Part 21 (1/2)

CHRYSANTHUS.

What?

DARIA.

To be a G.o.d, and die, Doth imply a contradiction.

And if thou dost still deny To my G.o.d the name divine, And reject him in thy scorn For beginning, I opine, If thy G.o.d could die, that mine Might as easily be born.

CHRYSANTHUS.

Thou dost argue with great skill, But thou must remember still, That He hath, this G.o.d of mine, Human nature and divine, And that it has been His will As it were His power to hide-- G.o.d made man--man deified-- When this sinful world He trod, Since He was not born as G.o.d, And it was as man He died.

DARIA.

Does it not more greatness prove, As among the beauteous stars, That one deity should be Mars, And another should be Jove, Than this blending G.o.d above With weak man below? To thee Does not the twin deity Of two G.o.ds more power display, Than if in some mystic way G.o.d and man conjoined could be?

CHRYSANTHUS.

No, I would infer this rather, If the G.o.d-head were not one, Each a separate course could run: But the untreated Father, But the sole-begotten Son, But the Holy Spirit who Ever issues from the two, Being one sole G.o.d, must be One in power and dignity:-- Until thou dost hold this true, Till thy creed is that the Son Was made man, I cannot hear thee, Cannot see thee or come near thee, Thee and death at once to shun.

DARIA.

Stay, my love may so be won, And if thou wouldst wish this done, Oh! explain this mystery!

What am I to do, ah! me, That my love may thus be tried?

CARPOPHORUS (within).

Seek, O soul! seek Him who died Solely for the love of thee.

CHRYSANTHUS.

All that I could have replied Has been said thus suddenly By this voice that, sounding near, Strikes upon my startled ear Like the summons of my death.

DARIA.

Ah! what frost congeals my breath, Chilling me with icy fear, As I hear its sad lament: Whence did sound the voice? [Enter Polemius and soldiers.

POLEMIUS.

From here: 'T is, Chrysanthus, my intent Thus to place before thy sight-- Thus to show thee in what light I regard thy restoration Back to health, the estimation In which I regard the wight Who so skilfully hath cured thee.

A surprise I have procured thee, And for him a fit reward: Raise the curtain, draw the cord, See, 't is death! If this . . .

(A curtain is drawn aside, and Carpophorus is seen beheaded, the head being at some distance from the body.)

CHRYSANTHUS.

I freeze!--

POLEMIUS.

Is the cure of thy disease, What must that disease have been!

'T is Carpophorus. . . .

DARIA.

Dread scene!

POLEMIUS.

He who with false science came Not to give thee life indeed, But that he himself should bleed:-- That thy fate be not the same, Of his mournful end take heed: Do not thou that dost survive, My revenge still further drive, Since the sentence seems misread-- The physician to be dead, And the invalid alive.--

CHRYSANTHUS.

It were cruelty extreme, It were some delirious dream, That could see in this the cure Of the ill that I endure.

POLEMIUS.