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Laa diagrammaa suivants illuatrant la mAthoda. ..i^^^-imF^^^s^t^^ima wp^i : i^iiamim^.:-\^\¥i^ • '•/ismsmK " iT niri-nm-UMi— ni"iif'niiTiWTTTi-^iini ^^f^ MICROCOPY RESOIUTWN TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1^ 1^ m i^ m tmm m 1.8 ^ APPLIED IfVHGE '653 East Wain Street Rocliester, Ne« York 14609 USA (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone (716) 288 - 5989 - Fa. DAUGHTERS OF DAWN >^.: DAUGHTERS OF DAWN A LYRICAL PAGEANT OR SERIES OF HISTORIC SCENES FOR PRESENTATION mm MUSIC AND DANCING BY BLISS CARMAN AND MARY PERRY KING WITH FIFTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS ^'What cannot be said can be sung, IVhat cannot be sung can be danced" NEWYORK MITCHELL KENNERLEY 1913 f\ /: X' ^• • ^f^ r r ' t fi^iJS Copyright 11)13 by Mitchell KennerUy The dramatic rights for acting and reading of DaughUrs of Dawn, to- gether with its music, stage directions and costur.e specif cations for acting and for reading, illustrated by tableaux vivants, may be had of the authors. There are also lantern-slide illustra- tions that may be used together with music to accompany readings from the Pageant. Prtss of y. J. Little & Ives Cor any East Twenty-fourth Utree. New Tork TO UF.NRIF.TTy1 HO^Er ff'nu IIOMMCK AND .IfFECTtON IN HAk'Pr APl'RFCl,l'/ON OF HER : RyiCB TO THE CAUSE OF ART INTRODUCTION IN rereading one of Edward Carpenter's wise books the other day I came upon the following suggestive passages, which express very well the thought underlying the Daughters of Dawn: "Far back out of the brows of Greek goddess, and Sibyl, and Norse and Ger- man seeress and prophetess, over all this petty civilization look the grand untamed eyes of a primal woman the equal and the mate of man; and in sad plight should we be if we might not already, lighting up the horizon from East and West and South and North, discern the answering looks of those newcomers who, as the pe- riod of women's enslavement is passing away, send glances of recognition across the ages to their elder sisters." 'The Greek goddesses look down and across the ages to the very outposts beyond civilization; and already from America, Australasia, Africa, Norway, VI INTRODUCTION Russia, as even in our midst from those who have crossed the border-line of all class and caste, glance forth the features of a grander type — fearless and untamed — the primal merging into the future Woman; who * * * will help us to undo the bonds of death which encircle the present society, and open the doors to a new and a wider life." Daughters of Dawn, literally written in collaboration, was originally planned by Mrs. King to serve as a series of studies in her new educational movement, in which the three rhythmic arts, poetry, music, and dancing, or interpretive motion, are combined for artistic and cultural purposes. Even if I had origi- nated such a work and been rash enough to begin it alone, I could not unaided have given it anything like its present effectiveness, verac- ity, and conciseness, nor many of the beauties of thought and expression which I am glad to think it possesses. As there appeared to be no more appropriate name for dances or small motion dramas of this sort, in which the in- terpretation of the spoken verse is furthered INTRODUCTION Vll simultaneously by adapted music and rhythmic motion which may or may not include dancing, we have been calling them Rhythmics. Of the great company of illustrious women of the ages, many others might also have been chosen for such a work. These Daughters of Dawn were selected as typical chiefly of the liberal and beneficent power of woman's na- ture in her leadership and ascendancy in the life of the spirit and the destiny of the world. Selection was made of episodes lyrical rather than dramatic in feeling and significance, as most readily lending themselves to lyric treat- ment in verse, music, and motion. Our best thanks are due to friends for gen- erous aid in creating the various roles— to Miss Irmgard von Rottenthal for her poetic study of Eve, to Miss Hedwig Reicher for her masterly studies of Deborah and Balkis, to Miss Mirzah Cheslir for her studies of Sappho and a truly wonderful Mary, to Miss Ray Cohen for her exquisite interpretation of Izeyl, to Mrs. Bayard Redficid for her fine concep- tion of Zenobia, to Miss Dorothy Dean for her most adequate Jeanne d'Arc, and to Miss vm INTRODUCTION Gertrude Lynch for her very gracious ren- dering of Vittoria Colonna. Our grateful ac- knowledgments belong also to Mr. B. J. F Ik, who brought the interest of an old friend and the painstaking skill of an artist to the making of the photographic studies from which the il- lustrations are taken. The writing of the various scenes, prologues, and choruses, and the selection and arrange- ment of the costumes, involved painstaking to insure their historic accuracy and consistency, so far as might be. In the different meters used in the dialogues an attempt has been made to secure in each case a verse form expression- ally appropriate to the scene. These are but working considerations, but they may prove of service to students who may wish to use the Pageant at any time. B. C. New Canaan, Connecticut, October, 19 1 2. OPENING PROLOGUE AND CHORTTS PERSONS IN THE PROLOGUES AND CHORUSES I'iME A Poet ^ nAUGIITKRS OF DAW N DAUGHTERS OF DAWN yis the curtain rises on a front scene Time ^^>d A Poet enter from the left. Time ,,alks a lUlle tn advance of his companion and mov- tng toivard the centre of the stage delivers the prologue. OpexVing Prologue In the crystal sphere of time that swings through space All loveliness survives. Each ardent grace, Joyance, and noble passion, leaves its trace Imperishable there. And he who gazes In that magic glass May see the pageant of the ages pass, V.vid and glad ^.d glorious as It was, In Its great hours of flare. In scarlet tatters and in webs of gold, Heroic ecstasies and dramas old, Their core of wisdom and high glamour hold, lo bid men choose and dare. "I -^i'S'-r^'i DAUGHTERS OF DAWN frith the conclusion of his speech, Time passes on across the stage to exit at the right. Music at once takes up the theme of the pro- logue and leads ittto the theme of the Ij ic chorus. As it ceases, the chorus follows, spoken by the Poet, who does not move far from his place of entrance. OpiiNiNG Chorus Who are these who pass by With victorious mien, Deathless light in the eye, Fadeless glory and sheen In their mystical beauty and bearing;, their power to bless or to ban? These are they who aspired And were wise in their day, Daring all they desired Through din and dismay. To foster the hope and the vision, — their share in the infinite plan. They dreamed and endured To bring gladness to birth, wd^m'^m^. Mjatniaui £r«^^>miir DAUviHTLKS OF DAWN That joy might be lured From the sorrow of earth, For the making of ever new Edens, to perfect what creation began. They cherished the spark; They protected the flame From the winds and the dark; To them the word came; Their bodies were altars of love, and their faith was the rapture of man. Whether beauty and truth Were the stars of their power, Or the ardor of youth, Or the pride of the hour, They broidered the banners they followed, while the sands of the hour-glass ran. So from age unto age Their beauty shall glow, To brighten the page Of earth's warfare and woe. As the stars in the arches of heaven illumine the darkness they span. 5«WA.''rs»i»-EV DAUGHTERS OF D.\\V>f .// the conclusion of this chorus the Wn.v retires, and music follows with a glorifica- tion of I'e general thenvr of the Pageant. The same procedure is followed at the be- ginning of the various scenes, Timk speaking the prologues, and the Poet reciting .he lyric choruses,— Kith only this difference, that at the close of each chorus the curtain rises immedi- ately, disclosing a realization of the Poet's vi- sion, while the speaker makes his exit with eyes on the scene or remains half-concealed near his place of entrance, as an onlooker. '■■:-i. ^,^^^m:mmy^T:i m I EVE \'\ PERSONS IN THE SCENE Eve Adam '^^^ m mm Z-'^d -*3I EVE DAUGHTERS OF DAV/NT EVE Prologue Lone In the strangeness of a dim new world Untutored, unbcfriendcd, alien, man Moved to his destiny of perilous power Between his ecstasies of hope and fear. And wonder was upon him, and desire. His strength was spent on rock and tree in vain ; His running reached no goal but loneliness; Silent derision waited on his toil; And ever the world-sorrow bore him down, His great heart beaten by futility. Then on a morning after monstrous storm, A spirit whispered through the great dumb blue, And there emerged among the gentle hills, Loving, humane, mysterious, the form Of beauty made in h'keness of his dream. Music lO DAUGHTERS OF DAWN Chorus Who Is this ardor-paled O'er her