Marie Corelli

“ Oh let me not aspire to such heights of joy, where I have no place, no right, no worthiness!"
"No worthiness!" echoed Edris! ... what a rapture trembled through her sweet caressing voice!—"My Theos, who is so worthy to win back what is thine own, as thou? All Heaven has wondered at thy voluntary exile,—thy place in God's supernal Sphere has long been vacant, . . thy right to dwell there, none have questioned, ... thy throne is empty—thy crown unclaimed! Thou art an Angel even as I! ... but thou art in bonds while I am free! ”

“ On a swift impulse of affection Theos threw one arm round, his neck in the fashion of a confiding school-boy walking with his favorite companion.
"Nay, thou shalt never die, Sah-luma!" he said with a sort of passionate eagerness,—"Thy bright soul shall live forever in a sunshine sweeter than that of earth's fairest midsummer noon! Thy song can never be silenced while heaven pulsates with the unwritten music of the spheres,—and even were the crown of immortality denied to lesser men, it is, it must be the heritage of the poet! ”

“ Thy name, bright soul, shall be as a quenchless star on the dark brows of melancholy Time, . . men gazing thereat shall wonder and adore,—and even I, the least among thy friends, may also win from thee a share of glory! For, simply to know thee,—to listen to thy heaven-inspired utterance, might bring the most renownless student some reflex of thine honor! Yes, thou art great, Sah-luma! ... great as the greatest of earth's gifted sons of song!—and with all my heart I offer thee my homage, and pride myself upon the splendor of thy fame! ”

“ KILL SAH-LUMA! ... kill the gracious, smiling, happy creature whose every minute of existence was a joy,—kill the friend he loved,—the poet he worshipped! ... Kill him! ... ah God! ... never! ... never! ... He staggered backward dizzily,—and Lysia with a sudden stealthy spring, like that of her favorite tigress, threw herself against his breast and looked up at him, her splendid eyes ablaze with passion, her black hair streaming, her lips curved in a cruel smile, and the hateful Jewel on her breast seeming to flash with ferocious vindictiveness. ”

“ Through the hot and silent air swept a sullen surging noise as of the angry shouting of a vast multitude,—then came the fast and furious gallop of many horses,—and again that fierce, resentful roar of indignation, swelling up as it seemed from thousands of throats. Moved, all three at once, by the same instinctive desire to know what was going on, Theos, Sah-luma, and Zabastes sprang from their different places in the room, and hurried out on the marble terrace, dashing aside the silken awnings as they went in order the better to see the open glimpses of the city thoroughfares that lay below. ”

“ Alwyn was gazing at him with puzzled and anxious eyes.
"I do not like it at all"—he murmured, in a pained tone—"It is an insidious SEMBLANCE of truth;—but I know it is not the Truth itself!"
"Why, how obstinate you are!" said Heliobas, good-humoredly, with a quick, flashing glance at him. "You insist on seeing things in a directly reverse way to that in which the world sees them! How can you be so foolish! To the world your Ardath adventure is the SEMBLANCE of truth,—and only man's opinion thereon is worth trusting as the Truth itself!" ”

“ No!—but Sah-luma with entrancing art can make us see, not one lily but a thousand lilies, all waving in the light wind of his fancy,—not one world but a thousand worlds, circling through the empyrean of his rhythmic splendor,—not one joy but a thousand joys, all quivering song-wise through the radiance of his clear illumined inspiration. The heart,—the human heart alone is the final touchstone of a poet's genius,—and when that responds, who shall deny his deathless fame! ”

“ I owe to thee the gift of freedom, and while I thank thee for that gift, I do employ it now to serve me as a sacrifice to Love,—an immolation of myself upon the altars of my own desire! For thou knowest I have loved thee, O Sah-luma—not too well but most unwisely,—for what am I that thou shouldst stoop to cover my unworthiness with the royal purple of thy poet-passion? ... what could I ever be save the poor trembling slave-idolater, of whose endearments thou must needs most speedily tire! ”

“ The triumphal hero-march of the stars,—the brief, bright rhyme of the flashing comet,—the canticle of the rose as she bears her crimson heart to the smile of the sun,—the chorus of green leaves chanting orisons to the wind—the never completed epic of heaven's lofty solitudes where the white moon paces, wandering like a maiden in search of love,—all these and other unnumbered joys he has lost—joys that Sah-luma, child of the high gods and favorite of Destiny drinks in with the light and the air. ”

“ A great thought leaps into the brain like a lightning flash; there it is, an indescribable mystery, warming the soul and pervading the intellect, but the proper expression of that thought is a matter of the deepest anxiety to the true poet, who, if he be worthy of his vocation, is bound not only to proclaim it to the world CLEARLY, but also clad in such a perfection of wording that it shall chime on men's ears with a musical sound as of purest golden bells. ”

