)
Drink, and be free from sad or evil thoughts !
Drink, and be free from sad or evil thoughts !
Krasinski - The Undivine Comedy
Answer the deaf and
blind, and tell him. Brothers,
What foe has driven you from the pleasant paths
Allotted to humanity, and forced
You into regions of perpetual gloom ;
Who from your cradles branded on your brows
The seal of hunger, thirst, and misery ;
Who has forbidden you to love a wife,
To offer her a quiet home of peace.
Or sit with children round a happy hearth.
CHORUS OF SOLDIERS.
Rome ! Rome !
Iridion. Mortal itself, who founds its dearest hopes
Upon tlie agonies of mortals, nations?
Who taught the son of Mithridates to
Imbrue his hands in the blood of his own father?
Who invites the traitors of the north.
The betrayers of the south, to its high festivals,
Making of treason the sure path to fame?
Who forces the unfortunate to drain
The cup of wretchedness ?
CHORUS OF VOICES.
Rome ! ever Rome !
Iridion. And who is it, that, like the infernal gods,
Banquets on tears, and bathes in baths of blood,
As if Pain were the nectar of the gods?
CHORUS OF VOICES.
Rome ! Rome !
Iridion. Have you heard, Consul ? Do you know
At last, who, what I am ?
Domitian. A very madman !
IRIDION. 42 1
Rome is, has been, the darling of the gods !
The second Fate, destined to rule the world !
Before her fall the weak, with faces in the dust ;
The haughty vanish when she frowns on them !
The wheel of Fortune cannot turn without her ;
She walks a slave, chained to Rome's car of triumph !
Yet you, a boy, without provisions, troops.
You will destroy a Power whose thunders crash
From the urn of Hannibal to farthest Cimbrian mounds !
Look from this place, and see the spot on which
Your head shall fall before the lictor's axe !
Iridioti. It may be, Roman ! but before that hour
The Cimbrian javelin may have pierced your heart,
The axe of the Cherusci found its way
Through Aristomachus' breastplate ; and I will
Have kept a solemn vow, once pledged to Tubero !
CHORUS.
Before that hour the wronged must drain a cup
Full to the brim of blood, for every pang
They have endured ! After us, come our heirs,
Whom we, from our abyss, will lead to vengeance !
Domitian. You'll have no heirs ! Your races die in
you !
Your madness and its punishment will be
A corner-stone in the enduring base
Of the city founded on the seven hills !
Iridion. On that stone shall be graven : Here lies
Rome !
Domitian. Weak mortal I Do you really hope to
change
The will of Fate, forever wise and good ?
Were it within your power, to whom would you depute
The right to rule, if not to mighty Rome,
The home of energy, decisive action ?
Should venal Afric hold the sceptre of the world?
Debauched Seleucia? singing, dancing Hellas?
No. Force is born where never sounds the lyre ;
Where steel and iron gird the stalwart brow,
Not myrtle-wreaths and crowns of fading roses !
There where the souls of men are filled with vigor,
36*
422
IRIDION.
Where the strong will is master, acts and dares,
Not in the world of Rhythm, Music, Song !
Wills deep as the abyss, and grave as thought,
Invincible as reason, must bear rule !
Power dwells where intellect has built her throne ;
Where understanding, not the muses, sway.
Iridion. The martyrs of all nations know too well
The meaning of the Roman intellect :
'Tis cunning subtlety, self-interest, guile!
With Ro7}ian ivisdom graven on his brow,
The Roman Genius came to take his seat
Within the home of Attains ! He stooped.
Caressed and flattered, furled his raven wings.
Until he wrenched from tottering, dying hands
The title-deeds to Pergamus ! '
Then he arose, and crawled to take a part
In the Isthmian games, praising the sons of Hellas. '
He spake of wisdom, for with this magic word
He still deceives the weak, and kills the human soul.
The intellect in Greece is godlike power
To create the Beautiful ; to bless the soul;
Such intellect is genius from the gods:
It means not subtlety, successful fraud.
If an unfortunate victim, weak enough
To trust Rome's Genius, falls into his snare,
Renounces country, home, all fame in life.
All glory after death, the Genius laughs
And says: "You yield to Roman intellect ;"
Then twists a halter round the wretch's throat,
Drags him forthwith to the Tarpeian Rock,
And pitiless hurls him into the abyss I
My Hellas never was degraded by
The debasement of such groveling "intellect" !
The life of Greece is not a dull account-book ;
Her hopes were never based on treachery.
Nor is her nectar bitter sobs and tears.
Latona's son in her shades loved to dwell.
To twine round her his glorious aureole ;
She rests upon the breast of Zeus ; her brow,
Shadowed by the immortal shield of Pallas,
Engenders thought sublime. Apollo loves her ;
I RID I ON. 423
The Laurel on his head, the Golden Lyre
\\\ his skilled hands, he sports on her blue seas;—
Placing his shining feet upon her sunny shores,
Inspires her sons,— the Genius true of Greece !
Vengeance, Apollo ! vengeance for thy Hellas !
Domitian. Rave not, but gaze upon Rome's might
and strength !
The names of Sparta, Corinth, Athens, die
'Neath the pervading thunders of our arms
Like hum of distant bees at sunset's hour.
