The Collected Works in Verse and Prose of William Butler Yeats. Volume 3 of 8. The Countess Cathleen. The Land of Heart's Desire. The Unicorn from the Stars

SECOND MERCHANTHis gaze has filled me, brother,With shaking and a dreadful fear.FIRST MERCHANTLean forwardAnd kiss the circlet where my master’s lipsWere pressed upon it when he sent us hither:You will have peace once more.

[The SECOND MERCHANT kisses the gold circlet that is about the head of the FIRST MERCHANT.

SHEMUSHe is called Aleel,And has been crazy now these many days;But has no harm in him: his fits soon pass,And one can go and lead him like a child.FIRST MERCHANTCome, deal, deal, deal, deal, deal; you are all dumb?SHEMUSThey say you beat the woman down too low.FIRST MERCHANTI offer this great price: a thousand crownsFor an old woman who was always ugly.

[An old peasant woman comes forward, and he takes up a parchment and reads.]

There is but little set down here against her;She stole fowl sometimes when the harvest failed,But always went to chapel twice a week,And paid her dues when prosperous. Take your money.THE OLD PEASANT WOMAN [curtseying]God bless you, sir. [She screams.O, sir, a pain went through me.FIRST MERCHANTThat name is like a fire to all damned souls.Begone. [She goes.] See how the red gold pieces glitter.Deal: do you fear because an old hag screamed?Are you all cowards?A PEASANTNay, I am no coward.I will sell half my soul.FIRST MERCHANTHow half your soul?THE PEASANTHalf my chance of heaven.FIRST MERCHANTIt is writ hereThis man in all things takes the moderate course,He sits on midmost of the balance beam,And no man has had good of him or evil.Begone, we will not buy you.SECOND MERCHANTDeal, come, deal.FIRST MERCHANTWhat, will you keep us from our ancient home,And from the eternal revelry? Come, deal,And we will hence to our great master again.Come, deal, deal, deal.THE PEASANTS SHOUTThe Countess Cathleen comes!CATHLEEN [entering]And so you trade once more?FIRST MERCHANTIn spite of you.What brings you here, saint with the sapphire eyes?CATHLEENI come to barter a soul for a great price.FIRST MERCHANTWhat matter if the soul be worth the price?CATHLEENThe people starve, therefore the people goThronging to you. I hear a cry come from them,And it is in my ears by night and day;And I would have five hundred thousand crowns,That I may feed them till the dearth go by;And have the wretched spirits you have boughtFor your gold crowns released and sent to God.The soul that I would barter is my soul.A PEASANTDo not, do not; the souls of us poor folkAre not precious to God as your soul is.O! what would heaven do without you, lady?ANOTHER PEASANTLook how their claws clutch in their leathern gloves.FIRST MERCHANTFive hundred thousand crowns; we give the price,The gold is here; the spirits, while you speak,Begin to labour upward, for your faceSheds a great light on them and fills their heartsWith those unveilings of the fickle light,Whereby our heavy labours have been marredSince first His spirit moved upon the deepsAnd stole them from us; even before this dayThe souls were but half ours, for your bright eyesHad pierced them through and robbed them of content.But you must sign, for we omit no formIn buying a soul like yours; sign with this quill;It was a feather growing on the cockThat crowed when Peter dared deny his Master,And all who use it have great honour in Hell.[CATHLEEN leans forward to sign.ALEEL

[Rushing forward and snatching the parchment from her.]

Leave all things to the builder of the heavens.CATHLEENI have no thoughts: I hear a cry – a cry.ALEEL

[Casting the parchment on the ground.]

I had a vision under a green hedge,A hedge of hips and haws – men yet shall hearThe archangels rolling Satan’s empty skullOver the mountain-tops.FIRST MERCHANTTake him away.

[TEIG and SHEMUS drag him roughly away so that he falls upon the floor among the peasants. CATHLEEN picks up the parchment and signs, and then turns towards the peasants.

