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+Project Gutenberg's The Wind Among the Reeds, by William Butler 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: The Wind Among the Reeds
+
+Author: William Butler Yeats
+
+Release Date: May 3, 2010 [EBook #32233]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIND AMONG THE REEDS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Meredith Bach and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The Wind Among the Reeds
+
+
+
+
+_The_ WIND AMONG
+THE REEDS
+
+_By_
+
+WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
+
+LONDON · ELKIN MATHEWS
+VIGO STREET · W · MDCCCCIII
+
+FOURTH EDITION.
+
+
+
+
+                                               PAGE
+
+THE HOSTING OF THE SIDHE                          1
+
+THE EVERLASTING VOICES                            3
+
+THE MOODS                                         4
+
+AEDH TELLS OF THE ROSE IN HIS HEART               5
+
+THE HOST OF THE AIR                               7
+
+BREASAL THE FISHERMAN                            10
+
+A CRADLE SONG                                    11
+
+INTO THE TWILIGHT                                13
+
+THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS                     15
+
+THE SONG OF THE OLD MOTHER                       17
+
+THE FIDDLER OF DOONEY                            18
+
+THE HEART OF THE WOMAN                           20
+
+AEDH LAMENTS THE LOSS OF LOVE                    21
+
+MONGAN LAMENTS THE CHANGE THAT HAS COME
+  UPON HIM AND HIS BELOVED                       22
+
+MICHAEL ROBARTES BIDS HIS BELOVED BE AT
+  PEACE                                          24
+
+HANRAHAN REPROVES THE CURLEW                     26
+
+MICHAEL ROBARTES REMEMBERS FORGOTTEN
+  BEAUTY                                         27
+
+A POET TO HIS BELOVED                            29
+
+AEDH GIVES HIS BELOVED CERTAIN RHYMES            30
+
+TO MY HEART, BIDDING IT HAVE NO FEAR             31
+
+THE CAP AND BELLS                                32
+
+THE VALLEY OF THE BLACK PIG                      35
+
+MICHAEL ROBARTES ASKS FORGIVENESS BECAUSE
+  OF HIS MANY MOODS                              37
+
+AEDH TELLS OF A VALLEY FULL OF LOVERS            40
+
+AEDH TELLS OF THE PERFECT BEAUTY                 42
+
+AEDH HEARS THE CRY OF THE SEDGE                  43
+
+AEDH THINKS OF THOSE WHO HAVE SPOKEN EVIL
+  OF HIS BELOVED                                 44
+
+THE BLESSED                                      45
+
+THE SECRET ROSE                                  47
+
+HANRAHAN LAMENTS BECAUSE OF HIS WANDERINGS       51
+
+THE TRAVAIL OF PASSION                           52
+
+THE POET PLEADS WITH HIS FRIEND FOR OLD
+  FRIENDS                                        54
+
+HANRAHAN SPEAKS TO THE LOVERS OF HIS SONGS
+  IN COMING DAYS                                 55
+
+AEDH PLEADS WITH THE ELEMENTAL POWERS            57
+
+AEDH WISHES HIS BELOVED WERE DEAD                59
+
+AEDH WISHES FOR THE CLOTHS OF HEAVEN             60
+
+MONGAN THINKS OF HIS PAST GREATNESS              61
+
+NOTES                                            65
+
+
+
+
+THE HOSTING OF THE SIDHE
+
+
+    The host is riding from Knocknarea
+    And over the grave of Clooth-na-bare;
+    Caolte tossing his burning hair
+    And Niamh calling _Away, come away:
+    Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
+    The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,
+    Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,
+    Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are a-gleam,
+    Our arms are waving, our lips are apart;
+    And if any gaze on our rushing band,
+    We come between him and the deed of his hand,
+    We come between him and the hope of his heart_.
+    The host is rushing 'twixt night and day,
+    And where is there hope or deed as fair?
+    Caolte tossing his burning hair,
+    And Niamh calling _Away, come away_.
+
+
+
+
+THE EVERLASTING VOICES
+
+
+    O sweet everlasting Voices be still;
+    Go to the guards of the heavenly fold
+    And bid them wander obeying your will
+    Flame under flame, till Time be no more;
+    Have you not heard that our hearts are old,
+    That you call in birds, in wind on the hill,
+    In shaken boughs, in tide on the shore?
+    O sweet everlasting Voices be still.
+
+
+
+
+THE MOODS
+
+
+    Time drops in decay,
+    Like a candle burnt out,
+    And the mountains and woods
+    Have their day, have their day;
+    What one in the rout
+    Of the fire-born moods,
+    Has fallen away?
+
+
+
+
+AEDH TELLS OF THE ROSE IN HIS HEART
+
+
+    All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old,
+    The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,
+    The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould,
+    Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
+
+    The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told;
+    I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart,
+    With the earth and the sky and the water, remade, like a casket of gold
+    For my dreams of your image that blossoms
+        a rose in the deeps of my heart.
+
+
+
+
+THE HOST OF THE AIR
+
+
+    O'Driscoll drove with a song,
+    The wild duck and the drake,
+    From the tall and the tufted reeds
+    Of the drear Hart Lake.
+
+    And he saw how the reeds grew dark
+    At the coming of night tide,
+    And dreamed of the long dim hair
+    Of Bridget his bride.
+
+    He heard while he sang and dreamed
+    A piper piping away,
+    And never was piping so sad,
+    And never was piping so gay.
+
+    And he saw young men and young girls
+    Who danced on a level place
+    And Bridget his bride among them,
+    With a sad and a gay face.
+
+    The dancers crowded about him,
+    And many a sweet thing said,
+    And a young man brought him red wine
+    And a young girl white bread.
+
+    But Bridget drew him by the sleeve,
+    Away from the merry bands,
+    To old men playing at cards
+    With a twinkling of ancient hands.
+
+    The bread and the wine had a doom,
+    For these were the host of the air;
+    He sat and played in a dream
+    Of her long dim hair.
+
+    He played with the merry old men
+    And thought not of evil chance,
+    Until one bore Bridget his bride
+    Away from the merry dance.
+
+    He bore her away in his arms,
+    The handsomest young man there,
+    And his neck and his breast and his arms
+    Were drowned in her long dim hair.
+
+    O'Driscoll scattered the cards
+    And out of his dream awoke:
+    Old men and young men and young girls
+    Were gone like a drifting smoke;
+
+    But he heard high up in the air
+    A piper piping away,
+    And never was piping so sad,
+    And never was piping so gay.
+
+
+
+
+BREASAL THE FISHERMAN
+
+
+    Although you hide in the ebb and flow
+    Of the pale tide when the moon has set,
+    The people of coming days will know
+    About the casting out of my net,
+    And how you have leaped times out of mind
+    Over the little silver cords,
+    And think that you were hard and unkind,
+    And blame you with many bitter words.
+
+
+
+
+A CRADLE SONG
+
+
+    The Danann children laugh, in cradles of wrought gold,
+    And clap their hands together, and half close their eyes,
+    For they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies,
+    With heavy whitening wings, and a heart fallen cold:
+    I kiss my wailing child and press it to my breast,
+    And hear the narrow graves calling my child and me.
+    Desolate winds that cry over the wandering sea;
+    Desolate winds that hover in the flaming West;
+    Desolate winds that beat the doors of Heaven, and beat
+    The doors of Hell and blow there many a whimpering ghost;
+    O heart the winds have shaken; the unappeasable host
+    Is comelier than candles before Maurya's feet.
