The Tragedy of Etarre - Prologue by Rhys Carpenter Lyrics
SCENE: The curtain rises upon shifting fog-clouds which drive across the stage in ceaseless unrest.
GAWAINE is half visible, struggling against the grey drift.
GAWAINE
Is this the dawn whose fingers strive so weak
To pluck away the clinging shroud of night,
Or is this some unlightened, sullen land
Fallen between the darkness and the day?
Back from me, shrouded phantoms, misty sprites!
This is no time to whirl your shadow-dance:
Seek out the flooded marshes of the North
If ye would revel; seek the sunless heights
And laugh along their chasms and dark ravines,
Or frown and lower on plain of gloomy lakes,
Or battle with the giants of the hills.
[He unsheathes his sword.]
Since ye have shape and substance, fear this blade.
Shifting and mocking though ye vex mine eyes,
Yet are ye more than breath of mindless air,
For here I see your bodies' countenance
That leers against me, stupid mouth ajar,
And there I see your clutching hands which stretch
With boneless fingers, snatching at the wind.
[He strikes.]
Lo, how I cleft thee, shuddering breast and waist
From formless nether-limbs! Thy silly strength
Is thistle-down that's harried by the storm,
Or rain-drop's airy bubble threatening
With tiny voice the clarion-mouthèd sea.
Give way, weak phantom-thoughts of impotence,
Less real than clouded dreams that fall and break
In splintered crystals of awakening.
Grey-blooded, mirthless things that toss and fret,
I drive you back before me, void and vain.
[He disappears in the fog, cleaving with his sword the clouds which press in on every side. From
the unseen background are heard three voices singing.]
SONG
Children of the misty plain,
Creatures wrought of cloud and rain,
Shadowed phantoms of the brain
Of the dreaming earth,
Fade and vanish! in the sun
All your magic is undone,
All your charmèd webs unspun,
Tangles little worth,
Tattered shreds and wisps of grey
By the breezes swept away,
Smitten by the swords of day.
[During the song the fog has begun to clear.]
Fade and vanish, take you hence,
Loose your revel, break your spell,
Crush the heaven's lightless shell;
Hidden in the magic well,
Held enfettered by our thrall,
Move no wing and stir no sense,
Bide imprisoned till we call.
[The fog has entirely cleared.]
SCENE: A woodland pool, about which stand three maidens, the first of whom is young, the second
in the mid of life, the third old, with grey-streaked hair. The trees show autumn leafage.
Early morning.
GAWAINE
What sprites are ye that weave a riddled song
Whereby the very forces of the sky
Are held enmeshed in sure obedience?
THE YOUNGEST
Draw near and hearken to our speech,
For we have wonders on our lips
And work strange magic with our tongue.
THE SECOND
On sable reef and golden beach
By will of us sea-things and ships
In wrack of wind and wave are flung.
THE ELDEST
The fingers of our fortune reach
From moon to sun and work eclipse
Whereby dead stars are fashioned young.
GAWAINE
What wild black speech is this of sun and star,
And what have ye to do with ruined ships?
Are ye the devil's handmaids working grief
Against the sunlit ways of God?
THE ELDEST
We guard:
Ours is a sacred heritage.
THE SECOND
We wait:
Ours is a dark fulfillment.
THE YOUNGEST
We attain:
For we are one with all that moves and is.
GAWAINE
What ye attain I know not, why ye wait
Is hidden till the waiting hour be done,
And what ye guard I see not, yet am fain
To snatch this knowledge from your flying speech
As feather stricken from a fleeing bird.
[He approaches the three]
THE SECOND
The plume that flutters down the tired wind
Is not more idly grasped, nor with less toil
Attained, than is the secret of our word.
GAWAINE
Is this a spring wherein the fair water lies,
Or but illusion's round, some silver gleam
Caught up and pent within the hoop of night,
A mirror wrought of nothing? Nay, but here
Is water welcome to the thirsty mouth!
I pray you by all holy thoughts and names
Give me to drink! Three days of wandering
Have parched my lips and snapped my strength in twain.
THE YOUNGEST
The well of strange adventure: whoso drinks
Shall fill the changing pages of his deeds
With words of written wonder.
GAWAINE
And the king
Has nought of higher praise to give his knights
Than this: "They sought adventure and attained."
Give me to drink. Alone and without steed,
Wearied with hunger, stricken with fatigue,
I take upon me danger, toil, and strife,
And drink adventure with an eager mouth;
For I am Gawaine, and of Arthur's court!
