Classic Poem

Scene 2 The saint opens his arms, lifting his face from his hands .

Mila:

What art thou dreaming, Cosma? Cosma, speak!

Cosma wakens, and rises.

Aligi:

What hast thou seen, O Cosma? Cosma, speak!

Cosma:

Horrible things came to me in my sleep.
I saw — I dare not tell what I have seen.
Oh, every dream that comes from God must be
Made pure with fire, before it can be told.
I saw, I saw, and, surely, I will tell —
But let me not profanely use the name
Of God, my God, interpreting the dream,
Now, while the darkness still is over me.

Aligi:

Cosma, thou art a saint, for many years
Thou hast bathed thyself with water from the snow,
With water flowing from the mountainside
Thou hast quenched thy thirst under the open sky.
To-day thou hast been sleeping in my cave,
Upon my sheepfells that have been made clean
With sulphur that can keep the nightmare off.
Thou hast seen visions, Cosma, in thy sleep,
The eye of the Lord God is upon thee.
Then with thy understanding succor me.
Now I will speak to thee; do thou reply.

Cosma:

O boy, true wisdom I have never learned,
And I have no more understanding mind
Than has the pebble in the shepherd path.

Aligi:

O Cosma, man of God, listen to me.
I pray thee by the Angel hidden there
In the block, that has no ears and yet does hear.

Cosma:

Speak out then, shepherd, speak straight words,
And do not put thy faith in me,
But in the holy truth have faith. Malde and Anna Onna rise up and rest on their elbows to listen .

Aligi:

O Cosma, Cosma, this is holy truth:
From the plain of Puglia I came back to the mountain,
Leading my flock, the day of Corpus Christi.
When I had found a spot to make my sheepfold,
Down to my house I went to spend three days.
And in my house, Cosma, I found my mother
Who said to me: " My dear son, I will give thee
A bride. " And I made answer: " Mother, always
I have kept thy commandments, " and she said,
" 'Tis well, my son, this is thy bride. " They made
The wedding feast, and all the kinsfolk came
With me, to bring the new bride to our house.
And I was like a man on the farther shore
Of a stream, who sees the things that lie beyond
The water, while through the midst he sees
The water flow, that flows eternally.
Cosma, 'twas Sunday, and I had not drunk
Of wine made heavy with the poppy seeds.
Cosma, why did a great sleep fall on me,
And overpower my forgetful heart?
Cosma, I think I slept seven hundred years.
On Monday it was late when we arose.
My mother broke the loaf of bread above
The maiden's head, who only wept and wept.
And I had never touched her. Then our kin
Came bringing baskets filled with wheat for us.
But I was silent, always, and most sad,
As if I stood within the shadow of death.
And, see, upon a sudden enter there
This woman trembling all from head to foot.
The reapers they were persecuting her,
The dogs! And she was praying us for help.
And none of us, Cosma, not one would stir,
Only my little sister, the smallest one,
Ran, and was brave enough to close the door.
And then the door is battered by those dogs,
Cosma, with every sort of vile abuse.
And they cry out against this woman here,
With lying mouths and hateful words.
And the kinsfolk wish to throw her to the pack.
And she, all sorrowful, close by the hearth,
Begs mercy that they may not slaughter her.
Then I, myself, I seize and drag her there,
In hate and fear; and 'tis as if I dragged
My own heart when I was a little child.
And she cries out, and I, — O, I lift up
My staff against her. And my sisters weep.
And then, behind her, Cosma, with these eyes,
I see, I see the Angel stand, that weeps,
O Saint, I see it! The Angel looks on me,
It weeps, and does not speak. And then I kneel.
I beg for pardon. And to punish this
My hand, I reach and take from off the hearth
A burning coal. " No, do not burn thyself! "
The woman cries. And then she speaks to me.
O Cosma, O thou saint, with water of snow
Thou dost baptize thyself dawn after dawn;
And thou, old woman, canst tell all the herbs
That heal all evils known to Christian flesh,
The virtues thou dost know of every root;
And thou, Malde, with that forked wand of thine
Discernest where the buried treasures lie
At the feet of the dead, who have been long time dead —
For a hundred years, for a thousand years, I know,
And deep they are buried in the mountain, deep —
And now I will ask of you, of you who hear
The things that come from far, and far away,
What voice was it, and from what distances,
That came and spoke so that Aligi heard?
Answer me, all of you. She said to me:
" How wilt thou tend thy flock if thou thyself,
Shepherd Aligi, hurtest thine own hand? "
And with that word she seemed to gather up
The very soul of me from out my bones,
As thou, old woman, gatherest an herb!

