Barsine.
Sophron—none can find him; he has gone.
Danaë lets the contents of the bowl slide into the brazier; a shaft of flame flares high, she averts her face.
Laodice.
Ho, are we dropping roses all the time?
Men; bring me men and torches and sharp spears—
A boat to cut the Centaur's rudder-ropes—
I will go down and take him back.... Hui....
She sweeps out followed by Barsine.
Danaë.
O, Sophron, out by the land! Nay, he knows more—
And she, and she; watch-towers divide this earth,
Horses go here; and he may save a ship.
She draws aside the curtain to look beyond.
May women's skirts impede you, ravening queen.
She ascends swiftly to the colonnade: a starry night shows her form dimly.
Fishers' small lights, be drenched—you show too much
At height of settling gulls above the water....
Ah ... h, nothing, nothing. Something will not happen,
And let this life go on again. Nothing.
Yet ... yet ... the air is beating on my temples
As though a rabble murmured beyond hearing.
Rhodogune enters.
Rhodogune.
Danaë, are you here?
Danaë. I am here.
Rhodogune.
Where is the Queen?
Danaë. Nearing the shore by now.
Rhodogune.
I have a drunken woman with nine snakes
That follow her as freshets a drowned body,
Then lift wise sibilant heads in guardian swaying;
Her lair could well be traced by emptied streets.
She is too drunk to speak, but sings the better
A praise of poisonous snakes and the fools of wine,
While in the night they circle and streak for answer
Like wine-cups' lines of light, black rubies' gleams.
Shall I not bring her for the Queen to use,
Who loves delights like dangers come too near?
Danaë.
Put her away in a safe place till morning—
The Queen is smouldering again to-night,
And, if she sees your epileptic mummer,
Will make us tie her up with her own serpents....
Babble no more to me—I must be watching.
Rhodogune.
You are not the Queen, although the Queen's plaything;
Deign not your high commandments unto us.
She goes out.
Danaë.
Sophron, your bare grand neck's a tawny pillar
To lean a cheek against in burning noons;
Your careless eyes look deeplier than you know;
You must be kept in life.... Down there, down there
Is something darker, swifter than the sea....
An unseen smoky glare is mirrored now....
That was his boat: he is gone.... Sophron, Sophron!
The sea is suddenly empty—and all places.
I have given him to mine enemies. She'll not kill him.
Now I must waken and repent my dreams:
Ay, Sophron, get you gone—I am whole again;
I am the Queen's—and O, farewell, farewell.
She descends the stair slowly.