THE ELDEST
Before that hour when over stony ways
Thy steed was broken, never in the lists
To run against the wind with nostrils wide
Or stand again the shock of breaking spears,
Before, alone in wood and tangled glade,
Thy feet strove sadly, seeking hermitage,
We knew of Gawaine, dreaming he would come
And beg a draught to quench his bitter thirst.
GAWAINE
What tale is this? Ye knew that I should come?
THE ELDEST
Yea, 'twas our knowledge that this thing should be.
GAWAINE
Beneath gold raiment lurks deceptive heart
And too-great knowledge is a mask for ill.
I fear you that are fair of face, and wise
Beyond all proper wisdom of mankind.
God and the devil's workers are alone
In such foreknowledge.
THE ELDEST
Find no fear of us.
This was a dream: we are beset with dreams.
What faults of ours if they be always true?
We cannot guide our dreams, they are of God.
THE SECOND
We are the warders of a deathless source.
Draw near and drink, and have no further fear.
THE YOUNGEST
We give, yet give not save for gift's return.
GAWAINE
What will ye of me?
THE SECOND
That which all must give,
Judgement between us of his true desire.
GAWAINE
The shrouds of clinging words are yet undrawn,
And deep enfolded lies the inner wish:
I know not what ye say, nor what ye will.
THE YOUNGEST
No colours of strange magic hide our speech.
The well of strange adventure: whoso drinks
Shall choose between us whom his true desire
Would make companion in the day of deeds.
GAWAINE
Is this the price wherewith a draught is paid?
Small price and quickly given. Yet to choose
Vexes the spirit with a running doubt
That will not rest.
THE YOUNGEST
Nay, drink thy draught,
And when the clamour of the hounds of thirst
Has ceased above its quarry, and thy lips
Are drinking in their long-sought sustenance,
Perchance thy spirit's fire shall rise again
Until the lamp of judgement shall be light
Within thy mind, to cast its faultless shine
Upon our waiting and release thy doubt.
THE SECOND
Loosen thy helm and make of it thy bowl,
Thy silver goblet dipping crystal wine.
GAWAINE
The subtle threads of water twist and spin
And will not be contained within a helm.
THE SECOND
Nay, make thy trial.
GAWAINE
If there be magic here,
Perchance the helm will hold the dwindling weight;
Else is it vain. Yet let my hands essay
What soul and body thirst for; and ye streams
Of shadowed water, lend your kindly aid.
[He looses his helmet and dips it into the well until it
is filled to the brim. He raises it to his lips,
and, stooping above it, drinks long.]
Through all the barren chambers of my soul
There went the sound of music and a voice
That woke the silence with a song of life;
And my own spirit sang. Through open doors
Came breath of springtime, earth's awakening,
The resurrection from the graves of sleep.
Look down, look down; the water at thy feet
Is troubled with the coming of a dream.
GAWAINE
[Gawaine bends over the well and stares into its depths.]
What world of changing pageants here is hid?
Across the mirrored passage of the well
Move bright processions, glittering array
Of bannered knights and charging battle-fields.
The shift like oil on silent rivers borne
And blend quick colours caught from rainbow heights
With gold and silver pride of broidered silks
Precious beyond all treasured count of wealth.
[He remains, staring spellbound.]
The armies pass, and now again the sky
Lies here reflected, and the shaded trees
Bring silence with their canopy of green.
There sped a swallow like a gleam of grey,
And here the wind went laughing through the leaves.
The magic show has passed.
THE YOUNGEST
It will renew.
Some fuller vision draws across the depths.
THE ELDEST
What seest thou, O Gawaine? for mine eyes
Are not as are my sister's, keen to mark
From farthest bounds the uttermost approach,
And in quick vision versed; yet mine retain
Their memories, unfaded for all time.
GAWAINE
An armoured knight in shameful wise is borne
Bound to the belly of a drooping steed;
Three sorry knaves of little stature drag
Th' unwilling bridle. Now the dream is passed.
What sight was this? what riddle of a world
Where men are pictures on the water's shield,
And things go by without our minds' control
Like scattered dreams when body's maladies
Assail the brain and make of it their toy?
THE YOUNGEST
This is thy future: time's processional
Moves ever through the water's mirrored depth,
And he who drinks may gain a broken glimpse
Within the endless change of shape and form
Wherewith the false, illusive world of sense
Doth clothe itself in unreality.
