As rocks the bough from which a bird takes wing.
V.
The House of Epimetheus
EPIMETHEUS.
Beautiful apparition! go not hence!
Surely thou art a Goddess, for thy voice
Is a celestial melody, and thy form
Self-poised as if it floated on the air!
PANDORA.
No Goddess am I, nor of heavenly birth, 5
But a mere woman fashioned out of clay
And mortal as the rest.
EPIMETHEUS.
Thy face is fair;
There is a wonder in thine azure eyes
That fascinates me. Thy whole presence seems
A soft desire, a breathing thought of love. 10
Say, would thy star like Merope’s grow dim
If thou shouldst wed beneath thee?
PANDORA.
Ask me not;
I cannot answer thee. I only know
The Gods have sent me hither.
EPIMETHEUS.
I believe,
And thus believing am most fortunate. 15
It was not Hermes led thee here, but Eros,
And swifter than his arrows were thine eyes
In wounding me. There was no moment’s space
Between my seeing thee and loving thee.
Oh, what a telltale face thou hast! Again 20
I see the wonder in thy tender eyes.
PANDORA.
They do but answer to the love in thine,
Yet secretly I wonder thou shouldst love me.
Thou knowest me not.
EPIMETHEUS.
Perhaps I know thee better
Than had I known thee longer. Yet it seems 25
That I have always known thee, and but now
Have found thee. Ah, I have been waiting long.
PANDORA.
How beautiful is this house! The atmosphere
Breathes rest and comfort, and the many chambers
Seem full of welcomes.
EPIMETHEUS.
They not only seem, 30
But truly are. This dwelling and its master
Belong to thee.
PANDORA.
Here let me stay forever!
There is a spell upon me.
EPIMETHEUS.
Thou thyself
Art the enchantress, and I feel thy power
Envelop me, and wrap my soul and sense 35
In an Elysian dream.
PANDORA.
Oh, let me stay.
How beautiful are all things round about me,
Multiplied by the mirrors on the walls!
What treasures hast thou here! Yon oaken chest,
Carven with figures and embossed with gold, 40
Is wonderful to look upon! What choice
And precious things dost thou keep hidden in it?
EPIMETHEUS.
I know not. ‘T is a mystery.
PANDORA.
Hast thou never
Lifted the lid?
EPIMETHEUS.
The oracle forbids.
Safely concealed there from all mortal eyes 45
Forever sleeps the secret of the Gods.
Seek not to know what they have hidden from thee,
Till they themselves reveal it.
PANDORA.
As thou wilt.
EPIMETHEUS.
Let us go forth from this mysterious place.
The garden walks are pleasant at this hour; 50
The nightingales among the sheltering boughs
Of populous and many-nested trees
Shall teach me how to woo thee, and shall tell me
By what resistless charms or incantations
They won their mates.
PANDORA.
Thou dost not need a teacher.
They go out. 55
CHORUS OF THE EUMENIDES.
What the Immortals
Confide to thy keeping,
Tell unto no man;
Waking or sleeping,
Closed be thy portals 60
To friend as to foeman.
Silence conceals it;
The word that is spoken
Betrays and reveals it;
By breath or by token 65
The charm may be broken.
With shafts of their splendors
The Gods unforgiving
Pursue the offenders,
The dead and the living! 70
Fortune forsakes them,
Nor earth shall abide them,
Nor Tartarus hide them;
Swift wrath overtakes them.
With useless endeavor, 75
Forever, forever,
Is Sisyphus rolling
His stone up the mountain!
Immersed in the fountain,
Tantalus tastes not 80
The water that wastes not!
Through ages increasing
The pangs that afflict him,
With motion unceasing
The wheel of Ixion 85
Shall torture its victim!
VI.
In the Garden
EPIMETHEUS.
YON snow-white cloud that sails sublime in ether
Is but the sovereign Zeus, who like a swan
Flies to fair-ankled Leda!
PANDORA.
Or perchance
Ixion’s cloud, the shadowy shape of Hera,
That bore the Centaurs.
EPIMETHEUS.
The divine and human. 5
CHORUS OF BIRDS.
Gently swaying to and fro,
Rocked by all the winds that blow,
Bright with sunshine from above,
Dark with shadow from below,
Beak to beak and breast to breast 10
In the cradle of their nest,
Lie the fledglings of our love.
ECHO.
Love! love!
EPIMETHEUS.
Hark! listen! Hear how sweetly overhead
The feathered flute-players pipe their songs of love,
And Echo answers, love and only love. 15
CHORUS OF BIRDS.
