The Vigil of Venus and Other Poems by "Q" — A Reader’s Guide

me was that a rain-cloud begat her, impregning the heave of the deep, 'Twixt hooves of sea-horses a-scatter, stampeding the dolphins as sheep. 10 Lo! arose of that bridal Dione, rainbow'd and besprent of its dew! _Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew_!

She, she, with her gem-dripping finger enamels the wreath of the year; She, she, when the maid-bud is nubile and swelling winds--whispers anear, Disguising her voice in the Zephyr's--"So secret the bed! And thou shy?" 15 She, she, thro' the hush'd humid Midsummer night draws the dew from on high; Dew bright with the tears of its origin, dew with its weight on the bough,

Gutta præceps orbe parvo sustinet casus suos. En, pudorem florulentæ prodiderunt purpuræ: Umor ille quern serenis astra rorant noctibus 20 Mane virgineas papillas solvit umenti peplo. Ipsa jussit mane ut udas virgines nubant rosæ; Fusa Paphies de cruore deque Amoris osculis Deque gemmis deque flammis deque solis purpuris, Cras ruborem qui latebat veste tectus ignea 25 Unico marita nodo non pudebit solvere. _Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet_.

Misdoubting and clinging and trembling--"Now, now must I fall? Is it now?" Star-fleck'd on the stem of the brier as it gathers and falters and flows, Lo! its trail runs a ripple of fire on the nipple it bids be a rose, 20 Yet englobes it diaphanous, veil upon veil in a tiffany drawn To bedrape the small virginal breasts yet unripe for the spousal of dawn; Till the vein'd very vermeil of Venus, till Cupid's incarnadine kiss, Till the ray of the ruby, the sunrise, ensanguine the bath of her bliss; Till the wimple her bosom uncover, a tissue of fire to the view, 25 And the zone o'er the wrists of the lover slip down as they reach to undo. _Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew_!

Ipsa nymphas diva luco jussit ire myrteo: It puer comes puellis. Nee tamen credi potest Esse Amorem feriatum, si sagittas vexerit. 30 Ite, nymphæ, posuit arma, feriatus est Amor; Jussus est inermis ire, nudus ire jussus est, Neu quid arcu, neu sagitta, neu quid igne Iæderet; Sed tamen nymphse cavete, quod Cupido pulcher est; Est in armis totus idem quando nudus est Amor! 35

_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit eras amet_.

Conpari Venus pudore mittit ad te virgines:

"Go, maidens," Our Lady commands, "while the myrtle is green in the groves, Take the Boy to your escort." "But ah!" cry the maidens, "what trust is in Love's Keeping holiday too, while he weareth his archery, tools of his trade?" 30 "Go! he lays them aside, an apprentice released; ye may wend unafraid. See, I bid him disarm, he disarms; mother-naked I bid him to go, And he goes mother-naked. What flame can he shoot without arrow or bow?" Yet beware ye of Cupid, ye maidens! Beware most of all when he charms As a child: for the more he runs naked, the more he's a strong man-at-arms. 35

_Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew! "Lady Dian"--Behold how demurely the damsels approach her and sue--

Una res est quam rogamus: cede, virgo Delia, Ut nemus sit incruentum de ferinis stragibus. Ipsa vellet ut venires, si deceret virginem: 40 Jam tribus choros videres feriatos noctibus Congreges inter catervas ire per saltus tuos, Floreas inter coronas, myrteas inter casas: Nee Ceres nee Bacchus absunt, nee poetarum Deus; De tenente tota nox est pervigilia canticis: 45 Regnet in silvis Dione; tu recede, Delia. _Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet_.

