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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/30652-h.zip b/30652-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ddc0a30 --- /dev/null +++ b/30652-h.zip diff --git a/30652-h/30652-h.htm b/30652-h/30652-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..23e70b8 --- /dev/null +++ b/30652-h/30652-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3238 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= + "text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of In the Seven Woods, by William Butler Yeats. + </title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + body { margin-left: 12%; margin-right: 12%; text-align: justify; } + p { margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + p.noind { margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; text-indent: 0; } + p.person { font-variant: small-caps; font-style: normal; font-size: 80%; + margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; text-indent: 0; margin-left: 10em; } + + h2,h3,h4,h5,h6, .center { text-align: center; } + hr { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; width: 70%; height: 5px; background-color: #dcdcdc; border: none;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + hr.short {width: 20%; height: 2px;} + hr.art { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 40%; height: 5px; background-color: #708090; + margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em } + + table.reg { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both; } + table p { margin-left: 1.5em; text-indent: -1.5em; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; } + table p.l { padding-top: 0.5em; padding-bottom: 0.5em; } + + a:link, a:visited, link {text-decoration: none} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-style: normal; } + .f80 {font-size: 80%} + .f90 {font-size: 90%} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 5%; text-align: right; font-size: 10pt; + background-color: #f5f5f5; color: #778899; text-indent: 0; + padding-left: 0.5em; padding-right: 0.5em; font-style: normal; } + + .figcenter {text-align: center; padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 1em;} + + div.poemr {margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + div.poemr p, div.play p {margin-left: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; } + div.poemr p.s { margin-top: 1.5em; } + div.poemr p.i1 { margin-left: 1em; } + div.poemr p.i4 { margin-left: 4em; } + div.poemr p.i5 { margin-left: 5em; } + div.poemr p.i6 { margin-left: 6em; } + div.poemr p.i7 { margin-left: 7em; } + div.poemr p.i8 { margin-left: 8em; } + div.poemr p.i10 { margin-left: 10em; } + div.poemr p.i12 { margin-left: 12em; } + div.poemr p.i14 { margin-left: 14em; } + div.poemr p.i16 { margin-left: 16em; } + + div.pl {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%} + + div.quote { margin-left: 2em; font-size: 90%; line-height: 1.2em; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em; } + div.quote p { margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em; } + + .pd05 {padding-top: 0.5em;} + .pd2 {padding-top: 2em;} + .pd3 {padding-top: 3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's In The Seven Woods, by William Butler (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: In The Seven Woods + Being Poems Chiefly of the Irish Heroic Age + +Author: William Butler (W.B.) Yeats + +Release Date: December 11, 2009 [EBook #30652] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE SEVEN WOODS *** + + + + +Produced by Marius Masi, Meredith Bach and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="pd3"> </div> + +<hr class="full" /> +<h3>IN THE SEVEN WOODS</h3> +<hr class="full" /> +<div class="pd2"> </div> + +<table class="reg" style="border: 1px solid black; font-size: 80%;" cellspacing="10" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p class="l">BY THE SAME WRITER</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:50px; height:47px" + src="images/img1.jpg" + alt="Decoration" /> +</div> + +<p class="l"><span class="sc">The Secret Rose</span></p> + +<p class="l"><span class="sc">The Celtic Twilight</span></p> + +<p class="l"><span class="sc">Poems</span></p> + +<p class="l"><span class="sc">The Wind among the Reeds</span></p> + +<p class="l"><span class="sc">The Shadowy Waters</span></p> + +<p class="l"><span class="sc">Ideas of Good and Evil</span></p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> +<div class="pd3"> </div> + + + +<h2>IN THE SEVEN WOODS</h2> + +<h4>Being Poems Chiefly of the<br /> +Irish Heroic Age</h4> + +<div class="pd05"> </div> +<h6>BY</h6> + +<h4>W. B. YEATS</h4> + +<div class="pd3"> </div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:100px; height:29px" + src="images/img2.jpg" + alt="Decoration" /> +</div> + +<h4>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</h4> + +<h6><span class="sc">LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd.</span></h6> + +<h6>1903</h6> + +<h6><i>All rights reserved</i></h6> + + +<div class="pd3"> </div> +<p style="font-size: 75%;" class="center"><span class="sc">Copyright, 1903</span>,<br /> + +<span class="sc">By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</span>.<br /> + +Set up, electrotyped, and published August, 1903.</p> + +<div class="pd3"> </div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:100px; height:20px" + src="images/img3.jpg" + alt="Decoration" /> +</div> + +<p style="font-size: 75%;" class="center">J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith Co.<br /> + +Norwood, Mass. U.S.A.</p> + + + + +<div class="pd3"> </div> +<hr class="full" /> +<h3>IN THE SEVEN WOODS</h3> +<hr class="full" /> +<div class="pd2"> </div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page1"></a>1</span></p> +<h3>IN THE SEVEN WOODS: BEING<br /> +POEMS CHIEFLY OF THE<br /> +IRISH HEROIC AGE.</h3> +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pd3"> </div> + + +<h3>IN THE SEVEN WOODS.</h3> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>I have heard the pigeons of the Seven Woods</p> +<p>Make their faint thunder, and the garden bees</p> +<p>Hum in the lime tree flowers; and put away</p> +<p>The unavailing outcries and the old bitterness</p> +<p>That empty the heart. I have forgot awhile</p> +<p>Tara uprooted, and new commonness</p> +<p>Upon the throne and crying about the streets</p> +<p>And hanging its paper flowers from post to post,</p> +<p>Because it is alone of all things happy.</p> +<p>I am contented for I know that Quiet</p> +<p>Wanders laughing and eating her wild heart</p> +<p>Among pigeons and bees, while that Great Archer,</p> +<p>Who but awaits His hour to shoot, still hangs</p> +<p>A cloudy quiver over Parc-na-Lee.</p> + +<p>August, 1902.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page2"></a>2</span></p> +<h3>THE OLD AGE OF QUEEN MAEVE.</h3> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Maeve the great queen was pacing to and fro,</p> +<p>Between the walls covered with beaten bronze,</p> +<p>In her high house at Cruachan; the long hearth,</p> +<p>Flickering with ash and hazel, but half showed</p> +<p>Where the tired horse-boys lay upon the rushes,</p> +<p>Or on the benches underneath the walls,</p> +<p>In comfortable sleep; all living slept</p> +<p>But that great queen, who more than half the night</p> +<p>Had paced from door to fire and fire to door.</p> +<p>Though now in her old age, in her young age</p> +<p>She had been beautiful in that old way</p> +<p>That’s all but gone; for the proud heart is gone</p> +<p>And the fool heart of the counting-house fears all</p> +<p>But soft beauty and indolent desire.</p> +<p>She could have called over the rim of the world</p> +<p>Whatever woman’s lover had hit her fancy,</p> +<p>And yet had been great bodied and great limbed,</p> +<p>Fashioned to be the mother of strong children;</p> +<p>And she’d had lucky eyes and a high heart,</p> +<p>And wisdom that caught fire like the dried flax,</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page3"></a>3</span></p> +<p>At need, and made her beautiful and fierce,</p> +<p>Sudden and laughing.</p> + <p class="i8">O unquiet heart,</p> +<p>Why do you praise another, praising her,</p> +<p>As if there were no tale but your own tale</p> +<p>Worth knitting to a measure of sweet sound?</p> +<p>Have I not bid you tell of that great queen</p> +<p>Who has been buried some two thousand years?</p> + +<p class="s">When night was at its deepest, a wild goose</p> +<p>Cried from the porter’s lodge, and with long clamour</p> +<p>Shook the ale horns and shields upon their hooks;</p> +<p>But the horse-boys slept on, as though some power</p> +<p>Had filled the house with Druid heaviness;</p> +<p>And wondering who of the many changing Sidhe</p> +<p>Had come as in the old times to counsel her,</p> +<p>Maeve walked, yet with slow footfall being old,</p> +<p>To that small chamber by the outer gate.</p> +<p>The porter slept although he sat upright</p> +<p>With still and stony limbs and open eyes.</p> +<p>Maeve waited, and when that ear-piercing noise</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page4"></a>4</span></p> +<p>Broke from his parted lips and broke again,</p> +<p>She laid a hand on either of his shoulders,</p> +<p>And shook him wide awake, and bid him say</p> +<p>Who of the wandering many-changing ones</p> +<p>Had troubled his sleep. But all he had to say</p> +<p>Was that, the air being heavy and the dogs</p> +<p>More still than they had been for a good month,</p> +<p>He had fallen asleep, and, though he had dreamed nothing,</p> +<p>He could remember when he had had fine dreams.</p> +<p>It was before the time of the great war</p> +<p>Over the White-Horned Bull, and the Brown Bull.</p> + +<p class="s">She turned away; he turned again to sleep</p> +<p>That no god troubled now, and, wondering</p> +<p>What matters were afoot among the Sidhe,</p> +<p>Maeve walked through that great hall, and with a sigh</p> +<p>Lifted the curtain of her sleeping room,</p> +<p>Remembering that she too had seemed divine</p> +<p>To many thousand eyes, and to her own</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page5"></a>5</span></p> +<p>One that the generations had long waited</p> +<p>That work too difficult for mortal hands</p> +<p>Might be accomplished. Bunching the curtain up</p> +<p>She saw her husband Ailell sleeping there,</p> +<p>And thought of days when he’d had a straight body,</p> +<p>And of that famous Fergus, Nessa’s husband,</p> +<p>Who had been the lover of her middle life.</p> + +<p class="s">Suddenly Ailell spoke out of his sleep,</p> +<p>And not with his own voice or a man’s voice,</p> +<p>But with the burning, live, unshaken voice</p> +<p>Of those that it may be can never age.</p> +<p>He said, ‘High Queen of Cruachan and Mag Ai</p> +<p>A king of the Great Plain would speak with you.’</p> +<p>And with glad voice Maeve answered him, ‘What King</p> +<p>Of the far wandering shadows has come to me?</p> +<p>As in the old days when they would come and go</p> +<p>About my threshold to counsel and to help.’</p> +<p>The parted lips replied, ‘I seek your help,</p> +<p>For I am Aengus and I am crossed in love.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page6"></a>6</span></p> +<p class="s">‘How may a mortal whose life gutters out</p> +<p>Help them that wander with hand clasping hand</p> +<p>By rivers where nor rain nor hail has dimmed</p> +<p>Their haughty images, that cannot fade</p> +<p>Although their beauty’s like a hollow dream.’</p> + +<p class="s">‘I come from the undimmed rivers to bid you call</p> +<p>The children of the Maines out of sleep,</p> +<p>And set them digging into Anbual’s hill.</p> +<p>We shadows, while they uproot his earthy house,</p> +<p>Will overthrow his shadows and carry off</p> +<p>Caer, his blue eyed daughter that I love.</p> +<p>I helped your fathers when they built these walls</p> +<p>And I would have your help in my great need,</p> +<p>Queen of high Cruachan.’</p> + <p class="i10">‘I obey your will</p> +<p>With speedy feet and a most thankful heart:</p> +<p>For you have been, O Aengus of the birds,</p> +<p>Our giver of good counsel and good luck.’</p> +<p>And with a groan, as if the mortal breath</p> +<p>Could but awaken sadly upon lips</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page7"></a>7</span></p> +<p>That happier breath had moved, her husband turned</p> +<p>Face downward, tossing in a troubled sleep;</p> +<p>But Maeve, and not with a slow feeble foot,</p> +<p>Came to the threshold of the painted house,</p> +<p>Where her grandchildren slept, and cried aloud,</p> +<p>Until the pillared dark began to stir</p> +<p>With shouting and the clang of unhooked arms.</p> + +<p class="s">She told them of the many-changing ones;</p> +<p>And all that night, and all through the next day</p> +<p>To middle night, they dug into the hill.</p> +<p>At middle night great cats with silver claws,</p> +<p>Bodies of shadow and blind eyes like pearls,</p> +<p>Came up out of the hole, and red-eared hounds</p> +<p>With long white bodies came out of the air</p> +<p>Suddenly, and ran at them and harried them.</p> + +<p class="s">The Maines’ children dropped their spades, and stood</p> +<p>With quaking joints and terror strucken faces,</p> +<p>Till Maeve called out, ‘These are but common men.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page8"></a>8</span></p> +<p>The Maines’ children have not dropped their spades</p> +<p>Because Earth crazy for its broken power</p> +<p>Casts up a show and the winds answer it</p> +<p>With holy shadows.’ Her high heart was glad,</p> +<p>And when the uproar ran along the grass</p> +<p>She followed with light footfall in the midst,</p> +<p>Till it died out where an old thorn tree stood.</p> + +<p class="s">Friend of these many years, you too had stood</p> +<p>With equal courage in that whirling rout;</p> +<p>For you, although you’ve not her wandering heart,</p> +<p>Have all that greatness, and not hers alone.</p> +<p>For there is no high story about queens</p> +<p>In any ancient book but tells of you,</p> +<p>And when I’ve heard how they grew old and died</p> +<p>Or fell into unhappiness I’ve said;</p> +<p>‘She will grow old and die and she has wept!’</p> +<p>And when I’d write it out anew, the words,</p> +<p>Half crazy with the thought, She too has wept!</p> +<p>Outrun the measure.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page9"></a>9</span></p> + <p class="i8">I’d tell of that great queen</p> +<p>Who stood amid a silence by the thorn</p> +<p>Until two lovers came out of the air</p> +<p>With bodies made out of soft fire. The one</p> +<p>About whose face birds wagged their fiery wings</p> +<p>Said, ‘Aengus and his sweetheart give their thanks</p> +<p>To Maeve and to Maeve’s household, owing all</p> +<p>In owing them the bride-bed that gives peace.’</p> +<p>Then Maeve, ‘O Aengus, Master of all lovers,</p> +<p>A thousand years ago you held high talk</p> +<p>With the first kings of many pillared Cruachan.</p> +<p>O when will you grow weary.’</p> + <p class="i12">They had vanished,</p> +<p>But out of the dark air over her head there came</p> +<p>A murmur of soft words and meeting lips.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h3>BAILE AND AILLINN.</h3> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Argument. Baile and Aillinn were lovers, but</p> +<p>Aengus, the Master of Love, wishing them to be</p> +<p>happy in his own land among the dead, told to</p> +<p>each a story of the other’s death, so that their</p> +<p>hearts were broken and they died.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page10"></a>10</span></p> +<p>I hardly hear the curlew cry,</p> +<p>Nor the grey rush when wind is high,</p> +<p>Before my thoughts begin to run</p> +<p>On the heir of Ulad, Buan’s son,</p> +<p>Baile who had the honey mouth,</p> +<p>And that mild woman of the south,</p> +<p>Aillinn, who was King Lugaid’s heir.</p> +<p>Their love was never drowned in care</p> +<p>Of this or that thing, nor grew cold</p> +<p>Because their bodies had grown old;</p> +<p>Being forbid to marry on earth</p> +<p>They blossomed to immortal mirth.</p> + +<p class="s">About the time when Christ was born,</p> +<p>When the long wars for the White Horn</p> +<p>And the Brown Bull had not yet come,</p> +<p>Young Baile Honey-Mouth, whom some</p> +<p>Called rather Baile Little-Land,</p> +<p>Rode out of Emain with a band</p> +<p>Of harpers and young men, and they</p> +<p>Imagined, as they struck the way</p> +<p>To many pastured Muirthemne,</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page11"></a>11</span></p> +<p>That all things fell out happily</p> +<p>And there, for all that fools had said,</p> +<p>Baile and Aillinn would be wed.</p> + +<p class="s">They found an old man running there,</p> +<p>He had ragged long grass-yellow hair;</p> +<p>He had knees that stuck out of his hose;</p> +<p>He had puddle water in his shoes;</p> +<p>He had half a cloak to keep him dry;</p> +<p>Although he had a squirrel’s eye.</p> + +<p class="s">O wandering birds and rushy beds</p> +<p>You put such folly in our heads</p> +<p>With all this crying in the wind</p> +<p>No common love is to our mind,</p> +<p>And our poor Kate or Nan is less</p> +<p>Than any whose unhappiness</p> +<p>Awoke the harp strings long ago.</p> +<p>Yet they that know all things but know</p> +<p>That all life had to give us is</p> +<p>A child’s laughter, a woman’s kiss.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page12"></a>12</span></p> +<p class="s">Who was it put so great a scorn</p> +<p>In the grey reeds that night and morn</p> +<p>Are trodden and broken by the herds,</p> +<p>And in the light bodies of birds</p> +<p>That north wind tumbles to and fro</p> +<p>And pinches among hail and snow?</p> + +<p class="s">That runner said, ‘I am from the south;</p> +<p>I run to Baile Honey-Mouth</p> +<p>To tell him how the girl Aillinn</p> +<p>Rode from the country of her kin</p> +<p>And old and young men rode with her:</p> +<p>For all that country had been astir</p> +<p>If anybody half as fair</p> +<p>Had chosen a husband anywhere</p> +<p>But where it could see her every day.</p> +<p>When they had ridden a little way</p> +<p>An old man caught the horse’s head</p> +<p>With “You must home again and wed</p> +<p>With somebody in your own land.”</p> +<p>A young man cried and kissed her hand</p> +<p>“O lady, wed with one of us;”</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page13"></a>13</span></p> +<p>And when no face grew piteous</p> +<p>For any gentle thing she spake</p> +<p>She fell and died of the heart-break.’</p> + +<p class="s">Because a lover’s heart’s worn out</p> +<p>Being tumbled and blown about</p> +<p>By its own blind imagining,</p> +<p>And will believe that anything</p> +<p>That is bad enough to be true, is true,</p> +<p>Baile’s heart was broken in two;</p> +<p>And he being laid upon green boughs</p> +<p>Was carried to the goodly house</p> +<p>Where the Hound of Ulad sat before</p> +<p>The brazen pillars of his door;</p> +<p>His face bowed low to weep the end</p> +<p>Of the harper’s daughter and her friend;</p> +<p>For although years had passed away</p> +<p>He always wept them on that day,</p> +<p>For on that day they had been betrayed;</p> +<p>And now that Honey-Mouth is laid</p> +<p>Under a cairn of sleepy stone</p> +<p>Before his eyes, he has tears for none,</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page14"></a>14</span></p> +<p>Although he is carrying stone, but two</p> +<p>For whom the cairn’s but heaped anew.</p> + +<p class="s">We hold because our memory is</p> +<p>So full of that thing and of this</p> +<p>That out of sight is out of mind.</p> +<p>But the grey rush under the wind</p> +<p>And the grey bird with crooked bill</p> +<p>Have such long memories that they still</p> +<p>Remember Deirdre and her man,</p> +<p>And when we walk with Kate or Nan</p> +<p>About the windy water side</p> +<p>Our heart can hear the voices chide.</p> +<p>How could we be so soon content</p> +<p>Who know the way that Naoise went?</p> +<p>And they have news of Deirdre’s eyes</p> +<p>Who being lovely was so wise,</p> +<p>Ah wise, my heart knows well how wise.