Part 11 (1/2)

ADMETUS (_erect and facing them_).

Behold, I count my wife's fate happier, Though all gainsay me, than mine own. To her Comes no more pain for ever; she hath rest And peace from all toil, and her name is blest.

But I am one who hath no right to stay Alive on earth; one that hath lost his way In fate, and strays in dreams of life long past....

Friends, I have learned my lesson at the last.

I have my life. Here stands my house. But now How dare I enter in? Or, entered, how Go forth again? Go forth, when none is there To give me a parting word, and I to her?...

Where shall I turn for refuge? There within, The desert that remains where she hath been Will drive me forth, the bed, the empty seat She sat in; nay, the floor beneath my feet Unswept, the children crying at my knee For mother; and the very thralls will be In sobs for the dear mistress that is lost.

That is my home! If I go forth, a host Of feasts and bridal dances, gatherings gay Of women, will be there to fright me away To loneliness. Mine eyes will never bear The sight. They were her friends; they played with her.

And always, always, men who hate my name Will murmur: ”This is he who lives in shame Because he dared not die! He gave instead The woman whom he loved, and so is fled From death. He counts himself a man withal!

And seeing his parents died not at his call He hates them, when himself he dared not die!”

Such mocking beside all my pain shall I Endure.... What profit was it to live on, Friend, with my grief kept and mine honour gone?

CHORUS.

I have sojourned in the Muse's land, Have wandered with the wandering star, Seeking for strength, and in my hand Held all philosophies that are; Yet nothing could I hear nor see Stronger than That Which Needs Must Be.

No Orphic rune, no Thracian scroll, Hath magic to avert the morrow; No healing all those medicines brave Apollo to the Asclepiad gave; Pale herbs of comfort in the bowl Of man's wide sorrow.

She hath no temple, she alone, Nor image where a man may kneel; No blood upon her altar-stone Crying shall make her hear nor feel.

I know thy greatness; come not great Beyond my dreams, O Power of Fate!

Aye, Zeus himself shall not unclose His purpose save by thy decerning.

The chain of iron, the Scythian sword, It yields and s.h.i.+vers at thy word; Thy heart is as the rock, and knows No ruth, nor turning.

[_They turn to_ ADMETUS.]

Her hand hath caught thee; yea, the keeping Of iron fingers grips thee round.

Be still. Be still. Thy noise of weeping Shall raise no lost one from the ground.

Nay, even the Sons of G.o.d are parted At last from joy, and pine in death....

Oh, dear on earth when all did love her, Oh, dearer lost beyond recover: Of women all the bravest-hearted Hath pressed thy lips and breathed thy breath.

Let not the earth that lies upon her Be deemed a grave-mound of the dead.

Let honour, as the G.o.ds have honour, Be hers, till men shall bow the head, And strangers, climbing from the city Her slanting path, shall muse and say: ”This woman died to save her lover, And liveth blest, the stars above her: Hail, Holy One, and grant thy pity!”

So pa.s.s the wondering words away.

LEADER.

But see, it is Alcmena's son once more, My lord King, cometh striding to thy door.

[_Enter_ HERACLES; _his dress is as in the last scene, but shows signs of a struggle. Behind come two Attendants, guiding between them a veiled Woman, who seems like one asleep or unconscious. The Woman remains in the background while_ HERACLES _comes forward._]

HERACLES.

Thou art my friend, Admetus; therefore bold And plain I tell my story, and withhold No secret hurt.--Was I not worthy, friend, To stand beside thee; yea, and to the end Be proven in sorrow if I was true to thee?

And thou didst tell me not a word, while she Lay dead within; but bid me feast, as though Naught but the draping of some stranger's woe Was on thee. So I garlanded my brow And poured the G.o.ds drink-offering, and but now Filled thy death-stricken house with wine and song.

Thou hast done me wrong, my brother; a great wrong Thou hast done me. But I will not add more pain In thine affliction.

Why I am here again, Returning, thou must hear. I pray thee, take And keep yon woman for me till I make My homeward way from Thrace, when I have ta'en Those four steeds and their b.l.o.o.d.y master slain.

And if--which heaven avert!--I ne'er should see h.e.l.las again, I leave her here, to be An handmaid in thy house. No labour small Was it that brought her to my hand at all.

I fell upon a contest certain Kings Had set for all mankind, sore buffetings And meet for strong men, where I staked my life And won this woman. For the easier strife Black steeds were prizes; herds of kine were cast For heavier issues, fists and wrestling; last, This woman.... Lest my work should all seem done For naught, I needs must keep what I have won; So prithee take her in. No theft, but true Toil, won her.... Some day thou mayst thank me, too.

ADMETUS.

'Twas in no scorn, no bitterness to thee, I hid my wife's death and my misery.

Methought it was but added pain on pain If thou shouldst leave me, and roam forth again Seeking another's roof. And, for mine own Sorrow, I was content to weep alone.