 | Lays of the Red Branch |  |
142
THE TAIN-QUEST.
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Bear the cup to Sanchan Torpest; yield the bard his poet's meed;
What we've heard was but a foretaste; lays more lofty now succeed.
Though my stores be emptied well-nigh, twin bright cups there yet remain,—
Win them with the Raid of Cuailgne; chaunt us, Bard, the famous Tain!”
What we've heard was but a foretaste; lays more lofty now succeed.
Though my stores be emptied well-nigh, twin bright cups there yet remain,—
Win them with the Raid of Cuailgne; chaunt us, Bard, the famous Tain!”
Thus, in hall of Gort, spake Guary; for the king, let truth be told,
Bounteous though he was, was weary giving goblets, giving gold,
Giving aught the bard demanded; but, when for the Tain he call'd,
Sanchan from his seat descended; shame and anger fired the Scald.
Bounteous though he was, was weary giving goblets, giving gold,
Giving aught the bard demanded; but, when for the Tain he call'd,
Sanchan from his seat descended; shame and anger fired the Scald.
“Well,” he said, “'tis known through Erin, known through Alba, main and coast,
Since the Staff-Book's disappearing over sea, the Tain is lost:
For the lay was cut in tallies on the corners of the staves
Patrick in his pilgrim galleys carried o'er the Ictian waves.
Since the Staff-Book's disappearing over sea, the Tain is lost:
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Patrick in his pilgrim galleys carried o'er the Ictian waves.
“Well 'tis known that Erin's Ollaves, met in Tara Luachra's hall,
Fail'd to find the certain knowledge of the Tain amongst them all,
Though there there sat sages hoary, men who in their day had known
All the foremost kings of story; but the lay was lost and gone.
Fail'd to find the certain knowledge of the Tain amongst them all,
Though there there sat sages hoary, men who in their day had known
All the foremost kings of story; but the lay was lost and gone.
“Wherefore from that fruitless session went I forth myself in quest
Of the Tain; nor intermission, even for hours of needful rest,
Gave I to my sleepless searches, till I Erin, hill and plain,
Courts and castles, cells and churches, roam'd and ransack'd, but in vain.
Of the Tain; nor intermission, even for hours of needful rest,
Gave I to my sleepless searches, till I Erin, hill and plain,
Courts and castles, cells and churches, roam'd and ransack'd, but in vain.
“Dreading shame on bardship branded, should I e'er be put to own
Any lay of right demanded of me was not rightly known,
Over sea to Alba sped I, where, amid the hither Gael,
Dalriad bards had fill'd already all Cantyre with song and tale.
Any lay of right demanded of me was not rightly known,
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Dalriad bards had fill'd already all Cantyre with song and tale.
“Who the friths and fords shall reckon; who the steeps I cross'd shall count,
From the cauldron-pool of Brecan eastward o'er the Alban mount;
From the stone fort of Dun Britan, set o'er circling Clyde on high,
Northward to the thunder-smitten, jagg'd Cuchullin peaks of Skye?
From the cauldron-pool of Brecan eastward o'er the Alban mount;
From the stone fort of Dun Britan, set o'er circling Clyde on high,
Northward to the thunder-smitten, jagg'd Cuchullin peaks of Skye?
“Great Cuchullin's name and glory fill'd the land from north to south;
Deirdré's and Clan Usnach's story rife I found in every mouth;
Yea, and where the whitening surges spread below the Herdsman Hill,
Echoes of the shout of Fergus haunted all Glen Etive still.
Deirdré's and Clan Usnach's story rife I found in every mouth;
Yea, and where the whitening surges spread below the Herdsman Hill,
Echoes of the shout of Fergus haunted all Glen Etive still.
“Echoes of the shout of warning heard by Usnach's exiled youths,
When, between the night and morning, sleeping in their hunting booths,
Deirdré dreamt the death-bird hooted; Naisi, waking wild with joy,
Cried, ‘A man of Erin shouted! welcome Fergus son of Roy!’
When, between the night and morning, sleeping in their hunting booths,
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Cried, ‘A man of Erin shouted! welcome Fergus son of Roy!’