blood's coral stain, v^eiled as mountains are veiled In a mist of blue rain? She is fair as the great winter moonlight, and frail as Aprilian flowers. In her eyes there are gleams Of the sun and the sea. And unfathomed dreams Of the ages to be ; Her beauty and wind-shod exulting take little account of the hours. She moves like the drifts Of fog on the tide, Or the faint smoke that lifts From the purple 1 Iside; And men at her beauty shall wonder, while wonder and beauty abide. She fears not the portal Of life nor of death; DAUGHTERS OF DAWN II 3 She is tender and mortal And subtle as breath; And her voice is the call of the ages that quick- ens this substance of ours. Her love is a thing Without hate or regret, Yet in twiHo-Jus of spring Will her eyelids be wet With st ige immemorial sorrow. She is Eve of tne mystical powers. A wooded glade in Paradise. A running stream through a meadow. The sea line in the distance. Birds, butterflies, flowers, and crea- tures. Morning sunlight. Eve appears among the trees, and accompanies her soliloquy with primitive expressive motion. At its close Adam ts seen through the trees, and speaks. Eve Dear life I Earth and sun and sea-line! Shadowy .oods and shining river! Flowers and meadows fresh with morning, Calhng birds that sway and flutter. Soaring glad and free! ^Ai 12 DAUGHTERS OF DAWN • What Is all this wonder round me, VV^ih its ravishing enchantment? The leaves whisper; the grey water Murmurs to the blue day; all things Promise more and more. And this mist of gold about me? Running and seeing her reflection in the stream I am swift . . . and light ... and comely. Like the birds, T call. Come, wander Like the creatures I What am I, and What are these to me? Lovely sun, shine warm upon me I Unseen wind, come and caress me ! Good earth, kiss my feet and take me On long journeys, day and night-time, Gladly everywhere. Nothing answers to my calling! Nothing solaces my longing! Why are all things unresponding? Why is all my being lonely? Is this Paradise? -3 S Through the shadows there's a shadow Coming. Through the trees I sec him L.ke rre . . . stronger! Ah, his presence ' Makes me gladder, gladder, gladder What am I to thee ? Adam Have I not imaged thy face Out of the sunrise and dreams? i ave I not sought thy trace, Through the spring woods and streams? The print in the vanishing dew, The call that died on the air, Lured me ever anew. But never thyself was there. I stretched forth hands to the sun, I breathed my prayer through thl rain I called to the clouds that run; They answered me not again. ' I have heard at the world's far edge The great winds boom and moan; I have harked to the whispering sedge- But they spoke in a tongue unknown. ' And ever the throbbing ache Beat in my throat and side,— I H 14 DAUGHTERS OF DAWN The hunger I could not slake, The craving that would not bide; And ever the gleaming choice Drew me forth on the trail, Where never a kindred voice Answered my desolate hail. Thy glistening bosom swells In the light of thy wondrous hair, Like a sunlit hilltop that tells The watcher day is there. The croon of thy voice like the wind, The sway of thy body like fire. The glory of m.in shall bind To the soul of thy desire. Here let the sun stand still. The wandering stream be stayed, The shadow rest on the hill. The wind play low in the glade I For I have found Paradise, And dread has lost its power. Here let the great moon rise On an enchanted hour! Curtain and Music ll II DEBORAH Tivelfth Century B. C. PERSONS IN THE SCENE Deborah Barak Captains and Chief Men of Israel 'r 'I: I I "AND GOD SAID, M HAVF. SEEN THE OPPRESSION'" f ^ s nAirfiMTKRs OF nwvy DEBORAH Pro LOG UK The ages pass, and with enormous wars Sorrows and triumphs and enduring toil, The earth-child Man puts off his savagery, And w.th the growing wisdom of the earth Learns law and artistry and paths to power. He builds in Egypt mammoth pyramids; in Bnbylon his gilded temples rise- T.ll strength and beauty fill his 'heart with pride. Then eomes a nomad people with their tents Dreamers and wanderers with flocks and herds. Captive, oppressed, arrogant and unsubdued, Forever cherishing their racial dream Out of the desert, seeking pasturage, To the rich valleys of the West they come,- The tnbes of Israel to their promised land. Music i8 DAirniiTF.Rs or pawn Chorus What prophetess stands, With God's fire in her eyes A d His love in her hands, As she signals and cries The word that shall summon her people to turn back a tyrannous might? In beauty austere. With her hood half withdrawn, She is straight as a spear, Or a shaft of the dawn, When it flushes the cedars of Kedron, and floods the dark valleys with light. Her voice has the spell Of the wind and the rain. She sways with the swell Of the ripe-breasted grain, When summer is red in the valleys and his fervors are fierce on the plain. To the South and the North, Fleet runners light-shod -1 I •a f At her bidding wcnf f(,rth With the war-cry of God That should kindle the hearts of the tribes as a watch./,rc kindles the night. Let princes give heed And their kingdoms make way, When a woman at need Goes down to the fray ' For Deborah rousing a nation, the God of her fathers will fight. Outside the tent of Doorah in Mount hphram betueen Ramah and Bethel. A r hii/c ^ ^ - ^''''^'■'^ f^'tts aud distant h^ls are seen. ^^^^^M^ stands under a paint :;y;; --f^l^r door ;hef ore her, ehjnl jrom Kedesh-Naphtali in the North. Deborah O captains and chiefs of Zebulon, Andrulersof Naphtali, hear! And Barak son of Abinoam, Thou warrior-leader, draw near f m^^^msm^m!m^^[Mm:^7^rmmmmm' 1"*,,^ ■-♦% 20 DAUGHTERS OF DAWN i' What the Lord God of Israel speaketh By the palm tree in Ramah this day, By the mouth of Deborah His servant, Ye shall hearken unto and obey. For the voice of the Lord in the morning, Before the first sun took the dew From the valleys and ridges of Hermon, — While the peaks of the East were still blue, — Came to me, as I stood in the tent-door Thinking on Israel's wrong. And God said, "I have seen the oppression, But behold, it shall not be for long. "Send thou to Kedesh for Barak, And bid him unsheath the sword Against the outrage of Jabin, And I will prosper my word." Who halted the sun over Gibeon, The moon above Ajalon's plain? Who strengthened the ox-goad of Shamgar, By whom the six hundred were slain? So shall ye prevail against evil. Their chariots of iron shall flee. LJ.\L' .'*,. <M'- *-'*. •IM. mm^ M 'i^^'X ^*^' LiT' •• ' '••" * ','- ■■^y-. i^i t^i [■rtJ i''' M'\-Mim^^ DEBORAH I 1 --w-'l^A?: -■■:. .JrittiShr;"^'? 'Ci^ f»l s •■J I ^UGHTERS OF DAWm The floods shall brea. .hen. in pieces And roll them into the sea The Wneyards and fields of these Gentiles f-^^^^^-^M unto your Hn^,, ^'7,^'^,^^^" '" ^h-> courses shall aid you And dehver then, into your hands. ' Go, get you up to the mountains, ^,7;" .!f °"^^"^ ^«"ow your feet. And Iwdl make ready the eaptive, For the day is at hand. Be fleet There is a st^r in the crowd. ^ «arak, who makest the tor-^^-s Jn the temple at Shiloh to s!v Wilt thou not carry the fire To free thy people and mine? ^;r^t°^^-^f- judgment and council And prophesied truly, in vain? Are my words but as wind of ff,« a Mv t^WrU . ^^^ desert, My talk but as running of rain? Is t^ere none to accomplish my vision? Is there ncne to believe what I see > Am la babbler of Baal? O Barak, what am I to thee? 21 r imm:^ 22 DAUGHTERS OF DAWN Barak O Dehoran, for judgment The tribes come up to thee, The tents all know thy wisdom From Jordan to the sea. In the hills thy name is spoken, By the rivers it is heard. The captains seek thy counsel, The wayward heed thy word. II And when I set the torches Tt light the Holy Place, They pale as I remember The glory of thy face. But three days since at sunrise Did thy messenger draw nigh Breathless before the doorway, To seek me. Here am I. In the light of this thy counsel, What shall thy servant do, But carry the dread summons To raise the tribes anew? As thy soul lives, among them The word of God shall pass, As fire amo,.g the stubble. As wind among the grass, Onlyif thougo wlthmel Else here I will abide. I have nor hope nor portion That is not by thy side. Mine is the strength to conquer, And mme the skill of hand. But not the inward knowledge To see and understand. Then take thy staff and mantle, Make fast thy sandal-thong, For thou Shalt teach me wisdom. And I will make thee strong Dhborah makes a sign of assent. ^ peerless among women, There is no other way Since God in the beginning Breathed spirit into clay. Here a religious dance begins. The multU "AKAK for final exit. --^-K-'-\ ^&>i^. 24 DAUGHTERS OF DAWN So go we up before Him To the hills, ten thousand strong And I will lead the fighting, And thou shalt lift the song. The ages shall remember, When we are plunged in night, How Deborah and Barak Did battle for the Light. Curtain and Music r:y: ^^j$^ J III BALKIS Tenth Century B. C. i: y^.