Poem II

Saw ye the mighty Mother, where she wentSearching the land?Nor night nor day resting from her lament,With smoky torch in hand.Her godhead in the passion of a sorrow spentWhich not her mind coud suffer, nor heart withstand?--

Enlanguor'd like a fasting lioness,That prowls aroundRobb'd of her whelps, in fury comfortlessUntil her lost be found:Implacable and terrible in her wild distress;And thro' the affrighted country her roars resound.--

But lo! what form is there? Thine eyes awaken!See! see! O say,Is not that she, the furious, the forsaken?She cometh, lo! this way;Her golden-rippling hair upon her shoulders shaken,And all her visage troubled with deep dismay.

Here is the hateful spot, the hollow rockWhence the fierce ravisher sprang forth--(seeing the nymphs) Ah! Ye!I know you well: ye are the nymphs of Ocean.Ye, graceful as your watery namesAnd idle as the mimic flamesThat skip upon his briny floor,When the hot sun smiteth thereo'er;Why did ye leave your native waves?Did false Poseidon, to my hurtLeagued with my foe, bid you desertYour opalescent pearly caves,Your dances on the shelly strand?

CH. Poseidon gave us no command,Lady; it was thy child Persephone,Whose beauty drew us from the sea.

DEM. Ill company ye lent, ill-fated guards!How was she stolen from your distracted eyes?

CH. There, where thou standest now, stood she companion'dBy wise Athena and bright Artemis.We in flower-gathering dance and idle songWere wander'd off apart; we fear'd no wrong.DEM. In heav'n I heard her cry: ye nothing heard?

CH. We heard no cry--How coudst thou hear in heaven?Ask us not óf her:--we have nought to tell.--

DEM. I seek not knowledge óf you, for I know.

CH. Thou knowest? Ah, mighty Queen, deign then to tellIf thou hast found her. Tell us--tell us--tell!

DEM. Oh, there are calls that love can hear,That strike not on the outward ear.None heard save I: but with a dartOf lightning-pain it pierc'd my heart,That call for aid, that cry of fear.It echo'd from the mountain-steepsDown to the dark of Ocean-deeps;O'er all the isle, from ev'ry hillIt pierc'd my heart and echoes still,Ay me! Ay me!

DEM. Swift unto earth, in frenzy ledBy Cora's cry, from heav'n I sped.Immortal terror froze my mind:I fear'd, ev'n as I yearn'd to findMy child, my joy, faln from my careWrong'd or distresst, I knew not where,Cora, my Cora!Nor thought I whither first to fly,Answ'ring the appeal of that wild cry:But still it drew me till I cameTo Enna, calling still her name,Cora, my Cora!

DEM. Nine days I wander'd o'er the land.From Enna to the eastern strandI sought, and when the first night cameI lit my torch in Etna's flame.But neither 'mid the chestnut woodsThat rustle o'er his stony floods;Nor yet at daybreak on the meadsWhere bountiful Symaethus leadsHis chaunting boatmen to the main;Nor where the road on Hybla's plainIs skirted by the spacious corn;Nor where embattled SyracuseWith lustrous temple fronts the morn;Nor yet by dolphin'd Arethuse;Nor when I crossed Anapus wide,Where Cyane, his reedy bride,Uprushing from her crystal well,Doth not his cold embrace repel;Nor yet by western Eryx, whereGay Aphrodite high in airBeams gladness from her marble chair;Nor 'mong the mountains that enfoldPanormos in her shell of gold,Found I my Cora: no replyCame to my call, my helpless cry,Cora, my Cora!

DEM. What wonder that I never foundHer whom I sought on mortal ground,When she--(now will ye understand?)--Dwelt in the land that is no land,The fruitless and unseason'd plainWhere all lost things are found again;Where man's distract imaginingsHead-downward hang on bat-like wings,'Mid mummied hopes, sleep-walking cares,Crest-faln illusions and despairs,The tortur'd memories of crime,The outcasts of forgotten time?

