Out of the depths of the crystal spheres
To the wind-blown world a spirit came,
And from the joy of her shining years
She brought but a little waving flame.
The winds of the world blew strong to scorch
With the burning dream her crystal mind.
Alas, for the spirit that held the torch!
Alas, for a flame blown by the wind!
Alas, for the wild desire that stole
From the opal's heart the spark divine,
For the flame has burnt through her inmost soul
And cracked and blackened its crystal shrine.
MESSENGEE
Does any evil thing threaten the Queen?
THE OLD WOMAN
She will find her lonely amongst the dead.
MESSENGER
That was a strange song: surely thou hast seen
A vision or dreamed some dark dream of dread.
THE OLD WOMAN
The flame has cracked and scorched its crystal shrine. . . . .
MESSENGER
Cease thou thy riddles, who may understand
These twisted dreams and subtle words of thine?
Speak thou the common speech of all the land.
THE OLD WOMAN
There is no need for words, it is too late —
MESSENGER
Dost thou see anything?
THE OLD WOMAN
On the grass outside
I hear the swift foot-fall of fate,
I know that she will find what she sought.
SECOND MESSENGER
Where is the Princess Fionavar?
THE OLD WOMAN
She has gone forth to meet the High-Queen Maeve.
SECOND MESSENGER
The Queen drives homeward in her battle-car,
Crushing the grass where many a new-made grave
Shall soon be heaped; she bids the Princess stay
Her coming here; her soul is strangely rent
With evil dreams and bodings. Canst thou say
Where I shall find the Princess?
THE OLD WOMAN
This way she went.
SECOND MESSENGER
How shall I know her, lady; by what signs?
THE OLD WOMAN
She is young and tall, like a tall meadow flower,
Delicate-wristed, with a sword that shines
Guiltless of blood. Stay: in an evil hour
She bound the golden cath-barr on her head
That marks for all the world her royal birth.
SECOND MESSENGER
I would know her among the living or the dead
By the gold circle of the kings of earth.
FIRST MESSENGER
What dost thou fear? Why is thy soul downcast?
THE OLD WOMAN
She has gone out into a world of woe
At twilight.
FIRST MESSENGER
Surely all danger is past.
THE OLD WOMAN
Danger is never past while rivers flow
Down to the sea, and white spring flowers fade
In the sharp winds, while every weary year
Autumn makes barren the green forest glade.
Thinking these thoughts my heart is full of fear.
FIRST MESSENGER
These are the foolish fancies of the old,
Their dreams are ever but a craven throng
Of fears, their hearts beat slow — their blood is cold.
THE OLD WOMAN
Oh! spirit of youth, thou doest the world wrong,
The sunny April world, where old and new,
The aged earth and the young growing flowers
Are lit by rainbow dreams the whole day through;
But the pale primrose-haunted twilight hours
Gazing at old unfathomable things,
Crowd round the threshold of the nearer stars
And beat the blue air with their weary wings —
Believe me, the old behind their prison bars
Have lit strange altar fires.
FIRST MESSENGER
I hear the sound
Of galloping horses.
THE OLD WOMAN
It is the Queen!
Grief is on me, I am bowed to the ground,
I would that all this sorrow had not been.
M AEVE
Where is Fionavar?
THE OLD WOMAN
Oh! great Queen, blame me not
For I am old.
MAEVE
Where is Fionavar?
THE OLD WOMAN
I know not. She fled like an arrow shot
Into the twilight gray, without a star.
I am old and feeble and my sight is weak.
MAEVE
Oh fool, fool, fool, why didst thou let her go?
THE OLD WOMAN
There was her dream that she went forth to seek.
MAEVE
She has found the gates of the world's woe
And flung them wide for me to enter in.
Did I not leave her young life to thy care?
Oh! she was better in the fury and din
Of battle. There is no safety anywhere.
Old woman, hast thou then no words to say?
THE OLD WOMAN
I thought I heard music.
MAEVE
Who are these
Who sing such strange songs? They pass on their way
In slow procession winding through the trees.
THE OLD WOMAN
It is the bearers carrying the dead,
A warrior lying on a golden shield.
MAEVE
Alas, the vision — there was much blood shed
Not hers. I kept her from the battle-field,
I kept her from the sight of my sad eyes —
I could not keep her from my dreams.
DRUIDESS
She died
On the battle-field.
MAEVE
Oh thou most wise
Canst thou not save her?
DRUIDESS
Nay, the dead abide.