+
+
+
+
+INTO THE TWILIGHT
+
+
+    Out-worn heart, in a time out-worn,
+    Come clear of the nets of wrong and right;
+    Laugh heart again in the gray twilight,
+    Sigh, heart, again in the dew of the morn.
+
+    Your mother Eire is always young,
+    Dew ever shining and twilight gray;
+    Though hope fall from you and love decay,
+    Burning in fires of a slanderous tongue.
+
+    Come, heart, where hill is heaped upon hill:
+    For there the mystical brotherhood
+    Of sun and moon and hollow and wood
+    And river and stream work out their will;
+    And God stands winding His lonely horn,
+    And time and the world are ever in flight;
+    And love is less kind than the gray twilight,
+    And hope is less dear than the dew of the morn.
+
+
+
+
+THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS
+
+
+    I went out to the hazel wood,
+    Because a fire was in my head,
+    And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
+    And hooked a berry to a thread;
+    And when white moths were on the wing,
+    And moth-like stars were flickering out,
+    I dropped the berry in a stream
+    And caught a little silver trout.
+
+    When I had laid it on the floor
+    I went to blow the fire a-flame,
+    But something rustled on the floor,
+    And someone called me by my name:
+    It had become a glimmering girl
+    With apple blossom in her hair
+    Who called me by my name and ran
+    And faded through the brightening air.
+
+    Though I am old with wandering
+    Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
+    I will find out where she has gone,
+    And kiss her lips and take her hands;
+    And walk among long dappled grass,
+    And pluck till time and times are done,
+    The silver apples of the moon,
+    The golden apples of the sun.
+
+
+
+
+THE SONG OF THE OLD MOTHER
+
+
+    I rise in the dawn, and I kneel and blow
+    Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow;
+    And then I must scrub and bake and sweep
+    Till stars are beginning to blink and peep;
+    And the young lie long and dream in their bed
+    Of the matching of ribbons for bosom and head,
+    And their day goes over in idleness,
+    And they sigh if the wind but lift a tress:
+    While I must work because I am old,
+    And the seed of the fire gets feeble and cold.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIDDLER OF DOONEY
+
+
+    When I play on my fiddle in Dooney,
+    Folk dance like a wave of the sea;
+    My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet,
+    My brother in Moharabuiee.
+
+    I passed my brother and cousin:
+    They read in their books of prayer;
+    I read in my book of songs
+    I bought at the Sligo fair.
+
+    When we come at the end of time,
+    To Peter sitting in state,
+    He will smile on the three old spirits,
+    But call me first through the gate;
+
+    For the good are always the merry,
+    Save by an evil chance,
+    And the merry love the fiddle
+    And the merry love to dance:
+
+    And when the folk there spy me,
+    They will all come up to me,
+    With 'Here is the fiddler of Dooney!'
+    And dance like a wave of the sea.
+
+
+
+
+THE HEART OF THE WOMAN
+
+
+    O what to me the little room
+    That was brimmed up with prayer and rest;
+    He bade me out into the gloom,
+    And my breast lies upon his breast.
+
+    O what to me my mother's care,
+    The house where I was safe and warm;
+    The shadowy blossom of my hair
+    Will hide us from the bitter storm.
+
+    O hiding hair and dewy eyes,
+    I am no more with life and death,
+    My heart upon his warm heart lies,
+    My breath is mixed into his breath.
+
+
+
+
+AEDH LAMENTS THE LOSS OF LOVE
+
+
+    Pale brows, still hands and dim hair,
+    I had a beautiful friend
+    And dreamed that the old despair
+    Would end in love in the end:
+    She looked in my heart one day
+    And saw your image was there;
+    She has gone weeping away.
+
+
+
+
+MONGAN LAMENTS THE CHANGE THAT HAS COME UPON HIM AND HIS BELOVED
+
+
+    Do you not hear me calling, white deer with no horns!
+    I have been changed to a hound with one red ear;
+    I have been in the Path of Stones and the Wood of Thorns,
+    For somebody hid hatred and hope and desire and fear
+    Under my feet that they follow you night and day.
+    A man with a hazel wand came without sound;
+    He changed me suddenly; I was looking another way;
+    And now my calling is but the calling of a hound;
+    And Time and Birth and Change are hurrying by.
+    I would that the boar without bristles had come from the West
+    And had rooted the sun and moon and stars out of the sky
+    And lay in the darkness, grunting, and turning to his rest.
+
+
+
+
+MICHAEL ROBARTES BIDS HIS BELOVED BE AT PEACE
+
+
+    I hear the Shadowy Horses, their long manes a-shake,
+    Their hoofs heavy with tumult, their eyes glimmering white;
+    The North unfolds above them clinging, creeping night,
+    The East her hidden joy before the morning break,
+    The West weeps in pale dew and sighs passing away,
+    The South is pouring down roses of crimson fire:
+    O vanity of Sleep, Hope, Dream, endless Desire,
+    The Horses of Disaster plunge in the heavy clay:
+    Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat
+    Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast,
+    Drowning love's lonely hour in deep twilight of rest,
+    And hiding their tossing manes and their tumultuous feet.
+
+
+
+
+HANRAHAN REPROVES THE CURLEW
+
+
+    O, curlew, cry no more in the air,
+    Or only to the waters in the West;
+    Because your crying brings to my mind
+    Passion-dimmed eyes and long heavy hair
+    That was shaken out over my breast:
+    There is enough evil in the crying of wind.
+
+
+
+
+MICHAEL ROBARTES REMEMBERS FORGOTTEN BEAUTY
+
+
+    When my arms wrap you round I press
+    My heart upon the loveliness
+    That has long faded from the world;
+    The jewelled crowns that kings have hurled
+    In shadowy pools, when armies fled;
+    The love-tales wove with silken thread
+    By dreaming ladies upon cloth
+    That has made fat the murderous moth;
+    The roses that of old time were
+    Woven by ladies in their hair,
+    The dew-cold lilies ladies bore
+    Through many a sacred corridor
+    Where such gray clouds of incense rose
+    That only the gods' eyes did not close:
+    For that pale breast and lingering hand
+    Come from a more dream-heavy land,
+    A more dream-heavy hour than this;
+    And when you sigh from kiss to kiss
+    I hear white Beauty sighing, too,
+    For hours when all must fade like dew
+    But flame on flame, deep under deep,
+    Throne over throne, where in half sleep
+    Their swords upon their iron knees
+    Brood her high lonely mysteries.
+
+
+
+
+A POET TO HIS BELOVED
+
+
+    I bring you with reverent hands
+    The books of my numberless dreams;
+    White woman that passion has worn
+    As the tide wears the dove-gray sands,
+    And with heart more old than the horn
+    That is brimmed from the pale fire of time:
+    White woman with numberless dreams
+    I bring you my passionate rhyme.
+
+
+
+
+AEDH GIVES HIS BELOVED CERTAIN RHYMES
+
+
+    Fasten your hair with a golden pin,
+    And bind up every wandering tress;
+    I bade my heart build these poor rhymes:
+    It worked at them, day out, day in,
+    Building a sorrowful loveliness
+    Out of the battles of old times.
+
+    You need but lift a pearl-pale hand,
+    And bind up your long hair and sigh;
+    And all men's hearts must burn and beat;
+    And candle-like foam on the dim sand,
+    And stars climbing the dew-dropping sky,
+    Live but to light your passing feet.
+
+
+
+
+TO MY HEART, BIDDING IT HAVE NO FEAR
+
+
+    Be you still, be you still, trembling heart;
+    Remember the wisdom out of the old days:
+    _Him who trembles before the flame and the flood,
+    And the winds that blow through the starry ways,
+    Let the starry winds and the flame and the flood
+    Cover over and hide, for he has no part
+    With the proud, majestical multitude._
+
+
+
+
+THE CAP AND BELLS
+
+
+    The jester walked in the garden:
+    The garden had fallen still;
+    He bade his soul rise upward
+    And stand on her window-sill.
