Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE HOUSE OF USNA; A DRAMA, by WILLIAM SHARP


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE HOUSE OF USNA; A DRAMA, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Who is it who is near me
Last Line: Seers and the will of the g
Alternate Author Name(s): Macleod, Fiona
Subject(s): Conchobhar Macnessa, King Of Ulster; Ireland; Irish


DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

CONCOBAR MACNESSA. King of Ulster and High-King of Ireland.
DUACH. A Druid.
COEL. An Old Blind Harper.
CRAVETHEEN. A Harper of the Kingship of Cònairey Mòr.
MAINÉ. A Boy.
and
ULTONIAN WARRIORS.
UNSEEN: Mourners passing through the forest with the charred bodies of
Cormac
Conlingas and Eilidh the Fair.
Chorus of Harpers.

SCENE I

Open glade in a forest of pines and oaks, with the silent fires of sunset on
the boles. Confused cries are heard, but as though a long way off. A
dishevelled
savage figure, clad in deerskin and hide-bound leggings, slips
forward furtively
from tree to tree. His long dark locks fall about his misshapen shoulders: his
left arm is in a sling: in his right hand he carries a spear. He stands at
last
listening intently.
Starting abruptly he lifts his spear, but slowly lowers it as an old man,
blind, clad in a white robe, with flat gold cirque about his waist and an oak-
fillet round his head, comes forward leaning on a staff.

COEL
Who is it who is near me? I hear the quick breath of one who . . . of one
who hunts . . . or is hunted.

CRAVETHEEN
Druid, I am a stranger. Where am I? Tell me your name?

COEL
I am Coel the Druid. . . . Coel the old blind harper.

CRAVETHEEN
I, too, am a harper, though I am no druid. I am Cravetheen the Harper. I
am
warrior and chief harper to the great king Cònairey Mòr. I crave
sanctuary, Coel the Harper! I crave sanctuary . . . quick! quick!

COEL
From whom?
[The confused cries are louder and grow louder, then cease.

CRAVETHEEN
[Shaking his spear
From them.

COEL
You are safe here. Tell me this, you who are called Cravetheen: where is
Cormac Conlingas, the son of the High-King Concobar? Does he hasten north to
the
side of his father whom he deserted, because Concobar the king slew the sons of

Usna, and because Deirdrê died of that great sorrow, Deirdrê, the
wife
of Naysha, the pride of the house of Usna?

CRAVETHEEN
[With savage mocking
Ay, a great king truly, Concobar, the son of Nessa! From childhood he
kept
the beautiful Deirdrê to be his queen, but Naysha swooped like a hawk and
carried her to the north, because each loved each and laughed at the king. And
then did the great Concobar track him through Eiré to Alba? No! Did he
force the sword upon him, Deirdrê's beloved? No! For three years he lay
like a wolf on a hillside staring at a far-off fold. . . . and then with
smooth
words he won Naysha and his two hero-brothers, and the beautiful Deirdrê,
and gave kingly warrant to them. . . . and then, ha! then was the noise of
swords, then were red streams of blood, where the House of Usna fought the
fight
of three heroes against a multitude . . . and their shameful, glorious
death . .
. and then Deirdrê, wonder of the world, did Concobar win her at
the last?
No! No! She fell dead by the side of him whom she loved, by the body
of Naysha,
the son of Usna! A true queen, Deirdrê the Beautiful!

COEL
[Raising his staff
Who are you? Who are you? No sanctuary here for the foe of Concoba
r
the king!

CRAVETHEEN
[With a loud, wailing, chanting voice
I am the voice of the House of Usna. I am the voice in the wind crying
for
ever and ever "Kings shall lie in the dust: great princes shall be brought to
shame: the champions of the mighty shall be as swordsmen waving reeds, as
spearmen spearing the grass, as men pursuing and wooing shadows!" (A
moment's
pause.) Ay, by the sun and wind, Coel the Blind, I am the broken
spear to slay
them that foully slew the sons of Usna . . . the spear to goad to madness
Concobar the king!

COEL
[Angrily
Tell me, mad fool, do you fly from the wrath of Cormac Conlingas, the son
of Concobar?

CRAVETHEEN
[Laughing mockingly
Cormac, the son of Concobar! Cormac Conlingas, Cormac of the Yellow
Locks!
No, no, old man, I do not fly before the wrath of Cormac the Beautiful! Nor
shall any man again fly before him, before Cormac the Beautiful, Cormac the
Prince, Cormac the son of Concobar!