</p> + +<p class="s">Now had that old gaunt crafty one,</p> +<p>Gathering his cloak about him, run</p> +<p>Where Aillinn rode with waiting maids</p> +<p>Who amid leafy lights and shades</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page15"></a>15</span></p> +<p>Dreamed of the hands that would unlace</p> +<p>Their bodices in some dim place</p> +<p>When they had come to the marriage bed;</p> +<p>And harpers pondering with bowed head</p> +<p>A music that had thought enough</p> +<p>Of the ebb of all things to make love</p> +<p>Grow gentle without sorrowings;</p> +<p>And leather-coated men with slings</p> +<p>Who peered about on every side;</p> +<p>And amid leafy light he cried,</p> +<p>‘He is well out of wind and wave,</p> +<p>They have heaped the stones above his grave</p> +<p>In Muirthemne and over it</p> +<p>In changeless Ogham letters writ</p> +<p>Baile that was of Rury’s seed.</p> +<p>But the gods long ago decreed</p> +<p>No waiting maid should ever spread</p> +<p>Baile and Aillinn’s marriage bed,</p> +<p>For they should clip and clip again</p> +<p>Where wild bees hive on the Great Plain.</p> +<p>Therefore it is but little news</p> +<p>That put this hurry in my shoes.’</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page16"></a>16</span></p> +<p>And hurrying to the south he came</p> +<p>To that high hill the herdsmen name</p> +<p>The Hill Seat of Leighin, because</p> +<p>Some god or king had made the laws</p> +<p>That held the land together there,</p> +<p>In old times among the clouds of the air.</p> + +<p class="s">That old man climbed; the day grew dim;</p> +<p>Two swans came flying up to him</p> +<p>Linked by a gold chain each to each</p> +<p>And with low murmuring laughing speech</p> +<p>Alighted on the windy grass.</p> +<p>They knew him: his changed body was</p> +<p>Tall, proud and ruddy, and light wings</p> +<p>Were hovering over the harp strings</p> +<p>That Etain, Midhir’s wife, had wove</p> +<p>In the hid place, being crazed by love.</p> + +<p class="s">What shall I call them? fish that swim</p> +<p>Scale rubbing scale where light is dim</p> +<p>By a broad water-lily leaf;</p> +<p>Or mice in the one wheaten sheaf</p> +<p>Forgotten at the threshing place;</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page17"></a>17</span></p> +<p>Or birds lost in the one clear space</p> +<p>Of morning light in a dim sky;</p> +<p>Or it may be, the eyelids of one eye</p> +<p>Or the door pillars of one house,</p> +<p>Or two sweet blossoming apple boughs</p> +<p>That have one shadow on the ground;</p> +<p>Or the two strings that made one sound</p> +<p>Where that wise harper’s finger ran;</p> +<p>For this young girl and this young man</p> +<p>Have happiness without an end</p> +<p>Because they have made so good a friend.</p> + +<p class="s">They know all wonders, for they pass</p> +<p>The towery gates of Gorias</p> +<p>And Findrias and Falias</p> +<p>And long-forgotten Murias,</p> +<p>Among the giant kings whose hoard</p> +<p>Cauldron and spear and stone and sword</p> +<p>Was robbed before Earth gave the wheat;</p> +<p>Wandering from broken street to street</p> +<p>They come where some huge watcher is</p> +<p>And tremble with their love and kiss.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page18"></a>18</span></p> +<p>They know undying things, for they</p> +<p>Wander where earth withers away,</p> +<p>Though nothing troubles the great streams</p> +<p>But light from the pale stars, and gleams</p> +<p>From the holy orchards, where there is none</p> +<p>But fruit that is of precious stone,</p> +<p>Or apples of the sun and moon.</p> + +<p class="s">What were our praise to them: they eat</p> +<p>Quiet’s wild heart, like daily meat,</p> +<p>Who when night thickens are afloat</p> +<p>On dappled skins in a glass boat</p> +<p>Far out under a windless sky,</p> +<p>While over them birds of Aengus fly,</p> +<p>And over the tiller and the prow</p> +<p>And waving white wings to and fro</p> +<p>Awaken wanderings of light air</p> +<p>To stir their coverlet and their hair.</p> + +<p class="s">And poets found, old writers say,</p> +<p>A yew tree where his body lay,</p> +<p>But a wild apple hid the grass</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page19"></a>19</span></p> +<p>With its sweet blossom where hers was;</p> +<p>And being in good heart, because</p> +<p>A better time had come again</p> +<p>After the deaths of many men,</p> +<p>And that long fighting at the ford,</p> +<p>They wrote on tablets of thin board,</p> +<p>Made of the apple and the yew,</p> +<p>All the love stories that they knew.</p> + +<p class="s">Let rush and bird cry out their fill</p> +<p>Of the harper’s daughter if they will,</p> +<p>Beloved, I am not afraid of her</p> +<p>She is not wiser nor lovelier,</p> +<p>And you are more high of heart than she</p> +<p>For all her wanderings over-sea;</p> +<p>But I’d have bird and rush forget</p> +<p>Those other two, for never yet</p> +<p>Has lover lived but longed to wive</p> +<p>Like them that are no more alive.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page20"></a>20</span></p> +<h3>THE ARROW.</h3> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>I thought of your beauty and this arrow</p> +<p>Made out of a wild thought is in my marrow.</p> +<p>There’s no man may look upon her, no man,</p> +<p>As when newly grown to be a woman,</p> +<p>Blossom pale, she pulled down the pale blossom</p> +<p>At the moth hour and hid it in her bosom.</p> +<p>This beauty’s kinder yet for a reason</p> +<p>I could weep that the old is out of season.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h3>THE FOLLY OF BEING COMFORTED.</h3> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>One that is ever kind said yesterday:</p> +<p>‘Your well beloved’s hair has threads of grey</p> +<p>And little shadows come about her eyes;</p> +<p>Time can but make it easier to be wise</p> +<p>Though now it’s hard, till trouble is at an end;</p> +<p>And so be patient, be wise and patient, friend.’</p> +<p>But heart, there is no comfort, not a grain.</p> +<p>Time can but make her beauty over again</p> +<p>Because of that great nobleness of hers;</p> +<p>The fire that stirs about her, when she stirs</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page21"></a>21</span></p> +<p>Burns but more clearly; O she had not these ways</p> +<p>When all the wild summer was in her gaze.</p> +<p>O heart, O heart, if she’d but turn her head,</p> +<p>You’d know the folly of being comforted.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h3>THE WITHERING OF THE BOUGHS.</h3> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>I cried when the moon was murmuring to the birds,</p> +<p>‘Let peewit call and curlew cry where they will,</p> +<p>I long for your merry and tender and pitiful words,</p> +<p>For the roads are unending and there is no place to my mind.’</p> +<p>The honey-pale moon lay low on the sleepy hill</p> +<p>And I fell asleep upon lonely Echtge of streams;</p> +<p>No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind,</p> +<p>The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams.</p> + +<p class="s">I know of the leafy paths that the witches take,</p> +<p>Who come with their crowns of pearl and their spindles of wool,</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page22"></a>22</span></p> +<p>And their secret smile, out of the depths of the lake;</p> +<p>And of apple islands where the Danaan kind</p> +<p>Wind and unwind their dances when the light grows cool</p> +<p>On the island lawns, their feet where the pale foam gleams;</p> +<p>No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind,</p> +<p>The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams.</p> + +<p class="s">I know of the sleepy country, where swans fly round</p> +<p>Coupled with golden chains and sing as they fly,</p> +<p>A king and a queen are wandering there, and the sound</p> +<p>Has made them so happy and hopeless, so deaf and so blind</p> +<p>With wisdom, they wander till all the years have gone by;</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page23"></a>23</span></p> +<p>I know, and the curlew and peewit on Echtge of streams;</p> +<p>No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind,</p> +<p>The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h3>ADAM’S CURSE.</h3> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>We sat together at one summer’s end</p> +<p>That beautiful mild woman your close friend</p> +<p>And you and I, and talked of poetry.</p> + +<p class="s">I said ‘a line will take us hours maybe,</p> +<p>Yet if it does not seem a moment’s thought</p> +<p>Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.</p> +<p>Better go down upon your marrow bones</p> +<p>And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones</p> +<p>Like an old pauper in all kinds of weather;</p> +<p>For to articulate sweet sounds together</p> +<p>Is to work harder than all these and yet</p> +<p>Be thought an idler by the noisy set</p> +<p>Of bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymen</p> +<p>The martyrs call the world.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page24"></a>24</span></p> + <p class="s i10">That woman then</p> +<p>Murmured with her young voice, for whose mild sake</p> +<p>There’s many a one shall find out all heartache</p> +<p>In finding that it’s young and mild and low.</p> +<p>‘There is one thing that all we women know</p> +<p>Although we never heard of it at school,</p> +<p>That we must labour to be beautiful.’</p> + +<p class="s">I said, ‘It’s certain there is no fine thing</p> +<p>Since Adam’s fall but needs much labouring.</p> +<p>There have been lovers who thought love should be</p> +<p>So much compounded of high courtesy</p> +<p>That they would sigh and quote with learned looks</p> +<p>Precedents out of beautiful old books;</p> +<p>Yet now it seems an idle trade enough.’</p> + +<p class="s">We sat grown quiet at the name of love.</p> +<p>We saw the last embers of daylight die</p> +<p>And in the trembling blue-green of the sky</p> +<p>A moon, worn as if it had been a shell</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page25"></a>25</span></p> +<p>Washed by time’s waters as they rose and fell</p> +<p>About the stars and broke in days and years.</p> + +<p class="s">I had a thought for no one’s but your ears;</p> +<p>That you were beautiful and that I strove</p> +<p>To love you in the old high way of love;</p> +<p>That it had all seemed happy, and yet we’d grown</p> +<p>As weary hearted as that hollow moon.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h3>THE SONG OF RED HANRAHAN.</h3> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>The old brown thorn trees break in two high over Cummen Strand</p> +<p>Under a bitter black wind that blows from the left hand,</p> +<p>Our courage breaks like an old tree in a black wind and dies;</p> +<p>But we have hidden in our hearts the flame out of the eyes</p> +<p>Of Cathleen the daughter of Houlihan.</p> + +<p class="s">The wind has bundled up the clouds high over Knocknarea</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page26"></a>26</span></p> +<p>And thrown the thunder on the stones for all that Maeve can say.</p> +<p>Angers that are like noisy clouds have set our hearts abeat;</p> +<p>But we have all bent low and low and kissed the quiet feet</p> +<p>Of Cathleen the daughter of Houlihan.</p> + +<p class="s">The yellow pool has overflowed high up on Clooth-na-Bare,</p> +<p>For the wet winds are blowing out of the clinging air;</p> +<p>Like heavy flooded waters our bodies and our blood;</p> +<p>But purer than a tall candle before the Holy Rood</p> +<p>Is Cathleen the daughter of Houlihan.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h3>THE OLD MEN ADMIRING THEMSELVES +IN THE WATER.</h3> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>I heard the old, old men say</p> +<p>‘Everything alters,</p> +<p>And one by one we drop away.’</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page27"></a>27</span></p> +<p>They had hands like claws, and their knees</p> +<p>Were twisted like the old thorn trees</p> +<p>By the waters.</p> +<p>I heard the old, old men say</p> +<p>‘All that’s beautiful drifts away</p> +<p>Like the waters.’</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h3>UNDER THE MOON.</h3> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>I have no happiness in dreaming of Brycelinde;</p> +<p>Nor Avalon the grass green hollow, nor Joyous Isle,</p> +<p>Where one found Lancelot crazed and hid him for a while,</p> +<p>Nor Ulad when Naoise had thrown a sail upon the wind,</p> +<p>Nor lands that seem too dim to be burdens on the heart,</p> +<p>Land-under-Wave, where out of the moon’s light and the sun’s</p> +<p>Seven old sisters wind the threads of the long lived ones,</p> +<p>Land-of-the-Tower, where Aengus has thrown the gates apart,</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page28"></a>28</span></p> +<p>And Wood-of-Wonders, where one kills an ox at dawn</p> +<p>To find it when night falls laid on a golden bier:</p> +<p>Therein are many queens like Branwen, and Guinivere;</p> +<p>And Niam, and Laban, and Fand, who could change to an otter or fawn</p> +<p>And the wood-woman whose lover was changed to a blue-eyed hawk;</p> +<p>And whether I go in my dreams by woodland, or dun, or shore,</p> +<p>Or on the unpeopled waves with kings to pull at the oar,</p> +<p>I hear the harp string praise them or hear their mournful talk.</p> +<p>Because of a story I heard under the thin horn</p> +<p>Of the third moon, that hung between the night and the day,</p> +<p>To dream of women whose beauty was folded in dismay,</p> +<p>Even in an old story, is a burden not to be borne.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page29"></a>29</span></p> +<h3>THE PLAYERS ASK FOR A BLESSING +ON THE PSALTERIES AND THEMSELVES.</h3> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Three Voices together</p> + <p class="i1">Hurry to bless the hands that play,</p> + <p class="i1">The mouths that speak, the notes and strings,</p> + <p class="i1">O masters of the glittering town!</p> + <p class="i1">O! lay the shrilly trumpet down,</p> + <p class="i1">Though drunken with the flags that sway</p> + <p class="i1">Over the ramparts and the towers,</p> + <p class="i1">And with the waving of your wings.</p> +<p>First Voice</p> + <p class="i1">Maybe they linger by the way;</p> + <p class="i1">One gathers up his purple gown;</p> + <p class="i1">One leans and mutters by the wall;</p> + <p class="i1">He dreads the weight of mortal hours.</p> +<p>Second Voice</p> + <p class="i1">O no, O no, they hurry down</p> + <p class="i1">Like plovers that have heard the call.</p> +<p>Third Voice</p> + <p class="i1">O, kinsmen of the Three in One,</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page30"></a>30</span></p> + <p class="i1">O, kinsmen bless the hands that play.</p> + <p class="i1">The notes they waken shall live on</p> + <p class="i1">When all this heavy history’s done.</p> + <p class="i1">Our hands, our hands must ebb away.</p> +<p>Three Voices together</p> + <p class="i1">The proud and careless notes live on</p> + <p class="i1">But bless our hands that ebb away.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h3>THE RIDER FROM THE NORTH.</h3> + +<p class="center">From the play of The Country of the Young.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>There’s many a strong farmer</p> +<p>Whose heart would break in two</p> +<p>If he could see the townland</p> +<p>That we are riding to;</p> +<p>Boughs have their fruit and blossom,</p> +<p>At all times of the year,</p> +<p>Rivers are running over</p> +<p>With red beer and brown beer.</p> +<p>An old man plays the bagpipes</p> +<p>In a golden and silver wood,</p> +<p>Queens, their eyes blue like the ice,</p> +<p>Are dancing in a crowd.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page31"></a>31</span></p> +<p>The little fox he murmured,</p> +<p>‘O what is the world’s bane?’</p> +<p>The sun was laughing sweetly,</p> +<p>The moon plucked at my rein;</p> +<p>But the little red fox murmured,</p> +<p>‘O do not pluck at his rein,</p> +<p>He is riding to the townland</p> +<p>That is the world’s bane.’</p> + +<p class="s">When their hearts are so high,</p> +<p>That they would come to blows,</p> +<p>They unhook their heavy swords</p> +<p>From golden and silver boughs;</p> +<p>But all that are killed in battle</p> +<p>Awaken to life again;</p> +<p>It is lucky that their story</p> +<p>Is not known among men.</p> +<p>For O the strong farmers</p> +<p>That would let the spade lie,</p> +<p>For their hearts would be like a cup</p> +<p>That somebody had drunk dry.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page32"></a>32</span></p> +<p>The little fox he murmured,</p> +<p>‘O what is the world’s bane?’</p> +<p>The sun was laughing sweetly,</p> +<p>The moon plucked at my rein;</p> +<p>But the little red fox murmured,</p> +<p>‘O do not pluck at his rein,</p> +<p>He is riding to the townland</p> +<p>That is the world’s bane.’</p> + +<p class="s">Michael will unhook his trumpet</p> +<p>From a bough overhead,</p> +<p>And blow a little noise</p> +<p>When the supper has been spread.</p> +<p>Gabriel will come from the water</p> +<p>With a fish tail, and talk</p> +<p>Of wonders that have happened</p> +<p>On wet roads where men walk,</p> +<p>And lift up an old horn</p> +<p>Of hammered silver, and drink</p> +<p>Till he has fallen asleep</p> +<p>Upon the starry brink.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page33"></a>33</span></p> +<p>The little fox he murmured,</p> +<p>‘O what is the world’s bane?’</p> +<p>The sun was laughing sweetly,</p> +<p>The moon plucked at my rein;</p> +<p>But the little red fox murmured,</p> +<p>‘O do not pluck at his rein,</p> +<p>He is riding to the townland,</p> +<p>That is the world’s bane.’</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>I made some of these poems walking about +among the Seven Woods, before the big wind of +nineteen hundred and three blew down so many +trees, & troubled the wild creatures, & changed the +look of things; and I thought out there a good +part of the play which follows. The first shape of +it came to me in a dream, but it changed much in +the making, foreshadowing, it may be, a change +that may bring a less dream-burdened will into my +verses. I never re-wrote anything so many times; +for at first I could not make these wills that stream +into mere life poetical. But now I hope to do +easily much more of the kind, and that our new +Irish players will find the buskin and the sock.</p> + + + +<div class="pd3"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page34"></a>34</span></p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h3>ON BAILE’S STRAND: A PLAY.</h3> +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5>THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY.</h5> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr f90"> + +<p class="pd05"><span class="sc">CUCHULLAIN</span>, the King of Muirthemne.</p> +<p class="pd05"><span class="sc">CONCOBAR</span>, the High King of Ullad.</p> +<p class="pd05"><span class="sc">DAIRE</span>, a King.</p> +<p class="pd05"><span class="sc">FINTAIN</span>, a blind man.</p> +<p class="pd05"><span class="sc">BARACH</span>, a fool.</p> +<p class="pd05">A Young Man.</p> +<p class="pd05">Young Kings and Old Kings.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<div class="pl"> + +<p>SCENE: A great hall by the sea close to Dundalgan. +There are two great chairs on either +side of the hall, each raised a little from the +ground, and on the back of the one chair is +carved and painted a woman with a fish’s tail, +and on the back of the other a hound. There +are smaller chairs and benches raised in tiers +round the walls. There is a great ale vat at one +side near a small door, & a large door at the +back through which one can see the sea. Barach, +a tall thin man with long ragged hair, dressed in +skins, comes in at the side door. He is leading +Fintain, a fat blind man, who is somewhat older.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page35"></a>35</span></p> +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>I will shut the door, for this wind out of the sea +gets into my bones, and if I leave but an inch +for the wind there is one like a flake of sea-frost +that might come into the house.