He has put a sudden
darkness
over the moon.
Yeats
It may be that the ever-living know it--
No mortal can.
FORGAEL.
Yes; if they give us help.
AIBRIC.
They are besotting you as they besot
The crazy herdsman that will tell his fellows
That he has been all night upon the hills,
Riding to hurley, or in the battle-host
With the ever-living.
FORGAEL.
What if he speak the truth,
And for a dozen hours have been a part
Of that more powerful life?
AIBRIC.
His wife knows better.
Has she not seen him lying like a log,
Or fumbling in a dream about the house?
And if she hear him mutter of wild riders,
She knows that it was but the cart-horse coughing
That set him to the fancy.
FORGAEL.
All would be well
Could we but give us wholly to the dreams,
And get into their world that to the sense
Is shadow, and not linger wretchedly
Among substantial things; for it is dreams
That lift us to the flowing, changing world
That the heart longs for. What is love itself,
Even though it be the lightest of light love,
But dreams that hurry from beyond the world
To make low laughter more than meat and drink,
Though it but set us sighing? Fellow-wanderer,
Could we but mix ourselves into a dream,
Not in its image on the mirror!
AIBRIC.
While
We're in the body that's impossible.
FORGAEL.
And yet I cannot think they're leading me
To death; for they that promised to me love
As those that can outlive the moon have known it,
Had the world's total life gathered up, it seemed,
Into their shining limbs--I've had great teachers.
Aengus and Edain ran up out of the wave--
You'd never doubt that it was life they promised
Had you looked on them face to face as I did,
With so red lips, and running on such feet,
And having such wide-open, shining eyes.
AIBRIC.
It's certain they are leading you to death.
None but the dead, or those that never lived,
Can know that ecstasy. Forgael! Forgael!
They have made you follow the man-headed birds,
And you have told me that their journey lies
Towards the country of the dead.
FORGAEL.
What matter
If I am going to my death, for there,
Or somewhere, I shall find the love they have promised.
That much is certain. I shall find a woman,
One of the ever-living, as I think--
One of the laughing people--and she and I
Shall light upon a place in the world's core,
Where passion grows to be a changeless thing,
Like charmed apples made of chrysoprase,
Or chrysoberyl, or beryl, or chrysolite;
And there, in juggleries of sight and sense,
Become one movement, energy, delight,
Until the overburthened moon is dead.
[_A number of SAILORS enter hurriedly. _]
FIRST SAILOR.
Look there! there in the mist! a ship of spice!
And we are almost on her!
SECOND SAILOR.
We had not known
But for the ambergris and sandalwood.
FIRST SAILOR.
No; but opoponax and cinnamon.
FORGAEL.
[_Taking the tiller from AIBRIC. _]
The ever-living have kept my bargain for me,
And paid you on the nail.
AIBRIC.
Take up that rope
To make her fast while we are plundering her.
FIRST SAILOR.
There is a king and queen upon her deck,
And where there is one woman there'll be others.
AIBRIC.
Speak lower, or they'll hear.
FIRST SAILOR.
They cannot hear;
They are too busy with each other. Look!
He has stooped down and kissed her on the lips.
SECOND SAILOR.
When she finds out we have better men aboard
She may not be too sorry in the end.
FIRST SAILOR.
She will be like a wild cat; for these queens
Care more about the kegs of silver and gold,
And the high fame that come to them in marriage,
Than a strong body and a ready hand.
SECOND SAILOR.
There's nobody is natural but a robber,
And that is why the world totters about
Upon its bandy legs.
AIBRIC.
Run at them now,
And overpower the crew while yet asleep!
[_The SAILORS go out. _
[_Voices and the clashing of swords are heard from the
other ship, which cannot be seen because of the sail. _
A VOICE.
Armed men have come upon us! O, I am slain!
ANOTHER VOICE.
Wake all below!
ANOTHER VOICE.
Why have you broken our sleep?
FIRST VOICE.
Armed men have come upon us! O, I am slain!
FORGAEL.
[_Who has remained at the tiller. _]
There! there they come! Gull, gannet, or diver,
But with a man's head, or a fair woman's,
They hover over the masthead awhile
To wait their friends; but when their friends have come
They'll fly upon that secret way of theirs.
One--and one--a couple--five together;
And I will hear them talking in a minute.
Yes, voices! but I do not catch the words.
Now I can hear. There's one of them that says:
'How light we are, now we are changed to birds! '
Another answers: 'Maybe we shall find
Our heart's desire now that we are so light. '
And then one asks another how he died,
And says: 'A sword-blade pierced me in my sleep. '
And now they all wheel suddenly and fly
To the other side, and higher in the air.
