[Going over to the little shrine.] White Mary, Bring Shemus home out of the wicked woods; Save Shemus from the wolves; Shemus is daring; And save him from the demons of the woods, Who have crept out and wander on the roads, Deluding dim-eyed souls now newly dead, And those alive who have gone crazed with famine. Save him, White Mary Virgin. TEIG. And but now I thought I heard far-off tympans and harps. [Knocking at the door. MAIRE. Shemus has come. TEIG. May he bring better food Than the lean crow he brought us yesterday. [MAIRE opens the door, and SHEMUS comes in with a dead wolf on his shoulder. MAIRE. Shemus, you are late home: you have been lounging And chattering with some one: you know well How the dreams trouble me, and how I pray, Yet you lie sweating on the hill from morn, Or linger at the crossways with all comers, Telling or gathering up calamity. SHEMUS. You would rail my head off. Here is a good dinner. [He throws the wolf on the table. A wolf is better than a carrion crow. I searched all day: the mice and rats and hedgehogs Seemed to be dead, and I could hardly hear A wing moving in all the famished woods, Though the dead leaves and clauber of four forests Cling to my footsole. I turned home but now, And saw, sniffing the floor in a bare cow-house, This young wolf here: the crossbow brought him down. MAIRE. Praise be the saints![After a pause. Why did the house dog bay? SHEMUS. He heard me coming and smelt food—what else? TEIG. We will not starve awhile. SHEMUS. What food is within? TEIG. There is a bag half full of meal, a pan Half full of milk. SHEMUS. And we have one old hen. TEIG. The bogwood were less hard. MAIRE. Before you came She made a great noise in the hencoop, Shemus. What fluttered in the window? TEIG. Two horned owls Have blinked and fluttered on the window sill From when the dog began to bay. SHEMUS. Hush, hush. [He fits an arrow to the crossbow, and goes towards the door. A sudden burst of music without. They are off again: ladies or gentlemen Travel in the woods with tympan and with harp. Teig, put the wolf upon the biggest hook And shut the door. [TEIG goes into the cupboard with the wolf: returns and fastens the door behind him. And call up a whey face and a crying voice, And let your head be bowed upon your knees. [He opens the door of the cabin. Come in, your honours: a full score of evenings This threshold worn away by many a foot Has been passed only by the snails and birds And by our own poor hunger-shaken feet. [The COUNTESS CATHLEEN, ALEEL, who carries a small square harp, OONA, and a little group of fantastically dressed musicians come in. CATHLEEN. Are you so hungry? TEIG. [From beside the fire.] Lady, I fell but now, And lay upon the threshold like a log. I have not tasted a crust for these four days. [The COUNTESS CATHLEEN empties her purse on to the table. CATHLEEN. Had I more money I would give it you, And if you come to-morrow to my house You shall have twice the sum. I am the owner Of a long empty castle in these woods. MAIRE. Then you are Countess Cathleen: you and yours Are ever welcome under my poor thatch. Will you sit down and warm you by the sods? CATHLEEN. We must find out this castle in the wood Before the chill o’ the night. [The musicians begin to tune their instruments. Do not blame me, Good woman, for the tympan and the harp: I was bid fly the terror of the times And wrap me round with music and sweet song Or else pine to my grave. I have lost my way; Aleel, the poet, who should know these woods, Because we met him on their border but now Wandering and singing like the foam of the sea, Is so wrapped up in dreams of terrors to come That he can give no help. MAIRE. [Going to the door with her.] There is a trodden way among the hazels That brings your servants to their marketing. ALEEL. When we are gone draw to the door and the bolt, For, till we lost them half an hour ago, Two gray horned owls hooted above our heads Of terrors to come. Tympan and harp awake! For though the world drift from us like a sigh, Music is master of all under the moon; And play ‘The Wind that blows by Cummen Strand.’ [Music. [Sings.] Impetuous heart, be still, be still: Your sorrowful love may never be told; Cover it up with a lonely tune. He who could bend all things to His will Has covered the door of the infinite fold With the pale stars and the wandering moon. [While he is singing the COUNTESS CATHLEEN, OONA, and the musicians go out. ALEEL. For, till they had vanished in the thick of the leaves, Two gray horned owls hooted above our heads. [He goes out. MAIRE. [Bolting the door.] When wealthy and wise folk wander from their peace And fear wood things, poor folk may draw the bolt And pray before the fire. [SHEMUS counts out the money, and rings a piece upon the table. SHEMUS. The Mother of God, Hushed by the waving of the immortal wings, Has dropped in a doze and cannot hear the poor: I passed by Margaret Nolan’s; for nine days Her mouth was green with dock and dandelion; And now they wake her. MAIRE. I will go the next; Our parents’ cabins bordered the same field. SHEMUS. God, and the Mother of God, have dropped asleep, For they are weary of the prayers and candles; But Satan pours the famine from his bag, And I am mindful to go pray to him To cover all this table with red gold. Teig, will you dare me to it? TEIG. Not I, father. MAIRE. O Shemus, hush, maybe your mind might pray In spite o’ the mouth. SHEMUS. Two crowns and twenty pennies. MAIRE. Is yonder quicken wood? SHEMUS. [Picking the bough from the table.] He swayed about, And so I tied him to a quicken bough And slung him from my shoulder. MAIRE. [Taking the bough from him.] Shemus! Shemus! What, would you burn the blessed quicken wood? A spell to ward off demons and ill faeries. You know not what the owls were that peeped in, For evil wonders live in this old wood, And they can show in what shape please them best. And we have had no milk to leave of nights To keep our own good people kind to us. And Aleel, who has talked with the great Sidhe, Is full of terrors to come. [She lays the bough on a chair. SHEMUS. I would eat my supper With no less mirth if squatting by the hearth Were dulacaun or demon of the pit Clawing its knees, its hoof among the ashes. [He rings another piece of money. A sound of footsteps outside the door. MAIRE. I fear the wood things, Shemus. [A knock at the door. Do not open. SHEMUS. A crown and twenty pennies are not enough To stop the hole that lets the famine in. [The little shrine falls. MAIRE. Look! look! SHEMUS. [Crushing it underfoot.] The Mother of God has dropped asleep, And all her household things have gone to wrack. MAIRE. O Mary, Mother of God, be pitiful! [SHEMUS opens the door. TWO MERCHANTS stand without. They have bands of gold round their foreheads, and each carries a bag upon his shoulder. FIRST MERCHANT. Have you food here? SHEMUS. For those who can pay well. SECOND MERCHANT. We are rich merchants seeking merchandise. SHEMUS. Come in, your honours. MAIRE. No, do not come in: We have no food, not even for ourselves. FIRST MERCHANT. There is a wolf on the big hook in the cupboard. [They enter. SHEMUS. Forgive her: she is not used to quality, And is half crazed with being much alone. How did you know I had taken a young wolf? Fine wholesome food, though maybe somewhat strong. [The SECOND MERCHANT sits down by the fire and begins rubbing his hands. The FIRST MERCHANT stands looking at the quicken bough on the chair. FIRST MERCHANT. And my feet footsore going up and down From land to land and nation unto nation: The fire burns dimly; feed it with this bough. [SHEMUS throws the bough into the fire. The FIRST MERCHANT sits down on the chair. The MERCHANTS’ chairs are on each side of the fire. The table is between them. Each lays his bag before him on the table. The night has closed in somewhat, and the main light comes from the fire. MAIRE. What have you in the bags? SHEMUS. Don’t mind her, sir: Women grow curious and feather-thoughted Through being in each other’s company More than is good for them. FIRST MERCHANT. Our bags are full Of golden pieces to buy merchandise. [They pour gold pieces on to the table out of their bags. It is covered with the gold pieces. They shine in the firelight. MAIRE goes to the door of pantry, and watches the MERCHANTS, muttering to herself. TEIG. These are great gentlemen. FIRST MERCHANT. [Taking a stone bottle out of his bag.] Come to the fire, Here is the headiest wine you ever tasted. SECOND MERCHANT. Wine that can hush asleep the petty war Of good and evil, and awake instead A scented flame flickering above that peace The bird of prey knows well in his deep heart. SHEMUS. [Bringing drinking-cups.] I do not understand you, but your wine Sets me athirst: its praise made your eyes lighten. I am thirsting for it. FIRST MERCHANT. Ay, come drink and drink, I bless all mortals who drink long and deep. My curse upon