Part 3

Some may have blamed you that you took away The verses that could move them on the day When, the ears being deafened, the sight of the eyes blind With lightning you went from me, and I could find Nothing to make a song about but kings, Helmets, and swords, and half-forgotten things That were like memories of you--but now We'll out, for the world lives as long ago; And while we're in our laughing, weeping fit, Hurl helmets, crowns, and swords into the pit. But, dear, cling close to me; since you were gone, My barren thoughts have chilled me to the bone.

KING AND NO KING

'Would it were anything but merely voice!' The No King cried who after that was King, Because he had not heard of anything That balanced with a word is more than noise; Yet Old Romance being kind, let him prevail Somewhere or somehow that I have forgot, Though he'd but cannon--Whereas we that had thought To have lit upon as clean and sweet a tale Have been defeated by that pledge you gave In momentary anger long ago; And I that have not your faith, how shall I know That in the blinding light beyond the grave We'll find so good a thing as that we have lost? The hourly kindness, the day's common speech, The habitual content of each with each When neither soul nor body has been crossed.

PEACE

Ah, that Time could touch a form That could show what Homer's age Bred to be a hero's wage. 'Were not all her life but storm, Would not painters paint a form Of such noble lines,' I said, 'Such a delicate high head, All that sternness amid charm, All that sweetness amid strength?' Ah, but peace that comes at length, Came when Time had touched her form.

AGAINST UNWORTHY PRAISE

O heart, be at peace, because Nor knave nor dolt can break What's not for their applause, Being for a woman's sake. Enough if the work has seemed, So did she your strength renew, A dream that a lion had dreamed Till the wilderness cried aloud, A secret between you two, Between the proud and the proud.

What, still you would have their praise! But here's a haughtier text, The labyrinth of her days That her own strangeness perplexed; And how what her dreaming gave Earned slander, ingratitude, From self-same dolt and knave; Aye, and worse wrong than these, Yet she, singing upon her road, Half lion, half child, is at peace.

THE FASCINATION OF WHAT'S DIFFICULT

The fascination of what's difficult Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent Spontaneous joy and natural content Out of my heart. There's something ails our colt That must, as if it had not holy blood, Nor on an Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud, Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and jolt As though it dragged road metal. My curse on plays That have to be set up in fifty ways, On the day's war with every knave and dolt, Theatre business, management of men. I swear before the dawn comes round again I'll find the stable and pull out the bolt.

A DRINKING SONG

Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That's all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die. I lift the glass to my mouth, I look at you, and I sigh.

THE COMING OF WISDOM WITH TIME

Though leaves are many, the root is one; Through all the lying days of my youth I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun; Now I may wither into the truth.

ON HEARING THAT THE STUDENTS OF OUR NEW UNIVERSITY HAVE JOINED THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS AND THE AGITATION AGAINST IMMORAL LITERATURE

Where, where but here have Pride and Truth, That long to give themselves for wage, To shake their wicked sides at youth Restraining reckless middle-age.

TO A POET, WHO WOULD HAVE ME PRAISE CERTAIN BAD POETS, IMITATORS OF HIS AND MINE

You say, as I have often given tongue In praise of what another's said or sung, 'Twere politic to do the like by these; But have you known a dog to praise his fleas?

THE MASK

'Put off that mask of burning gold With emerald eyes.' 'O no, my dear, you make so bold To find if hearts be wild and wise, And yet not cold.'

'I would but find what's there to find, Love or deceit.' 'It was the mask engaged your mind, And after set your heart to beat, Not what's behind.'

'But lest you are my enemy, I must enquire.' 'O no, my dear, let all that be, What matter, so there is but fire In you, in me?'

UPON A HOUSE SHAKEN BY THE LAND AGITATION

How should the world be luckier if this house, Where passion and precision have been one Time out of mind, became too ruinous To breed the lidless eye that loves the sun? And the sweet laughing eagle thoughts that grow Where wings have memory of wings, and all That comes of the best knit to the best? Although Mean roof-trees were the sturdier for its fall, How should their luck run high enough to reach The gifts that govern men, and after these To gradual Time's last gift, a written speech Wrought of high laughter, loveliness and ease?