GAWAINE
Am I that knight, in wretched manner bound?
Shall others drag me at their bridle's will?
Would I were slain in battle, ere such fate
Had darkened all the splendour of my deeds
And over all the glory of great wars
And broken fields of battle cast a pall.
THE YOUNGEST
My knight he is and loyally he serves.
But let thine eyes and not thy lips demand
Response: lean forth above the crystal flood
And with keen search from visioned future pluck
A present knowledge; in those depths there lie
The figures, shapes, and fashions of all things.
Call forth again its magic pageantry,
And seek thy answer there.
GAWAINE
The depths are stirred,
Light leaps from shadow, figures move and sway
And gather into outline fraught with life. . .
Unbound he lies, the horse with feet unmoved
Crops short the herbage, triple caitiff knights
Have laid their hands beneath him; now they toil
Across the gorse; his helpless body hangs
With legs and arms that strike against the ground
In mimic eagerness and mock embrace.
And here they move beyond the mirror's rim,
And lo, myself, approaching on the hill! . . .
Dark! . . . dark! . . . more quick than sun before the storm,
Or moon cloud-ridden, sped the light away.
This water, gleaming with the shapes of men,
Is now but water --
THE SECOND
And therewith fulfils
Thy thirst, and calls upon thee for thy word,
That pledged reward, that choice between our lives.
GAWAINE
How ran your saying? "Whoso drinks
Shall choose among us her whom true desire
Would make companion in the day of deeds."
Fair are ye all: here lies no price to pay,
But some reward, heav'n-sent to quench desire.
Fair are ye all, and therein lurks the doubt:
I choose the one, and straight the other two
Neglected rankle, till a gaping wound
Across my memory cries out regret,
And lo, I know not whom my choice approves.
Yet often, when our brains are still at fault,
Still measuring confusion, weighing doubts,
There wakens in our heart a sudden fire
To guide the will and light the darkened thought.
I pray you, therefore, be compassionate
And find no evil in my words; their fault,
If fault they hold, set not against my charge,
But lay their burden at the doors of Them
Who fashioned men and gave them their desires.
THE ELDEST
To him that cries my name, I bring a gift
Of wisdom greater than the strength of kings.
Mine eyes have seen, through many a changing year,
The circles of men's life revolve, return,
Through birth and childhood unto age and death.
My lips can tell thee tales and mysteries
Of olden days when dragons held the earth
And creatures of the slime were on the sea,
When men did battle in fierce, brutish wise
And lived in hollow caverns of the hills.
GAWAINE
The past I love not: 'tis a murdered life,
A corpse wherein the worms of memory cling.
I like not tales, they haunt the present deed
And make the sword-edge tremble with their dreams,
The faltering spear-shaft snap within our hands.
THE YOUNGEST
But I am one who never felt the past
Blow like the bitter wind from winter seas.
For me the world is yet a dream unheard,
A flower whose cup has never held the sun.
Turn unto me and love me; thou and I
Shall guide anew the world, restore the right,
And make of men a goodlier, nobler race.
GAWAINE
There is nought certain in this world of change
Save what our hands can grasp, our eyes behold;
All else is mockery of chance and time,
A golden bauble, a deceptive lure,
A sunlit rainbow seen across the clouds, --
Draw nearer, there is nothing: mist and rain.
And thou, fair maid upon the threshold caught
With eager feet half ventured, half afraid,
Thy promise is not yet fulfillment grown,
Thine eyes are mirrors of a future world,
Foreboders of enchantment, giving view
On womanhood and sweet matured delights,
Still hidden, now, in virginal reserve.
[He turns towards the SECOND MAIDEN.]
But thou whose gaze is neither sad nor gay,
Not sad for years behind thee taken flight,
Nor gay with hope of pleasant days unseen,
But full with knowledge of a present grace,
Demanding not from future or from past,
Secure within the fastness of thy ways,
Thou art to me a token and a sign
Of perfect womanhood's unyielding charm,
For matchless adoration set apart.
I choose thee for the mistress whom my spear
Shall champion against the warring earth;
My sword shall bear thy name through cloven steel
Of foeman's helm and reeling battle-shield;
And like a beacon shalt thou blaze and burn
Above the lists, through cries of fallen men,
To light me into battle, till I grasp,
With victor's hand, th' unsteady plume of fame.
