Fool,
fool! Although you have looked into my face |
You do not see my purpose. I shall have gone |
Before
a hand can touch me. |
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Forgael [folding his arms]. My hands are still; |
The Ever-living hold us. Do what
you will, |
You cannot leap out of the golden net. |
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First Sailor. No need to drown, for, if you will pardon
us |
And measure out a course and bring us home, |
Well put this man to death. |
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Dectora. I promise it. |
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First Sailor. There is none to take his side. |
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Aibric. I am on his side. |
Ill strike a blow for him to give
him time |
To cast his dreams away. |
[Aibric goes in front of Forgael with drawn sword. Forgael takes
the harp.] |
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First Sailor. No other ll do it. |
[The Sailors throw Aibric on one side. He falls and lies upon
the deck. They lift their swords to strike Forgael, who is about to play the harp. The stage begins to
darken. The Sailors hesitate in fear.] |
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Second Sailor. He has put a sudden darkness over the moon. |
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Dectora. Nine swords with handles of rhinoceros horn |
To him that strikes him first! |
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First Sailor. I will
strike him first. |
[He goes close up to Forgael with his sword lifted.] |
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[Shrinking back.] He has caught
the crescent moon out of the sky, |
And carries it between us. |
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Second Sailor. Holy fire |
To burn us to
the marrow if we strike. |
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Dectora. Ill give a golden galley full of fruit, |
That has the heady flavour of new
wine, |
To him that wounds him to the death. |
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First Sailor. Ill do it. |
For all his spells will vanish when he
dies, |
Having their life in him. |
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Second Sailor. Though it be the moon |
That he is holding up between
us there, |
I will strike at him. |
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The Others. And I! And I! And I! |
[Forgael plays the harp.] |
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First Sailor
[falling into a dream suddenly]. But you were saying there is somebody |
Upon that other ship we are
to wake. |
You did not know what brought him to his end, |
But it was sudden. |
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Second Sailor. You are
in the right; |
I had forgotten that we must go wake him. |
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Dectora. He has flung a Druid spell upon the
air, |
And set you dreaming. |
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Second Sailor. How can we have a wake |
When we have neither brown
nor yellow ale? |
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First Sailor. I saw a flagon of brown ale aboard her. |
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Third Sailor. How can we raise
the keen that do not know |
What name to call him by? |
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First Sailor. Come to his ship. |
His name will
come into our thoughts in a minute. |
I know that he died a thousand years ago, |
And has not yet been
waked. |
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Second Sailor [beginning to keen]. Ohone! O! O! O! |
The yew-bough has been broken into two, |
And
all the birds are scattered. |
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All the Sailors. O! O! O! O! |
[They go out keening.] |
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Dectora. Protect
me now, gods that my people swear by. |
[Aibric has risen from the deck where he had fallen. He has
begun looking for his sword as if in a dream.] |
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Aibric. Where is my sword that fell out of my hand |
When
I first heard the news? Ah, there it is! |
[He goes dreamily towards the sword, but Dectora runs at it and
takes it up before he can reach it.] |
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Aibric [sleepily]. Queen, give it me. |
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Dectora. No, I have need of
it. |
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Aibric. Why do you need a sword? But you may keep it. |
Now that hes dead I have no need of it, |
For
everything is gone. |
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A Sailor [calling from the other ship]. Come hither, Aibric, |
And tell me who it is
that we are waking. |
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Aibric [half to Dectora, half to himself]. What name had that dead king? Arthur of
Britain? |
No, nonot Arthur. I remember now. |
It was golden-armed Iollan, and he died |
Broken-hearted,
having lost his queen |
Through wicked spells. That is not all the tale, |
For he was killed. O! O! O! O! O!
O! |
For golden-armed Iollan has been killed. |
[He goes out.] |
[While he has been speaking, and through
part of what follows, one hears the wailing of the Sailors from the other ship. Dectora stands with the
sword lifted in front of Forgael.] |
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Dectora. I will end all your magic on the instant. |
[Her voice becomes
dreamy, and she lowers the sword slowly, and finally lets it fall. She spreads out her hair. She takes
off her crown and lays it upon the deck.] |
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This sword is to lie beside him in the grave. |
It was in all his
battles. I will spread my hair, |
And wring m> |
This sword is to lie beside him in the grave. |
It was in all
his battles. I will spread my hair, |
And wring my hands, and wail him bitterly, |
For I have heard that he
was proud and laughing, |
Blue-eyed, and a quick runner on bare feet, |
And that he died a thousand years
ago. |
O! O! O! O! |
[Forgael changes the tune.] |
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But no, that is not it. |
I knew him well, and while I heard
him laughing |
They killed him at my feet. O! O! O! O! |
For golden-armed Iollan that I loved. |
But what is it
that made me say I loved him? |
It was that harper put it in my thoughts, |
But it is true. Why did they run
upon him, |
And beat the golden helmet with their swords? |
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Forgael. Do you not know me, lady? I am he |
That
you are weeping for. |
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Dectora. No, for he is dead. |
O! O! O! O! for golden-armed Iollan. |
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Forgael.
It was so given out, but I will prove |
That the grave-diggers in a dreamy frenzy |
Have buried nothing but
my golden arms. |
Listen to that low-laughing string of the moon |
And you will recollect my face and voice, |
For
you have listened to me playing it |
These thousand years. |
[He starts up, listening to the birds. The
harp slips from his hands, and remains leaning against the bulwarks behind him.] |
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What are the birds
at there? |
Why are they all a-flutter of a sudden? |
What are you calling out above the mast? |
If railing
and reproach and mockery |
Because I have awakened her to love |
By magic strings, Ill make this answer |