Play · 1900 · The Shadowy Waters
The Shadowy Waters
Characters
Forgael
Aibric
Sailors
Dectora
The deck of an ancient ship. At the right of the stage is the mast, with a large square sail hiding a great deal of the sky and sea on that side. The tiller is at the left of the stage; it is a long oar coming through an opening in the bulwark. The deck rises in a series of steps behind the tiller, and the stern of the ship curves overhead. All the woodwork is of dark green; and the sail is dark green, with a blue pattern upon it, having a little copper colour here and there. The sky and sea are dark blue. All the persons of the play are dressed in various tints of green and blue, the men with helmets and swords of copper, the woman with copper ornaments upon her dress. When the play opens there are four persons upon the deck. Aibric stands by the tiller. Forgael sleeps upon the raised portion of the deck towards the front of the stage. Two Sailors are standing near to the mast, on which a harp is hanging.
First Sailor
Has he not led us into these waste seasFor long enough?
Second Sailor
Aye, long and long enough.
First Sailor
We have not come upon a shore or shipThese dozen weeks.
Second Sailor
And I had thought to makeA good round sum upon this cruise, and turn—For I am getting on in life—to somethingThat has less ups and downs than robbery.
First Sailor
I am so lecherous with abstinenceI’d give the profit of nine voyagesFor that red Moll that had but the one eye.
Second Sailor
And all the ale ran out at the new moon;And now that time puts water in my blood,The ale cup is my father and my mother.
First Sailor
It would be better to turn home again,Whether he will or no; and better stillTo make an end while he is sleeping there.If we were of one mind I’d do it.
Second Sailor
Were’t notThat there is magic in that harp of his,That makes me fear to raise a hand against him,I would be of your mind; but when he plays itStrange creatures flutter up before one’s eyes,Or cry about one’s ears.
First Sailor
Nothing to fear.
Second Sailor
Do you remember when we sank that galleyAt the full moon?
First Sailor
He played all through the night.
Second Sailor
Until the moon had set; and when I lookedWhere the dead drifted, I could see a birdLike a grey gull upon the breast of each.While I was looking they rose hurriedly,And after circling with strange cries awhileFlew westward; and many a time since thenI’ve heard a rustling overhead in the wind.
First Sailor
I saw them on that night as well as you.But when I had eaten and drunk a bellyfulMy courage came again.
Second Sailor
But that’s not all.The other night, while he was playing it,A beautiful young man and girl came upIn a white, breaking wave; they had the lookOf those that are alive for ever and ever.
First Sailor
I saw them, too, one night. Forgael was playing,And they were listening there beyond the sail.He could not see them, but I held out my handsTo grasp the woman.
Second Sailor
You have dared to touch her?
First Sailor
O, she was but a shadow, and slipped from me.
Second Sailor
But were you not afraid?
First Sailor
Why should I fear?
Second Sailor
’Twas Aengus and Edain, the wandering lovers,To whom all lovers pray.
First Sailor
But what of that?A shadow does not carry sword or spear.
Second Sailor
My mother told me that there is not oneOf the ever-living half so dangerousAs that wild Aengus. Long before her dayHe carried Edain off from a king’s house,And hid her among fruits of jewel-stoneAnd in a tower of glass, and from that dayHas hated every man that’s not in love,And has been dangerous to him.
First Sailor
I have heardHe does not hate seafarers as he hatesPeaceable men that shut the wind away,And keep to the one weary marriage-bed.
Second Sailor
I think that he has Forgael in his net,And drags him through the sea.
First Sailor
Well, net or none,I’d kill him while we have the chance to do it.
Second Sailor
It’s certain I’d sleep easier o’ nightsIf he were dead; but who will be our captain,Judge of the stars, and find a course for us?
First Sailor
I’ve thought of that. We must have Aibric with us,For he can judge the stars as well as Forgael.
Going towards Aibric.
