The ox-goad shall reward you when dawn comes ...
Wake us once more and you shall waken often,
Ay, very often, until you dread to sleep ...
BLANID.
I heard that trailing cry like maddened fir-boughs;
Now I hear words--is there a woman's wail?
THORGERD, _within._
A woman? Let her drown.
HIALTI, _within._ I come. I come.
Reach down the lantern and light it, light it, light it.
_Standing on a stool, BLANID lifts a lantern from a nail in one of the
beams and, carrying it to the hearth, kneels there and seeks to light it
with an ember._
THORGERD, _within._
You shall not go; it is a lie of hers;
You shall not go ...
_A brief struggle in the sleeping-chamber is heard._
HIALTI, _within._ So; stand you from the door.
Get donned; make up the fire; have water boiling;
And send the wench to lie in your warm form
Ready to cherish what stiffening thing I bring.
BLANID, _to herself, lighting the lantern and smiling mischievously._
Yea, I shall cherish a stiffening thing for her.
Lantern, you are as dim as a little soul,
Yet the least soul can light a man to Heaven,
And you might lead him home; but I am like God,
Who makes souls from His aches--I will not ache,
You shall not have a soul, I suck it back.
_She extinguishes the light. HIALTI hurries in half-dressed._
HIALTI.
Canst find a rope?
BLANID, _pointing._ Behind the settle there.
_To herself._
'Tis a good rope and has two rotten strands;
'Twas meant to make good tinder on the morrow.
THE VOICE.
Help; help! A light! Come for the woman's sake!
HIALTI, _holding out his hand for the lantern._
Hearken and haste; give me the lantern--now!
BLANID.
Master, it will not light....
HIALTI. Will the storm pause?
THE VOICE.
Ohohey! Ohohey!
HIALTI.
Will that dark Crier linger? I must go.
_She catches his outstretched hand and kisses it ere, snatching it away,
he flings the house door wide open and dashes outside. Soon the sound of
his footsteps is lost in the storm._
BLANID, _relighting the lantern and starting up._
Master, Master, the light!
_Pausing and sending the lantern crashing on the hearth with both
hands._
He shall not have it!
_She stands with her hands gripping her breasts, leaning forward toward
the open door; her breathlessness is all that is heard; she stretches
her arms to the night._
BLANID.
I feel as if my long, long hands could reach
Down to the water's heart to pluck him from it.
THE VOICE.
Will no one ever come?
HIALTI, _out of doors._ I come; I am nigh.
BLANID.
Ay, he is nigh; but soon he will be far.
I dare not thus fall through the world for him.
O, I shall hear him ... do not let me hear him ...
_She throws herself on her face on the floor and, covering her head with
the strewn rushes and clasping her hands over them, lies there
moaning._
HIALTI, _far off, shouting ever more madly._
Thorgerd, Thorgerd ... your hands ... the world slips past me ...
Save ... under ... under ... under ...
Aa-h ...
_The shouting ceases suddenly at its height._
BLANID, _muffled and choking._
Her name ... her name ... why did he not think my name? ...
But she has lost him, and I kissed his hand ...
THORGERD, _rushing from the sleeping-chamber in her night-gear._
Where is the wench?... Make haste--another light:
I heard him dying. O, this prater's breath
Will blow his life out ... Kindle a light and come ...
THE VOICE.
Ohey! Ohohey! Ohey!
BLANID.
Nay! Nay! Nay! I dare not, I dare not ...
That Crier will drown me too ...
THORGERD. That is nought to me;
Get to your feet ... What, shall I seek a way
To supple you?
BLANID. O, do not hurt me again ...
He dies ... it is my deed ... I dare not come ...
THORGERD.
You are too mean to stir his life one thought;
It was the Crafty Crier--I heard that wail ...
_The fire is now wholly out, so that the cottage is absolutely dark and
nothing is visible._
THE VOICE, _near at hand._
Ohohey! Ohey!
THORGERD, _fiercely._
Where are you?... O, the Crier is heaving o'er ...
