ill li 
 
 
 THE MISSIVE 
 
 MAUD MAY PARKER 
 
Class _P^ •:S^i\ 
 Book _. A MA /A 5 
 
 coHYRicirr nEPosrr. 
 
THE MISSIVE 
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM 
 
 MAUD MAY PARKER 
 
 BOSTON 
 The Poet Lore Company 
 Publishers 
 1907 
 
Copynght IQ07 by Maud Mny Parker 
 AU Ai^kts Rescn<ed 
 
 LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
 Iwo Oonics Received 
 
 APP 29 1907 
 
 /.CooynrM Entry 
 cuss /\ XXc, No/ 
 
 COPY D. ' ' . 
 
 ■» I I 
 
 no! 
 
 J /if Gorliam Prfss, Boston 
 
TO 
 Mr HUSBAND 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONAE 
 
 Thcophilus \ Rich Merchant 
 
 Antigone His Wife 
 
 Lysandcr Friend to Theophilus 
 
 Thyrsis \ Slave 
 
 1st Watchman 
 2d Watchman 
 1st Philosopher 
 2d Philosopher 
 A By-stander 
 
 Chorus of citizens returning from the games: 
 
 Priests, Dancers, Weavers of the Peplos, 
 Charioteers, etc. 
 
PART I 
 
 MORNING : Athens, A. D. 75. 
 
 Period of the Pan Athenaeic Festival. 
 
 Scene i. {A large hall, at the centre of the end of 
 which is the sacred fire burning to Hestta. At 
 the other end are marble seats, over which skins 
 are thrown. The floor is of mosaic; and resting 
 upon a leopard skin, in the centre, is a bier upon 
 which lies the body of Cleanthes, the only son of 
 Theophilus and Antigone. 
 
 Kneeling by the bier, luith one arm thrown 
 across the dead child, convulsed with sobs, is 
 Antigone. 
 
 Nearby on a carven couch, Theophilus sits 
 wearily. Standing near the entrance of the 
 hall, which is hung with rich stuffs from 
 Syria, is Thyrsts, the slave boy. This hall 
 opens into a sunny court-yard which is sur- 
 rounded by a marble colonnade. In the ceritre 
 of this court-yard is a fountain playing; and 
 at the entrance is seen a statue of Apollo. 
 
 This entrance leads into a narrow vestibule, 
 at the end of which a door stands open into the 
 street. Through this is seen a great procession 
 winding its ^vay towards the Acropolis. Horse- 
 men and dancers; young girls ivith garlands 
 of roses; men bearing torches; gymnasts and 
 charioteers, on their way to the Pan Athenaeic 
 Festival. 
 
 The Procession of the Peplos.) 
 
Theophilus 
 
 How heavy hanj^s the morn! Dost stand there lad 
 Still gazing through the door that let death in ? 
 Come, draw the curtains Thyrsis. There — didst 
 
 see 
 The Cavalcade in glorious beauty 'neath 
 The mid-day sun, as towards th' Acropolis 
 It wound its joyous way ? Sweet rose-crowned 
 
 girls 
 And bearded athletes; lads with eager steps, 
 All singing life's sweet song — as if there were 
 No death. No death, great Zeus! when he, our 
 
 boy. 
 Our own Cleanthes lies upon yon bier; 
 Wearing his grave-clothes with a smile. — that smile 
 That he was always wont to wear in life! 
 Go, leave us Thyrsis — join the motley throng; 
 Sins thou thine anthem to the great Athene! 
 
 Thyrsis 
 
 My master, I will join it not! — These gods 
 
 Of Greece are naught to me, since Luke told of 
 
 A gentle God, his Hebrew mother once 
 
 Had seen — Who walked with men : who healed the 
 
 sick 
 And raised the dead! — What cares the mighty Zeus 
 For sick or dead, while in the fair white arms 
 Of Hera, lies he sleeping all the while; 
 Or, what the proud Athene in her robe 
 Wove by the maids on the Acropolis! 
 
 6 
 
Antigone 
 
 (Raising herself from the bier.) 
 
 Raised the dead, Thyrsis ? Raised the dead thou 
 say'st ? 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Go, Thyrsis — we will speak of this anon. 
 
 (Exit Thyrsis.) 
 
 (To Antigone.) 
 
 Come, my Antigone; cease thy long sobs; 
 
 Lay thy dear head upon my breast, my wife, 
 
 As thou wast wont to do in the old days ' 
 
 When thou and I were all in all; we two 
 
 Who never thought a third would come with hands 
 
 To hold our hearts within their tender clasp; 
 
 Only to leave a void larger than death. 
 
 Dost mind thee of that day he lisped a word, 
 
 — The tender word of — " Mother " — and content 
 
 He clasped his arms around thy neck, sinking 
 
 His head within the soft curve of thy chin; 
 
 And thou, supreme in thy young Motherhood 
 
 Didst call: 
 
 " Theophilus, already he 
 Has learned the trick of nestling close to me 
 As I to thee! I wonder if he knows 
 The heart-beats throbbing 'gainst his own, as I 
 Do thine ^ 
 
— Come, lay thy head here now, — where thou 
 Canst feel my pulses beating while I speak; 
 l"or I have that to say which thou must hear!" 
 
 Antigone 
 
 (Rising and seating herself by him.) 
 
 Say on, Theophiius, v.liat matters now! 
 
 1 hy heart-beats only hammer out the sound 
 
 — Cleanthes is dead! Is robbed of life's fiow'r 
 
 Before its rosy petals bloomed. How dark 
 
 For him the grave, who never knew the light; 
 
 Who never tasted of life's sweets: for him 
 
 No fair-haired wife to fold him in her arms; 
 
 No prattling babe to climb upon his knee: 
 
 But Hades! — with its portals gaping wide, 
 
 \\ licre cold and pallid forms will take his hand 
 
 And bid him enter to its dark abode; 
 
 And shades, who've known the joy of life, will tell 
 
 Him of its radiant hues, and make the air 
 
 In which he breathes, more dense and ebon still! 
 
