_Messenger_.

I speak to the rebellious woman Vashti.

Thou art no more a Queen; thou hast no place In the King's house, nor in the life of men: Thus art thou judged. Go forth now; let the night Befriend thee, for no other friend thou hast, For the day shall reveal thee to men's eyes, And they, obedient to the King, will hate thee.

Therefore be gone: and as the beasts have homes In the wild ground, have thy home from henceforth.

_Vashti_.

Gives the King reason for this judgment?

_Messenger_.

Yea; Because thou art a danger to all marriage, Because men are dishonoured in their rule Of women by thy insult, thou art judged.

_2nd Woman_.

But if the King had heard her crazy words He would have put her where they tame with thongs Maniacs.

_4th Woman_.

When the King hath slept, we will To-morrow crave his presence, and will stand In humble troop before him, thanking him For that his virtue hath this wicked woman Purged from among us, saved us from infection.

_1st Woman_.

Alas, my Queen! where lies thy journey now?

_Vashti_.

Ay, where to go? What shelter for me now Will any of the dwelt earth dare to give?

My beauty as a branding now will mark me; And shame will run before me, and await My coming, wheresoever I would lodge.

For out of Shushan to the ends of the earth Great news runs, with a hidden soundless speed Through secret channels in the folks' dim mind, As water races through smooth sloping gutters.

Swifter than any feet could bear the tale, Going unheard, already posts abroad A buried river, and will soon burst up In towns and markets, far as the width of day, A bubbling clamour, wonderful wild news: "Vashti the Queen is judged and forced to go Roaming the earth, outcast and infamous; Look out for her! Be ready, if she comes, With stones and hooting voices!"--Fare you well, Women whom once I knew. You are quit of me: Pardon me if I add, And I of you.

IV

Into the darkness fared the outcast Queen; Fearless her face, and searching with proud gaze The impenetrable hour. Behind her burned The sky, held by the open kiln of the town In a great breath of fire, yellow and red, From out the festival streets, and myriad links.

Still might she taste, and still must choke to taste, The fragrance of sweet oils and gums aflame Capturing the cool night with spicy riches; Still after her through the hollow moveless air The sounded ceremonies came, the cry Of dainty l.u.s.t in winding tune of fifes, The silver fury of cymbals clamouring Like frenzy in a woman-madden'd brain; And drumming underneath the whole wild noise, Like monstrous hatred underneath desire, The thunder of the beaten serpent-skins.

Yea, in the town behind her, flaring Shushan, She heard Man, meaning to adore himself, Throned on the wealth of earth as G.o.d in heaven, And making music of his glorying thought, Merely betray the mastery of his blood, His s.e.xual heart, his main idolatry,-- Woman, and his l.u.s.t to devour her beauty, Himself devoured ceaselessly by her beauty.

And well she knew, to herself bitterly smiling, How the King seated amid his fellow-kings Devised his grievous rage, feeling himself Insulted in his dearest mind, his rule Over the precious pleasure of his women Wounded: how the man's wrath would hiss and swell Like gross spittle spat into red-hot coals.

But as the Queen fared through the blinded hour, Sudden against the darkness of her eyes There came a wind of light. Crimson it was, With smokey lightnings braided, in its first Swift surge into the gloom before her face; But it began to golden, and became Astonishingly white. And as she stood With rigour in her nerves, a mighty shudder Ravish the light, and in the midst appeared Vision, a G.o.ddess, terrible and kind; And to the Queen the G.o.ddess spoke, in voice That healed her anger with its quietness.

_Ishtar_.

I am the G.o.ddess Ishtar, and thou art My servant. Wilt any of thou help me?

_Vashti_.

Am I then one whom G.o.ds may help? I am By men judged hateful: surely I am thereby Made over to the demons, and not thine.

_Ishtar_.

Yet art thou mine, because thou knowest well Thou disobeyest me.

_Vashti_.

How do I so?

_Ishtar_.

I am the G.o.ddess of the power of women, And pa.s.sion in the hearts of men is my Divinity.

