The Mortal Gods and Other Plays Part 6

_Bor._ Sir?

_Hud._ And your next tune Is Goldusan. Come, let's rehea.r.s.e.

_Bor._ My lord,----

[_Exeunt, lower right, as Chartrien and LeVal enter left_]

_Her._ You've come, dear Senor! Was it savagery To wrest the hour from you?

_LeV._ Too kindly done For such a name,--though I was deep in bond To sober thoughts, your Highness.

_Her._ Be so still.

We would not force our humor on your heart, But share your own.

_LeV._ [_Smiling_] Can you be sad?

_Her._ As rains That drench October. As the gray That fringes twilight on the dark of moons.

As seas that sob above a swallowed s.h.i.+p, Repenting storm. [_Leads to seat, right_]

Come, sir,--and I'll be sad In what degree you choose, though I could wish it Nearer a smile than rheum, and not so heavy But that its sigh may float upon a song, A gentle song that might be sorrow's garland When moan wears down. Wilt hear one now, my lord?

I have a music-maker yon whose lute Was nectared in a poet's tears the hour He lost his dream. Say you will hear him! Nay, That courtier "yes" can not o'ertake the "no"

Sped from your eyes. We'll have no music. Yet The soul must love it ere one can be sad To th' very sweet of sadness. O, I know!

_LeV._ I love it, but not here.

_Her._ What here forbids?

My bower! The eye translates its tenderness To fairy sound, nor need of pipe or strings.

_LeV._ I can not hear the bells of fairydom When life is making thunder's music 'gainst This bauble house of play----

_Her._ [_Rising_] Sir, you forget----

_LeV._ Nay, I remember!

_Her._ What do you remember?

_LeV._ Ah!... Pardon, princess!

_Cha._ May I mend this peace?

_Her._ [_Sitting again by LeVal_] It is not broken yet.

_LeV._ Your gentleness Has saved it, not my manners.

_Her._ Oh, my lord, Would I had grace to cover sorrow's breach As smoothly as a gap in courtesy!

Then you should smile!

_LeV._ I have a happiness That makes it thievery in me to take Your pity. You've a sadder need.

_Her._ I'll yield No jocund vantage to that brow of yours.

You hear this sombre braggart, Chartrien?

Speaks as I were Despair's own fosterling!

_LeV._ You are. As I am Hope's. Do you not gaze On earth's foul spots and cry "A sad world this!"

"We must endure!" "The dear G.o.d wills it so!"

And such and such like seed of misery Till hopelessness sprouts chronic?--building then Your house of life amid its smelling weeds, Where you may dance--or pray--till you forget Your creed keeps earth in tears?

_Her._ And yours, my lord?

_LeV._ Gives her a singing and forefeeling heart Whose courage cleaves renunciation's cloud That swathes her splendor and would sighing keep Her livid 'mong the stars!

_Her._ You would divide Omnipotence with G.o.d, and arrogant, a.s.sume the bigger half. But there are woes That even your hope, though it go winged and armored, Must fall before.

_LeV._ Not one that I'll not face Until its features mould me destiny.

The shape of radiance it shall wear for man 'Neath an unslandered Heaven! I could not live If in the life about me I saw not The world within this world, and sped my hope The way that it shall take.

_Her._ Is not that way Called Peace, Emilio?

_LeV._ Not the peace that spills More blood than war, builds bigger jails, and leaves More waifs to suck the stunting, poisonous breast Of Charity! Peace as white ashes spread Upon injustice' fly-blown wrack----

_Her._ [_Leaving him_] You are A revolutionist!

_LeV._ And black to you, For revolution leads into the horizon, And must be figured dark to rearward eyes Though G.o.d beyond gives welcome.

_Her._ [_Coming gently back_] May we not Be patient even as Christ, who found this world The home of poverty and left it so?

Did he not say the poor are ever with us?

_LeV._ You too must tap that last and golden nail In th' pauper's coffin!

_Her._ It is the nail of truth, If Christ spoke true.

_LeV._ Words uttered to his day, Not to all time. Not as a deathless brand Burning his own millennium. Not meant To take from man his goal, condemning him To hug an ulcer to the sick world's end, Which even your bosom must take to whitest bed Although your festrous partner be not guessed Nor visible. But if he did mean that---- That vicious thing--then he is false as h.e.l.l, Denying man's bright destiny,--and I, Who vouch the triumph of an angel race, Am more a G.o.d than he!

_Her._ You dare blaspheme----

_LeV._ Because it once was said to men, whom worms Made dust of twice ten hundred years ago, "The poor are always with you," such as you Shall not forever pick your way to ease O'er broken bodies, lifting up white brows And hiding crimson feet! Daring to make The Christ your sheltering sanction while you feed On others' lives, and keep injustice sleek Even as you cosset that dim thing, your soul, And preen the wings you think bear you aloft The puddled world!

_Her._ You lie! You do not know Our gentle hearts, our----

_LeV._ Gentle? O, you're nice, You later cannibals, and will not eat Of babes at table, but you'll pipe their blood From unoffending distance, while you pray Your conscience numb and swear the source is clean.

Some dare to name that fount the Love of G.o.d, And kneel him thanks!

_Her._ Oh, mad and impious!

Who is this, Chartrien, you've dared call your friend?

[_Megario steps from the grove_]

_Meg._ He's dumb as prudence, but my tongue is free.

This is Rejan LeVal, the man who hates Your father,--and my country's enemy.