Sweden's Laureate: Selected Poems of Verner von Heidenstam/The Wedding of the Sisters of Isis
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THE WEDDING OF THE SISTERS OF ISIS.
I.
Prolog: Chorus of the Sisters of Isis.
Raise the garlands, O ye virgin sisters,
From your hair unto the drowsy night!
O'er the desert now the twilight glisters.
Would the hour of evening ne'er took flight!
Would those girls of Thebes, each one so tender
Bearing to the well her polished jar,
Might be ever lovely, ever slender,
Ever youthful as to-night they are!
Would yon boys that on the mountains blue
To their flocks now call
Might stay children, and their lambkins too
Be but lambkins small!
Lift your voices, virgins pure, in weeping,
O'er each myrtle wreath let sweet tears well!
Bar the world from out the temple, keeping
But the sweet that in this eve doth dwell,
But the innocence of youthful creatures!
Let a refuge here for that be made,
Which with yonder boys and girls will fade,
Wearing only long-lost memory's features!
Prolog: Chorus of the Sisters of Isis.
Raise the garlands, O ye virgin sisters,
From your hair unto the drowsy night!
O'er the desert now the twilight glisters.
Would the hour of evening ne'er took flight!
Would those girls of Thebes, each one so tender
Bearing to the well her polished jar,
Might be ever lovely, ever slender,
Ever youthful as to-night they are!
Would yon boys that on the mountains blue
To their flocks now call
Might stay children, and their lambkins too
Be but lambkins small!
Lift your voices, virgins pure, in weeping,
O'er each myrtle wreath let sweet tears well!
Bar the world from out the temple, keeping
But the sweet that in this eve doth dwell,
But the innocence of youthful creatures!
Let a refuge here for that be made,
Which with yonder boys and girls will fade,
Wearing only long-lost memory's features!
II.
After a listless day, when the cool of an eve in December
Came like a rapture of rest upon Thebes, the overthronged city,
Then did the handmaids of Isis meet on the roof of the temple;
Vestured in white, they enringed a bowl of glittering copper.
Brimful of water, it shone, the mighty bowl on its tripod.
Oft was it used so, because in the stars it mirrored could women
Skilled in star-cunning divine the joys and griefs of the future.
After a listless day, when the cool of an eve in December
Came like a rapture of rest upon Thebes, the overthronged city,
Then did the handmaids of Isis meet on the roof of the temple;
Vestured in white, they enringed a bowl of glittering copper.
Brimful of water, it shone, the mighty bowl on its tripod.
Oft was it used so, because in the stars it mirrored could women
Skilled in star-cunning divine the joys and griefs of the future.
Then did the eldest priestess, the ninety-year Bent-Amenemma,
Heavily rise. On her breast a beaten-gold image of Isis
Gleamed. From her tenderest years for that moonlight faith she had striven,
Chaste and inviolate law of the pure, the gentle-eyed Isis.
Strictly she governed the rest. Through the city,—nay, throughout Egypt,—
Flew the insulting words that her savage tongue had been hurling
Long against Hator-Secket, the Goddess of Pleasure. She bowed her
Silently over the bowl and read in the fate-written water.
Heavily rise. On her breast a beaten-gold image of Isis
Gleamed. From her tenderest years for that moonlight faith she had striven,
Chaste and inviolate law of the pure, the gentle-eyed Isis.
Strictly she governed the rest. Through the city,—nay, throughout Egypt,—
Flew the insulting words that her savage tongue had been hurling
Long against Hator-Secket, the Goddess of Pleasure. She bowed her
Silently over the bowl and read in the fate-written water.
Anxious and hushed, the circle waited; but lo! with a sudden
Gesture she flung back her whitened hair! "Ye priestesses holy,
Never the stars have given an answer more grim than this evening.
Darkly, sepulchrally clanks a threatening doom there above us:
One of us shall to-night so deeply sin, that atonement
Greater by sevenfold than the sin shall of us be demanded."
Gesture she flung back her whitened hair! "Ye priestesses holy,
Never the stars have given an answer more grim than this evening.
Darkly, sepulchrally clanks a threatening doom there above us:
One of us shall to-night so deeply sin, that atonement
Greater by sevenfold than the sin shall of us be demanded."
Whispering then, the priestesses rose, but the pretty Ahanna
Twitched the old woman's robe and said: "O worthy high priestess,
Ask of the sinner's name, that she straight be exposed without mercy!"
Lifting a hand as dried as a mummy, and moved unto weeping,
Thus did the other reply, the ninety-year Bent-Amenemma:
"Spare we that question to-night; to-morrow it well may be answered.
