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 — John Shaqi
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
‘And I will only tell my message,’ said the other, flinging the saddle
on the ground, ‘in the corner of the chimney with a noggin in my hand,
and a jug of the Brew of the Little Pot beside me, for though I am
ragged and empty, my forebears were well clothed and full until their
house was burnt and their cattle harried seven centuries ago by the
Dillons, whom I shall yet see on the hob of hell, and they screeching’;
and while he spoke the little eyes gleamed and the thin hands clenched.
Costello led him into the great rush-strewn hall, where were none of
the comforts which had begun to grow common among the gentry, but a
feudal gauntness and bareness, and pointed to the bench in the great
chimney; and when he had sat down, filled up a horn noggin and set it
on the bench beside him, and set a great black jack of leather beside
the noggin, and lit a torch that slanted out from a ring in the wall,
his hands trembling the while; and then turned towards him and said:
‘Will Dermott’s daughter come to me, Duallach, son of Daly?’
‘Dermott’s daughter will not come to you, for her father has set women
to watch her, but she bid me tell you that this day sennight will be
the eve of St. John and the night of her betrothal to Namara of the
Lake, and she would have you there that, when they bid her drink to him
she loves best, as the way is, she may drink to you, Tumaus Costello,
and let all know where her heart is, and how little of gladness is in
her marriage; and I myself bid you go with good men about you, for I
saw the horse-thieves with my own eyes, and they dancing the “Blue
Pigeon” in the air.’ And then he held the now empty noggin towards
Costello, his hand closing round it like the claw of a bird, and cried:
‘Fill my noggin again, for I would the day had come when all the water
in the world is to shrink into a periwinkle-shell, that I might drink
nothing but Poteen.’
Finding that Costello made no reply, but sat in a dream, he burst out:
‘Fill my noggin, I tell you, for no Costello is so great in the world
that he should not wait upon a Daly, even though the Daly travel the
road with his pipes and the Costello have a bare hill, an empty house,
a horse, a herd of goats, and a handful of cows.’
‘Praise the Dalys if you will,’ said Costello as he filled the noggin,
‘for you have brought me a kind word from my love.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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