They need a music that can mix itself
Into imagination, but not break
The steady thinking that the hard game needs.
Into imagination, but not break
The steady thinking that the hard game needs.
Yeats
_]
Had you been here when that man and his queen
Played at so high a game, could you have found
An ancient poem for the praise of it?
It should have set out plainly that those two,
Because no man and woman have loved better,
Might sit on there contentedly, and weigh
The joy comes after. I have heard the seamew
Sat there, with all the colour in her cheeks,
As though she'd say: 'There's nothing happening
But that a king and queen are playing chess. '
DEIRDRE.
He's in the right, though I have not been born
Of the cold, haughty waves. My veins are hot.
But though I have loved better than that queen,
I'll have as quiet fingers on the board.
Oh, singing women, set it down in a book
That love is all we need, even though it is
But the last drops we gather up like this;
And though the drops are all we have known of life,
For we have been most friendless--praise us for it
And praise the double sunset, for naught's lacking,
But a good end to the long, cloudy day.
NAISI.
Light torches there and drive the shadows out,
For day's red end comes up.
[_A MUSICIAN lights a torch in the fire and then
crosses before the chess-players, and slowly lights the
torches in the sconces. The light is almost gone from
the wood, but there is a clear evening light in the
sky, increasing the sense of solitude and loneliness. _
DEIRDRE.
Make no sad music.
What is it but a king and queen at chess?
They need a music that can mix itself
Into imagination, but not break
The steady thinking that the hard game needs.
[_During the chess, the MUSICIANS sing this song. _]
Love is an immoderate thing
And can never be content,
Till it dip an ageing wing,
Where some laughing element
Leaps and Time's old lanthorn dims.
What's the merit in love-play,
In the tumult of the limbs
That dies out before 'tis day,
Heart on heart, or mouth on mouth,
All that mingling of our breath,
When love-longing is but drouth
For the things come after death?
[_During the last verses DEIRDRE rises from the board
and kneels at NAISI'S feet. _]
DEIRDRE.
I cannot go on playing like that woman
That had but the cold blood of the sea in her veins.
NAISI.
It is your move. Take up your man again.
DEIRDRE.
Do you remember that first night in the woods
We lay all night on leaves, and looking up,
When the first grey of the dawn awoke the birds,
Saw leaves above us. You thought that I still slept,
And bending down to kiss me on the eyes,
Found they were open. Bend and kiss me now,
For it may be the last before our death.
And when that's over, we'll be different;
Imperishable things, a cloud or a fire.
And I know nothing but this body, nothing
But that old vehement, bewildering kiss.
Had you been here when that man and his queen
Played at so high a game, could you have found
An ancient poem for the praise of it?
It should have set out plainly that those two,
Because no man and woman have loved better,
Might sit on there contentedly, and weigh
The joy comes after. I have heard the seamew
Sat there, with all the colour in her cheeks,
As though she'd say: 'There's nothing happening
But that a king and queen are playing chess. '
DEIRDRE.
He's in the right, though I have not been born
Of the cold, haughty waves. My veins are hot.
But though I have loved better than that queen,
I'll have as quiet fingers on the board.
Oh, singing women, set it down in a book
That love is all we need, even though it is
But the last drops we gather up like this;
And though the drops are all we have known of life,
For we have been most friendless--praise us for it
And praise the double sunset, for naught's lacking,
But a good end to the long, cloudy day.
NAISI.
Light torches there and drive the shadows out,
For day's red end comes up.
[_A MUSICIAN lights a torch in the fire and then
crosses before the chess-players, and slowly lights the
torches in the sconces. The light is almost gone from
the wood, but there is a clear evening light in the
sky, increasing the sense of solitude and loneliness. _
DEIRDRE.
Make no sad music.
What is it but a king and queen at chess?
They need a music that can mix itself
Into imagination, but not break
The steady thinking that the hard game needs.
[_During the chess, the MUSICIANS sing this song. _]
Love is an immoderate thing
And can never be content,
Till it dip an ageing wing,
Where some laughing element
Leaps and Time's old lanthorn dims.
What's the merit in love-play,
In the tumult of the limbs
That dies out before 'tis day,
Heart on heart, or mouth on mouth,
All that mingling of our breath,
When love-longing is but drouth
For the things come after death?
[_During the last verses DEIRDRE rises from the board
and kneels at NAISI'S feet. _]
DEIRDRE.
I cannot go on playing like that woman
That had but the cold blood of the sea in her veins.
NAISI.
It is your move. Take up your man again.
DEIRDRE.
Do you remember that first night in the woods
We lay all night on leaves, and looking up,
When the first grey of the dawn awoke the birds,
Saw leaves above us. You thought that I still slept,
And bending down to kiss me on the eyes,
Found they were open. Bend and kiss me now,
For it may be the last before our death.
And when that's over, we'll be different;
Imperishable things, a cloud or a fire.
And I know nothing but this body, nothing
But that old vehement, bewildering kiss.
