Can you tell me, mother,
How I may mend the times, how staunch this wound
That bleeds in the earth, how overturn the famine,
How drive these demons to their darkness again?
OONA.
The demons hold our hearts between their hands,
For the apple is in our blood, and though heart break
There is no medicine but Michael’s trump.
Till it has ended parting and old age
And hail and rain and famine and foolish laughter;
The dead are happy, the dust is in their ears.
ACT III.
Hall of the COUNTESS CATHLEEN as before. SERVANT enters and goes towards the oratory door.
SERVANT.
Here is yet another would see your ladyship.
CATHLEEN [within].
Who calls me?
SERVANT.
There is a man would speak with you,
And by his face he has some pressing news,
Some moving tale.
CATHLEEN [coming to chapel door].
I cannot rest or pray,
For all day long the messengers run hither
On one another’s heels, and every message
More evil than the one that had gone before.
Who is the messenger?
SERVANT.
Aleel, the poet.
CATHLEEN.
There is no hour he is not welcome to me,
Because I know of nothing but a harp-string
That can remember happiness.
[SERVANT goes out and ALEEL comes in.
And now
I grow forgetful of evil for awhile.
ALEEL.
I have come to bid you leave this castle, and fly
Out of these woods.
CATHLEEN.
What evil is there here,
That is not everywhere from this to the sea?
ALEEL.
They who have sent me walk invisible.
CATHLEEN.
Men say that the wise people of the raths
Have given you wisdom.
ALEEL.
I lay in the dusk
Upon the grassy margin of a lake
Among the hills, where none of mortal creatures
But the swan comes—my sleep became a fire.
One walked in the fire with birds about his head.
CATHLEEN.
Ay, Aengus of the birds.
ALEEL.
He may be Aengus,
But it may be he bears an angelical name.
Lady, he bid me call you from these woods;
He bids you bring Oona, your foster-mother,
And some few serving-men and live in the hills
Among the sounds of music and the light
Of waters till the evil days are gone.
[He kneels.]
For here some terrible death is waiting you;
Some unimaginable evil, some great darkness
That fable has not dreamt of, nor sun nor moon
Scattered.
CATHLEEN.
And he had birds about his head?
ALEEL.
Yes, yes, white birds. He bids you leave this house
With some old trusty serving-man, who will feed
All that are starving and shelter all that wander
While there is food and house-room.
CATHLEEN.
He bids me go
Where none of mortal creatures but the swan
Dabbles, and there you would pluck the harp when the trees
Had made a heavy shadow about our door,
And talk among the rustling of the reeds
When night hunted the foolish sun away,
With stillness and pale tapers. No—no—no.
I cannot. Although I weep, I do not weep
Because that life would be most happy, and here
I find no way, no end. Nor do I weep
Because I had longed to look upon your face,
But that a night of prayer has made me weary.
ALEEL.
[Throwing his arms about her feet.]
Let Him that made mankind, the angels and devils
And death and plenty mend what He has made,
For when we labour in vain and eye still sees
Heart breaks in vain.
CATHLEEN.
How would that quiet end?
ALEEL.
How but in healing?
CATHLEEN.
You have seen my tears.
And I can see your hand shake on the floor.
ALEEL [faltering].
I thought but of healing. He was angelical.
CATHLEEN.
[Turning away from him.]
No, not angelical, but of the old gods,
Who wander about the world to waken the heart—
The passionate, proud heart that all the angels
Leaving nine heavens empty would rock to sleep.
[She goes to the chapel door; ALEEL holds his clasped hands towards her for a moment hesitatingly, and then lets them fall beside him.
Do not hold out to me beseeching hands.
This heart shall never waken on earth. I have sworn
By her whose heart the seven sorrows have pierced
To pray before this altar until my heart
Has grown to Heaven like a tree, and there
Rustled its leaves till Heaven has saved my people.
ALEEL [who has risen].
When one so great has spoken of love to one
So little