Chapter VIII: Introduction: On the Reading of Plays (7)

BARTLEY (_comes in and looks round the room; speaking sadly and quietly_). Where is the bit of new rope, Cathleen, was bought in Connemara?

CATHLEEN (_coming down_). Give it to him, Nora; it's on a nail by the white boards. I hung it up this morning, for the pig with the black feet was eating it.

NORA (_giving him a rope_). Is that it, Bartley?

MAURYA. You'd do right to leave that rope, Bartley, hanging by the boards. (BARTLEY _takes the rope._) It will be wanting in this place, I'm telling you, if Michael is washed up to-morrow morning, or the next morning, or any morning in the week, for it's a deep grave we'll make him by the grace of God.

BARTLEY (_beginning to work with the rope_). I've no halter the way I can ride down on the mare, and I must go now quickly. This is the one boat going for two weeks or beyond it, and the fair will be a good fair for horses, I heard them saying below.

MAURYA. It's a hard thing they'll be saying below if the body is washed up and there's no man in it to make the coffin, and I after giving a big price for the finest white boards you'd find in Connemara.

(_She looks round at the boards._)

BARTLEY. How would it be washed up, and we after looking each day for nine days, and a strong wind blowing a while back from the west and south?

MAURYA. If it wasn't found itself, that wind is raising the sea, and there was a star up against the moon, and it rising in the night. If it was a hundred horses, or a thousand horses you had itself, what is the price of a thousand horses against a son where there is one son only?

BARTLEY (_working at the halter, to_ CATHLEEN). Let you go down each day, and see the sheep aren't jumping in on the rye, and if the jobber comes you can sell the pig with the black feet if there is a good price going.

MAURYA. How would the like of her get a good price for a pig?

BARTLEY (_to_ CATHLEEN). If the west wind holds with the last bit of the moon let you and Nora get up weed enough for another cock for the kelp. It's hard set we'll be from this day with no one in it but one man to work.

MAURYA. It's hard set we'll be surely the day you're drownd'd with the rest. What way will I live and the girls with me, and I an old woman looking for the grave?

(BARTLEY _lays down the halter, takes off his old coat, and puts on a newer one of the same flannel._)

BARTLEY (_to_ NORA). Is she coming to the pier?

NORA (_looking out_). She's passing the green head and letting fall her sails.

BARTLEY (_getting his purse and tobacco_). I'll have half an hour to go down, and you'll see me coming again in two days, or in three days, or maybe in four days if the wind is bad.

MAURYA (_turning round to the fire, and putting her shawl over her head_). Isn't it a hard and cruel man won't hear a word from an old woman, and she holding him from the sea?

CATHLEEN. It's the life of a young man to be going on the sea, and who would listen to an old woman with one thing and she saying it over?

BARTLEY (_taking the halter_). I must go now quickly. I'll ride down on the red mare, and the gray pony'll run behind me. The blessing of God on you.

(_He goes out._)

MAURYA (_crying out as he is in the door_). He's gone now, God spare us, and we'll not see him again. He's gone now, and when the black night is falling I'll have no son left me in the world.

CATHLEEN. Why wouldn't you give him your blessing and he looking round in the door? Isn't it sorrow enough is on everyone in this house without your sending him out with an unlucky word behind him, and a hard word in his ear?

(MAURYA _takes up the tongs and begins raking the fire aimlessly without looking round._)

NORA (_turning towards her_). You're taking away the turf from the cake.

CATHLEEN (_crying out_). The Son of God forgive us, Nora, we're after forgetting his bit of bread.

(_She comes over to the fire._)

NORA. And it's destroyed he'll be going till dark night, and he after eating nothing since the sun went up.

CATHLEEN (_turning the cake out of the oven_). It's destroyed he'll be, surely. There's no sense left on any person in a house where an old woman will be talking for ever.

(MAURYA _sways herself on her stool._)

CATHLEEN (_cutting off some of the bread and rolling it in a cloth, to_ MAURYA). Let you go down now to the spring well and give him this and he passing. You'll see him then and the dark word will be broken, and you can say, "God speed you," the way he'll be easy in his mind.

MAURYA (_taking the bread_). Will I be in it as soon as himself?

CATHLEEN. If you go now quickly.

MAURYA (_standing up unsteadily_). It's hard set I am to walk.

CATHLEEN (_looking at her anxiously_). Give her the stick, Nora, or maybe she'll slip on the big stones.

NORA. What stick?

CATHLEEN. The stick Michael brought from Connemara.

MAURYA (_taking a stick NORA gives her_). In the big world the old people do be leaving things after them for their sons and children, but in this place it is the young men do be leaving things behind for them that do be old.

(_She goes out slowly. NORA goes over to the ladder._)

CATHLEEN. Wait, Nora, maybe she'd turn back quickly. She's that sorry, God help her, you wouldn't know the thing she'd do.

NORA. Is she gone round by the bush?

CATHLEEN (_looking out_). She's gone now. Throw it down quickly, for the Lord knows when she'll be out of it again.

NORA (_getting the bundle from the loft_). The young priest said he'd be passing to-morrow, and we might go down and speak to him below if it's Michael's they are surely.

CATHLEEN (_taking the bundle_). Did he say what way they were found?

NORA (_coming down_). "There were two men," says he, "and they rowing round with poteen before the cocks crowed, and the oar of one of them caught the body, and they passing the black cliffs of the north."

CATHLEEN (_trying to open the bundle_). Give me a knife, Nora; the string's perished with the salt water, and there's a black knot on it you wouldn't loosen in a week.

