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The immortal
hour
Adapted from the plays and poems of Fiona Mcleod
Act 1
Act 2
Act 1
Scene 1
A wood, dark and mysterious.
In the background the faint glimmer of a lake.
Dalua:
(Slowly coming out of the shadow):
By dim moon glimmering coasts and sad sea waters
Of thistle-gathered shingle, and sea-murmuring;
woods, trod once, but now untrod.. under grey skies
That have the grey wave sighing in their sails
and in their drooping sails the grey sea-ebb
and with the grey wind wailing evermore,
blowing the dun leaf from the blackening trees
I have traveled from one darkness to another.
Voices in the wood:
Though you have travelled from one darkness to another
Following the dun leaf from the blackening trees
That the dun wind harries, and have trodden the woods
Where the grey-hooded crows that once were men
Gather in multitude from the long grey wastes
Of thistled shingle by sea-murmuring coasts,
Yet you have come no further than a rood,
A little rood of ground in a circle woven.
Dalua:
To the world's end have I come, to the world's end.
Voices:
You have come but a little way who think so far
that long, uncounted leagues to the world's end.
And now you are mazed because you stand at the edge
where the last tangled slope leans over the abyss.
Dalua:
Ye know not who I am, sombre and ancient voices.
And if I tread the long, continuous way
within a narrow round, not thinking it long
and fare a single hour, thinking it many days,
I am not first or last of the immortal clan,
for whom the long ways of the world are brief
and the short ways heavy with unimagined time.
Voices:
There is no first or last, or any end.
Dalua:
I have come hither, led by dreams and visions,
and know not why I come, and to what end,
and wherefore 'mid the noise of chariot wheels,
Where the swung world roars down the starry ways,
the voice I know and dread was one with me
As the uplifted grain and wind are one.
Voices:
Above you is the light of a wandering star.
O, son of the Wandering star, we know you now!
Dalua:
Like great black birds the demons haunt the woods.
Hail, ye unknown who know me!
A voice, unexpectedly near:
Hail, son of shadow!
Voices:
Hail, brother of the strong, immortal gods,
and of the gods who have passed into sleep
in soundless hollows of forgotten hills
and of the homeless, sad, bewildered gods
who as grey wandering mists lickt up the wind
Pass slowly in the dull unfriendly light
of the cold, curious gaze of envious men.
Dalua:
I am old, more old, more ancient than the gods,
for I am the son of Shadow, eldest god,
who dreamed the passionate and terrible dreams
we call fire and light, water and wind
Air, darkness, death, change and decay, and birth
And all the infinite bitter range that is.
A voice:
Brother and kin to all the twilit gods,
living, forgot, long dead: sad shadow of pale hopes,
Forgotten dreams, and madness of men's minds:
Outcast among the gods, and called the fool,
yet dreaded even by those immortal eyes
because thy fateful touch can wreck the mind
or lay a frost of silence on the heart..
Dalua, hail!
Voices:
Dalua hail!...Dalua hail!...Hail!...Hail!...
(The sound of mocking laughter is heard from the wood)
Dalua:
Laugh not, ye outcasts of the invisible world;
for Lu and OEngus laugh not, nor the gods
Safe set above the perishable stars.
They laugh not, nor any in the high celestial house.
Their proud immortal eyes grow dim and clouded
When as a morning shadow I am gathered
into their holy light, for well they know
The dreadful finger of the Nameless one
That moves as a shadow falls. For I, Dalua
Am yet the blown leaf of the unknown powers.
Voices:
We, too, are the blown leaves of the hidden powers.
Dalua:
Voices of shadowy things be still!
I hear the voice of one who wanders through the woods.
(Etain wanders into view, looking lost and Bewildered)
Etain:
Fair is the moonlight,
and fair the wood,
but not so fair
As the place I come from.
Why did I leave it,
the beautiful country,
Where death is only
a drifting shadow?
O face of love
of dream and longing,
there is sorrow upon me
That I am here.
I will go back
to the country of the Young
and see again
The lances of the Shee,
As they keep their hosting
with laughing cries
In pale places
Under the moon.
