University of Virginia Library

ACT I

A forest glade at the rising of the moon. In the background is the hazel-shadowed pool of a wide waste of water. As the moonshine falls upon an ancient oak to the right, the tall figure of Dalua is seen leaning against the bole. He is clad in black, with a small black cap from which hangs a black hawk's feather.
Dalua
[Slowly coming out of the shadow
By dim moon-glimmering coasts and dim grey wastes
Of thistle-gathered shingle, and sea-murmuring woods
Trod once but now untrod... under grey skies
That had the grey wave sighing in their sails
And in their drooping sails the grey sea-ebb,
And with the grey wind wailing evermore
Blowing the dun leaf from the blackening trees,
I have travelled from one darkness to another.

Voices in the Wood
Though you have travelled from one darkness to another
Following the dun leaf from the blackening trees
That the grey wind harries, and have trodden the woods
Where the grey-hooded crows that once were men
Gather in multitude from the long grey wastes
Of thistled shingle by sea-murmurous coasts,
Yet you have come no further than a rood,
A little rood of ground in a circle woven.

Dalua
My lips have lost the salt of the driven foam,
Howbeit I hear no more the long dull roar,
Of the long grey beaches of the Hebrides.

Voices
Behind the little windless leaves of the wood
The sea-wastes of the wind-worn Hebrides
With thunderous crashes falling wave on wave,
Are but the troubled sighs of a great silence.

Dalua
To the world's end I have come, to the world's end.

Voices
You have come but a little way who think so far
The long uncounted leagues to the world's end:
And now you are mazed because you stand at the edge
Where the last tangled slope leans over the abyss.

Dalua
You know not who I am, sombre and ancient voices.
[Silence
And if I tread the long, continuous way
Within a narrow round, not thinking it long,
And fare a single hour thinking it many days,
I am not first or last, of the Immortal Clan,
For whom the long ways of the world are brief
And the short ways heavy with unimagined time.

Voices in the Wood
There is no first or last, or any end.

Dalua
I have come hither, led by dreams and visions,
And know not why I come, and to what end,
And wherefore mid the noise of chariot wheels
Where the swung world roars down the starry ways
The Voice I know and dread was one with me,
As the uplifted grain and wind are one.

Voices
Above you is the light of a wandering star...
O Son of the Wandering Star, we know you now!

Dalua
Like great black birds the demons haunt the woods...
Hail, ye unknown who know me!...

A Voice
Hail, Son of Shadow!

Voices
Hail, Brother of the strong, immortal gods,
And of the gods who have passed into a sleep
In sandless hollows of forgotten hills,
And of the homeless, sad, bewildered gods
Who as grey wandering mists lickt up of the wind
Pass slowly in the dull unfriendly light
Of the cold, curious eyes of envious men....

Other Voices
. . . . . . Ai! Ai!
Who yet have that which gives their mortal clay
A light and a power and a wonder that none has
Of all the Clans of the Shee, save only those who are not sprung of Orchil and of Kail
The mother and father of the earth-wrought folk,
Greater than men but less than Orchil and Kaìl,
As they in turn are less than sky-set Lu
Or Oengus who is keeper of the four great keys...

Other Voices
Than sky-set Lu who leads the hosts of the stars...

Other Voices
Than Dagda, Lord of Thunder and of Silence,
And Ana, the ancient Mother of the gods....

Other Voices
Than Mánan of the innumerable waters....

Other Voices
Than moon-crown'd Brigid of the undying flame....

Other Voices
Than Midir of the Dew and the Evening Star....

Other Voices
Than Oengus, keeper of the East: of Birth: of Song:
The keeper of the South: of Passion: and of War:
The keeper of the West: of Sorrow: of Dreams:
The keeper of the North: of Death: of Life.

Dalua
Yet one more ancient even than the god of the sun,
Than flame-haired Oengus, lord of Love and Death,
Holds the last dreadful key... Oblivion.

Voices
Dim ages that are dust are but the loosened laughters
Spilt in the youth of Oengus the Ever-Young!

Dalua
I am old, more old, more ancient than the gods,
For I am son of Shadow, eldest god
Who dreamed the passionate and terrible dreams
We have called Fire and Light, Water and Wind,
Air, Darkness, Death, Change, and Decay, and Birth
And all the infinite bitter range that is.

