University of Virginia Library

Swift cleaving through the midmost wave that roars
'Tween woody Erin and fair Alba's shores,
The galleys swam, as sank the saffron light
Of the third day on ocean's bosom bright,
Shimmering along the glittering golden spray
To Ulad's windy forelands far away.
As from the north when Winter 'gins his reign,
The giant whales plough south the yielding main
In a great shoal, to reach the warmer seas
That wash wild Orkney's isles and Hebrides,—
With heads unerring pointed towards their goal,
O'er the wide waste careers the mighty shoal
Behind their King, the huge bull whale, whose track
Gleams with white spray, far furrowing ocean's back;
So the fleet clove the billows, following
The great war galley of the conquered King,
Upon whose deck the brothers stood, while she,—
The loved one,—with her child sat smilingly
Amidst them on her carvèd brazen chair.
Over the royal deck, around them there,
Barbaric shone the trophies of the fight,—
Round-rimmed, emblazoned shields and swords of might,
Mantles of many colors, white and green,
Saffron and blue, and scarlet's dazzling sheen,
Bales of bright silks torn by pirate hands
From the sacked towns of weeping southern lands,
Great spears bedecked with many a golden stud,
And helms and mail-shirts still unwashed of blood.

With Deirdrè sat her maids,—Fingalla fair,
And blue-eyed Aoifè of the nut-brown hair.
Lightly they laughed with many a merry wile
And prank and look to win the baby's smile,
Who danced himself upon his mother's knee
And laughed in turn, and crowed full lustily.
And Naisi, looking on them, felt the sweet
Of life make all his pulses warmly beat,
And his great heart o'erfill with thankfulness
To the Almighty Gods who, from distress
And life-long trouble and despair and moan,
Work joy to mortals, when all hope seems gone!
Then turned the hero round, and walked full slow
Astern, wherefrom through sunset's fading glow
The far Ulidian capes he still could see
Upraise their windy foreheads. Silently
Like one adream he gazed on them the while
With yearning heart, till died the day's last smile,
And o'er the gray sea crept the silent night
With the pale moon and stars all diamond bright
Sparkling upon the waters, and the breeze
Freshened apace, and o'er the swelling seas,
Incessant, the white steeds of Mananan
Chased his black galley o'er the waters wan.

And all that night they sailed, and as they sped
Upon their right passed many a towering head
Of hill and cape and many a lonely strand
And forest of the wild Cantyrian land.
And now within the east the shining dawn
Clomb up the sky, and leafy brake and lawn,
Low-lying mead and purple highland tract,
Dell, stream, and gorge, and vapory cataract
Of the strange land, both near and far away,
Crept out of night's black shadow into day;
And the breeze lulled, and from his vermeil bed
The sun upraised his glorious, gladsome head
And looked with smile benign o'er earth and sea.
'Neath the fresh morn the Usnanians joyously
Still onward sailed, till 'tween two headlands gray
They steered into a lovely, land-locked bay,
Where on their left the mountains rose full high
From the blue water to the bluer sky,
Robed in red heath and mosses golden brown.
Far on their front, a mighty stream flung down
Its waters through the great gorge it had made
To the calm bay, in many a bright cascade,
Now lost in groves of pine, now shadowèd
By some steep crag that reared its hoary head,
Hail-hammered by the storms of centuries,
High o'er the forest. On their right, the breeze
Curled the light wavelets to the sloping strand
That lay 'tween water and the grassy land,—
Green, grassy land whereon the autumn flowers
Glittered o'er glade and lawn, as gleam the showers
Of falling stars on some far boreal sea;—
There o'er the sward the lovely rowan tree
Drooped with its clusters all vermilion red
Of berries bright, and high its tapering head
The larch uplifted, and the silver bolls
Of birches glimmered from their ferny knolls;
And the great oak-tree and the giant pine,
Girt with green ivy or the woodland vine,
Grew here and there in all their majesty;
And the dark holly shone, and gracefully
The slender ash in spots stood all alone,
Like a coy virgin. Onward, thicker grown,
Spread nut-woods, merging in a forest vast
Where red deer ranged and wild boars crunched the mast,
And the gray wolf and savage bear abode.
Bright over all the saffron morning glowed
With genial ray that made the wild-birds sing
In that fair place and joy rule every thing.