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>What is his name, fool?</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>It’s a woman from among the Riders of the +Sidhe. It’s Boann herself from the river. She +has left the Dagda’s bed, and gone through the +salt of the sea & up here to the strand of Baile, +and all for love of me. Let her keep her husband’s +bed, for she’ll have none of me. Nobody +knows how lecherous these goddesses are. +I see her in every kind of shape but oftener +than not she’s in the wind and cries ‘give a kiss +and put your arms about me.’ But no, she’ll +have no more of me. Yesterday when I put +out my lips to kiss her, there was nothing there +but the wind. She’s bad, Fintain. O, she’s +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36"></a>36</span> +bad. I had better shut the big door too. (He +is going towards the big door but turns hearing +Fintain’s voice.)</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>(Who has been feeling about with his stick.) +What’s this and this?</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>They are chairs.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>And this?</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>Why, that’s a bench.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>And this?</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>A big chair.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>(Feeling the back of the chair.) There is a sea-woman +carved upon it.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>And there is another big chair on the other side +of the hall.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page37"></a>37</span></p> +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Lead me to it. (He mutters while the fool is +leading him.) That is what the High King +Concobar has on his shield. The High King +will be coming. They have brought out his +chair. (He begins feeling the back of the other +chair.) And there is a dog’s head on this. They +have brought out our master’s chair. Now I +know what the horse-boys were talking about. +We must not stay here. The Kings are going +to meet here. Now that Concobar and our +master, that is his chief man, have put down all +the enemies of Ullad, they are going to build +up Emain again. They are going to talk over +their plans for building it. Were you ever in +Concobar’s town before it was burnt? O, he is +a great King, for though Emain was burnt down, +every war had made him richer. He has gold +and silver dishes, and chessboards and candle-sticks +made of precious stones. Fool, have +they taken the top from the ale vat?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page38"></a>38</span></p> +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>They have.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Then bring me a horn of ale quickly, for the +Kings will be here in a minute. Now I can listen. +Tell me what you saw this morning?</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>About the young man and the fighting?</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Yes.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>And after that we can go and eat the fowl, for I +am hungry.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Time enough, time enough. You’re in as great +a hurry as when you brought me to Aine’s Seat, +where the mad dogs gather when the moon’s at +the full. Go on with your story.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>I was creeping under a ditch, with the fowl in +my leather bag, keeping to the shore where the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39"></a>39</span> +farmer could not see me, when I came upon a +ship drawn up upon the sands, a great red ship +with a woman’s head upon it.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>A ship out of Aoife’s country. They have all a +woman’s head on the bow.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>There was a young man with a pale face and red +hair standing beside it. Some of our people came +up whose turn it was to guard the shore. I heard +them ask the young man his name. He said he +was under bonds not to tell it. Then words came +between them, and they fought, & the young +man killed half of them, and the others ran away.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>It matters nothing to us, but he has come at last.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>Who has come?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page40"></a>40</span></p> +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>I know who that young man is. There is not +another like him in the world. I saw him when +I had my eyesight.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>You saw him?</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>I used to be in Aoife’s country when I had my +eyesight.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>That was before you went on shipboard and were +blinded for putting a curse on the wind?</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Queen Aoife had a son that was red haired and +pale faced like herself, and everyone said that he +would kill Cuchullain some day, but I would not +have that spoken of.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>Nobody could do that. Who was his father?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page41"></a>41</span></p> +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Nobody but Aoife knew that, not even he himself.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>Not even he himself! Was Aoife a goddess & +lecherous?</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>I overheard her telling that she never had but +one lover, and that he was the only man who +overcame her in battle. There were some who +thought him one of the Riders of the Sidhe, +because the child was great of limb and strong +beyond others. The child was begotten over +the mountains; but come nearer and I will tell +you something.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>You have thought something?</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>When I hear the young girls talking about the +colour of Cuchullain’s eyes, & how they have +seven colours, I have thought about it. That +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page42"></a>42</span> +young man has Aoife’s face and hair, but he has +Cuchullain’s eyes.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>How can he have Cuchullain’s eyes?</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>He is Cuchullain’s son.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>And his mother has sent him hither to fight his +father.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>It is all quite plain. Cuchullain went into Aoife’s +country when he was a young man that he might +learn skill in arms, and there he became Aoife’s +lover.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>And now she hates him because he went away, +and has sent the son to kill the father. I knew +she was a goddess.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>And she never told him who his father was, that +he might do it. I have thought it all out, fool. I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page43"></a>43</span> +know a great many things because I listen when +nobody is noticing and I keep my wits awake. +What ails you now?</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>I have remembered that I am hungry.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Well, forget it again, and I will tell you about +Aoife’s country. It is full of wonders. There +are a great many Queens there who can change +themselves into wolves and into swine and into +white hares, and when they are in their own +shapes they are stronger than almost any man; +and there are young men there who have cat’s +eyes and if a bird chirrup or a mouse squeak +they cannot keep them shut even though it is +bedtime and they sleepy; and listen, for this is +a great wonder, a very great wonder, there is a +long narrow bridge, and when anybody goes to +cross it, that the Queens do not like, it flies up +as this bench would if you were to sit on the end +of it. Everybody who goes there to learn skill +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page44"></a>44</span> +in arms has to cross it. It was in that country +too that Cuchullain got his spear made out of +dragon bones. There were two dragons fighting +in the foam of the sea, & their grandam was the +moon, and six Queens came along the shore.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>I won’t listen to your story.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>It is a very wonderful story. Wait till you hear +what the six Queens did. Their right hands were +all made of silver.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>No, I will have my dinner first. You have eaten +the fowl I left in front of the fire. The last time +you sent me to steal something you made me forget +all about it till you had eaten it up.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>No, there is plenty for us both.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>Come with me where it is.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page45"></a>45</span></p> +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>(Who is being led towards the door at the back +by Barach.) O, it is all right, it is in a safe place.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>It is a fine fowl. It was the biggest in the yard.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>It had a good smell, but I hope that the wild +dogs have not smelt it. (Voices are heard outside +the door at the side.) Here is our master. +Let us stay and talk with him. Perhaps Cuchullain +will give you a new cap with a feather. He +told me that he would give you a new cap with a +feather, a feather with an eye that looks at you, +a peacock’s feather.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>No, no. (He begins pulling Fintain towards the +door.)</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>If you do not get it now, you may never get it, +for the young man may kill him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page46"></a>46</span></p> +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>No, no, I am hungry. What a head you have, +blind man. Who but you would have remembered +that the hen-wife slept for a little at noon +every day.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>(Who is being led along very slowly and unwillingly.)</p> + +<p>Yes, I have a good head. The fowl +should be done just right, but one never knows +when a wild dog may come out of the woods.</p> + +<p>(They go out through the big door at the back. +As they go out Cuchullain & certain young +Kings come in at the side door. Cuchullain +though still young is a good deal older than +the others. They are all very gaily dressed, +and have their hair fastened with balls of gold. +The young men crowd about Cuchullain with +wondering attention.)</p> + +<p class="person">FIRST YOUNG KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>You have hurled that stone beyond our utmost mark</p> +<p>Time after time, but yet you are not weary.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page47"></a>47</span></p> +<p class="person">SECOND YOUNG KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>He has slept on the bare ground of Fuad’s Hill</p> +<p>This week past, waiting for the bulls and the deer.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>Well, why should I be weary?</p> + +<p class="person">FIRST YOUNG KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i12">It is certain</p> +<p>His father was the god who wheels the sun,</p> +<p>And not king Sualtam.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">THIRD YOUNG KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>(To a young King who is beside him.) He came in the dawn,</p> +<p>And folded Dectara in a sudden fire.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">FOURTH YOUNG KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>And yet the mother’s half might well grow weary,</p> +<p>And it new come from labours over sea.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">THIRD YOUNG KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>He has been on islands walled about with silver,</p> +<p>And fought with giants.</p> +</div> + +<p>(They gather about the ale vat and begin to drink.)</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page48"></a>48</span></p> +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i14">Who was it that went out?</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">THIRD YOUNG KING.</p> + +<p>As we came in?</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i5">Yes.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">THIRD YOUNG KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i10">Barach and blind Fintain.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>They always flock together; the blind man</p> +<p>Has need of the fool’s eyesight and strong body,</p> +<p>While the poor fool has need of the other’s wit,</p> +<p>And night and day is up to his ears in mischief</p> +<p>That the blind man imagines. There’s no hen-yard</p> +<p>But clucks and cackles when he passes by</p> +<p>As if he’d been a fox. If I’d that ball</p> +<p>That’s in your hair and the big stone again,</p> +<p>I’d keep them tossing, though the one is heavy</p> +<p>And the other light in the hand. A trick I learnt</p> +<p>When I was learning arms in Aoife’s country.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page49"></a>49</span></p> +<p class="person">FIRST YOUNG KING.</p> + +<p>What kind of woman was that Aoife?</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i16">Comely.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">FIRST YOUNG KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>But I have heard that she was never married,</p> +<p>And yet that’s natural, for I have never known</p> +<p>A fighting woman, but made her favours cheap,</p> +<p>Or mocked at love till she grew sandy dry.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>What manner of woman do you like the best?</p> +<p>A gentle or a fierce.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">FIRST YOUNG KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i12">A gentle surely.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>I think that a fierce woman’s better, a woman</p> +<p>That breaks away when you have thought her won,</p> +<p>For I’d be fed and hungry at one time.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page50"></a>50</span></p> +<p>I think that all deep passion is but a kiss</p> +<p>In the mid battle, and a difficult peace</p> +<p>’Twixt oil and water, candles and dark night,</p> +<p>Hill-side and hollow, the hot-footed sun,</p> +<p>And the cold sliding slippery-footed moon,</p> +<p>A brief forgiveness between opposites</p> +<p>That have been hatreds for three times the age</p> +<p>Of his long ’stablished ground. Here’s Concobar;</p> +<p>So I’ll be done, but keep beside me still,</p> +<p>For while he talks of hammered bronze and asks</p> +<p>What wood is best for building, we can talk</p> +<p>Of a fierce woman.</p> +</div> + +<p>(Concobar, a man much older than Cuchullain, +has come in through the great door at the back. +He has many Kings about him. One of these +Kings, Daire, a stout old man, is somewhat +drunk.)</p> + +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<p>(To one of those about him.) Has the ship gone +yet? We have need of more bronze workers +and that ship I sent to Africa for gold is late.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page51"></a>51</span></p> +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>I knew their talk.</p> + +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<p>(Seeing Cuchullain.) You are before us, King.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>So much the better, for I welcome you</p> +<p>Into my Muirthemne.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i10">But who are these?</p> +<p>The odour from their garments when they stir</p> +<p>Is like a wind out of an apple garden.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>My swordsmen and harp players and fine dancers,</p> +<p>My bosom friends.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i4">I should have thought, Cuchullain,</p> +<p>My graver company would better match</p> +<p>Your greatness and your years; but I waste breath</p> +<p>In harping on that tale.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page52"></a>52</span></p> +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i10">You do, great King.</p> +<p>Because their youth is the kind wandering wave</p> +<p>That carries me about the world; and if it sank,</p> +<p>My sword would lose its lightness.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i12">Yet, Cuchullain,</p> +<p>Emain should be the foremost town of the world.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>It is the foremost town.</p> + +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i10">No, no, it’s not.</p> +<p>Nothing but men can make towns great, and he,</p> +<p>The one over-topping man that’s in the world,</p> +<p>Keeps far away.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">DAIRE.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i6">He will not hear you, King,</p> +<p>And we old men had best keep company</p> +<p>With one another. I’ll fill the horn for you.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page53"></a>53</span></p> +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>I will not drink, old fool. You have drunk a horn</p> +<p>At every door we came to.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">DAIRE.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i12">You’d better drink,</p> +<p>For old men light upon their youth again</p> +<p>In the brown ale. When I have drunk enough,</p> +<p>I am like Cuchullain as one pea another,</p> +<p>And live like a bird’s flight from tree to tree.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>We’ll to our chairs for we have much to talk of,</p> +<p>And we have Ullad and Muirthemne, and here</p> +<p>Is Conall Muirthemne in the nick of time.</p> +</div> + +<p>(He goes to the back of stage to welcome a company +of Kings who come in through the great +door. The other Kings gradually get into their +places. Cuchullain sits in his great chair with +certain of the young men standing around him. +Others of the young men, however, remain with +Daire at the ale vat. Daire holds out the horn +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page54"></a>54</span> +of ale to one or two of the older Kings as they +pass him going to their places. They pass him +by, most of them silently refusing.)</p> + +<p class="person">DAIRE.</p> + +<p>Will you not drink?</p> + +<p class="person">AN OLD KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i5">Not till the council’s over.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">A YOUNG KING.</p> + +<p>But I’ll drink, Daire.</p> + +<p class="person">ANOTHER YOUNG KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i8">Fill me a horn too, Daire.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">ANOTHER YOUNG KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>If I’d drunk half that you have drunk to-day,</p> +<p>I’d be upon all fours.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">DAIRE.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i7">That would be natural</p> +<p>When Mother Earth had given you this good milk</p> +<p>From her great breasts.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page55"></a>55</span></p> +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>(To one of the young Kings beside him)</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i7">One is content awhile</p> +<p>With a soft warm woman who folds up our lives</p> +<p>In silky network. Then, one knows not why,</p> +<p>But one’s away after a flinty heart.