A man, they say, Loved Maeve the Queen of all the invisible host, And died of his love nine centuries ago. And now, when the moon's riding at the full, She leaves her dancers lonely and lies there Upon that level place, and for three days Stretches and sighs and wets her long pale cheeks. CATHLEEN So she loves truly. ALEEL No, but wets her cheeks, Lady, because she has forgot his name. CATHLEEN She'd sleep that trouble away--though it must be A heavy trouble to forget his name-- If she had better sense. OONA Your own house, lady. ALEEL She sleeps high up on wintry Knock-na-rea In an old cairn of stones; while her poor women Must lie and jog in the wave if they would sleep-- Being water born--yet if she cry their names They run up on the land and dance in the moon Till they are giddy and would love as men do, And be as patient and as pitiful. But there is nothing that will stop in their heads They've such poor memories, though they weep for it. Oh, yes, they weep; that's when the moon is full. CATHLEEN Is it because they have short memories They live so long? ALEEL What's memory but the ash That chokes our fires that have begun to sink? And they've a dizzy, everlasting fire. OONA There is your own house, lady. CATHLEEN Why, that's true, And we'd have passed it without noticing. ALEEL A curse upon it for a meddlesome house! Had it but stayed away I would have known What Queen Maeve thinks on when the moon is pinched; And whether now--as in the old days--the dancers Set their brief love on men. OONA Rest on my arm. These are no thoughts for any Christian ear. ALEEL I am younger, she would be too heavy for you. (_He begins taking his lute out of the bag_, CATHLEEN, _who has turned towards_ OONA, _turns back to him_.) This hollow box remembers every foot That danced upon the level grass of the world, And will tell secrets if I whisper to it. (_Sings._) Lift up the white knee; Hear what they sing, Those young dancers That in a ring Raved but now Of the hearts that brake Long, long ago For their sake. OONA New friends are sweet. ALEEL "But the dance changes. Lift up the gown, All that sorrow Is trodden down." OONA The empty rattle-pate! Lean on this arm, That I can tell you is a christened arm, And not like some, if we are to judge by speech. But as you please. It is time I was forgot. Maybe it is not on this arm you slumbered When you were as helpless as a worm. ALEEL Stay with me till we come to your own house. CATHLEEN (_sitting down_) When I am rested I will need no help. ALEEL