Two dramatic poems

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Blind Love : A Dramatic Poem in Five Acts . i

Cyril : Four Scenes from a Life . . . 197 Sonnet : Love for the Young . . . -337

Scene I. — A Garden. Enter Raymond, conducted by Hope

hope Will you rest here ?

A little further on ; I want to feel the green beneath my feet, To reach yon lilies if I stretch my hand, To be quite sure that where I turn my face The steady sunbeams walk across the lake ; Are we right now?

HOPE

Aye, to an inch. How well Your fancy measures !

B 2

O, my certainty !

My grasp is stronger than your glance. I work Like a poor prisoner, scanning through and through His little stock of unfamiliar words Till they become a language. Step by step, Testing remembrances, collecting facts, Resolving doubts, I pass, slow, tranquil, sad, And undisturbed by beauty or by fear, Regions of wonder and appeal, where you, Beset, enchanted, tempted, checked, compelled, Gaze, linger, and learn nothing.

HOPE

Say it not !

How? Tears in that true voice {touches her cheek).

And in those eyes !

O, how should eyes that see shed any tears ! What ails you ?

HOPE

Nothing but the pang of words. You break my heart, not meaning it. I know scene i. BLIND LOVE. \

All that you lose and all that I possess ; There's not an hour of our unequal day When I forget that hard comparison ; The thought lies patient in my soul ; the word Wounds like a weapon.

This my pain, in you Becomes my healing. When you weep for me You draw my tears away — my selfish heart Beholds and comforts its reflected grief And then forgets it for a little while As if it were another's. Therefore, sweet, Grudge not your gentle remedy, but give Like a flower, drawing raindrops to its root And giving blossoms to the sky.

HOPE

I give Myself, you know it. Whatsoe'er in me Has force or help, being mine must needs be yours ; Would it were better ! Take me as I am, A trinket for your neck, not even a gem, Only a keepsake !

Thus you play for ' no ' And win it ; ah, no trinket for my neck, Staff for my hand — a blind man's metaphor With twice the truth of fact ! Come, change the

strain And tell me of the day.

HOPE

The day is fresh As the first made — a new experiment That wonders at itself — this early sky Is vague and tender as an infant's love When it cries c father ; to each face it meets : There may be clouds to come ; methinks they lurk Under the fields of primrose light, not showing Their grey crests to the sun ; biding their time With that slow air which trembles in the woods Full of such whispered threats and promises ' Trust me ' and ' trust me not ' that no man knows Which shall achieve fulfilment; all things wait Upon the lips of Time, till he pronounce The sentence of the day, < be fair or foul/ scene i. BLIND LOVE.

So severing in a moment dark from light ; Meantime the hues of heaven and earth put on A passion and a sweetness, as of those Who think they shall die young, and so are set To do their utmost with their little span ; I did not know suspense was beautiful Till now.

You paint me nothing. Try again, The weather is not vaguer than your talk ; I want no poem, but a catalogue.

HOPE

Thus then again. Just at your feet, the grass Hides yet some scattered dewdrops and is bright ; I read the landscape by this key, and trace A dew-perspective to its farthest bound In silvered lights and blue transparent shades Sprinkled with morning ; and the rounded edge Of woods, and all the melting downward lines Which prove the tender haze I cannot see. On every branch of these near pines, the light Lies like a stroke of frost ; black underneath •

Between, the warm tree-colour burns its way, But all the gathered sheaves of leafage keep A strange moon-lustre of their own ; the lake Is a blank tremulous glitter, touched and flecked With shadows of invisible reeds ; beyond, Stretches the folded distance, lucent, pale, And tranquil as the breadths of holy thought Whereon a saint reposes ere he dies.

Right — in the distance only dwells Repose, Near us we count the changes. No events ? Has the day's work begun for us alone ? Is all the world asleep ?

HOPE

Yon watchful spire .

Rings out its hymn scarce audible for us, And tangled in the murmur of the wheel Where the deft mill spins water

Raymond {interrupting)

Nay, no sounds !

