Part 2

_Pr._ Thou say’st I am mad, and of my sober words Hast called those impious which thou fearest true, Those which thou knowest good, incredible. Consider ere thou judge: be first assured All is not good for man that seems god’s will. See, on thy farming skill, thy country toil 441 Which bends to aid the willing fruits of earth, And would promote the seasonable year, The face of nature is not always kind: And if thou search the sum of visible being To find thy blessing featured, ’tis not there: Her best gifts cannot brim the golden cup Of expectation which thine eager arms Lift to her mouthèd horn--what then is this Whose wide capacity outbids the scale 450 Of prodigal beauty, so that the seeing eye And hearing ear, retiring unamazed Within their quiet chambers, sit to feast With dear imagination, nor look forth As once they did upon the varying air? Whence is the fathering of this desire Which mocks at fated circumstance? nay though Obstruction lie as cumbrous as the mountains, Nor thy particular hap hath armed desire Against the brunt of evil,--yet not for this 460 Faints man’s desire: it is the unquenchable Original cause, the immortal breath of being: Nor is there any spirit on Earth astir, Nor ’neath the airy vault, nor yet beyond In any dweller in far-reaching space, Nobler or dearer than the spirit of man: That spirit which lives in each and will not die, That wooeth beauty, and for all good things Urgeth a voice, or in still passion sigheth, And where he loveth draweth the heart with him. Hast thou not heard him speaking oft and oft, Prompting thy secret musing and now shooting His feathered fancies, or in cloudy sleep 473 Piling his painted dreams? O hark to him! For else if folly shut his joyous strength To mope in her dark prison without praise, The hidden tears with which he wails his wrong Will sour the fount of life. O hark to him! Him mayst thou trust beyond the things thou seest. For many things there be upon this earth Unblest and fallen from beauty, to mislead Man’s mind, and in a shadow justify The evil thoughts and deeds that work his ill; Fear, hatred, lust and strife, which, if man question The heavenborn spirit within him, are not there. Yet are they bold of face, and Zeus himself, 486 Seeing that Mischief held her head on high, Lest she should go beyond his power to quell And draw the inevitable Fate that waits On utmost ill, himself preventing Fate Hasted to drown the world, and now would crush Thy little remnant: but among the gods 492 Is one whose love and courage stir for thee; Who being of manlike spirit, by many shifts Has stayed the hand of the enemy, who crieth Thy world is not destroyed, thy good shall live: Thou hast more power for good than Zeus for ill, More courage, justice, more abundant art, More love, more joy, more reason: though around thee Rank-rooting evil bloom with poisonous crown, Though wan and dolorous and crooked things 501 Have made their home with thee, thy good shall live. Know thy desire: and know that if thou seek it, And seek, and seek, and fear not, thou shalt find.

_Sem._ (_youths_). Is this a god that speaketh thus?

_Sem._ (_maidens_). He speaketh as a man In love or great affliction yields his soul.

_In._ Thou, whencesoe’er thou comest, whoe’er thou art, Who breakest on our solemn sacrifice With solemn words, I pray thee not depart Till thou hast told me more. This fire I seek 510 Not for myself, whose thin and silvery hair Tells that my toilsome age nears to its end, But for my children and the aftertime, For great the need thereof, wretched our state; Nay, set by what has been, our happiness Is very want, so that what now is not Is but the measure of what yet may be. And first are barest needs, which well I know Fire would supply, but I have hope beyond, That Nature in recovering her right 520 Would kinder prove to man who seeks to learn Her secrets and unfold the cause of life. So tell me, if thou knowest, what is fire? Doth earth contain it? or, since from the sun Fire reaches us, since in the glimmering stars And pallid moon, in lightning, and the glance Of tracking meteors that at nightfall show How in the air a thousand sightless things Travel, and ever on their windswift course Flame when they list and into darkness go,--530 Since in all these a fiery nature dwells, Is fire an airy essence, a thing of heaven, That, could we poise it, were an alien power To make our wisdom less, our wonder more?

