The Woman of the Sidhe herself, The mou...

The Woman of the Sidhe herself,

The mountain witch, the unappeasable shadow.

She is always flitting upon this mountain-side,

To allure or to destroy. When she has shown

Herself to the fierce women of the hills

Under that shape they offer sacrifice

And arm for battle. There falls a curse

On all who have gazed in her unmoistened eyes;

So get you gone while you have that proud step

And confident voice, for not a man alive

Has so much luck that he can play with it.

Those that have long to live should fear her most,

The old are cursed already. That curse may be

Never to win a woman's love and keep it;

Or always to mix hatred in the love;

Or it may be that she will kill your children,

That you will find them, their throats torn and bloody,

Or you will be so maddened that you kill them

With your own hand.

For full extended monologue, please refer to clips or the script edition cited here: William Butler Yeats, At the Hawk’s Well, Public domain, 1916. Full Text.