Mavrone,
That my good mistress should lose all this money.
That my good mistress should lose all this money.
Yeats
I heard naught at all.
THE OLD PEASANT.
Ay, we are timid, for a rich man's word
Can shake our houses, and a moon of drouth
Shrivel our seedlings in the barren earth;
We are the slaves of wind, and hail, and flood;
Fear jogs our elbow in the market-place,
And nods beside us on the chimney-seat.
Ill-bodings are as native unto our hearts
As are their spots unto the woodpeckers.
CATHLEEN.
You need not shake with bodings in this house.
[_OONA enters from the door to L. _
OONA.
The treasure-room is broken in--mavrone--mavrone;
The door stands open and the gold is gone.
[_The peasants raise a lamenting cry. _
CATHLEEN.
Be silent. [_The cry ceases. _
Saw you any one?
OONA.
Mavrone,
That my good mistress should lose all this money.
CATHLEEN.
You three upon my right hand, ride and ride;
I will give a farm to him who finds the thieves.
[_A man with keys at his girdle has entered while she
was speaking. _
A PEASANT.
The porter trembles.
THE PORTER.
It is all no use;
Demons were here. I sat beside the door
In my stone niche, and two owls passed me by,
Whispering with human voices.
THE OLD PEASANT.
God forsakes us.
CATHLEEN.
Old man, old man, He never closed a door
Unless one opened. I am desolate,
For a most sad resolve wakes in my heart:
But always I have faith. Old men and women,
Be silent; He does not forsake the world,
But stands before it modelling in the clay
And moulding there His image. 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 OLD PEASANT.
Ay, we are timid, for a rich man's word
Can shake our houses, and a moon of drouth
Shrivel our seedlings in the barren earth;
We are the slaves of wind, and hail, and flood;
Fear jogs our elbow in the market-place,
And nods beside us on the chimney-seat.
Ill-bodings are as native unto our hearts
As are their spots unto the woodpeckers.
CATHLEEN.
You need not shake with bodings in this house.
[_OONA enters from the door to L. _
OONA.
The treasure-room is broken in--mavrone--mavrone;
The door stands open and the gold is gone.
[_The peasants raise a lamenting cry. _
CATHLEEN.
Be silent. [_The cry ceases. _
Saw you any one?
OONA.
Mavrone,
That my good mistress should lose all this money.
CATHLEEN.
You three upon my right hand, ride and ride;
I will give a farm to him who finds the thieves.
[_A man with keys at his girdle has entered while she
was speaking. _
A PEASANT.
The porter trembles.
THE PORTER.
It is all no use;
Demons were here. I sat beside the door
In my stone niche, and two owls passed me by,
Whispering with human voices.
THE OLD PEASANT.
God forsakes us.
CATHLEEN.
Old man, old man, He never closed a door
Unless one opened. I am desolate,
For a most sad resolve wakes in my heart:
But always I have faith. Old men and women,
Be silent; He does not forsake the world,
But stands before it modelling in the clay
And moulding there His image. 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.