Hear Venus her only petition! Dear maiden of Delos, depart! Let the forest be bloodless to-day, unmolested the roe and the hart! Holy huntress, thyself she would bid be her guest, 40 could thy chastity stoop To approve of our revels, our dances--three nights that we weave in a troop Arm-in-arm thro' thy sanctu'ries whirling, till faint and dispersed in the grove We lie with thy lilies for chaplets, thy myrtles for arbours of love: And Apollo, with Ceres and Bacchus to chorus-- song, harvest, and wine-- Hymns thee dispossess'd, "'Tis Dione who reigns! 45 Let Diana resign!" O, the wonderful nights of Dione! dark bough, with her star shining thro'! _Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew!_

Jussit Hyblæis tribunal stare diva floribus; Præses ipsa jura dicit, adsederunt Gratiæ. Hybla, totos funde floras quidquid annus adtulit; 50 Hybla, florum rumpe vestem quantus Ætnæ campus est.

Ruris hic erunt puellæ, vel puellæ montium, Quæque silvas, quæque lucos, quæque fontes incolunt:

Jussit omnes adsidere mater alitis dei, Jussit et nudo puellas nil Amori credere. 55

_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet._ She has set up her court, has Our Lady, in Hybla, and deckt it with blooms:-- With the Graces at hand for assessors Dione dispenses her dooms. Now burgeon, O Hybla! put forth and abound, till 50 Proserpina's field, To the foison thy lap overflowing its laurel of Sicily yield. Call, assemble the nymphs--hamadryad and dryad-- the echoes who court From the rock, who the rushes inhabit, in ripples who swim and disport. "I admonish you maids--I, his mother, who suckled the scamp ere he flew-- An ye trust to the Boy flying naked, some pestilent 55 prank ye shall rue." _Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew!_

Et rigentibus virentes ducit umbras floribus: Cras erit quum primus Æther copulavit nuptias, Et pater totum creavit vernis annum nubibus, In sinum maritus imber fluxit almæ conjugis, 60 Unde fetus mixtus omnes aleret magno corpore. Ipsa venas atque mentem permeanti spiritu Intus occultis gubernat procreatrix viribus, Perque coelum, perque terras, perque pontum subditum Pervium sui tenorem seminali tramite 65

She has coax'd her the shade of the hazel to cover the wind-flower's birth. Since the day the Great Father begat it, descending in streams upon Earth; When the Seasons were hid in his loins, and the Earth lay recumbent, a wife, To receive in the searching and genital shower the 60 soft secret of life. As the terrible thighs drew it down, and conceived, as the embryo ran Thoro' blood, thoro' brain, and the Mother gave all to the making of man, She, she, our Dione, directed the seminal current to creep, Penetrating, possessing, by devious paths all the height, all the deep. She, of all procreation procuress, the share to the 65 furrow laid true;

Inbuit, jussitque mundum nosse nascendi vias. _Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet._

Ipsa Trojanos nepotes in Latinos transtulit, Ipsa Laurentem puellam conjugem nato dedit; Moxque Marti de sacello dat pudicam virginem; 70 Romuleas ipsa fecit cum Sabinis nuptias, Unde Ramnes et Quirites proque prole posterum Romuli matrem crearet et nepotem Cæsarem. _Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet._

She, she, to the womb drave the knowledge, and open'd the ecstasy through. _Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew!_

Her favour it was fill'd the sail of the Trojan for Latium bound; Her favour that won her Aeneas a bride on Laurentian ground, And anon from the cloister inveigled the Virgin, the Vestal, to Mars; 70 As her wit by the wild Sabine rape recreated her Rome for its wars, With the Ramnes, Quirites, together ancestrally proud as they drew From Romulus down to our Caesar--last, best of that bone, of that thew. _Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew!_

Rura fecundat voluptas: rura Venerem sentiunt: 75 Ipse Amor puer Dionse rure natus dicitur. Hunc ager, cum parturiret ipsa, suscepit sinu: Ipsa florum delicatis educavit osculis. _Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras, amet_.

Ecce jam super genestas explicant tauri latus, 80 Quisque tutus quo tenetur conjugali foedere: Subter umbras cum maritis ecce balantum greges; Et canoras non tacere diva jussit alites.