CATHLEENTake up the money; and now come with me.When we are far from this polluted placeI will give everybody money enough.

[She goes out, the peasants crowding round her and kissing her dress. ALEEL and the TWO MERCHANTS are left alone.

SECOND MERCHANTNow are our days of heavy labour done.FIRST MERCHANTWe have a precious jewel for Satan’s crown.SECOND MERCHANTWe must away, and wait until she dies,Sitting above her tower as two gray owls,Watching as many years as may be, guardingOur precious jewel; waiting to seize her soul.FIRST MERCHANTWe need but hover over her head in the air,For she has only minutes: when she cameI saw the dimness of the tomb in her,And marked her walking as with leaden shoesAnd looking on the ground as though the wormsWere calling her, and when she wrote her nameHer heart began to break. Hush! hush! I hearThe brazen door of Hell move on its hinges,And the eternal revelry float hitherTo hearten us.SECOND MERCHANTLeap, feathered, on the airAnd meet them with her soul caught in your claws.

[They rush out. ALEEL crawls into the middle of the room. The twilight has fallen and gradually darkens as the scene goes on. There is a distant muttering of thunder and a sound of rising storm.

ALEELThe brazen door stands wide, and Balor comesBorne in his heavy car, and demons have liftedThe age-weary eyelids from the eyes that of oldTurned gods to stone; Barach the traitor comes;And the lascivious race, Cailitin,That cast a druid weakness and decayOver Sualtam’s and old Dectora’s child;And that great king Hell first took hold uponWhen he killed Naisi and broke Deirdre’s heart;And all their heads are twisted to one side,For when they lived they warred on beauty and peaceWith obstinate, crafty, sidelong bitterness.

[OONA enters, but remains standing by the door. ALEEL half rises, leaning upon one arm and one knee.]

Crouch down, old heron, out of the blind storm.OONAWhere is the Countess Cathleen? All this dayShe has been pale and weakly: when her handTouched mine over the spindle her hand trembled,And now I do not know where she has gone.ALEELCathleen has chosen other friends than us,And they are rising through the hollow world.[He points downwards.First, Orchil, her pale beautiful head alive,Her body shadowy as vapour driftingUnder the dawn, for she who awoke desireHas but a heart of blood when others die;About her is a vapoury multitudeOf women, alluring devils with soft laughter;Behind her a host heat of the blood made sin,But all the little pink-white nails have grownTo be great talons.

[He seizes OONA and drags her into the middle of the room and points downwards with vehement gestures. The wind roars.]

They begin a songAnd there is still some music on their tongues.OONA

[Casting herself face downwards on the floor.]

O maker of all, protect her from the demons,And if a soul must needs be lost, take mine.

[ALEEL kneels beside her, but does not seem to hear her words; he is gazing down as if through the earth. The peasants return. They carry the COUNTESS CATHLEEN and lay her upon the ground before OONA and ALEEL. She lies there as if dead.]

O that so many pitchers of rough clayShould prosper and the porcelain break in two!

[She kisses the hands of the COUNTESS CATHLEEN.

A PEASANTWe were under the tree where the path turnsWhen she grew pale as death and fainted away,And while we bore her hither, cloudy gustsBlackened the world and shook us on our feet:Draw the great bolt, for no man has beheldSo black, bitter, blinding, and sudden a storm.[One who is near the door draws the bolt.OONAHush, hush, she has awakened from her swoon.CATHLEENO hold me, and hold me tightly, for the stormIs dragging me away!

[OONA takes her in her arms. A woman begins to wail.

