Psychologies by Sir Ross Ronald (ebook reader library TXT) 📕
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Title: Psychologies
Author: Ronald Ross
Release Date: March 13, 2015 [EBook #48485]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PSYCHOLOGIES ***
Produced by David T. Jones, Mardi Desjardins, Ross Cooling
& the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at
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PSYCHOLOGIES
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
BOOKS OF VERSE
PHILOSOPHIES
THE SETTING SUN
FABLES
NEW NOVEL
REVELS OF ORSERA
PSYCHOLOGIES
BY RONALD ROSS
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.
1919
All Rights Reserved
These five studies are parts of a series of which I hope to publish more examples at a later date.
The first two originally appeared in The Nation of September 27th and December 13th, 1913. The last piece contains passages from a drama called Edgar, published in Madras in 1883. The Marsh was intended to be a melodrama, but the music for it has not yet been developed.
My thanks are due to Mr. John Masefield and Mr. Cloudesley Brereton for helping me in the correction of the proofs.
The Author.
PSYCHOLOGIES
OTHOOtho.
Soldiers.
[After Otho had been partially defeated by Vitellius, his soldiers clamoured to be led again to battle. Otho refused in the manner shown here in brief.]
Soldiers.Once more to battle, Otho!
Otho. Soldiers.Once more to battle, Otho!No, not for Rome’s sake.
Soldiers.Cæsar, once more!
Otho. Soldiers.Cæsar, once more!Is Rome forgotten then?
Soldiers.To battle, Cæsar!
Big Soldier. Soldiers.To battle, Cæsar!Hear us, little Cæsar!
Bearded Soldier.Are we, then, dogs that Cæsar will not lead us?
Soldiers.Ah!
Bearded Soldier.Did we fly? Are we mercenaries?
Soldiers.Ah!
Young Soldier.Blood, blood, blood!
Big Soldier. Young Soldier.Blood, blood, blood!Listen, pretty one, listen!
Soldiers.Once more, Otho, once more!
Centurion. Soldiers.Once more, Otho, once more!You mongrels, peace!
Small Soldier.I smoke for battle, Cæsar. I’ll fail thee no more.
Soldiers.God Cæsar, lead us!
Young Soldier(beating his shield). Blood, blood,
blood, blood, blood!
Soldiers. To battle, Cæsar!
Bearded Soldier. Soldiers. To battle, Cæsar!Are we Egyptians?
Centurion. Bearded Soldier. Soldiers. To battle, Cæsar!Are we Egyptians?Peace!
Big Soldier.Hear, pretty one, hear!
Otho. Big Soldier.Hear, pretty one, hear!For this your love these thanks.
For your great hearts my heart. My blood for yours
As yours would flow for mine. This life for all,
And for my country.
Soldier. And for my country.Let us die for it then.
Another.These kisses for your feet.
Young Soldier(gashing his arm). This blood to wash them!
Another(doing the same). And this to keep you Cæsar.
Otho. Another(doing the same). And this to keep you Cæsar.I am that—
And would not be it. For about the world
The warlike pest is blown, and Cæsar stands
Knee-deep in blood, or is not Cæsar. Cease!
Keep me no more with Fortune. She and I
Are wedded-weary of each other.
Soldiers. Are wedded-weary of each other.War! War!
Centurion.Dogs! Listen while great Cæsar speaks.
Soldiers. Centurion.Dogs! Listen while great Cæsar speaks.To war!
Old Soldier.See, Cæsar, how these wounds burst out once more
With blood that clamours to be shed for thee!
Otho.For this great love my thanks, brave hearts. My tears
Do thank you. So my country’s bitter wounds
Burst out with blood once more for me. O there!
Too much already have those dreadful wounds
Bled gouts and gushes of black blood for me—
For nothing. What am I—no god, a man—
To loose the life of myriads and to make
Italy a charnel for a name? Enough.
The battle was against us. Let it be.
The gods have spoken, and love not to warn
In vain. I am resolved. I’ll war no more.
Soldiers.Ah! Ah!
Small Soldier. Soldiers.Ah! Ah!We are not vanquisht!
Otho. Small Soldier. Soldiers.Ah! Ah!We are not vanquisht!But not victors.
The omens are adverse. Vitellius wins.
What matter if he win? So let him win.
Shall Rome be river’d with her children’s blood
That he or I should wear a purple rag?
What is’t to Rome who should be Cæsar? Hear.
