In the Queen's dun a heavy curtain shuts
The sun out and the air is dark and cool.
In Tirnanogue the wind-blown hazel nuts
Drop down through sunlight into a clear pool.
And knowledge dwells where the red berries are
And wisdom among the waters cool and bright,
Wherein deep sunken many a drowned star
Burns with a secret and unearthly light.
Not in the judgment hall shall the Queen find
Wisdom, nor on the breast of warring seas,
But in lost waters where a haunted wind
Rustles the green boughs of the hazel trees.
MAEVE
I have taken from thee, oh Nera, thy green lands,
Yet would I give thee for this song great praise.
NERA
I have a gift for thee, oh Queen, my hands
Are empty now of gifts, I go my ways.
A VOICE IN THE CROWD
This is the man who has bewitched the Queen
With words.
ANOTHER VOICE
He made a mighty and a three-fold curse
And put it on her.
ANOTHER VOICE
What do such songs mean
But treason and red murder? Yea, far worse
Than all these things: contempt poured on the throne
And sovereign power of Connaught.
FERGUS
Let him be;
He's but a fool.
A VOICE IN THE CROWD
Nay, not of him alone
Judge ye, but of the strife and misery
His dreams will bring on the land.
ANOTHER VOICE
Drive him forth
From Connaught.
ANOTHER VOICE
Nay, vengeance is on his brow:
He will make songs in some dun in the North
And put a curse on us.
ANOTHER VOICE
Yea, let us slay him now.
CONAL
Oh, Nera, give me back those lands of mine
Thou knowest of!
NERA
Peace, peace, hot-headed one,
Get thee back to thy cattle and thy swine.
MAEVE
This is a foolish deed that thou hast done.
NERA
'Tis the last folly and the last farewell!
CONAL
Traitor, give forth thy life for thy false tongue,
Thy life for thy treachery.
NERA
The bards shall tell
This tale in the aftertime and songs be sung
How a man slew his brother for lean lands
And scraggy hills, spray-swept by the harsh sea.
CONAL
Were those green fields a waste of shifting sands
Yet would I slay thee.
NERA
Even so, then let it be,
I will give battle unto thy desires
Oh Conal, knowing that this is the end.
Beyond the ivory gate burn starry fires
Where the spheres meet and rushing torrents blend
With peaceful waters, and each broken wave
Of melody flows on from sphere to sphere.
CONAL
Nay, thou shalt find but green grass for a grave,
Yea, in the end shall the green grass be dear
To thy proud soul.
FERGUS
He was no fighter, yet shall he have praise
In the aftertime.
CONAL
'Twere well he were slain,
Else will he come back after many days.
Yea, surely he will bewitch the Queen again.
NERA
Wilt thou not lift my poor gift from the ground?
See it is stained with blood, oh proud Queen!
MAEVE
Nera, these magic primroses were found
In the dim wood where hazel boughs are green
Above enchanted waters.
Withered flowers,
Oh blood-stained primroses, ye speak unto my will
With a harsh cry, a burden of bitter hours
Drowned in blind caverns under the dark hill
Of dreams. . . . .
MAEVE
Now has the hour struck that is the last
Of all my hours. The busy moments cease
To vex me, crowding ever thick and fast
Round my sick soul — beyond the gates of peace
I breathe the air of that wide, quiet sea
Where music has changed the rhythm of all things
To the round measure of Eternity,
And ancient Time with dark and broken wings
Has sunk beneath the waves —
O! lie thou there, thou crown of life and fate,
Now is my heart for ever and ever free
As the free stars beyond the ivory gate.
For the last time these rags of royalty
Cumber the soul: now will I find the way
To Tirnanogue — the way to my own soul,
The way to the world's heart beyond night or day
Or love or hate or any golden goal
Of empire; the inexorable doors
Yield to the passionate rhythms of the wise.
My feet are on the elemental floors,
The fierce aethereal fires dazzle mine eyes.
I did not save thee, Nera, yet will I go
With thee —
FLEEAS
Wilt thou then die with him, oh Maeve?
MAEVE
Nay, nay, fear not, I know
A better way. The hazel branches wave
And sway in the wind, and gentle voices call
From the deep shadows — voices that once I knew
Of those who stand in peace when the stars fall.
In such a place it seems that my soul grew
Out of the darkness long and long ago
At the world's edge.
NERA
Oh! I will follow thee
And greet thee where the quiet waters flow
Under green boughs.
FERGUS
Nay, Queen, this cannot be.
Hast thou forgot thy kingdom and thy throne —
And us who did thy will on the red plain
Of Battle? A king's life is not his own.
MAEVE
It is not given unto kings to reign
For more than a little while —
A CHIEF
Dost thou not know
The royal bonds that bind thy soul to ours,
Thy people, from of old —
MAEVE
Long, long ago
My soul lay deep amongst the roots of flowers
And now, my people wander o'er the hills,
The white-faced daisy and the homeless clan
Of primroses and the most loyal daffodils
Are waiting for me. Since the world began
My soul was bound with many a secret bond
Unto the intimate will of the brown soil
That fought for beauty in green boughs beyond
The wars of men, and with long silent toil
Built up the hills and flowered in the white thorn
And faded in the twilight, and at noon
Lay in thick sunshine on the growing corn
And mixed the gentle magic of the moon
With the soft sighing of the flowing tides
And a dim dream of spirit faces pale
That haunt the woods.
DRUIDESS
Oh Queen, the glory of the world hides
Much grief.
MAEVE
Nay, nay, the primroses are but a veil —
A rag of beauty hiding immortal brows
From easily daunted eyes.
NERA
Oh, most wise Queen,
I will greet thee again under the hazel boughs
In Tirnanogue when the hazel trees are green.
WARRIOR
Nay, sorcerer, that thou shalt never do.
