should know his good and take it not? To what god wilt thou pray to pardon this? In vain was reason given, if man therewith Shame truth, and name it wisdom to cry down The unschooled promptings of his best desire. The beasts that have no speech nor argument Confute him, and the wild hog in the wood 650 That feels his longing, hurries straight thereto, And will not turn his head. In. How mean'st thou this? Pr. Thou hast desired the good, and now canst feel How hard it is to kill the heart's desire. In. Shall Inachus rise against Zeus, as he Rose against Cronos and made war in heaven? Pr. I say not so, yet, if thou didst rebel, The tongue that counselled Zeus should counsel thee. Sem. (maidens). This is strange counsel. Sem. (youths). He is not A counsellor for gods or men. 660 In. O that I knew where I might counsel find, That one were sent, nay, were't the least of all The myriad messengers of heaven, to me! One that should say 'This morn I stood with Zeus, He hath heard thy prayer and sent me: ask a boon, What thing thou wilt, it shall be given thee.' Pr. What wouldst thou say to such a messenger? In. No need to ask then what I now might ask, How 'tis the gods, if they have care for mortals, Slubber our worst necessities—and the boon, 670{23} No need to tell him that. Pr. Now, king, thou seest Zeus sends no messenger, but I am here. In. Thy speech is hard, and even thy kindest words Unkind. If fire thou hast, in thee 'tis kind To proffer it: but thou art more unkind Yoking heaven's wrath therewith. Nay, and how knowest thou Zeus will be angry if I take of it? Thou art a prophet: ay, but of the prophets Some have been taken in error, and honest time Has honoured many with forgetfulness. 680 I'll make this proof of thee; Show me thy fire— Nay, give't me now—if thou be true at all, Be true so far: for the rest there's none will lose, Nor blame thee being false—where is thy fire? Pr. O rather, had it thus been mine to give, I would have given it thus: not adding aught Of danger or diminishment or loss; So strong is my goodwill; nor less than this My knowledge, but in knowledge all my power. Yet since wise guidance with a little means 690 Can more than force unminded, I have skill To conjure evil and outcompass strength. Now give I thee my best, a little gift To work a world of wonder; 'tis thine own Of long desire, and with it I will give The cunning of invention and all arts In which thy hand instructed may command, Interpret, comfort, or ennoble nature; With all provision that in wisdom is, And what prevention in foreknowledge lies. 700 In. Great is the gain. Pr. O king, the gain is thine, The penalty I more than share. In. Enough,{24} I take thy gift; nor hast thou stood more firm To every point of thy strange chequered tale, Revealing, threatening, offering more and more, And never all, than I to this resolve. Pr. I knew thy heart would fail not at the hour. In. Nay, failed I now, what were my years of toil More than the endurance of a harnessed brute, Flogged to his daily work, that cannot view 710 The high design to which his labour steps? And I of all men were dishonoured most Shrinking in fear, who never shrank from toil, And found abjuring, thrusting stiffly back, The very gift for which I stretched my hands. What though I suffer? are these wintry years Of growing desolation to be held As cherishable as the suns of spring? Nay, only joyful can they be in seeing Long hopes accomplished, long desires fulfilled. 720 And since thou hast touched ambition on the side Of nobleness, and stirred my proudest hope, And wilt fulfil this, shall I count the cost? Rather decay will triumph, and cold death Be lapped in glory, seeing strength arise From weakness, from the tomb go forth a flame. Pr. 'Tis well; thou art exalted now, the grace Becomes thy valiant spirit. In. Lo! on this day Which hope despaired to see, hope manifests A vision bright as were the dreams of youth; 730 When life was easy as a sleeper's faith Who swims in the air and dances on the sea; When all the good that scarce by toil is won, Or not at all is won, is as a flower Growing in plenty to be plucked at will: Is it a dream again or is it truth, This vision fair of Greece inhabited?