“Wondrous shout, from whence repeated, even as up the answering hills
Echo's widening wave proceeded, spreads the sound of song that fills
All the echoing waste of ages, tale and lay and choral strain,
But the chief delight of sages and of kings was still the Tain,
Echo's widening wave proceeded, spreads the sound of song that fills
All the echoing waste of ages, tale and lay and choral strain,
But the chief delight of sages and of kings was still the Tain,
“Made when mighty Maev invaded Cuailgnia for her brown-bright bull;
Fergus was the man that made it, for he saw the war in full,
And in Maev's own chariot mounted, sang what pass'd before his eyes,
As you'd hear it now recounted, knew I but where Fergus lies.
Fergus was the man that made it, for he saw the war in full,
And in Maev's own chariot mounted, sang what pass'd before his eyes,
As you'd hear it now recounted, knew I but where Fergus lies.
“Bear me witness, Giant Bouchaill, herdsman of the mountain drove,
How with spell and spirit-struggle many a midnight hour I strove
Back to life to call the author! for before I'd hear it said,
Neither Sanchan knew it,’ rather would I learn it from the dead;
How with spell and spirit-struggle many a midnight hour I strove
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Neither Sanchan knew it,’ rather would I learn it from the dead;
“Ay, and pay the dead their teaching with the one price spirits crave,
When the hand of magic, reaching past the barriers of the grave,
Drags the struggling phantom lifeward:—but the Ogham on his stone
Still must mock us undecipher'd; grave and lay alike unknown.
When the hand of magic, reaching past the barriers of the grave,
Drags the struggling phantom lifeward:—but the Ogham on his stone
Still must mock us undecipher'd; grave and lay alike unknown.
“So that put to shame the direst, here I stand and own, O King,
Thou a lawful lay requirest Sanchan Torpest cannot sing.
Take again the gawds you gave me,—cup nor crown no more will I;—
Son, from further insult save me: lead me hence, and let me die.”
Thou a lawful lay requirest Sanchan Torpest cannot sing.
Take again the gawds you gave me,—cup nor crown no more will I;—
Son, from further insult save me: lead me hence, and let me die.”
Leaning on young Murgen's shoulder—Murgen was his youngest son—
Jeer'd of many a lewd beholder, Sanchan from the hall has gone:
But, when now beyond Loch Lurgan, three days thence he reach'd his home,
“Give thy blessing, Sire,” said Murgen.—“Whither wouldst thou, son?”—“To Rome;
Jeer'd of many a lewd beholder, Sanchan from the hall has gone:
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“Give thy blessing, Sire,” said Murgen.—“Whither wouldst thou, son?”—“To Rome;
“Rome, or, haply, Tours of Martin; wheresoever over ground
Hope can deem that tidings certain of the lay may yet be found.”
Answered Eimena his brother, “Not alone thou leav'st the west,
Though thou ne'er shouldst find another, I'll be comrade of the quest.”
Hope can deem that tidings certain of the lay may yet be found.”
Answered Eimena his brother, “Not alone thou leav'st the west,
Though thou ne'er shouldst find another, I'll be comrade of the quest.”
Eastward, breadthwise, over Erin straightway travell'd forth the twain,
Till with many days' wayfaring Murgen fainted by Loch Ein:
“Dear my brother, thou art weary: I for present aid am flown:
Thou for my returning tarry here beside this Standing Stone.”
Till with many days' wayfaring Murgen fainted by Loch Ein:
“Dear my brother, thou art weary: I for present aid am flown:
Thou for my returning tarry here beside this Standing Stone.”
Shone the sunset red and solemn: Murgen, where he leant, observed
Down the corners of the column letter-strokes of Ogham carved
“'Tis, belike, a burial pillar,” said he, “and these shallow lines
Hold some warrior's name of valour, could I rightly spell the signs.”
Down the corners of the column letter-strokes of Ogham carved
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Hold some warrior's name of valour, could I rightly spell the signs.”
Letter then by letter tracing, soft he breathed the sound of each;
Sound and sound then interlacing, lo, the signs took form of speech;
And with joy and wonder mainly thrilling, part a-thrill with fear,
Murgen read the legend plainly, “Fergus, son of Roy is here.”
Sound and sound then interlacing, lo, the signs took form of speech;
And with joy and wonder mainly thrilling, part a-thrill with fear,
Murgen read the legend plainly, “Fergus, son of Roy is here.”
