Daughter of Jorio, The - Act 2, Scene 1
ACT II
A mountain cavern partly furnished with boards, brushwood, and straw, with a wide opening toward a stony path. Through the cave's great mouth are seen green pastures, snowy peaks, wandering clouds. There are couches of sheepskins, tables of rough wood, wallets and wine skins, full and empty. There is a turner's lathe for turning and carving, with hatchet, plane, knife, file and other instruments, and near by finished objects: distaffs, spindles, ladles, spoons, mortars and pestles, shepherds' pipes, whistles, candlesticks. There is a block of walnut wood that at bottom still appears formless, incased in its bark, but above shows the figure of an angel roughly hewn out with the chisel, down to the waist, and with the wings almost finished. An olive-oil lamp is burning before the image of Our Lady in a hollow of the rock as in a niche. A shepherd's pipe hangs near. Sheep bells are heard in the silence of the mountain. It is late afternoon of a day in early autumn.
Scene 1
Malde, the treasure-seeker, and Anna Onna, the old herb-woman, stretched out in their rags, are asleep on the sheepskins. Cosma, the saint, dressed in a coat of skin, sleeps also, but seated, with his chin resting on his clasped knees. Aligi is sitting on a bench, engaged in carving with his tools the block of walnut wood. Mila di Codra sits opposite him, looking at him.
Mila:
Oh, he was mute, the Saint
Carved of the walnut tree;
Deaf was the holy wood,
Sant' Onofrio naught said he.
But then the maiden spoke
(Miserere Domine).
But then the beauty spoke:
" Here is my heart, " said she.
" If he will have blood for his cure,
Take my heart's blood of me;
But cover the secret sure,
Let him never, never see. "
And, sudden, a shoot is seen
Between the wooden lips,
Then Sant' Onofrio grows green
At all his finger tips.
She stoops to pick up shavings and splinters.
Aligi:
Mila, this, too, is wood of the walnut tree.
Will it grow green, Mila, grow green again?
Mila, bending down to the ground:
" If he will have blood for his cure,
Take my heart's blood of me " —
Aligi:
Will it grow green, Mila, grow green again?
Mila:
" But cover the secret sure,
Let him never, never see! "
Aligi:
O Mila, let the miracle absolve us!
Let the mute angel here protect us still,
For, carving him, I do not use my tools,
I work but with my soul held in my hand.
What art thou seeking there? What hast thou lost?
Mila:
I gather up the splinters and will burn them,
And with each one a little grain of incense.
Aligi, hasten, hasten, for time passes,
Half-full already is the September moon.
The shepherds already they begin to leave,
Those who go Puglia way, and those for Rome.
And whither will my love, my shepherd, go?
Where he may take his way let there be meadows
And springs of water, and never any wind,
And let him think of me when it grows night!
Aligi:
Mila, Aligi toward Rome will travel.
He will go where they go by all the roads,
Leading his flock toward Rome, toward Rome the Great,
That he may get him pardon from the Vicar,
Forgiveness from the Vicar of Christ Our Lord,
Because he is the Shepherd of the shepherds.
Not to Apulia this year will he journey,
But to Our Lady of the Schiavonia
Send by the hand of Alia of Averna
These candlesticks carved out of cypress wood,
And with them he will send two little candles,
That she may not forget him, though a sinner,
Our Lady who keeps watch upon the shore.
And the Angel, Mila, when it shall be finished,
This Angel he will load upon a mule,
And with him, step by step, will carry it.
Mila:
O hasten, hasten, Aligi, for time passes,
From the girdle down the Angel still is hidden
In the block, and still its two feet are fast bound
In the wood, and still its hands are without fingers,
And the eyes are on the same line with the forehead.
Thou didst linger long making the Angel's wings
Feather by feather, but it cannot fly.
Aligi:
Gostanzo the painter, he will aid me, Mila.
Gostanzo of Bisegna, he who paints
The histories that make our carts so gay.
Already he and I have planned together
How he will give me of his finest colors;
And the brothers, it may be, at the Badia,
For a little lamb will give a bit of gold leaf
To put upon the wings and round the throat.
