The Tragedy of Etarre - Act Three by Rhys Carpenter Lyrics
SCENE: Three richly bedecked pavilions, the central one in the foreground, the others set
further back. Draperies and silk hangings. The curtain of the central pavilion is drawn
aside to reveal the decorated interior. Within, and near the entrance, are seated GAWAINE and
ETARRE. To the left, through the branching trees and above their summits, the walls of the Castle
of ETARRE are dimly visible. Toward the right, a gentle slope descends to a thicket which
shuts off the view. The last colours of sunset are in the sky.
ETARRE
Now sinks the day beneath the western rim.
Night's hooded shepherd gathers-in the light
And drives the crimson and the purple hues
From highest heav'n unto their twilight fold;
There shall they sleep till morn upwakes anew
And sends them forth on eastern pasturage.
O golden cloud, farewell; and yonder, too,
Which like a billowed sea upon the West
Heaves ruddy flame. Farewell, sweet colours all;
That night makes shut the heavy doors of sleep
And seals the portals with a silver star.
GAWAINE
Dim silence flings its misty veil abroad.
Hark! how the birds are stilled, and one by one
Drop off to slumber.
ETARRE
Soon the hornèd bat,
Shy lover of the twilight, soft of flight,
With ribbèd wings in noiseless here-and-there
Will weave the darkness; and the searching owl
Will be a shadow-phantom clothed with sight.
GAWAINE
Gone is the day, and now another sun,
Another taper in th' eternal halls,
Is quenched for ever.
ETARRE
So the breath of night
Moves down the long expanse of kindled flames
And one by one makes dark the future days,
Until the last weak taper is blown out
And night unending rules the sunless world.
GAWAINE
Let not the sadness of departed day
Weigh present joy with far fore-boded grief.
Night robs us not of vision, though her hands
Pluck down the light from heav'n and bind our eyes.
Night clothes herself in beauty like a queen
And robes her naked body with soft folds
Whose half-concealment makes more rapturous
The deep allurement of her charms. The day
Is but a meadow garlanded with flowers;
The darkness is a forest, deep and far,
Where wonders move in every rustling leaf,
And every footfall of the wind foretells
Some mystic presence. In the noonday sun
We see too well, and thence see not at all;
But in the night our very spirit wakes,
And with more gleaming power than day-lit eyes
Reads deep the world's enchanted rune. 'Tis Night
Who unto our most sacred thought and word
In birth brings for the beauty of the soul.
ETARRE
With quiet hands she lights her waiting stars
And sends them forth to wander in the skies.
O Night, sweet mother of eternal calm,
I owe thee penance. Thy bright brother, Day,
Has lured me with his colours.
GAWAINE
See, the East
Is spreading silver cloth of woven light.
ETARRE
The little people of the hills and meads
Now hold their gathering at full of moon,
With grave debate enacting law and will
Whereby to rule. In angry conclave set,
Till beast and bird are stricken by their wrath
And cry full penitence.
GAWAINE
This is a tale;
Yet in this land are wonders strange enow
Which I myself have witnessed.
ETARRE
There be three
Who hold this land in power, and with strange skill
Ordain the deeds of men. They oft appear
To travellers intent on distant ways
And by gift of favour bind their will.
These three have you encountered?
GAWAINE
Even they.
What shall their craft portend?
ETARRE
Nor good nor ill.
My knights in journey unto other courts,
My men from field returning at the dusk
Have met these three and for some trifling grace,
A draught of water or a sprig of thorn,
Been bound to choice, but having mid the three
To one assented are unharmed released.
[The moon rises.]
GAWAINE
Whence are they, and with what malign intent
Draw toll from men?
ETARRE
This no man knows or deems.
They are of mist and water, and their ways
Are as the air phantastic or the clouds
Which change their shape to every wilful mood.
But this adventure comes from many lips
And I would hear some deed of sword and spear
Wrough by your hand alone, and from your lips
Alone recounted. Were you not of they
Who sought the Grail through lands beyond the sea
And wrought adventure such as none had dreamed?
GAWAINE
A future quest, forever unfulfilled;
A lure across the rainbow to the sun!
'Tis present always and yet never here.
May I not be of them who make this life
A great To-be, a vision and a dream.
Has earth no riches, that we ride aquest
To find the silver path beyond the moon?
Are there no flowers save those which other walls
Enclose for ever from us, and no streams
Save those beyond the trackless rocks, no sun
In our own heav'n and no portentous start
Save those which others see? O wretched souls
That spurn the wine of life, and drain the cup
Into the basin which is never filled,
Where all the lees of mad desire run down, --
The Unattainable, the great In Vain!
It is enough for me that here to-night
I feel the soft sweet air and view the stars
And hear your voice beside me. 'Tis enough
That love is beautiful, that life is great,
That old age is not come, nor winter bleak.
ETARRE
The year looks backward with half-wistful face
This autumn night; the air is soft with spring
And lulls the sense to a sweet repose.
So is it on the first warm eve of May
When earth, expectant of an unseen grace,
Awaits it knows not what, all awed and still,
And thinks to hear across the sleeping hills
The footsteps of divinity returned.
GAWAINE
And not in vain; for God, each Spring, descends
In guise unseen to shape the world anew
To plant desire in every fleshly form
And resurrect the world from winter sleep.
Meseems, to-night He is returned to earth
And with soft wand of vernal sorcery
Brought back the Spring, and in our sleeping souls
Awakened voices singing through the dark
Like birds beneath the stars, to fill the night
With rapt enchantment.
ETARRE
Mystical delight!
Awake, awake, O sleeping birds of song!
AWake within my heart, O silent birds,
And fill the night with music till the stars
Tremble in adoration! Have I lived and breathed
These many years, these sombre silent years,
Or was I numbered with the dreamless dead,
Encharnelled in a palace, deep entombed
In empty vault of daily thought and deed?
Like them that walk within a sleep wide-eyed
And deem themselves awake, so have I lived, --
Nay, so been dead, and deemd myself alive.
GAWAINE
Do you not feel a pulse of eager blood
Through every vein, striving with beat and throb
To rouse the broken armies of the spring,
And hear the stamping of the hoofs, the cries
Of mounted knights to battle riding down?
