Ion (Talfourd)/Act V

ACT V.

SCENE I.
''The terrace of the Palace. Time, the morning of the second day.''

Two SOLDIERS on guard.

1 Sol. A stirring season, comrade ! our new prince Has leap'd as eagerly into his seat,

As he had languished an expectant heir Weary of nature's kindness to old age. He was esteem'd a modest stripling : strange That he should, with such reckless hurry, seize The gaudy shows of power !

2 Sol. 'Tis honest nature;

The royal instinct was but smouldering in him, And now it blazes forth. I pray the gods He may not give us cause to mourn his sire.

1 Sol. No more : he comes.

[Enter ION, c.]

Ion. Why do ye loiter here?

Are all the statues deck'd with festal wreaths

As I commanded!

1 Sol. We have been on guard Here, by Agenor's order, since the nightfall.

Ion. On guard ! Well, hasten now, and see it done. I need no guards. [Exeunt Soldier.]

The awful hour draws near I am composed to meet it. Phocion comes: He will unman me ; yet he must not go, Thinking his presence painful.

[Enter PHOCION, L.]

Friend, good morrow! Thou play'st the courtier early.

Pho. Canst thou speak In that old tone of common cheerfulness, That blithely promises delightful years, And hold thy mournful purpose?

Ion. I have drawn From the selectest fountain of repose A blessed calm :-- when I lay down to rest, I fear'd lest bright remembrances of childhood Should with untimely visitation mock me; But deep and dreamless have my slumbers been. If sight of thee renews the thoughts of life Too busily -- I prize the love that wakes them.

Pho. Oh ! cherish them, and let them plead with thee To grant my prayer, that thou wouldst live for Argos, Not die for her; thy gracious life shall win, More than thy death, the favour of the gods, And charm the marble aspect of grim Fate Into a blessed change: I, who am vow'd, And who so late was arm'd Fate's minister, Implore thee!

Ion. Speak to me no more of life! There is a dearer name I would recall Thou understand'st me--

[Enter AGENOR, L.]

Agen. Thou hast forgot to name Who shall be bidden to this evening's feast.

Ion. The feast! most true; I had forgotten it. Bid whom thou wilt ; but let there be large store, If our sad walls contain it, for the wretched Whom hunger palsies. It may be few else Will taste it with a relish. [Exit AGENOR, L.]

[ION resumes his address to PHOCION, and continues it, bro- ken by the interruptions which follow,] I would speak A word of her who yester-morning rose To her light duties with as blithe a heart As ever yet its equal beating veil'd In moveless alabaster; plighted now. In liberal hour, to one whose destiny Shall freeze the sources of enjoyment in it, And make it heavy with the life-long pang A widow'd spirit bears !

[Enter CLEON, L.]

Cleon. The heralds wait To learn the hour at which the solemn games Shall be proclaim'd,

Ion. The games ! --yes, I remember That sorrow's darkest pageantries give place To youth's robustest pastimes --Death and Life Embracing :-- at the hour of noon. Cleon. The wrestlers Pray thee to crown the victor.

Ion. If I live, Their wish shall govern me.

[Exit CLEON, L.]

Could I recall One hour, and bid thy sister think of me With gentle sorrow., as a playmate lost, I should escape the guilt of having stopp'd The pulse of hope in the most innocent soul That ever passion ruffled. Do not talk Of me as I shall seem to thy kind thoughts, But harshly as thou canst ; and if thou steal

From thy rich store of popular eloquence Some bitter charge against the faith of kings, 'Twill be an honest treason.

[Enter CASSANDER, R.]

Cass. Pardon me, If I entreat thee to permit a few Of thy once cherished friends to bid thee joy Of that which swells their pride.

Ion. They'll madden me.-- Dost thou not see me circled round with care? Urge me no more.

[As CASSANDER is going, ION leaves PHOCION, and comes to him] Come back, Cassander ! see How greatness frets the temper. Keep this ring-- It may remind thee of the pleasant hours That we have spent together, ere our fortunes Grew separate ; and with thy gracious speech Excuse me to our friends.

[Exit CASSANDER, R

Pho. 'Tis time we seek The temple.

Ion. Phocion ! must I to the temple?

Pho. There sacrificial rites must be performed Before thou art enthroned.