Farther and farther will our sway extend,
And from the rising to the setting sun,
The world will know no peace, until its name is Rome !
Iridion. And can you dream to cover this abyss
With a fresh growth of ivy, vines, and laurel?
Deem you the bones of your dead offerings,
The plundered shrines, polluted sanctuaries,
Swords torn from bleeding hands that trusted you,
The murdered women, children's rotting flesh.
The myriad broken hearts strewn o'er your path,
Will be no longer seen 'neath that lush growth
Which loves to shelter ruin, hide decay?
Death lurks in every pitfall of such path !
And in a generation without souls,
How can you light anew the extinct fires
Of honor, peace, security, and art, —
Cull palms and roses, where you have sown Hate?
Send for your wreaths of laurel, you and Caesar;
Lululge your pleasant dreams, like frail old men
Who hope the return of youth, when Death knocks at
their door !
Domitian. Chief of incendiaries, bands of robbers.
Your breath is poison for a man of virtue !
Branded upon your brow, abandoned by the gods,
All crimes are burning with infernal glare :
My old frame shudders as I look upon you !
Iridio7i {turning totvards the statue of Amphilochus).
Father ! the Roman for the first time hears
A freeman speak, and falls into a rage !
Consul, a few words more ! What have you made
Of all this world which the Lifernal gods
424
IRIDION.
Have given to you? Have you made any happy?
I've seen triumphal arches spring upon it,
The ivory chairs of the Ediles rise thereon ;
You have made roads o'er which to send your troops,
Raised marbles upon which you've graven your name
With the sweat and blood of dying, wretched men,
Yourselves thus dedicating to the vengeful Furies !
And when the tottering earth fell in your arms.
Like a deluded woman led astray,
The godlike dreams of Plato floated o'er it,
While even from Gades to the Ultima Thule,
Glittered the snowy sails of prosperous Carthage !
What have you made this world ? Answer me, Consul !
Speak ! What remains of all the happy past?
Do you not hear the sighs and sobs break forth
From the fainting hearts of the wretched Nazarenes
Whom you detain for torture in the catacombs?
Look at the wandering shadows of the Stoics, ^
Who try to console themselves for the loss of all
Making life precious, by the cold abstractions
Writ by Aurelius ! Can you call this, life?
Where has the Olive Branch, since Greece was ruined.
Flourished upon the earth you've made so wretched?
Show me the people whom your ancestors
Have soothed for the loss of liberty with hymns
Of hope and love, lessons of godlike wisdom?
Oh yes ! . . , I know ! . . . Augustus closed the gates
Of Janus in the evening of his life,
And venal lutes sang flatteries before him !
Consider, he but gave the name of peace
To silent deserts of the ruined, dead ! —
Only on wasted cities ground to dust,
On graves of bloody generations slaughtered.
You grave the words: Peace to the sons of men!
Domiiian. E'en as a father rules liis family,
Patricians rule plebeians ; masters, slaves.
So have we Quirites held provinces,
Inherited, subjected, or our own;
So do we rule the world. By the same law,
We govern earth we've conquered by the sword,
And o'er its head we hang the law of the sword !
I RID I ON. 425
Iridion. If you had ne'er made use of perfidy,
Deceived the credulous by lying words,
Wliat would have been your fate, O subde Roman?
Look on the legions of your proud Republic
Flving before the elephants of Pyrrhus,
Quailing beneath the pronged blades of the Samnites,
Falling like grass before the reaper's scythe
On Thrasimene's Lake, shrieking aloud
For mercy to the Spaniards, when inclosed
Li narrow defile where no water flowed.
\x\ the dense forests of Hercynia,
Paling before the prowess of the Germans,
They knelt like helpless victims to be slaughtered !
Not with the thunders of bold Alexander,^
Not with the valor of your naked blades,
But through your cups of poison, perjuries,
Conspiracies, fomented treasons, guiles,
Your treacherous friendships, dark diplomacies,
You've crawled and writhed into the power you hold !
No. Not among the mountains grew your eagles.
But in the fetid air of treacherous swamps !
Domitiau. Vainly you rage ! The granite rock on
which
You gnash your teeth but tears them from their sockets !
Thus you reject the mercy of your master?
Iridion. Wlio is my master? . . . I've known none on
earth !
Behind yon pvre, like monstrous birds of prey,
The Genii of Death are gathering fast !
In that still kingdom I am soon to enter.
They'll tell me, oi what Ccesar I am subject !
Here I've known only foes ; and a few slaves
Who love and serve me faithfully, my brothers.
I never have known peace, nor bliss, nor rest.
Only one godlike hour, dear to my soul.
Short, brilliant as the flash of clashing swords
That shatter suddenly in sparkling atoms, —
But sacred to ray heart for evermore !
None of you. Brothers, shared that hour with me;
// was myself, — and I was // entire ;
There was no separate identity !
426 I RID I ON.
The torch of vengeance blazed in my hot hands ;
The accursed city lay beneath my feet,
More and more closely veiled in night's dim shroud ;
The winds arose : . . . Fire ! Fire ! . . .