They are reclaiming to their empery
The autumn year, and winter's pagan horde
Falls back before them.
ETARRE
Not in earth and air
Alone they conquer, but in human mind
They set their banners and in human heart
Stir high their beacons.
GAWAINE
Yea, in thine and mine,
Held captive to them here beneath the stars.
ETARRE
The flames leap heavenward with growing beam
Of kindled passion. O mad heart, wild heart,
Why do you beat so fast, why leap and strive
Like a wild thing netted, caught within a snare
That leaves it free to struggle? O sweet heart,
Be still, be still!
GAWAINE
O sweeter lips, speak on;
Or better, speak no more; but unto mine
Make harmony of silence and desire.
[They kiss.]
[From the pavilions in the background is heard a voice singing.]
SONG
When bleak December bares the hills
And snowflakes curl in air,
When hoary January chills
Young hearts with old despair,
When February plucks the day
And plumes the stormy night,
When March winds prowl in quest of prey
And battle with the light,
By river marge and reedless lake
Love makes her weary moan,
"O April sun, awake, awake!"
She sings alone, alone.
O hearts of men, make penance due
When April draws anear,
For life is false, but love is true,
And Spring is here, is here!
GAWAINE
O singing voice, the year is old and grey,
Unto the tomb totters her shaking step.
September has from April stolen dress
And you by quick illusion are deceived.
ETARRE
One day, one night, one shift of moon and sun,
Each year are stolen from the hoard of Spring
And unto Autumn given. On that eve
All flowers, unknown to sleep-enchanted eyes,
Break into blossom from a withered stem,
The trees are clothed in leaf, the faded stars
Put on new splendour, and the drowsy earth
With glow-worm hangs each branch and dewy bower.
It is the year's farewell festivity
Ere love be quenched and winter cold return,
Ere bird fly southward under warmer skies
And fourfoot beast to sunless lair retire.
GAWAINE
But we unharmed through rainy nights and chill
Shall hear the storm about the towered walls,
And in security close-wrapped shall laugh
When winter's frosty fingers pierce and pry
At every stone and corner, and the wind
Cries like a beast unsheltered through the night.
Yea, thou and I, caught in each other's arms,
Shall dream of stormy battle overhead
When winter with the giants of the north
Sweeps down across the hills and smites the plain
With desolation, when above the dead
The whirling snow in burial descends,
When waters are bound captive in strong chains,
When wells are sealed, and rivers turned to stone.
And I will tell thee many a tale and strange
Of dark enchantment wrought in waking dreams,
Of magic lawns, and flowers that backward draw,
Of shields that burn in flame, and helms that raise
Quick serpents clutching the unwarded blow.
So shall we hold the icy fiend at scorn
And waken endless summer in our breast,
With love to sing to us, and love to clothe
Our souls with gladness and our hearts with peace.
ETARRE
How many times I love thee, whom three days
Have scarcely crowned, whom speech and look and thought
Have scarce revealed! And yet a thousand suns
Could with no lordlier radiance bind thy brows
Nor with more light illumine.
GAWAINE
Thou are dear
As pearl deep-hidden in the lightless sea
Which careless net a-search for other prey
By chance drags upward to th' astounded light.
One glance alone, one beam of shafted day,
The wretched fisher clutches priceless wealth
And needs no knowledge wrought of week and year
To teach his fortune. So art thou to me,
Revealed and perfect in an instant sight.
ETARRE
Hold me yet closer, let the living world
Sink from me like wild stars that seek the night
And downward vanish in the vast obscure.
Quench yonder gleams that hold the dark in power,
And ban yon moving shield of argent beam;
Veil moon and stars, and draw me to thy own.
GAWAINE
O best endeared and sweet belovèd form,
Thou art the earth's most precious heritage.
A thousand years, she fashioned in the dark
With labour and sad toil, and brought thee forth
To be her fairest marvel all unstained.
Thou art of summer nutured, light-enwrought,
Cradled in southern flame.
ETARRE
The silent years
In their dim fastness of forgotten days
With virgin toil unrecompensed and lone
Have fashioned me and brought me to thy lips.
GAWAINE
And now like shrouded mantles of the dawn
Soft falling from the shoulders of the sun,
They do reveal thee, girt and crowned with love,
Thine inmost self, for utmost worship meet.
ETARRE
They have deserted me, like startled birds
Rising from nook and deep recess of rock
And wheeling, wheeling higher overhead,
Till with a sudden impulse they depart
And leave the watcher on the silent shore
Alone and marvelling. So have they fled,
My years of childhood and of maiden thought,
My lonely years of growing womanhood,
And I am left alone with love and thee,
While at my feet the waters smite the shore,
Wave after wave, in-coming from the deep.
GAWAINE
Of that great time-swept ocean have no fear.
The future is a snare to lead the eye
Toward far horizons clouding the unknown.
It is the present which our feet must tread
And there our vision is the most unsheathed
And we with least illusion can behold.
Think not of years, but grasp the present day,
And adamantine make the fleeting phase,
Arrested and in memory's stone held fast,
Carved with rich wonder, traced with strange design.
ETARRE
Ah would that Time thus stayed his course, or clipped
The present hour and left it shorn of wings
To be our prisoner! For evermore
Should I so cling to thee, my lips upheld
For thy sweet ardour and enkindled mouth,
For ever so be clasped within thine arms,
And dure eternity in thine embrace.
GAWAINE
All things save this can might of love fulfil.
Love can of dew makes pearls and emeralds
And build a palace of a ruined moat,
From deepest forest charm the wingèd bird
To minstrelsy and hymeneal song,
And from the mountains draw the sullen wild
To serve in quick attendance at the feast.
With power of shadowed dreams and quickening thought
Love is endowed: she chains eternal things
To be her servant, binds th' unwilling moon,
And draws the silver-threaded stars which weave
The tapestries of heav'n. The golden sun,
Which like a shuttle moves across the sky
With strands alternate of the day and night,
Becomes her slave and lives but for her word.
For they that love are rulers of the earth
And in their hands the future ages lie.
[A nightingale sings close at hand.]
ETARRE
Did I not say this night was caught from Spring?