I am your teacher there. In every note I hear a hundred shades and feel them all, scene i. BLIND LOVE. 9

Divining whence they rise and what they mean, And how they blend themselves for general ears, Rough unisons to them, to me a store Of possible symphonies ; a plot, a web, With all its threadlets separate in my hand. What else ?

HOPE

Upon the lake a speck — dark — definite, No shadow but a coming boat. It cuts The sunshine like a new resistless thought Passing through severed day dreams to its goal. Now could I fancy, love, that you and I Were two poor prisoners, watching anxiously A freight of doom or freedom. Shall we say That if it pass the stair it carries doom, But if it pause there, freedom?

As you will. {Aside) She treads on truth, not knowing. {Aloud)

Give account ; Where is this destiny ?

HOPE

Beneath the limes ; Her prow is to the stair ; nay, but she turns ;

io BLIND LOVE. act i.

She mocked us with a brittle chance, which fell Before we grasped it. We must set ourselves To face the worst — she passes.

By heaven's light, Which I may never see, she shall not pass ! Look and be sure !

HOPE

Why, what a voice of fire !

You play too fiercely.

Has she passed the stair ?

HOPE

I told you — no, she cheats, — she tacks again ; Love, you are right — she lands !

Raymond {clasping her)

Freedom and Hope !

scene II. BLIND LOVE. n Scene II

Raymond — Hope — Avice.

Enter Avice.

avice I came to summon you to breakfast, friends, And I trod softly, not to break your dreams Of ceaseless interchange of endless vows ; I find you shouting like a populace. What is the matter ?

O, vast ignorance !

We change our vows with ' tumult of acclaim ' As if we were in Paradise.

You mock me As is your custom. Why not say at once You will not tell me what you shouted for ?

Unreasoning goddess ! Said you not on Tuesday You did not, would not, could not, know one phrase Or fragment of Love's grammar? Can you judge Whether I mock or not, explaining it ?

Why ( goddess,' sir

Because you cannot reason : Women, we know, are reasoning animals.

The worse for them since they consort with men.

A good retort ! Say it again.

I know You must hear oft before you understand.

Ah, for that cause you are so sweetly zealous In talking to me always. Now I see !

scene II. BLIND LOVE. 13

avice {angry) I am sure I never wish to talk to you.

Martyr, how nobly you deny yourself.

HOPE

O, Raymond, do not teaze her !

Let it pass.

He has no power to teaze me.

Raymond (imitating her voice) to Hope

Let him talk, He knows how much I like it ; (in his own voice) why

I told you Only last night how thoroughly she likes me !

Did he say so ? Did he ? I charge you, tell me ! Hope, did he say so when I was not by ? And did you suffer it ?

HOPE

Indeed, dear cousin, We would not hurt you by a word.

Be honest And face my question, do not fence with it ; If this be how you spend your tete-a-tetes I'm near to scorning you. Why should you care, You who would have us think you all the world Each to the other, what another thinks Of either ? Does your sentiment grow flat And must you spice it with a slander ? Fie ! You flourish forth your banners of romance, Devotion, grandeur, high bewilderment, And in their shelter, when we think you sitting Like angels, smoothing down each other's plumes, You are but pecking at a poor girl's name Like very common sparrows. I am proud To be a dunce, below the elements Of such a science.

HOPE

Will you listen ?

scene II. BLIND LOVE. 15

Tut !

She cannot. Take it not so gravely, Hope ; Make life a jest, a battle, or a dream, Never a sermon ! I can hear the laugh Under this rage.

HOPE

It is a pain to me That she should think we spoke of her unkindly.

Why do you speak of me at all ?

The theme Is tempting. Teach us (since you know so well What lovers should not say), teach us our rules ; How should we talk ?

O, I can criticise What I would never practise. Love should talk Oi nothing but itself, because, being blind, It reaches only that which it can feel,

And should discuss no further. (To Hope.) Why do

you touch me ?

