ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN (1841 - 1901)

{The Drama of Kings 1871}

                                                                                                                                                                 110

BUONAPARTE.

The cup is overflowing. Pour, pour yet,                                            [note]
My Famulus—pour with free arm-sweep still,
And when the wine is running o’er the brim,
Sparkling with golden bubbles in the sun,
I will stoop down and drink the full great draught
Of glory, and as did those heroes old
Drinking ambrosia in the happy isles,
Dilate at once to perfect demigod.
Meantime, I feast my eyes as the wine runs
And the cup fills. Fill up, my Famulus!
Pour out the precious juice of all the earth,
Pour with great arm-sweep, that the world may see.

O Famulus—O Spirit—O good Soul,
Come close to me and listen—curl thyself
Up in my breast—let us drink ecstasy
Together; for the charm thou taughtest me
Is working like slow poison in the veins
Of the great nations: each, a wild-beast tamed,                                  111
Looks mildly in mine eyes and from my hand
Eats gently; and this day I speak the charm
To Russia, and, behold! the crafty eyes
Blink sleepily, while on the fatal lips
Hovers the smile of appetite half-fed,
Half-hungry: he being won, all else is won,
And at our feet, our veritable slave,
Lies Europe. Whisper now, Soul of my Soul,
Since we have won this Europe with the sword,
How we shall portion it to men anew.

First, in the centre of the West, I set
My signet like a star, and on a rock
Base the imperial Throne: seated whereon,
The royal crown of France upon my head,
At hand the iron crown of Lombardy,
And in my sceptre blended as a sign
The hereditary gems of Italy,
Spain, Holland, I shall see beneath my feet
My puppets sit with strings that reach my hand:
Murat upon the throne of Italy,
Jerome upon new-born Westphalia,                                                   112
Louis the lord of Holland, and perchance
A kinsman in the Prussian dotard’s place;
And, lower yet, still puppets to my hand,
Saxony, Würtemberg, Bavaria,
The petty principalities and powers,
All smiling up in our hot thunderous air;—
And all the thrones, the kingdoms, and the powers
That break to life beneath them, murmuring
“Hail, King of Europe—Emperor of the West.”

Thus far. Still farther? Driven to the East,
First by fond cunning, afterwards by blows,
The Russian’s eyes bloodshot with greed will watch,
While still our flood-tide inexhaustible
Of Empire washes to the Danube, rolls
Into the Baltic, and with one huge wave
Covers the plains of Poland. Then at last
The mighty Empires of the East and West
Shall clash together in the final blow,                                                  113
And that which loses shall be driven on
To lead the heathen on in Asia,
And that which hurls the other to such doom
Shall be the chosen Regent of the World.

Shall this be so, O Spirit? Pour, O pour—
Yea, let me feast mine eyes upon the wine,
Albeit I drink not. See!—Napoleon,
Waif from the island in the southern sea,
Sun to whom all the Kings of the earth are stars,
Sword before which all earthly swords are straws,
Child of the Revolution, crown and head,
Heart, soul, arm, King, of all Humanity.

O Famulus—in God’s name keep my soul
From swooning to vain-glory. I believe
God, not the other, sends thee, that thy mouth
May fill me with a message for the race,
And purge the peevish and distemper’d world
Of her hereditary plague of Kings.
For Man, I say, shall in due season grow
Back to the likeness that he wore at first,                                            114
One mighty nation peopling the green earth,
One equal people with one King and head,
One Kingdom with one Temple, and therein
No priest, no idol, no dark sacrifice,
But spheric music and the dreamy light
Of heaven’s azure and the changeless stars.                                      [l.vii]
The curse of earth hath been the folly of peace
Under vain rulers, so dividing earth,
That twenty thousand kings of Lilliput
Strutted and fretted heaven and teased the time,
Kept nature’s skin for ever on the sting
Like vermin, and perplex’d humanity
With petty pangs and peevish tyranny,
While the soul sickened of obscure disease,
And the innumerable limbs of state
Moved paralysed, and half earth’s system dead.                               [l.xvii]
Came Revolution like avenging fire;
And in the red flash miserable men
Beheld themselves and wondered—saw their Kings
Still strutting lilliputian in the glare,—                                                   115
And laugh’d till heaven rung,—gave one fierce look
To heaven, and rose. Outraged Columbia
Breath’d o’er the sea, and scorch’d the insolent cheek
Of Albion. Albion paled before the flame.
The darken’d embers faded in the West,
And all was still again; when one mad morn
Men wakening, saw the heights of France afire!
Earth shook to her foundation, and the light
Illumed the hemispheres from west to east,
And men that walk beneath and under us,
Holding their heads to other stars, beheld
The glory flaming from the underworld.
The little Kings of Europe, lily-pale,
Scream’d shrill to one another. Germany
In her deep currents of philosophy
Mirror’d the fiery horror. Russia groaned,
Sheeted in snows that took the hue of blood
Under the fierce reflection. Italy,
Spain and the Tyrol, wild Helvetia,
Caught havoc; and even on the white English crags                            116
A few strong spirits, in a race that binds
Its body in chains and calls them Liberty,
And calls each fresh link Progress, stood erect
With faces pale that hunger’d to the light.
Then, like a hero in his anguish, burnt
Poor gentle Louis, whom the stars destined
To be a barber and who was a King,
And as he flamed and went like very straw,
Earth shriek’d and fever’d France grew raving mad.