+
+    It rose in a straight blue garment,
+    When owls began to call:
+    It had grown wise-tongued by thinking
+    Of a quiet and light footfall;
+
+    But the young queen would not listen;
+    She rose in her pale night gown;
+    She drew in the heavy casement
+    And pushed the latches down.
+
+    He bade his heart go to her,
+    When the owls called out no more;
+    In a red and quivering garment
+    It sang to her through the door.
+
+    It had grown sweet-tongued by dreaming,
+    Of a flutter of flower-like hair;
+    But she took up her fan from the table
+    And waved it off on the air.
+
+    'I have cap and bells,' he pondered,
+    'I will send them to her and die;'
+    And when the morning whitened
+    He left them where she went by.
+
+    She laid them upon her bosom,
+    Under a cloud of her hair,
+    And her red lips sang them a love song:
+    Till stars grew out of the air.
+
+    She opened her door and her window,
+    And the heart and the soul came through,
+    To her right hand came the red one,
+    To her left hand came the blue.
+
+    They set up a noise like crickets,
+    A chattering wise and sweet,
+    And her hair was a folded flower
+    And the quiet of love in her feet.
+
+
+
+
+THE VALLEY OF THE BLACK PIG
+
+
+    The dews drop slowly and dreams gather: unknown spears
+    Suddenly hurtle before my dream-awakened eyes,
+    And then the clash of fallen horsemen and the cries
+    Of unknown perishing armies beat about my ears.
+    We who still labour by the cromlec on the shore,
+    The grey cairn on the hill, when day sinks drowned in dew,
+    Being weary of the world's empires, bow down to you
+    Master of the still stars and of the flaming door.
+
+
+
+
+MICHAEL ROBARTES ASKS FORGIVENESS BECAUSE OF HIS MANY MOODS
+
+
+    If this importunate heart trouble your peace
+    With words lighter than air,
+    Or hopes that in mere hoping flicker and cease;
+    Crumple the rose in your hair;
+    And cover your lips with odorous twilight and say,
+    'O Hearts of wind-blown flame!
+    'O Winds, elder than changing of night and day,
+    'That murmuring and longing came,
+    'From marble cities loud with tabors of old
+    'In dove-gray faery lands;
+    'From battle banners fold upon purple fold,
+    'Queens wrought with glimmering hands;
+    'That saw young Niamh hover with love-lorn face
+    'Above the wandering tide;
+    'And lingered in the hidden desolate place,
+    'Where the last Phoenix died
+    'And wrapped the flames above his holy head;
+    'And still murmur and long:
+    'O Piteous Hearts, changing till change be dead
+    'In a tumultuous song:'
+    And cover the pale blossoms of your breast
+    With your dim heavy hair,
+    And trouble with a sigh for all things longing for rest
+    The odorous twilight there.
+
+
+
+
+AEDH TELLS OF A VALLEY FULL OF LOVERS
+
+
+    I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs,
+    For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood;
+    And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood
+    With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes:
+    I cried in my dream '_O women bid the young men lay
+    'Their heads on your knees, and drown their eyes with your hair,
+    'Or remembering hers they will find no other face fair
+    'Till all the valleys of the world have been withered away._'
+
+
+
+
+AEDH TELLS OF THE PERFECT BEAUTY
+
+
+    O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes
+    The poets labouring all their days
+    To build a perfect beauty in rhyme
+    Are overthrown by a woman's gaze
+    And by the unlabouring brood of the skies:
+    And therefore my heart will bow, when dew
+    Is dropping sleep, until God burn time,
+    Before the unlabouring stars and you.
+
+
+
+
+AEDH HEARS THE CRY OF THE SEDGE
+
+
+    I wander by the edge
+    Of this desolate lake
+    Where wind cries in the sedge
+    _Until the axle break
+    That keeps the stars in their round
+    And hands hurl in the deep
+    The banners of East and West
+    And the girdle of light is unbound,
+    Your breast will not lie by the breast
+    Of your beloved in sleep_.
+
+
+
+
+AEDH THINKS OF THOSE WHO HAVE SPOKEN EVIL OF HIS BELOVED
+
+
+    Half close your eyelids, loosen your hair,
+    And dream about the great and their pride;
+    They have spoken against you everywhere,
+    But weigh this song with the great and their pride;
+    I made it out of a mouthful of air,
+    Their children's children shall say they have lied.
+
+
+
+
+THE BLESSED
+
+
+    Cumhal called out, bending his head,
+    Till Dathi came and stood,
+    With a blink in his eyes at the cave mouth,
+    Between the wind and the wood.
+
+    And Cumhal said, bending his knees,
+    'I have come by the windy way
+    'To gather the half of your blessedness
+    'And learn to pray when you pray.
+
+    'I can bring you salmon out of the streams
+    'And heron out of the skies.'
+    But Dathi folded his hands and smiled
+    With the secrets of God in his eyes.
+
+    And Cumhal saw like a drifting smoke
+    All manner of blessed souls,
+    Women and children, young men with books,
+    And old men with croziers and stoles.
+
+    'Praise God and God's mother,' Dathi said,
+    'For God and God's mother have sent
+    'The blessedest souls that walk in the world
+    'To fill your heart with content.'
+
+    'And which is the blessedest,' Cumhal said,
+    'Where all are comely and good?
+    'Is it these that with golden thuribles
+    'Are singing about the wood?'
+
+    'My eyes are blinking,' Dathi said,
+    'With the secrets of God half blind,
+    'But I can see where the wind goes
+    'And follow the way of the wind;
+
+    'And blessedness goes where the wind goes,
+    'And when it is gone we are dead;
+    'I see the blessedest soul in the world
+    'And he nods a drunken head.
+
+    'O blessedness comes in the night and the day
+    'And whither the wise heart knows;
+    'And one has seen in the redness of wine
+    'The Incorruptible Rose,
+
+    'That drowsily drops faint leaves on him
+    'And the sweetness of desire,
+    'While time and the world are ebbing away
+    'In twilights of dew and of fire.'
+
+
+
+
+THE SECRET ROSE
+
+
+    Far off, most secret, and inviolate Rose,
+    Enfold me in my hour of hours; where those
+    Who sought thee in the Holy Sepulchre,
+    Or in the wine vat, dwell beyond the stir
+    And tumult of defeated dreams; and deep
+    Among pale eyelids, heavy with the sleep
+    Men have named beauty. Thy great leaves enfold
+    The ancient beards, the helms of ruby and gold
+    Of the crowned Magi; and the king whose eyes
+    Saw the Pierced Hands and Rood of elder rise
+    In druid vapour and make the torches dim;
+    Till vain frenzy awoke and he died; and him
+    Who met Fand walking among flaming dew
+    By a gray shore where the wind never blew,
+    And lost the world and Emer for a kiss;
+    And him who drove the gods out of their liss,
+    And till a hundred morns had flowered red,
+    Feasted and wept the barrows of his dead;
+    And the proud dreaming king who flung the crown
+    And sorrow away, and calling bard and clown
+    Dwelt among wine-stained wanderers in deep woods;
+    And him who sold tillage, and house, and goods,
+    And sought through lands and islands numberless years,
+    Until he found with laughter and with tears,
+    A woman, of so shining loveliness,
+    That men threshed corn at midnight by a tress,
+    A little stolen tress. I, too, await
+    The hour of thy great wind of love and hate.
