I have heard
A sound of wailing in unnumbered hovels,
And I must go down, down, I know not where.
A sound of wailing in unnumbered hovels,
And I must go down, down, I know not where.
Yeats
Age by age
The clay wars with His fingers and pleads hard
For its old, heavy, dull, and shapeless ease;
At times it crumbles and a nation falls,
Now moves awry and demon hordes are born.
[_The peasants cross themselves. _
But leave me now, for I am desolate,
I hear a whisper from beyond the thunder.
[_She steps down from the oratory door. _
Yet stay an instant. When we meet again
I may have grown forgetful. Oona, take
These two--the larder and the dairy keys.
[_To THE OLD PEASANT. _] But take you this. It opens the small room
Of herbs for medicine, of hellebore,
Of vervain, monkshood, plantain, and self-heal
And all the others; and the book of cures
Is on the upper shelf. You understand,
Because you doctored goats and cattle once.
THE OLD PEASANT.
Why do you do this, lady--did you see
Your coffin in a dream?
CATHLEEN.
Ah, no, not that,
A sad resolve wakes in me.
I have heard
A sound of wailing in unnumbered hovels,
And I must go down, down, I know not where.
Pray for the poor folk who are crazed with famine;
Pray, you good neighbours.
[_The peasants all kneel. The COUNTESS CATHLEEN ascends
the steps to the door of the oratory, and, turning
round, stands there motionless for a little, and then
cries in a loud voice. _]
Mary, queen of angels,
And all you clouds on clouds of saints, farewell!
ACT IV.
_The cabin of SHEMUS RUA. The TWO MERCHANTS are sitting
one at each end of the table, with rolls of parchment
and many little heaps of gold before them. Through an
open door, at the back, one sees into an inner room, in
which there is a bed. On the bed is the body of MAIRE
with candles about it. _
FIRST MERCHANT.
The woman may keep robbing us no more,
For there are only mice now in her coffers.
SECOND MERCHANT.
Last night, closed in the image of an owl,
I hurried to the cliffs of Donegal,
And saw, creeping on the uneasy surge,
Those ships that bring the woman grain and meal;
They are five days from us.
FIRST MERCHANT.
I hurried East,
A gray owl flitting, flitting in the dew,
And saw nine hundred oxen toil through Meath
Driven on by goads of iron; they, too, brother,
Are full five days from us.
The clay wars with His fingers and pleads hard
For its old, heavy, dull, and shapeless ease;
At times it crumbles and a nation falls,
Now moves awry and demon hordes are born.
[_The peasants cross themselves. _
But leave me now, for I am desolate,
I hear a whisper from beyond the thunder.
[_She steps down from the oratory door. _
Yet stay an instant. When we meet again
I may have grown forgetful. Oona, take
These two--the larder and the dairy keys.
[_To THE OLD PEASANT. _] But take you this. It opens the small room
Of herbs for medicine, of hellebore,
Of vervain, monkshood, plantain, and self-heal
And all the others; and the book of cures
Is on the upper shelf. You understand,
Because you doctored goats and cattle once.
THE OLD PEASANT.
Why do you do this, lady--did you see
Your coffin in a dream?
CATHLEEN.
Ah, no, not that,
A sad resolve wakes in me.
I have heard
A sound of wailing in unnumbered hovels,
And I must go down, down, I know not where.
Pray for the poor folk who are crazed with famine;
Pray, you good neighbours.
[_The peasants all kneel. The COUNTESS CATHLEEN ascends
the steps to the door of the oratory, and, turning
round, stands there motionless for a little, and then
cries in a loud voice. _]
Mary, queen of angels,
And all you clouds on clouds of saints, farewell!
ACT IV.
_The cabin of SHEMUS RUA. The TWO MERCHANTS are sitting
one at each end of the table, with rolls of parchment
and many little heaps of gold before them. Through an
open door, at the back, one sees into an inner room, in
which there is a bed. On the bed is the body of MAIRE
with candles about it. _
FIRST MERCHANT.
The woman may keep robbing us no more,
For there are only mice now in her coffers.
SECOND MERCHANT.
Last night, closed in the image of an owl,
I hurried to the cliffs of Donegal,
And saw, creeping on the uneasy surge,
Those ships that bring the woman grain and meal;
They are five days from us.
FIRST MERCHANT.
I hurried East,
A gray owl flitting, flitting in the dew,
And saw nine hundred oxen toil through Meath
Driven on by goads of iron; they, too, brother,
Are full five days from us.
