No More Learning

[_He goes out. _

DECTORA.

The sword is in the rope--
The rope's in two? it falls into the sea,
It whirls into the foam. O ancient worm,
Dragon that loved the world and held us to it,
You are broken, you are broken. The world drifts away,
And I am left alone with my beloved,
Who cannot put me from his sight for ever.
We are alone for ever, and I laugh,
Forgael, because you cannot put me from you.
The mist has covered the heavens, and you and I
Shall be alone for ever. We two--this crown--
I half remember. It has been in my dreams.
Bend lower, O king, that I may crown you with it.
O flower of the branch, O bird among the leaves,
O silver fish that my two hands have taken
Out of the running stream, O morning star,
Trembling in the blue heavens like a white fawn
Upon the misty border of the wood,
Bend lower, that I may cover you with my hair,
For we will gaze upon this world no longer.

[_The scene darkens, and the harp once more begins
to burn as with a faint fire. FORGAEL is kneeling at
DECTORA'S feet. _

FORGAEL.

[_Gathering DECTORA'S hair about him. _]

Beloved, having dragged the net about us,
And knitted mesh to mesh, we grow immortal;
And that old harp awakens of itself
To cry aloud to the grey birds, and dreams,
That have had dreams for father, live in us.




APPENDIX I

ACTING VERSION OF _THE SHADOWY WATERS_


FORGAEL
AIBRIC
SAILORS
DECTORA

THE scene is the same as in the text except that the sail is dull
copper colour. The poop rises several feet above the stage, and from
the overhanging stern hangs a lanthorn with a greenish light. The sea
or sky is represented by a semi-circular cloth of which nothing can be
seen except a dark abyss, for the stage is lighted by arc-lights so
placed upon a bridge over the proscenium as to throw a perpendicular
light upon the stage. The light is dim, and there are deep shadows
which waver as if with the passage of clouds over the moon. The persons
are dressed in blue and green, and move but little. Some sailors are
discovered crouching by the sail. Forgael is asleep and Aibric standing
by the tiller on the raised poop.


_First Sailor. _ It is long enough, and too long, Forgael has been
bringing us through the waste places of the great sea.

_Second Sailor. _ We did not meet with a ship to make a prey of these
eight weeks, or any shore or island to plunder or to harry. It is a
hard thing, age to be coming on me, and I not to get the chance of
doing a robbery that would enable me to live quiet and honest to the
end of my lifetime.

_First Sailor. _ We are out since the new moon. What is worse again, it
is the way we are in a ship, the barrels empty and my throat shrivelled
with drought, and nothing to quench it but water only.

_Forgael_ [_in his sleep_]. Yes; there, there; that hair that is the
colour of burning.

_First Sailor. _ Listen to him now, calling out in his sleep.

_Forgael_ [_in his sleep_]. That pale forehead, that hair the colour of
burning.

_First Sailor. _ Some crazy dream he is in, and believe me it is no
crazier than the thought he has waking. He is not the first that has
had the wits drawn out from him through shadows and fantasies.

_Second Sailor. _ That is what ails him. I have been thinking it this
good while.

_First Sailor. _ Do you remember that galley we sank at the time of the
full moon?

_Second Sailor. _ I do. We were becalmed the same night, and he sat up
there playing that old harp of his until the moon had set.

_First Sailor. _ I was sleeping up there by the bulwark, and when I woke
in the sound of the harp a change came over my eyes, and I could see
very strange things. The dead were floating upon the sea yet, and it
seemed as if the life that went out of every one of them had turned to
the shape of a man-headed bird--grey they were, and they rose up of a
sudden and called out with voices like our own, and flew away singing
to the west. Words like this they were singing: 'Happiness beyond
measure, happiness where the sun dies. '

_Second Sailor. _ I understand well what they are doing. My mother
used to be talking of birds of the sort. They are sent by the lasting
watchers to lead men away from this world and its women to some place
of shining women that cast no shadow, having lived before the making of
the earth. But I have no mind to go following him to that place.

_First Sailor. _ Let us creep up to him and kill him in his sleep.