_Vashti_.

Yea, then I disobey thee.

_Ishtar_.

And yet thou shalt not fear me wronging thee: Tell me, O thou Despair, whither thou goest?

_Vashti_.

Thy taunt goes past me; I am not despair.

_Ishtar_.

Verily, but thou art. Is not thy mind A hot revolter from the service due To my divinity, pa.s.sion in men's hearts?

Is there aught else that thou mayst serve? Thou knowest There is naught else: therefore thou art Despair.

_Vashti_.

That I am infamous, I know. But even now, Now when I learn I am to G.o.ds no more Than to the l.u.s.t of men, I will not be Despair.

_Ishtar_.

Who means so greatly to serve pride, That the service of the world is a thing loath'd, Is desperate, avoided by mankind, Unpleasing to the G.o.ds. We, who look down, Know that the world and pride may both be served.

Yet also that it was too hard for thee We know, and pardon. Thou shalt tell me now Why thou refusest the life given thee.

_Vashti_.

Because I will not, woman should be sin Amid man's life. You G.o.ds have given man Desire that too much knows itself; and thence He is all confounded by the pleasure of us.

How sweetly doth the heart of man begin Desiring us, how like music and the green First happiness of the year! But this can grow To uncontrollably crowding l.u.s.t, beyond All power of delight to utter, thence Inwardly turned to anger and detesting!

Till, looking on us with strange eyes, man finds We are not his desire: it was but s.e.x Inflamed, so that it roused the breaking forth Of secret fury in him, consuming life, Yea, even the life that would reach up to know The heaven of G.o.ds above it.

_Ishtar_.

And what, for this, Dost thou refuse?

_Vashti_.

I refuse woman's beauty!

Not merely to be feasting with delight Man's senses, I refuse; but even his heart I will not serve. Are we to be for ever Love's pa.s.sion in man, and never love itself?

Always the instrument, never the music?

_Ishtar_.

I have not done with man.--Thou sayest true, Women are as a sin in life: for that The G.o.ds have made mankind in double s.e.x.

Sin of desiring woman is to be The knowledgeable light within man's soul, Whereby he kills the darken'd ache of being.

But shall I leave him there? or shall I leave Woman amid these hungers? Nay: I hold The rages of these fires as a soft clay Obedient to my handling; there shall be Of man desiring, and of woman desired, A single ecstasy divinely formed, Two souls knowing themselves as one amazement.

All that thou hatest to arouse in man Prepareth him for this; and thou thyself Art by thy very hate prepared: wherefore The G.o.ds forgive thee, seeing what comes of thee.

Behold now! of my G.o.dhead I will make Thy senses burn with vision, storying The spirit of woman growing from loved to love.

_The First Vision: Helen_.

Helen am I, a name astonishing The world, a fame that rings against the sky, Like an alarm of bra.s.s smitten to sound The news of war against the stone of mountains.

I move in power through the minds of men, And have no power to hold my power back.

Men's pa.s.sions fawn upon my feet, as waves That fiercely fawn after the going wind; But not as the wind, shaking off the foam Of the pursuing l.u.s.t of the moaning waves, And over the clamour of the evil seas'

Monstrous word running lightly, unhurt.

They fawn upon me, all the l.u.s.ts of the world, Bewildering my steps with straining close, And breathe their horrible spittle against me.

Pa.s.sions cry round me with the yelling cry Of dogs chained and starving and smelling blood.

Yea, for through me the world becomes a den Of insane greed. In helpless beauty I stand Alone in the midst of dreadful adoration; And, round me thronged, the fawning, fawning l.u.s.ts Open their throats upon me and whine and lick My feet with dripping tongues, or gaze to pant Hot hunger in my face. For I am made To set their hearts grim to possess my life, And with an anger of love devour my beauty; And yet to seal up in their mastered hearts The rage, and bring them in croucht worship down Before me, bent with impotent desire.

A quiet place the world was ere I came A strife, a dream of fire, into its sleep; And with their senses ended men's delights.