University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Banqueting Hall in Eman of Macha. Nobles assembled. Enter Conor Mac Nessa, attended by Caffa the Druid, Barach, Conal Carnach, Cuchullan, Fergus, Ulster.
CONOR.
Welcome, my noble friends! right welcome all!
Ye are the noblest Princes of our land!
And these divine Professors of the Art
Of Poetry—bright Crown of all the Arts—
Who play on golden harps with silver strings,
Making melodious music for our souls—
Welcome—thrice welcome are ye all tonight!
Let Caffa, our dear kinsman, join with us—
The mightiest Musician of our Age—
He shall be Leader of our Highland Band;
For worthy is our great High Priest to sit
Beside the throne of Ulster's royal King.
Sound all your golden harps with silver strings,
Accompanying them with your sweet songs,
That you may show how much you love my love,
While we enjoy this grand festivity.
Break forth! loud as the Clarion of the Skies!

[They sing, Caffa leading them, while playing upon their harps, the following
ORPHIC HYMN.

CONOR.
Thanks, thanks, my noble friends! I thank you all!
But you, my generous Caffa! thank the most!
So David-like have you acquitted yourself—
Triumphantly bearing off the Palm to-night!

CAFFA.
I thank you much, my noble King! your praise
Sits like a Crown of Glory on my head.

CONOR.
Right worthy are you now to wear it there,
For truly have you proven yourself, this night.
The mightiest Musician of our times.
No gift goes unrewarded in our Realms.
This Crown, which I now place upon your brow,
Shall shame the brightest Diadems of Gods—
Withering with its perennial green,
The shortlived laurels of the mightiest kings!
They flourish only in the Spring of Time,
But this is amaranthine, born in Heaven,
Whose life is co-eternal with the soul—
To decorate this young Immortal's brow!

CAFFA.
For in the lifetime of the truly great,
Who live above all time, there are no years—
No Winters withering their immortal Bays;
For though unto our mortal eyes they seem
To die, they are the inhabitants of Heaven;
For he who lives the perfect life on earth,
Not only lives in Heaven, but Heaven in him.

CONOR.
And you, my nobles! let me thank you too!
For right well does your presence here this night,
Show your exceeding love for me.

ULSTER.
With our
Bowed heads, our hearts uplifted, we return
You thanks, great King!

CONOR.
I thank you for your love.
You sit here on the Benches of the Gods,
Around this central Sun of all your light,
Like Stars in Heaven, all singing while you shine—
Reflecting back the glory you receive.
Like Morning Glories ranged around their stems,
Blowing their purple Trumpets at the skies
To hail the Dawn; so sit ye blooming here,
Chanting sweet Hymns of Praises to your King.

ULSTER.
Whatever you may choose to say of us,
Our deeds shall make it like the fan that cools
The face of Beauty—it shall take away
More perfume than it brings.

CONOR.
A Godlike thought!

CAFFA.
A man like this we look for every day
To guide our Ship of State safe into Port;
Like Torna the Intelligent, or Niall
Of the Nine Hostages; or Connal, named
Of the Swift Steeds, who sat on Munster's throne;
Or great Colum Kill, the wise Monk of Hy;
Or good Mac Brodin, Erin's wisest Bard—
Whose voice, like some clear rivulet at night,
Leaping down Felim's fair-inclining Hill—
(Whence he dispensed his laws to all the land)
Making sweet music, as it goes, to green
The longing vales, while the birds sing to hear
Its sweet fortuitous intuition flow—
(The Eden-crystalline songs that Nature sings)—
Filled every human heart with perfect joy;
Or Cormac, who was Judge of judgments true—
A King who gave advice to Kings of old,
In Temor's mighty Halls; or strong-armed Conn,
Victorious in a hundred fields—who rushed
From Croghan's Halls, conquering Eogan Mor
On Lena's bloody plains; or Feradah the Just;
Or matchless Moran, once his father's judge—
That stately wood which all the trees obeyed—
The glory of whose frontlet was his front;
Whom Kithro, Laureate to the King, with songs
Of glory, fired his mighty soul to go
With Connal, son of Crogran, of Connaught,
And matchless Conn, against the mightiest foe.
Like Labhra's Laureate, Fercart, was his soul
Full of immortal songs!

CONOR.
The Past well praised.

CAFFA.
These were the Trees who bore immortal fruit—
Apples of Paradise!

CONOR.
Forbidden fruit?

CAFFA.
Forbidden but to lips of Gods.

CONOR.
Such fruit
Brought death into the world—when Adam Eve
Gave his immortal for her mortal life.

CAFFA.
The unworthy cannot taste such heavenly food;
For Angels only eat the Bread of Heaven.

CONOR.
Then what is left us mortals—but to starve?

CAFFA.
He who anticipates the life to come,
Enjoys an Apotheosis among
The Shining Ones above mortality.

CUCHULLAN.
Apples of Gold pulled from a Silver Tree.

FERGUS.
A Rose of Eden full-blown in the bud;
Like eggs that hatch their birds full-fledged when laid.

CAFFA.
Knowledge of good brings life—of evil, death.
Wisdom is born of Heaven—Ignorance, of Hell.

CUCHULLAN.
Apples of gold in silver salvers brought;
Like those Hesperian Apples, famed of old,
Guarded by no fierce dragon, but pure Love.

CONOR
(ironically).
Nor is there any serpent in the core—
Unlike the bitter one that Eve bestowed
On Adam for his immortality.

CAFFA.
The fruit we love grows on that Tree of Heaven,
Whose roots are anchored in the heart of God.

CUCHULLAN.
Your golden words inwoven with the silk
Of silver, embossing flowers of rarest truth,
Become the garments of divinest forms
Of Beauty, voluptuous with pure love.
Cornelian cherries, grapes of amethyst,
And rich barbaric pearls do curdle on
The web in the grotesquest forms of Art,
Making an Eden of the priceless work,
By the caduceus of your Art, twined by
The serpent of your power, you did all this.

