Delphi Complete Poetry and Plays of W. B. Yeats (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series)

by W. B. Yeats

  OLD MAN. Not now; we must go in search for our sheep. If I have lost my ram, my ewes will be useless to me. We must go now, for at daybreak the Fianna will be sounding their horns. They were sounding them till the moon went down; it was they who frightened my sheep.

  YOUNG MAN. But this hunting, will the boar be killed?

  OLD MAN. It is no great matter to us, maybe a little less damage to our fields that is all. The seasons will be none the better, the cows will have no more milk in their udders; and my lambs, there will be no lambs next year.

  YOUNG MAN. When the Fianna have killed the boar they will give us some parts of it.

  OLD MAN. The Fianna have no thoughts for such as we. All that they do not eat of the boar they will throw to their dogs; they would not think it well for us to taste meat. They beat back the invader when they can and it is more than our lives are worth to pick up a dead hare from the path.

  YOUNG MAN. Hush, there is a man sleeping under the tree. If we do not wake him the beast may come upon him sleeping.

  OLD MAN. Better do nothing, we must not do anything against the gods. The god Aonghus will save him if it be pleasing to him to do so, or he may call him away. Let us begone, boy, let us find our sheep.

  [Exit].

  DIARMUID. They croak like ravens over carrion — croak, croak, croak.

  [Enter Grania}.

  GRANIA. I have sought you all night. I have been wandering in the woods since the moon went down.

  DIARMUID. What have you come for?

  GRANIA. I was afraid and have been running; give me time to draw my breath.

  DIARMUID. Your hair is down and your hands are torn with brambles.

  GRANIA. Yes, look at my hands, and I am so weary, Diarmuid. I am so weary that I could lie down and die here. That mossy bank is like a bed; lay me down there. Oh, I have come to bring you home with me.

  DIARMUID. And you show me torn hands, and you hold out to me wet hair, and would have me go home. You talk of dying too, and would have me lay you on this bank. But what good is there in all this, Grania, for I have no time to listen.

  GRANIA. Give up this hunting for I have had warning that you will die if you do not turn back. Turn before we lose ourselves in the darkness of the woods.

  DIARMUID. I am in a little way that leads to darkness, but what does that matter to you, Grania? Your way home winds along the hill and down into the valley; my way is a different way, a shorter way, and the morrows that men live frighten me more than this short way. I have no heart for that crooked road of morrows.

  GRANIA. [Wringing her hands]. Come to our home, Diarmuid, come to our house.

  DIARMUID. All the roads, the straight road and the crooked road, lead to blackness. If blackness be the end and there is no light beyond it? But what have such questions to do with me? Whatever road I am on, I will walk firmly with my sword out. [He draws his sword]. But you have come to tell me something. What is it? Out with it quickly for the day is breaking, and when it is broken there will be no hunting.

  GRANIA. I have come to ask you to go home with me.

  DIARMUID. YOU would have me in the straight road, and so you have come to tell me that I am in it. For it is certain that a man walks where he thinks he walks. The mind makes all; we will talk of that some day. I tell you that you are lying to me. I am not in the road that leads on and on, and then shatters under one’s feet, and becomes flying bits of darkness.

  GRANIA. Diarmuid, you are going straight upon your death, if you do not come back with me.

  DIARMUID. What do you know of all this that you come like a soothsayer? Who has been whispering in your ear? Who has sent you to me?

  GRANIA. I had a warning last night.

  DIARMUID. From that old woman who spins? I tell you I have had enough of her warnings. I saw her last night carrying a bundle of new flax through the woods.

  GRANIA. No, Diarmuid, I left her in the house.

  DIARMUID. I tell you I saw her. She is going somewhere on some evil work. But where is she going with the new flax? What have you come to tell me about her?

  GRANIA. I have come to tell you of a dream that came to me last night.

  DIARMUID. Well, what did the dream tell you?

  GRANIA. I dreamt I was sitting by Finn.

  DIARMUID. I do not think much of that dream, for I saw you yesterday walking with Finn and holding his hands.

  GRANIA. But I dreamed I was sitting by Finn, and that your shield was hanging among the shields of the slain over our heads.

  DIARMUID. Did you not say it was a bad dream? I have heard worse dreams than that. Ah, foolish gods, can you find nothing better than the dreams of an unfaithful wife to vex and shake my will.

  GRANIA. Do not blaspheme against the gods for they are near to us now. I have been praying to them to spare you. I have been praying to them all night, while I looked for you.

  DIARMUID. Yes, every man is a god in heaven, and on earth we are the hurly balls they drive hither and thither — oh, they are great hurly players. The camauns are never out of their hands. All night I have heard them laughing. I tell you I have heard them laughing. Do you not hear me? Do you not hear me?

  GRANIA. I hear, but oh, Diarmuid, take my hands and touch my hair. They may bring some memory to your mind, some softness to your heart.

  DIARMUID. Yes, yes, I remember well enough. Your hands and your hair were sweet to me long ago. No, no, yesterday, even yesterday. Let me see your hands. They are beautiful hands, torn as they are. No wonder I love them; and this hair too. You loved me once, Grania, you loved me better than Finn. I remember it all the day before yesterday.