(Zr<? turns pale and leans for support on the statue of Am-
pliilochus. )
Ah ! Nemesis !
Domitian. What is the matter, Greek? How pale you
grow !
Iridion {recovering himself^. More Roman blood is
wanting to my cheeks !
Domitian. The gods have warned you by some inward
sign !
For the last time, in the name of him who sent me,
I warn you, sentence will be passed against you.
For the last time, I offer Caesar's grace.
Pardon still lies within your grasp, for Rome
Is ever ready to forgive the humble!
Iridion. Is such the conclusion you draw from my
words ?
Is this the Jurist's lore? . . . Wait, Consul, wait !
Euphorion, hand the consecrated cup !
(yEuphorion hands a bowl of wine. )
I pour the Lesbian foam upon thy feet,
{Etnpties the wine at the feet of the statue. )
Amphilochus ! Receive my bloom of life
In sacrifice ! Father, I come to thee ! . . .
Euphorion, fill again ! . . . Drink, Brothers, drink !
Drink, as the faitiiful men of Leonidas
Pledged one another ere their twilight fell !
( The cup is filled and refilled as it passes round from man
to man.
)
Drink, and be free from sad or evil thoughts !
(^After the cup has circled round the men, it is ai^ain filled ;
Iridion holds it in his hand as he approaches the altar
ruhiih stands bctioeen the statue of Amphilochus and t/ie
body of Elsinoe, upon which altar fire blazes. He draws
from his finger the ring of Empire. )
IRIDION.
427
The Guardian Genius of the cruel Empire;
The god who guides its future Destiny,
Blessed by the augurs, famed and liymned by prophets,
Revered by vestals in their sacred chants,
{He holds the ring above the flavies. )
Given by the Senate but to Caesar's hand,
The Fate of Rome, — I dedicate to thee
In sacrifice, O Father ! Mother, thee !
And thee, beloved Hellas !
Domitian. Stop ! Stop the impious sacrilege ! Arrest
The desecration of the holy symbol !
Is there a Roman here who hears my voice?
Life, honor, gold, are his who saves the ring !
I vow by Stator, by Quirinus, swear !
Hold, infamous boaster! The mystic name of Rome,
Her Fate, her Honor, live within the seal !
Iriition. Life! Honor! Gold! My Brothers, have
you heard ?
The Name and Fate of Rome live in this ring !
{He throws the ring into the flarnes. Domitian covers his
head with his toga. )
CHORUS.
The Roman throws the toga o'er his head ;
Sorrow and anger swell his troubled breast;
He dares not lift his head to meet our eyes !
Eiige ! Euge !
Iridion. Before my lips are closed in death forever,
I utter my last will. {To his soldiers. ) Hearken to me,
And with me join to curse the accursed city !
CHORUS.
Look ! is it the reflection from the blaze,
Or does Apollo crown liim with his light,
That thus his face illumes with sudden glory?
Iridion. Woe to the victors ! Woe ! As they would
have *
Degraded us, so may they be abased !
All who are born in Rome, all dead in Rome,
Women and children, men, — may all be slaves !
428 IRIDIOM.
CHORUS OF MEN.
Women and children, men, — may all be slaves !
Iridion. Eternal "Fuiumf Rise from thy high
throne,
Where thou art seated o'er all other gods;
Descend to earth, rest on these seven hills,
Become the Fury of their agonies!
May Rome, which ruins all, die at Thy Feet,
All-Creator, God of all their gods!
CHORUS OF MEN.
Destroy their race! Their language die with them!
Iridion. Their infamy shall live till Time shall be no
more !
Let the tradition of their tyranny
Be their eternal epitaph ! May all
Who read it in the future curse them, — curse them
From age to age, while lasts the universe !
CHORUS OF MEN.
Curse them from age to age, while lasts the universe !
Iridion. The hour of prayer and sacrifice is past;
The flame is dying out upon the altar;
The god of Rome is dead! Consul, look up!
Doniitian. You break all codes, outrage the holiest
symbols !
According to the customs of our Fathers,
1 shut you from the protection of all law;
I interdict the use of fire and water!
The slave who brings your head shall have his freedom;
The freeman, have his statue near the rostrum,
A seat next to the Consul at the games!
Villain, I go to await you at the gate
Of the Mamertine prison! Madman, death-doomed,
I'll see you plunge from the Tarpeian rock!
Iridion. None here will raise a hand against me ! Go!
Rage is unseemly with a head of snow.
i^Exii Domitian. )
IRIDION. 429
Thy funeral pyre is ready, sunny-haired !
Take up the bier and bear it gently, slaves!
Salve Eternum, Elsinoe pure!
( They carry the bier slozaly out, Iridion walking beside it,
followed by Pilades. Exeunt soldiers, attendants, etc. )
SCENE III. Moonlight. A street in Rome. On one side
stands the temple of Venus, opposite to it is the Flavian am-
phitheatre. Lucius Tubero and the prcetorians are seen
upon the steps of the temple.
Tubero. Aristomachus should be here ere this.
Night had scarce f. illen when we parted ; now
The moon stands high above the amphitheatre.
The giant shadows, silence of these arches,
Weigh upon me ! I know not why it is,
But the fresh breath of night, instead of calming,
Burns on my cheek. How anxious is this waiting!