NORA (_giving her a knife_). I've heard tell it was a long way to Donegal.

CATHLEEN (_cutting the string_). It is surely. There was a man in here a while ago--the man sold us that knife--and he said if you set off walking from the rocks beyond, it would be seven days you'd be in Donegal.

NORA. And what time would a man take, and he floating?

(CATHLEEN _opens the bundle and takes out a bit of a stocking. They look at them eagerly._)

CATHLEEN (_in a low voice_). The Lord spare us, Nora! Isn't it a queer hard thing to say if it's his they are surely?

NORA. I'll get his shirt off the hook the way we can put the one flannel on the other. (_She looks through some clothes hanging in the corner_) It's not with them, Cathleen, and where will it be?

CATHLEEN. I'm thinking Bartley put it on him in the morning, for his own shirt was heavy with the salt in it. (_Pointing to the corner_) There's a bit of a sleeve was of the same stuff. Give me that and it will do.

(NORA _brings it to her and they compare the flannel._)

CATHLEEN. It's the same stuff, Nora; but if it is itself, aren't there great rolls of it in the shops of Galway, and isn't it many another man may have a shirt of it as well as Michael himself?

NORA (_who has taken up the stocking and counted the stitches, crying out_) It's Michael, Cathleen, it's Michael; God spare his soul and what will herself say when she hears this story, and Bartley on the sea?

CATHLEEN (_taking the stocking_). It's a plain stocking.

NORA. It's the second one of the third pair I knitted, and I put up three score stitches, and I dropped four of them.

CATHLEEN (_counts the stitches_). It's that number is in it. (_Crying out_) Ah, Nora, isn't it a bitter thing to think of him floating that way to the far north, and no one to keen him but the black hags that do be flying on the sea?

NORA (_swinging herself round, and throwing out her arms on the clothes_). And isn't it a pitiful thing when there is nothing left of a man who was a great rower and fisher, but a bit of an old shirt and a plain stocking?

CATHLEEN (_after an instant_). Tell me is herself coming, Nora? I hear a little sound on the path.

NORA (_looking out_). She is, Cathleen. She's coming up to the door.

CATHLEEN. Put these things away before she'll come in. Maybe it's easier she'll be after giving her blessing to Bartley, and we won't let on we've heard anything the time he's on the sea.

NORA (_helping CATHLEEN to close the bundle_). We'll put them here in the corner.

(_They put them into a hole in the chimney corner. CATHLEEN goes back to the spinning wheel._)

NORA. Will she see it was crying I was?

CATHLEEN. Keep your back to the door the way the light'll not be on you.

(NORA _sits down at the chimney corner, with her back to the door._ MAURYA _comes in very slowly, without looking at the girls, and goes over to her stool at the other side of the fire. The cloth with the bread is still in her hand. The girls look at each other, and_ NORA _points to the bundle of bread._)

CATHLEEN (_offer spinning for a moment_), You didn't give him his bit of bread?

(MAURYA _begins to keen softly, without turning round._)

CATHLEEN. Did you see him riding down?

(MAURYA _goes on keening._)

CATHLEEN (_a little impatiently_). God forgive you; isn't it a better thing to raise your voice and tell what you seen, than to be making lamentation for a thing that's done? Did you see Bartley, I'm saying to you.

MAURYA (_with a weak voice_). My heart's broken from this day.

CATHLEEN (_as before_). Did you see Bartley?

MAURYA. I seen the fearfulest thing.

CATHLEEN (_leaves her wheel and looks out_). God forgive you; he's riding the mare now over the green head, and the gray pony behind him.

MAURYA (_starts, so that her shawl falls back from her head and shows her white tossed hair; with a frightened voice_). The gray pony behind him.

CATHLEEN (_coming to the fire_). What is it ails you, at all?

MAURYA (_speaking very slowly_). I've seen the fearfulest thing any person has seen, since the day Bride Dara seen the dead man with the child in his arms.

CATHLEEN AND NORA. Uah.

(_They crouch down in front of the old woman at the fire._)

NORA. Tell us what it is you seen.

MAURYA. I went down to the spring-well, and I stood there saying a prayer to myself. Then Bartley came along, and he riding on the red mare with the gray pony behind him. (_She puts up her hands, as if to hide something from her eyes._) The Son of God spare us, Nora!

CATHLEEN. What is it you seen?

MAURYA. I seen Michael himself.

CATHLEEN (_speaking softly_). You did not, mother; it wasn't Michael you seen, for his body is after being found in the far north, and he's got a clean burial by the grace of God.

MAURYA (_a little defiantly_). I'm after seeing him this day, and he riding and galloping. Bartley came first on the red mare; and I tried to say "God speed you," but something choked the words in my throat. He went by quickly; and, "The blessing of God on you," says he, and I could say nothing. I looked up then, and I crying, at the gray pony, and there was Michael upon it--with fine clothes on him, and new shoes on his feet.

CATHLEEN (_begins to keen_). It's destroyed we are from this day. It's destroyed, surely.

NORA. Didn't the young priest say the Almighty God wouldn't leave her destitute with no son living?

MAUKYA (_in a low voice, but clearly_). It's little the like of him knows of the sea.... Bartley will be lost now, and let you call in Eamon and make me a good coffin out of the white boards, for I won't live after them. I've had a husband, and a husband's father, and six sons in this house--six fine men, though it was a hard birth I had with every one of them and they coming to the world--and some of them were found and some of them were not found, but they're gone now, the lot of them.... There were Stephen, and Shawn, were lost in the great wind, and found after in the Bay of Gregory of the Golden Mouth, and carried up the two of them on the one plank, and in by that door.