THE SECOND
The choice is made, the choosing spirit bound;
The reed is cut, the spoken word is writ;
Closed lies the book; already, many hands
Are fashioning the unrelenting seal.
The hour is here wherein thou shalt depart.
In form invisible I come to guide
Thy shifting purpose and uncertain will.
Go forth and seek fulfillment from thy choice:
Beyond this wood there lies the waiting world
And many deeds therein, to do or spurn.
Across the shifting picture of thy fate
Lie sun and shadow of incessant change
And nought of steadfast purpose under all
Save me, in guise unseen, to lead thy hand
From fortune into favour, love, and strife.
Farewell, and fare as best such spirits may
That choose my counsel; theirs is but a life
That mocks its own attainment, wrought in vain.
[She bends over the well and speaks in incantation.]
Veil the light:
Hide the day!
Shadow and silence!
Dreamless sleep!
Spirits hidden in the well,
Bound beneath a magic spell,
Stirring neither limb nor sense
In an idle impotence,
Rise against the glaring day,
Spreading sable shrouds and dun,
Cover earth and sky with grey;
Cast your veils against the sun!
[As she speaks, the light gradually wanes. From the well
a fine mist begins to rise.]
GAWAINE
By sorcery accursed I stand agape
Nor stretch a thwarting hand to break the spell.
Were I a cliff, a thousand ages old,
Or gnarlèd pine deep-rooted in the rock,
I could not stand more idly, nor endure
More helpless in the surging front of ill.
[The mist grows ever heavier, until a dense fog, rising from the well, has covered the entire stage.]
THE THREE MAIDENS [singing]
Damp and mist and heavy vapour,
Shrouded fog and dripping cold,
Quench the sunlight's fallen taper,
Hide away the flame of gold.
Out of pond and becken cool,
Out of well and fountain head,
Out of tree-enshadowed pool
Where the autumn leaves lie dead,
Where no deer with frightened feet
Ever leapt in terror fleet,
Out of marshy river bed
Where no forest creature drank,
Out of swamp and fen arisen,
Break your bonds and loose your prison,
Water vapours, grey and dank!
[The fog has completely hidden everything. The singing voices have drifted ever further and
further away, until at last the song dies in the distance. A long silence follows. For several
minutes the stage remains grey and void. At last the fog begins to clear.]
GAWAINE is half visible, struggling against the grey drift.
GAWAINE
Is this the dawn whose fingers strive so weak
To pluck away the clinging shroud of night,
Or is this some unlightened, sullen land
Fallen between the darkness and the day?
Back from me, shrouded phantoms, misty sprites!
This is no time to whirl your shadow-dance:
Seek out the flooded marshes of the North
If ye would revel; seek the sunless heights
And laugh along their chasms and dark ravines,
Or frown and lower on plain of gloomy lakes,
Or battle with the giants of the hills.
[He unsheathes his sword.]
Since ye have shape and substance, fear this blade.
Shifting and mocking though ye vex mine eyes,
Yet are ye more than breath of mindless air,
For here I see your bodies' countenance
That leers against me, stupid mouth ajar,
And there I see your clutching hands which stretch
With boneless fingers, snatching at the wind.
[He strikes.]
Lo, how I cleft thee, shuddering breast and waist
From formless nether-limbs! Thy silly strength
Is thistle-down that's harried by the storm,
Or rain-drop's airy bubble threatening
With tiny voice the clarion-mouthèd sea.
Give way, weak phantom-thoughts of impotence,
Less real than clouded dreams that fall and break
In splintered crystals of awakening.
Grey-blooded, mirthless things that toss and fret,
I drive you back before me, void and vain.
[He disappears in the fog, cleaving with his sword the clouds which press in on every side. From
the unseen background are heard three voices singing.]
SONG
Children of the misty plain,
Creatures wrought of cloud and rain,
Shadowed phantoms of the brain
Of the dreaming earth,
Fade and vanish! in the sun
All your magic is undone,
All your charmèd webs unspun,
Tangles little worth,
Tattered shreds and wisps of grey
By the breezes swept away,
Smitten by the swords of day.
[During the song the fog has begun to clear.]
Fade and vanish, take you hence,
Loose your revel, break your spell,
Crush the heaven's lightless shell;
Hidden in the magic well,
Held enfettered by our thrall,
Move no wing and stir no sense,
Bide imprisoned till we call.
[The fog has entirely cleared.]
