



Produced by David Garcia, David E. Brown, and the Online
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  VIRGINIA
  A Tragedy

  AND OTHER POEMS

  MARION FORSTER GILMORE




  VIRGINIA

  A Tragedy

  AND

  OTHER POEMS

  BY

  MARION FORSTER GILMORE

  JOHN P. MORTON & COMPANY
  Incorporated

  LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY
  1910


  COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY
  MARION FORSTER GILMORE




Dedication


  TO MY FATHER

  Years can not cloud the light of your clear eyes,
  Steadfast and bright with high integrity;
  Nor rob your spirit of the strength that lies
  On those firm lips; nor dim the purity
  Of a high soul, which bears the shield of Love
  Untarnished, as it was upon the day
  When One, with tender faith, desired to prove
  Her "Royal Knight," and gave her heart away.
  Bear her bright shield, and smile, as years roll by--
  Years that have crowned you with the priceless crown
  Of steadfast faith and worldwide charity--
  Until you reap the joy that you have sown,
  In that near land, where, with a light divine,
  The eyes you love through all the ages shine.




[Thanks are due to the proprietors of The Cosmopolitan Magazine and
Leslie's Weekly, for their courtesy in allowing the republication herein
of a number of poems which have previously appeared in issues of their
copyrighted magazines.]




CONTENTS


                                         PAGE

  VIRGINIA                                  1


  Stewardship                              61

  The Sea Gull                             62

  Mt. Vernon                               63

  My Mother                                64

  The Cradle Song                          64

  Out of the Dark                          65

  Niobe                                    66

  To the Genius of Death, by Canova        66

  To the Winged Victory of Samothrace      67

  Beatrice Triumphant                      68

  The Call of the Irish Sea                68

  The Lion of Lucerne                      69

  Sonnet to Niagara Falls                  70

  The Lost Heart                           70

  Is He Not Mine?                          71

  Two Gifts                                71

  The Moonflower                           72

  Three Kisses                             72

  A Song of the West                       73

  To Esther                                74

  The Thrush                               75

  The Light of the Star                    76

  The Message of the Pines                 77

  The Lost Sunbeam                         78

  Heritage                                 79




VIRGINIA

A Tragedy




CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY

  APPIUS CLAUDIUS,
  Chief of the Ten and lawgiver of the Romans.

  MARCUS CLAUDIUS,
  His client.

  OPPIUS,
  One of the Ten.

  VIRGINIUS,
  A Roman centurion; a plebeian.

  ICILIUS,
  A tribune of the commons and lover to Virginia.

  SICINIUS,
  A plebeian soldier and an enemy of the Decemvirs.

  HORATIUS,
  GALBA,
  MARIUS,
  HORTENSIUS,
  Four Roman citizens.

  TIBERIUS,
  A boy of noble birth; brother to Cornelia.

  THE TEN DECEMVIRS.

  A PORTER.


  VIRGINIA,
  Daughter of Virginius.

  CORNELIA,
  A patrician lady, secretly betrothed to Sicinius.

  CAMILLA,
  Nurse to Virginia.

  JULIA,
  A maid.

  A SIBYL.

  A SLAVE GIRL IN THE HOUSE OF APPIUS CLAUDIUS.

  SOLDIERS, LICTORS, WOMEN, RABBLE, AND SERFS.


  _Setting--Rome._ _Time--During Supremacy of the Decemvirs._


    ACT I--Scene I--The Forum. Scene II--A Street in Rome.

    ACT II--Scene I--The House of Appius. Scene II--Women's
    Apartments in the House of Virginius. Scene III--Garden in House
    of Virginius. Scene IV--Home of Cornelia.

    ACT III--Scene I--The Forum. Scene II--Home of Virginius. Scene
    III--The Forum.




VIRGINIA

A Tragedy




ACT I.


Scene I--The Forum.

    _A multitude of citizens gathered therein. Disturbance shown
      among them by sullen looks and murmurings. Four citizens, two in
      patrician and two in plebeian garments, confer together._

  _1st Cit._ Enough, enough! I see we all agree
  Upon this common cause of our grievance;
  Our ranks, our unmixed blood, our differences,
  Are all forgotten--nay, methinks they shall
  In time together mingle when our blood
  Shall be poured forth in this most righteous cause.

  _2nd Cit._ As ever art thou eloquent, O Marius,
  And just; Brutus himself were not more so.
  Patrician and plebeian, equalized
  By common woe, together whisper menace
  To those who work such havoc as, indeed,
  Was never known in Rome until to-day.

  _3rd Cit._ Ye two are nobles; we, the commons are;
  Yet all are leveled by the grief we feel
  For Rome, our mother city, who so low
  Hath fall'n. Hark! the multitude itself
  Is wroth as we, yet, e'en as we, it lacks
  The courage needful for this fierce occasion.

  _4th Cit._ Ay, list indeed! Mark how the murmur swells!

    [_They turn, and follow with their eyes the gaze of the Roman
      mob._

  _Voices of lictors_ (_without_). Make way, ye Romans, way for the
    noble Ten!

