Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE DEATH-STONE, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE DEATH-STONE, by                    
First Line: What though the vapors of the fleeting screen
Last Line: She spake and vanished into thinnest air
Subject(s): "buddhism;death Stone (legendary Stone);legends, Japan;" Buddha;buddhists


DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

THE SPIRIT OF THE "FLAWLESS JEWEL MAIDEN.''
THE BUDDHIST PRIEST GEN-O.
THE CHORUS.

Priest.—What though the vapors of the fleeting scene
Obscure the view of pilgrims here below;
With heart intent on heav'nly things unseen,
I take my journey through this world of woe.
I am a priest, and Gen-o is my name. With a heart ever fixed on the path of
wisdom, I had long groaned over the imperfection of my spiritual insight. But
now I see clear, and, with the sacerdotal besom, I shall sweep the cobwebs from
the eyes of men. After sojourning in the province of Michinoku, I would now fain
turn my steps towards the capital, and there pass the winter season of
meditation. I have crossed the river Shirakawa, and have arrived at the moor of
Nasu, in the Province of Shimotsuké.
Alas! the vapors of the fleeting scene
Obscure the view of pilgrims here below;
Strike out the hope in heav'nly things unseen,
What guide were left us through this world of woe?
Spirit.—Rest not under the shadow of this stone!
Priest.—Wherefore not? Is there any reason for not resting under
the shadow of this stone?
Spirit.—Yes; this is the Death-stone of the moor of Nasu; and not
men only, but birds even and beasts perish if they approach it.
Needs there my warning? Hast thou not heard tell
Of Nasu's Death-stone, and its fatal spell?
I entreat thee, depart!
Priest.—What is it that maketh this stone so eager to take life?
Spirit.—It is that into it, in the olden time, entered the spirit
of her who was called the "Flawless Jewel Maiden,'' concubine to the Emperor
Toba-no-in.
Priest.—Into this stone? on this far-distant road?
Methought Kiyoto was in the girl's abode.
Spirit.—Verily, it is because there is a reason for this that the
story hath been handed down from the olden time.
Priest.—Thy words and thine appearance seem to tell me that thou
knowest this story.
Spirit.—No! no! I know it but in outline. Fleeting as the dew is
the memory of the maiden's fate.
Erst through the King's abode,
Proudly the maiden strode,
But on this desolate road,
Now doom'd to dwell,
Crime upon crime she heaps,
Vainly the pilgrim weeps,
Cursing with dying lips,
The fatal spell!
Chorus.—The Death-stone stands on Nasu's mcor
Through winter snows and summer heat;
The moss grows grey upon its sides,
But the foul demon haunts it yet.
Chill blows the blast: the owl's sad choir
Hoots hoarsely through the moaning pines;
Among the low chrysanthemums
The skulking fox, the jackal whines.
Fair was the girl,—beyond expression fair;
But what her country, who her parents were
None knew. It seems as if the misty space
Beyond the clouds must be the native place
Of one who, soon as shown to mortal sight,
Ascended straightway to the cloudy height.
For not in vain were beauty's charms display'd
Before th' Imperial eyes: so fair a maid
Was surely born to share a monarch's bed.
Spirit.—Once did the Emperor's Majesty see fit
To put to proof the lovely damsel's wit.
Cho.—Nor did she fail in aught: the sacred text
Which guides our steps through this world to the next,
The Chinese classics, too, Confucian lore,
Japan's sweet poets of the days of yore,—
She knew them all, nor was it all she knew,
For she herself was bard and seer too.
Spirit.—A mind so flawless in a form so fair
Deserved the name her lord then gave to her.
Cho.—Once the Mikado made a splendid feast
At the cool summer-palace: every guest
That of accomplishments or wit could boast
Was bidden there—a gay and brilliant host,
Like to the clouds, from out whose fleecy sphere
Th' Imperial kindred, like the moon, shone clear.
But hark! what rumor mingles with the strains
Of sweetest music? see! the heav'nly plains
Are wrapp'd in inky darkness. Not a star—
The moon not risen yet: but from afar,
Heralded by the rustling of the shower,
The storm comes howling through the festive bower.
The lanterns are blown out: "A light! a light!''
Cry all at once; but from the pitchy night
No answer comes to soothe their anxious fright.
But lo! from out the "Jewel Maiden's'' frame
There's seen to dart a weirdly lustrous flame!
It grows, it spreads, it fills th' Imperial halls:
The painted screens, the gilt and damask'd walls.
The very trees, erst plung'd in blackest night,
Sparkle and glitter in the lurid light.
Spirit.—That hour the fiend's foul witchcraft was revealed.
Cho.—That hour the fiend's foul witchcraft was revealed.
The subtle venom noiselessly instilled
Into her lordly lover's pearly frame
Prey'd on his vitals like a burning flame.
Then spake the Court Magician: "Without doubt
That harlot is the culprit: cast her out!
Drive her away! Seest not the impish plan
Laid to destroy thy crown and Great Japan?''
Resentment dire then fills th' Imperial breast:
He now hates most what once he loved the best.
Driven with curses from the monarch's door,
The witch now haunts this drear and distant moor.
Priest.—Thou hast deigned to tell me this long history—who
art thou?
Spirit.—Wherefore any longer conceal it? The demon that of old
dwelt in the breast of the "Flawless Jewel Maiden,'' and that now inhabits the
Death-stone of the moor of Nasu, is none other than myself.
Priest.—Speakest thou truly? Well! well! it is the soul sunk
lowest in the depths of wickedness that rises highest on the pinnacle of virtue.
I will bestow on thee the priestly robe and begging-bowl. But thou must
reveal thyself to mine eyes in thy proper shape.
Spirit.—Alas! what sorrow and confusion!

