That the grave Senate has proclaimed thee
Goddess?
Krasinski - The Undivine Comedy
For the people there rejoice not
under the leadership of their own chosen chiefs, but are
bowed under a heavy yoke,— clothing their shame in
gold, in silks, in sculptured marbles, and licking the dust
before the city which rises between the two seas.
This city, as is well known to the world, is the Queen
of lies and oppression. Under the spell of her poison-
ous breath, brother rises against brother, and son against
father, and traitors against the land which has given
them birth; and as untiringly as Time, she swallows up
all the kings of the earth. The calm flies from the brow
of thy father as bespeaks; it darkens like the tempest
breaking over the flying ship.
" Once was my Hellas the soul of the nations ; her
songs and oracles ruled the world ! But the haughty bar-
barians from the East rushed in multitudinous hosts upon
her, with the clang of swords and the whir of arrows.
The heavenly fire, torn from the gods, was her only por-
tion. Alas ! my beautiful, unfortunate Hellas trusted in
the accursed city seated upon the seven hills; rough
hordes pressed from it to her happy isles and myrtle-
crowned shores; cruel and false, it seized my wretched
country, not by might of arms and glorious war, but
divided her by the poison of treachery, and intoxicated
her with the nectar of false promises! "
At this moment the clouds break away, a few stars fl:ime
from the heavens ; but when Hermes again looks forth the
heavenly eyes are dimmed with scudding vapors and ex-
halations from the land, and he cries to the steersman:
'* To the right ! Steer all night to the right, and at dawn
we shall float in the Straits of Gades ! "
Then folding thy mother closely to his bosom, he tells
her of his mighty ancestors ; of Philopocmen, justly called
the last of the Greeks, who fought against the plots of the
accursed city, then of the barbarian king who, after the
losses of thirty years, at last fell by his own hand, since
which time no man had be^ n bold enough to undertake
286 I RID ION.
the protection of the enslaved world. After a short si-
lence dedicated to the memory of the great Mithridates,
he resumes his account, while thy mother listens motion-
less and with her blue eyes fastened upon him.
*' Crimhild, through thy inspiration thy god has re-
vealed what was divined in the vague foresight of my
fathers, what I myself have dimly seen and felt in the
flames of my own hate. Hail, daughter of the sea-king !
The city of sin, after the destruction of the free and the
living, has at last turned the sword against her own breast \
" Her treasures, collected from every part of the earth,
are no longer sufficient to satisfy her lusts; her arms arc
already slipping from her hands, her last hours are tolling
in the midst of carousals and murders.
"Laugh at the storms and waves, my wife, for we are
not to die here, — we are to take our part in that mighty
destruction ! "
After these words the voice of the hero is still fuller
of scorn and bitterness; he speaks of the gods of Hellas,
once so mighty, but in whom men have lost all faith :
their oracles have long been dumb, but their forms still
stand, for the world grown old cannot readily forget the
customs of her youth. All the gods of the earth are to be
seen in the accursed city; some of exceeding beauty from
the hand of the Greek sculptor, worthy of immortality ;
others distorted, monstrous, grown up without form from
the sands of the desert, hewn from the peaks of distant
hills, — but he tells her that he knows there is but one
God, who in the beginning laid his hand upon the night
and whirl of chaos, and conquered it for ever and ever !
"His name? " cries the Priestess of Odin. "Fate,"
he replies, as he goes to the helm of the vessel, for the
night is dark and the storm is again upon them.
Son of my Thought, dost thou remember the lovely isle
of Chiara, ui)on which passed thy childhood with thy
sister, the divine Elsinoe? Remcmberest thou the expe-
ditions of thy father, when, spreading his mast with sails.
IRIDION. 287
— not the three-cornered sails of the Greek, but the tall
sheets of the Barbarian, — with the Dacian helmet on his
head, and the battle-axe of the Cimbrian in his hand, he
would, favored by the night, slip out of the cove and
steer boldly on through the windings of the Archipelago?
All the thoughts of Jugurtha and Mithridates burn in his
soul, his intents of Vengeance lead him to seek the wildest
Barbarians ; now he visits the swamps of the Palus Moeo-
tis, the wastes where horses fly fleet as the wind ; now he
goes to the deserts of Africa where range the Syrtians
dipping their arrows in the deadliest poisons ; anywhere
and everywhere he hurries where he deems it possible to
raise enemies against his enemy. He presses the hand of
savage kings, learns their tongues and the use of their
arms, lavishes rich gifts upon them, and stimulates their
desires by promises of pleasure and booty.
During these long absences, the days pass in pain for
thy mother. But no stranger nor slave -ever reads a trace
of anguish in her noble features, nor do her lips quiver
when she bids them to be still.
But often, taking thee and Elsinoe by the hand, she
leads you through the long halls to the interior of the
palace where, amid niches covered with moss and shells,
stands a fierce warrior of rock.
Immortal rage wrinkles his broad low brow, his hands
hold the skull of a slaughtered enemy, at his feet are piled
long icicles and blocks of ice cut from Parian marble.
Thy mother bows her head before him, and thinks of her
vanished Fatherland.
"Iridion, my Sigurd, thou wilt never see the Silver
Land of streams, nor thy Grandfather, the King of Men 1
Look ! there stands my holy God ! My dreadful Inspirer !
The Lord of Valhalla ! the invincible Odin! " Then
pressing thy sister to her bosom: " Where is thy father,
Elsinoe? Speak, and tell~me where he lingers. I hear
the roaring of the winds and the dull sobbing of the
waves ; his tall bark rocks on the fathomless abyss of
waters, or, stripped of its winged sails, drives on some
coast accursed ! . . . But no, he will chain the storms,
escape the Barbarians, and return home with the fame of
a demigod ! "
288 IRIDION.
And when the horn of the returning hero is heard
winding over the sea, nearer and ever nearer through the
myrtle groves; when Hermes, bronzed by the sun and
weather-beaten by the tempests, throws himself into the
arms of his wife, his dark eye glittering with passion and
flashing with triumphant hope ; — happy, happy days return
to Chiara ; the Priestess forgets her dark forebodings, and
peaceful and glad you all^vander together over grass and
flowers, white sands and shells, through halls of marble,
among tripods and perfumed incense, and when evening
comes, you rest upon the lap of your mother, or in the
strong arms of your father, and when he blesses you at
night before you go to rest, with his hand upon your
bowed heads, he says : Remember to hate Rome / When
grown tip pursue her with a curse ! You, Iridion, with fire
and sword f You, Elsi^io'e, with prophecies and woman^ s art !