Yet I have looked on far more desperate things
Without a shudder. Soul, thou slave of Lucius,
Why dost thou now revolt against thy master?
'Tis said that when the end of life draws near,
The spirit grows afraid and warns the body.
Brutus had signs before the last lost fight,
And Otho too at Bedriacum . . . Diespiter !
This is no time for Tubero to die!
Young Caesar counts on my experience,
And with Domitian I can hold the reins.
Sliould the great jurist fall beneath the sword
Of the mad Greek or axes of the Germans, —
Then . . . then . . . Who answers me? Marspiter!
speak ! . . .
'Tis nobody! Only a lion roused from sleep
And roaring in the vaults below the circus.
No, — there are other sounds ! Voices and tumult!
Marspiter! who comes here?
i^Armedmeti rush in in disorder, followed by h'RiSTOMXCnus. )
Aristomachus. Help! help!
Tubero. Shame ! shame !
37
430
IRIDION.
Caesar upon the Forum waits for you
To bring the Greek in chains; you fly before him!
Aristomachus. Were he the Father of both gods and
men,
He lies who says I fear! I have just driven
This javelin through the breasts of two centurions
Because they wavered, turned their faces from
The flaming eyes of this same fiery Greek.
Tubero. Whence gets He this new power? Does he
sow dragons' teeth
Which grow to men as soon as they are planted?
Aristomachus. He must be near the end, but he still
fights
With supernatural force and bravery.
As we marched o'er the slope of the Viminalis,
He rushed upon us like a lava torrent.
Throwing his flaming torches, fiery arrows.
And burning naphtha. Face to face we met;
Three times a desperate encounter followed;
As if from Vulcan's anvil flew the sparks
Between his shield and my tried sword: in vain,
For each time were we driven by the crowd apart.
Tubero. I swear to hang within thy Temple, Mars,
His armor, when Fve torn it from the Greek!
Aristomachus. Take off your breastplate, Tubero !
Two scales
Ruptured above the heart just as you spoke 1
Tubero. The gods avert the omen !
{Exeunt Tubero afid Aristomachus. ')
Masinissa (a/>pearingupon the strfs of the tetnple of Venus').
Ye birds of niglit, fed on the arena's blood,
Spread your black wings, and circle round my head I
Moon, ghastly ruin of a dead volcano,
Wliere Vulcan raged, whom men in idle dreams
Have changed to star of jjurity and peace,
Send me thy j)ale, thy faded rays!
Earth, give me that which still belongs to me!
Air, pay me what is due! I fain would feed
To-day on poison, misery, and blood,
As I once fed upon eternal light !
I RID ION. 431
Another day, another night, and I,
With my brave son, depart to other scenes !
A CHORUS OF FEMALE SPIRITS FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE
TEMPLE.
The Beautiful, Voluptuous, salute their Lord !
Floating above the helmets of the warriors,
Our cheeks we freshen in hot human blood :
The blood shed by thy son is now our favorite mirror !
The Beautiful, Voluptuous, warn their Lord,
That at the rising of Orion's stars,
The mystic spirit came, rolling in streams
Through the blue depths of ether's haunted realm !
All melancholy clouds, all silent charms
It weaves, re-weaves around Iridion's soul !
Masinissa. Does my son heed the whispers of the
spirit ?
CHORUS OF FEMALE SPIRITS.
Whene'er this mystic thought, which has no voice,
Touches his heart, he chill and pallid grows.
His sword still seeks the weak points in the armor,
But cannot break into the House of Life.
Like a fallen angel he still strives and fights
'Midst heaps of ruins. Hasten to him, Lord!
Masinissa. Feeble and misty soul of a chaste virgin,
Pure sighs breathed from the other side of graves,
You shall not tear Iridion from my grasp !
I have not trained his hands to strike your golden harps,
Nor tuned his vengeful lips to chant your hymns of praise !
{He disappears. ')
SCENE IV. The Forum lighted by torches. Alexander
is seated in a curtile chair ; behind him stand the guard
with golden eagles. Domitian is at his side. Aristo-
MACHUS enters, followed by soldiers bearing in SciPio,
dangerously wounded.
Aristomachus. O godlike Emperor ! Brave Tubero
Ere this has made a captive of the Greek !
432
IRIDION.
I was with him when he began the fight
With the Cherusci, who, led by this man,
{He points to Scipio. ')
Stood on the farther slope of the Viminal.
I pressed him so severely that they cried :
" Long live Severus, Caesar ! " They swore to me
By all the gods of the north, that they had lost
Their senses after Heliogabalus perished.
This man closed up the months of two or three
With vigorous thrusts ; — the rest massed on our side.
Alexander. Aristomachus, our best thanks are due !
Aristomachus. I must return to Tubero.
{Exit Afistomachus. ^
Domitian {to Scipio). Your name ?
Scipio. A dying man !
Domitian. Reveal the hidden truth,
And reconcile yourself ere your last sigh
With the just gods.
Scipio. Just gods / JV/iere may JJind them ?
Domitian. Answer before your Emperor ! Since
when
Have you conspired ?