(_She pauses for a moment, the girls start as if they heard something through the door that is half-open behind them._)

NORA (_in a whisper_). Did you hear that, Cathleen? Did you hear a noise in the northeast?

CATHLEEN (_in a whisper_). There's someone after crying out by the seashore.

MAURYA (_continues without hearing anything_). There was Sheamus and his father, and his own father again, were lost in a dark night, and not a stick or sign was seen of them when the sun went up. There was Patch after was drowned out of a curagh that turned over. I was sitting here with Bartley, and he a baby, lying on my two knees, and I seen two women, and three women, and four women coming in, and they crossing themselves, and not saying a word. I looked out then, and there were men coming after them, and they holding a thing in the half of a red sail, and water dripping out of it--it was a dry day, Nora--and leaving a track to the door.

(_She pauses again with her hand stretched out towards the door. It opens softly and old women begin to come in, crossing themselves on the threshold, and kneeling down in front of the stage with red petticoats over their heads._)

MAURYA (_half in a dream, to Cathleen_). Is it Patch, or Michael, or what is it at all?

CATHLEEN. Michael is after being found in the far north, and when he is found there how could he be here in this place?

MAURYA. There does be a power of young men floating round in the sea, and what way would they know if it was Michael they had, or another man like him, for when a man is nine days in the sea, and the wind blowing, it's hard set his own mother would be to say what man was it.

CATHLEEN. It's Michael, God spare him, for they're after sending us a bit of his clothes from the far north.

(_She reaches out and hands MAURYA the clothes that belonged to_ MICHAEL. MAURYA _stands up slowly, and takes them in her hands._ NORA _looks out._)

NORA. They're carrying a thing among them and there's water dripping out of it and leaving a track by the big stones.

CATHLEEN (_in a whisper to the women who have come in_). Is it Bartley it is?

ONE OF THE WOMEN. It is surely, God rest his soul.

(_Two younger women come in and pull out the table. Then men carry in the body of_ BARTLEY, _laid on a plank, with a bit of a sail over it, and lay it on the table._)

CATHLEEN (_to the women, as they are doing so_). What way was he drowned?

ONE OF THE WOMEN. The gray pony knocked him into the sea, and he was washed out where there is a great surf on the white rocks.

(MAURYA _has gone over and knelt down at the head of the table. The women are keening softly and swaying themselves with a slow movement._ CATHLEEN _and_ NORA _kneel at the other end of the table. The men kneel near the door._)

MAURYA (_raising her head and speaking as if she did not see the people around her_). They're all gone now, and there isn't anything more the sea can do to me.... I'll have no call now to be up crying and praying when the wind breaks from the south, and you can hear the surf is in the east, and the surf is in the west, making a great stir with the two noises, and they hitting one on the other. I'll have no call now to be going down and getting Holy Water in the dark nights after Samhain, and I won't care what way the sea is when the other women will be keening. (_To_ NORA) Give me the Holy Water, Nora; there's a small sup still on the dresser.

(NORA _gives it to her._)

MAURYA (_drops_ MICHAEL'S _clothes across_ BARTLEY'S _feet, and sprinkles the Holy Water over him_). It isn't that I haven't prayed for you, BARTLEY, to the Almighty God. It isn't that I haven't said prayers in the dark night till you wouldn't know what I'd be saying; but it's a great rest I'll have now, and it's time surely. It's a great rest I'll have now, and great sleeping in the long nights after Samhain, if it's only a bit of wet flour we do have to eat, and maybe a fish that would be stinking.

(_She kneels down again, crossing herself, and saying prayers under her breath._)

CATHLEEN (_to an old man_). Maybe yourself and Eamon would make a coffin when the sun rises. We have fine white boards herself bought, God help her, thinking Michael would be found, and I have a new cake you can eat while you'll be working.

THE OLD MAN (_looking at the boards_). Are there nails with them?

CATHLEEN. There are not, Colum; we didn't think of the nails.

ANOTHER MAN. It's a great wonder she wouldn't think of the nails, and all the coffins she's seen made already.

CATHLEEN. It's getting old she is, and broken.

(MAURYA _stands up again very slowly and spreads out the pieces of_ MICHAEL'S _clothes beside the body, sprinkling them with the last of the Holy Water._)

NORA (_in a whisper to_ CATHLEEN). She's quiet now and easy; but the day Michael was drowned you could hear her crying out from this to the spring-well. It's fonder she was of Michael, and would anyone have thought that?

CATHLEEN (_slowly and clearly_). An old woman will be soon tired with anything she will do, and isn't it nine days herself is after crying and keening, and making great sorrow in the house?

MAURYA (_puts the empty cup mouth downwards on the table, and lays her hands together on_ BARTLEY'S _feet_). They're all together this time, and the end is come. May the Almighty God have mercy on Bartley's soul, and on Michael's soul, and on the souls of Sheamus and Patch, and Stephen and Shawn (_bending her head_); and may He have mercy on my soul, Nora, and on the soul of everyone is left living in the world.

(_She pauses, and the keen rises a little more loudly from the women, then sinks away._)

MAURYA (_continuing_). Michael has a clean burial in the far north, by the grace of the Almighty God. Bartley will have a fine coffin out of the white boards, and a deep grave surely. What more can we want than that? No man at all can be living for ever, and we must be satisfied.

(_She kneels down again, and the curtain falls slowly_).

THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE[1]

William Butler Yeats

[Footnote 1: Reprinted by arrangement with Mr. Yeats and the Macmillan Company, New York, publishers of Mr. Yeats's Collected Works (1912).]