“Lo,” said he “my quest is ended, knew I but the spell to say;
Underneath my feet extended, lies the man that made the lay:
Yet, though spell nor incantation know I, were the words but said
That could speak my soul's elation, I, methinks, could raise the dead.
Underneath my feet extended, lies the man that made the lay:
Yet, though spell nor incantation know I, were the words but said
That could speak my soul's elation, I, methinks, could raise the dead.
“Be an arch-bard's name my warrant. Murgen, son of Sanchan, here,
Vow'd upon a venturous errand to the door-sills of Saint Pierre,
Where, beyond Slieve Alpa's barrier, sits the Coärb of the keys,
I conjure thee, buried warrior, rise and give my wanderings ease.
Vow'd upon a venturous errand to the door-sills of Saint Pierre,
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I conjure thee, buried warrior, rise and give my wanderings ease.
“'Tis not death whose forms appalling strew the steep with pilgrim's graves,
'Tis not fear of snow-slips falling, nor of ice-clefts' azure caves
Daunts me; but I dread if Romeward I must travel till the Tain
Crowns my quest, these footsteps homeward I shall never turn again.
'Tis not fear of snow-slips falling, nor of ice-clefts' azure caves
Daunts me; but I dread if Romeward I must travel till the Tain
Crowns my quest, these footsteps homeward I shall never turn again.
“I at parting left behind me aged sire and mother dear;
Who a parent's love shall find me ere again I ask it here?
Dearer too than sire or mother, ah, how dear these tears may tell,
I, at parting, left another; left a maid who loves me well.
Who a parent's love shall find me ere again I ask it here?
Dearer too than sire or mother, ah, how dear these tears may tell,
I, at parting, left another; left a maid who loves me well.
“Ruthful clay, thy rigours soften! Fergus, hear, thy deaf heaps through,
Thou, thyself a lover often, aid a lover young and true!
Thou, the favourite of maidens, for a fair young maiden's sake,
I conjure thee by the radiance of thy Nessa's eyes, awake!
Thou, thyself a lover often, aid a lover young and true!
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I conjure thee by the radiance of thy Nessa's eyes, awake!
“Needs there adjuration stronger? Fergus, thou hadst once a son:
Even than I was Illan younger when the glorious feat was done,—
When in hall of Red Branch biding Deirdré and Clan Usnach sate,
In thy guarantee confiding, though the foe was at their gate.
Even than I was Illan younger when the glorious feat was done,—
When in hall of Red Branch biding Deirdré and Clan Usnach sate,
In thy guarantee confiding, though the foe was at their gate.
“Though their guards were bribed and flying, and their door-posts wrapp'd in
flame,
Calmly on thy word relying bent they o'er the chessman game,
Till with keen words sharp and grievous Deirdré cried through smoke and fire,
‘See the sons of Fergus leave us: traitor sons of traitor sire!’
flame,
Calmly on thy word relying bent they o'er the chessman game,
Till with keen words sharp and grievous Deirdré cried through smoke and fire,
‘See the sons of Fergus leave us: traitor sons of traitor sire!’
“Mild the eyes that did upbraid her, when young Illan rose and spake,
‘If my father be a traitor; if my brother for the sake
Of a bribe bewray his virtue, yet while lives the sword I hold,
Illan Finn will not desert you, not for fire and not for gold!’
‘If my father be a traitor; if my brother for the sake
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Illan Finn will not desert you, not for fire and not for gold!’
“And as hawk that strikes on pigeons, sped on wrath's unswerving wing
Through the tyrant's leaguering legions, smiting chief and smiting king,
Smote he full on Conor's gorget, till the waves of welded steel
Round the monarch's magic target rang their loudest larum peal.
Through the tyrant's leaguering legions, smiting chief and smiting king,
Smote he full on Conor's gorget, till the waves of welded steel
Round the monarch's magic target rang their loudest larum peal.
“Rang the disc where wizard hammers, mingling in the wavy field,
Tempest-wail and breaker-clamours, forged the wondrous Ocean shield,
Answering to whose stormy noises, oft as clang'd by deadly blows,
All the echoing kindred voices of the seas of Erin rose.