Hark April's nightingale who turns the dark
To music, and with radiant voice proclaims
That summer is not fled, nor autumn here.
To bed! to bed! sweet bird; with weary eyes
You'll see the dawn if he o'ertake you singing.
GAWAINE
And unto us that selfsame counsel turns
And bids us sleep. Good night, sweet love, good night.
ETARRE
Kiss me once more, till love be bared indeed
And I in sweet communion with thy thoughts
Be drawn into thy life and be a dream
Within thy mind, a pulse within thy heart. --
Kiss me once more, till life forsake his toil
Of mystic alchemy and hidden consonance
Of soul with body, till he break his glass
Wherein he visions that processional
Of generation unto generation matched,
That sequence of mankind and beast and bird
Which marks his handicraft: kiss me once more,
Until he merge my soul in deathless bond
To thine, and in eternal union join
Our mind and thought and will. -- Kiss me once more,
Till heav'n and earth be reft of all their veils
And robbed of their mysterious dark conceit,
Till I behold the circles of the sun
And see the pulsing of the day and night,
Hear time upon his anvil forge the stars,
And be at one with universal might. --
Kiss me once more, and shatter earth and sky
Hurl all to dissolution, and with stroke
Of vast desire still that gigantic heart
Whose beating is the living, moving world.
Leave me alone with thee, set round with night,
In universal dark of boundless space,
Alone, alone. -- Kiss me, and so good night!
[She rises and comes forward to the entrance of the
pavilion, where she stands gazing out.]
How silent treads the night, how soft and still,
With finger at her lips to hush each sound,
That none of those who bide beneath her care
Shall with uneasy dreams be stirred, and wake.
Sleep soft, ye woods and meadow-lands,
Ye silent leaves and sleeping flowers.
Pale primroses, and daisies, ye sweet eyes
With which the earth looks out on heaven,
Be still; all, all, be still.
Farewell, ye stars which overhead
Drift by with distant song.
Moon wide-eyed, watch well;
Watch well until the dawn.
[She lets fall the curtain across the entrance of the pavilion, thus shrouding GAWAINE and her-
self from sight. The moon has now risen high above the trees and bathes the stage in silver
light. A soft wind stirs the leaves. Their rustling is taken up and transformed to music,
-- at first scarcely audible, but gradually growing in intensity,-- representing the sounds
of a late summer night.]
[The music stills. PELLEAS and FERGUS emerge from the thicket on the right.]
PELLEAS
Stay still: no further move. Our question here
Shall find its answer.
FERGUS
Know you what this means?
PELLEAS
Rejoicing and festivity.
FERGUS
The rite
Of burial.
PELLEAS
What mean you?
FERGUS
That the dead
From battle ride not home. You are betrayed.
This is rejoicing for your death, festivity
To honour him who slew you. For she holds
That Gawaine with true victor's right and might
Carries your shield and helm. You are betrayed.
PELLEAS
Though mine own eyes beheld, I scarce should hold
That such a knight to such a vow were false.
'Tis Gawaine, born of Caerleon's royal blood,
Whom you, low-born, attaint. With deadly vow
He swore him faithful, and in utmost pledge
Bound life and body to fulfil my love.
These were his words upon my sword-hilt sworn:
"If I be found unfaithful, changeful, false,
May my bare throat feel this unsheathèd blade,
May I be cast for ever from the light!"
FERGUS
The vow is forfeit. Go! reclaim the oath.
They have no fear of you and set no guard.
Etarre believes you dead, and Gawaine laughs.
She shall remember that the dead arise
To wreak their vengeance. In these tents are hid
Sure proofs and testimony.
PELLEAS
There remain,
Within yon thicket hidden, till I come.
[FERGUS draws back out of sight. PELLEAS advances up the slope toward the central pavilion.]
PELLEAS
Is this the timid prey which ran to earth
Close harried, and like mole which dreads the light
Drew shut her portals? This is she who feared
My least approach, who with armed battlement
Greeted my coming and with moat unbridged
Bade welcome. These soft silks and drooping fanes
Point mockery, as though they scorned to hide
That which they cannot guard.
[He has approached the curtain of the pavilion.]
So comes the thief
At dead of night on foul endeavour bent,
So peers to left and right with fearing eye,
And so on tip-toe to his booty draws.
O watching powers of darkness and deceit,
Grant that I be the very thief and true,
And not myself the stolen-from, the robbed,
The injured one down-tracking to his lair
The plucking knave and claiming back his own!
[He raises the curtain and peers in. After a moment he suddenly starts back.]
O sight too horrible for mortal eyes,
Burning the eye-ball with a blackened scar
Of infamy and loathing! Oh, be blind,
Twice injured eyes. Look not again on light.
Clothe yourselves round with darkness, and forget
This fatal gift of seeing! O accursed,
O nest of shame breeding repugnant brood
Of broken oaths and false virginity!
Now is the scroll of knighthood ended; fame
Forsakes her ancient stronghold of renown.
The days of chivalry are past, and knights
With plea insidious of inviolate oath
Work treason and adultery. This was Etarre,
The maiden ivory in her chastity,
With eyes downcast for fear of shame; and now
Her lips are drawn apart with hungry sin
And like a serpent feast on evil fruit.
O night, how canst thou sleep so still? Up! Wake!
With hundred voices clamour at this deed,
And loose the hell-hounds of your winds and storms
To sweep into destruction's cloven pit
This treachery and crime! O bitterness of man,
To see his life down-trodden and the dust
Of wild despair heap charnel mounds and whirl
In mockery, while Heaven lifts no hand,
The oceans are unmoved, the river-floods
Within their channels tarry, wind and fire
Their ancient office elsewhere do perform,
And moon and star smile in serenity!
Forsaken, thrice forsaken, with his grief
Man wrings no pity. The great world is stone;
God holds himself aloof, cold, passionless,
Wrapt in designs of far eternities.
Spurning the race which shudders at his feet,
He fashions future kingdoms. Weak, alone,
From death unsheltered, bearing wounds and ill
In life upgathered, man cries out in vain
For judge of evil, champion 'gainst the wrong.
But I, though I be so forsaken, scorned of God,
Unheard of earth and Heaven, yet shall I
Fulfil my vengeance, with unaided hand,
And right the wrong and champion the true!