Pass o’er the wild space of delirium,
When France upon her stony bed of pain
Raved, screamed, blasphemed, was medicined with blood,
Forgot all issues and the course of time;
And come to that supremer, stiller hour
When, facing these fierce wasps of Kings who flocked
To sting the weary sufferer to death,
I rose and stood beside her, drove them back
So! with a sword-sweep. Those were merry days,                             117
My Spirit! These were spring days, winds of war
Sharp-blowing, but the swallow on the way
Already bringing summer from the south!
Then one by one I held these little Kings
Between my fingers and inspected them
Like curious insects, while with buzz and squeak                               [l.vii]
Their tiny stings were shooting in and out;
And how I laugh’d
To think such wretched vermin had so long
Tortured unhappy Man, and to despair
Driven him and his through infinite ways of woe,
When with one sweep of his great arm, one blow
Of his sharp palm, he might annihilate
Such creatures by the legion and in sooth
Exterminate the breed. O Spirit of Man!
A foolish Titan! foolish now as then,
Guided about the earth like a blind man
By any hand that leads,
And then and now unconscious of a frame                                          118
Whose strength, into one mighty effort gathered,
Might shake the firmament of heaven itself!

Well, we have done this service. We have freed
Earth from its pest of kings, so that they crawl
Powerless and stingless; we have medicined
Desperate disease with awful remedies;                                             [l.vii]
And lo, the mighty Spirit of mankind
Has stagger’d from the sick-bed to his feet,
And feebly totters, picking darken’d steps,
And while I lead him on scarce sees the sun,
But questions feebly “whither?” Whither? Indeed
I am dumb, and all earth’s voices are as dumb—
God is not dumber on his throne. In vain
I would peer forward, but the path is black.
Ay,—whither?

                     O what peevish fools are mortals,
Tormented by a raven on each shoulder,
“Whither?” and “wherefore?” Shall I stand and gape
At heaven, straining eyes into the tomb,                                             119
Like some purblind philosopher or bard
Asking stale questions of the Infinite
Dumb with God’s secret? questioning the winds,
The waves, the stars, all things that live and move,
All signs, all augurs? Never yet hath one
Accorded answer. “Whither?” Death replies
With dusky smile. “Wherefore?” the echoes laugh
Their “wherefore? wherefore?” Of the time unborn,
And of the inevitable law, no voice
Bears witness. The pale Man upon the Cross
Moan’d,—and beheld no further down the Void
Than those who gather’d round to see him die.

Ay,—but the Soul, being weather-wise, can guess
The morrow by the sunset, can it not?                                                120
And there are signs about the path whereon
I guide the foolish Titan, that imply
Darkness and hidden dangers. All these last
I smile at; but, O Soul within my Soul,
’Tis he, the foolish Titan’s self, I fear;
For, though I have a spell upon him now,
And say it, and he follows, any morn
(Awakening from his torpor as he woke
One bloody morn in Paris and went wild),
He may put out his frightful strength again,
And with one mighty shock of agony
Bring down the roof of Empire on my head.
He loves me now, and to my song of war
Murmurs deep undertone, and as he goes
Fondles the hand that leads; but day by day
Must I devise new songs and promises,
More bloody incantation, lest he rouse
And rend me. Oftentimes it seems he leads,
I follow,—he the tyrant, I the slave,—
And it, perchance, were better had I paused
At Amiens, nor with terrible words and ways
Led him thus far, still whispering in his ear                                          121
That he at last shall look on “Liberty.”