Now on the galleys' sides the warriors' shields,
Locked rim by rim, displayed their shining fields
To the glad sun with fair emblazonery;
And o'er their glittering edges one could see
Of maids and children many a gleesome face
Look with delight upon that lovely place,
And on broad deck and poop their elders stand
In eager converse, each with pointed hand
Stretched towards green glade or dell that semblance bore
To some loved spot upon their native shore.
And, as they stood, they heard the loud command
Of Naisi ringing over sea and land,
Soon followed by the merry sailors' song,
As noisily the well-ranged fleet along
They cast the anchors and the oars drew in,
And furled the sails; then fast the joyful din
Increased and drowned the song the shipmen sung;
The children laughed, and many an old dame's tongue
Wagged voluble; the great hounds bayed, the plash
Of lowering boats was heard; the ring and clash
Of armor sounded as the warriors took
Their shields from off the bulwarks strong, and shook
Their spears with gladness. Midway to the shore
Dark Naisi's boat full fast now plied the oar,
With its lov'd freight; and as they neared the strand,
Shouting his war-shout, Ardan sprung to land,
Striding full swift the wave-washed space to pass,
And struck his spear-butt through the woven grass
Into the woodland earth, and left it there,
Its rings and broad blade shining high in air;
Then turned again unto the boat, and bore
In his strong arms young Gaier along the shore
To the green spot where towered his mighty spear.
There stood he smiling as his kin drew near,
And blithely said, “O sister! brothers mine!
Look on this lovely land, this sun benign
Laughing good omen on us from the skies!
Be sure, in after time, in goodly wise
Our kingdom here o'er all the land shall spread,
Won by our might; and when the years have fled
Prosperous for us, and we are old and gray,
This little hand the regal rod shall sway!”
Now in the pleasant afternoon the feet
Of the great tribe had pressed the grasses sweet
Of the fair sunny woodland, save of those
The shipmen left behind. The long repose
Of the sweet pleasance now seemed lost alway;—
Loud bayed the fierce hounds to the charger's neigh;
With shrilly scream the royal ger-falcon
Fluttered his wings the mail-clad wrist upon,
Glad at the woodland sights; the cheery sound
Of mallets echoed, in the thymy ground
Driving the tent-pegs; while from tree to tree
The children played and shouted joyfully.
Whereat an ancient raven who had seen
Long centuries within that woodland green,
By man untroubled, on his aged oak
From his sweet noontide slumber now awoke
And shook himself, and slowly 'gan to draw
Across his reverend head his wrinkled claw,
And winked his wise old eyes, and looking out
Through the thin branches saw the joyous rout
With all its social sounds; then suddenly
He spread his wings, far, far away to flee
In dudgeon dire to other woods remote!

There, ere the winter winds the hillside smote,
They built their mighty dun, with earthen mound
And watery ditch tri-circled round and round,
Strong-gated and compact; and with great toil
Therein they gathered all the woodland spoil:
Fish, with their trawling nets spread long and wide
They reft in myriads from the teeming tide
Of sea and stream; and deftly did they take
The fowl in many a flock from wood and lake;
They slew the brown bear in his forest hoar,
Within his nut-strewn wood the savage boar,
And out on mountain sides and moorlands brown
The dun bull and his herd they hunted down
With food-providing spears; while hawk and hound
Made joyous tumult through the wildwoods round,
Chasing the heron and far-bounding deer
To sound of horn and huntsman's merry cheer.

And now hoar Winter, where the friendly Star
That guides the wandering galley shines afar
In the bright zenith fixt, his storehouse vast
Of feathery crystals opened; and the blast
That guards the Pole, let loose, his pinions light
Spread out wide winnowing one silent night
O'er isle and continent the pearly snow,
Till morning rose, and solemnly and slow
The great flakes still fell down. Within the dun
The gleeful children round began to run,
And clapped their little hands and cried, “The geese!
The wild geese shed their feathers!” fleece on fleece
Of the soft floss falling upon their play,—
And falling, falling all the livelong day
And all the night till the next morning came,
And for the first time, gay with golden flame,
The sun arose unwelcomed by the bills
Of tuneful birds or sounds of murmuring rills.

Within her chamber sat the mother fair,
Her loved ones by her, as the stilly air
Of that calm day was darkening into night;
And ne'er on looks more gladsome fell the light
Of lamp, or ruddy fire of hearth, than theirs.
And well forgotten now seemed all their cares,—
So well, that in the warm and social gleam
Of the bright fire the embers 'gan to seem
To each glad eye arranged in castles gay,
And landscapes of delight where life's young May
Was all calm sunshine and fair blossoming,
Untouched by past or future's bitter sting!
And yet, 'mongst all the brightness, still there lay
A shadow upon Deirdrè's soul, whose sway
Showed its fell presence, though infrequently,
In this wise: once her child upon her knee
She took from Aoifè's arms, and placed her hand
On his young noble head, and curious scanned
His eyes, as though she sought to find therein
Some impress of the Doom of death and sin
By Caffa prophesied; and finding nought
But life and laughter, inward turned her thought,
As if communing with the Gods awhile;
Then looked again and met the infant's smile,
And bent her down and kissed him silently,
And murmured to herself, “'Twixt Them and me
I place thee, O my babe!”

And now she took
Her husband's hand, and with a joyful look
Said, “Here perchance our days may all be glad!—
In the world's life are mixed the Good, the Bad,
For man's own choosing, and who chooseth well
Wins happiness. O love, what tongue can tell
The dangers thou hast conquered to attain
This haven of our rest from fear and pain?
Then steadfast keep thy mind to tempt no more
New dangers, and upon this friendly shore
Our lives may pass, and love triumphant be
O'er the King's wrath and Caffa's prophecy!”

