Deirdre of the Sorrows

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a day'll come when you begin pitying a man
is old and desolate, and High King also. . . .
Let you not fear me, for it's I'm well pleased
you have a store of pity for the three that were
your friends in Alban.
DEIRDRE. I have pity, surely. . . . It's
the way pity has me this night, when I think
of Naisi, that I could set my teeth into the
heart of a king.
CONCHUBOR. I know well pity's cruel,
when it was my pity for my own self destroyed
Naisi.
DEIRDRE -- more wildly. -- It was my
words without pity gave Naisi a death will
have no match until the ends of life and time.
(Breaking out into a keen.) But who'll pity
Deirdre has lost the lips of Naisi from her
neck and from her cheek for ever? Who'll
pity Deirdre has lost the twilight in the woods
with Naisi, when beech-trees were silver and
copper, and ash-trees were fine gold?
CONCHUBOR -- bewildered. -- It's I'll
know the way to pity and care you, and I with
a share of troubles has me thinking this night
it would be a good bargain if it was I was in
the grave, and Deirdre crying over me, 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.

84

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?

86

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 High
King will rouse her, coming down beside her
with the rage of battle in his blood, for how
could Fergus stand against him?
LAVARCHAM -- touching Deirdre with
her hand. -- There's a score of woman's years
in store for you, and you'd best choose will
you start living them beside the man you hate,
or being your own mistress in the west or
south?
DEIRDRE. It is not I will go on living
after Ainnle and after Ardan. After Naisi I
will not have a lifetime in the world.
OLD WOMAN -- with excitement. -- Look,
Lavarcham! There's a light leaving the Red

87

Branch. Conchubor and his lot will be com-
ing quickly with a torch of bog-deal for her
marriage, throwing a light on her three com-
rades.
DEIRDRE -- startled. -- Let us throw down
clay on my three comrades. Let us cover up
Naisi along with Ainnle and Ardan, they that
were the pride of Emain. (Throwing in
clay.) There is Naisi was the best of three,
the choicest of the choice of many. It was a
clean death was your share, Naisi; and it is
not I will quit your head, when it's many a
dark night among the snipe and plover that
you and I were whispering together. It is
not I will quit your head, Naisi, when it's
many a night we saw the stars among the clear
trees of Glen da Ruadh, or the moon pausing
to rest her on the edges of the hills.
OLD WOMAN. Conchubor is coming,
surely. I see the glare of flames throwing a
light upon his cloak.
LAVARCHAM -- eagerly. -- Rise up,
Deirdre, and come to Fergus, or be the High
King's slave for ever!
DEIRDRE -- imperiously. -- I will not
leave Naisi, who has left the whole world
scorched and desolate. I will not go away
when there is no light in the heavens, and no

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flower in the earth under them, but is saying
to me that it is Naisi who is gone for ever.
CONCHUBOR -- behind. -- She is here.
Stay a little back. (Lavarcham and Old
Woman go into the shadow on left as Con-
chubor comes in. With excitement, to
Deirdre.) Come forward and leave Naisi the
way I've left charred timber and a smell of
burning in Emain Macha, and a heap of rub-
bish in the storehouse of many crowns.
DEIRDRE -- more awake to what is round
her. -- What are crowns and Emain Macha,
when the head that gave them glory is this
place, Conchubor, and it stretched upon the
gravel will be my bed to-night?
CONCHUBOR. Make an end of talk of
Naisi, for I've come to bring you to Dundeal-
gan since Emain is destroyed.
[Conchubor makes a movement towards
her.
DEIRDRE -- with a tone that stops him. --
Draw a little back from Naisi, who is young
for ever. Draw a little back from the white
bodies I am putting under a mound of clay
and grasses that are withered -- a mound will
have a nook for my own self when the end is
come.
CONCHUBOR -- roughly. -- Let you rise

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up and come along with me in place of grow-
ing crazy with your wailings here.
DEIRDRE. It's yourself has made a crazy
story, and let you go back to your arms, Con-
chubor, and to councils where your name is
great, for in this place you are an old man
and a fool only.
CONCHUBOR. If I've folly, I've sense
left not to lose the thing I've bought with
sorrow and the deaths of many.
[He moves towards her.
DEIRDRE. Do not raise a hand to touch
me.
CONCHUBOR. There are other hands to
touch you. My fighters are set round in
among the trees.
DEIRDRE. Who'll fight the grave, Con-
chubor, and it opened on a dark night?
LAVARCHAM -- eagerly. -- There are
steps in the wood. I hear the call of Fergus
and his men.
CONCHUBOR -- furiously. -- Fergus can-
not stop me. I am more powerful than he is,
though I am defeated and old.
FERGUS -- comes in to Deirdre; a red
glow is seen behind the grove. -- I have de-
stroyed Emain, and now I'll guard you all