Seems not the blow sufficient to thee? Would my zeal, then, be grateful,
If thou thyself should'st be crushed by the weight of the starry foreboding?"
Twitched the old woman's robe and said: "O worthy high priestess,
Ask of the sinner's name, that she straight be exposed without mercy!"
Lifting a hand as dried as a mummy, and moved unto weeping,
Thus did the other reply, the ninety-year Bent-Amenemma:
"Spare we that question to-night; to-morrow it well may be answered.
Seems not the blow sufficient to thee? Would my zeal, then, be grateful,
If thou thyself should'st be crushed by the weight of the starry foreboding?"
So she ended. And, foll'wing the bowl which the sisters in silence
Carried, they slowly went down from the roof in mournful procession.
Carried, they slowly went down from the roof in mournful procession.
⋅⋅⋅⋅⋅
Eve became night, and around the failing fires in the market
Shivering boys attended the voice of the teller of stories.
Clad in his chequered coat with bells on sleeves and on hem, he
Sang in the waning glare of the flame, which tinted his figure
Ghastly pale as a powdered buffoon. On a height in the desert,
Far from the market-place, far from the hundred gates of the city,
Rose in stupendous bulk the dusky temple of Isis.
Open it was, as ever, but guarded by staring-eyed sphinxes
And by the faith of mankind;—superstition and faith are the same, lo!—
Through the pylon and fore-court the way was open to all men.
Farther might none proceed, for there in the inner-most shrine sat,—
Hewn of gray-black granite that came from afar in the southland,
Rock-hard, mysteriously dark, and half concealed in her mantle,—
Isis, with Horus on knee, in her horns the disc of the full-moon.
Shivering boys attended the voice of the teller of stories.
Clad in his chequered coat with bells on sleeves and on hem, he
Sang in the waning glare of the flame, which tinted his figure
Ghastly pale as a powdered buffoon. On a height in the desert,
Far from the market-place, far from the hundred gates of the city,
Rose in stupendous bulk the dusky temple of Isis.
Open it was, as ever, but guarded by staring-eyed sphinxes
And by the faith of mankind;—superstition and faith are the same, lo!—
Through the pylon and fore-court the way was open to all men.
Farther might none proceed, for there in the inner-most shrine sat,—
Hewn of gray-black granite that came from afar in the southland,
Rock-hard, mysteriously dark, and half concealed in her mantle,—
Isis, with Horus on knee, in her horns the disc of the full-moon.
Warden's place by the statue that night was assigned to Ahanna.
Stiffly erect as the goddess; her chin, her cheek, and her forehead
Vividly lighted with red, but with heavy shadows extending
Over her eyes, she stood, her bare arms crossed on her bosom,
Close to the altar-fire with its wind-blown, flickering streamers.
Roused by a squeaking bat, that flew with wings nearly singeing
Back and forth by the flame, she looked about and beheld then—
Far through the lotos-columns, which all from bottom to top were
Stained blue and red with symbolical pictures of mythic tradition—
Deep in the darkness, a man in flowing raiment of scarlet.
Pallid with consternation, she sprang back and held o'er the fire
Hands outstretched in imploring as unto a spectre. The Red One,
Carelessly humming, advanced to the light none the less, and forthwith she
Knew him to be a priest of Hator, whose robe was embroidered
Down all its trailing expanse with figures of pipes and of tambours.
Stiffly erect as the goddess; her chin, her cheek, and her forehead
Vividly lighted with red, but with heavy shadows extending
Over her eyes, she stood, her bare arms crossed on her bosom,
Close to the altar-fire with its wind-blown, flickering streamers.
Roused by a squeaking bat, that flew with wings nearly singeing
Back and forth by the flame, she looked about and beheld then—
Far through the lotos-columns, which all from bottom to top were
Stained blue and red with symbolical pictures of mythic tradition—
Deep in the darkness, a man in flowing raiment of scarlet.
Pallid with consternation, she sprang back and held o'er the fire
Hands outstretched in imploring as unto a spectre. The Red One,
Carelessly humming, advanced to the light none the less, and forthwith she
Knew him to be a priest of Hator, whose robe was embroidered
Down all its trailing expanse with figures of pipes and of tambours.
Poised on a bull-like neck, his head rose straight and defiant.
Jewels a-many he bore on his youthful arms, and he chanted
Low, while his teeth shone white and the temple rang with his laughter:
"I, merry Hator's priest, who have sipped till the close of the evening
Wine sweet as ever was drunk in Thebes, the opulent city,
Now have a tickling desire to eat here my supper untroubled,
Toasting my loaf at the embers that glow on the altar of Isis.