(Etain turns and walks slowly away.
She stops as she hears a peculiar cry
from the wood. She turns, startled)
Etain:
None made that cry who has not known the Shee.
Dalua:
(stepping forward with a courtly bow,
faintly touched with mockery)
Hail, daughter of kings, and star among the dreams,
Which are the lives and souls of whom have won
The country of the young!
Etain:
I know you not.
Dalua:
I have come far, led here by dreams and visions.
Etain:
By dreams and vision led, I, too, have come,
but know not whence or by what devious way,
Nor to what end I am come through these dim woods
to this grey, lonely loch.
Dalua:
(Touching her lightly with the shadow of his hand)
Have you forgot
the delicate smiling land beneath the arcs
Which day and night and momently are wove
Between its peaceful shores and the vast gulf
of dreaded silence and the unpathwayed dark?
Etain:
I have forgotten all.
I can remember nothing: no, not this,
The little song I sang ev'n now, or what sweet thought,
What ache of longing lay behind the song.
All is forgot... I know no more
Than this: that I am Etain White o' the Wave,
Etain, come hither from the lovely land
where the immortal Shee fill up their lives
as flowers with honey brewed of summer airs,
Flame of the sun, dawn rains, and evening dews.
Dalua:
We are sheep led
By an unknown shepherd, we who are the Shee,
For all we dream we are as gods, and far
Ungathered from the little woes of men.
Etain:
Then why this meeting, here in this old wood,
By moonlight, by this melancholy water?
Dalua:
I knew not. Now I know.
A king of men has wooed the immortal hour. He seeks to know
the joy that is more great than joy the beauty of the old green earth can
give.
He has known dreams, and because bitter dreams have sweeter been than honey,
he has sought the open road that lies 'mid shadowy things. He has sought and
found
and called upon the Shee to lead his love to one more beautiful than any
mortal maid;
So fair that he shall know a joy beyond all mortal joy, And stand silent and
rapt beside the gate, the rainbow gate of her whom none may find:
the beauty of all beauty.
Etain:
Can this be?
Dalua:
Nay, but he doth not know the end.
There is but one way to that gate: it is not love aflame
with all desire, but love at peace.
(Dalua here makes a significant gesture which he repeats
over the body of Eochaidh at the end of the work)
Etain:
Who is this poet, this king?
Dalua:
Led here by dreams, by dreams and vision led as you and I.
His feet are nearing us. When you are won by love and adoration,
Star of dreams, and take sweet mortal clay, and have forgot
that love-sweet whisper of the king of the Shee,
and even as now, hear Midir's name unmov'd;
The wayward thistledown of fate shall blow on the same idle wind –
the doom of him who blindfold seeks you.
Etain:
But may he not love?
Dalua:
Yes, he shall love. Upon him I shall lay
my touch, the touch of him men
dread and call the Amadan Dhu,
the Dark one, Faery fool.
He shall have madness
even as he wills, and think it wisdom.
I shall be his thought - A dream within a dream;
the flame wherein The white moths
of his thoughts shall rise and die.
(The blast of a horn is heard)
Dalua:
Now go.
(He touches her lightly
with the shadow of his hand,
and whispers in her ear)
I have told all that need be told,
and given Bewilderment
and dreams; but dreams that are the fruit
of that sweet clay of which I spake.
Etain:
I will go back
to the country of the young
and see again
the lances of the shee
as they keep their hosting
with laughing cries
in pale places
under the moon.
(The horn is heard nearer. Dalua stands in the shadow,
awaiting the coming of Eochaidh the king.)
Eochaidh:
Sir, I am glad. I had not thought to see one here.
Dalua:
The king is welcome.
Eochaidh:
And who is he who knows the king here in this dim, remote,
forgotten wood, where, led by dreams and visions I have come?
Dalua:
Those led by dreams shall be misled, O king!
Eochaidh:
You are no druid, no knight in arms, none whom I have seen.
Dalua:
I am called Dalua.