Liberty? Have I lull’d him with a Lie?
Or shall the Titan Spirit of Man be led
To look again upon the face of her,
His first last love, a spirit woman-shaped,
Whom in the sweet beginning he beheld,
Adored, loved, lost, pursued, whom still in tears
He yearns for, in whose name alone all Kings
Have led and guided him a space and throve,
Denying whom all Kings have died in turn,
Whose memory is perfume, light and dream,
Whose hope is incense, music, bliss, and tears,
To him whose great heart with immortal beat
Measures the dark march of humanity.
I do believe this shape he saw and loved
Was but a phantasm, unsubstantial, strange,
A vision never to be held and had,
A spectral woman ne’er to be enjoyed;                                              122
But such a thought whisper’d into his ear
Were rank as blasphemy cried up at God.
The name is yet a madness, a supreme
Ecstasy and delirium! All things
That cry it move the tears into the eyes
Of the sad Titan. Echoed from the heights
Of France, it made him mad, and in his rage
He tore at earth’s foundations. Evermore
He turns his suffering orbs upon the dark,
Uplifts his gentle hands to the chill stars,
Pauses upon the path, and in the ear
Of him who leadeth cries with broken voice,
“How long, how long, how long?”

                                               And unto him,
This Titan, I, supreme of all the earth,
Am but a pigmy (let me whisper it!);
And I have won upon him with strange lies,
And he has suffer’d all indignities,
Bonds, chains, a band to blindfold both his eyes,
Patient and meek, since I have sworn at last
To lead him to the trysting-place where waits
His constant love and most immortal bride.                                         123
Still in mine ears he murmureth her name,
And follows. I have led him on through fire,
Blood, darkness, tears, and still he hath been tame,
Tho’ ofttimes shrinking from things horrible,
And on and on he follows even now,
Blindfold, with slower and less willing feet—
I fear with slower and less willing feet—
And still I lead, thro’ lurid light from heaven,
Whither I know not. “Whither!” Oftentimes
My great heart fails, lest on some morn we reach
That portal o’er which flaming Arch is writ,
“All hope abandon ye who enter here!”
And he, perceiving he hath been befool’d,
Will cast me from him with his last fierce breath
Down thro’ the gate into the pit of doom.                                          [l.xvi]

Meantime he follows smiling. O Famulus!
Could I but dream that she, the shape he seeks,
Whom he names Liberty, and gods name Peace,                              124 [l.i]
Were human, could inhale this dense dark air,
Could live and dwell on earth and rear the race,
’Twere well,—for by Almighty God I swear
I would find out a means to join their hands
And bless them, and abide their grateful doom.
But she he seeks I know to be a dream,
A vision of the rosy morning mist,
A creature foreign to the earth and sea,
Ne’er to be look’d upon by mortal soul
Out of the mortal vision. Wherefore still
I fear the Titan. I can never appease                                                  [l.xii]
His hungry yearning wholly. He will bear
No future chains, no closer blindfolding,
And if a fatal whisper reach his ear,
I and all mine are wholly wreck’d and lost.

Yet is this Titan old so weak of wit,
So senile-minded though so huge of frame,
So deaf to warning voices when they cry,                                           125
That, should no angel light from heaven and speak
The mad truth in his ear, he will proceed
Patiently as a lamb. He counteth not
The weary years; his eyes are shut indeed
With a half smile, to see the mystic face
Pictured upon his brain; only at times
He lifteth lids and gazeth wildly round,
Clutching at the cold hand of him that guides,—
But with a whisper he is calm’d again,
Relapsing back into his gentle dream.
O he is patient, and he will await
Century after century in peace,
So that he hears sweet songs of her he seeks,
So that his guides do speak to him of her,
So that he thinks to clasp her in the end.

