Festus

soonest and most utterly.
The moral of the world’s great fable, life.
All we enjoy seems given to deceive,
Or may be, undeceive us; who cares which?
And when the sum is done, and we have proved it,
Why work it over and over still again?
I am not what I would be. Hear me, God!
And speak to me in thine invisible likeness
The wind, as once of yore. Let me be pure!
Oh! I wish I was a pure child again,
As ere the clear could trouble me: when life
Was sweet and calm as is a sister’s kiss;
And not the wild and whirlwind touch of passion,
Which though it hardly light upon the lip,
With breathless swiftness sucks the soul out of sight
So that we lose it, and all thought of it.
What is this life wherein Thou hast founded me,
But a bright wheel which burns itself away,
Benighting even night with its grim limbs,
When it hath done and fainted into darkness?
Flesh is but fiction, and it flies away;
The gaunt and ghastly thing we bear about us
And which we hate and fear to look upon
Is truth; in death’s dark likeness limned⁠—no more.

VI

Scene⁠—Anywhere.

	Festus and Lucifer meeting.
Festus	God hath refused me: wilt thou do it for me? Or shall I end with both? remake myself?
Lucifer	Now that is the one thing which I cannot do. Am I not open with thee? why choose that?
Festus	Because I will it. Thou art bound to obey.
Lucifer	The world bears marks of my obedience.
Festus	Off! I am torn to pieces. Let me try And gather up myself into a man, As once I was. I have done with thee! Dost hear?
Lucifer	Thou canst not mean this.
Festus	Once for all⁠—I do.
Lucifer	It is men who are deceivers⁠—not the Devil. The first and worst of all frauds is to cheat Oneself. All sin is easy after that.
Festus	I feel that we must part: part now or never; And I had rather of the two it were now.
Lucifer	This is my last walk through my favourite world: And I had hoped to have enjoyed it with thee. For thee I quitted Hell; for thee I warped And shrivelled up my soul into a man: For thee I shed my shining wings; for thee Put on this mask of flesh, this mockery Of motion, and this seeming shape like thine. And by my woe, I swear that were I now, For thy false heart, to give my spirit spring, I would scatter soul and body both to Hell, And let one burn the other.
Festus	If thou darest! Lift but the finger of a thought of ill Against me, and⁠—thou durst not. Mark, we part.
Lucifer	Well; as thou wilt. Remember that thy heart Will shed its pleasures as thine eye its tears; And both leave loathsome furrows.
Festus	Thinkest thou That I will have no pleasures without thee, Who marrest all thou makest and even more?
Lucifer	Thou canst not; save indeed some poor trite thing Called moderation, every one can have; And modesty, God knows, is suffering.
Festus	Now will I prove thee liar for that word, And that the very vastest out of Hell. With perfect condemnation I abjure My soul; my nature doth abhor itself; I have a soul to spare! Goes.
Lucifer	A hundred, I. I have him yet: for he is mine to tempt. Gold hath the hue of hell flames: but for him I will lay some brilliant and delicious lure Which shall be worth perdition to a seraph. Most men glide quietly and deeply down: Some seek the bottom like a cataract. Now he shall find it, seek it how he will. None ever went without once taking breath. It is passion plunges men into mine arms; But it matters not; Hell burns before them all. It is by Hell-light they do their chiefest deeds; And by Hell-light they shine unto each other; And Hell through life’s thick fog ares red and round; And but for Hell they would grope in utter dark.

VII

Scene⁠—A country town⁠—Marketplace⁠—Noon.

	Lucifer and Festus.
Lucifer	These be the toils and cares of mighty men! Earth’s vermin are as fit to fill her thrones As these high Heaven’s bright seats.
Festus	Men’s callings all Are mean and vain; their wishes more so: oft The man is bettered by his part or place. How slight a chance may raise or sink a soul!
Lucifer	What men call accident is God’s own part. He lets ye work your will⁠—it is His own: But that ye mean not, know not, do not, He doth.
Festus	What is life worth without a heart to feel The great and lovely, and the poetry And sacredness of things? for all things are Sacred⁠—the eye of God is on them all. And hallows all unto it. It is fine To stand upon some lofty mountain-thought And feel the spirit stretch into a view; To joy in what might be if will and power For good would work together but one hour. Yet millions never think a noble thought: But with brute hate of brightness bay a mind Which drives the darkness out of them, like hounds. Throw but a false glare round them, and in shoals They rush upon perdition: that’s the race. What charm is in this world-scene to such minds Blinded by dust? What can they do in Heaven, A state of spiritual means and ends? Thus must I doubt⁠—perpetually doubt.
Lucifer	Who never doubted never half believed. Where doubt there truth is⁠—’tis her shadow. I Declare unto thee that the past is not. I have looked over all life, yet never seen The age that had been. Why then fear or dream About the future? Nothing but what is, is; Else God were not the Maker that He seems, As constant in creating as in being. Embrace the present! Let the future pass. Plague not thyself about a future. That Only which comes direct from God, His spirit, Is deathless. Nature gravitates without Effort; and so all mortal natures fall Deathwards. All aspiration is a toil; But inspiration cometh from above, And is no labour. The earth’s inborn strength Could never lift her up to yon stars, whence She fell; nor human soul, by native worth, Claim Heaven as birthright, more than man may call Cloudland his home. The soul’s inheritance, Its birth-place, and its death-place, is of earth, Until God maketh earth