Where seed is sown, or none, shall dandelionsAnd wretched ragwort vie, orchis and iris
And garish daisy, and for every flower
That 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, 560
Hermes:—he, be he laden howsoe'er,
Will heavier-laden to his lord return.
HERMES (entering).
Mighty Demeter, Mother of the seasons,
Bountiful all-sustainer, fairest daughter
Of arch-ancestral Rhea—to thee Zeus sendeth
Kindly message. He grieves seeing thy godhead
Offended wrongly at eternal justice,
'Gainst destiny ordain'd idly revolting.{69}
Ever will he, thy brother, honour thee
And willingly aid thee: but since now thy daughter 570
Is 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 me
Offended—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. 581
But know, since heav'n denies my claim, I take
Earth for my battle-field. Curse and defiance
Shall shake his throne, and, readier then for justice,
Zeus will enquire my terms: thou, on that day,
Remember them; that he shall bid thee lead
Persephone from Hades by the hand,
And on this spot, whence she was stol'n, restore her
Into mine arms. Execute that; and praise
Shall rise from earth and peace return to heav'n. 590
Her. How dare I carry unto Zeus thy threats?
Dem. Approach him with a gift: this little wallet.
[Giving a little bag of seeds.
I will not see thee again until the day
Thou lead my daughter hither thro' the gates of Hell. [Going. Her. Ah! mighty Queen, the lightness of thy gift Is greater burden than thy weighty words.
[Exeunt severally r. and l.
CHORUS.
(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! 600{70} (2) And great Demeter's bold relentless word To Hermes given, Threatening mankind with dearth. (others) Ay me! alas! alas!— (3 or 1) She in her sorrow strong Fears not to impeach the King of Heaven, And combat wrong with wrong.— (others confusedly) What can we do?—Alas!— Back to our ocean-haunts return To weep and mourn.— 610 What use to mourn?— Nay, nay!—Away with sorrow: Let us forget to-day And look for joy to-morrow:— [(1) Nay, nay! hearken to me!] Nay, how forget that on us too— Yea, on us all The curse will fall.— [(1) Hearken! I say!] What can we do? Alas! alas! 620 (1) Hearken! There's nought so light, Nothing of weight so small, But that in even balance 'twill avail Wholly 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 mind 630 Become to pity inclined, And 'gainst his brother turn. (others) 'Tis well, thou sayest well. (2) Yea; for if Zeus should learn That earth and sea were both combined Against his cruel intent,{71} Sooner will he relent. (others) 'Tis well—we do it—'tis well.— (1) Come let us vow. Vow all with one accord To harden every heart 640 Till 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 lord And seen Persephone restored. (all) We vow—we vow. (1) Come then all; and, as ye go, Begin the song of woe. Song. Close up, bright flow'rs, and hang the head, Ye beauties of the plain, The Queen of Spring is with the dead, 650 Ye deck the earth in vain. From your deserted vale we fly, And where the salt waves mourn Our song shall swell their burd'ning sigh Until sweet joy return.
ACT III
CHORUS.
Song.
Lo where the virgin veilëd in airy beams,
All-holy Morn, in splendor awakening,
Heav'n's gate hath unbarrèd, the golden
Aerial lattices set open.
With music endeth night's prisoning terror, 660
With flow'ry incense: Haste to salute the sun,
That for the day's chase, like a huntsman,
With flashing arms cometh o'er the mountain.{72} Inter se. That were a song for Artemis—I have heard Men thus salute the rising sun in spring— —See, we have wreaths enough and garlands plenty To hide our lov'd Persephone from sight If she should come.—But think you she will come?— If one might trust the heavens, it is a morn Promising happiness—'Tis like the day 670 That brought us all our grief a year ago.— ODE. O that the earth, or only this fair isle wer' ours Amid the ocean's blue billows, With flow'ry woodland, stately mountain and valley, Cascading and lilied river; Nor ever a mortal envious, laborious, By anguish or dull care opprest, Should come polluting with remorseful countenance Our haunt of easy gaiety. For us the grassy slopes, the country's airiness, 680 The lofty whispering forest, Where rapturously Philomel invoketh the night And million eager throats the morn; With doves at evening softly cooing, and mellow Cadences of the dewy thrush. We love the gentle deer, the nimble antelope; Mice love we and springing squirrels; To watch the