_A gust of wind and rain is heard to sweep into the cottage through the
open doorway, shifting the rustling floor-rushes as though feet touched
them. THE OLD STRANGE MAN has entered._
BLANID, _being heard to start to her feet._
There is another breathing in the house ...
He is here ... this darkness is not black enough,
The darkness at light's core alone could hide me ...
Grope for my hand--hold fast and take me home ...
_She is heard to sink to the floor again._
THE OLD STRANGE MAN.
Sister of that old race dead in the hills,
Why will you make me come to you once more?
You know you must go down a long withdrawing
To reach the unlit places of your heart,
Which are the night within my unknown eyes
Beyond all stars; so let me touch you once.
_BLANID is heard to drag her prostrate body through the rushes toward
THORGERD._
BLANID.
Mistress, I am your thrall; you will keep your own ...
I clasp your feet, I kiss your clutching feet,
I lick your feet all over with my tongue,
I will tell you somewhat that will yield a vengeance
For you to work; so do not let me go....
THE OLD MAN.
I see you, you white terror with shaking flanks,
Straining to feel me with your hard-shut eyes,
But now I need you not; not yet; not yet.
Your man is drowned and this is it who bargained
Its death for his; will you not give it to me?
THORGERD, _laughing._
I am glad he is dead; now I may only love him,
And know no more that last distress of stooping
So far from me as this at my feet must be.
No vengeancing could pay for thoughts of her:
I will not know that such can be in life,
So I will neither yield nor succour her.
_She speaks no more, nor moves._
THE OLD MAN.
Give it to me; it is mine, give it to me;
I cannot take it while it touches you.
_A silence._
BLANID.
I have slain him and I fear to go to him ...
Put out my eyes, and rope me with the dogs--
Nay, strangle me to-morrow; but save me now.
THE OLD MAN, _his voice growing fainter and fainter._
Ah, come, you daughter of an ancient earth,
Come down among the folk your heart can know,
You darling of the past, you long-dead queen.
Your aged soul is strange among these men,
As strange as it would be in Paradise;
But once I knew you ere you were begot,
And in the unchanging silence of my heart
There waits a star for you to finish it.
_A silence._
You little trembler of a dew-drop dawn,
You are as old as water that makes new dew;
And when the dew falls it runs down to peace.
The end of sorrow is in sorrow's heart
With those who loved and knew the unknown end
Of mothering you a thousand years ago.
Come, then, from her who shapes new pangs for you,
And rest and rest and rest for evermore.
_A silence._
One day you will awake and call to me;
And I shall listen for the doubting cry
Until the stars have worn the sky too thin,
And I am drowned within the light beyond....
_His voice is lost in the gradual wail of a gust of wind; then it is
heard outside and afar._
Ohey!
BLANID, _speaking at longer and longer intervals._
O, you have saved me from such evil things
As writhed like tangled tree-roots outside space
Ere God made Himself from them; and for this
My Virgin shall reach down from God's two knees
Whereon She sits, and kiss you for Her own.
My body was yours; now you have saved my soul
My soul is utterly yours to serve in living,
To clothe your soul and be your very heart
In love and soft, unconscious giving of life.
Mother, I have done evil--punish me;
Because we loved him, love me and punish me:
I have sinned, I have parted lovers--be cruel to me
And cleanse me that I may keep near you two...
Think in how many ways you can torture me;
Let me rake up the fire and heat an iron
For you to have your will upon my body--
One thigh is yet unseared ... Will you not speak? ...
I love him, I tell you ... I love him, I love him, I love him ...
I kissed his hand; do you hear? I kissed his hand--
Our Hialti's hand ... I'll make you hurt me yet,
Cold anger is shuddering down your tense thighs;
Feel, this is your foot upon my upturned face,
I lift it across my eyes, wide-open eyes--
Bear down and crush them full of eternal night ...
Speak to me now ... O, will you never speak?