the salt-strewn road of monks. [TEIG and SHEMUS sit down at the table and drink.] TEIG. You must have seen rare sights and done rare things. FIRST MERCHANT. What think you of the master whom we serve? SHEMUS. I have grown weary of my days in the world Because I do not serve him. FIRST MERCHANT. More of this When we have eaten, for we love right well A merry meal, a warm and leaping fire And easy hearts. SHEMUS. Come, Maire, and cook the wolf. MAIRE. I will not cook for you. SHEMUS. Maire is mad. [TEIG and SHEMUS stand up and stagger about. SHEMUS. That wine is the suddenest wine man ever tasted. MAIRE. I will not cook for you: you are not human: Before you came two horned owls looked at us; The dog bayed, and the tongue of Shemus maddened. When you came in the Virgin’s blessed shrine Fell from its nail, and when you sat down here You poured out wine as the wood sidheogs do When they’d entice a soul out of the world. Why did you come to us? Was not death near? FIRST MERCHANT. We are two merchants. MAIRE. If you be not demons, Go and give alms among the starving poor, You seem more rich than any under the moon. FIRST MERCHANT. If we knew where to find deserving poor, We would give alms. MAIRE. Then ask of Father John. FIRST MERCHANT. And have been planning out a wiser way. Let each man bring one piece of merchandise. MAIRE. And have the starving any merchandise? FIRST MERCHANT. We do but ask what each man has. MAIRE. Merchants, Their swine and cattle, fields and implements, Are sold and gone. FIRST MERCHANT. They have not sold all yet. MAIRE. What have they? FIRST MERCHANT. They have still their souls. [MAIRE shrieks. He beckons to TEIG and SHEMUS. Come hither. Is payment for a soul. From charity We give so great a price for those poor flames. Say to all men we buy men’s souls—away. [They do not stir. This pile is for you and this one here for you. MAIRE. Shemus and Teig, Teig— TEIG. Out of the way. [SHEMUS and TEIG take the money. FIRST MERCHANT. Cry out at cross-roads and at chapel doors And market-places that we buy men’s souls, Giving so great a price that men may live In mirth and ease until the famine ends. [TEIG and SHEMUS go out. MAIRE [kneeling]. Destroyers of souls, may God destroy you quickly! FIRST MERCHANT. No curse can overthrow the immortal demons. MAIRE. You shall at last dry like dry leaves, and hang Nailed like dead vermin to the doors of God. FIRST MERCHANT. You shall be ours. This famine shall not cease. You shall eat grass, and dock, and dandelion, And fail till this stone threshold seem a wall, And when your hands can scarcely drag your body We shall be near you. [To SECOND MERCHANT. Bring the meal out. [The SECOND MERCHANT brings the bag of meal from the pantry. Burn it. [MAIRE faints. Now she has swooned, our faces go unscratched; Bring me the gray hen, too. The SECOND MERCHANT goes out through the door and returns with the hen strangled. He flings it on the floor. While he is away the FIRST MERCHANT makes up the fire. The FIRST MERCHANT then fetches the pan of milk from the pantry, and spills it on the ground. He returns, and brings out the wolf, and throws it down by the hen. These need much burning. This stool and this chair here will make good fuel. [He begins breaking the chair. My master will break up the sun and moon And quench the stars in the ancestral night And overturn the thrones of God and the angels. ACT II.A great hall in the castle of the COUNTESS CATHLEEN. There is a large window at the farther end, through which the forest is visible. The wall to the right juts out slightly, cutting off an angle of the room. A flight of stone steps leads up to a small arched door in the jutting wall. Through the door can be seen a little oratory. The hall is hung with ancient tapestry, representing the loves and wars and huntings of the Fenian and Red Branch heroes. There are doors to the right and left. On the left side OONA sits, as if asleep, beside a spinning-wheel. The COUNTESS CATHLEEN stands farther back and more to the right, close to a group of the musicians, still in their fantastic dresses, who are playing a merry tune. CATHLEEN. Be silent, I am tired of tympan and harp, Till joy and sorrow and hope and terror are gone. [The COUNTESS CATHLEEN goes over to OONA. You were asleep? OONA. No, child, I was but thinking Why you have grown so sad. CATHLEEN. The famine frets me. OONA. I have lived now near ninety winters, child, And I have known three things no doctor