The Dynasts

After Scene

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THE OVERWORLD

[Enter the Spirit and Chorus of the Years, the Spirit and Chorus

of the Pities, the Shade of the Earth, the Spirits Sinister and

Ironic with their Choruses, Rumours, Spirit-messengers and

Recording Angels.

Europe has now sunk netherward to its far-off position as in the

Fore Scene, and it is beheld again as a prone and emaciated figure

of which the Alps form the vertebrae, and the branching mountain-

chains the ribs, the Spanish Peninsula shaping the head of the

ecorche. The lowlands look like a grey-green garment half-thrown

off, and the sea around like a disturbed bed on which the figure

lies.]

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Thus doth the Great Foresightless mechanize

In blank entrancement now as evermore

Its ceaseless artistries in Circumstance

Of curious stuff and braid, as just forthshown.

Yet but one flimsy riband of Its web

Have we here watched in weaving--web Enorm,

Whose furthest hem and selvage may extend

To where the roars and plashings of the flames

Of earth-invisible suns swell noisily,

And onwards into ghastly gulfs of sky,

Where hideous presences churn through the dark--

Monsters of magnitude without a shape,

Hanging amid deep wells of nothingness.

Yet seems this vast and singular confection

Wherein our scenery glints of scantest size,

Inutile all--so far as reasonings tell.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

Thou arguest still the Inadvertent Mind.--

But, even so, shall blankness be for aye?

Men gained cognition with the flux of time,

And wherefore not the Force informing them,

When far-ranged aions past all fathoming

Shall have swung by, and stand as backward years?

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

What wouldst have hoped and had the Will to be?--

How wouldst have paeaned It, if what hadst dreamed

Thereof were truth, and all my showings dream?

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

The Will that fed my hope was far from thine,

One I would thus have hymned eternally:--

SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES (aerial music)

To Thee whose eye all Nature owns,

Who hurlest Dynasts from their thrones,(26)

And liftest those of low estate

We sing, with Her men consecrate!

SEMICHORUS II

Yea, Great and Good, Thee, Thee we hail,

Who shak'st the strong, Who shield'st the frail,

Who hadst not shaped such souls as we

If tendermercy lacked in Thee!

SEMICHORUS I

Though times be when the mortal moan

Seems unascending to Thy throne,

Though seers do not as yet explain

Why Suffering sobs to Thee in vain;

SEMICHORUS II

We hold that Thy unscanted scope

Affords a food for final Hope,

That mild-eyed Prescience ponders nigh

Life's loom, to lull it by-and-by.

SEMICHORUS I

Therefore we quire to highest height

The Wellwiller, the kindly Might

That balances the Vast for weal,

That purges as by wounds to heal.

SEMICHORUS II

The systemed suns the skies enscroll

Obey Thee in their rhythmic roll,

Ride radiantly at Thy command,

Are darkened by Thy Masterhand!

SEMICHORUS I

And these pale panting multitudes

Seen surging here, their moils, their moods,

All shall "fulfil their joy" in Thee

In Thee abide eternally!

SEMICHORUS II

Exultant adoration give

The Alone, through Whom all living live,

The Alone, in Whom all dying die,

Whose means the End shall justify! Amen.

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

So did we evermore, sublimely sing;

So would we now, despise thy forthshowing!

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Something of difference animates your quiring,

O half-convinced Compassionates and fond,

From chords consistent with our spectacle!

You almost charm my long philosophy

Out of my strong-built thought, and bear me back

To when I thanksgave thus. . . . Ay, start not, Shades;

In the Foregone I knew what dreaming was,

And could let raptures rule! But not so now.

Yea, I psalmed thus and thus. . . . But not so now.

SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS (aerial music)

O Immanence, That reasonest not

In putting forth all things begot,

Thou build'st Thy house in space--for what?

SEMICHORUS II

O loveless, Hateless!--past the sense

Of kindly eyed benevolence,

To what tune danceth this Immense?

SPIRIT IRONIC

For one I cannot answer. But I know

'Tis handsome of our Pities so to sing

The praises of the dreaming, dark, dumb Thing

That turns the handle of this idle show!

As once a Greek asked I would fain ask too,

Who knows if all the Spectacle be true,

Or an illusion of the gods (the Will,

To wit) some hocus-pocus to fulfil?

SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS (aerial music)

Last as first the question rings

Of the Will's long travailings;

Why the All-mover,

Why the All-prover

Ever urges on and measure out the chordless chime of Things.(27)

SEMICHORUS II

Heaving dumbly

As we deem,

Moulding numbly

As in dream

Apprehending not how fare the sentient subjects of Its scheme.

SEMICHORUS I OF THE PITIES

Nay;--shall not Its blindness break?

Yea, must not Its heart awake,

Promptly tending

To Its mending

In a genial germing purpose, and for loving-kindness sake?

SEMICHORUS II

Should it never

Curb or care

Aught whatever

Those endure

Whom It quickens, let them darkle to extinction swift and sure.

CHORUS

But--a stirring thrills the air

Like to sounds of joyance there

That the rages

Of the ages

Shall be cancelled, and deliverance offered from the darts that were,

Consciousness the Will informing, till It fashion all things fair!

THE END OF "THE DYNASTS"

September 25, 1907

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