Then Naisi smiled, and, “Fear not, love!” he said.
“No weakly tribe were we when sore bested,
Nor feebler now in peace to hold our own
In this strange land, than our sires dead and gone,
Whose valiant maxim was, through great and small,
‘Fight Danger on his own side of the wall!’”
With hand still clasped in hers, “O peerless one!”
He cried again, “look on thy little son.
May the Gods calm through him thy strange alarm,
And with his infant wiles thy soul so charm
To happiness, that thou may'st all forget
Thy boding fears; though never spok'st thou yet
But that some Godhead utterance seemed to find
From thy sweet mouth. O best of womankind,
Well sayest thou Good is gain, and Evil loss,
And wild Ambition's fruit but bitter dross,
And Love the flower of life, the priceless gift
The Gods the brave bestow whose swords are swift
To guard it, and whose hearts Adversity
Can conquer not, nor fire, air, earth, or sea,
Divide from the belov'd!”

Now brooding came
Night's wings on earth inwrought with starry flame,
And round the Dun hushed every sound, save those
That from the merry banquet-hall arose.
Round the fair chamber all had gathered there,
Rury the Bard to hear, whose silvered hair,
Thrown back, displayed his forehead broad and white
High-domed above his rapt eyes jewel-bright,
And noble face and flowing beard of snow.
With the six royal colors all aglow
His ample garments shone, as preluding
His epic song, he touched the sounding string.
Usna's Arch Bard was he. And first he sang
The Song of Conquest: how the island rang
With sound of warring storms and demon cries,
And magic thunders bellowing through the skies;
And how the Three Seas donned their robes of mist
Made by the Danaans, and how roared and hissed
The huge waves, heaved aloft to hide the coast
From Miled's sons and the Milesian host
With unavailing clamor; how the fray
Raged by the southern shore the livelong day;
How Fas the Fair was slain, and how she died
Who sleeps within the cool glen by the side
Of the gray sea,—Scota the Flower-bright Queen,
Whose lonely grave in summer sparkles sheen
With many a fragrant blossom in that dell
Of wild Sleemis the Windy; and how fell
'Neath the Milesian spears in Tailti's fight
The regal sons of Kermad, and the might
Of Miled's seed won Erin's sovereignty,
From Toth's loud wave to Cleena's murmuring sea!
And thus each night he sang some ancient lay,
And thus within the Dun time passed away
Till three moons waned and all the snows were gone,
And velvet catkins on the willow shone
By lowland streams, and on the hills the larch
Scented with odorous buds the winds of March.

One glimpse of Spring to pass away too soon!—
Out from the iron East, one afternoon,
A wind arose full chilly, and began
With blighting breath the tender twigs to fan,
And through the pine woods make its bitter moan,
With power each day waxed stronger, as if blown
From the fell mouth of fast-pursuing Fate,
Continuous, till the groves were desolate,
And hill and dale, of every living thing,
And tender bud and blossom of the spring.
And now the chase no more its guerdon gave,
And as the wildwood barren was the wave,
While blew that poisoned breeze; and cheeks grew white
Within the Dun, for Hunger there 'gan bite
The tribe with bitter fangs. Then one drear day
With five score champions Naisi strode away
Eastward along the hillsides, with the sword
To win them food. As troops a savage horde
Of wolves in winter, questing for their prey
O'er the low plains from Crotta's mountains gray
With gnashing teeth and wild red roving eyes,
So stalked they forth. Within the leaden skies
The sun sank cheerless, and with wannish flame
Arose next morn, but still no tidings came
Of the bold absent ones.

“O brother brave,”
Then Ardan cried to Ainli, “by what wave,
Or wood, or hill, or town of this strange land,
Doth Naisi lift the long spear in his hand
And show the golden Osprey on his shield?
Perchance, full hard bested on fell or field,
O'er the bright orb he fearless eyes the foe,
In war's hot barter changing blow for blow.
Go thou and find, and aid him at his need.”

Joyful young Ainli donned his warlike weed
Of bull-hide strong, well fenced with scales of brass,
And striding fierce went through the eastern pass,
And showed the Hill Cat gleaming on the boss
Of his broad shield o'er many a moor and moss,
Followed by four score champions. From the height
Over the bay came down the gloomy night,
Her ancient plumes by kindly dews unwet;
And morning rose, but brought no tidings yet
To Ardan, who, ere noon, with three score men
Brass-panoplied marched through the eastern glen
Grimly and stern. Full many a hill and wold
Saw the great fighting Boar of graven gold
Glittering upon his shield as he went on,
Till on his broad strong back the evening sun
Glanced red against the buff-coat's brazen scales,
And from a shaggy height that o'er the vales
Rose towering, he looked down and saw a sight
That filled his valiant heart with fierce delight.

