(Shawn tries to approach her and cannot.)

Maurteen.  Look, look! 
There something stops him—­look how he moves his hands
As though he rubbed them on a wall of glass!

Father hart.  I will confront this mighty spirit alone. 
Be not afraid, the Father is with us,
The Holy Martyrs and the Innocents,
The adoring Magi in their coats of mail,
And He who died and rose on the third day
And all the nine angelic hierarchies.

(The child kneels upon the settle beside Mary and puts her arms about her.)

Cry, daughter, to the Angels and the Saints.

The child.  You shall go with me, newly-married bride,

And gaze upon a merrier multitude. 
White-armed Nuala, Aengus of the Birds,
Feacra of the hurtling foam, and him
Who is the ruler of the Western Host,
Finvarra, and their Land of Heart’s Desire,
Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood,
But joy is wisdom, Time an endless song. 
I kiss you and the world begins to fade.

Shawn.  Awake out of that trance—­and cover up
Your eyes and ears.

Father hart.  She must both look and listen,
For only the soul’s choice can save her now. 
Come over to me, daughter; stand beside me;
Think of this house and of your duties in it.

The child.  Stay and come with me, newly-married bride,
For if you hear him you grow like the rest;
Bear children, cook, and bend above the churn,
And wrangle over butter, fowl, and eggs,
Until at last, grown old and bitter of tongue,
You’re crouching there and shivering at the grave.

Father hart.  Daughter, I point you out the way to Heaven.

The child.  But I can lead you, newly-married bride,
Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,
Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,
Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue,
And where kind tongues bring no captivity;
For we are but obedient to the thoughts
That drift into the mind at a wink of the eye.

Father hart. .  By the dear Name of the One crucified,
I bid you, Mary Bruin, come to me.

The child.  I keep you in the name of your own heart.

Father hart.  It is because I put away the crucifix
That I am nothing, and my power is nothing,
I’ll bring it here again.

Maurteen (clinging to him) No!

Bridget.  Do not leave us.

Father hart.  O, let me go before it is too late;
It is my sin alone that brought it all.

(Singing outside.)

The child.  I hear them sing, “Come, newly-married bride,
Come, to the woods and waters and pale lights.”

Mary.  I will go with you.

Father hart.  She is lost, alas!