Become our captain, Aibric. I am resolvedTo make an end of Forgael while he sleeps.There’s not a man but will be glad of itWhen it is over, nor one to grumble at us.You’ll have the captain’s share of everything.
Aibric
Silence! for you have taken Forgael’s pay.
First Sailor
We joined him for his pay, but have had noneThis long while now; we had not turned against himIf he had brought us among peopled seas,For that was in the bargain when we struck it.What good is there in this hard way of living,Unless we drain more flagons in a yearAnd kiss more lips than lasting peaceable menIn their long lives? If you’ll be of our troopYou’ll be as good a leader.
Aibric
Be of your troop!No, nor with a hundred men like you,When Forgael’s in the other scale. I’d say itEven if Forgael had not been my masterFrom earliest childhood, but that being so,If you will draw that sword out of its scabbardI’ll give my answer.
First Sailor
You have awaked him.
To Second Sailor.
We’d better go, for we have lost this chance.
They go out.
Forgael
Have the birds passed us? I could hear your voice.But there were others.
Aibric
I have seen nothing pass.
Forgael
You’re certain of it? I never wake from sleepBut that I am afraid they may have passed,For they’re my only pilots. If I lost themStraying too far into the north or south,I’d never come upon the happinessThat has been promised me. I have not seen themThese many days; and yet there must be manyDying at every moment in the world,And flying towards their peace.
Aibric
Put by these thoughts,And listen to me for awhile. The sailorsAre plotting for your death.
Forgael
Have I not givenMore riches than they ever hoped to find?And now they will not follow, while I seekThe only riches that have hit my fancy.
Aibric
What riches can you find in this waste seaWhere no ship sails, where nothing that’s aliveHas ever come but those man-headed birds,Knowing it for the world’s end?
Forgael
Where the world endsThe mind is made unchanging, for it findsMiracle, ecstasy, the impossible hope,The flagstone under all, the fire of fires,The roots of the world.
Aibric
Who knows that shadowsMay not have driven you mad for their own sport?
Forgael
Do you, too, doubt me? Have you joined their plot?
Aibric
No, no, do not say that. You know right wellThat I will never lift a hand against you.
Forgael
Why should you be more faithful than the rest,Being as doubtful?
Aibric
I have called you masterToo many years to lift a hand against you.
Forgael
Maybe it is but natural to doubt me.You’ve never known, I’d lay a wager on it,A melancholy that a cup of wine,A lucky battle, or a woman’s kissCould not amend.
Aibric
I have good spirits enough.I’ve nothing to complain of but heartburn,And that is cured by a boiled liquorice root.
Forgael
If you will give me all your mind awhile—All, all, the very bottom of the bowl—I’ll show you that I am made differently,That nothing can amend it but these waters,Where I am rid of life—the events of the world—What do you call it?—that old promise-breaker,The cozening fortune-teller that comes whispering,‘You will have all you have wished for when you have earnedLand for your children or money in a pot.’And when we have it we are no happier,Because of that old draught under the door,Or creaky shoes. And at the end of allWe have been no better off than Seaghan the fool,That never did a hand’s turn. Aibric! Aibric!We have fallen in the dreams the ever-livingBreathe on the burnished mirror of the world,And then smooth out with ivory hands and sigh,And find their laughter sweeter to the tasteFor that brief sighing.
Aibric
If you had loved some woman—
Forgael
You say that also? You have heard the voices,For that is what they say—all, all the shadows—Aengus and Edain, those passionate wanderers,And all the others; but it must be loveAs they have known it. Now the secret’s out;For it is love that I am seeking for,But of a beautiful, unheard-of kindThat is not in the world.
Aibric
And yet the worldHas beautiful women to please every man.
Forgael
But he that gets their love after the fashionLoves in brief longing and deceiving hopeAnd bodily tenderness, and finds that evenThe bed of love, that in the imaginationHad seemed to be the giver of all peace,Is no more than a wine-cup in the tasting,And as soon finished.
Aibric
All that ever lovedHave loved that way—there is no other way.