COEL
[Angrily
What! is the king's son dead . . . is he slain?

CRAVETHEEN
[Coming close, and speaking low, in a changed voice
Old man, there was a woman of my people as beautiful as Deirdrê. She
loved an Ultonian, that had for name Cormac. . . . Cormac Conlingas.
Cònairey Mòr was fierce with anger at that, and sent him away, but
against her will, and gave her to me, who loved her, though she hated me.
So
I took her to my Dûn. But this Cormac came there and found her . . . and I

. . . oh, I, too, came back suddenly, and learned that he was there!
[A long wailing chant is heard

COEL
Hush! What is that?

CRAVETHEEN
[Still leaning close, and speaking low
That? . . . That is the wailing of those who carry hither to Concobar the
dead bodies of Cormac his son and Eilidh the Fair. [Suddenly springing back,
and crying loudly.] For I set fire to the great Dûn, O, Coel the Blind,
and I laughed when the red flames swept up to where the sleepers lay—and
they died, Cormac and Eilidh, to the glad deathsong of me, Cravetheen the
Harper! Two charred logs these mourners carry now—Ah-h-h!

[As he cries a spear whirls across the stage from left to right, then
another, then a third, which strikes the ground at Cravetheen's feet. Wild
cries
are heard—a rush—and six or eight Ultonian warriors leap forward,
crying as they seize him

WARRIORS
Death to the Harper!—death to Cravetheen the Harper, who has
slain the
king's son!

SCENE II

In the background, vague in the moonlight, the walls of a great Dûn or
ancient fortress, half obscured by trees. To the right, in deep
shadow, an oak.
Concobar, wrapt in a white robe, with a fillet of gold round
his head, leans in
silence against the oak. In front, in the moonlight, the boy Mainé, clad i
n
a deerskin, lies on the ground looking towards the king, and playing softly
upon
a reed with seven holes in it.

CONCOBAR
Hush.
[Mainé ceases playing

CONCOBAR
[Coming slowly forward
Where is Deirdrê?

MAINÉ
[Unstirring, plays softly

CONCOBAR
[Slowly advancing, till he stands above Mainé, and looks down at
him, in silence
Where is Deirdrê?

MAINÉ
Taking the reed from his mouth, in a low, prolonged, chanting voice
Deirdrê is dead! Deirdrê the Beautiful is dead, is dead!

CONCOBAR
It is the voice of my dreams.

MAINÉ
Deirdrê is dead! Deirdrê the Beautiful is dead, is dead!

CONCOBAR
[Muttering
Duach the Wise. . . . Where is Duach the Wise? These were his words: "In
the whisper of the leaf by night, in the first moaning air of the new wind, in
the voice of the wave, that which has been is told, that which is to be is
known." O, heart of my heart. . . . Deirdrê, my love, my desire!

MAINÉ
[Rises and goes silently over to the oak, and leans against it, lost in
shadow

CONCOBAR
Heart of my heart, Deirdrê! Love of my love, desire of all
desire—can no voice rise to those red lips, red as rowans, in that silent
place? There is no sadness like unto the sadness of the king. Dream of dreams,
I
trampled all dreams till the hour of my desire, and in that hour you were
stolen
from me: and in his heart the king was as a swineherd herding swine, a
helot, a
slave. Was it I who put death upon Naysha the Fair? Was it I who put
death upon
the sons of Usna? It was not I, by the Sun and the Moon! It was the beauty of
Deirdrê. O, beauty too great and sore! Deirdrê, love of my love,
sorrow of my sorrow, grief of my grief! I am old, because of my
sorrow. There is
no king so great that he may not perish because of a woman's love. She sleeps:
she sleeps: she is not dead! I will go to the grianân, and will cry
Heart
o' Beauty, awake! It is I, Concobar the King! She will hear, and she
will put
white hands through her hair, like white doves going into the shadow
of a wood:
and I will see her eyes like stars, and her face pale and wonderful
as dawn, and
her lips like twilight water, and she will sigh, and my heart will be as wind
fainting in hot grass, and I will laugh because that I am made king of the worl
d
and as the old gods, but greater than they, greater than they, greater than
they!

MAINÉ
[Chanting slowly from the shadow
Deirdrê is dead! Deirdrê the Beautiful is dead, is dead!