cures— Love, loneliness, and famine; nor found refuge Other than growing old and full of sleep. See you where Oisin and young Niamh ride Wrapped in each other’s arms, and where the Fenians Follow their hounds along the fields of tapestry; How merry they lived once, yet men died then. Sit down by me, and I will chaunt the song About the Danaan nations in their raths That Aleel sang for you by the great door Before we lost him in the shadow of leaves. CATHLEEN. No, sing the song he sang in the dim light, When we first found him in the shadow of leaves, About King Fergus in his brazen car Driving with troops of dancers through the woods. [She crouches down on the floor, and lays her head on OONA’S knees. OONA. Dear heart, make a soft cradle of old tales, And songs, and music: wherefore should you sadden For wrongs you cannot hinder? The great God Smiling condemns the lost: be mirthful: He Bids youth be merry and old age be wise. CATHLEEN. Tympan and harp awaken wandering dreams. A VOICE [without]. You may not see the Countess. ANOTHER VOICE. I must see her. [Sound of a short struggle. A SERVANT enters from door to R. SERVANT. The gardener is resolved to speak with you. I cannot stay him. CATHLEEN. You may come, Maurteen. [The GARDENER, an old man, comes in from the R., and the SERVANT goes out. GARDENER. Forgive my working clothes and the dirt on me. I bring ill words, your ladyship,—too bad To send with any other. CATHLEEN. These bad times, Can any news be bad or any good? GARDENER. A crowd of ugly lean-faced rogues last night— And may God curse them!—climbed the garden wall. There is scarce an apple now on twenty trees, And my asparagus and strawberry beds Are trampled into clauber, and the boughs For some last fruit that hung there. My dog, too, My old blind Simon, him who had no tail, They murdered—God’s red anger seize them! CATHLEEN. I know how pears and all the tribe of apples Are daily in your love—how this ill chance Is sudden doomsday fallen on your year; So do not say no matter. I but say I blame the famished season, and not you. Then be not troubled. GARDENER. I thank your ladyship. CATHLEEN. What rumours and what portents of the famine? GARDENER. The yellow vapour, in whose folds it came, That creeps along the hedges at nightfall, Rots all the heart out of my cabbages. I pray against it. [He goes towards the door, then pauses. If her ladyship Behind a bush and guard the pears of nights And make a hole in somebody I know of. CATHLEEN. They will give you a long draught of ale below. [The GARDENER goes out. OONA. What did he say?—he stood on my deaf side. CATHLEEN. His apples are all stolen. Pruning time, And the slow ripening of his pears and apples, For him is a long, heart-moving history. OONA. Now lay your head once more upon my knees. I will sing how Fergus drove his brazen cars. [She chaunts with the thin voice of age. Who will go drive with Fergus now, And pierce the deep woods’ woven shade, And dance upon the level shore? Young man, lift up your russet brow, And lift your tender eyelids, maid, You have dropped down again into your trouble. You do not hear me. CATHLEEN. Ah, sing on, old Oona, I hear the horn of Fergus in my heart. OONA. I do not know the meaning of the song. I am too old. CATHLEEN. The horn is calling, calling. OONA. And no more turn aside and brood Upon Love’s bitter mystery; For Fergus rules the brazen cars, And rules the shadows of the wood, And the white breast of the dim sea And all dishevelled wandering stars. THE SERVANT’S VOICE [without]. The Countess Cathleen must not be disturbed. ANOTHER VOICE. Man, I must see her. CATHLEEN. Who now wants me, Paudeen? SERVANT [from the door]. A herdsman and his history. CATHLEEN. He may come. [The HERDSMAN enters from the door to R. HERDSMAN. Forgive this dusty gear: I have come far. My sheep were taken from the fold last night. You will be angry: I am not to blame. But blame these robbing times. CATHLEEN. No blame’s with you. I blame the famine. HERDSMAN. Kneeling, I give thanks. When gazing on your face, the poorest, Lady, Forget their poverty, the rich their care. CATHLEEN. What rumours and what portents of the famine? HERDSMAN. As I came down the lane by Tubber-vanach A boy and man sat cross-legged on two stones, With moving hands and faces famine-thin, Gabbling to crowds of men and wives and boys Of how two merchants at a house in the woods Buy souls for hell, giving so great a price That men may live through all the dearth in plenty. The vales are famine-crazy—I am right glad My home is on the mountain near to God. [He turns to go. CATHLEEN. They will give you ale and meat before you go. You must have risen at dawn to come so far. Keep your bare mountain—let the world drift by, The burden of its wrongs rests not on you. HERDSMAN. I am content to serve your ladyship. [He goes. OONA. What did he say?