Forgael
Yet never have two lovers kissed but theyBelieved there was some other near at hand,And almost wept because they could not find it.
Aibric
When they have twenty years; in middle lifeThey take a kiss for what a kiss is worth,And let the dream go by.
Forgael
It’s not a dream,But the reality that makes our passionAs a lamp shadow—no—no lamp, the sun.What the world’s million lips are thirsting for,Must be substantial somewhere.
Aibric
I have heard the DruidsMutter such things as they awake from trance.It may be that the ever-living know it—No mortal can.
Forgael
Yes; if they give us help.
Aibric
They are besotting you as they besotThe crazy herdsman that will tell his fellowsThat he has been all night upon the hills,Riding to hurley, or in the battle-hostWith the ever-living.
Forgael
What if he speak the truth,And for a dozen hours have been a partOf that more powerful life?
Aibric
His wife knows better.Has she not seen him lying like a log,Or fumbling in a dream about the house?And if she hear him mutter of wild riders,She knows that it was but the cart-horse coughingThat set him to the fancy.
Forgael
All would be wellCould we but give us wholly to the dreams,And get into their world that to the senseIs shadow, and not linger wretchedlyAmong substantial things; for it is dreamsThat lift us to the flowing, changing worldThat the heart longs for. What is love itself,Even though it be the lightest of light love,But dreams that hurry from beyond the worldTo make low laughter more than meat and drink,Though it but set us sighing? Fellow-wanderer,Could we but mix ourselves into a dream,Not in its image on the mirror!
Aibric
WhileWe’re in the body that’s impossible.
Forgael
And yet I cannot think they’re leading meTo death; for they that promised to me loveAs those that can outlive the moon have known it,Had the world’s total life gathered up, it seemed,Into their shining limbs—I’ve had great teachers.Aengus and Edain ran up out of the wave—You’d never doubt that it was life they promisedHad you looked on them face to face as I did,With so red lips, and running on such feet,And having such wide-open, shining eyes.
Aibric
It’s certain they are leading you to death.None but the dead, or those that never lived,Can know that ecstasy. Forgael! Forgael!They have made you follow the man-headed birds,And you have told me that their journey liesTowards the country of the dead.
Forgael
What matterIf I am going to my death, for there,Or somewhere, I shall find the love they have promised.That much is certain. I shall find a woman,One of the ever-living, as I think—One of the laughing people—and she and IShall light upon a place in the world’s core,Where passion grows to be a changeless thing,Like charmed apples made of chrysoprase,Or chrysoberyl, or beryl, or chrysolite;And there, in juggleries of sight and sense,Become one movement, energy, delight,Until the overburthened moon is dead.
A number of Sailors enter hurriedly.
First Sailor
Look there! there in the mist! a ship of spice!And we are almost on her!
Second Sailor
We had not knownBut for the ambergris and sandalwood.
First Sailor
No; but opoponax and cinnamon.
Forgael
Taking the tiller from Aibric.
The ever-living have kept my bargain for me,And paid you on the nail.
Aibric
Take up that ropeTo make her fast while we are plundering her.
First Sailor
There is a king and queen upon her deck,And where there is one woman there’ll be others.
Aibric
Speak lower, or they’ll hear.
First Sailor
They cannot hear;They are too busy with each other. Look!He has stooped down and kissed her on the lips.
Second Sailor
When she finds out we have better men aboardShe may not be too sorry in the end.
First Sailor
She will be like a wild cat; for these queensCare more about the kegs of silver and gold,And the high fame that come to them in marriage,Than a strong body and a ready hand.
Second Sailor
There’s nobody is natural but a robber,And that is why the world totters aboutUpon its bandy legs.
Aibric
Run at them now,And overpower the crew while yet asleep!
The Sailors go out.
Voices and the clashing of swords are heard from the other ship, which cannot be seen because of the sail.
A Voice
Armed men have come upon us! O, I am slain!
Another Voice
Wake all below!
Another Voice
Why have you broken our sleep?
First Voice
Armed men have come upon us! O, I am slain!