To the wind-blown world a spirit came,
And from the joy of her shining years
She brought but a little waving flame.
The winds of the world blew strong to scorch
With the burning dream her crystal mind.
Alas, for the spirit that held the torch!
Alas, for a flame blown by the wind!
Alas, for the wild desire that stole
From the opal's heart the spark divine,
For the flame has burnt through her inmost soul
And cracked and blackened its crystal shrine.
MESSENGEE
Does any evil thing threaten the Queen?
THE OLD WOMAN
She will find her lonely amongst the dead.
MESSENGER
That was a strange song: surely thou hast seen
A vision or dreamed some dark dream of dread.
THE OLD WOMAN
The flame has cracked and scorched its crystal shrine. . . . .
MESSENGER
Cease thou thy riddles, who may understand
These twisted dreams and subtle words of thine?
Speak thou the common speech of all the land.
THE OLD WOMAN
There is no need for words, it is too late —
MESSENGER
Dost thou see anything?
THE OLD WOMAN
On the grass outside
I hear the swift foot-fall of fate,
I know that she will find what she sought.
SECOND MESSENGER
Where is the Princess Fionavar?
THE OLD WOMAN
She has gone forth to meet the High-Queen Maeve.
SECOND MESSENGER
The Queen drives homeward in her battle-car,
Crushing the grass where many a new-made grave
Shall soon be heaped; she bids the Princess stay
Her coming here; her soul is strangely rent
With evil dreams and bodings. Canst thou say
Where I shall find the Princess?
THE OLD WOMAN
This way she went.
SECOND MESSENGER
How shall I know her, lady; by what signs?
THE OLD WOMAN
She is young and tall, like a tall meadow flower,
Delicate-wristed, with a sword that shines
Guiltless of blood. Stay: in an evil hour
She bound the golden cath-barr on her head
That marks for all the world her royal birth.
SECOND MESSENGER
I would know her among the living or the dead
By the gold circle of the kings of earth.
FIRST MESSENGER
What dost thou fear? Why is thy soul downcast?
THE OLD WOMAN
She has gone out into a world of woe
At twilight.
FIRST MESSENGER
Surely all danger is past.
THE OLD WOMAN
Danger is never past while rivers flow
Down to the sea, and white spring flowers fade
In the sharp winds, while every weary year
Autumn makes barren the green forest glade.
Thinking these thoughts my heart is full of fear.
FIRST MESSENGER
These are the foolish fancies of the old,
Their dreams are ever but a craven throng
Of fears, their hearts beat slow — their blood is cold.
THE OLD WOMAN
Oh! spirit of youth, thou doest the world wrong,
The sunny April world, where old and new,
The aged earth and the young growing flowers
Are lit by rainbow dreams the whole day through;
But the pale primrose-haunted twilight hours
Gazing at old unfathomable things,
Crowd round the threshold of the nearer stars
And beat the blue air with their weary wings —
Believe me, the old behind their prison bars
Have lit strange altar fires.
FIRST MESSENGER
I hear the sound
Of galloping horses.
THE OLD WOMAN
It is the Queen!
Grief is on me, I am bowed to the ground,
I would that all this sorrow had not been.
M AEVE
Where is Fionavar?
THE OLD WOMAN
Oh! great Queen, blame me not
For I am old.
MAEVE
Where is Fionavar?
THE OLD WOMAN
I know not. She fled like an arrow shot
Into the twilight gray, without a star.
I am old and feeble and my sight is weak.
MAEVE
Oh fool, fool, fool, why didst thou let her go?
THE OLD WOMAN
There was her dream that she went forth to seek.
MAEVE
She has found the gates of the world's woe
And flung them wide for me to enter in.
Did I not leave her young life to thy care?
Oh! she was better in the fury and din
Of battle. There is no safety anywhere.
Old woman, hast thou then no words to say?
THE OLD WOMAN
I thought I heard music.
MAEVE
Who are these
Who sing such strange songs? They pass on their way
In slow procession winding through the trees.
THE OLD WOMAN
It is the bearers carrying the dead,
A warrior lying on a golden shield.
MAEVE
Alas, the vision — there was much blood shed
Not hers. I kept her from the battle-field,
I kept her from the sight of my sad eyes —
I could not keep her from my dreams.
DRUIDESS
She died
On the battle-field.
MAEVE
Oh thou most wise
Canst thou not save her?
DRUIDESS
Nay, the dead abide.