No More Learning

For men whom the Gods had slain
He pitied and raised again;
Till God's fire laid him low,
And now, what help have we?

OTHERS.
All's done that can be. Every vow
Full paid; and every altar's brow
Full crowned with spice of sacrifice.
No help remains nor respite now.

_Enter from the Castle a_ HANDMAID, _almost in tears. _

LEADER.
But see, a handmaid cometh, and the tear
Wet on her cheek! What tiding shall we hear? . . .
Thy grief is natural, daughter, if some ill
Hath fallen to-day. Say, is she living still
Or dead, your mistress? Speak, if speak you may.

MAID.
Alive. No, dead. . . . Oh, read it either way.

LEADER.
Nay, daughter, can the same soul live and die?

MAID.
Her life is broken; death is in her eye.

LEADER.
Poor King, to think what she was, and what thou!

MAID.
He never knew her worth. . . . He will know it now.

LEADER.
There is no hope, methinks, to save her still?

MAID.
The hour is come, and breaks all human will.

LEADER.
She hath such tendance as the dying crave?

MAID.
For sure: and rich robes ready for her grave.

LEADER.
'Fore God, she dies high-hearted, aye, and far
In honour raised above all wives that are!

MAID.
Far above all! How other? What must she,
Who seeketh to surpass this woman, be?
Or how could any wife more shining make
Her lord's love, than by dying for his sake?
But thus much all the city knows. 'Tis here,
In her own rooms, the tale will touch thine ear
With strangeness. When she knew the day was come,
She rose and washed her body, white as foam,
With running water; then the cedarn press
She opened, and took forth her funeral dress
And rich adornment. So she stood arrayed
Before the Hearth-Fire of her home, and prayed:
"Mother, since I must vanish from the day,
This last, last time I kneel to thee and pray;
Be mother to my two children! Find some dear
Helpmate for him, some gentle lord for her.
And let not them, like me, before their hour
Die; let them live in happiness, in our
Old home, till life be full and age content. "
To every household altar then she went
And made for each his garland of the green
Boughs of the wind-blown myrtle, and was seen
Praying, without a sob, without a tear.
She knew the dread thing coming, but her clear
Cheek never changed: till suddenly she fled
Back to her own chamber and bridal bed:
Then came the tears and she spoke all her thought.
"O bed, whereon my laughing girlhood's knot
Was severed by this man, for whom I die,
Farewell! 'Tis thou . . . I speak not bitterly. . . .
'Tis thou hast slain me. All alone I go
Lest I be false to him or thee. And lo,
Some woman shall lie here instead of me--
Happier perhaps; more true she cannot be. "
She kissed the pillow as she knelt, and wet
With flooding tears was that fair coverlet.
At last she had had her fill of weeping; then
She tore herself away, and rose again,
Walking with downcast eyes; yet turned before
She had left the room, and cast her down once more
Kneeling beside the bed. Then to her side
The children came, and clung to her and cried,
And her arms hugged them, and a long good-bye
She gave to each, like one who goes to die.
The whole house then was weeping, every slave
In sorrow for his mistress. And she gave
Her hand to all; aye, none so base was there
She gave him not good words and he to her.
So on Admetus falls from either side
Sorrow. 'Twere bitter grief to him to have died
Himself; and being escaped, how sore a woe
He hath earned instead--Ah, some day he shall know!

LEADER.
Surely Admetus suffers, even to-day,
For this true-hearted love he hath cast away?

MAID.
He weeps; begs her not leave him desolate,
And holds her to his heart--too late, too late!
She is sinking now, and there, beneath his eye
Fading, the poor cold hand falls languidly,
And faint is all her breath. Yet still she fain
Would look once on the sunlight--once again
And never more. I will go in and tell
Thy presence. Few there be, will serve so well
My master and stand by him to the end.
But thou hast been from olden days our friend.
[_The_ MAID _goes in_. ]

CHORUS.

THIRD ELDER.
O Zeus,
What escape and where
From the evil thing?
How break the snare
That is round our King?

SECOND ELDER.
Ah list!
One cometh? . . . No.
Let us no more wait;
Make dark our raiment
And shear this hair.

LEADER.
Aye, friends!
'Tis so, even so.
Yet the gods are great
And may send allayment.
To prayer, to prayer!

ALL (_praying_).
O Paian wise!
Some healing of this home devise, devise!
Find, find. . . . Oh, long ago when we were blind
Thine eyes saw mercy . . . find some healing breath!
Again, O Paian, break the chains that bind;
Stay the red hand of Death!

LEADER.
Alas!
What shame, what dread,
Thou Pheres' son,
Shalt be harvested
When thy wife is gone!

SECOND ELDER.
Ah me;
For a deed less drear
Than this thou ruest
Men have died for sorrow;
Aye, hearts have bled.

THIRD ELDER.
'Tis she;
Not as men say dear,
But the dearest, truest,
Shall lie ere morrow
Before thee dead!

