No More Learning

(_Recovering_) Where am I? Ah, and what paths are these I tread?

ADMETUS.
Grievous for all who love thee, but for me
And my two babes most hard, most solitary.

ALCESTIS.
Hold me not; let me lie. --
I am too weak to stand; and Death is near,
And a slow darkness stealing on my sight.
My little ones, good-bye.
Soon, soon, and mother will be no more here. . . .
Good-bye, two happy children in the light.

ADMETUS.
Oh, word of pain, oh, sharper ache
Than any death of mine had brought!
For the Gods' sake, desert me not,
For thine own desolate children's sake.
Nay, up! Be brave. For if they rend
Thee from me, I can draw no breath;
In thy hand are my life and death,
Thine, my beloved and my friend!

ALCESTIS.
Admetus, seeing what way my fortunes lie,
I fain would speak with thee before I die.
I have set thee before all things; yea, mine own
Life beside thine was naught. For this alone
I die. . . . Dear Lord, I never need have died.
I might have lived to wed some prince of pride,
Dwell in a king's house. . . . Nay, how could I, torn
From thee, live on, I and my babes forlorn?
I have given to thee my youth--not more nor less,
But all--though I was full of happiness.
Thy father and mother both--'tis strange to tell--
Had failed thee, though for them the deed was well,
The years were ripe, to die and save their son,
The one child of the house: for hope was none,
If thou shouldst pass away, of other heirs.
So thou and I had lived through the long years,
Both. Thou hadst not lain sobbing here alone
For a dead wife and orphan babes. . . . 'Tis done
Now, and some God hath wrought out all his will.
Howbeit I now will ask thee to fulfill
One great return-gift--not so great withal
As I have given, for life is more than all;
But just and due, as thine own heart will tell.
For thou hast loved our little ones as well
As I have. . . . Keep them to be masters here
In my old house; and bring no stepmother
Upon them. She might hate them. She might be
Some baser woman, not a queen like me,
And strike them with her hand. For mercy, spare
Our little ones that wrong. It is my prayer. . . .
They come into a house: they are all strife
And hate to any child of the dead wife. . . .
Better a serpent than a stepmother!
A boy is safe. He has his father there
To guard him. But a little girl! (_Taking the_ LITTLE GIRL
_to her_) What good
And gentle care will guide thy maidenhood?
What woman wilt thou find at father's side?
One evil word from her, just when the tide
Of youth is full, would wreck thy hope of love.
And no more mother near, to stand above
Thy marriage-bed, nor comfort thee pain-tossed
In travail, when one needs a mother most!
Seeing I must die. . . . 'Tis here, across my way,
Not for the morrow, not for the third day,
But now--Death, and to lie with things that were.
Farewell. God keep you happy. --Husband dear,
Remember that I failed thee not; and you,
My children, that your mother loved you true.

LEADER.
Take comfort. Ere thy lord can speak, I swear,
If truth is in him, he will grant thy prayer.

ADMETUS.
He will, he will! Oh, never fear for me.
Mine hast thou been, and mine shalt ever be,
Living and dead, thou only. None in wide
Hellas but thou shalt be Admetus' bride.
No race so high, no face so magic-sweet
Shall ever from this purpose turn my feet.
And children . . . if God grant me joy of these,
'Tis all I ask; of thee no joy nor ease
He gave me. And thy mourning I will bear
Not one year of my life but every year,
While life shall last. . . . My mother I will know
No more. My father shall be held my foe.
They brought the words of love but not the deed,
While thou hast given thine all, and in my need
Saved me. What can I do but weep alone,
Alone alway, when such a wife is gone? . . .
An end shall be of revel, and an end
Of crowns and song and mirth of friend with friend,
Wherewith my house was glad. I ne'er again
Will touch the lute nor ease my heart from pain
With pipes of Afric. All the joys I knew,
And joys were many, thou hast broken in two.
Oh, I will find some artist wondrous wise
Shall mould for me thy shape, thine hair, thine eyes,
And lay it in thy bed; and I will lie
Close, and reach out mine arms to thee, and cry
Thy name into the night, and wait and hear
My own heart breathe: "Thy love, thy love is near. "
A cold delight; yet it might ease the sum
Of sorrow. . . . And good dreams of thee will come
Like balm. 'Tis sweet, even in a dream, to gaze
On a dear face, the moment that it stays.
O God, if Orpheus' voice were mine, to sing
To Death's high Virgin and the Virgin's King,
Till their hearts failed them, down would I my path
Cleave, and naught stay me, not the Hound of Wrath,
Not the grey oarsman of the ghostly tide,
Till back to sunlight I had borne my bride.
But now, wife, wait for me till I shall come
Where thou art, and prepare our second home.
These ministers in that same cedar sweet
Where thou art laid will lay me, feet to feet,
And head to head, oh, not in death from thee
Divided, who alone art true to me!