CONAL CARNACH.
His thoughts flowed from his soul in words of love,
Like the majestic march of some great host
Of liberated peers, going to receive
Their crowns of glory from the hands of kings.

CONOR
(to Ulster).
Most worthy Patriot! Pillar of our Throne!
Thou art my Lucifer—my Morning Star!
Adding new joy to this auspicious hour.

ULSTER.
We are informed, dread Sovereign, that the King
Of Scotland has attacked great Usna's sons,
And driven them from the land.

CONOR.
Good news for us,
But bad for them. Where do they say these three
Young heroes lodge?

ULSTER.
Far in the Isle of Skye,
Couched on a milkwhite arm of the Sea in Lorne.

CONOR.
Would they were in the sky.

ULSTER.
Better that they
Should die at home, than killed by Scotland's King;
For it is hard to die in foreign lands—
That, too, for any woman in the world.

CONOR.
Let them return again, so that it be
In due obedience to our laws.

ULSTER.
But they
May not return from those far Western Isles.

CONOR.
Let them be sent for, then.

ULSTER.
But, who shall go?

CONOR.
I know not that; but this I wish to know,
Whether or not you ever saw a place
More beautiful than Eman, my own home?

ULSTER.
We never did, great King—nor any house
So well attended as this one.

CONOR.
Well, then,
I want to know whether or not you know
Of anything you want which you have not?

ULSTER.
We know of nothing—having all we want—
Our Crown, the priceless bounty of your love.

CONOR.
Then you are richer far than I can boast;
For I do know a burden under which
We all do lie.

ULSTER.
What want is that, great King?

CONOR.
That the three greatest warriors in the world—
Most valiant Luminaries of the Gaels—
Should now be absent from this festive hall,
To-night, for any woman in the world—
She, too, a prostitute from Conor's bed.

ULSTER.
Most true, great King—we had forgotten that.
They are the three brave Sons of Albhi, one
Of Caffa's three fair daughters—Nature's queens.
Scions of a King are they—three Kings. Had we
But dared, we would have said this long ago;
For Ullad would be now, this very hour,
The mightiest Province in the world, wer't not
That they are absent from our homes tonight.
No other Ultonians equal them,
Such Lions of military prowess are they.
But who will go for them?

CONOR.
I know not that;
But this I know, that he who loves me best
Will go—Naisa being under solemn oath
Not to return with any, save these three—
Brave Conal Carnach, Fergus, Son of Roy,
And great Cuchullan. Now, then, I will know
Who of these three best loves myself. So, first,
Brave Conal Carnach, come this way.

CONAL CARNACH.
I will.

CONOR.
What would you do, should Usna's Sons be slain,
While on their way, under your guarantee?

CONAL CARNACH.
Not one man's death alone would give me peace,
But all should die who would attempt their lives.

CONOR.
Then, Conal Carnach is no friend of mine—
Nor shalt thou go. Come forth, Cuchullan, come.
What would you do, should Usna's Sons be slain
Under your guarantee?

CUCHULLAN.
I pledge my soul
To my Almighty God, that he who would
Insult them on the way, should die that hour.

CONOR.
Most true, Cuchullan, he would die! By which
I know thou art no friend of mine. Away!
Thou shalt not go. Come, Fergus, come to me.
What would you do, should Usna's Sons be slain
Under your guarantee?

FERGUS.
Why, by my soul,
(Although I swear not to attempt thy life),
They all should die together as one man.

CONOR.
Then, if you swear not to attempt my life,
You, now, shall go for them. So, now, prepare—
For they will come with you. Returning thence,
Call at the mansion of great Barach, Son
Of Cainti—pledging me thy solemn word,
That, then, so soon as you shall have returned—
Whether it be by night or by the day—
You will not tarry till you send them here,
To Eman's halls.

Enter Illan Fin, Buini, and Callon.
FERGUS.
I pledge my soul I will.
Come, comrades, let us bear away to-night;
For I will guarantee their safe return.
Come, Illan Fin, Buini, Ruthless Red—
My noble sons—come, you must go with me.
Come, Callon, bearer of my shield, come forth.
Now for the fortress of great Usna's Sons.

[Exeunt omnes.
CONOR.
Come hither, Barach. Do I know thy heart?

BARACH.
You do, my lord; you know you do.

CONOR.
Then, mark!
Have you a feast prepared for me?

BARACH.
I have;
But could not bring it over with me here.

CONOR.
Then give it Fergus, just as soon as he
Arrives in Erin; for, you know, it is
His solemn vow not to refuse a feast.

BARACH.
I will, my lord, as soon as he arrives.
Farewell!

CONOR.
May greatness weave around thy brow
A diadem of glory, like that crown
Worn by the Angels, seen by the Man of God
In the Apocalyptic vision of the Heavens.

BARACH.
Bright as the one the King of Ulster wears.

CONOR.
Which thou shalt wear long after I am dead.

BARACH.
God grant that you may never die, great King.
But I must go—the night is growing late.
Farewell!

CONOR.
Farewell. Remember what I said.

BARACH.
Farewell! I will be faithful to my trust.

CONOR.
Be faithful: keep but Fergus there, while they
Move on to Eman—then my cup is full.

[Exit Barach.

SCENE II.

A Private Apartment in the Palace of the King of Duntrone.
Enter Eogan Mor to the King.
EOGAN MOR.
Great King! I have good news for you!

KING.
What news?

EOGAN MOR.
Never, till this bright day, have I beheld
A wife worthy of you.

KING.
What one is she?

EOGAN MOR.
The one I saw wrapped in Naisa's bed
This morning—the only one on earth
Meet for the Sovereign of these Western Isles.
Let him be killed that you may have her now.