ALL.
But lo! Once more!
She and her husband moving to the door!
Cry, cry! And thou, O land of Pherae, hearken!
The bravest of women sinketh, perisheth,
Under the green earth, down where the shadows darken,
Down to the House of Death!

[_During the last words_ ADMETUS _and_ ALCESTIS _have entered_.
ALCESTIS _is supported by her Handmaids and followed by her
two children. _]

LEADER.
And who hath said that Love shall bring
More joy to man than fear and strife?
I knew his perils from of old,
I know them now, when I behold
The bitter faring of my King,
Whose love is taken, and his life
Left evermore an empty thing.

ALCESTIS.
O Sun, O light of the day that falls!
O running cloud that races along the sky!

ADMETUS.
They look on thee and me, a stricken twain,
Who have wrought no sin that God should have thee slain.

ALCESTIS.
Dear Earth, and House of sheltering walls,
And wedded homes of the land where my fathers lie!

ADMETUS.
Fail not, my hapless one. Be strong, and pray
The o'er-mastering Gods to hate us not alway.

ALCESTIS (_faintly, her mind wandering_).
A boat two-oared, upon water; I see, I see.
And the Ferryman of the Dead,
His hand that hangs on the pole, his voice that cries;
"Thou lingerest; come. Come quickly, we wait for thee. "
He is angry that I am slow; he shakes his head.

ADMETUS.
Alas, a bitter boat-faring for me,
My bride ill-starred. --Oh, this is misery!

ALCESTIS (_as before_).
Drawing, drawing! 'Tis some one that draweth me . . .
To the Palaces of the Dead.
So dark. The wings, the eyebrows and ah, the eyes! . . .
Go back! God's mercy! What seekest thou? Let me be! . . .
(_Recovering_) Where am I? Ah, and what paths are these I tread?

ADMETUS.
Grievous for all who love thee, but for me
And my two babes most hard, most solitary.

ALCESTIS.
Hold me not; let me lie. --
I am too weak to stand; and Death is near,
And a slow darkness stealing on my sight.
My little ones, good-bye.
Soon, soon, and mother will be no more here. . . .
Good-bye, two happy children in the light.

ADMETUS.
Oh, word of pain, oh, sharper ache
Than any death of mine had brought!
For the Gods' sake, desert me not,
For thine own desolate children's sake.
Nay, up! Be brave. For if they rend
Thee from me, I can draw no breath;
In thy hand are my life and death,
Thine, my beloved and my friend!

ALCESTIS.
Admetus, seeing what way my fortunes lie,
I fain would speak with thee before I die.
I have set thee before all things; yea, mine own
Life beside thine was naught. For this alone
I die. . . . Dear Lord, I never need have died.
I might have lived to wed some prince of pride,
Dwell in a king's house. . . .
Nay, how could I, torn
From thee, live on, I and my babes forlorn?
I have given to thee my youth--not more nor less,
But all--though I was full of happiness.
Thy father and mother both--'tis strange to tell--
Had failed thee, though for them the deed was well,
The years were ripe, to die and save their son,
The one child of the house: for hope was none,
If thou shouldst pass away, of other heirs.
So thou and I had lived through the long years,
Both. Thou hadst not lain sobbing here alone
For a dead wife and orphan babes. . . . 'Tis done
Now, and some God hath wrought out all his will.
Howbeit I now will ask thee to fulfill
One great return-gift--not so great withal
As I have given, for life is more than all;
But just and due, as thine own heart will tell.
For thou hast loved our little ones as well
As I have. . . . Keep them to be masters here
In my old house; and bring no stepmother
Upon them. She might hate them. She might be
Some baser woman, not a queen like me,
And strike them with her hand. For mercy, spare
Our little ones that wrong. It is my prayer. . . .
They come into a house: they are all strife
And hate to any child of the dead wife. . . .
Better a serpent than a stepmother!
A boy is safe. He has his father there
To guard him. But a little girl! (_Taking the_ LITTLE GIRL
_to her_) What good
And gentle care will guide thy maidenhood?
What woman wilt thou find at father's side?
One evil word from her, just when the tide
Of youth is full, would wreck thy hope of love.
And no more mother near, to stand above
Thy marriage-bed, nor comfort thee pain-tossed
In travail, when one needs a mother most!
Seeing I must die. . . . 'Tis here, across my way,
Not for the morrow, not for the third day,
But now--Death, and to lie with things that were.
Farewell. God keep you happy. --Husband dear,
Remember that I failed thee not; and you,
My children, that your mother loved you true.

LEADER.
Take comfort. Ere thy lord can speak, I swear,
If truth is in him, he will grant thy prayer.

