No More Learning

And I would have all know that when all falls
In ruin, poetry calls out in joy,
Being the scattering hand, the bursting pod,
The victim's joy among the holy flame,
God's laughter at the shattering of the world.
And now that joy laughs out, and weeps and burns
On these bare steps.

YOUNGEST PUPIL.

O master, do not die!

OLDEST PUPIL.

Trouble him with no useless argument.
Be silent! There is nothing we can do
Except find out the King and kneel to him,
And beg our ancient right.
For here are some
To say whatever we could say and more,
And fare as badly. Come, boy, that is no use.

[_Raises YOUNGEST PUPIL. _

If it seem well that we beseech the King,
Lay down your harps and trumpets on the stones
In silence, and come with me silently.
Come with slow footfalls, and bow all your heads,
For a bowed head becomes a mourner best.

[_They lay harps and trumpets down one by one, and then
go out very solemnly and slowly, following one another.
Enter MAYOR, TWO CRIPPLES, and BRIAN, an old servant.
The mayor, who has been heard, before he came upon
the stage, muttering _'Chief Poet,' 'Ireland,' etc. _,
crosses in front of SEANCHAN to the other side of the
steps. BRIAN takes food out of basket. The CRIPPLES are
watching the basket. The MAYOR has an Ogham stick in
his hand. _

MAYOR.

[_As he crosses. _]

'Chief Poet,' 'Ireland,' 'Townsman,' 'Grazing land,'
Those are the words I have to keep in mind--
'Chief Poet,' 'Ireland,' 'Townsman,' 'Grazing land. '
I have the words. They are all upon the Ogham.
'Chief Poet,' 'Ireland,' 'Townsman,' 'Grazing land. '
But what's their order?

[_He keeps muttering over his speech during what
follows. _

FIRST CRIPPLE.

The King were rightly served
If Seanchan drove his good luck away.
What's there about a king, that's in the world
From birth to burial like another man,
That he should change old customs, that were in it
As long as ever the world has been a world?