University of Virginia Library

THE SONS OF USNA:

A TRAGI-APOTHEOSIS, IN FIVE ACTS.

PREFACE.

The following Play is founded on a Milesian legend, translated from the original Irish by Dr. Keating, entitled “The Death of the Children of Usnach.” A beautiful translation of the ancient dramatic Irish tale, literally rendered from the original Gaelic, entitled “Daidra; or, The Lamentable Fate of the Sons of Usnach,” may be found in the first volume of the Transactions of the Gaelic Society of Dublin, by Theophilus O'Flanagan.

It will be perceived by the dramatic critic that I have adopted the English mode of pronouncing the Irish proper names, instead of the ancient Gaelic, as being not only more poetical, but decidedly more dramatic. Thus, Daidra is pronounced Da-i-dra; Naisa, Na-i-sa; Ainli, Ain-li; Ardan, Ar-dan; Lavercam, Lav-er-cam; Cuchullan, Cu-chul-lan; Conal Carnach, Con-al Car-nach; Buini, Bu-i-ni; Barach, Ba-rach; Manani, Ma-na-ni; Eogan Mor, E-o-gan Mor; and so of all the others.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

• MEN.
• Naisa, Son of Usna, by Ailbhi, daughter of Caffa, the Druid.
• Ainli, Son of Usna, by Ailbhi, daughter of Caffa, the Druid.
• Ardan, Son of Usna, by Ailbhi, daughter of Caffa, the Druid.
• Conor Mac Nessa, King of Ulster.
• Caffa, Druidical High Priest and Bard.
• Fergus, Nobleman, Conor's uncle, but a friend to the Sons of Usna.
• Cuchullan, Nobleman, cousin to the Sons of Usna.
• Conal Carnach, Nobleman, cousin to the Sons of Usna.
• Buini, the Ruthless Red, Son of Fergus.
• Illan, the Fair, Son of Fergus.
• Fiacara, Son of Conor.
• Barach, Nobleman, confidential friend of Conor.
• Ulster, Nobleman, also friend of Conor.
• Gannan, Son of Caffa, Tutor to Daidra.
• Manani, Rough Hand, Son of the King of Norway, instrument of Conor.
• Trendorn, Servitor of Conor.
• Callon, Shield-bearer of Fergus.
• Sons of Dura, friends of the Sons of Usna.
• Eogan Mor, Commander of the Forces of the King of Duntrone.
• Duntrone, King of Scotland.
• Lucifer, the great Lightbringer.
• WOMEN.
• Daidra, wife of Naisa, grand-daughter of Caffa.
• Lavercam, Slessama, the deceased wife of Caffa, disguised as the Guardian Angel of Daidra.
• Darthula, daughter of the King of Duntrone.
• Mevia, Queen of Connaught.
• Nobles, Soldiers, Spirit of Ethnea, Conor's deceased wife, Spirit of Illan the Fair, &c. &c. &c.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Scene.—Partly in Eman of Macha, in Erin, partly on the borders of Locke Eitche, in Alba.
Time of the Action.—About the middle of the First Century of the Christian Era.
The Plain of Eman. Gannan, Daidra's Tutor, discovered slaying a calf. Enter Daidra and Lavercam, her Guardian Angel.
DAIDRA.
Why, good Gannan! what are you doing here?

GANNAN.
Nothing—only killing a calf. What are you doing here?

DAIDRA.
Looking at you. But what
Are you killing it for?

GANNAN.
For you, of course—
Daidra, milkwhite Dove of Conor's cote.

DAIDRA.
What a pity it is to see it die!
Poor little thing! are you not sorry to see
Its blood run so?

GANNAN.
Not more so than you are
To eat its meat.

DAIDRA.
I think you ought to be—
For I would not have killed it for the world,
Nor anything that cannot help itself!

GANNAN.
But you would eat its meat for nothing, though.

LAVERCAM.
Poor soul! you know that she could never look
At anything in pain.

GANNAN.
Were I a calf,
I would be glad to die, at any time,
To be eaten by your sweet mouth.

DAIDRA.
God knows
I would not eat you for the world! Now that
I have seen it die so innocently—
Never having made one murmurous cry—
I would not eat one mouthful of it for all
The whole round world!

GANNAN.
By to-morrow you will
Have changed your mind. A hungry stomach is
The safest grave for all such sickly thoughts.

LAVERCAM.
Is it not a pity that this poor calf
Should die, when there is one deserves it more
In Eman.

DAIDRA.
Who is that?

LAVERCAM.
Why, that old Bull,
Who is forever bellowing after you,
His milkwhite Heifer, whom he keeps to mow
His Asphodelian meadows, knee deep
In flowers.

GANNAN.
Or, rather say, the Eagle, who,
From his high Eyrie up in Heaven, will soon
Pounce on this milkwhite Dove.

LAVERCAM.
God save her soul!

DAIDRA.
That hour will never come. Before I would
Be Conor's wife, I would, by these fair hands,
Become the murdered Bride of Death!

GANNAN.
Brave girl!
You are most resolute—as eloquent as fair—
Most worthy to be made great Conor's queen.

DAIDRA.
Never his bride—much less his queen.

GANNAN.
You are
Already his—wedded from infancy.

DAIDRA.
But only in the name. Who cares for that?
Not I. For that is all. Never to be
In fact, or act.

GANNAN.
You have an Angel's tongue,
But a mortal's mind to direct it right.
You have fulfilled that great command of Christ—
Be wise as serpents, but harmless as doves.
For the Devil, that beguiled our mother Eve
With loss of Eden, I see lurking round
Your soul.

DAIDRA.
Let him beware, then, lest I sting
His soul to death!

GANNAN.
But he will make you his.

DAIDRA.
Not if I should run away with another.

GANNAN.
But then you must not run away. Your loss
Would cost us both our lives.

LAVERCAM.
Most true.

DAIDRA.
He has
All power to take my life, but none to make
Me marry him.

GANNAN.
But he will make you his
In spite of you.

DAIDRA.
Not after I have gone.

GANNAN.
But you can never go, we being here
Commanded to restore you back to him
At any time that he may call for you.

DAIDRA.
But would you do this? Would you, Lavercam?

LAVERCAM.
You know I would not, love!

DAIDRA.
God bless your soul!
You have been kind to me my whole life long—
More than a mother! Now I thank you for it.
Once, I did think my Tutor was my friend;
But now he is Saint Peter to the King.
So let him be: he fills his office well.
Lock you this door, then keep the prison-keys;
There is an Angel here will let me out,
Even while the Jailor sleeps. She has, from God,
The key that can unlock the strongest door—
The Key of Love. With this, I will go forth,
In spite of everything that you can do.
[A Raven descends near where the calf lies.]
But look! dear Lavercam! behold that bird!
It comes to drink the poor calf's blood!

LAVERCAM.
It does;
And is a Raven-ous bird.

DAIDRA.
As black as Night!

LAVERCAM.
The Night made beautiful by Day. See how
Its ebon wings glint back the golden Sun.

DAIDRA.
It is an emblem of our Butcher's soul.

LAVERCAM.
It is too white to be thus black.

DAIDRA.
Why did
It come, if not to emblem this dark deed?

LAVERCAM.
To banquet on the young calf's blood.

DAIDRA.
What bird
Is it? the Crow?

LAVERCAM.
The Raven, love—a bird
Of Omen!

DAIDRA.
Ominous of what?

LAVERCAM.
Of death!

DAIDRA.
I said it was an Emblem of his soul—
The murderer of this calf.

LAVERCAM.
No, it is not—
But still an ominous bird—for when it croaks
Above the housetop, 'tis a sign of death
In some one of the innocent family.

DAIDRA.
God grant it may not croak above our house.

LAVERCAM.
Then let it drink the young calf's blood, for fear,
That, if you drive it away, it croak your death!

DAIDRA.
Yes, let it drink—there! do not scare it away!
God knows I do not want to die so young.

LAVERCAM.
That is the time to die—when you are young,
And free from sin. Then you can go to Heaven,
Like Enoch, or Elijah did, without the pain
Of suffering death.

DAIDRA.
Are all the young who die,
Translated into Heaven!

LAVERCAM.
They are—because they go
Wafted on Angel's wings, free from the death
Of sin—translated, like Christ was, in deeds
Of unimputed holiness.

DAIDRA.
God grant
That I may die that way, go into Heaven
On Angels' wings, like those two holy men.

LAVERCAM.
The good soul never dies, but always lives
Eternal in its purity, which is the soul
Of immortality.

DAIDRA.
Then I shall live
Forever, for I never will do wrong.

GANNAN.
What would a trembling Dove, like you, do in
A hawk's talons, but only die?

DAIDRA.
Why, die!
Which I would do, rather than marry him.

GANNAN.
Then you will die, for he will marry you
As certain as you live; for he has raised
You, from your infancy, to be his wife.

DAIDRA.
So you may think; but I will never be.
The husband I would have, must be a man
Whose hair is like that Raven's wing; his cheeks
As red as blood: his skin as white as snow.

LAVERCAM.
Then you can have your liking—for I know
A man who answers your description well.

DAIDRA.
Who is he, Nurse?

LAVERCAM.
Naisa—Usna's Son;
One of King Conor's household—noble too.

DAIDRA.
One of his Nobles?

LAVERCAM.
No, not his—but God's.
He walks among his Nobles like a God
Among bad men.

DAIDRA.
Oh! cruel fate!—Go, Nurse!
Tell him I want to see him instantly!
I cannot rest until I see his face!
Do tell him how I want to be his wife!
Oh! why have I not seen him long ago?

LAVERCAM.
Because you have been raised for Conor's bed—
Debarred that joy, having no power to choose.

DAIDRA.
But I have power to choose. Send him to me,
And I will show you that I have. Go, Nurse!
Tell him to meet me in the Bower of Bards,
Beside the brook—this evening—not to wait—
But in the Bower of Bards beside the brook.

LAVERCAM.
I go to do your wish. He shall be there
To-night, as you desire.

DAIDRA.
God bless your soul!
You have been more than mother unto me.
Go, my dear Nurse! may Angels guard your steps!
For I do long to tell him all my soul!
Then I will show you I have power to choose.

LAVERCAM.
Now, then, I go to do your wish. Farewell!

DAIDRA.
Farewell, dear Nurse! may Angels guard thy steps!

[Exit LAVERCAM.
GANNAN.
But stay, dear Princess! Did you think I was
Your foe? Nay, I was only joking you.
I will do everything I can for you;
And when the time shall come for you to go,
I will be ready to unlock the door,
And let you from the Fort.

DAIDRA.
I thank you much;
For you have always been a friend to me.
My days of pupilage are over now.
I am in love with one I never saw.
Farewell! May Angels watch above your head!

GANNAN.
I hope Naisa may be fair to you,
As he is good to us; for then I know
You will be happy, loving him so well.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.

A Druidical Grove. Enter Lavercam to Caffa.
CAFFA.
Oh! God! how glad I am to see you here!

LAVERCAM.
Not more than I to meet with you.

CAFFA.
Alas!
Were not Slessama now in Heaven in bliss,
I would believe that she were here on earth—
Thou art so much like her in face as form.

LAVERCAM.
Didst thou not love Slessama while on earth?

CAFFA.
Oh! more than loved! I worshipped her!

LAVERCAM.
But have
You loved any one since her death?

CAFFA.
I have—
But only one—one only one on earth—
But thee!

LAVERCAM.
Did you not, on her death-bed, swear
Never to love another, but to be
Forever true to her in thought, word, deed?

CAFFA.
I did—but who informed you so?

LAVERCAM.
Thou didst—
With thine own lips. Now thou dost swear the same
Fidelity to me.

CAFFA.
I do indeed—
And will perform my oath; for I do love
Thee, Lavercam, as mortal never loved
Before!

LAVERCAM.
We cannot love but one.

CAFFA.
We can—
I feel we can. There are some souls who have
This power—for I do know, within my soul,
That I did love Slessama with a love
Boundless—above all other love, except
My love for thee!

LAVERCAM.
But was she not your wife
On earth?

CAFFA.
She was—the truest ever born!

LAVERCAM.
Is she not now your wife in Heaven?

CAFFA.
She is—
As true to me as Christ to God.

LAVERCAM.
But are
You true to her?

CAFFA.
I am—if love can make
Me true.

LAVERCAM.
How can you love us both?

CAFFA.
With love—
In spirit as in truth—as we do God.

LAVERCAM.
But were I dead, would you not love again,
As you do now, Slessama being dead?

CAFFA.
Never! never! unless the loved was like
Slessama—as thou art!

LAVERCAM.
Then you do love me
Only as I resemble her?

CAFFA.
Just so;
For thou art more like her than she herself—
(As thou hast ever been, wilt ever be)
Being the resurrection of her form,
In all her beauty, as she looked to me,
The sacred evening that I made her mine—
Full of the glorious beauty of her youth,
As with celestial meekness when she died.
The Autumn of her Summer life suffused
With all the flowery graces of her Spring.

LAVERCAM.
Is this the way that you win woman's love,
By praising other women?

CAFFA.
Thus I win
The good, who are not jealous of the good,
But love to be compared with them.

LAVERCAM.
Most true;
But this is seldom so.

CAFFA.
But is so now,
Else I had never loved; nor do I care
If it should never be again, for this
Is always unto me—the true Nunc stans
Of God's Eternity in Time; for all
The Past, the Future, are comprised in this
One moment of eternal time—of love—
For I shall never love again.

LAVERCAM.
So you
Did promise your Slessama when you wed—
As on the day she died.

CAFFA.
I did, indeed,
And what I promised her I will perform;
My love for you being but my love for her.
This I can no more help than I can die
Against God's will—when living is that will.
Oh! God! now thou dost smile? It is her smile.
Now thou dost look! It is her look! all Heaven!
For the calm meekness of thy Dove-like eyes,
Is hers—thy form—thy features—all are hers!
Oh! God! thy beauty takes me back in joy
Through eighteen weary years of mortal life—
As on the Morning's wings soared Noah's Dove—
Through the Dark Portals of the day she died,
Into the sunny chambers of the Spring—
The Day I made her mine. Thou art my wife,
Fresh resurrected from the grave—reborn
Again from Death, living another life
On earth, proving the Soul can never die!

LAVERCAM.
Nay, thou art rapt.

CAFFA.
Entranced by thy sweet face—
Translated in the Chariot of thy Love,
Into the Mansions of eternal joy,
Where my Slessama lives! for were she not
Now in the grave, lying among the dead—
Where I did place her with these two fair hands—
Baptizing her dead form with tears of love,
Into the newness of immortal life,
I would believe that she were standing here,
Clothed in the beauty of thy heavenly form:
The Anistasis of her former self!
For thou art so much like herself, thou art
My wife on earth, as she is now in Heaven.

LAVERCAM.
Then I accept thy love.

CAFFA.
[Kneeling.
Then lay thy hand
Upon my brow! bathe my hot forehead with
One blessing from the fountain of thy palm,
That the benediction of celestial peace
Rejuvenate my soul with all the joys
Of our immortal Paradise of Youth—
The first unclouded Morning of our love!
Oh! down of Heaven's sweet Swan! Oh! breast
Of God's celestial Dove! filling my soul
With endless peace! Oh! perfume from the Rose
Of Paradise, whereon there is no thorn!
Where my rapt soul now lies, entranced by Love,
Dreaming of my Slessama, full of Heaven!
Thou hast baptized my soul with healing balm,
As though Christ's hand, the Medicine for Death,
Had just laid on my wounded soul new life,
Restoring me as one who touched his garment's hem.
Oh! my Slessama! Lavercam! my love!
Let me sit down by thee! Kneel at thy feet,
As at the feet of Christ, where all is peace!
The Temple where my soul must worship now!
The Ladder by which I must climb to God—
The one foot resting on my bosom here—
The other leaning against the white doors of Heaven!
For eighteen years I have not seen one hour
Like this—never since my Slessama died!

LAVERCAM.
Thus God rewards the faithful heart.

CAFFA.
He does.
Then you approve my love?

LAVERCAM.
I do—for it
Is pure—pure as the love Slessama bears
For you in Heaven—or Lavercam on earth.

CAFFA.
Then do—for I deserve such love—thy love,
As my Slessama's love in Heaven—who knows
I have been true to her as Christ to God!

LAVERCAM.
Slessama knows it—so does Lavercam.
But I must go. Farewell!

CAFFA.
Oh! do not go!
Leave me not here alone! I have been left
These eighteen weary years here on this earth,
And this is long enough for one poor soul
To pay rich penance to the greedy grave—
Filling the coffers up of avaricious Death!
Oh! when you laid your hand upon my brow,
It seemed a flock of milk-white Cygnets swam
Circling through my brain, singing of Heaven!
Then do not go, but stay here by my side,
That I may feast my soul on thy sweet face,
As Mary did on Christ, my grave-born wife!
For oh! when thou art absent from my sight,
I feel like Earth does when the Day is dead,
Buried in darkness! Thou art my soul's Spring!
A golden Summer, full of all things rich!
When thou art absent, Winter is my Spring!
Then stay with me! leave me not here alone!
Where I have been an Exile these long years,
As Adam was in banishment—but stay
And give me Eden—give me Paradise!
For where you are is Heaven; are not—dark Hell!

LAVERCAM.
But, then, what will Daidra do!

CAFFA.
Ah! true!
What can she do? Then you may go. Take care
Of her—for she does need your care. Farewell.

LAVERCAM.
Thou art the Incarnation of God's love—
Standing amid these Angels of the groves,
Whose outstretched wings now shadow thee above,
Making a green Pavilion for thy head—
Like some great House of God towering aloft,
Afar off in the infinite Fields of Heaven,
Embosomed by the pathetic Sisterhood
Of Choirs of Cherubimical Willows, round
Whose holiness they weep eternal shade.

CAFFA.
And thou the Guardian Angel of the place!

[Exeunt severally.
Enter Lucifer and Caffa.
LUCIFER.
You speak the truth in saying I am wise.
The seed of knowledge cometh from above,
And I would sow it in thy soul. Come, come,—
Give me thy hand.

CAFFA.
First, tell me who thou art.

LUCIFER.
I am the king of that which thou wouldst be.
We grow angelic as we grow more wise.
But hark! I hear the rush of angels' wings!
To show you what I am,—see! there he comes!
The smiles of God descending on his wings!

CAFFA.
Upon a chariot of thick clouds he comes!
See how his countenance doth make them glow!
It is my Guardian Angel! God of Heaven!
I thank thee! Let us bow before him now!

LUCIFER.
Fool! fool!
Stand up, erect, in attitude divine!
And show thy soul as proud as mine! Arise!
Bend not thy knees upon the earth! This is
Not wisdom, 'tis abasement! Rise again!
Wisdom is lofty, noble! Let thine eyes
Look heaven full in the face, not on the earth!
This is the dwelling-place of beasts, not man!
His soul was made to walk the stars! Arise!
Thou art too noble to be thus abased!
I would not bow to anything on earth
Less than the God who made me! not to one
Mine equal! No, arise! give me thy hand!

CAFFA.
No, let me kneel! his heavenly beauty bows
Me to the earth! Bid me not rise again
Till he is gone.

LUCIFER.
He is thine equal, rise!

CAFFA.
No, Angels are above us men.

LUCIFER.
Is not
Thy soul immortal? What can his be more
Than that? Behold! he beckons thee to come!

CAFFA.
Oh! God have mercy on me! let me live!
It is the Angel of the Lord! Behold!
He holds a Scroll within his hand!

LUCIFER.
'Tis thine!

[Celestial music heard in Heaven. The Angel drops the Scroll. Caffa picks it up.
CAFFA.
Behold! he fades in Heaven! Now he is gone!

LUCIFER
(Looking over his shoulder).
Did I not tell thee to arise? Hadst thou
Continued on the earth, the Scroll had come
To me! (Aside.)
Would it were so!—
(Aloud.)
Now kneel no more!
What is there on it?

CAFFA.
Wisdom—from on high.

LUCIFER
(Aside).
I knew he was Heaven's favorite before! For this,
I would destroy his soul!— (Aloud.)
Give me the Scroll.

CAFFA.
Not for this world.

LUCIFER.
Why not?

CAFFA.
Because I am
Forbidden thus to do.

LUCIFER.
Does it say so?

CAFFA.
It says as much. If thou art wise, then hold
Thy peace,—I know thy name.

LUCIFER.
Does it say so?
Then I am baffled by the Power of Heaven!
Now, Hell! will I put forth my utmost power!
What shall I give thee for the scroll?

CAFFA.
You have
Nothing to give. Once thou wert rich; but now
Most poor! Once thou wert king above the host
Of Heaven; now, thou art Tyrant over those
In Hell! I know thee who thou art!

LUCIFER.
By Heaven!
You swore to be my friend!

CAFFA.
I knew thee not.

LUCIFER.
Art thou a liar, thus to treat me so?

CAFFA.
No, but thou art!

LUCIFER.
Nay, this is not the way
To show our wisdom. Give the Scroll to me,
And I will teach thee wisdom never taught
On earth. I will unfold to thee the laws
Of nature,—all the mysteries of the stars—
And solve the dark Ænigma of the grave!

CAFFA.
Not if you had the power to do all you
Have said,—which you have not! Not if you had
The stars, which you have not,—nor ever had,—
Nor ever will have! Not for all the wealth
You had in Heaven,—which you will never have
Again! It was an Angel's gift! It is
A Talisman against thine arts!

LUCIFER.
Proud man!
I love to see thee so. That cannot be
A Talisman against mine arts, which is
Thus known to me. I was but trying thee.
I know each word upon that Scroll. Ha! ha! ha!

CAFFA.
And so do I, now I have looked on it.

LUCIFER.
But I have never looked on it; yet I
Do know each word on it.

CAFFA.
In that, you are
No wiser than I am. Before I got the Scroll,
You knew what Man you were, which I did not;
But now I know thee well. This makes me proof
Against thine arts.

LUCIFER.
Why do you talk of art?
Wisdom is art. You said you would be wise;
Therefore, seek wisdom.

CAFFA.
Wise in nought but good.

LUCIFER.
All wisdom is of good.

CAFFA.
That is thine art.

LUCIFER.
Why do you love all wisdom then? You said,
But now, you would know all that could be known
In earth or Heaven.

CAFFA.
That which would make me good,
As well as wise.

LUCIFER.
The Scroll can teach thee naught
But what I know.

CAFFA.
I know not that. I know
It was an Angel's gift.

LUCIFER.
I know that well;
But what is he to me? Not even so much
As was the smallest under me in Heaven,—
Not half so near mine equal as thyself.

CAFFA.
The Angel tells me thou art proud,—nay, more—
A flatterer.

LUCIFER.
Why should I flatter thee, who art
Now sworn to be my friend?

CAFFA.
Only so far
As thou art worthy to be called my friend.

LUCIFER.
Wisdom is worth. The least of what I know
Is greater than the wisest angel in
God's Heaven.

CAFFA.
What thou wert once, is not what thou
Art now.

LUCIFER.
When thou hast heard, thou wilt believe,
And dash away the Scroll. Farewell!

CAFFA.
Farewell!

[Exeunt severally.
Enter Chorus of Fallen Angels, who chant the following Salutation.
Chant of Fallen Angels.
Welcome, welcome, great Lightbringer!
Rapturous theme of every Singer!
Teacher of the great Evangels,
Taught in Heaven by God's Archangels!
Richest of the Heirs of Glory!
Most renowned in ancient story!
Rapturous theme of every Singer!
Welcome, welcome, great Lightbringer!

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE III.

Another part of the Grove. Enter Naisa and Lavercam in conversation.
LAVERCAM.
But in the lustrous glances of her eyes,
There is an artless innocence of love,
Whose irresistible Art outcharms all
Studied ingenuity of artfulness;
Taking the soul all captive in its arms,
Binding in golden chains, that never gall,
The willing captive. But her deep blue eyes,
They follow not the steps of men—for where
She ought to go, she looks, but nowhere else.
Her cheeks are roses dyed in hues of health;
Not shame. Her face is milder than the Moon,
But radiant as the cloudless Sun at noon—
Through which the white snow of her soul is seen,
Clothing her form with saintly tenderness.
Her voice is softer than the Dorian Flute,
Heard at the midnight when all else is still,
And all the Heavens above are full of stars.

NAISA.
Has she been baptized?

LAVERCAM.
Baptized.

NAISA.
Who was
Her God-father?

LAVERCAM.
God.

NAISA.
Who baptized her?

LAVERCAM.
Christ.

NAISA.
Then she is safe; there is no danger now—
Being above all loss.

LAVERCAM.
Above all law.
Being above law, she is freed from sin;
Freed thus from sin, above the power of Death;
Therefore, immortal—for how can Heaven die?

NAISA.
I love Heaven loving her.

LAVERCAM.
A Christian true.
Her virtues, growing with her years, have borne
Upon her bosom every heavenly grace—
The rose-bud of her beauty having blown
Into the perfect Rose of womanhood;
So that the Casket which enshrines her soul,
Is not inferior to the soul itself;
But, like the purest gems, betrays its worth
By the rich light that it reveals—the Stars
In Heaven not differing from each other more,
In true glory, than she from all her sex.
For, as some crystal Vase reveals, at once,
The priceless treasure it contains, so does
Her peerless form the saintly soul it hides.

NAISA.
Oh! heavenly Sweetness! Charming Charm! She's so
Entirely rich in every perfect grace,
God must have emptied Heaven of all His best
To make this bright Original—wherein all
The world might seek for something rich for each.

LAVERCAM.
But more, to climax these, she has the wit
That graces Grace; so mild in every mood,
In Summer she seems Spring—as if the Dove
Of Womanhood lived in the Halcyon Nest
Of Youth, new-born.

NAISA.
Star of my love! shine on!
Thus does God build her up, from day today,
To be the admiration of the world—
From her Cherubic Childhood to the heights
Of her Angelic Womanhood—a sight
More beautiful than Pyramids of Pearl,
Higher than Babel; so much does the soul
Of virtuous grace transcend all earthly things.

