No More Learning

The butter is 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.

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.

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!

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.

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, come, 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.

[_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.

MAIRE BRUIN.

O, you are the great door-post of this house,
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
And shuts us from the waste beyond His peace,
From maddening freedom and bewildering light.

SHAWN BRUIN.

Would that the world were mine to give it you
With every quiet hearth and barren waste,
The maddening freedom of its woods and tides,
And the bewildering light upon its hills.

MAIRE BRUIN.

Then I would take and break it in my hands
To see you smile watching it crumble away.

SHAWN BRUIN.

Then I would mould a world of fire and dew
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.

Your looks are all the candles that I need.

SHAWN BRUIN.

Once a fly dancing in a beam of the sun,
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 moon
Must fade and heaven be rolled up like a scroll;
But your white spirit still walk by my spirit.

[_A VOICE sings in the distance. _

MAIRE BRUIN.

Did you hear something call? O, guard me close,
Because I have said wicked things to-night;
And seen a pale-faced child with red-gold hair,
And longed to dance upon the winds with her.

A VOICE [_close to the door_].

_The wind blows out of the gates of the day,
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 is withered away! '_

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

I am right happy, and would make all else
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 pale green and
with red-gold hair comes into the house. _

THE CHILD.

I tire of winds and waters and pale lights!

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

You are most welcome. It is cold out there;
Who'd think to face such cold on a May Eve?

THE CHILD.

And when I tire of this warm little house
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.

O listen to her dreamy and strange talk.
Come to the fire.

THE CHILD.

I will sit upon your knee,
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.

How pretty you are!

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

Your hair is wet with dew!

BRIDGET BRUIN.

I will warm your chilly feet.

[_She takes THE CHILD'S feet in her hands. _

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

You must have come
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.

The wine is bitter.
Old mother, have you no sweet food for me?

BRIDGET BRUIN.

I have some honey!

[_She goes into the next room. _

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

You are a dear child;
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.

She is the child of gentle people; look
At her white hands and at her pretty dress.
I have 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.

Old mother, my old mother, the green dawn
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 young are idle.

THE CHILD.

Old father, you are wise,
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.

O, who would think to find so young a child
Loving old age and wisdom?

[_BRIDGET gives her more bread and honey. _

THE CHILD.

No more, mother.

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

What a small bite! The milk is ready now;
What a small sip!

THE CHILD.

Put on my shoes, old mother,
For I would like to dance now I have eaten.
The reeds are dancing by Coolaney lake,
And I would like to dance until the reeds
And the white waves 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. _]

What is that ugly thing on the black cross?

FATHER HART.

You cannot know how naughty your words are!
That is our Blessed Lord!

THE CHILD.

Hide it away!

BRIDGET BRUIN.

I have begun to be afraid, again!

THE CHILD.

Hide it away!

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

That would be wickedness!

BRIDGET BRUIN.

That would be sacrilege!

THE CHILD.

The tortured thing!
Hide it away!

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

Her parents are to blame.

FATHER HART.

That is the image of the Son of God.

[_THE CHILD puts her arm round his neck and kisses him. _

THE CHILD.

Hide it away! Hide it away!

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

No! no!

FATHER HART.

Because you are so young and little a child
I will go take it down.

THE CHILD.

Hide it away,
And cover it out of sight and out of mind.

[_FATHER HART takes it down and carries it towards the
inner room. _

FATHER HART.

Since you have come into this barony,
I will instruct you in our blessed faith:
Being a clever child, you will soon learn.
[_To the others. _] We must be tender with all budding things.
Our Maker let no thought of Calvary
Trouble the morning stars in their first song.

[_Puts the crucifix in the inner room. _

THE CHILD.

Here is level ground for dancing. I will dance.
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_].

Just now when she came near I thought I heard
Other small steps beating upon the floor,
And a faint music blowing in the wind,
Invisible pipes giving her feet the time.

SHAWN BRUIN.

I heard no step but hers.

MAIRE BRUIN.

Look to the bolt!
Because the unholy powers are abroad.

MAURTEEN BRUIN [_to THE CHILD_].

Come over here, and if you promise me
Not to talk wickedly of holy things
I will give you something.

THE CHILD.

Bring it me, old father!

[_MAURTEEN BRUIN goes into the next room. _

FATHER HART.

I will have queen cakes when you come to me!

[_MAURTEEN BRUIN returns and lays a piece of money on
the table. THE CHILD makes a gesture of refusal. _

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

It will buy lots of toys; see how it glitters!

THE CHILD.

Come, tell me, do you love me?

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

I love you!

THE CHILD.

Ah, but you love this fireside!

FATHER HART.

I love you.

THE CHILD.

But you love Him above.

BRIDGET BRUIN.

She is blaspheming.

THE CHILD [_to MAIRE_].

And do you love me?

MAIRE BRUIN.

I--I do not know.

THE CHILD.

You love that great tall fellow over there:
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.

