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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/38877-0.txt b/38877-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..55efdfd --- /dev/null +++ b/38877-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7689 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Poems, by W. B. Yeats + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no +restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it +under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this +eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the +United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where +you are located before using this eBook. + +Title: Poems + +Author: W. B. Yeats + +Release Date: February 14, 2012 [EBook #38877] +[Most recently updated: March 28, 2022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 with BOM + +Produced by: Irma Å pehar, Rory OConor and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS, by W. B. YEATS *** + + + + + POEMS + + + EVERY IRISHMAN'S LIBRARY + + _Cr. 8vo., cloth, 3s. 6d. net each. With Frontispieces._ + + LIST OF VOLUMES + + 1. Thomas Davis. SELECTIONS FROM HIS PROSE + AND POETRY. Edited by T.W. ROLLESTON, + M.A. (Dublin). + + 2. Wild Sports of the West. By W.H. MAXWELL. + Edited by the EARL OF DUNRAVEN. + + 3. Legends of Saints and Sinners from the + Irish. Edited by DOUGLAS HYDE, LL.D. + (Dublin). + + 4. The Book of Irish Humour. Edited by + CHARLES L. GRAVES, M.A. (Oxon.). + + 5. Irish Orators and Oratory. With an Introduction + by Professor T.M. KETTLE, M.P. + + 6. The Book of Irish Poetry. Edited by ALFRED + PERCEVAL GRAVES, M.A. (Dublin). + + 7. Standish O'Grady. SELECTED ESSAYS AND + PASSAGES. Edited by ERNEST A. BOYD. + + 8. Recollections of Jonah Barrington. Edited + by GEORGE A. BIRMINGHAM. + + 9. Poems of Sir Samuel Ferguson. Edited by + ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES, M.A. + + 10. Carleton's Stories of Irish Life. With an + Introduction by DARRELL FIGGIS. + + 11. The Collegians. By GERALD GRIFFIN. With + Introduction by PADRAIC COLUM. + + 12. Maria Edgeworth: SELECTIONS FROM HER + WORKS. With an Introduction by MALCOLM + COTTER SETON, M.A. + + T. FISHER UNWIN LTD., LONDON + + + [Illustration: Signature: WB Yeats] + + + + + POEMS + + BY + + W.B. YEATS + + LONDON + T. FISHER UNWIN LTD. + ADELPHI TERRACE + + +"The Wanderings of Oisin" was published with the lyrics now collected +under the title "Crossways" in 1888, "The Countess Cathleen" with the +lyrics now collected under the title "The Rose" in 1892, and "The Land +of Heart's Desire" by itself in 1894. They were revised and reprinted in +one volume in 1895, again revised and reprinted in 1899, and again +reprinted in 1901, 1904, 1908, 1912, 1913, 1919, and 1920. + +(_All rights reserved_) + + + + +PREFACE + + +During the last year I have spent much time altering "The Countess +Cathleen" and "The Land of Heart's Desire" that they might be a part of +the repertory of the Abbey Theatre. I had written them before I had any +practical experience, and I knew from the performance of the one in +Dublin in 1899 and of the other in London in 1894 that they were full of +defects. But in their new shape--and each play has been twice played +during the winter--they have given me some pleasure, and are, I think, +easier to play effectively than my later plays, depending less upon the +players and more upon the producer, both having been imagined more for +variety of stage-picture than variety of mood in the player. It was, +indeed, the first performance of "The Countess Cathleen," when our +stage-pictures were made out of poor conventional scenery and hired +costumes, that set me writing plays where all would depend upon the +player. The first two scenes are wholly new, and though I have left the +old end in the body of this book I have given in the notes an end less +difficult to producer and audience, and there are slight alterations +elsewhere in the poem. "The Land of Heart's Desire," besides some +mending in the details, has been thrown back in time because the +metrical speech would have sounded unreal if spoken in a country cottage +now that we have so many dialect comedies. The shades of Mrs. Fallan and +Mrs. Dillane and of Dan Bourke and the Tramp would have seemed too +boisterous or too vivid for shades made cold and distant with the +artifice of verse. + +I have not again retouched the lyric poems of my youth, fearing some +stupidity in my middle years, but have changed two or three pages that I +always knew to be wrong in "The Wanderings of Usheen." + + W.B. YEATS. + + _June, 1912._ + + + + +PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION + + +I have added some passages to "The Land of Heart's Desire," and a new +scene of some little length, besides passages here and there, to "The +Countess Cathleen." The goddess has never come to me with her hands so +full that I have not found many waste places after I had planted all +that she had brought me. The present version of "The Countess Cathleen" +is not quite the version adopted by the Irish Literary Theatre a couple +of years ago, for our stage and scenery were capable of little; and it +may differ more from any stage version I make in future, for it seems +that my people of the waters and my unhappy dead, in the third act, +cannot keep their supernatural essence, but must put on too much of our +mortality, in any ordinary theatre. I am told that I must abandon a +meaning or two and make my merchants carry away the treasure +themselves. The act was written long ago, when I had seen so few plays +that I took pleasure in stage effects. Indeed, I am not yet certain that +a wealthy theatre could not shape it to an impressive pageantry, or that +a theatre without any wealth could not lift it out of pageantry into the +mind, with a dim curtain, and some dimly lighted players, and the +beautiful voices that should be as important in poetical as in musical +drama. The Elizabethan stage was so little imprisoned in material +circumstance that the Elizabethan imagination was not strained by god or +spirit, nor even by Echo herself--no, not even when she answered, as in +"The Duchess of Malfi," in clear, loud words which were not the words +that had been spoken to her. We have made a prison-house of paint and +canvas, where we have as little freedom as under our own roofs, for +there is no freedom in a house that has been made with hands. All art +moves in the cave of the Chimæra, or in the garden of the Hesperides, or +in the more silent house of the gods, and neither cave, nor garden, nor +house can show itself clearly but to the mind's eye. + +Besides rewriting a lyric or two, I have much enlarged the note on "The +Countess Cathleen," as there has been some discussion in Ireland about +the origin of the story, but the other notes are as they have always +been. They are short enough, but I do not think that anybody who knows +modern poetry will find obscurities in this book. In any case, I must +leave my myths and symbols to explain themselves as the years go by and +one poems lights up another, and the stories that friends, and one +friend in particular, have gathered for me, or that I have gathered +myself in many cottages, find their way into the light. I would, if I +could, add to that majestic heraldry of the poets, that great and +complicated inheritance of images which written literature has +substituted for the greater and more complex inheritance of spoken +tradition, some new heraldic images, gathered from the lips of the +common people. Christianity and the old nature faith have lain down side +by side in the cottages, and I would proclaim that peace as loudly as I +can among the kingdoms of poetry, where there is no peace that is not +joyous, no battle that does not give life instead of death; I may even +try to persuade others, in more sober prose, that there can be no +language more worthy of poetry and of the meditation of the soul than +that which has been made, or can be made, out of a subtlety of desire, +an emotion of sacrifice, a delight in order, that are perhaps +Christian, and myths and images that mirror the energies of woods and +streams, and of their wild creatures. Has any part of that majestic +heraldry of the poets had a very different fountain? Is it not the +ritual of the marriage of heaven and earth? + +These details may seem to many unnecessary; but after all one writes +poetry for a few careful readers and for a few friends, who will not +consider such details unnecessary. When Cimabue had the cry it was, it +seems, worth thinking of those that run; but to-day, when they can write +as well as read, one can sit with one's companions under the hedgerow +contentedly. If one writes well and has the patience, somebody will come +from among the runners and read what one has written quickly, and go +away quickly, and write out as much as he can remember in the language +of the highway. + + W.B. YEATS. + + _January, 1901._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + +THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN 1 + +THE ROSE-- + + To the Rose upon the Rood of Time 109 + + Fergus and the Druid 111 + + The Death of Cuchulain 114 + + The Rose of the World 119 + + The Rose of Peace 120 + + The Rose of Battle 121 + + A Faery Song 123 + + The Lake Isle of Innisfree 124 + + A Cradle Song 125 + + The Pity of Love 126 + + The Sorrow of Love 127 + + When You are Old 128 + + The White Birds 129 + + A Dream of Death 131 + + A Dream of a Blessed Spirit 132 + + Who goes with Fergus 133 + + The Man who Dreamed of Faeryland 134 + + The Dedication to a Book of Stories selected from + the Irish Novelists 137 + + The Lamentation of the Old Pensioner 139 + + The Ballad of Father Gilligan 140 + + The Two Trees 143 + + To Ireland in the Coming Times 145 + +THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE 149 + +CROSSWAYS-- + + The Song of the Happy Shepherd 197 + + The Sad Shepherd 200 + + The Cloak, The Boat, and the Shoes 202 + + Anashuya and Vijaya 203 + + The Indian upon God 209 + + The Indian to his Love 211 + + The Falling of the Leaves 213 + + Ephemera 214 + + The Madness of King Goll 216 + + The Stolen Child 220 + + To an Isle in the Water 223 + + Down by the Salley Gardens 224 + + The Meditation of the Old Fisherman 225 + + The Ballad of Father O'Hart 226 + + The Ballad of Moll Magee 229 + + The Ballad of the Foxhunter 232 + +THE WANDERINGS OF USHEEN 235 + +GLOSSARY AND NOTES 299 + + +_TO SOME I HAVE TALKED WITH BY THE FIRE_ + + + _While I wrought out these fitful Danaan rhymes, + My heart would brim with dreams about the times + When we bent down above the fading coals; + And talked of the dark folk, who live in souls + Of passionate men, like bats in the dead trees; + And of the wayward twilight companies, + Who sigh with mingled sorrow and content, + Because their blossoming dreams have never bent + Under the fruit of evil and of good: + And of the embattled flaming multitude + Who rise, wing above wing, flame above flame, + And, like a storm, cry the Ineffable Name, + And with the clashing of their sword blades make + A rapturous music, till the morning break, + And the white hush end all, but the loud beat + Of their long wings, the flash of their white feet._ + + + + +THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN + + + "The sorrowful are dumb for thee" + +_Lament of Morion Shehone for Miss Mary Bourke_ + + +TO + +MAUD GONNE + + + SHEMUS RUA A Peasant + + MARY His Wife + + TEIG His Son + + ALEEL A Poet + + THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN + + OONA Her Foster Mother + + Two Demons disguised as Merchants + + Peasants, Servants, Angelical Beings + + +_The Scene is laid in Ireland and in old times_ + + + + +SCENE I + + + SCENE.--_A room with lighted fire, and a door into the open air, + through which one sees, perhaps, the trees of a wood, and these + trees should be painted in flat colour upon a gold or diapered sky. + The walls are of one colour. The scent should have the effect of + missal painting._ MARY, a_ woman of forty years or so, is grinding + a quern_. + + + MARY + + What can have made the grey hen flutter so? + +(TEIG, _a boy of fourteen, is coming in with turf, which he lays beside +the hearth_.) + + TEIG + + They say that now the land is famine struck + The graves are walking. + + MARY + + There is something that the hen hears. + + TEIG + + And that is not the worst; at Tubber-vanach + A woman met a man with ears spread out, + And they moved up and down like a bat's wing. + + MARY + + What can have kept your father all this while? + + TEIG + + Two nights ago, at Carrick-orus churchyard, + A herdsman met a man who had no mouth, + Nor eyes, nor ears; his face a wall of flesh; + He saw him plainly by the light of the moon. + + MARY + + Look out, and tell me if your father's coming. + +(TEIG _goes to door_.) + + TEIG + + Mother! + + MARY + + What is it? + + TEIG + + In the bush beyond, + There are two birds--if you can call them birds-- + I could not see them rightly for the leaves. + But they've the shape and colour of horned owls + And I'm half certain they've a human face. + + MARY + + Mother of God, defend us! + + TEIG + + They're looking at me. + What is the good of praying? father says. + God and the Mother of God have dropped asleep. + What do they care, he says, though the whole land + Squeal like a rabbit under a weasel's tooth? + + MARY + + You'll bring misfortune with your blasphemies + Upon your father, or yourself, or me. + I would to God he were home--ah, there he is. + +(SHEMUS _comes in_.) + + What was it kept you in the wood? You know + I cannot get all sorts of accidents + Out of my mind till you are home again. + + SHEMUS + + I'm in no mood to listen to your clatter. + Although I tramped the woods for half a day, + I've taken nothing, for the very rats, + Badgers, and hedgehogs seem to have died of drought, + And there was scarce a wind in the parched leaves. + + TEIG + + Then you have brought no dinner. + + SHEMUS + + After that + I sat among the beggars at the cross-roads, + And held a hollow hand among the others. + + MARY + + What, did you beg? + + SHEMUS + + I had no chance to beg, + For when the beggars saw me they cried out + They would not have another share their alms, + And hunted me away with sticks and stones. + + TEIG + + You said that you would bring us food or money. + + SHEMUS + + What's in the house? + + TEIG + + A bit of mouldy bread. + + MARY + + There's flour enough to make another loaf. + + TEIG + + And when that's gone? + + MARY + + There is the hen in the coop. + + SHEMUS + + My curse upon the beggars, my curse upon them! + + TEIG + + And the last penny gone. + + SHEMUS + + When the hen's gone, + What can we do but live on sorrel and dock, + And dandelion, till our mouths are green? + + MARY + + God, that to this hour's found bit and sup, + Will cater for us still. + + SHEMUS + + His kitchen's bare. + There were five doors that I looked through this day + And saw the dead and not a soul to wake them. + + MARY + + Maybe He'd have us die because He knows, + When the ear is stopped and when the eye is stopped, + That every wicked sight is hid from the eye, + And all fool talk from the ear. + + SHEMUS + + Who's passing there? + And mocking us with music? + +(_A stringed instrument without._) + + TEIG + + A young man plays it, + There's an old woman and a lady with him. + + SHEMUS + + What is the trouble of the poor to her? + Nothing at all or a harsh radishy sauce + For the day's meat. + + MARY + + God's pity on the rich. + Had we been through as many doors, and seen + The dishes standing on the polished wood + In the wax candle light, we'd be as hard, + And there's the needle's eye at the end of all. + + SHEMUS + + My curse upon the rich. + + TEIG + + They're coming here. + + SHEMUS + + Then down upon that stool, down quick, I say, + And call up a whey face and a whining voice, + And let your head be bowed upon your knees. + + MARY + + Had I but time to put the place to rights. + +(CATHLEEN, OONA, _and_ ALEEL _enter_.) + + CATHLEEN + + God save all here. There is a certain house, + An old grey castle with a kitchen garden, + A cider orchard and a plot for flowers, + Somewhere among these woods. + + MARY + + We know it, lady. + A place that's set among impassable walls + As though world's trouble could not find it out. + + CATHLEEN + + It may be that we are that trouble, for we-- + Although we've wandered in the wood this hour-- + Have lost it too, yet I should know my way, + For I lived all my childhood in that house. + + MARY + + Then you are Countess Cathleen? + + CATHLEEN + + And this woman, + Oona, my nurse, should have remembered it, + For we were happy for a long time there. + + OONA + + The paths are overgrown with thickets now, + Or else some change has come upon my sight. + + CATHLEEN + + And this young man, that should have known the woods-- + Because we met him on their border but now, + Wandering and singing like a wave of the sea-- + Is so wrapped up in dreams of terrors to come + That he can give no help. + + MARY + + You have still some way, + But I can put you on the trodden path + Your servants take when they are marketing. + But first sit down and rest yourself awhile, + For my old fathers served your fathers, lady, + Longer than books can tell--and it were strange + If you and yours should not be welcome here. + + CATHLEEN + + And it were stranger still were I ungrateful + For such kind welcome--but I must be gone, + For the night's gathering in. + + SHEMUS + + It is a long while + Since I've set eyes on bread or on what buys it. + + CATHLEEN + + So you are starving even in this wood, + Where I had thought I would find nothing changed. + But that's a dream, for the old worm o' the world + Can eat its way into what place it pleases. + +(_She gives money._) + + TEIG + + Beautiful lady, give me something too; + I fell but now, being weak with hunger and thirst + And lay upon the threshold like a log. + + CATHLEEN + + I gave for all and that was all I had. + Look, my purse is empty. I have passed + By starving men and women all this day, + And they have had the rest; but take the purse, + The silver clasps on't may be worth a trifle. + But if you'll come to-morrow to my house + You shall have twice the sum. + +(ALEEL _begins to play_.) + + SHEMUS (_muttering_) + + What, music, music! + + CATHLEEN + + Ah, do not blame the finger on the string; + The doctors bid me fly the unlucky times + And find distraction for my thoughts, or else + Pine to my grave. + + SHEMUS + + I have said nothing, lady. + Why should the like of us complain? + + OONA + + Have done. + Sorrows that she's but read of in a book + Weigh on her mind as if they had been her own. + +(OONA, MARY, and CATHLEEN _go out_. ALEEL _looks defiantly at_ SHEMUS.) + + ALEEL (_singing_) + + Were I but crazy for love's sake + I know who'd measure out his length, + I know the heads that I should break, + For crazy men have double strength. + There! all's out now to leave or take, + And who mocks music mocks at love; + And when I'm crazy for love's sake + I'll not go far to choose. + +(_Snapping his fingers in_ SHEMUS' _face_.) + + Enough! + I know the heads that I shall break. + +(_He takes a step towards the door and then turns again._) + + Shut to the door before the night has fallen, + For who can say what walks, or in what shape + Some devilish creature flies in the air, but now + Two grey-horned owls hooted above our heads. + +(_He goes out, his singing dies away._ MARY _comes in_. SHEMUS _has been +counting the money._) + + SHEMUS + + So that fool's gone. + + TEIG + + He's seen the horned owls too. + There's no good luck in owls, but it may be + That the ill luck's to fall upon his head. + + MARY + + You never thanked her ladyship. + + SHEMUS + + Thank her, + For seven halfpence and a silver bit? + + TEIG + + But for this empty purse? + + SHEMUS + + What's that for thanks, + Or what's the double of it that she promised? + With bread and flesh and every sort of food + Up to a price no man has heard the like of + And rising every day. + + MARY + + We have all she had; + She emptied out the purse before our eyes. + + SHEMUS (_to_ MARY, _who has gone to close the door_) + + Leave that door open. + + MARY + + When those that have read books, + And seen the seven wonders of the world, + Fear what's above or what's below the ground, + It's time that poverty should bolt the door. + + SHEMUS + + I'll have no bolts, for there is not a thing + That walks above the ground or under it + I had not rather welcome to this house + Than any more of mankind, rich or poor. + + TEIG + + So that they brought us money. + + SHEMUS + + I heard say + There's something that appears like a white bird, + A pigeon or a seagull or the like, + But if you hit it with a stone or a stick + It clangs as though it had been made of brass, + And that if you dig down where it was scratching + You'll find a crock of gold. + + TEIG + + But dream of gold + For three nights running, and there's always gold. + + SHEMUS + + You might be starved before you've dug it out. + + TEIG + + But maybe if you called, something would come, + They have been seen of late. + + MARY + + Is it call devils? + Call devils from the wood, call them in here? + + SHEMUS + + So you'd stand up against me, and you'd say + Who or what I am to welcome here. (_He hits her._) + That is to show who's master. + + TEIG + + Call them in. + + MARY + + God help us all! + + SHEMUS + + Pray, if you have a mind to. + It's little that the sleepy ears above + Care for your words; but I'll call what I please. + + TEIG + + There is many a one, they say, had money from them. + + SHEMUS (_at door_) + + Whatever you are that walk the woods at night, + So be it that you have not shouldered up + Out of a grave--for I'll have nothing human-- + And have free hands, a friendly trick of speech, + I welcome you. Come, sit beside the fire. + What matter if your head's below your arms + Or you've a horse's tail to whip your flank, + Feathers instead of hair, that's but a straw, + Come, share what bread and meat is in the house, + And stretch your heels and warm them in the ashes. + And after that, let's share and share alike + And curse all men and women. Come in, come in. + What, is there no one there? (_Turning from door_) + And yet they say + They are as common as the grass, and ride + Even upon the book in the priest's hand. + + (TEIG _lifts one arm slowly and points toward the door and begins + moving backwards_. SHEMUS _turns, he also sees something and begins + moving backward_. MARY _does the same. A man dressed as an Eastern + merchant comes in carrying a small carpet. He unrolls it and sits + cross-legged at one end of it. Another man dressed in the same way + follows, and sits at the other end. This is done slowly and + deliberately. When they are seated they take money out of + embroidered purses at their girdles and begin arranging it on the + carpet_.) + + TEIG + + You speak to them. + + SHEMUS + + No, you. + + TEIG + + 'Twas you that called them. + + SHEMUS (_coming nearer_) + + I'd make so bold, if you would pardon it, + To ask if there's a thing you'd have of us. + Although we are but poor people, if there is, + Why, if there is---- + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We've travelled a long road, + For we are merchants that must tramp the world, + And now we look for supper and a fire + And a safe corner to count money in. + + SHEMUS + + I thought you were ... but that's no matter now-- + There had been words between my wife and me + Because I said I would be master here, + And ask in what I pleased or who I pleased + And so.... but that is nothing to the point, + Because it's certain that you are but merchants. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We travel for the Master of all merchants. + + SHEMUS + + Yet if you were that I had thought but now + I'd welcome you no less. Be what you please + And you'll have supper at the market rate, + That means that what was sold for but a penny + Is now worth fifty. + +(MERCHANTS _begin putting money on carpet_.) + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Our Master bids us pay + So good a price, that all who deal with us + Shall eat, drink, and be merry. + + SHEMUS (_to_ MARY) + + Bestir yourself, + Go kill and draw the fowl, while Teig and I + Lay out the plates and make a better fire. + + MARY + + I will not cook for you. + + SHEMUS + + Not cook! not cook! + Do not be angry. She wants to pay me back + Because I struck her in that argument. + But she'll get sense again. Since the dearth came + We rattle one on another as though we were + Knives thrown into a basket to be cleaned. + + MARY + + I will not cook for you, because I know + In what unlucky shape you sat but now + Outside this door. + + TEIG + + It's this, your honours: + Because of some wild words my father said + She thinks you are not of those who cast a shadow. + + SHEMUS + + I said I'd make the devils of the wood + Welcome, if they'd a mind to eat and drink; + But it is certain that you are men like us. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + It's strange that she should think we cast no shadow, + For there is nothing on the ridge of the world + That's more substantial than the merchants are + That buy and sell you. + + MARY + + If you are not demons, + And seeing what great wealth is spread out there, + Give food or money to the starving poor. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + If we knew how to find deserving poor + We'd do our share. + + MARY + + But seek them patiently. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We know the evils of mere charity. + + MARY + + Those scruples may befit a common time. + I had thought there was a pushing to and fro, + At times like this, that overset the scale + And trampled measure down. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + But if already + We'd thought of a more prudent way than that? + + SECOND MERCHANT + + If each one brings a bit of merchandise, + We'll give him such a price he never dreamt of. + + MARY + + Where shall the starving come at merchandise? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We will ask nothing but what all men have. + + MARY + + Their swine and cattle, fields and implements + Are sold and gone. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + They have not sold all yet. + For there's a vaporous thing--that may be nothing, + But that's the buyer's risk--a second self, + They call immortal for a story's sake. + + SHEMUS + + They come to buy our souls? + + TEIG + + I'll barter mine. + Why should we starve for what may be but nothing? + + MARY + + Teig and Shemus---- + + SHEMUS + + What can it be but nothing? + What has God poured out of His bag but famine? + Satan gives money. + + TEIG + + Yet no thunder stirs. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + There is a heap for each. + +(SHEMUS _goes to take money_.) + + But no, not yet, + For there's a work I have to set you to. + + SHEMUS + + So then you're as deceitful as the rest, + And all that talk of buying what's but a vapour + Is fancy bread. I might have known as much, + Because that's how the trick-o'-the-loop man talks. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + That's for the work, each has its separate price; + But neither price is paid till the work's done. + + TEIG + + The same for me. + + MARY + + Oh, God, why are you still? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + You've but to cry aloud at every cross-road, + At every house door, that we buy men's souls. + And give so good a price that all may live + In mirth and comfort till the famine's done, + Because we are Christian men. + + SHEMUS + + Come, let's away. + + TEIG + + I shall keep running till I've earned the price. + + SECOND MERCHANT + +(_who has risen and gone towards fire_) + + Stop; you must have proof behind the words. + So here's your entertainment on the road. + +(_He throws a bag of money on the ground._) + + Live as you please; our Master's generous. + +(TEIG and SHEMUS _have stopped_. TEIG _takes the money. They go out._) + + MARY + + Destroyers of souls, God will destroy you quickly. + You shall at last dry like dry leaves and hang + Nailed like dead vermin to the doors of God. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Curse to your fill, for saints will have their dreams. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Though we're but vermin that our Master sent + To overrun the world, he at the end + Shall pull apart the pale ribs of the moon + And quench the stars in the ancestral night. + + MARY + + God is all powerful. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Pray, you shall need Him. + You shall eat dock and grass, and dandelion, + Till that low threshold there becomes a wall, + And when your hands can scarcely drag your body + We shall be near you. + +(MARY _faints_.) + +(_The_ FIRST MERCHANT _takes up the carpet, spreads it before the fire +and stands in front of it warming his hands_.) + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Our faces go unscratched, + Wring the neck o' that fowl, scatter the flour + And look if there is bread upon the shelves. + We'll turn the fowl upon the spit and roast it, + And eat the supper we were bidden to, + Now that the house is quiet, praise our Master, + And stretch and warm our heels among the ashes. + +END OF SCENE I. + + + + +SCENE II + + + FRONT SCENE.--_A wood with perhaps distant view of turreted house + at one side, but all in flat colour, without light and shade and + against a diapered or gold background._ + +COUNTESS CATHLEEN _comes in leaning upon_ ALEEL'S _arm_. OONA _follows +them_. + + CATHLEEN (_stopping_) + + Surely this leafy corner, where one smells + The wild bee's honey, has a story too? + + OONA + + There is the house at last. + + ALEEL + + A man, they say, + Loved Maeve the Queen of all the invisible host, + And died of his love nine centuries ago. + And now, when the moon's riding at the full, + She leaves her dancers lonely and lies there + Upon that level place, and for three days + Stretches and sighs and wets her long pale cheeks. + + CATHLEEN + + So she loves truly. + + ALEEL + + No, but wets her cheeks, + Lady, because she has forgot his name. + + CATHLEEN + + She'd sleep that trouble away--though it must be + A heavy trouble to forget his name-- + If she had better sense. + + OONA + + Your own house, lady. + + ALEEL + + She sleeps high up on wintry Knock-na-rea + In an old cairn of stones; while her poor women + Must lie and jog in the wave if they would sleep-- + Being water born--yet if she cry their names + They run up on the land and dance in the moon + Till they are giddy and would love as men do, + And be as patient and as pitiful. + But there is nothing that will stop in their heads + They've such poor memories, though they weep for it. + Oh, yes, they weep; that's when the moon is full. + + CATHLEEN + + Is it because they have short memories + They live so long? + + ALEEL + + What's memory but the ash + That chokes our fires that have begun to sink? + And they've a dizzy, everlasting fire. + + OONA + + There is your own house, lady. + + CATHLEEN + + Why, that's true, + And we'd have passed it without noticing. + + ALEEL + + A curse upon it for a meddlesome house! + Had it but stayed away I would have known + What Queen Maeve thinks on when the moon is pinched; + And whether now--as in the old days--the dancers + Set their brief love on men. + + OONA + + Rest on my arm. + These are no thoughts for any Christian ear. + + ALEEL + + I am younger, she would be too heavy for you. + +(_He begins taking his lute out of the bag_, CATHLEEN, _who has turned +towards_ OONA, _turns back to him_.) + + This hollow box remembers every foot + That danced upon the level grass of the world, + And will tell secrets if I whisper to it. + +(_Sings._) + + Lift up the white knee; + Hear what they sing, + Those young dancers + That in a ring + Raved but now + Of the hearts that brake + Long, long ago + For their sake. + + OONA + + New friends are sweet. + + ALEEL + + "But the dance changes. + Lift up the gown, + All that sorrow + Is trodden down." + + OONA + + The empty rattle-pate! Lean on this arm, + That I can tell you is a christened arm, + And not like some, if we are to judge by speech. + But as you please. It is time I was forgot. + Maybe it is not on this arm you slumbered + When you were as helpless as a worm. + + ALEEL + + Stay with me till we come to your own house. + + CATHLEEN (_sitting down_) + + When I am rested I will need no help. + + ALEEL + + I thought to have kept her from remembering + The evil of the times for full ten minutes; + But now when seven are out you come between. + + OONA + + Talk on; what does it matter what you say, + For you have not been christened? + + ALEEL + + Old woman, old woman, + You robbed her of three minutes peace of mind, + And though you live unto a hundred years, + And wash the feet of beggars and give alms, + And climb Croaghpatrick, you shall not be pardoned. + + OONA + + How does a man who never was baptized + Know what Heaven pardons? + + ALEEL + + You are a sinful woman. + + OONA + + I care no more than if a pig had grunted. + +(_Enter_ CATHLEEN'S _Steward_.) + + STEWARD + + I am not to blame, for I had locked the gate, + The forester's to blame. The men climbed in + At the east corner where the elm-tree is. + + CATHLEEN + + I do not understand you, who has climbed? + + STEWARD + + Then God be thanked, I am the first to tell you. + I was afraid some other of the servants-- + Though I've been on the watch--had been the first, + And mixed up truth and lies, your ladyship. + + CATHLEEN (_rising_) + + Has some misfortune happened? + + STEWARD + + Yes, indeed. + The forester that let the branches lie + Against the wall's to blame for everything, + For that is how the rogues got into the garden. + + CATHLEEN + + I thought to have escaped misfortune here. + Has any one been killed? + + STEWARD + + Oh, no, not killed. + They have stolen half a cart-load of green cabbage. + + CATHLEEN + + But maybe they were starving. + + STEWARD + + That is certain. + To rob or starve, that was the choice they had. + + CATHLEEN + + A learned theologian has laid down + That starving men may take what's necessary, + And yet be sinless. + + OONA + + Sinless and a thief! + There should be broken bottles on the wall. + + CATHLEEN + + And if it be a sin, while faith's unbroken + God cannot help but pardon. There is no soul + But it's unlike all others in the world, + Nor one but lifts a strangeness to God's love + Till that's grown infinite, and therefore none + Whose loss were less than irremediable + Although it were the wickedest in the world. + +(_Enter_ TEIG _and_ SHEMUS.) + + STEWARD + + What are you running for? Pull off your cap, + Do you not see who's there? + + SHEMUS + + I cannot wait. + I am running to the world with the best news + That has been brought it for a thousand years. + + STEWARD + + Then get your breath and speak. + + SHEMUS + + If you'd my news + You'd run as fast and be as out of breath. + + TEIG + + Such news, we shall be carried on men's shoulders. + + SHEMUS + + There's something every man has carried with him + And thought no more about than if it were + A mouthful of the wind; and now it's grown + A marketable thing! + + TEIG + + And yet it seemed + As useless as the paring of one's nails. + + SHEMUS + + What sets me laughing when I think of it, + Is that a rogue who's lain in lousy straw, + If he but sell it, may set up his coach. + + TEIG (_laughing_) + + There are two gentlemen who buy men's souls. + + CATHLEEN + + O God! + + TEIG + + And maybe there's no soul at all. + + STEWARD + + They're drunk or mad. + + TEIG + + Look at the price they give. + +(_Showing money._) + + SHEMUS (_tossing up money_) + + "Go cry it all about the world," they said. + "Money for souls, good money for a soul." + + CATHLEEN + + Give twice and thrice and twenty times their money, + And get your souls again. I will pay all. + + SHEMUS + + Not we! not we! For souls--if there are souls-- + But keep the flesh out of its merriment. + I shall be drunk and merry. + + TEIG + + Come, let's away. + +(_He goes._) + + CATHLEEN + + But there's a world to come. + + SHEMUS + + And if there is, + I'd rather trust myself into the hands + That can pay money down than to the hands + That have but shaken famine from the bag. + +(_He goes out_ R.) + +(_Lilting_) + + "There's money for a soul, sweet yellow money. + There's money for men's souls, good money, money." + + CATHLEEN (_to_ ALEEL) + + Go call them here again, bring them by force, + Beseech them, bribe, do anything you like; + +(ALEEL _goes_.) + + And you too follow, add your prayers to his. + +(OONA, _who has been praying, goes out_.) + + Steward, you know the secrets of my house. + How much have I? + + STEWARD + + A hundred kegs of gold. + + CATHLEEN + + How much have I in castles? + + STEWARD + + As much more. + + CATHLEEN + + How much have I in pasture? + + STEWARD + + As much more. + + CATHLEEN + + How much have I in forests? + + STEWARD + + As much more. + + CATHLEEN + + Keeping this house alone, sell all I have, + Go barter where you please, but come again + With herds of cattle and with ships of meal. + + STEWARD + + God's blessing light upon your ladyship. + You will have saved the land. + + CATHLEEN + + Make no delay. + +(_He goes_ L.) + +(ALEEL _and_ OONA _return_) + + CATHLEEN + + They have not come; speak quickly. + + ALEEL + + One drew his knife + And said that he would kill the man or woman + That stopped his way; and when I would have stopped him + He made this stroke at me; but it is nothing. + + CATHLEEN + + You shall be tended. From this day for ever + I'll have no joy or sorrow of my own. + + OONA + + Their eyes shone like the eyes of birds of prey. + + CATHLEEN + + Come, follow me, for the earth burns my feet + Till I have changed my house to such a refuge + That the old and ailing, and all weak of heart, + May escape from beak and claw; all, all, shall come + Till the walls burst and the roof fall on us. + From this day out I have nothing of my own. + +(_She goes._) + + OONA (_taking_ ALEEL _by the arm and as she speaks bandaging his wound_) + + She has found something now to put her hand to, + And you and I are of no more account + Than flies upon a window-pane in the winter. + +(_They go out._) + +END OF SCENE II. + + + + +SCENE III + + + SCENE.--_Hall in the house of_ COUNTESS CATHLEEN. _At the Left an + oratory with steps leading up to it. At the Right a tapestried + wall, more or less repeating the form of the oratory, and a great + chair with its back against the wall. In the Centre are two or more + arches through which one can see dimly the trees of the garden._ + CATHLEEN _is kneeling in front of the altar in the oratory; there + is a hanging lighted lamp over the altar_. ALEEL _enters_. + + ALEEL + + I have come to bid you leave this castle and fly + Out of these woods. + + CATHLEEN + + What evil is there here + That is not everywhere from this to the sea? + + ALEEL + + They who have sent me walk invisible. + + CATHLEEN + + So it is true what I have heard men say, + That you have seen and heard what others cannot. + + ALEEL + + I was asleep in my bed, and while I slept + My dream became a fire; and in the fire + One walked and he had birds about his head. + + CATHLEEN + + I have heard that one of the old gods walked so. + + ALEEL + + It may be that he is angelical; + And, lady, he bids me call you from these woods. + And you must bring but your old foster-mother, + And some few serving men, and live in the hills, + Among the sounds of music and the light + Of waters, till the evil days are done. + For here some terrible death is waiting you, + Some unimagined evil, some great darkness + That fable has not dreamt of, nor sun nor moon + Scattered. + + CATHLEEN + + No, not angelical. + + ALEEL + + This house + You are to leave with some old trusty man, + And bid him shelter all that starve or wander + While there is food and house room. + + CATHLEEN + + He bids me go + Where none of mortal creatures but the swan + Dabbles, and there you would pluck the harp, when the trees + Had made a heavy shadow about our door, + And talk among the rustling of the reeds, + When night hunted the foolish sun away + With stillness and pale tapers. No--no--no! + I cannot. Although I weep, I do not weep + Because that life would be most happy, and here + I find no way, no end. Nor do I weep + Because I had longed to look upon your face, + But that a night of prayer has made me weary. + + ALEEL (_prostrating himself before her_) + + Let Him that made mankind, the angels and devils + And dearth and plenty, mend what He has made, + For when we labour in vain and eye still sees + Heart breaks in vain. + + CATHLEEN + + How would that quiet end? + + ALEEL + + How but in healing? + + CATHLEEN + + You have seen my tears + And I can see your hand shake on the floor. + + ALEEL (_faltering_) + + I thought but of healing. He was angelical. + + CATHLEEN (_turning away from him_) + + No, not angelical, but of the old gods, + Who wander about the world to waken the heart-- + The passionate, proud heart--that all the angels, + Leaving nine heavens empty, would rock to sleep. + +(_She goes to chapel door;_ ALEEL _holds his clasped hands towards her +for a moment hesitatingly, and then lets them fall beside him_.) + + CATHLEEN + + Do not hold out to me beseeching hands. + This heart shall never waken on earth. I have sworn, + By her whose heart the seven sorrows have pierced, + To pray before this altar until my heart + Has grown to Heaven like a tree, and there + Rustled its leaves, till Heaven has saved my people. + + ALEEL (_who has risen_) + + When one so great has spoken of love to one + So little as I, though to deny him love, + What can he but hold out beseeching hands, + Then let them fall beside him, knowing how greatly + They have overdared? + +(_He goes towards the door of the hall._ _The_ COUNTESS CATHLEEN _takes +a few steps towards him_.) + + CATHLEEN + + If the old tales are true, + Queens have wed shepherds and kings beggar-maids; + God's procreant waters flowing about your mind + Have made you more than kings or queens; and not you + But I am the empty pitcher. + + ALEEL + + Being silent, + I have said all, yet let me stay beside you. + + CATHLEEN + + No, no, not while my heart is shaken. No, + But you shall hear wind cry and water cry, + And curlew cry, and have the peace I longed for. + + ALEEL + + Give me your hand to kiss. + + CATHLEEN + + I kiss your forehead. + And yet I send you from me. Do not speak; + There have been women that bid men to rob + Crowns from the Country-under-Wave or apples + Upon a dragon-guarded hill, and all + That they might sift men's hearts and wills, + And trembled as they bid it, as I tremble + That lay a hard task on you, that you go, + And silently, and do not turn your head; + Goodbye; but do not turn your head and look; + Above all else, I would not have you look. + +(ALEEL _goes_.) + + I never spoke to him of his wounded hand, + And now he is gone. (_She looks out._) + I cannot see him, for all is dark outside. + Would my imagination and my heart + Were as little shaken as this holy flame! + +(_She goes slowly into the chapel. The distant sound of an alarm bell._ +_The two_ MERCHANTS _enter hurriedly_.) + + SECOND MERCHANT + + They are ringing the alarm, and in a moment + They'll be upon us. + + FIRST MERCHANT (_going to a door at the side_) + + Here is the Treasury, + You'd my commands to put them all to sleep. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Some angel or else her prayers protected them. + +(_Goes into the Treasury and returns with bags of treasure._ FIRST +MERCHANT _has been listening at the oratory door_.) + + FIRST MERCHANT + + She has fallen asleep. + +(SECOND MERCHANT _goes out through one of the arches at the back and +stands listening. The bags are at his feet._) + + SECOND MERCHANT + + We've all the treasure now, + So let's away before they've tracked us out. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + I have a plan to win her. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + You have time enough + If you would kill her and bear off her soul + Before they are upon us with their prayers; + They search the Western Tower. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + That may not be. + We cannot face the heavenly host in arms. + Her soul must come to us of its own will, + But being of the ninth and mightiest Hell + Where all are kings, I have a plan to win it. + Lady, we've news that's crying out for speech. + +(CATHLEEN _wakes and comes to door of chapel_.) + + CATHLEEN + + Who calls? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We have brought news. + + CATHLEEN + + What are you? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We are merchants, and we know the book of the world + Because we have walked upon its leaves; and there + Have read of late matters that much concern you; + And noticing the castle door stand open, + Came in to find an ear. + + CATHLEEN + + The door stands open, + That no one who is famished or afraid, + Despair of help or of a welcome with it. + But you have news, you say. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We saw a man, + Heavy with sickness in the bog of Allen, + Whom you had bid buy cattle. Near Fair Head + We saw your grain ships lying all becalmed + In the dark night; and not less still than they, + Burned all their mirrored lanthorns in the sea. + + CATHLEEN + + My thanks to God, to Mary and the angels, + That I have money in my treasury, + And can buy grain from those who have stored it up + To prosper on the hunger of the poor. + But you've been far and know the signs of things, + When will this famine end? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Day copies day, + And there's no sign of change, nor can it change, + With the wheat withered and the cattle dead. + + CATHLEEN + + And heard you of the demons who buy souls? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + There are some men who hold they have wolves' heads, + And say their limbs--dried by the infinite flame-- + Have all the speed of storms; others, again, + Say they are gross and little; while a few + Will have it they seem much as mortals are, + But tall and brown and travelled--like us, lady-- + Yet all agree a power is in their looks + That makes men bow, and flings a casting-net + About their souls, and that all men would go + And barter those poor vapours, were it not + You bribe them with the safety of your gold. + + CATHLEEN + + Praise be to God, to Mary, and the angels + That I am wealthy! Wherefore do they sell? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + As we came in at the great door we saw + Your porter sleeping in his niche--a soul + Too little to be worth a hundred pence, + And yet they buy it for a hundred crowns. + But for a soul like yours, I heard them say, + They would give five hundred thousand crowns and more. + + CATHLEEN + + How can a heap of crowns pay for a soul? + Is the green grave so terrible a thing? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Some sell because the money gleams, and some + Because they are in terror of the grave, + And some because their neighbours sold before, + And some because there is a kind of joy + In casting hope away, in losing joy, + In ceasing all resistance, in at last + Opening one's arms to the eternal flames, + In casting all sails out upon the wind; + To this--full of the gaiety of the lost-- + Would all folk hurry if your gold were gone. + + CATHLEEN + + There is a something, Merchant, in your voice + That makes me fear. When you were telling how + A man may lose his soul and lose his God + Your eyes were lighted up, and when you told + How my poor money serves the people, both-- + Merchants forgive me--seemed to smile. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + I laugh + To think that all these people should be swung + As on a lady's shoe-string,--under them + The glowing leagues of never-ending flame. + + CATHLEEN + + There is a something in you that I fear; + A something not of us; were you not born + In some most distant corner of the world? + +(_The_ SECOND MERCHANT, _who has been listening at the door, comes +forward, and as he comes a sound of voices and feet is heard_.) + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Away now--they are in the passage--hurry, + For they will know us, and freeze up our hearts + With Ave Marys, and burn all our skin + With holy water. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Farewell; for we must ride + Many a mile before the morning come; + Our horses beat the ground impatiently. + +(_They go out._ _A number of_ PEASANTS _enter by other door_.) + + FIRST PEASANT + + Forgive us, lady, but we heard a noise. + + SECOND PEASANT + + We sat by the fireside telling vanities. + + FIRST PEASANT + + We heard a noise, but though we have searched the house + We have found nobody. + + CATHLEEN + + You are too timid, + For now you are safe from all the evil times, + There is no evil that can find you here. + + OONA (_entering hurriedly_) + + Ochone! Ochone! The treasure room is broken in. + The door stands open, and the gold is gone. + +(PEASANTS _raise a lamentable cry_.) + + CATHLEEN + + Be silent. (_The cry ceases._) Have you seen nobody? + + OONA + + Ochone! + That my good mistress should lose all this money. + + CATHLEEN + + Let those among you--not too old to ride-- + Get horses and search all the country round, + I'll give a farm to him who finds the thieves. + +(_A man with keys at his girdle has come in while she speaks. There is a +general murmur of "The porter! the porter!"_) + + PORTER + + Demons were here. I sat beside the door + In my stone niche, and two owls passed me by, + Whispering with human voices. + + OLD PEASANT + + God forsakes us. + + CATHLEEN + + Old man, old man, He never closed a door + Unless one opened. I am desolate, + Because of a strange thought that's in my heart; + But I have still my faith; therefore be silent; + For surely He does not forsake the world, + But stands before it modelling in the clay + And moulding there His image. Age by age + The clay wars with His fingers and pleads hard + For its old, heavy, dull and shapeless ease; + But sometimes--though His hand is on it still-- + It moves awry and demon hordes are born. + +(PEASANTS _cross themselves_.) + + Yet leave me now, for I am desolate, + I hear a whisper from beyond the thunder. + +(_She comes from the oratory door._) + + Yet stay an instant. When we meet again + I may have grown forgetful. Oona, take + These two--the larder and the dairy keys. + +(_To the_ PORTER.) + + But take you this. It opens the small room + Of herbs for medicine, of hellebore, + Of vervain, monkshood, plantain, and self-heal. + The book of cures is on the upper shelf. + + PORTER + + Why do you do this, lady; did you see + Your coffin in a dream? + + CATHLEEN + + Ah, no, not that. + But I have come to a strange thought. I have heard + A sound of wailing in unnumbered hovels, + And I must go down, down--I know not where-- + Pray for all men and women mad from famine; + Pray, you good neighbours. + +(_The_ PEASANTS _all kneel_. COUNTESS CATHLEEN _ascends the steps to the +door of the oratory, and turning round stands there motionless for a +little, and then cries in a loud voice_:) + + Mary, Queen of angels, + And all you clouds on clouds of saints, farewell! + +END OF SCENE III. + + + + +SCENE IV + + + SCENE.--_A wood near the Castle, as in Scene II. A group of_ + PEASANTS _pass_. + + FIRST PEASANT + + I have seen silver and copper, but not gold. + + SECOND PEASANT + + It's yellow and it shines. + + FIRST PEASANT + + It's beautiful. + The most beautiful thing under the sun, + That's what I've heard. + + THIRD PEASANT + + I have seen gold enough. + + FOURTH PEASANT + + I would not say that it's so beautiful. + + FIRST PEASANT + + But doesn't a gold piece glitter like the sun? + That's what my father, who'd seen better days, + Told me when I was but a little boy-- + So high--so high, it's shining like the sun, + Round and shining, that is what he said. + + SECOND PEASANT + + There's nothing in the world it cannot buy. + + FIRST PEASANT + + They've bags and bags of it. + +(_They go out._ _The two_ MERCHANTS _follow silently_. _Then_ ALEEL +_passes over the stage singing_.) + + ALEEL + + Impetuous heart be still, be still, + Your sorrowful love can never be told, + Cover it up with a lonely tune. + He who could bend all things to His will + Has covered the door of the infinite fold + With the pale stars and the wandering moon. + +END OF SCENE IV. + + + + +SCENE V + + + SCENE.--_The house of_ SHEMUS RUA. _There is an alcove at the back + with curtains; in it a bed, and on the bed is the body of_ MARY + _with candles round it_. _The two_ MERCHANTS _while they speak put + a large book upon a table, arrange money, and so on_. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Thanks to that lie I told about her ships + And that about the herdsman lying sick, + We shall be too much thronged with souls to-morrow. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + What has she in her coffers now but mice? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + When the night fell and I had shaped myself + Into the image of the man-headed owl, + I hurried to the cliffs of Donegal, + And saw with all their canvas full of wind + And rushing through the parti-coloured sea + Those ships that bring the woman grain and meal. + They're but three days from us. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + When the dew rose + I hurried in like feathers to the east, + And saw nine hundred oxen driven through Meath + With goads of iron. They're but three days from us. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Three days for traffic. + +(PEASANTS _crowd in with_ TEIG _and_ SHEMUS.) + + SHEMUS + + Come in, come in, you are welcome. + That is my wife. She mocked at my great masters, + And would not deal with them. Now there she is; + She does not even know she was a fool, + So great a fool she was. + + TEIG + + She would not eat + One crumb of bread bought with our master's money, + But lived on nettles, dock, and dandelion. + + SHEMUS + + There's nobody could put into her head + That Death is the worst thing can happen us. + Though that sounds simple, for her tongue grew rank + With all the lies that she had heard in chapel. + Draw to the curtain. (TEIG _draws it_.) You'll not play the fool + While these good gentlemen are there to save you. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Since the drought came they drift about in a throng, + Like autumn leaves blown by the dreary winds. + Come, deal--come, deal. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Who will come deal with us? + + SHEMUS + + They are out of spirit, sir, with lack of food, + Save four or five. Here, sir, is one of these; + The others will gain courage in good time. + + MIDDLE-AGED-MAN + + I come to deal--if you give honest price. + + FIRST MERCHANT (_reading in a book_) + + "John Maher, a man of substance, with dull mind, + And quiet senses and unventurous heart. + The angels think him safe." Two hundred crowns, + All for a soul, a little breath of wind. + + THE MAN + + I ask three hundred crowns. You have read there + That no mere lapse of days can make me yours. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + There is something more writ here--"Often at night + He is wakeful from a dread of growing poor, + And thereon wonders if there's any man + That he could rob in safety." + + A PEASANT + + Who'd have thought it? + And I was once alone with him at midnight. + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + I will not trust my mother after this. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + There is this crack in you--two hundred crowns. + + A PEASANT + + That's plenty for a rogue. + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + I'd give him nothing. + + SHEMUS + + You'll get no more--so take what's offered you. + +(_A general murmur, during which the_ MIDDLE-AGED MAN _takes money, and +slips into background, where he sinks on to a seat_.) + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Has no one got a better soul than that? + If only for the credit of your parishes, + Traffic with us. + + A WOMAN + + What will you give for mine? + + FIRST MERCHANT (_reading in book_) + + "Soft, handsome, and still young"--not much, I think. + "It's certain that the man she's married to + Knows nothing of what's hidden in the jar + Between the hour-glass and the pepper-pot." + + THE WOMAN + + The scandalous book. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + "Nor how when he's away + At the horse fair the hand that wrote what's hid + Will tap three times upon the window-pane." + + THE WOMAN + + And if there is a letter, that is no reason + Why I should have less money than the others. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + You're almost safe, I give you fifty crowns. + +(_She turns to go._) + + A hundred, then. + + SHEMUS + + Woman, have sense--come, come. + Is this a time to haggle at the price? + There, take it up. There, there. That's right. + +(_She takes them and goes into the crowd._) + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Come, deal, deal, deal. It is but for charity + We buy such souls at all; a thousand sins + Made them our Master's long before we came. + +(ALEEL _enters_.) + + ALEEL + + Here, take my soul, for I am tired of it. + I do not ask a price. + + SHEMUS + + Not ask a price? + How can you sell your soul without a price? + I would not listen to his broken wits; + His love for Countess Cathleen has so crazed him + He hardly understands what he is saying. + + ALEEL + + The trouble that has come on Countess Cathleen, + The sorrow that is in her wasted face, + The burden in her eyes, have broke my wits, + And yet I know I'd have you take my soul. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We cannot take your soul, for it is hers. + + ALEEL + + No, but you must. Seeing it cannot help her + I have grown tired of it. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Begone from me, + I may not touch it. + + ALEEL + + Is your power so small? + And must I bear it with me all my days? + May you be scorned and mocked! + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Drag him away. + He troubles me. + +(TEIG _and_ SHEMUS _lead_ ALEEL _into the crowd_.) + + SECOND MERCHANT + + His gaze has filled me, brother, + With shaking and a dreadful fear. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Lean forward + And kiss the circlet where my Master's lips + Were pressed upon it when he sent us hither; + You shall have peace once more. + +(SECOND MERCHANT _kisses the gold circlet that is about the head of the_ +FIRST MERCHANT.) + + I, too, grow weary, + But there is something moving in my heart + Whereby I know that what we seek the most + Is drawing near--our labour will soon end. + Come, deal, deal, deal, deal, deal; are you all dumb? + What, will you keep me from our ancient home, + And from the eternal revelry? + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Deal, deal. + + SHEMUS + + They say you beat the woman down too low. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + I offer this great price: a thousand crowns + For an old woman who was always ugly. + +(_An old_ PEASANT WOMAN _comes forward, and he takes up a book and +reads_:) + + There is but little set down here against her. + "She has stolen eggs and fowl when times were bad, + But when the times grew better has confessed it; + She never missed her chapel of a Sunday + And when she could, paid dues." Take up your money. + + OLD WOMAN + + God bless you, sir. (_She screams._) Oh, sir, a pain went through me! + + FIRST MERCHANT + + That name is like a fire to all damned souls. + +(_Murmur among the_ PEASANTS, _who shrink back from her as she goes +out_.) + + A PEASANT + + How she screamed out! + + SECOND PEASANT + + And maybe we shall scream so. + + THIRD PEASANT + + I tell you there is no such place as hell. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Can such a trifle turn you from your profit? + Come, deal; come, deal. + + MIDDLE-AGED MAN + + Master, I am afraid. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + I bought your soul, and there's no sense in fear + Now the soul's gone. + + MIDDLE-AGED MAN + + Give me my soul again. + + WOMAN (_going on her knees and clinging to_ + MERCHANT) + + And take this money too, and give me mine. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Bear bastards, drink or follow some wild fancy; + For sighs and cries are the soul's work, + And you have none. + +(_Throws the woman off._) + + PEASANT + + Come, let's away. + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + Yes, yes. + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + Come quickly; if that woman had not screamed + I would have lost my soul. + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + Come, come away. + +(_They turn to door, but are stopped by shouts of "Countess Cathleen! +Countess Cathleen!"_) + + CATHLEEN (_entering_) + + And so you trade once more? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + In spite of you. + What brings you here, saint with the sapphire eyes? + + CATHLEEN + + I come to barter a soul for a great price. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + What matter, if the soul be worth the price? + + CATHLEEN + + The people starve, therefore the people go + Thronging to you. I hear a cry come from them + And it is in my ears by night and day, + And I would have five hundred thousand crowns + That I may feed them till the dearth go by. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + It may be the soul's worth it. + + CATHLEEN + + There is more: + The souls that you have bought must be set free. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We know of but one soul that's worth the price. + + CATHLEEN + + Being my own it seems a priceless thing. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + You offer us---- + + CATHLEEN + + I offer my own soul. + + A PEASANT + + Do not, do not, for souls the like of ours + Are not precious to God as your soul is. + O! what would Heaven do without you, lady? + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + Look how their claws clutch in their leathern gloves. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Five hundred thousand crowns; we give the price. + The gold is here; the souls even while you speak + Have slipped out of our bond, because your face + Has shed a light on them and filled their hearts. + But you must sign, for we omit no form + In buying a soul like yours. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Sign with this quill + It was a feather growing on the cock + That crowed when Peter dared deny his Master, + And all who use it have great honour in Hell. + +(CATHLEEN _leans forward to sign_.) + + ALEEL (_rushing forward and snatching the + pen from her_) + + Leave all things to the builder of the heavens. + + CATHLEEN + + I have no thoughts; I hear a cry--a cry. + + ALEEL (_casting the pen on the ground_) + + I have seen a vision under a green hedge, + A hedge of hips and haws--men yet shall hear + The Archangels rolling Satan's empty skull + Over the mountain-tops. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Take him away. + +(TEIG _and_ SHEMUS _drag him roughly away so that he falls upon the +floor among the_ PEASANTS. CATHLEEN _picks up parchment and signs, then +turns towards the_ PEASANTS.) + + CATHLEEN + + Take up the money, and now come with me; + When we are far from this polluted place + I will give everybody money enough. + +(_She goes out, the_ PEASANTS _crowding round her and kissing her +dress_. ALEEL _and the two_ MERCHANTS _are left alone_.) + + SECOND MERCHANT + + We must away and wait until she dies, + Sitting above her tower as two grey owls, + Waiting as many years as may be, guarding + Our precious jewel; waiting to seize her soul. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We need but hover over her head in the air, + For she has only minutes. When she signed + Her heart began to break. Hush, hush, I hear + The brazen door of Hell move on its hinges, + And the eternal revelry float hither + To hearten us. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Leap feathered on the air + And meet them with her soul caught in your claws. + +(_They rush out._ ALEEL _crawls into the middle of the room_. _The +twilight has fallen and gradually darkens as the scene goes on. There is +a distant muttering of thunder and a sound of rising storm._) + + ALEEL + + The brazen door stands wide, and Balor comes + Borne in his heavy car, and demons have lifted + The age-weary eyelids from the eyes that of old + Turned gods to stone; Barach, the traitor, comes + And the lascivious race, Cailitin, + That cast a druid weakness and decay + Over Sualtem's and old Dectera's child; + And that great king Hell first took hold upon + When he killed Naisi and broke Deirdre's heart + And all their heads are twisted to one side, + For when they lived they warred on beauty and peace + With obstinate, crafty, sidelong bitterness. + +(_He moves about as though the air above him was full of spirits_. OONA +_enters_.) + + Crouch down, old heron, out of the blind storm. + + OONA + + Where is the Countess Cathleen? All this day + Her eyes were full of tears, and when for a moment + Her hand was laid upon my hand it trembled, + And now I do not know where she is gone. + + ALEEL + + Cathleen has chosen other friends than us, + And they are rising through the hollow world. + Demons are out, old heron. + + OONA + + God guard her soul. + + ALEEL + + She's bartered it away this very hour, + As though we two were never in the world. + +(_He points downward._) + + First, Orchill, her pale, beautiful head + Her body shadowy as vapour drifting + Under the dawn, for she who awoke desire + Has but a heart of blood when others die; + About her is a vapoury multitude + Of women alluring devils with soft laughter; + Behind her a host heat of the blood made sin, + But all the little pink-white nails have grown + To be great talons. + +(_He seizes_ OONA _and drags her into the middle of the room and points +downward with vehement gestures_. _The wind roars._) + + They begin a song + And there is still some music on their tongues. + + OONA (_casting herself face downwards on the floor_) + + O, Maker of all, protect her from the demons, + And if a soul must need be lost, take mine. + +(ALEEL _kneels beside her, but does not seem to hear her words_. _The_ +PEASANTS _return_. _They carry the_ COUNTESS CATHLEEN _and lay her upon +the ground before_ OONA _and_ ALEEL. _She lies there as if dead._) + + OONA + + O, that so many pitchers of rough clay + Should prosper and the porcelain break in two! + + (_She kisses the hands of_ CATHLEEN.) + + A PEASANT + + We were under the tree where the path turns, + When she grew pale as death and fainted away. + And while we bore her hither cloudy gusts + Blackened the world and shook us on our feet; + Draw the great bolt, for no man has beheld + So black, bitter, blinding, and sudden a storm. + +(_One who is near the door draws the bolt._) + + CATHLEEN + + O, hold me, and hold me tightly, for the storm + Is dragging me away. + +(OONA _takes her in her arms_. A WOMAN _begins to wail_.) + + PEASANT + + Hush! + + PEASANTS + + Hush! + + PEASANT WOMEN + + Hush! + + OTHER PEASANT WOMEN + + Hush! + + CATHLEEN (_half rising_) + + Lay all the bags of money in a heap, + And when I am gone, old Oona, share them out + To every man and woman: judge, and give + According to their needs. + + A PEASANT WOMAN + + And will she give + Enough to keep my children through the dearth? + + ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN + + O, Queen of Heaven, and all you blessed saints, + Let us and ours be lost so she be shriven. + + CATHLEEN + + Bend down your faces, Oona and Aleel; + I gaze upon them as the swallow gazes + Upon the nest under the eave, before + She wander the loud waters. Do not weep + Too great a while, for there is many a candle + On the High Altar though one fall. Aleel, + Who sang about the dancers of the woods, + That know not the hard burden of the world, + Having but breath in their kind bodies, farewell! + And farewell, Oona, you who played with me, + And bore me in your arms about the house + When I was but a child and therefore happy, + Therefore happy, even like those that dance. + The storm is in my hair and I must go. + +(_She dies._) + + OONA + + Bring me the looking-glass. + +(A WOMAN _brings it to her out of the inner room_. OONA _holds it over +the lips of_ CATHLEEN. _All is silent for a moment. And then she speaks +in a half scream_:) + + O, she is dead! + + A PEASANT + + She was the great white lily of the world. + + A PEASANT + + She was more beautiful than the pale stars. + + AN OLD PEASANT WOMAN + + The little plant I love is broken in two. + +(ALEEL _takes looking-glass from_ OONA _and flings it upon the floor so +that it is broken in many pieces_.) + + ALEEL + + I shatter you in fragments, for the face + That brimmed you up with beauty is no more: + And die, dull heart, for she whose mournful words + Made you a living spirit has passed away + And left you but a ball of passionate dust. + And you, proud earth and plumy sea, fade out! + For you may hear no more her faltering feet, + But are left lonely amid the clamorous war + Of angels upon devils. + +(_He stands up; almost every one is kneeling, but it has grown so dark +that only confused forms can be seen._) + + And I who weep + Call curses on you, Time and Fate and Change, + And have no excellent hope but the great hour + When you shall plunge headlong through bottomless space. + +(_A flash of lightning followed immediately by thunder._) + + A PEASANT WOMAN + + Pull him upon his knees before his curses + Have plucked thunder and lightning on our heads. + + ALEEL + + Angels and devils clash in the middle air, + And brazen swords clang upon brazen helms. + +(_A flash of lightning followed immediately by thunder._) + + Yonder a bright spear, cast out of a sling, + Has torn through Balor's eye, and the dark clans + Fly screaming as they fled Moytura of old. + +(_Everything is lost in darkness._) + + AN OLD MAN + + The Almighty wrath at our great weakness and sin + Has blotted out the world and we must die. + +(_The darkness is broken by a visionary light. The_ PEASANTS _seem to be +kneeling upon the_ _rocky slope of a mountain, and vapour full of storm +and ever-changing light is sweeping above them and behind them. Half in +the light, half in the shadow, stand armed angels. Their armour is old +and worn, and their drawn swords dim and dinted. They stand as if upon +the air in formation of battle and look downward with stern faces. The_ +PEASANTS _cast themselves on the ground_.) + + ALEEL + + Look no more on the half-closed gates of Hell, + But speak to me, whose mind is smitten of God, + That it may be no more with mortal things, + And tell of her who lies there. + +(_He seizes one of the angels._) + + Till you speak + You shall not drift into eternity. + + THE ANGEL + + The light beats down; the gates of pearl are wide + And she is passing to the floor of peace, + And Mary of the seven times wounded heart + Has kissed her lips, and the long blessed hair + Has fallen on her face; The Light of Lights + Looks always on the motive, not the deed, + The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone. + +(ALEEL _releases the_ ANGEL _and kneels_.) + + OONA + + Tell them who walk upon the floor of peace + That I would die and go to her I love; + The years like great black oxen tread the world, + And God the herdsman goads them on behind + And I am broken by their passing feet. + +(_A sound of far-off horns seems to come from the heart of the Light. +The vision melts away, and the forms of the kneeling_ PEASANTS _appear +faintly in the darkness_.) + + + + +THE ROSE + + + "_Sero te amavi, Pulchritudo tam antiqua et tam nova! Sero te + amavi._" + + S. AUGUSTINE. + + +TO LIONEL JOHNSON + + +TO THE ROSE UPON THE ROOD OF TIME + + + _Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days! + Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways: + Cuchulain battling with the bitter tide; + The Druid, gray, wood-nurtured, quiet-eyed, + Who cast round Fergus dreams, and ruin untold; + And thine own sadness, whereof stars, grown old + In dancing silver sandalled on the sea, + Sing in their high and lonely melody. + Come near, that no more blinded by man's fate, + I find under the boughs of love and hate, + In all poor foolish things that live a day, + Eternal beauty wandering on her way._ + + _Come near, come near, come near--Ah, leave me still + A little space for the rose-breath to fill! + Lest I no more hear common things that crave; + The weak worm hiding down in its small cave,_ + _The field mouse running by me in the grass, + And heavy mortal hopes that toil and pass; + But seek alone to hear the strange things said + By God to the bright hearts of those long dead, + And learn to chaunt a tongue men do not know. + Come near; I would, before my time to go, + Sing of old Eire and the ancient ways: + Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days._ + + +FERGUS AND THE DRUID + + + FERGUS + + The whole day have I followed in the rocks, + And you have changed and flowed from shape to shape. + First as a raven on whose ancient wings + Scarcely a feather lingered, then you seemed + A weasel moving on from stone to stone, + And now at last you wear a human shape, + A thin gray man half lost in gathering night. + + DRUID + + What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings? + + FERGUS + + This would I say, most wise of living souls: + Young subtle Concobar sat close by me + When I gave judgment, and his words were wise, + And what to me was burden without end, + To him seemed easy, so I laid the crown + Upon his head to cast away my care. + + DRUID + + What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings? + + FERGUS + + I feast amid my people on the hill, + And pace the woods, and drive my chariot wheels + In the white border of the murmuring sea; + And still I feel the crown upon my head. + + DRUID + + What would you? + + FERGUS + + I would be no more a king + But learn the dreaming wisdom that is yours. + + DRUID + + Look on my thin gray hair and hollow cheeks + And on these hands that may not lift the sword + This body trembling like a wind-blown reed. + No woman loves me, no man seeks my help, + Because I be not of the things I dream. + + FERGUS + + A wild and foolish labourer is a king, + To do and do and do, and never dream. + + DRUID + + Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams; + Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round. + + FERGUS + + I see my life go dripping like a stream + From change to change; I have been many things, + A green drop in the surge, a gleam of light + Upon a sword, a fir-tree on a hill, + An old slave grinding at a heavy quern, + A king sitting upon a chair of gold, + And all these things were wonderful and great; + But now I have grown nothing, being all, + And the whole world weighs down upon my heart: + Ah! Druid, Druid, how great webs of sorrow + Lay hidden in the small slate-coloured bag! + + +THE DEATH OF CUCHULAIN + + + A man came slowly from the setting sun, + To Forgail's daughter, Emer, in her dun, + And found her dyeing cloth with subtle care, + And said, casting aside his draggled hair: + "I am Aleel, the swineherd, whom you bid + "Go dwell upon the sea cliffs, vapour hid; + "But now my years of watching are no more." + + Then Emer cast the web upon the floor, + And stretching out her arms, red with the dye, + Parted her lips with a loud sudden cry. + + Looking on her, Aleel, the swineherd, said: + "Not any god alive, nor mortal dead, + "Has slain so mighty armies, so great kings, + "Nor won the gold that now Cuchulain brings." + + "Why do you tremble thus from feet to crown?" + + Aleel, the swineherd, wept and cast him down + Upon the web-heaped floor, and thus his word: + "With him is one sweet-throated like a bird." + + "Who bade you tell these things?" and then she cried + To those about, "Beat him with thongs of hide + "And drive him from the door." + + And thus it was: + And where her son, Finmole, on the smooth grass + Was driving cattle, came she with swift feet, + And called out to him, "Son, it is not meet + "That you stay idling here with flocks and herds." + + "I have long waited, mother, for those words: + "But wherefore now?" + + "There is a man to die; + "You have the heaviest arm under the sky." + + "My father dwells among the sea-worn bands, + "And breaks the ridge of battle with his hands." + + "Nay, you are taller than Cuchulain, son." + + "He is the mightiest man in ship or dun." + + "Nay, he is old and sad with many wars, + "And weary of the crash of battle cars." + + "I only ask what way my journey lies, + "For God, who made you bitter, made you wise." + + "The Red Branch kings a tireless banquet keep, + "Where the sun falls into the Western deep. + "Go there, and dwell on the green forest rim; + "But tell alone your name and house to him + "Whose blade compels, and bid them send you one + "Who has a like vow from their triple dun." + + Between the lavish shelter of a wood + And the gray tide, the Red Branch multitude + Feasted, and with them old Cuchulain dwelt, + And his young dear one close beside him knelt, + And gazed upon the wisdom of his eyes, + More mournful than the depth of starry skies, + And pondered on the wonder of his days; + And all around the harp-string told his praise, + And Concobar, the Red Branch king of kings, + With his own fingers touched the brazen strings. + At last Cuchulain spake, "A young man strays + "Driving the deer along the woody ways. + "I often hear him singing to and fro, + "I often hear the sweet sound of his bow, + "Seek out what man he is." + + One went and came. + "He bade me let all know he gives his name + "At the sword point, and bade me bring him one + "Who had a like vow from our triple dun." + + "I only of the Red Branch hosted now," + Cuchulain cried, "have made and keep that vow." + + After short fighting in the leafy shade, + He spake to the young man, "Is there no maid + "Who loves you, no white arms to wrap you round, + "Or do you long for the dim sleepy ground, + "That you come here to meet this ancient sword?" + + "The dooms of men are in God's hidden hoard." + + "Your head a while seemed like a woman's head + "That I loved once." + + Again the fighting sped, + But now the war rage in Cuchulain woke, + And through the other's shield his long blade broke, + And pierced him. + + "Speak before your breath is done." + "I am Finmole, mighty Cuchulain's son." + + "I put you from your pain. I can no more." + + While day its burden on to evening bore, + With head bowed on his knees Cuchulain stayed; + Then Concobar sent that sweet-throated maid, + And she, to win him, his gray hair caressed; + In vain her arms, in vain her soft white breast. + Then Concobar, the subtlest of all men, + Ranking his Druids round him ten by ten, + Spake thus, "Cuchulain will dwell there and brood, + "For three days more in dreadful quietude, + "And then arise, and raving slay us all. + "Go, cast on him delusions magical, + "That he might fight the waves of the loud sea." + And ten by ten under a quicken tree, + The Druids chaunted, swaying in their hands + Tall wands of alder, and white quicken wands. + + In three days' time, Cuchulain with a moan + Stood up, and came to the long sands alone: + For four days warred he with the bitter tide; + And the waves flowed above him, and he died. + + +THE ROSE OF THE WORLD + + + Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream? + For these red lips, with all their mournful pride, + Mournful that no new wonder may betide, + Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam, + And Usna's children died. + + We and the labouring world are passing by: + Amid men's souls, that waver and give place, + Like the pale waters in their wintry race, + Under the passing stars, foam of the sky, + Lives on this lonely face. + + Bow down, archangels, in your dim abode: + Before you were, or any hearts to beat, + Weary and kind one lingered by His seat; + He made the world to be a grassy road + Before her wandering feet. + + +THE ROSE OF PEACE + + + If Michael, leader of God's host + When Heaven and Hell are met, + Looked down on you from Heaven's door-post + He would his deeds forget. + + Brooding no more upon God's wars + In his Divine homestead, + He would go weave out of the stars + A chaplet for your head. + + And all folk seeing him bow down, + And white stars tell your praise, + Would come at last to God's great town, + Led on by gentle ways; + + And God would bid His warfare cease. + Saying all things were well; + And softly make a rosy peace, + A peace of Heaven with Hell. + + +THE ROSE OF BATTLE + + + Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! + The tall thought-woven sails, that flap unfurled + Above the tide of hours, trouble the air, + And God's bell buoyed to be the water's care; + While hushed from fear, or loud with hope, a band + With blown, spray-dabbled hair gather at hand. + _Turn if you may from battles never done_, + I call, as they go by me one by one, + _Danger no refuge holds; and war no peace, + For him who hears love sing and never cease, + Beside her clean-swept hearth, her quiet shade: + But gather all for whom no love hath made + A woven silence, or but came to cast + A song into the air, and singing past + To smile on the pale dawn; and gather you + Who have sought more than is in rain or dew + Or in the sun and moon, or on the earth,_ + _Or sighs amid the wandering, starry mirth, + Or comes in laughter from the sea's sad lips + And wage God's battles in the long gray ships. + The sad, the lonely, the insatiable, + To these Old Night shall all her mystery tell; + God's bell has claimed them by the little cry + Of their sad hearts, that may not live nor die._ + + Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! + You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled + Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring + The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing. + Beauty grown sad with its eternity + Made you of us, and of the dim gray sea. + Our long ships loose thought-woven sails and wait, + For God has bid them share an equal fate; + And when at last defeated in His wars, + They have gone down under the same white stars, + We shall no longer hear the little cry + Of our sad hearts, that may not live nor die. + + +A FAERY SONG + + + _Sung by the people of faery over Diarmuid and Grania, who lay in + their bridal sleep under a Cromlech._ + + We who are old, old and gay, + O so old! + Thousands of years, thousands of years, + If all were told: + + Give to these children, new from the world, + Silence and love; + And the long dew-dropping hours of the night, + And the stars above: + + Give to these children, new from the world, + Rest far from men. + Is anything better, anything better? + Tell us it then: + + Us who are old, old and gay, + O so old! + Thousands of years, thousands of years, + If all were told. + + +THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE + + + I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, + And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: + Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, + And live alone in the bee-loud glade. + + And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, + Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; + There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, + And evening full of the linnet's wings. + + I will arise and go now, for always night and day + I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; + While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray, + I hear it in the deep heart's core. + + +A CRADLE SONG + + + "_Coth yani me von gilli beg, + 'N heur ve thu more a creena_." + + The angels are stooping + Above your bed; + They weary of trooping + With the whimpering dead. + + God's laughing in heaven + To see you so good; + The Shining Seven + Are gay with His mood. + + I kiss you and kiss you, + My pigeon, my own; + Ah, how I shall miss you + When you have grown. + + +THE PITY OF LOVE + + + A pity beyond all telling + Is hid in the heart of love: + The folk who are buying and selling + The clouds on their journey above + The cold wet winds ever blowing + And the shadowy hazel grove + Where mouse-gray waters are flowing + Threaten the head that I love. + + +THE SORROW OF LOVE + + + The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves, + The full round moon and the star-laden sky, + And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves, + Had hid away earth's old and weary cry. + + And then you came with those red mournful lips, + And with you came the whole of the world's tears + And all the trouble of her labouring ships, + And all the trouble of her myriad years. + + And now the sparrows warring in the eaves, + The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky, + And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves, + Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry. + + +WHEN YOU ARE OLD + + + When you are old and gray and full of sleep, + And nodding by the fire, take down this book, + And slowly read, and dream of the soft look + Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; + + How many loved your moments of glad grace, + And loved your beauty will love false or true; + But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, + And loved the sorrows of your changing face. + + And bending down beside the glowing bars + Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled + And paced upon the mountains overhead + And hid his face amid a crowd of stars. + + +THE WHITE BIRDS + + + I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea! + We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee; + And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low + on the rim of the sky, + Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die. + + A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew dabbled, the lily and rose; + Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes, + Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low + in the fall of the dew: + For I would we were changed to white birds on the + wandering foam: I and you! + + I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore, + Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more; + Soon far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be, + Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea! + + +A DREAM OF DEATH + + + I dreamed that one had died in a strange place + Near no accustomed hand; + And they had nailed the boards above her face + The peasants of that land, + Wondering to lay her in that solitude, + And raised above her mound + A cross they had made out of two bits of wood, + And planted cypress round; + And left her to the indifferent stars above + Until I carved these words: + _She was more beautiful than thy first love, + But now lies under boards_. + + +A DREAM OF A BLESSED SPIRIT + + + All the heavy days are over; + Leave the body's coloured pride + Underneath the grass and clover, + With the feet laid side by side. + + One with her are mirth and duty, + Bear the gold embroidered dress, + For she needs not her sad beauty, + To the scented oaken press. + + Hers the kiss of Mother Mary, + The long hair is on her face; + Still she goes with footsteps wary, + Full of earth's old timid grace. + + With white feet of angels seven + Her white feet go glimmering + And above the deep of heaven, + Flame on flame and wing on wing. + + +WHO GOES WITH FERGUS? + + + Who will go drive with Fergus now, + And pierce the deep wood's woven shade, + And dance upon the level shore? + Young man, lift up your russet brow, + And lift your tender eyelids, maid, + And brood on hopes and fears no more. + + And no more turn aside and brood + Upon Love's bitter mystery; + For Fergus rules the brazen cars, + And rules the shadows of the wood, + And the white breast of the dim sea + And all dishevelled wandering stars. + + +THE MAN WHO DREAMED OF FAERYLAND + + + He stood among a crowd at Drumahair; + His heart hung all upon a silken dress, + And he had known at last some tenderness, + Before earth made of him her sleepy care; + But when a man poured fish into a pile, + It seemed they raised their little silver heads, + And sang how day a Druid twilight sheds + Upon a dim, green, well-beloved isle, + Where people love beside star-laden seas; + How Time may never mar their faery vows + Under the woven roofs of quicken boughs: + The singing shook him out of his new ease. + + He wandered by the sands of Lisadill; + His mind ran all on money cares and fears, + And he had known at last some prudent years + Before they heaped his grave under the hill; + But while he passed before a plashy place, + A lug-worm with its gray and muddy mouth + Sang how somewhere to north or west or south + There dwelt a gay, exulting, gentle race; + And how beneath those three times blessed skies + A Danaan fruitage makes a shower of moons, + And as it falls awakens leafy tunes: + And at that singing he was no more wise. + + He mused beside the well of Scanavin, + He mused upon his mockers: without fail + His sudden vengeance were a country tale, + Now that deep earth has drunk his body in; + But one small knot-grass growing by the pool + Told where, ah, little, all-unneeded voice! + Old Silence bids a lonely folk rejoice, + And chaplet their calm brows with leafage cool, + And how, when fades the sea-strewn rose of day, + A gentle feeling wraps them like a fleece, + And all their trouble dies into its peace: + The tale drove his fine angry mood away. + + He slept under the hill of Lugnagall; + And might have known at last unhaunted sleep + Under that cold and vapour-turbaned steep, + Now that old earth had taken man and all: + Were not the worms that spired about his bones + A-telling with their low and reedy cry, + Of how God leans His hands out of the sky, + To bless that isle with honey in His tones; + That none may feel the power of squall and wave + And no one any leaf-crowned dancer miss + Until He burn up Nature with a kiss: + The man has found no comfort in the grave. + + +THE DEDICATION TO A BOOK OF STORIES SELECTED FROM THE IRISH NOVELISTS + + + There was a green branch hung with many a bell + When her own people ruled in wave-worn Eire; + And from its murmuring greenness, calm of faery, + A Druid kindness, on all hearers fell. + + It charmed away the merchant from his guile, + And turned the farmer's memory from his cattle, + And hushed in sleep the roaring ranks of battle, + For all who heard it dreamed a little while. + + Ah, Exiles wandering over many seas, + Spinning at all times Eire's good to-morrow! + Ah, worldwide Nation, always growing Sorrow! + I also bear a bell branch full of ease. + + I tore it from green boughs winds tossed and hurled, + Green boughs of tossing always, weary, weary! + I tore it from the green boughs of old Eire, + The willow of the many-sorrowed world. + + Ah, Exiles, wandering over many lands! + My bell branch murmurs: the gay bells bring laughter, + Leaping to shake a cobweb from the rafter; + The sad bells bow the forehead on the hands. + + A honeyed ringing: under the new skies + They bring you memories of old village faces, + Cabins gone now, old well-sides, old dear places; + And men who loved the cause that never dies. + + +THE LAMENTATION OF THE OLD PENSIONER + + + I had a chair at every hearth, + When no one turned to see, + With "Look at that old fellow there, + "And who may he be?" + And therefore do I wander now, + And the fret lies on me. + + The road-side trees keep murmuring + Ah, wherefore murmur ye, + As in the old days long gone by, + Green oak and poplar tree? + The well-known faces are all gone + And the fret lies on me. + + +THE BALLAD OF FATHER GILLIGAN + + + The old priest Peter Gilligan + Was weary night and day; + For half his flock were in their beds, + Or under green sods lay. + + Once, while he nodded on a chair, + At the moth-hour of eve, + Another poor man sent for him, + And he began to grieve. + + "I have no rest, nor joy, nor peace, + "For people die and die"; + And after cried he, "God forgive! + "My body spake, not I!" + + He knelt, and leaning on the chair + He prayed and fell asleep; + And the moth-hour went from the fields, + And stars began to peep. + + They slowly into millions grew, + And leaves shook in the wind; + And God covered the world with shade, + And whispered to mankind. + + Upon the time of sparrow chirp + When the moths came once more, + The old priest Peter Gilligan + Stood upright on the floor. + + "Mavrone, mavrone! the man has died, + "While I slept on the chair"; + He roused his horse out of its sleep, + And rode with little care. + + He rode now as he never rode, + By rocky lane and fen; + The sick man's wife opened the door: + "Father! you come again!" + + "And is the poor man dead?" he cried, + "He died an hour ago," + The old priest Peter Gilligan + In grief swayed to and fro. + + "When you were gone, he turned and died + "As merry as a bird." + The old priest Peter Gilligan + He knelt him at that word. + + "He who hath made the night of stars + "For souls, who tire and bleed, + "Sent one of His great angels down + "To help me in my need. + + "He who is wrapped in purple robes, + "With planets in His care, + "Had pity on the least of things + "Asleep upon a chair." + + +THE TWO TREES + + + Beloved, gaze in thine own heart, + The holy tree is growing there; + From joy the holy branches start, + And all the trembling flowers they bear. + The changing colours of its fruit + Have dowered the stars with merry light; + The surety of its hidden root + Has planted quiet in the night; + The shaking of its leafy head + Has given the waves their melody, + And made my lips and music wed, + Murmuring a wizard song for thee. + There, through bewildered branches, go + Winged Loves borne on in gentle strife, + Tossing and tossing to and fro + The flaming circle of our life. + When looking on their shaken hair, + And dreaming how they dance and dart, + Thine eyes grow full of tender care: + Beloved, gaze in thine own heart. + + Gaze no more in the bitter glass + The demons, with their subtle guile, + Lift up before us when they pass, + Or only gaze a little while; + For there a fatal image grows, + With broken boughs, and blackened leaves, + And roots half hidden under snows + Driven by a storm that ever grieves. + For all things turn to barrenness + In the dim glass the demons hold, + The glass of outer weariness, + Made when God slept in times of old. + There, through the broken branches, go + The ravens of unresting thought; + Peering and flying to and fro + To see men's souls bartered and bought. + When they are heard upon the wind, + And when they shake their wings; alas! + Thy tender eyes grow all unkind: + Gaze no more in the bitter glass. + + +TO IRELAND IN THE COMING TIMES + + + _Know, that I would accounted be + True brother of that company, + Who sang to sweeten Ireland's wrong, + Ballad and story, rann and song; + Nor be I any less of them, + Because the red-rose-bordered hem + Of her, whose history began + Before God made the angelic clan, + Trails all about the written page; + For in the world's first blossoming age + The light fall of her flying feet + Made Ireland's heart begin to beat; + And still the starry candles flare + To help her light foot here and there; + And still the thoughts of Ireland brood + Upon her holy quietude._ + + _Nor may I less be counted one + With Davis, Mangan, Ferguson, + Because to him, who ponders well, + My rhymes more than their rhyming tell + Of the dim wisdoms old and deep, + That God gives unto man in sleep. + For the elemental beings go + About my table to and fro. + In flood and fire and clay and wind, + They huddle from man's pondering mind; + Yet he who treads in austere ways + May surely meet their ancient gaze. + Man ever journeys on with them + After the red-rose-bordered hem. + Ah, faeries, dancing under the moon, + A Druid land, a Druid tune!_ + + _While still I may, I write for you + The love I lived, the dream I knew. + From our birthday, until we die, + Is but the winking of an eye; + And we, our singing and our love, + The mariners of night above, + And all the wizard things that go + About my table to and fro. + Are passing on to where may be, + In truth's consuming ecstasy + No place for love and dream at all; + For God goes by with white foot-fall. + I cast my heart into my rhymes, + That you, in the dim coming times, + May know how my heart went with them + After the red-rose-bordered hem._ + + + + +THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE + + + _O Rose, thou art sick._ + + WILLIAM BLAKE. + +TO + +FLORENCE FARR + + + MAURTEEN BRUIN + BRIDGET BRUIN + SHAWN BRUIN + MARY BRUIN + FATHER HART + A FAERY CHILD + + _The Scene is laid in the Barony of Kilmacowen, in the County of + Sligo, and at a remote time._ + + + SCENE.--_A room with a hearth on the floor in the middle of a deep + alcove to the Right. There are benches in the alcove and a table; + and a crucifix on the wall. The alcove is full of a glow of light + from the fire. There is an open door facing the audience to the + Left, and to the left of this a bench. Through the door one can see + the forest. It is night, but the moon or a late sunset glimmers + through the trees and carries the eye far off into a vague, + mysterious world._ MAURTEEN BRUIN, SHAWN BRUIN, _and_ BRIDGET BRUIN + _sit in the alcove at the table or about the fire. They are dressed + in the costume of some remote time, and near them sits an old + priest_, FATHER HART. _He may be dressed as a friar. There is food + and drink upon the table_. MARY BRUIN _stands by the door reading a + book. If she looks up she can see through the door into the wood._ + + BRIDGET + + Because I bid her clean the pots for supper + She took that old book down out of the thatch; + She has been doubled over it ever since. + We should be deafened by her groans and moans + Had she to work as some do, Father Hart; + Get up at dawn like me and mend and scour + Or ride abroad in the boisterous night like you, + The pyx and blessed bread under your arm. + + SHAWN + + Mother, you are too cross. + + BRIDGET + + You've married her, + And fear to vex her and so take her part. + + MAURTEEN (_to_ FATHER HART) + + It is but right that youth should side with youth; + She quarrels with my wife a bit at times, + And is too deep just now in the old book! + But do not blame her greatly; she will grow + As quiet as a puff-ball in a tree + When but the moons of marriage dawn and die + For half a score of times. + + FATHER HART + + Their hearts are wild, + As be the hearts of birds, till children come. + + BRIDGET + + She would not mind the kettle, milk the cow, + Or even lay the knives and spread the cloth. + + SHAWN + + Mother, if only---- + + MAURTEEN + + Shawn, this is half empty; + Go, bring up the best bottle that we have. + + FATHER HART + + I never saw her read a book before, + What can it be? + + MAURTEEN (_to_ SHAWN) + + What are you waiting for? + You must not shake it when you draw the cork; + It's precious wine, so take your time about it. + +(_To Priest._) (SHAWN _goes_.) + + There was a Spaniard wrecked at Ocris Head, + When I was young, and I have still some bottles. + He cannot bear to hear her blamed; the book + Has lain up in the thatch these fifty years; + My father told me my grandfather wrote it, + And killed a heifer for the binding of it-- + But supper's spread, and we can talk and eat + It was little good he got out of the book, + Because it filled his house with rambling fiddlers, + And rambling ballad-makers and the like. + The griddle-bread is there in front of you. + Colleen, what is the wonder in that book, + That you must leave the bread to cool? Had I + Or had my father read or written books + There were no stocking stuffed with yellow guineas + To come when I am dead to Shawn and you. + + FATHER HART + + You should not fill your head with foolish dreams. + What are you reading? + + MARY + + How a Princess Edane, + A daughter of a King of Ireland, heard + A voice singing on a May Eve like this, + And followed half awake and half asleep, + Until she came into the Land of Faery, + Where nobody gets old and godly and grave, + Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise, + Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue. + And she is still there, busied with a dance + Deep in the dewy shadow of a wood, + Or where stars walk upon a mountain-top. + + MAURTEEN + + Persuade the colleen to put down the book; + My grandfather would mutter just such things, + And he was no judge of a dog or a horse, + And any idle boy could blarney him; + Just speak your mind. + + FATHER HART + + Put it away, my colleen; + God spreads the heavens above us like great wings + And gives a little round of deeds and days, + And then come the wrecked angels and set snares, + And bait them with light hopes and heavy dreams, + Until the heart is puffed with pride and goes + Half shuddering and half joyous from God's peace; + And it was some wrecked angel, blind with tears, + Who flattered Edane's heart with merry words. + My colleen, I have seen some other girls + Restless and ill at ease, but years went by + And they grew like their neighbours and were glad + In minding children, working at the churn, + And gossiping of weddings and of wakes; + For life moves out of a red flare of dreams + Into a common light of common hours, + Until old age bring the red flare again. + + MAURTEEN + + That's true--but she's too young to know it's true. + + BRIDGET + + She's old enough to know that it is wrong + To mope and idle. + + MAURTEEN + + I've little blame for her; + She's dull when my big son is in the fields, + And that and maybe this good woman's tongue + Have driven her to hide among her dreams + Like children from the dark under the bed-clothes. + + BRIDGET + + She'd never do a turn if I were silent. + + MAURTEEN + + And maybe it is natural upon May Eve + To dream of the good people. But tell me, girl, + If you've the branch of blessed quicken wood + That women hang upon the post of the door + That they may send good luck into the house? + Remember they may steal new-married brides + After the fall of twilight on May Eve, + Or what old women mutter at the fire + Is but a pack of lies. + + FATHER HART + + It may be truth. + We do not know the limit of those powers + God has permitted to the evil spirits + For some mysterious end. You have done right (_to_ MARY); + It's well to keep old innocent customs up. + +(MARY BRUIN _has taken a bough of quicken wood from a seat and hung it +on a nail in the door-post. A girl child strangely dressed, perhaps in +faery green, comes out of the wood and takes it away_.) + + MARY + + I had no sooner hung it on the nail + Before a child ran up out of the wind; + She has caught it in her hand and fondled it; + Her face is pale as water before dawn. + + FATHER HART + + Whose child can this be? + + MAURTEEN + + No one's child at all. + She often dreams that some one has gone by, + When there was nothing but a puff of wind. + + MARY + + They have taken away the blessed quicken wood, + They will not bring good luck into the house; + Yet I am glad that I was courteous to them, + For are not they, likewise, children of God? + + FATHER HART + + Colleen, they are the children of the fiend, + And they have power until the end of Time, + When God shall fight with them a great pitched battle + And hack them into pieces. + + MARY + + He will smile, + Father, perhaps, and open His great door. + + FATHER HART + + Did but the lawless angels see that door + They would fall, slain by everlasting peace; + And when such angels knock upon our doors, + Who goes with them must drive through the same storm. + +(_A thin old arm comes round the door-post and knocks and beckons. It is +clearly seen in the silvery light._ MARY BRUIN _goes to door and stands +in it for a moment_. MAURTEEN BRUIN _is busy filling_ FATHER HART'S +_plate_. BRIDGET BRUIN _stirs the fire_.) + + MARY (_coming to table_) + + There's somebody out there that beckoned me + And raised her hand as though it held a cup, + And she was drinking from it, so it may be + That she is thirsty. + +(_She takes milk from the table and carries it to the door._) + + FATHER HART + + That will be the child + That you would have it was no child at all. + + BRIDGET + + And maybe, Father, what he said was true; + For there is not another night in the year + So wicked as to-night. + + MAURTEEN + + Nothing can harm us + While the good Father's underneath our roof. + + MARY + + A little queer old woman dressed in green. + + BRIDGET + + The good people beg for milk and fire + Upon May Eve--woe to the house that gives, + For they have power upon it for a year. + + MAURTEEN + + Hush, woman, hush! + + BRIDGET + + She's given milk away. + I knew she would bring evil on the house. + + MAURTEEN + + Who was it? + + MARY + + Both the tongue and face were strange. + + MAURTEEN + + Some strangers came last week to Clover Hill; + She must be one of them. + + BRIDGET + + I am afraid. + + FATHER HART + + The Cross will keep all evil from the house + While it hangs there. + + MAURTEEN + + Come, sit beside me, colleen, + And put away your dreams of discontent, + For I would have you light up my last days, + Like the good glow of the turf; and when I die + You'll be the wealthiest hereabout, for, colleen, + I have a stocking full of yellow guineas + Hidden away where nobody can find it. + + BRIDGET + + You are the fool of every pretty face, + And I must spare and pinch that my son's wife + May have all kinds of ribbons for her head. + + MAURTEEN + + Do not be cross; she is a right good girl! + The butter is by your elbow, Father Hart. + My colleen, have not Fate and Time and Change + Done well for me and for old Bridget there? + We have a hundred acres of good land, + And sit beside each other at the fire. + I have this reverend Father for my friend, + I look upon your face and my son's face-- + We've put his plate by yours--and here he comes, + And brings with him the only thing we have lacked, + Abundance of good wine. (SHAWN _comes in_.) Stir up the fire, + And put new turf upon it till it blaze; + To watch the turf-smoke coiling from the fire, + And feel content and wisdom in your heart, + This is the best of life; when we are young + We long to tread a way none trod before, + But find the excellent old way through love, + And through the care of children, to the hour + For bidding Fate and Time and Change goodbye. + +(MARY _takes a sod of turf from the fire and goes out through the door_. +SHAWN _follows her and meets her coming in_.) + + SHAWN + + What is it draws you to the chill o' the wood? + There is a light among the stems of the trees + That makes one shiver. + + MARY + + A little queer old man + Made me a sign to show he wanted fire + To light his pipe. + + BRIDGET + + You've given milk and fire + Upon the unluckiest night of the year and brought, + For all you know, evil upon the house. + Before you married you were idle and fine + And went about with ribbons on your head; + And now--no, Father, I will speak my mind-- + She is not a fitting wife for any man---- + + SHAWN + + Be quiet, Mother! + + MAURTEEN + + You are much too cross. + + MARY + + What do I care if I have given this house, + Where I must hear all day a bitter tongue, + Into the power of faeries! + + BRIDGET + + You know well + How calling the good people by that name, + Or talking of them over much at all, + May bring all kinds of evil on the house. + + MARY + + Come, faeries, take me out of this dull house! + Let me have all the freedom I have lost; + Work when I will and idle when I will! + Faeries, come take me out of this dull world, + For I would ride with you upon the wind. + Run on the top of the dishevelled tide, + And dance upon the mountains like a flame. + + FATHER HART + + You cannot know the meaning of your words. + + MARY + + Father, I am right weary of four tongues: + A tongue that is too crafty and too wise, + A tongue that is too godly and too grave, + A tongue that is more bitter than the tide, + And a kind tongue too full of drowsy love, + Of drowsy love and my captivity. + +(SHAWN BRUIN _leads her to a seat at the left of the door_.) + + SHAWN + + Do not blame me; I often lie awake + Thinking that all things trouble your bright head. + How beautiful it is--your broad pale forehead + Under a cloudy blossoming of hair! + Sit down beside me here--these are too old, + And have forgotten they were ever young. + + MARY + + O, you are the great door-post of this house, + And I the branch of blessed quicken wood, + And if I could I'd hang upon the post, + Till I had brought good luck into the house. + +(_She would put her arms about him, but looks shyly at the priest and +lets her arms fall._) + + FATHER HART + + My daughter, take his hand--by love alone + God binds us to Himself and to the hearth, + That shuts us from the waste beyond His peace, + From maddening freedom and bewildering light. + + SHAWN + + Would that the world were mine to give it you, + And not its quiet hearths alone, but even + All that bewilderment of light and freedom, + If you would have it. + + MARY + + I would take the world + And break it into pieces in my hands + To see you smile watching it crumble away. + + SHAWN + + Then I would mould a world of fire and dew, + With no one bitter, grave or over wise, + And nothing marred or old to do you wrong, + And crowd the enraptured quiet of the sky + With candles burning to your lonely face. + + MARY + + Your looks are all the candles that I need. + + SHAWN + + Once a fly dancing in a beam of the sun, + Or the light wind blowing out of the dawn, + Could fill your heart with dreams none other knew, + But now the indissoluble sacrament + Has mixed your heart that was most proud and cold + With my warm heart for ever; the sun and moon + Must fade and heaven be rolled up like a scroll; + But your white spirit still walk by my spirit. + +(_A Voice singing in the wood._) + + MAURTEEN + + There's some one singing. Why, it's but a child. + It sang, "The lonely of heart is withered away." + A strange song for a child, but she sings sweetly. + Listen, listen! + +(_Goes to door._) + + MARY + + O, cling close to me, + Because I have said wicked things to-night. + + THE VOICE + + The wind blows out of the gates of the day, + The wind blows over the lonely of heart, + And the lonely of heart is withered away. + While the faeries dance in a place apart, + Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring, + Tossing their milk-white arms in the air; + For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing + Of a land where even the old are fair, + And even the wise are merry of tongue; + But I heard a reed of Coolaney say, + "When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung + The lonely of heart is withered away!" + + MAURTEEN + + Being happy, I would have all others happy, + So I will bring her in out of the cold. + +(_He brings in the faery child._) + + THE CHILD + + I tire of winds and waters and pale lights. + + MAURTEEN + + And that's no wonder, for when night has fallen + The wood's a cold and a bewildering place, + But you are welcome here. + + THE CHILD + + I am welcome here. + For when I tire of this warm little house + There is one here that must away, away. + + MAURTEEN + + O, listen to her dreamy and strange talk. + Are you not cold? + + THE CHILD + + I will crouch down beside you, + For I have run a long, long way this night. + + BRIDGET + + You have a comely shape. + + MAURTEEN + + Your hair is wet. + + BRIDGET + + I'll warm your chilly feet. + + MAURTEEN + + You have come indeed + A long, long way--for I have never seen + Your pretty face--and must be tired and hungry, + Here is some bread and wine. + + THE CHILD + + The wine is bitter. + Old mother, have you no sweet food for me? + + BRIDGET + + I have some honey. + +(_She goes into the next room._) + + MAURTEEN + + You have coaxing ways, + The mother was quite cross before you came. + +(BRIDGET _returns with the honey and fills a porringer with milk_.) + + BRIDGET + + She is the child of gentle people; look + At her white hands and at her pretty dress. + I've brought you some new milk, but wait a while + And I will put it to the fire to warm, + For things well fitted for poor folk like us + Would never please a high-born child like you. + + THE CHILD + + From dawn, when you must blow the fire ablaze, + You work your fingers to the bone, old mother. + The young may lie in bed and dream and hope, + But you must work your fingers to the bone + Because your heart is old. + + BRIDGET + + The young are idle. + + THE CHILD + + Your memories have made you wise, old father; + The young must sigh through many a dream and hope, + But you are wise because your heart is old. + +(BRIDGET _gives her more bread and honey_.) + + MAURTEEN + + O, who would think to find so young a girl + Loving old age and wisdom? + + THE CHILD + + No more, mother. + + MAURTEEN + + What a small bite! The milk is ready now. + (_Hands it to her._) What a small sip! + + THE CHILD + + Put on my shoes, old mother. + Now I would like to dance now I have eaten, + The reeds are dancing by Coolaney lake, + And I would like to dance until the reeds + And the white waves have danced themselves asleep. + +(BRIDGET _puts on the shoes, and the_ CHILD _is about to dance, but +suddenly sees the crucifix and shrieks and covers her eyes_.) + + What is that ugly thing on the black cross? + + FATHER HART + + You cannot know how naughty your words are! + That is our Blessed Lord. + + THE CHILD + + Hide it away! + + BRIDGET + + I have begun to be afraid again. + + THE CHILD + + Hide it away! + + MAURTEEN + + That would be wickedness! + + BRIDGET + + That would be sacrilege! + + THE CHILD + + The tortured thing! + Hide it away! + + MAURTEEN + + Her parents are to blame. + + FATHER HART + + That is the image of the Son of God. + + THE CHILD (_caressing him_) + + Hide it away, hide it away! + + MAURTEEN + + No, no. + + FATHER HART + + Because you are so young and like a bird, + That must take fright at every stir of the leaves, + I will go take it down. + + THE CHILD + + Hide it away! + And cover it out of sight and out of mind! + +(FATHER HART _takes crucifix from wall and carries it towards inner +room_.) + + FATHER HART + + Since you have come into this barony, + I will instruct you in our blessed faith; + And being so keen witted you'll soon learn. + +(_To the others._) + + We must be tender to all budding things, + Our Maker let no thought of Calvary + Trouble the morning stars in their first song. + +(_Puts crucifix in inner room._) + + THE CHILD + + Here is level ground for dancing; I will dance. + +(_Sings._) + + "The wind blows out of the gates of the day, + The wind blows over the lonely of heart, + And the lonely of heart is withered away." + +(_She dances._) + + MARY (_to_ SHAWN) + + Just now when she came near I thought I heard + Other small steps beating upon the floor, + And a faint music blowing in the wind, + Invisible pipes giving her feet the tune. + + SHAWN + + I heard no steps but hers. + + MARY + + I hear them now, + The unholy powers are dancing in the house. + + MAURTEEN + + Come over here, and if you promise me + Not to talk wickedly of holy things + I will give you something. + + THE CHILD + + Bring it me, old father. + + MAURTEEN + + Here are some ribbons that I bought in the town + For my son's wife--but she will let me give them + To tie up that wild hair the winds have tumbled. + + THE CHILD + + Come, tell me, do you love me? + + MAURTEEN + + Yes, I love you. + + THE CHILD + + Ah, but you love this fireside. Do you love me? + + FATHER HART + + When the Almighty puts so great a share + Of His own ageless youth into a creature, + To look is but to love. + + THE CHILD + + But you love Him? + + BRIDGET + + She is blaspheming. + + THE CHILD + + And do you love me too? + + MARY + + I do not know. + + THE CHILD + + You love that young man there, + Yet I could make you ride upon the winds, + Run on the top of the dishevelled tide, + And dance upon the mountains like a flame. + + MARY + + Queen of Angels and kind saints defend us! + Some dreadful thing will happen. A while ago + She took away the blessed quicken wood. + + FATHER HART + + You fear because of her unmeasured prattle; + She knows no better. Child, how old are you? + + THE CHILD + + When winter sleep is abroad my hair grows thin, + My feet unsteady. When the leaves awaken + My mother carries me in her golden arms; + I'll soon put on my womanhood and marry + The spirits of wood and water, but who can tell + When I was born for the first time? I think + I am much older than the eagle cock + That blinks and blinks on Ballygawley Hill, + And he is the oldest thing under the moon. + + FATHER HART + + O she is of the faery people. + + THE CHILD + + One called, + I sent my messengers for milk and fire, + She called again and after that I came. + +(_All except_ SHAWN _and_ MARY BRUIN _gather behind the priest for +protection_.) + + SHAWN (_rising_) + + Though you have made all these obedient, + You have not charmed my sight and won from me + A wish or gift to make you powerful; + I'll turn you from the house. + + FATHER HART + + No, I will face her. + + THE CHILD + + Because you took away the crucifix + I am so mighty that there's none can pass, + Unless I will it, where my feet have danced + Or where I've whirled my finger-tops. + +(SHAWN _tries to approach her and cannot_.) + + MAURTEEN + + Look, look! + There something stops him--look how he moves his hands + As though he rubbed them on a wall of glass! + + FATHER HART + + I will confront this mighty spirit alone; + Be not afraid, the Father is with us, + The Holy Martyrs and the Innocents, + The adoring Magi in their coats of mail, + And He who died and rose on the third day, + And all the nine angelic hierarchies. + +(_The_ CHILD _kneels upon the settle beside_ MARY _and puts her arms +about her_.) + + Cry, daughter, to the Angels and the Saints. + + THE CHILD + + You shall go with me, newly-married bride, + And gaze upon a merrier multitude. + White-armed Nuala, Aengus of the Birds, + Feacra of the hurtling foam, and him + Who is the ruler of the Western Host, + Finvarra, and their Land of Heart's Desire, + Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood, + But joy is wisdom, Time an endless song. + I kiss you and the world begins to fade. + + SHAWN + + Awake out of that trance--and cover up + Your eyes and ears. + + FATHER HART + + She must both look and listen, + For only the soul's choice can save her now. + Come over to me, daughter; stand beside me; + Think of this house and of your duties in it. + + THE CHILD + + Stay and come with me, newly-married bride, + For if you hear him you grow like the rest; + Bear children, cook, and bend above the churn, + And wrangle over butter, fowl, and eggs, + Until at last, grown old and bitter of tongue, + You're crouching there and shivering at the grave. + + FATHER HART + + Daughter, I point you out the way to Heaven. + + THE CHILD + + But I can lead you, newly-married bride, + Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise, + Where nobody gets old and godly and grave, + Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue, + And where kind tongues bring no captivity; + For we are but obedient to the thoughts + That drift into the mind at a wink of the eye. + + FATHER HART + + By the dear Name of the One crucified, + I bid you, Mary Bruin, come to me. + + THE CHILD + + I keep you in the name of your own heart. + + FATHER HART + + It is because I put away the crucifix + That I am nothing, and my power is nothing. + I'll bring it here again. + + MAURTEEN (_clinging to him_) + + No. + + BRIDGET + + Do not leave us. + + FATHER HART + + O, let me go before it is too late; + It is my sin alone that brought it all. + +(_Singing outside._) + + THE CHILD + + I hear them sing, "Come, newly-married bride, + Come, to the woods and waters and pale lights." + + MARY + + I will go with you. + + FATHER HART + + She is lost, alas! + + THE CHILD (_standing by the door_) + + But clinging mortal hope must fall from you, + For we who ride the winds, run on the waves, + And dance upon the mountains are more light + Than dewdrops on the banner of the dawn. + + MARY + + O, take me with you. + + SHAWN + + Beloved, I will keep you. + I've more than words, I have these arms to hold you, + Nor all the faery host, do what they please, + Shall ever make me loosen you from these arms. + + MARY + + Dear face! Dear voice! + + THE CHILD + + Come, newly-married bride. + + MARY + + I always loved her world--and yet--and yet---- + + THE CHILD + + White bird, white bird, come with me, little bird. + + MARY + + She calls me! + + THE CHILD + + Come with me, little bird. + +(_Distant dancing figures appear in the wood._) + + MARY + + I can hear songs and dancing. + + SHAWN + + Stay with me. + + MARY + + I think that I would stay--and yet--and yet---- + + THE CHILD + + Come, little bird, with crest of gold. + + MARY (_very softly_) + + And yet---- + + THE CHILD + + Come, little bird with silver feet! + +(MARY BRUIN _dies, and the_ CHILD _goes_.) + + SHAWN + + She is dead! + + BRIDGET + + Come from that image; body and soul are gone. + You have thrown your arms about a drift of leaves, + Or bole of an ash-tree changed into her image. + + FATHER HART + + Thus do the spirits of evil snatch their prey, + Almost out of the very hand of God; + And day by day their power is more and more, + And men and women leave old paths, for pride + Comes knocking with thin knuckles on the heart. + +(_Outside there are dancing figures, and it may be a white bird, and +many voices singing_:) + + "The wind blows out of the gates of the day, + The wind blows over the lonely of heart, + And the lonely of heart is withered away; + While the faeries dance in a place apart, + Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring, + Tossing their milk-white arms in the air; + For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing + Of a land where even the old are fair, + And even the wise are merry of tongue; + But I heard a reed of Coolaney say-- + 'When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung, + The lonely of heart is withered away.'" + + + + +CROSSWAYS + + + _"The stars are threshed, and the souls are threshed from their husks."_ + + WILLIAM BLAKE. + +To A.E. + + +THE SONG OF THE HAPPY SHEPHERD + + + The woods of Arcady are dead, + And over is their antique joy; + Of old the world on dreaming fed; + Gray Truth is now her painted toy; + Yet still she turns her restless head: + But O, sick children of the world, + Of all the many changing things + In dreary dancing past us whirled, + To the cracked tune that Chronos sings, + Words alone are certain good. + Where are now the warring kings, + Word be-mockers?--By the Rood + Where are now the warring kings? + An idle word is now their glory, + By the stammering schoolboy said, + Reading some entangled story: + The kings of the old time are fled + The wandering earth herself may be + Only a sudden flaming word, + In clanging space a moment heard, + Troubling the endless reverie. + + Then nowise worship dusty deeds, + Nor seek; for this is also sooth; + To hunger fiercely after truth, + Lest all thy toiling only breeds + New dreams, new dreams; there is no truth + Saving in thine own heart. Seek, then, + No learning from the starry men, + Who follow with the optic glass + The whirling ways of stars that pass-- + Seek, then, for this is also sooth, + No word of theirs--the cold star-bane + Has cloven and rent their hearts in twain, + And dead is all their human truth. + Go gather by the humming-sea + Some twisted, echo-harbouring shell, + And to its lips thy story tell, + And they thy comforters will be, + Rewarding in melodious guile, + Thy fretful words a little while, + Till they shall singing fade in ruth, + And die a pearly brotherhood; + For words alone are certain good: + Sing, then, for this is also sooth. + + I must be gone: there is a grave + Where daffodil and lily wave, + And I would please the hapless faun, + Buried under the sleepy ground, + With mirthful songs before the dawn. + His shouting days with mirth were crowned; + And still I dream he treads the lawn, + Walking ghostly in the dew, + Pierced by my glad singing through, + My songs of old earth's dreamy youth: + But ah! she dreams not now; dream thou! + For fair are poppies on the brow: + Dream, dream, for this is also sooth. + + +THE SAD SHEPHERD + + + There was a man whom Sorrow named his friend, + And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming, + Went walking with slow steps along the gleaming + And humming sands, where windy surges wend: + And he called loudly to the stars to bend + From their pale thrones and comfort him, but they + Among themselves laugh on and sing alway: + And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend + Cried out, _Dim sea, hear my most piteous story!_ + The sea swept on and cried her old cry still, + Rolling along in dreams from hill to hill; + He fled the persecution of her glory + And, in a far-off, gentle valley stopping, + Cried all his story to the dewdrops glistening, + But naught they heard, for they are always listening, + The dewdrops, for the sound of their own dropping. + And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend, + Sought once again the shore, and found a shell, + And thought, _I will my heavy story tell + Till my own words, re-echoing, shall send + Their sadness through a hollow, pearly heart; + And my own tale again for me shall sing, + And my own whispering words be comforting, + And lo! my ancient burden may depart_. + Then he sang softly nigh the pearly rim; + But the sad dweller by the sea-ways lone + Changed all he sang to inarticulate moan + Among her wildering whirls, forgetting him. + + +THE CLOAK, THE BOAT, AND THE SHOES + + + "What do you make so fair and bright?" + + "I make the cloak of Sorrow: + "O, lovely to see in all men's sight + "Shall be the cloak of Sorrow, + "In all men's sight." + + "What do you build with sails for flight?" + + "I build a boat for Sorrow, + "O, swift on the seas all day and night + "Saileth the rover Sorrow, + "All day and night." + + "What do you weave with wool so white? + + "I weave the shoes of Sorrow, + "Soundless shall be the footfall light + "In all men's ears of Sorrow, + "Sudden and light." + + +ANASHUYA AND VIJAYA + + + _A little Indian temple in the Golden Age. Around it a garden; + around that the forest._ ANASHUYA, _the young priestess, kneeling + within the temple_. + + ANASHUYA + + Send peace on all the lands and flickering corn.-- + O, may tranquillity walk by his elbow + When wandering in the forest, if he love + No other.--Hear, and may the indolent flocks + Be plentiful.--And if he love another, + May panthers end him.--Hear, and load our king + With wisdom hour by hour.--May we two stand, + When we are dead, beyond the setting suns, + A little from the other shades apart, + With mingling hair, and play upon one lute. + + VIJAYA [_entering and throwing a lily at her_] + + Hail! hail, my Anashuya. + + ANASHUYA + + No: be still. + I, priestess of this temple, offer up + Prayers for the land. + + VIJAYA + + I will wait here, Amrita. + + ANASHUYA + + By mighty Brahma's ever rustling robe, + Who is Amrita? Sorrow of all sorrows! + Another fills your mind. + + VIJAYA + + My mother's name. + + ANASHUYA [_sings, coming out of the temple_] + + _A sad, sad thought went by me slowly: + Sigh, O you little stars! O, sigh and shake your blue apparel! + The sad, sad thought has gone from me now wholly: + Sing, O you little stars! O, sing and raise your rapturous carol + To mighty Brahma, he who made you many as the sands, + And laid you on the gates of evening with his quiet hands._ + +[_Sits down on the steps of the temple._] + + Vijaya, I have brought my evening rice; + The sun has laid his chin on the gray wood, + Weary, with all his poppies gathered round him. + + VIJAYA + + The hour when Kama, full of sleepy laughter, + Rises, and showers abroad his fragrant arrows, + Piercing the twilight with their murmuring barbs. + + ANASHUYA + + See how the sacred old flamingoes come, + Painting with shadow all the marble steps: + Aged and wise, they seek their wonted perches + Within the temple, devious walking, made + To wander by their melancholy minds. + Yon tall one eyes my supper; swiftly chase him + Far, far away. I named him after you. + He is a famous fisher; hour by hour + He ruffles with his bill the minnowed streams. + Ah! there he snaps my rice. I told you so. + Now cuff him off. He's off! A kiss for you, + Because you saved my rice. Have you no thanks? + + VIJAYA [_sings_] + + _Sing you of her, O first few stars, + Whom Brahma, touching with his finger, praises, for you hold_ + _The van of wandering quiet; ere you be too calm and old, + Sing, turning in your cars, + Sing, till you raise your hands and sigh, and from your car heads peer, + With all your whirling hair, and drop many an azure tear._ + + ANASHUYA + + What know the pilots of the stars of tears? + + VIJAYA + + Their faces are all worn, and in their eyes + Flashes the fire of sadness, for they see + The icicles that famish all the north, + Where men lie frozen in the glimmering snow; + And in the flaming forests cower the lion + And lioness, with all their whimpering cubs; + And, ever pacing on the verge of things, + The phantom, Beauty, in a mist of tears; + While we alone have round us woven woods, + And feel the softness of each other's hand, + Amrita, while---- + + ANASHUYA [_going away from him_] + + Ah me, you love another, + +[_Bursting into tears._] + + And may some dreadful ill befall her quick! + + VIJAYA + + I loved another; now I love no other. + Among the mouldering of ancient woods + You live, and on the village border she, + With her old father the blind wood-cutter; + I saw her standing in her door but now. + + ANASHUYA + + Vijaya, swear to love her never more, + + VIJAYA + + Ay, ay. + + ANASHUYA + + Swear by the parents of the gods, + Dread oath, who dwell on sacred Himalay, + On the far Golden Peak; enormous shapes, + Who still were old when the great sea was young + On their vast faces mystery and dreams; + Their hair along the mountains rolled and filled + From year to year by the unnumbered nests + Of aweless birds, and round their stirless feet + The joyous flocks of deer and antelope, + Who never hear the unforgiving hound. + Swear! + + VIJAYA + + By the parents of the gods, I swear. + + ANASHUYA [_sings_] + + _I have forgiven, O new star! + Maybe you have not heard of us, you have come forth so newly, + You hunter of the fields afar! + Ah, you will know my loved one by his hunter's arrows truly, + Shoot on him shafts of quietness, that he may ever keep + An inner laughter, and may kiss his hands to me in sleep._ + + Farewell, Vijaya. Nay, no word, no word; + I, priestess of this temple, offer up + Prayers for the land. + +[VIJAYA _goes_.] + + O Brahma, guard in sleep + The merry lambs and the complacent kine, + The flies below the leaves, and the young mice + In the tree roots, and all the sacred flocks + Of red flamingo; and my love, Vijaya; + And may no restless fay with fidget finger + Trouble his sleeping: give him dreams of me. + + +THE INDIAN UPON GOD + + + I passed along the water's edge below the humid trees, + My spirit rocked in evening light, the rushes round my knees, + My spirit rocked in sleep and sighs; and saw the moorfowl pace + All dripping on a grassy slope, and saw them cease to chase + Each other round in circles, and heard the eldest speak: + _Who holds the world between His bill and made us strong or weak + Is an undying moorfowl, and He lives beyond the sky. + The rains are from His dripping wing, the moonbeams from His eye._ + I passed a little further on and heard a lotus talk: + _Who made the world and ruleth it, He hangeth on a stalk,_ + _For I am in His image made, and all this tinkling tide + Is but a sliding drop of rain between His petals wide._ + A little way within the gloom a roebuck raised his eyes + Brimful of starlight, and he said: _The Stamper of the Skies, + He is a gentle roebuck; for how else, I pray, could He + Conceive a thing so sad and soft, a gentle thing like me?