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Get on with it, take what you’ve got.
Who’s welcome here? I see we’re not! [Exeunt.]
FIRST GUARD. Why didn’t you give him a good clout
To shut him up? Insolent lout!
SECOND GUARD. I don’t know, but I’d got a scare
Somehow; they’re like two ghosts, that pair.
THIRD GUARD. My eyes went queer, all flickering
It was, I couldn’t see a thing!
FOURTH GUARD. What’s happening I can’t rightly say.
It’s been so sultry-hot all day,
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Stuffy and close, scary as well.
The one man stood, the next man fell.
We stumbled on and fought by luck:
An enemy died each time we struck.
You couldn’t see through that strange mist,
And your ears hummed and drummed and hissed.
So it went on, and we’re here now,
And we ourselves, we can’t tell how.
[THE EMPEROR enters with four princes* The GUARDS withdraw.]
THE EMPEROR. Well, be that as it may! The enemy has run Away into the plains, the battle has been won.
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Here stands the empty throne, and cluttered round it lies
Treasure that traitor stole, wrapped up in fineries.
By our own noble guards defended, we await
The nations’ envoys here, in our imperial state.
Good news comes from all sides: the Empire’s said to be
At peace again, and all swear fealty to me.
We did perhaps employ some trickery in these wars,
But in the end we fought only for our just cause.
Chance can help soldiers win their battles, as we know:
A meteor falls from heaven, or blood rains on the foe,
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Or rocky caves resound with dreadful symphony
Which lifts one’s spirits but confounds the enemy.
Our adversary fell, whom all will now deride;
The glorious victor thanks God who was on his side.
All join in this Te Deum, though no command was given;
A million voices sing their gratitude to Heaven.
Yet chiefly my own heart, I find, deserves high praise,
And to it now, for once, I turn my reverent gaze.
A young and lively prince wastes days from his life’s store,
But as the years go by, values each moment more.
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Therefore, to save my house, my court, my empire too,
I bind myself at once, four worthy lords, to you.
[To the first.]
Our army was well served, prince, by your dispositions;
Wise and heroic too your timely bold decisions.
Be active now in peace, as present time demands:
I place the Sword of State, Lord Marshal, in your hands.
THE IMPERIAL LORD MARSHAL. Your loyal troops, till now embroiled in civil strife,
At your frontiers shall yet defend your throne and life.
Then let the ancestral halls rejoice, our privilege be,
Amid a throng of guests, to feast your Majesty;
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And borne ahead of you or at your side, my Sword
Shall shine to honour you, great and all-conquering lord!
THE EMPEROR [to the second prince]
With charm and courtesy your courage is combined:
Be my High Chamberlain! A hard task, you will find,
To be the ruler of the whole domestic rout;
I am ill served by their perpetual falling out.
To please me and my court they’ve not yet learnt—but now
Let your honourable example teach them how.
THE HIGH CHAMBERLAIN. Favoured is he who serves your noble policy:
Help to the best, even to the least no injury;
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An undissembling calm, candour without deceit.
If you can read my heart, then my reward’s complete.
I see you, Sire—if my mind’s eye may be so bold—
Entering to that great feast: the golden bowl I hold,
I hold your rings, and you, upon that day of pleasure,
Refresh your hands; your look contents me in like measure.
THE EMPEROR. Though my new serious mood should banish festive thoughts,
I’ll think them none the less; there’s profit in such sports.
[To the third prince.]
You shall now be High Seneschal, to supervise
All our hunting-demesnes, farms, poultry yards; be wise
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And skilful to provide my choice of favourite fare,
In season month by month, furnished and cooked with care.
THE HIGH SENESCHAL. Now let strict fasting be my duty and my wish,
Till I have served you first, Sire, with some gladdening dish.
The cooks and I shall strive, as we prepare such cheer,
The season to advance, to bring the distant near.
Not to your taste the out-of-time, the exotic show:
You prefer wholesome simple nourishment, I know.
THE EMPEROR [to the fourth prince].
Since, my young valiant cousin, we are now concerned,
Only with feasting, as it seems: you must be turned
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Into an Imperial Cupbearer. Henceforth provide
Us with good wine now, see our cellars well supplied.
And yet be moderate yourself in celebration;
Resist the enticing opportunity’s temptation!
THE IMPERIAL CUPBEARER. Sire, if you will but trust it, even youth can grow
Into full manhood, and more quickly than you know.
I too can see myself at that great banquet: there
The imperial buffet I grace with vessels rare
Of gold and silver; yet I choose above the rest,
To offer to your lips, a goblet of the best
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Venetian crystal, in which sweet contentment waits,
For it improves the wine, yet not inebriates.
