SRI AUROBINDO
Collected Plays and Short Stories
Part One
The sea-shore. Andromeda chained to the cliff.
O iron-throated vast unpitying sea,
Whose borders touch my feet with their cold kisses
As if they loved me! yet from thee my death
Will soon arise, and in some monstrous form
To tear my heart with horror before my body.
I am alone with thee on this wild beach
Filled with the echo of thy roaring waters.
My fellowmen have cast me out: they have bound me
Upon thy rocks to die. These cruel chains
Weary the arms they keep held stiffly out
Against the rough cold jaggèd stones. My bosom
Hardly contains its thronging sobs; my heart
Is torn with misery: for by my act
My father and my mother are doomed to death,
My kind dear brother, my sweet Iolaus,
Will cruelly be slaughtered; by my act
A kingdom ends in miserable ruin.
I thought to save two fellowmen: I have slain
A hundred by their rescue. I have failed
In all I did and die accursed and hated.
I die alone and miserably, no heart
To pity me: only your hostile waves
Are listening to my sobs and laughing hoarsely
With cruel pleasure. Heaven looks coldly on.
Yet I repent not. O thou dreadful god!
Yes, thou art dreadful and most mighty; perhaps
This world will always be a world of blood
And smiling cruelty, thou its fit sovereign.
But I have done what my own heart required of me, 
And I repent not. Even if after death
Eternal pain and punishment await me
And gods and men pursue me with their hate,
I have been true to myself and to my heart,
I have been true to the love it bore for men,
And I repent not.
Alas! is there no pity for me? Is there
No kind bright sword to save me in all this world?
Heaven with its cold unpitying azure roofs me,
And the hard savage rocks surround: the deaf
And violent Ocean roars about my feet,
And all is stony, all is cold and cruel.
Yet I had dreamed of other powers. Where art thou,
O beautiful still face amid the lightnings,
Athene? Does a mother leave her child?
And thou, bright stranger, wert thou only a dream?
Wilt thou not come down glorious from thy sun,
And cleave my chains, and lift me in thy arms
To safety? I will not die! I am too young,
And life was recently so beautiful.
It is too hard, too hard a fate to bear.
She is silent, weeping. Cydone enters: she comes
and sits down at Andromeda's feet.
How beautiful she is, how beautiful!
Her tears bathe all her bosom. O cruel Syrians!
What gentle touch is on my feet? Who art thou?
My brother! lives he yet? 
He lives, dear sweetness,
And sent me to you.
No, bound and in the temple. Weep not.
Alas! And you have left him there alone?
The gods are with him, sister. In a few hours
We shall be all together and released
From these swift perils.
Together and released!
How beautiful you are, how beautiful,
Iolaus' sister! This one white slight garment
Fluttering about you in the ocean winds,
You look like some wind-goddess chained in play
By frolic sisters on the wild sea-beaches.
I think all this has happened, little sister,
Just that the gods might have for one brief hour
You for a radiant vision of childish beauty
Exposed against this wild stupendous background.
You make me smile in spite of all my grief. 
Did you not bid me hope, Cydone?
And now
I bid you trust: for you are saved.
I am.
Your name's Andromeda?
Iolaus calls me so.
I think he cheats me.
You are Iolaus changed into a girl.
Come, I will kiss you dumb for cheating me
With changes of yourself.
My Iolaus always chained like this
To do my pleasure with, I would so plague him!
For he abuses me and calls me shrew,
Monster and vixen and names unbearable,
Because he's strong and knows I cannot beat him.
The world is changed about me.
Heaven's above.
There is a golden cloud
Moving towards me.
I go to Iolaus in the temple, —
I mean your other fair boy-self. Kiss me,
O sweet girl-Iolaus, and fear nothing.
I shall be saved! What is this sudden trouble
That lifts the bosom of the tossing deep,
Hurling the waves against my knees? Save me!
Where art thou gone, Cydone? What huge head
Raises itself on the affrighted seas?
Where art thou, O my saviour? Come! His eyes
Glare up at me from the grey Ocean trough
Hideous with brutish longing. Like great sharp rocks
His teeth are in a bottomless dim chasm.
She closes her eyes in terror. Perseus enters.
Look up, O sunny-curled Andromeda!
Perseus, the son of Danaë, is with thee
To whom thou now belongest. Fear no more
Sea-monsters nor the iron-souled Poseidon,
Nor the more monstrous flinty-hearted rabble
Who bound thee here. This huge and grisly enemy
That rises from the flood, need not affright thee.
Thou art as safe as if thy mother's arms
Contained thee in thy brilliant guarded palace
When all was calm, O white Andromeda!
Lift up thy eyes' long curtains: aid the azure
With thy regards, O sunshine. Look at me
And see thy safety. 
O thou hast come to me!
It was not only a radiant face I dreamed of.
In time to save thee, my Andromeda,
Sole jewel of the world. I go to meet
Thy enemy, confronting grim Poseidon.
O touch me ere you go that I may feel
You are real.