_ + I passed a little further on and heard a peacock say: + _Who made the grass and made the worms and made my feathers gay, + He is a monstrous peacock, and He waveth all the night + His languid tail above us, lit with myriad spots of light._ + + +THE INDIAN TO HIS LOVE + + + The island dreams under the dawn + And great boughs drop tranquillity; + The peahens dance on a smooth lawn, + A parrot sways upon a tree, + Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea. + + Here we will moor our lonely ship + And wander ever with woven hands, + Murmuring softly lip to lip, + Along the grass, along the sands, + Murmuring how far away are the unquiet lands: + + How we alone of mortals are + Hid under quiet bows apart, + While our love grows an Indian star, + A meteor of the burning heart, + One with the tide that gleams, the wings that gleam and dart, + + The heavy boughs, the burnished dove + That moans and sighs a hundred days: + How when we die our shades will rove, + When eve has hushed the feathered ways, + With vapoury footsole among the water's drowsy blaze. + + +THE FALLING OF THE LEAVES + + + Autumn is over the long leaves that love us, + And over the mice in the barley sheaves; + Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us, + And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves. + + The hour of the waning of love has beset us, + And weary and worn are our sad souls now; + Let us part, ere the season of passion forget us, + With a kiss and a tear on thy drooping brow. + + +EPHEMERA + + + "Your eyes that once were never weary of mine + "Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids, + "Because our love is waning." + + And then she: + "Although our love is waning, let us stand + "By the lone border of the lake once more, + "Together in that hour of gentleness + "When the poor tired child, Passion, falls asleep: + "How far away the stars seem, and how far + "Is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart!" + + Pensive they paced along the faded leaves, + While slowly he whose hand held hers replied: + "Passion has often worn our wandering hearts." + + The woods were round them, and the yellow leaves + Fell like faint meteors in the gloom, and once + A rabbit old and lame limped down the path; + Autumn was over him: and now they stood + On the lone border of the lake once more: + Turning, he saw that she had thrust dead leaves + Gathered in silence, dewy as her eyes, + In bosom and hair. + + "Ah, do not mourn," he said, + "That we are tired, for other loves await us; + "Hate on and love through unrepining hours. + "Before us lies eternity; our souls + "Are love, and a continual farewell." + + +THE MADNESS OF KING GOLL + + + I sat on cushioned otter skin: + My word was law from Ith to Emen, + And shook at Invar Amargin + The hearts of the world-troubling seamen. + And drove tumult and war away + From girl and boy and man and beast; + The fields grew fatter day by day, + The wild fowl of the air increased; + And every ancient Ollave said, + While he bent down his fading head, + "He drives away the Northern cold." + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + I sat and mused and drank sweet wine; + A herdsman came from inland valleys, + Crying, the pirates drove his swine + To fill their dark-beaked hollow galleys. + I called my battle-breaking men, + And my loud brazen battle-cars + From rolling vale and rivery glen, + And under the blinking of the stars + Fell on the pirates by the deep, + And hurled them in the gulph of sleep: + These hands won many a torque of gold. + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + But slowly, as I shouting slew + And trampled in the bubbling mire, + In my most secret spirit grew + A whirling and a wandering fire: + I stood: keen stars above me shone, + Around me shone keen eyes of men: + I laughed aloud and hurried on + By rocky shore and rushy fen; + I laughed because birds fluttered by, + And starlight gleamed, and clouds flew high, + And rushes waved and waters rolled. + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + And now I wander in the woods + When summer gluts the golden bees, + Or in autumnal solitudes + Arise the leopard-coloured trees; + Or when along the wintry strands + The cormorants shiver on their rocks; + I wander on, and wave my hands, + And sing, and shake my heavy locks. + The gray wolf knows me; by one ear + I lead along the woodland deer; + The hares run by me growing bold. + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + I came upon a little town, + That slumbered in the harvest moon, + And passed a-tiptoe up and down, + Murmuring, to a fitful tune, + How I have followed, night and day, + A tramping of tremendous feet, + And saw where this old tympan lay, + Deserted on a doorway seat, + And bore it to the woods with me; + Of some unhuman misery + Our married voiced wildly trolled. + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + I sang how, when day's toil is done, + Orchil shakes out her long dark hair + That hides away the dying sun + And sheds faint odours through the air: + When my hand passed from wire to wire + It quenched, with sound like falling dew, + The whirling and the wandering fire; + But lift a mournful ulalu, + For the kind wires are torn and still, + And I must wander wood and hill + Through summer's heat and winter's cold. + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + +THE STOLEN CHILD + + + Where dips the rocky highland + Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, + There lies a leafy island + Where flapping herons wake + The drowsy water rats; + There we've hid our faery vats, + Full of berries, + And of reddest stolen cherries. + _Come away, O human child! + To the waters and the wild + With a faery, hand in hand, + For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._ + + Where the wave of moonlight glosses + The dim gray sands with light, + Far off by furthest Rosses + We foot it all the night, + Weaving olden dances, + Mingling hands and mingling glances + Till the moon has taken flight; + To and fro we leap + And chase the frothy bubbles, + While the world is full of troubles + And is anxious in its sleep. + _Come away, O human child! + To the waters and the wild + With a faery, hand in hand, + For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._ + + Where the wandering water gushes + From the hills above Glen-Car, + In pools among the rushes + That scarce could bathe a star, + We seek for slumbering trout + And whispering in their ears + Give them unquiet dreams; + Leaning softly out + From ferns that drop their tears + Over the young streams, + _Come away, O human child! + To the waters and the wild + With a faery, hand in hand, + For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._ + + Away with us he's going, + The solemn-eyed: + He'll hear no more the lowing + Of the calves on the warm hillside + Or the kettle on the hob + Sing peace into his breast, + Or see the brown mice bob + Round and round the oatmeal-chest. + _For he comes, the human child, + To the waters and the wild + With a faery, hand in hand, + From a world more full of weeping than he can understand._ + + +TO AN ISLE IN THE WATER + + + Shy one, shy one, + Shy one of my heart, + She moves in the firelight + Pensively apart. + + She carries in the dishes, + And lays them in a row. + To an isle in the water + With her would I go. + + She carries in the candles, + And lights the curtained room, + Shy in the doorway + And shy in the gloom; + + And shy as a rabbit, + Helpful and shy. + To an isle in the water + With her would I fly. + + +DOWN BY THE SALLEY GARDENS + + + Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet; + She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet. + She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree; + But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree. + + In a field by the river my love and I did stand, + And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand. + She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs; + But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears. + + +THE MEDITATION OF THE OLD FISHERMAN + + + You waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play, + Though you glow and you glance, though you purr and you dart; + In the Junes that were warmer than these are, the waves were more gay, + _When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart_. + + The herring are not in the tides as they were of old; + My sorrow! for many a creak gave the creel in the cart + That carried the take to Sligo town to be sold, + _When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart_. + + And ah, you proud maiden, you are not so fair when his oar + Is heard on the water, as they were, the proud and apart, + Who paced in the eve by the nets on the pebbly shore, + _When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart_. + + +THE BALLAD OF FATHER O'HART + + + Good Father John O'Hart + In penal days rode out + To a shoneen who had free lands + And his own snipe and trout. + + In trust took he John's lands; + Sleiveens were all his race; + And he gave them as dowers to his daughters, + And they married beyond their place. + + But Father John went up, + And Father John went down; + And he wore small holes in his shoes, + And he wore large holes in his gown. + + All loved him, only the shoneen, + Whom the devils have by the hair, + From the wives, and the cats, and the children, + To the birds in the white of the air. + + The birds, for he opened their cages + As he went up and down; + And he said with a smile, "Have peace now"; + And he went his way with a frown. + + But if when any one died + Came keeners hoarser than rooks, + He bade them give over their keening; + For he was a man of books. + + And these were the works of John, + When weeping score by score, + People came into Coloony; + For he'd died at ninety-four. + + There was no human keening; + The birds from Knocknarea + And the world round Knocknashee + Came keening in that day. + + The young birds and old birds + Came flying, heavy and sad; + Keening in from Tiraragh, + Keening from Ballinafad; + + Keening from Inishmurray, + Nor stayed for bite or sup; + This way were all reproved + Who dig old customs up. + + +THE BALLAD OF MOLL MAGEE + + + Come round me, little childer; + There, don't fling stones at me + Because I mutter as I go; + But pity Moll Magee. + + My man was a poor fisher + With shore lines in the say; + My work was saltin' herrings + The whole of the long day. + + And sometimes from the saltin' shed, + I scarce could drag my feet + Under the blessed moonlight, + Along the pebbly street. + + I'd always been but weakly, + And my baby was just born; + A neighbour minded her by day + I minded her till morn. + + I lay upon my baby; + Ye little childer dear, + I looked on my cold baby + When the morn grew frosty and clear. + + A weary woman sleeps so hard! + My man grew red and pale, + And gave me money, and bade me go + To my own place, Kinsale. + + He drove me out and shut the door, + And gave his curse to me; + I went away in silence, + No neighbour could I see. + + The windows and the doors were shut, + One star shone faint and green + The little straws were turnin' round + Across the bare boreen. + + I went away in silence: + Beyond old Martin's byre + I saw a kindly neighbour + Blowin' her mornin' fire. + + She drew from me my story-- + My money's all used up, + And still, with pityin', scornin' eye, + She gives me bite and sup. + + She says my man will surely come, + And fetch me home agin; + But always, as I'm movin' round, + Without doors or within, + + Pilin' the wood or pilin' the turf, + Or goin' to the well, + I'm thinkin' of my baby + And keenin' to mysel'. + + And sometimes I am sure she knows + When, openin' wide His door, + God lights the stars, His candles, + And looks upon the poor. + + So now, ye little childer, + Ye won't fling stones at me; + But gather with your shinin' looks + And pity Moll Magee. + + +THE BALLAD OF THE FOXHUNTER + + + "Now lay me in a cushioned chair + "And carry me, you four, + "With cushions here and cushions there, + "To see the world once more. + + "And some one from the stables bring + "My Dermot dear and brown, + "And lead him gently in a ring, + "And gently up and down. + + "Now leave the chair upon the grass: + "Bring hound and huntsman here, + "And I on this strange road will pass, + "Filled full of ancient cheer." + + His eyelids droop, his head falls low, + His old eyes cloud with dreams; + The sun upon all things that grow + Pours round in sleepy streams. + + Brown Dermot treads upon the lawn, + And to the armchair goes, + And now the old man's dreams are gone, + He smooths the long brown nose. + + And now moves many a pleasant tongue + Upon his wasted hands, + For leading aged hounds and young + The huntsman near him stands. + + "My huntsman, Rody, blow the horn, + "And make the hills reply." + The huntsman loosens on the morn + A gay and wandering cry. + + A fire is in the old man's eyes, + His fingers move and sway, + And when the wandering music dies + They hear him feebly say, + + "My huntsman, Rody, blow the horn, + "And make the hills reply." + "I cannot blow upon my horn, + "I can but weep and sigh." + + The servants round his cushioned place + Are with new sorrow wrung; + And hounds are gazing on his face, + Both aged hounds and young. + + One blind hound only lies apart + On the sun-smitten grass; + He holds deep commune with his heart: + The moments pass and pass; + + The blind hound with a mournful din + Lifts slow his wintry head; + The servants bear the body in; + The hounds wail for the dead. + + + + +THE WANDERINGS OF USHEEN + + + "_Give me the world if Thou wilt, but grant me an asylum for my + affections._" + + TULKA. + +TO EDWIN J. ELLIS + + +BOOK I + + + S. PATRIC + + You who are bent, and bald, and blind, + With a heavy heart and a wandering mind, + Have known three centuries, poets sing, + Of dalliance with a demon thing. + + USHEEN + + Sad to remember, sick with years, + The swift innumerable spears, + The horsemen with their floating hair, + And bowls of barley, honey, and wine, + And feet of maidens dancing in tune, + And the white body that lay by mine; + But the tale, though words be lighter than air, + Must live to be old like the wandering moon. + + Caolte, and Conan, and Finn were there, + When we followed a deer with our baying hounds, + With Bran, Sgeolan, and Lomair, + And passing the Firbolgs' burial mounds, + Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill + Where passionate Maive is stony still; + And found on the dove-gray edge of the sea + A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode + On a horse with bridle of findrinny; + And like a sunset were her lips, + A stormy sunset on doomed ships; + A citron colour gloomed in her hair, + But down to her feet white vesture flowed, + And with the glimmering crimson glowed + Of many a figured embroidery; + And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell + That wavered like the summer streams, + As her soft bosom rose and fell. + + S. PATRIC + + You are still wrecked among heathen dreams. + + USHEEN + + "Why do you wind no horn?" she said. + "And every hero droop his head? + "The hornless deer is not more sad + "That many a peaceful moment had, + "More sleek than any granary mouse, + "In his own leafy forest house + "Among the waving fields of fern: + "The hunting of heroes should be glad." + + "O pleasant woman," answered Finn, + "We think on Oscar's pencilled urn, + "And on the heroes lying slain, + On Gavra's raven-covered plain; + "But where are your noble kith and kin, + "And from what country do you ride?" + + "My father and my mother are + "Aengus and Adene, my own name + "Niam, and my country far + "Beyond the tumbling of this tide." + + "What dream came with you that you came + "Through bitter tide on foam wet feet? + "Did your companion wander away + "From where the birds of Aengus wing?" + + She said, with laughter tender and sweet: + "I have not yet, war-weary king, + "Been spoken of with any one; + "Yet now I choose, for these four feet + "Ran through the foam and ran to this + "That I might have your son to kiss." + + "Were there no better than my son + "That you through all that foam should run?" + + "I loved no man, though kings besought + "Love, till the Danaan poets brought + "Rhyme, that rhymed to Usheen's name, + "And now I am dizzy with the thought + "Of all that wisdom and the fame + "Of battles broken by his hands, + "Of stories builded by his words + "That are like coloured Asian birds + "At evening in their rainless lands." + + O Patric, by your brazen bell, + There was no limb of mine but fell + Into a desperate gulph of love! + "You only will I wed," I cried, + "And I will make a thousand songs, + "And set your name all names above. + "And captives bound with leathern thongs + "Shall kneel and praise you, one by one, + "At evening in my western dun." + + "O Usheen, mount by me and ride + "To shores by the wash of the tremulous tide, + "Where men have heaped no burial mounds, + "And the days pass by like a wayward tune, + "Where broken faith has never been known, + "And the blushes of first love never have flown; + "And there I will give you a hundred hounds; + "No mightier creatures bay at the moon; + "And a hundred robes of murmuring silk, + "And a hundred calves and a hundred sheep + "Whose long wool whiter than sea froth flows, + "And a hundred spears and a hundred bows, + "And oil and wine and honey and milk, + "And always never-anxious sleep; + "While a hundred youths, mighty of limb, + "But knowing nor tumult nor hate nor strife, + "And a hundred maidens, merry as birds, + "Who when they dance to a fitful measure + "Have a speed like the speed of the salmon herds, + "Shall follow your horn and obey your whim, + "And you shall know the Danaan leisure: + "And Niam be with you for a wife." + Then she sighed gently, "It grows late, + "Music and love and sleep await, + "Where I would be when the white moon climbs + "The red sun falls, and the world grows dim." + + And then I mounted and she bound me + With her triumphing arms around me, + And whispering to herself enwound me; + But when the horse had felt my weight, + He shook himself and neighed three times: + Caolte, Conan, and Finn came near, + And wept, and raised their lamenting hands, + And bid me stay, with many a tear; + But we rode out from the human lands. + + In what far kingdom do you go, + Ah, Fenians, with the shield and bow? + Or are you phantoms white as snow, + Whose lips had life's most prosperous glow? + O you, with whom in sloping valleys, + Or down the dewy forest alleys, + I chased at morn the flying deer, + With whom I hurled the hurrying spear, + And heard the foemen's bucklers rattle, + And broke the heaving ranks of battle! + And Bran, Sgeolan, and Lomair, + Where are you with your long rough hair? + You go not where the red deer feeds, + Nor tear the foemen from their steeds. + + S. PATRIC + + Boast not, nor mourn with drooping head + Companions long accurst and dead, + And hounds for centuries dust and air. + + USHEEN + + We galloped over the glossy sea: + I know not if days passed or hours, + And Niam sang continually + Danaan songs, and their dewy showers + Of pensive laughter, unhuman sound, + Lulled weariness, and softly round + My human sorrow her white arms wound. + + We galloped; now a hornless deer + Passed by us, chased by a phantom hound + All pearly white, save one red ear; + And now a maiden rode like the wind + With an apple of gold in her tossing hand; + And a beautiful young man followed behind + With quenchless gaze and fluttering hair. + + "Were these two born in the Danaan land, + "Or have they breathed the mortal air?" + + "Vex them no longer," Niam said, + And sighing bowed her gentle head, + And sighing laid the pearly tip + Of one long finger on my lip. + + But now the moon like a white rose shone + In the pale west, and the sun's rim sank, + And clouds arrayed their rank on rank + About his fading crimson ball: + The floor of Emen's hosting hall + Was not more level than the sea, + As full of loving phantasy, + And with low murmurs we rode on, + Where many a trumpet-twisted shell + That in immortal silence sleeps + Dreaming of her own melting hues, + Her golds, her ambers, and her blues, + Pierced with soft light the shallowing deeps. + + But now a wandering land breeze came + And a far sound of feathery quires; + It seemed to blow from the dying flame, + They seemed to sing in the smouldering fires. + The horse towards the music raced, + Neighing along the lifeless waste; + Like sooty fingers, many a tree + Rose ever out of the warm sea; + And they were trembling ceaselessly, + As though they all were beating time, + Upon the centre of the sun, + To that low laughing woodland rhyme. + And, now our wandering hours were done, + We cantered to the shore, and knew + The reason of the trembling trees: + Round every branch the song-birds flew, + Or clung thereon like swarming bees; + While round the shore a million stood + Like drops of frozen rainbow light, + And pondered in a soft vain mood + Upon their shadows in the tide, + And told the purple deeps their pride, + And murmured snatches of delight; + And on the shores were many boats + With bending sterns and bending bows. + + And carven figures on their prows + Of bitterns, and fish-eating stoats, + And swans with their exultant throats: + And where the wood and waters meet + We tied the horse in a leafy clump, + And Niam blew three merry notes + Out of a little silver trump; + And then an answering whispering flew + Over the bare and woody land, + A whisper of impetuous feet, + And ever nearer, nearer grew; + And from the woods rushed out a band + Of men and maidens, hand in hand, + And singing, singing altogether; + Their brows were white as fragrant milk, + Their cloaks made out of yellow silk, + And trimmed with many a crimson feather: + And when they saw the cloak I wore + Was dim with mire of a mortal shore, + They fingered it and gazed on me + And laughed like murmurs of the sea; + But Niam with a swift distress + Bid them away and hold their peace; + And when they heard her voice they ran + And knelt them, every maid and man + And kissed, as they would never cease, + Her pearl-pale hand and the hem of her dress. + She bade them bring us to the hall + Where Aengus dreams, from sun to sun, + A Druid dream of the end of days + When the stars are to wane and the world be done. + + They led us by long and shadowy ways + Where drops of dew in myriads fall, + And tangled creepers every hour + Blossom in some new crimson flower, + And once a sudden laughter sprang + From all their lips, and once they sang + Together, while the dark woods rang, + And made in all their distant parts, + With boom of bees in honey marts, + A rumour of delighted hearts. + And once a maiden by my side + Gave me a harp, and bid me sing, + And touch the laughing silver string; + But when I sang of human joy + A sorrow wrapped each merry face, + And, Patric! by your beard, they wept, + Until one came, a tearful boy; + "A sadder creature never stept + "Than this strange human bard," he cried; + And caught the silver harp away, + And, weeping over the white strings, hurled + It down in a leaf-hid, hollow place + That kept dim waters from the sky; + And each one said, with a long, long sigh, + "O saddest harp in all the world, + "Sleep there till the moon and the stars die!" + + And now still sad we came to where + A beautiful young man dreamed within + A house of wattles, clay, and skin; + One hand upheld his beardless chin, + And one a sceptre flashing out + Wild flames of red and gold and blue, + Like to a merry wandering rout + Of dancers leaping in the air; + And men and maidens knelt them there + And showed their eyes with teardrops dim, + And with low murmurs prayed to him, + And kissed the sceptre with red lips, + And touched it with their finger-tips. + + He held that flashing sceptre up. + "Joy drowns the twilight in the dew, + "And fills with stars night's purple cup, + "And wakes the sluggard seeds of corn, + "And stirs the young kid's budding horn. + "And makes the infant ferns unwrap, + "And for the peewit paints his cap, + "And rolls along the unwieldy sun, + "And makes the little planets run: + "And if joy were not on the earth, + "There were an end of change and birth, + "And earth and heaven and hell would die, + "And in some gloomy barrow lie + "Folded like a frozen fly; + "Then mock at Death and Time with glances + "And wavering arms and wandering dances. + + "Men's hearts of old were drops of flame + "That from the saffron morning came, + "Or drops of silver joy that fell + "Out of the moon's pale twisted shell; + "But now hearts cry that hearts are slaves, + "And toss and turn in narrow caves; + "But here there is nor law nor rule, + "Nor have hands held a weary tool; + "And here there is nor Change nor Death, + "But only kind and merry breath, + "For joy is God and God is joy." + With one long glance on maid and boy + And the pale blossom of the moon, + He fell into a Druid swoon. + + And in a wild and sudden dance + We mocked at Time and Fate and Chance + And swept out of the wattled hall + And came to where the dewdrops fall + Among the foamdrops of the sea, + And there we hushed the revelry; + And, gathering on our brows a frown, + Bent all our swaying bodies down, + And to the waves that glimmer by + That sloping green De Danaan sod + Sang "God is joy and joy is God. + "And things that have grown sad are wicked, + "And things that fear the dawn of the morrow + "Or the gray wandering osprey Sorrow." + + We danced to where in the winding thicket + The damask roses, bloom on bloom, + Like crimson meteors hang in the gloom, + And bending over them softly said, + Bending over them in the dance, + With a swift and friendly glance + From dewy eyes: "Upon the dead + "Fall the leaves of other roses, + "On the dead dim earth encloses: + "But never, never on our graves, + "Heaped beside the glimmering waves, + "Shall fall the leaves of damask roses. + "For neither Death nor Change comes near us, + "And all listless hours fear us, + "And we fear no dawning morrow, + "Nor the gray wandering osprey Sorrow." + + The dance wound through the windless woods; + The ever-summered solitudes; + Until the tossing arms grew still + Upon the woody central hill; + And, gathered in a panting band, + We flung on high each waving hand, + And sang unto the starry broods: + In our raised eyes there flashed a glow + Of milky brightness to and fro + As thus our song arose: "You stars, + "Across your wandering ruby cars + "Shake the loose reins: you slaves of God + "He rules you with an iron rod, + "He holds you with an iron bond, + "Each one woven to the other, + "Each one woven to his brother + "Like bubbles in a frozen pond; + "But we in a lonely land abide + "Unchainable as the dim tide, + "With hearts that know nor law nor rule, + "And hands that hold no wearisome tool + "Folded in love that fears no morrow, + "Nor the gray wandering osprey Sorrow." + + O Patric! for a hundred years + I chased upon that woody shore + The deer, the badger, and the boar. + O Patric! for a hundred years + At evening on the glimmering sands, + Beside the piled-up hunting spears, + These now outworn and withered hands + Wrestled among the island bands. + O Patric! for a hundred years + We went a-fishing in long boats + With bending sterns and bending bows, + And carven figures on their prows + Of bitterns and fish-eating stoats. + O Patric! for a hundred years + The gentle Niam was my wife; + But now two things devour my life; + The things that most of all I hate; + Fasting and prayers. + + S. PATRIC + + Tell on. + + USHEEN + + Yes, yes, + For these were ancient Usheen's fate + Loosed long ago from heaven's gate, + For his last days to lie in wait. + + When one day by the tide I stood, + I found in that forgetfulness + Of dreamy foam a staff of wood + From some dead warrior's broken lance: + I turned it in my hands; the stains + Of war were on it, and I wept, + Remembering how the Fenians stept + Along the blood-bedabbled plains, + Equal to good or grievous chance: + Thereon young Niam softly came + And caught my hands, but spake no word + Save only many times my name, + In murmurs, like a frighted bird. + We passed by woods, and lawns of clover, + And found the horse and bridled him, + For we knew well the old was over. + I heard one say "His eyes grow dim + "With all the ancient sorrow of men"; + And wrapped in dreams rode out again + With hoofs of the pale findrinny + Over the glimmering purple sea: + Under the golden evening light. + The immortals moved among the fountains + By rivers and the woods' old night; + Some danced like shadows on the mountains, + Some wandered ever hand in hand, + Or sat in dreams on the pale strand; + Each forehead like an obscure star + Bent down above each hooked knee: + And sang, and with a dreamy gaze + Watched where the sun in a saffron blaze + Was slumbering half in the sea ways; + And, as they sang, the painted birds + Kept time with their bright wings and feet; + Like drops of honey came their words, + But fainter than a young lamb's bleat. + + "An old man stirs the fire to a blaze, + "In the house of a child, of a friend, of a brother + "He has over-lingered his welcome; the days, + "Grown desolate, whisper and sigh to each other; + "He hears the storm in the chimney above, + "And bends to the fire and shakes with the cold, + "While his heart still dreams of battle and love, + "And the cry of the hounds on the hills of old. + + "But we are apart in the grassy places, + "Where care cannot trouble the least of our days, + "Or the softness of youth be gone from our faces, + "Or love's first tenderness die in our gaze. + "The hare grows old as she plays in the sun + "And gazes around her with eyes of brightness; + "Before the swift things that she dreamed of were done + "She limps along in an aged whiteness; + "A storm of birds in the Asian trees + "Like tulips in the air a-winging, + "And the gentle waves of the summer seas, + "That raise their heads and wander singing. + "Must murmur at last 'Unjust, unjust'; + "And 'My speed is a weariness,' falters the mouse + "And the kingfisher turns to a ball of dust, + "And the roof falls in of his tunnelled house. + + "But the love-dew dims our eyes till the day + "When God shall come from the sea with a sigh + "And bid the stars drop down from the sky, + "And the moon like a pale rose wither away." + + +BOOK II + + + Now, man of croziers, shadows called our names + And then away, away, like whirling flames; + And now fled by, mist-covered, without sound, + The youth and lady and the deer and hound; + "Gaze no more on the phantoms," Niam said, + And kissed my eyes, and, swaying her bright head + And her bright body, sang of faery and man + Before God was or my old line began; + Wars shadowy, vast, exultant; faeries of old + Who wedded men with rings of Druid gold; + And how those lovers never turn their eyes + Upon the life that fades and flickers and dies, + But love and kiss on dim shores far away + Rolled round with music of the sighing spray: + But sang no more, as when, like a brown bee + That has drunk full, she crossed the misty sea + With me in her white arms a hundred years + Before this day; for now the fall of tears + Troubled her song. + + I do not know if days + Or hours passed by, yet hold the morning rays + Shone many times among the glimmering flowers + Woven into her hair, before dark towers + Rose in the darkness, and the white surf gleamed + About them; and the horse of faery screamed + And shivered, knowing the Isle of many Fears, + Nor ceased until white Niam stroked his ears + And named him by sweet names. + + A foaming tide + Whitened afar with surge, fan-formed and wide, + Burst from a great door marred by many a blow + From mace and sword and pole-axe, long ago + When gods and giants warred. We rode between + The seaweed-covered pillars, and the green + And surging phosphorus alone gave light + On our dark pathway, till a countless flight + Of moonlit steps glimmered; and left and right + Dark statues glimmered over the pale tide + Upon dark thrones. Between the lids of one + The imaged meteors had flashed and run + And had disported in the stilly jet, + And the fixed stars had dawned and shone and set, + Since God made Time and Death and Sleep: the other + Stretched his long arm to where, a misty smother, + The stream churned, churned, and churned--his lips apart, + As though he told his never slumbering heart + Of every foamdrop on its misty way: + Tying the horse to his vast foot that lay + Half in the unvesselled sea, we climbed the stairs + And climbed so long, I thought the last steps were + Hung from the morning star; when these mild words + Fanned the delighted air like wings of birds: + "My brothers spring out of their beds at morn, + "A-murmur like young partridge: with loud horn + "They chase the noontide deer; + "And when the dew-drowned stars hang in the air + "Look to long fishing-lines, or point and pare + "An ash-wood hunting spear. + + "O sigh, O fluttering sigh, be kind to me; + "Flutter along the froth lips of the sea, + "And shores, the froth lips wet: + "And stay a little while, and bid them weep: + "Ah, touch their blue-veined eyelids if they sleep, + "And shake their coverlet. + + "When you have told how I weep endlessly, + "Flutter along the froth lips of the sea + "And home to me again, + "And in the shadow of my hair lie hid, + "And tell me how you came to one unbid, + "The saddest of all men." + + A maiden with soft eyes like funeral tapers, + And face that seemed wrought out of moonlit vapours, + And a sad mouth, that fear made tremulous + As any ruddy moth, looked down on us; + And she with a wave-rusted chain was tied + To two old eagles, full of ancient pride, + That with dim eyeballs stood on either side. + Few feathers were on their dishevelled wings, + For their dim minds were with the ancient things. + + "I bring deliverance," pearl-pale Niam said. + + "Neither the living, nor the unlabouring dead, + "Nor the high gods who never lived, may fight + "My enemy and hope; demons for fright + "Jabber and scream about him in the night; + "For he is strong and crafty as the seas + "That sprang under the Seven Hazel Trees, + "And I must needs endure and hate and weep, + "Until the gods and demons drop asleep, + "Hearing Aed touch the mournful strings of gold." + + "Is he so dreadful?" + + "Be not over bold, + "But flee while you may flee from him." + + Then I: + "This demon shall be pierced and drop and die, + "And his loose bulk be thrown in the loud tide." + + "Flee from him," pearl-pale Niam weeping cried, + "For all men flee the demons"; but moved not + My angry, king remembering soul one jot; + There was no mightier soul of Heber's line; + Now it is old and mouse-like: for a sign + I burst the chain: still earless, nerveless, blind, + Wrapped in the things of the unhuman mind, + In some dim memory or ancient mood + Still earless, nerveless, blind, the eagles stood. + + And then we climbed the stair to a high door; + A hundred horsemen on the basalt floor + Beneath had paced content: we held our way + And stood within: clothed in a misty ray + I saw a foam-white seagull drift and float + Under the roof, and with a straining throat + Shouted, and hailed him: he hung there a star, + For no man's cry shall ever mount so far; + Not even your God could have thrown down that hall; + Stabling His unloosed lightnings in their stall, + He had sat down and sighed with cumbered heart, + As though His hour were come. + + We sought the part + That was most distant from the door; green slime + Made the way slippery, and time on time + Showed prints of sea-born scales, while down through it + The captive's journeys to and fro were writ + Like a small river, and, where feet touched, came + A momentary gleam of phosphorus flame. + Under the deepest shadows of the hall + That maiden found a ring hung on the wall, + And in the ring a torch, and with its flare + Making a world about her in the air, + Passed under a dim doorway, out of sight + And came again, holding a second light + Burning between her fingers, and in mine + Laid it and sighed: I held a sword whose shine + No centuries could dim: and a word ran + Thereon in Ogham letters, "Mananan"; + That sea god's name, who in a deep content + Sprang dripping, and, with captive demons sent + Out of the seven-fold seas, built the dark hall + Rooted in foam and clouds, and cried to all + The mightier masters of a mightier race; + And at his cry there came no milk-pale face + Under a crown of thorns and dark with blood, + But only exultant faces. + + Niam stood + With bowed head, trembling when the white blade shone, + But she whose hours of tenderness were gone + Had neither hope nor fear. I bade them hide + Under the shadows till the tumults died + Of the loud crashing and earth shaking fight, + Lest they should look upon some dreadful sight; + And thrust the torch between the slimy flags. + A dome made out of endless carven jags, + Where shadowy face flowed into shadowy face, + Looked down on me; and in the self-same place + I waited hour by hour, and the high dome, + Windowless, pillarless, multitudinous home + Of faces, waited; and the leisured gaze + Was loaded with the memory of days + Buried and mighty. When through the great door + The dawn came in, and glimmered on the floor + With a pale light, I journeyed round the hall + And found a door deep sunken in the wall, + The least of doors; beyond on a dim plain + A little runnel made a bubbling strain, + And on the runnel's stony and bare edge + A husky demon dry as a withered sedge + Swayed, crooning to himself an unknown tongue: + In a sad revelry he sang and swung + Bacchant and mournful, passing to and fro + His hand along the runnel's side, as though + The flowers still grew there: far on the sea's waste + Shaking and waving, vapour vapour chased, + While high frail cloudlets, fed with a green light, + Like drifts of leaves, immovable and bright, + Hung in the passionate dawn. He slowly turned: + A demon's leisure: eyes, first white, now burned + Like wings of kingfishers; and he arose + Barking. We trampled up and down with blows + Of sword and brazen battle-axe, while day + Gave to high noon and noon to night gave way; + And when at withering of the sun he knew + The Druid sword of Mananan, he grew + To many shapes; I lunged at the smooth throat + Of a great eel; it changed, and I but smote + A fir-tree roaring in its leafless top; + I held a dripping corpse, with livid chop + And sunken shape, against my face and breast, + When I tore down the tree; but when the west + Surged up in plumy fire, I lunged and drave + Through heart and spine, and cast him in the wave, + Lest Niam shudder. + + Full of hope and dread + Those two came carrying wine and meat and bread, + And healed my wounds with unguents out of flowers + That feed white moths by some De Danaan shrine; + Then in that hall, lit by the dim sea shine, + We lay on skins of otters, and drank wine, + Brewed by the sea-gods, from huge cups that lay + Upon the lips of sea-gods in their day; + And then on heaped-up skins of otters slept. + But when the sun once more in saffron stept, + Rolling his flagrant wheel out of the deep, + We sang the loves and angers without sleep, + And all the exultant labours of the strong: + + But now the lying clerics murder song + With barren words and flatteries of the weak. + In what land do the powerless turn the beak + Of ravening Sorrow, or the hand of Wrath? + For all your croziers, they have left the path + And wander in the storms and clinging snows, + Hopeless for ever: ancient Usheen knows, + For he is weak and poor and blind, and lies + On the anvil of the world. + + S. PATRIC + + Be still: the skies + Are choked with thunder, lightning, and fierce wind, + For God has heard, and speaks His angry mind; + Go cast your body on the stones and pray, + For He has wrought midnight and dawn and day. + + USHEEN + + Saint, do you weep? I hear amid the thunder + The Fenian horses; armour torn asunder; + Laughter and cries; the armies clash and shock; + All is done now; I see the ravens flock; + Ah, cease, you mournful, laughing Fenian horn! + + We feasted for three days. On the fourth morn + I found, dropping sea foam on the wide stair, + And hung with slime, and whispering in his hair, + That demon dull and unsubduable; + And once more to a day-long battle fell, + And at the sundown threw him in the surge, + To lie until the fourth morn saw emerge + His new healed shape: and for a hundred years + So warred, so feasted, with nor dreams nor fears, + Nor languor nor fatigue: and endless feast, + An endless war. + + The hundred years had ceased; + I stood upon the stair: the surges bore + A beech bough to me, and my heart grew sore, + Remembering how I had stood by white-haired Finn + Under a beech at Emen and heard the thin + Outcry of bats. + + And then young Niam came + Holding that horse, and sadly called my name; + I mounted, and we passed over the lone + And drifting grayness, while this monotone, + Surly and distant, mixed inseparably + Into the clangour of the wind and sea. + + "I hear my soul drop down into decay, + "And Mananan's dark tower, stone by stone, + "Gather sea slime and fall the seaward way, + "And the moon goad the waters night and day, + "That all be overthrown. + + "But till the moon has taken all, I wage + "War on the mightiest men under the skies, + "And they have fallen or fled, age after age: + "Light is man's love, and lighter is man's rage; + "His purpose drifts and dies." + + And then lost Niam murmured, "Love, we go + "To the Island of Forgetfulness, for lo! + "The Islands of Dancing and of Victories + "Are empty of all power." + + "And which of these + "Is the Island of Content?" + + "None know," she said; + And on my bosom laid her weeping head. + + +BOOK III + + + Fled foam underneath us, and around us, a wandering and milky smoke, + High as the saddle girth, covering away from our glances the tide; + And those that fled, and that followed, from the + foam-pale distance broke; + The immortal desire of immortals we saw in their faces, and sighed. + + I mused on the chase with the Fenians, and Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair, + And never a song sang Niam, and over my finger-tips + Came now the sliding of tears and sweeping of mist-cold hair, + And now the warmth of sighs, and after the quiver of lips. + + Were we days long or hours long in riding, when rolled in a grisly peace, + An isle lay level before us, with dripping hazel and oak? + And we stood on a sea's edge we saw not; for whiter + than new-washed fleece + Fled foam underneath us, and round us, a wandering and milky smoke. + + And we rode on the plains of the sea's edge; the sea's edge + barren and gray, + Gray sand on the green of the grasses and over the dripping trees, + Dripping and doubling landward, as though they would hasten away + Like an army of old men longing for rest from the moan of the seas. + + But the trees grew taller and closer, immense in their wrinkling bark; + Dropping; a murmurous dropping; old silence and that one sound; + For no live creatures lived there, no weasels moved in the dark: + Long sighs arose in our spirits, beneath us bubbled the ground. + + And the ears of the horse went sinking away in the hollow night, + For, as drift from a sailor slow drowning the gleams + of the world and the sun, + Ceased on our hands and our faces, on hazel and oak leaf, the light, + And the stars were blotted above us, and the whole of the world was one. + + Till the horse gave a whinny; for, cumbrous with stems + of the hazel and oak, + A valley flowed down from his hoofs, and there in the long grass lay, + Under the starlight and shadow, a monstrous slumbering folk, + Their naked and gleaming bodies poured out and heaped in the way. + + And by them were arrow and war-axe, arrow and shield and blade; + And dew-blanched horns, in whose hollow a child of three years old + Could sleep on a couch of rushes, and all inwrought and inlaid, + And more comely than man can make them with bronze and silver and gold. + + And each of the huge white creatures was huger than fourscore men; + The tops of their ears were feathered, their hands were + the claws of birds, + And, shaking the plumes of the grasses and the leaves of the mural glen, + The breathing came from those bodies, long-warless, + grown whiter than curds. + + The wood was so spacious above them, that He who had stars for His flocks + Could fondle the leaves with His fingers, nor go from + His dew-cumbered skies; + So long were they sleeping, the owls had builded their nests + in their locks, + Filling the fibrous dimness with long generations of eyes. + + And over the limbs and the valley the slow owls wandered and came, + Now in a place of star-fire, and now in a shadow place wide; + And the chief of the huge white creatures, his knees + in the soft star-flame, + Lay loose in a place of shadow: we drew the reins by his side. + + Golden the nails of his bird-claws, flung loosely along the dim ground; + In one was a branch soft-shining, with bells more many than sighs, + In midst of an old man's bosom; owls ruffling and pacing around, + Sidled their bodies against him, filling the shade with their eyes. + + And my gaze was thronged with the sleepers; no, + not since the world began, + In realms where the handsome were many, nor in glamours by demons flung, + Have faces alive with such beauty been known to the salt eye of man, + Yet weary with passions that faded when the seven-fold seas were young. + + And I gazed on the bell-branch, sleep's forebear, + far sung by the Sennachies. + I saw how those slumberers, grown weary, there camping in grasses deep, + Of wars with the wide world and pacing the shores of the wandering seas, + Laid hands on the bell-branch and swayed it, and fed of unhuman sleep. + + Snatching the horn of Niam, I blew a lingering note; + Came sound from those monstrous sleepers, a sound like + the stirring of flies. + He, shaking the fold of his lips, and heaving the pillar of his throat, + Watched me with mournful wonder out of the wells of his eyes. + + I cried, "Come out of the shadow, king of the nails of gold! + "And tell of your goodly household and the goodly works of your hands, + "That we may muse in the starlight and talk of the battles of old; + "Your questioner, Usheen, is worthy, he comes from the Fenian lands." + + Half open his eyes were, and held me, dull with + the smoke of their dreams; + His lips moved slowly in answer, no answer out of them came; + Then he swayed in his fingers the bell-branch, slow dropping + a sound in faint streams + Softer than snow-flakes in April and piercing the marrow like flame. + + Wrapt in the wave of that music, with weariness more than of earth, + The moil of my centuries filled me; and gone like a sea-covered stone + Were the memories of the whole of my sorrow and the memories + of the whole of my mirth, + And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone. + + In the roots of the grasses, the sorrels, I laid my body as low; + And the pearl-pale Niam lay by me, her brow on the midst of my breast; + And the horse was gone in the distance, and years after years 'gan flow; + Square leaves of the ivy moved over us, binding us down to our rest. + + And, man of the many white croziers, a century there I forgot; + How the fetlocks drip blood in the battle, when + the fallen on fallen lie rolled; + How the falconer follows the falcon in the weeds of the heron's plot, + And the names of the demons whose hammers made armour for Conhor of old. + + And, man of the many white croziers, a century there I forgot; + That the spear-shaft is made out of ashwood, the shield + out of ozier and hide; + How the hammers spring on the anvil, on the spearhead's burning spot; + How the slow, blue-eyed oxen of Finn low sadly at evening tide. + + But in dreams, mild man of the croziers, driving the dust + with their throngs, + Moved round me, of seamen or landsmen, all who are winter tales; + Came by me the kings of the Red Branch, with roaring + of laughter and songs, + Or moved as they moved once, love-making or piercing + the tempest with sails. + + Came Blanid, Mac Nessa, tall Fergus who feastward of old time slunk, + Cook Barach, the traitor; and warward, the spittle + on his beard never dry, + Dark Balor, as old as a forest, car borne, his mighty head sunk + Helpless, men lifting the lids of his weary and death-making eye. + + And by me, in soft red raiment, the Fenians moved in loud streams, + And Grania, walking and smiling, sewed with her needle of bone, + So lived I and lived not, so wrought I and wrought not, + with creatures of dreams, + In a long iron sleep, as a fish in the water goes dumb as a stone. + + At times our slumber was lightened. When the sun was on silver or gold; + When brushed with the wings of the owls, in the dimness + they love going by; + When a glow-worm was green on a grass leaf, lured from + his lair in the mould; + Half wakening, we lifted our eyelids, and gazed on the grass with a sigh. + + So watched I when, man of the croziers, at the heel of a century fell, + Weak, in the midst of the meadow, from his miles in the midst of the air, + A starling like them that forgathered 'neath a moon waking + white as a shell. + When the Fenians made foray at morning with Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair. + + I awoke: the strange horse without summons out of the distance ran, + Thrusting his nose to my shoulder; he knew in his bosom deep + That once more moved in my bosom the ancient sadness of man, + And that I would leave the immortals, their dimness, + their dews dropping sleep. + + O, had you seen beautiful Niam grow white as the waters are white, + Lord of the croziers, you even had lifted your hands and wept: + But, the bird in my fingers, I mounted, remembering alone that delight + Of twilight and slumber were gone, and that hoofs impatiently stept. + + I cried, "O Niam! O white one! if only a twelve-houred day, + "I must gaze on the beard of Finn, and move where the old men and young + "In the Fenians' dwellings of wattle lean on the chessboards and play, + "Ah, sweet to me now were even bald Conan's slanderous tongue! + + "Like me were some galley forsaken far off in Meridian isle. + "Remembering its long-oared companions, sails turning + to thread-bare rags; + "No more to crawl on the seas with long oars mile after mile, + "But to be amid shooting of flies and flowering of rushes and flags." + + Their motionless eyeballs of spirits grown mild with mysterious thought + Watched her those seamless faces from the valley's glimmering girth; + As she murmured, "O wandering Usheen, the strength of the + bell-branch is naught, + "For there moves alive in your fingers the fluttering sadness of earth. + + "Then go through the lands in the saddle and see what the mortals do, + "And softly come to your Niam over the tops of the tide; + "But weep for your Niam, O Usheen, weep; for if only your shoe + "Brush lightly as haymouse earth's pebbles, you will come + no more to my side. + + "O flaming lion of the world, O when will you turn to your rest?" + "I saw from a distant saddle; from the earth she made her moan; + "I would die like a small withered leaf in the autumn, + for breast unto breast + "We shall mingle no more, nor our gazes empty their sweetness lone. + + "In the isles of the farthest seas where only the spirits come. + "Were the winds less soft than the breath of a pigeon + who sleeps on her nest, + "Nor lost in the star-fires and odours the sound of the sea's vague drum? + "O flaming lion of the world, O when will you turn to your rest?" + + The wailing grew distant; I rode by the woods of the wrinkling bark, + Where ever is murmurous dropping, old silence and that one sound; + For no live creatures live there, no weasels move in the dark; + In a reverie forgetful of all things, over the bubbling ground. + + And I rode by the plains of the sea's edge, where all is barren and gray, + Gray sands on the green of the grasses and over the dripping trees, + Dripping and doubling landward, as though they would hasten away, + Like an army of old men lounging for rest from the moan of the seas. + + And the winds made the sands on the sea's edge turning and turning go, + As my mind made the names of the Fenians. Far from the hazel and oak, + I rode away on the surges, where, high as the saddle bow, + Fled foam underneath me, and round me, a wandering and milky smoke. + + Long fled the foam-flakes around me, the winds fled out of the vast, + Snatching the bird in secret; nor knew I, embosomed apart, + When they froze the cloth on my body like armour riveted fast, + For Remembrance, lifting her leanness, keened in the gates of my heart. + + Till fattening the winds of the morning, an odour of new-mown hay + Came, and my forehead fell low, and my tears like berries fell down; + Later a sound came, half lost in the sound of a shore far away, + From the great grass-barnacle calling, and later the shore-weeds brown. + + If I were as I once was, the strong hoofs crushing + the sand and the shells, + Coming out of the sea as the dawn comes, a chaunt of love on my lips, + Not coughing, my head on my knees, and praying, and wroth with the bells, + I would leave no saint's head on his body from Rachlin to Bera of ships. + + Making way from the kindling surges, I rode on a bridle-path + Much wondering to see upon all hands, of wattles and woodwork made, + Your bell-mounted churches, and guardless the sacred cairn and the rath, + And a small and a feeble populace stooping with mattock and spade. + + Or weeding or ploughing with faces a-shining with much-toil wet; + While in this place and that place, with bodies unglorious, + their chieftains stood, + Awaiting in patience the straw-death, croziered one, caught in your net: + Went the laughter of scorn from my mouth like the roaring + of wind in a wood. + + And because I went by them so huge and so speedy with eyes so bright, + Came after the hard gaze of youth, or an old man lifted his head: + And I rode and I rode, and I cried out, "The Fenians hunt + wolves in the night, + So sleep thee by daytime." A voice cried, "The Fenians + a long time are dead." + + A whitebeard stood hushed on the pathway, the flesh + of his face as dried grass, + And in folds round his eyes and his mouth, he sad + as a child without milk; + And the dreams of the islands were gone, and I knew how + men sorrow and pass, + And their hound, and their horse, and their love, and their eyes + that glimmer like silk. + + And wrapping my face in my hair, I murmured, "In old age they ceased"; + And my tears were larger than berries, and I murmured, + "Where white clouds lie spread + "On Crevroe or broad Knockfefin, with many of old they feast + "On the floors of the gods." He cried, "No, the gods + a long time are dead." + + And lonely and longing for Niam, I shivered and turned me about, + The heart in me longing to leap like a grasshopper into her heart; + I turned and rode to the westward, and followed the sea's old shout + Till I saw where Maive lies sleeping till starlight and midnight part. + + And there at the foot of the mountain, two carried a sack full of sand, + They bore it with staggering and sweating, but fell + with their burden at length: + Leaning down from the gem-studded saddle, I flung it + five yards with my hand, + With a sob for men waxing so weakly, a sob for the Fenian's old strength. + + The rest you have heard of, O croziered one; how, when divided the girth, + I fell on the path, and the horse went away like a summer fly; + And my years three hundred fell on me, and I rose, + and walked on the earth, + A creeping old man, full of sleep, with the spittle + on his beard never dry. + + How the men of the sand-sack showed me a church with its belfry in air; + Sorry place, where for swing of the war-axe in my dim eyes + the crozier gleams; + What place have Caolte and Conan, and Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair? + Speak, you too are old with your memories, an old man surrounded + with dreams. + + S. PATRIC + + Where the flesh of the footsole clingeth on the burning stones + is their place; + Where the demons whip them with wires on the burning stones of wide hell, + Watching the blessed ones move far off, and the smile on God's face, + Between them a gateway of brass, and the howl of the angels who fell. + + USHEEN + + Put the staff in my hands; for I go to the Fenians, O cleric, to chaunt + The war-songs that roused them of old; they will rise, making clouds + with their breath + Innumerable, singing, exultant; the clay underneath them shall pant, + And demons be broken in pieces, and trampled beneath them in death. + + And demons afraid in their darkness; deep horror of eyes and of wings, + Afraid their ears on the earth laid, shall listen and rise up and weep; + Hearing the shaking of shields and the quiver of stretched bowstrings, + Hearing hell loud with a murmur, as shouting and mocking we sweep. + + We will tear out the flaming stones, and batter the gateway of brass + And enter, and none sayeth "No" when there enters the strongly + armed guest; + Make clean as a broom cleans, and march on as oxen move over young grass; + Then feast, making converse of wars, and of old wounds, + and turn to our rest. + + S. PATRIC + + On the flaming stones, without refuge, the limbs of the Fenians are tost; + None war on the masters of Hell, who could break up the world + in their rage; + But kneel and wear out the flags and pray for your soul that is lost + Through the demon love of its youth and its godless and passionate age. + + USHEEN + + Ah, me! to be shaken with coughing and broken with old age and pain, + Without laughter, a show unto children, alone with remembrance and fear; + All emptied of purple hours as a beggar's cloak in the rain, + As a hay-cock out on the flood, or a wolf sucked under a weir. + + It were sad to gaze on the blessed and no man I loved of old there; + I throw down the chain of small stones! when life in my body has ceased, + I will go to Caolte, and Conan, and Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair, + And dwell in the house of the Fenians, be they in flames or at feast. + + + + +GLOSSARY AND NOTES + + +_The Pronunciation of the Irish Words._--When I wrote the greater number +of these poems I had hardly considered the question seriously. I copied +at times somebody's perhaps fanciful phonetic spelling, and at times the +ancient spelling as I found it in some literal translation, pronouncing +the words always as they were spelt. I do not suppose I would have +defended this system at any time, but I do not yet know what system to +adopt. The modern pronunciation, which is usually followed by those who +spell the words phonetically, is certainly unlike the pronunciation of +the time when classical Irish literature was written, and, so far as I +know, no Irish scholar who writes in English or French has made that +minute examination of the way the names come into the rhythms and +measures of the old poems which can alone discover the old +pronunciation. A French Celtic scholar gave me the pronunciation of a +few names, and told me that Mr. Whitley Stokes had written something +about the subject in German, but I am ignorant of German. If I ever +learn the old pronunciation, I will revise all these poems, but at +present I can only affirm that I have not treated my Irish names as +badly as the mediæval writers of the stories of King Arthur treated +their Welsh names. + +_Mythological Gods and Heroes._--I refer the reader for such names as +Balor and Finn and Usheen to Lady Gregory's "Cuchulain of Muirthemne" +and to her "Gods and Fighting Men." + +_The Ballad of Father Gilligan._--A tradition among the people of +Castleisland, Kerry. + +_The Ballad of Father O'Hart._--This ballad is founded on the story of a +certain Father O'Hart, priest of Coloony, Sligo, in the last century, as +told by the present priest of Coloony in his _History of Ballisodare and +Kilvarnet_. The robbery of the lands of Father O'Hart was a kind of +robbery which occurred but rarely during the penal laws. Catholics, +forbidden to own landed property, evaded the law by giving a Protestant +nominal possession of their estates. There are instances on record in +which poor men were nominal owners of immense estates. + +_The Ballad of the Foxhunter._--Founded on an incident, probably itself +a Tipperary tradition, in Kickham's _Knockagow_. + +_Bell-branch._--A legendary branch whose shaking casts all men into a +sleep. + +_The Countess Cathleen._--I found the story of the Countess Cathleen in +what professed to be a collection of Irish folk-lore in an Irish +newspaper some years ago. I wrote to the compiler, asking about its +source, but got no answer, but have since heard that it was translated +from _Les Matinées de Timothè Trimm_ a good many years ago, and has been +drifting about the Irish press ever since. Léo Lespès gives it as an +Irish story, and though the editor of _Folklore_ has kindly advertised +for information, the only Christian variant I know of is a Donegal tale, +given by Mr. Larminie in his _West Irish Folk Tales and Romances_, of a +woman who goes to hell for ten years to save her husband, and stays +there another ten, having been granted permission to carry away as many +souls as could cling to her skirt. Léo Lespès may have added a few +details, but I have no doubt of the essential antiquity of what seems to +me the most impressive form of one of the supreme parables of the world. +The parable came to the Greeks in the sacrifice of Alcestis, but her +sacrifice was less overwhelming, less apparently irremediable. Léo +Lespès tells the story as follows:-- + + Ce que je vais vous dire est un récit du carême Irlandais. Le +boiteux, l'aveugle, le paralytique des rues de Dublin ou de Limerick, +vous le diraient mieux que moi, cher lecteur, si vous alliez le leur +demander, un sixpense d'argent à la main.--Il n'est pas une jeune fille +catholique à laquelle on ne l'ait appris pendant les jours de +préparation à la communion sainte, pas un berger des bords de la +Blackwater qui ne le puisse redire à la veillée. + + Il y a bien longtemps qu'il apparut tout-à -coup dans la vielle +Irlande deux marchands inconnus dont personne n'avait ouï parler, et qui +parlaient néanmoins avec la plus grande perfection la langue du pays. +Leurs cheveux étaient noirs et ferrés avec de l'or et leurs robes d'une +grande magnificence. + + Tous deux semblaient avoir le même âge; ils paraissaient être des +hommes de cinquante ans, car leur barbe grisonnait un peu. + + Or, à cette époque, comme aujourd'hui, l'Irlande était pauvre, car +le soleil avait été rare, et des récoltes presque nulles. Les indigents +ne savaient à quel sainte se vouer, et la misère devenait de plus en +plus terrible. + + Dans l'hôtellerie où descendirent les marchands fastueux on chercha +à pénétrer leurs desseins: mais ce fut en vain, ils demeurèrent +silencieux et discrets. + + Et pendant qu'ils demeurèrent dans l'hôtellerie, ils ne cessèrent +de compter et de recompter des sacs de pièces d'or, dont la vive clarté +s'apercevait à travers les vitres du logis. + + Gentlemen, leur dit l'hôtesse un jour, d'où vient que vous êtes si +opulents, et que, venus pour secourir la misère publique, vous ne +fassiez pas de bonnes oeuvres? + + --Belle hôtesse, répondit l'un d'eux, nous n'avons pas voulu aller +au-devant d'infortunes honorables, dans la crainte d'être trompés par +des misères fictives: que la douleur frappe à la porte, nous ouvrirons. + + Le lendemain, quand on sut qu'il existait deux opulents étrangers +prêts à prodiguer l'or, la foule assiégea leur logis; mais les figures +des gens qui en sortaient étaient bien diverses. Les uns avaient la +fierté dans le regard, les autres portaient la honte au front. Les deux +trafiquants achetaient des âmes pour le démon. L'âme d'un vieillard +valait vingt pièces d'or, pas un penny de plus; car Satan avait eu le +temps d'y former hypothèque. L'âme d'une épose en valait cinquante quand +elle était jolie, ou cent quand elle était laide. L'âme d'une jeune +fille se payait des prix fous: les fleurs les plus belles et les plus +pures sont les plus chères. + + Pendant ce temps, il existait dans la ville un ange de beauté, la +comtesse Ketty O'Connor. Elle était l'idole du peuple, et la providence +des indigents. Dès qu'elle eut appris que des mécréants profitaient de +la misère publique pour dérober des coeurs à Dieu, elle fit appeler son +majordome. + + --Master Patrick, lui dit elle, combien ai-je de pièces d'or dans +mon coffre? + + --Cent mille. + + --Combien de bijoux? + + --Peur autant d'argent. + + --Combien de châteux, de bois et de terres? + + --Pour le double de ces sommes. + + --Eh bien! Patrick, vendez tout ce qui n'est pas or et +apportez-m'en +le montant. Je ne veux garder à moi que ce castel et le champ qui +l'entoure. + + Deux jours après, les ordres de la pieuse Ketty étaient exécutés et +le +trésor était distribué aux pauvres au fur et à mesure de leurs besoins. + + Ceci ne faisait pas le compte, dit la tradition, des commis-voyageurs +du malin esprit, qui ne trouvaient plus d'âmes à acheter. + + Aidés par un valet infâme, ils pénétrèrent dans la retraite de la +noble dame et lui dérobèrent le reste de son trésor ... en vain +lutta-t-elle de toutes ses forces pour sauver le contenu de son coffre, les +larrons diaboliques furent les plus forts. Si Ketty avait eu les moyens de +faire un signe de croix, ajoute la légende Irlandaise, elle les eût mis en +fuite, mais ses mains étaient captives--Le larcin fut effectué. Alors les +pauvres sollicitèrent en vain près de Ketty dépouillée, elle ne pouvait +plus secourir leur misère;--elle les abandonnait à la tentation. Pourtant +il n'y avait plus que huit jours à passer pour que les grains et lea +fourrages arrivassent en abondance des pays d'Orient. Mais, huit jours, +c'était un siècle: huit jours nécessitaient une somme immense pour subvenir +aux exigences de la disette, et les pauvres allaient ou expirer dans les +angousses de la faim, ou, reniant les saintes maximes de l'Evangile, vendre +à vil prix leur âme, le plus beau présent de la munificence du Seigneur +tout-puissant. + + Et Ketty n'avait plus une obole, car elle avait abandonné son châteux +aux malheureux. + + Elle passa douze heures dans les larmes et le deuil, arrachant ses +cheveux couleur de soleil et meurtrissant son sein couleur du lis: puis +elle se leva résolue, animée par un vif sentiment de désespoir. + + Elle se rendit chez les marchands d'âmes. + + --Que voulez-vous? dirent ils. + + --Vous achetez des âmes? + + --Oui, un peu malgré vous, n'est ce pas, sainte aux yeux de saphir? + + --Aujourd'hui je viens vous proposer un marché, reprit elle. + + --Lequel? + + --J'ai une âme a vendre; mais elle est chère. + + --Qu'importe si elle est précieuse? l'âme, comme le diamant, +s'apprécie à sa blancheur. + + --C'est la mienne, dit Ketty. + + Les deux envoyés de Satan tressaillirent. Leurs griffes s'allongèrent +sous leurs gants de cuir; leurs yeux gris étincelèrent--l'âme, pure, +immaculée, virginale de Ketty!... c'était une acquisition inappréciable. + + --Gentille dame, combien voulez-vous? + + --Cent cinquante mille écus d'or. + + --C'est fait, dirent les marchands: et ils tendirent à Ketty un +parchemin cacheté de noir, qu'elle signa en frissonnant. + + La somme lui fut comptée. + + Des qu'elle fut rentrée, elle dit au majordome: + + --Tenez, distribuez ceci. Avec la somme que je vous donne les pauvres +attendront la huitaine nécessaire et pas une de leurs âmes ne sera livrée +au démon. + + Puis elle s'enferma et recommanda qu'on ne vint pas la déranger. + + Trois jours se passèrent; elle n'appela pas; elle ne sortit pas. + + Quand on ouvrit sa porte, on la trouva raide et froide: elle était +morte de douleur. + + Mais la vente de cette âme si adorable dans sa charité fut déclarée +nulle par le Seigneur: car elle avait sauvé ses concitoyens de la morte +éternelle. + + Après la huitaine, des vaisseaux nombreux amenèrent à l'Irlande +affamée d'immenses provisions de grains. + + La famine n'était plus possible. Quant aux marchands, ils disparurent +de leur hôtellerie, sans qu'on sût jamais ce qu'ils étaient devenus. + + Toutefois, les pêcheurs de la Blackwater prétendent qu'ils sont +enchainés dans une prison souterraine par ordre de Lucifer jusqu'au moment +où ils pourront livrer l'âme de Ketty qui leur a échappé. Je vous dis la +légende telle que je la sais. + + --Mais les pauvres l'ont raconté d'âge en âge et les enfants de Cork +et de Dublin chantent encore la ballade dont voici les derniers couplets:-- + + Pour sauver les pauvres qu'elle aime Ketty donna Son esprit, sa croyance +même: Satan paya Cette âme au dévoûment sublime, En écus d'or, Disons pour +racheter son crime, _Confiteor_. + + Mais l'ange qui se fit coupable Par charité Au séjour d'amour ineffable +Est remonté. Satan vaincu n'eut pas de prise Sur ce coeur d'or; Chantons +sous la nef de l'église, _Confiteor_. + + N'est ce pas que ce récit, né de l'imagination des poètes catholiques +de la verte Erin, est une véritable récit de carême? + +_The Countess Cathleen_ was acted in Dublin in 1899, with Mr. Marcus St. +John and Mr. Trevor Lowe as the First and Second Demon, Mr. Valentine +Grace as Shemus Rua, Master Charles Sefton as Teig, Madame San Carola as +Mary, Miss Florence Farr as Aleel, Miss Anna Mather as Oona, Mr. Charles +Holmes as the Herdsman, Mr. Jack Wilcox as the Gardener, Mr. Walford as +a Peasant, Miss Dorothy Paget as a Spirit, Miss M. Kelly as a Peasant +Woman, Mr. T.E. Wilkinson as a Servant, and Miss May Whitty as The +Countess Kathleen. They had to face a very vehement opposition stirred +up by a politician and a newspaper, the one accusing me in a pamphlet, +the other in long articles day after day, of blasphemy because of the +language of the demons or of Shemus Rua, and because I made a woman sell +her soul and yet escape damnation, and of a lack of patriotism because I +made Irish men and women, who, it seems, never did such a thing, sell +theirs. The politician or the newspaper persuaded some forty Catholic +students to sign a protest against the play, and a Cardinal, who avowed +that he had not read it, to make another, and both politician and +newspaper made such obvious appeals to the audience to break the peace, +that a score or so of police were sent to the theatre to see that they +did not. I had, however, no reason to regret the result, for the stalls, +containing almost all that was distinguished in Dublin, and a gallery of +artisans alike insisted on the freedom of literature. + +After the performance in 1899 I added the love scene between Aleel and +the Countess, and in this new form the play was revived in New York by +Miss Wycherley as well as being played a good deal in England and +America by amateurs. Now at last I have made a complete revision to make +it suitable for performance at the Abbey Theatre. The first two scenes +are almost wholly new, and throughout the play I have added or left out +such passages as a stage experience of some years showed me encumbered +the action; the play in its first form having been written before I knew +anything of the theatre. I have left the old end, however, in the +version printed in the body of this book, because the change for +dramatic purposes has been made for no better reason than that +audiences--even at the Abbey Theatre--are almost ignorant of Irish +mythology--or because a shallow stage made the elaborate vision of armed +angels upon a mountain-side impossible. The new end is particularly +suited to the Abbey stage, where the stage platform can be brought out +in front of the proscenium and have a flight of steps at one side up +which the Angel comes, crossing towards the back of the stage at the +opposite side. The principal lighting is from two arc lights in the +balcony which throw their lights into the faces of the players, making +footlights unnecessary. The room at Shemus Rua's house is suggested by a +great grey curtain--a colour which becomes full of rich tints under the +stream of light from the arcs. The two or more arches in the third scene +permit the use of a gauze. The short front scene before the last is just +long enough when played with incidental music to allow the scene set +behind it to be changed. The play when played without interval in this +way lasts a little over an hour. + +The play was performed at the Abbey Theatre for the first time on +December 14, 1911, Miss Maire O'Neill taking the part of the Countess, +and the last scene from the going out of the Merchants was as follows:-- + + (MERCHANTS _rush out_. ALEEL _crawls into the middle of the room; + the twilight has fallen and gradually darkens as the scene goes + on_.) + + ALEEL + + They're rising up--they're rising through the earth, + Fat Asmodel and giddy Belial, + And all the fiends. Now they leap in the air. + But why does Hell's gate creak so? Round and round. + Hither and hither, to and fro they're running. + +(_He moves about as though the air was full of spirits._ OONA _enters_.) + + Crouch down, old heron, out of the blind storm. + + OONA + + Where is the Countess Cathleen? All this day + Her eyes were full of tears, and when for a moment + Her hand was laid upon my hand, it trembled. + And now I do not know where she is gone. + + ALEEL + + Cathleen has chosen other friends than us, + And they are rising through the hollow world. + Demons are out, old heron. + + OONA + + God guard her soul. + + ALEEL + + She's bartered it away this very hour, + As though we two were never in the world. + +(_He kneels beside her, but does not seem to hear her words. The_ +PEASANTS _return. They carry the_ COUNTESS CATHLEEN _and lay her upon +the ground before_ OONA _and_ ALEEL. _She lies there as if dead._) + + OONA + + O, that so many pitchers of rough clay + Should prosper and the porcelain break in two! + +(_She kisses the hands of_ CATHLEEN.) + + A PEASANT + + We were under the tree where the path turns + When she grew pale as death and fainted away. + + CATHLEEN + + O, hold me, and hold me tightly, for the storm + Is dragging me away. + +(OONA _takes her in her arms_. A WOMAN _begins to wail_.) + + PEASANTS + + Hush! + + PEASANTS + + Hush! + + PEASANT WOMEN + + Hush! + + OTHER PEASANT WOMEN + + Hush! + + CATHLEEN (_half rising_) + + Lay all the bags of money in a heap, + And when I am gone, old Oona, share them out + To every man and woman: judge, and give + According to their needs. + + A PEASANT WOMAN + + And will she give + Enough to keep my children through the dearth? + + ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN + + O, Queen of Heaven, and all you blessed saints, + Let us and ours be lost, so she be shriven. + + CATHLEEN + + Bend down your faces, Oona and Aleel; + I gaze upon them as the swallow gazes + Upon the nest under the eave, before + She wander the loud waters. Do not weep + Too great a while, for there is many a candle + On the High Altar though one fall. Aleel, + Who sang about the dancers of the woods, + That know not the hard burden of the world, + Having but breath in their kind bodies, farewell! + And farewell, Oona, you who played with me + And bore me in your arms about the house + When I was but a child--and therefore happy, + Therefore happy even like those that dance. + The storm is in my hair and I must go. + +(_She dies._) + + + OONA + + Bring me the looking-glass. + +(A WOMAN _brings it to her out of inner room_. OONA _holds glass over +the lips of_ CATHLEEN. _All is silent for a moment, then she speaks in a +half-scream._) + + O, she is dead! + + A PEASANT + + She was the great white lily of the world. + + A PEASANT + + She was more beautiful than the pale stars. + + AN OLD PEASANT WOMAN + + The little plant I loved is broken in two. + +(ALEEL _takes looking-glass from_ OONA _and flings it upon floor, so +that it is broken in many pieces_.) + + ALEEL + + I shatter you in fragments, for the face + That brimmed you up with beauty is no more; + And die, dull heart, for you that were a mirror + Are but a ball of passionate dust again! + And level earth and plumy sea, rise up! + And haughty sky, fall down! + + A PEASANT WOMAN + + Pull him upon his knees, + His curses will pluck lightning on our heads. + + ALEEL + + Angels and devils clash in the middle air, + And brazen swords clang upon brazen helms. + Look, look, a spear has gone through Belial's eye! + +(_A winged_ ANGEL, _carrying a torch and a sword, enters from the_ R. +_with eyes fixed upon some distant thing. The_ ANGEL _is about to pass +out to the_ L. _when_ ALEEL _speaks. The_ ANGEL _stops a moment and +turns_.) + + Look no more on the half-closed gates of Hell, + But speak to me whose mind is smitten of God, + That it may be no more with mortal things: + And tell of her who lies there. + +(_The_ ANGEL _turns again and is about to go, but is seized by_ ALEEL.) + + Till you speak + You shall not drift into eternity. + + THE ANGEL + + The light beats down; the gates of pearl are wide. + And she is passing to the floor of peace, + And Mary of the seven times wounded heart + Has kissed her lips, and the long blessed hair + Has fallen on her face; the Light of Lights + Looks always on the motive, not the deed, + The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone. + +(ALEEL _releases the_ ANGEL _and kneels_.) + + OONA + + Tell them to walk upon the floor of peace, + That I would die and go to her I love; + The years like great black oxen tread the world, + And God the herdsman goads them on behind, + And I am broken by their passing feet. + +_Down by the Salley Gardens._--An extension of three lines sung to me by +an old woman at Ballisodare. + +_Findrinny (Findruine)._--A kind of white bronze. + +_Finvarra (Finbar)._--The king of the faeries of Connaught. + +_Hell._--In the older Irish books Hell is always cold, and it may be +because the Fomoroh, or evil powers, ruled over the north and the +winter. Christianity adopted as far as possible the Pagan symbolism in +Ireland as elsewhere, and Irish poets, when they spoke of "the cold +flagstone of Hell," may have repeated Pagan symbolism. The folk-tales, +and Keating in his description of Hell, make use, however, of the +ordinary symbolism of fire. + +_The Lamentation of the Pensioner._--This poem is little more than a +translation into verse of the very words of an old Wicklow peasant. Fret +means doom or destiny. + +_The Land of Heart's Desire._--This little play was produced at the +Avenue Theatre in the spring of 1894, with the following cast:--Maurteen +Bruin, Mr. James Welch; Shawn Bruin, Mr. A.E.W. Mason; Father Hart, Mr. +G.R. Foss; Bridget Bruin, Miss Charlotte Morland; Maire Bruin, Miss +Winifred Fraser; A Faery Child, Miss Dorothy Paget. It ran for a little +over six weeks. It was revived in America in 1901, when it was taken on +tour by Mrs. Lemoyne. It has been played two or three times +professionally since then in America and a great many times in England +and America by amateurs. Till lately it was not part of the repertory of +the Abbey Theatre, for I had grown to dislike it without knowing what I +disliked in it. This winter, however, I have made many revisions and now +it plays well enough to give me pleasure. It is printed in this book in +the new form, which was acted for the first time on February 22, 1912, +at the Abbey Theatre, Dublin. At the Abbey Theatre, where the platform +of the stage comes out in front of the curtain, the curtain falls before +the priest's last words. He remains outside the curtain and the words +are spoken to the audience like an epilogue. + +_The Meditation of the Old Fisherman._--This poem is founded upon some +things a fisherman said to me when out fishing in Sligo Bay. + +_Northern Cold._--The Fomor, the powers of death and darkness and cold +and evil, came from the north. + +_Nuala._--The wife of Finvarra. + +_Rose._--The rose is a favourite symbol with the Irish poets, and has +given a name to several poems both Gaelic and English, and is used in +love poems, in addresses to Ireland like Mr. Aubrey de Vere's poem +telling how "The little black rose shall be red at last," and in +religious poems, like the old Gaelic one which speaks of "the Rose of +Friday," meaning the Rose of Austerity. + +_Salley._--Willow. + +_Seven Hazel-trees._--There was once a well overshadowed by seven sacred +hazel-trees, in the midst of Ireland. A certain woman plucked their +fruit, and seven rivers arose out of the well and swept her away. In my +poems this well is the source of all the waters of this world, which are +therefore seven-fold. + +_The Wanderings of Usheen._--The poem is founded upon the middle Irish +dialogues of S. Patric and Usheen and a certain Gaelic poem of the last +century. The events it describes, like the events in most of the poems +in this volume, are supposed to have taken place rather in the +indefinite period, made up of many periods, described by the folk-tales, +than in any particular century; it therefore, like the later Fenian +stories themselves, mixes much that is mediæval with much that is +ancient. The Gaelic poems do not make Usheen go to more than one island, +but a story in _Silva Gadelica_ describes "four paradises," an island to +the north, an island to the west, an island to the south, and Adam's +paradise in the east. + + _Printed in Great Britain by_ + + UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED + WOKING AND LONDON + + Transcriber's Notes: + Page 16: 'thictkes' changed to 'thickets' + Page 172: 'He brings in' could be 'She brings in' + Page 263: 'Before this duy' changed to 'Before this day' + Page 290: 'Far from the hazel and oak.' changed to 'Far from + the hazel and oak,' + Page 295: 'move far off' could be 'move far oft' + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS, by W. B. 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B. Yeats</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of +the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; +margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Poems</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; +margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: W. B. Yeats</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 14, 2012 +[EBook #38877]<br /> +[Most recently updated: March 28, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: +UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced +by: Produced by Irma Å pehar, Rory OConor and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net<br />(This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE +PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS, by W. B. YEATS ***</div> + +<!--Cover image--> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/cover.png" alt="Cover image" class="w75" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i"></a></span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii"></a></span></p> + +<p class="p6 center">POEMS</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> + +<div class="bbox center p6"> +<p class="center u">EVERY IRISHMAN'S LIBRARY</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Cr. 8vo., cloth, 3s. 6d. net each. With Frontispieces.</i></p> + +<p class="center">LIST OF VOLUMES</p> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Volumes"> +<tr><td align="right">1.</td><td align="left">Thomas Davis. <span class="smcap">Selections from his Prose and Poetry.</span> Edited by <span class="smcap">T.W. Rolleston</span>, M.A. (Dublin).</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">2.</td><td align="left">Wild Sports of the West. By <span class="smcap">W.H. Maxwell</span>. Edited by the <span class="smcap">Earl of Dunraven</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">3.</td><td align="left">Legends of Saints and Sinners from the Irish. Edited by <span class="smcap">Douglas Hyde</span>, LL.D. (Dublin).</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">4.</td><td align="left">The Book of Irish Humour. Edited by <span class="smcap">Charles L. Graves</span>, M.A. (Oxon.).</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">5.</td><td align="left">Irish Orators and Oratory. With an Introduction by Professor <span class="smcap">T.M. Kettle</span>, M.P.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">6.</td><td align="left">The Book of Irish Poetry. Edited by <span class="smcap">Alfred Perceval Graves</span>, M.A. (Dublin).</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">7.</td><td align="left">Standish O'Grady. <span class="smcap">Selected Essays and Passages.</span> Edited by <span class="smcap">Ernest A. Boyd</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">8.</td><td align="left">Recollections of Jonah Barrington. Edited by <span class="smcap">George A. Birmingham</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">9.</td><td align="left">Poems of Sir Samuel Ferguson. Edited by <span class="smcap">Alfred Perceval Graves</span>, M.A.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">10.</td><td align="left">Carleton's Stories of Irish Life. With an Introduction by <span class="smcap">Darrell Figgis</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">11.</td><td align="left">The Collegians. By <span class="smcap">Gerald Griffin</span>. With Introduction by <span class="smcap">Padraic Colum</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">12.</td><td align="left">Maria Edgeworth: <span class="smcap">Selections from her Works</span>. With an Introduction by <span class="smcap">Malcolm Cotter Seton</span>, M.A.</td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="center">T. FISHER UNWIN LTD., LONDON</p> +</div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="500" height="639" alt="Signature: WB Yeats" /> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv"></a></span></p> + + + +<h1 class="p6">POEMS</h1> + +<p class="center p6">BY<br /> +W. B. YEATS</p> + +<p class="center p6">LONDON<br /> +T. FISHER UNWIN LTD.<br /> +ADELPHI TERRACE +</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v"></a></span></p> + + +<p class="p6">"The Wanderings of Oisin" was published with +the lyrics now collected under the title "Crossways" +in 1888, "The Countess Cathleen" with the lyrics +now collected under the title "The Rose" in 1892, +and "The Land of Heart's Desire" by itself in 1894. +They were revised and reprinted in one volume in +1895, again revised and reprinted in 1899, and again +reprinted in 1901, 1904, 1908, 1912, 1913, 1919, +and 1920.</p> + +<p class="center">(<i>All rights reserved</i>)</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">vii</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h2> +</div> + + +<p>During the last year I have spent much time altering +"The Countess Cathleen" and "The Land of Heart's +Desire" that they might be a part of the repertory of +the Abbey Theatre. I had written them before I had +any practical experience, and I knew from the performance +of the one in Dublin in 1899 and of the +other in London in 1894 that they were full of +defects. But in their new shape—and each play has +been twice played during the winter—they have given +me some pleasure, and are, I think, easier to play +effectively than my later plays, depending less upon +the players and more upon the producer, both having +been imagined more for variety of stage-picture than +variety of mood in the player. It was, indeed, +the first performance of "The Countess Cathleen," +when our stage-pictures were made out of poor conventional +scenery and hired costumes, that set me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">viii</a></span> +writing plays where all would depend upon the +player. The first two scenes are wholly new, and +though I have left the old end in the body of this +book I have given in the notes an end less difficult +to producer and audience, and there are slight +alterations elsewhere in the poem. "The Land of +Heart's Desire," besides some mending in the details, +has been thrown back in time because the metrical +speech would have sounded unreal if spoken in a +country cottage now that we have so many dialect +comedies. The shades of Mrs. Fallan and Mrs. +Dillane and of Dan Bourke and the Tramp would +have seemed too boisterous or too vivid for shades +made cold and distant with the artifice of verse.</p> + +<p>I have not again retouched the lyric poems of my +youth, fearing some stupidity in my middle years, but +have changed two or three pages that I always knew +to be wrong in "The Wanderings of Usheen."</p> + +<p class="right">W.B. YEATS.</p> + +<p><i>June, 1912.</i></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">ix</a></span></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> +<a name="PREFACE_TO_THE_THIRD_EDITION" id= +"PREFACE_TO_THE_THIRD_EDITION"></a >PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION</h2> +</div> + + +<p>I have added some passages to "The Land of +Heart's Desire," and a new scene of some little +length, besides passages here and there, to "The +Countess Cathleen." The goddess has never come +to me with her hands so full that I have not found +many waste places after I had planted all that she +had brought me. The present version of "The +Countess Cathleen" is not quite the version adopted +by the Irish Literary Theatre a couple of years ago, +for our stage and scenery were capable of little; +and it may differ more from any stage version +I make in future, for it seems that my people of the +waters and my unhappy dead, in the third act, cannot +keep their supernatural essence, but must put on too +much of our mortality, in any ordinary theatre. I am +told that I must abandon a meaning or two and make +my merchants carry away the treasure themselves.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">x</a></span> +The act was written long ago, when I had seen so +few plays that I took pleasure in stage effects. +Indeed, I am not yet certain that a wealthy theatre +could not shape it to an impressive pageantry, or +that a theatre without any wealth could not lift it out +of pageantry into the mind, with a dim curtain, and +some dimly lighted players, and the beautiful voices +that should be as important in poetical as in musical +drama. The Elizabethan stage was so little imprisoned +in material circumstance that the Elizabethan imagination +was not strained by god or spirit, nor even +by Echo herself—no, not even when she answered, as +in "The Duchess of Malfi," in clear, loud words +which were not the words that had been spoken to +her. We have made a prison-house of paint and +canvas, where we have as little freedom as under our +own roofs, for there is no freedom in a house that has +been made with hands. All art moves in the cave of +the Chimæra, or in the garden of the Hesperides, or +in the more silent house of the gods, and neither +cave, nor garden, nor house can show itself clearly +but to the mind's eye.</p> + +<p>Besides rewriting a lyric or two, I have much +enlarged the note on "The Countess Cathleen," as +there has been some discussion in Ireland about the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">xi</a></span> +origin of the story, but the other notes are as they +have always been. They are short enough, but I do +not think that anybody who knows modern poetry +will find obscurities in this book. In any case, I +must leave my myths and symbols to explain themselves +as the years go by and one poems lights up +another, and the stories that friends, and one friend +in particular, have gathered for me, or that I have +gathered myself in many cottages, find their way into +the light. I would, if I could, add to that majestic +heraldry of the poets, that great and complicated +inheritance of images which written literature has +substituted for the greater and more complex inheritance +of spoken tradition, some new heraldic +images, gathered from the lips of the common people. +Christianity and the old nature faith have lain down +side by side in the cottages, and I would proclaim +that peace as loudly as I can among the kingdoms of +poetry, where there is no peace that is not joyous, no +battle that does not give life instead of death; I may +even try to persuade others, in more sober prose, that +there can be no language more worthy of poetry and +of the meditation of the soul than that which has +been made, or can be made, out of a subtlety of +desire, an emotion of sacrifice, a delight in order, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">xii</a></span> +are perhaps Christian, and myths and images that +mirror the energies of woods and streams, and of +their wild creatures. Has any part of that majestic +heraldry of the poets had a very different fountain? +Is it not the ritual of the marriage of heaven and +earth?</p> + +<p>These details may seem to many unnecessary; but +after all one writes poetry for a few careful readers +and for a few friends, who will not consider such +details unnecessary. When Cimabue had the cry +it was, it seems, worth thinking of those that run; +but to-day, when they can write as well as read, one +can sit with one's companions under the hedgerow +contentedly. If one writes well and has the patience, +somebody will come from among the runners and +read what one has written quickly, and go away +quickly, and write out as much as he can remember +in the language of the highway.</p> + +<p class="right">W.B. YEATS.</p> + +<p><i>January, 1901.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><sup>*</sup><sub>*</sub><sup>*</sup></p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">xiii</a></span></p> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of contents"> +<tr><td></td><td></td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_COUNTESS_CATHLEEN">The Countess Cathleen</a></span></td><td align="right">1</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_ROSE">The Rose</a></span>—</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#TO_THE_ROSE_UPON_THE_ROOD_OF_TIME">To the Rose upon the Rood of Time</a></td><td align="right">109</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#FERGUS_AND_THE_DRUID">Fergus and the Druid</a></td><td align="right">111</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_DEATH_OF_CUCHULAIN">The Death of Cuchulain</a></td><td align="right">114</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_ROSE_OF_THE_WORLD">The Rose of the World</a></td><td align="right">119</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_ROSE_OF_PEACE">The Rose of Peace</a></td><td align="right">120</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_ROSE_OF_BATTLE">The Rose of Battle</a></td><td align="right">121</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#A_FAERY_SONG">A Faery Song</a></td><td align="right">123</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_LAKE_ISLE_OF_INNISFREE">The Lake Isle of Innisfree</a></td><td align="right">124</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#A_CRADLE_SONG">A Cradle Song</a></td><td align="right">125</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_PITY_OF_LOVE">The Pity of Love</a></td><td align="right">126</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_SORROW_OF_LOVE">The Sorrow of Love</a></td><td align="right">127</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#WHEN_YOU_ARE_OLD">When You are Old</a></td><td align="right">128</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_WHITE_BIRDS">The White Birds</a></td><td align="right">129</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#A_DREAM_OF_DEATH">A Dream of Death</a></td><td align="right">131</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#A_DREAM_OF_A_BLESSED_SPIRIT">A Dream of a Blessed Spirit</a></td><td align="right">132</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#WHO_GOES_WITH_FERGUS">Who goes with Fergus</a></td><td align="right">133</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_MAN_WHO_DREAMED_OF_FAERYLAND">The Man who Dreamed of Faeryland</a></td><td align="right">134</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_DEDICATION_TO_A_BOOK_OF_STORIES_SELECTED_FROM_THE_IRISH_NOVELISTS">The Dedication to a Book of Stories selected from the Irish Novelists</a></td><td align="right">137</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_LAMENTATION_OF_THE_OLD_PENSIONER">The Lamentation of the Old Pensioner</a></td><td align="left">139<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">xiv</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_BALLAD_OF_FATHER_GILLIGAN">The Ballad of Father Gilligan</a></td><td align="right">140</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_TWO_TREES">The Two Trees</a></td><td align="right">143</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#TO_IRELAND_IN_THE_COMING_TIMES">To Ireland in the Coming Times</a></td><td align="right">145</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_LAND_OF_HEARTS_DESIRE">The Land of Heart's Desire</a></span></td><td align="right">149</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"><a href="#CROSSWAYS">Crossways</a></span>—</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_SONG_OF_THE_HAPPY_SHEPHERD">The Song of the Happy Shepherd</a></td><td align="right">197</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_SAD_SHEPHERD">The Sad Shepherd</a></td><td align="right">200</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_CLOAK_THE_BOAT_AND_THE_SHOES">The Cloak, The Boat, and the Shoes</a></td><td align="right">202</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#ANASHUYA_AND_VIJAYA">Anashuya and Vijaya</a></td><td align="right">203</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_INDIAN_UPON_GOD">The Indian upon God</a></td><td align="right">209</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_INDIAN_TO_HIS_LOVE">The Indian to his Love</a></td><td align="right">211</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_FALLING_OF_THE_LEAVES">The Falling of the Leaves</a></td><td align="right">213</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#EPHEMERA">Ephemera</a></td><td align="right">214</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_MADNESS_OF_KING_GOLL">The Madness of King Goll</a></td><td align="right">216</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_STOLEN_CHILD">The Stolen Child</a></td><td align="right">220</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#TO_AN_ISLE_IN_THE_WATER">To an Isle in the Water</a></td><td align="right">223</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#DOWN_BY_THE_SALLEY_GARDENS">Down by the Salley Gardens</a></td><td align="right">224</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_MEDITATION_OF_THE_OLD_FISHERMAN">The Meditation of the Old Fisherman</a></td><td align="right">225</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_BALLAD_OF_FATHER_OHART">The Ballad of Father O'Hart</a></td><td align="right">226</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_BALLAD_OF_MOLL_MAGEE">The Ballad of Moll Magee</a></td><td align="right">229</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_BALLAD_OF_THE_FOXHUNTER">The Ballad of the Foxhunter</a></td><td align="right">232</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_WANDERINGS_OF_USHEEN">The Wanderings of Usheen</a></span></td><td align="right">235</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"><a href="#GLOSSARY_AND_NOTES">Glossary and Notes</a></span></td><td align="right">299</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">xv</a></span></p> + + +<p class="center p6"><i>TO SOME I HAVE TALKED WITH +BY THE FIRE</i></p> + + +<p> +<i>While I wrought out these fitful Danaan rhymes,<br /> +My heart would brim with dreams about the times<br /> +When we bent down above the fading coals;<br /> +And talked of the dark folk, who live in souls<br /> +Of passionate men, like bats in the dead trees;<br /> +And of the wayward twilight companies,<br /> +Who sigh with mingled sorrow and content,<br /> +Because their blossoming dreams have never bent<br /> +Under the fruit of evil and of good:<br /> +And of the embattled flaming multitude<br /> +Who rise, wing above wing, flame above flame,<br /> +And, like a storm, cry the Ineffable Name,<br /> +And with the clashing of their sword blades make<br /> +A rapturous music, till the morning break,<br /> +And the white hush end all, but the loud beat<br /> +Of their long wings, the flash of their white feet.</i><br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">1</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_COUNTESS_CATHLEEN" id= +"THE_COUNTESS_CATHLEEN"></a>THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">2</a></span></p> +<p class="center">"The sorrowful are dumb for thee"</p> + +<p class="right"><i>Lament of Morion Shehone for Miss Mary Bourke</i></p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">3</a></span></p> + +<p class="center p6">TO<br /> + +MAUD GONNE</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</a></span></p> + +<div class="center p6"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="characters"> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Shemus Rua</span></td><td align="right">A Peasant</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mary</span></td><td align="right">His Wife</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Teig</span></td><td align="right">His Son</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Aleel</span></td><td align="right">A Poet</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Countess Cathleen</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Oona</span></td><td align="right">Her Foster Mother</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Two Demons disguised as Merchants</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Peasants, Servants, Angelical Beings</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="center"><i>The Scene is laid in Ireland and in old times</i></p> +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="section"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="SCENE_I" id="SCENE_I"></a>SCENE I</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span></p> +<p class="exposition"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A room with lighted fire, and a door into the open +air, through which one sees, perhaps, the trees of a wood, +and these trees should be painted in flat colour upon a +gold or diapered sky. The walls are of one colour. The +scent should have the effect of missal painting.</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span>, a<i> +woman of forty years or so, is grinding a quern</i>.</p> + + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">What can have made the grey hen flutter so?</p> + +<p class="direction">(TEIG, <i>a boy of fourteen, is coming in with turf, +which he lays beside the hearth</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">They say that now the land is famine struck<br /> +The graves are walking.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">There is something that the hen hears.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span>And that is not the worst; at Tubber-vanach<br /> +A woman met a man with ears spread out,<br /> +And they moved up and down like a bat's wing.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">What can have kept your father all this while?</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">Two nights ago, at Carrick-orus churchyard,<br /> +A herdsman met a man who had no mouth,<br /> +Nor eyes, nor ears; his face a wall of flesh;<br /> +He saw him plainly by the light of the moon.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Look out, and tell me if your father's coming.</p> + +<p class="direction">(TEIG <i>goes to door</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">Mother!</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">What is it?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">In the bush beyond,</span><br /> +There are two birds—if you can call them birds—<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span>I could not see them rightly for the leaves.<br /> +But they've the shape and colour of horned owls<br /> +And I'm half certain they've a human face.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Mother of God, defend us!</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">They're looking at me.</span><br /> +What is the good of praying? father says.<br /> +God and the Mother of God have dropped asleep.<br /> +What do they care, he says, though the whole land<br /> +Squeal like a rabbit under a weasel's tooth?</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">You'll bring misfortune with your blasphemies<br /> +Upon your father, or yourself, or me.<br /> +I would to God he were home—ah, there he is.</p> + +<p class="direction">(SHEMUS <i>comes in</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">What was it kept you in the wood? You know<br /> +I cannot get all sorts of accidents<br /> +Out of my mind till you are home again.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">I'm in no mood to listen to your clatter.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span>Although I tramped the woods for half a day,<br /> +I've taken nothing, for the very rats,<br /> +Badgers, and hedgehogs seem to have died of drought,<br /> +And there was scarce a wind in the parched leaves.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">Then you have brought no dinner.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17em;">After that</span><br /> +I sat among the beggars at the cross-roads,<br /> +And held a hollow hand among the others.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">What, did you beg?</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">I had no chance to beg,</span><br /> +For when the beggars saw me they cried out<br /> +They would not have another share their alms,<br /> +And hunted me away with sticks and stones.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">You said that you would bring us food or money.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span>What's in the house?</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">A bit of mouldy bread.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">There's flour enough to make another loaf.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">And when that's gone?</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">There is the hen in the coop.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">My curse upon the beggars, my curse upon them!</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">And the last penny gone.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">When the hen's gone,</span><br /> +What can we do but live on sorrel and dock,<br /> +And dandelion, till our mouths are green?</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">God, that to this hour's found bit and sup,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span>Will cater for us still.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">His kitchen's bare.</span><br /> +There were five doors that I looked through this day<br /> +And saw the dead and not a soul to wake them.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Maybe He'd have us die because He knows,<br /> +When the ear is stopped and when the eye is stopped,<br /> +That every wicked sight is hid from the eye,<br /> +And all fool talk from the ear.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Who's passing there?</span><br /> +And mocking us with music?</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A stringed instrument without.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">A young man plays it,</span><br /> +There's an old woman and a lady with him.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">What is the trouble of the poor to her?<br /> +Nothing at all or a harsh radishy sauce<br /> +For the day's meat.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span><span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">God's pity on the rich.</span><br /> +Had we been through as many doors, and seen<br /> +The dishes standing on the polished wood<br /> +In the wax candle light, we'd be as hard,<br /> +And there's the needle's eye at the end of all.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">My curse upon the rich.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">They're coming here.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">Then down upon that stool, down quick, I say,<br /> +And call up a whey face and a whining voice,<br /> +And let your head be bowed upon your knees.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Had I but time to put the place to rights.</p> + +<p class="direction">(CATHLEEN, OONA, <i>and</i> ALEEL <i>enter</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">God save all here. There is a certain house,<br /> +An old grey castle with a kitchen garden,<br /> +A cider orchard and a plot for flowers,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span>Somewhere among these woods.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">We know it, lady.</span><br /> +A place that's set among impassable walls<br /> +As though world's trouble could not find it out.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">It may be that we are that trouble, for we—<br /> +Although we've wandered in the wood this hour—<br /> +Have lost it too, yet I should know my way,<br /> +For I lived all my childhood in that house.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Then you are Countess Cathleen?</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">And this woman,</span><br /> +Oona, my nurse, should have remembered it,<br /> +For we were happy for a long time there.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">The paths are overgrown with thickets now,<br /> +Or else some change has come upon my sight.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span>And this young man, that should have known the woods—<br /> +Because we met him on their border but now,<br /> +Wandering and singing like a wave of the sea—<br /> +Is so wrapped up in dreams of terrors to come<br /> +That he can give no help.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">You have still some way,</span><br /> +But I can put you on the trodden path<br /> +Your servants take when they are marketing.<br /> +But first sit down and rest yourself awhile,<br /> +For my old fathers served your fathers, lady,<br /> +Longer than books can tell—and it were strange<br /> +If you and yours should not be welcome here.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">And it were stranger still were I ungrateful<br /> +For such kind welcome—but I must be gone,<br /> +For the night's gathering in.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">It is a long while</span><br /> +Since I've set eyes on bread or on what buys it.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">So you are starving even in this wood,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span>Where I had thought I would find nothing changed.<br /> +But that's a dream, for the old worm o' the world<br /> +Can eat its way into what place it pleases.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She gives money.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">Beautiful lady, give me something too;<br /> +I fell but now, being weak with hunger and thirst<br /> +And lay upon the threshold like a log.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">I gave for all and that was all I had.<br /> +Look, my purse is empty. I have passed<br /> +By starving men and women all this day,<br /> +And they have had the rest; but take the purse,<br /> +The silver clasps on't may be worth a trifle.<br /> +But if you'll come to-morrow to my house<br /> +You shall have twice the sum.</p> + +<p class="direction">(ALEEL <i>begins to play</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS (<i>muttering</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">What, music, music!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Ah, do not blame the finger on the string;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span>The doctors bid me fly the unlucky times<br /> +And find distraction for my thoughts, or else<br /> +Pine to my grave.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">I have said nothing, lady.</span><br /> +Why should the like of us complain?</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 18.5em;">Have done.</span><br /> +Sorrows that she's but read of in a book<br /> +Weigh on her mind as if they had been her own.</p> + +<p class="direction">(OONA, MARY, and CATHLEEN <i>go out</i>. ALEEL +<i>looks defiantly at</i> SHEMUS.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL (<i>singing</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Were I but crazy for love's sake<br /> +I know who'd measure out his length,<br /> +I know the heads that I should break,<br /> +For crazy men have double strength.<br /> +There! all's out now to leave or take,<br /> +And who mocks music mocks at love;<br /> +And when I'm crazy for love's sake<br /> +I'll not go far to choose.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Snapping his fingers in</i> SHEMUS' <i>face</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span><span style="margin-left: 14em;">Enough!</span><br /> +I know the heads that I shall break.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He takes a step towards the door and then turns +again.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Shut to the door before the night has fallen,<br /> +For who can say what walks, or in what shape<br /> +Some devilish creature flies in the air, but now<br /> +Two grey-horned owls hooted above our heads.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He goes out, his singing dies away.</i> MARY <i>comes +in</i>. SHEMUS <i>has been counting the money.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">So that fool's gone.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">He's seen the horned owls too.</span><br /> +There's no good luck in owls, but it may be<br /> +That the ill luck's to fall upon his head.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">You never thanked her ladyship.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Thank her,</span><br /> +For seven halfpence and a silver bit?</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span>But for this empty purse?</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">What's that for thanks,</span><br /> +Or what's the double of it that she promised?<br /> +With bread and flesh and every sort of food<br /> +Up to a price no man has heard the like of<br /> +And rising every day.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">We have all she had;</span><br /> +She emptied out the purse before our eyes.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS (<i>to</i> MARY, <i>who has gone to close the door</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Leave that door open.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">When those that have read books,</span><br /> +And seen the seven wonders of the world,<br /> +Fear what's above or what's below the ground,<br /> +It's time that poverty should bolt the door.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">I'll have no bolts, for there is not a thing<br /> +That walks above the ground or under it<br /> +I had not rather welcome to this house<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span>Than any more of mankind, rich or poor.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">So that they brought us money.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17em;">I heard say</span><br /> +There's something that appears like a white bird,<br /> +A pigeon or a seagull or the like,<br /> +But if you hit it with a stone or a stick<br /> +It clangs as though it had been made of brass,<br /> +And that if you dig down where it was scratching<br /> +You'll find a crock of gold.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">But dream of gold</span><br /> +For three nights running, and there's always gold.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">You might be starved before you've dug it out.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">But maybe if you called, something would come,<br /> +They have been seen of late.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">Is it call devils?</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span>Call devils from the wood, call them in here?</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">So you'd stand up against me, and you'd say<br /> +Who or what I am to welcome here. (<i>He hits her.</i>)<br /> +That is to show who's master.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Call them in.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">God help us all!</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">Pray, if you have a mind to.</span><br /> +It's little that the sleepy ears above<br /> +Care for your words; but I'll call what I please.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">There is many a one, they say, had money from them.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS (<i>at door</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Whatever you are that walk the woods at night,<br /> +So be it that you have not shouldered up<br /> +Out of a grave—for I'll have nothing human—<br /> +And have free hands, a friendly trick of speech,<br /> +I welcome you. Come, sit beside the fire.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span>What matter if your head's below your arms<br /> +Or you've a horse's tail to whip your flank,<br /> +Feathers instead of hair, that's but a straw,<br /> +Come, share what bread and meat is in the house,<br /> +And stretch your heels and warm them in the ashes.<br /> +And after that, let's share and share alike<br /> +And curse all men and women. Come in, come in.<br /> +What, is there no one there? (<i>Turning from door</i>)<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And yet they say</span><br /> +They are as common as the grass, and ride<br /> +Even upon the book in the priest's hand.</p> + +<p class="exposition">(TEIG <i>lifts one arm slowly and points toward +the door and begins moving backwards</i>. +SHEMUS <i>turns, he also sees something and +begins moving backward</i>. MARY <i>does the +same. A man dressed as an Eastern +merchant comes in carrying a small carpet. +He unrolls it and sits cross-legged at one +end of it. Another man dressed in the +same way follows, and sits at the other +end. This is done slowly and deliberately. +When they are seated they take money +out of embroidered purses at their girdles +and begin arranging it on the carpet</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span>You speak to them.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">No, you.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">'Twas you that called them.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS (<i>coming nearer</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">I'd make so bold, if you would pardon it,<br /> +To ask if there's a thing you'd have of us.<br /> +Although we are but poor people, if there is,<br /> +Why, if there is——</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">We've travelled a long road,</span><br /> +For we are merchants that must tramp the world,<br /> +And now we look for supper and a fire<br /> +And a safe corner to count money in.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">I thought you were ... but that's no matter now—<br /> +There had been words between my wife and me<br /> +Because I said I would be master here,<br /> +And ask in what I pleased or who I pleased<br /> +And so.... but that is nothing to the point,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span>Because it's certain that you are but merchants.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We travel for the Master of all merchants.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">Yet if you were that I had thought but now<br /> +I'd welcome you no less. Be what you please<br /> +And you'll have supper at the market rate,<br /> +That means that what was sold for but a penny<br /> +Is now worth fifty.</p> + +<p class="direction">(MERCHANTS <i>begin putting money on carpet</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">Our Master bids us pay</span><br /> +So good a price, that all who deal with us<br /> +Shall eat, drink, and be merry.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS (<i>to</i> MARY)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17em;">Bestir yourself,</span><br /> +Go kill and draw the fowl, while Teig and I<br /> +Lay out the plates and make a better fire.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I will not cook for you.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span><span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Not cook! not cook!</span><br /> +Do not be angry. She wants to pay me back<br /> +Because I struck her in that argument.<br /> +But she'll get sense again. Since the dearth came<br /> +We rattle one on another as though we were<br /> +Knives thrown into a basket to be cleaned.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I will not cook for you, because I know<br /> +In what unlucky shape you sat but now<br /> +Outside this door.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">It's this, your honours:</span><br /> +Because of some wild words my father said<br /> +She thinks you are not of those who cast a shadow.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">I said I'd make the devils of the wood<br /> +Welcome, if they'd a mind to eat and drink;<br /> +But it is certain that you are men like us.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">It's strange that she should think we cast no shadow,<br /> +For there is nothing on the ridge of the world<br /> +That's more substantial than the merchants are<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span>That buy and sell you.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">If you are not demons,</span><br /> +And seeing what great wealth is spread out there,<br /> +Give food or money to the starving poor.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">If we knew how to find deserving poor<br /> +We'd do our share.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">But seek them patiently.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We know the evils of mere charity.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Those scruples may befit a common time.<br /> +I had thought there was a pushing to and fro,<br /> +At times like this, that overset the scale<br /> +And trampled measure down.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">But if already</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span>We'd thought of a more prudent way than that?</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">If each one brings a bit of merchandise,<br /> +We'll give him such a price he never dreamt of.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Where shall the starving come at merchandise?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We will ask nothing but what all men have.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Their swine and cattle, fields and implements<br /> +Are sold and gone.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">They have not sold all yet.</span><br /> +For there's a vaporous thing—that may be nothing,<br /> +But that's the buyer's risk—a second self,<br /> +They call immortal for a story's sake.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">They come to buy our souls?</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">I'll barter mine.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span>Why should we starve for what may be but nothing?</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Teig and Shemus——</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">What can it be but nothing?</span><br /> +What has God poured out of His bag but famine?<br /> +Satan gives money.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">Yet no thunder stirs.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">There is a heap for each.</p> + +<p class="direction">(SHEMUS <i>goes to take money</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">But no, not yet,</span><br /> +For there's a work I have to set you to.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">So then you're as deceitful as the rest,<br /> +And all that talk of buying what's but a vapour<br /> +Is fancy bread. I might have known as much,<br /> +Because that's how the trick-o'-the-loop man talks.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">That's for the work, each has its separate price;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span>But neither price is paid till the work's done.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">The same for me.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">Oh, God, why are you still?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">You've but to cry aloud at every cross-road,<br /> +At every house door, that we buy men's souls.<br /> +And give so good a price that all may live<br /> +In mirth and comfort till the famine's done,<br /> +Because we are Christian men.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Come, let's away.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">I shall keep running till I've earned the price.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>who has risen and gone towards fire</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Stop; you must have proof behind the words.<br /> +So here's your entertainment on the road.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He throws a bag of money on the ground.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Live as you please; our Master's generous.</p> + +<p class="direction">(TEIG and SHEMUS <i>have stopped</i>. TEIG <i>takes the +money. They go out.</i>)</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Destroyers of souls, God will destroy you quickly.<br /> +You shall at last dry like dry leaves and hang<br /> +Nailed like dead vermin to the doors of God.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Curse to your fill, for saints will have their dreams.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Though we're but vermin that our Master sent<br /> +To overrun the world, he at the end<br /> +Shall pull apart the pale ribs of the moon<br /> +And quench the stars in the ancestral night.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">God is all powerful.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">Pray, you shall need Him.</span><br /> +You shall eat dock and grass, and dandelion,<br /> +Till that low threshold there becomes a wall,<br /> +And when your hands can scarcely drag your body<br /> +We shall be near you.</p> + +<p class="direction">(MARY <i>faints</i>.)</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>The</i> FIRST MERCHANT <i>takes up the carpet, spreads +it before the fire and stands in front of it +warming his hands</i>.)</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Our faces go unscratched,</span><br /> +Wring the neck o' that fowl, scatter the flour<br /> +And look if there is bread upon the shelves.<br /> +We'll turn the fowl upon the spit and roast it,<br /> +And eat the supper we were bidden to,<br /> +Now that the house is quiet, praise our Master,<br /> +And stretch and warm our heels among the ashes.</p> + +<p class="center">END OF SCENE I.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> + +<div class="section"> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="SCENE_II" id="SCENE_II"></a>SCENE II</h3> +</div> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span></p> + +<p class="exposition">FRONT SCENE.—<i>A wood with perhaps distant view of turreted +house at one side, but all in flat colour, without light and +shade and against a diapered or gold background.</i></p> + +<p class="direction">COUNTESS CATHLEEN <i>comes in leaning upon</i> ALEEL'S +<i>arm</i>. OONA <i>follows them</i>.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>stopping</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Surely this leafy corner, where one smells<br /> +The wild bee's honey, has a story too?</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">There is the house at last.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">A man, they say,</span><br /> +Loved Maeve the Queen of all the invisible host,<br /> +And died of his love nine centuries ago.<br /> +And now, when the moon's riding at the full,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span>She leaves her dancers lonely and lies there<br /> +Upon that level place, and for three days<br /> +Stretches and sighs and wets her long pale cheeks.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">So she loves truly.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">No, but wets her cheeks,</span><br /> +Lady, because she has forgot his name.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">She'd sleep that trouble away—though it must be<br /> +A heavy trouble to forget his name—<br /> +If she had better sense.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">Your own house, lady.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">She sleeps high up on wintry Knock-na-rea<br /> +In an old cairn of stones; while her poor women<br /> +Must lie and jog in the wave if they would sleep—<br /> +Being water born—yet if she cry their names<br /> +They run up on the land and dance in the moon<br /> +Till they are giddy and would love as men do,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span>And be as patient and as pitiful.<br /> +But there is nothing that will stop in their heads<br /> +They've such poor memories, though they weep for it.<br /> +Oh, yes, they weep; that's when the moon is full.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Is it because they have short memories<br /> +They live so long?</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">What's memory but the ash</span><br /> +That chokes our fires that have begun to sink?<br /> +And they've a dizzy, everlasting fire.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">There is your own house, lady.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17.5em;">Why, that's true,</span><br /> +And we'd have passed it without noticing.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">A curse upon it for a meddlesome house!<br /> +Had it but stayed away I would have known<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span>What Queen Maeve thinks on when the moon is pinched;<br /> +And whether now—as in the old days—the dancers<br /> +Set their brief love on men.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16em;">Rest on my arm.</span><br /> +These are no thoughts for any Christian ear.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">I am younger, she would be too heavy for you.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He begins taking his lute out of the bag</i>, +CATHLEEN, <i>who has turned towards</i> OONA, +<i>turns back to him</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">This hollow box remembers every foot<br /> +That danced upon the level grass of the world,<br /> +And will tell secrets if I whisper to it.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Sings.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Lift up the white knee;<br /> +Hear what they sing,<br /> +Those young dancers<br /> +That in a ring<br /> +Raved but now<br /> +Of the hearts that brake<br /> +Long, long ago<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span>For their sake.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">New friends are sweet.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">"But the dance changes.<br /> +Lift up the gown,<br /> +All that sorrow<br /> +Is trodden down."</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">The empty rattle-pate! Lean on this arm,<br /> +That I can tell you is a christened arm,<br /> +And not like some, if we are to judge by speech.<br /> +But as you please. It is time I was forgot.<br /> +Maybe it is not on this arm you slumbered<br /> +When you were as helpless as a worm.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Stay with me till we come to your own house.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>sitting down</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">When I am rested I will need no help.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span>I thought to have kept her from remembering<br /> +The evil of the times for full ten minutes;<br /> +But now when seven are out you come between.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Talk on; what does it matter what you say,<br /> +For you have not been christened?</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">Old woman, old woman,</span><br /> +You robbed her of three minutes peace of mind,<br /> +And though you live unto a hundred years,<br /> +And wash the feet of beggars and give alms,<br /> +And climb Croaghpatrick, you shall not be pardoned.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">How does a man who never was baptized<br /> +Know what Heaven pardons?</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">You are a sinful woman.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">I care no more than if a pig had grunted.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Enter</i> CATHLEEN'S <i>Steward</i>.)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech">I am not to blame, for I had locked the gate,<br /> +The forester's to blame. The men climbed in<br /> +At the east corner where the elm-tree is.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">I do not understand you, who has climbed?</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech">Then God be thanked, I am the first to tell you.<br /> +I was afraid some other of the servants—<br /> +Though I've been on the watch—had been the first,<br /> +And mixed up truth and lies, your ladyship.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>rising</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Has some misfortune happened?</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Yes, indeed.</span><br /> +The forester that let the branches lie<br /> +Against the wall's to blame for everything,<br /> +For that is how the rogues got into the garden.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">I thought to have escaped misfortune here.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span>Has any one been killed?</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">Oh, no, not killed.</span><br /> +They have stolen half a cart-load of green cabbage.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">But maybe they were starving.</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">That is certain.</span><br /> +To rob or starve, that was the choice they had.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">A learned theologian has laid down<br /> +That starving men may take what's necessary,<br /> +And yet be sinless.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">Sinless and a thief!</span><br /> +There should be broken bottles on the wall.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">And if it be a sin, while faith's unbroken<br /> +God cannot help but pardon. There is no soul<br /> +But it's unlike all others in the world,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span>Nor one but lifts a strangeness to God's love<br /> +Till that's grown infinite, and therefore none<br /> +Whose loss were less than irremediable<br /> +Although it were the wickedest in the world.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Enter</i> TEIG <i>and</i> SHEMUS.)</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech">What are you running for? Pull off your cap,<br /> +Do you not see who's there?</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">I cannot wait.</span><br /> +I am running to the world with the best news<br /> +That has been brought it for a thousand years.</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech">Then get your breath and speak.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17.5em;">If you'd my news</span><br /> +You'd run as fast and be as out of breath.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">Such news, we shall be carried on men's shoulders.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span>There's something every man has carried with him<br /> +And thought no more about than if it were<br /> +A mouthful of the wind; and now it's grown<br /> +A marketable thing!</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">And yet it seemed</span><br /> +As useless as the paring of one's nails.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">What sets me laughing when I think of it,<br /> +Is that a rogue who's lain in lousy straw,<br /> +If he but sell it, may set up his coach.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG (<i>laughing</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">There are two gentlemen who buy men's souls.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">O God!</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">And maybe there's no soul at all.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span>They're drunk or mad.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">Look at the price they give.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Showing money.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS (<i>tossing up money</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">"Go cry it all about the world," they said.<br /> +"Money for souls, good money for a soul."</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Give twice and thrice and twenty times their money,<br /> +And get your souls again. I will pay all.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">Not we! not we! For souls—if there are souls—<br /> +But keep the flesh out of its merriment.<br /> +I shall be drunk and merry.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16em;">Come, let's away.</span></p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He goes.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">But there's a world to come.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">And if there is,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span>I'd rather trust myself into the hands<br /> +That can pay money down than to the hands<br /> +That have but shaken famine from the bag.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He goes out</i> R.)</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Lilting</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">"There's money for a soul, sweet yellow money.<br /> +There's money for men's souls, good money, money."</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>to</i> ALEEL)</p> + +<p class="speech">Go call them here again, bring them by force,<br /> +Beseech them, bribe, do anything you like;</p> + +<p class="direction">(ALEEL <i>goes</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">And you too follow, add your prayers to his.</p> + +<p class="direction">(OONA, <i>who has been praying, goes out</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">Steward, you know the secrets of my house.<br /> +How much have I?</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">A hundred kegs of gold.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">How much have I in castles?</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">As much more.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">How much have I in pasture?</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">As much more.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">How much have I in forests?</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">As much more.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Keeping this house alone, sell all I have,<br /> +Go barter where you please, but come again<br /> +With herds of cattle and with ships of meal.</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech">God's blessing light upon your ladyship.<br /> +You will have saved the land.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Make no delay.</span></p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He goes</i> L.)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span></p> + +<p class="direction">(ALEEL <i>and</i> OONA <i>return</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">They have not come; speak quickly.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 19em;">One drew his knife</span><br /> +And said that he would kill the man or woman<br /> +That stopped his way; and when I would have stopped him<br /> +He made this stroke at me; but it is nothing.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">You shall be tended. From this day for ever<br /> +I'll have no joy or sorrow of my own.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Their eyes shone like the eyes of birds of prey.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Come, follow me, for the earth burns my feet<br /> +Till I have changed my house to such a refuge<br /> +That the old and ailing, and all weak of heart,<br /> +May escape from beak and claw; all, all, shall come<br /> +Till the walls burst and the roof fall on us.<br /> +From this day out I have nothing of my own.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She goes.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">OONA (<i>taking</i> ALEEL <i>by the arm and as she speaks bandaging his wound</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">She has found something now to put her hand to,<br /> +And you and I are of no more account<br /> +Than flies upon a window-pane in the winter.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>They go out.</i>)</p> + +<p>END OF SCENE II.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> + +<div class="section"> +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="SCENE_III" id="SCENE_III"></a>SCENE III</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span></p> +<p class="exposition"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>Hall in the house of</i> <span class="smcap">Countess Cathleen</span>. <i>At the +Left an oratory with steps leading up to it. At the Right +a tapestried wall, more or less repeating the form of the +oratory, and a great chair with its back against the wall. +In the Centre are two or more arches through which +one can see dimly the trees of the garden.</i> <span class="smcap">Cathleen</span> <i>is +kneeling in front of the altar in the oratory; there is a +hanging lighted lamp over the altar</i>. <span class="smcap">Aleel</span> <i>enters</i>.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">I have come to bid you leave this castle and fly<br /> +Out of these woods.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">What evil is there here</span><br /> +That is not everywhere from this to the sea?</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">They who have sent me walk invisible.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">So it is true what I have heard men say,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span>That you have seen and heard what others cannot.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">I was asleep in my bed, and while I slept<br /> +My dream became a fire; and in the fire<br /> +One walked and he had birds about his head.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">I have heard that one of the old gods walked so.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">It may be that he is angelical;<br /> +And, lady, he bids me call you from these woods.<br /> +And you must bring but your old foster-mother,<br /> +And some few serving men, and live in the hills,<br /> +Among the sounds of music and the light<br /> +Of waters, till the evil days are done.<br /> +For here some terrible death is waiting you,<br /> +Some unimagined evil, some great darkness<br /> +That fable has not dreamt of, nor sun nor moon<br /> +Scattered.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">No, not angelical.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17.5em;">This house</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span>You are to leave with some old trusty man,<br /> +And bid him shelter all that starve or wander<br /> +While there is food and house room.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 19.5em;">He bids me go</span><br /> +Where none of mortal creatures but the swan<br /> +Dabbles, and there you would pluck the harp, when the trees<br /> +Had made a heavy shadow about our door,<br /> +And talk among the rustling of the reeds,<br /> +When night hunted the foolish sun away<br /> +With stillness and pale tapers. No—no—no!<br /> +I cannot. Although I weep, I do not weep<br /> +Because that life would be most happy, and here<br /> +I find no way, no end. Nor do I weep<br /> +Because I had longed to look upon your face,<br /> +But that a night of prayer has made me weary.<br /> +<br /> +ALEEL (<i>prostrating himself before her</i>)<br /> +<br /> +Let Him that made mankind, the angels and devils<br /> +And dearth and plenty, mend what He has made,<br /> +For when we labour in vain and eye still sees<br /> +Heart breaks in vain.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">How would that quiet end?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">How but in healing?</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">You have seen my tears</span><br /> +And I can see your hand shake on the floor.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL (<i>faltering</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">I thought but of healing. He was angelical.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>turning away from him</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">No, not angelical, but of the old gods,<br /> +Who wander about the world to waken the heart—<br /> +The passionate, proud heart—that all the angels,<br /> +Leaving nine heavens empty, would rock to sleep.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She goes to chapel door;</i> ALEEL <i>holds his clasped +hands towards her for a moment hesitatingly, +and then lets them fall beside him</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Do not hold out to me beseeching hands.<br /> +This heart shall never waken on earth. I have sworn,<br /> +By her whose heart the seven sorrows have pierced,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span>To pray before this altar until my heart<br /> +Has grown to Heaven like a tree, and there<br /> +Rustled its leaves, till Heaven has saved my people.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL (<i>who has risen</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">When one so great has spoken of love to one<br /> +So little as I, though to deny him love,<br /> +What can he but hold out beseeching hands,<br /> +Then let them fall beside him, knowing how greatly<br /> +They have overdared?</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He goes towards the door of the hall.</i> <i>The</i> +COUNTESS CATHLEEN <i>takes a few steps towards +him</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">If the old tales are true,</span><br /> +Queens have wed shepherds and kings beggar-maids;<br /> +God's procreant waters flowing about your mind<br /> +Have made you more than kings or queens; and not you<br /> +But I am the empty pitcher.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Being silent,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span>I have said all, yet let me stay beside you.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">No, no, not while my heart is shaken. No,<br /> +But you shall hear wind cry and water cry,<br /> +And curlew cry, and have the peace I longed for.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Give me your hand to kiss.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">I kiss your forehead.</span><br /> +And yet I send you from me. Do not speak;<br /> +There have been women that bid men to rob<br /> +Crowns from the Country-under-Wave or apples<br /> +Upon a dragon-guarded hill, and all<br /> +That they might sift men's hearts and wills,<br /> +And trembled as they bid it, as I tremble<br /> +That lay a hard task on you, that you go,<br /> +And silently, and do not turn your head;<br /> +Goodbye; but do not turn your head and look;<br /> +Above all else, I would not have you look.</p> + +<p class="direction">(ALEEL <i>goes</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">I never spoke to him of his wounded hand,<br /> +And now he is gone. (<i>She looks out.</i>)<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span>I cannot see him, for all is dark outside.<br /> +Would my imagination and my heart<br /> +Were as little shaken as this holy flame!</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She goes slowly into the chapel. The distant +sound of an alarm bell.</i> <i>The two</i> MERCHANTS +<i>enter hurriedly</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">They are ringing the alarm, and in a moment<br /> +They'll be upon us.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT (<i>going to a door at the side</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">Here is the Treasury,</span><br /> +You'd my commands to put them all to sleep.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Some angel or else her prayers protected them.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Goes into the Treasury and returns with bags +of treasure.</i> FIRST MERCHANT <i>has been +listening at the oratory door</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">She has fallen asleep.</p> + +<p class="direction">(SECOND MERCHANT <i>goes out through one of the +arches at the back and stands listening. +The bags are at his feet.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">We've all the treasure now,</span><br /> +So let's away before they've tracked us out.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">I have a plan to win her.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">You have time enough</span><br /> +If you would kill her and bear off her soul<br /> +Before they are upon us with their prayers;<br /> +They search the Western Tower.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">That may not be.</span><br /> +We cannot face the heavenly host in arms.<br /> +Her soul must come to us of its own will,<br /> +But being of the ninth and mightiest Hell<br /> +Where all are kings, I have a plan to win it.<br /> +Lady, we've news that's crying out for speech.</p> + +<p class="direction">(CATHLEEN <i>wakes and comes to door of chapel</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Who calls?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span><span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">We have brought news.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">What are you?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We are merchants, and we know the book of the world<br /> +Because we have walked upon its leaves; and there<br /> +Have read of late matters that much concern you;<br /> +And noticing the castle door stand open,<br /> +Came in to find an ear.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">The door stands open,</span><br /> +That no one who is famished or afraid,<br /> +Despair of help or of a welcome with it.<br /> +But you have news, you say.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">We saw a man,</span><br /> +Heavy with sickness in the bog of Allen,<br /> +Whom you had bid buy cattle. Near Fair Head<br /> +We saw your grain ships lying all becalmed<br /> +In the dark night; and not less still than they,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span>Burned all their mirrored lanthorns in the sea.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">My thanks to God, to Mary and the angels,<br /> +That I have money in my treasury,<br /> +And can buy grain from those who have stored it up<br /> +To prosper on the hunger of the poor.<br /> +But you've been far and know the signs of things,<br /> +When will this famine end?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Day copies day,</span><br /> +And there's no sign of change, nor can it change,<br /> +With the wheat withered and the cattle dead.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">And heard you of the demons who buy souls?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">There are some men who hold they have wolves' heads,<br /> +And say their limbs—dried by the infinite flame—<br /> +Have all the speed of storms; others, again,<br /> +Say they are gross and little; while a few<br /> +Will have it they seem much as mortals are,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span>But tall and brown and travelled—like us, lady—<br /> +Yet all agree a power is in their looks<br /> +That makes men bow, and flings a casting-net<br /> +About their souls, and that all men would go<br /> +And barter those poor vapours, were it not<br /> +You bribe them with the safety of your gold.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Praise be to God, to Mary, and the angels<br /> +That I am wealthy! Wherefore do they sell?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">As we came in at the great door we saw<br /> +Your porter sleeping in his niche—a soul<br /> +Too little to be worth a hundred pence,<br /> +And yet they buy it for a hundred crowns.<br /> +But for a soul like yours, I heard them say,<br /> +They would give five hundred thousand crowns and more.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">How can a heap of crowns pay for a soul?<br /> +Is the green grave so terrible a thing?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Some sell because the money gleams, and some<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span>Because they are in terror of the grave,<br /> +And some because their neighbours sold before,<br /> +And some because there is a kind of joy<br /> +In casting hope away, in losing joy,<br /> +In ceasing all resistance, in at last<br /> +Opening one's arms to the eternal flames,<br /> +In casting all sails out upon the wind;<br /> +To this—full of the gaiety of the lost—<br /> +Would all folk hurry if your gold were gone.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">There is a something, Merchant, in your voice<br /> +That makes me fear. When you were telling how<br /> +A man may lose his soul and lose his God<br /> +Your eyes were lighted up, and when you told<br /> +How my poor money serves the people, both—<br /> +Merchants forgive me—seemed to smile.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 21em;">I laugh</span><br /> +To think that all these people should be swung<br /> +As on a lady's shoe-string,—under them<br /> +The glowing leagues of never-ending flame.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span>There is a something in you that I fear;<br /> +A something not of us; were you not born<br /> +In some most distant corner of the world?</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">SECOND MERCHANT</span>, <i>who has been listening +at the door, comes forward, and as he comes +a sound of voices and feet is heard</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Away now—they are in the passage—hurry,<br /> +For they will know us, and freeze up our hearts<br /> +With Ave Marys, and burn all our skin<br /> +With holy water.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">Farewell; for we must ride</span><br /> +Many a mile before the morning come;<br /> +Our horses beat the ground impatiently.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>They go out.</i> <i>A number of</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>enter by +other door</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Forgive us, lady, but we heard a noise.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span>We sat by the fireside telling vanities.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We heard a noise, but though we have searched the house<br /> +We have found nobody.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">You are too timid,</span><br /> +For now you are safe from all the evil times,<br /> +There is no evil that can find you here.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA (<i>entering hurriedly</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Ochone! Ochone! The treasure room is broken in.<br /> +The door stands open, and the gold is gone.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>raise a lamentable cry</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Be silent. (<i>The cry ceases.</i>) Have you seen nobody?</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 22em;">Ochone!</span><br /> +That my good mistress should lose all this money.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span>Let those among you—not too old to ride—<br /> +Get horses and search all the country round,<br /> +I'll give a farm to him who finds the thieves.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A man with keys at his girdle has come in while +she speaks. There is a general murmur of +"The porter! the porter!"</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">PORTER</p> + +<p class="speech">Demons were here. I sat beside the door<br /> +In my stone niche, and two owls passed me by,<br /> +Whispering with human voices.</p> + +<p class="actor">OLD PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17em;">God forsakes us.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Old man, old man, He never closed a door<br /> +Unless one opened. I am desolate,<br /> +Because of a strange thought that's in my heart;<br /> +But I have still my faith; therefore be silent;<br /> +For surely He does not forsake the world,<br /> +But stands before it modelling in the clay<br /> +And moulding there His image. Age by age<br /> +The clay wars with His fingers and pleads hard<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span>For its old, heavy, dull and shapeless ease;<br /> +But sometimes—though His hand is on it still—<br /> +It moves awry and demon hordes are born.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>cross themselves</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">Yet leave me now, for I am desolate,<br /> +I hear a whisper from beyond the thunder.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She comes from the oratory door.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Yet stay an instant. When we meet again<br /> +I may have grown forgetful. Oona, take<br /> +These two—the larder and the dairy keys.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>To the</i> <span class="smcap">PORTER</span>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">But take you this. It opens the small room<br /> +Of herbs for medicine, of hellebore,<br /> +Of vervain, monkshood, plantain, and self-heal.<br /> +The book of cures is on the upper shelf.</p> + +<p class="actor">PORTER</p> + +<p class="speech">Why do you do this, lady; did you see<br /> +Your coffin in a dream?</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">Ah, no, not that.</span><br /> +But I have come to a strange thought. I have heard<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span>A sound of wailing in unnumbered hovels,<br /> +And I must go down, down—I know not where—<br /> +Pray for all men and women mad from famine;<br /> +Pray, you good neighbours.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>all kneel</i>. <span class="smcap">COUNTESS CATHLEEN</span> +<i>ascends the steps to the door of the oratory, +and turning round stands there motionless +for a little, and then cries in a loud voice</i>:)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">Mary, Queen of angels,</span><br /> +And all you clouds on clouds of saints, farewell!</p> + +<p>END OF SCENE III.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> + +<div class="section"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="SCENE_IV" id="SCENE_IV"></a>SCENE IV</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span></p> +<p class="exposition"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A wood near the Castle, as in Scene II. A group +of</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>pass</i>.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">I have seen silver and copper, but not gold.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">It's yellow and it shines.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">It's beautiful.</span><br /> +The most beautiful thing under the sun,<br /> +That's what I've heard.</p> + +<p class="actor">THIRD PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">I have seen gold enough.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FOURTH PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span>I would not say that it's so beautiful.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">But doesn't a gold piece glitter like the sun?<br /> +That's what my father, who'd seen better days,<br /> +Told me when I was but a little boy—<br /> +So high—so high, it's shining like the sun,<br /> +Round and shining, that is what he said.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">There's nothing in the world it cannot buy.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">They've bags and bags of it.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>They go out.</i> <i>The two</i> <span class="smcap">MERCHANTS</span> <i>follow +silently</i>. <i>Then</i> <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>passes over the stage +singing</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Impetuous heart be still, be still,<br /> +Your sorrowful love can never be told,<br /> +Cover it up with a lonely tune.<br /> +He who could bend all things to His will<br /> +Has covered the door of the infinite fold<br /> +With the pale stars and the wandering moon.</p> + +<p>END OF SCENE IV.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> + +<div class="section"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="SCENE_V" id="SCENE_V"></a>SCENE V</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span></p> +<p class="exposition"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>The house of</i> <span class="smcap">SHEMUS RUA</span>. <i>There is an alcove at +the back with curtains; in it a bed, and on the bed is +the body of</i> <span class="smcap">MARY</span> <i>with candles round it</i>. <i>The two</i> +<span class="smcap">MERCHANTS</span> <i>while they speak put a large book upon a +table, arrange money, and so on</i>.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Thanks to that lie I told about her ships<br /> +And that about the herdsman lying sick,<br /> +We shall be too much thronged with souls to-morrow.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">What has she in her coffers now but mice?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">When the night fell and I had shaped myself<br /> +Into the image of the man-headed owl,<br /> +I hurried to the cliffs of Donegal,<br /> +And saw with all their canvas full of wind<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span>And rushing through the parti-coloured sea<br /> +Those ships that bring the woman grain and meal.<br /> +They're but three days from us.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 18em;">When the dew rose</span><br /> +I hurried in like feathers to the east,<br /> +And saw nine hundred oxen driven through Meath<br /> +With goads of iron. They're but three days from us.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Three days for traffic.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>crowd in with</i> <span class="smcap">TEIG</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">SHEMUS</span>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 8.5em;">Come in, come in, you are welcome.</span><br /> +That is my wife. She mocked at my great masters,<br /> +And would not deal with them. Now there she is;<br /> +She does not even know she was a fool,<br /> +So great a fool she was.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">She would not eat</span><br /> +One crumb of bread bought with our master's money,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span>But lived on nettles, dock, and dandelion.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">There's nobody could put into her head<br /> +That Death is the worst thing can happen us.<br /> +Though that sounds simple, for her tongue grew rank<br /> +With all the lies that she had heard in chapel.<br /> +Draw to the curtain. (<span class="smcap">TEIG</span> <i>draws it</i>.) You'll not play the fool<br /> +While these good gentlemen are there to save you.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Since the drought came they drift about in a throng,<br /> +Like autumn leaves blown by the dreary winds.<br /> +Come, deal—come, deal.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Who will come deal with us?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">They are out of spirit, sir, with lack of food,<br /> +Save four or five. Here, sir, is one of these;<br /> +The others will gain courage in good time.</p> + +<p class="actor">MIDDLE-AGED-MAN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span>I come to deal—if you give honest price.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT (<i>reading in a book</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">"John Maher, a man of substance, with dull mind,<br /> +And quiet senses and unventurous heart.<br /> +The angels think him safe." Two hundred crowns,<br /> +All for a soul, a little breath of wind.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE MAN</p> + +<p class="speech">I ask three hundred crowns. You have read there<br /> +That no mere lapse of days can make me yours.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">There is something more writ here—"Often at night<br /> +He is wakeful from a dread of growing poor,<br /> +And thereon wonders if there's any man<br /> +That he could rob in safety."</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Who'd have thought it?</span><br /> +And I was once alone with him at midnight.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">I will not trust my mother after this.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span>There is this crack in you—two hundred crowns.</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">That's plenty for a rogue.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">I'd give him nothing.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">You'll get no more—so take what's offered you.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A general murmur, during which the</i> <span class="smcap">MIDDLE-AGED +MAN</span> <i>takes money, and slips into background, +where he sinks on to a seat</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Has no one got a better soul than that?<br /> +If only for the credit of your parishes,<br /> +Traffic with us.</p> + +<p class="actor">A WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 8.5em;">What will you give for mine?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT (<i>reading in book</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">"Soft, handsome, and still young"—not much, I think.<br /> +"It's certain that the man she's married to<br /> +Knows nothing of what's hidden in the jar<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span>Between the hour-glass and the pepper-pot."</p> + +<p class="actor">THE WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">The scandalous book.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">"Nor how when he's away</span><br /> +At the horse fair the hand that wrote what's hid<br /> +Will tap three times upon the window-pane."</p> + +<p class="actor">THE WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">And if there is a letter, that is no reason<br /> +Why I should have less money than the others.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">You're almost safe, I give you fifty crowns.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She turns to go.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">A hundred, then.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">Woman, have sense—come, come.</span><br /> +Is this a time to haggle at the price?<br /> +There, take it up. There, there. That's right.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She takes them and goes into the crowd.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span>Come, deal, deal, deal. It is but for charity<br /> +We buy such souls at all; a thousand sins<br /> +Made them our Master's long before we came.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>enters</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Here, take my soul, for I am tired of it.<br /> +I do not ask a price.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">Not ask a price?</span><br /> +How can you sell your soul without a price?<br /> +I would not listen to his broken wits;<br /> +His love for Countess Cathleen has so crazed him<br /> +He hardly understands what he is saying.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">The trouble that has come on Countess Cathleen,<br /> +The sorrow that is in her wasted face,<br /> +The burden in her eyes, have broke my wits,<br /> +And yet I know I'd have you take my soul.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We cannot take your soul, for it is hers.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">No, but you must. Seeing it cannot help her<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span>I have grown tired of it.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Begone from me,</span><br /> +I may not touch it.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">Is your power so small?</span><br /> +And must I bear it with me all my days?<br /> +May you be scorned and mocked!</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Drag him away.</span><br /> +He troubles me.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">TEIG</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">SHEMUS</span> <i>lead</i> <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>into the crowd</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">His gaze has filled me, brother,</span><br /> +With shaking and a dreadful fear.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17.5em;">Lean forward</span><br /> +And kiss the circlet where my Master's lips<br /> +Were pressed upon it when he sent us hither;<br /> +You shall have peace once more.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">SECOND MERCHANT</span> <i>kisses the gold circlet that is +about the head of the</i> <span class="smcap">FIRST MERCHANT</span>.)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span></p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">I, too, grow weary,</span><br /> +But there is something moving in my heart<br /> +Whereby I know that what we seek the most<br /> +Is drawing near—our labour will soon end.<br /> +Come, deal, deal, deal, deal, deal; are you all dumb?<br /> +What, will you keep me from our ancient home,<br /> +And from the eternal revelry?</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16em;">Deal, deal.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">They say you beat the woman down too low.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">I offer this great price: a thousand crowns<br /> +For an old woman who was always ugly.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>An old</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANT WOMAN</span> <i>comes forward, and he +takes up a book and reads</i>:)</p> + +<p class="speech">There is but little set down here against her.<br /> +"She has stolen eggs and fowl when times were bad,<br /> +But when the times grew better has confessed it;<br /> +She never missed her chapel of a Sunday<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span>And when she could, paid dues." Take up your money.</p> + +<p class="actor">OLD WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">God bless you, sir. (<i>She screams.</i>) Oh, sir, a pain went through me!</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">That name is like a fire to all damned souls.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Murmur among the</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span>, <i>who shrink back +from her as she goes out</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">How she screamed out!</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">And maybe we shall scream so.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">THIRD PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">I tell you there is no such place as hell.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Can such a trifle turn you from your profit?<br /> +Come, deal; come, deal.</p> + +<p class="actor">MIDDLE-AGED MAN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span><span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Master, I am afraid.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">I bought your soul, and there's no sense in fear<br /> +Now the soul's gone.</p> + +<p class="actor">MIDDLE-AGED MAN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">Give me my soul again.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">WOMAN (<i>going on her knees and clinging to</i> +<span class="smcap">MERCHANT</span>)</p> + +<p class="speech">And take this money too, and give me mine.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Bear bastards, drink or follow some wild fancy;<br /> +For sighs and cries are the soul's work,<br /> +And you have none.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Throws the woman off.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Come, let's away.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 20em;">Yes, yes.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Come quickly; if that woman had not screamed<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span>I would have lost my soul.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">Come, come away.</span></p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>They turn to door, but are stopped by shouts of +"Countess Cathleen! Countess Cathleen!"</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>entering</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">And so you trade once more?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">In spite of you.</span><br /> +What brings you here, saint with the sapphire eyes?</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">I come to barter a soul for a great price.