Queen of the Angels and kind Saints, defend us!
Some dreadful fate has fallen: a while ago
The wind cried out and took the primroses,
And she ran by me laughing in the wind,
And I gave milk and fire, and she came in
And made you hide the blessed crucifix.

FATHER HART.

You fear because of her wild, pretty prattle;
She knows no better.
[_To THE CHILD_] Child, how old are you?

THE CHILD.

When winter sleep is abroad my hair grows thin,
My feet unsteady. When the leaves awaken
My mother carries me in her golden arms.
I'll soon put on my womanhood and marry
The spirits of wood and water, but who can tell
When I was born for the first time? I think
I am much older than the eagle cock
That blinks and blinks on Ballygawley Hill,
And he is the oldest thing under the moon.

FATHER HART.

She is of the faery people.

THE CHILD.

I am Brig's daughter.
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 in a
stupor 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.

I will confront this mighty spirit alone.

[_They cling to him and hold him back. _

THE CHILD [_while she strews the primroses_].

No one whose heart is heavy with human tears
Can cross these little cressets of the wood.

FATHER HART.

Be not afraid, the Father is with us,
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. _]

Cry, daughter, to the Angels and the Saints.

THE CHILD.

You shall go with me, newly-married bride,
And gaze upon a merrier multitude;
White-armed Nuala and Aengus of the birds,
And 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.

Daughter, I call you unto home and love!

THE CHILD.

Stay, and come with me, newly-married bride,
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.

Daughter, I point you out the way to heaven.

THE CHILD.

But I can lead you, newly-married bride,
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.

By the dear name of the One crucified,
I bid you, Maire Bruin, come to me.

THE CHILD.

I keep you in the name of your own heart!

[_She leaves the settle, and stooping takes up a mass
of primroses and kisses them. _]

We have great power to-night, dear golden folk,
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 belfry! [_To MAIRE_] Come away,
I hear my brethren bidding us away!

FATHER HART.

I will go fetch the crucifix again.

[_They hang about him in terror and prevent him from
moving. _

BRIDGET BRUIN.

The enchanted flowers will kill us if you go.

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

They turn the flowers to little twisted flames.

SHAWN BRUIN.

The little twisted flames burn up the heart.

THE CHILD.

I hear them crying, 'Newly-married bride,
Come to the woods and waters and pale lights. '

MAIRE BRUIN.

I will go with you.

FATHER HART.

She is lost, alas!

THE CHILD [_standing by the door_].

Then, follow: but the heavy body of clay
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.

Then take my soul. [_SHAWN BRUIN goes over to her. _

SHAWN BRUIN.

Beloved, do not leave me!
Remember when I met you by the well
And took your hand in mine and spoke of love.

MAIRE BRUIN.

Dear face! Dear voice!

THE CHILD.

Come, newly-married bride!

MAIRE BRUIN.

I always loved her world--and yet--and yet--

[_Sinks into his arms. _

THE CHILD [_from the door_].

White bird, white bird, come with me, little bird.

MAIRE BRUIN.

She calls my soul!

THE CHILD.

Come with me, little bird!

MAIRE BRUIN.

I can hear songs and dancing!

SHAWN BRUIN.

Stay with me!

MAIRE BRUIN.

I think that I would stay--and yet--and yet--

THE CHILD.

Come, little bird with crest of gold!

MAIRE BRUIN [_very softly_].

And yet--

THE CHILD.

Come, little bird with silver feet!

[_MAIRE dies, and THE CHILD goes. _

SHAWN BRUIN.

She is dead!

BRIDGET BRUIN.

Come from that image there: she is far away:
You have thrown your arms about a drift of leaves
Or bole of an ash-tree changed into her image.

FATHER HART.

Thus do the spirits of evil snatch their prey
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 [_singing outside_].

_The wind blows out of the gates of the day,
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 is withered 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. _]




THE UNICORN FROM THE STARS




_PERSONS IN THE PLAY_


FATHER JOHN
THOMAS HEARNE, _a coachbuilder_
ANDREW HEARNE, _his brother_
MARTIN HEARNE, _his nephew_
JOHNNY BACACH }
PAUDEEN } _beggars_
BIDDY LALLY }
NANNY }




THE UNICORN FROM THE STARS




ACT I.


_Interior of a coachbuilder's workshop. Parts of a
gilded coach, among them an ornament representing a
lion and unicorn. THOMAS working at a wheel. FATHER
JOHN coming from door of inner room. _

FATHER JOHN.

I have prayed over Martin. I have prayed a long time, but there is no
move in him yet.

THOMAS.

You are giving yourself too much trouble, Father. It's as good for you
to leave him alone till the doctor's bottle will come. If there is any
cure at all for what is on him, it is likely the doctor will have it.

FATHER JOHN.

I think it is not doctor's medicine will help him in this case.

THOMAS.