Ofttimes comes a Proconsul, Praetor, or officer of the
Emperor to Chiara; then long couches are laid and tables
spread with luxuries ; the wine of Lesbia pours in streams,
and the voices of the female slaves, accompanied by the
lutes of the males, chant the hymns of old Homer: —
*' Anacreon ! Anacreon ! " cry the Romans. With scorn-
ful smiles thy father beckons to the singers, fills the cups
of the Romans, gives fresh wreaths, and when they fall
into uproar and merriment, he boldly recounts the deeds
of the Past, relates the glories of the contest with Car-
thage, sings of the slaughtered legions of Varus, of the
revolt of Sertorius in Spain, and drinks the health of the
P^mperor wliile he crushes the cuj) in his clinched hand.
The thirteenth anniversary of the day on which the
Priestess had forsaken her god is now rapidly approach-
ing. Her voice grows wild when she calls her children ;
her looks are sad as she presses them to her breast. She
speaks of her f:ither, her motlier, her sister, the Chiefs of
her People ; half-broken farewells thrill her quivering
lips ; but in the presence of Hermes she tries to collect
her thoughts.
" Crimhild, daughter of kings, what is it oppresses
thee? "
" Hast thou never heard of the vengeance of the immor-
tal Spirits, Hermes? For a happy time I have been only
IRWION. 2 89
thine, — on the farthest confines of the world is an island
covered with ice, — a flaming mountain rises from its heart,
— the Giant of Death lies there enchained, — his arm is
already stretched forth to grasp me, — his hand will soon
hangover the depths to hurl the white web of my life into
the bottomless abyss ! "
Hermes fondly stretches his hand above her temples ;
its shadow falls like a stream of peace upon her brow, and
presses into her soul.
" Crimhild, look up to the glowing sky of Greece, and
out upon its blue sea ! Turn not back to the gray clouds
of the North, nor to its harsh God ! The star of Amphi-
lochus shines upon and guards thee ! He will not suffer
thee to be betrayed to the Evil Spirits ! "
But a heavy weight is on his heart !
What cry is that which breaks from the interior of the
palace, echoing through the vaults, and losing itself
among the pillars of the hall? The slaves hasten to the
inner rooms, enter the apartment of their lord ; there,
stretched upon a couch of porphyry, lies the Priestess ;
Hermes, the Greek, with bowed head stands beside her,
and crushes with his feet a cup whose rim is still beaded
with pearly drops. The slaves veil their eyes with droop-
ing lids, stand, listen, wait; but when Amphilochus lifts
his face, and turns it towards them, they shiver; for the
first time in his life anguish which he cannot master
distorts the godlike features of their lord.
" Go, bring Iridion with his sister here !
" Crimhild, I bid defiance to thy savage god ! There,
where surrounded by his heroes he drinks hot blood from
human skulls, on the highest throne of his dread palace, —
even there shall press the blasting curse of the Greek Am-
philochus ! . , . Oh, leave me not, my wife ! in vain ! in
vain ! But a few drops remain of the accursed draught,
— the whole cup of poison seethes in thy white breast I
Oh, Crimhild! Crimhild! "
She raises her head ; her face is as white as a pale statue
resting upon a sarcophagus :
"I saw him thrice last night, — he came from Valhalla
like an ocean of gloom, and cried to me : My Priestess !
*' He stretched out his strong arm, loaded with iron,
25*
290
IRIDION.
over the sleeping Iridion, the sleeping Elsinoe, and
menaced them with his resistless power. He threatened
to curse and blast their whole being unless I came to
him !
" For a time I was only thine, — but see ! there at his feet
lie the knife of sacrifice, the black veil, and the death-
wreath of a priestess ! When I die, place the knife at my
side, shroud me in the black veil, and wind the wreath
around my brow ! "
She rises, mounts the marble steps on the top of which
stands Odin ; she bends her noble form before him ; she
stretches out her white arms, trembling as if she would
fain wave away the shadow of death, while the folds of
her long white robe sweep the steps on which she stands;
then she descends and supports herself upon her husband ;
he winds his arm around her, and together they enter the
sanctuary. He totters, for he battles with an unseen,
unknown power, casting such looks to Heaven as Prome-
theus from his rock of pain, or as Laocoon in his anguish
lifts reproachfully to the gods from the fatal coast of the
sea; but he stoops not to tears, and is silent in his woe.
Pate seizes both in an irresistible grasp !
Then for the last time, Iridion, her look rests upon thy
young head ! At the feet of Odin she greets thee, as a
last farewell, with the name of thy grandfother : " Sigurd !
be the terror of the Proud ! "
" Elsinoe, my sjjirit will be ever with thee ! Remem-
ber the Silver I^and of streams, and forget not my god !
My children, I die for you ! "
Her lips grow pale, blue shadows fall around her azure
eyes, — now slie calls you both, — and then waves you
away from her poisoned breast ! Suddenly her thoughts
wander, — they fly afar to other places and to other times,
— her gray-haired father bows his head upon his powerful
hand, — the curses of the sea-kings are in her ears, — she
stretches out her arms, and, dying, utters prophecies as
the young Priestess of Odin was wont to do :
"To Battle! To Battle, my Ikothers ! Raise your
tents upon the seven hills, — upon the Capitol itself your
feast is spread, — the skulls of blood await the sons of Odin,
■ — fur below you, gnashing her teeth and wailing, — pros-
IRIDION.
291
trate — ruined — trodden in crimson pools, — lies Rome !
Rome ! Rome ! "
She falls exhausted at the feet of her god ; Amphilochus
raises her in his close embrace ; she tries to wind her arms
around his neck, but they sink powerless ! She falls back-
ward, — her hair hangs lower, lower to the ground, — and
a lifeless corpse at last sinks from the trembling hands of
Hermes upon the marble floor !
He kneels beside it, places the knife of sacrifice in its
hand, shrouds the black veil about it, and twines the
death-wreath of the priestess round the cold brow !
Then swiftly rising, as if seized by sudden madness, he
cries: ''Slaves, bring the axe from the Cimbrian Cher-
sonesus ! "
They bring it, trembling as they give it to their lord ;
he grasps it firmly in his powerful hands, gathers all his
mortal strength to combat the Immortal, and strides to
the dread image ! He looks upon it, — lifts the heavy
axe, — waves it thrice round his head, — it falls ! The god
is shattered to the earth, and Amphilochus, in despairing
silence, tramples the fragments of his enemy under his
feet.
Such is thy lineage, thy Past, descendant of Philopoe-
men, grandson of Sigurd, king of men, — O slumbering
Iridion !
Thy father leaves the home of his ancestors upon Chi-
ara's isle, and with the urn of Crimhild goes to Rome;
having lost what he loved, he will live with his enemies,
that he may at least hate with all the passion of his soul.
