Pyrr. [Turning] You can do that? And I—I held my heart
At halt, there at the door, nor turned my head
Lest pity should emburn my eyes to tears. [Crosses to him]
Dost know that all the juniper in the world,
Burnt in thy house of honor, would not cleanse
Its doors of stench? [Throws the harp aside]
And you can use that air
For breath of song!
Bia. Those are the bitterest words
That ever dropped me gall, but I can find
A crushèd balsam in them,—for they say
You might have loved me, Pyrrha.
Pyrr. I might.
Bia. You did.
The moment that I cast my Spartan mask
And showed me true to Athens, you were mine.
That instant there was joy-fall on your heart
That swept its icy sentinels with fire,
And they were down. Oh, had I then proved staunch,
Ta'en helmet off to death and bade him strike,
You would have closed my eyes with kisses warm
As rose-drift on a tomb——
Pyrr. Nay, I'd have kept
Those eyes to be my light on earth, not star
Elysian skies. Had fought for you against
My mother Sparta. Fought as woman fights
For her one love,—with wit and armèd tongue,
And cunning that throws puzzle on the gods.
Fought till subduèd Death had knelt to Fate
And prayed your life for me!
Bia. Have I lost that?
Pyrr. You yielded—sank—unlustred even your soul
For a poor pinch of time——
Bia. But if some touch
Of heaven could make me true again——
Pyrr. Look on
Those lights, that you with single breath could turn
To weeping smoke,—they've lit a quenchless wreck
That all your sighs blow vain against,—a flame
Ungovernable to remorse. Not furrowing winds
That split the watery fields to Thetis' bed,
And make a foamy Ural of her shore,
Can sweep it out. Ay, groan and shake,
And draw your mantle up! Behind a cover
Thick as Taygetus' sides, I'd see you limned
In shame!
Bia. [Springing up] What's shame to love? To love fire-sprung
From instant meeting of fore-strangered eyes?
And such was ours, there in that Athens' grove.
Imperial of itself, it asks no loan
Of subject virtue's smock to drape it royal.
As fen-born vapors seem to nest the stars,
Yet far below them do but thatch the world
When they look down, the vassal qualities
May lift no touch to love, that yet must wear,
To earth's unvantaged eyes, their reek and hue.