Proserpine and Midas

by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

ARETHUSE.
Unhappy Goddess! how I pity thee!

INO.
At night upon high Etna’s topmost peak
She lights two flames, that shining through the isle
Leave dark no wood, or cave, or mountain path,
Their sunlike splendour makes the moon-beams dim,
And the bright stars are lost within their day.
She’s in yon field,—she comes towards this plain,
Her loosened hair has fallen on her neck,
Uncircled by the coronal of grain:—
Her cheeks are wan,—her step is faint & slow.

Enter Ceres.

CERES.
I faint with weariness: a dreadful thirst
Possesses me! Must I give up the search?
Oh! never, dearest Proserpine, until
I once more clasp thee in my vacant arms!
Help me, dear Arethuse! fill some deep shell
With the clear waters of thine ice-cold spring,
And bring it me;—I faint with heat and thirst.

ARETHUSE.
My words are better than my freshest waves[:]
I saw your Proserpine—

CERES.
Arethusa, where?
Tell me! my heart beats quick, & hope and fear
Cause my weak limbs to fail me.—

ARETHUSE.
Sit, Goddess,
Upon this mossy bank, beneath the shade
Of this tall rock, and I will tell my tale.
The day you lost your child, I left my source.
With my Alpheus I had wandered down
The sloping shore into the sunbright sea;
And at the coast we paused, watching the waves
Of our mixed waters dance into the main:—
When suddenly I heard the thundering tread
Of iron hoofed steeds trampling the ground,
And a faint shriek that made my blood run cold.
I saw the King of Hell in his black car,
And in his arms he bore your fairest child,
Fair as the moon encircled by the night,—
But that she strove, and cast her arms aloft,
And cried, “My Mother!”—When she saw me near
She would have sprung from his detested arms,
And with a tone of deepest grief, she cried,
“Oh, Arethuse!” I hastened at her call—
But Pluto when he saw that aid was nigh,
Struck furiously the green earth with his spear,
Which yawned,—and down the deep Tartarian gulph
His black car rolled—the green earth closed above.

CERES.
(starting up)
Is this thy doom, great Jove? & shall Hell’s king
Quitting dark Tartarus, spread grief and tears
Among the dwellers of your bright abodes?
Then let him seize the earth itself, the stars,—
And all your wide dominion be his prey!—
Your sister calls upon your love, great King!
As you are God I do demand your help!—
Restore my child, or let all heaven sink,
And the fair world be chaos once again!

INO.
Look[!] in the East that loveliest bow is formed[;]
Heaven’s single-arched bridge, it touches now
The Earth, and ’mid the pathless wastes of heaven
It paves a way for Jove’s fair Messenger;—
Iris descends, and towards this field she comes.

ARETHUSE.
Sovereign of Harvests, ’tis the Messenger
That will bring joy to thee. Thine eyes light up
With sparkling hope, thy cheeks are pale with dread.