Chapter 12Scene 3

Darkness. The Temple of Poseidon. Polydaon enters. POLYDAON Cireas! Why, Cireas! Cireas! Knave, I call you! Is the rogue drunk or sleeps? Cireas! you, Cireas! My voice comes echoing from the hollow shrine To tell me of solitude. Where is this drunkard? A dreadful thing it is to stand alone In this weird temple. Forty years of use Have not accustomed me to its mute threatening. It seems to me as if dead victims moved With awful faces all about this stone Invisibly here palpable. And Ocean Groans ever like a wounded god aloud Against our rocky base, his voice at night Weirdly insistent. I will go and talk With the Chaldeans in their chains: better Their pleasing groans and curses than the hush. He goes out and after a while comes back, disordered. Wake, sleeping Syria, wake! Thou art violated, Thy heart cut out: thou art outraged, Syria, outraged, Thy harvests and thy safety and thy sons Already murdered! O hideous sacrilege! Who can have dared this crime? Could the slave Cireas Have ventured thus? O no, it is the proud God-hating son of Cepheus, Iolaus, And that swift stranger borne through impious air To upheave the bases of our old religion. They have rescued the Chaldeans. Cireas lies

Perseus the Deliverer Murdered perhaps on the sound-haunted cliffs Who would have checked their crime. I’ll strike the gong That only tolls when dread calamity Strides upon Syria. Wake, doomed people, wake! He rushes out. A gong sounds for some moments. It is silent and he returns, still more disordered. Wake! Wake! Do you not hear Poseidon raging Beneath the cliffs with tiger-throated menace? Do you not hear his feet upon the boulders Sounding, a thunderous report of peril, As he comes roaring up his stony ramparts To slay you? Ah, the city wakes. I hear A surge confused of hurrying, cries and tumult. What is this darkness moving on me? Gods! Where is the image? Whose is this awful godhead? The Shadow of Poseidon appears, vague and alarming at first, then distinct and terrible in the darkness. POSEIDON My victims, Polydaon, give me my victims. POLYDAON (falling prostrate) It was not I, it was not I, but others. POSEIDON My victims, Polydaon, give me my victims. POLYDAON O dire offended god, not upon me Fall thy loud scourges! I am innocent. POSEIDON How art thou innocent, when the Chaldeans Escape? Give me my victims, Polydaon.

Act III, Scene 3 POLYDAON I know not how they fled nor who released them. Gnash not thy blood-stained teeth on me, O Lord, Nor slay me with those glaring eyes. Thy voice Thunders, a hollow terror, through my soul. POSEIDON Hear me, unworthy priest. While thou art scheming For thy own petty mortal aims abroad, I am insulted in my temple, laughed at By slaves, by children done injurious wrong, My victims snatched from underneath my roof By any casual hand, my dreadful image Looking deserted on: for none avenges. POLYDAON Declare thy will, O Lord, it shall be done. POSEIDON Therefore I will awake, I will arise, And you shall know me for a god. This day The loud Assyrians shall break shouting in With angry hooves like a huge-riding flood Upon this country. The pleasant land of Syria Shall be dispeopled. Wolves shall howl in Damascus, And Gaza and Euphrates bound a desert. My resonant and cliff-o’ervaulting seas, Black-cowled, with foaming tops thundering shall climb Into your lofty seats of ease and wash them Strangled into the valleys. From the deep My ravening herds pastured by Amphitrite Shall walk upon your roads, devour your maidens And infants, tear your strong and arm`ed men Helplessly shrieking like weak-wristed women, Till all are dead. And thou, neglectful priest, Shalt go down living into Tartarus Where knives fire-pointed shall disclose thy breast

Perseus the Deliverer And pluck thy still-renewing heart from thee For ever: till the world cease shall be thy torments. POLYDAON O dreadful Lord! POSEIDON If thou wouldst shun the doom, And keep my Syria safe, discover then The rescuer of the Babylonian captives And to the monsters of my deep expose For a delicious banquet. Offer the heart Of Iolaus here still warmly alive And sobbing blood to leave his beautiful body; Slaughter on his yet not inanimate bosom The hero for whose love he braved my rage, And let the sacrilegious house of Cepheus Be blotted from the light. Thy sordid aims Put from thy heart: remember to be fearless. I will inhabit thee, if thou deserve it. He disappears thundering. POLYDAON Yes, Lord! shall not thy dreadful will be done? Phineus enters and his Tyrians with torches. PHINEUS Wherefore has the gong’s ominous voice tonight Affrighted Syria? Are you Polydaon Who crouch here? POLYDAON (rising) Welcome, King Phineus. PHINEUS Who art thou? Thine eyes roll round in a bright glaring horror