_Pr._ Thy wish to know is good, and happy is he Who thus from chance and change has launched his mind To dwell for ever with undisturbèd truth. This high ambition doth not prompt his hand To crime, his right and pleasure are not wronged By folly of his fellows, nor his eye 540 Dimmed by the griefs that move the tears of men. Son of the earth, and citizen may be Of Argos or of Athens and her laws, But still the eternal nature, where he looks, O’errules him with the laws which laws obey, And in her heavenly city enrols his heart.

_In._ Thus ever have I held of happiness, The child of heavenly truth, and thus have found it In prayer and meditation and still thought, And thus my peace of mind based on a floor 550 That doth not quaver like the joys of sense: Those I possess enough in seeing my slaves And citizens enjoy, having myself Tasted for once and put their sweets away. But of that heavenly city, of which thou sayest Her laws o’errule us, have I little learnt, For when my wandering spirit hath dared alone The unearthly terror of her voiceless halls, She hath fallen from delight, and without guide Turned back, and from her errand fled for fear. 560

_Pr._ Think not that thou canst all things know, nor deem Such knowledge happiness: the all-knowing Fates No pleasure have, who sit eternally Spinning the unnumbered threads that Time hath woven, And weaves, upgathering in his furthest house To store from sight; but what ’tis joy to learn Or use to know, that may’st thou ask of right.

_In._ Then tell me, for thou knowest, what is fire?

_Pr._ Know then, O king, that this fair earth of men, The Olympus of the gods, and all the heavens Are lesser kingdoms of the boundless space 571 Wherein Fate rules; they have their several times, Their seasons and the limit of their thrones, And from the nature of eternal things Springing, themselves are changed; even as the trees Or birds or beasts of earth, which now arise To being, now in turn decay and die. The heaven and earth thou seest, for long were held By Fire, a raging power, to whom the Fates Decreed a slow diminishing old age, 580 But to his daughter, who is that gentle goddess, Queen of the clear and azure firmament, In heaven called Hygra, but by mortals Air, To her, the child of his slow doting years, Was given a beauteous youth, not long to outlast His life, but be the pride of his decay, And win to gentler sway his lost domains. And when the day of time arrived, when Air Took o’er from her decrepit sire the third Of the Sun’s kingdoms, the one-moonèd earth, Straight came she down to her inheritance. 591 Gaze on the sun with thine unshaded eye And shrink from what she saw. Forests of fire Whose waving trunks, sucking their fuel, reared In branched flame roaring, and their torrid shades Aye underlit with fire. The mountains lifted And fell and followed like a running sea, And from their swelling flanks spumed froth of fire; Or, like awakening monsters, mighty mounds Rose on the plain awhile.

_Sem._ (_maidens_). He discovers a foe. 600

_Sem._ (_youths_). An enemy he paints.

_Pr._ These all she quenched, Or charmed their fury into the dens and bowels Of earth to smoulder, there the vital heat To hold for her creation, which then--to her aid Summoning high Reason from his home in heaven,— She wrought anew upon the temperate lands.

_Sem._ (_maidens_). ’Twas well Air won this kingdom of her sire.

_Sem._ (_youths_). Now say how made she green this home of fire.

_Pr._ The waters first she brought, that in their streams And pools and seas innumerable things 610 Brought forth, from whence she drew the fertile seeds Of trees and plants, and last of footed life, That wandered forth, and roaming to and fro, The rejoicing earth peopled with living sound. Reason advised, and Reason praised her toil; Which when she had done she gave him thanks, and said, ‘Fair comrade, since thou praisest what is done, Grant me this favour ere thou part from me: Make thou one fair thing for me, which shall suit With what is made, and be the best of all.’ 620 ’Twas evening, and that night Reason made man.

_Sem._ (_maidens_). Children of Air are we, and live by fire.