A PEASANTHush.ANOTHER PEASANTHush.A PEASANT WOMANHush.ANOTHER PEASANT WOMANHush.CATHLEEN [half rising]Lay all the bags of money at my feet.[They lay the bags at her feet.And send and bring old Neal when I am dead,And bid him hear each man and judge and give:He doctors you with herbs, and can best sayWho has the less and who the greater need.A PEASANT WOMAN[At the back of the crowd.]And will he give enough out of the bagsTo keep my children till the dearth go by?ANOTHER PEASANT WOMANO Queen of Heaven and all you blessed Saints,Let us and ours be lost, so she be shriven.CATHLEENBend down your faces, Oona and Aleel:I gaze upon them as the swallow gazesUpon the nest under the eave, beforeHe wander the loud waters: do not weepToo great a while, for there is many a candleOn the high altar though one fall. Aleel,Who sang about the people of the raths,That know not the hard burden of the world,Having but breath in their kind bodies, farewell!And farewell, Oona, who spun flax with meSoft as their sleep when every dance is done:The storm is in my hair and I must go.[She dies.OONABring me the looking-glass.

[A woman brings it to her out of the inner room. OONA holds the glass over the lips of the COUNTESS CATHLEEN. All is silent for a moment; and then she speaks in a half scream.]

O, she is dead!A PEASANT WOMANShe was the great white lily of the world.ANOTHER PEASANT WOMANShe was more beautiful than the pale stars.AN OLD PEASANT WOMANThe little plant I loved is broken in two.

[ALEEL takes the looking-glass from OONA and flings it upon the floor so that it is broken in many pieces.

ALEELI shatter you in fragments, for the faceThat brimmed you up with beauty is no more:And die, dull heart, for she whose mournful wordsMade you a living spirit has passed awayAnd left you but a ball of passionate dust;And you, proud earth and plumy sea, fade out,For you may hear no more her faltering feet,But are left lonely amid the clamorous warOf angels upon devils.

[He stands up; almost everyone is kneeling, but it has grown so dark that only confused forms can be seen.]

And I who weepCall curses on you, Time and Fate and Change,And have no excellent hope but the great hourWhen you shall plunge headlong through bottomless space.[A flash of lightning followed immediately by thunder.A PEASANT WOMANPull him upon his knees before his cursesHave plucked thunder and lightning on our heads.ALEELAngels and devils clash in the middle air,And brazen swords clang upon brazen helms:

[A flash of lightning followed immediately by thunder.]

Yonder a bright spear, cast out of a sling,Has torn through Balor’s eye, and the dark clansFly screaming as they fled Moytura of old.[Everything is lost in darkness.AN OLD MANThe Almighty, wrath at our great weakness and sin,Has blotted out the world and we must die.

[The darkness is broken by a visionary light. The peasants seem to be kneeling upon the rocky slope of a mountain, and vapour full of storm and ever-changing light is sweeping above them and behind them. Half in the light, half in the shadow, stand armed Angels. Their armour is old and worn, and their drawn swords dim and dinted. They stand as if upon the air in formation of battle and look downward with stern faces. The peasants cast themselves on the ground.

ALEELLook no more on the half-closed gates of Hell,But speak to me, whose mind is smitten of God,That it may be no more with mortal things;And tell of her who lies here.[He seizes one of the Angels.] Till you speakYou shall not drift into eternity.THE ANGELThe light beats down: the gates of pearl are wide,And she is passing to the floor of peace,And Mary of the seven times wounded heartHas kissed her lips, and the long blessed hairHas fallen on her face; the Light of LightsLooks always on the motive, not the deed,The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone.[ALEEL releases the Angel and kneels.OONATell them who walk upon the floor of peaceThat I would die and go to her I love;The years like great black oxen tread the world,And God the herdsman goads them on behind,And I am broken by their passing feet.

[A sound of far-off horns seems to come from the heart of the light. The vision melts away, and the forms of the kneeling peasants appear faintly in the darkness.]

THE LAND OF HEART’S DESIRE

‘O Rose, thou art sick.’ —William Blake.