_Second Sailor. _ I would have made an end of him long ago, but that I
was in dread of his harp. It is said that when he plays upon it he has
power over all the listeners, with or without the body, seen or unseen,
and any man that listens grows to be as mad as himself.

_First Sailor. _ What way can he play it, being in his sleep?

_Second Sailor. _ But who would be our captain then to make out a course
from the Bear and the Pole-star, and to bring us back home?

_First Sailor. _ I have that thought out. We must have Aibric with us.
He knows the constellations as well as Forgael. He is a good hand with
the sword. Join with us; be our captain, Aibric. We are agreed to put
an end to Forgael, before he wakes. There is no man but will be glad of
it when it is done. Join with us, and you will have the captain's share
and profit.

_Aibric. _ Silence! for you have taken Forgael's pay.

_First Sailor. _ Little pay we have had this twelvemonth. We would never
have turned against him if he had brought us, as he promised, into seas
that would be thick with ships. That was the bargain. What is the use
of knocking about and fighting as we do unless we get the chance to
drink more wine and kiss more women than lasting peaceable men through
their long lifetime? You will be as good a leader as ever he was
himself, if you will but join us.

_Aibric. _ And do you think that I will join myself
To men like you, and murder him who has been
My master from my earliest childhood up?
No! nor to a world of men like you
When Forgael's in the other scale. Come! come!
I'll answer to more purpose when you have drawn
That sword out of its scabbard.

_First Sailor. _ You have awaked him. We had best go, for we have missed
this chance.

_Forgael. _ Have the birds passed us? I could hear your voice.
But there were others.

_Aibric. _ I have seen nothing pass.

_Forgael. _ You are certain of it? I never wake from sleep
But that I am afraid they may have passed;
For they're my only pilots. I have not seen them
For many days, and yet there must be many
Dying at every moment in the world.

_Aibric. _ They have all but driven you crazy, and already
The sailors have been plotting for your death,
And all the birds have cried into your ears
Has lured you on to death.

_Forgael. _ No; but they promised--

_Aibric. _ I know their promises. You have told me all.
They are to bring you to unheard-of passion,
To some strange love the world knows nothing of,
Some ever-living woman as you think,
One that can cast no shadow, being unearthly.
But that's all folly. Turn the ship about,
Sail home again, be some fair woman's friend;
Be satisfied to live like other men,
And drive impossible dreams away. The world
Has beautiful women to please every man.

_Forgael. _ But he that gets their love after the fashion
Loves in brief longing and deceiving hope
And bodily tenderness, and finds that even
The bed of love, that in the imagination
Had seemed to be the giver of all peace,
Is no more than a wine cup in the tasting,
And as soon finished.

_Aibric. _ All that ever loved
Have loved that way--there is no other way.

_Forgael. _ Yet never have two lovers kissed but they
Believed there was some other near at hand,
And almost wept because they could not find it.

_Aibric. _ When they have twenty years; in middle life
They take a kiss for what a kiss is worth,
And let the dream go by.

_Forgael. _ It's not a dream,
But the reality that makes our passion
As a lamp shadow--no--no lamp, the sun.
What the world's million lips are thirsting for,
Must be substantial somewhere.

_Aibric. _ I have heard the Druids
Mutter such things as they awake from trance.
It may be that the dead have lit upon it,
Or those that never lived; no mortal can.

_Forgael. _ I only of all living men shall find it.

_Aibric. _ Then seek it in the habitable world,
Or leap into that sea and end a journey
That has no other end.

_Forgael. _ I cannot answer.
I can see nothing plain; all's mystery.
Yet, sometimes there's a torch inside my head
That makes all clear, but when the light is gone
I have but images, analogies,
The mystic bread, the sacramental wine,
The red rose where the two shafts of the cross,
Body and soul, waking and sleep, death, life,
Whatever meaning ancient allegorists
Have settled on, are mixed into one joy.
For what's the rose but that? miraculous cries,
Old stories about mystic marriages,
Impossible truths? But when the torch is lit
All that is impossible is certain,
I plunge in the abyss.

[Sailors _come in_. ]

_First Sailor. _ Look there! There in the mist! A ship of spices.

_Second Sailor. _ We would not have noticed her but for the sweet smell
through the air. Ambergris and sandalwood, and all the herbs the
witches bring from the sunrise.