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">THE YOUNG KING.</p> + +<p>How long can the net keep us?</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i14">All our lives</p> +<p>If there are children, and a dozen moons</p> +<p>If there are none, because a growing child</p> +<p>Has so much need of watching it can make</p> +<p>A passion that’s as changeable as the sea</p> +<p>Change till it holds the wide earth to its heart.</p> +<p>At least I have heard a father say it, but I</p> +<p>Being childless do not know it. Come nearer yet;</p> +<p>Though he is ringing that old silver rod</p> +<p>We’ll have our own talk out. They cannot hear us.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page56"></a>56</span></p> +</div> + +<p>(Concobar who is now seated in his great chair, +opposite Cuchullain, beats upon the pillar of the +house that is nearest to him with a rod of silver, +till the Kings have become silent. Cuchullain +alone continues to talk in a low voice to those +about him, but not so loud as to disturb the +silence. Concobar rises and speaks standing.)</p> + +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>I have called you hither, Kings of Ullad, and Kings</p> +<p>Of Muirthemne and Connall Muirthemne,</p> +<p>And tributary Kings, for now there is peace—</p> +<p>It’s time to build up Emain that was burned</p> +<p>At the outsetting of these wars; for we,</p> +<p>Being the foremost men, should have high chairs</p> +<p>And be much stared at and wondered at, and speak</p> +<p>Out of more laughing overflowing hearts</p> +<p>Than common men. It is the art of kings</p> +<p>To make what’s noble nobler in men’s eyes</p> +<p>By wide uplifted roofs, where beaten gold,</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page57"></a>57</span></p> +<p>That’s ruddy with desire, marries pale silver</p> +<p>Among the shadowing beams; and many a time</p> +<p>I would have called you hither to this work,</p> +<p>But always, when I’d all but summoned you,</p> +<p>Some war or some rebellion would break out.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">DAIRE.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>Where’s Maine Morgor and old Usnach’s children,</p> +<p>And that high-headed even-walking Queen,</p> +<p>And many near as great that got their death</p> +<p>Because you hated peace. I can remember</p> +<p>The people crying out when Deirdre passed</p> +<p>And Maine Morgor had a cold grey eye.</p> +<p>Well, well, I’ll throw this heel-tap on the ground,</p> +<p>For it may be they are thirsty.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">A KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i14">Be silent, fool.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">ANOTHER KING.</p> + +<p>Be silent, Daire.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page58"></a>58</span></p> +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i10">Let him speak his mind.</p> +<p>I have no need to be afraid of ghosts,</p> +<p>For I have made but necessary wars.</p> +<p>I warred to strengthen Emain, or because</p> +<p>When wars are out they marry and beget</p> +<p>And have their generations like mankind</p> +<p>And there’s no help for it; but I’m well content</p> +<p>That they have ended and left the town so great,</p> +<p>That its mere name shall be in times to come</p> +<p>Like a great ale vat where the men of the world</p> +<p>Shall drink no common ale but the hard will,</p> +<p>The unquenchable hope, the friendliness of the sword.</p> +</div> + +<p>(He takes thin boards on which plans have been +carved by those about him.)</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>Give me the building plans, and have you written</p> +<p>That we—Cuchullain is looking in his shield;</p> +<p>It may be the pale riders of the wind</p> +<p>Throw pictures on it, or that Mananan,</p> +<p>His father’s friend and sometime fosterer,</p> +<p>Foreknower of all things, has cast a vision,</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page59"></a>59</span></p> +<p>Out of the cold dark of the rich sea,</p> +<p>Foretelling Emain’s greatness.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i12">No, great King,</p> +<p>I looked on this out of mere idleness,</p> +<p>Imagining a woman that I loved.</p> +</div> + +<p>(The sound of a trumpet without.)</p> + +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<p>Open the door, for that is a herald’s trumpet.</p> + +<p>(The great door at the back is flung open; a +young man who is fully armed and carries a shield +with a woman’s head painted on it, stands upon +the threshold. Behind him are trumpeters. +He walks into the centre of the hall, the trumpeting +ceases.)</p> + +<p>What is your message?</p> + +<p class="person">YOUNG MAN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i10">I am of Aoife’s army.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">FIRST KING.</p> + +<p>Queen Aoife and her army have fallen upon us.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page60"></a>60</span></p> +<p class="person">SECOND KING.</p> + +<p>Out swords! Out swords!</p> + +<p class="person">THIRD KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i7">They are about the house.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">FOURTH KING.</p> + +<p>Rush out! Rush out! Before they have fired the thatch.</p> + +<p class="person">YOUNG MAN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>Aoife is far away. I am alone.</p> +<p>I have come alone in the midst of you</p> +<p>To weigh this sword against Cuchullain’s sword.</p> +</div> + +<p>(There is a murmur amongst the Kings.)</p> + +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>And are you noble? for if of common seed</p> +<p>You cannot weigh your sword against his sword</p> +<p>But in mixed battle.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">YOUNG MAN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i8">I am under bonds</p> +<p>To tell my name to no man, but it’s noble.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page61"></a>61</span></p> +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>But I would know your name and not your bonds.</p> +<p>You cannot speak in the Assembly House</p> +<p>If you are not noble.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">A KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i8">Answer the High King.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">YOUNG MAN.</p> + +<p>(Drawing his sword.)</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>I will give no other proof than the hawk gives</p> +<p>That it’s no sparrow.</p> +</div> + +<p>(He is silent a moment then speaks to all.)</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i8">Yet look upon me, Kings;</p> +<p>I too am of that ancient seed and carry</p> +<p>The signs about this body and in these bones.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>To have shown the hawk’s grey feather is enough</p> +<p>And you speak highly too.</p> +</div> + +<p>(Cuchullain comes down from his great chair. +He remains standing on the steps of the chair. +The young Kings gather about him and begin +to arm him.)</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page62"></a>62</span></p> +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i10">Give me that helmet!</p> +<p>I’d thought they had grown weary sending champions.</p> +<p>That coat will do. I’d half forgotten, boy,</p> +<p>How all those great kings came into the mouse-trap</p> +<p>That had been baited with Maeve’s pretty daughter.</p> +<p>How Findabair, that blue-eyed Findabair—</p> +<p>But the tale is worthy of a winter’s night.</p> +<p>That buckle should be tighter. Give me your shield.</p> +<p>There is good level ground at Baile’s Yew-tree</p> +<p>Some dozen yards from here, and it’s but truth</p> +<p>That I am sad to-day and this fight welcome.</p> +</div> + +<p>(He looks hard at the Young Man, and then steps +down on to the floor of the Assembly House. +He grasps the Young Man by the shoulder.)</p> + +<p>Hither into the light.</p> + +<p>(Turning to one of the young Kings)</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i10">That’s the very tint</p> +<p>Of her that I was speaking of but now:</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page63"></a>63</span></p> +<p>Not a pin’s difference.</p> +</div> + +<p>(To the Young Man)</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i8">You are from the North</p> +<p>Where there are many that have that tint of hair</p> +<p>Red brown, the light red brown. Come nearer, boy!</p> +<p>For I would have another look at you.</p> +<p>There’s more likeness, a pale, a stone pale cheek.</p> +<p>What brought you, boy? Have you no fear of death?</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">YOUNG MAN.</p> + +<p>Whether I live or die is in the Gods’ hands.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>That is all words, all words, a young man’s talk;</p> +<p>I am their plough, their harrow, their very strength,</p> +<p>For he that’s in the sun begot this body</p> +<p>Upon a mortal woman, and I have heard tell</p> +<p>It seemed as if he had outrun the moon,</p> +<p>That he must always follow through waste heaven,</p> +<p>He loved so happily. He’ll be but slow</p> +<p>To break a tree that was so sweetly planted.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page64"></a>64</span></p> +<p>Let’s see that arm; I’ll see it if I like.</p> +<p>That arm had a good father and a good mother</p> +<p>But it is not like this.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">YOUNG MAN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i8">You are mocking me.</p> +<p>You think I am not worthy to be fought,</p> +<p>But I’ll not wrangle but with this talkative knife.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>Put up your sword, I am not mocking you.</p> +<p>I’d have you for my friend, but if it’s not</p> +<p>Because you have a hot heart and a cold eye</p> +<p>I cannot tell the reason. You’ve got her fierceness,</p> +<p>And nobody is as fierce as those pale women.</p> +</div> + +<p>(To the young Kings)</p> + +<p>We’ll keep him here in Muirthemne awhile.</p> + +<p class="person">A YOUNG KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>You are the leader of our pack and therefore</p> +<p>May cry what you will.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page65"></a>65</span></p> +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i12">You’ll stop with us</p> +<p>And we will hunt the deer and the wild bulls</p> +<p>And, when we have grown weary, light our fires</p> +<p>In sandy places where the wool-white foam</p> +<p>Is murmuring and breaking, and it may be</p> +<p>That long-haired women will come out of the dunes</p> +<p>To dance in the yellow fire-light. You hang your head,</p> +<p>Young man, as if it was not a good life;</p> +<p>And yet what’s better than to hurl the spear,</p> +<p>And hear the long-remembering harp, and dance;</p> +<p>Friendship grows quicker in the murmuring dark;</p> +<p>But I can see there’s no more need for words</p> +<p>And that you’ll be my friend now.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">FIRST OLD KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i14">Concobar,</p> +<p>Forbid their friendship, for it will get twisted</p> +<p>To a reproach against us.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page66"></a>66</span></p> +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i12">Until now</p> +<p>I’d never need to cry Cuchullain on</p> +<p>And would not now.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">FIRST OLD KING.</p> + +<p>They’ll say his manhood’s quenched.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>I’ll give you gifts, but I’ll have something too,</p> +<p>An arm-ring or the like, and if you will</p> +<p>We’ll fight it out when you are older, boy.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">AN OLD KING.</p> + +<p>Aoife will make some story out of this.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>Well, well, what matter, I’ll have that arm-ring, boy.</p> + +<p class="person">YOUNG MAN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>There is no man I’d sooner have my friend</p> +<p>Than you whose name has gone about the world</p> +<p>As if it had been the wind, but Aoife’d say</p> +<p>I had turned coward.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page67"></a>67</span></p> +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i12">I’ll give you gifts</p> +<p>That Aoife’ll know and all her people know</p> +<p>To have been my gifts. Mananan son of the sea</p> +<p>Gave me this heavy purple cloak. Nine Queens</p> +<p>Of the Land-under-Wave had woven it</p> +<p>Out of the fleeces of the sea. O! tell her</p> +<p>I was afraid, or tell her what you will.</p> +<p>No! tell her that I heard a raven croak</p> +<p>On the north side of the house and was afraid.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">AN OLD KING.</p> + +<p>Some witch of the air has troubled Cuchullain’s mind.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>No witchcraft, his head is like a woman’s head</p> +<p>I had a fancy for.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">SECOND OLD KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i7">A witch of the air</p> +<p>Can make a leaf confound us with memories.</p> +<p>They have gone to school to learn the trick of it.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page68"></a>68</span></p> +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>But there’s no trick in this. That arm-ring, boy.</p> + +<p class="person">THIRD OLD KING.</p> + +<p>He shall not go unfought, I’ll fight with him.</p> + +<p class="person">FOURTH OLD KING.</p> + +<p>No! I will fight with him.</p> + +<p class="person">FIRST OLD KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i10">I claim the fight,</p> +<p>For when we sent an army to her land—</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">SECOND OLD KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>I claim the fight, for one of Aoife’s galleys</p> +<p>Stole my great cauldron and a herd of pigs.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">THIRD OLD KING.</p> + +<p>No, no, I claim it, for at Lammas’ time—</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>Back! Back! Put up your swords! Put up your swords!</p> +<p>There’s none alive that shall accept a challenge</p> +<p>I have refused. Laegaire, put up your sword.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page69"></a>69</span></p> +<p class="person">YOUNG MAN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>No, let them come, let any three together.</p> +<p>If they’ve a mind to, I’ll try it out with four.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>That’s spoken as I’d spoken it at your age,</p> +<p>But you are in my house. Whatever man</p> +<p>Would fight with you shall fight it out with me.</p> +<p>They’re dumb. They’re dumb. How many of you would meet (drawing his sword)</p> +<p>This mutterer, this old whistler, this sand-piper,</p> +<p>This edge that’s greyer than the tide, this mouse</p> +<p>That’s gnawing at the timbers of the world,</p> +<p>This, this—Boy, I would meet them all in arms</p> +<p>If I’d a son like you. He would avenge me</p> +<p>When I have withstood for the last time the men</p> +<p>Whose fathers, brothers, sons, and friends I have killed</p> +<p>Upholding Ullad; when the four provinces</p> +<p>Have gathered with the ravens over them.</p> +<p>But I’d need no avenger. You and I</p> +<p>Would scatter them like water from a dish.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page70"></a>70</span></p> +<p class="person">YOUNG MAN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>We’ll stand by one another from this out.</p> +<p>Here is the ring.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i8">No, turn and turn about</p> +<p>But my turn is first, because I am the older.</p> +<p>Cliodna embroidered these bird wings, but Fand</p> +<p>Made all these little golden eyes with the hairs</p> +<p>That she had stolen out of Aengus’ beard,</p> +<p>And therefore none that has this cloak about him</p> +<p>Is crossed in love. The heavy inlaid brooch</p> +<p>That Buan hammered has a merit too.</p> +</div> + +<p>(He begins spreading the cloak out on a bench, +showing it to the Young Man. Suddenly Concobar +beats with his silver rod on a pillar beside +his chair. All turn towards him.)</p> + +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>(In a loud voice.) No more of that, I will not have this friendship.</p> +<p>Cuchullain is my man and I forbid it;</p> +<p>He shall not go unfought for I myself—</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page71"></a>71</span></p> +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>(Seizing Concobar.) You shall not stir, High King, I’ll hold you there.</p> + +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<p>Witchcraft has maddened you.</p> + +<p class="person">THE KINGS.</p> + +<p>(Shouting.) Yes, witchcraft, witchcraft.</p> + +<p class="person">A KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>You saw another’s head upon his shoulders</p> +<p>All of a sudden, a woman’s head, Cuchullain,</p> +<p>Then raised your hand against the King of Ullad.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>(Letting Concobar go, and looking wildly about him.)</p> + +<p>Yes, yes, all of a sudden, all of a sudden.</p> + +<p class="person">DAIRE.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>Why, there’s no witchcraft in it, I myself</p> +<p>Have made a hundred of these sudden friendships</p> +<p>And fought it out next day. But that was folly,</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page72"></a>72</span></p> +<p>For now that I am old I know it is best</p> +<p>To live in comfort.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">A KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i8">Pull the fool away.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">DAIRE.</p> + +<p>I’ll throw a heel-tap to the one that dies.</p> + +<p class="person">CONCOBAR.</p> + +<p>Some witch is floating in the air above us.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>Yes, witchcraft, witchcraft and the power of witchcraft.</p> + +<p>(To the Young Man)</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>Why did you do it? was it Calatin’s daughters?</p> +<p>Out, out, I say, for now it’s sword on sword.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">YOUNG MAN.</p> + +<p>But, but, I did not.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i6">Out, I say, out, out!</p> +<p>Sword upon sword.</p> +</div> + +<p>(He goes towards the door +at back, followed by Young Man. He turns on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page73"></a>73</span> +the threshold and cries out, looking at the Young +Man.)</p> + +<p>That hair my hands were drowned in!</p> + +<p>(He goes out, followed by Young Man. The +other Kings begin to follow them out.)</p> + +<p class="person">A KING.</p> + +<p>I saw him fight with Ferdiad.</p> + +<p class="person">SECOND KING.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i12">We’ll be too late</p> +<p>They’re such a long time getting through the door.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">THIRD KING.</p> + +<p>Run quicker, quicker.</p> + +<p class="person">DAIRE.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> + <p class="i8">I was at the Smith’s</p> +<p>When he that was the boy Setanta then—</p> +</div> + +<p>(Sound of fighting outside.)</p> + +<p class="person">THIRD KING.</p> + +<p>He will have killed him. They have begun the fight!</p> + +<p>(They all go out, leaving the house silent and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page74"></a>74</span> +empty. There is a pause during which one hears +the clashing of the swords. Barach and Fintain +come in from side door. Barach is dragging +Fintain.)</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>You have eaten it, you have eaten it, you have +left me nothing but the bones.