CHARACTERS

MAURTEEN BRUIN BRIDGET BRUIN, his wife SHAWN BRUIN, their son MAIRE BRUIN, wife of Shawn FATHER HART A FAERY CHILD

SCENE: _In the Barony of Kilmacowan, in the county of Sligo, at a remote time._

SETTING: _a room with a hearth on the floor in the middle of a deep alcove on the right. There are benches in the alcove, and a table; a crucifix on the wall. The alcove is full of a glow of light from the fire. There is an open door facing the audience, to the left, and to the left of this a bench. Through the door one can see the forest. It is night, but the moon or a late sunset glimmers through the trees, and carries the eye far off into a vague, mysterious world. MAURTEEN BRUIN, SHAWN BRUIN, and BRIDGET BRUIN sit in the alcove at the table, or about the fire. They are dressed in the costume of some remote time, and near them sits an old priest, FATHER HART, in the garb of a friar. There is food and drink upon the table. MAIRE BRUIN stands by the door, reading a yellow manuscript. If she looks up, she can see through the door into the wood._

BRIDGET BRUIN
Because I bade her go and feed the calves,
She took that old book down out of the thatch
And has been doubled over it all day.
We should be deafened by her groans and moans
Had she to work as some do, Father Hart,
Get up at dawn like me, and mend and scour;
Or ride abroad in the boisterous night like you,
The pyx and blessed bread under your arm.

SHAWN BRUIN
You are too cross.

BRIDGET BRUIN
The young side with the young.

MAURTEEN BRUIN
She quarrels with my wife a bit at times,
And is too deep just now in the old book!
But do not blame her greatly; she will grow
As quiet as a puff-ball in a tree
When but the moons of marriage dawn and die
For half a score of times.

FATHER HART
Their hearts are wild
As be the hearts of birds, till children come.

BRIDGET BRUIN
She would not mind the griddle, milk the cow,
Or even lay the knives and spread the cloth.

FATHER HART
I never saw her read a book before;
What may it be?

MAURTEEN BRUIN
I do not rightly know;
It has been in the thatch for fifty years.
My father told me my grandfather wrote it,
Killed a red heifer and bound it with the hide.
But draw your chair this way--supper is spread;
And little good he got out of the book,
Because it filled his house with roaming bards,
And roaming ballad-makers and the like,
And wasted all his goods.--Here is the wine:
The griddle bread's beside you, Father Hart.
Colleen, what have you got there in the book
That you must leave the bread to cool? Had I,
Or had my father, read or written books
There were no stocking stuffed with golden guineas
To come, when I am dead, to Shawn and you.

FATHER HART
You should not fill your head with foolish dreams.
What are you reading?

MARIE BRUIN
How a Princess Edane,
A daughter of a King of Ireland, heard
A voice singing on a May Eve like this,
And followed, half awake and half asleep,
Until she came into the Land of Faëry,
Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,
Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,
Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue;
And she is still there, busied with a dance,
Deep in the dewy shadow of a wood,
Or where stars walk upon a mountain-top.

MAURTEEN BRUIN
Persuade the colleen to put by the book:
My grandfather would mutter just such things,
And he was no judge of a dog or horse,
And any idle boy could blarney him:
Just speak your mind.

FATHER HART
Put it away, my colleen.
God spreads the heavens above us like great wings,
And gives a little round of deeds and days,
And then come the wrecked angels and set snares,
And bait them with light hopes and heavy dreams,
Until the heart is puffed with pride and goes,
Half shuddering and half joyous, from God's peace:
And it was some wrecked angel, blind from tears,
Who flattered Edane's heart with merry words.
My colleen, I have seen some other girls
Restless and ill at ease, but years went by
And they grew like their neighbours and were glad
In minding children, working at the churn,
And gossiping of weddings and of wakes;
For life moves out of a red flare of dreams
Into a common light of common hours,
Until old age bring the red flare again.

MAURTEEN BRUIN
That's true--but she's too young to know it's true.

BRIDGET BRUIN
She's old enough to know that it is wrong
To mope and idle.

SHAWN BRUIN
I've little blame for her;
And mother's tongue were harder still to bear,
But for her fancies: this is May Eve too,
When the good people post about the world,
And surely one may think of them to-night.
Maire, have you the primroses to fling
Before the door to make a golden path
For them to bring good luck into the house?
Remember, they may steal new-married brides
After the fall of twilight on May Eve.

(MAIRE BRUIN _goes over to the window and takes flowers
from the bowl and strews them outside the door._)

FATHER HART
You do well, daughter, because God permits
Great power to the good people on May Eve.

SHAWN BRUIN
They can work all their will with primroses;
Change them to golden money, or little flames
To burn up those who do them any wrong.

MARIE BRUIN (_in a dreamy voice_)
I had no sooner flung them by the door
Than the wind cried and hurried them away;
And then a child came running in the wind
And caught them in her hands and fondled them:
Her dress was green: her hair was of red gold;
Her face was pale as water before dawn.

FATHER HART
Whose child can this be?

MAURTEEN BRUIN
No one's child at all.
She often dreams that someone has gone by
When there was nothing but a puff of wind.

MARIE BRUIN
They will not bring good luck into the house,
For they have blown the primroses away;
Yet I am glad that I was courteous to them,
For are not they, likewise, children of God?

FATHER HART
Colleen, they are the children of the fiend,
And they have power until the end of Time,
When God shall fight with them a great pitched battle
And hack them into pieces.

MARIE BRUIN
He will smile,
Father, perhaps, and open His great door,
And call the pretty and kind into His house.