Act III, Scene 3 And rising up thou shak’st thy gloomy locks As if they were a hungry lion’s mane Preparing for the leap. Speak, Polydaon. POLYDAON Yes, I shall speak, of sacrilege and blood, Its terrible forfeit, and the wrath of Heaven. Cepheus enters with Dercetes and Syrian soldiers, Therops, Perissus and a throng of Syrians; scores of torches. CEPHEUS What swift calamity, O Polydaon, Has waked to clamorousness the fatal gong At which all Syria trembles? What is this face Thou showest like some grim accusing phantom’s In the torches’ light? Wherefore rangst thou the bell? POLYDAON It rang the doom of thee and all thy house, Cepheus. CEPHEUS My doom! PHINEUS (aside) I glimpse a striking plot And ’tis well-staged too. POLYDAON The victims are released, The victims bound for terrible Poseidon. Thou and thy blood are guilty. CEPHEUS Thou art mad!

Perseus the Deliverer POLYDAON ’Tis thou and thy doomed race are seized with madness, Who with light hearts offend against Poseidon. But they shall perish. Thou and thy blood shall perish. CEPHEUS O, thou appalst me. Wherefore rings out thy voice Against me like a clamorous bell of doom In the huge darkness? POLYDAON Poseidon’s self arose In the dim night before me with a voice As angry as the loud importunate surge Denouncing thee. Thou and thy blood shall perish. PHINEUS Cepheus, let search be made. Perhaps the victims Have not fled far, and all may yet be saved. CEPHEUS Scour, captains, scour all Syria for the fugitives. Dercetes and thy troop, down to the coast, Scan every boulder: out, out, Meriones, Callias, Oridamas and Pericarpus, Ring in the countryside with cordons armed, Enter each house, ransack most private chambers, But find them. Dercetes and the captains go out with their soldiers, the people making way for them. POLYDAON People of Syria, hearken, hearken! Poseidon for this sacrilege arouses The Assyrian from the land and from the sea His waves and all their sharp-toothed monsters: your men

Act III, Scene 3 Shall be rent and disembowelled, your women ravished, Butchered by foemen or by Ocean’s dogs Horribly eaten: what’s left, the flood shall swallow. Cries and groans. VOICES Spare us, Poseidon, spare us, dread deity! POLYDAON Would you be spared? Obey Poseidon, people. THEROPS Thou art our King, command us. POLYDAON Bring the woman, Chaldean Cassiopea, and her daughter. Tell them that Syria’s King commands them here. Therops and others go out to do his bidding. PHINEUS What mean you, priest? CEPHEUS Wherefore my queen and princess? POLYDAON I do the will of terrible Poseidon. Thou and thy blood shall perish. PHINEUS Thou then art mad! I thought this was a skilful play. Thinkst thou I will permit the young Andromeda, My bride, to be mishandled or exposed To the bloody chances of wild popular fury In such a moment?

Perseus the Deliverer POLYDAON Phineus, I know not what thou wilt permit: I know what terrible Poseidon wills. PHINEUS Poseidon! thou gross superstitious fool, Hast thou seen shadows in the night and tookst them For angry gods? POLYDAON Refrain from impious words, Or else the doom shall take thee in its net. PHINEUS Refrain thyself from impious deeds, or else A hundred Tyrian blades shall search thy brain To look for thy lost reason. POLYDAON (recoiling) Patience, King Phineus! It may be, thou shalt have thy whole desire By other means. Dercetes returns. DERCETES One of the fugitives is seized. POLYDAON Where, where? DERCETES Creeping about the sea-kissed rocks we found him Where the ship foundered, babbling greedily Of his lost wealth, in cover of the darkness. POLYDAON Now we shall know the impious hand. Tremble,

