Watching as many years as may be, guarding
Our precious jewel; waiting to seize her soul.
FIRST MERCHANT.
We need but hover over her head in the air,
For she has only minutes: when she came
I saw the dimness of the tomb in her,
And marked her walking as with leaden shoes
And looking on the ground as though the worms
Were calling her, and when she wrote her name
Her heart began to break. Hush! hush! I hear
The brazen door of Hell move on its hinges,
And the eternal revelry float hither
To hearten us.
SECOND MERCHANT.
Leap, feathered, on the air
And 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.
ALEEL.
The brazen door stands wide, and Balor comes
Borne in his heavy car, and demons have lifted
The age-weary eyelids from the eyes that of old
Turned gods to stone; Barach the traitor comes;
And the lascivious race, Cailitin,
That cast a druid weakness and decay
Over Sualtam’s and old Dectora’s child;
And that great king Hell first took hold upon
When 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 peace
With 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.
OONA.
Where is the Countess Cathleen? All this day
She has been pale and weakly: when her hand
Touched mine over the spindle her hand trembled,
And now I do not know where she has gone.
ALEEL.
Cathleen 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 drifting
Under the dawn, for she who awoke desire
Has but a heart of blood when others die;
About her is a vapoury multitude
Of women, alluring devils with soft laughter;
Behind her a host heat of the blood made sin,
But all the little pink-white nails have grown
To 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 song
And 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 clay
Should prosper and the porcelain break in two!
[She kisses the hands of the COUNTESS CATHLEEN.
A PEASANT.
We were under the tree where the path turns
When she grew pale as death and fainted away,
And while we bore her hither, cloudy gusts
Blackened the world and shook us on our feet:
Draw the great bolt, for no man has beheld
So black, bitter, blinding, and sudden a storm.
[One who is near the door draws the bolt.
OONA.
Hush, hush, she has awakened from her swoon.
CATHLEEN.
O hold me, and hold me tightly, for the storm
Is dragging me away!
[OONA takes her in her arms. A woman begins to wail.
A PEASANT.
Hush.
ANOTHER PEASANT.
Hush.
A PEASANT WOMAN.
Hush.
ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN.
Hush.
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 say
Who 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 bags
To keep my children till the dearth go by?
ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN.
O Queen of Heaven and all you blessed Saints,
Let us and ours be lost, so she be shriven.
CATHLEEN.
Bend down your faces, Oona and Aleel:
I gaze upon them as the swallow gazes
Upon the nest under the eave, before
He wander the loud waters: do not weep
Too great a while, for there is many a candle
On 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 me
Soft as their sleep when every dance is done:
The storm is in my hair and I must go.
[She dies.
OONA.
Bring me the looking-glass.
[A