Olive Tilford Dargan

“ My dear Edgar! You will be my son—Virginia’s brother!
Poe. (Lifting his face smiling) I will be happy! No more of that solitude lighted only by the eyes of ghouls! Here I have come into the light. I have found the sun. I see what my work should be—what Art is. She is beauty and joy. Her light should fall on life like morning on the hills. The clouds of passion and agony should never darken her face. O, I can paint her now ready for the embrace of the soul!
Mrs. C. I can not see things with your rapturous eyes, Edgar, but I know that your work will be noble, and I love you. ”

“ Wilt fare with me, brave Helen? Wilt tread the nadir gloom and golden paths of suns? Canst gaze with me into the fearful, grey infinitude—
Hel. That grey infinitude is yet the circle of your being. The mind can not leave itself. You are always in your own country. Why should you fear?
Poe. The mind that can not leave itself knows nothing. Not the ‘I am’ but ‘Thou art’ is God. O, there is a realm of which imagination is but a shadow—where the mind is burnt away in His vision’s fire, and thought becomes celestial angel of itself! ”

“ Edgar, for love’s sake hear me!
Poe. Speak loud if you would drown the winds!
Hel. Listen!
Poe. (Turning upon her) If my body bled at your feet you would stoop to me, but when my spirit lies in flames you cry ‘Don’t writhe! Don’t be a spectacle!’
Hel. (Putting her hands on his shoulders and speaking steadily) The spirit does not murmur. Only the body cries.
Poe. (Calming) Forgive me, Helen!
Hel. Yes, love. (Draws him to couch and sits by him soothingly) ... O, your forehead is on fire.
Poe. No wonder, when I have just come out of hell.... Keep your cool hand over my eyes.... ”

“ Re-enter Poe and Virginia from the garden as Mrs. Clemm appears at the front door)
Vir. O, ’t is too sweet to be true! How have I won you, Edgar?
Poe. By beauty, that speaks loudest when most silent. (Mrs. Clemm meets them) God bless you, aunt. I see ‘yes’ in your eyes. You could not deny me.
Mrs. C. No.
Poe. Run, Virginia, and put on your fairy’s dress! I want you to look as if you were leaping out of a flower into my heart! (Virginia goes in) O this beautiful world! Just to live, my aunt! Is it not enough? Literature is disease! The sick-robe of the soul! ”

“ Poe. Canst call it that? I hear nothing that comes not from the stars. ’T is Israfel! The angel whose lute is his own heart!
If I could dwell
Where Israfel
Hath dwelt, and he where I,
He might not sing so wildly well
A mortal melody,
While a bolder note than his might swell
From my lyre within the sky!
Some day we shall live there, Helen, and then I will sing to thee!
Hel. But now—my love—you must rest—you must sleep.
Poe. Sleep! Nothing sleeps but mortality!
Hel. And you are mortal, Edgar.
Poe. I! Nay, thy love has given me kinship with the deities! Sleep? ”

“ Poe. (Rises, and speaks in his own manner) Madonna, Oh, Madonna! You will save me. (Kisses her forehead) Good-night. To-morrow I will tell you about my work—our work. There are miracles yet to be. And Poesy shall speak them.
Hel. But do not try to write out all your soul, Edgar. That cannot be. Poetry is but one gate. The soul goes out by a thousand ways.
Poe. True. And we will find those ways together, Helen. We will gather truth in every path,—truth that flowers out of the struggle and carnage of life like the bloom of song on the crimson of war. ”

“ Poe. (Wildly) O, you will leave me, Helen! You can not stay! For I will play the madman to thy sense when I am sanest, and like a shivering Atlas shake thy world when most thou wouldst be still. This body wraps more lives then one, my girl. When I was born no pitying angel dipped my spirit-fire in Lethe. I weep with all the dead as they my brothers were, and haunt the track of time to shudder with his ghosts. ”

“ Only your love and devotion have kept her alive so long.
Poe. No! I touched her like a wing of doom, and she fell blasted! (She tries to soothe him) No, no! Call devils from hell to curse me!
(A knock at the door. Mrs. Clemm opens it and a basket is delivered to her. Poe, deep in agony, does not notice. She takes things from the basket)
Mrs. C. O, Edgar! Wine, and soft blankets!
(He looks up, and rushes across to her)
Poe. Wine! wine! O, spirit that bendest from pitying clouds, a mortal thanks thee! Quick, mother, these drops of strength will give her back to us! ”