FATHER HART
Did but the lawless angels see that door,
They would fall, slain by everlasting peace;
And when such angels knock upon our doors
Who goes with them must drive through the same storm.

(_A knock at the door._ MAIRE BRUIN _opens it and then
goes to the dresser and fills a porringer with milk and
hands it through the door, and takes it back empty and
closes the door._)

MARIE BRUIN
A little queer old woman cloaked in green,
Who came to beg a porringer of milk.

BRIDGET BRUIN
The good people go asking milk and fire
Upon May Eve--Woe on the house that gives,
For they have power upon it for a year.
I knew you would bring evil on the house.

MAURTEEN BRUIN
Who was she?

MARIE BRUIN
Both the tongue and face were strange.

MAURTEEN BRUIN
Some strangers came last week to Clover Hill;
She must be one of them.

BRIDGET BRUIN
I am afraid.

MAURTEEN BRUIN
The priest will keep all harm out of the house.

FATHER HART
The cross will keep all harm out of the house
While it hangs there.

MAURTEEN BRUIN
Come, sit beside me, colleen,
And put away your dreams of discontent,
For I would have you light up my last days
Like the good glow of the turf, and when I die
I will make you the wealthiest hereabout:
For hid away where nobody can find
I have a stocking full of yellow guineas.

BRIDGET BRUIN
You are the fool of every pretty face,
And I must pinch and pare that my son's wife
May have all kinds of ribbons for her head.

MAURTEEN BRUIN
Do not be cross; she is a right good girl!
The butter is by your elbow, Father Hart.
My colleen, have not Fate and Time and Change
Done well for me and for old Bridget there?
We have a hundred acres of good land,
And sit beside each other at the fire,
The wise priest of our parish to our right,
And you and our dear son to left of us.
To sit beside the board and drink good wine
And watch the turf smoke coiling from the fire
And feel content and wisdom in your heart,
This is the best of life; when we are young
We long to tread a way none trod before,
But find the excellent old way through love
And through the care of children to the hour
For bidding Fate and Time and Change good-bye.

(_A knock at the door._ MAIRE BRUIN _opens it and then
takes a sod of turf out of the hearth in the tongs and
goes out through the door._ SHAWN _follows her and
meets her coming in._)

SHAWN BRUIN
What is it draws you to the chill o' the wood?
There is a light among the stems of the trees
That makes one shiver.

MARIE BRUIN
A little queer old man
Made me a sign to show he wanted fire
To light his pipe.

BRIDGET BRUIN
You've given milk and fire,
Upon the unluckiest night of the year, and brought,
For all you know, evil upon the house.
Before you married you were idle and fine,
And went about with ribbons on your head;
And now--no, father, I will speak my mind,
She is not a fitting wife for any man--

SHAWN BRUIN
Be quiet, mother!

MAURTEEN BRUIN
You are much too cross!

MARIE BRUIN
What do I care if I have given this house,
Where I must hear all day a bitter tongue,
Into the power of faëries!

BRIDGET BRUIN
You know well
How calling the good people by that name
Or talking of them over much at all
May bring all kinds of evil on the house.

MARIE BRUIN
Come, faëries, take me out of this dull house!
Let me have all the freedom I have lost;
Work when I will and idle when I will!
Faëries, come take me out of this dull world,
For I would ride with you upon the wind,
Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,
And dance upon the mountains like a flame!

FATHER HART
You cannot know the meaning of your words.

MARIE BRUIN
Father, I am right weary of four tongues:
A tongue that is too crafty and too wise,
A tongue that is too godly and too grave,
A tongue that is more bitter than the tide,
And a kind tongue too full of drowsy love,
Of drowsy love and my captivity.

(SHAWN BRUIN _comes over to her and leads her to the
settle._)

SHAWN BRUIN
Do not blame me: I often lie awake
Thinking that all things trouble your bright head--
How beautiful it is--such broad pale brows
Under a cloudy blossoming of hair!
Sit down beside me here--these are too old,
And have forgotten they were ever young.

MARIE BRUIN
Oh, you are the great door-post of this house,
And I, the red nasturtium, climbing up.

(_She takes_ SHAWN'S _hand, but looks shyly at the priest
and lets it go._)

FATHER HART
Good daughter, take his hand--by love alone
God binds us to Himself and to the hearth
And shuts us from the waste beyond His peace,
From maddening freedom and bewildering light.

SHAWN BRUIN
Would that the world were mine to give it you
With every quiet hearth and barren waste,
The maddening freedom of its woods and tides,
And the bewildering light upon its hills.

MARIE BRUIN
Then I would take and break it in my hands
To see you smile watching it crumble away.

SHAWN BRUIN
Then I would mould a world of fire and dew
With no one bitter, grave, or over wise,
And nothing marred or old to do you wrong,
And crowd the enraptured quiet of the sky
With candles burning to your lonely face.

MARIE BRUIN
Your looks are all the candles that I need.

SHAWN BRUIN
Once a fly dancing in a beam of the sun,
Or the light wind blowing out of the dawn,
Could fill your heart with dreams none other knew,
But now the indissoluble sacrament
Has mixed your heart that was most proud and cold
With my warm heart forever; and sun and moon
Must fade and heaven be rolled up like a scroll;
But your white spirit still walk by my spirit.

(_A_ VOICE _sings in the distance._)

MARIE BRUIN
Did you hear something call? Oh, guard me close,
Because I have said wicked things to-night;
And seen a pale-faced child with red-gold hair,
And longed to dance upon the winds with her.

