ps T • £$) THE WIND OVER THE WATER PHILIP MERIVALE ■<$& ^ c$0* bffr Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/windoverwater01meri THE WIND OVER THE WATER THE CONTEMPORARY SERIES UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME Laodice and Danae Play in Verse By Gordon Bottomley Images — Old and New Poems By Richard Aldington The English Tongue and Other Poems By Lezois JVcrthington Smith Five Men and Pompey Dramatic Portraits By Stephen J'inccnt Bc}:c: Horizons Poems By Robert Aid en Sanborn The Tragedy A Fantasy in Verse By Gilbert Moyle Common Men and Women Rhythmus By Harold W. Gammons The Marsh Maiden And Other Plays By Felix Gould Omar and the Rabbi Play in One Act By Frederick LcRoy Sargent The Smile of Mona Lisa Play in One Act By Jacinto Benavente The Lamp of Heaven Chinese Play in One Ac: By Mrs. L. JVorthington Smith The Death of Titian A Dramatic Fragment By Hugo -eon Hofmannsthal THE WIND OVER THE WATER BY PHILIP MERIVALE "L'oubli total est sans gravite; Mais l'oubli partiel est perfide." Boston The Four Seas Company 1920 Atf? AV The Four Seas Company All rights are expressly reserved. For rights of public per- formance, address the publishers, who are the author's agents. Copyright, 1920, by oortB Boston, Mass, U. S. A. The Four Seas Company FEE 23 1921 TO MY WIFE ... it gives some sense of power and passion In helpless impotence to try to fashion Our woe in living words, howe'er uncouth. James Thomson. PERSON : la j 7 hi An The scene of the play is laid in Iceland in the 12th century A. D. THE WIND OVER THE WATER The interior of Cormar's house. It is built of pine and walled with smooth planks. Curtains of skin hang over the window which is towards the right in the back wall, and over the door which is in the middle of that wall. Between the window and the door, at the height of a man's head, is hung a great target of white bull's hide studded with a copper hilt. By the right hand wall of the house is the hearth, on which a fire is glowing in good embers. The room is with- out any designed ornament, but is made beautiful by the incidental shapeliness of the common implements such as the spinning wheel with its little carved pine- cones, a shepherd's staff with a hook of copper, a fishing spear, two or three odd oars and the woman's copper cooking-utensils. Above the hearth, under the window lies a heavy pile of skins for a bed. The chairs and table are all of white pine and very heavy. Thora is seated by the fire spinning, and Olaf is on the floor watching her steadfastly, while Gyda, his sister, is standing in the window, gazing out through the half-withdrawn curtain at the snow; for on this early spring evening the snow is coming down heavily. [7] Olaf Now stay your wheel. You'll dim your eyes with watching it In this half-light. You promised us at dusk You would lay it by when it grew dark. Thora Is it dark? Olaf Look ! I will keep the fire-light from your eyes : Now turn and see how dark it is grown since first We all fell silent. Thora * Set it yonder then. [He takes the wheel over to the other end of the room, beyond the table.] I did not think we had so long kept silence. Olaf One might suspect you had a thing to hide So busily o'er the wheel you bent your head. Now, Gyda, sit you down, and I will tell A tale to gladden you in the red gloom. Gyda [Turning from the window.] Are you not weary, Thora ? Let us go. Thora Stay a while with me yet. I am alone. I'll light the lamp. [Gyda returns to her watch at the window.] [8] Olaf Nay, let us have the dusk. . . . Now Olaf's widow, Aud, the queen, set sail With many a red-haired Gaedhil from the Western Isles And came to Hoy — Thora Why will you tell me stories Of sea-worn islanders? Are there none beside For you to mock at, for their griefs or colour? Olaf I mock them not. I tell you how they met And drave aground the Danish ships, and bore Much gear away, and every man a mate To bear him seed in the new land they sought. Thora You know I come of that same seed. You make Laughter so easily out of grievous things. Why do you say you love me ? Olaf I had thought To make you proud and merry with a tale Of the great Gaedhil that came with Aud whom she Loved — the fair queen, and slew for her love's sake Because his blue eyes wandered from her face And dwelt more lovingly — Thora Oh! tell not me Of the red Gaedhils ! Had the sea swallowed them [9] And frozen up their blue eyes and made weed Of their red hair there had been rest for us. Olaf You would not have been born ; and all my dreams Had been the formless and dull shadow of life : But now they are a sharp and glittering sword Forged and shaped