 Tiieophilus, if Lucas had been here 
 
 He had not died! Wot you how once before 
 
 Our tender babe was in the vale of death, 
 
 And Lucas cured him with those drops procured 
 
 In Alexandria ? And I, who held 
 
 Him on my knee; feeling each heart-beat by 
 
 Mine ovvn, did watch his sweet breath leaping back; 
 
 Mine own eyes mirrored in his bit of Heaven! 
 
 Theophiius, why didst make Lucas free ? 
 
Theophilus 
 
 Antigone, it was of Lucas that 
 I wished to speak. 
 
 Dost mind thee of that day 
 Long gone; (when thou thyself wast but a child) 
 That coming back from Syria, with silks 
 Most rare and purple dyes, I tarried for 
 A day in Antioch ? — and drav^ing near 
 A well — that I might rest and give unto 
 My camels drink; I saw a slender lad 
 Not taller than Cleanthes now. His hair 
 Was dark and hung in curls about his neck. 
 So much alone I saw, and his bronze limbs 
 Burned to a richer hue by Syrian suns. 
 And as I mused, with half shut eyes, dreaming 
 Of Greece and thee, I saw unmindful of 
 Me, that his right hand traced upon a stone 
 Some imagery. 
 
 Antigone 
 
 Ay, often have I seen 
 Him thus, on some such occupation bent! 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Calling unto the lad (who knelt with such 
 Deep fixity of gaze) to know of what 
 He did perchance: slowly, with thought, he raised 
 His eyes, and Mighty Zeus! — the sun itself 
 
 9 
 
\\ as hid when I IhIicIcI his lace, so hke 
 
 Cireat Phoebus did he seem; wearin}; upun 
 
 His pure while brow, that look oftruth and strength 
 
 Which only Phidias' hand could pivc! — mcihou'^ht 
 
 Too, that his great eyes had a wondrous trick 
 
 or looking;; further than the ;i;<jds could sec: 
 
 — But — simply answered rhoM;:;h the Ind; in sweet 
 
 And gentle accents in his Hebrew ton-rue: 
 
 I trace upon this stone, the likeness of 
 Thy camels. Is aught wrong in that r 
 
 The law 
 Says: 
 
 ' Thou shalt not make unto thee any 
 Likeness,'" 
 
 And I made answer unto him: 
 " Dear lad, I see no v/ronp; but would'st thou lilce 
 To go to fair Aihcna in the land 
 Of Greece ? — I have a garden tliere, rich, with 
 Sweet flow'rs and shrubs of every hue — Myrtle?, 
 Oleanders, and great citron-trees; there thou 
 Canst draw and paint, and listen to the son^ 
 The waves sang to Aegeus long ago! 
 By all the mighty gods! I'll make thee too 
 A man of Physics: for thou hast upon 
 That brow so strong, more than the simj^lc arts 
 Of drawing lines, or wielding brush! 
 
 \\ hat is 
 Thy name ? 
 
 Lucanus, sayst thou ? 
 
 1 will 
 Call thee Lucas, or perchance Luke; and thou 
 Shalt be to me more than my other slaves!" 
 
 10 
 
Antigone 
 
 Methinks we never thought of him as slave; 
 Such was our love for him, and his for us. 
 Oft have I seen him with Cleanthes — 
 
 (Throwing herself on the bier in o 
 
 frenzy of grief) Oh 
 
 Theophilus, our lad, our precious lad! 
 
 {Controlling herself) 
 But go thou on, my tears do break thy tale — 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 {Drawing her away) 
 
 So taking his small hand we found, within 
 The field nearby, his Hebrew mother — On 
 Her lap a babe, and others standing 'round 
 With that sad look of patience which one sees 
 Upon the faces of the young who want. 
 Explaining her my mission, with great tears 
 And sobs, she placed the hand of Lucas in 
 Mine own. 
 
 "Take him — good master and entreat 
 Him well! He is my first born, and my joy. 
 My pride; but burning suns have crisped the fields 
 Of wheat; and we are like to perishing! 
 Perchance the pittance that he leaves, will keep 
 Alive the younger little mouths; and he 
 Will have his fill where all is plenteous 
 The great Jehovah be with thee and him ! " 
 — The rest thou knowest, my Antigone. 
 
 11 
 
Antigone 
 
 Ay, wot I well the day thou brought'st him home; 
 
 — The httle Jewish lad with Greek f;od face! 
 
 A little wistful too, methought he looked 
 
 When I did question him of Antioch; 
 
 And of his mother and his Hebrew gods. 
 
 " Gods! sayest thou ? We have no gods, save 
 
 one; 
 The great Jehovah!" 
 
 Then, with voice, as rich 
 And full as Orpheus' stringed instrument; 
 He did relate a curious tale — learned at 
 His mother's knee — of some small babe, this God 
 Had sent to save the world; — as if a babe 
 Could war against our Mighty Zeus! — and I 
 Did laugh, and pinch him on the ear. " What tale 
 Is this, Lucanus ? Thou wilt soon be grown, 
 With man's nobility and strength: Believest 
 Thou this ? — And more v»ith his great eyes than with 
 His voice, he said: 
 
 " Yea Mistress: — I believe!" 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Years have gone by, and this dear lad has grown 
 To be a man, with flower more mature 
 Than e'en the bud gave hope; pre-eminent 
 In Physics, as in Arts; — yet through the years 
 Accustomed to strange thoughts and wondrous 
 
 12 
 
Dost mind thee of that night our little babe, 
 Our own Cleanthes lay in that deep sleep, 
 When Lucas came and tore him from the jaws 
 Of death, to give him rosy, safe and warm 
 Into thy tender arms ? — Worn with the weight 
 Of anguish I had felt, I sought relief 
 Within the cool crisp night; and wandering through 
 The grove of myrtles, — blooming white beneath 
 The clear, sweet stars; I came upon him. Worn 
 He looked, and well nigh spent; and yet, upon 
 His brow a look of radiance. Stepping near 
 That I might speak such words of thanks as my 
 Poor lips could frame; — I heard him sobbing forth 
 A name, so vibrant in the silver air 
 That all the myrtle-trees, methought, took up 
 The ecstacy of sound; and little waves 
 Upon the beach echoed the name — " Christus!" 
 " Lucas!" I said — and as he heard the call, 
 His tear dimmed eyes met mine; and we, two men, 
 Strong in men's strength, were not ashamed to weep. 
 " Ask what thou wilt," I said " and I will give 
 It thee: — For thou hast saved Cleanthes' life 
 My precious babe — my only born; and thou 
 Thyself, hast been to me not as a slave 
 But as another child!" 
 
