Complete Works of George Moore

by George Moore

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 must 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.

  CONAN. Are not swans a kind of geese; but how do I know it was not swans my mother saw.

  CAOELTE. Conan, give me my ale skin.

  CONAN. Why did I keep Finn and Diarmuid from killing one another? They could have done it so easily in Diarmuid’s house.

  Why did I bring them to this hunt? Conan has brought his own death upon him.

  [Enter Finn],

  FINN. We have come upon the slot of a boar in the hills; he can only just have passed by; if we go to the bend of the stream we should come upon him. [To Conan]. Why are you lying there? We want every man. Get up, we will put you in the gap yonder. The boar shall not escape unless he escapes through you.

  CAOELTE. Conan is in terror; he thinks he is going to die.

  FINN. Conan, get up or you may have to face this beast alone.

  CONAN. DO not believe them; it is not Diarmuid this pig is looking for, it is for me.

  FINN. If Conan will not go, let him stay there. Here is a handful more leaves to warm your shins.

  [Finn throws some wet leaves on the fire and quenches it].

  CONAN. YOU have thrown wet leaves on the fire; now I shall die of cold. But are you leaving me? They all go because Finn has bidden them. You leave me, Goll, yet some day Finn who has put out my fire will put out your life. Is it not the oath of the Fianna to protect one another? Caoelte, Usheen, do you not hear me? [They go out laughing]. They are an evil stony-hearted proud race... Rot in the ear wheat, frogs’ spawn in the pool, yellow sickness in one’s body, henbane in one’s drink, lice in my beard, fleas in my sheep skin...

  A stony-hearted proud race.

  [He follows them out. Enter Grania and Finn].

  FINN. You are cold and tired, Grania, and have stumbled through the wood, you are all bruised.

  GRANIA. I am bruised and full of wretchedness, and I am very cold; and the dawning of the day frightens me. However, cold as it is, I do not wish to see the sun — but I am cold, oh, the cold.

  FINN. There has been a fire here; I will blow the ashes to a blaze.

  GRANIA. [Sitting down]. Why did you not leave me to die where I had chosen.

  FINN. The beast we are hunting might have run upon you and you would have been trampled and gored by it. I could not have left you there. The blaze is already beginning; hold your hands to it.

  GRANIA. I would that you had left me to be killed by it. You have planned that the death of this boar is to put me on one side or the other, to give me to Diarmuid or to give me to you. But I am no man’s spoil. [Standing up]. You have planned it all between you; your plans are not mine. Go from me, Finn, go to this hunt and kill the boar, make the fire or go where you will.

  FINN. Although I lose my chance of killing this beast I must stay with you. I will protect you.

  GRANIA. It does not matter. Stay with me here or go to this hunt.

  FINN. I will not leave you, if it were to spring upon you from the thicket.

  GRANIA. It might be better, for I have done mischief enough. I wished that you and Diarmuid could have made peace and all would have been well, had not this evil thing broken out of the earth.

  FINN. Diarmuid and I could not be at peace. The peace we made was a false peace. [Hunting horns heard in the distance]. The hounds are at the boar’s heels now. I can hear my hounds. Yes, it is Bran. Now it is Skealon. They have found their courage and are driving him from cover to cover. [Going up the stage]. Listen — now it is

  Lomair.

  GRANIA. Finn, I beseech you to put the desire of me out of your heart. Be Diarmuid’s friend and save him. Kill the boar and save him.

  FINN. If I kill the boar, will you belong to me?

  GRANIA. Not because you kill the boar.

  FINN. If I were there, and Diarmuid here, and this boar coming against me, would Diarmuid save me?

  GRANIA. YOU have fought side by side. Will you let him die?

  FINN. Why do you wish me to do this?

  GRANIA. It was I who sent Diarmuid to you; and by the blood bond, you are brothers.

  FINN. Should not a woman’s breast be more to me than a man’s hand?

  GRANIA. But the blood bond — he who breaks it shall be cast out by

  God-kind and man-kind.

  FINN. I cannot save Diarmuid, his end has been foretold. I cannot change it. The deaths of everyone of us and the end of the Fianna have been foretold. Many will die in a great battle, Oscar who is but a child will die in it, but I shall die long after by a spear thrust, and Diarmuid by the tusk of a boar, and Usheen will go far away, and Caoelte storm the house of the gods at Assaroe.

  [A cry is heard close by, Finn plunges into the thicket and returns with Diarmuid who has been mortally wounded by the boar. Diarmuid struggles to his feet, and leans against a rock].

  DIARMUID. Water, is there no water? My life is ebbing out with my blood. [Finn goes to a well and comes back with water in his hand, but as he holds up his hand the water drips through his fingers]. If

  I had water I might not die.

  GRANIA. Finn, bring him water in your helmet.

