# Ion (Talfourd)/Act V

ACT V.

### SCENE I.

Two SOLDIERS on guard.
1 Sol. A stirring season, comrade ! our new prince
Has leap'd as eagerly into his seat,
As he had languished an expectant heir
Weary of nature's kindness to old age.
He was esteem'd a modest stripling : strange
That he should, with such reckless hurry, seize
The gaudy shows of power !
2 Sol. 'Tis honest nature;
The royal instinct was but smouldering in him,
And now it blazes forth. I pray the gods
He may not give us cause to mourn his sire.
1 Sol. No more : he comes.
[Enter ION, c.]
Ion. Why do ye loiter here?
Are all the statues deck'd with festal wreaths
As I commanded!
1 Sol. We have been on guard
Here, by Agenor's order, since the nightfall.
Ion. On guard ! Well, hasten now, and see it done.
I need no guards. [Exeunt Soldier.]
The awful hour draws near
I am composed to meet it. Phocion comes:
He will unman me ; yet he must not go,
Thinking his presence painful.
[Enter PHOCION, L.]
Friend, good morrow!
Thou play'st the courtier early.
Pho. Canst thou speak
In that old tone of common cheerfulness,
That blithely promises delightful years,
And hold thy mournful purpose?
Ion. I have drawn
From the selectest fountain of repose
A blessed calm :-- when I lay down to rest,
I fear'd lest bright remembrances of childhood
Should with untimely visitation mock me;
But deep and dreamless have my slumbers been.
If sight of thee renews the thoughts of life
Too busily -- I prize the love that wakes them.
Pho. Oh ! cherish them, and let them plead with thee
To grant my prayer, that thou wouldst live for Argos,
Not die for her; thy gracious life shall win,
More than thy death, the favour of the gods,
And charm the marble aspect of grim Fate
Into a blessed change: I, who am vow'd,
And who so late was arm'd Fate's minister,
Implore thee!
Ion. Speak to me no more of life!
There is a dearer name I would recall
Thou understand'st me--
[Enter AGENOR, L.]
Agen. Thou hast forgot to name
Who shall be bidden to this evening's feast.
Ion. The feast! most true; I had forgotten it.
Bid whom thou wilt ; but let there be large store,
If our sad walls contain it, for the wretched
Whom hunger palsies. It may be few else
Will taste it with a relish.
[ION resumes his address to PHOCION, and continues it, bro- ken by the interruptions which follow,] I would speak
A word of her who yester-morning rose
To her light duties with as blithe a heart
As ever yet its equal beating veil'd
In moveless alabaster; plighted now.
In liberal hour, to one whose destiny
Shall freeze the sources of enjoyment in it,
And make it heavy with the life-long pang
A widow'd spirit bears !
[Enter CLEON, L.]
Cleon. The heralds wait
To learn the hour at which the solemn games
Shall be proclaim'd,
Ion. The games ! --yes, I remember
That sorrow's darkest pageantries give place
To youth's robustest pastimes --Death and Life
Embracing :-- at the hour of noon.
Cleon. The wrestlers
Pray thee to crown the victor.
Ion. If I live,
Their wish shall govern me.
[Exit CLEON, L.]
Could I recall
One hour, and bid thy sister think of me
With gentle sorrow., as a playmate lost,
I should escape the guilt of having stopp'd
The pulse of hope in the most innocent soul
That ever passion ruffled. Do not talk
Of me as I shall seem to thy kind thoughts,
But harshly as thou canst ; and if thou steal
From thy rich store of popular eloquence
Some bitter charge against the faith of kings,
'Twill be an honest treason.
[Enter CASSANDER, R.]
Cass. Pardon me,
If I entreat thee to permit a few
Of thy once cherished friends to bid thee joy
Of that which swells their pride.
Ion. They'll madden me.--
Dost thou not see me circled round with care?
Urge me no more.
[As CASSANDER is going, ION leaves PHOCION, and comes to him]
Come back, Cassander ! see
How greatness frets the temper. Keep this ring--
It may remind thee of the pleasant hours
That we have spent together, ere our fortunes
Grew separate ; and with thy gracious speech
Excuse me to our friends.
[Exit CASSANDER, R
Pho. 'Tis time we seek
The temple.
Ion. Phocion ! must I to the temple?
Pho. There sacrificial rites must be performed
Before thou art enthroned.
Ion. Then I must gaze
On things which will arouse the struggling thoughts
I had subdued perchance may meet with her
Whose name I dare not utter. I am ready.

