Stories of Red Hanrahan eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 45 pages of information about Stories of Red Hanrahan.

‘Tell me who are those that have passed by,’ said Hanrahan.

‘Those that passed first,’ the woman said, ’are the lovers that had the greatest name in the old times, Blanad and Deirdre and Grania and their dear comrades, and a great many that are not so well known but are as well loved.  And because it was not only the blossom of youth they were looking for in one another, but the beauty that is as lasting as the night and the stars, the night and the stars hold them for ever from the warring and the perishing, in spite of the wars and the bitterness their love brought into the world.  And those that came next,’ she said, ’and that still breathe the sweet air and have the mirrors in their hearts, are not put in songs by the poets, because they sought only to triumph one over the other, and so to prove their strength and beauty, and out of this they made a kind of love.  And as to the women with shadow-bodies, they desired neither to triumph nor to love but only to be loved, and there is no blood in their hearts or in their bodies until it flows through them from a kiss, and their life is but for a moment.  All these are unhappy, but I am the unhappiest of all, for I am Dervadilla, and this is Dermot, and it was our sin brought the Norman into Ireland.  And the curses of all the generations are upon us, and none are punished as we are punished.  It was but the blossom of the man and of the woman we loved in one another, the dying beauty of the dust and not the everlasting beauty.  When we died there was no lasting unbreakable quiet about us, and the bitterness of the battles we brought into Ireland turned to our own punishment.  We go wandering together for ever, but Dermot that was my lover sees me always as a body that has been a long time in the ground, and I know that is the way he sees me.  Ask me more, ask me more, for all the years have left their wisdom in my heart, and no one has listened to me for seven hundred years.’

A great terror had fallen upon Hanrahan, and lifting his arms above his head he screamed out loud three times, and the cattle in the valley lifted their heads and lowed, and the birds in the wood at the edge of the mountain awaked out of their sleep and fluttered through the trembling leaves.  But a little below the edge of the rock, the troop of rose leaves still fluttered in the air, for the gateway of Eternity had opened and shut again in one beat of the heart.

THE DEATH OF HANRAHAN.

Hanrahan, that was never long in one place, was back again among the villages that are at the foot of Slieve Echtge, Illeton and Scalp and Ballylee, stopping sometimes in one house and sometimes in another, and finding a welcome in every place for the sake of the old times and of his poetry and his learning.  There was some silver and some copper money in the little leather bag under his coat, but it was seldom he needed to take anything from it, for it was little he used,

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Stories of Red Hanrahan from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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