False Nature, cry farewell to children twain
Whom hast thou nurtured into infamy;
Thou canst not save them! here, against thy will,
I slay them, and in mockery of thee.
[Lifting the curtain of the pavilion with one hand, and with the other holding his drawn sword,
he enters and disappears from view. He re-emerges.]
And is it manhood so to halt and fail,
To hide the sword of vengeance in the sheath
Of pity? Thought and deed wage mutual war,
And deed is conquered; the weak thought prevails.
So let them sleep; I cannot slay them now. --
[He turns to go, but halts suddenly.]
What, let that injury to all my hopes
So slumber on, so let that shameless word
Sleep unavenged? --
Ah me, how still they lay!
Gawaine at peace, half god-like in his dreams,
And she like carven statue motionless,
Her lips half-smiling, her dark-lidded eyes
Soft closed, and one white hand against her breast
As though her lover still within her clasp
Lay sleeping. --
O deep misery accursed
To find Etarre at last, and find her so!
Am I by craft of wizardry encharmed
That all my thoughts are shades and fleshless dreams?
With maiden weakness here I stand and weep
As though I had no strength of hand, no sword
To bring me vengeance, and no warrior's will
To punish proved deceit and oath forsworn.
Unto my mercy's prayer I cast Etarre
For pittance, but my anger's deadly curse
Shall Gawaine take, and with the stroke of death
Drive out his soul from earthly dwelling place
And ban for ever from the living world.
[He re-enters the pavilion. After a little, he re-emerges.]
Sleep on, sleep on, I cannot slay you here.
On field of battle, waking and full-armed,
I'll slay you; but not here, not now, asleep,
Unarmed, defenceless. Though you traitor be,
Of knighthood's stroke unworthy, yet am I
A knight, and with that sacred oath am bound
To slay no sleeping man nor foe unarmed,
To battle with the sword and not, as they
Who slay their sheep for feasting, to approach
With sharpened knife the victim's helpless throat.
Not so in cowardice was knighthood framed,
Not so adorned for valour. Nay, sleep on.
You've wronged me more than thousand deaths could pay;
To take a single life so wretchedly
Were but a mockery of payment. Nay, sleep on,
And if your dreams affright you, be at ease;
For that grim shadow, standing at your bed
And with malign intent upon your life
Down-gazing, is departed and returns
No more to vex you. Ay, sleep on, sleep on.
[He proceeds down the slope. At the foot of the slope he is met by FERGUS.]
FERGUS
And was it other than I said?
PELLEAS
Full well
Your heart's malignity foretold me truth.
FERGUS
Gawaine is false?
PELLEAS
The night with darkling robe
No falser thing conceals.
FERGUS
Where are they hid?
PELLEAS
Yonder pavilion holds the twain as one.
FERGUS
Then have you slain them, meted that reward
Alone sufficient and well-earned?
PELLEAS
They live.
FERGUS
You had not power, not opportunity
To fall upon them; they were held in guard
Or otherway from you removed?
PELLEAS
Unwatched
Their couch, unarmed they sleep and lone.
FERGUS
And are not dead! Are you of honour reft,
Of resolution shorn, of anger void!
Unmoved you know yourself betrayed and spurned,
Laughed at and mocked, your prize of ten long years
Snatched from you in a day, and all your life
O'ercast with sorrow. Have you not a sword?
Do swords not slay? Alas, suspicion grows;
This is not Pelleas who held the field
Of armoured knights at nought! This is a shade,
And Pelleas by years of pining love
Is grown too frail for manhood, and too weak
For anger. Quick, take sword, and slay;
Set seal of blood on this foul testament.
Match deed to deed. Send me with hungry knife
And I will slay, and take the fault, the shame,
If you have found a fault in such a right,
A shame in such a work of injured honour.
PELLEAS
I cannot slay a sleeping knight, nor turn
The pointed sword against a woman's breast.
Let us depart this most unhallowed spot
Lest quick contagion which is here abroad
Should with its ill infect us.
FERGUS
Unavenged
You would depart, and leave no trace behind,
No proof of anger, no memorial
To that dishonourable union set,
As though you were the spirit of the wind
Across the moors, trailing nor track nor sign
To mark your presence? Shall they wake at dawn
And fill another day with wretched love,
And deem themselves secure and laugh at thought
Of Pelleas?
PELLEAS
Well said, a sign, a sign
That I am not a shadow, but a man,
A fleshly thing with mortal strength of arm,
A threat of punishment, a deadly fear
Unsilenced in their hearts.
FERGUS
Ay, still their hearts.
This is the sign I meant, the sign of death,
That all men may take knowledge to themselves
And learn what thing it is thus to forswear
All honour, and in treason to be false
To Pelleas. These two together slain
Shall be a history to all mankind,
A legend and a saying.
PELLEAS
Here remain
Yet once again until the deed be done.
I shall exact his oath.
[He ascends toward the pavilion.]
FERGUS
Praise be to Heaven!
The ancient valour is returned, to swell
High flood of vengeance and exact the oath.
How ran the words wherewith he pledged his life?
"May my bare throat feel this unsheathèd blade,
May I be cast for ever from the light!"
Then is he slain.
[PELLEAS enters the pavilion.]
And yet his temper burns
Like sudden sun upon an April day,
Hot for the moment but too soon o'ercast.
Let me go up and strengthen his resolve
Lest at the last he weaken.
[He moves toward the pavilion. PELLEAS comes out.]
Ah, returned,
So soon returned. He had not time to fail.
PELLEAS
It is fulfilled. Across his naked throat
My sword has gone.
FERGUS
And he is slain in truth!
PELLEAS
Slain? Nay, not slain, but sleeping as before.
So let them sleep until the morning comes
To waken them and they behold my sword
Across their breasts, close drawn beneath their throats,
A sign, in symbol of a broken oath.
Comes, let us go; the night draws on apace.
FERGUS
O idle hope to dream that he was dead,
By vengeance over taken! No! return;
Not so that oath was sworn, not such th' intent;
With death he bargained. Let him death receive.
PELLEAS
What I have done is with full purpose wrought.
Come, let us go; the night draws on apace.