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">What matter, if the soul be worth the price?</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">The people starve, therefore the people go<br /> +Thronging to you. I hear a cry come from them<br /> +And it is in my ears by night and day,<br /> +And I would have five hundred thousand crowns<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span>That I may feed them till the dearth go by.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">It may be the soul's worth it.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">There is more:</span><br /> +The souls that you have bought must be set free.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We know of but one soul that's worth the price.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Being my own it seems a priceless thing.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">You offer us——</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">I offer my own soul.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Do not, do not, for souls the like of ours<br /> +Are not precious to God as your soul is.<br /> +O! what would Heaven do without you, lady?</p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span>Look how their claws clutch in their leathern gloves.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Five hundred thousand crowns; we give the price.<br /> +The gold is here; the souls even while you speak<br /> +Have slipped out of our bond, because your face<br /> +Has shed a light on them and filled their hearts.<br /> +But you must sign, for we omit no form<br /> +In buying a soul like yours.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Sign with this quill</span><br /> +It was a feather growing on the cock<br /> +That crowed when Peter dared deny his Master,<br /> +And all who use it have great honour in Hell.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">CATHLEEN</span> <i>leans forward to sign</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL (<i>rushing forward and snatching the +pen from her</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Leave all things to the builder of the heavens.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">I have no thoughts; I hear a cry—a cry.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL (<i>casting the pen on the ground</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">I have seen a vision under a green hedge,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span>A hedge of hips and haws—men yet shall hear<br /> +The Archangels rolling Satan's empty skull<br /> +Over the mountain-tops.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">Take him away.</span></p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">TEIG</span> <i>and</i> SHEMUS <i>drag him roughly away so that +he falls upon the floor among the</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span>. +<span class="smcap">CATHLEEN</span> <i>picks up parchment and signs, then +turns towards the</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Take up the money, and now come with me;<br /> +When we are far from this polluted place<br /> +I will give everybody money enough.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She goes out, the</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>crowding round her +and kissing her dress</i>. <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>and the two</i> +<span class="smcap">MERCHANTS</span> <i>are left alone</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We must away and wait until she dies,<br /> +Sitting above her tower as two grey owls,<br /> +Waiting as many years as may be, guarding<br /> +Our precious jewel; waiting to seize her soul.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span>We need but hover over her head in the air,<br /> +For she has only minutes. When she signed<br /> +Her heart began to break. Hush, hush, I hear<br /> +The brazen door of Hell move on its hinges,<br /> +And the eternal revelry float hither<br /> +To hearten us.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9em;">Leap feathered on the air</span><br /> +And meet them with her soul caught in your claws.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>They rush out.</i> <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>crawls into the middle of +the room</i>. <i>The twilight has fallen and +gradually darkens as the scene goes on. There +is a distant muttering of thunder and a +sound of rising storm.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">The brazen door stands wide, and Balor comes<br /> +Borne in his heavy car, and demons have lifted<br /> +The age-weary eyelids from the eyes that of old<br /> +Turned gods to stone; Barach, the traitor, comes<br /> +And the lascivious race, Cailitin,<br /> +That cast a druid weakness and decay<br /> +Over Sualtem's and old Dectera's child;<br /> +And that great king Hell first took hold upon<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span>When he killed Naisi and broke Deirdre's heart<br /> +And all their heads are twisted to one side,<br /> +For when they lived they warred on beauty and peace<br /> +With obstinate, crafty, sidelong bitterness.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He moves about as though the air above him +was full of spirits</i>. <span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>enters</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">Crouch down, old heron, out of the blind storm.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Where is the Countess Cathleen? All this day<br /> +Her eyes were full of tears, and when for a moment<br /> +Her hand was laid upon my hand it trembled,<br /> +And now I do not know where she is gone.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Cathleen has chosen other friends than us,<br /> +And they are rising through the hollow world.<br /> +Demons are out, old heron.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">God guard her soul.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">She's bartered it away this very hour,<br /> +As though we two were never in the world.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He points downward.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span></p> + +<p class="speech">First, Orchill, her pale, beautiful head<br /> +Her body shadowy as vapour drifting<br /> +Under the dawn, for she who awoke desire<br /> +Has but a heart of blood when others die;<br /> +About her is a vapoury multitude<br /> +Of women alluring devils with soft laughter;<br /> +Behind her a host heat of the blood made sin,<br /> +But all the little pink-white nails have grown<br /> +To be great talons.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He seizes</i> <span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>and drags her into the middle of +the room and points downward with vehement +gestures</i>. <i>The wind roars.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">They begin a song</span><br /> +And there is still some music on their tongues.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA (<i>casting herself face downwards on the floor</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">O, Maker of all, protect her from the demons,<br /> +And if a soul must need be lost, take mine.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>kneels beside her, but does not seem to hear +her words</i>. <i>The</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>return</i>. <i>They +carry the</i> <span class="smcap">COUNTESS CATHLEEN</span> <i>and lay her +upon the ground before</i> <span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span>. +<i>She lies there as if dead.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">O, that so many pitchers of rough clay<br /> +Should prosper and the porcelain break in two!</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She kisses the hands of</i> <span class="smcap">CATHLEEN</span>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We were under the tree where the path turns,<br /> +When she grew pale as death and fainted away.<br /> +And while we bore her hither cloudy gusts<br /> +Blackened the world and shook us on our feet;<br /> +Draw the great bolt, for no man has beheld<br /> +So black, bitter, blinding, and sudden a storm.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>One who is near the door draws the bolt.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">O, hold me, and hold me tightly, for the storm<br /> +Is dragging me away.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>takes her in her arms</i>. <span class="smcap">A woman</span> <i>begins +to wail</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">PEASANTS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">PEASANT WOMEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 19em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">OTHER PEASANT WOMEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 22em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>half rising</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Lay all the bags of money in a heap,<br /> +And when I am gone, old Oona, share them out<br /> +To every man and woman: judge, and give<br /> +According to their needs.</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">And will she give</span><br /> +Enough to keep my children through the dearth?</p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">O, Queen of Heaven, and all you blessed saints,<br /> +Let us and ours be lost so she be shriven.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Bend down your faces, Oona and Aleel;<br /> +I gaze upon them as the swallow gazes<br /> +Upon the nest under the eave, before<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span>She wander the loud waters. Do not weep<br /> +Too great a while, for there is many a candle<br /> +On the High Altar though one fall. Aleel,<br /> +Who sang about the dancers of the woods,<br /> +That know not the hard burden of the world,<br /> +Having but breath in their kind bodies, farewell!<br /> +And farewell, Oona, you who played with me,<br /> +And bore me in your arms about the house<br /> +When I was but a child and therefore happy,<br /> +Therefore happy, even like those that dance.<br /> +The storm is in my hair and I must go.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She dies.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Bring me the looking-glass.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">A woman</span> <i>brings it to her out of the inner room</i>. +<span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>holds it over the lips of</i> <span class="smcap">CATHLEEN</span>. +<i>All is silent for a moment. And then she +speaks in a half scream</i>:)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">O, she is dead!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">She was the great white lily of the world.</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span>She was more beautiful than the pale stars.</p> + +<p class="actor">AN OLD PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">The little plant I love is broken in two.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>takes looking-glass from</i> <span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>and flings +it upon the floor so that it is broken in +many pieces</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">I shatter you in fragments, for the face<br /> +That brimmed you up with beauty is no more:<br /> +And die, dull heart, for she whose mournful words<br /> +Made you a living spirit has passed away<br /> +And left you but a ball of passionate dust.<br /> +And you, proud earth and plumy sea, fade out!<br /> +For you may hear no more her faltering feet,<br /> +But are left lonely amid the clamorous war<br /> +Of angels upon devils.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He stands up; almost every one is kneeling, but +it has grown so dark that only confused +forms can be seen.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">And I who weep</span><br /> +Call curses on you, Time and Fate and Change,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span>And have no excellent hope but the great hour<br /> +When you shall plunge headlong through bottomless space.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A flash of lightning followed immediately by +thunder.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">Pull him upon his knees before his curses<br /> +Have plucked thunder and lightning on our heads.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Angels and devils clash in the middle air,<br /> +And brazen swords clang upon brazen helms.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A flash of lightning followed immediately by +thunder.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Yonder a bright spear, cast out of a sling,<br /> +Has torn through Balor's eye, and the dark clans<br /> +Fly screaming as they fled Moytura of old.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Everything is lost in darkness.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">AN OLD MAN</p> + +<p class="speech">The Almighty wrath at our great weakness and sin<br /> +Has blotted out the world and we must die.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>The darkness is broken by a visionary light. +The</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>seem to be kneeling upon the</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span> +<i>rocky slope of a mountain, and vapour full +of storm and ever-changing light is sweeping +above them and behind them. Half in the +light, half in the shadow, stand armed +angels. Their armour is old and worn, +and their drawn swords dim and dinted. +They stand as if upon the air in formation +of battle and look downward with stern +faces. The</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>cast themselves on the +ground</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Look no more on the half-closed gates of Hell,<br /> +But speak to me, whose mind is smitten of God,<br /> +That it may be no more with mortal things,<br /> +And tell of her who lies there.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He seizes one of the angels.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Till you speak</span><br /> +You shall not drift into eternity.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE ANGEL</p> + +<p class="speech">The light beats down; the gates of pearl are wide<br /> +And she is passing to the floor of peace,<br /> +And Mary of the seven times wounded heart<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span>Has kissed her lips, and the long blessed hair<br /> +Has fallen on her face; The Light of Lights<br /> +Looks always on the motive, not the deed,<br /> +The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>releases the</i> <span class="smcap">ANGEL</span> <i>and kneels</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Tell them who walk upon the floor of peace<br /> +That I would die and go to her I love;<br /> +The years like great black oxen tread the world,<br /> +And God the herdsman goads them on behind<br /> +And I am broken by their passing feet.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A sound of far-off horns seems to come from the +heart of the Light. The vision melts away, +and the forms of the kneeling</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> +<i>appear faintly in the darkness</i>.)</p> + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_ROSE" id="THE_ROSE"></a>THE ROSE</h2> +</div> + + +<p class="center p6">"<i>Sero te amavi, Pulchritudo tam antiqua et tam nova! Sero te +amavi.</i>"</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">S. Augustine.</span></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span></p> + + +<p class="center p6">TO LIONEL JOHNSON</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span></p> + + +<h3 class="p6"><a name="TO_THE_ROSE_UPON_THE_ROOD_OF_TIME" id="TO_THE_ROSE_UPON_THE_ROOD_OF_TIME"></a>TO THE ROSE UPON THE ROOD OF +TIME</h3> + + +<p> +<i>Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days!<br /> +Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways:<br /> +Cuchulain battling with the bitter tide;<br /> +The Druid, gray, wood-nurtured, quiet-eyed,<br /> +Who cast round Fergus dreams, and ruin untold;<br /> +And thine own sadness, whereof stars, grown old<br /> +In dancing silver sandalled on the sea,<br /> +Sing in their high and lonely melody.<br /> +Come near, that no more blinded by man's fate,<br /> +I find under the boughs of love and hate,<br /> +In all poor foolish things that live a day,<br /> +Eternal beauty wandering on her way.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Come near, come near, come near—Ah, leave me still<br /> +A little space for the rose-breath to fill!<br /> +Lest I no more hear common things that crave;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span>The weak worm hiding down in its small cave,</i><br /> +<i>The field mouse running by me in the grass,<br /> +And heavy mortal hopes that toil and pass;<br /> +But seek alone to hear the strange things said<br /> +By God to the bright hearts of those long dead,<br /> +And learn to chaunt a tongue men do not know.<br /> +Come near; I would, before my time to go,<br /> +Sing of old Eire and the ancient ways:<br /> +Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days.</i></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="FERGUS_AND_THE_DRUID" id="FERGUS_AND_THE_DRUID"></a>FERGUS AND THE DRUID</h3> + + +<p class="actor">FERGUS</p> + +<p class="speech">The whole day have I followed in the rocks,<br /> +And you have changed and flowed from shape to shape.<br /> +First as a raven on whose ancient wings<br /> +Scarcely a feather lingered, then you seemed<br /> +A weasel moving on from stone to stone,<br /> +And now at last you wear a human shape,<br /> +A thin gray man half lost in gathering night.</p> + +<p class="actor">DRUID</p> + +<p class="speech">What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings?</p> + +<p class="actor">FERGUS</p> + +<p class="speech">This would I say, most wise of living souls:<br /> +Young subtle Concobar sat close by me<br /> +When I gave judgment, and his words were wise,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span>And what to me was burden without end,<br /> +To him seemed easy, so I laid the crown<br /> +Upon his head to cast away my care.</p> + +<p class="actor">DRUID</p> + +<p class="speech">What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings?</p> + +<p class="actor">FERGUS</p> + +<p class="speech">I feast amid my people on the hill,<br /> +And pace the woods, and drive my chariot wheels<br /> +In the white border of the murmuring sea;<br /> +And still I feel the crown upon my head.</p> + +<p class="actor">DRUID</p> + +<p class="speech">What would you?</p> + +<p class="actor">FERGUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9em;">I would be no more a king</span><br /> +But learn the dreaming wisdom that is yours.</p> + +<p class="actor">DRUID</p> + +<p class="speech">Look on my thin gray hair and hollow cheeks<br /> +And on these hands that may not lift the sword<br /> +This body trembling like a wind-blown reed.<br /> +No woman loves me, no man seeks my help,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span>Because I be not of the things I dream.</p> + +<p class="actor">FERGUS</p> + +<p class="speech">A wild and foolish labourer is a king,<br /> +To do and do and do, and never dream.</p> + +<p class="actor">DRUID</p> + +<p class="speech">Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams;<br /> +Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.</p> + +<p class="actor">FERGUS</p> + +<p class="speech">I see my life go dripping like a stream<br /> +From change to change; I have been many things,<br /> +A green drop in the surge, a gleam of light<br /> +Upon a sword, a fir-tree on a hill,<br /> +An old slave grinding at a heavy quern,<br /> +A king sitting upon a chair of gold,<br /> +And all these things were wonderful and great;<br /> +But now I have grown nothing, being all,<br /> +And the whole world weighs down upon my heart:<br /> +Ah! Druid, Druid, how great webs of sorrow<br /> +Lay hidden in the small slate-coloured bag!</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_DEATH_OF_CUCHULAIN" id="THE_DEATH_OF_CUCHULAIN"></a>THE DEATH OF CUCHULAIN</h3> + + +<p> +A man came slowly from the setting sun,<br /> +To Forgail's daughter, Emer, in her dun,<br /> +And found her dyeing cloth with subtle care,<br /> +And said, casting aside his draggled hair:<br /> +"I am Aleel, the swineherd, whom you bid<br /> +"Go dwell upon the sea cliffs, vapour hid;<br /> +"But now my years of watching are no more."<br /> +<br /> +Then Emer cast the web upon the floor,<br /> +And stretching out her arms, red with the dye,<br /> +Parted her lips with a loud sudden cry.<br /> +<br /> +Looking on her, Aleel, the swineherd, said:<br /> +"Not any god alive, nor mortal dead,<br /> +"Has slain so mighty armies, so great kings,<br /> +"Nor won the gold that now Cuchulain brings."<br /> +<br /> +"Why do you tremble thus from feet to crown?"<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span>Aleel, the swineherd, wept and cast him down<br /> +Upon the web-heaped floor, and thus his word:<br /> +"With him is one sweet-throated like a bird."<br /> +<br /> +"Who bade you tell these things?" and then she cried<br /> +To those about, "Beat him with thongs of hide<br /> +"And drive him from the door."<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">And thus it was:</span><br /> +And where her son, Finmole, on the smooth grass<br /> +Was driving cattle, came she with swift feet,<br /> +And called out to him, "Son, it is not meet<br /> +"That you stay idling here with flocks and herds."<br /> +<br /> +"I have long waited, mother, for those words:<br /> +"But wherefore now?"<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">"There is a man to die;</span><br /> +"You have the heaviest arm under the sky."<br /> +<br /> +"My father dwells among the sea-worn bands,<br /> +"And breaks the ridge of battle with his hands."<br /> +<br /> +"Nay, you are taller than Cuchulain, son."<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span>"He is the mightiest man in ship or dun."<br /> +<br /> +"Nay, he is old and sad with many wars,<br /> +"And weary of the crash of battle cars."<br /> +<br /> +"I only ask what way my journey lies,<br /> +"For God, who made you bitter, made you wise."<br /> +<br /> +"The Red Branch kings a tireless banquet keep,<br /> +"Where the sun falls into the Western deep.<br /> +"Go there, and dwell on the green forest rim;<br /> +"But tell alone your name and house to him<br /> +"Whose blade compels, and bid them send you one<br /> +"Who has a like vow from their triple dun."<br /> +<br /> +Between the lavish shelter of a wood<br /> +And the gray tide, the Red Branch multitude<br /> +Feasted, and with them old Cuchulain dwelt,<br /> +And his young dear one close beside him knelt,<br /> +And gazed upon the wisdom of his eyes,<br /> +More mournful than the depth of starry skies,<br /> +And pondered on the wonder of his days;<br /> +And all around the harp-string told his praise,<br /> +And Concobar, the Red Branch king of kings,<br /> +With his own fingers touched the brazen strings.<br /> +At last Cuchulain spake, "A young man strays<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span>"Driving the deer along the woody ways.<br /> +"I often hear him singing to and fro,<br /> +"I often hear the sweet sound of his bow,<br /> +"Seek out what man he is."<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">One went and came.</span><br /> +"He bade me let all know he gives his name<br /> +"At the sword point, and bade me bring him one<br /> +"Who had a like vow from our triple dun."<br /> +<br /> +"I only of the Red Branch hosted now,"<br /> +Cuchulain cried, "have made and keep that vow."<br /> +<br /> +After short fighting in the leafy shade,<br /> +He spake to the young man, "Is there no maid<br /> +"Who loves you, no white arms to wrap you round,<br /> +"Or do you long for the dim sleepy ground,<br /> +"That you come here to meet this ancient sword?"<br /> +<br /> +"The dooms of men are in God's hidden hoard."<br /> +<br /> +"Your head a while seemed like a woman's head<br /> +"That I loved once."<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Again the fighting sped,</span><br /> +But now the war rage in Cuchulain woke,<br /> +And through the other's shield his long blade broke,<br /> +And pierced him.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span><span style="margin-left: 8em;">"Speak before your breath is done."</span><br /> +"I am Finmole, mighty Cuchulain's son."<br /> +<br /> +"I put you from your pain. I can no more."<br /> +<br /> +While day its burden on to evening bore,<br /> +With head bowed on his knees Cuchulain stayed;<br /> +Then Concobar sent that sweet-throated maid,<br /> +And she, to win him, his gray hair caressed;<br /> +In vain her arms, in vain her soft white breast.<br /> +Then Concobar, the subtlest of all men,<br /> +Ranking his Druids round him ten by ten,<br /> +Spake thus, "Cuchulain will dwell there and brood,<br /> +"For three days more in dreadful quietude,<br /> +"And then arise, and raving slay us all.<br /> +"Go, cast on him delusions magical,<br /> +"That he might fight the waves of the loud sea."<br /> +And ten by ten under a quicken tree,<br /> +The Druids chaunted, swaying in their hands<br /> +Tall wands of alder, and white quicken wands.<br /> +<br /> +In three days' time, Cuchulain with a moan<br /> +Stood up, and came to the long sands alone:<br /> +For four days warred he with the bitter tide;<br /> +And the waves flowed above him, and he died.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_ROSE_OF_THE_WORLD" id="THE_ROSE_OF_THE_WORLD"></a>THE ROSE OF THE WORLD</h3> + + +<p> +Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream?<br /> +For these red lips, with all their mournful pride,<br /> +Mournful that no new wonder may betide,<br /> +Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam,<br /> +And Usna's children died.<br /> +<br /> +We and the labouring world are passing by:<br /> +Amid men's souls, that waver and give place,<br /> +Like the pale waters in their wintry race,<br /> +Under the passing stars, foam of the sky,<br /> +Lives on this lonely face.<br /> +<br /> +Bow down, archangels, in your dim abode:<br /> +Before you were, or any hearts to beat,<br /> +Weary and kind one lingered by His seat;<br /> +He made the world to be a grassy road<br /> +Before her wandering feet.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_ROSE_OF_PEACE" id="THE_ROSE_OF_PEACE"></a>THE ROSE OF PEACE</h3> + + +<p> +If Michael, leader of God's host<br /> +When Heaven and Hell are met,<br /> +Looked down on you from Heaven's door-post<br /> +He would his deeds forget.<br /> +<br /> +Brooding no more upon God's wars<br /> +In his Divine homestead,<br /> +He would go weave out of the stars<br /> +A chaplet for your head.<br /> +<br /> +And all folk seeing him bow down,<br /> +And white stars tell your praise,<br /> +Would come at last to God's great town,<br /> +Led on by gentle ways;<br /> +<br /> +And God would bid His warfare cease.<br /> +Saying all things were well;<br /> +And softly make a rosy peace,<br /> +A peace of Heaven with Hell.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_ROSE_OF_BATTLE" id="THE_ROSE_OF_BATTLE"></a>THE ROSE OF BATTLE</h3> + + +<p> +Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World!<br /> +The tall thought-woven sails, that flap unfurled<br /> +Above the tide of hours, trouble the air,<br /> +And God's bell buoyed to be the water's care;<br /> +While hushed from fear, or loud with hope, a band<br /> +With blown, spray-dabbled hair gather at hand.<br /> +<i>Turn if you may from battles never done</i>,<br /> +I call, as they go by me one by one,<br /> +<i>Danger no refuge holds; and war no peace,<br /> +For him who hears love sing and never cease,<br /> +Beside her clean-swept hearth, her quiet shade:<br /> +But gather all for whom no love hath made<br /> +A woven silence, or but came to cast<br /> +A song into the air, and singing past<br /> +To smile on the pale dawn; and gather you<br /> +Who have sought more than is in rain or dew<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span>Or in the sun and moon, or on the earth,</i><br /> +<i>Or sighs amid the wandering, starry mirth,<br /> +Or comes in laughter from the sea's sad lips<br /> +And wage God's battles in the long gray ships.<br /> +The sad, the lonely, the insatiable,<br /> +To these Old Night shall all her mystery tell;<br /> +God's bell has claimed them by the little cry<br /> +Of their sad hearts, that may not live nor die.</i><br /> +<br /> +Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World!<br /> +You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled<br /> +Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring<br /> +The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.<br /> +Beauty grown sad with its eternity<br /> +Made you of us, and of the dim gray sea.<br /> +Our long ships loose thought-woven sails and wait,<br /> +For God has bid them share an equal fate;<br /> +And when at last defeated in His wars,<br /> +They have gone down under the same white stars,<br /> +We shall no longer hear the little cry<br /> +Of our sad hearts, that may not live nor die.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="A_FAERY_SONG" id="A_FAERY_SONG"></a>A FAERY SONG</h3> + + +<p class="exposition"><i>Sung by the people of faery over Diarmuid and Grania, who lay +in their bridal sleep under a Cromlech.</i></p> + +<p> +We who are old, old and gay,<br /> +O so old!<br /> +Thousands of years, thousands of years,<br /> +If all were told:<br /> +<br /> +Give to these children, new from the world,<br /> +Silence and love;<br /> +And the long dew-dropping hours of the night,<br /> +And the stars above:<br /> +<br /> +Give to these children, new from the world,<br /> +Rest far from men.<br /> +Is anything better, anything better?<br /> +Tell us it then:<br /> +<br /> +Us who are old, old and gay,<br /> +O so old!<br /> +Thousands of years, thousands of years,<br /> +If all were told.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_LAKE_ISLE_OF_INNISFREE" id="THE_LAKE_ISLE_OF_INNISFREE"></a>THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE</h3> + + +<p> +I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,<br /> +And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:<br /> +Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,<br /> +And live alone in the bee-loud glade.<br /> +<br /> +And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,<br /> +Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;<br /> +There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,<br /> +And evening full of the linnet's wings.<br /> +<br /> +I will arise and go now, for always night and day<br /> +I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;<br /> +While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,<br /> +I hear it in the deep heart's core.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="A_CRADLE_SONG" id="A_CRADLE_SONG"></a>A CRADLE SONG</h3> + + +<p> +"<i>Coth yani me von gilli beg,<br /> +'N heur ve thu more a creena</i>."<br /> +<br /> +The angels are stooping<br /> +Above your bed;<br /> +They weary of trooping<br /> +With the whimpering dead.<br /> +<br /> +God's laughing in heaven<br /> +To see you so good;<br /> +The Shining Seven<br /> +Are gay with His mood.<br /> +<br /> +I kiss you and kiss you,<br /> +My pigeon, my own;<br /> +Ah, how I shall miss you<br /> +When you have grown.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_PITY_OF_LOVE" id="THE_PITY_OF_LOVE"></a>THE PITY OF LOVE</h3> + + +<p> +A pity beyond all telling<br /> +Is hid in the heart of love:<br /> +The folk who are buying and selling<br /> +The clouds on their journey above<br /> +The cold wet winds ever blowing<br /> +And the shadowy hazel grove<br /> +Where mouse-gray waters are flowing<br /> +Threaten the head that I love.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_SORROW_OF_LOVE" id="THE_SORROW_OF_LOVE"></a>THE SORROW OF LOVE</h3> + + +<p> +The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,<br /> +The full round moon and the star-laden sky,<br /> +And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves,<br /> +Had hid away earth's old and weary cry.<br /> +<br /> +And then you came with those red mournful lips,<br /> +And with you came the whole of the world's tears<br /> +And all the trouble of her labouring ships,<br /> +And all the trouble of her myriad years.<br /> +<br /> +And now the sparrows warring in the eaves,<br /> +The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky,<br /> +And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves,<br /> +Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="WHEN_YOU_ARE_OLD" id="WHEN_YOU_ARE_OLD"></a>WHEN YOU ARE OLD</h3> + + +<p> +When you are old and gray and full of sleep,<br /> +And nodding by the fire, take down this book,<br /> +And slowly read, and dream of the soft look<br /> +Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;<br /> +<br /> +How many loved your moments of glad grace,<br /> +And loved your beauty will love false or true;<br /> +But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,<br /> +And loved the sorrows of your changing face.<br /> +<br /> +And bending down beside the glowing bars<br /> +Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled<br /> +And paced upon the mountains overhead<br /> +And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_WHITE_BIRDS" id="THE_WHITE_BIRDS"></a>THE WHITE BIRDS</h3> + + +<p> +I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!<br /> +We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;<br /> +And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,<br /> +Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.<br /> +<br /> +A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew dabbled, the lily and rose;<br /> +Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,<br /> +Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span>For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam: I and you!<br /> +<br /> +I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,<br /> +Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more;<br /> +Soon far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be,<br /> +Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea!</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="A_DREAM_OF_DEATH" id="A_DREAM_OF_DEATH"></a>A DREAM OF DEATH</h3> + + +<p> +I dreamed that one had died in a strange place<br /> +Near no accustomed hand;<br /> +And they had nailed the boards above her face<br /> +The peasants of that land,<br /> +Wondering to lay her in that solitude,<br /> +And raised above her mound<br /> +A cross they had made out of two bits of wood,<br /> +And planted cypress round;<br /> +And left her to the indifferent stars above<br /> +Until I carved these words:<br /> +<i>She was more beautiful than thy first love,<br /> +But now lies under boards</i>.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="A_DREAM_OF_A_BLESSED_SPIRIT" id="A_DREAM_OF_A_BLESSED_SPIRIT"></a>A DREAM OF A BLESSED SPIRIT</h3> + + +<p> +All the heavy days are over;<br /> +Leave the body's coloured pride<br /> +Underneath the grass and clover,<br /> +With the feet laid side by side.<br /> +<br /> +One with her are mirth and duty,<br /> +Bear the gold embroidered dress,<br /> +For she needs not her sad beauty,<br /> +To the scented oaken press.<br /> +<br /> +Hers the kiss of Mother Mary,<br /> +The long hair is on her face;<br /> +Still she goes with footsteps wary,<br /> +Full of earth's old timid grace.<br /> +<br /> +With white feet of angels seven<br /> +Her white feet go glimmering<br /> +And above the deep of heaven,<br /> +Flame on flame and wing on wing.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="WHO_GOES_WITH_FERGUS" id="WHO_GOES_WITH_FERGUS"></a>WHO GOES WITH FERGUS?</h3> + + +<p> +Who will go drive with Fergus now,<br /> +And pierce the deep wood's woven shade,<br /> +And dance upon the level shore?<br /> +Young man, lift up your russet brow,<br /> +And lift your tender eyelids, maid,<br /> +And brood on hopes and fears no more.<br /> +<br /> +And no more turn aside and brood<br /> +Upon Love's bitter mystery;<br /> +For Fergus rules the brazen cars,<br /> +And rules the shadows of the wood,<br /> +And the white breast of the dim sea<br /> +And all dishevelled wandering stars.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_MAN_WHO_DREAMED_OF_FAERYLAND" id="THE_MAN_WHO_DREAMED_OF_FAERYLAND"></a>THE MAN WHO DREAMED OF +FAERYLAND</h3> + + +<p> +He stood among a crowd at Drumahair;<br /> +His heart hung all upon a silken dress,<br /> +And he had known at last some tenderness,<br /> +Before earth made of him her sleepy care;<br /> +But when a man poured fish into a pile,<br /> +It seemed they raised their little silver heads,<br /> +And sang how day a Druid twilight sheds<br /> +Upon a dim, green, well-beloved isle,<br /> +Where people love beside star-laden seas;<br /> +How Time may never mar their faery vows<br /> +Under the woven roofs of quicken boughs:<br /> +The singing shook him out of his new ease.<br /> +<br /> +He wandered by the sands of Lisadill;<br /> +His mind ran all on money cares and fears,<br /> +And he had known at last some prudent years<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span>Before they heaped his grave under the hill;<br /> +But while he passed before a plashy place,<br /> +A lug-worm with its gray and muddy mouth<br /> +Sang how somewhere to north or west or south<br /> +There dwelt a gay, exulting, gentle race;<br /> +And how beneath those three times blessed skies<br /> +A Danaan fruitage makes a shower of moons,<br /> +And as it falls awakens leafy tunes:<br /> +And at that singing he was no more wise.<br /> +<br /> +He mused beside the well of Scanavin,<br /> +He mused upon his mockers: without fail<br /> +His sudden vengeance were a country tale,<br /> +Now that deep earth has drunk his body in;<br /> +But one small knot-grass growing by the pool<br /> +Told where, ah, little, all-unneeded voice!<br /> +Old Silence bids a lonely folk rejoice,<br /> +And chaplet their calm brows with leafage cool,<br /> +And how, when fades the sea-strewn rose of day,<br /> +A gentle feeling wraps them like a fleece,<br /> +And all their trouble dies into its peace:<br /> +The tale drove his fine angry mood away.<br /> +<br /> +He slept under the hill of Lugnagall;<br /> +And might have known at last unhaunted sleep<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span>Under that cold and vapour-turbaned steep,<br /> +Now that old earth had taken man and all:<br /> +Were not the worms that spired about his bones<br /> +A-telling with their low and reedy cry,<br /> +Of how God leans His hands out of the sky,<br /> +To bless that isle with honey in His tones;<br /> +That none may feel the power of squall and wave<br /> +And no one any leaf-crowned dancer miss<br /> +Until He burn up Nature with a kiss:<br /> +The man has found no comfort in the grave.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_DEDICATION_TO_A_BOOK_OF_STORIES_SELECTED_FROM_THE_IRISH_NOVELISTS" id="THE_DEDICATION_TO_A_BOOK_OF_STORIES_SELECTED_FROM_THE_IRISH_NOVELISTS"></a>THE DEDICATION TO A BOOK OF +STORIES SELECTED FROM THE +IRISH NOVELISTS</h3> + + +<p> +There was a green branch hung with many a bell<br /> +When her own people ruled in wave-worn Eire;<br /> +And from its murmuring greenness, calm of faery,<br /> +A Druid kindness, on all hearers fell.<br /> +<br /> +It charmed away the merchant from his guile,<br /> +And turned the farmer's memory from his cattle,<br /> +And hushed in sleep the roaring ranks of battle,<br /> +For all who heard it dreamed a little while.<br /> +<br /> +Ah, Exiles wandering over many seas,<br /> +Spinning at all times Eire's good to-morrow!<br /> +Ah, worldwide Nation, always growing Sorrow!<br /> +I also bear a bell branch full of ease.<br /> +<br /> +I tore it from green boughs winds tossed and hurled,<br /> +Green boughs of tossing always, weary, weary!<br /> +I tore it from the green boughs of old Eire,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span>The willow of the many-sorrowed world.<br /> +<br /> +Ah, Exiles, wandering over many lands!<br /> +My bell branch murmurs: the gay bells bring laughter,<br /> +Leaping to shake a cobweb from the rafter;<br /> +The sad bells bow the forehead on the hands.<br /> +<br /> +A honeyed ringing: under the new skies<br /> +They bring you memories of old village faces,<br /> +Cabins gone now, old well-sides, old dear places;<br /> +And men who loved the cause that never dies.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_LAMENTATION_OF_THE_OLD_PENSIONER" id="THE_LAMENTATION_OF_THE_OLD_PENSIONER"></a>THE LAMENTATION OF THE OLD +PENSIONER</h3> + + +<p> +I had a chair at every hearth,<br /> +When no one turned to see,<br /> +With "Look at that old fellow there,<br /> +"And who may he be?"<br /> +And therefore do I wander now,<br /> +And the fret lies on me.<br /> +<br /> +The road-side trees keep murmuring<br /> +Ah, wherefore murmur ye,<br /> +As in the old days long gone by,<br /> +Green oak and poplar tree?<br /> +The well-known faces are all gone<br /> +And the fret lies on me.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_BALLAD_OF_FATHER_GILLIGAN" id="THE_BALLAD_OF_FATHER_GILLIGAN"></a>THE BALLAD OF FATHER GILLIGAN</h3> + + +<p> +The old priest Peter Gilligan<br /> +Was weary night and day;<br /> +For half his flock were in their beds,<br /> +Or under green sods lay.<br /> +<br /> +Once, while he nodded on a chair,<br /> +At the moth-hour of eve,<br /> +Another poor man sent for him,<br /> +And he began to grieve.<br /> +<br /> +"I have no rest, nor joy, nor peace,<br /> +"For people die and die";<br /> +And after cried he, "God forgive!<br /> +"My body spake, not I!"<br /> +<br /> +He knelt, and leaning on the chair<br /> +He prayed and fell asleep;<br /> +And the moth-hour went from the fields,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span>And stars began to peep.<br /> +<br /> +They slowly into millions grew,<br /> +And leaves shook in the wind;<br /> +And God covered the world with shade,<br /> +And whispered to mankind.<br /> +<br /> +Upon the time of sparrow chirp<br /> +When the moths came once more,<br /> +The old priest Peter Gilligan<br /> +Stood upright on the floor.<br /> +<br /> +"Mavrone, mavrone! the man has died,<br /> +"While I slept on the chair";<br /> +He roused his horse out of its sleep,<br /> +And rode with little care.<br /> +<br /> +He rode now as he never rode,<br /> +By rocky lane and fen;<br /> +The sick man's wife opened the door:<br /> +"Father! you come again!"<br /> +<br /> +"And is the poor man dead?" he cried,<br /> +"He died an hour ago,"<br /> +The old priest Peter Gilligan<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span>In grief swayed to and fro.<br /> +<br /> +"When you were gone, he turned and died<br /> +"As merry as a bird."<br /> +The old priest Peter Gilligan<br /> +He knelt him at that word.<br /> +<br /> +"He who hath made the night of stars<br /> +"For souls, who tire and bleed,<br /> +"Sent one of His great angels down<br /> +"To help me in my need.<br /> +<br /> +"He who is wrapped in purple robes,<br /> +"With planets in His care,<br /> +"Had pity on the least of things<br /> +"Asleep upon a chair."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_TWO_TREES" id="THE_TWO_TREES"></a>THE TWO TREES</h3> + + +<p> +Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,<br /> +The holy tree is growing there;<br /> +From joy the holy branches start,<br /> +And all the trembling flowers they bear.<br /> +The changing colours of its fruit<br /> +Have dowered the stars with merry light;<br /> +The surety of its hidden root<br /> +Has planted quiet in the night;<br /> +The shaking of its leafy head<br /> +Has given the waves their melody,<br /> +And made my lips and music wed,<br /> +Murmuring a wizard song for thee.<br /> +There, through bewildered branches, go<br /> +Winged Loves borne on in gentle strife,<br /> +Tossing and tossing to and fro<br /> +The flaming circle of our life.<br /> +When looking on their shaken hair,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span>And dreaming how they dance and dart,<br /> +Thine eyes grow full of tender care:<br /> +Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.<br /> +<br /> +Gaze no more in the bitter glass<br /> +The demons, with their subtle guile,<br /> +Lift up before us when they pass,<br /> +Or only gaze a little while;<br /> +For there a fatal image grows,<br /> +With broken boughs, and blackened leaves,<br /> +And roots half hidden under snows<br /> +Driven by a storm that ever grieves.<br /> +For all things turn to barrenness<br /> +In the dim glass the demons hold,<br /> +The glass of outer weariness,<br /> +Made when God slept in times of old.<br /> +There, through the broken branches, go<br /> +The ravens of unresting thought;<br /> +Peering and flying to and fro<br /> +To see men's souls bartered and bought.<br /> +When they are heard upon the wind,<br /> +And when they shake their wings; alas!<br /> +Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:<br /> +Gaze no more in the bitter glass.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="TO_IRELAND_IN_THE_COMING_TIMES" id="TO_IRELAND_IN_THE_COMING_TIMES"></a>TO IRELAND IN THE COMING TIMES</h3> + + +<p> +<i>Know, that I would accounted be<br /> +True brother of that company,<br /> +Who sang to sweeten Ireland's wrong,<br /> +Ballad and story, rann and song;<br /> +Nor be I any less of them,<br /> +Because the red-rose-bordered hem<br /> +Of her, whose history began<br /> +Before God made the angelic clan,<br /> +Trails all about the written page;<br /> +For in the world's first blossoming age<br /> +The light fall of her flying feet<br /> +Made Ireland's heart begin to beat;<br /> +And still the starry candles flare<br /> +To help her light foot here and there;<br /> +And still the thoughts of Ireland brood<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span>Upon her holy quietude.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Nor may I less be counted one<br /> +With Davis, Mangan, Ferguson,<br /> +Because to him, who ponders well,<br /> +My rhymes more than their rhyming tell<br /> +Of the dim wisdoms old and deep,<br /> +That God gives unto man in sleep.<br /> +For the elemental beings go<br /> +About my table to and fro.<br /> +In flood and fire and clay and wind,<br /> +They huddle from man's pondering mind;<br /> +Yet he who treads in austere ways<br /> +May surely meet their ancient gaze.<br /> +Man ever journeys on with them<br /> +After the red-rose-bordered hem.<br /> +Ah, faeries, dancing under the moon,<br /> +A Druid land, a Druid tune!</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>While still I may, I write for you<br /> +The love I lived, the dream I knew.<br /> +From our birthday, until we die,<br /> +Is but the winking of an eye;<br /> +And we, our singing and our love,<br /> +The mariners of night above,<br /> +And all the wizard things that go<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span>About my table to and fro.<br /> +Are passing on to where may be,<br /> +In truth's consuming ecstasy<br /> +No place for love and dream at all;<br /> +For God goes by with white foot-fall.<br /> +I cast my heart into my rhymes,<br /> +That you, in the dim coming times,<br /> +May know how my heart went with them<br /> +After the red-rose-bordered hem.</i></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span></p> +<h2> +<a name="THE_LAND_OF_HEARTS_DESIRE" id="THE_LAND_OF_HEARTS_DESIRE"> +</a> +THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span></p> +<p class="center p6"> +<i>O Rose, thou art sick.</i></p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">William Blake.</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span></p> + +<p class="center p6">TO<br /> +FLORENCE FARR</p> + +<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="characters"> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Maurteen Bruin</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Bridget Bruin</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Shawn Bruin</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mary Bruin</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Father Hart</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Faery Child</span></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p class="exposition"><i>The Scene is laid in the Barony of Kilmacowen, in the +County of Sligo, and at a remote time.</i></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span></p> + + +<p class="exposition"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A room with a hearth on the floor in the middle of a +deep alcove to the Right. There are benches in the alcove +and a table; and a crucifix on the wall. The alcove is +full of a glow of light from the fire. There is an open door +facing the audience to the Left, and to the left of this a +bench. Through the door one can see the forest. It is +night, but the moon or a late sunset glimmers through the +trees and carries the eye far off into a vague, mysterious +world.</i> <span class="smcap">MAURTEEN BRUIN</span>, <span class="smcap">SHAWN BRUIN</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">BRIDGET +BRUIN</span> <i>sit in the alcove at the table or about the fire. They +are dressed in the costume of some remote time, and near +them sits an old priest</i>, <span class="smcap">FATHER HART</span>. <i>He may be dressed +as a friar. There is food and drink upon the table</i>. +<span class="smcap">MARY BRUIN</span> <i>stands by the door reading a book. If she +looks up she can see through the door into the wood.</i></p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">Because I bid her clean the pots for supper<br /> +She took that old book down out of the thatch;<br /> +She has been doubled over it ever since.<br /> +We should be deafened by her groans and moans<br /> +Had she to work as some do, Father Hart;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span>Get up at dawn like me and mend and scour<br /> +Or ride abroad in the boisterous night like you,<br /> +The pyx and blessed bread under your arm.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Mother, you are too cross.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">You've married her,</span><br /> +And fear to vex her and so take her part.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">FATHER HART</span>)</p> + +<p class="speech">It is but right that youth should side with youth;<br /> +She quarrels with my wife a bit at times,<br /> +And is too deep just now in the old book!<br /> +But do not blame her greatly; she will grow<br /> +As quiet as a puff-ball in a tree<br /> +When but the moons of marriage dawn and die<br /> +For half a score of times.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Their hearts are wild,</span><br /> +As be the hearts of birds, till children come.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">She would not mind the kettle, milk the cow,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span>Or even lay the knives and spread the cloth.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Mother, if only——</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">Shawn, this is half empty;</span><br /> +Go, bring up the best bottle that we have.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">I never saw her read a book before,<br /> +What can it be?</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">SHAWN</span>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9em;">What are you waiting for?</span><br /> +You must not shake it when you draw the cork;<br /> +It's precious wine, so take your time about it.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>To Priest.</i>) (<span class="smcap">SHAWN</span> <i>goes</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">There was a Spaniard wrecked at Ocris Head,<br /> +When I was young, and I have still some bottles.<br /> +He cannot bear to hear her blamed; the book<br /> +Has lain up in the thatch these fifty years;<br /> +My father told me my grandfather wrote it,<br /> +And killed a heifer for the binding of it—<br /> +But supper's spread, and we can talk and eat<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span>It was little good he got out of the book,<br /> +Because it filled his house with rambling fiddlers,<br /> +And rambling ballad-makers and the like.<br /> +The griddle-bread is there in front of you.<br /> +Colleen, what is the wonder in that book,<br /> +That you must leave the bread to cool? Had I<br /> +Or had my father read or written books<br /> +There were no stocking stuffed with yellow guineas<br /> +To come when I am dead to Shawn and you.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">You should not fill your head with foolish dreams.<br /> +What are you reading?</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">How a Princess Edane,</span><br /> +A daughter of a King of Ireland, heard<br /> +A voice singing on a May Eve like this,<br /> +And followed half awake and half asleep,<br /> +Until she came into the Land of Faery,<br /> +Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,<br /> +Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,<br /> +Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue.<br /> +And she is still there, busied with a dance<br /> +Deep in the dewy shadow of a wood,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span>Or where stars walk upon a mountain-top.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Persuade the colleen to put down the book;<br /> +My grandfather would mutter just such things,<br /> +And he was no judge of a dog or a horse,<br /> +And any idle boy could blarney him;<br /> +Just speak your mind.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">Put it away, my colleen;</span><br /> +God spreads the heavens above us like great wings<br /> +And gives a little round of deeds and days,<br /> +And then come the wrecked angels and set snares,<br /> +And bait them with light hopes and heavy dreams,<br /> +Until the heart is puffed with pride and goes<br /> +Half shuddering and half joyous from God's peace;<br /> +And it was some wrecked angel, blind with tears,<br /> +Who flattered Edane's heart with merry words.<br /> +My colleen, I have seen some other girls<br /> +Restless and ill at ease, but years went by<br /> +And they grew like their neighbours and were glad<br /> +In minding children, working at the churn,<br /> +And gossiping of weddings and of wakes;<br /> +For life moves out of a red flare of dreams<br /> +Into a common light of common hours,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span>Until old age bring the red flare again.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">That's true—but she's too young to know it's true.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">She's old enough to know that it is wrong<br /> +To mope and idle.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">I've little blame for her;</span><br /> +She's dull when my big son is in the fields,<br /> +And that and maybe this good woman's tongue<br /> +Have driven her to hide among her dreams<br /> +Like children from the dark under the bed-clothes.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">She'd never do a turn if I were silent.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">And maybe it is natural upon May Eve<br /> +To dream of the good people. But tell me, girl,<br /> +If you've the branch of blessed quicken wood<br /> +That women hang upon the post of the door<br /> +That they may send good luck into the house?<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span>Remember they may steal new-married brides<br /> +After the fall of twilight on May Eve,<br /> +Or what old women mutter at the fire<br /> +Is but a pack of lies.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">It may be truth.</span><br /> +We do not know the limit of those powers<br /> +God has permitted to the evil spirits<br /> +For some mysterious end. You have done right (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">MARY</span>);<br /> +It's well to keep old innocent customs up.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">MARY BRUIN</span> <i>has taken a bough of quicken wood +from a seat and hung it on a nail in the door-post. +A girl child strangely dressed, perhaps +in faery green, comes out of the wood and +takes it away</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I had no sooner hung it on the nail<br /> +Before a child ran up out of the wind;<br /> +She has caught it in her hand and fondled it;<br /> +Her face is pale as water before dawn.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span>Whose child can this be?</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">No one's child at all.</span><br /> +She often dreams that some one has gone by,<br /> +When there was nothing but a puff of wind.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">They have taken away the blessed quicken wood,<br /> +They will not bring good luck into the house;<br /> +Yet I am glad that I was courteous to them,<br /> +For are not they, likewise, children of God?</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">Colleen, they are the children of the fiend,<br /> +And they have power until the end of Time,<br /> +When God shall fight with them a great pitched battle<br /> +And hack them into pieces.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">He will smile,</span><br /> +Father, perhaps, and open His great door.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span>Did but the lawless angels see that door<br /> +They would fall, slain by everlasting peace;<br /> +And when such angels knock upon our doors,<br /> +Who goes with them must drive through the same storm.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A thin old arm comes round the door-post and +knocks and beckons. It is clearly seen in +the silvery light.</i> <span class="smcap">MARY BRUIN</span> <i>goes to door +and stands in it for a moment</i>. <span class="smcap">MAURTEEN +BRUIN</span> <i>is busy filling</i> <span class="smcap">FATHER HART'S</span> <i>plate</i>. +<span class="smcap">BRIDGET BRUIN</span> <i>stirs the fire</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY (<i>coming to table</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">There's somebody out there that beckoned me<br /> +And raised her hand as though it held a cup,<br /> +And she was drinking from it, so it may be<br /> +That she is thirsty.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She takes milk from the table and carries it to +the door.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">That will be the child</span><br /> +That you would have it was no child at all.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span>And maybe, Father, what he said was true;<br /> +For there is not another night in the year<br /> +So wicked as to-night.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">Nothing can harm us</span><br /> +While the good Father's underneath our roof.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">A little queer old woman dressed in green.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">The good people beg for milk and fire<br /> +Upon May Eve—woe to the house that gives,<br /> +For they have power upon it for a year.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Hush, woman, hush!</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">She's given milk away.</span><br /> +I knew she would bring evil on the house.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span>Who was it?</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 7em;">Both the tongue and face were strange.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Some strangers came last week to Clover Hill;<br /> +She must be one of them.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">I am afraid.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">The Cross will keep all evil from the house<br /> +While it hangs there.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">Come, sit beside me, colleen,</span><br /> +And put away your dreams of discontent,<br /> +For I would have you light up my last days,<br /> +Like the good glow of the turf; and when I die<br /> +You'll be the wealthiest hereabout, for, colleen,<br /> +I have a stocking full of yellow guineas<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span>Hidden away where nobody can find it.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">You are the fool of every pretty face,<br /> +And I must spare and pinch that my son's wife<br /> +May have all kinds of ribbons for her head.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Do not be cross; she is a right good girl!<br /> +The butter is by your elbow, Father Hart.<br /> +My colleen, have not Fate and Time and Change<br /> +Done well for me and for old Bridget there?<br /> +We have a hundred acres of good land,<br /> +And sit beside each other at the fire.<br /> +I have this reverend Father for my friend,<br /> +I look upon your face and my son's face—<br /> +We've put his plate by yours—and here he comes,<br /> +And brings with him the only thing we have lacked,<br /> +Abundance of good wine. (<span class="smcap">SHAWN</span> <i>comes in</i>.) Stir up the fire,<br /> +And put new turf upon it till it blaze;<br /> +To watch the turf-smoke coiling from the fire,<br /> +And feel content and wisdom in your heart,<br /> +This is the best of life; when we are young<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span>We long to tread a way none trod before,<br /> +But find the excellent old way through love,<br /> +And through the care of children, to the hour<br /> +For bidding Fate and Time and Change goodbye.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">MARY</span> <i>takes a sod of turf from the fire and goes +out through the door</i>. <span class="smcap">SHAWN</span> <i>follows her +and meets her coming in</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">What is it draws you to the chill o' the wood?<br /> +There is a light among the stems of the trees<br /> +That makes one shiver.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">A little queer old man</span><br /> +Made me a sign to show he wanted fire<br /> +To light his pipe.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">You've given milk and fire</span><br /> +Upon the unluckiest night of the year and brought,<br /> +For all you know, evil upon the house.<br /> +Before you married you were idle and fine<br /> +And went about with ribbons on your head;<br /> +And now—no, Father, I will speak my mind—<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span>She is not a fitting wife for any man——</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Be quiet, Mother!</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">You are much too cross.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">What do I care if I have given this house,<br /> +Where I must hear all day a bitter tongue,<br /> +Into the power of faeries!</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">You know well</span><br /> +How calling the good people by that name,<br /> +Or talking of them over much at all,<br /> +May bring all kinds of evil on the house.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Come, faeries, take me out of this dull house!<br /> +Let me have all the freedom I have lost;<br /> +Work when I will and idle when I will!<br /> +Faeries, come take me out of this dull world,<br /> +For I would ride with you upon the wind.<br /> +Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span>And dance upon the mountains like a flame.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">You cannot know the meaning of your words.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Father, I am right weary of four tongues:<br /> +A tongue that is too crafty and too wise,<br /> +A tongue that is too godly and too grave,<br /> +A tongue that is more bitter than the tide,<br /> +And a kind tongue too full of drowsy love,<br /> +Of drowsy love and my captivity.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">SHAWN BRUIN</span> <i>leads her to a seat at the left of +the door</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Do not blame me; I often lie awake<br /> +Thinking that all things trouble your bright head.<br /> +How beautiful it is—your broad pale forehead<br /> +Under a cloudy blossoming of hair!<br /> +Sit down beside me here—these are too old,<br /> +And have forgotten they were ever young.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">O, you are the great door-post of this house,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span>And I the branch of blessed quicken wood,<br /> +And if I could I'd hang upon the post,<br /> +Till I had brought good luck into the house.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She would put her arms about him, but looks +shyly at the priest and lets her arms fall.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">My daughter, take his hand—by love alone<br /> +God binds us to Himself and to the hearth,<br /> +That shuts us from the waste beyond His peace,<br /> +From maddening freedom and bewildering light.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Would that the world were mine to give it you,<br /> +And not its quiet hearths alone, but even<br /> +All that bewilderment of light and freedom,<br /> +If you would have it.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">I would take the world</span><br /> +And break it into pieces in my hands<br /> +To see you smile watching it crumble away.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Then I would mould a world of fire and dew,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span>With no one bitter, grave or over wise,<br /> +And nothing marred or old to do you wrong,<br /> +And crowd the enraptured quiet of the sky<br /> +With candles burning to your lonely face.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Your looks are all the candles that I need.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Once a fly dancing in a beam of the sun,<br /> +Or the light wind blowing out of the dawn,<br /> +Could fill your heart with dreams none other knew,<br /> +But now the indissoluble sacrament<br /> +Has mixed your heart that was most proud and cold<br /> +With my warm heart for ever; the sun and moon<br /> +Must fade and heaven be rolled up like a scroll;<br /> +But your white spirit still walk by my spirit.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A Voice singing in the wood.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">There's some one singing. Why, it's but a child.<br /> +It sang, "The lonely of heart is withered away."<br /> +A strange song for a child, but she sings sweetly.<br /> +Listen, listen!</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Goes to door.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">O, cling close to me,</span><br /> +Because I have said wicked things to-night.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE VOICE</p> + +<p class="speech">The wind blows out of the gates of the day,<br /> +The wind blows over the lonely of heart,<br /> +And the lonely of heart is withered away.<br /> +While the faeries dance in a place apart,<br /> +Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring,<br /> +Tossing their milk-white arms in the air;<br /> +For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing<br /> +Of a land where even the old are fair,<br /> +And even the wise are merry of tongue;<br /> +But I heard a reed of Coolaney say,<br /> +"When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung<br /> +The lonely of heart is withered away!"</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Being happy, I would have all others happy,<br /> +So I will bring her in out of the cold.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He brings in the faery child.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span>I tire of winds and waters and pale lights.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">And that's no wonder, for when night has fallen<br /> +The wood's a cold and a bewildering place,<br /> +But you are welcome here.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">I am welcome here.</span><br /> +For when I tire of this warm little house<br /> +There is one here that must away, away.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">O, listen to her dreamy and strange talk.<br /> +Are you not cold?</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">I will crouch down beside you,</span><br /> +For I have run a long, long way this night.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">You have a comely shape.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span><span style="margin-left: 13em;">Your hair is wet.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">I'll warm your chilly feet.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">You have come indeed</span><br /> +A long, long way—for I have never seen<br /> +Your pretty face—and must be tired and hungry,<br /> +Here is some bread and wine.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">The wine is bitter.</span><br /> +Old mother, have you no sweet food for me?</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">I have some honey.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She goes into the next room.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">You have coaxing ways,</span><br /> +The mother was quite cross before you came.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">BRIDGET</span> <i>returns with the honey and fills a porringer with milk</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">She is the child of gentle people; look<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span>At her white hands and at her pretty dress.<br /> +I've brought you some new milk, but wait a while<br /> +And I will put it to the fire to warm,<br /> +For things well fitted for poor folk like us<br /> +Would never please a high-born child like you.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">From dawn, when you must blow the fire ablaze,<br /> +You work your fingers to the bone, old mother.<br /> +The young may lie in bed and dream and hope,<br /> +But you must work your fingers to the bone<br /> +Because your heart is old.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">The young are idle.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Your memories have made you wise, old father;<br /> +The young must sigh through many a dream and hope,<br /> +But you are wise because your heart is old.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">BRIDGET</span> <i>gives her more bread and honey</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">O, who would think to find so young a girl<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span>Loving old age and wisdom?</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">No more, mother.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">What a small bite! The milk is ready now. (<i>Hands it to her.</i>) What a small sip!</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">Put on my shoes, old mother.</span><br /> +Now I would like to dance now I have eaten,<br /> +The reeds are dancing by Coolaney lake,<br /> +And I would like to dance until the reeds<br /> +And the white waves have danced themselves asleep.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">BRIDGET</span> <i>puts on the shoes, and the</i> <span class="smcap">CHILD</span> <i>is about +to dance, but suddenly sees the crucifix and +shrieks and covers her eyes</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">What is that ugly thing on the black cross?</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">You cannot know how naughty your words are!<br /> +That is our Blessed Lord.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span><span style="margin-left: 13em;">Hide it away!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">I have begun to be afraid again.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16em;">Hide it away!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">That would be wickedness!</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">That would be sacrilege!</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">The tortured thing!</span><br /> +Hide it away!</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 7em;">Her parents are to blame.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">That is the image of the Son of God.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD (<i>caressing him</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span>Hide it away, hide it away!</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">No, no.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">Because you are so young and like a bird,<br /> +That must take fright at every stir of the leaves,<br /> +I will go take it down.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">Hide it away!</span><br /> +And cover it out of sight and out of mind!</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">FATHER HART</span> <i>takes crucifix from wall and +carries it towards inner room</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">Since you have come into this barony,<br /> +I will instruct you in our blessed faith;<br /> +And being so keen witted you'll soon learn.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>To the others.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">We must be tender to all budding things,<br /> +Our Maker let no thought of Calvary<br /> +Trouble the morning stars in their first song.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Puts crucifix in inner room.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Here is level ground for dancing; I will dance.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Sings.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">"The wind blows out of the gates of the day,<br /> +The wind blows over the lonely of heart,<br /> +And the lonely of heart is withered away."</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She dances.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">SHAWN</span>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Just now when she came near I thought I heard<br /> +Other small steps beating upon the floor,<br /> +And a faint music blowing in the wind,<br /> +Invisible pipes giving her feet the tune.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">I heard no steps but hers.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">I hear them now,</span><br /> +The unholy powers are dancing in the house.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Come over here, and if you promise me<br /> +Not to talk wickedly of holy things<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span>I will give you something.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">Bring it me, old father.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Here are some ribbons that I bought in the town<br /> +For my son's wife—but she will let me give them<br /> +To tie up that wild hair the winds have tumbled.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Come, tell me, do you love me?</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16em;">Yes, I love you.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Ah, but you love this fireside. Do you love me?</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">When the Almighty puts so great a share<br /> +Of His own ageless youth into a creature,<br /> +To look is but to love.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span><span style="margin-left: 12em;">But you love Him?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">She is blaspheming.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">And do you love me too?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I do not know.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 8em;">You love that young man there,</span><br /> +Yet I could make you ride upon the winds,<br /> +Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,<br /> +And dance upon the mountains like a flame.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Queen of Angels and kind saints defend us!<br /> +Some dreadful thing will happen. A while ago<br /> +She took away the blessed quicken wood.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">You fear because of her unmeasured prattle;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span>She knows no better. Child, how old are you?</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">When winter sleep is abroad my hair grows thin,<br /> +My feet unsteady. When the leaves awaken<br /> +My mother carries me in her golden arms;<br /> +I'll soon put on my womanhood and marry<br /> +The spirits of wood and water, but who can tell<br /> +When I was born for the first time? I think<br /> +I am much older than the eagle cock<br /> +That blinks and blinks on Ballygawley Hill,<br /> +And he is the oldest thing under the moon.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">O she is of the faery people.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">One called,</span><br /> +I sent my messengers for milk and fire,<br /> +She called again and after that I came.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>All except</i> <span class="smcap">SHAWN</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">MARY BRUIN</span> <i>gather +behind the priest for protection</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN (<i>rising</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Though you have made all these obedient,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span>You have not charmed my sight and won from me<br /> +A wish or gift to make you powerful;<br /> +I'll turn you from the house.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">No, I will face her.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Because you took away the crucifix<br /> +I am so mighty that there's none can pass,<br /> +Unless I will it, where my feet have danced<br /> +Or where I've whirled my finger-tops.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">SHAWN</span> <i>tries to approach her and cannot</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 19em;">Look, look!</span><br /> +There something stops him—look how he moves his hands<br /> +As though he rubbed them on a wall of glass!</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">I will confront this mighty spirit alone;<br /> +Be not afraid, the Father is with us,<br /> +The Holy Martyrs and the Innocents,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span>The adoring Magi in their coats of mail,<br /> +And He who died and rose on the third day,<br /> +And all the nine angelic hierarchies.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">CHILD</span> <i>kneels upon the settle beside</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>and +puts her arms about her</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">Cry, daughter, to the Angels and the Saints.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">You shall go with me, newly-married bride,<br /> +And gaze upon a merrier multitude.<br /> +White-armed Nuala, Aengus of the Birds,<br /> +Feacra of the hurtling foam, and him<br /> +Who is the ruler of the Western Host,<br /> +Finvarra, and their Land of Heart's Desire,<br /> +Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood,<br /> +But joy is wisdom, Time an endless song.<br /> +I kiss you and the world begins to fade.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Awake out of that trance—and cover up<br /> +Your eyes and ears.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">She must both look and listen,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span>For only the soul's choice can save her now.<br /> +Come over to me, daughter; stand beside me;<br /> +Think of this house and of your duties in it.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Stay and come with me, newly-married bride,<br /> +For if you hear him you grow like the rest;<br /> +Bear children, cook, and bend above the churn,<br /> +And wrangle over butter, fowl, and eggs,<br /> +Until at last, grown old and bitter of tongue,<br /> +You're crouching there and shivering at the grave.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">Daughter, I point you out the way to Heaven.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">But I can lead you, newly-married bride,<br /> +Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,<br /> +Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,<br /> +Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue,<br /> +And where kind tongues bring no captivity;<br /> +For we are but obedient to the thoughts<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span>That drift into the mind at a wink of the eye.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">By the dear Name of the One crucified,<br /> +I bid you, Mary Bruin, come to me.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">I keep you in the name of your own heart.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">It is because I put away the crucifix<br /> +That I am nothing, and my power is nothing.<br /> +I'll bring it here again.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN (<i>clinging to him</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">No.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Do not leave us.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">O, let me go before it is too late;<br /> +It is my sin alone that brought it all.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Singing outside.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">I hear them sing, "Come, newly-married bride,<br /> +Come, to the woods and waters and pale lights."</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I will go with you.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">She is lost, alas!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD (<i>standing by the door</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">But clinging mortal hope must fall from you,<br /> +For we who ride the winds, run on the waves,<br /> +And dance upon the mountains are more light<br /> +Than dewdrops on the banner of the dawn.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">O, take me with you.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">Beloved, I will keep you.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span>I've more than words, I have these arms to hold you,<br /> +Nor all the faery host, do what they please,<br /> +Shall ever make me loosen you from these arms.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Dear face! Dear voice!</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">Come, newly-married bride.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I always loved her world—and yet—and yet——</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">White bird, white bird, come with me, little bird.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">She calls me!</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 7em;">Come with me, little bird.</span></p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Distant dancing figures appear in the wood.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I can hear songs and dancing.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Stay with me.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I think that I would stay—and yet—and yet——</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Come, little bird, with crest of gold.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY (<i>very softly</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 19em;">And yet——</span></p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Come, little bird with silver feet!</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">MARY BRUIN</span> <i>dies, and the</i> <span class="smcap">CHILD</span> <i>goes</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span><span style="margin-left: 18em;">She is dead!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">Come from that image; body and soul are gone.<br /> +You have thrown your arms about a drift of leaves,<br /> +Or bole of an ash-tree changed into her image.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">Thus do the spirits of evil snatch their prey,<br /> +Almost out of the very hand of God;<br /> +And day by day their power is more and more,<br /> +And men and women leave old paths, for pride<br /> +Comes knocking with thin knuckles on the heart.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Outside there are dancing figures, and it may be a +white bird, and many voices singing</i>:)</p> + +<p class="speech">"The wind blows out of the gates of the day,<br /> +The wind blows over the lonely of heart,<br /> +And the lonely of heart is withered away;<br /> +While the faeries dance in a place apart,<br /> +Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring,<br /> +Tossing their milk-white arms in the air;<br /> +For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing<br /> +Of a land where even the old are fair,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span>And even the wise are merry of tongue;<br /> +But I heard a reed of Coolaney say—<br /> +'When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung,<br /> +The lonely of heart is withered away.'"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="CROSSWAYS" id="CROSSWAYS"></a>CROSSWAYS</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span></p> +<p class="center p6"> +<i>"The stars are threshed, and the souls are threshed from their husks."</i></p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">William Blake.</span></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span></p> + +<p class="center p6">To A.E.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span></p> + + +<h3 class="p6"><a name="THE_SONG_OF_THE_HAPPY_SHEPHERD" id="THE_SONG_OF_THE_HAPPY_SHEPHERD"></a>THE SONG OF THE HAPPY +SHEPHERD</h3> + + +<p> +The woods of Arcady are dead,<br /> +And over is their antique joy;<br /> +Of old the world on dreaming fed;<br /> +Gray Truth is now her painted toy;<br /> +Yet still she turns her restless head:<br /> +But O, sick children of the world,<br /> +Of all the many changing things<br /> +In dreary dancing past us whirled,<br /> +To the cracked tune that Chronos sings,<br /> +Words alone are certain good.<br /> +Where are now the warring kings,<br /> +Word be-mockers?—By the Rood<br /> +Where are now the warring kings?<br /> +An idle word is now their glory,<br /> +By the stammering schoolboy said,<br /> +Reading some entangled story:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span>The kings of the old time are fled<br /> +The wandering earth herself may be<br /> +Only a sudden flaming word,<br /> +In clanging space a moment heard,<br /> +Troubling the endless reverie.<br /> +<br /> +Then nowise worship dusty deeds,<br /> +Nor seek; for this is also sooth;<br /> +To hunger fiercely after truth,<br /> +Lest all thy toiling only breeds<br /> +New dreams, new dreams; there is no truth<br /> +Saving in thine own heart. Seek, then,<br /> +No learning from the starry men,<br /> +Who follow with the optic glass<br /> +The whirling ways of stars that pass—<br /> +Seek, then, for this is also sooth,<br /> +No word of theirs—the cold star-bane<br /> +Has cloven and rent their hearts in twain,<br /> +And dead is all their human truth.<br /> +Go gather by the humming-sea<br /> +Some twisted, echo-harbouring shell,<br /> +And to its lips thy story tell,<br /> +And they thy comforters will be,<br /> +Rewarding in melodious guile,<br /> +Thy fretful words a little while,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span>Till they shall singing fade in ruth,<br /> +And die a pearly brotherhood;<br /> +For words alone are certain good:<br /> +Sing, then, for this is also sooth.<br /> +<br /> +I must be gone: there is a grave<br /> +Where daffodil and lily wave,<br /> +And I would please the hapless faun,<br /> +Buried under the sleepy ground,<br /> +With mirthful songs before the dawn.<br /> +His shouting days with mirth were crowned;<br /> +And still I dream he treads the lawn,<br /> +Walking ghostly in the dew,<br /> +Pierced by my glad singing through,<br /> +My songs of old earth's dreamy youth:<br /> +But ah! she dreams not now; dream thou!<br /> +For fair are poppies on the brow:<br /> +Dream, dream, for this is also sooth.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_SAD_SHEPHERD" id="THE_SAD_SHEPHERD"></a>THE SAD SHEPHERD</h3> + + +<p> +There was a man whom Sorrow named his friend,<br /> +And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming,<br /> +Went walking with slow steps along the gleaming<br /> +And humming sands, where windy surges wend:<br /> +And he called loudly to the stars to bend<br /> +From their pale thrones and comfort him, but they<br /> +Among themselves laugh on and sing alway:<br /> +And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend<br /> +Cried out, <i>Dim sea, hear my most piteous story!</i><br /> +The sea swept on and cried her old cry still,<br /> +Rolling along in dreams from hill to hill;<br /> +He fled the persecution of her glory<br /> +And, in a far-off, gentle valley stopping,<br /> +Cried all his story to the dewdrops glistening,<br /> +But naught they heard, for they are always listening,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span>The dewdrops, for the sound of their own dropping.<br /> +And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend,<br /> +Sought once again the shore, and found a shell,<br /> +And thought, <i>I will my heavy story tell<br /> +Till my own words, re-echoing, shall send<br /> +Their sadness through a hollow, pearly heart;<br /> +And my own tale again for me shall sing,<br /> +And my own whispering words be comforting,<br /> +And lo! my ancient burden may depart</i>.<br /> +Then he sang softly nigh the pearly rim;<br /> +But the sad dweller by the sea-ways lone<br /> +Changed all he sang to inarticulate moan<br /> +Among her wildering whirls, forgetting him.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_CLOAK_THE_BOAT_AND_THE_SHOES" id="THE_CLOAK_THE_BOAT_AND_THE_SHOES"></a>THE CLOAK, THE BOAT, AND THE +SHOES</h3> + + +<p> +"What do you make so fair and bright?"<br /> +<br /> +"I make the cloak of Sorrow:<br /> +"O, lovely to see in all men's sight<br /> +"Shall be the cloak of Sorrow,<br /> +"In all men's sight."<br /> +<br /> +"What do you build with sails for flight?"<br /> +<br /> +"I build a boat for Sorrow,<br /> +"O, swift on the seas all day and night<br /> +"Saileth the rover Sorrow,<br /> +"All day and night."<br /> +<br /> +"What do you weave with wool so white?<br /> +<br /> +"I weave the shoes of Sorrow,<br /> +"Soundless shall be the footfall light<br /> +"In all men's ears of Sorrow,<br /> +"Sudden and light."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="ANASHUYA_AND_VIJAYA" id="ANASHUYA_AND_VIJAYA"></a>ANASHUYA AND VIJAYA</h3> + + +<p class="exposition"><i>A little Indian temple in the Golden Age. Around it a +garden; around that the forest.</i> <span class="smcap">ANASHUYA</span>, <i>the young +priestess, kneeling within the temple</i>.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA</p> + +<p class="speech">Send peace on all the lands and flickering corn.—<br /> +O, may tranquillity walk by his elbow<br /> +When wandering in the forest, if he love<br /> +No other.—Hear, and may the indolent flocks<br /> +Be plentiful.—And if he love another,<br /> +May panthers end him.—Hear, and load our king<br /> +With wisdom hour by hour.—May we two stand,<br /> +When we are dead, beyond the setting suns,<br /> +A little from the other shades apart,<br /> +With mingling hair, and play upon one lute.</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA [<i>entering and throwing a lily at her</i>]</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span>Hail! hail, my Anashuya.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">No: be still.</span><br /> +I, priestess of this temple, offer up<br /> +Prayers for the land.</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">I will wait here, Amrita.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA</p> + +<p class="speech">By mighty Brahma's ever rustling robe,<br /> +Who is Amrita? Sorrow of all sorrows!<br /> +Another fills your mind.</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">My mother's name.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA [<i>sings, coming out of the temple</i>]</p> + +<p class="speech"><i>A sad, sad thought went by me slowly:<br /> +Sigh, O you little stars! O, sigh and shake your blue apparel!<br /> +The sad, sad thought has gone from me now wholly:<br /> +Sing, O you little stars! O, sing and raise your rapturous carol<br /> +To mighty Brahma, he who made you many as the sands,<br /> +And laid you on the gates of evening with his quiet hands.</i></p> + +<p class="direction">[<i>Sits down on the steps of the temple.</i>]</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span></p> + +<p class="speech">Vijaya, I have brought my evening rice;<br /> +The sun has laid his chin on the gray wood,<br /> +Weary, with all his poppies gathered round him.</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA</p> + +<p class="speech">The hour when Kama, full of sleepy laughter,<br /> +Rises, and showers abroad his fragrant arrows,<br /> +Piercing the twilight with their murmuring barbs.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA</p> + +<p class="speech">See how the sacred old flamingoes come,<br /> +Painting with shadow all the marble steps:<br /> +Aged and wise, they seek their wonted perches<br /> +Within the temple, devious walking, made<br /> +To wander by their melancholy minds.<br /> +Yon tall one eyes my supper; swiftly chase him<br /> +Far, far away. I named him after you.<br /> +He is a famous fisher; hour by hour<br /> +He ruffles with his bill the minnowed streams.<br /> +Ah! there he snaps my rice. I told you so.<br /> +Now cuff him off. He's off! A kiss for you,<br /> +Because you saved my rice. Have you no thanks?</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA [<i>sings</i>]</p> + +<p class="speech"><i>Sing you of her, O first few stars,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span>Whom Brahma, touching with his finger, praises, for you hold</i><br /> +<i>The van of wandering quiet; ere you be too calm and old,<br /> +Sing, turning in your cars,<br /> +Sing, till you raise your hands and sigh, and from your car heads peer,<br /> +With all your whirling hair, and drop many an azure tear.</i></p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA</p> + +<p class="speech">What know the pilots of the stars of tears?</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA</p> + +<p class="speech">Their faces are all worn, and in their eyes<br /> +Flashes the fire of sadness, for they see<br /> +The icicles that famish all the north,<br /> +Where men lie frozen in the glimmering snow;<br /> +And in the flaming forests cower the lion<br /> +And lioness, with all their whimpering cubs;<br /> +And, ever pacing on the verge of things,<br /> +The phantom, Beauty, in a mist of tears;<br /> +While we alone have round us woven woods,<br /> +And feel the softness of each other's hand,<br /> +Amrita, while——</p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA [<i>going away from him</i>]</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9em;">Ah me, you love another,</span></p> + +<p class="direction">[<i>Bursting into tears.</i>]</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span>And may some dreadful ill befall her quick!</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA</p> + +<p class="speech">I loved another; now I love no other.<br /> +Among the mouldering of ancient woods<br /> +You live, and on the village border she,<br /> +With her old father the blind wood-cutter;<br /> +I saw her standing in her door but now.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA</p> + +<p class="speech">Vijaya, swear to love her never more,</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA</p> + +<p class="speech">Ay, ay.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Swear by the parents of the gods,</span><br /> +Dread oath, who dwell on sacred Himalay,<br /> +On the far Golden Peak; enormous shapes,<br /> +Who still were old when the great sea was young<br /> +On their vast faces mystery and dreams;<br /> +Their hair along the mountains rolled and filled<br /> +From year to year by the unnumbered nests<br /> +Of aweless birds, and round their stirless feet<br /> +The joyous flocks of deer and antelope,<br /> +Who never hear the unforgiving hound.<br /> +Swear!</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">By the parents of the gods, I swear.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA [<i>sings</i>]</p> + +<p class="speech"><i>I have forgiven, O new star!<br /> +Maybe you have not heard of us, you have come forth so newly,<br /> +You hunter of the fields afar!<br /> +Ah, you will know my loved one by his hunter's arrows truly,<br /> +Shoot on him shafts of quietness, that he may ever keep<br /> +An inner laughter, and may kiss his hands to me in sleep.</i><br /> +<br /> +Farewell, Vijaya. Nay, no word, no word;<br /> +I, priestess of this temple, offer up<br /> +Prayers for the land.</p> + +<p class="direction">[<span class="smcap">VIJAYA</span> <i>goes</i>.]</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">O Brahma, guard in sleep</span><br /> +The merry lambs and the complacent kine,<br /> +The flies below the leaves, and the young mice<br /> +In the tree roots, and all the sacred flocks<br /> +Of red flamingo; and my love, Vijaya;<br /> +And may no restless fay with fidget finger<br /> +Trouble his sleeping: give him dreams of me.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_INDIAN_UPON_GOD" id="THE_INDIAN_UPON_GOD"></a>THE INDIAN UPON GOD</h3> + + +<p> +I passed along the water's edge below the humid trees,<br /> +My spirit rocked in evening light, the rushes round my knees,<br /> +My spirit rocked in sleep and sighs; and saw the moorfowl pace<br /> +All dripping on a grassy slope, and saw them cease to chase<br /> +Each other round in circles, and heard the eldest speak:<br /> +<i>Who holds the world between His bill and made us strong or weak<br /> +Is an undying moorfowl, and He lives beyond the sky.<br /> +The rains are from His dripping wing, the moonbeams from His eye.</i><br /> +I passed a little further on and heard a lotus talk:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span><i>Who made the world and ruleth it, He hangeth on a stalk,</i><br /> +<i>For I am in His image made, and all this tinkling tide<br /> +Is but a sliding drop of rain between His petals wide.</i><br /> +A little way within the gloom a roebuck raised his eyes<br /> +Brimful of starlight, and he said: <i>The Stamper of the Skies,<br /> +He is a gentle roebuck; for how else, I pray, could He<br /> +Conceive a thing so sad and soft, a gentle thing like me?</i><br /> +I passed a little further on and heard a peacock say:<br /> +<i>Who made the grass and made the worms and made my feathers gay,<br /> +He is a monstrous peacock, and He waveth all the night<br /> +His languid tail above us, lit with myriad spots of light.</i></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_INDIAN_TO_HIS_LOVE" id="THE_INDIAN_TO_HIS_LOVE"></a>THE INDIAN TO HIS LOVE</h3> + + +<p> +The island dreams under the dawn<br /> +And great boughs drop tranquillity;<br /> +The peahens dance on a smooth lawn,<br /> +A parrot sways upon a tree,<br /> +Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea.<br /> +<br /> +Here we will moor our lonely ship<br /> +And wander ever with woven hands,<br /> +Murmuring softly lip to lip,<br /> +Along the grass, along the sands,<br /> +Murmuring how far away are the unquiet lands:<br /> +<br /> +How we alone of mortals are<br /> +Hid under quiet bows apart,<br /> +While our love grows an Indian star,<br /> +A meteor of the burning heart,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span>One +with the tide that gleams, the wings that gleam and dart,<br /> +<br /> +The heavy boughs, the burnished dove<br /> +That moans and sighs a hundred days:<br /> +How when we die our shades will rove,<br /> +When eve has hushed the feathered ways,<br /> +With vapoury footsole among the water's drowsy blaze.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_FALLING_OF_THE_LEAVES" id="THE_FALLING_OF_THE_LEAVES"></a>THE FALLING OF THE LEAVES</h3> + + +<p> +Autumn is over the long leaves that love us,<br /> +And over the mice in the barley sheaves;<br /> +Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us,<br /> +And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves.<br /> +<br /> +The hour of the waning of love has beset us,<br /> +And weary and worn are our sad souls now;<br /> +Let us part, ere the season of passion forget us,<br /> +With a kiss and a tear on thy drooping brow.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="EPHEMERA" id="EPHEMERA"></a>EPHEMERA</h3> + + +<p> +"Your eyes that once were never weary of mine<br /> +"Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids,<br /> +"Because our love is waning."<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">And then she:</span><br /> +"Although our love is waning, let us stand<br /> +"By the lone border of the lake once more,<br /> +"Together in that hour of gentleness<br /> +"When the poor tired child, Passion, falls asleep:<br /> +"How far away the stars seem, and how far<br /> +"Is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart!"<br /> +<br /> +Pensive they paced along the faded leaves,<br /> +While slowly he whose hand held hers replied:<br /> +"Passion has often worn our wandering hearts."<br /> +<br /> +The woods were round them, and the yellow leaves<br /> +Fell like faint meteors in the gloom, and once<br /> +A rabbit old and lame limped down the path;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span>Autumn was over him: and now they stood<br /> +On the lone border of the lake once more:<br /> +Turning, he saw that she had thrust dead leaves<br /> +Gathered in silence, dewy as her eyes,<br /> +In bosom and hair.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">"Ah, do not mourn," he said,</span><br /> +"That we are tired, for other loves await us;<br /> +"Hate on and love through unrepining hours.<br /> +"Before us lies eternity; our souls<br /> +"Are love, and a continual farewell."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_MADNESS_OF_KING_GOLL" id="THE_MADNESS_OF_KING_GOLL"></a>THE MADNESS OF KING GOLL</h3> + + +<p> +I sat on cushioned otter skin:<br /> +My word was law from Ith to Emen,<br /> +And shook at Invar Amargin<br /> +The hearts of the world-troubling seamen.<br /> +And drove tumult and war away<br /> +From girl and boy and man and beast;<br /> +The fields grew fatter day by day,<br /> +The wild fowl of the air increased;<br /> +And every ancient Ollave said,<br /> +While he bent down his fading head,<br /> +"He drives away the Northern cold."<br /> +<i>They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.</i><br /> +<br /> +I sat and mused and drank sweet wine;<br /> +A herdsman came from inland valleys,<br /> +Crying, the pirates drove his swine<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span>To fill their dark-beaked hollow galleys.<br /> +I called my battle-breaking men,<br /> +And my loud brazen battle-cars<br /> +From rolling vale and rivery glen,<br /> +And under the blinking of the stars<br /> +Fell on the pirates by the deep,<br /> +And hurled them in the gulph of sleep:<br /> +These hands won many a torque of gold.<br /> +<i>They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.</i><br /> +<br /> +But slowly, as I shouting slew<br /> +And trampled in the bubbling mire,<br /> +In my most secret spirit grew<br /> +A whirling and a wandering fire:<br /> +I stood: keen stars above me shone,<br /> +Around me shone keen eyes of men:<br /> +I laughed aloud and hurried on<br /> +By rocky shore and rushy fen;<br /> +I laughed because birds fluttered by,<br /> +And starlight gleamed, and clouds flew high,<br /> +And rushes waved and waters rolled.<br /> +<i>They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.</i><br /> +<br /> +And now I wander in the woods<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span>When summer gluts the golden bees,<br /> +Or in autumnal solitudes<br /> +Arise the leopard-coloured trees;<br /> +Or when along the wintry strands<br /> +The cormorants shiver on their rocks;<br /> +I wander on, and wave my hands,<br /> +And sing, and shake my heavy locks.<br /> +The gray wolf knows me; by one ear<br /> +I lead along the woodland deer;<br /> +The hares run by me growing bold.<br /> +<i>They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.</i><br /> +<br /> +I came upon a little town,<br /> +That slumbered in the harvest moon,<br /> +And passed a-tiptoe up and down,<br /> +Murmuring, to a fitful tune,<br /> +How I have followed, night and day,<br /> +A tramping of tremendous feet,<br /> +And saw where this old tympan lay,<br /> +Deserted on a doorway seat,<br /> +And bore it to the woods with me;<br /> +Of some unhuman misery<br /> +Our married voiced wildly trolled.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span><i>They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.</i><br /> +<br /> +I sang how, when day's toil is done,<br /> +Orchil shakes out her long dark hair<br /> +That hides away the dying sun<br /> +And sheds faint odours through the air:<br /> +When my hand passed from wire to wire<br /> +It quenched, with sound like falling dew,<br /> +The whirling and the wandering fire;<br /> +But lift a mournful ulalu,<br /> +For the kind wires are torn and still,<br /> +And I must wander wood and hill<br /> +Through summer's heat and winter's cold.<br /> +<i>They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.</i></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_STOLEN_CHILD" id="THE_STOLEN_CHILD"></a>THE STOLEN CHILD</h3> + + +<p> +Where dips the rocky highland<br /> +Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,<br /> +There lies a leafy island<br /> +Where flapping herons wake<br /> +The drowsy water rats;<br /> +There we've hid our faery vats,<br /> +Full of berries,<br /> +And of reddest stolen cherries.<br /> +<i>Come away, O human child!<br /> +To the waters and the wild<br /> +With a faery, hand in hand,<br /> +For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.</i><br /> +<br /> +Where the wave of moonlight glosses<br /> +The dim gray sands with light,<br /> +Far off by furthest Rosses<br /> +We foot it all the night,<br /> +Weaving olden dances,<br /> +Mingling hands and mingling glances<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span>Till the moon has taken flight;<br /> +To and fro we leap<br /> +And chase the frothy bubbles,<br /> +While the world is full of troubles<br /> +And is anxious in its sleep.<br /> +<i>Come away, O human child!<br /> +To the waters and the wild<br /> +With a faery, hand in hand,<br /> +For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.</i><br /> +<br /> +Where the wandering water gushes<br /> +From the hills above Glen-Car,<br /> +In pools among the rushes<br /> +That scarce could bathe a star,<br /> +We seek for slumbering trout<br /> +And whispering in their ears<br /> +Give them unquiet dreams;<br /> +Leaning softly out<br /> +From ferns that drop their tears<br /> +Over the young streams,<br /> +<i>Come away, O human child!<br /> +To the waters and the wild<br /> +With a faery, hand in hand,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span>For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.</i><br /> +<br /> +Away with us he's going,<br /> +The solemn-eyed:<br /> +He'll hear no more the lowing<br /> +Of the calves on the warm hillside<br /> +Or the kettle on the hob<br /> +Sing peace into his breast,<br /> +Or see the brown mice bob<br /> +Round and round the oatmeal-chest.<br /> +<i>For he comes, the human child,<br /> +To the waters and the wild<br /> +With a faery, hand in hand,<br /> +From a world more full of weeping than he can understand.</i></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="TO_AN_ISLE_IN_THE_WATER" id="TO_AN_ISLE_IN_THE_WATER"></a>TO AN ISLE IN THE WATER</h3> + + +<p> +Shy one, shy one,<br /> +Shy one of my heart,<br /> +She moves in the firelight<br /> +Pensively apart.<br /> +<br /> +She carries in the dishes,<br /> +And lays them in a row.<br /> +To an isle in the water<br /> +With her would I go.<br /> +<br /> +She carries in the candles,<br /> +And lights the curtained room,<br /> +Shy in the doorway<br /> +And shy in the gloom;<br /> +<br /> +And shy as a rabbit,<br /> +Helpful and shy.<br /> +To an isle in the water<br /> +With her would I fly.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="DOWN_BY_THE_SALLEY_GARDENS" id="DOWN_BY_THE_SALLEY_GARDENS"></a>DOWN BY THE SALLEY GARDENS</h3> + + +<p> +Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet;<br /> +She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet.<br /> +She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree;<br /> +But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.<br /> +<br /> +In a field by the river my love and I did stand,<br /> +And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand.<br /> +She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs;<br /> +But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_MEDITATION_OF_THE_OLD_FISHERMAN" id="THE_MEDITATION_OF_THE_OLD_FISHERMAN"></a>THE MEDITATION OF THE OLD +FISHERMAN</h3> + + +<p> +You waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play,<br /> +Though you glow and you glance, though you purr and you dart;<br /> +In the Junes that were warmer than these are, the waves were more gay,<br /> +<i>When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart</i>.<br /> +<br /> +The herring are not in the tides as they were of old;<br /> +My sorrow! for many a creak gave the creel in the cart<br /> +That carried the take to Sligo town to be sold,<br /> +<i>When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart</i>.<br /> +<br /> +And ah, you proud maiden, you are not so fair when his oar<br /> +Is heard on the water, as they were, the proud and apart,<br /> +Who paced in the eve by the nets on the pebbly shore,<br /> +<i>When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart</i>.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_BALLAD_OF_FATHER_OHART" id="THE_BALLAD_OF_FATHER_OHART"></a>THE BALLAD OF FATHER O'HART</h3> + + +<p> +Good Father John O'Hart<br /> +In penal days rode out<br /> +To a shoneen who had free lands<br /> +And his own snipe and trout.<br /> +<br /> +In trust took he John's lands;<br /> +Sleiveens were all his race;<br /> +And he gave them as dowers to his daughters,<br /> +And they married beyond their place.<br /> +<br /> +But Father John went up,<br /> +And Father John went down;<br /> +And he wore small holes in his shoes,<br /> +And he wore large holes in his gown.<br /> +<br /> +All loved him, only the shoneen,<br /> +Whom the devils have by the hair,<br /> +From the wives, and the cats, and the children,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span>To the birds in the white of the air.<br /> +<br /> +The birds, for he opened their cages<br /> +As he went up and down;<br /> +And he said with a smile, "Have peace now";<br /> +And he went his way with a frown.<br /> +<br /> +But if when any one died<br /> +Came keeners hoarser than rooks,<br /> +He bade them give over their keening;<br /> +For he was a man of books.<br /> +<br /> +And these were the works of John,<br /> +When weeping score by score,<br /> +People came into Coloony;<br /> +For he'd died at ninety-four.<br /> +<br /> +There was no human keening;<br /> +The birds from Knocknarea<br /> +And the world round Knocknashee<br /> +Came keening in that day.<br /> +<br /> +The young birds and old birds<br /> +Came flying, heavy and sad;<br /> +Keening in from Tiraragh,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span>Keening from Ballinafad;<br /> +<br /> +Keening from Inishmurray,<br /> +Nor stayed for bite or sup;<br /> +This way were all reproved<br /> +Who dig old customs up.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_BALLAD_OF_MOLL_MAGEE" id="THE_BALLAD_OF_MOLL_MAGEE"></a>THE BALLAD OF MOLL MAGEE</h3> + + +<p> +Come round me, little childer;<br /> +There, don't fling stones at me<br /> +Because I mutter as I go;<br /> +But pity Moll Magee.<br /> +<br /> +My man was a poor fisher<br /> +With shore lines in the say;<br /> +My work was saltin' herrings<br /> +The whole of the long day.<br /> +<br /> +And sometimes from the saltin' shed,<br /> +I scarce could drag my feet<br /> +Under the blessed moonlight,<br /> +Along the pebbly street.<br /> +<br /> +I'd always been but weakly,<br /> +And my baby was just born;<br /> +A neighbour minded her by day<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span>I minded her till morn.<br /> +<br /> +I lay upon my baby;<br /> +Ye little childer dear,<br /> +I looked on my cold baby<br /> +When the morn grew frosty and clear.<br /> +<br /> +A weary woman sleeps so hard!<br /> +My man grew red and pale,<br /> +And gave me money, and bade me go<br /> +To my own place, Kinsale.<br /> +<br /> +He drove me out and shut the door,<br /> +And gave his curse to me;<br /> +I went away in silence,<br /> +No neighbour could I see.<br /> +<br /> +The windows and the doors were shut,<br /> +One star shone faint and green<br /> +The little straws were turnin' round<br /> +Across the bare boreen.<br /> +<br /> +I went away in silence:<br /> +Beyond old Martin's byre<br /> +I saw a kindly neighbour<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span>Blowin' her mornin' fire.<br /> +<br /> +She drew from me my story—<br /> +My money's all used up,<br /> +And still, with pityin', scornin' eye,<br /> +She gives me bite and sup.<br /> +<br /> +She says my man will surely come,<br /> +And fetch me home agin;<br /> +But always, as I'm movin' round,<br /> +Without doors or within,<br /> +<br /> +Pilin' the wood or pilin' the turf,<br /> +Or goin' to the well,<br /> +I'm thinkin' of my baby<br /> +And keenin' to mysel'.<br /> +<br /> +And sometimes I am sure she knows<br /> +When, openin' wide His door,<br /> +God lights the stars, His candles,<br /> +And looks upon the poor.<br /> +<br /> +So now, ye little childer,<br /> +Ye won't fling stones at me;<br /> +But gather with your shinin' looks<br /> +And pity Moll Magee.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_BALLAD_OF_THE_FOXHUNTER" id="THE_BALLAD_OF_THE_FOXHUNTER"></a>THE BALLAD OF THE FOXHUNTER</h3> + + +<p> +"Now lay me in a cushioned chair<br /> +"And carry me, you four,<br /> +"With cushions here and cushions there,<br /> +"To see the world once more.<br /> +<br /> +"And some one from the stables bring<br /> +"My Dermot dear and brown,<br /> +"And lead him gently in a ring,<br /> +"And gently up and down.<br /> +<br /> +"Now leave the chair upon the grass:<br /> +"Bring hound and huntsman here,<br /> +"And I on this strange road will pass,<br /> +"Filled full of ancient cheer."<br /> +<br /> +His eyelids droop, his head falls low,<br /> +His old eyes cloud with dreams;<br /> +The sun upon all things that grow<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span>Pours round in sleepy streams.<br /> +<br /> +Brown Dermot treads upon the lawn,<br /> +And to the armchair goes,<br /> +And now the old man's dreams are gone,<br /> +He smooths the long brown nose.<br /> +<br /> +And now moves many a pleasant tongue<br /> +Upon his wasted hands,<br /> +For leading aged hounds and young<br /> +The huntsman near him stands.<br /> +<br /> +"My huntsman, Rody, blow the horn,<br /> +"And make the hills reply."<br /> +The huntsman loosens on the morn<br /> +A gay and wandering cry.<br /> +<br /> +A fire is in the old man's eyes,<br /> +His fingers move and sway,<br /> +And when the wandering music dies<br /> +They hear him feebly say,<br /> +<br /> +"My huntsman, Rody, blow the horn,<br /> +"And make the hills reply."<br /> +"I cannot blow upon my horn,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span>"I can but weep and sigh."<br /> +<br /> +The servants round his cushioned place<br /> +Are with new sorrow wrung;<br /> +And hounds are gazing on his face,<br /> +Both aged hounds and young.<br /> +<br /> +One blind hound only lies apart<br /> +On the sun-smitten grass;<br /> +He holds deep commune with his heart:<br /> +The moments pass and pass;<br /> +<br /> +The blind hound with a mournful din<br /> +Lifts slow his wintry head;<br /> +The servants bear the body in;<br /> +The hounds wail for the dead.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> + +<div class="chapter"> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span></p> + +<h2> +<a name="THE_WANDERINGS_OF_USHEEN" id="THE_WANDERINGS_OF_USHEEN"></a> +THE WANDERINGS OF USHEEN</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span></p> + +<p class="center p6">"<i>Give me the world if Thou wilt, but grant me an asylum +for my affections.</i>"</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Tulka.</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span></p> + +<p class="center p6"><span class="smcap">To</span><br /> +EDWIN J. ELLIS</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span></p> +<h3>BOOK I</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span></p> +<p class="actor">S. PATRIC</p> + +<p class="speech">You who are bent, and bald, and blind,<br /> +With a heavy heart and a wandering mind,<br /> +Have known three centuries, poets sing,<br /> +Of dalliance with a demon thing.</p> + +<p class="actor">USHEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Sad to remember, sick with years,<br /> +The swift innumerable spears,<br /> +The horsemen with their floating hair,<br /> +And bowls of barley, honey, and wine,<br /> +And feet of maidens dancing in tune,<br /> +And the white body that lay by mine;<br /> +But the tale, though words be lighter than air,<br /> +Must live to be old like the wandering moon.<br /> +<br /> +Caolte, and Conan, and Finn were there,<br /> +When we followed a deer with our baying hounds,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span>With Bran, Sgeolan, and Lomair,<br /> +And passing the Firbolgs' burial mounds,<br /> +Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill<br /> +Where passionate Maive is stony still;<br /> +And found on the dove-gray edge of the sea<br /> +A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode<br /> +On a horse with bridle of findrinny;<br /> +And like a sunset were her lips,<br /> +A stormy sunset on doomed ships;<br /> +A citron colour gloomed in her hair,<br /> +But down to her feet white vesture flowed,<br /> +And with the glimmering crimson glowed<br /> +Of many a figured embroidery;<br /> +And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell<br /> +That wavered like the summer streams,<br /> +As her soft bosom rose and fell.</p> + +<p class="actor">S. PATRIC</p> + +<p class="speech">You are still wrecked among heathen dreams.</p> + +<p class="actor">USHEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">"Why do you wind no horn?" she said.<br /> +"And every hero droop his head?<br /> +"The hornless deer is not more sad<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span>"That many a peaceful moment had,<br /> +"More sleek than any granary mouse,<br /> +"In his own leafy forest house<br /> +"Among the waving fields of fern:<br /> +"The hunting of heroes should be glad."<br /> +<br /> +"O pleasant woman," answered Finn,<br /> +"We think on Oscar's pencilled urn,<br /> +"And on the heroes lying slain,<br /> +On Gavra's raven-covered plain;<br /> +"But where are your noble kith and kin,<br /> +"And from what country do you ride?"<br /> +<br /> +"My father and my mother are<br /> +"Aengus and Adene, my own name<br /> +"Niam, and my country far<br /> +"Beyond the tumbling of this tide."<br /> +<br /> +"What dream came with you that you came<br /> +"Through bitter tide on foam wet feet?<br /> +"Did your companion wander away<br /> +"From where the birds of Aengus wing?"<br /> +<br /> +She said, with laughter tender and sweet:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span>"I have not yet, war-weary king,<br /> +"Been spoken of with any one;<br /> +"Yet now I choose, for these four feet<br /> +"Ran through the foam and ran to this<br /> +"That I might have your son to kiss."<br /> +<br /> +"Were there no better than my son<br /> +"That you through all that foam should run?"<br /> +<br /> +"I loved no man, though kings besought<br /> +"Love, till the Danaan poets brought<br /> +"Rhyme, that rhymed to Usheen's name,<br /> +"And now I am dizzy with the thought<br /> +"Of all that wisdom and the fame<br /> +"Of battles broken by his hands,<br /> +"Of stories builded by his words<br /> +"That are like coloured Asian birds<br /> +"At evening in their rainless lands."<br /> +<br /> +O Patric, by your brazen bell,<br /> +There was no limb of mine but fell<br /> +Into a desperate gulph of love!<br /> +"You only will I wed," I cried,<br /> +"And I will make a thousand songs,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span>"And set your name all names above.<br /> +"And captives bound with leathern thongs<br /> +"Shall kneel and praise you, one by one,<br /> +"At evening in my western dun."<br /> +<br /> +"O Usheen, mount by me and ride<br /> +"To shores by the wash of the tremulous tide,<br /> +"Where men have heaped no burial mounds,<br /> +"And the days pass by like a wayward tune,<br /> +"Where broken faith has never been known,<br /> +"And the blushes of first love never have flown;<br /> +"And there I will give you a hundred hounds;<br /> +"No mightier creatures bay at the moon;<br /> +"And a hundred robes of murmuring silk,<br /> +"And a hundred calves and a hundred sheep<br /> +"Whose long wool whiter than sea froth flows,<br /> +"And a hundred spears and a hundred bows,<br /> +"And oil and wine and honey and milk,<br /> +"And always never-anxious sleep;<br /> +"While a hundred youths, mighty of limb,<br /> +"But knowing nor tumult nor hate nor strife,<br /> +"And a hundred maidens, merry as birds,<br /> +"Who when they dance to a fitful measure<br /> +"Have a speed like the speed of the salmon herds,<br /> +"Shall follow your horn and obey your whim,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span>"And you shall know the Danaan leisure:<br /> +"And Niam be with you for a wife."<br /> +Then she sighed gently, "It grows late,<br /> +"Music and love and sleep await,<br /> +"Where I would be when the white moon climbs<br /> +"The red sun falls, and the world grows dim."<br /> +<br /> +And then I mounted and she bound me<br /> +With her triumphing arms around me,<br /> +And whispering to herself enwound me;<br /> +But when the horse had felt my weight,<br /> +He shook himself and neighed three times:<br /> +Caolte, Conan, and Finn came near,<br /> +And wept, and raised their lamenting hands,<br /> +And bid me stay, with many a tear;<br /> +But we rode out from the human lands.<br /> +<br /> +In what far kingdom do you go,<br /> +Ah, Fenians, with the shield and bow?<br /> +Or are you phantoms white as snow,<br /> +Whose lips had life's most prosperous glow?<br /> +O you, with whom in sloping valleys,<br /> +Or down the dewy forest alleys,<br /> +I chased at morn the flying deer,<br /> +With whom I hurled the hurrying spear,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span>And heard the foemen's bucklers rattle,<br /> +And broke the heaving ranks of battle!<br /> +And Bran, Sgeolan, and Lomair,<br /> +Where are you with your long rough hair?<br /> +You go not where the red deer feeds,<br /> +Nor tear the foemen from their steeds.</p> + +<p class="actor">S. PATRIC</p> + +<p class="speech">Boast not, nor mourn with drooping head<br /> +Companions long accurst and dead,<br /> +And hounds for centuries dust and air.</p> + +<p class="actor">USHEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">We galloped over the glossy sea:<br /> +I know not if days passed or hours,<br /> +And Niam sang continually<br /> +Danaan songs, and their dewy showers<br /> +Of pensive laughter, unhuman sound,<br /> +Lulled weariness, and softly round<br /> +My human sorrow her white arms wound.<br /> +<br /> +We galloped; now a hornless deer<br /> +Passed by us, chased by a phantom hound<br /> +All pearly white, save one red ear;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span>And now a maiden rode like the wind<br /> +With an apple of gold in her tossing hand;<br /> +And a beautiful young man followed behind<br /> +With quenchless gaze and fluttering hair.<br /> +<br /> +"Were these two born in the Danaan land,<br /> +"Or have they breathed the mortal air?"<br /> +<br /> +"Vex them no longer," Niam said,<br /> +And sighing bowed her gentle head,<br /> +And sighing laid the pearly tip<br /> +Of one long finger on my lip.<br /> +<br /> +But now the moon like a white rose shone<br /> +In the pale west, and the sun's rim sank,<br /> +And clouds arrayed their rank on rank<br /> +About his fading crimson ball:<br /> +The floor of Emen's hosting hall<br /> +Was not more level than the sea,<br /> +As full of loving phantasy,<br /> +And with low murmurs we rode on,<br /> +Where many a trumpet-twisted shell<br /> +That in immortal silence sleeps<br /> +Dreaming of her own melting hues,<br /> +Her golds, her ambers, and her blues,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span>Pierced with soft light the shallowing deeps.<br /> +<br /> +But now a wandering land breeze came<br /> +And a far sound of feathery quires;<br /> +It seemed to blow from the dying flame,<br /> +They seemed to sing in the smouldering fires.<br /> +The horse towards the music raced,<br /> +Neighing along the lifeless waste;<br /> +Like sooty fingers, many a tree<br /> +Rose ever out of the warm sea;<br /> +And they were trembling ceaselessly,<br /> +As though they all were beating time,<br /> +Upon the centre of the sun,<br /> +To that low laughing woodland rhyme.<br /> +And, now our wandering hours were done,<br /> +We cantered to the shore, and knew<br /> +The reason of the trembling trees:<br /> +Round every branch the song-birds flew,<br /> +Or clung thereon like swarming bees;<br /> +While round the shore a million stood<br /> +Like drops of frozen rainbow light,<br /> +And pondered in a soft vain mood<br /> +Upon their shadows in the tide,<br /> +And told the purple deeps their pride,<br /> +And murmured snatches of delight;<br /> +And on the shores were many boats<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span>With bending sterns and bending bows.<br /> +<br /> +And carven figures on their prows<br /> +Of bitterns, and fish-eating stoats,<br /> +And swans with their exultant throats:<br /> +And where the wood and waters meet<br /> +We tied the horse in a leafy clump,<br /> +And Niam blew three merry notes<br /> +Out of a little silver trump;<br /> +And then an answering whispering flew<br /> +Over the bare and woody land,<br /> +A whisper of impetuous feet,<br /> +And ever nearer, nearer grew;<br /> +And from the woods rushed out a band<br /> +Of men and maidens, hand in hand,<br /> +And singing, singing altogether;<br /> +Their brows were white as fragrant milk,<br /> +Their cloaks made out of yellow silk,<br /> +And trimmed with many a crimson feather:<br /> +And when they saw the cloak I wore<br /> +Was dim with mire of a mortal shore,<br /> +They fingered it and gazed on me<br /> +And laughed like murmurs of the sea;<br /> +But Niam with a swift distress<br /> +Bid them away and hold their peace;<br /> +And when they heard her voice they ran<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span>And knelt them, every maid and man<br /> +And kissed, as they would never cease,<br /> +Her pearl-pale hand and the hem of her dress.<br /> +She bade them bring us to the hall<br /> +Where Aengus dreams, from sun to sun,<br /> +A Druid dream of the end of days<br /> +When the stars are to wane and the world be done.<br /> +<br /> +They led us by long and shadowy ways<br /> +Where drops of dew in myriads fall,<br /> +And tangled creepers every hour<br /> +Blossom in some new crimson flower,<br /> +And once a sudden laughter sprang<br /> +From all their lips, and once they sang<br /> +Together, while the dark woods rang,<br /> +And made in all their distant parts,<br /> +With boom of bees in honey marts,<br /> +A rumour of delighted hearts.<br /> +And once a maiden by my side<br /> +Gave me a harp, and bid me sing,<br /> +And touch the laughing silver string;<br /> +But when I sang of human joy<br /> +A sorrow wrapped each merry face,<br /> +And, Patric! by your beard, they wept,<br /> +Until one came, a tearful boy;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span>"A sadder creature never stept<br /> +"Than this strange human bard," he cried;<br /> +And caught the silver harp away,<br /> +And, weeping over the white strings, hurled<br /> +It down in a leaf-hid, hollow place<br /> +That kept dim waters from the sky;<br /> +And each one said, with a long, long sigh,<br /> +"O saddest harp in all the world,<br /> +"Sleep there till the moon and the stars die!"<br /> +<br /> +And now still sad we came to where<br /> +A beautiful young man dreamed within<br /> +A house of wattles, clay, and skin;<br /> +One hand upheld his beardless chin,<br /> +And one a sceptre flashing out<br /> +Wild flames of red and gold and blue,<br /> +Like to a merry wandering rout<br /> +Of dancers leaping in the air;<br /> +And men and maidens knelt them there<br /> +And showed their eyes with teardrops dim,<br /> +And with low murmurs prayed to him,<br /> +And kissed the sceptre with red lips,<br /> +And touched it with their finger-tips.<br /> +<br /> +He held that flashing sceptre up.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span>"Joy drowns the twilight in the dew,<br /> +"And fills with stars night's purple cup,<br /> +"And wakes the sluggard seeds of corn,<br /> +"And stirs the young kid's budding horn.<br /> +"And makes the infant ferns unwrap,<br /> +"And for the peewit paints his cap,<br /> +"And rolls along the unwieldy sun,<br /> +"And makes the little planets run:<br /> +"And if joy were not on the earth,<br /> +"There were an end of change and birth,<br /> +"And earth and heaven and hell would die,<br /> +"And in some gloomy barrow lie<br /> +"Folded like a frozen fly;<br /> +"Then mock at Death and Time with glances<br /> +"And wavering arms and wandering dances.<br /> +<br /> +"Men's hearts of old were drops of flame<br /> +"That from the saffron morning came,<br /> +"Or drops of silver joy that fell<br /> +"Out of the moon's pale twisted shell;<br /> +"But now hearts cry that hearts are slaves,<br /> +"And toss and turn in narrow caves;<br /> +"But here there is nor law nor rule,<br /> +"Nor have hands held a weary tool;<br /> +"And here there is nor Change nor Death,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span>"But only kind and merry breath,<br /> +"For joy is God and God is joy."<br /> +With one long glance on maid and boy<br /> +And the pale blossom of the moon,<br /> +He fell into a Druid swoon.<br /> +<br /> +And in a wild and sudden dance<br /> +We mocked at Time and Fate and Chance<br /> +And swept out of the wattled hall<br /> +And came to where the dewdrops fall<br /> +Among the foamdrops of the sea,<br /> +And there we hushed the revelry;<br /> +And, gathering on our brows a frown,<br /> +Bent all our swaying bodies down,<br /> +And to the waves that glimmer by<br /> +That sloping green De Danaan sod<br /> +Sang "God is joy and joy is God.<br /> +"And things that have grown sad are wicked,<br /> +"And things that fear the dawn of the morrow<br /> +"Or the gray wandering osprey Sorrow."<br /> +<br /> +We danced to where in the winding thicket<br /> +The damask roses, bloom on bloom,<br /> +Like crimson meteors hang in the gloom,<br /> +And bending over them softly said,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span>Bending over them in the dance,<br /> +With a swift and friendly glance<br /> +From dewy eyes: "Upon the dead<br /> +"Fall the leaves of other roses,<br /> +"On the dead dim earth encloses:<br /> +"But never, never on our graves,<br /> +"Heaped beside the glimmering waves,<br /> +"Shall fall the leaves of damask roses.<br /> +"For neither Death nor Change comes near us,<br /> +"And all listless hours fear us,<br /> +"And we fear no dawning morrow,<br /> +"Nor the gray wandering osprey Sorrow."<br /> +<br /> +The dance wound through the windless woods;<br /> +The ever-summered solitudes;<br /> +Until the tossing arms grew still<br /> +Upon the woody central hill;<br /> +And, gathered in a panting band,<br /> +We flung on high each waving hand,<br /> +And sang unto the starry broods:<br /> +In our raised eyes there flashed a glow<br /> +Of milky brightness to and fro<br /> +As thus our song arose: "You stars,<br /> +"Across your wandering ruby cars<br /> +"Shake the loose reins: you slaves of God<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span>"He rules you with an iron rod,<br /> +"He holds you with an iron bond,<br /> +"Each one woven to the other,<br /> +"Each one woven to his brother<br /> +"Like bubbles in a frozen pond;<br /> +"But we in a lonely land abide<br /> +"Unchainable as the dim tide,<br /> +"With hearts that know nor law nor rule,<br /> +"And hands that hold no wearisome tool<br /> +"Folded in love that fears no morrow,<br /> +"Nor the gray wandering osprey Sorrow."<br /> +<br /> +O Patric! for a hundred years<br /> +I chased upon that woody shore<br /> +The deer, the badger, and the boar.<br /> +O Patric! for a hundred years<br /> +At evening on the glimmering sands,<br /> +Beside the piled-up hunting spears,<br /> +These now outworn and withered hands<br /> +Wrestled among the island bands.<br /> +O Patric! for a hundred years<br /> +We went a-fishing in long boats<br /> +With bending sterns and bending bows,<br /> +And carven figures on their prows<br /> +Of bitterns and fish-eating stoats.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span>O Patric! for a hundred years<br /> +The gentle Niam was my wife;<br /> +But now two things devour my life;<br /> +The things that most of all I hate;<br /> +Fasting and prayers.</p> + +<p class="actor">S. PATRIC</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">Tell on.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">USHEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Yes, yes,</span><br /> +For these were ancient Usheen's fate<br /> +Loosed long ago from heaven's gate,<br /> +For his last days to lie in wait.<br /> +<br /> +When one day by the tide I stood,<br /> +I found in that forgetfulness<br /> +Of dreamy foam a staff of wood<br /> +From some dead warrior's broken lance:<br /> +I turned it in my hands; the stains<br /> +Of war were on it, and I wept,<br /> +Remembering how the Fenians stept<br /> +Along the blood-bedabbled plains,<br /> +Equal to good or grievous chance:<br /> +Thereon young Niam softly came<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span>And caught my hands, but spake no word<br /> +Save only many times my name,<br /> +In murmurs, like a frighted bird.<br /> +We passed by woods, and lawns of clover,<br /> +And found the horse and bridled him,<br /> +For we knew well the old was over.<br /> +I heard one say "His eyes grow dim<br /> +"With all the ancient sorrow of men";<br /> +And wrapped in dreams rode out again<br /> +With hoofs of the pale findrinny<br /> +Over the glimmering purple sea:<br /> +Under the golden evening light.<br /> +The immortals moved among the fountains<br /> +By rivers and the woods' old night;<br /> +Some danced like shadows on the mountains,<br /> +Some wandered ever hand in hand,<br /> +Or sat in dreams on the pale strand;<br /> +Each forehead like an obscure star<br /> +Bent down above each hooked knee:<br /> +And sang, and with a dreamy gaze<br /> +Watched where the sun in a saffron blaze<br /> +Was slumbering half in the sea ways;<br /> +And, as they sang, the painted birds<br /> +Kept time with their bright wings and feet;<br /> +Like drops of honey came their words,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span>But fainter than a young lamb's bleat.<br /> +<br /> +"An old man stirs the fire to a blaze,<br /> +"In the house of a child, of a friend, of a brother<br /> +"He has over-lingered his welcome; the days,<br /> +"Grown desolate, whisper and sigh to each other;<br /> +"He hears the storm in the chimney above,<br /> +"And bends to the fire and shakes with the cold,<br /> +"While his heart still dreams of battle and love,<br /> +"And the cry of the hounds on the hills of old.<br /> +<br /> +"But we are apart in the grassy places,<br /> +"Where care cannot trouble the least of our days,<br /> +"Or the softness of youth be gone from our faces,<br /> +"Or love's first tenderness die in our gaze.<br /> +"The hare grows old as she plays in the sun<br /> +"And gazes around her with eyes of brightness;<br /> +"Before the swift things that she dreamed of were done<br /> +"She limps along in an aged whiteness;<br /> +"A storm of birds in the Asian trees<br /> +"Like tulips in the air a-winging,<br /> +"And the gentle waves of the summer seas,<br /> +"That raise their heads and wander singing.<br /> +"Must murmur at last 'Unjust, unjust';<br /> +"And 'My speed is a weariness,' falters the mouse<br /> +"And the kingfisher turns to a ball of dust,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span>"And the roof falls in of his tunnelled house.<br /> +<br /> +"But the love-dew dims our eyes till the day<br /> +"When God shall come from the sea with a sigh<br /> +"And bid the stars drop down from the sky,<br /> +"And the moon like a pale rose wither away."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a></span></p> + + +<div class="section"> +<h3>BOOK II</h3><p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p> +Now, man of croziers, shadows called our names<br /> +And then away, away, like whirling flames;<br /> +And now fled by, mist-covered, without sound,<br /> +The youth and lady and the deer and hound;<br /> +"Gaze no more on the phantoms," Niam said,<br /> +And kissed my eyes, and, swaying her bright head<br /> +And her bright body, sang of faery and man<br /> +Before God was or my old line began;<br /> +Wars shadowy, vast, exultant; faeries of old<br /> +Who wedded men with rings of Druid gold;<br /> +And how those lovers never turn their eyes<br /> +Upon the life that fades and flickers and dies,<br /> +But love and kiss on dim shores far away<br /> +Rolled round with music of the sighing spray:<br /> +But sang no more, as when, like a brown bee<br /> +That has drunk full, she crossed the misty sea<br /> +With me in her white arms a hundred years<br /> +Before this day; for now the fall of tears<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span>Troubled her song.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">I do not know if days</span><br /> +Or hours passed by, yet hold the morning rays<br /> +Shone many times among the glimmering flowers<br /> +Woven into her hair, before dark towers<br /> +Rose in the darkness, and the white surf gleamed<br /> +About them; and the horse of faery screamed<br /> +And shivered, knowing the Isle of many Fears,<br /> +Nor ceased until white Niam stroked his ears<br /> +And named him by sweet names.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">A foaming tide</span><br /> +Whitened afar with surge, fan-formed and wide,<br /> +Burst from a great door marred by many a blow<br /> +From mace and sword and pole-axe, long ago<br /> +When gods and giants warred. We rode between<br /> +The seaweed-covered pillars, and the green<br /> +And surging phosphorus alone gave light<br /> +On our dark pathway, till a countless flight<br /> +Of moonlit steps glimmered; and left and right<br /> +Dark statues glimmered over the pale tide<br /> +Upon dark thrones. Between the lids of one<br /> +The imaged meteors had flashed and run<br /> +And had disported in the stilly jet,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span>And the fixed stars had dawned and shone and set,<br /> +Since God made Time and Death and Sleep: the other<br /> +Stretched his long arm to where, a misty smother,<br /> +The stream churned, churned, and churned—his lips apart,<br /> +As though he told his never slumbering heart<br /> +Of every foamdrop on its misty way:<br /> +Tying the horse to his vast foot that lay<br /> +Half in the unvesselled sea, we climbed the stairs<br /> +And climbed so long, I thought the last steps were<br /> +Hung from the morning star; when these mild words<br /> +Fanned the delighted air like wings of birds:<br /> +"My brothers spring out of their beds at morn,<br /> +"A-murmur like young partridge: with loud horn<br /> +"They chase the noontide deer;<br /> +"And when the dew-drowned stars hang in the air<br /> +"Look to long fishing-lines, or point and pare<br /> +"An ash-wood hunting spear.<br /> +<br /> +"O sigh, O fluttering sigh, be kind to me;<br /> +"Flutter along the froth lips of the sea,<br /> +"And shores, the froth lips wet:<br /> +"And stay a little while, and bid them weep:<br /> +"Ah, touch their blue-veined eyelids if they sleep,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span>"And shake their coverlet.<br /> +<br /> +"When you have told how I weep endlessly,<br /> +"Flutter along the froth lips of the sea<br /> +"And home to me again,<br /> +"And in the shadow of my hair lie hid,<br /> +"And tell me how you came to one unbid,<br /> +"The saddest of all men."<br /> +<br /> +A maiden with soft eyes like funeral tapers,<br /> +And face that seemed wrought out of moonlit vapours,<br /> +And a sad mouth, that fear made tremulous<br /> +As any ruddy moth, looked down on us;<br /> +And she with a wave-rusted chain was tied<br /> +To two old eagles, full of ancient pride,<br /> +That with dim eyeballs stood on either side.<br /> +Few feathers were on their dishevelled wings,<br /> +For their dim minds were with the ancient things.<br /> +<br /> +"I bring deliverance," pearl-pale Niam said.<br /> +<br /> +"Neither the living, nor the unlabouring dead,<br /> +"Nor the high gods who never lived, may fight<br /> +"My enemy and hope; demons for fright<br /> +"Jabber and scream about him in the night;<br /> +"For he is strong and crafty as the seas<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span>"That sprang under the Seven Hazel Trees,<br /> +"And I must needs endure and hate and weep,<br /> +"Until the gods and demons drop asleep,<br /> +"Hearing Aed touch the mournful strings of gold."<br /> +<br /> +"Is he so dreadful?"<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">"Be not over bold,</span><br /> +"But flee while you may flee from him."<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 19.5em;">Then I:</span><br /> +"This demon shall be pierced and drop and die,<br /> +"And his loose bulk be thrown in the loud tide."<br /> +<br /> +"Flee from him," pearl-pale Niam weeping cried,<br /> +"For all men flee the demons"; but moved not<br /> +My angry, king remembering soul one jot;<br /> +There was no mightier soul of Heber's line;<br /> +Now it is old and mouse-like: for a sign<br /> +I burst the chain: still earless, nerveless, blind,<br /> +Wrapped in the things of the unhuman mind,<br /> +In some dim memory or ancient mood<br /> +Still earless, nerveless, blind, the eagles stood.<br /> +<br /> +And then we climbed the stair to a high door;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span>A hundred horsemen on the basalt floor<br /> +Beneath had paced content: we held our way<br /> +And stood within: clothed in a misty ray<br /> +I saw a foam-white seagull drift and float<br /> +Under the roof, and with a straining throat<br /> +Shouted, and hailed him: he hung there a star,<br /> +For no man's cry shall ever mount so far;<br /> +Not even your God could have thrown down that hall;<br /> +Stabling His unloosed lightnings in their stall,<br /> +He had sat down and sighed with cumbered heart,<br /> +As though His hour were come.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">We sought the part</span><br /> +That was most distant from the door; green slime<br /> +Made the way slippery, and time on time<br /> +Showed prints of sea-born scales, while down through it<br /> +The captive's journeys to and fro were writ<br /> +Like a small river, and, where feet touched, came<br /> +A momentary gleam of phosphorus flame.<br /> +Under the deepest shadows of the hall<br /> +That maiden found a ring hung on the wall,<br /> +And in the ring a torch, and with its flare<br /> +Making a world about her in the air,<br /> +Passed under a dim doorway, out of sight<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span>And came again, holding a second light<br /> +Burning between her fingers, and in mine<br /> +Laid it and sighed: I held a sword whose shine<br /> +No centuries could dim: and a word ran<br /> +Thereon in Ogham letters, "Mananan";<br /> +That sea god's name, who in a deep content<br /> +Sprang dripping, and, with captive demons sent<br /> +Out of the seven-fold seas, built the dark hall<br /> +Rooted in foam and clouds, and cried to all<br /> +The mightier masters of a mightier race;<br /> +And at his cry there came no milk-pale face<br /> +Under a crown of thorns and dark with blood,<br /> +But only exultant faces.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Niam stood</span><br /> +With bowed head, trembling when the white blade shone,<br /> +But she whose hours of tenderness were gone<br /> +Had neither hope nor fear. I bade them hide<br /> +Under the shadows till the tumults died<br /> +Of the loud crashing and earth shaking fight,<br /> +Lest they should look upon some dreadful sight;<br /> +And thrust the torch between the slimy flags.<br /> +A dome made out of endless carven jags,<br /> +Where shadowy face flowed into shadowy face,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span>Looked down on me; and in the self-same place<br /> +I waited hour by hour, and the high dome,<br /> +Windowless, pillarless, multitudinous home<br /> +Of faces, waited; and the leisured gaze<br /> +Was loaded with the memory of days<br /> +Buried and mighty. When through the great door<br /> +The dawn came in, and glimmered on the floor<br /> +With a pale light, I journeyed round the hall<br /> +And found a door deep sunken in the wall,<br /> +The least of doors; beyond on a dim plain<br /> +A little runnel made a bubbling strain,<br /> +And on the runnel's stony and bare edge<br /> +A husky demon dry as a withered sedge<br /> +Swayed, crooning to himself an unknown tongue:<br /> +In a sad revelry he sang and swung<br /> +Bacchant and mournful, passing to and fro<br /> +His hand along the runnel's side, as though<br /> +The flowers still grew there: far on the sea's waste<br /> +Shaking and waving, vapour vapour chased,<br /> +While high frail cloudlets, fed with a green light,<br /> +Like drifts of leaves, immovable and bright,<br /> +Hung in the passionate dawn. He slowly turned:<br /> +A demon's leisure: eyes, first white, now burned<br /> +Like wings of kingfishers; and he arose<br /> +Barking. We trampled up and down with blows<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span>Of sword and brazen battle-axe, while day<br /> +Gave to high noon and noon to night gave way;<br /> +And when at withering of the sun he knew<br /> +The Druid sword of Mananan, he grew<br /> +To many shapes; I lunged at the smooth throat<br /> +Of a great eel; it changed, and I but smote<br /> +A fir-tree roaring in its leafless top;<br /> +I held a dripping corpse, with livid chop<br /> +And sunken shape, against my face and breast,<br /> +When I tore down the tree; but when the west<br /> +Surged up in plumy fire, I lunged and drave<br /> +Through heart and spine, and cast him in the wave,<br /> +Lest Niam shudder.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Full of hope and dread</span><br /> +Those two came carrying wine and meat and bread,<br /> +And healed my wounds with unguents out of flowers<br /> +That feed white moths by some De Danaan shrine;<br /> +Then in that hall, lit by the dim sea shine,<br /> +We lay on skins of otters, and drank wine,<br /> +Brewed by the sea-gods, from huge cups that lay<br /> +Upon the lips of sea-gods in their day;<br /> +And then on heaped-up skins of otters slept.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span>But when the sun once more in saffron stept,<br /> +Rolling his flagrant wheel out of the deep,<br /> +We sang the loves and angers without sleep,<br /> +And all the exultant labours of the strong:<br /> +<br /> +But now the lying clerics murder song<br /> +With barren words and flatteries of the weak.<br /> +In what land do the powerless turn the beak<br /> +Of ravening Sorrow, or the hand of Wrath?<br /> +For all your croziers, they have left the path<br /> +And wander in the storms and clinging snows,<br /> +Hopeless for ever: ancient Usheen knows,<br /> +For he is weak and poor and blind, and lies<br /> +On the anvil of the world.</p> + +<p class="actor">S. PATRIC</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">Be still: the skies</span><br /> +Are choked with thunder, lightning, and fierce wind,<br /> +For God has heard, and speaks His angry mind;<br /> +Go cast your body on the stones and pray,<br /> +For He has wrought midnight and dawn and day.</p> + +<p class="actor">USHEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Saint, do you weep? I hear amid the thunder<br /> +The Fenian horses; armour torn asunder;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span>Laughter and cries; the armies clash and shock;<br /> +All is done now; I see the ravens flock;<br /> +Ah, cease, you mournful, laughing Fenian horn!<br /> +<br /> +We feasted for three days. On the fourth morn<br /> +I found, dropping sea foam on the wide stair,<br /> +And hung with slime, and whispering in his hair,<br /> +That demon dull and unsubduable;<br /> +And once more to a day-long battle fell,<br /> +And at the sundown threw him in the surge,<br /> +To lie until the fourth morn saw emerge<br /> +His new healed shape: and for a hundred years<br /> +So warred, so feasted, with nor dreams nor fears,<br /> +Nor languor nor fatigue: and endless feast,<br /> +An endless war.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">The hundred years had ceased;</span><br /> +I stood upon the stair: the surges bore<br /> +A beech bough to me, and my heart grew sore,<br /> +Remembering how I had stood by white-haired Finn<br /> +Under a beech at Emen and heard the thin<br /> +Outcry of bats.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">And then young Niam came</span><br /> +Holding that horse, and sadly called my name;<br /> +I mounted, and we passed over the lone<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span>And drifting grayness, while this monotone,<br /> +Surly and distant, mixed inseparably<br /> +Into the clangour of the wind and sea.<br /> +<br /> +"I hear my soul drop down into decay,<br /> +"And Mananan's dark tower, stone by stone,<br /> +"Gather sea slime and fall the seaward way,<br /> +"And the moon goad the waters night and day,<br /> +"That all be overthrown.<br /> +<br /> +"But till the moon has taken all, I wage<br /> +"War on the mightiest men under the skies,<br /> +"And they have fallen or fled, age after age:<br /> +"Light is man's love, and lighter is man's rage;<br /> +"His purpose drifts and dies."<br /> +<br /> +And then lost Niam murmured, "Love, we go<br /> +"To the Island of Forgetfulness, for lo!<br /> +"The Islands of Dancing and of Victories<br /> +"Are empty of all power."<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">"And which of these</span><br /> +"Is the Island of Content?"<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">"None know," she said;</span><br /> +And on my bosom laid her weeping head.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a></span></p> + + + +<div class="section"> +<h3>BOOK III</h3><p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p> +Fled foam underneath us, and around us, a wandering and milky smoke,<br /> +High as the saddle girth, covering away from our glances the tide;<br /> +And those that fled, and that followed, from the foam-pale distance broke;<br /> +The immortal desire of immortals we saw in their faces, and sighed.<br /> +<br /> +I mused on the chase with the Fenians, and Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair,<br /> +And never a song sang Niam, and over my finger-tips<br /> +Came now the sliding of tears and sweeping of mist-cold hair,<br /> +And now the warmth of sighs, and after the quiver of lips.<br /> +<br /> +Were we days long or hours long in riding, when rolled in a grisly peace,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span>An isle lay level before us, with dripping hazel and oak?