Have I not opened school on these bare steps,
And are not you the youngest of my scholars?
And are not you the youngest of my scholars?
Yeats
F.
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Title: Works of W. B. Yeats, Vol 2
The King's Threshold. On Baile's Strand. Deirdre. Shadowy Waters
Author: William Butler Yeats
Release Date: August 5, 2015 [EBook #49609]
Language: English
Character set encoding: UTF-8
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF W. B. YEATS, VOL 2 ***
Produced by Emmy, mollypit and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www. pgdp. net (This file was
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THE COLLECTED WORKS OF WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
THE KING'S THRESHOLD. ON
BAILE'S STRAND. DEIRDRE.
SHADOWY WATERS :: BEING
THE SECOND VOLUME OF
THE COLLECTED WORKS IN
VERSE & PROSE OF WILLIAM
BUTLER YEATS :: IMPRINTED
AT THE SHAKESPEARE HEAD
PRESS STRATFORD-ON-AVON
MCMVIII
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE KING'S THRESHOLD 1
ON BAILE'S STRAND 69
DEIRDRE 125
THE SHADOWY WATERS 179
APPENDIX I:
ACTING VERSION OF 'THE SHADOWY WATERS' 231
APPENDIX II:
A DIFFERENT VERSION OF DEIRDRE'S ENTRANCE 251
APPENDIX III:
THE LEGENDARY AND MYTHOLOGICAL FOUNDATION OF THE PLAYS 254
APPENDIX IV:
THE DATES AND PLACES OF PERFORMANCE OF PLAYS 256
_The friends that have it I do wrong
When ever I remake a song,
Should know what issue is at stake:
It is myself that I remake. _
THE KING'S THRESHOLD
TO FRANK FAY
BECAUSE OF HIS BEAUTIFUL SPEAKING IN
THE CHARACTER OF SEANCHAN
_PERSONS IN THE PLAY_
KING GUAIRE
SEANCHAN (_pronounced_ SHANAHAN)
HIS PUPILS
THE MAYOR OF KINVARA
TWO CRIPPLES
BRIAN (_an old servant_)
THE LORD HIGH CHAMBERLAIN
A SOLDIER
A MONK
COURT LADIES
TWO PRINCESSES
FEDELM
THE KING'S THRESHOLD.
_Steps before the Palace of KING GUAIRE at Gort. A
table in front of steps at one side, with food on it,
and a bench by table. SEANCHAN lying on steps. PUPILS
before steps. KING on the upper step before a curtained
door. _
KING.
I WELCOME you that have the mastery
Of the two kinds of Music: the one kind
Being like a woman, the other like a man.
Both you that understand stringed instruments,
And how to mingle words and notes together
So artfully, that all the Art's but Speech
Delighted with its own music; and you that carry
The long twisted horn, and understand
The heady notes that, being without words,
Can hurry beyond Time and Fate and Change.
For the high angels that drive the horse of Time--
The golden one by day, by night the silver--
Are not more welcome to one that loves the world
For some fair woman's sake.
I have called you hither
To save the life of your great master, Seanchan,
For all day long it has flamed up or flickered
To the fast cooling hearth.
OLDEST PUPIL.
When did he sicken?
Is it a fever that is wasting him?
KING.
No fever or sickness. He has chosen death:
Refusing to eat or drink, that he may bring
Disgrace upon me; for there is a custom,
An old and foolish custom, that if a man
Be wronged, or think that he is wronged, and starve
Upon another's threshold till he die,
The common people, for all time to come,
Will raise a heavy cry against that threshold,
Even though it be the King's.
OLDEST PUPIL.
My head whirls round;
I do not know what I am to think or say.
I owe you all obedience, and yet
How can I give it, when the man I have loved
More than all others, thinks that he is wronged
So bitterly, that he will starve and die
Rather than bear it? Is there any man
Will throw his life away for a light issue?
KING.
It is but fitting that you take his side
Until you understand how light an issue
Has put us by the ears. Three days ago
I yielded to the outcry of my courtiers--
Bishops, Soldiers, and Makers of the Law--
Who long had thought it against their dignity
For a mere man of words to sit amongst them
At my own table. When the meal was spread,
I ordered Seanchan to a lower table;
And when he pleaded for the poets' right,
Established at the establishment of the world,
I said that I was King, and that all rights
Had their original fountain in some king,
And that it was the men who ruled the world,
And not the men who sang to it, who should sit
Where there was the most honour. My courtiers--
Bishops, Soldiers, and Makers of the Law--
Shouted approval; and amid that noise
Seanchan went out, and from that hour to this,
Although there is good food and drink beside him,
Has eaten nothing.
OLDEST PUPIL.
I can breathe again.
You have taken a great burden from my mind,
For that old custom's not worth dying for.
KING.
Persuade him to eat or drink. Till yesterday
I thought that hunger and weakness had been enough;
But finding them too trifling and too light
To hold his mouth from biting at the grave,
I called you hither, and all my hope's in you,
And certain of his neighbours and good friends
That I have sent for. While he is lying there
Perishing, my good name in the world
Is perishing also. I cannot give way,
Because I am King. Because if I gave way,
My Nobles would call me a weakling, and it may be
The very throne be shaken.