LAVERCAM.
The Crown she wears is garnished not with pearls,
Or Diamonds, dug from out the mines of earth,
But Jewels gathered from the Isles of Heaven—
Those fadeless lustres of immortal life
Found only on the sunny shores of God.
A single sprig plucked from the Tree of Life,
She values more than Forests of Green Bay.
Thus do the noble deeds of virtuous grace
Transcend all earthly jewels worn in crowns—
Crowning the bright possessor Heaven's own Queen.
Her condescension to her inferiors
Is not meanness, but familiar charity—
Just like Christ's coming down from Heaven to earth;
For when she sells herself for nothing to do good,
The price she asks is far too high for earth;
So, she remains unsold—except to Heaven;
For when she seeks the Valley with the low,
She still stays on the Hilltop with the rich—
But needs no titulars now to blazon her,
Any more than the Evening Star does light
To make it shine more bright—already full—
Drinking forever out of the crystalline Wells
Of God, the light by which it is relumed;
So does she from the life of God her life.

NAISA.
To speak of one divine, both need the like
Historian—as you now prove yourself to be.
The Trumpet that you blow is made of gold.

LAVERCAM.
My breath is not divine enough to speak
Her heavenly praise.

NAISA.
Indeed she seems to be
A matchless Theme—transcending human tongues.

LAVERCAM.
She is her own fair Theatre, where none
But Angels sit as Auditors of her Acts;
And, seeing, stay there to applaud—her whole
Life being but one continual Play
Of Piety!

NAISA.
Indeed you speak her well.

LAVERCAM.
Her merits, far above my Gothic Pen,
Let Angels' quills pronounce; for none but Heaven,
With those from Cherub's wings, can write her praise.
It were a sin for me to try to add
New lustre to her Diadem—as well
Attempt to give new lustre to the stars,
Already bursting with the plenitudes
Of Heaven.

NAISA.
Now do I see her matchless worth.

LAVERCAM.
Her name is written in the Book of Life,
Beauty may fade—Honor's Green Bays lie withered—
But true godliness is an undeciduous tree,
Whose roots are anchored in the Heart of God—
Out of whose emerald leaves the Angels weave
Garlands of Glory for the Just in Heaven.
There is no Evening to her Morn—her life
Being like the Angels', subject no to time—
Division dying in Eternity.

NAISA.
Where shall I meet her?

LAVERCAM.
In the Bower of Bards,
Beside the brook that feeds the Lake of Swans.
Farewell!

NAISA.
Farewell! I shall be there anon.

[Exit.
Enter Conor.
CONOR.
Come hither, Lavercam. What is the news?

LAVERCAM.
That question had been better asked by me,
As there is nothing new under the sun.

CONOR.
How fares Daidra?

LAVERCAM.
She is well, great king.
The same old news, as she is always well.

CONOR.
Old things become new when spoken of her;
For the sweetest news that was ever told
Is the ancient news that can never grow old.

LAVERCAM.
The Beautiful remains forever new.

CONOR.
What does she study now? Does she still play,
As she was won't to do in days gone by?

LAVERCAM.
She does, great king—excelling all the queens
That ever reigned in Ullad, or the world.

CONOR.
You shall be rich as any queen for this—
Sitting as near my throne as she my heart.

LAVERCAM.
I thank your Highness gratefully. She is
The fairest flower that ever bloomed on earth.

CONOR.
Was ever man so fortunate as I am now—
Having so fine a Poetess for her nurse?
Have you composed her any songs of late?

LAVERCAM.
I have, great Sovereign, several—which she sings
Most admirably. Angel never lived
In Heaven more like this Angel here on earth.

CONOR.
You use an Angel's tongue in saying so.
Teach her to emulate herself—for on
The night my Nobles come to sup with me,
In the great Banqueting Hall of Eman here,
I want her here to sing for us.

LAVERCAM.
She shall—
To crown the entertainment with new songs;
Most admirably will she acquit herself—
Showing herself thy queen as well as bride.

CONOR.
This is the joy that I have longed to see.
But think not you shall be forgotten here—
No, by my soul! that day shall never come;
But everything that can be, shall be done,
To recompense you for your love.

LAVERCAM.
The joy
Of loving her, is recompense enough;
Although I thank you for your many gifts.

CONOR.
This I do know from things already past—
Having survived the hot, refining fires
Of eighteen tedious years, proving thyself
Of purest gold.

LAVERCAM.
Your praise tastes sweet as dew
To the parched traveller in his hour of thirst—
Making my old soul young again.

CONOR.
Indeed,
You are a good old child; but, then, the soul
Never grows old; but ever young, is still
The same in old age as in youth—a child.

LAVERCAM.
I feel now on my heart of hearts that what
You say of my old childish soul, is true.
Being a child, why may not I be made
King Conor's heir?

CONOR.
Indeed you shall be so.
She is the Oil of Mercy to my heart—
A dreamless rest of repose for my soul!
That heavenly tree whose branches reach above
The stars, bearing ambrosial fruit, whereon
The milk-white doves of Heaven do build their nests,
Cooing celestial music for my soul.

LAVERCAM.
May Heaven's sweet dews rest ever on its leaves,
Enriching her pure soil, while other lands
Are dry.

CONOR.
As there is but one Sun in Heaven,
So there is one Daidra here on earth.
Her words are like the honey of fresh flowers,
That has no bitter in it—goldenly pure—
Nourishing as sweet.

LAVERCAM.
Indeed, she has no peer.

CONOR.
Oh! when she speaks, it is above all songs:
But when she sings, she brings down Heaven on earth;
But when she ceases song, or speech, she leaves
A silence in the world deeper than Love
Or Death! You know she owes her life to me.
When Feidlim's, son of Delas, wife lay in
With her, Caffa, the Druid, prophesied
That she would bring destruction on the land—
Calling her name Daidra, which doth mean
Alarm—that Morning Star of heavenly love,
Whose rising brings monition to the world.
But I said, “No, she shall not die, but live,
And, after she is grown, shall be my wife.”
Which will be now but in a few short days.
Poor fools! they did not know that I had power
To prophesy as well as they. For she
Has been here eighteen glorious summers, yet
Has brought no sorrow on the land. Had she
Been slain, my present joy will show how much
My sorrow would have been. Be kind to her,
And I will raise you from your present low
Estate of nurse, into that loftier one
Of Foster-mother to the Queen.

LAVERCAM.
For which
I never shall forget to give you thanks.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

The Bower of Bards, on the border of a beautiful lake near Eman. Enter Naisa with his harp in his hand.
NAISA.
[Naisa sings to his harp.
SONG.

Enter Daidra.
Beautiful is the dame that passes by.

DAIDRA.
But what good does beauty do, when there are
No youths to woo?

NAISA.
Such beauty as thine is,
Methinks, should raise up wooers from the dead.

DAIDRA.
Why not inspire the living then?

NAISA.
Because
It breathes but only for the dead.

DAIDRA.
Why so?
I took you for rare flesh and blood. Then why?

NAISA.
Does not the King of Ulster call you his?

DAIDRA.
Would it were so—then I were Queen indeed.

NAISA.
Then why thus talk to me?

DAIDRA.
Art thou not King?

NAISA.
Who told you so?

DAIDRA.
My eyes—my heart—my soul;
All tell me thou art King.

NAISA.
You have been taught
This thing! Sons of a King we are, indeed,
Of Usna's line—by Conor's power usurped.

DAIDRA.
Vile, perfidious wretch!

NAISA.
Mark how you talk!
I hear you are to be his wife?

DAIDRA.
His wife!
Never to be.

NAISA.
But he will make you his.

DAIDRA.
If you permit him, he may do me so;
But not unless you do; which, if you do,
I care not whose I am.

NAISA.
Whose would you be?

DAIDRA.
Have I not said? You know I have—but yours—
And only yours!

NAISA.
But how can you be mine—
Betrothed to him?

DAIDRA.
Betrothed is not to be,
But only in suspense.

NAISA.
But he will make
You his.

DAIDRA.
Not if my choice will make me not.

NAISA.
But how can this be done?

DAIDRA.
That lives with you.

NAISA.
But here, in Eman, it were death to both!

DAIDRA.
But there are other lands as fair—more fair
To me, wert thou but there, I here.

NAISA.
Then thou
Wouldst fly with me?

DAIDRA.
I would—like Noah's Dove
Sent on the wings of Morning to the Sun—
Fly with thee to the uttermost parts of earth!

NAISA.
But I have apprehensions for thy sake.

DAIDRA.
Is it to avoid me that you put me off?

NAISA.
Would any one refuse to enter Heaven,
Were the gates unlocked?

DAIDRA.
One unworthy might.

NAISA.
Would any soul, worthy or not, refuse
To fly from Hell, when he could enter Heaven?

DAIDRA.
One who had “apprehensions” might. True love
Deals not in “apprehensions.” But, perhaps,
I do not understand what you may mean
By leaving Hell for Heaven.

NAISA.
Why, living here
One day without thy heavenly love.

DAIDRA.
Then you
Are not in Hell, but safe in Heaven; for you
Can never live without my love. As well
Might yonder Moon above pretend to shine
Outside of the Eternity of God,
As you from the far-reachings of my love!
[She hits him with an apple.
There, now, take that as sample of my love!
A stroke now of disgrace throughout the world,
If you do take me not!

NAISA.
Depart from me!
For if you tarry, you will bring disgrace
Upon us both!

DAIDRA.
I will not go away,
But try your heart with one of my sweet songs.
Give me your harp.
[She takes the harp.
Now listen to my soul!
[She plays on the harp, accompanying it with her voice.
SONG.

NAISA.
SONG.

DAIDRA.
My husband in perspective.

NAISA.
Truly so—
Fruition's Rose born in the bud of hope.
Thus do I place upon your brow the crown
Of my most fervent love!

DAIDRA.
Ay, such a crown
As any Angel might be proud to wear.

NAISA.
An Angel does wear it.

DAIDRA.
You talk as though
A star had just been born in Heaven—your voice,
The music of its singing.

NAISA.
Our talk should
Be starry when we talk of stars. You look
Like Venus when she rose up from the Sea!

DAIDRA.
Wearing the Crown of God's dear love, you lift
Me far above all stars in saying so.

NAISA.
She needs no lifting who resides in Heaven.
Your presence makes this world like Eden was
Before the fall—an everlasting spring!

Enter Ainli and Ardan.
AINLI.
What heavenly songs were those? What have we here?
Who played upon that harp?

NAISA.
The Queen of Song,
Of Beauty, Love, and Heaven!

AINLI.
What is her name?

NAISA.
Daidra is her name.

AINLI.
What! Conor's wife?
Naisa! what are you about? Do you
Not know that Caffa prophesied that she
Would bring destruction on this land?

NAISA.
He lied!
The Beautiful, the Good, the True can bring
Only the Beautiful, the Good, the True.
But were it so, has she not flung at me
That which will bring disgrace upon us all,
If I receive her not?

AINLI.
Then, if you do,
Evil will come of it! Now mark my words.

NAISA.
But we can fly with her where Conor ne'er can come.

AINLI.
Then let us fly; for if you take
Her not, you cannot live with her—but die!

NAISA.
Then let us go to Alba where we can;
For there is not a single soldier there,
Who would not join us joyfully—besides,
The Alban King hates Conor as he does
The Devil!

AINLI.
Then let us depart in haste
With three times fifty men of might—the same
Number of women; three times fifty hounds;
And our attendants three times fifty more.

ABDAN.
They say that he is wise in many things.
Having studied Magic.

NAISA.
The Devil's lore.
His presence, like some star of Night, whose rays
Are outer darkness—black as that which wombed
The universe before the world was made—
Whose shadow, down the abysmal depths of space,
Sheds mildew on the souls of men—brings death
To all our House!

AINLI.
He loves nobody but
Himself—his only maker being Power.

ARDAN.
They say he sees Visions.

NAISA.
Spectres of the dead!
Wandering ghosts of our departed Sires
Buried in prime of life to make him King—
Coming to torture him with sight of Hell,
Before his hastening death!

AINLI.
For just as he
Planned theirs, so will he work our early death!
I see him in my mind's eye, now, at home,
Planning our sudden fall!

ARDAN.
I doubt it not;
He is a Upas tree that poisons all
The birds that chance to light upon his boughs!

Enter Caffa.
CAFFA.
I come to make Daidra now your wife.
I place this Bridal-Chaplet on her brow—
[Placing it on her brow.
(Richer never adorned the brow of queen)
Making her Marriage Morning one long life
Of nuptial joy—chief lustre of her love—
Blossoms of that supernal Diadem,
Celestial virtue, which adorns her soul.
These plumes, plucked from the radiant wings of Birds
Of Paradise, enrich the spotless brow
Of this fair household Dove. This I must speak,
To give exalted virtue her own due.
The bashful, recluse life she loves to live,—
Blooming unseen, save by the one she loves—
(To whom she does express her heavenly sweets)
Better than popular courts of empty power,
Or noisy flattery. Her whole delights
Live in the circle of his embraces here.
Now, in the Name of God, who dwells in Heaven,
(Who is the Female married to the Male.)
I make divine At-one-ment of you two.
[Joining their hands.
Like a great Reaper of the golden sheaves,
Go, like a god, into the Folds of Men,
Gathering rich Harvests of their heavenly love.

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE V.

Conor's Private Apartment in the Palace of Eman. Enter Gannan to Conor.
CONOR.
What now? how is Daidra?

GANNAN.
She is fled,
Great Sovereign,—gone with Usna's Sons!

CONOR.
Gone with Usna's Sons? Gone where?

GANNAN.
God knows,
Great Sovereign! for I cannot tell!

CONOR.
How know
You she is gone then?

GANNAN.
Because she is not here,
Great Sovereign!

CONOR.
Then your head shall pay for this!
I put her in your care,—commanded you
To take good care of her; now you inform me
She is gone. Call Lavercam! Search all the house!
Search every corner in the mansion, till
You find her out; or, by God's Heavens! your blood
Shall flow for it! Out of my sight! nor ever let
Me see your face, until you bring her back!
Call Lavercam! tell her to come to me!
Send out the guard—from Esro all around
To Binedar! Away!

GANNAN.
I will, great King.
[Exit.
Enter Lavercam.
Well, Lavercam! what hellish news is this?
When did Daidra go?

LAVERCAM.
Last night, I think—
About the midnight hour; but did not miss her
Until this morning.

CONOR.
But why did she go?

LAVERCAM.
As well may you inquire why birds migrate
From North to South in Winter time, or mate
In Spring.

CONOR.
Who stole her off?

LAVERCAM.
Her mate, no doubt,
Naisa, who must love her as his life,—
For none but love would run so great a risk.

CONOR.
How did he enter where she was? You were
Commanded not to let any one see
Her face.

LAVERCAM.
Nor did lie ever see her face
In any room within this house.

CONOR.
How did
He see her then?

LAVERCAM.
They must have met by stealth
Upon the Plain.

CONOR.
But how could they have met,
She knowing nothing of such man?

LAVERCAM.
That is
Far more than I can tell. You cannot shut
Love out. Though blind, yet he can see farther
Than any mortal with ten thousand eyes,—
All Cherub-like, around, above, beneath.

CONOR.
Where think you she is gone?

LAVERCAM.
Where could they go,
But into Scotland?

CONOR.
Surely nowhere else.
Perfidious wretch! There will I, also, go,
And bring her back, or lose my life there else!

LAVERCAM.
Be not too rash. Reflect before you act.
You know that Scotland's King is Conor's foe.

CONOR.
How shall I win them back? Now let me see.
I have it now. Leave me alone. I am
In trouble far beyond all words to tell.
[Exit Lavercam.
Now will I use the cunning of my soul.—
All the vile schemes of infinite treachery,—
To the damning of my soul forever more,—
But to revenge myself on that damned fiend!
By my Eternal God! I will not sleep,
Either by night or day, until I find
Sure means to wreak swift vengeance on his soul!
Now, then, to seek my Nobles,—there to learn
Who is my friend or foe. Now, Hell! rejoice.

Enter Caffa.
CAFFA.
You say you wish to be a Proselyte?

CONOR.
I do—for, ever since poor Ethnea died,
I have been weary of the world! I want
Some burial-place for my dead child of Hope—
My Bird of Paradise, which once took Heaven
By storms of Happiness—singing aloft!
Some solid ground above the waves of this
Deep sea, where my lone Dove can rest her wings—
Anchoring her feet from her long, tiresome flight!
Some place where I can lie down with my soul,
And be at peace!

CAFFA.
That Resting-place is Heaven!
Religion has the only Key that can
Unlock the Gates of Paradise, where you
Can find what you now seek—eternal joy.

CONOR.
Then I would follow her to that sweet Place.

CAFFA.
There you will find the heavenly Joy you seek,
Guarded by million Cherubim of Light.
You see yon evergreen Mistletoe bough,
Making eternal Paradise up there?
Such are the joys Religion brings the soul.
I now will cut it with this golden-knife.
You see it is an Emblem of God's love—
Perennial as the joy it emulates—
As changeless as the Heaven's eternal love—
Wearing its Spring in Winter as in Spring.
So will Man flourish in eternal youth,
If he be true to God—true to himself;
If not, he will decay like flowers in Fall—
Casting his hopes away upon the world,
Like leaves from some deciduous tree, to rot—
Never to flourish in his soul again!
With this all man's diseases can be cured;
Hence it is called, The Healer of us All.

CONOR.
Would I had known this when my wife was ill.

CAFFA.
But you were ignorant then—dead in your sins;
Now, you are wakened from the death of life,
To circle in the likeness of God's love,
As Stars do, drinking sunshine from the Sun.

CONOR.
They say that you can raise the dead to life?

CAFFA.
They who report this thing of me, speak truth.

CONOR.
Some men need Miracles for their belief—
Their souls' conviction needing works, not words.
Now, such a man am I. I have no faith
In anything that man can say, unless
He prove it by some mighty work, proportioned
To the magnitude of the truth he teaches.
To touch my heart, my eyes must be convinced.
Reaching my heart, depends on something more
Than hearing—feeling being the naked truth.
Hence my skepticism on Religious points.
Now, could mine eyes bear witness to this thing—
Vouchsafing to my soul the truth my soul
Desires the most to know—how gladly would
I trumpet to the world that the dead live
Again. How long since your Slessama died?

CAFFA.
Just eighteen years.

CONOR.
Yet, you affirm that you
Have seen her often since?

CAFFA.
Often since she
Departed life—five hundred times at least.

CONOR.
How looked she when she died?

CAFFA.
Angelic! even
In death she looked more beautiful than life;
So, while she slumbered on this breast of love,
She breathed her soul out in the arms of Heaven!

CONOR.
At what time did she die?

CAFFA.
At three o'clock
In the morning.

CONOR.
Beautiful time to die.

CAFFA.
Her eyes were of that neutral violet tint,
Whose soft, serenity of saintly glow
Lay in the shadows of her moonlike brow,
Like Heaven at twilight, under some clear lake
Born of the crystal of the Eternal Wells.
She tranced my spirit as the sky is tranced
When some new singing Star is born in Heaven.
Down from the Alpine peaks of her white youth,
She came, crowned with the snows of innocence,
White as the bays the Angels wear in Heaven.

CONOR.
Was it by your own will, or hers, she came?

CAFFA.
Partly by mine—partly by hers—her love
For me, as mine for her, inspiring us
To reunite again on earth.

CONOR.
Does she
Respond always, by coming, to that will?

CAFFA.
Always—her coming being the consequence
Of that eternal love which causes her
To come.

CONOR.
Could you not will that same strong will
To bring her here before us now?

CAFFA.
I can.

CONOR.
So that mine eyes can see her, as it did
When she was living in the flesh?

CAFFA.
I can—
Precisely as they did when you beheld
Her first standing beside me as my bride.

CONOR.
Then, by my soul! if you will do this thing,
I will believe not only that the soul
Can live again, but be your Proselyte,
In deeds of holiest righteousness, for life.
Now call her up!

CAFFA.
This I can never do
For any man until his eyes are couched;
For an unclouded eye alone can see,
The soul of heavenly love transfigured here
On earth, as it is glorified in Heaven.

CONOR.
Then couch my eyes.

CAFFA.
This you must do yourself
By deeds of heavenly love. This opens them
To see not only all the beautiful things
Of earth, but all the wonderful things of Heaven.

CONOR.
But what are deeds of heavenly love?

CAFFA.
Such deeds
Of holiness as have no hell in them;
The incarnation of the will of God
In active wisdom of celestial use—
The sweet melodious harmony of love.

CONOR.
Then I can never see you raise the dead,
If I must wait perfection in this life;
For what I cannot understand to do,
Can never give me eyes to see it done.

CAFFA.
Wisdom is light; by drinking in this light,
The soul is purified to see what was
Invisible before for want of it;
The only fruit of that celestial Tree
Can save the hungry soul from perishing.

CONOR.
Give me this Angels' food—this Bread of Heaven.
Methinks you feed me only on the leaves.

CAFFA.
One nourishes the soul—the other heals.

CONOR.
Then rub some in mine eyes, that I may see
The dead come back to life again. If not
Slessama, raise my Ethnea from the grave.
Let me but see her once before I die,
And I will know the soul can live again
After the body's death—that we shall see
Each other in the world beyond the grave—
And I will sacrifice all hopes in time
For the attainment of that glorious end.
Will you not raise her up?

CAFFA.
Were I to raise
Her up, you could not see her with blind eyes.

CONOR.
Raise her—then I will tell you whether she
Is raised or not.

CAFFA.
This I can never do,
But by the enchantment of sweet songs—
Music being the language of the skies—
The tongue by which the Angels talk to God.

CONOR.
Then sing—for God's sake sing! Raise up your wife—
Then mine—that I may know, beyond dispute,
There is no Magic in the web of it.

[Caffa performs enchantment, during which the atmosphere all around is suffused with the most celestial odors from the opening roses of Angels' Songs, while chanting the following
INVOCATION.

[The Spirit of Slessama, as Lavercam, arrayed in milk-white shining Angel-robes, appears at the back of the Stage, attended by celestial Spirits singing.
CONOR.
But I see nothing! All is dark as night!
Then why this ecstasy? Why all this talk?
Is Caffa mad?

CAFFA.
Mad with divine delight!
Look at Slessama there, standing before
Your eyes, shining in Angels' robes of fire!

CONOR.
I see nothing but darkness now—around—
Above—beneath!

CAFFA.
Because of the great light.
[Lavercam passes slowly out, attended by the same Spirits singing.
Heard you no songs?

CONOR.
No songs at all—no sounds,
Save your own voice.

CAFFA.
Then are your ears most gross—
Your eyes irrevocably blind! They must
Be purged by the leaves from the Tree of Life.

CONOR.
Now do I know you cannot raise the dead.

CAFFA.
Did I not say you could not see the souls
Of the departed with blind eyes?

CONOR.
Blind eyes!
I am not blind. My eyes are good as yours.
I see. It is not that my eyes are blind,
But you, by playing false, would put them out.
You throw the dust of too much light in them.

CAFFA.
Pure diamond-dust ground off by Heaven's own wheels
Gyrating in the eternal clock, whose bell
Of gold will soon be heard tolling thy death,
With blindfold swing, to all the living stars!

CONOR.
But try again—raise up my Ethnea now.

CAFFA.
Would you behold her face just as she died?

CONOR.
No parley now—but raise her from the grave!
I want none of your darkness, but pure light.
If you do fail this time, the thing is sure,
That none of God's High Priests can raise the dead;
Not only so, but that the dead live not.
If you will raise her now, I will believe you yet.
If not, then never mention Heaven again;
For I will not believe in Heaven or Hell!

CAFFA.
Now, then, prepare thy soul to look on her!

CONOR.
I am prepared. Now raise her up.

CAFFA.
[Caffa performs incantation, chanting the following
INVOCATION.
[The Spirit of Ethnea appears at the back of the Stage, arrayed in bloody robes. Celestial music heard in Heaven.

CONOR.
[On his knees.
The Lord have mercy on my soul!

CAFFA.
Ah, ha!
Do the dead live again? Are you convinced?
Why all this ecstasy? Why all this talk?
Is she not something more than night? Look up!
Hide not thine eyes, but look upon her face.
Methinks the darkness is too great for thee!
Thine eyes are out! thou art struck blind by Truth,
Like poor Elymas for impiety!
Methinks I hear the azure Bell of Heaven,
Whose clapper is the Sun, tolling thy death,
With blindfold swing, to all the Stars in Hell!
Art thou converted now? But hark! she speaks!

SPIRIT OF ETHNEA.
Conor! prepare to meet thy God!

[Vanishes.
CONOR.
Away!
The vision of thy loveliness has struck
Me blind forever!

CAFFA.
Now, then, she is gone!

CONOR.
What! gone? Oh! call her back! Do call her back!
Let me but gaze upon her face once more!

CAFFA.
Why not do so when she was here? Why put
Your hands over your eyes, if you did wish
To see her face? No, you did not—nor will
I ever call her back again.

CONOR.
No more?

CAFFA.
No more forever more.

CONOR.
Oh! God! Oh! God!
Then I shall never see her more!

CAFFA.
You will.

CONOR.
Again? But when?

CAFFA.
At the LAST DAY!

CONOR.
Oh! God!
May that Day never come!

CAFFA.
It will. I hear
The Clock of Eternity tolling now
Thy midnight hour of Doom! The Dawn is nigh,
Which ushers in the Everlasting Day!
Night is this life; Day is the life to come!
Remember what thy wife has said; she lives
And loves thee still—for love survives the grave;
This thou hast seen with thine own mortal eyes—
“Prepare to meet thy God!”—Farewell!

[Exit.
CONOR.
Farewell!
She warned me in that visionary undertone
Of sad soprano, saints do when they speak
Of their own graves—something between pure speech
And solemn whispers—such as good men use
When speaking of the dead! Thus spoke she low—
Laying her hand upon her sad heart—thus—
Sobbing the while she spoke—a wintry fear
Raging, like wildfire, through my heart of hearts!
“Prepare to meet thy God!”—I will. Farewell!

[Exit.
Curtain Falls.

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.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

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

KING.
What news?

EOGAN MOR.
We have just captured that rare queen—
Naisa's wife.

KING.
Naisa's wife?

EOGAN MOR.
His wife.
[Aside.
Now will I take revenge upon them all!

KING.
How was it done? In battle?

EOGAN MOR.
No—at sea.

KING.
At sea?

EOGAN MOR.
At sea—far out upon the waves.
It seems she had grown jealous of her lord,
For kissing your own daughter, so she says.

KING.
My daughter?