[They disappear into the thicket. A cloud crosses the moon, and a sudden gust of wind shakes the trees.]
CURTAIN
further back. Draperies and silk hangings. The curtain of the central pavilion is drawn
aside to reveal the decorated interior. Within, and near the entrance, are seated GAWAINE and
ETARRE. To the left, through the branching trees and above their summits, the walls of the Castle
of ETARRE are dimly visible. Toward the right, a gentle slope descends to a thicket which
shuts off the view. The last colours of sunset are in the sky.
ETARRE
Now sinks the day beneath the western rim.
Night's hooded shepherd gathers-in the light
And drives the crimson and the purple hues
From highest heav'n unto their twilight fold;
There shall they sleep till morn upwakes anew
And sends them forth on eastern pasturage.
O golden cloud, farewell; and yonder, too,
Which like a billowed sea upon the West
Heaves ruddy flame. Farewell, sweet colours all;
That night makes shut the heavy doors of sleep
And seals the portals with a silver star.
GAWAINE
Dim silence flings its misty veil abroad.
Hark! how the birds are stilled, and one by one
Drop off to slumber.
ETARRE
Soon the hornèd bat,
Shy lover of the twilight, soft of flight,
With ribbèd wings in noiseless here-and-there
Will weave the darkness; and the searching owl
Will be a shadow-phantom clothed with sight.
GAWAINE
Gone is the day, and now another sun,
Another taper in th' eternal halls,
Is quenched for ever.
ETARRE
So the breath of night
Moves down the long expanse of kindled flames
And one by one makes dark the future days,
Until the last weak taper is blown out
And night unending rules the sunless world.
GAWAINE
Let not the sadness of departed day
Weigh present joy with far fore-boded grief.
Night robs us not of vision, though her hands
Pluck down the light from heav'n and bind our eyes.
Night clothes herself in beauty like a queen
And robes her naked body with soft folds
Whose half-concealment makes more rapturous
The deep allurement of her charms. The day
Is but a meadow garlanded with flowers;
The darkness is a forest, deep and far,
Where wonders move in every rustling leaf,
And every footfall of the wind foretells
Some mystic presence. In the noonday sun
We see too well, and thence see not at all;
But in the night our very spirit wakes,
And with more gleaming power than day-lit eyes
Reads deep the world's enchanted rune. 'Tis Night
Who unto our most sacred thought and word
In birth brings for the beauty of the soul.
ETARRE
With quiet hands she lights her waiting stars
And sends them forth to wander in the skies.
O Night, sweet mother of eternal calm,
I owe thee penance. Thy bright brother, Day,
Has lured me with his colours.
GAWAINE
See, the East
Is spreading silver cloth of woven light.
ETARRE
The little people of the hills and meads
Now hold their gathering at full of moon,
With grave debate enacting law and will
Whereby to rule. In angry conclave set,
Till beast and bird are stricken by their wrath
And cry full penitence.
GAWAINE
This is a tale;
Yet in this land are wonders strange enow
Which I myself have witnessed.
ETARRE
There be three
Who hold this land in power, and with strange skill
Ordain the deeds of men. They oft appear
To travellers intent on distant ways
And by gift of favour bind their will.
These three have you encountered?
GAWAINE
Even they.
What shall their craft portend?
ETARRE
Nor good nor ill.
My knights in journey unto other courts,
My men from field returning at the dusk
Have met these three and for some trifling grace,
A draught of water or a sprig of thorn,
Been bound to choice, but having mid the three
To one assented are unharmed released.
[The moon rises.]
GAWAINE
Whence are they, and with what malign intent
Draw toll from men?
ETARRE
This no man knows or deems.
They are of mist and water, and their ways
Are as the air phantastic or the clouds
Which change their shape to every wilful mood.
But this adventure comes from many lips
And I would hear some deed of sword and spear
Wrough by your hand alone, and from your lips
Alone recounted. Were you not of they
Who sought the Grail through lands beyond the sea
And wrought adventure such as none had dreamed?
GAWAINE
A future quest, forever unfulfilled;
A lure across the rainbow to the sun!
'Tis present always and yet never here.
May I not be of them who make this life
A great To-be, a vision and a dream.
Has earth no riches, that we ride aquest
To find the silver path beyond the moon?
Are there no flowers save those which other walls
Enclose for ever from us, and no streams
Save those beyond the trackless rocks, no sun
In our own heav'n and no portentous start
Save those which others see? O wretched souls
That spurn the wine of life, and drain the cup
Into the basin which is never filled,
Where all the lees of mad desire run down, --
The Unattainable, the great In Vain!
It is enough for me that here to-night
I feel the soft sweet air and view the stars
And hear your voice beside me. 'Tis enough
That love is beautiful, that life is great,
That old age is not come, nor winter bleak.
ETARRE
The year looks backward with half-wistful face
This autumn night; the air is soft with spring
And lulls the sense to a sweet repose.
So is it on the first warm eve of May
When earth, expectant of an unseen grace,
Awaits it knows not what, all awed and still,
And thinks to hear across the sleeping hills
The footsteps of divinity returned.
GAWAINE
And not in vain; for God, each Spring, descends
In guise unseen to shape the world anew
To plant desire in every fleshly form
And resurrect the world from winter sleep.
Meseems, to-night He is returned to earth
And with soft wand of vernal sorcery
Brought back the Spring, and in our sleeping souls
Awakened voices singing through the dark
Like birds beneath the stars, to fill the night
With rapt enchantment.
ETARRE
Mystical delight!
Awake, awake, O sleeping birds of song!
AWake within my heart, O silent birds,
And fill the night with music till the stars
Tremble in adoration! Have I lived and breathed
These many years, these sombre silent years,
Or was I numbered with the dreamless dead,
Encharnelled in a palace, deep entombed
In empty vault of daily thought and deed?
Like them that walk within a sleep wide-eyed
And deem themselves awake, so have I lived, --
Nay, so been dead, and deemd myself alive.
GAWAINE
Do you not feel a pulse of eager blood
Through every vein, striving with beat and throb
To rouse the broken armies of the spring,
And hear the stamping of the hoofs, the cries
Of mounted knights to battle riding down?
They are reclaiming to their empery
The autumn year, and winter's pagan horde
Falls back before them.