^1^-.. PERSONS IN Tlin SCENE Balkis, Queen of Sheba Solomon, King of Israel Musicians and Attendants if 26 It*: ii!C*. Ji. 9 1 <i 1*^ 'vr?^ \i r'" B A L K I S .■:>J- BALKIS I'kOUlUUR I^Bypf, Assyria, Chal.I.T,, pas, Across^ehc ,v„Hd's ..cae sta«e fro. Jark ,„ Amid the stumbling outcries of the nonr ^n<^.^".hesp,em,i.p„.„„f,,;,X",,„^^^ While Israel, eleavin, ;o hor lofty faith none pure God of j„,ei„ and o'nghe ll 7-^J ■■..- .Iriven „„, ,,,«en an.f hr'uised Under the harrow of the conqueror's ha" Through centuries of carnage, lus, and X'o.. Till from that turmoil, as from evil dreams In Judah rose a king, humanely wise Abov-ea.m,„. And Rulers of , he Dusk Up :"r ■" T"""' ''-™S ^' '"e Tight Up to Jerusalem in wonder came. 28 DAUr.llTKRS OF PAWN Chorus In crimson and gold By the ivory throne, Who is she who makes hold, With a pride all her own, To prove with hard questions the wisdom that fame has made first in the land? As the twelve lions gaze And the thurifers swing, She stands in amaze Before the great king. And her strength is as water, beholding his splendor and knowledge expand. Her walk has the sway Of a sea in the wind, — The strong supple play Of a panther of Ind, — The magic of might is about her; her sorcery who shall withstand! By the long camel trains Bearing gifts above price. i J^Atrr.MTKRS OF PAWM i 20 All the wealth of the plains, Sliver, alKum and spice And purple and gold without n,easure, and peacocks, and pearls by the strand,- By her garments all hright, By her gems from Kanaugfi, Her luxurious height. And her swarthy low hrow. Jt 's Balkis, dark Queen of Sheba. ring .1 ,s Solomon's hand. By the "c- 1'c Q,ur., of SM..-S „,.,skia,.s aj„,. .Js BM,s n,u-n fro,,, ,„e paUcv, after her leaving her alone. -^' Balkis King I, Balkis. Quec„ „f Sheba, came eo greet thee from afar,— ^ Feel thy sway and know ,hy wisdom and thy splendor as they are. 30 DAUGHTERS OF DAWN All the unmatched wealth and glory of thy House I would behold; And I brought thee royal treasury gems and frankincense and gold. But an overpowering grandeur and a strange unearthly lore That surround thee, have undone me with a spell unknown before. Whence are they? And how should any mor- tal being so outshine Pomp and pride and power of armies— all earth's riches — his or mine? Where Is all my strong assurance which the desert knew in fear? What befell my proven knowledge keen as a dividing spear? Am I a fond girl before him, hand to tremble, cheek to pale, That his speech should shake my heartstrings like a palm grove in a gale? Great Earth, give mc back my courage ! Desert wind and sun, renew The wild strength of heart that made me as unquestioning as you! Kl ^^mms^^a^^^' 'h^iii . . *-; J^'l,"^ ■<T^- «.:«■.■>. . L I > -ii. I f ^1 ■^■ f, f. "GREATKING. WHAT AM I TO THEE?" i ^^^m^t^^ msiMiwmmM '^tsmssffsfs^m^fi ^^VrlT' *' "^"^ "' P""«' "« they bowed before my will? '^ No more I For my tyranny U vanquished. All I was, IS naught. Like the play of pampered children seem the ends for which I wrought AH my trappings and my triumphs are as fag. gots without flame. ^ Like a road from night to morning seems the way by which I came. Life beyond me, take my homage, as the sun drmks from the stream I who has caught thy gleam I wind'l' 7T" ""^ •'""'■ "^ *e strong Wind bends the tree, Lord of Light, thou hast enslaved me I Great Kmgl What am I to thee? irmn of attendants and retainer!. As she dh nus,c,ans enter playing, ^.^in, tack^.^d. -T^iwsifT— .^ar-iaisiKB^ I, 32 DAUGHTERS OF DAWN The King enters speaking, and dismisses his attendants with a gesture. Solomon Balkis, Queen of thy kind, I must find thee again. 1 have sought in the sound of the flute and the harpstring in vain The enchantment that lurks in thy voice for the stirrim; of man! No fire oi gems like thine eyes, no dye like thy tan! What gives thee thy lustre, like amber aglow with old wine? What perfume of cedar, of sunshine and sum- mer is thine? The palpitant sense of thy presence is still on the air. My fir-trees have caught the blue shadows that lurk in thy hair. Who taught thee that sibylline quiet which teases my power, As the strength of soft winds the ocean uplifts in an hour? m T^i^TT'^rTrKr^vEmm DAUGHTERS OF DAWN 33 Thy leonine courage, thy query that throbs to the mark, Are fires of new revelation, enkindling the dark. Thy gifts hold the glamour of giving that dwells in thy hand ; Thy tribute no kingship could merit; stay thou m our land! My realm is a desert without thee to set it abloom ; My skill is but dull, since it caught not th> vit m its loom. Come, give me thine ardor that leaps from the iip to the heart I Come, teach me the tremor of eyelids where tears wait to start I Come, tell me the word that was spoken when Lucifer felil There is naught at the source of dominion thou knowest not well. ^t the end of his soliloquy Solomon goes out, following the direction taken by Balkis. Curtain and Music rr**i* I lli H ^^■"^^ 1 I c 1 i IV SAPPHO Sixth Century B. C. i .^: PERSONS IN THE SCENE Sappho Phaon Atthis Anactoria Gyrinna GORGO DiCA Telesippa Mnasidica Myrto Lais Myrtocleia Bacchis I Chrysis J Friends of Sappho i f S»I^5I^:;v LhMl 1 /i! SAP" IK) SAPPHO Prologue While Israel cringed eo .la-nd Omnipotence An d„ele ,„ fe„ „f ,he unspoken Lj ' Wh le pnests of V.gy,, p„„j„„j „„ And N,„eveh was sinking ,„ ,,e. joo^,"'"' The day was spreading on the .'Egean sea, Where^white-sailed Tyrian coasters phcd with And^glad young ,-,e„as hailed the wakening The^re^J,eyond marble cliffs where jonquil, Were rosy porticos and temples dim With mellow ivory and dusky gold. Her gardens odorous with hyacinth, Her r,ver.l,eds ablaze with pomegranate, Her gr^es of laurel spreading in'he s .- There hke a tulip where the flame n, life Burns <,u,ck and clear, bloomed Lesbos of the Music if 38 DAUGHTERS P DAWN I f ¥t j' (! . Cho, l s Who is this wi'l: I'f -f rst In her luminous ey '^, - Whose rapture u .u. 1 1! Burns quickly ;>!' ' i-* ; As the dew burned aw v <t ' leaves only the color .nd I .: . lOrning She is vibrant aid warm As a meadow at noon; She is lonely as storm, Or the cloud-sailing moon; She is glad as new friendship unbroken, and sad as old loves that expire. She is swift as a thrush, The noiseless of wing, \v^hen the damp woodlands gush With his lyric of spring. She dances like small meadow rivers that run through the twilight and sing. This is Sappho. Men gave To new-minted gold Ilcr image to save f'or the peoples untold, That her heautv mur^*- ^auf) might ever companion the echoing chords of .,cr lyre. n.ough all lovely things lo the dust shall l,e traced, ^r^d the names of great kings irom their tombs be effaced, Hername shall be fresh through the ages as i>Pring rains on the ruins of Tyre. The garden of Sappho's house in Lesbos y^^;^^^^^^e.ches,a,ree.s,.uej tn the dutauce. A ..all at the foot of the aar- <^-^>^nh a, ate Into the street. ThhlZ ^ff'/^'^-rHe^.^thalo^odoorste,^ ^nh the ground. It is afternoon. Enter from another part of th. j 40 DAUGHTERS OF DAWN i \\> /i n Anactoria How warm the new sun is ! Chrysis Surely it is full time To honor our Adonis 1 DiCA Where is Sappho? Atthis Sappho 1 They all call in unison. Sappho! Sappho! Sappho! Enter Sappho from the house. Sappho Sweet friends! Has the sunshine Lit thoughts of Adonis In your lovely heads? Bring thy lute, Gyrinna! Dica, bring thy garlands! And thy golden jonquils, i ) ii 1 ;^jm Chryslsl Myrtocleia, Dance here at my left hand I Thou hore, dearest AtthisI Myrto shall be chorus, With her silver voice. 41 Ana.-roria, thou Ardentest of lovers (Anactoria embraces her) ihy sweet call would waken The sleepiest Adonis I Oh, these happy hours Of the spring in Lesbos! Surely he must harken To our chorus now. They dance, joining in the refrain of Myrto's Hymn to Adonis. Now the winter is gone by, And the swallow builds again, (Lovely Adonis!) Now the quickening sun is warm, And the wind is soft with rain. (Lovely Adonis!) M\ 42 DAUGHTERS OF DAWN a Now the waking earth is sweet With the scent of purple flowers. (Thou sweet Adonis!) All the buds are opening wide, Wasting through the golden hours. (Thou fond Adonis!) Now the nightingales are come, With their piercing flutes of gold; (Beloved Adonis!) And thy lovers cry to thee, In their passion, as of old. (Cruel Adonis!) Call him bac'i across the years! He is fairer than the day. (Hear us, Adonis!) Love, ah, love, — is anything Half so sweet, for all men say? (Harken, Adonis!) Fling his robe of frost aside. And his bands of sleep unbind I (Waken, Adonis!) 