Every flutter of the wing,
Every note of song we sing,
Every murmur, every tone,
Is of love and love alone.
ECHO.
Love alone!
EPIMETHEUS.
Who would not love, if loving she might be 20
Changed like Callisto to a star in heaven?
PANDORA.
Ah, who would love, if loving she might be
Like Semele consumed and burnt to ashes?
EPIMETHEUS.
Whence knowest thou these stories?
PANDORA.
Hermes taught me;
He told me all the history of the Gods. 25
CHORUS OF REEDS.
Evermore a sound shall be
In the reeds of Arcady,
Evermore a low lament
Of unrest and discontent,
As the story is retold 30
Of the nymph so coy and cold,
Who with frightened feet outran
The pursuing steps of Pan.
EPIMETHEUS.
The pipe of Pan out of these reeds is made,
And when he plays upon it to the shepherds 35
They pity him, so mournful is the sound.
Be thou not coy and cold as Syrinx was.
PANDORA.
Nor thou as Pan be rude and mannerless.
PROMETHEUS (without).
Ho! Epimetheus!
EPIMETHEUS.
‘T is my brother’s voice;
A sound unwelcome and inopportune 40
As was the braying of Silenus’ ass,
Once heard in Cybele’s garden.
PANDORA.
Let me go.
I would not be found here. I would not see him.
She escapes among the trees.
CHORUS OF DRYADES.
Haste and hide thee,
Ere too late, 45
In these thickets intricate;
Lest Prometheus
See and chide thee,
Lest some hurt
Or harm betide thee, 50
Haste and hide thee!
PROMETHEUS (entering).
Who was it fled from here? I saw a shape
Flitting among the trees.
EPIMETHEUS.
It was Pandora.
PROMETHEUS.
O Epimetheus! Is it then in vain
That I have warned thee? Let me now implore. 55
Thou harborest in thy house a dangerous guest.
EPIMETHEUS.
Whom the Gods love they honor with such guests.
PROMETHEUS.
Whom the Gods would destroy they first make mad.
EPIMETHEUS.
Shall I refuse the gifts they send to me?
PROMETHEUS.
Reject all gifts that come from higher powers. 60
EPIMETHEUS.
Such gifts as this are not to be rejected.
PROMETHEUS.
Make not thyself the slave of any woman.
EPIMETHEUS.
Make not thyself the judge of any man.
PROMETHEUS.
I judge thee not; for thou art more than man;
Thou art descended from Titanic race, 65
And hast a Titan’s strength and faculties
That make thee godlike; and thou sittest here
Like Heracles spinning Omphale’s flax,
And beaten with her sandals.
EPIMETHEUS.
O my brother!
Thou drivest me to madness with thy taunts. 70
PROMETHEUS.
And me thou drivest to madness with thy follies.
Come with me to my tower on Caucasus:
See there my forges in the roaring caverns,
Beneficent to man, and taste the joy
That springs from labor. Read with me the stars, 75
And learn the virtues that lie hidden in plants,
And all things that are useful.
EPIMETHEUS.
O my brother!
I am not as thou art. Thou dost inherit
Our father’s strength, and I our mother’s weakness:
The softness of the Oceanides, 80
The yielding nature that cannot resist.
PROMETHEUS.
Because thou wilt not.
EPIMETHEUS.
Nay; because I cannot.
PROMETHEUS.
Assert thyself; rise up to thy full height;
Shake from thy soul these dreams effeminate,
These passions born of indolence and ease. 85
Resolve, and thou art free. But breathe the air
Of mountains, and their unapproachable summits
Will lift thee to the level of themselves.
EPIMETHEUS.
The roar of forests and of waterfalls,
The rushing of a mighty wind, with loud 90
And undistinguishable voices calling,
Are in my ear!
PROMETHEUS.
Oh, listen and obey.
EPIMETHEUS.
Thou leadest me as a child. I follow thee.
They go out.
CHORUS OF OREADES.
Centuries old are the mountains;
Their foreheads wrinkled and rifted 95
Helios crowns by day,
Pallid Selene by night;
From their bosoms uptossed
The snows are driven and drifted,
Like Tithonus’ beard 100
Streaming dishevelled and white.
Thunder and tempest of wind
Their trumpets blow in the vastness;
Phantoms of mist and rain,
Cloud and the shadow of cloud, 105
Pass and repass by the gates
Of their inaccessible fastness;
Ever unmoved they stand,
Solemn, eternal, and proud.
VOICES OF THE WATERS.
