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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land Of Heart's Desire (Little Blue
Book#335), by W.B. Yeats
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Title: The Land Of Heart's Desire (Little Blue Book#335)
Author: W.B. Yeats
Release Date: February 23, 2005 [EBook #15153]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE ***
Produced by Ted Garvin, Melissa Er-Raqabi and the Online Distributed
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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 PERSONSMAURTEEN 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 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.
Because I bade her go and feed the calves,
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.
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.
You are too cross.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
The young side with the young.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
She quarrels with my wife a bit at times,
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.
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
Their hearts are wild
As be the hearts of birds, till children come.
As be the hearts of birds, till children come.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
She would not mind the griddle, milk the cow,
Or even lay the knives and spread the cloth.
Or even lay the knives and spread the cloth.
FATHER HART.
I never saw her read a book before:
What may it be?
What may it be?
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
I do not rightly know:
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.
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.
You should not fill your head with foolish dreams.
What are you reading?
What are you reading?
MAIRE BRUIN.
How a Princess Edene,
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.
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.
Persuade the colleen to put by the book:
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.
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.
Put it away, my colleen.
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.
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.
Yet do not blame her greatly, Father Hart,
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.
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.)
Here are the primroses.
[She goes to the door and strews the primroses outside.
FATHER HART.
You do well, daughter, because God permits
Great power to the good people on May Eve.
Great power to the good people on May Eve.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
They can work all their will with primroses—
Change them to golden money, or little flames
To burn up those who do them any wrong.
Change them to golden money, or little flames
To burn up those who do them any wrong.
MAIRE BRUIN.
I had no sooner flung them by the door
Than the wind cried and hurried them away.
Than the wind cried and hurried them away.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
May God have mercy on us!
MAIRE BRUIN.
The good people
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?
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.
No, child; they are the children of the fiend,
And they have power until the end of Time,
When God shall fight with them a great pitched battle
And hack them into pieces.
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.
He will smile,
Father, perhaps, and open his great door,
Father, perhaps, and open his great door,
FATHER HART.
Did but the lawless angels see that door
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.
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.
A little queer old woman cloaked in green
Who came to beg a porringer of milk.
Who came to beg a porringer of milk.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
The good people go asking milk and fire
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
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.
Who was she?
MAIRE BRUIN.
Both the tongue and face were strange.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Some strangers came last week to Clover Hill;
She must be one of them.
She must be one of them.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
I am afraid.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
The priest will keep all harm out of the house.
FATHER HART.
The Cross will keep all harm out of the house
While it hangs there.
While it hangs there.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Come, sit beside me, colleen,
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.
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.
You are the fool of every pretty face,
And I must pinch and pare that my son's wife
May have all kinds of ribbons for her head.
And I must pinch and pare that my son's wife
May have all kinds of ribbons for her head.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Do not be cross; she is a right good girl!
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.
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.
A little queer old man in a green coat,
Who asked a burning sod to light his pipe.
Who asked a burning sod to light his pipe.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
You have now given milk and fire and brought
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.
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.
Be quiet, mother!
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
You are much too cross!
MAIRE BRUIN.
What do I care if I have given this house,
Where I must hear all day a bitter tongue,
Into the power of faeries!
Where I must hear all day a bitter tongue,
Into the power of faeries!
BRIDGET BRUIN.
You know, well
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.
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.
Come, faeries, take me out of this dull house!
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!
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.
You cannot know the meaning of your words!
MAIRE BRUIN.
Father, I am right weary of four tongues:
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.
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.
Do not blame me: I often lie awake
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.
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.
O, you are the great door-post of this house,
And I the red nasturtium climbing up.
And I the red nasturtium climbing up.
[She takes SHAWN'S hand but looks shyly at the priest and lets it go.
FATHER HART.
Good daughter, take his hand—by love alone
God binds us to Himself and to the hearth
God binds us to Himself and to the hearth
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