The Collected Works in Verse and Prose of William Butler Yeats, Vol. 7 (of 8): The Secret Rose. Rosa Alchemica. The Tables of the Law. The Adoration of the Magi. John Sherman and DhoyaYeats, W. B. (William Butler)
General
The Collected Works in Verse and Prose of William Butler Yeats, Vol. 7 (of 8): The Secret Rose. Rosa Alchemica. The Tables of the Law. The Adoration of the Magi. John Sherman and Dhoya
Yeats, W. B. (William Butler)
English literature -- Irish authors
In a moment the troopers were gone, and before many moments they had
splashed across the river at what is now called Buckley’s Ford, and
plunged into the woods. They followed a beaten track that wound along
the northern bank of the river. The boughs of the birch and quicken
trees mingled above, and hid the cloudy moonlight, leaving the pathway
in almost complete darkness. They rode at a rapid trot, now chatting
together, now watching some stray weasel or rabbit scuttling away
in the darkness. Gradually, as the gloom and silence of the woods
oppressed them, they drew closer together, and began to talk rapidly;
they were old comrades and knew each other’s lives. One was married,
and told how glad his wife would be to see him return safe from this
harebrained expedition against the White Friars, and to hear how
fortune had made amends for rashness. The oldest of the five, whose
wife was dead, spoke of a flagon of wine which awaited him upon an
upper shelf; while a third, who was the youngest, had a sweetheart
watching for his return, and he rode a little way before the others,
not talking at all. Suddenly the young man stopped, and they saw that
his horse was trembling. ‘I saw something,’ he said, ‘and yet I do not
know but it may have been one of the shadows. It looked like a great
worm with a silver crown upon his head.’ One of the five put his hand
up to his forehead as if about to cross himself, but remembering that
he had changed his religion he put it down, and said: ‘I am certain
it was but a shadow, for there are a great many about us, and of very
strange kinds.’ Then they rode on in silence. It had been raining in
the earlier part of the day, and the drops fell from the branches,
wetting their hair and their shoulders. In a little they began to talk
again. They had been in many battles against many a rebel together,
and now told each other over again the story of their wounds, and
so awakened in their hearts the strongest of all fellowships, the
fellowship of the sword, and half forgot the terrible solitude of the
woods.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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