1^ I! I '^^MW^KmsimfM^--'s^jmsi^sm'i£ DAUGHTERS OP DAWN Were they lovelier long ago Those who loved thee-or more kind? (Love us, Adonis I) Cherish him with tender fire In the woodlands of the spring, (Deathless Adonis I) And with him assuage desire. Ah, Is love so fleet a thing? (Lovely Adonis I) Street music is heard. Chrysis Hark, a tambourine I Atthis The street musicians I Anactoria That's the boy from Naxos I O the darling! Do you love him, DIca,-or the dark one ' W-th the captive woodbird? He Is thine. ClIRYSIS They are moving on now. 43 - ^1 ^1 I ir: "i'L. 'hl'S' '^i^mm^'Ma^amM^^sm w n ^' .i f 44 DAUGHTERS OF DAWN Anactoria Let us follow 1 ^ ney run off, laughing. When they are gone, Sappho sits on a bench, beginning to le sad. The afternoon is waning. Sappho Ah, me ! . . . May Adonis Find them I . . . This soft spring wind Makes my fillet heavy. She loosens her hair. Thou dear swallow flashing Over Mytilene, Art thou never weary All the blinding day long In our Northern blue? She sings If death be good, Why do the gods not die ? If life be ill, Why do the gods still live? V ! W ■ i N M^iM'mmtimit^Dmm^rm'^-iMMJiAmsmiW'^. mi i:;^fis^,^^i^Aa^^£ w:-i DAUGHTERS OF DAWN 45 If love be naught, Why do the gods still love? If love be all, What should men do but love? What a thing is woman In this world! All music, Ecstasy, and dreaming, With her gems and garlands, Gauze and gold I All dancing, And bright laughter, bubbling Like a silver fountain Out of th^; dark earth I And her friendships,— stories Told to amuse children I Shadows that fly seaward I All the while her heart aches Only with one longing, One demand . . . O Phaon, Thou art so long- absent From this empty world ! In just such lovely weather He would come v/ith evening. To sit here all happy . wr-'M^^aum^m^Tn 46 DAUGHTERS OF DAWN , r ^ ' ^ hi I could hear him far off In the fragrant twilight, (// flute is heard in the distance) Ere he crossed the meadow. The playing grows more distinct. O, praise Aphrodite! Phaon! Enter Piiaon. Phaon ! Phaon ! What am I to thee? Phaon O my Sappho ! Heart of gladness, What should thy soul do with sorrow? See, I bring thee gems from Egypt, Phrygian linen white as sea-foam. Scarlet cloth from Tyre; Eastern perfumes, and a girdle Of wrought gold from ancient Sidon. Not a port but has paid tribute To thy beauty, in the sea-bales They unlade for thee. Sappho Only one gift have the high gods given To man, Phaon, without stint or question, As my heart knows, — love. V' I w^,'T^.i^i::^ .^i**iiSP!' i'w '^/•M^iia??»w;5risis»>t«af)5a5aKi--~ija*: 47 Thou art all my Egypt and my Sidon Earth and sea have paid me their full tribute. it thou love me still. Pi I AON Sapp'-o, not an isle from Rhodes to Imbros, Not a pme-dark headland where the foan, breaks, But has heard the prayers and eager vows I whispered Day and night for thee. When I walked through splendid sunlit cities, My lone heart was traversing a desert, And the murmuring throngs were but as mov- mg sand-drifts, Sappho, without thee. Nevermore, till the dread hour shall part us. May I be beyond thy call, thy hand-touch ! Thou art all about me like the sweet dusk wheehng Up from the great sea. They go into the house. Night is falling. Curtain and Music >ii»'-" ' I N' i ji V IZEYL Fifth Century B. C. 49 .fraKi»i.%if Ml ri il PERSONS IN THE SCENE IZEYL Buddha A Man-servant of Izeyl Two Disciples of Buddha. Attendants and House Servants of Izeyl t^u 50 v^aES i I WlT TZIatw If It' I 1 i I I 1 1 li. ii -:^f™,iS?r- IZEVL ■:fWmMF. ^A:mcmw^j^^^¥r. D.MKJMTf.RS OF [)\\VN 51 IZEYL Prologue The Himalayas, Dwellings of the Snow. Look down on all the fertile Ganges pi. I,,, Where, spreading like a flood from high I'.rnir Seeking new land, the Aryan drift went b^ Singing glad Vcdas while the world was you.A. Then rose the priestly Brahman over them With bonds of caste, stern ritual and rule, The sterile rites and dull formalities, That would enslave the incarnate soul of maa And blight the progress of a growing world. Here, having pity for the plight of men And all their futile agonies of life, Came Buddha, the Enlightened in the Way, Preaching Renunciation of Desire, The only surety of an earthly peace. Music . -.S*-':- "^X.'. '■■''•■ <• -J ■■f.' '. It; ' V' 52 DAUGHTERS OF DAWN \l\ Chorus Who stands in the dusk Of the courtesan's square, With an odor of music In her nosom and hair, With anklets of turquoise and silver that clink for the passer to hear? Mysterious as night, With her hot scarlet mouth, And a glittering light In those eyes of the South, As if all of her exquisite being had never one hunger to fear! She moves like the smoke. As it swoons on still air. When the censers evoke Old gods from their lair; The sway of her body is music more madden- ing than incense or prayer. The desire of the heart, The delight of the eye, I I , I DAUGHTERS OF DAWN S3 She knows not apart, To forego nor deny, For love is the sum of her being, and beauty is all of her gear. Ah, fear her not! Hers Is that passion of soul Which no height deters, No terrors control, — Izeyl, the enamored of Buddha, who waits for her god to draw near. The courtyard in front of Izeyl's house in the Deer Forest north of Benares. A large rug is spread in the centre of the court, a low divan at one side, with small tables or benches near it. On the opposite side, a wall and gate- -^ay, the main entrance to the grounds. It is moonlight. Servants enter carrying silver dishes of rice, fruits, and confections, basins and jugs of water, towels, etc., and set them down on the tables and the ground. Izeyl with two attendants enters from the house. ij; 54 DAUGHTERS OF DAWN '!;-f-1 mi IZEYL Make all ready. Let chere be nothing lacking nor amiss. Though uc have had many guests, there was never one like this. ^ man servant enters from the gate, follozved by Buddha and tzco disciples zvho ap- proach and bow to IzEYL. Welcome, O enlightened one, to this house. A happy day Brings thy footsteps to my door, bids thee tarry on thy way, Lets me serve thee. That my lord's heart with gladness may be free. Rest here in the perfumed dusk of the roses strewn for thee. Buddha Thy words are lavish as the wayside stars, Shedding their bounty for the pilgrim night. No goodlier seeds than kindness come to blos- som In this great world to be faint heart's delight. '.:-'*_i''-, ':: |APV ^.^■P^^<:'mM:^:-X:-/&Mi^ nAUGHTERS OF DAWN 55 Servants ztait upon Buddha, remove his san- <Ials, .vash the dust from his feet, offer him food and drink. He takes a cup of ivater hut declines to eat. His disciples withdraw to a distant part of the court. The sere ants go out, except Izeyl's two personal at^ tendants, who stand back by the house door. IZEYL Sit, Lord. I will dance for thee. Here until the moon grows pale Thou Shalt be the worshipped one, I thy wor- shipper Izeyl. She prepares to dance. The dance is one of the ancient dramatic dances of India. It portrays the first glimpse of the belovr ' embarrassment, infatuation, coquetry, en- ticement, and the overtures of love. It then becomes more reckless in its sorceries ^■fn/c the beloved still seems obdurate. The dance next betrays jealousy, anger, and finally melting sorrow and surrender. ' t ! i ¥ II iHii 56 i).M:(;nri.RS of dawm Now the play is Love. It moves like a wind among the trees, Woman's drama of the soul, with mysterious melodies. I'ear as faltering as night, desire imperious as day, Hold Love at their mystic height, till wild joy must have its way. Love is water for thy thirst, Love is honey for thy mouth. Is thy heing never faint in a land of parching drouth? Loose the girdle from her breast and the lotus from her hair! Take her, for sweet life or death! Is there anyone more fair? She dances, and at the conclusion of her dance falls at Buddha's feet. Lo, my beauty at thy feet, and my hand upon thy knee, In despair of love I lay. Buddha, what am I to thee? Buddha puis out his hand and touches her, as she remains seated near him on the ground. m 'SIT. LORD. I UU.L UA.NCI. FOR THEE' .if. I . it 'I I"" if ''■' : <i M ■i DAUGIITKRS OF DAWN 57 Buddha Thou art all beauty, glowing sense and spirit, The world's supremcst splendor and desire. Thou art the flower-like joy, the flame-like pas- sion Whose breath consumes men with relentless fire. Thou art the subtle unforgotten fragrance That hauncs this life with an assuaging power. And would beguile the soul upon her journey,' To deify one perishable hour. But I, compelled by sorrow for men's warfare Against their bonds upon the wheel of life, Through sore compassion found the Great Re- nouncement The only strength to stay the ravenous strife. Crave nothing! But in kindness with rejoicing Follow the common highway unto peace. There only can survive the flower of wisdom, There only can serene love find release. Whoso is tranquil, diligent, undaunted, Not overcome with riches nor with cares. Free from all anger, arrogance, and baseness. . t m \' m III h 58 DAUGHTrRS OF DAWN Seeking the truth as one who climbs the stairs Within a tower of outlook, while in all things Serving his fellows with