KING.
No, let him not be killed: for that might prove
Disastrous to our cause; but go to her;
Solicit her fair hand—see her alone—
Promise her everything; if she refuse,
Then we will see what we can do.

EOGAN MOR.
I will;
It shall be done as you desire.

KING.
But stay;
Before you go, order the Soldiers out,
That we may draw Naisa into battle;
And, thereby, have full time to talk with her.

EOGAN MOR.
I will. It shall be done at once. I go.

[Exit.
KING.
What lovely thing is this he tells me of?
Of all the men I ever knew, he is
Most faithful to his trust. I will resort
To her during his absence in the war,
And there confer with her in his own Tent.
If she be beautiful as he describes,
I will not rest until I make her mine.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

A Grove of Oaks. Enter Conor to Caffa.
CONOR.
Gods! Caffa! that terrible sight last night
Has almost driven me mad!

CAFFA.
Do you repent?

CONOR.
Repent of what?

CAFFA.
Of all your sins.

CONOR.
What sins?

CAFFA.
Your manifold sins of love of power—of lust—
And murder!

CONOR.
Murder! Who said so?

CAFFA.
Thy wife—
The spirit of thy wife.

CONOR.
My wife?

CAFFA.
Thy wife!

CONOR.
Do the dead lie?

CAFFA.
No—but they speak the truth!

CONOR.
Then may her tongue be palsied when she comes
Again! Is not the spirit of the wife,
After decease, true to her husband's bed?

CAFFA.
Much oftener than the husband to the wife.

CONOR.
Would she betray her husband after death?

CAFFA.
No—not unless he would betray himself.

CONOR.
Yet she informed you I did murder her?
For doing which I hate her in the grave!

CAFFA.
Yet, all she told was not the half that thou
Hast said.

CONOR.
Said when?

CAFFA.
The night she came to us.

CONOR.
What said I then?

CAFFA.
Told all that thou hadst done!

CONOR.
No, I said nothing, but stood dumb with grief!

CAFFA.
Struck dumb with fear. That fear betrayed thy soul!

CONOR.
No, you inferred it from her bloody robes.

CAFFA.
What would those robes have said to thee? The same
That they did speak to me,—that she had died
By violence! Is it not so? I see
Thy tongue is charmed again.

CONOR.
As thine should be.
Art thou not Kinsman to my soul?

CAFFA.
I am,
By blood—but not by bloody deeds.

CONOR.
Art thou
Not God's High Priest?

CAFFA.
I am—I hope I am—
I do profess to be—trusting my Tree
Is known by the good fruit it bears.

CONOR.
Well, then,
Cannot man's soul confess itself to thee,
Without betraying itself to endless ruin—
When this confession is the road to Heaven?

CAFFA.
It can—but you have not confessed—denied.

CONOR.
Should I confess, would that absolve the sin?

CAFFA.
Confession, in contrition, made to God,
Would surely wash away your sin—make you
As white as new-washed wool, fresh shorn
From one of David's lambs.

CONOR.
Then I will not
Confess to thee—so, charm thy golden tongue,
That it be palsied not in death! You know
My power!

CAFFA.
I know thy weakness well. He who
Could not stand up before the holy face
Of his dead-living wife, returned from Heaven
To visit him again on earth with love—
To warn him from the error of his way—
Could not before the immaculate mail I wear!

CONOR.
Nay! you mistake my drift. I meant not that
I wished to make you fear, but merely chide you
To work enchantment on your tongue.

CAFFA.
Had you
But wrought the like enchantment on your soul,
It were not necessary now to ask
This grace of me; but you do know I know.

CONOR.
Then if you know, answer me what I ask:
Believe you in the transmigration of souls?

CAFFA.
I do. Why ask?

CONOR.
Because the thought has just
Occurred to me, that your Slessama's soul
Passed in Daidra's body at her death—
Her death-day being Daidra's day of birth.

CAFFA.
Why think you this?

CONOR.
Because she favors her.

CAFFA.
In purity she does, but that is all—
Although Daidra's body were a place
Fit for the dwelling of an Angel's soul.
Had you said Lavercam, you had been wise;
For they are more alike than twins.

CONOR.
Alike!
In wisdom they may be—but not in form,
Or feature—Lavercam being more than wise—
And beautiful as wise—more chaste than fair.

CAFFA.
You are not often wont to speak this way
Of woman's charms. Why do you laud her now?

CONOR.
Because of her resemblance to your wife.

CAFFA.
Is this the reason? Then you are not lost
Wholly to Virtue's charms?

CONOR.
Why should I be?
Am I not man? have I not had a wife—
A virtuous, amiable wife as yours?

CAFFA.
Then why not treat her as you speak of her?

CONOR.
I did—until she drove me mad with love
For one too far beneath my thoughts to name.

CAFFA.
For which you sent her out of time, before
Her time, into Eternity?

CONOR.
I did
Not send her there—she sent herself—where you
Had sent your wife, had she been false to you.

CAFFA.
Judge not, for you are judged aright,
And sentenced—sentenced, by yourself, to Hell!
From whose finality your soul can now
Make no appeal.

CONOR.
Well, you are frank; for which
I mean to thank you some of these odd days.

CAFFA.
I want no thanks for speaking truth. I give
You this advice as God's vicegerent here
On earth, hoping that you may flee the wrath
To come!

CONOR.
I hope I may. But since you spoke
Of Lavercam's resemblance to your wife,
I have resolved it in my mind to make
Her mine.

CAFFA.
Thy wife?

CONOR.
My wife.

CAFFA.
You would do well.

CONOR.
I would, for her resemblance to your wife.

CAFFA.
She would give lustre to your throne.

CONOR.
Just as
The Moon gives glory to the Sun—by clear
Reflection.