AT THE ABBEY THEATRE

(_Imitated from Ronsard_)

Dear Craoibhin Aoibhin, look into our case. When we are high and airy hundreds say That if we hold that flight they'll leave the place, While those same hundreds mock another day Because we have made our art of common things, So bitterly, you'd dream they longed to look All their lives through into some drift of wings. You've dandled them and fed them from the book And know them to the bone; impart to us-- We'll keep the secret--a new trick to please. Is there a bridle for this Proteus That turns and changes like his draughty seas? Or is there none, most popular of men, But when they mock us that we mock again?

THESE ARE THE CLOUDS

These are the clouds about the fallen sun, The majesty that shuts his burning eye; The weak lay hand on what the strong has done, Till that be tumbled that was lifted high And discord follow upon unison, And all things at one common level lie. And therefore, friend, if your great race were run And these things came, so much the more thereby Have you made greatness your companion, Although it be for children that you sigh: These are the clouds about the fallen sun, The majesty that shuts his burning eye.

AT GALWAY RACES

There where the course is, Delight makes all of the one mind, The riders upon the galloping horses, The crowd that closes in behind: We, too, had good attendance once, Hearers and hearteners of the work; Aye, horsemen for companions, Before the merchant and the clerk Breathed on the world with timid breath. Sing on: sometime, and at some new moon, We'll learn that sleeping is not death, Hearing the whole earth change its tune, Its flesh being wild, and it again Crying aloud as the race course is, And we find hearteners among men That ride upon horses.

A FRIEND'S ILLNESS

Sickness brought me this Thought, in that scale of his: Why should I be dismayed Though flame had burned the whole World, as it were a coal, Now I have seen it weighed Against a soul?

ALL THINGS CAN TEMPT ME

All things can tempt me from this craft of verse: One time it was a woman's face, or worse-- The seeming needs of my fool-driven land; Now nothing but comes readier to the hand Than this accustomed toil. When I was young, I had not given a penny for a song Did not the poet sing it with such airs That one believed he had a sword upstairs; Yet would be now, could I but have my wish, Colder and dumber and deafer than a fish.

THE YOUNG MAN'S SONG

I whispered, 'I am too young,' And then, 'I am old enough;' Wherefore I threw a penny To find out if I might love. 'Go and love, go and love, young man, If the lady be young and fair.' Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny, I am looped in the loops of her hair.

Oh, love is the crooked thing, There is nobody wise enough To find out all that is in it, For he would be thinking of love Till the stars had run away, And the shadows eaten the moon. Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny, One cannot begin it too soon.

* * * * *

THE HOUR-GLASS

NEW VERSION--1912

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

WISE MAN. BRIDGET, his wife. TEIGUE, a fool. ANGEL. Children and Pupils.

_Pupils come in and stand before the stage curtain, which is still closed. One pupil carries a book._

FIRST PUPIL

He said we might choose the subject for the lesson.

SECOND PUPIL

There is none of us wise enough to do that.

THIRD PUPIL

It would need a great deal of wisdom to know what it is we want to know.

FOURTH PUPIL

I will question him.

FIFTH PUPIL

You?

FOURTH PUPIL

Last night I dreamt that some one came and told me to question him. I was to say to him, 'You were wrong to say there is no God and no soul--maybe, if there is not much of either, there is yet some tatters, some tag on the wind--so to speak--some rag upon a bush, some bob-tail of a god.' I will argue with him,--nonsense though it be--according to my dream, and you will see how well I can argue, and what thoughts I have.

FIRST PUPIL

I'd as soon listen to dried peas in a bladder, as listen to your thoughts.

[_Fool comes in._

FOOL

Give me a penny.

SECOND PUPIL

Let us choose a subject by chance. Here is his big book. Let us turn over the pages slowly. Let one of us put down his finger without looking. The passage his finger lights on will be the subject for the lesson.

FOOL

Give me a penny.

THIRD PUPIL

(_Taking up book_) How heavy it is.

FOURTH PUPIL

Spread it on Teigue's back, and then we can all stand round and see the choice.

SECOND PUPIL

Make him spread out his arms.

FOURTH PUPIL

Down on your knees. Hunch up your back. Spread your arms out now, and look like a golden eagle in a church. Keep still, keep still.

FOOL

Give me a penny.

