The Old Woman of Beare
Ebbtide to me!My life drifts downward with the drifting sea;Old age has caught and compassed me about,The tides of time run out.
The "Hag of Beare!"'Tis thus I hear the young girls jeer and mock;Yet I, who in these cast-off clouts appear,Once donned a queenly smock.
Ye love but self,Ye churls! to-day ye worship pelf!But in the days I lived we sought for men,We loved our lovers then!
Ah! swiftly whenTheir splendid chariots coursed upon the plain,I checked their pace, for me they flew amain,Held in by curb and rein.
I envy not the old,Whom gold adorns, whom richest robes enfold,But ah! the girls, who pass my cell at morn,While I am shorn!
On sweet May-mornTheir ringing laughter on the breeze is borne,While I, who shake with ague and with age,In Litanies engage.
Amen! and woe is me!I lie here rotting like a broken tree;Each acorn has its day and needs must fall,Time makes an end of all!
I had my day with kings!We drank the brimming mead, the ruddy wine,Where now I drink whey-water; for company more fineThan shrivelled hags, hag though I am, I pine.
The flood-tide thine!Mine but the low down-curling ebb-tide's flow,My youth, my hope, are carried from my hand,Thy flood-tide foams to land.
My body dropsSlowly but sure towards the abode we know;When God's High Son takes from me all my propsIt will be time to go!
Bony my arms and bareCould you but see them 'neath the mantle's flap,Wizened and worn, that once were round and fair,When kings lay in my lap.
'Tis, "O my God" with me,Many prayers said, yet more prayers left undone;If I could spread my garment in the sunI'd say them, every one.
The sea-wave talks,Athwart the frozen earth grim winter stalks;Young Fermod, son of Mugh, ne'er said me nay,Yet he comes not to-day.
How still they row,Oar dipped by oar the wavering reeds among,To Alma's shore they press, a ghostly throng,Deeply they sleep and long.
No lightsome laughDisturbs my fireside's stillness; shadows fall,And quiet forms are gathering round my hearth,Yet lies the hand of silence on them all.
I do not deem it illThat a nun's veil should rest upon my head;But finer far my feast-robe's various hueTo me, when all is said.
My very cloak grows old;Grey is its tint, its woof is frayed and thin;I seem to feel grey hairs within its fold,Or are they on my skin?
O happy Isle of Ocean,Thy flood-tide leaps to meet the eddying waveLifting it up and onward. Till the graveThe sea-wave comes not after ebb for me.
I find them notThose sunny sands I knew so well of yore;Only the surf's sad roar sounds up to me,My tide will turn no more.
Words in this poem 22
- compassed a.
- Rounded; arched.
- queenly a.
- Like, becoming, or suitable to, a queen. [AS. cwenlic feminine.]
- pelf n.
- Money; riches; lucre; gain; -- generally conveying the idea of something ill-gotten or worthless. It has no plural. [OE. pelfir booty, OF. pelfre, akin to pelfrer to plunder, and perh. to E. pillage. Cf. Pilfer.]
- coursed a.
- Hunted; as, a coursed hare.
- amain adv.
- With might; with full force; vigorously; violently; exceedingly. [Pref. a- + main. See 2d Main, n.]
- enfold v. t.
- To infold. See Infold.
- morn n.
- The first part of the day; the morning; -- used chiefly in poetry. [OE. morwen, morgen, AS. morgen; akin to D. morgen, OS. morgan, G. morgen, Icel. morginn, morgunn, Sw. morgon, Dan. morgen, Goth. maúrgins. Cf. Morrow, Morning.]
- amen interj.
- An expression used at the end of prayers, and meaning, So be it. At the end of a creed, it is a solemn asseveration of belief. [L. amen, Gr. am certainly, truly.]
- needs adv.
- Of necessity; necessarily; indispensably; -- often with must, and equivalent to of need. [Orig. gen. of need, used as an adverb. Cf. - wards.]