Beneath him, scarce an arrow flight away,
Fenced round by rocks and trees, a hollow lay,
With one rough outlet, steep, of narrow span,
Wherethro' in foam a shallow torrent ran
With bickering voice. Now o'er the torrent's bed
And the small path that by its waters led
From th' outward plain, with loud-resounding din
A mighty herd of kine came driving in,
Filling the hollow. High the steam arose
From their perspiring backs, like that which shows
Its rolling mists at morn o'er Gada's mere
Amid the young spring meadows, when the year
Dries its last hoar-frost in the risen sun
And dim-seen cattle round the pastures run!
Up the rough narrow pathway, like the wind
Strode Naisi's men, the maddened rout behind;
While he, three full rods at their rearward, came
With haughty front and threatening eye of flame,
Turning betimes upon the foe that pressed
Close on his footsteps, o'er his mighty breast
His shield upraised, and by his towering head
His huge spear poised with blade all purple red
From the fresh gore it spilt; so turns the bear
Whom hunters fighting follow to his lair
With deafening clamor up some desert pass
Where Sulitelma rears its snow-white mass
High o'er Norwegian woods;—vengeful he turns,
While the hot wrath within his red eye burns,
And furious rends with cruel teeth and claw
And savage growl the foes that nigh him draw!

And now the hollow's widening sward they gain,
And Naisi, turning, halts and shouts amain
Unto his warriors, who come rushing back
With levelled spears to guard the narrow track;
And the foe halts, and their thick press divides,
Like waves around a war-ship's shining sides,
While from the rearward, on a huge black steed
In barbarous trappings dight, with headlong speed
Loud clanging, rode a warrior grim and old,
Large-limbed, and clad in gleaming weed of gold
And brass and burnished steel: with blazing eye
He checked his steed and raised his spear on high,
And looked on Naisi full of wrath and pride,
And in a voice of thunder thus he cried:—

“Dog of a stranger! whence art thou? and where,
In this our country, buildest thou thy lair?
What thief of thieves begat thee? Art thou dumb?
Speak ere thou diest, for thine hour is come!
Ha! hear the wild cat's cry from yonder wood
With hungry clamor calling for thy blood,
And from the hill the grumbling of the boar
That soon shall dip his sharp tusks in thy gore!”
Then Naisi, hearkening, heard the signal cry,—
Hill Cat and Boar,—and knew his brothers nigh,
And at the old man shook his spear and said,—
‘Ha! likelier shall their hungry maws be fed
With flesh of thee and thine, for I am one
Whom men call Naisi, mighty Usna's son,
From Erin's northern coast. I asked for food
With kindly words from these thy followers rude,
And got but ribald speech, old man, like thine!
For them and thee the wives and maids shall pine
Of this thine Alban land; the Osprey's beak
The heart's blood in thy riven breast shall seek;
For, hark! the Wild Cat's cry draws nearer still,
And mighty Boar-Shield rushes down the hill!”
He said, and, as on high his weapon shone,
Cried, “Ware the Osprey's swoop!” and then fell on.
And scarce the whizzing spear had left his hand,
When from the ambush Ainli with his band
Rushed from the wood, and Ardan fierce and strong
At the same moment joined the struggling throng,
That for a dreadful space swayed to and fro,
In desperate conflict mixed, till far below
The stream-bed seemed as if the tumbling flood
Had torn from out its roots some wintry wood,
And swept it downward with resounding roar,
Choking its gorge and tearing all its shore
With tossing trunk and branch and flickering spray;
So raged between the cliffs the clamorous fray,
Close packed and joined in one great whelming wave
Of struggling men and bickering spear and glaive!

Sharp was the onset, short the battle roared:
The foe went down before the Usnanian sword;
The foaming torrent ran with bloody stain,
The vanquished fled, the victors spoiled the slain,
And no fierce captives took save him alone,
Aran, the aged chief of high Dunthrone,
Whom Naisi tore from off his snorting steed
'Mid the thick battle press. Then with the speed
Of a wild wind of March they swept away
Through the rough glens, exulting, with their prey,
And reached the Dun as the first beams of morn
Rose in the east and lit the hills forlorn.

Great was the triumph, loud the mirth and glee,
Within the Dun that gallant sight to see;
Out to the gate came Deirdrè with her boy,
And in her husband's arms returning joy
Sparkled within her eyes of heavenly blue,
And to her cheeks restored the roses' hue.
And, as around the throng her glances ran,
With pity fell they on the grim old man,
Aran the captive, in his golden dress
Now soiled and rent from out the battle press.
No drooping captive he: haughty he stood,
Straight as a pine stem in Glenara's wood;
Yet, as he met her glance, the hostile glare
Left his fierce eyes and a kind look came there;
And turning unto Naisi wonderingly,—
“Now, by the Gods!” he cried, “what men be ye,
Who, while this night my bitter tongue did burn
With words of rage, gave kind ones in return?
Whose women, like this peerless wife of thine,
Look on my hapless state with eyes benign?
Why slay me not? as erst by Solway's shore
I slew the Roman knight this hauberk wore,
And spoiled him of his golden finery
Even when the fight was won; for I am he,
Aran of high Dunthrone, whose northern blade
In Rome's firm ranks the first red havoc made,
When by my side our King, now tall and strong
As thou art, then a stripling, all day long
Fought with his hand lashed to the sword's bright hilt,
Fearing to lose his grasp; and redly gilt
Were hand and sword ere ending of that field,
For well I taught him 'neath the Roman shield
To plant his steel within the Roman heart.
Then slay me! slay! and let my soul depart
Unto the mighty Gods who love the brave,
Rather than live in bonds and die a slave!”