out and tempered by my thought Of you. Thora You must not dream. You must ungird This sword, for fear its edge be turned on you. Olaf Gyda hath said the same ! And they all say That I am a fool. They call me by his name, him Who dreamed of meanings in the stars and moon And saw in the sheaves interpretable signs. They mock me for a fool that's not content With the laborious day, but seeketh stuff To spin and weave and labour over in sleep. Thora You must not fashion armour for yourself Lest being a most unskilful smith you leave A crevice for the arrows to find out, Or it be found too heavy for your limbs And on a day betray you to the foe. Olaf I could not live if I should tear from me The half-wrought web I am weaving. Do you bid me Cast it aside? fiol Thora Yes, for I love you well. You are gentle and in my trouble comfort me. But for your own sake I would have you change. Grow hard to men and women, and your heart Will become strong and feel no pain itself. Olaf Do you say that? Whence are your sorrows then If only out of visions grief be born? Your eyes are not yet visionless, albeit You bid me shut mine out. Nay, you yourself That give this counsel are a vision dreamed, Dwelt on by sad, impatient souls at night. My spirit is the tremulous sea that lies Under the spell of the oft-changing Moon. Thora I am older, and I know you will find out Some hidden thing within the Moon's heart laid That shall dispel the enchantment she holds now, And darken you with anger and reproach. Olaf You are not older than the soul in me. The ignorant sea, which is so old, remains Enchanted still ; and so must men abide For ever under the spell of woman's love, Although she seek herself to lift the veil. Gyda [Coming down to them] Come, let us go. [«] Olaf Give me your hand to kiss. [She gives him both hands.] You are no queen with soft delightful hands That have wrought nothing but old songs in silk. These are slave's hands. They shall be a sign Like His, who died the slave's death long ago, The sign and witness of the Truth. Gyda Come now. Let us go home. The snow is over, and all The earth is sheeted. Olaf [At the window.] Why, what night is this That the stars should seem mystical anew And the Earth with a new silver spell enchanted? It is a gleaming mirror just unveiled That has been curtained many years, a pool We have found the first time on a familiar road. [He goes to the door, opens it and stands outside.] What saint's night is it? Thora [Unconsciously speaking aloud, but so that only Gyda hears. ] It is my wedding-night. I have been ten years married. Gyda Little friend, I can well see for what white sacrament God spread the world to-night. [12] Wine, look you! Thora [Hysterically. ] And I have bought Gyda Kiss me. You are beautiful. Thora Nay, I am pale and careful-eyed. Gyda I'll ask Cormar — Thora Nay, vex him not with talk of me. Gyda Vex him? Thora Ah yes, he deems me fair enough. You would do wrong to think him careless of me. He loves me well. But then ten years will work A change — do you not think it must — some change ?- In any woman, fair though she may be. And if you mark it not, yet he will see it Who hath kept that beauty in his house so long. It is a golden bowl from which he hath drunk So oft that he forgets how fair it is ; For beauty will become common and stale Unto the eye that hath been long close to it. I have been ten years learning this. [13] Gyda Ten years ! A thousand shall not mar your loveliness. That is eternal by the influences Of great deeds by the songs men sing of them. Thora Ten years is long. [Gyda takes her hands. ] Gyda Where got you this new ring ? Thora Why, Cormar found it lying yesterday In the black furrow, and gave it me to-day. No — do not take it. [She withdraws her hand and puts it in her bosom.] Gyda There is writing on it. Thora We do not know the tongue. Olaf [Without] Oh ! I can see All manner of signs in heaven. There is a new Message — I know not what, but the dark pines Stretch silver heads up on their great black stems, The pines are heroes come out of long ships From a far country to a stranger land, And stretching up their silvery shields to heaven They shout to awake the sleepy, sorrowing world. [14] Gyda [To Thora.] Do you not know the burthen ? Thora Cormar says The character is strange even to the priest, Who said it was a heathen ornament With an idolatrous prayer. And I am afraid, Lest in it indeed a mystery be Most perilous, a spell perhaps to plague The folk on earth for ever. Olaf [Without.] The bent Moon Is like a flail swung in the grasp of God. And from His threshing-floor the scattered stars Leap, and are winnowed out