CH. Where is she, Queen?--where?--where?

DEM. Nor had I known,Had not himself high Helios seen and told me.

CH. Alas! Alas! We cannot understand--We pray, dear Queen, may great Zeus comfort thee.

DEM. Yea, pray to Zeus; but pray ye for yourselves,That he have pity on you, for there is need.Or let Zeus hear a strange, unwonted prayerThat in his peril he will aid himself;For I have said, nor coud his Stygian oathAdd any sanction to a mother's word,That, if he give not back my daughter to me,Him will I slay, and lock his pining ghostIn sleepy prisons of unhallowing hell.

CH. (aside). Alas! alas! she is distraught with grief.--What comfort can we make?-- How reason with her?--(to D.) This coud not be, great Queen. How coud it beThat Zeus should be destroy'd, or thou destroy him?

DEM. Yea, and you too: so make your prayer betimes.

CH. We pray thee, Lady, sit thou on this bankAnd we will bring thee food; or if thou thirst,Water. We know too in what cooling cavesThe sly Fauns have bestow'd their skins of wine.

DEM. Ye simple creatures, I need not these things,And stand above your pity. Think ye meA woman of the earth derang'd with grief?Nay, nay: but I have pity on your pity,And for your kindness I will ease the troubleWherewith it wounds your gentleness: attend!Ye see this jewel here, that from my neckHangs by this golden chain.

Look, 'tis a picture,'Tis of Persephone.

CH. How?--Is that she?--A crown she weareth.--She was never wontThus ...--nor her robe thus--and her countenanceHath not the smile which drew us from the sea.

DEM. Daedalus cut it, in the year he madeThe Zibian Aphrodite, and HephaestusO'erlookt and praised the work. I treasure itBeyond all other jewels that I have,And on this chain I guard it. Say now: think yeIt cannot fall loose until every linkOf all the chain be broken, or if oneBreak, will it fall?

CH. Surely if one break, Lady,The chain is broken and the jewel falls.

DEM. 'Tis so. Now hearken diligently. All lifeIs as this chain, and Zeus is as the jewel.The universal life dwells first in the Earth,The stones and soil; therefrom the plants and treesExhale their being; and on them the brutesFeeding elaborate their sentient life,And from these twain mankind; and in mankindA spirit lastly is form'd of subtler sortWhereon the high gods live, sustain'd thereby,And feeding on it, as plants on the soil,Or animals on plants. Now see! I hold,As well ye know, one whole link of this chain:If I should kill the plants, must not man perish?And if he perish, then the gods must die.CH. If this were so, thou wouldst destroy thyself.

DEM. And therefore Zeus will not believe my word.

CH. Nor we believe thee, Lady: it cannot beThat thou shouldst seek to mend a private fortuneBy universal ruin, and restoreThy daughter by destruction of thyself.

DEM. Ye are not mothers, or ye would not wonder.In me, who hold from great all-mother RheaHeritage of essential motherhood,Ye would look rather for unbounded passion.Coud I, the tenderness of Nature's heart,Exist, were I unheedful to protectFrom wrong and ill the being that I gave,The unweeting passions that I fondly nurturedTo hopes of glory, the young confidenceIn growing happiness? Shall I throw byAs self-delusion the supreme ambition,Which I encourag'd till parental fondnessBore the prophetic blessing, on whose truthMy spirit throve? Oh never! nay, nay, nay!That were the one disaster, and if aidI cannot, I can mightily avenge.On irremediable wrong I shrink notTo pile immortal ruin, there to lieAs trophies on a carven tomb: nor lessFor that no memory of my deed survive,Nor any eye to see, nor tongue to tell.

CH. So vast injustice, Lady, were not good.

DEM. To you I seem unjust involving man.

CH. Why should man suffer in thy feud with Zeus?