Scipio. I cannot count. —
Since the beginning of eternity !
Domitiaji. Nay, jest not, slave !
blind, and tell him. Brothers,
What foe has driven you from the pleasant paths
Allotted to humanity, and forced
You into regions of perpetual gloom ;
Who from your cradles branded on your brows
The seal of hunger, thirst, and misery ;
Who has forbidden you to love a wife,
To offer her a quiet home of peace.
Or sit with children round a happy hearth.
CHORUS OF SOLDIERS.
Rome ! Rome !
Iridion. Mortal itself, who founds its dearest hopes
Upon tlie agonies of mortals, nations?
Who taught the son of Mithridates to
Imbrue his hands in the blood of his own father?
Who invites the traitors of the north.
The betrayers of the south, to its high festivals,
Making of treason the sure path to fame?
Who forces the unfortunate to drain
The cup of wretchedness ?
CHORUS OF VOICES.
Rome ! ever Rome !
Iridion. And who is it, that, like the infernal gods,
Banquets on tears, and bathes in baths of blood,
As if Pain were the nectar of the gods?
CHORUS OF VOICES.
Rome ! Rome !
Iridion. Have you heard, Consul ? Do you know
At last, who, what I am ?
Domitian. A very madman !
IRIDION. 42 1
Rome is, has been, the darling of the gods !
The second Fate, destined to rule the world !
Before her fall the weak, with faces in the dust ;
The haughty vanish when she frowns on them !
The wheel of Fortune cannot turn without her ;
She walks a slave, chained to Rome's car of triumph !
Yet you, a boy, without provisions, troops.
You will destroy a Power whose thunders crash
From the urn of Hannibal to farthest Cimbrian mounds !
Look from this place, and see the spot on which
Your head shall fall before the lictor's axe !
Iridioti. It may be, Roman ! but before that hour
The Cimbrian javelin may have pierced your heart,
The axe of the Cherusci found its way
Through Aristomachus' breastplate ; and I will
Have kept a solemn vow, once pledged to Tubero !
CHORUS.
Before that hour the wronged must drain a cup
Full to the brim of blood, for every pang
They have endured ! After us, come our heirs,
Whom we, from our abyss, will lead to vengeance !
Domitian. You'll have no heirs ! Your races die in
you !
Your madness and its punishment will be
A corner-stone in the enduring base
Of the city founded on the seven hills !
Iridion. On that stone shall be graven : Here lies
Rome !
Domitian. Weak mortal I Do you really hope to
change
The will of Fate, forever wise and good ?
Were it within your power, to whom would you depute
The right to rule, if not to mighty Rome,
The home of energy, decisive action ?
Should venal Afric hold the sceptre of the world?
Debauched Seleucia? singing, dancing Hellas?
No. Force is born where never sounds the lyre ;
Where steel and iron gird the stalwart brow,
Not myrtle-wreaths and crowns of fading roses !
There where the souls of men are filled with vigor,
36*
422
IRIDION.
Where the strong will is master, acts and dares,
Not in the world of Rhythm, Music, Song !
Wills deep as the abyss, and grave as thought,
Invincible as reason, must bear rule !
Power dwells where intellect has built her throne ;
Where understanding, not the muses, sway.
Iridion. The martyrs of all nations know too well
The meaning of the Roman intellect :
'Tis cunning subtlety, self-interest, guile!
With Ro7}ian ivisdom graven on his brow,
The Roman Genius came to take his seat
Within the home of Attains ! He stooped.
Caressed and flattered, furled his raven wings.
Until he wrenched from tottering, dying hands
The title-deeds to Pergamus ! '
Then he arose, and crawled to take a part
In the Isthmian games, praising the sons of Hellas. '
He spake of wisdom, for with this magic word
He still deceives the weak, and kills the human soul.
The intellect in Greece is godlike power
To create the Beautiful ; to bless the soul;
Such intellect is genius from the gods:
It means not subtlety, successful fraud.
If an unfortunate victim, weak enough
To trust Rome's Genius, falls into his snare,
Renounces country, home, all fame in life.
All glory after death, the Genius laughs
And says: "You yield to Roman intellect ;"
Then twists a halter round the wretch's throat,
Drags him forthwith to the Tarpeian Rock,
And pitiless hurls him into the abyss I
My Hellas never was degraded by
The debasement of such groveling "intellect" !
The life of Greece is not a dull account-book ;
Her hopes were never based on treachery.
Nor is her nectar bitter sobs and tears.
Latona's son in her shades loved to dwell.
To twine round her his glorious aureole ;
She rests upon the breast of Zeus ; her brow,
Shadowed by the immortal shield of Pallas,
Engenders thought sublime. Apollo loves her ;
I RID I ON. 423
The Laurel on his head, the Golden Lyre
\\\ his skilled hands, he sports on her blue seas;—
Placing his shining feet upon her sunny shores,
Inspires her sons,— the Genius true of Greece !
Vengeance, Apollo ! vengeance for thy Hellas !
Domitian. Rave not, but gaze upon Rome's might
and strength !
The names of Sparta, Corinth, Athens, die
'Neath the pervading thunders of our arms
Like hum of distant bees at sunset's hour.
