Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE FEAST OF THALARCHUS, by CONDE BENOIST PALLEN Poet's Biography First Line: Is all prepared, xeanres? Last Line: My lord, my lord! Subject(s): Courts & Courtiers; Festivals; Guests; Fairs; Pageants; Visiting | ||||||||
PERSONÆ THALARCHUS, citizen of Antioch. SIMEON, the Stylite. THAIS, an hetra. XENARES, slave of Thalarchus. ANTIPHON, CRITIAS, CHARMIDES, GLAUCO, HERMOGENES, } guests at the Feast. Demons, Fauns, Dryads, Naiads, Silenus, Pan, Bacchus and Bacchanals. Place, Antioch. Time, first half of fifth century. Enter THALARCHUS and XENARES. THALARCHUS Is all prepared, Xenares? XENARES Ay, my lord. THALARCHUS The guests all summoned? XENARES As thou didst bid, 'tis done. THALARCHUS And Thais, too? XENARES My lord, she waits thee now. THALARCHUS Now Antioch shall boast a feast to make The gorgeous riot of Nero's groaning board A peasant's fare in meanness. Ay, the gods Themselves, if ancient legends speak the truth, Shall look with jealous eye from their high seats Upon its splendid prodigality. For I have summoned earth and sea and air To yield me of their choicest; wines than gold More precious, tanged with a hundred fiery suns To make the blood run wanton in the veins; The rarest fish that winnow in the deep To edge with novel savour palates staled With years of feasting; daintiest meats unknown In this our Antioch before, to spur The jaded appetites of ancient revellers; Succulent dishes dressed by so rare art That sated gluttons shall hunger at the sight; Such subtle witcheries for eye and ear That they shall swoon with giddy surfeit; Beauty so prodigal of all her charms That Venus would stale upon the general eye; Music to ravish the amazéd sense With sweeter melodies than Orpheus blew In Pluto's ear to charm his wife from hell; Ay, such a feast as eats a fortune up At one swift mouthful, as death mortality! 'Tis 'gainst stale Fortune's self I throw the die And scorn her, having basked within her smile To dull satiety; and, scorning, court The oft-reputed thunders of her frown In sheer despite of her long blandishments. Let go what will, let come what may, I fling Defiance in her face! Let houses, lands And slaves and ships, the substance of my all, Be swallowed in this prodigality, As thunderous earthquake and the roaring wave Engulf a prideful city by the sea, That leaves no stone to mark its ancient place. XENARES My lord, the hour approaches for the feast. Wilt robe? THALARCHUS Yea, put on the festal garb, The one I purchased from the Damascene, The rarest tissue of the patient loom, Spun from the purest wool in all the East, White as the unearthed snow and delicate As petals of the rose! How soft and light! Meet for the limbs of the Olympian gods When they recline at their ambrosial feasts! How elegant in its simplicity! Unblemished by the taint of broidery, Yet richer by the pureness of its woof Than were it gilded inches deep in gold And seamed with all the pearls of gorgeous Ind. Xenares, bring the Memphian jewel, too, 'Twill fit with this most rich simplicity, A single stone white with Promethean flame Gathered within the bosom of the earth When first 'twas stolen from heaven, and angry Jove Ravened the firmament with sulphurous bolts Against the callous thief. Hear how I talk, Xenares, babbling a fable of the gods, The gruesome memory of an ancient lie Spun in the nurseries of the world, when men As yet were children. So my humour trips The gem! Hand it me. Zeus, how it burns! White as the sun's white core, yet cold as death! It wasthe Jew I bought it of so said, The lying traffickera sacred stone, That once on mother Isis' holy breast Burned 'neath the veil, when men yet worshipt And bowed with bated breath before her shrine. A pretty fable this of mother earth; The gem within her bosom 'neath the veil The easy symbol of the unquarried stone Within the darkness of the uncaverned soil, Ere men, awakened to the lust of things, Had bared her treasures to the eyes of greed. Fables, fables, to hide the shamefaced truth And gloze the ugliness of our own deeds, Lest we grow frightened at our naked selves! How prone to invent and hold ourselves excused, And out of all our baser part erect Divinities! I've had my day of faith, And hold but wraiths of wasted dreams. I've run The gamut up and down and down again, To find but jangling discords at the close. Wealth has been mine, and its sure offshoot, power, To make men pliant to my sovereign will And servants of my every nod. A man, I've sated every appetite; a god, I've bent my little world to every whim; Yet bankrupt of all joy I end at last, Life staled and shattered like a rotted gourd. Out on it all! I'll woo me beggary now, And from her withered womb beget the babe, Content, to suckle at her barren breasts And fatten on their emptiness. 'Tis said that little want is slender care, And lentils feast a witless appetite. XENARES My lord, the guests are all arrived and wait Upon thy coming. THALARCHUS Well, I come. Place thou The chaplet on my brow, that I go crowned, The sovereign of a feast beyond all dreams. Ye blushes of our common clay, how wonderful! Ye queenly flowers, the garden's royal flame, That burn like us a single hour and fade To lightest ashes blown by death about The careless earth,how sweet and beautiful! Ah me, how pitiful the thing called life, This tide of freshness quenched in salty death, Whose famine ever grows the more it feeds, As the waste sea upon the pleasant streams! Since to that bitter end do all things flow, Though ne'er so strong and beautiful. But come, Let's to the feast, and in full cups deeper Than memory drown this bleak philosophy. (Exeunt THALARCHUS and XENARES.) Hall of feast, guests reclining, music and song as THALARCHUS enters. To the feast, to the feast we come; For life is now in its bloom; Full flows the tide As onward we glide, Forgetful of doom. Like petals that fall from their flowers, Time scatters his rose-laden hours. Ah, only too brief Is the blush of the leaf In morning's white bowers! Then gather the sweets of the day; To-morrow they'll have faded away; Seize the swift bloom, Ere the blight of the tomb, And live while we may. Dread are the Fates to the fearful, Heavy is grief to the tearful; But sorrow and death And the grave's fell breath Are mocked by the cheerful. Ripe is the grape on the vine, Ruddy the blush of the wine; The ivy-crowned god Shall rule with his nod The revels divine. Let care at the portal await, An exile outside of the gate: Bacchus alone Shall sit on the throne, With Venus as mate. What heed for time and its flowing, What care for life and its going! Unreef the white sail To catch the full gale Of love's winds a-blowing! The goblet upfill to the brim, With joy aglow to the rim: To Venus our love With a snow-white dove, To Bacchus a hymn. As gods on their thrones elate, We reck not the threads of fate; Time is our slave, And death and the grave But shadows that wait. Snatch then the moment that goes Blown full with life's crimson rose; To-morrow's dim morn Will find but the thorn And theewho knows? CRITIAS Methinks there is a discord in the song: 'Tis scarcely meet to dwell on death when life Is at its full. And, when we feast, 'tis well To think on nothing but the feasting. CHARMIDES True, Friend Critias. 'Tis an unsavoury sauce Wherewith to season mirth; I like it not. To be reminded death is at the door Cripples an eager appetite. ANTIPHON Not so; Ye be but poor philosophers. 