I said no harm.

HOPE

'Tis nothing. Let it pass.

I know her meaning and will read it to you.

HOPE

Nay, do not.

But I will. (To Avice.) She's such a despot As would maim languages, and sweep from all That dreadful word which means the thing I am. You said that Love was blind, and so have sinned Scaring me with an image of myself — Ah, silly Hope ! Ere I can be reminded I must forget.

HOPE

O, if but for one hour I could beguile you to forget your grief No victor on his birthday, sunned and wreathed scene ii. BLIND LOVE. 17

With a land's homage, were so satisfied With glory as my heart.

I am here too long ; I can encounter mockery with scorn And do it sweetly; when you lecture me, I can be gay and talk of something else, As birds would, if a choir sang psalms to them ; But when you come to turns of sentiment, To ploughing up with sighs your tender souls And bandying mutual sugarplums — I'm gone. Sweet friends, enjoy yourselves, for Time is short, And Love is lengthy as an Indian calm To ships which fain would be at home. Farewell, Joy keep you both ! [Exit Avice.

There goes a little shrew !

And yet you say that all men flock to her, Prizing her frown above a wealth of smiles.

HOPE

Her words are harder than her heart.

c iS BLIND LOVE. act i.

They need be, Else were her heart a nut to crack the steel ; I would not try it

HOPE

She is beautiful With more than woman's beauty. Every line True as cold marble, clothed upon with light Flushing with change and colour that would charm In common lineaments ; she moves before us And we believe her not, but every day Learn her anew, so far her actual face Exceeds remembrance or conception.

Pshaw !

Say't not to me. I know a little face As far before hers as your speech is. Hark, I'll tell you fairy tales. Say that a wand Should wake these sleepers (touching his eyes), and give

back the dawn To this forgetful darkness, setting me Once more a man among the multitudes scene ii. BLIND LOVE, 19

And capable as they ; if then a host

Of ranged aspects like a theatre

Watched my first flash of sight, I, with that flash,

Would seize your face among them, recognised

By its own lovely meaning.

HOPE

No, revealed By love to love. I do not doubt you, dear, Yet is she as far fairer than myself, As some vast lily than the thready moss Under your foot unseen ; and yet I'll trust you ; You could not miss me, for your heart knows mine Familiarly, as friends that live together Know the least accent of each other's tones Ere they discern a word. I am sure of you.

Now go, you meek supremacy — the day Speeds, and our father chides.

HOPE

Will not you come ?

I'll follow.

C2

HOPE But I cannot leave you here.

What — here — where every grass-blade knows my foot ! Come, I am fixed.

HOPE

Dear Raymond, let me stay.

Not a new minute ! Such poor drifts of freedom,

And purpose , as my sorrow leaves to me

I'll hoard and use — you would not grudge me them

If you could count their fewness. I am bent

To find my way alone, and please myself

With hollow fancies that I know as much

As men with eyes. You linger?

HOPE

Nay, I am gone. \Exit Hope* She remains close by the entrance, watching.

scene ii. BLIND LOVE. 21

Now, stay ! I hardly trust her. All her life Is full of tender frauds that cheat her friends Out of their right to suffer. If she went Fairly, she should be out of call — I'll try. What! Hope!

Re-e?iter Hope instantly.

HOPE

Here Raymond — are you hurt ?

Ah, traitress !

You meant to lurk and watch about my steps Like a deceitful angel. You shall promise ; I know you will not break your word — a woman Lies seldom with her tongue. Give me your word That you'll go thoroughly.

HOPE

Well— if I must.

And put that foolish trouble from your voice.

Do not be angry.

HOPE RAYMOND

Do not make me so.

HOPE

Not for a world.

You do it for a whim.

Now would you welcome some swift accident To teach me my dependence.

HOPE

O, for shame !

Tis a man's charity to spare the fear Which he despises. Only for myself I lingered ; now I leave you faithfully, Be kind and follow soon — I shall scarce breathe Till I receive you safe. \Exit Hope.