Forgael
Who has remained at the tiller.
There! there they come! Gull, gannet, or diver,But with a man’s head, or a fair woman’s,They hover over the masthead awhileTo wait their friends; but when their friends have comeThey’ll fly upon that secret way of theirs.One—and one—a couple—five together;And I will hear them talking in a minute.Yes, voices! but I do not catch the words.Now I can hear. There’s one of them that says:‘How light we are, now we are changed to birds!’Another answers: ‘Maybe we shall findOur heart’s desire now that we are so light.’And then one asks another how he died,And says: ‘A sword-blade pierced me in my sleep.’And now they all wheel suddenly and flyTo the other side, and higher in the air.And now a laggard with a woman’s headComes crying, ‘I have run upon the sword.I have fled to my beloved in the air,In the waste of the high air, that we may wanderAmong the windy meadows of the dawn.’But why are they still waiting? why are theyCircling and circling over the masthead?What power that is more mighty than desireTo hurry to their hidden happinessWithholds them now? Have the ever-living onesA meaning in that circling overhead?But what’s the meaning? He cries out. Why do you linger there?Why do you not run to your desire,Now that you have happy winged bodies?
His voice sinks again.
Being too busy in the air and the high air,They cannot hear my voice; but what’s the meaning?
The Sailors have returned. Dectora is with them. She is dressed in pale green, with copper ornaments on her dress, and has a copper crown upon her head. Her hair is dull red.
Forgael
Turning and seeing her.
Why are you standing with your eyes upon me?You are not the world’s core. O no, no, no!That cannot be the meaning of the birds.You are not its core. My teeth are in the world,But have not bitten yet.
Dectora
I am a queen,And ask for satisfaction upon theseWho have slain my husband and laid hands upon me.
Breaking loose from the Sailors who are holding her.
Let go my hands!
Forgael
Why do you cast a shadow?Where do you come from? Who brought you to this place?They would not send me one that casts a shadow.
Dectora
Would that the storm that overthrew my ships,And drowned the treasures of nine conquered nations,And blew me hither to my lasting sorrow,Had drowned me also. But, being yet alive,I ask a fitting punishment for allThat raised their hands against him.
Forgael
There are someThat weigh and measure all in these waste seas—They that have all the wisdom that’s in life,And all that prophesying imagesMade of dim gold rave out in secret tombs;They have it that the plans of kings and queensAre dust on the moth’s wing; that nothing mattersBut laughter and tears—laughter, laughter, and tears;That every man should carry his own soulUpon his shoulders.
Dectora
You’ve nothing but wild words,And I would know if you will give me vengeance.
Forgael
When she finds out I will not let her go—When she knows that.
Dectora
What is it that you are muttering—That you’ll not let me go? I am a queen.
Forgael
Although you are more beautiful than any,I almost long that it were possible;But if I were to put you on that ship,With sailors that were sworn to do your will,And you had spread a sail for home, a windWould rise of a sudden, or a wave so huge,It had washed among the stars and put them out,And beat the bulwark of your ship on mine,Until you stood before me on the deck—As now.
Dectora
Does wandering in these desolate seasAnd listening to the cry of wind and waveBring madness?
Forgael
Queen, I am not mad.
Dectora
And yet you say the water and the windWould rise against me.
Forgael
No, I am not mad—If it be not that hearing messagesFrom lasting watchers, that outlive the moon,At the most quiet midnight is to be stricken.
Dectora
And did those watchers bid you take me captive?
Forgael
Both you and I are taken in the net.It was their hands that plucked the winds awakeAnd blew you hither; and their mouths have promisedI shall have love in their immortal fashion.They gave me that old harp of the nine spellsThat is more mighty than the sun and moon,Or than the shivering casting-net of the stars,That none might take you from me.
Dectora
First trembling back from the mast where the harp is, and then laughing.
For a momentYour raving of a message and a harpMore mighty than the stars half troubled me.But all that’s raving. Who is there can compelThe daughter and granddaughter of kingsTo be his bedfellow?