Farther and farther will our sway extend,
And from the rising to the setting sun,
The world will know no peace, until its name is Rome !
Iridion. And can you dream to cover this abyss
With a fresh growth of ivy, vines, and laurel?
Deem you the bones of your dead offerings,
The plundered shrines, polluted sanctuaries,
Swords torn from bleeding hands that trusted you,
The murdered women, children's rotting flesh.
The myriad broken hearts strewn o'er your path,
Will be no longer seen 'neath that lush growth
Which loves to shelter ruin, hide decay?
Death lurks in every pitfall of such path !
And in a generation without souls,
How can you light anew the extinct fires
Of honor, peace, security, and art, —
Cull palms and roses, where you have sown Hate?
Send for your wreaths of laurel, you and Caesar;
Lululge your pleasant dreams, like frail old men
Who hope the return of youth, when Death knocks at
their door !
Domitian. Chief of incendiaries, bands of robbers.
Your breath is poison for a man of virtue !
Branded upon your brow, abandoned by the gods,
All crimes are burning with infernal glare :
My old frame shudders as I look upon you !
Iridio7i {turning totvards the statue of Amphilochus).
Father ! the Roman for the first time hears
A freeman speak, and falls into a rage !
Consul, a few words more ! What have you made
Of all this world which the Lifernal gods
424
IRIDION.
Have given to you? Have you made any happy?
I've seen triumphal arches spring upon it,
The ivory chairs of the Ediles rise thereon ;
You have made roads o'er which to send your troops,
Raised marbles upon which you've graven your name
With the sweat and blood of dying, wretched men,
Yourselves thus dedicating to the vengeful Furies !
And when the tottering earth fell in your arms.
Like a deluded woman led astray,
The godlike dreams of Plato floated o'er it,
While even from Gades to the Ultima Thule,
Glittered the snowy sails of prosperous Carthage !
What have you made this world ? Answer me, Consul !
Speak ! What remains of all the happy past?
Do you not hear the sighs and sobs break forth
From the fainting hearts of the wretched Nazarenes
Whom you detain for torture in the catacombs?
Look at the wandering shadows of the Stoics, ^
Who try to console themselves for the loss of all
Making life precious, by the cold abstractions
Writ by Aurelius ! Can you call this, life?
Where has the Olive Branch, since Greece was ruined.
Flourished upon the earth you've made so wretched?
Show me the people whom your ancestors
Have soothed for the loss of liberty with hymns
Of hope and love, lessons of godlike wisdom?
Oh yes ! . . , I know ! . . . Augustus closed the gates
Of Janus in the evening of his life,
And venal lutes sang flatteries before him !
Consider, he but gave the name of peace
To silent deserts of the ruined, dead ! —
Only on wasted cities ground to dust,
On graves of bloody generations slaughtered.
You grave the words: Peace to the sons of men!
Domiiian. E'en as a father rules liis family,
Patricians rule plebeians ; masters, slaves.
So have we Quirites held provinces,
Inherited, subjected, or our own;
So do we rule the world. By the same law,
We govern earth we've conquered by the sword,
And o'er its head we hang the law of the sword !
I RID I ON. 425
Iridion. If you had ne'er made use of perfidy,
Deceived the credulous by lying words,
Wliat would have been your fate, O subde Roman?
Look on the legions of your proud Republic
Flving before the elephants of Pyrrhus,
Quailing beneath the pronged blades of the Samnites,
Falling like grass before the reaper's scythe
On Thrasimene's Lake, shrieking aloud
For mercy to the Spaniards, when inclosed
Li narrow defile where no water flowed.
\x\ the dense forests of Hercynia,
Paling before the prowess of the Germans,
They knelt like helpless victims to be slaughtered !
Not with the thunders of bold Alexander,^
Not with the valor of your naked blades,
But through your cups of poison, perjuries,
Conspiracies, fomented treasons, guiles,
Your treacherous friendships, dark diplomacies,
You've crawled and writhed into the power you hold !
No. Not among the mountains grew your eagles.
But in the fetid air of treacherous swamps !
Domitiau. Vainly you rage ! The granite rock on
which
You gnash your teeth but tears them from their sockets !
Thus you reject the mercy of your master?
Iridion. Wlio is my master? . . . I've known none on
earth !
Behind yon pvre, like monstrous birds of prey,
The Genii of Death are gathering fast !
In that still kingdom I am soon to enter.
They'll tell me, oi what Ccesar I am subject !
Here I've known only foes ; and a few slaves
Who love and serve me faithfully, my brothers.
I never have known peace, nor bliss, nor rest.
Only one godlike hour, dear to my soul.
Short, brilliant as the flash of clashing swords
That shatter suddenly in sparkling atoms, —
But sacred to ray heart for evermore !
None of you. Brothers, shared that hour with me;
// was myself, — and I was // entire ;
There was no separate identity !
426 I RID I ON.
The torch of vengeance blazed in my hot hands ;
The accursed city lay beneath my feet,
More and more closely veiled in night's dim shroud ;
The winds arose : . . . Fire ! Fire ! . . .
(Zr<? turns pale and leans for support on the statue of Am-
pliilochus. )
Ah ! Nemesis !