  _3rd Cit._ Pah! they announce them like to royal kings!

  _1st Cit._ Tyrants are ceremonious to the letter.

  _Multitude._ All hail to the lawgivers! Life and peace
  Unto the Ten!

  _2nd Cit._ Jove's lightning strike them down,
  The turncoats! Ah, the cowards and the curs!
  Perfidious gang of fawners! Do they thus
  Forget their wrongs in the wrongdoer's presence,
  Or veil them with that slime, false loyalty?

    [_Enter the Ten Decemvirs, each preceded by twelve lictors armed
      with fasces._

  _4th Cit._ Lo! the presumption! How each lictor bears
  Amongst his rods an axe to indicate
  That life and death lie in his master's word.
  Once was each tyrant pleased with one attendant
  The way to clear--now must they number twelve.

    [_The Decemvirs pause a space, the while their leader, Appius
      Claudius, addresses the assembled citizens._

  _Appius._ Ye Roman citizens! Unto our ears
  Murmurings hath arrived laden with strife;
  And though this day ye have protested loud
  Your loyalty, and hailed us with acclaim,
  Ye seem but ill-content. This must not be.
  We have been lenient to every class--
  What ye demand in reason ye receive.
  Ye called for written laws, and lo! they hang
  Within the Forum that all eyes may read.
  Yet, mark ye! Read not only, but obey,
  Else blood shall pour in torrents on these stones.

    [_Low, angry murmur._

  What! would ye show your teeth, ye nobles brave,
  Would bare your fangs, O ye plebeian dogs!
  Your teeth are drawn, patricians, and your fangs
  Are dull, indeed, ye curs!      [_A hissing protest._
  What, open schism?
  Ho, lictors, strike! Ah! would ye calmer grow?
  Lictors, enough! Now must we on. Our time
  Is pressing.

    [_As he is on the point of departing with his colleagues, his
      gaze is arrested by the passing of a girl, clad all in white,
      attended by her nurse, through the Forum._

  (_To a companion._) Now, by the ghost of Ixion, behold
  Yon perfect vision of most perfect beauty.
  Enchanting grace! Exquisite featuring!
  Youth lightly shadowed by young womanhood!
  My passions, Oppius, are all awake.
  Aflame and spreading fast! Why, I would burn
  All Rome to own her, touch her, feel her near;
  I would receive the curses of the gods,
  Be hurled to lowest Hades, and endure
  The tortures set for Tantalus himself
  If I might call her mine. Her kiss would prove
  Sufficient food for me, her liquid eyes
  Would quench my thirst if I should look within
  And see the tears or draw the starry light
  Into my soul! O, Appius, ye are stricken!

  _Oppius._ Peace, peace, mine Appius, the maid is gone--
  Thy looks are wild, thy features are convulsed
  With passion.

  _1st Cit._ See, Hortensius, yon man?
  What ails him? Like a madman is his gaze,
  And horrid is his flaming countenance.

  _Oppius._ Come, brother, come, my colleague, let's away.

  _Appius._ Hands off, O, foolish man, for I am dead
  To protest. I have been by lightning stricken.

  _Oppius._         It is, indeed, too passionate to be
  The wound from Eros' feathered shaft.

  _Appius_ (_groaning_).         Ah! God!
  Where has she gone? I can not see her face
  Nor matchless form within the dreary crowd,
  Women I spy in plenty. What a mob
  Of uncouth shapes and homely featuring
  These females are! She was a Cynthia,
  And all beside her, hideous and bold
  Bacchantes. I'll a lictor straight despatch,
  To seize on her, for she belongs to me.

  _Oppius._ Nay, fool! Rash fool! Thou art not Jupiter
  In power, that thou darest thus to seize,
  In open daylight, objects of thy lust,
  When they are daughters of free citizens.
  Some shadow of excuse must herald such
  Bold actions, lest the rabble rise in arms,
  As in the days of fair Lucretia!
  Thou canst presume, and yet in thy presumption
  Play the sly part of virtue, ay, and justice,
  Nor seem a mad and bigoted abductor.
  I know the maid; a blameless child of one
  Virginius, a soldier and a pleb.
  Wait, wait, and on the morrow form thy plans,
  But for this moment let the matter rest,
  If thou art prudent. Come, let's on; the mob
  Follows thy gaze, noting thy steadfast look.

  _Appius._ Speed morrow then. For I am now no better
  Than madman; I, who hold the whole of Rome
  Under my thumb, am raving only for
  Nor heaven nor earth, nor power, nay, nor fame,
  But for the captivation of a maid--
  But for Virginia. Onward, let us on!
  I'll march into the grim, gray gates of eve
  And meet the morrow ere it hath arisen,
  Tear down the portals of the night and force
  My way into the chamber where the morn
  Dozes, a lovely slothful soul of hope,
  And seizing on her, madly I'll demand
  Virginia!      [_Exeunt._


SCENE II--A STREET IN ROME.

