III.
Once more, once more, O yet again once more, Spent is my breath with fear and weariness! Vain toil it is to track this tangled wild-- This rank o'ergrown imprisoned solitude-- Whose very flowers are fetters in my way; Where I am chained about with vines and briers, Led blindfold on through mazes tenantless, And not a friendly echo answers me. Oh for a foot as airy as the wing Of the young brooding dove, to overpass, On swift commission of my true heart's love, All metes and bournes of this lone wilderness: So should I quickly find my truant lord. But, as it is, I can no farther go. What shall I do? despair? lie down and die? If I give o'er my search I shall despair, And if I do despair, I quickly die. Avaunt Despair! I will not yet despair. Begone, grim herald of oblivious Death! Strong-pinioned Hope, embrace thy wings about me; Shake not my fingers from thy golden chain. Oh still bear up and pity Ariadne! Alas! what hope have I but only Theseus, And Theseus is not here to pity me. Ah me, my Theseus, whither art thou gone! Thou dost forget that thou hast called me wife, And with sweet influence of holy vows Grappled and grafted me unto thyself. Oh how shall I, not knowing where thou art, Be all myself--thou dost dissever me. Yonder I'll rest awhile, for now I see, Through meshes of the internetted leaves, A little plot, girt with a living wall; A sylvan chamber, that the frolic Pan Has built and bosomed with a leafy dome, And windowed with a narrow glimpse of heaven. Its floor, sky-litten with the noontide sun, Shows garniture of many colored flowers, More dainty than the broidered webs of Tyre; And all about, from beeches, oaks and pines, Recesses deep of vernal solitude, Come sounds of calm that woo my ruffled spirits To a resigned and quiet contemplation. Yond brook, that, like a child, runs wide astray, Sings and skips on, nor knows its loneliness; A squirrel chatters at a doorless nut: A hammer bird drums on his hollow bark; And bits of winged life, with aëry voices, Tinkle like fountains in a corridor. Fair haunt of peace, ye quiet cadences, Ye leafy caves of sadness and sweet sounds, That have no feeling nor a fellowship With the rash moods of terror and of pain, I did not think ye could, in such an hour, So steal from me, as in a sleep, a dream-- What is't that comes between me and the light? Protect me, Jove! Lo, what untended flowers, That all night long, like little wakeful babes, Darkly repine, and weep themselves asleep, In the orient morning lift their pretty eyes, Tear smiling, to behold the sun their sire Enter the gilded chambers of the east-- Strange droopingness! What quality of air?
[Ariadne falls asleep.--Enter, the Dryads, as before.]
_1st Dryad_: Sprinkle out of flower bells Mortal sense entrapping spells; Make no sound On the ground; Strew and lap and lay around. Gnat nor snail Here assail, Beetle, slug, nor spider here, Now descend, Nor depend, Off from any thorny spear.
_2d Dryad_: So conclude. Whatever seems, We have her in a chain of dreams.
_3d Dryad_: As fair as foreign! Who is here In disarray of princely gear? Here were a lass whose royal port Might make an awe in Heaven's court; But sorrowing beauty testifies In tears that journey from her eyes, To touches of interior pain; And on her hand a sanguine stain. Hair unlooped and sandals torn, Zone unloosened from its bourne; Surely some wandering bride of Sorrow.
_4th Dryad_: So let her sleep, and bid good morrow.
_1st Dryad_: But, sisters, me it doth astound, What maid it is that we have bound, And Bacchus not, nor Ceres found.
_2d Dryad_: Bacchus has gone to Arcady; Where certain swains, that merry be, Have found a happy thunder stone, That Jove has cast the vale upon; So take occasion to be blest, And Bacchus was invited guest. His shaggy crew have helped the plan. Silenus made the pipes of Pan, The Satyrs teased the vines about, And Bacchus sent a lubber lout, Who lurked, and stole, ere wink of moon, The heedless Amalthea's horn. Now all are gone to Arcady, Head bent on rousing jollity. Now riot rout will be, anon, That shall the very sun aston, By waters whilst, and on the leas, Under the old fantastic trees. The oldest swain with longest cane, And sad experience in his brain, On such mad mirth shall fail to wink, And grimly go aside to think.