SCENE: A woodland pool, about which stand three maidens, the first of whom is young, the second
in the mid of life, the third old, with grey-streaked hair. The trees show autumn leafage.
Early morning.
GAWAINE
What sprites are ye that weave a riddled song
Whereby the very forces of the sky
Are held enmeshed in sure obedience?
THE YOUNGEST
Draw near and hearken to our speech,
For we have wonders on our lips
And work strange magic with our tongue.
THE SECOND
On sable reef and golden beach
By will of us sea-things and ships
In wrack of wind and wave are flung.
THE ELDEST
The fingers of our fortune reach
From moon to sun and work eclipse
Whereby dead stars are fashioned young.
GAWAINE
What wild black speech is this of sun and star,
And what have ye to do with ruined ships?
Are ye the devil's handmaids working grief
Against the sunlit ways of God?
THE ELDEST
We guard:
Ours is a sacred heritage.
THE SECOND
We wait:
Ours is a dark fulfillment.
THE YOUNGEST
We attain:
For we are one with all that moves and is.
GAWAINE
What ye attain I know not, why ye wait
Is hidden till the waiting hour be done,
And what ye guard I see not, yet am fain
To snatch this knowledge from your flying speech
As feather stricken from a fleeing bird.
[He approaches the three]
THE SECOND
The plume that flutters down the tired wind
Is not more idly grasped, nor with less toil
Attained, than is the secret of our word.
GAWAINE
Is this a spring wherein the fair water lies,
Or but illusion's round, some silver gleam
Caught up and pent within the hoop of night,
A mirror wrought of nothing? Nay, but here
Is water welcome to the thirsty mouth!
I pray you by all holy thoughts and names
Give me to drink! Three days of wandering
Have parched my lips and snapped my strength in twain.
THE YOUNGEST
The well of strange adventure: whoso drinks
Shall fill the changing pages of his deeds
With words of written wonder.
GAWAINE
And the king
Has nought of higher praise to give his knights
Than this: "They sought adventure and attained."
Give me to drink. Alone and without steed,
Wearied with hunger, stricken with fatigue,
I take upon me danger, toil, and strife,
And drink adventure with an eager mouth;
For I am Gawaine, and of Arthur's court!
THE ELDEST
Before that hour when over stony ways
Thy steed was broken, never in the lists
To run against the wind with nostrils wide
Or stand again the shock of breaking spears,
Before, alone in wood and tangled glade,
Thy feet strove sadly, seeking hermitage,
We knew of Gawaine, dreaming he would come
And beg a draught to quench his bitter thirst.
GAWAINE
What tale is this? Ye knew that I should come?
THE ELDEST
Yea, 'twas our knowledge that this thing should be.
GAWAINE
Beneath gold raiment lurks deceptive heart
And too-great knowledge is a mask for ill.
I fear you that are fair of face, and wise
Beyond all proper wisdom of mankind.
God and the devil's workers are alone
In such foreknowledge.
THE ELDEST
Find no fear of us.
This was a dream: we are beset with dreams.
What faults of ours if they be always true?
We cannot guide our dreams, they are of God.
THE SECOND
We are the warders of a deathless source.
Draw near and drink, and have no further fear.
THE YOUNGEST
We give, yet give not save for gift's return.
GAWAINE
What will ye of me?
THE SECOND
That which all must give,
Judgement between us of his true desire.
GAWAINE
The shrouds of clinging words are yet undrawn,
And deep enfolded lies the inner wish:
I know not what ye say, nor what ye will.
THE YOUNGEST
No colours of strange magic hide our speech.
The well of strange adventure: whoso drinks
Shall choose between us whom his true desire
Would make companion in the day of deeds.
GAWAINE
Is this the price wherewith a draught is paid?
Small price and quickly given. Yet to choose
Vexes the spirit with a running doubt
That will not rest.
THE YOUNGEST
Nay, drink thy draught,
And when the clamour of the hounds of thirst
Has ceased above its quarry, and thy lips
Are drinking in their long-sought sustenance,
Perchance thy spirit's fire shall rise again
Until the lamp of judgement shall be light
Within thy mind, to cast its faultless shine
Upon our waiting and release thy doubt.
THE SECOND
Loosen thy helm and make of it thy bowl,
Thy silver goblet dipping crystal wine.
GAWAINE
The subtle threads of water twist and spin
And will not be contained within a helm.
THE SECOND
Nay, make thy trial.