And ever and ever more nearly approaches the longed-
for day of Vengeance and Destruction.
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
H ELI OGAB ALUS, Emperor of Rome.
Alexander Severus, his Cousin and Successor.
Iridiox, son of Afnphilochus, the Greek, and Crimhild,
Priestess of Odin.
Victor, Christian Bishop.
Simeon, Christian Priest.
Ulpian Domitian, Consul.
Masinissa, an Old Man from the Desert of Mauritania.
Eutychian, Prefect of the Prcetorian Guard.
Aristomachus.
Lucius Tubero.
Cubullus.
rupilius.
A Philosopher.
SciPio, first known as Sporus ; Slave and Gladiator.
Verres.
Alboin.
PiLADES, a Slave, Master of Iridion's Household.
Euphorion, Chief of the Gladiators of Iridion.
Elsinoe, Sister of Iridion.
Mammea, Mother of Alexander Severus.
Metella, a Roman Maiden.
Votary of the Temple of Venus.
Female Slaves.
Female Chorus.
Christian Priests, Priests of Mithras, Old and Young
Christians, Soldiers, Gladiators, Barbarians, Attend-
ants, Slaves, Ethiopians, awi/ Infernals.
292
IRIDION.
ACT I.
SCENE I. The palace of Iridion I'fi Rome. A vast hall
adorned with a double roiv of pillars stretchifig i7i per-
spective until they vanish in the distance. A foirntain
sparkles in its midst ; incense and peifume burn on tri-
pods scattered through the hall. Iridion, in Greek cos-
tume, is seen lying at the base of the statue of his father,
Hermes Amphilochus. Slaves are passing to and fro,
kindling lights in lamps of alabaster.
First Slave. The son of Hermes sleeps; his weary
head
Rests at the feet of great Amphilochus.
Second Slave. On the cold marble he has sunk to rest.
Third Slave. His sister, our young mistress, wrings
her hands,
And in the Gyneceum ever weeps. '
Fourth Slave. By Pollux ! I, from good authority.
Have heard she will be carried off to-night
By the fierce Moors of Heliogabalus. '
First Slave. Peace with Iridion ! Let us retire
That he may still repose.
(^Exeunt Slaves. )
Iridion. My faithful slaves !
Like silent shadows have they stolen away
With wishes for my rest. Yet I but seemed to sleep.
Thou knowest. Father, I must wake and watch
For them, for all ! Twilight already here?
(^He rises from the base of the statue, and advances to a
brazen shield from which hangs a sword. )
293
294
IRIDION.
The dark hour is upon me ! They come to seize . . .
Ha ! did not Brutus offer his own sons ? . . .
But Elsinoe ! Elsinoe ! Woe !
{He strikes the shield. )
She comes ! Sad as an image of despair she glides ; .
A cypress-wreath wound round her broad white brow,
Such as her mother wore when Odin came
In wratli to tear her from us.
Elsinoe (enterifig). Are the Moors here?
Has the Accursed already sent his chariots
To capture me ?
Iridion. Not yet, O Elsinoe !
I called thee hither, sister, but to breathe
The spirit of our sire into thy soul
For the last time. Be brave ! we part to-night !
Elsinoe. Iridion! Brother! Shame and infamy !
Iridion. Nay, know'st thou not that Caesar's mad with
love?
That statues rise to thee throughout imperial Rome ?
That the grave Senate has proclaimed thee Goddess? ^
Hope of our House, and jewel of my heart, #
My sunny-haired, — thou art no longer mine !
Thou innocent victim born to avenge our wrongs,
Our sire's dishonor, and our country's shame !
Elsinoe. Yes. I have known it all from childhood's
hour.
And am prepared for direst sacrifice !
But not to-day — no — nor to-morrow — let it be !
I must have time to collect my utmost strength ;
To be taught by Masinissa ; time to drain
The cup of poison held to shuddering lips
By thee I My brother ! The vilest criminal
Has time to prepare for death !
Save me at least to-night, Iridion !
Iridion. I cannot, virgin victim ! chosen Bride !
Prepare for doom ! The whirlwind knows no rest !
Haste drives us o'er the path we must together tread.
Elsinoe (throwing her arm round his neck).
Have you forgotten how we used to sj^ort
The live-long day o'er bright Chiara's plains?
How oft I've wreathed thy head with roses sweet,
IRIDION. 295
And myrtle flowers ? How clearly I have loved thee ?
Have pity, brother ! Send me not to shame !
Indian. Tempt me not to compassion ! Tears are vain !
Eisinoe. Why thus complain, thus suffer? Hasnotpoyer
Been always given man to release himself
At will from gods or men, by seeking death?
I^She drmvs out his dagger. ) See how thy dagger glitters,
bright and keen ; —
Let us dull it in my heart, Iridion !
Iridion. And scorn the aim for which our father lived !
No, we must bear with life and misery,
That the great spirit of Amphilochus
May joy among the shades. Once the strong arm
Of one brave man might save a nation ; now
All that has passed away ! We're born in times
When even honor must be sacrificed.
My Eisinoe, Fate is hurrying on,
But few, few moments more are thine and mine ;
Then must this sunny hair be gayly wreathed
With bridal roses ; thou must robe thyself
In magic and bewildering loveliness.
{^He clasps her in his arms. ')
Lay thy doomed head once more upon my breast,
Thou most unfortunate of all the victims !
For the last time I hold thee to my heart !
So soon to leave thy home, thy father's hearth,
Come, take my parting kiss, and give me thine
In all the unbroken charm of happy girlhood !
Sister, farewell ! I ne'er again shall see
Thee joyous, young, — ah, never ! He will blast
Thy virgin bloom, wither thy innocent life !
Ha ! dost thou understand it all aright ?
The Accursed shall surely die ! and with him falls
The Eternal City into ashes, dust !
All this shalt fhou achieve, my glorious one, —
Thou canst not call this shame !
Eisinoe. I know. I know.
My brother, let me rest upon thy heart !
Time flies so fast, — in a few moments more —
And on whose breast shall I dishonored lie !
296
IRIDION,
Iridion {looking 7vildly around him).
Mark, how these pillars totter to their base !
Dark shadows slowly glide or writhe along
The dim perspective of our ancestral hall !
Gods of my sires, let me not faint and fall
Upon the threshold of the arena vast
Which I this hour enter ! Nerve my soul
With hope of vengeance ! Come, Masinissa, come !
A Voice from behind the pillars. Who totters now was
born for words, not deeds.
Meet the Accursed with smiles, and with smiles part !