- drank n.
- Wild oats, or darnel grass. See Drake a plant. [Cf. 3d Drake.]
- brimming a.
- Full to the brim; overflowing.
- abode n.
- Act of waiting; delay. [OE. abad, abood, fr. abiden to abide. See Abide. For the change of vowel, cf. abode, imp. of abide.]
- props n.
- A game of chance, in which four sea shells, each called a prop, are used instead of dice.
- wizened a.
- Dried; shriveled; withered; shrunken; weazen; as, a wizened old man.
- undone a.
- Not done or performed; neglected. [Pref. un- not + done.]
- ghostly a.
- Relating to the soul; not carnal or secular; spiritual; as, a ghostly confessor. [OE. gastlich, gostlich, AS. gastlic. See Ghost.]
- lightsome a.
- Having light; lighted; not dark or gloomy; bright.
- stillness n.
- The quality or state of being still; quietness; silence; calmness; inactivity.
- deem v. t.
- To decide; to judge; to sentence; to condemn. [OE. demen to judge, condemn, AS. d, fr. d doom; akin to OFries. d, OS. ad, D. doemen, OHG. tuommen, Icel. dæma, Sw. dömma, Dan. dömme, Goth. d. See Doom, n., an]
- isle v. t.
- To cause to become an island, or like an island; to surround or encompass; to island.
- sunny a.
- Of or pertaining to the sun; proceeding from, or resembling the sun; hence, shining; bright; brilliant; radiant.
- yore adv.
- In time long past; in old time; long since. [OE. , yare, , AS. geára;akin to geár a year, E. year. Year.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Old Woman of Beare is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poem-Book of the Gael Translations from Irish Gaelic Poetry into English Prose and Verse, Project Gutenberg ebook #46917; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Eleanor Hull, The Old Woman of Beare, in The Poem-Book of the Gael (1912), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #46917, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hull-gael/the-old-woman-of-beare.html, id L11704.
Form and metre
The Old Woman of Beare is 76 lines in 19 stanzas of 4 lines each. The commonest rhyme scheme is AABB, in 6 of the 19 stanzas; the rest vary or could not be confirmed. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.9 syllables. 1 line ends on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 17% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 AABB meA · seaA · aboutB · outB
- 2 ABAB beareA · mockB · appearA · smockB
- 3 AABB selfA · pelfA · menB · thenB
- 4 -AAA when · plainA · amainA · reinA
- 5 AABB oldA · enfoldA · mornB · shornB
- 6 AABB mornA · borneA · ageB · engageB
- 7 AABB meA · treeA · fallB · allB
- 8 -AAA kings · wineA · fineA · pineA
- 9 --AA thine · flow · handA · landA
- 10 ABAB dropsA · knowB · propsA · goB
- 11 ABAB bareA · flapB · fairA · lapB
- 12 -AAA me · undoneA · sunA · oneA
- 13 AABB talksA · stalksA · nayB · dayB
- 14 --AA row · among · throngA · longA
- 15 -A-A laugh · fallA · hearth · allA
- 16 -A-A ill · headA · hue · saidA
- 17 ABAB oldA · thinB · foldA · skinB
- 18 -AA- ocean · waveA · graveA · me
- 19 -A-A not · yoreA · me · moreA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Ebbtide to me! | 4 | ···· |
| My life drifts downward with the drifting sea; | 9 | ···/··/˘· |
| Old age has caught and compassed me about, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| The tides of time run out. | 6 | ······ |
| The "Hag of Beare!" | 4 | ···· |
| 'Tis thus I hear the young girls jeer and mock; | 10 | ·········· |
| Yet I, who in these cast-off clouts appear, | 10 | ········˘/ |
| Once donned a queenly smock. | 7 | ··˘·/˘· |
| Ye love but self, | 4 | ···· |
| Ye churls! to-day ye worship pelf! | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| But in the days I lived we sought for men, | 10 | ·········· |
| We loved our lovers then! | 8 | ··˘/˘/˘· |
| Ah! swiftly when | 4 | ·/˘· |
| Their splendid chariots coursed upon the plain, | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| I checked their pace, for me they flew amain, | 10 | ········˘/ |