illumined mind,— However slowly, shall escape from darkness. And all the weight of sorrow leave behind. For this I waited underneath the Bo-tree, Keeping stern vigil through the holy night, Until Truth dawned, as I beheld the snow-peaks Flushed with a tender glory height on height. Buddha rises and paces to and fro, Khile IZEYL remains seated. And yet the doubt comes — what avails the watching Above the world in unimpassioned calm? Do they not sometimes long, those soaring sum- mits, To wear the valley's wealth of bloom and balm? Ah, not alone thy beauty moves my senses. But the fair soul within thee calls my soul. My manhood strains at touch of joy so tender To lay aside the austere staff and bowl. nAUOIITFRS OF DAWN 59 The servant of the gate enters and bows be- fore IZEYL. Servant Protectress of the weak, the poor in throngs Are crowding at the gate to lay their wrongs Before the Holy One, their woes and wants. Shall I give dole us unto mendicants? IZEYL, rising Nay, I myself will give, who have this day Received the wealth that passes not away. Let them be fed. Take these, and these, and these, — She pulls off her gold and jewelled ornaments and gives them to the servant, her women at the same time removing her anklets. And all I have for their necessities. Turn gold and gems to bread that men may live, There still is more,— I have my life to give. Go, tell them that Izeyl became to-night A follower of Buddha and the light. ill 6o ' K iti ! I I ,1 i.t i ill nAUflMTKKS DP DAWN \V The scn-cnit yua am and \/.\ VL finr to BunniiA. Now the undclcrrnincd way to perfection waits us still, — Thou the sim upon the height, I (he mist hcio the hill! So, dear Lord, the play is done, as the noon begins to fail. And thy worshipper departs, i'hou shalt sec no more rzeyi. This, that was my house and park, for thy shel- ter is bestowed, Love's provision for thy peace when a-weary of the road. She claps her hands, and her allcudanis come forzi-ard, liith the servant of the gate, to "^ait upon her departure. Buddha Thou wondrous prodigal, no merit worthy Thy matchless bounty hrve I, who must pass, Like a disturbing wind among the palm-Icaves, Like an unresting shadow from the crass. But thy good deed like P. rcvv. ing perfume, .>.'l^-» "C Bi;i,()\ I- I) OM-;, FAR|. \vi:i. !•• ^tfH MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHART (ANSI ond ISO TEST CHART No. 2) ^ y^PPUEO IN/MGE '653 East Mam Sfeet Rochester. Ne» York U609 USA ('16) 482 - 0300 - Phone (7!6) 288 - 5989 - Fa, '■'■■'.. .f'»«W • l-i i r I ' ■ f i < M I • f i hi t * 1 I ■ i 1 Si ^ ^ 1 'ii 1 1 ^ 'i ■ s S Si A ii DAUCniTKHS OF n WVNT 6i Within the memories of men shall ilwcll, Inspired ahandon! May the Perfect Way Requite thee ! IZEYL O beloved one, farewell! S/ic goes out, accompamcd by her two vcomen, ■alio cover their faces ivith their saris in desolation. Buddha is left standing alone in the growing darkness. Curtain and Music ■*''^^l i ■ i. ■ill ' ■ ' ! iff It- • ) ■ % i • 3 f 1, !' ? i^ 1 1 •- 1 1,' 1] H . I ' ' ' f n t i Mary persons in the sckne The Angel At the Tomb 64 ,( 'Mr^* 3B^ .^^^•'^^Oi 1^ I' i i ■ li' I f M A R Y M>a nALciiii IKS or D.wvx <'5 MARY Pro LOG ui: In the brief peace of the Augustan Age, Three trends of human headway checked dieir course, Like currents eddying in a tideless calm. Kastern magniliccnce and mystic dream, Hellenic learning and awakened art, And Roman discipline, all came tv halt. As when unbridled revellers at dawn Look wanly forth on time's expectant hush. Stilled of a sudden in satiety. The ancient world of lust and rapine seemed To pale with prescience of impending doom. Outside a Syrian rest-house, with no pomp Save glittering troops of stars relieving guard, A Prince of the Eternal Light was born, Whose only ensign was a loving heart. Music ■v^'^F 'i 66 n.\cf;im Rs or daw.v ■I 1 1 ( 'i : 1 ! ' 1 ' 1 I ! i ■ ClFORUS What spirit so white, With eyes bent on tlie Rroimil, As (hough lost in the plight Of a sorrow profoimcl, That tenderness, faith, and devotion should founder In death and dismay? She lifts her worn face, And the glory is there, — The mothering grace, The victorious care, That have fostered the hope of the ages and prospered the world on its way. Her fair mouth Is still, Her hands are at rest, With that power to thrill, By the quiet possessed, m the soul to its Ic-d is surrendered and divinity swells In the breast. O all who have prayed To the glorious son 1^ i)\r<;Mri.Ks or dawn (n Of thi3 poor Jewish ni-iJ, Since her travail was done, Have yc bred In your sons the high courage to be heroes of truth In nclr day? Have ye given brave thought To bring beauty to birth? I lave yc suffered and wrought I' or the welfare of earth? So your servl'c transfigured to glory, ! kc Mary's, shall not pass away. A rocky place before the sepulchre of Christ. The etitruurc to the tomb is on slightly rising ground at the back, ziiih straight evergreen trees on either side. His mother is seated on a siune near by, clad in ichite, uith a fold of her garment cccr her head. She scwsely moves until tozvard the close of her first speech. It is just before dazvn on the morning of the 'third dcr/ after the crucifixion. Matt l^ord of the darkness and the broken heart, tht still purple hour before the sun, dims.^ ^sw. r,8 nM'fiim.Ks oP n\\\ l: II I ]' I. ! I Upon whose floor our lives are sifted chaff. \iul through whose har Is tlie sands of ages run, Thy will he done! Shall there he no compassion In rlie w-ht, No h ,d nor hearing of our firiev )om, No heart that feels the loneliness oj ,,urs, No hope of tidings from the unknown tomb 'I'o pierce the gloom? After the anguish ot defeat and death, Through boundless desolation of the years, Is there no sign to help us live or die, No touch to wipe away the bitter tears, And o'llet fears? Knows God the agon^ o.^ mother pain For every sorrow of thr son she bore? Can any cry to Heaven bring again The voice they have entombed, and closed the door, For evermore? If mortal heart can bear the woe and wrong, And still live on in sorrow day by day, . w^ww m nArcic ;.::s or owvv 69 'UOIIS ^(1! It hrokfii lute can lilt a Or darkened lamp still serve with dying ray, Sh(»\v thou the way! (ircat (;„d, thou sccst the path I tread alone, I'hoi, knowest all that has hcen and shall he, And all ;ny love .,f I li,n who was thine own,— What in thy mighty d-- am of destiny Am I to thee? As she doses her speech, she rises and goes a step or tzio Umard the tomb, lifting im- ploriucj arms aloft, the fold of her rohe slipping from her head as she does so. She stands thus transfixed for a moment, facing the sepulchre, and then turns uith a look of uonder, her arms still upslretched, her '•^■ehole figure illumined in the first rays of the new sun, and her face transfigured idth rapture of revelation. From the slightly higher ground she has taken, she looks toller, too, than her iiont; so that passers- l^y might think they had seen an angel. She speaks in a level tone. ¥^wm^',i.ifmm^i^.^mi. ^-^^ (i ft 4 J H 70 DAUGIITF.RS OF DAWN Mary, as Tiir: Anc.t.l Hail, Mary of Sorrows, acquainted with woe. Lift thy Rricf-shadowcd gaze to the light-hear- ing sun \ Each quivering leaf and the dawn winds that hlow Breathe solace upon thcc; the victory's won; Weep not ! Thy God holds thy hands as he holds night and day. Through the rounds of his service, the ways to his ends; When thine arms are weakest, his strength is tiiy stay, Thine eyes shall sec clear in the light that he sends. Fear not! Lift up thy soul on the wings of his voice, Be glad thou wert chosen to play thy great parf, Bid all thy mothering patience rejoice, Let the world rest on the strength of thy heart! Faint not! Conceived of divine love, the rapturous soul, Stainless as dew and unfearing as fire, ^mss--''^-iiwc^Tr2:^s' '•WEEP NOT!" ^ I > f '.• ' i 'I : ' 4 . 1 f ! 1 ^ 1 'l in It, i 1 1 ■'^2^r;?sr*"3?iiiKiiiSSP«p^ mimFM DAUGHTERS OF D.WVX 71 From hope unto hope as the quickened years roll, Shall arise and live on through dismay and desire. Aspire! The God of all good cannot waver nor sleep. Receive the sweet truth that shall lighten thine eyes, And be thou the Angel earth's courage to keep, The great Loving-Kindness that lights Para- dise! Behold! Shine on through the ages and arches of heaven, For thine is a glorious share in Ciod's plan! Unto thee from the first to the last has been given The illuming, the heartening, the moulding of man. Rejoice ! Mary keeps her prophetic pose until the cur- tain falls. Curtain and Music I. ■ f ■t M, ^^-^^■^^m <»t,x.' " ■rws^m-- VII ZENOBIA 2'jo A. D. 73 h PERSONS IN THE SCENE Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra AuREUAN, Emperor of Rome A Troupe of Arab Dancing Girls and Mu- sicians Roman Officers and Soldiers, Litter-bearers, Guards. Attendants, etc. ( i: ■li ■ i : ' i - f'sS^Wt'.w y't^^"' Au' crs, I ,3 ' M! S ' ill Ill Iv ^ F \ o n I A «.