“No slave art thou!” said Naisi: “we were taught
Reverence for age and valor. Dearly bought
The knowledge comes to youth that with it brings
Contempt for such as thou. In all fair things
Our guest thou art: or now even thou art free
To go back to thy King, whoe'er he be!”

Great feast they made: the fat flesh of the spoil
On spits did smoke, in brazen cauldrons boil,
And a sweet steam arose, and red wine flowed
Till the third morning o'er the mountains glowed.
Then from their ships a coat of mail they brought
With bright brass blazing and with gold inwrought,
A hawk, a hound, a war-horse snowy-white
With golden selle and purple trappings dight,
A royal brooch, a cloak of scarlet fold,
A broad-orbed shield rimmed round with graven gold,
A sword with many a jewel glittering,
And sent them as a peace-gift to the King,
With the old chief, who, as he rode away,
Still dubious said, “What kind of men be they?”

The days went on: soft sunny showers of rain
Sprinkled the barren ridge and parchèd plain,
And wild flowers oped their lovely painted bells,
And grass grew green, and birds sang in the dells,
And all was glad when the ninth morning burned
Over the hills, and the old lord returned
With many a gift, and message kind to come
To the King's house and find therein a home.

Then Naisi left the fourth part of his host
Ward over fleet and Dun, and from the coast
Moved inland three days' march, and ere the night
Of the third day camped 'neath a woody height
In a green dell, wherethro' a murmuring stream
Ran with its bordering meadows all agleam
With new-sprung vernal flowers. Then Deirdrè said:
“By some fair-seeming fortune we are led,
O Naisi, through this land; but take thou heed
Where want of foresight or mishap may lead.
This wild King hath no wife: some day perchance
My luckless face may meet his ardent glance,
And danger follow, O fond love, to thee,
And parting from thine arms and death to me!
Then reach his town beneath the night's dark shade,
And 'neath the darkness be our campment made,
And in the tents conceal us women all,
Ere thou goest up unto the great King's hall.”

And so 'twas done. One day's march lay between
The King's fair palace and that woodland green;
And, as the next night's darkness gathered down,
They pitched their camp outside the royal town.
Then morning's splendor came; and Naisi rose,
And with his brothers ten stout warriors chose,
Armed as for battle, for his following,
And left his tents and went before the King.

Now young this King was, as old Aran said;
Impulsive, proud and brave, and still unwed;
And, trained since childhood 'mid the clash of spears,
Was wise in war, though scarce of Naisi's years.
Handsome he was, and knit in giant mould;
Broad were his brows; his hair, like swarthy gold,
From its bright circlet fell with tawny stain
O'er his strong shoulders like a lion's mane;
Haughty the look within his large gray eye
As the young eagle's on the mountain high;
Rich were the robes he wore with kingly grace;
And like a ruddy morning was his face.
And now, as 'mid his armèd nobles all,
He saw the Usnanians striding up the hall,
His bold brow flushed a little, and the sheen
Of valor in his eye grew warm and keen,
As though some quick thought swelled his heart with pride
Of great deeds yet with them done side by side,
On fields where young men mighty of their hands
Love the wild war-shout and the clash of brands.
Graceful he rose, and on his royal chair
Placed his strong hand and paused a moment there,
Till glittering bright before him Naisi stood
With his tall band.

“O rover of the wood,
That knowest so well,” he said, “to rob and slay
In this our realm, now what hast thou to say?”

He smiled, yet at the question Naisi's eye
Sparkled full stern before he made reply,
“But this,” he answered: “place thine enemies,
O King, before us, and the self same breeze
That fans thy banner let it blow on ours;
And be they Roman ranks, or Northern powers,
That face us, we will give, as best we can,
Five score to feed thy wolves for every man
We slew of thine; and, as a token sure,
Take thou mine hand, that friendship may endure
Between us while the heart of Honor beats!”

Bright the King smiled, and said, “The hand that meets
Thine other than in friendship firm must be,
And doubly armed against adversity;
And thus I take thine hand, and thus I say,
Well met, O comrade, on this lucky day!”

Now scarce the April moon's pale light had gone,
When in the sun the warlike banners shone
Of King and prince; and many a battle tide
With conquering swords the twain stemmed side by side,
Each well-fought field but adding strength the more
To the hot friendship each the other bore,
Till one full year had passed in joy away,
And fields were white with daisies of the May.

It chanced upon a morn of early spring,
When flowers began to bloom and birds to sing,
That Starn, the royal Steward, passing by
The camp of Usna, cast his prying eye
On Deirdrè, as she sat beneath a tree
Outside her tent door. Long and curiously
He eyed her from the grove wherein he stood,
Then walked away in silent gladsome mood,
Like one who by a lucky chance hath found
Some treasure rare long hidden underground.
Yet said he nought until the King came home
From hostile shores washed by the North Sea's foam,
Where he and his and Usna's host imbrued
Their spears in blood, and many a tribe subdued.
Then went he to the King.

