No wonder in that, no wonder at all in that. I never have known love but as a kiss In the mid-battle, and a difficult truce Of oil and water, candles and dark night, Hillside and hollow, the hot-footed sun, And the cold, sliding, slippery-footed moon— A brief forgiveness between opposites That have been hatreds for three times the age Of this long-’stablished ground. CONCHUBAR. Listen to me. Aoife makes war on us, and every day Our enemies grow greater and beat the walls More bitterly, and you within the walls Are every day more turbulent; and yet, When I would speak about these things, your fancy Runs as it were a swallow on the wind. [_Outside the door in the blue light of the sea mist are many old and young KINGS; amongst them are three WOMEN, two of whom carry a bowl full of fire. The third, in what follows, puts from time to time fragrant herbs into the fire so that it flickers up into brighter flame._ Look at the door and what men gather there— Old counsellors that steer the land with me, And younger kings, the dancers and harp-players That follow in your tumults, and all these Are held there by the one anxiety. Will you be bound into obedience And so make this land safe for them and theirs? You are but half a king and I but half; I need your might of hand and burning heart, And you my wisdom. CUCHULAIN. [_Going near to door._] Nestlings of a high nest, Hawks that have followed me into the air And looked upon the sun, we’ll out of this And sail upon the wind once more. This king Would have me take an oath to do his will, And having listened to his tune from morning, I will no more of it. Run to the stable And set the horses to the chariot-pole, And send a messenger to the harp-players. We’ll find a level place among the woods, And dance awhile. A YOUNG KING. Cuchulain, take the oath. There is none here that would not have you take it. CUCHULAIN. You’d have me take it? Are you of one mind? THE KINGS. All, all, all, all! A YOUNG KING. Do what the High King bids you. CONCHUBAR. There is not one but dreads this turbulence Now that they’re settled men. CUCHULAIN. Are you so changed, Or have I grown more dangerous of late? But that’s not it. I understand it all. It’s you that have changed. You’ve wives and children now, And for that reason cannot follow one That lives like a bird’s flight from tree to tree.— It’s time the years put water in my blood And drowned the wildness of it, for all’s changed, But that unchanged.—I’ll take what oath you will: The moon, the sun, the water, light, or air, I do not care how binding. CONCHUBAR.