Masinissa {entering). Csesar has sent his messengers ;
they wait
Even now for Elsinoe at thy gates.
Iridion. Power rests upon thy brow ! On the grave's
verge
Thou stand'st sublime, — strong as in days of youth.
Oh, give me strength to meet this fateful hour !
Masinissa. Is this the chosen virgin ? . . . Where is
the wreath
Of fresh-blown roses for proud Cesar's bride?
{He tkroius off the cypress from the head of Elsinoe. )
Child of the Priestess Crimhild, know'st thou not
Our work begins to-day ?
Elsinoe. I know life ends !
(^Ee/nale slaves are seen advancing from behind laden with
costly gifts, which they offer to Elsinoe. )
CHORUS OF FEMALE SLAVES.
Fair as Ai:)hrodite rising
From the deep-blue Grecian sea.
With the snowy foam uplifting.
And the Zephyrs floating free, —
We bring thee strands of opals, pearls,
To crown thy peerless brow :
Bring roses, perfumes, rainbow gems, —
I>ess sweet and bright than thou !
Iridion {to Masinissa). Lend her your arm, oUl man !
(He leads his sister to the statue of Amphilochus. )
I RID ION. 297
Sister, be firm ;
Listen to me as if I spoke in death !
Soon must thou cross a threshold laden with shame,
Live with the Accursed ; thy virgin body yield
In its chaste beauty to damnation's son ; —
See to it that thou keep'st thy shuddering soul
Pure, high, and free ! Veil it in mystery !
Make it as cold and inaccessible
As the shrine of ice in which thy mother knelt
When Odin's prophecies thrilled through her lips !
Ehinoe. Iridion, pity me, — poor helpless orphan !
Iridion. Give C? esar no repose upon thy breast !
Startle him constantly with frightful cries
That the Preetorians arm. Patricians rise,
The People storm his gates, will murder him !
Affright him more and more each passing hour,
Suck the young life-blood from his girlish heart,
And drive his craven soul with terror mad.
Come, Elsinoe {He lays his hand upon her head), closer
to me cling,
Rest thy long sunny curls upon my heart.
In thirst of vengeance did thy life begin,
And in that hope hast thou reached womanhood.
Doomed from thy birth to ruin and disgrace !
Kneel, sister! kneel before Amphilochus,
While here I consecrate thee to his Shade: —
Father, behold and bless the innocent victim !
Elsinoe. Voices from Erebus are floating round !
The air is dark with shadows! Mother ! Come !
{The women surround Elsinoe and robe her. )
CHORUS OF WOMEN.
Why tremble thy white limbs as winds the veil?
Why pants thy heart beneath the purple bands
Girding its snow? Why clutch the bridal wreath
With grasp so wild and fierce ? Thy brow is broad,
Fit for an Empress in its regal sweep;
Why whiter than the lilies is its pallor?
Iridion. Help ! Help ! She faints !
Masinissa. Fear not, — she will not die !
26
298
IRIDION.
She but begins to live as she must live.
See how her lips writhe and foam with some strange pas-
sion !
Elsinoe. I leave the threshold of my sires ; but may
Not bear away with me my Fathers' gods !
{She crushes the my7-tle wreath. ') I crush my virgin
wreath, unsullied, pure,
In the dim ashes of the hearth of home !
My father doomed me ere my wretched birth ;
My brother drives me forth to infamy ;
Alas ! I never, never can return !
Haste, mother ! pray to Odin for thy child !
Ask not for life for the unfortunate,
But pray for inspiration, gift of prophecy !
Already whirls it through my burning brain !
No mortal children ever will be born
From this doomed breast. . . . O mother, show me
more !
The Future will be generated there, —
Rome trusting in my love, and sleeping in my arms !
(^Enter Eutychian, Prefect of the Prcetorians, leading a
band of Ethiopians in scarlet, who bear presents, which
they place at the feet of ElsinoJe. )
Eutychian. The holy, blessed Emperor, Augustus,
High-Priest and Tribune, Consul, greeting sends
To the son of great Amphilochus, the Greek.
To Elsinoe, the Divine, he sends
A hundred shells of purple, a hundred cups
Of amethyst, a hundred strings of pearls.
Elsifioe. Courage, O mother, in my martyrdom !
Jridion. All now is over !
{He takes Elsinoe by the hand and leads her to Eutychian. )
Bear my sister hence !
Eutychian. The ivory chariot waits for Fortune's
child!
Jridion. As gift to Caesar I will send my band
Of gladiators ; Elsinoe loves
To see their skill. Go ! they will follow her.
( The ivonicn surround Elsinoe and bear her aruay, escorted
by Eutychian and the Ethiopians. After their exit, Iri-
I RID I on: 299
dion strikes the shield. His band of gladiators enters.
They ivear black tunics edged with scarlet, their arms
and legs are bflre, atid they carry naked swords. )
CHORUS OF GLADIATORS.
Are there wild beasts to throttle, men to kill ?
Or Will thy sister need our deadly skill?
Iridion. Brothers, Barbarians and Greeks, whom I
Have rescued from the bloody jaws of Rome,
Go with the sunny-haired ; give life for her;
Be true until the Day of Vengeance dawns !
Euphorion {chief of the gladiators'). Until our bodies,
rolled in sand and blood,
Lie prostrate in the arena, gashed and scarred.
They're lithe, strong, active, sworn to serve thee, Greek !
Iridion. I trust my sister to your valiant arms, —
Obey her as you would Iridion !
Hear you the sound of the retreating steps?
O'ertake them, follow to the imperial hall.
And in the Emperor greet your present Lord.
( The gladiators retire, waving their swords. )
CHORUS OF GLADIATORS.
Gods, may he perish ! die before his hour !
Iridion ! Long live Iridion !
{Exeunt gladiators. )
Iridion. Ye murderers of Hellas, of the world,
Ye sons of falsehood and of perfidy,
I've sacrificed to you a spotless virgin !
Immortal Gods, wherever you may be,
Hearken my prayer ! Grant she may be the last.
Except myself, thrown to the Roman wolf!
Among so many miserable wretches
Driven by threats and tortures from their country,
Let me be last of all the writhing victims, —
Forgotten after death and martyrdom !
{Exeunt. )
300 IRIDIOAL
SCENE II. A hall in the palace of Heliogabalus.
Heliogabalus, Alexander Severus, Mammea, sol-
diers, retainers, slaves, etc. Heliogabalus is robed
with great splendor.
Heliogabalus {to Alexander^. Cousin, it is with me a
festal hour,
The Greek girl hither comes a bride this day.
Alexander {starting). What ! Elsinoe? Has she given
consent ?
