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 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
49
THE BEGGAR'S WORD.
[_]
The name of the wicked prince in this legend is arbitrary, though the ancient Irish had an ard righ (high king, or emperor) thus called. Of the latter is told, with some variations, the tale of Midas. The story was caught probably from some monk in the days when Ireland stood pre-eminent in classical as well as theological learning, and it became filtered through the peasants' sieve. This Labhradh Loingseach—Lora Lonshach of the common tongue (Leary?)—was gifted with a pair of horse's, not ass's, ears. The barber relieved his mind of the awful secret not by whispering it to a hole in the ground, but into a split which he made in a willow. Of this the king's musician chanced to make a harp that treacherously, at a public festival, uttered the barber's words, “Da Chluais Chapail ar Labhradh Loingseach”—i.e., Lora Lonshach has horse's ears. As for Donn, called Firineach—the teller of truth—from the invariable fulfilment of his predictions, he may be set down as an Irish Thomas the Rhymer. His identity is not fixed. Sometimes he is called a local fairy king, and sometimes set down as a son of Milesius, the conqueror of Ireland, who has taken up his residence in a rocky hill, waiting until the country recovers its nationality.
Proudly arose Cnocfirinn's height, at that time clothed with trees,
Whose many leaves showed light or dark, synchronic with the breeze.
A castle stood upon its crown—now lie its ruins low—
But that was in the olden time, twelve hundred years ago.
Whose many leaves showed light or dark, synchronic with the breeze.
A castle stood upon its crown—now lie its ruins low—
But that was in the olden time, twelve hundred years ago.
And there the cruel Lora reigned, the king of all that land;
No trace of justice in his heart, no mercy in his hand:
To noble high, or peasant low, denying ruth or right:
Black be his memory, Lora-na-ard, the tyrant of the height!
No trace of justice in his heart, no mercy in his hand:
To noble high, or peasant low, denying ruth or right:
Black be his memory, Lora-na-ard, the tyrant of the height!
His wrath the worst on Cormac fell—on Cormac of the Glen;
His hate for him was twice of that he felt for other men—
His cousin Cormac, rightful heir, whose crown usurped he wore,
Who Glann-a-dord alone retained of all he held before.
His hate for him was twice of that he felt for other men—
His cousin Cormac, rightful heir, whose crown usurped he wore,
Who Glann-a-dord alone retained of all he held before.
50
But naught for sway did Cormac long; a noble, shunning strife;
His greatest treasures, children twain and Amarach his wife—
Oscur, his son, a stripling tall, of proud and noble air,
And Niav—right well Fiongalla called—the innocent and fair.
His greatest treasures, children twain and Amarach his wife—
Oscur, his son, a stripling tall, of proud and noble air,
And Niav—right well Fiongalla called—the innocent and fair.
Long time had Lora set his eyes on daughter and on land;
To wrest the last, to wreck the first, a deadly scheme he planned;
For tempting from his lofty towers, in all its pride complete,
Was Glann-a-dord, its woods and fields—and Niav was young and sweet.
To wrest the last, to wreck the first, a deadly scheme he planned;
For tempting from his lofty towers, in all its pride complete,
Was Glann-a-dord, its woods and fields—and Niav was young and sweet.
So when one morning Niav went forth, with handmaids in her train,
As was her wont, to taste the air that swept the dewy plain,
There sudden from behind a knoll rode gallowglasses base,
Who rudely seized the lady fair and bore her from the place.
As was her wont, to taste the air that swept the dewy plain,
There sudden from behind a knoll rode gallowglasses base,
Who rudely seized the lady fair and bore her from the place.
The gallowglasses of the king their saffron jerkins showed,
And to the summit of the hill the vile marauders rode.
The royal rath they entered, and with victory elate,
With shouts their lovely prize they bore within the castle gate.
And to the summit of the hill the vile marauders rode.
The royal rath they entered, and with victory elate,
With shouts their lovely prize they bore within the castle gate.
Her brother heard her piteous shrieks, and snatching spear and brand,
Sprang light of foot up rock and cliff to intercept the band;
But only gained the castle gates to find them closed to him,
And at a wicket, sheltered well, the warder old and grim.
Sprang light of foot up rock and cliff to intercept the band;
But only gained the castle gates to find them closed to him,
And at a wicket, sheltered well, the warder old and grim.
51
“What do you here,” the warder cried, “with spear and glaive displayed?
Our royal lord no comer brooks in hostile guise arrayed.