So then at last The moment ripens to my grasp ! I hear The ruffled shingle and the parting fern As that quick foot springs upward. Are you there?

Scene III. Raymond — to him Carlton

carlton {taking Raymond's hand and looking earnestly at him)

How fare you? Am I welcome?

I am as one Who having pined across the long bare sea Comes passionate and homesick to the shore But dares not set his foot there lest he hear That some dear place is empty, and for him The fair familiar pleasantness of earth Become a desolation.

You do well To face the worst beforehand, trying thus The strength of weapons which you may not need.

I know their strength. There is no worst for him

Who has not seen the sun for twenty years.

Say that you fail — your time, your skill, your hope

Are wasted, and your wreath must lose a rose ;

Full bitter are the tears of baffled men

Though shameless their defeat. Pity yourself !

But if you say to me those dreadful words

6 Be blind for ever ! I can do no more !'

You do not thrust me to that outer dark,

You leave me only where I was before,

Where I am quite at home.

So would I have you ; Strong, tranquil, ready. I may tell you now All things are ripe for our experiment Time, practice, place. If you can go with me To-day

I am ready now.

Why, so am I.

But, Carlton, when we talked of this before You told me of a man, blind like myself For twenty years, and by the same disease, Whose case at every point so matched with mine That if you tried your remedy on him And after came to me, we might be likened To vessels measured in one mould, and you Filling the first with hesitating hand Can estimate the second to a drop. Did you not tell me this ?

TIs true. I did.

And have you tried this remedy on him ?

I tried it.

The result ?

To tell you.

Almost I fear

You have told it. He has heard That sentence of irrevocable doom. Tell me it was a chance, that prizes come Most surely after blanks, that difference Lurks undetected in the likest things, And I, despairing not from his mishap, May find a fairer close — but, tell the truth, He shall be blind for ever.

Man, he sees ! [Raymond starts and covers his face with his hands. Why have you forced it from me ? I was bent To hold you from excess of confidence. Men die of overfulness as of want. Besides, that small invisible difference May (mark, I do not say it will !) may lead To different issues. Be not over-bold. What, Raymond, what ? You weep.

Raymond {recovering himself)

No!

Yet be calm ;

Your health demands it.

Why do you handle me As if I were a woman, or a drug In your laboratory, to be tempered And analysed at will? You are to blame : You should have told the truth at once. I feel (Not for myself — I am calm about myself)] But for the Heaven which fell upon that man Whom I have always likened to myself, In one tremendous moment. Did it crush him ? How did he bear it ?

Reasonably, friend ; J Tis distance that enlarges hope or fear ; They dwindle as they reach us ; like the clouds Which cover half a sky, but at our feet Break into trivial raindrops. He was calm ; Men should be calm

O, then he was a fool Not worth a question. Talk of him no more. Stupidity is calmness out of place. There's no sublimity in sitting still While the house burns ; and that philosopher Who sees the world created, and is calm, Is capable of nothing. Out upon him ! I'd have the first half inch of visible green Choke him with ecstasy ! Come, will you lead me ? We should be going.

Does your father know ?

Nothing. I am a prudent man, and hold Suspense when shared is doubled.

Say you so ?

Yet should your prudence be compassionate. Your father loves you and is old — 'tis hard To leave him in this blank.

You check me well.

The burden of my hope disables me From care for others. Will you write for me ?

carlton {takes out his tablets) What shall I write ?

Raymond (dictating)

i My dear friends. Do not be uneasy about me. I am gone on a good errand and under good care, and you shall hear from me very soon. I am safe and content.'

; Tis done — and here your name !

I pray you guide my fingers to the place. I have a secret sign, whereby they know The words are mine. Is this below the name ?

[Carlton places a pen in his hand. So, 'tis authenticated.

To reach them ?

BLIND LOVE. act i.

But, the way

On the right, some yards away, There stands a rustic seat.