I thought Iridion scorned and liated Rome.
Heliogabalus.
under the leadership of their own chosen chiefs, but are
bowed under a heavy yoke,— clothing their shame in
gold, in silks, in sculptured marbles, and licking the dust
before the city which rises between the two seas.
This city, as is well known to the world, is the Queen
of lies and oppression. Under the spell of her poison-
ous breath, brother rises against brother, and son against
father, and traitors against the land which has given
them birth; and as untiringly as Time, she swallows up
all the kings of the earth. The calm flies from the brow
of thy father as bespeaks; it darkens like the tempest
breaking over the flying ship.
" Once was my Hellas the soul of the nations ; her
songs and oracles ruled the world ! But the haughty bar-
barians from the East rushed in multitudinous hosts upon
her, with the clang of swords and the whir of arrows.
The heavenly fire, torn from the gods, was her only por-
tion. Alas ! my beautiful, unfortunate Hellas trusted in
the accursed city seated upon the seven hills; rough
hordes pressed from it to her happy isles and myrtle-
crowned shores; cruel and false, it seized my wretched
country, not by might of arms and glorious war, but
divided her by the poison of treachery, and intoxicated
her with the nectar of false promises! "
At this moment the clouds break away, a few stars fl:ime
from the heavens ; but when Hermes again looks forth the
heavenly eyes are dimmed with scudding vapors and ex-
halations from the land, and he cries to the steersman:
'* To the right ! Steer all night to the right, and at dawn
we shall float in the Straits of Gades ! "
Then folding thy mother closely to his bosom, he tells
her of his mighty ancestors ; of Philopocmen, justly called
the last of the Greeks, who fought against the plots of the
accursed city, then of the barbarian king who, after the
losses of thirty years, at last fell by his own hand, since
which time no man had be^ n bold enough to undertake
286 I RID ION.
the protection of the enslaved world. After a short si-
lence dedicated to the memory of the great Mithridates,
he resumes his account, while thy mother listens motion-
less and with her blue eyes fastened upon him.
*' Crimhild, through thy inspiration thy god has re-
vealed what was divined in the vague foresight of my
fathers, what I myself have dimly seen and felt in the
flames of my own hate. Hail, daughter of the sea-king !
The city of sin, after the destruction of the free and the
living, has at last turned the sword against her own breast \
" Her treasures, collected from every part of the earth,
are no longer sufficient to satisfy her lusts; her arms arc
already slipping from her hands, her last hours are tolling
in the midst of carousals and murders.
"Laugh at the storms and waves, my wife, for we are
not to die here, — we are to take our part in that mighty
destruction ! "
After these words the voice of the hero is still fuller
of scorn and bitterness; he speaks of the gods of Hellas,
once so mighty, but in whom men have lost all faith :
their oracles have long been dumb, but their forms still
stand, for the world grown old cannot readily forget the
customs of her youth. All the gods of the earth are to be
seen in the accursed city; some of exceeding beauty from
the hand of the Greek sculptor, worthy of immortality ;
others distorted, monstrous, grown up without form from
the sands of the desert, hewn from the peaks of distant
hills, — but he tells her that he knows there is but one
God, who in the beginning laid his hand upon the night
and whirl of chaos, and conquered it for ever and ever !
"His name? " cries the Priestess of Odin. "Fate,"
he replies, as he goes to the helm of the vessel, for the
night is dark and the storm is again upon them.
Son of my Thought, dost thou remember the lovely isle
of Chiara, ui)on which passed thy childhood with thy
sister, the divine Elsinoe? Remcmberest thou the expe-
ditions of thy father, when, spreading his mast with sails.
IRIDION. 287
— not the three-cornered sails of the Greek, but the tall
sheets of the Barbarian, — with the Dacian helmet on his
head, and the battle-axe of the Cimbrian in his hand, he
would, favored by the night, slip out of the cove and
steer boldly on through the windings of the Archipelago?
All the thoughts of Jugurtha and Mithridates burn in his
soul, his intents of Vengeance lead him to seek the wildest
Barbarians ; now he visits the swamps of the Palus Moeo-
tis, the wastes where horses fly fleet as the wind ; now he
goes to the deserts of Africa where range the Syrtians
dipping their arrows in the deadliest poisons ; anywhere
and everywhere he hurries where he deems it possible to
raise enemies against his enemy. He presses the hand of
savage kings, learns their tongues and the use of their
arms, lavishes rich gifts upon them, and stimulates their
desires by promises of pleasure and booty.
During these long absences, the days pass in pain for
thy mother. But no stranger nor slave -ever reads a trace
of anguish in her noble features, nor do her lips quiver
when she bids them to be still.
But often, taking thee and Elsinoe by the hand, she
leads you through the long halls to the interior of the
palace where, amid niches covered with moss and shells,
stands a fierce warrior of rock.
Immortal rage wrinkles his broad low brow, his hands
hold the skull of a slaughtered enemy, at his feet are piled
long icicles and blocks of ice cut from Parian marble.
Thy mother bows her head before him, and thinks of her
vanished Fatherland.
"Iridion, my Sigurd, thou wilt never see the Silver
Land of streams, nor thy Grandfather, the King of Men 1
Look ! there stands my holy God ! My dreadful Inspirer !
The Lord of Valhalla ! the invincible Odin! " Then
pressing thy sister to her bosom: " Where is thy father,
Elsinoe? Speak, and tell~me where he lingers. I hear
the roaring of the winds and the dull sobbing of the
waves ; his tall bark rocks on the fathomless abyss of
waters, or, stripped of its winged sails, drives on some
coast accursed ! . . . But no, he will chain the storms,
escape the Barbarians, and return home with the fame of
a demigod ! "
288 IRIDION.
And when the horn of the returning hero is heard
winding over the sea, nearer and ever nearer through the
myrtle groves; when Hermes, bronzed by the sun and
weather-beaten by the tempests, throws himself into the
arms of his wife, his dark eye glittering with passion and
flashing with triumphant hope ; — happy, happy days return
to Chiara ; the Priestess forgets her dark forebodings, and
peaceful and glad you all^vander together over grass and
flowers, white sands and shells, through halls of marble,
among tripods and perfumed incense, and when evening
comes, you rest upon the lap of your mother, or in the
strong arms of your father, and when he blesses you at
night before you go to rest, with his hand upon your
bowed heads, he says : Remember to hate Rome / When
grown tip pursue her with a curse ! You, Iridion, with fire
and sword f You, Elsi^io'e, with prophecies and woman^ s art !