Tempest-wail and breaker-clamours, forged the wondrous Ocean shield,
Answering to whose stormy noises, oft as clang'd by deadly blows,
All the echoing kindred voices of the seas of Erin rose.
“Moan'd each sea-chafed promontory; soar'd and wail'd white Cleena's wave;
Rose the Tonn of Inver Rory, and through column'd chasm and cave
Reaching deep with roll of anger, till Dunseverick's dungeons reel'd,
Roar'd responsive to the clangour struck from Conor's magic shield.
Rose the Tonn of Inver Rory, and through column'd chasm and cave
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Roar'd responsive to the clangour struck from Conor's magic shield.
“Ye, remember, red wine quaffing in Dunseverick's halls of glee,
Heard the moaning, heard the chafing, heard the thundering from the sea;
Knew that peril compass'd Conor, came, and on Emania's plain
Found his fraud and thy dishonour; Deirdré ravish'd Illan slain.
Heard the moaning, heard the chafing, heard the thundering from the sea;
Knew that peril compass'd Conor, came, and on Emania's plain
Found his fraud and thy dishonour; Deirdré ravish'd Illan slain.
“Now by love of son for father,—son, who ere he'd hear it said—
‘Neither Sanchan knew it,’ rather seeks to learn it from the dead;
Rise, and give me back the story that the twin gold cups shall win;
Rise, recount the great Cow-Foray! rise for love of Illan Finn!
‘Neither Sanchan knew it,’ rather seeks to learn it from the dead;
Rise, and give me back the story that the twin gold cups shall win;
Rise, recount the great Cow-Foray! rise for love of Illan Finn!
“Still he stirs not. Love of woman thou regard'st not Fergus, now:
Love of children, instincts human, care for these no more hast thou:
Wider comprehensions, deeper insights to the dead belong:—
Since for Love thou wakest not, sleeper, yet awake for sake of Song!
Love of children, instincts human, care for these no more hast thou:
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Since for Love thou wakest not, sleeper, yet awake for sake of Song!
“Thou, the first in rhythmic cadence dressing life's discordant tale,
Wars of chiefs and loves of maidens, gavest the Poem to the Gael;
Now they've lost their noblest measure, and in dark days hard at hand,
Song shall be the only treasure left them in their native land.
Wars of chiefs and loves of maidens, gavest the Poem to the Gael;
Now they've lost their noblest measure, and in dark days hard at hand,
Song shall be the only treasure left them in their native land.
“Not for selfish gawds or baubles dares my soul disturb the graves:
Love consoles, but song ennobles; songless men are meet for slaves:
Fergus, for the Gael's sake, waken! never let the scornful Gauls
'Mongst our land's reproaches reckon lack of Song within our halls!”
Love consoles, but song ennobles; songless men are meet for slaves:
Fergus, for the Gael's sake, waken! never let the scornful Gauls
'Mongst our land's reproaches reckon lack of Song within our halls!”
Fergus rose. A mist ascended with him, and a flash was seen
As of brazen sandals blended with a mantle's wafture green;
But so thick the cloud closed o'er him, Eimena, return'd at last,
Found not on the field before him but a mist-heap grey and vast.
As of brazen sandals blended with a mantle's wafture green;
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Found not on the field before him but a mist-heap grey and vast.
Thrice to pierce the hoar recesses faithful Eimena essay'd;
Thrice through foggy wildernesses back to open air he stray'd;
Till a deep voice through the vapours fill'd the twilight far and near,
And the Night her starry tapers kindling, stoop'd from heaven to hear.
Thrice through foggy wildernesses back to open air he stray'd;
Till a deep voice through the vapours fill'd the twilight far and near,
And the Night her starry tapers kindling, stoop'd from heaven to hear.
Seem'd as though the skiey Shepherd back to earth had cast the fleece
Envying gods of old caught upward from the darkening shrines of Greece;
So the white mists curl'd and glisten'd, so from heaven's expanses bare,
Stars enlarging lean'd and listen'd down the emptied depths of air.
Envying gods of old caught upward from the darkening shrines of Greece;
So the white mists curl'd and glisten'd, so from heaven's expanses bare,
Stars enlarging lean'd and listen'd down the emptied depths of air.
