William Yeats - The Collected Works in Verse and Prose of William Butler Yeats. Volume 2 of 8

Come nearer, nearer!

Have you some last wish?

Stoop down, for I would whisper it in your ear.
Has that wild God of yours, that was so wild
When you’d but lately taken the King’s pay,
Grown any tamer? He gave you all much trouble.

Let go my habit!

Have you persuaded him
To chirp between two dishes when the King
Sits down to table?

Let go my habit, sir!

And maybe he has learnt to sing quite softly
Because loud singing would disturb the King,
Who is sitting drowsily among his friends
After the table has been cleared. Not yet!

You did not think that hands so full of hunger
Could hold you tightly. They are not civil yet.
I’d know if you have taught him to eat bread
From the King’s hand, and perch upon his finger.
I think he perches on the King’s strong hand.
But it may be that he is still too wild.
You must not weary in your work; a king
Is often weary, and he needs a God
To be a comfort to him.

A little God,
With comfortable feathers, and bright eyes.

There will be no more dancing in our time,
For nobody will play the harp or the fiddle.
Let us away, for we cannot amend it,
And watch the hurley.

Hush! he is looking at us.

Yes, yes, go to the hurley, go to the hurley,
Go to the hurley! Gather up your skirts —
Run quickly! You can remember many love songs;
I know it by the light that’s in your eyes —
But you’ll forget them. You’re fair to look upon.
Your feet delight in dancing, and your mouths
In the slow smiling that awakens love.
The mothers that have borne you mated rightly.
They’d little ears as thirsty as your ears
For many love songs. Go to the young men.
Are not the ruddy flesh and the thin flanks
And the broad shoulders worthy of desire?
Go from me! Here is nothing for your eyes.
But it is I that am singing you away —
Singing you to the young men.

Be quiet!
Look who it is has come out of the house.
Princesses, we are for the hurling field.
Will you go there?

We will go with you, Aileen.
But we must have some words with Seanchan,
For we have come to make him eat and drink.

I will hold out the dish and cup for him
While you are speaking to him of his folly,
If you desire it, Princess.

No, Finula
Will carry him the dish and I the cup.
We’ll offer them ourselves.

They are so gracious;
The dear little Princesses are so gracious.

Although she is holding out her hand to him,
He will not kiss it.

My father bids us say
That, though he cannot have you at his table,
You may ask any other thing you like
And he will give it you. We carry you
With our own hands a dish and cup of wine.

O, look! he has taken it! He has taken it!
The dear Princesses! I have always said
That nobody could refuse them anything.

O long, soft fingers and pale finger-tips,
Well worthy to be laid in a king’s hand!
O, you have fair white hands, for it is certain
There is uncommon whiteness in these hands.
But there is something comes into my mind,
Princess. A little while before your birth,
I saw your mother sitting by the road
In a high chair; and when a leper passed,
She pointed him the way into the town.
He lifted up his hand and blessed her hand —
I saw it with my own eyes. Hold out your hands;
I will find out if they are contaminated,
For it has come into my thoughts that maybe
The King has sent me food and drink by hands
That are contaminated. I would see all your hands.
You’ve eyes of dancers; but hold out your hands,
For it may be there are none sound among you.

He has called us lepers.

He’s out of his mind,
And does not know the meaning of what he said.

There’s no sound hand among you – no sound hand.
Away with you! away with all of you!
You are all lepers! There is leprosy
Among the plates and dishes that you have carried.
And wherefore have you brought me leper’s wine?

There, there! I have given it to you again. And now
Begone, or I will give my curse to you.
You have the leper’s blessing, but you think
Maybe the bread will something lack in savour
Unless you mix my curse into the dough.

Where did I say the leprosy had come from?
I said it came out of a leper’s hand,

And that he walked the highway. But that’s folly,
For he was walking up there in the sky.
And there he is even now, with his white hand
Thrust out of the blue air, and blessing them
With leprosy.

He’s pointing at the moon
That’s coming out up yonder, and he calls it
Leprous, because the daylight whitens it.

He’s holding up his hand above them all —
King, noblemen, princesses – blessing all.
Who could imagine he’d have so much patience?

Come out of this!

If you don’t need it, sir,
May we not carry some of it away?