CAFFA.
She would incarnate the Moon,
Should you the Sun—therefore, reflect your light;
But should you fail to live his shining life,
Then, she would but betray your spots—not light.

CONOR.
Having lost Daidra, there is now no way
To make repayment but by Lavercam.

CAFFA.
I wish you all success—better than with
Your wife now dead.

CONOR.
And so do I myself,
If but for her resemblance to your wife.
For this, if nothing else, she shall be mine.

CAFFA.
You lost Daidra—you may lose her too.

CONOR.
Have you an eye that way?

CAFFA.
My eyes look up
To Heaven—where the Divine possessions lie;
There lives the wife I seek.

CONOR.
Then you can have
No relish for the things of earth. I have
No wife in Heaven, therefore, I seek one here.
While you fly upward with your Zenith love,
I downward to the opposite Nadir go.
I love the Venus Pandemos—you love
The Venus Urania best. Is this not so?

CAFFA.
It is—but sorry am I that it is.

CONOR.
Weep not for me—but for yourself. Learn, first,
That Charity begins at home.

CAFFA.
How know
You that—who never had her at your home—
Where she begins, or ends?

CONOR.
I want her not—
Having no use for her—my wife now dead—
And dear Daidra stolen away from me;
But you who do, should take good care of her—
For she does trouble us sometimes for alms.
But I must go. Farewell. When next we meet,
I hope to speak of my success with Lavercam,
If but for her resemblance to your wife.

[Exit.
CAFFA.
Lost, lost, lost! Yet, he must not be given up.
But for the sake of Usna's Sons, must not,
And fair Daidra,—heavenly Lavercam.
Let the vile Serpent hiss; by this alone
He tells that he is nigh,—needs to be shunned.
Let him seek Lavercam to be repulsed.
What did the devil get for seeking Heaven,
But finding Hell? So let him seek that bliss—
Then find the woe—for she is mine—all mine!
For I would love her—just because I must—
If but for her resemblance to my wife—
Which this poor fool pretends that he can see.
For from the hour that I first saw her face
In Eman, I have been her veriest slave—
If slave it be to lie down at her feet,
And sell my soul to her forever more,—
Living, as dying, serving her alone!
This is to love with love divine—the love
I have for her. Yet, when I love her so—
Which is forever—when my soul is set
On fire out of the radiance of her loveliness—
Hymning celestial songs of praise to her—
I thrill with fear, remembering my dear wife
In Heaven—lest she should make complaints to God
For my apparent infidelity;
When, God knows, as she does, that all my love
For her, is her resemblance to my wife.
If this be sinful, then I sin indeed.
If this sin bring me death, then I must die;
For I can no more cease to love her than
I can to live—or die against God's will;
For when this ends, then I must cease to be.
Feeling this love grow stronger, day by day,
Which time, through age, in most men's hearts makes cold—
Coupled with memory of my wife in Heaven—
Makes me reluctant to approach too near—
This growing stronger as I wish her most—
Until, sometimes, I feel that I must die,
Or tell her all my soul, or see her not—
Which I must do or die! Then, it appears
That life is Hell—that death would give me peace—
That love is pain—but still—I cannot die—
I still must love—love on through life through pain,
Through death, through Hell, to my eternal Home
In Heaven! This is the way I live. Even now.
I long to look at her, yet fear to see
Her face—lest my dear wife in Heaven should cry
Out, in my hearing, unto God, Forbear!
In memory of your Bridal Vow to me!
So that the pains of Tantalus are mine!
But I must love—must, loving, feel this pain.
So, I will see her, bring it life or death!

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

Naisa's Tent. Daidra discovered alone.
Enter Eogan Mor, disguised as the King's Messenger.
EOGAN MOR.
Is this Daidra whom I now address?

DAIDRA.
It is—Naisa's wife.

EOGAN MOR.
Then you will hear
A message from my master's lips—the King?

DAIDRA.
If couched in language for the female ear.

EOGAN MOR.
It shall be so,—none other would I bring.

DAIDRA.
What is your will?

EOGAN MOR.
My master's will,—your hand.

DAIDRA.
My hand? What would he with an empty hand?

EOGAN MOR.
That he may fill it with himself.

DAIDRA.
That were
A hand too full—or, rather, two hands full.

EOGAN MOR.
What he would wish of all things most, would be,
Your hand full of your heart—your heart of love.

DAIDRA.
That I can never give. If he would have
My hand, he must put up with emptiness—
For I have nothing else to put in it.

EOGAN MOR.
This he would, no doubt, rather have than nought;
But would prefer the hand with your heart in it.

DAIDRA.
I have none to give—having given it all
Away to my Naisa long ago.

EOGAN MOR.
But you can take it back again, you know.

DAIDRA.
I cannot take it back. He has it all.
Nor would I if I could. There is no King
Greater than Usna's Sons—Naisa being
Their King. So, you may know how great he is—
Greater, by far, than Scotland's King.

EOGAN MOR.
Most glad
Am I his servant only hears your words—
Else your Naisa were no longer king.
What message shall I bear to him?

DAIDRA.
Bear this,
That I am King Naisa's queen—could be
No greater were I queen of Scotland's King!

EOGAN MOR
(aside).
This is no woman—she is Heaven's own Queen!—
But he will seat you on his throne. Of all
The Albanachs, he is the greatest man.

DAIDRA.
I have a throne greater than he can give—
My husband's heart. Next to God's throne in Heaven,
My throne—throned in the bosom of a god!

EOGAN MOR.
Farewell! I go to take him back your boon—
An empty hand.

DAIDRA.
Take it—the only gift
An honest married woman should bestow.

[Exit Eogan Mor.
Enter Naisa.
DAIDRA.
Naisa! you have come in blessed time—
For Scotland's King would make me his own wife.

NAISA.
No doubt of that—as any one would do;
But would you be his wife?