Ion. Then I must gaze On things which will arouse the struggling thoughts I had subdued perchance may meet with her Whose name I dare not utter. I am ready. [Exeunt, L]

SCENE II.
The Temple.

CLEMANTHE and, ABRA, discovered.

Abra. Be comforted, dear lady ; he must come To sacrifice.

Clem. Recall that churlish word, That subborn " must" that bounds my living hopes, As with an iron circle. He must come ! How piteous is affection's state, that cleaves To such a wretched prop ! I had flown to him Long before this, but that I fear'd my presence Might prove a burthen, and he sends no word, No token that he thinks of me? Art sure That he must come? The hope has torture in it; Yet it is all my bankrupt heart hath left To feed upon.

Abra. I see him now with Phocion Pass through the inner court.

Clem. He will not come This way, then, to the place for sacrifice. I can endure no more; speed to him, Abra; And bid him, if he holds Clemanthe's life Worthy a minute's loss, to seek me here.

Abra. Dear lady !

Clem. Do not answer me, but run, Or I shall give yon crowd of sycophants To gaze upon my sorrow. [Exit ABRA, L.]

It is hard ; Yet I must strive to bear it, and find solace In that high fortune which has made him strange. He bends this way but slowly mournfully. O, he is ill ; how has my slander wronged him !

[Enter ION, L.]

Ion. What wouldst thou with me, lady?

Clem. Is it so? Nothing, my lord, save to implore thy pardon, That the departing gleams of a bright dream, From which I scarce had waken'd, made me bold To crave a word with thee; but all are fled And I have naught to seek.

Ion. A goodly dream; But thou art right to think it was no more, And study to forget it.

Clem. To forget it? Indeed, my lord, I cannot wish to lose What, being past, is all my future hath, All I shall live for: do not grudge me this, The brief space I shall need it.

Ion. Speak not, fair one, In tone so mournful, for it makes me feel Too sensibly the hapless wretch I am, That troubled the deep quiet of thy soul In that pure fountain which reflected heaven, For a brief taste of rapture,

Clem. Dost thou yet Esteem it rapture, then? My foolish heart, Be still ! Yet wherefore should a crown divide us? Oh, my dear Ion ! let me call thee so This "once at least it could not in my thoughts Increase the distance that there was between us, When, rich in spirit, thou to strangers' eyes Seem'd a poor foundling.

Ion. It must separate us! Think it no harmless bauble, but a curse Will freeze the current in the veins of youth, And from familiar touch of genial hand, From household pleasures, from sweet daily tasks, From airy thought, free wanderer of the heaven, For ever banish me!

Clem. Thou dost accuse Thy state too hardly. It may give some room, Some little space, amid its radiant folds, For love to make its nest in!

Ion. Not for me: My pomp must be most lonesome, far removed From that sweet fellowship of human kind The slave rejoices in; my solemn robes Shall wrap me as a panoply of ice, And the attendants who may throng around me Shall want the flatteries which may basely warm The sceptral thing they circle. Dark and cold Stretches the path, which, when I wear the crown, I needs must enter ; the great gods forbid That thou should'st follow in it!

Clem. Oh, unkind ! And shall we never see each other?

Ion. (after a pause.) Yes! I have asked that dreadful question of the hills That look eternal; of the flowing streams That lucid flow for ever; of the stars, Amid whose fields of azure my raised spirit Hath trod in glory: all were dumb; but now, While I thus gaze upon thy living face, I feel the love that kindles through its beauty, Can never wholly perish; we shall meet Again, Clemanthe!

Clem. Bless thee for that name; Call me that name again! thy words sound strangely Yet they breathe kindness. Shall we meet indeed? Think not I would intrude upon thy cares, Thy councils, or thy pomps; to sit at distance, To wave, with the nice labour which preserves The rebel pulses even, from gay threads Faint records of thy deeds, and sometimes catch The falling music of a gracious word, Or the stray sunshine of a smile, will be Comfort enough; do not deny me this; Or, if stern fate compel thee to deny, Kill me at once!

Ion. No; thou must live, my fair one; There are a thousand joyous things in life, Which pass unheeded in a life of joy As thine hath been, till breezy sorrow comes To ruffle it; and daily duties paid Hardly at first, at length will bring repose To the sad mind that studies to perform them. Thou dost not mark me.