<br /> +And we stood on a sea's edge we saw not; for whiter than new-washed fleece<br /> +Fled foam underneath us, and round us, a wandering and milky smoke.<br /> +<br /> +And we rode on the plains of the sea's edge; the sea's edge barren and gray,<br /> +Gray sand on the green of the grasses and over the dripping trees,<br /> +Dripping and doubling landward, as though they would hasten away<br /> +Like an army of old men longing for rest from the moan of the seas.<br /> +<br /> +But the trees grew taller and closer, immense in their wrinkling bark;<br /> +Dropping; a murmurous dropping; old silence and that one sound;<br /> +For no live creatures lived there, no weasels moved in the dark:<br /> +Long sighs arose in our spirits, beneath us bubbled the ground.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span>And the ears of the horse went sinking away in the hollow night,<br /> +For, as drift from a sailor slow drowning the gleams of the world and the sun,<br /> +Ceased on our hands and our faces, on hazel and oak leaf, the light,<br /> +And the stars were blotted above us, and the whole of the world was one.<br /> +<br /> +Till the horse gave a whinny; for, cumbrous with stems of the hazel and oak,<br /> +A valley flowed down from his hoofs, and there in the long grass lay,<br /> +Under the starlight and shadow, a monstrous slumbering folk,<br /> +Their naked and gleaming bodies poured out and heaped in the way.<br /> +<br /> +And by them were arrow and war-axe, arrow and shield and blade;<br /> +And dew-blanched horns, in whose hollow a child of three years old<br /> +Could sleep on a couch of rushes, and all inwrought and inlaid,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span>And more comely than man can make them with bronze and silver and gold.<br /> +<br /> +And each of the huge white creatures was huger than fourscore men;<br /> +The tops of their ears were feathered, their hands were the claws of birds,<br /> +And, shaking the plumes of the grasses and the leaves of the mural glen,<br /> +The breathing came from those bodies, long-warless, grown whiter than curds.<br /> +<br /> +The wood was so spacious above them, that He who had stars for His flocks<br /> +Could fondle the leaves with His fingers, nor go from His dew-cumbered skies;<br /> +So long were they sleeping, the owls had builded their nests in their locks,<br /> +Filling the fibrous dimness with long generations of eyes.<br /> +<br /> +And over the limbs and the valley the slow owls wandered and came,<br /> +Now in a place of star-fire, and now in a shadow place wide;<br /> +And the chief of the huge white creatures, his knees in the soft star-flame,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span>Lay loose in a place of shadow: we drew the reins by his side.<br /> +<br /> +Golden the nails of his bird-claws, flung loosely along the dim ground;<br /> +In one was a branch soft-shining, with bells more many than sighs,<br /> +In midst of an old man's bosom; owls ruffling and pacing around,<br /> +Sidled their bodies against him, filling the shade with their eyes.<br /> +<br /> +And my gaze was thronged with the sleepers; no, not since the world began,<br /> +In realms where the handsome were many, nor in glamours by demons flung,<br /> +Have faces alive with such beauty been known to the salt eye of man,<br /> +Yet weary with passions that faded when the seven-fold seas were young.<br /> +<br /> +And I gazed on the bell-branch, sleep's forebear, far sung by the Sennachies.<br /> +I saw how those slumberers, grown weary, there camping in grasses deep,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span>Of wars with the wide world and pacing the shores of the wandering seas,<br /> +Laid hands on the bell-branch and swayed it, and fed of unhuman sleep.<br /> +<br /> +Snatching the horn of Niam, I blew a lingering note;<br /> +Came sound from those monstrous sleepers, a sound like the stirring of flies.<br /> +He, shaking the fold of his lips, and heaving the pillar of his throat,<br /> +Watched me with mournful wonder out of the wells of his eyes.<br /> +<br /> +I cried, "Come out of the shadow, king of the nails of gold!<br /> +"And tell of your goodly household and the goodly works of your hands,<br /> +"That we may muse in the starlight and talk of the battles of old;<br /> +"Your questioner, Usheen, is worthy, he comes from the Fenian lands."<br /> +<br /> +Half open his eyes were, and held me, dull with the smoke of their dreams;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span>His lips moved slowly in answer, no answer out of them came;<br /> +Then he swayed in his fingers the bell-branch, slow dropping a sound in faint streams<br /> +Softer than snow-flakes in April and piercing the marrow like flame.<br /> +<br /> +Wrapt in the wave of that music, with weariness more than of earth,<br /> +The moil of my centuries filled me; and gone like a sea-covered stone<br /> +Were the memories of the whole of my sorrow and the memories of the whole of my mirth,<br /> +And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.<br /> +<br /> +In the roots of the grasses, the sorrels, I laid my body as low;<br /> +And the pearl-pale Niam lay by me, her brow on the midst of my breast;<br /> +And the horse was gone in the distance, and years after years 'gan flow;<br /> +Square leaves of the ivy moved over us, binding us down to our rest.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span>And, man of the many white croziers, a century there I forgot;<br /> +How the fetlocks drip blood in the battle, when the fallen on fallen lie rolled;<br /> +How the falconer follows the falcon in the weeds of the heron's plot,<br /> +And the names of the demons whose hammers made armour for Conhor of old.<br /> +<br /> +And, man of the many white croziers, a century there I forgot;<br /> +That the spear-shaft is made out of ashwood, the shield out of ozier and hide;<br /> +How the hammers spring on the anvil, on the spearhead's burning spot;<br /> +How the slow, blue-eyed oxen of Finn low sadly at evening tide.<br /> +<br /> +But in dreams, mild man of the croziers, driving the dust with their throngs,<br /> +Moved round me, of seamen or landsmen, all who are winter tales;<br /> +Came by me the kings of the Red Branch, with roaring of laughter and songs,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span>Or moved as they moved once, love-making or piercing the tempest with sails.<br /> +<br /> +Came Blanid, Mac Nessa, tall Fergus who feastward of old time slunk,<br /> +Cook Barach, the traitor; and warward, the spittle on his beard never dry,<br /> +Dark Balor, as old as a forest, car borne, his mighty head sunk<br /> +Helpless, men lifting the lids of his weary and death-making eye.<br /> +<br /> +And by me, in soft red raiment, the Fenians moved in loud streams,<br /> +And Grania, walking and smiling, sewed with her needle of bone,<br /> +So lived I and lived not, so wrought I and wrought not, with creatures of dreams,<br /> +In a long iron sleep, as a fish in the water goes dumb as a stone.<br /> +<br /> +At times our slumber was lightened. When the sun was on silver or gold;<br /> +When brushed with the wings of the owls, in the dimness they love going by;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span>When a glow-worm was green on a grass leaf, lured from his lair in the mould;<br /> +Half wakening, we lifted our eyelids, and gazed on the grass with a sigh.<br /> +<br /> +So watched I when, man of the croziers, at the heel of a century fell,<br /> +Weak, in the midst of the meadow, from his miles in the midst of the air,<br /> +A starling like them that forgathered 'neath a moon waking white as a shell.<br /> +When the Fenians made foray at morning with Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair.<br /> +<br /> +I awoke: the strange horse without summons out of the distance ran,<br /> +Thrusting his nose to my shoulder; he knew in his bosom deep<br /> +That once more moved in my bosom the ancient sadness of man,<br /> +And that I would leave the immortals, their dimness, their dews dropping sleep.<br /> +<br /> +O, had you seen beautiful Niam grow white as the waters are white,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span>Lord of the croziers, you even had lifted your hands and wept:<br /> +But, the bird in my fingers, I mounted, remembering alone that delight<br /> +Of twilight and slumber were gone, and that hoofs impatiently stept.<br /> +<br /> +I cried, "O Niam! O white one! if only a twelve-houred day,<br /> +"I must gaze on the beard of Finn, and move where the old men and young<br /> +"In the Fenians' dwellings of wattle lean on the chessboards and play,<br /> +"Ah, sweet to me now were even bald Conan's slanderous tongue!<br /> +<br /> +"Like me were some galley forsaken far off in Meridian isle.<br /> +"Remembering its long-oared companions, sails turning to thread-bare rags;<br /> +"No more to crawl on the seas with long oars mile after mile,<br /> +"But to be amid shooting of flies and flowering of rushes and flags."<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span>Their motionless eyeballs of spirits grown mild with mysterious thought<br /> +Watched her those seamless faces from the valley's glimmering girth;<br /> +As she murmured, "O wandering Usheen, the strength of the bell-branch is naught,<br /> +"For there moves alive in your fingers the fluttering sadness of earth.<br /> +<br /> +"Then go through the lands in the saddle and see what the mortals do,<br /> +"And softly come to your Niam over the tops of the tide;<br /> +"But weep for your Niam, O Usheen, weep; for if only your shoe<br /> +"Brush lightly as haymouse earth's pebbles, you will come no more to my side.<br /> +<br /> +"O flaming lion of the world, O when will you turn to your rest?"<br /> +"I saw from a distant saddle; from the earth she made her moan;<br /> +"I would die like a small withered leaf in the autumn, for breast unto breast<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span>"We shall mingle no more, nor our gazes empty their sweetness lone.<br /> +<br /> +"In the isles of the farthest seas where only the spirits come.<br /> +"Were the winds less soft than the breath of a pigeon who sleeps on her nest,<br /> +"Nor lost in the star-fires and odours the sound of the sea's vague drum?<br /> +"O flaming lion of the world, O when will you turn to your rest?"<br /> +<br /> +The wailing grew distant; I rode by the woods of the wrinkling bark,<br /> +Where ever is murmurous dropping, old silence and that one sound;<br /> +For no live creatures live there, no weasels move in the dark;<br /> +In a reverie forgetful of all things, over the bubbling ground.<br /> +<br /> +And I rode by the plains of the sea's edge, where all is barren and gray,<br /> +Gray sands on the green of the grasses and over the dripping trees,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span>Dripping and doubling landward, as though they would hasten away,<br /> +Like an army of old men lounging for rest from the moan of the seas.<br /> +<br /> +And the winds made the sands on the sea's edge turning and turning go,<br /> +As my mind made the names of the Fenians. Far from the hazel and oak,<br /> +I rode away on the surges, where, high as the saddle bow,<br /> +Fled foam underneath me, and round me, a wandering and milky smoke.<br /> +<br /> +Long fled the foam-flakes around me, the winds fled out of the vast,<br /> +Snatching the bird in secret; nor knew I, embosomed apart,<br /> +When they froze the cloth on my body like armour riveted fast,<br /> +For Remembrance, lifting her leanness, keened in the gates of my heart.<br /> +<br /> +Till fattening the winds of the morning, an odour of new-mown hay<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span>Came, and my forehead fell low, and my tears like berries fell down;<br /> +Later a sound came, half lost in the sound of a shore far away,<br /> +From the great grass-barnacle calling, and later the shore-weeds brown.<br /> +<br /> +If I were as I once was, the strong hoofs crushing the sand and the shells,<br /> +Coming out of the sea as the dawn comes, a chaunt of love on my lips,<br /> +Not coughing, my head on my knees, and praying, and wroth with the bells,<br /> +I would leave no saint's head on his body from Rachlin to Bera of ships.<br /> +<br /> +Making way from the kindling surges, I rode on a bridle-path<br /> +Much wondering to see upon all hands, of wattles and woodwork made,<br /> +Your bell-mounted churches, and guardless the sacred cairn and the rath,<br /> +And a small and a feeble populace stooping with mattock and spade.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span>Or weeding or ploughing with faces a-shining with much-toil wet;<br /> +While in this place and that place, with bodies unglorious, their chieftains stood,<br /> +Awaiting in patience the straw-death, croziered one, caught in your net:<br /> +Went the laughter of scorn from my mouth like the roaring of wind in a wood.<br /> +<br /> +And because I went by them so huge and so speedy with eyes so bright,<br /> +Came after the hard gaze of youth, or an old man lifted his head:<br /> +And I rode and I rode, and I cried out, "The Fenians hunt wolves in the night,<br /> +So sleep thee by daytime." A voice cried, "The Fenians a long time are dead."<br /> +<br /> +A whitebeard stood hushed on the pathway, the flesh of his face as dried grass,<br /> +And in folds round his eyes and his mouth, he sad as a child without milk;<br /> +And the dreams of the islands were gone, and I knew how men sorrow and pass,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span>And their hound, and their horse, and their love, and their eyes that glimmer like silk.<br /> +<br /> +And wrapping my face in my hair, I murmured, "In old age they ceased";<br /> +And my tears were larger than berries, and I murmured, "Where white clouds lie spread<br /> +"On Crevroe or broad Knockfefin, with many of old they feast<br /> +"On the floors of the gods." He cried, "No, the gods a long time are dead."<br /> +<br /> +And lonely and longing for Niam, I shivered and turned me about,<br /> +The heart in me longing to leap like a grasshopper into her heart;<br /> +I turned and rode to the westward, and followed the sea's old shout<br /> +Till I saw where Maive lies sleeping till starlight and midnight part.<br /> +<br /> +And there at the foot of the mountain, two carried a sack full of sand,<br /> +They bore it with staggering and sweating, but fell with their burden at length:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span>Leaning down from the gem-studded saddle, I flung it five yards with my hand,<br /> +With a sob for men waxing so weakly, a sob for the Fenian's old strength.<br /> +<br /> +The rest you have heard of, O croziered one; how, when divided the girth,<br /> +I fell on the path, and the horse went away like a summer fly;<br /> +And my years three hundred fell on me, and I rose, and walked on the earth,<br /> +A creeping old man, full of sleep, with the spittle on his beard never dry.<br /> +<br /> +How the men of the sand-sack showed me a church with its belfry in air;<br /> +Sorry place, where for swing of the war-axe in my dim eyes the crozier gleams;<br /> +What place have Caolte and Conan, and Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair?<br /> +Speak, you too are old with your memories, an old man surrounded with dreams.</p> + +<p class="actor">S. PATRIC</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span>Where the flesh of the footsole clingeth on the burning stones is their place;<br /> +Where the demons whip them with wires on the burning stones of wide hell,<br /> +Watching the blessed ones move far off, and the smile on God's face,<br /> +Between them a gateway of brass, and the howl of the angels who fell.</p> + +<p class="actor">USHEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Put the staff in my hands; for I go to the Fenians, O cleric, to chaunt<br /> +The war-songs that roused them of old; they will rise, making clouds with their breath<br /> +Innumerable, singing, exultant; the clay underneath them shall pant,<br /> +And demons be broken in pieces, and trampled beneath them in death.<br /> +<br /> +And demons afraid in their darkness; deep horror of eyes and of wings,<br /> +Afraid their ears on the earth laid, shall listen and rise up and weep;<br /> +Hearing the shaking of shields and the quiver of stretched bowstrings,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span>Hearing hell loud with a murmur, as shouting and mocking we sweep.<br /> +<br /> +We will tear out the flaming stones, and batter the gateway of brass<br /> +And enter, and none sayeth "No" when there enters the strongly armed guest;<br /> +Make clean as a broom cleans, and march on as oxen move over young grass;<br /> +Then feast, making converse of wars, and of old wounds, and turn to our rest.</p> + +<p class="actor">S. PATRIC</p> + +<p class="speech">On the flaming stones, without refuge, the limbs of the Fenians are tost;<br /> +None war on the masters of Hell, who could break up the world in their rage;<br /> +But kneel and wear out the flags and pray for your soul that is lost<br /> +Through the demon love of its youth and its godless and passionate age.</p> + +<p class="actor">USHEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Ah, me! to be shaken with coughing and broken with old age and pain,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span>Without laughter, a show unto children, alone with remembrance and fear;<br /> +All emptied of purple hours as a beggar's cloak in the rain,<br /> +As a hay-cock out on the flood, or a wolf sucked under a weir.<br /> +<br /> +It were sad to gaze on the blessed and no man I loved of old there;<br /> +I throw down the chain of small stones! when life in my body has ceased,<br /> +I will go to Caolte, and Conan, and Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair,<br /> +And dwell in the house of the Fenians, be they in flames or at +feast.</p> + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span></p> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2> +<a name="GLOSSARY_AND_NOTES" id="GLOSSARY_AND_NOTES"></a> +GLOSSARY AND NOTES</h2> +</div> + + +<p><i>The Pronunciation of the Irish Words.</i>—When I wrote the +greater number of these poems I had hardly considered the +question seriously. I copied at times somebody's perhaps +fanciful phonetic spelling, and at times the ancient spelling as +I found it in some literal translation, pronouncing the words +always as they were spelt. I do not suppose I would have +defended this system at any time, but I do not yet know what +system to adopt. The modern pronunciation, which is usually +followed by those who spell the words phonetically, is certainly +unlike the pronunciation of the time when classical Irish literature +was written, and, so far as I know, no Irish scholar who +writes in English or French has made that minute examination +of the way the names come into the rhythms and measures of the +old poems which can alone discover the old pronunciation. A +French Celtic scholar gave me the pronunciation of a few names, +and told me that Mr. Whitley Stokes had written something about +the subject in German, but I am ignorant of German. If I ever +learn the old pronunciation, I will revise all these poems, but at +present I can only affirm that I have not treated my Irish names +as badly as the mediæval writers of the stories of King Arthur +treated their Welsh names.</p> + +<p><i>Mythological Gods and Heroes.</i>—I refer the reader for such +names as Balor and Finn and Usheen to Lady Gregory's +"Cuchulain of Muirthemne" and to her "Gods and Fighting +Men."</p> + +<p><i>The Ballad of Father Gilligan.</i>—A tradition among the people +of Castleisland, Kerry.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span></p> + +<p><i>The Ballad of Father O'Hart.</i>—This ballad is founded on +the story of a certain Father O'Hart, priest of Coloony, Sligo, +in the last century, as told by the present priest of Coloony +in his <i>History of Ballisodare and Kilvarnet</i>. The robbery +of the lands of Father O'Hart was a kind of robbery which +occurred but rarely during the penal laws. Catholics, forbidden +to own landed property, evaded the law by giving a Protestant +nominal possession of their estates. There are instances on +record in which poor men were nominal owners of immense +estates.</p> + +<p><i>The Ballad of the Foxhunter.</i>—Founded on an incident, probably +itself a Tipperary tradition, in Kickham's <i>Knockagow</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Bell-branch.</i>—A legendary branch whose shaking casts all men +into a sleep.</p> + +<p><i>The Countess Cathleen.</i>—I found the story of the Countess +Cathleen in what professed to be a collection of Irish folk-lore in +an Irish newspaper some years ago. I wrote to the compiler, +asking about its source, but got no answer, but have since heard +that it was translated from <i>Les Matinées de Timothè Trimm</i> a +good many years ago, and has been drifting about the Irish +press ever since. Léo Lespès gives it as an Irish story, and +though the editor of <i>Folklore</i> has kindly advertised for information, +the only Christian variant I know of is a Donegal tale, +given by Mr. Larminie in his <i>West Irish Folk Tales and +Romances</i>, of a woman who goes to hell for ten years to save +her husband, and stays there another ten, having been granted +permission to carry away as many souls as could cling to her +skirt. Léo Lespès may have added a few details, but I have no +doubt of the essential antiquity of what seems to me the most +impressive form of one of the supreme parables of the world. +The parable came to the Greeks in the sacrifice of Alcestis, but +her sacrifice was less overwhelming, less apparently irremediable. +Léo Lespès tells the story as follows:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span>—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>Ce que je vais vous dire est un récit du carême Irlandais. +Le boiteux, l'aveugle, le paralytique des rues de Dublin ou de +Limerick, vous le diraient mieux que moi, cher lecteur, si vous +alliez le leur demander, un sixpense d'argent à la main.—Il +n'est pas une jeune fille catholique à laquelle on ne l'ait appris +pendant les jours de préparation à la communion sainte, pas un +berger des bords de la Blackwater qui ne le puisse redire à la +veillée.</p> + +<p>Il y a bien longtemps qu'il apparut tout-à -coup dans la vielle +Irlande deux marchands inconnus dont personne n'avait ouï +parler, et qui parlaient néanmoins avec la plus grande perfection +la langue du pays. Leurs cheveux étaient noirs et ferrés avec +de l'or et leurs robes d'une grande magnificence.</p> + +<p>Tous deux semblaient avoir le même âge; ils paraissaient +être des hommes de cinquante ans, car leur barbe grisonnait un +peu.</p> + +<p>Or, à cette époque, comme aujourd'hui, l'Irlande était pauvre, +car le soleil avait été rare, et des récoltes presque nulles. Les +indigents ne savaient à quel sainte se vouer, et la misère devenait +de plus en plus terrible.</p> + +<p>Dans l'hôtellerie où descendirent les marchands fastueux on +chercha à pénétrer leurs desseins: mais ce fut en vain, ils +demeurèrent silencieux et discrets.</p> + +<p>Et pendant qu'ils demeurèrent dans l'hôtellerie, ils ne cessèrent +de compter et de recompter des sacs de pièces d'or, dont la vive +clarté s'apercevait à travers les vitres du logis.</p> + +<p>Gentlemen, leur dit l'hôtesse un jour, d'où vient que vous êtes +si opulents, et que, venus pour secourir la misère publique, vous +ne fassiez pas de bonnes œuvres?</p> + +<p>—Belle hôtesse, répondit l'un d'eux, nous n'avons pas voulu +aller au-devant d'infortunes honorables, dans la crainte d'être +trompés par des misères fictives: que la douleur frappe à la +porte, nous ouvrirons.</p> + +<p>Le lendemain, quand on sut qu'il existait deux opulents +étrangers prêts à prodiguer l'or, la foule assiégea leur logis; mais<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span> +les figures des gens qui en sortaient étaient bien diverses. Les +uns avaient la fierté dans le regard, les autres portaient la honte +au front. Les deux trafiquants achetaient des âmes pour le +démon. L'âme d'un vieillard valait vingt pièces d'or, pas un +penny de plus; car Satan avait eu le temps d'y former +hypothèque. L'âme d'une épose en valait cinquante quand +elle était jolie, ou cent quand elle était laide. L'âme d'une +jeune fille se payait des prix fous: les fleurs les plus belles et les +plus pures sont les plus chères.</p> + +<p>Pendant ce temps, il existait dans la ville un ange de beauté, +la comtesse Ketty O'Connor. Elle était l'idole du peuple, et +la providence des indigents. Dès qu'elle eut appris que des +mécréants profitaient de la misère publique pour dérober des +cœurs à Dieu, elle fit appeler son majordome.</p> + +<p>—Master Patrick, lui dit elle, combien ai-je de pièces d'or +dans mon coffre?</p> + +<p>—Cent mille.</p> + +<p>—Combien de bijoux?</p> + +<p>—Peur autant d'argent.</p> + +<p>—Combien de châteux, de bois et de terres?</p> + +<p>—Pour le double de ces sommes.</p> + +<p>—Eh bien! Patrick, vendez tout ce qui n'est pas or et +apportez-m'en le montant. Je ne veux garder à moi que ce +castel et le champ qui l'entoure.</p> + +<p>Deux jours après, les ordres de la pieuse Ketty étaient +exécutés et le trésor était distribué aux pauvres au fur et à mesure +de leurs besoins.</p> + +<p>Ceci ne faisait pas le compte, dit la tradition, des commis-voyageurs +du malin esprit, qui ne trouvaient plus d'âmes +à acheter.</p> + +<p>Aidés par un valet infâme, ils pénétrèrent dans la retraite de +la noble dame et lui dérobèrent le reste de son trésor ... en +vain lutta-t-elle de toutes ses forces pour sauver le contenu de +son coffre, les larrons diaboliques furent les plus forts. Si Ketty +avait eu les moyens de faire un signe de croix, ajoute la légende<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span> +Irlandaise, elle les eût mis en fuite, mais ses mains étaient +captives—Le larcin fut effectué. Alors les pauvres sollicitèrent +en vain près de Ketty dépouillée, elle ne pouvait plus secourir +leur misère;—elle les abandonnait à la tentation. Pourtant il +n'y avait plus que huit jours à passer pour que les grains et lea +fourrages arrivassent en abondance des pays d'Orient. Mais, +huit jours, c'était un siècle: huit jours nécessitaient une somme +immense pour subvenir aux exigences de la disette, et les +pauvres allaient ou expirer dans les angousses de la faim, ou, +reniant les saintes maximes de l'Evangile, vendre à vil prix leur +âme, le plus beau présent de la munificence du Seigneur tout-puissant.</p> + +<p>Et Ketty n'avait plus une obole, car elle avait abandonné son +châteux aux malheureux.</p> + +<p>Elle passa douze heures dans les larmes et le deuil, arrachant +ses cheveux couleur de soleil et meurtrissant son sein couleur du +lis: puis elle se leva résolue, animée par un vif sentiment de +désespoir.</p> + +<p>Elle se rendit chez les marchands d'âmes.</p> + +<p>—Que voulez-vous? dirent ils.</p> + +<p>—Vous achetez des âmes?</p> + +<p>—Oui, un peu malgré vous, n'est ce pas, sainte aux yeux de +saphir?</p> + +<p>—Aujourd'hui je viens vous proposer un marché, reprit +elle.</p> + +<p>—Lequel?</p> + +<p>—J'ai une âme a vendre; mais elle est chère.</p> + +<p>—Qu'importe si elle est précieuse? l'âme, comme le diamant, +s'apprécie à sa blancheur.</p> + +<p>—C'est la mienne, dit Ketty.</p> + +<p>Les deux envoyés de Satan tressaillirent. Leurs griffes +s'allongèrent sous leurs gants de cuir; leurs yeux gris étincelèrent—l'âme, +pure, immaculée, virginale de Ketty!... c'était +une acquisition inappréciable.</p> + +<p>—Gentille dame, combien voulez-vous?</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span></p> + +<p>—Cent cinquante mille écus d'or.</p> + +<p>—C'est fait, dirent les marchands: et ils tendirent à +Ketty un parchemin cacheté de noir, qu'elle signa en frissonnant.</p> + +<p>La somme lui fut comptée.</p> + +<p>Des qu'elle fut rentrée, elle dit au majordome:</p> + +<p>—Tenez, distribuez ceci. Avec la somme que je vous donne +les pauvres attendront la huitaine nécessaire et pas une de leurs +âmes ne sera livrée au démon.</p> + +<p>Puis elle s'enferma et recommanda qu'on ne vint pas la +déranger.</p> + +<p>Trois jours se passèrent; elle n'appela pas; elle ne sortit +pas.</p> + +<p>Quand on ouvrit sa porte, on la trouva raide et froide: elle +était morte de douleur.</p> + +<p>Mais la vente de cette âme si adorable dans sa charité fut +déclarée nulle par le Seigneur: car elle avait sauvé ses concitoyens +de la morte éternelle.</p> + +<p>Après la huitaine, des vaisseaux nombreux amenèrent à +l'Irlande affamée d'immenses provisions de grains.</p> + +<p>La famine n'était plus possible. Quant aux marchands, ils +disparurent de leur hôtellerie, sans qu'on sût jamais ce qu'ils +étaient devenus.</p> + +<p>Toutefois, les pêcheurs de la Blackwater prétendent qu'ils +sont enchainés dans une prison souterraine par ordre de +Lucifer jusqu'au moment où ils pourront livrer l'âme de Ketty +qui leur a échappé. Je vous dis la légende telle que je la sais.</p> + +<p>—Mais les pauvres l'ont raconté d'âge en âge et les enfants de +Cork et de Dublin chantent encore la ballade dont voici les +derniers couplets:—</p> + +<p> +Pour sauver les pauvres qu'elle aime<br /> +Ketty donna<br /> +Son esprit, sa croyance même:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span>Satan paya<br /> +Cette âme au dévoûment sublime,<br /> +En écus d'or,<br /> +Disons pour racheter son crime,<br /> +<i>Confiteor</i>.<br /> +<br /> +Mais l'ange qui se fit coupable<br /> +Par charité<br /> +Au séjour d'amour ineffable<br /> +Est remonté.<br /> +Satan vaincu n'eut pas de prise<br /> +Sur ce cœur d'or;<br /> +Chantons sous la nef de l'église,<br /> +<i>Confiteor</i>.</p> + +<p>N'est ce pas que ce récit, né de l'imagination des poètes +catholiques de la verte Erin, est une véritable récit de carême?</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><i>The Countess Cathleen</i> was acted in Dublin in 1899, with +Mr. Marcus St. John and Mr. Trevor Lowe as the First and +Second Demon, Mr. Valentine Grace as Shemus Rua, Master +Charles Sefton as Teig, Madame San Carola as Mary, Miss +Florence Farr as Aleel, Miss Anna Mather as Oona, Mr. +Charles Holmes as the Herdsman, Mr. Jack Wilcox as the +Gardener, Mr. Walford as a Peasant, Miss Dorothy Paget as a +Spirit, Miss M. Kelly as a Peasant Woman, Mr. T.E. Wilkinson +as a Servant, and Miss May Whitty as The Countess +Kathleen. They had to face a very vehement opposition stirred +up by a politician and a newspaper, the one accusing me in a +pamphlet, the other in long articles day after day, of blasphemy +because of the language of the demons or of Shemus Rua, and +because I made a woman sell her soul and yet escape damnation, +and of a lack of patriotism because I made Irish men and +women, who, it seems, never did such a thing, sell theirs. The +politician or the newspaper persuaded some forty Catholic +students to sign a protest against the play, and a Cardinal, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span> +avowed that he had not read it, to make another, and both +politician and newspaper made such obvious appeals to the +audience to break the peace, that a score or so of police were sent +to the theatre to see that they did not. I had, however, no +reason to regret the result, for the stalls, containing almost all +that was distinguished in Dublin, and a gallery of artisans alike +insisted on the freedom of literature.</p> + +<p>After the performance in 1899 I added the love scene between +Aleel and the Countess, and in this new form the play was +revived in New York by Miss Wycherley as well as being +played a good deal in England and America by amateurs. +Now at last I have made a complete revision to make it +suitable for performance at the Abbey Theatre. The first two +scenes are almost wholly new, and throughout the play I have +added or left out such passages as a stage experience of some +years showed me encumbered the action; the play in its first +form having been written before I knew anything of the theatre. +I have left the old end, however, in the version printed in the +body of this book, because the change for dramatic purposes +has been made for no better reason than that audiences—even +at the Abbey Theatre—are almost ignorant of Irish mythology—or +because a shallow stage made the elaborate vision of armed +angels upon a mountain-side impossible. The new end is +particularly suited to the Abbey stage, where the stage platform +can be brought out in front of the proscenium and have a flight +of steps at one side up which the Angel comes, crossing towards +the back of the stage at the opposite side. The principal lighting +is from two arc lights in the balcony which throw their +lights into the faces of the players, making footlights unnecessary. +The room at Shemus Rua's house is suggested by a great grey +curtain—a colour which becomes full of rich tints under the +stream of light from the arcs. The two or more arches in the third +scene permit the use of a gauze. The short front scene before +the last is just long enough when played with incidental music +to allow the scene set behind it to be changed. The play<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span> +when played without interval in this way lasts a little over +an hour.</p> + +<p>The play was performed at the Abbey Theatre for the first +time on December 14, 1911, Miss Maire O'Neill taking the part +of the Countess, and the last scene from the going out of the +Merchants was as follows:—</p> + +<p class="exposition">(<span class="smcap">MERCHANTS</span> <i>rush out</i>. <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>crawls into the middle of +the room; the twilight has fallen and gradually +darkens as the scene goes on</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">They're rising up—they're rising through the earth,<br /> +Fat Asmodel and giddy Belial,<br /> +And all the fiends. Now they leap in the air.<br /> +But why does Hell's gate creak so? Round and round.<br /> +Hither and hither, to and fro they're running.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He moves about as though the air was full of spirits.</i> <span class="smcap">OONA</span> +<i>enters</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">Crouch down, old heron, out of the blind storm.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Where is the Countess Cathleen? All this day<br /> +Her eyes were full of tears, and when for a moment<br /> +Her hand was laid upon my hand, it trembled.<br /> +And now I do not know where she is gone.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Cathleen has chosen other friends than us,<br /> +And they are rising through the hollow world.<br /> +Demons are out, old heron.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span><span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">God guard her soul.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">She's bartered it away this very hour,<br /> +As though we two were never in the world.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He kneels beside her, but does not seem to hear her words. +The</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>return. They carry the</i> <span class="smcap">COUNTESS +CATHLEEN</span> <i>and lay her upon the ground before</i> <span class="smcap">OONA</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span>. <i>She lies there as if dead.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">O, that so many pitchers of rough clay<br /> +Should prosper and the porcelain break in two!</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She kisses the hands of</i> <span class="smcap">CATHLEEN</span>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We were under the tree where the path turns<br /> +When she grew pale as death and fainted away.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">O, hold me, and hold me tightly, for the storm<br /> +Is dragging me away.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>takes her in her arms</i>. <span class="smcap">A woman</span> <i>begins to wail</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">PEASANTS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">PEASANTS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">PEASANT WOMEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">OTHER PEASANT WOMEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 19.5em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>half rising</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Lay all the bags of money in a heap,<br /> +And when I am gone, old Oona, share them out<br /> +To every man and woman: judge, and give<br /> +According to their needs.</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">And will she give</span><br /> +Enough to keep my children through the dearth?</p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">O, Queen of Heaven, and all you blessed saints,<br /> +Let us and ours be lost, so she be shriven.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Bend down your faces, Oona and Aleel;<br /> +I gaze upon them as the swallow gazes<br /> +Upon the nest under the eave, before<br /> +She wander the loud waters. Do not weep<br /> +Too great a while, for there is many a candle<br /> +On the High Altar though one fall. Aleel,<br /> +Who sang about the dancers of the woods,<br /> +That know not the hard burden of the world,<br /> +Having but breath in their kind bodies, farewell!<br /> +And farewell, Oona, you who played with me<br /> +And bore me in your arms about the house<br /> +When I was but a child—and therefore happy,<br /> +Therefore happy even like those that dance.<br /> +The storm is in my hair and I must go.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She dies.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Bring me the looking-glass.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">A woman</span> <i>brings it to her out of inner room</i>. <span class="smcap">OONA</span> +<i>holds glass over the lips of</i> <span class="smcap">CATHLEEN</span>. <i>All is silent +for a moment, then she speaks in a half-scream.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">O, she is dead!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">She was the great white lily of the world.</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">She was more beautiful than the pale stars.</p> + +<p class="actor">AN OLD PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">The little plant I loved is broken in two.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>takes looking-glass from</i> <span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>and flings it upon +floor, so that it is broken in many pieces</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">I shatter you in fragments, for the face<br /> +That brimmed you up with beauty is no more;<br /> +And die, dull heart, for you that were a mirror<br /> +Are but a ball of passionate dust again!<br /> +And level earth and plumy sea, rise up!<br /> +And haughty sky, fall down!</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">Pull him upon his knees,</span><br /> +His curses will pluck lightning on our heads.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span>Angels and devils clash in the middle air,<br /> +And brazen swords clang upon brazen helms.<br /> +Look, look, a spear has gone through Belial's eye!</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A winged</i> <span class="smcap">ANGEL</span>, <i>carrying a torch and a sword, enters +from the</i> <span class="smcap">R.</span> <i>with eyes fixed upon some distant +thing. The</i> <span class="smcap">ANGEL</span> <i>is about to pass out to the</i> <span class="smcap">L.</span> +<i>when</i> <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>speaks. The</i> <span class="smcap">ANGEL</span> <i>stops a moment and +turns</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">Look no more on the half-closed gates of Hell,<br /> +But speak to me whose mind is smitten of God,<br /> +That it may be no more with mortal things:<br /> +And tell of her who lies there.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">ANGEL</span> <i>turns again and is about to go, but is seized by</i> +<span class="smcap">ALEEL</span>.)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16em;">Till you speak</span><br /> +You shall not drift into eternity.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE ANGEL</p> + +<p class="speech">The light beats down; the gates of pearl are wide.<br /> +And she is passing to the floor of peace,<br /> +And Mary of the seven times wounded heart<br /> +Has kissed her lips, and the long blessed hair<br /> +Has fallen on her face; the Light of Lights<br /> +Looks always on the motive, not the deed,<br /> +The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>releases the</i> <span class="smcap">ANGEL</span> <i>and kneels</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Tell them to walk upon the floor of peace,<br /> +That I would die and go to her I love;<br /> +The years like great black oxen tread the world,<br /> +And God the herdsman goads them on behind,<br /> +And I am broken by their passing feet.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">312</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Down by the Salley Gardens.</i>—An extension of three lines +sung to me by an old woman at Ballisodare.</p> + +<p><i>Findrinny (Findruine).</i>—A kind of white bronze.</p> + +<p><i>Finvarra (Finbar).</i>—The king of the faeries of Connaught.</p> + +<p><i>Hell.</i>—In the older Irish books Hell is always cold, and it +may be because the Fomoroh, or evil powers, ruled over the +north and the winter. Christianity adopted as far as possible +the Pagan symbolism in Ireland as elsewhere, and Irish poets, +when they spoke of "the cold flagstone of Hell," may have +repeated Pagan symbolism. The folk-tales, and Keating in his +description of Hell, make use, however, of the ordinary symbolism +of fire.</p> + +<p><i>The Lamentation of the Pensioner.</i>—This poem is little more +than a translation into verse of the very words of an old Wicklow +peasant. Fret means doom or destiny.</p> + +<p><i>The Land of Heart's Desire.</i>—This little play was produced +at the Avenue Theatre in the spring of 1894, with the following +cast:—Maurteen Bruin, Mr. James Welch; Shawn Bruin, +Mr. A.E.W. Mason; Father Hart, Mr. G.R. Foss; +Bridget Bruin, Miss Charlotte Morland; Maire Bruin, Miss +Winifred Fraser; A Faery Child, Miss Dorothy Paget. It +ran for a little over six weeks. It was revived in America +in 1901, when it was taken on tour by Mrs. Lemoyne. +It has been played two or three times professionally since +then in America and a great many times in England and +America by amateurs. Till lately it was not part of the +repertory of the Abbey Theatre, for I had grown to dislike +it without knowing what I disliked in it. This winter, however, +I have made many revisions and now it plays well +enough to give me pleasure. It is printed in this book in +the new form, which was acted for the first time on February<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">313</a></span> +22, 1912, at the Abbey Theatre, Dublin. At the Abbey +Theatre, where the platform of the stage comes out in front +of the curtain, the curtain falls before the priest's last words. +He remains outside the curtain and the words are spoken to +the audience like an epilogue.</p> + +<p><i>The Meditation of the Old Fisherman.</i>—This poem is founded +upon some things a fisherman said to me when out fishing in +Sligo Bay.</p> + +<p><i>Northern Cold.</i>—The Fomor, the powers of death and +darkness and cold and evil, came from the north.</p> + +<p><i>Nuala.</i>—The wife of Finvarra.</p> + +<p><i>Rose.</i>—The rose is a favourite symbol with the Irish poets, +and has given a name to several poems both Gaelic and English, +and is used in love poems, in addresses to Ireland like Mr. +Aubrey de Vere's poem telling how "The little black rose shall +be red at last," and in religious poems, like the old Gaelic one +which speaks of "the Rose of Friday," meaning the Rose of +Austerity.</p> + +<p><i>Salley.</i>—Willow.</p> + +<p><i>Seven Hazel-trees.</i>—There was once a well overshadowed by +seven sacred hazel-trees, in the midst of Ireland. A certain +woman plucked their fruit, and seven rivers arose out of the well +and swept her away. In my poems this well is the source of all +the waters of this world, which are therefore seven-fold.</p> + +<p><i>The Wanderings of Usheen.</i>—The poem is founded upon the +middle Irish dialogues of S. Patric and Usheen and a certain +Gaelic poem of the last century. The events it describes, like +the events in most of the poems in this volume, are supposed +to have taken place rather in the indefinite period, made up of +many periods, described by the folk-tales, than in any particular<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">314</a></span> +century; it therefore, like the later Fenian stories themselves, +mixes much that is mediæval with much that is ancient. The +Gaelic poems do not make Usheen go to more than one island, +but a story in <i>Silva Gadelica</i> describes "four paradises," an island +to the north, an island to the west, an island to the south, and +Adam's paradise in the east.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">315</a></span></p> + +<p class="center p6"> +<i>Printed in Great Britain by</i><br /> +<br /> +UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED<br /> +WOKING AND LONDON</p> + +<p class="transnote">Transcriber's Notes:<br /> +Page 16: 'thictkes' changed to 'thickets'<br /> +Page 172: 'He brings in' could be 'She brings in'<br /> +Page 263: 'Before this duy' changed to 'Before this day'<br /> +Page 290: 'Far from the hazel and oak.' changed to 'Far from the hazel and oak,'<br /> +Page 295: 'move far off' could be 'move far oft'</p> + + + + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT +GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS, by W. B. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..598f3d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #38877 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38877) diff --git a/old/38877-8.txt b/old/38877-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3c235f5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/38877-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7725 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by W. B. Yeats + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poems + +Author: W. B. Yeats + +Release Date: February 14, 2012 [EBook #38877] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Irma Špehar, Rory OConor and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + + + + + + + POEMS + + + EVERY IRISHMAN'S LIBRARY + + _Cr. 8vo., cloth, 3s. 6d. net each. With Frontispieces._ + + LIST OF VOLUMES + + 1. Thomas Davis. SELECTIONS FROM HIS PROSE + AND POETRY. Edited by T.W. ROLLESTON, + M.A. (Dublin). + + 2. Wild Sports of the West. By W.H. MAXWELL. + Edited by the EARL OF DUNRAVEN. + + 3. Legends of Saints and Sinners from the + Irish. Edited by DOUGLAS HYDE, LL.D. + (Dublin). + + 4. The Book of Irish Humour. Edited by + CHARLES L. GRAVES, M.A. (Oxon.). + + 5. Irish Orators and Oratory. With an Introduction + by Professor T.M. KETTLE, M.P. + + 6. The Book of Irish Poetry. Edited by ALFRED + PERCEVAL GRAVES, M.A. (Dublin). + + 7. Standish O'Grady. SELECTED ESSAYS AND + PASSAGES. Edited by ERNEST A. BOYD. + + 8. Recollections of Jonah Barrington. Edited + by GEORGE A. BIRMINGHAM. + + 9. Poems of Sir Samuel Ferguson. Edited by + ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES, M.A. + + 10. Carleton's Stories of Irish Life. With an + Introduction by DARRELL FIGGIS. + + 11. The Collegians. By GERALD GRIFFIN. With + Introduction by PADRAIC COLUM. + + 12. Maria Edgeworth: SELECTIONS FROM HER + WORKS. With an Introduction by MALCOLM + COTTER SETON, M.A. + + T. FISHER UNWIN LTD., LONDON + + + [Illustration: Signature: WB Yeats] + + + + + POEMS + + BY + + W.B. YEATS + + LONDON + T. FISHER UNWIN LTD. + ADELPHI TERRACE + + +"The Wanderings of Oisin" was published with the lyrics now collected +under the title "Crossways" in 1888, "The Countess Cathleen" with the +lyrics now collected under the title "The Rose" in 1892, and "The Land +of Heart's Desire" by itself in 1894. They were revised and reprinted in +one volume in 1895, again revised and reprinted in 1899, and again +reprinted in 1901, 1904, 1908, 1912, 1913, 1919, and 1920. + +(_All rights reserved_) + + + + +PREFACE + + +During the last year I have spent much time altering "The Countess +Cathleen" and "The Land of Heart's Desire" that they might be a part of +the repertory of the Abbey Theatre. I had written them before I had any +practical experience, and I knew from the performance of the one in +Dublin in 1899 and of the other in London in 1894 that they were full of +defects. But in their new shape--and each play has been twice played +during the winter--they have given me some pleasure, and are, I think, +easier to play effectively than my later plays, depending less upon the +players and more upon the producer, both having been imagined more for +variety of stage-picture than variety of mood in the player. It was, +indeed, the first performance of "The Countess Cathleen," when our +stage-pictures were made out of poor conventional scenery and hired +costumes, that set me writing plays where all would depend upon the +player. The first two scenes are wholly new, and though I have left the +old end in the body of this book I have given in the notes an end less +difficult to producer and audience, and there are slight alterations +elsewhere in the poem. "The Land of Heart's Desire," besides some +mending in the details, has been thrown back in time because the +metrical speech would have sounded unreal if spoken in a country cottage +now that we have so many dialect comedies. The shades of Mrs. Fallan and +Mrs. Dillane and of Dan Bourke and the Tramp would have seemed too +boisterous or too vivid for shades made cold and distant with the +artifice of verse. + +I have not again retouched the lyric poems of my youth, fearing some +stupidity in my middle years, but have changed two or three pages that I +always knew to be wrong in "The Wanderings of Usheen." + + W.B. YEATS. + + _June, 1912._ + + + + +PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION + + +I have added some passages to "The Land of Heart's Desire," and a new +scene of some little length, besides passages here and there, to "The +Countess Cathleen." The goddess has never come to me with her hands so +full that I have not found many waste places after I had planted all +that she had brought me. The present version of "The Countess Cathleen" +is not quite the version adopted by the Irish Literary Theatre a couple +of years ago, for our stage and scenery were capable of little; and it +may differ more from any stage version I make in future, for it seems +that my people of the waters and my unhappy dead, in the third act, +cannot keep their supernatural essence, but must put on too much of our +mortality, in any ordinary theatre. I am told that I must abandon a +meaning or two and make my merchants carry away the treasure +themselves. The act was written long ago, when I had seen so few plays +that I took pleasure in stage effects. Indeed, I am not yet certain that +a wealthy theatre could not shape it to an impressive pageantry, or that +a theatre without any wealth could not lift it out of pageantry into the +mind, with a dim curtain, and some dimly lighted players, and the +beautiful voices that should be as important in poetical as in musical +drama. The Elizabethan stage was so little imprisoned in material +circumstance that the Elizabethan imagination was not strained by god or +spirit, nor even by Echo herself--no, not even when she answered, as in +"The Duchess of Malfi," in clear, loud words which were not the words +that had been spoken to her. We have made a prison-house of paint and +canvas, where we have as little freedom as under our own roofs, for +there is no freedom in a house that has been made with hands. All art +moves in the cave of the Chimæra, or in the garden of the Hesperides, or +in the more silent house of the gods, and neither cave, nor garden, nor +house can show itself clearly but to the mind's eye. + +Besides rewriting a lyric or two, I have much enlarged the note on "The +Countess Cathleen," as there has been some discussion in Ireland about +the origin of the story, but the other notes are as they have always +been. They are short enough, but I do not think that anybody who knows +modern poetry will find obscurities in this book. In any case, I must +leave my myths and symbols to explain themselves as the years go by and +one poems lights up another, and the stories that friends, and one +friend in particular, have gathered for me, or that I have gathered +myself in many cottages, find their way into the light. I would, if I +could, add to that majestic heraldry of the poets, that great and +complicated inheritance of images which written literature has +substituted for the greater and more complex inheritance of spoken +tradition, some new heraldic images, gathered from the lips of the +common people. Christianity and the old nature faith have lain down side +by side in the cottages, and I would proclaim that peace as loudly as I +can among the kingdoms of poetry, where there is no peace that is not +joyous, no battle that does not give life instead of death; I may even +try to persuade others, in more sober prose, that there can be no +language more worthy of poetry and of the meditation of the soul than +that which has been made, or can be made, out of a subtlety of desire, +an emotion of sacrifice, a delight in order, that are perhaps +Christian, and myths and images that mirror the energies of woods and +streams, and of their wild creatures. Has any part of that majestic +heraldry of the poets had a very different fountain? Is it not the +ritual of the marriage of heaven and earth? + +These details may seem to many unnecessary; but after all one writes +poetry for a few careful readers and for a few friends, who will not +consider such details unnecessary. When Cimabue had the cry it was, it +seems, worth thinking of those that run; but to-day, when they can write +as well as read, one can sit with one's companions under the hedgerow +contentedly. If one writes well and has the patience, somebody will come +from among the runners and read what one has written quickly, and go +away quickly, and write out as much as he can remember in the language +of the highway. + + W.B. YEATS. + + _January, 1901._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + +THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN 1 + +THE ROSE-- + + To the Rose upon the Rood of Time 109 + + Fergus and the Druid 111 + + The Death of Cuchulain 114 + + The Rose of the World 119 + + The Rose of Peace 120 + + The Rose of Battle 121 + + A Faery Song 123 + + The Lake Isle of Innisfree 124 + + A Cradle Song 125 + + The Pity of Love 126 + + The Sorrow of Love 127 + + When You are Old 128 + + The White Birds 129 + + A Dream of Death 131 + + A Dream of a Blessed Spirit 132 + + Who goes with Fergus 133 + + The Man who Dreamed of Faeryland 134 + + The Dedication to a Book of Stories selected from + the Irish Novelists 137 + + The Lamentation of the Old Pensioner 139 + + The Ballad of Father Gilligan 140 + + The Two Trees 143 + + To Ireland in the Coming Times 145 + +THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE 149 + +CROSSWAYS-- + + The Song of the Happy Shepherd 197 + + The Sad Shepherd 200 + + The Cloak, The Boat, and the Shoes 202 + + Anashuya and Vijaya 203 + + The Indian upon God 209 + + The Indian to his Love 211 + + The Falling of the Leaves 213 + + Ephemera 214 + + The Madness of King Goll 216 + + The Stolen Child 220 + + To an Isle in the Water 223 + + Down by the Salley Gardens 224 + + The Meditation of the Old Fisherman 225 + + The Ballad of Father O'Hart 226 + + The Ballad of Moll Magee 229 + + The Ballad of the Foxhunter 232 + +THE WANDERINGS OF USHEEN 235 + +GLOSSARY AND NOTES 299 + + +_TO SOME I HAVE TALKED WITH BY THE FIRE_ + + + _While I wrought out these fitful Danaan rhymes, + My heart would brim with dreams about the times + When we bent down above the fading coals; + And talked of the dark folk, who live in souls + Of passionate men, like bats in the dead trees; + And of the wayward twilight companies, + Who sigh with mingled sorrow and content, + Because their blossoming dreams have never bent + Under the fruit of evil and of good: + And of the embattled flaming multitude + Who rise, wing above wing, flame above flame, + And, like a storm, cry the Ineffable Name, + And with the clashing of their sword blades make + A rapturous music, till the morning break, + And the white hush end all, but the loud beat + Of their long wings, the flash of their white feet._ + + + + +THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN + + + "The sorrowful are dumb for thee" + +_Lament of Morion Shehone for Miss Mary Bourke_ + + +TO + +MAUD GONNE + + + SHEMUS RUA A Peasant + + MARY His Wife + + TEIG His Son + + ALEEL A Poet + + THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN + + OONA Her Foster Mother + + Two Demons disguised as Merchants + + Peasants, Servants, Angelical Beings + + +_The Scene is laid in Ireland and in old times_ + + + + +SCENE I + + + SCENE.--_A room with lighted fire, and a door into the open air, + through which one sees, perhaps, the trees of a wood, and these + trees should be painted in flat colour upon a gold or diapered sky. + The walls are of one colour. The scent should have the effect of + missal painting._ MARY, a_ woman of forty years or so, is grinding + a quern_. + + + MARY + + What can have made the grey hen flutter so? + +(TEIG, _a boy of fourteen, is coming in with turf, which he lays beside +the hearth_.) + + TEIG + + They say that now the land is famine struck + The graves are walking. + + MARY + + There is something that the hen hears. + + TEIG + + And that is not the worst; at Tubber-vanach + A woman met a man with ears spread out, + And they moved up and down like a bat's wing. + + MARY + + What can have kept your father all this while? + + TEIG + + Two nights ago, at Carrick-orus churchyard, + A herdsman met a man who had no mouth, + Nor eyes, nor ears; his face a wall of flesh; + He saw him plainly by the light of the moon. + + MARY + + Look out, and tell me if your father's coming. + +(TEIG _goes to door_.) + + TEIG + + Mother! + + MARY + + What is it? + + TEIG + + In the bush beyond, + There are two birds--if you can call them birds-- + I could not see them rightly for the leaves. + But they've the shape and colour of horned owls + And I'm half certain they've a human face. + + MARY + + Mother of God, defend us! + + TEIG + + They're looking at me. + What is the good of praying? father says. + God and the Mother of God have dropped asleep. + What do they care, he says, though the whole land + Squeal like a rabbit under a weasel's tooth? + + MARY + + You'll bring misfortune with your blasphemies + Upon your father, or yourself, or me. + I would to God he were home--ah, there he is. + +(SHEMUS _comes in_.) + + What was it kept you in the wood? You know + I cannot get all sorts of accidents + Out of my mind till you are home again. + + SHEMUS + + I'm in no mood to listen to your clatter. + Although I tramped the woods for half a day, + I've taken nothing, for the very rats, + Badgers, and hedgehogs seem to have died of drought, + And there was scarce a wind in the parched leaves. + + TEIG + + Then you have brought no dinner. + + SHEMUS + + After that + I sat among the beggars at the cross-roads, + And held a hollow hand among the others. + + MARY + + What, did you beg? + + SHEMUS + + I had no chance to beg, + For when the beggars saw me they cried out + They would not have another share their alms, + And hunted me away with sticks and stones. + + TEIG + + You said that you would bring us food or money. + + SHEMUS + + What's in the house? + + TEIG + + A bit of mouldy bread. + + MARY + + There's flour enough to make another loaf. + + TEIG + + And when that's gone? + + MARY + + There is the hen in the coop. + + SHEMUS + + My curse upon the beggars, my curse upon them! + + TEIG + + And the last penny gone. + + SHEMUS + + When the hen's gone, + What can we do but live on sorrel and dock, + And dandelion, till our mouths are green? + + MARY + + God, that to this hour's found bit and sup, + Will cater for us still. + + SHEMUS + + His kitchen's bare. + There were five doors that I looked through this day + And saw the dead and not a soul to wake them. + + MARY + + Maybe He'd have us die because He knows, + When the ear is stopped and when the eye is stopped, + That every wicked sight is hid from the eye, + And all fool talk from the ear. + + SHEMUS + + Who's passing there? + And mocking us with music? + +(_A stringed instrument without._) + + TEIG + + A young man plays it, + There's an old woman and a lady with him. + + SHEMUS + + What is the trouble of the poor to her? + Nothing at all or a harsh radishy sauce + For the day's meat. + + MARY + + God's pity on the rich. + Had we been through as many doors, and seen + The dishes standing on the polished wood + In the wax candle light, we'd be as hard, + And there's the needle's eye at the end of all. + + SHEMUS + + My curse upon the rich. + + TEIG + + They're coming here. + + SHEMUS + + Then down upon that stool, down quick, I say, + And call up a whey face and a whining voice, + And let your head be bowed upon your knees. + + MARY + + Had I but time to put the place to rights. + +(CATHLEEN, OONA, _and_ ALEEL _enter_.) + + CATHLEEN + + God save all here. There is a certain house, + An old grey castle with a kitchen garden, + A cider orchard and a plot for flowers, + Somewhere among these woods. + + MARY + + We know it, lady. + A place that's set among impassable walls + As though world's trouble could not find it out. + + CATHLEEN + + It may be that we are that trouble, for we-- + Although we've wandered in the wood this hour-- + Have lost it too, yet I should know my way, + For I lived all my childhood in that house. + + MARY + + Then you are Countess Cathleen? + + CATHLEEN + + And this woman, + Oona, my nurse, should have remembered it, + For we were happy for a long time there. + + OONA + + The paths are overgrown with thickets now, + Or else some change has come upon my sight. + + CATHLEEN + + And this young man, that should have known the woods-- + Because we met him on their border but now, + Wandering and singing like a wave of the sea-- + Is so wrapped up in dreams of terrors to come + That he can give no help. + + MARY + + You have still some way, + But I can put you on the trodden path + Your servants take when they are marketing. + But first sit down and rest yourself awhile, + For my old fathers served your fathers, lady, + Longer than books can tell--and it were strange + If you and yours should not be welcome here. + + CATHLEEN + + And it were stranger still were I ungrateful + For such kind welcome--but I must be gone, + For the night's gathering in. + + SHEMUS + + It is a long while + Since I've set eyes on bread or on what buys it. + + CATHLEEN + + So you are starving even in this wood, + Where I had thought I would find nothing changed. + But that's a dream, for the old worm o' the world + Can eat its way into what place it pleases. + +(_She gives money._) + + TEIG + + Beautiful lady, give me something too; + I fell but now, being weak with hunger and thirst + And lay upon the threshold like a log. + + CATHLEEN + + I gave for all and that was all I had. + Look, my purse is empty. I have passed + By starving men and women all this day, + And they have had the rest; but take the purse, + The silver clasps on't may be worth a trifle. + But if you'll come to-morrow to my house + You shall have twice the sum. + +(ALEEL _begins to play_.) + + SHEMUS (_muttering_) + + What, music, music! + + CATHLEEN + + Ah, do not blame the finger on the string; + The doctors bid me fly the unlucky times + And find distraction for my thoughts, or else + Pine to my grave. + + SHEMUS + + I have said nothing, lady. + Why should the like of us complain? + + OONA + + Have done. + Sorrows that she's but read of in a book + Weigh on her mind as if they had been her own. + +(OONA, MARY, and CATHLEEN _go out_. ALEEL _looks defiantly at_ SHEMUS.) + + ALEEL (_singing_) + + Were I but crazy for love's sake + I know who'd measure out his length, + I know the heads that I should break, + For crazy men have double strength. + There! all's out now to leave or take, + And who mocks music mocks at love; + And when I'm crazy for love's sake + I'll not go far to choose. + +(_Snapping his fingers in_ SHEMUS' _face_.) + + Enough! + I know the heads that I shall break. + +(_He takes a step towards the door and then turns again._) + + Shut to the door before the night has fallen, + For who can say what walks, or in what shape + Some devilish creature flies in the air, but now + Two grey-horned owls hooted above our heads. + +(_He goes out, his singing dies away._ MARY _comes in_. SHEMUS _has been +counting the money._) + + SHEMUS + + So that fool's gone. + + TEIG + + He's seen the horned owls too. + There's no good luck in owls, but it may be + That the ill luck's to fall upon his head. + + MARY + + You never thanked her ladyship. + + SHEMUS + + Thank her, + For seven halfpence and a silver bit? + + TEIG + + But for this empty purse? + + SHEMUS + + What's that for thanks, + Or what's the double of it that she promised? + With bread and flesh and every sort of food + Up to a price no man has heard the like of + And rising every day. + + MARY + + We have all she had; + She emptied out the purse before our eyes. + + SHEMUS (_to_ MARY, _who has gone to close the door_) + + Leave that door open. + + MARY + + When those that have read books, + And seen the seven wonders of the world, + Fear what's above or what's below the ground, + It's time that poverty should bolt the door. + + SHEMUS + + I'll have no bolts, for there is not a thing + That walks above the ground or under it + I had not rather welcome to this house + Than any more of mankind, rich or poor. + + TEIG + + So that they brought us money. + + SHEMUS + + I heard say + There's something that appears like a white bird, + A pigeon or a seagull or the like, + But if you hit it with a stone or a stick + It clangs as though it had been made of brass, + And that if you dig down where it was scratching + You'll find a crock of gold. + + TEIG + + But dream of gold + For three nights running, and there's always gold. + + SHEMUS + + You might be starved before you've dug it out. + + TEIG + + But maybe if you called, something would come, + They have been seen of late. + + MARY + + Is it call devils? + Call devils from the wood, call them in here? + + SHEMUS + + So you'd stand up against me, and you'd say + Who or what I am to welcome here. (_He hits her._) + That is to show who's master. + + TEIG + + Call them in. + + MARY + + God help us all! + + SHEMUS + + Pray, if you have a mind to. + It's little that the sleepy ears above + Care for your words; but I'll call what I please. + + TEIG + + There is many a one, they say, had money from them. + + SHEMUS (_at door_) + + Whatever you are that walk the woods at night, + So be it that you have not shouldered up + Out of a grave--for I'll have nothing human-- + And have free hands, a friendly trick of speech, + I welcome you. Come, sit beside the fire. + What matter if your head's below your arms + Or you've a horse's tail to whip your flank, + Feathers instead of hair, that's but a straw, + Come, share what bread and meat is in the house, + And stretch your heels and warm them in the ashes. + And after that, let's share and share alike + And curse all men and women. Come in, come in. + What, is there no one there? (_Turning from door_) + And yet they say + They are as common as the grass, and ride + Even upon the book in the priest's hand. + + (TEIG _lifts one arm slowly and points toward the door and begins + moving backwards_. SHEMUS _turns, he also sees something and begins + moving backward_. MARY _does the same. A man dressed as an Eastern + merchant comes in carrying a small carpet. He unrolls it and sits + cross-legged at one end of it. Another man dressed in the same way + follows, and sits at the other end. This is done slowly and + deliberately. When they are seated they take money out of + embroidered purses at their girdles and begin arranging it on the + carpet_.) + + TEIG + + You speak to them. + + SHEMUS + + No, you. + + TEIG + + 'Twas you that called them. + + SHEMUS (_coming nearer_) + + I'd make so bold, if you would pardon it, + To ask if there's a thing you'd have of us. + Although we are but poor people, if there is, + Why, if there is---- + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We've travelled a long road, + For we are merchants that must tramp the world, + And now we look for supper and a fire + And a safe corner to count money in. + + SHEMUS + + I thought you were ... but that's no matter now-- + There had been words between my wife and me + Because I said I would be master here, + And ask in what I pleased or who I pleased + And so.... but that is nothing to the point, + Because it's certain that you are but merchants. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We travel for the Master of all merchants. + + SHEMUS + + Yet if you were that I had thought but now + I'd welcome you no less. Be what you please + And you'll have supper at the market rate, + That means that what was sold for but a penny + Is now worth fifty. + +(MERCHANTS _begin putting money on carpet_.) + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Our Master bids us pay + So good a price, that all who deal with us + Shall eat, drink, and be merry. + + SHEMUS (_to_ MARY) + + Bestir yourself, + Go kill and draw the fowl, while Teig and I + Lay out the plates and make a better fire. + + MARY + + I will not cook for you. + + SHEMUS + + Not cook! not cook! + Do not be angry. She wants to pay me back + Because I struck her in that argument. + But she'll get sense again. Since the dearth came + We rattle one on another as though we were + Knives thrown into a basket to be cleaned. + + MARY + + I will not cook for you, because I know + In what unlucky shape you sat but now + Outside this door. + + TEIG + + It's this, your honours: + Because of some wild words my father said + She thinks you are not of those who cast a shadow. + + SHEMUS + + I said I'd make the devils of the wood + Welcome, if they'd a mind to eat and drink; + But it is certain that you are men like us. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + It's strange that she should think we cast no shadow, + For there is nothing on the ridge of the world + That's more substantial than the merchants are + That buy and sell you. + + MARY + + If you are not demons, + And seeing what great wealth is spread out there, + Give food or money to the starving poor. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + If we knew how to find deserving poor + We'd do our share. + + MARY + + But seek them patiently. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We know the evils of mere charity. + + MARY + + Those scruples may befit a common time. + I had thought there was a pushing to and fro, + At times like this, that overset the scale + And trampled measure down. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + But if already + We'd thought of a more prudent way than that? + + SECOND MERCHANT + + If each one brings a bit of merchandise, + We'll give him such a price he never dreamt of. + + MARY + + Where shall the starving come at merchandise? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We will ask nothing but what all men have. + + MARY + + Their swine and cattle, fields and implements + Are sold and gone. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + They have not sold all yet. + For there's a vaporous thing--that may be nothing, + But that's the buyer's risk--a second self, + They call immortal for a story's sake. + + SHEMUS + + They come to buy our souls? + + TEIG + + I'll barter mine. + Why should we starve for what may be but nothing? + + MARY + + Teig and Shemus---- + + SHEMUS + + What can it be but nothing? + What has God poured out of His bag but famine? + Satan gives money. + + TEIG + + Yet no thunder stirs. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + There is a heap for each. + +(SHEMUS _goes to take money_.) + + But no, not yet, + For there's a work I have to set you to. + + SHEMUS + + So then you're as deceitful as the rest, + And all that talk of buying what's but a vapour + Is fancy bread. I might have known as much, + Because that's how the trick-o'-the-loop man talks. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + That's for the work, each has its separate price; + But neither price is paid till the work's done. + + TEIG + + The same for me. + + MARY + + Oh, God, why are you still? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + You've but to cry aloud at every cross-road, + At every house door, that we buy men's souls. + And give so good a price that all may live + In mirth and comfort till the famine's done, + Because we are Christian men. + + SHEMUS + + Come, let's away. + + TEIG + + I shall keep running till I've earned the price. + + SECOND MERCHANT + +(_who has risen and gone towards fire_) + + Stop; you must have proof behind the words. + So here's your entertainment on the road. + +(_He throws a bag of money on the ground._) + + Live as you please; our Master's generous. + +(TEIG and SHEMUS _have stopped_. TEIG _takes the money. They go out._) + + MARY + + Destroyers of souls, God will destroy you quickly. + You shall at last dry like dry leaves and hang + Nailed like dead vermin to the doors of God. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Curse to your fill, for saints will have their dreams. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Though we're but vermin that our Master sent + To overrun the world, he at the end + Shall pull apart the pale ribs of the moon + And quench the stars in the ancestral night. + + MARY + + God is all powerful. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Pray, you shall need Him. + You shall eat dock and grass, and dandelion, + Till that low threshold there becomes a wall, + And when your hands can scarcely drag your body + We shall be near you. + +(MARY _faints_.) + +(_The_ FIRST MERCHANT _takes up the carpet, spreads it before the fire +and stands in front of it warming his hands_.) + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Our faces go unscratched, + Wring the neck o' that fowl, scatter the flour + And look if there is bread upon the shelves. + We'll turn the fowl upon the spit and roast it, + And eat the supper we were bidden to, + Now that the house is quiet, praise our Master, + And stretch and warm our heels among the ashes. + +END OF SCENE I. + + + + +SCENE II + + + FRONT SCENE.--_A wood with perhaps distant view of turreted house + at one side, but all in flat colour, without light and shade and + against a diapered or gold background._ + +COUNTESS CATHLEEN _comes in leaning upon_ ALEEL'S _arm_. OONA _follows +them_. + + CATHLEEN (_stopping_) + + Surely this leafy corner, where one smells + The wild bee's honey, has a story too? + + OONA + + There is the house at last. + + ALEEL + + A man, they say, + Loved Maeve the Queen of all the invisible host, + And died of his love nine centuries ago. + And now, when the moon's riding at the full, + She leaves her dancers lonely and lies there + Upon that level place, and for three days + Stretches and sighs and wets her long pale cheeks. + + CATHLEEN + + So she loves truly. + + ALEEL + + No, but wets her cheeks, + Lady, because she has forgot his name. + + CATHLEEN + + She'd sleep that trouble away--though it must be + A heavy trouble to forget his name-- + If she had better sense. + + OONA + + Your own house, lady. + + ALEEL + + She sleeps high up on wintry Knock-na-rea + In an old cairn of stones; while her poor women + Must lie and jog in the wave if they would sleep-- + Being water born--yet if she cry their names + They run up on the land and dance in the moon + Till they are giddy and would love as men do, + And be as patient and as pitiful. + But there is nothing that will stop in their heads + They've such poor memories, though they weep for it. + Oh, yes, they weep; that's when the moon is full. + + CATHLEEN + + Is it because they have short memories + They live so long? + + ALEEL + + What's memory but the ash + That chokes our fires that have begun to sink? + And they've a dizzy, everlasting fire. + + OONA + + There is your own house, lady. + + CATHLEEN + + Why, that's true, + And we'd have passed it without noticing. + + ALEEL + + A curse upon it for a meddlesome house! + Had it but stayed away I would have known + What Queen Maeve thinks on when the moon is pinched; + And whether now--as in the old days--the dancers + Set their brief love on men. + + OONA + + Rest on my arm. + These are no thoughts for any Christian ear. + + ALEEL + + I am younger, she would be too heavy for you. + +(_He begins taking his lute out of the bag_, CATHLEEN, _who has turned +towards_ OONA, _turns back to him_.) + + This hollow box remembers every foot + That danced upon the level grass of the world, + And will tell secrets if I whisper to it. + +(_Sings._) + + Lift up the white knee; + Hear what they sing, + Those young dancers + That in a ring + Raved but now + Of the hearts that brake + Long, long ago + For their sake. + + OONA + + New friends are sweet. + + ALEEL + + "But the dance changes. + Lift up the gown, + All that sorrow + Is trodden down." + + OONA + + The empty rattle-pate! Lean on this arm, + That I can tell you is a christened arm, + And not like some, if we are to judge by speech. + But as you please. It is time I was forgot. + Maybe it is not on this arm you slumbered + When you were as helpless as a worm. + + ALEEL + + Stay with me till we come to your own house. + + CATHLEEN (_sitting down_) + + When I am rested I will need no help. + + ALEEL + + I thought to have kept her from remembering + The evil of the times for full ten minutes; + But now when seven are out you come between. + + OONA + + Talk on; what does it matter what you say, + For you have not been christened? + + ALEEL + + Old woman, old woman, + You robbed her of three minutes peace of mind, + And though you live unto a hundred years, + And wash the feet of beggars and give alms, + And climb Croaghpatrick, you shall not be pardoned. + + OONA + + How does a man who never was baptized + Know what Heaven pardons? + + ALEEL + + You are a sinful woman. + + OONA + + I care no more than if a pig had grunted. + +(_Enter_ CATHLEEN'S _Steward_.) + + STEWARD + + I am not to blame, for I had locked the gate, + The forester's to blame. The men climbed in + At the east corner where the elm-tree is. + + CATHLEEN + + I do not understand you, who has climbed? + + STEWARD + + Then God be thanked, I am the first to tell you. + I was afraid some other of the servants-- + Though I've been on the watch--had been the first, + And mixed up truth and lies, your ladyship. + + CATHLEEN (_rising_) + + Has some misfortune happened? + + STEWARD + + Yes, indeed. + The forester that let the branches lie + Against the wall's to blame for everything, + For that is how the rogues got into the garden. + + CATHLEEN + + I thought to have escaped misfortune here. + Has any one been killed? + + STEWARD + + Oh, no, not killed. + They have stolen half a cart-load of green cabbage. + + CATHLEEN + + But maybe they were starving. + + STEWARD + + That is certain. + To rob or starve, that was the choice they had. + + CATHLEEN + + A learned theologian has laid down + That starving men may take what's necessary, + And yet be sinless. + + OONA + + Sinless and a thief! + There should be broken bottles on the wall. + + CATHLEEN + + And if it be a sin, while faith's unbroken + God cannot help but pardon. There is no soul + But it's unlike all others in the world, + Nor one but lifts a strangeness to God's love + Till that's grown infinite, and therefore none + Whose loss were less than irremediable + Although it were the wickedest in the world. + +(_Enter_ TEIG _and_ SHEMUS.) + + STEWARD + + What are you running for? Pull off your cap, + Do you not see who's there? + + SHEMUS + + I cannot wait. + I am running to the world with the best news + That has been brought it for a thousand years. + + STEWARD + + Then get your breath and speak. + + SHEMUS + + If you'd my news + You'd run as fast and be as out of breath. + + TEIG + + Such news, we shall be carried on men's shoulders. + + SHEMUS + + There's something every man has carried with him + And thought no more about than if it were + A mouthful of the wind; and now it's grown + A marketable thing! + + TEIG + + And yet it seemed + As useless as the paring of one's nails. + + SHEMUS + + What sets me laughing when I think of it, + Is that a rogue who's lain in lousy straw, + If he but sell it, may set up his coach. + + TEIG (_laughing_) + + There are two gentlemen who buy men's souls. + + CATHLEEN + + O God! + + TEIG + + And maybe there's no soul at all. + + STEWARD + + They're drunk or mad. + + TEIG + + Look at the price they give. + +(_Showing money._) + + SHEMUS (_tossing up money_) + + "Go cry it all about the world," they said. + "Money for souls, good money for a soul." + + CATHLEEN + + Give twice and thrice and twenty times their money, + And get your souls again. I will pay all. + + SHEMUS + + Not we! not we! For souls--if there are souls-- + But keep the flesh out of its merriment. + I shall be drunk and merry. + + TEIG + + Come, let's away. + +(_He goes._) + + CATHLEEN + + But there's a world to come. + + SHEMUS + + And if there is, + I'd rather trust myself into the hands + That can pay money down than to the hands + That have but shaken famine from the bag. + +(_He goes out_ R.) + +(_Lilting_) + + "There's money for a soul, sweet yellow money. + There's money for men's souls, good money, money." + + CATHLEEN (_to_ ALEEL) + + Go call them here again, bring them by force, + Beseech them, bribe, do anything you like; + +(ALEEL _goes_.) + + And you too follow, add your prayers to his. + +(OONA, _who has been praying, goes out_.) + + Steward, you know the secrets of my house. + How much have I? + + STEWARD + + A hundred kegs of gold. + + CATHLEEN + + How much have I in castles? + + STEWARD + + As much more. + + CATHLEEN + + How much have I in pasture? + + STEWARD + + As much more. + + CATHLEEN + + How much have I in forests? + + STEWARD + + As much more. + + CATHLEEN + + Keeping this house alone, sell all I have, + Go barter where you please, but come again + With herds of cattle and with ships of meal. + + STEWARD + + God's blessing light upon your ladyship. + You will have saved the land. + + CATHLEEN + + Make no delay. + +(_He goes_ L.) + +(ALEEL _and_ OONA _return_) + + CATHLEEN + + They have not come; speak quickly. + + ALEEL + + One drew his knife + And said that he would kill the man or woman + That stopped his way; and when I would have stopped him + He made this stroke at me; but it is nothing. + + CATHLEEN + + You shall be tended. From this day for ever + I'll have no joy or sorrow of my own. + + OONA + + Their eyes shone like the eyes of birds of prey. + + CATHLEEN + + Come, follow me, for the earth burns my feet + Till I have changed my house to such a refuge + That the old and ailing, and all weak of heart, + May escape from beak and claw; all, all, shall come + Till the walls burst and the roof fall on us. + From this day out I have nothing of my own. + +(_She goes._) + + OONA (_taking_ ALEEL _by the arm and as she speaks bandaging his wound_) + + She has found something now to put her hand to, + And you and I are of no more account + Than flies upon a window-pane in the winter. + +(_They go out._) + +END OF SCENE II. + + + + +SCENE III + + + SCENE.--_Hall in the house of_ COUNTESS CATHLEEN. _At the Left an + oratory with steps leading up to it. At the Right a tapestried + wall, more or less repeating the form of the oratory, and a great + chair with its back against the wall. In the Centre are two or more + arches through which one can see dimly the trees of the garden._ + CATHLEEN _is kneeling in front of the altar in the oratory; there + is a hanging lighted lamp over the altar_. ALEEL _enters_. + + ALEEL + + I have come to bid you leave this castle and fly + Out of these woods. + + CATHLEEN + + What evil is there here + That is not everywhere from this to the sea? + + ALEEL + + They who have sent me walk invisible. + + CATHLEEN + + So it is true what I have heard men say, + That you have seen and heard what others cannot. + + ALEEL + + I was asleep in my bed, and while I slept + My dream became a fire; and in the fire + One walked and he had birds about his head. + + CATHLEEN + + I have heard that one of the old gods walked so. + + ALEEL + + It may be that he is angelical; + And, lady, he bids me call you from these woods. + And you must bring but your old foster-mother, + And some few serving men, and live in the hills, + Among the sounds of music and the light + Of waters, till the evil days are done. + For here some terrible death is waiting you, + Some unimagined evil, some great darkness + That fable has not dreamt of, nor sun nor moon + Scattered. + + CATHLEEN + + No, not angelical. + + ALEEL + + This house + You are to leave with some old trusty man, + And bid him shelter all that starve or wander + While there is food and house room. + + CATHLEEN + + He bids me go + Where none of mortal creatures but the swan + Dabbles, and there you would pluck the harp, when the trees + Had made a heavy shadow about our door, + And talk among the rustling of the reeds, + When night hunted the foolish sun away + With stillness and pale tapers. No--no--no! + I cannot. Although I weep, I do not weep + Because that life would be most happy, and here + I find no way, no end. Nor do I weep + Because I had longed to look upon your face, + But that a night of prayer has made me weary. + + ALEEL (_prostrating himself before her_) + + Let Him that made mankind, the angels and devils + And dearth and plenty, mend what He has made, + For when we labour in vain and eye still sees + Heart breaks in vain. + + CATHLEEN + + How would that quiet end? + + ALEEL + + How but in healing? + + CATHLEEN + + You have seen my tears + And I can see your hand shake on the floor. + + ALEEL (_faltering_) + + I thought but of healing. He was angelical. + + CATHLEEN (_turning away from him_) + + No, not angelical, but of the old gods, + Who wander about the world to waken the heart-- + The passionate, proud heart--that all the angels, + Leaving nine heavens empty, would rock to sleep. + +(_She goes to chapel door;_ ALEEL _holds his clasped hands towards her +for a moment hesitatingly, and then lets them fall beside him_.) + + CATHLEEN + + Do not hold out to me beseeching hands. + This heart shall never waken on earth. I have sworn, + By her whose heart the seven sorrows have pierced, + To pray before this altar until my heart + Has grown to Heaven like a tree, and there + Rustled its leaves, till Heaven has saved my people. + + ALEEL (_who has risen_) + + When one so great has spoken of love to one + So little as I, though to deny him love, + What can he but hold out beseeching hands, + Then let them fall beside him, knowing how greatly + They have overdared? + +(_He goes towards the door of the hall._ _The_ COUNTESS CATHLEEN _takes +a few steps towards him_.) + + CATHLEEN + + If the old tales are true, + Queens have wed shepherds and kings beggar-maids; + God's procreant waters flowing about your mind + Have made you more than kings or queens; and not you + But I am the empty pitcher. + + ALEEL + + Being silent, + I have said all, yet let me stay beside you. + + CATHLEEN + + No, no, not while my heart is shaken. No, + But you shall hear wind cry and water cry, + And curlew cry, and have the peace I longed for. + + ALEEL + + Give me your hand to kiss. + + CATHLEEN + + I kiss your forehead. + And yet I send you from me. Do not speak; + There have been women that bid men to rob + Crowns from the Country-under-Wave or apples + Upon a dragon-guarded hill, and all + That they might sift men's hearts and wills, + And trembled as they bid it, as I tremble + That lay a hard task on you, that you go, + And silently, and do not turn your head; + Goodbye; but do not turn your head and look; + Above all else, I would not have you look. + +(ALEEL _goes_.) + + I never spoke to him of his wounded hand, + And now he is gone. (_She looks out._) + I cannot see him, for all is dark outside. + Would my imagination and my heart + Were as little shaken as this holy flame! + +(_She goes slowly into the chapel. The distant sound of an alarm bell._ +_The two_ MERCHANTS _enter hurriedly_.) + + SECOND MERCHANT + + They are ringing the alarm, and in a moment + They'll be upon us. + + FIRST MERCHANT (_going to a door at the side_) + + Here is the Treasury, + You'd my commands to put them all to sleep. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Some angel or else her prayers protected them. + +(_Goes into the Treasury and returns with bags of treasure._ FIRST +MERCHANT _has been listening at the oratory door_.) + + FIRST MERCHANT + + She has fallen asleep. + +(SECOND MERCHANT _goes out through one of the arches at the back and +stands listening. The bags are at his feet._) + + SECOND MERCHANT + + We've all the treasure now, + So let's away before they've tracked us out. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + I have a plan to win her. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + You have time enough + If you would kill her and bear off her soul + Before they are upon us with their prayers; + They search the Western Tower. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + That may not be. + We cannot face the heavenly host in arms. + Her soul must come to us of its own will, + But being of the ninth and mightiest Hell + Where all are kings, I have a plan to win it. + Lady, we've news that's crying out for speech. + +(CATHLEEN _wakes and comes to door of chapel_.) + + CATHLEEN + + Who calls? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We have brought news. + + CATHLEEN + + What are you? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We are merchants, and we know the book of the world + Because we have walked upon its leaves; and there + Have read of late matters that much concern you; + And noticing the castle door stand open, + Came in to find an ear. + + CATHLEEN + + The door stands open, + That no one who is famished or afraid, + Despair of help or of a welcome with it. + But you have news, you say. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We saw a man, + Heavy with sickness in the bog of Allen, + Whom you had bid buy cattle. Near Fair Head + We saw your grain ships lying all becalmed + In the dark night; and not less still than they, + Burned all their mirrored lanthorns in the sea. + + CATHLEEN + + My thanks to God, to Mary and the angels, + That I have money in my treasury, + And can buy grain from those who have stored it up + To prosper on the hunger of the poor. + But you've been far and know the signs of things, + When will this famine end? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Day copies day, + And there's no sign of change, nor can it change, + With the wheat withered and the cattle dead. + + CATHLEEN + + And heard you of the demons who buy souls? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + There are some men who hold they have wolves' heads, + And say their limbs--dried by the infinite flame-- + Have all the speed of storms; others, again, + Say they are gross and little; while a few + Will have it they seem much as mortals are, + But tall and brown and travelled--like us, lady-- + Yet all agree a power is in their looks + That makes men bow, and flings a casting-net + About their souls, and that all men would go + And barter those poor vapours, were it not + You bribe them with the safety of your gold. + + CATHLEEN + + Praise be to God, to Mary, and the angels + That I am wealthy! Wherefore do they sell? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + As we came in at the great door we saw + Your porter sleeping in his niche--a soul + Too little to be worth a hundred pence, + And yet they buy it for a hundred crowns. + But for a soul like yours, I heard them say, + They would give five hundred thousand crowns and more. + + CATHLEEN + + How can a heap of crowns pay for a soul? + Is the green grave so terrible a thing? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Some sell because the money gleams, and some + Because they are in terror of the grave, + And some because their neighbours sold before, + And some because there is a kind of joy + In casting hope away, in losing joy, + In ceasing all resistance, in at last + Opening one's arms to the eternal flames, + In casting all sails out upon the wind; + To this--full of the gaiety of the lost-- + Would all folk hurry if your gold were gone. + + CATHLEEN + + There is a something, Merchant, in your voice + That makes me fear. When you were telling how + A man may lose his soul and lose his God + Your eyes were lighted up, and when you told + How my poor money serves the people, both-- + Merchants forgive me--seemed to smile. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + I laugh + To think that all these people should be swung + As on a lady's shoe-string,--under them + The glowing leagues of never-ending flame. + + CATHLEEN + + There is a something in you that I fear; + A something not of us; were you not born + In some most distant corner of the world? + +(_The_ SECOND MERCHANT, _who has been listening at the door, comes +forward, and as he comes a sound of voices and feet is heard_.) + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Away now--they are in the passage--hurry, + For they will know us, and freeze up our hearts + With Ave Marys, and burn all our skin + With holy water. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Farewell; for we must ride + Many a mile before the morning come; + Our horses beat the ground impatiently. + +(_They go out._ _A number of_ PEASANTS _enter by other door_.) + + FIRST PEASANT + + Forgive us, lady, but we heard a noise. + + SECOND PEASANT + + We sat by the fireside telling vanities. + + FIRST PEASANT + + We heard a noise, but though we have searched the house + We have found nobody. + + CATHLEEN + + You are too timid, + For now you are safe from all the evil times, + There is no evil that can find you here. + + OONA (_entering hurriedly_) + + Ochone! Ochone! The treasure room is broken in. + The door stands open, and the gold is gone. + +(PEASANTS _raise a lamentable cry_.) + + CATHLEEN + + Be silent. (_The cry ceases._) Have you seen nobody? + + OONA + + Ochone! + That my good mistress should lose all this money. + + CATHLEEN + + Let those among you--not too old to ride-- + Get horses and search all the country round, + I'll give a farm to him who finds the thieves. + +(_A man with keys at his girdle has come in while she speaks. There is a +general murmur of "The porter! the porter!"_) + + PORTER + + Demons were here. I sat beside the door + In my stone niche, and two owls passed me by, + Whispering with human voices. + + OLD PEASANT + + God forsakes us. + + CATHLEEN + + Old man, old man, He never closed a door + Unless one opened. I am desolate, + Because of a strange thought that's in my heart; + But I have still my faith; therefore be silent; + For surely He does not forsake the world, + But stands before it modelling in the clay + And moulding there His image. Age by age + The clay wars with His fingers and pleads hard + For its old, heavy, dull and shapeless ease; + But sometimes--though His hand is on it still-- + It moves awry and demon hordes are born. + +(PEASANTS _cross themselves_.) + + Yet leave me now, for I am desolate, + I hear a whisper from beyond the thunder. + +(_She comes from the oratory door._) + + Yet stay an instant. When we meet again + I may have grown forgetful. Oona, take + These two--the larder and the dairy keys. + +(_To the_ PORTER.) + + But take you this. It opens the small room + Of herbs for medicine, of hellebore, + Of vervain, monkshood, plantain, and self-heal. + The book of cures is on the upper shelf. + + PORTER + + Why do you do this, lady; did you see + Your coffin in a dream? + + CATHLEEN + + Ah, no, not that. + But I have come to a strange thought. I have heard + A sound of wailing in unnumbered hovels, + And I must go down, down--I know not where-- + Pray for all men and women mad from famine; + Pray, you good neighbours. + +(_The_ PEASANTS _all kneel_. COUNTESS CATHLEEN _ascends the steps to the +door of the oratory, and turning round stands there motionless for a +little, and then cries in a loud voice_:) + + Mary, Queen of angels, + And all you clouds on clouds of saints, farewell! + +END OF SCENE III. + + + + +SCENE IV + + + SCENE.--_A wood near the Castle, as in Scene II. A group of_ + PEASANTS _pass_. + + FIRST PEASANT + + I have seen silver and copper, but not gold. + + SECOND PEASANT + + It's yellow and it shines. + + FIRST PEASANT + + It's beautiful. + The most beautiful thing under the sun, + That's what I've heard. + + THIRD PEASANT + + I have seen gold enough. + + FOURTH PEASANT + + I would not say that it's so beautiful. + + FIRST PEASANT + + But doesn't a gold piece glitter like the sun? + That's what my father, who'd seen better days, + Told me when I was but a little boy-- + So high--so high, it's shining like the sun, + Round and shining, that is what he said. + + SECOND PEASANT + + There's nothing in the world it cannot buy. + + FIRST PEASANT + + They've bags and bags of it. + +(_They go out._ _The two_ MERCHANTS _follow silently_. _Then_ ALEEL +_passes over the stage singing_.) + + ALEEL + + Impetuous heart be still, be still, + Your sorrowful love can never be told, + Cover it up with a lonely tune. + He who could bend all things to His will + Has covered the door of the infinite fold + With the pale stars and the wandering moon. + +END OF SCENE IV. + + + + +SCENE V + + + SCENE.--_The house of_ SHEMUS RUA. _There is an alcove at the back + with curtains; in it a bed, and on the bed is the body of_ MARY + _with candles round it_. _The two_ MERCHANTS _while they speak put + a large book upon a table, arrange money, and so on_. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Thanks to that lie I told about her ships + And that about the herdsman lying sick, + We shall be too much thronged with souls to-morrow. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + What has she in her coffers now but mice? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + When the night fell and I had shaped myself + Into the image of the man-headed owl, + I hurried to the cliffs of Donegal, + And saw with all their canvas full of wind + And rushing through the parti-coloured sea + Those ships that bring the woman grain and meal. + They're but three days from us. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + When the dew rose + I hurried in like feathers to the east, + And saw nine hundred oxen driven through Meath + With goads of iron. They're but three days from us. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Three days for traffic. + +(PEASANTS _crowd in with_ TEIG _and_ SHEMUS.) + + SHEMUS + + Come in, come in, you are welcome. + That is my wife. She mocked at my great masters, + And would not deal with them. Now there she is; + She does not even know she was a fool, + So great a fool she was. + + TEIG + + She would not eat + One crumb of bread bought with our master's money, + But lived on nettles, dock, and dandelion. + + SHEMUS + + There's nobody could put into her head + That Death is the worst thing can happen us. + Though that sounds simple, for her tongue grew rank + With all the lies that she had heard in chapel. + Draw to the curtain. (TEIG _draws it_.) You'll not play the fool + While these good gentlemen are there to save you. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Since the drought came they drift about in a throng, + Like autumn leaves blown by the dreary winds. + Come, deal--come, deal. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Who will come deal with us? + + SHEMUS + + They are out of spirit, sir, with lack of food, + Save four or five. Here, sir, is one of these; + The others will gain courage in good time. + + MIDDLE-AGED-MAN + + I come to deal--if you give honest price. + + FIRST MERCHANT (_reading in a book_) + + "John Maher, a man of substance, with dull mind, + And quiet senses and unventurous heart. + The angels think him safe." Two hundred crowns, + All for a soul, a little breath of wind. + + THE MAN + + I ask three hundred crowns. You have read there + That no mere lapse of days can make me yours. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + There is something more writ here--"Often at night + He is wakeful from a dread of growing poor, + And thereon wonders if there's any man + That he could rob in safety." + + A PEASANT + + Who'd have thought it? + And I was once alone with him at midnight. + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + I will not trust my mother after this. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + There is this crack in you--two hundred crowns. + + A PEASANT + + That's plenty for a rogue. + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + I'd give him nothing. + + SHEMUS + + You'll get no more--so take what's offered you. + +(_A general murmur, during which the_ MIDDLE-AGED MAN _takes money, and +slips into background, where he sinks on to a seat_.) + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Has no one got a better soul than that? + If only for the credit of your parishes, + Traffic with us. + + A WOMAN + + What will you give for mine? + + FIRST MERCHANT (_reading in book_) + + "Soft, handsome, and still young"--not much, I think. + "It's certain that the man she's married to + Knows nothing of what's hidden in the jar + Between the hour-glass and the pepper-pot." + + THE WOMAN + + The scandalous book. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + "Nor how when he's away + At the horse fair the hand that wrote what's hid + Will tap three times upon the window-pane." + + THE WOMAN + + And if there is a letter, that is no reason + Why I should have less money than the others. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + You're almost safe, I give you fifty crowns. + +(_She turns to go._) + + A hundred, then. + + SHEMUS + + Woman, have sense--come, come. + Is this a time to haggle at the price? + There, take it up. There, there. That's right. + +(_She takes them and goes into the crowd._) + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Come, deal, deal, deal. It is but for charity + We buy such souls at all; a thousand sins + Made them our Master's long before we came. + +(ALEEL _enters_.) + + ALEEL + + Here, take my soul, for I am tired of it. + I do not ask a price. + + SHEMUS + + Not ask a price? + How can you sell your soul without a price? + I would not listen to his broken wits; + His love for Countess Cathleen has so crazed him + He hardly understands what he is saying. + + ALEEL + + The trouble that has come on Countess Cathleen, + The sorrow that is in her wasted face, + The burden in her eyes, have broke my wits, + And yet I know I'd have you take my soul. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We cannot take your soul, for it is hers. + + ALEEL + + No, but you must. Seeing it cannot help her + I have grown tired of it. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Begone from me, + I may not touch it. + + ALEEL + + Is your power so small? + And must I bear it with me all my days? + May you be scorned and mocked! + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Drag him away. + He troubles me. + +(TEIG _and_ SHEMUS _lead_ ALEEL _into the crowd_.) + + SECOND MERCHANT + + His gaze has filled me, brother, + With shaking and a dreadful fear. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Lean forward + And kiss the circlet where my Master's lips + Were pressed upon it when he sent us hither; + You shall have peace once more. + +(SECOND MERCHANT _kisses the gold circlet that is about the head of the_ +FIRST MERCHANT.) + + I, too, grow weary, + But there is something moving in my heart + Whereby I know that what we seek the most + Is drawing near--our labour will soon end. + Come, deal, deal, deal, deal, deal; are you all dumb? + What, will you keep me from our ancient home, + And from the eternal revelry? + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Deal, deal. + + SHEMUS + + They say you beat the woman down too low. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + I offer this great price: a thousand crowns + For an old woman who was always ugly. + +(_An old_ PEASANT WOMAN _comes forward, and he takes up a book and +reads_:) + + There is but little set down here against her. + "She has stolen eggs and fowl when times were bad, + But when the times grew better has confessed it; + She never missed her chapel of a Sunday + And when she could, paid dues." Take up your money. + + OLD WOMAN + + God bless you, sir. (_She screams._) Oh, sir, a pain went through me! + + FIRST MERCHANT + + That name is like a fire to all damned souls. + +(_Murmur among the_ PEASANTS, _who shrink back from her as she goes +out_.) + + A PEASANT + + How she screamed out! + + SECOND PEASANT + + And maybe we shall scream so. + + THIRD PEASANT + + I tell you there is no such place as hell. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Can such a trifle turn you from your profit? + Come, deal; come, deal. + + MIDDLE-AGED MAN + + Master, I am afraid. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + I bought your soul, and there's no sense in fear + Now the soul's gone. + + MIDDLE-AGED MAN + + Give me my soul again. + + WOMAN (_going on her knees and clinging to_ + MERCHANT) + + And take this money too, and give me mine. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Bear bastards, drink or follow some wild fancy; + For sighs and cries are the soul's work, + And you have none. + +(_Throws the woman off._) + + PEASANT + + Come, let's away. + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + Yes, yes. + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + Come quickly; if that woman had not screamed + I would have lost my soul. + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + Come, come away. + +(_They turn to door, but are stopped by shouts of "Countess Cathleen! +Countess Cathleen!"_) + + CATHLEEN (_entering_) + + And so you trade once more? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + In spite of you. + What brings you here, saint with the sapphire eyes? + + CATHLEEN + + I come to barter a soul for a great price. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + What matter, if the soul be worth the price? + + CATHLEEN + + The people starve, therefore the people go + Thronging to you. I hear a cry come from them + And it is in my ears by night and day, + And I would have five hundred thousand crowns + That I may feed them till the dearth go by. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + It may be the soul's worth it. + + CATHLEEN + + There is more: + The souls that you have bought must be set free. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We know of but one soul that's worth the price. + + CATHLEEN + + Being my own it seems a priceless thing. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + You offer us---- + + CATHLEEN + + I offer my own soul. + + A PEASANT + + Do not, do not, for souls the like of ours + Are not precious to God as your soul is. + O! what would Heaven do without you, lady? + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + Look how their claws clutch in their leathern gloves. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Five hundred thousand crowns; we give the price. + The gold is here; the souls even while you speak + Have slipped out of our bond, because your face + Has shed a light on them and filled their hearts. + But you must sign, for we omit no form + In buying a soul like yours. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Sign with this quill + It was a feather growing on the cock + That crowed when Peter dared deny his Master, + And all who use it have great honour in Hell. + +(CATHLEEN _leans forward to sign_.) + + ALEEL (_rushing forward and snatching the + pen from her_) + + Leave all things to the builder of the heavens. + + CATHLEEN + + I have no thoughts; I hear a cry--a cry. + + ALEEL (_casting the pen on the ground_) + + I have seen a vision under a green hedge, + A hedge of hips and haws--men yet shall hear + The Archangels rolling Satan's empty skull + Over the mountain-tops. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Take him away. + +(TEIG _and_ SHEMUS _drag him roughly away so that he falls upon the +floor among the_ PEASANTS. CATHLEEN _picks up parchment and signs, then +turns towards the_ PEASANTS.) + + CATHLEEN + + Take up the money, and now come with me; + When we are far from this polluted place + I will give everybody money enough. + +(_She goes out, the_ PEASANTS _crowding round her and kissing her +dress_. ALEEL _and the two_ MERCHANTS _are left alone_.) + + SECOND MERCHANT + + We must away and wait until she dies, + Sitting above her tower as two grey owls, + Waiting as many years as may be, guarding + Our precious jewel; waiting to seize her soul. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We need but hover over her head in the air, + For she has only minutes. When she signed + Her heart began to break. Hush, hush, I hear + The brazen door of Hell move on its hinges, + And the eternal revelry float hither + To hearten us. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Leap feathered on the air + And meet them with her soul caught in your claws. + +(_They rush out._ ALEEL _crawls into the middle of the room_. _The +twilight has fallen and gradually darkens as the scene goes on. There is +a distant muttering of thunder and a sound of rising storm._) + + ALEEL + + The brazen door stands wide, and Balor comes + Borne in his heavy car, and demons have lifted + The age-weary eyelids from the eyes that of old + Turned gods to stone; Barach, the traitor, comes + And the lascivious race, Cailitin, + That cast a druid weakness and decay + Over Sualtem's and old Dectera's child; + And that great king Hell first took hold upon + When he killed Naisi and broke Deirdre's heart + And all their heads are twisted to one side, + For when they lived they warred on beauty and peace + With obstinate, crafty, sidelong bitterness. + +(_He moves about as though the air above him was full of spirits_. OONA +_enters_.) + + Crouch down, old heron, out of the blind storm. + + OONA + + Where is the Countess Cathleen? All this day + Her eyes were full of tears, and when for a moment + Her hand was laid upon my hand it trembled, + And now I do not know where she is gone. + + ALEEL + + Cathleen has chosen other friends than us, + And they are rising through the hollow world. + Demons are out, old heron. + + OONA + + God guard her soul. + + ALEEL + + She's bartered it away this very hour, + As though we two were never in the world. + +(_He points downward._) + + First, Orchill, her pale, beautiful head + Her body shadowy as vapour drifting + Under the dawn, for she who awoke desire + Has but a heart of blood when others die; + About her is a vapoury multitude + Of women alluring devils with soft laughter; + Behind her a host heat of the blood made sin, + But all the little pink-white nails have grown + To be great talons. + +(_He seizes_ OONA _and drags her into the middle of the room and points +downward with vehement gestures_. _The wind roars._) + + They begin a song + And there is still some music on their tongues. + + OONA (_casting herself face downwards on the floor_) + + O, Maker of all, protect her from the demons, + And if a soul must need be lost, take mine. + +(ALEEL _kneels beside her, but does not seem to hear her words_. _The_ +PEASANTS _return_. _They carry the_ COUNTESS CATHLEEN _and lay her upon +the ground before_ OONA _and_ ALEEL. _She lies there as if dead._) + + OONA + + O, that so many pitchers of rough clay + Should prosper and the porcelain break in two! + + (_She kisses the hands of_ CATHLEEN.) + + A PEASANT + + We were under the tree where the path turns, + When she grew pale as death and fainted away. + And while we bore her hither cloudy gusts + Blackened the world and shook us on our feet; + Draw the great bolt, for no man has beheld + So black, bitter, blinding, and sudden a storm. + +(_One who is near the door draws the bolt._) + + CATHLEEN + + O, hold me, and hold me tightly, for the storm + Is dragging me away. + +(OONA _takes her in her arms_. A WOMAN _begins to wail_.) + + PEASANT + + Hush! + + PEASANTS + + Hush! + + PEASANT WOMEN + + Hush! + + OTHER PEASANT WOMEN + + Hush! + + CATHLEEN (_half rising_) + + Lay all the bags of money in a heap, + And when I am gone, old Oona, share them out + To every man and woman: judge, and give + According to their needs. + + A PEASANT WOMAN + + And will she give + Enough to keep my children through the dearth? + + ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN + + O, Queen of Heaven, and all you blessed saints, + Let us and ours be lost so she be shriven. + + CATHLEEN + + Bend down your faces, Oona and Aleel; + I gaze upon them as the swallow gazes + Upon the nest under the eave, before + She wander the loud waters. Do not weep + Too great a while, for there is many a candle + On the High Altar though one fall. Aleel, + Who sang about the dancers of the woods, + That know not the hard burden of the world, + Having but breath in their kind bodies, farewell! + And farewell, Oona, you who played with me, + And bore me in your arms about the house + When I was but a child and therefore happy, + Therefore happy, even like those that dance. + The storm is in my hair and I must go. + +(_She dies._) + + OONA + + Bring me the looking-glass. + +(A WOMAN _brings it to her out of the inner room_. OONA _holds it over +the lips of_ CATHLEEN. _All is silent for a moment. And then she speaks +in a half scream_:) + + O, she is dead! + + A PEASANT + + She was the great white lily of the world. + + A PEASANT + + She was more beautiful than the pale stars. + + AN OLD PEASANT WOMAN + + The little plant I love is broken in two. + +(ALEEL _takes looking-glass from_ OONA _and flings it upon the floor so +that it is broken in many pieces_.) + + ALEEL + + I shatter you in fragments, for the face + That brimmed you up with beauty is no more: + And die, dull heart, for she whose mournful words + Made you a living spirit has passed away + And left you but a ball of passionate dust. + And you, proud earth and plumy sea, fade out! + For you may hear no more her faltering feet, + But are left lonely amid the clamorous war + Of angels upon devils. + +(_He stands up; almost every one is kneeling, but it has grown so dark +that only confused forms can be seen._) + + And I who weep + Call curses on you, Time and Fate and Change, + And have no excellent hope but the great hour + When you shall plunge headlong through bottomless space. + +(_A flash of lightning followed immediately by thunder._) + + A PEASANT WOMAN + + Pull him upon his knees before his curses + Have plucked thunder and lightning on our heads. + + ALEEL + + Angels and devils clash in the middle air, + And brazen swords clang upon brazen helms. + +(_A flash of lightning followed immediately by thunder._) + + Yonder a bright spear, cast out of a sling, + Has torn through Balor's eye, and the dark clans + Fly screaming as they fled Moytura of old. + +(_Everything is lost in darkness._) + + AN OLD MAN + + The Almighty wrath at our great weakness and sin + Has blotted out the world and we must die. + +(_The darkness is broken by a visionary light. The_ PEASANTS _seem to be +kneeling upon the_ _rocky slope of a mountain, and vapour full of storm +and ever-changing light is sweeping above them and behind them. Half in +the light, half in the shadow, stand armed angels. Their armour is old +and worn, and their drawn swords dim and dinted. They stand as if upon +the air in formation of battle and look downward with stern faces. The_ +PEASANTS _cast themselves on the ground_.) + + ALEEL + + Look no more on the half-closed gates of Hell, + But speak to me, whose mind is smitten of God, + That it may be no more with mortal things, + And tell of her who lies there. + +(_He seizes one of the angels._) + + Till you speak + You shall not drift into eternity. + + THE ANGEL + + The light beats down; the gates of pearl are wide + And she is passing to the floor of peace, + And Mary of the seven times wounded heart + Has kissed her lips, and the long blessed hair + Has fallen on her face; The Light of Lights + Looks always on the motive, not the deed, + The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone. + +(ALEEL _releases the_ ANGEL _and kneels_.) + + OONA + + Tell them who walk upon the floor of peace + That I would die and go to her I love; + The years like great black oxen tread the world, + And God the herdsman goads them on behind + And I am broken by their passing feet. + +(_A sound of far-off horns seems to come from the heart of the Light. +The vision melts away, and the forms of the kneeling_ PEASANTS _appear +faintly in the darkness_.) + + + + +THE ROSE + + + "_Sero te amavi, Pulchritudo tam antiqua et tam nova! Sero te + amavi._" + + S. AUGUSTINE. + + +TO LIONEL JOHNSON + + +TO THE ROSE UPON THE ROOD OF TIME + + + _Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days! + Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways: + Cuchulain battling with the bitter tide; + The Druid, gray, wood-nurtured, quiet-eyed, + Who cast round Fergus dreams, and ruin untold; + And thine own sadness, whereof stars, grown old + In dancing silver sandalled on the sea, + Sing in their high and lonely melody. + Come near, that no more blinded by man's fate, + I find under the boughs of love and hate, + In all poor foolish things that live a day, + Eternal beauty wandering on her way._ + + _Come near, come near, come near--Ah, leave me still + A little space for the rose-breath to fill! + Lest I no more hear common things that crave; + The weak worm hiding down in its small cave,_ + _The field mouse running by me in the grass, + And heavy mortal hopes that toil and pass; + But seek alone to hear the strange things said + By God to the bright hearts of those long dead, + And learn to chaunt a tongue men do not know. + Come near; I would, before my time to go, + Sing of old Eire and the ancient ways: + Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days._ + + +FERGUS AND THE DRUID + + + FERGUS + + The whole day have I followed in the rocks, + And you have changed and flowed from shape to shape. + First as a raven on whose ancient wings + Scarcely a feather lingered, then you seemed + A weasel moving on from stone to stone, + And now at last you wear a human shape, + A thin gray man half lost in gathering night. + + DRUID + + What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings? + + FERGUS + + This would I say, most wise of living souls: + Young subtle Concobar sat close by me + When I gave judgment, and his words were wise, + And what to me was burden without end, + To him seemed easy, so I laid the crown + Upon his head to cast away my care. + + DRUID + + What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings? + + FERGUS + + I feast amid my people on the hill, + And pace the woods, and drive my chariot wheels + In the white border of the murmuring sea; + And still I feel the crown upon my head. + + DRUID + + What would you? + + FERGUS + + I would be no more a king + But learn the dreaming wisdom that is yours. + + DRUID + + Look on my thin gray hair and hollow cheeks + And on these hands that may not lift the sword + This body trembling like a wind-blown reed. + No woman loves me, no man seeks my help, + Because I be not of the things I dream. + + FERGUS + + A wild and foolish labourer is a king, + To do and do and do, and never dream. + + DRUID + + Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams; + Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round. + + FERGUS + + I see my life go dripping like a stream + From change to change; I have been many things, + A green drop in the surge, a gleam of light + Upon a sword, a fir-tree on a hill, + An old slave grinding at a heavy quern, + A king sitting upon a chair of gold, + And all these things were wonderful and great; + But now I have grown nothing, being all, + And the whole world weighs down upon my heart: + Ah! Druid, Druid, how great webs of sorrow + Lay hidden in the small slate-coloured bag! + + +THE DEATH OF CUCHULAIN + + + A man came slowly from the setting sun, + To Forgail's daughter, Emer, in her dun, + And found her dyeing cloth with subtle care, + And said, casting aside his draggled hair: + "I am Aleel, the swineherd, whom you bid + "Go dwell upon the sea cliffs, vapour hid; + "But now my years of watching are no more." + + Then Emer cast the web upon the floor, + And stretching out her arms, red with the dye, + Parted her lips with a loud sudden cry. + + Looking on her, Aleel, the swineherd, said: + "Not any god alive, nor mortal dead, + "Has slain so mighty armies, so great kings, + "Nor won the gold that now Cuchulain brings." + + "Why do you tremble thus from feet to crown?" + + Aleel, the swineherd, wept and cast him down + Upon the web-heaped floor, and thus his word: + "With him is one sweet-throated like a bird." + + "Who bade you tell these things?" and then she cried + To those about, "Beat him with thongs of hide + "And drive him from the door." + + And thus it was: + And where her son, Finmole, on the smooth grass + Was driving cattle, came she with swift feet, + And called out to him, "Son, it is not meet + "That you stay idling here with flocks and herds." + + "I have long waited, mother, for those words: + "But wherefore now?" + + "There is a man to die; + "You have the heaviest arm under the sky." + + "My father dwells among the sea-worn bands, + "And breaks the ridge of battle with his hands." + + "Nay, you are taller than Cuchulain, son." + + "He is the mightiest man in ship or dun." + + "Nay, he is old and sad with many wars, + "And weary of the crash of battle cars." + + "I only ask what way my journey lies, + "For God, who made you bitter, made you wise." + + "The Red Branch kings a tireless banquet keep, + "Where the sun falls into the Western deep. + "Go there, and dwell on the green forest rim; + "But tell alone your name and house to him + "Whose blade compels, and bid them send you one + "Who has a like vow from their triple dun." + + Between the lavish shelter of a wood + And the gray tide, the Red Branch multitude + Feasted, and with them old Cuchulain dwelt, + And his young dear one close beside him knelt, + And gazed upon the wisdom of his eyes, + More mournful than the depth of starry skies, + And pondered on the wonder of his days; + And all around the harp-string told his praise, + And Concobar, the Red Branch king of kings, + With his own fingers touched the brazen strings. + At last Cuchulain spake, "A young man strays + "Driving the deer along the woody ways. + "I often hear him singing to and fro, + "I often hear the sweet sound of his bow, + "Seek out what man he is." + + One went and came. + "He bade me let all know he gives his name + "At the sword point, and bade me bring him one + "Who had a like vow from our triple dun." + + "I only of the Red Branch hosted now," + Cuchulain cried, "have made and keep that vow." + + After short fighting in the leafy shade, + He spake to the young man, "Is there no maid + "Who loves you, no white arms to wrap you round, + "Or do you long for the dim sleepy ground, + "That you come here to meet this ancient sword?" + + "The dooms of men are in God's hidden hoard." + + "Your head a while seemed like a woman's head + "That I loved once." + + Again the fighting sped, + But now the war rage in Cuchulain woke, + And through the other's shield his long blade broke, + And pierced him. + + "Speak before your breath is done." + "I am Finmole, mighty Cuchulain's son." + + "I put you from your pain. I can no more." + + While day its burden on to evening bore, + With head bowed on his knees Cuchulain stayed; + Then Concobar sent that sweet-throated maid, + And she, to win him, his gray hair caressed; + In vain her arms, in vain her soft white breast. + Then Concobar, the subtlest of all men, + Ranking his Druids round him ten by ten, + Spake thus, "Cuchulain will dwell there and brood, + "For three days more in dreadful quietude, + "And then arise, and raving slay us all. + "Go, cast on him delusions magical, + "That he might fight the waves of the loud sea." + And ten by ten under a quicken tree, + The Druids chaunted, swaying in their hands + Tall wands of alder, and white quicken wands. + + In three days' time, Cuchulain with a moan + Stood up, and came to the long sands alone: + For four days warred he with the bitter tide; + And the waves flowed above him, and he died. + + +THE ROSE OF THE WORLD + + + Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream? + For these red lips, with all their mournful pride, + Mournful that no new wonder may betide, + Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam, + And Usna's children died. + + We and the labouring world are passing by: + Amid men's souls, that waver and give place, + Like the pale waters in their wintry race, + Under the passing stars, foam of the sky, + Lives on this lonely face. + + Bow down, archangels, in your dim abode: + Before you were, or any hearts to beat, + Weary and kind one lingered by His seat; + He made the world to be a grassy road + Before her wandering feet. + + +THE ROSE OF PEACE + + + If Michael, leader of God's host + When Heaven and Hell are met, + Looked down on you from Heaven's door-post + He would his deeds forget. + + Brooding no more upon God's wars + In his Divine homestead, + He would go weave out of the stars + A chaplet for your head. + + And all folk seeing him bow down, + And white stars tell your praise, + Would come at last to God's great town, + Led on by gentle ways; + + And God would bid His warfare cease. + Saying all things were well; + And softly make a rosy peace, + A peace of Heaven with Hell. + + +THE ROSE OF BATTLE + + + Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! + The tall thought-woven sails, that flap unfurled + Above the tide of hours, trouble the air, + And God's bell buoyed to be the water's care; + While hushed from fear, or loud with hope, a band + With blown, spray-dabbled hair gather at hand. + _Turn if you may from battles never done_, + I call, as they go by me one by one, + _Danger no refuge holds; and war no peace, + For him who hears love sing and never cease, + Beside her clean-swept hearth, her quiet shade: + But gather all for whom no love hath made + A woven silence, or but came to cast + A song into the air, and singing past + To smile on the pale dawn; and gather you + Who have sought more than is in rain or dew + Or in the sun and moon, or on the earth,_ + _Or sighs amid the wandering, starry mirth, + Or comes in laughter from the sea's sad lips + And wage God's battles in the long gray ships. + The sad, the lonely, the insatiable, + To these Old Night shall all her mystery tell; + God's bell has claimed them by the little cry + Of their sad hearts, that may not live nor die._ + + Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! + You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled + Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring + The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing. + Beauty grown sad with its eternity + Made you of us, and of the dim gray sea. + Our long ships loose thought-woven sails and wait, + For God has bid them share an equal fate; + And when at last defeated in His wars, + They have gone down under the same white stars, + We shall no longer hear the little cry + Of our sad hearts, that may not live nor die. + + +A FAERY SONG + + + _Sung by the people of faery over Diarmuid and Grania, who lay in + their bridal sleep under a Cromlech._ + + We who are old, old and gay, + O so old! + Thousands of years, thousands of years, + If all were told: + + Give to these children, new from the world, + Silence and love; + And the long dew-dropping hours of the night, + And the stars above: + + Give to these children, new from the world, + Rest far from men. + Is anything better, anything better? + Tell us it then: + + Us who are old, old and gay, + O so old! + Thousands of years, thousands of years, + If all were told. + + +THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE + + + I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, + And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: + Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, + And live alone in the bee-loud glade. + + And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, + Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; + There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, + And evening full of the linnet's wings. + + I will arise and go now, for always night and day + I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; + While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray, + I hear it in the deep heart's core. + + +A CRADLE SONG + + + "_Coth yani me von gilli beg, + 'N heur ve thu more a creena_." + + The angels are stooping + Above your bed; + They weary of trooping + With the whimpering dead. + + God's laughing in heaven + To see you so good; + The Shining Seven + Are gay with His mood. + + I kiss you and kiss you, + My pigeon, my own; + Ah, how I shall miss you + When you have grown. + + +THE PITY OF LOVE + + + A pity beyond all telling + Is hid in the heart of love: + The folk who are buying and selling + The clouds on their journey above + The cold wet winds ever blowing + And the shadowy hazel grove + Where mouse-gray waters are flowing + Threaten the head that I love. + + +THE SORROW OF LOVE + + + The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves, + The full round moon and the star-laden sky, + And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves, + Had hid away earth's old and weary cry. + + And then you came with those red mournful lips, + And with you came the whole of the world's tears + And all the trouble of her labouring ships, + And all the trouble of her myriad years. + + And now the sparrows warring in the eaves, + The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky, + And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves, + Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry. + + +WHEN YOU ARE OLD + + + When you are old and gray and full of sleep, + And nodding by the fire, take down this book, + And slowly read, and dream of the soft look + Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; + + How many loved your moments of glad grace, + And loved your beauty will love false or true; + But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, + And loved the sorrows of your changing face. + + And bending down beside the glowing bars + Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled + And paced upon the mountains overhead + And hid his face amid a crowd of stars. + + +THE WHITE BIRDS + + + I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea! + We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee; + And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low + on the rim of the sky, + Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die. + + A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew dabbled, the lily and rose; + Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes, + Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low + in the fall of the dew: + For I would we were changed to white birds on the + wandering foam: I and you! + + I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore, + Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more; + Soon far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be, + Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea! + + +A DREAM OF DEATH + + + I dreamed that one had died in a strange place + Near no accustomed hand; + And they had nailed the boards above her face + The peasants of that land, + Wondering to lay her in that solitude, + And raised above her mound + A cross they had made out of two bits of wood, + And planted cypress round; + And left her to the indifferent stars above + Until I carved these words: + _She was more beautiful than thy first love, + But now lies under boards_. + + +A DREAM OF A BLESSED SPIRIT + + + All the heavy days are over; + Leave the body's coloured pride + Underneath the grass and clover, + With the feet laid side by side. + + One with her are mirth and duty, + Bear the gold embroidered dress, + For she needs not her sad beauty, + To the scented oaken press. + + Hers the kiss of Mother Mary, + The long hair is on her face; + Still she goes with footsteps wary, + Full of earth's old timid grace. + + With white feet of angels seven + Her white feet go glimmering + And above the deep of heaven, + Flame on flame and wing on wing. + + +WHO GOES WITH FERGUS? + + + Who will go drive with Fergus now, + And pierce the deep wood's woven shade, + And dance upon the level shore? + Young man, lift up your russet brow, + And lift your tender eyelids, maid, + And brood on hopes and fears no more. + + And no more turn aside and brood + Upon Love's bitter mystery; + For Fergus rules the brazen cars, + And rules the shadows of the wood, + And the white breast of the dim sea + And all dishevelled wandering stars. + + +THE MAN WHO DREAMED OF FAERYLAND + + + He stood among a crowd at Drumahair; + His heart hung all upon a silken dress, + And he had known at last some tenderness, + Before earth made of him her sleepy care; + But when a man poured fish into a pile, + It seemed they raised their little silver heads, + And sang how day a Druid twilight sheds + Upon a dim, green, well-beloved isle, + Where people love beside star-laden seas; + How Time may never mar their faery vows + Under the woven roofs of quicken boughs: + The singing shook him out of his new ease. + + He wandered by the sands of Lisadill; + His mind ran all on money cares and fears, + And he had known at last some prudent years + Before they heaped his grave under the hill; + But while he passed before a plashy place, + A lug-worm with its gray and muddy mouth + Sang how somewhere to north or west or south + There dwelt a gay, exulting, gentle race; + And how beneath those three times blessed skies + A Danaan fruitage makes a shower of moons, + And as it falls awakens leafy tunes: + And at that singing he was no more wise. + + He mused beside the well of Scanavin, + He mused upon his mockers: without fail + His sudden vengeance were a country tale, + Now that deep earth has drunk his body in; + But one small knot-grass growing by the pool + Told where, ah, little, all-unneeded voice! + Old Silence bids a lonely folk rejoice, + And chaplet their calm brows with leafage cool, + And how, when fades the sea-strewn rose of day, + A gentle feeling wraps them like a fleece, + And all their trouble dies into its peace: + The tale drove his fine angry mood away. + + He slept under the hill of Lugnagall; + And might have known at last unhaunted sleep + Under that cold and vapour-turbaned steep, + Now that old earth had taken man and all: + Were not the worms that spired about his bones + A-telling with their low and reedy cry, + Of how God leans His hands out of the sky, + To bless that isle with honey in His tones; + That none may feel the power of squall and wave + And no one any leaf-crowned dancer miss + Until He burn up Nature with a kiss: + The man has found no comfort in the grave. + + +THE DEDICATION TO A BOOK OF STORIES SELECTED FROM THE IRISH NOVELISTS + + + There was a green branch hung with many a bell + When her own people ruled in wave-worn Eire; + And from its murmuring greenness, calm of faery, + A Druid kindness, on all hearers fell. + + It charmed away the merchant from his guile, + And turned the farmer's memory from his cattle, + And hushed in sleep the roaring ranks of battle, + For all who heard it dreamed a little while. + + Ah, Exiles wandering over many seas, + Spinning at all times Eire's good to-morrow! + Ah, worldwide Nation, always growing Sorrow! + I also bear a bell branch full of ease. + + I tore it from green boughs winds tossed and hurled, + Green boughs of tossing always, weary, weary! + I tore it from the green boughs of old Eire, + The willow of the many-sorrowed world. + + Ah, Exiles, wandering over many lands! + My bell branch murmurs: the gay bells bring laughter, + Leaping to shake a cobweb from the rafter; + The sad bells bow the forehead on the hands. + + A honeyed ringing: under the new skies + They bring you memories of old village faces, + Cabins gone now, old well-sides, old dear places; + And men who loved the cause that never dies. + + +THE LAMENTATION OF THE OLD PENSIONER + + + I had a chair at every hearth, + When no one turned to see, + With "Look at that old fellow there, + "And who may he be?" + And therefore do I wander now, + And the fret lies on me. + + The road-side trees keep murmuring + Ah, wherefore murmur ye, + As in the old days long gone by, + Green oak and poplar tree? + The well-known faces are all gone + And the fret lies on me. + + +THE BALLAD OF FATHER GILLIGAN + + + The old priest Peter Gilligan + Was weary night and day; + For half his flock were in their beds, + Or under green sods lay. + + Once, while he nodded on a chair, + At the moth-hour of eve, + Another poor man sent for him, + And he began to grieve. + + "I have no rest, nor joy, nor peace, + "For people die and die"; + And after cried he, "God forgive! + "My body spake, not I!" + + He knelt, and leaning on the chair + He prayed and fell asleep; + And the moth-hour went from the fields, + And stars began to peep. + + They slowly into millions grew, + And leaves shook in the wind; + And God covered the world with shade, + And whispered to mankind. + + Upon the time of sparrow chirp + When the moths came once more, + The old priest Peter Gilligan + Stood upright on the floor. + + "Mavrone, mavrone! the man has died, + "While I slept on the chair"; + He roused his horse out of its sleep, + And rode with little care. + + He rode now as he never rode, + By rocky lane and fen; + The sick man's wife opened the door: + "Father! you come again!" + + "And is the poor man dead?" he cried, + "He died an hour ago," + The old priest Peter Gilligan + In grief swayed to and fro. + + "When you were gone, he turned and died + "As merry as a bird." + The old priest Peter Gilligan + He knelt him at that word. + + "He who hath made the night of stars + "For souls, who tire and bleed, + "Sent one of His great angels down + "To help me in my need. + + "He who is wrapped in purple robes, + "With planets in His care, + "Had pity on the least of things + "Asleep upon a chair." + + +THE TWO TREES + + + Beloved, gaze in thine own heart, + The holy tree is growing there; + From joy the holy branches start, + And all the trembling flowers they bear. + The changing colours of its fruit + Have dowered the stars with merry light; + The surety of its hidden root + Has planted quiet in the night; + The shaking of its leafy head + Has given the waves their melody, + And made my lips and music wed, + Murmuring a wizard song for thee. + There, through bewildered branches, go + Winged Loves borne on in gentle strife, + Tossing and tossing to and fro + The flaming circle of our life. + When looking on their shaken hair, + And dreaming how they dance and dart, + Thine eyes grow full of tender care: + Beloved, gaze in thine own heart. + + Gaze no more in the bitter glass + The demons, with their subtle guile, + Lift up before us when they pass, + Or only gaze a little while; + For there a fatal image grows, + With broken boughs, and blackened leaves, + And roots half hidden under snows + Driven by a storm that ever grieves. + For all things turn to barrenness + In the dim glass the demons hold, + The glass of outer weariness, + Made when God slept in times of old. + There, through the broken branches, go + The ravens of unresting thought; + Peering and flying to and fro + To see men's souls bartered and bought. + When they are heard upon the wind, + And when they shake their wings; alas! + Thy tender eyes grow all unkind: + Gaze no more in the bitter glass. + + +TO IRELAND IN THE COMING TIMES + + + _Know, that I would accounted be + True brother of that company, + Who sang to sweeten Ireland's wrong, + Ballad and story, rann and song; + Nor be I any less of them, + Because the red-rose-bordered hem + Of her, whose history began + Before God made the angelic clan, + Trails all about the written page; + For in the world's first blossoming age + The light fall of her flying feet + Made Ireland's heart begin to beat; + And still the starry candles flare + To help her light foot here and there; + And still the thoughts of Ireland brood + Upon her holy quietude._ + + _Nor may I less be counted one + With Davis, Mangan, Ferguson, + Because to him, who ponders well, + My rhymes more than their rhyming tell + Of the dim wisdoms old and deep, + That God gives unto man in sleep. + For the elemental beings go + About my table to and fro. + In flood and fire and clay and wind, + They huddle from man's pondering mind; + Yet he who treads in austere ways + May surely meet their ancient gaze. + Man ever journeys on with them + After the red-rose-bordered hem. + Ah, faeries, dancing under the moon, + A Druid land, a Druid tune!_ + + _While still I may, I write for you + The love I lived, the dream I knew. + From our birthday, until we die, + Is but the winking of an eye; + And we, our singing and our love, + The mariners of night above, + And all the wizard things that go + About my table to and fro. + Are passing on to where may be, + In truth's consuming ecstasy + No place for love and dream at all; + For God goes by with white foot-fall. + I cast my heart into my rhymes, + That you, in the dim coming times, + May know how my heart went with them + After the red-rose-bordered hem._ + + + + +THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE + + + _O Rose, thou art sick._ + + WILLIAM BLAKE. + +TO + +FLORENCE FARR + + + MAURTEEN BRUIN + BRIDGET BRUIN + SHAWN BRUIN + MARY BRUIN + FATHER HART + A FAERY CHILD + + _The Scene is laid in the Barony of Kilmacowen, in the County of + Sligo, and at a remote time._ + + + SCENE.