A VOICE (_close to the door_)
The wind blows out of the gates of the day,
The wind blows over the lonely of heart
And the lonely of heart is withered away,
While the faëries dance in a place apart,
Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring,
Tossing their milk-white arms in the air;
For they hear the wind laugh, and murmur and sing
Of a land where even the old are fair,
And even the wise are merry of tongue;
But I heard a reed of Coolaney say,
"When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung,
The lonely of heart is withered away!"

MAURTEEN BRUIN
I am right happy, and would make all else
Be happy too. I hear a child outside,
And will go bring her in out of the cold.

(_He opens the door. A_ CHILD _dressed in pale green and
with red-gold hair comes into the house._)

THE CHILD
I tire of winds and waters and pale lights!

MAURTEEN BRUIN
You are most welcome. It is cold out there;
Who would think to face such cold on a May Eve?

THE CHILD
And when I tire of this warm little house
There is one here who must away, away,
To where the woods, the stars, and the white streams
Are holding a continual festival.

MAURTEEN BRUIN
Oh, listen to her dreamy and strange talk.
Come to the fire.

THE CHILD
I will sit upon your knee,
For I have run from where the winds are born,
And long to rest my feet a little while.

(_She sits upon his knee._)

BRIDGET BRUIN
How pretty you are!

MAURTEEN BRUIN
Your hair is wet with dew!

BRIDGET BRUIN
I will warm your chilly feet.

(_She takes the child's feet in her hands._)

MAURTEEN BRUIN
You must have come
A long, long way, for I have never seen
Your pretty face, and must be tired and hungry;
Here is some bread and wine.

THE CHILD
The wine is bitter.
Old mother, have you no sweet food for me?

BRIDGET BRUIN
I have some honey!

(_She goes into the next room._)

MAURTEEN BRUIN
You are a dear child;
The mother was quite cross before you came.

(BRIDGET _returns with the honey, and goes to the dresser
and fills a porringer with milk._)

BRIDGET BRUIN
She is the child of gentle people; look
At her white hands and at her pretty dress.
I've brought you some new milk, but wait awhile,
And I will put it by the fire to warm,
For things well fitted for poor folk like us
Would never please a high-born child like you.

THE CHILD
Old mother, my old mother, the green dawn
Brightens above while you blow up the fire;
And evening finds you spreading the white cloth.
The young may lie in bed and dream and hope,
But you work on because your heart is old.

BRIDGET BRUIN
The young are idle.

THE CHILD
Old father, you are wise
And all the years have gathered in your heart
To whisper of the wonders that are gone.
The young must sigh through many a dream and hope,
But you are wise because your heart is old.

MAURTEEN BRUIN
Oh, who would think to find so young a child
Loving old age and wisdom?

(BRIDGET _gives her more bread and honey._)

THE CHILD
No more, mother.

MAURTEEN BRUIN
What a small bite! The milk is ready now;
What a small sip!

THE CHILD
Put on my shoes, old mother,
For I would like to dance now I have eaten.
The reeds are dancing by Coolaney lake,
And I would like to dance until the reeds
And the white waves have danced themselves to sleep.

BRIDGET
(_Having put on her shoes, she gets off the old man's knees
and is about to dance, but suddenly sees the crucifix
and shrieks and covers her eyes._)
What is that ugly thing on the black cross?

FATHER HART
You cannot know how naughty your words are!
That is our Blessed Lord!

THE CHILD
Hide it away!

BRIDGET BRUIN
I have begun to be afraid, again!

THE CHILD
Hide it away!

MAURTEEN BRUIN
That would be wickedness!

BRIDGET BRUIN
That would be sacrilege!

THE CHILD
The tortured thing!
Hide it away!

MAURTEEN BRUIN
Her parents are to blame.

FATHER HART
That is the image of the Son of God.

(THE CHILD _puts her arm around his neck and kisses him._)

THE CHILD
Hide it away! Hide it away!

MAURTEEN BRUIN
No! no!

FATHER HART
Because you are so young and little a child
I will go take it down.

THE CHILD
Hide it away,
And cover it out of sight and out of mind.

(FATHER HART _takes it down and carries it towards the
inner room._)

FATHER HART
Since you have come into this barony
I will instruct you in our blessed faith:
Being a clever child you will soon learn.

(_To the others_)

We must be tender with all budding things.
Our Maker let no thought of Calvary
Trouble the morning stars in their first song.

(_Puts the crucifix in the inner room._)

THE CHILD
Here is level ground for dancing. I will dance.
The wind is blowing on the waving reeds,
The wind is blowing on the heart of man.

(_She dances, swaying about like the reeds._)

MAIRE (_to_ SHAWN BRUIN)
Just now when she came near I thought I heard
Other small steps beating upon the floor,
And a faint music blowing in the wind,
Invisible pipes giving her feet the time.

SHAWN BRUIN
I heard no step but hers.

MARIE BRUIN
Look to the bolt!
Because the unholy powers are abroad.

MAURTEEN BRUIN (_to_ THE CHILD)
Come over here, and if you promise me
Not to talk wickedly of holy things
I will give you something.

THE CHILD
Bring it me, old father!

(MAURTEEN BRUIN _goes into the next room._)

FATHER HART
I will have queen cakes when you come to me!

(MAURTEEN BRUIN _returns and lays a piece of money on
the table._ THE CHILD _makes a gesture of refusal._)

MAURTEEN BRUIN
It will buy lots of toys; see how it glitters!

THE CHILD
Come, tell me, do you love me?

MAURTEEN BRUIN
I love you!

THE CHILD
Ah! but you love this fireside!

FATHER HART
I love you.
When the Almighty puts so great a share
Of His own ageless youth into a creature,
To look is but to love.