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>O, that I should have to endure such a plague.</p> +<p>O, I ache all over. O, I am pulled in pieces.</p> +<p>This is the way you pay me all the good I have done you!</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>You have eaten it, you have told me lies about a +wild dog. Nobody has seen a wild dog about +the place this twelve month. Lie there till the +Kings come. O, I will tell Concobar and Cuchullain +and all the Kings about you!</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>What would have happened to you but for me, +and you without your wits. If I did not take +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page75"></a>75</span> +care of you what would you do for food and +warmth!</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>You take care of me? You stay safe and send +me into every kind of danger. You sent me +down the cliff for gull’s eggs while you warmed +your blind eyes in the sun. And then you ate +all that were good for food. You left me the +eggs that were neither egg nor bird. (The blind +man tries to rise. Barach makes him lie down +again.)</p> + +<p>Keep quiet now till I shut the door. There is +some noise outside. There are swords crossing; +a high vexing noise so that I can’t be listening to +myself. (He goes to the big door at the back +and shuts it.) Why can’t they be quiet, why +can’t they be quiet. Ah, you would get away, +would you? (He follows the blind man who has +been crawling along the wall and makes him lie +down close to the King’s chair.) Lie there, lie +there. No, you won’t get away. Lie there till +the Kings come, I’ll tell them all about you. I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page76"></a>76</span> +shall tell it all. How you sit warming yourself, +when you have made me light a fire of sticks, +while I sit blowing it with my mouth. Do you +not always make me take the windy side of the +bush when it blows and the rainy side when it +rains?</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>O good fool, listen to me. Think of the care I +have taken of you. I have brought you to many +a warm hearth, where there was a good welcome +for you, but you would not stay there, you were +always wandering about.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>The last time you brought me in, it was not I +who wandered away, but you that got put out +because you took the crubeen out of the pot, +when you thought nobody was looking. Keep +quiet now, keep quiet till I shut the door. Here +is Cuchullain, now you will be beaten. I am +going to tell him everything.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page77"></a>77</span></p> +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>(Comes in and says to the fool) Give me that horn.</p> + +<p>(The fool gives him a horn which Cuchullain fills +with ale and drinks.)</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Do not listen to him, listen to me.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>What are you wrangling over?</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>He is fat and good for nothing. He has left me +the bones and the feathers.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>What feathers?</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>I left him turning a fowl at the fire. He ate it all. +He left me nothing but the bones and feathers.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Do not believe him. You do not know how +vain this fool is. I gave him the feathers, because +I thought he would like nothing so well.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page78"></a>78</span></p> +<p>(Barach is sitting on a bench playing with a heap +of feathers which he has taken out of the breast +of his coat.)</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>(Singing) When you were an acorn on the tree +top—</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Where would he be but for me? I must be +always thinking, thinking to get food for the two +of us, and when we’ve got it, if the moon’s at the +full or the tide on the turn, he’ll leave the rabbit +in its snare till it is full of maggots, or let the +trout slip through his hands back into the water.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>(Singing) When you were an acorn on the tree top,</p> +<p>Then was I an eagle cock;</p> +<p>Now that you are a withered old block,</p> +<p>Still am I an eagle cock!</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Listen to him now! That’s the sort of talk I +have to put up with day out day in. (The fool is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page79"></a>79</span> +putting the feathers into his hair. Cuchullain +takes a handful of feathers out of the heap and +out of the fool’s hair and begins to wipe the +blood from his sword with them.)</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>He has taken my feathers to wipe his sword. It +is blood that he is wiping from his sword!</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Whose blood? Whose blood?</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>That young champion’s.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>He that came out of Aoife’s country?</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>The Kings are standing round his body.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Did he fight long?</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>He thought to have saved himself with witchcraft.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page80"></a>80</span></p> +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>That blind man there said he would kill you. +He came from Aoife’s country to kill you. That +blind man said they had taught him every kind +of weapon that he might do it. But I always +knew that you would kill him.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>(To the blind man.) You knew him, then?</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>I saw him when I had my eyes, in Aoife’s +country.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>You were in Aoife’s country?</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>I knew him and his mother there.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>He was about to speak of her when he died.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>He was a Queen’s son.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page81"></a>81</span></p> +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>What Queen, what Queen? (He seizes the blind man.)</p> +<p>Was it Scathach? There were many Queens.</p> +<p>All the rulers there were Queens.</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>No, not Scathach.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>It was Uathach then. Speak, speak!</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>I cannot speak, you are clutching me too tightly. +(Cuchullain lets him go.) I cannot remember +who it was. I am not certain. It was some +Queen.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>He said a while ago that the young man was +Aoife’s son.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>She? No, no, she had no son when I was +there.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page82"></a>82</span></p> +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>That blind man there said that she owned him +for her son.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>I had rather he had been some other woman’s +son. What father had he? A soldier out of +Alba? She was an amorous woman, a proud +pale amorous woman.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>None knew whose son he was.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>None knew? Did you know, old listener at +doors?</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>No, no, I knew nothing.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>He said a while ago that he heard Aoife boast +that she’d never but the one lover, and he the +only man that had overcome her in battle. (A +pause.)</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page83"></a>83</span></p> +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Somebody is trembling. Why are you trembling, +fool? the bench is shaking, why are you trembling? +Is Cuchullain going to hurt us? It was +not I who told you, Cuchullain.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>It is Cuchullain who is trembling. He is shaking +the bench with his knees.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>He was my son, and I have killed my son.</p> + +<p>(A pause.)</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>’Twas they that did it, the pale windy people,</p> +<p>Where, where, where? My sword against the thunder.</p> +<p>But no, for they have always been my friends;</p> +<p>And though they love to blow a smoking coal</p> +<p>Till it’s all flame, the wars they blow aflame</p> +<p>Are full of glory, and heart uplifting pride,</p> +<p>And not like this; the wars they love awaken</p> +<p>Old fingers and the sleepy strings of harps.</p> +<p>Who did it then? Are you afraid; speak out,</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page84"></a>84</span></p> +<p>For I have put you under my protection</p> +<p>And will reward you well. Dubthach the Chafer.</p> +<p>He had an old grudge. No, for he is with Maeve.</p> +<p>Laegaire did it. Why do you not speak?</p> +<p>What is this house?</p> +</div> + +<p>(A pause.)</p> + +<p>Now I remember all.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>He will kill us. O, I am afraid!</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>(Who is before Concobar’s chair.)</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>’Twas you who did it, you who sat up there</p> +<p>With that old branch of silver, like a magpie</p> +<p>Nursing a stolen spoon. Magpie, Magpie,</p> +<p>A maggot that is eating up the earth!</p> +</div> + +<p>(Begins hacking at the chair with his sword.)</p> + +<div class="poemr"> +<p>No, but a magpie for he’s flown away.</p> +<p>Where did he fly to?</p> +</div> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + + <p class="i8">He is outside the door.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page85"></a>85</span></p> +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>Outside the door?</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + + <p class="i6">He is under Baile’s yew-tree.</p> + +<p class="person">CUCHULLAIN.</p> + +<p>Concobar, Concobar, the sword into your heart.</p> + +<p>(He goes out. A pause. The fool goes to the +great door at back and looks out after him.)</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>He is going up to King Concobar; they are all +under the tree. No, no, he is standing still. +There is a great wave going to break and he is +looking at it. Ah! now he is running down to +the sea, but he is holding up his sword as if he +were going into a fight. (A pause.) Well struck, +well struck!</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>What is he doing now?</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>O! he is fighting the waves.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page86"></a>86</span></p> +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>He sees King Concobar’s crown on every one of +them.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>There, he has struck at a big one. He has +struck the crown off it, he has made the foam fly. +There again another big one. (Shouting without.)</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Where are the Kings? What are the Kings +doing?</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>They are shouting and running down to the +shore, and the people are running out of the +houses, they are all running.</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>You say they are running out of the houses, +there will be nobody left in the houses. Listen, +fool.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>There, he is down! He is up again! He is +going out into the deep water.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page87"></a>87</span></p> +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>Come here, fool; come here, I say.</p> + +<p class="person">BARACH.</p> + +<p>(Coming towards him but looking backward +towards the door.) What is it?</p> + +<p class="person">FINTAIN.</p> + +<p>There will be nobody in the houses. Come this +way, come quickly; the ovens will be full; we +will put our hands into the ovens. (They go +out.)</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page88"></a>88</span></p> +<div class="pd3"> </div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page89"></a>89</span></p> +<h2>ESSAYS, ETC.</h2> + +<h3 style="text-align: left"><i>By</i> <span class="sc">William Butler Yeats</span></h3> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“Leader of one of the most notable contemporary movements—the +Celtic revival in Ireland, decidedly a force to be reckoned with both +at the present moment and in the future.”—<i>Boston Transcript.</i></p> +</div> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h3 style="text-align: left">THE CELTIC TWILIGHT</h3> + +<div class="quote"> +<p style="text-align: right"><b>With portrait and some new chapters. $1.50, <i>net</i>.</b></p> + +<p>“Subtle, elusive, keen with insight, and beautiful with the haunting +beauty of the aptly chosen word ... a veritable contribution to +literature.”—<i>The New York Herald.</i></p> +</div> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h3 style="text-align: left">IDEAS OF GOOD AND EVIL</h3> + +<div class="quote"> +<p style="text-align: right"><b>Cloth. 12mo. $1.50, <i>net</i>.</b></p> + +<p>“The best book of its kind that has appeared since Maeterlinck’s +‘Buried Temple,’ full of deep thought, of excellent criticism, and +of beautiful writing.”—London letter to the <i>Chicago Evening Post</i>.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h3 style="text-align: left">WHERE THERE IS NOTHING</h3> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>Vol. I. of “Plays for an Irish Theatre.” <b>Cloth. $1.25, <i>net</i>.</b> +Large paper limited edition (100 numbered copies) on Japanese +vellum, <b>$5.00, <i>net</i>.</b></p> +</div> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4 style="text-align: left">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY, <span class="sc">Publishers</span></h4> + +<p class="center noind f80"><b>66 Fifth Avenue, New York</b></p> +<hr class="art" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's In The Seven Woods, by William Butler (W.B.) 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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: In The Seven Woods + Being Poems Chiefly of the Irish Heroic Age + +Author: William Butler (W.B.) Yeats + +Release Date: December 11, 2009 [EBook #30652] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE SEVEN WOODS *** + + + + +Produced by Marius Masi, Meredith Bach and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + IN THE SEVEN WOODS + + + + +BY THE SAME WRITER + + + THE SECRET ROSE + THE CELTIC TWILIGHT + POEMS + THE WIND AMONG THE REEDS + THE SHADOWY WATERS + IDEAS OF GOOD AND EVIL + + + + + IN THE SEVEN WOODS + + Being Poems Chiefly of the + Irish Heroic Age + + BY + + W. B. YEATS + + +New York + +THE MACMILLAN COMPANY +LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD. + +1903 + +_All rights reserved_ + + +COPYRIGHT, 1903, +BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. + +Set up, electrotyped, and published August, 1903. + + +Norwood Press +J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co. +Norwood, Mass. U.S.A. + + + + + IN THE SEVEN WOODS + + + + + IN THE SEVEN WOODS: BEING + POEMS CHIEFLY OF THE + IRISH HEROIC AGE. + + + + +IN THE SEVEN WOODS. + + + I have heard the pigeons of the Seven Woods + Make their faint thunder, and the garden bees + Hum in the lime tree flowers; and put away + The unavailing outcries and the old bitterness + That empty the heart. I have forgot awhile + Tara uprooted, and new commonness + Upon the throne and crying about the streets + And hanging its paper flowers from post to post, + Because it is alone of all things happy. + I am contented for I know that Quiet + Wanders laughing and eating her wild heart + Among pigeons and bees, while that Great Archer, + Who but awaits His hour to shoot, still hangs + A cloudy quiver over Parc-na-Lee. + + August, 1902. + + + + +THE OLD AGE OF QUEEN MAEVE. + + + Maeve the great queen was pacing to and fro, + Between the walls covered with beaten bronze, + In her high house at Cruachan; the long hearth, + Flickering with ash and hazel, but half showed + Where the tired horse-boys lay upon the rushes, + Or on the benches underneath the walls, + In comfortable sleep; all living slept + But that great queen, who more than half the night + Had paced from door to fire and fire to door. + Though now in her old age, in her young age + She had been beautiful in that old way + That's all but gone; for the proud heart is gone + And the fool heart of the counting-house fears all + But soft beauty and indolent desire. + She could have called over the rim of the world + Whatever woman's lover had hit her fancy, + And yet had been great bodied and great limbed, + Fashioned to be the mother of strong children; + And she'd had lucky eyes and a high heart, + And wisdom that caught fire like the dried flax, + At need, and made her beautiful and fierce, + Sudden and laughing. + O unquiet heart, + Why do you praise another, praising her, + As if there were no tale but your own tale + Worth knitting to a measure of sweet sound? + Have I not bid you tell of that great queen + Who has been buried some two thousand years? + + When night was at its deepest, a wild goose + Cried from the porter's lodge, and with long clamour + Shook the ale horns and shields upon their hooks; + But the horse-boys slept on, as though some power + Had filled the house with Druid heaviness; + And wondering who of the many changing Sidhe + Had come as in the old times to counsel her, + Maeve walked, yet with slow footfall being old, + To that small chamber by the outer gate. + The porter slept although he sat upright + With still and stony limbs and open eyes. + Maeve waited, and when that ear-piercing noise + Broke from his parted lips and broke again, + She laid a hand on either of his shoulders, + And shook him wide awake, and bid him say + Who of the wandering many-changing ones + Had troubled his sleep. But all he had to say + Was that, the air being heavy and the dogs + More still than they had been for a good month, + He had fallen asleep, and, though he had dreamed nothing, + He could remember when he had had fine dreams. + It was before the time of the great war + Over the White-Horned Bull, and the Brown Bull. + + She turned away; he turned again to sleep + That no god troubled now, and, wondering + What matters were afoot among the Sidhe, + Maeve walked through that great hall, and with a sigh + Lifted the curtain of her sleeping room, + Remembering that she too had seemed divine + To many thousand eyes, and to her own + One that the generations had long waited + That work too difficult for mortal hands + Might be accomplished. Bunching the curtain up + She saw her husband Ailell sleeping there, + And thought of days when he'd had a straight body, + And of that famous Fergus, Nessa's husband, + Who had been the lover of her middle life. + + Suddenly Ailell spoke out of his sleep, + And not with his own voice or a man's voice, + But with the burning, live, unshaken voice + Of those that it may be can never age. + He said, 'High Queen of Cruachan and Mag Ai + A king of the Great Plain would speak with you.' + And with glad voice Maeve answered him, 'What King + Of the far wandering shadows has come to me? + As in the old days when they would come and go + About my threshold to counsel and to help.' + The parted lips replied, 'I seek your help, + For I am Aengus and I am crossed in love.' + + 'How may a mortal whose life gutters out + Help them that wander