Mila:
O hasten, hasten, Aligi, for time passes,
Already the night is longer than the day,
And from the plain the shadow rises early,
Early and swiftly when one is not thinking,
So that the eye directs the hand no longer,
And the blind chisel cannot aid thy skill. Cosma stirs in his sleep and moans. Far off is heard the holy chant of the pilgrimage .
Cosma is dreaming, and who knows what he dreams?
Listen, the song of the company of pilgrims,
Who are crossing over the mountain to go down,
Perhaps, to Santa Maria della Potenza,
Aligi, toward thy land, thy land they go;
Toward thine own house there where thy mother dwells;
Perhaps they will pass by at little distance,
And the mother will hear them singing, and Ornella,
Perhaps, and they will say: " Listen, these pilgrims
Are coming down from the cabins of the shepherds,
And never a message has been sent to us! " Aligi is bending down shaping roughly with the hatchet the lower part of the block. He gives one blow and, leaving the iron in the wood, rises anxiously .
Aligi:
Why wilt thou touch the heart where most it hurts?
I will run down and meet them in the roadway,
Mila, and beg the crucifer to carry
A message — but, oh, what, what shall I say?
Mila:
Say to him: " O good crucifer, I pray thee,
If thou pass through the valley of San Biagio,
Through the countryside that they call Acquanova,
Ask for a house, the house there of a woman
Who is called Candia della Leonessa.
Halt there, for thou wilt surely have from her
A bit of food and drink, and it may be
Thou wilt have more. Halt there, and say: " Thy son
Aligi salutes thee, and salutes his sisters
With thee, salutes also his bride, Vienda,
And sends his promise that he will descend,
That he may have thy blessing once again
In peace, before he needs must go away;
And he assures thee that he now is free
From evil and from peril; he is free,
Forever free, from the false enemy;
And never again will he be cause of anger,
And never again be cause of grief and tears
To his mother, to his bride, nor to his sisters." "
Aligi:
O Mila, Mila, what is the wind that beats
Upon thy soul and sways thee? A sudden wind,
A wind of fear. And thy voice is grown faint
Upon thy lips, and all the blood has left
Thy face. Mila, why wouldst thou have me send
A lying message to my mother's house?
Mila:
In truth, in truth, in very truth I speak,
O brother, brother mine, dear to thy sister,
As true as that I never sinned with thee,
But I was as a taper burning ever
Before thy faith, and shining with the light
Of love immaculate, adoring thee.
In truth, in truth, in very truth I speak,
And say: Go, go, run down into the road,
And seek the crucifer, that he may bear
The message of thy peace to Acquanova.
The parting hour has come, the hour has come
For Jorio's daughter, and so let it be.
Aligi:
Surely of the wild honey thou hast eaten,
And all thy mind is vexed. Where wilt thou go?
Mila:
I will go where they go by all the roads.
Aligi:
Ah, come with me then, Mila, come with me!
The way is long, is long, but thee also
I will mount on my mule, and we will go,
We two, with hope, and travel toward great Rome.
Mila:
No, no, I must needs go another way,
Swiftly, on my own feet, and without hope. Aligi turns to the old woman, who sleeps .
Aligi:
Ho, Anna Onna, there! Wake up! Get up!
And go and seek for me black hellebore,
That it may bring this woman's wits again.
Mila:
Do not be angry, Aligi, for if thou art,
Even thou, angry with me, how shall I live
Until the night? From underneath thy heel,
Aligi, I shall not gather up my heart.
Aligi:
To my own house I never will return,
Daughter of Jorio, except with thee,
Mila di Codra, mine by sacrament.
Mila:
Aligi, Aligi, shall I again pass over
That threshold where the cross of wax was laid?
There where a man appeared with bleeding head;
And the man's son spoke there and said to him:
" If that blood is unjust, thou mayst not pass. "
And it was noon, the vigil of the day
Of San Giovanni. It was harvest time.
The sickle now hangs idle on the wall,
The grain lies resting in the granary,
But the pain sown that day is growing still. Cosma stirs, groaning in his sleep .
Aligi:
But dost thou know who will lead thee by the hand?