Clem. Oh, I do! I do!

Ion. If for thy brother's and thy father's sake Thou art content to live, the healer Time Will reconcile thee to the lovely things Of this delightful world, and if another, A happier -- no, I cannot bid thee love Another ! I did think I could have said it, But 'tis in vain.

Clem. Thou art mine own, then, still?

Ion. I am thine own ! thus let me clasp thee; nearer! Oh, joy too thrilling and too short !

[Enter AGENOR, R.]

Agen. My lord, The sacrificial rites await thy presence.

Ion. I come. One more embrace the last, the last In this world ! Now farewell ! [Exeunt. AGENOR and ION.]

Clem. The last embrace ! Then he has cast me off! No, 'tis not so; Some mournful secret of his fate divides us: I'll struggle to bear that, and snatch a comfort From seeing him uplifted. I will look Upon him on his throne; Minerva's shrine Will shelter me from vulgar gaze: I'll hasten, And feast my sad eyes with his greatness there! [Exit, R. ]

SCENE III.
The great Square of the city, on the L A throne of state prepared, on the R. an altar, the statues  decorated with garlands.

Enter CTESIPHON and CASSANDER, R. u. E.

Ctes. Vex me no more, by telling me, Cassander, Of his fair speech; I prize it at its worth: Thou'lt see how he will act when seated firm Upon the throne the craven tyrant fill'd, Whose blood he boasts, unless some honest arm Should shed it first.

Cas. Hast thou forgot the time When thou thyself wert eager to foretell His manhood's glory from his childish virtues Let me not think thee one of those fond prophets, Who are well pleased still to foretell success, So it remain their dream.

Ctes. Thou dost forget What has chill'd fancy and delight within me

[Music at a distance]

Hark! servile trumpets speak his coming watch, How power will change him. [They stand aside.]

The Procession, Enter U. E. R. MEDON, AGENOR, PHO- CION, TIMOCLES, CLEON, Sages and People ION last in  ''royal robes. He advances amidst shouts.''

Ion. I thank you for your greeting Shout no more, But in deep silence raise your hearts to Heaven, That it may strengthen one so young and frail As I am, for the business of this hour. Must I sit here?

Medon. Permit thy earliest friend, Who has so often propp'd thy tottering step To lead thee to thy throne, and thus fulfill His fondest vision.

Ion. Thou art still most kind

Medon. Nay, do not think of me my son! my son! What ails thee ? When thou should'st reflect the joy Of Argos, the strange paleness of the grave Marbles thy face.

Ion. Am I indeed so pale? It is a solemn office I assume; Yet thus, with Phoebus' blessing, I embrace it

[Sits on the throne.

Stand forth, Agenor!

Agen. I await thy will.

Ion. To thee I look as to the wisest friend Of this afflicted people thou must leave Awhile the quiet which thy life hath earn'd, To rule our councils ; fill the seats of justice With good men not so absolute in goodness, As to forget what human frailty is; And order my sad country.

Agen. Pardon me --

Ion. Nay, I will promise 'tis my last request: Thou never couldst deny me what I sought In boyish wantonness, and shalt not grudge Thy wisdom to me, till our state revive From its long anguish; it will not be long If Heaven approve me here. Thou hast all power Whether I live or die.

Agen. Die! I am old --

Ion. Death is not jealous of thy mild decay, Which gently wins thee his; exulting Youth Provokes the ghastly monarch's sudden stride, And makes his horrid fingers quick to clasp His shivering prey at noontide. Let me see The captain of the guard.

Cry. I kneel to crave Humbly the favour which thy sire bestow'd On one who loved him well.

Ion. I cannot thank thee, That wakest the memory of my father's weakness But I will not forget that thou hast shared The light enjoyments of a noble spirit, And learned the need of luxury. I grant For thee and thy brave comrades, ample share Of such rich treasures as my stores contain, To grace thy passage to some distant land, Where, if an honest cause engage thy sword, May glorious laurels wreath it! In our realm, We shall not need it longer.

Cry. Dost intend To banish the firm troops before whose valour Barbarian millions shrink app'all'd, and leave Our city naked to the first assault Of reckless foes'?