### SCENE II.

CLEMANTHE and, ABRA, discovered.
Abra. Be comforted, dear lady ; he must come
To sacrifice.
Clem. Recall that churlish word,
That subborn " must" that bounds my living hopes,
As with an iron circle. He must come !
How piteous is affection's state, that cleaves
To such a wretched prop ! I had flown to him
Long before this, but that I fear'd my presence
Might prove a burthen, and he sends no word,
No token that he thinks of me? Art sure
That he must come? The hope has torture in it;
Yet it is all my bankrupt heart hath left
To feed upon.
Abra. I see him now with Phocion
Pass through the inner court.
Clem. He will not come
This way, then, to the place for sacrifice.
I can endure no more; speed to him, Abra;
And bid him, if he holds Clemanthe's life
Worthy a minute's loss, to seek me here.
Abra. Dear lady !
Clem. Do not answer me, but run,
Or I shall give yon crowd of sycophants
To gaze upon my sorrow.
It is hard ; Yet I must strive to bear it, and find solace
In that high fortune which has made him strange.
He bends this way but slowly mournfully.
O, he is ill ; how has my slander wronged him !
[Enter ION, L.]
Ion. What wouldst thou with me, lady?
Clem. Is it so?
Nothing, my lord, save to implore thy pardon,
That the departing gleams of a bright dream,
From which I scarce had waken'd, made me bold
To crave a word with thee; but all are fled
And I have naught to seek.
Ion. A goodly dream;
But thou art right to think it was no more, And study to forget it.
Clem. To forget it?
Indeed, my lord, I cannot wish to lose
What, being past, is all my future hath,
All I shall live for: do not grudge me this,
The brief space I shall need it.
Ion. Speak not, fair one,
In tone so mournful, for it makes me feel
Too sensibly the hapless wretch I am,
That troubled the deep quiet of thy soul
In that pure fountain which reflected heaven,
For a brief taste of rapture,
Clem. Dost thou yet
Esteem it rapture, then? My foolish heart,
Be still ! Yet wherefore should a crown divide us?
Oh, my dear Ion ! let me call thee so
This "once at least it could not in my thoughts
Increase the distance that there was between us,
When, rich in spirit, thou to strangers' eyes
Seem'd a poor foundling.
Ion. It must separate us!
Think it no harmless bauble, but a curse
Will freeze the current in the veins of youth,
And from familiar touch of genial hand,
From household pleasures, from sweet daily tasks,
From airy thought, free wanderer of the heaven,
For ever banish me!
Clem. Thou dost accuse
Thy state too hardly. It may give some room,
Some little space, amid its radiant folds,
For love to make its nest in!
Ion. Not for me:
My pomp must be most lonesome, far removed
From that sweet fellowship of human kind
The slave rejoices in; my solemn robes
Shall wrap me as a panoply of ice,
And the attendants who may throng around me
Shall want the flatteries which may basely warm
The sceptral thing they circle. Dark and cold
Stretches the path, which, when I wear the crown,
I needs must enter ; the great gods forbid
That thou should'st follow in it!
Clem. Oh, unkind !
And shall we never see each other?
Ion. (after a pause.) Yes!
I have asked that dreadful question of the hills
That look eternal; of the flowing streams
That lucid flow for ever; of the stars,
Amid whose fields of azure my raised spirit
Hath trod in glory: all were dumb; but now,
While I thus gaze upon thy living face,
I feel the love that kindles through its beauty,
Can never wholly perish; we shall meet
Again, Clemanthe!
Clem. Bless thee for that name;
Call me that name again! thy words sound strangely
Yet they breathe kindness. Shall we meet indeed?
Think not I would intrude upon thy cares,
Thy councils, or thy pomps; to sit at distance,
To wave, with the nice labour which preserves
The rebel pulses even, from gay threads
Faint records of thy deeds, and sometimes catch
The falling music of a gracious word,
Or the stray sunshine of a smile, will be
Comfort enough; do not deny me this;
Or, if stern fate compel thee to deny,
Kill me at once!
Ion. No; thou must live, my fair one;
There are a thousand joyous things in life,
Which pass unheeded in a life of joy
As thine hath been, till breezy sorrow comes
To ruffle it; and daily duties paid
Hardly at first, at length will bring repose
To the sad mind that studies to perform them.
Thou dost not mark me.
Clem. Oh, I do! I do!
Ion. If for thy brother's and thy father's sake
Thou art content to live, the healer Time
Will reconcile thee to the lovely things
Of this delightful world, and if another,
A happier -- no, I cannot bid thee love
Another ! I did think I could have said it,
But 'tis in vain.
Clem. Thou art mine own, then, still?
Ion. I am thine own ! thus let me clasp thee; nearer!
Oh, joy too thrilling and too short !
[Enter AGENOR, R.]
Agen. My lord,
The sacrificial rites await thy presence.
Ion. I come. One more embrace the last, the last
In this world ! Now farewell !
Clem. The last embrace !
Then he has cast me off! No, 'tis not so;
Some mournful secret of his fate divides us:
I'll struggle to bear that, and snatch a comfort
From seeing him uplifted. I will look
Upon him on his throne; Minerva's shrine
Will shelter me from vulgar gaze: I'll hasten,
And feast my sad eyes with his greatness there!
[Exit, R. ]