ETARRE
Not in earth and air
Alone they conquer, but in human mind
They set their banners and in human heart
Stir high their beacons.
GAWAINE
Yea, in thine and mine,
Held captive to them here beneath the stars.
ETARRE
The flames leap heavenward with growing beam
Of kindled passion. O mad heart, wild heart,
Why do you beat so fast, why leap and strive
Like a wild thing netted, caught within a snare
That leaves it free to struggle? O sweet heart,
Be still, be still!
GAWAINE
O sweeter lips, speak on;
Or better, speak no more; but unto mine
Make harmony of silence and desire.
[They kiss.]
[From the pavilions in the background is heard a voice singing.]
SONG
When bleak December bares the hills
And snowflakes curl in air,
When hoary January chills
Young hearts with old despair,
When February plucks the day
And plumes the stormy night,
When March winds prowl in quest of prey
And battle with the light,
By river marge and reedless lake
Love makes her weary moan,
"O April sun, awake, awake!"
She sings alone, alone.
O hearts of men, make penance due
When April draws anear,
For life is false, but love is true,
And Spring is here, is here!
GAWAINE
O singing voice, the year is old and grey,
Unto the tomb totters her shaking step.
September has from April stolen dress
And you by quick illusion are deceived.
ETARRE
One day, one night, one shift of moon and sun,
Each year are stolen from the hoard of Spring
And unto Autumn given. On that eve
All flowers, unknown to sleep-enchanted eyes,
Break into blossom from a withered stem,
The trees are clothed in leaf, the faded stars
Put on new splendour, and the drowsy earth
With glow-worm hangs each branch and dewy bower.
It is the year's farewell festivity
Ere love be quenched and winter cold return,
Ere bird fly southward under warmer skies
And fourfoot beast to sunless lair retire.
GAWAINE
But we unharmed through rainy nights and chill
Shall hear the storm about the towered walls,
And in security close-wrapped shall laugh
When winter's frosty fingers pierce and pry
At every stone and corner, and the wind
Cries like a beast unsheltered through the night.
Yea, thou and I, caught in each other's arms,
Shall dream of stormy battle overhead
When winter with the giants of the north
Sweeps down across the hills and smites the plain
With desolation, when above the dead
The whirling snow in burial descends,
When waters are bound captive in strong chains,
When wells are sealed, and rivers turned to stone.
And I will tell thee many a tale and strange
Of dark enchantment wrought in waking dreams,
Of magic lawns, and flowers that backward draw,
Of shields that burn in flame, and helms that raise
Quick serpents clutching the unwarded blow.
So shall we hold the icy fiend at scorn
And waken endless summer in our breast,
With love to sing to us, and love to clothe
Our souls with gladness and our hearts with peace.
ETARRE
How many times I love thee, whom three days
Have scarcely crowned, whom speech and look and thought
Have scarce revealed! And yet a thousand suns
Could with no lordlier radiance bind thy brows
Nor with more light illumine.
GAWAINE
Thou are dear
As pearl deep-hidden in the lightless sea
Which careless net a-search for other prey
By chance drags upward to th' astounded light.
One glance alone, one beam of shafted day,
The wretched fisher clutches priceless wealth
And needs no knowledge wrought of week and year
To teach his fortune. So art thou to me,
Revealed and perfect in an instant sight.
ETARRE
Hold me yet closer, let the living world
Sink from me like wild stars that seek the night
And downward vanish in the vast obscure.
Quench yonder gleams that hold the dark in power,
And ban yon moving shield of argent beam;
Veil moon and stars, and draw me to thy own.
GAWAINE
O best endeared and sweet belovèd form,
Thou art the earth's most precious heritage.
A thousand years, she fashioned in the dark
With labour and sad toil, and brought thee forth
To be her fairest marvel all unstained.
Thou art of summer nutured, light-enwrought,
Cradled in southern flame.
ETARRE
The silent years
In their dim fastness of forgotten days
With virgin toil unrecompensed and lone
Have fashioned me and brought me to thy lips.
GAWAINE
And now like shrouded mantles of the dawn
Soft falling from the shoulders of the sun,
They do reveal thee, girt and crowned with love,
Thine inmost self, for utmost worship meet.
ETARRE
They have deserted me, like startled birds
Rising from nook and deep recess of rock
And wheeling, wheeling higher overhead,
Till with a sudden impulse they depart
And leave the watcher on the silent shore
Alone and marvelling. So have they fled,
My years of childhood and of maiden thought,
My lonely years of growing womanhood,
And I am left alone with love and thee,
While at my feet the waters smite the shore,
Wave after wave, in-coming from the deep.
GAWAINE
Of that great time-swept ocean have no fear.
The future is a snare to lead the eye
Toward far horizons clouding the unknown.
It is the present which our feet must tread
And there our vision is the most unsheathed
And we with least illusion can behold.
Think not of years, but grasp the present day,
And adamantine make the fleeting phase,
Arrested and in memory's stone held fast,
Carved with rich wonder, traced with strange design.
ETARRE
Ah would that Time thus stayed his course, or clipped
The present hour and left it shorn of wings
To be our prisoner! For evermore
Should I so cling to thee, my lips upheld
For thy sweet ardour and enkindled mouth,
For ever so be clasped within thine arms,
And dure eternity in thine embrace.
GAWAINE
All things save this can might of love fulfil.
Love can of dew makes pearls and emeralds
And build a palace of a ruined moat,
From deepest forest charm the wingèd bird
To minstrelsy and hymeneal song,
And from the mountains draw the sullen wild
To serve in quick attendance at the feast.
With power of shadowed dreams and quickening thought
Love is endowed: she chains eternal things
To be her servant, binds th' unwilling moon,
And draws the silver-threaded stars which weave
The tapestries of heav'n. The golden sun,
Which like a shuttle moves across the sky
With strands alternate of the day and night,
Becomes her slave and lives but for her word.
For they that love are rulers of the earth
And in their hands the future ages lie.
[A nightingale sings close at hand.]
ETARRE
Did I not say this night was caught from Spring?
Hark April's nightingale who turns the dark
To music, and with radiant voice proclaims
That summer is not fled, nor autumn here.