    _Enter Marius and Horatius, two patricians._

  _Marius._ He dared! he dared! he dared!

  _Horatius._                 And will dare more,
  Until Rome wakens from her lethargy
  And is herself again.

  _Marius._             Till then we wait,
  Enduring insult, tyranny, from him,
  The common enemy of nobleman
  And pleb.

  _Horatius._ Alas! once was he common friend
  To both--our lawgiver; what changed him so?

  _Marius._ A worm of pride that gnawed into his heart,
  A blast of fiery desert wind that dried,
  Withered and seared his noble disposition.
  To-day he is a monster, where he was
  But yesterday a leader and a god.

  _Horatius._ He angered the patricians by his show
  Of democratic policy; the plebs
  By barring intermarriage 'twixt the two
  Opposing classes!      [_Enter Virginius and Icilius._

  _Virginius._ Blessings, health to you!
  Good wishes of a Roman unto Romans.

  _Horatius_ (_bitterly_). Say rather, helpless, sullen, brooding curs!
  We are no more--methinks _thou_ art no more;
  Nor even thou, Icilius, our tribune.
  There are no free, courageous sons of Rome,
  But victims only, cowed beneath the lash
  Of the Decemvirs--curses on their heads!

  _Virginius._ Methinks I'm not the dog that thou hast said,
  For 'tis my part and wish to play the man.
  The name of Appius I do despise,
  And only bide my time to bury it
  Deep in the soil, along with him who bears
  Its weight. Although I will not fling myself
  Upon the altar of Unreason as
  A bootless sacrifice, yet am I still
  Nor dog, nor worm, but one who waits and prays,
  Nor prays alone, but puzzles out his plan
  Of action. No, nor plans alone, but strives;
  And striving, must achieve, unless the hand
  Of sudden Death come in to tear the web.
  Friends, we are hard pressed and we pant in pain,
  Yet tyrants, howsoever strong, are still
  Weaker than Justice and are shorter-lived
  Than Liberty, the queen whom Justice serves.
  Because our wrongs are heavy must we brood,
  And chafe, and curse our stars and Appius?
  What war was ever closed successfully
  With sullen warriors and men untrained,
  Unready or undone by foul Despair?

  _Icilius._ Thou hast inspired me and curbed my wrath,
  Which held in it no reason, all unbound,
  Ready to leap a lion on its prey.
  Ay, there's a time for all things. I shall wait,
  Knowing, Virginius, that thy words are true.
  Wisdom, the gods be thanked, hath never flowed
  Forth from thy lips in words of honeyed sounds,
  Nor yet in pompous phrases burdened down
  With ponderous eloquence, but bold and frank,
  Shining as bright and ringing forth as true
  As thy good sword that thou hast borne so well
  In camp, palestra, or in battle-field.

  _Virginius._ My words are bold, for I am full of grief
  At men's delinquency and heavy souls;
  Frank--ay; because 'tis late to talk in riddles
  Or metaphors, that veil the precious truth
  Within; shining with fervor, ringing true,
  Because the cause I do uphold is true
  As life and death is real.

  _Horatius._         Thine eloquence
  Is worthy of a better hearing than
  This little company. I would that thou
  Wouldst lead us into action, noble pleb.

  _Virginius._ My duties are at present with mine own--
  With her, my fair ewe-lamb; when she becomes
  The spouse of this our friend and our tribune,
  Virginius shall owe himself to none,
  But feel compelled the Commonwealth alone
  To serve. And here's my hand in oath that I
  Shall serve it well! The gods help Appius!

    [_Enter Sicinius, in civilian garments._

  _Marius._ Greetings, Sicinius, and health to thee!

  _Sic._ And Heaven's favor unto you, my friends.
  How now! All deep in sombre conference?

  _Icilius_ (_impetuously_). Sicinius! What curse hath come to Rome,
  That bends her proud and regal head beneath
  The yoke of shame? The collar of the serf
  Hangs heavy round her haughty neck. Ye gods!
  The mightly Romulus, methinks, must find
  The grave a cell that keeps him from his Rome;
  How must his mighty spirit chafe when he
  Receiveth tidings from the newly dead,
  Concerning this, his city, now so low
  Amid the dust of Wrong and Bigotry!
  Tell us, thou man of action, what bold move
  We needs must make. Oh! be our OEdipus!

  _Horatius._ Hist, noble tribune! Favor silence. These
  Are times of peril; cast thou Caution's die.

  _Icilius_ (_amazed_). What! knowest thou not this man, Sicinius?
  He who has bearded all the noble Ten,
  He whose brave words of indignation ring
  From hill to hill of Rome? Sicinius!

  _Horatius_ (_sullenly_). I have been absent from the town these twelve
  Long moons, nor know I all that thou dost know.

  _Icilius._ Why, man, look not so sour and so sad.

  _Virginius._ Peace, youths! Sicinius hath but little chance
  To speak his mind. I beg of thee that thou,
  Good friend, expound thy views as to these days
  Of tyranny, for Romans are at bay.

  _Sic._ If I should speak, then would I speak myself