Cosma, shrieking:
No, do not loose him! do not let him go!
A mountain cavern partly furnished with boards, brushwood, and straw, with a wide opening toward a stony path. Through the cave's great mouth are seen green pastures, snowy peaks, wandering clouds. There are couches of sheepskins, tables of rough wood, wallets and wine skins, full and empty. There is a turner's lathe for turning and carving, with hatchet, plane, knife, file and other instruments, and near by finished objects: distaffs, spindles, ladles, spoons, mortars and pestles, shepherds' pipes, whistles, candlesticks. There is a block of walnut wood that at bottom still appears formless, incased in its bark, but above shows the figure of an angel roughly hewn out with the chisel, down to the waist, and with the wings almost finished. An olive-oil lamp is burning before the image of Our Lady in a hollow of the rock as in a niche. A shepherd's pipe hangs near. Sheep bells are heard in the silence of the mountain. It is late afternoon of a day in early autumn.
Scene 1
Malde, the treasure-seeker, and Anna Onna, the old herb-woman, stretched out in their rags, are asleep on the sheepskins. Cosma, the saint, dressed in a coat of skin, sleeps also, but seated, with his chin resting on his clasped knees. Aligi is sitting on a bench, engaged in carving with his tools the block of walnut wood. Mila di Codra sits opposite him, looking at him.
Mila:
Oh, he was mute, the Saint
Carved of the walnut tree;
Deaf was the holy wood,
Sant' Onofrio naught said he.
But then the maiden spoke
(Miserere Domine).
But then the beauty spoke:
" Here is my heart, " said she.
" If he will have blood for his cure,
Take my heart's blood of me;
But cover the secret sure,
Let him never, never see. "
And, sudden, a shoot is seen
Between the wooden lips,
Then Sant' Onofrio grows green
At all his finger tips.
She stoops to pick up shavings and splinters.
Aligi:
Mila, this, too, is wood of the walnut tree.
Will it grow green, Mila, grow green again?
Mila, bending down to the ground:
" If he will have blood for his cure,
Take my heart's blood of me " —
Aligi:
Will it grow green, Mila, grow green again?
Mila:
" But cover the secret sure,
Let him never, never see! "
Aligi:
O Mila, let the miracle absolve us!
Let the mute angel here protect us still,
For, carving him, I do not use my tools,
I work but with my soul held in my hand.
What art thou seeking there? What hast thou lost?
Mila:
I gather up the splinters and will burn them,
And with each one a little grain of incense.
Aligi, hasten, hasten, for time passes,
Half-full already is the September moon.
The shepherds already they begin to leave,
Those who go Puglia way, and those for Rome.
And whither will my love, my shepherd, go?
Where he may take his way let there be meadows
And springs of water, and never any wind,
And let him think of me when it grows night!
Aligi:
Mila, Aligi toward Rome will travel.
He will go where they go by all the roads,
Leading his flock toward Rome, toward Rome the Great,
That he may get him pardon from the Vicar,
Forgiveness from the Vicar of Christ Our Lord,
Because he is the Shepherd of the shepherds.
Not to Apulia this year will he journey,
But to Our Lady of the Schiavonia
Send by the hand of Alia of Averna
These candlesticks carved out of cypress wood,
And with them he will send two little candles,
That she may not forget him, though a sinner,
Our Lady who keeps watch upon the shore.
And the Angel, Mila, when it shall be finished,
This Angel he will load upon a mule,
And with him, step by step, will carry it.
Mila:
O hasten, hasten, Aligi, for time passes,
From the girdle down the Angel still is hidden
In the block, and still its two feet are fast bound
In the wood, and still its hands are without fingers,
And the eyes are on the same line with the forehead.
Thou didst linger long making the Angel's wings
Feather by feather, but it cannot fly.
Aligi:
Gostanzo the painter, he will aid me, Mila.
Gostanzo of Bisegna, he who paints
The histories that make our carts so gay.
Already he and I have planned together
How he will give me of his finest colors;
And the brothers, it may be, at the Badia,
For a little lamb will give a bit of gold leaf
To put upon the wings and round the throat.