CONCOBAR
[Slowly turning, and looking towards the shadow whence the sound
came
Who spoke?
[Silence

CONCOBAR
Who spoke? (Turning again.) It was the pulse of my heart. They lie
who
say that Deirdrê is dead. The sons of Usna are dead. May the dust of
Naysha
rot among the worms of the earth. It was he who was king, not I! It was
he whom
Deirdrê loved. . . . Deirdrê, who was so fair, the most beautiful of
women; my dream, my love!
[A long wailing cry is heard. Concobar lifts his head, and listens.

CONCOBAR
It is Duach. The Druid has deep wisdom. I will ask him to tell me where
Deirdrê is. There is no woman in the world for me but the daughter of
Felim. Her beauty is more terrible than day to the creatures of the night;
more
mysterious than night to the winged children of the noon.
[The boughs dispart, and a tall, white-haired man, clad in white, with a gold

belt, and with a wreath of oak leaves, enters from the left

DUACH
Hail, O king!

CONCOBAR
I heard the howl of the grey wolf, but now you come alone. Where is the
wolf?

DUACH
There was no wolf. It was an image only of your own mind. It was but your
own sorrow, O king.

CONCOBAR
Tell me, Duach, who lives in yonder great Dûn?

DUACH
[Looking at the king curiously, then slowly
Concobar the king; with the comrades of the king, and his guards; his
harpers and poets; the women of the household.

CONCOBAR
Can you see the grianân, Duach?

DUACH
I see the grianân, Concobar mac Nessa.

CONCOBAR
Nessa . . . yes, I am the son of Nessa. . . . Nessa, who was so fair.
Tell
me, Duach; in her youth was she so beautiful as the harpers and poets say?

DUACH
She was so beautiful that few looked at her untroubled. In her eyes
youths
dreamed; old men looked back. To all men Nessa was a light and a flame.

CONCOBAR
Was she fair, as Deirdrê is fair? Was she beautiful, as Deirdrê
is beautiful?

DUACH
Deirdrê, whom you have slain, is dead.

CONCOBAR
[Calling
Deirdrê, dear love, come! I am here! I wait!

DUACH
From that silence where both are, their names only may come back like
falling dew.

CONCOBAR

There is none so beautiful as Deirdrê.

DUACH
She sleeps by Naysha, son of Usna.

CONCOBAR
[Furiously
You lie, old man. Naysha is dead.

DUACH
She sleeps by Naysha, son of Usna.

CONCOBAR
[Troubled
Tell me! When shall she wake?

DUACH
She shall wake no more.

CONCOBAR
Speak no lies, Druid. I heard her laugh a brief while ago. She came out
into the woods at the rising of the moon.

DUACH
She will wake no more.
[Silence

DUACH
Hearken,Concobar mac Nessa! That was an evil deed, the slaying of the
sons
of Usna. They were the noblest of all the Gaels of Eiré and Alba.

CONCOBAR
[Sullenly
They are dead.

DUACH
They are more to be feared dead than when their young, sweet,
terrible life
was upon them. Their voices cry for vengeance, and all men hear.
Women whisper.

CONCOBAR
What do they whisper?

DUACH
"Most fair and beautiful were the sons of Usna, slain treacherously by
Concobar the High-King."

CONCOBAR
What vengeance is called for by those who cry for an eric?

DUACH
It is no eric they cry, but the broken honour of the king.

CONCOBAR
And what do the young men say?

DUACH
They say: "He has slain the image of our desire."

CONCOBAR
And what is the burthen of the sing the singers sing?

DUACH
"The beauty of the world is now as an old song that is sung."
[Silence

MAINÉ
[From the shadow of the oak, strikes a note, and, in a low voice,
chants slowly
Deirdrê is dead! Deirdrê the Beautiful is dead, is dead!

CONCOBAR
Can dreams have a voice?

DUACH
They alone speak. It is our spoken words that are the idle dreams.

CONCOBAR
Dreams—dreams. I am sick of dreams! It is love I long for—my
lost
love! my lost love!

DUACH
It is a madness, that love.

CONCOBAR
Better that madness than all wisdom.
[Silence

MAINÉ
[Playing a note or two, slowly, chants, from the shadow of the oak
Deirdrê is dead! Deirdrê the Beautiful is dead, is dead!