Let my kiss, sweet doubting dreamer,
Convince thee. Now I dart like a swift hawk
Upon my prey and smite betwixt the billows.
Watch how I fight for thee. I will come soon
To gather thee into my grasp, my prize
Of great adventure.
The music of his name
Was in my brain just now. What must I call thee?
Perseus, the son of Danaë! Perseus!
Perseus, Athene's sword! Perseus, my sungod!
O human god of glad Andromeda!
Forgive, Athene, my lack of faith. Thou art!
How like a sudden eagle he has swooped
Upon the terror, that lifts itself alarmed,
Swings its huge length along the far-ridged billows
And upwards yawns its rage. O great Athene!
It belches fiery breath against my Perseus
And lashes Ocean in his face. The sea
Is tossed upon itself and its huge bottoms
Catch chinks of unaccustomed day.
But the aegis 
Of Perseus hurls the flame-commingled flood
Back in the dragon's eyes: it shoots its lightnings
Into the horizon like fire-trailing arrows.
The world surprised with light gazes dismayed
Upon the sea-surrounded war, ringed in
With foam and flying tumult. O glorious sight,
Too swift and terrible for human eyes!
I will pray rather. Virgin, beautiful
Athene, virgin-mother of my soul!
I cannot lift my hands to thee, they are chained
To the wild cliff, but lift my heart instead,
Virgin, assist thy hero in the fight.
Descend, armipotent maiden, child of Zeus,
Shoot from his god-like brain the strength of will
That conquers evil: in one victorious stroke
Collecting hurl it on the grisly foe.
Thou, thou art sword and shield, and thou the force
That uses shield and sword, virgin Athene.
The tumult ceases and the floods subside.
I dare not look. And yet I will. O death,
Thou tossest there inertly on the flood,
A floating mountain. Perseus comes to me
Touching the waves with airy-sandalled feet,
Bright and victorious.
The grisly beast is slain that was thy terror,
And thou may'st sun the world with smiles again,
Andromeda.
Thou hast delivered me, O Perseus, Perseus,
My sovereign.
Girl, I take into my arms 
My own that I have won and with these kisses
Seal to me happy head and smiling eyes,
Bright lips and all of thee, thou sunny Syrian.
All thy white body is a hero's guerdon.
Perseus!
Sweetly thou tak'st my eager kisses
With lovely smiles and glorious blushing cheeks
Rejoicing in their shame.
I am chained, Perseus,
And cannot help myself.
O smile of sweetness!
I will unravel these unworthy bonds
And rid thee of the cold excuse.
My chains?
They do not hurt me now, and I would wear them
A hundred times for such a happy rescue.
Thou tremblest yet!
Some sweet and sudden fear
O'ertakes me! O what is it? I dare not look
Into thy radiant eyes.
Sweet tremors, grow
Upon her. Never shall harsher fears again
O'ertake your rosy limbs, in Perseus' keeping.
How fair thou art, my prize Andromeda!
O sweet chained body, chained to love not death,
That with a happy passiveness endures
My touch, once more, once more. And now fall down
Clashing into the deep, you senseless irons,
That took a place my kisses only merit.
Princess of Syria, child of imperial Cepheus,
Step forward free.
Andromeda (falling at his feet and embracing them)
Wilt thou not also save those dear to me
And make this life thou givest worth the giving?
My father, mother, brother, all I love,
Lie for my fault shuddering beneath the knife.
It was a glorious fault, Andromeda.
Tremble not for thy loved ones. Wilt thou trust
Thy cherished body in my arms to bear
Upward, surprising Heaven with thy beauty?
Or wilt thou fear to see the blue wide Ocean
Between thy unpropped feet, fathoms below?
With you I fear not.
Cling to me then, sweet burden,
And we will meet our enemies together.
He puts his arms round her to lift
her and the curtain falls.
The Temple of Poseidon.
Polydaon, Therops, Dercetes, Cydone, Damoetes and a great number of Syrians, men and women. Iolaus stands bound, a little to the side: Cepheus and Cassiopea surrounded by armed men.
Cepheus and Cassiopea, man and woman,
Not sovereigns now, you see what end they have
Who war upon the gods.
To see thy end
My eyes wait only.
Let them see something likelier,
Is't not thy son who wears those cords and that
An altar? What! the eyes are drowned in tears
Where fire was once so ready! Where is thy pride,
O Cassiopea?
There are other gods
Than thy Poseidon. They shall punish thee.
If thou knew'st who I am, which is most secret,
Thou wouldst not utter vain and foolish wishes.
When thou art slain, I will reveal myself.
Thou hast revealed thyself for what thou art
Already, a madman and inhuman monster.
My queen, refrain from words.
Perissus comes.
Ah God!
Look, the Queen swoons! Oh, look to her!
Yes, raise her up, bring back her senses: now
I would not have them clouded. News, Perissus!
Thy face is troubled and thy eyes stare wildly.
Stare, do they? They may stare, for they have cause.
You too will stare soon, Viceroy Polydaon.
