Portrait Sitter: Tess Geraghty
by Bridget Dolan


The Wife’s Lament – An excerpt


I make this song about me full sadly my own wayfaring.
I a woman tell what griefs I had since I grew up new or old never more than now.
Ever I know the dark of my exile.
First my lord went out away from his people over the wave-tumult. 
I grieved each dawn wondered where my lord my first on earth might be.

My lord commanded me to move my dwelling here.
I had few loved ones in this land or faithful friends. 
For this my heart grieves: that I should find the man well matched to me
hard of fortune mournful of mind hiding his mood thinking of murder.

Blithe was our bearing often we vowed that but death alone would part us two
naught else. But this is turned round now . . . as if it never were our friendship.
I must far and near bear the anger of my beloved.

The man sent me out to live in the woods under an oak tree in this den in the earth. Ancient this earth hall. I am all longing.

There I may sit the summerlong day there I can weep over my exile my many hardships. Hence I may not rest from this care of heart which belongs to me ever
nor all this longing that has caught me in this life.

My lord endures much care of mind. He remembers too often a happier dwelling.
Woe be to them that for a loved one must wait in longing.

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