CONCOBAR
Duach, can dreams speak?

DUACH
The dead, old wisdom, the wind, dreams— these speak. All else are
troubled murmurs, confused cries, echoes of echoes.

CONCOBAR
[Stands with outstretched arms, staring towards the Dûn

DUACH
Death and beauty are in his eyes.

CONCOBAR
[With a sudden, passionate gesture, flinging up his arms
supplicatingly
Deirdrê, my queen, my dream, my desire! Death and beauty were in
your
eyes as a little child, oh, fawn of women, when I lit my dreams at your face
before the House of Usna did me that bitter, bitter wrong! . . . that bitter,
bitter wrong! O, Naysha, more terrible your quiet smile in death than all the
armies of Meave! Deirdrê, Deirdrê, death and beauty are in your
eyes,
my queen, my dream, my desire!
[With a sobbing cry he sinks to his knees, bows his head, and
pulls his
robe about him

MAINÉ
[Slowly advances from the shadow, softly playing on his reed-flute

DUACH
Sing!

MAINÉ
[Sings
Dim face of Beauty haunting all the world,
Fair face of Beauty all too fair to see,
Where the lost stars adown the heavens are hurled,
There, there alone for thee
May white peace be.

For here, where all the dreams of men are whirled
Like sere, torn leaves of autumn to and fro,
There is no place for thee in all the world,
Who drifted as a star,
Beyond, afar.
Beauty, and face of Beauty, Mystery, Wonder,
What are these dreams to foolish babbling men —
Who cry with little noises 'neath the thunder
Of ages ground to sand,
To a little sand?

[Concobar slowly rises. He turns and looks at Mainé

CONCOBAR
Who made that song?

MAINÉ
Cormac the Red, the father of my father, and son of Felim the Harper.

CONCOBAR
Felim! . . . Felim the Harper — it was he who was the father of
Deirdrê. He harps no more. [Turning to Duach.] Do you
remember when we
went to the house of Felim the Harper in the days of my youth? Do you remember
the birthnight of Deirdrê?

DUACH
Ay.

CONCOBAR
What were the last words of Cathba the Wise?

DUACH
That Eiré, the most beautiful of all lands under the sun, should be
the saddest of all lands under the sun. Blood shall run in that land till
Famine
shall make her home there, he said: and tears shall be shed for it in
every age:
and all wisdom and beauty and hope shall grow there: and she shall be a lamp,
and then know the darkness of darkness. But before the end she shall be a
queenly land again, and the nations shall bow before her as the soul
of peoples
born anew. For into all the nations of the world, he said, Eiré shall die,

but shall live again. She shall be the soul of the nations.

CONCOBAR
Too many dreams . . . too many dreams!

DUACH
Cathba saw all that is to be.

CONCOBAR
If Felim the Harper were to come again. . . .

CONCOBAR
And the prophecy of Cathba the Arch-Druid?

DUACH
Ay: that before his eyes he saw a sea of blood, and saw it rise and rise
and rise till it overflowed great straths, and laved the flanks of high hills,
and from the summits of the mountains poured down upon the lands of the Gael
in
a thundering flood, blood-red, to the blood-red sea.

CONCOBAR
[Troubled, and moving slowly to and fro

Did Cathba see the end?

DUACH
He saw the end.

CONCOBAR
It was but the idle wisdom of a dreamer.

DUACH
That idle wisdom is the utterance of the gods. The dreamers and poets and
seers are their voices.

DUACH
He would ask: Where is Emain Macha, the royal city, the beautiful city?
Where are the sons of Usna? Where is Deirdrê, the most beautiful of
women?
Where is the glory of the Red Branch?

CONCOBAR
[Confusedly
The Red Branch! . . . The Red Branch! At least, at least, the Red Branch
stands!

DUACH
What of Fergus? . . . what of Cormac Conlingas? They and a third of the Re
d
Branch are gone from you: Fergus, the first champion of Ulla; Cormac
Conlingas,
the greatest of your sons, the king that is to be!

CONCOBAR
Conaill Carna is with me . . . and Setanta the wonderful youth, that is
called Cuchulain.

DUACH
Yet neither they nor the gods themselves shall in the end prevail.

CONCOBAR
[With sudden passion
Duach, win back to me my son Cormac, and I will give you whatsoever you
will—yea, my kingship. Him only do I love of all men, him only, my son who

is so fair and proud and beautiful. He shall be High-king; he and he only is
the
son of my kinghood.