A Voice
Brother and kin to all the twilit gods,
Living, forgot, long dead: sad Shadow of pale hopes,
Forgotten dreams, and madness of men's minds:
Outcast among the gods, and called the Fool,
Yet dreaded even by those immortal eyes
Because thy fateful touch can wreck the mind
Or lay a frost of silence on the heart:
Dalua, hail!...

Dalua
I am but what I am.
I am no thirsty evil lapping life.
[Loud laughters from the wood
Laugh not, ye outcasts of the invisible world,
For Lu and Oengus laugh not, nor the gods
Safe set above the perishable stars.
[Silence
They laugh not, nor any in the high celestial house.
Their proud immortal eyes grow dim and clouded
When as a morning shadow I am gathered
Into their holy light, for well they know
The dreadful finger of the Nameless One,
That moves as a shadow falls. For I Dalua
Am yet the blown leaf of the unknown powers.

Voices
[Tumultuously
We too are the blown leaves of the unseen powers.

Dalua
Demons and Dreams and Shadows, and all ye
Invisible folk who haunt the darkling ways,
I am grown weary, who have stooped and lain
Over the green edge o' the shaken world
And seen beneath the whirling maze of stars
Infinite gulfs of silence, and the obscure
Abysmal wastes where Time hath never trod.

Voices
We too are weary: we are Weariness.

Dalua
[Listening intently
Voices of shadowy things, be still! I hear
The feet of one who wanders through the wood.

Voices
We who are the children of the broken way,
The wandered wind, the idle wave, blown leaves,
The wild distempered hour and swirling dust,
Hail thee, Dalua, Herdsman of fallen stars,
Shepherd of Shadows! Lord of the Hidden Way!

Dalua
[Going back to the oak
Voices be still! The woods are suddenly troubled.
I hear the footfall of predestined things.

[Enter Etain, in a coiled robe of pale green, with mistletoe intertwined in her long, dark, unloosened hair. She comes slowly forward, and stands silent, looking at the moonshine on the water.
Etain
[Singing to a slow monotonous air
[Etain turns, and walks slowly forward. She starts as she hears a peculiar cry from the wood

Etain
None made that cry who has not known the Shee.

Dalua
[Coming forward and bowing low with fantastic grace
Hail, daughter of kings, and star among the dreams
Which are the lives and souls of whom have won
The Country of the Young!

Etain
I know you not:
But though I have not seen your face before,
I think you are of those who have not kept
The bitter honey of mortality,
But are among the deathless folk who dwell
In hollow hills, or isles far off, or where
Flatheanas lies, or cold Ifurin is.

Dalua
I have come far, led here by dreams and visions.

Etain
By dreams and visions led I too have come
But know not whence or by what devious way,
Nor to what end I am come through these dim woods
To this grey lonely loch.

Dalua
[Touching her lightly with the shadow of his hand
Have you forgot
The delicate smiling land beneath the arcs
Which day and night and momently are wove
Between its peaceful shores and the vast gulf
Of dreadful silence and the unpathwayed dark?

Etain
If somewhat I remember, more is lost.
Have I come here to meet with you, fair sir,
Whose name I do not know, whose face is strange?

Dalua
Can you remember....

Etain
I have forgotten all...
I can remember nothing: no, not this
The little song I sang ev'n now, or what sweet thought,
What ache of longing lay behind the song.
All is forgot. And this has come to me
The wind-way of the leaf. But now my thoughts
Ran leaping through the green ways of my mind
Like fawns at play: but now I know no more
That this: that I am Etain White o' the Wave,
Etain come hither from the lovely land
Where the immortal Shee fill up their lives
As flowers with honey brewed of summer airs,
Flame of the sun, dawn-rains, and evening dews.

Dalua
[Sombrely
How knew you not that once, where the unsetting moon
The grassy elf mounds fills with drowsy gold,
I kissed your shadowy lips beneath the thorn
Heavy with old foam of changeless blossom?