_Sem._ (_youths_). The sons of Reason dwelling on the earth.

_Sem._ (_maidens_). Folk of a pleasant kingdom held between Fire’s reign of terror and the latter day When dying, soon in turn his child must die.

_Sem._ (_youths_). Having a wise creator, above time Or youth or change, from whom our kind inherit The grace and pleasure of the eternal gods.

_In._ But how came gods to rule this earth of Air?

_Pr._ They also were her children who first ruled, Cronos, Iapetus, Hypérion, 632 Theia and Rhea, and other mighty names That are but names--whom Zeus drave out from heaven, And with his tribe sits on their injured thrones.

_In._ There is no greater god in heaven than he.

_Pr._ Nor none more cruel nor more tyrannous.

_In._ But what can man against the power of god?

_Pr._ Doth not man strive with him? thyself dost pray.

_In._ That he may pardon our contrarious deeds.

_Pr._ Alas! alas! what more contrarious deed, What greater miracle of wrong than this, 642 That man should know his good and take it not? To what god wilt thou pray to pardon this? In vain was reason given, if man therewith Shame truth, and name it wisdom to cry down The unschooled promptings of his best desire. The beasts that have no speech nor argument Confute him, and the wild hog in the wood That feels his longing, hurries straight thereto, 650 And will not turn his head.

_In._ How mean’st thou this?

_Pr._ Thou hast desired the good, and now canst feel How hard it is to kill the heart’s desire.

_In._ Shall Inachus rise against Zeus, as he Rose against Cronos and made war in heaven?

_Pr._ I say not so, yet, if thou didst rebel, The tongue that counselled Zeus should counsel thee.

_Sem._ (_maidens_). This is strange counsel.

_Sem._ (_youths_). He is not A counsellor for gods or men.

_In._ O that I knew where I might counsel find, That one were sent, nay, were’t the least of all The myriad messengers of heaven, to me! 662 One that should say ’This morn I stood with Zeus, He hath heard thy prayer and sent me: ask a boon, What thing thou wilt, it shall be given thee.’

_Pr._ What wouldst thou say to such a messenger?

_In._ No need to ask then what I now might ask, How ’tis the gods, if they have care for mortals, Slubber our worst necessities--and the boon, No need to tell him that.

_Pr._ Now, king, thou seest Zeus sends no messenger, but I am here.

_In._ Thy speech is hard, and even thy kindest words Unkind. If fire thou hast, in thee ’tis kind To proffer it: but thou art more unkind Yoking heaven’s wrath therewith. Nay, and how knowest thou 675 Zeus will be angry if I take of it? Thou art a prophet: ay, but of the prophets Some have been taken in error, and honest time Has honoured many with forgetfulness. I’ll make this proof of thee; Show me thy fire-- Nay, give’t me now--if thou be true at all, Be true so far: for the rest there’s none will lose, Nor blame thee being false--where is thy fire?

_Pr._ O rather, had it thus been mine to give, I would have given it thus: not adding aught Of danger or diminishment or loss; 686 So strong is my goodwill; nor less than this My knowledge, but in knowledge all my power. Yet since wise guidance with a little means Can more than force unminded, I have skill To conjure evil and outcompass strength. Now give I thee my best, a little gift To work a world of wonder; ’tis thine own Of long desire, and with it I will give The cunning of invention and all arts 695 In which thy hand instructed may command, Interpret, comfort, or ennoble nature; With all provision that in wisdom is, And what prevention in foreknowledge lies.

_In._ Great is the gain.

_Pr._ O king, the gain is thine, The penalty I more than share.

_In._ Enough, I take thy gift; nor hast thou stood more firm To every point of thy strange chequered tale, Revealing, threatening, offering more and more, And never all, than I to this resolve. 705

_Pr._ I knew thy heart would fail not at the hour.