GAWAINE
If there be magic here,
Perchance the helm will hold the dwindling weight;
Else is it vain. Yet let my hands essay
What soul and body thirst for; and ye streams
Of shadowed water, lend your kindly aid.
[He looses his helmet and dips it into the well until it
is filled to the brim. He raises it to his lips,
and, stooping above it, drinks long.]
Through all the barren chambers of my soul
There went the sound of music and a voice
That woke the silence with a song of life;
And my own spirit sang. Through open doors
Came breath of springtime, earth's awakening,
The resurrection from the graves of sleep.
Look down, look down; the water at thy feet
Is troubled with the coming of a dream.
GAWAINE
[Gawaine bends over the well and stares into its depths.]
What world of changing pageants here is hid?
Across the mirrored passage of the well
Move bright processions, glittering array
Of bannered knights and charging battle-fields.
The shift like oil on silent rivers borne
And blend quick colours caught from rainbow heights
With gold and silver pride of broidered silks
Precious beyond all treasured count of wealth.
[He remains, staring spellbound.]
The armies pass, and now again the sky
Lies here reflected, and the shaded trees
Bring silence with their canopy of green.
There sped a swallow like a gleam of grey,
And here the wind went laughing through the leaves.
The magic show has passed.
THE YOUNGEST
It will renew.
Some fuller vision draws across the depths.
THE ELDEST
What seest thou, O Gawaine? for mine eyes
Are not as are my sister's, keen to mark
From farthest bounds the uttermost approach,
And in quick vision versed; yet mine retain
Their memories, unfaded for all time.
GAWAINE
An armoured knight in shameful wise is borne
Bound to the belly of a drooping steed;
Three sorry knaves of little stature drag
Th' unwilling bridle. Now the dream is passed.
What sight was this? what riddle of a world
Where men are pictures on the water's shield,
And things go by without our minds' control
Like scattered dreams when body's maladies
Assail the brain and make of it their toy?
THE YOUNGEST
This is thy future: time's processional
Moves ever through the water's mirrored depth,
And he who drinks may gain a broken glimpse
Within the endless change of shape and form
Wherewith the false, illusive world of sense
Doth clothe itself in unreality.
GAWAINE
Am I that knight, in wretched manner bound?
Shall others drag me at their bridle's will?
Would I were slain in battle, ere such fate
Had darkened all the splendour of my deeds
And over all the glory of great wars
And broken fields of battle cast a pall.
THE YOUNGEST
My knight he is and loyally he serves.
But let thine eyes and not thy lips demand
Response: lean forth above the crystal flood
And with keen search from visioned future pluck
A present knowledge; in those depths there lie
The figures, shapes, and fashions of all things.
Call forth again its magic pageantry,
And seek thy answer there.
GAWAINE
The depths are stirred,
Light leaps from shadow, figures move and sway
And gather into outline fraught with life. . .
Unbound he lies, the horse with feet unmoved
Crops short the herbage, triple caitiff knights
Have laid their hands beneath him; now they toil
Across the gorse; his helpless body hangs
With legs and arms that strike against the ground
In mimic eagerness and mock embrace.
And here they move beyond the mirror's rim,
And lo, myself, approaching on the hill! . . .
Dark! . . . dark! . . . more quick than sun before the storm,
Or moon cloud-ridden, sped the light away.
This water, gleaming with the shapes of men,
Is now but water --
THE SECOND
And therewith fulfils
Thy thirst, and calls upon thee for thy word,
That pledged reward, that choice between our lives.
GAWAINE
How ran your saying? "Whoso drinks
Shall choose among us her whom true desire
Would make companion in the day of deeds."
Fair are ye all: here lies no price to pay,
But some reward, heav'n-sent to quench desire.
Fair are ye all, and therein lurks the doubt:
I choose the one, and straight the other two
Neglected rankle, till a gaping wound
Across my memory cries out regret,
And lo, I know not whom my choice approves.
Yet often, when our brains are still at fault,
Still measuring confusion, weighing doubts,
There wakens in our heart a sudden fire
To guide the will and light the darkened thought.
I pray you, therefore, be compassionate
And find no evil in my words; their fault,
If fault they hold, set not against my charge,
But lay their burden at the doors of Them
Who fashioned men and gave them their desires.
THE ELDEST
To him that cries my name, I bring a gift
Of wisdom greater than the strength of kings.
