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_ ACT I
[_Scene; a rural spot; on one side, a bare Hill, on the other
an Ilex wood; a stream with reeds on its banks._]
[_The Curtain rises and discovers Tmolus seated on a throne
of turf, on his right hand Apollo with his lyre, attended
by the Muses; on the left, Pan, fauns, &c._]
[_Enter Midas and Zopyrion._]
Midas. The Hours have oped the palace of the dawn
And through the Eastern gates of Heaven, Aurora
Comes charioted on light, her wind-swift steeds,
Winged with roseate clouds, strain up the steep.
She loosely holds the reins, her golden hair,
Its strings outspread by the sweet morning breeze[,]
Blinds the pale stars. Our rural tasks begin;
The young lambs bleat pent up within the fold,
The herds low in their stalls, & the blithe cock
Halloos most loudly to his distant mates.
But who are these we see? these are not men,
Divine of form & sple[n]didly arrayed,
They sit in solemn conclave. Is that Pan, [36]
Our Country God, surrounded by his Fauns?
And who is he whose crown of gold & harp
Are attributes of high Apollo?
Zopyr. Best
Your majesty retire; we may offend.
Midas. Aye, and at the base thought the coward blood
Deserts your trembling lips; but follow me.
Oh Gods! for such your bearing is, & sure
No mortal ever yet possessed the gold
That glitters on your silken robes; may one,
Who, though a king, can boast of no descent
More noble than Deucalion's stone-formed men[,]
May I demand the cause for which you deign
To print upon this worthless Phrygian earth
The vestige of your gold-inwoven sandals,
Or why that old white-headed man sits there
Upon that grassy throne, & looks as he
Were stationed umpire to some weighty cause[?]
Tmolus. God Pan with his blithe pipe which the Fauns love
Has challenged Phoebus of the golden lyre[,]
Saying his Syrinx can give sweeter notes
Than the stringed instrument Apollo boasts.
I judge between the parties. Welcome, King,
I am old Tmolus, God of that bare Hill, [37]
You may remain and hear th' Immortals sing.
Mid. [_aside_] My judgement is made up before I hear;
Pan is my guardian God, old-horned Pan,
The Phrygian's God who watches o'er our flocks;
No harmony can equal his blithe pipe.
[Sidenote: (Shelley.)]
Apollo (sings)._
The sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie,
Curtained with star-enwoven tapestries,
From the broad moonlight of the sky,
Fanning the busy dreams from my dim eyes
Waken me when their Mother, the grey Dawn,
Tells them that dreams & that the moon is gone.
Then I arise, and climbing Heaven's blue dome,
I walk over the mountains & the waves,
Leaving my robe upon the Ocean foam,--
My footsteps pave the clouds with fire; the caves
Are filled with my bright presence & the air
Leaves the green Earth to my embraces bare.
The sunbeams are my shafts with which I kill
Deceit, that loves the night & fears the day;
All men who do, or even imagine ill
Fly me, and from the glory of my ray
Good minds and open actions take new might
Until diminished by the reign of night.
I feed the clouds, the rainbows & the flowers [38]
With their etherial colours; the moon's globe
And the pure stars in their eternal bowers
Are cinctured with my power as with a robe;
Whatever lamps on Earth or Heaven may shine
Are portions of one power, which is mine.
I stand at noon upon the peak of heaven,
Then with unwilling steps I wander down
Into the clouds of the Atlantic even--
For grief that I depart they weep & frown [;]
What look is more delightful than the smile
With which I soothe them from the western isle [?]
I am the eye with which the Universe
Beholds itself & knows it is divine.
All harmony of instrument or verse,
All prophecy, all medecine is mine;
All light of art or nature;--to my song
Victory and praise, in its own right, belong.
[Sidenote: (Shelley.)]
Pan (sings).
From the forests and highlands
We come, we come;
From the river-girt islands
W[h]ere loud waves are dumb,
Listening my sweet pipings;
The wind in the reeds & the rushes, [39]
The bees on the bells of thyme,
The birds on the myrtle bushes[,]
The cicale above in the lime[,]
And the lizards below in the grass,
Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was
Listening my sweet pipings.
Liquid Peneus was flowing,
And all dark Tempe lay
In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing
The light of the dying day
Speeded by my sweet pipings.
The Sileni, & Sylvans, & Fauns
And the nymphs of the woods & the waves
To the edge of the moist river-lawns,
And the brink of the dewy caves[,]
And all that did then attend & follow
Were silent with love, as you now, Apollo!
With envy of my sweet pipings.
I sang of the dancing stars,
I sang of the daedal Earth---
And of heaven--& the giant wars--
And Love, & death, [&] birth,
And then I changed my pipings, [40]
Singing how down the vale of Menalus,
I pursued a maiden & clasped a reed,
Gods and men, we are all deluded thus!
It breaks in our bosom & then we bleed!
All wept, as I think both ye now would
If envy or age had not frozen your blood,
At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.
Tmol. Phoebus, the palm is thine. The Fauns may dance
To the blithe tune of ever merry Pan;
But wisdom, beauty, & the power divine
Of highest poesy lives within thy strain.
