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- Herausgeber: Alien Ebooks
- Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
In this play Lucifer sits on a cold desolate planet. There he is the leader of fools and criminals; but Lucifer is very different from that wayward mob. Lucifer’s only crime is that he refuses to bow to any god or spirit. For this crime Lucifer is banished to a desolate rock of a planet. There Lucifer is truly alone; for he has no equal among the fools, common criminals and the wayward. The characters in this play include The Risen Christ, Lucifer, Zeus, Hermes and a dozen others.
Remarkable for the high level of its thought and its poetical expression as for the magnitude of its plan.—The Harvard Graduates’ Magazine
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LUCIFER
A THEOLOGICAL TRAGEDY
LUCIFER
A Theological Tragedy
BY
GEORGE SANTAYANA
COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY
HERBERT S. STONE & CO
INVOCATION
Ye whose lost voices, echoing in this rhyme,
My tongue usurps, forgive if I have erred.
Not as ye uttered, but as I have heard,
I spell your meanings in an evil time.
Mock not the hope your conference sublime
Hath in the vigils of an exile stirred,
But let the music of my woven word
Waft to your shades the sweetness of your prime.
For ye have passed beyond the gate of day
Into the twilight of a paler morn,
And hidden beauty from the world, and shorn
The mortal eye of its supernal ray.
Take, till I come, the homage of my lay,
Nor hold the pilgrim of your night in scorn.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
THE RISEN CHRIST
MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL
SAINT PETER
ANGELS AND SAINTS
LUCIFER
MEPHISTOPHELES
AZAZEL
BELIAL
TUREL
DEVILS AND WITCHES
ZEUS
HERMES
ARES
HERA
ATHENA
APHRODITE
GODS, GODDESSES AND
ATTENDANTS
ACT FIRST
A Mountain Top.Below, a Cave.Night.
What star art thou and by what god beguiled
To wander in this heaven
Far from the serene and mild
Circle of the sisters seven?
O blasted rock, untenanted and wild,
By lightnings riven,
Receive thou me,
O goddess, if the Pleiad lost thou be,
Lost too and driven
By viewless currents of the ethereal sea.
(Kisses the ground.)
For Earth, my mother, while her child
Wings these frozen spaces drear,
Oh, how otherwise enisled
In her blue and liquid sphere
Swims, forgetting grief, and sleeps
Wrapped in the fleeces of her atmosphere!
Above Olympus, Phœbe dim
Patiently shines the while, and keeps
Still watch in heaven; while below the rim
Of ocean now her brother’s steeds uprear
Their fiery manes apace, and dawn is near.
But here no dawn is, and no morning star;
The suns that nearest are
Show like a twinkling host, and peer
Through the cold night, immeasurably far.
Here who can dwell? If there be deities
Whose body stone, whose spirit silence is,
Here they might slumber frozen. Wrinkled brow
And cloven sides of mountains, heaped up rocks
Toys of young giants long since dead, and thou
Horrid abyss that meteors hot might plough
From Heaven falling, and ye vales, by shocks
Of earthquake split in snowy chasms, Oh speak,
If ye have tongues or any ghostly life!
The stranger do not wrong,
A god, though seeming weak,
Who prays you, with the winds too long at strife,
For shelter from this night and stinging thong
Of sleet. Oh, answer me, if any banished soul
Haunts you, and guards from harm the frozen pole.
(Rising from a rocky pinnacle upon which he has been seated)
Nay! Not a banished soul. What seems forlorn,
Hermes, to thee, another loveth best.
In this crag, the throne of scorn,
Hath a bolder spirit rest.
Thou who callest me by name,
Large spectre plumèd for the eagle’s flight,
Let me be thy guest this night
If kindness move thy breast, or any flame
Leap on thy hearth, that henceforth, ever bright,
On this hoarse and angry coast,
May gleam the beacon of its sacred light
Where a god, by fortune hurled,
Found an altar and a host
High on the utmost headland of the world.
Stranger, look upon this face,
Look long, nor let thy fond heart rashly speak.
Seest thou mortal blood within this cheek?
Do not think thy brother’s grace
Befits all spirits. Some there be too high
To wear outward glory still;
For it passes nature’s skill
To paint reason to the eye
Or cast in mould indomitable will.
My hand drew yon starry girth
About the middle of the hollow sky;
I have stood a witness by
At the founding of the earth;
I have seen the twelve gods’ birth,
Alas! and I wait to see them die.
Imperious spirit, I would not offend.
Thy heart knows if this be truth,
And mine eyes, on thee gazing, comprehend
That thou art a god in sooth.
Be then gracious, and befriend
The stranger, and beside thee grant me rest,
That I gain strength unto my journey’s end,
And see again Olympus’ gleaming crest
And the brothers that I love.