Eochaidh:
I have not heard that name, and yet in dreams I have known
one who waved a shadowy plume and smiling said, "I am dalua".
Are you that same Dalua?
Dalua:
(turning away from the king)
I have come to this lone wood and to this lonely mere to drink
from out the fountain of all dreams, the shadowy fount of beauty.
Eochaidh:
At last! The fount of beauty, fountain of all dreams!
Now I am come upon my long desire! The days have trampled me
like armed men Thrusting their spears as ever on they go.
And I am weary of all things, save the stars,
(Dalua passes behind him and lifts his hands
over him like a great shadow)
The wind, shadow,
and moonrise, and strange dreams.
Dalua:
(Touching him lightly)
Look, O king!
Eochaidh:
I see a fountain, and within its shadow a great fish swims,
and on its quivering wave the scarlet berries float: dim 'mid its depths
the face of one I see, most calm and great, August, with mournful eyes.
Dalua:
Ask what you will.
Eochaidh:
The word of wisdom, O thou hidden god!
(Dalua goes out)
A voice:
Return, O Eochaidh Airemh, wandering king.
Eochaidh:
That shall not be. No backward way is mine. If I indeed be king,
then kingly I shall cleave my way through shadows as through men.
A voice:
Return!
Eochaidh:
Nay, by the sun and moon, I swear I will not turn my feet.
A voice:
Return! Return!
Eochaidh:
There is no backward way for such as I.
(Hesitantly turns to speak to Dalua)
Howbeit.. for I am shaken with old dreams, And as an idle wave tossed to
and fro, I will go hence. I will go back to where the quiet moonlight spills
above the hills, Where men hail me king.
(Dalua's laughter heard from the wood)
Dalua:
Follow, O follow, king of dreams and shadows!
Eochaidh:
I follow.
I have heard you calling, Dalua! Dalua!
I have heard you on the hill,
By the pool-side still,
Where the lapwings shrill Dalua.. Dalua.. Dalua.. Dalua!
What is it you call, Dalua, Dalua! When the rains fall,
When the mists crawl
and the curlews call Dalua..Dalua..Dalua!
(Eochaidh goes off into the wood)
Dalua (in another part of the wood):
I am the fool, Dalua!
When men hear me, their eyes
Darken; The shadow in the skies
Droops; and the keening woman cries Dalua..
Dalua.. Dalua!...
Scene 2
(The hut of the peasant, Manus, and his wife, Miave.
In a recess sits Etain, sheltering
from a raging storm outside. It is night time)
Manus:
I've seen that man before who came tonight.
I say, I've seen that man before.
Maive:
Hush, Manus; Beware of what you say. How can we tell who comes,
who goes? And too, good man, you've had Three golden pieces.
Manus:
Ay, they are put by. That comforts me: for gold is ever gold.
Maive:
One is for her who stays to-night
And shares our scanty fare.
Right welcome, too:
The other for any who might come,
Asking for bite or sup.
The third...
Manus:
Yes, woman, yes. I know: for silence. Hush! There comes the rain.
(Etain rises, goes to the doorway and pulls back the hide.
Shuddering, she thrusts it crosswise and returns)
Etain:
It was so beautiful, with not a breath of wind, and now the hill wind moans,
the night is filled with tears of bitter rain. Good people, have you seen
such quiet eves fall into stormy nights before?
Manus:
Who knows the wild way of the wind; the wild way of the rain?
Maive:
They are more great than we; They are so old, the wind and rain, so old;
They know all things, Grey feathers and blind eyes.
Etain:
Who?...Who?...
Manus:
The woman speaks of Wind and Rain; Blind eyes, the dreadful one
whom none has seen, Whose voice we hear. Grey Feathers,
his pale love, who flies before or follows.
Etain:
But sometimes.. sometimes.. Tell me: have you heard, by dusk
or moonset have you never heard sweet voices, delicate music?...
never seen The passage of the lordly beautiful ones Men call the Shee?
Manus:
(rising abruptly)
We do not speak of them.
(A horn is heard)
Maive:
Hark! A second time I've heard a cry!
Eochaidh:
(outside)
Open, good folk!