OLDEST PUPIL.
I will persuade him.
Your words had been enough persuasion, King;
But being lost in sleep or reverie,
He cannot hear them.
KING.
Make him eat or drink.
Nor is it all because of my good name
I'd have him do it, for he is a man
That might well hit the fancy of a king,
Banished out of his country, or a woman's,
Or any other's that can judge a man
For what he is. But I that sit a throne,
And take my measure from the needs of the State,
Call his wild thought that overruns the measure,
Making words more than deeds, and his proud will
That would unsettle all, most mischievous,
And he himself a most mischievous man.
[_He turns to go, and then returns again. _
Promise a house with grass and tillage land,
An annual payment, jewels and silken ware,
Or anything but that old right of the poets.
[_He goes into palace. _
OLDEST PUPIL.
The King did wrong to abrogate our right;
But Seanchan, who talks of dying for it,
Talks foolishly. Look at us, Seanchan;
Waken out of your dream and look at us,
Who have ridden under the moon and all the day,
Until the moon has all but come again,
That we might be beside you.
SEANCHAN.
[_Half turning round, leaning on his elbow, and
speaking as if in a dream. _]
I was but now
In Almhuin, in a great high-raftered house,
With Finn and Osgar. Odours of roast flesh
Rose round me, and I saw the roasting-spits;
And then the dream was broken, and I saw
Grania dividing salmon by a stream.
OLDEST PUPIL.
Hunger has made you dream of roasting flesh;
And though I all but weep to think of it,
The hunger of the crane, that starves himself
At the full moon because he is afraid
Of his own shadow and the glittering water,
Seems to me little more fantastical
Than this of yours.
SEANCHAN.
Why, that's the very truth.
It is as though the moon changed everything--
Myself and all that I can hear and see;
For when the heavy body has grown weak,
There's nothing that can tether the wild mind
That, being moonstruck and fantastical,
Goes where it fancies. I had even thought
I knew your voice and face, but now the words
Are so unlikely that I needs must ask
Who is it that bids me put my hunger by.
OLDEST PUPIL.
I am your oldest pupil, Seanchan;
The one that has been with you many years--
So many, that you said at Candlemas
That I had almost done with school, and knew
All but all that poets understand.
SEANCHAN.
My oldest pupil? No, that cannot be,
For it is some one of the courtly crowds
That have been round about me from sunrise,
And I am tricked by dreams; but I'll refute them.
At Candlemas I bid that pupil tell me
Why poetry is honoured, wishing to know
If he had any weighty argument
For distant countries and strange, churlish kings.
What did he answer?
OLDEST PUPIL.
I said the poets hung
Images of the life that was in Eden
About the child-bed of the world, that it,
Looking upon those images, might bear
Triumphant children. But why must I stand here,
Repeating an old lesson, while you starve?
SEANCHAN.
Tell on, for I begin to know the voice.
What evil thing will come upon the world
If the Arts perish?
OLDEST PUPIL.
If the Arts should perish,
The world that lacked them would be like a woman,
That looking on the cloven lips of a hare,
Brings forth a hare-lipped child.
SEANCHAN.
But that's not all:
For when I asked you how a man should guard
Those images, you had an answer also,
If you're the man that you have claimed to be,
Comparing them to venerable things
God gave to men before he gave them wheat.
OLDEST PUPIL.
I answered--and the word was half your own--
That he should guard them as the Men of Dea
Guard their four treasures, as the Grail King guards
His holy cup, or the pale, righteous horse
The jewel that is underneath his horn,
Pouring out life for it as one pours out
Sweet heady wine. . . . But now I understand;
You would refute me out of my own mouth;
And yet a place at table, near the King,
Is nothing of great moment, Seanchan.
How does so light a thing touch poetry?
[_SEANCHAN is now sitting up. He still looks dreamily
in front of him. _
SEANCHAN.
At Candlemas you called this poetry
One of the fragile, mighty things of God,
That die at an insult.
OLDEST PUPIL.
[_To other PUPILS. _]
Give me some true answer,
For on that day we spoke about the Court,
And said that all that was insulted there
The world insulted, for the Courtly life,
Being the first comely child of the world,
Is the world's model. How shall I answer him?
Can you not give me some true argument?
I will not tempt him with a lying one.
YOUNGEST PUPIL.
O, tell him that the lovers of his music
Have need of him.
SEANCHAN.
But I am labouring
For some that shall be born in the nick o' time,
And find sweet nurture, that they may have voices,
Even in anger, like the strings of harps;
And how could they be born to majesty
If I had never made the golden cradle?
YOUNGEST PUPIL.
[_Throwing himself at SEANCHAN'S feet. _]
Why did you take me from my father's fields?
If you would leave me now, what shall I love?
Where shall I go? What shall I set my hand to?
And why have you put music in my ears,
If you would send me to the clattering houses?
I will throw down the trumpet and the harp,
For how could I sing verses or make music
With none to praise me, and a broken heart?