Some men might trust too far a cup so magical;
Your Majesty’s restraint protects us best of all.
THE EMPEROR. These honours I bestow on you you each have heard
Now solemnly announced by my imperial word,
Which you may trust, for it is mighty, and assures
All gifts; yet still they need the writing that endures,
Our noble signature. For this formality
The right man in good time approaches, as I see.
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[The HIGH CHANCELLOR ARCHBISHOP enters.]
THE EMPEROR. The last stone crowns the arch: a vaulted roof entrusting
Itself to such a key is built for everlasting.
You see four princes here: with them I have discussed
My household firstly, and my court, and how they must
Be governed. But the Empire as a whole, with all
Its weight and strength, now to your fivefold care must fall.
All five, outsplendouring others, shall be rich in lands:
Therefore I give to you the whole inheritance
Forfeit by all supporters of that reprobate;
And thus, my loyal friends, I enlarge now your estate
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With much fine land, which in due course you may augment
By purchase, by exchange, or such entitlement
As may arise. All feudal rights that here accrue
I also grant, without impediment, to you.
Your judgements shall be final, and against your high
Courts, your supreme tribunals, no appeal shall lie.
Rents, tithes and levies, tolls, safe conducts, these I join
To you, all salt and mining rights, the right to coin
Money likewise. For thus my gratitude I prove,
Setting you from my throne at onl
y one remove.
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THE HIGH CHANCELLOR. I render deepest thanks for all of us; for our
Advancement will increase your Majesty’s own power.
THE EMPEROR. The five of you shall have a higher privilege still.
While I yet live, I reign, and I live with a will:
But a long chain of forebears draws my thoughtful gaze
From present strivings back to troublous, threatening days.
I must leave you, my friends, later or earlier;
Your duty then’s to elect another emperor.
Crown him, and on the sacred altar raise him high;
Then peace shall reign, and all our storms will have passed by.
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THE HIGH CHANCELLOR. With our hearts full of pride and humbly bowed we stand,
Princes before your throne, the noblest in the land.
So long as loyal blood stirs in these veins, we still
Are but the body moved entirely by your will.
THE EMPEROR. Finally, what we here have hitherto enacted,
Let it be for all time in written form contracted.
All these Electoral lands, of course, though to be held
Freehold by you, are indivisibly entailed,
And must, increased or not, pass (so we stipulate)
By primogeniture in undiminished state.
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THE HIGH CHANCELLOR. This weighty statute shall to parchment be committed
And gladly for your sacred signature submitted;
I’ll charge my office with the engrossment, and the seal
Shall be affixed, for our and the whole Empire’s weal.
THE EMPEROR. So, my lords, take your leave! that each of you now may
Calmly and at his ease reflect on this great day.
[The temporal princes withdraw; the spiritual lord, remains, and speaks in solemn tones.]
THE ARCHBISHOP. The Chancellor has left, the Bishop lingers here,
Impelled to utter a grave warning in your ear,
Moved by concern for you, by fatherly distress!
THE EMPEROR. What so concerns you on this day of happiness?
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THE ARCHBISHOP. I see with bitter sorrow, in this very hour,
Your sacred Majesty enthralled to Satan’s power.
Your throne now seems assured, but by the means you used
The Holy Father’s mocked, God himself is abused.
When the Pope hears of it, a righteous doom will smash
Your sinful Empire by his sacred thunderflash.
He still recalls today how at your coronation
You pardoned, at the point of death, that vile magician.
Your crown’s first ray of grace fell on that cursed head;
How many souls in Christendom that deed misled!
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But strike your breast, and purge your guilty fortune’s blight
By rendering to Holy Church a moderate mite.
Up on that broad hillside, there where you pitched your tent,
Where evil spirits with your cause made covenant,
Where to the Devil you gave ear—there found and make
A holy priory, for your contrition’s sake.
Let it be set on those green slopes, which will provide
Rich pasture; give it woods and mountains far and wide;
Bright lakes well stocked with fish, numberless streams that pour
Down swiftly winding to the valley; furthermore
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The broad valley itself, its meadows, fields and dales.
All this shall be your penance, which for grace avails.
THE EMPEROR. My grievous fault alarms me, I am much distressed.
Measure the boundary yourself as you think best.
THE ARCHBISHOP. First: we must cleanse the site from such defilement, by
Rededicating it at once to the Most High.
Soon the great walls rise up before my inner gaze;
The choir, already built, gleams in the morning’s rays;
The growing structure spreads, a cruciform design;
The nave grows wide and high, the faithful hail this sign.
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See with what ardent joy they stream through the great gate,
As over hill and dale the bells’ first notes pulsate,
Pealing from lofty towers that strive into the sky;
Summoned to a new life, the penitents draw nigh!