Ofttimes comes a Proconsul, Praetor, or officer of the
Emperor to Chiara; then long couches are laid and tables
spread with luxuries ; the wine of Lesbia pours in streams,
and the voices of the female slaves, accompanied by the
lutes of the males, chant the hymns of old Homer: —
*' Anacreon ! Anacreon ! " cry the Romans. With scorn-
ful smiles thy father beckons to the singers, fills the cups
of the Romans, gives fresh wreaths, and when they fall
into uproar and merriment, he boldly recounts the deeds
of the Past, relates the glories of the contest with Car-
thage, sings of the slaughtered legions of Varus, of the
revolt of Sertorius in Spain, and drinks the health of the
P^mperor wliile he crushes the cuj) in his clinched hand.
The thirteenth anniversary of the day on which the
Priestess had forsaken her god is now rapidly approach-
ing. Her voice grows wild when she calls her children ;
her looks are sad as she presses them to her breast. She
speaks of her f:ither, her motlier, her sister, the Chiefs of
her People ; half-broken farewells thrill her quivering
lips ; but in the presence of Hermes she tries to collect
her thoughts.
" Crimhild, daughter of kings, what is it oppresses
thee? "
" Hast thou never heard of the vengeance of the immor-
tal Spirits, Hermes? For a happy time I have been only
IRWION. 2 89
thine, — on the farthest confines of the world is an island
covered with ice, — a flaming mountain rises from its heart,
— the Giant of Death lies there enchained, — his arm is
already stretched forth to grasp me, — his hand will soon
hangover the depths to hurl the white web of my life into
the bottomless abyss ! "
Hermes fondly stretches his hand above her temples ;
its shadow falls like a stream of peace upon her brow, and
presses into her soul.
" Crimhild, look up to the glowing sky of Greece, and
out upon its blue sea ! Turn not back to the gray clouds
of the North, nor to its harsh God ! The star of Amphi-
lochus shines upon and guards thee ! He will not suffer
thee to be betrayed to the Evil Spirits ! "
But a heavy weight is on his heart !
What cry is that which breaks from the interior of the
palace, echoing through the vaults, and losing itself
among the pillars of the hall? The slaves hasten to the
inner rooms, enter the apartment of their lord ; there,
stretched upon a couch of porphyry, lies the Priestess ;
Hermes, the Greek, with bowed head stands beside her,
and crushes with his feet a cup whose rim is still beaded
with pearly drops. The slaves veil their eyes with droop-
ing lids, stand, listen, wait; but when Amphilochus lifts
his face, and turns it towards them, they shiver; for the
first time in his life anguish which he cannot master
distorts the godlike features of their lord.
" Go, bring Iridion with his sister here !
" Crimhild, I bid defiance to thy savage god ! There,
where surrounded by his heroes he drinks hot blood from
human skulls, on the highest throne of his dread palace, —
even there shall press the blasting curse of the Greek Am-
philochus ! . , . Oh, leave me not, my wife ! in vain ! in
vain ! But a few drops remain of the accursed draught,
— the whole cup of poison seethes in thy white breast I
Oh, Crimhild! Crimhild! "
She raises her head ; her face is as white as a pale statue
resting upon a sarcophagus :
"I saw him thrice last night, — he came from Valhalla
like an ocean of gloom, and cried to me : My Priestess !
*' He stretched out his strong arm, loaded with iron,
25*
290
IRIDION.
over the sleeping Iridion, the sleeping Elsinoe, and
menaced them with his resistless power. He threatened
to curse and blast their whole being unless I came to
him !
" For a time I was only thine, — but see ! there at his feet
lie the knife of sacrifice, the black veil, and the death-
wreath of a priestess ! When I die, place the knife at my
side, shroud me in the black veil, and wind the wreath
around my brow ! "
She rises, mounts the marble steps on the top of which
stands Odin ; she bends her noble form before him ; she
stretches out her white arms, trembling as if she would
fain wave away the shadow of death, while the folds of
her long white robe sweep the steps on which she stands;
then she descends and supports herself upon her husband ;
he winds his arm around her, and together they enter the
sanctuary. He totters, for he battles with an unseen,
unknown power, casting such looks to Heaven as Prome-
theus from his rock of pain, or as Laocoon in his anguish
lifts reproachfully to the gods from the fatal coast of the
sea; but he stoops not to tears, and is silent in his woe.
Pate seizes both in an irresistible grasp !
Then for the last time, Iridion, her look rests upon thy
young head ! At the feet of Odin she greets thee, as a
last farewell, with the name of thy grandfother : " Sigurd !
be the terror of the Proud ! "
" Elsinoe, my sjjirit will be ever with thee ! Remem-
ber the Silver I^and of streams, and forget not my god !
My children, I die for you ! "
Her lips grow pale, blue shadows fall around her azure
eyes, — now slie calls you both, — and then waves you
away from her poisoned breast ! Suddenly her thoughts
wander, — they fly afar to other places and to other times,
— her gray-haired father bows his head upon his powerful
hand, — the curses of the sea-kings are in her ears, — she
stretches out her arms, and, dying, utters prophecies as
the young Priestess of Odin was wont to do :
"To Battle! To Battle, my Ikothers ! Raise your
tents upon the seven hills, — upon the Capitol itself your
feast is spread, — the skulls of blood await the sons of Odin,
■ — fur below you, gnashing her teeth and wailing, — pros-
IRIDION.
291
trate — ruined — trodden in crimson pools, — lies Rome !
Rome ! Rome ! "
She falls exhausted at the feet of her god ; Amphilochus
raises her in his close embrace ; she tries to wind her arms
around his neck, but they sink powerless ! She falls back-
ward, — her hair hangs lower, lower to the ground, — and
a lifeless corpse at last sinks from the trembling hands of
Hermes upon the marble floor !
He kneels beside it, places the knife of sacrifice in its
hand, shrouds the black veil about it, and twines the
death-wreath of the priestess round the cold brow !
Then swiftly rising, as if seized by sudden madness, he
cries: ''Slaves, bring the axe from the Cimbrian Cher-
sonesus ! "
They bring it, trembling as they give it to their lord ;
he grasps it firmly in his powerful hands, gathers all his
mortal strength to combat the Immortal, and strides to
the dread image ! He looks upon it, — lifts the heavy
axe, — waves it thrice round his head, — it falls ! The god
is shattered to the earth, and Amphilochus, in despairing
silence, tramples the fragments of his enemy under his
feet.
Such is thy lineage, thy Past, descendant of Philopoe-
men, grandson of Sigurd, king of men, — O slumbering
Iridion !
Thy father leaves the home of his ancestors upon Chi-
ara's isle, and with the urn of Crimhild goes to Rome;
having lost what he loved, he will live with his enemies,
that he may at least hate with all the passion of his soul.