by the four winds. And unto us the grain He measureth That we may fill our bosoms and have bread For evermore. Gyda The moonlight crazes him. We will go home. Thora The road is bright for you. [Gyda goes out and joins Olaf; the two can be seen passing the window together, against the snow. Thora follows to the door and stands looking after them. ] [15] Thora I hoped he would come earlier in to-night, This night, I thought, if he remembered it : At least to-night. I should not ask another, Since it is lonely here for him. The snow- Perhaps, — ay, it is deep : that hath delayed him. He will be wet up to the thighs no doubt. I'll make the fire up brighter. [She shuts the door and draws the curtain over the window, and carries logs to the hearth.] How the ring Cuts round my finger when I. lift the logs. They are heavy ; but this other cuts me not Like the new copper thing. [She examines it.] If I but knew The rune that's written on it [She begins to prepare supper.] I would now Use it to change the manner of my days, To make his recollection dear, perhaps Recover something of the beauty I left In long, unvisited corners of our life. [#3; this time she has set broth to boil on the hearth, and laid out bread on the table.] But I must hide the wine. I'll bring it out For a surprise to please him. There it's best. [16] [She hides it after some hesitation behind the spinning- wheel in the far corner of the room. ] He would not look for wine to come from there. I wonder if I prayed when I bought that ! Deep in my heart it may be, and unknown To my own thought. Would God hear pray'rs like that? What bounty is in wine that we should drink it At God's guest-table? I'll ask Olaf this. But if it kindle in Cormar that old love, Like twain that go back hand in hand, we two Shall wander over the ways we have trod so far, And heal with visionary steps the wounds We had in walking down the sad long years. [She has been busy still, but now pauses with her hands empty, leaning on the table. ] But he'll not come with me. Cormar [Without.] Thora! A- Ah! [He gives a familiar call.] Thora [Returning the cry.] A — Ah! I am coming, Cormar. [She hastens to open the door; he is standing, with the horses' bridles in his hand, a great fair man with red hair and beard. ] What has happened ? How late you are ! [17] Cor mar It is not midnight yet. Bring me a rush-light out : the stable-lantern Is empty, and the wick has smouldered away. Thora I think there are no rush-lights. Cormar Let me look. [He pushes past her, without violence, but carelessly, into the room. She takes his place at the horses' heads. ] Did you not go to-day to market? Thora Yes. Cormar [After searching the room.] Is there no oil at least? Thora [Impatiently at last.] Why did not you Bethink yourself to get it? — Could not you For once remember? Must I think and do Everything, that you may be free to do Nothing ? [18] CORMAR [ Tranquilly. ] I'll house them in the dark then. [He goes towards the door.] Thora Cormar, Cormar! Cormar They are steaming in the cold. Thora I am sorry, Cormar. You are so patient. Cormar Nay, now, do not weep. Thora But you have not remembered — Cormar What? Thora To-day — Our wedding-day. Cormar This snow will ruin all ! Who sends the snow in spring ? Thora Ah, Cormar! [19] CORMAR Why, It is as cold as any winter's night. Thora You do not hear me. Cormar Why will you speak of it? 'Tis idle to remember a day dead. Thora How is it dead ? I did not let it die. Who slew it then? Cormar Why it is past and we Shall come not on it in our way to death. Why would you fix it in your mind, to weep When it comes round, a ghost, a shadow, a dream, A lying beggar that prevails on you With his foot-weariness to help him live ? Thora Do I look now as then I was ? Cormar I'll go And put the horses in. While I am gone Make supper ready. Thora Yes, you have forgotten. Will you speak out and say you are weary of me? [20] CORMAR I will speak out the truth. I know not how We are come to this : why you that are beautiful Should fail me now, that were sufficient once. I caught you up, a laughing girl, a spirit, Ay, in mid-laughter and defiant joy Took you, in proud and scornful maidenhood, That you should learn humility and grief, A woman's portion being grown, — and man's. And you came with me into the long ship And many days sailed the unstable sea, Watching the light foam and the swollen wave, And wide-spread wings of the free albatross. Then we were joyous, we were free as they. It was the season in our hearts, no more. Then were none like us : amid the armed And bearded warriors I stood like a king, And you were peerless among