'Tis this That gives the zest to life, to know it ends. The moiety of pleasure is pursuit, The other half the climax of its taste Subsiding in delicious ecstasy Of pain. The sweet expectancy that fed Your hope before this feast is half of it; The other half in consummation now, To end in swift satiety. But were The Fates to fix your feasting here forever, The wine that tingles at your lips were poison, The viands that sweetly savour to the palate Would grow polluted as a Harpies' feast, And ye wane thinner than Tartarian shades Consumed by the eternal misery Of sheer monotony. No, friends, be wise; Treasure the hour because it speeds; hold fast The blossom because it fades; for therein lies The essence of our joy, whose little power Grasps but the moment of vicissitude, And in the last and greatest change, That we call death, sums all of life, and makes It bearable. CRITIAS By Bacchus, Antiphon, Thou reasonest well; I'll drink the deeper for't. CHARMIDES No, no, he argues ill: better to feast Forever here, recking nor change nor death, Nor that vast emptiness where Hades yawns For unsubstantial shades, than sour the wine By thinking on the lees that lie at bottom. Think you the rose is sweeter because it fades? Nay, rather were its sweetness sweeter still If it but bloomed in immortality; Think you that beauty's beautiful because It wrinkles into ugliness with age? Is Thais' alabaster throat whiter Than enskyed snow because the tawny years Will yellow it? Her lips aflame with love Because the envious hours will pluck their blossoms And leave them pale and withered? Nay, Antiphon, Beauty's her own essential loveliness, And our delight because she is herself, Nor borrows aught from time's revengeful waste. Give me the ripened rose because it blooms, The hour because 'tis filled with present sweets, And Thais' lips redder than any rose, Sweeter and dearer than Olympian bliss, Because their luscious pastures are abloom With living loves ripe now for gathering, And all sufficient in themselves to make This single hour eternal. Ay, I'd cram All future into one capacious now, And this full instant, blown radiant as the sun With joy, fashion to immortality! CRITIAS Well said, Charmides: come, we'll drink to it! Thy argument would set all Antioch dry! Ay, were the circumambient seas all wine, We'd drain them clean, and make old Neptune ride On land. Come, Ganymede, fill up again! ANTIPHON Thou'rt over-young: thy tongue outruns thy wit. CRITIAS Thou'rt over-old: thy wit has lost its sap. ANTIPHON And thine still in the green. Be wise and learn Of age, which yoked with long experience Has travelled life's close orbit o'er and o'er: First, childhood's giddy cycle swings its course, When all existence is the moment's toy, And, stayed within its sinuous channel, time Goes eddying round and round with bubbling wave, The hours perennial vessels of delight Gushing with joy; then youth with passionate feet Pursuing pleasure to the close, draining The chalice dry, and reaping aftermaths Of pain in flagging nature's ravished powers; Youth spent, mid-age awakening from the dream, Plucking experience from the thorny vine Of sorrow, and temperately husbanding Its joys by holding passion in the leash; Lastly, old age, cautious as creeping snails Feeling the way, on wisdom's slow staff leans, With prudence for its guide, and treads the path Of pleasure moderately, knowing the pain Of haste and ruin of excess. CHARMIDES Thy blood Is thin, and wrinkled as the cheek of eld Is thy philosophy, O Antiphon. Thou preachest for thyself, whose narrow stream Is running dry in parched and barren sands! Go spout thy platitudes at funerals, And in the corpse's stony ear discourse Upon the vanities of life. Our blood Is red with lustihood, our years fuller Than Amalthea's horn: we drink, we feast, We die not! CRITIAS Come, sweet Ganymede, fill up Again! I'm father Bacchus' own to-night, Immortal as the gods! Fill up, I say, And drown these musty arguments in wine. Here's to thee, ancient Antiphon! Come, drink! Warm thine old blood with bacchanalian fires; Ruby the ashes of thy beard with wine, And dream thou'rt young again. I'll wager now Thou'st not been drunk these thirty years! ANTIPHON Fie, boy! Thou'lt feel the Furies' lash to-morrow morn. Thalarchus, I appeal to theeholds not My argument in reason? THALARCHUS Sweet friends, Let's not dispute about the festal board, But all here move to music and to joy Concordant as the chiming heavens sing In loves harmonious. Upon the arch Of time enthroned we sit as gods to-night! Let not to-morrow stare with stony face Upon our festival. Olympians all, We'll make the old Olympian fable true; Pleasure and beauty by our side, whilst Love, Divinest minister, with rosy fingers Enweaves his flowery chains to hold us all The bonded servants of his amorous nod. Thais, O lovelier than Aphrodite's self Rising resplendent from the shimmering waves Kissing her feet and worshipping, sing thou Of love, who art his sovereign mistress now. Here, boy, the chaplet and the cithara. ANTIPHON How Bacchus blossoms wanton from his lips! CRITIAS Sweet Hebe, sit thee with me while she sings, Thy lip and mine upon the crater's rim, While Venus and the god meet in the cup. Hercle! thou art as lovely as Thais there, Though Aphrodite envy her! Hebe And Ganymede art thou in one, sweeter Than Hybla's honey CHARMIDES Cease, Thais begins. THAIS (singing) Swifter than fire Is love's desire, Sweeter than wine; Stronger than hate, Closer than fate Its tendrils entwine. Zeus' grim power Stays not its soft hour, Its sweet, sharp pain; In Danaë's tower Falls the hot shower Of golden rain. Love is a rose That flame-like blows In passion's breast; Pluck it and hold it, Softly enfold it In love's own nest. Thy lips are red As the poppy's head, Thy breath as wine; Tender thine eyes As midnight skies With stars that shine. Take me and hold me, Softly enfold me, My lips to thine, As love with desire, Passion with fire, And vine with vine. THALARCHUS Thais, thy beauty ravishes the eye, Thy song the ear. Captive thou tak'st the heart, And lead'st the soul in gilded chains to love! Venus were beggared of the golden prize, Were Paris here to-night. THAIS And lov'st thou me, Thalarchus? THALARCHUS Yea, as Bacchus wine, Mars war, As Jove his power, and Venus lovers! THAIS Ah! Thou lovest as I would be loved. Pledge me As Antony his Cleopatra, Staking imperial Rome; and I will plight As Cleopatra pledged her Antony, Throwing the priceless pearl within the cup, Till its dissolvéd beauty made the wine Precious as Egypt's kingdom. See! I fling This pearl, though not so fair as Cleopatra's, Oh, would 'twere fairer by a kingdom's worth! Into the ruby flood, and pledge our loves In its quintuple wealth; though this be poor Indeed beside the largess of our hearts, As beggars' mites compared to Crsus' gold. ANTIPHON The very pearl himself once gave her! THALARCHUS Nay, Fairest, touch but the wine with thy rose lips, And it grows nectar fitter for gods than men, Richer than all that Cleopatra ruled Or Antony e'er flung away. I'll pledge, Not in the fragile beauty of a pearl, Whose lustre, like the rainbow, melts away, With heaven's cloudy tears, before the sun, But, worthier still, in the eternal fires Of this most royal gem, that gleamed and glowed Of yore on Mother Isis' fecund breast, And now from thine drawing a rosier warmth, Shall shed diviner radiance. Thais, to thee, Empress of love, fair sovereign of our hearts! Wear thou the stone, and in thy beauty 'twill shine More beautiful. I'll sing to thee of