^--- DALrGMTIRS OF D.WVM IS ZENOBIA Prologue Hark! To what sound like thunder far away Do cities trcmhlc and stronf: men turn pale? They clutch the sword in Kastern palaces, They lift the tent-fold on Arabian plains, And start in forests of wild Gaul, to hear The tramp of Roman legions through the world. Then through the beauty of the star-sown night An angry glare upon the sky proclaims An opulent city given to the torch Of ruthless conquerors on the march to power. Where once men trafficked in the crowded streets, And women chattered in the bright bazaars, While children thronged the Temple of the Sun, — The wild boar feeds among sad ruined walls Of great Palmyra in the desert sands. Music m \i 76 DAUGHTERS OF DWVV ,% f1 f ! (1; ClIORCS Who Is this come, In haste rVom the crowds to be gone, Through the Palmyrene waste, While the legions draw on. With tumult of murderous passions that con- quering lust has released? She sees at her gates Roman standards unfurled, Where once vassal states Brought the trade of the world, — Where long caravans o'er the desert came in from the marvellous East. She stands like a palm Aloof and unbent. With the sky's royal calm For her curtain and tent. Her loveliness still undefeated, her regal devo- tion unspent. Barbaric in splendor. Heroic at heart, : JB».T. Z'7./:. '-•■■■J ■ ' C2ri» -j^.n:.. "^'MA *> nM'i TFRS OF PAWN' Undautittn and tender, She plays fier great part, Though the reins o her power arc broken, the days of her empire have ceased. Iltr beauty stiM reigns, ^ ^ her h nes al! have died, I lerce graov ^^ur remains, — -'cdc lin pi Je, — Zenobi.i en o. f*; 'm ta. the coveted pearl of tb; isr. /// fn It of A if man's tt'tr before Palmyra. The Emperor %€mt(d, surruundcd by a fezv of his t, (•ncrah jml o§, ers. J troupe of Arab dancinifi girls t^nd ww.v iatis run in to dance for him Bef re ^.- lose of their dance there is a stf outside rii ihe i.as ^ arrival of tzvo run- ners follo-a , losed litter borne by eif/ht bearers. The dozen their burden and, as- sisted by yu f*--is, Zknobia alujhts ziilh one woman in zia^ ing. Ji sight of her the danc- ing girls at once stop I'rir dance and, ignoring the Emperor, run to Zr.NOBiA, kneel before her, and surround her with every mark of loyal I N'l '{I l<4 ,1 II ill ! t ' ! 1 » (' it 7« nAunrrTfRs of nwvx (hfnilnnion, cryiiuj, 'Lotufllfe In /lnoiua!' ./,« Al'Rii.AN rises atid (ipproarlns /i.ndijia, </ inniipct sounds and servants and darners Jitli^ draw. Auri:li/» Fortunate Is this hour, indeed I I lappy the day for Rome, When here unto Aurelian's tent the Queen of the East Is conic! Zkxohia And dark for my country, Kmperor! Auri:lian N:iy, It had darker been. Mad not the gods > cllvered thee Into my hands, brave Queen. ZCNOBIA Aurcllan, say not the gods preside over a thing so base As the treachery which betrayed me here, a prisoner before thy face. n.M'finTr Ks OF nwvv 79 (). better far, hml my luckless star gone down in the dust of H^ht, — Had my gl«)ry passed unsoiled at last into et'.-r- nal night ! And lordher fiad thy legions shown above a broken wall, Than skulking at a traitor's gate, let in at a scullion's call. Since when did the Roman eagle« deign to take a reptile's kill, Like unclean vultures swooping low and greedy for their fill? Had not black treason sold mc here, like a Bithynian slave, Palmyra should have been my tomb, her cita- del my grave. Zcnobia would not have lived to be the spoil of war, — To be the Forum's spectacle, in chains behind thy car. Ye know the creed of ihc desert breed, whom none can bind nor bow, Rovers of earth by right of birth, from the dawn of time till now. \nu 4 h \i l'C< I I!!' 80 nAFGIITFRS OF DAWN But even the gods must strive In vain, at war with treachery. Their altar fires arc but the pyres of the dar- ing and the free. AURELIAN You wrong the sons of the Roman wolf I They know the desert's way. And well they know the proudest foe is a lion- ess at bay. What evil councillors were thine to move thee to this war? Did Rome not give you peace and wealth,— could liberty give more? Have not your laden caravans brought all the world in trade Up to your gates, with none to bar the roads that Trajan made? Zenobia Hear me, my captor! Had there been upon the Ca?sars' throne One like Aurellan in days past, this discord had not grown. DAunnTr.Rs or nww 8i While puny tyrants fought like knaves for ihc sceptre fallen low, Was I to be their prize and fee? By the Im- mortals, No! Bred to the freedom of the tents, horn of .i royal line, I drew the tribes into a Power. I made it. It was mine. Here out of turbulence and strife a sovereign state I reared, — Palmyra in the Wilderness, rich, beautiful, and feared. Insolent Persia felt my will, even Imperial Rome As empire unto empire in peace or war must come. Could I lay by this sovereignty at a dictator's word? Step lightly down from throne and crown, and join the driven herd? Ceasing to reign, I cease to live. Does Aure- lian wonder why? Can a Cssar and a soldier ask? Need Zeno- bia reply? 1 i 1 h -' I I ^ ■!,< (' I* ■ i lit 82 nATTGIITF.RS OF DAWM Those poor dance girls with matted curls, that clung about my knee, Shall grace my lord's triumphal march; but what am I to thee? AURF.LIAN Thy noble words, Zenobia, prove well thy royal strain. I do lamcn. the downfall of one so fit to reign. Had not ambition duped thee, and thy guides who counselled ill. Palmyra had been sovereign, and thou her ruler still. Let not ambition lure you, my captains, to your fall. Ever the overreaching hand must end by losing all. Would that this -.^dcss folly which Is the whole world's bane Might die with me, uprooted never to rise again I Yet is thy speech untempered, great leader of the tribes! Unfair to Roman justice, thy bitter grief- wrung jibes. WMWf^ DAUnilTRRS OF DAWN 83 Believe the lonely desert shaH forget the morn- ing star, When Roman virtue has forgot what truth and honor arc. I were myself a traitor, had I not seized the hour When renegade informers betrayed thee to our power. Receive a soldier's tribute ! Accept a Roman's word ! A lumult is heard outside. A band of unruly so.dicrs clamor'ng for the life of Zexobia A number of officers hurry out immediately find quell the disturbance. Fear not my wayward legions. Thy guard shall be my sword. No safer wert thou ever. Thou shalt go hence to Rome, — There with respect and honor be welcome and at home. And this thy noble city with its Temple of the Sun Shall be preserved from pillage. For thy sake it is done. w tl S4 nAUGIITF.RS OF DAWN Although thy rash advisers must pay their folly's cost; Thou art no less an empress, for an empire's being lost. The world awards thee homage I Zenobia Magnanimous, my foe ! AURELIAN Thine Emperor attends thee. The 1.^ there ! We go. frith her last viord Zenobia turns away to enter her litter; but as she hears Aurelian say 'Thine Emperor attends thee' she turns and looks into his face. Seeing that he is preparing to accompany her on foot, she signals her hearers to follow, and walks out by Aurelian's side, bearers and at- tendants following. Curtain and Music \\ i VIII JEANNE D'ARC 1427 A. D. h (? t I '! '4: PERSONS IN THE SCENE Jeanne d'Arc Jacques d'Arc, Her Father i i M u ajv*c-» i ( "^rrr ■i" :-''!.*i.-,v TTT^ ^'i *;!!L_-'i;-. ■'><■-. -L.'^/.*. _:. m} ... .. ■ f in JKWNK D'ARC I)\l (iiriLKS OF DAWN 87 JEANNE D'ARC Pro LOG I IK For a thousand years from Rome lo Agiiicourt Terror and darkness overspread the world With superstition, bigotry, and crime, While warring nations and marauding kings Raven and slay and wither into dust. Chivalry rides upon its last crusade, And Learning slumbers in the Church's tomb. Barons and bishops, emperors and serfs, Wallow in witchcraft, cruelty, and greed. As if the angels had forgotten earth. Hardly a voice to keep God's name alive; Till on a summer morn in lovely France, On the shadowy forest border of the Vosges, In small Domreniy of peasant folk is born A Little Siscer of the Nazarene. Music ^n 88 DAlKJUriRS OF PAWN Chorus Who remembers God's poor In their humble attire? Yet in them shall enilure The seeil ami the fire, — The strength for fullilment of longings, and faith for the dreaming of dreams. Who stands with rapt ga/e In a day-dream, and sees, — While her quiet sheep graze By the tA\ poplar trees, — A shadowy legion advancing, an army that musters and gleams? As a clear minster bell Thrills the soul of the air, Her voice lays a spell O'er a realm in despair, Till the laggard take arms at her sum.mons, assured that God's champion is there. Tn war-harness bright, Through the dust and the fray, F)\i'(;nTr.Ks or n\\v\ 89 With valor alight, She forpics her way, Til! her mission's victorious stanilard on the wind above Orleans streams. No witchcraft was here, — Slantier wide of the mark! Kevelatlon shone clear In the sainteil Jeanne d'Arc, — A strain of intrepid conviction, which greatly foresees and redeems. Outside J.