women-folk. Thora Ah ! You remember all. Cormar It is remembrance That saps the strength of all intent to come, And makes us doubtful in our purposes. Remembrance and regret are man and wife, And much I fear God can not sever them. Dry your eyes ; we are weary both. Thora Nay, I am not Crying. [21] CORMAR Come, that is well then. Thora [Shyly.] Cormar, I bought This, in the morning. [She brings out the wine.] It is southern wine Brought hither in the foreign ship, and richer Than our own vintages. CORMAR Why, if our land Will bear us only wheat we may rejoice. But this year is a poor one, and I fear The eaters of the grass alone will reap. You had done better to have bought the oil. Thora Yes. CORMAR Now I must make haste. Thora But you'll not go In darkness ? Take out this lamp in your hand. Cormar Will you not fear to sit alone in the dark? Thora The fire is bright enough : you'll not be far : And you more need the light than I do, Cormar. [22] Cor mar [Taking the lamp.] I had the horses rough-shod in the morning. [Going out.] Now get your supper ready. Thora He hath said I am beautiful. He does not say I am old. He does not turn from me because I am grey. There is some stronger thing at work than Time, Deeper than change which passeth over us. [A figure coming into sight from the left looks in at the window for an instant and returns to the left again. ] I am amazed because there is nothing here I can perceive to alter or remove, Naught that might seem to anger him, and naught That is desirable to him. [There is a knock at the door.] Who knocks ? Was it within myself ? Can one approach So stealthily, and mingle with the thought That's deepest buried in another's soul? [23] [The knocking is repeated. She opens the door and discovers a woman standing there, dressed in rich, white raiment. It is an Angel of God in the like- ness of a woman.] Angel You have been long, but now you will let me in. Thora What leads you hither, wandering at this hour ? Angel Will you not let me in? Thora Yes, do not stand In the cold, doubtfully. Come by the fire. [She brings her in.] Angel [Sitting by the fire.] How warm your hearth is ! Why do you sit alone Without a lamp? Thora The fire is good : it gives Light enough for my purpose, and my husband Will bring me back the lamp in a little while. Angel Hath he taken the light from you ? [24] Thora Nay of myself I gave it to him : there are so many ways That men have need of light more than we women. You see I can make his supper and prepare His bed in a half-light : I need no more. Here's milk and bread. Angel Is it not his ? Thora There's more. But though I would spare nothing of my own I have set by wine for him, and of that wine I dare not give you. Yet drink this, I pray you ! — I am not inhospitable. [She kneels and stirs the fire.] Angel Do you not Wonder who I may be. Thora Oft in the snow A stranger that has lost the road will knock And stay with us till morning. Angel Let me stay. Thora [Rising and looking towards the door.] I know not how to answer you : it is late, [25] And the snow's deep : and yet to-night — to-night Is not as other nights, but set apart From all the other nights in the long year. But if you had come to-morrow — or yesterday ! — Axgel I could not choose but journey on this day : I have been but three days in the land. Thora You came In the strange ship out of the south, it may be? Axgel It is so. What is this night ? Thora I'd not fill Your ears with mine own story. This is all, It is my wedding night : — only ten years — I'll set it down. [She takes the bowl from her.] Angel That is a heavy ring. Thora [Letting her examine it.] My husband gave it me. Angel That is my ring. I lost it in the fields, two days ago. [26] Thora When were you in our fields ? Angel The day we landed. Thora My husband found it in the furrow, and gave it To me. Angel It is my ring, and here is writ — s c$ou, y.atva Travxa Jtotw Thora Can you decipher it ? It is some charm That wedded with the mystic power of rings Will bind and keep the soul ? Is it not a charm ? Angel It is to set the imprisoned spirit free. Thora What should that signify? Angel It is the day To hear it and take comfort in the truth — "Lo, I make all things new !" Thora Give it me back. There can be no change in eternity. No ring can bear a legend that cries out "Change" ! But to marriage and eternal love And fellowship the ring exhorteth us. Angel Even as this other, that bears no legend? [27] Thora Yes, yes ! Ah ! give it me ! He loves me well ! He is a man, and there be many needs In which I am comfortless and of no help To him. But this you read, he would but scorn. Give it me