love. CHARMIDES The stone's a treble fortune! ANTIPHON Treble that, Charmides! Why, 'twould buy half Antioch! How she did wheedle him! His juggled wits Are like the pearl disported in the wine. Occasion ripe, she played her venture well, And staked a costly hazard on the die, To win most preciously. When gain's the game, Bacchus is never match for Venus. THALARCHUS (singing) What made the gods more fair than love? What wrought the gods more rare than love? What compare to love? Tell me, ye who love! Naught in the sea or air, O Love, In earth or there above, O Love, my Love! Sweeter than tang of wine, O Love, Brighter than gems that shine, O Love, Than gold more fine, O Love, Softer than roses, Love; The gods one gift divine, O Love, My love with thine, my Dove, O Love, my Love! THAIS Sweeter than Orpheus fluted in mid-hell, Thy song, Thalarchus. See, upon my breast, The roseate gleam of mother Isis' stone. Thou art a royal lover. THALARCHUS Who but a king May fitly woo the queen of love? CRITIAS Hebe, I'll drink with thee again; sweet Hebe Why, Venus were a hag beside thee now! O Bacchus is a jolly fellow! Come, We'll drink to him, a jolly tipsy god! Let's sing to him, let's sing, I say! ANTIPHON Thou'lt snore With him under the table, Critias, Before thou'lt sing. CRITIAS Ay, snore with him; let's snore With him; a jolly tipsy god, let's snore With him, I say! Hebe, I drink to thee! A jolly tipsy (CRITIAS falls) ANTIPHON Under the table, swine, At last. The beast in man is most of him. Behold, Charmides, thy philosophy, Under the table. So folly clasps excess About the neck, and both together drown. In moderation taste the dangerous cup, And therein find delight; for reason, master, Holds back the foaming steeds of sense rushing Headlong and blind along the parlous course, Keener and truer for the checking hand That guides them straining at the reins. CHARMIDES Old owl, Hoot thy pragmatics to the frosty moon; Bathe with cold Dian in her icy streams, And nourish thy thin blood on chiccory. But we live in the lusty sun, our hearts Aglow with all the blessing of the god; 'Tis mother Ceres stores them in the grape, And father Bacchus brews them in the wine. Here's rich Falernian ripe with Italy's tang, Encasked these many years in the cool earth, Mellow with her soft days, each draught a dream Of golden happiness! Fill, fill again And drink! Here's to Thalarchus and his love! We're gods to-night and flout the troublous world! GLAUCO Hast tasted these delicious ortolans, Hermogenes? and these flamingo tongues? I would I had a hundred palates now! Alas, why were we made with only one! HERMOGENES Thou'rt crammed as full as a cock's craw, Glauco! GLAUCO Oh that I had a craw to stow away These ortolans! The gods, Hermogenes, Were jealous when they made us, else why made Our small capacities all single? HERMOGENES True, Yet thou canst eat again. GLAUCO But when again Wilt find such feast as this! such ortolans, Such mullets, all the way from Mauritania! Such lampreys, luscious with ambrosial sauce, As though the gods themselves were in the kitchen! Such tender mushrooms, sweeter than HERMOGENES Such wines! Thou hast forgot the wines! GLAUCO No, no! drink not Hermogenes, before or when thou eat'st. 'Tis the first canon of the feaster's art; For wine thickens the nicer taste and dulls The quintessential appetite, that sense, That cultured sense, whose fine discernment sifts The subtler flavours of the food, but has No lodgment in the gross and vulgar mouth. Then after thou has eat repletedly, Drink to the full, and in the vintage drown Thy woe, that thou canst eat no more. HERMOGENES Hercle! See, Glauco, Thais' beauty glows revealed! Venus Epistrophia, thou art outdone! GLAUCO It is an art, Hermogenes, that few Attain. In eating, men are mostly beasts. That nice distinction which (Enter Bacchanalians.) HERMOGENES O ravishment! Behold Silenus and his glittering crew! Evoe! Fauns and Nymphs, Dryads and Naiads, With lute and Father Pan's own mellow reed, With clash of cymbal and with beat of drum, With ivy wreath and verdant myrtle bough, With tossing arm and heaving breast! Evoe! GLAUCO Here, boy! That dish of lampreys I'll essay Again. And put that mullet by my side. Those locusts, too, place there. As I was saying, That nice discernment art alone attains Is won by long HERMOGENES Io! Bacche! Evoe! It is the ivy-crownéd god himself, With all his Bacchanals! O wondrous sight! Thou glittering pageant, feasting the eager eye! Thou golden dream of fantasy, I leap For joy! Evoe! Bacche! Io! Io! GLAUCO How tinsel catches a light soul! Hi, boy! Bring me those ortolans Hermogenes Insultingly forgets. HERMOGENES How they disport Themselves! O glorious rout! They sing, they dance, They shout and leap with mirth and passion! See! The Naiads to the fountains run! The Fauns Pursue and seize the yielding nymphs! Evoe! (First Chorus of Bacchanals) Io! Evan! Clash the cymbal! Crash the timbrel! Lash the drum! We come! We come! Io! Evan! Let the pipe shrill Through valley and hill! Io! Evan! Silenus and Pan, In the wild van, With riot and song, Ten thousand strong! Io! Evan! Bacchus, inspire! We breathe with thy fire! Io! Evan! He who would stay us Remember Pentheus! Io! Evan! Clash the cymbal! Crash the timbrel! Lash the drum! We come! We come! Io! Evan! (Second Chorus of Bacchanals) Io! Bacche! Io! Twi-mothered god, With ivy-wreathed rod! Io! Bacche! Io! Lord of the vine, Life of the wine, We are thine, we are thine! We run and we dance, We leap and we prance, The green turf on; White-footed Naiad, Light-footed Dryad, Goat-footed Faun! We turn and we twirl, As leaves when they whirl, As swift waters swirl In the eddy's embrace; We twist and we spin, Wind out and wind in In the maze of the race; We crouch and we spring, Our arms toss and fling; We shout and we sing To Bacchus, our king! With lips wide apart, With swift beating heart, Wildly we chant, Heavy we pant, The breath coming scant, As we leap and we prance, Rush back and advance, As we dance, as we dance, as we dance To Bacchus, our king! THAIS Thalarchus, thou art pale! CHARMIDES Critias, awake! The great god Bacchus comes! ANTIPHON Nor fire nor death Could rouse him now: his wits are drowned and sodden. A DRYAD (to Antiphon) I pluck thy beard, Tithonus. CHARMIDES Pluck it, fair nymph; Thou'lt never melt his snows; he's iced around With cold discretion twenty inches thick. DRYAD I'll be Aurora to his ancientness; I'll sit upon his knee and thaw him out. ANTIPHON Nay, wanton, scorch Charmides with thy flame; I'm old and seasoned now these sixty years I bear the buckler of experience Against thy shafts. THAIS Thalarchus, art thou ill? Thy hand is trembling, and thou spill'st the wine. ANTIPHON (to Dryad) Away, girl! The years have made me wise. CHARMIDES And sourer than an unripe grape. DRYAD No, no! How soft the silken silver of thy beard! Thy beard is older than thy face. Bacche! But thou'rt not old! Thou slanderest thyself; Thy skin's as soft as youth's, thine eye as clear. ANTIPHON Thou flatt'r'st me! DRYAD I do but see thee close; Take off thy beard, and thou'rt as young as any. ANTIPHON Now, now! dost thou say truly! THAIS Speak Thalarchus! Like chiselled marble thou dost stand and stare! THALARCHUS Where art thou, Thais? Charmides! Antiphon! Where are the lights that made our banquet blaze? How dim, how chill, like breath from sepulchres, This fetid air! THAIS I hold thee by the hand What spell is on him? ANTIPHON 'Tis the wine that mounts His brain, and weaves the foolish phantasy. THALARCHUS A mirk mist rises floating up as o'er A fen, and slowly moves and curls heavy And dun, yet ghastly with a bluish light As from a dying moonand in it, see! A shadow like a giant's! THAIS I see naught, Save feast and feasters, a round of mirth and joy, A full blown rose of pleasure. Come, shake off This most unnatural and deadly humour, This cankerous blight, this sick unwholesome dread That nips thy valour and thy wonted charm, And be thy gracious self again! THALARCHUS Hear'st not The rumble of vast voices gathering far, Like distant thunder in the womb of wrath! THAIS Naught but the songs of revel and of love, The joyous halloo of Bacchus and his crew, The cithern's silver cadence and the lute's, Free laughter and wild dalliance-echoing mirth. THALARCHUS Out of the muggy mist issues a stench, As from a thousand rotting carcasses. God! How it sickens the revolted sense! THAIS Nay! 