 And with great tears: 
 " Theophilus, once thou didst give me life. 
 And more besides, for thou didst nobly add 
 With thine own wisdom, wisdom's crown to mine; 
 And now I ask of thee, the gift of mine 
 Own life, to give again! 
 
 — The call has come 
 And I must needs obey it. — For through long 
 
 la 
 
And weary years, methinks I've heard a voice; 
 
 — As soft and low as mine own Hebrew mother's; 
 
 Saying in sweet and tender tones: — Lucas! 
 
 My own sheep hear my voice and follow me' 
 — Master, I love thee none the less, nor fair 
 Antigone: but give me freedom! Let 
 Me answer the long call; for I must go 
 E'en though it lead me in the way the dear 
 Christ went before! — Perchance, some day, thou too 
 Wilt hear the call." 
 
 And I did answer him: 
 " Not L Lucanus, but go thou, dear lad; 
 Seek you your Christ; the gods will do for me, 
 And my Antigone, and our Cleanthes. 
 One rippling laugh of his is more to me 
 Than all the gods!" 
 
 Antigone 
 
 One rippling laugh! His voice 
 Was like the sound of nightingales within 
 The Ilex-groves; or love-song of the bees 
 Unto the Spring-Anemones! — Never 
 Again to hear that voice! 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Antigone 
 Lean closer love; put thy small hand in mine 
 And thy dear heart upon my heart. Let thy 
 Soul leap as mine to thoughts — new. vivid as 
 The lightning's flash — 
 
 14 
 
Our Cleanthes will live 
 A^ain! The Jewish hahy God has won; 
 — -And with his hand and stretched-out arm has 
 
 fought 
 The fight, and conquered death: Great Pan is 
 
 dead! 
 There is no other God save one; — the Great 
 fchovah and His Son! 
 
 This morning as 
 I sat beside the silent bier of our 
 Beloved one; Thyrsis, with trembling hands, 
 Brought to me words of life. 
 
 — Lucanus sent 
 A many months agone, a treatise writ 
 From Macedonia. (He travels with 
 Gne Paulus — who 'tis said was called to preach 
 The Word in Philippi.) 
 
 Shall we not read 
 The treatise by the bier of our beloved 
 Cleanthes? — It brings life Antigone! 
 
 Antigone 
 
 Read on beloved; — though I see naught but death! 
 
 {Theophtlus produces a scroll of parchment, 
 written in close characters of Greek, Together they 
 approach the bier. With one arm around Antigone, 
 and the other holding the document, he reads.) 
 
 ' "For as much as many have taken in hand to 
 set forth in order a declaration of those things 
 
 15 
 
which are most surely believed amonj* us, even as 
 they delivered them unto us, which from the be- 
 ginning; were eye-witnesses, and ministers of the 
 word, it seemed good to me also, having had perfect 
 understanding of all things from the very first, to 
 write unto thee in order, most excellent Theophilus, 
 that thou mightest know the certainty of those 
 thines wherein thou has been instructed. 
 
 Antigone 
 
 The certainty of those things! Of what things 
 Beloved ? 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Spoke we not a moment gone 
 Of Lucas, and the great God, Christ ? 
 
 Antigone 
 
 I see 
 As through a mist, Theophilus! Read on — 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 (ReaJing) 
 * * * " And in the sixth month, the angel 
 Gabriel was sent from God into a citv of Galilee 
 
 16 
 
named Nazareth, to a virgin espoused to a man 
 whose name was Joseph, of the House of David ; 
 and the virgin's name was Mary " ""^^ * * 
 
 {Hand tn hand, with quickened breath they sit as 
 Theophilus reads through the treatise. The room 
 becomes darkened as the last rays of the "flickering 
 twilight fall upon the face of Cleanthcs. Antigone 
 rises, and with trembling hands, lights the small 
 lamps, that throw a pale glow upon the parchment . 
 Seating herself again; — she speaks:) 
 
 Theophilus, read once again the tale 
 
 Of that dead lad in Nain, Christ brought to life. 
 
 — I almost see the weeping mother now; 
 
 And them that stood beside to comfort her! 
 
 Small comfort could they give to her, who had 
 
 Lost all; as we have O Theophilus! 
 
 — And yet; Luke says there was One who stood by 
 
 Full of compassion who could give nev/ life: 
 
 — Read of that One, beloved, — of that Christ — ! 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 (Reading.) 
 
 * * * " And when the Lord sav/ her, he had 
 compassion on her and said unto her, Weep not 
 * * * And he said Young man I say unto thee 
 Arise. And he that was dead sat up, and began to 
 
 17 
 
Antigone 
 
 l^uke speaks of others too raised tioin the dead! 
 I'hinlc what it meant to Jairus to once inorc 
 Fold close against his heart that loving form; 
 —The little maid who crept into his life. 
 To make the ruler of the Synagogue 
 More human; understanding more the needs 
 Of lesser men and women. 
 