DUACH
That which is to be, will be.

CONCOBAR
[Looking fixedly at him
Shall not Cormac Conlingas be king after me?

DUACH
Have you forgotten, O king! Cormac mac Concobar is in arms against you. He

and Fergus and a third of the Red Branch are with Queen Meave, whose armies
gather to overwhelm you, to do to Ulla as the Great Queen has already done to
Emain Macha, your proud city.

CONCOBAR
Cormac, my son, my son!

DUACH
These were the words he sent: "For that which you did upon Naysha and the
sons of Usna, and for that shame which you brought upon Fergus mac Roy, and
because of the beauty of Deirdrê which is no more in the world because of
you . . . the Sword and Sorrow, Sorrow and the Sword!"

CONCOBAR
[Angrily and impatiently
I care not! I care not! He shall be king. Listen! Duach; I will send word
to Cormac that I am weary of the kingship. He shall be Tanist, with all power.
He shall be the Ard-Righ himself. He shall save Eiré. The prophecies of
Cathba shall be set at nought. He shall be a great king. All Eiré shall
call him king. All the Gaels shall call him Ard-Righ. His son's sons shall
reign
after him. Ireland shall be made one nation, because of this great
king—Cormac, the son of Concobar, the son of Flachtna, kings and sons of
kings!

DUACH
Beware, O Concobar, of the foam of dreams. It is only the great wave that
will lift Eiré.

CONCOBAR
The great wave? Shall not that be the king?

DUACH
Through no king can Eiré become one nation and great, but only
through
the kinglihood of her sons and daughters. In the end, when all are royal of
soul, Eiré shall be the first of the nations of the world.

CONCOBAR
[Confusedly
In the end? . . . In the end? Of what do you speak? Cormac shall be king,
he and his sons after him. The blood of the gods is in Essa, his wife.

DUACH
[Leaning forward, and staring into the king's face
Essa? . . . Have you not heard? Essa is dead!

CONCOBAR
Essa is not dead. I saw her and Deirdrê and Dectera, my sister, and
my
mother Nessa, walking in the wood at the rising of the moon.

DUACH
[Muttering
Ay, that might well be. It is the hour of the dead.

CONCOBAR
[Sadly
Is she dead, Essa, daughter of Etain the Wonderful?

DUACH
She is not dead, being of the Divine race. But her body lies at Rath
Nessa,
where in the dream of death she can look for ever upon the Hill of Tara.

CONCOBAR
Hopes fall about me as old leaves. [A pause.] Nevertheless, I
will send
to Cormac at the camp of Queen Meave. There shall be no more war. Cormac
Conlingas shall be king.

DUACH
Cormac is not there. He is one of the nine hostages at the Dûn of
Cònairey Mòr, the king of the Middle Province. Meave marches against
him.

CONCOBAR
Fergus was king no more because of Nessa: I am king no more because of
Deirdrê. She is not here, the beautiful Deirdrê. She is here no
more.
I will go into the woods, and upon the hills. I am led by dreams and visions.
Deirdrê, my dream and my desire!

DUACH
[Aside
The prophecy of the sting that was to sting to madness the King of the
Ultonians! The gods see far!

CONCOBAR
[Starting
Who . . . what is that?

DUACH
I see nothing.

CONCOBAR
[Pointing
Look! . . . yonder . . . a white hound—a white hound, that moves
through the wood! How swift and silent. . . see, his head is low . . . he is on

the trail . . . is it Rumac?
[An echo in the woods Rumac! Cormac! Cormac!

CONCOBAR
[Moves backward a step
What! Cormac! . . . Cormac? . . . my son Cormac!

DUACH
[Staring into the dusk of the woods
I seen no hound. . . . Where is the white hound?

CONCOBAR
Yonder . . . under the oaks . . . he goes swiftly to the place where he
was
born.

DUACH
Who?

CONCOBAR
Cormac. Cormac Conlingas, my son. Is this evil fallen upon me because of
the death of Deirdrê? Is this evil come upon me out of the House of Usna?

DUACH
The House of Usna is in the dust.

CONCOBAR
[Distraught, loudly chants The grey wind weeps, the
grey
wind weeps, the grey wind weeps; Dust on her breasts, dust in her eyes,
the grey
wind weeps!

DUACH
The hound is gone.