“ Aye! the Virgin Priestess of Nagaya hath a most profound comprehension of mankind's immeasurable brute stupidity; and, strong in this knowledge, she governs the multitude with iron will, intellectual force, and dictative firmness: . . when she dies I know not what will happen."
Here he interrupted himself, and a dark shadow crossed his brows. "By my soul!" he muttered, "how this thought of death haunts me like the unburied corpse of a slain foe! I would there were no such thing as Death; 'tis a cruel and wanton sport of the gods to give us life at all if life must end so utterly and so soon!" ”

“ Nay!—'tis a word for children and angels!—not for me! What have I to do with love? ... what hast thou? ... thou, Lysia, who dost make the lives of men thy sport and their torments thy mockery! There is no name for this fever that consumes me when I look upon thee, ... no name for this unquiet ravishment that draws me to thee in mingled bliss and agony! If I must perish of mine own bitter-sweet frenzy, let me be slain now and most utterly, ... but Love has no abiding-place 'twixt me and thee, Lysia! ”

“ I think I had something in me then,—something that was new and wild and, though it may seem self praise to say so, full of that witching glamour we name Inspiration; but whatever that something was, call it genius, a trick of song, what you will,—it was soon crushed out of me. The world is fond of slaying its singing buds and devouring them for daily fare—one rough pressure of finger and thumb on the little melodious throats, and they are mute forever. ”

“ The only mysterious part of the affair is this 'Field of Ardath,' ... how its name haunts me! ... and how HER face shines before the eyes of my memory! That SHE should be a phantom of my own creation seems impossible—for when have I, even in my wildest freaks of fancy, ever imagined a creature half so fair!"
His gaze rested dreamily on the opposite snow-clad peaks, above which large fleecy clouds, themselves like moving mountains, were slowly passing, their edges glowing with purple and gold as they neared the sinking sun. ”

“ And Zephoranim's haughty spirit too had fled,—fled, stained with guilt and most unroyal dishonor, all for the sake of one woman's fairness—the fairness of body only—the brilliant mask of flesh that too often hides the hideousness of a devil's nature!
For one moment Theos remained stupefied by the sheer horror of the catastrophe,—then, recalling his bewildered wits to his aid, he peered anxiously through the archway where he rested, . . there seemed to be a dim red glow at the end of the downward-leading steps, as well as a dusky azure tint, like a patch of midnight sky. ”

“ Here, on a couch of heaped-up, stemless roses, such as might have been prepared for the repose of Titania, Lysia seated herself, while Theos stood gazing at her in fascinated wonderment and gradually increasing masterfulness of passion. She looked lovelier than ever in that dim, soft, mingled light of rosy lamp and silver moonbeams,—her smile was no longer cold but warmly sweet,—her eyes had lost their mocking glitter, and swam in a soft languor that was strangely bewitching,—even the Orbed Symbol on her white bosom seemed for once to drowse. ”

“ Let them sing if they choose, and we will hear them in our idle hours,—we will give them a little of our gold,—a little of our grudging praise, together with much of our private practical contempt and misprisal! So say the unthinking and foolish—so will they ever say,—and hence it is, that though the fame of Theos Alwyn widens year by year, and his sweet clarion harp of Song rings loud warning, promise, hope, and consolation above the noisy tumult of the whirling age, people listen to him merely in vague wonderment and awe, doubting his prophet utterance, and loth to put away their sin. ”

“ Yet there is nothing I would not do to regain the ravishment of the past—when the sight of the sunset across the hills, or the moon's silver transfiguration of the sea filled me with deep and indescribable ecstasy—when the thought of Love, like a full chord struck from a magic harp, set my pulses throbbing with delirious delight—fancies thick as leaves in summer crowded my brain—Earth was a round charm hung on the breast of a smiling Divinity—men were gods—women were angels'—the world seemed but a wide scroll for the signatures of poets, and mine, I swore, should be clearly written! ”

“ Wings! the brilliant shafts of radiance that part angels from mortals,—wings, that, after all, are not really wings, but lambent rays of living lightning, of which neither painter nor poet has any true conception, . . long, dazzling rays such as encircled God's maiden, Edris, with an arch of roseate effulgence, so that the very air was sunset-colored in the splendor of her presence! How if she were a wingless angel,—made woman?
"Glory is thine, and gladness, and the wings!" ”

“ I repeat, poet as your WERE, and poet as you will be again when the clouds on your mind are cleared,—you present the strange, but not uncommon spectacle of an Immortal Spirit fighting to disprove its own Immortality. In a word, you will not believe in the Soul."
"I cannot!" said Alwyn, with a hopeless gesture.
"Why?"
"Science can give us no positive proof of its existence; it cannot be defined."
"What do you mean by Science?" demanded Heliobas. "The foot of the mountain, at which men now stand, grovelling and uncertain how to climb? or the glittering summit itself which touches God's throne?" ”