+    When shall the stars be blown about the sky,
+    Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die?
+    Surely thine hour has come, thy great wind blows,
+    Far off, most secret, and inviolate Rose?
+
+
+
+
+HANRAHAN LAMENTS BECAUSE OF HIS WANDERINGS
+
+
+    O where is our Mother of Peace
+    Nodding her purple hood?
+    For the winds that awakened the stars
+    Are blowing through my blood.
+    I would that the death-pale deer
+    Had come through the mountain side,
+    And trampled the mountain away,
+    And drunk up the murmuring tide;
+    For the winds that awakened the stars
+    Are blowing through my blood,
+    And our Mother of Peace has forgot me
+    Under her purple hood.
+
+
+
+
+THE TRAVAIL OF PASSION
+
+
+    When the flaming lute-thronged angelic door is wide;
+    When an immortal passion breathes in mortal clay;
+    Our hearts endure the scourge, the plaited thorns, the way
+    Crowded with bitter faces, the wounds in palm and side,
+    The hyssop-heavy sponge, the flowers by Kidron stream:
+    We will bend down and loosen our hair over you,
+    That it may drop faint perfume, and be heavy with dew,
+    Lilies of death-pale hope, roses of passionate dream.
+
+
+
+
+THE POET PLEADS WITH HIS FRIEND FOR OLD FRIENDS
+
+
+    Though you are in your shining days,
+    Voices among the crowd
+    And new friends busy with your praise,
+    Be not unkind or proud,
+    But think about old friends the most:
+    Time's bitter flood will rise,
+    Your beauty perish and be lost
+    For all eyes but these eyes.
+
+
+
+
+HANRAHAN SPEAKS TO THE LOVERS OF HIS SONGS IN COMING DAYS
+
+
+    O, colleens, kneeling by your altar rails long hence,
+    When songs I wove for my beloved hide the prayer,
+    And smoke from this dead heart drifts through the violet air
+    And covers away the smoke of myrrh and frankincense;
+    Bend down and pray for the great sin I wove in song,
+    Till Maurya of the wounded heart cry a sweet cry,
+    And call to my beloved and me: 'No longer fly
+    'Amid the hovering, piteous, penitential throng.'
+
+
+
+
+AEDH PLEADS WITH THE ELEMENTAL POWERS
+
+
+    The Powers whose name and shape no living creature knows
+    Have pulled the Immortal Rose;
+    And though the Seven Lights bowed in their dance and wept,
+    The Polar Dragon slept,
+    His heavy rings uncoiled from glimmering deep to deep:
+    When will he wake from sleep?
+
+    Great Powers of falling wave and wind and windy fire,
+    With your harmonious choir
+    Encircle her I love and sing her into peace,
+    That my old care may cease;
+    Unfold your flaming wings and cover out of sight
+    The nets of day and night.
+
+    Dim Powers of drowsy thought, let her no longer be
+    Like the pale cup of the sea,
+    When winds have gathered and sun and moon burned dim
+    Above its cloudy rim;
+    But let a gentle silence wrought with music flow
+    Whither her footsteps go.
+
+
+
+
+AEDH WISHES HIS BELOVED WERE DEAD
+
+
+    Were you but lying cold and dead,
+    And lights were paling out of the West,
+    You would come hither, and bend your head,
+    And I would lay my head on your breast;
+    And you would murmur tender words,
+    Forgiving me, because you were dead:
+    Nor would you rise and hasten away,
+    Though you have the will of the wild birds,
+    But know your hair was bound and wound
+    About the stars and moon and sun:
+    O would beloved that you lay
+    Under the dock-leaves in the ground,
+    While lights were paling one by one.
+
+
+
+
+AEDH WISHES FOR THE CLOTHS OF HEAVEN
+
+
+    Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
+    Enwrought with golden and silver light,
+    The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
+    Of night and light and the half light,
+    I would spread the cloths under your feet:
+    But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
+    I have spread my dreams under your feet;
+    Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
+
+
+
+
+MONGAN THINKS OF HIS PAST GREATNESS
+
+
+    I have drunk ale from the Country of the Young
+    And weep because I know all things now:
+    I have been a hazel tree and they hung
+    The Pilot Star and the Crooked Plough
+    Among my leaves in times out of mind:
+    I became a rush that horses tread:
+    I became a man, a hater of the wind,
+    Knowing one, out of all things, alone, that his head
+    Would not lie on the breast or his lips on the hair
+    Of the woman that he loves, until he dies;
+    Although the rushes and the fowl of the air
+    Cry of his love with their pitiful cries.
+
+
+
+
+NOTES
+
+
+THE HOSTING OF THE SIDHE.
+
+The powerful and wealthy called the gods of ancient Ireland the Tuatha
+De Danaan, or the Tribes of the goddess Danu, but the poor called them,
+and still sometimes call them, the Sidhe, from Aes Sidhe or Sluagh
+Sidhe, the people of the Faery Hills, as these words are usually
+explained. Sidhe is also Gaelic for wind, and certainly the Sidhe have
+much to do with the wind. They journey in whirling winds, the winds that
+were called the dance of the daughters of Herodias in the Middle Ages,
+Herodias doubtless taking the place of some old goddess. When the
+country people see the leaves whirling on the road they bless
+themselves, because they believe the Sidhe to be passing by. They are
+almost always said to wear no covering upon their heads, and to let
+their hair stream out; and the great among them, for they have great and
+simple, go much upon horseback. If any one becomes too much interested
+in them, and sees them over much, he loses all interest in ordinary
+things. I shall write a great deal elsewhere about such enchanted
+persons, and can give but an example or two now.
+
+A woman near Gort, in Galway, says: 'There is a boy, now, of the
+Cloran's; but I wouldn't for the world let them think I spoke of him;
+it's two years since he came from America, and since that time he never
+went to Mass, or to church, or to fairs, or to market, or to stand on
+the cross roads, or to hurling, or to nothing. And if any one comes into
+the house, it's into the room he'll slip, not to see them; and as to
+work, he has the garden dug to bits, and the whole place smeared with
+cow dung; and such a crop as was never seen; and the alders all plaited
+till they look grand. One day he went as far as the chapel; but as soon
+as he got to the door he turned straight round again, as if he hadn't
+power to pass it. I wonder he wouldn't get the priest to read a Mass for
+him, or something; but the crop he has is grand, and you may know well
+he has some to help him.' One hears many stories of the kind; and a man
+whose son is believed to go out riding among them at night tells me that
+he is careless about everything, and lies in bed until it is late in the
+day. A doctor believes this boy to be mad. Those that are at times
+'away,' as it is called, know all things, but are afraid to speak. A
+countryman at Kiltartan says, 'There was one of the Lydons--John--was
+away for seven years, lying in his bed, but brought away at nights, and
+he knew everything; and one, Kearney, up in the mountains, a cousin of
+his own, lost two hoggets, and came and told him, and he knew the very
+spot where they were, and told him, and he got them back again. But
+_they_ were vexed at that, and took away the power, so that he never
+knew anything again, no more than another.' This wisdom is the wisdom of
+the fools of the Celtic stories, that was above all the wisdom of the
+wise. Lomna, the fool of Fiann, had so great wisdom that his head, cut
+from his body, was still able to sing and prophesy; and a writer in the
+'Encyclopędia Britannica' writes that Tristram, in the oldest form of
+the tale of Tristram and Iseult, drank wisdom, and madness the shadow of
+wisdom, and not love, out of the magic cup.