CONCOBAR
[Putting his finger on his lips
Hush! do you hear the little children of the wind . . . rustling and
laughing . . . the little children of the wind? Or are they the little white
feet of those who come at dusk? Or are they the waves of the Moyle . .
. tears,
tears, sighs, oh tears, tears, tears, of Deirdrê upon the dark waters of
the Moyle!

DUACH
Deirdrê is in that far place where your hound of old is . . . where
Rumac bays against a moon that does not set or wane.

CONCOBAR
[Calling
Rumac! Rumac!

ECHO
Coomac! Coomac!

CONCOBAR
Cormac, my beautiful son! Cormac! come! come!
[A sound of a harp is heard. Both start

CONCOBAR
Who comes?

DUACH
Someone comes through the wood.

CONCOBAR
[Drawing his sword
It is Naysha, son of Usna. Night after night I hear him come harping
through the woods. Sometimes I see him, standing under an oak. He calls upon
Deirdrê.

DUACH
It is Coel mac Coel, the old blind harper— he who loved Macha the
great queen, and was blinded by her because that he loved overmuch. He alone
wandered free out of Emain Macha when the beautiful city was laid waste. He is
not alone; there are the young bards and minstrels with him. For the last
three
nights they have come in the darkness, and sung before the Royal Dûn the
song which Coel made of Macha and her beautiful city. Hark! They sing now.
[The noise of harps and tympans. From the wood comes the loud chanting voice
of Coel:

O, 'tis a good house, and a palace fair, the Dûn of Macha,
And happy with a great household is Macha there:
Druids she has, and bards, minstrels, harpers, knights;
Hosts of servants she has, and wonders beautiful and rare,
But nought so wonderful and sweet as her face, queenly fair,
O Macha of the Ruddy Hair!

[Choric voices in a loud, swelling chant:
O Macha of the Ruddy Hair!
COEL chants:
The colour of her great Dûn is the shining whiteness of lime,
And within it are floors strewn with green rushes and couches white
Soft wondrous silks and blue gold-claspt mantles and furs
Are there, and jewelled golden cups for revelry by night:
Thy grianân of gold and glass is filled with sunshine-light,
O Macha, queen by day, queen by night!

[Choric Voices:
O Macha, queen by day, queen by night!
Beyond the green portals, and the brown and red thatch of wings
Striped orderly, the wings of innumerous stricken birds,
A wide shining floor reaches from wall to wall, wondrously carven
Out of a sheet of silver, whereon are graven swords
Intricately ablaze: mistress of many hoards
Art thou, Macha of few words!

[Choric Voices:
O Macha of few words!
Fair indeed is thy couch, but fairer still is thy throne,
A chair it is, all of a blaze of wonderful yellow gold:
There thou sittest, and watchest the women going to and fro,
Each in garments fair and with long locks twisted fold in fold:
With the joy that is in thy house men would not grow old,
O Macha, proud, austere, cold.

[Choric Voices:
O Macha, proud, austere, cold.
Of a surety there is much joy to be had of thee and thine,
There in the song-sweet sunlit bowers in that place;
Wounded men might sink in sleep and be well content
So to sleep, and to dream perchance, and know no other grace
Than to wake and look betimes on thy proud queenly face,
O Macha of the Proud Face!

[Choric Voices:
O Macha of the Proud Face!
And if there be any here who wish to know more of this wonder,
Go, you will find all as I have shown, as I have said:
From beneath its portico, thatched with wings of birds blue and yellow,
Reaches a green lawn, where a fount is fed
From crystal and gems: of crystal and gold each bed
In the house of Macha of the Ruddy Head!

[Choric Voices:
In the house of Macha of the Ruddy Head!
In that great house where Macha the queen has her pleasaunce
There is everything in the whole world that a man might desire,
God is my witness that if I say little it is for this,
That I am grown faint with wonder, and can no more admire,
But say this only, that I live and die in the fire
Of thine eyes, O Macha, my desire,
With thine eyes of fire!

[Choric Voices in a loud, swelling chant:
But say this only, that we live and die in the fire
Of thine eyes, O Macha, Dream, Desire,
With thine eyes of fire!

[Choric Voices repeat their refrains, but fainter, and becoming more faint.
Last vanishing sound of the harps and tympans

CONCOBAR
Is Emain Macha as a dream that is no more?