Mila:
O hasten, hasten, Aligi, for time passes,
Already the night is longer than the day,
And from the plain the shadow rises early,
Early and swiftly when one is not thinking,
So that the eye directs the hand no longer,
And the blind chisel cannot aid thy skill. Cosma stirs in his sleep and moans. Far off is heard the holy chant of the pilgrimage .
Cosma is dreaming, and who knows what he dreams?
Listen, the song of the company of pilgrims,
Who are crossing over the mountain to go down,
Perhaps, to Santa Maria della Potenza,
Aligi, toward thy land, thy land they go;
Toward thine own house there where thy mother dwells;
Perhaps they will pass by at little distance,
And the mother will hear them singing, and Ornella,
Perhaps, and they will say: " Listen, these pilgrims
Are coming down from the cabins of the shepherds,
And never a message has been sent to us! " Aligi is bending down shaping roughly with the hatchet the lower part of the block. He gives one blow and, leaving the iron in the wood, rises anxiously .
Aligi:
Why wilt thou touch the heart where most it hurts?
I will run down and meet them in the roadway,
Mila, and beg the crucifer to carry
A message — but, oh, what, what shall I say?
Mila:
Say to him: " O good crucifer, I pray thee,
If thou pass through the valley of San Biagio,
Through the countryside that they call Acquanova,
Ask for a house, the house there of a woman
Who is called Candia della Leonessa.
Halt there, for thou wilt surely have from her
A bit of food and drink, and it may be
Thou wilt have more. Halt there, and say: " Thy son
Aligi salutes thee, and salutes his sisters
With thee, salutes also his bride, Vienda,
And sends his promise that he will descend,
That he may have thy blessing once again
In peace, before he needs must go away;
And he assures thee that he now is free
From evil and from peril; he is free,
Forever free, from the false enemy;
And never again will he be cause of anger,
And never again be cause of grief and tears
To his mother, to his bride, nor to his sisters." "
Aligi:
O Mila, Mila, what is the wind that beats
Upon thy soul and sways thee? A sudden wind,
A wind of fear. And thy voice is grown faint
Upon thy lips, and all the blood has left
Thy face. Mila, why wouldst thou have me send
A lying message to my mother's house?
Mila:
In truth, in truth, in very truth I speak,
O brother, brother mine, dear to thy sister,
As true as that I never sinned with thee,
But I was as a taper burning ever
Before thy faith, and shining with the light
Of love immaculate, adoring thee.
In truth, in truth, in very truth I speak,
And say: Go, go, run down into the road,
And seek the crucifer, that he may bear
The message of thy peace to Acquanova.
The parting hour has come, the hour has come
For Jorio's daughter, and so let it be.
Aligi:
Surely of the wild honey thou hast eaten,
And all thy mind is vexed. Where wilt thou go?
Mila:
I will go where they go by all the roads.
Aligi:
Ah, come with me then, Mila, come with me!
The way is long, is long, but thee also
I will mount on my mule, and we will go,
We two, with hope, and travel toward great Rome.
Mila:
No, no, I must needs go another way,
Swiftly, on my own feet, and without hope. Aligi turns to the old woman, who sleeps .
Aligi:
Ho, Anna Onna, there! Wake up! Get up!
And go and seek for me black hellebore,
That it may bring this woman's wits again.
Mila:
Do not be angry, Aligi, for if thou art,
Even thou, angry with me, how shall I live
Until the night? From underneath thy heel,
Aligi, I shall not gather up my heart.
Aligi:
To my own house I never will return,
Daughter of Jorio, except with thee,
Mila di Codra, mine by sacrament.
Mila:
Aligi, Aligi, shall I again pass over
That threshold where the cross of wax was laid?
There where a man appeared with bleeding head;
And the man's son spoke there and said to him:
" If that blood is unjust, thou mayst not pass. "
And it was noon, the vigil of the day
Of San Giovanni. It was harvest time.
The sickle now hangs idle on the wall,
The grain lies resting in the granary,
But the pain sown that day is growing still. Cosma stirs, groaning in his sleep .
Aligi:
But dost thou know who will lead thee by the hand?
Cosma, shrieking:
No, do not loose him! do not let him go!
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