“ Get thee up, O thou City of Pleasure, from thy couch of sweet wantonness,—get thee up, gird thee with fire, and flee into the desert of forgotten things! For thou art become a blot on the fairness of My world, and a shame to the brightness of My Heaven!—thy rulers are corrupt,—thy teachers are proud of heart and narrow in judgment,—thy young men and maidens go astray and follow each after their own vain opinions,—in thy great temples and holy places Falsehood abides, and Vice holds court in thy glorious palaces. ”

“ Slowly she withdrew her fingers from his clasp.
"Thou art bold!" she said, with a touch of indolent amusement in her accents. "But in thy boldness there is something of the hero. Knowest thou not that I, Lysia, High Priestess of Nagaya, could have thee straightway slain for that unwise speech of thine?—unwise because over-hasty and somewhat over-familiar. Yes, I could have thee slain!" and she laughed,—a rippling little laugh like that of a pleased child. "Howbeit thou shalt not die this time for thy foolhardiness—thy looks are too much in thy favor! ”

“ Heliobas bent his head in grave assent.
Alwyn broke into a harsh laugh—"Come then!" he exclaimed with a reckless air,—"Begin your incantations at once! Send me hence, no matter where, so long as I am for a while escaped from this den of a world, this dungeon with one small window through which, with the death rattle in our throats, we stare vacantly at the blank unmeaning honor of the Universe! Prove to me that the Soul exists—ye gods! ”

“ Sah-luma glanced up quickly in surprise. "Safer? She is as safe as a rose in its green sheath," he replied. "What harm should come to her?"
"I spoke not of harm," said Lysia, with a lazy smile. "But the day may come, good minstrel, when thy sheathed rose may seek some newer sunshine than thy face! ... when thy much poesy may pall upon her spirit, and thy love-songs grow stale! ... and she may string her harp to a different tune than the perpetual adoration-hymn of Sah-luma!" ”

“ Perhaps the mystic Heliobas knows,—perhaps even good Frank Villiers has hazarded a reverent guess at his friend's great secret—but to the uninstructed, what does she seem?
Nothing but a WOMAN, MOST PURE WOMANLY; a woman whose influence on all is strangely sweet and lasting,—whose spirit overflows with tenderest sympathy for the many wants and sorrows of mankind,—whose voice charms away care,—whose smile engenders peace,—whose eyes, lustrous and thoughtful, are unclouded by any shadow of sin,—and on whose serene beauty the passing of years leaves no visible trace. ”

“ No fear to spoil a corpse by flattery,—the heavily sealed-up eyes can never more unclose to lighten with glad hope or fond ambition; the quiet heart cannot leap with gratitude or joy at that "word spoken in due season" which aids its noblest aspirations to become realized! The DEAD poet?—Press the cold clods of earth over him, and then rant above his grave,—tell him how great he was, what infinite possibilities were displayed in his work, what excellence, what merit, what subtlety of thought, what grace of style! ”

“ Al-Kyris! Al-Kyris! Thou that boastest of ancient days and long lineage! ... thou art become a forgotten heap of ruin! ... the sands of the desert shall cover thy temples and palaces, and none hereafter shall inquire concerning thee! None shall bemoan thee, . . none shall shed tears for the grievous manner of thy death, . . none shall know the names of thy mighty heroes and men of fame,—for thou shalt vanish utterly and be lost far out of memory even as though thou hadst never been! ”

“ Thou shalt acquaint Thyself with human griefs, and patiently unravel the perplexities of human longings!—to prove Thy sacred sympathy with suffering, Thou shalt be content to suffer,—to explain the mystery of Death, Thou shalt even be content to die. O people of Al-Kyris, hear ye all the words that tell of this Wonderful, Inestimable King of Peace,—mine aged eyes do see Him now, far, far off in the rising mist of unformed future things!—the Cross—the Cross, on which His Man's pure Life dissolves itself in glory, stretches above me in spreading beams of light! ”

“ Kneel down and cry aloud on the great and terrible Unknown God—the God ye have denied and wronged,—the Founder of worlds, who doth hold in His Hand the Sun as a torch, and scattereth stars with the fire of His breath! Mourn and bend ye all beneath the iron stroke of Destiny!—for know ye not how fierce a thing has come upon Al-Kyris? ... a thing that lips cannot utter nor words define,—a thing more horrible than strange sounds in thick darkness,—more deadly than the lightning when it leaps from Heaven with intent to slay! ”

“ The life of a poet such as I am is a perpetual marvel!—the whole Universe ministers to my needs,—Humanity becomes the merest bound slave to the caprice of my imperial imagination,—with a thought I scale the stars,—with a wish I float in highest ether among spheres undiscovered yet familiar to my fancy—I converse with the spirits of flowers and fountains,—and the love of women is a mere drop in the deep ocean of my unfathomed delight! Yes,—I adore my own Identity! ... and of a truth Self-worship is the only Creed the world has ever followed faithfully to the end! ”