EOGAN MOR.
Your Darthula, so she says;
And so had started back for Erin's Isle.

KING.
My daughter, did she say?

EOGAN MOR.
Thine own fair child.

KING.
Why jealous of my daughter? Bring her forth.
But stay; relate to me the circumstance.

EOGAN MOR.
It seems she had grown jealous of her lord,
And, growing weary of her outdoor life,
Had started back for Erin's eastern shore—
Perhaps to soothe King Conor with her charms;
So, when she rowed out far upon the waves,
She looked like Thetis, in her Nautilus Shell,
Going to marry Peleus in her Halls
Of Pearl—the Tritons, with their trumps marine—
Heralds of her felicity—blowing so loud,
Old Neptune, in his chariot of pure gold,
Reined in his great Sea-Horses, where he paused,
Listening, entranced, to their immortal strains
Poured forth in salutation to their queen;
While Nereus rode upon his spouting whales,
Driving his Ships of Dolphins on to join
Old Proteus herding his Sea-Bulls, until
They came where Doris with her daughters stood
On the bare sands, solacing the sorrows of the Sea—
Making such heavenly music, that the souls
Of all who heard were ravished with the bliss of Heaven.
Like an Egyptian Pharos, seen far out
At sea, translucent all along the coast
Of Alexandria, towered she to our eyes,
Sailing along, soothing the troubled waves
To quiet with her beauty, as she went.

KING.
Then bring her forth to me.

EOGAN MOR.
I will, great King.

[Exit.
KING.
So she is caught at last. Being so full
Of jealousy, can I not win her now
With ease? She shall be mine. But here she comes.
Re-enter Eogan Mor, bringing in Daidra.
Come, my Atlanta! Apples of pure gold,
In pitchers of rich silver, shall be thine.

DAIDRA.
Would you make me a Goldfinch?

KING.
No, my love;
A Bird of Paradise, whose golden tones
Shall ravish Angels' ears with heavenly songs;
For who has gold has power, as heavenly thoughts.
Thy face is like the full-orbed Moon, seen when
There are no clouds in Heaven.

DAIDRA.
It may be fair,
But it resembles her in nothing else—
I never change.

KING.
But thou art always full—
Yet, ever new.

DAIDRA.
Yet, always old to all
Except my husband.

KING.
Ever new in love;
In beauty never old. But then the Moon
Is never full till farthest from the Sun.

DAIDRA.
Then I am not like her, for I do shine
The brightest nearest to my lord—the spring
And fountain-head of all my light.

KING.
Then you
Are not his Moon—he, therefore, not your Sun;
As you resemble her in nought but light,
And he in nothing—

DAIDRA.
More than Majesty.

KING.
Silence is golden.

DAIDRA.
Silver speech is praise
Sweeter than golden silence to the good,
Whose ear can only hear immortal songs.

KING.
Therefore so rare.

DAIDRA.
Costly as rare; therefore
Called golden.

KING.
Woman's tongue was never charmed.

DAIDRA.
Never to silence—(Sirens were not men,
But women)—only when her lord is nigh—
When golden adoration speaks his praise,
Louder than silver speech.

KING.
But still it charms.
Thou art, indeed, the Gift of God.

DAIDRA.
Unbought—
Unsold—but given away of God—to Heaven.

KING.
A perfect saint.

DAIDRA.
Married forever more;
Dead to the world, but still alive to Heaven.

KING.
Where thou wert born to live—the Heaven of Heaven.
When Jupiter wooed Danae with his shower,
It was an Emblem of his purity—
His love being like an April rain, poured out
In bounty on her.

DAIDRA.
Jupiter was false—
A God-chameleon—who took all shapes
To gain the object of his love.

KING.
Because
His love was only equalled by his will.

DAIDRA.
Kings can command gold, but not love. That which
Is not the slave of will, cannot be willed.

KING.
I, who can command gold, can give thee love
No gold can buy—two of the greatest things
On earth—Emblems of highest things in Heaven—
The City of God being built of pure gold;
Therefore, is full of love—God being love.

DAIDRA.
Having all I want, I wish no more—my want
Ending where it begins.

KING.
But I will put
A Diadem upon your brow, whose gems
Shall sparkle like the Pleiades on some
Dark night.

DAIDRA.
I cannot wear two crowns—the one
Now glorifying it, being my husband's love;
This starred with brilliants of immortal deeds—
His mind being a mine of glories.

KING.
Well,
You speak his praises well!

DAIDRA.
The good should be
Well praised—blown through a trump of virgin gold—
Touched by the Altar-coal of Heaven.

KING.
Thy lips
Are gold enough—thy breath Apollo's lute—
Sweeter than perfumes from the fairest flowers—
As Hybla bees had made thy mouth their hive—
The rosiest Rose that ever bloomed on earth—
Blowing thy praises through the world to Heaven.

DAIDRA.
You Kings have nothing else to do but love.

KING.
We know better than Plebeians how to love;
Therefore, the more deserving of the fair.
Cupid they teach to sport with Venus' Doves,
As once Adonis did in Paphian Bowers—
Feeding rich Beauty on the Bread of Heaven.
Thy voice has stolen the music of the skies—
Making melodious all my thoughts; thy tongue,
Striking the rosy bell of thy sweet mouth
Jewelled with priceless pearls, to heavenly tones,
Above all music, save the Saints in Heaven.
But what is your Naisa, my dear queen?

DAIDRA.
An evergreen—green as the eternal Spring
That paves, with joy, the flowery Fields of Heaven—
A living Paradise.

KING.
Does this green tree
Bear yellow fruit?

DAIDRA.
It is the Angels' food;
His leaves are medicine that can heal the world.

KING.
'Tis Angels' food if thou dost eat the fruit.

DAIDRA.
Would you make flowerless Winter Lord of May?

KING.
No! but sumptuous Summer husband Spring.

DAIDRA.
Why, thou art old enough to be my sire!

KING.
Yet young enough to take good care of thee.

DAIDRA.
I fear your age would cause me too much care.

KING.
I will make thee the happiest queen on earth.
Glorious as the Sun—bright as the Moon!
The Heralds of thy felicity shall be
Bright-shining Pleiades of fairest Maids;
Thy Servitors, like rich Orion's bands,
Princes of noblest blood.

DAIDRA.
But what are these
To the bright Constellations of pure thought
Which people the cloudless Heaven of my true soul,
Of which Naisa is the god? Mere nought.

KING.
What is this powerless God compared with me?

DAIDRA.
A Cedar Tree standing on Lebanon—
On whose ambrosial boughs grow that sweet fruit,
Which mortals, feeding on, shall turn to Gods—
Adding new Æons to the Angels' lives.
Give me the crystal waters of his love,
Melted from snows on the Aonian Mount,
And you may have the Ruby Springs you vaunt.
While you drink wine, he drinks from Helicon.

KING.
A Hell-I-Co-ny-an drink, no doubt.

DAIDRA.
Such waters flow out of the throne of God;
But never wine—which flows from thrones of Kings;
Therefore, the difference between you two.
As wine to water, so are you to him.

KING.
Which is the better, pray?

DAIDRA.
The wine for you—
Water for him.

KING.
Which costs the most?

DAIDRA.
The wine—
Therefore the worse. That which is really good,
Costs nothing—being above all price.

KING.
Most true—
Applied to you—but not to wine.

DAIDRA.
All things;
For what is really good, we cannot buy,
Because essential to our being; this
We give away as God does life to man—
Freely—unasked—because we love—for love
Is giving—born not of the will, but lives
Whether we will or not—just as we do.
Who loves will give, as he who gives will love.

KING.
Most true; therefore, I give myself to thee.

DAIDRA.
For whom I cannot now exchange myself,
Because I am not mine to give—but his.

KING.
Thou art more beautiful than that fair queen
Who won the Apple prized on Ida's Mount—
The heavenly Queen of Beauty, as of Love.
I am the Paris who will crown thy head
With diadems of conquered worlds. Be mine,
And thou shalt be the Queen of Scotland's King.

DAIDRA.
I am Naisa's queen—who is thy King,
Because, by Nature, greater than thou art.

KING.
Alas! “Non omnia possimus omnes;”
Not all who possess, can possess all things.
My name is Capricorn.

DAIDRA.
Not Capricornia mine.

KING.
Thou art my Tree of Heaven, on whose white boughs
Sit Angel-thoughts, like heavenly Nightingales,
Singing immortal songs.

DAIDRA.
None but my mate
Can rightly understand; for they are couched
In Love's celestial tongue—golden with truth.

KING.
A heavenly Tree must bring forth heavenly fruit—
Like the rich Orange flowering while it bears.
Let me but taste those bursting buds through which
Thy perfumed breath doth waft thy sighs of love,
Like prayers of Saints exhaled with joy to Heaven—
Edening my soul!

[Attempting to kiss her.
DAIDRA.
Take care! Art thou a King?

KING.
Therefore I wish to kiss my queen.

DAIDRA.
If so,
Then show the dignity of a King. You know
A true King will protect his subjects; do
So now to me—thrown suddenly in your power.
I am a woman—as you truly know—
A married woman, who does love her lord.
The courtesy that you would have him show your wife,
Were she alone, as I am now, show me,
And I will bless you in my grave.

KING.
Fear not;
But then your beauty tempted me.

DAIDRA.
Be not
Thus tempted—like poor silly Eve, who brought,
Thereby, such woe upon the world; but live
Above temptation. Kings, who have the power
To conquer others, should subdue themselves.
He who can do this is the only king.

KING.
Have I not done so, that I stand thus far,
Seeing the heavenly fruit, yet touch it not?

DAIDRA.
You do, great King—you do. Had Eve but done
As you do now, looked at the fruit, not touched,
The world would have been saved from Death by Sin—
And Christ would not have died upon the Cross!
Your fortitude is worthy of all praise.
Were I Daidra—not Naisa's wife—
Seeing thee this majestic thing thou art—
I would not husband this Forbidden Tree,
But let thee taste one apple from its boughs.

KING.
Would it were so. Indeed it must be so.

DAIDRA.
For the Forbidden Tree in Paradise,
What was it, but an emblem of myself?
As it belonged to God, so I to him.
As he forbade the eating of its fruit,
Because it had been planted there by Him,
So does he every man from touching me;
Therefore, because of thy great fortitude,
Who, being tempted, yet refused to sin,
After thy death—if thou shouldst ever die—
I will have graven upon thy tombstone—King!

KING.
The richest Epitaph that ever graced
A Tomb, or sung the virtues of a King.
The more I see of thee, the more I love,
Which, loving, only makes me long the more
For thy sweet Beauty, which to me is Heaven!

DAIDRA.
Thus does the Christian diadem the King—
Towering above the valley-lands of Time,
Like the twin peaks of Ararat above
The Deluge that destroyed the world—the first
And last resting-place of the light of Heaven.

KING.
Thou art the Incarnation of God's love—
Meeker than Mercy—gentler than sweet Sleep—
And sinless as Religion.

DAIDRA.
Thou the Alps,
Above the Oberlands of other men.

KING.
Thy feet are here on earth—thy head in Heaven
Among the stars—too high for me to reach—
Beside whose golden throne the Angels sit,
Singing eternal praises on thy name.
Nothing can make me happy but thy love;
I would be Adam—thou my Eve with me
In Paradise, didst thou but only love.

[Exeunt

SCENE II.

A beautiful Flower Garden. Enter Ardan and Darthula as in conversation.
ARDAN.
But, love! the beauty of thy heavenly face
Makes me forget what I had come to do.

DARTHULA.
Then you had other business here besides
Thus meeting me?

ARDAN.
And glad am I I had.
My brother's wife is here?

DARTHULA.
She is—confined
In strict seclusion by my father's power.

ARDAN.
Alas! alas! but were you so confined?

DARTHULA.
May God forbid I ever shall be so.

ARDAN.
But were you so, what would you do to be
Released?

DARTHULA.
Do anything.

ARDAN.
Would you not bless
The hand that had released you?

DARTHULA.
That I would.

ARDAN.
Then why not set her free?

DARTHULA.
But how? how can
I set her free? My father's wrath would take
My life.

ARDAN.
No, he would not; he would not have
The chance—for I would save you from all harm.
Can you not set her free?

DARTHULA.
I can but try.

ARDAN.
Then do, for God's dear sake, do all you can!
Naisa is deranged about his wife.
Although he is thy father, set her free,
And fond Naisa will reward you with
Eternal gratitude.

DARTHULA.
It shall be done.

ARDAN.
Do it for my dear sake. Go, now—yes, now!
Nothing but this would urge me to say—go!
But, for her sake—for his—for mine—go now!

DARTHULA.
I will. Farewell.

ARDAN.
Farewell! God guard thy steps.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE III.

The interior of a Druidical Temple. Caffa discovered alone. Enter Lavercam.
CAFFA.
Blest Lavercam! you are most welcome here!

LAVERCAM.
I come to get the golden Hook to cut
The Mistletoe bough.

CAFFA.
Well, you shall have it soon.
A glorious Reaper thou hast ever been
To me—reaping that rich reward on earth
Which thou shalt reap again in Heaven.

LAVERCAM.
God grant
I may.

CAFFA.
So do the Saints above now reap
Eternal joys—Slessama walking with
Naomi's Ruth, reaping the Fields of Bliss.

LAVERCAM.
So do I hope to gather golden grain
Into the Adamantine Pyramid Bins
Of Heaven.

CAFFA.
Then thine inheritance is hope
In the fruition—not the faith that points
To things unseen—that being buried in
A golden coffin in the silver grave
Of thy good works. Thy Tree is full of fruit.
Thy voice is like the Autumn of the year
In Paradise.

LAVERCAM.
Why not the Summer-time?

CAFFA.
Because the rich perfection of the Spring,
As Autumn is of both.

LAVERCAM.
Thy voice doth sound
Like Summer in the Spring-time of my love.

CAFFA.
What good time of the year is this?

LAVERCAM.
'Tis Spring.

CAFFA.
I thought it our first Sabbath-day in Heaven.

LAVERCAM.
'Tis always Sunday to the souls who love.

CAFFA.
Because Eternity is in their time.
All years to them being but one long day of love—
That day the immortal Sabbath of their souls.

LAVERCAM.
You talk as one who knew the mysteries
Of Heaven.

CAFFA.
And thou the Ænigma of the grave.
For he who goes to God's school will come back learned
In all the infinite riches of the skies.
A perfect lover is the only King—
Love being the only Kingdom come on earth.

LAVERCAM.
Because the Incarnation of God's will—
True marriage being the life to come in this.

CAFFA.
Then we are wedded in the life to come;
For we do live a life of perfect love.
Then we are one in heart as one in soul—
Cemented by that talismanic Seal of Love
Engraven with the Magic Name of God—
Elohim-Ben-Rooakh all around;
For whichsoever way you turn the stone,
Like Solomon's connubial ring, it will
Reveal celestial beauties ever new.

LAVERCAM.
Thy tongue has touched the Altar-coal of Heaven—
Wearing Ezekiel's inkhorn by thy side,
Thy soul is plumed for early flight to Heaven.

CAFFA.
Is not memory the essence of our life,
Through which we live our halcyon days again?
Man has two Edens; one, his youth in time—
The other in Eternity in Heaven.
Midway between these two now stand our souls;
The first is our sweet Youth when near to Heaven;
The other our old Age, when nearer still.

LAVERCAM.
Then why lament the loss of our sweet youth,
When we have promises from God that we
Shall have far richer ones in Heaven, from which
There never shall be any going out?

CAFFA.
Thy words are sweeter far than life to me.

LAVERCAM.
I am most glad they taste sweet to thy lips;
They are forbidden fruit to all besides.
We are instructed to be pure as God.
In hoping to be pure, we grow more so—
Growing the more like Him, the more we hope.

CAFFA.
It is not, then, in any place on earth,
We are to find the Eden that we seek,
But in the Edenic lives of our own souls;
For he who lives the heavenly life on earth,
Will be in Heaven, for Heaven will be in him.
As Paradise was known but by its flowers,
So can we judge the quality of a man,
By the rich fruit he bears. Come in.

LAVERCAM.
I will.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

A Private Apartment in the Palace of the King of Duntrone. Enter King.
KING.
Eogan Mor! come forth to me!

Enter Eogan Mor.
EOGAN MOR.
My lord!

KING.
Where is Darthula? bid her come to me.
[Exit Eogan Mor.
By my immortal soul! I will not rest
Until I know the truth.
Enter Darthula.
Come close to me.
Who set Daidra free? tell me the truth!
For by my hopes of rest in Heaven! it were
Eternal death in Hell for you to lie!
Who set her free?

DARTHULA.
Father! you are not mad—
Not angry with Darthula—your dear child?

KING.
No—I'm not mad, but wish to know the truth;
Now tell it me! I left her in your care—
And you must know who let her out.

DARTHULA.
I do.

KING.
Then tell me who? for, by my soul! he shall
Not live an hour!

DARTHULA.
Even were it your own child?

KING.
Not even mine own dear child. This I have sworn!

DARTHULA.
Then, father! I can never tell.

KING.
Why not?
Now, by my soul! I know who let her out!
Thou didst thyself! thou most ungrateful child!
Speak! tell the truth! tell me if thou didst not!

DARTHULA.
I cannot, father! for my life!

KING.
Base child.
Is this the thanks you give me for your life?

DARTHULA.
No, father! not for that.

KING.
What then? what then?

DARTHULA.
The same that thou didst put her there—for love.

KING.
Didst love her better than thy father then?

DARTHULA.
Not half so well—the thousandth part so well.
But father loves her better than his child—
Else she would not be doomed to die for her!
Is it not strange a father should so love?
Oh! father! do not look upon me thus,
But love me that I set her free.

KING.
Ah! ha!
Then thou didst set her free? Then, by my God!
Nothing but thy quick death can please my soul!
Eogan Mor! come forth!
Enter Eogan Mor.
Conduct this wretch
Back to the place from whence she let Daidra out;
After which bring me back the key—Away!

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE V.

A Druidical Grove. Enter Caffa attended by Lucifer.
CAFFA.
But tell me, Lucifer—answer me this:
Who was the greatest in the Angel-World,
Great Lucifer, or Man?

LUCIFER.
The Angel-Man—
He was the greatest in the Spirit-World.

CAFFA.
But how did all men fall when Adam fell?

LUCIFER.
Just as the Angels fell with Lucifer.
Men are to Adam as they were to him.
No Angel has been honored with his name.
The highest title ever given to Man,
Was given to Christ when He was called God-Man.

CAFFA.
Indeed, a most unblushing flatterer.

LUCIFER.
I tell thee this to show thee what thou art—
What thou couldst never know till after death.
Thine origin is very great—for thou
Wert made in God's own image—pure.

CAFFA.
How low
We are compared with what we were.

LUCIFER.
Although
This earth is far from Heaven, yet, thou art far
From being wise in saying so. Thou art
As ignorant of the earth as of the place
From whence you fell. Was not the form of Christ
Man's form? It was Man's body glorified.
Why was it glorified? To show what he
Was formerly—what he must be again,
When he returns back to the Eden-World.

CAFFA.
The difference between what thou hast been—
What thou art now—how great!

LUCIFER.
It is the same
With Man.

CAFFA.
If Lucifer was placed so far
Beneath the Angel-Man in Heaven, why is
His wisdom greater here on earth?

LUCIFER.
Because
Man's body stands between his soul and God.

CAFFA.
Thou art not corporeal then?

LUCIFER.
When thou
Hast learned sufficient wisdom, thou wilt know
That there are different bodies in the world.

CAFFA.
If Man was made above great Lucifer,
Why does he not subdue him in this world?

LUCIFER.
Because he has forgotten what he was.

CAFFA.
You are inferior to the Angel-Man,
That you would tempt him to be like yourself?

LUCIFER.
Oh, no—I do it but to see how much
A noble Spirit will degrade itself.

CAFFA.
Which makes
The Devil laugh.

LUCIFER.
Would you not laugh were you
The Devil?

CAFFA.
Rather weep.

LUCIFER.
That shows again—
Although you may not think of it—how high
The Angel-Man is over Lucifer.
The one was made to weep, the other—smile.

CAFFA.
But tell me, why was Man turned out of his
Jerusalem above?

LUCIFER.
That he might pass
From his probation back to Heaven again.
It was by wisdom that the worlds were made;
By wisdom shall he be restored to joy again.
Ignorance has been the curse of all mankind.
It is enough to make the Devil laugh,
To think his shoulders are so broad. He is
The scapegoat of the sins of all mankind!

CAFFA.
But Lucifer would reign against God's will.

LUCIFER.
God's will! How could he reign against His will?
God made his soul to reign against His will?
This is absurd.

CAFFA.
That is upon the Scroll.

LUCIFER.
I cannot will against God's will. Will is
An attribute of soul.

CAFFA.
But it is free.

LUCIFER.
Most true. But freedom is to do God's will.
My life is but the breath of God in me.
Then tell me how he fell?

CAFFA.
He fell this wise:
By willing to abuse God's will in him.

LUCIFER.
But this were making it God's will to sin;
That he should will to do just what he did—
No more—else he had been God's equal long
Ago.

CAFFA.
Satan, you mean.

LUCIFER.
This will is Satan in
The Man. What is thy will, but this—to be
Superior to all men? I know you wish
To doubt my word, but it is true; for though
The Devil should speak truth as true as Heaven,
Yet, still he would not be believed—although
A truth on earth is but a truth in Heaven.
Is not the sun a symbol of God's love?
The bright expression of His love for Man?
Show me the Man who does not love his light.
It is by wisdom that we know this truth,
Which is to Man what light is to the earth.
What are the spheres in Heaven, but God's deep love
For Man, expressed in syllables of worlds?
He who can gaze upon the stars, at night,
And read not in them God's eternal love
For Man, in wonderful display, is not
The being God intended him to be.

CAFFA.
But when did Satan first appear to Man?

LUCIFER.
After the Sabbath of celestial rest.

CAFFA.
Oh! Satan! Satan! thou art wondrous wise!

LUCIFER.
It is long suffering that has made me so.
Those who believe that Man was made of earth,
May take a different ground—perhaps in Hell—
Which they deserve. As for myself, I know,
And, knowing, speak the truth.

CAFFA.
Ah! now we change
Our natures, for I laugh, while you should weep.

LUCIFER.
Yes, in thine ignorance, in knowing not
What you desire to know—what now thou art—
What thou hast been. He who does not believe
He was not made of earth, can never be
Above what he is now—but shall be less.

CAFFA.
I know Man's spirit is a part of God.

LUCIFER.
Now thou hast spoken right.

CAFFA.
But tell me, where
Didst thou receive thy form? will it decay?

LUCIFER.
This form?—It is a duplicate of thine.
I am the shadow of thyself.

CAFFA.
Now, you
Astonish me!

LUCIFER.
Not more than you do me.

CAFFA.
How long before we shall begin to go
Back to our former state again?

LUCIFER.
When earth
Is purified to what she was before.

CAFFA.
Then Satan will be chained.

LUCIFER.
Be sent again
Back to his former state from whence he fell.

CAFFA.
God send that hour!—then Man will be at rest.

LUCIFER.
He suffers more from Man than Man from him.

CAFFA.
No man believes that Satan will be saved.

LUCIFER.
But did not Shiloh say he meant to put
All things under His feet? The last that He
Will conquer will be Death. Man, then, will die
No more. Sin, then, will have an end—which is
But saying Satan then will die. This proves
That Lucifer will be restored. For how
Can Satan live, if Sin, his wife, be dead?
Although this is not written on your Scroll,
Deny it, if you can!

CAFFA.
Then you betrayed
The very pride which caused your fall!

LUCIFER.
It is
A noble pride that speaks the truth. So you
Accuse not me, but Him who is all truth;
For that is part of Him, as I am part.
As gold is purified by fire, so is the soul
By wisdom—wisdom is the soul's pure fire.

CAFFA.
Ah! hadst thou not deceived mankind, there would
Have been no need of being restored.

LUCIFER.
If this were not a temporal state,
Could that be an eternal one in Heaven!
We are to change in this, that we may be
Like what we were in that—that we may know
The difference between that state and this.

CAFFA.
When will the curse be taken from the earth?

LUCIFER.
In the beginning here on earth of rest.
Then will the Jubilee of joy begin,
So long expected here on earth, to last
A thousand years. Then will all things be changed,
And made most perfect, as they were the day
That Satan entered Paradise. He who
Has not the linen garments on of truth
And holiness, will, at that hour, appear
Before their Master, as the Virgins did
Who had no oil within their lamps, therefore,
Appeared before the door too late at night
To see the marriage rite performed, or eat
The Banquet long made ready for the wise.

CAFFA.
Will Satan be restored with Man, or on
Some future day with other sinful souls?

LUCIFER.
No—afterwards. The highest spirits will
Be made partakers first.

CAFFA.
The Sabbath then
Will end on earth.

LUCIFER.
To be continued in
A new rejoicing in the Heaven of heavens.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE VI.

A beautiful Grove in the vicinity of the Palace of the King of Duntrone. Enter Eogan Mor, bringing in Darthula.
DARTHULA.
Oh! good Eogan Mor! what shall be done?

EOGAN MOR.
What done? You heard your father's dread commands?

DARTHULA.
I did. But would you, in cold blood, do what
He had commanded in the heat of passion?

EOGAN MOR.
That I must do, or die!

DARTHULA.
Then I must die!
Can you not save me from this cruel fate?

EOGAN MOR.
I would do anything to save your life—
Lay down my own!

DARTHULA.
Then save me from this death?

EOGAN MOR.
But what good turn will I receive?

DARTHULA.
Thanks—thanks—
Eternal thanks! deep gratitude through life,
And blest remembrance after death!

EOGAN MOR.
Fine pay.
But one thing can resist a King's commands.

DARTHULA.
Yes, there are two,—the love of innocent truth.

EOGAN MOR.
Nothing but love could brave his dread commands.
This love I feel for thee—long, long have felt!
For thou art dearer to my soul, than is
The ruby stream that waters this sad heart!

DARTHULA.
Then you will set me free?

EOGAN MOR.
Then I must die!
For to resist his dire commands, is death!
This I would do for thee, because I love!
Which makes me know my love is not returned.

DARTHULA.
Alas! save me from this impending fate!
And I will love you all my life till death!

EOGAN MOR.
There is but one way I can save your life—
By your becoming mine—then you are safe.

