thy descent ...
Whatever thou wouldst grant my heart—Oh, tell!

THE ARTIST
Have patience but a little, till my soul
Clears and from clear wells clarity may draw.
Before thou camest did an angel leave me
Who was my guide upon a darkling road.
Whence that road issued? Did I myself but know!
Fruits I ate from this fig-tree, and straightway
When I had eaten, all my yesterdays
Died in my heart. Scarcely had I sate down,
After dark woes and endless wanderings,
But that I seemed at home, and from me fell
The weight of exile. Solitary and lost
I was, who am now no more lonely, being
Near to my Father, near his power and love.

RACHEL
From a far country that is Canaan called,
And from my father's sister came a word
By wandering herdsmen brought, even as we are,
Saying that she had sent Jacob, her son,
That he might choose him, after wayfaring,
A wife among the daughters of my father.
Behold, I think thou art he! Thou art Jacob,
The son of Isaac, the great patriarch,
And of Rebecca, my own father's sister?
If thou art truly he who was foretold
Then speak — and for no other will I wait.

THE ARTIST
I am he and yet am not!

RACHEL
Surely thou art he!

THE ARTIST
How knowest thou that?

RACHEL
Beside the fire I lay,
In the bright noon, lonely, amid the sheep.
Something came over me. I took the girdle
Wherewith my body I gird and threw it straight
Into the flames. Utterly 'twas consumed.
And as the tall smoke unto heaven rose,
I spake unto our God. I said: God, Lord,
If there appear a solitary man
Who, being unbidden, rolls for me away
The great stone from the well — let that be Jacob!

THE ARTIST
What I am unto thee — that I will be!
Was ever king so royally received?
O Rachel, since thy God hath led me thus,
I may no longer now deny the name
He bids me bear. I am he whom thou seekest.

THE SECOND ACT

The tent of LABAN in the background. In the foreground an altar built of
stones. Upon a stone sits LABAN. RACHEL stands before him.

LABAN
Welcome, O Rachel, thou my dearest child!

RACHEL
I thank thee, lord.

LABAN
Where dost thou keep thy sister?

RACHEL
Thou askest after Lea? I know not, lord.
The old man who at evening makes the rounds
Among the camels, crooked Simeon,
Called me before thee. I made haste to come.
Of Lea I have had no word at all.

LABAN
But ye avoid each other, thou and Lea!
Lift up thine eyes unto me, child. I know
More of thy secret thoughts than thou, even though
Thou veilest them beneath long eye-lashes:
For Jacob's sake ye are at variance.

RACHEL
Lord,
We are not at variance.

LABAN
Sit and hear my words,
For I have many things to speak of. Hear!
When on the morrow morn the sun doth rise
To drive the darkness from our pasturage
And from thy father's flocks, 'twill mark the day
On which, seven years ago, thou didst lead hither
A man unto our tents who proved to be
Jacob the son of Isaac.

RACHEL
True, dear lord.

LABAN
Among my people he was well received,
And by us all with joy. For three long days
Feasting there was and sacrifice of thanks.
We ate and merrily drank and it did seem
As though of game and dance and harp-music
There were to be no end. Aye, Jacob was
Received like to a prince; Rebecca's son
Was honoured like a child of my own loins.
These are the self-same trees under whose shade
The cymbals crashed that day. Look round about!
For where my tents stood seven years ago
There did I bid my serfs pitch them to-day,
Even on the very spot. Rachel, behold:
White is my head, whiter than silver is
My beard. I longed for him. Again would I
Be glad with Jacob. For from the first hour
My soul unto this man was well inclined.
The joyous music of those distant days
In which God gave him to me — oft since then
In silent nights it comes to me — I would
Hear it again!

RACHEL
[Kissing his hand.
Father! My lord and father!

LABAN
Thy thanks hurt me. I have deserved them not.
First let me speak, dear child. That thanks wilt thou
Perchance withdraw when thou hast heard what God
Bade me in dreams to do. To-morrow, then,
A wedding feast will be — Jacob's and Lea's.

RACHEL
Then let me too be present at the feast,
For I have woven me gay cloaks enough,
And Jacob who for seven years has served
Thee for my sake will thank thee that I am there.
Let me rejoice! For mine is Jacob, mine!
And because he is mine, in sacrifice
I will lay down my long, black, heavy hair
Upon thine altar, and my garments, shoes,
My favorite lamb, the steer, whate'er thou wouldst.

LABAN
Lea, thy sister, then, must pine away?

RACHEL
Father, even before Jacob went away
From Canaan, he was mine. The Sons of God
Wooed me. I waited still for Jacob. Lo,
Him who is strong a mighty angel led
Unto us. Then ye ate together, drank,
And round about the valleys did resound
With noise of trumpets, cymbals and of harps.
Blessed to us the hour in which thou camest —
Such were thy words to him — and stay forever!
He stayed — he stayed for my sake — he served thee
For my sake only. He increased thy wealth
Immeasurably; from our single folk
Have grown two peoples through him. It is well.
Jacob is mine. What matters Lea?