What rare thing happened? The heavens were troubled strangely,
Although their rifts were blue. What hast thou seen?
I have seen hell and heaven at grips together.
What do I care for hell or heaven? Your news!
Did the sea-monster come and eat and go?
He came but went not.
Was not the maiden seized?
Ay, was she, in a close and mighty grasp.
By the sea-beast?
'Tis said we all are animals;
Then so was he: but 'twas a glorious beast.
And was she quite devoured?
Why, in a manner,—
Ha! ha! such soft caresses
May all my enemies have. She was not torn?
What, was she taken whole and quite engulfed?
Something like that.
You speak with difficult slowness
And strangely. Where's your blithe robustness gone,
Perissus?
Coming, with the beast. He lifted her
Mightily from the cliff to heaven.
So, Queen,
Nothing is left thee of Andromeda.
Why, something yet, a sweet and handsome piece.
You should have brought it here, my merry butcher,
That remnant of her daughter.
It is coming.
Ho, ho! then you shall see your daughter, Queen.
This is a horrid and inhuman laughter.
Restrain thy humour, priest! My sword's uneasy.
It is a scandal in Poseidon's temple.
Do you oppose me?
Misguided mortal?
He glares and his mouth works,
This is a maniac. Does a madman rule us?
There has been much of violence and mad fierceness,
Such as in tumults may be pardoned. Now
It is the tranquil hour of victory
When decency should reign and mercy too.
What do we gain by torturing this poor Queen
And most unhappy King?
Hear him, O people!
He favours great Poseidon's enemies.
He rails at the good priest.
Therops a traitor!
Therops, thou favour kings?
Thou traitor to Poseidon and his people?
I say, hear Therops. He is always right,
Our Therops; he has brains.
Hear Therops, Therops!
Let them be punished, but with exile only.
I am no traitor. I worked for you, O people,
When this false priest was with the King of Tyre
Plotting to lay on you a foreign chain.
Is it so? Is it the truth? Speak, Polydaon.
Must I defend myself?
Was it not I
Who led you on to victory and turned
The wrath of dire Poseidon? If you doubt me,
Be then the sacrifice forbidden; let Cepheus
And Cassiopea reign; but when the dogs
Of grim Poseidon howl again behind you,
Call not to me for help. I will not always pardon.
Polydaon, Polydaon, Poseidon's mighty Viceroy! Kill Therops! Iolaus upon the altar!
Now you are wise again. Leave this Therops.
Bring Iolaus to the altar here.
Lay bare his bosom for the knife.
Dercetes,
Shall this be allowed?
We must not dare offend
Poseidon. But when it's over, I'll break in
With all my faithful spears and save the King
And Cassiopea. Therops, 'twould be a nightmare,
The rule of that fierce priest and fiercer rabble.
With all the better sort I will support thee.
Therops, my crowd-compeller, my eloquent Zeus of the market-place, I know thy heart is big with the sweet passion of repentance, but let it not burst into action yet.
Keep thy fleet sharp spears at rest, Dercetes.
There are times, my little captain, and there is a season.
Watch and wait.
The gods are at work and Iolaus shall not die.
We only wait until our mighty wrath
Is shown you in the mangled worst offender
Against our godhead. Then, O Cassiopea,
I'll watch thy eyes.
Behold her, Polydaon.
Perseus and Andromeda enter the temple.
Andromeda! Andromeda! who has unchained her?
It is the spirit of Andromeda.
Shadows were ne'er so bright, had never smile
So sunny! she is given back to earth:
It is the radiant wingèd Hermes brings her.
'Tis he who baffled us upon the beach.
I see the gods are busy in our Syria.
Andromeda runs to Cassiopea and clasps and kisses
her knees: the soldiers making way for her.
Cassiopea (taking Andromeda's face between her hands)
O my sweet child, thou livest!
Mother, mother!
I live and see the light and grief is ended.
Cassiopea (lifting Andromeda into her arms)
I hold thee living on my bosom.
What grief
Can happen now?
Andromeda, my daughter!
Polydaon (awaking from his amazement)
Confusions! Butcher, thou hast betrayed me. Seize them!
They shall all die upon my mighty altar.
Priest of Poseidon and of death,
Three days thou gav'st me: it is but the second.
I am here. Dost thou require the sacrifice?
Art thou a god? I am a greater, dreadfuller.
Tremble and go from me: I need thee not.
Expect thy punishment. Syrians, behold me,
The victim snatched from grim Poseidon's altar.
My sword has rescued sweet Andromeda
And slain the monster of the deep. You asked
For victims? I am here. Whose knife is ready?
Who art thou, mighty hero?
Declare unto this people thy renown
And thy unequalled actions. What high godhead
Befriends thee in battle?
Syrians, I am Perseus,
The mighty son of Zeus and Danaë.
The blood of gods is in my veins, the strength
Of gods is in my arm: Athene helps me.
Behold her aegis, which if I uncover
Will blind you with its lightnings; and this sword
Is Herpe, which can pierce the earth and Hades.