'Tis but the odor of the rose That makes the air most redolently sweet; And yonder font of Araby's perfumes, Plashing and sparkling in its jewelled bay, Casting their precious scents upon the breeze. THALARCHUS The shadow deepens! See! The cloud now swirls And parts; and, topping o'er the misty rheum, A lofty pillar rears its stony crest. And on it, lo! the figure of a man, In suppliant attitude, all bent and bowed, As one crushed utterly! About him swarm And crowd a thousand hideous shapes, gibing And threatening! Horrible! Oh, horrible! DEMONS Stinking hypocrite! Bah! Think'st thou to atone for others? Thy frailty bear their sins! Bald fool on the pillar's top! Thou leprous scab of folly! Ha! ha! Hell shouts with laughter! SIMEON My God, my God! Help thou me in the trial! I faint with weakness! DEMONS He faints, the cowardly wretch! A little pain, and he falls down, O'ercome. Seize him, and rack him From head to foot. Crush him flat With hell's full vengeance. Shoot lightnings Through his spine, and in his eyeballs Spit keen fire to his brain. He'd make amends for other's sins, Would he? and bear the penalty, This lump of foulness, this filthy clay, This idiot on the pillar's top, Unshorn, unkempt, unwashed, Imputing sanctity to dirt! Drivelling fanatic! Hoary fool! SIMEON Upon thy merits, Lord, alone I lean: I have no strength but thine. Thou didst endure, Within the garden's keep, the agony Of sin's embrace, and felt its fetid breath Upon the mirror of thy purity; And all the reeking tide of evil poured Its slimy floods upon thee, stifling thee, Till nature, pushed beyond her durance, swooned And sweated blood through all thine aching veins! Pour from the precious treasury of thy pain Some little grace to stay my impotence! Fill up my emptiness with thy vast merit; For I but merit in thy merit, Lord, And gain but in thy gain. DEMONS Craven! poltroon! He's afraid; He dares not fight alone, And calls for aid upon another. We call upon no over-lord: Our strength's our own, all undivided! In independent might self-lords, We bend no cringing back, And lift no suppliant voice Whining to the tyrant! Upon him, Spirits of the Deep! Rend him! flay him with your teeth From head to heel, till the red flesh Quiver and palpitate! This For the lusts of Antioch! SIMEON They scourged thee at thy pillar, Lord, till Thou Didst stand in thine own blood. The knotted lash That flaked thy flesh awayO piteous sight! Was the red tooth of foul concupiscence; And Thou didst stand in patience and endure, Silent, the ravenous fang that bit and tore Thine innocence in offering for our sins! And from a thousand wounds thy mangled flesh Wept bloody streams upon the guilty earth! By thy fierce scourging, Lord, grant me new strength, And from the vessels of thy grace fill up My nothingness with power! DEMONS Again he seeks defence Behind another's might. The skulker! White-livered dotard! Dastard, we spit on thee! Hast thou not set thyself up On this high pillar's top, A shining mark of sanctity For all the country round, A protest and rebuke To lustful Antioch! And for its sins acceptest The rigorous penalties; Endurest wind and rain And storm and cold and heat For its soft luxuries; Sufferest the filth and dirt Of thy scab-crusted body, Fouling these long and tedious years, For its nice daintiness, Its sensual cleanliness; Bearest hunger and thirst For its vile gluttonies, Silence and solitude For its wild blasphemies And lascivious hours; The narrow prison of the pillar For its licentiousness! And thou'rt a saint, forsooth, And workest miracles, And hearest the people call thee saint, And pray to thee for help At thy tall pillar's base! A sorry saint, indeed, Who darest not own thy shadow, Nor comest forth to meet a foe Out of thine own valiance, But, supplicating, whinest A mongrel prayer to Heaven, Timid and trembling! Bah! Psalm-droner! Prayer-monger! Thou a saint! Ha! ha! SIMEON O Lord, upon thy handiwork look down With love's forbearing eye; for I am naught Within the searching splendour of thy sight, Whose vision equals to thyself alone, One Lord omnipotent and infinite, Maker of heaven and earth through thy sole Word! Within my mother's womb thou madest me, And out of the abyss of nothingness Didst give me being through very love!O Lord, My God, let me not fail to love again! And nourished me and cherished me, a babe, Who knew thee not, in helpless infancy, And guided me through all the wayward years Of youth, and led me wandering in the paths Of sin back to the bosom of thy mercy! Let me not fail, my God, nor deem myself Before thee aught but thy poor creature, dust And ashes in thy hand! DEMONS Grovellor! Abject worm, In vile abasement crawling! Cracked vessel of dishonour! Upon him, Spirits! Befoul him With utmost stench and filth! Traitor to his manhood! Betrayer of his sovereign will! Thou mimic of a saint! Thou manikin! Despiser Of the sacred precious gift Of freedom, kept by us alone Intact against the tyrant! SIMEON O Lord, Thou dost solicit me with love, And gently knockest at my heart, calling Upon me sweetly! And I may close the door Against Thee, Lord, and answer not; for Thou, O Lord, respectest in thy handiwork The gift of freedom, which Thou didst bestow Upon Thy creature, who but holds as he Receives from Thee. And when, O Lord, I bid Thee come, moved by thy blandishment, Thou com'st In the swift whirlwind of thy love, and snatch'st Me up in ecstasy, and hold'st me ravished With love! For I am thine, O Lord, by right Of sovereignty; and Thou art mine by might Of love! Thou gavest me myself, O Lord, And hold'st me in the hollow of Thy hand, Suspended o'er the void of nothingness; And then Thou gavest me thyself, O Lord, Pouring thy goodness upon me like a flood Of pleasant waters on a barren plain! And Thou hast bought me with a price, O Lord And, in the covenant of Christ made flesh, Hast pledged thyself to me, and feedest me Upon thyself, till I abide in Thee, And Thou in me; whereof in Thee I find The fulness of all love, the round and sum Of all desire! for in Thee, Lord, I am And have my life, and move, O Lord, in Thee, Who art our perfect good and perfect love, First impulse and last term of liberty. For I, O Lord, am as a little child, And Thou the eager mother of the child, Who first instils in him desire to walk, And leads him by the hand that he may walk, Then kisses him, rewarding him, because He walked, who neither had desire to walk, Save through the inspiration of her love, Nor yet had walked save by her guiding hand, And still withal of his own motion walked; For thine the grace, O Lord, that moves, and thine The grace