All night long by mists surrounded Murgen lay in vapoury bars;
All night long the deep voice sounded 'neath the keen, enlarging stars:
But when, on the orient verges, stars grew dim and mists retired,
Rising by the stone of Fergus, Murgen stood a man inspired.
All night long the deep voice sounded 'neath the keen, enlarging stars:
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Rising by the stone of Fergus, Murgen stood a man inspired.
“Back to Sanchan!—Father, hasten, ere the hour of power be past,
Ask not how obtain'd but listen to the lost lay found at last!”
“Yea, these words have tramp of heroes in them; and the marching rhyme
Rolls the voices of the Era's down the echoing steeps of Time.”
Ask not how obtain'd but listen to the lost lay found at last!”
“Yea, these words have tramp of heroes in them; and the marching rhyme
Rolls the voices of the Era's down the echoing steeps of Time.”
Not till all was thrice related, thrice recital full essay'd,
Sad and shame-faced, worn and faded, Murgen sought the faithful maid.
“Ah, so haggard; ah, so altered; thou in life and love so strong!”
“Dearly purchased,” Murgen falter'd, “life and love I've sold for song!”
Sad and shame-faced, worn and faded, Murgen sought the faithful maid.
“Ah, so haggard; ah, so altered; thou in life and love so strong!”
“Dearly purchased,” Murgen falter'd, “life and love I've sold for song!”
“Woe is me, the losing bargain! what can song the dead avail?”
“Fame immortal,” murmur'd Murgen, “long as lay delights the Gael.”
“Fame, alas! the price thou chargest not repays one virgin tear.”
“Yet the proud revenge I've purchased for my sire, I deem not dear.”
“Fame immortal,” murmur'd Murgen, “long as lay delights the Gael.”
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“Yet the proud revenge I've purchased for my sire, I deem not dear.”
So, again to Gort the splendid, when the drinking boards were spread,
Sanchan, as of old attended, came and sat at tablehead.
“Bear the cup to Sanchan Torpest: twin gold goblets, Bard, are thine,
If with voice and string thou harpest, Tain-Bo-Cuailgne, line for line.”
Sanchan, as of old attended, came and sat at tablehead.
“Bear the cup to Sanchan Torpest: twin gold goblets, Bard, are thine,
If with voice and string thou harpest, Tain-Bo-Cuailgne, line for line.”
“Yea, with voice and string I'll chant it.” Murgen to his father's knee
Set the harp: no prelude wanted, Sanchan struck the master key,
And, as bursts the brimful river all at once from caves of Cong,
Forth at once, and once for ever, leap'd the torrent of the song.
Set the harp: no prelude wanted, Sanchan struck the master key,
And, as bursts the brimful river all at once from caves of Cong,
Forth at once, and once for ever, leap'd the torrent of the song.
Floating on a brimful torrent, men go down and banks go by:
Caught adown the lyric current, Guary, captured, ear and eye,
Heard no more the courtiers jeering, saw no more the walls of Gort,
Creeve Roe's meeds instead appearing, and Emania's royal fort.
Caught adown the lyric current, Guary, captured, ear and eye,
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Creeve Roe's meeds instead appearing, and Emania's royal fort.
Vision chasing splendid vision, Sanchan roll'd the rhythmic scene;
They that mock'd in lewd derision now, at gaze, with wondering mien.
Sate, and, as the glorying master sway'd the tightening reins of song,
Felt emotion's pulses faster—fancies faster bound along.
They that mock'd in lewd derision now, at gaze, with wondering mien.
Sate, and, as the glorying master sway'd the tightening reins of song,
Felt emotion's pulses faster—fancies faster bound along.
Pity dawn'd on savage faces, when for love of captive Crunn,
Macha, in the ransom-races, girt her gravid loins, to run
'Gainst the fleet Ultonian horses; and, when Deirdra on the road
Headlong dash'd her 'mid the corses, brimming eyelids overflow'd.
Macha, in the ransom-races, girt her gravid loins, to run
'Gainst the fleet Ultonian horses; and, when Deirdra on the road
Headlong dash'd her 'mid the corses, brimming eyelids overflow'd.