### SCENE III.

The great Square of the city, on the L A throne of state prepared, on the R. an altar, the statues decorated with garlands.
Enter CTESIPHON and CASSANDER, R. u. E.
Ctes. Vex me no more, by telling me, Cassander,
Of his fair speech; I prize it at its worth:
Thou'lt see how he will act when seated firm
Upon the throne the craven tyrant fill'd,
Whose blood he boasts, unless some honest arm
Should shed it first.
Cas. Hast thou forgot the time
When thou thyself wert eager to foretell
His manhood's glory from his childish virtues
Let me not think thee one of those fond prophets,
Who are well pleased still to foretell success,
So it remain their dream.
Ctes. Thou dost forget
What has chill'd fancy and delight within me
[Music at a distance]
Hark! servile trumpets speak his coming watch,
How power will change him.
[They stand aside.]
The Procession, Enter U. E. R. MEDON, AGENOR, PHO- CION, TIMOCLES, CLEON, Sages and People ION last in royal robes. He advances amidst shouts.
Ion. I thank you for your greeting Shout no more,
But in deep silence raise your hearts to Heaven,
That it may strengthen one so young and frail
As I am, for the business of this hour.
Must I sit here?
Medon. Permit thy earliest friend,
Who has so often propp'd thy tottering step
To lead thee to thy throne, and thus fulfill
His fondest vision.
Ion. Thou art still most kind
Medon. Nay, do not think of me my son! my son!
What ails thee ? When thou should'st reflect the joy
Of Argos, the strange paleness of the grave
Marbles thy face.
Ion. Am I indeed so pale?
It is a solemn office I assume;
Yet thus, with Phoebus' blessing, I embrace it
[Sits on the throne.
Stand forth, Agenor!
Agen. I await thy will.
Ion. To thee I look as to the wisest friend
Of this afflicted people thou must leave
Awhile the quiet which thy life hath earn'd,
To rule our councils ; fill the seats of justice
With good men not so absolute in goodness,
As to forget what human frailty is;
And order my sad country.
Agen. Pardon me --
Ion. Nay, I will promise 'tis my last request:
Thou never couldst deny me what I sought
In boyish wantonness, and shalt not grudge
Thy wisdom to me, till our state revive
From its long anguish; it will not be long
If Heaven approve me here. Thou hast all power
Whether I live or die.
Agen. Die! I am old --
Ion. Death is not jealous of thy mild decay,
Which gently wins thee his; exulting Youth
Provokes the ghastly monarch's sudden stride,
And makes his horrid fingers quick to clasp
His shivering prey at noontide. Let me see
The captain of the guard.
Cry. I kneel to crave
Humbly the favour which thy sire bestow'd
On one who loved him well.
Ion. I cannot thank thee,
That wakest the memory of my father's weakness
But I will not forget that thou hast shared
The light enjoyments of a noble spirit,
And learned the need of luxury. I grant
For thee and thy brave comrades, ample share
Of such rich treasures as my stores contain,
To grace thy passage to some distant land,
Where, if an honest cause engage thy sword,
May glorious laurels wreath it! In our realm,
We shall not need it longer.
Cry. Dost intend
To banish the firm troops before whose valour
Barbarian millions shrink app'all'd, and leave
Our city naked to the first assault
Of reckless foes'?
Ion. No, Crythes! in ourselves,
In our own honest hearts and chainless hands
Will be our safeguard ; while we seek no use
Of arms we would not have our children blend
With their first innocent wishes; while the love
Of Argos and of justice shall be one
To their young reason ; while their sinews grow
Firm 'midst the gladness of heroic sports,
We shall not ask, to guard our country's peace,
One selfish passion, or one venal sword.
I would not grieve thee; but thy valiant troop
For I esteem them valiant -- must no more,
With luxury which suits a desperate camp,
