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diff --git a/30652.txt b/30652.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a8c8665 --- /dev/null +++ b/30652.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2669 @@ +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: 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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