by Steve Moore
She too disdains the frolicking of Gods;
Perhaps to her you should confide your woe?
SELENE:
No more than Artemis who romps with bears!
The one my ear with homely wisdom dulls,
With hunting tales the other offends me!
Words spring out from their supple tongues in hordes,
Each loose-lipp’d as the other! Fie on them!
A housewife and a bloody butcher-maid!
No wonder that the Gods will seek them not!
No time to kiss—their lips are fully used!
But none of these protective faults have I
And so I am pursued, my favours begg’d.
’Tis Aphrodite they should gaze upon.
To her, such glances never go amiss.
AURORA:
Sweet Lady, you distress yourself with this.
Think not on it, but rather turn your mind
To pleasures tried and true. May not the stars
Be pluck’d and set into a sparkling crown?
The tails of comets wove into a scarf
That trails all sequinated through the sky?
SELENE:
Enough! Such simple pastimes also cloy.
AURORA:
Then let these silver rowers catch your eye,
That old Hephaestos did himself well forge
When this fair barge he made. See now the gleam
Of silv’ry muscles, all twelve pulling strong,
Superbly tim’d in silent rhythm swift…
SELENE:
What use are such as they? They have no mind,
No voice, no life; they feel as much as stone!
I’d conjure them to stop if I but could!
Our height, however… that I can command.
So tell them now, Aurora, to descend.
We’ll skim the mountain peaks and close survey
The world of peaceful sleep and dreaming men.
AURORA:
No word of mine is needed here! E’en now
We drift down slowly from the starry sky…
SCENE TWO: A windowed gallery in the Carian villa occupied
by Endymion, Prince of Elis. Night. Enter ENDYMION, solo.
ENDYMION:
My Soothsayer! Does sleep o’erwhelm you? Come!
It is your lord commands your presence here!
[Enter PERSES, painter, running]
PERSES:
What ails thee, Highness? But a half-hour since
You were abed, your eyes quite clos’d, asleep.
How comes it now I find you shouting here?
ENDYMION:
’Twas Apollonius I call’d, not you.
Confound it, Perses, where’s my soothsayer?
PERSES:
He comes, my lord Endymion. Be at peace.
[Enter APOLLONIUS, the soothsayer. PERSES to him]
PERSES:
Our lord is raptur’d once again, I think,
As oft he’s been since we from Elis sail’d!
Speak soft with him, old man, and soothe him well!
APOLLONIUS:
If possible at all, I shall so speak.
But I can only tell him honestly
What heaven’s portents do indeed foretell.
The soothing you must do, with rhyme and sketch,
As many times before. My art is sooth,
Not soothing; your fair talent is for that!
Fetch charcoal, linen, whate’er you may need
For swift performance of your wondrous art,
And him I’ll gentle meanwhile.
[Exit PERSES]
APOLLONIUS [Aside]:
Wretched Prince!
How pale your face, how languorous your form!
Your temples hung about with darkling clouds,
Most certain signs of some impending woe.
This stately villa will not echo long
With your sad sighs and moanings dolorous.
It will be winter soon; I doubt it much,
Alas, that spring will find you living still.
But all is with the Gods. I’ll speak to you.
[Re-enter PERSES]
APOLLONIUS:
My Lord, your servant, bent-back’d already,
Bows deeper still! And also, Perses comes…
ENDYMION:
Who sent for Perses? Still, it matters not.
You may stand by and listen to our words.
My sleep is visited with dreams, old man,
And you will tell your Prince their true import.
APOLLONIUS:
No other words these lips will speak, my Lord.
But tell me first, why gaze so fixedly
Upon the full-orb’d Moon that nestles still
Among the woody growth of Latmos Hill?
ENDYMION:
Because my vision’s subject was herself,
O ancient one! Be patient, for you’ll hear
Each little detail. All, from start to close.
APOLLONIUS:
Do this, my Lord, omitting not one word.
ENDYMION:
You know I lay me down to sleep at dusk,
O’erwhelm’d by a delicious drowsiness.
Yet as I clos’d my eyes the Moon appear’d,
More brightly glowing than that vision fair
Which hugs the hills e’en now. The shining whelm’d,
’Came blinding and, before my eyes, dissolv’d
In glinting curtains, sparkling fiery pure,
That faded fast away in vacant air.
I saw ahead a sea all flashing stars
And I like wing-foot Hermes cross’d the swell
In flight, it seem’d, toward a silv’ry barge
Which rode the gentle waves, oars plashing soft.
And there Selene I beheld, most sweet…
APOLLONIUS [Aside]:
I like this not, good Perses! Not at all!