back. Angel [Taking her outsteretched hand.] Why, it has worn a mark Already on your finger — in two days. How should you wear it for ten years? Thora As this I have worn ten years, and yet it chafes me not. My finger is not red, but clear and white Beneath it. Angel And your soul? Thora Do you not think I left my mother's house with something learned Of her, and something of my self divined, That in my own house should be laid on me A greater burden than my maiden tasks ? Angel You have no children. Thora Yet without them, life Is full of cares and no light holiday. I am content to live so. [28] Angel You have tears In your eyes even now. Thora May I not weep Without a cause? I am often left alone, And so imagine cause for grief. I have lost A way of looking up under the eyes, Or a girl's trick of throwing back the head — Something I shall recover — oh ! be sure ! And so my husband leaves me alone some while. It is but that he feels yet young, I know, That he forgets I am older now than he. But one day he'll remember and be turned To look on me with reasonable eyes, Who have grown old beside him. My hair's grey Over the temples, but he is red. Angel No change Upon your body hath struck him. Thora Whence are you ? What are you that blow on me like the wind Which ruffles the still, solitary pool? The water that was sad, and yet at peace, You have stirred up. Angel Ere they be choked with weed I stir the waters ; for within their depth Is healing for the sorrow of the world. [29] [She gives him the ring. Cormar re-enters with the lamp, so that the room grows light. He is covered with snow.] Cormar The snow is falling thick again. Thora Look, Cormar, Here is a stranger whom I have taken in. Cormar It is an ill night to be lost abroad. She is welcome. Angel I am loth to trouble you, So fit your dwelling seems for weary feet, So warm your welcome. Cormar There's none other near. Thora Save Olaf's. Cormar Where hath he to lodge a stranger ? Or what save dreams to feast them on? Angel [Rising.] I have The master's seat. You are cold, and I am warm'd Already. Cormar Sit you still. [30] Angel Nay, do you come. [He takes his chair, stretching his body before the blaze. She is very attentive to him, and he is flat- tered by her demeanour.] Cormar [As Thora takes the broth from the fire.] Come, eat and drink with us ! Thora Nay, she has supped. Cormar Will you not sit with us at table? Angel Indeed I am no longer hungry. Thora I have made All ready for you, Cormar. Cormar [Rising.] I'll not press Foo4 on you, but you shall drink wine with us. Bring the flask, Thora. Thora Will you—? [She breaks off and produces the flask.] [31] CORMAR It will keep The blood warm in you through your sleep to-night, There are three cups. Drink this. [He gives the Angel one.] It is good wine. Why do you not drink, Thora ? Thora I have lost Desire to drink. CORMAR [Turning to the Angel] You are welcome to my house. [To Thora] I'll sleep to-night in the stable on the straw. Thora [Aside to him.] She must not stay. I had thought to bid her stay But cannot in my heart find welcome for her. CORMAR She can lie by your side. Thora But you — Cormar What else? We cannot push her from the door. [32] Thora [To him intimately] Because You have forgotten, that is why you'll give Your bed up to her. Ah ! you do not think ! But if my yearning blood can claim you yet You shall not sleep this night away from me. Gyda has room and a free heart. From her I shall find shelter for the stranger here. Cormar Stay! Thora [To the Angel] I will find you shelter, friend, elsewhere. Cormar I will not have it ! Thora Ah ! But this one night ! Cormar To-morrow and yesterday are as to-day. Why do you linger over the memory Of a death-bed ten years cold ? Angel I would not take The master's bed. If you will find me shelter, I'll thank you for your pains. [33] Thoba Shall I do so, Cormar ? CORMAS [Shortly.] Our guest desires it. Angel Think no shame. Blame nor yourself, as I do blame ycu no:. It is my choice. Thcsa I shall be back again In an instant. Ee not angry. Cormar. with me. Cos MAS [S:'.dzer.]