| to it: |
| Being driven on by voices and by dreams |
| That were clear messages from the Ever-living, |
| I have
done right. What could I but obey? |
| And yet you make a clamour of reproach. |
|
|
|
|
| Dectora [laughing]. Why,
its a wonder out of reckoning |
| That I should keen him from the full of the moon |
| To the horn, and he be
hale and hearty. |
|
|
|
|
| Forgael. How have I wronged her now that she is merry? |
| But no, no, no! your cry is
not against me. |
| You know the counsels of the Ever-living, |
| And all that tossing of your wings is joy, |
| And
all that murmurings but a marriage-song; |
| But if it be reproach, I answer this: |
| There is not one among
you that made love |
| By any other means. You call it passion, |
| Consideration, generosity; |
| But it was all
deceit, and flattery |
| To win a woman in her own despite, |
| For love is war, and there is hatred in it; |
| And
if you say that she came willingly |
|
|
|
|
| Dectora. Why do you turn away and hide your face, |
| That I would
look upon for ever? |
|
|
|
|
| Forgael. My grief! |
|
|
|
|
| Dectora. Have I not loved you for a thousand years? |
|
|
|
|
| Forgael.
I never have been golden-armed Iollan. |
|
|
|
|
| Dectora. I do not understand. I know your face |
| Better than
my own hands. |
|
|
|
|
| Forgael. I have deceived you |
| Out of all reckoning. |
|
|
|
|
| Dectora. Is it not true |
| That you
were born a thousand years ago, |
| In islands where the children of Aengus wind |
| In happy dances under a
windy moon, |
| And that youll bring me there? |
|
|
|
|
| Forgael. I have deceived you; |
| I have deceived you utterly. |
|
|
|
|
| Dectora. How can that be? |
| Is it that though your eyes are full of love |
| Some other woman has a claim
on you, |
| And Ive but half? |
|
|
|
|
| Forgael. O no! |
|
|
|
|
| Dectora. And if there is, |
| If there be half a hundred more,
what matter? |
| Ill never give another thought to it; |
| No, no, nor half a thought; but do not speak. |
| Women
are hard and proud and stubborn-hearted, |
| Their heads being turned with praise and flattery; |
| And that is
why their lovers are afraid |
| To tell them a plain story. |
|
|
|
|
| Forgael. Thats not the story; |
| But I have done so
great a wrong against you, |
| There is no measure that it would not burst. |
| I will confess it all. |
|
|
|
|
| Dectora.
What do I care, |
| Now that my body has begun to dream, |
| And you have grown to be a burning sod |
| In the
imagination and intellect? |
| If something thats most fabulous were true |
| If you had taken me by magic
spells, |
| And killed a lover or husband at my feet |
| I would not let you speak, for I would know |
| That it
was yesterday and not to-day |
| I loved him; I would cover up my ears, |
| As I am doing now. [A pause.] Why
do you weep? |
|
|
|
|
| Forgael. I weep because Ive nothing for your eyes |
| But desolate waters and a battered
ship. |
|
|
|
|
| Dectora. O why do you not lift your eyes to mine? |
|
|
|
|
| Forgael. I weepI weep because bare nights
above, |
| And not a roof of ivory and gold. |
|
|
|
|
| Dectora. I would grow jealous of the ivory roof, |
| And strike the
golden pillars with my hands. |
| I would that there was nothing in the world |
| But my belovedthat night
and day had perished, |
| And all that is and all that is to be, |
| All that is not the meeting of our lips. |
|
|
|
|
| Forgael.
You turn away. Why do you turn away? |
| Am I to fear the waves, or is the moon |
| My enemy? |
|
|
|
|
| Dectora.
I looked upon the moon, |
| Longing to knead and pull it into shape |
| That I might lay it on your head as a
crown. |
| But now it is your thoughts that wander away, |
| For you are looking at the sea. Do you not know |
| How
great a wrong it is to let ones thought |
| Wander a moment when one is in love? |
| [He has moved
away. She follows him. He is looking out over the sea, shading his eyes.] |
|
|
|
|
| Why are you looking at the
sea? |
|
|
|
|
| Forgael. Look there! |
|
|
|
|
| Dectora. What is there but a troop of ash-grey birds |
| That fly into the west? |
|
|
|
|
| Forgael. But listen, listen! |
|
|
|
|
| Dectora. What is there but the crying of the birds? |
|
|
|
|
| Forgael. If youll but
listen closely to that crying |
| Youll hear them calling out to one another |
| With human voices. |
|
|
|
|
| Dectora.
O, I can hear them now. |
| What are they? Unto what country do they fly? |
|
|
|
|
| Forgael. To unimaginable
happiness. |
| They have been circling over our heads in the air, |
| But now that they have taken to the road |
| We
have to follow, for they are our pilots; |
| And though theyre but the colour of grey ash, |
| Theyre crying
out, could you but hear their words, |
| There is a country at the end of the world |
| Where no childs born
but to outlive the moon. |
| [The Sailors come in with Aibric. They are in great excitement.] |
|
|
|
|
| First Sailor.
The hold is full of treasure. |
|
|
|
|
| Second Sailor. Full to the hatches. |
|
|
|
|
| First Sailor. Treasure on treasure. |
|
|
|
|
| Third Sailor. Boxes of precious spice. |
|
|
|
|
| First Sailor. Ivory images with amethyst eyes. |
|
|
|
|
| Third Sailor. Dragons
with eyes of ruby. |
|
|
|
|
| First Sailor. The whole ship |
| Flashes as if it were a net of herrings. |
|
|
|
|
| Third Sailor.
Lets home; Id give some rubies to a woman. |
|
|
|
|
| Second Sailor. Theres somebody Id give the amethyst
eyes to. |
|
|
|
|
| Aibric [silencing them with a gesture]. We would return to our own country, Forgael, |
| For we
have found a treasure thats so great |
| Imagination cannot reckon it. |
| And having lit upon this woman there, |
| What
more have you to look for on the seas? |
|
|
|
|
| Forgael. I cannotI am going on to the end. |
| As for this
woman, I think she is coming with me. |
|
|
|
|
| Aibric. The Ever-living have made you mad; but no, |
| It was this
woman in her womans vengeance |
| That drove you to it, and I fool enough |
| To fancy that shed bring you
home again. |
| Twas you that egged him to it, for you know |
| That he is being driven to his death. |
|
|
|
|
| Dectora.
That is not true, for he has promised me |
| An unimaginable happiness. |
|
|
|
|
| Aibric. And if that happiness be |