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PLAYS
AND
LYRICS
BY
CALE YOUNG RICE
LONDON
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
27 PATERNOSTER ROW
NEW YORK: MCCLURE PHILLIPS & CO.
44 EAST TWENTY-THIRD STREET
1906
UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED. PRINTERS, WOKING AND LONDON.
To
IDA M. TARBELL
WITH FAITHFUL FRIENDSHIP
PREFACE
This volume contains "Yolanda of Cyprus," a hitherto unpublished play; many new lyrics; some others that appeared in "Song-Surf," a volume whose publishers failed before it reached the public; and "David," which came out in America in 1904. The author's desire has been to include only his best work.
CONTENTS
PAGE YOLANDA OF CYPRUS 1
LYRICS—DRAMATIC:—
JAEL 91 MARY AT NAZARETH 96 OUTCAST 98 ADELIL 100 THE DYING POET 102 ON THE MOOR 105 HUMAN LOVE 107 O GO NOT OUT 108 CALL TO YOUR MATE, BOB-WHITE 110 TRANSCENDED 112 THE CRY OF EVE 113 THE CHILD GOD GAVE 116 MOTHER-LOVE 118 ASHORE 120 LOVE'S WAY TO CHILDHOOD 122 LISSETTE 123 TEARLESS 125 THE LIGHTHOUSEMAN 126 BY THE INDUS 128 FROM ONE BLIND 130 AT THE FALL OF ROME, A.D. 455 131 PEACELESS LOVE 133 SUNDERED 134 WITH OMAR 135 A JAPANESE MOTHER (IN TIME OF WAR) 144
LYRICS—NON-DRAMATIC:—
SHINTO (MIYAJIMA, JAPAN, 1905) 146 EVOCATION (NIKKO, JAPAN, 1905) 148 THE ATONER 150 INTIMATION 151 IN JULY 152 FROM ABOVE 154 SONGS TO A. H. R.:—
I. THE WORLD'S AND MINE
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155 II. LOVE-CALL IN SPRING 156 III. MATING 157 IV. UNTOLD 158 V. LOVE-WATCH 159 VI. AS YOU ARE 160 VII. AT AMALFI 161 VIII. ON THE PACIFIC 163 THE WINDS 165 THE DAY-MOON 167 TO A SINGING WARBLER 169 TO THE SEA 170 THE DEAD GODS 172 AT WINTER'S END 175 APRIL 176 AUGUST GUESTS 177 AUTUMN 178 THE WORLD 179 TO THE DOVE 180 AT TINTERN ABBEY 182 THE VICTORY 184 SEARCHING DEATH'S DARK 185 SERENITY 187 TO THE SPRING WIND 188 THE RAMBLE 189 RETURN 192 THE EMPTY CROSS 194 SUNSET-LOVERS 196 TO A ROSE (IN A HOSPITAL) 198 UNBURTHENED 199 WHERE PEACE IS DUTY 201 WANTON JUNE 202 AUTUMN AT THE BRIDGE 204 SONG 205 TO HER WHO SHALL COME 206 AVOWAL TO THE NIGHTINGALE 208 STORM-EBB 210 SLAVES 212 WAKING 213
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FAUN-CALL 214 LINGERING 216 STORM-TWILIGHT 217 WILDNESS 218 BEFORE AUTUMN 219 FULFILMENT 221 TO THE FALLEN LEAVES 223 MAYA (HIROSHIMO, JAPAN, 1905) 224 SPIRIT OF RAIN (MIANOSHITA, JAPAN, 1905) 226 THE NYMPH AND THE GOD 227 A SEA-GHOST 228 LAST SIGHT OF LAND 230 SILENCE 231
DAVID 233
DAVID 233
YOLANDA OF CYPRUS
CHARACTERS
Renier Lusignan A descendant of the Lusignan kings of Cyprus. Berengere His wife. Amaury His Son, Commander of Famagouste under the Venetians. Yolanda The Ward of Berengere, betrothed to Amaury. Camarin A Baron of Paphos, guest in the Lusignan Castle. Vittia Pisani A Venetian Lady, also a guest. Moro A Priest. Hassan Warden of the Castle. Halil His Son, a boy. Tremitus A Physician. Olympio A Greek boy, serving Amaury. Alessa Berengere's Women. Maga Civa Mauria Smarda Slave to Vittia. Pietro In Vittia's pay. Priests, acolytes, etc. Time—The sixteenth century. Place—The island of Cyprus.