To bed! to bed! sweet bird; with weary eyes
You'll see the dawn if he o'ertake you singing.
GAWAINE
And unto us that selfsame counsel turns
And bids us sleep. Good night, sweet love, good night.
ETARRE
Kiss me once more, till love be bared indeed
And I in sweet communion with thy thoughts
Be drawn into thy life and be a dream
Within thy mind, a pulse within thy heart. --
Kiss me once more, till life forsake his toil
Of mystic alchemy and hidden consonance
Of soul with body, till he break his glass
Wherein he visions that processional
Of generation unto generation matched,
That sequence of mankind and beast and bird
Which marks his handicraft: kiss me once more,
Until he merge my soul in deathless bond
To thine, and in eternal union join
Our mind and thought and will. -- Kiss me once more,
Till heav'n and earth be reft of all their veils
And robbed of their mysterious dark conceit,
Till I behold the circles of the sun
And see the pulsing of the day and night,
Hear time upon his anvil forge the stars,
And be at one with universal might. --
Kiss me once more, and shatter earth and sky
Hurl all to dissolution, and with stroke
Of vast desire still that gigantic heart
Whose beating is the living, moving world.
Leave me alone with thee, set round with night,
In universal dark of boundless space,
Alone, alone. -- Kiss me, and so good night!
[She rises and comes forward to the entrance of the
pavilion, where she stands gazing out.]
How silent treads the night, how soft and still,
With finger at her lips to hush each sound,
That none of those who bide beneath her care
Shall with uneasy dreams be stirred, and wake.
Sleep soft, ye woods and meadow-lands,
Ye silent leaves and sleeping flowers.
Pale primroses, and daisies, ye sweet eyes
With which the earth looks out on heaven,
Be still; all, all, be still.
Farewell, ye stars which overhead
Drift by with distant song.
Moon wide-eyed, watch well;
Watch well until the dawn.
[She lets fall the curtain across the entrance of the pavilion, thus shrouding GAWAINE and her-
self from sight. The moon has now risen high above the trees and bathes the stage in silver
light. A soft wind stirs the leaves. Their rustling is taken up and transformed to music,
-- at first scarcely audible, but gradually growing in intensity,-- representing the sounds
of a late summer night.]
[The music stills. PELLEAS and FERGUS emerge from the thicket on the right.]
PELLEAS
Stay still: no further move. Our question here
Shall find its answer.
FERGUS
Know you what this means?
PELLEAS
Rejoicing and festivity.
FERGUS
The rite
Of burial.
PELLEAS
What mean you?
FERGUS
That the dead
From battle ride not home. You are betrayed.
This is rejoicing for your death, festivity
To honour him who slew you. For she holds
That Gawaine with true victor's right and might
Carries your shield and helm. You are betrayed.
PELLEAS
Though mine own eyes beheld, I scarce should hold
That such a knight to such a vow were false.
'Tis Gawaine, born of Caerleon's royal blood,
Whom you, low-born, attaint. With deadly vow
He swore him faithful, and in utmost pledge
Bound life and body to fulfil my love.
These were his words upon my sword-hilt sworn:
"If I be found unfaithful, changeful, false,
May my bare throat feel this unsheathèd blade,
May I be cast for ever from the light!"
FERGUS
The vow is forfeit. Go! reclaim the oath.
They have no fear of you and set no guard.
Etarre believes you dead, and Gawaine laughs.
She shall remember that the dead arise
To wreak their vengeance. In these tents are hid
Sure proofs and testimony.
PELLEAS
There remain,
Within yon thicket hidden, till I come.
[FERGUS draws back out of sight. PELLEAS advances up the slope toward the central pavilion.]
PELLEAS
Is this the timid prey which ran to earth
Close harried, and like mole which dreads the light
Drew shut her portals? This is she who feared
My least approach, who with armed battlement
Greeted my coming and with moat unbridged
Bade welcome. These soft silks and drooping fanes
Point mockery, as though they scorned to hide
That which they cannot guard.
[He has approached the curtain of the pavilion.]
So comes the thief
At dead of night on foul endeavour bent,
So peers to left and right with fearing eye,
And so on tip-toe to his booty draws.
O watching powers of darkness and deceit,
Grant that I be the very thief and true,
And not myself the stolen-from, the robbed,
The injured one down-tracking to his lair
The plucking knave and claiming back his own!
[He raises the curtain and peers in. After a moment he suddenly starts back.]
O sight too horrible for mortal eyes,
Burning the eye-ball with a blackened scar
Of infamy and loathing! Oh, be blind,
Twice injured eyes. Look not again on light.
Clothe yourselves round with darkness, and forget
This fatal gift of seeing! O accursed,
O nest of shame breeding repugnant brood
Of broken oaths and false virginity!
Now is the scroll of knighthood ended; fame
Forsakes her ancient stronghold of renown.
The days of chivalry are past, and knights
With plea insidious of inviolate oath
Work treason and adultery. This was Etarre,
The maiden ivory in her chastity,
With eyes downcast for fear of shame; and now
Her lips are drawn apart with hungry sin
And like a serpent feast on evil fruit.
O night, how canst thou sleep so still? Up! Wake!
With hundred voices clamour at this deed,
And loose the hell-hounds of your winds and storms
To sweep into destruction's cloven pit
This treachery and crime! O bitterness of man,
To see his life down-trodden and the dust
Of wild despair heap charnel mounds and whirl
In mockery, while Heaven lifts no hand,
The oceans are unmoved, the river-floods
Within their channels tarry, wind and fire
Their ancient office elsewhere do perform,
And moon and star smile in serenity!
Forsaken, thrice forsaken, with his grief
Man wrings no pity. The great world is stone;
God holds himself aloof, cold, passionless,
Wrapt in designs of far eternities.
Spurning the race which shudders at his feet,
He fashions future kingdoms. Weak, alone,
From death unsheltered, bearing wounds and ill
In life upgathered, man cries out in vain
For judge of evil, champion 'gainst the wrong.
But I, though I be so forsaken, scorned of God,
Unheard of earth and Heaven, yet shall I
Fulfil my vengeance, with unaided hand,
And right the wrong and champion the true!