Sit, that we may divide it like brother and sister, my darling!
Then, timid child, thou shalt give me thy lips for a kiss to repay me."
Jewels a-many he bore on his youthful arms, and he chanted
Low, while his teeth shone white and the temple rang with his laughter:
"I, merry Hator's priest, who have sipped till the close of the evening
Wine sweet as ever was drunk in Thebes, the opulent city,
Now have a tickling desire to eat here my supper untroubled,
Toasting my loaf at the embers that glow on the altar of Isis.
Sit, that we may divide it like brother and sister, my darling!
Then, timid child, thou shalt give me thy lips for a kiss to repay me."
Blushing red with shame and terror, the maiden pushed from her
Sidewise the loaf that he broke so calmly over the fire.
Frantic with haste, she caught from the altar utensils a bell then,
Massive its clapper of gold, with handle carven of amber
Brought by seamen of Sidon from regions of uttermost Thule.
Hollowly now in the lonely depths of the temple resounded
Four quick metallic blows, like wing-beats close to each other.
Harshly the great doors ground and sandals hurriedly pattered,
White-robed priestesses came from stairway and passage; amazed, they
Saw there the priest of Hator. But bitterly spoke the high priestess,
Eldest among them all, the ninety-year Bent-Amenemma:
"This is the sin predestined. In Isis' presence our sister
Stood with a man. In Isis' presence now must she be offered!
Sevenfold more than the sin the offering demanded, and therefore
Six more, the youngest, I doom to fall by the knife as atonement."
Therewith she felt for and drew a knife, but a thunderous wind-gust
Blew out the altar-flame. The trembling, terrified sisters,
Huddling close together, their prayers and formulas muttered.
Bent-Amenemma, famed for supernatural wisdom,
Spoke, after blowing asunder the heap of blackening embers:
"Sisters, that was a sign to spare the young girls. Let us hasten
Even to-night unto Thebes to the priests of Hator for counsel!"
Sidewise the loaf that he broke so calmly over the fire.
Frantic with haste, she caught from the altar utensils a bell then,
Massive its clapper of gold, with handle carven of amber
Brought by seamen of Sidon from regions of uttermost Thule.
Hollowly now in the lonely depths of the temple resounded
Four quick metallic blows, like wing-beats close to each other.
Harshly the great doors ground and sandals hurriedly pattered,
White-robed priestesses came from stairway and passage; amazed, they
Saw there the priest of Hator. But bitterly spoke the high priestess,
Eldest among them all, the ninety-year Bent-Amenemma:
"This is the sin predestined. In Isis' presence our sister
Stood with a man. In Isis' presence now must she be offered!
Sevenfold more than the sin the offering demanded, and therefore
Six more, the youngest, I doom to fall by the knife as atonement."
Therewith she felt for and drew a knife, but a thunderous wind-gust
Blew out the altar-flame. The trembling, terrified sisters,
Huddling close together, their prayers and formulas muttered.
Bent-Amenemma, famed for supernatural wisdom,
Spoke, after blowing asunder the heap of blackening embers:
"Sisters, that was a sign to spare the young girls. Let us hasten
Even to-night unto Thebes to the priests of Hator for counsel!"
⋅⋅⋅⋅⋅
When with the sisters she neared the house of the famed and audacious
Brothers of Hator, she heard a clamor of drinking within it.
Stretched supine on a couch lay the jesting high priest of the order.
Boys from Goshen were swinging on handles covered with silver
Elegant peacock fans that shone with the gleam of a hundred
Sapphires and emeralds. Then in time with the tinkle of cithers
All arose for the dance. The caps and cloaks of the dancers
Glittered with cloth of silver, with opals and gay-colored tassels.
Darkly Bent-Amenemma stood forth in the midst of the banquet's
Carelessly rippling commotion, and making her way to the high priest,
Spoke with accents of sternest command: "Thou prince of vain pleasures,
Break off thy scandalous feast, let the juggling fiddles be silent!
Cast off thy panther-skin dress and put on the raiment of sorrow!
For by the stars a sin was foretold." The ninety-year woman,
Pale and bent, would but tell in a whisper that which had happened,
Writhing her hands in despair and terror, while tears without ceasing
Poured down her wrinkled cheeks. The merry high priest, as he heard her,—
He who, most like a child with friendly eyes full of wonder,
Took his days as they came and strewed on him legends and fancies;
He who, soon as a priest bore tidings of grief to the dwelling,
Drove him forth with showers of figs and bunches of wine-grapes,—
He, the lover of scoffing, was smitten with shame and, embarrassed,
Knotted his fingers so tightly around the sable and hairy
Goat-skin bottle of wine, that purple drops of the vintage
Sprinkled his hand.—"My sister, oh wisdom-renowned, my sister"—
Shy and abashed he began, and gave her his hand, on whose fingers
Wine was glowing like blood. "But half is it proved, oh my sister.