And ever and ever more nearly approaches the longed-
for day of Vengeance and Destruction.
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
H ELI OGAB ALUS, Emperor of Rome.
Alexander Severus, his Cousin and Successor.
Iridiox, son of Afnphilochus, the Greek, and Crimhild,
Priestess of Odin.
Victor, Christian Bishop.
Simeon, Christian Priest.
Ulpian Domitian, Consul.
Masinissa, an Old Man from the Desert of Mauritania.
Eutychian, Prefect of the Prcetorian Guard.
Aristomachus.
Lucius Tubero.
Cubullus.
rupilius.
A Philosopher.
SciPio, first known as Sporus ; Slave and Gladiator.
Verres.
Alboin.
PiLADES, a Slave, Master of Iridion's Household.
Euphorion, Chief of the Gladiators of Iridion.
Elsinoe, Sister of Iridion.
Mammea, Mother of Alexander Severus.
Metella, a Roman Maiden.
Votary of the Temple of Venus.
Female Slaves.
Female Chorus.
Christian Priests, Priests of Mithras, Old and Young
Christians, Soldiers, Gladiators, Barbarians, Attend-
ants, Slaves, Ethiopians, awi/ Infernals.
292
IRIDION.
ACT I.
SCENE I. The palace of Iridion I'fi Rome. A vast hall
adorned with a double roiv of pillars stretchifig i7i per-
spective until they vanish in the distance. A foirntain
sparkles in its midst ; incense and peifume burn on tri-
pods scattered through the hall. Iridion, in Greek cos-
tume, is seen lying at the base of the statue of his father,
Hermes Amphilochus. Slaves are passing to and fro,
kindling lights in lamps of alabaster.
First Slave. The son of Hermes sleeps; his weary
head
Rests at the feet of great Amphilochus.
Second Slave. On the cold marble he has sunk to rest.
Third Slave. His sister, our young mistress, wrings
her hands,
And in the Gyneceum ever weeps. '
Fourth Slave. By Pollux ! I, from good authority.
Have heard she will be carried off to-night
By the fierce Moors of Heliogabalus. '
First Slave. Peace with Iridion ! Let us retire
That he may still repose.
(^Exeunt Slaves. )
Iridion. My faithful slaves !
Like silent shadows have they stolen away
With wishes for my rest. Yet I but seemed to sleep.
Thou knowest. Father, I must wake and watch
For them, for all ! Twilight already here?
(^He rises from the base of the statue, and advances to a
brazen shield from which hangs a sword. )
293
294
IRIDION.
The dark hour is upon me ! They come to seize . . .
Ha ! did not Brutus offer his own sons ? . . .
But Elsinoe ! Elsinoe ! Woe !
{He strikes the shield. )
She comes ! Sad as an image of despair she glides ; .
A cypress-wreath wound round her broad white brow,
Such as her mother wore when Odin came
In wratli to tear her from us.
Elsinoe (enterifig). Are the Moors here?
Has the Accursed already sent his chariots
To capture me ?
Iridion. Not yet, O Elsinoe !
I called thee hither, sister, but to breathe
The spirit of our sire into thy soul
For the last time. Be brave ! we part to-night !
Elsinoe. Iridion! Brother! Shame and infamy !
Iridion. Nay, know'st thou not that Caesar's mad with
love?
That statues rise to thee throughout imperial Rome ?
That the grave Senate has proclaimed thee Goddess? ^
Hope of our House, and jewel of my heart, #
My sunny-haired, — thou art no longer mine !
Thou innocent victim born to avenge our wrongs,
Our sire's dishonor, and our country's shame !
Elsinoe. Yes. I have known it all from childhood's
hour.
And am prepared for direst sacrifice !
But not to-day — no — nor to-morrow — let it be !
I must have time to collect my utmost strength ;
To be taught by Masinissa ; time to drain
The cup of poison held to shuddering lips
By thee I My brother ! The vilest criminal
Has time to prepare for death !
Save me at least to-night, Iridion !
Iridion. I cannot, virgin victim ! chosen Bride !
Prepare for doom ! The whirlwind knows no rest !
Haste drives us o'er the path we must together tread.
Elsinoe (throwing her arm round his neck).
Have you forgotten how we used to sj^ort
The live-long day o'er bright Chiara's plains?
How oft I've wreathed thy head with roses sweet,
IRIDION. 295
And myrtle flowers ? How clearly I have loved thee ?
Have pity, brother ! Send me not to shame !
Indian. Tempt me not to compassion ! Tears are vain !
Eisinoe. Why thus complain, thus suffer? Hasnotpoyer
Been always given man to release himself
At will from gods or men, by seeking death?
I^She drmvs out his dagger. ) See how thy dagger glitters,
bright and keen ; —
Let us dull it in my heart, Iridion !
Iridion. And scorn the aim for which our father lived !
No, we must bear with life and misery,
That the great spirit of Amphilochus
May joy among the shades. Once the strong arm
Of one brave man might save a nation ; now
All that has passed away ! We're born in times
When even honor must be sacrificed.
My Eisinoe, Fate is hurrying on,
But few, few moments more are thine and mine ;
Then must this sunny hair be gayly wreathed
With bridal roses ; thou must robe thyself
In magic and bewildering loveliness.
{^He clasps her in his arms. ')
Lay thy doomed head once more upon my breast,
Thou most unfortunate of all the victims !
For the last time I hold thee to my heart !
So soon to leave thy home, thy father's hearth,
Come, take my parting kiss, and give me thine
In all the unbroken charm of happy girlhood !
Sister, farewell ! I ne'er again shall see
Thee joyous, young, — ah, never ! He will blast
Thy virgin bloom, wither thy innocent life !
Ha ! dost thou understand it all aright ?
The Accursed shall surely die ! and with him falls
The Eternal City into ashes, dust !
All this shalt fhou achieve, my glorious one, —
Thou canst not call this shame !
Eisinoe. I know. I know.
My brother, let me rest upon thy heart !
Time flies so fast, — in a few moments more —
And on whose breast shall I dishonored lie !
296
IRIDION,
Iridion {looking 7vildly around him).
Mark, how these pillars totter to their base !
Dark shadows slowly glide or writhe along
The dim perspective of our ancestral hall !
Gods of my sires, let me not faint and fall
Upon the threshold of the arena vast
Which I this hour enter ! Nerve my soul
With hope of vengeance ! Come, Masinissa, come !
A Voice from behind the pillars. Who totters now was
born for words, not deeds.
Meet the Accursed with smiles, and with smiles part !
Masinissa {entering). Csesar has sent his messengers ;
they wait
Even now for Elsinoe at thy gates.