+
+The great of the old times are among the Tribes of Danu, and are kings
+and queens among them. Caolte was a companion of Fiann; and years after
+his death he appeared to a king in a forest, and was a flaming man, that
+he might lead him in the darkness. When the king asked him who he was,
+he said, 'I am your candlestick.' I do not remember where I have read
+this story, and I have, maybe, half forgotten it. Niam was a beautiful
+woman of the Tribes of Danu, that led Oisin to the Country of the Young,
+as their country is called; I have written about her in 'The Wandering
+of Usheen;' and he came back, at last, to bitterness and weariness.
+
+Knocknarea is in Sligo, and the country people say that Maeve, still a
+great queen of the western Sidhe, is buried in the cairn of stones upon
+it. I have written of Clooth-na-Bare in 'The Celtic Twilight.' She 'went
+all over the world, seeking a lake deep enough to drown her faery life,
+of which she had grown weary, leaping from hill to hill, and setting up
+a cairn of stones wherever her feet lighted, until, at last, she found
+the deepest water in the world in little Lough Ia, on the top of the
+bird mountain, in Sligo.' I forget, now, where I heard this story, but
+it may have been from a priest at Collooney. Clooth-na-Bare would mean
+the old woman of Bare, but is evidently a corruption of Cailleac Bare,
+the old woman Bare, who, under the names Bare, and Berah, and Beri, and
+Verah, and Dera, and Dhira, appears in the legends of many places. Mr.
+O'Grady found her haunting Lough Liath high up on the top of a mountain
+of the Fews, the Slieve Fuadh, or Slieve G-Cullain of old times, under
+the name of the Cailleac Buillia. He describes Lough Liath as a desolate
+moon-shaped lake, with made wells and sunken passages upon its borders,
+and beset by marsh and heather and gray boulders, and closes his
+'Flight of the Eagle' with a long rhapsody upon mountain and lake,
+because of the heroic tales and beautiful old myths that have hung about
+them always. He identifies the Cailleac Buillia with that Meluchra who
+persuaded Fionn to go to her amid the waters of Lough Liath, and so
+changed him with her enchantments, that, though she had to free him
+because of the threats of the Fiana, his hair was ever afterwards as
+white as snow. To this day the Tribes of the Goddess Danu that are in
+the waters beckon to men, and drown them in the waters; and Bare, or
+Dhira, or Meluchra, or whatever name one likes the best, is, doubtless,
+the name of a mistress among them. Meluchra was daughter of Cullain; and
+Cullain Mr. O'Grady calls, upon I know not what authority, a form of
+Lir, the master of waters. The people of the waters have been in all
+ages beautiful and changeable and lascivious, or beautiful and wise and
+lonely, for water is everywhere the signature of the fruitfulness of the
+body and of the fruitfulness of dreams. The white hair of Fionn may be
+but another of the troubles of those that come to unearthly wisdom and
+earthly trouble, and the threats and violence of the Fiana against her,
+a different form of the threats and violence the country people use, to
+make the Tribes of Danu give up those that are 'away.' Bare is now often
+called an ugly old woman; but Dr. Joyce says that one of her old names
+was Aebhin, which means beautiful. Aebhen was the goddess of the tribes
+of northern Leinster; and the lover she had made immortal, and who loved
+her perfectly, left her, and put on mortality, to fight among them
+against the stranger, and died on the strand of Clontarf.
+
+
+'AEDH,' 'HANRAHAN' AND 'MICHAEL ROBARTES' IN THESE POEMS.
+
+These are personages in 'The Secret Rose;' but, with the exception of
+some of Hanrahan's and one of Aedh's poems, the poems are not out of
+that book. I have used them in this book more as principles of the mind
+than as actual personages. It is probable that only students of the
+magical tradition will understand me when I say that 'Michael Robartes'
+is fire reflected in water, and that Hanrahan is fire blown by the wind,
+and that Aedh, whose name is not merely the Irish form of Hugh, but the
+Irish for fire, is fire burning by itself. To put it in a different way,
+Hanrahan is the simplicity of an imagination too changeable to gather
+permanent possessions, or the adoration of the shepherds; and Michael
+Robartes is the pride of the imagination brooding upon the greatness of
+its possessions, or the adoration of the Magi; while Aedh is the myrrh
+and frankincense that the imagination offers continually before all that
+it loves.
+
+
+AEDH PLEADS WITH THE ELEMENTAL POWERS.
+
+MONGAN THINKS OF HIS PAST GREATNESS.
+
+AEDH HEARS THE CRY OF THE SEDGE.
+
+The Rose has been for many centuries a symbol of spiritual love and
+supreme beauty. The Count Goblet D'Alviella thinks that it was once a
+symbol of the sun,--itself a principal symbol of the divine nature, and
+the symbolic heart of things. The lotus was in some Eastern countries
+imagined blossoming upon the Tree of Life, as the Flower of Life, and is
+thus represented in Assyrian bas-reliefs. Because the Rose, the flower
+sacred to the Virgin Mary, and the flower that Apuleius' adventurer ate,
+when he was changed out of the ass's shape and received into the
+fellowship of Isis, is the western Flower of Life, I have imagined it
+growing upon the Tree of Life. I once stood beside a man in Ireland when
+he saw it growing there in a vision, that seemed to have rapt him out of
+his body. He saw the garden of Eden walled about, and on the top of a
+high mountain, as in certain medięval diagrams, and after passing the
+Tree of Knowledge, on which grew fruit full of troubled faces, and
+through whose branches flowed, he was told, sap that was human souls, he
+came to a tall, dark tree, with little bitter fruits, and was shown a
+kind of stair or ladder going up through the tree, and told to go up;
+and near the top of the tree, a beautiful woman, like the Goddess of
+Life associated with the tree in Assyria, gave him a rose that seemed
+to have been growing upon the tree. One finds the Rose in the Irish
+poets, sometimes as a religious symbol, as in the phrase, 'the Rose of
+Friday,' meaning the Rose of austerity, in a Gaelic poem in Dr. Hyde's
+'Religious Songs of Connacht;' and, I think, as a symbol of woman's
+beauty in the Gaelic song, 'Roseen Dubh;' and a symbol of Ireland in
+Mangan's adaptation of 'Roseen Dubh,' 'My Dark Rosaleen,' and in Mr.
+Aubrey de Vere's 'The Little Black Rose.' I do not know any evidence to
+prove whether this symbol came to Ireland with medięval Christianity, or
+whether it has come down from Celtic times. I have read somewhere that a
+stone engraved with a Celtic god, who holds what looks like a rose in
+one hand, has been found somewhere in England; but I cannot find the
+reference, though I certainly made a note of it. If the Rose was really
+a symbol of Ireland among the Gaelic poets, and if 'Roseen Dubh' is
+really a political poem, as some think, one may feel pretty certain that
+the ancient Celts associated the Rose with Eire, or Fotla, or
+Banba--goddesses who gave their names to Ireland--or with some principal
+god or goddess, for such symbols are not suddenly adopted or invented,
+but come out of mythology.
+
+I have made the Seven Lights, the constellation of the Bear, lament for
+the theft of the Rose, and I have made the Dragon, the constellation
+Draco, the guardian of the Rose, because these constellations move about
+the pole of the heavens, the ancient Tree of Life in many countries, and
+are often associated with the Tree of Life in mythology. It is this Tree
+of Life that I have put into the 'Song of Mongan' under its common Irish
+form of a hazel; and, because it had sometimes the stars for fruit, I
+have hung upon it 'the Crooked Plough' and the 'Pilot' star, as
+Gaelic-speaking Irishmen sometimes call the Bear and the North star. I
+have made it an axle-tree in 'Aedh hears the Cry of the Sedge,' for this
+was another ancient way of representing it.