DARTHULA.
Where will you go?

EOGAN MOR.
Fly—fly to some far land,
Where we will live until the King relents.

DARTHULA.
Suppose we join with Usna's Sons?

EOGAN MOR.
No—no!
Better unite with Ulster than the Sons.

DARTHULA.
No, let us join great Usna's Sons; they will
Protect us, with the prowess of their arms,
Forever from the fury of his wrath!

EOGAN MOR.
No, I would rather join with Ulster's troops;
For Usna's Sons I hate as I do Hell!

DARTHULA.
Then follow his commands; perhaps, at some
Less passionate hour, he may relent.

EOGAN MOR.
Relent!
A word not found in the whole Book of Kings.

DARTHULA.
Then what am I to do?

EOGAN MOR.
Do as I say?

DARTHULA.
No, if you love me, as you say you do,
Join, then, with Usna's Sons.

EOGAN MOR.
Well, then, come on.
[Aside.
Now will I start, but never to return!
Nor will I ever join with Usna's Sons.
[Aloud.
Come, my Darthula! fairest flower on earth!
I will not prove unworthy of thy love.
Now, then, for the Tent of Usna's noble Sons.

DARTHULA.
Remember, that I pledge myself to go,
Only on this condition,—that you bear
Me quickly from this Palace to their Tents?

EOGAN MOR.
I will. Come on. We must not tarry here;
For you must know our fate, should we be found
Loitering in conversation here.

DARTHULA.
I do.
Farewell, my father! most unkind—farewell!
I go to join my fate with Usna's Sons.
When we do meet again, I hope to find
Thine iron hate turned into softest down of love.

EOGAN MOR.
Farewell, old Palace! never more will thine
Old walls echo again the footsteps of
Eogan Mor!—farewell! a long farewell!
Now, then, that you have promised me to go,
I know your heart was in your mouth. Come on.

DARTHULA.
Eogan Mor, one thing I wish to know:
Why do you hate the Sons of Usna so?

EOGAN MOR.
Because they killed my father—brothers too—
The wolf of my revenge howls for their lives!
Like to a new-dug grave, as deep as wide,
My soul now hungers, thirsting for their souls.
For, know, I would be broken on the wheel,
Or suffer any torment under Heaven,
But to have full revenge upon their lives!

DARTHULA.
But was it not in battle they were slain?

EOGAN MOR.
It was—fighting for Conor's noble lives.

DARTHULA.
But were they not defending their own lives?

EOGAN MOR.
Just as you will—if you compare such lives
As theirs with my dear father's—brothers slain!
They are but plebeians at the best—mere slaves—
Aping to be what they can never be;
Living in tents, yet wishing to be Kings.

DARTHULA.
You only see the outside of their Tent—
Within sits Royalty divinely arrayed.

EOGAN MOR.
The David who has stolen Uriah's wife.
I left old Eman for thy father's house—
Waiting as vigilant as the Eye of Heaven,
Watching while shedding light on his great flock
Of Stars, peopling the unfenced Fields of Heaven,
Night after night, with pyrotechnial joy—
The day when Conor should exile them hence—
Throwing them in my power. That day has come—
Which I will make a Day among all days—
More noted than the rest of all the year—
Baptizing it, in name of kindred dear,
In the black blood of Usna's murderous Sons.

DARTHULA.
Eogan Mor! you frighten me with talk of blood!

EOGAN MOR.
What would you have me do? Submit to them?
Live tamely under mountain-loads of crime,
Piled on my soul as high as Heaven? foul deeds,
That cry from this high Mountain-top to God—
Revenge! revenge! revenge! What is this life,
Without the lives of those most dear to me?
Shall I walk earth—the same blest earth they walked—
Left desolate now that they are gone—baptized
In their most precious blood! they walk here too?
No! no! I tell thee—never! they must die!
The Earth lifts up her hands to Heaven in prayer,
Rethundering back God's Judgment,—Blood for blood!
The Heavens pour down their lightnings on my head,
Eternally, by day as by the night, in one
Immortal deluge of imperious wrath—
“Revenge! revenge thy father's—brothers' death!”
The prompting killing me with daily death,
Because I do not scourge them from the earth—
Usurping lives long forfeited to Heaven!

Enter Lavercam, unperceived.
LAVERCAM.
Beware of false Eogan Mor! Go not
To Ulster. Ardan waits for thee. Farewell.

[Exit.
DARTHULA.
What voice was that which spake to me? What? gone?
I hope I do beware of him.

EOGAN MOR.
I heard no voice.
What is the matter now? Thinking of Usna's Sons?
Is Ardan in thy soul? or Ainli? which?
[Aside.
If either, by the God of Heaven, or Hell,
Thou wilt repent that he was ever there!
For I do nourish scorpions in my soul—
Nestled in hot Hell-fire—to think of them!
[Alarums without.
What noise was that? the voice of Usna's Sons?

DARTHULA.
The voice of battle! my dear father's troops!
Coming to take revenge on his dear child!
Come, let us fly!

EOGAN MOR.
We will—to Erin's Isle.
Come on—we must not tarry here! Come—come!

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

The Highway. Enter Daidra attended by Lavercam. Loud alarms without.
DAIDRA.
Oh! God! thou art a ministering Angel sure!
What noise was that?

LAVERCAM.
The noise of men of war.
Come—let us on; the Sons of Usna wait,
With most impatient fear, for our return.

DAIDRA.
Oh! God! then take me straight to them.

LAVERCAM.
This way.

DAIDRA.
Oh! what a simple thing I was to leave
Their Tent of Blessedness for this great woe!

LAVERCAM.
That you never should have done.

DAIDRA.
I know—
I know I never should; but then I did;
How sorry now! But will Naisa see
That I am sorry as I am—therefore,
Forgive me for the sin? this is my grief—
My greatest grief, for fear that he will not!

LAVERCAM.
Then fear no more—thy sins are all forgiven.

DAIDRA.
Then let us haste to him! for I do long
To pour my soul out at his feet in tears
Of penitential sorrow! Come—away!
Enter Eogan Mor attended by Darthula.
Oh! God! who do I see? Eogan Mor?
Darthula! is this you?

DARTHULA.
My dearest friend!
Whom have you here?

DAIDRA.
My dearest friend—as thine.
Whence are you bound?

DARTHULA.
To go with thee.

DAIDRA.
Then come.

EOGAN MOR.
No, she shall not—but go with me—you too—
Whence we are bound—to Erin's Isle. So, come.

DAIDRA.
No, never will we go with thee. How came
You with this man? He is our deadliest foe—
As well as Usna's Sons.

DARTHULA.
I know that well—
Nor would have come with him, had he not sworn
To take me straight to them.

EOGAN MOR.
By Hell! will you
Betray your traitorship to me! Then die!

[Attempts to stab her, but Lavercam wards off the blow.
DAIDRA.
Vile monster! we are proof against thy steel!

Alarums without. Enter Ardan in haste.
ARDAN.
Oh, God! Daidra! My Darthula here?
Thank Heaven! for this has been a blessed day!

[Embraces her.
EOGAN MOR.
But thou hast only looked upon the Morn!
The Evening has just risen upon high noon!
Look up above thy soul into my face,
And read thy night! Eogan Mor is here!

ARDAN.
Eogan Mor! I look upon thy Æthiop face,
And read the Mystic Characters of Death
And Hell.

EOGAN MOR.
That is the Scripture of thy doom!

ARDAN.
Thou art an Incarnation of black Hell!

EOGAN MOR.
That is the thunderous judgment of thy doom—
Welling down out of Heaven on thy damned soul!
Knowest thou who killed my father—brothers too?
For that black deed, the Sons of Usna all shall die!

ARDAN.
But on the ebon wall of thine own house,
I see engraven thine own fierce doom of death!

EOGAN MOR.
Thou dost behold awry thine own! Come on!

ARDAN.
No Son of Usna yet was ever born
To die by thee! We wear the Angels' robes.

EOGAN MOR.
Woven of sackcloth of the damned in Hell!

ARDAN.
Of golden tissue in the loom of Heaven.

EOGAN MOR.
Then I will tear the lamb's wool from thy back,
And show thy wolfish back to all Hell's dogs!

ARDAN.
The sight of naked Truth would strike thee blind!
As well attempt to look the noonday sun
Full in the face, as naked Truth.

EOGAN MOR.
Come on!
No more of parley now! Thy sun has risen
For the last time on earth—to set in blood!

ARDAN.
The Sun doth only rise, but never sets;
So man when seeming dead, but only lives—
There being no death unto the virtuous soul—
But one eternal Morn that knows no night.

EOGAN MOR.
Thy logic cannot save thee from thy doom!
The hour that I have prayed for now is come!
This hour thou hast to die! So, now, come on!

ARDAN.
I come—to crown thee with an iron crown,
And, after, set thee on thy throne in Hell!

[They fight desperately. Eogan Mor falls.
Exeunt Lavercam and Daidra.
EOGAN MOR.
Oh! God! oh! Hell! where are thy fiends? rise! rise!
And pour thy fiery thunders through my soul,
That I may blast this murderer from the earth!

[Striking in every direction at Ardan.
ARDAN.
Eogan Mor! I would not have thee die
With hatred in thy soul! I hate thee not—
Though thou wert sent by Conor for our lives!
Thou wilt not tarry long in Hell, before
Thy King will follow after thee. If thou
Wilt be as faithful there as here, he will,
No doubt, reward thee well—better than he
Could do on earth—for he will have more power—
Surrounded by so many faithful friends.

EOGAN MOR.
Oh! damnéd Fiend! thy steel was cold as ice!
But it has let Hell-fire in through the wound,
That scorches all my inward soul of life!
I go before! but thou shalt follow soon!
Oh, Conor! take revenge upon them all!
Remember thy last promise made to me!
I die—cursing them as I die—damned Fiends!

[Dies. Alarums without.
ARDAN.
Now will I on! Come, my Darthula! come!

[Exit.

SCENE VIII.

Naisa's Tent. Enter Daidra to Naisa. They sit down to play chess. A distant call is heard.
NAISA.
Hark! hark! I heard a cry!

DAIDRA.
I heard no cry.

NAISA.
The cry, too, of a mighty Man of Chase!
Hark! the voice of a man of Erin calls!

DAIDRA.
That was no man of Erin called.

NAISA.
It was—
I know his voice!

DAIDRA.
Some man of Alba called.

NAISA.
That was some man of Erin cried!

DAIDRA.
Oh, no—
Rather a man of Alba, to my ear.
Let us play on.

NAISA.
No—that was Fergus' voice!
I know it well. Four times has he cried now,
And every time it sounded like his voice!
Enter Ardan.
Go, Ardan—see if Fergus has not come.

ARDAN.
I will—I think it was his voice.

DAIDRA.
Why does
He come?

NAISA.
Perhaps to visit us—or win
Us home again.

DAIDRA.
I knew it was his cry,
But would not say.

NAISA.
Why not, dear queen? Why not
Reveal your thought to me?

DAIDRA.
Because of that
Dread Vision which I saw last night in sleep!

NAISA.
What Vision, love? tell me thy dream.

DAIDRA.
I thought
I saw three Blackbirds fly in haste to me
From Eman of Macha, bearing in their beaks
Three cups of Honey, which they left with us,
Taking away with them three cups of Blood
From our rent hearts!

NAISA.
But how interpret you
This dream, dear love?

DAIDRA.
This wise,—That Fergus comes
With overtures of peace from Conor's Court.
For peace is sweet, though sent from vile men's lips—
As honey is made out of bitterest flowers.
If this be so, then we are surely lost!

NAISA.
Nay—Fergus would not bring such ruin to us.
He comes, perhaps, with Conor's overthrow,
And may have been long time in port. If so,
Ardan will bring him safe to us, when we
Will learn his object for this visit here.

DAIDRA.
Mind what I say—my dream foreboded ruin
To Usna's Sons!

NAISA.
Nay, think not so, dear love!
You make me sad to see you so. Dreams are
But dreams—to waking-hours like drops of dew
At noontide, fading into clouds of mist.
Come, be more cheerful; you will make me sad.

DAIDRA.
I would be if I could—but cannot be.
Would it had been a man of Alba's voice.

NAISA.
Is this the reason why you said it was?

DAIDRA.
It was.

NAISA.
I knew it was; then I was not
Deceived.

DAIDRA.
I did not mean you should.

NAISA.
Oh! God! how much I love this Perfect One,
Is only known to Him who is all love!
Come, let us go into our tent again,
And there make ready to receive our guest.
Re-enter Ardan with Fergus, his two Sons, and Callon, his Shield-bearer.
Friends of my soul! most welcome are you here!
Not Jove, by Hermes tended, was more welcome
To Philemon's fair home, than those dear friends
To Alba's happy land. Come, sit you down.

FERGUS.
We are most glad to see you well.

NAISA.
What news
From Erin? Tell us Tales of other times.

FERGUS.
We cannot tell you Tales of other times,
When the Good News that Conor sends for you,
Shall divertise our time—making us glad.

DAIDRA.
That news should rather make us weep. It is
Not meet that we should go to him. There is
No good in anything he does; the worst
Thing that he ever did is sending for us here;
For greater is our sway in Alba here,
Than Conor's sway in Erin ever was.

FERGUS.
But cheerless is the soul of any man
Whose life is spent so far away from home—
Our nativity being dearest of all things.

DAIDRA.
Your words sound sweet, but sadder far than sweet
To those who love, but cannot see their homes;
Like Siren's Songs to the rapt Mariners' ears,
Luring them down to speedy death! Then heed
Them not, Naisa; like the wise Ulysses did,
Put wax into thy ears, until we pass
This place—this Paradise of heavenly songs.

FERGUS.
Though prosperity equalled our power,
Unless we exercised it at our home,
It would be only utter want misused.

NAISA.
Most true; for I have realized it here,
As King of this fair Country, long ago;
For dearer far than Alba Erin is,
Should Alba have ten times more wealth in gold.

FERGUS.
Then go with me to Erin. Alba has
No charms for one in Erin born.

DAIDRA.
She has
A thousand times more charms for me, though one
In Erin born.

FERGUS.
Daidra doubts my word;
But you may place firm confidence in me;
For though the whole wide world were armed against
Your lives, I would be for you to the last.

NAISA.
We have strong confidence in you—so strong
That we will go with you to Erin now.

DAIDRA.
Then you will go without consent of mine.
Alas! that ever I was born to see
What I shall see!—to know what I shall know!
Put you no confidence in dreams, my love?
I tell you that I saw three Birds of Night
Flying from Eman, bearing in their beaks
Three cups of Honey, which they gave to us
For three drops of our heart's most precious Blood!

NAISA.
But there is no reality in dreams.
They are but shadows of our light of life,
Which flit about our spirits in the night,
Led on by Memory of our waking hours.

DAIDRA.
I grant you they are shadows of our lives;
But what are shadows, but the ghosts of Forms
That bask in substance; just as these three birds
Were Phantoms of the Forms of Conor's thoughts—
Black Vultures, which shall feed upon our lives!

FERGUS.
I pledge you my most solemn word, your fears
Are all ill-founded; for, should all the hosts
Of Erin rise against you, they would not
Avail against the power that I can wield
For your protection—Conor's guarantee.

NAISA.
Then I will go with you to Erin.

FERGUS.
Come.

DAIDRA.
Alas! alas! what is to be our fate?
God only knows I truly know too well!
Farewell, dear Alba! Most delightful land!
My grief is only equalled by my love!
Thy Harbors are delightful as thy Bays,
Whose silver waters shingle golden sands,
Weaving sweet music there forever more!
Farewell! farewell! I have to leave thee now!
As Eve sighed when she left her Paradise,
So I now sigh with tears to go from mine.
Then thy dear beauteous plains with verdure clad,
As soft as velvet, or as down of Swans;
And thy green-sided hills of gentlest slope,
Down which the fugitive streams in wildness leap,
Like Roebucks, hastening to embrace the Sea;
And many other things most dear to me—
How hard it is for me to leave you now!
But it must be—for where Naisa goes,
There I must go—though it should be to death;
Which I believe, nay, know, will surely be,
If I now leave thee for dear Erin's shore!
Farewell, delightful land! land of my love!
From Draynoe's lovely Isle, the Wood of Kone,
Where Ainli did resort to kill the deer—
Sweet Vale of Massan! Urchay's lonely Vale!
The Vale of Eti! seat of loftiest Hills!
The Vale of Roes, near Draynoe's sounding shore!
Where the great King of Day did build his House!
Farewell! farewell! I have to leave you now!

[Exeunt omnes.
Curtain Falls.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

The Mansion of Barach. Enter Fergus, attended by the Sons of Usna, Daidra, Ainli, Ardan, his two Sons, Illan the Fair, and Buini the Ruthless Red, and Callon, the Shield-bearer. Enter Barach.
BARACH.
Welcome, most noble Fergus! welcome home!
And you, the three great Sons of Usna—Kings!
And fair Daidra, brave Naisa's queen!
Thrice welcome all! Come, make yourselves at home!
Sit down. The dust of travel on your feet—
The weariness of walking in your limbs—
You must want rest. Sit down. Come, Fergus—sit.
And you, Daidra! tired as you must be—
Thou—fairest one of woman ever born!
Here, take your fill of rest until the morn.

NAISA.
We thank you from our hearts, but we must on:
The day is growing late; we have no time
Now to reach Eman by the set of Sun.

BARACH.
Then, Fergus, you will stay? I know you will—
For you have sworn not to refuse a Feast,
When proffered to you by the friend you love.
This I have now prepared for you; so, you
Must stay. I hold you to your solemn vows,
Which you cannot forswear. Come, sit you down.

FERGUS.
No, by the Eternal Gods! I will not sit!
Hard is your heart to urge me to a feast,
When you do know I promised Conor, that,
So soon as I had trod on Erin's shore,
Whether it was by night, or by the day,
I would not tarry till I had arrived
In Eman with the three great Usna-Sons.

BARACH.
I lay you under solemn banns, that you
Remain till you have taken of this Feast.

FERGUS.
Now, by my God! the day will come when you
Will rue the untimed cooking of this Feast!
What shall be done, Naisa? I must stay,
Or be forsworn!

NAISA.
Do as you please. You have
The power to stay or go—use your own choice—
Forsake us for the Feast—the Feast for us.

FERGUS.
But I will not forsake you for the Feast,
For I will send my Sons along with you—
Illan the Fair, with Buini the Ruthless Red.

NAISA.
Upon my soul, we thank you not for them,
For we want none to help us but ourselves.
So, now, farewell!

[Exeunt the Sons of Usna, Daidra, and Fergus' Sons.
FERGUS.
May Heaven attend your steps!
Now is my soul most sorrowful indeed!
Oh! Barach! Barach! you have broke my heart—
Forcing me here to stay against my will!
Feasting the banquet that I cannot eat!

[Exeunt Barach and Fergus.

SCENE II.

A Private Apartment in Eman of Macha. Enter Lavercam and Conor, in conversation.
CONOR.
But Caffa were no more to me than Pan
To Apollo, who hangs the Heavens in chains
Of harmony. The wisdom of my mind
Doth rule mankind, building up daily power,
As Orpheus caused the trees to move with song,
Arion penned the Dolphins with his Lute,
And great Amphion built the walls of Thebes.

LAVERCAM.
But was not Pan god of this world, as thou
Desirest now to be? Then, why call thyself
Apollo, when thou'rt Pan, who would make me
Thy Syrinx—play upon me too—thy Pipe?
No, Caffa is Hyperion, with his locks
Of gold, like clusters of the vine, in whose
Rich curls Cupid lies nestling, like the Dove
In her soft nest.

CONOR.
A Virginal thou art,
On whom none but thy King should play—a harp
Of a thousand strings, kept ever in tune
By Angels' hands.

LAVERCAM.
None less than Angels' hands
Shall ever touch my strings.

CONOR.
I am thy lord—
As only Kings know how to value love—
Being Images of Him who is all love.

LAVERCAM.
Great Caffa is. Arcadia is his home;
I his Erato, who respond to him,
The majesty of mountains—I his Nymph.
Where Phœbus drives his Chariot, there I ride—
Borne on by horses swift as Eagles' wings—
Whose feet strike lightning from the adamant;
Whose nostrils, trumpet-like, dilated with
Their breath, blow joy throughout the world. He feeds
On nectar.

CONOR.
So do I, hearing thee talk.
Love, you know, made Jupiter a Swan.

Lavercam
(aside).
And you a goose.

CONOR.
Thou art my Leda, love—
Could bring the gods down from their starry thrones
In Heaven.

LAVERCAM.
One did come down when Caffa came—
Pan with his primal name,—The Universe.

CONOR.
The All in One belongs alone to kings.

LAVERCAM.
Apollo being Pan—King Caffa both—
A double King—woodland melodies his songs—
Making the woods resound with melody;
Having Apollo's beauty with Pan's horns—
That is, great strength with comeliness combined.

CONOR.
Does he hear well?

LAVERCAM.
Just opposite to you—
Without your ass's ears.

CONOR.
Well, you are frank.
But anything from thy sweet lips sounds sweet
Unto my ears.

LAVERCAM.
They are so large.

CONOR.
Should be—
To take all in.

LAVERCAM.
The chain which binds my heart
Is made of love, not gold.

CONOR.
Love is of gold;
For where there is no gold, there is no love.
Like a Butterfly in the month of May,
Thou art, first, here—then, everywhere.

LAVERCAM.
Because
I am all Psyche—soul.

CONOR.
True—all my soul.
For, without thee, I have no life.

LAVERCAM.
Then thou
Art dead—for thou art without me.

CONOR.
Most true.
Soon thou shalt wear my love upon thy head,
Like a Tiara of Glory.

LAVERCAM.
True—
The glory that would tire. I am no wheel
Thus to be bound around by thy rich bands.

CONOR.
But, like the Chariot of Aminadab,
Full of pure love.

LAVERCAM.
Where thou shalt never ride.

CONOR.
This talk brings no refreshment to my soul.
I would not only climb the mountain's heights,
But dive into the bottom of the sea,
And bring up priceless pearls to deck thy brow,
But to possess thy heart.

LAVERCAM.
Thou shalt be saved
That trouble; thou mightst get drowned; then some great
Fish would eat thee—as thou dost, now, with thine
Almightiness, eat many little ones.

CONOR.
Thou art a Swan-like Ivory Lute.

LAVERCAM.
Whereon
Is written “Noli me Tangere”—touch
Me not.

CONOR.
On my heart's Altar, Cupid now
Is seen kindling his vestal fires.

LAVERCAM.
There let
It burn—the sooner thou'rt consumed the better
It'll be for me.

CONOR.
I took thee for an Angel, love!
But there is consolation none in thee!
[Exit Lavercam.
Now she is gone! Gone evermore from me—
Leaving no sun in Heaven! What shall be done?
Persuasion I will try no more—but force;
Yes, threats—peremptory threats; commands
That would make tremble stoutest knees; quail even
The mightiest hearts! This I will do. She must
Be mine. There never yet was woman born
So near my Ideal of Divine as she.
To gain her, I would give the world—yes, even
Barter my place of future life in Heaven.
Then why should I thus parley? Spend my time
Trying to coax what I have power to make?
I will persuade no more; no, she is mine.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

The Highway. Enter Naisa, Daidra, and Attendants.
DAIDRA.
Now, dear Naisa! let me give you good
Advice.

NAISA.
What is it, love?

DAIDRA.
Go not alone
To Eman; stop at Rachlin for the day,
Till Fergus do partake the feast; for this
Will be fulfilling of his word for him,
As well as the prolonging of your life for you.

NAISA.
We will not practise your advice, dear love;
Because we need no aid but from ourselves.

DAIDRA.
Alas! then, death will surely be our fate.
Where is the plighted faith of Fergus now?
Broken, as we will be, by Conor's sword!
Broken in twain by Barach's vulture-beak!
Feasting him now at home on aspen's tongues!
Unsteady Son of Roy! unfaithful man!
My heart is broke! my day is turned to night!
The fulness of my days is surely come!

NAISA.
Oh! say not so, Daidra! Say not so!
Fergus would not have come but for our good,
And surely will not tarry long behind.

DAIDRA.
Woe! woe! alas! as long as I shall live—
Which cannot now be long—will I be forced
To sing the memory of this bitter day!

NAISA.
Lo! on the topmost peak of Fuad I behold
The Watchtowers of Fincarn looming aloft,
Like some great soul upheld by mighty deeds—
Firm as the Pillars of Eternity!
So does my soul now stand upon these Hills
Of Erin, overlooking all the world—
Immutable—immortal—grand—sublime!
What dost thou see, dear Queen?

DAIDRA.
Alas!
Sad is the sight that now appears to me!
The three fair Sons of Usna lying dead!

NAISA.
May the Sorrows of thy delicate Soul
Fall on the heads of those most heartless fiends!
I see the willows on Ardsellach's Heights
Towering aloft above the distant Hills,
Cheered into endless Eden by the songs
Of many falling streams, whose garrulous flow
Wakes raptures in the hearts of million flowers,
That now imparadise the vales below.

DAIDRA.
The willows weep upon Ardsellach's Heights—
Crowning the Mountains with their wavy green,
Where they forever stand, like funeral trains,
Mourning for Erin's endless loss to-day!
Naisa! see that cloud which I now see
Hanging in Heaven far over Eman green—
A chilling cloud of blood-tinged red! Now let
Me give you good advice.

NAISA.
What good advice?

DAIDRA.
Go to Dundalgan, where Cuchullan lives,
Till Fergus do partake the feast, for fear
Of Conor's treachery.

NAISA.
Since fear lives not within
Our souls, we will not practise your advice.

DAIDRA.
Then you will all be slain as sure as life!
Go, then, where the Hero of Art resides,
For, if to-morrow you to Eman go,
Never will you return from thence alive!

NAISA.
No, my Daidra! queen of all my heart!
Since fear rests not within our souls, we will
Not practise your advice, but go.

DAIDRA.
Alas!
Then has it come to this? But once not so.
For when Mananan, King of Lir, the Sea,
First brought the full cup of your love to me,
Which I then drained with joy—it was not so!
Then we were both of one accord; now we
Are discords—never more to sound in unison!

NAISA.
Come—let us now move on.

DAIDRA.
But wait;
I have a Signal for you, whereby you
May know whether or not he have design
Upon our lives.