“Now by thy head!
And by my father's hand, O King!” he said,
“The gem of gems I've found thee. I have seen
In Usna's camp bright Beauty's peerless queen,
The wife of Naisi,—beautiful beyond
All youth's imaginings or day-dreams fond,—
Yea! yea! so beautiful that I—even I—
Stood for a moment in wild ecstasy
And blessed the Gods that made her! Take her then
Unto thy throne, and slay these stranger men
In open hall, or bid me privately
To slay them!”

But the King said, “Far from me,
O Starn! be that fell day when Friendship's band
And Honor's law I break with mine own hand.
Then tempt me not.”

But Starn said, “Though the blood
Within thy heart from childhood frozen stood,
'Twould melt, O King, before her face divine,
And run through all thy veins like boiling wine!
But go thyself. Watch from the grove and see,
Then try and measure what thy love shall be!”

And the King sought the grove himself, and saw;
And Friendship's sacred tie and Honor's law,
And fear and shame, and sense of wrong and right,
Fled from his maddened bosom at the sight,
And in their stead there burned a raging flame
Of blindfold love no power on earth could tame.
“O Starn,” he said, “go seek her privily,
And promise all a queen should have from me!”

One morn while King and prince a hosting made
Far in the west; while every grove and glade
Around the camp with fragrant bloom was bright
Of daisies, primroses, and shamrocks white,
And hyacinths that with their trembling bells
Like a blue robe from heaven shone down the dells,
Twinkling with diamond dew-drops,—to the screen
Of the sweet grove the old man came unseen,
And looked, and by the tent found Deirdrè there,
Sitting and weaving flowers in garlands fair
To crown her little boy, who on her knee
Laughed in the dancing shadows of the tree
That o'er them spread, rustling with young birds' wings.

“Sweet is the song each bird of beauty sings
To him that owns it,” Starn thought, as he came
Out from the grove and told his tale of shame
And purpose dread. Then rose the loyal wife,
Grasping her babe full firm.

“Now, by thy life,
O aged dog!” she cried, “come here no more!
Thy little King! Upon our native shore
The true hand of a King worth ten like thine
I cast away for this brave lord of mine!
Begone! and leave me to my thoughts alone!”
He fled, and sinking down she made her moan,
Clasping her child and rocking to and fro
In trembling fear and new-awakened woe!

Four days before the Baeltin Feast, at noon
The hosts returned in triumph, and full soon
Went Starn unto the King and told his tale,
Whereat the monarch's brow with wrath grew pale,
And ten times stronger his hot bosom strove
With thoughts of vengeance and unlawful love.
And fierce he cried:

“O Starn, come woe or weal,
Usna shall fall beneath the Alban steel
Before to-morrow's light!”

“Nay, nay, O King!”
Old Starn replied. “The Baeltin feast will bring
The hour to slay them, when unguardedly
They sit around the board and in their glee
Quaff the red wine within thy royal hall:
Then let them feel the Alban sword and fall,
Else, by the Gods! full stern shall be the fight
Ere they are slain!”

But on that very night,
When Naisi knew the Alban's treacherous mind,
He struck his camp, and left the town behind
Full many a mile ere rose the morning ray,
As westward to his fleet he made his way.
Three days they marched in thunder, for they knew
No safety now but o'er the ocean blue
To spread their sails and seek another coast
Would shield them from the King's pursuing host;
And on the third day, at the evening hour,
With thankful hearts beheld the mountains tower
Over the friendly bay, that on its breast
Painted each precipice from foot to crest;
They saw their numerous galleys side by side
Ranged in fair order on the glassy tide,
The groves, the gorge, the gleaming torrent run,
The bloom-bright woodland, and the smoking Dun
Wherein full many a festal fire did burn.
Glad was the shout that welcomed their return
From that part of the host with forethought meet
They left behind to guard both Dun and fleet,
And who from shore and wood came thronging now
Round the strong gate with many a leafy bough;
For this was Baeltin Eve, and brakes and bowers,
Copses and dells, were ransacked of their flowers
To deck the morrow's feast. Each gate and door
With garlands and green leaves was covered o'er;
And Naisi smiled with pleasure and amaze
When on his marshalled fleet he turned his gaze,
For there the hulls that erst were black as night
Now shone, with many an image strange bedight,
Limned in barbaric sheen of cinnabar,
And purple rich from Roman lands afar,
And from the swarthy Orient red and blue,
Primeval woad, and many another hue
Of pigments by the sailors found amid
The huge heaps of Fomorian booty hid.
Above the fleet three giant galleys rose:
Midmost Talc's mighty war-ship, and of those,—
The other twain,—one to the leftward lay,
One flaunted o'er the right its pennons gay.
Over the wave, each lofty prow upon,
Well carved and gilt, a figure-head there shone,
Made by the tribe's artificers: the left
Bore the great Hill Cat wrought with fingers deft,
Holding a silver salmon in his claw,
Young Ainli's cognizance; with open jaw,
And gleaming tusks and shaggy breast of might,
And bristling back, the Wild Boar on the right
Seemed charging sheer into the dolphin's bath;
And on the King's ship th' Osprey in his wrath
Swooped on his quarry from the cloudy height;
While like some Orient grove with blossoms bright
Of climbers' dazzling glories, wide outspread
From mast and spar, the fleet was garlanded
With sprays of green, and flowers from wood and lea,
Culled by glad hands, to grace the revelry
And games of that great Feast of bloom and mirth
That welcomed summer to the songful earth!