\CQUi:s d'Arc's home in the vil- lage of Domrcniy on the harder ' i grc:it for- est. Ji:.\.\\i.: stands leaning against a tree a little azcay from the house. Her father sits on a stone nearby. He is a peasant of the soil, al- ready beginning In he old, and his mind is on the past. There is a stream liith a fezv pal- larded ivilloiis leaning over '•■ t far azvav and sheep are grar ^ /;/ the v> adozv. It is near sundozvn on a summer a..,. A large pale moon is seen just rising over the ziood. Sub- dued music is faintly heard through Ji-.\xxi:'s speeches. :!l h 90 l>Mu;!rTI RS OF PAWN I . f '/ Jeanne Father, I hear the voices now. Canst thou not hear them, too, — 'I'here hy the forest eJj^e, so clear, So woiulerfiil, so true, With sound as sweet as tlie summer rain When the little leaves are new? Her Father Ay, lass, I hear. 'Twill be the wind Talking among the trees. 'Tis like a human voice, the wind, Full of old melodies. It minds me of the night I took Thy mother gfi my knees. Jeanne Father, I cannot mind my work, The voices call me so; They call me at the dead of noon When all the winds are low, And when the golden dawn comes up With not a breath av. n.M(;iii I Ks OF' nwvN 9» I hear them wliik' F turn tny wIkcI, And wliIlc I tend jny sheep; I hoar them in the dewy ikisk When I lie down to sleep; And even at the Holy Mass My mind I cannot keep. They call and call, 'Jehan, Jehan, Thy harried country save!' I hear them through the music's sound, And when the censer' wave, As the procession of the I lost Goes up the minster nav Her Fatiikr Ay, ay, I hear thcc, lass, — I hear. Thou mind'st mc of my prime. When I would go across the fields In the eager summer time, To court thy mother at her wheel, Singing an eerie rhyme. She always had the misty look Of things unkenncd and far; 1-; \HErTl*-il \'.:' 92 n.\(T(;,i , I ,^^ fjp PAWN , \ M ii.i n And always fancies in her head Of princes, rhymes, and war, And how the Little People dance Around the evening star. Midsummer Eve it was. I mind There was a smell of hloom; Out of the dusk a little wind Went whispering through the room; And all the meadow was alive With fireflies in the gloom. Jeanne Father, I see the Figure now. 'lis St. Michael with his sword, And a great white shield on his arm. He marches to award Her rightful victory to France, And I can hear his word. Her Father It Is the great shield of the moon That is so bright and round. It is the mist from off the stream, That moves along the ground. \m DAUCHTFRS OF DAWN As quiet as a churchyanl ^rhost That never makes i sound. Jkanxe And there is McrWn in his eloak Who comes to counsel me, That since a wanton ruined France, A maid must set her (rcc. 'Jchan, rejoice, (iod's holy choice Has fallen on Domremy!' IIi:K I'ATIIKR 'Tis but the crooked willow hole. That leans across the brook. The long grey moss is like a beard, He has an ancient look. I've often marked him leaning there. Like a shepherd on his crook. Jeaxxe Father, T sec our banners pass; The horses strain and neigh; Our men at arms in cavalcade. And knights in war array, 9.1 ■^^ i^l.'il.. , £■• '1 •I I ■ > 1-: 94 DAUGHTERS OF DA.VN And kings and squires with commoners Are hasting to the fray. And at their . ud in whitest mail, A standard in her hand, Whereon the Virgin sits enthroned And fair white lilies stand, Rides thy Jehan, for serving man, To free her luckless land. '•!'. Rank upon rank with dust and clank The fuming chargers go, Our halberds gleam, our pennons stream, The level spears arc low. On helm ; nd lance the sunbeams dance. I would I need not go ! i ill Her Father Ay, ay! Thy mother had these flights. I mind her fancies well. Sometimes she'd hear a cry for help, Times an alarum bell. And times In the half-dusk she'd see Strange sights she would not tell. ■1»?'M>*^V ^ •! WOLLD I NEED NOT GO:" I !•' .r*' . t^?: ■) ( < i u DAUOriTF-RS OF D WVX 95 I mind the night 1 brought licr home J hey seemed to vex her sore. She had a fey look on her face, When I led her through the door. But when the good God sent thee down, Ghosts troubled her no more. When thou art wed and far this place, 'Twill mend, my lass, 'twill mend, — When thou hast daughters by the hand. And a man-f'hild to tend! For God him If sets store by love. And love is dieuming's end. Je.anne Father, you do not understand. The only love I ask Is Christ and L ■ dear Mother's love, To aid me in my task, And send the French swords ringing down Through English shield and casque. So I must seek my lord the King, And be his counsellor, — Tell him the angel's messages r 1$ i ii! if' 96 DAunilTF.RS OF D AWN That hid him forth to war. And I must ride, as his maiden guide, Though I should die therefor. The voices of the ancient wood I lave put the power on me. The angels summon Jehan d'Arc To serve God's destiny. For pity on the realm of France. . . . But what am T to thee? /// this the old mnn rises from his seat. It is his only sign of feeling so far. Her Father How should a maid go to the wars, With rough-shod men to ride? Be there no captains near the King, To counsel and to guide? Is there no doubt of this thy call? Must we this ill abide? What dost thou say? What art to me? My own lass ! God thee keep ! . . . Embracing her, he turns to brush away tears. n.M-Ginr.Rs or d.wvx 97 It is the mist amoMj^ the trees. Go now and fold thy shccj) ! . . . lie sits ii.iuitUy. It is the mist upon the plain. I am weary unto sleep! His head sinks forziard on his hrcasl. Ills hands lie Idle. In the j\idnuj dayllyht, Jeanne stands yaziny Into the dusk. Curtain and Music i^m w ill' il I' I m' ■ "V- j 1 ft -*ii , -^^*H :i^.i^.^.m''M IX VITTOKIA COLONNA 1535 A. D. . • 4'* !{ll I . v\ i It » !l nil IM.RSf)NS l\ Tin; SIT.NK ^'I! rOKIA C"()|.f)\\.\ Micm i,\\(;i.i,(> Two Ladies ;/.^CJi:, r DArdMTiRs OF nww lor VITTORIA COLON \ A pROIIK.l.'r. When rash Columbus sriiknl into the \\\st I (»lIo\viii^ the sun h. \«»ml the unknown sim-. Ami hcMchid his prows upon .1 lair New WorKl. Another reahn wn'; rlslnj; from fii.- deeps Of troubled faith ami rne«Iiaval nii^ht. In the ^lad niornin^ of tlie Renaissance, After lo <^ sleep, the holy spirit of man \\V(tke once more to learI!in^^ freedom, art. Out ol ilecrcpit creeds belief arose I o seek more seemly ;j;arments iov [!ie soul. Erasmus, Luther, Raphael and the rest. Would build a^ain in the ^un of natural ioy Ihe House of Life long mouldering in t!ie shade. And who now should the master builder be, But the fiery seraph, Michelangelo? Music 102 DAUGHTERS OF DAWN Chorus Who stands in the sun By the dark cypress wall, In scarlet and dun, Where the autumn leaves fall, — In a halo of shining hair, like a missal saint aureoled? J ■, , i ^r T • I Is she empress or queen, With that confident heart, And her robes' silken sheen As they flutter and part? What wrong would not right in her presence? What eye could its homage withhold? Her rare jewels glance, Her linked girdle slips, With each turn of the dance To flash and eclipse, As she moves through an eloquent measure, with an old Latin song on her lips. Her eyes have the light Of the knowledge of truth. "^^m^^ DAUGHTERS OF DAWN 103 As ancient as night, As guileless as youth, And glad as the rose-lidded morning new-risen, yet centuries old. What gift could Time bring To Learning's Re-hirth, As welcome as spring When it visits the earth? One flower, Vittoria Colonna, red Illy with deep heart of gold! A scchtdcd part of the gardens of the Co- lonna Palace in Rome, a square of smooth green turf surrounded hy a lull dipped express hedge. There is a flat marble beneh at the hack, and a bushy golden-lipped cedar, about three feet high, in each corner of the enclosure. There is only one entrance through the hedge, at the left, guarded on either side by txio ter- mini, antique marble posts ziith sculptured heads, a Pan on the left, a Hermes on the right. As the curtain rises Vittoria Coi.oxna is discovered, moving through a slovo ballade, and singing a Medi<rval Latin student song as an accompaniment. Tko companions, or scrv- .'liJc^^ Mii »t I I! I iPiiMi 104 DAUGurr.RS OF n.wvx ///</ liomcn, stand by, an apprccialivc audience of her performance. SoxG When the pear tree comes in flower, Cold and grief are gone away, Love and gladness have their hour. Jmor v'lncit omnia! When the leaves begin to fall, Youth and spring have had their day, Why should lovers fear at all? Amor vincit omnia/ As she begins the second stanza, a man's voice is heard outside joining in the song. The ivomen smile, as if not surprised, and presently there enters one idio is evidently a zcehome and accustomed guest of the house. It is Mlc'iiKLANGELO. As hc comes in, ziithout in- terrupting the dance, he S7niles and bozvs in courteous nunk-stilted salutation, and takes his stand by the Hermes until the stanza is fin- ished. Then he advances, and as he takes ViT- TORIA Colonna's hand, leads her to the bencii. mmmm mmmmmmmmmmsmmmm mrmmmm i)\i(;ni [Ks OF irwvN' lOi She sits at one end of the seat, idiile he remains standing near the other. The i^aitimj ziomen retire. It is afternoon of a warm, still day in autumn. VlTTORIA COLONNA Did they dance such things in Florence, In that Mediccan garden, Where magnificent Lorenzo Crowned your toil with praise or pardon? When that young faun's head you fashioned Was his voice enough to fire you? Were thtrt not within the cloister Other accents to inspire you? a Buonarroti, how this New Life, Just as every hope seemed ended, Breaking on us like a vision. Makes the old more rich and splendid! — As, how oftei. ..L the casement I have watched through storm and thunder. Till at last the sudden rain ceased And the sun showed Rome in wonder! ^mmm !