“ Edgar, my life shall be my song to thee. (They are silent for a second. His hand touches her book)
Poe. A book! Who could write for such an hour? (Holds book in moonlight) Shelley! Lark of the world! You would know!... You will give me this book, Helen?
Hel. It is precious. You will love it?
Poe. Always! (Kisses book, and puts it inside his coat. Taking her hand) O, all our life shall be a happy wonder! Wilt lie with me on summer hills where pipings of dim Arcady fall like Apollo’s mantle on the soul? Dost know that silence full of thoughts?—and then the swelling earth—the throbbing heaven? ”

“ O, Edgar! God help me to be what love must be to thee. Love that can look on miracles and be sane. What a face when he said goodnight! Like an angel’s whose immortality is his wound.... Poor Roger!... What will my father say?... (Moonlight floods the window) Welcome, soft nurse of dreams! (Extinguishes lamp) A little rest.... Ah, I know he does not sleep.... (She lies on couch in the moonlight, her eyes closed. Poe enters by window, gazes at her, and throws up his arms in gesture of prayer)
Hel. (Looking up, and springing to her feet) Edgar! ”

“ Edgar!
Poe. Do not touch me! is not the mark here? (Touching his brow) O, where shall I hide it?
Vir. (Drawing him to her) On my bosom, Edgar. (Presses him to the large chair and sits on the arm of it, caressing him) This forehead is as pure as heaven-lit ivory of angels’ brows!
Poe. O, golden heart! (Kisses her over her heart) I will work so hard, Virginia! We shall be rich, and I will take you to some wonderful land where beauty can not die! Will you forgive me then when you are bright and strong in some happy isle of roses? ”

“ Poe. You are wonderful.
Vir. O, no, no, no! I want to tell you too, Edgar, I have never felt that I quite belong here. It is all too good for me—so beautiful, and I am not beautiful.
Poe. (Rising) Why, my little aspiring Venus, let me tell you something. I have wandered somewhat in life—at home and over sea—and I have never looked upon a woman fairer than yourself.
Vir. (Springing up in delight) O, I am so happy! You would not flatter me! You are the soul of truth!
Poe. It is no flattery, little maid, as the world will soon teach you.
Vir. I have nothing to do with that world, Edgar. ”

“ We need not wait for death! From world to world—
Hel. (Springing from him) It is a step!
Go, Edgar! Go!
Poe. No! By the god in my bosom, you are mine from this moment!
Hel. My father! my father! He will tear me from you—You do not know him!
Poe. I know he ’s mortal. Heaven could not part us. I will not move!
(He is standing in the window. She hastily draws the curtain before him)
Hel. Then keep your word!
(A knock at the door. Helen is silent)
Voice. Helen?
Hel. It is you, Roger? Come in.
(Roger enters, carrying a lamp. Looks about and sees Helen.) ”

“ But we may not know all. Man’s greatest knowledge is but the alphabet of the eternal book. We must be content with the letters, and not unhappily strive to read.
Poe. I will remember. But what mortal can attain shall be mine. Already thoughts that fled my agony come to me as gently as the alighting of birds. Truths open about me like the unfolding of roses yet warm with God’s secret. Good-night. (Takes her hand) I am not the greatest genius, Helen, for I can not stand alone. ”

“ Poe. Think a little more and you will forget it. The heart makes the being there on the bed your daughter—my wife—but the mind makes her a part of the divine force which has chosen her shape for its visible flower. The heart is wrung by the falling of the bloom, for it is endeared to that only, but the mind rejoices in its reunited divinity. ”

“ Shall I read for her majesty?
Car. No! no!
Lopez. She has peeped into Fate’s urn, madam, I assure you!
Car. Nay, I ’m content. What I choose for myself I will abide, and what I choose not is the gift of God and I ’ll abide that too!
Prince Zichy. I congratulate you! Majesty is not always able to show such noble indifference to the future, and lesser mortals—never!
Gip. Please the stars, may I read for you, sir?
Prince Zichy. I give you a proxy,—Senor Ignacio. If the fortune be fair, I take it, if not, I leave it with him.
Ladies. O, hear Ignacio’s fortune! ”