DAIDRA.
Not were he King
Of all the world! I am the wife of all
The King I wish, until I be the Bride
Of Heaven, which I will be when he is dead
And gone to Heaven; but not before, except
In heavenly deeds.

NAISA.
Then let him send for you;
But flatter him by promising your hand,
That we may have more time to make our way
To some bright Isle, where we may reign the king
And queen.

DAIDRA.
I will—do just as you desire.

NAISA.
Then we will be molested there no more.

DAIDRA.
But I did feel in duty bound to tell
You of this thing.

NAISA.
Did right in doing so;
For thou art dearer to my heart than is
The blood that circles through my veins. Go in.

[Daidra goes into the Tent.
Re-enter Eogan Mor, as the King's Herdsman.
EOGAN MOR.
We want recompense for our cattle slain.

NAISA.
This you shall have. How much do you demand?

EOGAN MOR.
Two cattle for every one slain by your men.

NAISA.
That is not just. We will not give you two.

EOGAN MOR.
Then we will take your men for pay.

NAISA.
Then come
And take them, if you can.

EOGAN MOR.
That we will do,
And instantly.

NAISA.
Let me advise you—when you
Return, send some one here who has some sense,
And knows what justice is—then we will talk
With him.

EOGAN MOR.
I am that man. I know what is
My right, as well as you or any man;
And that I mean to have.

NAISA.
That you shall have.
But leave me instantly! Away from this!

EOGAN MOR.
I will; but when I do return, you will
Not say, Away! but pass away yourself!
Till when, farewell! if well such men can fare.

[Exit.
NAISA.
Ainli! Ardan!
Enter Ainli and Ardan.
A Herdsman has been here,
Demanding payment for his cattle slain—
Charging us two for one.

AINLI.
Then let him charge.
I would not pay him two. What we have slain
We can remunerate him for—this we are now
Willing to do,—but not one Heifer more.
What we have slain, we slew, because we had
To slay, or die. This is my judgment on
The matter.

NAISA.
Just what I agreed to do;
But he refused, saying he meant to come
And force us to restore him two for one.

AINLI.
Then let him come—when we will take his men,
And make them pay him for his cattle slain.

NAISA.
By Heaven! we will! Meantime, go to the King,
(In order to avoid disturbance with
His men,—with whom we wish to live in peace)—
And tell him what this fellow says.

ARDAN.
I will.

NAISA.
This do, that we may have full time to do
Whatever we may like—go to the Isle
Of Skye, or stay here where we are.

ARDAN.
I will.
Farewell.

NAISA.
Farewell! May Heaven defend thy steps.

[Exit Ardan.
Re-enter Eogan Mor disguised as the King's Messenger.
NAISA.
What do you wish, Sir?

MESSENGER.
Nothing for myself;
But am commanded by my King to say,
That he demands your wife immediately.

NAISA.
My wife? Daidra, did he say?

MESSENGER.
Thy wife.

NAISA.
Is he deranged?

MESSENGER.
Deranged for love of her.

NAISA.
In love with her? Where did he ever see
My wife?

MESSENGER.
I know not that. I only know
That he is desperately in love with her,
And bade me bring her instantly to him.

NAISA.
What! now?

MESSENGER.
Even now.

NAISA.
By Heaven! he is deranged.

MESSENGER.
I grant you that his passion has grown wild;
But still his mind is tame as love.

NAISA.
Foul fiend!
Were his commands dictated with such force
As you betray?

MESSENGER.
They were—indeed they were.

NAISA.
What does he want with her?

MESSENGER.
For his own wife.

NAISA.
But does he offer nothing in return?

MESSENGER.
He does—
His fair young daughter, Angel of Duntrone.

NAISA.
What is her name?

MESSENGER.
Darthula, ever fair.

NAISA.
Is this his maintenance of quarterage
Bestowed on us, thus to demand my wife?

MESSENGER.
He charges nothing for your quarterage,
But bestows it on you of free good will—
Having done so before he knew your wife;
But in exchange will give you his own child,
And make you, at his death, heir to his crown.

NAISA.
The Crown of Scotland?

MESSENGER.
Scotland's Crown.

NAISA.
Well, then,
What answer do you expect?

MESSENGER.
Yea or nay.

NAISA.
What if I answer, Nay?

MESSENGER.
Then he will take her
By force of arms.

NAISA.
But did he tell you so?

MESSENGER.
He did—bidding me so inform your ear.

NAISA.
This you have done. What now do you expect?

MESSENGER.
An answer—Yea or Nay.

NAISA.
Suppose I give
Neither—what then?

MESSENGER.
I must return with what
You give.

NAISA.
Suppose I wait for time to think,
What would his highness say?

MESSENGER.
I know not that.

NAISA.
But would he have her, after her true love
For me had made her fruitful? mine for her
Had grafted on her Tree of Life the bud
Which soon will blossom in an infant rose?

MESSENGER.
I know not that; but tell you what I know.

NAISA.
But if he wish to make exchange for her,
Setting his daughter in her place—the Crown
Of Scotland in to boot—proving how high
He values her—would he not grant me time
To reflect on it?

MESSENGER.
Perhaps he would, although
I never heard him say—therefore, affirm
Nothing but what I know.

NAISA.
If this be so,
He did not bid you tear her from my arms?

MESSENGER.
He bade me say what I have said.

NAISA.
Suppose
I send him word that I will think of this—
What then?

MESSENGER.
Then I will take him what you send.

NAISA.
Then tell him I will think of this. If his
Fair daughter, coupled with his Crown, have more
Rare charms for me than my Daidra has,
I doubt not we will trade; if not, why, then,
I doubt not, we will not.

MESSENGER.
This, then, is your
Reply?

NAISA.
It is—sent by a King's Son to a King—
A King—peremptory but politely sent.

MESSENGER.
With this I go to him. Farewell!