To Florence Farr

PERSONS IN THE PLAY

MAURTEEN BRUIN

SHAWN BRUIN

FATHER HART

BRIDGET BRUIN

MAIRE BRUIN

A FAERY CHILD

The scene is laid in the Barony of Kilmacowen, in the County of Sligo, and the characters are supposed to speak in Gaelic. They wear the costume of a century ago

THE LAND OF HEART’S DESIRE

The kitchen of MAURTEEN BRUIN’S house. An open grate with a turf fire is at the left side of the room, with a table in front of it. There is a door leading to the open air at the back, and another door a little to its left, leading into an inner room. There is a window, a settle, and a large dresser on the right side of the room, and a great bowl of primroses on the sill of the window. MAURTEEN BRUIN, FATHER HART, and BRIDGET BRUIN are sitting at the table. SHAWN BRUIN is setting the table for supper. MAIRE BRUIN sits on the settle reading a yellow manuscript.

BRIDGET BRUINBecause I bade her go and feed the calves,She took that old book down out of the thatchAnd has been doubled over it all day.We would be deafened by her groans and moansHad she to work as some do, Father Hart,Get up at dawn like me, and mend and scour;Or ride abroad in the boisterous night like you,The pyx and blessed bread under your arm.SHAWN BRUINYou are too cross.BRIDGET BRUINThe young side with the young.MAURTEEN BRUINShe quarrels with my wife a bit at times,And is too deep just now in the old book,But do not blame her greatly; she will growAs quiet as a puff-ball in a treeWhen but the moons of marriage dawn and dieFor half a score of times.FATHER HARTTheir hearts are wildAs be the hearts of birds, till children come.BRIDGET BRUINShe would not mind the griddle, milk the cow,Or even lay the knives and spread the cloth.FATHER HARTI never saw her read a book before;What may it be?MAURTEEN BRUINI do not rightly know;It has been in the thatch for fifty years.My father told me my grandfather wrote it,Killed a red heifer and bound it with the hide.But draw your chair this way – supper is spread.And little good he got out of the book,Because it filled his house with roaming bards,And roaming ballad-makers and the like,And wasted all his goods. – Here is the wine:The griddle bread’s beside you, Father Hart.Colleen, what have you got there in the bookThat you must leave the bread to cool? Had I,Or had my father, read or written booksThere were no stocking full of silver and goldTo come, when I am dead, to Shawn and you.FATHER HARTYou should not fill your head with foolish dreams.What are you reading?MAIRE BRUINHow a Princess Edain,A daughter of a King of Ireland, heardA voice singing on a May Eve like this,And followed, half awake and half asleep,Until she came into the land of faery,Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue;And she is still there, busied with a dance,Deep in the dewy shadow of a wood,Or where stars walk upon a mountain-top.MAURTEEN BRUINPersuade the colleen to put by the book:My grandfather would mutter just such things,And he was no judge of a dog or horse,And any idle boy could blarney him:Just speak your mind.FATHER HARTPut it away, my colleen.God spreads the heavens above us like great wings,And gives a little round of deeds and days,And then come the wrecked angels and set snares,And bait them with light hopes and heavy dreams,Until the heart is puffed with pride and goes,Half shuddering and half joyous, from God’s peace:And it was some wrecked angel, blind from tears,Who flattered Edain’s heart with merry words.My colleen, I have seen some other girlsRestless and ill at ease, but years went byAnd they grew like their neighbours and were gladIn minding children, working at the churn,And gossiping of weddings and of wakes;For life moves out of a red flare of dreamsInto a common light of common hours,Until old age bring the red flare again.SHAWN BRUINYet do not blame her greatly, Father Hart,For she is dull while I am in the fields,And mother’s tongue were harder still to bear,But for her fancies: this is May Eve too,When the good people post about the world,And surely one may think of them to-night.Maire, have you the primroses to flingBefore the door to make a golden pathFor them to bring good luck into the house?Remember, they may steal new-married bridesAfter the fall of twilight on May Eve.

[MAIRE BRUIN goes over to the window and takes flowers from the bowl and strews them outside the door.