In the garish light of day
My body fades away,
Like Mount Asama's fires:
With the night I'll come again,
Confess my sins with pain
And new-born pure desires.
Cho.—Dark will be the night:
But her red lustrous light
Ne'er needs the moon.
Wait! fear not! she cries,
Watch on with trusting eyes:
My hour'll come soon.

(The Spirit vanishes into the Stone.)
Priest.—'Tis said of stocks and stones: they have no soul.
Yet, what signifieth the text: "Herbs and trees, stones and rocks, shall
all enter into Nirvana,'' save that from the beginning a divine essence dwelt
within them? No! if I bestow on this demon the sacerdotal robe and bowl, who can
doubt but that for it, too, Nirvana will throw open its gates? Therefore, with
offerings of flowers and of fragrant incense, I recite the Scriptures with my
face turned towards the stone, and I exorcise it thus:
Spirit of the Death-stone! I conjure thee: whence comest thou?
Why cumberest thou the earth?
Tarry not! reveal thyself! reveal thyself!
E'en for such as thee mine intercessions shall cause
Nirvana to fling open its gates.
E'en such as thou shalt put on the majesty of a god.
Hear me! hear me!

(The Stone is rent asunder, and the Demon issues from it.)

Spirit.—In stones there are spirits:
In the waters is a voice heard:
The winds blow across the firmament!
Cho.—Oh! horror! horror!
The Death-stone's rent in twain;
The Demon stands revealed!
Priest.—Oh! horror! horror!
The Death-stone's rent in twain;
O'er moor and field
A lurid glare
Burns fierce. There stands revealed
A fox—and yet again
The phantom seems to wear
The aspect of a maiden fair!
Spirit.—No more the mystery can be concealed.
I am she, who first, in Ind, was the demon to whom Prince Han-zoku paid
homage at the murderous mound. In Great Cathay, I took the form of Ho-ji,
consort of the Emperor Yu-o; and at the Court of the Rising Sun I was the
"Flawless Jewel Maiden,'' concubine to the Emperor Toba-no-In.
Intent on the destruction of the crown and empire of Japan, I assumed the
shape of a fair maiden, whose presence caused the Imperial person to languish in
disease. Already was I exulting in the thought of sending him to the grave, when
Abé-no-Yasunari, the Court Magician, directed against me his powers of
exorcism; he set up the many-colored symbols of the gods upon the altar, and
gave them also into my hands.
Cho.—With fervent zeal the Great Magician prays:
The Demon hears with tremulous amaze
The solemn exorcism, whose every word
Pierces her spirit like a two-edged sword.
Not long such pain and terror can be borne:
Awed into silence, and with anguish torn,
She spreads her wings, she rises on the wind,
Nor dares to cast one fearful glance behind.
Away! away! o'er lands and seas she soars,
Nor rests until she gains these distant moors.
Spirit.—Then the Mikado issued his commands.
To the two satraps of the neighb'ring lands:
"Drive out,'' spake he, "the Fox, the Demon foul!''
And they, obedient to the word, enroll
Skilled marksmen, who, for five-score days and more,
Practice on dogs, to make their arch'ry sure.
May we not thus trace back to that command
The custom of dog-shooting in our land?
Then the two satraps, armed with bow and spear,
And myriad horsemen brought from far and near,
Beat all the moor, surround its every part;
Thick as the hail-storm fly the spear and dart.
And I, poor Fox, all hope of rescue flown,
Wounded and dying on the heath sink down.
But yet my ghost (though, like the morning dew,
'Twas wrapt away from grosser human view)
Ceas'd not to haunt this distant, des'late moor,
And in the Death-stone dwelt its fatal power,
Which, ever watchful, both by day and night,
In murd'ring weary wand'rers took delight—
Till thou, Great Buddha, send'st thy priest this way.
Then did religion reassert her sway,
Breaking my chains asunder, and the spell
Which bound me captive to the powers of hell:
"I swear, O man of God, I swear,'' she cries,
"To thee whose blessing wafts me to the skies,
I swear a solemn oath, that shall endure
Firm as the Death-stone standing on the moor,
That from this hour I'm God's for e'er and e'er!''
She spake and vanished into thinnest air.





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