{25} A fairer sight than all fair Iris sees, Footing her airy arch of colours spun From Ida to Olympus, when she stays 740 To look on Greece and thinks the sight is fair; Far fairer now, clothed with the works of men. Pr. Ay, fairer far: for nature's varied pleasaunce Without man's life is but a desert wild, Which most, where most she mocks him, needs his aid. She knows her silence sweeter when it girds His murmurous cities, her wide wasteful curves Larger beside his economic line; Or what can add a mystery to the dark, As doth his measured music when it moves 750 With rhythmic sweetness through the void of night? Nay, all her loveliest places are but grounds Of vantage, where with geometric hand, True square and careful compass he may come To plan and plant and spread abroad his towers, His gardens, temples, palaces and tombs. And yet not all thou seest, with trancèd eye Looking upon the beauty that shall be, The temple-crownèd heights, the wallèd towns, Farms and cool summer seats, nor the broad ways 760 That bridge the rivers and subdue the mountains, Nor all that travels on them, pomp or war Or needful merchandise, nor all the sails Piloting over the wind-dappled blue Of the summer-soothed Ægean, to thy mind Can picture what shall be: these are the face And form of beauty, but her heart and life Shall they be who shall see it, born to shield A happier birthright with intrepid arms, To tread down tyranny and fashion forth 770 A virgin wisdom to subdue the world, To build for passion an eternal song, To shape her dreams in marble, and so sweet{26} Their speech, that envious Time hearkening shall stay In fear to snatch, and hide his rugged hand. Now is the birthday of thy conquering youth, O man, and lo! Thy priest and prophet stand Beside the altar and have blessed the day. In. Ay, blessed be this day. Where is thy fire? Or is aught else to do, ere I may take? 780 Pr. This was my message, speak and there is fire. In. There shall be fire. Await me here awhile. I go to acquaint my house, and bring them forth.
[Exit.
Chorus.
Hearken, O Argos, hearken!
There will be fire.
And thou, O Earth, give ear!
There will be fire.
Sem. (maidens). Who shall be sent to fetch this fire for the king? Sem. (youths). Shall we put forth in boats to reap, And shall the waves for harvest yield 790 The rootless flames that nimbly leap Upon their ever-shifting field? Sem. (maidens). Or we in olive-groves go shake And beat the fruiting sprays, till all The silv'ry glitter which they make Beneath into our baskets fall? Sem. (youths). To bind in sheaves and bear away The white unshafted darts of day? Sem. (maidens). And from the shadow one by one Pick up the playful oes of sun? 800 Sem. (youths). Or wouldst thou mine a passage deep Until the darksome fire is found, Which prisoned long in seething sleep Vexes the caverns underground? Sem. (maidens). Or bid us join our palms perchance,{27} To cup the slant and chinkèd beam, Which mounting morn hath sent to dance Across our chamber while we dream? Sem. (youths). Say whence and how shall we fetch this fire for the king? Our hope is impatient of vain debating. 810 Sem. (maidens). My heart is stirred at the name of the wondrous thing, And trembles awaiting.
ODE.
A coy inquisitive spirit, the spirit of wonder,
Possesses the child in his cradle, when mortal things
Are new, yet a varied surface and nothing under.
It busies the mind on trifles and toys and brings
Her grasp from nearer to further, from smaller to greater,
And slowly teaches flight to her fledgeling wings.
Where'er she flutters and falls surprises await her:
She soars, and beauty's miracles open in sight, 820
The flowers and trees and beasts of the earth ; and later
The skies of day, the moon and the stars of night;
'Neath which she scarcely venturing goes demurely,
With mystery clad, in the awe of depth and height.
O happy for still unconscious, for ah ! how surely,
How soon and surely will disenchantment come,
When first to herself she boasts to walk securely,
And drives the master spirit away from his home;
Seeing the marvellous things that make the morning
Are marvels of every-day, familiar, and some 830
Have lost with use, like earthly