The Complete Poetical Works of George MacDonald. George MacDonald

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      SCENE XXV.—The empty room, formerly Lilia's.

      Enter JULIAN.

      Julian. How am I here? Alas! I do not know. I should have been at sea.—Ah, now I know! I have come here to die.

      [Lies down on the floor.] Where's Lilia? I cannot find her. She is here, I know. But oh these endless passages and stairs, And dreadful shafts of darkness! Lilia! Lilia! wait for me, child; I'm coming fast, But something holds me. Let me go, devil! My Lilia, have faith; they cannot hurt you. You are God's child—they dare not touch you, wife. O pardon me, my beautiful, my own!

      [Sings.]

      Wind, wind, thou blowest many a drifting thing

       From sheltering cove, down to the unsheltered sea;

       Thou blowest to the sea ray blue sail's wing—

       Us to a new, love-lit futurity:

       Out to the ocean fleet and float—

       Blow, blow my little leaf-like boat.

      [While he sings, enter LORD SEAFORD, pale and haggard.]

      JULIAN descries him suddenly. What are you, man? O brother, bury me— There's money in my pocket—

      [Emptying the Jew's gold on the floor.]

      by my child.

      [Staring at him.]

      Oh! you are Death. Go, saddle the pale horse—

       I will not walk—I'll ride. What, skeleton!

       I cannot sit him! ha! ha! Hither, brute! Here, Lilia, do the lady's task, my child, And buckle on my spurs. I'll send him up With a gleam through the blue, snorting white foam-flakes. Ah me! I have not won my golden spurs, Nor is there any maid to bind them on:

      I will not ride the horse, I'll walk with thee.

       Come, Death, give me thine arm, good slave!—we'll go.

      Lord Seaford (stooping over him). I am Seaford, Count.

      Julian.

      Seaford! What Seaford?

      [Recollecting.]

      —Seaford!

      [Springing to his feet.]

      Where is my wife?

      [He falls into SEAFORD'S arms. He lays him down.]

      Lord S. Had I seen him, she had been safe for me.

      [Goes.]

      [JULIAN lies motionless. Insensibility passes into sleep. He wakes calm, in the sultry dusk of a summer evening.]

      Julian. Still, still alive! I thought that I was dead. I had a frightful dream. 'Tis gone, thank God!

      [He is quiet a little.]

      So then thou didst not take the child away

       That I might find my wife! Thy will be done.

       Thou wilt not let me go. This last desire

       I send away with grief, but willingly.

       I have prayed to thee, and thou hast heard my prayer:

       Take thou thine own way, only lead her home.

       Cleanse her, O Lord. I cannot know thy might;

       But thou art mighty, with a power unlike

       All, all that we know by the name of power,

       Transcending it as intellect transcends

       'The stone upon the ground—it may be more,

       For these are both created—thou creator,

       Lonely, supreme.

      Now it is almost over,

       My spirit's journey through this strange sad world;

       This part is done, whatever cometh next.

       Morning and evening have made out their day;

       My sun is going down in stormy dark,

       But I will face it fearless.

       The first act Is over of the drama.—Is it so?

       What means this dim dawn of half-memories?

      There's something I knew once and know not now!—

       A something different from all this earth!

       It matters little; I care not—only know

       That God will keep the living thing he made.

       How mighty must he be to have the right

       Of swaying this great power I feel I am—

       Moulding and forming it, as pleaseth him!

       O God, I come to thee! thou art my life;

       O God, thou art my home; I come to thee.

      Can this be death? Lo! I am lifted up

       Large-eyed into the night. Nothing I see

       But that which is, the living awful Truth— All forms of which are but the sparks flung out From the luminous ocean clothing round the sun, Himself all dark. Ah, I remember me: Christ said to Martha—"Whosoever liveth, And doth believe in me, shall never die"! I wait, I wait, wait wondering, till the door Of God's wide theatre be open flung To let me in. What marvels I shall see! The expectation fills me, like new life Dancing through all my veins.

      Once more I thank thee

       For all that thou hast made me—most of all,

       That thou didst make me wonder and seek thee.

       I thank thee for my wife: to thee I trust her;

       Forget her not, my God. If thou save her,

       I shall be able then to thank thee so

       As will content thee—with full-flowing song,

       The very bubbles on whose dancing waves

       Are daring thoughts flung faithful at thy feet.

      My heart sinks in me.—I grow faint. Oh! whence

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