Light of manhood's generous ardour, under brows relaxing shone;
When, mid-ford, on Uladh's border, young Cuchullin stood alone,
Maev and all her hosts withstanding:—“Now, for love of knightly play,
Yield the youth his soul's demanding; let the hosts their marchings stay,
When, mid-ford, on Uladh's border, young Cuchullin stood alone,
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Yield the youth his soul's demanding; let the hosts their marchings stay,
“Till the death he craves be given; and, upon his burial stone
Champion-praises duly graven, make his name and glory known;
For, in speech containing token, age to ages never gave
Salutation better spoken, than, ‘Behold a hero's grave.’”
Champion-praises duly graven, make his name and glory known;
For, in speech containing token, age to ages never gave
Salutation better spoken, than, ‘Behold a hero's grave.’”
What, another and another, and he still for combat calls?
Ah, the lot on thee, his brother sworn in arms, Ferdia, falls;
And the hall with wild applauses sobb'd like woman ere they wist,
When the champions in the pauses of the deadly combat kiss'd.
Ah, the lot on thee, his brother sworn in arms, Ferdia, falls;
And the hall with wild applauses sobb'd like woman ere they wist,
When the champions in the pauses of the deadly combat kiss'd.
Now, for love of land and cattle, while Cuchullin in the fords
Stays the march of Connaught's battle, ride and rouse the Northern Lords;
Swift as angry eagles wing them toward the plunder'd eyrie's call,
Thronging from Dun Dealga bring them, bring them from the Red Branch hall!
Stays the march of Connaught's battle, ride and rouse the Northern Lords;
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Thronging from Dun Dealga bring them, bring them from the Red Branch hall!
Heard ye not the tramp of armies? Hark! amid the sudden gloom,
'Twas the stroke of Conall's war-mace sounded through the startled room;
And, while still the hall grew darker, king and courtier chill'd with dread,
Heard the rattling of the war-car of Cuchullin over head.
'Twas the stroke of Conall's war-mace sounded through the startled room;
And, while still the hall grew darker, king and courtier chill'd with dread,
Heard the rattling of the war-car of Cuchullin over head.
Half in wonder, half in terror, loth to stay and loth to fly,
Seem'd to each beglamour'd hearer shades of kings went thronging by:
But the troubled joy of wonder merged at last in mastering fear,
As they heard through pealing thunder, “Fergus, son of Roy is here!”
Seem'd to each beglamour'd hearer shades of kings went thronging by:
But the troubled joy of wonder merged at last in mastering fear,
As they heard through pealing thunder, “Fergus, son of Roy is here!”
Brazen-sandall'd vapour-shrouded, moving in an icy blast,
Through the doorway terror-crowded, up the tables Fergus pass'd:—
“Stay thy hand, oh harper, pardon! cease the wild unearthly lay!
Murgen, bear thy sire his guerdon.” Murgen sat, a shape of clay.
Through the doorway terror-crowded, up the tables Fergus pass'd:—
“Stay thy hand, oh harper, pardon! cease the wild unearthly lay!
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“Bear him on his bier beside me: never more in halls of Gort
Shall a niggard king deride me: slaves, of Sanchan make their sport!
But because the maiden's yearnings needs must also be condoled,
Hers shall be the dear-bought earnings, hers the twinbright cups of gold.”
Shall a niggard king deride me: slaves, of Sanchan make their sport!
But because the maiden's yearnings needs must also be condoled,
Hers shall be the dear-bought earnings, hers the twinbright cups of gold.”
“Cups,” she cried “of bitter drinking, fling them far as arm can throw!
Let them in the ocean sinking, out of sight and memory go!
Let the joinings of the rhythm, let the links of sense and sound
Of the Tain-Bo perish with them, lost as though they'd ne'er been found!”
Let them in the ocean sinking, out of sight and memory go!
Let the joinings of the rhythm, let the links of sense and sound
Of the Tain-Bo perish with them, lost as though they'd ne'er been found!”
So it comes, the lay, recover'd once at such a deadly cost,
Ere one full recital suffer'd, once again is all but lost:
For, the maiden's malediction still with many a blemish-stain
Clings in coarser garb of fiction round the fragments that remain.
Ere one full recital suffer'd, once again is all but lost:
For, the maiden's malediction still with many a blemish-stain
Clings in coarser garb of fiction round the fragments that remain.
| Lays of the Red Branch | |