_In._ Nay, failed I now, what were my years of toil More than the endurance of a harnessed brute, Flogged to his daily work, that cannot view The high design to which his labour steps? And I of all men were dishonoured most Shrinking in fear, who never shrank from toil, And found abjuring, thrusting stiffly back, The very gift for which I stretched my hands. What though I suffer? are these wintry years Of growing desolation to be held 716 As cherishable as the suns of spring? Nay, only joyful can they be in seeing Long hopes accomplished, long desires fulfilled. And since thou hast touched ambition on the side Of nobleness, and stirred my proudest hope, And wilt fulfil this, shall I count the cost? Rather decay will triumph, and cold death Be lapped in glory, seeing strength arise 724 From weakness, from the tomb go forth a flame.

_Pr._ ’Tis well; thou art exalted now, the grace Becomes thy valiant spirit.

_In._ Lo! on this day Which hope despaired to see, hope manifests A vision bright as were the dreams of youth; When life was easy as a sleeper’s faith Who swims in the air and dances on the sea; When all the good that scarce by toil is won, Or not at all is won, is as a flower Growing in plenty to be plucked at will: Is it a dream again or is it truth, 735 This vision fair of Greece inhabited? A fairer sight than all fair Iris sees, Footing her airy arch of colours spun From Ida to Olympus, when she stays To look on Greece and thinks the sight is fair; Far fairer now, clothed with the works of men.

_Pr._ Ay, fairer far: for nature’s varied pleasaunce Without man’s life is but a desert wild, Which most, where most she mocks him, needs his aid. She knows her silence sweeter when it girds 745 His murmurous cities, her wide wasteful curves Larger beside his economic line; Or what can add a mystery to the dark, As doth his measured music when it moves With rhythmic sweetness through the void of night? Nay, all her loveliest places are but grounds Of vantage, where with geometric hand, True square and careful compass he may come To plan and plant and spread abroad his towers, His gardens, temples, palaces and tombs. 755 And yet not all thou seest, with trancèd eye Looking upon the beauty that shall be, The temple-crownèd heights, the wallèd towns, Farms and cool summer seats, nor the broad ways That bridge the rivers and subdue the mountains, Nor all that travels on them, pomp or war Or needful merchandise, nor all the sails Piloting over the wind-dappled blue Of the summer-soothed Ægean, to thy mind Can picture what shall be: these are the face And form of beauty, but her heart and life Shall they be who shall see it, born to shield A happier birthright with intrepid arms, To tread down tyranny and fashion forth A virgin wisdom to subdue the world, 770 To build for passion an eternal song, To shape her dreams in marble, and so sweet Their speech, that envious Time hearkening shall stay In fear to snatch, and hide his rugged hand. Now is the birthday of thy conquering youth, O man, and lo! thy priest and prophet stand Beside the altar and have blessed the day.

_In._ Ay, blessed be this day. Where is thy fire? Or is aught else to do, ere I may take?

_Pr._ This was my message, speak and there is fire.

_In._ There shall be fire. Await me here awhile. I go to acquaint my house, and bring them forth.

[_Exit._

_Chorus._

Hearken, O Argos, hearken! 783 There will be fire. And thou, O Earth, give ear! There will be fire.

_Sem._ (_maidens_). Who shall be sent to fetch this fire for the king?

_Sem._ (_youths_). Shall we put forth in boats to reap, And shall the waves for harvest yield The rootless flames that nimbly leap 790 Upon their ever-shifting field?

_Sem._ (_maidens_). Or we in olive-groves go shake And beat the fruiting sprays, till all The silv’ry glitter which they make Beneath into our baskets fall?

_Sem._ (_youths_). To bind in sheaves and bear away The white unshafted darts of day?

_Sem._ (_maidens_). And from the shadow one by one Pick up the playful oes of sun?

_Sem._ (_youths_). Or wouldst thou mine a passage deep Until the darksome fire is found, 801 Which prisoned long in seething sleep Vexes the caverns underground?