And now a laggard with a woman's head
Comes crying, 'I have run upon the sword.
I have fled to my beloved in the air,
In the waste of the high air, that we may wander
Among the windy meadows of the dawn. '
But why are they still waiting? why are they
Circling and circling over the masthead?
What power that is more mighty than desire
To hurry to their hidden happiness
Withholds them now? Have the ever-living ones
A meaning in that circling overhead?
But what's the meaning? [_He cries out. _] Why do you linger there?
Why do you not run to your desire,
Now that you have happy winged bodies?
[_His voice sinks again. _
Being too busy in the air and the high air,
They cannot hear my voice; but what's the meaning?
[_The SAILORS have returned. DECTORA is with them. She
is dressed in pale green, with copper ornaments on her
dress, and has a copper crown upon her head. Her hair
is dull red. _
FORGAEL.
[_Turning and seeing her. _]
Why are you standing with your eyes upon me?
You are not the world's core. O no, no, no!
That cannot be the meaning of the birds.
You are not its core. My teeth are in the world,
But have not bitten yet.
DECTORA.
I am a queen,
And ask for satisfaction upon these
Who have slain my husband and laid hands upon me.
[_Breaking loose from the SAILORS who are holding her. _]
Let go my hands!
FORGAEL.
Why do you cast a shadow?
Where do you come from? Who brought you to this place?
They would not send me one that casts a shadow.
DECTORA.
Would that the storm that overthrew my ships,
And drowned the treasures of nine conquered nations,
And blew me hither to my lasting sorrow,
Had drowned me also. But, being yet alive,
I ask a fitting punishment for all
That raised their hands against him.
FORGAEL.
There are some
That weigh and measure all in these waste seas--
They that have all the wisdom that's in life,
And all that prophesying images
Made of dim gold rave out in secret tombs;
They have it that the plans of kings and queens
Are dust on the moth's wing; that nothing matters
But laughter and tears--laughter, laughter, and tears;
That every man should carry his own soul
Upon his shoulders.
DECTORA.
You've nothing but wild words,
And I would know if you will give me vengeance.
FORGAEL.
When she finds out I will not let her go--
When she knows that.
DECTORA.
What is it that you are muttering--
That you'll not let me go? I am a queen.
FORGAEL.
Although you are more beautiful than any,
I almost long that it were possible;
But if I were to put you on that ship,
With sailors that were sworn to do your will,
And you had spread a sail for home, a wind
Would rise of a sudden, or a wave so huge,
It had washed among the stars and put them out,
And beat the bulwark of your ship on mine,
Until you stood before me on the deck--
As now.
DECTORA.
Does wandering in these desolate seas
And listening to the cry of wind and wave
Bring madness?
FORGAEL.
Queen, I am not mad.
DECTORA.
And yet you say the water and the wind
Would rise against me.
FORGAEL.
No, I am not mad--
If it be not that hearing messages
From lasting watchers, that outlive the moon,
At the most quiet midnight is to be stricken.
DECTORA.
And did those watchers bid you take me captive?
FORGAEL.
Both you and I are taken in the net.
It was their hands that plucked the winds awake
And blew you hither; and their mouths have promised
I shall have love in their immortal fashion.
They gave me that old harp of the nine spells
That is more mighty than the sun and moon,
Or than the shivering casting-net of the stars,
That none might take you from me.
DECTORA.
[_First trembling back from the mast where the harp is,
and then laughing. _]
For a moment
Your raving of a message and a harp
More mighty than the stars half troubled me.
But all that's raving. Who is there can compel
The daughter and granddaughter of kings
To be his bedfellow?
FORGAEL.
Until your lips
Have called me their beloved, I'll not kiss them.
DECTORA.
My husband and my king died at my feet,
And yet you talk of love.
FORGAEL.
The movement of time
Is shaken in these seas, and what one does
One moment has no might upon the moment
That follows after.
DECTORA.
I understand you now.
You have a Druid craft of wicked sound
Wrung from the cold women of the sea--
A magic that can call a demon up,
Until my body give you kiss for kiss.
FORGAEL.
Your soul shall give the kiss.
DECTORA.
I am not afraid,
While there's a rope to run into a noose
Or wave to drown. But I have done with words,
And I would have you look into my face
And know that it is fearless.
FORGAEL.
Do what you will,
For neither I nor you can break a mesh
Of the great golden net that is about us.
DECTORA.
There's nothing in the world that's worth a fear.
[_She passes FORGAEL and stands for a moment looking
into his face. _
I have good reason for that thought.
