King Lear's Wife; The Crier by Night; The Riding to Lithend; Midsummer-Eve Part 18

From the East, from the East we drove and the wind waved us, Over the heaths, over the barren ashes.

We are old, our eyes are old, and the light hurts us, We have skins on our eyes that part alone to the star-light.

We stumble about the night, the rocks tremble Beneath our trembling feet; black sky thickens, Breaks into clots, and lets the moon upon us.

_JOFRID joins her voice to the voices of the other two._

Far from the men who fear us, men who stone us, Hiding, hiding, flying whene'er they slumber, High on the crags we pause, over the moon-gulfs; Black clouds fall and leave us up in the moon-depths Where wind flaps our hair and cloaks like fin-webs, Ay, and our sleeves that toss with our arms and the cadence Of quavering crying among the threatening echoes.

Then we spread our cloaks and leap down the rock-stairs, Sweeping the heaths with our skirts, greying the dew-bloom, Until we feel a pool on the wide dew stretches Stilled by the moon or ruffling like breast-feathers, And, with grey sleeves cheating the sleepy herons, Squat among them, pillow us there and sleep.

But in the harder wastes we stand upright, Like splintered rain-worn boulders set to the wind In old confederacy, and rest and sleep.

_HALLGERD'S women are huddled together and clasping each other._

ODDNY.

What can these women be who sleep like horses, Standing up in the darkness.... What will they do....

GUNNAR.

Ye wail like ravens and have no human thoughts.

What do ye seek? What will ye here with us?

BIARTEY, _as all three cower suddenly._ Succour upon this terrible journeying.

We have a message for a man in the West, Sent by an old man sitting in the East.

We are spent, our feet are moving wounds, our bodies Dream of themselves and seem to trail behind us Because we went unfed down in the mountains.

Feed us and shelter us beneath your roof, And put us over the Markfleet, over the channels.

We are weak old women: we are beseeching you.

GUNNAR.

You may bide here this night, but on the morrow You shall go over, for tramping shameless women Carry too many tales from stead to stead-- And sometimes heavier gear than breath and lies.

These women will tell the mistress all I grant you; Get to the fire until she shall return.

BIARTEY.

Thou art a merciful man and we shall thank thee.

GUNNAR _goes out again to the left._

_The old women approach the young ones gradually._

Little ones, do not doubt us. Could we hurt you?

Because we are ugly must we be bewitched?

STEINVOR.

Nay, but bewitch us.

BIARTEY. Not in a litten house: Not ere the hour when night turns on itself And shakes the silence: not while ye wake together.

Sweet voice, tell us, was that verily Gunnar?

STEINVOR.

Arrh--do not touch me, unclean flyer-by-night: Have ye birds' feet to match such bat-webbed fingers?

BIARTEY.

I am only a cowed curst woman who walks with death; I will crouch here. Tell us, was it Gunnar?

ODDNY.

Yea, Gunnar surely. Is he not big enough To fit the songs about him?

BIARTEY. He is a man.

Why will his manhood urge him to be dead?

We walk about the whole old land at night, We enter many dales and many halls: And everywhere is talk of Gunnar's greatness, His slayings and his fate outside the law.

The last s.h.i.+p has not gone: why will he tarry?

ODDNY.

He chose a s.h.i.+p, but men who rode with him Say that his horse threw him upon the sh.o.r.e, His face toward the Lithe and his own fields; As he arose he trembled at what he gazed on (Although those men saw nothing pa.s.s or meet them) And said.... What said he, girls?

ASTRID. "Fair is the Lithe: So fair I never thought it was so fair.

Its corn is white, its meadows green after mowing.

I will ride home again and never leave it."

ODDNY.

'Tis an unlikely tale: he never said it.

No one could mind such things in such an hour.

Plainly he saw his fetch come down the sands, And knew he need not seek another country And take that with him to walk upon the deck In night and storm.

GUDFINN. He he he! No man speaks thus.

JOFRID.

No man, no man: he must be doomed somewhere.

BIARTEY.

Doomed and fey, my sisters.... We are too old, Yet I'd not marvel if we outlasted him.

Sisters, that is a fair fierce girl who spins....

My fair fierce girl, you could fight--but can you ride?

Would you not shout to be riding in a storm?

Ah ... h, girls learnt riding well when I was a girl, And foam rides on the breakers as I was taught....

My fair fierce girl, tell me your n.o.ble name.

ODDNY.

My name is Oddny.

BIARTEY. Oddny, when you are old Would you not be proud to be no man's purse-string, But wild and wandering and friends with the earth?

Wander with us and learn to be old yet living.

We'd win fine food with you to beg for us.

STEINVOR.

Despised, cast out, unclean, and loose men's night-bird.

ODDNY.

When I am old I shall be some man's friend, And hold him when the darkness comes....

BIARTEY.

And mumble by the fire and blink....