Manus:
There is no door to ope: Thrust back the skin from off the post.
Eochaidh:
Good folk, I give you greeting.
(He sees Etain. He bows to her, steps nearer,
and from this moment his eyes never leave her)
Lady!
Etain:
Sir, I pray you draw near the fire.
This bitter wind and rain must sure have chilled you.
Manus:
(to Maive)
He is not wet. The driving rains have left no single drop!
Maive:
Good sir, brave lord! Have pity on us.
Manus:
Good sir, you are most welcome. I am Manus. And this poor woman is Maive,
my childless wife, and this is a great lady of the land who shelters here
tonight.
Her name is Etain.
Maive:
Sir, if you are of the nameless ones, the noble nameless ones, do us no ill!
Eochaidh:
Good folk, I mean no ill, nor am I made of other clay than yours. I am a
man.
Let me have shelter here tonight. Tomorrow I will go hence.
Manus:
You are most welcome, sir.
Eochaidh:
And you, Etain, is it your will that I be sheltered from the wind and rain?
Etain:
How could I grudge you that ungrudged to me?
(Manus and Maive withdraw into the shadow. The logs give less flame)
Eochaidh:
At last I know why dreams have led me hither. All these years These eyes
like stars have led me. All these years this love that dwells like moonlight
in your face,
has been the wind that moved my idle wave. Forgive presumptuous words,
I mean no ill. I am a king, and kingly. Ard-Ree I am. Ard Ree of Eire.
Etain:
And your name, fair lord?
Eochaidh:
Eochaidh Airemh
Etain:
And I am Etain called, daughter of lordly ones, of princely line.
But more I cannot say, for on my mind a strange forgetful cloud bewilders
me,
and I have memory only of those things of which I cannot speak, being under
bond
to keep the silence of my lordly folk. How I came here or to what end,
or why I am left here, I know not.
Eochaidh:
Truly, I now know full well. Etain, dear love, my dreams come true,
I have seen this dim pale face in dreams for days and months and years,
till at the last too great a spell of beauty held my hours. My kingdom was
no more
to me than sand, or a green palace built of August leaves, already
yellowing,
waiting for the wind to scatter them to north and south and east.
I have forgotten all that men hold dear,
And given my kingdom to the wheeling crows,
The trampling desert hinds, the snarling fox. I have no thought, no dream,
no hope, but this: To call you mine, to take you hence, my Queen.
Etain:
I, too, am lifted with the breath of a tumultuous wind. My lord and king.
I, too, am lit with fire, which fills my heart and lifts it like a flame to
burn in thine,
To pass and be at one and flame in thine.
Eochaidh and Etain:
The years, the bitter years of all the world are now no more...
Eochaidh:
Who laughed?
Manus:
(sullenly)
No one laughed.
Eochaidh:
What means that laughter?
Maive:
Grey feathers and blind eyes.
Etain:
None laughed. It was the hooting of an owl. Dear lord, sit here. I am weary.
(Eochaidh bends on one knee. The peasants are asleep.
It is dark and very still. A strange. far-away look comes into Etain's
eyes.)
Eochaidh:
Etain, dear love!
(Etain strains into the darkness
as though to hear a far-off sound)
Unseen Voices:
How beautiful they are,
the lordly ones
who dwell in the hills,
in the hollow hills.
They have faces like flowers,
and their breath is a wind
that blows over summer meadows,
filled with dewy clover.
Their limbs are more white
than shafts of moonshine:
They are more fleet
than the march wind.
They laugh and are glad
And are terrible:
When their lances shake and glitter
Every green reed quivers.
How beautiful they are,
How beautiful
The lordly ones
In the hollow hills..
Act 2
Act 1
Act 2
(The great hall of Eochaidh's palace. Druids, bards, warriors
and maidens assemble to celebrate the King's "Year of joy" with Etain)
Druids:
By
the voice in the corries
when the pole star danceth;
By the voice on the summits
the dead feet know;
By the soft wet cry
When the heat-star troubleth;
By the plaining and moaning
Of the sigh of the rainbows;
By the four white winds of the world
Whose father the golden sun is
Whose mother the wheeling moon is
The north and the south and the east and the west;
By the four good winds of the world
That man knoweth,
That one dreadeth,
That Lu blesseth.