^*«*-t^ I": ii t M I: : io6 PAUGIITERS OF DAWN II So when all our age seemed darkest, Faith extinguished, culture perished. Comes a Renaissance of Knowledge, Freeing all the dreams wc cherished. All the lore of buried Hellas Brought to light for our illuming! On old altars reared to Beauty Burn once more the fires consuming! Who can walk unmoved through Florence, W; .re each corner shows a palace? Wl but must learn adoration From the chasing on the chalice? Who could meanly live, with Dante Ringing through his soul's dim portals? Or be sad where Lippo Lippi Paints the teeming life of mortals. What if here, as once in Athens, Women now should lift the story Of our race from prose to epic, With new freedom, grace, and glory! We should walk the world like morning On the hill-tops dark and olden, When the sombre peaks of purple Glow transfigured fresh and golden; Vj.... | /^L^. 1 1 ig n.MCIITI-RS OF DAWN 107 Sane and lofty as Athene, Yet with huighter, tire, and daring; And deep-bosomed as Demeter When she had the earth in raring. So shall time's victorious children Reach the height and pass the portal Of that majesty of oeauty Thou hast imaged — more than mortal. All t!iy life long, Michelangel, Thou hast fought the dull and downward,- Followed only where truth pointed. While the many trailed rcnownward. Where great arches lift to heaven The dumb heart of the observer, Caught in color, pressed in marble, Live thy dreams, thy faith, thy fervor. All that thou hast wrought of beauty. Framed or fashioned, in the hour Of God's counsel, stands forever To uplift this world with power. Strong old prophets, wise young princes, Moses, David, dear Madonna, All in thy great heart have portion. What am I to thee? <-«'jt io8 DAUr.HTKRS OK HAWX II H il MiClItLANGELO Colonnal Never that note of despairing sadness, Of human tears and sublime regret! Keep ever thy voice of seraph's gladness, Lest time should lose and the world forget 'Ihe image of joy no man can measure, — Transcending nature, surpassing art, — The eternal dream, the immortal treasure, The flower that blows in a woman's heart ! ■t; 'J IV. it^ II Here stand we, while the great sky arches Blue over Rome, triumphal, sheer; And Autumn with banner and vestment marches In festal pomp for the dying year. What is this earth but a minster old Ti.e wind like a crowding organ fills. Where the sun swings up like a censer of gold Before the high altar of the hills? . . . Suppose from out of the world somewhere Into a great dim church should stray An untaught urchin, unaware BK8-"«BSBrTB? n.\r<;iM IKS or- nwvx 109 Whose house it is, what it means to pray; He wanders on where the soarinjr nave Goes up ami up, ami the soft h^^ht falls, Where faded colors are inarshalleil brave, Row on row o'er the choir stalls. The marble knights that sleep so still, The saints that stand in their carven screen. The gargoyles each with a different thrill, — What do the manifold marvels mean? And ever as the wonder grows. Assurance and daring begin to fail, Until where the great east window glows, He halts abashed by the chancel rail. I And there before the altar stands, To steady the faint heart's come-and-go, An angel with lily-laden hands, Smiling down on the boy below. I was that venturesome child, and thou — W^ho buL the angel great and fair, W^ith the all-seeing eyes, the unanxious brow, The curved sweet mouth, and the luminous hair! Sffi^^SS...!, ■ A'-.JlSii'i <mm f-'^m: • M* rmii^m^-^^itsxjvf-:'* 11 : I ) 4' if; III If I! It 'Ij li't no nATTGIITF.RS OF DAWN' As all of a sudden the worKl will ^\o\v In the first brij^ht single shaft of dawn, Or the wonder of a painting grow When the scaffold is down and the screen with- drawn, I caught at last the soul of design. The might of color, the reason of form, The magic of rhythm and melting line, When you moved like music alive and warm. T saw where enchanted Beauty slept. Like the Fairy Princess, in color and stone, Till forth at the prayer of my hand she leapt Into a kingdom long her own. Onward I blundered, with heart uplift, To prove, — the only faith I knew, — That mould of body reveals soul's drift. I dreamed ...j uieams, and lo, they ure true! Therefore, I say, regret no morel Shall the strong man grieve for his callow prime. When autumn and triumph are at the door, And labor and love are lords of time? DAUGirn.RS OF n\WN' 1 1 1 Thou art the April of An^clo, — Thine iintaniishcil siiiiks, thy generous tears! What does the lieavenly lihic know Of the fallinjj; leaves and the flyin<f years? This evergreen with golden tiji! He that our cmhleni treasured fast, As if to remind us, finger on lip, Kndure and essay! Truth wins at last! When the earth is juilgcd of good and ill, And men at the Mercy Seat shall stand, As I love you now, I shall love vou still. Great heart, in homage I kiss your hand! Js lie hends over one hand, VlTTORi \ Co- LOXNA lays the other, half playfully, half affec- tionately, on his head, and, as he rises, leads him through a figure of her ballade, 'njhile they sing together a final stanza of her song. SoxG Let the winter come with snow. Iron ground and skies of grey, — What to high hearts, whether or no? Amor vincit omnia! w ' \ ilf II > i ?. il ' 'I I 12 DATTGirrr-Rs of dawn frith the coticluding passage of the dance, they go out through the high hedge hand in hand, and the singing fades in the dist:'nce. Curtain and Music 1 ■ Ji.,^:^ * mi-%,. K -l.ai. ' .,l.^^.,.^.^iti.J.A...... EPILOGUE AND CLOSING CHORUS l;( ii 1 ' PERSONS IN THE EPILOGUE AND CLOSING ClIOKUS Time A Poet Modern Woman i ■M PArcii 1 1 k*; or PAWN' ii<; i:i'ii,o(.i'r: Vc have hchcKl in art's tiMiispoiiinp; glass Sonic portion of the pajfcanuy "f lime Moving across i .c vast static of the worlJ, Ami riKirkcd in power ami in b.auty there Woiulrous earth womci! with the j^ift of lil.' Indomitable chiKlren of tlie liirjit, Impassioned with iii^:' thenu . of t liless )od, They bore the subtle and iminort 1 ho^ c. — The magic seed that should transmute th s earth Into a paradise where gods might dwell. Look forth upon tiic modern world and see The same great beiri; passionate and fair, Charged with her m \'St!C wisdtun as of old, Still championing he sorcery of love And the ecstatic progress of the Soul! Miiiic ■I'- ii6 DAUGHTERS OF PAWM -.1 » ^'! V If 11 is: Js the curtain rises for the closintj chorus Modern Womax is seen standing in the foreground, luith a shadoziy multitude be- hind her, in which the figures of ViTTORlA CoLONNA, Jeanne d'Arc, Zenobia, Mary, IzEYL, Sappho, Balkis, Deborah, and Eve can be distinguished. CLOSING CHORUS Who is here through the hush Of the infinite past, With the confident gush Of spring come at last, As youth must arise from all sorrow to share in the triumph of earth? In her hair the gold light Of the sun when day dies, And the violet night In her dusk-lidded eyes. With the freshness of dew in her bearing, and morn in her stature and girth! Her throat is unlaced, Her foot is soft-shod; m DAUGHTKRS OF DAWN 117 She is glad and free-paced As the creatures of God; Her way is the path to perfection her sisters of morning have trod. With the ardor of Eve xVnd Zenobia's pride, She is quick to believe, With soul for her guide; She could go forth with Barak to battle, or grace Julian's corselet of mail. Was Sappho more tender, Colonna more wise? Does Mary not lend her Great motherhood's guise? She is soft with the beauty of Balkis, sublime with the love of Izeyl. With solace and fire. With dawn in her voice. She lives to Inspire, Companion, rejoice, — A presence of radiant devotion, a spirit of luminous choice. ■Mj,.- i-w^i aesxaxti^'wr^L » > H 4 1 ii 'ir ii8 DArCIITF.RS OF DAWN Have ye felt the heart quail And uplift and hold fast, At the swell of the sail As it pulls on the mast? Even so must the sway of her being empower the world to the last. ii III !■ Curtain and Music < I ! ; ( s *a»T>E«LT«*;:<Hs;?i- 1 r -'aaat