Pleasure planteth a field; it conceives to the passion, 75 the pang, of his joy. In a field was Dione in labour delivered of Cupid the Boy; And the field in its fostering lap from her travail received him: he drew Mother's milk from the delicate kisses of flowers; and he prosper'd and grew-- _Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew!_

Lo! behold ye the bulls, with how lordly a flank 80 they besprawl on the broom!-- Yet obey the uxorious yoke, and are tamed to Dione her doom. Or behear ye the sheep, to the husbanding rams how they bleat to the shade! Or behear ye the birds, at the Goddess' command how they sing unafraid!

Jam loquaces ore rauco stagna cycni perstrepunt; Adsonat Terei puella subter umbram populi, 85 Ut putes motus amoris ore dici musico, Et neges queri sororem de marito barbaro. Ilia cantat, nos tacemus. Quando ver venit meum? Quando fiam uti chelidon, ut tacere desinam? Perdidi Musam tacendo, nec me Apollo respicit; 90 Sic Amyclas, cum tacerent, perdidit silentium. _Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet_.

Be it harsh as the swannery's clamour that shatters the hush of the lake, Be it dulcet as where Philomela holds darkling the poplar awake, 85 So melting her soul into music, you'd vow 'twas her passion, her own, She plaineth--her sister forgot, with the Daulian crime long-agone. Hark! Hush! Draw around to the circle ... Ah, loitering Summer! Say when For me shall be broken the charm, that I chirp with the swallow again? I am old; I am dumb; I have waited to sing till Apollo withdrew-- 90 So Amyclae a moment was mute, and for ever a wilderness grew. _Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew,_ _To-morrow!--to-morrow!_

CARL'ANTONIO, _Duke of Adria_

TONINO, _his young son_

LUCIO; _Count of Vallescura, brother to the Duchess_

CESARIO, _Captain of the Guard_

OTTILIA, _Duchess and Regent of Adria_

LUCETTA, _a Lady-in-Waiting_

FULVIA, _a Lady of the Court_

_Courtiers, Priests, Choristers, Soldiers, Mariners, Townsfolk, etc._

_The Scene is the Ducal Palace of Adria, in the N. Adriatic_

SCENE.--_A terraced courtyard before the Ducal Palace. Porch and entrance of Chapel, R. A semicircular balcony, L., with balustrade and marble seats, and an opening whence a flight of steps leads down to the city. The city lies out of sight below the terrace; from which, between its cypresses and statuary, is seen a straight stretch of a canal; beyond the canal are sand-hills and the line of the open sea. Mountains, L., dip down to the sea and form a curve of the coast._

_As the curtain rises, a crowd of town and country folk is being herded to the back of the terrace by the Ducal Guard, under Cesario. Within the Chapel, to_ _the sound of an organ, boys' voices are chanting the service of the Mass._

_Cesario, Gamba the Fool, Guards, Populace._

_Cesario._ Way there! Give room! The Regent comes from Mass. Guards, butt them on the toes--way there! give room! Prick me that laggard's leg-importunate fools!

_Guards._ Room for the Regent! Room!

[_The sacring bell rings within the Chapel._

_Cesario._ Hark there, the bell!

[_A pause. Men of the crowd take off their caps._

Could ye not leave, this day of all the year, Your silly suits, petitions, quarrels, pleas? Could ye not leave, this once in seven years, Our Lady to come holy-quiet from Mass. Lean on the wall, and loose her cage-bird heart, To lift and breast and dance upon the breeze. Draws home her lord the Duke?

_Crowd._ Long live the Duke!

_Cesario._ The devil, then! Why darken his approach?

_Gamba (from the bench where he has been mending his viol)._ Because, Captain, 'tis a property knaves and fools have in common--to stand in their own light, as 'tis of soldiers to talk bad logic. That knave, now--he with the red nose and the black eye--the Duke's colours, loyal man!--you clap an iron on his leg, and ask him why he is not down in the city, hanging them out of window! Go to: you are a soldier!

_Cesario._ And you a Fool, and on your own showing stand in your own light.

_Gamba._ Nay, neither in my own light, nor as a Fool. So should myself stand between the sun and my shadow; whereas I am not myself--these seven years have I been but the shadow of a Fool. Yet one must tune up for the Duke.