You thrust me down into that Crier's bosom;
For in your heart you make me be unborn
Within a lonely place you never heard of,
Yet if I loose your feet he will return
And I must follow and follow and follow and follow
Past where my imaged thoughts repeat the world,
Till shattered waters break the imaged dream ...
You saved me once; will you undo that greatness?...
We are the tears that God wipes from His eyes:
Lone thoughts will thrust me forth--save me from them ...
Ah, but my lonely love can succour me:
Think, if I drown, 'tis to my Hialti's arms,
To cast you from his heart for ever more;
He will not even know you are forgotten ...
Sister ... Thorgerd....
_THORGERD draws in a long breath so sharply that it sounds to stab her
repeatedly._
Ay, you will hate me as you used to do--
Will you not hate me as you used to do?
I was so happy when you still could hate me....
I fear it, but you make me go.... Speak once....
_After a long silence BLANID is heard to rise and go slowly to the
door._
BLANID
Ohey! Ohey!
THE VOICE, _outside._ Ohohey!
_With a laugh of abandonment BLANID is heard to run into the night;
there is a brief silence; then one far-off, long shriek is heard from
her._
THE VOICE.
Ohey! Ohohey!
_In the cottage THORGERD is heard to fall heavily to the floor._
_The curtain descends on silence and darkness._
THE RIDING TO LITHEND
_TO EDWARD THOMAS_
_HERE in the North we speak of you,
And dream (and wish the dream were true)
That when the evening has grown late
You will appear outside our gate--
As though some Gipsy-Scholar yet
Sought this far place that men forget;
Or some tall hero still unknown,
Out of the Mabinogion,
Were seen at nightfall looking in,
Passing mysteriously to win
His earlier earth, his ancient mind,
Where man was true and life more kind
Lived with the mountains and the trees
And other steadfast presences,
Where large and simple passions gave
The insight and the peace we crave,
And he no more had nigh forgot
The old high battles he had fought._
_Ah, pause to-night outside our gate
And enter ere it is too late
To see the garden's deep on deep
And talk a little ere we sleep._
_When you were here a year ago
I told you of a glorious woe,
The ancient woe of Gunnar dead
And its proud train of men long sped,
Fit brothers to your noble thoughts;
Then, as their shouts and Gunnar's shouts
Went down once more undyingly
And the fierce saga was put by,
I told you of my old desire
To light again that bygone fire,
To body Hallgerd's ruinous
Great hair and wrangling mouth for us,
And hear her voice deny again
That hair to Gunnar in his pain._
_Because your heart could understand
The hopes of their primeval land,
The hearts of dim heroic forms
Made clear by tenderness and storms,
You caught my glow and urged me on;
So now the tale is once more done
I turn to you, I bring my play,
Longing, O friend, to hear you say
I have not dwarfed those olden things
Nor tarnisht by my furbishings._
_I bring my play, I turn to you
And wish it might to-night be true
That you would seek this old small house
Twixt laurel boughs and apple boughs;
Then I would give it, bravely manned,
To you, and with my play my hand._
30 JUNE 1908.
I. M.
2ND LIEUT. PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS
244th Siege Battery, Royal Garrison Artillery;
killed at a forward observation post in the
battle of Arras, on Easter Monday,
April 9th, 1917.
PERSONS:
GUNNAR HAMUNDSSON.
HALLGERD LONGCOAT, his wife.
RANNVEIG, his mother.
ODDNY, ASTRID, and STEINVOR, Hallgerd's house-women.
ORMILD, a woman thrall.
BIARTEY, JOFRID, and GUDFINN, beggar-women.
GIZUR THE WHITE, MORD VALGARDSSON, THORGRIM
THE EASTERLING, THORBRAND THORLEIKSSON
and ASBRAND his brother, AUNUND,
THORGEIR and HROALD, riders.
Many other Riders and voices of Riders
In Iceland, A.D. 990.
THE RIDING TO LITHEND
_The scene is the hall of Gunnar's house at Lithend in South Iceland.