ADMETUS.
He will, he will! Oh, never fear for me.
Mine hast thou been, and mine shalt ever be,
Living and dead, thou only. None in wide
Hellas but thou shalt be Admetus' bride.
No race so high, no face so magic-sweet
Shall ever from this purpose turn my feet.
And children . . . if God grant me joy of these,
'Tis all I ask; of thee no joy nor ease
He gave me. And thy mourning I will bear
Not one year of my life but every year,
While life shall last. . . . My mother I will know
No more. My father shall be held my foe.
They brought the words of love but not the deed,
While thou hast given thine all, and in my need
Saved me. What can I do but weep alone,
Alone alway, when such a wife is gone? . . .
An end shall be of revel, and an end
Of crowns and song and mirth of friend with friend,
Wherewith my house was glad. I ne'er again
Will touch the lute nor ease my heart from pain
With pipes of Afric. All the joys I knew,
And joys were many, thou hast broken in two.
Oh, I will find some artist wondrous wise
Shall mould for me thy shape, thine hair, thine eyes,
And lay it in thy bed; and I will lie
Close, and reach out mine arms to thee, and cry
Thy name into the night, and wait and hear
My own heart breathe: "Thy love, thy love is near. "
A cold delight; yet it might ease the sum
Of sorrow. . . . And good dreams of thee will come
Like balm. 'Tis sweet, even in a dream, to gaze
On a dear face, the moment that it stays.
O God, if Orpheus' voice were mine, to sing
To Death's high Virgin and the Virgin's King,
Till their hearts failed them, down would I my path
Cleave, and naught stay me, not the Hound of Wrath,
Not the grey oarsman of the ghostly tide,
Till back to sunlight I had borne my bride.
But now, wife, wait for me till I shall come
Where thou art, and prepare our second home.
These ministers in that same cedar sweet
Where thou art laid will lay me, feet to feet,
And head to head, oh, not in death from thee
Divided, who alone art true to me!

LEADER.
This life-long sorrow thou hast sworn, I too,
Thy friend, will bear with thee. It is her due.

ALCESTIS.
Children, ye heard his promise? He will wed
No other woman nor forget the dead.

ADMETUS.
Again I promise. So it shall be done.

ALCESTIS (_giving the children into his arms one after the other_).
On that oath take my daughter: and my son.

ADMETUS.
Dear hand that gives, I accept both gift and vow.

ALCESTIS.
Thou, in my place, must be their mother now.

ADMETUS.
Else were they motherless--I needs must try.

ALCESTIS.
My babes, I ought to live, and lo, I die.

ADMETUS.
And how can I, forlorn of thee, live on?

ALCESTIS.
Time healeth; and the dead are dead and gone.

ADMETUS.
Oh, take me with thee to the dark below,
Me also!

ALCESTIS.
'Tis enough that one should go.

ADMETUS.
O Fate, to have cheated me of one so true!

ALCESTIS (_her strength failing_).
There comes a darkness: a great burden, too.

ADMETUS.
I am lost if thou wilt leave me. . . . Wife! Mine own!

ALCESTIS.
I am not thy wife; I am nothing. All is gone.

ADMETUS.
Thy babes! Thou wilt not leave them. --Raise thine eye.

ALCESTIS.
I am sorry. . . . But good-bye, children; good-bye.

ADMETUS.
Look at them! Wake and look at them!


ALCESTIS.
I must go.

ADMETUS.
What? Dying!

ALCESTIS.
Farewell, husband! [_She dies. _]

ADMETUS (_with a cry_).
Ah! . . . Woe, woe!

LEADER.
Admetus' Queen is dead!

[_While_ ADMETUS _is weeping silently, and the_ CHORUS _veil
their faces, the_ LITTLE BOY _runs up to his dead Mother_. ]

LITTLE BOY.
Oh, what has happened? Mummy has gone away,
And left me and will not come back any more!
Father, I shall be lonely all the day. . . .
Look! Look! Her eyes . . . and her arms not like before,
How they lie . . .
Mother! Oh, speak a word!
Answer me, answer me, Mother! It is I.
I am touching your face. It is I, your little bird.

ADMETUS (_recovering himself and going to the Child_).
She hears us not, she sees us not. We lie
Under a heavy grief, child, thou and I.

LITTLE BOY.
I am so little, Father, and lonely and cold
Here without Mother. It is too hard. . . . And you,
Poor little sister, too.
Oh, Father!
Such a little time we had her. She might have stayed
On till we all were old. . . .
Everything is spoiled when Mother is dead.

[_The_ LITTLE BOY _is taken away, with his Sister, sobbing_. ]

LEADER.
My King, thou needs must gird thee to the worst.
Thou shalt not be the last, nor yet the first,
To lose a noble wife. Be brave, and know
To die is but a debt that all men owe.

ADMETUS.
I know. It came not without doubts and fears,
This thing. The thought hath poisoned all my years.
Howbeit, I now will make the burial due
To this dead Queen. Be assembled, all of you;
And, after, raise your triumph-song to greet
This pitiless Power that yawns beneath our feet.
Meantime let all in Thessaly who dread
My sceptre join in mourning for the dead
With temples sorrow-shorn and sable weed.
Ye chariot-lords, ye spurrers of the steed,
Shear close your horses' manes!