DUACH
Emain Macha, the beautiful city, is as a dream that is no more.
[A moan of wind

CONCOBAR
Wind, wind, nothing but wind!

DUACH
Clouds cover the moon. Let us go, O king. To-night, dreams: the morrow
waits, when dreams will be realities.

CONCOBAR
Dreams, dreams, nothing but dreams!
[Slowly Concobar and Duach pass through the darkening gloom. The Dûn
becomes more and more obscure. From the darkness to the right a single flute
note, where Mainé lies

MAINÉ
[Chanting slowly, unseen
Deirdrê is dead! Deirdrê the Beautiful is dead, is dead!

SCENE III

SCENE THE SAME.—Ultonian Warriors have brought Cravetheen the
Harper—a misshapen savage figure, held by two warriors—before the
king, so that Concobar may decree what manner of death the man is to die,
because of having murdered Cormac by setting fire to the Dûn, where he
and
Eilidh lay, and burning him and his love, and all that were within the
Dûn.

CONCOBAR
I have heard all. Let him go. What is death?

[Cravetheen is released

CRAVETHEEN
Have you no mercy, O king?

CONCOBAR
Harper, you have your life. Go!

CRAVETHEEN
Have you no mercy, O king?

CONCOBAR
What is your desire?

CRAVETHEEN
I have but one desire, Concobar, King of Ulla.

CONCOBAR
Speak.

CRAVETHEEN
It is that I may know death.

CONCOBAR
[Rising, and smiling strangely
Brother, I, too—I, too, have that one desire.

CRAVETHEEN
[Confusedly
You . . . the king. . . .

MAINÉ
[Lying under an oak, makes a clear not on his reed-flute, and chants
slowly, with wailing rise and fall
Deirdrê is dead! Deirdrê the Beautiful is dead, is dead!

CRAVETHEEN
[Muttering
Ah, now I know! Now I know! [Moving slowly towards the king.] That cry

is the cry of the House of Usna! The gods do not sleep, O king. That cry is
the
cry of the House of Usna!

CONCOBAR
[With sudden fury, reaching out his arms as though cursing or
abhorring
the speaker
Take him away! To death! . . . to death! Away with him!

CRAVETHEEN
[Eagerly and triumphantly
I am the voice of the House of Usna, O king!

CONCOBAR
[Furiously
Tie him to the saplings! Let him die the death of the oaks!

WARRIORS
[Shouting
To the Death-tree! To the Death-tree!
[They seize Cravetheen and drag him away into the wood

CONCOBAR
[Staring about him confusedly
Who spoke? [Lower, in a hoarse whisper.]
Who spoke?

DUACH
O king, there is no evil done upon the world that the wind does not bring
back to the feet of him who wrought it.

CONCOBAR
The wind! . . . The wind!

DUACH
O king, the gods abhor most the evil that is wrought unworthily by the
great.

CONCOBAR
Who are the great . . . I have lost love, and my kinglihood, and my son,
and all, all my hopes. Who are the great?

DUACH
O king, you have slain youth, and love, and beauty.

CONCOBAR
[Wailingly
Life. . . . Life. . . . Life for ever slays youth, and love, and beauty.

DUACH
Take not the brute law to be the divine law. O king, are prophecies idle
ways of an idle wind? Long, long ago it was foretold that evil would come upon
you and your house because of your uncontrolled desire, but what avail? Your
ears were deaf.

CONCOBAR
Why do the gods pursue me? I am old, I am old.

DUACH
At the kindling of the light they look into the silent earth, and they
behold the slain bodies of Naysha and Ailnê and Ardan, and a shade stands
at their grave calling night and day—I am the House of Usna!

CONCOBAR
Druid, is there no evil done upon the world, is there no slaying of young
men, is there no falling of heroic names into the dust, save what I have done?

DUACH
Because of your desire you slew your kinglihood.

CONCOBAR
My kinglihood?

DUACH
More terrible than the fate of Usna is the fall of royal honour. More
terrible than the death of Naysha is the shame put upon those who blindly did
your will. More terrible than the death of Deirdrê is the undoing of the
great wonder and mystery of beauty. The gods call. . . . "Concobar,
Concobar,
thy thirst shall be for shadows, and the rose of thy desire shall be
dust within
thy mouth!"

CONCOBAR
[Hopelessly
It was because of love. . . . It was because of love.