 — Rulers to 
 Rule well, need the warm clasp of baby arms. 
 And plastic touch of childish hands, to mould 
 The sterner metal of their natures to 
 \ pitying love for all humanity — ! 
 fheophilus, how could they crucify 
 Ihat Christ; — The God who raised their dead! 
 
 Theophii.us 
 
 'Twas not 
 Those ones whose dead had telt Christ's smile! 
 
 Luke speaks 
 Of cnvv, malice, and of one false friend 
 Named Judas — Fickle multitudes who first 
 Proclaim Him King; and then condemn: 
 Of Pilate much too weak to stand between 
 This (lod and death. — Yet in the end; death could 
 Not conquer Him who rose again! Dost note 
 The end of this most rare, strange narrative? 
 
 18 
 
" And He led them out as far as Bethany, and 
 He lifted up his hands, and blessed them. And it 
 came to pass, while He blessed them, He was 
 parted from them, and carried up into Heaven." 
 
 Antigone 
 
 (Speaking to herself.) 
 
 "That thou mightest know the certainty!" 
 
 (To Theophilus.) 
 
 Theophilus, I know it now; as thou 
 
 May'st never know! I know the certainty; 
 
 As women know the certainty of their 
 
 Own babe beneath their heart; — who've never seen 
 
 Its tiny face, nor felt its breath of life 
 
 Upon their cheek; and yet they know, ay and 
 
 Love too, that little throbbing, pulsing form. 
 
 Folded so safe and warm within their care. 
 
 Theophilus, I sometimes pity men 
 
 Who only know the certainty of death; 
 
 — They never know the certainty of life! 
 
 That joy God gives unto us mothers; who 
 
 Need such joy to sweeten the wild anguish; 
 
 And make all else of naught avail, but that 
 We have brought forth a child to nestle in 
 Our waiting arms, and make the earth to which 
 He's come, a fairer place in which to live. 
 
 {Rising hurriedly.) 
 19 
 
Haste! haste! Thcophilus — \vc needs must haste! 
 Call thou the lad 'l"h)rsis! 
 
 (Theop/uliis goes out nnJ returns with Tliyrsis.) 
 Thvrsis 
 
 My mistress ? 
 
 Thou callest me 
 
 (| Antigone 
 ^ Ay, Thyrsis. 
 
 a 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 \\ hat wilt thou love ? 
 
 Antigone 
 
 We have much work to do afore the mom! 
 
 — No funeral pyre shall claim our precious hoy; 
 
 And roh us of his merry face; lick his 
 
 Fair curls, which I have polished like to gold 
 
 Around mv Hnger; rend his tender form 
 
 And turn to smoke and ashes those hlue orhs 
 
 Which shone and sparkled like the stars at night! 
 
 Mind ye of that strange Altar on Mars hill; 
 
 — Built vears agone unto the Unknown God ? 
 
 20 
 
Oft have I heard the tale retold, of this 
 
 New God who healed the plague when all the gods 
 
 Of Greece had failed. — This God who cared enough 
 
 For men, to help the sick, and banish death; 
 
 To listen to the wail of Mothers robbed 
 
 Of their first-born: — I see it clear! This God 
 
 It was who sent His Son into the world 
 
 To live the life, and die the death, that we 
 
 Who know what death does mean, may see the sign 
 
 Of His own wondrous love! 
 
 Our precious lad ? 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 — There thou wouldst take 
 
 Antigone 
 
 Ay, love; and lay him like 
 The dear Lord Christ! His tender form will we 
 Anoint with spices rare and ointments sweet; 
 And 'round his dear fair face the finest of 
 White linen bind. 
 
 Perchance in seeing this 
 The Great God, — thinking of His risen Son, — 
 Will tear him from his new made grave, and say 
 To our own little lad, as once He said 
 To him of Nain: 
 
 " Young man I say to thee arise." 
 And then when we have left him there, beneath 
 The shadow of the altar steps — we'll on 
 
 21 
 
— On — to tliat Bethany! For where He rose; 
 A voice within mc tells He'll come again! 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Antigone, thou'rt ri<i:ht; We'll leave all else 
 Behind. — Our gardens and our flowers fair; 
 And the sweet palace by th' ;\cgean Sea! 
 No more for us the nightingales will sing: 
 Nor myrtle trees put forth their fragrance rich; 
 For to us too the call has come! and hand 
 In hand, with but our love for each; we'll turn 
 Our steps towards Bethany! 
 
 Antigone 
 
 Ay, on to Bethany! 
 
 22 
 
PART II 
 
 NIGHT 
 
 Scene I. {A narroiu street. Nearby are seen the 
 city lualls, terminating in a great triumphal 
 Colonnade, — in the centre of zuhich are the 
 massive city gates.) 
 
 A Watchman bearing torch 
 Ho! who appioacheth! 
 
 Second Watchman also with torch 
 
 Who but such an one 
 As thou! Think'st any else walk Athen's streets 
 When all make merry on th' Acropolis ? 
 Pah ! To what uses are v/e put to watch 
 The stones; — the}^ will not steal, nor burn, nor play 
 The wanton! 
 
 First Watchman 
 
 Ho! but yonder one comes with 
 A festive air— as if with goodly victuals 
 He had kept company; or his lips wet 
 With sparkling grapes of jovial Bacchus! 
 
 23 
 
Enter Citizen 
 
 Ho 
 There! ho there! thinkest thou to pass us so? 
 
 Citizen, coming back 
 
 What would'st thou watchman ? 
 
 Both together 
 
 News, fellow! 
 
 First Watchman 
 
 Thlnk'st thou 
 We be as dead as these fire-brands we hold ? 
 
 Citizen 
 Ye do have surly tongues yc rogues! 
 
 Second Watchman 
 
 Why then. 
 If surly, we'll soon mend them, if thou wilt 
 But use thine own for gossiping. 
 
 24 
 
Citizen 
 
 What would 
 
 Ye know ? 
 
 First Watchman 
 
 Of the feast unto Athene; — 
 Wast thou not there from morn until but now ? 
 
