{"id":1730,"date":"2013-07-13T01:36:47","date_gmt":"2013-07-13T01:36:47","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/localhost\/?p=1730"},"modified":"2013-07-13T01:36:47","modified_gmt":"2013-07-13T01:36:47","slug":"07-the-witch-of-ilni-act-i-vol-03-04-collected-plays-and-stories","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/01-works-of-sri-aurobindo\/03-cwsa\/03-04-collected-plays-and-stories\/07-the-witch-of-ilni-act-i-vol-03-04-collected-plays-and-stories","title":{"rendered":"-07_The Witch of Ilni- Act – I.htm"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n\n\n
\n

 <\/td>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

\nIncomplete and Fragmentary Plays<\/b><\/p>\n

 <\/font><\/p>\n

\n1891 \u00ad 1915<\/b><\/p>\n

\n

<\/font> <\/p>\n

\nThe Witch of Ilni<\/b><\/p>\n

 <\/font><\/p>\n

\nA dream of the woodlands<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

<\/font>
\n <\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nCharacters<\/b><\/p>\n

 <\/font><\/p>\n

CORILLO<\/font>, prince of Ilni.<\/p>\n

VALENTINE<\/font>, a courtier.<\/p>\n

\n<\/p>\n

MELANDER<\/font>, a sylvan poet.<\/p>\n

FORESTERS<\/font>, COURTIERS<\/font>.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ALACIEL<\/font>, the witch of Ilni.<\/p>\n

GUENDOLEN<\/font>, her sister.<\/p>\n

\n<\/p>\n

GIRLS OF THE FOREST<\/font>.<\/p>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

\nAct I<\/b><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nScene
\n1<\/a><\/b><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

<\/font> <\/p>\n

The woodlands of Ilni.<\/i><\/p>\n

Girls and youths dancing.<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Song<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Under the darkling tree<\/p>\n

Who danceth with thee,<\/p>\n

Sister say?<\/p>\n

His hair is the sweet sunlight,<\/p>\n

His eyes a starry night<\/p>\n

In May.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Under the leaf-wrought screen<\/p>\n

Who crowns thee his queen<\/p>\n

Kissing thee?<\/p>\n

His lips are a ruby bright,<\/p>\n

His cheek the May-bloom’s light<\/p>\n

On the tree.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Under the grass-green bough<\/p>\n

Whom pillowest thou<\/p>\n

On thy breast?<\/p>\n

His voice is a swallow’s flight,<\/p>\n

His limbs are jonquils white<\/p>\n

Dewy-drest.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

IAMBLICHUS<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Unwind the linked rapture of the dance!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n
\nPage \u2013 753<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

For in the purple verge and slope of morn<\/p>\n

Fast-flowering blooms, fire-robed and honey-haired,<\/p>\n

In stainless wastes the daffodil of heaven.<\/p>\n

Here till the golden-handed sun upbuilds<\/p>\n

The morning’s cenotaph blue-domed and vast,<\/p>\n

On daisy-dotted bank where sunlight nods<\/p>\n

We’ll spin a curious weft of lyric tales.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MYRTIL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Be it so. But what occupation stays<\/p>\n

Our deftest in the jewelry of rhymes,<\/p>\n

Our liberal dispenser of sweet words,<\/p>\n

Our laureate with the throstle in his throat?<\/p>\n

Sleeps he so long? who saw Melander last,<\/p>\n

Melander ashbud-browed with April hair?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ERMENILD<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Before the russet-hooded morn gave birth<\/p>\n

In Day’s embraces to the fire-eyed sun<\/p>\n

I spied him nigh a mossy-mantled cave<\/p>\n

Which rosy trailers draped, and at his side<\/p>\n

The silver-seeming witch Alaciel.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MYRTIL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Pray God, the black-haired witch may do no harm!<\/p>\n

She is most potent and her science plucks<\/p>\n

The ruby nightshade, Hecate’s deadly plum,<\/p>\n

Soul-killing meadow-sweet, the hemlock starred<\/p>\n

And berries brown crushed in the vats of death,<\/p>\n

Her mother’s hell-brewed legacy of arts.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MARCION<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Were it not wisely done to call him hither?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

IAMBLICHUS<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

‘Tis wisely urged, good Marcion. Make good haste<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n


\nPage \u2013 754<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

And drench thy words in Hybla’s golden milk<\/p>\n

To lure him thence.<\/p>\n

Exit Marcion.<\/i><\/p>\n

But you with dance and song<\/p>\n

Beguile the laggard moments into joy.<\/p>\n


\nPage \u2013 755<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

\nScene
\n2<\/a><\/b><\/p>\n

 <\/font><\/p>\n

A glade in the woodlands.<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ALACIEL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Why wilt thou go? Noon has not budded, sweet.<\/p>\n