DUACH
Yes, O king. . . . love of thine own love.
[Silence

CONCOBAR
Evil can be undone.

DUACH
Where are the sons of Usna?

CONCOBAR
I tell you, Druid, evil can be undone. I repent me of my evil. . . . I
repent me of my evil.

DUACH
Where are the sons of Usna? Where is the word of the king? Where is
Deirdrê, the too great beauty of this evil time? Where is Emain Macha,
the
beautiful city? Where is the glory of the Red Branch? Where is Cormac, Cormac
Conlingas, who was to be king? Where stands Eiré that was to be one
nation?

CONCOBAR
[In a hoarse whisper
Have all these evils come upon me because I was a king and because
I loved?

DUACH
Because you were a king and chose the unkingly way.

CONCOBAR
[Wailingly
Good blooms like a flower that has its day: evil like a weed that
endures,
and grows and grows and grows.

DUACH
But the evil that is done of kings shall cover the whole land.

CONCOBAR
[Starting, and furiously
Enough! Enough, Druid! I have heard enough. I am the king. [Raising his
sword, and looking towards the Warriors, shouts.] Ultonians, awake! I am the
king. I am the Red Branch. On the morrow we march. I shall lead you, with
Conaill Carna and with Cuchulain. The armies of Queen Meave shall be scattered
like dry leaves. Fear not the gods! The gods follow the victorious sword!
Before
the new moon all the gods of the Gael will be on our side! The Red
Branch! The
Red Branch!

WARRIORS
[Clashing swords and spears
The Red Branch! The Red Branch!

CONCOBAR
Up with the Sunburst! Up with the banner of the Sunburst!

WARRIORS
The Sunburst! The Sunburst!

CONCOBAR
[Triumphantly
The gods are with us! (Lower, and turning to Duach, exultantly.) The
gods are with us. Druid, it is the will of man that compels the gods, not the
gods who compel man.

DUACH
[After a momentary pause, and laying his hand on the king's arm
The gods are the will of man. For good and for evil the gods are
the will of man.

CONCOBAR
Stand back, Druid. I am weary of your subtleties. (Shouts.) Warriors,
go! On the morrow I shall lead you—I, and Conaill the Victorious, and
Cuchulain the greatest champion of Eiré!

WARRIORS
[Go shouting, and after they have gone their voices are heard repeating
the acclaim
Concobar! Concobar! Conaill Carna! Cuchulain! Cuchulain!

CONCOBAR
[Looking sombrely at Duach
Druid, go! I would be alone.

DUACH
I go. But truly, yea, truly, O king, you shall be alone from this hour.

CONCOBAR
[Scornfully
Enough. I am the king. I have great dreams. The gods are with me. They
have
forgotten, for they do not long remember the dead!

DUACH
[Meaningly, as he moves slowly away
The gods neither sleep nor do they forget.
[A long pause. Silence

CONCOBAR
[Alone, exultantly
I am the king. I have great dreams.
[A wailing voice from the wood. The king starts, raising his sword.

CONCOBAR
Who is that?. . . what is that?

CRAVETHEEN
[Unseen, on the Death-tree
It is I, Cravetheen, in my hour of death.
[Silence. The king stands listening. Again a long wailing cry.

CRAVETHEEN
The gods do not sleep, O king! . . . Farewell.
[Slowly Concobar lowers his sword. It falls with a crash to the ground.
He stands as though spell-bound.

CONCOBAR
[In an awed whispering voice
It is the cry of the House of Usna!
[Silence. Slowly the king lifts his hand to his face, and bows his
head.
From the wood the boy Mainé breathes three poignant notes on his reed
-
flute, and chants slowly with long rise and fall.
Deirdrê is dead. Deirdrê the Beautiful is dead, is dead!

NOTE
Concobar MacNessa was King of Ulster and Ard-Righ or High-King of Ireland
at the beginning of
the Christian era. By some chroniclers his reign is said to be
synchronous with the mortal
years of Christ.
Concobar had founded the knightly order of "The Red Branch"
—the forerunner, though on a
more epical scale, of the Round Table of the Arthurian
Chivalry—and by his force of will
and the power of his nation (the Ultonians, the people of Uladh, or Ulster
) had become not
only High-King of Ireland, but dreamed to make of its nations one nation,
and that he and his
sons and his son's sons should be its kings. In this he disregarded both
the prophecies of the
seers and the will of the g







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