\ kissit:: her.] Take that into the darkness with you. ana come Quickly again. A goodly gift to her, which makes her gc : i Angel What a pale cheek! How cold! COSMAS They of her rate Have fair, soft skins and are most chaste of blood. Eut like sweet fruit in season they grow red .And are the sweeter for the rare delight. [34] [He sits gloomily at the table and pours out wine, which he then forgets.] Angel [After an interval of silence] You did not look for snow again ? Cor mar I look For nothing. Angel But a careful husbandman Will watch the sky. Cormar I care not what befall. Angel Will not the snow kill the young seed? Cormar It may be. But I have sown no seed this year, and wait No harvest. Angel Yet I saw you at the plough But two days since. Cormar Oh yes. Angel The day I lost A ring of copper from my finger. [35] CORMAR Yes. Each year for ever I plough and break the earth up, And turn the soil and turn it over again : But I put down no seed and reap no harvest. Angel Why then do you still labour and lead out In the bleak dawn your team, and come again So late to rest ? What make you in the fields ? Cormar Dreams, with mine idle hands on the plough-tail ! For bending so above the turned, wet Earth I get from hence and mix with men of old, And thus shake off the care hangs over the house, The sharp regret for all my good years dead. Angel What profit have you of an unsown field? What will you draw from earth to feed your life? Cormar I know not : for last year my cattle strayed, And on the hills were frozen: and my sheep Perished in the like way. Now I have none. Nor dare I venture out on the grey sea Because my boat is rotten and the sail torn. But there my heart is — out on the grey sea With aching memory among the masts That towered above the chiefs of Innisthore, The lordly harvesters of the red grain. [36] With them of old I laboured from the coast Of Innisfail to stormy Videroe, From Ulster and Morven by the Hebrides And even to the cities of the South On sunny rivers — reaping, reaping, reaping With that bright sickle you see over your head. I was a man then. I was a king then. Now — [He stretches his great limbs.] Angel You were a warrior in old days ? Cormar Ten years ! No more than ten years since. If now there be A warrior living in those days from Sveyn Of Orkney to the meanest — ask if this Be truth, that I, Red Cormar was to men A song in mine own time, as Fingal even, Or Fergus on the strings of Carril's harp. Ten years you would have thought could hardly sap The marrow of a young giant. Angel Surely you Were first among the seamen and the kings, The royal fighters. Have you not been to-day, Even this day, ten years married? Cormar You know that ! She hath told you that ? Why yes, I have been ten years [37] Sapped and unstrung, womanish, feeble, old. Yet have I taken a king by his full beard And a king's son by his wavy yellow hair And rolled away their crowns into my ship. Would God they had slain me then ! I am less a man Than if I were ten years buried. Angel Are there not Young lions and their whelps in the world to slay ? If you should lay your hands even in these days To the red reaping-hook, are there not kings That should desire your friendship? Cormar Once indeed ! I know not if the old kings are living yet. I have been buried an age, I think. It may be They are all dead, or, living, are grown white And tremble on their hams as they walk forth. Angel But you are young and your limbs fail not you. Go down among the young men ! Shew them all The work of an elder as your work was done In your day. CORMAR Nay. I am an old dog chained To a kennel. I can go no further forth Than the chain's length that holds me to my straw. Angel Will you be free ? There is no man is bound But by the woven cord of his invention. [38] You have devised this bondage that oppresseth you, And you alone can break it, if you be A man. Cormar I am. There was none like me. Angel You can remember praise that covered you. New praises can you by no means compel. Will you already in your richest health Shake by a fire, and count your old coin over? What joy have you, what profit in remembrance? Cormar A man there was of mighty limbs, a leader Of many warriors in Helgoland, When we went thither in our ships of old. Angel Ay, what of him to-day? Shall your sole heart Retain what the earth loses and must lose? Shall all things change about you in due course And you abide? Cormar He stood up on a rock And drew our helmsman with his left hand out Of the swinging, helpless ship, and held him high Above the hissing surf, and, laughing, struck The head from his body. Angel Ah-h— !