THE CHILD
But you love Him above.

BRIDGET BRUIN
She is blaspheming.

THE CHILD (_to_ MAIRE)
And do you love me?

MARIE BRUIN
I--I do not know.

THE CHILD
You love that great tall fellow over there:
Yet I could make you ride upon the winds,
Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,
And dance upon the mountains like a flame!

MARIE BRUIN
Queen of the Angels and kind Saints, defend us!
Some dreadful fate has fallen: a while ago
The wind cried out and took the primroses,
And she ran by me laughing in the wind,
And I gave milk and fire, and she came in
And made you hide the blessed crucifix.

FATHER HART
You fear because of her wild, pretty prattle;
She knows no better.

(_To_ THE CHILD)

Child, how old are you?

THE CHILD
When winter sleep is abroad my hair grows thin,
My feet unsteady. When the leaves awaken
My mother carries me in her golden arms.
I will soon put on my womanhood and marry
The spirits of wood and water, but who can tell
When I was born for the first time? I think
I am much older than the eagle cock
That blinks and blinks on Ballygawley Hill,
And he is the oldest thing under the moon.

FATHER HART
She is of the faëry people.

THE CHILD
I am Brig's daughter.
I sent my messengers for milk and fire,
And then I heard one call to me and came.

(_They all except_ SHAWN _and_ MAIRE BRUIN _gather
behind the priest for protection._)

SHAWN (_rising_)
Though you have made all these obedient,
You have not charmed my sight, and won from me
A wish or gift to make you powerful;
I'll turn you from the house.

FATHER HART
No, I will face her.

THE CHILD
Because you took away the crucifix
I am so mighty that there's none can pass
Unless I will it, where my feet have danced
Or where I've twirled my finger tops.

(SHAWN _tries to approach her and cannot._)

MAURTEEN
Look, look!
There something stops him--look how he moves his hands
As though he rubbed them on a wall of glass.

FATHER HART
I will confront this mighty spirit alone.

(_They cling to him and hold him back._)

THE CHILD (_while she strews primroses_)
No one whose heart is heavy with human tears
Can cross these little cressets of the wood.

FATHER HART
Be not afraid, the Father is with us,
And all the nine angelic hierarchies,
The Holy Martyrs and the Innocents,
The adoring Magi in their coats of mail,
And He who died and rose on the third day,
And Mary with her seven times wounded heart.

(THE CHILD _ceases strewing the primroses, and kneels
upon the settle beside MAIRE and puts her arms about
her neck._)

Cry, daughter, to the Angels and the Saints.

THE CHILD
You shall go with me, newly married bride,
And gaze upon a merrier multitude;
White-armed Nuala, Aengus of the birds,
Feacra of the hurtling foam, and him
Who is the ruler of the Western Host,
Finvarra, and their Land of Heart's Desire,
Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood,
But joy is wisdom, Time an endless song.
I kiss you and the world begins to fade.

FATHER HART
Daughter, I call you unto home and love!

THE CHILD
Stay, and come with me, newly married bride,
For, if you hear him, you grow like the rest:
Bear children, cook, be mindful of the churn,
And wrangle over butter, fowl, and eggs,
And sit at last there, old and bitter of tongue,
Watching the white stars war upon your hopes.

SHAWN
Awake out of that trance, and cover up
Your eyes and ears.

FATHER HART
She must both look and listen,
For only the soul's choice can save her now.
Daughter, I point you out the way to heaven.

THE CHILD
But I can lead you, newly married bride,
Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,
Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,
Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue,
And where kind tongues bring no captivity;
For we are only true to the far lights
We follow singing, over valley and hill.

FATHER HART
By the dear name of the one crucified,
I bid you, Maire Bruin, come to me.

THE CHILD
I keep you in the name of your own heart!

(_She leaves the settle, and stooping takes up a mass
of primroses and kisses them._)

We have great power to-night, dear golden folk,
For he took down and hid the crucifix.
And my invisible brethren fill the house;
I hear their footsteps going up and down.
Oh, they shall soon rule all the hearts of men
And own all lands; last night they merrily danced
About his chapel belfry! (_To_ MAIRE) Come away,
I hear my brethren bidding us away!

FATHER HART
I will go fetch the crucifix again.

(_They hang about him in terror and prevent him from
moving._)

BRIDGET BRUIN
The enchanted flowers will kill us if you go.

MAURTEEN BRUIN
They turn the flowers to little twisted flames.

SHAWN BRUIN
The little twisted flames burn up the heart.

THE CHILD
I hear them crying, "Newly married bride,
Come to the woods and waters and pale lights."

MARIE BRUIN
I will go with you.

FATHER HART
She is lost, alas!

THE CHILD (_standing by the door_)
But clinging mortal hope must fall from you:
For we who ride the winds, run on the waves
And dance upon the mountains, are more light
Than dewdrops on the banners of the dawn.

MARIE BRUIN
Oh, take me with you.

(SHAWN BRUIN _goes over to her._)

SHAWN BRUIN
Beloved, do not leave me!
Remember when I met you by the well
And took your hand in mine and spoke of love.

MARIE BRUIN
Dear face! Dear voice!

THE CHILD
Come, newly married bride!

MARIE BRUIN
I always loved her world--and yet--and yet--

(_Sinks into his arms._)

THE CHILD (_from the door_)
White bird, white bird, come with me, little bird.

MARIE BRUIN
She calls to me!

THE CHILD
Come with me, little bird!

MARIE BRUIN
I can hear songs and dancing!

SHAWN BRUIN
Stay with me!