Be all well
On mountain, moorland and lea,
On loch-face and lochan and river,
On shore, on shallow and sea!
By the voice of the hollow
Where the worm dwelleth;
By the voice of the hollow
Where the sea-wave stirs not;
By the voice of the hollow
That sun hath not seen yet;
By the three dark winds of the world:
The chill dull breath of the grave,
The breath from the depths of the sea.
The breath of tomorrow;
By the white and dark winds of the world,
The four and the three that are seven,
That man knoweth,
That one dreadeth,
That Lu blesseth.
(The druids are assembled)
Sky set Lu, who leads the hosts of stars,
And Dana, ancient mother of the gods,
Dagda, Lord of Thunder and Silence,
Moon-crowned Brigid of undying flame,
Mananaan of the innumerable waters,
Midir of the Dew and the Evening star,
Flame-haired OEngus, Lord of Love and Death,
Shadowy Dalua of the Hidden way.
Maidens:
The Bells of youth are ringing in the gateways of the south.
The bannerets of green are now unfurled; Spring has risen with a laugh
and a wild rose in her mouth, and is singing, ringing, ringing through the
world.
The bells of Youth are ringing in all the silent places: The primrose
and the calendine are out; Children run a-laughing with joy upon their
faces,
and the West wind follows after with a shout!
The bells of youth are ringing from the forests to the mountains,
From the meadows to the moorlands, hark their singing!
Ten thousand thousand splashing rills and fern-dappled fountain
are flinging wide the song of youth, and onward flowing, singing!
(Etain the queen appears. She bows)
Druids:
Hail, Etain! Etain the Beautiful. hail!
(The queen passes to her throne)
Maidens:
The bells of youth are ringing in the gateways of the south,
The bannerets of green are now unfurled:
Spring has risen with a laugh and a wild rose in her mouth,
and is ringing, ringing, ringing through the world.
Warriors:
But this was in the old, old, far-off days
But this was in the old, old, far-off days
They rode beneath the ancient boughs, and as they rode she sang,
But at the last both silent were, only the horse-hoofs rang.
Guenn took up the sword, and she felt its shining blade,
And she laughed and vowed it fitted ill for the handling of a maid.
He looked at her and darkly smiled, and said she was a queen,
for she could swing the white sword high, and love it's dazzling sheen.
She lifted up the great white sword and swung it o'er his head...
"Ah, you may smile now, my lord, now you may smile," She said.
But this was in the old, old, far-off days,
But this was in the old, old, far-off days.
(The king appears and takes his seat)
Bards, Maidens, and Warriors:
Hail, Eochaidh, High king of Eire, hail!
Glory of years, O king, glory of years!
Eochaidh:
(rising)
Drink from the great shell and horns!... for I am glad that
on this night which rounds my year of joy We feast together.
Maidens, bards and Warriors:
Hail, Eochaidh, High king of Eire, hail!
Etain the beautiful, Hail!
Bards, Warriors and others:
Green fire of joy, green fire of life,
be with you through the stress and strife
Be with you through the shadow and shine,
The immortal Ichor, The immortal wine!
Drink deep of the immortal wine
It gives the laughter to the strife;
Drink deep, and through the shadow and shine
Rejoice in the Green fire of life!
(They all look expectantly at Etain)
Eochaidh:
Etain, speak, my queen.
(Etain rises abstractedly, She puts her hand to her brow
as if trying to remember something)
Etain:
Warriors and druids, bards, harpers, friends Of high and low degree.
I who am queen do also thank you. But I am weary now
with strange perplexing dreams, and so I bid you all farewell.
To you, my lord and king, I, too, will bid farewell tonight.
Eochaidh:
No, no, my queen. This night I pray,
this night leave me not here alone:
For under all this outer tide of joy
I am sore wrought by dreams and premonitions.