SEANCHAN.
What was it that the poets promised you,
If it was not their sorrow? Do not speak.
Have I not opened school on these bare steps,
And are not you the youngest of my scholars?
And I would have all know that when all falls
In ruin, poetry calls out in joy,
Being the scattering hand, the bursting pod,
The victim's joy among the holy flame,
God's laughter at the shattering of the world.
And now that joy laughs out, and weeps and burns
On these bare steps.
YOUNGEST PUPIL.
O master, do not die!
OLDEST PUPIL.
Trouble him with no useless argument.
Be silent! There is nothing we can do
Except find out the King and kneel to him,
And beg our ancient right.
For here are some
To say whatever we could say and more,
And fare as badly. Come, boy, that is no use.
[_Raises YOUNGEST PUPIL. _
If it seem well that we beseech the King,
Lay down your harps and trumpets on the stones
In silence, and come with me silently.
Come with slow footfalls, and bow all your heads,
For a bowed head becomes a mourner best.
[_They lay harps and trumpets down one by one, and then
go out very solemnly and slowly, following one another.
Enter MAYOR, TWO CRIPPLES, and BRIAN, an old servant.
The mayor, who has been heard, before he came upon
the stage, muttering _'Chief Poet,' 'Ireland,' etc. _,
crosses in front of SEANCHAN to the other side of the
steps. BRIAN takes food out of basket. The CRIPPLES are
watching the basket. The MAYOR has an Ogham stick in
his hand. _
MAYOR.
[_As he crosses. _]
'Chief Poet,' 'Ireland,' 'Townsman,' 'Grazing land,'
Those are the words I have to keep in mind--
'Chief Poet,' 'Ireland,' 'Townsman,' 'Grazing land. '
I have the words. They are all upon the Ogham.
'Chief Poet,' 'Ireland,' 'Townsman,' 'Grazing land. '
But what's their order?
[_He keeps muttering over his speech during what
follows. _
FIRST CRIPPLE.
The King were rightly served
If Seanchan drove his good luck away.
What's there about a king, that's in the world
From birth to burial like another man,
That he should change old customs, that were in it
As long as ever the world has been a world?
SECOND CRIPPLE.
If I were king I would not meddle with him,
For there is something queer about a poet.
I knew of one that would be making rhyme
Under a thorn at crossing of three roads.
He was as ragged as ourselves, and yet
He was no sooner dead than every thorn tree
From Inchy to Kiltartan withered away.
FIRST CRIPPLE.
The King is but a fool!
MAYOR.
I am getting ready.
FIRST CRIPPLE.
A poet has power from beyond the world,
That he may set our thoughts upon old times,
And lucky queens and little holy fish
That rise up every seventh year----
MAYOR.
Hush! hush!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
To cure the crippled.
MAYOR.
I am half ready now.
BRIAN.
There's not a mischief I'd begrudge the King
If it were any other----
MAYOR.
Hush! I am ready.
BRIAN.
That died to get it. I have brought out the food,
And if my master will not eat of it,
I'll home and get provision for his wake,
For that's no great way off. Well, have your say,
But don't be long about it.
MAYOR.
[_Goes close to SEANCHAN. _]
Chief Poet of Ireland,
I am the Mayor of your own town Kinvara,
And I am come to tell you that the news
Of this great trouble with the King of Gort
Has plunged us in deep sorrow--part for you,
Our honoured townsman, part for our good town.
[_Begins to hesitate; scratching his head. _
But what comes now? Something about the King.
BRIAN.
Get on! get on! The food is all set out.
MAYOR.
Don't hurry me.
FIRST CRIPPLE.
Give us a taste of it.
He'll not begrudge it.
SECOND CRIPPLE.
Let them that have their limbs
Starve if they will. We have to keep in mind
The stomach God has left us.
MAYOR.
Hush! I have it!
The King was said to be most friendly to us,
And we have reason, as you'll recollect,
For thinking that he was about to give
Those grazing lands inland we so much need,
Being pinched between the water and the stones.
Our mowers mow with knives between the stones;
The sea washes the meadows. You know well
We have asked nothing but what's reasonable.
SEANCHAN.
Reason in plenty. Yellowy white hair,
A hollow face, and not too many teeth.
How comes it he has been so long in the world
And not found Reason out?
[_While saying this he has turned half round. He hardly
looks at the MAYOR. _
BRIAN.
[_Trying to pull MAYOR away. _]
What good is there
In telling him what he has heard all day!
I will set food before him.
MAYOR.
[_Shoving BRIAN away. _]
Don't hurry me!
It's small respect you're showing to the town!
Get farther off! [_To SEANCHAN. _] We would not have you think,
Weighty as these considerations are,
That they have been as weighty in our minds
As our desire that one we take much pride in,
A man that's been an honour to our town,
Should live and prosper; therefore we beseech you
To give way in a matter of no moment,
A matter of mere sentiment--a trifle--
That we may always keep our pride in you.
[_He finishes this speech with a pompous air, motions
to BRIAN to bring the food to SEANCHAN, and sits on
seat. _
BRIAN.