The end? Sweet sprite, the end is what I fear—
If I might live for ever, Famulus!—
Why am I not immortal and a god?
1 have caused tears enough, as bitter tears
As ever by the rod divine were struck                                                126
Out of this rock of earth. O for a spell
Wherewith to cheat old Death, whose feet I hear
Afar off, for I hate the bony touch
Of hands that change the purple for the shroud!
Yet I could go in peace (since all must go)
So that my seed were risen and in its eyes
I saw assurance of imperial thoughts,
Strength, and a will to grasp the thunderbolt
I leave unhurl’d beside the Olympian throne.
Ah God, to die, and into the dark gloom
Drag that throne with me, to the hollow laugh
Of the awakening Titan! All my peers
Are ciphers, all my brethren are mere Kings
Of the old fashion, only strengthen’d now
By my strong sunshine; reft of that, they die,
Like sunflowers in the darkness. Death, old Death,
Touch me this day, or any dark day soon,
And I and mine are like the miser’s hoard,
A glorious and a glittering pile of gold                                                 127
Changed to a fluttering heap of wither’d leaves.

This must not be. No, I must have a child.
I must be firm and from my bed divorce
The barren woman. Furthermore, to link
My Throne with all the lesser thrones of earth,
I must wed the seed of Kings. Which seed, which child?
Which round ripe armful of new destiny?
Which regal mould for my imperial issue?
Thine, fruitful house of Hapsburg? Russia, thine?
The greater, not the lesser. I must wed
Seed of the Czar, and so with nuptial rites
Unite the empires of the East and West.

Fill, fill, my Famulus, the golden cup
I thirst for; all the peril as I gaze
Hath faded. I no more with fluttering lips
Cry “Whither?” but with hands outstretch’d I watch
Rubily glistening glory. It shall thrive!
King of the West, sowing the seed of Kings!                                      128
First of the Empire of the Golden Age,
The sleeping Titan, and the quiet Sea;
Light of the Lotus and all mortal eyes,
Whose orbit nations like to heliotropes
Shall follow with lesser circle and sweet sound!

CHORUS.

SEMI-CHORUS I.

Form of her the Titan full of patience
Sees amid the darkness of the nations;
Voice of her whose sound in the beginning
Came upon him desolate and sinning;
Face of her and grace of her whose gleaming                                    [l.xi]
Soothes his gentle spirit into dreaming;
Spirit whom the Titan sees above him!

SEMI-CHORUS II.

Gentle eyes that shine and seem to love him!
Tender touch, the touch of her quick fingers,                                      [l.xv]
Touch that reach’d his soul and burns and lingers;                             [l.xvi]
Breath of her, and scent of her, and bliss of her;
Dream of her, and smile of her, and kiss of her!                                 129
Come again, and speak, arid bend above him,
Spirit that came once and seemed to love him.

A VOICE.

         How long, how long?                                                    [note]

SEMI-CHORUS I.

Courage, great heart and strong,
Break not, but beat low chime
To the dark flow of Time;
Follow the path foot-worn,
Sad night and dewy morn,
Under the weary sun
Follow, O mighty one;
Under dim moon and star!

A VOICE.

Whither? How far, how far?

SEMI-CHORUS I.

Spirit of the fathomless abysses,
Spirit that he looked upon and misses,
Free and fair and perfect, more than human,                                      130
Bringing love and peace-gifts like a woman;
Come unto him, listen to his pleading.

SEMI-CHORUS II.

Mark his patience, hear his gentle interceding;
O’er mountain upon mountain left behind thee,
He hath cheerly climb’d in vain to find thee:
Wild waters he hath cross’d, wild sea and river,
All countries he hath traversed, faithful ever,
Ever hoping, ever waiting, never seeing.

CHORUS.

Spirit seen in some long-darken’d being,
Spirit that he saw at the world’s portal,
Saw, and knew, and loved, and felt immortal,
Spirit that he wearies for and misses,
Answer from the fathomless abysses!

                                                                                                                                                                 131

A VOICE.

How long, how long?

SEMI-CHORUS I.

Courage, O Titan strong!
Courage, from place to place
Still follow the voice and the face!

A VOICE.

         Whither?

SECOND VOICE.

                   O hither!                                                            [note]

FIRST VOICE.

                                   Whither?

SEMI-CHORUS I.

Voice of her he follows in dumb pleasure,
Camest thou from the earth or from the azure;
Camest thou from the pastures on the mountains,
From the ocean, from the rivers, from the fountains,
From the vapours blowing o’er him while he hearkens,                       132
From the ocean hoar that beats his feet and darkens,
From the star that on the sea-fringe melts and glistens?