Forgael
Until your lipsHave called me their beloved, I’ll not kiss them.
Dectora
My husband and my king died at my feet,And yet you talk of love.
Forgael
The movement of timeIs shaken in these seas, and what one doesOne moment has no might upon the momentThat follows after.
Dectora
I understand you now.You have a Druid craft of wicked soundWrung from the cold women of the sea—A magic that can call a demon up,Until my body give you kiss for kiss.
Forgael
Your soul shall give the kiss.
Dectora
I am not afraid,While there’s a rope to run into a nooseOr wave to drown. But I have done with words,And I would have you look into my faceAnd know that it is fearless.
Forgael
Do what you will,For neither I nor you can break a meshOf the great golden net that is about us.
Dectora
There’s nothing in the world that’s worth a fear.
She passes Forgael and stands for a moment looking into his face.
I have good reason for that thought.
She runs suddenly on to the raised part of the poop.
And nowI can put fear away as a queen should.
She mounts on to the bulwark and turns towards Forgael.
Fool, fool! Although you have looked into my faceYou do not see my purpose. I shall have goneBefore a hand can touch me.
Forgael
folding his arms
My hands are still;The ever-living hold us. Do what you will,You cannot leap out of the golden net.
First Sailor
No need to drown, for, if you will pardon usAnd measure out a course and bring us home,We’ll put this man to death.
Dectora
I promise it.
First Sailor
There is none to take his side.
Aibric
I am on his side.I’ll strike a blow for him to give him timeTo cast his dreams away.
Aibric goes in front of Forgael with drawn sword. Forgael takes the harp.
First Sailor
No other’ll do it.
The Sailors throw Aibric on one side. He falls upon the deck towards the poop. They lift their swords to strike Forgael, who is about to play the harp. The stage begins to darken. The Sailors hesitate in fear.
Second Sailor
He has put a sudden darkness over the moon.
Dectora
Nine swords with handles of rhinoceros hornTo him that strikes him first!
First Sailor
I will strike him first.
He goes close up to Forgael with his sword lifted. The harp begins to give out a faint light. The scene has become so dark that the only light is from the harp.
Shrinking back.
He has caught the crescent moon out of the sky,And carries it between us.
Second Sailor
Holy fireHas come into the jewels of the harpTo burn us to the marrow if we strike.
Dectora
I’ll give a golden galley full of fruit,That has the heady flavour of new wine,To him that wounds him to the death.
First Sailor
I’ll do it.For all his spells will vanish when he dies,Having their life in him.
Second Sailor
Though it be the moonThat he is holding up between us there,I will strike at him.
The Others
And I! And I! And I!
Forgael plays the harp.
First Sailor
Falling into a dream suddenly.
But you were saying there is somebodyUpon that other ship we are to wake.You did not know what brought him to his end,But it was sudden.
Second Sailor
You are in the right;I had forgotten that we must go wake him.
Dectora
He has flung a Druid spell upon the air,And set you dreaming.
Second Sailor
How can we have a wakeWhen we have neither brown nor yellow ale?
First Sailor
I saw a flagon of brown ale aboard her.
Third Sailor
How can we raise the keen that do not knowWhat name to call him by?
First Sailor
Come to his ship.His name will come into our thoughts in a minute.I know that he died a thousand years ago,And has not yet been waked.
Second Sailor
beginning to keen
Ohone! O! O! O!The yew bough has been broken into two,And all the birds are scattered.
All the Sailors
O! O! O! O!
They go out keening.
Dectora
Protect me now, gods, that my people swear by.
Aibric has risen from the ground where he had fallen. He has begun looking for his sword as if in a dream.
Aibric
Where is my sword that fell out of my handWhen I first heard the news? Ah, there it is!
He goes dreamily towards the sword, but Dectora runs at it and takes it up before he can reach it.
Aibric
sleepily
Queen, give it me.
Dectora
No, I have need of it.