[_She runs suddenly on to the raised part of the poop. _
And now
I can put fear away as a queen should.
[_She mounts on to the bulwark and turns towards
FORGAEL. _
Fool, fool! Although you have looked into my face
You do not see my purpose. I shall have gone
Before a hand can touch me.
FORGAEL [_folding his arms_].
My hands are still;
The ever-living hold us. Do what you will,
You cannot leap out of the golden net.
FIRST SAILOR.
No need to drown, for, if you will pardon us
And measure out a course and bring us home,
We'll put this man to death.
DECTORA.
I promise it.
FIRST SAILOR.
There is none to take his side.
AIBRIC.
I am on his side.
I'll strike a blow for him to give him time
To cast his dreams away.
[_AIBRIC goes in front of FORGAEL with drawn sword.
FORGAEL takes the harp. _
FIRST SAILOR.
No other'll do it.
[_The SAILORS throw AIBRIC on one side. He falls upon
the deck towards the poop. They lift their swords to
strike FORGAEL, who is about to play the harp. The
stage begins to darken. The SAILORS hesitate in fear. _
SECOND SAILOR.
He has put a sudden darkness over the moon.
DECTORA.
Nine swords with handles of rhinoceros horn
To him that strikes him first!
FIRST SAILOR.
I will strike him first.
[_He goes close up to FORGAEL with his sword lifted.
The harp begins to give out a faint light. The scene
has become so dark that the only light is from the
harp. _
[_Shrinking back. _] He has caught the crescent moon out of the sky,
And carries it between us.
SECOND SAILOR.
Holy fire
Has come into the jewels of the harp
To burn us to the marrow if we strike.
DECTORA.
I'll give a golden galley full of fruit,
That has the heady flavour of new wine,
To him that wounds him to the death.
FIRST SAILOR.
I'll do it.
For all his spells will vanish when he dies,
Having their life in him.
SECOND SAILOR.
Though it be the moon
That he is holding up between us there,
I will strike at him.
THE OTHERS.
And I! And I! And I!
[_FORGAEL plays the harp. _
FIRST SAILOR.
[_Falling into a dream suddenly. _]
But you were saying there is somebody
Upon that other ship we are to wake.
You did not know what brought him to his end,
But it was sudden.
SECOND SAILOR.
You are in the right;
I had forgotten that we must go wake him.
DECTORA.
He has flung a Druid spell upon the air,
And set you dreaming.
SECOND SAILOR.
How can we have a wake
When we have neither brown nor yellow ale?
FIRST SAILOR.
I saw a flagon of brown ale aboard her.
THIRD SAILOR.
How can we raise the keen that do not know
What name to call him by?
FIRST SAILOR.
Come to his ship.
His name will come into our thoughts in a minute.
I know that he died a thousand years ago,
And has not yet been waked.
SECOND SAILOR [_beginning to keen_].
Ohone! O! O! O!
The yew bough has been broken into two,
And all the birds are scattered.
ALL THE SAILORS.
O! O! O! O!
[_They go out keening. _
DECTORA.
Protect me now, gods, that my people swear by.
[_AIBRIC has risen from the ground where he had fallen.
He has begun looking for his sword as if in a dream. _
AIBRIC.
Where is my sword that fell out of my hand
When I first heard the news? Ah, there it is!
[_He goes dreamily towards the sword, but DECTORA runs
at it and takes it up before he can reach it. _
AIBRIC [_sleepily_].
Queen, give it me.
DECTORA.
No, I have need of it.
AIBRIC.
Why do you need a sword? But you may keep it,
Now that he's dead I have no need of it,
For everything is gone.
A SAILOR.
[_Calling from the other ship. _]
Come hither, Aibric,
And tell me who it is that we are waking.
AIBRIC.
[_Half to DECTORA, half to himself. _]
What name had that dead king? Arthur of Britain?
No, no--not Arthur. I remember now.
It was golden-armed Iollan, and he died
Brokenhearted, having lost his queen
Through wicked spells. That is not all the tale,
For he was killed. O! O! O! O! O! O!
For golden-armed Iollan has been killed.
[_He goes out. _
[_While he has been speaking, and through part of what
follows, one hears the wailing of the SAILORS from the
other ship. DECTORA stands with the sword lifted in
front of FORGAEL. _
DECTORA.
I will end all your magic on the instant.
[_Her voice becomes dreamy, and she lowers the sword
slowly, and finally lets it fall. She spreads out her
hair. She takes off her crown and lays it upon the
deck. _
This sword is to lie beside him in the grave.
It was in all his battles. I will spread my hair,
And wring my hands, and wail him bitterly,
For I have heard that he was proud and laughing,
Blue-eyed, and a quick runner on bare feet,
And that he died a thousand years ago.