SEMI-CHORUS II.

O homeless voice, he maddens as he listens,
O voice divine, his wild lips part asunder;
He speaketh, and his words are a low thunder.

A VOICE.

Whither, O whither?

SECOND VOICE.

                               Hither!

FIRST VOICE.

Whither? Wherefore, while I wait in patience,
Mock her voice, O voices of the nations;
         Wherefore by night and day,
         Where’er my slow feet stray,
Trouble all hours with wild reverberations.

Mountain winds, ye name her name unto me                                       133
Flowing rivers glance and thrill it thro’ me!
         Earth, water, air, and sky,
         Name her as I go by!
With her dim ghost the floating clouds pursue me!

All of these have seen her face and love her,
Earth beneath and heaven that bends above her;
         The rain-wreck and the storm
         Mimic the one fair form,
The whirlwind knows her name and cries it over.

Flowers are sown by her bright foot wherever
They are flashing past by mere and river;
         Birds in the forest stir,
         Singing mad praise of her;
All green paths know her, tho’ she flies for ever.

CHORUS.

Joy of wind and wave and cloud and blossom,
Pause at last and fall upon his bosom!

                                                                                                                                                                 134

FIRST VOICE.

None behold her twice, but having conn’d her,
While she flashes past with feet that wander,
         Remember the blest gleam,
         And grow by it and dream,
And fondle the sweet memory and ponder.

All have known her, and yet none possess her;
None behold her, yet all things caress her;
         The warmth of her white feet,
         Where it doth fall so sweet,
Abides for ever there, and all things bless her.

Faster than the prophesying swallow,
Fast by wood and sea and hill and hollow,
         Sought by all things that be,
         But most of all by me,
She flieth none know whither, and I follow.

SEMI-CHORUS I.

O wherefore, radiant one,
Under the moon and sun,
Glimmer away?

                                                                                                                                                                 135

SECOND VOICE.

Here on the heights I stay;
Come hither.

FIRST VOICE.

                   Whither?

SECOND VOICE.

                                       O hither!

CHORUS.

Form of her the Titan full of patience
Sees amid the darkness of the nations;
Voice of her whose song in the beginning
Came upon him desolate and sinning;
Face of her and grace of her whose gleaming                                    [l.ix]
Soothes his gentle spirit into dreaming;
Touch of her, the touch of her quick fingers,                                      [l.xi]
Touch that reach’d his soul and burns and lingers;                             [l.xii]
Breath of her, and scent of her, and bliss of her,                               [l.xiii]
Dream of her, and gleam of her, and kiss of her!                               [l.xiv]
Soul beyond his soul, yet ever near it,                                                136
His heart’s home, and haven of his spirit;
Joy of wind and wave and cloud and blossom,
Pause at last, and fall upon his bosom!

END OF THE FIRST PART.

                                                                                                                                                                 137

                                                                                                       [note]

CHORIC INTERLUDE:

THE TITAN.

                                                                                                                                                                 139

CHORIC INTERLUDE.

CHORUS.

STRANGE hands are passed across our eyes,                                     [l.i]
Before our souls strange visions rise
     And dim shapes come and flee.                                                   [l.iii]
The mists of dream are backward roll’d—
As from a mountain we behold
     What is, and yet shall be.

A VOICE.

Speak! while the depths of dreams unfold,
     What is it that ye see?

SEMI-CHORUS I.

’Tis vision. Lo, before us stands,
Casting his shade on many lands,
The mighty Titan, by the sea                                                               140
Of tempest-tost humanity;
And to the earth, and sea, and sky,
He uttereth a thunder-cry
     Out of his breaking heart,
And the fierce elements reply,
     And earth is cloven apart.

SEMI-CHORUS II.

Like sparks blown from a forge, the spheres
Drift o’er us;—all our eyes and ears
     Are full of fire and sound.
With blood about him blown like rain,
We see upon a darken’d plain                                                           [l.xii]
     Another Shape, but crown’d.                                                       [l.xiii]
Silent he waits, and white as death,
     Looks in the Titan’s eyes.
They stand—the black sky holds its breath—
     The deep sea stills its cries,
The mad storm hushes driving past,
The sick stars pause and gaze—the blast,
The wind-rent rain, the vapours dark,
Like dead things crouch, and wait, and hark;
And lo! those twain alone and dumb                                                   141
     Loom desolate and strange.

