No More Learning

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.

CATHLEEN.

Tympan and harp awaken wandering dreams.

A VOICE [_without_].

You may not see the Countess.

ANOTHER VOICE.

I must see her.

[_Sound of a short struggle. A SERVANT enters from door
to R. _

SERVANT.

The gardener is resolved to speak with you.
I cannot stay him.

CATHLEEN.

You may come, Maurteen.

[_The GARDENER, an old man, comes in from the R.