PERSES [Aside]:
Nor I, for she hath wander’d through his dreams
Too many times, though always veil’d in mist
Or passing half-seen through a ruck of clouds…
ENDYMION:
Such dazzling beauty is not often seen
By mortal men, I know; and yet I gaz’d
And saw the fairest face that ever grac’d
The lovely form of womankind…
[Pause]
APOLLONIUS:
Speak on,
Good Prince, ere rapture draws you more away…
ENDYMION:
I hover’d, calling, but she heard me not.
‘O fair Selene, Lady of my heart!’
And other such endearments pass’d my lips,
To no avail. Her lovely ears were clos’d
To every word I spoke. I watch’d her still,
And then a hand-maid suddenly appear’d.
She had a crystal tray on which she bore
A bunch of grapes to quench her lady’s thirst.
And when the Goddess rais’d them to her lips…
Those fruits, I swear, I could have picked at home.
APOLLONIUS [Aside]:
At home in Elis? No, I like this not…
APOLLONIUS:
How many grapes did this bunch then contain?
ENDYMION:
Some fifty perhaps, I know not. My eyes
Were fully fix’d upon those redd’ning lips
Instead of that which painted them that hue.
And juicy were those grapes; she suck’d them dry.
APOLLONIUS:
How many so?
ENDYMION:
Why, all of them!
APOLLONIUS [Aside]:
Alas!
ENDYMION:
Then lips full scarlet like a blossom wild,
She stood, and bade the rowers cease their toil.
The barge, becalm’d, then drifted; while the sea,
Already still, grew mirror-like and show’d
A fair ref
lection of her lovely form.
And sweet Selene, stripping off her dress,
All naked slipp’d into a silv’ry sea.
APOLLONIUS:
You saw all this, my Lord?
ENDYMION:
I did indeed,
And saw the ripples that her frolics made
All sparkling bright amid the ocean’s glow
As like a dolphin pale she cut a wave.
Then close I swoop’d; her beauty nothing hid…
A grace unknown in this sub-lunar world,
For all Earth’s maidens fair beneath her stand.
And when her small hand beckon’d, I plung’d steep,
And lost all sense in darkness submarine,
Swift sinking down, and down, and down…
PERSES [Aside]:
To drown…
ENDYMION:
I woke, and found myself abed, alone,
And utterly despairing. Tell me now,
Good Apollonius, what you make of this.
APOLLONIUS:
I trust you will allow a moment, Lord,
As I must contemplate each item here.
[APOLLONIUS & PERSES withdraw to one side]
APOLLONIUS:
I fear this vision, Perses, bodes not well.
PERSES:
But why? ’Tis said to dream of Gods brings luck!
APOLLONIUS:
Of Gods, perhaps; of Goddesses not so.
To view their naked beauty utter sin!
Lewd Actæon was torn apart for such,
And Cadmeian Teiresias grew blind!
The vine of Elis… this must be our Prince.
The fifty grapes… the store of years he hath.
The juice suck’d out… their fullness drain’d away.
The years his due, like morning dew itself;
And just as dew turns vaporous at dawn
I fear his life by sunrise will be spent.
Alas, the dream’s dark ending does confirm…
PERSES:
By Zeus, you cannot tell him that, old man!
APOLLONIUS:
This life of mine is led by honest stars
And so I can do naught but speak the truth.
If these plain words should cut my thread of fate,
We’ll meet again beneath the Earth as shades.
PERSES:
Now, wait! Err only thus if you’d not lie:
A little truth with much forbearance mix,
Revealing nothing of his coming end.
And should the present night turn out his last,
At least he’ll pass it all in merriment!
APOLLONIUS:
So be it then. But I’ll not stay to watch
Infernal Hades snatch his soul away.
If you can bear, till overwhelming sleep
Strikes gently at you both, amuse him well;
See him to bed, and know a blameless dawn.
ENDYMION:
Good Apollonius, speak! What means this dream?
APOLLONIUS:
It means your present troubles soon will end,
My Prince. A true dream, surely, much disguis’d.
The outcome fated, such is heaven’s will.
ENDYMION:
Just this? Explain the more, or I’ll grow wroth!
APOLLONIUS:
I… cannot…
ENDYMION:
Fie! You mean you dare not, man!
Come, out with it! I’ll know it, good or bad!
APOLLONIUS:
My Prince, pray do not question me on this!
ENDYMION:
I will, in truth, have truth from servant’s lips!
You are commanded! Speak!
APOLLONIUS:
As you so wish.
My poor doom’d Prince, I cannot lie to you.
This dream is evil and your life is short.
ENDYMION:
What blasphemy is this? It cannot be
That visions fair and sweet as this bode ill!
You jest, old man, but jokes become you not!