Flooded by rain and snow 110
In their inexhaustible sources,
Swollen by affluent streams
Hurrying onward and hurled
Headlong over the crags,
The impetuous water-courses 115
Rush and roar and plunge
Down to the nethermost world.
Say, have the solid rocks
Into streams of silver been melted,
Flowing over the plains, 120
Spreading to lakes in the fields?
Or have the mountains, the giants,
The ice-helmed, the forest-belted,
Scattered their arms abroad;
Flung in the meadows their shields? 125
VOICES OF THE WINDS.
High on their turreted cliffs
That bolts of thunder have shattered,
Storm-winds muster and blow
Trumpets of terrible breath;
Then from the gateways rush, 130
And before them routed and scattered
Sullen the cloud-rack flies,
Pale with the pallor of death.
Onward the hurricane rides,
And flee for shelter the shepherds; 135
White are the frightened leaves,
Harvests with terror are white;
Panic seizes the herds,
And even the lions and leopards,
Prowling no longer for prey, 140
Crouch in their caverns with fright.
VOICES OF THE FORESTS.
Guarding the mountains around
Majestic the forests are standing,
Bright are their crested helms,
Dark is their armor of leaves; 145
Filled with the breath of freedom
Each bosom subsiding, expanding,
Now like the ocean sinks,
Now like the ocean upheaves.
Planted firm on the rock, 150
With foreheads stern and defiant,
Loud they shout to the winds,
Loud to the tempest they call;
Naught but Olympian thunders,
That blasted Titan and Giant, 155
Them can uproot and o’erthrow,
Shaking the earth with their fall.
CHORUS OF OREADES.
These are the Voices Three
Of winds and forests and fountains,
Voices of earth and of air, 160
Murmur and rushing of streams,
Making together one sound,
The mysterious voice of the mountains,
Waking the sluggard that sleeps,
Waking the dreamer of dreams. 165
These are the Voices Three,
That speak of endless endeavor,
Speak of endurance and strength,
Triumph and fulness of fame,
Sounding about the world, 170
An inspiration forever,
Stirring the hearts of men,
Shaping their end and their aim.
VII.
The House of Epimetheus
PANDORA.
LEFT to myself I wander as I will,
And as my fancy leads me, through this house,
Nor could I ask a dwelling more complete
Were I indeed the Goddess that he deems me.
No mansion of Olympus, framed to be 5
The habitation of the Immortal Gods,
Can be more beautiful. And this is mine,
And more than this, the love wherewith he crowns me.
As if impelled by powers invisible
And irresistible, my steps return 10
Unto this spacious hall. All corridors
And passages lead hither, and all doors
But open into it. Yon mysterious chest
Attracts and fascinates me. Would I knew
What there lies hidden! But the oracle 15
Forbids. Ah me! The secret then is safe.
So would it be if it were
in my keeping.
A crowd of shadowy faces from the mirrors
That line these walls are watching me. I dare not
Lift up the lid. A hundred times the act 20
Would be repeated, and the secret seen
By twice a hundred incorporeal eyes.
She walks to the other side of the hall.
My feet are weary, wandering to and fro,
My eyes with seeing and my heart with waiting.
I will lie here and rest till he returns, 25
Who is my dawn, my day, my Helios.
Throws herself upon a couch, and falls asleep.
ZEPHYRUS.
Come from thy caverns dark and deep,
O son of Erebus and Night;
All sense of hearing and of sight
Enfold in the serene delight 30
And quietude of sleep!
Set all thy silent sentinels
To bar and guard the Ivory Gate,
And keep the evil dreams of fate
And falsehood and infernal hate 35
Imprisoned in their cells.
But open wide the Gate of Horn,
Whence, beautiful as planets, rise
The dreams of truth, with starry eyes,
And all the wondrous prophecies 40
And visions of the morn.
CHORUS OF DREAMS FROM THE IVORY GATE.
Ye sentinels of sleep,
It is in vain ye keep
Your drowsy watch before the Ivory Gate;
Though closed the portal seems, 45
The airy feet of dreams
Ye cannot thus in walls incarcerate.
We phantoms are and dreams
Born by Tartarean streams,
As ministers of the infernal powers; 50
O son of Erebus
And Night, behold! we thus
Elude your watchful warders on the towers!
From gloomy Tartarus
The Fates have summoned us 55
To whisper in her ear, who lies asleep,
A tale to fan the fire
Of her insane desire
To know a secret that the Gods would keep.
This passion, in their ire, 60
The Gods themselves inspire,
To vex mankind with evils manifold,
So that disease and pain
O’er the whole earth may reign,
Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Delphi Poets Series Book 13) Page 74