| Held in by curb and rein. | 6 | ······ |
| I envy not the old, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Whom gold adorns, whom richest robes enfold, | 10 | ··˘/·/˘·˘/ |
| But ah! the girls, who pass my cell at morn, | 10 | ·········· |
| While I am shorn! | 4 | ···· |
| On sweet May-morn | 4 | ···· |
| Their ringing laughter on the breeze is borne, | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| While I, who shake with ague and with age, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| In Litanies engage. | 6 | ·/˘˘˘/ |
| Amen! and woe is me! | 6 | ˘/···· |
| I lie here rotting like a broken tree; | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Each acorn has its day and needs must fall, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Time makes an end of all! | 6 | ······ |
| I had my day with kings! | 6 | ······ |
| We drank the brimming mead, the ruddy wine, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Where now I drink whey-water; for company more fine | 12 | ·····/˘·/˘·· |
| Than shrivelled hags, hag though I am, I pine. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| The flood-tide thine! | 4 | ···· |
| Mine but the low down-curling ebb-tide's flow, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| My youth, my hope, are carried from my hand, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Thy flood-tide foams to land. | 6 | ······ |
| My body drops | 4 | ·/˘· |
| Slowly but sure towards the abode we know; | 10 | /˘····˘/·· |
| When God's High Son takes from me all my props | 10 | ·········· |
| It will be time to go! | 6 | ······ |
| Bony my arms and bare | 6 | /˘···· |
| Could you but see them 'neath the mantle's flap, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Wizened and worn, that once were round and fair, | 10 | /˘········ |
| When kings lay in my lap. | 6 | ······ |
| 'Tis, "O my God" with me, | 6 | ······ |
| Many prayers said, yet more prayers left undone; | 9 | /······˘/ |
| If I could spread my garment in the sun | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| I'd say them, every one. | 7 | ···/˘˘· |
| The sea-wave talks, | 4 | ···· |
| Athwart the frozen earth grim winter stalks; | 10 | ˘/·/˘··/˘· |
| Young Fermod, son of Mugh, ne'er said me nay, | 10 | ·········· |
| Yet he comes not to-day. | 6 | ······ |
| How still they row, | 4 | ···· |
| Oar dipped by oar the wavering reeds among, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| To Alma's shore they press, a ghostly throng, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Deeply they sleep and long. | 6 | /˘···· |
| No lightsome laugh | 4 | ·/˘· |
| Disturbs my fireside's stillness; shadows fall, | 11 | ˘/·/˘·/˘/·· |
| And quiet forms are gathering round my hearth, | 9 | ·/··/˘··· |
| Yet lies the hand of silence on them all. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| I do not deem it ill | 6 | ······ |
| That a nun's veil should rest upon my head; | 10 | ·········· |
| But finer far my feast-robe's various hue | 9 | ·/····/˘· |
| To me, when all is said. | 6 | ······ |
| My very cloak grows old; | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Grey is its tint, its woof is frayed and thin; | 10 | ·········· |
| I seem to feel grey hairs within its fold, | 10 | ·········· |
| Or are they on my skin? | 6 | ······ |
| O happy Isle of Ocean, | 7 | ·/˘··/˘ |
| Thy flood-tide leaps to meet the eddying wave | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Lifting it up and onward. Till the grave | 10 | /˘···/˘··· |
| The sea-wave comes not after ebb for me. | 10 | ·········· |
| I find them not | 4 | ···· |
| Those sunny sands I knew so well of yore; | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Only the surf's sad roar sounds up to me, | 10 | /˘········ |
| My tide will turn no more. | 6 | ······ |
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