Ion. No, Crythes! in ourselves, In our own honest hearts and chainless hands Will be our safeguard ; while we seek no use Of arms we would not have our children blend With their first innocent wishes; while the love Of Argos and of justice shall be one To their young reason ; while their sinews grow Firm 'midst the gladness of heroic sports, We shall not ask, to guard our country's peace, One selfish passion, or one venal sword. I would not grieve thee; but thy valiant troop For I esteem them valiant -- must no more, With luxury which suits a desperate camp, Infect us. See that they embark, Agenor, Ere night.

Cry. My lord --

Ion. No more -- my word hath pass'd. Medon, -- there is no office I can add To those thou hast grown old in; thou wilt guard The shrine of Phoebus, and within thy home Thy too delightful home befriend the stranger As thou didst me; there sometimes waste a thought On thy spoil'd inmate!

Medon. Think of thee, my lord? Long shall we triumph in thy glorious reign --

Ion. Prithee no more. Argives! I have a boon To crave of you; whene'er I shall rejoin In death the father from whose heart in life Stern fate divided me, think gently of him ! For ye, who saw him in his full-blown pride, Knew little of affections crush'd within, And wrongs which frenzied him ; yet never more Let the great interests of the state depend Upon the thousand chances that may sway A piece of human frailty! Swear to me That ye will seek hereafter in yourselves The means of sovereign rule: our narrow space, So happy in its confines, so compact, Needs not the magic of a single name Which wider regions may require to draw Their interests into one; but, circled thus, Like a bless'd family by simple laws, May tenderly be governed; all degrees Moulded together as a single form Of nymph-like loveliness, which finest chords Of sympathy pervading shall suffuse In times of quiet with one bloom, and fill With one resistless impulse, if the hosts Of foreign power should threaten. Swear to me That ye will do this !

Medon. Wherefore ask this now? Thou shalt live long! The paleness of thy face, Which late appalled me, is grown radiant now, And thine eyes kindle with the prophecy Of lustrous years.

Ion. The gods approve me, then! Yet will I use the function of a king, And claim obedience. Promise, if I leave No issue, that the sovereign power shall live In the affections of the general heart, And in the wisdom of the best.

Medon and others (kneeling). We swear it!

Ion. Hear and record the oath, immortal powers! Now give me leave a moment to approach That altar, unattended. [He goes to the altar.]

Gracious gods ! In whose mild service my glad youth was spent, Look on me now ; and if there is a Power, As at this solemn time I feel there is, Beyond ye, that hath breathed through all your shapes The spirit of the beautiful that lives In earth and heaven : to ye I offer up This conscious being, full of life and love, For my dear country's welfare. Let this blow End all her sorrows ! [Stabs himself and falls. CTESIPHON rushes to support him] Ctesiphon, thou art Avenged, and wilt forgive me.

Ctes. Thou hast pluck'd The poor disguise of hatred from my soul, And made me feel how shallow is the wish Of vengeance. Could I die to save thee !

[CLEMANTHE rushes forward.]

Clem. Hold! Let me support him stand away ! indeed I have best right, although ye know it not, To cling to him in death.

Ion. This is a joy I did not hope for -- this is sweet indeed! Bend thine eyes on me!

Clem. And for this it was Thou wouldst have weaned me from thee ? Couldst thou think I would be so divorced ?

Ion. Thou art right, Clemanthe: It was a shallow and an idle thought 'Tis past! No show of coldness frets us now, No vain disguise, my love. Yet thou wilt think On that, which, when I feign'd, I truly said Wilt thou not, sweet one?

Clem. I will treasure all.

[Enter IRUS, L.]

Irus. I bring you glorious tidings -- Ha! no joy Can enter here.

Ion. Yes -- is it as I hope?

Irus. The pestilence abates.

Ion (springs on his feet). Do ye not hear? Why shout ye not? ye are strong -- think not of me. Hearken! the curse my ancestry had spread O'er Argos, is dispelled -- Agenor, give This gentle youth his freedom, who hath brought Sweet tidings that I shall not die in vain! And Medon! cherish him as thou hast one Who, dying, blesses thee; my own Clemanthe! Let this console thee also -- Argos lives! The offering is accepted -- all is well!

The Curtain Falls.