—he stood on my deaf side. He seemed to give you word of woful things. CATHLEEN. A story born out of the dreaming eyes And crazy brain and credulous ears of famine. O, I am sadder than an old air, Oona, My heart is longing for a deeper peace Than Fergus found amid his brazen cars: Would that like Edain my first forebear’s daughter, Who followed once a twilight’s piercing tune, I could go down and dwell among the Sidhe In their old ever-busy honeyed land. OONA. You should not say such things—they bring ill-luck. CATHLEEN. The image of young Edain on the arras, Walking along, one finger lifted up; And that wild song of the unending dance Of the dim Danaan nations in their raths, Young Aleel sang for me by the great door, Before we lost him in the shadow of leaves, Have filled me full of all these wicked words. [The SERVANT enters hastily, followed by three men. Two are peasants. SERVANT. The steward of the castle brings two men To talk with you. STEWARD. And tell the strangest story The mouth of man has uttered. CATHLEEN. More food taken; Yet learned theologians have laid down That he who has no food, offending no way, May take his meat and bread from too-full larders. FIRST PEASANT. We come to make amends for robbery. I stole five hundred apples from your trees, And laid them in a hole; and my friend here Last night stole two large mountain sheep of yours And hung them on a beam under his thatch. SECOND PEASANT. His words are true. FIRST PEASANT. Since then our luck has changed. As I came down the lane by Tubber-vanach I fell on Shemus Rua and his son, Buy souls for money, and they bought my soul. I told my friend here—my friend also trafficked. SECOND PEASANT. His words are true. FIRST PEASANT. Now people throng to sell, Noisy as seagulls tearing a dead fish. There soon will be no man or woman’s soul Unbargained for in fivescore baronies. SECOND PEASANT. His words are true. FIRST PEASANT. When we had sold we talked, And having no more comfortable life Than this that makes us warm—our souls being bartered For all this money— SECOND PEASANT. And this money here. [They bring handfuls of money from their pockets. CATHLEEN starts up. FIRST PEASANT. We come to pay you for the sheep and fruit. How do you price them? CATHLEEN. Gather up your money. Think you that I would touch the demons’ gold? Begone, give twice, thrice, twenty times their money, And buy your souls again. I will pay all. FIRST PEASANT. We will not buy our souls again: a soul But keeps the flesh out of its merriment. We shall be merry and drunk from moon to moon. Keep from our way. Let no one stop our way. [They go. CATHLEEN [to servant]. Follow and bring them here again—beseech them. [The SERVANT goes. [To STEWARD.] Steward, you know the secrets of this house. How much have I in gold? STEWARD. A hundred thousand. CATHLEEN. How much have I in castles? STEWARD. As much more. CATHLEEN. How much have I in pastures? STEWARD. As much more. CATHLEEN. How much have I in forests? STEWARD. As much more. CATHLEEN. Keeping this house alone, sell all I have; Go to some distant country and come again With many herds of cows and ships of grain. STEWARD. God’s blessing light upon your ladyship; You will have saved the land. CATHLEEN. Make no delay. [He goes. [Enter SERVANT.] How did you thrive? Say quickly. You are pale. SERVANT. Their eyes burn like the eyes of birds of prey: I did not dare go near. CATHLEEN. God pity them! Bring all the old and ailing to this house, For I will have no sorrow of my own From this day onward. [The SERVANT goes out. Some of the musicians follow him, some linger in the doorway. The COUNTESS CATHLEEN kneels beside OONA. Can you tell me, mother, How I may mend the times, how staunch this wound That bleeds in the earth, how overturn the famine, How drive these demons to their darkness again? OONA. For the apple is in our blood, and though heart break There is no medicine but Michael’s trump. Till it has ended parting and old age And hail and rain and famine and foolish laughter; The dead are happy, the dust is in their ears. |