 Citizen 
 
 Ay, was I there, since Helios touched with 
 Roseate glow the blue Aegean waves; 
 Changing each azure sea-flower blossom 
 Into a mass of rosy laurel bloom! 
 What shall I tell, and v/here shall I begin ? 
 
 Second Watchman 
 At the beginning, — where else thinkest thou ? 
 
 First Watchman 
 
 Nay, waste not time upon the anthems sung; 
 Anthems are anthems throughout all the v/orld. 
 — Give me but action; and leave all the m.usic 
 Unto the fools and women-folk! 
 
 Begin 
 Thou at the v/restling games; — by all the gods, — 
 I'll wager thee, Lysias could pinion to 
 The ground any in all Athens! 
 
 25 
 
Put up 
 
 Slcond Watchman 
 
 Thy wager! 
 
 First Watchman 
 1 wo staters on Lvsias! 
 
 Second Watchman 
 
 Pah! give a wager something worth — a scorn 
 
 Upon two staters! — I will wager five 
 
 On Pentheus — hast seen him r Strong and haid 
 
 As any lion's whelp; with muscles firm 
 
 As coils of polished steel. 
 
 First Watchman 
 
 Ha! what is steel 
 When one encounters Hercules ? I tell 
 Thee, man, he had no showing! 
 
 Second Watchman 
 
 And I sa\' 
 Ilr h;,d! 
 
 20 
 
First Watchman 
 
 (Dratus his sword.) 
 And I say he had not — villain! 
 Take that! 
 
 Second Watchman 
 
 (Drawing his sword.) — 
 And thou that! 
 (They both lean their torches against the wall and 
 start fighting.) 
 
 Citizen 
 
 Peace men! — how can I 
 Tell ye of the most mighty games; when ye 
 Do meet each other in embroilment ? 
 
 First Watchman 
 
 I 
 
 Care naught for the games; — I say Lysias won! 
 
 Second Watchman 
 
 And I say Pentheus, thou knave! ho help! 
 
 Help here! ho help! — Thou takest my life's blood! 
 
 (They pass on fighting, Citizen trying to separate 
 them.) 
 
 27 
 
(Enter Thcophilus and Antigone.) 
 
 Antigone 
 
 Was not the place most wondrous fair, mine own 
 Theophilus ? Methou2;ht the earth seemed warmer 
 tor its precious burden; — throhbinp; with joy 
 To hold his tender form; and little buds 
 Did burst in snowy bloom to match their whiteness 
 With his own! 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Ay, mine own Antigone; 
 Earth never seemed so fair, so grand in her 
 Maternity; as when she stretched her all 
 Embracing arms, to take from thine our own 
 Beloved one! 
 
 — Dear love, to-night I had 
 A vision strange and wondrous sweet: 
 
 From on 
 The sunmiit of that star-crowned hill, as far 
 As eye could see or thought could reach; I saw 
 I he temples of our pagan gods, — with their 
 Rich balustrades and colonnades, blooming 
 So white beneath the rising moon, — droop as 
 A flow'r that has fulfilled its life; or as 
 A rose from whence the perfume's gone, before 
 The budding of this new white bloom — this Christ, 
 Who builds His temples in our hearts; and draws 
 From them the sweetest incense of our praise! 
 
 28 
 
And from the sod, above our little lad, 
 I seemed to see the lilies growing tall; 
 — Great seeds of our own faith, Antigone, 
 Planted by us, and spreading o'er all Greece! 
 
 Antigone 
 Ay, love, Athens' first Christian grave! 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 But soft, 
 — Some one approaches. 
 
 Stand thou here, while I 
 Go yonder by the Eastern Gate. — Perchance 
 'Tis but some reveller from the games: Fain would 
 I shield thy wounded heart from rough conflict! 
 
 (He goes and looks, — then returns.) 
 
 Ay, as I said; only 'tis more than one — 
 — The night is further spent than e'en I thought; 
 And with the passing of the midnight hour 
 Comes back the half of Athens from the Feast; 
 Making our sorrow, and our new found faith, 
 A mockery! 
 
 Come here, dear love, we'll hide 
 Us in the shadows of the colonnade. 
 — I know thou mother sheep, e'en though thou hast 
 Found peace, art bleating for the little lamb. 
 
 29 
 
{They stand aside while from the distance is 
 heard rnustc, which gradually grows louder. The 
 torch bearers approach, carrying long burning 
 brands, followed by Priests chanting; then the women 
 bearing baskets in which are seen the implements 
 which were used at the sacrifice during the morning. 
 Then flower girls and dancers. The successful 
 competitor m the musical contest, crowned with a 
 golden crown; followed by the olive-wreathed /Athlete, 
 carrying a large Greek urn filled with the sacred oil. 
 Afore torches, charioteers, etc., a medley of light, color 
 and music.) 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Hail! O ye children of Athens; our joy in the day 
 
 is complete; 
 Royal in garments of splendor, with gold and with 
 
 jewels replete, 
 Stands she, Athene, the blessed, with gifts of our 
 
 love at her feet. 
 
 Robed in a Peplos of saffron; of cobwebs and lillies 
 
 its weave, 
 Broidered in pearls, the old legends of heroes and 
 
 gods on her sleeve. 
 Goddess of strength and of wisdom; our incense 
 
 and praise doth receive. 
 
 Daughter of Zeus, the Supreme One; Sovereign in 
 
 power and might. 
 Wielder of spear to the war song. — In peace the 
 
 great donor of light. 
 Aegis and spear are beside her, with olive and 
 
 myrtle bedight. 
 
 30 
 
Priests Chanting 
 
 Slain are the sheep and the oxen; poured over the 
 
 Altar is wine; 
 liurning are myrrh and sweet aloes, and hundreds 
 
 of torches outshine 
 Luna's great orb of the midnight. All hail to the 
 
 Goddess divine! 
 