True, by the stars was foretold a sin, but the name of the sinner
Thou did'st omit to ask. Bring thy bowl and seek in the water
Whether the stars have writ that the sinner's name is Ahanna!"
Brothers of Hator, she heard a clamor of drinking within it.
Stretched supine on a couch lay the jesting high priest of the order.
Boys from Goshen were swinging on handles covered with silver
Elegant peacock fans that shone with the gleam of a hundred
Sapphires and emeralds. Then in time with the tinkle of cithers
All arose for the dance. The caps and cloaks of the dancers
Glittered with cloth of silver, with opals and gay-colored tassels.
Darkly Bent-Amenemma stood forth in the midst of the banquet's
Carelessly rippling commotion, and making her way to the high priest,
Spoke with accents of sternest command: "Thou prince of vain pleasures,
Break off thy scandalous feast, let the juggling fiddles be silent!
Cast off thy panther-skin dress and put on the raiment of sorrow!
For by the stars a sin was foretold." The ninety-year woman,
Pale and bent, would but tell in a whisper that which had happened,
Writhing her hands in despair and terror, while tears without ceasing
Poured down her wrinkled cheeks. The merry high priest, as he heard her,—
He who, most like a child with friendly eyes full of wonder,
Took his days as they came and strewed on him legends and fancies;
He who, soon as a priest bore tidings of grief to the dwelling,
Drove him forth with showers of figs and bunches of wine-grapes,—
He, the lover of scoffing, was smitten with shame and, embarrassed,
Knotted his fingers so tightly around the sable and hairy
Goat-skin bottle of wine, that purple drops of the vintage
Sprinkled his hand.—"My sister, oh wisdom-renowned, my sister"—
Shy and abashed he began, and gave her his hand, on whose fingers
Wine was glowing like blood. "But half is it proved, oh my sister.
True, by the stars was foretold a sin, but the name of the sinner
Thou did'st omit to ask. Bring thy bowl and seek in the water
Whether the stars have writ that the sinner's name is Ahanna!"
Now had the bowl been brought and set on its copper-green tripod,
High aloft was it raised in the sheltered court of the palace.
There did the southern stars through the limpid night of the desert
Brightly gaze on the bowl. At the threshold-stone in the doorway,
Diffident, stood the high priest. His brothers, who else were accustomed
Only to revel and jest, were standing like boys newly punished
Round the bowl of the sisters; the strains of music were silent,
Sweet-breathing incense was quenched in the sandy square of the courtyard.
High aloft was it raised in the sheltered court of the palace.
There did the southern stars through the limpid night of the desert
Brightly gaze on the bowl. At the threshold-stone in the doorway,
Diffident, stood the high priest. His brothers, who else were accustomed
Only to revel and jest, were standing like boys newly punished
Round the bowl of the sisters; the strains of music were silent,
Sweet-breathing incense was quenched in the sandy square of the courtyard.
Straight'ning her crooked back, out stepped then Bent-Amenemma,
Grim with menace, and read the far-famed oracular surface.
Upright for long she stood, but slowly sank more together,
Anxiously groping about with her fingers over her kirtle,
Staring with fixed, keen gaze at the fiery star-script. In horror
Trembling, she sank on her knees. Her chin and cheek were sunk forward
Deep in the mirroring water. In dumb desperation she clenched her
Teeth on the edge of the shimmering bowl, and fell with an outcry
Vehemently back, while she dragged the bowl along in her falling;
Drenched with the sacred water, she lay a-swoon in the courtyard.
Forward the high priest hurried, he seized the hands of his brothers
Warmly, nor did his attire, that shone with jeweled adornments,
Gleam more brilliantly now than his eyes all radiant with rapture.
Nodding, he shouted aloud, as amid the flutes thrown aside there,
Fans, too, and trampled goblets, he went his way through the courtyard:
"Thine was the sinner's name, thine own, oh Bent-Amenemma!
When thou at Isis' foot drov'st away a man from thy sister,
Thou did'st wrong even Isis. Ah, why should we ever be laying
Our false words on the lips of the gods? For these women here wot of
Only one kind of sin, the sin to which others are subject.
Wine, the kiss of a girl, and the daring jest that will startle
Senile women and men—to the gods above these are blameless.