  GRANIA. I love you still, Diarmuid.

  DIARMUID. My dear one, why did you send me to Finn? It may be that my words have been a little wild. Speak quickly, do not be afraid.

  GRANIA. I sent you to Finn, because I wanted you to live among the

  Fianna as before you saw me.

  DIARMUID. All you say is true.

  GRANIA. I wanted you to be friends with Finn, because your love had become a sickness, a madness.

  DIARMUID. Yes, yes, it has become a madness. But it is a long while,

  Grania, since we were alone together.

  GRANIA. No, Diarmuid not long.

  DIARMUID. Yesterday is a long while and there may be no other time for wringing this secret from you. There was a thought of Finn in your mind when you sent me to him.

  GRANIA. There is no secret in me; I have told you everything. And I come through this wood by night, to bring you from this hunt, as a wife comes to her husband.

  DIARMUID. Grania was not meant to sit by the fireside with children on her knees. The gods made her womb barren because she was not meant to hold children on her knees. The gods gave her a barren womb, hungry and barren like the sea. She looked from the red apple in her hand to the green apple on the bough. She looked from me to Finn, even when she first lusted for me, and after Finn there will be some other. The malignant gods made your beauty, Grania. Your hand is very weak, your arm is weak and fragile. Your hair is very soft. [He takes her by the hair], I could kill you as easily as I could kill a flower by the wayside.

  GRANIA. Kill me if you will, kill me with your sword, here in my breast.

  DIARMUID. You would have me kill you. Maybe if I killed you, all would be well.

  GRANIA. Hold fast my hair, draw back my head and kill me. I would have you do it... [Pause]. Why do you not do it? If you would go to this hunting, you must do it; for while I live, you shall not go.

  DIARMUID. Let go my spear, I say; let go my spear, if you would have your life. I see that you are thinking of Finn this very moment. I see thoughts of Finn in your eyes. Let me go, or I will let the lust out of you with this sword point.

  GRANIA. Kill me, Diarmuid, I would have you do it.

  DIARMUID. And leave this white body like a cut flower on the wayside.

  GRANIA. Kill me, Diarmuid.

  DIARMUID. I have heard the gods laugh, and I have been merry, bu
t if I killed you I would remember everything. And I should wander in the woods seeing white and red flowers — after killing you I might kill myself — oh, that would be a good thing to do. But seeing you there, your soft hair spattered with blood, and your white hands stained with blood, I might not remember to do it. I might remember nothing but yesterday and to-day. I cannot kill you. I would not see your blood nor touch your hands. Your lips and teeth, and all this beauty I have loved seem in my eyes no better than a yellow pestilence. Grania, Grania, out of my sight. [He goes out driving her before him. A moment after he returns alone]. That is over, let me think. Yes, yes, there is a beast coming that I am to kill. I should take him so, upon my spear. The spear will be my best weapon, but the hand must be steady beneath it. If the point slipped he would be upon me. Maybe it will be better to let him run upon my shield and kill him with my sword, while he digs his tusks into my shield. My danger will be the darkness, for the darkness makes the hand shake, and day breaks but slowly. Higher up in the woods there is a little more light.

  [He goes out. Enter Caoelte and Usheen].

  CAOELTE. We have hardly escaped with our lives. The branches touched me as the tree fell.

  USHEEN. What made that great ash tree fall?

  CAOELTE. The wind had lulled and yet it crashed across our way as if it would kill us.

  USHEEN. I heard a thud and a crackling of branches before it fell, as though a great rock had been thrown against it, though I saw nothing, and for some time I had heard crashings in the woods. I think that hosts have been hurling rocks at one another. All night there has been fighting on the earth, and in the air, and in the water.

  CAOELTE. Never was there such a night before. As I came by the river

  I saw swans fighting in the air, and three fell screaming into the tree tops.

  USHEEN. Have you seen how Finn’s hounds whimper at his heels?

  CAOELTE. They whimper and cry till the touch of his hand gives them courage for a moment. They would not follow him at all were they not afraid of being left alone... [They walk to and fro — a pause].

  That light must be the beginning of the day. A pale foolish light that makes the darkness worse. The sky and earth would turn to their old works again but they have been palsy struck. Let us put this darkness out of our minds. Find us something to talk of, Usheen. Where is Diarmuid?

  DIARMUID. [Coming forward]. Diarmuid is here, waiting whatever may befall him. Tell Finn that though the mountain arose like an ox from sleep, and came against me, and though the clouds came like eagles, and the sea upon its feet that are without number, I would not turn from this hunting.

  CAOELTE. We have been seeking you. We would have you leave this hunting.

  DIARMUID. It may be that you fear, and that Finn fears, because of the falling of trees and the screaming of swans, but I do not fear.

  CAOELTE. Turn from this hunting, Diarmuid.

  DIARMUID. I would not, had I nothing but a reason no bigger than a pea, and I have weighty reasons.