 A Bystander 
 
 Who wears the wreath of the victor ? Who carries 
 the urn with the oil ? 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Lysias, bom but to triumph, with sinews and 
 
 muscles that coil 
 Firm 'round the form of a rival; his nerve and his 
 
 strength to despoil! 
 
 A Bystander 
 
 Who read the lays of our Homer ? Who danced to 
 
 the lute and the lyre r 
 Who rode the fierce steed of Sparta ? Who sang, 
 
 the gold crown to acquire ? 
 
 31 
 
Chorus 
 
 Cadmus and Cleon the crowned ones; Behold ye 
 the victors' attire! 
 
 Cadmus has won tor his Sparta, the cloak of a 
 warrior bold; 
 
 On his broad back hangs the Palliuin; its sumpt- 
 uous lengths do enfold 
 
 All his great form in its beauty; with tassels and 
 trimmings of gold. 
 
 Cleon, the sweetest of singers with voice like to 
 
 Orpheus* own, 
 Burnished with silvery laughter, and deepened by 
 
 life's undertone. 
 Song bird of Athens, we hail thee, and place on th)- 
 
 brow the great crown! 
 
 Song of the Dancers 
 
 We've danced to the sound of the cymbals clash; 
 We've swayed to the tones of the harps of gold; 
 With pulses fierce beating and eyes that flash, 
 With passion grown dim as a tale long told. 
 O joy for the throbbings of mad desire! 
 O sad is the rhythm of hearts grown old! 
 
 Weavers of the Peplos 
 
 Tender, gentle maidens we; 
 Spotless in our purity. 
 
 82 
 
Of a ray of pale moon beam, 
 
 And a lily's breath, did seam 
 
 Into vesture, to adorn 
 
 Her we've crowned this joyous morn! 
 
 First Philosopher 
 
 What mummery is this the people shout ? 
 — Think you a carven stone with hair of gold, 
 And eyes of polished gems, could harken to 
 The tumult of their cheers and songs of praise ? 
 
 Second Philosopher 
 
 Sh — sh — speak but softly; — Greece is Greece this 
 
 day 
 As 'twas when Socrates the hemlock drank 
 Four hundred years agone. It brooks not of 
 A thought outspoke — but clings to beauteous form 
 And color of the fruit, — the more the seed 
 Is rotten at the core! 
 
 First Philosopher 
 
 Of them do I 
 Fear naught, life is but life to me, with skies 
 Of blue, and twinkling stars and golden wine, — 
 And death! And after death — who knows! — who 
 knows ? 
 
 33 
 
Good friends, is it of death ye speak; or does 
 My mind but echo words engraven on 
 My beating heart ? — Or as, when we have Iain 
 Us down to rest, and sleep has closed our care — 
 Worn eyes; each thought, wliich seemed so sweet 
 
 beneath 
 I he shining sun, becomes distort, and like 
 An hydra-headed monster, sears and burns 
 Us with its fierv breath. 
 
 Second Philosopher 
 
 What ails thee man ? 
 
 Lysander 
 
 Hast thou not heard how grief has come, to lay 
 
 Its clammy hand upon Theophilus ? 
 
 Sit at his hearth, and stare forever out 
 
 His young wife's eyes. — Be with their waking 
 
 thoughts 
 And their good night ? 
 
 Second Philosopher 
 
 Ay, I have heard his son 
 Was dead; but all must die — wherefore not now? 
 
 34 
 
Voice in the Crowd 
 
 Who talks of death, to-night of all nights ? — Pah! 
 Thy very garments reek of funeral pyres; 
 And thy long face doth give but insult to 
 Our merry-making — Tra la! old long face! 
 
 First Philosopher 
 
 Lysander, come with us — ^we are not gay 
 — But may perchance enliven thy sad heart! 
 
 Lysander 
 
 Nay, go ye on! — when all this surging crowd 
 Have passed, I'll take my heart-ache to my friend's 
 Sore heart; and share with him his grief, e'en as 
 I have his joy. 
 
 {They all move on. As the last dancer disap- 
 pears in the distance, far off sounds of the chorus are 
 heard.) 
 
 Hail — O — ye — children — of — 
 
 Lysander 
 
 {Speaking to himself). 
 
 At last, they're gone! — Theophilus, I would 
 I could thy sorrow take: Ye gods! — To think 
 
 35 
 
With all our love, when grief comes, we only 
 Can stand, and see it waste, and sear, and burn; 
 And we, who'd gladly give our lives, can with 
 Our faltering speech but show the fragments of 
 Our pity. 
 
 (Theophilus and Antigone approach.) 
 
 Theophilus 
 Lysander! Thou! 
 
 Lysander 
 
 Ay, Theophilus, J 
 
 I have but heard thy sorrow and Antigone's, 
 And with my hastening steps to thee, do seek 
 The threshold of thy grief; to hold unto 
 My heart thy pain, e'en as before I've held 
 The little lad. 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Good friend, I thank thee from 
 My heart, but now 'tis not for me to bid 
 Thee enter there; — the door is closed, and in 
 That hour of travail known to Antigone 
 And me, was born a twin unto our pain. 
 — It wears the form of our loved child, but has 
 The lineaments of One, Lucanus spoke 
 
 36 
 
Of in his dreams. We call this new-sent babe, 
 Born of our anguish and despair, — " God's faith "- 
 Some day we'll share that with thee too, as we 
 Have shared Cleanthes love: — only not now; 
 This babe is small and young, and we must needs 
 Tend it. 
 
 We go to-night to Bethany! 
 
 Lysander 
 Theophilus, has grief made thee distraught ? 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Nay, friend, — methinks 'tis but now I am sane. 
 Dost mind thee of my freedman, Luke ? 
 
 Lysander 
 
 Ay, as 
 Of one to dream dreams and see visions — What 
 
 Of him ? {Turning to Antigone) 
 
 Antigone, what means he, has 
 My friend gone mad ? 
 
