FRONT SCENE.—A wood with perhaps distant view of turreted house at one side, but all in flat colour, without light and shade and against a diafiered or gold background.
COUNTESS CATHLEEN comes in leaning Upon ALEEL's arm. OONA follows them.
CATHLEEN.
(Stopping)Surely this leafy corner, where one smells The wild bee's honey, has a story too?
OONA. There is the house at last.
ALEEL.
A man, they say, Loved Maeve the Queen of all the invisible host, And died of his love nine centuries ago. And now, when the moon's riding at the full, She leaves her dancers lonely and lies there Upon that level place, and for three days Stretches and sighs and wets her long pale cheeks.
CATHLEEN.
So she loves truly.
ALEEL.
No, but wets her cheeks, Lady, because she has forgot his name.
CATHLEEN.
She'd sleep that trouble away—though it must be A heavy trouble to forget his name— If she had better sense.
OONA. Your own house, lady.
ALEEL.
She sleeps high up on wintry Knock-na-rea In an old cairn of stones; while her poor women Must lie and jog in the wave if they would sleep Being water born—yet if she cry their names They run up on the land and dance in the moon Till they are giddy and would love as men do, And be as patient and as pitiful. But there is nothing that will stop in their heads, They've such poor memories, though they weep for it. Oh, yes, they weep; that's when the moon is full.
CATHLEEN.
is it because they have short memories They live so long?
COUNTESS CATHLEEN comes in leaning Upon ALEEL's arm. OONA follows them.
CATHLEEN.
(Stopping)Surely this leafy corner, where one smells The wild bee's honey, has a story too?
OONA. There is the house at last.
ALEEL.
A man, they say, Loved Maeve the Queen of all the invisible host, And died of his love nine centuries ago. And now, when the moon's riding at the full, She leaves her dancers lonely and lies there Upon that level place, and for three days Stretches and sighs and wets her long pale cheeks.
CATHLEEN.
So she loves truly.
ALEEL.
No, but wets her cheeks, Lady, because she has forgot his name.
CATHLEEN.
She'd sleep that trouble away—though it must be A heavy trouble to forget his name— If she had better sense.
OONA. Your own house, lady.
ALEEL.
She sleeps high up on wintry Knock-na-rea In an old cairn of stones; while her poor women Must lie and jog in the wave if they would sleep Being water born—yet if she cry their names They run up on the land and dance in the moon Till they are giddy and would love as men do, And be as patient and as pitiful. But there is nothing that will stop in their heads, They've such poor memories, though they weep for it. Oh, yes, they weep; that's when the moon is full.
CATHLEEN.
is it because they have short memories They live so long?
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