'Tis found.

There place it; She left me there — lay it beneath a stone For safety.

carlton {laughing) Your instructions are minute, Nothing escapes you.

No. It is my pride To see with others' eyes effectively.

[Exeunt Carlton and Raymond.

scene iv. BLIND LOVE. 31 Scene IV

E?iter Damer Grey and Hope, followed by Avice.

grey (speaking as he enters)

Safe here ? A pretty tale ! Safe anywhere ! Did you forget that he was blind ? For shame ! You thought to meet him as we came ? You thought ! I'll wager that you did not think at all ! Is this your care ?

HOPE

O, father, chide me not !

He sent me from him.

GREY

Sent ? Why did you go ?

You should have made believe to go, and stayed To watch his dangerous steps.

HOPE

Why, so I did, But he suspected me.

GREY

You are so fine You cannot brook suspicion ; you would rather See such a man whom you profess to love Fall from a precipice, than stretch your hand To save him, if he bids you not. Come now, Do you know where you left him ?

HOPE

Here.

GREY

Oh, well, Very well — knowing that you left him here You are content, although you find him not ; He was here — and he should be here — triads all — And you are satisfied. But I, his father, Only his father, am less rational. Prove to me by a hundred arguments That on this square of earth he ought to stand,

[Striking the ground with his stick. Must stand, has no escape from standing here, Yet, if I stand here too, and see him not, I feel a fault i' the logic. Raymond ! Ho ! Answer ! What, Raymond ! Raymond I scene iv. BLIND LOVE. 33

hope {wringing her hands)

Not a sound !

The path lies straight — that treacherous brink of fern. Was far behind — he could not face that way, And darkness is familiar to his feet, O ! he's not lost, but gone !

GREY

This is mad talk.

Where? how? with whom? Would gipsies kidnap

him, Like some gay-snooded babe ? You cannot think To stay my hunger with such hollow trash ; Devise some better fancy. [Hope weeps.

avice {to Hope)

Why do you bear it ?

You should not weep ; you have no cause to weep ; No momentary speck of doubtful blame Can touch you.

hope O ! I think not of myself, The woe is here— it nothing comforts me

D

To say I did not bring it. If I knew him Unhurt and happy, I could be content To give him up for ever.

Is that love ?

I'd rather have the thing I love dead here

[touching her breast Than crpwned in Germany.

HOPE

With that you prove You never loved at all. What shall we do ? In this mere blank we breathe not. He has . c unk As a ship sinks, with all her moving freight Of work, thought, hope, where the split water shuts, A waste without a mark ; he has ceased like sound Which in the sudden silence leaves no trace. We must go out and search the world for him, Or wait at home and die for want of him ; We are so cloaked and fettered by despair We cannot stir. Let us sit down awhile And tell each other how we love him, tell How noble and how tender was his soul, scene iv. BLIND LOVE. 35

How his blind life made music in our home

We would give all our eyes to hear again \

The dumb compulsion of such love as ours

May wring him back from the veiled destiny

Which holds him from us. Here I touched him last;

I will beseech the ground to give him back

Or gape and cover me.

[She throws he?' self on the ground.

GREY

Why, Hope — why, child — Look up — he may be safe — break not my heart For your sake also. I was all amazed And knew not what I said.

HOPE

You said but truth • I should have clung about his knees, and saved him Against his will.

Saved him from what ? Heaven help us ! The creature's gone ten minutes, and you talk As if you had the knife-hilt at your palm Wherewith he slew himself. I'll lay my life

(Dearer than his) there's nought amiss with him. I lose my patience ; are you one of those Who moan and make not ? Here !

[Discovering the letter.

hope {taking it with trembling hands)

O read it to me, For I am blind as he is.

GREY

Let me have it.

[He reads the letter aloud.

And here his secret sign ! Safe and content ! Too hard a nut for me ! And how content Knowing we could not know that he was safe ? Is that his love and duty? I am ashamed Of all this wasted agony.