  CAOELTE. It were no wonder if even we, whose death at a hunt like this has not been foretold, should turn from this hunting. For we are following no mortal beast. A man who had been trapping otters followed the footmarks last night, not knowing what they were, and as he followed they grew greater and greater and further and further apart.

  DIARMUID. The night is dark.

  CAOELTE. But the footmarks were deep. Deeper than any made by a mortal beast.

  DIARMUID. It came yesterday out of the woods like a blight, like a flood, like a toad stool, and now it grows bigger and bigger. But so much more the need for hunters. Goodbye, comrades. Goodbye.

  [Exit].

  CAOELTE. I would not follow where he has gone. He is among those broken rocks where I heard screams, and sounds as of battle. They say that dwarfs and worse things have their homes among those rocks.

  USHEEN. He is the only one among us who has not been shaken by this night of terror. Look, look something is coming this way.

  CAOELTE. A tall staff in his hand, and he moves noiselessly, and there is another following him.

  USHEEN. Draw your sword, Caoelte.

  CAOELTE. It will not come out of its sheath. It is but a shepherd. We are craven and no better than Conan.

  [Enter two peasants].

  OLD MAN. Be of good heart, great deliverer of Eri. I am but a shepherd looking for his sheep, and not, as well might be, some bad thing out of the rocks.

  YOUNG MAN. Can you tell me, noble sirs, of any strayed sheep, or what is troubling the water and the air over our heads?

  CAOELTE. We have been wandering in the dark all night. We are as blind as you are.

  OLD MAN. We must go, sirs, we must find our sheep or starve.

  [Exit peasants].

  USHEEN. Maybe he was laughing at us because he was afraid. We must wait here till we hear Finn’s horn. If we were to seek him we would lose him, and it may be never come alive out of the woods.

  CAOELTE. We had better go further up the hill. Who is this coming?

  Since dawn began, the wood has been full of shadows and sound.

  They are coming out of the rocks: they rise out of the rocks.

  USHEEN. There is one who seems to be pushed along, and if it is but a shadow it is a heavy one. It is Conan. I can see the sheep-skin. I am glad he has not seen our fear.

  [Enter Goll, Conan, Griffan, Fathna and two of the Fianna].

  GOLL. The night is over at last.

  CONAN. The night is over, and the last day has begun. Give me a drink for I can go no further without one.

  CAOELTE. We must go further up the hill. We must hurry on if we would find Finn again. Have you seen him? Have you heard his horn?

  GOLL. NO, he has not sounded it, but the beast will be stirring.

  FATHNA. The last time I saw Finn he was standing on the rock yonder. He stood facing the dawn and shouting to his hounds. When he saw us he shouted that we were to climb up to him. He bellowed like a bull for its heifer.

  GRIFFAN. But I had had climbing enough.

  CONAN. Sit down; I will go no further. When a man has got to die, is it not better for him to die sitting down than walking about, and better to die on clean ground than in the mire, or up to his middle in water. Give me your ale skin, Caoelte.

  CAOELTE. I will not, Conan; you have been asking for it all night.

  CONAN. Give me your ale skin Usheen, it is the last drink I shall ever drink.

  USHEEN. I will give him a drink; he will not move until we do.

  [Usheen gives Conan his ale skin]. Drink and think no more of death.

  CONAN. All the disasters that have come to Diarmuid have come to him because of the spilling of the ale out of the flagon; but I have lost both ale and ale skin and must therefore die.

  CAOELTE. [To Fathna]. We might light a fire, there must be dry leaves under these rocks.

  [Fathna and Griffan go together to collect dry leaves and sticks, and they return a moment after with them].

  CONAN. We are shivering since we crossed that river; and it was in that river I lost my ale skin; some one plucked it from behind.

  CAOELTE. I too am shivering; the day is bleaker than the night.

  CONAN. Ah, be careful with the tinder, be careful, for the first leaves are the dry ones — bring the fire a little nearer, I would die warm though I have to get cold after. Make room for me by the fire. Do you not understand that I am going to die — that Conan the Bald is going to die — you will never flout me for my great belly again,

  Caoelte.

  CAOELTE. You are not going to die, Conan. Here I will give you a drink.

  CONAN. Yellow ale, bitter on the tongue, tasting a little of the vat of red yew that it came from... the last drink Conan will ever drink. [Caoelte and the others talk among themselves]. They think that all this hurly burly is for Diarmuid, but I know better; you are my friends and I will tell you about it.

  CAOELTE. Give me my ale skin, Conan.

  CONAN. Not yet, I mus
t drink a little more — and now this is the way it was — it was not the loss of the ale skin that told me I was going to die, that only showed me that some great evil was going to happen — it was a swan screaming in the trees that told me I was going to die. Before I was born, and when yet my mother was carrying with me, towards the seventh month she was one day washing clothes in the river, and she saw three geese swimming; and while one was cackling and billing with its mate, an otter caught it by the leg and dragged it under the water; so my mother knew something was to happen to the child under her belt, and she told me never to cross a river when there were geese about.

  CAOELTE. They were swans that screamed in the trees.