The portion shewn is set on the stage diagonally, so that to the right
one end is seen while, from the rear corner of this, one side runs down
almost to the left front._
_The side wall is low and wainscotted with carved panelling on which
hang weapons, shields, and coats of mail. In one place a panel slid
aside shews a shut bed._
_In front of the panelling are two long benches with a carved high-seat
between them. Across the end of the hall are similar panellings and the
seats, with corresponding tables, of the women's dais; behind these and
in the gable wall is a high narrow door with a rounded top._
_A timber roof slopes down to the side wall and is upheld by cross-beams
and two rows of tall pillars which make a rather narrow nave of the
centre of the hall. One of these rows runs parallel to the side wall,
the pair of pillars before the high-seat being carved and ended with
images; of the other row only two pillars are visible at the extreme
right._
_Within this nave is the space for the hearths; but the only hearth
visible is the one near the women's dais. In the roof above it there is
a louvre: the fire glows and no smoke rises. The hall is lit everywhere
by the firelight._
_The rafters over the women's dais carry a floor at the level of the
side walls, forming an open loft which is reached by a wide ladder fixed
against the wall: a bed is seen in this loft. Low in the roof at
intervals are shuttered casements, one being above the loft: all the
shutters are closed._
_Near the fire a large shaggy hound is sleeping; and ORMILD, in the
undyed woollen dress of a thrall, is combing wool._
_ODDNY stands spinning at the far side; near her ASTRID and STEINVOR sit
stitching a robe which hangs between them._
ASTRID.
NIGHT is a Winter long: and evening falls.
Night, night and Winter and the heavy snow
Burden our eyes, intrude upon our dreams,
And make of loneliness an earthly place.
ORMILD.
This bragging land of freedom that enthralls me
Is still the fastness of a secret king
Who treads the dark like snow, of old king Sleep.
He works with night, he has stolen death's tool frost
That makes the breaking wave forget to fall.
ASTRID.
Best mind thy comb-pot and forget our king
Before the Longcoat helps at thy awaking....
I like not this forsaken quiet house.
The house-men out at harvest in the Isles
Never return. Perhaps they went but now,
Yet I am sore with fearing and expecting
Because they do not come. They will not come.
I like not this forsaken quiet house,
This late last harvest, and night creeping in.
ODDNY.
I like not dwelling in an outlaw's house.
Snow shall be heavier upon some eyes
Than you can tell of--ay, and unseen earth
Shall keep that snow from filling those poor eyes.
This void house is more void by brooding things
That do not happen than by absent men.
Sometimes when I awaken in the night
My throbbing ears are mocking me with rumours
Of crackling beams, beams falling, and loud flames.
ASTRID, _pointing to the weapons by the high-seat._
The bill that Gunnar won in a far sea-fight
Sings inwardly when battle impends; as a harp
Replies to the wind thus answers it to fierceness,
So tense its nature is and the spell of its welding;
Then trust ye well that while the bill is silent
No danger thickens, for Gunnar dies not singly.
STEINVOR.
But women are let forth free when men go burning?
ODDNY.
Fire is a hurrying thing, and fire by night
Can see its way better than men see theirs.
ASTRID.
The land will not be nobler or more holpen
If Gunnar burns and we go forth unsinged.
Why will he break the atonement that was set?
That wise old Njal who has the second sight
Foretold his death if he should slay twice over
In the same kin or break the atonement set:
Yet has he done these things and will not care.
Kolskegg, who kept his back in famous fights,
Sailed long ago and far away from us
Because that doom is on him for the slayings;
Yet Gunnar bides although that doom is on him
And he is outlawed by defiance of doom.
STEINVOR.
Gunnar has seen his death: he is spoken for.
He would not sail because, when he rode down
Unto the ship, his horse stumbled and threw him,
His face toward the Lithe and his own fields.
Olaf the Peacock bade him be with him
In his new mighty house so carven and bright,
And leave this house to Rannveig and his sons:
He said that would be well, yet never goes.
