LITTLE BLUE BOOK NO. 335
Edited by E. Haldeman-Julius
The Land of Heart's Desire
W.B. Yeats
HALDEMAN-JULIUS COMPANY
GIRARD, KANSAS
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE
PERSONS
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
SHAWN BRUIN.
FATHER HART.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
MAIRE BRUIN.
A FAERY CHILD.
The scene is laid in the Barony of Kilmacowen in
the county of Sligo, and the time is the
end of Eighteenth Century. The
characters are supposed to
speak in Gaelic.
THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE
The kitchen of MAURTEEN BRAIN'S house. An open grate with a turf fire is at the left side of the room, with a table in front of it. There is a door leading to the open air at the back, and another door a little to its left, leading into an inner room. There is a window, a settle, and a large dresser on the right side of the room, and a great bowl of primroses on the sill of the window. MAURTEEN BRUIN, FATHER HART; and BRIDGET BRUIN are sitting at the table. SHAWN BRUIN is setting the table for supper. MAIRE BRUIN sits on the settle reading a yellow manuscript.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
She took that old book down out of the thatch
And has been doubled over it all day.
We would be deafened by her groans and moans
Had she to work as some do, Father Hart,
Get up at dawn like me, and mend and scour;
Or ride abroad in the boisterous night like you,
The pyx and blessed bread under your arm.
SHAWN BRUIN.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
And is too deep just now in the old book;
But do not blame her greatly; she will grow
As quiet as a puff-ball in a tree
When but the moons of marriage dawn and die
For half a score of times.
FATHER HART
As be the hearts of birds, till children come.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
Or even lay the knives and spread the cloth.
FATHER HART.
What may it be?
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
It has been in the thatch for fifty years.
My father told me my grandfather wrote it,
Killed a red heifer and bound it with the hide.
But draw your chair this way—supper is spread;
And little good he got out of the book,
Because it filled his house with roaming bards,
And roaming ballad-makers and the like,
And wasted all his goods.—Here is the wine;
The griddle bread's beside you, Father Hart.
Colleen, what have you got there in the book
That you must leave the bread to cool? Had I,
Or had my father, read or written books
There were no stockings full of silver and gold
To come, when I am dead, to Shawn and you.
FATHER HART.
What are you reading?
MAIRE BRUIN.
A daughter of a King of Ireland, heard
A voice singing on a May eve like this,
And followed, half awake and half asleep,
Until she came into the land of faery,
Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,
Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,
Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue;
And she is still there, busied with a dance.
Deep in the dewy shadow of a wood,
Or where stars walk upon a mountain top.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
My grandfather would mutter just such things,
And he was no judge of a dog or horse,
And any idle boy could blarney him.
Just speak your mind.
FATHER HART.
God spreads the heavens above us like great wings,
And gives a little round of deeds and days,
And then come the wrecked angels and set snares,
And bait them with light hopes and heavy dreams,
Until the heart is puffed with pride and goes,
Half shuddering and half joyous, from God's peace;
And it was some wrecked angel, blind tears,
Who flattered Edene's heart with merry words.
My colleen, I have seen some other girls
Restless and ill at ease, but years went by
And they grew like their neighbours and were glad
In minding children, working at the churn,
And gossiping of weddings and of wakes;
For life moves out of a red flare of dreams
Into a common light of common hours,
Until old age bring the red flare again.
SHAWN BRUIN.
For she is dull while I am in the fields,
And mother's tongue were harder still to bear,
But for her fancies: this is May Eve too,
When the good people post about the world,
And surely one may think of them to-night.
Maire, have you the primroses to fling
Before the door to make a golden path
For them to bring good luck into the house.
Remember, they may steal new-married brides
Upon May Eve.
MAIRE BRUIN (going over to the window and taking the flowers from the bowl.)
[She goes to the door and strews the primroses outside.
FATHER HART.
Great power to the good people on May Eve.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Change them to golden money, or little flames
To burn up those who do them any wrong.
MAIRE BRUIN.
Than the wind cried and hurried them away.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
MAIRE BRUIN.
Will not be lucky to the house this year,
But I am glad that I was courteous to them,
For are not they, likewise, children of God?