Master, master, eat this! It's not king's food,
That's cooked for everybody and nobody.
Here's barley-bread out of your father's oven,
And dulse from Duras. Here is the dulse, your honour;
It's wholesome, and has the good taste of the sea.
[_Takes dulse in one hand and bread in other and
presses them into SEANCHAN'S hands. SEANCHAN shows by
his movement his different feeling to BRIAN. _
FIRST CRIPPLE.
He has taken it, and there'll be nothing left!
SECOND CRIPPLE.
Nothing at all; he wanted his own sort.
What's honey to a cat, corn to a dog,
Or a green apple to a ghost in a churchyard?
SEANCHAN.
[_Pressing food back into BRIAN'S hands. _]
Eat it yourself, for you have come a journey,
And it may be eat nothing on the way.
BRIAN.
How could I eat it, and your honour starving!
It is your father sends it, and he cried
Because the stiffness that is in his bones
Prevented him from coming, and bid me tell you
That he is old, that he has need of you,
And that the people will be pointing at him,
And he not able to lift up his head,
If you should turn the King's favour away;
And he adds to it, that he cared you well,
And you in your young age, and that it's right
That you should care him now.
SEANCHAN.
[_Who is now interested. _]
And is that all?
What did my mother say?
BRIAN.
She gave no message;
For when they told her you had it in mind to starve,
Or get again the ancient right of the poets,
She said: 'No message can do any good.
He will not send the answer that you want.
We cannot change him. ' And she went indoors,
Lay down upon the bed, and turned her face
Out of the light. And thereupon your father
Said: 'Tell him that his mother sends no message,
Albeit broken down and miserable. ' [_A pause. _
Here's a pigeon's egg from Duras, and these others
Were laid by your own hens.
SEANCHAN.
She has sent no message.
Our mothers know us; they know us to the bone.
They knew us before birth, and that is why
They know us even better than the sweethearts
Upon whose breasts we have lain.
Go quickly! Go
And tell them that my mother was in the right.
There is no answer. Go and tell them that.
Go tell them that she knew me.
MAYOR.
What is he saying?
I never understood a poet's talk
More than the baa of a sheep!
[_Comes over from seat. SEANCHAN turns away. _
You have not heard,
It may be, having been so much away,
How many of the cattle died last winter
From lacking grass, and that there was much sickness
Because the poor have nothing but salt fish
To live on through the winter?
BRIAN.
Get away,
And leave the place to me! It's my turn now,
For your sack's empty!
MAYOR.
Is it 'get away'!
Is that the way I'm to be spoken to!
Am I not Mayor? Amn't I authority?
Amn't I in the King's place? Answer me that!
BRIAN.
Then show the people what a king is like:
Pull down old merings and root custom up,
Whitewash the dunghills, fatten hogs and geese,
Hang your gold chain about an ass's neck,
And burn the blessed thorn trees out of the fields,
And drive what's comely away!
MAYOR.
Holy Saint Coleman!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
Fine talk! fine talk! What else does the King do?
He fattens hogs and drives the poet away!
SECOND CRIPPLE.
He starves the song-maker!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
He fattens geese!
MAYOR.
How dare you take his name into your mouth!
How dare you lift your voice against the King!
What would we be without him?
BRIAN.
Why do you praise him?
I will have nobody speak well of him,
Or any other king that robs my master.
MAYOR.
And had he not the right to? and the right
To strike your master's head off, being the King,
Or yours or mine? I say, 'Long live the King!
Because he does not take our heads from us. '
Call out, 'Long life to him! '
BRIAN.
Call out for him!
[_Speaking at same time with MAYOR. _
There's nobody'll call out for him,
But smiths will turn their anvils,
The millers turn their wheels,
The farmers turn their churns,
The witches turn their thumbs,
'Till he be broken and splintered into pieces.
MAYOR.
[_At same time with BRIAN. _]
He might, if he'd a mind to it,
Be digging out our tongues,
Or dragging out our hair,
Or bleaching us like calves,
Or weaning us like lambs,
But for the kindness and the softness that is in him.
[_They gasp for breath. _
FIRST CRIPPLE.
I'll curse him till I drop!
[_Speaking at same time as SECOND CRIPPLE and MAYOR and
BRIAN, who have begun again. _
The curse of the poor be upon him,
The curse of the widows upon him,
The curse of the children upon him,
The curse of the bishops upon him,
Until he be as rotten as an old mushroom!
SECOND CRIPPLE.
[_Speaking at same time as FIRST CRIPPLE and MAYOR and
BRIAN. _
The curse of wrinkles be upon him!
Wrinkles where his eyes are,
Wrinkles where his nose is,
Wrinkles where his mouth is,
And a little old devil looking out of every wrinkle!
BRIAN.
[_Speaking at same time with MAYOR and CRIPPLES. _]
And nobody will sing for him,
And nobody will hunt for him,
And nobody will fish for him,
And nobody will pray for him,
But ever and always curse him and abuse him.
MAYOR.