Mila weeps silently.

Anna Onna:

There is a red herb that they call glaspi,
And another, white, and it is called egusa,
And the one grows and the other, far apart,
But the roots beneath the ground they find each other,
Under the blind earth, and they intertwine
So closely that not even Santa Lucia
Discerns them. And their leaves are different,
But they bear the same flower, each seven years.
And this also is written in the books,
And Cosma knows the power of the Lord.

Aligi:

O listen, Cosma, that forgetful sleep,
From whence, from whom was it sent to my bed?
A maiden's innocent hand it was that closed
The door of safety; and to me appeared
The Angel of good counsel; and one word
Upon the lip made an eternal bond.
Which woman was my wife there by the sign
Of the good grain, of the bread and of the flower?

Cosma:

Shepherd Aligi, listen, the just scales
And the just weight and balance are of God.
And do thou still take heed to understand
The mind of Him in whom thy safety lies;
Take thou from Him a pledge for the unknown one.
But she thou didst not touch, where is she now?

Aligi:

I left for the sheep-fold at vesper-time,
That vigil of San Giovanni. At the dawn
I found myself above at Capracinta,
And stood, and waited for the rising sun.
And in the sun's red ring I saw the face
Of the Beheaded. Then I sought my fold,
Took up again my pasturing and my pain.
And it seemed always that my sleep endured,
And that my flock was feeding on my life.
And, oh, my heart, how heavily it weighed!
O Cosma, I saw her, saw her shadow first,
And then herself upon the threshold stone.
It was the day of Santo Teobaldo.
This woman was sitting there upon the stone,
At the threshold and she could not rise, because
Her feet were wounded. Then she said: " Aligi,
Thou knowest me? " And I answered: " Thou art Mila. "
And then we spoke no more, because no more
Were we two souls. We did not sin that day,
Nor ever after. I tell thee in very truth.

Cosma:

Shepherd Aligi, truly thou hast lighted
A holy lamp in the darkness of thy night,
But thou hast set it in place of the old mark,
The ancient boundary that thy fathers raised.
Thou hast removed that consecrated stone.
And what shall come to thee if thy lamp fail?
The counsel of man's heart is like deep water;
And yet the honest man may understand.

Aligi:

I pray to God that he will place on us
The seal of that eternal sacrament.
Dost thou see what I do? With soul in hand
I carve this block of wood into the form
Of the Angel who appeared. It was begun
On last Assumption Day, and I intend
At the Rosario to finish it.
Then, listen, I will lead my flock to Rome,
And carry this angel with me on a mule,
And I will go myself to the Holy Father,
In the name of San Pietro Celestino
Who did long penance on the mountain-side.
I am going to the Shepherd of the shepherds
And with this offering ask that he may grant
That the bride whom I did never touch may go
Back to her mother, loosed from every bond,
And that I may take unto myself this woman,
The stranger who can weep and make no sound.
And now I ask of thy great knowledge, tell,
O Cosma, will that grace be granted me?

Cosma:

Now all the pathways of a man seem straight
To the man; but it is God who weigheth hearts.
High walls, high walls are built around the City,
It has great gates of iron, and all about
Great tombs are builded where grass grows and grows.
Thy little lamb will browse not on that grass,
Shepherd Aligi. Inquire of thy mother.

A voice outside, shrieking:

O Cosma, Cosma, art thou there? Come forth!