For three nights I have heard sudden laughter in the dark,
Where nothing was; and in the first false dawn
have seen phantasmal shapes,
and on the grass a host of shadows marching, bent one way,
as when green leagues of reed become
one reed blown slantwise by the wind.
(He seems to lose himself.)
Where the water whispers 'mid the shadowy rowan trees
I have heard the hidden people like the hum of swarming bees:
And when the moon has risen and the brown burn glisters grey
I have seen the green host marching in laughing disarray.
Dalua then must sure have blown a magic air,
Or with the mystic dew have sealed my eyes from seeing fair:
For the great lords of shadow who dread of deeps of night
Are no frail, puny folk who move in dread of mortal sight.
For sure Dalua laughed aloud, Dalua the Faery fool,
When with his wildfire eyes he saw me
'neath the rowan-shadowed pool
His touch can make the chords of life a bitter jangling tune
The false grows true, the true grows false, beneath his moontide rune.
The laughter of the hidden host is terrible to hear,
The hounds of death would harry me at lifting of a spear.
Mayhaps Dalua made for me the hum of swarming bees
And sealed my eyes with dew beneath the shadowy rowan trees.
Etain:
I, too, have heard strange, delicate music, subtle murmurings,
A little lovely noise of myriad leaves, As though the greanness on the wind
o' the south came traveling to bare woods on one still night.
But I am weary now. Dear king, Sweet sleep and sweeter dreams!
(She gives him her hand. He kisses it tenderly but looks over his
shoulder
as if startled by some unseen phantom. Etain repeats her gestures
of weariness and bewilderment. She rises and steps down from the throne)
Warriors and others:
The queen!
(She bows to the assembly and moves to the doorway)
Green fire of joy, green fire of life,
be with you through the stress and strife
Be with you through the shadow and shine,
The immortal Ichor, The immortal wine!
Eochaidh:
Now go in peace. To one and all, good-night.
Druids and bards:
Sky set Lu, who leads the hosts of stars,
And Dana, ancient mother of the gods,
Dagda, Lord of Thunder and Silence,
Moon-crowned Brigid of undying flame,
Mananaan of the innumerable waters,
Midir of the Dew and the Evening star,
(A stir is heard without. The exit of the Druids is arrested.
They stand uncertain as a young stranger passes through
their midst and confronts the king.)
Midir:
Hail, Eochaidh, king of Eire!
Eochaidh:
(looking fixedly at Midir)
Hail, fair sir!
Midir:
Sorrow upon me that I am so late for this great feasting! But I come from
far,
and wind and rain delayed me. Yet full glad Am I to stand before the king
tonight
and claim a boon!
Eochaidh:
Here is my Dun, no stranger claims a boon in vain... If that boon be
such as I may grant without loss of fame, Honour or common weal.
But first, fair sir, I ask the name and rank of him who craves.
Midir:
I am a king's first son.
My kingdom lies beyond your lordly realms,
O king, and yet upon its mist-white shores
the Three great waves of Eire rise in foam.
But I am under sacred bond
To tell no one, not even the king,
My name and lineage.
(Eochaidh looks at Midir with doubt)
King, I wish you well:
Lordship and peace, and all your heart's desire.
(Eochaidh makes an involuntary gesture of eager inquiry,
but checks himself. He signs to the Druids to go.
They take up their song as they do so.)
Druids:
Sky set Lu, who leads the hosts of stars,
And Dana, ancient mother of the gods,
Dagda, Lord of Thunder and Silence,
Moon-crowned Brigid of undying flame,
Mananaan of the innumerable waters,
Midir of the Dew and the Evening star,
Flame-haired OEngus, Lord of Love and Death,
Shadowy Dalua of the Hidden way.
Eochaidh:
Fair lord, my thanks I give, lordship I have, and peace a little while,
though one brief year has seen its birth and life: My hearts desire...
Ah, unknown lord, give me my heart's desire...
Midir:
And that, O king?
Eochaidh:
It is to know there is no twilight hour upon my joy; no starless night
wherein
my swimming love may reach in vain for any shore, wherein great love
shall drown and be a lifeless weed.
