The Purgatory of St. Patrick | Page 5

PURGATORY,
AS TOLD BY CALDERON,
IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY
THE AUTHOR.
PERSONS.

EGERIUS, King of Ireland.
PATRICK.
LUIS ENIUS.
A
GOOD ANGEL.
A BAD ANGEL.
PHILIP.
LEOGAIRE.
A
CAPTAIN.
POLONIA, Daughter of the King.
LESBIA, her Sister.

PAUL, a Peasant.
LUCY, his Wife.
Two Canons Regular.
Two
Peasants.
An Old Countryman.
A Muffled Figure.
Attendants,
Friars, and others.

The Scene passes in Ireland, in the Court of King Egerius, and other
parts.
THE PURGATORY OF SAINT PATRICK.

ACT THE FIRST.
THE SEA-SHORE, WITH PRECIPITOUS CLIFFS.
SCENE I.
The King EGERIUS, clad in skins, LEOGAIRE, POLONIA, LESBIA,
and a Captain.
KING [furious]. Here let me die. Away!
LEOGAIRE. Oh, stop, my lord!
CAPTAIN. Consider . . .
LESBIA. Listen . . .
POLONIA. Stay . . .
KING. Yes, from this rocky height,
Nigh to the sun, that with one
starry light
Its rugged brow doth crown,
Headlong among the salt
waves leaping down
Let him descend who so much pain perceives;

There let him raging die who raging lives.
LESBIA. Why wildly seekest thou the sea?
POLONIA. Thou wert asleep, my lord; what could it be?
KING. Every torment that doth dwell
For ever with the thirsty fiends
of hell --
Dark brood of that dread mother,
The seven-necked snake,
whose poisoned breath doth smother
The fourth celestial sphere;
In
fine, its horror and its misery drear
Within me reach so far,
That I
myself upon myself make war,
When in the arms of sleep
A living
corse am I, for it doth keep
Such mastery o'er my life, that, as I dream,

A pale foreshadowing threat of coming death I seem.

POLONIA. How could a dream, my lord, provoke you so?
KING. Alas! my daughters, listen, you shall know.
From out the lips
of a most lovely youth
(And though a miserable slave, in sooth
I
dare not hurt him, and I speak his praise),
Well, from the mouth of a
poor slave, a blaze
Of lambent lustre came,
Which mildly burned in
rays of gentlest flame;
Till reaching you,
The living fire at once
consumed ye two.
I stood betwixt ye both, and though I sought
To
stay its fury, the strange fire would not
Molest or wound me, passing
like the wind,
So that despairing, blind,
I woke from out a deep
abysm
Of dream, a lethargy, a paroxysm;
But find my pains the
same,
For still it seems to me I see that flame,
And flying, at every
turn
See you consumed; but now I also burn.*
[footnote] *The Dream of Egerius, as given by Calderon, agrees
substantially with Jocelin's description, and differs only in one slight
particular (the number of the flames) from that in Montalvan's "Vida y
Purgatorio de San Patricio". In the latter, the name of the Irish prince to
whom Patrick was sold is not given; in Jocelin he is called "Milcho."
Calderon was either ignorant of this, and gave the king a name that was
purely imaginary, or, considering it less musical than he would wish,
gave him the more harmonious one of Egerio. The following is
Jocelin's version: "And Milcho beheld a vision in the night: and behold
Patrick entered his palace as all on fire, and the flames, issuing from his
mouth, and from his nose, and from his eyes, and from his ears, seemed
to burn him; but Milcho repelled from himself the flaming hair of the
boy, nor did it prevail to touch him any nearer; but the flame, being
spread, turned aside to the right and catching on his two little daughters,
who were lying in one bed, burned them even to ashes: then the south
wind blowing strongly dispersed their ashes over many parts of
Ireland." -- "Jocelin's Life of St. Patrick, translated by Swift" (Dublin,
1804), pp. 17, 18.
LESBIA. Light phantoms these,
Chimeras which an entrance find
with ease
Into the dreamer's brain.
[A trumpet sounds.
But
wherefore sounds this trumpet?

CAPTAIN. It is plain
Ships are approaching to our port below.
POLONIA. Grant me thy leave, great lord, since thou dost know A
trumpet in my ear
Sounds like a siren's voice, serene and clear;

Ever to war inclined,
In martial music my chief joy I find;
Its
clangour and its din
Lead my rapt senses on: for I may win
Through
it my highest fame,
When soaring to the sun on waves of flame,
Or
wings as swift, my proud name shall ascend,
There it may be with
Pallas to contend.
[Aside.
A stronger motive urges me to go:
If it
is Philip's ship I wish to know.
[Exit.
LEOGAIRE. Descend, my lord, with me
Down where the
foam-curled head of the blue sea
Bows at the base of this majestic hill,

Whose sands, like chains of gold, restrain its wilder will.
CAPTAIN. Let it divert thy care,
This snow-white monster fair,

Whose waves of dazzling hue
Shape silver frames round mirrors
sapphire blue.
KING. Nothing can give relief;
Nothing can now divert me from my
grief;
That mystic fire will give my life no rest,--
My heart an Etna
seems within my breast.
LESBIA. Is any sight more fair? can aught surpass
That of a vessel
breaking through the glass
Of crystal seas, and seeming there to be,

As with light