FATHER HART.
And they have power until the end of Time,
When God shall fight with them a great pitched battle
And hack them into pieces.
MAIRE BRUIN.
Father, perhaps, and open his great door,
FATHER HART.
They would fall, slain by everlasting peace;
And when such angels knock upon our doors
Who goes with them must drive through the same storm.
[A knock at the door. MAIRE BRUIN opens it and then goes to the dresser and fills a porringer with milk and hands it through the door and takes it back empty and closes the door.
MAIRE BRUIN.
Who came to beg a porringer of milk.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
Upon May Eve—Woe on the house that gives
For they have power upon it for a year.
I knew you would bring evil on the house
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
MAIRE BRUIN.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
She must be one of them.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
FATHER HART.
While it hangs there.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
And cut away your dreams of discontent,
For I would have you light up my last days
Like a bright torch of pine, and when I die
I will make you the wealthiest hereabout;
For hid away where nobody can find
I have a stocking full of silver and gold.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
And I must pinch and pare that my son's wife
May have all kinds of ribbons for her head.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
The butter's by your elbow, Father Hart.
My colleen, have not Fate and Time and Change
Done well for me and for old Bridget there?
We have a hundred acres of good land,
And sit beside each other at the fire,
The wise priest of our parish to our right,
And you and our dear son to left of us.
To sit beside the board and drink good wine
And watch the turf smoke coiling from the fire
And feel content and wisdom in your heart,
This is the best of life; when we are young
We long to tread a way none trod before,
But find the excellent old way through love
And through the care of children to the hour
For bidding Fate and Time and Change good-bye.
[A knock at the door. MAIRE BRUIN opens it and then takes a sod of turf out of the hearth in the tongs and passes it through the door and closes the door and remains standing by it.
MAIRE BRUIN.
Who asked a burning sod to light his pipe.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
For all you know, evil upon the house.
Before you married you were idle and fine,
And went about with ribbons on your head;
And now you are a good-for-nothing wife.
SHAWN BRUIN.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
MAIRE BRUIN.
Where I must hear all day a bitter tongue,
Into the power of faeries!
BRIDGET BRUIN.
How calling the good people by that name
Or talking of them over much at all
May bring all kinds of evil on the house.
MAIRE BRUIN.
Let me have all the freedom I have lost—
Work when I will and idle when I will!
Faeries, came take me out of this dull world,
For I would ride with you upon the wind,
Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,
And dance upon the mountains like a flame!
FATHER HART.
MAIRE BRUIN.
A tongue that is too crafty and too wise,
A tongue that is too godly and too grave,
A tongue that is more bitter than the tide,
And a kind tongue too full of drowsy love,
Of drowsy love and my captivity.
[SHAWN BRUIN comes over to her and leads her to the settle.
SHAWN BRUIN.
Thinking that all things trouble your bright head—
How beautiful it is—such broad pale brows
Under a cloudy blossoming of hair!
Sit down beside me here—these are too old,
And have forgotten they were ever young.
MAIRE BRUIN.
And I the red nasturtium climbing up.
[She takes SHAWN'S hand but looks shyly at the priest and lets it go.
FATHER HART.
God binds us to Himself and to the hearth
And shuts us from the waste beyond His peace,
From maddening freedom and bewildering light.
SHAWN BRUIN.
With every quiet hearth and barren waste,
The maddening freedom of its woods and tides,
And the bewildering lights upon its hills.
MAIRE BRUIN.
To see you smile watching it crumble away.
SHAWN BRUIN.
With no one bitter, grave, or over wise,
And nothing marred or old to do you wrong.
And crowd the enraptured quiet of the sky
With candles burning to your lonely face.
MAIRE BRUIN.
SHAWN BRUIN.
Or the light wind blowing out of the dawn,
Could fill your heart with dreams none other knew,
But now the indissoluble sacrament
Has mixed your heart that was most proud and cold
With my warm heart for ever; and sun and moor,
Must fade and heaven be rolled up like a scroll;
But your white spirit still walk by my spirit.
For not a power in earth and heaven and hell
Can break this bond binding heart unto heart.
[A VOICE sings in the distance.