[Pg 4]
[Pg 5]
ACT I
Scene: A dim Hall, of blended Gothic and Saracenic styles, in the Lusignan Castle, on the island of Cyprus near Famagouste. Around the walls, above faint frescoes portraying the deliverance of Jerusalem by the Crusaders, runs a frieze inlaid with the coats-of-arms of former Lusignan kings. On the left, and back, is a door hung with heavy damask, and in the wall opposite, another. Farther down on the right a few steps, whose railing supports a Greek vase with jasmine, lead through a chapel to the sleeping apartments. In the rear, on either side, are guled lattice windows, and in the centre an open grated door, looking upon a loggia, and, across the garden below, over the moonlit sea. Seats are placed about, and, forward, a divan with rich Turkish coverings. A table with a lighted cross-shaped candlestick is by the door, left; and a lectern with a book on it, to the front, right. As the curtain rises, the Women, except Civa, lean wearily on the divan, and Halil near is singing dreamily,
Ah, the balm, the balm,
And ah, the blessing
Of the deep fall of night
And of confessing.
Of the sick soul made white
Of all distressing:
Made white!...
Ah, balm of night
And, ah the blessing!
And ah, the blessing
Of the deep fall of night
And of confessing.
Of the sick soul made white
Of all distressing:
Made white!...
Ah, balm of night
And, ah the blessing!
The music falls and all seem yielding to sleep. Suddenly there are hoof-beats and sounds at the gates below. Halil springs up.
Halil. Alessa! Maga! Stirrings at the gates!
(All start up.)
Some one is come.
Alessa. Boy, Halil, who?
Halil. Up, up!
Perhaps Lord Renier—No: I will learn.
Perhaps Lord Renier—No: I will learn.
(He runs to curtains and looks.)
It is Olympio! Olympio!
From Famagouste and Lord Amaury!
From Famagouste and Lord Amaury!
Mauria. Ah!
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class="i0">And he comes here?
Halil. As he were lord of skies!
To lady Yolanda, by my lute!
To lady Yolanda, by my lute!
Maga. Where is she?
Alessa. I do not know; perhaps, her chamber.
Mauria. Stay:
His word may be of the Saracens.
His word may be of the Saracens.
Halil (calling). Oho!
(He admits Olympio, who enters insolently down. All press around him gaily.)
Mauria. Well what, Olympio, from Famagouste?
What tidings? tell us.
What tidings? tell us.
Maga. See, his sword!
Olympio. Stand off.
Mauria. The tidings, then, the tidings!
Olympio. None—for women.
Mauria. So, so, my Cupid? None of the Saracens?
Of the squadron huddling yesterday for haven
At Keryneia?
Of the squadron huddling yesterday for haven
At Keryneia?
Olympio. Who has told you?
Mauria. Who?
A hundred galleys westing up the wind,
Scenting the shore, but timorous as hounds.
A gale—and twenty down!
A hundred galleys westing up the wind,
Scenting the shore, but timorous as hounds.
A gale—and twenty down!
Maga. The rest are flown?
Olympio. Ask Zeus, or ask, to-morrow, lord Amaury,
Or, if he comes, to-night. To lady Yolanda
I'm sent and not to tattle silly here.
Or, if he comes, to-night. To lady Yolanda
I'm sent and not to tattle silly here.
(He starts off, but is arrested by laughter within. It is Civa who enters, holding up a parchment.)
O! Only Civa. (Starts again with Halil.)
Civa. How, Olympio!
Stay you, and hear!—May never virgin love him!
Gone as a thistle! (Turns.)
Stay you, and hear!—May never virgin love him!
Gone as a thistle! (Turns.)
Mauria. Pouf!
Alessa (to Civa). Now, what have you?
Civa. Verses! found in the garden. Verses! verses!
On papyrus of Paphos. O, to read!
But you, Alessa—!
On papyrus of Paphos. O, to read!
But you, Alessa—!
Alessa (takes them). In the garden?
Civa. By
The fountain cypress at the marble feet
Of chaste Diana!
The fountain cypress at the marble feet
Of chaste Diana!
Maga. Where Sir Camarin
And oft our lady—!
And oft our lady—!
Civa. Maga will you prattle?
Read them to us, Alessa, read them, read.
They are of love!
Read them to us, Alessa, read them, read.
They are of love!
Maga. No, sorrow.
Civa. O, as a nun
You ever sigh for sorrow!—They are of love!
Of valour bursting through enchanted bounds
To ladies prisoned in an ogre's keep!
Then of the bridals!—O, they are of love!
You ever sigh for sorrow!—They are of love!
Of valour bursting through enchanted bounds
To ladies prisoned in an ogre's keep!
Then of the bridals!—O, they are of love!
Maga. No, Civa, no! of sorrow! see, her lips!
(She points to Alessa, who, reading, has paled.)
See, see!
Civa. Alessa!
Alessa. Maga—Civa—Ah!
(She rends the parchment.)
Mauria. What are you doing?
Alessa. They were writ to her!
Mauria. To her? to whom? what are you saying? Read!
Read us the verses.
Read us the verses.
Alessa. No.
Mauria. Tell then his name
Who writes them, and to whom.