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times, Deirdre, though it was I, without
knowledge, brought Naisi to his grave.
CONCHUBOR. It's not you will guard
her, for my whole armies are gathering. Rise
up, Deirdre, for you are mine surely.
FERGUS -- coming between them. -- I am
come between you.
CONCHUBOR -- wildly. -- When I've
killed Naisi and his brothers, is there any man
that I will spare? And is it you will stand
against me, Fergus, when it's seven years
you've seen me getting my death with rage
in Emain?
FERGUS. It's I, surely, will stand against
a thief and a traitor.
DEIRDRE -- stands up and sees the light
from Emain. -- Draw a little back with the
squabbling of fools when I am broken up
with misery. (She turns round.) I see the
flames of Emain starting upward in the dark
night; and because of me there will be weasels
and wild cats crying on a lonely wall where
there were queens and armies and red gold,
the way there will be a story told of a ruined
city and a raving king and a woman will be
young for ever. (She looks round.) I see
the trees naked and bare, and the moon
shining. Little moon, little moon of Alban,

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it's lonesome you'll be this night, and to-
morrow night, and long nights after, and you
pacing the woods beyond Glen Laoi, looking
every place for Deirdre and Naisi, the two
lovers who slept so sweetly with each other.
FERGUS -- going to Conchubor's right
and whispering. -- Keep back, or you will have
the shame of pushing a bolt on a queen who is
out of her wits.
CONCHUBOR. It is I who am out of
my wits, with Emain in flames, and Deirdre
raving, and my own heart gone within me.
DEIRDRE -- in a high and quiet tone. --
I have put away sorrow like a shoe that is
worn out and muddy, for it is I have had a life
that will be envied by great companies. It
was not by a low birth I made kings uneasy,
and they sitting in the halls of Emain. It
was not a low thing to be chosen by Conchubor,
who was wise, and Naisi had no match for
bravery. It is not a small thing to be rid of
grey hairs, and the loosening of the teeth.
(With a sort of triumph.) It was the choice
of lives we had in the clear woods, and in the
grave, we're safe, surely. . . .
CONCHUBOR. She will do herself harm.
DEIRDRE -- showing Naisi's knife. -- I
have a little key to unlock the prison of Naisi

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you'd shut upon his youth for ever. Keep
back, Conchubor; for the High King who is
your master has put his hands between us.
(She half turns to the grave.) It was sorrows
were foretold, but great joys were my share
always; yet it is a cold place I must go to be
with you, Naisi; and it's cold your arms will
be this night that were warm about my neck
so often. . . . It's a pitiful thing to be talk-
ing out when your ears are shut to me. It's
a pitiful thing, Conchubor, you have done this
night in Emain; yet a thing will be a joy and
triumph to the ends of life and time.
[She presses knife into her heart and
sinks into the grave. Conchubor and
Fergus go forward. The red glow
fades, leaving stage very dark.
FERGUS. Four white bodies are laid
down together; four clear lights are quenched
in Ireland. (He throws his sword into the
grave.) There is my sword that could not
shield you -- my four friends that were the
dearest always. The flames of Emain have
gone out: Deirdre is dead and there is none to
keen her. That is the fate of Deirdre and
the children of Usna, and for this night, Con-
chubor, our war is ended. [He goes out.

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LAVARCHAM. I have a little hut where
you can rest, Conchubor; there is a great dew
falling.
CONCHUBOR -- with the voice of an old
man. -- Take me with you. I'm hard set to
see the way before me.
OLD WOMAN. This way, Conchubor.
[They go out.
LAVARCHAM -- beside the grave. --
Deirdre is dead, and Naisi is dead; and if the
oaks and stars could die for sorrow, it's a dark
sky and a hard and naked earth we'd have
this night in Emain.

CURTAIN

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APPENDIX

DEIRDRE OF THE SORROWS was first pro-
duced at the Abbey Theatre, Dublin, on
Thursday, January 13th, 1910, with the fol-
lowing cast:

Lavarcham SARA ALLGOOD

Old Woman EILEEN O'DOHERTY

Owen J. A. O'ROURKE

Conchubor ARTHUR SINCLAIR

Fergus SYDNEY J. MORGAN

Deirdre MAIRE O'NEILL

Naisi FRED O'DONOVAN

Ainnle J. M. KERRIGAN

Ardan JOHN CARRICK

{AMBROSE POWER
Two Soldiers {
{HARRY YOUNG

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