with hand clasping hand + By rivers where nor rain nor hail has dimmed + Their haughty images, that cannot fade + Although their beauty's like a hollow dream.' + + 'I come from the undimmed rivers to bid you call + The children of the Maines out of sleep, + And set them digging into Anbual's hill. + We shadows, while they uproot his earthy house, + Will overthrow his shadows and carry off + Caer, his blue eyed daughter that I love. + I helped your fathers when they built these walls + And I would have your help in my great need, + Queen of high Cruachan.' + 'I obey your will + With speedy feet and a most thankful heart: + For you have been, O Aengus of the birds, + Our giver of good counsel and good luck.' + And with a groan, as if the mortal breath + Could but awaken sadly upon lips + That happier breath had moved, her husband turned + Face downward, tossing in a troubled sleep; + But Maeve, and not with a slow feeble foot, + Came to the threshold of the painted house, + Where her grandchildren slept, and cried aloud, + Until the pillared dark began to stir + With shouting and the clang of unhooked arms. + + She told them of the many-changing ones; + And all that night, and all through the next day + To middle night, they dug into the hill. + At middle night great cats with silver claws, + Bodies of shadow and blind eyes like pearls, + Came up out of the hole, and red-eared hounds + With long white bodies came out of the air + Suddenly, and ran at them and harried them. + + The Maines' children dropped their spades, and stood + With quaking joints and terror strucken faces, + Till Maeve called out, 'These are but common men. + The Maines' children have not dropped their spades + Because Earth crazy for its broken power + Casts up a show and the winds answer it + With holy shadows.' Her high heart was glad, + And when the uproar ran along the grass + She followed with light footfall in the midst, + Till it died out where an old thorn tree stood. + + Friend of these many years, you too had stood + With equal courage in that whirling rout; + For you, although you've not her wandering heart, + Have all that greatness, and not hers alone. + For there is no high story about queens + In any ancient book but tells of you, + And when I've heard how they grew old and died + Or fell into unhappiness I've said; + 'She will grow old and die and she has wept!' + And when I'd write it out anew, the words, + Half crazy with the thought, She too has wept! + Outrun the measure. + I'd tell of that great queen + Who stood amid a silence by the thorn + Until two lovers came out of the air + With bodies made out of soft fire. The one + About whose face birds wagged their fiery wings + Said, 'Aengus and his sweetheart give their thanks + To Maeve and to Maeve's household, owing all + In owing them the bride-bed that gives peace.' + Then Maeve, 'O Aengus, Master of all lovers, + A thousand years ago you held high talk + With the first kings of many pillared Cruachan. + O when will you grow weary.' + They had vanished, + But out of the dark air over her head there came + A murmur of soft words and meeting lips. + + + + +BAILE AND AILLINN. + + + Argument. Baile and Aillinn were lovers, but + Aengus, the Master of Love, wishing them to be + happy in his own land among the dead, told to + each a story of the other's death, so that their + hearts were broken and they died. + I hardly hear the curlew cry, + Nor the grey rush when wind is high, + Before my thoughts begin to run + On the heir of Ulad, Buan's son, + Baile who had the honey mouth, + And that mild woman of the south, + Aillinn, who was King Lugaid's heir. + Their love was never drowned in care + Of this or that thing, nor grew cold + Because their bodies had grown old; + Being forbid to marry on earth + They blossomed to immortal mirth. + + About the time when Christ was born, + When the long wars for the White Horn + And the Brown Bull had not yet come, + Young Baile Honey-Mouth, whom some + Called rather Baile Little-Land, + Rode out of Emain with a band + Of harpers and young men, and they + Imagined, as they struck the way + To many pastured Muirthemne, + That all things fell out happily + And there, for all that fools had said, + Baile and Aillinn would be wed. + + They found an old man running there, + He had ragged long grass-yellow hair; + He had knees that stuck out of his hose; + He had puddle water in his shoes; + He had half a cloak to keep him dry; + Although he had a squirrel's eye. + + O wandering birds and rushy beds + You put such folly in our heads + With all this crying in the wind + No common love is to our mind, + And our poor Kate or Nan is less + Than any whose unhappiness + Awoke the harp strings long ago. + Yet they that know all things but know + That all life had to give us is + A child's laughter, a woman's kiss. + + Who was it put so great a scorn + In the grey reeds that night and morn + Are trodden and broken by the herds, + And in the light bodies of birds + That north wind tumbles to and fro + And pinches among hail and snow? + + That runner said, 'I am from the south; + I run to Baile Honey-Mouth + To tell him how the girl Aillinn + Rode from the country of her kin + And old and young men rode with her: + For all that country had been astir + If anybody half as fair + Had chosen a husband anywhere + But where it could see her every day. + When they had ridden a little way + An old man caught the horse's head + With "You must home again and wed + With somebody in your own land." + A young man cried and kissed her hand + "O lady, wed with one of us;" + And when no face grew piteous + For any gentle thing she spake + She fell and died of the heart-break.' + + Because a lover's heart's worn out + Being tumbled and blown about + By its own blind imagining, + And will believe that anything + That is bad enough to be true, is true, + Baile's heart was broken in two; + And he being laid upon green boughs + Was carried to the goodly house + Where the Hound of Ulad sat before + The brazen pillars of his door; + His face bowed low to weep the end + Of the harper's daughter and her friend; + For although years had passed away + He always wept them on that day, + For on that day they had been betrayed; + And now that Honey-Mouth is laid + Under a cairn of sleepy stone + Before his eyes, he has tears for none, + Although he is carrying stone, but two + For whom the cairn's but heaped anew. + + We hold because our memory is + So full of that thing and of this + That out of sight is out of mind. + But the grey rush under the wind + And the grey bird with crooked bill + Have such long memories that they still + Remember Deirdre and her man, + And when we walk with Kate or Nan + About the windy water side + Our heart can hear the voices chide. + How could we be so soon content + Who know the way that Naoise went? + And they have news of Deirdre's eyes + Who being lovely was so wise, + Ah wise, my heart knows well how wise. + + Now had that old gaunt crafty one, + Gathering his cloak about him, run + Where Aillinn rode with waiting maids + Who amid leafy lights and shades + Dreamed of the hands that would unlace + Their bodices in some dim place + When they had come to the marriage bed; + And harpers pondering with bowed head + A music that had thought enough + Of the ebb of all things to make love + Grow gentle without sorrowings; + And leather-coated men with slings + Who peered about on every side; + And amid leafy light he cried, + 'He is well out of wind and wave, + They have heaped the stones above his grave + In Muirthemne and over it + In changeless Ogham letters writ + Baile that was of Rury's seed. + But the gods long ago decreed + No waiting maid should ever spread + Baile and Aillinn's marriage bed, + For they should clip and clip again + Where wild bees hive on the Great Plain. + Therefore it is but little news + That put this hurry in my shoes.' + And hurrying to the south he came + To that high hill the herdsmen name + The Hill Seat of Leighin, because + Some god or king had made the laws + That held the land together there, + In old times among the clouds of the air. + + That old man climbed; the day grew dim; + Two swans came flying up to him + Linked by a gold chain each to each + And with low murmuring laughing speech + Alighted on the windy grass. + They knew him: his changed body was + Tall, proud and ruddy, and light wings + Were hovering over the harp strings + That Etain, Midhir's wife, had wove + In the hid place, being crazed by love. + + What shall I call them? fish that swim + Scale rubbing scale where light is dim + By a broad water-lily leaf; + Or mice in the one wheaten sheaf + Forgotten at the threshing place; + Or birds lost in the one clear space + Of morning light in a dim sky; + Or it may be, the eyelids of one eye + Or the door pillars of one house, + Or two sweet blossoming apple boughs + That have one shadow on the ground; + Or the two strings that made one sound + Where that wise harper's finger ran; + For this young girl and this young man + Have happiness without an end + Because they have made so good a friend. + + They know all wonders, for they pass + The towery gates of Gorias + And Findrias and Falias + And long-forgotten Murias, + Among the giant kings whose hoard + Cauldron and spear and stone and sword + Was robbed before Earth gave the wheat; + Wandering from broken street to street + They come where some huge watcher is + And tremble with their love and kiss. + They know undying things, for they + Wander where earth withers away, + Though nothing troubles the great streams + But light from the pale stars, and gleams + From the holy orchards, where there is none + But fruit that is of precious stone, + Or apples of the sun and moon. + + What were our praise to them: they eat + Quiet's wild heart, like daily meat, + Who when night thickens are afloat + On dappled skins in a glass boat + Far out under a windless sky, + While over them birds of Aengus fly, + And over the tiller and the prow + And waving white wings to and fro + Awaken wanderings of light air + To stir their coverlet and their hair. + + And poets found, old writers say, + A yew tree where his body lay, + But a wild apple hid the grass + With its sweet blossom where hers was; + And being in good heart, because + A better time had come again + After the deaths of many men, + And that long fighting at the ford, + They wrote on tablets of thin board, + Made of the apple and the yew, + All the love stories that they knew. + + Let rush and bird cry out their fill + Of the harper's daughter if they will, + Beloved, I am not afraid of her + She is not wiser nor lovelier, + And you are more high of heart than she + For all her wanderings over-sea; + But I'd have bird and rush forget + Those other two, for never yet + Has lover lived but longed to wive + Like them that are no more alive. + + + + +THE ARROW. + + + I thought of your beauty and this arrow + Made out of a wild thought is in my marrow. + There's no man may look upon her, no man, + As when newly grown to be a woman, + Blossom pale, she pulled down the pale blossom + At the moth hour and hid it in her bosom. + This beauty's kinder yet for a reason + I could weep that the old is out of season. + + + + +THE FOLLY OF BEING COMFORTED. + + + One that is ever kind said yesterday: + 'Your well beloved's hair has threads of grey + And little shadows come about her eyes; + Time can but make it easier to be wise + Though now it's hard, till trouble is at an end; + And so be patient, be wise and patient, friend.' + But heart, there is no comfort, not a grain. + Time can but make her beauty over again + Because of that great nobleness of hers; + The fire that stirs about her, when she stirs + Burns but more clearly; O she had not these ways + When all the wild summer was in her gaze. + O heart, O heart, if she'd but turn her head, + You'd know the folly of being comforted. + + + + +THE WITHERING OF THE BOUGHS. + + + I cried when the moon was murmuring to the birds, + 'Let peewit call and curlew cry where they will, + I long for your merry and tender and pitiful words, + For the roads are unending and there is no place to my mind.' + The honey-pale moon lay low on the sleepy hill + And I fell asleep upon lonely Echtge of streams; + No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind, + The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams. + + I know of the leafy paths that the witches take, + Who come with their crowns of pearl and their spindles of wool, + And their secret smile, out of the depths of the lake; + And of apple islands where the Danaan kind + Wind and unwind their dances when the light grows cool + On the island lawns, their feet where the pale foam gleams; + No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind, + The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams. + + I know of the sleepy country, where swans fly round + Coupled with golden chains and sing as they fly, + A king and a queen are wandering there, and the sound + Has made them so happy and hopeless, so deaf and so blind + With wisdom, they wander till all the years have gone by; + I know, and the curlew and peewit on Echtge of streams; + No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind, + The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams. + + + + +ADAM'S CURSE. + + + We sat together at one summer's end + That beautiful mild woman your close friend + And you and I, and talked of poetry. + + I said 'a line will take us hours maybe, + Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought + Our stitching and unstitching has been naught. + Better go down upon your marrow bones + And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones + Like an old pauper in all kinds of weather; + For to articulate sweet sounds together + Is to work harder than all these and yet + Be thought an idler by the noisy set + Of bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymen + The martyrs call the world.' + + That woman then + Murmured with her young voice, for whose mild sake + There's many a one shall find out all heartache + In finding that it's young and mild and low. + 'There is one thing that all we women know + Although we never heard of it at school, + That we must labour to be beautiful.' + + I said, 'It's certain there is no fine thing + Since Adam's fall but needs much labouring. + There have been lovers who thought love should be + So much compounded of high courtesy + That they would sigh and quote with learned looks + Precedents out of beautiful old books; + Yet now it seems an idle trade enough.' + + We sat grown quiet at the name of love. + We saw the last embers of daylight die + And in the trembling blue-green of the sky + A moon, worn as if it had been a shell + Washed by time's waters as they rose and fell + About the stars and broke in days and years. + + I had a thought for no one's but your ears; + That you were beautiful and that I strove + To love you in the old high way of love; + That it had all seemed happy, and yet we'd grown + As weary hearted as that hollow moon. + + + + +THE SONG OF RED HANRAHAN. + + + The old brown thorn trees break in two high over Cummen Strand + Under a bitter black wind that blows from the left hand, + Our courage breaks like an old tree in a black wind and dies; + But we have hidden in our hearts the flame out of the eyes + Of Cathleen the daughter of Houlihan. + + The wind has bundled up the clouds high over Knocknarea + And thrown the thunder on the stones for all that Maeve can say. + Angers that are like noisy clouds have set our hearts abeat; + But we have all bent low and low and kissed the quiet feet + Of Cathleen the daughter of Houlihan. + + The yellow pool has overflowed high up on Clooth-na-Bare, + For the wet winds are blowing out of the clinging air; + Like heavy flooded waters our bodies and our blood; + But purer than a tall candle before the Holy Rood + Is Cathleen the daughter of Houlihan. + + + + +THE OLD MEN ADMIRING THEMSELVES IN THE WATER. + + + I heard the old, old men say + 'Everything alters, + And one by one we drop away.' + They had hands like claws, and their knees + Were twisted like the old thorn trees + By the waters. + I heard the old, old men say + 'All that's beautiful drifts away + Like the waters.' + + + + +UNDER THE MOON. + + + I have no happiness in dreaming of Brycelinde; + Nor Avalon the grass green hollow, nor Joyous Isle, + Where one found Lancelot crazed and hid him for a while, + Nor Ulad when Naoise had thrown a sail upon the wind, + Nor lands that seem too dim to be burdens on the heart, + Land-under-Wave, where out of the moon's light and the sun's + Seven old sisters wind the threads of the long lived ones, + Land-of-the-Tower, where Aengus has thrown the gates apart, + And Wood-of-Wonders, where one kills an ox at dawn + To find it when night falls laid on a golden bier: + Therein are many queens like Branwen, and Guinivere; + And Niam, and Laban, and Fand, who could change to an otter or fawn + And the wood-woman whose lover was changed to a blue-eyed hawk; + And whether I go in my dreams by woodland, or dun, or shore, + Or on the unpeopled waves with kings to pull at the oar, + I hear the harp string praise them or hear their mournful talk. + Because of a story I heard under the thin horn + Of the third moon, that hung between the night and the day, + To dream of women whose beauty was folded in dismay, + Even in an old story, is a burden not to be borne. + + + + +THE PLAYERS ASK FOR A BLESSING ON THE PSALTERIES AND THEMSELVES. + + + Three Voices together + Hurry to bless the hands that play, + The mouths that speak, the notes and strings, + O masters of the glittering town! + O! lay the shrilly trumpet down, + Though drunken with the flags that sway + Over the ramparts and the towers, + And with the waving of your wings. + First Voice + Maybe they linger by the way; + One gathers up his purple gown; + One leans and mutters by the wall; + He dreads the weight of mortal hours. + Second Voice + O no, O no, they hurry down + Like plovers that have heard the call. + Third Voice + O, kinsmen of the Three in One, + O, kinsmen bless the hands that play. + The notes they waken shall live on + When all this heavy history's done. + Our hands, our hands must ebb away. + Three Voices together + The proud and careless notes live on + But bless our hands that ebb away. + + + + +THE RIDER FROM THE NORTH. + +From the play of The Country of the Young. + + + There's many a strong farmer + Whose heart would break in two + If he could see the townland + That we are riding to; + Boughs have their fruit and blossom, + At all times of the year, + Rivers are running over + With red beer and brown beer. + An old man plays the bagpipes + In a golden and silver wood, + Queens, their eyes blue like the ice, + Are dancing in a crowd. + The little fox he murmured, + 'O what is the world's bane?' + The sun was laughing sweetly, + The moon plucked at my rein; + But the little red fox murmured, + 'O do not pluck at his rein, + He is riding to the townland + That is the world's bane.' + + When their hearts are so high, + That they would come to blows, + They unhook their heavy swords + From golden and silver boughs; + But all that are killed in battle + Awaken to life again; + It is lucky that their story + Is not known among men. + For O the strong farmers + That would let the spade lie, + For their hearts would be like a cup + That somebody had drunk dry. + The little fox he murmured, + 'O what is the world's bane?' + The sun was laughing sweetly, + The moon plucked at my rein; + But the little red fox murmured, + 'O do not pluck at his rein, + He is riding to the townland + That is the world's bane.' + + Michael will unhook his trumpet + From a bough overhead, + And blow a little noise + When the supper has been spread. + Gabriel will come from the water + With a fish tail, and talk + Of wonders that have happened + On wet roads where men walk, + And lift up an old horn + Of hammered silver, and drink + Till he has fallen asleep + Upon the starry brink. + The little fox he murmured, + 'O what is the world's bane?' + The sun was laughing