FATHER HARTYou do well, daughter, because God permitsGreat power to the good people on May Eve.SHAWN BRUINThey can work all their will with primroses;Change them to golden money, or little flamesTo burn up those who do them any wrong.MAIRE BRUIN [in a dreamy voice]I had no sooner flung them by the doorThan the wind cried and hurried them away;And then a child came running in the windAnd caught them in her hands and fondled them:Her dress was green: her hair was of red gold;Her face was pale as water before dawn.FATHER HARTWhose child can this be?MAURTEEN BRUINNo one’s child at all.She often dreams that someone has gone byWhen there was nothing but a puff of wind.MAIRE BRUINThey will not bring good luck into the house,For they have blown the primroses away;Yet I am glad that I was courteous to them,For are not they, likewise, children of God?FATHER HARTColleen, they are the children of the Fiend,And they have power until the end of Time,When God shall fight with them a great pitched battleAnd hack them into pieces.MAIRE BRUINHe will smile,Father, perhaps, and open His great door,And call the pretty and kind into His house.FATHER HARTDid but the lawless angels see that door,They would fall, slain by everlasting peace;And when such angels knock upon our doorsWho goes with them must drive through the same storm.

[A knock at the door. MAIRE BRUIN opens it and then goes to the dresser and fills a porringer with milk and hands it through the door and takes it back empty and closes the door.

MAIRE BRUINA little queer old woman cloaked in green,Who came to beg a porringer of milk.BRIDGET BRUINThe good people go asking milk and fireUpon May Eve. – Woe on the house that gives,For they have power upon it for a year.I knew you would bring evil on the house.MAURTEEN BRUINWho was she?MAIRE BRUINBoth the tongue and face were strange.MAURTEEN BRUINSome strangers came last week to Clover Hill;She must be one of them.BRIDGET BRUINI am afraid.MAURTEEN BRUINThe priest will keep all harm out of the house.FATHER HARTThe cross will keep all harm out of the houseWhile it hangs there.MAURTEEN BRUINCome, sit beside me, colleen,And put away your dreams of discontent,For I would have you light up my last daysLike a bright torch of pine, and when I dieI will make you the wealthiest hereabout:For hid away where nobody can findI have a stocking full of silver and gold.BRIDGET BRUINYou are the fool of every pretty face,And I must pinch and pare that my son’s wifeMay have all kinds of ribbons for her head.MAURTEEN BRUINDo not be cross; she is a right good girl!The butter is by your elbow, Father Hart.My colleen, have not Fate and Time and ChangeDone well for me and for old Bridget there?We have a hundred acres of good land,And sit beside each other at the fire,The wise priest of our parish to our right,And you and our dear son to left of us.To sit beside the board and drink good wineAnd watch the turf smoke coiling from the fireAnd feel content and wisdom in your heart,This is the best of life; when we are youngWe long to tread a way none trod before,But find the excellent old way through loveAnd through the care of children to the hourFor bidding Fate and Time and Change good-bye.

[A knock at the door. MAIRE BRUIN opens it and then takes a sod of turf out of the hearth in the tongs and passes it through the door and closes the door and remains standing by it.

MAIRE BRUINA little queer old man in a green coat,Who asked a burning sod to light his pipe.BRIDGET BRUINYou have now given milk and fire, and brought,For all you know, evil upon the house.Before you married you were idle and fine,And went about with ribbons on your head;And now you are a good-for-nothing wife.SHAWN BRUINBe quiet, mother!MAURTEEN BRUINYou are much too cross!MAIRE BRUINWhat do I care if I have given this house,Where I must hear all day a bitter tongue,Into the power of faeries!BRIDGET BRUINYou know wellHow calling the good people by that nameOr talking of them over-much at allMay bring all kinds of evil on the house.MAIRE BRUINCome, faeries, take me out of this dull house!Let me have all the freedom I have lost;Work when I will and idle when I will!Faeries, come, take me out of this dull world,For I would ride with you upon the wind,Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,And dance upon the mountains like a flame!FATHER HARTYou cannot know the meaning of your words.MAIRE BRUINFather, I am right weary of four tongues:A tongue that is too crafty and too wise,A tongue that is too godly and too grave,A tongue that is more bitter than the tide,And a kind tongue too full of drowsy love,Of drowsy love and my captivity.