Midir:
Have not great poets sung great love survives the night, and climbs the
stars,
and lives th' immortal hour along the brows of that infinitude called youth,
whom men name OEngus, Sunrise?
Eochaidh:
Sir, I, too, have been a poet.
(Midir flings off his green cloak and stands revealed
in a glittering tunic of ruddy gold.)
Midir:
In the days of the great fires when the hills were aflame,
And the shining God lay by a foam-white mountain,
The white Thigh of moon-crowned Dana, Beautiful mother,
"Fire of my love," she cried. Aed of the sunlight and shadow
laughed: and he rose till he grew more vast than Dana:
The sun was his trampling foot, and he wore the white moon as a feather:
And he lay by Dana: and the world swayed, and the stars swung.
Thus was OEngus born, Lord of love, Son of wisdom and death.
Eochaidh:
Hear us, OEngus, beautiful, terrible, sun-lord and Death-lord!
Give us the white flame of love born of Aed and Dana...
Hearken, thou pulse of hearts, and let the white doves from thy lips
cover with passionate wings the silence between us,
Where a white fawn leaps and only Etain and I behold it.
(Midir regards him lightly. A look of fear comes
into the eyes of Eochaidh. He half ashamedly tries to cover it)
Eochaidh:
Dreams.. dreams.. dreams.
But now, fair lord, tell me the boon you crave.
Midir:
O king, it is a little thing.
All that I ask is this, that I may touch
with my own lips the white hand of the queen:
and that sweet Etain, whom you love so well,
should listen to a little echoing song that I have made
Down by the foam on sea-drowned shores.
Eochaidh:
Sir, I would that boon were other than it is: for the queen sleeps,
Grown sad with weariness and many dreams: but as you have
my kingly word, so be it.
Go, boy, to where the women sleep, and call the queen.
(He sinks wearily on his seat, more and more lost in gloom.
An old harper quietly takes up a harp and sings)
Old bard:
I have seen all things pass and all things go
Under the shadow of the drifting leaf:
Green leaf, red leaf, brown leaf,
Grey leaf blown to and fro, blown to and fro.
I have seen happy dreams rise up and pass
silent and swift as shadows on the grass:
Grey shadows of old dreams,
Grey beauty of old dreams:
Grey shadows on the grass.
(Etain is seen standing at the doorway, clad as she was
in the wood. She comes dreamily forward, as though seeing nothing.)
Eochaidh:
Welcome, my queen.
But, Etain, why do you come thus clad in green,
with hair entangled with the mystic mistletoe, as when I saw you first?
Etain:
I could not sleep. My dreams came close
and whispered in my ear. And someone played
A vague perplexing air without my room.
(Her eyes wander toward Midir. A look of half-recognition
enters her eyes. Eochaidh's eyes are clouded with anxiety)
Eochaidh:
This nameless lord has asked a boon from me. It is to touch the whiteness
of this hand with his hot lips, for he is fevered with a secret trouble,
and he would sing a song that he has made - dreaming a foolish,
idle dream, an idle dream.
(Etain, looking long and lingeringly at Midir, slowly gives him her hand.
When he has raised it to his lips, bowing, and let it go, she starts,
as if remembering something: puts her hand to her brow bewilderedly.)
Etain:
Fair, nameless lord, I pray you sing that song.
(Midir takes up the harp that stands
by the old minstrel's seat)
Midir:
(looking steadfastly at Etain)
How beautiful they are,
the lordly ones
who dwell in the hills,
in the hollow hills.
They have faces like flowers,
and their breath is a wind
that blows over summer meadows,
filled with dewy clover.
Their limbs are more white
than shafts of moonshine:
They are more fleet
than the march wind.
They laugh and are glad
And are terrible:
When their lances shake and glitter
Every green reed quivers.
How beautiful they are,
How beautiful
The lordly ones
In the hollow hills.
(Etain again puts her hand in her head bewilderedly,
Eochaidh makes a half-gesture as though to break the spell.
Etain turns from Eochaidh.)