sweetly, + The moon plucked at my rein; + But the little red fox murmured, + 'O do not pluck at his rein, + He is riding to the townland, + That is the world's bane.' + + I made some of these poems walking about + among the Seven Woods, before the big wind of + nineteen hundred and three blew down so many + trees, & troubled the wild creatures, & changed the + look of things; and I thought out there a good + part of the play which follows. The first shape of + it came to me in a dream, but it changed much in + the making, foreshadowing, it may be, a change + that may bring a less dream-burdened will into my + verses. I never re-wrote anything so many times; + for at first I could not make these wills that stream + into mere life poetical. But now I hope to do + easily much more of the kind, and that our new + Irish players will find the buskin and the sock. + + + + +ON BAILE'S STRAND: A PLAY. + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY. + + CUCHULLAIN, the King of Muirthemne. + CONCOBAR, the High King of Ullad. + DAIRE, a King. + FINTAIN, a blind man. + BARACH, a fool. + A Young Man. + Young Kings and Old Kings. + + +SCENE: A great hall by the sea close to Dundalgan. There are two great +chairs on either side of the hall, each raised a little from the ground, +and on the back of the one chair is carved and painted a woman with a +fish's tail, and on the back of the other a hound. There are smaller +chairs and benches raised in tiers round the walls. There is a great ale +vat at one side near a small door, & a large door at the back through +which one can see the sea. Barach, a tall thin man with long ragged +hair, dressed in skins, comes in at the side door. He is leading +Fintain, a fat blind man, who is somewhat older. + +BARACH. + + I will shut the door, for this wind out of the sea gets into my bones, + and if I leave but an inch for the wind there is one like a flake of + sea-frost that might come into the house. + +FINTAIN. + + What is his name, fool? + +BARACH. + + It's a woman from among the Riders of the Sidhe. It's Boann herself + from the river. She has left the Dagda's bed, and gone through the + salt of the sea & up here to the strand of Baile, and all for love of + me. Let her keep her husband's bed, for she'll have none of me. Nobody + knows how lecherous these goddesses are. I see her in every kind of + shape but oftener than not she's in the wind and cries 'give a kiss + and put your arms about me.' But no, she'll have no more of me. + Yesterday when I put out my lips to kiss her, there was nothing there + but the wind. She's bad, Fintain. O, she's bad. I had better shut + the big door too. (He is going towards the big door but turns hearing + Fintain's voice.) + +FINTAIN. + + (Who has been feeling about with his stick.) What's this and this? + +BARACH. + + They are chairs. + +FINTAIN. + + And this? + +BARACH. + + Why, that's a bench. + +FINTAIN. + + And this? + +BARACH. + + A big chair. + +FINTAIN. + + (Feeling the back of the chair.) There is a sea-woman carved upon it. + +BARACH. + + And there is another big chair on the other side of the hall. + +FINTAIN. + + Lead me to it. (He mutters while the fool is leading him.) That is + what the High King Concobar has on his shield. The High King will be + coming. They have brought out his chair. (He begins feeling the back + of the other chair.) And there is a dog's head on this. They have + brought out our master's chair. Now I know what the horse-boys were + talking about. We must not stay here. The Kings are going to meet + here. Now that Concobar and our master, that is his chief man, have + put down all the enemies of Ullad, they are going to build up Emain + again. They are going to talk over their plans for building it. Were + you ever in Concobar's town before it was burnt? O, he is a great + King, for though Emain was burnt down, every war had made him richer. + He has gold and silver dishes, and chessboards and candle-sticks made + of precious stones. Fool, have they taken the top from the ale vat? + +BARACH. + + They have. + +FINTAIN. + + Then bring me a horn of ale quickly, for the Kings will be here in a + minute. Now I can listen. Tell me what you saw this morning? + +BARACH. + + About the young man and the fighting? + +FINTAIN. + + Yes. + +BARACH. + + And after that we can go and eat the fowl, for I am hungry. + +FINTAIN. + + Time enough, time enough. You're in as great a hurry as when you + brought me to Aine's Seat, where the mad dogs gather when the moon's + at the full. Go on with your story. + +BARACH. + + I was creeping under a ditch, with the fowl in my leather bag, keeping + to the shore where the farmer could not see me, when I came upon a + ship drawn up upon the sands, a great red ship with a woman's head + upon it. + +FINTAIN. + + A ship out of Aoife's country. They have all a woman's head on the bow. + +BARACH. + + There was a young man with a pale face and red hair standing beside + it. Some of our people came up whose turn it was to guard the shore. I + heard them ask the young man his name. He said he was under bonds not + to tell it. Then words came between them, and they fought, & the young + man killed half of them, and the others ran away. + +FINTAIN. + + It matters nothing to us, but he has come at last. + +BARACH. + + Who has come? + +FINTAIN. + + I know who that young man is. There is not another like him in the + world. I saw him when I had my eyesight. + +BARACH. + + You saw him? + +FINTAIN. + + I used to be in Aoife's country when I had my eyesight. + +BARACH. + + That was before you went on shipboard and were blinded for putting a + curse on the wind? + +FINTAIN. + + Queen Aoife had a son that was red haired and pale faced like herself, + and everyone said that he would kill Cuchullain some day, but I would + not have that spoken of. + +BARACH. + + Nobody could do that. Who was his father? + +FINTAIN. + + Nobody but Aoife knew that, not even he himself. + +BARACH. + + Not even he himself! Was Aoife a goddess & lecherous? + +FINTAIN. + + I overheard her telling that she never had but one lover, and that he + was the only man who overcame her in battle. There were some who + thought him one of the Riders of the Sidhe, because the child was + great of limb and strong beyond others. The child was begotten over + the mountains; but come nearer and I will tell you something. + +BARACH. + + You have thought something? + +FINTAIN. + + When I hear the young girls talking about the colour of Cuchullain's + eyes, & how they have seven colours, I have thought about it. That + young man has Aoife's face and hair, but he has Cuchullain's eyes. + +BARACH. + + How can he have Cuchullain's eyes? + +FINTAIN. + + He is Cuchullain's son. + +BARACH. + + And his mother has sent him hither to fight his father. + +FINTAIN. + + It is all quite plain. Cuchullain went into Aoife's country when he + was a young man that he might learn skill in arms, and there he became + Aoife's lover. + +BARACH. + + And now she hates him because he went away, and has sent the son to + kill the father. I knew she was a goddess. + +FINTAIN. + + And she never told him who his father was, that he might do it. I have + thought it all out, fool. I know a great many things because I + listen when nobody is noticing and I keep my wits awake. What ails you + now? + +BARACH. + + I have remembered that I am hungry. + +FINTAIN. + + Well, forget it again, and I will tell you about Aoife's country. It + is full of wonders. There are a great many Queens there who can change + themselves into wolves and into swine and into white hares, and when + they are in their own shapes they are stronger than almost any man; + and there are young men there who have cat's eyes and if a bird + chirrup or a mouse squeak they cannot keep them shut even though it is + bedtime and they sleepy; and listen, for this is a great wonder, a + very great wonder, there is a long narrow bridge, and when anybody + goes to cross it, that the Queens do not like, it flies up as this + bench would if you were to sit on the end of it. Everybody who goes + there to learn skill in arms has to cross it. It was in that country + too that Cuchullain got his spear made out of dragon bones. There were + two dragons fighting in the foam of the sea, & their grandam was the + moon, and six Queens came along the shore. + +BARACH. + + I won't listen to your story. + +FINTAIN. + + It is a very wonderful story. Wait till you hear what the six Queens + did. Their right hands were all made of silver. + +BARACH. + + No, I will have my dinner first. You have eaten the fowl I left in + front of the fire. The last time you sent me to steal something you + made me forget all about it till you had eaten it up. + +FINTAIN. + + No, there is plenty for us both. + +BARACH. + + Come with me where it is. + +FINTAIN. + + (Who is being led towards the door at the back by Barach.) O, it is + all right, it is in a safe place. + +BARACH. + + It is a fine fowl. It was the biggest in the yard. + +FINTAIN. + + It had a good smell, but I hope that the wild dogs have not smelt it. + (Voices are heard outside the door at the side.) Here is our master. + Let us stay and talk with him. Perhaps Cuchullain will give you a new + cap with a feather. He told me that he would give you a new cap with a + feather, a feather with an eye that looks at you, a peacock's feather. + +BARACH. + + No, no. (He begins pulling Fintain towards the door.) + +FINTAIN. + + If you do not get it now, you may never get it, for the young man may + kill him. + +BARACH. + + No, no, I am hungry. What a head you have, blind man. Who but you + would have remembered that the hen-wife slept for a little at noon + every day. + +FINTAIN. + + (Who is being led along very slowly and unwillingly.) Yes, I have a + good head. The fowl should be done just right, but one never knows + when a wild dog may come out of the woods. (They go out through the + big door at the back. As they go out Cuchullain & certain young Kings + come in at the side door. Cuchullain though still young is a good deal + older than the others. They are all very gaily dressed, and have their + hair fastened with balls of gold. The young men crowd about Cuchullain + with wondering attention.) + +FIRST YOUNG KING. + + You have hurled that stone beyond our utmost mark + Time after time, but yet you are not weary. + +SECOND YOUNG KING. + + He has slept on the bare ground of Fuad's Hill + This week past, waiting for the bulls and the deer. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + Well, why should I be weary? + +FIRST YOUNG KING. + + It is certain + His father was the god who wheels the sun, + And not king Sualtam. + +THIRD YOUNG KING. + + (To a young King who is beside him.) He came in the dawn, + And folded Dectara in a sudden fire. + +FOURTH YOUNG KING. + + And yet the mother's half might well grow weary, + And it new come from labours over sea. + +THIRD YOUNG KING. + + He has been on islands walled about with silver, + And fought with giants. + + (They gather about the ale vat and begin to drink.) + +CUCHULLAIN. + + Who was it that went out? + +THIRD YOUNG KING. + + As we came in? + +CUCHULLAIN. + + Yes. + +THIRD YOUNG KING. + + Barach and blind Fintain. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + They always flock together; the blind man + Has need of the fool's eyesight and strong body, + While the poor fool has need of the other's wit, + And night and day is up to his ears in mischief + That the blind man imagines. There's no hen-yard + But clucks and cackles when he passes by + As if he'd been a fox. If I'd that ball + That's in your hair and the big stone again, + I'd keep them tossing, though the one is heavy + And the other light in the hand. A trick I learnt + When I was learning arms in Aoife's country. + +FIRST YOUNG KING. + + What kind of woman was that Aoife? + +CUCHULLAIN. + + Comely. + +FIRST YOUNG KING. + + But I have heard that she was never married, + And yet that's natural, for I have never known + A fighting woman, but made her favours cheap, + Or mocked at love till she grew sandy dry. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + What manner of woman do you like the best? + A gentle or a fierce. + +FIRST YOUNG KING. + + A gentle surely. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + I think that a fierce woman's better, a woman + That breaks away when you have thought her won, + For I'd be fed and hungry at one time. + I think that all deep passion is but a kiss + In the mid battle, and a difficult peace + 'Twixt oil and water, candles and dark night, + Hill-side and hollow, the hot-footed sun, + And the cold sliding slippery-footed moon, + A brief forgiveness between opposites + That have been hatreds for three times the age + Of his long 'stablished ground. Here's Concobar; + So I'll be done, but keep beside me still, + For while he talks of hammered bronze and asks + What wood is best for building, we can talk + Of a fierce woman. + + (Concobar, a man much older than Cuchullain, has come in through the + great door at the back. He has many Kings about him. One of these + Kings, Daire, a stout old man, is somewhat drunk.) + +CONCOBAR. + + (To one of those about him.) Has the ship gone + yet? We have need of more bronze workers + and that ship I sent to Africa for gold is late. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + I knew their talk. + +CONCOBAR. + + (Seeing Cuchullain.) You are before us, King. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + So much the better, for I welcome you + Into my Muirthemne. + +CONCOBAR. + + But who are these? + The odour from their garments when they stir + Is like a wind out of an apple garden. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + My swordsmen and harp players and fine dancers, + My bosom friends. + +CONCOBAR. + + I should have thought, Cuchullain, + My graver company would better match + Your greatness and your years; but I waste breath + In harping on that tale. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + You do, great King. + Because their youth is the kind wandering wave + That carries me about the world; and if it sank, + My sword would lose its lightness. + +CONCOBAR. + + Yet, Cuchullain, + Emain should be the foremost town of the world. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + It is the foremost town. + +CONCOBAR. + + No, no, it's not. + Nothing but men can make towns great, and he, + The one over-topping man that's in the world, + Keeps far away. + +DAIRE. + + He will not hear you, King, + And we old men had best keep company + With one another. I'll fill the horn for you. + +CONCOBAR. + + I will not drink, old fool. You have drunk a horn + At every door we came to. + +DAIRE. + + You'd better drink, + For old men light upon their youth again + In the brown ale. When I have drunk enough, + I am like Cuchullain as one pea another, + And live like a bird's flight from tree to tree. + +CONCOBAR. + + We'll to our chairs for we have much to talk of, + And we have Ullad and Muirthemne, and here + Is Conall Muirthemne in the nick of time. + + (He goes to the back of stage to welcome a company of Kings who come + in through the great door. The other Kings gradually get into their + places. Cuchullain sits in his great chair with certain of the young + men standing around him. Others of the young men, however, remain with + Daire at the ale vat. Daire holds out the horn of ale to one or two + of the older Kings as they pass him going to their places. They pass + him by, most of them silently refusing.) + +DAIRE. + + Will you not drink? + +AN OLD KING. + + Not till the council's over. + +A YOUNG KING. + + But I'll drink, Daire. + +ANOTHER YOUNG KING. + + Fill me a horn too, Daire. + +ANOTHER YOUNG KING. + + If I'd drunk half that you have drunk to-day, + I'd be upon all fours. + +DAIRE. + + That would be natural + When Mother Earth had given you this good milk + From her great breasts. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + (To one of the young Kings beside him) + + One is content awhile + With a soft warm woman who folds up our lives + In silky network. Then, one knows not why, + But one's away after a flinty heart. + +THE YOUNG KING. + + How long can the net keep us? + +CUCHULLAIN. + + All our lives + If there are children, and a dozen moons + If there are none, because a growing child + Has so much need of watching it can make + A passion that's as changeable as the sea + Change till it holds the wide earth to its heart. + At least I have heard a father say it, but I + Being childless do not know it. Come nearer yet; + Though he is ringing that old silver rod + We'll have our own talk out. They cannot hear us. + + (Concobar who is now seated in his great chair, opposite Cuchullain, + beats upon the pillar of the house that is nearest to him with a rod + of silver, till the Kings have become silent. Cuchullain alone + continues to talk in a low voice to those about him, but not so loud + as to disturb the silence. Concobar rises and speaks standing.) + +CONCOBAR. + + I have called you hither, Kings of Ullad, and Kings + Of Muirthemne and Connall Muirthemne, + And tributary Kings, for now there is peace-- + It's time to build up Emain that was burned + At the outsetting of these wars; for we, + Being the foremost men, should have high chairs + And be much stared at and wondered at, and speak + Out of more laughing overflowing hearts + Than common men. It is the art of kings + To make what's noble nobler in men's eyes + By wide uplifted roofs, where beaten gold, + That's ruddy with desire, marries pale silver + Among the shadowing beams; and many a time + I would have called you hither to this work, + But always, when I'd all but summoned you, + Some war or some rebellion would break out. + +DAIRE. + + Where's Maine Morgor and old Usnach's children, + And that high-headed even-walking Queen, + And many near as great that got their death + Because you hated peace. I can remember + The people crying out when Deirdre passed + And Maine Morgor had a cold grey eye. + Well, well, I'll throw this heel-tap on the ground, + For it may be they are thirsty. + +A KING. + + Be silent, fool. + +ANOTHER KING. + + Be silent, Daire. + +CONCOBAR. + + Let him speak his mind. + I have no need to be afraid of ghosts, + For I have made but necessary wars. + I warred to strengthen Emain, or because + When wars are out they marry and beget + And have their generations like mankind + And there's no help for it; but I'm well content + That they have ended and left the town so great, + That its mere name shall be in times to come + Like a great ale vat where the men of the world + Shall drink no common ale but the hard will, + The unquenchable hope, the friendliness of the sword. + + (He takes thin boards on which plans have been carved by those about + him.) + + Give me the building plans, and have you written + That we--Cuchullain is looking in his shield; + It may be the pale riders of the wind + Throw pictures on it, or that Mananan, + His father's friend and sometime fosterer, + Foreknower of all things, has cast a vision, + Out of the cold dark of the rich sea, + Foretelling Emain's greatness. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + No, great King, + I looked on this out of mere idleness, + Imagining a woman that I loved. + + (The sound of a trumpet without.) + +CONCOBAR. + + Open the door, for that is a herald's trumpet. + + (The great door at the back is flung open; a young man who is fully + armed and carries a shield with a woman's head painted on it, stands + upon the threshold. Behind him are trumpeters. He walks into the + centre of the hall, the trumpeting ceases.) + + What is your message? + +YOUNG MAN. + + I am of Aoife's army. + +FIRST KING. + + Queen Aoife and her army have fallen upon us. + +SECOND KING. + + Out swords! Out swords! + +THIRD KING. + + They are about the house. + +FOURTH KING. + + Rush out! Rush out! Before they have fired the thatch. + +YOUNG MAN. + + Aoife is far away. I am alone. + I have come alone in the midst of you + To weigh this sword against Cuchullain's sword. + + (There is a murmur amongst the Kings.) + +CONCOBAR. + + And are you noble? for if of common seed + You cannot weigh your sword against his sword + But in mixed battle. + +YOUNG MAN. + + I am under bonds + To tell my name to no man, but it's noble. + +CONCOBAR. + + But I would know your name and not your bonds. + You cannot speak in the Assembly House + If you are not noble. + +A KING. + + Answer the High King. + +YOUNG MAN. + + (Drawing his sword.) + + I will give no other proof than the hawk gives + That it's no sparrow. + + (He is silent a moment then speaks to all.) + + Yet look upon me, Kings; + I too am of that ancient seed and carry + The signs about this body and in these bones. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + To have shown the hawk's grey feather is enough + And you speak highly too. + + (Cuchullain comes down from his great chair. He remains standing on + the steps of the chair. The young Kings gather about him and begin to + arm him.) + + Give me that helmet! + I'd thought they had grown weary sending champions. + That coat will do. I'd half forgotten, boy, + How all those great kings came into the mouse-trap + That had been baited with Maeve's pretty daughter. + How Findabair, that blue-eyed Findabair-- + But the tale is worthy of a winter's night. + That buckle should be tighter. Give me your shield. + There is good level ground at Baile's Yew-tree + Some dozen yards from here, and it's but truth + That I am sad to-day and this fight welcome. + + (He looks hard at the Young Man, and then steps down on to the floor + of the Assembly House. He grasps the Young Man by the shoulder.) + + Hither into the light. + + (Turning to one of the young Kings) + + That's the very tint + Of her that I was speaking of but now: + Not a pin's difference. + + (To the Young Man) + + You are from the North + Where there are many that have that tint of hair + Red brown, the light red brown. Come nearer, boy! + For I would have another look at you. + There's more likeness, a pale, a stone pale cheek. + What brought you, boy? Have you no fear of death? + +YOUNG MAN. + + Whether I live or die is in the Gods' hands. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + That is all words, all words, a young man's talk; + I am their plough, their harrow, their very strength, + For he that's in the sun begot this body + Upon a mortal woman, and I have heard tell + It seemed as if he had outrun the moon, + That he must always follow through waste heaven, + He loved so happily. He'll be but slow + To break a tree that was so sweetly planted. + Let's see that arm; I'll see it if I like. + That arm had a good father and a good mother + But it is not like this. + +YOUNG MAN. + + You are mocking me. + You think I am not worthy to be fought, + But I'll not wrangle but with this talkative knife. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + Put up your sword, I am not mocking you. + I'd have you for my friend, but if it's not + Because you have a hot heart and a cold eye + I cannot tell the reason. You've got her fierceness, + And nobody is as fierce as those pale women. + + (To the young Kings) + + We'll keep him here in Muirthemne awhile. + +A YOUNG KING. + + You are the leader of our pack and therefore + May cry what you will. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + You'll stop with us + And we will hunt the deer and the wild bulls + And, when we have grown weary, light our fires + In sandy places where the wool-white foam + Is murmuring and breaking, and it may be + That long-haired women will come out of the dunes + To dance in the yellow fire-light. You hang your head, + Young man, as if it was not a good life; + And yet what's better than to hurl the spear, + And hear the long-remembering harp, and dance; + Friendship grows quicker in the murmuring dark; + But I can see there's no more need for words + And that you'll be my friend now. + +FIRST OLD KING. + + Concobar, + Forbid their friendship, for it will get twisted + To a reproach against us. + +CONCOBAR. + + Until now + I'd never need to cry Cuchullain on + And would not now. + +FIRST OLD KING. + + They'll say his manhood's quenched. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + I'll give you gifts, but I'll have something too, + An arm-ring or the like, and if you will + We'll fight it out when you are older, boy. + +AN OLD KING. + + Aoife will make some story out of this. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + Well, well, what matter, I'll have that arm-ring, boy. + +YOUNG MAN. + + There is no man I'd sooner have my friend + Than you whose name has gone about the world + As if it had been the wind, but Aoife'd say + I had turned coward. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + I'll give you gifts + That Aoife'll know and all her people know + To have been my gifts. Mananan son of the sea + Gave me this heavy purple cloak. Nine Queens + Of the Land-under-Wave had woven it + Out of the fleeces of the sea. O! tell her + I was afraid, or tell her what you will. + No! tell her that I heard a raven croak + On the north side of the house and was afraid. + +AN OLD KING. + + Some witch of the air has troubled Cuchullain's mind. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + No witchcraft, his head is like a woman's head + I had a fancy for. + +SECOND OLD KING. + + A witch of the air + Can make a leaf confound us with memories. + They have gone to school to learn the trick of it. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + But there's no trick in this. That arm-ring, boy. + +THIRD OLD KING. + + He shall not go unfought, I'll fight with him. + +FOURTH OLD KING. + + No! I will fight with him. + +FIRST OLD KING. + + I claim the fight, + For when we sent an army to her land-- + +SECOND OLD KING. + + I claim the fight, for one of Aoife's galleys + Stole my great cauldron and a herd of pigs. + +THIRD OLD KING. + + No, no, I claim it, for at Lammas' time-- + +CUCHULLAIN. + + Back! Back! Put up your swords! Put up your swords! + There's none alive that shall accept a challenge + I have refused. Laegaire, put up your sword. + +YOUNG MAN. + + No, let them come, let any three together. + If they've a mind to, I'll try it out with four. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + That's spoken as I'd spoken it at your age, + But you are in my house. Whatever man + Would fight with you shall fight it out with me. + They're dumb. They're dumb. How many of you would meet + (drawing his sword) + This mutterer, this old whistler, this sand-piper, + This edge that's greyer than the tide, this mouse + That's gnawing at the timbers of the world, + This, this--Boy, I would meet them all in arms + If I'd a son like you. He would avenge me + When I have withstood for the last time the men + Whose fathers, brothers, sons, and friends I have killed + Upholding Ullad; when the four provinces + Have gathered with the ravens over them. + But I'd need no avenger. You and I + Would scatter them like water from a dish. + +YOUNG MAN. + + We'll stand by one another from this out. + Here is the ring. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + No, turn and turn about + But my turn is first, because I am the older. + Cliodna embroidered these bird wings, but Fand + Made all these little golden eyes with the hairs + That she had stolen out of Aengus' beard, + And therefore none that has this cloak about him + Is crossed in love. The heavy inlaid brooch + That Buan hammered has a merit too. + + (He begins spreading the cloak out on a bench, showing it to the Young + Man. Suddenly Concobar beats with his silver rod on a pillar beside + his chair. All turn towards him.) + +CONCOBAR. + + (In a loud voice.) + + No more of that, I will not have this friendship. + Cuchullain is my man and I forbid it; + He shall not go unfought for I myself-- + +CUCHULLAIN. + + (Seizing Concobar.) You shall not stir, High King, I'll hold you there. + +CONCOBAR. + + Witchcraft has maddened you. + +THE KINGS. + + (Shouting.) Yes, witchcraft, witchcraft. + +A KING. + + You saw another's head upon his shoulders + All of a sudden, a woman's head, Cuchullain, + Then raised your hand against the King of Ullad. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + (Letting Concobar go, and looking wildly about him.) + + Yes, yes, all of a sudden, all of a sudden. + +DAIRE. + + Why, there's no witchcraft in it, I myself + Have made a hundred of these sudden friendships + And fought it out next day. But that was folly, + For now that I am old I know it is best + To live in comfort. + +A KING. + + Pull the fool away. + +DAIRE. + + I'll throw a heel-tap to the one that dies. + +CONCOBAR. + + Some witch is floating in the air above us. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + Yes, witchcraft, witchcraft and the power of witchcraft. + + (To the Young Man) + + Why did you do it? was it Calatin's daughters? + Out, out, I say, for now it's sword on sword. + +YOUNG MAN. + + But, but, I did not. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + Out, I say, out, out! + Sword upon sword. + + (He goes towards the door at back, followed by Young Man. He turns on + the threshold and cries out, looking at the Young Man.) + + That hair my hands were drowned in! + + (He goes out, followed by Young Man. The other Kings begin to follow + them out.) + +A KING. + + I saw him fight with Ferdiad. + +SECOND KING. + + We'll be too late + They're such a long time getting through the door. + +THIRD KING. + + Run quicker, quicker. + +DAIRE. + + I was at the Smith's + When he that was the boy Setanta then-- + + (Sound of fighting outside.) + +THIRD KING. + + He will have killed him. They have begun the fight! + + (They all go out, leaving the house silent and empty. There is a + pause during which one hears the clashing of the swords. Barach and + Fintain come in from side door. Barach is dragging Fintain.) + +BARACH. + + You have eaten it, you have eaten it, you have left me nothing but the + bones. + +FINTAIN. + + O, that I should have to endure such a plague. O, I ache all over. O, + I am pulled in pieces. This is the way you pay me all the good I have + done you! + +BARACH. + + You have eaten it, you have told me lies about a wild dog. Nobody has + seen a wild dog about the place this twelve month. Lie there till the + Kings come. O, I will tell Concobar and Cuchullain and all the Kings + about you! + +FINTAIN. + + What would have happened to you but for me, and you without your wits. + If I did not take care of you what would you do for food and warmth! + +BARACH. + + You take care of me? You stay safe and send me into every kind of + danger. You sent me down the cliff for gull's eggs while you warmed + your blind eyes in the sun. And then you ate all that were good for + food. You left me the eggs that were neither egg nor bird. (The blind + man tries to rise. Barach makes him lie down again.) + + Keep quiet now till I shut the door. There is some noise outside. + There are swords crossing; a high vexing noise so that I can't be + listening to myself. (He goes to the big door at the back and shuts + it.) Why can't they be quiet, why can't they be quiet. Ah, you would + get away, would you? (He follows the blind man who has been crawling + along the wall and makes him lie down close to the King's chair.) Lie + there, lie there. No, you won't get away. Lie there till the Kings + come, I'll tell them all about you. I shall tell it all. How you sit + warming yourself, when you have made me light a fire of sticks, while + I sit blowing it with my mouth. Do you not always make me take the + windy side of the bush when it blows and the rainy side when it rains? + +FINTAIN. + + O good fool, listen to me. Think of the care I have taken of you. I + have brought you to many a warm hearth, where there was a good welcome + for you, but you would not stay there, you were always wandering + about. + +BARACH. + + The last time you brought me in, it was not I who wandered away, but + you that got put out because you took the crubeen out of the pot, when + you thought nobody was looking. Keep quiet now, keep quiet till I shut + the door. Here is Cuchullain, now you will be beaten. I am going to + tell him everything. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + (Comes in and says to the fool) Give me that horn. (The fool gives him + a horn which Cuchullain fills with ale and drinks.) + +FINTAIN. + + Do not listen to him, listen to me. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + What are you wrangling over? + +BARACH. + + He is fat and good for nothing. He has left me the bones and the + feathers. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + What feathers? + +BARACH. + + I left him turning a fowl at the fire. He ate it all. He left me + nothing but the bones and feathers. + +FINTAIN. + + Do not believe him. You do not know how vain this fool is. I gave him + the feathers, because I thought he would like nothing so well. + + (Barach is sitting on a bench playing with a heap of feathers which he + has taken out of the breast of his coat.) + +BARACH. + + (Singing) When you were an acorn on the tree top-- + +FINTAIN. + + Where would he be but for me? I must be always thinking, thinking to + get food for the two of us, and when we've got it, if the moon's at + the full or the tide on the turn, he'll leave the rabbit in its snare + till it is full of maggots, or let the trout slip through his hands + back into the water. + +BARACH. + + (Singing) When you were an acorn on the tree top, + Then was I an eagle cock; + Now that you are a withered old block, + Still am I an eagle cock! + +FINTAIN. + + Listen to him now! That's the sort of talk I have to put up with day + out day in. (The fool is putting the feathers into his hair. + Cuchullain takes a handful of feathers out of the heap and out of the + fool's hair and begins to wipe the blood from his sword with them.) + +BARACH. + + He has taken my feathers to wipe his sword. It is blood that he is + wiping from his sword! + +FINTAIN. + + Whose blood? Whose blood? + +CUCHULLAIN. + + That young champion's. + +FINTAIN. + + He that came out of Aoife's country? + +CUCHULLAIN. + + The Kings are standing round his body. + +FINTAIN. + + Did he fight long? + +CUCHULLAIN. + + He thought to have saved himself with witchcraft. + +BARACH. + + That blind man there said he would kill you. He came from Aoife's + country to kill you. That blind man said they had taught him every + kind of weapon that he might do it. But I always knew that you would + kill him. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + (To the blind man.) You knew him, then? + +FINTAIN. + + I saw him when I had my eyes, in Aoife's country. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + You were in Aoife's country? + +FINTAIN. + + I knew him and his mother there. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + He was about to speak of her when he died. + +FINTAIN. + + He was a Queen's son. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + What Queen, what Queen? (He seizes the blind man.) + Was it Scathach? There were many Queens. + All the rulers there were Queens. + +FINTAIN. + + No, not Scathach. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + It was Uathach then. Speak, speak! + +FINTAIN. + + I cannot speak, you are clutching me too tightly. (Cuchullain lets him + go.) I cannot remember who it was. I am not certain. It was some + Queen. + +BARACH. + + He said a while ago that the young man was Aoife's son. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + She? No, no, she had no son when I was there. + +BARACH. + + That blind man there said that she owned him for her son. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + I had rather he had been some other woman's son. What father had he? A + soldier out of Alba? She was an amorous woman, a proud pale amorous + woman. + +FINTAIN. + + None knew whose son he was. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + None knew? Did you know, old listener at doors? + +FINTAIN. + + No, no, I knew nothing. + +BARACH. + + He said a while ago that he heard Aoife boast that she'd never but + the one lover, and he the only man that had overcome her in battle. (A + pause.) + +FINTAIN. + + Somebody is trembling. Why are you trembling, fool? the bench is + shaking, why are you trembling? Is Cuchullain going to hurt us? It was + not I who told you, Cuchullain. + +BARACH. + + It is Cuchullain who is trembling. He is shaking the bench with his + knees. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + He was my son, and I have killed my son. (A pause.) + 'Twas they that did it, the pale windy people, + Where, where, where? My sword against the thunder. + But no, for they have always been my friends; + And though they love to blow a smoking coal + Till it's all flame, the wars they blow aflame + Are full of glory, and heart uplifting pride, + And not like this; the wars they love awaken + Old fingers and the sleepy strings of harps. + Who did it then? Are you afraid; speak out, + For I have put you under my protection + And will reward you well. Dubthach the Chafer. + He had an old grudge. No, for he is with Maeve. + Laegaire did it. Why do you not speak? + What is this house? (A pause.) Now I remember all. + +FINTAIN. + + He will kill us. O, I am afraid! + +CUCHULLAIN. + + (Who is before Concobar's chair.) + + 'Twas you who did it, you who sat up there + With that old branch of silver, like a magpie + Nursing a stolen spoon. Magpie, Magpie, + A maggot that is eating up the earth! + + (Begins hacking at the chair with his sword.) + + No, but a magpie for he's flown away. + Where did he fly to? + +FINTAIN. + + He is outside the door. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + Outside the door? + +FINTAIN. + + He is under Baile's yew-tree. + +CUCHULLAIN. + + Concobar, Concobar, the sword into your heart. + + (He goes out. A pause. The fool goes to the great door at back and + looks out after him.) + +BARACH. + + He is going up to King Concobar; they are all under the tree. No, no, + he is standing still. There is a great wave going to break and he is + looking at it. Ah! now he is running down to the sea, but he is + holding up his sword as if he were going into a fight. (A pause.) Well + struck, well struck! + +FINTAIN. + + What is he doing now? + +BARACH. + + O! he is fighting the waves. + +FINTAIN. + + He sees King Concobar's crown on every one of them. + +BARACH. + + There, he has struck at a big one. He has struck the crown off it, he + has made the foam fly. There again another big one. (Shouting + without.) + +FINTAIN. + + Where are the Kings? What are the Kings doing? + +BARACH. + + They are shouting and running down to the shore, and the people are + running out of the houses, they are all running. + +FINTAIN. + + You say they are running out of the houses, there will be nobody left + in the houses. Listen, fool. + +BARACH. + + There, he is down! He is up again! He is going out into the deep water. + +FINTAIN. + + Come here, fool; come here, I say. + +BARACH. + + (Coming towards him but looking backward towards the door.) What is it? + +FINTAIN. + + There will be nobody in the houses. Come this way, come quickly; the + ovens will be full; we will put our hands into the ovens. (They go + out.) + + + + +ESSAYS, ETC. + +_By_ WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS + + + "Leader of one of the most notable contemporary movements--the Celtic + revival in Ireland, decidedly a force to be reckoned with both at the + present moment and in the future."--_Boston Transcript._ + + +THE CELTIC TWILIGHT + + With portrait and some new chapters. $1.50, _net_. + + "Subtle, elusive, keen with insight, and beautiful with the haunting + beauty of the aptly chosen word ... a veritable contribution to + literature."--_The New York Herald._ + + +IDEAS OF GOOD AND EVIL + + Cloth. 12mo. $1.50, _net_. + + "The best book of its kind that has appeared since Maeterlinck's + 'Buried Temple,' full of deep thought, of excellent criticism, and of + beautiful writing."--London letter to the _Chicago Evening Post_. + + +WHERE THERE IS NOTHING + + Vol. I. of "Plays for an Irish Theatre." Cloth. $1.25, _net_. 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