THIRD PUPIL

Is that the right cry for an eagle cock?

SECOND PUPIL

I'll turn the pages--you close your eyes and put your finger down.

THIRD PUPIL

That's it, and then he cannot blame us for the choice.

FIRST PUPIL

There, I have chosen. Fool, keep still--and if what's wise is strange and sounds like nonsense, we've made a good choice.

FIFTH PUPIL

The Master has come.

FOOL

Will anybody give a penny to a fool?

[_One of the pupils draws back the stage curtain showing the Master sitting at his desk. There is an hour-glass upon his desk or in a bracket on the wall. One pupil puts the book before him._

FIRST PUPIL

We have chosen the passage for the lesson, Master. 'There are two living countries, one visible and one invisible, and when it is summer there, it is winter here, and when it is November with us, it is lambing-time there.'

WISE MAN

That passage, that passage! what mischief has there been since yesterday?

FIRST PUPIL

None, Master.

WISE MAN

Oh yes, there has; some craziness has fallen from the wind, or risen from the graves of old men, and made you choose that subject.

FOURTH PUPIL

I knew that it was folly, but they would have it.

THIRD PUPIL

Had we not better say we picked it by chance?

SECOND PUPIL

No; he would say we were children still.

FIRST PUPIL

I have found a sentence under that one that says--as though to show it had a hidden meaning--a beggar wrote it upon the walls of Babylon.

WISE MAN

Then find some beggar and ask him what it means, for I will have nothing to do with it.

FOURTH PUPIL

Come, Teigue, what is the old book's meaning when it says that there are sheep that drop their lambs in November?

FOOL

To be sure--everybody knows, everybody in the world knows, when it is Spring with us, the trees are withering there, when it is Summer with us, the snow is falling there, and have I not myself heard the lambs that are there all bleating on a cold November day--to be sure, does not everybody with an intellect know that; and maybe when it's night with us, it is day with them, for many a time I have seen the roads lighted before me.

WISE MAN

The beggar who wrote that on Babylon wall meant that there is a spiritual kingdom that cannot be seen or known till the faculties whereby we master the kingdom of this world wither away, like green things in winter. A monkish thought, the most mischievous thought that ever passed out of a man's mouth.

FIRST PUPIL

If he meant all that, I will take an oath that he was spindle-shanked, and cross-eyed, and had a lousy itching shoulder, and that his heart was crosser than his eyes, and that he wrote it out of malice.

SECOND PUPIL

Let's come away and find a better subject.

FOURTH PUPIL

And maybe now you'll let me choose.

FIRST PUPIL

Come.

WISE MAN

Were it but true 'twould alter everything Until the stream of the world had changed its course, And that and all our thoughts had run Into some cloudy thunderous spring They dream to be its source-- Aye, to some frenzy of the mind; And all that we have done would be undone, Our speculation but as the wind.

[_A pause._

I have dreamed it twice.

FIRST PUPIL

Something has troubled him.

[_Pupils go out._

WISE MAN

Twice have I dreamed it in a morning dream, Now nothing serves my pupils but to come With a like thought. Reason is growing dim; A moment more and Frenzy will beat his drum And laugh aloud and scream; And I must dance in the dream. No, no, but it is like a hawk, a hawk of the air, It has swooped down--and this swoop makes the third-- And what can I, but tremble like a bird?

FOOL

Give me a penny.

WISE MAN

That I should dream it twice, and after that, that they should pick it out.

FOOL

Won't you give me a penny?

WISE MAN

What do you want? What can it matter to you whether the words I am reading are wisdom or sheer folly?

FOOL

Such a great, wise teacher will not refuse a penny to a fool.

WISE MAN

Seeing that everybody is a fool when he is asleep and dreaming, why do you call me wise?

FOOL

O, I know,--I know, I know what I have seen.

WISE MAN

Well, to see rightly is the whole of wisdom, whatever dream be with us.

FOOL

When I went by Kilcluan, where the bells used to be ringing at the break of every day, I could hear nothing but the people snoring in their houses. When I went by Tubbervanach, where the young men used to be climbing the hill to the blessed well, they were sitting at the cross-roads playing cards. When I went by Carrigoras, where the friars used to be fasting and serving the poor, I saw them drinking wine and obeying their wives. And when I asked what misfortune had brought all these changes, they said it was no misfortune, but that it was the wisdom they had learned from your teaching.

