MARY. I do not know.
THE CHILD. You love that young man 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.
MARY. Queen of Angels and kind saints defend us!
Some dreadful thing will happen. A while ago
She took away the blessed quicken wood.
FATHER HART. You fear because of her unmeasured prattle;
She knows no better. 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. O she is of the faery people.
THE CHILD. One called,
I sent my messengers for milk and fire,
She called again and after that I came.
(All except SHAWN and MARY BRUIN gather behind the priest
for protection.)
SHAWN (rising) Though you have made all these obedient,
You have not charmed my sight and won from me
A wish or gift to make you powerful;
I'll turn you from the house.
FATHER HART. No, I will face her.
THE CHILD. Because you took away the crucifix
I am so mighty that there's none can pass,
Unless I will it, where my feet have danced
Or where I've whirled my finger-tops.
(SHAWN tries to approach her and cannot.)
MAURTEEN. Look, look!
There something stops him--look how he moves his hands
As though he rubbed them on a wall of glass!
FATHER HART. I will confront this mighty spirit alone.
Be not afraid, the Father is with us,
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 all the nine angelic hierarchies.
(The CHILD kneels upon the settle beside MARY and puts her arms
about her.)
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, Aengus of the Birds,
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.
SHAWN. Awake out of that trance--and cover up
Your eyes and ears.
FATHER HART. She must both look and listen,
For only the soul's choice can save her now.
Come over to me, daughter; stand beside me;
Think of this house and of your duties in it.
THE CHILD. Stay and come with me, newly-married bride,
For if you hear him you grow like the rest;
Bear children, cook, and bend above the churn,
And wrangle over butter, fowl, and eggs,
Until at last, grown old and bitter of tongue,
You're crouching there and shivering at the grave.
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 but obedient to the thoughts
That drift into the mind at a wink of the eye.
FATHER HART. . By the dear Name of the One crucified,
I bid you, Mary Bruin, come to me.
THE CHILD. I keep you in the name of your own heart.
FATHER HART. It is because I put away the crucifix
That I am nothing, and my power is nothing,
I'll bring it here again.
MAURTEEN (clinging to him) No!
BRIDGET. Do not leave us.
FATHER HART. O, let me go before it is too late;
It is my sin alone that brought it all.
(Singing outside.)
THE CHILD. I hear them sing, "Come, newly-married bride,
Come, to the woods and waters and pale lights."
MARY. I will go with you.
FATHER HART. She is lost, alas!
THE CHILD (standing by the door)
But 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 banner of the dawn.
MARY. O, take me with you.
SHAWN. Beloved, I will keep you.
I've more than words, I have these arms to hold you,
Nor all the faery host, do what they please,
Shall ever make me loosen you from these arms.
MARY. Dear face! Dear voice!
THE CHILD. Come, newly-married bride.