(Embraces the knees of Lucifer)
But what error brought the dove
To the eagle’s wintry nest?
I wandered long upon an idle quest
And found no other isle in all the deep.
Luckless for the child of Jove
To set his wingèd foot upon this steep.
No vines upon so wild a ruin creep,
No Nereid sports in such an icy cove.
But, come. There is a cavern in the hill.
’Twill be a covert from this piercing air.
My servant’s fire shall medicine thy chill.
Perhaps thy hunger will not scorn our fare.
This way. ’Tis dark along the icy stair.
(Gives Hermes his hand)
Art thou a serpent, that thy flesh is cold?
They call me so. My blood was hot of old.
But froze from breathing long this cruel storm?
Nay, gentle Hermes. It was not the wind
Which only bites because the heart is warm.
Mine cannot suffer. In my youth I sinned
And loved the soft caresses of the world.
Now I am free. I have forsworn delight
Which makes us slaves.
Which makes us slaves.The chill of wintry night
Keeps germs from budding; with no leaf unfurled
Dies the imprisoned deity within.
How, then, shouldst thou be free beneath the blight
Of this sharp flaw?
Of this sharp flaw?I can be free from sin.
(They reach the cave)
O welcome glow! My brother’s nimble spirit
Even to this region creeps, ingenious fire,
And leaps to meet me, conscious that I came.
But who is he I see in silence near it?
An angel once, now guardian of this flame,
Still studious, as thou seest, of the lyre.
He mixed the draught and heaped the driftwood up
That we have light and comfort while we sup.
(They sit down)
A subtle servitor, that serves desire.
So watching for the dawn before the fight
Soldiers might bivouac.
Soldiers might bivouac.Stranger, fill thy cup
And wrap thee in this cloak, if coarse attire
Can please thee, being warm, on such a night.
Guests come not often hither, for the sky
Grudges me chance of hospitality
Lest that small virtue in me wound its sight.
But is the sky thine enemy?
But is the sky thine enemy?Thou seest
It doth not flatter. Yet ’tis the ally
Of one that wrongs us both.
Of one that wrongs us both.Why, if thou fleest
Into the tempest, on thee it must blow.
Ah, if thou knewest!
Ah, if thou knewest!Art thou here confined?
By a great sorrow and a tameless mind.
A sorrow?
A sorrow?Listen, if thou needs must know.
There is among the stars one greatest star
Which showeth dark, and none may see it shine.
Men know it by their hope; a hand divine
Must darkly lead them thither from afar.
But once within its bounds eternal light
Streams on their ampler souls, and there they are
What upon earth they would be. Of this realm
An ancient God is king, majestic, wise,
Of triple form and all-beholding eyes.
The terror of his glance can overwhelm
The sense, as lightning when it rends the skies.
The dread words of his mouth are gladly heard
But marvellous their meaning, not to prove
Except by faith and argument of love.
He saith he fashioned nature with a word,
And in him all things are and live and move.
To that fair kingdom from primeval night
I passed, and clad in splendour and in might
I led the armies of my father, God.
My right hand urged them with a sword of light,
My left hand ruled them with a flowering rod.
Brave was my youth and pleasing in his sight,
Next him in honour; till one day discourse
Upon his greatness and our being’s source
Led me to question: “Tell, O Lord, the cause
Why sluggish nature doth with thee contend.
And thy designs, observant of her laws,
By tortuous paths must struggle to their end.”
To this with many words of little pith
He answered.
And as when sailors crossing some broad frith
Spy in the lurid west a sudden gloom
And grasp the rudder, taking double reef,
I nerved my heart for battle; for my doom
I saw upon me, and that I was born
To suffer and to fill the world with grief.
But strong in reason, terrible in scorn,
I rose. “Seek not, O Lord, my King,” I cried,
“With solemn phrases to deceive my doubt.
Tell me thy thought, or I will pluck it out
With bitter question. Woe if thou hast lied,
Woe if thou hast not! Make thy prudent choice!
Either confess that how thou cam’st to be
Or why the winds are docile to thy voice,
And why the will to make us was in thee,
And why the partners of thy life are three
Thou canst not know, but even as the rest
That wake to life behold the sun and moon
And feel their natural passions stir their breast
They know not why, so thou from some long swoon
Awaking once, didst with supreme surprise
Scan thy deep bosom and the vault of heaven,—
For I did so when fate unsealed mine eyes.
Thy small zeal for the truth may be forgiven
If thou confess it now, and I might still
Call thee my master, for thou rulest well
And in thy kingdom I have loved to dwell.
Or else, if truth offend thy pampered will,
And with caressing words and priestly spell
Thou wouldst seduce me, henceforth I rebel.”
I knew his answer, and I drew my sword,
And many spirits gathered to my side.
But in high heaven he is still the Lord;
I am an exile in these spaces wide
Where none is master. The north wind and the west
Are my companions, and the void my rest.
