The Complete Works. William Butler Yeats

that I cry?’

      SECOND MUSICIAN.

      But her goodman answered her:

      ‘Love would be a thing of naught

      Had not all his limbs a stir

      Born out of immoderate thought;

      Were he anything by half,

      Were his measure running dry.

      Lovers, if they may not laugh,

      Have to cry, have to cry.’

      [DEIRDRE, NAISI, and FERGUS have been seen for a moment through the windows, but now they have entered. NAISI lays down shield and spear and helmet, as if weary. He goes to the door opposite to the door he entered by. He looks out on to the road that leads to CONCHUBAR’S house. If he is anxious, he would not have FERGUS or DEIRDRE notice it. Presently he comes from the door, and goes to the table where the chessboard is.

      THE THREE MUSICIANS [together].

      But is Edain worth a song

      Now the hunt begins anew?

      Praise the beautiful and strong;

      Praise the redness of the yew;

      Praise the blossoming apple-stem.

      But our silence had been wise.

      What is all our praise to them,

      That have one another’s eyes?

      FERGUS.

      You are welcome, lady.

      DEIDRE.

      Conchubar has not come.

      Were the peace honest, he’d have come himself

      To prove it so.

      FERGUS.

      Being no more in love,

      He stays in his own house, arranging where

      The curlew and the plover go, and where

      The speckled heath-cock in a golden dish.

      DEIDRE.

      But there’s no messenger.

      FERGUS.

      He’ll come himself

      When all’s in readiness and night closed in;

      But till that hour, these birds out of the waste

      Shall put his heart and mind into the music.

      There’s many a day that I have almost wept

      To think that one so delicately made

      Might never know the sweet and natural life

      Of women born to that magnificence,

      Quiet and music, courtesy and peace.

      DEIDRE.

      I have found life obscure and violent,

      And think it ever so; but none the less

      I thank you for your kindness, and thank these

      That put it into music.

      FERGUS.

      Your house has been

      The hole of the badger or the den of the fox;

      But all that’s finished, and your days will pass

      From this day out where life is smooth on the tongue,

      Because the grapes were trodden long ago.

      NAISI.

      If I was childish, and had faith in omens,

      I’d rather not have lit on that old chessboard

      At my home-coming.

      FERGUS.

      There’s a tale about it—

      It has been lying there these many years—

      Some wild old sorrowful tale.

      NAISI.

      It is the board

      Where Lugaidh Redstripe and that wife of his,

      Who had a seamew’s body half the year,

      Played at the chess upon the night they died.

      FERGUS.

      I can remember now a tale of treachery,

      A broken promise and a journey’s end;

      But it were best forgot.

      NAISI.

      If the tale is true,

      When it was plain that they had been betrayed,

      They moved the men, and waited for the end,

      As it were bedtime, and had so quiet minds

      They hardly winked their eyes when the sword flashed.

      FERGUS.

      She never could have played so, being a woman,

      If she had not the cold sea’s blood in her.

      DEIDRE.

      I have heard that th’ ever-living warn mankind

      By changing clouds, and casual accidents,

      Or what seem so.

      FERGUS.

      If there had been ill luck

      In lighting on this chessboard of a sudden,

      This flagon that stood on it when we came

      Has made all right again, for it should mean

      All wrongs forgiven, hospitality

      For bitter memory, peace after war,

      While that loaf there should add prosperity.

      Deirdre will see the world, as it were, new-made,

      If she’ll but eat and drink.

      NAISI.

      The flagon’s dry,

      Full of old cobwebs, and the bread is mouldy,

      Left by some traveller gone upon his way

      These many weeks.

      DEIDRE.

      No one to welcome us,

      And a bare house upon the journey’s end.

      Is that the welcome that a king spreads out

      For those that he would honour?

      NAISI.

      Hush! no more.

      You are King Conchubar’s guest, being in his house.

      You speak as women do that sit alone,

      Marking the ashes with a stick till they

      Are in a dreamy terror. Being a queen,

      You should have too calm thought to start at shadows.

      FERGUS.

      Come, let us look if there’s a messenger

      From Conchubar’s house. A little way without

      One sees the road for half a mile or so,

      Where the trees thin or thicken.

      NAISI.

      When those we love

      Speak words unfitting to the ear of kings,

      Kind