WISE MAN

And you too have called me wise--you would be paid for that good opinion doubtless--Run to the kitchen, my wife will give you food and drink.

FOOL

That's foolish advice for a wise man to give.

WISE MAN

Why, Fool?

FOOL

What is eaten is gone--I want pennies for my bag. I must buy bacon in the shops, and nuts in the market, and strong drink for the time the sun is weak, and snares to catch the rabbits and the hares, and a big pot to cook them in.

WISE MAN

I have more to think about than giving pennies to your like, so run away.

FOOL

Give me a penny and I will bring you luck. The fishermen let me sleep among their nets in the loft because I bring them luck; and in the summer time, the wild creatures let me sleep near their nests and their holes. It is lucky even to look at me, but it is much more lucky to give me a penny. If I was not lucky I would starve.

WISE MAN

What are the shears for?

FOOL

I won't tell you. If I told you, you would drive them away.

WISE MAN

Drive them away! Who would I drive away?

FOOL

I won't tell you.

WISE MAN

Not if I give you a penny?

FOOL

No.

WISE MAN

Not if I give you two pennies?

FOOL

You will be very lucky if you give me two pennies, but I won't tell you.

WISE MAN

Three pennies?

FOOL

Four, and I will tell you.

WISE MAN

Very well--four, but from this out I will not call you Teigue the Fool.

FOOL

Let me come close to you, where nobody will hear me; but first you must promise not to drive them away. (_Wise Man nods._) Every day men go out dressed in black and spread great black nets over the hills, great black nets.

WISE MAN

A strange place that to fish in.

FOOL

They spread them out on the hills that they may catch the feet of the angels; but every morning just before the dawn, I go out and cut the nets with the shears and the angels fly away.

WISE MAN

(_Speaking with excitement_) Ah, now I know that you are Teigue the Fool. You say that I am wise, and yet I say, there are no angels.

FOOL

I have seen plenty of angels.

WISE MAN

No, no, you have not.

FOOL

They are plenty if you but look about you. They are like the blades of grass.

WISE MAN

They are plenty as the blades of grass--I heard that phrase when I was but a child and was told folly.

FOOL

When one gets quiet. When one is so quiet that there is not a thought in one's head maybe, there is something that wakes up inside one, something happy and quiet, and then all in a minute one can smell summer flowers, and tall people go by, happy and laughing, but they will not let us look at their faces. Oh no, it is not right that we should look at their faces.

WISE MAN

You have fallen asleep upon a hill, yet, even those that used to dream of angels dream now of other things.

FOOL

I saw one but a moment ago--that is because I am lucky. It was coming behind me, but it was not laughing.

WISE MAN

There's nothing but what men can see when they are awake. Nothing, nothing.

FOOL

I knew you would drive them away.

WISE MAN

Pardon me, Fool, I had forgotten who I spoke to. Well, there are your four pennies--Fool you are called, And all day long they cry, 'Come hither, Fool.'

[_The Fool goes close to him._

Or else it's, 'Fool, be gone.'

[_The Fool goes further off._

Or, 'Fool, stand there.'

[_The Fool straightens himself up._

Or, 'Fool, go sit in the corner.'

[_The Fool sits in the corner._

And all the while What were they all but fools before I came? What are they now, but mirrors that seem men, Because of my image? Fool, hold up your head.

[_Fool does so._

What foolish stories they have told of the ghosts That fumbled with the clothes upon the bed, Or creaked and shuffled in the corridor, Or else, if they were pious bred, Of angels from the skies, That coming through the door, Or, it may be, standing there, Would solidly out stare The steadiest eyes with their unnatural eyes, Aye, on a man's own floor.

[_An angel has come in. It should be played by a man if a man can be found with the right voice, and may wear a little golden domino and a halo made of metal. Or the whole face may be a beautiful mask, in which case the last sentence on page 136 should not be spoken._

Yet it is strange, the strangest thing I have known, That I should still be haunted by the notion That there's a crisis of the spirit wherein We get new sight, and that they know some trick To turn our thoughts for their own ends to frenzy. Why do you put your finger to your lip, And creep away?