[SHAWN BRUIN comes over to her and leads her to the settle.

SHAWN BRUINDo not blame me; I often lie awakeThinking that all things trouble your bright head —How beautiful it is – such broad pale browsUnder a cloudy blossoming of hair!Sit down beside me here – these are too old,And have forgotten they were ever young.MAIRE BRUINO, you are the great door-post of this house,And I, the red nasturtium, climbing up.

[She takes SHAWN’S hand, but looks shyly at the priest and lets it go.

FATHER HARTGood daughter, take his hand – by love aloneGod binds us to Himself and to the hearthAnd shuts us from the waste beyond His peace,From maddening freedom and bewildering light.SHAWN BRUINWould that the world were mine to give it youWith every quiet hearth and barren waste,The maddening freedom of its woods and tides,And the bewildering light upon its hills.MAIRE BRUINThen I would take and break it in my handsTo see you smile watching it crumble away.SHAWN BRUINThen I would mould a world of fire and dewWith no one bitter, grave, or over-wise,And nothing marred or old to do you wrong;And crowd the enraptured quiet of the skyWith candles burning to your lonely face.MAIRE BRUINYour looks are all the candles that I need.SHAWN BRUINOnce a fly dancing in a beam of the sun,Or the light wind blowing out of the dawn,Could fill your heart with dreams none other knew,But now the indissoluble sacramentHas mixed your heart that was most proud and coldWith my warm heart for ever; and sun and moonMust fade and heaven be rolled up like a scroll;But your white spirit still walk by my spirit.

[A VOICE sings in the distance.

MAIRE BRUINDid you hear something call? O, guard me close,Because I have said wicked things to-night;And seen a pale-faced child with red-gold hair,And longed to dance upon the winds with her.A VOICE [close to the door]The wind blows out of the gates of the day,The wind blows over the lonely of heart,And the lonely of heart is withered away,While the faeries dance in a place apart,Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring,Tossing their milk-white arms in the air;For they hear the wind laugh, and murmur and singOf a land where even the old are fair,And even the wise are merry of tongue;But I heard a reed of Coolaney say,‘When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung,The lonely of heart is withered away!’MAURTEEN BRUINI am right happy, and would make all elseBe happy too. I hear a child outside,And will go bring her in out of the cold.

[He opens the door. A CHILD dressed in pale green and with red-gold hair comes into the house.

THE CHILDI tire of winds and waters and pale lights!MAURTEEN BRUINYou are most welcome. It is cold out there;Who’d think to face such cold on a May Eve?THE CHILDAnd when I tire of this warm little houseThere is one here who must away, away,To where the woods, the stars, and the white streamsAre holding a continual festival.MAURTEEN BRUINO listen to her dreamy and strange talk.Come to the fire.THE CHILDI will sit upon your knee,For I have run from where the winds are born,And long to rest my feet a little while.[She sits upon his knee.BRIDGET BRUINHow pretty you are!MAURTEEN BRUINYour hair is wet with dew!BRIDGET BRUINI will warm your chilly feet.

[She takes THE CHILD’S feet in her hands.

MAURTEEN BRUINYou must have comeA long, long way, for I have never seenYour pretty face, and must be tired and hungry;Here is some bread and wine.THE CHILDThe wine is bitter.Old mother, have you no sweet food for me?BRIDGET BRUINI have some honey![She goes into the next room.MAURTEEN BRUINYou are a dear child;The mother was quite cross before you came.

[BRIDGET returns with the honey, and goes to the dresser and fills a porringer with milk.