“ Give me to Ninus—give me up to death,
And with a father and a brother lost,
Though thou wert worshipped ’mong thy country’s gods
Still thou couldst not be happy!
Sem. Sir—
Khos. But come,
And they are safe!
Sem. (Bewildered) What do I hear?
Khos. O, come!
Dost know what love is, daughter of Menones?
It is the fire that dead puts out the light
On every hearth, living makes all the world
One altar feeding incense unto Heaven! ”

“ Ay, when Nature naps, and God looks for a bed! When yonder moon forgets her starry whirl and nodding falls from heaven! When Ocean’s giant pulse is weary and grows still! When Earth heaves up no seasons with their buds! No, no, we will not sleep! But see—there gleams the river—and yonder rise the hills touched new with Spring! Wilt go there with me, Helen? ”

“ Poe. No! She faints! My beautiful idol! O, some wine! Heaven and earth for some wine!
Mrs. C. She looks at us! My daughter!
Poe. O, do not try to speak! Let your beautiful eyes do all the talking!
Mrs. C. She looks toward the fire. She would have you go, Edgar, and try to keep warm. Come, dear. (Poe kisses Virginia gently, and goes to fireside, looking back adoringly) Do not look at her, and she will sleep again.
Poe. Ah, God! It will take more than sleep to help her. And I can give her nothing—nothing!
Mrs. C. Don’t, Edgar! ”

“ Hear the decree of Ninus, king and god,
That Artavan, the brother of the queen,
Shall freely live, and die by no man’s hand!
(Silence. The voice of Khosrove below)
Khos. Assyria, speak!
Nin. I, Ninus, so decree!
(Staggers back toward front as all press to rear to see the troops go out. Semiramis, Artavan and Sola stand together gazing out)
Sem. O, Khosrove! See—he rides—away—away!
(Leans forward waving her scarf. Ninus, alone in front, goes toward his chamber, falls on the steps overpowered with rage and lifts his clenched hands)
Nin. O, vengeance! Vengeance for a king! ”

“ My father—Roger—they will not understand.
Poe. O, you would bring the world in to say how and when we shall love! Take note of the hour, and kiss by the clock! Great love is like death, Helen. It knows no time of day. If a man were dying at your gates would you keep from him because ’t was midnight and not noon, and you were robed for sleep? ”

“ O, Edgar!
Poe. Ha! You would rather ask them in to have something dry and something hot! But I must have the air! (Throws door open. Lightning flashes on falling rain. Virginia shrinks from the wind) Hear those winds! Gathering lost souls to the bosom of Night! Feel those drops! Every one of them the tear of a fallen god! O, is it nothing but rain? Ha! ha! ha! (Virginia coughs. Poe closes the door hastily. She coughs again)
Poe. Don’t, Virginia!
Vir. Yes, dear.
Poe. My angel! (Embraces her. She coughs) O, it is these wet clothes! ”

“ Ignacio!
Ig. You here,
My Rafael! (They embrace) Aseffa too!
Asef. Dear friend! (They greet affectionately)
Raf. And Maximilian is crowned?
Ig. Yes ... crowned.
Raf. You saw him?
Ig. In the cathedral, with the empress.
Asef. The empress?
Raf. What looks he like? This Austrian duke
That with a stolen crown mocks majesty!
Ig. He looks like majesty, and yet is graced
With Nature’s gentlest stamp; his countenance
Takes beauty from his smile; his smile, one thinks,
Takes sweetness from a heart that has its own
Nobility from heaven.
Trev. An enemy
Well praised!
Asef. The empress? ”

“ You are happy, cousin Edgar?
Poe. No, Virginia. This is all too delicious to be called happiness. Too calm, like the stilling of a condor’s wings above sea-guarding peaks. He flies when he is happy. When more than happy, it is enough to pause in the blue and breathe wonders. ”