 Antigone 
 
 If mad, we both are; and 
 Such madness I would wish for thee. — Such joy 
 
 37 
 
In pain! I'd gladly see thee stoop to drink 
 
 Life's chalice to the utmost brim; if in 
 
 Its dregs thou too could'st find the honey mixed 
 
 Therewith! Lucanus was our slave, but now 
 
 'Tis he who's made us debtors unto him — 
 
 — If in his visions he could pierce beyond 
 
 The veil into the great white light; 
 
 — So in his dreams, he has shown us a star 
 
 Whose beams can light the world; and sing a new 
 
 Song to our hearts. 
 
 Lysander 
 
 And is there aught beyond ? 
 
 Ay. life! 
 
 Antigone 
 
 Lysander 
 
 I understand ye not, and yet, 
 I see a pow'r that worketh in ye which 
 I know not of. 
 
 — Ye speak of leaving Athens! 
 That do I understand. — Must this new faith 
 Make us as strangers ? 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Nay, friend — we will write 
 — Perchance will send Lucanus, or this Paul 
 He travels with; whose fame indeed has reached 
 
 38 
 
To wondrous lengths, when we do hear his name 
 From Antioch, as in a trail of light. 
 To Philippi. — I hear 'tis even said 
 He'll visit Athens ere the next Olympiad. 
 
 Lysander 
 
 Perchance; all some time visit Athens. — But 
 Of Luke ? 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 I'll leave his missive in thy hands. 
 — May it but give to thee, the hope — the faith 
 — The Christ — e'en as it gave to us. Then w^ill 
 We be as brothers. Now as friends — farewell! 
 
 Lysander 
 
 Farewell, dear friends! The gods be with ye! If 
 
 mad, 
 I too would share thy madness: if to me 
 Could come such faith as I now do look on! 
 
 3^ 
 
ONE HOUR LATER 
 
 Scene 2. {Shipboard — with view of harbor. On 
 the left tn the distance, are seen the lights upon 
 the Acropolis. On the right is the Sacred 
 Island of Elis, from whence can be seen the 
 Statue of Victory y and the Golden Shield hanging 
 beneath it upon the Temple of /jCus, standing 
 out bright and clear in the moon-light.) 
 
 {Enter Theophilus assisting Antigone.) 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Courage, dear love! — one step the more, and we 
 Have cut our old life as Atropos doth 
 Her thread. Henceforth we are as far removed 
 As if we'd even lain us down to die; 
 
 And wakened in that new and perfect life 
 Lucanus told us of beyond the grave. 
 
 Antigone 
 
 I need not courage, love, for I am strong. 
 
 — Stronger than thou, Theophilus! So oft 
 
 I've felt our little babe upon my heart 
 
 That I can feel him now; only he's grown 
 
 To be a lad, and I can see his face, 
 
 And hear his merry laugh, and feel his lips 
 
 On mine, and kiss his precious curls like gold! 
 
 — We've lain him 'neath the stars upon Mars Hill; 
 
 40 
 
But in my mother's heart, I fold him still, 
 
 Wait and content me, 'till this new-found Christ 
 
 Shall give him to mine empty arms again. — 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Antigone, could'st bear such joy ? Would not 
 Thy wounded heart burst of its own rapture, 
 And all the precious wine drops spill from out 
 The overflowing chalice of thy love ? 
 
 Antigone 
 
 Nay, God would not allow it so! Somehow 
 Methinks the Christ who gave me back my dead 
 Could still my pulses beating ere they leaped 
 Beyond their bounds. — Dost think that Mother, in 
 The far off Nain, did fall before her gift 
 Of wondrous love; and in her agony 
 Of joy, could not unto her bosom hold 
 Her son ? You know not mothers yet, beloved! 
 Theophilus, this much I know; all hearts 
 Of mothers beat the same, and what He said 
 To her. He'll say to me, somehow — somewhere 
 — And we can wait, knowing this well, that if 
 Our little lad comes not to us again, 
 Then we can go to him — beyond the stars! 
 Theophilus, hearest thou aught besides 
 The wind upon the sea ? It hath the sound 
 Of far-off weeping, — None must weep to-night 
 — Our new birthnight! Do any sail with us ? 
 
 41 
 
Thlophilus 
 
 Na)', love, none but rhe Captain and his mates; 
 We've taken sail upon a merchant ship 
 For Joppa bound. — We carry thither stores 
 Of honey, citrons, limes and luscious figs; 
 Besides, have we the little barley cakes 
 None know so well the mixing of, as we 
 Of Athens. 
 
 Antigone 
 
 Hark! I hear it still — it is 
 A voice. — A human cry! 
 
 (Thyrsis rushes out from where he ts hidden and 
 throws himself on his knees.) 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Thyrsis! Thou lad .' 
 
 Thyrsis 
 My master — mistress! 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Lad, how cam'st thou here ? 
 
 42 
 
Thyrsis 
 
 Master, forgive, — I could not stay behind; 
 
 — The God who called to thee must need me too! 
 
 I know I am a simple lad — thy slave; 
 
 But will He not look down upon a slave ? 
 
 This morn, when thou didst send me from thy side, 
 
 For grief I threw me by the colonnade, 
 
 And heard thee read Luke's missive; and I thought 
 
 That Simeon in the Temple, as he held 
 
 The little God-sent Babe within his arms, 
 
 Meant me, as well as thee, when he did speak 
 
 Those words of prophesy to all the world. 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Thyrsis, thou'rt right; the light was meant for thee 
 
 E'en as for us! 'Tis not for me to bid 
 
 Thee stay. — Thou could'st not now e'en though 
 
 thou would'st. 
 Look lad, how far we've left the shore behind! 
 
 {Thyrsis goes to the side of the vessel and gazes 
 in wonderment. Theophilus turns to Antigone.) 
 
