The following is the version of a passage in this play, which was with
the Author’s manuscript:
COLM. Is it to die like rats you’d have us because the word is not
given?
CUIMIN. Our plans are not finished. Our orders are not here.
COLM. Our plans will never be finished. Our orders may never be here.
CUIMIN. We’ve no one to lead us.
COLM. Didn’t you elect me your captain?
CUIMIN. We did, but not to bid us rise out when the whole country is
quiet. We were to get the word from the men that are over the people.
They’ll speak when the time comes. (_The door opens again and Feichin
comes in with two or three others._) Am I speaking lie or truth, men?
Colm here wants us to rise out before the word comes. I say we must
wait for the word. What do you say, Feichin, you that’s got a wiser
head than these young fellows?
FEICHIN. God forgive me if I’m wrong, but I say we should wait for our
orders.
CUIMIN. What do you say, Diarmaid?
DIARMAID. I like you, Colm, for the way you spoke so well and bravely;
but I’m slow to give my voice to send out the boys of this
mountain--our poor little handful--to stand with their poor little
pikes against the big guns of the Gall. If we had news that they were
rising in the other countrysides; but we’ve got no news.
COLM. Master, you haven’t spoken yet. I’m afraid to ask you to speak.
MAOILSHEACHLAINN. Cuimin is right when he says that we must not rise
out until we get the word; but what do you say, neighbours, if the man
that’ll give the word is under the roof of this house?
DIARMAID. What do you mean?
MAOILSHEACHLAINN (_going to the door of the room and throwing it
open_). Let you rise out, MacDara, and reveal yourself to the men that
are waiting your word!
FEICHIN. Has MacDara come home?
_MacDara comes out of the room, Maire ni Fhiannachta and Sighle
stand behind him in the doorway._
DIARMAID (_starting up_). That is the man that stood among the people
in the fair of Uachtar Ard! (_He goes up to MacDara and kisses his
hand._) I could not get near you yesterday, MacDara, the crowds were
so great. What was on me that I didn’t know you? Sure I ought to have
known that sad, proud head. Maire, men and women yet unborn will bless
the pains of your first childing.
MAIRE (_comes forward and takes her son’s hand and kisses it_). Soft
hand that played at my breast, strong hand that will fall heavy on the
Gall, brave hand that will break the yoke! Men of the mountain, my
son, MacDara, is the Singer that has quickened the dead years and the
young blood. Let the horsemen that sleep in Aileach rise up to-day and
follow him into the war!
_They come forward, one by one, and kiss his hand, Colm and Sighle
last._
COLM. The Gall have marched from Clifden, MacDara. I wanted to rise
out to-day, but these old men think it is not yet time.
CUIMIN. We were waiting for the word.
MACDARA. And must I speak the word? Old men, you have left me no
choice. I had hoped that more would not be asked of me than to sow the
secret word of hope, and that the toil of the reaping would be for
others. But I see that one does not serve