THE MASQUE OF PANDORA

N

I.

THE WORKSHOP OF HEPHÆSTUS.

HEPHÆSTUS, standing before the statue of Pandora.

OT fashioned out of gold, like Hera's throne,

Nor forged of iron like the thunderbolts

Of Zeus omnipotent, or other works

Wrought by my hands at Lemnos or Olympus,
But moulded in soft clay, that unresisting
Yields itself to the touch, this lovely form
Before me stands perfect in every part.
Not Aphrodite's self appeared more fair,
When first upwafted by caressing winds
She came to high Olympus, and the gods
Paid homage to her beauty. Thus her hair
Was cinctured; thus her floating drapery
Was like a cloud about her, and her face
Was radiant with the sunshine and the sea.

THE VOICE OF ZEUS.

Is thy work done, Hephaestus?

HEPHÆSTUS.

It is finished!

THE VOICE.

Not finished till I breathe the breath of life
Into her nostrils, and she moves and speaks.

HEPHÆSTUS.

Will she become immortal like ourselves?

THE VOICE.

The form that thou hast fashioned out of clay
Is of the earth and mortal; but the spirit,
The life, the exhalation of my breath,

Is of diviner essence and immortal.

The gods shall shower on her their benefactions,
She shall possess all gifts: the gift of song,
The gift of eloquence, the gift of beauty,
The fascination and the nameless charm
That shall lead all men captive.

HEPHÆSTUS.

Wherefore? wherefore?

A wind shakes the house.

I hear the rushing of a mighty wind

Through all the halls and chambers of my house!
Her parted lips inhale it, and her bosom
Heaves with the inspiration. As a reed
Beside a river in the rippling current

Bends to and fro, she bows or lifts her head.

She gazes round about as if amazed;

She is alive; she breathes, but yet she speaks not!

Pandora descends from the pedestal.

CHORUS OF THE GRACES.

AGLAIA.

In the workshop of Hephaestus

What is this I see?

Have the Gods to four increased us

Who were only three?

Beautiful in form and feature,

Lovely as the day,

Can there be so fair a creature
Formed of common clay?

THALIA.

O sweet, pale face! O lovely eyes of azure,
Clear as the waters of a brook that run
Limpid and laughing in the summer sun!
O golden hair that like a miser's treasure
In its abundance overflows the measure!

O graceful form, that cloudlike floatest on
With the soft, undulating gait of one

Who moveth as if motion were a pleasure!
By what name shall I call thee? Nymph or Muse,
Callirrhoë or Urania? Some sweet name

Whose every syllable is a caress

Would best befit thee; but I cannot choose,

Nor do I care to choose; for still the same, Nameless or named, will be thy loveliness.

EUPHROSYNE

Dowered with all celestial gifts,
Skilled in every art

That ennobles and uplifts

And delights the heart,
Fair on earth shall be thy fame
As thy face is fair,

And Pandora be the name

Thou henceforth shalt bear.

II.

OLYMPUS.

HERMES, putting on his sandals.

MUCH must he toil who serves the Immortal Gods,
And I, who am their herald, most of all.
No rest have I, nor respite. I no sooner
Unclasp the winged sandals from my feet,
Than I again must clasp them, and depart
Upon some foolish errand. But to-day

The errand is not foolish.

Never yet

With greater joy did I obey the summons
That sends me earthward. I will fly so swiftly
That my caduceus in the whistling air

Shall make a sound like the Pandaan pipes,
Cheating the shepherds; for to-day I go,
Commissioned by high-thundering Zeus, to lead
A maiden to Prometheus, in his tower,
And by my cunning arguments persuade him
To marry her. What mischief lies concealed
In this design I know not; but I know
Who thinks of marrying hath already taken
One step upon the road to penitence.
Such embassies delight me. Forth I launch
On the sustaining air, nor fear to fall
Like Icarus, nor swerve aside like him