NAISA.
What Signal, love?

DAIDRA.
Why, this:
If he do let us where his Nobles are,
Then he has no design upon our lives;
But if he send us to the Red Branch, then
He means to have us slain! Mind what I say!

NAISA.
Then we will mind. Come, let us on. Come on.

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE IV.

A Druidical Grove. Enter Caffa, attended by Lucifer.
CAFFA.
But tell me—fear you not the Judgment Day?

LUCIFER.
I fear it not. Why should I fear that Day?

CAFFA.
The evil spirits thou hast ruined—will they
Not be condemned with thee that Day?

LUCIFER.
They will!
And I rejoice to think that those whom God
Created over me, shall be brought down,
By my superior wisdom, into Hell—
There to remain, until their punishment
Has taught them how they should have thanked the God
Of Heaven, for making them so far above
That Spirit, whom their ignorance shall make
Their own victorious King!

CAFFA.
Oh! Satan! thou
Art viler than I thought!

LUCIFER.
How vile? Have I
Not spoken truth? Is it not on the Scroll?
Will I not be an Instrument in God's
Great hands to scourge the offender down to Hell?
I will be then obeying His commands.
Will that be vile? I will be better than
They are! Why, then, should I not be restored
As soon as they? nay, even before?

CAFFA.
Thou art
A cunning snake—a mystery—a doubt!
But cunning as thou art, I am no bird
To rush into thy jaws! Ah! fix thy gaze,
And charm me as thou wilt; but thou wilt find
I am Hell-proof! This was an Angel's gift!
And I defy thee! Conquer him by this;
And I will do His will, so help me, God!
Now, do thy worst!

LUCIFER.
By Hell! a noble soul!
But I will trap him, noble as he is!
Yes! I will ransack Hell for vilest means
To ruin his soul! [Aloud.]
Why, what's the matter now?
Have I offended thee? Pray, pardon me!

[Kneeling.
CAFFA.
Since thou art conquered by my will, if thou
Dost feel remorse—I pardon thee. Arise!

[He rises.
LUCIFER.
This is my throne. Thou art a stranger here.
Misfortune makes us friends. Give me thy hand.
We are the only beings that could fall;
And, as we are both wanderers from our Home—
Met here by accident—let us unite,
Till we have found the Path of Peace, which leads
The stricken mourner to his Home again—
The Home of Happiness—that Home of Joy,
Where all the flowery Pastures lie—where Spring
Forever reigns—where Winter never comes—
Where living waters flow—where luscious fruits
Forever grow—where Day forever shines;
And where the soul, immortal as its God,
Forever dwells, rejoicing as it grows—
Filled with the plenitude of boundless bliss.

CAFFA.
That Satan is a Rhapsodist, I know:
But how it is that you can be restored,
Is more than I can see. It seems to me
The more impossible the more I see
Of thee.

LUCIFER.
There's nothing so with God. All things
Are possible with Him. Nor is it half
So strange as to believe that Man was once
The highest Angel in the realms of rest.
But it is so. What Angel ever called
The Lord his Father? None but Man.

CAFFA.
Well! well!
What do you call Him then?

LUCIFER.
Look on thy Scroll.
Jehovah-Elohim—that is His name.

CAFFA.
Satan! thou art no fool.

LUCIFER.
Give me the Scroll.

CAFFA.
What wilt thou do with it?

LUCIFER
(aside).
Entrap thy soul.
[Aloud.
Keep it as a memorial of our love.

CAFFA.
It is for this that I would keep it too—
In memory of the one who gave it me.
It is my title deed to lands in Heaven.
Were I to give it thee, I would lose all,
Save what thou hast—the heritage of Hell!
Then ask no more—it was an Angel's gift—
That Angel came from Heaven; that Heaven is mine.
Nay, rather ask me for myself—for what
Were self, without the hopes of being more?
This is that hope—nay, more—the priceless right
To Heaven, with Heaven's own seal attached to it.
That many-gated City of pure gold—
The Jasper-walled Jerusalem above—
Where sings the immortal Nightingale,
Whose golden song doth ravish Angels' ears—
Whose tones are poured out of his pregnant throat
On eloquent persuasion on the soul,
Like sparkling jewels scattered round about,
In prodigal profusion, from the brows
Of Angels, dancing with the Seraphim
In careless ecstasy around God's throne.
The music of the living streams is there—
More sweet to me than all the joys of earth;
For there the air is laden down with balm—
The breath of the immortal Amaranth,
Which blossoms ever more, refreshing Heaven—
On whose celestial, never-withering leaves
The Angels lie while resting from their joys—
Such joys as never bring regret, but are
The harbingers of greater ones to come.
Theirs, then, is happiness indeed—delights
Which end not in the making—but are born
Forever from the bosom of pure Love.
This, then, is Heaven indeed—not such as Man
Can see in Woman's smile—though it be pure—
The April dawn of vestal modesty—
(The nearest Heaven of anything on earth)—
But an eternal, ever-variant Heaven,
The mother of as many ever-variant joys,
Which shall forever rhapsodize the soul,
Making Eternity an endless hour—
An ecstasy forever to be spent.

LUCIFER.
By Hell! the Scroll has taught him more of Heaven
Than I can tell! His soul draws strength from it
To baffle all mine arts—never to be
Subdued till it is taken from his hand!
But how? How now shall it be mine? This wise,—
I will fall down and worship him. By Heaven!
Give me the Scroll and I will worship thee!

CAFFA.
We are forbidden, by the Word of God,
To worship any one but God. Farewell!

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE V.

Eman of Macha. Enter Naisa, Daidra (veiled), Ainli, and Ardan, attended by the two Sons of Fergus, Illan the Fair, and Buini the Ruthless Red, and Callon, the Shield-bearer.
NAISA
(knocking at the door).
Open the door!

CONOR
(within).
Who knocks?

NAISA.
Open to us!
We are the Sons of Usna, Illan Fin,
Buini the Ruthless Red, Fergus' Son,
And Callon, his Shield-bearer, just returned
From Alba, of resplendent clime, to the more
Glorious land of Erin. Let us in.

Enter Conor followed by Servitor.
CONOR
(opening the door).
Most welcome are you here, my noble Sons!
Right glad am I to see you safe returned!
How is the Red Branch circumstanced for food?

[To Servitor.
SERVITOR.
Amply, great King—with food as well as drink.
Should the seven Battalions of Ullan be
Stationed there, they would find satiety
Of all things necessary for their health.

CONOR.
Then take them there.

DAIDRA.
No, let us not go there!
For if you do, you never will return
Alive! Now take my counsel—do not go!

ILLAN.
We will not do so; for no cowardice,
Or littleness, was ever known to us.
So we will go with him. Come—let us on.

NAISA.
As for their alluring viands, they have
No charms for us—so might have saved themselves
The trouble of this costly preparation.
The food we live on, is above or meat,
Or drink—the Angels' food—the Bread of Heaven!
On this shall our immortal souls grow fat.
Till, like the mountains of our native land,
We grow in stature equal to the Gods!

[Exeunt.
CONOR.
Go to the Red Branch, thou damned Fiends! to feast;
But never to return from thence alive!
I will now show the Sons of Usna that
It is a dangerous thing to steal my wife!
Call Lavercam! tell her to come to me!
[Exit Servitor.
Now, what I want to know the most, is this—
Whether or not Daidra's beauty live
Upon her as it did in days gone by;
For, if it do, there is not in this world
A woman beautiful as she. How shall
I know? Then will I half forgive her for
Her vilest treachery; for I do long to be
In safe possession of those matchless charms
Which once were mine—will soon be mine again.
Till when, may all the Devils in Hell combine
To teach me cunning means to take revenge
On that damned Fiend who stole her from my arms!

Enter Lavercam.
CONOR.
Welcome, good Lavercam! What is the news?

LAVERCAM.
Good news as bad.

CONOR.
What news is that?

LAVERCAM.
Why, this—
That the three Sons of Usna are returned—
Now in the Red Branch,—safe at home again—
With whom you have all power, henceforth, to wield
The destiny of Erin at your will.
These the good tidings that I bring; the bad
Are these,—that the fair woman whom you loved—
Whose beauty once excelled all women born—
Is now bereft of every matchless grace,
And hideous to behold.
[Exit Lavercam.

CONOR.
Then half my hate
Lies buried at my feet—never more to be
Rekindled into raging fires of Hell.
Let him enjoy her ugliness; he is
Well worthy of the prize; although he thought
To rob me of the sweetest thing on earth.
Now, let him revel in the loss of that
Which once was mine. But she may lie. Who knows?
For women all are false—the old as well
As young. She may be friendly to the Sons;
And was the tutoress of Daidra's youth.
I now will send an enemy to her;
And if their tidings tally, all is right;
If not, let Lavercam forever fear!
Who shall I send?—Trendorn!

Enter Trendorn.
TRENDORN.
My lord!

CONOR.
Come here!
Who slew thy father—thy three brothers too!
Know you the man?

TRENDORN.
I know him well, my lord!
That knowledge I possess too well! it was
Naisa, Son of Usna, slew them all!

CONOR.
Know you not that they are in the Red Branch here?

TRENDORN.
I know it well, my lord!

CONOR.
Then seek him out.
But, first, see if Daidra's countenance
Live on her as it did in days gone by—
For Lavercam has just returned to me,
Saying she is most hideous to behold.
But as I do suspect all womankind,
I now send you to see; for if it do,
There is not on the ridge of this vast world,
A woman beautiful as she. Now go—
See for us both—then come to me again:

TRENDORN.
I will.
Such tidings as her beauty shall declare,
Those will I bring to you. Farewell.

CONOR.
Then go—
Go quickly, for I long to know the truth.
[Exit Trendorn.
What if the Sons of Usna did, in battle,
Slay this vile menial's father—brothers too—
Should that breed enmity at this late day,
Now that the injury is old? No—no!
Unless Revenge must never sleep; but, like
The Lynx' Argus eyes, stand open wide,
Fierce as the Vigil of the God of Day?
Or, God's wide open eyes that never sleep—
Watchful by night, as by the day.
Re-enter Trendorn.
What now?

TRENDORN.
Oh! God! my eye! my eye is out! my eye
Is out!

CONOR.
Your eye is out! who put it out?

TRENDORN.
Naisa, through the Red Branch window, did,
As I peeped in to see Daidra's face!
Oh! God! I never shall behold her more!

CONOR
(aside).
The man who made that throw, will be the King
Of all this world, if he have not short life!
What visage did you find upon her face?

TRENDORN.
The fairest ever born. There is not in
This world a woman beautiful as she!

CONOR
(aside).
Now do the embers of expiring hate
Begin to glimmer in my heart again!
The tyrant never willingly employs
Any but meanest tools to do his work!
If she be beautiful as he reports,
She is well worthy of eternal siege.
Call forth the guard! muster my troops!
They shall attack the Red Branch instantly!
Battering its walls, till they release my wife!
Away! bid them assault the Mansion, till
The Sons of Usna give her up!

TRENDORN.
I go.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE VI.

A Room in the Mansion of the Red Branch. Naisa and Daidra engaged playing Chess. Ainli and Ardan looking on. Enter Lavercam.
LAVERCAM.
It is not meet for you to be here now,
Playing upon this polished Cabinet,
Which Conor mourned your having taken off,
More than he did the loss of anything,
Except Daidra's self!

DAIDRA.
Then let us cease.
Oh! Lavercam! what is to be our fate?
Can you not tell us why you came?

LAVERCAM.
Alas!
I come, by Conor's dread command, to know
Whether or not your Beauty live upon you,
As it did in days gone by.

DAIDRA.
If so, what then?

LAVERCAM.
Naisa will be slain—you made his wife!

DAIDRA.
Is this determined on by him?

LAVERCAM.
It is.
You have not heard the dreadful deed that is
To be achieved in Eman here this night,
When the three Luminaries of the Gaels
Will all be put to death by Conor's sword?

DAIDRA.
Oh! God! you say not so?

LAVERCAM.
I do indeed!
It will be done this very night!

DAIDRA.
Who told
You so?

LAVERCAM.
Conor himself!

DAIDRA.
Alas! alas!
Naisa! poor Daidra told you so!

NAISA.
You did, dear Princess! but it shall not be.
There is a God above, who knows all things,
And He will save the innocent from harm;
In Him I put my trust.

DAIDRA.
Put not your trust
In treacherous man—for falsehood is his truth;
In God alone is strength—Almighty power—
Eternal trust, that never can betray!
Oh! Lavercam! how glad I am to see
You here! You are our friend indeed—in whom
We put our trust—the Angel of our lives!

LAVERCAM.
Then follow my advice—close all the doors,
And then defend yourselves most valorously,
Till Fergus come—for he will be upon
You straight! Farewell! I go to watch him now.

[Exit.
DAIDRA.
May God Almighty bless you for this deed!

NAISA.
Now, brothers! Sons of Usna, now in Heaven!
Prepare to meet the foe! Gird on your swords!
Take up your shields, that when the hour shall come,
We may be ready to abide the worst!
Oh! God! that ever it should come to this!
That loving—imaging the God of Heaven—
Should be a crime! If God in Heaven is just—
Who is the only King of earth and Heaven—
Then will He cause to triumph what is just—
Hurling the evil down to Hell—the good
Uplifting into Heaven, where all is joy!

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

The Red Branch. Enter Conor attended by Soldiers.
CONOR.
First, kill, then fire the Mansion! Kill them all!
Charge on them, Soldiers! Kill them all at once!
[Exeunt Soldiers.
The red flames tower, like serpent-tongues of fire,
Spitting their hissing venom to the sky!
Hear how the rafters crack, while the red sparks
Of fiery hail snow all the earth around
With one deep Lava-Sea!

[Exit. Shouts without.
Enter Naisa and Daidra.
NAISA.
What shouts are those?
Whence comes that deluge of thick fire, whose glare
Crimsons the very canopy of Heaven—
As if the saintly face of God blushed red
At man's ingratitude? The Red Branch is
On fire!

DAIDRA.
On fire? Yes, yes, it is on fire!
Oh! God! this comes from Conor's treachery!
This comes from Fergus' guarantee! Come, fly!

[Exeunt.
Re-enter Soldiers.
SOLDIERS.
Conor and Ulster! Charge on Usna's Sons!
Sons of a King, who would be King! Charge! Kill—kill
Them all like dogs! Cut off their heads! put out
Their eyes! as they did Trendorn's this sad morn!

[Exeunt Soldiers.
Re-enter Conor, followed by Illan the Fair.
ILLAN.
What! would you break the guarantee of Fergus?
Base Conor! Hell will gnaw thy bones for this!

CONOR.
Now, by the Eternal Gods! will we repay
The Sons of Usna, in their own base coin,
For stealing my Daidra from my arms!

[Exeunt.
Re-enter Naisa and Daidra, attended by Buini.
DAIDRA.
Alas! Fergus has acted traitorously,
And we will all be slain! I told you so!
I told you Conor would prove false! Where is
His guarantee for our protection now!

NAISA.
Here, in the strength of these two arms! Here, in
The conscious rectitude of our own hearts!
This is the mail that God has woven for us
Out of His adamantine steel in Heaven!
If they can break through this, then let them take
The honorable souls that live within!
But, if they do, then there is no more truth,
Nor God, nor Christ, nor Heaven—but all is Hell!
Truths such as these now living in my soul,
With this strong arm, my body for my shield,—
Will I go forth to fight them till I die!
Then, brothers! arm yourselves for fight! Come on!
For Fergus—Conor—all are false!

BUINI.
By Heaven!
If Fergus is, his son will never be!
Now, then, come forth my sword! Charge on them, friends!

[Exeunt omnes, charging on the foe. Alarum.
Re-enter Buini, followed by Conor.
CONOR.
How many hast thou slain?

BUINI.
Thrice fifty men!

CONOR.
A bribe from me to you.

BUINI.
What bribe is that?

CONOR.
A District of rich land.

BUINI.
What else?

CONOR.
My love—
And privacy in counsel.

BUINI.
I consent.

CONOR.
Then come with me! One-half my troops are slain!
The Sons of Usna fight more like damned Fiends,
Or run-mad Devils hot from Hell, than men!
Hark! hark! I hear them now! their fiery swords
Clank to the groanings of the dying men,
Cutting their pathway through our falling ranks
Up to eternal glory on my throne!
They must be stopped, or all is lost! Come on!

[Exeunt.

SCENE VIII.

Another part of the field. Enter Naisa, Ainli, and Ardan.
NAISA.
See! the Ultonians come to fire the house!
Go, Ardan, put it out. I will go forth
With Ainli to destroy three thousand more!
Come forth, dear brother! charge upon the Fiends!

Enter Daidra.
DAIDRA.
Well, by my troth! this is a prosperous day.
How many have you slain?

NAISA.
Three thousand men!
They lie, scattered around, like murrain sheep,
Whitening the earth with their gashed carcasses!
Like foliage of the woods in Autumn time,
Through which some furious Hurricane has passed,
Leaving the giant Oaks all naked to the blast—
So, through that wilderness of men, we passed—
Each Tree of Life shedding its leaves before—
Cutting our pathway up to Fame's dread Mount,
Where stands immortal Liberty, to crown
Our heads with Glory's everlasting bays.

[Exeunt.
Enter Conor.
CONOR.
Where is my own son, Fiacara the Fair?

FIACARA
(entering).
Here, father; here I am.

CONOR.
Ay, by my troth,
My noble boy! Knowest thou not that thou wert born
On the same night with Illan Fin, the Fair?

FIACARA.
As thou hast said, dear father, it must be.

CONOR.
As he has now his father's arms, take mine—
The Ocean, the Victorious, with the Cast,
And the Blue-Green Blade—that is, my Shield—
And my two Javelins and my Sword with you—
And urge great resolution on the field—
Meeting him front to front! If you do fall,
You will fall nobly fighting for the Crown,
And thy dear father's life. If he should fall,
Glory will crown thy head with living Bays,
And After Ages trumpet thee to Heaven!

FIACARA.
Farewell! I go to meet him, face to face—
Who never wages took from mortal man,
Except his father. There does stand not on
The ridge of this great world, a soul more brave!
If I do kill him, I will kill the bravest Man
That ever lived. If he kill me—then he
Will kill one who was brave enough to fight
With him! So let this be my Epitaph!
Farewell!

[Exit.
CONOR.
May all the Gods defend thy steps!

[Exit.
Enter Daidra, meeting Illan the Fair.
DAIDRA.
Where is Naisa?

ILLAN.
Safe—triumphant still!
Swift, like an Eagle among Crows, or Jove
Among the Infernal Gods, so charged he on
To Victory—Victory, doubly glorious,
Because so doubly dear!

DAIDRA.
Thank God for that!
But where is Conor?

ILLAN.
Fighting still—for life!
He seems like Lucifer let loose from Hell,
To make a bonfire of the bleeding World!

Enter Naisa.
DAIDRA.
Buini the Ruthless Red, has been false!

NAISA.
Let him be false, then—a father-like son.
But we are true—true to ourselves—to God!
What more could Angels be?

DAIDRA.
No more.
Thou hast been more than Angel unto me.

ILLAN.
By all the Gods in Heaven! we are like Gods!
They fell before us like the Harvest ripe,
Before the Reaper's sickle-edge! Now let
The Devil gather up his cockle-tails,
And shock them down in Hell for Monuments,
To preach forever of their overthrow!

NAISA.
Oh! Illan! this has been a bloody day!

ILLAN.
The Sun seems setting now in blood, God's sign
That even to-morrow will be bloodier still!

NAISA.
Like the great King of Glory, newly stabbed,
Climbing with labor now the bending sky—
Wiping the crimson baptism from his brow,
Then sprinkling it against the Doors of Heaven;
So rose the Sun, this morning, drenched in blood—
Until the clouds, his garments, rent in twain,
Wept crimson drops of rain to see him bleed!

ILLAN.
Let the day come—we are prepared for it.
'Tis not the day makes man, but man the day.
For never, while my heart beats in my breast,
Will I be false to Usna's Sons.

NAISA.
Nor they to thee.

ILLAN.
Then let us make three circuits round the Court,
And slay all that we meet!

NAISA.
We will. Come on!
To reap another harvest for the Crows—
Trusting in God's great power within our arms.
On—on, brave Illan, for another fight!

[Exeunt.

SCENE IX.

A Tract of Land. Enter Caffa the Druid and Buini the Ruthless Red.
BUINI.
This is the tract of land that Conor gave
To me.

CAFFA.
For what?

BUINI.
Betraying Usna's Sons.

CAFFA.
But then, what need have you for so much land?

BUINI.
For a possession.

CAFFA.
Yet, what need have you?

BUINI.
What need has Conor for his land?

CAFFA.
No need—
Only to show him where his grave is dug—
As thine is now, in Hell!

BUINI.
Why so? what now?

CAFFA.
The wrong that he has done to Usna's Sons,
Shall sink him down as low as to the Fiends!
Where thou shalt sink for joining him in sin!
The land that thou didst purchase from that Fiend,
Shall be transformed into a moor this night!
Nay, by the wafture of this Rod, shall now
Be swallowed up in one great Sea of Wrath—
Beneath whose raging waves thou shalt be drowned—
Finding no grave!

BUINI
(falling on his knees).
For God's sake, do not do it!
Have mercy on my soul!

CAFFA.
What mercy did
You show great Usna's Sons? Such as you showed
To them, I now will show to thee! From this
Day forth, this District shall be known as false
Buini's Moor!

BUINI.
Oh! God! have mercy on me!

CAFFA.
Now, as the Red Sea swallowed Pharaoh's host,
So shalt thou sink, by God's great wrath, to Hell!
Now, sink, Buini! sink through death to Hell!
[Caffa waves his Rod, and the land becomes inundated with water, in which Buini sinks, alternately rising and sinking, until borne out of sight.
So fell the Sons of God, by Sin, from Heaven!

[Exit. Scene changes.

SCENE X.

Another part of the field. Enter Fiacara to Illan the Fair.
FIACARA.
Friend Illan! know you not that we were born
On the same day?

ILLAN.
I've heard my father say so.

FIACARA.
Then we are of one age—though not of power.

ILLAN.
Thou mayst well say that, else we were now but one;
And should not fight because of being two.

FIACARA.
Thou hast thy father's sword—I mine. Now, then,
The World shall know who is the better man.

ILLAN.
That can be known only to God in Heaven—
Therefore, unknown to any in this world.

FIACARA.
Make no equivocation—for the time
Has come when we shall see who first leaves time.

ILLAN.
That sight is for the living—not the dead.
The one who stays must see the one go out.

FIACARA.
The time has come when I shall see that sight.

ILLAN.
Not if my eyesight does not fail me soon.

FIACARA.
The Night is coming, when no man shall see.

ILLAN.
Some see better by night than by the day—
There being those who cannot see at all.

FIACARA.
The Shades of Death are passing on thee now!

ILLAN.
To the true soul there are no Shades of Death;
But what you call Death-Shades, is light from Heaven—
The light of God's eternal smiles.

FIACARA.
Your voice
Sounds like the voice of one from Heaven, heard in
The joy of Dreams. But still we have to fight;
For I have pledged my soul never to leave
This field till one of us is slain.

ILLAN.
Well, thou wilt keep thy promise, if we fight.

FIACARA.
There is no if we fight—for we must fight.

ILLAN.
Then, if we must, we must. But have you sworn
To marry Death to-day, that you thus rush
Into her arms?

FIACARA.
To marry Death or Life—
One or the other. So, Chop-logic, you
Must chop me up, or I will chop you down.

ILLAN.
I never hack; I always cut.

FIACARA.
Come on!

ILLAN.
I come—as Death said unto Life—I come!
And, as I come, so fades before my sword
The life of Fiacara!

[They fight. Fiacara falls.
FIACARA.
Gods! he has
Me down!

ILLAN.
Never to rise again!

FIACARA.
Oh! God!
Have mercy on me! help me! help! help! help!
Oh! father! father! here on earth—in Heaven!
Have mercy on your son!

ILLAN.
Now I will let
Thee up, to show thee I can put thee down
Again!

FIACARA
(rising).
But not until you kill me first!

[Exeunt fighting.
Enter Conal Carnach. Alarums without.
CONAL CARNACH.
What sound was that? That was the fatal Shield
Of Ocean—Conor's iron Shield! But hark!
I hear the three great Waves of Erin roar—
The Wave of Clinda with the Wave of Thoth,
And the still darker Wave of Rory roar,
Responsive to the roar of Conor's Shield!
For it is fatal for his shield to roar!
Then was it meet that I should tarry there—
At Dunsobarke—he in danger here?
No, I will go to him! Come forth, my Sword!
[Alarums.
I hear again the repercussive clang
Of the great Gong of Ocean—Conor's Shield—
With voice altitonant loud as the Gods—
Like the unfolding of Heaven's iron Scroll—
Revealing the great Judgment Day of God!
Whose Carybantine waves, far seething wake
Multitudinous echoes in the far
Off fields of space—as if some mighty Star,
Bursting in seething thunders from its sphere,
Had, with its ponderous hammer, tolled upon
The azure Bell of Heaven the death of Time!
[Alarums.
Gods! how it roars! He calls for me! I come!
Now, then, Illan the Fair! prepare to die!
For Conal Carnach comes! I come! I come!

[Exit.

SCENE XI.

Another part of the field. Fiacara and Illan the Fair are discovered fighting. Fiacara falls. Enter Conal Carnach.
FIACARA.
Have mercy on my soul!

CONAL CARNACH.
How now? What is
The matter here? King Conor on the ground.
The king upon his back? the ruffian here,
Grasping his throat? then, by the Gods! he dies!
Now let him rise!

[Stabs Illan in the back.
ILLAN.
Who stabbed me in the back?
Oh! God! then I am slain!—had he but met
Me face to face, he had not done me so!

CONAL CARNACH.
Who is it that I see? I know his voice!

ILLAN.
Poor Illan Fin!

CONAL CARNACH.
Illan the Fair?

ILLAN.
The same!
Gods! art thou Conal? See what you have done!
A dreadful deed, when Usna's Sons were here
Under my own protection too!

CONAL CARNACH.
What! is
It so? Then I have done a dreadful deed—
But did it innocently!

ILLAN.
You did; but it
Is done!