What I have done, is by Athene's strength.
Borne from Seriphos through pellucid air
Upon these wingèd shoes, in the far west
I have traversed unknown lands and nameless continents
And seas where never came the plash of human oars.
On torrid coasts burned by the desert wind
I have seen great Atlas buttressing the sky,
His giant head companion of the stars,
And changed him into a hill; the northern snows
Illimitable I have trod, where Nature
Is awed to silence, chilled to rigid whiteness;
I have entered caverns dim where death was born:
And I have taken from the dim-dwelling Graiae
Their wondrous eye that sees the past and future:
And I have slain the Gorgon, dire Medusa,
Her head that turns the living man to stone
Locking into my wallet: last, today,
In Syria by the loud Aegean surges
I have done this deed that men shall ever speak of.
Ascending with winged feet the clamorous air
I have cloven Poseidon's monster whose rock-teeth
And fiery mouth swallowed your sons and daughters.
Where now has gone the sea-god's giant stride
That filled with heads of foam your fruitful fields?
I have dashed back the leaping angry waters;
His Ocean-force has yielded to a mortal.
Even while I speak, the world has changed around you
Syrians, the earth is calm, the heavens smile;
A mighty silence listens on the sea.
All this I have done, and yet not I, but one greater.
Such is Athene's might and theirs who serve her.
You know me now, O Syrians, and my strength
I have concealed not.
Let no man hereafter
Complain that I deceived him to his doom.
Speak now. Which of you all demands a victim?
What, you have howled and maddened, bound sweet women
For slaughter, roared to have the hearts of princes,
And are you silent now? Who is for victims?
A fool so death-devoted?
Claims any man victims?
There's none, great Perseus.
Then, I here release
Andromeda and Iolaus, Syrians,
From the death-doom: to Cepheus give his crown
Once more. Does any man gainsay my action?
None, mighty Perseus.
Iolaus, sweet friend, my work is finished.
O mighty father, suffer me for thee
To take thy crown from the unworthy soil
Where rude hands tumbled it. 'Twill now sit steady.
Dercetes, art thou loyal once again?
For ever.
Therops!
I have abjured rebellion.
Lead then my royal parents to their home
With martial pomp and music. And let the people
Cover their foul revolt with meek obedience.
One guiltiest head shall pay you forfeit: the rest,
Since terror and religious frenzy moved
To mutiny, not their sober wills, shall all
Be pardoned.
Long live the Syrian, noble Iolaus!
Andromeda, and thou, my sweet Cydone,
Go with them.
I approve thy sentence, son.
Dercetes and his soldiers, Therops and the
Syrians leave the temple conducting Cepheus
and Cassiopea, Andromeda and Cydone.
Now, Polydaon, —
I have seen all and laughed.
Iolaus, and thou, O Argive Perseus,
You know not who I am. I have endured
Your foolish transient triumph that you might feel
My punishments more bitter-terrible.
'Tis time, 'tis time. I will reveal myself.
Your horror-staring eyes shall know me, princes,
When I hurl death and Ocean on your heads.
The man is frantic.
Defeat has turned him mad.
I have seen this coming on him for a season and a half. He was a fox at first, but this tumult gave him claws and muscles and he turned tiger. This is the end. What, Polydaon! Good cheer, priest! Roll not thy eyes: I am thy friend Perissus, I am thy old loving school-mate; are we not now fellow-craftsmen, priest and butcher?
Do you not see? I wave my sapphire locks
And earth is quaking. Quake, earth! rise, my great Ocean!
Earth, shake my foemen from thy back! clasp, sea,
And kiss them dead, thou huge voluptuary.
Come barking from your stables, my sweet monsters:
With blood-stained fangs and fiery mouths avenge me
Mocking their victory. Thou, brother Zeus,
Rain curses from thy skies. What, is all silent?
I'll tear thee, Ocean, into watery bits
And strip thy oozy basal rocks quite naked
If thou obey me not.
And bound.
Pause. See, he foams and clutches!
Is sentenced.
Polydaon, old crony, grows thy soul too great within thee? dost thou kick the unworthy earth and hit out with thy noble fists at Heaven?
It was a fit, it is over. He lies back white
And shaking.
Polydaon (As he speaks, his utterance is hacked by pauses of silence. He seems unconscious of those around him, his being is withdrawing from the body and he lives only in an inner consciousness and its vision.)
I was Poseidon but this moment.
Now he departs from me and leaves me feeble:
I have become a dull and puny mortal.
It was not I but thou who feared'st, god.
I would have spoken, but thou wert chilled and stone.
What feared'st thou or whom? Wert thou alarmed
By the godhead lurking in man's secret soul
Or deity greater than thy own appalled thee?...
Forgive, forgive! pass not away from me.
Thy power is now my breath and I shall perish
If thou withdraw.... He stands beside me still
Shaking his gloomy locks and glares at me
Saying it was my sin and false ambition
Undid him.
Was I not fearless as thou bad'st me?