DEM. Let Zeus relent. There is no other way.I will destroy the seeds of plant and tree:Vineyard and orchard, oliveyard and cornlandShall all withhold their fruits, and in their steadShall flourish the gay blooms that Cora loved.There shall be dearth, and yet so gay the dearthThat all the land shall look in holidayWith mockery of foison; every fieldWith splendour aflame. For wheat the useless poppyIn sheeted scarlet; and for barley and oatsThe blue and yellow weeds that mock men's toil,Centaury and marigold in chequer'd plots:Where seed is sown, or none, shall dandelionsAnd wretched ragwort vie, orchis and irisAnd garish daisy, and for every flowerThat in this vale she pluckt, shall spring a thousand.Where'er she slept anemones shall crowd,And the sweet violet. These things shall ye see.--But I behold him whom I came to meet,Hermes:--he, be he laden howsoe'er,Will heavier-laden to his lord return.

Mighty Demeter, Mother of the seasons,Bountiful all-sustainer, fairest daughterOf arch-ancestral Rhea,--to thee Zeus sendethKindly message. He grieves seeing thy godheadOffended wrongly at eternal justice,'Gainst destiny ordain'd idly revolting.Ever will he, thy brother, honour theeAnd willingly aid thee: but since now thy daughterIs raised to a place on the tripartite throne,He finds thee honour'd duly and not injur'd.Wherefore he bids thee now lament no more,But with thy presence grace the courts of heav'n.

DEM. Bright Hermes, Argus-slayer, born of Maia,Who bearest empty words, the mask of war,To Zeus make thine own words, that thou hast found meOffended,--that I still lament my daughter,Nor heed his summons to the courts of heav'n.HER. Giv'st thou me nought but these relentless words?

DEM. I send not words, nor dost thou carry deeds.But know, since heav'n denies my claim, I takeEarth for my battle-field. Curse and defianceShall shake his throne, and, readier then for justice,Zeus will enquire my terms: thou, on that day,Remember them; that he shall bid thee leadPersephone from Hades by the hand,And on this spot, whence she was stol'n, restore herInto mine arms. Execute that; and praiseShall rise from earth and peace return to heav'n.

HER. How dare I carry unto Zeus thy threats?

DEM. Approach him with a gift: this little wallet.

I will not see thee again until the dayThou lead my daughter hither thro' the gates of Hell. [Going.

HER. Ah! mighty Queen, the lightness of thy giftIs greater burden than thy weighty words.

(1) Sisters! what have we heard!Our fair Persephone, the flower of the earth,By Hades stolen away, his queen to be.(others) Alas!--alas!--ay me!(2) And great Demeter's bold relentless wordTo Hermes given,Threatening mankind with dearth.(others) Ay me! alas! alas!--(3 or 1) She in her sorrow strongFears not to impeach the King of Heaven,And combat wrong with wrong.--(others confusedly) What can we do?--Alas!--Back to our ocean-haunts returnTo weep and mourn.--What use to mourn?--Nay, nay!--Away with sorrow:Let us forget to-dayAnd look for joy to-morrow:--Nay, how forget that on us too,--Yea, on us allThe curse will fall.--What can we do? Alas! alas!(1) Hearken! There's nought so light,Nothing of weight so small,But that in even balance 'twill availWholly to turn the scale.Let us our feeble force unite,And giving voice to tears,Assail Poseidon's ears;Rob pleasure from his days,Darken with sorrow all his ways,Until his shifty mindBecome to pity inclined,And 'gainst his brother turn.(others) 'Tis well, thou sayest well.(2) Yea; for if Zeus should learnThat earth and sea were both combinedAgainst his cruel intent,Sooner will he relent.(others) 'Tis well--we do it--'tis well.--(1) Come let us vow. Vow all with one accordTo harden every heartTill we have won Poseidon to our part.(all) We vow--we do it--we vow.(1) Till we have conquer'd heav'n's almighty lordAnd seen Persephone restored.(all) We vow--we vow.(1) Come then all; and, as ye go,Begin the song of woe.