All now grows to a wild fantastic dance with waving of hands and arms, and metrical stamping of the feet at the ending of the verses.
Ours to unravel
Sorrow and joy,
Swiftly we travel,
Swiftly destroy;
Look! for the light is alive on the ground
And the truth, and the myth, and the metal we touch, is it sound, is it sound?
Ho Jack-o-Lantern
Hovering nigh!
Hail Jack-o-Lantern
Up in the sky!
Up in the sky or threading the earth;
In the death and decay and despair that we bring, we bring birth, we bring birth!
Birth in the mildew,
Birth in the mire,
All that has filled you
With impotent ire,
All that shall stand for the rage we inflame,
The new life engendered in failure and death and destruction and shame.
Ho Jack-o-Lantern,
Glittering and blue!
Hail Jack-o-Lantern,
Glimmering through!
Through from the far, the impossible goal,
That mocks as it lures and affrights & dismays—if there is one—the soul.
Everything passes,
Everything flows,
Shrivel the grasses,
Withers the rose,
Withers the rose as it colours the tree,
And the sense of its loveliness only survives as it ceases to be.
The song gradually dies out in a tripping movement, and the Imps end the song with a ripple of mocking laughter, dancing out as they go, but still following the light unapproachable, and so the scene closes.
THE SECOND SCENE.
THE PASSING OF THE EDWARDS.
The curtains open and reveal a scene simply painted in allegory, of London and Westminster, conceived in grey and gold, and in such rendering as the Italian architects of the early renaissance time were wont to draw their work, a curtain of symbolic buildings, shown neither structurally nor in perspective, but yet so shown that they shall seek to display the soul & spirit of all building. And on this curtain there shall be pictured in suggestion, the Tower of London with the old Bridge of Peter of Colechurch, the Abbey of Westminster, old and new St. Paul's, St. Saviour's Southwark; St. Mary le Bow of Wren; Whitehall of Inigo Jones; Somerset House with Waterloo Bridge; the Charterhouse of Eveleigh; the Christ's Hospital of the blue coat boys, and old Temple Bar.
The Prolocutor steps into his place, music playing the while, when there shall slowly enter, one following the other, the Edwards of England, that is to say Edward the Confessor up to Edward the VI., each attended with such characters in the Masque as may seem fit. They shall pass across the inner scene, and as each passes in order, the Prolocutor shall rehearse the stories here written. At the close of each story there shall be music, and each following king shall enter to the sound of a horn or trumpet.
Enters first Edward the Confessor: he is clad as for the crowning.
THE PROLOCUTOR.
This king came just as the island kingdom bad risen into life from the sea. He was the last of the Edwards yet not the last, the first of the Edwards yet not the first, & men called him the Confessor, for that he was holy and they loved him. He had hair like yellow flame, and long fingers smooth as the almond, and his countenance shone with a light that was not of this earth. There were legends and sweet tales about him & the cures were many that he wrought, for it was he who carried the Irish beggar on his back to the high altar, that God's miracle might be worked in the face of all men. But the greatest of his gifts to the people whom he loved, was his gift of the Abbey of Westminster on Thorney Island. There should be a great offering made to the Lord, & founded unto all time, so he chose for this offering a spot blessed with many blessings.
A fisherman was once casting his net for salmon at Lambeth, the hythe of the lambs, his luck was against him & he caught nought; & as be watched and waited, dour of mind, an ancient beckoned to him from the bank. "Friend," said be, "take me into thy craft and carry me over to Thorney Eye." And the fisherman obeyed him. Now when they had crossed the stream, the ancient said unto him, "Wait here to carry me back, & whatsoever thou seest treasure it in thy heart." And the fisherman marvelled, waiting. Then of a sudden the heavens opened with a great light, and a ladder of angels came from the sky, & the lower end of the ladder was set upon the little Church in Thorney, and before the door of it stood the ancient. And lo, it was St. Peter himself, and he crossed seven crosses on the door, blessing the church that was to be founded in his name. The fisherman fell upon his knees and prayed, and when the saint came back he trembled before him. But St. Peter spake kindly unto him and said, "Friend, thou hast seen a great sign that shall live into the ages to come. Now carry me back to Lambeth and cast thy net once more into the flood, & from the great haul that thou shalt make, bring of the first fruits thereof to the King and tell him that I, Peter, have blessed my own minster, and blessed it shall remain as long as the English folk be true to it." Then the little craft shot back as a moving flame on the water to Lambeth and it was even as the saint had told.
Mark him this king, a dreamer, a seer of visions, a teller of symbols. For in the early world these things have need, these things have reason, they are as the mother tales told at the cradle of the race. Learn ye to dream and pray when ye are young, and ye shall learn to do mightily when