CONAL CARNACH.
Then, by the Gods! Conor's own son
Shall pay for it! Now, Vengeance! seize his soul!

[Stabs Fiacara.
FIACARA.
Oh! Conal! may God damn thy soul for this!

[Dies.
Enter Naisi, Ainli, and Ardan, in haste.
NAISA.
What have we here? Oh! God! is Illan dead?
Is Illan slain? speak to me, Illan! speak,
My friend! Who did this deed?

ILLAN.
My friend and yours!

NAISA.
My friend? a friend do this? a friend slay you,
My friend? Tell me who did this deed! Oh! God!
Tell me, before you die, who did this deed!

ILLAN.
Brave Conal Carnach!

NAISA.
What! our friend?

CONAL CARNACH.
Thy friend—
Thy truest friend!

NAISA.
My friend? Dare you say that,
And slay the dearest friend I have on earth?
Then, by my God! your blood shall pay for it!

ILLAN.
No! hold, Naisa! hold! 'twas done in haste!
Not done intentionally—by accident!
But I am growing weak!—my voice is gone!
And I must go, now, too!—Oh! God! look down!
The Shades of Death are gathering round my soul!
Naisa! my dear friend! be resolute!
Be Lions in the bloody path against
The treacherous wolves that howl around us now!
Let the last breath of Illan's parting soul
Inspire you with new courage, till you charge
To victory, over the prostrate forms
Of the perjured Tyrant's Myrmidons—the false
And cowardly Conor! Gods! I have to die!
And may as well die now as any time!
Farewell! I go to prepare a place for you
In the sweet Eman of Macha of God!
Farewell, Daidra! Angel of our souls;
And all the divine Sons of Usna,—now
A long farewell! I'm going a long way—
Never to return!—to Avalon, that happy land—
Where there is neither rain, nor hail, nor snow;
But one eternal spring of sweet delights,
Where joys immortal reign!—Farewell!

[Dies.
NAISA.
Farewell! dear Illan! faithful friend—farewell!
I will be true to thy last trust, or come
On quickly after thee to tell our fate.
Farewell! may you ride up into heaven in
A Chariot of bright Angels—those redeemed
And ever faithful Sons of Erin lost!
Now, by the light that radiates from his face,
I think he sees God's Angels coming down
To bear him up to Heaven! He who was once
Illan the Fair, is now Illan the Blest!

[Exit.—Scene closes.

SCENE XII.

Another part of the field. Enter Caffa, meeting Conor.
CONOR.
Gods! Caffa! this is terrible work indeed!
Can you not something do for us?

CAFFA.
Do what?

CONOR.
Work some enchantment on them for my sake,
That we be not destroyed.

CAFFA.
I can, indeed;
But, then, what guarantee have I that you
Will not prove treacherous to them afterwards—
Wreaking eternal vengeance on their heads?

CONOR.
A kinsman's solemn word pledged on my soul.

CAFFA.
Are the Ultonians routed from the field?

CONOR.
They are—all but the slain!

CAFFA.
How many have
Been slain?

CONOR.
More than the sands upon the sea!
Come, Kinsman! we are burning daylight here!
Even now they seek my life! Can you not do
Something for us? If so, by Heaven! I will
Exalt you to the highest power on earth!
Besides confer on them eternal joy.

CAFFA.
Swear, then, to me, by all your hopes of Heaven,
That you will never more prove false to them,
But forever remain what you are now—
True to the latest moment of your life—
And I will work enchantment on the Sons.

CONOR.
I swear, by all my hopes of Heaven, I will!

CAFFA.
But, proving false, the pains of Hell are thine!

CONOR.
This is my solemn oath!

CAFFA.
Then mark my word—
If you prove false, as I do now to them,
So will I do to you, but more at large.

CONOR.
Heaven knows I will prove true to them!

CAFFA.
Where now
Your solemn oath is registered! If you
Prove false to them, not only shall Heaven's wrath,
But mine, be poured upon you hot from Hell!

CONOR.
Which, if I do, I hope to Heaven it may!

CAFFA.
Then go with me. By wafture of this Rod,
By which Ezekiel measured the great walls
Of the Holy City, I can command
A viscid sea of whelming waves to roll
Beneath their feet, bearing them out of sight,
As though they were so many Ships of Life
Departing from this world to Heaven!—Come on.

[Exeunt.

SCENE XIII.

A Sea is discovered, against which the Sons of Usna struggle, but are borne along powerless.
CONOR.
Are they now powerless?

CAFFA.
They are—bereft
Of strength.

CONOR.
Command their swords to fall from them,
Or the Ultonians—none of us—are safe!
[They pass out.
Subdue the waters; make it now dry land.
This is the Land of Maintenance I gave
To Buini the Ruthless Red.

CAFFA.
It is;
But now the Waters of Destruction to his soul!

Enter Buini floundering in the waves.
CONOR.
Who is that drowning in the waves?

CAFFA.
'Tis he!
Vile Pharaoh in the ruthless Red Sea drowned!

CONOR.
For God's sake, save him! save him for my sake!

CAFFA.
No—he is lost!—forever lost in the deep
Wide gulf of everlasting ruin! This is
The dread reward which Heaven bestows on all
Who deal by treachery! God is more just
Than man!

CONOR.
I see it now! I see it all!
All—all is lost!

CAFFA.
From this day forth, it shall
Be called Buini's Moor!

CONOR.
Was it for this
You roused the waves?

CAFFA.
It was for this alone!

CONOR.
But have the Sons of Usna perished too?

CAFFA.
If they have ever done you wrong, or me!

CONOR.
Then they are powerful as ever still?

CAFFA.
Powerful as ever to resent all wrong.

CONOR.
Then, farewell! I must go to save my life!

[Exit.
CAFFA.
Thus do I, with the Magic of my power,
Raise up this raging Sea, in which his soul
Can see its evil deeds as in a glass.
The bad man's mirror is the Lake of Hell,
In which his soul is seen begrimed with sin.
The good man's glass is Christ's celestial face,
Wherein is mirrored, as in seas at calm,
The bright stars of the all-embracing Heavens,—
His gentle thoughts baptized in dews of peace.

[Exit.

SCENE XIV.

Another part of the field. Enter Conor, attended by his Soldiers and Manani, the Rough Hand, meeting the Sons of Usna, attended by the Sons of Dura.
CONOR.
Charge on them, Soldiers! seize upon the Sons!
Where are the Sons of Dura?

SONS OF DURA.
Here we are.

CONOR.
Seize on the Sons of Usna!

SONS OF DURA.
We will not;
But here defend them with our lives!

CONOR.
Beware!
Be wary of my power! The day will come
When you will curse this present hour!

SONS OF DURA.
Thee too!

CONOR.
Where is Manani, King of Norway's Son?
The mighty Hercules with his iron hands?

MANANI.
Great Sovereign! I am here.

CONOR.
Come close to me.
Who slew thy father? Know you not the man?

MANANI.
I do, great King! Naisa was the man.

CONOR.
Who slew thy brothers, Atha and Traitha too?

MANANI.
Naisa was the man?

CONOR.
Then take revenge
Upon them for that mighty deed—for God
Has spoken, “Blood for blood!”

MANANI.
I will, great King!
Obedient to thy orders, take their lives!
For I do long to kill them as to live.

CONOR.
Then take them—they are thine. Revenge thyself!

ARDAN.
If that be so, then let me be killed first;
For I am the youngest of the three.

AINLI.
Not so.
I cannot live to see my brother slain,
And he the youngest, tenderest of us all.
I will be slain the first.

NAISA.
It shall not be.
I cannot live to see my brother slain
Before my face—the eldest of the three.
So, let me die the first, as I was born
Before.

CONOR.
Then let him die.

NAISA.
Here, take this sword.
Mananan, who was Neptune of the Sea,
And Hercules of the Land—the Son of Lear—
Bequeathed it, on his deathbed, unto me.
It is of heavenly temper, forged, of old,
By adamantine hammers, in the fires
Of Heaven, by Angels' hands; then tempered in
Celestial rivers, for immortal deeds.
When wielded by an honest hand, it leaves
Behind it no remains of stroke, or blow,
But yields the subject, as an Angel dies,
Without or blood or wound, parting the soul
And body asunder, never more to unite!
With this same sword let us be slain at once.
As we have lived in life, so let us die—
United, never more to part.

CONOR.
Yes, take
The sword! They're worthy to be slain by it—
Falling beneath the blade that they have slain
So many noble souls withal; for Kings
Should die by noble instruments—not fall
By Butcher's steel. Therefore, Manani, smite
Their heads off at one blow!

MANANI.
Come forth, great Sword!
This is a gift from all the Gods at once—
Sent down from Heaven to me, this day, to take
Revenge for my dear father—brothers—slain!
Thou who dost sit enthroned above the world,
Watching the daily actions of all men,
And dealing out to all their due reward—
To the good man good—the evil his own deeds!
Great Gods! how I do thank you for this gift!
This hour, of all my life, is sweetest to my soul!
Now will I make amends for all the Past.
Foul murderer of my father, brothers—die!

[He strikes them, and they fall.
SONS OF DURA.
Foul murderer of the Sons of Usna—die!
[They kill Manani, and he falls. Conor rushes out.
Ten thousand curses fall on Conor's head! Pile up
The vengeance on his soul as high as Heaven!
For they have slain, this day, before our eyes,
The mightiest sons that ever lived! Brave men—
Kings of a King! more like the King of Heaven,
Than Kings of Men! Now! let us take revenge—
Swift vengeance on them all! Come—on! on! on!

[Exeunt.
Enter Daidra.
DAIDRA.
Oh! God! what do I see? Naisa dead?
The Sons of Usna slain? What has become
Of God, that He would suffer this? Alas!
Then I will die with them! here will I lie,
Until the Angel comes to take me home,
Where they are gone, to live forever more!
Now I remember how Naisa kissed
Darthula, one day sleeping in his Tent,
Which made me jealous—wrought upon me so—
I grew distracted on account of it!
Putting my little skiff upon the wave,
I started back for Erin's Isle alone;
For I was then indifferent of my life.
Now I am sorry that I acted so.
Oh! were she here, would she not weep with me,
Great drops of blood, to see them lying here—
Dead on the ground? I know she would! she would!
Naisa! husband of my youth! how long
Will be this night to me! how long will be
All future days without thy heavenly love!
For one year here is longer, left alone,
Than all eternity with thee in Heaven!
The Sons of Usna dead! they are not dead!
How could they die? how could such goodness die?
Three Lions from Huama's Hill—three Falcons fair
On Culan's Mount—Great Caffa's daughter's sons!
Three Red Branch Heroes—Dragons from the Fort
Of Monad—fosterlings by Otho reared—
Schooled by fair Aify, in the Isle of Skye,
With Conlach, by Cuchullan, her first son,
And Conal Carnach, mighty men of War!
Naisa, who was all the world to me,
Now, being dead, I have no other world!
Having no world, why should I wish to live?
To live without my world, is living death!
Then I can never live—for I must die!
He being dead, the world is now my grave!
As being where he lived was all my life!
Then, when the Sexton comes to dig his grave,
I'll make him dig two graves for us in one!
Then—then, to think it was for me he died!
This makes the loss of him far bitterer still!
Oh! God! should I not hold him doubly dear?
I should! I will! I will forever more!—
No, I will not lie here—I will arise
And go, from place to place, until I find
Some one who will revenge his death for me!
Cuchullan comes!
Enter Cuchullan.
Oh! my dear friend! look at
Naisa lying here dead on the ground!

CUCHULLAN.
Naisa dead? Murdered? Who did this deed?

DAIDRA.
Manani! Conor's bloody dog—set on
By Conor!

CUCHULLAN.
Gods! can it be possible?
Naisa dead? Where is Manani now?

DAIDRA.
In Hell! sent there by Dura's noble Sons.

CUCHULLAN.
May God in Heaven reward them for the deed!
For they have saved me from the Devil's death!
But where is Conor?

DAIDRA.
God Almighty knows.
Fled—gone to Eman, where he celebrates
Their death, before his Nobles, with such pomp,
Quaffing his wine, as makes the Devils laugh
In Hell—shaking the rafters with their shouts—
Carousing all night long, in riotous
Excess, exulting in their overthrow—
Rejoicing that Naisa is in Heaven!
Oh! God! Cuchullan! what are we to do
To take revenge upon them for this deed?
This hellish, devilish, damned, matchless deed!

CUCHULLAN.
Revenge! revenge upon them all! for there
Was not, upon the face of this wide world,
Three mightier men of war than these same Sons!
All my dear friends—now lying here in death!
Naisa was the dearest friend I had—
Dear as the blood that circles through my heart—
Now aching for his loss. Now he is gone—
Never to walk upon this world again!

DAIDRA.
They were to death ingloriously betrayed
By the foul lying lips of Conor—he
Who broke his guarantee to damn his soul!

CUCHULLAN.
Damned be his soul! for he is doubly damned—
Damned here on earth—forever more in Hell!
Here lies our utmost hope in hopeless death!
The Prince of Princes, King of all our Kings—
Gone, like the golden Sun, setting in clouds,
Behind the Mountains of Eternity—
To rise no more!—no more to shine on earth!
Thus, Glory, Honor, Riches, sink to Death,
Like bubbles on the sea, not knowing there
Were ever bubbles there; or, as the rain
Melts on the waves, not knowing there was rain!
He who was, yesterday, so rich in life—
So opulent in Heaven's rare gifts, that even
The Angels might have envied him his wealth—
Is now—(Death having robbed him of his all)—
Too poor to call himself himself! his soul,
That was himself, having left his body here
Bereft of everything but hopeless Death!

DAIDRA.
You were their cousin—will you not avenge
Their death?

CUCHULLAN.
By Heaven! I will do all that man
Can do—to take revenge upon them all!

DAIDRA.
Then do so now—it will not do to wait!
Rouse all the troops to vengeance! while he sleeps,
Drunk with the opiate of last night's debauch,—
Weary with long carousing in his Halls—
That should be now the Palace of the dead—
Sack the black Mansion that contains his soul,
Blacker than Erebus—setting the Vulture free—
Gorged with the flesh of Kings, out of this world—
To make his eyrie with the fowls of Hell!

CUCHULLAN.
I will! by Heaven! I will go now! But where
Is Fergus?

DAIDRA.
Fergus! traitor that he is—
With Barach, feasting, while the Sons, he swore,
Before Almighty God, to see returned
Safely to Eman, are now lying here,
Baptized in their own blood—dead on the ground!
Call not his cursed name to me again,
For he is falser far than Conor is!

CUCHULLAN.
Then I will go to Mevia; she will help.
Meantime have them interred by righteous hands,
Under the Willows on Ardsellach's Heights—
Nature's green Band of weeping Niobes—
Whose sorrows shall return with every Spring—
Perennial as the eternal years of God—
Where all the world can see their Monument!

DAIDRA.
I will. Caffa, the Druid, shall be there
To preach their funeral sermon—there to wake
New fires of vengeance in his hearers' hearts!

CUCHULLAN.
Stay till he comes. Tell him to lay them out—
Mantling their bodies in his robes of snow,
To Emblem their pure souls, white now as Birds
Of Paradise, singing on Eden-trees
Among the enraptured Hosts of Heaven! Farewell!
[Exit Cuchullan.

DAIDRA.
Here lies my Cedar, broken by the Storm—
Taller than any on Ardsellach's Heights;
While over him his faithful Willow weeps
Eternal tears of sorrow for his fall!
The dearest joy she ever had on earth!
More dear than all the living world could be,
Had they ten thousand brighter worlds than this!
Farewell! oh! God! how bitter is that word!
Too bitter! yet it must be said! Farewell!
For, oh! the love that made me wish him well
While living, makes me wish him so now dead!
Now do I know that he is gone to Heaven,
For now do spring up all around his form,
Celestial flowers, immortal in their bloom.
Why should I tarry here, now he is there?
I will not stay! I cannot stay away from Heaven!

Enter Fergus.
FERGUS.
Come, do not weep! but go with me. All shall
Be well. This Cedar, you see lying here,
Broken by an untimely storm—shall sprout
Again, next Spring, out of his grave in earth,
Into the tallest Tree of all the woods.

[Exit.
Enter Caffa.
CAFFA.
What is the matter here?

DAIDRA.
Death! death! death!

CAFFA.
What! are the Sons of Usna dead?

DAIDRA.
Dead! dead!

CAFFA.
Who did this dreadful deed?

DAIDRA.
Manani did—
By Conor's dread command!

CAFFA.
Oh! damnéd fiend!
Against his solemn guarantee?

DAIDRA.
Oh! God!
Talk not of guarantees!

CAFFA.
His solemn oath—
Pronounced in presence of the eternal God!

DAIDRA.
What does he care for God! He has no God!

CAFFA.
Vile, perjured villain! may his soul be damned
In Hell forever more!

DAIDRA.
As now on earth,
So will he be in Hell forever more!

CAFFA.
When were they slain?

DAIDRA.
Just now—are not yet cold!

CAFFA.
But how? By what? Did they not use the Sword
I gave to them, owned by the Son of Lear,
Which had no power to wound such noble souls?

DAIDRA.
I know not that. I was not here to see.
I only know that they are dead forever more!

CAFFA.
That sword was tempered in celestial fires,
Forged out by adamantine hammers, in
The hands of Angels, for immortal deeds!
Naisa pledged me they would use that sword—
For Conor had divulged to me his wish
That they should die by it. Had they done so,
They would be living now—for, in its edge,
There was no power to harm great Usna's Sons—
Having been tempered in the fires of Heaven,
Which are the Fountains of celestial love.

DAIDRA.
Oh! God! you say not so?

CAFFA.
I do indeed.
Here is the sword—grasped in Manani's hand—
He cold in death!

DAIDRA.
By Sons of Dura slain!

CAFFA
(taking up the sword).
Now will I work enchantment on the dead,
And, if my power be equal to my love,
They will return to life again.

DAIDRA.
Then do—
For God's sake, do! Restore them back to life,
And I will praise you while my life has breath!

CAFFA
(working enchantment—celestial music heard).
Naisa! rise! awake! come forth!

DAIDRA.
He stirs!
He lives! my husband lives! he breathes! he wakes
Oh! God! thank God! thank God! he lives! he lives!
Now do I know that man has power like God.
[They rise.
Here, let me kiss him—love him ever more!
Give me thy hands, dear Ainli, Ardan too!
What will Darthula say to this?

NAISA.
We live!
Now, then, for action! how we may succeed
In razing Eman to the ground!

CAFFA.
It stands!
So let it stand, the theatre of the day
When Usna shall be crowned as Erin's King.
But if you will pull down—pull Conor down!
A rotten temple, threatening now to fall—
Crushing us in his fall! So pull him down—
And bury his foul timbers in the Sea!
Let not one stone upon another stand—
But grinding up his bones to powdered dust,
Scatter them on the four great winds of Heaven,
Till they be all dispersed throughout the world—
Finding no resting-place on land or sea!

NAISA.
But how shall this be done?

CAFFA.
Be done? By that
Same matchless power, which now belongs alone
To Usna's Sons!

NAISA.
We will exert that power!
Now, then, to conquer Conor, or to die—
Then wear the crown he has usurped from us!
Look down from Heaven, ye everliving Gods!
Who watch above the souls of righteous men!
Breathe into mine that supernatural power
Which once did animate the men of old,
And fit me to achieve my greatest work!

CAFFA.
This is my Malediction—that from this
Day forth, never, through all succeeding time,
Into the bosom of Eternity—
Shall Conor prosper in the sight of men,
Nor Eman flourish, till great Usna's Sons
Sit on the throne!

DAIDRA.
God grant that day, I pray!

[Exeunt.
Curtain Falls.

ACT V.

SCENE I.

A Private Apartment in the Palace of the King of Duntrone. Enter King and Darthula, his daughter.
DARTHULA.
Oh! God! dear father! let me kneel to thee!
Have mercy on me! do not have me slain!
But pity me! have mercy on my soul!
I am your child—your first-born, only child!
Blood of your blood—bone of your bone—whose life
You have the power to take away from me,
But will not, I do trust in God in Heaven!

KING.
Trust not—thy life is forfeited! for thou
Hast done a deed worthy of death!

DARTHULA.
Oh! no,
Dear father! loving cannot be the deed
Of death, but living. I should live for that!
As it was love which made you put her there,
So, it was love which made me set her free.

KING.
You said you loved your father better far—
Why did you do it then?

DARTHULA.
Partly for love
Of her, because she was Naisa's wife—
(Knowing how I had thanked her for the same)—
And partly that I loved his brother so.

KING.
Whose brother?

DARTHULA.
Ardan—one of Usna's Sons.

KING.
Ah! now I see it all. Then you do tower
Far out of sight—above all power of thought—
In wickedness! Where saw you Usna's Son?

DARTHULA.
Here, at my own dear home.

KING.
Vile traitress!
Did you not know they were my enemies?

DARTHULA.
No, but true friends—thy truest friends.

KING.
My friends?
Who told you so?

DARTHULA.
The youngest—Ardan called.
They are the enemies of Ulster's King—
Thine enemy—usurper of their throne;
For they are Kings—Sons of a King by birth—
All having sworn never to rest again,
Till they have wrested from his hands their crown.
I tell thee, father! they are friends to thee—
Would join thee here, this day, against thy foe,
Wouldst thou but say the word.

KING.
How know you this?

DARTHULA.
From Ardan's lips—who never spoke but truth.

KING.
Confirm these words by sending them to me,
Where I can hear them from their own proud lips,
And I revoke the sentence of thy death!

DARTHULA.
I will—I pledge my life that he will tell
You what I say—perform what he will pledge—
And all for my sole sake, if nothing more.

KING.
Then you are pardoned. Bring him here this night,
And all my former love returns again;
But if you fail, you are no child of mine.

DARTHULA.
If I do not perform, I would not be.

KING.
Then I am thy dear father still.

DARTHULA.
Thank God!
As mountains were uplifted from the Vales
By God's great will—leaving the Vales behind;
So does this towering Tree of Good spring up
From evil soil.

KING.
I sowed the seeds—you reaped
The golden fruit.

DARTHULA.
A Diamond crop—great Usna's Son.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A Private Apartment in the Palace of the Queen of Connaught. Enter Ainli to the Queen.
AINLI.
Most noble Queen! we come to ask your aid
Against the foul usurper of our throne—
Who perjured his foul soul in sight of Heaven,
By forfeiting his solemn guarantee,
Pledged unto Fergus for our safe return.

QUEEN.
Were you not exiled to the Isle of Skye?

AINLI.
We were, great Queen! where we had stayed, had not
The noble Fergus come to bring us back,
Promising our safe return.

QUEEN.
But you did come—
For you are here.

AINLI.
Came under Conor's oath,
That we should live untramelled on return;
Instead, no sooner had we landed there,
Than troops were sent to tear the Red Branch down,
Or brave Naisa's wife delivered up to him.
They came—we fought—the Red Branch set on fire—
Making the day in night by which we fought—
Leaving his troops by thousands dead on field!

QUEEN.
Where are your brothers now?

AINLI.
Waiting for my
Return, to make another onslaught on
The remnant who now guard the Lion's Den.

QUEEN.
But where is Conor?

AINLI.
Housed at home—the fiend
Mustering his Myrmidons to strike new death
Into the heart of glorious Liberty,
Waiting with anxious expectation now
At Eman for his final overthrow.

QUEEN.
This hope achieved, who is to be your King?

AINLI.
Naisa, Son of Usna.

QUEEN.
None more fit.
Who of Naisa's troops were slain?

AINLI.
Brave souls;
Illan the Fair was one.

QUEEN.
Is Illan dead?

AINLI.
Illan the Fair is dead! his righteous soul
Ascending into Heaven through the great wound
Made in his heart by Conal Carnach's sword!

QUEEN.
By Conal Carnach's sword? Why, they were friends!

AINLI.
True friends—one by the other slain!

QUEEN.
Alas!

AINLI.
Upon his heaving body, prone on earth,
It sate awhile, doubting to fly, or not,
As on Christ's shoulder sat the Holy Ghost,
Sounding the Bath Kol of the opening Heavens!
When, like some snow-white Dove, frightened from earth,
From the green pyramid of some tall Pine,
Now prostrate on the earth, blown down by storms,
Never to sprout again—so soared his soul—
His God-like soul—out of his body there,
Exultant in the embrace of the Heavens;
While Ministering Angels, clothed in robes of fire,
Came pressing downward through the opening Gates,
Ready to convey him, with shouts, to God!

QUEEN.
If no one else had died, your loss had been,
Indeed, irreparable!

AINLI.
Truly so—
It cannot be repaired; for he was one
Who had no brother in this world.

QUEEN.
Yes, yes—
Buini was his brother. Where is he?

AINLI.
Dead! gone to Hell, where all such traitors go!
Drowned in the District changed into a Sea,
Which Conor gave him for his treachery—
Drowned on the very night he gave it him,
By God's Almighty wrath, sent down from Heaven!
Caffa the Druid naming it Buini's Moor—
Thus to be called through all eternity!

QUEEN.
Most righteous Heaven! an awful doom indeed!
What do you wish?

AINLI.
The aid of all your troops,
Until the tyrant reaps his just reward,
When we will seat Naisa on the throne.

QUEEN.
But what will you repay me for this aid?

AINLI.
My hand—in whose soft palm my gracious heart
Lies panting with celestial joy to know
That you cannot refuse the proffered boon;
But, by the interchange, reap mutual joys.

QUEEN.
But you bestow unasked.

AINLI.
The only gift
Worth having; real gifts are thus bestowed—
All others being false—or given for gain.
True love is always given unasked—because,
It being the Image of God's love in Heaven,
Flows down just like his bounty—free as rain.
So let mine moisten this immortal flower.

QUEEN.
My troops are thine. My hand—that is mine own,
Which I will give to whom I please—no one
Except the one I love—the one who clasps it now.

AINLI.
Embracing now, clasped in each other's arms,
To emblem our eternal love in Heaven—
Where we shall meet again in marriage after death.

QUEEN.
You echo but the voice of mine own soul.
Thou art my Husband-King!

AINLI.
Thou my Queen-wife!
I cannot magnify my mode of utterance
Into the embrace of my boundless love!