Ah, he has gone into invisible
Vast silences!... Whose, whose is this bright glory?
One stands now in his place and looks at me.
Imperious is his calm Olympian brow,
The sea's blue unfathomed depths gaze from his eyes,
Wide sea-blue locks crown his majestic shape:
A mystic trident arms his tranquil might.
As one new-born to himself and to the world
He turns from me with the surges in his stride
To seek his Ocean empire. Earth bows down
Trembling with awe of his unbearable steps,
Heaven is the mirror of his purple greatness....
But whose was that dimmer and tremendous image?...
A horror of darkness is around me still,
But the joy and might have gone out of my breast
And left me mortal, a poor human thing
With whom death and the fates can do their will....
But his presence yet is with me, near to me....
Was I not something more than earthly man?...
It was myself, the shadow, the hostile god!
I am abandoned to my evil self.
That was the darkness!... But there was something more
Insistent, dreadful, other than myself!
Whoever thou art, spare me.... I am gone, I am taken.
In his tremendous clutch he bears me off
Into thick cloud; I see black Hell, the knives
Fire-pointed touch my breast. Spare me, Poseidon....
Save me, O brilliant God, forgive and save.
Who then can save a man from his own self?
He is ended, his own evil has destroyed him.
This man for a few hours became the vessel
Of an occult and formidable Force
And through his form it did fierce terrible things
Unhuman: but his small and gloomy mind
And impure dark heart could not contain the Force.
It turned in him to madness and demoniac
Huge longings. Then the Power withdrew from him
Leaving the broken incapable instrument,
And all its might was split from his body. Better
To be a common man mid common men
And live an unaspiring mortal life
Than call into oneself a Titan strength
Too dire and mighty for its human frame,
That only afflicts the oppressed astonished world,
Then breaks its user.
But best to be Heaven's child.
Only the sons of gods can harbour gods.
Art thou then gone, Polydaon? My monarch of breast-hackers, this was an evil ending. My heart is full of woe for thee, my fellow-butcher.
The gods have punished him for his offences,
Ambition and a hideous cruelty
Ingenious in mere horror.
Burn him with rites,
If that may help his soul by dark Cocytus.
But let us go and end these strange upheavals:
Call Cireas from his hiding for reward,
Tyrnaus too, and Smerdas from his prison,
Fair Diomede from Cydone's house.
Humble or high, let all have their deserts
Who partners were or causes of our troubles.
There's Phineus will ask reasons.
He shall be satisfied.
He cannot be satisfied, his nose is too long; it will not listen to reason, for it thinks all the reason and policy in the world are shut up in the small brain to which it is a long hooked outlet.
Perissus, come with me: for thou wert kind
To my fair sweetness; it shall be remembered.
There was nothing astonishing in that: I am as chockfull with natural kindness as a rabbit is with guts; I have bowels, great Perseus. For am I not Perissus? am I not the butcher?
They go out: the curtain falls.
The audience chamber of the palace.
Cepheus, Cassiopea, Andromeda, Cydone, Praxilla, Medes.
A sudden ending to our sudden evils
Propitious gods have given us, Cassiopea.
Pursued by panic the Assyrian flees
Abandoning our borders.
And I have got
My children's faces back upon my bosom.
What gratitude can ever recompense
That godlike youth whose swift and glorious rescue
Lifted us out of Hell so radiantly?
He has taken his payment in one small white coin
Mounted with gold; and more he will not ask for.
Your name's Cydone, child? your face is strange.
You are not of the slave-girls.
O I am!
Iolaus' slave-girl, though he calls me sometimes
His queen: but that is only to beguile me.
Oh, mother, you must know my sweet Cydone.
I shall think you love me little if you do not
Take her into your bosom: for she alone,
When I was lonely with my breaking heart,
Came to me with sweet haste and comforted
My soul with kisses, — yes, even when the terror
Was rising from the sea, surrounded me
With her light lovely babble, till I felt
Sorrow was not in the same world as she.
And but for her I might have died of grief
Ere rescue came.
What wilt thou ask of me,
Even to a crown, Cydone? thou shalt have it.
Nothing, unless 'tis leave to stand before you
And be for ever Iolaus' slave-girl
Unchidden.
Thou shalt be more than that, my daughter.
I have two mothers: a double Iolaus
I had already. O you girl-Iolaus,
You shall not marry Perseus: you are mine now.
Oh, if you have learned to blush!
Andromeda (stopping her mouth)
Or I will smother your wild mouth with mine.
O welcome, brilliant victor, mighty Perseus!
Saviour of Syria, angel of the gods,
Kind was the fate that led thee to our shores.
My golden-haired delight they would have murdered!
One like thee
In love, O Queen, though less in royalty.
What can I give thee then who hast the world
To move in, thy courage and thy radiant beauty,
And a tender mother? Yet take my blessing, Perseus,
To help thee: for the mightiest strengths are broken
And divine favour lasts not long, but blessings
Of those thou helpest with thy kindly strength
Upon life's rugged way, can never fail thee.