SEMI-CHORUS I.

Is the time come?

SEMI-CHORUS II.

                             The time is come.

CHORUS.

Titan, to thy revenge!

SEMI-CHORUS I.

O look and listen!
His great eyes glisten,
Like an oak the storm rendeth
He swayeth and bendeth,
With lips torn asunder
He shakes, but no thunder
Comes thence.

SEMI-CHORUS II.

                         While still nigh him,
With smiles that defy him,
The crown’d one is standing,—                                                142
His pale look commanding
A tigress that crouching
Beneath him and touching
     His feet with low cries,
Waits, fiercely betraying
Blood’s thirst yet obeying
     His eyes.

CHORUS.

Is he doom’d?

A VOICE.

                           He is doom’d.

CHORUS.

                                 Oh, by whom?

VOICE.

By the child yet unborn in the womb,
By the dead laid to sleep in the tomb,
He is doom’d, he is doom’d.

CHORUS.

                                     Speak his doom!

                                                                                                                                                                 143

FIRST VOICE.

Napoleon! Napoleon!                                                                      [note]

SECOND VOICE.

                                     Who cries?

FIRST VOICE.

I, child of the earth and the skies,
I, Titan, the mystical birth,
Whose voice since the morning of earth
Hath doom’d such as thou in the end,
Speak thy doom!

SECOND VOICE.

                         Speak! I smile and attend.

FIRST VOICE.

Because thou hast with lies and incantations,
With broken vows and false asseverations,
     For thine own ends accurst,
     Betrayed me from the first,
I speak and doom thee, in the name of nations.

Because I have wander’d like a great stream flowing                          144
From its own channel and thro’ strange gulfs going,
     So that for years and years
     I must retrace in tears
The black and barren pathway of thy showing.

Because one further step after thy leading
Had hurl’d me down to doom past interceding,
     So that I never again,
     In passion or in pain,
Might look upon the face I follow pleading.

Because thou hast led me blind knee-deep thro’ slaughter,
Thro’ fields of blood that wash’d our way like water,
     Because in that divine
     Name I adore, and mine,
Thou hast bruised Earth, and to desolation brought her.

Because thou hast been a liar and blasphemer,                                    145
Deeming me trebly dotard and a dreamer.                                          [l.ii]
     Because thy hand at length
     Would strike me in my strength,
Me, deathless! me, diviner and supremer!

Because all voices of the earth and azure,
All things that breathe, all things curst for thy pleasure,
     All poor dead men who died
     To feed thy bitter pride,
All living, all dead, cry—mete to him our measure.

Because thou hast slain Kings, and as a token
Stolen their crowns and worn them, having spoken
     My curse against the same;
     Because all things proclaim
That thou didst swear a troth, and that ’tis broken.

By her whom thou didst swear under God’s heaven                            146
To find; by her who being found was driven
     O’er earth, air, sky, and sea,
     Thro’ desolate ways by thee,
With voice appealing and with raiment riven!

Because thou hast turned upon and violated
Her soul to whom thou first wert consecrated,
     Because thro’ thy soul’s lie
     And life’s delusion, I
Must wait more ages who have wept and waited

Since the beginning. By the soul of Patience
Sick of thy face and its abominations,
     I speak on thine and thee
     The doom of destiny,
Hear it, and die, hear in the name of nations.

                                                                                                                                                                 147

SEMI-CHORUS I.

Is he doom’d?

SEMI-CHORUS II.

                           He is doom’d. ’Tis the end.

FIRST VOICE.

Napoleon!

SECOND VOICE.

                     Speak! I attend.

FIRST VOICE.

Utter the doom thou dost crave.

SECOND VOICE.

’Tis spoken. A shroud and a grave.

FIRST VOICE.

O voices of earth, air, and sky,
Hear ye his doom, and reply.

VOICES.

Death is sleep. Let him wake and not die.

                                                                                                                                                                 148

FIRST VOICE.

Because by thee all comfort hath been taken,
So that the Earth rocks still forlorn and shaken,
     Staring at the sad skies
     With sleepless aching eyes,
Thou shalt not die, but wait and watch and waken.