_First Sailor. _ No; but opoponax and cinnamon.

_Forgael_ [_taking the tiller from AIBRIC_]. The ever-living have kept
my bargain; they have 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 on her deck, and a queen. Where there
is one woman it is certain there will be others.

_Aibric. _ Speak lower or they'll hear.

_First Sailor. _ They cannot hear; they are too much taken up with one
another. Look! he has stooped down and kissed her on the lips.

_Second Sailor. _ When she finds out we have as good men aboard she may
not be too sorry in the end.

_First Sailor. _ She will be as dangerous as a wild cat. These queens
think more of the riches and the great name they get by marriage than
of a ready hand and a strong body.

_Second Sailor. _ There is nobody is natural but a robber. That is the
reason the whole world goes tottering about upon its bandy legs.

_Aibric. _ Run upon them now, and overpower the crew while yet asleep.

[Sailors _and AIBRIC go out_. _The clashing of swords
and confused voices are heard from the other ship,
which cannot be seen because of the sail. _

_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 now they all wheel suddenly and fly
To the other side, and higher in the air,
They've gone up thither, friend's run up by friend;
They've gone to their beloved ones in the air,
In the waste of the high air, that they may wander
Among the windy meadows of the dawn.
But why are they still waiting? Why are they
Circling and circling over the masthead?
Ah! now they all look down--they'll speak of me
What the ever-living put into their minds,
And of that shadowless unearthly woman
At the world's end. I hear the message now.
But it's all mystery. There's one that cries,
'From love and hate. ' Before the sentence ends
Another breaks upon it with a cry,
'From love and death and out of sleep and waking. '
And with the cry another cry is mixed,
'What can we do, being shadows? ' All mystery,
And I am drunken with a dizzy light.
But why do they still hover overhead?
Why are you circling there? Why do you linger?
Why do you not run to your desire?
Now that you have happy winged bodies.
Being too busy in the air, and the high air,
They cannot hear my voice. But why that circling?

[_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.

_Forgael. _ I'd set my hopes on one that had no shadow,--
Where do you come from? who brought you to this place?
Why do you cast a shadow? Answer me that.

_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 would give me vengeance.

_Forgael. _ When she finds out that I'll 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 grand-daughter of a king
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 the bulwark and turns towards FORGAEL. _]

Fool, fool! Although you have looked into my face
You did 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. _ There is no need for you to drown. Give us our pardon
and we will bring you home on your own ship, and make an end of this
man that is leading us to death.

_Dectora. _ I promise it.

_Aibric. _ I am on his side.
I'd strike a blow for him to give him time
To cast his dreams away.

_First 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. No! for that music of his
might put a beast's head upon my shoulders, or it may be two heads and
they devouring one another.

_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 strike at him. His spells, when he dies, will die
with him and vanish away.

_Second Sailor. _ I'll strike at him.

_The Others. _ And I! And I! And I!

[_FORGAEL plays upon the harp. _]

_First Sailor_ [_falling into a dream_]. It is what they are saying,
there is some person dead in the other ship; we have to go and wake
him. They did not say what way he came to his end, but it was sudden.

_Second Sailor. _ You are right, you are right. We have to go to that
wake.

_Dectora. _ He has flung a Druid spell upon the air,
And set you dreaming.

_Second Sailor. _ What way can we raise a keen, not knowing what name to
call him by?

_First Sailor. _ Come on to his ship. His name will come to mind in a
moment. All I know is he died a thousand years ago, and was never yet
waked.

_Second Sailor. _ How can we wake him having no ale?

_First Sailor. _ I saw a skin of ale aboard her--a pigskin of brown ale.

_Third Sailor. _ Come to the ale, a pigskin of brown ale, a goatskin of
yellow.

_First Sailor_ [_singing_]. Brown ale and yellow; yellow and brown ale;
a goatskin of yellow.

_All_ [_singing_]. Brown ale and yellow; yellow and brown ale!

[Sailors _go out_.

_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 singing of the
SAILORS from the other ship. DECTORA stands with the
sword lifted in front of FORGAEL. He changes the tune. _

_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. _

The 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.