False Nature, cry farewell to children twain
Whom hast thou nurtured into infamy;
Thou canst not save them! here, against thy will,
I slay them, and in mockery of thee.
[Lifting the curtain of the pavilion with one hand, and with the other holding his drawn sword,
he enters and disappears from view. He re-emerges.]
And is it manhood so to halt and fail,
To hide the sword of vengeance in the sheath
Of pity? Thought and deed wage mutual war,
And deed is conquered; the weak thought prevails.
So let them sleep; I cannot slay them now. --
[He turns to go, but halts suddenly.]
What, let that injury to all my hopes
So slumber on, so let that shameless word
Sleep unavenged? --
Ah me, how still they lay!
Gawaine at peace, half god-like in his dreams,
And she like carven statue motionless,
Her lips half-smiling, her dark-lidded eyes
Soft closed, and one white hand against her breast
As though her lover still within her clasp
Lay sleeping. --
O deep misery accursed
To find Etarre at last, and find her so!
Am I by craft of wizardry encharmed
That all my thoughts are shades and fleshless dreams?
With maiden weakness here I stand and weep
As though I had no strength of hand, no sword
To bring me vengeance, and no warrior's will
To punish proved deceit and oath forsworn.
Unto my mercy's prayer I cast Etarre
For pittance, but my anger's deadly curse
Shall Gawaine take, and with the stroke of death
Drive out his soul from earthly dwelling place
And ban for ever from the living world.
[He re-enters the pavilion. After a little, he re-emerges.]
Sleep on, sleep on, I cannot slay you here.
On field of battle, waking and full-armed,
I'll slay you; but not here, not now, asleep,
Unarmed, defenceless. Though you traitor be,
Of knighthood's stroke unworthy, yet am I
A knight, and with that sacred oath am bound
To slay no sleeping man nor foe unarmed,
To battle with the sword and not, as they
Who slay their sheep for feasting, to approach
With sharpened knife the victim's helpless throat.
Not so in cowardice was knighthood framed,
Not so adorned for valour. Nay, sleep on.
You've wronged me more than thousand deaths could pay;
To take a single life so wretchedly
Were but a mockery of payment. Nay, sleep on,
And if your dreams affright you, be at ease;
For that grim shadow, standing at your bed
And with malign intent upon your life
Down-gazing, is departed and returns
No more to vex you. Ay, sleep on, sleep on.
[He proceeds down the slope. At the foot of the slope he is met by FERGUS.]
FERGUS
And was it other than I said?
PELLEAS
Full well
Your heart's malignity foretold me truth.
FERGUS
Gawaine is false?
PELLEAS
The night with darkling robe
No falser thing conceals.
FERGUS
Where are they hid?
PELLEAS
Yonder pavilion holds the twain as one.
FERGUS
Then have you slain them, meted that reward
Alone sufficient and well-earned?
PELLEAS
They live.
FERGUS
You had not power, not opportunity
To fall upon them; they were held in guard
Or otherway from you removed?
PELLEAS
Unwatched
Their couch, unarmed they sleep and lone.
FERGUS
And are not dead! Are you of honour reft,
Of resolution shorn, of anger void!
Unmoved you know yourself betrayed and spurned,
Laughed at and mocked, your prize of ten long years
Snatched from you in a day, and all your life
O'ercast with sorrow. Have you not a sword?
Do swords not slay? Alas, suspicion grows;
This is not Pelleas who held the field
Of armoured knights at nought! This is a shade,
And Pelleas by years of pining love
Is grown too frail for manhood, and too weak
For anger. Quick, take sword, and slay;
Set seal of blood on this foul testament.
Match deed to deed. Send me with hungry knife
And I will slay, and take the fault, the shame,
If you have found a fault in such a right,
A shame in such a work of injured honour.
PELLEAS
I cannot slay a sleeping knight, nor turn
The pointed sword against a woman's breast.
Let us depart this most unhallowed spot
Lest quick contagion which is here abroad
Should with its ill infect us.
FERGUS
Unavenged
You would depart, and leave no trace behind,
No proof of anger, no memorial
To that dishonourable union set,
As though you were the spirit of the wind
Across the moors, trailing nor track nor sign
To mark your presence? Shall they wake at dawn
And fill another day with wretched love,
And deem themselves secure and laugh at thought
Of Pelleas?
PELLEAS
Well said, a sign, a sign
That I am not a shadow, but a man,
A fleshly thing with mortal strength of arm,
A threat of punishment, a deadly fear
Unsilenced in their hearts.
FERGUS
Ay, still their hearts.
This is the sign I meant, the sign of death,
That all men may take knowledge to themselves
And learn what thing it is thus to forswear
All honour, and in treason to be false
To Pelleas. These two together slain
Shall be a history to all mankind,
A legend and a saying.
PELLEAS
Here remain
Yet once again until the deed be done.
I shall exact his oath.
[He ascends toward the pavilion.]
FERGUS
Praise be to Heaven!
The ancient valour is returned, to swell
High flood of vengeance and exact the oath.
How ran the words wherewith he pledged his life?
"May my bare throat feel this unsheathèd blade,
May I be cast for ever from the light!"
Then is he slain.
[PELLEAS enters the pavilion.]
And yet his temper burns
Like sudden sun upon an April day,
Hot for the moment but too soon o'ercast.
Let me go up and strengthen his resolve
Lest at the last he weaken.
[He moves toward the pavilion. PELLEAS comes out.]
Ah, returned,
So soon returned. He had not time to fail.
PELLEAS
It is fulfilled. Across his naked throat
My sword has gone.
FERGUS
And he is slain in truth!
PELLEAS
Slain? Nay, not slain, but sleeping as before.
So let them sleep until the morning comes
To waken them and they behold my sword
Across their breasts, close drawn beneath their throats,
A sign, in symbol of a broken oath.
Comes, let us go; the night draws on apace.
FERGUS
O idle hope to dream that he was dead,
By vengeance over taken! No! return;
Not so that oath was sworn, not such th' intent;
With death he bargained. Let him death receive.
PELLEAS
What I have done is with full purpose wrought.
Come, let us go; the night draws on apace.
[They disappear into the thicket. A cloud crosses the moon, and a sudden gust of wind shakes the trees.]
CURTAIN