_Sem._ (_maidens_). Or bid us join our palms perchance, To cup the slant and chinkèd beam, Which mounting morn hath sent to dance Across our chamber while we dream?

_Sem._ (_youths_). Say whence and how shall we fetch this fire for the king? Our hope is impatient of vain debating.

_Sem._ (_maidens_). My heart is stirred at the name of 810 the wondrous thing, And trembles awaiting.

_ODE._

A coy inquisitive spirit, the spirit of wonder, Possesses the child in his cradle, when mortal things Are new, yet a varied surface and nothing under. It busies the mind on trifles and toys and brings Her grasp from nearer to further, from smaller to greater, And slowly teaches flight to her fledgeling wings.

Where’er she flutters and falls surprises await her: She soars, and beauty’s miracles open in sight, The flowers and trees and beasts of the earth; and later 820 The skies of day, the moon and the stars of night; ’Neath which she scarcely venturing goes demurely, With mystery clad, in the awe of depth and height.

O happy for still unconscious, for ah! how surely, How soon and surely will disenchantment come, When first to herself she boasts to walk securely, And drives the master spirit away from his home;

Seeing the marvellous things that make the morning Are marvels of every-day, familiar, and some Have lost with use, like earthly robes, their adorning, As earthly joys the charm of a first delight, 831 And some are fallen from awe to neglect and scorning; Until-- O tarry not long, dear needed sprite! Till thou, though uninvited, with fancy returnest To hallow beauty and make the dull heart bright: To inhabit again thy gladdened kingdom in earnest; Wherein-- from the smile of beauty afar forecasting The pleasure of god, thou livest at peace and yearnest With wonder everlasting.

SECOND PART

_Reenter from the palace_ INACHUS, _with_ ARGEIA _and_ IO.

_INACHUS._

That but a small and easy thing now seems, Which from my house when I came forth at noon A dream was and beyond the reach of man. ’Tis now a fancy of the will, a word, Liberty’s lightest prize. Yet still as one Who loiters on the threshold of delight, Delaying pleasure for the love of pleasure, I dally--Come, Argeia, and share my triumph! And set our daughter by thee; though her eyes Are young, there are no eyes this day so young As shall forget this day--while one thing more I ask of thee; this evil, will it light 851 On me or on my house or on mankind?

_Pr._ Scarce on mankind, O Inachus, for Zeus A second time failing will not again Measure his spite against their better fate. And now the terror, which awhile o’er Earth Its black wings spread, shall up to Heaven ascend And gnaw the tyrant’s heart: for there is whispered A word gone forth to scare the mighty gods; How one must soon be born, and born of men, 860 Who shall drive out their impious host from heaven, And from their skyey dwellings rule mankind In truth and love. So scarce on man will fall This evil, nay, nor on thyself, O king; Thy name shall live an honoured name in Greece.

_In._ Then on my house ’twill be. Know’st thou no more?

_Pr._ Know I no more? Ay, if my purpose fail ’Tis not for lack of knowing: if I suffer, ’Tis not that poisonous fear hath slurred her task, Or let brave resolution walk unarmed. 870 My ears are callous to the threats of Zeus, The direful penalties his oath hath laid On every good that I in heart and hand Am sworn to accomplish, and for all his threats, Lest their accomplishment should outrun mine, Am bound the more. Nay, nor his evil minions, Nor force, nor strength, shall bend me to his will.

_ARGEIA._

Alas, alas, what heavy words are these, That in the place of joy forbid your tongue, That cloud and change his face, while desperate sorrow 880 Sighs in his heart? I came to share a triumph: All is dismay and terror. What is this?

_In._ True, wife, I spake of triumph, and I told thee The winter-withering hope of my whole life Has flower’d to-day in amaranth: what the hope Thou knowest, who hast shared; but the condition I told thee not and thou hast heard: this prophet, Who comes to bring us fire, hath said that Zeus Wills not the gift he brings, and will be wroth With us that take it.