Proserpine and Midas Part 4

_Eun._ How weary am I! and the hot sun flushes My cheeks that else were white with fear and grief[.]

E'er since that fatal day, dear sister nymph, On which we lost our lovely Proserpine, I have but wept and watched the livelong night And all the day have wandered through the woods[.]

_Ino._ How all is changed since that unhappy eve!

Ceres forever weeps, seeking her child, And in her rage has struck the land with blight; Trinacria mourns with her;--its fertile fields Are dry and barren, and all little brooks Struggling scarce creep within their altered banks; The flowers that erst were wont with bended heads, To gaze within the clear and gla.s.sy wave, Have died, unwatered by the failing stream.-- And yet their hue but mocks the deeper grief Which is the fountain of these bitter tears.

But who is this, that with such eager looks Hastens this way?-- [17]

_Eun._ 'Tis fairest Arethuse, A stranger naiad, yet you know her well.

_Ino._ My eyes were blind with tears.

_Enter Arethusa._

Dear Arethuse, Methinks I read glad tidings in your eyes, Your smiles are the swift messengers that bear A tale of coming joy, which we, alas!

Can answer but with tears, unless you bring To our grief solace, Hope to our Despair.

Have you found Proserpine? or know you where The loved nymph wanders, hidden from our search?

_Areth._ Where is corn-crowned Ceres? I have hastened To ease her anxious heart.

_Eun._ Oh! dearest Naiad, Herald of joy! Now will great Ceres bless Thy welcome coming & more welcome tale.

_Ino._ Since that unhappy day when Ceres lost Her much-loved child, she wanders through the isle; Dark blight is showered from her looks of sorrow;-- And where tall corn and all seed-bearing gra.s.s Rose from beneath her step, they wither now Fading under the frown of her bent brows: [18]

The springs decrease;--the fields whose delicate green Was late her chief delight, now please alone, Because they, withered, seem to share her grief.

_Areth._ Unhappy G.o.ddess! how I pity thee!

_Ino._ At night upon high Etna's topmost peak She lights two flames, that s.h.i.+ning through the isle Leave dark no wood, or cave, or mountain path, Their sunlike splendour makes the moon-beams dim, And the bright stars are lost within their day.

She's in yon field,--she comes towards this plain, Her loosened hair has fallen on her neck, Uncircled by the coronal of grain:-- Her cheeks are wan,--her step is faint & slow.

_Enter Ceres._

_Cer._ I faint with weariness: a dreadful thirst Possesses me! Must I give up the search?

Oh! never, dearest Proserpine, until I once more clasp thee in my vacant arms!

Help me, dear Arethuse! fill some deep sh.e.l.l With the clear waters of thine ice-cold spring, And bring it me;--I faint with heat and thirst.

_Areth._ My words are better than my freshest waves[:]

I saw your Proserpine-- [19]

_Cer._ Arethusa, where?

Tell me! my heart beats quick, & hope and fear Cause my weak limbs to fail me.--

_Areth._ Sit, G.o.ddess, Upon this mossy bank, beneath the shade Of this tall rock, and I will tell my tale.

The day you lost your child, I left my source.

With my Alpheus I had wandered down The sloping sh.o.r.e into the sunbright sea; And at the coast we paused, watching the waves Of our mixed waters dance into the main:-- When suddenly I heard the thundering tread Of iron hoofed steeds trampling the ground, And a faint shriek that made my blood run cold.

I saw the King of h.e.l.l in his black car, And in his arms he bore your fairest child, Fair as the moon encircled by the night,-- But that she strove, and cast her arms aloft, And cried, "My Mother!"--When she saw me near She would have sprung from his detested arms, And with a tone of deepest grief, she cried, "Oh, Arethuse!" I hastened at her call-- But Pluto when he saw that aid was nigh, Struck furiously the green earth with his spear, Which yawned,--and down the deep Tartarian gulph [20]

His black car rolled--the green earth closed above.

_Cer._ (_starting up_) Is this thy doom, great Jove? & shall h.e.l.l's king Quitting dark Tartarus, spread grief and tears Among the dwellers of your bright abodes?