This is thy doom. Lone as a star thy being
Shall see the waves break and the drift-cloud fleeing,
     Hear the wind cry and grow,
     Watch the great waters flow,
And seeing all, shine hid from all men’s seeing.

Here on this Isle amid a sea of sorrow
I cast thee down. Black night and weary morrow,
     Lie there alone, forgot,
     So doom’d and pitied not;
Let all things watch thy face and thy face borrow

The look of these mad elements that ever                                           149
Strike, scream, and mingle, sever and dissever;
     Gather from air and sea
     The thirst of all things free,
The up-looking want, the hunger ceasing never.

All shall forget thee. Thou shalt hear the nations
Flocking with music light and acclamations
     To kiss his royal feet
     Who sitteth in thy Seat,
Surrounded by the slaves of lofty stations.

A rock in the lone sea shall be thy pillow.
In the wide waste of gray wave and green billow,
     The days shall rise and set
     In silence, and forget
To sun thee,—a black shape beneath a willow

Watching the weary waters with heart bleeding;                                 150
Or dreaming cheek upon thy hand; or reading
     The book upon thy knee;
     And ever as the sea
Moans, raising eyes to the still heaven, and pleading;                         [l.v]

Till like a wave worn out with silent breaking;
Or like a wind blown weary; thou, forsaking
     Thy tenement of clay,
     Shalt wear and waste away,
And grow a portion of the ever-waking

Tumult of cloud and sea. Feature by feature
Losing the likeness of the living creature,
     Returning back thy form
     To its elements of storm,
Thou shalt dissolve in the great wreck of Nature.

                                                                                                                                                                 151

SEMI-CHORUS I.

Is it done?

SEMI-CHORUS II.

                     It is done.

SEMI-CHORUS I.

                                     Look again.

SEMI-CHORUS II.

I see on the rock in the main
The Shape sitting dark by the sea,
And his shade, and the shade of the tree
Where he sitteth, are pencil’d jet-black
On the bright purple sky at his back;                                                [l.viii]
But lo! while I gaze, from the sky
Like phantoms they vanish and die:—
All is dark.

SEMI-CHORUS I.

                 Look again.

SEMI-CHORUS II.

                                               Hark, O hark!

                                                                                                                                                                 152

SEMI-CHORUS I.

A shrill cry is piercing the dark—
Like the multitudinous moan
Of the waves as they clash, comes a groan
From afar—

FIRST VOICE.

                       What is this, O ye free?

SEMI-CHORUS II.

He has gone like a wave of the sea—
Day dieth, the light falleth red,—
O Titan, behold he is dead! . . .

CHORUS.

Strange hands are passed across our eyes,
Before our souls strange visions rise,
     And dim shapes come and flee;                                                   [l.xi]
The mists of dream are backward rolled—
As from a mountain we behold
     That island in the sea.

                                                                                                                                                                 153

SEMI-CHORUS I.

Now bow thy face upon thy breast,
O Titan, and bemoan thy quest!
O look not thither with thine eyes,
But lift them to the constant skies!

A VOICE.

What do ye see that thus to me
Ye turn and smile so bitterly?

SEMI-CHORUS I.

’Tis vision. On that island bare
Sits one with face divinely fair,
     And pensive smiling lips;
And on her lap the proud head lies,
Pale with the seal on its proud eyes
     Of Death’s divine eclipse;
All round is darkness of the sea,
And sorrow of the cloud.

SEMI-CHORUS II.

                                         Yet she
Is making with her heavenly face
Sweetness like sunlight; and the place
Grows luminous; and the world afar                                                   154
Looks thither as to some new star,
All wondering; and with lips of death
Men name one name beneath their breath,
Not cursing as of yore, for now
All the inexorable brow
Is mouldering marble.

SEMI-CHORUS I.

                                 Hark, O hark,
A silver voice divides the dark!

A VOICE.

Hither, O hither!                                                                              [note]

ANOTHER VOICE.

                               Whither?

FIRST VOICE.

O sweet is sleep if sleep be deep,
And sweetest far to eyes that weep;
He who upon my breast doth creep
Shall close his weary eyes and sleep.

Yet he who seeks me shall not find,                                                    155
And he who chains me shall not bind;
For fleeter-footed than the wind
I still elude all human kind.

