Shamrocks :: :: University of Virginia Library

Then, while the clansmen stood all helpless by,
And the bound chieftains writhed in despair,
Thither came Deirdre, the King's messenger,
Flying o'er hilltops and the mountains high,
Like the swift blast of a pure wind at play,
Or like a swallow on an April day.

Who wrung her hands, beholding, for she knew
That in all Erin from green sea to sea,
None could release them save the glorious Three
Unto themselves and to each other true;
Whose love, exceeding great through good and ill,
Held them as one man with a single will.

Then she bade set the hounds free, and they sped,
Coursing with jaws still wet with young fawn's blood,
On like a torrent, till in that green wood,
In a cave's heart, they found the hero's bed,
And rent it, and next morn at break of day,
Lo! the tired quarry, faint but fierce at bay.

And Diarmuid slew the great beasts, and despair
Fell on the King's men, and those chiefs he bound
Died of their bonds, and in green-sodded ground
Fionn buried them, and writ the Ogham there;
And went henceforth most heavy in heart and sore,
And thirsted for the knight's death more and more.

There was a quicken-tree that had strange power:
He who should eat three berries of that tree
Henceforth from pain and sickness should go free;
Eating thereof, the old regained youth's flower;
Like the red wine it gladdened, or rich mead.
'Twas a great race of wizards sowed that seed.

Terrible was the giant who kept guard
Over that tree—a son of wicked Cam,
Crooked-tusked, red-eyed, horned like a ram,

Holding all evil magic in his ward,
So he was proof 'gainst water, sword, or brand;
Round his swart body was an iron band.

Right in the midst of his black face was set
One wicked eye: a club hung by his side;
And it was said three blows upon his hide
From that same club would overthrow him yet.
In the top branches all night would he stay,
And pace around the tall tree all the day.

Miles of the land he had made desolate;
Fionn and his Fenians dare not hunting go
Into the wardship of this evil foe.
But Diarmuid's hunting-booth stood by his gate;
And Diarmuid chased the tall red deer a-foot,
With never a wish to taste that magic fruit.

There was a clan owed eric unto Fionn,
And he would have of them my hero's head,
Or else a handful of the berries red;

And the two chiefs who sought his peace to win,
Following my Diarmuid, combated with him,
Who overthrew and bound them limb by limb.

But when his lady took a sick desire
To taste the tree, he would not say her “Nay:”
So he came walking where the giant lay,
And touched him with his foot and woke his ire.
Lo! the great bulk rose up a mountain high,
And the great roar of anger shook the sky

So that the birds fell. Then the giant's stroke
Struck down the knight, who staggered to his knee,
Though the shield sheltered him; but speedily
He sprung, and clasped that body like an oak,
And twisted round the strong band's iron girth;
And he and that fierce warrior rolled to earth.

But Diarmuid clutched the club with a dead man's hold—
He was above—their struggles shook the ground;
Locked like young bulls, the mountains miles around
Echoed the roars that turned the land's heart cold;
The dust they raised hung three days in the air;
The giant's heels scooped out a valley there.

But with a swing that club did Diarmuid take,
And beat upon his brains and scattered them:
In a great grave beside the tree's slight stem
He laid that bulk with speed for Grainne's sake,
Lest she should see it lying so, and quail
In all her woman's heart, and ail and fail.

And brought her then, and gathered the red fruit
To please her; and those knights he had o'erthrown
He brought likewise, and drew the branches down,
And bade them take what now might win their suit.
“Take them to Fionn,” he said, “and spare my head,
And for my foes be henceforth friends instead.”

But those two warriors, coming then to Fionn,
Deceived him not, for well he knew whose deed
Had rid him of that monster and his breed,
And he forgave not them their tribal sin;
But gathered round his army speedily,
And marched in haste to find that quicken-tree.

And, coming, saw not Diarmuid and his love;
High in the tree-top, in the giant's lair,
They were in hiding, and the day was fair,

And hot and strong the noon-day sun above;
So he encamped, and round the army lay,
While with his knights at chess the King would play.

And Diarmuid, leaning, watched the game he loved,
And saw that Ossian paused with puzzled frown;
Then from his height he flung a berry down
To mark which way the chessmen should be moved;
And Fionn looked up, and mocked and called his name,
Crying, “Come down and judge for us the game.”

And so three times, and grew the great King's wrath,
His restless fingers trifled with his sword;
For every time the berry struck the board
He lost that game. “What skill our Ossian hath,
When Oscar this and that way guides,” said he,
“And Diarmuid prompts him from the quickentree!”

Then Diarmuid grew defiant, being at bay,
And rose and took his lady, sweet and tall,
And kissed her lips three times before them all.

But the King, seeing, mocked no more that day.
“Twice have my seven battalions seen,” he said,
“Now and before, but thou shalt lose thy head.”

He set four hundred in a standing ring
About the tree, that none should pass their hands,
And offered with reward of men and lands
To whoso should ascend, and slay, and bring
That slain head down, his armour and his sword,
And a chief's place by field and council-board.

Then there were nine tall brothers standing by,
Whose father Diarmuid's slew, and they would go
And seek to take his head, avenging so
That ancient wrong. The first clomb speedily.
But Angus in his fairy home had heard
The tidings from a small white singing bird.

And on the east wind he came sailing fast,
And lighted by the twain in the tree-top,
And looked and saw that daring knight come up,
And gave him Diarmuid's shape, and him down cast;
Then as he fell Fionn's hirelings ran full fleet
And beat his brains out at their master's feet.

But, being dead, his own shape came again,
And there was grief to see what they had done.
Then with more fury went the second one
On his ill quest, and in like wise was slain;
So the King's men slew all the noble nine,
And ended mournfully that ancient line.

Then Angus carried Grainne by his art
Far from that place; and Diarmuid, wild to see
All that were slain for him, wept bitterly,
With death and desolation in his heart.
“I will come down to thee, O King,” he said;
“Slay me to-morrow or to-day instead;

“I care not, seeing I stand so much alone;
A man has need of comrade men, and friends
Foes have I many since to serve thine ends
And guard thee I have slain full many a one:
And my love's heart is soft and slight to bear
My manhood up; I shall grow soft like her.”

Then Oscar stood before the King's dark frown:
“Let him go free—he well hath won his wife;
Thou hast no knight his equal, and this life

Will go for his if he comes bravely down.”
And he called softly up the quicken-tree,
“Come, then, dear brother, Oscar stands with thee.”

And more reproaches cast he to the King,
Whose knights caught up their shining skenes to hear,
And gathered dark-browed. Flew through air his spear,
Its sharp cry like the night-wind's flying wing,
Or like the roaring waters rushing on
Over the black brows of a wall of stone.

But Fionn was sad and silent, and the swords
Fell from fierce hands, and meanwhile Diarmuid passed
Out by his spears perhaps an arrow's cast
Beyond that host, and heard there Oscar's words,
And watched him coming sad and sorrowfully
Out from those knights he never more might see.

Who came where Diarmuid was, and kissed his cheek
And hand-in-hand they went with drooping head,
For each true manly heart was heavy as lead,
And only once that hour did Oscar speak:
“Mighty is Fionn, and wise, invincible;”
And Diarmuid, “Brother, thou hast spoken well.”

The mountain ash.

Compensation, under the Brehon laws, for crime or injury done.