Aibric
Why do you need a sword? But you may keep it,Now that he’s dead I have no need of it,For everything is gone.
A Sailor
Calling from the other ship.
Come hither, Aibric,And tell me who it is that we are waking.
Aibric
Half to Dectora, half to himself.
What name had that dead king? Arthur of Britain?No, no—not Arthur. I remember now.It was golden-armed Iollan, and he diedBrokenhearted, having lost his queenThrough wicked spells. That is not all the tale,For he was killed. O! O! O! O! O! O!For golden-armed Iollan has been killed.
He goes out.
While he has been speaking, and through part of what follows, one hears the wailing of the Sailors from the other ship. Dectora stands with the sword lifted in front of Forgael.
Dectora
I will end all your magic on the instant.
Her voice becomes dreamy, and she lowers the sword slowly, and finally lets it fall. She spreads out her hair. She takes off her crown and lays it upon the deck.
This sword is to lie beside him in the grave.It was in all his battles. I will spread my hair,And wring my hands, and wail him bitterly,For I have heard that he was proud and laughing,Blue-eyed, and a quick runner on bare feet,And that he died a thousand years ago.O! O! O!
Forgael changes the tune.
But no, that is not it.I knew him well, and while I heard him laughingThey killed him at my feet. O! O! O! O!For golden-armed Iollan that I loved.But what is it that made me say I loved him?It was that harper put it in my thoughts,But it is true. Why did they run upon him,And beat the golden helmet with their swords?
Forgael
Do you not know me, lady? I am heThat you are weeping for.
Dectora
No, for he is dead.O! O! O! for golden-armed Iollan.
Forgael
It was so given out, but I will proveThat the grave-diggers in a dreamy frenzyHave buried nothing but my golden arms.Listen to that low-laughing string of the moonAnd you will recollect my face and voice,For you have listened to me playing itThese thousand years.
He starts up, listening to the birds. The harp slips from his hands, and remains leaning against the bulwarks behind him. The light goes out of it.
What are the birds at there?Why are they all a-flutter of a sudden?What are you calling out above the mast?If railing and reproach and mockeryBecause I have awakened her to loveMy magic strings, I’ll make this answer to it:Being driven on by voices and by dreamsThat 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, it’s a wonder out of reckoningThat I should keen him from the full of the moonTo 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 councils of the ever-living,And all that tossing of your wings is joy,And all that murmuring’s but a marriage song;But if it be reproach, I answer this:There is not one among you that made loveBy any other means. You call it passion,Consideration, generosity;But it was all deceit, and flatteryTo 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 faceBetter than my own hands.
Forgael
I have deceived youOut of all reckoning.
Dectora
Is it not trueThat you were born a thousand years ago,In islands where the children of Aengus windIn happy dances under a windy moon,And that you’ll 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 loveSome other woman has a claim on you,And I’ve but half?
Forgael
Oh, no!
Dectora
And if there is,If there be half a hundred more, what matter?I’ll 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 afraidTo tell them a plain story.
Forgael
That’s 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 sodIn the imagination and intellect?If something that’s 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 knowThat it was yesterday and not to-dayI loved him; I would cover up my ears,As I am doing now. A pause. Why do you weep?
Forgael
I weep because I’ve nothing for your eyesBut desolate waters and a battered ship.
Dectora
O, why do you not lift your eyes to mine?
Forgael
I weep—I weep because bare night’s 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 worldBut my beloved—that 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
I too, I too. Why do you look away?Am I to fear the waves, or is the moonMy enemy?
Dectora
I looked upon the moon,Longing to knead and pull it into shapeThat 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 knowHow great a wrong it is to let one’s thoughtWander 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 birdsThat fly into the west?
Forgael
But listen, listen!
Dectora
What is there but the crying of the birds?
Forgael
If you’ll but listen closely to that cryingYou’ll hear them calling out to one anotherWith 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 roadWe have to follow, for they are our pilots;And though they’re but the colour of grey ash,They’re crying out, could you but hear their words,‘There is a country at the end of the worldWhere no child’s 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 and 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 shipFlashes as if it were a net of herrings.