On pain of death make quips no more, old wretch!
APOLLONIUS:
My life is yours, my Prince, as is my love;
And knowing this, you’ll know I would not jest!
ENDYMION:
This cannot be believ’d! You are mistook!
What use is wrong divining? Get thee hence!
Away with you, old fool! I’ll listen not
To dotards’ rambling errors! Now, begone!
And should bright dawn still find you ’neath this roof,
I’ll have you strung!
APOLLONIUS:
So be it, Lord. Farewell!
I lov’d you much, but cannot bear this ire.
To Athens I’ll go; you, I fear, to death…
PERSES [to APOLLONIUS]:
A fine night’s work is this, my aged friend!
How swiftly does your ancient brain forget
Wise counsel. There’s no setting this right now!
APOLLONIUS:
What matter? This is but unfurling fate
And nothing can be done. All’s lost with him.
I’ve spoken true and yet his ear is deaf.
Alas, divining ever was like this:
For good words welcome, but for ill words rue!
So farewell, Perses! Loyal be, and true!
[Exit APOLLONIUS. PERSES to ENDYMION]
PERSES:
My Lord, I think this harsh dismissal wrong,
Although I know I risk much saying this.
ENDYMION:
Who’s this? Oh, Perses, it is you, my friend.
I had forgot that you were still at hand;
So brightly does the Moon attract my gaze.
I think I almost see her once again,
She was so fair…
PERSES [Aside]:
Alas, unworldly Prince…
ENDYMION:
What brings you here, good Perses? Did I call?
PERSES:
You call’d… at random, Lord, and so I came.
Yet being here, mayhap I can you serve
With my unrhythmic rhymes and sketchings poor.
ENDYMION:
A sketch? Why, yes! I’ll have that Goddess sweet
On whose fair form I raptly gaz’d in dream.
Draw beautiful Selene if you can…
PERSES:
I hardly dare to, but at your command
Will try my best. Describe her as you saw…
ENDYMION:
Too coarse are words, alas, for such a task.
Image the fairest woman ever seen,
Then elevate her to a form divine;
Still raise her, till fair Aphrodite seems
No more entrancing than a milking maid…
PERSES:
More subtle be, my Prince, lest you incur
That much-adored lady’s vengeful wrath!
Choose words precise and simple terms: her hair,
Her form, her face, her raiment’s cut and cloth…
ENDYMION:
Not tall, yet shapely: pale her so-smooth skin.
Her flowing hair, loose-tumbling, dark about
Her shoulders, framing her pert smiling face;
Fair-cheek’d, sweet-lipp’d, soft brown her star-bright eyes.
[PERSES draws]
Her dress was like an Attic girl’s, and yet
Of dazzling cloth with pearly gleaming hue,
Loose-gather’d with a girdle crystalline
That star-like flash’d upon her rounded hip;
About her neck, pale gems and turquoise blue.
And like the Moon half sea-sunk, barely seen,
Or rising from enveloping cloud-bank,
There rose, it seem’d, from beneath that bright dress
Two lunar orbs, as I have never seen,
Or ever think I could, on mortal maid.
The Moon again upon her brow appear’d
In horns of gold – but now, enough, no more!
The mere remembrance brings me grief so great
I wish no more to live. This dust-blown Earth,
This empty world, this prison vile…
PERSES:
My Lord!
[Shows him the picture]
Instruct me, Lord, How seems this sketch to you?
ENDYMION:
The nose a little smaller make, the eyes
A little larger… aye, ’tis well enough.
It is the finest portrait I have seen
And lacks but little; even so I think
No picture drawn by human hand would do
Full justice to my lunar Goddess sweet…
[ENDYMION takes the picture and stares at it silently for some moments]
PERSES:
At dawn I’ll have it hallow’d by the priest
And placed amongst the temple deities…
[ENDYMION hurriedly rolls the picture and thrusts it into his tunic; then turns away toward window]
ENDYMION:
Do not so trouble yourself without cause.
My dream has sanctified it well enough.
Instead I’ll shrine it next my loving heart.
How strangely lingering the Moon doth seem
Upon the slopes of Latmos, like a lamp;
As if reluctant to ascend the sky…
[Turns back]
The stable, Perses! Fetch my horse at once!
Perhaps the Goddess waits for me this night!
Why, yes, my dream is much disguis’d in truth;
Upon an earthly mountain, not the sea…
And yet, are not all mountains merely this?
Uprising islands in a sea of stars?
PERSES:
Be calm, my Lord! Your rapture overwhelms…
ENDYMION:
Yes, raptur’d now, with raptures still to come!
Why stand there, dullard Perses? Fetch my horse!