 See, love, the lights grow dim upon the Parthenon; 
 And we approach the sacred Isle of Zeus : 
 Look how the moon doth like a white dove's wing 
 Bespeak of peace upon the sleeping Elisl 
 Soon, with the rising sun, will wake to life 
 Once more the nodding grain. — The sheep will 
 stretch 
 
 43 
 
Their limbs and seek to find green pastures and 
 
 The coohng streams — The lambs will gambol on, 
 
 And frisking back, will press their noses cool 
 
 Against the warm full udders waiting them. 
 
 Then will there cease the lusty song, the frog 
 
 In ecstacy doth sing unto his mate; 
 
 To sound once more the droning of the bee, 
 
 As from the almond tree she flits about 
 
 And in her tiny pouch the seed of life 
 
 Doth take, with love, unto the budding flow'r. 
 
 — The grapes will purple on the hanging vines: 
 
 And limes, in yellow splendor, like to balls 
 
 Of gold, will pendant be from laden trees; 
 
 — Yet will we not be there, nor see again! 
 
 Antigone 
 
 Nay, but we know a peace they know not of 
 Upon that Isle, known as the land of Peace! 
 See how, dear love, the moon already wanes. 
 And weary doth appear of keeping watch; 
 Her lustrous mantle folds she down and sinks 
 To sleep beneath the ever sleepless waves. 
 How shine the stars in all their glory bright! 
 Didst ever see such wondrous sheen before ^ 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 'Tis not the stars, Antigone, but thine 
 Own hope! 
 
 Dost mind thee of that day when first 
 
I held thee in mine arms as I do now, 
 
 My fluttering bird ? — Thou wast so young, so frail 
 
 So fair, and I so like a Titan in 
 
 My strength: — I kissed thee on thy hands, thy brow 
 
 And on thy rosy lips so close to mine. 
 
 — I pressed thy lids down o'er thy violet eyes 
 
 Until thy golden head sank with its weight 
 
 Of love upon my breast; and we who'd held 
 
 Life's crown, wore it with beating hearts. Then 
 
 thou 
 Didst raise thine eyes until their depths met mine, 
 Then higher still, until they reached unto 
 The arching skies: 
 
 "How blue the heavens seem 
 Theophilus!" 
 
 Love, I did laugh for joy. 
 And hold thy hands, as little rose-buds crushed 
 Within mine own! 
 
 Life is but ever like 
 An Hyacinthus stone; and changes tint 
 With every fickle mood the day doth wear; 
 — When all is bright, so tender blue it shines, 
 And yet to ashy gray becomes, when clouds 
 Are overcast, and rain-drops fall. But when 
 Love comes! — it paints upon the sky, the pure 
 And changeless sapphire hue, in token of 
 Its constancy. 
 
 The sky is always blue 
 For Love; — as Hope doth make the stars to shine! 
 
 Antigone 
 
 The which is greater then, beloved, Love 
 Or Hope? 
 
 45 
 
Theophilus 
 
 Methinks the twain could scarcely live 
 Apart; and yet they need a third to make 
 The crown complete. 
 
 Antigone 
 
 God's Faith ? 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Ay love, God's Faith. 
 
 {To Thyrsis.) 
 
 Didst bring thy harp lad } Sing to us a song 
 Attune to our own hearts, and to the stars. 
 — Oft have I heard thee, when thou knew'st it not, 
 Speak all thy soul unto the answering strings. 
 
 Thyrsis 
 
 Master, my songs are simple things: — I tune 
 The music to the words, as one by one, 
 Thev fall as beads from off a loosened thread. 
 
 {He strikes the harp and sings.) 
 
 O Gracious Star 
 
 That on that sleeping town did shine; 
 
 And from afar 
 
 Lead wise men to the Babe divine, 
 
 O star of Faith, enlight my life with sparks of thine! 
 
 Star of the Morn 
 
 46 
 
That sends its beams adown the years, 
 And doth adorn 
 
 With splendor this dark world of fears 
 O star of Hope, pierce with thy light this vale of 
 tears! 
 
 Star of the Eve 
 
 That glows upon the passing day; 
 
 And doth relieve 
 
 The ebon night by thy first ray, 
 
 O star of Love, be to my night a torch alway! 
 
 Stars of the Night, 
 
 Into a wreath I'll bind ye three; 
 
 Great sheaves of light 
 
 Tied with God's love and truth for me, 
 
 O stars of Night, crown me with your own purity! 
 
 {Thyrsis drops the harp, and stands gazing into 
 the sea. Over the mountains the sun rises in all the 
 beauty that only the South-land knows.) 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 Behold the morn! How like unto a wheel 
 Of fire the sun doth shape himself in all 
 His glory; — throwing out his rays like spokes 
 Of flame upon Hymettus! Sending on 
 Before, no heralds in the shape of clouds 
 Nor rosy tinted sky; but like a king 
 Beloved by all, doth ride in majesty 
 
 47 
 
Alone. He knows the joyous welcome of 
 
 The South; he knows the throbbing earth will lifr 
 
 Her moist lips to his passion kiss. — See how 
 
 Already lights the mountain top, and as 
 
 A bride doth blush within his warm embrace, 
 
 — So doth the new day rise for us, beloved! 
 
 Antigone 
 
 Farewell Hymettus— Mountain loved of Greece! 
 The blue Aegean sweeps thine emerald shores 
 And thou wilt always hear her lapping waves. 
 She casts her little pebbles on thy beach; 
 — Her children, born of the great rocks, and her 
 Own strength. Her sea-flow'rs wed thy springing 
 
 buds 
 And bring to life the sweet anemones. 
 — But us she washes from thy sight, and on 
 Her mighty bosom bears us hence. — Farewell. 
 
 Thyrsis 
 
 And yet God's sun which warms thee with his rays. 
 
 Will be a light to us, and lead us on; 
 
 — Guide us like children to that holy land 
 
 — Even to Bethany! 
 
 Antigone 
 
 To Christ! 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 To God! 
 48 
 
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