--_A room with a hearth on the floor in the middle of a deep + alcove to the Right. There are benches in the alcove and a table; + and a crucifix on the wall. The alcove is full of a glow of light + from the fire. There is an open door facing the audience to the + Left, and to the left of this a bench. Through the door one can see + the forest. It is night, but the moon or a late sunset glimmers + through the trees and carries the eye far off into a vague, + mysterious world._ MAURTEEN BRUIN, SHAWN BRUIN, _and_ BRIDGET BRUIN + _sit in the alcove at the table or about the fire. They are dressed + in the costume of some remote time, and near them sits an old + priest_, FATHER HART. _He may be dressed as a friar. There is food + and drink upon the table_. MARY BRUIN _stands by the door reading a + book. If she looks up she can see through the door into the wood._ + + BRIDGET + + Because I bid her clean the pots for supper + She took that old book down out of the thatch; + She has been doubled over it ever since. + We should be deafened by her groans and moans + Had she to work as some do, Father Hart; + Get up at dawn like me and mend and scour + Or ride abroad in the boisterous night like you, + The pyx and blessed bread under your arm. + + SHAWN + + Mother, you are too cross. + + BRIDGET + + You've married her, + And fear to vex her and so take her part. + + MAURTEEN (_to_ FATHER HART) + + It is but right that youth should side with youth; + She quarrels with my wife a bit at times, + And is too deep just now in the old book! + But do not blame her greatly; she will grow + As quiet as a puff-ball in a tree + When but the moons of marriage dawn and die + For half a score of times. + + FATHER HART + + Their hearts are wild, + As be the hearts of birds, till children come. + + BRIDGET + + She would not mind the kettle, milk the cow, + Or even lay the knives and spread the cloth. + + SHAWN + + Mother, if only---- + + MAURTEEN + + Shawn, this is half empty; + Go, bring up the best bottle that we have. + + FATHER HART + + I never saw her read a book before, + What can it be? + + MAURTEEN (_to_ SHAWN) + + What are you waiting for? + You must not shake it when you draw the cork; + It's precious wine, so take your time about it. + +(_To Priest._) (SHAWN _goes_.) + + There was a Spaniard wrecked at Ocris Head, + When I was young, and I have still some bottles. + He cannot bear to hear her blamed; the book + Has lain up in the thatch these fifty years; + My father told me my grandfather wrote it, + And killed a heifer for the binding of it-- + But supper's spread, and we can talk and eat + It was little good he got out of the book, + Because it filled his house with rambling fiddlers, + And rambling ballad-makers and the like. + The griddle-bread is there in front of you. + Colleen, what is the wonder in that book, + That you must leave the bread to cool? Had I + Or had my father read or written books + There were no stocking stuffed with yellow guineas + To come when I am dead to Shawn and you. + + FATHER HART + + You should not fill your head with foolish dreams. + What are you reading? + + MARY + + How a Princess Edane, + A daughter of a King of Ireland, heard + A voice singing on a May Eve like this, + And followed half awake and half asleep, + Until she came into the Land of Faery, + Where nobody gets old and godly and grave, + Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise, + Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue. + And she is still there, busied with a dance + Deep in the dewy shadow of a wood, + Or where stars walk upon a mountain-top. + + MAURTEEN + + Persuade the colleen to put down the book; + My grandfather would mutter just such things, + And he was no judge of a dog or a horse, + And any idle boy could blarney him; + Just speak your mind. + + FATHER HART + + Put it away, my colleen; + God spreads the heavens above us like great wings + And gives a little round of deeds and days, + And then come the wrecked angels and set snares, + And bait them with light hopes and heavy dreams, + Until the heart is puffed with pride and goes + Half shuddering and half joyous from God's peace; + And it was some wrecked angel, blind with tears, + Who flattered Edane's heart with merry words. + My colleen, I have seen some other girls + Restless and ill at ease, but years went by + And they grew like their neighbours and were glad + In minding children, working at the churn, + And gossiping of weddings and of wakes; + For life moves out of a red flare of dreams + Into a common light of common hours, + Until old age bring the red flare again. + + MAURTEEN + + That's true--but she's too young to know it's true. + + BRIDGET + + She's old enough to know that it is wrong + To mope and idle. + + MAURTEEN + + I've little blame for her; + She's dull when my big son is in the fields, + And that and maybe this good woman's tongue + Have driven her to hide among her dreams + Like children from the dark under the bed-clothes. + + BRIDGET + + She'd never do a turn if I were silent. + + MAURTEEN + + And maybe it is natural upon May Eve + To dream of the good people. But tell me, girl, + If you've the branch of blessed quicken wood + That women hang upon the post of the door + That they may send good luck into the house? + Remember they may steal new-married brides + After the fall of twilight on May Eve, + Or what old women mutter at the fire + Is but a pack of lies. + + FATHER HART + + It may be truth. + We do not know the limit of those powers + God has permitted to the evil spirits + For some mysterious end. You have done right (_to_ MARY); + It's well to keep old innocent customs up. + +(MARY BRUIN _has taken a bough of quicken wood from a seat and hung it +on a nail in the door-post. A girl child strangely dressed, perhaps in +faery green, comes out of the wood and takes it away_.) + + MARY + + I had no sooner hung it on the nail + Before a child ran up out of the wind; + She has caught it in her hand and fondled it; + Her face is pale as water before dawn. + + FATHER HART + + Whose child can this be? + + MAURTEEN + + No one's child at all. + She often dreams that some one has gone by, + When there was nothing but a puff of wind. + + MARY + + They have taken away the blessed quicken wood, + They will not bring good luck into the house; + Yet I am glad that I was courteous to them, + For are not they, likewise, children of God? + + FATHER HART + + Colleen, they are the children of the fiend, + And they have power until the end of Time, + When God shall fight with them a great pitched battle + And hack them into pieces. + + MARY + + He will smile, + Father, perhaps, and open His great door. + + FATHER HART + + Did but the lawless angels see that door + They would fall, slain by everlasting peace; + And when such angels knock upon our doors, + Who goes with them must drive through the same storm. + +(_A thin old arm comes round the door-post and knocks and beckons. It is +clearly seen in the silvery light._ MARY BRUIN _goes to door and stands +in it for a moment_. MAURTEEN BRUIN _is busy filling_ FATHER HART'S +_plate_. BRIDGET BRUIN _stirs the fire_.) + + MARY (_coming to table_) + + There's somebody out there that beckoned me + And raised her hand as though it held a cup, + And she was drinking from it, so it may be + That she is thirsty. + +(_She takes milk from the table and carries it to the door._) + + FATHER HART + + That will be the child + That you would have it was no child at all. + + BRIDGET + + And maybe, Father, what he said was true; + For there is not another night in the year + So wicked as to-night. + + MAURTEEN + + Nothing can harm us + While the good Father's underneath our roof. + + MARY + + A little queer old woman dressed in green. + + BRIDGET + + The good people beg for milk and fire + Upon May Eve--woe to the house that gives, + For they have power upon it for a year. + + MAURTEEN + + Hush, woman, hush! + + BRIDGET + + She's given milk away. + I knew she would bring evil on the house. + + MAURTEEN + + Who was it? + + MARY + + Both the tongue and face were strange. + + MAURTEEN + + Some strangers came last week to Clover Hill; + She must be one of them. + + BRIDGET + + I am afraid. + + FATHER HART + + The Cross will keep all evil from the house + While it hangs there. + + MAURTEEN + + Come, sit beside me, colleen, + And put away your dreams of discontent, + For I would have you light up my last days, + Like the good glow of the turf; and when I die + You'll be the wealthiest hereabout, for, colleen, + I have a stocking full of yellow guineas + Hidden away where nobody can find it. + + BRIDGET + + You are the fool of every pretty face, + And I must spare and pinch that my son's wife + May have all kinds of ribbons for her head. + + MAURTEEN + + Do not be cross; she is a right good girl! + The butter is by your elbow, Father Hart. + My colleen, have not Fate and Time and Change + Done well for me and for old Bridget there? + We have a hundred acres of good land, + And sit beside each other at the fire. + I have this reverend Father for my friend, + I look upon your face and my son's face-- + We've put his plate by yours--and here he comes, + And brings with him the only thing we have lacked, + Abundance of good wine. (SHAWN _comes in_.) Stir up the fire, + And put new turf upon it till it blaze; + To watch the turf-smoke coiling from the fire, + And feel content and wisdom in your heart, + This is the best of life; when we are young + We long to tread a way none trod before, + But find the excellent old way through love, + And through the care of children, to the hour + For bidding Fate and Time and Change goodbye. + +(MARY _takes a sod of turf from the fire and goes out through the door_. +SHAWN _follows her and meets her coming in_.) + + SHAWN + + What is it draws you to the chill o' the wood? + There is a light among the stems of the trees + That makes one shiver. + + MARY + + A little queer old man + Made me a sign to show he wanted fire + To light his pipe. + + BRIDGET + + You've given milk and fire + Upon the unluckiest night of the year and brought, + For all you know, evil upon the house. + Before you married you were idle and fine + And went about with ribbons on your head; + And now--no, Father, I will speak my mind-- + She is not a fitting wife for any man---- + + SHAWN + + Be quiet, Mother! + + MAURTEEN + + You are much too cross. + + MARY + + What do I care if I have given this house, + Where I must hear all day a bitter tongue, + Into the power of faeries! + + BRIDGET + + You know well + How calling the good people by that name, + Or talking of them over much at all, + May bring all kinds of evil on the house. + + MARY + + Come, faeries, take me out of this dull house! + Let me have all the freedom I have lost; + Work when I will and idle when I will! + Faeries, come take me out of this dull world, + For I would ride with you upon the wind. + Run on the top of the dishevelled tide, + And dance upon the mountains like a flame. + + FATHER HART + + You cannot know the meaning of your words. + + MARY + + Father, I am right weary of four tongues: + A tongue that is too crafty and too wise, + A tongue that is too godly and too grave, + A tongue that is more bitter than the tide, + And a kind tongue too full of drowsy love, + Of drowsy love and my captivity. + +(SHAWN BRUIN _leads her to a seat at the left of the door_.) + + SHAWN + + Do not blame me; I often lie awake + Thinking that all things trouble your bright head. + How beautiful it is--your broad pale forehead + Under a cloudy blossoming of hair! + Sit down beside me here--these are too old, + And have forgotten they were ever young. + + MARY + + O, you are the great door-post of this house, + And I the branch of blessed quicken wood, + And if I could I'd hang upon the post, + Till I had brought good luck into the house. + +(_She would put her arms about him, but looks shyly at the priest and +lets her arms fall._) + + FATHER HART + + My daughter, take his hand--by love alone + God binds us to Himself and to the hearth, + That shuts us from the waste beyond His peace, + From maddening freedom and bewildering light. + + SHAWN + + Would that the world were mine to give it you, + And not its quiet hearths alone, but even + All that bewilderment of light and freedom, + If you would have it. + + MARY + + I would take the world + And break it into pieces in my hands + To see you smile watching it crumble away. + + SHAWN + + Then I would mould a world of fire and dew, + With no one bitter, grave or over wise, + And nothing marred or old to do you wrong, + And crowd the enraptured quiet of the sky + With candles burning to your lonely face. + + MARY + + Your looks are all the candles that I need. + + SHAWN + + Once a fly dancing in a beam of the sun, + Or the light wind blowing out of the dawn, + Could fill your heart with dreams none other knew, + But now the indissoluble sacrament + Has mixed your heart that was most proud and cold + With my warm heart for ever; the sun and moon + Must fade and heaven be rolled up like a scroll; + But your white spirit still walk by my spirit. + +(_A Voice singing in the wood._) + + MAURTEEN + + There's some one singing. Why, it's but a child. + It sang, "The lonely of heart is withered away." + A strange song for a child, but she sings sweetly. + Listen, listen! + +(_Goes to door._) + + MARY + + O, cling close to me, + Because I have said wicked things to-night. + + THE VOICE + + The wind blows out of the gates of the day, + The wind blows over the lonely of heart, + And the lonely of heart is withered away. + While the faeries dance in a place apart, + Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring, + Tossing their milk-white arms in the air; + For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing + Of a land where even the old are fair, + And even the wise are merry of tongue; + But I heard a reed of Coolaney say, + "When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung + The lonely of heart is withered away!" + + MAURTEEN + + Being happy, I would have all others happy, + So I will bring her in out of the cold. + +(_He brings in the faery child._) + + THE CHILD + + I tire of winds and waters and pale lights. + + MAURTEEN + + And that's no wonder, for when night has fallen + The wood's a cold and a bewildering place, + But you are welcome here. + + THE CHILD + + I am welcome here. + For when I tire of this warm little house + There is one here that must away, away. + + MAURTEEN + + O, listen to her dreamy and strange talk. + Are you not cold? + + THE CHILD + + I will crouch down beside you, + For I have run a long, long way this night. + + BRIDGET + + You have a comely shape. + + MAURTEEN + + Your hair is wet. + + BRIDGET + + I'll warm your chilly feet. + + MAURTEEN + + You have come indeed + A long, long way--for I have never seen + Your pretty face--and must be tired and hungry, + Here is some bread and wine. + + THE CHILD + + The wine is bitter. + Old mother, have you no sweet food for me? + + BRIDGET + + I have some honey. + +(_She goes into the next room._) + + MAURTEEN + + You have coaxing ways, + The mother was quite cross before you came. + +(BRIDGET _returns with the honey and fills a porringer with milk_.) + + BRIDGET + + She is the child of gentle people; look + At her white hands and at her pretty dress. + I've brought you some new milk, but wait a while + And I will put it to the fire to warm, + For things well fitted for poor folk like us + Would never please a high-born child like you. + + THE CHILD + + From dawn, when you must blow the fire ablaze, + You work your fingers to the bone, old mother. + The young may lie in bed and dream and hope, + But you must work your fingers to the bone + Because your heart is old. + + BRIDGET + + The young are idle. + + THE CHILD + + Your memories have made you wise, old father; + The young must sigh through many a dream and hope, + But you are wise because your heart is old. + +(BRIDGET _gives her more bread and honey_.) + + MAURTEEN + + O, who would think to find so young a girl + Loving old age and wisdom? + + THE CHILD + + No more, mother. + + MAURTEEN + + What a small bite! The milk is ready now. + (_Hands it to her._) What a small sip! + + THE CHILD + + Put on my shoes, old mother. + Now I would like to dance now I have eaten, + The reeds are dancing by Coolaney lake, + And I would like to dance until the reeds + And the white waves have danced themselves asleep. + +(BRIDGET _puts on the shoes, and the_ CHILD _is about to dance, but +suddenly sees the crucifix and shrieks and covers her eyes_.) + + What is that ugly thing on the black cross? + + FATHER HART + + You cannot know how naughty your words are! + That is our Blessed Lord. + + THE CHILD + + Hide it away! + + BRIDGET + + I have begun to be afraid again. + + THE CHILD + + Hide it away! + + MAURTEEN + + That would be wickedness! + + BRIDGET + + That would be sacrilege! + + THE CHILD + + The tortured thing! + Hide it away! + + MAURTEEN + + Her parents are to blame. + + FATHER HART + + That is the image of the Son of God. + + THE CHILD (_caressing him_) + + Hide it away, hide it away! + + MAURTEEN + + No, no. + + FATHER HART + + Because you are so young and like a bird, + That must take fright at every stir of the leaves, + I will go take it down. + + THE CHILD + + Hide it away! + And cover it out of sight and out of mind! + +(FATHER HART _takes crucifix from wall and carries it towards inner +room_.) + + FATHER HART + + Since you have come into this barony, + I will instruct you in our blessed faith; + And being so keen witted you'll soon learn. + +(_To the others._) + + We must be tender to all budding things, + Our Maker let no thought of Calvary + Trouble the morning stars in their first song. + +(_Puts crucifix in inner room._) + + THE CHILD + + Here is level ground for dancing; I will dance. + +(_Sings._) + + "The wind blows out of the gates of the day, + The wind blows over the lonely of heart, + And the lonely of heart is withered away." + +(_She dances._) + + MARY (_to_ SHAWN) + + Just now when she came near I thought I heard + Other small steps beating upon the floor, + And a faint music blowing in the wind, + Invisible pipes giving her feet the tune. + + SHAWN + + I heard no steps but hers. + + MARY + + I hear them now, + The unholy powers are dancing in the house. + + MAURTEEN + + Come over here, and if you promise me + Not to talk wickedly of holy things + I will give you something. + + THE CHILD + + Bring it me, old father. + + MAURTEEN + + Here are some ribbons that I bought in the town + For my son's wife--but she will let me give them + To tie up that wild hair the winds have tumbled. + + THE CHILD + + Come, tell me, do you love me? + + MAURTEEN + + Yes, I love you. + + THE CHILD + + Ah, but you love this fireside. Do you love me? + + FATHER HART + + When the Almighty puts so great a share + Of His own ageless youth into a creature, + To look is but to love. + + THE CHILD + + But you love Him? + + BRIDGET + + She is blaspheming. + + THE CHILD + + And do you love me too? + + MARY + + I do not know. + + THE CHILD + + You love that young man there, + Yet I could make you ride upon the winds, + Run on the top of the dishevelled tide, + And dance upon the mountains like a flame. + + MARY + + Queen of Angels and kind saints defend us! + Some dreadful thing will happen. A while ago + She took away the blessed quicken wood. + + FATHER HART + + You fear because of her unmeasured prattle; + She knows no better. Child, how old are you? + + THE CHILD + + When winter sleep is abroad my hair grows thin, + My feet unsteady. When the leaves awaken + My mother carries me in her golden arms; + I'll soon put on my womanhood and marry + The spirits of wood and water, but who can tell + When I was born for the first time? I think + I am much older than the eagle cock + That blinks and blinks on Ballygawley Hill, + And he is the oldest thing under the moon. + + FATHER HART + + O she is of the faery people. + + THE CHILD + + One called, + I sent my messengers for milk and fire, + She called again and after that I came. + +(_All except_ SHAWN _and_ MARY BRUIN _gather behind the priest for +protection_.) + + SHAWN (_rising_) + + Though you have made all these obedient, + You have not charmed my sight and won from me + A wish or gift to make you powerful; + I'll turn you from the house. + + FATHER HART + + No, I will face her. + + THE CHILD + + Because you took away the crucifix + I am so mighty that there's none can pass, + Unless I will it, where my feet have danced + Or where I've whirled my finger-tops. + +(SHAWN _tries to approach her and cannot_.) + + MAURTEEN + + Look, look! + There something stops him--look how he moves his hands + As though he rubbed them on a wall of glass! + + FATHER HART + + I will confront this mighty spirit alone; + Be not afraid, the Father is with us, + The Holy Martyrs and the Innocents, + The adoring Magi in their coats of mail, + And He who died and rose on the third day, + And all the nine angelic hierarchies. + +(_The_ CHILD _kneels upon the settle beside_ MARY _and puts her arms +about her_.) + + Cry, daughter, to the Angels and the Saints. + + THE CHILD + + You shall go with me, newly-married bride, + And gaze upon a merrier multitude. + White-armed Nuala, Aengus of the Birds, + Feacra of the hurtling foam, and him + Who is the ruler of the Western Host, + Finvarra, and their Land of Heart's Desire, + Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood, + But joy is wisdom, Time an endless song. + I kiss you and the world begins to fade. + + SHAWN + + Awake out of that trance--and cover up + Your eyes and ears. + + FATHER HART + + She must both look and listen, + For only the soul's choice can save her now. + Come over to me, daughter; stand beside me; + Think of this house and of your duties in it. + + THE CHILD + + Stay and come with me, newly-married bride, + For if you hear him you grow like the rest; + Bear children, cook, and bend above the churn, + And wrangle over butter, fowl, and eggs, + Until at last, grown old and bitter of tongue, + You're crouching there and shivering at the grave. + + FATHER HART + + Daughter, I point you out the way to Heaven. + + THE CHILD + + But I can lead you, newly-married bride, + Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise, + Where nobody gets old and godly and grave, + Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue, + And where kind tongues bring no captivity; + For we are but obedient to the thoughts + That drift into the mind at a wink of the eye. + + FATHER HART + + By the dear Name of the One crucified, + I bid you, Mary Bruin, come to me. + + THE CHILD + + I keep you in the name of your own heart. + + FATHER HART + + It is because I put away the crucifix + That I am nothing, and my power is nothing. + I'll bring it here again. + + MAURTEEN (_clinging to him_) + + No. + + BRIDGET + + Do not leave us. + + FATHER HART + + O, let me go before it is too late; + It is my sin alone that brought it all. + +(_Singing outside._) + + THE CHILD + + I hear them sing, "Come, newly-married bride, + Come, to the woods and waters and pale lights." + + MARY + + I will go with you. + + FATHER HART + + She is lost, alas! + + THE CHILD (_standing by the door_) + + But clinging mortal hope must fall from you, + For we who ride the winds, run on the waves, + And dance upon the mountains are more light + Than dewdrops on the banner of the dawn. + + MARY + + O, take me with you. + + SHAWN + + Beloved, I will keep you. + I've more than words, I have these arms to hold you, + Nor all the faery host, do what they please, + Shall ever make me loosen you from these arms. + + MARY + + Dear face! Dear voice! + + THE CHILD + + Come, newly-married bride. + + MARY + + I always loved her world--and yet--and yet---- + + THE CHILD + + White bird, white bird, come with me, little bird. + + MARY + + She calls me! + + THE CHILD + + Come with me, little bird. + +(_Distant dancing figures appear in the wood._) + + MARY + + I can hear songs and dancing. + + SHAWN + + Stay with me. + + MARY + + I think that I would stay--and yet--and yet---- + + THE CHILD + + Come, little bird, with crest of gold. + + MARY (_very softly_) + + And yet---- + + THE CHILD + + Come, little bird with silver feet! + +(MARY BRUIN _dies, and the_ CHILD _goes_.) + + SHAWN + + She is dead! + + BRIDGET + + Come from that image; body and soul are gone. + You have thrown your arms about a drift of leaves, + Or bole of an ash-tree changed into her image. + + FATHER HART + + Thus do the spirits of evil snatch their prey, + Almost out of the very hand of God; + And day by day their power is more and more, + And men and women leave old paths, for pride + Comes knocking with thin knuckles on the heart. + +(_Outside there are dancing figures, and it may be a white bird, and +many voices singing_:) + + "The wind blows out of the gates of the day, + The wind blows over the lonely of heart, + And the lonely of heart is withered away; + While the faeries dance in a place apart, + Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring, + Tossing their milk-white arms in the air; + For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing + Of a land where even the old are fair, + And even the wise are merry of tongue; + But I heard a reed of Coolaney say-- + 'When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung, + The lonely of heart is withered away.'" + + + + +CROSSWAYS + + + _"The stars are threshed, and the souls are threshed from their husks."_ + + WILLIAM BLAKE. + +To A.E. + + +THE SONG OF THE HAPPY SHEPHERD + + + The woods of Arcady are dead, + And over is their antique joy; + Of old the world on dreaming fed; + Gray Truth is now her painted toy; + Yet still she turns her restless head: + But O, sick children of the world, + Of all the many changing things + In dreary dancing past us whirled, + To the cracked tune that Chronos sings, + Words alone are certain good. + Where are now the warring kings, + Word be-mockers?--By the Rood + Where are now the warring kings? + An idle word is now their glory, + By the stammering schoolboy said, + Reading some entangled story: + The kings of the old time are fled + The wandering earth herself may be + Only a sudden flaming word, + In clanging space a moment heard, + Troubling the endless reverie. + + Then nowise worship dusty deeds, + Nor seek; for this is also sooth; + To hunger fiercely after truth, + Lest all thy toiling only breeds + New dreams, new dreams; there is no truth + Saving in thine own heart. Seek, then, + No learning from the starry men, + Who follow with the optic glass + The whirling ways of stars that pass-- + Seek, then, for this is also sooth, + No word of theirs--the cold star-bane + Has cloven and rent their hearts in twain, + And dead is all their human truth. + Go gather by the humming-sea + Some twisted, echo-harbouring shell, + And to its lips thy story tell, + And they thy comforters will be, + Rewarding in melodious guile, + Thy fretful words a little while, + Till they shall singing fade in ruth, + And die a pearly brotherhood; + For words alone are certain good: + Sing, then, for this is also sooth. + + I must be gone: there is a grave + Where daffodil and lily wave, + And I would please the hapless faun, + Buried under the sleepy ground, + With mirthful songs before the dawn. + His shouting days with mirth were crowned; + And still I dream he treads the lawn, + Walking ghostly in the dew, + Pierced by my glad singing through, + My songs of old earth's dreamy youth: + But ah! she dreams not now; dream thou! + For fair are poppies on the brow: + Dream, dream, for this is also sooth. + + +THE SAD SHEPHERD + + + There was a man whom Sorrow named his friend, + And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming, + Went walking with slow steps along the gleaming + And humming sands, where windy surges wend: + And he called loudly to the stars to bend + From their pale thrones and comfort him, but they + Among themselves laugh on and sing alway: + And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend + Cried out, _Dim sea, hear my most piteous story!_ + The sea swept on and cried her old cry still, + Rolling along in dreams from hill to hill; + He fled the persecution of her glory + And, in a far-off, gentle valley stopping, + Cried all his story to the dewdrops glistening, + But naught they heard, for they are always listening, + The dewdrops, for the sound of their own dropping. + And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend, + Sought once again the shore, and found a shell, + And thought, _I will my heavy story tell + Till my own words, re-echoing, shall send + Their sadness through a hollow, pearly heart; + And my own tale again for me shall sing, + And my own whispering words be comforting, + And lo! my ancient burden may depart_. + Then he sang softly nigh the pearly rim; + But the sad dweller by the sea-ways lone + Changed all he sang to inarticulate moan + Among her wildering whirls, forgetting him. + + +THE CLOAK, THE BOAT, AND THE SHOES + + + "What do you make so fair and bright?" + + "I make the cloak of Sorrow: + "O, lovely to see in all men's sight + "Shall be the cloak of Sorrow, + "In all men's sight." + + "What do you build with sails for flight?" + + "I build a boat for Sorrow, + "O, swift on the seas all day and night + "Saileth the rover Sorrow, + "All day and night." + + "What do you weave with wool so white? + + "I weave the shoes of Sorrow, + "Soundless shall be the footfall light + "In all men's ears of Sorrow, + "Sudden and light." + + +ANASHUYA AND VIJAYA + + + _A little Indian temple in the Golden Age. Around it a garden; + around that the forest._ ANASHUYA, _the young priestess, kneeling + within the temple_. + + ANASHUYA + + Send peace on all the lands and flickering corn.-- + O, may tranquillity walk by his elbow + When wandering in the forest, if he love + No other.--Hear, and may the indolent flocks + Be plentiful.--And if he love another, + May panthers end him.--Hear, and load our king + With wisdom hour by hour.--May we two stand, + When we are dead, beyond the setting suns, + A little from the other shades apart, + With mingling hair, and play upon one lute. + + VIJAYA [_entering and throwing a lily at her_] + + Hail! hail, my Anashuya. + + ANASHUYA + + No: be still. + I, priestess of this temple, offer up + Prayers for the land. + + VIJAYA + + I will wait here, Amrita. + + ANASHUYA + + By mighty Brahma's ever rustling robe, + Who is Amrita? Sorrow of all sorrows! + Another fills your mind. + + VIJAYA + + My mother's name. + + ANASHUYA [_sings, coming out of the temple_] + + _A sad, sad thought went by me slowly: + Sigh, O you little stars! O, sigh and shake your blue apparel! + The sad, sad thought has gone from me now wholly: + Sing, O you little stars! O, sing and raise your rapturous carol + To mighty Brahma, he who made you many as the sands, + And laid you on the gates of evening with his quiet hands._ + +[_Sits down on the steps of the temple._] + + Vijaya, I have brought my evening rice; + The sun has laid his chin on the gray wood, + Weary, with all his poppies gathered round him. + + VIJAYA + + The hour when Kama, full of sleepy laughter, + Rises, and showers abroad his fragrant arrows, + Piercing the twilight with their murmuring barbs. + + ANASHUYA + + See how the sacred old flamingoes come, + Painting with shadow all the marble steps: + Aged and wise, they seek their wonted perches + Within the temple, devious walking, made + To wander by their melancholy minds. + Yon tall one eyes my supper; swiftly chase him + Far, far away. I named him after you. + He is a famous fisher; hour by hour + He ruffles with his bill the minnowed streams. + Ah! there he snaps my rice. I told you so. + Now cuff him off. He's off! A kiss for you, + Because you saved my rice. Have you no thanks? + + VIJAYA [_sings_] + + _Sing you of her, O first few stars, + Whom Brahma, touching with his finger, praises, for you hold_ + _The van of wandering quiet; ere you be too calm and old, + Sing, turning in your cars, + Sing, till you raise your hands and sigh, and from your car heads peer, + With all your whirling hair, and drop many an azure tear._ + + ANASHUYA + + What know the pilots of the stars of tears? + + VIJAYA + + Their faces are all worn, and in their eyes + Flashes the fire of sadness, for they see + The icicles that famish all the north, + Where men lie frozen in the glimmering snow; + And in the flaming forests cower the lion + And lioness, with all their whimpering cubs; + And, ever pacing on the verge of things, + The phantom, Beauty, in a mist of tears; + While we alone have round us woven woods, + And feel the softness of each other's hand, + Amrita, while---- + + ANASHUYA [_going away from him_] + + Ah me, you love another, + +[_Bursting into tears._] + + And may some dreadful ill befall her quick! + + VIJAYA + + I loved another; now I love no other. + Among the mouldering of ancient woods + You live, and on the village border she, + With her old father the blind wood-cutter; + I saw her standing in her door but now. + + ANASHUYA + + Vijaya, swear to love her never more, + + VIJAYA + + Ay, ay. + + ANASHUYA + + Swear by the parents of the gods, + Dread oath, who dwell on sacred Himalay, + On the far Golden Peak; enormous shapes, + Who still were old when the great sea was young + On their vast faces mystery and dreams; + Their hair along the mountains rolled and filled + From year to year by the unnumbered nests + Of aweless birds, and round their stirless feet + The joyous flocks of deer and antelope, + Who never hear the unforgiving hound. + Swear! + + VIJAYA + + By the parents of the gods, I swear. + + ANASHUYA [_sings_] + + _I have forgiven, O new star! + Maybe you have not heard of us, you have come forth so newly, + You hunter of the fields afar! + Ah, you will know my loved one by his hunter's arrows truly, + Shoot on him shafts of quietness, that he may ever keep + An inner laughter, and may kiss his hands to me in sleep._ + + Farewell, Vijaya. Nay, no word, no word; + I, priestess of this temple, offer up + Prayers for the land. + +[VIJAYA _goes_.] + + O Brahma, guard in sleep + The merry lambs and the complacent kine, + The flies below the leaves, and the young mice + In the tree roots, and all the sacred flocks + Of red flamingo; and my love, Vijaya; + And may no restless fay with fidget finger + Trouble his sleeping: give him dreams of me. + + +THE INDIAN UPON GOD + + + I passed along the water's edge below the humid trees, + My spirit rocked in evening light, the rushes round my knees, + My spirit rocked in sleep and sighs; and saw the moorfowl pace + All dripping on a grassy slope, and saw them cease to chase + Each other round in circles, and heard the eldest speak: + _Who holds the world between His bill and made us strong or weak + Is an undying moorfowl, and He lives beyond the sky. + The rains are from His dripping wing, the moonbeams from His eye._ + I passed a little further on and heard a lotus talk: + _Who made the world and ruleth it, He hangeth on a stalk,_ + _For I am in His image made, and all this tinkling tide + Is but a sliding drop of rain between His petals wide._ + A little way within the gloom a roebuck raised his eyes + Brimful of starlight, and he said: _The Stamper of the Skies, + He is a gentle roebuck; for how else, I pray, could He + Conceive a thing so sad and soft, a gentle thing like me?_ + I passed a little further on and heard a peacock say: + _Who made the grass and made the worms and made my feathers gay, + He is a monstrous peacock, and He waveth all the night + His languid tail above us, lit with myriad spots of light._ + + +THE INDIAN TO HIS LOVE + + + The island dreams under the dawn + And great boughs drop tranquillity; + The peahens dance on a smooth lawn, + A parrot sways upon a tree, + Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea. + + Here we will moor our lonely ship + And wander ever with woven hands, + Murmuring softly lip to lip, + Along the grass, along the sands, + Murmuring how far away are the unquiet lands: + + How we alone of mortals are + Hid under quiet bows apart, + While our love grows an Indian star, + A meteor of the burning heart, + One with the tide that gleams, the wings that gleam and dart, + The heavy boughs, the burnished dove + That moans and sighs a hundred days: + How when we die our shades will rove, + When eve has hushed the feathered ways, + With vapoury footsole among the water's drowsy blaze. + + +THE FALLING OF THE LEAVES + + + Autumn is over the long leaves that love us, + And over the mice in the barley sheaves; + Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us, + And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves. + + The hour of the waning of love has beset us, + And weary and worn are our sad souls now; + Let us part, ere the season of passion forget us, + With a kiss and a tear on thy drooping brow. + + +EPHEMERA + + + "Your eyes that once were never weary of mine + "Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids, + "Because our love is waning." + + And then she: + "Although our love is waning, let us stand + "By the lone border of the lake once more, + "Together in that hour of gentleness + "When the poor tired child, Passion, falls asleep: + "How far away the stars seem, and how far + "Is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart!" + + Pensive they paced along the faded leaves, + While slowly he whose hand held hers replied: + "Passion has often worn our wandering hearts." + + The woods were round them, and the yellow leaves + Fell like faint meteors in the gloom, and once + A rabbit old and lame limped down the path; + Autumn was over him: and now they stood + On the lone border of the lake once more: + Turning, he saw that she had thrust dead leaves + Gathered in silence, dewy as her eyes, + In bosom and hair. + + "Ah, do not mourn," he said, + "That we are tired, for other loves await us; + "Hate on and love through unrepining hours. + "Before us lies eternity; our souls + "Are love, and a continual farewell." + + +THE MADNESS OF KING GOLL + + + I sat on cushioned otter skin: + My word was law from Ith to Emen, + And shook at Invar Amargin + The hearts of the world-troubling seamen. + And drove tumult and war away + From girl and boy and man and beast; + The fields grew fatter day by day, + The wild fowl of the air increased; + And every ancient Ollave said, + While he bent down his fading head, + "He drives away the Northern cold." + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + I sat and mused and drank sweet wine; + A herdsman came from inland valleys, + Crying, the pirates drove his swine + To fill their dark-beaked hollow galleys. + I called my battle-breaking men, + And my loud brazen battle-cars + From rolling vale and rivery glen, + And under the blinking of the stars + Fell on the pirates by the deep, + And hurled them in the gulph of sleep: + These hands won many a torque of gold. + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + But slowly, as I shouting slew + And trampled in the bubbling mire, + In my most secret spirit grew + A whirling and a wandering fire: + I stood: keen stars above me shone, + Around me shone keen eyes of men: + I laughed aloud and hurried on + By rocky shore and rushy fen; + I laughed because birds fluttered by, + And starlight gleamed, and clouds flew high, + And rushes waved and waters rolled. + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + And now I wander in the woods + When summer gluts the golden bees, + Or in autumnal solitudes + Arise the leopard-coloured trees; + Or when along the wintry strands + The cormorants shiver on their rocks; + I wander on, and wave my hands, + And sing, and shake my heavy locks. + The gray wolf knows me; by one ear + I lead along the woodland deer; + The hares run by me growing bold. + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + I came upon a little town, + That slumbered in the harvest moon, + And passed a-tiptoe up and down, + Murmuring, to a fitful tune, + How I have followed, night and day, + A tramping of tremendous feet, + And saw where this old tympan lay, + Deserted on a doorway seat, + And bore it to the woods with me; + Of some unhuman misery + Our married voiced wildly trolled. + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + I sang how, when day's toil is done, + Orchil shakes out her long dark hair + That hides away the dying sun + And sheds faint odours through the air: + When my hand passed from wire to wire + It quenched, with sound like falling dew, + The whirling and the wandering fire; + But lift a mournful ulalu, + For the kind wires are torn and still, + And I must wander wood and hill + Through summer's heat and winter's cold. + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + +THE STOLEN CHILD + + + Where dips the rocky highland + Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, + There lies a leafy island + Where flapping herons wake + The drowsy water rats; + There we've hid our faery vats, + Full of berries, + And of reddest stolen cherries. + _Come away, O human child! + To the waters and the wild + With a faery, hand in hand, + For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._ + + Where the wave of moonlight glosses + The dim gray sands with light, + Far off by furthest Rosses + We foot it all the night, + Weaving olden dances, + Mingling hands and mingling glances + Till the moon has taken flight; + To and fro we leap + And chase the frothy bubbles, + While the world is full of troubles + And is anxious in its sleep. + _Come away, O human child! + To the waters and the wild + With a faery, hand in hand, + For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._ + + Where the wandering water gushes + From the hills above Glen-Car, + In pools among the rushes + That scarce could bathe a star, + We seek for slumbering trout + And whispering in their ears + Give them unquiet dreams; + Leaning softly out + From ferns that drop their tears + Over the young streams, + _Come away, O human child! + To the waters and the wild + With a faery, hand in hand, + For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._ + + Away with us he's going, + The solemn-eyed: + He'll hear no more the lowing + Of the calves on the warm hillside + Or the kettle on the hob + Sing peace into his breast, + Or see the brown mice bob + Round and round the oatmeal-chest. + _For he comes, the human child, + To the waters and the wild + With a faery, hand in hand, + From a world more full of weeping than he can understand._ + + +TO AN ISLE IN THE WATER + + + Shy one, shy one, + Shy one of my heart, + She moves in the firelight + Pensively apart. + + She carries in the dishes, + And lays them in a row. + To an isle in the water + With her would I go. + + She carries in the candles, + And lights the curtained room, + Shy in the doorway + And shy in the gloom; + + And shy as a rabbit, + Helpful and shy. + To an isle in the water + With her would I fly. + + +DOWN BY THE SALLEY GARDENS + + + Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet; + She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet. + She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree; + But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree. + + In a field by the river my love and I did stand, + And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand. + She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs; + But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears. + + +THE MEDITATION OF THE OLD FISHERMAN + + + You waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play, + Though you glow and you glance, though you purr and you dart; + In the Junes that were warmer than these are, the waves were more gay, + _When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart_. + + The herring are not in the tides as they were of old; + My sorrow! for many a creak gave the creel in the cart + That carried the take to Sligo town to be sold, + _When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart_. + + And ah, you proud maiden, you are not so fair when his oar + Is heard on the water, as they were, the proud and apart, + Who paced in the eve by the nets on the pebbly shore, + _When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart_. + + +THE BALLAD OF FATHER O'HART + + + Good Father John O'Hart + In penal days rode out + To a shoneen who had free lands + And his own snipe and trout. + + In trust took he John's lands; + Sleiveens were all his race; + And he gave them as dowers to his daughters, + And they married beyond their place. + + But Father John went up, + And Father John went down; + And he wore small holes in his shoes, + And he wore large holes in his gown. + + All loved him, only the shoneen, + Whom the devils have by the hair, + From the wives, and the cats, and the children, + To the birds in the white of the air. + + The birds, for he opened their cages + As he went up and down; + And he said with a smile, "Have peace now"; + And he went his way with a frown. + + But if when any one died + Came keeners hoarser than rooks, + He bade them give over their keening; + For he was a man of books. + + And these were the works of John, + When weeping score by score, + People came into Coloony; + For he'd died at ninety-four. + + There was no human keening; + The birds from Knocknarea + And the world round Knocknashee + Came keening in that day. + + The young birds and old birds + Came flying, heavy and sad; + Keening in from Tiraragh, + Keening from Ballinafad; + + Keening from Inishmurray, + Nor stayed for bite or sup; + This way were all reproved + Who dig old customs up. + + +THE BALLAD OF MOLL MAGEE + + + Come round me, little childer; + There, don't fling stones at me + Because I mutter as I go; + But pity Moll Magee. + + My man was a poor fisher + With shore lines in the say; + My work was saltin' herrings + The whole of the long day. + + And sometimes from the saltin' shed, + I scarce could drag my feet + Under the blessed moonlight, + Along the pebbly street. + + I'd always been but weakly, + And my baby was just born; + A neighbour minded her by day + I minded her till morn. + + I lay upon my baby; + Ye little childer dear, + I looked on my cold baby + When the morn grew frosty and clear. + + A weary woman sleeps so hard! + My man grew red and pale, + And gave me money, and bade me go + To my own place, Kinsale. + + He drove me out and shut the door, + And gave his curse to me; + I went away in silence, + No neighbour could I see. + + The windows and the doors were shut, + One star shone faint and green + The little straws were turnin' round + Across the bare boreen. + + I went away in silence: + Beyond old Martin's byre + I saw a kindly neighbour + Blowin' her mornin' fire. + + She drew from me my story-- + My money's all used up, + And still, with pityin', scornin' eye, + She gives me bite and sup. + + She says my man will surely come, + And fetch me home agin; + But always, as I'm movin' round, + Without doors or within, + + Pilin' the wood or pilin' the turf, + Or goin' to the well, + I'm thinkin' of my baby + And keenin' to mysel'. + + And sometimes I am sure she knows + When, openin' wide His door, + God lights the stars, His candles, + And looks upon the poor. + + So now, ye little childer, + Ye won't fling stones at me; + But gather with your shinin' looks + And pity Moll Magee. + + +THE BALLAD OF THE FOXHUNTER + + + "Now lay me in a cushioned chair + "And carry me, you four, + "With cushions here and cushions there, + "To see the world once more. + + "And some one from the stables bring + "My Dermot dear and brown, + "And lead him gently in a ring, + "And gently up and down. + + "Now leave the chair upon the grass: + "Bring hound and huntsman here, + "And I on this strange road will pass, + "Filled full of ancient cheer." + + His eyelids droop, his head falls low, + His old eyes cloud with dreams; + The sun upon all things that grow + Pours round in sleepy streams. + + Brown Dermot treads upon the lawn, + And to the armchair goes, + And now the old man's dreams are gone, + He smooths the long brown nose. + + And now moves many a pleasant tongue + Upon his wasted hands, + For leading aged hounds and young + The huntsman near him stands. + + "My huntsman, Rody, blow the horn, + "And make the hills reply." + The huntsman loosens on the morn + A gay and wandering cry. + + A fire is in the old man's eyes, + His fingers move and sway, + And when the wandering music dies + They hear him feebly say, + + "My huntsman, Rody, blow the horn, + "And make the hills reply." + "I cannot blow upon my horn, + "I can but weep and sigh." + + The servants round his cushioned place + Are with new sorrow wrung; + And hounds are gazing on his face, + Both aged hounds and young. + + One blind hound only lies apart + On the sun-smitten grass; + He holds deep commune with his heart: + The moments pass and pass; + + The blind hound with a mournful din + Lifts slow his wintry head; + The servants bear the body in; + The hounds wail for the dead. + + + + +THE WANDERINGS OF USHEEN + + + "_Give me the world if Thou wilt, but grant me an asylum for my + affections._" + + TULKA. + +TO EDWIN J. ELLIS + + +BOOK I + + + S. PATRIC + + You who are bent, and bald, and blind, + With a heavy heart and a wandering mind, + Have known three centuries, poets sing, + Of dalliance with a demon thing. + + USHEEN + + Sad to remember, sick with years, + The swift innumerable spears, + The horsemen with their floating hair, + And bowls of barley, honey, and wine, + And feet of maidens dancing in tune, + And the white body that lay by mine; + But the tale, though words be lighter than air, + Must live to be old like the wandering moon. + + Caolte, and Conan, and Finn were there, + When we followed a deer with our baying hounds, + With Bran, Sgeolan, and Lomair, + And passing the Firbolgs' burial mounds, + Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill + Where passionate Maive is stony still; + And found on the dove-gray edge of the sea + A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode + On a horse with bridle of findrinny; + And like a sunset were her lips, + A stormy sunset on doomed ships; + A citron colour gloomed in her hair, + But down to her feet white vesture flowed, + And with the glimmering crimson glowed + Of many a figured embroidery; + And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell + That wavered like the summer streams, + As her soft bosom rose and fell. + + S. PATRIC + + You are still wrecked among heathen dreams. + + USHEEN + + "Why do you wind no horn?" she said. + "And every hero droop his head? + "The hornless deer is not more sad + "That many a peaceful moment had, + "More sleek than any granary mouse, + "In his own leafy forest house + "Among the waving fields of fern: + "The hunting of heroes should be glad." + + "O pleasant woman," answered Finn, + "We think on Oscar's pencilled urn, + "And on the heroes lying slain, + On Gavra's raven-covered plain; + "But where are your noble kith and kin, + "And from what country do you ride?" + + "My father and my mother are + "Aengus and Adene, my own name + "Niam, and my country far + "Beyond the tumbling of this tide." + + "What dream came with you that you came + "Through bitter tide on foam wet feet? + "Did your companion wander away + "From where the birds of Aengus wing?" + + She said, with laughter tender and sweet: + "I have not yet, war-weary king, + "Been spoken of with any one; + "Yet now I choose, for these four feet + "Ran through the foam and ran to this + "That I might have your son to kiss." + + "Were there no better than my son + "That you through all that foam should run?" + + "I loved no man, though kings besought + "Love, till the Danaan poets brought + "Rhyme, that rhymed to Usheen's name, + "And now I am dizzy with the thought + "Of all that wisdom and the fame + "Of battles broken by his hands, + "Of stories builded by his words + "That are like coloured Asian birds + "At evening in their rainless lands." + + O Patric, by your brazen bell, + There was no limb of mine but fell + Into a desperate gulph of love! + "You only will I wed," I cried, + "And I will make a thousand songs, + "And set your name all names above. + "And captives bound with leathern thongs + "Shall kneel and praise you, one by one, + "At evening in my western dun." + + "O Usheen, mount by me and ride + "To shores by the wash of the tremulous tide, + "Where men have heaped no burial mounds, + "And the days pass by like a wayward tune, + "Where broken faith has never been known, + "And the blushes of first love never have flown; + "And there I will give you a hundred hounds; + "No mightier creatures bay at the moon; + "And a hundred robes of murmuring silk, + "And a hundred calves and a hundred sheep + "Whose long wool whiter than sea froth flows, + "And a hundred spears and a hundred bows, + "And oil and wine and honey and milk, + "And always never-anxious sleep; + "While a hundred youths, mighty of limb, + "But knowing nor tumult nor hate nor strife, + "And a hundred maidens, merry as birds, + "Who when they dance to a fitful measure + "Have a speed like the speed of the salmon herds, + "Shall follow your horn and obey your whim, + "And you shall know the Danaan leisure: + "And Niam be with you for a wife." + Then she sighed gently, "It grows late, + "Music and love and sleep await, + "Where I would be when the white moon climbs + "The red sun falls, and the world grows dim." + + And then I mounted and she bound me + With her triumphing arms around me, + And whispering to herself enwound me; + But when the horse had felt my weight, + He shook himself and neighed three times: + Caolte, Conan, and Finn came near, + And wept, and raised their lamenting hands, + And bid me stay, with many a tear; + But we rode out from the human lands. + + In what far kingdom do you go, + Ah, Fenians, with the shield and bow? + Or are you phantoms white as snow, + Whose lips had life's most prosperous glow? + O you, with whom in sloping valleys, + Or down the dewy forest alleys, + I chased at morn the flying deer, + With whom I hurled the hurrying spear, + And heard the foemen's bucklers rattle, + And broke the heaving ranks of battle! + And Bran, Sgeolan, and Lomair, + Where are you with your long rough hair? + You go not where the red deer feeds, + Nor tear the foemen from their steeds. + + S. PATRIC + + Boast not, nor mourn with drooping head + Companions long accurst and dead, + And hounds for centuries dust and air. + + USHEEN + + We galloped over the glossy sea: + I know not if days passed or hours, + And Niam sang continually + Danaan songs, and their dewy showers + Of pensive laughter, unhuman sound, + Lulled weariness, and softly round + My human sorrow her white arms wound. + + We galloped; now a hornless deer + Passed by us, chased by a phantom hound + All pearly white, save one red ear; + And now a maiden rode like the wind + With an apple of gold in her tossing hand; + And a beautiful young man followed behind + With quenchless gaze and fluttering hair. + + "Were these two born in the Danaan land, + "Or have they breathed the mortal air?" + + "Vex them no longer," Niam said, + And sighing bowed her gentle head, + And sighing laid the pearly tip + Of one long finger on my lip. + + But now the moon like a white rose shone + In the pale west, and the sun's rim sank, + And clouds arrayed their rank on rank + About his fading crimson ball: + The floor of Emen's hosting hall + Was not more level than the sea, + As full of loving phantasy, + And with low murmurs we rode on, + Where many a trumpet-twisted shell + That in immortal silence sleeps + Dreaming of her own melting hues, + Her golds, her ambers, and her blues, + Pierced with soft light the shallowing deeps. + + But now a wandering land breeze came + And a far sound of feathery quires; + It seemed to blow from the dying flame, + They seemed to sing in the smouldering fires. + The horse towards the music raced, + Neighing along the lifeless waste; + Like sooty fingers, many a tree + Rose ever out of the warm sea; + And they were trembling ceaselessly, + As though they all were beating time, + Upon the centre of the sun, + To that low laughing woodland rhyme. + And, now our wandering hours were done, + We cantered to the shore, and knew + The reason of the trembling trees: + Round every branch the song-birds flew, + Or clung thereon like swarming bees; + While round the shore a million stood + Like drops of frozen rainbow light, + And pondered in a soft vain mood + Upon their shadows in the tide, + And told the purple deeps their pride, + And murmured snatches of delight; + And on the shores were many boats + With bending sterns and bending bows. + + And carven figures on their prows + Of bitterns, and fish-eating stoats, + And swans with their exultant throats: + And where the wood and waters meet + We tied the horse in a leafy clump, + And Niam blew three merry notes + Out of a little silver trump; + And then an answering whispering flew + Over the bare and woody land, + A whisper of impetuous feet, + And ever nearer, nearer grew; + And from the woods rushed out a band + Of men and maidens, hand in hand, + And singing, singing altogether; + Their brows were white as fragrant milk, + Their cloaks made out of yellow silk, + And trimmed with many a crimson feather: + And when they saw the cloak I wore + Was dim with mire of a mortal shore, + They fingered it and gazed on me + And laughed like murmurs of the sea; + But Niam with a swift distress + Bid them away and hold their peace; + And when they heard her voice they ran + And knelt them, every maid and man + And kissed, as they would never cease, + Her pearl-pale hand and the hem of her dress. + She bade them bring us to the hall + Where Aengus dreams, from sun to sun, + A Druid dream of the end of days + When the stars are to wane and the world be done. + + They led us by long and shadowy ways + Where drops of dew in myriads fall, + And tangled creepers every hour + Blossom in some new crimson flower, + And once a sudden laughter sprang + From all their lips, and once they sang + Together, while the dark woods rang, + And made in all their distant parts, + With boom of bees in honey marts, + A rumour of delighted hearts. + And once a maiden by my side + Gave me a harp, and bid me sing, + And touch the laughing silver string; + But when I sang of human joy + A sorrow wrapped each merry face, + And, Patric! by your beard, they wept, + Until one came, a tearful boy; + "A sadder creature never stept + "Than this strange human bard," he cried; + And caught the silver harp away, + And, weeping over the white strings, hurled + It down in a leaf-hid, hollow place + That kept dim waters from the sky; + And each one said, with a long, long sigh, + "O saddest harp in all the world, + "Sleep there till the moon and the stars die!" + + And now still sad we came to where + A beautiful young man dreamed within + A house of wattles, clay, and skin; + One hand upheld his beardless chin, + And one a sceptre flashing out + Wild flames of red and gold and blue, + Like to a merry wandering rout + Of dancers leaping in the air; + And men and maidens knelt them there + And showed their eyes with teardrops dim, + And with low murmurs prayed to him, + And kissed the sceptre with red lips, + And touched it with their finger-tips. + + He held that flashing sceptre up. + "Joy drowns the twilight in the dew, + "And fills with stars night's purple cup, + "And wakes the sluggard seeds of corn, + "And stirs the young kid's budding horn. + "And makes the infant ferns unwrap, + "And for the peewit paints his cap, + "And rolls along the unwieldy sun, + "And makes the little planets run: + "And if joy were not on the earth, + "There were an end of change and birth, + "And earth and heaven and hell would die, + "And in some gloomy barrow lie + "Folded like a frozen fly; + "Then mock at Death and Time with glances + "And wavering arms and wandering dances. + + "Men's hearts of old were drops of flame + "That from the saffron morning came, + "Or drops of silver joy that fell + "Out of the moon's pale twisted shell; + "But now hearts cry that hearts are slaves, + "And toss and turn in narrow caves; + "But here there is nor law nor rule, + "Nor have hands held a weary tool; + "And here there is nor Change nor Death, + "But only kind and merry breath, + "For joy is God and God is joy." + With one long glance on maid and boy + And the pale blossom of the moon, + He fell into a Druid swoon. + + And in a wild and sudden dance + We mocked at Time and Fate and Chance + And swept out of the wattled hall + And came to where the dewdrops fall + Among the foamdrops of the sea, + And there we hushed the revelry; + And, gathering on our brows a frown, + Bent all our swaying bodies down, + And to the waves that glimmer by + That sloping green De Danaan sod + Sang "God is joy and joy is God. + "And things that have grown sad are wicked, + "And things that fear the dawn of the morrow + "Or the gray wandering osprey Sorrow." + + We danced to where in the winding thicket + The damask roses, bloom on bloom, + Like crimson meteors hang in the gloom, + And bending over them softly said, + Bending over them in the dance, + With a swift and friendly glance + From dewy eyes: "Upon the dead + "Fall the leaves of other roses, + "On the dead dim earth encloses: + "But never, never on our graves, + "Heaped beside the glimmering waves, + "Shall fall the leaves of damask roses. + "For neither Death nor Change comes near us, + "And all listless hours fear us, + "And we fear no dawning morrow, + "Nor the gray wandering osprey Sorrow." + + The dance wound through the windless woods; + The ever-summered solitudes; + Until the tossing arms grew still + Upon the woody central hill; + And, gathered in a panting band, + We flung on high each waving hand, + And sang unto the starry broods: + In our raised eyes there flashed a glow + Of milky brightness to and fro + As thus our song arose: "You stars, + "Across your wandering ruby cars + "Shake the loose reins: you slaves of God + "He rules you with an iron rod, + "He holds you with an iron bond, + "Each one woven to the other, + "Each one woven to his brother + "Like bubbles in a frozen pond; + "But we in a lonely land abide + "Unchainable as the dim tide, + "With hearts that know nor law nor rule, + "And hands that hold no wearisome tool + "Folded in love that fears no morrow, + "Nor the gray wandering osprey Sorrow." + + O Patric! for a hundred years + I chased upon that woody shore + The deer, the badger, and the boar. + O Patric! for a hundred years + At evening on the glimmering sands, + Beside the piled-up hunting spears, + These now outworn and withered hands + Wrestled among the island bands. + O Patric! for a hundred years + We went a-fishing in long boats + With bending sterns and bending bows, + And carven figures on their prows + Of bitterns and fish-eating stoats. + O Patric! for a hundred years + The gentle Niam was my wife; + But now two things devour my life; + The things that most of all I hate; + Fasting and prayers. + + S. PATRIC + + Tell on. + + USHEEN + + Yes, yes, + For these were ancient Usheen's fate + Loosed long ago from heaven's gate, + For his last days to lie in wait. + + When one day by the tide I stood, + I found in that forgetfulness + Of dreamy foam a staff of wood + From some dead warrior's broken lance: + I turned it in my hands; the stains + Of war were on it, and I wept, + Remembering how the Fenians stept + Along the blood-bedabbled plains, + Equal to good or grievous chance: + Thereon young Niam softly came + And caught my hands, but spake no word + Save only many times my name, + In murmurs, like a frighted bird. + We passed by woods, and lawns of clover, + And found the horse and bridled him, + For we knew well the old was over. + I heard one say "His eyes grow dim + "With all the ancient sorrow of men"; + And wrapped in dreams rode out again + With hoofs of the pale findrinny + Over the glimmering purple sea: + Under the golden evening light. + The immortals moved among the fountains + By rivers and the woods' old night; + Some danced like shadows on the mountains, + Some wandered ever hand in hand, + Or sat in dreams on the pale strand; + Each forehead like an obscure star + Bent down above each hooked knee: + And sang, and with a dreamy gaze + Watched where the sun in a saffron blaze + Was slumbering half in the sea ways; + And, as they sang, the painted birds + Kept time with their bright wings and feet; + Like drops of honey came their words, + But fainter than a young lamb's bleat. + + "An old man stirs the fire to a blaze, + "In the house of a child, of a friend, of a brother + "He has over-lingered his welcome; the days, + "Grown desolate, whisper and sigh to each other; + "He hears the storm in the chimney above, + "And bends to the fire and shakes with the cold, + "While his heart still dreams of battle and love, + "And the cry of the hounds on the hills of old. + + "But we are apart in the grassy places, + "Where care cannot trouble the least of our days, + "Or the softness of youth be gone from our faces, + "Or love's first tenderness die in our gaze. + "The hare grows old as she plays in the sun + "And gazes around her with eyes of brightness; + "Before the swift things that she dreamed of were done + "She limps along in an aged whiteness; + "A storm of birds in the Asian trees + "Like tulips in the air a-winging, + "And the gentle waves of the summer seas, + "That raise their heads and wander singing. + "Must murmur at last 'Unjust, unjust'; + "And 'My speed is a weariness,' falters the mouse + "And the kingfisher turns to a ball of dust, + "And the roof falls in of his tunnelled house. + + "But the love-dew dims our eyes till the day + "When God shall come from the sea with a sigh + "And bid the stars drop down from the sky, + "And the moon like a pale rose wither away." + + +BOOK II + + + Now, man of croziers, shadows called our names + And then away, away, like whirling flames; + And now fled by, mist-covered, without sound, + The youth and lady and the deer and hound; + "Gaze no more on the phantoms," Niam said, + And kissed my eyes, and, swaying her bright head + And her bright body, sang of faery and man + Before God was or my old line began; + Wars shadowy, vast, exultant; faeries of old + Who wedded men with rings of Druid gold; + And how those lovers never turn their eyes + Upon the life that fades and flickers and dies, + But love and kiss on dim shores far away + Rolled round with music of the sighing spray: + But sang no more, as when, like a brown bee + That has drunk full, she crossed the misty sea + With me in her white arms a hundred years + Before this day; for now the fall of tears + Troubled her song. + + I do not know if days + Or hours passed by, yet hold the morning rays + Shone many times among the glimmering flowers + Woven into her hair, before dark towers + Rose in the darkness, and the white surf gleamed + About them; and the horse of faery screamed + And shivered, knowing the Isle of many Fears, + Nor ceased until white Niam stroked his ears + And named him by sweet names. + + A foaming tide + Whitened afar with surge, fan-formed and wide, + Burst from a great door marred by many a blow + From mace and sword and pole-axe, long ago + When gods and giants warred. We rode between + The seaweed-covered pillars, and the green + And surging phosphorus alone gave light + On our dark pathway, till a countless flight + Of moonlit steps glimmered; and left and right + Dark statues glimmered over the pale tide + Upon dark thrones. Between the lids of one + The imaged meteors had flashed and run + And had disported in the stilly jet, + And the fixed stars had dawned and shone and set, + Since God made Time and Death and Sleep: the other + Stretched his long arm to where, a misty smother, + The stream churned, churned, and churned--his lips apart, + As though he told his never slumbering heart + Of every foamdrop on its misty way: + Tying the horse to his vast foot that lay + Half in the unvesselled sea, we climbed the stairs + And climbed so long, I thought the last steps were + Hung from the morning star; when these mild words + Fanned the delighted air like wings of birds: + "My brothers spring out of their beds at morn, + "A-murmur like young partridge: with loud horn + "They chase the noontide deer; + "And when the dew-drowned stars hang in the air + "Look to long fishing-lines, or point and pare + "An ash-wood hunting spear. + + "O sigh, O fluttering sigh, be kind to me; + "Flutter along the froth lips of the sea, + "And shores, the froth lips wet: + "And stay a little while, and bid them weep: + "Ah, touch their blue-veined eyelids if they sleep, + "And shake their coverlet. + + "When you have told how I weep endlessly, + "Flutter along the froth lips of the sea + "And home to me again, + "And in the shadow of my hair lie hid, + "And tell me how you came to one unbid, + "The saddest of all men." + + A maiden with soft eyes like funeral tapers, + And face that seemed wrought out of moonlit vapours, + And a sad mouth, that fear made tremulous + As any ruddy moth, looked down on us; + And she with a wave-rusted chain was tied + To two old eagles, full of ancient pride, + That with dim eyeballs stood on either side. + Few feathers were on their dishevelled wings, + For their dim minds were with the ancient things. + + "I bring deliverance," pearl-pale Niam said. + + "Neither the living, nor the unlabouring dead, + "Nor the high gods who never lived, may fight + "My enemy and hope; demons for fright + "Jabber and scream about him in the night; + "For he is strong and crafty as the seas + "That sprang under the Seven Hazel Trees, + "And I must needs endure and hate and weep, + "Until the gods and demons drop asleep, + "Hearing Aed touch the mournful strings of gold." + + "Is he so dreadful?" + + "Be not over bold, + "But flee while you may flee from him." + + Then I: + "This demon shall be pierced and drop and die, + "And his loose bulk be thrown in the loud tide." + + "Flee from him," pearl-pale Niam weeping cried, + "For all men flee the demons"; but moved not + My angry, king remembering soul one jot; + There was no mightier soul of Heber's line; + Now it is old and mouse-like: for a sign + I burst the chain: still earless, nerveless, blind, + Wrapped in the things of the unhuman mind, + In some dim memory or ancient mood + Still earless, nerveless, blind, the eagles stood. + + And then we climbed the stair to a high door; + A hundred horsemen on the basalt floor + Beneath had paced content: we held our way + And stood within: clothed in a misty ray + I saw a foam-white seagull drift and float + Under the roof, and with a straining throat + Shouted, and hailed him: he hung there a star, + For no man's cry shall ever mount so far; + Not even your God could have thrown down that hall; + Stabling His unloosed lightnings in their stall, + He had sat down and sighed with cumbered heart, + As though His hour were come. + + We sought the part + That was most distant from the door; green slime + Made the way slippery, and time on time + Showed prints of sea-born scales, while down through it + The captive's journeys to and fro were writ + Like a small river, and, where feet touched, came + A momentary gleam of phosphorus flame. + Under the deepest shadows of the hall + That maiden found a ring hung on the wall, + And in the ring a torch, and with its flare + Making a world about her in the air, + Passed under a dim doorway, out of sight + And came again, holding a second light + Burning between her fingers, and in mine + Laid it and sighed: I held a sword whose shine + No centuries could dim: and a word ran + Thereon in Ogham letters, "Mananan"; + That sea god's name, who in a deep content + Sprang dripping, and, with captive demons sent + Out of the seven-fold seas, built the dark hall + Rooted in foam and clouds, and cried to all + The mightier masters of a mightier race; + And at his cry there came no milk-pale face + Under a crown of thorns and dark with blood, + But only exultant faces. + + Niam stood + With bowed head, trembling when the white blade shone, + But she whose hours of tenderness were gone + Had neither hope nor fear. I bade them hide + Under the shadows till the tumults died + Of the loud crashing and earth shaking fight, + Lest they should look upon some dreadful sight; + And thrust the torch between the slimy flags. + A dome made out of endless carven jags, + Where shadowy face flowed into shadowy face, + Looked down on me; and in the self-same place + I waited hour by hour, and the high dome, + Windowless, pillarless, multitudinous home + Of faces, waited; and the leisured gaze + Was loaded with the memory of days + Buried and mighty. When through the great door + The dawn came in, and glimmered on the floor + With a pale light, I journeyed round the hall + And found a door deep sunken in the wall, + The least of doors; beyond on a dim plain + A little runnel made a bubbling strain, + And on the runnel's stony and bare edge + A husky demon dry as a withered sedge + Swayed, crooning to himself an unknown tongue: + In a sad revelry he sang and swung + Bacchant and mournful, passing to and fro + His hand along the runnel's side, as though + The flowers still grew there: far on the sea's waste + Shaking and waving, vapour vapour chased, + While high frail cloudlets, fed with a green light, + Like drifts of leaves, immovable and bright, + Hung in the passionate dawn. He slowly turned: + A demon's leisure: eyes, first white, now burned + Like wings of kingfishers; and he arose + Barking. We trampled up and down with blows + Of sword and brazen battle-axe, while day + Gave to high noon and noon to night gave way; + And when at withering of the sun he knew + The Druid sword of Mananan, he grew + To many shapes; I lunged at the smooth throat + Of a great eel; it changed, and I but smote + A fir-tree roaring in its leafless top; + I held a dripping corpse, with livid chop + And sunken shape, against my face and breast, + When I tore down the tree; but when the west + Surged up in plumy fire, I lunged and drave + Through heart and spine, and cast him in the wave, + Lest Niam shudder. + + Full of hope and dread + Those two came carrying wine and meat and bread, + And healed my wounds with unguents out of flowers + That feed white moths by some De Danaan shrine; + Then in that hall, lit by the dim sea shine, + We lay on skins of otters, and drank wine, + Brewed by the sea-gods, from huge cups that lay + Upon the lips of sea-gods in their day; + And then on heaped-up skins of otters slept. + But when the sun once more in saffron stept, + Rolling his flagrant wheel out of the deep, + We sang the loves and angers without sleep, + And all the exultant labours of the strong: + + But now the lying clerics murder song + With barren words and flatteries of the weak. + In what land do the powerless turn the beak + Of ravening Sorrow, or the hand of Wrath? + For all your croziers, they have left the path + And wander in the storms and clinging snows, + Hopeless for ever: ancient Usheen knows, + For he is weak and poor and blind, and lies + On the anvil of the world. + + S. PATRIC + + Be still: the skies + Are choked with thunder, lightning, and fierce wind, + For God has heard, and speaks His angry mind; + Go cast your body on the stones and pray, + For He has wrought midnight and dawn and day. + + USHEEN + + Saint, do you weep? I hear amid the thunder + The Fenian horses; armour torn asunder; + Laughter and cries; the armies clash and shock; + All is done now; I see the ravens flock; + Ah, cease, you mournful, laughing Fenian horn! + + We feasted for three days. On the fourth morn + I found, dropping sea foam on the wide stair, + And hung with slime, and whispering in his hair, + That demon dull and unsubduable; + And once more to a day-long battle fell, + And at the sundown threw him in the surge, + To lie until the fourth morn saw emerge + His new healed shape: and for a hundred years + So warred, so feasted, with nor dreams nor fears, + Nor languor nor fatigue: and endless feast, + An endless war. + + The hundred years had ceased; + I stood upon the stair: the surges bore + A beech bough to me, and my heart grew sore, + Remembering how I had stood by white-haired Finn + Under a beech at Emen and heard the thin + Outcry of bats. + + And then young Niam came + Holding that horse, and sadly called my name; + I mounted, and we passed over the lone + And drifting grayness, while this monotone, + Surly and distant, mixed inseparably + Into the clangour of the wind and sea. + + "I hear my soul drop down into decay, + "And Mananan's dark tower, stone by stone, + "Gather sea slime and fall the seaward way, + "And the moon goad the waters night and day, + "That all be overthrown. + + "But till the moon has taken all, I wage + "War on the mightiest men under the skies, + "And they have fallen or fled, age after age: + "Light is man's love, and lighter is man's rage; + "His purpose drifts and dies." + + And then lost Niam murmured, "Love, we go + "To the Island of Forgetfulness, for lo! + "The Islands of Dancing and of Victories + "Are empty of all power." + + "And which of these + "Is the Island of Content?" + + "None know," she said; + And on my bosom laid her weeping head. + + +BOOK III + + + Fled foam underneath us, and around us, a wandering and milky smoke, + High as the saddle girth, covering away from our glances the tide; + And those that fled, and that followed, from the + foam-pale distance broke; + The immortal desire of immortals we saw in their faces, and sighed. + + I mused on the chase with the Fenians, and Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair, + And never a song sang Niam, and over my finger-tips + Came now the sliding of tears and sweeping of mist-cold hair, + And now the warmth of sighs, and after the quiver of lips. + + Were we days long or hours long in riding, when rolled in a grisly peace, + An isle lay level before us, with dripping hazel and oak? + And we stood on a sea's edge we saw not; for whiter + than new-washed fleece + Fled foam underneath us, and round us, a wandering and milky smoke. + + And we rode on the plains of the sea's edge; the sea's edge + barren and gray, + Gray sand on the green of the grasses and over the dripping trees, + Dripping and doubling landward, as though they would hasten away + Like an army of old men longing for rest from the moan of the seas. + + But the trees grew taller and closer, immense in their wrinkling bark; + Dropping; a murmurous dropping; old silence and that one sound; + For no live creatures lived there, no weasels moved in the dark: + Long sighs arose in our spirits, beneath us bubbled the ground. + + And the ears of the horse went sinking away in the hollow night, + For, as drift from a sailor slow drowning the gleams + of the world and the sun, + Ceased on our hands and our faces, on hazel and oak leaf, the light, + And the stars were blotted above us, and the whole of the world was one. + + Till the horse gave a whinny; for, cumbrous with stems + of the hazel and oak, + A valley flowed down from his hoofs, and there in the long grass lay, + Under the starlight and shadow, a monstrous slumbering folk, + Their naked and gleaming bodies poured out and heaped in the way. + + And by them were arrow and war-axe, arrow and shield and blade; + And dew-blanched horns, in whose hollow a child of three years old + Could sleep on a couch of rushes, and all inwrought and inlaid, + And more comely than man can make them with bronze and silver and gold. + + And each of the huge white creatures was huger than fourscore men; + The tops of their ears were feathered, their hands were + the claws of birds, + And, shaking the plumes of the grasses and the leaves of the mural glen, + The breathing came from those bodies, long-warless, + grown whiter than curds. + + The wood was so spacious above them, that He who had stars for His flocks + Could fondle the leaves with His fingers, nor go from + His dew-cumbered skies; + So long were they sleeping, the owls had builded their nests + in their locks, + Filling the fibrous dimness with long generations of eyes. + + And over the limbs and the valley the slow owls wandered and came, + Now in a place of star-fire, and now in a shadow place wide; + And the chief of the huge white creatures, his knees + in the soft star-flame, + Lay loose in a place of shadow: we drew the reins by his side. + + Golden the nails of his bird-claws, flung loosely along the dim ground; + In one was a branch soft-shining, with bells more many than sighs, + In midst of an old man's bosom; owls ruffling and pacing around, + Sidled their bodies against him, filling the shade with their eyes. + + And my gaze was thronged with the sleepers; no, + not since the world began, + In realms where the handsome were many, nor in glamours by demons flung, + Have faces alive with such beauty been known to the salt eye of man, + Yet weary with passions that faded when the seven-fold seas were young. + + And I gazed on the bell-branch, sleep's forebear, + far sung by the Sennachies. + I saw how those slumberers, grown weary, there camping in grasses deep, + Of wars with the wide world and pacing the shores of the wandering seas, + Laid hands on the bell-branch and swayed it, and fed of unhuman sleep. + + Snatching the horn of Niam, I blew a lingering note; + Came sound from those monstrous sleepers, a sound like + the stirring of flies. + He, shaking the fold of his lips, and heaving the pillar of his throat, + Watched me with mournful wonder out of the wells of his eyes. + + I cried, "Come out of the shadow, king of the nails of gold! + "And tell of your goodly household and the goodly works of your hands, + "That we may muse in the starlight and talk of the battles of old; + "Your questioner, Usheen, is worthy, he comes from the Fenian lands." + + Half open his eyes were, and held me, dull with + the smoke of their dreams; + His lips moved slowly in answer, no answer out of them came; + Then he swayed in his fingers the bell-branch, slow dropping + a sound in faint streams + Softer than snow-flakes in April and piercing the marrow like flame. + + Wrapt in the wave of that music, with weariness more than of earth, + The moil of my centuries filled me; and gone like a sea-covered stone + Were the memories of the whole of my sorrow and the memories + of the whole of my mirth, + And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone. + + In the roots of the grasses, the sorrels, I laid my body as low; + And the pearl-pale Niam lay by me, her brow on the midst of my breast; + And the horse was gone in the distance, and years after years 'gan flow; + Square leaves of the ivy moved over us, binding us down to our rest. + + And, man of the many white croziers, a century there I forgot; + How the fetlocks drip blood in the battle, when + the fallen on fallen lie rolled; + How the falconer follows the falcon in the weeds of the heron's plot, + And the names of the demons whose hammers made armour for Conhor of old. + + And, man of the many white croziers, a century there I forgot; + That the spear-shaft is made out of ashwood, the shield + out of ozier and hide; + How the hammers spring on the anvil, on the spearhead's burning spot; + How the slow, blue-eyed oxen of Finn low sadly at evening tide. + + But in dreams, mild man of the croziers, driving the dust + with their throngs, + Moved round me, of seamen or landsmen, all who are winter tales; + Came by me the kings of the Red Branch, with roaring + of laughter and songs, + Or moved as they moved once, love-making or piercing + the tempest with sails. + + Came Blanid, Mac Nessa, tall Fergus who feastward of old time slunk, + Cook Barach, the traitor; and warward, the spittle + on his beard never dry, + Dark Balor, as old as a forest, car borne, his mighty head sunk + Helpless, men lifting the lids of his weary and death-making eye. + + And by me, in soft red raiment, the Fenians moved in loud streams, + And Grania, walking and smiling, sewed with her needle of bone, + So lived I and lived not, so wrought I and wrought not, + with creatures of dreams, + In a long iron sleep, as a fish in the water goes dumb as a stone. + + At times our slumber was lightened. When the sun was on silver or gold; + When brushed with the wings of the owls, in the dimness + they love going by; + When a glow-worm was green on a grass leaf, lured from + his lair in the mould; + Half wakening, we lifted our eyelids, and gazed on the grass with a sigh. + + So watched I when, man of the croziers, at the heel of a century fell, + Weak, in the midst of the meadow, from his miles in the midst of the air, + A starling like them that forgathered 'neath a moon waking + white as a shell. + When the Fenians made foray at morning with Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair. + + I awoke: the strange horse without summons out of the distance ran, + Thrusting his nose to my shoulder; he knew in his bosom deep + That once more moved in my bosom the ancient sadness of man, + And that I would leave the immortals, their dimness, + their dews dropping sleep. + + O, had you seen beautiful Niam grow white as the waters are white, + Lord of the croziers, you even had lifted your hands and wept: + But, the bird in my fingers, I mounted, remembering alone that delight + Of twilight and slumber were gone, and that hoofs impatiently stept. + + I cried, "O Niam! O white one! if only a twelve-houred day, + "I must gaze on the beard of Finn, and move where the old men and young + "In the Fenians' dwellings of wattle lean on the chessboards and play, + "Ah, sweet to me now were even bald Conan's slanderous tongue! + + "Like me were some galley forsaken far off in Meridian isle. + "Remembering its long-oared companions, sails turning + to thread-bare rags; + "No more to crawl on the seas with long oars mile after mile, + "But to be amid shooting of flies and flowering of rushes and flags." + + Their motionless eyeballs of spirits grown mild with mysterious thought + Watched her those seamless faces from the valley's glimmering girth; + As she murmured, "O wandering Usheen, the strength of the + bell-branch is naught, + "For there moves alive in your fingers the fluttering sadness of earth. + + "Then go through the lands in the saddle and see what the mortals do, + "And softly come to your Niam over the tops of the tide; + "But weep for your Niam, O Usheen, weep; for if only your shoe + "Brush lightly as haymouse earth's pebbles, you will come + no more to my side. + + "O flaming lion of the world, O when will you turn to your rest?" + "I saw from a distant saddle; from the earth she made her moan; + "I would die like a small withered leaf in the autumn, + for breast unto breast + "We shall mingle no more, nor our gazes empty their sweetness lone. + + "In the isles of the farthest seas where only the spirits come. + "Were the winds less soft than the breath of a pigeon + who sleeps on her nest, + "Nor lost in the star-fires and odours the sound of the sea's vague drum? + "O flaming lion of the world, O when will you turn to your rest?" + + The wailing grew distant; I rode by the woods of the wrinkling bark, + Where ever is murmurous dropping, old silence and that one sound; + For no live creatures live there, no weasels move in the dark; + In a reverie forgetful of all things, over the bubbling ground. + + And I rode by the plains of the sea's edge, where all is barren and gray, + Gray sands on the green of the grasses and over the dripping trees, + Dripping and doubling landward, as though they would hasten away, + Like an army of old men lounging for rest from the moan of the seas. + + And the winds made the sands on the sea's edge turning and turning go, + As my mind made the names of the Fenians. Far from the hazel and oak, + I rode away on the surges, where, high as the saddle bow, + Fled foam underneath me, and round me, a wandering and milky smoke. + + Long fled the foam-flakes around me, the winds fled out of the vast, + Snatching the bird in secret; nor knew I, embosomed apart, + When they froze the cloth on my body like armour riveted fast, + For Remembrance, lifting her leanness, keened in the gates of my heart. + + Till fattening the winds of the morning, an odour of new-mown hay + Came, and my forehead fell low, and my tears like berries fell down; + Later a sound came, half lost in the sound of a shore far away, + From the great grass-barnacle calling, and later the shore-weeds brown. + + If I were as I once was, the strong hoofs crushing + the sand and the shells, + Coming out of the sea as the dawn comes, a chaunt of love on my lips, + Not coughing, my head on my knees, and praying, and wroth with the bells, + I would leave no saint's head on his body from Rachlin to Bera of ships. + + Making way from the kindling surges, I rode on a bridle-path + Much wondering to see upon all hands, of wattles and woodwork made, + Your bell-mounted churches, and guardless the sacred cairn and the rath, + And a small and a feeble populace stooping with mattock and spade. + + Or weeding or ploughing with faces a-shining with much-toil wet; + While in this place and that place, with bodies unglorious, + their chieftains stood, + Awaiting in patience the straw-death, croziered one, caught in your net: + Went the laughter of scorn from my mouth like the roaring + of wind in a wood. + + And because I went by them so huge and so speedy with eyes so bright, + Came after the hard gaze of youth, or an old man lifted his head: + And I rode and I rode, and I cried out, "The Fenians hunt + wolves in the night, + So sleep thee by daytime." A voice cried, "The Fenians + a long time are dead." + + A whitebeard stood hushed on the pathway, the flesh + of his face as dried grass, + And in folds round his eyes and his mouth, he sad + as a child without milk; + And the dreams of the islands were gone, and I knew how + men sorrow and pass, + And their hound, and their horse, and their love, and their eyes + that glimmer like silk. + + And wrapping my face in my hair, I murmured, "In old age they ceased"; + And my tears were larger than berries, and I murmured, + "Where white clouds lie spread + "On Crevroe or broad Knockfefin, with many of old they feast + "On the floors of the gods." He cried, "No, the gods + a long time are dead." + + And lonely and longing for Niam, I shivered and turned me about, + The heart in me longing to leap like a grasshopper into her heart; + I turned and rode to the westward, and followed the sea's old shout + Till I saw where Maive lies sleeping till starlight and midnight part. + + And there at the foot of the mountain, two carried a sack full of sand, + They bore it with staggering and sweating, but fell + with their burden at length: + Leaning down from the gem-studded saddle, I flung it + five yards with my hand, + With a sob for men waxing so weakly, a sob for the Fenian's old strength. + + The rest you have heard of, O croziered one; how, when divided the girth, + I fell on the path, and the horse went away like a summer fly; + And my years three hundred fell on me, and I rose, + and walked on the earth, + A creeping old man, full of sleep, with the spittle + on his beard never dry. + + How the men of the sand-sack showed me a church with its belfry in air; + Sorry place, where for swing of the war-axe in my dim eyes + the crozier gleams; + What place have Caolte and Conan, and Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair? + Speak, you too are old with your memories, an old man surrounded + with dreams. + + S. PATRIC + + Where the flesh of the footsole clingeth on the burning stones + is their place; + Where the demons whip them with wires on the burning stones of wide hell, + Watching the blessed ones move far off, and the smile on God's face, + Between them a gateway of brass, and the howl of the angels who fell. + + USHEEN + + Put the staff in my hands; for I go to the Fenians, O cleric, to chaunt + The war-songs that roused them of old; they will rise, making clouds + with their breath + Innumerable, singing, exultant; the clay underneath them shall pant, + And demons be broken in pieces, and trampled beneath them in death. + + And demons afraid in their darkness; deep horror of eyes and of wings, + Afraid their ears on the earth laid, shall listen and rise up and weep; + Hearing the shaking of shields and the quiver of stretched bowstrings, + Hearing hell loud with a murmur, as shouting and mocking we sweep. + + We will tear out the flaming stones, and batter the gateway of brass + And enter, and none sayeth "No" when there enters the strongly + armed guest; + Make clean as a broom cleans, and march on as oxen move over young grass; + Then feast, making converse of wars, and of old wounds, + and turn to our rest. + + S. PATRIC + + On the flaming stones, without refuge, the limbs of the Fenians are tost; + None war on the masters of Hell, who could break up the world + in their rage; + But kneel and wear out the flags and pray for your soul that is lost + Through the demon love of its youth and its godless and passionate age. + + USHEEN + + Ah, me! to be shaken with coughing and broken with old age and pain, + Without laughter, a show unto children, alone with remembrance and fear; + All emptied of purple hours as a beggar's cloak in the rain, + As a hay-cock out on the flood, or a wolf sucked under a weir. + + It were sad to gaze on the blessed and no man I loved of old there; + I throw down the chain of small stones! when life in my body has ceased, + I will go to Caolte, and Conan, and Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair, + And dwell in the house of the Fenians, be they in flames or at feast. + + + + +GLOSSARY AND NOTES + + +_The Pronunciation of the Irish Words._--When I wrote the greater number +of these poems I had hardly considered the question seriously. I copied +at times somebody's perhaps fanciful phonetic spelling, and at times the +ancient spelling as I found it in some literal translation, pronouncing +the words always as they were spelt. I do not suppose I would have +defended this system at any time, but I do not yet know what system to +adopt. The modern pronunciation, which is usually followed by those who +spell the words phonetically, is certainly unlike the pronunciation of +the time when classical Irish literature was written, and, so far as I +know, no Irish scholar who writes in English or French has made that +minute examination of the way the names come into the rhythms and +measures of the old poems which can alone discover the old +pronunciation. A French Celtic scholar gave me the pronunciation of a +few names, and told me that Mr. Whitley Stokes had written something +about the subject in German, but I am ignorant of German. If I ever +learn the old pronunciation, I will revise all these poems, but at +present I can only affirm that I have not treated my Irish names as +badly as the mediæval writers of the stories of King Arthur treated +their Welsh names. + +_Mythological Gods and Heroes._--I refer the reader for such names as +Balor and Finn and Usheen to Lady Gregory's "Cuchulain of Muirthemne" +and to her "Gods and Fighting Men." + +_The Ballad of Father Gilligan._--A tradition among the people of +Castleisland, Kerry. + +_The Ballad of Father O'Hart._--This ballad is founded on the story of a +certain Father O'Hart, priest of Coloony, Sligo, in the last century, as +told by the present priest of Coloony in his _History of Ballisodare and +Kilvarnet_. The robbery of the lands of Father O'Hart was a kind of +robbery which occurred but rarely during the penal laws. Catholics, +forbidden to own landed property, evaded the law by giving a Protestant +nominal possession of their estates. There are instances on record in +which poor men were nominal owners of immense estates. + +_The Ballad of the Foxhunter._--Founded on an incident, probably itself +a Tipperary tradition, in Kickham's _Knockagow_. + +_Bell-branch._--A legendary branch whose shaking casts all men into a +sleep. + +_The Countess Cathleen._--I found the story of the Countess Cathleen in +what professed to be a collection of Irish folk-lore in an Irish +newspaper some years ago. I wrote to the compiler, asking about its +source, but got no answer, but have since heard that it was translated +from _Les Matinées de Timothè Trimm_ a good many years ago, and has been +drifting about the Irish press ever since. Léo Lespès gives it as an +Irish story, and though the editor of _Folklore_ has kindly advertised +for information, the only Christian variant I know of is a Donegal tale, +given by Mr. Larminie in his _West Irish Folk Tales and Romances_, of a +woman who goes to hell for ten years to save her husband, and stays +there another ten, having been granted permission to carry away as many +souls as could cling to her skirt. Léo Lespès may have added a few +details, but I have no doubt of the essential antiquity of what seems to +me the most impressive form of one of the supreme parables of the world. +The parable came to the Greeks in the sacrifice of Alcestis, but her +sacrifice was less overwhelming, less apparently irremediable. Léo +Lespès tells the story as follows:-- + + Ce que je vais vous dire est un récit du carême Irlandais. Le + boiteux, l'aveugle, le paralytique des rues de Dublin ou de + Limerick, vous le diraient mieux que moi, cher lecteur, si vous + alliez le leur demander, un sixpense d'argent à la main.--Il n'est + pas une jeune fille catholique à laquelle on ne l'ait appris + pendant les jours de préparation à la communion sainte, pas un + berger des bords de la Blackwater qui ne le puisse redire à la + veillée. + + Il y a bien longtemps qu'il apparut tout-à-coup dans la vielle + Irlande deux marchands inconnus dont personne n'avait ouï parler, + et qui parlaient néanmoins avec la plus grande perfection la langue + du pays. Leurs cheveux étaient noirs et ferrés avec de l'or et + leurs robes d'une grande magnificence. + + Tous deux semblaient avoir le même âge; ils paraissaient être des + hommes de cinquante ans, car leur barbe grisonnait un peu. + + Or, à cette époque, comme aujourd'hui, l'Irlande était pauvre, car + le soleil avait été rare, et des récoltes presque nulles. Les + indigents ne savaient à quel sainte se vouer, et la misère devenait + de plus en plus terrible. + + Dans l'hôtellerie où descendirent les marchands fastueux on chercha + à pénétrer leurs desseins: mais ce fut en vain, ils demeurèrent + silencieux et discrets. + + Et pendant qu'ils demeurèrent dans l'hôtellerie, ils ne cessèrent + de compter et de recompter des sacs de pièces d'or, dont la vive + clarté s'apercevait à travers les vitres du logis. + + Gentlemen, leur dit l'hôtesse un jour, d'où vient que vous êtes si + opulents, et que, venus pour secourir la misère publique, vous ne + fassiez pas de bonnes oeuvres? + + --Belle hôtesse, répondit l'un d'eux, nous n'avons pas voulu aller + au-devant d'infortunes honorables, dans la crainte d'être trompés + par des misères fictives: que la douleur frappe à la porte, nous + ouvrirons. + + Le lendemain, quand on sut qu'il existait deux opulents étrangers + prêts à prodiguer l'or, la foule assiégea leur logis; mais les + figures des gens qui en sortaient étaient bien diverses. Les uns + avaient la fierté dans le regard, les autres portaient la honte au + front. Les deux trafiquants achetaient des âmes pour le démon. + L'âme d'un vieillard valait vingt pièces d'or, pas un penny de + plus; car Satan avait eu le temps d'y former hypothèque. L'âme + d'une épose en valait cinquante quand elle était jolie, ou cent + quand elle était laide. L'âme d'une jeune fille se payait des prix + fous: les fleurs les plus belles et les plus pures sont les plus + chères. + + Pendant ce temps, il existait dans la ville un ange de beauté, la + comtesse Ketty O'Connor. Elle était l'idole du peuple, et la + providence des indigents. Dès qu'elle eut appris que des mécréants + profitaient de la misère publique pour dérober des coeurs à Dieu, + elle fit appeler son majordome. + + --Master Patrick, lui dit elle, combien ai-je de pièces d'or dans + mon coffre? + + --Cent mille. + + --Combien de bijoux? + + --Peur autant d'argent. + + --Combien de châteux, de bois et de terres? + + --Pour le double de ces sommes. + + --Eh bien! Patrick, vendez tout ce qui n'est pas or et + apportez-m'en le montant. Je ne veux garder à moi que ce castel et + le champ qui l'entoure. + + Deux jours après, les ordres de la pieuse Ketty étaient exécutés et + le trésor était distribué aux pauvres au fur et à mesure de leurs + besoins. + + Ceci ne faisait pas le compte, dit la tradition, des + commis-voyageurs du malin esprit, qui ne trouvaient plus d'âmes à + acheter. + + Aidés par un valet infâme, ils pénétrèrent dans la retraite de la + noble dame et lui dérobèrent le reste de son trésor ... en vain + lutta-t-elle de toutes ses forces pour sauver le contenu de son + coffre, les larrons diaboliques furent les plus forts. Si Ketty + avait eu les moyens de faire un signe de croix, ajoute la légende + Irlandaise, elle les eût mis en fuite, mais ses mains étaient + captives--Le larcin fut effectué. Alors les pauvres sollicitèrent + en vain près de Ketty dépouillée, elle ne pouvait plus secourir + leur misère;--elle les abandonnait à la tentation. Pourtant il n'y + avait plus que huit jours à passer pour que les grains et lea + fourrages arrivassent en abondance des pays d'Orient. Mais, huit + jours, c'était un siècle: huit jours nécessitaient une somme + immense pour subvenir aux exigences de la disette, et les pauvres + allaient ou expirer dans les angousses de la faim, ou, reniant les + saintes maximes de l'Evangile, vendre à vil prix leur âme, le plus + beau présent de la munificence du Seigneur tout-puissant. + + Et Ketty n'avait plus une obole, car elle avait abandonné son + châteux aux malheureux. + + Elle passa douze heures dans les larmes et le deuil, arrachant ses + cheveux couleur de soleil et meurtrissant son sein couleur du lis: + puis elle se leva résolue, animée par un vif sentiment de + désespoir. + + Elle se rendit chez les marchands d'âmes. + + --Que voulez-vous? dirent ils. + + --Vous achetez des âmes? + + --Oui, un peu malgré vous, n'est ce pas, sainte aux yeux de saphir? + + --Aujourd'hui je viens vous proposer un marché, reprit elle. + + --Lequel? + + --J'ai une âme a vendre; mais elle est chère. + + --Qu'importe si elle est précieuse? l'âme, comme le diamant, + s'apprécie à sa blancheur. + + --C'est la mienne, dit Ketty. + + Les deux envoyés de Satan tressaillirent. Leurs griffes + s'allongèrent sous leurs gants de cuir; leurs yeux gris + étincelèrent--l'âme, pure, immaculée, virginale de Ketty!... + c'était une acquisition inappréciable. + + --Gentille dame, combien voulez-vous? + + --Cent cinquante mille écus d'or. + + --C'est fait, dirent les marchands: et ils tendirent à Ketty un + parchemin cacheté de noir, qu'elle signa en frissonnant. + + La somme lui fut comptée. + + Des qu'elle fut rentrée, elle dit au majordome: + + --Tenez, distribuez ceci. Avec la somme que je vous donne les + pauvres attendront la huitaine nécessaire et pas une de leurs âmes + ne sera livrée au démon. + + Puis elle s'enferma et recommanda qu'on ne vint pas la déranger. + + Trois jours se passèrent; elle n'appela pas; elle ne sortit pas. + + Quand on ouvrit sa porte, on la trouva raide et froide: elle était + morte de douleur. + + Mais la vente de cette âme si adorable dans sa charité fut déclarée + nulle par le Seigneur: car elle avait sauvé ses concitoyens de la + morte éternelle. + + Après la huitaine, des vaisseaux nombreux amenèrent à l'Irlande + affamée d'immenses provisions de grains. + + La famine n'était plus possible. Quant aux marchands, ils + disparurent de leur hôtellerie, sans qu'on sût jamais ce qu'ils + étaient devenus. + + Toutefois, les pêcheurs de la Blackwater prétendent qu'ils sont + enchainés dans une prison souterraine par ordre de Lucifer jusqu'au + moment où ils pourront livrer l'âme de Ketty qui leur a échappé. Je + vous dis la légende telle que je la sais. + + --Mais les pauvres l'ont raconté d'âge en âge et les enfants de + Cork et de Dublin chantent encore la ballade dont voici les + derniers couplets:-- + + Pour sauver les pauvres qu'elle aime + Ketty donna + Son esprit, sa croyance même: + Satan paya + Cette âme au dévoûment sublime, + En écus d'or, + Disons pour racheter son crime, + _Confiteor_. + + Mais l'ange qui se fit coupable + Par charité + Au séjour d'amour ineffable + Est remonté. + Satan vaincu n'eut pas de prise + Sur ce coeur d'or; + Chantons sous la nef de l'église, + _Confiteor_. + + N'est ce pas que ce récit, né de l'imagination des poètes + catholiques de la verte Erin, est une véritable récit de carême? + +_The Countess Cathleen_ was acted in Dublin in 1899, with Mr. Marcus St. +John and Mr. Trevor Lowe as the First and Second Demon, Mr. Valentine +Grace as Shemus Rua, Master Charles Sefton as Teig, Madame San Carola as +Mary, Miss Florence Farr as Aleel, Miss Anna Mather as Oona, Mr. Charles +Holmes as the Herdsman, Mr. Jack Wilcox as the Gardener, Mr. Walford as +a Peasant, Miss Dorothy Paget as a Spirit, Miss M. Kelly as a Peasant +Woman, Mr. T.E. Wilkinson as a Servant, and Miss May Whitty as The +Countess Kathleen. They had to face a very vehement opposition stirred +up by a politician and a newspaper, the one accusing me in a pamphlet, +the other in long articles day after day, of blasphemy because of the +language of the demons or of Shemus Rua, and because I made a woman sell +her soul and yet escape damnation, and of a lack of patriotism because I +made Irish men and women, who, it seems, never did such a thing, sell +theirs. The politician or the newspaper persuaded some forty Catholic +students to sign a protest against the play, and a Cardinal, who avowed +that he had not read it, to make another, and both politician and +newspaper made such obvious appeals to the audience to break the peace, +that a score or so of police were sent to the theatre to see that they +did not. I had, however, no reason to regret the result, for the stalls, +containing almost all that was distinguished in Dublin, and a gallery of +artisans alike insisted on the freedom of literature. + +After the performance in 1899 I added the love scene between Aleel and +the Countess, and in this new form the play was revived in New York by +Miss Wycherley as well as being played a good deal in England and +America by amateurs. Now at last I have made a complete revision to make +it suitable for performance at the Abbey Theatre. The first two scenes +are almost wholly new, and throughout the play I have added or left out +such passages as a stage experience of some years showed me encumbered +the action; the play in its first form having been written before I knew +anything of the theatre. I have left the old end, however, in the +version printed in the body of this book, because the change for +dramatic purposes has been made for no better reason than that +audiences--even at the Abbey Theatre--are almost ignorant of Irish +mythology--or because a shallow stage made the elaborate vision of armed +angels upon a mountain-side impossible. The new end is particularly +suited to the Abbey stage, where the stage platform can be brought out +in front of the proscenium and have a flight of steps at one side up +which the Angel comes, crossing towards the back of the stage at the +opposite side. The principal lighting is from two arc lights in the +balcony which throw their lights into the faces of the players, making +footlights unnecessary. The room at Shemus Rua's house is suggested by a +great grey curtain--a colour which becomes full of rich tints under the +stream of light from the arcs. The two or more arches in the third scene +permit the use of a gauze. The short front scene before the last is just +long enough when played with incidental music to allow the scene set +behind it to be changed. The play when played without interval in this +way lasts a little over an hour. + +The play was performed at the Abbey Theatre for the first time on +December 14, 1911, Miss Maire O'Neill taking the part of the Countess, +and the last scene from the going out of the Merchants was as follows:-- + + (MERCHANTS _rush out_. ALEEL _crawls into the middle of the room; + the twilight has fallen and gradually darkens as the scene goes + on_.) + + ALEEL + + They're rising up--they're rising through the earth, + Fat Asmodel and giddy Belial, + And all the fiends. Now they leap in the air. + But why does Hell's gate creak so? Round and round. + Hither and hither, to and fro they're running. + +(_He moves about as though the air was full of spirits._ OONA _enters_.) + + Crouch down, old heron, out of the blind storm. + + OONA + + Where is the Countess Cathleen? All this day + Her eyes were full of tears, and when for a moment + Her hand was laid upon my hand, it trembled. + And now I do not know where she is gone. + + ALEEL + + Cathleen has chosen other friends than us, + And they are rising through the hollow world. + Demons are out, old heron. + + OONA + + God guard her soul. + + ALEEL + + She's bartered it away this very hour, + As though we two were never in the world. + +(_He kneels beside her, but does not seem to hear her words. The_ +PEASANTS _return. They carry the_ COUNTESS CATHLEEN _and lay her upon +the ground before_ OONA _and_ ALEEL. _She lies there as if dead._) + + OONA + + O, that so many pitchers of rough clay + Should prosper and the porcelain break in two! + +(_She kisses the hands of_ CATHLEEN.) + + A PEASANT + + We were under the tree where the path turns + When she grew pale as death and fainted away. + + CATHLEEN + + O, hold me, and hold me tightly, for the storm + Is dragging me away. + +(OONA _takes her in her arms_. A WOMAN _begins to wail_.) + + PEASANTS + + Hush! + + PEASANTS + + Hush! + + PEASANT WOMEN + + Hush! + + OTHER PEASANT WOMEN + + Hush! + + CATHLEEN (_half rising_) + + Lay all the bags of money in a heap, + And when I am gone, old Oona, share them out + To every man and woman: judge, and give + According to their needs. + + A PEASANT WOMAN + + And will she give + Enough to keep my children through the dearth? + + ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN + + O, Queen of Heaven, and all you blessed saints, + Let us and ours be lost, so she be shriven. + + CATHLEEN + + Bend down your faces, Oona and Aleel; + I gaze upon them as the swallow gazes + Upon the nest under the eave, before + She wander the loud waters. Do not weep + Too great a while, for there is many a candle + On the High Altar though one fall. Aleel, + Who sang about the dancers of the woods, + That know not the hard burden of the world, + Having but breath in their kind bodies, farewell! + And farewell, Oona, you who played with me + And bore me in your arms about the house + When I was but a child--and therefore happy, + Therefore happy even like those that dance. + The storm is in my hair and I must go. + +(_She dies._) + + + OONA + + Bring me the looking-glass. + +(A WOMAN _brings it to her out of inner room_. OONA _holds glass over +the lips of_ CATHLEEN. _All is silent for a moment, then she speaks in a +half-scream._) + + O, she is dead! + + A PEASANT + + She was the great white lily of the world. + + A PEASANT + + She was more beautiful than the pale stars. + + AN OLD PEASANT WOMAN + + The little plant I loved is broken in two. + +(ALEEL _takes looking-glass from_ OONA _and flings it upon floor, so +that it is broken in many pieces_.) + + ALEEL + + I shatter you in fragments, for the face + That brimmed you up with beauty is no more; + And die, dull heart, for you that were a mirror + Are but a ball of passionate dust again! + And level earth and plumy sea, rise up! + And haughty sky, fall down! + + A PEASANT WOMAN + + Pull him upon his knees, + His curses will pluck lightning on our heads. + + ALEEL + + Angels and devils clash in the middle air, + And brazen swords clang upon brazen helms. + Look, look, a spear has gone through Belial's eye! + +(_A winged_ ANGEL, _carrying a torch and a sword, enters from the_ R. +_with eyes fixed upon some distant thing. The_ ANGEL _is about to pass +out to the_ L. _when_ ALEEL _speaks. The_ ANGEL _stops a moment and +turns_.) + + Look no more on the half-closed gates of Hell, + But speak to me whose mind is smitten of God, + That it may be no more with mortal things: + And tell of her who lies there. + +(_The_ ANGEL _turns again and is about to go, but is seized by_ ALEEL.) + + Till you speak + You shall not drift into eternity. + + THE ANGEL + + The light beats down; the gates of pearl are wide. + And she is passing to the floor of peace, + And Mary of the seven times wounded heart + Has kissed her lips, and the long blessed hair + Has fallen on her face; the Light of Lights + Looks always on the motive, not the deed, + The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone. + +(ALEEL _releases the_ ANGEL _and kneels_.) + + OONA + + Tell them to walk upon the floor of peace, + That I would die and go to her I love; + The years like great black oxen tread the world, + And God the herdsman goads them on behind, + And I am broken by their passing feet. + +_Down by the Salley Gardens._--An extension of three lines sung to me by +an old woman at Ballisodare. + +_Findrinny (Findruine)._--A kind of white bronze. + +_Finvarra (Finbar)._--The king of the faeries of Connaught. + +_Hell._--In the older Irish books Hell is always cold, and it may be +because the Fomoroh, or evil powers, ruled over the north and the +winter. Christianity adopted as far as possible the Pagan symbolism in +Ireland as elsewhere, and Irish poets, when they spoke of "the cold +flagstone of Hell," may have repeated Pagan symbolism. The folk-tales, +and Keating in his description of Hell, make use, however, of the +ordinary symbolism of fire. + +_The Lamentation of the Pensioner._--This poem is little more than a +translation into verse of the very words of an old Wicklow peasant. Fret +means doom or destiny. + +_The Land of Heart's Desire._--This little play was produced at the +Avenue Theatre in the spring of 1894, with the following cast:--Maurteen +Bruin, Mr. James Welch; Shawn Bruin, Mr. A.E.W. Mason; Father Hart, Mr. +G.R. Foss; Bridget Bruin, Miss Charlotte Morland; Maire Bruin, Miss +Winifred Fraser; A Faery Child, Miss Dorothy Paget. It ran for a little +over six weeks. It was revived in America in 1901, when it was taken on +tour by Mrs. Lemoyne. It has been played two or three times +professionally since then in America and a great many times in England +and America by amateurs. Till lately it was not part of the repertory of +the Abbey Theatre, for I had grown to dislike it without knowing what I +disliked in it. This winter, however, I have made many revisions and now +it plays well enough to give me pleasure. It is printed in this book in +the new form, which was acted for the first time on February 22, 1912, +at the Abbey Theatre, Dublin. At the Abbey Theatre, where the platform +of the stage comes out in front of the curtain, the curtain falls before +the priest's last words. He remains outside the curtain and the words +are spoken to the audience like an epilogue. + +_The Meditation of the Old Fisherman._--This poem is founded upon some +things a fisherman said to me when out fishing in Sligo Bay. + +_Northern Cold._--The Fomor, the powers of death and darkness and cold +and evil, came from the north. + +_Nuala._--The wife of Finvarra. + +_Rose._--The rose is a favourite symbol with the Irish poets, and has +given a name to several poems both Gaelic and English, and is used in +love poems, in addresses to Ireland like Mr. Aubrey de Vere's poem +telling how "The little black rose shall be red at last," and in +religious poems, like the old Gaelic one which speaks of "the Rose of +Friday," meaning the Rose of Austerity. + +_Salley._--Willow. + +_Seven Hazel-trees._--There was once a well overshadowed by seven sacred +hazel-trees, in the midst of Ireland. A certain woman plucked their +fruit, and seven rivers arose out of the well and swept her away. In my +poems this well is the source of all the waters of this world, which are +therefore seven-fold. + +_The Wanderings of Usheen._--The poem is founded upon the middle Irish +dialogues of S. Patric and Usheen and a certain Gaelic poem of the last +century. The events it describes, like the events in most of the poems +in this volume, are supposed to have taken place rather in the +indefinite period, made up of many periods, described by the folk-tales, +than in any particular century; it therefore, like the later Fenian +stories themselves, mixes much that is mediæval with much that is +ancient. The Gaelic poems do not make Usheen go to more than one island, +but a story in _Silva Gadelica_ describes "four paradises," an island to +the north, an island to the west, an island to the south, and Adam's +paradise in the east. + + _Printed in Great Britain by_ + + UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED + WOKING AND LONDON + + Transcriber's Notes: + Page 16: 'thictkes' changed to 'thickets' + Page 172: 'He brings in' could be 'She brings in' + Page 263: 'Before this duy' changed to 'Before this day' + Page 290: 'Far from the hazel and oak.' changed to 'Far from + the hazel and oak,' + Page 295: 'move far off' could be 'move far oft' + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by W. B. 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B. Yeats + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poems + +Author: W. B. Yeats + +Release Date: February 14, 2012 [EBook #38877] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Irma Špehar, Rory OConor and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i"></a></span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii"></a></span></p> + +<h1>POEMS</h1> + +<div class="bbox center p6"> +<p class="center u">EVERY IRISHMAN'S LIBRARY</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Cr. 8vo., cloth, 3s. 6d. net each. With Frontispieces.</i></p> + +<p class="center">LIST OF VOLUMES</p> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Volumes"> +<tr><td align="right">1.</td><td align="left">Thomas Davis. <span class="smcap">Selections from his Prose and Poetry.</span> Edited by <span class="smcap">T.W. Rolleston</span>, M.A. (Dublin).</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">2.</td><td align="left">Wild Sports of the West. By <span class="smcap">W.H. Maxwell</span>. Edited by the <span class="smcap">Earl of Dunraven</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">3.</td><td align="left">Legends of Saints and Sinners from the Irish. Edited by <span class="smcap">Douglas Hyde</span>, LL.D. (Dublin).</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">4.</td><td align="left">The Book of Irish Humour. Edited by <span class="smcap">Charles L. Graves</span>, M.A. (Oxon.).</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">5.</td><td align="left">Irish Orators and Oratory. With an Introduction by Professor <span class="smcap">T.M. Kettle</span>, M.P.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">6.</td><td align="left">The Book of Irish Poetry. Edited by <span class="smcap">Alfred Perceval Graves</span>, M.A. (Dublin).</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">7.</td><td align="left">Standish O'Grady. <span class="smcap">Selected Essays and Passages.</span> Edited by <span class="smcap">Ernest A. Boyd</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">8.</td><td align="left">Recollections of Jonah Barrington. Edited by <span class="smcap">George A. Birmingham</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">9.</td><td align="left">Poems of Sir Samuel Ferguson. Edited by <span class="smcap">Alfred Perceval Graves</span>, M.A.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">10.</td><td align="left">Carleton's Stories of Irish Life. With an Introduction by <span class="smcap">Darrell Figgis</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">11.</td><td align="left">The Collegians. By <span class="smcap">Gerald Griffin</span>. With Introduction by <span class="smcap">Padraic Colum</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">12.</td><td align="left">Maria Edgeworth: <span class="smcap">Selections from her Works</span>. With an Introduction by <span class="smcap">Malcolm Cotter Seton</span>, M.A.</td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="center">T. FISHER UNWIN LTD., LONDON</p> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii"></a></span></p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="500" height="639" alt="Signature: WB Yeats" /> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv"></a></span></p> + + + +<h1 class="p6">POEMS</h1> + +<p class="center">BY</p> + +<h3>W.B. YEATS</h3> + +<p class="center p6">LONDON<br /> +T. FISHER UNWIN LTD.<br /> +ADELPHI TERRACE +</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v"></a></span></p> + + +<p class="p6">"The Wanderings of Oisin" was published with +the lyrics now collected under the title "Crossways" +in 1888, "The Countess Cathleen" with the lyrics +now collected under the title "The Rose" in 1892, +and "The Land of Heart's Desire" by itself in 1894. +They were revised and reprinted in one volume in +1895, again revised and reprinted in 1899, and again +reprinted in 1901, 1904, 1908, 1912, 1913, 1919, +and 1920.</p> + +<p class="center">(<i>All rights reserved</i>)</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi"></a><br /><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">vii</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2 class="p6"><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h2> + + +<p>During the last year I have spent much time altering +"The Countess Cathleen" and "The Land of Heart's +Desire" that they might be a part of the repertory of +the Abbey Theatre. I had written them before I had +any practical experience, and I knew from the performance +of the one in Dublin in 1899 and of the +other in London in 1894 that they were full of +defects. But in their new shape—and each play has +been twice played during the winter—they have given +me some pleasure, and are, I think, easier to play +effectively than my later plays, depending less upon +the players and more upon the producer, both having +been imagined more for variety of stage-picture than +variety of mood in the player. It was, indeed, +the first performance of "The Countess Cathleen," +when our stage-pictures were made out of poor conventional +scenery and hired costumes, that set me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">viii</a></span> +writing plays where all would depend upon the +player. The first two scenes are wholly new, and +though I have left the old end in the body of this +book I have given in the notes an end less difficult +to producer and audience, and there are slight +alterations elsewhere in the poem. "The Land of +Heart's Desire," besides some mending in the details, +has been thrown back in time because the metrical +speech would have sounded unreal if spoken in a +country cottage now that we have so many dialect +comedies. The shades of Mrs. Fallan and Mrs. +Dillane and of Dan Bourke and the Tramp would +have seemed too boisterous or too vivid for shades +made cold and distant with the artifice of verse.</p> + +<p>I have not again retouched the lyric poems of my +youth, fearing some stupidity in my middle years, but +have changed two or three pages that I always knew +to be wrong in "The Wanderings of Usheen."</p> + +<p class="right">W.B. YEATS.</p> + +<p><i>June, 1912.</i></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">ix</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2 class="p6"><a name="PREFACE_TO_THE_THIRD_EDITION" id="PREFACE_TO_THE_THIRD_EDITION"></a>PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION</h2> + + +<p>I have added some passages to "The Land of +Heart's Desire," and a new scene of some little +length, besides passages here and there, to "The +Countess Cathleen." The goddess has never come +to me with her hands so full that I have not found +many waste places after I had planted all that she +had brought me. The present version of "The +Countess Cathleen" is not quite the version adopted +by the Irish Literary Theatre a couple of years ago, +for our stage and scenery were capable of little; +and it may differ more from any stage version +I make in future, for it seems that my people of the +waters and my unhappy dead, in the third act, cannot +keep their supernatural essence, but must put on too +much of our mortality, in any ordinary theatre. I am +told that I must abandon a meaning or two and make +my merchants carry away the treasure themselves.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">x</a></span> +The act was written long ago, when I had seen so +few plays that I took pleasure in stage effects. +Indeed, I am not yet certain that a wealthy theatre +could not shape it to an impressive pageantry, or +that a theatre without any wealth could not lift it out +of pageantry into the mind, with a dim curtain, and +some dimly lighted players, and the beautiful voices +that should be as important in poetical as in musical +drama. The Elizabethan stage was so little imprisoned +in material circumstance that the Elizabethan imagination +was not strained by god or spirit, nor even +by Echo herself—no, not even when she answered, as +in "The Duchess of Malfi," in clear, loud words +which were not the words that had been spoken to +her. We have made a prison-house of paint and +canvas, where we have as little freedom as under our +own roofs, for there is no freedom in a house that has +been made with hands. All art moves in the cave of +the Chimæra, or in the garden of the Hesperides, or +in the more silent house of the gods, and neither +cave, nor garden, nor house can show itself clearly +but to the mind's eye.</p> + +<p>Besides rewriting a lyric or two, I have much +enlarged the note on "The Countess Cathleen," as +there has been some discussion in Ireland about the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">xi</a></span> +origin of the story, but the other notes are as they +have always been. They are short enough, but I do +not think that anybody who knows modern poetry +will find obscurities in this book. In any case, I +must leave my myths and symbols to explain themselves +as the years go by and one poems lights up +another, and the stories that friends, and one friend +in particular, have gathered for me, or that I have +gathered myself in many cottages, find their way into +the light. I would, if I could, add to that majestic +heraldry of the poets, that great and complicated +inheritance of images which written literature has +substituted for the greater and more complex inheritance +of spoken tradition, some new heraldic +images, gathered from the lips of the common people. +Christianity and the old nature faith have lain down +side by side in the cottages, and I would proclaim +that peace as loudly as I can among the kingdoms of +poetry, where there is no peace that is not joyous, no +battle that does not give life instead of death; I may +even try to persuade others, in more sober prose, that +there can be no language more worthy of poetry and +of the meditation of the soul than that which has +been made, or can be made, out of a subtlety of +desire, an emotion of sacrifice, a delight in order, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">xii</a></span> +are perhaps Christian, and myths and images that +mirror the energies of woods and streams, and of +their wild creatures. Has any part of that majestic +heraldry of the poets had a very different fountain? +Is it not the ritual of the marriage of heaven and +earth?</p> + +<p>These details may seem to many unnecessary; but +after all one writes poetry for a few careful readers +and for a few friends, who will not consider such +details unnecessary. When Cimabue had the cry +it was, it seems, worth thinking of those that run; +but to-day, when they can write as well as read, one +can sit with one's companions under the hedgerow +contentedly. If one writes well and has the patience, +somebody will come from among the runners and +read what one has written quickly, and go away +quickly, and write out as much as he can remember +in the language of the highway.</p> + +<p class="right">W.B. YEATS.</p> + +<p><i>January, 1901.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><sup>*</sup><sub>*</sub><sup>*</sup></p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">xiii</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2 class="p6"><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of contents"> +<tr><td></td><td></td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_COUNTESS_CATHLEEN">The Countess Cathleen</a></span></td><td align="right">1</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_ROSE">The Rose</a></span>—</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#TO_THE_ROSE_UPON_THE_ROOD_OF_TIME">To the Rose upon the Rood of Time</a></td><td align="right">109</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#FERGUS_AND_THE_DRUID">Fergus and the Druid</a></td><td align="right">111</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_DEATH_OF_CUCHULAIN">The Death of Cuchulain</a></td><td align="right">114</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_ROSE_OF_THE_WORLD">The Rose of the World</a></td><td align="right">119</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_ROSE_OF_PEACE">The Rose of Peace</a></td><td align="right">120</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_ROSE_OF_BATTLE">The Rose of Battle</a></td><td align="right">121</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#A_FAERY_SONG">A Faery Song</a></td><td align="right">123</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_LAKE_ISLE_OF_INNISFREE">The Lake Isle of Innisfree</a></td><td align="right">124</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#A_CRADLE_SONG">A Cradle Song</a></td><td align="right">125</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_PITY_OF_LOVE">The Pity of Love</a></td><td align="right">126</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_SORROW_OF_LOVE">The Sorrow of Love</a></td><td align="right">127</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#WHEN_YOU_ARE_OLD">When You are Old</a></td><td align="right">128</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_WHITE_BIRDS">The White Birds</a></td><td align="right">129</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#A_DREAM_OF_DEATH">A Dream of Death</a></td><td align="right">131</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#A_DREAM_OF_A_BLESSED_SPIRIT">A Dream of a Blessed Spirit</a></td><td align="right">132</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#WHO_GOES_WITH_FERGUS">Who goes with Fergus</a></td><td align="right">133</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_MAN_WHO_DREAMED_OF_FAERYLAND">The Man who Dreamed of Faeryland</a></td><td align="right">134</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_DEDICATION_TO_A_BOOK_OF_STORIES_SELECTED_FROM_THE_IRISH_NOVELISTS">The Dedication to a Book of Stories selected from the Irish Novelists</a></td><td align="right">137</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_LAMENTATION_OF_THE_OLD_PENSIONER">The Lamentation of the Old Pensioner</a></td><td align="left">139<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">xiv</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_BALLAD_OF_FATHER_GILLIGAN">The Ballad of Father Gilligan</a></td><td align="right">140</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_TWO_TREES">The Two Trees</a></td><td align="right">143</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#TO_IRELAND_IN_THE_COMING_TIMES">To Ireland in the Coming Times</a></td><td align="right">145</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_LAND_OF_HEARTS_DESIRE">The Land of Heart's Desire</a></span></td><td align="right">149</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"><a href="#CROSSWAYS">Crossways</a></span>—</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_SONG_OF_THE_HAPPY_SHEPHERD">The Song of the Happy Shepherd</a></td><td align="right">197</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_SAD_SHEPHERD">The Sad Shepherd</a></td><td align="right">200</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_CLOAK_THE_BOAT_AND_THE_SHOES">The Cloak, The Boat, and the Shoes</a></td><td align="right">202</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#ANASHUYA_AND_VIJAYA">Anashuya and Vijaya</a></td><td align="right">203</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_INDIAN_UPON_GOD">The Indian upon God</a></td><td align="right">209</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_INDIAN_TO_HIS_LOVE">The Indian to his Love</a></td><td align="right">211</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_FALLING_OF_THE_LEAVES">The Falling of the Leaves</a></td><td align="right">213</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#EPHEMERA">Ephemera</a></td><td align="right">214</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_MADNESS_OF_KING_GOLL">The Madness of King Goll</a></td><td align="right">216</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_STOLEN_CHILD">The Stolen Child</a></td><td align="right">220</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#TO_AN_ISLE_IN_THE_WATER">To an Isle in the Water</a></td><td align="right">223</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#DOWN_BY_THE_SALLEY_GARDENS">Down by the Salley Gardens</a></td><td align="right">224</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_MEDITATION_OF_THE_OLD_FISHERMAN">The Meditation of the Old Fisherman</a></td><td align="right">225</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_BALLAD_OF_FATHER_OHART">The Ballad of Father O'Hart</a></td><td align="right">226</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_BALLAD_OF_MOLL_MAGEE">The Ballad of Moll Magee</a></td><td align="right">229</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="left"><a href="#THE_BALLAD_OF_THE_FOXHUNTER">The Ballad of the Foxhunter</a></td><td align="right">232</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_WANDERINGS_OF_USHEEN">The Wanderings of Usheen</a></span></td><td align="right">235</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"><a href="#GLOSSARY_AND_NOTES">Glossary and Notes</a></span></td><td align="right">299</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">xv</a></span></p> + + +<p class="center p6"><i>TO SOME I HAVE TALKED WITH +BY THE FIRE</i></p> + + +<p> +<i>While I wrought out these fitful Danaan rhymes,<br /> +My heart would brim with dreams about the times<br /> +When we bent down above the fading coals;<br /> +And talked of the dark folk, who live in souls<br /> +Of passionate men, like bats in the dead trees;<br /> +And of the wayward twilight companies,<br /> +Who sigh with mingled sorrow and content,<br /> +Because their blossoming dreams have never bent<br /> +Under the fruit of evil and of good:<br /> +And of the embattled flaming multitude<br /> +Who rise, wing above wing, flame above flame,<br /> +And, like a storm, cry the Ineffable Name,<br /> +And with the clashing of their sword blades make<br /> +A rapturous music, till the morning break,<br /> +And the white hush end all, but the loud beat<br /> +Of their long wings, the flash of their white feet.</i><br /> +</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi"></a><br /> +<a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a></span></p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a></span></p> +<h2 class="p6"><a name="THE_COUNTESS_CATHLEEN" id="THE_COUNTESS_CATHLEEN"></a>THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN</h2> + + +<p class="center">"The sorrowful are dumb for thee"</p> + +<p class="right"><i>Lament of Morion Shehone for Miss Mary Bourke</i></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a></span></p> + + +<p class="center p6">TO<br /> + +MAUD GONNE</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a><br /> +<a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a></span></p> + + + +<div class="center p6"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="characters"> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Shemus Rua</span></td><td align="right">A Peasant</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mary</span></td><td align="right">His Wife</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Teig</span></td><td align="right">His Son</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Aleel</span></td><td align="right">A Poet</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Countess Cathleen</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Oona</span></td><td align="right">Her Foster Mother</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Two Demons disguised as Merchants</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Peasants, Servants, Angelical Beings</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="center"><i>The Scene is laid in Ireland and in old times</i></p> +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a><br /> +<a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a></span></p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SCENE_I" id="SCENE_I"></a>SCENE I</h2> + + +<p class="exposition"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A room with lighted fire, and a door into the open +air, through which one sees, perhaps, the trees of a wood, +and these trees should be painted in flat colour upon a +gold or diapered sky. The walls are of one colour. The +scent should have the effect of missal painting.</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span>, a<i> +woman of forty years or so, is grinding a quern</i>.</p> + + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">What can have made the grey hen flutter so?</p> + +<p class="direction">(TEIG, <i>a boy of fourteen, is coming in with turf, +which he lays beside the hearth</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">They say that now the land is famine struck<br /> +The graves are walking.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">There is something that the hen hears.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span>And that is not the worst; at Tubber-vanach<br /> +A woman met a man with ears spread out,<br /> +And they moved up and down like a bat's wing.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">What can have kept your father all this while?</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">Two nights ago, at Carrick-orus churchyard,<br /> +A herdsman met a man who had no mouth,<br /> +Nor eyes, nor ears; his face a wall of flesh;<br /> +He saw him plainly by the light of the moon.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Look out, and tell me if your father's coming.</p> + +<p class="direction">(TEIG <i>goes to door</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">Mother!</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">What is it?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">In the bush beyond,</span><br /> +There are two birds—if you can call them birds—<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span>I could not see them rightly for the leaves.<br /> +But they've the shape and colour of horned owls<br /> +And I'm half certain they've a human face.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Mother of God, defend us!</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">They're looking at me.</span><br /> +What is the good of praying? father says.<br /> +God and the Mother of God have dropped asleep.<br /> +What do they care, he says, though the whole land<br /> +Squeal like a rabbit under a weasel's tooth?</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">You'll bring misfortune with your blasphemies<br /> +Upon your father, or yourself, or me.<br /> +I would to God he were home—ah, there he is.</p> + +<p class="direction">(SHEMUS <i>comes in</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">What was it kept you in the wood? You know<br /> +I cannot get all sorts of accidents<br /> +Out of my mind till you are home again.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">I'm in no mood to listen to your clatter.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span>Although I tramped the woods for half a day,<br /> +I've taken nothing, for the very rats,<br /> +Badgers, and hedgehogs seem to have died of drought,<br /> +And there was scarce a wind in the parched leaves.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">Then you have brought no dinner.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17em;">After that</span><br /> +I sat among the beggars at the cross-roads,<br /> +And held a hollow hand among the others.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">What, did you beg?</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">I had no chance to beg,</span><br /> +For when the beggars saw me they cried out<br /> +They would not have another share their alms,<br /> +And hunted me away with sticks and stones.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">You said that you would bring us food or money.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span>What's in the house?</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">A bit of mouldy bread.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">There's flour enough to make another loaf.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">And when that's gone?</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">There is the hen in the coop.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">My curse upon the beggars, my curse upon them!</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">And the last penny gone.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">When the hen's gone,</span><br /> +What can we do but live on sorrel and dock,<br /> +And dandelion, till our mouths are green?</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">God, that to this hour's found bit and sup,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span>Will cater for us still.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">His kitchen's bare.</span><br /> +There were five doors that I looked through this day<br /> +And saw the dead and not a soul to wake them.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Maybe He'd have us die because He knows,<br /> +When the ear is stopped and when the eye is stopped,<br /> +That every wicked sight is hid from the eye,<br /> +And all fool talk from the ear.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Who's passing there?</span><br /> +And mocking us with music?</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A stringed instrument without.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">A young man plays it,</span><br /> +There's an old woman and a lady with him.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">What is the trouble of the poor to her?<br /> +Nothing at all or a harsh radishy sauce<br /> +For the day's meat.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span><span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">God's pity on the rich.</span><br /> +Had we been through as many doors, and seen<br /> +The dishes standing on the polished wood<br /> +In the wax candle light, we'd be as hard,<br /> +And there's the needle's eye at the end of all.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">My curse upon the rich.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">They're coming here.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">Then down upon that stool, down quick, I say,<br /> +And call up a whey face and a whining voice,<br /> +And let your head be bowed upon your knees.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Had I but time to put the place to rights.</p> + +<p class="direction">(CATHLEEN, OONA, <i>and</i> ALEEL <i>enter</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">God save all here. There is a certain house,<br /> +An old grey castle with a kitchen garden,<br /> +A cider orchard and a plot for flowers,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span>Somewhere among these woods.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">We know it, lady.</span><br /> +A place that's set among impassable walls<br /> +As though world's trouble could not find it out.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">It may be that we are that trouble, for we—<br /> +Although we've wandered in the wood this hour—<br /> +Have lost it too, yet I should know my way,<br /> +For I lived all my childhood in that house.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Then you are Countess Cathleen?</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">And this woman,</span><br /> +Oona, my nurse, should have remembered it,<br /> +For we were happy for a long time there.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">The paths are overgrown with thickets now,<br /> +Or else some change has come upon my sight.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span>And this young man, that should have known the woods—<br /> +Because we met him on their border but now,<br /> +Wandering and singing like a wave of the sea—<br /> +Is so wrapped up in dreams of terrors to come<br /> +That he can give no help.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">You have still some way,</span><br /> +But I can put you on the trodden path<br /> +Your servants take when they are marketing.<br /> +But first sit down and rest yourself awhile,<br /> +For my old fathers served your fathers, lady,<br /> +Longer than books can tell—and it were strange<br /> +If you and yours should not be welcome here.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">And it were stranger still were I ungrateful<br /> +For such kind welcome—but I must be gone,<br /> +For the night's gathering in.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">It is a long while</span><br /> +Since I've set eyes on bread or on what buys it.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">So you are starving even in this wood,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span>Where I had thought I would find nothing changed.<br /> +But that's a dream, for the old worm o' the world<br /> +Can eat its way into what place it pleases.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She gives money.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">Beautiful lady, give me something too;<br /> +I fell but now, being weak with hunger and thirst<br /> +And lay upon the threshold like a log.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">I gave for all and that was all I had.<br /> +Look, my purse is empty. I have passed<br /> +By starving men and women all this day,<br /> +And they have had the rest; but take the purse,<br /> +The silver clasps on't may be worth a trifle.<br /> +But if you'll come to-morrow to my house<br /> +You shall have twice the sum.</p> + +<p class="direction">(ALEEL <i>begins to play</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS (<i>muttering</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">What, music, music!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Ah, do not blame the finger on the string;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span>The doctors bid me fly the unlucky times<br /> +And find distraction for my thoughts, or else<br /> +Pine to my grave.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">I have said nothing, lady.</span><br /> +Why should the like of us complain?</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 18.5em;">Have done.</span><br /> +Sorrows that she's but read of in a book<br /> +Weigh on her mind as if they had been her own.</p> + +<p class="direction">(OONA, MARY, and CATHLEEN <i>go out</i>. ALEEL +<i>looks defiantly at</i> SHEMUS.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL (<i>singing</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Were I but crazy for love's sake<br /> +I know who'd measure out his length,<br /> +I know the heads that I should break,<br /> +For crazy men have double strength.<br /> +There! all's out now to leave or take,<br /> +And who mocks music mocks at love;<br /> +And when I'm crazy for love's sake<br /> +I'll not go far to choose.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Snapping his fingers in</i> SHEMUS' <i>face</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span><span style="margin-left: 14em;">Enough!</span><br /> +I know the heads that I shall break.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He takes a step towards the door and then turns +again.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Shut to the door before the night has fallen,<br /> +For who can say what walks, or in what shape<br /> +Some devilish creature flies in the air, but now<br /> +Two grey-horned owls hooted above our heads.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He goes out, his singing dies away.</i> MARY <i>comes +in</i>. SHEMUS <i>has been counting the money.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">So that fool's gone.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">He's seen the horned owls too.</span><br /> +There's no good luck in owls, but it may be<br /> +That the ill luck's to fall upon his head.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">You never thanked her ladyship.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Thank her,</span><br /> +For seven halfpence and a silver bit?</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span>But for this empty purse?</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">What's that for thanks,</span><br /> +Or what's the double of it that she promised?<br /> +With bread and flesh and every sort of food<br /> +Up to a price no man has heard the like of<br /> +And rising every day.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">We have all she had;</span><br /> +She emptied out the purse before our eyes.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS (<i>to</i> MARY, <i>who has gone to close the door</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Leave that door open.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">When those that have read books,</span><br /> +And seen the seven wonders of the world,<br /> +Fear what's above or what's below the ground,<br /> +It's time that poverty should bolt the door.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">I'll have no bolts, for there is not a thing<br /> +That walks above the ground or under it<br /> +I had not rather welcome to this house<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span>Than any more of mankind, rich or poor.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">So that they brought us money.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17em;">I heard say</span><br /> +There's something that appears like a white bird,<br /> +A pigeon or a seagull or the like,<br /> +But if you hit it with a stone or a stick<br /> +It clangs as though it had been made of brass,<br /> +And that if you dig down where it was scratching<br /> +You'll find a crock of gold.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">But dream of gold</span><br /> +For three nights running, and there's always gold.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">You might be starved before you've dug it out.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">But maybe if you called, something would come,<br /> +They have been seen of late.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">Is it call devils?</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span>Call devils from the wood, call them in here?</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">So you'd stand up against me, and you'd say<br /> +Who or what I am to welcome here. (<i>He hits her.</i>)<br /> +That is to show who's master.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Call them in.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">God help us all!</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">Pray, if you have a mind to.</span><br /> +It's little that the sleepy ears above<br /> +Care for your words; but I'll call what I please.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">There is many a one, they say, had money from them.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS (<i>at door</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Whatever you are that walk the woods at night,<br /> +So be it that you have not shouldered up<br /> +Out of a grave—for I'll have nothing human—<br /> +And have free hands, a friendly trick of speech,<br /> +I welcome you. Come, sit beside the fire.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span>What matter if your head's below your arms<br /> +Or you've a horse's tail to whip your flank,<br /> +Feathers instead of hair, that's but a straw,<br /> +Come, share what bread and meat is in the house,<br /> +And stretch your heels and warm them in the ashes.<br /> +And after that, let's share and share alike<br /> +And curse all men and women. Come in, come in.<br /> +What, is there no one there? (<i>Turning from door</i>)<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And yet they say</span><br /> +They are as common as the grass, and ride<br /> +Even upon the book in the priest's hand.</p> + +<p class="exposition">(TEIG <i>lifts one arm slowly and points toward +the door and begins moving backwards</i>. +SHEMUS <i>turns, he also sees something and +begins moving backward</i>. MARY <i>does the +same. A man dressed as an Eastern +merchant comes in carrying a small carpet. +He unrolls it and sits cross-legged at one +end of it. Another man dressed in the +same way follows, and sits at the other +end. This is done slowly and deliberately. +When they are seated they take money +out of embroidered purses at their girdles +and begin arranging it on the carpet</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span>You speak to them.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">No, you.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">'Twas you that called them.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS (<i>coming nearer</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">I'd make so bold, if you would pardon it,<br /> +To ask if there's a thing you'd have of us.<br /> +Although we are but poor people, if there is,<br /> +Why, if there is——</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">We've travelled a long road,</span><br /> +For we are merchants that must tramp the world,<br /> +And now we look for supper and a fire<br /> +And a safe corner to count money in.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">I thought you were ... but that's no matter now—<br /> +There had been words between my wife and me<br /> +Because I said I would be master here,<br /> +And ask in what I pleased or who I pleased<br /> +And so.... but that is nothing to the point,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span>Because it's certain that you are but merchants.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We travel for the Master of all merchants.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">Yet if you were that I had thought but now<br /> +I'd welcome you no less. Be what you please<br /> +And you'll have supper at the market rate,<br /> +That means that what was sold for but a penny<br /> +Is now worth fifty.</p> + +<p class="direction">(MERCHANTS <i>begin putting money on carpet</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">Our Master bids us pay</span><br /> +So good a price, that all who deal with us<br /> +Shall eat, drink, and be merry.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS (<i>to</i> MARY)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17em;">Bestir yourself,</span><br /> +Go kill and draw the fowl, while Teig and I<br /> +Lay out the plates and make a better fire.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I will not cook for you.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span><span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Not cook! not cook!</span><br /> +Do not be angry. She wants to pay me back<br /> +Because I struck her in that argument.<br /> +But she'll get sense again. Since the dearth came<br /> +We rattle one on another as though we were<br /> +Knives thrown into a basket to be cleaned.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I will not cook for you, because I know<br /> +In what unlucky shape you sat but now<br /> +Outside this door.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">It's this, your honours:</span><br /> +Because of some wild words my father said<br /> +She thinks you are not of those who cast a shadow.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">I said I'd make the devils of the wood<br /> +Welcome, if they'd a mind to eat and drink;<br /> +But it is certain that you are men like us.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">It's strange that she should think we cast no shadow,<br /> +For there is nothing on the ridge of the world<br /> +That's more substantial than the merchants are<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span>That buy and sell you.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">If you are not demons,</span><br /> +And seeing what great wealth is spread out there,<br /> +Give food or money to the starving poor.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">If we knew how to find deserving poor<br /> +We'd do our share.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">But seek them patiently.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We know the evils of mere charity.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Those scruples may befit a common time.<br /> +I had thought there was a pushing to and fro,<br /> +At times like this, that overset the scale<br /> +And trampled measure down.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">But if already</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span>We'd thought of a more prudent way than that?</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">If each one brings a bit of merchandise,<br /> +We'll give him such a price he never dreamt of.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Where shall the starving come at merchandise?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We will ask nothing but what all men have.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Their swine and cattle, fields and implements<br /> +Are sold and gone.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">They have not sold all yet.</span><br /> +For there's a vaporous thing—that may be nothing,<br /> +But that's the buyer's risk—a second self,<br /> +They call immortal for a story's sake.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">They come to buy our souls?</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">I'll barter mine.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span>Why should we starve for what may be but nothing?</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Teig and Shemus——</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">What can it be but nothing?</span><br /> +What has God poured out of His bag but famine?<br /> +Satan gives money.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">Yet no thunder stirs.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">There is a heap for each.</p> + +<p class="direction">(SHEMUS <i>goes to take money</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">But no, not yet,</span><br /> +For there's a work I have to set you to.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">So then you're as deceitful as the rest,<br /> +And all that talk of buying what's but a vapour<br /> +Is fancy bread. I might have known as much,<br /> +Because that's how the trick-o'-the-loop man talks.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">That's for the work, each has its separate price;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span>But neither price is paid till the work's done.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">The same for me.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">Oh, God, why are you still?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">You've but to cry aloud at every cross-road,<br /> +At every house door, that we buy men's souls.<br /> +And give so good a price that all may live<br /> +In mirth and comfort till the famine's done,<br /> +Because we are Christian men.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Come, let's away.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">I shall keep running till I've earned the price.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>who has risen and gone towards fire</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Stop; you must have proof behind the words.<br /> +So here's your entertainment on the road.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He throws a bag of money on the ground.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Live as you please; our Master's generous.</p> + +<p class="direction">(TEIG and SHEMUS <i>have stopped</i>. TEIG <i>takes the +money. They go out.</i>)</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Destroyers of souls, God will destroy you quickly.<br /> +You shall at last dry like dry leaves and hang<br /> +Nailed like dead vermin to the doors of God.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Curse to your fill, for saints will have their dreams.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Though we're but vermin that our Master sent<br /> +To overrun the world, he at the end<br /> +Shall pull apart the pale ribs of the moon<br /> +And quench the stars in the ancestral night.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">God is all powerful.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">Pray, you shall need Him.</span><br /> +You shall eat dock and grass, and dandelion,<br /> +Till that low threshold there becomes a wall,<br /> +And when your hands can scarcely drag your body<br /> +We shall be near you.</p> + +<p class="direction">(MARY <i>faints</i>.)</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>The</i> FIRST MERCHANT <i>takes up the carpet, spreads +it before the fire and stands in front of it +warming his hands</i>.)</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Our faces go unscratched,</span><br /> +Wring the neck o' that fowl, scatter the flour<br /> +And look if there is bread upon the shelves.<br /> +We'll turn the fowl upon the spit and roast it,<br /> +And eat the supper we were bidden to,<br /> +Now that the house is quiet, praise our Master,<br /> +And stretch and warm our heels among the ashes.</p> + +<h3>END OF SCENE I.</h3><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a><br /><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span></p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SCENE_II" id="SCENE_II"></a>SCENE II</h2> + + +<p class="exposition">FRONT SCENE.—<i>A wood with perhaps distant view of turreted +house at one side, but all in flat colour, without light and +shade and against a diapered or gold background.</i></p> + +<p class="direction">COUNTESS CATHLEEN <i>comes in leaning upon</i> ALEEL'S +<i>arm</i>. OONA <i>follows them</i>.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>stopping</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Surely this leafy corner, where one smells<br /> +The wild bee's honey, has a story too?</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">There is the house at last.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">A man, they say,</span><br /> +Loved Maeve the Queen of all the invisible host,<br /> +And died of his love nine centuries ago.<br /> +And now, when the moon's riding at the full,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span>She leaves her dancers lonely and lies there<br /> +Upon that level place, and for three days<br /> +Stretches and sighs and wets her long pale cheeks.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">So she loves truly.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">No, but wets her cheeks,</span><br /> +Lady, because she has forgot his name.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">She'd sleep that trouble away—though it must be<br /> +A heavy trouble to forget his name—<br /> +If she had better sense.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">Your own house, lady.