It will, it will. The doctor has his business learned well. If Andrew
had gone to him the time I bade him and had not turned again to bring
yourself to the house, it is likely Martin would be walking at this
time. I am loth to trouble you, Father, when the business is not of
your own sort. Any doctor at all should be able and well able to cure
the falling sickness.

FATHER JOHN.

It is not any common sickness that is on him now.

THOMAS.

I thought at the first it was gone to sleep he was. But when shaking
him and roaring at him failed to rouse him, I knew well it was the
falling sickness. Believe me, the doctor will reach it with his drugs.

FATHER JOHN.

Nothing but prayer can reach a soul that is so far beyond the world as
his soul is at this moment.

THOMAS.

You are not saying that the life is gone out of him!

FATHER JOHN.

No, no, his life is in no danger. But where he himself, the spirit, the
soul, is gone, I cannot say. It has gone beyond our imaginings. He is
fallen into a trance.

THOMAS.

He used to be queer as a child, going asleep in the fields, and coming
back with talk of white horses he saw, and bright people like angels or
whatever they were. But I mended that. I taught him to recognise stones
beyond angels with a few strokes of a rod. I would never give in to
visions or to trances.

FATHER JOHN.

We who hold the faith have no right to speak against trance or vision.
Saint Elizabeth had them, Saint Benedict, Saint Anthony, Saint
Columcille. Saint Catherine of Siena often lay a long time as if dead.

THOMAS.

That might be so in the olden time, but those things are gone out
of the world now. Those that do their work fair and honest have no
occasion to let the mind go rambling. What would send my nephew, Martin
Hearne, into a trance, supposing trances to be in it, and he rubbing
the gold on the lion and unicorn that he had taken in hand to make a
good job of for the top of the coach?

FATHER JOHN [_taking up ornament_].

It is likely it was that sent him off. The flashing of light upon
it would be enough to throw one that had a disposition to it into a
trance. There was a very saintly man, though he was not of our church;
he wrote a great book called _Mysterium Magnum_ was seven days in
a trance. Truth, or whatever truth he found, fell upon him like a
bursting shower, and he a poor tradesman at his work. It was a ray of
sunlight on a pewter vessel that was the beginning of all. [_Goes to
the door and looks in. _] There is no stir in him yet. It is either the
best thing or the worst thing can happen to anyone, that is happening
to him now.

THOMAS.

And what in the living world can happen to a man that is asleep on his
bed?

FATHER JOHN.

There are some would answer you that it is to those who are awake that
nothing happens, and it is they that know nothing. He is gone where all
have gone for supreme truth.

THOMAS.

[_Sitting down again and taking up tools. _]

Well, maybe so. But work must go on and coachbuilding must go on,
and they will not go on the time there is too much attention given
to dreams. A dream is a sort of a shadow, no profit in it to anyone
at all. A coach, now, is a real thing and a thing that will last for
generations and be made use of to the last, and maybe turn to be a
hen-roost at its latter end.

FATHER JOHN.

I think Andrew told me it was a dream of Martin's that led to the
making of that coach.

THOMAS.

Well, I believe he saw gold in some dream, and it led him to want to
make some golden thing, and coaches being the handiest, nothing would
do him till he put the most of his fortune into the making of this
golden coach. It turned out better than I thought, for some of the
lawyers came looking at it at Assize time, and through them it was
heard of at Dublin Castle . . . and who now has it ordered but the Lord
Lieutenant! [_FATHER JOHN nods. _] Ready it must be and sent off it must
be by the end of the month. It is likely King George will be visiting
Dublin, and it is he himself will be sitting in it yet.

FATHER JOHN.

Martin has been working hard at it, I know.

THOMAS.

You never saw a man work the way he did, day and night, near ever since
the time six months ago he first came home from France.

FATHER JOHN.

I never thought he would be so good at a trade. I thought his mind was
only set on books.

THOMAS.

He should be thankful to myself for that. Any person I will take in
hand, I make a clean job of them the same as I would make of any other
thing in my yard--coach, half-coach, hackney-coach, ass-car, common-car,
post-chaise, calash, chariot on two wheels, on four wheels. Each one
has the shape Thomas Hearne put on it, and it in his hands; and what I
can do with wood and iron, why would I not be able to do it with flesh
and blood, and it in a way my own?

FATHER JOHN.

Indeed, I know you did your best for Martin.

THOMAS.

Every best. Checked him, taught him the trade, sent him to the
monastery in France for to learn the language and to see the wide
world; but who should know that if you did not know it, Father John,
and I doing it according to your own advice?

FATHER JOHN.

I thought his nature needed spiritual guidance and teaching, the best
that could be found.

THOMAS.

I thought myself it was best for him to be away for a while. There are
too many wild lads about this place. He to have stopped here, he might
have taken some fancies, and got into some trouble, going against the
Government maybe the same as Johnny Gibbons that is at this time an
outlaw, having a price upon his head.

FATHER JOHN.

That is so. That imagination of his might have taken fire here at home.