Named by the Gods the King of melody,
Receive from my weak hands a second crown.
Pan. Old Grey-beard, you say false! you think by this
To win Apollo with his sultry beams
To thaw your snowy head, & to renew
The worn out soil of your bare, ugly hill.
I do appeal to Phrygian Midas here;
Let him decide, he is no partial judge.
Mid. Immortal Pan, to my poor, mortal ears
Your sprightly song in melody outweighs
His drowsy tune; he put me fast asleep,
As my prime minister, Zopyrion, knows;
But your gay notes awoke me, & to you, [41]
If I were Tmolus, would I give the prize.
Apol. And who art thou who dar'st among the Gods
Mingle thy mortal voice? Insensate fool!
Does not the doom of Marsyas fill with dread
Thy impious soul? or would'st thou also be
Another victim to my justest wrath?
But fear no more;--thy punishment shall be
But as a symbol of thy blunted sense.
Have asses' ears! and thus to the whole world
Wear thou the marks of what thou art,
Let Pan himself blush at such a judge.
[Footnote: A syllable here, a whole foot in the previous line,
appear to be missing.]
(_Exeunt all except Midas & Zopyrion._)
Mid. What said he? is it true, Zopyrion?
Yet if it be; you must not look on me,
But shut your eyes, nor dare behold my shame.
Ah! here they are! two long, smooth asses['] ears!
They stick upright! Ah, I am sick with shame!
Zopyr. I cannot tell your Majesty my grief,
Or how my soul's oppressed with the sad change
That has, alas! befallen your royal ears.
Mid. A truce to your fine speeches now, Zopyrion;
To you it appertains to find some mode
Of hiding my sad chance, if not you die.
Zopyr. Great King, alas! my thoughts are dull & slow[;]
Pardon my folly, might they not be cut, [42]
Rounded off handsomely, like human ears [?]
Mid. (_feeling his ears_)
They're long & thick; I fear 'twould give me pain;
And then if vengeful Phoebus should command
Another pair to grow--that will not do.
Zopyr. You wear a little crown of carved gold,
Which just appears to tell you are a king;
If that were large and had a cowl of silk,
Studded with gems, which none would dare gainsay,
Then might you--
Mid. Now you have it! friend,
I will reward you with some princely gift.
But, hark! Zopyrion, not a word of this;
If to a single soul you tell my shame
You die. I'll to the palace the back way
And manufacture my new diadem,
The which all other kings shall imitate
As if they also had my asses['] ears.
(_Exit._)
Zopyr. (_watching Midas off_)
He cannot hear me now, and I may laugh!
I should have burst had he staid longer here.
Two long, smooth asses' ears that stick upright;
Oh, that Apollo had but made him bray!
I'll to the palace; there I'll laugh my fill
With--hold! What were the last words that Midas said? [43]
I may not speak--not to my friends disclose
The strangest tale? ha! ha! and when I laugh
I must not tell the cause? none know the truth?
None know King Midas has--but who comes here?
It is Asphalion: he knows not this change;
I must look grave & sad; for now a smile
If Midas knows it may prove capital.
Yet when I think of those--oh! I shall die,
In either way, by silence or by speech.
[_Enter Asphalion._]
Asphal. Know you, Zopyrion?--
Zopyr. What[!] you know it too?
Then I may laugh;--oh, what relief is this!
How does he look, the courtiers gathering round?
Does he hang down his head, & his ears too?
Oh, I shall die! (_laughs._)
Asph. He is a queer old dog,
Yet not so laughable. 'Tis true, he's drunk,
And sings and reels under the broad, green leaves,
And hanging clusters of his crown of grapes.--
Zopyr. A crown of grapes! but can that hide his ears[?]
Asph. His ears!--Oh, no! they stick upright between.
When Midas saw him--
Zopyr. Whom then do you mean?
Did you not say-- [44]
Asph. I spoke of old Silenus;
Who having missed his way in these wild woods,
And lost his tipsey company--was found
Sucking the juicy clusters of the vines
That sprung where'er he trod:--and reeling on
Some shepherds found him in yon ilex wood.
They brought him to the king, who honouring him
For Bacchus' sake, has gladly welcomed him,
And will conduct him with solemnity
To the disconsolate Fauns from whom he's strayed.
But have you seen the new-fashioned diadem
[Footnote: Another halting line. Cf. again, p. [47], 1. 3;
p. [55], 1. 11; p. [59], 1.1; p. [61], 1. 1; p. [64], 1. 14.]
That Midas wears?--
Zopyr. Ha! he has got it on!--
Know you the secret cause why with such care
He hides his royal head? you have not seen--
Asph. Seen what?
Zopyr. Ah! then, no matter:-- (_turns away agitated._)
I dare not sneak or stay[;]
If I remain I shall discover all.
Asp. I see the king has trusted to your care
Some great state secret which you fain would hide.
I am your friend, trust my fidelity,
If you're in doubt I'll be your counsellor. [45]
Zopyr. (_with great importance._)
Secret, Asphalion! How came you to know?
