In the tumult of the limbs

That dies out before ’tis day,

Heart on heart, or mouth on mouth,

All that mingling of our breath,

When love-longing is but drouth

For the things come after death?

[During the last verses DEIRDRE rises from the board and kneels at NAISI’S feet.]

DEIRDRE.

I cannot go on playing like that woman

That had but the cold blood of the sea in her veins.