And what shall I give, seed of bright Olympus?
Wilt thou have half my kingdom, Argive Perseus?
Thy kingdom falls by right to Iolaus
In whom I shall enjoy it. One gift thou hadst
I might have coveted, but she is mine,
O monarch: I have taken her from death
For my possession.
My sunny Andromeda!
But there's the Tyrian: yet he gave her up
To death and cannot now reclaim her.
Father,
The Babylonian merchants wait, and Cireas:
The people's leaders and thy army's captains
Are eager to renew an interrupted
Obedience.
Admit them all to me: Go, Medes.
As Medes goes out, Diomede enters.
Diomede! playmate! you too have come quite safe
Out of the storm. I thought we both must founder.
Oh, yes, and now you'll marry Perseus, leave me
No other playmate than Praxilla's whippings
To keep me lively!
Therefore 'tis you look
So discontent and sullen? Clear your face,
I'll drag you to the world's far end with me,
And take in my own hands Praxilla's duty.
As if your little hand could hurt!
I'm off, Praxilla, to pick scarlet berries
In Argolis and hear the seabirds' cries
And Ocean singing to the Cyclades.
I'll buy you brand new leather for a relic
To whip the memory of me with sometimes,
Praxilla.
You shall taste it then before you go.
You'll make a fine fair couple of wilfulnesses.
You are well rid of us,
My poor Praxilla.
Princess, little Princess,
My hands will be lighter, but my heart too heavy.
Therops and Dercetes enter with the Captains of
the army, Cireas, Tyrnaus, and Smerdas.
Hail, you restored high royalties of Syria.
O King, accept us, be the past forgotten.
It is forgotten, Therops. Welcome, Dercetes.
Thy friend Nebassar is asleep. He has done
His service for the day and taken payment.
His blood is a deep stain on Syria's bosom.
On us the stain lies, queen: but we will drown it
In native streams, when we go forth to scourge
The Assyrian in his home.
Death for one's King
Only less noble is than for one's country.
This foreign soldier taught us that home lesson.
Therops, there are kings still in Syria?
Great Queen,
Remember not my sins.
They are buried deep,
Thy bold rebellion, — even thy cruel slanders,
If only thou wilt serve me as my friend
True to thy people in me. Will this be hard for thee?
O noble lady, you pay wrongs with favours!
I am yours for ever, I and all this people.
This it is to be an orator! We shall hear him haranguing the people next market-day on fidelity to princes and the divine right of queens to have favourites.
Cireas, old bribe-taker, art thou living? Did Poseidon forget thee?
I pray you, Prince, remind me not of past foolishness. I have grown pious. I will never speak ill again of authorities and divinities.
Thou art grown ascetic? thou carest no longer then for gold? I am glad, for my purse will be spared a very heavy lightening.
Prince, I will not suffer my young piety to make you break old promises; for if it is perilous to sin, it is worse to be the cause of sin in others.
Thou shalt have gold and farms. I will absolve
Andromeda's promise and my own.
Great Plutus!
Merchant Tyrnaus, art thou for Chaldea?
When I have seen these troubles' joyous end
And your sweet princess, my young rescuer,
Happily wedded.
I will give thee a ship
And merchandise enough to fill thy losses.
And prayers with them, O excellent Chaldean.
The world has need of men like thee.
What will they say to me? I shall be tortured
And crucified. But she with her smile will save me.
Smerdas, thou unclean treacherous coward soul!
Alas, I was compelled by threats of torture.
And tempted too with gold.
Thy punishment
Shall hit thee in thy nature. Farmer Cireas!
Prince Plutus!
Take thou this man for slave. He's strong.
Work him upon thy fields and thy plantations.
O this is worst of all.
Not worse than thy desert.
For gold thou lustest? earn it for another.
Thou'lt save thy life? it is a freedman's chattel.
O speak for me, lady Andromeda!
Dear Iolaus, —
My child, thou art all pity;
But justice has her seat, and her fine balance
Disturbed too often spoils an unripe world
With ill-timed mercy. Thy brother speaks my will.
Thou hast increased thy crime by pleading to her
Whom thou betrayed'st to her death. Art thou
Quite shameless? Hold thy peace!
Grieve not too much.
Cireas will be kind to thee; wilt thou not, Cireas?
At thy command I will be even that
And even to him.
What other dangerous clamour
Is at our gates?
Perissus enters brandishing his cleaver.
Pull out that sharp skewer of thine, comrade Perseus, or let me handle my cleaver.
Thou art angry, butcher? Who has disturbed thy noble serenity?
King Cepheus, shall I not be angry? Art thou not again our majesty of Syria? And shall our majesty be insulted with noses? Shall it be prodded by a proboscis? Perseus, thou hast slaughtered yonder palaeozoic icthyosaurus; wilt thou suffer me to chop this neozoan?
Calmly, precisely and not so polysyllabically, my good Perissus. Tell the King what is this clamour.
