Polyuecte [14]
death to court?
POLY. I think of more than this; I know what thou wouldst say. Our life is ours to use, and we that debt must pay. What life is this men love? An idle, empty dream, Where nothing can endure,--where all things only seem. Death ends their every joy which fickle Fortune leaves, They gain a royal throne to learn how pomp deceives; They gather wealth that men may envy their estate, They clear a path by blood, so envy turns to hate. Such vast ambition mine as Caesar never knew, Death bounds it not, for death is but its servant true. Peace that the world ne'er gave, and cannot take away, That peace, Pauline, is mine, mine wholly, mine for aye! Nor time, nor fate, nor chance, nor cruel war, Can touch this peace, or this my kingdom mar. Is this poor life--the creature of a day For endless peace too great a price to pay?
PAUL. 'Out on these Christian dreams!' my reason cries; Whene'er they speak of truth, they utter lies. Thou say'st: 'To win such prize my life is naught!' But is thy life thine own? How was it bought? Our life an heirloom to our country due; What gave thee birth, demands thy service too? Pay, then thy debt to her who has the right!
POLY. Ah, for my country I would gladly fight! I know the glory of a hero's name, I feel the thrill,--I recognise the claim. My life I owe to whom I owe my sword-- But most to Him who gave it--to the Lord! Oh, if to die for fatherland be sweet, To die for Him--my God--what word is meet?
PAUL. Which God?
POLY. Hush! hush! Pauline; the God who hears And answers prayers,--gives hopes, assuages fears. Thy gods are deaf and senseless, maimed and weak, Tongues, mouths they have, and yet they cannot speak. The Christians' God alone is mine,--is thine, Jehovah only rules--supreme--divine!
PAUL. Adore Him in thy heart, but say no word!
POLY. What! Can I call Jove and Jehovah--Lord?
PAUL. One moment feign. Ah, let Severus go! Let but my father all his kindness show!
POLY. Another Father mine! His love most dear Removes me from a world begirt with fear. For life's stern race too weak, too frail am I, So, by kind death, He gives me Victory. Pure from the holy font--(His mercies never fail!) He brings His barque to port, when it hath scarce set sail. Couldst thou but understand how poor this earth, Couldst thou but grasp how great this second birth! And yet, why speak of treasure rare concealed From one to whom light is yet unrevealed?
PAUL. O cruel! I can strangle pain no more! Is this the fruit of all thy heavenly lore? They say thy Christ His enemies did bless, Thou addest insult to my deep distress. How is my soul so dark--which was so fair?-- Thou call'dst me 'lovely'--'dear'--'beyond compare!'-- Of my bereavement have I said no word, I stilled my grief that I might soothe my lord! They say that love has wings, and all they say is true, For all thy love has flown; yet can I ne'er undo The vows I made, the troth I plighted binds me still! Thou fain wouldst quit thy wife, and thou shalt have thy will. Oh, but to leave my side with rapture, ecstasy, No jealous Christ can will: why grudge me one poor sigh? This joy, this transport fierce, endeavour to conceal. I do not share thy creed, but I, at least, can feel! Why gloat o'er heavenly gain, crowns, palms, I know not what-- Where Polyeucte is blest, but where Pauline is not? Soul, body, spirit, I am thy true wife, to own That I am but a bar to happiness unknown!
POLY. Alas!
PAUL. O! that 'Alas!'--so faint, so tame! Yet, if repentant from thy heart it came, 'Twould waken hope, still brief, and banish fears: I wait the birth of thy reluctant tears.
POLY. These tears I shed! O, might the Spirit pour Through them the light, the light that I adore-- Then were my only grief all swept away, For thou wouldst join me in the realms of day! Else Heaven itself would have its bitterness, Should I look down to witness thy distress! O God, who lov'st the dust on which Thy breath Hath stamped Thine image true--save her from death! The only death that kills, and let my love From Heaven woo her to the realms above!