Mine eyes have seen, through many a changing year,
The circles of men's life revolve, return,
Through birth and childhood unto age and death.
My lips can tell thee tales and mysteries
Of olden days when dragons held the earth
And creatures of the slime were on the sea,
When men did battle in fierce, brutish wise
And lived in hollow caverns of the hills.
GAWAINE
The past I love not: 'tis a murdered life,
A corpse wherein the worms of memory cling.
I like not tales, they haunt the present deed
And make the sword-edge tremble with their dreams,
The faltering spear-shaft snap within our hands.
THE YOUNGEST
But I am one who never felt the past
Blow like the bitter wind from winter seas.
For me the world is yet a dream unheard,
A flower whose cup has never held the sun.
Turn unto me and love me; thou and I
Shall guide anew the world, restore the right,
And make of men a goodlier, nobler race.
GAWAINE
There is nought certain in this world of change
Save what our hands can grasp, our eyes behold;
All else is mockery of chance and time,
A golden bauble, a deceptive lure,
A sunlit rainbow seen across the clouds, --
Draw nearer, there is nothing: mist and rain.
And thou, fair maid upon the threshold caught
With eager feet half ventured, half afraid,
Thy promise is not yet fulfillment grown,
Thine eyes are mirrors of a future world,
Foreboders of enchantment, giving view
On womanhood and sweet matured delights,
Still hidden, now, in virginal reserve.
[He turns towards the SECOND MAIDEN.]
But thou whose gaze is neither sad nor gay,
Not sad for years behind thee taken flight,
Nor gay with hope of pleasant days unseen,
But full with knowledge of a present grace,
Demanding not from future or from past,
Secure within the fastness of thy ways,
Thou art to me a token and a sign
Of perfect womanhood's unyielding charm,
For matchless adoration set apart.
I choose thee for the mistress whom my spear
Shall champion against the warring earth;
My sword shall bear thy name through cloven steel
Of foeman's helm and reeling battle-shield;
And like a beacon shalt thou blaze and burn
Above the lists, through cries of fallen men,
To light me into battle, till I grasp,
With victor's hand, th' unsteady plume of fame.
THE SECOND
The choice is made, the choosing spirit bound;
The reed is cut, the spoken word is writ;
Closed lies the book; already, many hands
Are fashioning the unrelenting seal.
The hour is here wherein thou shalt depart.
In form invisible I come to guide
Thy shifting purpose and uncertain will.
Go forth and seek fulfillment from thy choice:
Beyond this wood there lies the waiting world
And many deeds therein, to do or spurn.
Across the shifting picture of thy fate
Lie sun and shadow of incessant change
And nought of steadfast purpose under all
Save me, in guise unseen, to lead thy hand
From fortune into favour, love, and strife.
Farewell, and fare as best such spirits may
That choose my counsel; theirs is but a life
That mocks its own attainment, wrought in vain.
[She bends over the well and speaks in incantation.]
Veil the light:
Hide the day!
Shadow and silence!
Dreamless sleep!
Spirits hidden in the well,
Bound beneath a magic spell,
Stirring neither limb nor sense
In an idle impotence,
Rise against the glaring day,
Spreading sable shrouds and dun,
Cover earth and sky with grey;
Cast your veils against the sun!
[As she speaks, the light gradually wanes. From the well
a fine mist begins to rise.]
GAWAINE
By sorcery accursed I stand agape
Nor stretch a thwarting hand to break the spell.
Were I a cliff, a thousand ages old,
Or gnarlèd pine deep-rooted in the rock,
I could not stand more idly, nor endure
More helpless in the surging front of ill.
[The mist grows ever heavier, until a dense fog, rising from the well, has covered the entire stage.]
THE THREE MAIDENS [singing]
Damp and mist and heavy vapour,
Shrouded fog and dripping cold,
Quench the sunlight's fallen taper,
Hide away the flame of gold.
Out of pond and becken cool,
Out of well and fountain head,
Out of tree-enshadowed pool
Where the autumn leaves lie dead,
Where no deer with frightened feet
Ever leapt in terror fleet,
Out of marshy river bed
Where no forest creature drank,
Out of swamp and fen arisen,
Break your bonds and loose your prison,
Water vapours, grey and dank!
[The fog has completely hidden everything. The singing voices have drifted ever further and
further away, until at last the song dies in the distance. A long silence follows. For several
minutes the stage remains grey and void. At last the fog begins to clear.]