“ But you can go, Edgar.
Poe. My darling, I will never take you away from your mocking birds and roses. Don’t you think any more about it. Run away now and find me a flower. You will have to look sharp under the leaves, for the wind is whistling to-day. Our little sham winter has begun to bluster. (Exit Virginia) She shall not suffer. She shall not! Though my heart surges like a prisoned sea hers shall not move her bosom’s alabaster!... ”

“ Now, woman, learn that Husak—ay,
Husak, the Fierce, can pity fallen glory!
Stand forth, my son! Look, captive, on this prince!
A man not made to sue to less than gods!
Make him thy husband-king, and from his hands
Receive thy purple and remount thy throne!
(All are astonished. Khosrove shrinks back in shame, which Semiramis misunderstands)
Sem. Methinks this lover makes no ardent suit,
King Husak! ”

“ It is the feast. A man may feast who had—
But has no son!... (Startled) ’Tis not the feast!... I know
That noise confused—hoarse shouts—shrieks—pawing steeds—
And rumbling chariots! Those are the tones
Of battle! O, the bloody work! ’Tis war!
Did it delight me once?... Assyrian cries!
My troops! my troops! They ’ve rallied! How they cheer!
What brave heart leads them on?
(Cries come nearer)
Poor creatures, they
Would save me knowing not I died with Khosrove.
I will not live—
(The rear of the tent is torn away by an onslaught. Assyrian troops enter, led by Artavan)
Art. Semiramis! ”

“ But women who can only love are not the women who help. They must be wise and strong too, and oh, so many other wonderful things. If they are not, then all the love only hurts and makes things go wrong.
Poe. O, little angel!
Vir. Yes ... little angel ... when I ought to have been a brave, great angel who could bear heaven on her wings. Long ago I knew it, Edgar. When the truth came I looked every way and there was no help. Then when I found I was to die, it seemed that God had pitied and helped me. For that was the only way.... O, these little women who can do nothing but love! ”

“ Poe. (Momentarily sober) Because—a woman shall never become less holy than God made her through me. (Rises and walks away) Helen ... my amaranth, I may not pluck thee!... (Staggers) One cup more ... one.... (Pours wine, and holds up glass apostrophizing as Roger and Helen enter unnoticed) O, little ruby ocean that can drown all mortal sighs! Call buried hope to put life’s garland on, and limping woes to trip like Nereids on a moonlit shore! For thee, frail sickness casts her pallid chrysalis and blooms a rosy angel! For thee, Death breaks his scythe and owns Life conqueror! ”

“ I have no words, and thought without tongue is nothing so long as we are mortal and wear these bodies. Some day it may be enough just to be a soul, but not now—not now!
Mrs. C. O, my daughter!
Vir. Promise me, mamma, that if I die you will find Helen. She could help him!
Mrs. C. (Rising) Virginia, if you say another word like that I shall think you are mad—or I am! (Bursts into weeping)
Vir. Darling, darling mother! Now I have given you all my burdens you will grow weak under them, and I want strength, strength by my side!
Mrs. C. (Calm) You must go to bed, dear. I will wait for Edgar. ”

“ But all the jewels of a king, my Vassin,
Are not worn in his crown. Some in the heart
Are casketed, and there this maid shall shine
For me alone. Were she of heavenly race—
Men. (Starting up)
She is, my lord!
(Ninus regards him in astonishment)
Nin. What do you here, Menones?
Speak!
Men. (Trembling) I am ill.
Nin. Ill, sir? Ha! Now I know!
Your daughter leads while you couch safe in tent!
She sought to hide your shame! O, what a heart!
But you—
Men. I led, my lord, till illness seized—
Nin. Too ill to fight, but not too ill to fly!
Hound! hound! My troops are lost! ”

“ Can’t you keep your hands off a sick man?
Jug. Sick! He ’s the devil!
Haines. Then you might as well make his acquaintance.
Poe. ’T is here ... death ... and all is yet to say. O, I have chattered as a babe! Now, I could speak, and dust is in my mouth!... Helen, you told me to be content with the letters.... I have tried to read ... to steal God’s book. He has punished ... but death pays my bond. Soon I shall read with His eyes and be at peace. Peace! (Gives a dying shudder) Nevermore!... (Rises, staggers to door and opens it wide) O, Night, with thy minstrel winds, blow gently on me dead ... ”