NAISA.
Farewell!
[Exit Eogan Mor.
By Heaven! if he do buy her from these arms,
He'll have to pay me more than forty crowns,
With all of Scotland's daughters in to boot.

[Exit.

SCENE V.

A beautiful Garden. Darthula is discovered tending the flowers. Enter Ardan.
ARDAN.
Fair queen! pardon me that I come this morn
So suddenly to disturb thy heavenly grace!
I took thee for the Angel of the flowers.

DARTHULA.
Was that the cause of thy so sudden entrance?

ARDAN.
It was, dear lady!

DARTHULA.
Then you did not come
Because I am Darthula?

ARDAN.
That I did,
For being thus an angel in disguise.

DARTHULA.
Then I'm not prized for what I am, but my
Resemblance to some heavenly dream of yours.
What if I should fall short of that rare dream?

ARDAN.
The rich embodiment of all my dreams!
The fairest Real of my Ideal ever born!

DARTHULA.
Thou shalt be called not Ardan, after this,
But Ardent, from the ardor of thy love.

ARDAN.
The Sun loves not the Moon with half the fire
My soul now burns for thee!

DARTHULA.
Art thou as true
To me as he is to the Moon?

ARDAN.
More so.
Art thou to me as she is to the Sun?

DARTHULA.
More so; for she does change at every month—
Sometimes crescent, sometimes apogee—
But I am always full—as full of love
As he of light—my love being heavenly fire.

ARDAN.
But still, through every change, she is the same—
Putting those several phases on each month,
To please her lord by being ever new.
Art thou the Angel of these flowers?

DARTHULA.
That is
For you to say—for me to call them mine.

ARDAN.
You are; for you do minister to them.
This garland I have woven for you. Read it—
Thou wilt find therein the poetry of love,
Spoken in odorous words, sweeter than tongue
Can tell.

DARTHULA.
Here are the Violet, Lily, Rose—
Which say Truth, Purity, and Love. It is
A beautiful bouquet. But, then, I would
Much rather hear the language of thy tongue—
This silent music thrilling not the soul,
Like the soft eloquence of passionate speech.

ARDAN.
When the tongue falters to express our love,
We have recourse to silence, to reveal
What none but Angels' tongues can tell.
For there are times our hearts are far too full
For the chained tongue to utter half our joys;
As noisy streams, when swollen by rains, flow on
In silence over the very shoals, that erst
Made music through the listening woods all day.

DARTHULA.
But 'tis not so with you—you are not dumb.

ARDAN.
I am—to tell half my deep love for thee!

DARTHULA.
Then let it be untold, till you have time
To hold such dialogue with me.

ARDAN.
I have
Time now, would you unchain your tongue, to loose,
The fetters that now silence mine. The rills
Of language flowing from our hearts, shall mix
And mingle, gathering volume as they flow,
Till, like Ezekiel's River, they do water all
The world with our immortal joy of love.

DARTHULA.
One drop would make my full cup overflow.

ARDAN.
That drop you then let fall in my full cup.
Oh! my Darthula! did you ever love?

DARTHULA.
Never till now.

ARDAN.
Then you are not like me—
For I have always loved—loved only thee.
Before mine eyes had ever seen thy face,
I had beheld thee in my dreams.

DARTHULA.
Oh! love!
You echo but the voice of mine own soul.

ARDAN.
Then we are one in soul, as we shall be
In blest reality of married joys—
If you but say all mine is thine—all thine
Is mine.

DARTHULA.
All mine is thine—all thine is mine.

ARDAN.
Forever thine. Then we are one in soul—
Soon to be joined together in the joy
Unspeakable of wedded bliss!

DARTHULA.
Oh! joy!

ARDAN.
Blest joy of joys! The union of two souls
In perfect love, like ours, is like the joy
The Christian feels on entering Heaven—divine!

DARTHULA.
But what will father say?

ARDAN.
What will he say?

DARTHULA.
I hardly know.

ARDAN.
You know so well, you durst
Not say.

DARTHULA.
I know so well, I do not care.

ARDAN.
Will he object?

DARTHULA.
Of course he will—as he
Would have me marry some great King, I do
Not love.

ARDAN.
Then he cannot object—for you
Do love a King—son of a King.

DARTHULA.
A King
To me.

ARDAN.
Then tell him so—if he object;
But be at peace—for I am so. But, love!
We have to part! Two, loving as we do,
Should never part—not, for one moment, part!

DARTHULA.
But we will meet again.

ARDAN.
We will—that soon.
Farewell! farewell! till we shall meet again!

[Embraces her, and exit.
DARTHULA.
Now he is gone, and I am left alone.

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

Naisa's Tent. Enter Naisa and Ainli.
NAISA.
But look! the Messenger returns!
Enter Eogan Mor (as Messenger).
What now?

EOGAN MOR.
I have returned to say the King demands
The immediate surrender of your wife.

NAISA.
What! now?

EOGAN MOR.
Even now—brooks no delay—but bade
Me bring her instantly!

NAISA.
Take her from me
Against my will?

EOGAN MOR.
If with your will you will
Not give her up.

NAISA.
By Heaven! lay but the weight
Of your small finger on her—touch her even—
And I will cut you all to pieces! Go!—
Go—to your King—tell him to come himself,
And take her off! If he will not, then send
His army here! we long for that bright day
When we will seat ourselves on Scotland's throne!
A Son of Usna sends this word to him—
Son of a King! Daidra's loyal lord—
And Ulster's King! Away to him! tell him
That forty thousand thrones were far too poor
To purchase one small lock of hair from out
The luscious vineyard of her clustering curls!
Away to him!

EOGAN MOR.
This will be news to him—
Such as was never sent to him before.
Before to-morrow's sun shall rise in Heaven,
His army will be here to force her from
Your arms.