LABAN
Rachel!
Rebecca's stubborn soul doth rise in thee,
Even my sister's. Of her harsh intent
A part lives in thee, too. Oh, hadst thou been
But gifted with her wisdom, too. For Lea,
My child, like thee, passes her sorrowful days
In sighing, her rounded cheeks wax thin and wan,
Her eyes are without light, her life is sore
Stricken with weakness and with joylessness.
Thy sister withers like the stricken vine
Frost-bitten in its bloom. She deems herself
Cheated of all her future's golden fruits: —
And she is cheated, truly, as she deems,
Unless our fathers' God — a mighty God —
Take pity on her in the ultimate hour.

RACHEL
'Tis Lea cheats herself. Jacob is mine!
Who takes him cheateth me. He cheats likewise
The gods who gave him to me, and he cheats
Him too for whose sake he has cheated me!
Jacob is mine.

LABAN
O witless, Jacob is
No man's base serf, neither thine own nor mine.
Thine is the maid-servant I gave thee, thine
The man-servant, the dog, ass, camel, too,
The sheep, the goat. All that thou takest still
Out of my bounteous hands, the tent above
Thy head, the couch beneath thee, all these things —
Albeit mine as thou thyself art mine —
Belong to thee and may with equal right
Be called thy very own. But this man Jacob
Was born to rule. No woman's girdle may —
Not even thine who art so beautiful —
Bind him so that he lie like to a bullock
Ready for sacrifice. Himself will slay
The hecatombs of God and make himself
The covenant of the mighty. He is no slave.
Blind is thine eye that doth not recognize
What is so truly unworthy of Jacob! Go!

RACHEL
If Jacob be not mine, then I shall die.

LABAN
Go to the huntsmen. Let them snare for thee
An eagle, cage it, inconsiderate child!
And watch it till men jeer at thee therefor;
Then come and speak of Jacob. Until then
Live thou or die. This one thing, by mine ire!
Like one bereft of speech from birth shalt thou
Wander about these days. In fear and trembling
Obey my firm command and seek not Jacob.
[LEA appears.
Woe if thou dare to kick against the pricks!
Approach, O Lea
[LEA approaches.
Take each others' hands!
Ye are of one blood! So shall ye be one some day
Of one heart, too. Go with my blessing, child.
[RACHEL goes.
Bring me a jug and beaker from my tent.
I am thirsty. — Speak to me ... Tired is thy gait,
Shy and unsteady thy glance! What ails thee?

LEA
Naught.

LABAN
Then Silpa, thy maid-servant, lied to me,
Who came and said: Lea is worn and ill;
She will not drink of milk nor eat of bread,
Nor of the sacrificial meat partake.
But I, thy lord and shepherd, loving thee
Would have thee wither not before thy time
Like grass in summer. Come, confide in me.
I see thy lips move but I hear no word.
If any illness at thy being gnaws,
Thou knowest that the kindly gods have lent
Me knowledge of healing herbs and simples strange.
But if to these thy sickness will not yield,
Then even for thy dear sake may each tenth beast
In all my flocks fall as a sacrifice.
Or weighs there rather on your secret soul
A wish, a yearning for what seems to thee
Utterly unattainable? A wish
That yet thou art forced to wish with such deep glow
As smoulders and consumes all other thoughts?
Tell me of it! Behold, great is my might,
And can grant many things.

LEA
Then grant me, father,
One little thing ... Lord and father, send me
Unto thy pastures by the river banks
That lie toward the sunset, with thy herds.
Bid me and Silpa fold even to-day
Our tent and on the camels place it — then
Go far away from here.

LABAN
Ask what thou wilt,
Only not that thing, Lea! Dost thou not know
How all our folk prepareth for the morrow?
The women bake, the man-serfs slay the beasts,
And the full wineskins lie in endless rows.
We cannot want thee when in Jacob's honor
The songs of praise resound. And thou must not
Withdraw thee from thy father's eye that day.
For ancient herdsman that I am, I would,
Blind to all my innumerable flocks —
Go seeking only for the one lost lamb.
And that I would not do. To-morrow all
I have must be mine own. Naught can I spare.
Rich sacrifices to the dead will flow
But they who are in the light shall with full hands
Take wine and bread even from my bounteous board
And with me be rejoiced and with me feast,
That in the fervor of our joy ye all
May blend with me. And from your myriad hearts
Who have all sprung from me, my heart shall grow,
And all our thousand pulses beat as one.

LEA
Then may God grant that my own heart do not
Break on that day.