+
+
+THE HOST OF THE AIR.
+
+Some writers distinguish between the Sluagh Gaoith, the host of the air,
+and Sluagh Sidhe, the host of the Sidhe, and describe the host of the
+air as of a peculiar malignancy. Dr. Joyce says, 'of all the different
+kinds of goblins ... air demons were most dreaded by the people. They
+lived among clouds, and mists, and rocks, and hated the human race with
+the utmost malignity.' A very old Arann charm, which contains the words
+'Send God, by his strength, between us and the host of the Sidhe,
+between us and the host of the air,' seems also to distinguish among
+them. I am inclined, however, to think that the distinction came in with
+Christianity and its belief about the prince of the air, for the host of
+the Sidhe, as I have already explained, are closely associated with the
+wind.
+
+They are said to steal brides just after their marriage, and sometimes
+in a blast of wind. A man in Galway says, 'At Aughanish there were two
+couples came to the shore to be married, and one of the newly married
+women was in the boat with the priest, and they going back to the
+island; and a sudden blast of wind came, and the priest said some
+blessed words that were able to save himself, but the girl was swept.'
+
+This woman was drowned; but more often the persons who are taken 'get
+the touch,' as it is called, and fall into a half dream, and grow
+indifferent to all things, for their true life has gone out of the
+world, and is among the hills and the forts of the Sidhe. A faery doctor
+has told me that his wife 'got the touch' at her marriage because there
+was one of them wanted her; and the way he knew for certain was, that
+when he took a pitchfork out of the rafters, and told her it was a
+broom, she said, 'It is a broom.' She was, the truth is, in the magical
+sleep, to which people have given a new name lately, that makes the
+imagination so passive that it can be moulded by any voice in any world
+into any shape. A mere likeness of some old woman, or even old animal,
+some one or some thing the Sidhe have no longer a use for, is believed
+to be left instead of the person who is 'away;' this some one or some
+thing can, it is thought, be driven away by threats, or by violence
+(though I have heard country women say that violence is wrong), which
+perhaps awakes the soul out of the magical sleep. The story in the poem
+is founded on an old Gaelic ballad that was sung and translated for me
+by a woman at Ballisodare in County Sligo; but in the ballad the husband
+found the keeners keening his wife when he got to his house. She was
+'swept' at once; but the Sidhe are said to value those the most whom
+they but cast into a half dream, which may last for years, for they need
+the help of a living person in most of the things they do. There are
+many stories of people who seem to die and be buried--though the country
+people will tell you it is but some one or some thing put in their place
+that dies and is buried--and yet are brought back afterwards. These
+tales are perhaps memories of true awakenings out of the magical sleep,
+moulded by the imagination, under the influence of a mystical doctrine
+which it understands too literally, into the shape of some well-known
+traditional tale. One does not hear them as one hears the others, from
+the persons who are 'away,' or from their wives or husbands; and one old
+man, who had often seen the Sidhe, began one of them with 'Maybe it is
+all vanity.'
+
+Here is a tale that a friend of mine heard in the Burren hills, and it
+is a type of all:--
+
+'There was a girl to be married, and she didn't like the man, and she
+cried when the day was coming, and said she wouldn't go along with him.
+And the mother said, "Get into the bed, then, and I'll say that you're
+sick." And so she did. And when the man came the mother said to him,
+"You can't get her, she's sick in the bed." And he looked in and said,
+"That's not my wife that's in the bed, it's some old hag." And the
+mother began to cry and to roar. And he went out and got two hampers of
+turf, and made a fire, that they thought he was going to burn the house
+down. And when the fire was kindled, "Come out now," says he, "and we'll
+see who you are, when I'll put you on the fire." And when she heard
+that, she gave one leap, and was out of the house, and they saw, then,
+it was an old hag she was. Well, the man asked the advice of an old
+woman, and she bid him go to a faery-bush that was near, and he might
+get some word of her. So he went there at night, and saw all sorts of
+grand people, and they in carriages or riding on horses, and among them
+he could see the girl he came to look for. So he went again to the old
+woman, and she said, "If you can get the three bits of blackthorn out of
+her hair, you'll get her again." So that night he went again, and that
+time he only got hold of a bit of her hair. But the old woman told him
+that was no use, and that he was put back now, and it might be twelve
+nights before he'd get her. But on the fourth night he got the third bit
+of blackthorn, and he took her, and she came away with him. He never
+told the mother he had got her; but one day she saw her at a fair, and,
+says she, "That's my daughter; I know her by the smile and by the laugh
+of her," and she with a shawl about her head. So the husband said,
+"You're right there, and hard I worked to get her." She spoke often of
+the grand things she saw underground, and how she used to have wine to
+drink, and to drive out in a carriage with four horses every night. And
+she used to be able to see her husband when he came to look for her, and
+she was greatly afraid he'd get a drop of the wine, for then he would
+have come underground and never left it again. And she was glad herself
+to come to earth again, and not to be left there.'
+
+The old Gaelic literature is full of the appeals of the Tribes of the
+goddess Danu to mortals whom they would bring into their country; but
+the song of Midher to the beautiful Etain, the wife of the king who was
+called Echaid the ploughman, is the type of all.
+
+'O beautiful woman, come with me to the marvellous land where one
+listens to a sweet music, where one has spring flowers in one's hair,
+where the body is like snow from head to foot, where no one is sad or
+silent, where teeth are white and eyebrows are black ... cheeks red like
+foxglove in flower.... Ireland is beautiful, but not so beautiful as the
+Great Plain I call you to. The beer of Ireland is heady, but the beer of
+the Great Plain is much more heady. How marvellous is the country I am
+speaking of! Youth does not grow old there. Streams with warm flood flow
+there; sometimes mead, sometimes wine. Men are charming and without a
+blot there, and love is not forbidden there. O woman, when you come into
+my powerful country you will wear a crown of gold upon your head. I will
+give you the flesh of swine, and you will have beer and milk to drink, O
+beautiful woman. O beautiful woman, come with me!'
+
+
+A CRADLE SONG.
+
+MICHAEL ROBARTES ASKS FORGIVENESS BECAUSE OF HIS MANY MOODS.
+
+I use the wind as a symbol of vague desires and hopes, not merely
+because the Sidhe are in the wind, or because the wind bloweth as it
+listeth, but because wind and spirit and vague desire have been
+associated everywhere. A highland scholar tells me that his country
+people use the wind in their talk and in their proverbs as I use it in
+my poem.
+
+
+THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS.
+
+The Tribes of the goddess Danu can take all shapes, and those that are
+in the waters take often the shape of fish. A woman of Burren, in
+Galway, says, 'There are more of them in the sea than on the land, and
+they sometimes try to come over the side of the boat in the form of
+fishes, for they can take their choice shape.' At other times they are
+beautiful women; and another Galway woman says, 'Surely those things are
+in the sea as well as on land. My father was out fishing one night off
+Tyrone. And something came beside the boat that had eyes shining like
+candles. And then a wave came in, and a storm rose all in a minute, and
+whatever was in the wave, the weight of it had like to sink the boat.
+And then they saw that it was a woman in the sea that had the shining
+eyes. So my father went to the priest, and he bid him always to take a
+drop of holy water and a pinch of salt out in the boat with him, and
+nothing could harm him.'
