W. B. Yeats

Published At:2017-07-15 21:07:48

<p>One winter evening an old knight in rusted chain-armour rode slowly along the woody southern slope of Ben Bulben, watching the sun go down in crimson clouds over the sea. His horse was tired, as after a long journey, and he had upon his helmet the crest of no neighbouring lord or king, but a small rose made of rubies that glimmered every moment to a deeper crimson. His white hair fell in thin curls upon his shoulders, and its disorder added to the melancholy of his face, which was the face of one of those who have come but seldom into the world, and always for its trouble, the dreamers who must do what they dream, the doers who must dream what they do.</p> <p>After gazing a while towards the sun, he let the reins fall upon the neck of his horse, and, stretching out both arms towards the west, he said, “O Divine Rose of Intellectual Flame, let the gates of thy peace be opened to me at last!” And suddenly a loud squealing began in the woods some hundreds of yards further up the mountain side. He stopped his horse to listen, and heard behind him a sound of feet and of voices. “They are beating them to make them go into the narrow path by the gorge,” said someone, and in another moment a dozen peasants armed with short spears had come up with the knight, and stood a little apart from him, their blue caps in their hands.</p> <p>“Where do you go with the spears?” he asked; and one who seemed the leader answered: “A troop of wood-thieves came down from the hills a while ago and carried off the pigs belonging to an old man who lives by Glen Car Lough, and we turned out to go after them. Now that we know they are four times more than we are, we follow to find the way they have taken; and will presently tell our story to De Courcey, and if he will not help us, to Fitzgerald; for De Courcey and Fitzgerald have lately made a peace, and we do not know to whom we belong.”</p> <p>“But by that time,” said the knight, “the pigs will have been eaten.”</p> <p>“A dozen men cannot do more, and it was not reasonable that the whole valley should turn out and risk their lives for two, or for two dozen pigs.”</p> <p>“Can you tell me,” said the knight, “if the old man to whom the pigs belong is pious and true of heart?”</p> <p>“He is as true as another and more pious than any, for he says a prayer to a saint every morning before his breakfast.&rdquo...