Iridion. Power rests upon thy brow ! On the grave's
verge
Thou stand'st sublime, — strong as in days of youth.
Oh, give me strength to meet this fateful hour !
Masinissa. Is this the chosen virgin ? . . . Where is
the wreath
Of fresh-blown roses for proud Cesar's bride?
{He tkroius off the cypress from the head of Elsinoe. )
Child of the Priestess Crimhild, know'st thou not
Our work begins to-day ?
Elsinoe. I know life ends !
(^Ee/nale slaves are seen advancing from behind laden with
costly gifts, which they offer to Elsinoe. )
CHORUS OF FEMALE SLAVES.
Fair as Ai:)hrodite rising
From the deep-blue Grecian sea.
With the snowy foam uplifting.
And the Zephyrs floating free, —
We bring thee strands of opals, pearls,
To crown thy peerless brow :
Bring roses, perfumes, rainbow gems, —
I>ess sweet and bright than thou !
Iridion {to Masinissa). Lend her your arm, oUl man !
(He leads his sister to the statue of Amphilochus. )
I RID ION. 297
Sister, be firm ;
Listen to me as if I spoke in death !
Soon must thou cross a threshold laden with shame,
Live with the Accursed ; thy virgin body yield
In its chaste beauty to damnation's son ; —
See to it that thou keep'st thy shuddering soul
Pure, high, and free ! Veil it in mystery !
Make it as cold and inaccessible
As the shrine of ice in which thy mother knelt
When Odin's prophecies thrilled through her lips !
Ehinoe. Iridion, pity me, — poor helpless orphan !
Iridion. Give C? esar no repose upon thy breast !
Startle him constantly with frightful cries
That the Preetorians arm. Patricians rise,
The People storm his gates, will murder him !
Affright him more and more each passing hour,
Suck the young life-blood from his girlish heart,
And drive his craven soul with terror mad.
Come, Elsinoe {He lays his hand upon her head), closer
to me cling,
Rest thy long sunny curls upon my heart.
In thirst of vengeance did thy life begin,
And in that hope hast thou reached womanhood.
Doomed from thy birth to ruin and disgrace !
Kneel, sister! kneel before Amphilochus,
While here I consecrate thee to his Shade: —
Father, behold and bless the innocent victim !
Elsinoe. Voices from Erebus are floating round !
The air is dark with shadows! Mother ! Come !
{The women surround Elsinoe and robe her. )
CHORUS OF WOMEN.
Why tremble thy white limbs as winds the veil?
Why pants thy heart beneath the purple bands
Girding its snow? Why clutch the bridal wreath
With grasp so wild and fierce ? Thy brow is broad,
Fit for an Empress in its regal sweep;
Why whiter than the lilies is its pallor?
Iridion. Help ! Help ! She faints !
Masinissa. Fear not, — she will not die !
26
298
IRIDION.
She but begins to live as she must live.
See how her lips writhe and foam with some strange pas-
sion !
Elsinoe. I leave the threshold of my sires ; but may
Not bear away with me my Fathers' gods !
{She crushes the my7-tle wreath. ') I crush my virgin
wreath, unsullied, pure,
In the dim ashes of the hearth of home !
My father doomed me ere my wretched birth ;
My brother drives me forth to infamy ;
Alas ! I never, never can return !
Haste, mother ! pray to Odin for thy child !
Ask not for life for the unfortunate,
But pray for inspiration, gift of prophecy !
Already whirls it through my burning brain !
No mortal children ever will be born
From this doomed breast. . . . O mother, show me
more !
The Future will be generated there, —
Rome trusting in my love, and sleeping in my arms !
(^Enter Eutychian, Prefect of the Prcetorians, leading a
band of Ethiopians in scarlet, who bear presents, which
they place at the feet of ElsinoJe. )
Eutychian. The holy, blessed Emperor, Augustus,
High-Priest and Tribune, Consul, greeting sends
To the son of great Amphilochus, the Greek.
To Elsinoe, the Divine, he sends
A hundred shells of purple, a hundred cups
Of amethyst, a hundred strings of pearls.
Elsifioe. Courage, O mother, in my martyrdom !
Jridion. All now is over !
{He takes Elsinoe by the hand and leads her to Eutychian. )
Bear my sister hence !
Eutychian. The ivory chariot waits for Fortune's
child!
Jridion. As gift to Caesar I will send my band
Of gladiators ; Elsinoe loves
To see their skill. Go ! they will follow her.
( The ivonicn surround Elsinoe and bear her aruay, escorted
by Eutychian and the Ethiopians. After their exit, Iri-
I RID I on: 299
dion strikes the shield. His band of gladiators enters.
They ivear black tunics edged with scarlet, their arms
and legs are bflre, atid they carry naked swords. )
CHORUS OF GLADIATORS.
Are there wild beasts to throttle, men to kill ?
Or Will thy sister need our deadly skill?
Iridion. Brothers, Barbarians and Greeks, whom I
Have rescued from the bloody jaws of Rome,
Go with the sunny-haired ; give life for her;
Be true until the Day of Vengeance dawns !
Euphorion {chief of the gladiators'). Until our bodies,
rolled in sand and blood,
Lie prostrate in the arena, gashed and scarred.
They're lithe, strong, active, sworn to serve thee, Greek !
Iridion. I trust my sister to your valiant arms, —
Obey her as you would Iridion !
Hear you the sound of the retreating steps?
O'ertake them, follow to the imperial hall.
And in the Emperor greet your present Lord.
( The gladiators retire, waving their swords. )
CHORUS OF GLADIATORS.
Gods, may he perish ! die before his hour !
Iridion ! Long live Iridion !
{Exeunt gladiators. )
Iridion. Ye murderers of Hellas, of the world,
Ye sons of falsehood and of perfidy,
I've sacrificed to you a spotless virgin !
Immortal Gods, wherever you may be,
Hearken my prayer ! Grant she may be the last.
Except myself, thrown to the Roman wolf!
Among so many miserable wretches
Driven by threats and tortures from their country,
Let me be last of all the writhing victims, —
Forgotten after death and martyrdom !
{Exeunt. )
300 IRIDIOAL
SCENE II. A hall in the palace of Heliogabalus.
Heliogabalus, Alexander Severus, Mammea, sol-
diers, retainers, slaves, etc. Heliogabalus is robed
with great splendor.
Heliogabalus {to Alexander^. Cousin, it is with me a
festal hour,
The Greek girl hither comes a bride this day.
Alexander {starting). What ! Elsinoe? Has she given
consent ?
I thought Iridion scorned and liated Rome.
Heliogabalus.