NAISA.
Tell him to come; but not to fail
To bring his daughter in exchange. We are
Most anxious to behold her heavenly face.
Tell him to come along with her.

MESSENGER.
Farewell.
I go to do your bidding—but beware
Of Scotland's King!

[Exit.
NAISA.
I will beware of him—
Ensnare him too. The Net is laid for him—
The old Lion—no mortal rat shall gnaw.

Enter Ardan.
ARDAN.
What think you of this Scottish King, good lads?

AINLI.
I think that Want will be his master—he
The utmost vassal of that want.

NAISA.
By Heaven!
He will, dear brother! Thus do some vile Kings
Serve their desires as they make others serve.

ARDAN.
As the parched traveller, in his hour of thirst,
Pants for the cooling streams, so does my soul
For that dear daughter's love.

NAISA.
What daughter's love?

ARDAN.
The King's—the daughter of Duntrone.

NAISA.
By Heaven!
Well, this beats all! Where saw you her?

ARDAN.
At home—
In the King's Garden.

NAISA.
What! not in a dream?

ARDAN.
A Dream, indeed—she seemed more beautiful
To me, than Day does unto Night appear,
After long darkness, when there is no Moon—
As if the Sun should rise up at midnight!

NAISA.
A Vision of Delight!

ARDAN.
Seen through the Ivory Gate
Of Dreams.

NAISA.
Well, this is wonderful indeed!
In the broad daylight of the opening Heavens!
But did she see you with the same couched eyes,
Through the same gate?

ARDAN.
I hope she did—for through
Each other's eyes we seemed to feel, as two
Rapt spirits enter Heaven, our souls' embrace—
Each one taking the other's place in joy—
Interpreting the Pythagorean dream
Of transmigration in our lives of love.

NAISA.
Then we will bargain for this old man's child—
Exchanging you for her, instead of my
Daidra here.

ARDAN.
God grant you may!

NAISA.
In this
Way we will liquidate his great demand.

ARDAN.
But should we fail, what then?

NAISA.
We will not fail.
If, with the riches of her love for you,
You fail to purchase pardon of the King,
Then we will settle in the Isle of Skye.
Come—let us now to arms—that, when he comes,
We may be ready to abide the worst;
Or, with his daughter, fly to that bright Isle
Where we will reign Kings over Scotland's King.

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE VII.

A Druidical Grove near Eman. Enter Caffa attended by Lucifer.
CAFFA.
When was God first called Elohim?

LUCIFER.
Not long
After the fall of Lucifer, who was
King over one-third of the Host of Heaven.
I was Lightbringer then, as now, of Night.
Is that upon the scroll? What more wouldst know?

CAFFA.
When did the Rooakh Elohim first speak
To Moses?—Lucifer, tell me the truth!

LUCIFER.
Not in the first beginning, but the last;
For this world was created Berashith.

CAFFA.
Your last words, Lucifer, are true. What is
The number of the Spiritual World?

LUCIFER.
Three—as the Trinity is Three.

CAFFA.
Which one
Was thine?

LUCIFER.
The second from the Throne of God.

CAFFA.
What were thine Angels called?

LUCIFER.
The Morning Stars.

CAFFA.
How many fell with thee?

LUCIFER.
Twelve legions fell.

CAFFA.
That is the third part of the heavenly host!

LUCIFER.
Who told you so? Is that upon the scroll?
If thou wouldst know the dignity of Man,
Remember, he was first called “Man” in Heaven—
(Adam was his last name in Paradise—)
For he was once an Angel like I am.

CAFFA.
Was he one of the Angel-men who fell?

LUCIFER.
That thou shouldst know, seeing thou art not now
In Heaven.

CAFFA.
Has he the same soul that he had
In Heaven?

LUCIFER.
Man's soul is Man. Thou art thy soul.

CAFFA.
What darkened earth?

LUCIFER.
The fall of Lucifer,
Son of the Morning.

CAFFA.
Ah! the evil thou
Hast done! Hadst thou but kept thy former state,
I would be happy now in Heaven.

LUCIFER.
But why
Was I not happy there?

CAFFA.
It was thy pride
That brought thee low!

LUCIFER.
I know that I was proud,
But wisdom made me so—that which thou dost
Desire the most.

CAFFA.
That should have kept thee pure;
For by it thou couldst know the more of God.

LUCIFER.
But not in knowledge equal Him. This is
The fruit of knowledge, that it cannot be
Made satisfied with what it has, but must
Have more. This is the curse of all mankind!
I sought to know that which cannot be known
To any one but God, which, seeking, made
Me what you see me now!

CAFFA.
A soul most damned,
Yet proud in thy damnation!

LUCIFER.
Thou sayest true.

CAFFA.
Thy wisdom should have told thee thou couldst not
Be wise as God.

LUCIFER.
I did not make my soul.
It was my nature to desire. The fault
Was not in me.

CAFFA.
Who was it in? not God.
Thou wert created free to choose. Thou didst
Desire that which was not to be desired.

LUCIFER.
Had not my soul been made, it would
Not have desired. How came it by that power?

CAFFA.
It was thy wilful pride that made thee fall.

LUCIFER.
Will is the attribute of soul. Had not
My soul been made, I would have had no will.
How came I by that soul?

CAFFA.
God gave the soul—
Its power was misapplied.

LUCIFER.
But how? not by
My will, which is the attribute of soul—
It was my destiny.

CAFFA.
But are you now
More wise than when you fell?

LUCIFER.
In many things
I am. I know more of this world—of Man.
My being, then, was but the Prophecy
In Heaven of what I was to be on earth.

CAFFA.
But how can you remember what I have
So long forgot,—my former state in Heaven?

LUCIFER.
Because thy body hides it from thy soul.

CAFFA.
You say that Man came from the Angel-World;
But where was Woman all this time?

LUCIFER.
In Man.
Was she not taken from his side?