We Cæsars rise, and rule, and rot—yet are
But as the names of nothing for a time;
The marks on foolish calendars of days
For farmers’ fruit-trees and memorial stones—
Notches on sticks, and gossip for winter nights;
Add not a corngrain to the goodman’s store,
A word to wisdom, nor a stave to song;
Nor worth the delving of a ditch to hide
Our bones in, less a dreadful sepulchre
To hold the harvest of a continent.
For which of us shall Italy be more fair?
Will yonder sun more brightly beam for me
Than for Vitellius? Or her labour’d fields
More richly bear, her rivers run, her hills
Brighten the more, for me than for Vitellius?
Upon the sands the silvery waters play;
The deep endellèd woods are rich with flowers;
And all her maidens call. Laughing they call
Amid the morning dew: but not the more
For me than for Vitellius. Let him reign!
I will contend with him in battle no more;
I will contend with him in nobleness.
So let him then give Rome a Cæsar. I
Will give her peace.
Soldiers. Will give her peace.Cæsar, Otho, Cæsar!
Young Soldier.Make way there, comrades; I’ve a word to move him. (He stabs himself.)
See, Cæsar, what we dare for thee. If thus
For nothing we die—how shall we die for thee? (He dies.)
(Otho covers his face. Silence.)
Otho.But ere I give it I must win that peace.
Ah, thou hast taught me how to win it, friend.
Give me his sword that I may kiss his blood.
O Italy, O Rome, if thus for me
Thy children die, how should I die for thee?
(He stabs himself. The soldiers rage round him.)
Soldier.O noble Cæsar!
Centurion. Soldier.O noble Cæsar!Back! let him have more air.
Soldier.He is not dead.
Centurion. Soldier.He is not dead.Fall back, you dogs!
Soldier. Centurion. Soldier.He is not dead.Fall back, you dogs!He dies.
Otho(dying). He gives thee Cæsar. I will give thee—peace.
Soldier.I’ll see him die at least.
Soldiers. Soldier.I’ll see him die at least.Hack him to death
For breathing Cæsar’s air.
Soldier. For breathing Cæsar’s air.Cæsar, I follow thee.
Another.And I.
Another. Another.And I.The sun is set with him.
Another. Another. Another.And I.The sun is set with him.You cowards!
Because you ran in battle he dies.
Another. Because you ran in battle he dies.Who ran?
Another.You.
Another(striking him). Run then after that.
Centurion. Undisciplined dogs.
More air, you curs!
Soldier. More air, you curs!He dies.
Soldiers. Soldier. More air, you curs!He dies.Cæsar! Cæsar!
(Otho dies.)
THE TRIUMPHTheodora.
Ostyn.
A Forest of Great Trees. Tempest.
Enter Theodora, followed by Ostyn waving a sword.
Theodora.Triumph, my friend!
Ostyn. Theodora.Triumph, my friend!So perish all oppressors!
Theodora.So let them die!
Ostyn. Theodora.So let them die!So let them perish all!
Theodora.So let God help us ever!
Ostyn. Theodora.So let God help us ever!And for ever!
Theodora.God has been with us.
Ostyn. Theodora.God has been with us.Let us kneel, dear friend,
And thank Him. Aye, before this bleeding sword,
As at an altar, let us kneel to Him.
Theodora.Whose justice, smiting in your hand, laid low
My children’s murderer!
(They kneel before the sword, laid on the grass. The tempest pauses for a moment. The sun gleams on the sword.)
My children’s murderer!From this dungeon’d world,
Where death and madness fill the dark with shrieks,
We thank Thee, uttermost God, for that Thy light
Hath smitten one moment for us. From Thy throne
The lightning came; the bright exceeding flash
Came down and smote him; the lightning of Thy wrath
Devour’d him.
Ostyn. Devour’d him.Fearless he stood aloft, and strong;
Fearless of death and lord of many crimes.
Men crept beneath him. He was terrible
And took them by the scruff and flung them down
For pleasure.
Theodora. For he was fill’d with hate and love;
And where his love fell, fell his hate also,
Like thunder blasting that it kisses.
Ostyn. Like thunder blasting that it kisses.Mighty,
His people groan’d beneath him; for he slew
A pathway to his passions.
Theodora. A pathway to his passions.My lord he slew,
Beloved; my children, for I scorn’d him.
Ostyn. Beloved; my children, for I scorn’d him.Herself,
Like that dark angel leaping down from heaven,
He visited.
Theodora.Like that dark angel came.
Ostyn.But she made ready the hidden sword. O God,
Hear! She made ready the sword. Hear, O God.
The sword she laid in secret. God of Wrath,
Be with us for our cause was just.
Theodora. Be with us for our cause was just.He fell;
Not like a tyrant
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