My monarch, Phineus of Tyre has brought his long-nosed royalty to thy gates and poke it he will into thy kingly presence. His blusterings, King, have flustered my calm great heart within me.
Comes he alone?
Damoetes and some scores more hang on to his long tail of hook-nosed Tyrians; but they are all rabble and proletariate, not a citizen butcher in the whole picking. They brandish skewers; they threaten to poke me with their dainty iron spits, — me, Perissus, me, the butcher!
Phineus in arms! This is the after-swell
Of tempest.
Let the Phoenician enter, comrade.
Look not so blank. This man with all his crew
Shall be my easy care.
Phineus enters the hall with a great company,
Tyrians with drawn swords, Damoetes, Morus
and others: after them Perissus.
Welcome, Tyre.
Thou breakest armed into our presence, Phineus.
Had they been earlier there, these naked swords
Would have been welcome.
I am not here for welcome
Lady. King Cepheus, wilt thou yield me right,
Or shall I take it with my sword?
Phineus,
I never have withheld even from the meanest,
The least thing he could call his right.
Thou hast not?
Who gives then to a wandering Greek my bride,
Thy perfect daughter?
She was in some peril,
When thou wert absent, Tyre.
A vain young man,
A brilliant sworder wandering for a name,
Who calls himself the son of Danaë,
And who his father was, the midnight knows.
This is the lord thou giv'st Andromeda,
Scorning the mighty King of ancient Tyre.
He saved her from the death to which we left her,
And she was his, — his wife, if so he chose,
Or, conquered by the sword from grim Poseidon,
His then to take her as he would from that moment.
Do his deeds or thy neglect annul thy promise?
King Phineus, wilt thou take up and lay down
At pleasure? Who leaves a jewel in the mud,
Shall he complain because another took it?
And she was never his; she hated him.
I'll hear no reasons, but with strong force have her,
Though it be to lift her o'er the dearest blood
Andromeda takes refuge with Perseus.
The stripling bosom where thou tak'st thy refuge.
Thou hast mistook thy home, Andromeda.
'Tis thou mistakest, Phineus, thinking her
A bride who, touched, shall be thy doom. Get hence
Unhurt.
Prince Iolaus, the sword that cut
Thy contract to Poseidon, cuts not mine, —
Which if you void, thou and thy father pay for it.
Phineus of Tyre, it may be thou art wronged,
But 'tis not at his hands whom thou impugnest;
Her father gave her not to me.
Her mother then?
She is the man, I think, in Syria's household.
Her too I asked not.
Thou wooedst then the maid?
It shall not help thee though a thousand times
She kissed thee yes. Pretty Andromeda,
Wilt thou have for thy lord this vagabond,
Wander with him as beggars land and sea?
Despite thyself I'll save thee from that fate
Unworthy of thy beauty and thy sweetness,
And make thee Queen in Tyre.
Minion of Argos,
Learn, ere thou grasp at other's goods, to ask
The owner, not the owned.
I did not ask her.
Then by what right, presumptuous, hast thou her?
Or wherefore lies she thus within thy arm?
Say, by what right, King Phineus, thou wouldst take her,
Herself and all refusing?
By my precontract.
Thou gavest her to Death, that contract's broken.
Or if thou seekest to revoke thy gift,
Foregather then with Death and ask him for her.
Then by my sword,
Not asking her or any, because I am a king,
I'll take her.
If the sword is the sole judge,
Then by my own sword I have taken her, Tyrian,
Not asking her or any, who am king
O'er her, her sovereign. This soft gold is mine
And mine these banks of silver; this rich country
Is my possession and owes to my strong taking
All her sweet revenues in honey. Phineus,
I wonder not that thou dost covet her
Whom the whole world might want. Wrest her from me,
Phoenician, to her father she belongs not.
King Phineus, art thou ready? Yet look once more
On the blue sky and this green earth of Syria.
Young man, thou hast done deeds I'll not belittle.
Yet was it only a sea-beast and a rabble
Whom thou hast tamed; I am a prince and warrior.
Wilt thou fright me with thy aegis?
Not fright, but end thee;
For thou hast spoken words deserving death.
Come forth into the open, this is no place
For battle. Marshal thy warlike crew against me,
And let thy Syrian mob-men help with shouts:
Stand in their front to lead them; I alone
Will meet their serried charge, Dercetes merely
Watching us.
Thou art frantic with past triumphs:
Argive, desist. I would not rob thy mother
Of her sole joy, howe'er she came by thee.
The gods may punish her sweet midnight fault,
To whom her dainty trickery imputes it.
Come now, lest here I slay thee.
Thou art in love
With death: but I am pitiful, young Perseus,
Thou shalt not die. My men shall take thee living
And pedlars hawk thee for a slave in Tyre,
Where thou shalt see sometimes far off Andromeda,
A Queen of nations.
Thou compassionate man!
But I will give thee, hero, marvellous death
And stone for monument, which thou deservest;
For thou wert a great King and famous warrior,
When still thou wert living. Forth and fight with me!