[_Speaking at same time with CRIPPLES and BRIAN. _]
What good is in a poet?
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Title: Works of W. B. Yeats, Vol 2
The King's Threshold. On Baile's Strand. Deirdre. Shadowy Waters
Author: William Butler Yeats
Release Date: August 5, 2015 [EBook #49609]
Language: English
Character set encoding: UTF-8
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF W. B. YEATS, VOL 2 ***
Produced by Emmy, mollypit and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www. pgdp. net (This file was
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THE COLLECTED WORKS OF WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
THE KING'S THRESHOLD. ON
BAILE'S STRAND. DEIRDRE.
SHADOWY WATERS :: BEING
THE SECOND VOLUME OF
THE COLLECTED WORKS IN
VERSE & PROSE OF WILLIAM
BUTLER YEATS :: IMPRINTED
AT THE SHAKESPEARE HEAD
PRESS STRATFORD-ON-AVON
MCMVIII
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE KING'S THRESHOLD 1
ON BAILE'S STRAND 69
DEIRDRE 125
THE SHADOWY WATERS 179
APPENDIX I:
ACTING VERSION OF 'THE SHADOWY WATERS' 231
APPENDIX II:
A DIFFERENT VERSION OF DEIRDRE'S ENTRANCE 251
APPENDIX III:
THE LEGENDARY AND MYTHOLOGICAL FOUNDATION OF THE PLAYS 254
APPENDIX IV:
THE DATES AND PLACES OF PERFORMANCE OF PLAYS 256
_The friends that have it I do wrong
When ever I remake a song,
Should know what issue is at stake:
It is myself that I remake. _
THE KING'S THRESHOLD
TO FRANK FAY
BECAUSE OF HIS BEAUTIFUL SPEAKING IN
THE CHARACTER OF SEANCHAN
_PERSONS IN THE PLAY_
KING GUAIRE
SEANCHAN (_pronounced_ SHANAHAN)
HIS PUPILS
THE MAYOR OF KINVARA
TWO CRIPPLES
BRIAN (_an old servant_)
THE LORD HIGH CHAMBERLAIN
A SOLDIER
A MONK
COURT LADIES
TWO PRINCESSES
FEDELM
THE KING'S THRESHOLD.
_Steps before the Palace of KING GUAIRE at Gort. A
table in front of steps at one side, with food on it,
and a bench by table. SEANCHAN lying on steps. PUPILS
before steps. KING on the upper step before a curtained
door. _
KING.
I WELCOME you that have the mastery
Of the two kinds of Music: the one kind
Being like a woman, the other like a man.
Both you that understand stringed instruments,
And how to mingle words and notes together
So artfully, that all the Art's but Speech
Delighted with its own music; and you that carry
The long twisted horn, and understand
The heady notes that, being without words,
Can hurry beyond Time and Fate and Change.
For the high angels that drive the horse of Time--
The golden one by day, by night the silver--
Are not more welcome to one that loves the world
For some fair woman's sake.
I have called you hither
To save the life of your great master, Seanchan,
For all day long it has flamed up or flickered
To the fast cooling hearth.
OLDEST PUPIL.
When did he sicken?
Is it a fever that is wasting him?
KING.
No fever or sickness. He has chosen death:
Refusing to eat or drink, that he may bring
Disgrace upon me; for there is a custom,
An old and foolish custom, that if a man
Be wronged, or think that he is wronged, and starve
Upon another's threshold till he die,
The common people, for all time to come,
Will raise a heavy cry against that threshold,
Even though it be the King's.
OLDEST PUPIL.
My head whirls round;
I do not know what I am to think or say.
I owe you all obedience, and yet
How can I give it, when the man I have loved
More than all others, thinks that he is wronged
So bitterly, that he will starve and die
Rather than bear it? Is there any man
Will throw his life away for a light issue?
KING.
It is but fitting that you take his side
Until you understand how light an issue
Has put us by the ears. Three days ago
I yielded to the outcry of my courtiers--
Bishops, Soldiers, and Makers of the Law--
Who long had thought it against their dignity
For a mere man of words to sit amongst them
At my own table. When the meal was spread,
I ordered Seanchan to a lower table;
And when he pleaded for the poets' right,
Established at the establishment of the world,
I said that I was King, and that all rights
Had their original fountain in some king,
And that it was the men who ruled the world,
And not the men who sang to it, who should sit
Where there was the most honour. My courtiers--
Bishops, Soldiers, and Makers of the Law--
Shouted approval; and amid that noise
Seanchan went out, and from that hour to this,
Although there is good food and drink beside him,
Has eaten nothing.
OLDEST PUPIL.
I can breathe again.
You have taken a great burden from my mind,
For that old custom's not worth dying for.
KING.
Persuade him to eat or drink. Till yesterday
I thought that hunger and weakness had been enough;
But finding them too trifling and too light
To hold his mouth from biting at the grave,
I called you hither, and all my hope's in you,
And certain of his neighbours and good friends
That I have sent for. While he is lying there
Perishing, my good name in the world
Is perishing also. I cannot give way,
Because I am King. Because if I gave way,
My Nobles would call me a weakling, and it may be
The very throne be shaken.