HOPE

Rejoice That it is wasted — do not judge him yet ; We shall hear all ere long. Let us go in And muse together of this mystery, Which, till he speaks again, we cannot pierce.

SCENE IV.

1LIXD LC

WE.

I'll not forgive him.

GREY

HOPE

Father !

GREY

Nay,

I will not.

[Exeunt

Grey and Hope

, Jianging on him.

avice {alone, Iooki?ig after them) Aye, muse together, one in childish wrath That beats it knows not what, and one in faith As childish, trusting where it cannot know. Well for them that one disentangled soul Stands by, to smooth their web ! Now, if I knew Where he is gone ! Why, Hope, who watches him So closely that the germs of ungrown thought Should not escape her, rests in ignorance ! What worth is Love that cannot read the heart But stirs like a vague wind about the woods Which, ceasing, leaves the shaken stems to feel That proper life and movement of the sap Which it affected not. I am full of words

Like philosophic preachers who make plain The doctrine, though they never do the works ; I know the shape and trouble of this Love Too well to trust my heart in reach of it. But see, here comes my dream-fed boy, who waits Through patient ages for a smile from Hope And, winning it, is sadder than before Because no blush goes with it. I'll stand by And hear his murmurs. (She draws back.)

Enter Vernon, with a rose.

Three times she passed \ three times I lacked the force

To give her this poor rose I plucked for her ;

O fool ! She heeds thee not enough to spurn thee ;

The placid toleration of her smile

Grinds me to dust ! Yet will I shrine her now

Above me, where she is, and gird her round

With homage and obeisance, such as maids

Pay to the limned image of their saint,

Nor seek return, except by miracle.

Alas, a weary life, that dwarfs the soul

Until it dies by wasting.

scene iv. BLIND LOVE. 39

avice (advancing)

Are you there ?

O, you are sad to-day.

You read my face As the cliff-watchman reads the passing sail, Named in a moment.

Truly I am glad When sympathy can do the work of knowledge.

Since you discern my sorrow, tell its cause.

Tis a strange sorrow, if it springs from Hope, Should not Hope cure it?

Do not play with me.

Reveal me such a cure, and I — no, no, I must be thankless for a boon so vast That it leaves room for nothing but itself.

40 BLIJSTD LOVE. act i.

AVICE Alas, poor Hope, I would she saw your heart Beside that one she dotes on !

Can it be That having won the queen of all the world He is but half her servant ?

We are seekers, And what we have, we heed not. She's not wise. Will she take counsel? She is at his neck Hanging so closely that he sees her not ; She stands not in the picture of -his life Noted by light, or veiled by tempting shade, But, if he find a flower, and stretch his hand To pluck it, then he feels her; so his jewel Becomes an obstacle. You shrink — I wound you Against my will.

That she should love him so Hurts more than that he so should scorn her love.

scene iv. BLIND LOVE. 41

Hush, hush, you must not say I spoke of scorn ; He loves her with a brother's temperance, Less than himself ; and she is satisfied. So would I be if I were sure of him, But

Tell me how to help her !

Do not hold me

So close. You hurt my hands.

O pardon me.

You have such vivid speech, you show the brink With her upon it, and I thought I saved her. "What can I do ?

Am I so poor a thing That only by mistake my hand is pressed ? Tut ! he perceives not.

Hear me

Not a word \ I meant it not. Let us agree to watch ; Be this our compact — thoughts may strike aside, And judgments fail, but let us watch for facts Which cannot err. You that are Raymond's friend — (Men show themselves to men) lead him to talk, Keep back your heart and feel for his, and find How he regards her ; test him for her sake, That when we know the truth with certainty We may take counsel and devise for her How she shall bear it.

I'll be led by you.

Take him alone, and touch him to the quick.

Match her with others, tempt him till he says

He wearies in the everlasting light

Which shows him all. 'Tis right that we should know.

scene iv. BLIND LOVE. 43