+
+The poem was suggested to me by a Greek folk song; but the folk belief
+of Greece is very like that of Ireland, and I certainly thought, when I
+wrote it, of Ireland, and of the spirits that are in Ireland. An old man
+who was cutting a quickset hedge near Gort, in Galway, said, only the
+other day, 'One time I was cutting timber over in Inchy, and about eight
+o'clock one morning, when I got there, I saw a girl picking nuts, with
+her hair hanging down over her shoulders; brown hair; and she had a
+good, clean face, and she was tall, and nothing on her head, and her
+dress no way gaudy, but simple. And when she felt me coming she gathered
+herself up, and was gone, as if the earth had swallowed her up. And I
+followed her, and looked for her, but I never could see her again from
+that day to this, never again.'
+
+The county Galway people use the word 'clean' in its old sense of fresh
+and comely.
+
+
+MICHAEL ROBARTES BIDS HIS BELOVED BE AT PEACE.
+
+November, the old beginning of winter, or of the victory of the Fomor,
+or powers of death, and dismay, and cold, and darkness, is associated by
+the Irish people with the horse-shaped Pścas, who are now mischievous
+spirits, but were once Fomorian divinities. I think that they may have
+some connection with the horses of Mannannan, who reigned over the
+country of the dead, where the Fomorian Tethra reigned also; and the
+horses of Mannannan, though they could cross the land as easily as the
+sea, are constantly associated with the waves. Some neo-platonist, I
+forget who, describes the sea as a symbol of the drifting indefinite
+bitterness of life, and I believe there is like symbolism intended in
+the many Irish voyages to the islands of enchantment, or that there was,
+at any rate, in the mythology out of which these stories have been
+shaped. I follow much Irish and other mythology, and the magical
+tradition, in associating the North with night and sleep, and the East,
+the place of sunrise, with hope, and the South, the place of the sun
+when at its height, with passion and desire, and the West, the place of
+sunset, with fading and dreaming things.
+
+
+MONGAN LAMENTS THE CHANGE THAT HAS COME UPON HIM AND HIS BELOVED.
+
+HANRAHAN LAMENTS BECAUSE OF HIS WANDERINGS.
+
+My deer and hound are properly related to the deer and hound that
+flicker in and out of the various tellings of the Arthurian legends,
+leading different knights upon adventures, and to the hounds and to the
+hornless deer at the beginning of, I think, all tellings of Oisin's
+journey to the country of the young. The hound is certainly related to
+the Hounds of Annwvyn or of Hades, who are white, and have red ears, and
+were heard, and are, perhaps, still heard by Welsh peasants following
+some flying thing in the night winds; and is probably related to the
+hounds that Irish country people believe will awake and seize the souls
+of the dead if you lament them too loudly or too soon, and to the hound
+the son of Setanta killed, on what was certainly, in the first form of
+the tale, a visit to the Celtic Hades. An old woman told a friend and
+myself that she saw what she thought were white birds, flying over an
+enchanted place, but found, when she got near, that they had dog's
+heads; and I do not doubt that my hound and these dog-headed birds are
+of the same family. I got my hound and deer out of a last century Gaelic
+poem about Oisin's journey to the country of the young. After the
+hunting of the hornless deer, that leads him to the seashore, and while
+he is riding over the sea with Niam, he sees amid the waters--I have not
+the Gaelic poem by me, and describe it from memory--a young man
+following a girl who has a golden apple, and afterwards a hound with one
+red ear following a deer with no horns. This hound and this deer seem
+plain images of the desire of man 'which is for the woman,' and 'the
+desire of the woman which is for the desire of the man,' and of all
+desires that are as these. I have read them in this way in 'The
+Wanderings of Usheen' or Oisin, and have made my lover sigh because he
+has seen in their faces 'the immortal desire of immortals.' A solar
+mythologist would perhaps say that the girl with the golden apple was
+once the winter, or night, carrying the sun away, and the deer without
+horns, like the boar without bristles, darkness flying the light. He
+would certainly, I think, say that when Cuchullain, whom Professor Rhys
+calls a solar hero, hunted the enchanted deer of Slieve Fuadh, because
+the battle fury was still on him, he was the sun pursuing clouds, or
+cold, or darkness. I have understood them in this sense in 'Hanrahan
+laments because of his wandering,' and made Hanrahan long for the day
+when they, fragments of ancestral darkness, will overthrow the world.
+The desire of the woman, the flying darkness, it is all one! The
+image--a cross, a man preaching in the wilderness, a dancing Salome, a
+lily in a girl's hand, a flame leaping, a globe with wings, a pale
+sunset over still waters--is an eternal act; but our understandings are
+temporal and understand but a little at a time.
+
+The man in my poem who has a hazel wand may have been Aengus, Master of
+Love; and I have made the boar without bristles come out of the West,
+because the place of sunset was in Ireland, as in other countries, a
+place of symbolic darkness and death.
+
+
+THE CAP AND BELLS.
+
+I dreamed this story exactly as I have written it, and dreamed another
+long dream after it, trying to make out its meaning, and whether I was
+to write it in prose or verse. The first dream was more a vision than a
+dream, for it was beautiful and coherent, and gave me the sense of
+illumination and exaltation that one gets from visions, while the second
+dream was confused and meaningless. The poem has always meant a great
+deal to me, though, as is the way with symbolic poems, it has not always
+meant quite the same thing. Blake would have said 'the authors are in
+eternity,' and I am quite sure they can only be questioned in dreams.
+
+
+THE VALLEY OF THE BLACK PIG.
+
+All over Ireland there are prophecies of the coming rout of the enemies
+of Ireland, in a certain Valley of the Black Pig, and these prophecies
+are, no doubt, now, as they were in the Fenian days, a political force.
+I have heard of one man who would not give any money to the Land League,
+because the Battle could not be until the close of the century; but, as
+a rule, periods of trouble bring prophecies of its near coming. A few
+years before my time, an old man who lived at Lisadell, in Sligo, used
+to fall down in a fit and rave out descriptions of the Battle; and a man
+in Sligo has told me that it will be so great a battle that the horses
+shall go up to their fetlocks in blood, and that their girths, when it
+is over, will rot from their bellies for lack of a hand to unbuckle
+them. The battle is a mythological battle, and the black pig is one with
+the bristleless boar, that killed Dearmod, in November, upon the western
+end of Ben Bulben; Misroide MacDatha's sow, whose carving brought on so
+great a battle; 'the croppy black sow,' and 'the cutty black sow' of
+Welsh November rhymes ('Celtic Heathendom,' pages 509-516); the boar
+that killed Adonis; the boar that killed Attis; and the pig embodiment
+of Typhon ('Golden Bough,' II. pages 26, 31). The pig seems to have been
+originally a genius of the corn, and, seemingly because the too great
+power of their divinity makes divine things dangerous to mortals, its
+flesh was forbidden to many eastern nations; but as the meaning of the
+prohibition was forgotten, abhorrence took the place of reverence, pigs
+and boars grew into types of evil, and were described as the enemies of
+the very gods they once typified ('Golden Bough,' II. 26-31, 56-57). The
+Pig would, therefore, become the Black Pig, a type of cold and of winter
+that awake in November, the old beginning of winter, to do battle with
+the summer, and with the fruit and leaves, and finally, as I suggest;
+and as I believe, for the purposes of poetry; of the darkness that will
+at last destroy the gods and the world. The country people say there is
+no shape for a spirit to take so dangerous as the shape of a pig; and a
+Galway blacksmith--and blacksmiths are thought to be especially
+protected--says he would be afraid to meet a pig on the road at night;
+and another Galway man tells this story: 'There was a man coming the
+road from Gort to Garryland one night, and he had a drop taken; and
+before him, on the road, he saw a pig walking; and having a drop in, he
+gave a shout, and made a kick at it, and bid it get out of that. And by
+the time he got home, his arm was swelled from the shoulder to be as big
+as a bag, and he couldn't use his hand with the pain of it. And his wife
+brought him, after a few days, to a woman that used to do cures at
+Rahasane. And on the road all she could do would hardly keep him from
+lying down to sleep on the grass. And when they got to the woman she
+knew all that happened; and, says she, it's well for you that your wife
+didn't let you fall asleep on the grass, for if you had done that but
+even for one instant, you'd be a lost man.'