Afterwards if thou canst, come for Andromeda;
None shall oppose thy seizure. Behind me, captain,
So that the rabble here may not be tempted
To any treacherous stroke.
Phineus goes out with the Tyrians, Damoetes and the
Syrian favourers of Phineus, followed by Perseus and
Dercetes. Cireas behind them at a distance.
Sunbeam, I am afraid.
I am not, father.
Alone against so many!
Shall I go, father,
And stand by him?
He cries some confident order.
The Tyrians shout for onset; he is doomed.
There is a moment's pause, all listening painfully.
The shouts are stilled; there is a sudden hush.
What can it mean? This silence is appalling.
What news? Thou treadest like one sleeping, captain.
O King, thy royal court is full of monuments.
What meanest thou? What happened? Where is Perseus?
King Phineus called to his men to take alive
The Greek; but as they charged, great Perseus cried,
“Close eyes, Dercetes, if thou car'st to live,”
And I obeyed, yet saw that he had taken
A snaky something from the wallet's mouth
He carries in his baldric. Blind I waited
And heard the loud approaching charge. Then suddenly
The rapid onset ceased, the cries fell dumb
And a great silence reigned. Astonishment
For two brief moments only held me close;
But when I lifted my sealed lids, the court
Was full of those swift charging warriors stiffened
To stone or stiffening, in the very posture
Of onset, sword uplifted, shield advanced,
Knee crooked, foot carried forward to the pace,
An animated silence, life in stone.
Only the godlike victor lived, a smile
Upon his lips, closing his wallet's mouth.
Then I, appalled, came from that place in silence.
Soldier, he is a god, or else the gods
Walk close to him. I hear his footsteps coming,
Hail, Perseus!
Perseus returns, followed by Cireas.
King, the Tyrians all are dead,
Nor need'st thou build them pyres nor dig them graves.
If any hereafter ask what perfect sculptor
Chiselled these forms in Syria's royal court,
Say then, “Athene, child armipotent
Of the Olympian, hewed by Perseus' hand
In one divine and careless stroke these statues.
O thou dreadful victor!
I know not what to say nor how to praise thee.
Say nothing, King; in silence praise the Gods.
Let this not trouble you, my friends. Proceed
As if no interruption had disturbed you.
O Zeus, I thought thou couldst juggle only with feathers and phosphorus, but I see thou canst give wrinkles in magic to Babylon and the Medes. (shaking himself) I cannot feel sure yet that I am not myself a statue. Ugh! this was a stony conjuring.
Perissus (who has gone out and returned)
What hast thou done, comrade Perseus?
Thou hast immortalised his long nose to all time in stone!
This is a woeful thing for posterity; thou hadst no right to leave behind thee for its dismay such a fossil.
What now is left but to prepare the nuptials
Of sweet young sunny-eyed Andromeda
With mighty Perseus?
King, let it be soon
That I may go to my blue-ringed Seriphos,
Where my mother waits, and more deeds call to me.
Yet if thy heart consents, then three months give us,
O Perseus, of thyself and our sweet child,
And then abandon.
They are given.
Perseus,
You give and never ask; let me for you
Ask something.
Ask, Andromeda, and have.
Then this I ask that thy great deeds may leave
Their golden trace on Syria. Let the dire cult
For ever cease and victims bleed no more
On its dark altar. Instead Athene's name
Spread over all the land and in men's hearts.
Then shall a calm and mighty Will prevail
And broader minds and kindlier manners reign
And men grow human, mild and merciful.
King Cepheus, thou hast heard; shall this be done?
Hero, thou camest to change our world for us.
Then let the shrine
That looked out from earth's breast into the sunlight,
Be cleansed of its red memory of blood,
And the dread Form that lived within its precincts
Transfigure into a bright compassionate God
Whose strength shall aid men tossed upon the seas.
Give succour to the shipwrecked mariner.
A noble centre of a people's worship,
To Zeus and great Athene build a temple
Between your sky-topped hills and Ocean's vasts:
Her might shall guard your lives and save your land.
In your human image of her deity
A light of reason and calm celestial force
And a wise tranquil government of life,
Order and beauty and harmonious thoughts
And, ruling the waves of impulse, high-throned will
Incorporate in marble, the carved and white
Ideal of a young uplifted race.
For these are her gifts to those who worship her.
Adore and what you adore attempt to be.
Will the fiercer Grandeur that was here permit?
Fear not Poseidon; the strong god is free.
He has withdrawn from his own darkness and is now
His new great self at an Olympian height.
How can the immortal gods and Nature change?
All alters in a world that is the same.
Man most must change who is a soul of Time;
His gods too change and live in larger light.
Then man too may arise to greater heights,
His being draw nearer to the gods?
Perhaps.
But the blind nether forces still have power
And the ascent is slow and long is Time.
Yet shall Truth grow and harmony increase:
The day shall come when men feel close and one.
Meanwhile one forward step is something gained,
Since little by little earth must open to heaven
Till her dim soul awakes into the Light.