_3d Dryad_: But, cedar-cinctured sister, say, What news has winged our Queen away?
_2d Dryad_: Ceres has gone to see the feast Made by the King of all East; Who breasts a beard so black and fair; And breathes a wealth of gorgeous air, Now all divided with Gulnare-- Whose odorous train came up from far, Last night, at shut of evening star, And filled, with pomp majestical, The gardens and the palace hall. So Ceres runs to give them aid, In likeness of an Indian maid-- Presents them each a dove apiece, And wishes blessing and increase.
_3d Dryad_: Hark! hark! I hear her rolling car. Our Queen is not so very far.
_4th Dryad_: Now make your faces long, I ween Here comes our sweet majestic Queen.
[Enter Ceres, in likeness of a stately woman, bearing poppies and ears of wheat in her hands, and crowned with a wreath of flowers and berries.]
_Ceres_: What! loose, and chatting here at play, All in the broad and staring day! Why children! this is something queer!
_1st Dryad:_ But, mistress, see the sleeper here.
_Ceres:_ A fair excuse, I own, the sight! Theseus deserted her last night.
_2d Dryad:_ How knew you that, my lady dear?
_Ceres:_ Well sought--for I was far from here: Whiles o'er the crisp Ionian main I shook the winnowed dragon rein--
_3d Dryad:_ Invented error! Sister! fie! Our Queen has trapped you in a lie.
_2d Dryad:_ A lie!
_Ceres_ A lie?
_3d Dryad:_ Deceit forgets How Truth is always trailing nets. While you, sweet Empress, berry crowned, Were on the Ionian westward bound, Our sister puffed you towards the east, With words about a wedding feast.
_Ceres_ How thin a bubble blame may be! I sought for doves in Italy; But orient was my main intent, And on an Indian nuptial bent.
_2d Dryad:_ Now honey-lips, the lie is where?
_4th Dryad:_ She weeps--
_2d Dryad:_ Fool fingered thing!--
_Ceres_ Forbear. Whiles o'er the crisp Ionian main I shook the winnowed dragon rein, A Triton clove the wake behind, And, with a hailing will, did wind Such parley through his crankled horn, As all the air was echo torn. I stayed--he told what did betide Of truant Theseus and his bride; Which having heard, I did repair Unto that subterranean lair Wherein the dreadful Sisters three Vex out the threads of destiny, But they were sorely overtasked; So techy, too, that when I asked If he could not be plagued for this Unloving piece of business, With knots and burs upon his thread, They would not speak, nor lift the head: Yet saw I how his flax did run Smoothly, and much is yet unspun.
_4th Dryad:_ Sweet Queen, adieu--come, let's away, We keep no sunshine holiday.
_Ceres_ Stay, children, stay. Poor things! I do remember me, How I did seek Proserpiné. We must not leave her thus forlorn: Auroral grace in her is born, And, rarer else, the finest sense Of feeling and intelligence. Mortals of such ethereal grain Are quickened both for joy and pain; Theirs is the affluence of joy, And pain that sorely doth annoy. And, therefore, if we leave her thus, To find the truth of Theseus, She will, with such a madness burn, And do herself so sad a turn, As that the very thought erewhile, Will drive us all to quit the isle.
_1st Dryad:_ Alack! O no! What must be done?
_Ceres_ Go, you, and you, and every one-- To stay such heart distracting harm, Go, each bring flowers upon her arm: Pink, pansy, poppy, pimpernell, Acanthus, almond, asphodel.
[The Dryads disperse and gather flowers with which they return to Ceres.]
_Ceres_ Now all join hands; [They join hands.] Fair fall the eyes Of any weary destinies! I bruise these flowers, and so set free Their virtue for adversity. Then, with my unguent finger tips, Touch twice and once on cheeks and lips. When this sweet influence comes to naught, Vexed she shall be, but not distraught. And now let music winnow thought: Bucolic sound of horn and flute, In distant echo nearly mute. Then louder borne, and swelling near, Make bolder murmur in her ear.
_2d Dryad:_ See, see, what change is in her face:
_Ceres_ Break hands, the lady wakes apace.
[Ceres and the Dryads loose hands and disappear.]