And on the day—may it be soon!— of consecration,
Your presence, Sire, shall be our triumph’s consummation.
THE EMPEROR. May this great enterprise, this pious monument,
Glorify God, and purge the sin I now repent.
Enough! My soul’s relieved, my heart begins to lift.
THE ARCHBISHOP. As Chancellor I now need a formal deed of gift.
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THE EMPEROR. Draw up a formal paper, then, that will assign it
All to the Church; bring it to me, I’ll gladly sign it.
THE ARCHBISHOP [taking his leave, but turning round again at the door].
You will also assign the land’s whole revenues
To this development; its rents, tithes, levies, dues,
In perpetuity. Costs of proper maintenance
Are high, and there will be administrative expense.
Some gold, too, from your booty—that will expedite
The building work itself, on such a barren site.
I must mention likewise the transports we shall need
Of timber, lime, and slate and suchlike; those indeed
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Can be brought by the people—we shall preach, of course,
That blest are they who serve the Church with cart and horse.
[Exit.]
THE EMPEROR. This sin is very burdensome; I lent an ear
To those damned magic-men, and now they cost me dear.
THE ARCHBISHOP [returning again, with a deep bow].
Your pardon, Sire. That infamous man was granted land*
On the Empire’s coast: but he and it are cursed and banned
Unless you also grant us that land’s revenue,
Its rents, tithes and so forth, as further penance due.
THE EMPEROR [irritably].
But no such land exists, it’s still under the sea!
THE ARCHBISHOP. Our right suffices, time provides, we’ll wait and see.
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Meanwhile your word remains your bond, Sire, as we know.
[Exit.]
THE EMPEROR [alone].
Why not just sign away the whole Empire at one go!
ACT FIVE
17.OPEN COUNTRY
A WANDERER. There they are, so dark and strong,
Those old lindens, as before;
I have wandered for so long,
Now I find them here once more!
And the hut that sheltered me,
Tempest-tossed as I was then,
On the sand-dunes here I see:
This is the same place again!
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And my hosts? That fine old couple
Rescued me with ready will:
They were pious gentle people—
Can I hope to find them still?
They were old at our first meeting.
Shall I knock or call?—My greeting
To you, if the gods still bless
You with your life of kindliness!
BAUCIS* (a very old little woman).
Stranger dear, speak softly please,
Softly! My old husband, he’s
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Resting still. He needs the length
Of his nights, for short days’ strength.
THE WANDERER. Dear old woman, is it true,
Can I still be thanking you
For my young life you and he
Long ago saved from the sea?
Baucis! You, who when death coldly
Kissed
me, warmed my freezing blood?
[The husband enters.]
You, Philemon, who so boldly
Snatched my treasure from the flood?
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Yours the hospitable fire,
Yours the bell with silver tone,
You, my rescuers from dire
Peril, you my help alone!
Now, to ease my heart’s emotion,
I must look upon this shore;
I must kneel and pray once more,
Gazing on the boundless ocean.
[He steps forward across the sand-dune.]
PHILEMON [to BAUCIS].
Quickly now, let’s lay the table
Here among the flowers and trees.
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Let him go; he’ll stare, unable
To believe the change he sees.
[Standing by THE WANDERER.]
Look! Your enemies of old,
The fierce foaming waves, have been
Turned into a park; behold
Now this paradisal scene!
I was not young enough to lend
My helping hands to this endeavour;
Soon my strength was at an end;
The sea was further off than ever.
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Those wise lords, they sent bold slaves:
Dams and dikes built in a day
Stole the birthright of the waves
And usurped the ocean’s sway.
Now green fields and gardens lie,
Woods and villages have grown
Up all round. But come, the sun
Will be setting by and by,
Let us eat. Those distant white
Sails seek haven for the night;
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Now like nesting birds they know
Here’s a port where they can go.
Thus it is; you must look far
Now to find the sea’s blue shore,
For dense between, on wide new land,
New human habitations stand.
[The three sit at table in the little garden.]
BAUCIS. You are silent? And no food
Has refreshed you, stranger dear?
PHILEMON. Tell him about the wonders; you’d
Like to talk, he’d like to hear.
BAUCIS. Yes, the wonders. I’m still worried
By strange doings we have seen.
Things unnaturally hurried;
Things not as they should have been.
PHILEMON. Can the Emperor sin? He named him
Feudal lord of all the coast;
Even a herald, marching past
With his trumpet-call, proclaimed him.
It began here near the dune,
That first foothold on the flood;
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There were tents and huts. But soon
In green fields a palace stood.
BAUCIS. Slaves toiled vainly: blow by blow,
Pick and shovel made no way.