’Tis much. When evil fortune bows a friend
We blush that we are happy.
We blush that we are happy.Nay, rejoice.
The pleasant music of a tempered voice
Is cure for sadness. If my grief could end
It would with dreaming of an age of gold
When all were blessed.
When all were blessed.They who serve thy King
Are they not blessed still?
Are they not blessed still?A doubtful thing
Is happiness like that. They grow not old.
They live in friendship and their wondering eyes
Blinded to nature feed on fantasies.
Their raptured souls, like lilies in a stream,
That from their fluid pillow never rise,
Float on the lazy current of a dream.
My grief is not that I am not like them,
Or that the splendour of my life is less.
My soul hath kinship with the wilderness.
But rage at pangs that reason cannot stem—
Right balked with cunning and truth shamed with lies—
Rage that the lust of living never dies
Gnaws at my heart. My noble trust deceived
In justice and indomitable truth,
The unthought of shame that I should stand alone
When universal nature was aggrieved
And should have mutinied! Faith of my youth
That my stout heart did never yet disown,
Prove thyself true and still to be believed!
Hasten, just day, and hurl him from his throne
As children in a chasm cast a stone!
That day may come, but wishing now is vain.
Rest from this passion; much I fear my speech
Hath stirred unwittingly a slumbering pain.
Not slumbering; dumb, and eased with words again
Now thou dost listen.
Now thou dost listen.Tell me, I beseech,
Were many with thee from thy kingdom driven?
And are their hearts embittered like thine own?
Like mine? Like mine? Peerless I stood in heaven,
And in misfortune still I stand alone.
They follow each his will, and ill they fare.
In having poor and only rich in greed,
They dwell in caves or sail the murky air.
Their spirits have been humbled to their need.
In hunger once, not finding root or weed
One killed a heron and lapped up the blood.
Straight his will, mastered by the infectious deed,
Lost its free function. His lean body’s food
Must be warm blood, on blood his visions feed.
Another, then without the goad of lust,
Fell to lasciviousness; his narrowed gaze,
Caught by the wanton image, from him thrust
All other joys. Impossible desire
Is the foul torment of his nights and days.
So some to drunkenness and some to ire
Are also slaves.
Are also slaves.If all are thus depraved
I see thou canst not live among them now.
They are my people, Hermes. Knowest thou
’Twas by my deed that they were first enslaved?
How should I leave them? Wrongly I allow
Myself this absence, but their hideous lot
Fills me with grief, and I can bear it not.
Almost it seemeth that the will must err
That brings such sorrow. That thought rends my heart
With vacillation. Fear me. All I touch
Is blasted with infection.
Is blasted with infection.Bitter thou art,
And to a by-gone sorrow bound too much.
Thinkest thou it is gone? Was it the blow
Of Michael’s sword? Was it the infinite fall,
The darkness, the desire for heaven? No!
What men call pain I never felt at all,
Nor fear, nor need to see the face of God.
The love of woman I have held in scorn,
And could I make an Eden with a nod,
I would not do it. ’Tis nothing to my soul
What blooms, what withers; by what little thorn
My firm foot, treading on the rose, is torn.
These things are swallowed in the fatal whole
That mocks at justice.
That mocks at justice.But why dwell apart
On this bleak mountain? If thy wound is deep
To natural slumber yield thy tortured heart.
Watch not these feeble stars, sad lamps of grief,
But close thine eyes on the vain past, and sleep.
Sleep? Yet, why not? When every shivering leaf
From the proud oak is stripped by autumn’s flaw
He suffers winter’s deep oblivious snows
To choke his anguish and enshroud his woes,
Nor wakes till the new buds begin to thaw
And the whole forest is alive with song.
Yes, sleep. The child, rebellious at some wrong,
Frets in his helpless pain till slumber dries,
Closing his weary eyelids, his dim eyes.
They open laughing in the morning light;
Then his keen pang is nothing, and his cries
The all-forgotten dream of yesternight.
But is my grief a child’s? Am I so slight?
Or could my bosom like the wanton trees
Put forth new blooms to every wind that blew?
Say that it could: say that some vernal breeze
Melted my winter; could my vain forgetting
Make heaven just or make the past untrue?
The evil lives, and if I ceased regretting
I should be more unhappy than I knew.
No one is truly happy. Evil things
Fate lays upon us. Yet she makes amends,
Bringing us daily comfort on the wings
Of sleep, and by the willing hands of friends.
Of friends?
Of friends?Thou hadst none? Deem that time is far.
Friendship is knitted in a single night
’Twixt noble minds. Quench not the memory quite
If I to-day was welcome in this star,
But let that breed new kindness. I in turn
Would greet thee in my kingdom. It is fair.
The wisest mind hath something yet to learn,