Third Sailor
Let’s home; I’d give some rubies to a woman.
Second Sailor
There’s somebody I’d give the amethyst eyes to.
First Sailor
Let’s home and spend it in our villages.
Aibric
Silencing them with a gesture.
We would return to our own country, Forgael,For we have found a treasure that’s so greatImagination cannot reckon it.And having lit upon this woman there,What more have you to look for on the seas?
Forgael
I cannot—I 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 woman’s vengeanceThat drove you to it, and I fool enoughTo fancy that she’d bring you home again.’Twas you that egged him to it, for you knowThat he is being driven to his death.
Dectora
That is not true, for he has promised meAn unimaginable happiness.
Aibric
And if that happiness be more than dreams,More than the froth, the feather, the dustwhirl,The crazy nothing that I think it is,It shall be in the country of the dead,If there be such a country.
Dectora
No, not there,But in some island where the life of the worldLeaps upward, as if all the streams o’ the worldHad run into one fountain.
Aibric
Speak to him.He knows that he is taking you to death;Speak—he will not deny it.
Dectora
Is that true?
Forgael
I do not know for certain, but I knowThat I have the best of pilots.
Aibric
Shadows, illusions,That the shape-changers, the ever-laughing ones,The immortal mockers have cast into his mind,Or called before his eyes.
Dectora
O carry meTo some sure country, some familiar place.Have we not everything that life can giveIn having one another?
Forgael
How could I restIf I refused the messengers and pilotsWith all those sights and all that crying out?
Dectora
But I will cover up your eyes and ears,That you may never hear the cry of the birds,Or look upon them.
Forgael
Were they but lowlierI’d do your will, but they are too high—too high.
Dectora
Being too high, their heady propheciesBut harry us with hopes that come to nothing,Because we are not proud, imperishable,Alone and winged.
Forgael
Our love shall be like theirsWhen we have put their changeless image on.
Dectora
I am a woman, I die at every breath.
Aibric
Let the birds scatter for the tree is broken.And there’s no help in words. To the Sailors. To the other ship,And I will follow you and cut the ropeWhen I have said farewell to this man here,For neither I nor any living manWill look upon his face again.
The Sailors go out.
Forgael
to Dectora
Go with him,For he will shelter you and bring you home.
Aibric
Taking Forgael’s hand.
I’ll do it for his sake.
Dectora
No. Take this swordAnd cut the rope, for I go on with Forgael.
Aibric
Half-falling into the keen.
The yew bough has been broken into two,And all the birds are scattered—O! O! O!Farewell! farewell!
He goes out.
Dectora
The sword is in the rope—The rope’s in two—it falls into the sea,It whirls into the foam. O ancient worm,Dragon that loved the world and held us to it,You are broken, you are broken. The world drifts away,And I am left alone with my beloved,Who cannot put me from his sight for ever.We are alone for ever, and I laugh,Forgael, because you cannot put me from you.The mist has covered the heavens, and you and IShall be alone for ever. We two—this crown—I half remember. It has been in my dreams.Bend lower, O king, that I may crown you with it.O flower of the branch, O bird among the leaves,O silver fish that my two hands have takenOut of the running stream, O morning star,Trembling in the blue heavens like a white fawnUpon the misty border of the wood,Bend lower, that I may cover you with my hair,For we will gaze upon this world no longer.
The scene darkens, and the harp once more begins to burn as with a faint fire. Forgael is kneeling at Dectora’s feet.
Forgael
Gathering Dectora’s hair about him.
Beloved, having dragged the net about us,And knitted mesh to mesh, we grow immortal;And that old harp awakens of itselfTo cry aloud to the grey birds, and dreams,That have had dreams for father, live in us.
Text: The Collected Works in Verse and Prose of William Butler Yeats, volume II (Shakespeare Head Press, Stratford-on-Avon, 1908). Public domain.