Is he not thinking death would ride with him?
Did not Njal offer to send his sons,
Skarphedin ugly and brave and Hauskuld with him,
To hold this house with Gunnar, who refused them
Saying he would not lead young men to death?
I tell you Gunnar is done.... His fetch is out.
ODDNY.
Nay, he's been topmost in so many fights
That he believes he shall fight on untouched.
STEINVOR.
He rides to motes and Things before his foes.
He has sent his sons harvesting in the Isles.
He takes deliberate heed of death--to meet it,
Like those whom Odin needs. He is fey, I tell you--
And if we are past the foolish ardour of girls
For heroisms and profitless loftiness
We shall get gone when bedtime clears the house.
'Tis much to have to be a hero's wife,
And I shall wonder if Hallgerd cares about it:
Yet she may kindle to it ere my heart quickens.
I tell you, women, we have no duty here:
Let us get gone to-night while there is time,
And find new harbouring ere the laggard dawn,
For death is making narrowing passages
About this hushed and terrifying house.
_RANNVEIG, an old wimpled woman, enters as if from a door at the unseen
end of the hall._
ASTRID.
He is so great and manly, our master Gunnar,
There are not many ready to meet his weapons:
And so there may not be much need of weapons.
He is so noble and clear, so swift and tender,
So much of Iceland's fame in foreign places,
That too many love him, too many honour him
To let him die, lest the most gleaming glory
Of our grey country should be there put out.
RANNVEIG.
My son has enemies, girl, enemies,
Who will not lose the joy of hurting him.
This little land is no more than a lair
That holds too many fiercenesses too straitly,
And no man will refuse the rapture of killing
When outlawry has made it cheap and righteous.
So long as any one perceives he knows
A bare place for a weapon on my son
His hand shall twitch to fit a weapon in.
Indeed he shall lose nothing but his life
Because a woman is made so evil fair,
Wasteful and white and proud in harmful acts.
I lose two sons when Gunnar's eyes are still,
For then will Kolskegg never more turn home....
If Gunnar would but sail three years would pass;
Only three years of banishment said the doom--
So few, so few, for I can last ten years
With this unshrunken body and steady heart.
(_To ORMILD_)
Have I sat down in comfort by the fire
And waited to be told the thing I knew?
Have any men come home to the young women,
Thinking old women do not need to hear,
That you can play at being a bower-maid
In a long gown although no beasts are foddered?
Up, lass, and get thy coats about thy knees,
For we must cleanse the byre and heap the midden
Before the master knows--or he will go,
And there is peril for him in every darkness.
ORMILD, _tucking up her skirts._
Then are we out of peril in the darkness?
We should do better to nail up the doors
Each night and all night long and sleep through it,
Giving the cattle meat and straw by day.
ODDNY.
Ay, and the hungry cattle should sing us to sleep.
_The others laugh. ORMILD goes out to the left; RANNVEIG is following
her, but pauses at the sound of a voice._
HALLGERD, _beyond the door of the women's dais._
Dead men have told me I was better than fair,
And for my face welcomed the danger of me:
Then am I spent?
_She enters angrily, looking backward through the doorway._
Must I shut fast my doors
And hide myself? Must I wear up the rags
Of mortal perished beauty and be old?
Or is there power left upon my mouth
Like colour, and lilting of ruin in my eyes?
Am I still rare enough to be your mate?
Then why must I shame at feasts and bear myself
In shy ungainly ways, made flushed and conscious
By squat numb gestures of my shapeless head--
Ay, and its wagging shadow--clouted up,
Twice tangled with a bundle of hot hair,
Like a thick cot-wife's in the settling time?
There are few women in the Quarter now
Who do not wear a shapely fine-webbed coif
Stitched by dark Irish girls in Athcliath
With golden flies and pearls and glinting things:
Even my daughter lets her big locks show,
Show and half show, from a hood gentle and close
That spans her little head like her husband's hand.