OLDEST PUPIL.
I will persuade him.
Your words had been enough persuasion, King;
But being lost in sleep or reverie,
He cannot hear them.
KING.
Make him eat or drink.
Nor is it all because of my good name
I'd have him do it, for he is a man
That might well hit the fancy of a king,
Banished out of his country, or a woman's,
Or any other's that can judge a man
For what he is. But I that sit a throne,
And take my measure from the needs of the State,
Call his wild thought that overruns the measure,
Making words more than deeds, and his proud will
That would unsettle all, most mischievous,
And he himself a most mischievous man.
[_He turns to go, and then returns again. _
Promise a house with grass and tillage land,
An annual payment, jewels and silken ware,
Or anything but that old right of the poets.
[_He goes into palace. _
OLDEST PUPIL.
The King did wrong to abrogate our right;
But Seanchan, who talks of dying for it,
Talks foolishly. Look at us, Seanchan;
Waken out of your dream and look at us,
Who have ridden under the moon and all the day,
Until the moon has all but come again,
That we might be beside you.
SEANCHAN.
[_Half turning round, leaning on his elbow, and
speaking as if in a dream. _]
I was but now
In Almhuin, in a great high-raftered house,
With Finn and Osgar. Odours of roast flesh
Rose round me, and I saw the roasting-spits;
And then the dream was broken, and I saw
Grania dividing salmon by a stream.
OLDEST PUPIL.
Hunger has made you dream of roasting flesh;
And though I all but weep to think of it,
The hunger of the crane, that starves himself
At the full moon because he is afraid
Of his own shadow and the glittering water,
Seems to me little more fantastical
Than this of yours.
SEANCHAN.
Why, that's the very truth.
It is as though the moon changed everything--
Myself and all that I can hear and see;
For when the heavy body has grown weak,
There's nothing that can tether the wild mind
That, being moonstruck and fantastical,
Goes where it fancies. I had even thought
I knew your voice and face, but now the words
Are so unlikely that I needs must ask
Who is it that bids me put my hunger by.
OLDEST PUPIL.
I am your oldest pupil, Seanchan;
The one that has been with you many years--
So many, that you said at Candlemas
That I had almost done with school, and knew
All but all that poets understand.
SEANCHAN.
My oldest pupil? No, that cannot be,
For it is some one of the courtly crowds
That have been round about me from sunrise,
And I am tricked by dreams; but I'll refute them.
At Candlemas I bid that pupil tell me
Why poetry is honoured, wishing to know
If he had any weighty argument
For distant countries and strange, churlish kings.
What did he answer?
OLDEST PUPIL.
I said the poets hung
Images of the life that was in Eden
About the child-bed of the world, that it,
Looking upon those images, might bear
Triumphant children. But why must I stand here,
Repeating an old lesson, while you starve?
SEANCHAN.
Tell on, for I begin to know the voice.
What evil thing will come upon the world
If the Arts perish?
OLDEST PUPIL.
If the Arts should perish,
The world that lacked them would be like a woman,
That looking on the cloven lips of a hare,
Brings forth a hare-lipped child.
SEANCHAN.
But that's not all:
For when I asked you how a man should guard
Those images, you had an answer also,
If you're the man that you have claimed to be,
Comparing them to venerable things
God gave to men before he gave them wheat.
OLDEST PUPIL.
I answered--and the word was half your own--
That he should guard them as the Men of Dea
Guard their four treasures, as the Grail King guards
His holy cup, or the pale, righteous horse
The jewel that is underneath his horn,
Pouring out life for it as one pours out
Sweet heady wine. . . . But now I understand;
You would refute me out of my own mouth;
And yet a place at table, near the King,
Is nothing of great moment, Seanchan.
How does so light a thing touch poetry?
[_SEANCHAN is now sitting up. He still looks dreamily
in front of him. _
SEANCHAN.
At Candlemas you called this poetry
One of the fragile, mighty things of God,
That die at an insult.
OLDEST PUPIL.
[_To other PUPILS. _]
Give me some true answer,
For on that day we spoke about the Court,
And said that all that was insulted there
The world insulted, for the Courtly life,
Being the first comely child of the world,
Is the world's model. How shall I answer him?
Can you not give me some true argument?
I will not tempt him with a lying one.
YOUNGEST PUPIL.
O, tell him that the lovers of his music
Have need of him.
SEANCHAN.
But I am labouring
For some that shall be born in the nick o' time,
And find sweet nurture, that they may have voices,
Even in anger, like the strings of harps;
And how could they be born to majesty
If I had never made the golden cradle?
YOUNGEST PUPIL.
[_Throwing himself at SEANCHAN'S feet. _]
Why did you take me from my father's fields?
If you would leave me now, what shall I love?
Where shall I go? What shall I set my hand to?
And why have you put music in my ears,
If you would send me to the clattering houses?
I will throw down the trumpet and the harp,
For how could I sing verses or make music
With none to praise me, and a broken heart?
SEANCHAN.