O! O! O!
[_FORGAEL changes the tune. _
But no, that is not it.
I knew him well, and while I heard him laughing
They killed him at my feet. O! O! O! O!
For golden-armed Iollan that I loved.
But what is it that made me say I loved him?
It was that harper put it in my thoughts,
But it is true. Why did they run upon him,
And beat the golden helmet with their swords?
FORGAEL.
Do you not know me, lady? I am he
That you are weeping for.
DECTORA.
No, for he is dead.
O! O! O! for golden-armed Iollan.
FORGAEL.
It was so given out, but I will prove
That the grave-diggers in a dreamy frenzy
Have buried nothing but my golden arms.
Listen to that low-laughing string of the moon
And you will recollect my face and voice,
For you have listened to me playing it
These thousand years.
[_He starts up, listening to the birds. The harp
slips from his hands, and remains leaning
against the bulwarks behind him. The light
goes out of it. _
What are the birds at there?
Why are they all a-flutter of a sudden?
What are you calling out above the mast?
If railing and reproach and mockery
Because I have awakened her to love
My magic strings, I'll make this answer to it:
Being driven on by voices and by dreams
That were clear messages from the ever-living,
I have done right. What could I but obey?
And yet you make a clamour of reproach.
DECTORA [_laughing_].
Why, it's a wonder out of reckoning
That I should keen him from the full of the moon
To the horn, and he be hale and hearty.
FORGAEL.
How have I wronged her now that she is merry?
But no, no, no! your cry is not against me.
You know the councils of the ever-living,
And all that tossing of your wings is joy,
And all that murmuring's but a marriage song;
But if it be reproach, I answer this:
There is not one among you that made love
By any other means. You call it passion,
Consideration, generosity;
But it was all deceit, and flattery
To win a woman in her own despite,
For love is war, and there is hatred in it;
And if you say that she came willingly--
DECTORA.
Why do you turn away and hide your face,
That I would look upon for ever?
FORGAEL.
My grief.
DECTORA.
Have I not loved you for a thousand years?
FORGAEL.
I never have been golden-armed Iollan.
DECTORA.
I do not understand. I know your face
Better than my own hands.
FORGAEL.
I have deceived you
Out of all reckoning.
DECTORA.
Is it not true
That you were born a thousand years ago,
In islands where the children of Aengus wind
In happy dances under a windy moon,
And that you'll bring me there?
FORGAEL.
I have deceived you;
I have deceived you utterly.
DECTORA.
How can that be?
Is it that though your eyes are full of love
Some other woman has a claim on you,
And I've but half?
FORGAEL.
Oh, no!
DECTORA.
And if there is,
If there be half a hundred more, what matter?
I'll never give another thought to it;
No, no, nor half a thought; but do not speak.
Women are hard and proud and stubborn-hearted,
Their heads being turned with praise and flattery;
And that is why their lovers are afraid
To tell them a plain story.
FORGAEL.
That's not the story;
But I have done so great a wrong against you,
There is no measure that it would not burst.
I will confess it all.
DECTORA.
What do I care,
Now that my body has begun to dream,
And you have grown to be a burning sod
In the imagination and intellect?
If something that's most fabulous were true--
If you had taken me by magic spells,
And killed a lover or husband at my feet--
I would not let you speak, for I would know
That it was yesterday and not to-day
I loved him; I would cover up my ears,
As I am doing now. [_A pause. _] Why do you weep?
FORGAEL.
I weep because I've nothing for your eyes
But desolate waters and a battered ship.
DECTORA.
O, why do you not lift your eyes to mine?
FORGAEL.
I weep--I weep because bare night's above,
And not a roof of ivory and gold.
DECTORA.
I would grow jealous of the ivory roof,
And strike the golden pillars with my hands.
I would that there was nothing in the world
But my beloved--that night and day had perished,
And all that is and all that is to be,
All that is not the meeting of our lips.
FORGAEL.
I too, I too. Why do you look away?
Am I to fear the waves, or is the moon
My enemy?
DECTORA.
I looked upon the moon,
Longing to knead and pull it into shape
That I might lay it on your head as a crown.
But now it is your thoughts that wander away,
For you are looking at the sea. Do you not know
How great a wrong it is to let one's thought
Wander a moment when one is in love?
[_He has moved away. She follows him. He is
looking out over the sea, shading his eyes. _]
Why are you looking at the sea?
FORGAEL.
Look there!
DECTORA.
What is there but a troop of ash-grey birds
That fly into the west?
FORGAEL.
But listen, listen!