Etain:
I have heard.. I have dreamed that song: O lordly ones
that dwell in secret places in the hollow hiis, Who have
put moonlit dreams into my mind and filled my noons with visions.
I heard sweet dewfall voices, and the clink, The delicate silvery spring
and clink of faery lances underneath the moon.
(Eochaidh looks at Midir half in dread, then takes a step
to Etain, who gently repulses him as if scarcely aware of him.)
(Midir again takes up the harp)
Midir:
I am a song
in the Land of the Young,
a sweet song:
I am love.
I am a bird
A bird with white wings
And a breast of flame,
singing, singing.
The wind sways me
On the quicken bough:
Hark! hark!
I hear laughter.
Among the nuts
on the hazel tree
I sing to the salmon
in the faery pool.
What is the dream
the salmon dream
in the pool of Connla
Under the hazels?
It is: There is no death,
Midir, with thee,
in the honeysweet land
of heart's desire.
It is a name wonderful,
It was born on the lips
of OEngus Og.
Go, look for it:
Lost name, beautiful,
Strayed from the honeysweet
Land of youth.
I am Midir, love:
But where is my secret
name in the land of
Heart's desire?
I am a bird
A bird with white wings
And a breast of flame,
Singing, singing.
(Etain moves a little nearer to Midir)
Etain:
I am a small green leaf in a great wood,
and you are the wind o' the south.
(Eochaidh takes two threatening steps towards Midir who,
with a gesture, prevents him. Eochaidh shrinks and covers his eyes)
Eochaidh:
I cannot come. I cannot reach to you.
What are these songs the harper sings?
Etain:
(as in a dream)
I cannot hear your voice so far away.
Eochaidh:
Come back, Come back! It is a dream that calls.
Etain:
I cannot hear your strange, forgotten words.
I go from dark to light.
Midir:
From dark to light.
Eochaidh:
O do not leave me, star of my Desire!
for now I know that you are part of me,
and I the clay, the mortal clay that longed to gain and keep
the starry Danann fire, the little spark that lives and does not die.
Midir:
Hasten, lost love, found love! Come, Etain, come!
Voices:
(in the far distance)
How beautiful they are,
the lordly ones
who dwell in the hills,
in the hollow hills.
Etain:
What are those sounds I hear?
Voices:
They have faces like flowers,
and their breath is a wind
that blows over summer meadows,
filled with dewy clover.
Midir:
Come, Etain, come! Afar the hillside maids are milking the wild deer;
the elf-horns blow; green harpers on the shores play a wild music out
across the foam, Rose-flusht on one long wave's pale front; the moon
of faery hangs, low on that wave.
Voices:
Their limbs are more white
than shafts of moonshine:
They are more fleet
than the March wind.
They laugh and are glad
And are terrible:
When their lances shake and glitter
Every green reed quivers.
In the land of youth
there are pleasant places
green joyful woods and fields
swift grey-blue waters.
(Midir slowly goes out, moving backwards, with arms
inviting Etain, who follows in a tranced ecstasy.)
Midir and chorus:
There is no age there
nor any sorrow,
as the stars in heaven
are the cattle in the valleys
great rivers wander
through flowery plains
streams of milk and mead,
streams of strong ale.
(When Midir and Etain have left
the hall a sudden darkness falls)
Voices:
There is no hunger
and no thirst
in the hollow land,
in the land of youth.
How beautiful they are
The lordly ones,
who dwell in the hills
the hollow hills.
They play with lances,
and are proud and terrible
Marching in the moonlight
With fierce blue eyes
Eochaidh:
My dreams! my dreams!
Give me my dreams!
(In the darkness and unseen by Eochaidh, Dalua moves in swiftly.
He touches Eochaidh with the gesture made before Etain in the wood.
Eochaidh momentarily stands stiff and erect, than falls. Dalua,
the Lord of Shadow, draws himself up to his full, regal height)
Voices:
They play with lances,
and are proud and terrible
Marching in the moonlight
With fierce blue eyes.
T H E E N D
Act 1
Act 2
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