Deirdre of the Sorrows [19]
and it was Naisi who was old and desolate. [Keen heard.
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DEIRDRE -- wild with sorrow. -- It is I who am desolate; I, Deirdre, that will not live till I am old. CONCHUBOR. It's not long you'll be desolate, and I seven years saying, "It's a bright day for Deirdre in the woods of Alban"; or saying again, "What way will Deirdre be sleeping this night, and wet leaves and branches driving from the north?" Let you not break the thing I've set my life on, and you giving yourself up to your sorrow when it's joy and sorrow do burn out like straw blazing in an east wind. DEIRDRE -- turning on him. -- Was it that way with your sorrow, when I and Naisi went northward from Slieve Fuadh and let raise our sails for Alban? CONCHUBOR. There's one sorrow has no end surely -- that's being old and lone- some. (With extraordinary pleading.) But you and I will have a little peace in Emain, with harps playing, and old men telling stories at the fall of night. I've let build rooms for our two selves, Deirdre, with red gold upon the walls and ceilings that are set with bronze. There was never a queen in the east had a house the like of your house, that's wait- ing for yourself in Emain.
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SOLDIER -- running in. -- Emain is in flames. Fergus has come back and is setting fire to the world. Come up, Conchubor, or your state will be destroyed! CONCHUBOR -- angry and regal again. -- Are the Sons of Usna buried? SOLDIER. They are in their grave, but no earth is thrown. CONCHUBOR. Let me see them. Open the tent! (Soldier opens back of tent and shows grave.) Where are my fighters? SOLDIER. They are gone to Emain. CONCHUBOR -- to Deirdre. -- There are none to harm you. Stay here until I come again. [Goes out with Soldier. Deirdre looks round for a moment, then goes up slow- ly and looks into grave. She crouches down and begins swaying herself backwards and forwards, keening soft- ly. At first her words are not heard, then they become clear. DEIRDRE. It's you three will not see age or death coming -- you that were my com- pany when the fires on the hill-tops were put out and the stars were our friends only. I'll turn my thoughts back from this night, that's
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pitiful for want of pity, to the time it was your rods and cloaks made a little tent for me where there'd be a birch tree making shelter and a dry stone; though from this day my own fingers will be making a tent for me, spreading out my hairs and they knotted with the rain. [Lavarcham and Old Woman come in stealthily on right. DEIRDRE -- not seeing them. -- It is I, Deirdre, will be crouching in a dark place; I, Deirdre, that was young with Naisi, and brought sorrow to his grave in Emain. OLD WOMAN. Is that Deirdre broken down that was so light and airy? LAVARCHAM. It is, surely, crying out over their grave. [She goes to Deirdre. DEIRDRE. It will be my share from this out to be making lamentation on his stone always, and I crying for a love will be the like of a star shining on a little harbour by the sea. LAVARCHAM -- coming forward. -- Let you rise up, Deirdre, and come off while there are none to heed us, the way I'll find you shelter and some friend to guard you. DEIRDRE. To what place would I go away from Naisi? What are the woods with- out Naisi or the sea shore?
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LAVARCHAM -- very coaxingly. -- If it is that way you'd be, come till I find you a sunny place where you'll be a great wonder they'll call the queen of sorrows; and you'll begin taking a pride to be sitting up pausing and dreaming when the summer comes. DEIRDRE. It was the voice of Naisi that was strong in summer -- the voice of Naisi that was sweeter than pipes playing, but from this day will be dumb always. LAVARCHAM -- to Old Woman. -- She doesn't heed us at all. We'll be hard set to rouse her. OLD WOMAN. If we don't the
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DEIRDRE -- wild with sorrow. -- It is I who am desolate; I, Deirdre, that will not live till I am old. CONCHUBOR. It's not long you'll be desolate, and I seven years saying, "It's a bright day for Deirdre in the woods of Alban"; or saying again, "What way will Deirdre be sleeping this night, and wet leaves and branches driving from the north?" Let you not break the thing I've set my life on, and you giving yourself up to your sorrow when it's joy and sorrow do burn out like straw blazing in an east wind. DEIRDRE -- turning on him. -- Was it that way with your sorrow, when I and Naisi went northward from Slieve Fuadh and let raise our sails for Alban? CONCHUBOR. There's one sorrow has no end surely -- that's being old and lone- some. (With extraordinary pleading.) But you and I will have a little peace in Emain, with harps playing, and old men telling stories at the fall of night. I've let build rooms for our two selves, Deirdre, with red gold upon the walls and ceilings that are set with bronze. There was never a queen in the east had a house the like of your house, that's wait- ing for yourself in Emain.
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SOLDIER -- running in. -- Emain is in flames. Fergus has come back and is setting fire to the world. Come up, Conchubor, or your state will be destroyed! CONCHUBOR -- angry and regal again. -- Are the Sons of Usna buried? SOLDIER. They are in their grave, but no earth is thrown. CONCHUBOR. Let me see them. Open the tent! (Soldier opens back of tent and shows grave.) Where are my fighters? SOLDIER. They are gone to Emain. CONCHUBOR -- to Deirdre. -- There are none to harm you. Stay here until I come again. [Goes out with Soldier. Deirdre looks round for a moment, then goes up slow- ly and looks into grave. She crouches down and begins swaying herself backwards and forwards, keening soft- ly. At first her words are not heard, then they become clear. DEIRDRE. It's you three will not see age or death coming -- you that were my com- pany when the fires on the hill-tops were put out and the stars were our friends only. I'll turn my thoughts back from this night, that's
85
pitiful for want of pity, to the time it was your rods and cloaks made a little tent for me where there'd be a birch tree making shelter and a dry stone; though from this day my own fingers will be making a tent for me, spreading out my hairs and they knotted with the rain. [Lavarcham and Old Woman come in stealthily on right. DEIRDRE -- not seeing them. -- It is I, Deirdre, will be crouching in a dark place; I, Deirdre, that was young with Naisi, and brought sorrow to his grave in Emain. OLD WOMAN. Is that Deirdre broken down that was so light and airy? LAVARCHAM. It is, surely, crying out over their grave. [She goes to Deirdre. DEIRDRE. It will be my share from this out to be making lamentation on his stone always, and I crying for a love will be the like of a star shining on a little harbour by the sea. LAVARCHAM -- coming forward. -- Let you rise up, Deirdre, and come off while there are none to heed us, the way I'll find you shelter and some friend to guard you. DEIRDRE. To what place would I go away from Naisi? What are the woods with- out Naisi or the sea shore?
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LAVARCHAM -- very coaxingly. -- If it is that way you'd be, come till I find you a sunny place where you'll be a great wonder they'll call the queen of sorrows; and you'll begin taking a pride to be sitting up pausing and dreaming when the summer comes. DEIRDRE. It was the voice of Naisi that was strong in summer -- the voice of Naisi that was sweeter than pipes playing, but from this day will be dumb always. LAVARCHAM -- to Old Woman. -- She doesn't heed us at all. We'll be hard set to rouse her. OLD WOMAN. If we don't the