[_Fool goes out._

(_Wise Man sees Angel._) What are you? Who are you? I think I saw some like you in my dreams, When but a child. That thing about your head,-- That brightness in your hair--that flowery branch; But I have done with dreams, I have done with dreams.

ANGEL

I am the crafty one that you have called.

WISE MAN

How that I called?

ANGEL

I am the messenger.

WISE MAN

What message could you bring to one like me?

ANGEL (_turning the hour-glass_)

That you will die when the last grain of sand Has fallen through this glass.

WISE MAN

I have a wife. Children and pupils that I cannot leave: Why must I die, my time is far away?

ANGEL

You have to die because no soul has passed The heavenly threshold since you have opened school, But grass grows there, and rust upon the hinge; And they are lonely that must keep the watch.

WISE MAN

And whither shall I go when I am dead?

ANGEL

You have denied there is a purgatory, Therefore that gate is closed; you have denied There is a heaven, and so that gate is closed.

WISE MAN

Where then? For I have said there is no hell.

ANGEL

Hell is the place of those who have denied; They find there what they planted and what dug, A Lake of Spaces, and a Wood of Nothing, And wander there and drift, and never cease Wailing for substance.

WISE MAN

Pardon me, blessed Angel, I have denied and taught the like to others. But how could I believe before my sight Had come to me?

ANGEL

It is too late for pardon.

WISE MAN

Had I but met your gaze as now I met it-- But how can you that live but where we go In the uncertainty of dizzy dreams Know why we doubt? Parting, sickness and death, The rotting of the grass, tempest and drouth, These are the messengers that came to me. Why are you silent? You carry in your hands God's pardon, and you will not give it me. Why are you silent? Were I not afraid, I'd kiss your hands--no, no, the hem of your dress.

ANGEL

Only when all the world has testified, May soul confound it, crying out in joy, And laughing on its lonely precipice. What's dearth and death and sickness to the soul That knows no virtue but itself? Nor could it, So trembling with delight and mother-naked, Live unabashed if the arguing world stood by.

WISE MAN

It is as hard for you to understand Why we have doubted, as it is for us To banish doubt--what folly have I said? There can be nothing that you do not know: Give me a year--a month--a week--a day, I would undo what I have done--an hour-- Give me until the sand has run in the glass.

ANGEL

Though you may not undo what you have done, I have this power--if you but find one soul, Before the sands have fallen, that still believes, One fish to lie and spawn among the stones Till the great fisher's net is full again, You may, the purgatorial fire being passed, Spring to your peace.

[_Pupils sing in the distance._

'Who stole your wits away And where are they gone?'

WISE MAN

My pupils come, Before you have begun to climb the sky I shall have found that soul. They say they doubt, But what their mothers dinned into their ears Cannot have been so lightly rooted up; Besides, I can disprove what I once proved-- And yet give me some thought, some argument, More mighty than my own.

ANGEL

Farewell--farewell, For I am weary of the weight of time.

[_Angel goes out. Wise Man makes a step to follow and pauses. Some of his pupils come in at the other side of the stage._

FIRST PUPIL

Master, master, you must choose the subject.

[_Enter other pupils with Fool, about whom they dance; all the pupils may have little cushions on which presently they seat themselves._

SECOND PUPIL

Here is a subject--where have the Fool's wits gone? (_singing_) 'Who dragged your wits away Where no one knows? Or have they run off On their own pair of shoes?'

FOOL

Give me a penny.

FIRST PUPIL

The Master will find your wits,

SECOND PUPIL

And when they are found, you must not beg for pennies.

THIRD PUPIL

They are hidden somewhere in the badger's hole, But you must carry an old candle end If you would find them.

FOURTH PUPIL

They are up above the clouds.

FOOL

Give me a penny, give me a penny.

FIRST PUPIL (_singing_)

'I'll find your wits again, Come, for I saw them roll, To where old badger mumbles In the black hole.'

SECOND PUPIL (_singing_)

'No, but an angel stole them The night that you were born, And now they are but a rag, On the moon's horn.'

WISE MAN

Be silent.

FIRST PUPIL

Can you not see that he is troubled?

[_All the pupils are seated._

WISE MAN