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">She sleeps high up on wintry Knock-na-rea<br /> +In an old cairn of stones; while her poor women<br /> +Must lie and jog in the wave if they would sleep—<br /> +Being water born—yet if she cry their names<br /> +They run up on the land and dance in the moon<br /> +Till they are giddy and would love as men do,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span>And be as patient and as pitiful.<br /> +But there is nothing that will stop in their heads<br /> +They've such poor memories, though they weep for it.<br /> +Oh, yes, they weep; that's when the moon is full.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Is it because they have short memories<br /> +They live so long?</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">What's memory but the ash</span><br /> +That chokes our fires that have begun to sink?<br /> +And they've a dizzy, everlasting fire.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">There is your own house, lady.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17.5em;">Why, that's true,</span><br /> +And we'd have passed it without noticing.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">A curse upon it for a meddlesome house!<br /> +Had it but stayed away I would have known<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span>What Queen Maeve thinks on when the moon is pinched;<br /> +And whether now—as in the old days—the dancers<br /> +Set their brief love on men.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16em;">Rest on my arm.</span><br /> +These are no thoughts for any Christian ear.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">I am younger, she would be too heavy for you.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He begins taking his lute out of the bag</i>, +CATHLEEN, <i>who has turned towards</i> OONA, +<i>turns back to him</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">This hollow box remembers every foot<br /> +That danced upon the level grass of the world,<br /> +And will tell secrets if I whisper to it.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Sings.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Lift up the white knee;<br /> +Hear what they sing,<br /> +Those young dancers<br /> +That in a ring<br /> +Raved but now<br /> +Of the hearts that brake<br /> +Long, long ago<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span>For their sake.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">New friends are sweet.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">"But the dance changes.<br /> +Lift up the gown,<br /> +All that sorrow<br /> +Is trodden down."</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">The empty rattle-pate! Lean on this arm,<br /> +That I can tell you is a christened arm,<br /> +And not like some, if we are to judge by speech.<br /> +But as you please. It is time I was forgot.<br /> +Maybe it is not on this arm you slumbered<br /> +When you were as helpless as a worm.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Stay with me till we come to your own house.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>sitting down</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">When I am rested I will need no help.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span>I thought to have kept her from remembering<br /> +The evil of the times for full ten minutes;<br /> +But now when seven are out you come between.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Talk on; what does it matter what you say,<br /> +For you have not been christened?</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">Old woman, old woman,</span><br /> +You robbed her of three minutes peace of mind,<br /> +And though you live unto a hundred years,<br /> +And wash the feet of beggars and give alms,<br /> +And climb Croaghpatrick, you shall not be pardoned.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">How does a man who never was baptized<br /> +Know what Heaven pardons?</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">You are a sinful woman.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">I care no more than if a pig had grunted.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Enter</i> CATHLEEN'S <i>Steward</i>.)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech">I am not to blame, for I had locked the gate,<br /> +The forester's to blame. The men climbed in<br /> +At the east corner where the elm-tree is.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">I do not understand you, who has climbed?</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech">Then God be thanked, I am the first to tell you.<br /> +I was afraid some other of the servants—<br /> +Though I've been on the watch—had been the first,<br /> +And mixed up truth and lies, your ladyship.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>rising</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Has some misfortune happened?</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Yes, indeed.</span><br /> +The forester that let the branches lie<br /> +Against the wall's to blame for everything,<br /> +For that is how the rogues got into the garden.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">I thought to have escaped misfortune here.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span>Has any one been killed?</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">Oh, no, not killed.</span><br /> +They have stolen half a cart-load of green cabbage.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">But maybe they were starving.</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">That is certain.</span><br /> +To rob or starve, that was the choice they had.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">A learned theologian has laid down<br /> +That starving men may take what's necessary,<br /> +And yet be sinless.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">Sinless and a thief!</span><br /> +There should be broken bottles on the wall.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">And if it be a sin, while faith's unbroken<br /> +God cannot help but pardon. There is no soul<br /> +But it's unlike all others in the world,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span>Nor one but lifts a strangeness to God's love<br /> +Till that's grown infinite, and therefore none<br /> +Whose loss were less than irremediable<br /> +Although it were the wickedest in the world.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Enter</i> TEIG <i>and</i> SHEMUS.)</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech">What are you running for? Pull off your cap,<br /> +Do you not see who's there?</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">I cannot wait.</span><br /> +I am running to the world with the best news<br /> +That has been brought it for a thousand years.</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech">Then get your breath and speak.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17.5em;">If you'd my news</span><br /> +You'd run as fast and be as out of breath.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">Such news, we shall be carried on men's shoulders.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span>There's something every man has carried with him<br /> +And thought no more about than if it were<br /> +A mouthful of the wind; and now it's grown<br /> +A marketable thing!</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">And yet it seemed</span><br /> +As useless as the paring of one's nails.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">What sets me laughing when I think of it,<br /> +Is that a rogue who's lain in lousy straw,<br /> +If he but sell it, may set up his coach.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG (<i>laughing</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">There are two gentlemen who buy men's souls.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">O God!</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">And maybe there's no soul at all.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span>They're drunk or mad.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech">Look at the price they give.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Showing money.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS (<i>tossing up money</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">"Go cry it all about the world," they said.<br /> +"Money for souls, good money for a soul."</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Give twice and thrice and twenty times their money,<br /> +And get your souls again. I will pay all.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">Not we! not we! For souls—if there are souls—<br /> +But keep the flesh out of its merriment.<br /> +I shall be drunk and merry.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16em;">Come, let's away.</span></p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He goes.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">But there's a world to come.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">And if there is,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span>I'd rather trust myself into the hands<br /> +That can pay money down than to the hands<br /> +That have but shaken famine from the bag.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He goes out</i> R.)</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Lilting</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">"There's money for a soul, sweet yellow money.<br /> +There's money for men's souls, good money, money."</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>to</i> ALEEL)</p> + +<p class="speech">Go call them here again, bring them by force,<br /> +Beseech them, bribe, do anything you like;</p> + +<p class="direction">(ALEEL <i>goes</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">And you too follow, add your prayers to his.</p> + +<p class="direction">(OONA, <i>who has been praying, goes out</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">Steward, you know the secrets of my house.<br /> +How much have I?</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">A hundred kegs of gold.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">How much have I in castles?</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">As much more.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">How much have I in pasture?</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">As much more.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">How much have I in forests?</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">As much more.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Keeping this house alone, sell all I have,<br /> +Go barter where you please, but come again<br /> +With herds of cattle and with ships of meal.</p> + +<p class="actor">STEWARD</p> + +<p class="speech">God's blessing light upon your ladyship.<br /> +You will have saved the land.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Make no delay.</span></p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He goes</i> L.)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span></p> + +<p class="direction">(ALEEL <i>and</i> OONA <i>return</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">They have not come; speak quickly.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 19em;">One drew his knife</span><br /> +And said that he would kill the man or woman<br /> +That stopped his way; and when I would have stopped him<br /> +He made this stroke at me; but it is nothing.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">You shall be tended. From this day for ever<br /> +I'll have no joy or sorrow of my own.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Their eyes shone like the eyes of birds of prey.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Come, follow me, for the earth burns my feet<br /> +Till I have changed my house to such a refuge<br /> +That the old and ailing, and all weak of heart,<br /> +May escape from beak and claw; all, all, shall come<br /> +Till the walls burst and the roof fall on us.<br /> +From this day out I have nothing of my own.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She goes.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">OONA (<i>taking</i> ALEEL <i>by the arm and as she speaks bandaging his wound</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">She has found something now to put her hand to,<br /> +And you and I are of no more account<br /> +Than flies upon a window-pane in the winter.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>They go out.</i>)</p> + +<h3>END OF SCENE II.</h3><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a><br /><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span></p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SCENE_III" id="SCENE_III"></a>SCENE III</h2> + + +<p class="exposition"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>Hall in the house of</i> <span class="smcap">Countess Cathleen</span>. <i>At the +Left an oratory with steps leading up to it. At the Right +a tapestried wall, more or less repeating the form of the +oratory, and a great chair with its back against the wall. +In the Centre are two or more arches through which +one can see dimly the trees of the garden.</i> <span class="smcap">Cathleen</span> <i>is +kneeling in front of the altar in the oratory; there is a +hanging lighted lamp over the altar</i>. <span class="smcap">Aleel</span> <i>enters</i>.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">I have come to bid you leave this castle and fly<br /> +Out of these woods.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">What evil is there here</span><br /> +That is not everywhere from this to the sea?</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">They who have sent me walk invisible.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">So it is true what I have heard men say,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span>That you have seen and heard what others cannot.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">I was asleep in my bed, and while I slept<br /> +My dream became a fire; and in the fire<br /> +One walked and he had birds about his head.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">I have heard that one of the old gods walked so.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">It may be that he is angelical;<br /> +And, lady, he bids me call you from these woods.<br /> +And you must bring but your old foster-mother,<br /> +And some few serving men, and live in the hills,<br /> +Among the sounds of music and the light<br /> +Of waters, till the evil days are done.<br /> +For here some terrible death is waiting you,<br /> +Some unimagined evil, some great darkness<br /> +That fable has not dreamt of, nor sun nor moon<br /> +Scattered.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">No, not angelical.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17.5em;">This house</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span>You are to leave with some old trusty man,<br /> +And bid him shelter all that starve or wander<br /> +While there is food and house room.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 19.5em;">He bids me go</span><br /> +Where none of mortal creatures but the swan<br /> +Dabbles, and there you would pluck the harp, when the trees<br /> +Had made a heavy shadow about our door,<br /> +And talk among the rustling of the reeds,<br /> +When night hunted the foolish sun away<br /> +With stillness and pale tapers. No—no—no!<br /> +I cannot. Although I weep, I do not weep<br /> +Because that life would be most happy, and here<br /> +I find no way, no end. Nor do I weep<br /> +Because I had longed to look upon your face,<br /> +But that a night of prayer has made me weary.<br /> +<br /> +ALEEL (<i>prostrating himself before her</i>)<br /> +<br /> +Let Him that made mankind, the angels and devils<br /> +And dearth and plenty, mend what He has made,<br /> +For when we labour in vain and eye still sees<br /> +Heart breaks in vain.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">How would that quiet end?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">How but in healing?</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">You have seen my tears</span><br /> +And I can see your hand shake on the floor.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL (<i>faltering</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">I thought but of healing. He was angelical.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>turning away from him</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">No, not angelical, but of the old gods,<br /> +Who wander about the world to waken the heart—<br /> +The passionate, proud heart—that all the angels,<br /> +Leaving nine heavens empty, would rock to sleep.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She goes to chapel door;</i> ALEEL <i>holds his clasped +hands towards her for a moment hesitatingly, +and then lets them fall beside him</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Do not hold out to me beseeching hands.<br /> +This heart shall never waken on earth. I have sworn,<br /> +By her whose heart the seven sorrows have pierced,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span>To pray before this altar until my heart<br /> +Has grown to Heaven like a tree, and there<br /> +Rustled its leaves, till Heaven has saved my people.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL (<i>who has risen</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">When one so great has spoken of love to one<br /> +So little as I, though to deny him love,<br /> +What can he but hold out beseeching hands,<br /> +Then let them fall beside him, knowing how greatly<br /> +They have overdared?</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He goes towards the door of the hall.</i> <i>The</i> +COUNTESS CATHLEEN <i>takes a few steps towards +him</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">If the old tales are true,</span><br /> +Queens have wed shepherds and kings beggar-maids;<br /> +God's procreant waters flowing about your mind<br /> +Have made you more than kings or queens; and not you<br /> +But I am the empty pitcher.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Being silent,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span>I have said all, yet let me stay beside you.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">No, no, not while my heart is shaken. No,<br /> +But you shall hear wind cry and water cry,<br /> +And curlew cry, and have the peace I longed for.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Give me your hand to kiss.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">I kiss your forehead.</span><br /> +And yet I send you from me. Do not speak;<br /> +There have been women that bid men to rob<br /> +Crowns from the Country-under-Wave or apples<br /> +Upon a dragon-guarded hill, and all<br /> +That they might sift men's hearts and wills,<br /> +And trembled as they bid it, as I tremble<br /> +That lay a hard task on you, that you go,<br /> +And silently, and do not turn your head;<br /> +Goodbye; but do not turn your head and look;<br /> +Above all else, I would not have you look.</p> + +<p class="direction">(ALEEL <i>goes</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">I never spoke to him of his wounded hand,<br /> +And now he is gone. (<i>She looks out.</i>)<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span>I cannot see him, for all is dark outside.<br /> +Would my imagination and my heart<br /> +Were as little shaken as this holy flame!</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She goes slowly into the chapel. The distant +sound of an alarm bell.</i> <i>The two</i> MERCHANTS +<i>enter hurriedly</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">They are ringing the alarm, and in a moment<br /> +They'll be upon us.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT (<i>going to a door at the side</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">Here is the Treasury,</span><br /> +You'd my commands to put them all to sleep.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Some angel or else her prayers protected them.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Goes into the Treasury and returns with bags +of treasure.</i> FIRST MERCHANT <i>has been +listening at the oratory door</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">She has fallen asleep.</p> + +<p class="direction">(SECOND MERCHANT <i>goes out through one of the +arches at the back and stands listening. +The bags are at his feet.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">We've all the treasure now,</span><br /> +So let's away before they've tracked us out.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">I have a plan to win her.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">You have time enough</span><br /> +If you would kill her and bear off her soul<br /> +Before they are upon us with their prayers;<br /> +They search the Western Tower.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">That may not be.</span><br /> +We cannot face the heavenly host in arms.<br /> +Her soul must come to us of its own will,<br /> +But being of the ninth and mightiest Hell<br /> +Where all are kings, I have a plan to win it.<br /> +Lady, we've news that's crying out for speech.</p> + +<p class="direction">(CATHLEEN <i>wakes and comes to door of chapel</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Who calls?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span><span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">We have brought news.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">What are you?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We are merchants, and we know the book of the world<br /> +Because we have walked upon its leaves; and there<br /> +Have read of late matters that much concern you;<br /> +And noticing the castle door stand open,<br /> +Came in to find an ear.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">The door stands open,</span><br /> +That no one who is famished or afraid,<br /> +Despair of help or of a welcome with it.<br /> +But you have news, you say.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">We saw a man,</span><br /> +Heavy with sickness in the bog of Allen,<br /> +Whom you had bid buy cattle. Near Fair Head<br /> +We saw your grain ships lying all becalmed<br /> +In the dark night; and not less still than they,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span>Burned all their mirrored lanthorns in the sea.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">My thanks to God, to Mary and the angels,<br /> +That I have money in my treasury,<br /> +And can buy grain from those who have stored it up<br /> +To prosper on the hunger of the poor.<br /> +But you've been far and know the signs of things,<br /> +When will this famine end?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Day copies day,</span><br /> +And there's no sign of change, nor can it change,<br /> +With the wheat withered and the cattle dead.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">And heard you of the demons who buy souls?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">There are some men who hold they have wolves' heads,<br /> +And say their limbs—dried by the infinite flame—<br /> +Have all the speed of storms; others, again,<br /> +Say they are gross and little; while a few<br /> +Will have it they seem much as mortals are,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span>But tall and brown and travelled—like us, lady—<br /> +Yet all agree a power is in their looks<br /> +That makes men bow, and flings a casting-net<br /> +About their souls, and that all men would go<br /> +And barter those poor vapours, were it not<br /> +You bribe them with the safety of your gold.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Praise be to God, to Mary, and the angels<br /> +That I am wealthy! Wherefore do they sell?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">As we came in at the great door we saw<br /> +Your porter sleeping in his niche—a soul<br /> +Too little to be worth a hundred pence,<br /> +And yet they buy it for a hundred crowns.<br /> +But for a soul like yours, I heard them say,<br /> +They would give five hundred thousand crowns and more.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">How can a heap of crowns pay for a soul?<br /> +Is the green grave so terrible a thing?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Some sell because the money gleams, and some<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span>Because they are in terror of the grave,<br /> +And some because their neighbours sold before,<br /> +And some because there is a kind of joy<br /> +In casting hope away, in losing joy,<br /> +In ceasing all resistance, in at last<br /> +Opening one's arms to the eternal flames,<br /> +In casting all sails out upon the wind;<br /> +To this—full of the gaiety of the lost—<br /> +Would all folk hurry if your gold were gone.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">There is a something, Merchant, in your voice<br /> +That makes me fear. When you were telling how<br /> +A man may lose his soul and lose his God<br /> +Your eyes were lighted up, and when you told<br /> +How my poor money serves the people, both—<br /> +Merchants forgive me—seemed to smile.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 21em;">I laugh</span><br /> +To think that all these people should be swung<br /> +As on a lady's shoe-string,—under them<br /> +The glowing leagues of never-ending flame.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span>There is a something in you that I fear;<br /> +A something not of us; were you not born<br /> +In some most distant corner of the world?</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">SECOND MERCHANT</span>, <i>who has been listening +at the door, comes forward, and as he comes +a sound of voices and feet is heard</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Away now—they are in the passage—hurry,<br /> +For they will know us, and freeze up our hearts<br /> +With Ave Marys, and burn all our skin<br /> +With holy water.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">Farewell; for we must ride</span><br /> +Many a mile before the morning come;<br /> +Our horses beat the ground impatiently.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>They go out.</i> <i>A number of</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>enter by +other door</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Forgive us, lady, but we heard a noise.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span>We sat by the fireside telling vanities.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We heard a noise, but though we have searched the house<br /> +We have found nobody.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">You are too timid,</span><br /> +For now you are safe from all the evil times,<br /> +There is no evil that can find you here.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA (<i>entering hurriedly</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Ochone! Ochone! The treasure room is broken in.<br /> +The door stands open, and the gold is gone.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>raise a lamentable cry</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Be silent. (<i>The cry ceases.</i>) Have you seen nobody?</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 22em;">Ochone!</span><br /> +That my good mistress should lose all this money.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span>Let those among you—not too old to ride—<br /> +Get horses and search all the country round,<br /> +I'll give a farm to him who finds the thieves.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A man with keys at his girdle has come in while +she speaks. There is a general murmur of +"The porter! the porter!"</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">PORTER</p> + +<p class="speech">Demons were here. I sat beside the door<br /> +In my stone niche, and two owls passed me by,<br /> +Whispering with human voices.</p> + +<p class="actor">OLD PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17em;">God forsakes us.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Old man, old man, He never closed a door<br /> +Unless one opened. I am desolate,<br /> +Because of a strange thought that's in my heart;<br /> +But I have still my faith; therefore be silent;<br /> +For surely He does not forsake the world,<br /> +But stands before it modelling in the clay<br /> +And moulding there His image. Age by age<br /> +The clay wars with His fingers and pleads hard<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span>For its old, heavy, dull and shapeless ease;<br /> +But sometimes—though His hand is on it still—<br /> +It moves awry and demon hordes are born.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>cross themselves</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">Yet leave me now, for I am desolate,<br /> +I hear a whisper from beyond the thunder.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She comes from the oratory door.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Yet stay an instant. When we meet again<br /> +I may have grown forgetful. Oona, take<br /> +These two—the larder and the dairy keys.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>To the</i> <span class="smcap">PORTER</span>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">But take you this. It opens the small room<br /> +Of herbs for medicine, of hellebore,<br /> +Of vervain, monkshood, plantain, and self-heal.<br /> +The book of cures is on the upper shelf.</p> + +<p class="actor">PORTER</p> + +<p class="speech">Why do you do this, lady; did you see<br /> +Your coffin in a dream?</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">Ah, no, not that.</span><br /> +But I have come to a strange thought. I have heard<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span>A sound of wailing in unnumbered hovels,<br /> +And I must go down, down—I know not where—<br /> +Pray for all men and women mad from famine;<br /> +Pray, you good neighbours.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>all kneel</i>. <span class="smcap">COUNTESS CATHLEEN</span> +<i>ascends the steps to the door of the oratory, +and turning round stands there motionless +for a little, and then cries in a loud voice</i>:)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">Mary, Queen of angels,</span><br /> +And all you clouds on clouds of saints, farewell!</p> + +<h3>END OF SCENE III.</h3><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a><br /><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span></p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SCENE_IV" id="SCENE_IV"></a>SCENE IV</h2> + + +<p class="exposition"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A wood near the Castle, as in Scene II. A group +of</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>pass</i>.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">I have seen silver and copper, but not gold.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">It's yellow and it shines.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">It's beautiful.</span><br /> +The most beautiful thing under the sun,<br /> +That's what I've heard.</p> + +<p class="actor">THIRD PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">I have seen gold enough.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FOURTH PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span>I would not say that it's so beautiful.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">But doesn't a gold piece glitter like the sun?<br /> +That's what my father, who'd seen better days,<br /> +Told me when I was but a little boy—<br /> +So high—so high, it's shining like the sun,<br /> +Round and shining, that is what he said.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">There's nothing in the world it cannot buy.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">They've bags and bags of it.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>They go out.</i> <i>The two</i> <span class="smcap">MERCHANTS</span> <i>follow +silently</i>. <i>Then</i> <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>passes over the stage +singing</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Impetuous heart be still, be still,<br /> +Your sorrowful love can never be told,<br /> +Cover it up with a lonely tune.<br /> +He who could bend all things to His will<br /> +Has covered the door of the infinite fold<br /> +With the pale stars and the wandering moon.</p> + +<h3>END OF SCENE IV.</h3> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span></p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SCENE_V" id="SCENE_V"></a>SCENE V</h2> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p class="exposition"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>The house of</i> <span class="smcap">SHEMUS RUA</span>. <i>There is an alcove at +the back with curtains; in it a bed, and on the bed is +the body of</i> <span class="smcap">MARY</span> <i>with candles round it</i>. <i>The two</i> +<span class="smcap">MERCHANTS</span> <i>while they speak put a large book upon a +table, arrange money, and so on</i>.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Thanks to that lie I told about her ships<br /> +And that about the herdsman lying sick,<br /> +We shall be too much thronged with souls to-morrow.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">What has she in her coffers now but mice?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">When the night fell and I had shaped myself<br /> +Into the image of the man-headed owl,<br /> +I hurried to the cliffs of Donegal,<br /> +And saw with all their canvas full of wind<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span>And rushing through the parti-coloured sea<br /> +Those ships that bring the woman grain and meal.<br /> +They're but three days from us.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 18em;">When the dew rose</span><br /> +I hurried in like feathers to the east,<br /> +And saw nine hundred oxen driven through Meath<br /> +With goads of iron. They're but three days from us.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Three days for traffic.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>crowd in with</i> <span class="smcap">TEIG</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">SHEMUS</span>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 8.5em;">Come in, come in, you are welcome.</span><br /> +That is my wife. She mocked at my great masters,<br /> +And would not deal with them. Now there she is;<br /> +She does not even know she was a fool,<br /> +So great a fool she was.</p> + +<p class="actor">TEIG</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">She would not eat</span><br /> +One crumb of bread bought with our master's money,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span>But lived on nettles, dock, and dandelion.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">There's nobody could put into her head<br /> +That Death is the worst thing can happen us.<br /> +Though that sounds simple, for her tongue grew rank<br /> +With all the lies that she had heard in chapel.<br /> +Draw to the curtain. (<span class="smcap">TEIG</span> <i>draws it</i>.) You'll not play the fool<br /> +While these good gentlemen are there to save you.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Since the drought came they drift about in a throng,<br /> +Like autumn leaves blown by the dreary winds.<br /> +Come, deal—come, deal.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Who will come deal with us?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">They are out of spirit, sir, with lack of food,<br /> +Save four or five. Here, sir, is one of these;<br /> +The others will gain courage in good time.</p> + +<p class="actor">MIDDLE-AGED-MAN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span>I come to deal—if you give honest price.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT (<i>reading in a book</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">"John Maher, a man of substance, with dull mind,<br /> +And quiet senses and unventurous heart.<br /> +The angels think him safe." Two hundred crowns,<br /> +All for a soul, a little breath of wind.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE MAN</p> + +<p class="speech">I ask three hundred crowns. You have read there<br /> +That no mere lapse of days can make me yours.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">There is something more writ here—"Often at night<br /> +He is wakeful from a dread of growing poor,<br /> +And thereon wonders if there's any man<br /> +That he could rob in safety."</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Who'd have thought it?</span><br /> +And I was once alone with him at midnight.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">I will not trust my mother after this.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span>There is this crack in you—two hundred crowns.</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">That's plenty for a rogue.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">I'd give him nothing.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">You'll get no more—so take what's offered you.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A general murmur, during which the</i> <span class="smcap">MIDDLE-AGED +MAN</span> <i>takes money, and slips into background, +where he sinks on to a seat</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Has no one got a better soul than that?<br /> +If only for the credit of your parishes,<br /> +Traffic with us.</p> + +<p class="actor">A WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 8.5em;">What will you give for mine?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT (<i>reading in book</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">"Soft, handsome, and still young"—not much, I think.<br /> +"It's certain that the man she's married to<br /> +Knows nothing of what's hidden in the jar<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span>Between the hour-glass and the pepper-pot."</p> + +<p class="actor">THE WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">The scandalous book.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">"Nor how when he's away</span><br /> +At the horse fair the hand that wrote what's hid<br /> +Will tap three times upon the window-pane."</p> + +<p class="actor">THE WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">And if there is a letter, that is no reason<br /> +Why I should have less money than the others.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">You're almost safe, I give you fifty crowns.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She turns to go.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">A hundred, then.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">Woman, have sense—come, come.</span><br /> +Is this a time to haggle at the price?<br /> +There, take it up. There, there. That's right.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She takes them and goes into the crowd.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span>Come, deal, deal, deal. It is but for charity<br /> +We buy such souls at all; a thousand sins<br /> +Made them our Master's long before we came.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>enters</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Here, take my soul, for I am tired of it.<br /> +I do not ask a price.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">Not ask a price?</span><br /> +How can you sell your soul without a price?<br /> +I would not listen to his broken wits;<br /> +His love for Countess Cathleen has so crazed him<br /> +He hardly understands what he is saying.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">The trouble that has come on Countess Cathleen,<br /> +The sorrow that is in her wasted face,<br /> +The burden in her eyes, have broke my wits,<br /> +And yet I know I'd have you take my soul.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We cannot take your soul, for it is hers.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">No, but you must. Seeing it cannot help her<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span>I have grown tired of it.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Begone from me,</span><br /> +I may not touch it.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">Is your power so small?</span><br /> +And must I bear it with me all my days?<br /> +May you be scorned and mocked!</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Drag him away.</span><br /> +He troubles me.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">TEIG</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">SHEMUS</span> <i>lead</i> <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>into the crowd</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">His gaze has filled me, brother,</span><br /> +With shaking and a dreadful fear.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 17.5em;">Lean forward</span><br /> +And kiss the circlet where my Master's lips<br /> +Were pressed upon it when he sent us hither;<br /> +You shall have peace once more.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">SECOND MERCHANT</span> <i>kisses the gold circlet that is +about the head of the</i> <span class="smcap">FIRST MERCHANT</span>.)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span></p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">I, too, grow weary,</span><br /> +But there is something moving in my heart<br /> +Whereby I know that what we seek the most<br /> +Is drawing near—our labour will soon end.<br /> +Come, deal, deal, deal, deal, deal; are you all dumb?<br /> +What, will you keep me from our ancient home,<br /> +And from the eternal revelry?</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16em;">Deal, deal.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">SHEMUS</p> + +<p class="speech">They say you beat the woman down too low.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">I offer this great price: a thousand crowns<br /> +For an old woman who was always ugly.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>An old</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANT WOMAN</span> <i>comes forward, and he +takes up a book and reads</i>:)</p> + +<p class="speech">There is but little set down here against her.<br /> +"She has stolen eggs and fowl when times were bad,<br /> +But when the times grew better has confessed it;<br /> +She never missed her chapel of a Sunday<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span>And when she could, paid dues." Take up your money.</p> + +<p class="actor">OLD WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">God bless you, sir. (<i>She screams.</i>) Oh, sir, a pain went through me!</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">That name is like a fire to all damned souls.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Murmur among the</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span>, <i>who shrink back +from her as she goes out</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">How she screamed out!</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">And maybe we shall scream so.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">THIRD PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">I tell you there is no such place as hell.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Can such a trifle turn you from your profit?<br /> +Come, deal; come, deal.</p> + +<p class="actor">MIDDLE-AGED MAN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span><span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Master, I am afraid.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">I bought your soul, and there's no sense in fear<br /> +Now the soul's gone.</p> + +<p class="actor">MIDDLE-AGED MAN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">Give me my soul again.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">WOMAN (<i>going on her knees and clinging to</i> +<span class="smcap">MERCHANT</span>)</p> + +<p class="speech">And take this money too, and give me mine.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Bear bastards, drink or follow some wild fancy;<br /> +For sighs and cries are the soul's work,<br /> +And you have none.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Throws the woman off.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Come, let's away.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 20em;">Yes, yes.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Come quickly; if that woman had not screamed<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span>I would have lost my soul.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">Come, come away.</span></p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>They turn to door, but are stopped by shouts of +"Countess Cathleen! Countess Cathleen!"</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>entering</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">And so you trade once more?</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">In spite of you.</span><br /> +What brings you here, saint with the sapphire eyes?</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">I come to barter a soul for a great price.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">What matter, if the soul be worth the price?</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">The people starve, therefore the people go<br /> +Thronging to you. I hear a cry come from them<br /> +And it is in my ears by night and day,<br /> +And I would have five hundred thousand crowns<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span>That I may feed them till the dearth go by.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">It may be the soul's worth it.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">There is more:</span><br /> +The souls that you have bought must be set free.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We know of but one soul that's worth the price.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Being my own it seems a priceless thing.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">You offer us——</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">I offer my own soul.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Do not, do not, for souls the like of ours<br /> +Are not precious to God as your soul is.<br /> +O! what would Heaven do without you, lady?</p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span>Look how their claws clutch in their leathern gloves.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">Five hundred thousand crowns; we give the price.<br /> +The gold is here; the souls even while you speak<br /> +Have slipped out of our bond, because your face<br /> +Has shed a light on them and filled their hearts.<br /> +But you must sign, for we omit no form<br /> +In buying a soul like yours.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Sign with this quill</span><br /> +It was a feather growing on the cock<br /> +That crowed when Peter dared deny his Master,<br /> +And all who use it have great honour in Hell.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">CATHLEEN</span> <i>leans forward to sign</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL (<i>rushing forward and snatching the +pen from her</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Leave all things to the builder of the heavens.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">I have no thoughts; I hear a cry—a cry.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL (<i>casting the pen on the ground</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">I have seen a vision under a green hedge,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span>A hedge of hips and haws—men yet shall hear<br /> +The Archangels rolling Satan's empty skull<br /> +Over the mountain-tops.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">Take him away.</span></p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">TEIG</span> <i>and</i> SHEMUS <i>drag him roughly away so that +he falls upon the floor among the</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span>. +<span class="smcap">CATHLEEN</span> <i>picks up parchment and signs, then +turns towards the</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Take up the money, and now come with me;<br /> +When we are far from this polluted place<br /> +I will give everybody money enough.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She goes out, the</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>crowding round her +and kissing her dress</i>. <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>and the two</i> +<span class="smcap">MERCHANTS</span> <i>are left alone</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We must away and wait until she dies,<br /> +Sitting above her tower as two grey owls,<br /> +Waiting as many years as may be, guarding<br /> +Our precious jewel; waiting to seize her soul.</p> + +<p class="actor">FIRST MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span>We need but hover over her head in the air,<br /> +For she has only minutes. When she signed<br /> +Her heart began to break. Hush, hush, I hear<br /> +The brazen door of Hell move on its hinges,<br /> +And the eternal revelry float hither<br /> +To hearten us.</p> + +<p class="actor">SECOND MERCHANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9em;">Leap feathered on the air</span><br /> +And meet them with her soul caught in your claws.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>They rush out.</i> <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>crawls into the middle of +the room</i>. <i>The twilight has fallen and +gradually darkens as the scene goes on. There +is a distant muttering of thunder and a +sound of rising storm.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">The brazen door stands wide, and Balor comes<br /> +Borne in his heavy car, and demons have lifted<br /> +The age-weary eyelids from the eyes that of old<br /> +Turned gods to stone; Barach, the traitor, comes<br /> +And the lascivious race, Cailitin,<br /> +That cast a druid weakness and decay<br /> +Over Sualtem's and old Dectera's child;<br /> +And that great king Hell first took hold upon<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span>When he killed Naisi and broke Deirdre's heart<br /> +And all their heads are twisted to one side,<br /> +For when they lived they warred on beauty and peace<br /> +With obstinate, crafty, sidelong bitterness.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He moves about as though the air above him +was full of spirits</i>. <span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>enters</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">Crouch down, old heron, out of the blind storm.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Where is the Countess Cathleen? All this day<br /> +Her eyes were full of tears, and when for a moment<br /> +Her hand was laid upon my hand it trembled,<br /> +And now I do not know where she is gone.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Cathleen has chosen other friends than us,<br /> +And they are rising through the hollow world.<br /> +Demons are out, old heron.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">God guard her soul.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">She's bartered it away this very hour,<br /> +As though we two were never in the world.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He points downward.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span></p> + +<p class="speech">First, Orchill, her pale, beautiful head<br /> +Her body shadowy as vapour drifting<br /> +Under the dawn, for she who awoke desire<br /> +Has but a heart of blood when others die;<br /> +About her is a vapoury multitude<br /> +Of women alluring devils with soft laughter;<br /> +Behind her a host heat of the blood made sin,<br /> +But all the little pink-white nails have grown<br /> +To be great talons.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He seizes</i> <span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>and drags her into the middle of +the room and points downward with vehement +gestures</i>. <i>The wind roars.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">They begin a song</span><br /> +And there is still some music on their tongues.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA (<i>casting herself face downwards on the floor</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">O, Maker of all, protect her from the demons,<br /> +And if a soul must need be lost, take mine.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>kneels beside her, but does not seem to hear +her words</i>. <i>The</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>return</i>. <i>They +carry the</i> <span class="smcap">COUNTESS CATHLEEN</span> <i>and lay her +upon the ground before</i> <span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span>. +<i>She lies there as if dead.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">O, that so many pitchers of rough clay<br /> +Should prosper and the porcelain break in two!</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She kisses the hands of</i> <span class="smcap">CATHLEEN</span>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We were under the tree where the path turns,<br /> +When she grew pale as death and fainted away.<br /> +And while we bore her hither cloudy gusts<br /> +Blackened the world and shook us on our feet;<br /> +Draw the great bolt, for no man has beheld<br /> +So black, bitter, blinding, and sudden a storm.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>One who is near the door draws the bolt.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">O, hold me, and hold me tightly, for the storm<br /> +Is dragging me away.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>takes her in her arms</i>. <span class="smcap">A woman</span> <i>begins +to wail</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">PEASANTS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">PEASANT WOMEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 19em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">OTHER PEASANT WOMEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 22em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>half rising</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Lay all the bags of money in a heap,<br /> +And when I am gone, old Oona, share them out<br /> +To every man and woman: judge, and give<br /> +According to their needs.</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">And will she give</span><br /> +Enough to keep my children through the dearth?</p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">O, Queen of Heaven, and all you blessed saints,<br /> +Let us and ours be lost so she be shriven.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Bend down your faces, Oona and Aleel;<br /> +I gaze upon them as the swallow gazes<br /> +Upon the nest under the eave, before<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span>She wander the loud waters. Do not weep<br /> +Too great a while, for there is many a candle<br /> +On the High Altar though one fall. Aleel,<br /> +Who sang about the dancers of the woods,<br /> +That know not the hard burden of the world,<br /> +Having but breath in their kind bodies, farewell!<br /> +And farewell, Oona, you who played with me,<br /> +And bore me in your arms about the house<br /> +When I was but a child and therefore happy,<br /> +Therefore happy, even like those that dance.<br /> +The storm is in my hair and I must go.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She dies.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Bring me the looking-glass.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">A woman</span> <i>brings it to her out of the inner room</i>. +<span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>holds it over the lips of</i> <span class="smcap">CATHLEEN</span>. +<i>All is silent for a moment. And then she +speaks in a half scream</i>:)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">O, she is dead!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">She was the great white lily of the world.</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span>She was more beautiful than the pale stars.</p> + +<p class="actor">AN OLD PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">The little plant I love is broken in two.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>takes looking-glass from</i> <span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>and flings +it upon the floor so that it is broken in +many pieces</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">I shatter you in fragments, for the face<br /> +That brimmed you up with beauty is no more:<br /> +And die, dull heart, for she whose mournful words<br /> +Made you a living spirit has passed away<br /> +And left you but a ball of passionate dust.<br /> +And you, proud earth and plumy sea, fade out!<br /> +For you may hear no more her faltering feet,<br /> +But are left lonely amid the clamorous war<br /> +Of angels upon devils.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He stands up; almost every one is kneeling, but +it has grown so dark that only confused +forms can be seen.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">And I who weep</span><br /> +Call curses on you, Time and Fate and Change,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span>And have no excellent hope but the great hour<br /> +When you shall plunge headlong through bottomless space.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A flash of lightning followed immediately by +thunder.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">Pull him upon his knees before his curses<br /> +Have plucked thunder and lightning on our heads.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Angels and devils clash in the middle air,<br /> +And brazen swords clang upon brazen helms.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A flash of lightning followed immediately by +thunder.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Yonder a bright spear, cast out of a sling,<br /> +Has torn through Balor's eye, and the dark clans<br /> +Fly screaming as they fled Moytura of old.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Everything is lost in darkness.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">AN OLD MAN</p> + +<p class="speech">The Almighty wrath at our great weakness and sin<br /> +Has blotted out the world and we must die.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>The darkness is broken by a visionary light. +The</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>seem to be kneeling upon the</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span> +<i>rocky slope of a mountain, and vapour full +of storm and ever-changing light is sweeping +above them and behind them. Half in the +light, half in the shadow, stand armed +angels. Their armour is old and worn, +and their drawn swords dim and dinted. +They stand as if upon the air in formation +of battle and look downward with stern +faces. The</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>cast themselves on the +ground</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Look no more on the half-closed gates of Hell,<br /> +But speak to me, whose mind is smitten of God,<br /> +That it may be no more with mortal things,<br /> +And tell of her who lies there.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He seizes one of the angels.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Till you speak</span><br /> +You shall not drift into eternity.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE ANGEL</p> + +<p class="speech">The light beats down; the gates of pearl are wide<br /> +And she is passing to the floor of peace,<br /> +And Mary of the seven times wounded heart<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span>Has kissed her lips, and the long blessed hair<br /> +Has fallen on her face; The Light of Lights<br /> +Looks always on the motive, not the deed,<br /> +The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>releases the</i> <span class="smcap">ANGEL</span> <i>and kneels</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Tell them who walk upon the floor of peace<br /> +That I would die and go to her I love;<br /> +The years like great black oxen tread the world,<br /> +And God the herdsman goads them on behind<br /> +And I am broken by their passing feet.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A sound of far-off horns seems to come from the +heart of the Light. The vision melts away, +and the forms of the kneeling</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> +<i>appear faintly in the darkness</i>.)</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a><br /><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span></p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a></span></p> +<h2 class="p6"><a name="THE_ROSE" id="THE_ROSE"></a>THE ROSE</h2> + + +<p class="center p6">"<i>Sero te amavi, Pulchritudo tam antiqua et tam nova! Sero te +amavi.</i>"</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">S. Augustine.</span></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a></span></p> + + +<p class="center p6">TO LIONEL JOHNSON</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a><br /> +<a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span></p> + + +<h3 class="p6"><a name="TO_THE_ROSE_UPON_THE_ROOD_OF_TIME" id="TO_THE_ROSE_UPON_THE_ROOD_OF_TIME"></a>TO THE ROSE UPON THE ROOD OF +TIME</h3> + + +<p> +<i>Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days!<br /> +Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways:<br /> +Cuchulain battling with the bitter tide;<br /> +The Druid, gray, wood-nurtured, quiet-eyed,<br /> +Who cast round Fergus dreams, and ruin untold;<br /> +And thine own sadness, whereof stars, grown old<br /> +In dancing silver sandalled on the sea,<br /> +Sing in their high and lonely melody.<br /> +Come near, that no more blinded by man's fate,<br /> +I find under the boughs of love and hate,<br /> +In all poor foolish things that live a day,<br /> +Eternal beauty wandering on her way.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Come near, come near, come near—Ah, leave me still<br /> +A little space for the rose-breath to fill!<br /> +Lest I no more hear common things that crave;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span>The weak worm hiding down in its small cave,</i><br /> +<i>The field mouse running by me in the grass,<br /> +And heavy mortal hopes that toil and pass;<br /> +But seek alone to hear the strange things said<br /> +By God to the bright hearts of those long dead,<br /> +And learn to chaunt a tongue men do not know.<br /> +Come near; I would, before my time to go,<br /> +Sing of old Eire and the ancient ways:<br /> +Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days.</i></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="FERGUS_AND_THE_DRUID" id="FERGUS_AND_THE_DRUID"></a>FERGUS AND THE DRUID</h3> + + +<p class="actor">FERGUS</p> + +<p class="speech">The whole day have I followed in the rocks,<br /> +And you have changed and flowed from shape to shape.<br /> +First as a raven on whose ancient wings<br /> +Scarcely a feather lingered, then you seemed<br /> +A weasel moving on from stone to stone,<br /> +And now at last you wear a human shape,<br /> +A thin gray man half lost in gathering night.</p> + +<p class="actor">DRUID</p> + +<p class="speech">What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings?</p> + +<p class="actor">FERGUS</p> + +<p class="speech">This would I say, most wise of living souls:<br /> +Young subtle Concobar sat close by me<br /> +When I gave judgment, and his words were wise,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span>And what to me was burden without end,<br /> +To him seemed easy, so I laid the crown<br /> +Upon his head to cast away my care.</p> + +<p class="actor">DRUID</p> + +<p class="speech">What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings?</p> + +<p class="actor">FERGUS</p> + +<p class="speech">I feast amid my people on the hill,<br /> +And pace the woods, and drive my chariot wheels<br /> +In the white border of the murmuring sea;<br /> +And still I feel the crown upon my head.</p> + +<p class="actor">DRUID</p> + +<p class="speech">What would you?</p> + +<p class="actor">FERGUS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9em;">I would be no more a king</span><br /> +But learn the dreaming wisdom that is yours.</p> + +<p class="actor">DRUID</p> + +<p class="speech">Look on my thin gray hair and hollow cheeks<br /> +And on these hands that may not lift the sword<br /> +This body trembling like a wind-blown reed.<br /> +No woman loves me, no man seeks my help,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span>Because I be not of the things I dream.</p> + +<p class="actor">FERGUS</p> + +<p class="speech">A wild and foolish labourer is a king,<br /> +To do and do and do, and never dream.</p> + +<p class="actor">DRUID</p> + +<p class="speech">Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams;<br /> +Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.</p> + +<p class="actor">FERGUS</p> + +<p class="speech">I see my life go dripping like a stream<br /> +From change to change; I have been many things,<br /> +A green drop in the surge, a gleam of light<br /> +Upon a sword, a fir-tree on a hill,<br /> +An old slave grinding at a heavy quern,<br /> +A king sitting upon a chair of gold,<br /> +And all these things were wonderful and great;<br /> +But now I have grown nothing, being all,<br /> +And the whole world weighs down upon my heart:<br /> +Ah! Druid, Druid, how great webs of sorrow<br /> +Lay hidden in the small slate-coloured bag!</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_DEATH_OF_CUCHULAIN" id="THE_DEATH_OF_CUCHULAIN"></a>THE DEATH OF CUCHULAIN</h3> + + +<p> +A man came slowly from the setting sun,<br /> +To Forgail's daughter, Emer, in her dun,<br /> +And found her dyeing cloth with subtle care,<br /> +And said, casting aside his draggled hair:<br /> +"I am Aleel, the swineherd, whom you bid<br /> +"Go dwell upon the sea cliffs, vapour hid;<br /> +"But now my years of watching are no more."<br /> +<br /> +Then Emer cast the web upon the floor,<br /> +And stretching out her arms, red with the dye,<br /> +Parted her lips with a loud sudden cry.<br /> +<br /> +Looking on her, Aleel, the swineherd, said:<br /> +"Not any god alive, nor mortal dead,<br /> +"Has slain so mighty armies, so great kings,<br /> +"Nor won the gold that now Cuchulain brings."<br /> +<br /> +"Why do you tremble thus from feet to crown?"<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span>Aleel, the swineherd, wept and cast him down<br /> +Upon the web-heaped floor, and thus his word:<br /> +"With him is one sweet-throated like a bird."<br /> +<br /> +"Who bade you tell these things?" and then she cried<br /> +To those about, "Beat him with thongs of hide<br /> +"And drive him from the door."<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">And thus it was:</span><br /> +And where her son, Finmole, on the smooth grass<br /> +Was driving cattle, came she with swift feet,<br /> +And called out to him, "Son, it is not meet<br /> +"That you stay idling here with flocks and herds."<br /> +<br /> +"I have long waited, mother, for those words:<br /> +"But wherefore now?"<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">"There is a man to die;</span><br /> +"You have the heaviest arm under the sky."<br /> +<br /> +"My father dwells among the sea-worn bands,<br /> +"And breaks the ridge of battle with his hands."<br /> +<br /> +"Nay, you are taller than Cuchulain, son."<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span>"He is the mightiest man in ship or dun."<br /> +<br /> +"Nay, he is old and sad with many wars,<br /> +"And weary of the crash of battle cars."<br /> +<br /> +"I only ask what way my journey lies,<br /> +"For God, who made you bitter, made you wise."<br /> +<br /> +"The Red Branch kings a tireless banquet keep,<br /> +"Where the sun falls into the Western deep.<br /> +"Go there, and dwell on the green forest rim;<br /> +"But tell alone your name and house to him<br /> +"Whose blade compels, and bid them send you one<br /> +"Who has a like vow from their triple dun."<br /> +<br /> +Between the lavish shelter of a wood<br /> +And the gray tide, the Red Branch multitude<br /> +Feasted, and with them old Cuchulain dwelt,<br /> +And his young dear one close beside him knelt,<br /> +And gazed upon the wisdom of his eyes,<br /> +More mournful than the depth of starry skies,<br /> +And pondered on the wonder of his days;<br /> +And all around the harp-string told his praise,<br /> +And Concobar, the Red Branch king of kings,<br /> +With his own fingers touched the brazen strings.<br /> +At last Cuchulain spake, "A young man strays<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span>"Driving the deer along the woody ways.<br /> +"I often hear him singing to and fro,<br /> +"I often hear the sweet sound of his bow,<br /> +"Seek out what man he is."<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">One went and came.</span><br /> +"He bade me let all know he gives his name<br /> +"At the sword point, and bade me bring him one<br /> +"Who had a like vow from our triple dun."<br /> +<br /> +"I only of the Red Branch hosted now,"<br /> +Cuchulain cried, "have made and keep that vow."<br /> +<br /> +After short fighting in the leafy shade,<br /> +He spake to the young man, "Is there no maid<br /> +"Who loves you, no white arms to wrap you round,<br /> +"Or do you long for the dim sleepy ground,<br /> +"That you come here to meet this ancient sword?"<br /> +<br /> +"The dooms of men are in God's hidden hoard."<br /> +<br /> +"Your head a while seemed like a woman's head<br /> +"That I loved once."<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Again the fighting sped,</span><br /> +But now the war rage in Cuchulain woke,<br /> +And through the other's shield his long blade broke,<br /> +And pierced him.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span><span style="margin-left: 8em;">"Speak before your breath is done."</span><br /> +"I am Finmole, mighty Cuchulain's son."<br /> +<br /> +"I put you from your pain. I can no more."<br /> +<br /> +While day its burden on to evening bore,<br /> +With head bowed on his knees Cuchulain stayed;<br /> +Then Concobar sent that sweet-throated maid,<br /> +And she, to win him, his gray hair caressed;<br /> +In vain her arms, in vain her soft white breast.<br /> +Then Concobar, the subtlest of all men,<br /> +Ranking his Druids round him ten by ten,<br /> +Spake thus, "Cuchulain will dwell there and brood,<br /> +"For three days more in dreadful quietude,<br /> +"And then arise, and raving slay us all.<br /> +"Go, cast on him delusions magical,<br /> +"That he might fight the waves of the loud sea."<br /> +And ten by ten under a quicken tree,<br /> +The Druids chaunted, swaying in their hands<br /> +Tall wands of alder, and white quicken wands.<br /> +<br /> +In three days' time, Cuchulain with a moan<br /> +Stood up, and came to the long sands alone:<br /> +For four days warred he with the bitter tide;<br /> +And the waves flowed above him, and he died.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_ROSE_OF_THE_WORLD" id="THE_ROSE_OF_THE_WORLD"></a>THE ROSE OF THE WORLD</h3> + + +<p> +Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream?<br /> +For these red lips, with all their mournful pride,<br /> +Mournful that no new wonder may betide,<br /> +Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam,<br /> +And Usna's children died.<br /> +<br /> +We and the labouring world are passing by:<br /> +Amid men's souls, that waver and give place,<br /> +Like the pale waters in their wintry race,<br /> +Under the passing stars, foam of the sky,<br /> +Lives on this lonely face.<br /> +<br /> +Bow down, archangels, in your dim abode:<br /> +Before you were, or any hearts to beat,<br /> +Weary and kind one lingered by His seat;<br /> +He made the world to be a grassy road<br /> +Before her wandering feet.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_ROSE_OF_PEACE" id="THE_ROSE_OF_PEACE"></a>THE ROSE OF PEACE</h3> + + +<p> +If Michael, leader of God's host<br /> +When Heaven and Hell are met,<br /> +Looked down on you from Heaven's door-post<br /> +He would his deeds forget.<br /> +<br /> +Brooding no more upon God's wars<br /> +In his Divine homestead,<br /> +He would go weave out of the stars<br /> +A chaplet for your head.<br /> +<br /> +And all folk seeing him bow down,<br /> +And white stars tell your praise,<br /> +Would come at last to God's great town,<br /> +Led on by gentle ways;<br /> +<br /> +And God would bid His warfare cease.<br /> +Saying all things were well;<br /> +And softly make a rosy peace,<br /> +A peace of Heaven with Hell.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_ROSE_OF_BATTLE" id="THE_ROSE_OF_BATTLE"></a>THE ROSE OF BATTLE</h3> + + +<p> +Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World!<br /> +The tall thought-woven sails, that flap unfurled<br /> +Above the tide of hours, trouble the air,<br /> +And God's bell buoyed to be the water's care;<br /> +While hushed from fear, or loud with hope, a band<br /> +With blown, spray-dabbled hair gather at hand.<br /> +<i>Turn if you may from battles never done</i>,<br /> +I call, as they go by me one by one,<br /> +<i>Danger no refuge holds; and war no peace,<br /> +For him who hears love sing and never cease,<br /> +Beside her clean-swept hearth, her quiet shade:<br /> +But gather all for whom no love hath made<br /> +A woven silence, or but came to cast<br /> +A song into the air, and singing past<br /> +To smile on the pale dawn; and gather you<br /> +Who have sought more than is in rain or dew<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span>Or in the sun and moon, or on the earth,</i><br /> +<i>Or sighs amid the wandering, starry mirth,<br /> +Or comes in laughter from the sea's sad lips<br /> +And wage God's battles in the long gray ships.<br /> +The sad, the lonely, the insatiable,<br /> +To these Old Night shall all her mystery tell;<br /> +God's bell has claimed them by the little cry<br /> +Of their sad hearts, that may not live nor die.</i><br /> +<br /> +Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World!<br /> +You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled<br /> +Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring<br /> +The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.<br /> +Beauty grown sad with its eternity<br /> +Made you of us, and of the dim gray sea.<br /> +Our long ships loose thought-woven sails and wait,<br /> +For God has bid them share an equal fate;<br /> +And when at last defeated in His wars,<br /> +They have gone down under the same white stars,<br /> +We shall no longer hear the little cry<br /> +Of our sad hearts, that may not live nor die.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="A_FAERY_SONG" id="A_FAERY_SONG"></a>A FAERY SONG</h3> + + +<p class="exposition"><i>Sung by the people of faery over Diarmuid and Grania, who lay +in their bridal sleep under a Cromlech.</i></p> + +<p> +We who are old, old and gay,<br /> +O so old!<br /> +Thousands of years, thousands of years,<br /> +If all were told:<br /> +<br /> +Give to these children, new from the world,<br /> +Silence and love;<br /> +And the long dew-dropping hours of the night,<br /> +And the stars above:<br /> +<br /> +Give to these children, new from the world,<br /> +Rest far from men.<br /> +Is anything better, anything better?<br /> +Tell us it then:<br /> +<br /> +Us who are old, old and gay,<br /> +O so old!<br /> +Thousands of years, thousands of years,<br /> +If all were told.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_LAKE_ISLE_OF_INNISFREE" id="THE_LAKE_ISLE_OF_INNISFREE"></a>THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE</h3> + + +<p> +I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,<br /> +And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:<br /> +Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,<br /> +And live alone in the bee-loud glade.<br /> +<br /> +And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,<br /> +Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;<br /> +There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,<br /> +And evening full of the linnet's wings.<br /> +<br /> +I will arise and go now, for always night and day<br /> +I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;<br /> +While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,<br /> +I hear it in the deep heart's core.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="A_CRADLE_SONG" id="A_CRADLE_SONG"></a>A CRADLE SONG</h3> + + +<p> +"<i>Coth yani me von gilli beg,<br /> +'N heur ve thu more a creena</i>."<br /> +<br /> +The angels are stooping<br /> +Above your bed;<br /> +They weary of trooping<br /> +With the whimpering dead.<br /> +<br /> +God's laughing in heaven<br /> +To see you so good;<br /> +The Shining Seven<br /> +Are gay with His mood.<br /> +<br /> +I kiss you and kiss you,<br /> +My pigeon, my own;<br /> +Ah, how I shall miss you<br /> +When you have grown.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_PITY_OF_LOVE" id="THE_PITY_OF_LOVE"></a>THE PITY OF LOVE</h3> + + +<p> +A pity beyond all telling<br /> +Is hid in the heart of love:<br /> +The folk who are buying and selling<br /> +The clouds on their journey above<br /> +The cold wet winds ever blowing<br /> +And the shadowy hazel grove<br /> +Where mouse-gray waters are flowing<br /> +Threaten the head that I love.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_SORROW_OF_LOVE" id="THE_SORROW_OF_LOVE"></a>THE SORROW OF LOVE</h3> + + +<p> +The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,<br /> +The full round moon and the star-laden sky,<br /> +And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves,<br /> +Had hid away earth's old and weary cry.<br /> +<br /> +And then you came with those red mournful lips,<br /> +And with you came the whole of the world's tears<br /> +And all the trouble of her labouring ships,<br /> +And all the trouble of her myriad years.<br /> +<br /> +And now the sparrows warring in the eaves,<br /> +The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky,<br /> +And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves,<br /> +Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="WHEN_YOU_ARE_OLD" id="WHEN_YOU_ARE_OLD"></a>WHEN YOU ARE OLD</h3> + + +<p> +When you are old and gray and full of sleep,<br /> +And nodding by the fire, take down this book,<br /> +And slowly read, and dream of the soft look<br /> +Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;<br /> +<br /> +How many loved your moments of glad grace,<br /> +And loved your beauty will love false or true;<br /> +But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,<br /> +And loved the sorrows of your changing face.<br /> +<br /> +And bending down beside the glowing bars<br /> +Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled<br /> +And paced upon the mountains overhead<br /> +And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_WHITE_BIRDS" id="THE_WHITE_BIRDS"></a>THE WHITE BIRDS</h3> + + +<p> +I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!<br /> +We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;<br /> +And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,<br /> +Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.<br /> +<br /> +A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew dabbled, the lily and rose;<br /> +Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,<br /> +Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span>For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam: I and you!<br /> +<br /> +I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,<br /> +Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more;<br /> +Soon far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be,<br /> +Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea!</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="A_DREAM_OF_DEATH" id="A_DREAM_OF_DEATH"></a>A DREAM OF DEATH</h3> + + +<p> +I dreamed that one had died in a strange place<br /> +Near no accustomed hand;<br /> +And they had nailed the boards above her face<br /> +The peasants of that land,<br /> +Wondering to lay her in that solitude,<br /> +And raised above her mound<br /> +A cross they had made out of two bits of wood,<br /> +And planted cypress round;<br /> +And left her to the indifferent stars above<br /> +Until I carved these words:<br /> +<i>She was more beautiful than thy first love,<br /> +But now lies under boards</i>.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="A_DREAM_OF_A_BLESSED_SPIRIT" id="A_DREAM_OF_A_BLESSED_SPIRIT"></a>A DREAM OF A BLESSED SPIRIT</h3> + + +<p> +All the heavy days are over;<br /> +Leave the body's coloured pride<br /> +Underneath the grass and clover,<br /> +With the feet laid side by side.<br /> +<br /> +One with her are mirth and duty,<br /> +Bear the gold embroidered dress,<br /> +For she needs not her sad beauty,<br /> +To the scented oaken press.<br /> +<br /> +Hers the kiss of Mother Mary,<br /> +The long hair is on her face;<br /> +Still she goes with footsteps wary,<br /> +Full of earth's old timid grace.<br /> +<br /> +With white feet of angels seven<br /> +Her white feet go glimmering<br /> +And above the deep of heaven,<br /> +Flame on flame and wing on wing.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="WHO_GOES_WITH_FERGUS" id="WHO_GOES_WITH_FERGUS"></a>WHO GOES WITH FERGUS?</h3> + + +<p> +Who will go drive with Fergus now,<br /> +And pierce the deep wood's woven shade,<br /> +And dance upon the level shore?<br /> +Young man, lift up your russet brow,<br /> +And lift your tender eyelids, maid,<br /> +And brood on hopes and fears no more.<br /> +<br /> +And no more turn aside and brood<br /> +Upon Love's bitter mystery;<br /> +For Fergus rules the brazen cars,<br /> +And rules the shadows of the wood,<br /> +And the white breast of the dim sea<br /> +And all dishevelled wandering stars.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_MAN_WHO_DREAMED_OF_FAERYLAND" id="THE_MAN_WHO_DREAMED_OF_FAERYLAND"></a>THE MAN WHO DREAMED OF +FAERYLAND</h3> + + +<p> +He stood among a crowd at Drumahair;<br /> +His heart hung all upon a silken dress,<br /> +And he had known at last some tenderness,<br /> +Before earth made of him her sleepy care;<br /> +But when a man poured fish into a pile,<br /> +It seemed they raised their little silver heads,<br /> +And sang how day a Druid twilight sheds<br /> +Upon a dim, green, well-beloved isle,<br /> +Where people love beside star-laden seas;<br /> +How Time may never mar their faery vows<br /> +Under the woven roofs of quicken boughs:<br /> +The singing shook him out of his new ease.<br /> +<br /> +He wandered by the sands of Lisadill;<br /> +His mind ran all on money cares and fears,<br /> +And he had known at last some prudent years<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span>Before they heaped his grave under the hill;<br /> +But while he passed before a plashy place,<br /> +A lug-worm with its gray and muddy mouth<br /> +Sang how somewhere to north or west or south<br /> +There dwelt a gay, exulting, gentle race;<br /> +And how beneath those three times blessed skies<br /> +A Danaan fruitage makes a shower of moons,<br /> +And as it falls awakens leafy tunes:<br /> +And at that singing he was no more wise.<br /> +<br /> +He mused beside the well of Scanavin,<br /> +He mused upon his mockers: without fail<br /> +His sudden vengeance were a country tale,<br /> +Now that deep earth has drunk his body in;<br /> +But one small knot-grass growing by the pool<br /> +Told where, ah, little, all-unneeded voice!<br /> +Old Silence bids a lonely folk rejoice,<br /> +And chaplet their calm brows with leafage cool,<br /> +And how, when fades the sea-strewn rose of day,<br /> +A gentle feeling wraps them like a fleece,<br /> +And all their trouble dies into its peace:<br /> +The tale drove his fine angry mood away.<br /> +<br /> +He slept under the hill of Lugnagall;<br /> +And might have known at last unhaunted sleep<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span>Under that cold and vapour-turbaned steep,<br /> +Now that old earth had taken man and all:<br /> +Were not the worms that spired about his bones<br /> +A-telling with their low and reedy cry,<br /> +Of how God leans His hands out of the sky,<br /> +To bless that isle with honey in His tones;<br /> +That none may feel the power of squall and wave<br /> +And no one any leaf-crowned dancer miss<br /> +Until He burn up Nature with a kiss:<br /> +The man has found no comfort in the grave.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_DEDICATION_TO_A_BOOK_OF_STORIES_SELECTED_FROM_THE_IRISH_NOVELISTS" id="THE_DEDICATION_TO_A_BOOK_OF_STORIES_SELECTED_FROM_THE_IRISH_NOVELISTS"></a>THE DEDICATION TO A BOOK OF +STORIES SELECTED FROM THE +IRISH NOVELISTS</h3> + + +<p> +There was a green branch hung with many a bell<br /> +When her own people ruled in wave-worn Eire;<br /> +And from its murmuring greenness, calm of faery,<br /> +A Druid kindness, on all hearers fell.<br /> +<br /> +It charmed away the merchant from his guile,<br /> +And turned the farmer's memory from his cattle,<br /> +And hushed in sleep the roaring ranks of battle,<br /> +For all who heard it dreamed a little while.<br /> +<br /> +Ah, Exiles wandering over many seas,<br /> +Spinning at all times Eire's good to-morrow!<br /> +Ah, worldwide Nation, always growing Sorrow!<br /> +I also bear a bell branch full of ease.<br /> +<br /> +I tore it from green boughs winds tossed and hurled,<br /> +Green boughs of tossing always, weary, weary!<br /> +I tore it from the green boughs of old Eire,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span>The willow of the many-sorrowed world.<br /> +<br /> +Ah, Exiles, wandering over many lands!<br /> +My bell branch murmurs: the gay bells bring laughter,<br /> +Leaping to shake a cobweb from the rafter;<br /> +The sad bells bow the forehead on the hands.<br /> +<br /> +A honeyed ringing: under the new skies<br /> +They bring you memories of old village faces,<br /> +Cabins gone now, old well-sides, old dear places;<br /> +And men who loved the cause that never dies.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_LAMENTATION_OF_THE_OLD_PENSIONER" id="THE_LAMENTATION_OF_THE_OLD_PENSIONER"></a>THE LAMENTATION OF THE OLD +PENSIONER</h3> + + +<p> +I had a chair at every hearth,<br /> +When no one turned to see,<br /> +With "Look at that old fellow there,<br /> +"And who may he be?"<br /> +And therefore do I wander now,<br /> +And the fret lies on me.<br /> +<br /> +The road-side trees keep murmuring<br /> +Ah, wherefore murmur ye,<br /> +As in the old days long gone by,<br /> +Green oak and poplar tree?<br /> +The well-known faces are all gone<br /> +And the fret lies on me.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_BALLAD_OF_FATHER_GILLIGAN" id="THE_BALLAD_OF_FATHER_GILLIGAN"></a>THE BALLAD OF FATHER GILLIGAN</h3> + + +<p> +The old priest Peter Gilligan<br /> +Was weary night and day;<br /> +For half his flock were in their beds,<br /> +Or under green sods lay.<br /> +<br /> +Once, while he nodded on a chair,<br /> +At the moth-hour of eve,<br /> +Another poor man sent for him,<br /> +And he began to grieve.<br /> +<br /> +"I have no rest, nor joy, nor peace,<br /> +"For people die and die";<br /> +And after cried he, "God forgive!<br /> +"My body spake, not I!"<br /> +<br /> +He knelt, and leaning on the chair<br /> +He prayed and fell asleep;<br /> +And the moth-hour went from the fields,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span>And stars began to peep.<br /> +<br /> +They slowly into millions grew,<br /> +And leaves shook in the wind;<br /> +And God covered the world with shade,<br /> +And whispered to mankind.<br /> +<br /> +Upon the time of sparrow chirp<br /> +When the moths came once more,<br /> +The old priest Peter Gilligan<br /> +Stood upright on the floor.<br /> +<br /> +"Mavrone, mavrone! the man has died,<br /> +"While I slept on the chair";<br /> +He roused his horse out of its sleep,<br /> +And rode with little care.<br /> +<br /> +He rode now as he never rode,<br /> +By rocky lane and fen;<br /> +The sick man's wife opened the door:<br /> +"Father! you come again!"<br /> +<br /> +"And is the poor man dead?" he cried,<br /> +"He died an hour ago,"<br /> +The old priest Peter Gilligan<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span>In grief swayed to and fro.<br /> +<br /> +"When you were gone, he turned and died<br /> +"As merry as a bird."<br /> +The old priest Peter Gilligan<br /> +He knelt him at that word.<br /> +<br /> +"He who hath made the night of stars<br /> +"For souls, who tire and bleed,<br /> +"Sent one of His great angels down<br /> +"To help me in my need.<br /> +<br /> +"He who is wrapped in purple robes,<br /> +"With planets in His care,<br /> +"Had pity on the least of things<br /> +"Asleep upon a chair."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_TWO_TREES" id="THE_TWO_TREES"></a>THE TWO TREES</h3> + + +<p> +Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,<br /> +The holy tree is growing there;<br /> +From joy the holy branches start,<br /> +And all the trembling flowers they bear.<br /> +The changing colours of its fruit<br /> +Have dowered the stars with merry light;<br /> +The surety of its hidden root<br /> +Has planted quiet in the night;<br /> +The shaking of its leafy head<br /> +Has given the waves their melody,<br /> +And made my lips and music wed,<br /> +Murmuring a wizard song for thee.<br /> +There, through bewildered branches, go<br /> +Winged Loves borne on in gentle strife,<br /> +Tossing and tossing to and fro<br /> +The flaming circle of our life.<br /> +When looking on their shaken hair,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span>And dreaming how they dance and dart,<br /> +Thine eyes grow full of tender care:<br /> +Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.<br /> +<br /> +Gaze no more in the bitter glass<br /> +The demons, with their subtle guile,<br /> +Lift up before us when they pass,<br /> +Or only gaze a little while;<br /> +For there a fatal image grows,<br /> +With broken boughs, and blackened leaves,<br /> +And roots half hidden under snows<br /> +Driven by a storm that ever grieves.<br /> +For all things turn to barrenness<br /> +In the dim glass the demons hold,<br /> +The glass of outer weariness,<br /> +Made when God slept in times of old.<br /> +There, through the broken branches, go<br /> +The ravens of unresting thought;<br /> +Peering and flying to and fro<br /> +To see men's souls bartered and bought.<br /> +When they are heard upon the wind,<br /> +And when they shake their wings; alas!<br /> +Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:<br /> +Gaze no more in the bitter glass.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="TO_IRELAND_IN_THE_COMING_TIMES" id="TO_IRELAND_IN_THE_COMING_TIMES"></a>TO IRELAND IN THE COMING TIMES</h3> + + +<p> +<i>Know, that I would accounted be<br /> +True brother of that company,<br /> +Who sang to sweeten Ireland's wrong,<br /> +Ballad and story, rann and song;<br /> +Nor be I any less of them,<br /> +Because the red-rose-bordered hem<br /> +Of her, whose history began<br /> +Before God made the angelic clan,<br /> +Trails all about the written page;<br /> +For in the world's first blossoming age<br /> +The light fall of her flying feet<br /> +Made Ireland's heart begin to beat;<br /> +And still the starry candles flare<br /> +To help her light foot here and there;<br /> +And still the thoughts of Ireland brood<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span>Upon her holy quietude.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Nor may I less be counted one<br /> +With Davis, Mangan, Ferguson,<br /> +Because to him, who ponders well,<br /> +My rhymes more than their rhyming tell<br /> +Of the dim wisdoms old and deep,<br /> +That God gives unto man in sleep.<br /> +For the elemental beings go<br /> +About my table to and fro.<br /> +In flood and fire and clay and wind,<br /> +They huddle from man's pondering mind;<br /> +Yet he who treads in austere ways<br /> +May surely meet their ancient gaze.<br /> +Man ever journeys on with them<br /> +After the red-rose-bordered hem.<br /> +Ah, faeries, dancing under the moon,<br /> +A Druid land, a Druid tune!</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>While still I may, I write for you<br /> +The love I lived, the dream I knew.<br /> +From our birthday, until we die,<br /> +Is but the winking of an eye;<br /> +And we, our singing and our love,<br /> +The mariners of night above,<br /> +And all the wizard things that go<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span>About my table to and fro.<br /> +Are passing on to where may be,<br /> +In truth's consuming ecstasy<br /> +No place for love and dream at all;<br /> +For God goes by with white foot-fall.<br /> +I cast my heart into my rhymes,<br /> +That you, in the dim coming times,<br /> +May know how my heart went with them<br /> +After the red-rose-bordered hem.</i></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a><br /><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a></span></p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_LAND_OF_HEARTS_DESIRE" id="THE_LAND_OF_HEARTS_DESIRE"></a>THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE</h2> + + +<p class="center p6"> +<i>O Rose, thou art sick.</i></p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">William Blake.</span></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a></span></p> + +<p class="center p6">TO<br /> + +FLORENCE FARR</p><p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a><br /><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span></p> + + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="characters"> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Maurteen Bruin</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Bridget Bruin</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Shawn Bruin</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mary Bruin</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Father Hart</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Faery Child</span></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p class="exposition"><i>The Scene is laid in the Barony of Kilmacowen, in the +County of Sligo, and at a remote time.</i></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a><br /><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span></p> + + +<p class="exposition"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A room with a hearth on the floor in the middle of a +deep alcove to the Right. There are benches in the alcove +and a table; and a crucifix on the wall. The alcove is +full of a glow of light from the fire. There is an open door +facing the audience to the Left, and to the left of this a +bench. Through the door one can see the forest. It is +night, but the moon or a late sunset glimmers through the +trees and carries the eye far off into a vague, mysterious +world.</i> <span class="smcap">MAURTEEN BRUIN</span>, <span class="smcap">SHAWN BRUIN</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">BRIDGET +BRUIN</span> <i>sit in the alcove at the table or about the fire. They +are dressed in the costume of some remote time, and near +them sits an old priest</i>, <span class="smcap">FATHER HART</span>. <i>He may be dressed +as a friar. There is food and drink upon the table</i>. +<span class="smcap">MARY BRUIN</span> <i>stands by the door reading a book. If she +looks up she can see through the door into the wood.</i></p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">Because I bid her clean the pots for supper<br /> +She took that old book down out of the thatch;<br /> +She has been doubled over it ever since.<br /> +We should be deafened by her groans and moans<br /> +Had she to work as some do, Father Hart;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span>Get up at dawn like me and mend and scour<br /> +Or ride abroad in the boisterous night like you,<br /> +The pyx and blessed bread under your arm.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Mother, you are too cross.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">You've married her,</span><br /> +And fear to vex her and so take her part.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">FATHER HART</span>)</p> + +<p class="speech">It is but right that youth should side with youth;<br /> +She quarrels with my wife a bit at times,<br /> +And is too deep just now in the old book!<br /> +But do not blame her greatly; she will grow<br /> +As quiet as a puff-ball in a tree<br /> +When but the moons of marriage dawn and die<br /> +For half a score of times.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Their hearts are wild,</span><br /> +As be the hearts of birds, till children come.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">She would not mind the kettle, milk the cow,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span>Or even lay the knives and spread the cloth.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Mother, if only——</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">Shawn, this is half empty;</span><br /> +Go, bring up the best bottle that we have.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">I never saw her read a book before,<br /> +What can it be?</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">SHAWN</span>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9em;">What are you waiting for?</span><br /> +You must not shake it when you draw the cork;<br /> +It's precious wine, so take your time about it.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>To Priest.</i>) (<span class="smcap">SHAWN</span> <i>goes</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">There was a Spaniard wrecked at Ocris Head,<br /> +When I was young, and I have still some bottles.<br /> +He cannot bear to hear her blamed; the book<br /> +Has lain up in the thatch these fifty years;<br /> +My father told me my grandfather wrote it,<br /> +And killed a heifer for the binding of it—<br /> +But supper's spread, and we can talk and eat<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span>It was little good he got out of the book,<br /> +Because it filled his house with rambling fiddlers,<br /> +And rambling ballad-makers and the like.<br /> +The griddle-bread is there in front of you.<br /> +Colleen, what is the wonder in that book,<br /> +That you must leave the bread to cool? Had I<br /> +Or had my father read or written books<br /> +There were no stocking stuffed with yellow guineas<br /> +To come when I am dead to Shawn and you.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">You should not fill your head with foolish dreams.<br /> +What are you reading?</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">How a Princess Edane,</span><br /> +A daughter of a King of Ireland, heard<br /> +A voice singing on a May Eve like this,<br /> +And followed half awake and half asleep,<br /> +Until she came into the Land of Faery,<br /> +Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,<br /> +Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,<br /> +Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue.<br /> +And she is still there, busied with a dance<br /> +Deep in the dewy shadow of a wood,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span>Or where stars walk upon a mountain-top.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Persuade the colleen to put down the book;<br /> +My grandfather would mutter just such things,<br /> +And he was no judge of a dog or a horse,<br /> +And any idle boy could blarney him;<br /> +Just speak your mind.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">Put it away, my colleen;</span><br /> +God spreads the heavens above us like great wings<br /> +And gives a little round of deeds and days,<br /> +And then come the wrecked angels and set snares,<br /> +And bait them with light hopes and heavy dreams,<br /> +Until the heart is puffed with pride and goes<br /> +Half shuddering and half joyous from God's peace;<br /> +And it was some wrecked angel, blind with tears,<br /> +Who flattered Edane's heart with merry words.<br /> +My colleen, I have seen some other girls<br /> +Restless and ill at ease, but years went by<br /> +And they grew like their neighbours and were glad<br /> +In minding children, working at the churn,<br /> +And gossiping of weddings and of wakes;<br /> +For life moves out of a red flare of dreams<br /> +Into a common light of common hours,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span>Until old age bring the red flare again.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">That's true—but she's too young to know it's true.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">She's old enough to know that it is wrong<br /> +To mope and idle.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">I've little blame for her;</span><br /> +She's dull when my big son is in the fields,<br /> +And that and maybe this good woman's tongue<br /> +Have driven her to hide among her dreams<br /> +Like children from the dark under the bed-clothes.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">She'd never do a turn if I were silent.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">And maybe it is natural upon May Eve<br /> +To dream of the good people. But tell me, girl,<br /> +If you've the branch of blessed quicken wood<br /> +That women hang upon the post of the door<br /> +That they may send good luck into the house?<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span>Remember they may steal new-married brides<br /> +After the fall of twilight on May Eve,<br /> +Or what old women mutter at the fire<br /> +Is but a pack of lies.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">It may be truth.</span><br /> +We do not know the limit of those powers<br /> +God has permitted to the evil spirits<br /> +For some mysterious end. You have done right (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">MARY</span>);<br /> +It's well to keep old innocent customs up.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">MARY BRUIN</span> <i>has taken a bough of quicken wood +from a seat and hung it on a nail in the door-post. +A girl child strangely dressed, perhaps +in faery green, comes out of the wood and +takes it away</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I had no sooner hung it on the nail<br /> +Before a child ran up out of the wind;<br /> +She has caught it in her hand and fondled it;<br /> +Her face is pale as water before dawn.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span>Whose child can this be?</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">No one's child at all.</span><br /> +She often dreams that some one has gone by,<br /> +When there was nothing but a puff of wind.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">They have taken away the blessed quicken wood,<br /> +They will not bring good luck into the house;<br /> +Yet I am glad that I was courteous to them,<br /> +For are not they, likewise, children of God?</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">Colleen, they are the children of the fiend,<br /> +And they have power until the end of Time,<br /> +When God shall fight with them a great pitched battle<br /> +And hack them into pieces.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">He will smile,</span><br /> +Father, perhaps, and open His great door.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span>Did but the lawless angels see that door<br /> +They would fall, slain by everlasting peace;<br /> +And when such angels knock upon our doors,<br /> +Who goes with them must drive through the same storm.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A thin old arm comes round the door-post and +knocks and beckons. It is clearly seen in +the silvery light.</i> <span class="smcap">MARY BRUIN</span> <i>goes to door +and stands in it for a moment</i>. <span class="smcap">MAURTEEN +BRUIN</span> <i>is busy filling</i> <span class="smcap">FATHER HART'S</span> <i>plate</i>. +<span class="smcap">BRIDGET BRUIN</span> <i>stirs the fire</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY (<i>coming to table</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">There's somebody out there that beckoned me<br /> +And raised her hand as though it held a cup,<br /> +And she was drinking from it, so it may be<br /> +That she is thirsty.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She takes milk from the table and carries it to +the door.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">That will be the child</span><br /> +That you would have it was no child at all.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span>And maybe, Father, what he said was true;<br /> +For there is not another night in the year<br /> +So wicked as to-night.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">Nothing can harm us</span><br /> +While the good Father's underneath our roof.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">A little queer old woman dressed in green.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">The good people beg for milk and fire<br /> +Upon May Eve—woe to the house that gives,<br /> +For they have power upon it for a year.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Hush, woman, hush!</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">She's given milk away.</span><br /> +I knew she would bring evil on the house.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span>Who was it?</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 7em;">Both the tongue and face were strange.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Some strangers came last week to Clover Hill;<br /> +She must be one of them.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">I am afraid.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">The Cross will keep all evil from the house<br /> +While it hangs there.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">Come, sit beside me, colleen,</span><br /> +And put away your dreams of discontent,<br /> +For I would have you light up my last days,<br /> +Like the good glow of the turf; and when I die<br /> +You'll be the wealthiest hereabout, for, colleen,<br /> +I have a stocking full of yellow guineas<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span>Hidden away where nobody can find it.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">You are the fool of every pretty face,<br /> +And I must spare and pinch that my son's wife<br /> +May have all kinds of ribbons for her head.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Do not be cross; she is a right good girl!<br /> +The butter is by your elbow, Father Hart.<br /> +My colleen, have not Fate and Time and Change<br /> +Done well for me and for old Bridget there?<br /> +We have a hundred acres of good land,<br /> +And sit beside each other at the fire.<br /> +I have this reverend Father for my friend,<br /> +I look upon your face and my son's face—<br /> +We've put his plate by yours—and here he comes,<br /> +And brings with him the only thing we have lacked,<br /> +Abundance of good wine. (<span class="smcap">SHAWN</span> <i>comes in</i>.) Stir up the fire,<br /> +And put new turf upon it till it blaze;<br /> +To watch the turf-smoke coiling from the fire,<br /> +And feel content and wisdom in your heart,<br /> +This is the best of life; when we are young<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span>We long to tread a way none trod before,<br /> +But find the excellent old way through love,<br /> +And through the care of children, to the hour<br /> +For bidding Fate and Time and Change goodbye.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">MARY</span> <i>takes a sod of turf from the fire and goes +out through the door</i>. <span class="smcap">SHAWN</span> <i>follows her +and meets her coming in</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">What is it draws you to the chill o' the wood?<br /> +There is a light among the stems of the trees<br /> +That makes one shiver.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">A little queer old man</span><br /> +Made me a sign to show he wanted fire<br /> +To light his pipe.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">You've given milk and fire</span><br /> +Upon the unluckiest night of the year and brought,<br /> +For all you know, evil upon the house.<br /> +Before you married you were idle and fine<br /> +And went about with ribbons on your head;<br /> +And now—no, Father, I will speak my mind—<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span>She is not a fitting wife for any man——</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Be quiet, Mother!</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">You are much too cross.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">What do I care if I have given this house,<br /> +Where I must hear all day a bitter tongue,<br /> +Into the power of faeries!</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">You know well</span><br /> +How calling the good people by that name,<br /> +Or talking of them over much at all,<br /> +May bring all kinds of evil on the house.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Come, faeries, take me out of this dull house!<br /> +Let me have all the freedom I have lost;<br /> +Work when I will and idle when I will!<br /> +Faeries, come take me out of this dull world,<br /> +For I would ride with you upon the wind.<br /> +Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span>And dance upon the mountains like a flame.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">You cannot know the meaning of your words.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Father, I am right weary of four tongues:<br /> +A tongue that is too crafty and too wise,<br /> +A tongue that is too godly and too grave,<br /> +A tongue that is more bitter than the tide,<br /> +And a kind tongue too full of drowsy love,<br /> +Of drowsy love and my captivity.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">SHAWN BRUIN</span> <i>leads her to a seat at the left of +the door</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Do not blame me; I often lie awake<br /> +Thinking that all things trouble your bright head.<br /> +How beautiful it is—your broad pale forehead<br /> +Under a cloudy blossoming of hair!<br /> +Sit down beside me here—these are too old,<br /> +And have forgotten they were ever young.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">O, you are the great door-post of this house,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span>And I the branch of blessed quicken wood,<br /> +And if I could I'd hang upon the post,<br /> +Till I had brought good luck into the house.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She would put her arms about him, but looks +shyly at the priest and lets her arms fall.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">My daughter, take his hand—by love alone<br /> +God binds us to Himself and to the hearth,<br /> +That shuts us from the waste beyond His peace,<br /> +From maddening freedom and bewildering light.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Would that the world were mine to give it you,<br /> +And not its quiet hearths alone, but even<br /> +All that bewilderment of light and freedom,<br /> +If you would have it.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">I would take the world</span><br /> +And break it into pieces in my hands<br /> +To see you smile watching it crumble away.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Then I would mould a world of fire and dew,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span>With no one bitter, grave or over wise,<br /> +And nothing marred or old to do you wrong,<br /> +And crowd the enraptured quiet of the sky<br /> +With candles burning to your lonely face.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Your looks are all the candles that I need.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Once a fly dancing in a beam of the sun,<br /> +Or the light wind blowing out of the dawn,<br /> +Could fill your heart with dreams none other knew,<br /> +But now the indissoluble sacrament<br /> +Has mixed your heart that was most proud and cold<br /> +With my warm heart for ever; the sun and moon<br /> +Must fade and heaven be rolled up like a scroll;<br /> +But your white spirit still walk by my spirit.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A Voice singing in the wood.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">There's some one singing. Why, it's but a child.<br /> +It sang, "The lonely of heart is withered away."<br /> +A strange song for a child, but she sings sweetly.<br /> +Listen, listen!</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Goes to door.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">O, cling close to me,</span><br /> +Because I have said wicked things to-night.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE VOICE</p> + +<p class="speech">The wind blows out of the gates of the day,<br /> +The wind blows over the lonely of heart,<br /> +And the lonely of heart is withered away.<br /> +While the faeries dance in a place apart,<br /> +Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring,<br /> +Tossing their milk-white arms in the air;<br /> +For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing<br /> +Of a land where even the old are fair,<br /> +And even the wise are merry of tongue;<br /> +But I heard a reed of Coolaney say,<br /> +"When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung<br /> +The lonely of heart is withered away!"</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Being happy, I would have all others happy,<br /> +So I will bring her in out of the cold.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He brings in the faery child.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span>I tire of winds and waters and pale lights.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">And that's no wonder, for when night has fallen<br /> +The wood's a cold and a bewildering place,<br /> +But you are welcome here.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">I am welcome here.</span><br /> +For when I tire of this warm little house<br /> +There is one here that must away, away.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">O, listen to her dreamy and strange talk.<br /> +Are you not cold?</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">I will crouch down beside you,</span><br /> +For I have run a long, long way this night.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">You have a comely shape.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span><span style="margin-left: 13em;">Your hair is wet.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">I'll warm your chilly feet.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">You have come indeed</span><br /> +A long, long way—for I have never seen<br /> +Your pretty face—and must be tired and hungry,<br /> +Here is some bread and wine.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">The wine is bitter.</span><br /> +Old mother, have you no sweet food for me?</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">I have some honey.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She goes into the next room.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">You have coaxing ways,</span><br /> +The mother was quite cross before you came.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">BRIDGET</span> <i>returns with the honey and fills a porringer with milk</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">She is the child of gentle people; look<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span>At her white hands and at her pretty dress.<br /> +I've brought you some new milk, but wait a while<br /> +And I will put it to the fire to warm,<br /> +For things well fitted for poor folk like us<br /> +Would never please a high-born child like you.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">From dawn, when you must blow the fire ablaze,<br /> +You work your fingers to the bone, old mother.<br /> +The young may lie in bed and dream and hope,<br /> +But you must work your fingers to the bone<br /> +Because your heart is old.</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">The young are idle.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Your memories have made you wise, old father;<br /> +The young must sigh through many a dream and hope,<br /> +But you are wise because your heart is old.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">BRIDGET</span> <i>gives her more bread and honey</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">O, who would think to find so young a girl<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span>Loving old age and wisdom?</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">No more, mother.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">What a small bite! The milk is ready now. (<i>Hands it to her.</i>) What a small sip!</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">Put on my shoes, old mother.</span><br /> +Now I would like to dance now I have eaten,<br /> +The reeds are dancing by Coolaney lake,<br /> +And I would like to dance until the reeds<br /> +And the white waves have danced themselves asleep.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">BRIDGET</span> <i>puts on the shoes, and the</i> <span class="smcap">CHILD</span> <i>is about +to dance, but suddenly sees the crucifix and +shrieks and covers her eyes</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">What is that ugly thing on the black cross?</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">You cannot know how naughty your words are!<br /> +That is our Blessed Lord.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span><span style="margin-left: 13em;">Hide it away!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">I have begun to be afraid again.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16em;">Hide it away!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">That would be wickedness!</p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">That would be sacrilege!</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">The tortured thing!</span><br /> +Hide it away!</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 7em;">Her parents are to blame.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">That is the image of the Son of God.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD (<i>caressing him</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span>Hide it away, hide it away!</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">No, no.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">Because you are so young and like a bird,<br /> +That must take fright at every stir of the leaves,<br /> +I will go take it down.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 12em;">Hide it away!</span><br /> +And cover it out of sight and out of mind!</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">FATHER HART</span> <i>takes crucifix from wall and +carries it towards inner room</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">Since you have come into this barony,<br /> +I will instruct you in our blessed faith;<br /> +And being so keen witted you'll soon learn.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>To the others.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">We must be tender to all budding things,<br /> +Our Maker let no thought of Calvary<br /> +Trouble the morning stars in their first song.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Puts crucifix in inner room.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Here is level ground for dancing; I will dance.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Sings.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">"The wind blows out of the gates of the day,<br /> +The wind blows over the lonely of heart,<br /> +And the lonely of heart is withered away."</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She dances.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">SHAWN</span>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Just now when she came near I thought I heard<br /> +Other small steps beating upon the floor,<br /> +And a faint music blowing in the wind,<br /> +Invisible pipes giving her feet the tune.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">I heard no steps but hers.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">I hear them now,</span><br /> +The unholy powers are dancing in the house.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Come over here, and if you promise me<br /> +Not to talk wickedly of holy things<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span>I will give you something.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">Bring it me, old father.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Here are some ribbons that I bought in the town<br /> +For my son's wife—but she will let me give them<br /> +To tie up that wild hair the winds have tumbled.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Come, tell me, do you love me?</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16em;">Yes, I love you.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Ah, but you love this fireside. Do you love me?</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">When the Almighty puts so great a share<br /> +Of His own ageless youth into a creature,<br /> +To look is but to love.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span><span style="margin-left: 12em;">But you love Him?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">She is blaspheming.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">And do you love me too?</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I do not know.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 8em;">You love that young man there,</span><br /> +Yet I could make you ride upon the winds,<br /> +Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,<br /> +And dance upon the mountains like a flame.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Queen of Angels and kind saints defend us!<br /> +Some dreadful thing will happen. A while ago<br /> +She took away the blessed quicken wood.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">You fear because of her unmeasured prattle;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span>She knows no better. Child, how old are you?</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">When winter sleep is abroad my hair grows thin,<br /> +My feet unsteady. When the leaves awaken<br /> +My mother carries me in her golden arms;<br /> +I'll soon put on my womanhood and marry<br /> +The spirits of wood and water, but who can tell<br /> +When I was born for the first time? I think<br /> +I am much older than the eagle cock<br /> +That blinks and blinks on Ballygawley Hill,<br /> +And he is the oldest thing under the moon.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">O she is of the faery people.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">One called,</span><br /> +I sent my messengers for milk and fire,<br /> +She called again and after that I came.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>All except</i> <span class="smcap">SHAWN</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">MARY BRUIN</span> <i>gather +behind the priest for protection</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN (<i>rising</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Though you have made all these obedient,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span>You have not charmed my sight and won from me<br /> +A wish or gift to make you powerful;<br /> +I'll turn you from the house.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">No, I will face her.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Because you took away the crucifix<br /> +I am so mighty that there's none can pass,<br /> +Unless I will it, where my feet have danced<br /> +Or where I've whirled my finger-tops.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">SHAWN</span> <i>tries to approach her and cannot</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 19em;">Look, look!</span><br /> +There something stops him—look how he moves his hands<br /> +As though he rubbed them on a wall of glass!</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">I will confront this mighty spirit alone;<br /> +Be not afraid, the Father is with us,<br /> +The Holy Martyrs and the Innocents,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span>The adoring Magi in their coats of mail,<br /> +And He who died and rose on the third day,<br /> +And all the nine angelic hierarchies.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">CHILD</span> <i>kneels upon the settle beside</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>and +puts her arms about her</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">Cry, daughter, to the Angels and the Saints.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">You shall go with me, newly-married bride,<br /> +And gaze upon a merrier multitude.<br /> +White-armed Nuala, Aengus of the Birds,<br /> +Feacra of the hurtling foam, and him<br /> +Who is the ruler of the Western Host,<br /> +Finvarra, and their Land of Heart's Desire,<br /> +Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood,<br /> +But joy is wisdom, Time an endless song.<br /> +I kiss you and the world begins to fade.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech">Awake out of that trance—and cover up<br /> +Your eyes and ears.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">She must both look and listen,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span>For only the soul's choice can save her now.<br /> +Come over to me, daughter; stand beside me;<br /> +Think of this house and of your duties in it.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Stay and come with me, newly-married bride,<br /> +For if you hear him you grow like the rest;<br /> +Bear children, cook, and bend above the churn,<br /> +And wrangle over butter, fowl, and eggs,<br /> +Until at last, grown old and bitter of tongue,<br /> +You're crouching there and shivering at the grave.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">Daughter, I point you out the way to Heaven.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">But I can lead you, newly-married bride,<br /> +Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,<br /> +Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,<br /> +Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue,<br /> +And where kind tongues bring no captivity;<br /> +For we are but obedient to the thoughts<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span>That drift into the mind at a wink of the eye.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">By the dear Name of the One crucified,<br /> +I bid you, Mary Bruin, come to me.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">I keep you in the name of your own heart.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">It is because I put away the crucifix<br /> +That I am nothing, and my power is nothing.<br /> +I'll bring it here again.</p> + +<p class="actor">MAURTEEN (<i>clinging to him</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">No.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Do not leave us.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">O, let me go before it is too late;<br /> +It is my sin alone that brought it all.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Singing outside.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">I hear them sing, "Come, newly-married bride,<br /> +Come, to the woods and waters and pale lights."</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I will go with you.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">She is lost, alas!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD (<i>standing by the door</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">But clinging mortal hope must fall from you,<br /> +For we who ride the winds, run on the waves,<br /> +And dance upon the mountains are more light<br /> +Than dewdrops on the banner of the dawn.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">O, take me with you.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">Beloved, I will keep you.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span>I've more than words, I have these arms to hold you,<br /> +Nor all the faery host, do what they please,<br /> +Shall ever make me loosen you from these arms.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">Dear face! Dear voice!</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">Come, newly-married bride.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I always loved her world—and yet—and yet——</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">White bird, white bird, come with me, little bird.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">She calls me!</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 7em;">Come with me, little bird.</span></p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Distant dancing figures appear in the wood.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I can hear songs and dancing.</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Stay with me.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">MARY</p> + +<p class="speech">I think that I would stay—and yet—and yet——</p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Come, little bird, with crest of gold.</p> + +<p class="actor">MARY (<i>very softly</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 19em;">And yet——</span></p> + +<p class="actor">THE CHILD</p> + +<p class="speech">Come, little bird with silver feet!</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">MARY BRUIN</span> <i>dies, and the</i> <span class="smcap">CHILD</span> <i>goes</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">SHAWN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span><span style="margin-left: 18em;">She is dead!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">BRIDGET</p> + +<p class="speech">Come from that image; body and soul are gone.<br /> +You have thrown your arms about a drift of leaves,<br /> +Or bole of an ash-tree changed into her image.</p> + +<p class="actor">FATHER HART</p> + +<p class="speech">Thus do the spirits of evil snatch their prey,<br /> +Almost out of the very hand of God;<br /> +And day by day their power is more and more,<br /> +And men and women leave old paths, for pride<br /> +Comes knocking with thin knuckles on the heart.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>Outside there are dancing figures, and it may be a +white bird, and many voices singing</i>:)</p> + +<p class="speech">"The wind blows out of the gates of the day,<br /> +The wind blows over the lonely of heart,<br /> +And the lonely of heart is withered away;<br /> +While the faeries dance in a place apart,<br /> +Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring,<br /> +Tossing their milk-white arms in the air;<br /> +For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing<br /> +Of a land where even the old are fair,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span>And even the wise are merry of tongue;<br /> +But I heard a reed of Coolaney say—<br /> +'When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung,<br /> +The lonely of heart is withered away.'"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a><br /><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a></span></p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CROSSWAYS" id="CROSSWAYS"></a>CROSSWAYS</h2> + + +<p class="center p6"> +<i>"The stars are threshed, and the souls are threshed from their husks."</i></p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">William Blake.</span></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a></span></p> + +<p class="center p6">To <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a><br /> +<a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span>A.E.</p> + + +<h3 class="p6"><a name="THE_SONG_OF_THE_HAPPY_SHEPHERD" id="THE_SONG_OF_THE_HAPPY_SHEPHERD"></a>THE SONG OF THE HAPPY +SHEPHERD</h3> + + +<p> +The woods of Arcady are dead,<br /> +And over is their antique joy;<br /> +Of old the world on dreaming fed;<br /> +Gray Truth is now her painted toy;<br /> +Yet still she turns her restless head:<br /> +But O, sick children of the world,<br /> +Of all the many changing things<br /> +In dreary dancing past us whirled,<br /> +To the cracked tune that Chronos sings,<br /> +Words alone are certain good.<br /> +Where are now the warring kings,<br /> +Word be-mockers?—By the Rood<br /> +Where are now the warring kings?<br /> +An idle word is now their glory,<br /> +By the stammering schoolboy said,<br /> +Reading some entangled story:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span>The kings of the old time are fled<br /> +The wandering earth herself may be<br /> +Only a sudden flaming word,<br /> +In clanging space a moment heard,<br /> +Troubling the endless reverie.<br /> +<br /> +Then nowise worship dusty deeds,<br /> +Nor seek; for this is also sooth;<br /> +To hunger fiercely after truth,<br /> +Lest all thy toiling only breeds<br /> +New dreams, new dreams; there is no truth<br /> +Saving in thine own heart. Seek, then,<br /> +No learning from the starry men,<br /> +Who follow with the optic glass<br /> +The whirling ways of stars that pass—<br /> +Seek, then, for this is also sooth,<br /> +No word of theirs—the cold star-bane<br /> +Has cloven and rent their hearts in twain,<br /> +And dead is all their human truth.<br /> +Go gather by the humming-sea<br /> +Some twisted, echo-harbouring shell,<br /> +And to its lips thy story tell,<br /> +And they thy comforters will be,<br /> +Rewarding in melodious guile,<br /> +Thy fretful words a little while,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span>Till they shall singing fade in ruth,<br /> +And die a pearly brotherhood;<br /> +For words alone are certain good:<br /> +Sing, then, for this is also sooth.<br /> +<br /> +I must be gone: there is a grave<br /> +Where daffodil and lily wave,<br /> +And I would please the hapless faun,<br /> +Buried under the sleepy ground,<br /> +With mirthful songs before the dawn.<br /> +His shouting days with mirth were crowned;<br /> +And still I dream he treads the lawn,<br /> +Walking ghostly in the dew,<br /> +Pierced by my glad singing through,<br /> +My songs of old earth's dreamy youth:<br /> +But ah! she dreams not now; dream thou!<br /> +For fair are poppies on the brow:<br /> +Dream, dream, for this is also sooth.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_SAD_SHEPHERD" id="THE_SAD_SHEPHERD"></a>THE SAD SHEPHERD</h3> + + +<p> +There was a man whom Sorrow named his friend,<br /> +And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming,<br /> +Went walking with slow steps along the gleaming<br /> +And humming sands, where windy surges wend:<br /> +And he called loudly to the stars to bend<br /> +From their pale thrones and comfort him, but they<br /> +Among themselves laugh on and sing alway:<br /> +And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend<br /> +Cried out, <i>Dim sea, hear my most piteous story!</i><br /> +The sea swept on and cried her old cry still,<br /> +Rolling along in dreams from hill to hill;<br /> +He fled the persecution of her glory<br /> +And, in a far-off, gentle valley stopping,<br /> +Cried all his story to the dewdrops glistening,<br /> +But naught they heard, for they are always listening,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span>The dewdrops, for the sound of their own dropping.<br /> +And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend,<br /> +Sought once again the shore, and found a shell,<br /> +And thought, <i>I will my heavy story tell<br /> +Till my own words, re-echoing, shall send<br /> +Their sadness through a hollow, pearly heart;<br /> +And my own tale again for me shall sing,<br /> +And my own whispering words be comforting,<br /> +And lo! my ancient burden may depart</i>.<br /> +Then he sang softly nigh the pearly rim;<br /> +But the sad dweller by the sea-ways lone<br /> +Changed all he sang to inarticulate moan<br /> +Among her wildering whirls, forgetting him.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_CLOAK_THE_BOAT_AND_THE_SHOES" id="THE_CLOAK_THE_BOAT_AND_THE_SHOES"></a>THE CLOAK, THE BOAT, AND THE +SHOES</h3> + + +<p> +"What do you make so fair and bright?"<br /> +<br /> +"I make the cloak of Sorrow:<br /> +"O, lovely to see in all men's sight<br /> +"Shall be the cloak of Sorrow,<br /> +"In all men's sight."<br /> +<br /> +"What do you build with sails for flight?"<br /> +<br /> +"I build a boat for Sorrow,<br /> +"O, swift on the seas all day and night<br /> +"Saileth the rover Sorrow,<br /> +"All day and night."<br /> +<br /> +"What do you weave with wool so white?<br /> +<br /> +"I weave the shoes of Sorrow,<br /> +"Soundless shall be the footfall light<br /> +"In all men's ears of Sorrow,<br /> +"Sudden and light."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="ANASHUYA_AND_VIJAYA" id="ANASHUYA_AND_VIJAYA"></a>ANASHUYA AND VIJAYA</h3> + + +<p class="exposition"><i>A little Indian temple in the Golden Age. Around it a +garden; around that the forest.</i> <span class="smcap">ANASHUYA</span>, <i>the young +priestess, kneeling within the temple</i>.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA</p> + +<p class="speech">Send peace on all the lands and flickering corn.—<br /> +O, may tranquillity walk by his elbow<br /> +When wandering in the forest, if he love<br /> +No other.—Hear, and may the indolent flocks<br /> +Be plentiful.—And if he love another,<br /> +May panthers end him.—Hear, and load our king<br /> +With wisdom hour by hour.—May we two stand,<br /> +When we are dead, beyond the setting suns,<br /> +A little from the other shades apart,<br /> +With mingling hair, and play upon one lute.</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA [<i>entering and throwing a lily at her</i>]</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span>Hail! hail, my Anashuya.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">No: be still.</span><br /> +I, priestess of this temple, offer up<br /> +Prayers for the land.</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">I will wait here, Amrita.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA</p> + +<p class="speech">By mighty Brahma's ever rustling robe,<br /> +Who is Amrita? Sorrow of all sorrows!<br /> +Another fills your mind.</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">My mother's name.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA [<i>sings, coming out of the temple</i>]</p> + +<p class="speech"><i>A sad, sad thought went by me slowly:<br /> +Sigh, O you little stars! O, sigh and shake your blue apparel!<br /> +The sad, sad thought has gone from me now wholly:<br /> +Sing, O you little stars! O, sing and raise your rapturous carol<br /> +To mighty Brahma, he who made you many as the sands,<br /> +And laid you on the gates of evening with his quiet hands.</i></p> + +<p class="direction">[<i>Sits down on the steps of the temple.</i>]</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span></p> + +<p class="speech">Vijaya, I have brought my evening rice;<br /> +The sun has laid his chin on the gray wood,<br /> +Weary, with all his poppies gathered round him.</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA</p> + +<p class="speech">The hour when Kama, full of sleepy laughter,<br /> +Rises, and showers abroad his fragrant arrows,<br /> +Piercing the twilight with their murmuring barbs.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA</p> + +<p class="speech">See how the sacred old flamingoes come,<br /> +Painting with shadow all the marble steps:<br /> +Aged and wise, they seek their wonted perches<br /> +Within the temple, devious walking, made<br /> +To wander by their melancholy minds.<br /> +Yon tall one eyes my supper; swiftly chase him<br /> +Far, far away. I named him after you.<br /> +He is a famous fisher; hour by hour<br /> +He ruffles with his bill the minnowed streams.<br /> +Ah! there he snaps my rice. I told you so.<br /> +Now cuff him off. He's off! A kiss for you,<br /> +Because you saved my rice. Have you no thanks?</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA [<i>sings</i>]</p> + +<p class="speech"><i>Sing you of her, O first few stars,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span>Whom Brahma, touching with his finger, praises, for you hold</i><br /> +<i>The van of wandering quiet; ere you be too calm and old,<br /> +Sing, turning in your cars,<br /> +Sing, till you raise your hands and sigh, and from your car heads peer,<br /> +With all your whirling hair, and drop many an azure tear.</i></p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA</p> + +<p class="speech">What know the pilots of the stars of tears?</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA</p> + +<p class="speech">Their faces are all worn, and in their eyes<br /> +Flashes the fire of sadness, for they see<br /> +The icicles that famish all the north,<br /> +Where men lie frozen in the glimmering snow;<br /> +And in the flaming forests cower the lion<br /> +And lioness, with all their whimpering cubs;<br /> +And, ever pacing on the verge of things,<br /> +The phantom, Beauty, in a mist of tears;<br /> +While we alone have round us woven woods,<br /> +And feel the softness of each other's hand,<br /> +Amrita, while——</p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA [<i>going away from him</i>]</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 9em;">Ah me, you love another,</span></p> + +<p class="direction">[<i>Bursting into tears.</i>]</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span>And may some dreadful ill befall her quick!</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA</p> + +<p class="speech">I loved another; now I love no other.<br /> +Among the mouldering of ancient woods<br /> +You live, and on the village border she,<br /> +With her old father the blind wood-cutter;<br /> +I saw her standing in her door but now.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA</p> + +<p class="speech">Vijaya, swear to love her never more,</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA</p> + +<p class="speech">Ay, ay.</p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Swear by the parents of the gods,</span><br /> +Dread oath, who dwell on sacred Himalay,<br /> +On the far Golden Peak; enormous shapes,<br /> +Who still were old when the great sea was young<br /> +On their vast faces mystery and dreams;<br /> +Their hair along the mountains rolled and filled<br /> +From year to year by the unnumbered nests<br /> +Of aweless birds, and round their stirless feet<br /> +The joyous flocks of deer and antelope,<br /> +Who never hear the unforgiving hound.<br /> +Swear!</p> + +<p class="actor">VIJAYA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">By the parents of the gods, I swear.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ANASHUYA [<i>sings</i>]</p> + +<p class="speech"><i>I have forgiven, O new star!<br /> +Maybe you have not heard of us, you have come forth so newly,<br /> +You hunter of the fields afar!<br /> +Ah, you will know my loved one by his hunter's arrows truly,<br /> +Shoot on him shafts of quietness, that he may ever keep<br /> +An inner laughter, and may kiss his hands to me in sleep.</i><br /> +<br /> +Farewell, Vijaya. Nay, no word, no word;<br /> +I, priestess of this temple, offer up<br /> +Prayers for the land.</p> + +<p class="direction">[<span class="smcap">VIJAYA</span> <i>goes</i>.]</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 11em;">O Brahma, guard in sleep</span><br /> +The merry lambs and the complacent kine,<br /> +The flies below the leaves, and the young mice<br /> +In the tree roots, and all the sacred flocks<br /> +Of red flamingo; and my love, Vijaya;<br /> +And may no restless fay with fidget finger<br /> +Trouble his sleeping: give him dreams of me.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_INDIAN_UPON_GOD" id="THE_INDIAN_UPON_GOD"></a>THE INDIAN UPON GOD</h3> + + +<p> +I passed along the water's edge below the humid trees,<br /> +My spirit rocked in evening light, the rushes round my knees,<br /> +My spirit rocked in sleep and sighs; and saw the moorfowl pace<br /> +All dripping on a grassy slope, and saw them cease to chase<br /> +Each other round in circles, and heard the eldest speak:<br /> +<i>Who holds the world between His bill and made us strong or weak<br /> +Is an undying moorfowl, and He lives beyond the sky.<br /> +The rains are from His dripping wing, the moonbeams from His eye.</i><br /> +I passed a little further on and heard a lotus talk:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span><i>Who made the world and ruleth it, He hangeth on a stalk,</i><br /> +<i>For I am in His image made, and all this tinkling tide<br /> +Is but a sliding drop of rain between His petals wide.</i><br /> +A little way within the gloom a roebuck raised his eyes<br /> +Brimful of starlight, and he said: <i>The Stamper of the Skies,<br /> +He is a gentle roebuck; for how else, I pray, could He<br /> +Conceive a thing so sad and soft, a gentle thing like me?</i><br /> +I passed a little further on and heard a peacock say:<br /> +<i>Who made the grass and made the worms and made my feathers gay,<br /> +He is a monstrous peacock, and He waveth all the night<br /> +His languid tail above us, lit with myriad spots of light.</i></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_INDIAN_TO_HIS_LOVE" id="THE_INDIAN_TO_HIS_LOVE"></a>THE INDIAN TO HIS LOVE</h3> + + +<p> +The island dreams under the dawn<br /> +And great boughs drop tranquillity;<br /> +The peahens dance on a smooth lawn,<br /> +A parrot sways upon a tree,<br /> +Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea.<br /> +<br /> +Here we will moor our lonely ship<br /> +And wander ever with woven hands,<br /> +Murmuring softly lip to lip,<br /> +Along the grass, along the sands,<br /> +Murmuring how far away are the unquiet lands:<br /> +<br /> +How we alone of mortals are<br /> +Hid under quiet bows apart,<br /> +While our love grows an Indian star,<br /> +A meteor of the burning heart,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span>One with the tide that gleams, the wings that gleam and dart,<br /> +The heavy boughs, the burnished dove<br /> +That moans and sighs a hundred days:<br /> +How when we die our shades will rove,<br /> +When eve has hushed the feathered ways,<br /> +With vapoury footsole among the water's drowsy blaze.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_FALLING_OF_THE_LEAVES" id="THE_FALLING_OF_THE_LEAVES"></a>THE FALLING OF THE LEAVES</h3> + + +<p> +Autumn is over the long leaves that love us,<br /> +And over the mice in the barley sheaves;<br /> +Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us,<br /> +And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves.<br /> +<br /> +The hour of the waning of love has beset us,<br /> +And weary and worn are our sad souls now;<br /> +Let us part, ere the season of passion forget us,<br /> +With a kiss and a tear on thy drooping brow.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="EPHEMERA" id="EPHEMERA"></a>EPHEMERA</h3> + + +<p> +"Your eyes that once were never weary of mine<br /> +"Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids,<br /> +"Because our love is waning."<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">And then she:</span><br /> +"Although our love is waning, let us stand<br /> +"By the lone border of the lake once more,<br /> +"Together in that hour of gentleness<br /> +"When the poor tired child, Passion, falls asleep:<br /> +"How far away the stars seem, and how far<br /> +"Is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart!"<br /> +<br /> +Pensive they paced along the faded leaves,<br /> +While slowly he whose hand held hers replied:<br /> +"Passion has often worn our wandering hearts."<br /> +<br /> +The woods were round them, and the yellow leaves<br /> +Fell like faint meteors in the gloom, and once<br /> +A rabbit old and lame limped down the path;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span>Autumn was over him: and now they stood<br /> +On the lone border of the lake once more:<br /> +Turning, he saw that she had thrust dead leaves<br /> +Gathered in silence, dewy as her eyes,<br /> +In bosom and hair.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">"Ah, do not mourn," he said,</span><br /> +"That we are tired, for other loves await us;<br /> +"Hate on and love through unrepining hours.<br /> +"Before us lies eternity; our souls<br /> +"Are love, and a continual farewell."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_MADNESS_OF_KING_GOLL" id="THE_MADNESS_OF_KING_GOLL"></a>THE MADNESS OF KING GOLL</h3> + + +<p> +I sat on cushioned otter skin:<br /> +My word was law from Ith to Emen,<br /> +And shook at Invar Amargin<br /> +The hearts of the world-troubling seamen.<br /> +And drove tumult and war away<br /> +From girl and boy and man and beast;<br /> +The fields grew fatter day by day,<br /> +The wild fowl of the air increased;<br /> +And every ancient Ollave said,<br /> +While he bent down his fading head,<br /> +"He drives away the Northern cold."<br /> +<i>They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.</i><br /> +<br /> +I sat and mused and drank sweet wine;<br /> +A herdsman came from inland valleys,<br /> +Crying, the pirates drove his swine<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span>To fill their dark-beaked hollow galleys.<br /> +I called my battle-breaking men,<br /> +And my loud brazen battle-cars<br /> +From rolling vale and rivery glen,<br /> +And under the blinking of the stars<br /> +Fell on the pirates by the deep,<br /> +And hurled them in the gulph of sleep:<br /> +These hands won many a torque of gold.<br /> +<i>They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.</i><br /> +<br /> +But slowly, as I shouting slew<br /> +And trampled in the bubbling mire,<br /> +In my most secret spirit grew<br /> +A whirling and a wandering fire:<br /> +I stood: keen stars above me shone,<br /> +Around me shone keen eyes of men:<br /> +I laughed aloud and hurried on<br /> +By rocky shore and rushy fen;<br /> +I laughed because birds fluttered by,<br /> +And starlight gleamed, and clouds flew high,<br /> +And rushes waved and waters rolled.<br /> +<i>They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.</i><br /> +<br /> +And now I wander in the woods<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span>When summer gluts the golden bees,<br /> +Or in autumnal solitudes<br /> +Arise the leopard-coloured trees;<br /> +Or when along the wintry strands<br /> +The cormorants shiver on their rocks;<br /> +I wander on, and wave my hands,<br /> +And sing, and shake my heavy locks.<br /> +The gray wolf knows me; by one ear<br /> +I lead along the woodland deer;<br /> +The hares run by me growing bold.<br /> +<i>They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.</i><br /> +<br /> +I came upon a little town,<br /> +That slumbered in the harvest moon,<br /> +And passed a-tiptoe up and down,<br /> +Murmuring, to a fitful tune,<br /> +How I have followed, night and day,<br /> +A tramping of tremendous feet,<br /> +And saw where this old tympan lay,<br /> +Deserted on a doorway seat,<br /> +And bore it to the woods with me;<br /> +Of some unhuman misery<br /> +Our married voiced wildly trolled.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span><i>They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.</i><br /> +<br /> +I sang how, when day's toil is done,<br /> +Orchil shakes out her long dark hair<br /> +That hides away the dying sun<br /> +And sheds faint odours through the air:<br /> +When my hand passed from wire to wire<br /> +It quenched, with sound like falling dew,<br /> +The whirling and the wandering fire;<br /> +But lift a mournful ulalu,<br /> +For the kind wires are torn and still,<br /> +And I must wander wood and hill<br /> +Through summer's heat and winter's cold.<br /> +<i>They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.</i></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_STOLEN_CHILD" id="THE_STOLEN_CHILD"></a>THE STOLEN CHILD</h3> + + +<p> +Where dips the rocky highland<br /> +Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,<br /> +There lies a leafy island<br /> +Where flapping herons wake<br /> +The drowsy water rats;<br /> +There we've hid our faery vats,<br /> +Full of berries,<br /> +And of reddest stolen cherries.