MAIRE BRUIN.
Because I have said wicked things to-night.
A VOICE (close to the door).
The wind blows over the lonely of heart
And the lonely of heart is withered away,
While the faeries dance in a place apart,
Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring,
Tossing their milk-white arms in the air;
For they hear the wind laugh, and murmur, and sing
Of a land where even the old are fair,
And even the wise are merry of tongue;
But I heard a reed of Coolaney say,
'When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung,
The lonely of heart must wither away!'
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Be happy too. I hear a child outside,
And will go bring her in out of the cold.
[He opens the door. A CHILD dressed in a green jacket with a red cap comes into the house.
THE CHILD.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Who'd think to face such cold on a May Eve.
THE CHILD.
There is one here who must away, away,
To where the woods, the stars, and the white streams
Are holding a continual festival.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Come to the fire.
THE CHILD.
For I have run from where the winds are born,
And long-to rest my feet a little while.
[She sits upon his knee.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
A long long way, for I have never seen
Your pretty face, and must be tired and hungry;
Here is some bread and wine.
THE CHILD.
Old mother, have you nothing nice for me?
BRIDGET BRUIN.
[She goes into the next room.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
The mother was quite cross before you came.
[BRIDGET returns with the honey, and goes to the dresser and fills a porringer with milk.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
At her white hands and at her pretty dress.
I've brought you some new milk, but wait awhile
And I will put it by the fire to warm,
For things well fitted for poor folk like us
Would never please a high-born child like you.
THE CHILD.
Brightens above while you blow up the fire;
And evening finds you spreading the white cloth.
The young may lie in bed and dream and hope,
But you work on because your heart is old.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
THE CHILD.
And all the years have gathered in your heart
To whisper of the wonders that are gone.
The young must sigh through many a dream and hope,
But you are wise because your heart is old.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Loving old age and wisdom.
[BRIDGET gives her more bread and honey.
THE CHILD.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
What a small sip!
THE CHILD.
For I would like to dance now I have dined.
The reeds are dancing by Coolaney lake,
And I would like to dance until the reeds
And the loud wind, the white wave on the shore,
And all the stars have danced themselves to sleep.
[BRIDGET having put on her shoes, she gets off the old man's knees and is about to dance, but suddenly sees the crucifix and shrieks and covers her eyes.
FATHER HART.
That is Our Blessed Lord!
THE CHILD.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
THE CHILD.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
THE CHILD
Hide it away.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
FATHER HART.
[The CHILD puts her arm round his neck lovingly and kisses him.
THE CHILD.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
FATHER HART.
I will go take it down.
THE CHILD.
And cover it out of sight and out of mind.
FATHER HART (takes it down and carries it towards the inner room).
I will instruct you in our blessed faith:
Being a clever child you will soon learn.
(To the others.)
Our Maker let no thought of Calvary
Trouble the morning stars in their first song.
[Puts the crucifix in the inner room.
THE CHILD.
The wind is blowing on the waving reeds,
The wind is blowing on the heart of man.
[She dances, swaying about like the reeds.
MAIRE (to SHAWN BRUIN).
Other small steps beating upon the floor,
And a faint music blowing in the wind—
Invisible pipes giving her feet the time.
SHAWN BRUIN.
MAIRE BRUIN.
Because the unholy powers are abroad.
MAURTEEN BRUIN (to the CHILD).
Not to talk wickedly of holy things
I'll give you something.
THE CHILD.
[MAURTEEN BRUIN goes into the next room.
FATHER HART.
[MAURTEEN BRUIN returns and lays a piece of money on the table. The CHILD makes a gesture of refusal.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
THE CHILD.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
THE CHILD.
FATHER HART.
THE CHILD.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
THE CHILD (to MAIRE).
MAIRE BRUIN.
THE CHILD.
Yet I could make you ride upon the winds,
Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,
And dance upon the mountains like a flame!
MAIRE BRUIN.
Some dreadful fate has fallen: before she came
The wind cried out and took the primroses.
And I gave milk and fire, and when she came
She made you hide the blessed crucifix;
She wears, too, the green jacket and red cap
Of the unholy creatures of the Raths.