_(Strikes his viol and sings.)_

"Bird of the South, my Rondinello----"

_Cesario (calling up to watchman on the Chapel roof)._ Ho there! What news?

_A Voice._ Captain, no sail!

_Cesario._ Where sits The wind?

_Voice._ Nor' west, and north a point!

_Cesario._ Perchance They have down'd sail and creep around the flats.

_Gamba (tuning his viol)._ Flats, flats! the straight horizon, and the life These seven years laid by rule! The curst canal Drawn level through the drawn-out level sand And thistle-tufts that stink as soon as pluck'd! Give me the hot crag and the dancing heat, Give me the Abruzzi, and the cushioned thyme-- Brooks at my feet, high glittering snows above. What were thy music, viol, without a ridge?

[_Noise of commotion in the city below._

_Cesario_. Watchman, what news?

_A Voice_. Sir, on the sea no sail!

_One of the Crowd_. But through the town below a horseman spurs-- I think, Count Lucio! Yes--Count Lucio! He nears, draws rein, dismounts!

_Cesario_. Sure, he brings news.

_Gamba_. I think he brings word the Duke is sick; his loyal folk have drunk so much of his health.

[_A murmur has been growing in the town below. It breaks into cheers as Count Lucio comes springing up to the terrace._

_Lucio._ News! Where's the Regent? Eh? is Mass not said? Cesario, news! I rode across the dunes; A pilot--Nestore--you know the man-- Came panting. Sixteen sail beyond the point! That's not a galley lost!

_Crowd._ Long live the Duke!

_Lucio._ Hark to the tocsin! I have carried fire-- Wildfire! Why, where's my sister? I've a mind--

[_He strides towards the door of the Chapel; but pauses at the sound of chanting within, and comes back to Cesario._

Man, are you mute? I say the town's aflame Below! But here, up here, you stand and stare Like prisoners loosed to daylight. Rub your eyes, Believe!

_Cesario (musing)._ It has been long.

_Lucio._ As tapestry Pricked out by women's needles; point-device As saints in fitted haloes. Yet they stab, Those needles. Oh, the devil take their tongues!

_Cesario._ Why, what's the matter?

_Lucio._ P'st! another lie Against the Countess Fulvia; and the train Laid to my sister's ear. Cesario, My sister is a saint--and yet she married: Therefore should understand ... Would saints, like cobblers, Stick but to business in this naughty world! Ah, well! the Duke comes home.

_Cesario._ And what of that?

_Lucio (mocking a chant within the Chapel)._ From priests and petticoats Deliver us, Good Lord!

_Gamba (strikes a chord on viol). AMEN!_

_Cesario._ Count Lucio, These seven years agone, when the Duke sailed, You were a child--a pretty, forward boy; And I a young lieutenant of the Guard, Burning to serve abroad. But that day, rather, I clenched my nails over an inward wound: For that a something manlier than my years-- Look, bearing, what-not--by the Duke not miss'd, Condemned me to promotion: I must bide At home, command the Guard! 'Tis an old hurt, But scalded on my memory.... Well, they sailed! And from the terrace here, sick with self-pity, Wrapped in my wrong, forgetful of devoir, I watch'd them through a mist--turned with a sob-- Uptore my rooted sight-- There, there she stood; Her hand press'd to her girdle, where the babe Stirred in her body while she gazed--she gazed-- But slowly back controlled her eyes, met mine; So--with how wan, how small, how brave a smile!-- Reached me her hands to kiss ... O royal hands! What burdens since they have borne let Adria tell. But hear me swear by them, Count Lucio-- Who slights our Regent throws his glove to me.

_Lucio._ Why, soothly, she's my sister!

_Cesario._ 'But the court Is dull? No masques, few banquetings--and prayers Be long, and youth for pastime leaps the gate?' Yet if the money husbanded on feasts Have fed our soldiery against the Turk, Year after year, and still the State not starved; Was't not well done? And if, responsible To God, and lonely, she has leaned on God Too heavily for our patience, was't not wise?-- And well, though weary?

_Lucio._ I tell you, she's my sister!