Fresh-fallen dew stars yet the silvered grass,<\/p>\n

The leaves are lyrical with lisp of birds<\/p>\n

And piping voices flutter thro’ the grove.<\/p>\n

Repose thyself where blue-eyed violet<\/p>\n

Is married to that bugle of pale gold<\/p>\n

We call the cowslip, and I’ll chain thee here<\/p>\n

With flowery bands of rosebud-linked tales<\/p>\n

Or murmur Orphic falls to draw thy soul<\/p>\n

Upon the smoother wings of measured song.<\/p>\n

Noon has not budded, sweet. Why wilt thou go?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MELANDER<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

The sylvan youths expect my lyric touch<\/p>\n

To gild their leisure: nor am I so bold<\/p>\n

To linger by thy snowy side too long<\/p>\n

Whom men call perilous. Oh thou art fair!<\/p>\n

Dawn reddens in thy vermil-tinted cheeks<\/p>\n

And on thy tresses pansy-purple night<\/p>\n

Hangs balsam-drenched with dewdrops for her stars.<\/p>\n

Thou art a flower with candid petals wide,<\/p>\n

Moon-flushed, most innocent-seeming to the eye;<\/p>\n

But in thy cup, they say, lurks venomed wine<\/p>\n

Which whoso sucks, pale Hades on him lays<\/p>\n

Ensnaring arms to drag from the sweet sun.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ALACIEL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Whom will not Envy’s livid tooth assail?<\/p>\n


\nPage \u2013 756<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

‘Tis true my wisdom dwarfs their ignorance;<\/p>\n

That is most true: for in my fledgeling days<\/p>\n

When callow childhood loved the rushy nest,<\/p>\n

My mother drew my steps thro’ fretted walks,<\/p>\n

Rose-rubied gardens, acorn-pelted glades,<\/p>\n

Green seas of pasture, rural sweeps of bloom,<\/p>\n

And taught the florid sensuous dialect<\/p>\n

Of simple plants. This way I learned to love<\/p>\n

The shining sisterhood of rhythmic names,<\/p>\n

Roses and lilies, honey-hiding thyme,<\/p>\n

Pied
\ngillyflowers, painted wind-blossoms,<\/p>\n

Gold crocus, milky bell, sweet marjoram,<\/p>\n

Fire-coloured furze and wayside honey-suckle.<\/p>\n

Nor these alone, but all the helpful plants<\/p>\n

Gave me the liquid essence of their souls<\/p>\n

Potent to help or hurt, to cure or kill.<\/p>\n

Indeed the milky juice of pungent roots<\/p>\n

I poured you in that curious walnut cup<\/p>\n

With moderation just, were in excess<\/p>\n

More deadly than the hemlock’s dooming wine.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MELANDER<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

It fused new blood into my pulsing veins<\/p>\n

Raising me twice the stature of a soul.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ALACIEL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

‘Tis margarite, the rare and pungent root,<\/p>\n

That brewed this foamy vintage in his wand.<\/p>\n

For twixt the bulb and pithy texture wrapt<\/p>\n

You find a pod nut-form with misty skin,<\/p>\n

In size no bigger than the early grape<\/p>\n

But full and sweet with honey-tempered wine.<\/p>\n

Such are my potions, philtres, poisons, drugs,<\/p>\n

Distempered brews, and all the juggling arts<\/p>\n

Your ignorance rebukes my wisdom with.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n


\nPage \u2013 757<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

MELANDER<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

From such sweet lips when poppied utterance falls,<\/p>\n

The carping spirit of disdain must sleep;<\/p>\n

For subtler logic drops in simple words<\/p>\n

From woman’s tongue, than phraseful orator<\/p>\n

Or fine scholastic wit may offer up.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ALACIEL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Sweet youth, why should I net you with deceit?<\/p>\n

Ah yet, in truth you are too beautiful!<\/p>\n

Come, you are skilled in phrases, are you not?<\/p>\n

You dice with women’s hearts
\n\u2014 they tell me ’tis<\/p>\n

A pastime much in vogue with idle youths.<\/p>\n

(The philtre works: his eyelids brim with dew.)<\/p>\n

You throw cogged dice with women for their souls,<\/p>\n

You barter with them and deny the price,<\/p>\n

Is it not so? (O rare, fine margarite!)<\/p>\n

Oh you are deft at such deceits: you make<\/p>\n

Your beauty lime to cozen linnets with<\/p>\n

And bid them sing, if they’d have sustenance.<\/p>\n

Oh you will not deceive me, think it not:<\/p>\n

You are just such a fowler to my guess.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MELANDER<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Dear linnet, did I lime you in my nets,<\/p>\n

One fine, sweet Hamadryad note would lift<\/p>\n

The tangle from your wild-rose-petal wings.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ALACIEL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Ah but when lurking faces flower the bush<\/p>\n

