By the dear name of the One crucified, I bid you, Maire Bruin, come to me. THE CHILD. I keep you in the name of your own heart! [_She leaves the settle, and stooping takes up a mass of primroses and kisses them._] We have great power to-night, dear golden folk, For he took down and hid the crucifix. And my invisible brethren fill the house; I hear their footsteps going up and down. O, they shall soon rule all the hearts of men And own all lands; last night they merrily danced About his chapel belfry! [_To MAIRE_] Come away, I hear my brethren bidding us away! FATHER HART. I will go fetch the crucifix again. [_They hang about him in terror and prevent him from moving._ BRIDGET BRUIN. The enchanted flowers will kill us if you go. MAURTEEN BRUIN. They turn the flowers to little twisted flames. SHAWN BRUIN. The little twisted flames burn up the heart. THE CHILD. I hear them crying, ‘Newly-married bride, Come to the woods and waters and pale lights.’ MAIRE BRUIN. I will go with you. FATHER HART. She is lost, alas! THE CHILD [_standing by the door_]. Then, follow: but the heavy body of clay And clinging mortal hope must fall from you, For we who ride the winds, run on the waves, And dance upon the mountains, are more light Than dewdrops on the banners of the dawn. MAIRE BRUIN. Then take my soul. [_SHAWN BRUIN goes over to her._ SHAWN BRUIN. Beloved, do not leave me! Remember when I met you by the well And took your hand in mine and spoke of love. MAIRE BRUIN. Dear face! Dear voice! THE CHILD. Come, newly-married bride! MAIRE BRUIN. I always loved her world—and yet—and yet— [_Sinks into his arms._ THE CHILD [_from the door_]. White bird, white bird, come with me, little bird. MAIRE BRUIN. She calls my soul! THE CHILD. Come with me, little bird! MAIRE BRUIN. I can hear songs and dancing! SHAWN BRUIN. Stay with me! MAIRE BRUIN. I think that I would stay—and yet—and yet— THE CHILD. Come, little bird with crest of gold! MAIRE BRUIN [_very softly_]. And yet— THE CHILD. Come, little bird with silver feet! [_MAIRE dies, and THE CHILD goes._ SHAWN BRUIN. She is dead! BRIDGET BRUIN. Come from that image there: she is far away: You have thrown your arms about a drift of leaves Or bole of an ash-tree changed into her image. FATHER HART. Thus do the spirits of evil snatch their prey Almost out of the very hand of God; And day by day their power is more and more, And men and women leave old paths, for pride Comes knocking with thin knuckles on the heart. A VOICE [_singing outside_].