MARIE BRUIN
I think that I would stay--and yet--and yet--

THE CHILD
Come, little bird with crest of gold!

MARIE BRUIN (_very softly_)
And yet--

THE CHILD
Come, little bird with silver feet!

(MAIRE _dies, and the child goes._)

SHAWN BRUIN
She is dead!

BRIDGET BRUIN
Come from that image: body and soul are gone.
You have thrown your arms about a drift of leaves
Or bole of an ash tree changed into her image.

FATHER HART
Thus do the spirits of evil snatch their prey
Almost out of the very hand of God;
And day by day their power is more and more,
And men and women leave old paths, for pride
Comes knocking with thin knuckles on the heart.

A VOICE (_singing outside_)
The wind blows out of the gates of the day,
The wind blows over the lonely of heart,
And the lonely of heart is withered away
While the faëries dance in a place apart,
Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring,
Tossing their milk-white arms in the air;
For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing
Of a land where even the old are fair,
And even the wise are merry of tongue;
But I heard a reed of Coolaney say,
"When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung,
The lonely of heart is withered away."

(_The song is taken up by many voices, who sing loudly,
as if in triumph. Some of the voices seem to come from
within the house._)

[CURTAIN]

THE RIDING TO LITHEND[1]

Gordon Bottomley

[Footnote 1: This play is reprinted by permission of and by arrangement with Constable and Company, Limited, London.]

CHARACTERS

GUNNAR HAMUNDSSON HALLGERD LONGCOAT, his wife RANNVEIG, his mother ODDNY, ASTRID, and STEINVOR, Hallgerd's housewomen ORMILD, a woman thrall BIARTEY, JOFRID, and GUDFINN, beggar-women GIZUR THE WHITE, MORD VALGARDSSON, THORGRIM THE EASTERLING, THORBRAND THORLEIKSSON and ASBRAND his brother, AUNUND, THORGEIB, and HROALD, riders MANY OTHER RIDERS AND VOICES OF RIDERS

TIME: _Iceland, A.D. 990_

SCENE: _The hall of GUNNAR'S house at Lithend in South Iceland. The portion shewn is set on the stage diagonally, so that to the right one end is seen, while from the rear corner of this, one side runs down almost to the left front._

_The side wall is low and wainscoted with carved panelling on which hang weapons, shields, and coats of mail. In one place a panel slid aside shews a shut bed._

_In front of the panelling are two long benches with a carved high-seat between them. Across the end of the hall are similar panellings and the seats, with corresponding tables, of the women's dais; behind these and in the gable wall is a high narrow door with a rounded top._

_A timber roof slopes down to the side wall and is upheld by cross-beams and two rows of tall pillars which make a rather narrow nave of the centre of the hall. One of these rows runs parallel to the side wall, the pair of pillars before the high-seat being carved and ended with images; of the other row only two pillars are visible at the extreme right._

_Within this nave is the space for the hearths; but the only hearth visible is the one near the women's dais. In the roof above it there is a louvre: the fire glows and no smoke rises. The hall is lit everywhere by the firelight._

_The rafters over the women's dais carry a floor at the level of the side walls, forming an open loft which is reached by a wide ladder fixed against the wall: a bed is seen in this loft. Low in the roof at intervals are shuttered casements, one being above the loft: all the shutters are closed. Near the fire a large shaggy hound is sleeping; and ORMILD, in the undyed woollen dress of a thrall, is combing wool._

ODDNY _stands spinning at the side; near her_ ASTRID _and_ STEINVOR _sit stitching a robe which hangs between them._

ASTRID
Night is a winter long: and evening falls.
Night, night and winter and the heavy snow
Burden our eyes, intrude upon our dreams,
And make of loneliness an earthly place.

ORMILD
This bragging land of freedom that enthralls me
Is still the fastness of a secret king
Who treads the dark like snow, of old king Sleep.
He works with night, he has stolen death's tool frost
That makes the breaking wave forget to fall.

ASTRID
Best mind thy comb-pot and forget our king
Before the Longcoat helps at thy awaking....
I like not this forsaken quiet house.
The housemen out at harvest in the Isles
Never return. Perhaps they went but now,
Yet I am sore with fearing and expecting
Because they do not come. They will not come.
I like not this forsaken quiet house,
This late last harvest, and night creeping in.

ODDNY
I like not dwelling in an outlaw's house.
Snow shall be heavier upon some eyes
Than you can tell of--ay, and unseen earth
Shall keep that snow from filling those poor eyes.
This void house is more void by brooding things
That do not happen, than by absent men.
Sometimes when I awaken in the night
My throbbing ears are mocking me with rumours
Of crackling beams, beams falling, and loud flames.

ASTRID (_pointing to the weapons by the high-seat_)
The bill that Gunnar won in a far sea-fight
Sings inwardly when battle impends; as a harp
Replies to the wind, thus answers it to fierceness,
So tense its nature is and the spell of its welding;
Then trust ye well that while the bill is silent
No danger thickens, for Gunnar dies not singly.

STEINVOR
But women are let forth free when men go burning?

ODDNY
Fire is a hurrying thing, and fire by night
Can see its way better than men see theirs.

ASTRID
The land will not be nobler or more holpen
If Gunnar burns and we go forth unsinged.
Why will he break the atonement that was set?
That wise old Njal who has the second sight
Foretold his death if he should slay twice over
In the same kin, or break the atonement set:
Yet has he done these things and will not care.
Kolskegg, who kept his back in famous fights,
Sailed long ago and far away from us
Because that doom is on him for the slayings;
Yet Gunnar bides although that doom is on him
And he is outlawed by defiance of doom.