that aids, and thine the guerdoning grace, That crowns thy creature's free response, who moves To Thee by love divine solicited, And rests in Thee by love divine rewarded. DEMONS Caviller! Word-monger! Hoary sophist fouling Man's limpid intelligence with murky phrases; Clouding the crystal brightness Of independent reason With muddy mysteries! We'll teach thee proper pride For the high dignity Of outraged intellect Betrayed and surrendered By thee in shameless fear, To be tramped mockingly Under the Tyrant's feet! Lift him in mid-air By the heels and dash him down Upon the rocks beneath, Smashing his foolish skull, Scattering the muddled brains, That shame the high prerogative And abase the lofty puissance Of man's lordly mind Rush upon him! Sweep him off! THALARCHUS My God, my God, let not the malignant host Prevail! THAIS Of whom, Thalarchus, speakest thou? ANTIPHON There is some maggot in his o'erwrought brain, That feeds upon his reason; let be, let be, He'll mend by morning. THALARCHUS Like a surcharged cloud, Green with the sulphurous wrath of pent lightnings, They gather round him, ominous, muttering! And now with sudden fury unleash upon him! O God!See, they touch him not! but break Against the pillar's edge as the giant sea Flinging against a beetling cliff is stayed Roaring, and beaten back draws to the deep Again, foaming in angry impotence! SIMEON Thy brows were crowned with thorns, my God, piercing Thy temples with their spikes, and all around Thy head circled the barren coronal Pressed by the ribald soldiers' cruel staves Into the bruiséd flesh. This mock, O Lord, Thou didst endure in silent humbleness, And wore this leafless diadem of pride For sins of those, who insolently boast The shallow plummet of their little minds Sounding the muddy waters of time's sea, Above the immeasurable, sacrosanct Eternal Reason of their God filling The crystal oceans of the infinite. Hear me, O Lord, and let thy strength be mine! Lift thou me up to thy humility, Who only knows to conquer through thy pain! And in the bloody wine spilled from the vine, Whose bitter thorns envised thy tender brows, Sustain my weakness, and thy pardon pour Upon the pride of boastful Antioch! THALARCHUS His prayer prevails! Their horrid ranks repulsed, Staggered and broken, scatter like thinning rack Before the first keen breath of crystal winds Clearing the labouring heavens. DEMONS (retiring) Not through thy might, Simeon, Is our due vengeance stayed: Another's power holds us, Tyrannously thrusts us back. Our valour undismayed Yields only for the moment. We'll come again new armed, And crush thee flat against The earth, and stamp thee down Into the mire, like dung! SIMEON Now praise to Thee, O Lord, my God, all praise! For thine the power and thine the glory, Lord, Who sittest on the Cherubim, the earth Thy lowly footstool and the heavens thy throne! Before thy servant Thou didst hold thy shield Against the demons' power, and Hell prevailéd not! For who shall stand against thy might, O Lord? Before thy wrath the heavens are shrivelled, The earth is smoke, and all the goods thereof; The sun goes out in darkness, and the stars Flicker and die; time like a spent breath Evanishes, and space through all its utmost bounds Shrinks shuddering! Nor earth, nor heaven, nor hell May stand before thee, Lord, eterne and sole, Coequal with thyself alone in being, In power, in love and goodness infinite, Perfect and absolute and all-sufficient Within thyself who art eternal good! But thou, O Lord, wilt not destroy thy works: Thou lov'st the goodly order of thy hand, And out of the disorder of our sins Hast drawn still sweeter harmonies of love Through him thine only Son, consubstant God With Thee, who stooping to our lowliness Lifted our nature to thy holiness, And spanned the chasm in nature and in grace, Which sin had breached through all our universe; And, bearing all the burden of our fault, Made gracious healing in vicarious pain, Consummate in the awful sacrifice Upon Golgotha's trembling mount, when all The elements made moan, and stricken Nature, Sighing through all her ways, in darkness veiled Her conscious eyes! Through Him, O Lord, the power, By Him the victory, and unto Him The glory! I but a shaken reed fearful Before the blast, broken, save for thy hand Sheltering thy creature's weakness in the storm. THALARCHUS Oh, how sublime his words, how great the power Thereof, scattering the hellish crew like dust In the whirlwind, beating their malice down As the keen hail levels the boastful pride Of summer fields! O mystery of pain And death, that issuest in power and life, Grant me to see! Upon my purblind heart Pour down thy deep irradiance, and pierce The fetid exhalations of my sins, That blind the soul's uncleansed and rheumy eye! Inflame me with desire, and purge me clean In penitential fires, till I, too, learn To love as Simeon, a holocaust in Christ For wanton Antioch's iniquities! Simeon, upon thy pillar's top pray thou For me, who mocked thee and thy God, and knew Thee not, nor him, and knowing not, reviled And called thee fool, fanatic, dotard, dolt, And heaped upon thee all the ribaldry Of the contemptuous world, the scorn of pride, The scoff, the jest, the easy ridicule Of sensual hearts, whose unpurged lust feeling The secret sting of others' holiness, As the sharp thorn beneath the rose, resents The silent imputation of its guilt, And brooking not the impeachment of its shame, With pitchy tongue envenomed in foul hates, Spits out the bawdy mockeries of its filth Upon the lilies of love's sanctities. O Simeon, pray for me, whose sins thou takest In suffering upon the pillar's height, Under the pitiless sun, the icy stars, In pangs of nature and assaults of hell; Pray thou for me, who from the depths below Cries out in agonies of shame and calls In Christ's dear name for mercy and for pardon! SIMEON I hear a voice as of one calling out And beating at the gates of mercy! Lord, Hear him and open unto him! THAIS Who is't His madness now addresses? ANTIPHON One, Simeon, They call the Stylite, an idiot monk, who lives Upon a pillar's top near Antioch, Some twenty miles beyond the city's gates. THAIS I've heard the rumour of this strange disease. SIMEON Lord, by thy bloody sweat, have mercy, Lord! ANTIPHON Under the subtle witchery of the wine This monkish madness has seized upon his wits, And holds his fancy: it will pass anon. SIMEON By thy red scourging at the pillar, Lord, Have mercy! Let his cry come unto Thee! CHARMIDES Heed not Thalarchus, Thais: to-morrow's morn Will see his health restored.Come, I pledge Thy beauty in this draught! THAIS I'll drink with thee! Let Bacchus blow the fire and Venus lead! SIMEON Hearken unto Thy creature's cry, O Lord! Gird not the bowels of mercy up, but hear! For Thou has said, Whoso shall knock, to him Shall it be opened. By the clotted thorns About thy brow, the raillery and the mock Of Pilate's soldiers spitting on Thee, Lord, Incline unto thy creature's lowliness, Who cries to thee from out the depths, and calls Unto the ear of thy compassion, Lord; For Thou didst take our frailty on thyself In pity of our sins. THALARCHUS Blessed be thou, O Simeon, thrice blessed thou who pray'st For me sunk in the foulness of my sins! SIMEON Thou wilt not, Lord, refuse a contrite heart; And Thou didst pardon Mary Magdalene, Who wept her sorrow on thy sacred feet, And him who cried to Thee beside thy cross; And Thou didst heal the lepers of their sores, Till they were fair to look upon; and him That lay asick of bed, thou didst unloose Of all his sins and bid him rise and walk; For thou didst come with healing in thy hands And mercy unto life again for them That would arise from out their sinfulness To walk with thee. DEMONS (in distance) He's winning Thalarchus from us! Let him not prevail! Curse him! Were't not for the Despot's power, Who tyrannously holds us back, We'd snatch and lift his column In mid-air, and dash it to earth And smash it, and him with it, Who now, on his filthy eerie Of vantage, drones his prayers To listening Heaven against Our valour and our might! We ask but a fair field To smite him down and crush him! This vagabond of sanctity! Let him go back to his cell And mumble his unctuous prayers In secret to his fattened God. Hate seize us and rack us At mention of that name! Let him not stand conspicuous Upon the pillar's top before The people, to seduce them From their soft living And mellowed luxuries By his austere ensample Of dire mortification And penance vicarious! 