THE SHIP
zuLu. Hate and despair and guilt still dog our path.
CHINESE. For misery is murder’s aftermath.
[Fearful and obscure music. They grope as blind men about
the stage on all fours, and veach the wharf.
The voice from the west.
Still on the mountains pour the avenging rains,
And still the fierce flood swallows up the plains.
The voice from below.
Father, O father Nu! O father Nu!
What miracle is this—tremendous-true?
The old ship is grown new!
The voice from the shrine.
How should a ship grow old
Whose virgin timbers hold
Mine awful ark of gold?
zuLu. Do I hear one speak of ships?
CHINESE. Listen, my lord, to these, no lying lips.
ARAB. Take us aboard; we sail where hunger grips
No more three poor blind beggar men.
nu [Aside]. May be
These are the assassin three!
[Aloud] Have ye the tokens of the true degree?
[They cower.
cHINESE. Ah, then, hope fails for ever !
ARAB. Let us hide
Beyond the borders of this treacherous tide;
Or it may steal upon us as we sleep.
zuLu. Would we were dead! Yet life is worth a leap.
CHINESE. O God, eternally to grope
This desert without hope!
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