That night, with sharpened sense and watchful ear,
Brave Naisi slept, and morn rose calm and clear,
And the first Baelfire, lit, its tongues of flame
Tossed upward towards the bright sun whence it came;
When, all at once, a scout in headlong speed
Dashed from the east upon his foaming steed
Into the Dun, and told how through the wood,
Three leagues off, Aran came, athirst for blood,
With a great host pursuing. Wrathfully
The brothers grasped their spears, and to the sea
Betook them with their mighty tribe again;
And scarce on deck the last band of their men
Had sprung with clashing harness, when the shore
And all the wood shook with the loud uproar
Made by the Alban host now drawing nigh
In long-spread rushing ranks; so, when the sky
And wallowing sea are mixed in cloud and spray
By the wild storm upon some wintry day,
The fast high-curling surges roll amain,
Each following each, to flood the sandy plain
Of windy Rossapenna in the north!

And now from out his ranks came Aran forth,
And laughed a bitter laugh, and from the strand
At the Usnanians shook his armèd hand,
And like a trumpet cried:—

“O small-souled men!
With valor like the little water-hen,
That at the otter's plunge scuds o'er the wave
To hide its head within some reedy cave
Under the stream-bank, till the danger's o'er,—
Why leave ye in such haste this pleasant shore
Like churls, with your unfought-for, glorious prize?
Bethink ye! Better is his fate who dies
On the brave war-field, than of those who crawl
Unto their beds, and turning to the wall,
Racking in pains and writhing in despair,
Inglorious, give their base souls to the air!
Come forth then from your ships, for vain do ye
Now seek for safety on the windy sea!
There rides our valiant King with all his fleet.
Come forth then! Better on this woodland meet
The brunt of war, treading the pleasant grass,
Than meet the King and through the cold door pass
Of Death, to feed the dwellers of the wave!
Come forth and fight!”

“Enough and more we gave,
O vain old man, to thee in yonder wood
Of fight before!” cried Naisi, as he stood
High on the Osprey's poop. “Enough and more,
Whilst thou stand'st watching vainly on the shore,
Thy King shall get within this very bay!
For see! Between the capes his pennons play,
In the wind's teeth advanced a goodly span.
Now mark thou well thy monarch's fate, old man,
Meeting the bitter edge of Usna's steel
With other hands than friendly!”

Like the peal
Of the loud clarion ere the valiant cross
Their bickering swords with shields faced boss to boss
On the red field of war, from left to right
Of the long fleet rang Naisi's voice of might,
Ordering his battle. Loud the capstan's groan
Shipping the anchors; strong the broad sails blown
Swelled their white bellies to the sunny ray;
Out flew the oars, to wreaths of hissing spray
Churning the waters with well-measured sweep;
And the fleet moved, first slowly, on the deep,
Till gathering strength at last along the main
It swept, far furrowing all the watery plain!

And now, as at the morn from Ennel's lake
In a great flock the whirring wild-fowl break,
And first confused climb up the brightening sky,
Then in a long line range themselves on high,
With sounding wings stemming the ether blue;
So the Albanian fleet together drew
Embattled from the far-off gleaming strait,
Swift moving up to meet the doubtful fate
Of combat on the unstable waste of brine;
While, on the other side, the Usnanian line
Swept toward them, till a well-flung javelin cast
Might count the space 'tween hostile mast and mast.
Then both sides paused, with back-swept careful oar;
And from the King's poop, like the wild-bull's roar,
Rang his strong voice:—

“Thou seek'st an early grave,
Usnanian, 'neath the ocean's boiling wave,
Fronting me thus; though, by the Gods! I know
Thou yieldest not without a manful blow,
With high heart caring nought for death or life!
Then take thou this, first messenger of strife
Between us!”

As he said, he raised on high
His mighty hand and made his javelin fly
Shrill whizzing, till it struck the broad-orbed shield
Of Naisi nigh the midmost of its field
With a great clang, and humming glanced aside
And in the mast stuck quivering. In his pride
Of wrath and strength rushing upon his prey,
The shaggy north bear roars; so on that day
With rage fierce Naisi shouted, as he cast
His dreadful spear, that like the lightning passed
And struck the King's shield where the rim of gold
Circled the boss; a third of disc and fold
Riving away in its destructive flight;
Yet, still advanced, the remnant no less bright
Of the huge shield shone o'er the King's broad breast,
Than, sinking slow by Skellig-Mihil's crest,
Glares the great gibbous moon on Cleena's main,
When the cloud-scudding night is on the wane!