Etain
[Leaning forward and looking into his face
You loved me once? I have no memory
Of this: if once you loved me, have you lost
The subtle breath of love, the sudden fire?
For you are cold as are your shadowy eyes.

Dalua
[Unstirring
When, at the last, amid the o'erwearied Shee—
Weary of long delight and deathless joys—
One you shall love may fade before your eyes,
Before your eyes may fade, and be as mist
Caught in the sunny hollow of Lu's hand,
Lord of the Day....

Etain
[Eagerly, with her left hand pressed against her heart
What then?

Dalua
It may be then, white dove,
Your eyes may dwell on one on whom falls not
The first chill breath blown from the Unknown Land,
Of which the tender poets of the Shee
Sing in the dewy eves when the wild deer
Are milked, and 'neath the evening-star moths rise
Grey-gold against a wave-uplifted moon.

Etain
Well?

Dalua
Then I, Dalua, in that fateful hour,
Shall know the star-song of supreme desire,
And placing hand upon the perfect fruit
Shall taste and die....
[A pause
... or, if I do not die,
Shall know the sweet fruit mine, then see it slip
Down through dim branches into the abyss
Where all sweet fruit that is, the souls of men,
The joyous Shee, old gods, all beautiful words,
Song, music, dreams, desires, shall in the end
Sway like blown moths against the rosewhite flame
That is the fiery plume upon the brows
Of Him called Silence.

Etain
I do not understand:
Your love shall fall about me like sweet rain
In drouth of death: so much I hear and know:
But how can death o'ertake the immortal folk
With whom I dwell? And if you love me thus,
Why is there neither word nor smile nor glance
Of love, nor any little sign that love
Shakes like a windy reed within your heart?

Dalua
[Sombrely
I am Dalua.

Etain
I have heard lips whisper
Of one Dalua, but with sucked-in breath,
As though the lips were fearful of the word.
No more than this I know, no more recall.

Dalua
I cannot give you word of love, or kiss,
Sweet love, for in my fatal breath there lies
The subtle air of madness: from my hand
Death shoots an arrowy tongue, if I but touch
The unsuspecting clay with bitter heed,
With hate darkling as the swift winter hail,
Or sudden malice such as lifts and falls
A dreadful shadow of ill within my mind.
Nor could I if I would. We are sheep led
By an unknown Shepherd, we who are the Shee,
For all we dream we are as gods, and far
Upgathered from the little woes of men.

Etain
Then why this meeting, here in this old wood,
By moonlight, by this melancholy water?

Dalua
I knew not: now I know. A king of men
Has wooed the Immortal Hour. He seeks to know
The joy that is more great than joy
The beauty of the old green earth can give.
He has known dreams, and because bitter dreams
Have sweeter been than honey he has sought
The open road that lies mid shadowy things.
He hath sought and found and called upon the Shee
To lead his love to one more beautiful
Than any mortal maid, so fair that he
Shall know a joy beyond all mortal joy,
And stand silent and rapt beside the gate,
The rainbow gate of her whom none may find,
The Beauty of all Beauty.

Etain
Can this be?

Dalua
Nay, but he doth not know the end. There is
But one way to that Gate: it is not Love
Aflame with all desire, but Love at peace.

Etain
Who is this poet, this king?

Dalua
Led here by dreams,
By dreams and visions led as you and I,
His feet are nearing us. When you are won
By love and adoration, star of dreams,
And take sweet mortal clay, and have forgot
The love-sweet whisper of the King of The Shee,
And, even as now, hear Midir's name unmov'd
When you are won thus, Etain, and none know,
Not any of your kindred, whence unknown
As all unknowing you have come, for you
The wayward thistledown of fate shall blow
On the same idle wind—the doom of him
Who blindfold seeks you.

Etain
But he may not love?

Dalua
Yes, he shall love. Upon him I shall lay
My touch, the touch of him men dread and call
The Amadan-Dhu, the Dark One, Fairy Fool.
He shall have madness even as he wills,
And think it wisdom. I shall be his thought—
A dream within a dream, the flame wherein
The white moths of his thought shall rise and die.

[A blast of a horn is heard
Dalua
[Abruptly
Farewell.
[Touches her lightly with the shadow of his hand, and whispers in her ear
Now go. The huntsman's lodge is near.
I have told all that need be told, and given
Bewilderment and dreams, but dreams that are
The fruit of that sweet clay of which I spoke.