Then let him seize the earth itself, the stars,-- And all your wide dominion be his prey!-- Your sister calls upon your love, great King!

As you are G.o.d I do demand your help!-- Restore my child, or let all heaven sink, And the fair world be chaos once again!

_Ino._ Look[!] in the East that loveliest bow is formed[;]

Heaven's single-arched bridge, it touches now The Earth, and 'mid the pathless wastes of heaven It paves a way for Jove's fair Messenger;-- Iris descends, and towards this field she comes.

_Areth._ Sovereign of Harvests, 'tis the Messenger That will bring joy to thee. Thine eyes light up With sparkling hope, thy cheeks are pale with dread.

_Enter Iris._

_Cer._ Speak, heavenly Iris! let thy words be poured Into my drooping soul, like dews of eve On a too long parched field.--Where is my Proserpine?

_Iris._ Sister of Heaven, as by Joves throne I stood [21]

The voice of thy deep prayer arose,--it filled The heavenly courts with sorrow and dismay: The Thunderer frowned, & heaven shook with dread I bear his will to thee, 'tis fixed by fate, Nor prayer nor murmur e'er can alter it.

If Proserpine while she has lived in h.e.l.l Has not polluted by Tartarian food Her heavenly essence, then she may return, And wander without fear on Enna's plain, Or take her seat among the G.o.ds above.

If she has touched the fruits of Erebus, She never may return to upper air, But doomed to dwell amidst the shades of death, The wife of Pluto and the Queen of h.e.l.l.

_Cer._ Joy treads upon the sluggish heels of care!

The child of heaven disdains Tartarian food.

Pluto[,] give up thy prey! restore my child!

_Iris._ Soon she will see again the sun of Heaven, By gloomy shapes, inhabitants of h.e.l.l, Attended, and again behold the field Of Enna, the fair flowers & the streams, Her late delight,--& more than all, her Mother.

_Ino._ Our much-loved, long-lost Mistress, do you come?

And shall once more your nymphs attend your steps? [22]

Will you again irradiate this isle-- That drooped when you were lost?

[Footnote: MS. _this isle?--That drooped when you were lost_]

& once again Trinacria smile beneath your Mother's eye?

(_Ceres and her companions are ranged on one side in eager expectation; from, the cave on the other, enter Proserpine, attended by various dark & gloomy shapes bearing torches; among which Ascalaphus. Ceres & Proserpine embrace;--her nymphs surround her._)

_Cer._ Welcome, dear Proserpine! Welcome to light, To this green earth and to your Mother's arms.

You are too beautiful for Pluto's Queen; In the dark Stygian air your blooming cheeks Have lost their roseate tint, and your bright form Has faded in that night unfit for thee.

_Pros._ Then I again behold thee, Mother dear:-- Again I tread the flowery plain of Enna, And clasp thee, Arethuse, & you, my nymphs; I have escaped from hateful Tartarus, The abode of furies and all loathed shapes That thronged around me, making h.e.l.l more black.

Oh! I could wors.h.i.+p thee, light giving Sun, Who spreadest warmth and radiance o'er the world.

Look at [Footnote: MS. Look at--the branches.]

the branches of those chesnut trees, That wave to the soft breezes, while their stems Are tinged with red by the sun's slanting rays. [23]

And the soft clouds that float 'twixt earth and sky.

How sweet are all these sights! There all is night!

No G.o.d like that (_pointing to the sun_) smiles on the Elysian plains, The air [is] windless, and all shapes are still.

_Iris._ And must I interpose in this deep joy, And sternly cloud your hopes? Oh! answer me, Art thou still, Proserpine, a child of light?

Or hast thou dimmed thy attributes of Heaven By such Tartarian food as must for ever Condemn thee to be Queen of h.e.l.l & Night?

_Pros._ No, Iris, no,--I still am pure as thee: Offspring of light and air, I have no stain Of h.e.l.l. I am for ever thine, oh, Mother!

_Cer._ (_to the shades from h.e.l.l_) Begone, foul visitants to upper air!

Back to your dens! nor stain the sunny earth By shadows thrown from forms so foul--Crouch in!

Proserpine, child of light, is not your Queen!