LEADER.
This life-long sorrow thou hast sworn, I too,
Thy friend, will bear with thee. It is her due.

ALCESTIS.
Children, ye heard his promise? He will wed
No other woman nor forget the dead.

ADMETUS.
Again I promise. So it shall be done.

ALCESTIS (_giving the children into his arms one after the other_).
On that oath take my daughter: and my son.

ADMETUS.
Dear hand that gives, I accept both gift and vow.

ALCESTIS.
Thou, in my place, must be their mother now.

ADMETUS.
Else were they motherless--I needs must try.

ALCESTIS.
My babes, I ought to live, and lo, I die.

ADMETUS.
And how can I, forlorn of thee, live on?

ALCESTIS.
Time healeth; and the dead are dead and gone.

ADMETUS.
Oh, take me with thee to the dark below,
Me also!

ALCESTIS.
'Tis enough that one should go.

ADMETUS.
O Fate, to have cheated me of one so true!

ALCESTIS (_her strength failing_).
There comes a darkness: a great burden, too.

ADMETUS.
I am lost if thou wilt leave me. . . . Wife! Mine own!

ALCESTIS.
I am not thy wife; I am nothing. All is gone.

ADMETUS.
Thy babes! Thou wilt not leave them. --Raise thine eye.

ALCESTIS.
I am sorry. . . . But good-bye, children; good-bye.

ADMETUS.
Look at them! Wake and look at them!


ALCESTIS.
I must go.

ADMETUS.
What? Dying!

ALCESTIS.
Farewell, husband! [_She dies. _]

ADMETUS (_with a cry_).
Ah! . . . Woe, woe!

LEADER.
Admetus' Queen is dead!

[_While_ ADMETUS _is weeping silently, and the_ CHORUS _veil
their faces, the_ LITTLE BOY _runs up to his dead Mother_. ]

LITTLE BOY.
Oh, what has happened? Mummy has gone away,
And left me and will not come back any more!
Father, I shall be lonely all the day. . . .
Look! Look! Her eyes . . . and her arms not like before,
How they lie . . .
Mother! Oh, speak a word!
Answer me, answer me, Mother! It is I.
I am touching your face. It is I, your little bird.

ADMETUS (_recovering himself and going to the Child_).
She hears us not, she sees us not. We lie
Under a heavy grief, child, thou and I.

LITTLE BOY.
I am so little, Father, and lonely and cold
Here without Mother. It is too hard. . . . And you,
Poor little sister, too.
Oh, Father!
Such a little time we had her. She might have stayed
On till we all were old. . . .
Everything is spoiled when Mother is dead.

[_The_ LITTLE BOY _is taken away, with his Sister, sobbing_. ]

LEADER.
My King, thou needs must gird thee to the worst.
Thou shalt not be the last, nor yet the first,
To lose a noble wife. Be brave, and know
To die is but a debt that all men owe.

ADMETUS.
I know. It came not without doubts and fears,
This thing. The thought hath poisoned all my years.
Howbeit, I now will make the burial due
To this dead Queen. Be assembled, all of you;
And, after, raise your triumph-song to greet
This pitiless Power that yawns beneath our feet.
Meantime let all in Thessaly who dread
My sceptre join in mourning for the dead
With temples sorrow-shorn and sable weed.
Ye chariot-lords, ye spurrers of the steed,
Shear close your horses' manes! Let there be found
Through all my realm no lute, nor lyre, nor sound
Of piping, till twelve moons are at an end.
For never shall I lose a closer friend,
Nor braver in my need. And worthy is she
Of honour, who alone hath died for me.

[_The body of_ ALCESTIS _is carried into the house by mourners;_
ADMETUS _follows it. _]

CHORUS.
Daughter of Pelias, fare thee well,
May joy be thine in the Sunless Houses!
For thine is a deed which the Dead shall tell
Where a King black-browed in the gloom carouses;
And the cold grey hand at the helm and oar
Which guideth shadows from shore to shore,
Shall bear this day o'er the Tears that Well,
A Queen of women, a spouse of spouses.

Minstrels many shall praise thy name
With lyre full-strung and with voices lyreless,
When Mid-Moon riseth, an orbed flame,
And from dusk to dawning the dance is tireless;
And Carnos cometh to Sparta's call,
And Athens shineth in festival;
For thy death is a song, and a fullness of fame,
Till the heart of the singer is left desireless.

LEADER.
Would I could reach thee, oh,
Reach thee and save, my daughter,
Starward from gulfs of Hell,
Past gates, past tears that swell,
Where the weak oar climbs thro'
The night and the water!

SECOND ELDER.
Beloved and lonely one,
Who feared not dying:
Gone in another's stead
Alone to the hungry dead:
Light be the carven stone
Above thee lying!

THIRD ELDER.
Oh, he who should seek again
A new bride after thee,
Were loathed of thy children twain,
And loathed of me.