<br /> +<i>Come away, O human child!<br /> +To the waters and the wild<br /> +With a faery, hand in hand,<br /> +For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.</i><br /> +<br /> +Where the wave of moonlight glosses<br /> +The dim gray sands with light,<br /> +Far off by furthest Rosses<br /> +We foot it all the night,<br /> +Weaving olden dances,<br /> +Mingling hands and mingling glances<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span>Till the moon has taken flight;<br /> +To and fro we leap<br /> +And chase the frothy bubbles,<br /> +While the world is full of troubles<br /> +And is anxious in its sleep.<br /> +<i>Come away, O human child!<br /> +To the waters and the wild<br /> +With a faery, hand in hand,<br /> +For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.</i><br /> +<br /> +Where the wandering water gushes<br /> +From the hills above Glen-Car,<br /> +In pools among the rushes<br /> +That scarce could bathe a star,<br /> +We seek for slumbering trout<br /> +And whispering in their ears<br /> +Give them unquiet dreams;<br /> +Leaning softly out<br /> +From ferns that drop their tears<br /> +Over the young streams,<br /> +<i>Come away, O human child!<br /> +To the waters and the wild<br /> +With a faery, hand in hand,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span>For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.</i><br /> +<br /> +Away with us he's going,<br /> +The solemn-eyed:<br /> +He'll hear no more the lowing<br /> +Of the calves on the warm hillside<br /> +Or the kettle on the hob<br /> +Sing peace into his breast,<br /> +Or see the brown mice bob<br /> +Round and round the oatmeal-chest.<br /> +<i>For he comes, the human child,<br /> +To the waters and the wild<br /> +With a faery, hand in hand,<br /> +From a world more full of weeping than he can understand.</i></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="TO_AN_ISLE_IN_THE_WATER" id="TO_AN_ISLE_IN_THE_WATER"></a>TO AN ISLE IN THE WATER</h3> + + +<p> +Shy one, shy one,<br /> +Shy one of my heart,<br /> +She moves in the firelight<br /> +Pensively apart.<br /> +<br /> +She carries in the dishes,<br /> +And lays them in a row.<br /> +To an isle in the water<br /> +With her would I go.<br /> +<br /> +She carries in the candles,<br /> +And lights the curtained room,<br /> +Shy in the doorway<br /> +And shy in the gloom;<br /> +<br /> +And shy as a rabbit,<br /> +Helpful and shy.<br /> +To an isle in the water<br /> +With her would I fly.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="DOWN_BY_THE_SALLEY_GARDENS" id="DOWN_BY_THE_SALLEY_GARDENS"></a>DOWN BY THE SALLEY GARDENS</h3> + + +<p> +Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet;<br /> +She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet.<br /> +She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree;<br /> +But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.<br /> +<br /> +In a field by the river my love and I did stand,<br /> +And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand.<br /> +She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs;<br /> +But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_MEDITATION_OF_THE_OLD_FISHERMAN" id="THE_MEDITATION_OF_THE_OLD_FISHERMAN"></a>THE MEDITATION OF THE OLD +FISHERMAN</h3> + + +<p> +You waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play,<br /> +Though you glow and you glance, though you purr and you dart;<br /> +In the Junes that were warmer than these are, the waves were more gay,<br /> +<i>When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart</i>.<br /> +<br /> +The herring are not in the tides as they were of old;<br /> +My sorrow! for many a creak gave the creel in the cart<br /> +That carried the take to Sligo town to be sold,<br /> +<i>When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart</i>.<br /> +<br /> +And ah, you proud maiden, you are not so fair when his oar<br /> +Is heard on the water, as they were, the proud and apart,<br /> +Who paced in the eve by the nets on the pebbly shore,<br /> +<i>When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart</i>.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_BALLAD_OF_FATHER_OHART" id="THE_BALLAD_OF_FATHER_OHART"></a>THE BALLAD OF FATHER O'HART</h3> + + +<p> +Good Father John O'Hart<br /> +In penal days rode out<br /> +To a shoneen who had free lands<br /> +And his own snipe and trout.<br /> +<br /> +In trust took he John's lands;<br /> +Sleiveens were all his race;<br /> +And he gave them as dowers to his daughters,<br /> +And they married beyond their place.<br /> +<br /> +But Father John went up,<br /> +And Father John went down;<br /> +And he wore small holes in his shoes,<br /> +And he wore large holes in his gown.<br /> +<br /> +All loved him, only the shoneen,<br /> +Whom the devils have by the hair,<br /> +From the wives, and the cats, and the children,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span>To the birds in the white of the air.<br /> +<br /> +The birds, for he opened their cages<br /> +As he went up and down;<br /> +And he said with a smile, "Have peace now";<br /> +And he went his way with a frown.<br /> +<br /> +But if when any one died<br /> +Came keeners hoarser than rooks,<br /> +He bade them give over their keening;<br /> +For he was a man of books.<br /> +<br /> +And these were the works of John,<br /> +When weeping score by score,<br /> +People came into Coloony;<br /> +For he'd died at ninety-four.<br /> +<br /> +There was no human keening;<br /> +The birds from Knocknarea<br /> +And the world round Knocknashee<br /> +Came keening in that day.<br /> +<br /> +The young birds and old birds<br /> +Came flying, heavy and sad;<br /> +Keening in from Tiraragh,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span>Keening from Ballinafad;<br /> +<br /> +Keening from Inishmurray,<br /> +Nor stayed for bite or sup;<br /> +This way were all reproved<br /> +Who dig old customs up.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_BALLAD_OF_MOLL_MAGEE" id="THE_BALLAD_OF_MOLL_MAGEE"></a>THE BALLAD OF MOLL MAGEE</h3> + + +<p> +Come round me, little childer;<br /> +There, don't fling stones at me<br /> +Because I mutter as I go;<br /> +But pity Moll Magee.<br /> +<br /> +My man was a poor fisher<br /> +With shore lines in the say;<br /> +My work was saltin' herrings<br /> +The whole of the long day.<br /> +<br /> +And sometimes from the saltin' shed,<br /> +I scarce could drag my feet<br /> +Under the blessed moonlight,<br /> +Along the pebbly street.<br /> +<br /> +I'd always been but weakly,<br /> +And my baby was just born;<br /> +A neighbour minded her by day<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span>I minded her till morn.<br /> +<br /> +I lay upon my baby;<br /> +Ye little childer dear,<br /> +I looked on my cold baby<br /> +When the morn grew frosty and clear.<br /> +<br /> +A weary woman sleeps so hard!<br /> +My man grew red and pale,<br /> +And gave me money, and bade me go<br /> +To my own place, Kinsale.<br /> +<br /> +He drove me out and shut the door,<br /> +And gave his curse to me;<br /> +I went away in silence,<br /> +No neighbour could I see.<br /> +<br /> +The windows and the doors were shut,<br /> +One star shone faint and green<br /> +The little straws were turnin' round<br /> +Across the bare boreen.<br /> +<br /> +I went away in silence:<br /> +Beyond old Martin's byre<br /> +I saw a kindly neighbour<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span>Blowin' her mornin' fire.<br /> +<br /> +She drew from me my story—<br /> +My money's all used up,<br /> +And still, with pityin', scornin' eye,<br /> +She gives me bite and sup.<br /> +<br /> +She says my man will surely come,<br /> +And fetch me home agin;<br /> +But always, as I'm movin' round,<br /> +Without doors or within,<br /> +<br /> +Pilin' the wood or pilin' the turf,<br /> +Or goin' to the well,<br /> +I'm thinkin' of my baby<br /> +And keenin' to mysel'.<br /> +<br /> +And sometimes I am sure she knows<br /> +When, openin' wide His door,<br /> +God lights the stars, His candles,<br /> +And looks upon the poor.<br /> +<br /> +So now, ye little childer,<br /> +Ye won't fling stones at me;<br /> +But gather with your shinin' looks<br /> +And pity Moll Magee.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="THE_BALLAD_OF_THE_FOXHUNTER" id="THE_BALLAD_OF_THE_FOXHUNTER"></a>THE BALLAD OF THE FOXHUNTER</h3> + + +<p> +"Now lay me in a cushioned chair<br /> +"And carry me, you four,<br /> +"With cushions here and cushions there,<br /> +"To see the world once more.<br /> +<br /> +"And some one from the stables bring<br /> +"My Dermot dear and brown,<br /> +"And lead him gently in a ring,<br /> +"And gently up and down.<br /> +<br /> +"Now leave the chair upon the grass:<br /> +"Bring hound and huntsman here,<br /> +"And I on this strange road will pass,<br /> +"Filled full of ancient cheer."<br /> +<br /> +His eyelids droop, his head falls low,<br /> +His old eyes cloud with dreams;<br /> +The sun upon all things that grow<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span>Pours round in sleepy streams.<br /> +<br /> +Brown Dermot treads upon the lawn,<br /> +And to the armchair goes,<br /> +And now the old man's dreams are gone,<br /> +He smooths the long brown nose.<br /> +<br /> +And now moves many a pleasant tongue<br /> +Upon his wasted hands,<br /> +For leading aged hounds and young<br /> +The huntsman near him stands.<br /> +<br /> +"My huntsman, Rody, blow the horn,<br /> +"And make the hills reply."<br /> +The huntsman loosens on the morn<br /> +A gay and wandering cry.<br /> +<br /> +A fire is in the old man's eyes,<br /> +His fingers move and sway,<br /> +And when the wandering music dies<br /> +They hear him feebly say,<br /> +<br /> +"My huntsman, Rody, blow the horn,<br /> +"And make the hills reply."<br /> +"I cannot blow upon my horn,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span>"I can but weep and sigh."<br /> +<br /> +The servants round his cushioned place<br /> +Are with new sorrow wrung;<br /> +And hounds are gazing on his face,<br /> +Both aged hounds and young.<br /> +<br /> +One blind hound only lies apart<br /> +On the sun-smitten grass;<br /> +He holds deep commune with his heart:<br /> +The moments pass and pass;<br /> +<br /> +The blind hound with a mournful din<br /> +Lifts slow his wintry head;<br /> +The servants bear the body in;<br /> +The hounds wail for the dead.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a></span></p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a></span></p> +<h2 class="p6"><a name="THE_WANDERINGS_OF_USHEEN" id="THE_WANDERINGS_OF_USHEEN"></a>THE WANDERINGS OF USHEEN</h2> + + +<p class="center p6">"<i>Give me the world if Thou wilt, but grant me an asylum +for my affections.</i>"</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Tulka.</span></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237"></a></span></p> + +<p class="center p6"><span class="smcap">To</span><br /> +EDWIN J. ELLIS</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238"></a><br /><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239"></a></span></p> + + +<h3>BOOK I</h3><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240"></a><br /><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span></p> + + +<p class="actor">S. PATRIC</p> + +<p class="speech">You who are bent, and bald, and blind,<br /> +With a heavy heart and a wandering mind,<br /> +Have known three centuries, poets sing,<br /> +Of dalliance with a demon thing.</p> + +<p class="actor">USHEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Sad to remember, sick with years,<br /> +The swift innumerable spears,<br /> +The horsemen with their floating hair,<br /> +And bowls of barley, honey, and wine,<br /> +And feet of maidens dancing in tune,<br /> +And the white body that lay by mine;<br /> +But the tale, though words be lighter than air,<br /> +Must live to be old like the wandering moon.<br /> +<br /> +Caolte, and Conan, and Finn were there,<br /> +When we followed a deer with our baying hounds,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span>With Bran, Sgeolan, and Lomair,<br /> +And passing the Firbolgs' burial mounds,<br /> +Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill<br /> +Where passionate Maive is stony still;<br /> +And found on the dove-gray edge of the sea<br /> +A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode<br /> +On a horse with bridle of findrinny;<br /> +And like a sunset were her lips,<br /> +A stormy sunset on doomed ships;<br /> +A citron colour gloomed in her hair,<br /> +But down to her feet white vesture flowed,<br /> +And with the glimmering crimson glowed<br /> +Of many a figured embroidery;<br /> +And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell<br /> +That wavered like the summer streams,<br /> +As her soft bosom rose and fell.</p> + +<p class="actor">S. PATRIC</p> + +<p class="speech">You are still wrecked among heathen dreams.</p> + +<p class="actor">USHEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">"Why do you wind no horn?" she said.<br /> +"And every hero droop his head?<br /> +"The hornless deer is not more sad<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span>"That many a peaceful moment had,<br /> +"More sleek than any granary mouse,<br /> +"In his own leafy forest house<br /> +"Among the waving fields of fern:<br /> +"The hunting of heroes should be glad."<br /> +<br /> +"O pleasant woman," answered Finn,<br /> +"We think on Oscar's pencilled urn,<br /> +"And on the heroes lying slain,<br /> +On Gavra's raven-covered plain;<br /> +"But where are your noble kith and kin,<br /> +"And from what country do you ride?"<br /> +<br /> +"My father and my mother are<br /> +"Aengus and Adene, my own name<br /> +"Niam, and my country far<br /> +"Beyond the tumbling of this tide."<br /> +<br /> +"What dream came with you that you came<br /> +"Through bitter tide on foam wet feet?<br /> +"Did your companion wander away<br /> +"From where the birds of Aengus wing?"<br /> +<br /> +She said, with laughter tender and sweet:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span>"I have not yet, war-weary king,<br /> +"Been spoken of with any one;<br /> +"Yet now I choose, for these four feet<br /> +"Ran through the foam and ran to this<br /> +"That I might have your son to kiss."<br /> +<br /> +"Were there no better than my son<br /> +"That you through all that foam should run?"<br /> +<br /> +"I loved no man, though kings besought<br /> +"Love, till the Danaan poets brought<br /> +"Rhyme, that rhymed to Usheen's name,<br /> +"And now I am dizzy with the thought<br /> +"Of all that wisdom and the fame<br /> +"Of battles broken by his hands,<br /> +"Of stories builded by his words<br /> +"That are like coloured Asian birds<br /> +"At evening in their rainless lands."<br /> +<br /> +O Patric, by your brazen bell,<br /> +There was no limb of mine but fell<br /> +Into a desperate gulph of love!<br /> +"You only will I wed," I cried,<br /> +"And I will make a thousand songs,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span>"And set your name all names above.<br /> +"And captives bound with leathern thongs<br /> +"Shall kneel and praise you, one by one,<br /> +"At evening in my western dun."<br /> +<br /> +"O Usheen, mount by me and ride<br /> +"To shores by the wash of the tremulous tide,<br /> +"Where men have heaped no burial mounds,<br /> +"And the days pass by like a wayward tune,<br /> +"Where broken faith has never been known,<br /> +"And the blushes of first love never have flown;<br /> +"And there I will give you a hundred hounds;<br /> +"No mightier creatures bay at the moon;<br /> +"And a hundred robes of murmuring silk,<br /> +"And a hundred calves and a hundred sheep<br /> +"Whose long wool whiter than sea froth flows,<br /> +"And a hundred spears and a hundred bows,<br /> +"And oil and wine and honey and milk,<br /> +"And always never-anxious sleep;<br /> +"While a hundred youths, mighty of limb,<br /> +"But knowing nor tumult nor hate nor strife,<br /> +"And a hundred maidens, merry as birds,<br /> +"Who when they dance to a fitful measure<br /> +"Have a speed like the speed of the salmon herds,<br /> +"Shall follow your horn and obey your whim,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span>"And you shall know the Danaan leisure:<br /> +"And Niam be with you for a wife."<br /> +Then she sighed gently, "It grows late,<br /> +"Music and love and sleep await,<br /> +"Where I would be when the white moon climbs<br /> +"The red sun falls, and the world grows dim."<br /> +<br /> +And then I mounted and she bound me<br /> +With her triumphing arms around me,<br /> +And whispering to herself enwound me;<br /> +But when the horse had felt my weight,<br /> +He shook himself and neighed three times:<br /> +Caolte, Conan, and Finn came near,<br /> +And wept, and raised their lamenting hands,<br /> +And bid me stay, with many a tear;<br /> +But we rode out from the human lands.<br /> +<br /> +In what far kingdom do you go,<br /> +Ah, Fenians, with the shield and bow?<br /> +Or are you phantoms white as snow,<br /> +Whose lips had life's most prosperous glow?<br /> +O you, with whom in sloping valleys,<br /> +Or down the dewy forest alleys,<br /> +I chased at morn the flying deer,<br /> +With whom I hurled the hurrying spear,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span>And heard the foemen's bucklers rattle,<br /> +And broke the heaving ranks of battle!<br /> +And Bran, Sgeolan, and Lomair,<br /> +Where are you with your long rough hair?<br /> +You go not where the red deer feeds,<br /> +Nor tear the foemen from their steeds.</p> + +<p class="actor">S. PATRIC</p> + +<p class="speech">Boast not, nor mourn with drooping head<br /> +Companions long accurst and dead,<br /> +And hounds for centuries dust and air.</p> + +<p class="actor">USHEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">We galloped over the glossy sea:<br /> +I know not if days passed or hours,<br /> +And Niam sang continually<br /> +Danaan songs, and their dewy showers<br /> +Of pensive laughter, unhuman sound,<br /> +Lulled weariness, and softly round<br /> +My human sorrow her white arms wound.<br /> +<br /> +We galloped; now a hornless deer<br /> +Passed by us, chased by a phantom hound<br /> +All pearly white, save one red ear;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span>And now a maiden rode like the wind<br /> +With an apple of gold in her tossing hand;<br /> +And a beautiful young man followed behind<br /> +With quenchless gaze and fluttering hair.<br /> +<br /> +"Were these two born in the Danaan land,<br /> +"Or have they breathed the mortal air?"<br /> +<br /> +"Vex them no longer," Niam said,<br /> +And sighing bowed her gentle head,<br /> +And sighing laid the pearly tip<br /> +Of one long finger on my lip.<br /> +<br /> +But now the moon like a white rose shone<br /> +In the pale west, and the sun's rim sank,<br /> +And clouds arrayed their rank on rank<br /> +About his fading crimson ball:<br /> +The floor of Emen's hosting hall<br /> +Was not more level than the sea,<br /> +As full of loving phantasy,<br /> +And with low murmurs we rode on,<br /> +Where many a trumpet-twisted shell<br /> +That in immortal silence sleeps<br /> +Dreaming of her own melting hues,<br /> +Her golds, her ambers, and her blues,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span>Pierced with soft light the shallowing deeps.<br /> +<br /> +But now a wandering land breeze came<br /> +And a far sound of feathery quires;<br /> +It seemed to blow from the dying flame,<br /> +They seemed to sing in the smouldering fires.<br /> +The horse towards the music raced,<br /> +Neighing along the lifeless waste;<br /> +Like sooty fingers, many a tree<br /> +Rose ever out of the warm sea;<br /> +And they were trembling ceaselessly,<br /> +As though they all were beating time,<br /> +Upon the centre of the sun,<br /> +To that low laughing woodland rhyme.<br /> +And, now our wandering hours were done,<br /> +We cantered to the shore, and knew<br /> +The reason of the trembling trees:<br /> +Round every branch the song-birds flew,<br /> +Or clung thereon like swarming bees;<br /> +While round the shore a million stood<br /> +Like drops of frozen rainbow light,<br /> +And pondered in a soft vain mood<br /> +Upon their shadows in the tide,<br /> +And told the purple deeps their pride,<br /> +And murmured snatches of delight;<br /> +And on the shores were many boats<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span>With bending sterns and bending bows.<br /> +<br /> +And carven figures on their prows<br /> +Of bitterns, and fish-eating stoats,<br /> +And swans with their exultant throats:<br /> +And where the wood and waters meet<br /> +We tied the horse in a leafy clump,<br /> +And Niam blew three merry notes<br /> +Out of a little silver trump;<br /> +And then an answering whispering flew<br /> +Over the bare and woody land,<br /> +A whisper of impetuous feet,<br /> +And ever nearer, nearer grew;<br /> +And from the woods rushed out a band<br /> +Of men and maidens, hand in hand,<br /> +And singing, singing altogether;<br /> +Their brows were white as fragrant milk,<br /> +Their cloaks made out of yellow silk,<br /> +And trimmed with many a crimson feather:<br /> +And when they saw the cloak I wore<br /> +Was dim with mire of a mortal shore,<br /> +They fingered it and gazed on me<br /> +And laughed like murmurs of the sea;<br /> +But Niam with a swift distress<br /> +Bid them away and hold their peace;<br /> +And when they heard her voice they ran<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span>And knelt them, every maid and man<br /> +And kissed, as they would never cease,<br /> +Her pearl-pale hand and the hem of her dress.<br /> +She bade them bring us to the hall<br /> +Where Aengus dreams, from sun to sun,<br /> +A Druid dream of the end of days<br /> +When the stars are to wane and the world be done.<br /> +<br /> +They led us by long and shadowy ways<br /> +Where drops of dew in myriads fall,<br /> +And tangled creepers every hour<br /> +Blossom in some new crimson flower,<br /> +And once a sudden laughter sprang<br /> +From all their lips, and once they sang<br /> +Together, while the dark woods rang,<br /> +And made in all their distant parts,<br /> +With boom of bees in honey marts,<br /> +A rumour of delighted hearts.<br /> +And once a maiden by my side<br /> +Gave me a harp, and bid me sing,<br /> +And touch the laughing silver string;<br /> +But when I sang of human joy<br /> +A sorrow wrapped each merry face,<br /> +And, Patric! by your beard, they wept,<br /> +Until one came, a tearful boy;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span>"A sadder creature never stept<br /> +"Than this strange human bard," he cried;<br /> +And caught the silver harp away,<br /> +And, weeping over the white strings, hurled<br /> +It down in a leaf-hid, hollow place<br /> +That kept dim waters from the sky;<br /> +And each one said, with a long, long sigh,<br /> +"O saddest harp in all the world,<br /> +"Sleep there till the moon and the stars die!"<br /> +<br /> +And now still sad we came to where<br /> +A beautiful young man dreamed within<br /> +A house of wattles, clay, and skin;<br /> +One hand upheld his beardless chin,<br /> +And one a sceptre flashing out<br /> +Wild flames of red and gold and blue,<br /> +Like to a merry wandering rout<br /> +Of dancers leaping in the air;<br /> +And men and maidens knelt them there<br /> +And showed their eyes with teardrops dim,<br /> +And with low murmurs prayed to him,<br /> +And kissed the sceptre with red lips,<br /> +And touched it with their finger-tips.<br /> +<br /> +He held that flashing sceptre up.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span>"Joy drowns the twilight in the dew,<br /> +"And fills with stars night's purple cup,<br /> +"And wakes the sluggard seeds of corn,<br /> +"And stirs the young kid's budding horn.<br /> +"And makes the infant ferns unwrap,<br /> +"And for the peewit paints his cap,<br /> +"And rolls along the unwieldy sun,<br /> +"And makes the little planets run:<br /> +"And if joy were not on the earth,<br /> +"There were an end of change and birth,<br /> +"And earth and heaven and hell would die,<br /> +"And in some gloomy barrow lie<br /> +"Folded like a frozen fly;<br /> +"Then mock at Death and Time with glances<br /> +"And wavering arms and wandering dances.<br /> +<br /> +"Men's hearts of old were drops of flame<br /> +"That from the saffron morning came,<br /> +"Or drops of silver joy that fell<br /> +"Out of the moon's pale twisted shell;<br /> +"But now hearts cry that hearts are slaves,<br /> +"And toss and turn in narrow caves;<br /> +"But here there is nor law nor rule,<br /> +"Nor have hands held a weary tool;<br /> +"And here there is nor Change nor Death,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span>"But only kind and merry breath,<br /> +"For joy is God and God is joy."<br /> +With one long glance on maid and boy<br /> +And the pale blossom of the moon,<br /> +He fell into a Druid swoon.<br /> +<br /> +And in a wild and sudden dance<br /> +We mocked at Time and Fate and Chance<br /> +And swept out of the wattled hall<br /> +And came to where the dewdrops fall<br /> +Among the foamdrops of the sea,<br /> +And there we hushed the revelry;<br /> +And, gathering on our brows a frown,<br /> +Bent all our swaying bodies down,<br /> +And to the waves that glimmer by<br /> +That sloping green De Danaan sod<br /> +Sang "God is joy and joy is God.<br /> +"And things that have grown sad are wicked,<br /> +"And things that fear the dawn of the morrow<br /> +"Or the gray wandering osprey Sorrow."<br /> +<br /> +We danced to where in the winding thicket<br /> +The damask roses, bloom on bloom,<br /> +Like crimson meteors hang in the gloom,<br /> +And bending over them softly said,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span>Bending over them in the dance,<br /> +With a swift and friendly glance<br /> +From dewy eyes: "Upon the dead<br /> +"Fall the leaves of other roses,<br /> +"On the dead dim earth encloses:<br /> +"But never, never on our graves,<br /> +"Heaped beside the glimmering waves,<br /> +"Shall fall the leaves of damask roses.<br /> +"For neither Death nor Change comes near us,<br /> +"And all listless hours fear us,<br /> +"And we fear no dawning morrow,<br /> +"Nor the gray wandering osprey Sorrow."<br /> +<br /> +The dance wound through the windless woods;<br /> +The ever-summered solitudes;<br /> +Until the tossing arms grew still<br /> +Upon the woody central hill;<br /> +And, gathered in a panting band,<br /> +We flung on high each waving hand,<br /> +And sang unto the starry broods:<br /> +In our raised eyes there flashed a glow<br /> +Of milky brightness to and fro<br /> +As thus our song arose: "You stars,<br /> +"Across your wandering ruby cars<br /> +"Shake the loose reins: you slaves of God<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span>"He rules you with an iron rod,<br /> +"He holds you with an iron bond,<br /> +"Each one woven to the other,<br /> +"Each one woven to his brother<br /> +"Like bubbles in a frozen pond;<br /> +"But we in a lonely land abide<br /> +"Unchainable as the dim tide,<br /> +"With hearts that know nor law nor rule,<br /> +"And hands that hold no wearisome tool<br /> +"Folded in love that fears no morrow,<br /> +"Nor the gray wandering osprey Sorrow."<br /> +<br /> +O Patric! for a hundred years<br /> +I chased upon that woody shore<br /> +The deer, the badger, and the boar.<br /> +O Patric! for a hundred years<br /> +At evening on the glimmering sands,<br /> +Beside the piled-up hunting spears,<br /> +These now outworn and withered hands<br /> +Wrestled among the island bands.<br /> +O Patric! for a hundred years<br /> +We went a-fishing in long boats<br /> +With bending sterns and bending bows,<br /> +And carven figures on their prows<br /> +Of bitterns and fish-eating stoats.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span>O Patric! for a hundred years<br /> +The gentle Niam was my wife;<br /> +But now two things devour my life;<br /> +The things that most of all I hate;<br /> +Fasting and prayers.</p> + +<p class="actor">S. PATRIC</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10em;">Tell on.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">USHEEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Yes, yes,</span><br /> +For these were ancient Usheen's fate<br /> +Loosed long ago from heaven's gate,<br /> +For his last days to lie in wait.<br /> +<br /> +When one day by the tide I stood,<br /> +I found in that forgetfulness<br /> +Of dreamy foam a staff of wood<br /> +From some dead warrior's broken lance:<br /> +I turned it in my hands; the stains<br /> +Of war were on it, and I wept,<br /> +Remembering how the Fenians stept<br /> +Along the blood-bedabbled plains,<br /> +Equal to good or grievous chance:<br /> +Thereon young Niam softly came<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span>And caught my hands, but spake no word<br /> +Save only many times my name,<br /> +In murmurs, like a frighted bird.<br /> +We passed by woods, and lawns of clover,<br /> +And found the horse and bridled him,<br /> +For we knew well the old was over.<br /> +I heard one say "His eyes grow dim<br /> +"With all the ancient sorrow of men";<br /> +And wrapped in dreams rode out again<br /> +With hoofs of the pale findrinny<br /> +Over the glimmering purple sea:<br /> +Under the golden evening light.<br /> +The immortals moved among the fountains<br /> +By rivers and the woods' old night;<br /> +Some danced like shadows on the mountains,<br /> +Some wandered ever hand in hand,<br /> +Or sat in dreams on the pale strand;<br /> +Each forehead like an obscure star<br /> +Bent down above each hooked knee:<br /> +And sang, and with a dreamy gaze<br /> +Watched where the sun in a saffron blaze<br /> +Was slumbering half in the sea ways;<br /> +And, as they sang, the painted birds<br /> +Kept time with their bright wings and feet;<br /> +Like drops of honey came their words,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span>But fainter than a young lamb's bleat.<br /> +<br /> +"An old man stirs the fire to a blaze,<br /> +"In the house of a child, of a friend, of a brother<br /> +"He has over-lingered his welcome; the days,<br /> +"Grown desolate, whisper and sigh to each other;<br /> +"He hears the storm in the chimney above,<br /> +"And bends to the fire and shakes with the cold,<br /> +"While his heart still dreams of battle and love,<br /> +"And the cry of the hounds on the hills of old.<br /> +<br /> +"But we are apart in the grassy places,<br /> +"Where care cannot trouble the least of our days,<br /> +"Or the softness of youth be gone from our faces,<br /> +"Or love's first tenderness die in our gaze.<br /> +"The hare grows old as she plays in the sun<br /> +"And gazes around her with eyes of brightness;<br /> +"Before the swift things that she dreamed of were done<br /> +"She limps along in an aged whiteness;<br /> +"A storm of birds in the Asian trees<br /> +"Like tulips in the air a-winging,<br /> +"And the gentle waves of the summer seas,<br /> +"That raise their heads and wander singing.<br /> +"Must murmur at last 'Unjust, unjust';<br /> +"And 'My speed is a weariness,' falters the mouse<br /> +"And the kingfisher turns to a ball of dust,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span>"And the roof falls in of his tunnelled house.<br /> +<br /> +"But the love-dew dims our eyes till the day<br /> +"When God shall come from the sea with a sigh<br /> +"And bid the stars drop down from the sky,<br /> +"And the moon like a pale rose wither away."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a></span></p> + + +<h3 class="p6">BOOK II</h3><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a><br /><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span></p> + + +<p> +Now, man of croziers, shadows called our names<br /> +And then away, away, like whirling flames;<br /> +And now fled by, mist-covered, without sound,<br /> +The youth and lady and the deer and hound;<br /> +"Gaze no more on the phantoms," Niam said,<br /> +And kissed my eyes, and, swaying her bright head<br /> +And her bright body, sang of faery and man<br /> +Before God was or my old line began;<br /> +Wars shadowy, vast, exultant; faeries of old<br /> +Who wedded men with rings of Druid gold;<br /> +And how those lovers never turn their eyes<br /> +Upon the life that fades and flickers and dies,<br /> +But love and kiss on dim shores far away<br /> +Rolled round with music of the sighing spray:<br /> +But sang no more, as when, like a brown bee<br /> +That has drunk full, she crossed the misty sea<br /> +With me in her white arms a hundred years<br /> +Before this day; for now the fall of tears<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span>Troubled her song.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">I do not know if days</span><br /> +Or hours passed by, yet hold the morning rays<br /> +Shone many times among the glimmering flowers<br /> +Woven into her hair, before dark towers<br /> +Rose in the darkness, and the white surf gleamed<br /> +About them; and the horse of faery screamed<br /> +And shivered, knowing the Isle of many Fears,<br /> +Nor ceased until white Niam stroked his ears<br /> +And named him by sweet names.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">A foaming tide</span><br /> +Whitened afar with surge, fan-formed and wide,<br /> +Burst from a great door marred by many a blow<br /> +From mace and sword and pole-axe, long ago<br /> +When gods and giants warred. We rode between<br /> +The seaweed-covered pillars, and the green<br /> +And surging phosphorus alone gave light<br /> +On our dark pathway, till a countless flight<br /> +Of moonlit steps glimmered; and left and right<br /> +Dark statues glimmered over the pale tide<br /> +Upon dark thrones. Between the lids of one<br /> +The imaged meteors had flashed and run<br /> +And had disported in the stilly jet,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span>And the fixed stars had dawned and shone and set,<br /> +Since God made Time and Death and Sleep: the other<br /> +Stretched his long arm to where, a misty smother,<br /> +The stream churned, churned, and churned—his lips apart,<br /> +As though he told his never slumbering heart<br /> +Of every foamdrop on its misty way:<br /> +Tying the horse to his vast foot that lay<br /> +Half in the unvesselled sea, we climbed the stairs<br /> +And climbed so long, I thought the last steps were<br /> +Hung from the morning star; when these mild words<br /> +Fanned the delighted air like wings of birds:<br /> +"My brothers spring out of their beds at morn,<br /> +"A-murmur like young partridge: with loud horn<br /> +"They chase the noontide deer;<br /> +"And when the dew-drowned stars hang in the air<br /> +"Look to long fishing-lines, or point and pare<br /> +"An ash-wood hunting spear.<br /> +<br /> +"O sigh, O fluttering sigh, be kind to me;<br /> +"Flutter along the froth lips of the sea,<br /> +"And shores, the froth lips wet:<br /> +"And stay a little while, and bid them weep:<br /> +"Ah, touch their blue-veined eyelids if they sleep,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span>"And shake their coverlet.<br /> +<br /> +"When you have told how I weep endlessly,<br /> +"Flutter along the froth lips of the sea<br /> +"And home to me again,<br /> +"And in the shadow of my hair lie hid,<br /> +"And tell me how you came to one unbid,<br /> +"The saddest of all men."<br /> +<br /> +A maiden with soft eyes like funeral tapers,<br /> +And face that seemed wrought out of moonlit vapours,<br /> +And a sad mouth, that fear made tremulous<br /> +As any ruddy moth, looked down on us;<br /> +And she with a wave-rusted chain was tied<br /> +To two old eagles, full of ancient pride,<br /> +That with dim eyeballs stood on either side.<br /> +Few feathers were on their dishevelled wings,<br /> +For their dim minds were with the ancient things.<br /> +<br /> +"I bring deliverance," pearl-pale Niam said.<br /> +<br /> +"Neither the living, nor the unlabouring dead,<br /> +"Nor the high gods who never lived, may fight<br /> +"My enemy and hope; demons for fright<br /> +"Jabber and scream about him in the night;<br /> +"For he is strong and crafty as the seas<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span>"That sprang under the Seven Hazel Trees,<br /> +"And I must needs endure and hate and weep,<br /> +"Until the gods and demons drop asleep,<br /> +"Hearing Aed touch the mournful strings of gold."<br /> +<br /> +"Is he so dreadful?"<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">"Be not over bold,</span><br /> +"But flee while you may flee from him."<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 19.5em;">Then I:</span><br /> +"This demon shall be pierced and drop and die,<br /> +"And his loose bulk be thrown in the loud tide."<br /> +<br /> +"Flee from him," pearl-pale Niam weeping cried,<br /> +"For all men flee the demons"; but moved not<br /> +My angry, king remembering soul one jot;<br /> +There was no mightier soul of Heber's line;<br /> +Now it is old and mouse-like: for a sign<br /> +I burst the chain: still earless, nerveless, blind,<br /> +Wrapped in the things of the unhuman mind,<br /> +In some dim memory or ancient mood<br /> +Still earless, nerveless, blind, the eagles stood.<br /> +<br /> +And then we climbed the stair to a high door;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span>A hundred horsemen on the basalt floor<br /> +Beneath had paced content: we held our way<br /> +And stood within: clothed in a misty ray<br /> +I saw a foam-white seagull drift and float<br /> +Under the roof, and with a straining throat<br /> +Shouted, and hailed him: he hung there a star,<br /> +For no man's cry shall ever mount so far;<br /> +Not even your God could have thrown down that hall;<br /> +Stabling His unloosed lightnings in their stall,<br /> +He had sat down and sighed with cumbered heart,<br /> +As though His hour were come.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">We sought the part</span><br /> +That was most distant from the door; green slime<br /> +Made the way slippery, and time on time<br /> +Showed prints of sea-born scales, while down through it<br /> +The captive's journeys to and fro were writ<br /> +Like a small river, and, where feet touched, came<br /> +A momentary gleam of phosphorus flame.<br /> +Under the deepest shadows of the hall<br /> +That maiden found a ring hung on the wall,<br /> +And in the ring a torch, and with its flare<br /> +Making a world about her in the air,<br /> +Passed under a dim doorway, out of sight<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span>And came again, holding a second light<br /> +Burning between her fingers, and in mine<br /> +Laid it and sighed: I held a sword whose shine<br /> +No centuries could dim: and a word ran<br /> +Thereon in Ogham letters, "Mananan";<br /> +That sea god's name, who in a deep content<br /> +Sprang dripping, and, with captive demons sent<br /> +Out of the seven-fold seas, built the dark hall<br /> +Rooted in foam and clouds, and cried to all<br /> +The mightier masters of a mightier race;<br /> +And at his cry there came no milk-pale face<br /> +Under a crown of thorns and dark with blood,<br /> +But only exultant faces.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Niam stood</span><br /> +With bowed head, trembling when the white blade shone,<br /> +But she whose hours of tenderness were gone<br /> +Had neither hope nor fear. I bade them hide<br /> +Under the shadows till the tumults died<br /> +Of the loud crashing and earth shaking fight,<br /> +Lest they should look upon some dreadful sight;<br /> +And thrust the torch between the slimy flags.<br /> +A dome made out of endless carven jags,<br /> +Where shadowy face flowed into shadowy face,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span>Looked down on me; and in the self-same place<br /> +I waited hour by hour, and the high dome,<br /> +Windowless, pillarless, multitudinous home<br /> +Of faces, waited; and the leisured gaze<br /> +Was loaded with the memory of days<br /> +Buried and mighty. When through the great door<br /> +The dawn came in, and glimmered on the floor<br /> +With a pale light, I journeyed round the hall<br /> +And found a door deep sunken in the wall,<br /> +The least of doors; beyond on a dim plain<br /> +A little runnel made a bubbling strain,<br /> +And on the runnel's stony and bare edge<br /> +A husky demon dry as a withered sedge<br /> +Swayed, crooning to himself an unknown tongue:<br /> +In a sad revelry he sang and swung<br /> +Bacchant and mournful, passing to and fro<br /> +His hand along the runnel's side, as though<br /> +The flowers still grew there: far on the sea's waste<br /> +Shaking and waving, vapour vapour chased,<br /> +While high frail cloudlets, fed with a green light,<br /> +Like drifts of leaves, immovable and bright,<br /> +Hung in the passionate dawn. He slowly turned:<br /> +A demon's leisure: eyes, first white, now burned<br /> +Like wings of kingfishers; and he arose<br /> +Barking. We trampled up and down with blows<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span>Of sword and brazen battle-axe, while day<br /> +Gave to high noon and noon to night gave way;<br /> +And when at withering of the sun he knew<br /> +The Druid sword of Mananan, he grew<br /> +To many shapes; I lunged at the smooth throat<br /> +Of a great eel; it changed, and I but smote<br /> +A fir-tree roaring in its leafless top;<br /> +I held a dripping corpse, with livid chop<br /> +And sunken shape, against my face and breast,<br /> +When I tore down the tree; but when the west<br /> +Surged up in plumy fire, I lunged and drave<br /> +Through heart and spine, and cast him in the wave,<br /> +Lest Niam shudder.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Full of hope and dread</span><br /> +Those two came carrying wine and meat and bread,<br /> +And healed my wounds with unguents out of flowers<br /> +That feed white moths by some De Danaan shrine;<br /> +Then in that hall, lit by the dim sea shine,<br /> +We lay on skins of otters, and drank wine,<br /> +Brewed by the sea-gods, from huge cups that lay<br /> +Upon the lips of sea-gods in their day;<br /> +And then on heaped-up skins of otters slept.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span>But when the sun once more in saffron stept,<br /> +Rolling his flagrant wheel out of the deep,<br /> +We sang the loves and angers without sleep,<br /> +And all the exultant labours of the strong:<br /> +<br /> +But now the lying clerics murder song<br /> +With barren words and flatteries of the weak.<br /> +In what land do the powerless turn the beak<br /> +Of ravening Sorrow, or the hand of Wrath?<br /> +For all your croziers, they have left the path<br /> +And wander in the storms and clinging snows,<br /> +Hopeless for ever: ancient Usheen knows,<br /> +For he is weak and poor and blind, and lies<br /> +On the anvil of the world.</p> + +<p class="actor">S. PATRIC</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">Be still: the skies</span><br /> +Are choked with thunder, lightning, and fierce wind,<br /> +For God has heard, and speaks His angry mind;<br /> +Go cast your body on the stones and pray,<br /> +For He has wrought midnight and dawn and day.</p> + +<p class="actor">USHEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Saint, do you weep? I hear amid the thunder<br /> +The Fenian horses; armour torn asunder;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span>Laughter and cries; the armies clash and shock;<br /> +All is done now; I see the ravens flock;<br /> +Ah, cease, you mournful, laughing Fenian horn!<br /> +<br /> +We feasted for three days. On the fourth morn<br /> +I found, dropping sea foam on the wide stair,<br /> +And hung with slime, and whispering in his hair,<br /> +That demon dull and unsubduable;<br /> +And once more to a day-long battle fell,<br /> +And at the sundown threw him in the surge,<br /> +To lie until the fourth morn saw emerge<br /> +His new healed shape: and for a hundred years<br /> +So warred, so feasted, with nor dreams nor fears,<br /> +Nor languor nor fatigue: and endless feast,<br /> +An endless war.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">The hundred years had ceased;</span><br /> +I stood upon the stair: the surges bore<br /> +A beech bough to me, and my heart grew sore,<br /> +Remembering how I had stood by white-haired Finn<br /> +Under a beech at Emen and heard the thin<br /> +Outcry of bats.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">And then young Niam came</span><br /> +Holding that horse, and sadly called my name;<br /> +I mounted, and we passed over the lone<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span>And drifting grayness, while this monotone,<br /> +Surly and distant, mixed inseparably<br /> +Into the clangour of the wind and sea.<br /> +<br /> +"I hear my soul drop down into decay,<br /> +"And Mananan's dark tower, stone by stone,<br /> +"Gather sea slime and fall the seaward way,<br /> +"And the moon goad the waters night and day,<br /> +"That all be overthrown.<br /> +<br /> +"But till the moon has taken all, I wage<br /> +"War on the mightiest men under the skies,<br /> +"And they have fallen or fled, age after age:<br /> +"Light is man's love, and lighter is man's rage;<br /> +"His purpose drifts and dies."<br /> +<br /> +And then lost Niam murmured, "Love, we go<br /> +"To the Island of Forgetfulness, for lo!<br /> +"The Islands of Dancing and of Victories<br /> +"Are empty of all power."<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">"And which of these</span><br /> +"Is the Island of Content?"<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">"None know," she said;</span><br /> +And on my bosom laid her weeping head.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a></span></p> + + +<h3 class="p6">BOOK III</h3><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></a><br /><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span></p> + + +<p> +Fled foam underneath us, and around us, a wandering and milky smoke,<br /> +High as the saddle girth, covering away from our glances the tide;<br /> +And those that fled, and that followed, from the foam-pale distance broke;<br /> +The immortal desire of immortals we saw in their faces, and sighed.<br /> +<br /> +I mused on the chase with the Fenians, and Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair,<br /> +And never a song sang Niam, and over my finger-tips<br /> +Came now the sliding of tears and sweeping of mist-cold hair,<br /> +And now the warmth of sighs, and after the quiver of lips.<br /> +<br /> +Were we days long or hours long in riding, when rolled in a grisly peace,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span>An isle lay level before us, with dripping hazel and oak?<br /> +And we stood on a sea's edge we saw not; for whiter than new-washed fleece<br /> +Fled foam underneath us, and round us, a wandering and milky smoke.<br /> +<br /> +And we rode on the plains of the sea's edge; the sea's edge barren and gray,<br /> +Gray sand on the green of the grasses and over the dripping trees,<br /> +Dripping and doubling landward, as though they would hasten away<br /> +Like an army of old men longing for rest from the moan of the seas.<br /> +<br /> +But the trees grew taller and closer, immense in their wrinkling bark;<br /> +Dropping; a murmurous dropping; old silence and that one sound;<br /> +For no live creatures lived there, no weasels moved in the dark:<br /> +Long sighs arose in our spirits, beneath us bubbled the ground.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span>And the ears of the horse went sinking away in the hollow night,<br /> +For, as drift from a sailor slow drowning the gleams of the world and the sun,<br /> +Ceased on our hands and our faces, on hazel and oak leaf, the light,<br /> +And the stars were blotted above us, and the whole of the world was one.<br /> +<br /> +Till the horse gave a whinny; for, cumbrous with stems of the hazel and oak,<br /> +A valley flowed down from his hoofs, and there in the long grass lay,<br /> +Under the starlight and shadow, a monstrous slumbering folk,<br /> +Their naked and gleaming bodies poured out and heaped in the way.<br /> +<br /> +And by them were arrow and war-axe, arrow and shield and blade;<br /> +And dew-blanched horns, in whose hollow a child of three years old<br /> +Could sleep on a couch of rushes, and all inwrought and inlaid,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span>And more comely than man can make them with bronze and silver and gold.<br /> +<br /> +And each of the huge white creatures was huger than fourscore men;<br /> +The tops of their ears were feathered, their hands were the claws of birds,<br /> +And, shaking the plumes of the grasses and the leaves of the mural glen,<br /> +The breathing came from those bodies, long-warless, grown whiter than curds.<br /> +<br /> +The wood was so spacious above them, that He who had stars for His flocks<br /> +Could fondle the leaves with His fingers, nor go from His dew-cumbered skies;<br /> +So long were they sleeping, the owls had builded their nests in their locks,<br /> +Filling the fibrous dimness with long generations of eyes.<br /> +<br /> +And over the limbs and the valley the slow owls wandered and came,<br /> +Now in a place of star-fire, and now in a shadow place wide;<br /> +And the chief of the huge white creatures, his knees in the soft star-flame,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span>Lay loose in a place of shadow: we drew the reins by his side.<br /> +<br /> +Golden the nails of his bird-claws, flung loosely along the dim ground;<br /> +In one was a branch soft-shining, with bells more many than sighs,<br /> +In midst of an old man's bosom; owls ruffling and pacing around,<br /> +Sidled their bodies against him, filling the shade with their eyes.<br /> +<br /> +And my gaze was thronged with the sleepers; no, not since the world began,<br /> +In realms where the handsome were many, nor in glamours by demons flung,<br /> +Have faces alive with such beauty been known to the salt eye of man,<br /> +Yet weary with passions that faded when the seven-fold seas were young.<br /> +<br /> +And I gazed on the bell-branch, sleep's forebear, far sung by the Sennachies.<br /> +I saw how those slumberers, grown weary, there camping in grasses deep,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span>Of wars with the wide world and pacing the shores of the wandering seas,<br /> +Laid hands on the bell-branch and swayed it, and fed of unhuman sleep.<br /> +<br /> +Snatching the horn of Niam, I blew a lingering note;<br /> +Came sound from those monstrous sleepers, a sound like the stirring of flies.<br /> +He, shaking the fold of his lips, and heaving the pillar of his throat,<br /> +Watched me with mournful wonder out of the wells of his eyes.<br /> +<br /> +I cried, "Come out of the shadow, king of the nails of gold!<br /> +"And tell of your goodly household and the goodly works of your hands,<br /> +"That we may muse in the starlight and talk of the battles of old;<br /> +"Your questioner, Usheen, is worthy, he comes from the Fenian lands."<br /> +<br /> +Half open his eyes were, and held me, dull with the smoke of their dreams;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span>His lips moved slowly in answer, no answer out of them came;<br /> +Then he swayed in his fingers the bell-branch, slow dropping a sound in faint streams<br /> +Softer than snow-flakes in April and piercing the marrow like flame.<br /> +<br /> +Wrapt in the wave of that music, with weariness more than of earth,<br /> +The moil of my centuries filled me; and gone like a sea-covered stone<br /> +Were the memories of the whole of my sorrow and the memories of the whole of my mirth,<br /> +And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.<br /> +<br /> +In the roots of the grasses, the sorrels, I laid my body as low;<br /> +And the pearl-pale Niam lay by me, her brow on the midst of my breast;<br /> +And the horse was gone in the distance, and years after years 'gan flow;<br /> +Square leaves of the ivy moved over us, binding us down to our rest.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span>And, man of the many white croziers, a century there I forgot;<br /> +How the fetlocks drip blood in the battle, when the fallen on fallen lie rolled;<br /> +How the falconer follows the falcon in the weeds of the heron's plot,<br /> +And the names of the demons whose hammers made armour for Conhor of old.<br /> +<br /> +And, man of the many white croziers, a century there I forgot;<br /> +That the spear-shaft is made out of ashwood, the shield out of ozier and hide;<br /> +How the hammers spring on the anvil, on the spearhead's burning spot;<br /> +How the slow, blue-eyed oxen of Finn low sadly at evening tide.<br /> +<br /> +But in dreams, mild man of the croziers, driving the dust with their throngs,<br /> +Moved round me, of seamen or landsmen, all who are winter tales;<br /> +Came by me the kings of the Red Branch, with roaring of laughter and songs,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span>Or moved as they moved once, love-making or piercing the tempest with sails.<br /> +<br /> +Came Blanid, Mac Nessa, tall Fergus who feastward of old time slunk,<br /> +Cook Barach, the traitor; and warward, the spittle on his beard never dry,<br /> +Dark Balor, as old as a forest, car borne, his mighty head sunk<br /> +Helpless, men lifting the lids of his weary and death-making eye.<br /> +<br /> +And by me, in soft red raiment, the Fenians moved in loud streams,<br /> +And Grania, walking and smiling, sewed with her needle of bone,<br /> +So lived I and lived not, so wrought I and wrought not, with creatures of dreams,<br /> +In a long iron sleep, as a fish in the water goes dumb as a stone.<br /> +<br /> +At times our slumber was lightened. When the sun was on silver or gold;<br /> +When brushed with the wings of the owls, in the dimness they love going by;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span>When a glow-worm was green on a grass leaf, lured from his lair in the mould;<br /> +Half wakening, we lifted our eyelids, and gazed on the grass with a sigh.<br /> +<br /> +So watched I when, man of the croziers, at the heel of a century fell,<br /> +Weak, in the midst of the meadow, from his miles in the midst of the air,<br /> +A starling like them that forgathered 'neath a moon waking white as a shell.<br /> +When the Fenians made foray at morning with Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair.<br /> +<br /> +I awoke: the strange horse without summons out of the distance ran,<br /> +Thrusting his nose to my shoulder; he knew in his bosom deep<br /> +That once more moved in my bosom the ancient sadness of man,<br /> +And that I would leave the immortals, their dimness, their dews dropping sleep.<br /> +<br /> +O, had you seen beautiful Niam grow white as the waters are white,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span>Lord of the croziers, you even had lifted your hands and wept:<br /> +But, the bird in my fingers, I mounted, remembering alone that delight<br /> +Of twilight and slumber were gone, and that hoofs impatiently stept.<br /> +<br /> +I cried, "O Niam! O white one! if only a twelve-houred day,<br /> +"I must gaze on the beard of Finn, and move where the old men and young<br /> +"In the Fenians' dwellings of wattle lean on the chessboards and play,<br /> +"Ah, sweet to me now were even bald Conan's slanderous tongue!<br /> +<br /> +"Like me were some galley forsaken far off in Meridian isle.<br /> +"Remembering its long-oared companions, sails turning to thread-bare rags;<br /> +"No more to crawl on the seas with long oars mile after mile,<br /> +"But to be amid shooting of flies and flowering of rushes and flags."<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span>Their motionless eyeballs of spirits grown mild with mysterious thought<br /> +Watched her those seamless faces from the valley's glimmering girth;<br /> +As she murmured, "O wandering Usheen, the strength of the bell-branch is naught,<br /> +"For there moves alive in your fingers the fluttering sadness of earth.<br /> +<br /> +"Then go through the lands in the saddle and see what the mortals do,<br /> +"And softly come to your Niam over the tops of the tide;<br /> +"But weep for your Niam, O Usheen, weep; for if only your shoe<br /> +"Brush lightly as haymouse earth's pebbles, you will come no more to my side.<br /> +<br /> +"O flaming lion of the world, O when will you turn to your rest?"<br /> +"I saw from a distant saddle; from the earth she made her moan;<br /> +"I would die like a small withered leaf in the autumn, for breast unto breast<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span>"We shall mingle no more, nor our gazes empty their sweetness lone.<br /> +<br /> +"In the isles of the farthest seas where only the spirits come.<br /> +"Were the winds less soft than the breath of a pigeon who sleeps on her nest,<br /> +"Nor lost in the star-fires and odours the sound of the sea's vague drum?<br /> +"O flaming lion of the world, O when will you turn to your rest?"<br /> +<br /> +The wailing grew distant; I rode by the woods of the wrinkling bark,<br /> +Where ever is murmurous dropping, old silence and that one sound;<br /> +For no live creatures live there, no weasels move in the dark;<br /> +In a reverie forgetful of all things, over the bubbling ground.<br /> +<br /> +And I rode by the plains of the sea's edge, where all is barren and gray,<br /> +Gray sands on the green of the grasses and over the dripping trees,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span>Dripping and doubling landward, as though they would hasten away,<br /> +Like an army of old men lounging for rest from the moan of the seas.<br /> +<br /> +And the winds made the sands on the sea's edge turning and turning go,<br /> +As my mind made the names of the Fenians. Far from the hazel and oak,<br /> +I rode away on the surges, where, high as the saddle bow,<br /> +Fled foam underneath me, and round me, a wandering and milky smoke.<br /> +<br /> +Long fled the foam-flakes around me, the winds fled out of the vast,<br /> +Snatching the bird in secret; nor knew I, embosomed apart,<br /> +When they froze the cloth on my body like armour riveted fast,<br /> +For Remembrance, lifting her leanness, keened in the gates of my heart.<br /> +<br /> +Till fattening the winds of the morning, an odour of new-mown hay<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span>Came, and my forehead fell low, and my tears like berries fell down;<br /> +Later a sound came, half lost in the sound of a shore far away,<br /> +From the great grass-barnacle calling, and later the shore-weeds brown.<br /> +<br /> +If I were as I once was, the strong hoofs crushing the sand and the shells,<br /> +Coming out of the sea as the dawn comes, a chaunt of love on my lips,<br /> +Not coughing, my head on my knees, and praying, and wroth with the bells,<br /> +I would leave no saint's head on his body from Rachlin to Bera of ships.<br /> +<br /> +Making way from the kindling surges, I rode on a bridle-path<br /> +Much wondering to see upon all hands, of wattles and woodwork made,<br /> +Your bell-mounted churches, and guardless the sacred cairn and the rath,<br /> +And a small and a feeble populace stooping with mattock and spade.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span>Or weeding or ploughing with faces a-shining with much-toil wet;<br /> +While in this place and that place, with bodies unglorious, their chieftains stood,<br /> +Awaiting in patience the straw-death, croziered one, caught in your net:<br /> +Went the laughter of scorn from my mouth like the roaring of wind in a wood.<br /> +<br /> +And because I went by them so huge and so speedy with eyes so bright,<br /> +Came after the hard gaze of youth, or an old man lifted his head:<br /> +And I rode and I rode, and I cried out, "The Fenians hunt wolves in the night,<br /> +So sleep thee by daytime." A voice cried, "The Fenians a long time are dead."<br /> +<br /> +A whitebeard stood hushed on the pathway, the flesh of his face as dried grass,<br /> +And in folds round his eyes and his mouth, he sad as a child without milk;<br /> +And the dreams of the islands were gone, and I knew how men sorrow and pass,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span>And their hound, and their horse, and their love, and their eyes that glimmer like silk.<br /> +<br /> +And wrapping my face in my hair, I murmured, "In old age they ceased";<br /> +And my tears were larger than berries, and I murmured, "Where white clouds lie spread<br /> +"On Crevroe or broad Knockfefin, with many of old they feast<br /> +"On the floors of the gods." He cried, "No, the gods a long time are dead."<br /> +<br /> +And lonely and longing for Niam, I shivered and turned me about,<br /> +The heart in me longing to leap like a grasshopper into her heart;<br /> +I turned and rode to the westward, and followed the sea's old shout<br /> +Till I saw where Maive lies sleeping till starlight and midnight part.<br /> +<br /> +And there at the foot of the mountain, two carried a sack full of sand,<br /> +They bore it with staggering and sweating, but fell with their burden at length:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span>Leaning down from the gem-studded saddle, I flung it five yards with my hand,<br /> +With a sob for men waxing so weakly, a sob for the Fenian's old strength.<br /> +<br /> +The rest you have heard of, O croziered one; how, when divided the girth,<br /> +I fell on the path, and the horse went away like a summer fly;<br /> +And my years three hundred fell on me, and I rose, and walked on the earth,<br /> +A creeping old man, full of sleep, with the spittle on his beard never dry.<br /> +<br /> +How the men of the sand-sack showed me a church with its belfry in air;<br /> +Sorry place, where for swing of the war-axe in my dim eyes the crozier gleams;<br /> +What place have Caolte and Conan, and Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair?<br /> +Speak, you too are old with your memories, an old man surrounded with dreams.</p> + +<p class="actor">S. PATRIC</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span>Where the flesh of the footsole clingeth on the burning stones is their place;<br /> +Where the demons whip them with wires on the burning stones of wide hell,<br /> +Watching the blessed ones move far off, and the smile on God's face,<br /> +Between them a gateway of brass, and the howl of the angels who fell.</p> + +<p class="actor">USHEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Put the staff in my hands; for I go to the Fenians, O cleric, to chaunt<br /> +The war-songs that roused them of old; they will rise, making clouds with their breath<br /> +Innumerable, singing, exultant; the clay underneath them shall pant,<br /> +And demons be broken in pieces, and trampled beneath them in death.<br /> +<br /> +And demons afraid in their darkness; deep horror of eyes and of wings,<br /> +Afraid their ears on the earth laid, shall listen and rise up and weep;<br /> +Hearing the shaking of shields and the quiver of stretched bowstrings,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span>Hearing hell loud with a murmur, as shouting and mocking we sweep.<br /> +<br /> +We will tear out the flaming stones, and batter the gateway of brass<br /> +And enter, and none sayeth "No" when there enters the strongly armed guest;<br /> +Make clean as a broom cleans, and march on as oxen move over young grass;<br /> +Then feast, making converse of wars, and of old wounds, and turn to our rest.</p> + +<p class="actor">S. PATRIC</p> + +<p class="speech">On the flaming stones, without refuge, the limbs of the Fenians are tost;<br /> +None war on the masters of Hell, who could break up the world in their rage;<br /> +But kneel and wear out the flags and pray for your soul that is lost<br /> +Through the demon love of its youth and its godless and passionate age.</p> + +<p class="actor">USHEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Ah, me! to be shaken with coughing and broken with old age and pain,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span>Without laughter, a show unto children, alone with remembrance and fear;<br /> +All emptied of purple hours as a beggar's cloak in the rain,<br /> +As a hay-cock out on the flood, or a wolf sucked under a weir.<br /> +<br /> +It were sad to gaze on the blessed and no man I loved of old there;<br /> +I throw down the chain of small stones! when life in my body has ceased,<br /> +I will go to Caolte, and Conan, and Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair,<br /> +And dwell in the house of the Fenians, be they in flames or at feast.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298"></a><br /><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2 class="p6"><a name="GLOSSARY_AND_NOTES" id="GLOSSARY_AND_NOTES"></a>GLOSSARY AND NOTES</h2> + + +<p><i>The Pronunciation of the Irish Words.</i>—When I wrote the +greater number of these poems I had hardly considered the +question seriously. I copied at times somebody's perhaps +fanciful phonetic spelling, and at times the ancient spelling as +I found it in some literal translation, pronouncing the words +always as they were spelt. I do not suppose I would have +defended this system at any time, but I do not yet know what +system to adopt. The modern pronunciation, which is usually +followed by those who spell the words phonetically, is certainly +unlike the pronunciation of the time when classical Irish literature +was written, and, so far as I know, no Irish scholar who +writes in English or French has made that minute examination +of the way the names come into the rhythms and measures of the +old poems which can alone discover the old pronunciation. A +French Celtic scholar gave me the pronunciation of a few names, +and told me that Mr. Whitley Stokes had written something about +the subject in German, but I am ignorant of German. If I ever +learn the old pronunciation, I will revise all these poems, but at +present I can only affirm that I have not treated my Irish names +as badly as the mediæval writers of the stories of King Arthur +treated their Welsh names.</p> + +<p><i>Mythological Gods and Heroes.</i>—I refer the reader for such +names as Balor and Finn and Usheen to Lady Gregory's +"Cuchulain of Muirthemne" and to her "Gods and Fighting +Men."</p> + +<p><i>The Ballad of Father Gilligan.</i>—A tradition among the people +of Castleisland, Kerry.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span></p> + +<p><i>The Ballad of Father O'Hart.</i>—This ballad is founded on +the story of a certain Father O'Hart, priest of Coloony, Sligo, +in the last century, as told by the present priest of Coloony +in his <i>History of Ballisodare and Kilvarnet</i>. The robbery +of the lands of Father O'Hart was a kind of robbery which +occurred but rarely during the penal laws. Catholics, forbidden +to own landed property, evaded the law by giving a Protestant +nominal possession of their estates. There are instances on +record in which poor men were nominal owners of immense +estates.</p> + +<p><i>The Ballad of the Foxhunter.</i>—Founded on an incident, probably +itself a Tipperary tradition, in Kickham's <i>Knockagow</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Bell-branch.</i>—A legendary branch whose shaking casts all men +into a sleep.</p> + +<p><i>The Countess Cathleen.</i>—I found the story of the Countess +Cathleen in what professed to be a collection of Irish folk-lore in +an Irish newspaper some years ago. I wrote to the compiler, +asking about its source, but got no answer, but have since heard +that it was translated from <i>Les Matinées de Timothè Trimm</i> a +good many years ago, and has been drifting about the Irish +press ever since. Léo Lespès gives it as an Irish story, and +though the editor of <i>Folklore</i> has kindly advertised for information, +the only Christian variant I know of is a Donegal tale, +given by Mr. Larminie in his <i>West Irish Folk Tales and +Romances</i>, of a woman who goes to hell for ten years to save +her husband, and stays there another ten, having been granted +permission to carry away as many souls as could cling to her +skirt. Léo Lespès may have added a few details, but I have no +doubt of the essential antiquity of what seems to me the most +impressive form of one of the supreme parables of the world. +The parable came to the Greeks in the sacrifice of Alcestis, but +her sacrifice was less overwhelming, less apparently irremediable. +Léo Lespès tells the story as follows:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span>—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>Ce que je vais vous dire est un récit du carême Irlandais. +Le boiteux, l'aveugle, le paralytique des rues de Dublin ou de +Limerick, vous le diraient mieux que moi, cher lecteur, si vous +alliez le leur demander, un sixpense d'argent à la main.—Il +n'est pas une jeune fille catholique à laquelle on ne l'ait appris +pendant les jours de préparation à la communion sainte, pas un +berger des bords de la Blackwater qui ne le puisse redire à la +veillée.</p> + +<p>Il y a bien longtemps qu'il apparut tout-à-coup dans la vielle +Irlande deux marchands inconnus dont personne n'avait ouï +parler, et qui parlaient néanmoins avec la plus grande perfection +la langue du pays. Leurs cheveux étaient noirs et ferrés avec +de l'or et leurs robes d'une grande magnificence.</p> + +<p>Tous deux semblaient avoir le même âge; ils paraissaient +être des hommes de cinquante ans, car leur barbe grisonnait un +peu.</p> + +<p>Or, à cette époque, comme aujourd'hui, l'Irlande était pauvre, +car le soleil avait été rare, et des récoltes presque nulles. Les +indigents ne savaient à quel sainte se vouer, et la misère devenait +de plus en plus terrible.</p> + +<p>Dans l'hôtellerie où descendirent les marchands fastueux on +chercha à pénétrer leurs desseins: mais ce fut en vain, ils +demeurèrent silencieux et discrets.</p> + +<p>Et pendant qu'ils demeurèrent dans l'hôtellerie, ils ne cessèrent +de compter et de recompter des sacs de pièces d'or, dont la vive +clarté s'apercevait à travers les vitres du logis.</p> + +<p>Gentlemen, leur dit l'hôtesse un jour, d'où vient que vous êtes +si opulents, et que, venus pour secourir la misère publique, vous +ne fassiez pas de bonnes œuvres?</p> + +<p>—Belle hôtesse, répondit l'un d'eux, nous n'avons pas voulu +aller au-devant d'infortunes honorables, dans la crainte d'être +trompés par des misères fictives: que la douleur frappe à la +porte, nous ouvrirons.</p> + +<p>Le lendemain, quand on sut qu'il existait deux opulents +étrangers prêts à prodiguer l'or, la foule assiégea leur logis; mais<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span> +les figures des gens qui en sortaient étaient bien diverses. Les +uns avaient la fierté dans le regard, les autres portaient la honte +au front. Les deux trafiquants achetaient des âmes pour le +démon. L'âme d'un vieillard valait vingt pièces d'or, pas un +penny de plus; car Satan avait eu le temps d'y former +hypothèque. L'âme d'une épose en valait cinquante quand +elle était jolie, ou cent quand elle était laide. L'âme d'une +jeune fille se payait des prix fous: les fleurs les plus belles et les +plus pures sont les plus chères.</p> + +<p>Pendant ce temps, il existait dans la ville un ange de beauté, +la comtesse Ketty O'Connor. Elle était l'idole du peuple, et +la providence des indigents. Dès qu'elle eut appris que des +mécréants profitaient de la misère publique pour dérober des +cœurs à Dieu, elle fit appeler son majordome.</p> + +<p>—Master Patrick, lui dit elle, combien ai-je de pièces d'or +dans mon coffre?</p> + +<p>—Cent mille.</p> + +<p>—Combien de bijoux?</p> + +<p>—Peur autant d'argent.</p> + +<p>—Combien de châteux, de bois et de terres?</p> + +<p>—Pour le double de ces sommes.</p> + +<p>—Eh bien! Patrick, vendez tout ce qui n'est pas or et +apportez-m'en le montant. Je ne veux garder à moi que ce +castel et le champ qui l'entoure.</p> + +<p>Deux jours après, les ordres de la pieuse Ketty étaient +exécutés et le trésor était distribué aux pauvres au fur et à mesure +de leurs besoins.</p> + +<p>Ceci ne faisait pas le compte, dit la tradition, des commis-voyageurs +du malin esprit, qui ne trouvaient plus d'âmes +à acheter.</p> + +<p>Aidés par un valet infâme, ils pénétrèrent dans la retraite de +la noble dame et lui dérobèrent le reste de son trésor ... en +vain lutta-t-elle de toutes ses forces pour sauver le contenu de +son coffre, les larrons diaboliques furent les plus forts. Si Ketty +avait eu les moyens de faire un signe de croix, ajoute la légende<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span> +Irlandaise, elle les eût mis en fuite, mais ses mains étaient +captives—Le larcin fut effectué. Alors les pauvres sollicitèrent +en vain près de Ketty dépouillée, elle ne pouvait plus secourir +leur misère;—elle les abandonnait à la tentation. Pourtant il +n'y avait plus que huit jours à passer pour que les grains et lea +fourrages arrivassent en abondance des pays d'Orient. Mais, +huit jours, c'était un siècle: huit jours nécessitaient une somme +immense pour subvenir aux exigences de la disette, et les +pauvres allaient ou expirer dans les angousses de la faim, ou, +reniant les saintes maximes de l'Evangile, vendre à vil prix leur +âme, le plus beau présent de la munificence du Seigneur tout-puissant.</p> + +<p>Et Ketty n'avait plus une obole, car elle avait abandonné son +châteux aux malheureux.</p> + +<p>Elle passa douze heures dans les larmes et le deuil, arrachant +ses cheveux couleur de soleil et meurtrissant son sein couleur du +lis: puis elle se leva résolue, animée par un vif sentiment de +désespoir.</p> + +<p>Elle se rendit chez les marchands d'âmes.</p> + +<p>—Que voulez-vous? dirent ils.</p> + +<p>—Vous achetez des âmes?</p> + +<p>—Oui, un peu malgré vous, n'est ce pas, sainte aux yeux de +saphir?</p> + +<p>—Aujourd'hui je viens vous proposer un marché, reprit +elle.</p> + +<p>—Lequel?</p> + +<p>—J'ai une âme a vendre; mais elle est chère.</p> + +<p>—Qu'importe si elle est précieuse? l'âme, comme le diamant, +s'apprécie à sa blancheur.</p> + +<p>—C'est la mienne, dit Ketty.</p> + +<p>Les deux envoyés de Satan tressaillirent. Leurs griffes +s'allongèrent sous leurs gants de cuir; leurs yeux gris étincelèrent—l'âme, +pure, immaculée, virginale de Ketty!... c'était +une acquisition inappréciable.</p> + +<p>—Gentille dame, combien voulez-vous?</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span></p> + +<p>—Cent cinquante mille écus d'or.</p> + +<p>—C'est fait, dirent les marchands: et ils tendirent à +Ketty un parchemin cacheté de noir, qu'elle signa en frissonnant.</p> + +<p>La somme lui fut comptée.</p> + +<p>Des qu'elle fut rentrée, elle dit au majordome:</p> + +<p>—Tenez, distribuez ceci. Avec la somme que je vous donne +les pauvres attendront la huitaine nécessaire et pas une de leurs +âmes ne sera livrée au démon.</p> + +<p>Puis elle s'enferma et recommanda qu'on ne vint pas la +déranger.</p> + +<p>Trois jours se passèrent; elle n'appela pas; elle ne sortit +pas.</p> + +<p>Quand on ouvrit sa porte, on la trouva raide et froide: elle +était morte de douleur.</p> + +<p>Mais la vente de cette âme si adorable dans sa charité fut +déclarée nulle par le Seigneur: car elle avait sauvé ses concitoyens +de la morte éternelle.</p> + +<p>Après la huitaine, des vaisseaux nombreux amenèrent à +l'Irlande affamée d'immenses provisions de grains.</p> + +<p>La famine n'était plus possible. Quant aux marchands, ils +disparurent de leur hôtellerie, sans qu'on sût jamais ce qu'ils +étaient devenus.</p> + +<p>Toutefois, les pêcheurs de la Blackwater prétendent qu'ils +sont enchainés dans une prison souterraine par ordre de +Lucifer jusqu'au moment où ils pourront livrer l'âme de Ketty +qui leur a échappé. Je vous dis la légende telle que je la sais.</p> + +<p>—Mais les pauvres l'ont raconté d'âge en âge et les enfants de +Cork et de Dublin chantent encore la ballade dont voici les +derniers couplets:—</p> + +<p> +Pour sauver les pauvres qu'elle aime<br /> +Ketty donna<br /> +Son esprit, sa croyance même:<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span>Satan paya<br /> +Cette âme au dévoûment sublime,<br /> +En écus d'or,<br /> +Disons pour racheter son crime,<br /> +<i>Confiteor</i>.<br /> +<br /> +Mais l'ange qui se fit coupable<br /> +Par charité<br /> +Au séjour d'amour ineffable<br /> +Est remonté.<br /> +Satan vaincu n'eut pas de prise<br /> +Sur ce cœur d'or;<br /> +Chantons sous la nef de l'église,<br /> +<i>Confiteor</i>.</p> + +<p>N'est ce pas que ce récit, né de l'imagination des poètes +catholiques de la verte Erin, est une véritable récit de carême?</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><i>The Countess Cathleen</i> was acted in Dublin in 1899, with +Mr. Marcus St. John and Mr. Trevor Lowe as the First and +Second Demon, Mr. Valentine Grace as Shemus Rua, Master +Charles Sefton as Teig, Madame San Carola as Mary, Miss +Florence Farr as Aleel, Miss Anna Mather as Oona, Mr. +Charles Holmes as the Herdsman, Mr. Jack Wilcox as the +Gardener, Mr. Walford as a Peasant, Miss Dorothy Paget as a +Spirit, Miss M. Kelly as a Peasant Woman, Mr. T.E. Wilkinson +as a Servant, and Miss May Whitty as The Countess +Kathleen. They had to face a very vehement opposition stirred +up by a politician and a newspaper, the one accusing me in a +pamphlet, the other in long articles day after day, of blasphemy +because of the language of the demons or of Shemus Rua, and +because I made a woman sell her soul and yet escape damnation, +and of a lack of patriotism because I made Irish men and +women, who, it seems, never did such a thing, sell theirs. The +politician or the newspaper persuaded some forty Catholic +students to sign a protest against the play, and a Cardinal, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span> +avowed that he had not read it, to make another, and both +politician and newspaper made such obvious appeals to the +audience to break the peace, that a score or so of police were sent +to the theatre to see that they did not. I had, however, no +reason to regret the result, for the stalls, containing almost all +that was distinguished in Dublin, and a gallery of artisans alike +insisted on the freedom of literature.</p> + +<p>After the performance in 1899 I added the love scene between +Aleel and the Countess, and in this new form the play was +revived in New York by Miss Wycherley as well as being +played a good deal in England and America by amateurs. +Now at last I have made a complete revision to make it +suitable for performance at the Abbey Theatre. The first two +scenes are almost wholly new, and throughout the play I have +added or left out such passages as a stage experience of some +years showed me encumbered the action; the play in its first +form having been written before I knew anything of the theatre. +I have left the old end, however, in the version printed in the +body of this book, because the change for dramatic purposes +has been made for no better reason than that audiences—even +at the Abbey Theatre—are almost ignorant of Irish mythology—or +because a shallow stage made the elaborate vision of armed +angels upon a mountain-side impossible. The new end is +particularly suited to the Abbey stage, where the stage platform +can be brought out in front of the proscenium and have a flight +of steps at one side up which the Angel comes, crossing towards +the back of the stage at the opposite side. The principal lighting +is from two arc lights in the balcony which throw their +lights into the faces of the players, making footlights unnecessary. +The room at Shemus Rua's house is suggested by a great grey +curtain—a colour which becomes full of rich tints under the +stream of light from the arcs. The two or more arches in the third +scene permit the use of a gauze. The short front scene before +the last is just long enough when played with incidental music +to allow the scene set behind it to be changed. The play<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span> +when played without interval in this way lasts a little over +an hour.</p> + +<p>The play was performed at the Abbey Theatre for the first +time on December 14, 1911, Miss Maire O'Neill taking the part +of the Countess, and the last scene from the going out of the +Merchants was as follows:—</p> + +<p class="exposition">(<span class="smcap">MERCHANTS</span> <i>rush out</i>. <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>crawls into the middle of +the room; the twilight has fallen and gradually +darkens as the scene goes on</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">They're rising up—they're rising through the earth,<br /> +Fat Asmodel and giddy Belial,<br /> +And all the fiends. Now they leap in the air.<br /> +But why does Hell's gate creak so? Round and round.<br /> +Hither and hither, to and fro they're running.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He moves about as though the air was full of spirits.</i> <span class="smcap">OONA</span> +<i>enters</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">Crouch down, old heron, out of the blind storm.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Where is the Countess Cathleen? All this day<br /> +Her eyes were full of tears, and when for a moment<br /> +Her hand was laid upon my hand, it trembled.<br /> +And now I do not know where she is gone.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">Cathleen has chosen other friends than us,<br /> +And they are rising through the hollow world.<br /> +Demons are out, old heron.</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span><span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">God guard her soul.</span></p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">She's bartered it away this very hour,<br /> +As though we two were never in the world.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>He kneels beside her, but does not seem to hear her words. +The</i> <span class="smcap">PEASANTS</span> <i>return. They carry the</i> <span class="smcap">COUNTESS +CATHLEEN</span> <i>and lay her upon the ground before</i> <span class="smcap">OONA</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span>. <i>She lies there as if dead.</i>)</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">O, that so many pitchers of rough clay<br /> +Should prosper and the porcelain break in two!</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She kisses the hands of</i> <span class="smcap">CATHLEEN</span>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">We were under the tree where the path turns<br /> +When she grew pale as death and fainted away.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">O, hold me, and hold me tightly, for the storm<br /> +Is dragging me away.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>takes her in her arms</i>. <span class="smcap">A woman</span> <i>begins to wail</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">PEASANTS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">PEASANTS</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">PEASANT WOMEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span><span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">OTHER PEASANT WOMEN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 19.5em;">Hush!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN (<i>half rising</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech">Lay all the bags of money in a heap,<br /> +And when I am gone, old Oona, share them out<br /> +To every man and woman: judge, and give<br /> +According to their needs.</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 13em;">And will she give</span><br /> +Enough to keep my children through the dearth?</p> + +<p class="actor">ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">O, Queen of Heaven, and all you blessed saints,<br /> +Let us and ours be lost, so she be shriven.</p> + +<p class="actor">CATHLEEN</p> + +<p class="speech">Bend down your faces, Oona and Aleel;<br /> +I gaze upon them as the swallow gazes<br /> +Upon the nest under the eave, before<br /> +She wander the loud waters. Do not weep<br /> +Too great a while, for there is many a candle<br /> +On the High Altar though one fall. Aleel,<br /> +Who sang about the dancers of the woods,<br /> +That know not the hard burden of the world,<br /> +Having but breath in their kind bodies, farewell!<br /> +And farewell, Oona, you who played with me<br /> +And bore me in your arms about the house<br /> +When I was but a child—and therefore happy,<br /> +Therefore happy even like those that dance.<br /> +The storm is in my hair and I must go.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>She dies.</i>)</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span></p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Bring me the looking-glass.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">A woman</span> <i>brings it to her out of inner room</i>. <span class="smcap">OONA</span> +<i>holds glass over the lips of</i> <span class="smcap">CATHLEEN</span>. <i>All is silent +for a moment, then she speaks in a half-scream.</i>)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">O, she is dead!</span></p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">She was the great white lily of the world.</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT</p> + +<p class="speech">She was more beautiful than the pale stars.</p> + +<p class="actor">AN OLD PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech">The little plant I loved is broken in two.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>takes looking-glass from</i> <span class="smcap">OONA</span> <i>and flings it upon +floor, so that it is broken in many pieces</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech">I shatter you in fragments, for the face<br /> +That brimmed you up with beauty is no more;<br /> +And die, dull heart, for you that were a mirror<br /> +Are but a ball of passionate dust again!<br /> +And level earth and plumy sea, rise up!<br /> +And haughty sky, fall down!</p> + +<p class="actor">A PEASANT WOMAN</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">Pull him upon his knees,</span><br /> +His curses will pluck lightning on our heads.</p> + +<p class="actor">ALEEL</p> + +<p class="speech"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span>Angels and devils clash in the middle air,<br /> +And brazen swords clang upon brazen helms.<br /> +Look, look, a spear has gone through Belial's eye!</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>A winged</i> <span class="smcap">ANGEL</span>, <i>carrying a torch and a sword, enters +from the</i> <span class="smcap">R.</span> <i>with eyes fixed upon some distant +thing. The</i> <span class="smcap">ANGEL</span> <i>is about to pass out to the</i> <span class="smcap">L.</span> +<i>when</i> <span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>speaks. The</i> <span class="smcap">ANGEL</span> <i>stops a moment and +turns</i>.)</p> + +<p class="speech">Look no more on the half-closed gates of Hell,<br /> +But speak to me whose mind is smitten of God,<br /> +That it may be no more with mortal things:<br /> +And tell of her who lies there.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">ANGEL</span> <i>turns again and is about to go, but is seized by</i> +<span class="smcap">ALEEL</span>.)</p> + +<p class="speech"><span style="margin-left: 16em;">Till you speak</span><br /> +You shall not drift into eternity.</p> + +<p class="actor">THE ANGEL</p> + +<p class="speech">The light beats down; the gates of pearl are wide.<br /> +And she is passing to the floor of peace,<br /> +And Mary of the seven times wounded heart<br /> +Has kissed her lips, and the long blessed hair<br /> +Has fallen on her face; the Light of Lights<br /> +Looks always on the motive, not the deed,<br /> +The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone.</p> + +<p class="direction">(<span class="smcap">ALEEL</span> <i>releases the</i> <span class="smcap">ANGEL</span> <i>and kneels</i>.)</p> + +<p class="actor">OONA</p> + +<p class="speech">Tell them to walk upon the floor of peace,<br /> +That I would die and go to her I love;<br /> +The years like great black oxen tread the world,<br /> +And God the herdsman goads them on behind,<br /> +And I am broken by their passing feet.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">312</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Down by the Salley Gardens.</i>—An extension of three lines +sung to me by an old woman at Ballisodare.</p> + +<p><i>Findrinny (Findruine).</i>—A kind of white bronze.</p> + +<p><i>Finvarra (Finbar).</i>—The king of the faeries of Connaught.</p> + +<p><i>Hell.</i>—In the older Irish books Hell is always cold, and it +may be because the Fomoroh, or evil powers, ruled over the +north and the winter. Christianity adopted as far as possible +the Pagan symbolism in Ireland as elsewhere, and Irish poets, +when they spoke of "the cold flagstone of Hell," may have +repeated Pagan symbolism. The folk-tales, and Keating in his +description of Hell, make use, however, of the ordinary symbolism +of fire.</p> + +<p><i>The Lamentation of the Pensioner.</i>—This poem is little more +than a translation into verse of the very words of an old Wicklow +peasant. Fret means doom or destiny.</p> + +<p><i>The Land of Heart's Desire.</i>—This little play was produced +at the Avenue Theatre in the spring of 1894, with the following +cast:—Maurteen Bruin, Mr. James Welch; Shawn Bruin, +Mr. A.E.W. Mason; Father Hart, Mr. G.R. Foss; +Bridget Bruin, Miss Charlotte Morland; Maire Bruin, Miss +Winifred Fraser; A Faery Child, Miss Dorothy Paget. It +ran for a little over six weeks. It was revived in America +in 1901, when it was taken on tour by Mrs. Lemoyne. +It has been played two or three times professionally since +then in America and a great many times in England and +America by amateurs. Till lately it was not part of the +repertory of the Abbey Theatre, for I had grown to dislike +it without knowing what I disliked in it. This winter, however, +I have made many revisions and now it plays well +enough to give me pleasure. It is printed in this book in +the new form, which was acted for the first time on February<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">313</a></span> +22, 1912, at the Abbey Theatre, Dublin. At the Abbey +Theatre, where the platform of the stage comes out in front +of the curtain, the curtain falls before the priest's last words. +He remains outside the curtain and the words are spoken to +the audience like an epilogue.</p> + +<p><i>The Meditation of the Old Fisherman.</i>—This poem is founded +upon some things a fisherman said to me when out fishing in +Sligo Bay.</p> + +<p><i>Northern Cold.</i>—The Fomor, the powers of death and +darkness and cold and evil, came from the north.</p> + +<p><i>Nuala.</i>—The wife of Finvarra.</p> + +<p><i>Rose.</i>—The rose is a favourite symbol with the Irish poets, +and has given a name to several poems both Gaelic and English, +and is used in love poems, in addresses to Ireland like Mr. +Aubrey de Vere's poem telling how "The little black rose shall +be red at last," and in religious poems, like the old Gaelic one +which speaks of "the Rose of Friday," meaning the Rose of +Austerity.</p> + +<p><i>Salley.</i>—Willow.</p> + +<p><i>Seven Hazel-trees.</i>—There was once a well overshadowed by +seven sacred hazel-trees, in the midst of Ireland. A certain +woman plucked their fruit, and seven rivers arose out of the well +and swept her away. In my poems this well is the source of all +the waters of this world, which are therefore seven-fold.</p> + +<p><i>The Wanderings of Usheen.</i>—The poem is founded upon the +middle Irish dialogues of S. Patric and Usheen and a certain +Gaelic poem of the last century. The events it describes, like +the events in most of the poems in this volume, are supposed +to have taken place rather in the indefinite period, made up of +many periods, described by the folk-tales, than in any particular<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">314</a></span> +century; it therefore, like the later Fenian stories themselves, +mixes much that is mediæval with much that is ancient. The +Gaelic poems do not make Usheen go to more than one island, +but a story in <i>Silva Gadelica</i> describes "four paradises," an island +to the north, an island to the west, an island to the south, and +Adam's paradise in the east.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">315</a></span></p> + +<p class="center p6"> +<i>Printed in Great Britain by</i><br /> +<br /> +UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED<br /> +WOKING AND LONDON</p> + +<p class="transnote">Transcriber's Notes:<br /> +Page 16: 'thictkes' changed to 'thickets'<br /> +Page 172: 'He brings in' could be 'She brings in'<br /> +Page 263: 'Before this duy' changed to 'Before this day'<br /> +Page 290: 'Far from the hazel and oak.' changed to 'Far from the hazel and oak,'<br /> +Page 295: 'move far off' could be 'move far oft'</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by W. B. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/old/38877.txt b/old/38877.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9ac9b21 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/38877.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7725 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by W. B. Yeats + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poems + +Author: W. B. Yeats + +Release Date: February 14, 2012 [EBook #38877] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Irma Spehar, Rory OConor and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + + + + + + + POEMS + + + EVERY IRISHMAN'S LIBRARY + + _Cr. 8vo., cloth, 3s. 6d. net each. With Frontispieces._ + + LIST OF VOLUMES + + 1. Thomas Davis. SELECTIONS FROM HIS PROSE + AND POETRY. Edited by T.W. ROLLESTON, + M.A. (Dublin). + + 2. Wild Sports of the West. By W.H. MAXWELL. + Edited by the EARL OF DUNRAVEN. + + 3. Legends of Saints and Sinners from the + Irish. Edited by DOUGLAS HYDE, LL.D. + (Dublin). + + 4. The Book of Irish Humour. Edited by + CHARLES L. GRAVES, M.A. (Oxon.). + + 5. Irish Orators and Oratory. With an Introduction + by Professor T.M. KETTLE, M.P. + + 6. The Book of Irish Poetry. Edited by ALFRED + PERCEVAL GRAVES, M.A. (Dublin). + + 7. Standish O'Grady. SELECTED ESSAYS AND + PASSAGES. Edited by ERNEST A. BOYD. + + 8. Recollections of Jonah Barrington. Edited + by GEORGE A. BIRMINGHAM. + + 9. Poems of Sir Samuel Ferguson. Edited by + ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES, M.A. + + 10. Carleton's Stories of Irish Life. With an + Introduction by DARRELL FIGGIS. + + 11. The Collegians. By GERALD GRIFFIN. With + Introduction by PADRAIC COLUM. + + 12. Maria Edgeworth: SELECTIONS FROM HER + WORKS. With an Introduction by MALCOLM + COTTER SETON, M.A. + + T. FISHER UNWIN LTD., LONDON + + + [Illustration: Signature: WB Yeats] + + + + + POEMS + + BY + + W.B. YEATS + + LONDON + T. FISHER UNWIN LTD. + ADELPHI TERRACE + + +"The Wanderings of Oisin" was published with the lyrics now collected +under the title "Crossways" in 1888, "The Countess Cathleen" with the +lyrics now collected under the title "The Rose" in 1892, and "The Land +of Heart's Desire" by itself in 1894. They were revised and reprinted in +one volume in 1895, again revised and reprinted in 1899, and again +reprinted in 1901, 1904, 1908, 1912, 1913, 1919, and 1920. + +(_All rights reserved_) + + + + +PREFACE + + +During the last year I have spent much time altering "The Countess +Cathleen" and "The Land of Heart's Desire" that they might be a part of +the repertory of the Abbey Theatre. I had written them before I had any +practical experience, and I knew from the performance of the one in +Dublin in 1899 and of the other in London in 1894 that they were full of +defects. But in their new shape--and each play has been twice played +during the winter--they have given me some pleasure, and are, I think, +easier to play effectively than my later plays, depending less upon the +players and more upon the producer, both having been imagined more for +variety of stage-picture than variety of mood in the player. It was, +indeed, the first performance of "The Countess Cathleen," when our +stage-pictures were made out of poor conventional scenery and hired +costumes, that set me writing plays where all would depend upon the +player. The first two scenes are wholly new, and though I have left the +old end in the body of this book I have given in the notes an end less +difficult to producer and audience, and there are slight alterations +elsewhere in the poem. "The Land of Heart's Desire," besides some +mending in the details, has been thrown back in time because the +metrical speech would have sounded unreal if spoken in a country cottage +now that we have so many dialect comedies. The shades of Mrs. Fallan and +Mrs. Dillane and of Dan Bourke and the Tramp would have seemed too +boisterous or too vivid for shades made cold and distant with the +artifice of verse. + +I have not again retouched the lyric poems of my youth, fearing some +stupidity in my middle years, but have changed two or three pages that I +always knew to be wrong in "The Wanderings of Usheen." + + W.B. YEATS. + + _June, 1912._ + + + + +PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION + + +I have added some passages to "The Land of Heart's Desire," and a new +scene of some little length, besides passages here and there, to "The +Countess Cathleen." The goddess has never come to me with her hands so +full that I have not found many waste places after I had planted all +that she had brought me. The present version of "The Countess Cathleen" +is not quite the version adopted by the Irish Literary Theatre a couple +of years ago, for our stage and scenery were capable of little; and it +may differ more from any stage version I make in future, for it seems +that my people of the waters and my unhappy dead, in the third act, +cannot keep their supernatural essence, but must put on too much of our +mortality, in any ordinary theatre. I am told that I must abandon a +meaning or two and make my merchants carry away the treasure +themselves. The act was written long ago, when I had seen so few plays +that I took pleasure in stage effects. Indeed, I am not yet certain that +a wealthy theatre could not shape it to an impressive pageantry, or that +a theatre without any wealth could not lift it out of pageantry into the +mind, with a dim curtain, and some dimly lighted players, and the +beautiful voices that should be as important in poetical as in musical +drama. The Elizabethan stage was so little imprisoned in material +circumstance that the Elizabethan imagination was not strained by god or +spirit, nor even by Echo herself--no, not even when she answered, as in +"The Duchess of Malfi," in clear, loud words which were not the words +that had been spoken to her. We have made a prison-house of paint and +canvas, where we have as little freedom as under our own roofs, for +there is no freedom in a house that has been made with hands. All art +moves in the cave of the Chimaera, or in the garden of the Hesperides, or +in the more silent house of the gods, and neither cave, nor garden, nor +house can show itself clearly but to the mind's eye. + +Besides rewriting a lyric or two, I have much enlarged the note on "The +Countess Cathleen," as there has been some discussion in Ireland about +the origin of the story, but the other notes are as they have always +been. They are short enough, but I do not think that anybody who knows +modern poetry will find obscurities in this book. In any case, I must +leave my myths and symbols to explain themselves as the years go by and +one poems lights up another, and the stories that friends, and one +friend in particular, have gathered for me, or that I have gathered +myself in many cottages, find their way into the light. I would, if I +could, add to that majestic heraldry of the poets, that great and +complicated inheritance of images which written literature has +substituted for the greater and more complex inheritance of spoken +tradition, some new heraldic images, gathered from the lips of the +common people. Christianity and the old nature faith have lain down side +by side in the cottages, and I would proclaim that peace as loudly as I +can among the kingdoms of poetry, where there is no peace that is not +joyous, no battle that does not give life instead of death; I may even +try to persuade others, in more sober prose, that there can be no +language more worthy of poetry and of the meditation of the soul than +that which has been made, or can be made, out of a subtlety of desire, +an emotion of sacrifice, a delight in order, that are perhaps +Christian, and myths and images that mirror the energies of woods and +streams, and of their wild creatures. Has any part of that majestic +heraldry of the poets had a very different fountain? Is it not the +ritual of the marriage of heaven and earth? + +These details may seem to many unnecessary; but after all one writes +poetry for a few careful readers and for a few friends, who will not +consider such details unnecessary. When Cimabue had the cry it was, it +seems, worth thinking of those that run; but to-day, when they can write +as well as read, one can sit with one's companions under the hedgerow +contentedly. If one writes well and has the patience, somebody will come +from among the runners and read what one has written quickly, and go +away quickly, and write out as much as he can remember in the language +of the highway. + + W.B. YEATS. + + _January, 1901._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + +THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN 1 + +THE ROSE-- + + To the Rose upon the Rood of Time 109 + + Fergus and the Druid 111 + + The Death of Cuchulain 114 + + The Rose of the World 119 + + The Rose of Peace 120 + + The Rose of Battle 121 + + A Faery Song 123 + + The Lake Isle of Innisfree 124 + + A Cradle Song 125 + + The Pity of Love 126 + + The Sorrow of Love 127 + + When You are Old 128 + + The White Birds 129 + + A Dream of Death 131 + + A Dream of a Blessed Spirit 132 + + Who goes with Fergus 133 + + The Man who Dreamed of Faeryland 134 + + The Dedication to a Book of Stories selected from + the Irish Novelists 137 + + The Lamentation of the Old Pensioner 139 + + The Ballad of Father Gilligan 140 + + The Two Trees 143 + + To Ireland in the Coming Times 145 + +THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE 149 + +CROSSWAYS-- + + The Song of the Happy Shepherd 197 + + The Sad Shepherd 200 + + The Cloak, The Boat, and the Shoes 202 + + Anashuya and Vijaya 203 + + The Indian upon God 209 + + The Indian to his Love 211 + + The Falling of the Leaves 213 + + Ephemera 214 + + The Madness of King Goll 216 + + The Stolen Child 220 + + To an Isle in the Water 223 + + Down by the Salley Gardens 224 + + The Meditation of the Old Fisherman 225 + + The Ballad of Father O'Hart 226 + + The Ballad of Moll Magee 229 + + The Ballad of the Foxhunter 232 + +THE WANDERINGS OF USHEEN 235 + +GLOSSARY AND NOTES 299 + + +_TO SOME I HAVE TALKED WITH BY THE FIRE_ + + + _While I wrought out these fitful Danaan rhymes, + My heart would brim with dreams about the times + When we bent down above the fading coals; + And talked of the dark folk, who live in souls + Of passionate men, like bats in the dead trees; + And of the wayward twilight companies, + Who sigh with mingled sorrow and content, + Because their blossoming dreams have never bent + Under the fruit of evil and of good: + And of the embattled flaming multitude + Who rise, wing above wing, flame above flame, + And, like a storm, cry the Ineffable Name, + And with the clashing of their sword blades make + A rapturous music, till the morning break, + And the white hush end all, but the loud beat + Of their long wings, the flash of their white feet._ + + + + +THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN + + + "The sorrowful are dumb for thee" + +_Lament of Morion Shehone for Miss Mary Bourke_ + + +TO + +MAUD GONNE + + + SHEMUS RUA A Peasant + + MARY His Wife + + TEIG His Son + + ALEEL A Poet + + THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN + + OONA Her Foster Mother + + Two Demons disguised as Merchants + + Peasants, Servants, Angelical Beings + + +_The Scene is laid in Ireland and in old times_ + + + + +SCENE I + + + SCENE.--_A room with lighted fire, and a door into the open air, + through which one sees, perhaps, the trees of a wood, and these + trees should be painted in flat colour upon a gold or diapered sky. + The walls are of one colour. The scent should have the effect of + missal painting._ MARY, a_ woman of forty years or so, is grinding + a quern_. + + + MARY + + What can have made the grey hen flutter so? + +(TEIG, _a boy of fourteen, is coming in with turf, which he lays beside +the hearth_.) + + TEIG + + They say that now the land is famine struck + The graves are walking. + + MARY + + There is something that the hen hears. + + TEIG + + And that is not the worst; at Tubber-vanach + A woman met a man with ears spread out, + And they moved up and down like a bat's wing. + + MARY + + What can have kept your father all this while? + + TEIG + + Two nights ago, at Carrick-orus churchyard, + A herdsman met a man who had no mouth, + Nor eyes, nor ears; his face a wall of flesh; + He saw him plainly by the light of the moon. + + MARY + + Look out, and tell me if your father's coming. + +(TEIG _goes to door_.) + + TEIG + + Mother! + + MARY + + What is it? + + TEIG + + In the bush beyond, + There are two birds--if you can call them birds-- + I could not see them rightly for the leaves. + But they've the shape and colour of horned owls + And I'm half certain they've a human face. + + MARY + + Mother of God, defend us! + + TEIG + + They're looking at me. + What is the good of praying? father says. + God and the Mother of God have dropped asleep. + What do they care, he says, though the whole land + Squeal like a rabbit under a weasel's tooth? + + MARY + + You'll bring misfortune with your blasphemies + Upon your father, or yourself, or me. + I would to God he were home--ah, there he is. + +(SHEMUS _comes in_.) + + What was it kept you in the wood? You know + I cannot get all sorts of accidents + Out of my mind till you are home again. + + SHEMUS + + I'm in no mood to listen to your clatter. + Although I tramped the woods for half a day, + I've taken nothing, for the very rats, + Badgers, and hedgehogs seem to have died of drought, + And there was scarce a wind in the parched leaves. + + TEIG + + Then you have brought no dinner. + + SHEMUS + + After that + I sat among the beggars at the cross-roads, + And held a hollow hand among the others. + + MARY + + What, did you beg? + + SHEMUS + + I had no chance to beg, + For when the beggars saw me they cried out + They would not have another share their alms, + And hunted me away with sticks and stones. + + TEIG + + You said that you would bring us food or money. + + SHEMUS + + What's in the house? + + TEIG + + A bit of mouldy bread. + + MARY + + There's flour enough to make another loaf. + + TEIG + + And when that's gone? + + MARY + + There is the hen in the coop. + + SHEMUS + + My curse upon the beggars, my curse upon them! + + TEIG + + And the last penny gone. + + SHEMUS + + When the hen's gone, + What can we do but live on sorrel and dock, + And dandelion, till our mouths are green? + + MARY + + God, that to this hour's found bit and sup, + Will cater for us still. + + SHEMUS + + His kitchen's bare. + There were five doors that I looked through this day + And saw the dead and not a soul to wake them. + + MARY + + Maybe He'd have us die because He knows, + When the ear is stopped and when the eye is stopped, + That every wicked sight is hid from the eye, + And all fool talk from the ear. + + SHEMUS + + Who's passing there? + And mocking us with music? + +(_A stringed instrument without._) + + TEIG + + A young man plays it, + There's an old woman and a lady with him. + + SHEMUS + + What is the trouble of the poor to her? + Nothing at all or a harsh radishy sauce + For the day's meat. + + MARY + + God's pity on the rich. + Had we been through as many doors, and seen + The dishes standing on the polished wood + In the wax candle light, we'd be as hard, + And there's the needle's eye at the end of all. + + SHEMUS + + My curse upon the rich. + + TEIG + + They're coming here. + + SHEMUS + + Then down upon that stool, down quick, I say, + And call up a whey face and a whining voice, + And let your head be bowed upon your knees. + + MARY + + Had I but time to put the place to rights. + +(CATHLEEN, OONA, _and_ ALEEL _enter_.) + + CATHLEEN + + God save all here. There is a certain house, + An old grey castle with a kitchen garden, + A cider orchard and a plot for flowers, + Somewhere among these woods. + + MARY + + We know it, lady. + A place that's set among impassable walls + As though world's trouble could not find it out. + + CATHLEEN + + It may be that we are that trouble, for we-- + Although we've wandered in the wood this hour-- + Have lost it too, yet I should know my way, + For I lived all my childhood in that house. + + MARY + + Then you are Countess Cathleen? + + CATHLEEN + + And this woman, + Oona, my nurse, should have remembered it, + For we were happy for a long time there. + + OONA + + The paths are overgrown with thickets now, + Or else some change has come upon my sight. + + CATHLEEN + + And this young man, that should have known the woods-- + Because we met him on their border but now, + Wandering and singing like a wave of the sea-- + Is so wrapped up in dreams of terrors to come + That he can give no help. + + MARY + + You have still some way, + But I can put you on the trodden path + Your servants take when they are marketing. + But first sit down and rest yourself awhile, + For my old fathers served your fathers, lady, + Longer than books can tell--and it were strange + If you and yours should not be welcome here. + + CATHLEEN + + And it were stranger still were I ungrateful + For such kind welcome--but I must be gone, + For the night's gathering in. + + SHEMUS + + It is a long while + Since I've set eyes on bread or on what buys it. + + CATHLEEN + + So you are starving even in this wood, + Where I had thought I would find nothing changed. + But that's a dream, for the old worm o' the world + Can eat its way into what place it pleases. + +(_She gives money._) + + TEIG + + Beautiful lady, give me something too; + I fell but now, being weak with hunger and thirst + And lay upon the threshold like a log. + + CATHLEEN + + I gave for all and that was all I had. + Look, my purse is empty. I have passed + By starving men and women all this day, + And they have had the rest; but take the purse, + The silver clasps on't may be worth a trifle. + But if you'll come to-morrow to my house + You shall have twice the sum. + +(ALEEL _begins to play_.) + + SHEMUS (_muttering_) + + What, music, music! + + CATHLEEN + + Ah, do not blame the finger on the string; + The doctors bid me fly the unlucky times + And find distraction for my thoughts, or else + Pine to my grave. + + SHEMUS + + I have said nothing, lady. + Why should the like of us complain? + + OONA + + Have done. + Sorrows that she's but read of in a book + Weigh on her mind as if they had been her own. + +(OONA, MARY, and CATHLEEN _go out_. ALEEL _looks defiantly at_ SHEMUS.) + + ALEEL (_singing_) + + Were I but crazy for love's sake + I know who'd measure out his length, + I know the heads that I should break, + For crazy men have double strength. + There! all's out now to leave or take, + And who mocks music mocks at love; + And when I'm crazy for love's sake + I'll not go far to choose. + +(_Snapping his fingers in_ SHEMUS' _face_.) + + Enough! + I know the heads that I shall break. + +(_He takes a step towards the door and then turns again._) + + Shut to the door before the night has fallen, + For who can say what walks, or in what shape + Some devilish creature flies in the air, but now + Two grey-horned owls hooted above our heads. + +(_He goes out, his singing dies away._ MARY _comes in_. SHEMUS _has been +counting the money._) + + SHEMUS + + So that fool's gone. + + TEIG + + He's seen the horned owls too. + There's no good luck in owls, but it may be + That the ill luck's to fall upon his head. + + MARY + + You never thanked her ladyship. + + SHEMUS + + Thank her, + For seven halfpence and a silver bit? + + TEIG + + But for this empty purse? + + SHEMUS + + What's that for thanks, + Or what's the double of it that she promised? + With bread and flesh and every sort of food + Up to a price no man has heard the like of + And rising every day. + + MARY + + We have all she had; + She emptied out the purse before our eyes. + + SHEMUS (_to_ MARY, _who has gone to close the door_) + + Leave that door open. + + MARY + + When those that have read books, + And seen the seven wonders of the world, + Fear what's above or what's below the ground, + It's time that poverty should bolt the door. + + SHEMUS + + I'll have no bolts, for there is not a thing + That walks above the ground or under it + I had not rather welcome to this house + Than any more of mankind, rich or poor. + + TEIG + + So that they brought us money. + + SHEMUS + + I heard say + There's something that appears like a white bird, + A pigeon or a seagull or the like, + But if you hit it with a stone or a stick + It clangs as though it had been made of brass, + And that if you dig down where it was scratching + You'll find a crock of gold. + + TEIG + + But dream of gold + For three nights running, and there's always gold. + + SHEMUS + + You might be starved before you've dug it out. + + TEIG + + But maybe if you called, something would come, + They have been seen of late. + + MARY + + Is it call devils? + Call devils from the wood, call them in here? + + SHEMUS + + So you'd stand up against me, and you'd say + Who or what I am to welcome here. (_He hits her._) + That is to show who's master. + + TEIG + + Call them in. + + MARY + + God help us all! + + SHEMUS + + Pray, if you have a mind to. + It's little that the sleepy ears above + Care for your words; but I'll call what I please. + + TEIG + + There is many a one, they say, had money from them. + + SHEMUS (_at door_) + + Whatever you are that walk the woods at night, + So be it that you have not shouldered up + Out of a grave--for I'll have nothing human-- + And have free hands, a friendly trick of speech, + I welcome you. Come, sit beside the fire. + What matter if your head's below your arms + Or you've a horse's tail to whip your flank, + Feathers instead of hair, that's but a straw, + Come, share what bread and meat is in the house, + And stretch your heels and warm them in the ashes. + And after that, let's share and share alike + And curse all men and women. Come in, come in. + What, is there no one there? (_Turning from door_) + And yet they say + They are as common as the grass, and ride + Even upon the book in the priest's hand. + + (TEIG _lifts one arm slowly and points toward the door and begins + moving backwards_. SHEMUS _turns, he also sees something and begins + moving backward_. MARY _does the same. A man dressed as an Eastern + merchant comes in carrying a small carpet. He unrolls it and sits + cross-legged at one end of it. Another man dressed in the same way + follows, and sits at the other end. This is done slowly and + deliberately. When they are seated they take money out of + embroidered purses at their girdles and begin arranging it on the + carpet_.) + + TEIG + + You speak to them. + + SHEMUS + + No, you. + + TEIG + + 'Twas you that called them. + + SHEMUS (_coming nearer_) + + I'd make so bold, if you would pardon it, + To ask if there's a thing you'd have of us. + Although we are but poor people, if there is, + Why, if there is---- + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We've travelled a long road, + For we are merchants that must tramp the world, + And now we look for supper and a fire + And a safe corner to count money in. + + SHEMUS + + I thought you were ... but that's no matter now-- + There had been words between my wife and me + Because I said I would be master here, + And ask in what I pleased or who I pleased + And so.... but that is nothing to the point, + Because it's certain that you are but merchants. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We travel for the Master of all merchants. + + SHEMUS + + Yet if you were that I had thought but now + I'd welcome you no less. Be what you please + And you'll have supper at the market rate, + That means that what was sold for but a penny + Is now worth fifty. + +(MERCHANTS _begin putting money on carpet_.) + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Our Master bids us pay + So good a price, that all who deal with us + Shall eat, drink, and be merry. + + SHEMUS (_to_ MARY) + + Bestir yourself, + Go kill and draw the fowl, while Teig and I + Lay out the plates and make a better fire. + + MARY + + I will not cook for you. + + SHEMUS + + Not cook! not cook! + Do not be angry. She wants to pay me back + Because I struck her in that argument. + But she'll get sense again. Since the dearth came + We rattle one on another as though we were + Knives thrown into a basket to be cleaned. + + MARY + + I will not cook for you, because I know + In what unlucky shape you sat but now + Outside this door. + + TEIG + + It's this, your honours: + Because of some wild words my father said + She thinks you are not of those who cast a shadow. + + SHEMUS + + I said I'd make the devils of the wood + Welcome, if they'd a mind to eat and drink; + But it is certain that you are men like us. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + It's strange that she should think we cast no shadow, + For there is nothing on the ridge of the world + That's more substantial than the merchants are + That buy and sell you. + + MARY + + If you are not demons, + And seeing what great wealth is spread out there, + Give food or money to the starving poor. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + If we knew how to find deserving poor + We'd do our share. + + MARY + + But seek them patiently. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We know the evils of mere charity. + + MARY + + Those scruples may befit a common time. + I had thought there was a pushing to and fro, + At times like this, that overset the scale + And trampled measure down. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + But if already + We'd thought of a more prudent way than that? + + SECOND MERCHANT + + If each one brings a bit of merchandise, + We'll give him such a price he never dreamt of. + + MARY + + Where shall the starving come at merchandise? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We will ask nothing but what all men have. + + MARY + + Their swine and cattle, fields and implements + Are sold and gone. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + They have not sold all yet. + For there's a vaporous thing--that may be nothing, + But that's the buyer's risk--a second self, + They call immortal for a story's sake. + + SHEMUS + + They come to buy our souls? + + TEIG + + I'll barter mine. + Why should we starve for what may be but nothing? + + MARY + + Teig and Shemus---- + + SHEMUS + + What can it be but nothing? + What has God poured out of His bag but famine? + Satan gives money. + + TEIG + + Yet no thunder stirs. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + There is a heap for each. + +(SHEMUS _goes to take money_.) + + But no, not yet, + For there's a work I have to set you to. + + SHEMUS + + So then you're as deceitful as the rest, + And all that talk of buying what's but a vapour + Is fancy bread. I might have known as much, + Because that's how the trick-o'-the-loop man talks. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + That's for the work, each has its separate price; + But neither price is paid till the work's done. + + TEIG + + The same for me. + + MARY + + Oh, God, why are you still? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + You've but to cry aloud at every cross-road, + At every house door, that we buy men's souls. + And give so good a price that all may live + In mirth and comfort till the famine's done, + Because we are Christian men. + + SHEMUS + + Come, let's away. + + TEIG + + I shall keep running till I've earned the price. + + SECOND MERCHANT + +(_who has risen and gone towards fire_) + + Stop; you must have proof behind the words. + So here's your entertainment on the road. + +(_He throws a bag of money on the ground._) + + Live as you please; our Master's generous. + +(TEIG and SHEMUS _have stopped_. TEIG _takes the money. They go out._) + + MARY + + Destroyers of souls, God will destroy you quickly. + You shall at last dry like dry leaves and hang + Nailed like dead vermin to the doors of God. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Curse to your fill, for saints will have their dreams. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Though we're but vermin that our Master sent + To overrun the world, he at the end + Shall pull apart the pale ribs of the moon + And quench the stars in the ancestral night. + + MARY + + God is all powerful. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Pray, you shall need Him. + You shall eat dock and grass, and dandelion, + Till that low threshold there becomes a wall, + And when your hands can scarcely drag your body + We shall be near you. + +(MARY _faints_.) + +(_The_ FIRST MERCHANT _takes up the carpet, spreads it before the fire +and stands in front of it warming his hands_.) + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Our faces go unscratched, + Wring the neck o' that fowl, scatter the flour + And look if there is bread upon the shelves. + We'll turn the fowl upon the spit and roast it, + And eat the supper we were bidden to, + Now that the house is quiet, praise our Master, + And stretch and warm our heels among the ashes. + +END OF SCENE I. + + + + +SCENE II + + + FRONT SCENE.--_A wood with perhaps distant view of turreted house + at one side, but all in flat colour, without light and shade and + against a diapered or gold background._ + +COUNTESS CATHLEEN _comes in leaning upon_ ALEEL'S _arm_. OONA _follows +them_. + + CATHLEEN (_stopping_) + + Surely this leafy corner, where one smells + The wild bee's honey, has a story too? + + OONA + + There is the house at last. + + ALEEL + + A man, they say, + Loved Maeve the Queen of all the invisible host, + And died of his love nine centuries ago. + And now, when the moon's riding at the full, + She leaves her dancers lonely and lies there + Upon that level place, and for three days + Stretches and sighs and wets her long pale cheeks. + + CATHLEEN + + So she loves truly. + + ALEEL + + No, but wets her cheeks, + Lady, because she has forgot his name. + + CATHLEEN + + She'd sleep that trouble away--though it must be + A heavy trouble to forget his name-- + If she had better sense. + + OONA + + Your own house, lady. + + ALEEL + + She sleeps high up on wintry Knock-na-rea + In an old cairn of stones; while her poor women + Must lie and jog in the wave if they would sleep-- + Being water born--yet if she cry their names + They run up on the land and dance in the moon + Till they are giddy and would love as men do, + And be as patient and as pitiful. + But there is nothing that will stop in their heads + They've such poor memories, though they weep for it. + Oh, yes, they weep; that's when the moon is full. + + CATHLEEN + + Is it because they have short memories + They live so long? + + ALEEL + + What's memory but the ash + That chokes our fires that have begun to sink? + And they've a dizzy, everlasting fire. + + OONA + + There is your own house, lady. + + CATHLEEN + + Why, that's true, + And we'd have passed it without noticing. + + ALEEL + + A curse upon it for a meddlesome house! + Had it but stayed away I would have known + What Queen Maeve thinks on when the moon is pinched; + And whether now--as in the old days--the dancers + Set their brief love on men. + + OONA + + Rest on my arm. + These are no thoughts for any Christian ear. + + ALEEL + + I am younger, she would be too heavy for you. + +(_He begins taking his lute out of the bag_, CATHLEEN, _who has turned +towards_ OONA, _turns back to him_.) + + This hollow box remembers every foot + That danced upon the level grass of the world, + And will tell secrets if I whisper to it. + +(_Sings._) + + Lift up the white knee; + Hear what they sing, + Those young dancers + That in a ring + Raved but now + Of the hearts that brake + Long, long ago + For their sake. + + OONA + + New friends are sweet. + + ALEEL + + "But the dance changes. + Lift up the gown, + All that sorrow + Is trodden down." + + OONA + + The empty rattle-pate! Lean on this arm, + That I can tell you is a christened arm, + And not like some, if we are to judge by speech. + But as you please. It is time I was forgot. + Maybe it is not on this arm you slumbered + When you were as helpless as a worm. + + ALEEL + + Stay with me till we come to your own house. + + CATHLEEN (_sitting down_) + + When I am rested I will need no help. + + ALEEL + + I thought to have kept her from remembering + The evil of the times for full ten minutes; + But now when seven are out you come between. + + OONA + + Talk on; what does it matter what you say, + For you have not been christened? + + ALEEL + + Old woman, old woman, + You robbed her of three minutes peace of mind, + And though you live unto a hundred years, + And wash the feet of beggars and give alms, + And climb Croaghpatrick, you shall not be pardoned. + + OONA + + How does a man who never was baptized + Know what Heaven pardons? + + ALEEL + + You are a sinful woman. + + OONA + + I care no more than if a pig had grunted. + +(_Enter_ CATHLEEN'S _Steward_.) + + STEWARD + + I am not to blame, for I had locked the gate, + The forester's to blame. The men climbed in + At the east corner where the elm-tree is. + + CATHLEEN + + I do not understand you, who has climbed? + + STEWARD + + Then God be thanked, I am the first to tell you. + I was afraid some other of the servants-- + Though I've been on the watch--had been the first, + And mixed up truth and lies, your ladyship. + + CATHLEEN (_rising_) + + Has some misfortune happened? + + STEWARD + + Yes, indeed. + The forester that let the branches lie + Against the wall's to blame for everything, + For that is how the rogues got into the garden. + + CATHLEEN + + I thought to have escaped misfortune here. + Has any one been killed? + + STEWARD + + Oh, no, not killed. + They have stolen half a cart-load of green cabbage. + + CATHLEEN + + But maybe they were starving. + + STEWARD + + That is certain. + To rob or starve, that was the choice they had. + + CATHLEEN + + A learned theologian has laid down + That starving men may take what's necessary, + And yet be sinless. + + OONA + + Sinless and a thief! + There should be broken bottles on the wall. + + CATHLEEN + + And if it be a sin, while faith's unbroken + God cannot help but pardon. There is no soul + But it's unlike all others in the world, + Nor one but lifts a strangeness to God's love + Till that's grown infinite, and therefore none + Whose loss were less than irremediable + Although it were the wickedest in the world. + +(_Enter_ TEIG _and_ SHEMUS.) + + STEWARD + + What are you running for? Pull off your cap, + Do you not see who's there? + + SHEMUS + + I cannot wait. + I am running to the world with the best news + That has been brought it for a thousand years. + + STEWARD + + Then get your breath and speak. + + SHEMUS + + If you'd my news + You'd run as fast and be as out of breath. + + TEIG + + Such news, we shall be carried on men's shoulders. + + SHEMUS + + There's something every man has carried with him + And thought no more about than if it were + A mouthful of the wind; and now it's grown + A marketable thing! + + TEIG + + And yet it seemed + As useless as the paring of one's nails. + + SHEMUS + + What sets me laughing when I think of it, + Is that a rogue who's lain in lousy straw, + If he but sell it, may set up his coach. + + TEIG (_laughing_) + + There are two gentlemen who buy men's souls. + + CATHLEEN + + O God! + + TEIG + + And maybe there's no soul at all. + + STEWARD + + They're drunk or mad. + + TEIG + + Look at the price they give. + +(_Showing money._) + + SHEMUS (_tossing up money_) + + "Go cry it all about the world," they said. + "Money for souls, good money for a soul." + + CATHLEEN + + Give twice and thrice and twenty times their money, + And get your souls again. I will pay all. + + SHEMUS + + Not we! not we! For souls--if there are souls-- + But keep the flesh out of its merriment. + I shall be drunk and merry. + + TEIG + + Come, let's away. + +(_He goes._) + + CATHLEEN + + But there's a world to come. + + SHEMUS + + And if there is, + I'd rather trust myself into the hands + That can pay money down than to the hands + That have but shaken famine from the bag. + +(_He goes out_ R.) + +(_Lilting_) + + "There's money for a soul, sweet yellow money. + There's money for men's souls, good money, money." + + CATHLEEN (_to_ ALEEL) + + Go call them here again, bring them by force, + Beseech them, bribe, do anything you like; + +(ALEEL _goes_.) + + And you too follow, add your prayers to his. + +(OONA, _who has been praying, goes out_.) + + Steward, you know the secrets of my house. + How much have I? + + STEWARD + + A hundred kegs of gold. + + CATHLEEN + + How much have I in castles? + + STEWARD + + As much more. + + CATHLEEN + + How much have I in pasture? + + STEWARD + + As much more. + + CATHLEEN + + How much have I in forests? + + STEWARD + + As much more. + + CATHLEEN + + Keeping this house alone, sell all I have, + Go barter where you please, but come again + With herds of cattle and with ships of meal. + + STEWARD + + God's blessing light upon your ladyship. + You will have saved the land. + + CATHLEEN + + Make no delay. + +(_He goes_ L.) + +(ALEEL _and_ OONA _return_) + + CATHLEEN + + They have not come; speak quickly. + + ALEEL + + One drew his knife + And said that he would kill the man or woman + That stopped his way; and when I would have stopped him + He made this stroke at me; but it is nothing. + + CATHLEEN + + You shall be tended. From this day for ever + I'll have no joy or sorrow of my own. + + OONA + + Their eyes shone like the eyes of birds of prey. + + CATHLEEN + + Come, follow me, for the earth burns my feet + Till I have changed my house to such a refuge + That the old and ailing, and all weak of heart, + May escape from beak and claw; all, all, shall come + Till the walls burst and the roof fall on us. + From this day out I have nothing of my own. + +(_She goes._) + + OONA (_taking_ ALEEL _by the arm and as she speaks bandaging his wound_) + + She has found something now to put her hand to, + And you and I are of no more account + Than flies upon a window-pane in the winter. + +(_They go out._) + +END OF SCENE II. + + + + +SCENE III + + + SCENE.--_Hall in the house of_ COUNTESS CATHLEEN. _At the Left an + oratory with steps leading up to it. At the Right a tapestried + wall, more or less repeating the form of the oratory, and a great + chair with its back against the wall. In the Centre are two or more + arches through which one can see dimly the trees of the garden._ + CATHLEEN _is kneeling in front of the altar in the oratory; there + is a hanging lighted lamp over the altar_. ALEEL _enters_. + + ALEEL + + I have come to bid you leave this castle and fly + Out of these woods. + + CATHLEEN + + What evil is there here + That is not everywhere from this to the sea? + + ALEEL + + They who have sent me walk invisible. + + CATHLEEN + + So it is true what I have heard men say, + That you have seen and heard what others cannot. + + ALEEL + + I was asleep in my bed, and while I slept + My dream became a fire; and in the fire + One walked and he had birds about his head. + + CATHLEEN + + I have heard that one of the old gods walked so. + + ALEEL + + It may be that he is angelical; + And, lady, he bids me call you from these woods. + And you must bring but your old foster-mother, + And some few serving men, and live in the hills, + Among the sounds of music and the light + Of waters, till the evil days are done. + For here some terrible death is waiting you, + Some unimagined evil, some great darkness + That fable has not dreamt of, nor sun nor moon + Scattered. + + CATHLEEN + + No, not angelical. + + ALEEL + + This house + You are to leave with some old trusty man, + And bid him shelter all that starve or wander + While there is food and house room. + + CATHLEEN + + He bids me go + Where none of mortal creatures but the swan + Dabbles, and there you would pluck the harp, when the trees + Had made a heavy shadow about our door, + And talk among the rustling of the reeds, + When night hunted the foolish sun away + With stillness and pale tapers. No--no--no! + I cannot. Although I weep, I do not weep + Because that life would be most happy, and here + I find no way, no end. Nor do I weep + Because I had longed to look upon your face, + But that a night of prayer has made me weary. + + ALEEL (_prostrating himself before her_) + + Let Him that made mankind, the angels and devils + And dearth and plenty, mend what He has made, + For when we labour in vain and eye still sees + Heart breaks in vain. + + CATHLEEN + + How would that quiet end? + + ALEEL + + How but in healing? + + CATHLEEN + + You have seen my tears + And I can see your hand shake on the floor. + + ALEEL (_faltering_) + + I thought but of healing. He was angelical. + + CATHLEEN (_turning away from him_) + + No, not angelical, but of the old gods, + Who wander about the world to waken the heart-- + The passionate, proud heart--that all the angels, + Leaving nine heavens empty, would rock to sleep. + +(_She goes to chapel door;_ ALEEL _holds his clasped hands towards her +for a moment hesitatingly, and then lets them fall beside him_.) + + CATHLEEN + + Do not hold out to me beseeching hands. + This heart shall never waken on earth. I have sworn, + By her whose heart the seven sorrows have pierced, + To pray before this altar until my heart + Has grown to Heaven like a tree, and there + Rustled its leaves, till Heaven has saved my people. + + ALEEL (_who has risen_) + + When one so great has spoken of love to one + So little as I, though to deny him love, + What can he but hold out beseeching hands, + Then let them fall beside him, knowing how greatly + They have overdared? + +(_He goes towards the door of the hall._ _The_ COUNTESS CATHLEEN _takes +a few steps towards him_.) + + CATHLEEN + + If the old tales are true, + Queens have wed shepherds and kings beggar-maids; + God's procreant waters flowing about your mind + Have made you more than kings or queens; and not you + But I am the empty pitcher. + + ALEEL + + Being silent, + I have said all, yet let me stay beside you. + + CATHLEEN + + No, no, not while my heart is shaken. No, + But you shall hear wind cry and water cry, + And curlew cry, and have the peace I longed for. + + ALEEL + + Give me your hand to kiss. + + CATHLEEN + + I kiss your forehead. + And yet I send you from me. Do not speak; + There have been women that bid men to rob + Crowns from the Country-under-Wave or apples + Upon a dragon-guarded hill, and all + That they might sift men's hearts and wills, + And trembled as they bid it, as I tremble + That lay a hard task on you, that you go, + And silently, and do not turn your head; + Goodbye; but do not turn your head and look; + Above all else, I would not have you look. + +(ALEEL _goes_.) + + I never spoke to him of his wounded hand, + And now he is gone. (_She looks out._) + I cannot see him, for all is dark outside. + Would my imagination and my heart + Were as little shaken as this holy flame! + +(_She goes slowly into the chapel. The distant sound of an alarm bell._ +_The two_ MERCHANTS _enter hurriedly_.) + + SECOND MERCHANT + + They are ringing the alarm, and in a moment + They'll be upon us. + + FIRST MERCHANT (_going to a door at the side_) + + Here is the Treasury, + You'd my commands to put them all to sleep. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Some angel or else her prayers protected them. + +(_Goes into the Treasury and returns with bags of treasure._ FIRST +MERCHANT _has been listening at the oratory door_.) + + FIRST MERCHANT + + She has fallen asleep. + +(SECOND MERCHANT _goes out through one of the arches at the back and +stands listening. The bags are at his feet._) + + SECOND MERCHANT + + We've all the treasure now, + So let's away before they've tracked us out. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + I have a plan to win her. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + You have time enough + If you would kill her and bear off her soul + Before they are upon us with their prayers; + They search the Western Tower. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + That may not be. + We cannot face the heavenly host in arms. + Her soul must come to us of its own will, + But being of the ninth and mightiest Hell + Where all are kings, I have a plan to win it. + Lady, we've news that's crying out for speech. + +(CATHLEEN _wakes and comes to door of chapel_.) + + CATHLEEN + + Who calls? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We have brought news. + + CATHLEEN + + What are you? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We are merchants, and we know the book of the world + Because we have walked upon its leaves; and there + Have read of late matters that much concern you; + And noticing the castle door stand open, + Came in to find an ear. + + CATHLEEN + + The door stands open, + That no one who is famished or afraid, + Despair of help or of a welcome with it. + But you have news, you say. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We saw a man, + Heavy with sickness in the bog of Allen, + Whom you had bid buy cattle. Near Fair Head + We saw your grain ships lying all becalmed + In the dark night; and not less still than they, + Burned all their mirrored lanthorns in the sea. + + CATHLEEN + + My thanks to God, to Mary and the angels, + That I have money in my treasury, + And can buy grain from those who have stored it up + To prosper on the hunger of the poor. + But you've been far and know the signs of things, + When will this famine end? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Day copies day, + And there's no sign of change, nor can it change, + With the wheat withered and the cattle dead. + + CATHLEEN + + And heard you of the demons who buy souls? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + There are some men who hold they have wolves' heads, + And say their limbs--dried by the infinite flame-- + Have all the speed of storms; others, again, + Say they are gross and little; while a few + Will have it they seem much as mortals are, + But tall and brown and travelled--like us, lady-- + Yet all agree a power is in their looks + That makes men bow, and flings a casting-net + About their souls, and that all men would go + And barter those poor vapours, were it not + You bribe them with the safety of your gold. + + CATHLEEN + + Praise be to God, to Mary, and the angels + That I am wealthy! Wherefore do they sell? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + As we came in at the great door we saw + Your porter sleeping in his niche--a soul + Too little to be worth a hundred pence, + And yet they buy it for a hundred crowns. + But for a soul like yours, I heard them say, + They would give five hundred thousand crowns and more. + + CATHLEEN + + How can a heap of crowns pay for a soul? + Is the green grave so terrible a thing? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Some sell because the money gleams, and some + Because they are in terror of the grave, + And some because their neighbours sold before, + And some because there is a kind of joy + In casting hope away, in losing joy, + In ceasing all resistance, in at last + Opening one's arms to the eternal flames, + In casting all sails out upon the wind; + To this--full of the gaiety of the lost-- + Would all folk hurry if your gold were gone. + + CATHLEEN + + There is a something, Merchant, in your voice + That makes me fear. When you were telling how + A man may lose his soul and lose his God + Your eyes were lighted up, and when you told + How my poor money serves the people, both-- + Merchants forgive me--seemed to smile. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + I laugh + To think that all these people should be swung + As on a lady's shoe-string,--under them + The glowing leagues of never-ending flame. + + CATHLEEN + + There is a something in you that I fear; + A something not of us; were you not born + In some most distant corner of the world? + +(_The_ SECOND MERCHANT, _who has been listening at the door, comes +forward, and as he comes a sound of voices and feet is heard_.) + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Away now--they are in the passage--hurry, + For they will know us, and freeze up our hearts + With Ave Marys, and burn all our skin + With holy water. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Farewell; for we must ride + Many a mile before the morning come; + Our horses beat the ground impatiently. + +(_They go out._ _A number of_ PEASANTS _enter by other door_.) + + FIRST PEASANT + + Forgive us, lady, but we heard a noise. + + SECOND PEASANT + + We sat by the fireside telling vanities. + + FIRST PEASANT + + We heard a noise, but though we have searched the house + We have found nobody. + + CATHLEEN + + You are too timid, + For now you are safe from all the evil times, + There is no evil that can find you here. + + OONA (_entering hurriedly_) + + Ochone! Ochone! The treasure room is broken in. + The door stands open, and the gold is gone. + +(PEASANTS _raise a lamentable cry_.) + + CATHLEEN + + Be silent. (_The cry ceases._) Have you seen nobody? + + OONA + + Ochone! + That my good mistress should lose all this money. + + CATHLEEN + + Let those among you--not too old to ride-- + Get horses and search all the country round, + I'll give a farm to him who finds the thieves. + +(_A man with keys at his girdle has come in while she speaks. There is a +general murmur of "The porter! the porter!"_) + + PORTER + + Demons were here. I sat beside the door + In my stone niche, and two owls passed me by, + Whispering with human voices. + + OLD PEASANT + + God forsakes us. + + CATHLEEN + + Old man, old man, He never closed a door + Unless one opened. I am desolate, + Because of a strange thought that's in my heart; + But I have still my faith; therefore be silent; + For surely He does not forsake the world, + But stands before it modelling in the clay + And moulding there His image. Age by age + The clay wars with His fingers and pleads hard + For its old, heavy, dull and shapeless ease; + But sometimes--though His hand is on it still-- + It moves awry and demon hordes are born. + +(PEASANTS _cross themselves_.) + + Yet leave me now, for I am desolate, + I hear a whisper from beyond the thunder. + +(_She comes from the oratory door._) + + Yet stay an instant. When we meet again + I may have grown forgetful. Oona, take + These two--the larder and the dairy keys. + +(_To the_ PORTER.) + + But take you this. It opens the small room + Of herbs for medicine, of hellebore, + Of vervain, monkshood, plantain, and self-heal. + The book of cures is on the upper shelf. + + PORTER + + Why do you do this, lady; did you see + Your coffin in a dream? + + CATHLEEN + + Ah, no, not that. + But I have come to a strange thought. I have heard + A sound of wailing in unnumbered hovels, + And I must go down, down--I know not where-- + Pray for all men and women mad from famine; + Pray, you good neighbours. + +(_The_ PEASANTS _all kneel_. COUNTESS CATHLEEN _ascends the steps to the +door of the oratory, and turning round stands there motionless for a +little, and then cries in a loud voice_:) + + Mary, Queen of angels, + And all you clouds on clouds of saints, farewell! + +END OF SCENE III. + + + + +SCENE IV + + + SCENE.--_A wood near the Castle, as in Scene II. A group of_ + PEASANTS _pass_. + + FIRST PEASANT + + I have seen silver and copper, but not gold. + + SECOND PEASANT + + It's yellow and it shines. + + FIRST PEASANT + + It's beautiful. + The most beautiful thing under the sun, + That's what I've heard. + + THIRD PEASANT + + I have seen gold enough. + + FOURTH PEASANT + + I would not say that it's so beautiful. + + FIRST PEASANT + + But doesn't a gold piece glitter like the sun? + That's what my father, who'd seen better days, + Told me when I was but a little boy-- + So high--so high, it's shining like the sun, + Round and shining, that is what he said. + + SECOND PEASANT + + There's nothing in the world it cannot buy. + + FIRST PEASANT + + They've bags and bags of it. + +(_They go out._ _The two_ MERCHANTS _follow silently_. _Then_ ALEEL +_passes over the stage singing_.) + + ALEEL + + Impetuous heart be still, be still, + Your sorrowful love can never be told, + Cover it up with a lonely tune. + He who could bend all things to His will + Has covered the door of the infinite fold + With the pale stars and the wandering moon. + +END OF SCENE IV. + + + + +SCENE V + + + SCENE.--_The house of_ SHEMUS RUA. _There is an alcove at the back + with curtains; in it a bed, and on the bed is the body of_ MARY + _with candles round it_. _The two_ MERCHANTS _while they speak put + a large book upon a table, arrange money, and so on_. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Thanks to that lie I told about her ships + And that about the herdsman lying sick, + We shall be too much thronged with souls to-morrow. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + What has she in her coffers now but mice? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + When the night fell and I had shaped myself + Into the image of the man-headed owl, + I hurried to the cliffs of Donegal, + And saw with all their canvas full of wind + And rushing through the parti-coloured sea + Those ships that bring the woman grain and meal. + They're but three days from us. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + When the dew rose + I hurried in like feathers to the east, + And saw nine hundred oxen driven through Meath + With goads of iron. They're but three days from us. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Three days for traffic. + +(PEASANTS _crowd in with_ TEIG _and_ SHEMUS.) + + SHEMUS + + Come in, come in, you are welcome. + That is my wife. She mocked at my great masters, + And would not deal with them. Now there she is; + She does not even know she was a fool, + So great a fool she was. + + TEIG + + She would not eat + One crumb of bread bought with our master's money, + But lived on nettles, dock, and dandelion. + + SHEMUS + + There's nobody could put into her head + That Death is the worst thing can happen us. + Though that sounds simple, for her tongue grew rank + With all the lies that she had heard in chapel. + Draw to the curtain. (TEIG _draws it_.) You'll not play the fool + While these good gentlemen are there to save you. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Since the drought came they drift about in a throng, + Like autumn leaves blown by the dreary winds. + Come, deal--come, deal. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Who will come deal with us? + + SHEMUS + + They are out of spirit, sir, with lack of food, + Save four or five. Here, sir, is one of these; + The others will gain courage in good time. + + MIDDLE-AGED-MAN + + I come to deal--if you give honest price. + + FIRST MERCHANT (_reading in a book_) + + "John Maher, a man of substance, with dull mind, + And quiet senses and unventurous heart. + The angels think him safe." Two hundred crowns, + All for a soul, a little breath of wind. + + THE MAN + + I ask three hundred crowns. You have read there + That no mere lapse of days can make me yours. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + There is something more writ here--"Often at night + He is wakeful from a dread of growing poor, + And thereon wonders if there's any man + That he could rob in safety." + + A PEASANT + + Who'd have thought it? + And I was once alone with him at midnight. + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + I will not trust my mother after this. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + There is this crack in you--two hundred crowns. + + A PEASANT + + That's plenty for a rogue. + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + I'd give him nothing. + + SHEMUS + + You'll get no more--so take what's offered you. + +(_A general murmur, during which the_ MIDDLE-AGED MAN _takes money, and +slips into background, where he sinks on to a seat_.) + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Has no one got a better soul than that? + If only for the credit of your parishes, + Traffic with us. + + A WOMAN + + What will you give for mine? + + FIRST MERCHANT (_reading in book_) + + "Soft, handsome, and still young"--not much, I think. + "It's certain that the man she's married to + Knows nothing of what's hidden in the jar + Between the hour-glass and the pepper-pot." + + THE WOMAN + + The scandalous book. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + "Nor how when he's away + At the horse fair the hand that wrote what's hid + Will tap three times upon the window-pane." + + THE WOMAN + + And if there is a letter, that is no reason + Why I should have less money than the others. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + You're almost safe, I give you fifty crowns. + +(_She turns to go._) + + A hundred, then. + + SHEMUS + + Woman, have sense--come, come. + Is this a time to haggle at the price? + There, take it up. There, there. That's right. + +(_She takes them and goes into the crowd._) + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Come, deal, deal, deal. It is but for charity + We buy such souls at all; a thousand sins + Made them our Master's long before we came. + +(ALEEL _enters_.) + + ALEEL + + Here, take my soul, for I am tired of it. + I do not ask a price. + + SHEMUS + + Not ask a price? + How can you sell your soul without a price? + I would not listen to his broken wits; + His love for Countess Cathleen has so crazed him + He hardly understands what he is saying. + + ALEEL + + The trouble that has come on Countess Cathleen, + The sorrow that is in her wasted face, + The burden in her eyes, have broke my wits, + And yet I know I'd have you take my soul. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We cannot take your soul, for it is hers. + + ALEEL + + No, but you must. Seeing it cannot help her + I have grown tired of it. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Begone from me, + I may not touch it. + + ALEEL + + Is your power so small? + And must I bear it with me all my days? + May you be scorned and mocked! + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Drag him away. + He troubles me. + +(TEIG _and_ SHEMUS _lead_ ALEEL _into the crowd_.) + + SECOND MERCHANT + + His gaze has filled me, brother, + With shaking and a dreadful fear. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Lean forward + And kiss the circlet where my Master's lips + Were pressed upon it when he sent us hither; + You shall have peace once more. + +(SECOND MERCHANT _kisses the gold circlet that is about the head of the_ +FIRST MERCHANT.) + + I, too, grow weary, + But there is something moving in my heart + Whereby I know that what we seek the most + Is drawing near--our labour will soon end. + Come, deal, deal, deal, deal, deal; are you all dumb? + What, will you keep me from our ancient home, + And from the eternal revelry? + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Deal, deal. + + SHEMUS + + They say you beat the woman down too low. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + I offer this great price: a thousand crowns + For an old woman who was always ugly. + +(_An old_ PEASANT WOMAN _comes forward, and he takes up a book and +reads_:) + + There is but little set down here against her. + "She has stolen eggs and fowl when times were bad, + But when the times grew better has confessed it; + She never missed her chapel of a Sunday + And when she could, paid dues." Take up your money. + + OLD WOMAN + + God bless you, sir. (_She screams._) Oh, sir, a pain went through me! + + FIRST MERCHANT + + That name is like a fire to all damned souls. + +(_Murmur among the_ PEASANTS, _who shrink back from her as she goes +out_.) + + A PEASANT + + How she screamed out! + + SECOND PEASANT + + And maybe we shall scream so. + + THIRD PEASANT + + I tell you there is no such place as hell. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Can such a trifle turn you from your profit? + Come, deal; come, deal. + + MIDDLE-AGED MAN + + Master, I am afraid. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + I bought your soul, and there's no sense in fear + Now the soul's gone. + + MIDDLE-AGED MAN + + Give me my soul again. + + WOMAN (_going on her knees and clinging to_ + MERCHANT) + + And take this money too, and give me mine. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Bear bastards, drink or follow some wild fancy; + For sighs and cries are the soul's work, + And you have none. + +(_Throws the woman off._) + + PEASANT + + Come, let's away. + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + Yes, yes. + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + Come quickly; if that woman had not screamed + I would have lost my soul. + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + Come, come away. + +(_They turn to door, but are stopped by shouts of "Countess Cathleen! +Countess Cathleen!"