+
+It is possible that bristles were associated with fertility, as the tail
+certainly was, for a pig's tail is stuck into the ground in Courland,
+that the corn may grow abundantly, and the tails of pigs, and other
+animal embodiments of the corn genius, are dragged over the ground to
+make it fertile in different countries. Professor Rhys, who considers
+the bristleless boar a symbol of darkness and cold, rather than of
+winter and cold, thinks it was without bristles because the darkness is
+shorn away by the sun. It may have had different meanings, just as the
+scourging of the man-god has had different though not contradictory
+meanings in different epochs of the world.
+
+The Battle should, I believe, be compared with three other battles; a
+battle the Sidhe are said to fight when a person is being taken away by
+them; a battle they are said to fight in November for the harvest; the
+great battle the Tribes of the goddess Danu fought, according to the
+Gaelic chroniclers, with the Fomor at Moy Tura, or the Towery Plain.
+
+I have heard of the battle over the dying both in County Galway and in
+the Isles of Arann, an old Arann fisherman having told me that it was
+fought over two of his children, and that he found blood in a box he had
+for keeping fish, when it was over; and I have written about it, and
+given examples elsewhere. A faery doctor, on the borders of Galway and
+Clare, explained it as a battle between the friends and enemies of the
+dying, the one party trying to take them, the other trying to save them
+from being taken. It may once, when the land of the Sidhe was the only
+other world, and when every man who died was carried thither, have
+always accompanied death. I suggest that the battle between the Tribes
+of the goddess Danu, the powers of light, and warmth, and fruitfulness,
+and goodness, and the Fomor, the powers of darkness, and cold, and
+barrenness, and badness upon the Towery Plain, was the establishment of
+the habitable world, the rout of the ancestral darkness; that the battle
+among the Sidhe for the harvest is the annual battle of summer and
+winter; that the battle among the Sidhe at a man's death is the battle
+of life and death; and that the battle of the Black Pig is the battle
+between the manifest world and the ancestral darkness at the end of all
+things; and that all these battles are one, the battle of all things
+with shadowy decay. Once a symbolism has possessed the imagination of
+large numbers of men, it becomes, as I believe, an embodiment of
+disembodied powers, and repeats itself in dreams and visions, age after
+age.
+
+
+THE SECRET ROSE.
+
+I find that I have unintentionally changed the old story of Conchobar's
+death. He did not see the crucifixion in a vision, but was told about
+it. He had been struck by a ball, made of the dried brain of a dead
+enemy, and hurled out of a sling; and this ball had been left in his
+head, and his head had been mended, the Book of Leinster says, with
+thread of gold because his hair was like gold. Keating, a writer of the
+time of Elizabeth, says, 'In that state did he remain seven years, until
+the Friday on which Christ was crucified, according to some historians;
+and when he saw the unusual changes of the creation and the eclipse of
+the sun and the moon at its full, he asked of Bucrach, a Leinster
+Druid, who was along with him, what was it that brought that unusual
+change upon the planets of Heaven and Earth. "Jesus Christ, the son of
+God," said the Druid, "who is now being crucified by the Jews." "That is
+a pity," said Conchobar; "were I in his presence I would kill those who
+were putting him to death." And with that he brought out his sword, and
+rushed at a woody grove which was convenient to him, and began to cut
+and fell it; and what he said was, that if he were among the Jews that
+was the usage he would give them, and from the excessiveness of his fury
+which seized upon him, the ball started out of his head, and some of the
+brain came after it, and in that way he died. The wood of Lanshraigh, in
+Feara Rois, is the name by which that shrubby wood is called.'
+
+I have imagined Cuchullain meeting Fand 'walking among flaming dew.' The
+story of their love is one of the most beautiful of our old tales. Two
+birds, bound one to another with a chain of gold, came to a lake side
+where Cuchullain and the host of Uladh was encamped, and sang so sweetly
+that all the host fell into a magic sleep. Presently they took the shape
+of two beautiful women, and cast a magical weakness upon Cuchullain, in
+which he lay for a year. At the year's end an Aengus, who was probably
+Aengus the master of love, one of the greatest of the children of the
+goddess Danu, came and sat upon his bedside, and sang how Fand, the wife
+of Mannannan, the master of the sea, and of the islands of the dead,
+loved him; and that if he would come into the country of the gods, where
+there was wine and gold and silver, Fand, and Laban her sister, would
+heal him of his magical weakness. Cuchullain went to the country of the
+gods, and, after being for a month the lover of Fand, made her a
+promise to meet her at a place called 'the Yew at the Strand's End,' and
+came back to the earth. Emer, his mortal wife, won his love again, and
+Mannannan came to 'the Yew at the Strand's End,' and carried Fand away.
+When Cuchullain saw her going, his love for her fell upon him again, and
+he went mad, and wandered among the mountains without food or drink,
+until he was at last cured by a Druid drink of forgetfulness.
+
+I have founded the man 'who drove the gods out of their Liss,' or fort,
+upon something I have read about Caolte after the battle of Gabra, when
+almost all his companions were killed, driving the gods out of their
+Liss, either at Osraighe, now Ossory, or at Eas Ruaidh, now Asseroe, a
+waterfall at Ballyshannon, where Ilbreac, one of the children of the
+goddess Danu, had a Liss. I am writing away from most of my books, and
+have not been able to find the passage; but I certainly read it
+somewhere.
+
+I have founded 'the proud dreaming king' upon Fergus, the son of Roigh,
+the legendary poet of 'the quest of the bull of Cualge,' as he is in the
+ancient story of Deirdre, and in modern poems by Ferguson. He married
+Nessa, and Ferguson makes him tell how she took him 'captive in a single
+look.'
+
+    'I am but an empty shade,
+     Far from life and passion laid;
+     Yet does sweet remembrance thrill
+     All my shadowy being still.'
+
+Presently, because of his great love, he gave up his throne to
+Conchobar, her son by another, and lived out his days feasting, and
+fighting, and hunting. His promise never to refuse a feast from a
+certain comrade, and the mischief that came by his promise, and the
+vengeance he took afterwards, are a principal theme of the poets. I
+have explained my imagination of him in 'Fergus and the Druid,' and in a
+little song in the second act of 'The Countess Kathleen.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I have founded him 'who sold tillage, and house, and goods,' upon
+something in 'The Red Pony,' a folk tale in Mr. Larminie's 'West Irish
+Folk Tales.' A young man 'saw a light before him on the high road. When
+he came as far, there was an open box on the road, and a light coming up
+out of it. He took up the box. There was a lock of hair in it. Presently
+he had to go to become the servant of a king for his living. There were
+eleven boys. When they were going out into the stable at ten o'clock,
+each of them took a light but he. He took no candle at all with him.
+Each of them went into his own stable. When he went into his stable he
+opened the box. He left it in a hole in the wall. The light was great.
+It was twice as much as in the other stables.' The king hears of it, and
+makes him show him the box. The king says, 'You must go and bring me the
+woman to whom the hair belongs.' In the end, the young man, and not the
+king, marries the woman.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Wind Among the Reeds, by William Butler Yeats
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