Wild birds mock expectation with wild wings.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MELANDER<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Nay, dear, you shall not go: I have you fast.<\/p>\n

Come, where’s your ransom? the sweet, single note<\/p>\n

I bargained for, ere you may climb the winds?<\/p>\n

Prune not your fluttering wings: I have you fast.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n


\nPage \u2013 758<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

ALACIEL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

I pray you, make not earnest of my jest.<\/p>\n

You are too quick: you shall not have a stiver,<\/p>\n

No, not a coin to bless repentance with.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MELANDER<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Then I will pay myself, sweet: from that warm<\/p>\n

And flowering bed of kisses, I will pluck<\/p>\n

Fresh with the dews of youth one red sweet rose.<\/p>\n

(kisses her<\/i>)<\/p>\n

Oh I have sucked out poison from your lips!<\/p>\n

Physicians say that certain maladies<\/p>\n

Are by their generating causes killed.<\/p>\n

Sweet poison, one more drop to cure the last.<\/p>\n

(kisses her<\/i>)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ALACIEL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

You shall pluck no more roses from my tree.<\/p>\n

Unclasp me now or you will anger me.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MELANDER<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Dear, be not angry. I did but accept<\/p>\n

The written challenge peeping thro’ the lids<\/p>\n

Of those delicious eyes: O shy soft eyes,<\/p>\n

Hiding with jetty fringes such a world<\/p>\n

Of swimming beauty, virgin-sweet desire,<\/p>\n

You shine like stars upon the rim of night,<\/p>\n

Like dewdrops thro’ green leaves, mute orators<\/p>\n

Instinct with dropping eloquence to sway<\/p>\n

The burning heart of boyhood to your will.<\/p>\n

If I look on you long, you will seduce<\/p>\n

My acts from virtue; which to anticipate<\/p>\n

I’ll kill you both with kisses, thus, and thus.<\/p>\n

Sweet, do not blush. I claim what is my own,<\/p>\n

And with my lips I seal your whole self mine<\/p>\n

From dear, dark head to dainty wild-rose feet.<\/p>\n

Or, if you will, in sanguine tumult show<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n


\nPage \u2013 759<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

The throbbing conscience of a lover’s touch,<\/p>\n

That I may watch a sea of springing rose<\/p>\n

Diffuse its gorgeous triumph in your cheeks.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ALACIEL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Oh you have golden pieces on your tongue<\/p>\n

To buy your pleasure: yet this single once<\/p>\n

I’ll be your fool. Come, throw me clinking coin,<\/p>\n

The thin flute-music of your flatteries.<\/p>\n

You shall have favours if you pay for them.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MELANDER<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

His lips should dribble honey, who’d make out<\/p>\n

The style and inventory of your graces.<\/p>\n

His voice should be the fifing of mild winds<\/p>\n

To happy song of bees in rose-red June,<\/p>\n

His every word a crimson-tasselled rose,<\/p>\n

His lightest phrase a strip of cedar-wood,<\/p>\n

Each clause a nutmeg-peppered jug of cream;<\/p>\n

The very stops should argue aloes fetched<\/p>\n

By spiced winds upon the rocking brine.<\/p>\n

What, have I earned my wage? I am athirst<\/p>\n

With praising you. Give me your lips to drink.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ALACIEL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

You trifle, sweet. Yours is no mint of coin<\/p>\n

But scribbled paper-specie large as wind<\/p>\n

Which I’ll not take. Here comes your paedagogue<\/p>\n

To school you into more sobriety.<\/p>\n

Alaciel retires. Enter Marcion.<\/i><\/p>\n

MARCION<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Well met, Melander. Long thro’ mossy paths<\/p>\n

Have I with patient footing peered thee out,<\/p>\n

Thro’ shadow-sundered slopes of racing light,<\/p>\n

In ferny pales with blots of colour pricked<\/p>\n

And by the rushy marge of spuming streams<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n