Domitian. What is the matter, Greek? How pale you
grow !
Iridion {recovering himself^. More Roman blood is
wanting to my cheeks !
Domitian. The gods have warned you by some inward
sign !
For the last time, in the name of him who sent me,
I warn you, sentence will be passed against you.
For the last time, I offer Caesar's grace.
Pardon still lies within your grasp, for Rome
Is ever ready to forgive the humble!
Iridion. Is such the conclusion you draw from my
words ?
Is this the Jurist's lore? . . . Wait, Consul, wait !
Euphorion, hand the consecrated cup !
(yEuphorion hands a bowl of wine. )
I pour the Lesbian foam upon thy feet,
{Etnpties the wine at the feet of the statue. )
Amphilochus ! Receive my bloom of life
In sacrifice ! Father, I come to thee ! . . .
Euphorion, fill again ! . . . Drink, Brothers, drink !
Drink, as the faitiiful men of Leonidas
Pledged one another ere their twilight fell !
( The cup is filled and refilled as it passes round from man
to man.
)
Drink, and be free from sad or evil thoughts !
(^After the cup has circled round the men, it is ai^ain filled ;
Iridion holds it in his hand as he approaches the altar
ruhiih stands bctioeen the statue of Amphilochus and t/ie
body of Elsinoe, upon which altar fire blazes. He draws
from his finger the ring of Empire. )
IRIDION.
427
The Guardian Genius of the cruel Empire;
The god who guides its future Destiny,
Blessed by the augurs, famed and liymned by prophets,
Revered by vestals in their sacred chants,
{He holds the ring above the flavies. )
Given by the Senate but to Caesar's hand,
The Fate of Rome, — I dedicate to thee
In sacrifice, O Father ! Mother, thee !
And thee, beloved Hellas !
Domitian. Stop ! Stop the impious sacrilege ! Arrest
The desecration of the holy symbol !
Is there a Roman here who hears my voice?
Life, honor, gold, are his who saves the ring !
I vow by Stator, by Quirinus, swear !
Hold, infamous boaster! The mystic name of Rome,
Her Fate, her Honor, live within the seal !
Iriition. Life! Honor! Gold! My Brothers, have
you heard ?
The Name and Fate of Rome live in this ring !
{He throws the ring into the flarnes. Domitian covers his
head with his toga. )
CHORUS.
The Roman throws the toga o'er his head ;
Sorrow and anger swell his troubled breast;
He dares not lift his head to meet our eyes !
Eiige ! Euge !
Iridion. Before my lips are closed in death forever,
I utter my last will. {To his soldiers. ) Hearken to me,
And with me join to curse the accursed city !
CHORUS.
Look ! is it the reflection from the blaze,
Or does Apollo crown liim with his light,
That thus his face illumes with sudden glory?
Iridion. Woe to the victors ! Woe ! As they would
have *
Degraded us, so may they be abased !
All who are born in Rome, all dead in Rome,
Women and children, men, — may all be slaves !
428 IRIDIOM.
CHORUS OF MEN.
Women and children, men, — may all be slaves !
Iridion. Eternal "Fuiumf Rise from thy high
throne,
Where thou art seated o'er all other gods;
Descend to earth, rest on these seven hills,
Become the Fury of their agonies!
May Rome, which ruins all, die at Thy Feet,
All-Creator, God of all their gods!
CHORUS OF MEN.
Destroy their race! Their language die with them!
Iridion. Their infamy shall live till Time shall be no
more !
Let the tradition of their tyranny
Be their eternal epitaph ! May all
Who read it in the future curse them, — curse them
From age to age, while lasts the universe !
CHORUS OF MEN.
Curse them from age to age, while lasts the universe !
Iridion. The hour of prayer and sacrifice is past;
The flame is dying out upon the altar;
The god of Rome is dead! Consul, look up!
Doniitian. You break all codes, outrage the holiest
symbols !
According to the customs of our Fathers,
1 shut you from the protection of all law;
I interdict the use of fire and water!
The slave who brings your head shall have his freedom;
The freeman, have his statue near the rostrum,
A seat next to the Consul at the games!
Villain, I go to await you at the gate
Of the Mamertine prison! Madman, death-doomed,
I'll see you plunge from the Tarpeian rock!
Iridion. None here will raise a hand against me ! Go!
Rage is unseemly with a head of snow.
i^Exii Domitian. )
IRIDION. 429
Thy funeral pyre is ready, sunny-haired !
Take up the bier and bear it gently, slaves!
Salve Eternum, Elsinoe pure!
( They carry the bier slozaly out, Iridion walking beside it,
followed by Pilades. Exeunt soldiers, attendants, etc. )
SCENE III. Moonlight. A street in Rome. On one side
stands the temple of Venus, opposite to it is the Flavian am-
phitheatre. Lucius Tubero and the prcetorians are seen
upon the steps of the temple.
Tubero. Aristomachus should be here ere this.
Night had scarce f. illen when we parted ; now
The moon stands high above the amphitheatre.
The giant shadows, silence of these arches,
Weigh upon me ! I know not why it is,
But the fresh breath of night, instead of calming,
Burns on my cheek. How anxious is this waiting!