CAFFA.
Methinks
His Heaven should have been by his side in Heaven.

LUCIFER.
But her identity was lost in his.
It is so at this day. She has no will
Nor being separate from his. This is
The reason why she must submit to him.

CAFFA.
What an oblivion was Man's fall from Heaven—
Blotting the memory of his former joys!
Where shall I bathe my weary soul to bring
Me back remembrance of that blessed day—
The Goshen of sweet peace—the spring of joy—
Around the Old Jerusalem above?
There is no Lethe but the grave—the grave!

LUCIFER.
Why, you seem sad. What is the matter now?

CAFFA.
This earth is then thy throne?

LUCIFER.
It is my throne;
But has been purified from what it was,
To what it is, since Man came down on it.
The Heavens were first created at high noon,
Which was the first beginning of all things—
Except this earth, which was created in
The afternoon, which soon was darkened by
The fall of Lucifer, which brought on night.
But after it was purified for Man,
The Morning then came on, which brought on Day.
Thus, wisdom is compared to Heaven's own light.
It is the soul's pure vision of the noon
Of God's eternal glory coming down
From Heaven.

CAFFA.
Ignorance, then, must be called Night.
For if thy falling brought on night, thy state
Must be—most ignorant indeed.

LUCIFER.
I care
Not for the state, so long as I can know
My origin. It is this knowledge in
My soul which makes me long to be in Heaven
Again! 'Tis this which tells thee thou art Man—
And, therefore, canst not die.

CAFFA.
The Devils are
Immortal, though, methinks, they long to die.

LUCIFER.
It is not in their nature thus to wish.
No part of God can wish to be that which
It cannot be.

CAFFA.
Thou art a part of God—
Dost thou not wish to be in Heaven again?

LUCIFER.
The time is coming when I will be there.
I am the shadow of my former self.

CAFFA.
Then you have hopes?

LUCIFER.
Why should I not? Is God
Not good? If He is good—as I well know,
From having dwelt so near His throne—why should
He not restore me, at some future day,
Back to my former glory in the Heavens?

CAFFA.
Then why do you deceive the sons of men?

LUCIFER.
Alas!
The sons of men deceive themselves—as you
Do now, presuming this of me.

CAFFA.
The Word
Of God bears record of the truth.

LUCIFER.
Men first
Reject the Word of God—then lay the blame
On me.

CAFFA.
That is not written on the scroll.
Why wert thou hurled from Heaven? Why did thy fall
Make dark the earth?

LUCIFER.
Why did Man fall? Why is
He not the same that he was once in Heaven?
For I am sure he did not spring from earth.
These questions must be answered—but not now.
Remember this, that what I am, I am!
That, what I am, that I was made to be,
Else I had never been. There was, at first,
A place for everything—then everything
Was made to suit that place. We both are proofs
Of this.

CAFFA.
Has not the earth been cursed but once?

LUCIFER.
Yes, many times. 'Twas cursed when Adam fell—
Then in the flood—or, rather, it was drowned.

CAFFA.
Thou wert the cause of it.

LUCIFER.
It is thy want
Of sense which makes thee tell me so. Is that
Upon the scroll?

CAFFA.
When was it blest?

LUCIFER.
When Christ
Came down, to show mankind how they might be
Restored back to their former glory whence
They fell.

CAFFA.
Most true—like everything on earth,
Its curses many, but its blessings few.
Farewell!

LUCIFER.
Farewell! till we shall meet again.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE VIII.

The interior of Naisa's Tent. Enter Darthula, who reclines upon a couch.
DARTHULA.
Here will I wait until I see him come,
Then, after ravishing my soul on him—
Rapt with the beauty of his heavenly face,
Return again back to my Palace home.
For, oh! this heart! this Angel of my breast,
Has lost all knowledge of its former joys,
In the sweet memory of his heavenly smiles.
Oh! Ardan! Ardan! Heaven come down on earth!
Let me but gaze once more on thy sweet face,
And this lost aching heart will be at rest!
For it is thine—all thine—forever thine!

Enter Daidra, who, upon observing her, stops suddenly.
DAIDRA
(aside).
Who can this be, lying here on my couch,
Dressed like a queen? The daughter of Duntrone?
It must be she! too beautiful for earth,
But yet not from the Heavens—for were she thence,
She would not lie here on my husband's couch!
Her jewels glitter like the stars by night!
What can she mean? Naisa is not here,
Else I would swear he was the Sun that had
Enticed this star to wander from her sphere.

Enter Naisa, in haste.
NAISA.
Now, my dear queen! one embrace of those lips,
Then for the chase where my two brothers are
[Kisses Darthula, who is asleep.
Now, then, farewell till we shall meet again!

[Exit.
DAIDRA.
Oh! God! is this the end of woman's love?
Thus to be wrecked here on this Rock of Hell!
So, he has swapped me for another's love—
The daughter of Duntrone? I know he has!
For he would kiss no woman but a queen!
But why lament? why waste my thoughts on him?
For he who would thus wrong my spotless love,
Is far beneath my hate as Hell from Heaven!
For after this, there is no day for me, but night—
Eternal night—that has no Morn beyond!
Now do I wish I was back home again,
With Conor in my native land! Alas!
How foolish was I, at the first, to leave!
Now, then, will I return to him again—
Begging his pardon on my bended knees;
For this is more than I can bear! Farewell!
Naisa! husband of my youth! my love!
Farewell forever more—never to meet
Again on earth!—never to meet in Heaven!
For Truth can never meet with Falsehood there!
Farewell! I go to Erin's Isle again!
For here I cannot—will not—stay! Farewell!
A thousand times—farewell! sad is my loss!
Who wert my joy on earth—my hopes of Heaven.
Oh God! that I must leave what I most love!
But I must pay him for his treachery!
I must—I will—because I must! Farewell!

[Exit.
Curtain Falls.