Act III, Scene 3 Tremble, King Cepheus. CEPHEUS (aside) I am besieged, undone. No doubt it is my rash-brained Iolaus Ruins us all. Soldiers enter, driving in Smerdas. SMERDAS (groaning) I am dragged back to hell. I am lost and nothing now can save me. POLYDAON Chaldean, The choice is thine. Say, wilt thou save thy life And see the green fields of thy land once more And kiss thy wife and children? SMERDAS You mock me, mock me! POLYDAON No, man! thou shalt have freedom at a price Or torture gratis. SMERDAS Price? price? I’ll give the price! POLYDAON The names of those whose impious hands released thee: Which if thou speak not, thou shalt die, not given To the dire god, for he asks other victims, But crushed with fearful tortures. SMERDAS O kind Heaven! Have mercy! Must I give her up, — that smile

Perseus the Deliverer Of sweetness and those kindly eyes, to death? It is a dreadful choice! I cannot do it. POLYDAON It was a woman did this! SMERDAS I’ll say no more. CEPHEUS I breathe again: it was not Iolaus. POLYDAON Seize him and twist him into anguished knots! Let every bone be crushed and every sinew Wrenched and distorted, till each inch of flesh Gives out its separate shriek. SMERDAS O spare me, spare me: I will tell all. POLYDAON Speak truth and I will give thee Bushels of gold and shipment to Chaldea. SMERDAS Gold? Gold? Shall I have gold? POLYDAON Thou shalt. SMERDAS (after a pause) The youth You would have taken on the beach, arrived, And his the sword bit through my iron fetters.

Act III, Scene 3 POLYDAON Palter not! Who was with him? Thou shalt have gold. SMERDAS Young Iolaus. CEPHEUS Alas! PHINEUS Thus far is well. POLYDAON Thou hast a shifty look about the eyes. Thou spokest of a woman. Was’t the Queen? Hast thou told all? His face grows pale. To torment! SMERDAS (groaning) I will tell all. Swear then I shall have gold And safety. POLYDAON By grim Poseidon’s head I swear. SMERDAS O hard necessity! The fair child princess, Andromeda, with her young slave-girl came, She was my rescuer. There is a deep silence of amazement. PHINEUS I’ll not believe this! could that gentle child Devise and execute so huge a daring? Thou liest: thou art part of some foul plot. POLYDAON He has the accent of unwilling truth.

Perseus the Deliverer Phineus, she is death’s bride, not thine. Wilt thou Be best man in that dolorous wedding? Forbear And wait Poseidon’s will. PHINEUS (low) Shall I have Syria? POLYDAON When it is mine to give thee. Therops returns. THEROPS The Queen arrives. POLYDAON Remove the merchant. The soldiers take Smerdas into the background. Cassiopea enters with Andromeda and Diomede, Nebassar and the Chaldean Guard. CASSIOPEA Keep ready hands upon your swords, Chaldeans. What is this tumult? Wherefore are we called At this dim hour and to this solemn place? POLYDAON Com’st thou with foreign falchions, Cassiopea, To brave the Syrian gods? Abandon her, Chaldeans. ’Tis a doomed head your swords encompass. CASSIOPEA Since when dost thou give thy commands in Syria And sentence queens? My husband and thy King Stands near thee; let him speak. POLYDAON Let him. There stands he.

Act III, Scene 3 CASSIOPEA Why hidest thou thine eyes, monarch of Syria, Sinking thy forehead like a common man Unkingly? What grief o’ertakes thee? POLYDAON You see he speaks not. ’Tis I command in Syria. Is’t not so, My people? THEROPS ’Tis so. POLYDAON Stand forth, Andromeda. CASSIOPEA What would you with my child? I stand here for her. POLYDAON She is accused of impious sacrilege, And she must die. CASSIOPEA (shuddering) Die! Who accuses her? POLYDAON Bring the Chaldean. DIOMEDE Oh, the merchant’s seized And all is known. Deny it, my sweet lady, And we may yet be saved. ANDROMEDA Oh poor, poor merchant! Did I unloose thy bonds in vain?

Perseus the Deliverer DIOMEDE Say nothing. ANDROMEDA And why should I conceal it, Diomede? What I had courage in my heart to do, Surely I can have courage to avow. DIOMEDE But they will kill us both. ANDROMEDA I am a princess. Why should I lie? From fear? But I am not afraid. Meanwhile the soldiers have brought Smerdas to the front. POLYDAON Look, merchant. Say before all, who rescued thee? She was it? SMERDAS It is she. Oh, do not look With that sad smile upon me. I am compelled. POLYDAON Is this the slave-girl? SMERDAS It is she. CASSIOPEA This wretch Lies at thy bidding. Put him to the question. He said he was compelled. POLYDAON I’ll not permit it.