[Etain slowly goes, putting her hand to her head bewilderedly. Before she passes into and out of sight in the wood, she sings plaintively
Etain

Scene II.—The same.

[Dalua stands, waiting the coming of Eochaidh the king. The king is clad in a leathern hunting dress, with a cleft helmet surmounted by a dragon in pale findruiney
Eochaidh
[Stopping abruptly
Sir, I am glad. I had not thought to see
One here.

Dalua
[Taking off his cap, and sweeping it low
The king is welcome here.

Eochaidh
The king?
How know you that the king is here? Far off
The war-horns bray about my threatened Dûn.
None knows that I am here.

Dalua
And why, O king?

Eochaidh
For I am weary of wars and idle strife,
Who have no joy in all these little things
Men break their lives upon. But in my dreams,
In dreams I have seen that which climbs the stars
And sings upon me through my lonely hours
And will not let me be.

Dalua
What song is that?

Eochaidh
The song... but who is he who knows the king
Here in this dim, remote, forgotten wood,
Where led by dreams and visions I have come?

Dalua
Those led by dreams shall be misled, O king!

Eochaidh
You are no druid: no knight in arms: none
Whom I have seen.

Dalua
I have known camps of men,
The minds and souls of men, and I have heard
Eochaidh the king sighing out his soul in sighs.

Eochaidh
Tell me your name.

Dalua
I am called Dalua.

Eochaidh
[Ponderingly]
I have not heard that name, and yet in dreams
I have known one who waved a shadowy plume
And smiling said, “I am Dalua.” Speak:
Are you this same Dalua?

Dalua
I have come
To this lone wood and to this lonely mere
To drink from out the Fountain of all dreams,
The Shadowy Fount of Beauty.

Eochaidh
[Eagerly
At last!
The Fount of Beauty, Fountain of all dreams!
Now am I come upon my long desire!
The days have trampled me like armed men
Thrusting their spears as ever on they go,
And I am weary of all things save the stars,
The wind, shadows and moonrise, and strange dreams.
If you can show me this immortal Fount
Whatso you will is yours.

Dalua
[Touching him lightly
You are the king,
And know, now, whence you came, and to what end?

Eochaidh
[Confusedly
The king? The king? What king?

Dalua
You are the king?

Eochaidh
A king of shadows, I! I am no king.

Dalua
And whither now, and whence?

Eochaidh
I am not come
From any place I know of, and I go
Where dreams and visions lead me.

[Suddenly a fountain rises in the mere, the spray rising high in the moonshine
Dalua
Look, O king!

Eochaidh
[Staring eagerly, with hand above his eyes
I cannot see what you would have me see.

Dalua
[Plucking a branch from a mountainash, and waving it before the king's face
Look!

Eochaidh
I see a Fountain and within its shadow
A great fish swims, and on the moveless wave
The scarlet berries float: dim mid the depths
The face of One I see, most calm and great,
August, with mournful eyes.

Dalua
Ask what you will.

Eochaidh
The word of wisdom, O thou hidden God:
Show me my star of dreams, show me the way!

A Voice
[Solemnly
[Return, O Eochaidh Airemh, wandering king

Eochaidh
That shall not be. No backward way is mine.
If I indeed be king, then kingly I
Shall cleave my way through shadows, as through men.

A Voice
Return!

Eochaidh
Nay, by the Sun and Moon, I swear
I will not turn my feet.

A Voice
Return! Return!

Eochaidh
[Hesitating, turns to look at Dalua, who has swiftly and silently withdrawn into the wood
[Silence
There is no backward way for such as I!
Howbeit—for I am shaken with old dreams,
And as an idle wave tossed to and fro—
I will go hence: I will go back to where
The quiet moonlight spills from the black brow
Of the great hill that towers above the lands
Wherein men hail me king.

[Dalua's laughter comes from the wood
Dalua
Follow, O follow, king of dreams and shadows!

Eochaidh
I follow....

[Exit

Scene III.