— Then? [39] CORMAR I leapt down Into the wild deep water by the ram, And swam under the gleaming copper keel Up to his rock,, and with torn feet and knees Climbed., keeping still my shield over my head. And mowed him at the ankles. Down he came ! His sword was a mower's scythe, but help'd him not Against me : he had a spear two fathoms long, And two men ever abode at his back to carry it ! But there it hangs that felled this forest king. [He fakes his own sword from the wall] This oak among the pines. I laid him low. He had a collar of gold about his neck, But this shore through it like a" band of straw, Of yellow straw that bindeth up the sheaves. I hurled him clashing back among his friends, And they that followed me. gleaned after me. Such things I dream on in the black mid-field, And therefore I dip in my hand no more To fill it with the grain in sowing time. [He makes the sword sing.] AX GEL Why, how you make the blade whistle and bite Against the rive:; air ! CORMAR For I am yet Somewhere at heart a warrior and a king. Ax GEL There be new gallevs sighted in these waters. l4o] Cor mar Ha! What of them? Angel Set foot upon their decks You are fixed upon your loins like a strong tower ! Your body is a turret whence men watch And your long hair a banner to buoy up The hopeful hearts of warriors. Cormar I am yet Young, you would say? Angel You are a king of men. Cormar This target hath done service. Look ! This hide I stripped from a white bull ere I was grown, A wild white bull of Britain. That long scar It had of a Moor's scimitar in Spain. Think you with this before, and in my hand This, is there yet in me a word, a look, A spirit for men to follow ? Angel Surely yes : And women would fall down and clasp your knees. Cormar Well I remember launching the long ships And pushing round the headlands of the rocks : And outward then across the straits we went Westward against the wet tempestuous winds, [41] And south to cities of the merchant folks. And never came we home without good store Of gold and copper and curious woven work, And dark haired women whom we chose by lot. After the sowing put we forth to sea, And came again at harvest, and again Put out, when all was stored, to catch the winds Of Autumn till the snow-fall. So we put The raiment of the seasons on our lives, And with the months our beings moved. But One Hath brought us a new Heaven in His hand, A birthright of intolerable days, With promises to be redeemed at death, No glory of alternating good and ill Here in the flesh, of changing war and peace. I think He knew not of a royal need. His was no kingly heart that offered this. Angel Yours is a king's heart. Be a king and drive These new invaders from your soul. Drive out The enemy whose ships lie on your beach, Launch forth and follow over the rich seas And be not lost for a faint pilot's sake. Take you the helm ! Cormar What are you that have shewn My soul to me? What magic is in you, Since from the depth of mine own thought you speak The words my lips have uttered not. [42] Angel I see The spirit that is in you, and I speak The words that tremble on all lips the world wide. You are the trumpet at the mouth of Time : I am the breath within the trumpet. We Are soundless severally. Cormar You alone Have seen the god in me. By you I am crowned. Follow me ever out across the world. Angel Lead me. I follow. Cormar You are my strength, my soul ! [He clasps her.] Ah ! queenly soul ! My lover ! Oh ! your eyes — I cannot read the enchantment that doth haunt Your eyes and draw on mine. For you have come Out from some shrine where sits unuttered Truth And your face glows with knowledge infinite. Bring me, too, in to the dim place ! [The lamp begins to flicker.] [43] Angel We are one. Come, let us go amid the fields of kings. But look not back in sorrow. Let us go. It is the time to look, and know, and change, Since truth is dead in the old signs, and light Has faded from the lanterns lit of old. Cormar [With the sword in his right hand and his left arm through the buckler-straps.] I will tear off to-morrow from a king A horned helmet, and with a thin keel Slash out my name in foam across the sea. [They go out together, leaving the door wide: the lamp flickers again and goes out and the fire bums low. Presently voices are heard without and Thora re-enters with Gyda. Thora stands silent, taking in the truth at once, intuitively: but Gyda talks.] Gyda There's no one here. Is it his custom, then, To see all's well before he shuts the door? It may be when he left her she was afraid To sit alone in a strange house in the dark And followed after him. [44] Thora It is the truth. I closed my eyelids and shut out the truth; And now it fills my soul, the bitter weed, The unsown truth that springeth up like grass, And you come on it suddenly where it sprung Ages before you saw it. Gyda What do you mean? Thora Who was it came here wandering to my house ? Was this a woman sat beside my fire ? Whom have I entertained? Gyda What do you say ? Thora I would I were imperious, like a queen Out of the old stories, that is girt with a sword ! Now had I laid my hand to the copper hilt : I had smitten her, that her hair should have been shed down Over my feet like water, and him there I would have stretched above her, heart to heart Married and dead. Gyda I see now. He is gone But you must weep. Nay do not stand so still ! Weep here — here in my arms lest you go mad. [45] Thora Why, if they brought him dead I should but weep I should bend over him and still with tears Regret, regret, regret. Olaf [Without] How long you are ! My horses wait to draw you home again. The eagle of the morning is aloft, And spreads abroad his grey and golden wings Above the hills, above the pines and sea. \He enters.