_Cesario._ Well, an you will, bridle on that. Lord Lucio, You named the Countess Fulvia. To my sorrow, Two hours ago I called on her and laid her Under arrest.

_Lucio._ The devil! For what?

_Cesario._ For that A lady, whose lord keeps summer in the hills To nurse a gouty foot, should penalize His dutiful return by shutting doors And hanging out a ladder made of rope, Or prove its safety by rehearsing it Upon a heavier man.

_Lucio._ I'll go to her. Oh, this is infamous!

_Cesario._ Nay, be advised: No hardship irks the lady, save to sit At home and feed her sparrows; nor no worse Annoy than from her balcony to spy (Should the eye rove) a Switzer of the Guard At post between her raspberry-canes, to watch And fright the thrushes from forbidden fruit.

_Lucio._ Infamous! infamous!

_Cesario._ Enough, my lord: The Regent!

[_Doors of the Chapel open. The organ sounds, with voices of choir chanting the recessional. The Court enters from Mass, attending the Regent Ottilia and her son Tonino. She wears a crown and heavy dalmatic. Her brother Lucio, controlling himself with an effort, kisses her hand and conducts her to the marble bench, which serves for her Chair of State. She bows, receiving the homage of the crowd; but, after seating herself, appears for a few moments unconscious of her surroundings. Then, as her rosary slips from her fingers and falls heavily at her feet, she speaks._

_Regent._ So slips the chain linking this world with Heaven, And drops me back to earth: so slips the chain That hangs my spirit to the Redeemer's cross Above pollution in the pure swept air Whereunder frets this hive: so slips the chain-- _(She starts up)_--God! the dear sound! Was that his anchor dropped? Speak to the watchman, one! Call to the watch! What news?

_Cesario._ Aloft! What news?

_Voice above._ No sail as yet!

_Regent._ Ah, pardon, sirs! My ears are strung to-day, And play false airs invented by the wind. Methought a hawse-pipe rattled ...

_Gamba (chants to his viol). Shepherds, see-- Lo! What a mariner love hath made me!_

_Regent._ What chants the Fool?

_Gamba._ Madonna, 'tis a trifle Made by a silly poet on wives that stand All night at windows listening the surf-- _Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no!_

_Lucio._ Peace, lively! Madam, there is news--brave news! I'm from the watch-house. There the pilots tell Of sixteen sail to the southward! Sixteen sail, And nearing fast!

_Regent._ Praise God! dear Lucio!

[_She has seated herself again. She takes Lucio's hand and speaks, petting it._

What? Glowing with my happiness? That's like you. But for yourself the hour, too, holds release.

_Lucio (between sullenness and shame, with a glance at Cesario)._ "Release?"

_Regent._ You will forgive? I have great need To be forgiven: sadly I have been slack In guardianship, and by so much betrayed My promise to our mother's passing soul. Myself in cares immersed, I left the child Among his toys--and turn to find him man-- But yet so much a boy that boyhood can _(Wistfully)_ Laugh in his honest eyes? Forgive me, Lucio! Tell me, whate'er have slackened, there has slipped No knot of love. To-morrow we'll make sport, Be playmates and invent new games, and old-- Wreath flowers for crowns--

[_He drags his hand away. She gazes at him wistfully, and turns to the Captain of the Guard._

Cesario, What are the suits?

_Cesario._ They are but three to-day, Madonna. First, a scoundrel here in irons For having struck the Guard.

_Regent (eying the culprit)._ His name, I think, Is Donatello Crocco. Hey? You improve, Good man. The last time 'twas your wife you basted. At this rate, in another year or two You'll bang the Turk. Do you confess the assault?

_Regent._ Upon a promise we dismiss you. Your tavern, as it comes into our mind, Is the 'Three Cups.' So many, and no more, You'll drink to-day--have we your word? Three cups, And each a _Viva_ for the Duke's return.

_Prisoner._ Your Highness, I'll not take it at the price Of my good manners. I'm a gallant man: And who in Adria calls. 'Three cheers for the Duke!' But adds a fourth for the Duchess? Lady, nay; Grant me that fourth, or back I go to the cells!