_) + + CATHLEEN (_entering_) + + And so you trade once more? + + FIRST MERCHANT + + In spite of you. + What brings you here, saint with the sapphire eyes? + + CATHLEEN + + I come to barter a soul for a great price. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + What matter, if the soul be worth the price? + + CATHLEEN + + The people starve, therefore the people go + Thronging to you. I hear a cry come from them + And it is in my ears by night and day, + And I would have five hundred thousand crowns + That I may feed them till the dearth go by. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + It may be the soul's worth it. + + CATHLEEN + + There is more: + The souls that you have bought must be set free. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We know of but one soul that's worth the price. + + CATHLEEN + + Being my own it seems a priceless thing. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + You offer us---- + + CATHLEEN + + I offer my own soul. + + A PEASANT + + Do not, do not, for souls the like of ours + Are not precious to God as your soul is. + O! what would Heaven do without you, lady? + + ANOTHER PEASANT + + Look how their claws clutch in their leathern gloves. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Five hundred thousand crowns; we give the price. + The gold is here; the souls even while you speak + Have slipped out of our bond, because your face + Has shed a light on them and filled their hearts. + But you must sign, for we omit no form + In buying a soul like yours. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Sign with this quill + It was a feather growing on the cock + That crowed when Peter dared deny his Master, + And all who use it have great honour in Hell. + +(CATHLEEN _leans forward to sign_.) + + ALEEL (_rushing forward and snatching the + pen from her_) + + Leave all things to the builder of the heavens. + + CATHLEEN + + I have no thoughts; I hear a cry--a cry. + + ALEEL (_casting the pen on the ground_) + + I have seen a vision under a green hedge, + A hedge of hips and haws--men yet shall hear + The Archangels rolling Satan's empty skull + Over the mountain-tops. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + Take him away. + +(TEIG _and_ SHEMUS _drag him roughly away so that he falls upon the +floor among the_ PEASANTS. CATHLEEN _picks up parchment and signs, then +turns towards the_ PEASANTS.) + + CATHLEEN + + Take up the money, and now come with me; + When we are far from this polluted place + I will give everybody money enough. + +(_She goes out, the_ PEASANTS _crowding round her and kissing her +dress_. ALEEL _and the two_ MERCHANTS _are left alone_.) + + SECOND MERCHANT + + We must away and wait until she dies, + Sitting above her tower as two grey owls, + Waiting as many years as may be, guarding + Our precious jewel; waiting to seize her soul. + + FIRST MERCHANT + + We need but hover over her head in the air, + For she has only minutes. When she signed + Her heart began to break. Hush, hush, I hear + The brazen door of Hell move on its hinges, + And the eternal revelry float hither + To hearten us. + + SECOND MERCHANT + + Leap feathered on the air + And meet them with her soul caught in your claws. + +(_They rush out._ ALEEL _crawls into the middle of the room_. _The +twilight has fallen and gradually darkens as the scene goes on. There is +a distant muttering of thunder and a sound of rising storm._) + + ALEEL + + The brazen door stands wide, and Balor comes + Borne in his heavy car, and demons have lifted + The age-weary eyelids from the eyes that of old + Turned gods to stone; Barach, the traitor, comes + And the lascivious race, Cailitin, + That cast a druid weakness and decay + Over Sualtem's and old Dectera's child; + And that great king Hell first took hold upon + When he killed Naisi and broke Deirdre's heart + And all their heads are twisted to one side, + For when they lived they warred on beauty and peace + With obstinate, crafty, sidelong bitterness. + +(_He moves about as though the air above him was full of spirits_. OONA +_enters_.) + + Crouch down, old heron, out of the blind storm. + + OONA + + Where is the Countess Cathleen? All this day + Her eyes were full of tears, and when for a moment + Her hand was laid upon my hand it trembled, + And now I do not know where she is gone. + + ALEEL + + Cathleen has chosen other friends than us, + And they are rising through the hollow world. + Demons are out, old heron. + + OONA + + God guard her soul. + + ALEEL + + She's bartered it away this very hour, + As though we two were never in the world. + +(_He points downward._) + + First, Orchill, her pale, beautiful head + Her body shadowy as vapour drifting + Under the dawn, for she who awoke desire + Has but a heart of blood when others die; + About her is a vapoury multitude + Of women alluring devils with soft laughter; + Behind her a host heat of the blood made sin, + But all the little pink-white nails have grown + To be great talons. + +(_He seizes_ OONA _and drags her into the middle of the room and points +downward with vehement gestures_. _The wind roars._) + + They begin a song + And there is still some music on their tongues. + + OONA (_casting herself face downwards on the floor_) + + O, Maker of all, protect her from the demons, + And if a soul must need be lost, take mine. + +(ALEEL _kneels beside her, but does not seem to hear her words_. _The_ +PEASANTS _return_. _They carry the_ COUNTESS CATHLEEN _and lay her upon +the ground before_ OONA _and_ ALEEL. _She lies there as if dead._) + + OONA + + O, that so many pitchers of rough clay + Should prosper and the porcelain break in two! + + (_She kisses the hands of_ CATHLEEN.) + + A PEASANT + + We were under the tree where the path turns, + When she grew pale as death and fainted away. + And while we bore her hither cloudy gusts + Blackened the world and shook us on our feet; + Draw the great bolt, for no man has beheld + So black, bitter, blinding, and sudden a storm. + +(_One who is near the door draws the bolt._) + + CATHLEEN + + O, hold me, and hold me tightly, for the storm + Is dragging me away. + +(OONA _takes her in her arms_. A WOMAN _begins to wail_.) + + PEASANT + + Hush! + + PEASANTS + + Hush! + + PEASANT WOMEN + + Hush! + + OTHER PEASANT WOMEN + + Hush! + + CATHLEEN (_half rising_) + + Lay all the bags of money in a heap, + And when I am gone, old Oona, share them out + To every man and woman: judge, and give + According to their needs. + + A PEASANT WOMAN + + And will she give + Enough to keep my children through the dearth? + + ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN + + O, Queen of Heaven, and all you blessed saints, + Let us and ours be lost so she be shriven. + + CATHLEEN + + Bend down your faces, Oona and Aleel; + I gaze upon them as the swallow gazes + Upon the nest under the eave, before + She wander the loud waters. Do not weep + Too great a while, for there is many a candle + On the High Altar though one fall. Aleel, + Who sang about the dancers of the woods, + That know not the hard burden of the world, + Having but breath in their kind bodies, farewell! + And farewell, Oona, you who played with me, + And bore me in your arms about the house + When I was but a child and therefore happy, + Therefore happy, even like those that dance. + The storm is in my hair and I must go. + +(_She dies._) + + OONA + + Bring me the looking-glass. + +(A WOMAN _brings it to her out of the inner room_. OONA _holds it over +the lips of_ CATHLEEN. _All is silent for a moment. And then she speaks +in a half scream_:) + + O, she is dead! + + A PEASANT + + She was the great white lily of the world. + + A PEASANT + + She was more beautiful than the pale stars. + + AN OLD PEASANT WOMAN + + The little plant I love is broken in two. + +(ALEEL _takes looking-glass from_ OONA _and flings it upon the floor so +that it is broken in many pieces_.) + + ALEEL + + I shatter you in fragments, for the face + That brimmed you up with beauty is no more: + And die, dull heart, for she whose mournful words + Made you a living spirit has passed away + And left you but a ball of passionate dust. + And you, proud earth and plumy sea, fade out! + For you may hear no more her faltering feet, + But are left lonely amid the clamorous war + Of angels upon devils. + +(_He stands up; almost every one is kneeling, but it has grown so dark +that only confused forms can be seen._) + + And I who weep + Call curses on you, Time and Fate and Change, + And have no excellent hope but the great hour + When you shall plunge headlong through bottomless space. + +(_A flash of lightning followed immediately by thunder._) + + A PEASANT WOMAN + + Pull him upon his knees before his curses + Have plucked thunder and lightning on our heads. + + ALEEL + + Angels and devils clash in the middle air, + And brazen swords clang upon brazen helms. + +(_A flash of lightning followed immediately by thunder._) + + Yonder a bright spear, cast out of a sling, + Has torn through Balor's eye, and the dark clans + Fly screaming as they fled Moytura of old. + +(_Everything is lost in darkness._) + + AN OLD MAN + + The Almighty wrath at our great weakness and sin + Has blotted out the world and we must die. + +(_The darkness is broken by a visionary light. The_ PEASANTS _seem to be +kneeling upon the_ _rocky slope of a mountain, and vapour full of storm +and ever-changing light is sweeping above them and behind them. Half in +the light, half in the shadow, stand armed angels. Their armour is old +and worn, and their drawn swords dim and dinted. They stand as if upon +the air in formation of battle and look downward with stern faces. The_ +PEASANTS _cast themselves on the ground_.) + + ALEEL + + Look no more on the half-closed gates of Hell, + But speak to me, whose mind is smitten of God, + That it may be no more with mortal things, + And tell of her who lies there. + +(_He seizes one of the angels._) + + Till you speak + You shall not drift into eternity. + + THE ANGEL + + The light beats down; the gates of pearl are wide + And she is passing to the floor of peace, + And Mary of the seven times wounded heart + Has kissed her lips, and the long blessed hair + Has fallen on her face; The Light of Lights + Looks always on the motive, not the deed, + The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone. + +(ALEEL _releases the_ ANGEL _and kneels_.) + + OONA + + Tell them who walk upon the floor of peace + That I would die and go to her I love; + The years like great black oxen tread the world, + And God the herdsman goads them on behind + And I am broken by their passing feet. + +(_A sound of far-off horns seems to come from the heart of the Light. +The vision melts away, and the forms of the kneeling_ PEASANTS _appear +faintly in the darkness_.) + + + + +THE ROSE + + + "_Sero te amavi, Pulchritudo tam antiqua et tam nova! Sero te + amavi._" + + S. AUGUSTINE. + + +TO LIONEL JOHNSON + + +TO THE ROSE UPON THE ROOD OF TIME + + + _Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days! + Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways: + Cuchulain battling with the bitter tide; + The Druid, gray, wood-nurtured, quiet-eyed, + Who cast round Fergus dreams, and ruin untold; + And thine own sadness, whereof stars, grown old + In dancing silver sandalled on the sea, + Sing in their high and lonely melody. + Come near, that no more blinded by man's fate, + I find under the boughs of love and hate, + In all poor foolish things that live a day, + Eternal beauty wandering on her way._ + + _Come near, come near, come near--Ah, leave me still + A little space for the rose-breath to fill! + Lest I no more hear common things that crave; + The weak worm hiding down in its small cave,_ + _The field mouse running by me in the grass, + And heavy mortal hopes that toil and pass; + But seek alone to hear the strange things said + By God to the bright hearts of those long dead, + And learn to chaunt a tongue men do not know. + Come near; I would, before my time to go, + Sing of old Eire and the ancient ways: + Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days._ + + +FERGUS AND THE DRUID + + + FERGUS + + The whole day have I followed in the rocks, + And you have changed and flowed from shape to shape. + First as a raven on whose ancient wings + Scarcely a feather lingered, then you seemed + A weasel moving on from stone to stone, + And now at last you wear a human shape, + A thin gray man half lost in gathering night. + + DRUID + + What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings? + + FERGUS + + This would I say, most wise of living souls: + Young subtle Concobar sat close by me + When I gave judgment, and his words were wise, + And what to me was burden without end, + To him seemed easy, so I laid the crown + Upon his head to cast away my care. + + DRUID + + What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings? + + FERGUS + + I feast amid my people on the hill, + And pace the woods, and drive my chariot wheels + In the white border of the murmuring sea; + And still I feel the crown upon my head. + + DRUID + + What would you? + + FERGUS + + I would be no more a king + But learn the dreaming wisdom that is yours. + + DRUID + + Look on my thin gray hair and hollow cheeks + And on these hands that may not lift the sword + This body trembling like a wind-blown reed. + No woman loves me, no man seeks my help, + Because I be not of the things I dream. + + FERGUS + + A wild and foolish labourer is a king, + To do and do and do, and never dream. + + DRUID + + Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams; + Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round. + + FERGUS + + I see my life go dripping like a stream + From change to change; I have been many things, + A green drop in the surge, a gleam of light + Upon a sword, a fir-tree on a hill, + An old slave grinding at a heavy quern, + A king sitting upon a chair of gold, + And all these things were wonderful and great; + But now I have grown nothing, being all, + And the whole world weighs down upon my heart: + Ah! Druid, Druid, how great webs of sorrow + Lay hidden in the small slate-coloured bag! + + +THE DEATH OF CUCHULAIN + + + A man came slowly from the setting sun, + To Forgail's daughter, Emer, in her dun, + And found her dyeing cloth with subtle care, + And said, casting aside his draggled hair: + "I am Aleel, the swineherd, whom you bid + "Go dwell upon the sea cliffs, vapour hid; + "But now my years of watching are no more." + + Then Emer cast the web upon the floor, + And stretching out her arms, red with the dye, + Parted her lips with a loud sudden cry. + + Looking on her, Aleel, the swineherd, said: + "Not any god alive, nor mortal dead, + "Has slain so mighty armies, so great kings, + "Nor won the gold that now Cuchulain brings." + + "Why do you tremble thus from feet to crown?" + + Aleel, the swineherd, wept and cast him down + Upon the web-heaped floor, and thus his word: + "With him is one sweet-throated like a bird." + + "Who bade you tell these things?" and then she cried + To those about, "Beat him with thongs of hide + "And drive him from the door." + + And thus it was: + And where her son, Finmole, on the smooth grass + Was driving cattle, came she with swift feet, + And called out to him, "Son, it is not meet + "That you stay idling here with flocks and herds." + + "I have long waited, mother, for those words: + "But wherefore now?" + + "There is a man to die; + "You have the heaviest arm under the sky." + + "My father dwells among the sea-worn bands, + "And breaks the ridge of battle with his hands." + + "Nay, you are taller than Cuchulain, son." + + "He is the mightiest man in ship or dun." + + "Nay, he is old and sad with many wars, + "And weary of the crash of battle cars." + + "I only ask what way my journey lies, + "For God, who made you bitter, made you wise." + + "The Red Branch kings a tireless banquet keep, + "Where the sun falls into the Western deep. + "Go there, and dwell on the green forest rim; + "But tell alone your name and house to him + "Whose blade compels, and bid them send you one + "Who has a like vow from their triple dun." + + Between the lavish shelter of a wood + And the gray tide, the Red Branch multitude + Feasted, and with them old Cuchulain dwelt, + And his young dear one close beside him knelt, + And gazed upon the wisdom of his eyes, + More mournful than the depth of starry skies, + And pondered on the wonder of his days; + And all around the harp-string told his praise, + And Concobar, the Red Branch king of kings, + With his own fingers touched the brazen strings. + At last Cuchulain spake, "A young man strays + "Driving the deer along the woody ways. + "I often hear him singing to and fro, + "I often hear the sweet sound of his bow, + "Seek out what man he is." + + One went and came. + "He bade me let all know he gives his name + "At the sword point, and bade me bring him one + "Who had a like vow from our triple dun." + + "I only of the Red Branch hosted now," + Cuchulain cried, "have made and keep that vow." + + After short fighting in the leafy shade, + He spake to the young man, "Is there no maid + "Who loves you, no white arms to wrap you round, + "Or do you long for the dim sleepy ground, + "That you come here to meet this ancient sword?" + + "The dooms of men are in God's hidden hoard." + + "Your head a while seemed like a woman's head + "That I loved once." + + Again the fighting sped, + But now the war rage in Cuchulain woke, + And through the other's shield his long blade broke, + And pierced him. + + "Speak before your breath is done." + "I am Finmole, mighty Cuchulain's son." + + "I put you from your pain. I can no more." + + While day its burden on to evening bore, + With head bowed on his knees Cuchulain stayed; + Then Concobar sent that sweet-throated maid, + And she, to win him, his gray hair caressed; + In vain her arms, in vain her soft white breast. + Then Concobar, the subtlest of all men, + Ranking his Druids round him ten by ten, + Spake thus, "Cuchulain will dwell there and brood, + "For three days more in dreadful quietude, + "And then arise, and raving slay us all. + "Go, cast on him delusions magical, + "That he might fight the waves of the loud sea." + And ten by ten under a quicken tree, + The Druids chaunted, swaying in their hands + Tall wands of alder, and white quicken wands. + + In three days' time, Cuchulain with a moan + Stood up, and came to the long sands alone: + For four days warred he with the bitter tide; + And the waves flowed above him, and he died. + + +THE ROSE OF THE WORLD + + + Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream? + For these red lips, with all their mournful pride, + Mournful that no new wonder may betide, + Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam, + And Usna's children died. + + We and the labouring world are passing by: + Amid men's souls, that waver and give place, + Like the pale waters in their wintry race, + Under the passing stars, foam of the sky, + Lives on this lonely face. + + Bow down, archangels, in your dim abode: + Before you were, or any hearts to beat, + Weary and kind one lingered by His seat; + He made the world to be a grassy road + Before her wandering feet. + + +THE ROSE OF PEACE + + + If Michael, leader of God's host + When Heaven and Hell are met, + Looked down on you from Heaven's door-post + He would his deeds forget. + + Brooding no more upon God's wars + In his Divine homestead, + He would go weave out of the stars + A chaplet for your head. + + And all folk seeing him bow down, + And white stars tell your praise, + Would come at last to God's great town, + Led on by gentle ways; + + And God would bid His warfare cease. + Saying all things were well; + And softly make a rosy peace, + A peace of Heaven with Hell. + + +THE ROSE OF BATTLE + + + Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! + The tall thought-woven sails, that flap unfurled + Above the tide of hours, trouble the air, + And God's bell buoyed to be the water's care; + While hushed from fear, or loud with hope, a band + With blown, spray-dabbled hair gather at hand. + _Turn if you may from battles never done_, + I call, as they go by me one by one, + _Danger no refuge holds; and war no peace, + For him who hears love sing and never cease, + Beside her clean-swept hearth, her quiet shade: + But gather all for whom no love hath made + A woven silence, or but came to cast + A song into the air, and singing past + To smile on the pale dawn; and gather you + Who have sought more than is in rain or dew + Or in the sun and moon, or on the earth,_ + _Or sighs amid the wandering, starry mirth, + Or comes in laughter from the sea's sad lips + And wage God's battles in the long gray ships. + The sad, the lonely, the insatiable, + To these Old Night shall all her mystery tell; + God's bell has claimed them by the little cry + Of their sad hearts, that may not live nor die._ + + Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! + You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled + Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring + The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing. + Beauty grown sad with its eternity + Made you of us, and of the dim gray sea. + Our long ships loose thought-woven sails and wait, + For God has bid them share an equal fate; + And when at last defeated in His wars, + They have gone down under the same white stars, + We shall no longer hear the little cry + Of our sad hearts, that may not live nor die. + + +A FAERY SONG + + + _Sung by the people of faery over Diarmuid and Grania, who lay in + their bridal sleep under a Cromlech._ + + We who are old, old and gay, + O so old! + Thousands of years, thousands of years, + If all were told: + + Give to these children, new from the world, + Silence and love; + And the long dew-dropping hours of the night, + And the stars above: + + Give to these children, new from the world, + Rest far from men. + Is anything better, anything better? + Tell us it then: + + Us who are old, old and gay, + O so old! + Thousands of years, thousands of years, + If all were told. + + +THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE + + + I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, + And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: + Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, + And live alone in the bee-loud glade. + + And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, + Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; + There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, + And evening full of the linnet's wings. + + I will arise and go now, for always night and day + I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; + While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray, + I hear it in the deep heart's core. + + +A CRADLE SONG + + + "_Coth yani me von gilli beg, + 'N heur ve thu more a creena_." + + The angels are stooping + Above your bed; + They weary of trooping + With the whimpering dead. + + God's laughing in heaven + To see you so good; + The Shining Seven + Are gay with His mood. + + I kiss you and kiss you, + My pigeon, my own; + Ah, how I shall miss you + When you have grown. + + +THE PITY OF LOVE + + + A pity beyond all telling + Is hid in the heart of love: + The folk who are buying and selling + The clouds on their journey above + The cold wet winds ever blowing + And the shadowy hazel grove + Where mouse-gray waters are flowing + Threaten the head that I love. + + +THE SORROW OF LOVE + + + The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves, + The full round moon and the star-laden sky, + And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves, + Had hid away earth's old and weary cry. + + And then you came with those red mournful lips, + And with you came the whole of the world's tears + And all the trouble of her labouring ships, + And all the trouble of her myriad years. + + And now the sparrows warring in the eaves, + The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky, + And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves, + Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry. + + +WHEN YOU ARE OLD + + + When you are old and gray and full of sleep, + And nodding by the fire, take down this book, + And slowly read, and dream of the soft look + Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; + + How many loved your moments of glad grace, + And loved your beauty will love false or true; + But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, + And loved the sorrows of your changing face. + + And bending down beside the glowing bars + Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled + And paced upon the mountains overhead + And hid his face amid a crowd of stars. + + +THE WHITE BIRDS + + + I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea! + We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee; + And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low + on the rim of the sky, + Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die. + + A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew dabbled, the lily and rose; + Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes, + Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low + in the fall of the dew: + For I would we were changed to white birds on the + wandering foam: I and you! + + I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore, + Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more; + Soon far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be, + Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea! + + +A DREAM OF DEATH + + + I dreamed that one had died in a strange place + Near no accustomed hand; + And they had nailed the boards above her face + The peasants of that land, + Wondering to lay her in that solitude, + And raised above her mound + A cross they had made out of two bits of wood, + And planted cypress round; + And left her to the indifferent stars above + Until I carved these words: + _She was more beautiful than thy first love, + But now lies under boards_. + + +A DREAM OF A BLESSED SPIRIT + + + All the heavy days are over; + Leave the body's coloured pride + Underneath the grass and clover, + With the feet laid side by side. + + One with her are mirth and duty, + Bear the gold embroidered dress, + For she needs not her sad beauty, + To the scented oaken press. + + Hers the kiss of Mother Mary, + The long hair is on her face; + Still she goes with footsteps wary, + Full of earth's old timid grace. + + With white feet of angels seven + Her white feet go glimmering + And above the deep of heaven, + Flame on flame and wing on wing. + + +WHO GOES WITH FERGUS? + + + Who will go drive with Fergus now, + And pierce the deep wood's woven shade, + And dance upon the level shore? + Young man, lift up your russet brow, + And lift your tender eyelids, maid, + And brood on hopes and fears no more. + + And no more turn aside and brood + Upon Love's bitter mystery; + For Fergus rules the brazen cars, + And rules the shadows of the wood, + And the white breast of the dim sea + And all dishevelled wandering stars. + + +THE MAN WHO DREAMED OF FAERYLAND + + + He stood among a crowd at Drumahair; + His heart hung all upon a silken dress, + And he had known at last some tenderness, + Before earth made of him her sleepy care; + But when a man poured fish into a pile, + It seemed they raised their little silver heads, + And sang how day a Druid twilight sheds + Upon a dim, green, well-beloved isle, + Where people love beside star-laden seas; + How Time may never mar their faery vows + Under the woven roofs of quicken boughs: + The singing shook him out of his new ease. + + He wandered by the sands of Lisadill; + His mind ran all on money cares and fears, + And he had known at last some prudent years + Before they heaped his grave under the hill; + But while he passed before a plashy place, + A lug-worm with its gray and muddy mouth + Sang how somewhere to north or west or south + There dwelt a gay, exulting, gentle race; + And how beneath those three times blessed skies + A Danaan fruitage makes a shower of moons, + And as it falls awakens leafy tunes: + And at that singing he was no more wise. + + He mused beside the well of Scanavin, + He mused upon his mockers: without fail + His sudden vengeance were a country tale, + Now that deep earth has drunk his body in; + But one small knot-grass growing by the pool + Told where, ah, little, all-unneeded voice! + Old Silence bids a lonely folk rejoice, + And chaplet their calm brows with leafage cool, + And how, when fades the sea-strewn rose of day, + A gentle feeling wraps them like a fleece, + And all their trouble dies into its peace: + The tale drove his fine angry mood away. + + He slept under the hill of Lugnagall; + And might have known at last unhaunted sleep + Under that cold and vapour-turbaned steep, + Now that old earth had taken man and all: + Were not the worms that spired about his bones + A-telling with their low and reedy cry, + Of how God leans His hands out of the sky, + To bless that isle with honey in His tones; + That none may feel the power of squall and wave + And no one any leaf-crowned dancer miss + Until He burn up Nature with a kiss: + The man has found no comfort in the grave. + + +THE DEDICATION TO A BOOK OF STORIES SELECTED FROM THE IRISH NOVELISTS + + + There was a green branch hung with many a bell + When her own people ruled in wave-worn Eire; + And from its murmuring greenness, calm of faery, + A Druid kindness, on all hearers fell. + + It charmed away the merchant from his guile, + And turned the farmer's memory from his cattle, + And hushed in sleep the roaring ranks of battle, + For all who heard it dreamed a little while. + + Ah, Exiles wandering over many seas, + Spinning at all times Eire's good to-morrow! + Ah, worldwide Nation, always growing Sorrow! + I also bear a bell branch full of ease. + + I tore it from green boughs winds tossed and hurled, + Green boughs of tossing always, weary, weary! + I tore it from the green boughs of old Eire, + The willow of the many-sorrowed world. + + Ah, Exiles, wandering over many lands! + My bell branch murmurs: the gay bells bring laughter, + Leaping to shake a cobweb from the rafter; + The sad bells bow the forehead on the hands. + + A honeyed ringing: under the new skies + They bring you memories of old village faces, + Cabins gone now, old well-sides, old dear places; + And men who loved the cause that never dies. + + +THE LAMENTATION OF THE OLD PENSIONER + + + I had a chair at every hearth, + When no one turned to see, + With "Look at that old fellow there, + "And who may he be?" + And therefore do I wander now, + And the fret lies on me. + + The road-side trees keep murmuring + Ah, wherefore murmur ye, + As in the old days long gone by, + Green oak and poplar tree? + The well-known faces are all gone + And the fret lies on me. + + +THE BALLAD OF FATHER GILLIGAN + + + The old priest Peter Gilligan + Was weary night and day; + For half his flock were in their beds, + Or under green sods lay. + + Once, while he nodded on a chair, + At the moth-hour of eve, + Another poor man sent for him, + And he began to grieve. + + "I have no rest, nor joy, nor peace, + "For people die and die"; + And after cried he, "God forgive! + "My body spake, not I!" + + He knelt, and leaning on the chair + He prayed and fell asleep; + And the moth-hour went from the fields, + And stars began to peep. + + They slowly into millions grew, + And leaves shook in the wind; + And God covered the world with shade, + And whispered to mankind. + + Upon the time of sparrow chirp + When the moths came once more, + The old priest Peter Gilligan + Stood upright on the floor. + + "Mavrone, mavrone! the man has died, + "While I slept on the chair"; + He roused his horse out of its sleep, + And rode with little care. + + He rode now as he never rode, + By rocky lane and fen; + The sick man's wife opened the door: + "Father! you come again!" + + "And is the poor man dead?" he cried, + "He died an hour ago," + The old priest Peter Gilligan + In grief swayed to and fro. + + "When you were gone, he turned and died + "As merry as a bird." + The old priest Peter Gilligan + He knelt him at that word. + + "He who hath made the night of stars + "For souls, who tire and bleed, + "Sent one of His great angels down + "To help me in my need. + + "He who is wrapped in purple robes, + "With planets in His care, + "Had pity on the least of things + "Asleep upon a chair." + + +THE TWO TREES + + + Beloved, gaze in thine own heart, + The holy tree is growing there; + From joy the holy branches start, + And all the trembling flowers they bear. + The changing colours of its fruit + Have dowered the stars with merry light; + The surety of its hidden root + Has planted quiet in the night; + The shaking of its leafy head + Has given the waves their melody, + And made my lips and music wed, + Murmuring a wizard song for thee. + There, through bewildered branches, go + Winged Loves borne on in gentle strife, + Tossing and tossing to and fro + The flaming circle of our life. + When looking on their shaken hair, + And dreaming how they dance and dart, + Thine eyes grow full of tender care: + Beloved, gaze in thine own heart. + + Gaze no more in the bitter glass + The demons, with their subtle guile, + Lift up before us when they pass, + Or only gaze a little while; + For there a fatal image grows, + With broken boughs, and blackened leaves, + And roots half hidden under snows + Driven by a storm that ever grieves. + For all things turn to barrenness + In the dim glass the demons hold, + The glass of outer weariness, + Made when God slept in times of old. + There, through the broken branches, go + The ravens of unresting thought; + Peering and flying to and fro + To see men's souls bartered and bought. + When they are heard upon the wind, + And when they shake their wings; alas! + Thy tender eyes grow all unkind: + Gaze no more in the bitter glass. + + +TO IRELAND IN THE COMING TIMES + + + _Know, that I would accounted be + True brother of that company, + Who sang to sweeten Ireland's wrong, + Ballad and story, rann and song; + Nor be I any less of them, + Because the red-rose-bordered hem + Of her, whose history began + Before God made the angelic clan, + Trails all about the written page; + For in the world's first blossoming age + The light fall of her flying feet + Made Ireland's heart begin to beat; + And still the starry candles flare + To help her light foot here and there; + And still the thoughts of Ireland brood + Upon her holy quietude._ + + _Nor may I less be counted one + With Davis, Mangan, Ferguson, + Because to him, who ponders well, + My rhymes more than their rhyming tell + Of the dim wisdoms old and deep, + That God gives unto man in sleep. + For the elemental beings go + About my table to and fro. + In flood and fire and clay and wind, + They huddle from man's pondering mind; + Yet he who treads in austere ways + May surely meet their ancient gaze. + Man ever journeys on with them + After the red-rose-bordered hem. + Ah, faeries, dancing under the moon, + A Druid land, a Druid tune!_ + + _While still I may, I write for you + The love I lived, the dream I knew. + From our birthday, until we die, + Is but the winking of an eye; + And we, our singing and our love, + The mariners of night above, + And all the wizard things that go + About my table to and fro. + Are passing on to where may be, + In truth's consuming ecstasy + No place for love and dream at all; + For God goes by with white foot-fall. + I cast my heart into my rhymes, + That you, in the dim coming times, + May know how my heart went with them + After the red-rose-bordered hem._ + + + + +THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE + + + _O Rose, thou art sick._ + + WILLIAM BLAKE. + +TO + +FLORENCE FARR + + + MAURTEEN BRUIN + BRIDGET BRUIN + SHAWN BRUIN + MARY BRUIN + FATHER HART + A FAERY CHILD + + _The Scene is laid in the Barony of Kilmacowen, in the County of + Sligo, and at a remote time._ + + + SCENE.--_A room with a hearth on the floor in the middle of a deep + alcove to the Right. There are benches in the alcove and a table; + and a crucifix on the wall. The alcove is full of a glow of light + from the fire. There is an open door facing the audience to the + Left, and to the left of this a bench. Through the door one can see + the forest. It is night, but the moon or a late sunset glimmers + through the trees and carries the eye far off into a vague, + mysterious world._ MAURTEEN BRUIN, SHAWN BRUIN, _and_ BRIDGET BRUIN + _sit in the alcove at the table or about the fire. They are dressed + in the costume of some remote time, and near them sits an old + priest_, FATHER HART. _He may be dressed as a friar. There is food + and drink upon the table_. MARY BRUIN _stands by the door reading a + book. If she looks up she can see through the door into the wood._ + + BRIDGET + + Because I bid her clean the pots for supper + She took that old book down out of the thatch; + She has been doubled over it ever since. + We should be deafened by her groans and moans + Had she to work as some do, Father Hart; + Get up at dawn like me and mend and scour + Or ride abroad in the boisterous night like you, + The pyx and blessed bread under your arm. + + SHAWN + + Mother, you are too cross. + + BRIDGET + + You've married her, + And fear to vex her and so take her part. + + MAURTEEN (_to_ FATHER HART) + + It is but right that youth should side with youth; + She quarrels with my wife a bit at times, + And is too deep just now in the old book! + But do not blame her greatly; she will grow + As quiet as a puff-ball in a tree + When but the moons of marriage dawn and die + For half a score of times. + + FATHER HART + + Their hearts are wild, + As be the hearts of birds, till children come. + + BRIDGET + + She would not mind the kettle, milk the cow, + Or even lay the knives and spread the cloth. + + SHAWN + + Mother, if only---- + + MAURTEEN + + Shawn, this is half empty; + Go, bring up the best bottle that we have. + + FATHER HART + + I never saw her read a book before, + What can it be? + + MAURTEEN (_to_ SHAWN) + + What are you waiting for? + You must not shake it when you draw the cork; + It's precious wine, so take your time about it. + +(_To Priest._) (SHAWN _goes_.) + + There was a Spaniard wrecked at Ocris Head, + When I was young, and I have still some bottles. + He cannot bear to hear her blamed; the book + Has lain up in the thatch these fifty years; + My father told me my grandfather wrote it, + And killed a heifer for the binding of it-- + But supper's spread, and we can talk and eat + It was little good he got out of the book, + Because it filled his house with rambling fiddlers, + And rambling ballad-makers and the like. + The griddle-bread is there in front of you. + Colleen, what is the wonder in that book, + That you must leave the bread to cool? Had I + Or had my father read or written books + There were no stocking stuffed with yellow guineas + To come when I am dead to Shawn and you. + + FATHER HART + + You should not fill your head with foolish dreams. + What are you reading? + + MARY + + How a Princess Edane, + A daughter of a King of Ireland, heard + A voice singing on a May Eve like this, + And followed half awake and half asleep, + Until she came into the Land of Faery, + Where nobody gets old and godly and grave, + Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise, + Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue. + And she is still there, busied with a dance + Deep in the dewy shadow of a wood, + Or where stars walk upon a mountain-top. + + MAURTEEN + + Persuade the colleen to put down the book; + My grandfather would mutter just such things, + And he was no judge of a dog or a horse, + And any idle boy could blarney him; + Just speak your mind. + + FATHER HART + + Put it away, my colleen; + God spreads the heavens above us like great wings + And gives a little round of deeds and days, + And then come the wrecked angels and set snares, + And bait them with light hopes and heavy dreams, + Until the heart is puffed with pride and goes + Half shuddering and half joyous from God's peace; + And it was some wrecked angel, blind with tears, + Who flattered Edane's heart with merry words. + My colleen, I have seen some other girls + Restless and ill at ease, but years went by + And they grew like their neighbours and were glad + In minding children, working at the churn, + And gossiping of weddings and of wakes; + For life moves out of a red flare of dreams + Into a common light of common hours, + Until old age bring the red flare again. + + MAURTEEN + + That's true--but she's too young to know it's true. + + BRIDGET + + She's old enough to know that it is wrong + To mope and idle. + + MAURTEEN + + I've little blame for her; + She's dull when my big son is in the fields, + And that and maybe this good woman's tongue + Have driven her to hide among her dreams + Like children from the dark under the bed-clothes. + + BRIDGET + + She'd never do a turn if I were silent. + + MAURTEEN + + And maybe it is natural upon May Eve + To dream of the good people. But tell me, girl, + If you've the branch of blessed quicken wood + That women hang upon the post of the door + That they may send good luck into the house? + Remember they may steal new-married brides + After the fall of twilight on May Eve, + Or what old women mutter at the fire + Is but a pack of lies. + + FATHER HART + + It may be truth. + We do not know the limit of those powers + God has permitted to the evil spirits + For some mysterious end. You have done right (_to_ MARY); + It's well to keep old innocent customs up. + +(MARY BRUIN _has taken a bough of quicken wood from a seat and hung it +on a nail in the door-post. A girl child strangely dressed, perhaps in +faery green, comes out of the wood and takes it away_.) + + MARY + + I had no sooner hung it on the nail + Before a child ran up out of the wind; + She has caught it in her hand and fondled it; + Her face is pale as water before dawn. + + FATHER HART + + Whose child can this be? + + MAURTEEN + + No one's child at all. + She often dreams that some one has gone by, + When there was nothing but a puff of wind. + + MARY + + They have taken away the blessed quicken wood, + They will not bring good luck into the house; + Yet I am glad that I was courteous to them, + For are not they, likewise, children of God? + + FATHER HART + + Colleen, they are the children of the fiend, + And they have power until the end of Time, + When God shall fight with them a great pitched battle + And hack them into pieces. + + MARY + + He will smile, + Father, perhaps, and open His great door. + + FATHER HART + + Did but the lawless angels see that door + They would fall, slain by everlasting peace; + And when such angels knock upon our doors, + Who goes with them must drive through the same storm. + +(_A thin old arm comes round the door-post and knocks and beckons. It is +clearly seen in the silvery light._ MARY BRUIN _goes to door and stands +in it for a moment_. MAURTEEN BRUIN _is busy filling_ FATHER HART'S +_plate_. BRIDGET BRUIN _stirs the fire_.) + + MARY (_coming to table_) + + There's somebody out there that beckoned me + And raised her hand as though it held a cup, + And she was drinking from it, so it may be + That she is thirsty. + +(_She takes milk from the table and carries it to the door._) + + FATHER HART + + That will be the child + That you would have it was no child at all. + + BRIDGET + + And maybe, Father, what he said was true; + For there is not another night in the year + So wicked as to-night. + + MAURTEEN + + Nothing can harm us + While the good Father's underneath our roof. + + MARY + + A little queer old woman dressed in green. + + BRIDGET + + The good people beg for milk and fire + Upon May Eve--woe to the house that gives, + For they have power upon it for a year. + + MAURTEEN + + Hush, woman, hush! + + BRIDGET + + She's given milk away. + I knew she would bring evil on the house. + + MAURTEEN + + Who was it? + + MARY + + Both the tongue and face were strange. + + MAURTEEN + + Some strangers came last week to Clover Hill; + She must be one of them. + + BRIDGET + + I am afraid. + + FATHER HART + + The Cross will keep all evil from the house + While it hangs there. + + MAURTEEN + + Come, sit beside me, colleen, + And put away your dreams of discontent, + For I would have you light up my last days, + Like the good glow of the turf; and when I die + You'll be the wealthiest hereabout, for, colleen, + I have a stocking full of yellow guineas + Hidden away where nobody can find it. + + BRIDGET + + You are the fool of every pretty face, + And I must spare and pinch that my son's wife + May have all kinds of ribbons for her head. + + MAURTEEN + + Do not be cross; she is a right good girl! + The butter is by your elbow, Father Hart. + My colleen, have not Fate and Time and Change + Done well for me and for old Bridget there? + We have a hundred acres of good land, + And sit beside each other at the fire. + I have this reverend Father for my friend, + I look upon your face and my son's face-- + We've put his plate by yours--and here he comes, + And brings with him the only thing we have lacked, + Abundance of good wine. (SHAWN _comes in_.) Stir up the fire, + And put new turf upon it till it blaze; + To watch the turf-smoke coiling from the fire, + And feel content and wisdom in your heart, + This is the best of life; when we are young + We long to tread a way none trod before, + But find the excellent old way through love, + And through the care of children, to the hour + For bidding Fate and Time and Change goodbye. + +(MARY _takes a sod of turf from the fire and goes out through the door_. +SHAWN _follows her and meets her coming in_.) + + SHAWN + + What is it draws you to the chill o' the wood? + There is a light among the stems of the trees + That makes one shiver. + + MARY + + A little queer old man + Made me a sign to show he wanted fire + To light his pipe. + + BRIDGET + + You've given milk and fire + Upon the unluckiest night of the year and brought, + For all you know, evil upon the house. + Before you married you were idle and fine + And went about with ribbons on your head; + And now--no, Father, I will speak my mind-- + She is not a fitting wife for any man---- + + SHAWN + + Be quiet, Mother! + + MAURTEEN + + You are much too cross. + + MARY + + What do I care if I have given this house, + Where I must hear all day a bitter tongue, + Into the power of faeries! + + BRIDGET + + You know well + How calling the good people by that name, + Or talking of them over much at all, + May bring all kinds of evil on the house. + + MARY + + Come, faeries, take me out of this dull house! + Let me have all the freedom I have lost; + Work when I will and idle when I will! + Faeries, come take me out of this dull world, + For I would ride with you upon the wind. + Run on the top of the dishevelled tide, + And dance upon the mountains like a flame. + + FATHER HART + + You cannot know the meaning of your words. + + MARY + + Father, I am right weary of four tongues: + A tongue that is too crafty and too wise, + A tongue that is too godly and too grave, + A tongue that is more bitter than the tide, + And a kind tongue too full of drowsy love, + Of drowsy love and my captivity. + +(SHAWN BRUIN _leads her to a seat at the left of the door_.) + + SHAWN + + Do not blame me; I often lie awake + Thinking that all things trouble your bright head. + How beautiful it is--your broad pale forehead + Under a cloudy blossoming of hair! + Sit down beside me here--these are too old, + And have forgotten they were ever young. + + MARY + + O, you are the great door-post of this house, + And I the branch of blessed quicken wood, + And if I could I'd hang upon the post, + Till I had brought good luck into the house. + +(_She would put her arms about him, but looks shyly at the priest and +lets her arms fall._) + + FATHER HART + + My daughter, take his hand--by love alone + God binds us to Himself and to the hearth, + That shuts us from the waste beyond His peace, + From maddening freedom and bewildering light. + + SHAWN + + Would that the world were mine to give it you, + And not its quiet hearths alone, but even + All that bewilderment of light and freedom, + If you would have it. + + MARY + + I would take the world + And break it into pieces in my hands + To see you smile watching it crumble away. + + SHAWN + + Then I would mould a world of fire and dew, + With no one bitter, grave or over wise, + And nothing marred or old to do you wrong, + And crowd the enraptured quiet of the sky + With candles burning to your lonely face. + + MARY + + Your looks are all the candles that I need. + + SHAWN + + Once a fly dancing in a beam of the sun, + Or the light wind blowing out of the dawn, + Could fill your heart with dreams none other knew, + But now the indissoluble sacrament + Has mixed your heart that was most proud and cold + With my warm heart for ever; the sun and moon + Must fade and heaven be rolled up like a scroll; + But your white spirit still walk by my spirit. + +(_A Voice singing in the wood._) + + MAURTEEN + + There's some one singing. Why, it's but a child. + It sang, "The lonely of heart is withered away." + A strange song for a child, but she sings sweetly. + Listen, listen! + +(_Goes to door._) + + MARY + + O, cling close to me, + Because I have said wicked things to-night. + + THE VOICE + + The wind blows out of the gates of the day, + The wind blows over the lonely of heart, + And the lonely of heart is withered away. + While the faeries dance in a place apart, + Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring, + Tossing their milk-white arms in the air; + For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing + Of a land where even the old are fair, + And even the wise are merry of tongue; + But I heard a reed of Coolaney say, + "When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung + The lonely of heart is withered away!" + + MAURTEEN + + Being happy, I would have all others happy, + So I will bring her in out of the cold. + +(_He brings in the faery child._) + + THE CHILD + + I tire of winds and waters and pale lights. + + MAURTEEN + + And that's no wonder, for when night has fallen + The wood's a cold and a bewildering place, + But you are welcome here. + + THE CHILD + + I am welcome here. + For when I tire of this warm little house + There is one here that must away, away. + + MAURTEEN + + O, listen to her dreamy and strange talk. + Are you not cold? + + THE CHILD + + I will crouch down beside you, + For I have run a long, long way this night. + + BRIDGET + + You have a comely shape. + + MAURTEEN + + Your hair is wet. + + BRIDGET + + I'll warm your chilly feet. + + MAURTEEN + + You have come indeed + A long, long way--for I have never seen + Your pretty face--and must be tired and hungry, + Here is some bread and wine. + + THE CHILD + + The wine is bitter. + Old mother, have you no sweet food for me? + + BRIDGET + + I have some honey. + +(_She goes into the next room._) + + MAURTEEN + + You have coaxing ways, + The mother was quite cross before you came. + +(BRIDGET _returns with the honey and fills a porringer with milk_.) + + BRIDGET + + She is the child of gentle people; look + At her white hands and at her pretty dress. + I've brought you some new milk, but wait a while + And I will put it to the fire to warm, + For things well fitted for poor folk like us + Would never please a high-born child like you. + + THE CHILD + + From dawn, when you must blow the fire ablaze, + You work your fingers to the bone, old mother. + The young may lie in bed and dream and hope, + But you must work your fingers to the bone + Because your heart is old. + + BRIDGET + + The young are idle. + + THE CHILD + + Your memories have made you wise, old father; + The young must sigh through many a dream and hope, + But you are wise because your heart is old. + +(BRIDGET _gives her more bread and honey_.) + + MAURTEEN + + O, who would think to find so young a girl + Loving old age and wisdom? + + THE CHILD + + No more, mother. + + MAURTEEN + + What a small bite! The milk is ready now. + (_Hands it to her._) What a small sip! + + THE CHILD + + Put on my shoes, old mother. + Now I would like to dance now I have eaten, + The reeds are dancing by Coolaney lake, + And I would like to dance until the reeds + And the white waves have danced themselves asleep. + +(BRIDGET _puts on the shoes, and the_ CHILD _is about to dance, but +suddenly sees the crucifix and shrieks and covers her eyes_.) + + What is that ugly thing on the black cross? + + FATHER HART + + You cannot know how naughty your words are! + That is our Blessed Lord. + + THE CHILD + + Hide it away! + + BRIDGET + + I have begun to be afraid again. + + THE CHILD + + Hide it away! + + MAURTEEN + + That would be wickedness! + + BRIDGET + + That would be sacrilege! + + THE CHILD + + The tortured thing! + Hide it away! + + MAURTEEN + + Her parents are to blame. + + FATHER HART + + That is the image of the Son of God. + + THE CHILD (_caressing him_) + + Hide it away, hide it away! + + MAURTEEN + + No, no. + + FATHER HART + + Because you are so young and like a bird, + That must take fright at every stir of the leaves, + I will go take it down. + + THE CHILD + + Hide it away! + And cover it out of sight and out of mind! + +(FATHER HART _takes crucifix from wall and carries it towards inner +room_.) + + FATHER HART + + Since you have come into this barony, + I will instruct you in our blessed faith; + And being so keen witted you'll soon learn. + +(_To the others._) + + We must be tender to all budding things, + Our Maker let no thought of Calvary + Trouble the morning stars in their first song. + +(_Puts crucifix in inner room._) + + THE CHILD + + Here is level ground for dancing; I will dance. + +(_Sings._) + + "The wind blows out of the gates of the day, + The wind blows over the lonely of heart, + And the lonely of heart is withered away." + +(_She dances._) + + MARY (_to_ SHAWN) + + Just now when she came near I thought I heard + Other small steps beating upon the floor, + And a faint music blowing in the wind, + Invisible pipes giving her feet the tune. + + SHAWN + + I heard no steps but hers. + + MARY + + I hear them now, + The unholy powers are dancing in the house. + + MAURTEEN + + Come over here, and if you promise me + Not to talk wickedly of holy things + I will give you something. + + THE CHILD + + Bring it me, old father. + + MAURTEEN + + Here are some ribbons that I bought in the town + For my son's wife--but she will let me give them + To tie up that wild hair the winds have tumbled. + + THE CHILD + + Come, tell me, do you love me? + + MAURTEEN + + Yes, I love you. + + THE CHILD + + Ah, but you love this fireside. Do you love me? + + FATHER HART + + When the Almighty puts so great a share + Of His own ageless youth into a creature, + To look is but to love. + + THE CHILD + + But you love Him? + + BRIDGET + + She is blaspheming. + + THE CHILD + + And do you love me too? + + MARY + + I do not know. + + THE CHILD + + You love that young man there, + Yet I could make you ride upon the winds, + Run on the top of the dishevelled tide, + And dance upon the mountains like a flame. + + MARY + + Queen of Angels and kind saints defend us! + Some dreadful thing will happen. A while ago + She took away the blessed quicken wood. + + FATHER HART + + You fear because of her unmeasured prattle; + She knows no better. Child, how old are you? + + THE CHILD + + When winter sleep is abroad my hair grows thin, + My feet unsteady. When the leaves awaken + My mother carries me in her golden arms; + I'll soon put on my womanhood and marry + The spirits of wood and water, but who can tell + When I was born for the first time? I think + I am much older than the eagle cock + That blinks and blinks on Ballygawley Hill, + And he is the oldest thing under the moon. + + FATHER HART + + O she is of the faery people. + + THE CHILD + + One called, + I sent my messengers for milk and fire, + She called again and after that I came. + +(_All except_ SHAWN _and_ MARY BRUIN _gather behind the priest for +protection_.) + + SHAWN (_rising_) + + Though you have made all these obedient, + You have not charmed my sight and won from me + A wish or gift to make you powerful; + I'll turn you from the house. + + FATHER HART + + No, I will face her. + + THE CHILD + + Because you took away the crucifix + I am so mighty that there's none can pass, + Unless I will it, where my feet have danced + Or where I've whirled my finger-tops. + +(SHAWN _tries to approach her and cannot_.) + + MAURTEEN + + Look, look! + There something stops him--look how he moves his hands + As though he rubbed them on a wall of glass! + + FATHER HART + + I will confront this mighty spirit alone; + Be not afraid, the Father is with us, + The Holy Martyrs and the Innocents, + The adoring Magi in their coats of mail, + And He who died and rose on the third day, + And all the nine angelic hierarchies. + +(_The_ CHILD _kneels upon the settle beside_ MARY _and puts her arms +about her_.) + + Cry, daughter, to the Angels and the Saints. + + THE CHILD + + You shall go with me, newly-married bride, + And gaze upon a merrier multitude. + White-armed Nuala, Aengus of the Birds, + Feacra of the hurtling foam, and him + Who is the ruler of the Western Host, + Finvarra, and their Land of Heart's Desire, + Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood, + But joy is wisdom, Time an endless song. + I kiss you and the world begins to fade. + + SHAWN + + Awake out of that trance--and cover up + Your eyes and ears. + + FATHER HART + + She must both look and listen, + For only the soul's choice can save her now. + Come over to me, daughter; stand beside me; + Think of this house and of your duties in it. + + THE CHILD + + Stay and come with me, newly-married bride, + For if you hear him you grow like the rest; + Bear children, cook, and bend above the churn, + And wrangle over butter, fowl, and eggs, + Until at last, grown old and bitter of tongue, + You're crouching there and shivering at the grave. + + FATHER HART + + Daughter, I point you out the way to Heaven. + + THE CHILD + + But I can lead you, newly-married bride, + Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise, + Where nobody gets old and godly and grave, + Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue, + And where kind tongues bring no captivity; + For we are but obedient to the thoughts + That drift into the mind at a wink of the eye. + + FATHER HART + + By the dear Name of the One crucified, + I bid you, Mary Bruin, come to me. + + THE CHILD + + I keep you in the name of your own heart. + + FATHER HART + + It is because I put away the crucifix + That I am nothing, and my power is nothing. + I'll bring it here again. + + MAURTEEN (_clinging to him_) + + No. + + BRIDGET + + Do not leave us. + + FATHER HART + + O, let me go before it is too late; + It is my sin alone that brought it all. + +(_Singing outside._) + + THE CHILD + + I hear them sing, "Come, newly-married bride, + Come, to the woods and waters and pale lights." + + MARY + + I will go with you. + + FATHER HART + + She is lost, alas! + + THE CHILD (_standing by the door_) + + But clinging mortal hope must fall from you, + For we who ride the winds, run on the waves, + And dance upon the mountains are more light + Than dewdrops on the banner of the dawn. + + MARY + + O, take me with you. + + SHAWN + + Beloved, I will keep you. + I've more than words, I have these arms to hold you, + Nor all the faery host, do what they please, + Shall ever make me loosen you from these arms. + + MARY + + Dear face! Dear voice! + + THE CHILD + + Come, newly-married bride. + + MARY + + I always loved her world--and yet--and yet---- + + THE CHILD + + White bird, white bird, come with me, little bird. + + MARY + + She calls me! + + THE CHILD + + Come with me, little bird. + +(_Distant dancing figures appear in the wood._) + + MARY + + I can hear songs and dancing. + + SHAWN + + Stay with me. + + MARY + + I think that I would stay--and yet--and yet---- + + THE CHILD + + Come, little bird, with crest of gold. + + MARY (_very softly_) + + And yet---- + + THE CHILD + + Come, little bird with silver feet! + +(MARY BRUIN _dies, and the_ CHILD _goes_.) + + SHAWN + + She is dead! + + BRIDGET + + Come from that image; body and soul are gone. + You have thrown your arms about a drift of leaves, + Or bole of an ash-tree changed into her image. + + FATHER HART + + Thus do the spirits of evil snatch their prey, + Almost out of the very hand of God; + And day by day their power is more and more, + And men and women leave old paths, for pride + Comes knocking with thin knuckles on the heart. + +(_Outside there are dancing figures, and it may be a white bird, and +many voices singing_:) + + "The wind blows out of the gates of the day, + The wind blows over the lonely of heart, + And the lonely of heart is withered away; + While the faeries dance in a place apart, + Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring, + Tossing their milk-white arms in the air; + For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing + Of a land where even the old are fair, + And even the wise are merry of tongue; + But I heard a reed of Coolaney say-- + 'When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung, + The lonely of heart is withered away.'" + + + + +CROSSWAYS + + + _"The stars are threshed, and the souls are threshed from their husks."_ + + WILLIAM BLAKE. + +To A.E. + + +THE SONG OF THE HAPPY SHEPHERD + + + The woods of Arcady are dead, + And over is their antique joy; + Of old the world on dreaming fed; + Gray Truth is now her painted toy; + Yet still she turns her restless head: + But O, sick children of the world, + Of all the many changing things + In dreary dancing past us whirled, + To the cracked tune that Chronos sings, + Words alone are certain good. + Where are now the warring kings, + Word be-mockers?--By the Rood + Where are now the warring kings? + An idle word is now their glory, + By the stammering schoolboy said, + Reading some entangled story: + The kings of the old time are fled + The wandering earth herself may be + Only a sudden flaming word, + In clanging space a moment heard, + Troubling the endless reverie. + + Then nowise worship dusty deeds, + Nor seek; for this is also sooth; + To hunger fiercely after truth, + Lest all thy toiling only breeds + New dreams, new dreams; there is no truth + Saving in thine own heart. Seek, then, + No learning from the starry men, + Who follow with the optic glass + The whirling ways of stars that pass-- + Seek, then, for this is also sooth, + No word of theirs--the cold star-bane + Has cloven and rent their hearts in twain, + And dead is all their human truth. + Go gather by the humming-sea + Some twisted, echo-harbouring shell, + And to its lips thy story tell, + And they thy comforters will be, + Rewarding in melodious guile, + Thy fretful words a little while, + Till they shall singing fade in ruth, + And die a pearly brotherhood; + For words alone are certain good: + Sing, then, for this is also sooth. + + I must be gone: there is a grave + Where daffodil and lily wave, + And I would please the hapless faun, + Buried under the sleepy ground, + With mirthful songs before the dawn. + His shouting days with mirth were crowned; + And still I dream he treads the lawn, + Walking ghostly in the dew, + Pierced by my glad singing through, + My songs of old earth's dreamy youth: + But ah! she dreams not now; dream thou! + For fair are poppies on the brow: + Dream, dream, for this is also sooth. + + +THE SAD SHEPHERD + + + There was a man whom Sorrow named his friend, + And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming, + Went walking with slow steps along the gleaming + And humming sands, where windy surges wend: + And he called loudly to the stars to bend + From their pale thrones and comfort him, but they + Among themselves laugh on and sing alway: + And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend + Cried out, _Dim sea, hear my most piteous story!_ + The sea swept on and cried her old cry still, + Rolling along in dreams from hill to hill; + He fled the persecution of her glory + And, in a far-off, gentle valley stopping, + Cried all his story to the dewdrops glistening, + But naught they heard, for they are always listening, + The dewdrops, for the sound of their own dropping. + And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend, + Sought once again the shore, and found a shell, + And thought, _I will my heavy story tell + Till my own words, re-echoing, shall send + Their sadness through a hollow, pearly heart; + And my own tale again for me shall sing, + And my own whispering words be comforting, + And lo! my ancient burden may depart_. + Then he sang softly nigh the pearly rim; + But the sad dweller by the sea-ways lone + Changed all he sang to inarticulate moan + Among her wildering whirls, forgetting him. + + +THE CLOAK, THE BOAT, AND THE SHOES + + + "What do you make so fair and bright?" + + "I make the cloak of Sorrow: + "O, lovely to see in all men's sight + "Shall be the cloak of Sorrow, + "In all men's sight." + + "What do you build with sails for flight?" + + "I build a boat for Sorrow, + "O, swift on the seas all day and night + "Saileth the rover Sorrow, + "All day and night." + + "What do you weave with wool so white? + + "I weave the shoes of Sorrow, + "Soundless shall be the footfall light + "In all men's ears of Sorrow, + "Sudden and light." + + +ANASHUYA AND VIJAYA + + + _A little Indian temple in the Golden Age. Around it a garden; + around that the forest._ ANASHUYA, _the young priestess, kneeling + within the temple_. + + ANASHUYA + + Send peace on all the lands and flickering corn.-- + O, may tranquillity walk by his elbow + When wandering in the forest, if he love + No other.--Hear, and may the indolent flocks + Be plentiful.--And if he love another, + May panthers end him.--Hear, and load our king + With wisdom hour by hour.--May we two stand, + When we are dead, beyond the setting suns, + A little from the other shades apart, + With mingling hair, and play upon one lute. + + VIJAYA [_entering and throwing a lily at her_] + + Hail! hail, my Anashuya. + + ANASHUYA + + No: be still. + I, priestess of this temple, offer up + Prayers for the land. + + VIJAYA + + I will wait here, Amrita. + + ANASHUYA + + By mighty Brahma's ever rustling robe, + Who is Amrita? Sorrow of all sorrows! + Another fills your mind. + + VIJAYA + + My mother's name. + + ANASHUYA [_sings, coming out of the temple_] + + _A sad, sad thought went by me slowly: + Sigh, O you little stars! O, sigh and shake your blue apparel! + The sad, sad thought has gone from me now wholly: + Sing, O you little stars! O, sing and raise your rapturous carol + To mighty Brahma, he who made you many as the sands, + And laid you on the gates of evening with his quiet hands._ + +[_Sits down on the steps of the temple._] + + Vijaya, I have brought my evening rice; + The sun has laid his chin on the gray wood, + Weary, with all his poppies gathered round him. + + VIJAYA + + The hour when Kama, full of sleepy laughter, + Rises, and showers abroad his fragrant arrows, + Piercing the twilight with their murmuring barbs. + + ANASHUYA + + See how the sacred old flamingoes come, + Painting with shadow all the marble steps: + Aged and wise, they seek their wonted perches + Within the temple, devious walking, made + To wander by their melancholy minds. + Yon tall one eyes my supper; swiftly chase him + Far, far away. I named him after you. + He is a famous fisher; hour by hour + He ruffles with his bill the minnowed streams. + Ah! there he snaps my rice. I told you so. + Now cuff him off. He's off! A kiss for you, + Because you saved my rice. Have you no thanks? + + VIJAYA [_sings_] + + _Sing you of her, O first few stars, + Whom Brahma, touching with his finger, praises, for you hold_ + _The van of wandering quiet; ere you be too calm and old, + Sing, turning in your cars, + Sing, till you raise your hands and sigh, and from your car heads peer, + With all your whirling hair, and drop many an azure tear._ + + ANASHUYA + + What know the pilots of the stars of tears? + + VIJAYA + + Their faces are all worn, and in their eyes + Flashes the fire of sadness, for they see + The icicles that famish all the north, + Where men lie frozen in the glimmering snow; + And in the flaming forests cower the lion + And lioness, with all their whimpering cubs; + And, ever pacing on the verge of things, + The phantom, Beauty, in a mist of tears; + While we alone have round us woven woods, + And feel the softness of each other's hand, + Amrita, while---- + + ANASHUYA [_going away from him_] + + Ah me, you love another, + +[_Bursting into tears._] + + And may some dreadful ill befall her quick! + + VIJAYA + + I loved another; now I love no other. + Among the mouldering of ancient woods + You live, and on the village border she, + With her old father the blind wood-cutter; + I saw her standing in her door but now. + + ANASHUYA + + Vijaya, swear to love her never more, + + VIJAYA + + Ay, ay. + + ANASHUYA + + Swear by the parents of the gods, + Dread oath, who dwell on sacred Himalay, + On the far Golden Peak; enormous shapes, + Who still were old when the great sea was young + On their vast faces mystery and dreams; + Their hair along the mountains rolled and filled + From year to year by the unnumbered nests + Of aweless birds, and round their stirless feet + The joyous flocks of deer and antelope, + Who never hear the unforgiving hound. + Swear! + + VIJAYA + + By the parents of the gods, I swear. + + ANASHUYA [_sings_] + + _I have forgiven, O new star! + Maybe you have not heard of us, you have come forth so newly, + You hunter of the fields afar! + Ah, you will know my loved one by his hunter's arrows truly, + Shoot on him shafts of quietness, that he may ever keep + An inner laughter, and may kiss his hands to me in sleep._ + + Farewell, Vijaya. Nay, no word, no word; + I, priestess of this temple, offer up + Prayers for the land. + +[VIJAYA _goes_.] + + O Brahma, guard in sleep + The merry lambs and the complacent kine, + The flies below the leaves, and the young mice + In the tree roots, and all the sacred flocks + Of red flamingo; and my love, Vijaya; + And may no restless fay with fidget finger + Trouble his sleeping: give him dreams of me. + + +THE INDIAN UPON GOD + + + I passed along the water's edge below the humid trees, + My spirit rocked in evening light, the rushes round my knees, + My spirit rocked in sleep and sighs; and saw the moorfowl pace + All dripping on a grassy slope, and saw them cease to chase + Each other round in circles, and heard the eldest speak: + _Who holds the world between His bill and made us strong or weak + Is an undying moorfowl, and He lives beyond the sky. + The rains are from His dripping wing, the moonbeams from His eye._ + I passed a little further on and heard a lotus talk: + _Who made the world and ruleth it, He hangeth on a stalk,_ + _For I am in His image made, and all this tinkling tide + Is but a sliding drop of rain between His petals wide._ + A little way within the gloom a roebuck raised his eyes + Brimful of starlight, and he said: _The Stamper of the Skies, + He is a gentle roebuck; for how else, I pray, could He + Conceive a thing so sad and soft, a gentle thing like me?_ + I passed a little further on and heard a peacock say: + _Who made the grass and made the worms and made my feathers gay, + He is a monstrous peacock, and He waveth all the night + His languid tail above us, lit with myriad spots of light._ + + +THE INDIAN TO HIS LOVE + + + The island dreams under the dawn + And great boughs drop tranquillity; + The peahens dance on a smooth lawn, + A parrot sways upon a tree, + Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea. + + Here we will moor our lonely ship + And wander ever with woven hands, + Murmuring softly lip to lip, + Along the grass, along the sands, + Murmuring how far away are the unquiet lands: + + How we alone of mortals are + Hid under quiet bows apart, + While our love grows an Indian star, + A meteor of the burning heart, + One with the tide that gleams, the wings that gleam and dart, + The heavy boughs, the burnished dove + That moans and sighs a hundred days: + How when we die our shades will rove, + When eve has hushed the feathered ways, + With vapoury footsole among the water's drowsy blaze. + + +THE FALLING OF THE LEAVES + + + Autumn is over the long leaves that love us, + And over the mice in the barley sheaves; + Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us, + And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves. + + The hour of the waning of love has beset us, + And weary and worn are our sad souls now; + Let us part, ere the season of passion forget us, + With a kiss and a tear on thy drooping brow. + + +EPHEMERA + + + "Your eyes that once were never weary of mine + "Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids, + "Because our love is waning." + + And then she: + "Although our love is waning, let us stand + "By the lone border of the lake once more, + "Together in that hour of gentleness + "When the poor tired child, Passion, falls asleep: + "How far away the stars seem, and how far + "Is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart!" + + Pensive they paced along the faded leaves, + While slowly he whose hand held hers replied: + "Passion has often worn our wandering hearts." + + The woods were round them, and the yellow leaves + Fell like faint meteors in the gloom, and once + A rabbit old and lame limped down the path; + Autumn was over him: and now they stood + On the lone border of the lake once more: + Turning, he saw that she had thrust dead leaves + Gathered in silence, dewy as her eyes, + In bosom and hair. + + "Ah, do not mourn," he said, + "That we are tired, for other loves await us; + "Hate on and love through unrepining hours. + "Before us lies eternity; our souls + "Are love, and a continual farewell." + + +THE MADNESS OF KING GOLL + + + I sat on cushioned otter skin: + My word was law from Ith to Emen, + And shook at Invar Amargin + The hearts of the world-troubling seamen. + And drove tumult and war away + From girl and boy and man and beast; + The fields grew fatter day by day, + The wild fowl of the air increased; + And every ancient Ollave said, + While he bent down his fading head, + "He drives away the Northern cold." + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + I sat and mused and drank sweet wine; + A herdsman came from inland valleys, + Crying, the pirates drove his swine + To fill their dark-beaked hollow galleys. + I called my battle-breaking men, + And my loud brazen battle-cars + From rolling vale and rivery glen, + And under the blinking of the stars + Fell on the pirates by the deep, + And hurled them in the gulph of sleep: + These hands won many a torque of gold. + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + But slowly, as I shouting slew + And trampled in the bubbling mire, + In my most secret spirit grew + A whirling and a wandering fire: + I stood: keen stars above me shone, + Around me shone keen eyes of men: + I laughed aloud and hurried on + By rocky shore and rushy fen; + I laughed because birds fluttered by, + And starlight gleamed, and clouds flew high, + And rushes waved and waters rolled. + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + And now I wander in the woods + When summer gluts the golden bees, + Or in autumnal solitudes + Arise the leopard-coloured trees; + Or when along the wintry strands + The cormorants shiver on their rocks; + I wander on, and wave my hands, + And sing, and shake my heavy locks. + The gray wolf knows me; by one ear + I lead along the woodland deer; + The hares run by me growing bold. + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + I came upon a little town, + That slumbered in the harvest moon, + And passed a-tiptoe up and down, + Murmuring, to a fitful tune, + How I have followed, night and day, + A tramping of tremendous feet, + And saw where this old tympan lay, + Deserted on a doorway seat, + And bore it to the woods with me; + Of some unhuman misery + Our married voiced wildly trolled. + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + I sang how, when day's toil is done, + Orchil shakes out her long dark hair + That hides away the dying sun + And sheds faint odours through the air: + When my hand passed from wire to wire + It quenched, with sound like falling dew, + The whirling and the wandering fire; + But lift a mournful ulalu, + For the kind wires are torn and still, + And I must wander wood and hill + Through summer's heat and winter's cold. + _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, + the beech leaves old._ + + +THE STOLEN CHILD + + + Where dips the rocky highland + Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, + There lies a leafy island + Where flapping herons wake + The drowsy water rats; + There we've hid our faery vats, + Full of berries, + And of reddest stolen cherries. + _Come away, O human child! + To the waters and the wild + With a faery, hand in hand, + For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._ + + Where the wave of moonlight glosses + The dim gray sands with light, + Far off by furthest Rosses + We foot it all the night, + Weaving olden dances, + Mingling hands and mingling glances + Till the moon has taken flight; + To and fro we leap + And chase the frothy bubbles, + While the world is full of troubles + And is anxious in its sleep. + _Come away, O human child! + To the waters and the wild + With a faery, hand in hand, + For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._ + + Where the wandering water gushes + From the hills above Glen-Car, + In pools among the rushes + That scarce could bathe a star, + We seek for slumbering trout + And whispering in their ears + Give them unquiet dreams; + Leaning softly out + From ferns that drop their tears + Over the young streams, + _Come away, O human child! + To the waters and the wild + With a faery, hand in hand, + For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._ + + Away with us he's going, + The solemn-eyed: + He'll hear no more the lowing + Of the calves on the warm hillside + Or the kettle on the hob + Sing peace into his breast, + Or see the brown mice bob + Round and round the oatmeal-chest. + _For he comes, the human child, + To the waters and the wild + With a faery, hand in hand, + From a world more full of weeping than he can understand._ + + +TO AN ISLE IN THE WATER + + + Shy one, shy one, + Shy one of my heart, + She moves in the firelight + Pensively apart. + + She carries in the dishes, + And lays them in a row. + To an isle in the water + With her would I go. + + She carries in the candles, + And lights the curtained room, + Shy in the doorway + And shy in the gloom; + + And shy as a rabbit, + Helpful and shy. + To an isle in the water + With her would I fly. + + +DOWN BY THE SALLEY GARDENS + + + Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet; + She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet. + She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree; + But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree. + + In a field by the river my love and I did stand, + And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand. + She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs; + But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears. + + +THE MEDITATION OF THE OLD FISHERMAN + + + You waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play, + Though you glow and you glance, though you purr and you dart; + In the Junes that were warmer than these are, the waves were more gay, + _When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart_. + + The herring are not in the tides as they were of old; + My sorrow! for many a creak gave the creel in the cart + That carried the take to Sligo town to be sold, + _When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart_. + + And ah, you proud maiden, you are not so fair when his oar + Is heard on the water, as they were, the proud and apart, + Who paced in the eve by the nets on the pebbly shore, + _When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart_. + + +THE BALLAD OF FATHER O'HART + + + Good Father John O'Hart + In penal days rode out + To a shoneen who had free lands + And his own snipe and trout. + + In trust took he John's lands; + Sleiveens were all his race; + And he gave them as dowers to his daughters, + And they married beyond their place. + + But Father John went up, + And Father John went down; + And he wore small holes in his shoes, + And he wore large holes in his gown. + + All loved him, only the shoneen, + Whom the devils have by the hair, + From the wives, and the cats, and the children, + To the birds in the white of the air. + + The birds, for he opened their cages + As he went up and down; + And he said with a smile, "Have peace now"; + And he went his way with a frown. + + But if when any one died + Came keeners hoarser than rooks, + He bade them give over their keening; + For he was a man of books. + + And these were the works of John, + When weeping score by score, + People came into Coloony; + For he'd died at ninety-four. + + There was no human keening; + The birds from Knocknarea + And the world round Knocknashee + Came keening in that day. + + The young birds and old birds + Came flying, heavy and sad; + Keening in from Tiraragh, + Keening from Ballinafad; + + Keening from Inishmurray, + Nor stayed for bite or sup; + This way were all reproved + Who dig old customs up. + + +THE BALLAD OF MOLL MAGEE + + + Come round me, little childer; + There, don't fling stones at me + Because I mutter as I go; + But pity Moll Magee. + + My man was a poor fisher + With shore lines in the say; + My work was saltin' herrings + The whole of the long day. + + And sometimes from the saltin' shed, + I scarce could drag my feet + Under the blessed moonlight, + Along the pebbly street. + + I'd always been but weakly, + And my baby was just born; + A neighbour minded her by day + I minded her till morn. + + I lay upon my baby; + Ye little childer dear, + I looked on my cold baby + When the morn grew frosty and clear. + + A weary woman sleeps so hard! + My man grew red and pale, + And gave me money, and bade me go + To my own place, Kinsale. + + He drove me out and shut the door, + And gave his curse to me; + I went away in silence, + No neighbour could I see. + + The windows and the doors were shut, + One star shone faint and green + The little straws were turnin' round + Across the bare boreen. + + I went away in silence: + Beyond old Martin's byre + I saw a kindly neighbour + Blowin' her mornin' fire. + + She drew from me my story-- + My money's all used up, + And still, with pityin', scornin' eye, + She gives me bite and sup. + + She says my man will surely come, + And fetch me home agin; + But always, as I'm movin' round, + Without doors or within, + + Pilin' the wood or pilin' the turf, + Or goin' to the well, + I'm thinkin' of my baby + And keenin' to mysel'. + + And sometimes I am sure she knows + When, openin' wide His door, + God lights the stars, His candles, + And looks upon the poor. + + So now, ye little childer, + Ye won't fling stones at me; + But gather with your shinin' looks + And pity Moll Magee. + + +THE BALLAD OF THE FOXHUNTER + + + "Now lay me in a cushioned chair + "And carry me, you four, + "With cushions here and cushions there, + "To see the world once more. + + "And some one from the stables bring + "My Dermot dear and brown, + "And lead him gently in a ring, + "And gently up and down. + + "Now leave the chair upon the grass: + "Bring hound and huntsman here, + "And I on this strange road will pass, + "Filled full of ancient cheer." + + His eyelids droop, his head falls low, + His old eyes cloud with dreams; + The sun upon all things that grow + Pours round in sleepy streams. + + Brown Dermot treads upon the lawn, + And to the armchair goes, + And now the old man's dreams are gone, + He smooths the long brown nose. + + And now moves many a pleasant tongue + Upon his wasted hands, + For leading aged hounds and young + The huntsman near him stands. + + "My huntsman, Rody, blow the horn, + "And make the hills reply." + The huntsman loosens on the morn + A gay and wandering cry. + + A fire is in the old man's eyes, + His fingers move and sway, + And when the wandering music dies + They hear him feebly say, + + "My huntsman, Rody, blow the horn, + "And make the hills reply." + "I cannot blow upon my horn, + "I can but weep and sigh." + + The servants round his cushioned place + Are with new sorrow wrung; + And hounds are gazing on his face, + Both aged hounds and young. + + One blind hound only lies apart + On the sun-smitten grass; + He holds deep commune with his heart: + The moments pass and pass; + + The blind hound with a mournful din + Lifts slow his wintry head; + The servants bear the body in; + The hounds wail for the dead. + + + + +THE WANDERINGS OF USHEEN + + + "_Give me the world if Thou wilt, but grant me an asylum for my + affections._" + + TULKA. + +TO EDWIN J. ELLIS + + +BOOK I + + + S. PATRIC + + You who are bent, and bald, and blind, + With a heavy heart and a wandering mind, + Have known three centuries, poets sing, + Of dalliance with a demon thing. + + USHEEN + + Sad to remember, sick with years, + The swift innumerable spears, + The horsemen with their floating hair, + And bowls of barley, honey, and wine, + And feet of maidens dancing in tune, + And the white body that lay by mine; + But the tale, though words be lighter than air, + Must live to be old like the wandering moon. + + Caolte, and Conan, and Finn were there, + When we followed a deer with our baying hounds, + With Bran, Sgeolan, and Lomair, + And passing the Firbolgs' burial mounds, + Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill + Where passionate Maive is stony still; + And found on the dove-gray edge of the sea + A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode + On a horse with bridle of findrinny; + And like a sunset were her lips, + A stormy sunset on doomed ships; + A citron colour gloomed in her hair, + But down to her feet white vesture flowed, + And with the glimmering crimson glowed + Of many a figured embroidery; + And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell + That wavered like the summer streams, + As her soft bosom rose and fell. + + S. PATRIC + + You are still wrecked among heathen dreams. + + USHEEN + + "Why do you wind no horn?" she said. + "And every hero droop his head? + "The hornless deer is not more sad + "That many a peaceful moment had, + "More sleek than any granary mouse, + "In his own leafy forest house + "Among the waving fields of fern: + "The hunting of heroes should be glad." + + "O pleasant woman," answered Finn, + "We think on Oscar's pencilled urn, + "And on the heroes lying slain, + On Gavra's raven-covered plain; + "But where are your noble kith and kin, + "And from what country do you ride?" + + "My father and my mother are + "Aengus and Adene, my own name + "Niam, and my country far + "Beyond the tumbling of this tide." + + "What dream came with you that you came + "Through bitter tide on foam wet feet? + "Did your companion wander away + "From where the birds of Aengus wing?" + + She said, with laughter tender and sweet: + "I have not yet, war-weary king, + "Been spoken of with any one; + "Yet now I choose, for these four feet + "Ran through the foam and ran to this + "That I might have your son to kiss." + + "Were there no better than my son + "That you through all that foam should run?" + + "I loved no man, though kings besought + "Love, till the Danaan poets brought + "Rhyme, that rhymed to Usheen's name, + "And now I am dizzy with the thought + "Of all that wisdom and the fame + "Of battles broken by his hands, + "Of stories builded by his words + "That are like coloured Asian birds + "At evening in their rainless lands." + + O Patric, by your brazen bell, + There was no limb of mine but fell + Into a desperate gulph of love! + "You only will I wed," I cried, + "And I will make a thousand songs, + "And set your name all names above. + "And captives bound with leathern thongs + "Shall kneel and praise you, one by one, + "At evening in my western dun." + + "O Usheen, mount by me and ride + "To shores by the wash of the tremulous tide, + "Where men have heaped no burial mounds, + "And the days pass by like a wayward tune, + "Where broken faith has never been known, + "And the blushes of first love never have flown; + "And there I will give you a hundred hounds; + "No mightier creatures bay at the moon; + "And a hundred robes of murmuring silk, + "And a hundred calves and a hundred sheep + "Whose long wool whiter than sea froth flows, + "And a hundred spears and a hundred bows, + "And oil and wine and honey and milk, + "And always never-anxious sleep; + "While a hundred youths, mighty of limb, + "But knowing nor tumult nor hate nor strife, + "And a hundred maidens, merry as birds, + "Who when they dance to a fitful measure + "Have a speed like the speed of the salmon herds, + "Shall follow your horn and obey your whim, + "And you shall know the Danaan leisure: + "And Niam be with you for a wife." + Then she sighed gently, "It grows late, + "Music and love and sleep await, + "Where I would be when the white moon climbs + "The red sun falls, and the world grows dim." + + And then I mounted and she bound me + With her triumphing arms around me, + And whispering to herself enwound me; + But when the horse had felt my weight, + He shook himself and neighed three times: + Caolte, Conan, and Finn came near, + And wept, and raised their lamenting hands, + And bid me stay, with many a tear; + But we rode out from the human lands. + + In what far kingdom do you go, + Ah, Fenians, with the shield and bow? + Or are you phantoms white as snow, + Whose lips had life's most prosperous glow? + O you, with whom in sloping valleys, + Or down the dewy forest alleys, + I chased at morn the flying deer, + With whom I hurled the hurrying spear, + And heard the foemen's bucklers rattle, + And broke the heaving ranks of battle! + And Bran, Sgeolan, and Lomair, + Where are you with your long rough hair? + You go not where the red deer feeds, + Nor tear the foemen from their steeds. + + S. PATRIC + + Boast not, nor mourn with drooping head + Companions long accurst and dead, + And hounds for centuries dust and air. + + USHEEN + + We galloped over the glossy sea: + I know not if days passed or hours, + And Niam sang continually + Danaan songs, and their dewy showers + Of pensive laughter, unhuman sound, + Lulled weariness, and softly round + My human sorrow her white arms wound. + + We galloped; now a hornless deer + Passed by us, chased by a phantom hound + All pearly white, save one red ear; + And now a maiden rode like the wind + With an apple of gold in her tossing hand; + And a beautiful young man followed behind + With quenchless gaze and fluttering hair. + + "Were these two born in the Danaan land, + "Or have they breathed the mortal air?" + + "Vex them no longer," Niam said, + And sighing bowed her gentle head, + And sighing laid the pearly tip + Of one long finger on my lip. + + But now the moon like a white rose shone + In the pale west, and the sun's rim sank, + And clouds arrayed their rank on rank + About his fading crimson ball: + The floor of Emen's hosting hall + Was not more level than the sea, + As full of loving phantasy, + And with low murmurs we rode on, + Where many a trumpet-twisted shell + That in immortal silence sleeps + Dreaming of her own melting hues, + Her golds, her ambers, and her blues, + Pierced with soft light the shallowing deeps. + + But now a wandering land breeze came + And a far sound of feathery quires; + It seemed to blow from the dying flame, + They seemed to sing in the smouldering fires. + The horse towards the music raced, + Neighing along the lifeless waste; + Like sooty fingers, many a tree + Rose ever out of the warm sea; + And they were trembling ceaselessly, + As though they all were beating time, + Upon the centre of the sun, + To that low laughing woodland rhyme. + And, now our wandering hours were done, + We cantered to the shore, and knew + The reason of the trembling trees: + Round every branch the song-birds flew, + Or clung thereon like swarming bees; + While round the shore a million stood + Like drops of frozen rainbow light, + And pondered in a soft vain mood + Upon their shadows in the tide, + And told the purple deeps their pride, + And murmured snatches of delight; + And on the shores were many boats + With bending sterns and bending bows. + + And carven figures on their prows + Of bitterns, and fish-eating stoats, + And swans with their exultant throats: + And where the wood and waters meet + We tied the horse in a leafy clump, + And Niam blew three merry notes + Out of a little silver trump; + And then an answering whispering flew + Over the bare and woody land, + A whisper of impetuous feet, + And ever nearer, nearer grew; + And from the woods rushed out a band + Of men and maidens, hand in hand, + And singing, singing altogether; + Their brows were white as fragrant milk, + Their cloaks made out of yellow silk, + And trimmed with many a crimson feather: + And when they saw the cloak I wore + Was dim with mire of a mortal shore, + They fingered it and gazed on me + And laughed like murmurs of the sea; + But Niam with a swift distress + Bid them away and hold their peace; + And when they heard her voice they ran + And knelt them, every maid and man + And kissed, as they would never cease, + Her pearl-pale hand and the hem of her dress. + She bade them bring us to the hall + Where Aengus dreams, from sun to sun, + A Druid dream of the end of days + When the stars are to wane and the world be done. + + They led us by long and shadowy ways + Where drops of dew in myriads fall, + And tangled creepers every hour + Blossom in some new crimson flower, + And once a sudden laughter sprang + From all their lips, and once they sang + Together, while the dark woods rang, + And made in all their distant parts, + With boom of bees in honey marts, + A rumour of delighted hearts. + And once a maiden by my side + Gave me a harp, and bid me sing, + And touch the laughing silver string; + But when I sang of human joy + A sorrow wrapped each merry face, + And, Patric! by your beard, they wept, + Until one came, a tearful boy; + "A sadder creature never stept + "Than this strange human bard," he cried; + And caught the silver harp away, + And, weeping over the white strings, hurled + It down in a leaf-hid, hollow place + That kept dim waters from the sky; + And each one said, with a long, long sigh, + "O saddest harp in all the world, + "Sleep there till the moon and the stars die!" + + And now still sad we came to where + A beautiful young man dreamed within + A house of wattles, clay, and skin; + One hand upheld his beardless chin, + And one a sceptre flashing out + Wild flames of red and gold and blue, + Like to a merry wandering rout + Of dancers leaping in the air; + And men and maidens knelt them there + And showed their eyes with teardrops dim, + And with low murmurs prayed to him, + And kissed the sceptre with red lips, + And touched it with their finger-tips. + + He held that flashing sceptre up. + "Joy drowns the twilight in the dew, + "And fills with stars night's purple cup, + "And wakes the sluggard seeds of corn, + "And stirs the young kid's budding horn. + "And makes the infant ferns unwrap, + "And for the peewit paints his cap, + "And rolls along the unwieldy sun, + "And makes the little planets run: + "And if joy were not on the earth, + "There were an end of change and birth, + "And earth and heaven and hell would die, + "And in some gloomy barrow lie + "Folded like a frozen fly; + "Then mock at Death and Time with glances + "And wavering arms and wandering dances. + + "Men's hearts of old were drops of flame + "That from the saffron morning came, + "Or drops of silver joy that fell + "Out of the moon's pale twisted shell; + "But now hearts cry that hearts are slaves, + "And toss and turn in narrow caves; + "But here there is nor law nor rule, + "Nor have hands held a weary tool; + "And here there is nor Change nor Death, + "But only kind and merry breath, + "For joy is God and God is joy." + With one long glance on maid and boy + And the pale blossom of the moon, + He fell into a Druid swoon. + + And in a wild and sudden dance + We mocked at Time and Fate and Chance + And swept out of the wattled hall + And came to where the dewdrops fall + Among the foamdrops of the sea, + And there we hushed the revelry; + And, gathering on our brows a frown, + Bent all our swaying bodies down, + And to the waves that glimmer by + That sloping green De Danaan sod + Sang "God is joy and joy is God. + "And things that have grown sad are wicked, + "And things that fear the dawn of the morrow + "Or the gray wandering osprey Sorrow." + + We danced to where in the winding thicket + The damask roses, bloom on bloom, + Like crimson meteors hang in the gloom, + And bending over them softly said, + Bending over them in the dance, + With a swift and friendly glance + From dewy eyes: "Upon the dead + "Fall the leaves of other roses, + "On the dead dim earth encloses: + "But never, never on our graves, + "Heaped beside the glimmering waves, + "Shall fall the leaves of damask roses. + "For neither Death nor Change comes near us, + "And all listless hours fear us, + "And we fear no dawning morrow, + "Nor the gray wandering osprey Sorrow." + + The dance wound through the windless woods; + The ever-summered solitudes; + Until the tossing arms grew still + Upon the woody central hill; + And, gathered in a panting band, + We flung on high each waving hand, + And sang unto the starry broods: + In our raised eyes there flashed a glow + Of milky brightness to and fro + As thus our song arose: "You stars, + "Across your wandering ruby cars + "Shake the loose reins: you slaves of God + "He rules you with an iron rod, + "He holds you with an iron bond, + "Each one woven to the other, + "Each one woven to his brother + "Like bubbles in a frozen pond; + "But we in a lonely land abide + "Unchainable as the dim tide, + "With hearts that know nor law nor rule, + "And hands that hold no wearisome tool + "Folded in love that fears no morrow, + "Nor the gray wandering osprey Sorrow." + + O Patric! for a hundred years + I chased upon that woody shore + The deer, the badger, and the boar. + O Patric! for a hundred years + At evening on the glimmering sands, + Beside the piled-up hunting spears, + These now outworn and withered hands + Wrestled among the island bands. + O Patric! for a hundred years + We went a-fishing in long boats + With bending sterns and bending bows, + And carven figures on their prows + Of bitterns and fish-eating stoats. + O Patric! for a hundred years + The gentle Niam was my wife; + But now two things devour my life; + The things that most of all I hate; + Fasting and prayers. + + S. PATRIC + + Tell on. + + USHEEN + + Yes, yes, + For these were ancient Usheen's fate + Loosed long ago from heaven's gate, + For his last days to lie in wait. + + When one day by the tide I stood, + I found in that forgetfulness + Of dreamy foam a staff of wood + From some dead warrior's broken lance: + I turned it in my hands; the stains + Of war were on it, and I wept, + Remembering how the Fenians stept + Along the blood-bedabbled plains, + Equal to good or grievous chance: + Thereon young Niam softly came + And caught my hands, but spake no word + Save only many times my name, + In murmurs, like a frighted bird. + We passed by woods, and lawns of clover, + And found the horse and bridled him, + For we knew well the old was over. + I heard one say "His eyes grow dim + "With all the ancient sorrow of men"; + And wrapped in dreams rode out again + With hoofs of the pale findrinny + Over the glimmering purple sea: + Under the golden evening light. + The immortals moved among the fountains + By rivers and the woods' old night; + Some danced like shadows on the mountains, + Some wandered ever hand in hand, + Or sat in dreams on the pale strand; + Each forehead like an obscure star + Bent down above each hooked knee: + And sang, and with a dreamy gaze + Watched where the sun in a saffron blaze + Was slumbering half in the sea ways; + And, as they sang, the painted birds + Kept time with their bright wings and feet; + Like drops of honey came their words, + But fainter than a young lamb's bleat. + + "An old man stirs the fire to a blaze, + "In the house of a child, of a friend, of a brother + "He has over-lingered his welcome; the days, + "Grown desolate, whisper and sigh to each other; + "He hears the storm in the chimney above, + "And bends to the fire and shakes with the cold, + "While his heart still dreams of battle and love, + "And the cry of the hounds on the hills of old. + + "But we are apart in the grassy places, + "Where care cannot trouble the least of our days, + "Or the softness of youth be gone from our faces, + "Or love's first tenderness die in our gaze. + "The hare grows old as she plays in the sun + "And gazes around her with eyes of brightness; + "Before the swift things that she dreamed of were done + "She limps along in an aged whiteness; + "A storm of birds in the Asian trees + "Like tulips in the air a-winging, + "And the gentle waves of the summer seas, + "That raise their heads and wander singing. + "Must murmur at last 'Unjust, unjust'; + "And 'My speed is a weariness,' falters the mouse + "And the kingfisher turns to a ball of dust, + "And the roof falls in of his tunnelled house. + + "But the love-dew dims our eyes till the day + "When God shall come from the sea with a sigh + "And bid the stars drop down from the sky, + "And the moon like a pale rose wither away." + + +BOOK II + + + Now, man of croziers, shadows called our names + And then away, away, like whirling flames; + And now fled by, mist-covered, without sound, + The youth and lady and the deer and hound; + "Gaze no more on the phantoms," Niam said, + And kissed my eyes, and, swaying her bright head + And her bright body, sang of faery and man + Before God was or my old line began; + Wars shadowy, vast, exultant; faeries of old + Who wedded men with rings of Druid gold; + And how those lovers never turn their eyes + Upon the life that fades and flickers and dies, + But love and kiss on dim shores far away + Rolled round with music of the sighing spray: + But sang no more, as when, like a brown bee + That has drunk full, she crossed the misty sea + With me in her white arms a hundred years + Before this day; for now the fall of tears + Troubled her song. + + I do not know if days + Or hours passed by, yet hold the morning rays + Shone many times among the glimmering flowers + Woven into her hair, before dark towers + Rose in the darkness, and the white surf gleamed + About them; and the horse of faery screamed + And shivered, knowing the Isle of many Fears, + Nor ceased until white Niam stroked his ears + And named him by sweet names. + + A foaming tide + Whitened afar with surge, fan-formed and wide, + Burst from a great door marred by many a blow + From mace and sword and pole-axe, long ago + When gods and giants warred. We rode between + The seaweed-covered pillars, and the green + And surging phosphorus alone gave light + On our dark pathway, till a countless flight + Of moonlit steps glimmered; and left and right + Dark statues glimmered over the pale tide + Upon dark thrones. Between the lids of one + The imaged meteors had flashed and run + And had disported in the stilly jet, + And the fixed stars had dawned and shone and set, + Since God made Time and Death and Sleep: the other + Stretched his long arm to where, a misty smother, + The stream churned, churned, and churned--his lips apart, + As though he told his never slumbering heart + Of every foamdrop on its misty way: + Tying the horse to his vast foot that lay + Half in the unvesselled sea, we climbed the stairs + And climbed so long, I thought the last steps were + Hung from the morning star; when these mild words + Fanned the delighted air like wings of birds: + "My brothers spring out of their beds at morn, + "A-murmur like young partridge: with loud horn + "They chase the noontide deer; + "And when the dew-drowned stars hang in the air + "Look to long fishing-lines, or point and pare + "An ash-wood hunting spear. + + "O sigh, O fluttering sigh, be kind to me; + "Flutter along the froth lips of the sea, + "And shores, the froth lips wet: + "And stay a little while, and bid them weep: + "Ah, touch their blue-veined eyelids if they sleep, + "And shake their coverlet. + + "When you have told how I weep endlessly, + "Flutter along the froth lips of the sea + "And home to me again, + "And in the shadow of my hair lie hid, + "And tell me how you came to one unbid, + "The saddest of all men." + + A maiden with soft eyes like funeral tapers, + And face that seemed wrought out of moonlit vapours, + And a sad mouth, that fear made tremulous + As any ruddy moth, looked down on us; + And she with a wave-rusted chain was tied + To two old eagles, full of ancient pride, + That with dim eyeballs stood on either side. + Few feathers were on their dishevelled wings, + For their dim minds were with the ancient things. + + "I bring deliverance," pearl-pale Niam said. + + "Neither the living, nor the unlabouring dead, + "Nor the high gods who never lived, may fight + "My enemy and hope; demons for fright + "Jabber and scream about him in the night; + "For he is strong and crafty as the seas + "That sprang under the Seven Hazel Trees, + "And I must needs endure and hate and weep, + "Until the gods and demons drop asleep, + "Hearing Aed touch the mournful strings of gold." + + "Is he so dreadful?" + + "Be not over bold, + "But flee while you may flee from him." + + Then I: + "This demon shall be pierced and drop and die, + "And his loose bulk be thrown in the loud tide." + + "Flee from him," pearl-pale Niam weeping cried, + "For all men flee the demons"; but moved not + My angry, king remembering soul one jot; + There was no mightier soul of Heber's line; + Now it is old and mouse-like: for a sign + I burst the chain: still earless, nerveless, blind, + Wrapped in the things of the unhuman mind, + In some dim memory or ancient mood + Still earless, nerveless, blind, the eagles stood. + + And then we climbed the stair to a high door; + A hundred horsemen on the basalt floor + Beneath had paced content: we held our way + And stood within: clothed in a misty ray + I saw a foam-white seagull drift and float + Under the roof, and with a straining throat + Shouted, and hailed him: he hung there a star, + For no man's cry shall ever mount so far; + Not even your God could have thrown down that hall; + Stabling His unloosed lightnings in their stall, + He had sat down and sighed with cumbered heart, + As though His hour were come. + + We sought the part + That was most distant from the door; green slime + Made the way slippery, and time on time + Showed prints of sea-born scales, while down through it + The captive's journeys to and fro were writ + Like a small river, and, where feet touched, came + A momentary gleam of phosphorus flame. + Under the deepest shadows of the hall + That maiden found a ring hung on the wall, + And in the ring a torch, and with its flare + Making a world about her in the air, + Passed under a dim doorway, out of sight + And came again, holding a second light + Burning between her fingers, and in mine + Laid it and sighed: I held a sword whose shine + No centuries could dim: and a word ran + Thereon in Ogham letters, "Mananan"; + That sea god's name, who in a deep content + Sprang dripping, and, with captive demons sent + Out of the seven-fold seas, built the dark hall + Rooted in foam and clouds, and cried to all + The mightier masters of a mightier race; + And at his cry there came no milk-pale face + Under a crown of thorns and dark with blood, + But only exultant faces. + + Niam stood + With bowed head, trembling when the white blade shone, + But she whose hours of tenderness were gone + Had neither hope nor fear. I bade them hide + Under the shadows till the tumults died + Of the loud crashing and earth shaking fight, + Lest they should look upon some dreadful sight; + And thrust the torch between the slimy flags. + A dome made out of endless carven jags, + Where shadowy face flowed into shadowy face, + Looked down on me; and in the self-same place + I waited hour by hour, and the high dome, + Windowless, pillarless, multitudinous home + Of faces, waited; and the leisured gaze + Was loaded with the memory of days + Buried and mighty. When through the great door + The dawn came in, and glimmered on the floor + With a pale light, I journeyed round the hall + And found a door deep sunken in the wall, + The least of doors; beyond on a dim plain + A little runnel made a bubbling strain, + And on the runnel's stony and bare edge + A husky demon dry as a withered sedge + Swayed, crooning to himself an unknown tongue: + In a sad revelry he sang and swung + Bacchant and mournful, passing to and fro + His hand along the runnel's side, as though + The flowers still grew there: far on the sea's waste + Shaking and waving, vapour vapour chased, + While high frail cloudlets, fed with a green light, + Like drifts of leaves, immovable and bright, + Hung in the passionate dawn. He slowly turned: + A demon's leisure: eyes, first white, now burned + Like wings of kingfishers; and he arose + Barking. We trampled up and down with blows + Of sword and brazen battle-axe, while day + Gave to high noon and noon to night gave way; + And when at withering of the sun he knew + The Druid sword of Mananan, he grew + To many shapes; I lunged at the smooth throat + Of a great eel; it changed, and I but smote + A fir-tree roaring in its leafless top; + I held a dripping corpse, with livid chop + And sunken shape, against my face and breast, + When I tore down the tree; but when the west + Surged up in plumy fire, I lunged and drave + Through heart and spine, and cast him in the wave, + Lest Niam shudder. + + Full of hope and dread + Those two came carrying wine and meat and bread, + And healed my wounds with unguents out of flowers + That feed white moths by some De Danaan shrine; + Then in that hall, lit by the dim sea shine, + We lay on skins of otters, and drank wine, + Brewed by the sea-gods, from huge cups that lay + Upon the lips of sea-gods in their day; + And then on heaped-up skins of otters slept. + But when the sun once more in saffron stept, + Rolling his flagrant wheel out of the deep, + We sang the loves and angers without sleep, + And all the exultant labours of the strong: + + But now the lying clerics murder song + With barren words and flatteries of the weak. + In what land do the powerless turn the beak + Of ravening Sorrow, or the hand of Wrath? + For all your croziers, they have left the path + And wander in the storms and clinging snows, + Hopeless for ever: ancient Usheen knows, + For he is weak and poor and blind, and lies + On the anvil of the world. + + S. PATRIC + + Be still: the skies + Are choked with thunder, lightning, and fierce wind, + For God has heard, and speaks His angry mind; + Go cast your body on the stones and pray, + For He has wrought midnight and dawn and day. + + USHEEN + + Saint, do you weep? I hear amid the thunder + The Fenian horses; armour torn asunder; + Laughter and cries; the armies clash and shock; + All is done now; I see the ravens flock; + Ah, cease, you mournful, laughing Fenian horn! + + We feasted for three days. On the fourth morn + I found, dropping sea foam on the wide stair, + And hung with slime, and whispering in his hair, + That demon dull and unsubduable; + And once more to a day-long battle fell, + And at the sundown threw him in the surge, + To lie until the fourth morn saw emerge + His new healed shape: and for a hundred years + So warred, so feasted, with nor dreams nor fears, + Nor languor nor fatigue: and endless feast, + An endless war. + + The hundred years had ceased; + I stood upon the stair: the surges bore + A beech bough to me, and my heart grew sore, + Remembering how I had stood by white-haired Finn + Under a beech at Emen and heard the thin + Outcry of bats. + + And then young Niam came + Holding that horse, and sadly called my name; + I mounted, and we passed over the lone + And drifting grayness, while this monotone, + Surly and distant, mixed inseparably + Into the clangour of the wind and sea. + + "I hear my soul drop down into decay, + "And Mananan's dark tower, stone by stone, + "Gather sea slime and fall the seaward way, + "And the moon goad the waters night and day, + "That all be overthrown. + + "But till the moon has taken all, I wage + "War on the mightiest men under the skies, + "And they have fallen or fled, age after age: + "Light is man's love, and lighter is man's rage; + "His purpose drifts and dies." + + And then lost Niam murmured, "Love, we go + "To the Island of Forgetfulness, for lo! + "The Islands of Dancing and of Victories + "Are empty of all power." + + "And which of these + "Is the Island of Content?" + + "None know," she said; + And on my bosom laid her weeping head. + + +BOOK III + + + Fled foam underneath us, and around us, a wandering and milky smoke, + High as the saddle girth, covering away from our glances the tide; + And those that fled, and that followed, from the + foam-pale distance broke; + The immortal desire of immortals we saw in their faces, and sighed. + + I mused on the chase with the Fenians, and Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair, + And never a song sang Niam, and over my finger-tips + Came now the sliding of tears and sweeping of mist-cold hair, + And now the warmth of sighs, and after the quiver of lips. + + Were we days long or hours long in riding, when rolled in a grisly peace, + An isle lay level before us, with dripping hazel and oak? + And we stood on a sea's edge we saw not; for whiter + than new-washed fleece + Fled foam underneath us, and round us, a wandering and milky smoke. + + And we rode on the plains of the sea's edge; the sea's edge + barren and gray, + Gray sand on the green of the grasses and over the dripping trees, + Dripping and doubling landward, as though they would hasten away + Like an army of old men longing for rest from the moan of the seas. + + But the trees grew taller and closer, immense in their wrinkling bark; + Dropping; a murmurous dropping; old silence and that one sound; + For no live creatures lived there, no weasels moved in the dark: + Long sighs arose in our spirits, beneath us bubbled the ground. + + And the ears of the horse went sinking away in the hollow night, + For, as drift from a sailor slow drowning the gleams + of the world and the sun, + Ceased on our hands and our faces, on hazel and oak leaf, the light, + And the stars were blotted above us, and the whole of the world was one. + + Till the horse gave a whinny; for, cumbrous with stems + of the hazel and oak, + A valley flowed down from his hoofs, and there in the long grass lay, + Under the starlight and shadow, a monstrous slumbering folk, + Their naked and gleaming bodies poured out and heaped in the way. + + And by them were arrow and war-axe, arrow and shield and blade; + And dew-blanched horns, in whose hollow a child of three years old + Could sleep on a couch of rushes, and all inwrought and inlaid, + And more comely than man can make them with bronze and silver and gold. + + And each of the huge white creatures was huger than fourscore men; + The tops of their ears were feathered, their hands were + the claws of birds, + And, shaking the plumes of the grasses and the leaves of the mural glen, + The breathing came from those bodies, long-warless, + grown whiter than curds. + + The wood was so spacious above them, that He who had stars for His flocks + Could fondle the leaves with His fingers, nor go from + His dew-cumbered skies; + So long were they sleeping, the owls had builded their nests + in their locks, + Filling the fibrous dimness with long generations of eyes. + + And over the limbs and the valley the slow owls wandered and came, + Now in a place of star-fire, and now in a shadow place wide; + And the chief of the huge white creatures, his knees + in the soft star-flame, + Lay loose in a place of shadow: we drew the reins by his side. + + Golden the nails of his bird-claws, flung loosely along the dim ground; + In one was a branch soft-shining, with bells more many than sighs, + In midst of an old man's bosom; owls ruffling and pacing around, + Sidled their bodies against him, filling the shade with their eyes. + + And my gaze was thronged with the sleepers; no, + not since the world began, + In realms where the handsome were many, nor in glamours by demons flung, + Have faces alive with such beauty been known to the salt eye of man, + Yet weary with passions that faded when the seven-fold seas were young. + + And I gazed on the bell-branch, sleep's forebear, + far sung by the Sennachies. + I saw how those slumberers, grown weary, there camping in grasses deep, + Of wars with the wide world and pacing the shores of the wandering seas, + Laid hands on the bell-branch and swayed it, and fed of unhuman sleep. + + Snatching the horn of Niam, I blew a lingering note; + Came sound from those monstrous sleepers, a sound like + the stirring of flies. + He, shaking the fold of his lips, and heaving the pillar of his throat, + Watched me with mournful wonder out of the wells of his eyes. + + I cried, "Come out of the shadow, king of the nails of gold! + "And tell of your goodly household and the goodly works of your hands, + "That we may muse in the starlight and talk of the battles of old; + "Your questioner, Usheen, is worthy, he comes from the Fenian lands." + + Half open his eyes were, and held me, dull with + the smoke of their dreams; + His lips moved slowly in answer, no answer out of them came; + Then he swayed in his fingers the bell-branch, slow dropping + a sound in faint streams + Softer than snow-flakes in April and piercing the marrow like flame. + + Wrapt in the wave of that music, with weariness more than of earth, + The moil of my centuries filled me; and gone like a sea-covered stone + Were the memories of the whole of my sorrow and the memories + of the whole of my mirth, + And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone. + + In the roots of the grasses, the sorrels, I laid my body as low; + And the pearl-pale Niam lay by me, her brow on the midst of my breast; + And the horse was gone in the distance, and years after years 'gan flow; + Square leaves of the ivy moved over us, binding us down to our rest. + + And, man of the many white croziers, a century there I forgot; + How the fetlocks drip blood in the battle, when + the fallen on fallen lie rolled; + How the falconer follows the falcon in the weeds of the heron's plot, + And the names of the demons whose hammers made armour for Conhor of old. + + And, man of the many white croziers, a century there I forgot; + That the spear-shaft is made out of ashwood, the shield + out of ozier and hide; + How the hammers spring on the anvil, on the spearhead's burning spot; + How the slow, blue-eyed oxen of Finn low sadly at evening tide. + + But in dreams, mild man of the croziers, driving the dust + with their throngs, + Moved round me, of seamen or landsmen, all who are winter tales; + Came by me the kings of the Red Branch, with roaring + of laughter and songs, + Or moved as they moved once, love-making or piercing + the tempest with sails. + + Came Blanid, Mac Nessa, tall Fergus who feastward of old time slunk, + Cook Barach, the traitor; and warward, the spittle + on his beard never dry, + Dark Balor, as old as a forest, car borne, his mighty head sunk + Helpless, men lifting the lids of his weary and death-making eye. + + And by me, in soft red raiment, the Fenians moved in loud streams, + And Grania, walking and smiling, sewed with her needle of bone, + So lived I and lived not, so wrought I and wrought not, + with creatures of dreams, + In a long iron sleep, as a fish in the water goes dumb as a stone. + + At times our slumber was lightened. When the sun was on silver or gold; + When brushed with the wings of the owls, in the dimness + they love going by; + When a glow-worm was green on a grass leaf, lured from + his lair in the mould; + Half wakening, we lifted our eyelids, and gazed on the grass with a sigh. + + So watched I when, man of the croziers, at the heel of a century fell, + Weak, in the midst of the meadow, from his miles in the midst of the air, + A starling like them that forgathered 'neath a moon waking + white as a shell. + When the Fenians made foray at morning with Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair. + + I awoke: the strange horse without summons out of the distance ran, + Thrusting his nose to my shoulder; he knew in his bosom deep + That once more moved in my bosom the ancient sadness of man, + And that I would leave the immortals, their dimness, + their dews dropping sleep. + + O, had you seen beautiful Niam grow white as the waters are white, + Lord of the croziers, you even had lifted your hands and wept: + But, the bird in my fingers, I mounted, remembering alone that delight + Of twilight and slumber were gone, and that hoofs impatiently stept. + + I cried, "O Niam! O white one! if only a twelve-houred day, + "I must gaze on the beard of Finn, and move where the old men and young + "In the Fenians' dwellings of wattle lean on the chessboards and play, + "Ah, sweet to me now were even bald Conan's slanderous tongue! + + "Like me were some galley forsaken far off in Meridian isle. + "Remembering its long-oared companions, sails turning + to thread-bare rags; + "No more to crawl on the seas with long oars mile after mile, + "But to be amid shooting of flies and flowering of rushes and flags." + + Their motionless eyeballs of spirits grown mild with mysterious thought + Watched her those seamless faces from the valley's glimmering girth; + As she murmured, "O wandering Usheen, the strength of the + bell-branch is naught, + "For there moves alive in your fingers the fluttering sadness of earth. + + "Then go through the lands in the saddle and see what the mortals do, + "And softly come to your Niam over the tops of the tide; + "But weep for your Niam, O Usheen, weep; for if only your shoe + "Brush lightly as haymouse earth's pebbles, you will come + no more to my side. + + "O flaming lion of the world, O when will you turn to your rest?" + "I saw from a distant saddle; from the earth she made her moan; + "I would die like a small withered leaf in the autumn, + for breast unto breast + "We shall mingle no more, nor our gazes empty their sweetness lone. + + "In the isles of the farthest seas where only the spirits come. + "Were the winds less soft than the breath of a pigeon + who sleeps on her nest, + "Nor lost in the star-fires and odours the sound of the sea's vague drum? + "O flaming lion of the world, O when will you turn to your rest?" + + The wailing grew distant; I rode by the woods of the wrinkling bark, + Where ever is murmurous dropping, old silence and that one sound; + For no live creatures live there, no weasels move in the dark; + In a reverie forgetful of all things, over the bubbling ground. + + And I rode by the plains of the sea's edge, where all is barren and gray, + Gray sands on the green of the grasses and over the dripping trees, + Dripping and doubling landward, as though they would hasten away, + Like an army of old men lounging for rest from the moan of the seas. + + And the winds made the sands on the sea's edge turning and turning go, + As my mind made the names of the Fenians. Far from the hazel and oak, + I rode away on the surges, where, high as the saddle bow, + Fled foam underneath me, and round me, a wandering and milky smoke. + + Long fled the foam-flakes around me, the winds fled out of the vast, + Snatching the bird in secret; nor knew I, embosomed apart, + When they froze the cloth on my body like armour riveted fast, + For Remembrance, lifting her leanness, keened in the gates of my heart. + + Till fattening the winds of the morning, an odour of new-mown hay + Came, and my forehead fell low, and my tears like berries fell down; + Later a sound came, half lost in the sound of a shore far away, + From the great grass-barnacle calling, and later the shore-weeds brown. + + If I were as I once was, the strong hoofs crushing + the sand and the shells, + Coming out of the sea as the dawn comes, a chaunt of love on my lips, + Not coughing, my head on my knees, and praying, and wroth with the bells, + I would leave no saint's head on his body from Rachlin to Bera of ships. + + Making way from the kindling surges, I rode on a bridle-path + Much wondering to see upon all hands, of wattles and woodwork made, + Your bell-mounted churches, and guardless the sacred cairn and the rath, + And a small and a feeble populace stooping with mattock and spade. + + Or weeding or ploughing with faces a-shining with much-toil wet; + While in this place and that place, with bodies unglorious, + their chieftains stood, + Awaiting in patience the straw-death, croziered one, caught in your net: + Went the laughter of scorn from my mouth like the roaring + of wind in a wood. + + And because I went by them so huge and so speedy with eyes so bright, + Came after the hard gaze of youth, or an old man lifted his head: + And I rode and I rode, and I cried out, "The Fenians hunt + wolves in the night, + So sleep thee by daytime." A voice cried, "The Fenians + a long time are dead." + + A whitebeard stood hushed on the pathway, the flesh + of his face as dried grass, + And in folds round his eyes and his mouth, he sad + as a child without milk; + And the dreams of the islands were gone, and I knew how + men sorrow and pass, + And their hound, and their horse, and their love, and their eyes + that glimmer like silk. + + And wrapping my face in my hair, I murmured, "In old age they ceased"; + And my tears were larger than berries, and I murmured, + "Where white clouds lie spread + "On Crevroe or broad Knockfefin, with many of old they feast + "On the floors of the gods." He cried, "No, the gods + a long time are dead." + + And lonely and longing for Niam, I shivered and turned me about, + The heart in me longing to leap like a grasshopper into her heart; + I turned and rode to the westward, and followed the sea's old shout + Till I saw where Maive lies sleeping till starlight and midnight part. + + And there at the foot of the mountain, two carried a sack full of sand, + They bore it with staggering and sweating, but fell + with their burden at length: + Leaning down from the gem-studded saddle, I flung it + five yards with my hand, + With a sob for men waxing so weakly, a sob for the Fenian's old strength. + + The rest you have heard of, O croziered one; how, when divided the girth, + I fell on the path, and the horse went away like a summer fly; + And my years three hundred fell on me, and I rose, + and walked on the earth, + A creeping old man, full of sleep, with the spittle + on his beard never dry. + + How the men of the sand-sack showed me a church with its belfry in air; + Sorry place, where for swing of the war-axe in my dim eyes + the crozier gleams; + What place have Caolte and Conan, and Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair? + Speak, you too are old with your memories, an old man surrounded + with dreams. + + S. PATRIC + + Where the flesh of the footsole clingeth on the burning stones + is their place; + Where the demons whip them with wires on the burning stones of wide hell, + Watching the blessed ones move far off, and the smile on God's face, + Between them a gateway of brass, and the howl of the angels who fell. + + USHEEN + + Put the staff in my hands; for I go to the Fenians, O cleric, to chaunt + The war-songs that roused them of old; they will rise, making clouds + with their breath + Innumerable, singing, exultant; the clay underneath them shall pant, + And demons be broken in pieces, and trampled beneath them in death. + + And demons afraid in their darkness; deep horror of eyes and of wings, + Afraid their ears on the earth laid, shall listen and rise up and weep; + Hearing the shaking of shields and the quiver of stretched bowstrings, + Hearing hell loud with a murmur, as shouting and mocking we sweep. + + We will tear out the flaming stones, and batter the gateway of brass + And enter, and none sayeth "No" when there enters the strongly + armed guest; + Make clean as a broom cleans, and march on as oxen move over young grass; + Then feast, making converse of wars, and of old wounds, + and turn to our rest. + + S. PATRIC + + On the flaming stones, without refuge, the limbs of the Fenians are tost; + None war on the masters of Hell, who could break up the world + in their rage; + But kneel and wear out the flags and pray for your soul that is lost + Through the demon love of its youth and its godless and passionate age. + + USHEEN + + Ah, me! to be shaken with coughing and broken with old age and pain, + Without laughter, a show unto children, alone with remembrance and fear; + All emptied of purple hours as a beggar's cloak in the rain, + As a hay-cock out on the flood, or a wolf sucked under a weir. + + It were sad to gaze on the blessed and no man I loved of old there; + I throw down the chain of small stones! when life in my body has ceased, + I will go to Caolte, and Conan, and Bran, Sgeolan, Lomair, + And dwell in the house of the Fenians, be they in flames or at feast. + + + + +GLOSSARY AND NOTES + + +_The Pronunciation of the Irish Words._--When I wrote the greater number +of these poems I had hardly considered the question seriously. I copied +at times somebody's perhaps fanciful phonetic spelling, and at times the +ancient spelling as I found it in some literal translation, pronouncing +the words always as they were spelt. I do not suppose I would have +defended this system at any time, but I do not yet know what system to +adopt. The modern pronunciation, which is usually followed by those who +spell the words phonetically, is certainly unlike the pronunciation of +the time when classical Irish literature was written, and, so far as I +know, no Irish scholar who writes in English or French has made that +minute examination of the way the names come into the rhythms and +measures of the old poems which can alone discover the old +pronunciation. A French Celtic scholar gave me the pronunciation of a +few names, and told me that Mr. Whitley Stokes had written something +about the subject in German, but I am ignorant of German. If I ever +learn the old pronunciation, I will revise all these poems, but at +present I can only affirm that I have not treated my Irish names as +badly as the mediaeval writers of the stories of King Arthur treated +their Welsh names. + +_Mythological Gods and Heroes._--I refer the reader for such names as +Balor and Finn and Usheen to Lady Gregory's "Cuchulain of Muirthemne" +and to her "Gods and Fighting Men." + +_The Ballad of Father Gilligan._--A tradition among the people of +Castleisland, Kerry. + +_The Ballad of Father O'Hart._--This ballad is founded on the story of a +certain Father O'Hart, priest of Coloony, Sligo, in the last century, as +told by the present priest of Coloony in his _History of Ballisodare and +Kilvarnet_. The robbery of the lands of Father O'Hart was a kind of +robbery which occurred but rarely during the penal laws. Catholics, +forbidden to own landed property, evaded the law by giving a Protestant +nominal possession of their estates. There are instances on record in +which poor men were nominal owners of immense estates. + +_The Ballad of the Foxhunter._--Founded on an incident, probably itself +a Tipperary tradition, in Kickham's _Knockagow_. + +_Bell-branch._--A legendary branch whose shaking casts all men into a +sleep. + +_The Countess Cathleen._--I found the story of the Countess Cathleen in +what professed to be a collection of Irish folk-lore in an Irish +newspaper some years ago. I wrote to the compiler, asking about its +source, but got no answer, but have since heard that it was translated +from _Les Matinees de Timothe Trimm_ a good many years ago, and has been +drifting about the Irish press ever since. Leo Lespes gives it as an +Irish story, and though the editor of _Folklore_ has kindly advertised +for information, the only Christian variant I know of is a Donegal tale, +given by Mr. Larminie in his _West Irish Folk Tales and Romances_, of a +woman who goes to hell for ten years to save her husband, and stays +there another ten, having been granted permission to carry away as many +souls as could cling to her skirt. Leo Lespes may have added a few +details, but I have no doubt of the essential antiquity of what seems to +me the most impressive form of one of the supreme parables of the world. +The parable came to the Greeks in the sacrifice of Alcestis, but her +sacrifice was less overwhelming, less apparently irremediable. Leo +Lespes tells the story as follows:-- + + Ce que je vais vous dire est un recit du careme Irlandais. Le + boiteux, l'aveugle, le paralytique des rues de Dublin ou de + Limerick, vous le diraient mieux que moi, cher lecteur, si vous + alliez le leur demander, un sixpense d'argent a la main.--Il n'est + pas une jeune fille catholique a laquelle on ne l'ait appris + pendant les jours de preparation a la communion sainte, pas un + berger des bords de la Blackwater qui ne le puisse redire a la + veillee. + + Il y a bien longtemps qu'il apparut tout-a-coup dans la vielle + Irlande deux marchands inconnus dont personne n'avait oui parler, + et qui parlaient neanmoins avec la plus grande perfection la langue + du pays. Leurs cheveux etaient noirs et ferres avec de l'or et + leurs robes d'une grande magnificence. + + Tous deux semblaient avoir le meme age; ils paraissaient etre des + hommes de cinquante ans, car leur barbe grisonnait un peu. + + Or, a cette epoque, comme aujourd'hui, l'Irlande etait pauvre, car + le soleil avait ete rare, et des recoltes presque nulles. Les + indigents ne savaient a quel sainte se vouer, et la misere devenait + de plus en plus terrible. + + Dans l'hotellerie ou descendirent les marchands fastueux on chercha + a penetrer leurs desseins: mais ce fut en vain, ils demeurerent + silencieux et discrets. + + Et pendant qu'ils demeurerent dans l'hotellerie, ils ne cesserent + de compter et de recompter des sacs de pieces d'or, dont la vive + clarte s'apercevait a travers les vitres du logis. + + Gentlemen, leur dit l'hotesse un jour, d'ou vient que vous etes si + opulents, et que, venus pour secourir la misere publique, vous ne + fassiez pas de bonnes oeuvres? + + --Belle hotesse, repondit l'un d'eux, nous n'avons pas voulu aller + au-devant d'infortunes honorables, dans la crainte d'etre trompes + par des miseres fictives: que la douleur frappe a la porte, nous + ouvrirons. + + Le lendemain, quand on sut qu'il existait deux opulents etrangers + prets a prodiguer l'or, la foule assiegea leur logis; mais les + figures des gens qui en sortaient etaient bien diverses. Les uns + avaient la fierte dans le regard, les autres portaient la honte au + front. Les deux trafiquants achetaient des ames pour le demon. + L'ame d'un vieillard valait vingt pieces d'or, pas un penny de + plus; car Satan avait eu le temps d'y former hypotheque. L'ame + d'une epose en valait cinquante quand elle etait jolie, ou cent + quand elle etait laide. L'ame d'une jeune fille se payait des prix + fous: les fleurs les plus belles et les plus pures sont les plus + cheres. + + Pendant ce temps, il existait dans la ville un ange de beaute, la + comtesse Ketty O'Connor. Elle etait l'idole du peuple, et la + providence des indigents. Des qu'elle eut appris que des mecreants + profitaient de la misere publique pour derober des coeurs a Dieu, + elle fit appeler son majordome. + + --Master Patrick, lui dit elle, combien ai-je de pieces d'or dans + mon coffre? + + --Cent mille. + + --Combien de bijoux? + + --Peur autant d'argent. + + --Combien de chateux, de bois et de terres? + + --Pour le double de ces sommes. + + --Eh bien! Patrick, vendez tout ce qui n'est pas or et + apportez-m'en le montant. Je ne veux garder a moi que ce castel et + le champ qui l'entoure. + + Deux jours apres, les ordres de la pieuse Ketty etaient executes et + le tresor etait distribue aux pauvres au fur et a mesure de leurs + besoins. + + Ceci ne faisait pas le compte, dit la tradition, des + commis-voyageurs du malin esprit, qui ne trouvaient plus d'ames a + acheter. + + Aides par un valet infame, ils penetrerent dans la retraite de la + noble dame et lui deroberent le reste de son tresor ... en vain + lutta-t-elle de toutes ses forces pour sauver le contenu de son + coffre, les larrons diaboliques furent les plus forts. Si Ketty + avait eu les moyens de faire un signe de croix, ajoute la legende + Irlandaise, elle les eut mis en fuite, mais ses mains etaient + captives--Le larcin fut effectue. Alors les pauvres solliciterent + en vain pres de Ketty depouillee, elle ne pouvait plus secourir + leur misere;--elle les abandonnait a la tentation. Pourtant il n'y + avait plus que huit jours a passer pour que les grains et lea + fourrages arrivassent en abondance des pays d'Orient. Mais, huit + jours, c'etait un siecle: huit jours necessitaient une somme + immense pour subvenir aux exigences de la disette, et les pauvres + allaient ou expirer dans les angousses de la faim, ou, reniant les + saintes maximes de l'Evangile, vendre a vil prix leur ame, le plus + beau present de la munificence du Seigneur tout-puissant. + + Et Ketty n'avait plus une obole, car elle avait abandonne son + chateux aux malheureux. + + Elle passa douze heures dans les larmes et le deuil, arrachant ses + cheveux couleur de soleil et meurtrissant son sein couleur du lis: + puis elle se leva resolue, animee par un vif sentiment de + desespoir. + + Elle se rendit chez les marchands d'ames. + + --Que voulez-vous? dirent ils. + + --Vous achetez des ames? + + --Oui, un peu malgre vous, n'est ce pas, sainte aux yeux de saphir? + + --Aujourd'hui je viens vous proposer un marche, reprit elle. + + --Lequel? + + --J'ai une ame a vendre; mais elle est chere. + + --Qu'importe si elle est precieuse? l'ame, comme le diamant, + s'apprecie a sa blancheur. + + --C'est la mienne, dit Ketty. + + Les deux envoyes de Satan tressaillirent. Leurs griffes + s'allongerent sous leurs gants de cuir; leurs yeux gris + etincelerent--l'ame, pure, immaculee, virginale de Ketty!... + c'etait une acquisition inappreciable. + + --Gentille dame, combien voulez-vous? + + --Cent cinquante mille ecus d'or. + + --C'est fait, dirent les marchands: et ils tendirent a Ketty un + parchemin cachete de noir, qu'elle signa en frissonnant. + + La somme lui fut comptee. + + Des qu'elle fut rentree, elle dit au majordome: + + --Tenez, distribuez ceci. Avec la somme que je vous donne les + pauvres attendront la huitaine necessaire et pas une de leurs ames + ne sera livree au demon. + + Puis elle s'enferma et recommanda qu'on ne vint pas la deranger. + + Trois jours se passerent; elle n'appela pas; elle ne sortit pas. + + Quand on ouvrit sa porte, on la trouva raide et froide: elle etait + morte de douleur. + + Mais la vente de cette ame si adorable dans sa charite fut declaree + nulle par le Seigneur: car elle avait sauve ses concitoyens de la + morte eternelle. + + Apres la huitaine, des vaisseaux nombreux amenerent a l'Irlande + affamee d'immenses provisions de grains. + + La famine n'etait plus possible. Quant aux marchands, ils + disparurent de leur hotellerie, sans qu'on sut jamais ce qu'ils + etaient devenus. + + Toutefois, les pecheurs de la Blackwater pretendent qu'ils sont + enchaines dans une prison souterraine par ordre de Lucifer jusqu'au + moment ou ils pourront livrer l'ame de Ketty qui leur a echappe. Je + vous dis la legende telle que je la sais. + + --Mais les pauvres l'ont raconte d'age en age et les enfants de + Cork et de Dublin chantent encore la ballade dont voici les + derniers couplets:-- + + Pour sauver les pauvres qu'elle aime + Ketty donna + Son esprit, sa croyance meme: + Satan paya + Cette ame au devoument sublime, + En ecus d'or, + Disons pour racheter son crime, + _Confiteor_. + + Mais l'ange qui se fit coupable + Par charite + Au sejour d'amour ineffable + Est remonte. + Satan vaincu n'eut pas de prise + Sur ce coeur d'or; + Chantons sous la nef de l'eglise, + _Confiteor_. + + N'est ce pas que ce recit, ne de l'imagination des poetes + catholiques de la verte Erin, est une veritable recit de careme? + +_The Countess Cathleen_ was acted in Dublin in 1899, with Mr. Marcus St. +John and Mr. Trevor Lowe as the First and Second Demon, Mr. Valentine +Grace as Shemus Rua, Master Charles Sefton as Teig, Madame San Carola as +Mary, Miss Florence Farr as Aleel, Miss Anna Mather as Oona, Mr. Charles +Holmes as the Herdsman, Mr. Jack Wilcox as the Gardener, Mr. Walford as +a Peasant, Miss Dorothy Paget as a Spirit, Miss M. Kelly as a Peasant +Woman, Mr. T.E. Wilkinson as a Servant, and Miss May Whitty as The +Countess Kathleen. They had to face a very vehement opposition stirred +up by a politician and a newspaper, the one accusing me in a pamphlet, +the other in long articles day after day, of blasphemy because of the +language of the demons or of Shemus Rua, and because I made a woman sell +her soul and yet escape damnation, and of a lack of patriotism because I +made Irish men and women, who, it seems, never did such a thing, sell +theirs. The politician or the newspaper persuaded some forty Catholic +students to sign a protest against the play, and a Cardinal, who avowed +that he had not read it, to make another, and both politician and +newspaper made such obvious appeals to the audience to break the peace, +that a score or so of police were sent to the theatre to see that they +did not. I had, however, no reason to regret the result, for the stalls, +containing almost all that was distinguished in Dublin, and a gallery of +artisans alike insisted on the freedom of literature. + +After the performance in 1899 I added the love scene between Aleel and +the Countess, and in this new form the play was revived in New York by +Miss Wycherley as well as being played a good deal in England and +America by amateurs. Now at last I have made a complete revision to make +it suitable for performance at the Abbey Theatre. The first two scenes +are almost wholly new, and throughout the play I have added or left out +such passages as a stage experience of some years showed me encumbered +the action; the play in its first form having been written before I knew +anything of the theatre. I have left the old end, however, in the +version printed in the body of this book, because the change for +dramatic purposes has been made for no better reason than that +audiences--even at the Abbey Theatre--are almost ignorant of Irish +mythology--or because a shallow stage made the elaborate vision of armed +angels upon a mountain-side impossible. The new end is particularly +suited to the Abbey stage, where the stage platform can be brought out +in front of the proscenium and have a flight of steps at one side up +which the Angel comes, crossing towards the back of the stage at the +opposite side. The principal lighting is from two arc lights in the +balcony which throw their lights into the faces of the players, making +footlights unnecessary. The room at Shemus Rua's house is suggested by a +great grey curtain--a colour which becomes full of rich tints under the +stream of light from the arcs. The two or more arches in the third scene +permit the use of a gauze. The short front scene before the last is just +long enough when played with incidental music to allow the scene set +behind it to be changed. The play when played without interval in this +way lasts a little over an hour. + +The play was performed at the Abbey Theatre for the first time on +December 14, 1911, Miss Maire O'Neill taking the part of the Countess, +and the last scene from the going out of the Merchants was as follows:-- + + (MERCHANTS _rush out_. ALEEL _crawls into the middle of the room; + the twilight has fallen and gradually darkens as the scene goes + on_.) + + ALEEL + + They're rising up--they're rising through the earth, + Fat Asmodel and giddy Belial, + And all the fiends. Now they leap in the air. + But why does Hell's gate creak so? Round and round. + Hither and hither, to and fro they're running. + +(_He moves about as though the air was full of spirits._ OONA _enters_.) + + Crouch down, old heron, out of the blind storm. + + OONA + + Where is the Countess Cathleen? All this day + Her eyes were full of tears, and when for a moment + Her hand was laid upon my hand, it trembled. + And now I do not know where she is gone. + + ALEEL + + Cathleen has chosen other friends than us, + And they are rising through the hollow world. + Demons are out, old heron. + + OONA + + God guard her soul. + + ALEEL + + She's bartered it away this very hour, + As though we two were never in the world. + +(_He kneels beside her, but does not seem to hear her words. The_ +PEASANTS _return. They carry the_ COUNTESS CATHLEEN _and lay her upon +the ground before_ OONA _and_ ALEEL. _She lies there as if dead._) + + OONA + + O, that so many pitchers of rough clay + Should prosper and the porcelain break in two! + +(_She kisses the hands of_ CATHLEEN.) + + A PEASANT + + We were under the tree where the path turns + When she grew pale as death and fainted away. + + CATHLEEN + + O, hold me, and hold me tightly, for the storm + Is dragging me away. + +(OONA _takes her in her arms_. A WOMAN _begins to wail_.) + + PEASANTS + + Hush! + + PEASANTS + + Hush! + + PEASANT WOMEN + + Hush! + + OTHER PEASANT WOMEN + + Hush! + + CATHLEEN (_half rising_) + + Lay all the bags of money in a heap, + And when I am gone, old Oona, share them out + To every man and woman: judge, and give + According to their needs. + + A PEASANT WOMAN + + And will she give + Enough to keep my children through the dearth? + + ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN + + O, Queen of Heaven, and all you blessed saints, + Let us and ours be lost, so she be shriven. + + CATHLEEN + + Bend down your faces, Oona and Aleel; + I gaze upon them as the swallow gazes + Upon the nest under the eave, before + She wander the loud waters. Do not weep + Too great a while, for there is many a candle + On the High Altar though one fall. Aleel, + Who sang about the dancers of the woods, + That know not the hard burden of the world, + Having but breath in their kind bodies, farewell! + And farewell, Oona, you who played with me + And bore me in your arms about the house + When I was but a child--and therefore happy, + Therefore happy even like those that dance. + The storm is in my hair and I must go. + +(_She dies._) + + + OONA + + Bring me the looking-glass. + +(A WOMAN _brings it to her out of inner room_. OONA _holds glass over +the lips of_ CATHLEEN. _All is silent for a moment, then she speaks in a +half-scream._) + + O, she is dead! + + A PEASANT + + She was the great white lily of the world. + + A PEASANT + + She was more beautiful than the pale stars. + + AN OLD PEASANT WOMAN + + The little plant I loved is broken in two. + +(ALEEL _takes looking-glass from_ OONA _and flings it upon floor, so +that it is broken in many pieces_.) + + ALEEL + + I shatter you in fragments, for the face + That brimmed you up with beauty is no more; + And die, dull heart, for you that were a mirror + Are but a ball of passionate dust again! + And level earth and plumy sea, rise up! + And haughty sky, fall down! + + A PEASANT WOMAN + + Pull him upon his knees, + His curses will pluck lightning on our heads. + + ALEEL + + Angels and devils clash in the middle air, + And brazen swords clang upon brazen helms. + Look, look, a spear has gone through Belial's eye! + +(_A winged_ ANGEL, _carrying a torch and a sword, enters from the_ R. +_with eyes fixed upon some distant thing. The_ ANGEL _is about to pass +out to the_ L. _when_ ALEEL _speaks. The_ ANGEL _stops a moment and +turns_.) + + Look no more on the half-closed gates of Hell, + But speak to me whose mind is smitten of God, + That it may be no more with mortal things: + And tell of her who lies there. + +(_The_ ANGEL _turns again and is about to go, but is seized by_ ALEEL.) + + Till you speak + You shall not drift into eternity. + + THE ANGEL + + The light beats down; the gates of pearl are wide. + And she is passing to the floor of peace, + And Mary of the seven times wounded heart + Has kissed her lips, and the long blessed hair + Has fallen on her face; the Light of Lights + Looks always on the motive, not the deed, + The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone. + +(ALEEL _releases the_ ANGEL _and kneels_.) + + OONA + + Tell them to walk upon the floor of peace, + That I would die and go to her I love; + The years like great black oxen tread the world, + And God the herdsman goads them on behind, + And I am broken by their passing feet. + +_Down by the Salley Gardens._--An extension of three lines sung to me by +an old woman at Ballisodare. + +_Findrinny (Findruine)._--A kind of white bronze. + +_Finvarra (Finbar)._--The king of the faeries of Connaught. + +_Hell._--In the older Irish books Hell is always cold, and it may be +because the Fomoroh, or evil powers, ruled over the north and the +winter. Christianity adopted as far as possible the Pagan symbolism in +Ireland as elsewhere, and Irish poets, when they spoke of "the cold +flagstone of Hell," may have repeated Pagan symbolism. The folk-tales, +and Keating in his description of Hell, make use, however, of the +ordinary symbolism of fire. + +_The Lamentation of the Pensioner._--This poem is little more than a +translation into verse of the very words of an old Wicklow peasant. Fret +means doom or destiny. + +_The Land of Heart's Desire._--This little play was produced at the +Avenue Theatre in the spring of 1894, with the following cast:--Maurteen +Bruin, Mr. James Welch; Shawn Bruin, Mr. A.E.W. Mason; Father Hart, Mr. +G.R. Foss; Bridget Bruin, Miss Charlotte Morland; Maire Bruin, Miss +Winifred Fraser; A Faery Child, Miss Dorothy Paget. It ran for a little +over six weeks. It was revived in America in 1901, when it was taken on +tour by Mrs. Lemoyne. It has been played two or three times +professionally since then in America and a great many times in England +and America by amateurs. Till lately it was not part of the repertory of +the Abbey Theatre, for I had grown to dislike it without knowing what I +disliked in it. This winter, however, I have made many revisions and now +it plays well enough to give me pleasure. It is printed in this book in +the new form, which was acted for the first time on February 22, 1912, +at the Abbey Theatre, Dublin. At the Abbey Theatre, where the platform +of the stage comes out in front of the curtain, the curtain falls before +the priest's last words. He remains outside the curtain and the words +are spoken to the audience like an epilogue. + +_The Meditation of the Old Fisherman._--This poem is founded upon some +things a fisherman said to me when out fishing in Sligo Bay. + +_Northern Cold._--The Fomor, the powers of death and darkness and cold +and evil, came from the north. + +_Nuala._--The wife of Finvarra. + +_Rose._--The rose is a favourite symbol with the Irish poets, and has +given a name to several poems both Gaelic and English, and is used in +love poems, in addresses to Ireland like Mr. Aubrey de Vere's poem +telling how "The little black rose shall be red at last," and in +religious poems, like the old Gaelic one which speaks of "the Rose of +Friday," meaning the Rose of Austerity. + +_Salley._--Willow. + +_Seven Hazel-trees._--There was once a well overshadowed by seven sacred +hazel-trees, in the midst of Ireland. A certain woman plucked their +fruit, and seven rivers arose out of the well and swept her away. In my +poems this well is the source of all the waters of this world, which are +therefore seven-fold. + +_The Wanderings of Usheen._--The poem is founded upon the middle Irish +dialogues of S. Patric and Usheen and a certain Gaelic poem of the last +century. The events it describes, like the events in most of the poems +in this volume, are supposed to have taken place rather in the +indefinite period, made up of many periods, described by the folk-tales, +than in any particular century; it therefore, like the later Fenian +stories themselves, mixes much that is mediaeval with much that is +ancient. The Gaelic poems do not make Usheen go to more than one island, +but a story in _Silva Gadelica_ describes "four paradises," an island to +the north, an island to the west, an island to the south, and Adam's +paradise in the east. + + _Printed in Great Britain by_ + + UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED + WOKING AND LONDON + + Transcriber's Notes: + Page 16: 'thictkes' changed to 'thickets' + Page 172: 'He brings in' could be 'She brings in' + Page 263: 'Before this duy' changed to 'Before this day' + Page 290: 'Far from the hazel and oak.' changed to 'Far from + the hazel and oak,' + Page 295: 'move far off' could be 'move far oft' + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by W. B. Yeats + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 38877.txt or 38877.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/8/7/38877/ + +Produced by Irma Spehar, Rory OConor and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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