  [Diarmuid looks from one to the other].

  DIARMUID. Grania and Finn.

  [When Finn returns with his helmet filled with water, Diarmuid looks from one to the other, and then whether by accident or design he overturns the helmet].

  GRANIA. Why have you done this? Why will you not drink the water that Finn brought you? [She takes up the helmet and fetches the water herself. Again Diarmuid looks from one to another and puts the water away]. For my sake, for the sake of Grania, I beseech you to drink it.

  DIARMUID. It is growing lighter. T
here is a light coming out of the hill.

  FINN. Let me bind up your wounds or in a moment you’ll be gone.

  DIARMUID. They’re about me, they’re about me. They were always about me though I could not see them.

  FINN. He is dying, they are coming for him.

  DIARMUID. There is somebody there by the trees... move me a little that I may see him.

  [Finn helps Diarmuid and slightly changes his position. He begins swaying his hand as if to music].

  FINN. He hears the harp-playing of Aonghus; it is by music that he leads the dead.

  GRANIA. Diarmuid, oh, Diarmuid! Do not look at them. If you do not look at them you will not die. Do not die. You said once that you would be lonely without me among the immortals.

  DIARMUID. I cannot hear the harp playing; there is so much noise about me.

  GRANIA. He has forgotten me.

  FINN. Henceforth his business is with them.

  GRANIA. Oh, Diarmuid! Oh, Diarmuid! Oh, Diarmuid!

  DIARMUID. Someone spoke to me; No, not the harp player, some other. It was you Finn, who spoke to me. No, no, who was it who spoke to me?

  [He falls back dead].

  FINN. He is dead: he has died as the son of the gods should die. A friend against whom I have made war is dead. I warred against him for you, Grania.

  [They stand looking at each other for a moment and then Grania goes away and weeps. Enter a young man].

  YOUNG MAN. The beast you have been hunting is dead, killed by a spear thrust. Here is the spear.

  FINN. The spear is mine; give it to me. [Walking towards Grania]. We must send for men to carry the body to the house. [To the young man]. Go fetch King Cormac, bring him here.

  [Exit shepherd],

  GRANIA. [Trying to overcome her emotion]. What did you say, and what are you saying? That spear with the blood upon it in your hand, where did it come from?

  FINN. It is the spear that killed the boar — A thrust behind the shoulder did it. We must send for help.

  GRANIA. A great man is dead. Ah, why did I send him to you, Finn?

  I thought that two who were so great should be friends.

  FINN. The gods chose you, Grania, to give him love and death.

  GRANIA. [ Wringing her hands]. Finn, we must mourn him. You have to go against the Lochlanders, and this one that I have taken from you will not be by your side. Before the Fianna go against the Lochlanders they must mourn him, all his comrades must mourn him. [The hunters begin to come in from the wings]. All the Fianna must mourn him, and the shepherds of his valley. [She goes towards the body of Diarmuid. They make way for her, and when she reaches Diarmuid’s body a shepherd coming in from the back gives her Diarmuid’s shield and his broken spear]. His shield with the flying white heron upon it shall be laid upon his breast and I will lay beside him the Broad Edge that I bade him take instead of this spear I warned him not to take. Where is my father? Where is King Cormac? He shall see that Diarmuid’s burning be worthy of him. [Enter King Cormac]. Here is my father [She goes to her father]. Father, he is dead, one of the great men of Eri is dead. I am telling all these people that you will see to his burning that it may be worthy of him.

  CORMAC. My daughter has lost a husband and Eri a defender. The Fianna must mourn him, and all the shepherds of this valley. Finn son of Cool, you too shall watch over this mourning.

  [Finn goes over and stands by her].

  GRANIA. There are birch trees upon the mountain that the summer has made ready for the flame. Every shepherd shall bring a tree and they shall be heaped to a great height. Diarmuid shall be laid upon them and when they are lighted all people that are on the western shore shall see the blaze.

  CAOELTE. I will send messengers to gather the swift runners, and the swift riders, and the boxers, and the throwers of the weight, that the funeral games be worthy of him.

  USHEEN. I shall send messengers who will gather the harpers and gather the women that his funeral songs may be well sung. Many queens shall mourn him to the sound of harps, for when he lived there was none that would not have taken Grania’s place, and wandered with him in her stead. It may be that he will come with

  Aonghus out of the heart of some hill and stand invisible among us and know that he is not forgotten.

  FINN. The best of my horses shall be killed with his own horse that he may have noble horses when he awakes. [Turning to the men who have brought in the litter]. Carry him gently for he was well beloved when alive. [They lay Diarmuid’s body upon the litter. Finn turns to Grania]. Lay his shield upon his breast.

  [Grania walks again to the body and lays the shield upon Diarmuid. The men lift the litter and carry it slowly to the wood].

