Love is an immoderate thing And can never be content Till it dip an ageing wing, Where some laughing element Leaps and Time’s old lanthorn dims. What’s the merit in love-play, In the tumult of the limbs That dies out before ’tis day, Heart on heart or mouth on mouth All that mingling of our breath, When love-longing is but drouth For the things that follow death? _MUSICIANS’ SONG._—III. FLORENCE FARR. First Musician. They are gone, they are gone The proud may lie by the proud. Second Musician. Though we were bidden to sing, cry nothing Loud. First Musician. They are gone, they are gone. Second Musician. Whispering were enough. First Musician. Into the secret wilderness of their love. Second Musician. A high grey cairn. What more to be said? First Musician. Eagles have gone into their cloudy bed. DEIRDRE. _MUSICIANS’ SONG._—III. SARAH ALLGOOD. FIRST MUSICIAN They are gone: They are gone; the proud may lie by the proud. SECOND MUSICIAN Though we are bidden to sing, cry nothing loud. FIRST MUSICIAN They are gone, they are gone. SECOND MUSICIAN Whispering were enough. FIRST MUSICIAN. Into the secret wilderness of their love. SECOND MUSICIAN A high grey cairn. What more is to be said? FIRST MUSICIAN Eagles have gone into their cloudy bed. SHADOWY WATERS. ARTHUR DARLEY. Sailors. And I! And I! And I! Dectora. Protect me now, gods, that my people swear by. Dectora. I will end all your magic on the instant.[C] This sword is to lie beside him in the grave. It was in all his battles. I will spread my hair, and wring my hands, and wail him bitterly, For I have heard that he was proud and laughing, blue-eyed, and a quick runner on bare feet, And that he died a thousand years ago. O! O! O! But no, that is not it. I knew him well, and while I heard him laughing they killed him at my feet. O! O! O! O! For golden-armed Iollan that I loved. Forgael. Have buried nothing by my golden arms. Forgael. And knitted mesh to mesh we grow immortal. FOOTNOTE: [C] The Violinist should time the music so as to finish when Aibric says “For everything is gone”. THE UNICORN FROM THE STARS. _IRISH TRADITIONAL AIRS._ “The Airy Bachelor.” Oh come all ye airy bachelors, come listen unto me. A sergeant caught mefowling, and he fired his gun so free ... His comrades came to his relief, And I was soon trapanned... And bound up like a wood-cock That had fallen into their hands. “Johnnie Gibbons.” 1. Oh Johnnie Gibbons my five hundred healths to you, Its long you’re away from us over the sea. 2. Oh Johnnie Gibbons its you were the prop to us, You to have left us, we’re fools put astray. “The Lion shall lose his strength.”