What was it that the poets promised you,
If it was not their sorrow? Do not speak.
Have I not opened school on these bare steps,
And are not you the youngest of my scholars?
And I would have all know that when all falls
In ruin, poetry calls out in joy,
Being the scattering hand, the bursting pod,
The victim's joy among the holy flame,
God's laughter at the shattering of the world.
And now that joy laughs out, and weeps and burns
On these bare steps.
YOUNGEST PUPIL.
O master, do not die!
OLDEST PUPIL.
Trouble him with no useless argument.
Be silent! There is nothing we can do
Except find out the King and kneel to him,
And beg our ancient right.
For here are some
To say whatever we could say and more,
And fare as badly. Come, boy, that is no use.
[_Raises YOUNGEST PUPIL. _
If it seem well that we beseech the King,
Lay down your harps and trumpets on the stones
In silence, and come with me silently.
Come with slow footfalls, and bow all your heads,
For a bowed head becomes a mourner best.
[_They lay harps and trumpets down one by one, and then
go out very solemnly and slowly, following one another.
Enter MAYOR, TWO CRIPPLES, and BRIAN, an old servant.
The mayor, who has been heard, before he came upon
the stage, muttering _'Chief Poet,' 'Ireland,' etc. _,
crosses in front of SEANCHAN to the other side of the
steps. BRIAN takes food out of basket. The CRIPPLES are
watching the basket. The MAYOR has an Ogham stick in
his hand. _
MAYOR.
[_As he crosses. _]
'Chief Poet,' 'Ireland,' 'Townsman,' 'Grazing land,'
Those are the words I have to keep in mind--
'Chief Poet,' 'Ireland,' 'Townsman,' 'Grazing land. '
I have the words. They are all upon the Ogham.
'Chief Poet,' 'Ireland,' 'Townsman,' 'Grazing land. '
But what's their order?
[_He keeps muttering over his speech during what
follows. _
FIRST CRIPPLE.
The King were rightly served
If Seanchan drove his good luck away.
What's there about a king, that's in the world
From birth to burial like another man,
That he should change old customs, that were in it
As long as ever the world has been a world?
SECOND CRIPPLE.
If I were king I would not meddle with him,
For there is something queer about a poet.
I knew of one that would be making rhyme
Under a thorn at crossing of three roads.
He was as ragged as ourselves, and yet
He was no sooner dead than every thorn tree
From Inchy to Kiltartan withered away.
FIRST CRIPPLE.
The King is but a fool!
MAYOR.
I am getting ready.
FIRST CRIPPLE.
A poet has power from beyond the world,
That he may set our thoughts upon old times,
And lucky queens and little holy fish
That rise up every seventh year----
MAYOR.
Hush! hush!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
To cure the crippled.
MAYOR.
I am half ready now.
BRIAN.
There's not a mischief I'd begrudge the King
If it were any other----
MAYOR.
Hush! I am ready.
BRIAN.
That died to get it. I have brought out the food,
And if my master will not eat of it,
I'll home and get provision for his wake,
For that's no great way off. Well, have your say,
But don't be long about it.
MAYOR.
[_Goes close to SEANCHAN. _]
Chief Poet of Ireland,
I am the Mayor of your own town Kinvara,
And I am come to tell you that the news
Of this great trouble with the King of Gort
Has plunged us in deep sorrow--part for you,
Our honoured townsman, part for our good town.
[_Begins to hesitate; scratching his head. _
But what comes now? Something about the King.
BRIAN.
Get on! get on! The food is all set out.
MAYOR.
Don't hurry me.
FIRST CRIPPLE.
Give us a taste of it.
He'll not begrudge it.
SECOND CRIPPLE.
Let them that have their limbs
Starve if they will. We have to keep in mind
The stomach God has left us.
MAYOR.
Hush! I have it!
The King was said to be most friendly to us,
And we have reason, as you'll recollect,
For thinking that he was about to give
Those grazing lands inland we so much need,
Being pinched between the water and the stones.
Our mowers mow with knives between the stones;
The sea washes the meadows. You know well
We have asked nothing but what's reasonable.
SEANCHAN.
Reason in plenty. Yellowy white hair,
A hollow face, and not too many teeth.
How comes it he has been so long in the world
And not found Reason out?
[_While saying this he has turned half round. He hardly
looks at the MAYOR. _
BRIAN.
[_Trying to pull MAYOR away. _]
What good is there
In telling him what he has heard all day!
I will set food before him.
MAYOR.
[_Shoving BRIAN away. _]
Don't hurry me!
It's small respect you're showing to the town!
Get farther off! [_To SEANCHAN. _] We would not have you think,
Weighty as these considerations are,
That they have been as weighty in our minds
As our desire that one we take much pride in,
A man that's been an honour to our town,
Should live and prosper; therefore we beseech you
To give way in a matter of no moment,
A matter of mere sentiment--a trifle--
That we may always keep our pride in you.
[_He finishes this speech with a pompous air, motions
to BRIAN to bring the food to SEANCHAN, and sits on
seat. _
BRIAN.