Who writes them, and to whom.
Alessa. I will not.
Mauria. Then
It is some guilt you hide!—And touching her
You dote on—lady Yolanda!
It is some guilt you hide!—And touching her
You dote on—lady Yolanda!
Alessa. Shame!
Mauria. Some guilt
Of one, then, in this castle!—See, her lips
Betray it is.
Of one, then, in this castle!—See, her lips
Betray it is.
Maga. No, Mauria! no! (holds her) hush!
(Forms appear without.)
Mauria. O, loose me.
Maga. There, on the loggia! Hush, see—
Our lady and Sir Camarin.
Our lady and Sir Camarin.
Alessa (fearful). It is....
They heard us, Maga?
They heard us, Maga?
Maga. No, but——
Mauria (to Alessa). So? that mouse?
Alessa. You know not, Mauria, what 'tis you say.
(Berengere coldly, as if consenting to it, enters.)
She is seeking us; be still.
(Stepping out.) My lady?
(Stepping out.) My lady?
Berengere. Yes.
Your lamps; for it is time
Now for your aves and o'erneeded sleep.
But first I'd know if yet Lord Renier——
Your lamps; for it is time
Now for your aves and o'erneeded sleep.
But first I'd know if yet Lord Renier——
(Sees their disquiet—starts.)
Why are you pale?
Alessa. I?
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class="stanza">Berengere. So—and strange.
Alessa. We have
But put away the distaff and the needle.
But put away the distaff and the needle.
(Camarin enters.)
Berengere. The distaff and the needle—it may be.
And yet you do not seem——
And yet you do not seem——
Alessa. My lady—?
Berengere. Go;
And send me Hassan.
And send me Hassan.
(The women leave.)
Camarin—you saw?
They were not as their wont is.
They were not as their wont is.
Camarin. To your eyes,
My Berengere, that apprehension haunts.
They were as ever. Then be done with fear!
My Berengere, that apprehension haunts.
They were as ever. Then be done with fear!
Berengere. I cannot.
Camarin. To the abyss with it. To-night
Is ours—Renier tarries at Famagouste—
Is ours for love and for a long delight!
Is ours—Renier tarries at Famagouste—
Is ours for love and for a long delight!
Berengere. Whose end may be—
Camarin. Dawn and the dewy lark!
And passing of all presage from you.
And passing of all presage from you.
Berengere (sits). No:
For think, Yolanda's look when by the cypress
We read the verses! And my dream that I
Should with a cross—inscrutable is sleep!—
Bring her deep bitterness.
For think, Yolanda's look when by the cypress
We read the verses! And my dream that I
Should with a cross—inscrutable is sleep!—
Bring her deep bitterness.
Camarin. Dreams are a brood
Born of the night and not of destiny.
She guesses not our guilt, and Renier
Clasps to his breast ambition as a bride—
Ambition for Amaury.
Born of the night and not of destiny.
She guesses not our guilt, and Renier
Clasps to his breast ambition as a bride—
Ambition for Amaury.
Berengere. None can say.
He's much with this Venetian, our guest.
Though Venice gyves us more with tyranny
Than would the Saracen.
He's much with this Venetian, our guest.
Though Venice gyves us more with tyranny
Than would the Saracen.
Camarin. But through this lady
Of the Pisani, powerful in Venice,
He hopes to lift again his dynasty
Up from decay; and to restore this island,
This venture-dream of the seas, unto his house.
'Tis clear, my Berengere!
Of the Pisani, powerful in Venice,
He hopes to lift again his dynasty
Up from decay; and to restore this island,
This venture-dream of the seas, unto his house.
'Tis clear, my Berengere!
Berengere. Then, her design?
And what the requital that entices her?
And what the requital that entices her?
(Rises.)
Evil will come of it, to us some evil,
Or to Yolanda and Amaury's love.
But, there; the women.
Or to Yolanda and Amaury's love.
But, there; the women.
Camarin. And too brief their stay.
What signal for to-night?
What signal for to-night?
Berengere. Be in the garden.
Over the threshold yonder I will wave
The candle-sign, when all are passed to sleep.
Over the threshold yonder I will wave
The candle-sign, when all are passed to sleep.
Camarin. And with the beam I shall mount up to you
Quicker than ecstasy.
Quicker than ecstasy.
Berengere. I am as a leaf
Before the wind and raging of your love.
Go—go.
Before the wind and raging of your love.
Go—go.
Camarin. But to return unto your breast!
(He leaves her by the divan.)
(The women re-enter with silver lighted lamps; behind them are Hassan and the slave Smarda. They wait for Berengere, who has stood silent, to speak.)
Berengere (looking up). Ah, you are come; I had forgotten.
And it is time for sleep.—Hassan, the gates:
Close them.
And it is time for sleep.—Hassan, the gates:
Close them.
