No More Learning

This stool and this chair here will make good fuel.

[_He begins breaking the chair. _

My master will break up the sun and moon
And quench the stars in the ancestral night
And overturn the thrones of God and the angels.




ACT II.


_A great hall in the castle of the COUNTESS CATHLEEN.
There is a large window at the farther end, through
which the forest is visible. The wall to the right
juts out slightly, cutting off an angle of the room. A
flight of stone steps leads up to a small arched door
in the jutting wall. Through the door can be seen a
little oratory. The hall is hung with ancient tapestry,
representing the loves and wars and huntings of the
Fenian and Red Branch heroes. There are doors to the
right and left. On the left side OONA sits, as if
asleep, beside a spinning-wheel. The COUNTESS CATHLEEN
stands farther back and more to the right, close to
a group of the musicians, still in their fantastic
dresses, who are playing a merry tune. _

CATHLEEN.

Be silent, I am tired of tympan and harp,
And tired of music that but cries 'Sleep, sleep,'
Till joy and sorrow and hope and terror are gone.
[_The COUNTESS CATHLEEN goes over to OONA. _

You were asleep?

OONA.

No, child, I was but thinking
Why you have grown so sad.

CATHLEEN.

The famine frets me.

OONA.

I have lived now near ninety winters, child,
And I have known three things no doctor cures--
Love, loneliness, and famine; nor found refuge
Other than growing old and full of sleep.
See you where Oisin and young Niamh ride
Wrapped in each other's arms, and where the Fenians
Follow their hounds along the fields of tapestry;
How merry they lived once, yet men died then.
Sit down by me, and I will chaunt the song
About the Danaan nations in their raths
That Aleel sang for you by the great door
Before we lost him in the shadow of leaves.

CATHLEEN.

No, sing the song he sang in the dim light,
When we first found him in the shadow of leaves,
About King Fergus in his brazen car
Driving with troops of dancers through the woods.

[_She crouches down on the floor, and lays her head on
OONA'S knees. _

OONA.

Dear heart, make a soft cradle of old tales,
And songs, and music: wherefore should you sadden
For wrongs you cannot hinder? The great God
Smiling condemns the lost: be mirthful: He
Bids youth be merry and old age be wise.