'Tis against the cloister's rule: Why do they tolerate it? But we'll o'ercome him yet: Hell's not easily foiled! We have an arrow left In our quiver to pierce him. Ha! ha! we know a way To snare this filthy bird, And drag him from his nest. Ha! ha! we'll show him yet The craft of independent Intellect he so derides And flouts in abject obeisance To the Tyrant he worships! Ha! ha! We know a way to lime him! We'll double on the ancient fox Before he runs to earth again! SIMEON Let him not perish, Lord, who calls on Thee! As Thou didst suffer Simon to take Thy cross Upon the heavy way to Calvary, Though asking not, yet after bearing gladly, Suffer Thy creature now who pleads with thee, To share its burden humbly, Lord, with thee, And out of the vast fulness of thy love Draw balm and healing for his sinful hurts. On me, O Lord, the creature of thy hand, Who am as nothing in thy sight, the least Of those who serve Thee, of infirmities Full as a sieve of meshes holding nought, On me, O Lord, the fellow of his hour, His country, and his city, pour the pain Of his offending, till thy justice shifts Her beam and balances her scale again In full amend of penance done. And this, O Lord, prostrate before thee in the dust Of mine unworthiness, mote in the breath Of thine infinitude, I humbly pray Out of the preciousness of Christ's spent blood, Which purchased us with ransom infinite, Eternal price of Adam's and our sin! DEMONS (approaching) Woe! woe! we're overcome, Routed by Simeon's prayer! Great is his holiness, That conquereth our might, Lords of the deep with power O'er hell's dominion wide; Spirits of darkness knowing The potent secrets of nature, Seducing the lordly race Of men to open rebellion Against their Maker. Woe! woe! Our pride is fallen, our boast Is broken, crushed down flat By Simeon's might in prayer. Woe to us, woe! Keener Than pangs of hell the shame Of defeat by Simeon brought Upon our puissant ranks Broken against the rampart Of his potent prayer, As the dusty simoon breaks Against the bulwarked mountain! Woe! woe! O shameful woe! Hate unto him forever! SIMEON Bear down upon me, Lord, bear down and plunge Me in the abyss of emptiness, whence I Was drawn by Thee, the creature of thy love! The clamour of hell is but a noisy wind Before Thee, vain as froth upon the wave. The arrow of their hate they aim at Thee, I but the seeming mark. For Thine, O Lord, The power that scatters them; and they, O Lord, As I, are but the creatures of thy breath, Hardened against Thee in their pride, envious Of man whom thou hast made to fill their place. And I am but an empty vessel filled With the omnipotence of prayer, which Thou In largess of thy love hast poured in me; And sufferest me to use against their power, Whose damning praise is but the silken snare Of flattery, with which bold Satan once Essayed to take the soul of Christ himself! And Christ's the glory sole against the power Of hell broken by him forever! DEMONS (on right side, disguised now as Angels of Light) Hail, Simeon, victor o'er the hellish host! By Heaven sent, we come to solace thee With happy tidings and assurance glad Of Heaven's high approval. Thou hast fought The goodly fight and won. Hail to thee, saint! SIMEON Now praise to Jesus Christ alone! To Him The glory, whose right hand of power reaches To midmost hell! DEMONS (on left side, undisguised) Why speaks he the Terrible Name, That makes all hell shudder Unto its deepest deeps! Curse it! curse it! curse it! DEMONS (on right side) Rest thee, Simeon; for thou hast earned thy meed. Behold the raging elements repressed, Which hell with malice vain against thee roused. And all the air that lately shook with storm And roared, rent with the crackling thunderbolt, Slumbers in mellow quiet and breathes soft balm. Down from the glowing arches of the night, Peace, dovelike on her rediscovered nest, In feathery silence droops, and dreaming broods; Tender as mothers' eyes upon their babes, And pure, the glimmering ardour of the stars Falls on the shadowed earth and wearied men Sunk in the bath of slumber after toil, To wake upon the coming morn refreshed Against the burden of the hastening day. All nature sleeps and rests, drawing new life From the deep fountains of repose; for so The wisdom of the Maker foreordained, Dividing night from day. Rest thee, and sleep, O holy Simeon, while we watch and guard. SIMEON The rounded beauty of the night, thy hand, O Lord, in the beginning builded up, And fixed the pillars of the firmament, And gave their motions to the wheeling stars, Making thy glory manifest on high: Thy word uttered above the void brought forth The solid earth and all that live thereon, The circling seas and all that swim therein, The liquid air and all that fly therein, Each in its place and moving in its sphere With variant note blending concordant song, And making in the conchéd ear of Heaven Vast harmony. And so the whole round world And the respondent heavens, O Lord, utter Thy glory and make manifest thy praise! For thine the gentle silence of the night, And thine the softness of the balmy air, And thine the sweet refreshment of repose And strength renewed in man and beast and fowl; And thine the glory of the golden morn, And all the splendour of the rising sun Shedding the benediction of its light Upon the waking world. DEMONS (on right side) Nay, holy man, Rest thee; and whilst thou slumberest, drawing New vigour from the crystal fonts of sleep, We'll raise on high the hymn of praise. THALARCHUS Simeon, Pray thou for me, and at the feet of Christ Make intercession for my grievous sins! DEMONS (on right side) Thou'rt wearied, Simeon, and thy force is spent. The very desert sleeps, and darkness shrouds The land heavy with silence, wooing all To rest. Deep is the shadow of the night, And nature yields responsive to the law Ordained in the beginning. Spent art thou With battling 'gainst the routed hosts of hell, And all thy racked and bruiséd frame leaden With weight of toil drags down thy spirit worn With unremitted prayer against thy foe. Respite thy vigilance and prayerful might; And to great nature's hest surrendering, In due obedience to its Maker's law, In slumber steep thy flagging powers, and rest. THALARCHUS Simeon, Simeon, pray thou for me whose heart Is withered with his sins! ANTIPHON The night hath past The middle heavens two hours and more: 'tis late. I go. Farewell, good friends. CHARMIDES Love knows no hour: I stay with thee, Thais, be it night or day. THAIS Now is the ripened hour of revel. Stay, O