Infect us. See that they embark, Agenor,
Ere night.
Cry. My lord --
Ion. No more -- my word hath pass'd.
Medon, -- there is no office I can add
To those thou hast grown old in; thou wilt guard
The shrine of Phoebus, and within thy home
Thy too delightful home befriend the stranger
As thou didst me; there sometimes waste a thought
On thy spoil'd inmate!
Medon. Think of thee, my lord?
Long shall we triumph in thy glorious reign --
Ion. Prithee no more. Argives! I have a boon
To crave of you; whene'er I shall rejoin
In death the father from whose heart in life
Stern fate divided me, think gently of him !
For ye, who saw him in his full-blown pride,
Knew little of affections crush'd within,
And wrongs which frenzied him ; yet never more
Let the great interests of the state depend
Upon the thousand chances that may sway
A piece of human frailty! Swear to me
That ye will seek hereafter in yourselves
The means of sovereign rule: our narrow space,
So happy in its confines, so compact,
Needs not the magic of a single name
Which wider regions may require to draw
Their interests into one; but, circled thus,
Like a bless'd family by simple laws,
May tenderly be governed; all degrees
Moulded together as a single form
Of nymph-like loveliness, which finest chords
Of sympathy pervading shall suffuse
In times of quiet with one bloom, and fill
With one resistless impulse, if the hosts
Of foreign power should threaten. Swear to me
That ye will do this !
Medon. Wherefore ask this now?
Thou shalt live long! The paleness of thy face,
Which late appalled me, is grown radiant now,
And thine eyes kindle with the prophecy
Of lustrous years.
Ion. The gods approve me, then!
Yet will I use the function of a king,
And claim obedience. Promise, if I leave
No issue, that the sovereign power shall live
In the affections of the general heart,
And in the wisdom of the best.
Medon and others (kneeling). We swear it!
Ion. Hear and record the oath, immortal powers!
Now give me leave a moment to approach
That altar, unattended.
Gracious gods !
In whose mild service my glad youth was spent,
Look on me now ; and if there is a Power,
As at this solemn time I feel there is,
Beyond ye, that hath breathed through all your shapes
The spirit of the beautiful that lives
In earth and heaven : to ye I offer up
This conscious being, full of life and love,
For my dear country's welfare. Let this blow
End all her sorrows !
Ctesiphon, thou art
Avenged, and wilt forgive me.
Ctes. Thou hast pluck'd
The poor disguise of hatred from my soul,
And made me feel how shallow is the wish
Of vengeance. Could I die to save thee !
[CLEMANTHE rushes forward.]
Clem. Hold!
Let me support him stand away ! indeed
I have best right, although ye know it not,
To cling to him in death.
Ion. This is a joy
I did not hope for -- this is sweet indeed!
Bend thine eyes on me!
Clem. And for this it was
Thou wouldst have weaned me from thee ? Couldst thou think
I would be so divorced ?
Ion. Thou art right, Clemanthe:
It was a shallow and an idle thought
'Tis past! No show of coldness frets us now,
No vain disguise, my love. Yet thou wilt think
On that, which, when I feign'd, I truly said
Wilt thou not, sweet one?
Clem. I will treasure all.
[Enter IRUS, L.]
Irus. I bring you glorious tidings -- Ha! no joy
Can enter here.
Ion. Yes -- is it as I hope?
Irus. The pestilence abates.
Ion (springs on his feet). Do ye not hear? Why shout ye not? ye are strong -- think not of me.
Hearken! the curse my ancestry had spread
O'er Argos, is dispelled -- Agenor, give
This gentle youth his freedom, who hath brought
Sweet tidings that I shall not die in vain!
And Medon! cherish him as thou hast one
Who, dying, blesses thee; my own Clemanthe!
Let this console thee also -- Argos lives!
The offering is accepted -- all is well!
The Curtain Falls.