Polyeucte Part 12

Thee, Felix, I o'ercame within my cell, Laughed at thy threats if death and torture fell; Yet hast thou still one arm to rouse my fears, The rest I scorn, but dread thy daughter's tears!

One only talisman remains; great G.o.d, 'tis mine, Sufficient for my every need His strength divine!

O thou, dear saint, thy scars all healed, white-robed, in glory crowned, Plead that I too may victory win, thou who hast victory found!

Nearchus, who hast clasped in Heaven that dear, that pierced hand, Plead that thy friend, who wrestles here, may safely by thee stand!

Ye Guards, one last kind service, I would ask, Well may ye grant it, 'tis an easy task: I do not seek deliverance from these thralls, (Looks at his chains.) I do not care to scale my prison walls, But, since three warriors armed can surely guard One fettered man in safest watch and ward, Go one, and beg of great Severus' grace That he would deign to meet me face to face; To him would I a secret now impart, Which much concerns his joy and peace of heart.

CLEON.

On willing foot, my lord, do I obey.

POLY.

Severus must this kindly service pay; Ah, lose no time, time now has fleetest wings.

CLEON.

Full soon to thee thy prayer Severus brings.

(Exit Cleon. Guardsmen retire to background.)

POLY.

The fount is pure, yet bitter waters flow, Sin taints--men poison what was made all fair.

They will not choose immortal streams: they go To seek for pleasure--but find only care: Their pleasure wed to strife--ah, death the gate of life,-- Christ's servants, none but they His crown shall wear!

So pain Is gain: Count not the cost!

The world well lost, His Heaven to share!

O Pleasure, think not that I sigh for thee, Thy charms, that once enslaved, no more delight; In Christ's dear name I bid the tempter flee, His foes are mine,--unlovely in my sight.

The mighty from their seat He hurls beneath His feet, His fan is in His hand, His vengeful sword is bright.

Their crown Cast down.

All hopes most dear They cherish here Shall end in night.

O Decius! Tiger! Pitiless! Athirst With quenchless rage, for blood of Christ's redeemed-- Armenia shall arise, by thee accursed, On her at last has Light of Asia beamed, And our Deliverer from the holy east Shall dash the cup from thy Belshazzar feast!

Secure, And pure, Christ's saints shall reign, And, purged by pain, For aye endure!

Let Felix sacrifice me to thine ire, Yea, let my rival captivate the soul Of her who now with Decius doth conspire To chain immortal hope to earthly goal; Let earth-bound men pursue the world's desire, Sense charms not him who doth to Heaven aspire!

Hail pain!

Disdain All Earthly love, To seek above A holier fire!

Oh, Love that pa.s.seth knowledge be my stay, And fire my heart to beat alone for thee!

Sun of my soul?--oh, flash one purest ray In that last hour supreme--to comfort me, So life's brief night shall merge in endless day!

Come, Death!

Last breath Shall praise thy name, The same, the same, For aye! For aye!

O heavenly fire, most pure, embracing all, Come, s.h.i.+eld me from Pauline, else must I fall!

I see her, but no more as once I saw-- I am encased in armour without flaw: To eyes that gaze alone on heavenly light, Naught else is pure, or dear, or fair, or bright!

(Enter Pauline)

With what intent, Pauline, hast thou come here?

Have I a friend to aid, or foe to fear?

Is it Christ's soldier that thou com'st to greet?

Or wouldst thou sink my triumph in defeat?

If thou wouldst bid me spurn the debt I owe, Not Decius, but Pauline, my deadliest foe!

PAUL.

All, save thyself, to thee, my love, are friends: Love but thyself, love me,--thy torment ends.

Alone thou seal'st thy doom, alone wouldst shed That blood by all Armenia honoured.

Yes, thou art saved, if thou for mercy plead; Demand thy death, and thou are lost indeed.

Think of the worth of this self-hated life, And think in pity of Pauline,--thy wife!

Think of the people that their prince adores, Think of the honours Felix on thee pours!

Oh, I am nothing, nothing unto thee, But, husband, think how dear thou art to me!

Think how the path of glory on thee opes, Thou dearest lodestar of a nation's hopes!

Shall blood of kings be but the headsman's sport?

Is life a toy wherewith thy death to court?

POLY.

I think of more than this; I know what thou wouldst say.

Our life is ours to use, and we that debt must pay.

What life is this men love? An idle, empty dream, Where nothing can endure,--where all things only seem.

Death ends their every joy which fickle Fortune leaves, They gain a royal throne to learn how pomp deceives; They gather wealth that men may envy their estate, They clear a path by blood, so envy turns to hate.

Such vast ambition mine as Caesar never knew, Death bounds it not, for death is but its servant true.

Peace that the world ne'er gave, and cannot take away, That peace, Pauline, is mine, mine wholly, mine for aye!

Nor time, nor fate, nor chance, nor cruel war, Can touch this peace, or this my kingdom mar.

Is this poor life--the creature of a day For endless peace too great a price to pay?

PAUL.

'Out on these Christian dreams!' my reason cries; Whene'er they speak of truth, they utter lies.

Thou say'st: 'To win such prize my life is naught!'

But is thy life thine own? How was it bought?

Our life an heirloom to our country due; What gave thee birth, demands thy service too?

Pay, then thy debt to her who has the right!

POLY.

Ah, for my country I would gladly fight!

I know the glory of a hero's name, I feel the thrill,--I recognise the claim.

My life I owe to whom I owe my sword-- But most to Him who gave it--to the Lord!

Oh, if to die for fatherland be sweet, To die for Him--my G.o.d--what word is meet?

PAUL.

Which G.o.d?

POLY.

Hus.h.!.+ hus.h.!.+ Pauline; the G.o.d who hears And answers prayers,--gives hopes, a.s.suages fears.

Thy G.o.ds are deaf and senseless, maimed and weak, Tongues, mouths they have, and yet they cannot speak.

The Christians' G.o.d alone is mine,--is thine, Jehovah only rules--supreme--divine!

PAUL.

Adore Him in thy heart, but say no word!

POLY.

What! Can I call Jove and Jehovah--Lord?

PAUL.

One moment feign. Ah, let Severus go!

Let but my father all his kindness show!

POLY.

Another Father mine! His love most dear Removes me from a world begirt with fear.