THE DRUG-SHOP, OR, ENDYMION IN EDMONSTOUN
by: Stephen Vincent Benét (1898-1943)
- ight falls; the great jars glow against the dark,
- Dark green, dusk red, and, like a coiling snake,
- Writhing eternally in smoky gyres,
- Great ropes of gorgeous vapor twist and turn
- Within them. So the Eastern fisherman
- Saw the swart genie rise when the lead seal,
- Scribbled with charms, was lifted from the jar;
- And -- well, how went the tale? Like this, like this? . . .
- No herbage broke the barren flats of land,
- No winds dared loiter within smiling trees,
- Nor were there any brooks on either hand,
- Only the dry, bright sand,
- Naked and golden, lay before the seas.
- One boat toiled noiselessly along the deep,
- The thirsty ripples dying silently
- Upon its track. Far out the brown nets sweep,
- And night begins to creep
- Across the intolerable mirror of the sea.
- Twice the nets rise, a-trail with sea-plants brown,
- Distorted shells, and rocks green-mossed with slime,
- Nought else. The fisher, sick at heart, kneels down;
- "Prayer may appease God's frown,"
- He thinks, then, kneeling, casts for the third time.
- And lo! an earthen jar, bound round with brass,
- Lies tangled in the cordage of his net.
- About the bright waves gleam like shattered glass,
- And where the sea's rim was
- The sun dips, flat and red, about to set.
- The prow grates on the beach. The fisherman
- Stoops, tearing at the cords that bind the seal.
- Shall pearls roll out, lustrous and white and wan?
- Lapis? carnelian?
- Unheard-of stones that make the sick mind reel
- With wonder of their beauty? Rubies, then?
- Green emeralds, glittering like the eyes of beasts?
- Poisonous opals, good to madden men?
- Gold bezants, ten and ten?
- Hard, regal diamonds, like kingly feasts?
- He tugged; the seal gave way. A little smoke
- Curled like a feather in the darkening sky.
- A blinding gush of fire burst, flamed, and broke.
- A voice like a wind spoke.
- Armored with light, and turbaned terribly,
- A genie tramped the round earth underfoot;
- His head sought out the stars, his cupped right hand
- Made half the sky one darkness. He was mute.
- The sun, a ripened fruit,
- Drooped lower. Scarlet eddied o'er the sand.
- The genie spoke: "O miserable one!
- Thy prize awaits thee; come, and hug it close!
- A noble crown thy draggled nets have won
- For this that thou hast done.
- Blessed are fools! A gift remains for those!"
- His hand sought out his sword, and lightnings flared
- Across the sky in one great bloom of fire.
- Poised like a toppling mountain, it hung bared;
- Suns that were jewels glared
- Along its hilt. The air burnt like a pyre.
- Once more the genie spoke: "Something I owe
- To thee, thou fool, thou fool. Come, canst thou sing?
- Yea? Sing then; if thy song be brave, then go
- Free and released -- or no!
- Find first some task, some overmastering thing
- I cannot do, and find it speedily,
- For if thou dost not thou shalt surely die!"
- The sword whirled back. The fisherman uprose,
- And if at first his voice was weak with fear
- And his limbs trembled, it was but a doze,
- And at the high song's close
- He stood up straight. His voice rang loud and clear.
- The Song.
- Last night the quays were lighted;
- Cressets of smoking pine
- Glared o'er the roaring mariners
- That drink the yellow wine.
- Their song rolled to the rafters,
- It struck the high stars pale,
- Such worth was in their discourse,
- Such wonder in their tale.
- Blue borage filled the clinking cups,
- The murky night grew wan,
- Till one rose, crowned with laurel-leaves,
- That was an outland man.
- "Come, let us drink to war!" said he,
- "The torch of the sacked town!
- The swan's-bath and the wolf-ships,
- And Harald of renown!
- "Yea, while the milk was on his lips,
- Before the day was born,
- He took the Almayne Kaiser's head
- To be his drinking-horn!
- "Yea, while the down was on his chin,
- Or yet his beard was grown,
- He broke the gates of Micklegarth,
- And stole the lion-throne!
- "Drink to Harald, king of the world,
- Lord of the tongue and the troth!
- To the bellowing horns of Ostfriesland,
- And the trumpets of the Goth!"
- Their shouts rolled to the rafters,
- The drink-horns crashed and rang,
- And all their talk was a clangor of war,
- As swords together sang!
- But dimly, through the deep night,
- Where stars like flowers shone,
- A passionate shape came gliding --
- I saw one thing alone.
- I only saw my young love
- Shining against the dark,
- The whiteness of her raiment,
- The head that bent to hark.
- I only saw my young love,
- Like flowers in the sun --
- Her hands like waxen petals,
- Where yawning poppies run.
- I only felt there, chrysmal,
- Against my cheek her breath,
- Though all the winds were baying,
- And the sky bright with Death.
- Red sparks whirled up the chimney,
- A hungry flaught of flame,
- And a lean man from Greece arose;
- Thrasyllos was his name.
- "I praise all noble wines!" he cried,
- "Green robes of tissue fine,
- Peacocks and apes and ivory,
- And Homer's sea-loud line,
- "Statues and rings and carven gems,
- And the wise crawling sea;
- But most of all the crowns of kings,
- The rule they wield thereby!
- "Power, fired power, blank and bright!
- A fit hilt for the hand!
- The one good sword for a freeman,
- While yet the cold stars stand!"
- Their shouts rolled to the rafters,
- The air was thick with wine.
- I only knew her deep eyes,
- And felt her hand in mine.
- Softly as quiet water,
- One finger touched my cheek;
- Her face like gracious moonlight --
- I might not move nor speak.
- I only saw that beauty,
- I only felt that form
- There, in the silken darkness --
- God wot my heart was warm!
- Their shouts rolled to the rafters,
- Another chief began;
- His slit lips showed him for a Hun;
- He was an evil man.
- "Sing to the joys of women!" he yelled,
- "The hot delicious tents,
- The soft couch, and the white limbs;
- The air a steam of scents!"
- His eyes gleamed, and he wet his lips,
- The rafters shook with cheers,
- As he sang of woman, who is man's slave
- For all unhonored years.
- "Whether the wanton laughs amain,
- With one white shoulder bare,
- Or in a sacked room you unbind
- Some crouching maiden's hair;
- "This is the only good for man,
- Like spices of the South --
- To see the glimmering body laid
- As pasture to his mouth!
- "To leave no lees within the cup,
- To see and take and rend;
- To lap a girl's limbs up like wine,
- And laugh, knowing the end!"
- Only, like low, still breathing,
- I heard one voice, one word;
- And hot speech poured upon my lips,
- As my hands held a sword.
- "Fools, thrice fools of lust!" I cried,
- "Your eyes are blind to see
- Eternal beauty, moving far,
- More glorious than horns of war!
- But though my eyes were one blind scar,
- That sight is shown to me!
- "You nuzzle at the ivory side,
- You clasp the golden head;
- Fools, fools, who chatter and sing,
- You have taken the sign of a terrible thing,
- You have drunk down God with your beeswing,
- And broken the saints for bread!
- "For God moves darkly,
- In silence and in storm;
- But in the body of woman
- He shows one burning form.
- "For God moves blindly,
- In darkness and in dread;
- But in the body of woman
- He raises up the dead.
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