} What is amiss? Olaf [To Gyda.] Gyda Cormar is gone. Olaf Is he dead? Gyda He is gone with the strange woman. She is alone. Thora I would the pines were growing over me, Out of my heart, if that may quicken aught. [46] Olaf Ah ! flesh and spirit you have made quick in me. I pray you, Thora, be not sorrowful. I saw last night new symbols out of Heaven. The old signs are empty of the Truth and hang Against the sky like tempest-ruined oaks That stand for landmarks when the bounds are changed. They bind, not free thy soul. Upon your hands Where the soft flesh is hardened hath been set In these ten years the dreadful testament Of woman's sacrifice in love to man. Now of thine own act free thyself, as he Is freed, and be not like the rest of women Nailed for derision of the winds and all Interminable spirits, to the bleak Cross, The empty and antique symbol of the ring. [She starts and clutches the finger on which she wears the copper ring.] I'll take you hence. Gyda Thora ! Olaf Ah hear me now. I have five white horses harnessed in my wain. I will not stay to deck their heads with plumes Nor dress their manes, but let us go even now, Even in the dawn, as verily out of night Into the day your spirit shall advance. And you'll forget the rest. Is there not hope ? [47] Gyda Truly he loves you. If Truth be as grass Then is it sown as grass by the hand of God, And not unsown because we sowed it not. If this be God's will! Olaf For there must be change Within Eternity. I have money and land, And herds and flocks — but naught that is not yours- No, not a dream that visiteth me at night But seems mysteriously to proceed from you, Thora. Gyda Here, sweet, at least were solace, here Love and all gentleness, and it may be Forgetfulness and a new past created. Thora But think you it is now a thousand years — Have I among the dreamless folk been dead, With them forgetful for a thousand years Since I went to that other and gave him all? I went to him in white, with my hair bound, Bringing him boughs and blossom white upon them : And I was proud with garlands in my hair; And I was humble before him and gave all. He set me up between his knees : he took [48] The fillet from my forehead, and unclasped The bracelets from my arms, the silver rings, And the white girdle from my waist drew off. And all the bonds that did encircle me And bind me to my childish life he broke. And like a shaken branch that strews the earth With beauty, fell my blossom over him. And I was shed like dew upon his strength, I came down like the dew that gladdens earth, As a great tree whereon the rain is rained And the vast limbs are freshed ; so was my lord. But now as the garment we are weary of He hath changed me, and left me where he'll walk no more. He hath left me in an unremembered room. There is no kindness in him for my beauty, No sweet remembrance of my beauty's gift. And I am grey and fretful with remembrance. Olaf You are eternal! Thora This is the end of life, The ceasing of my natural increase here, Since time to come can grow not from the past Nor meet it even across this chasmed day. Olaf The past is dreadful. Love, be born anew ! [49] Thora If I could die first. Olaf I will fill your life With my youth, with my blood and with my dreams. Thora I can not take his arms from the thin girl I have so often wept for. She would come With eyes like these, upbraiding, full of tears, And say "Why left you me alone with him To take a new man?" Oh, the scarlet sun! Would God ye'd bury me out of the light of it. Olaf Thora ! Gyda Say nothing. Let her be alone. Her soul hath memories we can never share. We'll seek her out to-night. [She takes him away, stopping only to pull the curtain across the window, through which the morning sun is now streaming. The horse-bells jingle away into the distance.] Thora My life is in the prison of a ring ! Why can not I change, if that Change be Law? Lo ! all things change, but change comes not to me ! The circles of the world have shut me out. [curtain.] [50] SEP 3 1921.' UBRARY OF CONGRESS mi 111 in it i in mi linn i u in in in i I IL 015 926 797