  CORMAC. Diarmuid is dead, but the Fianna are united and the Lochlanders shall be driven into the sea.

  [Finn, Cormac, and Grania go up the stage, following the procession. Conan remains warming his shins by the fire].

  CONAN. Grania makes great mourning for Diarmuid, but her welcome to Finn shall be greater.

  Curtain

  The Poetry

  61, rue Condorcet, Paris — Moore’s home and studio was based here in 1875.

  Flowers of Passion

  This volume of poems was Moore’s first attempt to successfully break into that art form; initially self-published, it was later published in 1877 in Britain by Provost & Co. and in New York in 1878 by Garland Publications. The publication came at a time when Moore had failed as a fine artist and was looking for a different creative outlet. He was only twenty-six years old, but was in a state of high anxiety about his career, determined to make a name for himself at all costs as a man of high culture with connections to the artistic communities of Paris and London. Even though Moore used his artistic connections as inspiration for his poems, they were not to be the breakthrough he hoped; in a review in the Examiner’s “Minor Notices” of 26 January 1878, the poems were labelled “silly”, but with “occasionally some little merit” and derivative, not the glowing review he had hoped for. It is certainly a reasonable statement to say that poetry was not Moore’s primary talent, but any output does provide insights into an author’s style and artistic journey and these have merit for this reason if no other.

  There is a strong thread of sensuality in the collection; the poet talks in the first person of amorous encounters in “Rondo” and “I am most lovely”, seemingly from the perspective of a male and female respectively. There are references to sapphism too – the poem A Sapphic Dream depicts scenes of languorous, white limbed women who “sleep in sumptuous state”, although any suggestion of sexual inversion is moderated by a reference to “the blisses of sexless love”. Although in modern terms the poems are not overtly sexual, they still had the capacity to shock middle class poetry readers, which would have restricted his potential as a popular poet.

  A number of the poems are replicated in a second volume, Pagan Poems and it has been suggested that the latter was intended to be a replacement volume to Flowers of Passion.

  CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  ODE TO A DEAD BODY.

  GINEVRA.

  ANNIE.

  BERNICE.

  SONNET. NIGHT PERFUME.

  RONDO.

  BALLAD OF A LOST SOUL.

  SONNET. THE CORPSE.

  A PAGE OF BOCCACE.

  SONNET. THE SUICIDE.

  SERENADE.

  SONNET. THE LOST PROFILE.

  SONG.

  SONNET. UNATTAINED.

  THE BALCONY.

  SONNET. LOVE’S GRAVE.

  SERENADE.

  SONNET. SUMMER.

  SONNET. LAUS VENERIS.

  RONDEL.

  SONNET. IN CHURCH.

  SONNET. SUMMER ON THE COAST OF NORMANDY.

  A NIGHT OF JUNE.

  SONNET. LA CHAKMBUSB.

  SONG. THE ASSIGNATION.

  SONNET. TO A LOST ART.

  HENDECASYLLABLES. ELIANE. —

  CARMEN.

  SONG.

  LE
SUCCUBE.

  A SAPPHIC DREAM.

  DEDICATION

  TO L — .

  LEAN meward, O beloved! let me crown

  Thy brows with chaplet. Votive wreath I twine

  Of symbol flowers, and therein weave for sign,

  From graft of passion, roses that have grown

  Bitter as frothing of blood; yet cast not down

  As worthless weeds, but set upon Love’s shrine

  In vase full filled with memories of mine,

  These bloomless blossoms of a time long flown.

  Frail fledglings of heart-hidden memories,

  Pale passion flowers I bring to thee, my sweet,

  As Mary brought her offerings of white doves;

  No greater gifts have I to give than these

  Of seeds we sowed. I lay them at thy feet;

  For they are thine, and being thine are Love’s.

  ODE TO A DEAD BODY.

  Is it a garden of eternal sleep

  Where dreams laugh not or weep?

  A place of quiet below the tides of life

  Afar from toil or strife?

  A deep calm sea our souls may yearn unto

  Where memory never flew?

  A darkling void cloaked in a clinging night

  Unstirred by any light?

  The tomb is veiled — these are its mysteries,

  That no man ever sees.

  O! queen of love discrowned and stripped to-day

  Of all thy gold array

  Save the pale gold of thy enwoven hair

  Which drapes thy body bare.

  Thou wast in life a creature of the hour,

  No graver than a flower,

  A gilded fly who played in the high noon

  Of pleasure’s waning moon,

  Until at last thou fellest, a withered leaf

  Worth gathering in no sheaf

  Of memory, to be upstored and kept

  By none who watched and wept.

  Ay verily, thou art a piteous thing,

  So awful is death’s sting.

  Poor shameful lips! that never knew a kiss

  Of innocence, I wis.

  Poor breasts! whose nipples sins alone have fed.