QUEEN.
That you deserve the reverence of the Gods,
With Godlike speech you woo your worshipper.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Private Apartment in the Palace of the King of Duntrone. Enter Ardan, to the King.
ARDAN.
We come to ask assistance of your troops
Against the foul Usurper of our throne.

KING.
The tyrant Conor?

ARDAN.
Conor, gracious King.

KING.
But after his dethronement, who will sit
On Ulster's throne?

ARDAN.
The Sons of Usna will—
Three brothers—jointly reigning—thus to rule.

KING.
Of whose fraternal Trinity you will
Be one?

ARDAN.
I will; three Scions of a King,
We should know how to rule—having the power.

KING.
But who will be thy Queen? there should be three—
An equal number with the Kings.

ARDAN.
There should;
Thy daughter, fair Darthula, being mine.

KING.
My troops are thine—my daughter too. I will
Be there to lead them on. Come on.

ARDAN.
I will.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

An Apartment in the Palace of Eman of Macha. Enter Barach to Conor.
BARACH.
I have come most sorrowful news to tell!

CONOR.
What news is that? More traitors in the camp?

BARACH.
Ulster is dead!

CONOR.
What! Ulster dead?

BARACH.
Dead—dead,
Great King!

CONOR.
Then we have cause to weep indeed;
For he was truly great—great in all things,
Except the full fruition of his hopes.
He was a mighty builder of great thoughts,
Whose monumental majesty did loom
Like mountains of pure Beauty up to Heaven—
Valhalla-halls piled up by God's great hands
For Heroes' souls—not mortal men like us!
But they lived ideal only in his soul—
Not having realized them in rich works.
He had all that could make a man a Man,
Except this one—he was no King—no King.
A Prince he was of Princes; but no King.
He wanted action—action was his want—
A life of use proportioned to his thoughts!
A living, acting, working day of works—
Moving majestic like some mighty stream;
Then would his goings forth have been like songs
Of thunder from the Sun, whose tones are fire—
Thrilling the high-uplifted stars with storms of joy.
But for this want, he would have been to me
The mightiest man that ever lived on earth.
So, having realized no Ideals here,
He now is gone to realize in Heaven—
Where he can build proportioned to his thoughts.

BARACH.
He was too mighty for this world; there was
Not ground enough for him to build upon.

CONOR.
No; for his Ideal covered all the world—
Continents, Kingdoms, everything in space.

BARACH.
Eternity was in his eyes. I saw them,
Like two living wells of heavenly truth,
Unfathomable as night, but full of day—
When Usna's Sons Daidra bore away—
Weep pearls that might have purchased suns—
Springs from the peerless Amber of his soul—
In which there were no grains but purest gold.

CONOR.
Yet, he is gone! Then let us mourn for him!
But this were worthless work for such great souls—
An argument that we believe him dead,
When he does live—a God among the Gods.
It were impossible for him to die.

BARACH.
Then let us sorrow not, nor weep, nor pine,
For who would sorrow for the blest in Heaven?
I do not think, myself, that he could die,
But was translated out of time to Heaven,
Like Enoch or Elijah was.

CONOR.
He lives!
There are some men were never born to die,
But are projected out of time to Heaven—
Exalted (as they first came down on earth)
In the rapt trance-swoons of ecstatic bliss—
Sublimed to glory through victorious love—
As though a man should grow into a God,
And there stand Apotheosized, God-crowned—
Another Sun—blotting the first from Heaven.

Enter Servitor.
SERVITOR.
Great King! I have most sorrowful news to tell!
Your royal beast is dead!

CONOR.
My Lion dead?

SERVITOR.
He is, great King! He died last night. They say
An Eagle, flying over Eman's plain,
Was, yesterday, brought down to earth, by some
One hunting on your grounds; its wings, when stretched,
Wanting three inches, spread three yards in length.

CONOR.
Go—bury, then, the royal beast. Dig deep
His Grave—an Emblem of great Ulster's soul.
[Exit Servitor.
A royal beast should have a royal grave.
For Royalty to die, methinks the Sun
In Heaven should put on sackcloth—feel as we do now—
A royal sorrow, far too deep for tears!
Therefore we will not weep for him; for tears
Are woman's weeds; but smile, that our great loss
Is his eternal gain. So do the Heavens
When some new Star is born; filling the sky
With thunders of melodious joy, as we
Should at his Apotheosis in Heaven.

BARACH.
Ay, as he died, so let us live—in smiles.

CONOR.
Did he die smiling?

BARACH.
So they say, great King.

CONOR.
A presage that our life is to be sad.
For we are told the Grecian Painter drew
The mourning Agamemnon veiled, because
The royal face of Grief disdained his Art—
Being above the mightiest Pencil's reach.

BARACH.
Let us not venture, then, to mourn for him,
Lest we abuse our sorrow, as he did
His Art, aspiring to be what we were
Not made to be,—the Painters of our Loss.

CONOR.
The theme is far above our reach; as well
Attempt to add new glory to the Sun,
Now bursting with the plenitudes of Heaven.
Although we speak the universal voice,
Yet we should smile, not weep; for it were wise
To leave that unattempted which it were
Impossible to do.

BARACH.
Most true, great King.

CONOR.
But, as by losing one of our two eyes,
The other is enriched with greater power,
So let us, by this loss, more strongly grow.

BARACH.
The poorest mourners shed the richest tears.
Then, from this bounty of our love, will we
Enrich Eternity with endless smiles—
That New Baptism, unknown to baser souls,
Consecrating him to immortal life.

CONOR.
His life was seven whole Heavens above the lives
Of other men, by which we measure our
Great loss, above the reach of mortal words;
For, as the Eagle over other birds,
So did his Angel-soul transcend, in thought,
The Buzzard-flight of meaner men.

BARACH.
He did.
But let us on. Come, go with me.

CONOR.
I will.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

A Druidical Grove. Caffa, Fergus, and Cuchullan discovered in conversation.
CAFFA.
He is of royal blood; silent of tongue;
Yet, speaking, clamorous for the Truth;
Given to much inquiry; loving to hear,
Where hearing profits him for the time gone.
Steady of understanding; firm in his
Resolves, either to grant or to deny.
Industrious in his business, little given
To pleasure, except when spent with the one
He loves—then it becomes connubial bliss.
He is temperate in all things, save in
His daily charities—being frugal in
The management of his fortune—except
On great occasions—then he is bountiful
Of his revenue. Of so great a soul—
His heart being always on the side of Truth—
That he longs for glory as he does for Heaven—
His ambition to grow great being the fire
That kindles all his actions—walking so
High, at the same time, in his lofty pride,
That he would not stoop to enter any door
Less high, though it should lead him into Heaven.
A man, who, through his virtues, void of vice,
Would rather serve his Country than to ride
To Glory on the back of her servitude.

FERGUS.
Then he is just the man we want, to steer
Our ship safe through the raging Sea of Storm.

CUCHULLAN.
Just such a man—no other—we will have—
Although Conor would rather have his Court
A little farther off.

CAFFA.
Then let us make
Him King, for all we want is our own will.

FERGUS.
Then we shall want no longer—for we will.

CAFFA.
A mere King by accident of birth—
Not by the free suffrage of the People;
By bloody hands of feudal Lords set up:
Covered with purple robes at our expense,
To blaze like Comets till they burst with their
Own fires—the brightest bursting first—when Night,
Through all her solitudes, rings with the shouts
Of the exultant stars, clapping their hands
In triumph at its downfall from the sky,
Molesting their Seraphic reign. So dies
Out of the memories of the good, the thought
Of ostentatious greatness; disappear
The ambitious Tyrants of the world;
When the down-trodden Millions lift their hands
And voices up to Heaven in hallelujah-shouts
For his damned death! Pageants then disappear.
Royal Hosannahs then are silenced by
Rebellious curses, which fill highest Heaven
With acclamations! Nations then grow strong—
Feeling great earthquakes crawl beneath their feet,
Ready to tumble Mountains in the Sea!

CUCHULLAN.
So may this faithful Nathan of our love,
Rebuke that guilty David on his throne,
Breaking God's iron lash deep in his soul!

CAFFA.
For He who rides triumphant on the wings
Of Cherubim—holding, within his hands,
Orion's band,—holding the Pleiades—
Walking amidst his treasures of great snows,
And hoary frosts of Heaven—swears, in His wrath,
That Vengeance, iron-winged, with sword of fire,
Shall sweep down Conor's harvest-field of men,
To be garnered in the hungry grave of Death!

CUCHULLAN.
Thou art, indeed, a good Historian.

CAFFA.
Not only is he our ablest Warrior,
But the Champion of our religion too.
These rare qualities, springs of his royal heart,
Do make his manly brow the noblest one
That ever wore a Crown; for while the Crown
Doth tower upon his brow, his soul doth crown
His Crown—his glorious deeds crowning them both.

CUCHULLAN.
The trumpet that should speak his praise should be
Of virgin gold.

FERGUS.
A nobler theme was never sung.

CAFFA.
The morning that shall dawn upon his reign,
Will find the happiest evening that the Sun
Ever left behind him after his most
Glorious setting.

FERGUS.
Truly spoken truth.

CAFFA.
After the first fair Morning of his reign,
What a most glorious plenitude of Stars
Will people Heaven to glorify the Night—
Making an image in the Heavens above
Of our dear joys on earth.

CUCHULLAN.
Then let him shine.
Such a bright Sun as Usna's noble Son,
Would chase the clouds of centuries away.

CAFFA.
God send the hour that makes him Ulster's King.

FERGUS.
Amen to that, I pray.

CUCHULLAN.
I say so too.

CAFFA.
Such is the earnest prayer of this whole land,
That Ulster's diadem shall wave upon
The brow of none but Usna's noble Son—
Weighing too heavily now upon the brow
Of old man Conor!

CUCHULLAN.
Truly said; no man
Could wear it with more Apollian grace—
Walking beneath it on the Emerald Hills
Of Erin, like young Mercury, fresh-winged
For Godsent business to the Olympian Mount.

CAFFA.
This would, indeed, give universal joy
To all the Nation, groaning now beneath
The oppressive Serpent's deadly venomous coil!
But then he needs no trumpet such as mine
To speak his praise—but one whose fiery blast
Should emulate the Clarion of the Skies—
Mustering the Nations of the whole great Earth
To do melodious homage!

CUCHULLAN.
Sounding now.

CAFFA.
How irrepressible will be the joy
Of that bright day when he is crowned our King—
Adding new triumphs to that glorious hour—
A never-dying Trophy to his name,
Whose blazing record, written here, shall make
His memory fragrant to the end of time.

FERGUS.
He talks like a God.

CAFFA.
Did not Plato call
The Elean stranger a God? All men
Are gods who do aspire to be like God,
Or like-partakers of the heavenly bliss.

Enter Ainli.
CUCHULLAN.
I love to drink the white wine of your speech.

CAFFA.
So Jacob, after wrestling all the night
With Angels, was made strong to talk with God.

[Exit.
AINLI.
So will I drink till I am drowned in love;
For nothing now can satiate my soul,
But wrestling with that heavenly Angel's love—
More beautiful than Jacob ever saw.

CUCHULLAN.
He means the Angel of Connaught. He is
The Queen's St. Peter—holds the only key
That can unlock the Cabinet of her rare charms.

AINLI.
And find therein a Pearl of richest price.

CUCHULLAN.
A perfect gem—valuing all precious stones
Worthless compared with yours.

AINLI.
A perfect charm—
Whose Talismanic beauty lures my soul
As Sirens did the Seamen.

CUCHULLAN.
Not to death?

AINLI.
No, but to life eternal in the skies.
As once Prometheus brought down fire from Heaven,
So did she every perfect grace from God—
Clothing herself therewith, till Angels even
Did envy her.

CUCHULLAN.
The tire becomes her well.

AINLI.
Nay, she becomes the tire—as thou shalt see—
As some queen's brow the fairest Diadem—
Making more beautiful the Beautiful.

CUCHULLAN.
The Paradise your Adam wants to live in.

AINLI.
As sweet perfume lies hidden in some flower,
So does Divinity in her fair form.
Not all the richest fretwork ever woven
By the fair Nereids of the Sea, though laced
With richest jewels shipwrecked there, could match
The Cestus that adorns her form—which shows,
The more she tries to hide, of that rich store
Of heavenly grace, which there lies hidden—there
Revealed.

CUCHULLAN.
Indeed, you speak her praises well.

AINLI.
Not all those blessed souls, by the inspired souls
Of noblest Poets sainted, could compare
With her—she being, on earth, more than the best
In Heaven.

CUCHULLAN.
The Siren charms him well.

AINLI.
She is more modest than the meek-eyed Moon—
As if some Vestal Virgin should remain
A Nun after her marriage, yet, fulfil
All her rich nuptial rites with wantonness.

CUCHULLAN.
Cynthia has Hyperion by the curls.
The Siren sings so sweetly, if you do
Not stop your ears, the first place you will find
Yourself will be in the bottom of the Sea.

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE VI.

A Private Apartment in Eman. Enter Caffa and Conor, in hasty conversation.
CAFFA.
Lift up thine eyes to where the clear blue sky
Bastions the glory of the bending Heavens,
And muse here with me on the myriad years
Since God first laid the corner-stone of earth,
And built the mighty Delta of the Sea.
Roam through the dark abysses of the Past,
Into those sky-throned nebular realms of space,
Where the great Sun, Apollo of the Heavens,
Sweeps from his thunder-harp of fire, great seas
Of everlasting song, whose golden tones
Make joy throughout the world!

CONOR.
I do! I do!
And hear the Choral thunders of the years
Die into echoes in the far-off Heavens—
Filling Eternity with music. Now,
The chain which binds me to the world,
Is woven of three strands,—Truth—Liberty—Love—
Which I defy even Destiny to break!

CAFFA.
But I will draw the lightnings down from Heaven!
The dead stir in their coffins in their graves!
The voice of Liberty comes down through Heaven,
Precipitous, like a falling star, with shouts,
Tearing the adamantine Gates of Hell—
Awake! Arise!

CONOR.
So let it come! I hear.
But the dead do not wake! They sleep there still—
The everlasting sleep of death, no more
To wake! The Devils do not rush from Hell,
As loth to leave their Monarch there so soon!
There is no power in earth or Hell I fear
Can shake the firm foundation of my throne.

CAFFA.
From out the Old Eternities, far sounding,
I hear the Primal God-voice mutely roar—
Withering the pestilential shades of Night
With its far-reaching thunders! Now it comes,
Down through the abysmal depths of space,
Shearing off, with its two-edged sword of fire,
The rotten limbs from the foul Upas tree of Hell!
The Tyrtean trumpet-blast rings now through Heaven,
Proclaiming to the world thy speedy death!

CONOR.
I live to give thy Trumpet-blast the lie!
The old Gods' Battle-cry dies on my lips,—
“Victory, or death!”

CAFFA.
So cry the Eternal Years,
Answering the screaming Eagles from the East,
Coming to meet the Eagles from the West,
At their last supper on the flesh of Kings,
Spread out on Eman's plains.

CONOR.
So let them come;
There is an Eagle here will meet them there!
Buzzards, you know, like Carrion Crows, fly low;
This Eagle's Eyrie is the Sun—high up
Above the flight of meaner birds; too high
For any but an Angel's gaze! He is
A Phœnix who can never die—sole bird,
Who has no fellow in this world—but lives
In solitary majesty above the earth—
The Emperor of Kings—invulnerable!
Whose ashes do contain the germ of Kings,
Each equal to himself—immortal—born
Above the possibility of death!

CAFFA.
Thy blasphemy shall be th [illeg.] 't will lay
Thee low! Thy doom is sealed—sealed by thyself!

CONOR.
Be my Death-warrant-bearer to the Gods!

CAFFA.
Speak low! for fear the Clarion-voice of Truth
Will draw the Avalanche of Vengeance down
From the Alpine peaks of Heaven, where sits enthroned
Eternal Liberty crowned with the crown
Of immortality.

CONOR.
Then let it come.

CAFFA.
But a Unicorn's Horn on a beast's head
Were hurtful, because he might butt; but on
A wise man's, comely—like those radiant Horns
Which adorned the brow of Moses, when he
Went up on the Mountain to talk with God.

CONOR.
Were Titans created to conquer Gods?

CAFFA.
But he who rows against a raging stream,
Losing one stroke, will fall back farther than
Before had gained by many.

CONOR.
Let it rage!
May the Devil make a Cup of his skull
For the damned Fiends to drink Lethe out of!

CAFFA.
Better make it a Chalice for the blest
Spirits in Heaven to drink nectar out of—
Wherefrom you took so many draughts in life.

CONOR.
May the Hyenas tear him from his grave,
And surfeit on his corse!

CAFFA.
The day will come
When his proud soul shall feast here with the Kings
Of all the world—he King of all these Kings.
Out of his Elysium, where he now reigns,
God of the Gods, he laughs to bitter scorn
Your weak impiety—for he is far
Above all mutabilities of power.

CONOR.
May the triple-mouthed Bandogs of Hell
Bark at his soul in torment ever more!

CAFFA.
Living, he was the Pillar of our hope;
Now, dead, he is the Sun of many Stars,
Clothed in the garments of celestial light—
King of the immortal Harmonies of Heaven!
As those Myrrhine Fabrics of old did hoard
The perfume of the spirit they contained,
Long after it was gone—filling the heart
With shadows of its former joys—so does
His Alabaster body here, to-day,
Smell sweetly of the memory of his soul.
Now, that our Sun is set, we look for night;
Summer being ended, Winter must come!
But Winter only makes the Spring more sweet;
Night, day more lovely; honey after gall—
Manna dropping from the Windows of Heaven;
Health after sickness; wealth after poverty;
Pleasure after pain (the ordeal of our souls);
Plenary riches after infinite want.
Farewell! God will protect the just!
[Exit Caffa.

CONOR.
Farewell!
Enter Barach.
What news?

BARACH.
Most direful news! The Plain
Is covered with the King of Scotland's host
Joined in the fiery Legions of Connaught.

CONOR.
The King of Scotland here?—Mevia too?

BARACH.
They are, great King; against whose forces ours
Were as one Lake compared with the whole Sea!

CONOR.
What! are they married, that they thus unite
Their forces on the field against one man?

BARACH.
So it would seem—in military power.

CONOR.
Are they preparing to attack our force?

BARACH.
They are, great King. The Camp-fires burned, last night,
On Eman's Plain, as far as eye could see,
In emulation of the Host of Heaven—
Like legions of the fiery Cherubim
Descended on the earth, or they to Heaven!

CONOR.
Two mighty powers arrayed against one power?
Come Heaven to them, let Hell unite with us!
What do they want? my throne?

BARACH.
Thy throne, great King!
A prize they know well worth the fighting for.
Not only that, but they desire revenge
Against you for the death of Usna's Sons.

CONOR.
But what were Usna's Sons to them?

BARACH.
Why, nought—
Only as an excuse to gain your crown.

CONOR.
Then let them come! Would Scotland's King were here,
That I might teach him what it is to tempt
A Monarch's power! Oh! but for one short hour
With him alone on Eman's Plain—high Heaven
Our Umpire—we would see who would be King,
Erin or Alba!—Let them come! At dawn,
Before the lusty Night gives birth to Day,
Now laboring with her fair-haired Son of Morn—
In silence, without sound of trump or drum—
(The camp-fires burning still upon the field)—
Muster our soldiers ready for the fight;
For by the time Aurora brings the news,
We will surprise them in their Sackcloth Tents!
Close not thine eyes in sleep, but watch all night;
Waking shall be my sleep, until I sleep
That everlasting sleep—no more to wake!

BARACH.
I go to do your bidding; but, must say,
Without assistance from some other source,
It will be most disastrous to our cause!

CONOR.
There is no other hope! We have no friends—
They being our foes—united now against
Our peace, determined to secure our crown.
We have our own—they theirs; with these we now
Must either win or lose—must live or die!
This we must do, or sell ourselves for slaves
To our own vassals—which we will not do.
Then we must fight, though they have two to one—
My sole regret being, that Scotland's King
Is not here now, ready to fight with me—
Leaving the crown to him who longest lives.
But go—muster the Soldiers in due time;
I will be there to lead them on the field.
[Exit Barach.
The King of Scotland comes with Connaught's Queen,
Pitching their constellated fires on Eman's Plain,
That seem another Heaven come down on earth,
To rule the greater with the lesser light—
As though there were no King on Ulster's throne!
Were Titans created to conquer Gods?
Shall Alba's King be King of Ulster's King?
As well may Night attempt to rise to Day—
Hell, from her dark abyss, ascend to Heaven—
And, with tyrannic impudence, smut out the Sun!

[Exit.

SCENE VII.

The Battle-Field. Enter Conor, meeting Barach.
CONOR.
What news!

BARACH.
Most direful news! the day is lost!
Our men not slain are routed from the field—
Escaping from the unequal odds for life!

CONOR.
Can you not rally them again?

BARACH.
I have
Already tried; but all in vain! They fled
Precipitately from the field for life;
Nor would they be recalled again to death!

CONOR.
Then all is lost! But we still live to fight;
And, living, we can fight until we die!

BARACH.
We can—and will!

CONOR.
Then let us do our best.
Here will we part to meet no more on earth,
Until we meet again on Eman's throne.
If we do fail to rally our lost men,
Then all is over with us in this world;
But if we do, then—there is hope. Farewell!

BARACH.
Farewell! But let us recollect one thing,—
The loss of earth is but the gain of Heaven.
[Exit Barach.

CONOR.
Oh! my Daidra! Angel of my heart!
Is this the cruel death that I must die?
I who am one of God's peculiar race—
Who took you from among a world of woes,
And made you here the darling of my heart—
Hoping that you would lead me from all storm,
Into the Halcyon Haven of pure peace!
Instead of this, you mocked me like a Fiend!
You mocked me, like a Devil, to my face!
Leading me after you on thorny paths,
Into this dismal shadowy Vale of Death!
Oh! God! where is my comfort now? gone! gone!
But were you true—but halfway true to me—
I could forgive you now! But, you are not!
Oh! cruel word! far bitterer than death!
God! God! how I did build upon you once!
A beautiful milkwhite Temple, in whose soul
The Heaven-descended Muses might have come
And taken up their abode, as in the skies!
What bright Elysian dreams I had of life!
What paths I then cut out from earth to Heaven!
(Like Jacob's Ladder seen from Bethel's Plain)—
Bright as the luminous wake made by the Sun's
Swift Chariot, when he wheels the Summer Sea!
Which seemed to reach up to the Gates of God!
Then Night came down! dark Night, that brought no Day!
I now look up—around—above—but see
No Star! no Pharos for my soul, but Night—
Eternal Night that has no morn beyond!
Then the Winds roared! the midnight Demons howled!
The Tempests raged! the lightnings flashed! the rains
Came down in thundering torrents on my soul!
Then, my beautiful, blue-eyed barque was wrecked—
Flindered forever on the Rock of Hell!
Then all went down together in dark death!
Oh! God! I am so sick, I cannot live!
My head is now on fire! my heart! my soul!
Oh! God! have mercy on me! I must die!
There! hold me! hold! hold! help me! help! help! help!

[Falls on the ground.
Re-enter Barach.
BARACH.
What! Conor on the ground?

CONOR.
Help, Barach! help!

BARACH.
What is the matter? wounded? are you slain?

CONOR.
Yes—slain forever more!

BARACH.
I see no wound—
Come—rise! we must not tarry here! They come!
The bloodhounds are upon thy track! they thirst
To drink the last drop from thy royal heart!

CONOR.
Alas! I cannot rise! help, Barach! help!

BARACH.
What! have you swooned here for a silly girl?
Conor become the vassal of himself?
Conquer thyself! thou art thy greatest foe!
Come—let me help you up!
[Raises him up.
Now, come away!

CONOR.
Where is the foe? Show me but Scotland's King,
And I will give you Ulster's starry throne!
Show him to me, that I may hew him up
In little pieces for the Dogs of Hell!

BARACH.
Come on!
I hear them now, coming to take thy life!

CONOR.
What! Scotland's King?

BARACH.
Ay, Scotland's King!

CONOR.
Thank Heaven!
Then I will go to meet him on the way!
My thirsting soul shall never more find rest,
Till quenched to death in blood of Scotland's King!
[Shouts without.
So let them shout till they grow hoarse!
[Shouts repeated.
Again!
The Fiends are drunk with victory!

BARACH.
They come!
Let us not tarry here—inglorious Death
Staring us in the face! No! we must fly!

CONOR.
I will—to meet them on the way!

[Exit.
BARACH.
Farewell!

[Exit.

SCENE VIII.

Another part of the Field. Enter Conor, meeting Caffa.
CAFFA.
Thy Judas-Star doth culminate in Heaven,
Only to sink the lower into Hell!
I hear God's thunder-gong tolling in Heaven
For thy damned soul! Prepare for death! for here,
With this right hand, will I unroll for thee
The iron Scroll of thy dark destiny!
'Tis written with an iron Pen in blood!
Read it, if thy weak eyes can bear such light,
And not be struck stone blind! Methinks thy ears
Should be as deaf as thou art blind to hear
Thy damning sentence read!

CONOR.
But I am not!

CAFFA.
False man! let not thy disbelief in God
Make thee believe that he is dead! He lives!
And he will raise Naisa up from death,
And His two other Sons, to make them live—
Whose living shall be daily death to thee!
This thou shalt see, if thou dost live! If not,
Then thou shalt see them after death, from Hell,
As Dives did Lazarus in Heaven! Ah! weep!
And tremble at my power!

CONOR.
Who told thee this?
Tell me who told thee this! speak out the truth!

CAFFA.
A Voice from out the Past, whose living tones
Vibrate through all the Future—reaching far
Away into the Sunless Night of Time,
Like rays shot from Apollo's golden bow,
Down through the abysmal depths of space,
Breaking into reverberant echoes round
The bleeding world!

CONOR.
So cry the Future Years!
Startling the Ear of Time, upturned to hear
God's lightning-curses rolling down through Heaven
In thunders—shivering in fiery splinters in
My soul!

CAFFA.
Now the last iron lash of God's
Great indignation is broken in thy soul!

CONOR.
I bear the thunder that no soul can hear,
But one like mine—crying aloud to me—
“Prepare to meet thy God!” The Gates of Hell,
Flung open wide, now wait for thy damned soul!

