The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics")

The myth, whose solution is found in the last stanza of this ballad, is not peculiar to Ireland, but is found in some shape or other in every country of the Old World. The contest between truth and error, right and wrong, light and darkness, plays a prominent part in the folk-lore of Europe and Asia. This particular story is not drawn from the legends of the Irish Fianna, but is characteristic. The suit of armor known as the Corrbolg, and the sword and spear that went with it, were in the custody of Meadbh [Maev], the Sighe Queen, and it was their absence which enabled Goll, of Connaught, to overcome Cumhail, the father of the famous Fionn. As for Fear Doirche, he plays important part in Irish story, and as Fir Dorocha, the vulgar form, he is the hero of a well-known bit of demon-lore.

The Fianna were seated at banquet, with Fionn, the undaunted, at head,
And Oscur sat there on his right hand, but nothing to comrades he said.
Of the savory dishes around him, his lips and his hand took no heed,
And beside him, undrained and untasted, there stood the great beaker of mead.

Quoth Conan, the bald and the foul-mouthed: “Our Oscur is troubled, methinks;
The youth who pins faith to a woman may look for a trick from the minx.
Better that before marriage than after; in sorrow it softens the pain
To know we are free to seek others, not tethered by padlock and chain.”

Ere Oscur could rise to rebuke him, in came with nor warning nor leave,
Dust-covered and breathless and footsore, the page of the fair Lady Niav.

Low louted he there before Oscur, and this was the story he told:
“Fear Doirche has seized on my lady, and borne her away to his hold!”

Sprang the Fianna around to their weapons, so ready they were for the fray,
And quick at battle as banquet; but Fionn bade them sternly to stay:
“Though each charge on ten of the foemen, when courage a triumph compels,
Fear Doirche scorns courage and numbers, so guarded by magical spells.

“He is bound by his oath to a combat, to combat with one and no more,
The wealth of the vanquished the victor's, whenever the conflict be o'er;
And so long as that oath be unbroken, the stronghold where safely he lies,
Though a thousand may be its assailants, their stoutest of efforts defies.

“At the door of his castle a war-horn is hung for a foeman to sound;
When its notes have awakened the echoes, Fear Doirche to fight there is bound;
But nothing of doubt has the Dark-Man, no terror of spirit to feel—
Our swords are of bronze and fire-hardened, but his of invincible steel.”

“And yet will I meet him,” cried Oscur; “his spells and his steel I defy;
To rescue sweet Niav from his thraldom, I fight till I conquer or die.

Follow after who will to behold me; forbidden to aid, ye may see
If your comrade be worthy of friendship, if fit for a curadh he be.”

Strode Oscur alone, while they tarried awaiting permission of Fionn;
Through the glen, o'er the plain, past the wildwood, his feet sought the distance to win;
But when passing Cairn Gorey in silence, his hand on his well-tempered glaive,
Came a lady of ravishing beauty, the Sighe-Queen, the powerful Meadbh.

“Stay thy steps at my geasa,” she uttered; “to conquer thy foe in the fight
The arms of the Clann-Sighe are needed to match those of magical might.”
Then she struck on the three stones beside her; they opened, and forth from them came
Three dwarfs, and each one bore a burden—three dwarfs, and not one had a name.

One bore the invincible Corrbolg, and one the infallible spear,
One carried Skullbiter, the falcon—who bears it no foeman should fear.
“Take this,” said the Sighe, “for thine armor; take these for thy weapons from me;
Thus armed, thou may'st equal Fear Doirche; the rest will depend upon thee.”

Then vanished the dwarfs and their mistress. The Corrbolg by Oscur was donned,
Skullbiter he grasped with his right hand, his left twirled the spear like a wand;

Then, firm in his purpose and eager, he sped on the rough, rocky way
To the fir-studded cleft in the mountain, where Niav as a prisoner lay.

And there, at the gate of the castle, the bright, golden warhorn was hung;
A grasp! to the lips! and defiance in air to Fear Doirche was flung;
And scarce had the notes summoned echo, the echo that came as they rang,
When opened the great iron portals, and flung themselves back with a clang.

Forth came, in black armor, Fear Doirche, his magical blade in his hand;
No word left his lips, and no warning; he spake by the sweep of his brand.
And there Oscur's mouth was as speechless; he came not to talk, but to fight,
To peril his life for his lady, to do his devoir for the right.

Fear Doirche was black-haired and swarthy; his dark eyes were snake-like and cold;
Young Oscur was fair-skinned and blue-eyed; his locks in the sunshine were gold;
Fear Doirche was built like the oak-tree, the blast of the tempest to take;
Like the tall, slender ash-tree was Oscur, to bend some, but never to break.

The grey rock is smitten by lightning, and stands there unmoved by the shock;
So each in attack was the lightning, and each in resistance the rock;

And long they fought keenly and fiercely, and neither a syllable spoke,
Their blades flashing fast in the sunlight, as clashing stroke followed on stroke.

Niav stood on the rampart above them, and eagerly noted each blow;
And she cried: “Who would master Fear Doirche, to do it must never strike low!”
Oscur heard, and he pressed with more vigor; on the helmet his blows fell like rain,
And, as Fionn and the Fianna came near them, Fear Doirche fell, clave to the brain.

Came the Dark-Man's retainers all humbly, the victor's commands to receive;
And down in her ravishing beauty, there came, joy-transfigured, sweet Niav.
Though Truth had been captured by Error, stout Courage had rescued her straight;
And Courage and Truth, with the Fianna, they entered the wide castle gate.

University of Virginia Library

THE RESCUE OF NIAV.