The Land of Hearts Desire | Page 4

is the child of gentle people; look
At her white hands and at her
pretty dress.
I've brought you some new milk, but wait awhile
And I
will put it by the fire to warm,
For things well fitted for poor folk like
us
Would never please a high-born child like you.
THE CHILD.
Old mother, my old mother, the green dawn
Brightens above while
you blow up the fire;
And evening finds you spreading the white
cloth.
The young may lie in bed and dream and hope,
But you work
on because your heart is old.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
The young are idle.
THE CHILD.
Old father, you are wise,
And all the years have gathered in your
heart
To whisper of the wonders that are gone.
The young must
sigh through many a dream and hope,
But you are wise because your
heart is old.

MAURTEEN BRUIN.
O, who would think to find so young a child
Loving old age and
wisdom.
[BRIDGET gives her more bread and honey.
THE CHILD.
No more, mother.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
What a small bite; The milk is ready now;
What a small sip!
THE CHILD.
Put on my shoes, old mother,
For I would like to dance now I have
dined.
The reeds are dancing by Coolaney lake,
And I would like to
dance until the reeds
And the loud wind, the white wave on the shore,

And all the stars have danced themselves to sleep.
[BRIDGET _having put on her shoes, she gets off the old man's knees
and is about to dance, but suddenly sees the crucifix and shrieks and
covers her eyes._
What is that ugly thing on the black cross?
FATHER HART.
You cannot know how naughty your words are!
That is Our Blessed
Lord!
THE CHILD.
Hide it away!
BRIDGET BRUIN.

I have begun to be afraid again!
THE CHILD.
Hide it away!
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
That would be wickedness!
BRIDGET BRUIN.
That would be sacrilege!
THE CHILD
The tortured thing!
Hide it away.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Her parents are to blame.
FATHER HART.
That is the image of the Son of God.
[The_ CHILD puts her arm round his neck lovingly and kisses him.
THE CHILD.
Hide it away! Hide it away!
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
No! no!
FATHER HART.
Because you are so young and little a child
I will go take it down.

THE CHILD.
Hide it away,
And cover it out of sight and out of mind.
FATHER HART (_takes it down and carries it towards the inner
room)._
Since you have come into this barony
I will instruct you in our
blessed faith:
Being a clever child you will soon learn.
(_To the others.)
We must be tender with all budding things,
Our Maker let no thought
of Calvary
Trouble the morning stars in their first song.
[Puts the crucifix in the inner room.
THE CHILD.
O, what a nice, smooth floor to dance upon!
The wind is blowing on
the waving reeds,
The wind is blowing on the heart of man.
[She dances, swaying about like the reeds.
MAIRE (to SHAWN BRUIN).
Just now when she came near I thought I heard
Other small steps
beating upon the floor,
And a faint music blowing in the wind--

Invisible pipes giving her feet the time.
SHAWN BRUIN.
I heard no step but hers.
MAIRE BRUIN.
Look to the bolt!
Because the unholy powers are abroad.

MAURTEEN BRUIN (to the CHILD).
Come over here, and if you promise me
Not to talk wickedly of holy
things
I'll give you something.
THE CHILD.
Bring it me, old father!
[MAURTEEN BRUIN goes into the next room.
FATHER HART.
I will have queen cakes when you come to me!
[MAURTEEN BRUIN returns and lays a piece of money on the table.
The CHILD makes a gesture of refusal.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
It will buy lots of toys; see how it glitters!
THE CHILD.
Come, tell me, do you love me?
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
I love you!
THE CHILD.
Ah! but you love this fireside!
FATHER HART.
I love you.
THE CHILD.

But you love Him above.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
She is blaspheming.
THE CHILD (to MAIRE).
And do you likewise love me?
MAIRE BRUIN.
I don't know.
THE CHILD.
You love that great tall fellow over 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!
MAIRE BRUIN.
Queen of the Angels and kind Saints defend us!
Some dreadful fate
has fallen: before she came
The wind cried out and took the
primroses.
And I gave milk and fire, and when she came
She made
you hide the blessed crucifix;
She wears, too, the green jacket and red
cap
Of the unholy creatures of the Raths.
FATHER HART.
You fear because of her wild, pretty prates;
She knows no better.
(To the CHILD) Child, how old are you?
THE CHILD.
My own dear people live a long, long time,
So I am young; but
measure by your years
And I am older than the eagle cock
Who

blinks and blinks on Ballydawley Hill,
And