—The rude interior of the cabin of the huntsman, Mánus. He is sitting, clad in deerskin, with strapped sandals, before a fire of pine-logs. Long, unkempt, black hair falls about his face. His wife, Maive, a worn woman with a scared look, stands at the back, plucking feathers from a dead cockerel. At the other side of the hearth, Etain sits.
Mánus
I've seen that man before who came to-night.
[He has addressed no one, and no one answers
I say I have seen that man before.

Maive
Hush Mánus
Beware of what you say. How can we tell
Who comes, who goes? And, too, good man, you've had
Three golden pieces.

Mánus
Aye, they are put by,
That comforts me: for gold is ever gold.

Maive
One was for her who stays with us to-night
And shares our scanty fare.
[Making a curtsey
Right welcome, too:
The other was for any who might come,
Asking for bite or sup, for fireside warmth.
The third....

Mánus
Yes, woman, yes, I know: for silence. Hush!
[A moan of wind is heard
There comes the rain.

Etain
[Rising and going to the left doorway, pulls back the hide. Shuddering, she thrusts it crosswise again, and returns
It was so beautiful,
So still, with not a breath of wind, and now
The hill-wind moans, the night is filled with tears
Of bitter rain. Good people, have you seen
Such quiet eves fall into stormy nights
Before?

Mánus
Who knows the wild way of the wind:
The wild way of the rain? They come, and go:
We stay. We wait. We listen. Not for us
To ask, to wonder.

Maive
They're more great than we.
They are so old, the wind and rain, so old,
They know all things, Grey Feathers and Blind Eyes!

Etain
Who? ... Who? ...

Mánus
... the woman speaks of Wind and Rain:
Blind Eyes, the dreadful one whom none has seen,
Whose voice we hear: Grey Feathers, his pale love,
Who flies before or follows, grey in rains,
Fierce blue in hail, death-white in whirling snows.

Etain
Does any ever come to you by night?
... lost woodlander, stray wayfarer from the hills,
Merchant or warrior from the far-off plains?

Mánus
None.

Maive
We are so far away: so far, I think
Sometimes, we must be close upon the edge
Of the green earth, there where the old tales say
The bramble-bushes and the heather make
A hollow tangle over the abyss.

Etain
But sometimes ... sometimes.... Tell me: have you heard,
By dusk or moonset have you never heard
Sweet voices, delicate music? ... never seen
The passage of the lordly beautiful ones
Men call the Shee?

Mánus
[Rising abruptly
We do not speak of them.

Maive
Hark!

[A stronger blast strikes the house. Mánus throws more logs on the fire
Maive
Hark! a second time I've heard a cry!

[All listen. Suddenly a loud knock is heard. Maive covers her head, and cowers beside the fire, behind Etain, who rises. Mánus seizes a spear, and stands waiting. The heavy knock is repeated
A Voice
Open, good folk!

Mánus
There is no door to ope:
Thrust back the skins from off the post.

[The ox-fell is thrust aside, and Eochaidh enters. He stops at the threshold, staring at Etain
Eochaidh
Good folk,
I give you greeting.
[A pause
Lady, I bow my knee.
[Etain bows slowly in return. Eochaidh comes a few steps forward, stops, and looks fixedly at Etain. He says slowly—
You have great beauty.
[A pause
I have never seen
Beauty so great, so wonderful. In dreams,
In dreams alone such beauty have I seen,
A star above my dusk.

Etain
Sir, I pray you
Draw near the fire. This bitter wind and rain
Must sure have chilled you.

[She points to her vacant three-legged stool. As Eochaidh slowly passes her, Mánus slides his hand over his shoulder and back
Mánus
[With a strange look at Maive
He is not wet. The driving rains have left
No single drop!

Maive
[Piteously
Good sir! brave lord! good sir!
Have pity on us: sir, have pity!
We are poor, and all alone, and have no wile
To save ourselves from great ones, or from those
Who dwell in secret places on the hills
Or wander where they will in shadow clothed.

Mánus
Hush, woman! Name no names: and speak no word
Of them who come unbidden and unknown.
Good, sir, you are most welcome. I am Mánus,
And this poor woman is Maive, my childless wife,
And this is a great lady of the land
Who shelters here to-night. Her name is Etain.