\nPage \u2013 760<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

Till lucky hazard made the Venus throw.<\/p>\n

Why art thou here? On leafy-sheltered sward<\/p>\n

Where daubs of sunlight intersperse the shade,<\/p>\n

The rubious posies thrill to mazy feet<\/p>\n

Like stars danced over by an angel’s tread<\/p>\n

And strive with glimmering corollaries<\/p>\n

To make a twinkling heaven of the green.<\/p>\n

Moist blow the breezes with the myrrhy tears<\/p>\n

Of pining night, and ruffle every blade<\/p>\n

That keeps his pearls from clutch of dewy thieves<\/p>\n

Until their indignation murmur past.<\/p>\n

From airy flute, from seraph-stringed harp,<\/p>\n

A daedal rain of music drop on drop<\/p>\n

Wells fast to rule the waft of dove-like feet.<\/p>\n

The clustered edges of close-heaped thyme,<\/p>\n

A murmurous haven sailed by merchant bees,<\/p>\n

Are crumbling into fragrance and young flowers<\/p>\n

Make fat by their decay the greedy earth,<\/p>\n

While golden youths and silver feet of girls<\/p>\n

Pass fluttering as with glimpse of gorgeous hues<\/p>\n

A fleet of moths on emigrating winds.<\/p>\n

There you shall see upon the pearled grass<\/p>\n

The forest antelope, brown Ermenild,<\/p>\n

Iamblichus the honey-hearted boy,<\/p>\n

Rose-cheeked Iamblichus with roses wreathed,<\/p>\n

And Myrtil honey-haired, our woodland moon,<\/p>\n

Myrtil the white, a silver loveliness,<\/p>\n

But tipped with gold. Thou only lingerest;<\/p>\n

Only thy voice, the pilot of our moods,<\/p>\n

Only thy thrushlips welling facile rhymes<\/p>\n

Mar the sweet harmonies of holiday<\/p>\n

With one chord missing from the clamorous harp.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MELANDER<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

I thank you, Marcion, for your careful pain<\/p>\n

But cannot guerdon you with more than thanks.<\/p>\n

I am not well: the fumes of midnight thought<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n


\nPage \u2013 761<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

Unfit me for a holiday attire.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MARCION<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Fie, fie, Melander! When have you before<\/p>\n

Denied the riches of your tongue to eke<\/p>\n

Our poorness with? The forest waits for you<\/p>\n

Dew-drenched with tears because you will not come.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MELANDER<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Well, I will go with you, but not for long.<\/p>\n

I’ll join you where deep-cushioned in soft grass<\/p>\n

The stream turns inward like a scimitar.<\/p>\n

Go on before, I pray you. I will come.<\/p>\n

Exit Marcion.<\/i><\/p>\n

ALACIEL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

There, there, I said so! you are docile, sir.<\/p>\n

Indeed I did not spy the leading-strings,<\/p>\n

But they must be there. ‘Twas your paedagogue,<\/p>\n

Was it not, come to fetch the truant back?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MELANDER<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Dear, be not vexed with me. I will return<\/p>\n

Ere noon has dotted with her golden ball<\/p>\n

The eminence of heaven. It seems not well,<\/p>\n

When judgment has decreed the award of merit,<\/p>\n

To disappoint Persuasion of her prize.<\/p>\n

In sweetly-cultured minds civility<\/p>\n

Breathes music to the touch of wooing words.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ALACIEL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Oh words and words enough! but what’s the gist,<\/p>\n

The run, the purport? Tush, a chattering pie,<\/p>\n

A pie that steals and chatters, would not deign<\/p>\n

To jeer this flaunting daw. What, did he deem<\/p>\n

His gaudy colony of phrases roofed<\/p>\n

The meaning from my eyes? The prosing fool<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n


\nPage \u2013 762<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

Fibs very vilely: why, he has not conned<\/p>\n

The rudiments and letters of his craft.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MELANDER<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

You do miscall sincerest courtesy,<\/p>\n

Sweet courtesy that solders our conditions<\/p>\n

Into the builded structure of a state.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ALACIEL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Yes, till the winds unbuild it for worse ruin.<\/p>\n

But go your way. I’ll know you as a man<\/p>\n

That honeys leisure with a lovely face<\/p>\n

And coins sweet perjuries to make the hearts<\/p>\n

Of women bankrupt. No defence, I pray you.<\/p>\n

I’ll have no slices of your company.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MELANDER<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Leave wrangling, sweet, and tell me soft and kind,<\/p>\n

Where shall I see you next? I may not tarry.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ALACIEL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Why nowhere: for I’ll not receive you, sir.<\/p>\n

But if you love a door shut in your face<\/p>\n

Come to my cottage on the forest’s hem<\/p>\n

Where rarer thickets melt into the plain.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

MELANDER<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

Thither I will outstrip the climbing noon.<\/p>\n

For this one tedious hour, dear love, farewell.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ALACIEL<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

I pray you, sweet, do not break promise with me,<\/p>\n

For that will kill me. I will think of you<\/p>\n

And comfort solitude with sighs and tears<\/p>\n

Until you dawn afresh, a noontide star.<\/p>\n

Exeunt.<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n


\nPage \u2013 600<\/p>\n

<\/font>
\n<\/font><\/span><\/td>\n

\n

 <\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n<\/div>\n

<\/span><\/a><\/font><\/b><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

  Incomplete and Fragmentary Plays   1891 \u00ad 1915 The Witch of Ilni   A dream of the woodlands   Characters   CORILLO, prince of…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[39],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1730","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-03-04-collected-plays-and-stories","wpcat-39-id"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1730","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1730"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1730\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1730"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1730"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1730"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}