And now Rage found a voice, and either side
Thundered together: as when Wind and Tide
In adverse battle join, one furious sweeps
The Lammas floods from Blooma's far-off steeps
Down Shannon's bed: one drives with deafening roar
'Tween old Canlemy's Rock and Kerry's shore
The boiling ocean in; with high-raised back,
Spray-brindled, huge, comes on each watery wrack,
Meeting from strand to strand, in chaos dread
Wide wallowing, while the flashing clouds o'erhead
Thunder, and downward shoots the hissing sleet;
So on the swirling brine each hostile fleet
In giant conflict wrestled! For a space
With many a sharpened hook in fell embrace
Each galley clasped the other; yard and shroud
And prow and poop shot forth its deadly cloud
Of darts and arrows, while in hands of might
Over the bulwarks crossed the sword-blades bright,
And the plume dropped from cloven helm and crest,
And the long spear in many a valiant breast
Buried its brazen head. Ploughing the wave
'Gainst a strong Alban ship, the Wild Boar drave
Upon the right, fast as the fatal stone
From the sling whistles by a strong arm thrown;
And, as she neared the foe, at Ardan's call
With backward rush his champions one and all
Crowded the stern, that, sinking with their weight,
Heaved high the keel, while with a shout elate
The sailors strained at one tremendous sweep
Of their strong oars, and half-way from the deep
The Wild Boar sprang, and with a mighty stowne
High prow and sharpened keel went crashing down
Upon the foeman's deck, that sank beneath
With all its struggling crew, who scarce a breath
Three times from out their laboring breasts could draw,
When the waves closed, and Ocean's ravenous maw
Swallowed them, and ne'er gave them forth again!

Loud o'er the clash of ships and cries of men
Rose the great shout of Naisi, as he stood
High on his poop, while round him, like a wood
Of larch in Bierna shaken by the blasts,
Gathered from either side the tossing masts,
And with the King's his ship came beam to beam
Resounding, and amid the clanging stream
Of missiles sharp he caught the King's fierce eye
Glaring upon him. With another cry
Of wrath, he cast his spear, and ne'er again
The brave King's foot had pressed his native plain,
Save that an arrow stronger than the rest
Of the fell shower clashed against Naisi's breast,
And glancing, th' upraised arm unerring hit,
And through the brass and leathern harness bit,
Tearing the skin small space, enough to cast
From its true aim the spear that sounding passed
By the King's side and pierced a warrior through.

And now the King's great galley backward drew,
Swift swinging round with oars again outspread
To bring on th' Osprey's beam her armèd head.
Swung round, she stops, and then returns once more
With speed redoubling 'neath the powerful oar,
Cleaving the water in her dreadful race
'Gainst th' Osprey, that, all crowded, found no space
For turning from the shock that ne'er was given;
For like the lightning bolt that shoots from heaven
And rends some lordly castle with its flame,
Round from the left the Hill Cat plunging came,
And struck the Alban galley where the side
Bends like a shoulder forward o'er the tide,
And reft her groaning ribs in thunder, then
Backed with wide-sweeping oars to plunge again!
Needless, for through the breach the waters poured,
And 'mid the galley's hollow entrails roared;
From side to side she rocked; with dreadful yell
Flat on the broad deck many a brave man fell,
Or at the bulwark clutched full desperately,
Or from the yards plunged headlong in the sea.
Yet still the King stood calm and undismayed,
His hand upon the poop-rail as he swayed
From side to side, now low, now rising high,
Now to the Osprey's bulwark drawing nigh,
As the breach sucked the roaring waters in.
Then what in Naisi's bosom did begin
To warm it, but the brave can ever know.
With pitying eye he saw his helpless foe,
And bounded to the deck with sounding clang,
And thence upon the armèd bulwark sprang,
Grasping the shroud, and waited steadily,
Till with another roar the savage sea
Filled high the ship, that, swaying towards him, brought
Within his generous grasp the prize he sought,—
The King, who felt as by a giant torn
From the fast lowering poop, and instant borne
Over the Osprey's bulwark, snatched away
From death, for downward through the roaring spray
His ship plunged headlong, sunk before his eyes,
'Mid wrack and ruin and despairing cries!

Thus ceased the fight. Back to the woodland plain
And his great host they sent the King again;
And there the fierce old lord of strong Dunthrone
Swore, by the Gods, a death of grief and moan,
With maladies unheard of, 'mid the scorn
Of men might smite him on his bed some morn,
Long lingering, if he blamed the King! “No eye
Could look on her unmoved to win or die.
And whereso'er,” he said, “they wandering go,
War's fires shall burn and valiant blood shall flow
For love of her bright eyes and beauty rare!”

Meanwhile, with banners flaunting in the air,
The Usnanian fleet sailed out beyond the bay
'Tween the two looming capes, and all that day,
O'er ocean's billowy back, and all that night,
Joyful they sped, till at the morning bright
With saffron glory came they to an isle
Whereon eternal summer seemed to smile.
A heaven it looked, with purple-shining hills,
Sky-mirroring lakes, and ever-murmuring rills,
And flowery meads waved by the west wind's fan,
And shady woods wherethro' the wild deer ran,
And grass-green dells and valleys, all day long
Vocal with hum of bees and wild-birds' song.
And there they anchored in a sheltered cove,
And there beside a green leaf-whispering grove
They pitched their tents, and lived full joyously
While five years' moons waned o'er the silver sea.