Antiphon, and drink with me! I touch Thy goblet with my lips. Wilt not refuse My pledge! ANTIPHON I yield the golden moment, Thais, And staying court the precious, sweet delay. THALARCHUS Simeon, Simeon, pray thou for me whose soul Lies in the darkness of its evil days! SIMEON Let him not perish, Lord, whose voice I hear Out of the night in supplication raised! Renew his heart, and thy refreshment pour Upon his bruiséd spirit crying out! If Thou, O Lord, wilt mark iniquities, Lord, who shall stand? Spare us, and gather not Our sins against the day of wrath, but hear, O Lord, and let our prayer come unto thee! Thy mercy, Lord is even above thy works; And thou hast made thy mercy manifest In Christ, who stood for our iniquities, And took our sins away! Have mercy, Lord, And by Christ's blood hearken unto our cry! DEMONS (on left side) Confusion upon him! Tempt him! Let him not escape! Tempt him! DEMONS (on right side) Heaven commend thy vigilance, O saint, And we but tried thee for the Lord. The voice Thou hearest crying is the voice of one Who prays in Antioch, by Heaven's power Permitted through the thick and heavy night To see thee on the pillar's top, and, touched By grace at sight of thee, cries out for pardon. The ways of Heaven are merciful, nor time Nor place resists the beating floods of grace Poured from the copious fountains of its love: E'en in the midst of riot and of sin The impetuous tide of mercy snatches him, And bears him to the deeps of love beyond. And Heaven, to solace thee in recompense Of all thou hast endured and overcome, Puts back the murky curtain of the dark, And suffers thee to look upon the scene: Behold Thalarchus and the wanton feast, Where thou hast conquered and beat back the lords Of hell! Look, Simeon, and rejoice! THALARCHUS Pray, pray, O Simeon; for my heart is dust, my soul Ashes, and all my years but bitterness! SIMEON The Lord will water thee and make thee sprout; For He is Lord of love. Mighty His power, That overcometh death and puts down sin Under his feet! How wonderful thy ways, O Lord, and no man knoweth them; for who Hath been thy counsellor? For of thee, Lord, And by thee are all things, and in thee all, Who are from the beginning sole, and are Eternal term unto thyself alone! Praise ye the Lord, ye heavenly creatures, praise! Ye Cherubim and Seraphim and Powers And all Angelic Hierarchies ranged In flaming choirs, and all ye blessed hosts And saints that bask within his beam eterne, Ye spotless lilies of Christ's fruitful love, Praise ye the Lord through all your ringing ranks! And thou, whose virgin flesh didst bear His Son, Alone of Adam's race untouched of sin, Co-worker in Redemption's plan by grace Of Him who had regard for thy humility, And lifted thee above all creatures else In Heaven's celestial ranks or on the earth Unto that dignity of motherhood So sacrosanct that none save Him alone May comprehend the height and depth and term Of its exalted holiness,praise ye The Lord! Rejoice and be glad with me Who, falling down before His Face, lift up My voice and cry out in exceeding joy, Seeing this marvel of the Lord's right hand! For wonderful the starry heavens above, The unseen fountains of the crystal sea, The far foundations of the fixéd earth, The little things and great of all that is, The tiny creature floating in the light, The spaces of the yawning universe, And time's wide tract from utmost shore to shore Of his eternity so wonderful And beautiful in number, weight, and measure, Balanced within his all-sustaining hand, And moving in the order of his power To that ordainéd and harmonious end Set in His wisdom for their perfect close, Praise ye the Lord for these His mighty works, But praise ye more beyond all praise of words, Beyond all utterance of human tongue, Beyond the vastest reach of angel's thought, That mystery of grace and farthest love, Touching the sinner's hard averted will, Subduing pride and melting all the soul To tears, till it incline to him again; And spurning all its hated servitude, Inviolate of all constraint, rises Enfranchised from its reeking bed of sin And freely answers to the call of Love! O wondrous miracle, O mystery Of Love beyond all knowing! Praise ye The Lord, ye hills and mountains, valleys and plains, O earth and heaven, and ye shining stars, Ye blessed hosts of happiness, ye Powers, Ye Dominations, Angels and Archangels, Till all the universe of high and low Trembling, responsive with the harmony In circling joy about the throne of Love, Sing in the swelling chorus of its praise, Hosanna to the Lord! Hosanna! Hosanna! THALARCHUS O waters of great joy upon my soul, Refreshing all my faintness! On the wings Of morning am I lifted up! O balm Of healing to my wounded spirit! Simeon, Thy words are holy courage in my heart! DEMONS (on left side) Confusion on him! Tempt him! He prays like a mighty fountain Leaping to Heaventempt him! Ye sluggish spirits, shame On your vaunted cunning, boasters! Shall it be said in hell That this broken and wasted fool Worsted the high intelligence Of pure spirits heaven-born, Though cast out by the Tyrant By sheer forceshame us not! Make no delay! Tempt him! And in this subtle net Drag him from his high perch! DEMONS (on right side) Thy prayers have wrenched Thalarchus from the grip Of hell e'en midst the orgies of the feast! Upon thy victory feed thine eager soul; For Heaven vouchsafes this sweet reward. Behold The banquet's vast luxuriance scattered By prodigality with wanton hands Careless of use. The enamoured heavy air, Pregnant with perfume of a thousand flowers, Falling in flaky rain from unseen hands, Melts all the soul to indolence, and soothes The swooning sense; the fountains plash and murmur In dreamy rhythm on the drowsy ear, Blending with throbbing music soft and low, Whose gentle cadences, from fretted string And oaten stop blowing its mellow sound, Mingle their dulcet harmonies, stealing Into the brain and mellowing the spirit To sensuous languors. See, around about A thousand lamps, feeding on scented oils In jewelled transparencies encaged, throw out Their irised radiance, shedding warmth and light Upon the gleaming marbles of the hall, Teeming with mirth and revelry and love. Rest thee, O Simeon, a little moment here; And let thy wearied eye, that naught beholds Save blinding leagues of sandy wastes stretching Beneath the beating glare of desert suns, Couch now an instant on the mellow scene. SIMEON Bleak were thy hills, O Judah, when He came, My Lord and God, unsheltered from the winds, Save for the lonely stable's broken thatch; And for his tender limbs the manger's straw, Cropped by the dumb, unconscious brutes, that shared His lowliness. Cast out by men, he found Rude habitation with the beasts alone; Nor light nor warmth diffused their tenderness Around, nor ministrant were servile hands In purple and fine linen to array His innocence. He came unto his own, And they received him not, and knew him not, Rejected and despised of men. O Lord, My God, e'en in the cradle thou didst choose The way of sorrow, and, a babe, espouse The bitter bride of poverty, to point The way of those who love. O Holy Babe, So low in thy humility that man, By thine ensample, may be lifted up, Raise us from out this slough of wantoness, And by the desolation of thy crib Forgive us this our sin's luxurious ease! THALARCHUS O Christ, thy poverty be mine! DEMONS (on right side) The savour of rare viands rise up to whet The appetite, and moist the wrinkled lip Of hunger with sharp longing. SIMEON