King Lear's Wife; The Crier by Night; The Riding to Lithend; Midsummer-Eve Part 12

But I'll not die and leave him to her lips; Though I can never have him she shall not; For I can use this body worn to a soul To barter with that Crier of hidden things That, if he tangles him in his chill hair, Then I will follow and follow and follow and follow, Past where the imaged stars ebb past their light And turn to water under the dark world.

_She goes out into the storm, leaving the door open behind her.

Presently she is heard singing to a chant-like, ever-falling melody._

I stand in the sick night, whose hid shape is my own shape, As dazed life in the flickering hearts of old men; I think like a lean heron with bald head and frayed nape Motionlessly moulting in a flat pool of a grey fen, Whose sleep-blinked h.o.r.n.y eyes know it can ne'er moult again.

My age-long cry droops in the h.o.a.r unseen stars that shake Until their discordant rays make darkness inside the sky; My bare cry s.h.i.+vers along the slimy rushes of the drowned lake-- Weariful waters, do you hear a soul's hair tingling your veiled feet nigh?

I stand outside my keen body, yearning into you as I cry.

HIALTI, _within._ Is that the la.s.s sobbing a song in sleep?

THORGERD, _within._ The wind, the wind, and so as much as she.

BLANID, _still out of doors, singing._ Old father of many waters, can you feel my soul touching yours?

I know that to greet your calling leaves me no more any yea or nay; Yet I too am of kin with lost woods and sedgy sh.o.r.es, So come secret as your black wind and take the dark core of my heart away, Ere you beget me on death to be still-born to an unlit day.

Ohey! Ohey! Ohohey!

THE VOICE. Ohohey! Ohey!

HIALTI, _within._ Is there a woman's voice inside the wind?

THORGERD, _within._ ... the unclean Crier croaking ... cover your ears ...

_BLANID re-enters the house hurriedly; she shuts and bolts the door, hardly knowing what she does; she falls on her knees with her back to the door, breathing quickly and hard, and swaying backward and forward, her face hid in her hands._

_Again and again a terrible blast of wind strains at the unyielding door._

THE VOICE, _close at hand._ Open, open; I cannot open; open.

I cannot come to you unless you open.

BLANID, _muttering behind her hands._ I will not go ... I can do nothing else ...

It shall not enter ... O, it is in my heart ...

_She totters fearfully to the door, after many hesitant backward glances, and opens it slowly and as if she had never known how to open it. She reels against the wall and stands there motionlessly, clutching it with flat hands and outspread arms, as a stooping figure swathed in a rain-coloured, rain-soaked cloak and deep hood enters. Wisps of white hair flutter in the mouth of the hood, and one flicker of the fire-light shows in its depths a soft, shrunken, beardless face with an almost lipless, sunken mouth._

THIS OLD STRANGE MAN, _speaking always in a low, even, mournful voice._ A spirit calling in an old, old tongue Forgotten in lost graves in lonesome places; A spirit huddled in an old, old heart Like a blind crone crouched o'er a long-dead fire; A spirit shrinking in the old, old hills, Dreading to step down water or hollow night: Some seek me dreaming one last hope of joy; Some have been made too wise by too much joy And seek me longing for deeper misery, Knowing that joy is weary in unending, Changeless and one and easy in low perfection, While misery has as many shapes as evil That all must learn, and is made new for ever By fear of pain desired for love of pa.s.sion; But feel, O you who call me through the night, I bring you neither joy nor misery But only rest so slow and sad and sodden You will not know of it--you shall only rest And lose your soul in my soul evermore.

_Sounds of heavy breathing are heard from the sleeping-chamber during his speaking. He is continually reaching to BLANID with his m.u.f.fled, unseen hands, but she holds them from her as continually._

BLANID, _always in an eager, suppressed voice._ I have known joy--I know not what it was, Mead-fumes that filled me cooling to one drop; I have known misery--a self-numbed sting That showed me but another joy to lose; These were too small, I will have only rest, And lose my soul in your soul evermore.

But if I die into your drooping limbs I must be mingled there with him I love; You may not reach him by your h.o.a.ry crying, But raise some human wail for help and light And he will come and I must follow him Past where the imaged moon shakes like a soul Pausing in death between two unknown worlds.

THE OLD MAN.

A sign, a plighting, and I do your will.

BLANID, _winding her arms about his arms from one side, so that he cannot touch her, and burying her face in his hood._ Kisses. 'Hast drained my soul's blood in each kiss.

THE OLD MAN.

I go, I go; make me not come again, For I am in you, you must melt to me Past where the imaged dark shuts bending lovers'

Close, unseen-imaged faces within life....

_Keeping his face turned toward BLANID, he recedes to the door, where he ceases to be seen in the wind that scurries past._

THE VOICE, _immediately and far away._ Help; help; the marsh-lights 'wilder us! A light!

_BLANID shuts the door. The fire has now sunk so low that as she crosses the house she is only visible in the half-dark as a dim shape. She pauses by the hearth._

BLANID.

Nay, but I touch toward my joy at last, And Christ and all His Saints go out like candles When ma.s.s is said and the priest's cup is wiped....

THE VOICE.

The water laps our waists! Help, help! A light!

BLANID, _running to the sleeping-chamber door._ Master, I hear a calling....

_After an interval she strikes the door, crying loudly._

Master! Master!

HIALTI, _within._ Has the flood washed into the s.h.i.+ppon?

BLANID. Nay; There is a pitiful shrieking in the dark.

HIALTI, _within._ It is the Crier; break sleep no more for that.

THORGERD, _within._ 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 G.o.d, 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._