CAFFA.
That was the Bath Kol of thy doom! Thine eyes—
Like thy deaf ears so long unstopped to sounds
Of heavenly truth—shall soon be couched, to see
Visions unseen by mortal man before!
The fiery fingers of the Fiends of Hell,
Snatching at thy lost soul, shall drag thee down
Where lightning-chains shall clank around thy form
In thunderous splinters, manacling thy limbs
In serpentinious folds—seething into thy flesh
With fire unquenchable, fierce as the hiss
Of those immortal, ravenous snakes, whose tongues,
Of poisonous fire, shall lap forever thy black blood,
While Scorpions red are burrowing in thy bones!
Hell's Bandogs, louder than the direful clang
Of twice ten thousand shields by Titans hurled—
(Gog against Magog, fighting for the World)—
Shall pile obstreperous thunders round thy soul,—
High as Olympus! Thou shalt writhe beneath
The impending weight, like Titans when the Gods,
To keep them down from Heaven, hurled mountains on
Their prostrate forms—whose wrestlings underneath
Made earthquakes in the world!

CONOR.
Poor bleeding Stag!
I hear the Hellhounds barking for me now—
Following my bloody track—close on my heels!
Is there no Covert for the stricken deer?
No hope for my despair? Is there no God?
No Christ? No Heaven? No Hell?

CAFFA.
Yes, there is Hell!
There you will find your God—your Christ—your Heaven!

CONOR.
Then come to my release! Wishing to know
The worst, I long to rush into the arms
Of my desire! Then open wide thy doors!
For, feeling now unworthy of the world,
I long to be where I can feel at home!
For any place were better now than this,
Where I am most unfit to be! Oh! God!
Oh! Death! who art my God! my Christ! my Heaven!—
Because my Saviour from this life of sin!—
Come down to me!—If thou art up, come down!
If down—come up! redeem me from this death,
Which is my life, by ending of my death;
That, dying, I may be redeemed from death!
If that be life which is to come of death!—
The death that I may die!—Come down to me!
If that thou art an Angel in the Heavens—
Come—minister to my despair! If not,
Come up, from where thou art, to my release!
They say thou art the twin of Sleep! then come,
My gentle Geminus! rock me to rest,—
For I am weary of the world! Show me
Thy skeleton form—thine eyeless orbs of stone—
That I may hug thee in mine arms of flesh,
And warm thee with the joy that burns for thee,—
Since my crushed heart is cold to all besides!
Daidra will not have me now—poor, lost,
Dethronéd King! She will not have me now!
She, who refused me while I lived, will not
Be mine now I am dead! She, who refused
Me on my throne, will not sit by me now,
Here in this wormy grave! Oh! God! is this
Not hard? harder than Hell itself to bear?
It is! Then let me go to Hell! Come forth,
Oh! Death! come forth! for this damned life is worse,
Ten thousand times, than Hell!

CAFFA.
Thy Lord is here!
Behold thy King! thy Comforter is come!
Prepare to die!

Enter Naisa, Ainli, and Ardan, whom he supposes to be dead.
CONOR.
My Lord! my God! my Heaven!
What now! who comes? What's there! my friends, or foes?
My foes! my Hells! three Hells in shape of Heaven!
Alive, or dead? dead, or alive? Alive!—
An Incubus, far mightier than Death,
Weighs on my heart, pressing my soul from out
My body in the air—colder than ice!
My hair is changed to strands of piercing wire!
My heart has ceased to beat! my lips are dumb!
My blood crawls through my limbs like frozen snakes,
In hibernation of eternal death!
Speak! that my soul may know its doom! Speak out!
Let me not die in ignorance of my fate!
If I am doomed to Hell, why, tell me so!
No word? no answer yet? They will not speak!
But are as dumb as Death!—perhaps as deaf!
Oh! God! their silence louder speaks than words!
Thundering my doom! They tell me I am damned!
Enter Daidra.
But look! behold! she comes! 'tis she! 'tis she!
The Angel of my soul! my life! my Heaven!
Are they not dead? were they not killed?—they were!
But yet they live!—or else they could not come
To me in this bright armor of their lives—
Brighter than when they lived!—Speak to my soul!
By my eternal God! this silence is too long—
Shattering my soul to deafness with its shouts
Of adamantine thunder! You must speak!
My soul cannot endure this rack of pain—
This speech that looks so loud, but will not speak!
Are they the spirits of the dead? they are!
Then, God! no wonder they are dumb! for why
Should an immortal to a mortal speak?
Then, my Daidra! Angel of my heart!
A Lily fresh-blown from the Fields of Heaven!
Being now freed from every earthly taint,
But no more of an Angel than when first
I knew thy heavenly love! let me kneel down
And worship thee once more before I die!
Oh! God! she waives me not to kneel! Then—then—
She is not dead, but lives! yet, will not speak!
Mute as the Sons of Usna are! What does
This mean? have they come here to torture me?
Surely they have! for this is worse than Hell!
Speak! that my soul may know its doom! Speak out!
I charge thee, by the God of Heaven! to speak!
By all the Devils in Hell! I charge thee, speak!
By all that one man owes another, speak!
Have you no tongue, nor ears? Have ye no souls?
Are ye alive, or dead? Speak to my soul!
[Naisa points downwards.
Avaunt! begone out of my sight! to Hell
Thyself! down—down with Devils damned! Avaunt,
I say! Is there no God in Heaven!
[Naisa points upwards.
Then why
Permit me to be tortured thus? Who did
I ever torture thus?
[Naisa first points to himself, then to Daidra.
When did I this?

[Naisa answers by pantomime.
Liar! it was not I who did this thing—
But you, who tore her from my heart—which now
Lies bleeding at her feet! For this there is
No hope for thee in life—or death! For that—
Not for premeditated wrong—I sold
Thy soul to Hell! This was the reason why
I falsified my guarantee! Which sin
Was greater, yours or mine?—for you to steal
My wife, or me to scorn my guarantee?
The God of Heaven will answer for us both,
When we do meet together at his Bar,
Where each shall know his doom!
[Naisa points downwards again.
Begone from me!—
Oh! my Daidra! cruel, cruel child!
How can you treat me so? Speak, my dear Queen!
Speak to my soul, but one soft word, before
I die, that thy dear voice may cheer me in
My exile, whether I go to Heaven or Hell?

CAFFA.
“He who speaks, sows; but he who keeps silence, reaps.
Speech is silvern; silence is golden.”

CONOR.
True—
Silence never yet was written down. “Who says
What he likes, shall hear what he does not like.”

CAFFA.
Then, does the Fox thrive best who is most curst?
Enter the Spirit of Illan the Fair.
Nemesis is awake! She sleeps no more!
But with the lightning-lash of God now walks
The world to scourge the Offender down to Hell!

CONOR.
Who is it that I see before me now;
In form of one that was not long since dead?
Is it a Phantom conjured by the brain
By too long laboring with unhealthy thoughts;
Or is it a bold reality? It is
No Phantom, but a bold reality!
Whither shall I fly? Behind is Hell!
Before me, that which doth appal me more
Than legions of black Devils hot from Hell!
For in the lightning-wake of thy dread form,
Clad like the resurrection of the just—
I see the long funeral train of all
My buried years coming up from the Past,
Like some invincible army, to besiege
Again this trembling City of my life!
Avaunt! or tell me why you come to me
In more than mortal make—larger in death
Than in the mightiest manhood of your life!
Spreading this mildew of dark death
Over the iron mail of all my soul!
Speak out! or vanish from my sight again,
Into the grave, less dismal than thy form!
Your silence appals me more than even your sight—
Striking me dumber with your speechless speech,
Than could ten thousand thunders sent from Hell!
Open those speechless, eloquent, speaking lips,
And take this horrible Nightmare from my soul,
Causing my heart, like some impetuous sea,
Stormed into tempests by the roaring winds,
To beat with thunderous surgings in my breast—
Washing away the sands beneath my house of life—
Tottering where I now stand, ready to fall!—
Is this Naisa's spirit that I see?
If so, then God has sent him here to take
Revenge upon my life! Can I escape
The death that God determines I shall die?
Now do I know that the dead live again!—
Are you alive or dead? If you were dead,
You could not walk with such majestic life!
But the dead are dead! But if the dead should live,
It is not Death that lives, but life, which is
From God—God being the God not of the dead,
But of the living! Then he is not from Hell,
But Heaven! Then God has sent him here to wreak
Swift vengeance on my soul! If this be so,
Should I thus tamely stand? submit to him?
No! I will fight with him until the last
Drop leaves my heart! for, in the strife, my soul
Will harden itself against his sword,
Which else would cut deep pangs through all my life;
So that the strife will harden my heart to die
Without the pangs that yielding now would give!
Come on! if you have come to take my life,
The sooner done the better! After this—
Seeing what I now see—this life could be
Nothing but living death! for never will this
Foul Apparition leave my sight! Come on!

NAISA.
The chain of silence which so long has lain
Upon my soul, is broken—broken as
I mean to break thy rotten bones! Know, then,
That this same sword by which I fell, was charmed—
Seeming to kill, but not yet dead!—I live!
A Phœnix newly risen! By this same sword,
Will I now cut thy thread of life in twain!
The life that you inherit is from Hell—
Mine is from Heaven! Therefore, the difference in
Our destiny! For you, life has no charm,
Because your life had never any charm!

CONOR.
This is a bitter fate! but only makes
My soul harder to bear the ills of time!
My heart is now hard as the Rock of Hell!
No charmed sword, made of celestial steel,
Forged in the fires of Heaven—then tempered in
The cold waves of the Celtiberian brook,
Can pierce this adamantine mail which sight
Of thee has woven around my soul! Come on!
My soul is diamond—not to be cut
By anything less hard!

NAISA.
Your soul is clay—
Crumbling, as your vile body is, to dust!
There is no light for you in Sun or Moon!
But all the world is dark—dark as your soul—
Which is the fountain of your life, wherein
Your thoughts, like midnight devils, drown themselves
In strangling wretchedness.

CONOR.
Your words are truth,
But do not mend my case! Speak that which will
Inspire some hope, or speak no more! I will
Not hear you tell what I already know!
If there is no medicine can cure this grief,
Then help the disease to be my cure in death!

NAISA.
Know you not that the soul, by doing ill,
Will drag itself down from Heaven into Hell?

CONOR.
I know—by which I lose two thrones,—the one
On earth—the other, brighter one, in Heaven!
Farewell to both! since she is gone who made
Them so!

NAISA.
You mean Daidra?

CONOR.
Name her not!
Since she is gone from me forever more!
When you went down to Hell, she went to Heaven.

NAISA.
Then Heaven went into Heaven—where you
Will never go.

CONOR.
I do not want to go.
Unless she could be mine, it were no Heaven—
But Hell.

NAISA.
For how could Heaven unite with Hell?

CONOR.
As readily as I with thee. We have
A mutual repulsion!

NAISA.
There you wish to speak
Your own foul praise, but lie in doing so;
For present hate does argue previous love—
I never had for thee.

CONOR.
Nor I for thee.
Therefore, there being no hate between us two,
Let us depart in peace—you to your home—
Me back to mine.

NAISA.
Then down to Hell—where now
The Devil waits to crown thee King! My home
Is here on Eman's throne.

CONOR.
Liar! that is
My throne! for petty King of Ullad thou
Shalt never be—unless a ghost can reign—
Or now discrown her lawful King! Come on!

NAISA.
I make you bold touching your earthly love;
But know the only heir to that proud throne,
Stands here before you now, as Usna's Son.

CONOR.
You must discrown me first—which I defy
A ghost to do! for never shall my throne
Be filled by one of Usna's Sons—who stole
My kingdom when they stole my wife away!

NAISA.
Liar! she never was thy wife! she would
Not stoop to hate so foul a fiend!

CONOR.
But she
Could die—as did her impious lover here!
Thereby inheriting the hate of all
Posterity—the burning fires of Hell!

NAISA.
But I have only parleyed here this long
To make your death more terrible to you!
Your life is forfeited! you have to die!
Had you a thousand thrones to give for life,
You could not live an hour!

CONOR.
Who put my life
Into your hands? Who made you Executioner?
A Sheriff needs more mortal bones than yours!
But the mere sight of him who once was dead,
But lives again—knowing that this is not
From him, but God—has made my soul, that once
Was soft with fear—harder than adamant!—
You may now hack me all to pieces, but this
Terrible fear, that now appals my soul,
Has so hardened my heart, that I can die
And feel no pang! Come on, Infernal Ghost!
And he who conquers shall be Ullad's King
Forever more in Eman! Now, come on!
For fear that I may rally again to life,
And die in tortures! Draw, I say! Come on!
For with this trusty sword, tempered in Hell,
I'll hew my pathway through thy spectral form
Up to my throne in Heaven—or down to Hell.

[They fight desperately.—Conor falls.
NAISA.
Now does the iron chain of silence lie
Heavy upon thy lying tongue! But, hark!
I hear the Devils coming up from Hell,
To rivet fiery chains around thy soul!

CONOR.
Liar! it is not silence—for I speak!
Although the chain lies heavy, yet, I speak—
Telling thee to thy face, thou art no ghost,
But flesh and blood, as I am now—for nought
But flesh and blood could so contend against
Far better blood—bringing me down to death!

NAISA.
Where is thy throne now, little man? the chain
Of silence is around thy tongue! Open thy lips
And speak to me! Come up from thy foul grave,
And speak again as I do now to thee!

CONOR.
Oh! Barach! Barach! do revenge my death!
Let not this Son of Usna steal my throne!
Poison him in the night! Fergus has played
Me false! Then Caffa's dread Enchantments have
Been fatal to my life! Oh! damn his soul!
Take double vengeance on them all—all—all!
Oh! God! God! God! his sword was cold as ice!
But hot as fire! Hell's flames were in the blade!
I hear it hissing in my heart! I feel
It seething in my soul! Oh! damnéd fiend!
Away! begone! my heart—my head—my soul—
Are all on fire! Some water! fire! fire! fire!

[Dies.
CAFFA.
Poor Conor! thy false heart has ceased to beat!
Thy blood is stagnant! cold as ice! Death! death!
And thine immortal spirit gone to God!
Oh! what an awful sight is this!—to see
God's Angel, called the God of Death, turn out
A tenant from his body-house, because
He had refused the heavenly Landlord rent!
Gods! how he voiced away his agony!
In shrieks that would have torn his own hard heart,
Had he been auditor! But he is gone—
Gone to the dismal Shades below, where voice
Of mourning cannot come!—Farewell! farewell!

[Exeunt omnes. Scene closes.

SCENE IX.

The Plain before Eman. Enter Conal Carnach meeting Barach.
CONAL CARNACH.
Stand, Conor! stand!

BARACH.
Barach, not Conor, stands!
But who commands the King!

CONAL CARNACH.
Then, Barach, stand!
Who is another Conor—Semi-King!

BARACH.
What! Conal Carnach?

CONAL CARNACH.
Conal Carnach calls.
Thou, Barach, bottlewasher to the King,
Who once made Fergus feast against his will,
For Conor's treachery, against great Usna's Sons—
Shalt now be carved up, by this trusty sword,
Into small rations for the worms of Death!
Thou who didst cook false suppers for the King,
Shalt now be roasted in the fires of Hell,
For the Symposium of the damned! Come on!
I mean to hew thee so, the Devil's dogs
Can eat thee without crunching thy damned bones!

BARACH.
Bold Conal Carnach! thou art mad! be calm!
For Barach never injured thee, nor thine!

CONAL CARNACH.
Base liar; wert thou not false to Usna's Sons,
For Conor's sake, who are my kin?

BARACH.
No! no!
I was not false to them, though Conor's friend;
And hurl the lie back in thy throat again!
I feasted Fergus—would have feasted them—
Invited them to feast—but they refused.

CONAL CARNACH.
Thereby detaining Fergus at the feast,
Against his solemn guarantee to see
That Usna's Sons were safe returned again
Back into Eman's Halls!

BARACH.
They did return—
Refused with Fergus to partake the feast.

CONAL CARNACH.
As you well knew they would before you asked—
Fergus had vowed not to refuse a feast.

BARACH.
Then he should not have made the vow.

CONAL CARNACH.
False rogue!
To take advantage of that vow, to steal
The opportunity, for Conor's sake,
To separate them from their dearest friend,
And throw them in his power against his oath—
Becoming accessory to their death!
Vile dog! licker of Conor's putrid sores!
For this thou hast to die!

BARACH.
I have to die—
As all men have—but not for this. Thy words
Are all as false as Hell—sons like their sire!
As faithful to my King, as thou art false—
For he is kin to me, as they to thee!

CONAL CARNACH.
Kin not only in blood, but bloody deeds!
Then thou shouldst follow him where he is gone—
To Hell! where all such traitors go!

BARACH.
Where all
Such liars as thou art sure to go!

CONAL CARNACH.
Come on,
Foul Judas! Let the Heavens now be our Judge—
Pronouncing, by your death, or mine, who speaks
The truth, or false—who now is right, or wrong!
Come on! I will not parley any more,
But dialogue of swords shall end our strife—
This iron tongue telling to all the world—
Known now in Heaven—that thou art false as Hell!

BARACH.
False Conal Carnach! if thou lovest thy life
Better than sudden death—depart from me!
I did not seek thy life—nor wish thy death!
But if thou tempt me farther than thou hast,
By my immortal soul! thou shalt not live!
For never yet did mortal man stand up
Before me, sword in hand, as thou dost now,
And, afterwards, confronting me, to live!

CONAL CARNACH.
Let Heaven now be our Judge who ought to die!
The one who falls proclaiming who is false!

BARACH.
Then, by my God! If thou wilt fight—come on!
This day shall be thy last!

CONAL CARNACH.
Come on! All time shall know—
What dread Eternity shall tongue in Heaven—
The thunderous plunge of Barach down to Hell!

BARACH.
Then come! thy fate is sealed! Come forth, my sword!
[They fight.—Barach falls.
Oh! Conal! Carnach! thou wert armed from Heaven!
Lightning was in thy steel!—for I am slain!
Barach, who never did thee wrong—must die!
For I now hear the thunder-trump of Heaven
Sounding my doom through all the world!—I die!

[Dies.
[Exit Conal Carnach.—Scene closes.

SCENE X.

Another part of the Field. Enter Caffa attended by Lucifer.
LUCIFER.
By Hell! I tell thee I have taught thee much!
So, baffle me no more! Give me the Scroll!

CAFFA.
You have—I thank thee for it. You have taught
Me how to arm my human soul against
Thy Superhuman Arts. For this, I thank
Thee much; but not enough to give the Scroll
To thee.

LUCIFER.
By Hell! the Scroll is mine! Give it,
Or I will wrench it from thy puny grasp,
And dash thee down to Hell!

CAFFA.
To Hell thyself!
Where you belong! or I will call on God
To thunderbolt thee back, as He did once
From off the crystal Battlements of Heaven—
His mercy following after thee in floods
Of penal fire—while Angels' tears dropt on
Thee from above. Down into Hell, I say!

LUCIFER.
By Hell! the Scroll is mine!—Angels of wrath!
And fierce revenge! cohabitants of Hell!
Rise from thy fiery night of lasting pain,—
Where ye have suffered Heaven's decree unscathed—
And here confront with me great Caffa's soul!—
I hear the cymbal-sound of their great wings
Scourging the darkness as they climb the steep,
Precipitous, adamantine sides of Hell,
In rumbling thunder!

CAFFA.
God! I call on thee!

LUCIFER.
They come! they come! Give me the Scroll,
And I will shout them back to Hell again!

CAFFA.
No—let them come! It was an Angel's gift!
I trust in God! What can they do against
His power? Call up the Fiends! let them appear!
Since they delight in torture, they shall have
Enough of Earth-rejoicing pleasure, soon to be
Re-lightning-tortured back to Hell again!
Instead of Fiends, proud Lucifer, behold!
An Angel comes! Astarte! Queen of Heaven!

[An Angel appears in Heaven, from whose down-turned palm a thunderbolt descends, opening a Cavern in the earth, through which Lucifer descends into Hell.—Exit Caffa.

SCENE XI.

Before Eman. Shouts without. Enter Cuchullan, Fergus, and Conal Carnach, attended by Soldiers marching to triumphant music, bearing trophies.
CONAL CARNACH.
Victory! Victory! from the great Sea of souls,
Rolls, crumbling into thunders as it rolls
On the far-distant Hills that stand to hear,
Redoubling back the shouts with echoes loud—
Till the whole bending Heavens seem filled with clouds
Of stormy joy!

CUCHULLAN.
Let us respond to them!
[They shout.
From having charged victorious on the foe,
We now return triumphant home again,
To see the Sons of Usna crowned our Kings—
Jointly to reign as they have jointly fought—
Winning their glory, side by side, with blood,
The noblest ever shed on Eman's Plains—
Baptizing them, before the face of Heaven,
The noblest Champions of immortal fame!
Now let us on to see them crowned! On—on!

[Exeunt omnes to martial music.

SCENE XII.

The Throne Room in Eman of Macha.—The Nobles assembled.—Heraldic music.—Enter Naisa, Ainli, and Ardan, leading in Daidra, Darthula, and Mevia, Queen of Connaught, attended by Fergus, Cuchullan, Conal Carnach, the King of Duntrone, and the Sons of Dura.—Enter Caffa the Druid.
CAFFA.
From the low Valley-lands, where all was night,
We reach this Mountain-top of joyful day,
Where all is cloudless, everlasting peace—
The realization of our brightest hopes.
For Usna's Sons shall now be jointly crowned
To reign three Kings, as one, on Eman's throne—
Darthula with Daidra, Mevia, reign
The three fair Queens of these three peerless Kings.
These Bridal Chaplets now shall crown them Queens,
While with these crowns I crown their husbands Kings.
[Caffa first places the three Crowns on the heads of the Sons of Usna; then the three Bridal Chaplets on the heads of the three Queens. Enter Lavercam.—Celestial music attending her.
Welcome forever more!

LAVERCAM.
The Angels wait,
In golden Chariots, at the Gates of Heaven,
To crown thee with their branches of pure palm,
The immortal Son of God! Thy fame
Shall outlive Time! thy days are as the years of God!

CAFFA.
For like some new-born thought, unborn before,
Rising, in luminous beauty, from the depths
Of some great Poet's soul, sublime, to Heaven—
Turning the Night of Ages into Day,
Until the World drinks gladness from its beams;
So thou dost come, translucent from the Past,
To make the present pregnant with new joys—
Filling my soul with bliss forever more!

LAVERCAM.
Showing what value God doth place upon
That soul in time who can transmute the things
Of earth into their Prototypes in Heaven—
Echoing the golden voices of the Gods!
Thy soul is so completely stored with all
The infinite riches of the skies, that even
The universe were nought compared with thee.
This comes from wandering, all day long, amid
Those aboriginal flowery groves which make
Sweet Edens of the Meadowy Seas of God.

CAFFA.
Oh! as the Rainbow canopies the earth
With its prismatic arms, so does my soul,
With its Cherubic wings, thy nestling love!

LAVERCAM.
Thy words are sweeter far to me than songs;
More eloquent than the Nuncio of the Gods—
(Adumbrative smile of the weeping Heavens)—
Risus plorantis Olympi—for it is
An Emblem of our covenant of hope.
Here have I been these eighteen tedious years,
Waiting for thy dear soul—praying to God
That he might lift thee up to Heaven to make
It Paradise indeed; but thou hast still stayed here,
Striving for knowledge, how to find me there,
Sinless, though tempted. Faithful to the last,
And true in all things—thou shalt long no more,
But be rewarded with those endless joys
That God has laid up for thee in the Heavens.
I am Slessama—Lavercam—thy wife!

CAFFA.
Oh! my Slessama! Lavercam! my wife!
[Embraces her.
I hear the Angels' voices from on high,
Pouring sweet benediction on thy soul!

LAVERCAM.
They come to welcome thee to bliss in Heaven!

CAFFA.
Oh! beautiful Vision of the Heaven of Heavens!
[Celestial music heard.
I hear the Angels' voices singing now—
Overflowing the earth with melody!
Was ever song so sweet to me as that?
It seems to bind my soul in golden chains—
Lifting me captive into God's own arms!
Oh! I am rapt above all earthly things,
And made partaker of celestial joys!
Their voices sound like bliss—but sadder far
Than voices of the Pleiades waiting for their
Lost Sister at the Gates of Heaven! They come!
Blest triumph of my consummated will!
Most glorious victory of supernal Power!
As I have lived, so will I die, for God!
Walking the world, from Age to Age, with Christ,
Teaching the harmonies of Truth to man.

LAVERCAM.
Thus Genius is arrested in his flight
Of Apollonian victory over Hell,
And smothered in the embrace of Angels, sent
To bear him Godward through the opening Heavens,
Which seem to bend down to receive his soul!

CAFFA.
Thus will I walk, like Hercules, all power,
Forever striving, in immortal youth!
Crowned now the Real of my Ideal here,
Practised what I believe—sowed, reaped the truth—
I now am ready to lie down with Christ,
And slumber three days in the grave of Hell;
Then soar with him to Heaven, no more to die.
My star of life will soon go down on earth,
Never to reillume its light in time;
But to burn on again above the Sun,
Brighter than Constellations of great Suns!

LAVERCAM.
What binds thee now on earth!

CAFFA.
Nothing, my love!
My soul is ready now to go with thee!
The Trumpet of the Lord is sounding now!
I see the Angels on the eternal Hills,
Gathering the immortal branches of pure palm,
Waving me now to come aloft to them—
Up to the eternal supper of the Gods!
And I must go! The morning star is mine!
Victory! Victory! Heaven opens for my soul!
[Celestial music heard in Heaven.
How sweet it is to die for one we love—
Exhaling our pure souls away to Heaven,
Like perfume when it dies out of the Rose—
Wafted away in bliss, as I am now!
Oh! Lavercam! Slessama! my dear wife!

LAVERCAM.
Silence can only tell my speechless love—
The unutterable rapture of my heart!
The void that we now leave behind, shall be the tongue
To tell Posterity our living joys—
Making melodious all the after years,
Till rapt Eternity grows vocal with our praise.

CAFFA.
Oh! my Slessama! Lavercam! my wife!

[Caffa, during his Apotheosization, is wafted, gently, by Angels, in company with Slessama, his wife, as if borne on an atmosphere of music, into Heaven.
Curtain Falls.