Thou, O Lord, Didst fast within the desert forty days, And Satan tempted thee! DEMONS (on right side) Thy throat is parched, And all thy tongue aflame with thirst; for dry And hot the air under the desert sun, And small the share of water brought to thee By thy forgetful brethren of the cells. Packed in its snowy bed the crater stands, And cool the wine upon the crackled lip; Refreshing is the sweet, red draught charging The feverish veins with ruddy life again. SIMEON When thou, O Lord, upon thy cross didst cry, "I thirst," they gave thee vinegar and gall. DEMONS (on right side) Thou'rt ever mindful, Simeon, of thy Lord; And valorous art thou in thy vigilance. All heaven rejoices in thy holiness. Thalarchus thou hast won by dint of prayer Accepting all the burden of his sins. For this high Heaven permitted the assault Of hell to-night to try thy fortitude; And gloriously hast thou conquered, Simeon. And now let not thy charity wane cold; But as the imperial sun in heaven's high arch, Whose glowing eye looks down upon the earth's Outstretched demesne from morn's to eve's red marge, And sheds celestial heats on all alike, So let the furnace of thy saintly love Beam down its radiance on all sinners here. Have pity on them, Simeon, and draw from Heaven, Through the vicarious offering of thyself, Pardon and mercy. Heaven will hear; for what More grateful in heaven's eye, after the Lord's Own sacrifice, the source and root of all, Than the abandonment of utter love Making atonement for another's sin? For greater love than that a man lay down His life for other, no man hath. SIMEON Yea, Lord, Thy life Thou didst lay down for each and all, Thy love immeasurable, and as thy love Thy sacrifice. And Thou wast lifted up To draw all things to Thee, and, drawing, win The hearts of men to sacrifice of self, And lose themselves in love of Thee, to find Themselves in Thee transfigured! I, O Lord, Seek only Thee, and them in Thee, and Thee In them, whom Thou hast bought with a great price! Thou callest them, O Lord: grant them to hear! And in thy mercy lift them up! DEMONS (on right side) Simeon, Behold Thais, the chiefest sinner here, Steeped in the slumber of the wine! Pray thou For her, a sinful daughter of weak Eve. Let not such beauty be the prey of hell! Not Eve herself came from her Maker's hand More fair. Slipped from the fillet's amorous clasp, Her locks, like silken gold from looms of light, Shower down a streaming glory gleaming about The whiteness of her shoulder's ivory arch, As star-shafts on the billow's crested foam; Her lips incarnadine, her flushed cheek SIMEON They gashed thy hands and feet with nails, O Lord, And, lifting up thy heavy gibbet, plunged It in its earthy socket shuddering, Tearing thy tender, gaping wounds anew, And racking all thy jarred and bruiséd frame With sudden agony! Pierce me, O Lord, With that fierce pain, and rack this recreant flesh, The weak inheritance of Adam's sin, That through thy merit I may somewise share With thee the dire atonement of her sin! DEMONS (on left side) He escapes! Confusion and shame! He escapes! DEMONS (on right side, throwing off disguise) We are baffled! The Tyrant suffers us not To gain one slightest foothold Within the circle of his soul! DEMONS (on left side) Upon him! Seize him! Tear him! Smash his pillar! DEMONS (on right side) Unleash your pent rage like hail! Assault him and crush him! Come! Let all rush on like furious fire! THALARCHUS All hell vomits itself upon him! Lord, Thy servant guard! Portentous they loom, monstrous, In size giants, in shape most horrible; With eyes of fire and wide outstretching vans With flaming lightnings veined, onward they sweep, As though to engulf the world in hellish storm! But no! See, Heaven forbids! They sway! They stop! And now as swollen clouds, pregnant with death, Meeting an adverse wind, are stayed and blown back, Their dreadful host, sullen and muttering, Recede before the breath of Heaven! And, lo! They melt away into the empty air! (Enter XENARES) XENARES My lord, the night is dying in the west, And dawn appears. The guests are gone, save those Who lie here drowned in wine. The air is dank With poisonous humours of the heavy morn, And thou art pale. Wilt go within? THALARCHUS 'Tis gone! Evanished! O gracious vision by Heaven vouchsafed! XENARES What, my lord? THALARCHUS The wonder of it! XENARES My lord, Wilt come within? 'Tis damp: thou'rt ill. THALARCHUS I am, Xenares, ill and well. XENARES How's that, my lord? THALARCHUS Ill with the past, and well with what's to come. XENARES My lord, I do not understand. THALARCHUS Last night Thou saw'st me ill. XENARES Nay, my good lord, never Did health mantle more ruddy in thy cheek, Nor shine so proudly in thine eye. THALARCHUS Yet was I ill; Sick unto death! Ill in the lustful riot Of misspent days, those precious pearls of time, Which I, with wanton and regardless hand, Flung on the dung-heaps of this wasteful world; But now, Xenares, well in the high hope Of Simeon's prayers and mine own penitence Rooted within the rich, most precious earth Of Christ's vast charity. XENARES May't please thee, sir, To go within? THALARCHUS No, Xenareshear me: Of all my goods take inventory: pay What I may owe out of my fortune's wreck, Reserving for thyself a moiety To keep thee from the fangs of beggary. What may remain, give to the poor. To-day I manumit thee: thou art free. I know Thy worth and honest heart, and so repose My trust. I go from Antioch. XENARES Indeed, My lord, thou'rt very ill. I pray thee THALARCHUS Nay, Be not thus urgent. Hence I go forever. I've quitted me the burden of this world. The brave apparel of its swelling pride I here discard, resigning all its pomp, Its purfled show, and strutting pageantry. And I, who clothed me in its trumperies, And waxed on all its fustianed vanities As flaunting weeds upon the mucky earth, These many and gross years, pitiless Now scythe the rank and vicious growth, whose bane So long infected all the blood, and killed The tender shoots of virtue in the soul. Behold, Xenares, how the sober dawn, In ghostly vapours creeping up the east, Unmasks the glamour of the dying night, And on the sodden ashes of our feast, That flamed in furious riot this little while, Spreads pale and gray as ghastly death Upon the face of one who yields his soul. So pass the sudden heats of time, the lusts Of appetite, the hunger of possession, Ambition's passion, love's desire,all, Yes, all that men, unrecking lower things By higher lights, set heart upon below, Mere bavin for the fiery tongue of change, Scarce kindled ere in ashes! I've seen This night, Xenares, through high Heaven's mercy, That which has shaken all my soul and torn From out its ancient roots my tree of life To plant anew in other soil, with hope Of fruit celestial! For now I know, My soul illumined by that kindly beam, The deep philosophy of poverty, The wealth of having naught, the precious gain Of self-surrender, riches infinite, Out of the nothingness of this base earth Transmuted in th' alembic of God's love! 'Tis this I seek. Farewell: I go, Xenares, and return no more. XENARES My lord, my lord! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LEDA 2: A NOTE ON VISITATIONS by LUCILLE CLIFTON HELSINKI, 1940 by ANSELM HOLLO THE LOW BLACK SQUARE by ANSELM HOLLO AMUSING OUR DAUGHTERS by CAROLYN KIZER POET AND PERSON by DENISE LEVERTOV AFTER THE GUEST; FOR MY BROTHER by GREGORY ORR A FABLE FOR LYDIA by CONDE BENOIST PALLEN |
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