We were under the tree where the path turns, When she grew pale as death and fainted away. And while we bore her hither cloudy gusts Blackened the world and shook us on our feet; Draw the great bolt, for no man has beheld So black, bitter, blinding, and sudden a storm. (_One who is near the door draws the bolt._) CATHLEEN O, hold me, and hold me tightly, for the storm Is dragging me away. (OONA _takes her in her arms_. A WOMAN _begins to wail_.) PEASANT Hush! PEASANTS Hush! PEASANT WOMEN Hush! OTHER PEASANT WOMEN Hush! CATHLEEN (_half rising_) Lay all the bags of money in a heap, And when I am gone, old Oona, share them out To every man and woman: judge, and give According to their needs. A PEASANT WOMAN And will she give Enough to keep my children through the dearth? ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN O, Queen of Heaven, and all you blessed saints, Let us and ours be lost so she be shriven. CATHLEEN Bend down your faces, Oona and Aleel; I gaze upon them as the swallow gazes Upon the nest under the eave, before She wander the loud waters. Do not weep Too great a while, for there is many a candle On the High Altar though one fall. Aleel, Who sang about the dancers of the woods, That know not the hard burden of the world, Having but breath in their kind bodies, farewell! And farewell, Oona, you who played with me, And bore me in your arms about the house When I was but a child and therefore happy, Therefore happy, even like those that dance. The storm is in my hair and I must go. (_She dies._) OONA Bring me the looking-glass. (A WOMAN _brings it to her out of the inner room_. OONA _holds it over the lips of_ CATHLEEN. _All is silent for a moment. And then she speaks in a half scream_:) O, she is dead! A PEASANT She was the great white lily of the world. A PEASANT She was more beautiful than the pale stars. AN OLD PEASANT WOMAN The little plant I love is broken in two. (ALEEL _takes looking-glass from_ OONA _and flings it upon the floor so that it is broken in many pieces_.) ALEEL I shatter you in fragments, for the face That brimmed you up with beauty is no more: And die, dull heart, for she whose mournful words Made you a living spirit has passed away And left you but a ball of passionate dust. And you, proud earth and plumy sea, fade out! For you may hear no more her faltering feet, But are left lonely amid the clamorous war Of angels upon devils. (_He stands up; almost every one is kneeling, but it has grown so dark that only confused forms can be seen._)