FATHER HART.
She knows no better.
(To the CHILD) Child, how old are you?
THE CHILD.
So I am young; but measure by your years
And I am older than the eagle cock
Who blinks and blinks on Ballydawley Hill,
And he's the oldest thing under the moon.
At times I merely care to dance and dance—
At times grow wiser than the eagle cock.
FATHER HART.
THE CHILD.
I sent my messengers for milk and fire,
And then I heard one call to me and came.
[They all except MAIRE BRUIN gather about the priest for protection. MAIRE BRUIN stays on the settle as if in a trance of terror. The CHILD takes primroses from the great bowl and begins to strew them between herself and the priest and about MAIRE BRUIN. During the following dialogue SHAWN BRUIN goes more than once to the brink of the primroses, but shrinks back to the others timidly.
FATHER HART.
[They cling to him and hold him back.
THE CHILD (while she strews the primroses.)
Can cross these little cressets of the wood.
FATHER HART.
And all the nine angelic hierarchies,
The Holy Martyrs and the Innocents,
The adoring Magi in their coats of mail,
And He who died and rose on the third day,
And Mary with her seven times wounded heart.
[The CHILD ceases strewing the primroses, and kneels upon the settle beside MAIRE and puts her arms about her neck.
THE CHILD.
And gaze upon a merrier multitude:
White-armed Nuala and Ardroe the Wise,
Feacra of the hurtling foam, and him
Who is the ruler of the western host,
Finvarra, and their Land of Heart's Desire,
Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood,
But joy is wisdom, Time an endless song.
I kiss you and the world begins to fade.
FATHER HART.
THE CHILD.
For, if you hear him, you grow like the rest:
Bear children, cook, be mindful of the churn,
And wrangle over butter, fowl, and eggs,
And sit at last there, old and bitter of tongue,
Watching the white stars war upon your hopes.
FATHER HART.
THE CHILD.
Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,
Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,
Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue,
And where kind tongues bring no captivity,
For we are only true to the far lights
We follow singing, over valley and hill.
FATHER HART.
I bid you, Maire Bruin, come to me.
THE CHILD.
[She leaves the settle, and stooping takes up a mass of primroses and kisses them.
For he took down and hid the crucifix.
And my invisible brethren fill the house;
I hear their footsteps going up and down.
O, they shall soon rule all the hearts of men
And own all lands; last night they merrily danced
About his chapel belfrey! (To MAIRE.) Come away,
I hear my brethren bidding us away!
FATHER HART.
[They hang about him in terror and prevent him from moving.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
SHAWN BRUIN.
THE CHILD.
MAIRE BRUIN.
FATHER HART.
THE CHILD (standing by the door).
And clinging mortal hope must fall from you;
For we who ride the winds, run on the waves,
And dance upon the mountains, are more light
Than dewdrops on the banners of the dawn.
MAIRE BRUIN.
[SHAWN BRUIN goes over to her.
SHAWN BRUIN.
What will my life be if you go with her?
Remember when I met you by the well
And took your hand in mine and spoke of love.
MAIRE BRUIN.
THE CHILD.
MAIRE BRUIN.
I think that I would stay if I could stay.
[Sinks into his arms.
THE CHILD (from the door).
MAIRE BRUIN.
THE CHILD.
MAIRE BRUIN.
SHAWN BRUIN.
MAIRE BRUIN.
THE CHILD.
Come, little bird with crest of gold!
MAIRE BRUIN (very softly).
THE CHILD.
SHAWN BRUIN.
FATHER HART.
Almost out of the very hand of God;
And day by day their power is more and more,
And men and women leave old paths, for pride
Comes knocking with thin knuckles on the heart.
A VOICE sings outside—
The wind blows over the lonely of heart,
And the lonely of heart is withered away,
While the faeries dance in a place apart,
Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring,
Tossing their milk-white arms in the air;
For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing
Of a land where even the old are fair,
And even the wise are merry of tongue;
But I heard a reed of Coolaney say,
'When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung,
The lonely of heart must wither away.'
[The song is taken up by many voices, who sing loudly, as if in triumph. Some of the voices seem to come from within the house.