Eochaidh
Tell me, good Mánus: who else is here, or whom
You may expect?

Mánus
No one, fair lord. The wild
Gray stormy seas are doors that shut the world
From us poor island-folk....

Maive
We are alone,
We're all alone, fair sir: there is none here
But whom you see. Gray Feathers and Blind Eyes
Are all we know without.

Eochaidh
Who are these others?

Mánus
The woman speaks, sir, of the Wind and Rain.
These unknown gods are as all gods that are,
And do not love to have their sacred names
Used lightly: so we speak of him who lifts
A ceaseless wing across all lands and seas,
Moaning or glad, and flieth all unseeing
From darkness into darkness, as Blind Eyes:
And her, his lovely bride, for he is deaf and so
Veers this way and that for ever, seeing not
His love who breaks in tears beneath his wings
Or falls in snows before his frosty breath—
Her we name thus, Grey Feathers.

Maive
As for us,
We are poor lonely folk, and mean no wrong.
Sir, sir, if you are of the nameless ones,
The noble nameless ones, do us no ill!

Eochaidh
Good folk, I mean no ill. Nor am I made
Of other clay than yours. I am a man.
Let me have shelter here to-night: to-morrow
I will go hence.

Mánus
You are most welcome, sir.

Eochaidh
And you, fair Etain, is it with your will
That I be sheltered from the wind and rain?

Etain
How could I grudge you that ungrudged to me? [Mánus and Maive withdraw into the background.. The light wanes, as the logs give less flame. Eochaidh speaks in a low, strained voice

Etain, fair beautiful love, at last I know
Why dreams have led me hither. All these years
These eyes like stars have led me: all these years
This love that dwells like moonlight in your face
Has been the wind that moved my idle wave.
Forgive presumptuous words. I mean no ill.
I am a king, and kingly. Ard-Righ, I am,
Ard-Righ of Eiré.

Etain
And your name, fair lord?

Eochaidh
Eochaidh Airemh.

Etain
And I am Etain called,
Daughter of lordly ones, of princely line.
But more I cannot say, for on my mind
A strange forgetful cloud bewilders me,
And I have memory only of those things
Of which I cannot speak, being under bond
To keep the silence of my lordly folk.
How I came here, or to what end, or why
I am left here, I know not.

Eochaidh
Truly, I
[Taking her hand in his
Now know full well.
Etain, dear love, my dreams
Come true. I have seen this dim pale face in dreams
For days and months and years; till at the last
Too great a spell of beauty held my hours.
My kingdom was no more to me than sand,
Or a green palace built of August leaves
Already yellowing, waiting for the wind
To scatter them to north and south and east.
I have forgotten all that men hold dear,
And given my kinghood to the wheeling crows,
The trampling desert hinds, the snarling fox.
I have no thought, no dream, no hope, but this—
[Kissing her upon the brow
To call you love, to take you hence, my Queen—
Queen of my Heart, my Queen, my Dream, my Queen!

Etain
[Looking into his face, with thrownback head
I too, I too, am lifted with the breath
Of a tumultous wind. My lord and king,
I too am lit with fire, which fills my heart,
And lifts it like a flame to burn with thine,
To pass and be at one and flame in thine,
My, lord, my king! My lord, my lord, my king!

Eochaidh
The years, the bitter years of all the world
Are now no more. We have gained that which stands
Above the trampling feet of hurrying years.

[A brief burst of mocking laughter is heard
Eochaidh
[Turning angrily. and looking into the shadowy background where are

Mánus and Maive
Who laughed? What means that laughter?

Mánus
[Sullenly
No one laughed.

Eochaidh
Who laughed? Who laughed?

Maive
Grey Feathers and Blind Eyes.

Etain
[Wearily
None laughed. It was the hooting of an owl.
Dear lord, sit here. I am weary.

[Mánus and Maive withdraw, and lie down. Eochaidh and Etain sit before the smouldering fire. The room darkens. Suddenly Eochaidh leans forward, and whispers
Eochaidh
Etain!
Etain, dear love!

Etain
[Not looking at him, and slowly swaying as she sings

[Darkness, save for the red flame in the heart of the fire.