Master, master, eat this! It's not king's food,
That's cooked for everybody and nobody.
Here's barley-bread out of your father's oven,
And dulse from Duras. Here is the dulse, your honour;
It's wholesome, and has the good taste of the sea.
[_Takes dulse in one hand and bread in other and
presses them into SEANCHAN'S hands. SEANCHAN shows by
his movement his different feeling to BRIAN. _
FIRST CRIPPLE.
He has taken it, and there'll be nothing left!
SECOND CRIPPLE.
Nothing at all; he wanted his own sort.
What's honey to a cat, corn to a dog,
Or a green apple to a ghost in a churchyard?
SEANCHAN.
[_Pressing food back into BRIAN'S hands. _]
Eat it yourself, for you have come a journey,
And it may be eat nothing on the way.
BRIAN.
How could I eat it, and your honour starving!
It is your father sends it, and he cried
Because the stiffness that is in his bones
Prevented him from coming, and bid me tell you
That he is old, that he has need of you,
And that the people will be pointing at him,
And he not able to lift up his head,
If you should turn the King's favour away;
And he adds to it, that he cared you well,
And you in your young age, and that it's right
That you should care him now.
SEANCHAN.
[_Who is now interested. _]
And is that all?
What did my mother say?
BRIAN.
She gave no message;
For when they told her you had it in mind to starve,
Or get again the ancient right of the poets,
She said: 'No message can do any good.
He will not send the answer that you want.
We cannot change him. ' And she went indoors,
Lay down upon the bed, and turned her face
Out of the light. And thereupon your father
Said: 'Tell him that his mother sends no message,
Albeit broken down and miserable. ' [_A pause. _
Here's a pigeon's egg from Duras, and these others
Were laid by your own hens.
SEANCHAN.
She has sent no message.
Our mothers know us; they know us to the bone.
They knew us before birth, and that is why
They know us even better than the sweethearts
Upon whose breasts we have lain.
Go quickly! Go
And tell them that my mother was in the right.
There is no answer. Go and tell them that.
Go tell them that she knew me.
MAYOR.
What is he saying?
I never understood a poet's talk
More than the baa of a sheep!
[_Comes over from seat. SEANCHAN turns away. _
You have not heard,
It may be, having been so much away,
How many of the cattle died last winter
From lacking grass, and that there was much sickness
Because the poor have nothing but salt fish
To live on through the winter?
BRIAN.
Get away,
And leave the place to me! It's my turn now,
For your sack's empty!
MAYOR.
Is it 'get away'!
Is that the way I'm to be spoken to!
Am I not Mayor? Amn't I authority?
Amn't I in the King's place? Answer me that!
BRIAN.
Then show the people what a king is like:
Pull down old merings and root custom up,
Whitewash the dunghills, fatten hogs and geese,
Hang your gold chain about an ass's neck,
And burn the blessed thorn trees out of the fields,
And drive what's comely away!
MAYOR.
Holy Saint Coleman!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
Fine talk! fine talk! What else does the King do?
He fattens hogs and drives the poet away!
SECOND CRIPPLE.
He starves the song-maker!
FIRST CRIPPLE.
He fattens geese!
MAYOR.
How dare you take his name into your mouth!
How dare you lift your voice against the King!
What would we be without him?
BRIAN.
Why do you praise him?
I will have nobody speak well of him,
Or any other king that robs my master.
MAYOR.
And had he not the right to? and the right
To strike your master's head off, being the King,
Or yours or mine? I say, 'Long live the King!
Because he does not take our heads from us. '
Call out, 'Long life to him! '
BRIAN.
Call out for him!
[_Speaking at same time with MAYOR. _
There's nobody'll call out for him,
But smiths will turn their anvils,
The millers turn their wheels,
The farmers turn their churns,
The witches turn their thumbs,
'Till he be broken and splintered into pieces.
MAYOR.
[_At same time with BRIAN. _]
He might, if he'd a mind to it,
Be digging out our tongues,
Or dragging out our hair,
Or bleaching us like calves,
Or weaning us like lambs,
But for the kindness and the softness that is in him.
[_They gasp for breath. _
FIRST CRIPPLE.
I'll curse him till I drop!
[_Speaking at same time as SECOND CRIPPLE and MAYOR and
BRIAN, who have begun again. _
The curse of the poor be upon him,
The curse of the widows upon him,
The curse of the children upon him,
The curse of the bishops upon him,
Until he be as rotten as an old mushroom!
SECOND CRIPPLE.
[_Speaking at same time as FIRST CRIPPLE and MAYOR and
BRIAN. _
The curse of wrinkles be upon him!
Wrinkles where his eyes are,
Wrinkles where his nose is,
Wrinkles where his mouth is,
And a little old devil looking out of every wrinkle!
BRIAN.
[_Speaking at same time with MAYOR and CRIPPLES. _]
And nobody will sing for him,
And nobody will hunt for him,
And nobody will fish for him,
And nobody will pray for him,
But ever and always curse him and abuse him.
MAYOR.
[_Speaking at same time with CRIPPLES and BRIAN. _]
What good is in a poet?
