The Purgatory of St. Patrick Part 3

There, a holy monk advising, She a saving port and shelter Found against the world's wild storms, And there died, her sin, her penance, Giving all a great example; May G.o.d rest her soul in heaven!-- Seeing that the narrow world Now took note of my offences, And that soon the very land Might reject me, I determined To re-seek my native country; For at least I there expected To be safer from my foes, In a place so long my centre And my home. The way I took And to Ireland came, which welcomed Me at first as would a mother, But a step-mother resembled Before long, for seeking a pa.s.sage Where a harbour lay protected By a mole, I found that corsairs Lay concealed within the shelter Of a little creek which his Out of view their well-armed vessel.

And of these, their captain, Philip, Took me prisoner, after efforts Made in my defence so brave, That in deference to the mettle I displayed, my life he spared.

What ensured you know already, How the wind in sudden anger Rising into raging tempest, Now chastised us in its pride, Now our lives more cruelly threatened, Making in the seas and mountains Such wild ruin and resemblance, That to mock the mountain's pride Waves still mightier forms presented, Which with catapults of crystal Made the cliffs' foundations tremble, So that neighbouring cities fell, And the sea, in scornful temper, Gathering up from its abysses The munition it collecteth, Fired upon the land its pearls In their sh.e.l.ls, wherein engendered By the swift breath of the morning In its dew, they shine resplendent Tears of ice and fire; in fine, Not in pictures so imperfect All our time to waste, the crew Went to sup in the infernal Halls themselves; I, too, a guest Would have equally attended With them, if this Patrick, here, Whom I know not why I reverence, Looking with respect and fear On his beauteous countenance ever, Had not drawn me from the sea, Where, exhausted, sinking, helpless, I drank death in every draught, Agony in each salt wave's venom.

This my history is, and now I wish neither life nor mercy, Neither that my pains should move thee, Nor my asking should compel thee, Save in this, to give me death, That thus may the life be ended Of a man who is so bad, That he scarcely can be better.*

[footnote] *See note as to Montalvan's invention of this story.

KING. Luis, though thou art a Christian, Which by me is most detested, Yet I so admire thy courage That I wish, before all present, Between thee and him to show How my power can be exerted, How it punishes as rewards, How it elevates and depresses.

And so thus my arms I give thee, That within them thus extended Thou may'st reach my heart; to thee Thus beneath my feet to tread thee; [He throws PATRICK on the ground and places his foot upon him.

The two actions signifying How the heavier scale descendeth.

And that, Patrick, thou may'st see How I value or give credit To thy threats, thy life I spare.

Vomit forth the flame incessant Of the so-called word of G.o.d, That by this thou may'st be certain I do not adore his G.o.dship, Nor his miracles have dread of.

Live then; but in such a state Of poor, mean, and abject service, As befits a useless hind In the fields; and so as shepherd I would have thee guard my flocks, Which are in these vales collected.

Let us see, if for the purpose Of this mystic fire outspreading, Being my slave, thy G.o.d will free thee From captivity and thy fetters.

[Exit.

LESBIA. Patrick moves my heart to pity.

[Exit.

POLONIA. Not so mine, for none I cherish.

Had I any, none would move me Sooner than this Luis Enius.*

[Exit.

[footnote] *It is difficult to account for Calderon giving the name of "Egerio" to the King of Ireland, when he bestows the proper one -- "Leogaire" -- on an inferior character. The name of the King of Montalvan. "Era Rey de aquella, y de otras islas comarcanas Leogardo, hijo de Neil." -- Cap. I., p. 19, ed. 1628. Calderon had to invent names for the king's daughters, as he did not find them in Montalvan. In the Book of Armagh they are called "Ethne the fair"

and "Fedelm the ruddy." -- Todd, p. 451. Miss Cusack gives the names "Ethna" and "Fethlema." -- "Life of St. Patrick", p. 291. Of their baptism, the distinguished poet to whom this drama is dedicated, has thus sung:--

"They knelt: on their heads the wave he poured Thrice, in the name of the Triune Lord: And their foreheads he signed with the Sign adored.

On Fedelm the 'Red Rose,' on Ethna 'The Fair,'

G.o.d's dew shone bright in that morning air."

- AUBREY DE VERE'S "Legends of St. Patrick".

SCENE III.

PATRICK and LUIS.

PATRICK. Luis, though a low position Mine is here, and I observe thee Raised to fortune's highest summit, Yet I feel more grief than envy At thy rise. Thou art a Christian; Show thyself one now in earnest.

LUIS. Patrick, let me now enjoy The first favours fate has sent me After so much sad misfortune.

PATRICK. One word, then (if thou wilt let me So presume), I ask of thee.

LUIS. What is that?

PATRICK. Upon this earth here, Once again, alive or dead, That we two shall meet together.

LUIS. Such a word dost ask me?

PATRICK. Yes.

LUIS. Then I give it.

PATRICK. I accept it.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

A HAMLET NEAR THE COURT OF EGERIUS.

PHILIP and LUCY.

LUCY. Pardon, if I have not known How to serve you as I ought.

PHILIP. For much more than you have thought Must you my forgiveness own.

For when I your kind face view, Pain and pleasure being at war, I have much to thank you for, And have much to pardon too.

Thanks, with which my heart is rife, Are for life restored and breath; Pardon, for you give me death, As before you gave me life.

LUCY. For such flattering declarations Rude and ignorant am I, So my arms will give reply; Which gets rid of explanations.

Let their silent interfacing Figure what my words should be.

SCENE V.

PAUL. -- THE SAME.

PAUL [aside]. Eh, sirs! what is this I see?

Some one here my wife's embracing.

What's to do? I burn, I burst.

Kill her? Yes. 'Twas fortune sent me.

One thing only doth prevent me, Which is, she might kill me first.

PHILIP. For your hospitable care, Beauteous mountaineer, I would That this ring's bright diamond could Far outshine a star of air.

LUCY. Think me not a woman who Lives intent her gain to make; But I take it for your sake.