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The Collected Works in Verse and Prose of William Butler Yeats. Volume 3 of 8. The Countess Cathleen. The Land of Heart's Desire. The Unicorn from the Stars
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And dance upon the mountains like a flame!
MAIRE BRUIN
Queen of the Angels and kind Saints, defend us!
Some dreadful fate has fallen: a while ago
The wind cried out and took the primroses,
And she ran by me laughing in the wind,
And I gave milk and fire, and she came in
And made you hide the blessed crucifix.
FATHER HART
You fear because of her wild, pretty prattle;
She knows no better.
[To THE CHILD] Child, how old are you?
THE CHILD
When winter sleep is abroad my hair grows thin,
My feet unsteady. When the leaves awaken
My mother carries me in her golden arms.
I’ll soon put on my womanhood and marry
The spirits of wood and water, but who can tell
When I was born for the first time? I think
I am much older than the eagle cock
That blinks and blinks on Ballygawley Hill,
And he is the oldest thing under the moon.
FATHER HART
She is of the faery people.
THE CHILD
I am Brig’s daughter.
I sent my messengers for milk and fire,
And then I heard one call to me and came.
[They all except MAIRE BRUIN gather about the priest for protection. MAIRE BRUIN stays on the settle in a stupor of terror. THE CHILD takes primroses from the great bowl and begins to strew them between herself and the priest and about MAIRE BRUIN. During the following dialogue SHAWN BRUIN goes more than once to the brink of the primroses, but shrinks back to the others timidly.
FATHER HART
I will confront this mighty spirit alone.
[They cling to him and hold him back.
THE CHILD [while she strews the primroses]
No one whose heart is heavy with human tears
Can cross these little cressets of the wood.
FATHER HART
Be not afraid, the Father is with us,
And all the nine angelic hierarchies,
The Holy Martyrs and the Innocents,
The adoring Magi in their coats of mail,
And He who died and rose on the third day,
And Mary with her seven times wounded heart.
[THE CHILD ceases strewing the primroses, and kneels upon the settle beside MAIRE and puts her arms about her neck.]
Cry, daughter, to the Angels and the Saints.
THE CHILD
You shall go with me, newly-married bride,
And gaze upon a merrier multitude;
White-armed Nuala and Aengus of the birds,
And Feacra of the hurtling foam, and him
Who is the ruler of the western host,
Finvarra, and their Land of Heart’s Desire,
Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood,
But joy is wisdom, Time an endless song.
I kiss you and the world begins to fade.
FATHER HART
Daughter, I call you unto home and love!
THE CHILD
Stay, and come with me, newly-married bride,
For, if you hear him, you grow like the rest:
Bear children, cook, be mindful of the churn,
And wrangle over butter, fowl, and eggs,
And sit at last there, old and bitter of tongue,
Watching the white stars war upon your hopes.
FATHER HART
Daughter, I point you out the way to heaven.
THE CHILD
But I can lead you, newly-married bride,
Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,
Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,
Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue,
MAIRE BRUIN
Queen of the Angels and kind Saints, defend us!
Some dreadful fate has fallen: a while ago
The wind cried out and took the primroses,
And she ran by me laughing in the wind,
And I gave milk and fire, and she came in
And made you hide the blessed crucifix.
FATHER HART
You fear because of her wild, pretty prattle;
She knows no better.
[To THE CHILD] Child, how old are you?
THE CHILD
When winter sleep is abroad my hair grows thin,
My feet unsteady. When the leaves awaken
My mother carries me in her golden arms.
I’ll soon put on my womanhood and marry
The spirits of wood and water, but who can tell
When I was born for the first time? I think
I am much older than the eagle cock
That blinks and blinks on Ballygawley Hill,
And he is the oldest thing under the moon.
FATHER HART
She is of the faery people.
THE CHILD
I am Brig’s daughter.
I sent my messengers for milk and fire,
And then I heard one call to me and came.
[They all except MAIRE BRUIN gather about the priest for protection. MAIRE BRUIN stays on the settle in a stupor of terror. THE CHILD takes primroses from the great bowl and begins to strew them between herself and the priest and about MAIRE BRUIN. During the following dialogue SHAWN BRUIN goes more than once to the brink of the primroses, but shrinks back to the others timidly.
FATHER HART
I will confront this mighty spirit alone.
[They cling to him and hold him back.
THE CHILD [while she strews the primroses]
No one whose heart is heavy with human tears
Can cross these little cressets of the wood.
FATHER HART
Be not afraid, the Father is with us,
And all the nine angelic hierarchies,
The Holy Martyrs and the Innocents,
The adoring Magi in their coats of mail,
And He who died and rose on the third day,
And Mary with her seven times wounded heart.
[THE CHILD ceases strewing the primroses, and kneels upon the settle beside MAIRE and puts her arms about her neck.]
Cry, daughter, to the Angels and the Saints.
THE CHILD
You shall go with me, newly-married bride,
And gaze upon a merrier multitude;
White-armed Nuala and Aengus of the birds,
And Feacra of the hurtling foam, and him
Who is the ruler of the western host,
Finvarra, and their Land of Heart’s Desire,
Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood,
But joy is wisdom, Time an endless song.
I kiss you and the world begins to fade.
FATHER HART
Daughter, I call you unto home and love!
THE CHILD
Stay, and come with me, newly-married bride,
For, if you hear him, you grow like the rest:
Bear children, cook, be mindful of the churn,
And wrangle over butter, fowl, and eggs,
And sit at last there, old and bitter of tongue,
Watching the white stars war upon your hopes.
FATHER HART
Daughter, I point you out the way to heaven.
THE CHILD
But I can lead you, newly-married bride,
Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,
Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,
Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue,