Moon and stars and sun are gifts of the gods, but so likewise
She the beloved of my youth and my loaf of bread. As like brothers,
Sharing the loaf and the goat-skin flask, we are sitting together,
In the convivial air sprouts the seed from which may in secret
Grow the all-brothering hour.—The sacrifice of atonement
Must be sevenfold more than the sin was. Therefore, my sister,
Give to eternal Hator of Isis' handmaidens seven.
Day and night shall the seven, for thus I interpret the judgment,
Ever be fettered, each one to the priest of Hator she favors."
Ill did the priestesses, though, repress their heart-hidden gladness,
When they were dragged away mid the Hator priests' exultation.
After the smith had been brought from Thebes, afar through the desert
Rang the quick-riveting strokes of the hammer; but when these were silent,
Loud to the lonely night from the fast-barred house of the brothers
Rattling tambours proclaimed the nuptial feast of the sisters.
Grim with menace, and read the far-famed oracular surface.
Upright for long she stood, but slowly sank more together,
Anxiously groping about with her fingers over her kirtle,
Staring with fixed, keen gaze at the fiery star-script. In horror
Trembling, she sank on her knees. Her chin and cheek were sunk forward
Deep in the mirroring water. In dumb desperation she clenched her
Teeth on the edge of the shimmering bowl, and fell with an outcry
Vehemently back, while she dragged the bowl along in her falling;
Drenched with the sacred water, she lay a-swoon in the courtyard.
Forward the high priest hurried, he seized the hands of his brothers
Warmly, nor did his attire, that shone with jeweled adornments,
Gleam more brilliantly now than his eyes all radiant with rapture.
Nodding, he shouted aloud, as amid the flutes thrown aside there,
Fans, too, and trampled goblets, he went his way through the courtyard:
"Thine was the sinner's name, thine own, oh Bent-Amenemma!
When thou at Isis' foot drov'st away a man from thy sister,
Thou did'st wrong even Isis. Ah, why should we ever be laying
Our false words on the lips of the gods? For these women here wot of
Only one kind of sin, the sin to which others are subject.
Wine, the kiss of a girl, and the daring jest that will startle
Senile women and men—to the gods above these are blameless.
Moon and stars and sun are gifts of the gods, but so likewise
She the beloved of my youth and my loaf of bread. As like brothers,
Sharing the loaf and the goat-skin flask, we are sitting together,
In the convivial air sprouts the seed from which may in secret
Grow the all-brothering hour.—The sacrifice of atonement
Must be sevenfold more than the sin was. Therefore, my sister,
Give to eternal Hator of Isis' handmaidens seven.
Day and night shall the seven, for thus I interpret the judgment,
Ever be fettered, each one to the priest of Hator she favors."
Ill did the priestesses, though, repress their heart-hidden gladness,
When they were dragged away mid the Hator priests' exultation.
After the smith had been brought from Thebes, afar through the desert
Rang the quick-riveting strokes of the hammer; but when these were silent,
Loud to the lonely night from the fast-barred house of the brothers
Rattling tambours proclaimed the nuptial feast of the sisters.
III.
Epilog: Hymn of the Priests of Hator to Ptah.
As bounteous love shines bright in every thread
Of the rich robe the husband's hand hath spread
As gift for the beloved one of his soul,
So bright, O God, thy love shines from the whole.
O love-abounding God! O Father good!
Say, hast thou nearer to our threshold stood
Than now, when wine from goat-skin flasks is streaming,
While gentle, string-sped music whispers low,
And we, the sons of hate, are brothers, deeming
That all the world with peace and love must glow?
If thou hast wrought whatever we perceive,
In evil also—we must then believe—
Reflected glimmers of thy glory shine.
Thus evil, too, is as a child of thine.
What God hath wrought must needs be free of blame.
What mortals "wickedness" and "sin" may name
Is wickedness and sin but in their sight.
There is a heavenly voice which earth misjudges quite.
Epilog: Hymn of the Priests of Hator to Ptah.
As bounteous love shines bright in every thread
Of the rich robe the husband's hand hath spread
As gift for the beloved one of his soul,
So bright, O God, thy love shines from the whole.
O love-abounding God! O Father good!
Say, hast thou nearer to our threshold stood
Than now, when wine from goat-skin flasks is streaming,
While gentle, string-sped music whispers low,
And we, the sons of hate, are brothers, deeming
That all the world with peace and love must glow?
If thou hast wrought whatever we perceive,
In evil also—we must then believe—
Reflected glimmers of thy glory shine.
Thus evil, too, is as a child of thine.
What God hath wrought must needs be free of blame.
What mortals "wickedness" and "sin" may name
Is wickedness and sin but in their sight.
There is a heavenly voice which earth misjudges quite.