Yet when, soul-weary of the chase,                                                   [l.v]
Falleth some man of mortal race,
I pause—I find him in his place,
I pause—I bless his dying face.

Whatsoever man he be,
I take his head upon my knee,
I give him words and kisses three,
Kissing I whisper, “Thou art free.”

O free is sleep if sleep be deep!—
I soothe them sleeping, and I heap
Greenness above them, and they weep
No longer, but are free, and sleep.

O royal face and royal head!
O lips that thunder’d! O eyes red
With nights of watch! O great soul dead,
Thy blood is water, thy heart lead!

They doom’d thee in my name, but see                                               156
I doom thee not, but set thee free;
Balm for all hearts is shed by me,
And for all spirits liberty,

He finds me least who loves me best,
His Soul in an eternal quest
Wails still, while one by one are prest
Tyrants, that hate me, to my breast.

The sad days fly—the slow years creep,
And he alone doth never sleep.
Would he might slumber and not weep.
O free is sleep, if sleep be deep.

                                                                                                       [note]

SECOND VOICE.

Irene!

[Notes:
Page 110: The remaining three parts of ‘Titan and Avatar’ in the revision of The Drama of Kings published as ‘Political Mystics’ in the collections of 1874 (H. S. King), 1884 and 1901 (Chatto & Windus) begin with Buonaparte’s soliloquy and continue with the Chorus sections to the end of Part I.
Buonaparte’s soliloquy has the following title:

II.

THE AVATAR’S DREAM.

(Buonaparte loquitur, at Erfurt.)

Alterations in the 1884 edition of The Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan:
Page 114, l. vii: Of heaven’s mild azure and the changeless stars.
Page 114, l. xvii: Moved paralysed, most inert, or dead.
Page 117, l. vii: Like curious insects, while with buzz and hiss
Page 118, l. vii: Desperate disease with direful remedies;
Page 123, l. xvi: Down through the gate into some pit of doom.
Page 124, l. i: Whom men name Liberty, and gods name Peace,
Page 124, l. xii: I fear this Titan. I can never appease

Page 128: The Chorus section has the following title:

III.

THE ELEMENTAL QUEST.

Alterations in the 1884 edition of The Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan:
Page 128, l. xi: Face and fairest form of her whose gleaming
Page 128, l. xv: Tender touch, the thrill of her sweet fingers,
Page 128, l. xvi: Thrill that reach’d his soul and burns and lingers;
Page 129: ‘A VOICE’ is replaced by ‘THE TITAN’. Subsequently, ‘FIRST VOICE’ is also replaced by ‘THE TITAN’ and this continues for the remainder of this section.
Page 131: ‘SECOND VOICE’ is replaced by ‘A VOICE AFAR’ and subsequently ‘VOICE AFAR’.
Page 135, l. ix: Face and fairest form of her whose gleaming
Page 135, l. xi: Touch of her, the thrill of her quick fingers,
Page 35, l. xii: Thrill that reach’d his soul and burns and lingers;
Page 35, l. xiii: omitted.
Page 35, l. xiv: omitted.

Page 137: The ‘Choric Interlude’ has the following title:

IV.

THE ELEMENTAL DOOM.

Alterations in the 1884 edition of The Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan:
Page 139: ‘CHORUS’ is replaced by ‘CHORUS OF SPIRITS.’
Page 139, l. i: STRANGE hands are passing across our eyes,
Page 139, l. iii: And dim shapes flash and flee.
Page 140, l. xii: We see how on a darken’d plain
Page 140, l. xiii: Stands the Avatar, crown’d.  
Page 143: ‘FIRST VOICE’ is replaced by ‘THE TITAN’ and ‘SECOND VOICE’ is replaced by ‘THE AVATAR.’
Page 145, l. ii: Deeming me triply dotard and a dreamer.
Page 150, l. v: Moans, raising eyes to the still heavens, and pleading:
Page 151, l. viii: On the luminous sky at his back;
Page 152, l. xi: And dim shapes flash and flee;
Page 154: ‘A VOICE’, ‘ANOTHER VOICE’ and ‘FIRST VOICE’ are retained.
Page 155, l. v: But when, soul-weary of the chase,
Page 156: ‘SECOND VOICE’ is replaced by ‘THE TITAN’. ]

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The Drama of Kings continued

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