Yet I have looked on far more desperate things
Without a shudder. Soul, thou slave of Lucius,
Why dost thou now revolt against thy master?
'Tis said that when the end of life draws near,
The spirit grows afraid and warns the body.
Brutus had signs before the last lost fight,
And Otho too at Bedriacum . . . Diespiter !
This is no time for Tubero to die!
Young Caesar counts on my experience,
And with Domitian I can hold the reins.
Sliould the great jurist fall beneath the sword
Of the mad Greek or axes of the Germans, —
Then . . . then . . . Who answers me? Marspiter!
speak ! . . .
'Tis nobody! Only a lion roused from sleep
And roaring in the vaults below the circus.
No, — there are other sounds ! Voices and tumult!
Marspiter! who comes here?
i^Armedmeti rush in in disorder, followed by h'RiSTOMXCnus. )
Aristomachus. Help! help!
Tubero. Shame ! shame !
37
430
IRIDION.
Caesar upon the Forum waits for you
To bring the Greek in chains; you fly before him!
Aristomachus. Were he the Father of both gods and
men,
He lies who says I fear! I have just driven
This javelin through the breasts of two centurions
Because they wavered, turned their faces from
The flaming eyes of this same fiery Greek.
Tubero. Whence gets He this new power? Does he
sow dragons' teeth
Which grow to men as soon as they are planted?
Aristomachus. He must be near the end, but he still
fights
With supernatural force and bravery.
As we marched o'er the slope of the Viminalis,
He rushed upon us like a lava torrent.
Throwing his flaming torches, fiery arrows.
And burning naphtha. Face to face we met;
Three times a desperate encounter followed;
As if from Vulcan's anvil flew the sparks
Between his shield and my tried sword: in vain,
For each time were we driven by the crowd apart.
Tubero. I swear to hang within thy Temple, Mars,
His armor, when Fve torn it from the Greek!
Aristomachus. Take off your breastplate, Tubero !
Two scales
Ruptured above the heart just as you spoke 1
Tubero. The gods avert the omen !
{Exeunt Tubero afid Aristomachus. ')
Masinissa (a/>pearingupon the strfs of the tetnple of Venus').
Ye birds of niglit, fed on the arena's blood,
Spread your black wings, and circle round my head I
Moon, ghastly ruin of a dead volcano,
Wliere Vulcan raged, whom men in idle dreams
Have changed to star of jjurity and peace,
Send me thy j)ale, thy faded rays!
Earth, give me that which still belongs to me!
Air, pay me what is due! I fain would feed
To-day on poison, misery, and blood,
As I once fed upon eternal light !
I RID ION. 431
Another day, another night, and I,
With my brave son, depart to other scenes !
A CHORUS OF FEMALE SPIRITS FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE
TEMPLE.
The Beautiful, Voluptuous, salute their Lord !
Floating above the helmets of the warriors,
Our cheeks we freshen in hot human blood :
The blood shed by thy son is now our favorite mirror !
The Beautiful, Voluptuous, warn their Lord,
That at the rising of Orion's stars,
The mystic spirit came, rolling in streams
Through the blue depths of ether's haunted realm !
All melancholy clouds, all silent charms
It weaves, re-weaves around Iridion's soul !
Masinissa. Does my son heed the whispers of the
spirit ?
CHORUS OF FEMALE SPIRITS.
Whene'er this mystic thought, which has no voice,
Touches his heart, he chill and pallid grows.
His sword still seeks the weak points in the armor,
But cannot break into the House of Life.
Like a fallen angel he still strives and fights
'Midst heaps of ruins. Hasten to him, Lord!
Masinissa. Feeble and misty soul of a chaste virgin,
Pure sighs breathed from the other side of graves,
You shall not tear Iridion from my grasp !
I have not trained his hands to strike your golden harps,
Nor tuned his vengeful lips to chant your hymns of praise !
{He disappears. ')
SCENE IV. The Forum lighted by torches. Alexander
is seated in a curtile chair ; behind him stand the guard
with golden eagles. Domitian is at his side. Aristo-
MACHUS enters, followed by soldiers bearing in SciPio,
dangerously wounded.
Aristomachus. O godlike Emperor ! Brave Tubero
Ere this has made a captive of the Greek !
432
IRIDION.
I was with him when he began the fight
With the Cherusci, who, led by this man,
{He points to Scipio. ')
Stood on the farther slope of the Viminal.
I pressed him so severely that they cried :
" Long live Severus, Caesar ! " They swore to me
By all the gods of the north, that they had lost
Their senses after Heliogabalus perished.
This man closed up the months of two or three
With vigorous thrusts ; — the rest massed on our side.
Alexander. Aristomachus, our best thanks are due !
Aristomachus. I must return to Tubero.
{Exit Afistomachus. ^
Domitian {to Scipio). Your name ?
Scipio. A dying man !
Domitian. Reveal the hidden truth,
And reconcile yourself ere your last sigh
With the just gods.
Scipio. Just gods / JV/iere may JJind them ?
Domitian. Answer before your Emperor ! Since
when
Have you conspired ?
Scipio. I cannot count. —
Since the beginning of eternity !
Domitiaji. Nay, jest not, slave !