GUNNAR, _entering by the same door._
I like you when you bear your head so high;
Lift but your heart as high, you could get crowned
And rule a kingdom of impossible things.
You would have moon and sun to shine together,
Snow-flakes to knit for apples on bare boughs,
Yea, love to thrive upon the terms of hate.
If I had fared abroad I should have found
In many countries many marvels for you
Though not more comeliness in peopled Romeborg
And not more haughtiness in Mickligarth
Nor craftiness in all the isles of the world,
And only golden coifs in Athcliath:
Yet you were ardent that I should not sail,
And when I could not sail you laughed out loud
And kissed me home....
HALLGERD, _who has been biting her nails._
And then ... and doubtless ... and strangely ...
And not more thriftiness in Bergthorsknoll
Where Njal saves old soft sackcloth for his wife.
O, I must sit with peasants and aged women,
And keep my head wrapped modestly and seemly;
_She turns to RANNVEIG._
I must be humble--as one who lives on others.
_She snatches off her wimple, slipping her gold circlet as she does so,
and loosens her hair._
Unless I may be hooded delicately
And use the adornment noble women use
I'll mock you with my flown young widowhood,
Letting my hair go loose past either cheek
In two bright clouds and drop beyond my bosom,
Turning the waving ends under my girdle
As young glad widows do, and as I did
Ere ever you saw me--ay, and when you found me
And met me as a king meets a queen
In the undying light of a summer night
With burning robes and glances--stirring the
heart with scarlet.
_She tucks the long ends of her hair under her girdle._
RANNVEIG.
You have cast the head-ring of the nobly nurtured,
Being eager for a bold uncovered head.
You are conversant with a widow's fancies....
Ay, you are ready with your widowhood:
Two men have had you, chilled their bosoms with you,
And trusted that they held a precious thing--
Yet your mean passionate wastefulness poured out
Their lives for joy of seeing something done with.
Cannot you wait this time? 'Twill not be long.
HALLGERD.
I am a hazardous desirable thing,
A warm unsounded peril, a flashing mischief,
A divine malice, a disquieting voice:
Thus I was shapen, and it is my pride
To nourish all the fires that mingled me.
I am not long moved, I do not mar my face,
Though men have sunk in me as in a quicksand.
Well, death is terrible. Was I not worth it?
Does not the light change on me as I breathe?
Could I not take the hearts of generations,
Walking among their dreams? O, I have might,
Although it drives me too and is not my own deed....
And Gunnar is great, or he had died long since.
It is my joy that Gunnar stays with me:
Indeed the offence is theirs who hunted him,
His banishment is not just; his wrongs increase,
His honour and his following shall increase
If he is steadfast for his blamelessness.
RANNVEIG.
Law is not justice, but the sacrifice
Of singular virtues to the dull world's ease of mind;
It measures men by the most vicious men;
It is a bargaining with vanities,
Lest too much right should make men hate each other
And hasten the last battle of all the nations.
Gunnar should have kept the atonement set,
For then those men would turn to other quarrels.
GUNNAR.
I know not why it is I must be fighting,
For ever fighting, when the slaying of men
Is a more weary and aimless thing to me
Than most men think it ... and most women too.
There is a woman here who grieves she loves me,
And she too must be fighting me for ever
With her dim ravenous unsated mind....
Ay, Hallgerd, there's that in her which desires
Men to fight on forever because she lives:
When she took form she did it like a hunger
To nibble earth's lip away until the sea
Poured down the darkness. Why then should I sail
Upon a voyage that can end but here?
She means that I shall fight until I die:
Why must she be put off by whittled years,
When none can die until his time has come?
_He turns to the hound by the fire._
Samm, drowsy friend, dost scent a prey in dreams?
Shake off thy shag of sleep and get to thy watch:
'Tis time to be our eyes till the next light.
Out, out to the yard, good Samm.
_He goes to the left, followed by the hound. In the meantime HALLGERD
has seated herself in the high-seat near the sewing-women, turning
herself away and tugging at a strand of her hair, the end of which she
bites._