POLY. I think of more than this; I know what thou wouldst say. Our life is ours to use, and we that debt must pay. What life is this men love? An idle, empty dream, Where nothing can endure,--where all things only seem. Death ends their every joy which fickle Fortune leaves, They gain a royal throne to learn how pomp deceives; They gather wealth that men may envy their estate, They clear a path by blood, so envy turns to hate. Such vast ambition mine as Caesar never knew, Death bounds it not, for death is but its servant true. Peace that the world ne'er gave, and cannot take away, That peace, Pauline, is mine, mine wholly, mine for aye! Nor time, nor fate, nor chance, nor cruel war, Can touch this peace, or this my kingdom mar. Is this poor life--the creature of a day For endless peace too great a price to pay?
PAUL. 'Out on these Christian dreams!' my reason cries; Whene'er they speak of truth, they utter lies. Thou say'st: 'To win such prize my life is naught!' But is thy life thine own? How was it bought? Our life an heirloom to our country due; What gave thee birth, demands thy service too? Pay, then thy debt to her who has the right!
POLY. Ah, for my country I would gladly fight! I know the glory of a hero's name, I feel the thrill,--I recognise the claim. My life I owe to whom I owe my sword-- But most to Him who gave it--to the Lord! Oh, if to die for fatherland be sweet, To die for Him--my God--what word is meet?
PAUL. Which God?
POLY. Hush! hush! Pauline; the God who hears And answers prayers,--gives hopes, assuages fears. Thy gods are deaf and senseless, maimed and weak, Tongues, mouths they have, and yet they cannot speak. The Christians' God alone is mine,--is thine, Jehovah only rules--supreme--divine!
PAUL. Adore Him in thy heart, but say no word!
POLY. What! Can I call Jove and Jehovah--Lord?
PAUL. One moment feign. Ah, let Severus go! Let but my father all his kindness show!
POLY. Another Father mine! His love most dear Removes me from a world begirt with fear. For life's stern race too weak, too frail am I, So, by kind death, He gives me Victory. Pure from the holy font--(His mercies never fail!) He brings His barque to port, when it hath scarce set sail. Couldst thou but understand how poor this earth, Couldst thou but grasp how great this second birth! And yet, why speak of treasure rare concealed From one to whom light is yet unrevealed?
PAUL. O cruel! I can strangle pain no more! Is this the fruit of all thy heavenly lore? They say thy Christ His enemies did bless, Thou addest insult to my deep distress. How is my soul so dark--which was so fair?-- Thou call'dst me 'lovely'--'dear'--'beyond compare!'-- Of my bereavement have I said no word, I stilled my grief that I might soothe my lord! They say that love has wings, and all they say is true, For all thy love has flown; yet can I ne'er undo The vows I made, the troth I plighted binds me still! Thou fain wouldst quit thy wife, and thou shalt have thy will. Oh, but to leave my side with rapture, ecstasy, No jealous Christ can will: why grudge me one poor sigh? This joy, this transport fierce, endeavour to conceal. I do not share thy creed, but I, at least, can feel! Why gloat o'er heavenly gain, crowns, palms, I know not what-- Where Polyeucte is blest, but where Pauline is not? Soul, body, spirit, I am thy true wife, to own That I am but a bar to happiness unknown!
POLY. Alas!
PAUL. O! that 'Alas!'--so faint, so tame! Yet, if repentant from thy heart it came, 'Twould waken hope, still brief, and banish fears: I wait the birth of thy reluctant tears.
POLY. These tears I shed! O, might the Spirit pour Through them the light, the light that I adore-- Then were my only grief all swept away, For thou wouldst join me in the realms of day! Else Heaven itself would have its bitterness, Should I look down to witness thy distress! O God, who lov'st the dust on which Thy breath Hath stamped Thine image true--save her from death! The only death that kills, and let my love From Heaven woo her to the realms above!