LABAN
Then arm it, my dear child,
Not against suffering but against joy!
For on the morrow when the loud feast dies,
And when the wreaths fall from the revellers' heads,
And the fires only glow and in the realm
Of heaven only the moon and the clear stars
Reign over the mild night — then shalt thou, Lea,
Hearest thou me? Thou — and not Rachel — thou
Shalt rest in Jacob's tent at Jacob's side.

LEA
O Rachel, my poor sister!
[She falters.

LABAN
Calm thy mind!
Whatever of sweet this chalice holds for thee
Drink thou it without fear. For Rachel's cup
Is likewise ready in her father's house.
Even while we speak the golden bees are up
And busy in the endless fields, the plain
Burns with its flowers. Take that which is thine own.
[LEA kisses LABAN'S foot and departs at his nod. JACOB, one
time the artist, approaches.

LABAN
O Jacob, son of Isaac and my sister
Rebecca, thou art thrice welcome unto me!
[JACOB kneels.
Thou kneelest down before mine age. Behold,
I lift thee up even for thy youth's sake.

JACOB
Thou honorest me, Laban.

LABAN
Sit and speak.
Upon this stone shalt thou be seated, kinsman!
An hundred years ago it was my father's,
And is now sacred to my folk and me.
Be it a sign that I am grateful. Lo,
My heart is pleased within me when I mark
That thou, too, lettest me find grace the while
Before thine eyes. Come hither, then, and rest thee!

JACOB
Thou raisest me above my merit, Laban!
But ere thy serf in all humility
Bends before thy high will he must, erect,
Upon his own feet, tell of that which drove
Him onward for the space of three long days
Until he stood at last and saw thy face.
For I have sworn before the Lord, my God,
Neither to eat nor sit nor lie at rest
Before I have not freely, in thy sight,
Said that which stirs my soul.

LABAN
I hear thee, Jacob.

JACOB
O Laban, father and great patriarch,
Now that I am to speak my tongue grows weak.
What I have longed for, striven for without rest,
Now has its triumph's hour, and now my heart
That should rejoice is full of dread and sadness.
For this hour's sake I have served thee as I could;
Now it has come and it surrounds me with
A silent throng of fears and woeful shades,
And all that seemed to burgeon in mine hand
Withers away unto a sudden death.

LABAN
O thou dear home-brought stranger, hear my words:
In all the dream-meadows that are our God's
Early the sun arises in the east,
And sinks when evening comes, into the night.
And of each old day the evening is called woe!
And each new morning is called happiness.

JACOB
Father, thy words come to me as from the depth
Of Isaac's soul with a strange melody,
From a deep distance, even as a bird that flies
With slow and silent flight, and their intent,
Even like that dark bird's shadow throws a darkness
Athwart my soul's clear light. — Where am I here?

LABAN
Thou art in Canaan.

JACOB
And so in Paradise?
And that dark bird flies also here above
The boundaries of these most blessed fields.
I thought not that at all.

LABAN
God makes his days
Of evening and of morning everywhere.

JACOB
I thought that not at all. Even here there come
His shadows nourishing their being dread
Upon our blood.

LABAN
O Jacob, turn thy vision ...
What are the shadows of thy seven years?
Behold the shadows that surround my head!
Seest thou them not? Hither they throng and throng
Like flocks athirst to water. Look, I offer
Gladly and willingly to them my breast.
For a kind herdsman guards the shadows too.
And thou art a kind herdsman! Be at peace.

JACOB
Am I a kindly shepherd?

LABAN
Aye, thou art!
From all the herdsmen's fires rises thy praise
Like a clear flame that has no smoke to heaven.
As master thou wast just, as servant true.
I thank thee. And thou didst increase my herds,
Extend my lands, thou heldest in seemly check
My serfs, and ever stood beside thy couch
All night long peace, the golden, and arose
On argent wings each morning of the world
To float in blessing over all my fields.

JACOB
Am I a kindly shepherd? Was I that?
Wilt thou put such a crown upon thy grace
And call me that? Lord, I am naught at all!
I came with stormy soul to step before thee
And to demand. But seing thy great face
All my poor courage melts. I am a beggar
Gifted by thee with seven blessednesses,
Even the seven years that I have served
For Rachel: For 'tis Rachel thou didst set
As my reward, in thy unmeasured goodness,
For all that sevenfold blessedness of mine —
As a reward for what rewards itself.
Give her, though I have served not nor deserved
And am unworthy of thee utterly!
Though I am dust, thy creature, witless, naught,
Yet give me Rachel, give me Rachel, father!

LABAN
Thou knowest what Rachel is? She is like unto
That star of stars which, far above my flocks.
Flames over all earthly things. Thou askest much.
The Sons of God await her in the distance
Whenever she passes by until she bows
And Cherubim lower their eyes before her.
In all his heavens God created naught
That is so full of lovely blessedness,
And all His sweetness dwells enclosed within
The bosom of this child ... Yet — take thou her.

THE END OF THE FRAGMENT





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