If my great master (which I do not say)
Should think me a fit friend in whom to pour
The weighty secrets of his royal heart,
Shall I betray his trust? It is not so;--
I am a poor despised slave.--No more!
Join we the festal band which will conduct
Silenus to his woods again?
Asph. My friend,
Wherefore mistrust a faithful heart? Confide
The whole to me;--I will be still as death.
Zopyr. As death! you know not what you say; farewell[!]
A little will I commune with my soul,
And then I'll join you at the palace-gate.
Asph. Will you then tell me?--
Zopyr. Cease to vex, my friend,
Your soul and mine with false suspicion, (_aside_) Oh!
I am choked! I'd give full ten years of my life
To tell, to laugh--& yet I dare not speak.
Asph. Zopyrion, remember that you hurt [46]
The trusting bosom of a faithful friend
By your unjust concealment. (_Exit._)
Zopyr. Oh, he's gone!
To him I dare not speak, nor yet to Lacon;
No human ears may hear what must be told.
I cannot keep it in, assuredly;
I shall some night discuss it in my sleep.
It will not keep! Oh! greenest reeds that sway
And nod your feathered heads beneath the sun,
Be you depositaries of my soul,
Be you my friends in this extremity
I shall not risk my head when I tell you
The fatal truth, the heart oppressing fact,
(_stooping down & whispering_)
(_Enter Midas, Silenus & others, who fall back during
the scene; Midas is always anxious about his crown, &
Zopyrion gets behind him & tries to smother his laughter._)
Silen. (_very drunk_) Again I find you, Bacchus, runaway!
Welcome, my glorious boy! Another time
Stray not; or leave your poor old foster-father
In the wild mazes of a wood, in which
I might have wandered many hundred years,
Had not some merry fellows helped me out,
And had not this king kindly welcomed me,
I might have fared more ill than you erewhile
In Pentheus' prisons, that death fated rogue.
Bac. (_to Midas._) To you I owe great thanks & will reward
Your hospitality. Tell me your name
And what this country is.
Midas. My name is Midas--
The Reeds (_nodding their heads_).
Midas, the king, has the ears of an ass. [49]
Midas. (_turning round & seizing Zopyrion_).
Villain, you lie! he dies who shall repeat
Those traitrous words. Seize on Zopyrion!
The Reeds. Midas, the king, has the ears of an ass.
Mid. Search through the crowd; it is a woman's voice
That dares belie her king, & makes her life
A forfeit to his fury.
Asph. There is no woman here.
Bac. Calm yourself, Midas; none believe the tale,
Some impious man or gamesome faun dares feign
In vile contempt of your most royal ears.
Off with your crown, & shew the world the lie!
Mid. (_holding his crown tight_)
Never! What[!] shall a vile calumnious slave
Dictate the actions of a crowned king?
Zopyrion, this lie springs from you--you perish!
Zopy. I, say that Midas has got asses' ears?
May great Apollo strike me with his shaft
If to a single soul I ever told
So false, so foul a calumny!
Bac. Midas! [50]
The Reeds. Midas, the king, has the ears of an ass.
Bac. Silence! or by my Godhead I strike dead
Who shall again insult the noble king.
Midas, you are my friend, for you have saved
And hospitably welcomed my old faun;
Choose your reward, for here I swear your wish,
Whatever it may be, shall be fulfilled.
Zopyr. (aside)_ Sure he will wish his asses' ears in Styx.
Midas. What[!] may I choose from out the deep, rich mine
Of human fancy, & the wildest thoughts
That passed till now unheeded through my brain,
A wish, a hope, to be fulfilled by you?
Nature shall bend her laws at my command,
And I possess as my reward one thing
That I have longed for with unceasing care.
Bac. Pause, noble king, ere you express this wish[.]
Let not an error or rash folly spoil
My benefaction; pause and then declare,
For what you ask shall be, as I have sworn.
Mid. Let all I touch be gold, most glorious gold!
Let me be rich! and where I stretch my hands, [51]
(That like Orion I could touch the stars!)
Be radiant gold! God Bacchus, you have sworn,
I claim your word,--my ears are quite forgot!
The Reeds. Midas, the king, has the ears of an ass.
Mid. You lie, & yet I care not--
Zopyr. (_aside to Midas_) Yet might I
But have advised your Majesty, I would
Have made one God undo the other's work--
Midas. (_aside to Zopyr_).
Advise yourself, my friend, or you may grow
Shorter by a head ere night.--I am blessed,
Happier than ever earthly man could boast.
Do you fulfil your words?
Bac. Yes, thoughtless man!
And much I fear if you have not the ears
You have the judgement of an ass. Farewel!
I found you rich & happy; & I leave you,
Though you know it not, miserably poor.
Your boon is granted,--touch! make gold! Some here
Help carry old Silenus off, who sleeps
The divine sleep of heavy wine. Farewel!
Mid. Bacchus, divine, how shall I pay my thanks[?]
(_Exeunt._)
END OF FIRST ACT. _
Read next: Midas: A Drama In 2 Acts: Act 2
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