Complete Poems and Plays (33 page)

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Authors: T. S. Eliot

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BOOK: Complete Poems and Plays
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Laughter in the noises of beasts that make strange noises: jackal,

jackass, jackdaw; the scurrying noise of mouse and jerboa; the

laugh of the loon, the lunatic bird. I have seen

Grey necks twisting, rat tails twining, in the thick light of dawn. I

have eaten

Smooth creatures still living, with the strong salt taste of living

things under the sea; I have tasted

The living lobster, the crab, the oyster, the whelk and the prawn;

and they live and spawn in my bowels, and my bowels dissolve

in the light of dawn. I have smelt

Death in the rose, death in the hollyhock, sweet pea, hyacinth,

primrose and cowslip. I have seen

Trunk and horn, tusk and hoof, in odd places;

I have lain on the floor of the sea and breathed with the breathing

of the sea-anemone, swallowed with ingurgitation of the

sponge. I have lain in the soil and criticised the worm. In the

air

Flirted with the passage of the kite, I have plunged with the kite

and cowered with the wren. I have felt

The horn of the beetle, the scale of the viper, the mobile hard

insensitive skin of the elephant, the evasive flank of the fish.

I have smelt

Corruption in the dish, incense in the latrine, the sewer in the

incense, the smell of sweet soap in the woodpath, a hellish

sweet scent in the woodpath, while the ground heaved. I have

seen

Rings of light coiling downwards, descending

To the horror of the ape. Have I not known, not known

What was coming to be? It was here, in the kitchen, in the passage,

In the mews in the barn in the byre in the market-place

In our veins our bowels our skulls as well

As well as in the plottings of potentates

As well as in the consultations of powers.

What is woven on the loom of fate

What is woven in the councils of princes

Is woven also in our veins, our brains,

Is woven like a pattern of living worms

In the guts of the women of Canterbury.

 

 

I have smelt them, the death-bringers; now is too late

For action, too soon for contrition.

Nothing is possible but the shamed swoon

Of those consenting to the last humiliation.

I have consented, Lord Archbishop, have consented.

Am torn away, subdued, violated,

United to the spiritual flesh of nature,

Mastered by the animal powers of spirit,

Dominated by the lust of self-demolition,

By the final utter uttermost death of spirit,

By the final ecstasy of waste and shame,

O Lord Archbishop, O Thomas Archbishop, forgive us, forgive us,

pray for us that we may pray for you, out of our shame.

[
Enter
T
HOMAS
]

T
HOMAS
.
Peace, and be at peace with your thoughts and visions.

These things had to come to you and you to accept them,

This is your share of the eternal burden,

The perpetual glory. This is one moment,

But know that another

Shall pierce you with a sudden painful joy

When the figure of God’s purpose is made complete.

You shall forget these things, toiling in the household,

You shall remember them, droning by the fire,

When age and forgetfulness sweeten memory

Only like a dream that has often been told

And often been changed in the telling. They will seem unreal.

Human kind cannot bear very much reality.

[
Enter
P
RIESTS
]

P
RIESTS
[
severally
].
My Lord, you must not stop here. To the minster.

Through the cloister. No time to waste. They are coming back,

armed. To the altar, to the altar.

T
HOMAS
.
All my life they have been coming, these feet. All my life

I have waited. Death will come only when I am worthy,

And if I am worthy, there is no danger.

I have therefore only to make perfect my will.

P
RIESTS
,
My Lord, they are coming. They will break through

presently.

You will be killed. Come to the altar.

Make haste, my Lord. Don’t stop here talking. It is not right.

What shall become of us, my Lord, if you are killed;

what shall become of us?

T
HOMAS
.
Peace! be quiet! remember where you are, and what is

happening;

No life here is sought for but mine,

And I am not in danger: only near to death.

P
RIESTS
.
My Lord, to vespers! You must not be absent from vespers.

You must not be absent from the divine office. To vespers.

Into the Cathedral!

T
HOMAS
.
Go to vespers, remember me at your prayers.

They shall find the shepherd here; the flock shall be spared.

I have had a tremor of bliss, a wink of heaven, a whisper,

And I would no longer be denied; all things

Proceed to a joyful consummation.

P
RIESTS
.
Seize him! force him! drag him!

T
HOMAS
.
Keep your hands off!

P
RIESTS
.
To vespers! Hurry.

[
They
drag
him
off.
While
the
C
HORUS
speak,
the
scene
is
changed
to
the
cathedral.
]

C
HORUS
[
while
a
Dies Iræe
is
sung
in
Latin
by
a
choir
in
the
distance
]
.
Numb the hand and dry the eyelid,

Still the horror, but more horror

Than when tearing in the belly.

 

 

Still the horror, but more horror

Than when twisting in the fingers,

Than when splitting in the skull.

 

 

More than footfall in the passage,

More than shadow in the doorway,

More than fury in the hall.

 

 

The agents of hell disappear, the human, they shrink and dissolve

Into dust on the wind, forgotten, unmemorable; only is here

The white flat face of Death, God’s silent servant,

And behind the face of Death the Judgement

And behind the Judgement the Void, more horrid than active

shapes of hell;

Emptiness, absence, separation from God;

The horror of the effortless journey, to the empty land

Which is no land, only emptiness, absence, the Void,

Where those who were men can no longer turn the mind

To distraction, delusion, escape into dream, pretence,

Where the soul is no longer deceived, for there are no objects, no

tones,

No colours, no forms to distract, to divert the soul

From seeing itself, foully united forever, nothing with nothing,

Not what we call death, but what beyond death is not death,

We fear, we fear. Who shall then plead for me,

Who intercede for me, in my most need?

 

 

Dead upon the tree, my Saviour,

Let not be in vain Thy labour;

Help me, Lord, in my last fear.

 

 

Dust I am, to dust am bending,

From the final doom impending

Help me, Lord, for death is near.

[
In
the
cathedral.
T
HOMAS
and
P
RIESTS
]

P
RIESTS
.
Bar the door. Bar the door

The door is barred.

We are safe. We are safe.

They dare not break in.

They cannot break in. They have not the force.

We are safe. We are safe.

T
HOMAS
.
Unbar the doors! throw open the doors!

I will not have the house of prayer, the church of Christ,

The sanctuary, turned into a fortress.

The Church shall protect her own, in her own way, not

As oak and stone; stone and oak decay,

Give no stay, but the Church shall endure.

The Church shall be open, even to our enemies. Open the door!

P
RIESTS
.
My Lord! these are not men, these come not as men come, but

Like maddened beasts. They come not like men, who

Respect the sanctuary, who kneel to the Body of Christ,

But like beasts. You would bar the door

Against the lion, the leopard, the wolf or the boar,

Why not more

Against beasts with the souls of damned men, against men

Who would damn themselves to beasts. My Lord! My Lord!

T
HOMAS
.
You think me reckless, desperate and mad.

You argue by results, as this world does,

To settle if an act be good or bad.

You defer to the fact. For every life and every act

Consequence of good and evil can be shown.

And as in time results of many deeds are blended

So good and evil in the end become confounded.

It is not in time that my death shall be known;

It is out of time that my decision is taken

If you call that decision

To which my whole being gives entire consent.

I give my life

To the Law of God above the Law of Man.

Unbar the door! unbar the door!

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