Act III, Scene 3 PERISSUS Why, man, it is the law. We’ll not believe Our little princess did the crime. CASSIOPEA Syrians, Look at this paltering priest. Do you not see It is a plot, this man his instrument Who lies so wildly? He’ll not have him questioned. No doubt ’twas he himself released the man, — Who else could do it in this solemn temple Where human footsteps fear to tread? He uses The name of great Poseidon to conceal His plottings. He would end the line of Cepheus And reign in Syria. PERISSUS This sounds probable. VOICES Does he misuse Poseidon’s name? unbind Victims? Kill him! CASSIOPEA Look how he pales, O people! Is’t thus that great Poseidon’s herald looks When charged with the god’s fearful menaces? He diets you with forgeries and fictions. CRIES Let him be strangled! PHINEUS This is a royal woman! POLYDAON Well, let the merchant then be put to question.

Perseus the Deliverer PERISSUS Come and be tickled, merchant. I am the butcher. Do you see my cleaver? I will torture you kindly. SMERDAS O help me, save me, lady Andromeda. ANDROMEDA Oh, do not lay your cruel hands upon him. I did release him. CASSIOPEA Ah, child Andromeda. PERISSUS You, little princess! Wherefore did you this? ANDROMEDA Because I would not have their human hearts Mercilessly uprooted for the bloody Monster you worship as a god! because I am capable of pain and so can feel The pain of others! For which if you I love Must kill me, do it. I alone am guilty. POLYDAON Now, Cassiopea! You are silent, Queen. Lo, Syrians, lo, my forgeries and fictions! Lo, my vile plottings! Enough. Poseidon wills That on the beach this criminal be bound For monsters of the sea to rend in fragments, And all the royal ancient blood of Syria Must be poured richly forth to appease and cleanse. CASSIOPEA Swords from the scabbard! gyre in your King from harm, Chaldeans! Hew your way through all opposers!

Act III, Scene 3 Thou in my arms, my child Andromeda! I’ll keep my daughter safe upon my bosom Against the world. POLYDAON What dost thou, Babylonian? CASSIOPEA To the palace, My trusty countrymen! POLYDAON Oppose them, soldiers! They cheat the god of the crime-burdened heads Doomed by his just resentment. DERCETES We are few: And how shall we lay hands on royalty? POLYDAON Nebassar, darest thou oppose the gods? NEBASSAR Out of my sword’s way, priest! I do my duty. POLYDAON Draw, King of Tyre! PHINEUS ’Tis not my quarrel, priest. Nebassar and the Chaldeans with drawn swords go out from the Temple, taking the King and Queen, Andromeda and Diomede. POLYDAON People of Syria, you have let them pass!

Perseus the Deliverer You fear not then the anger of Poseidon? PERISSUS Would you have us spitted upon the Chaldean swords? Mad priest, must we be broached like joints and tossed like pancakes? We have no weapons. Tomorrow we will go to the Palace and what must be done shall be done. But ’tis not just that many should be slain for the crime of one and the house of Syria out- rooted. Follow me and observe my commands, brave aristocracy of the shop, gallant commoners of the lathe and anvil, follow Perissus. I will lead you tonight to your soft downy beds and tomorrow to the Palace. All the Syrians go out, led by Therops and Perissus. PHINEUS Thou hast done foolishly in this, O priest. Hadst thou demanded the one needful head Of Iolaus, it was easy: but now The tender beauty of Andromeda Compels remorse and the astonished people Recoil from the bold waste of royal blood Thou appointest them to spill. I see that zeal And frantic superstition are bad plotters. Henceforth I work for my sole hand, to pluck My own good from the storms of civic trouble This night prepares. He goes out with his Tyrians. POLYDAON O terrible Poseidon, Thyself avenge thyself! hurl on this people The sea and the Assyrian. Where is the power Thou saidst should tarry with me? I have failed. He remains sunk in thought for a while, then raises his head. Tomorrow, Syrian? tomorrow is Poseidon’s. Curtain