Hassan. And chain them, lady?
Berengere. Wait no longer.
Lord Renier will not come.
Lord Renier will not come.
Hassan. No word of him?
Berengere. None, though he yesterday left Nicosie
With the priest Moro.
With the priest Moro.
Hassan. Lady—
Berengere. Wait no longer.
Come, women, with your lamps and light the way.
Come, women, with your lamps and light the way.
(The women go by the steps. Berengere follows.)
Hassan (staring after her). The reason of this mood in her? The reason?
Something is vile. Lady Yolanda weeps
In secret; all for what?—unless because
Of the Paphian—or this Venetian.
(Seeing Smarda.) Now,
Slave! Scythian! You linger?
Something is vile. Lady Yolanda weeps
In secret; all for what?—unless because
Of the Paphian—or this Venetian.
(Seeing Smarda.) Now,
Slave! Scythian! You linger?
Smarda. I am bidden—
My mistress.
My mistress.
Hassan. Spa! Thy mistress hath, I think,
Something of hell in her and has unpacked
A portion in this castle. Is it so?
Something of hell in her and has unpacked
A portion in this castle. Is it so?
Smarda. My lady is of Venice.
Hassan. Strike her, God.
Her smirk admits it.
Her smirk admits it.
Smarda. Touch me not!
Hassan. I'll wring
Thy tongue out sudden, if it now has lies.
What of thy lady and Lord Renier?
Thy tongue out sudden, if it now has lies.
What of thy lady and Lord Renier?
Smarda. Off!
(Renier enters behind, with Moro.)
Hassan. Thy lady and Lord Renier, I say!
What do they purpose?
What do they purpose?
Smarda. Fool-born! look
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around.
Hassan. Not till——
Smarda. Lord Renier, help.
Hassan. What do you say?
(Turns, and stares amazed.)
A fool I am....
Renier. Where is my wife?
Hassan. Why, she....
This slave stung me to pry.
This slave stung me to pry.
Renier. Where is my wife?
Hassan. A moment since, was here—the women with her.
She asked for your return.
She asked for your return.
Renier. And wherefore did?
Hassan. You jeer me.
Renier. Answer.
Hassan. Have you not been gone?
Renier. Not—overfar. Where is Yolanda?—Well?
No matter; find my chamber till I come.
Of my arrival, too, no word to any.
No matter; find my chamber till I come.
Of my arrival, too, no word to any.
(Hassan goes, confused.)
You, Moro, have deferred me; now, no more.
Whether it is suspicion eats in me,
Mistrust and fret and doubt—of whom I say not,
Or whether desire and unsubduable
To see Amaury sceptred—I care not.
Whether it is suspicion eats in me,
Mistrust and fret and doubt—of whom I say not,
Or whether desire and unsubduable
To see Amaury sceptred—I care not.
(To Smarda.)
Slave, to your lady who awaits me, say
I'm here and now have chosen.
I'm here and now have chosen.
Moro. Do not!
Renier. Chosen.
(Smarda goes.)
None can be great who will not hush his heart
To hold a sceptre, and Amaury must.
He is Lusignan and his lineage
Will drown in him Yolanda's loveliness.
To hold a sceptre, and Amaury must.
He is Lusignan and his lineage
Will drown in him Yolanda's loveliness.
Moro. It will not.
Renier. Then at least I shall uncover
What this Venetian hints.
What this Venetian hints.
Moro. Hints?
Renier. I must know.
Moro. 'Tis of your wife?—Yolanda?
Renier. Name them not.
They've shut from me their souls.
They've shut from me their souls.
Moro. My lord, not so;
But you repulse them.
But you repulse them.
Renier. When they pity. No,
Something has gone from me or never was
Within my breast. I love not—am unlovable.
Amaury is not so,
And this Venetian Vittia Pisani——
Something has gone from me or never was
Within my breast. I love not—am unlovable.
Amaury is not so,
And this Venetian Vittia Pisani——
Moro. Distrust her!
Renier. She has power.
Moro. But not truth.
And yesterday a holy relic scorned.
And yesterday a holy relic scorned.
Renier. She loves Amaury. Wed to her he will
Be the elected Governor of Cyprus.
The throne, then, but a step.
Be the elected Governor of Cyprus.
The throne, then, but a step.
Moro. But all too great.
And think; Yolanda is to him as heaven:
He will not yield her.
And think; Yolanda is to him as heaven:
He will not yield her.
Renier. Then he must. And she,
The Venetian, has ways to it—a secret
To pierce her from his arms.
The Venetian, has ways to it—a secret
To pierce her from his arms.
Moro. Sir, sir?—of what?
Renier. I know not, of some shame.
Moro. Shame!
Renier. Why do you clutch me?
Moro. I—am a priest—and shame——
Renier. You have suspicion?
(Vittia enters unnoted.)