The sun out and the air is dark and cool.
In Tirnanogue the wind-blown hazel nuts
Drop down through sunlight into a clear pool.
And knowledge dwells where the red berries are
And wisdom among the waters cool and bright,
Wherein deep sunken many a drowned star
Burns with a secret and unearthly light.
Not in the judgment hall shall the Queen find
Wisdom, nor on the breast of warring seas,
But in lost waters where a haunted wind
Rustles the green boughs of the hazel trees.
MAEVE
I have taken from thee, oh Nera, thy green lands,
Yet would I give thee for this song great praise.
NERA
I have a gift for thee, oh Queen, my hands
Are empty now of gifts, I go my ways.
A VOICE IN THE CROWD
This is the man who has bewitched the Queen
With words.
ANOTHER VOICE
He made a mighty and a three-fold curse
And put it on her.
ANOTHER VOICE
What do such songs mean
But treason and red murder? Yea, far worse
Than all these things: contempt poured on the throne
And sovereign power of Connaught.
FERGUS
Let him be;
He's but a fool.
A VOICE IN THE CROWD
Nay, not of him alone
Judge ye, but of the strife and misery
His dreams will bring on the land.
ANOTHER VOICE
Drive him forth
From Connaught.
ANOTHER VOICE
Nay, vengeance is on his brow:
He will make songs in some dun in the North
And put a curse on us.
ANOTHER VOICE
Yea, let us slay him now.
CONAL
Oh, Nera, give me back those lands of mine
Thou knowest of!
NERA
Peace, peace, hot-headed one,
Get thee back to thy cattle and thy swine.
MAEVE
This is a foolish deed that thou hast done.
NERA
'Tis the last folly and the last farewell!
CONAL
Traitor, give forth thy life for thy false tongue,
Thy life for thy treachery.
NERA
The bards shall tell
This tale in the aftertime and songs be sung
How a man slew his brother for lean lands
And scraggy hills, spray-swept by the harsh sea.
CONAL
Were those green fields a waste of shifting sands
Yet would I slay thee.
NERA
Even so, then let it be,
I will give battle unto thy desires
Oh Conal, knowing that this is the end.
Beyond the ivory gate burn starry fires
Where the spheres meet and rushing torrents blend
With peaceful waters, and each broken wave
Of melody flows on from sphere to sphere.
CONAL
Nay, thou shalt find but green grass for a grave,
Yea, in the end shall the green grass be dear
To thy proud soul.
FERGUS
He was no fighter, yet shall he have praise
In the aftertime.
CONAL
'Twere well he were slain,
Else will he come back after many days.
Yea, surely he will bewitch the Queen again.
NERA
Wilt thou not lift my poor gift from the ground?
See it is stained with blood, oh proud Queen!
MAEVE
Nera, these magic primroses were found
In the dim wood where hazel boughs are green
Above enchanted waters.
Withered flowers,
Oh blood-stained primroses, ye speak unto my will
With a harsh cry, a burden of bitter hours
Drowned in blind caverns under the dark hill
Of dreams. . . . .
MAEVE
Now has the hour struck that is the last
Of all my hours. The busy moments cease
To vex me, crowding ever thick and fast
Round my sick soul — beyond the gates of peace
I breathe the air of that wide, quiet sea
Where music has changed the rhythm of all things
To the round measure of Eternity,
And ancient Time with dark and broken wings
Has sunk beneath the waves —
O! lie thou there, thou crown of life and fate,
Now is my heart for ever and ever free
As the free stars beyond the ivory gate.
For the last time these rags of royalty
Cumber the soul: now will I find the way
To Tirnanogue — the way to my own soul,
The way to the world's heart beyond night or day
Or love or hate or any golden goal
Of empire; the inexorable doors
Yield to the passionate rhythms of the wise.
My feet are on the elemental floors,
The fierce aethereal fires dazzle mine eyes.
I did not save thee, Nera, yet will I go
With thee —
FLEEAS
Wilt thou then die with him, oh Maeve?
MAEVE
Nay, nay, fear not, I know
A better way. The hazel branches wave
And sway in the wind, and gentle voices call
From the deep shadows — voices that once I knew
Of those who stand in peace when the stars fall.
In such a place it seems that my soul grew
Out of the darkness long and long ago
At the world's edge.
NERA
Oh! I will follow thee
And greet thee where the quiet waters flow
Under green boughs.
FERGUS
Nay, Queen, this cannot be.
Hast thou forgot thy kingdom and thy throne —
And us who did thy will on the red plain
Of Battle? A king's life is not his own.
MAEVE
It is not given unto kings to reign
For more than a little while —
A CHIEF
Dost thou not know
The royal bonds that bind thy soul to ours,
Thy people, from of old —
MAEVE
Long, long ago
My soul lay deep amongst the roots of flowers
And now, my people wander o'er the hills,
The white-faced daisy and the homeless clan
Of primroses and the most loyal daffodils
Are waiting for me. Since the world began
My soul was bound with many a secret bond
Unto the intimate will of the brown soil
That fought for beauty in green boughs beyond
The wars of men, and with long silent toil
Built up the hills and flowered in the white thorn
And faded in the twilight, and at noon
Lay in thick sunshine on the growing corn
And mixed the gentle magic of the moon
With the soft sighing of the flowing tides
And a dim dream of spirit faces pale
That haunt the woods.
DRUIDESS
Oh Queen, the glory of the world hides
Much grief.
MAEVE
Nay, nay, the primroses are but a veil —
A rag of beauty hiding immortal brows
From easily daunted eyes.
NERA
Oh, most wise Queen,
I will greet thee again under the hazel boughs
In Tirnanogue when the hazel trees are green.
WARRIOR
Nay, sorcerer, that thou shalt never do.