LEADER.
Word to his mother sped,
Praying to her who bore him;
Word to his father, old,
Heavy with years and cold;
"Quick, ere your son be dead!
What dare ye for him? "

SECOND ELDER.
Old, and they dared not; grey,
And they helped him never!
'Twas she, in her youth and pride,
Rose up for her lord and died.
Oh, love of two hearts that stay
One-knit for ever. . . .

THIRD ELDER.
'Tis rare in the world! God send
Such bride in my house to be;
She should live life to the end,
Not fail through me.

[_As the song ceases there enters a stranger, walking strongly, but
travel-stained, dusty, and tired. His lion-skin and club show him to
be_ HERACLES. ]

HERACLES.
Ho, countrymen! To Pherae am I come
By now? And is Admetus in his home?

LEADER.
Our King is in his house, Lord Heracles. --
But say, what need brings thee in days like these
To Thessaly and Pherae's walled ring?

HERACLES.
A quest I follow for the Argive King.

LEADER.
What prize doth call thee, and to what far place?

HERACLES.
The horses of one Diomede, in Thrace.

LEADER.
But how. . . ? Thou know'st not? Is he strange to thee?

HERACLES.
Quite strange. I ne'er set foot in Bistony.

LEADER.
Not without battle shalt thou win those steeds.

HERACLES.
So be it! I cannot fail my master's needs.

LEADER.
'Tis slay or die, win or return no more.

HERACLES.
Well, I have looked on peril's face before.

LEADER.
What profit hast thou in such manslaying?

HERACLES.
I shall bring back the horses to my King.

LEADER.
'Twere none such easy work to bridle them.

HERACLES.
Not easy? Have they nostrils breathing flame?

LEADER.
They tear men's flesh; their jaws are swift with blood.

HERACLES.
Men's flesh! 'Tis mountain wolves', not horses' food!

LEADER.
Thou wilt see their mangers clogged with blood, like mire.

HERACLES.
And he who feeds such beasts, who was his sire?

LEADER.
Ares, the war-lord of the Golden Targe.

HERACLES.
Enough! --This labour fitteth well my large
Fortune, still upward, still against the wind.
How often with these kings of Ares' kind
Must I do battle? First the dark wolf-man,
Lycaon; then 'twas he men called The Swan;
And now this man of steeds! . . . Well, none shall see
Alcmena's son turn from his enemy.

LEADER.
Lo, as we speak, this land's high governor,
Admetus, cometh from his castle door.

_Enter_ ADMETUS _from the Castle_.

ADMETUS.
Zeus-born of Perseid line, all joy to thee!

HERACLES.
Joy to Admetus, Lord of Thessaly!

ADMETUS.
Right welcome were she! --But thy love I know.

HERACLES.
But why this mourning hair, this garb of woe?

ADMETUS (_in a comparatively light tone_).
There is a burial I must make to-day.

HERACLES.
God keep all evil from thy children!

ADMETUS.
Nay,
My children live.

HERACLES.
Thy father, if 'tis he,
Is ripe in years.

ADMETUS.
He liveth, friend, and she
Who bore me.

HERACLES.
Surely not thy wife? 'Tis not
Alcestis?

ADMETUS (_his composure a little shaken_).
Ah; two answers share my thought,
Questioned of her.

HERACLES.
Is she alive or dead?

ADMETUS.
She is, and is not; and my heart hath bled
Long years for her.

HERACLES.
I understand no more.
Thy words are riddles.

ADMETUS.
Heard'st thou not of yore
The doom that she must meet?

HERACLES.
I know thy wife
Has sworn to die for thee.

ADMETUS.
And is it life,
To live with such an oath hung o'er her head?

HERACLES (_relieved_).
Ah,
Weep not too soon, friend. Wait till she be dead.

ADMETUS.
He dies who is doomed to die; he is dead who dies.

HERACLES.
The two are different things in most men's eyes.

ADMETUS.
Decide thy way, lord, and let me decide
The other way.

HERACLES.
Who is it that has died?
Thou weepest.

ADMETUS.
'Tis a woman. It doth take
My memory back to her of whom we spake.

HERACLES.
A stranger, or of kin to thee?

ADMETUS.
Not kin,
But much beloved.

HERACLES.
How came she to be in
Thy house to die?

ADMETUS.
Her father died, and so
She came to us, an orphan, long ago.

HERACLES (_as though about to depart_).
'Tis sad.
I would I had found thee on a happier day.

ADMETUS.
Thy words have some intent: what wouldst thou say?

HERACLES.
I must find harbour with some other friend.

ADMETUS.
My prince, it may not be! God never send
Such evil!

HERACLES.
'Tis great turmoil, when a guest
Comes to a mourning house.

ADMETUS.
Come in and rest.
Let the dead die!

HERACLES.