Begone, rash boy, or dread his wrath!” “'Tis Lora's self I seek.
Where skulks this coward king of yours, oppressor of the weak?”
Our royal lord no comer brooks in hostile guise arrayed.
Begone, rash boy, or dread his wrath!” “'Tis Lora's self I seek.
Where skulks this coward king of yours, oppressor of the weak?”
Oped at the words the castle gates, and poured the wretches forth,
The vile assassin kerns well armed, the hirelings from the North.
The first went down before the sword, two others followed fast;
But all too many they for one, who, wounded, fell at last.
The vile assassin kerns well armed, the hirelings from the North.
The first went down before the sword, two others followed fast;
But all too many they for one, who, wounded, fell at last.
They haled him soon where Lora sat, and grimly said the king,
“For this, at dawn, before your house, on gallows-tree you swing;
And for the treason that is bred in nest at Glann-a-dord,
Your father's lands are forfeited unto his sovereign lord!”
“For this, at dawn, before your house, on gallows-tree you swing;
And for the treason that is bred in nest at Glann-a-dord,
Your father's lands are forfeited unto his sovereign lord!”
Ill news will travel fast; and hence, ere quite an hour had flown,
A mother's heart was throbbing quick, a mother's voice made moan;
A white-haired father bent in grief, all pride and state laid by,
His only son, his hope, his pride, next morn was doomed to die.
A mother's heart was throbbing quick, a mother's voice made moan;
A white-haired father bent in grief, all pride and state laid by,
His only son, his hope, his pride, next morn was doomed to die.
Amid their grief the sunset fell, the hour was growing late,
When came a tattered beggar there, and rapped upon the gate.
“I am,” said he, “the poorest man among the sons of men;
God save ye kindly! give me bed and supper at the Glen.”
When came a tattered beggar there, and rapped upon the gate.
52
God save ye kindly! give me bed and supper at the Glen.”
“Alas, poor man,” a servant said, “seek not for shelter here;
Avoid a house upon whose roof there falls such grief and fear.”
“Nay, nay,” said Cormac; “spurn him not! Whatever be our woes,
No man in need, while yet I rule, from hence unsuccored goes.”
Avoid a house upon whose roof there falls such grief and fear.”
“Nay, nay,” said Cormac; “spurn him not! Whatever be our woes,
No man in need, while yet I rule, from hence unsuccored goes.”
They let the beggar in the gate, they set him at the board,
Where some one told him of the doom that hung on Glann-a-dord.
“Oh, sha gu dheine?” said he then. “But Oscur shall not die:
Not his, but Lora's race is run, I say, who cannot lie!”
Where some one told him of the doom that hung on Glann-a-dord.
“Oh, sha gu dheine?” said he then. “But Oscur shall not die:
Not his, but Lora's race is run, I say, who cannot lie!”
The night had passed, the dawn was there, no cloud upon the sky;
And soon they raise before the door the ghastly gallows high;
And soon with mournful sound of horns the sad procession shows—
The troops of Lora on the march, and Oscur bound with those.
And soon they raise before the door the ghastly gallows high;
And soon with mournful sound of horns the sad procession shows—
The troops of Lora on the march, and Oscur bound with those.
Came forth the beggar with his hosts, and with scarce-hidden laugh,
Exclaimed in measured accents, as he leaned upon his staff:
“Last night there was no banshee's cry, that ever death portends;
Take comfort, gracious Bhan-a-teagh, the right the right defends!”
Exclaimed in measured accents, as he leaned upon his staff:
53
Take comfort, gracious Bhan-a-teagh, the right the right defends!”
Proud Lora prances on his steed, and lightly leaps to ground;
He gazes on the gloomy tree, then looks revengeful round,
When Amarach, with tottering steps, approaches where he stands,
And on her knees for mercy begs with high uplifted hands.
He gazes on the gloomy tree, then looks revengeful round,
When Amarach, with tottering steps, approaches where he stands,
And on her knees for mercy begs with high uplifted hands.
“The boy shall die!” the monarch said, “so treason may be checked,
And vassals taught their sovereign's will to hold in due respect.”
“You err, O king,” the beggar said; “not he, but you shall die.
I say it, I, Donn Firineach, the one who cannot lie!”
And vassals taught their sovereign's will to hold in due respect.”
“You err, O king,” the beggar said; “not he, but you shall die.
I say it, I, Donn Firineach, the one who cannot lie!”
“Peace, fool!” replied the king. “And learn, O Cormac, to your cost,
Your son his life and you the lands of Glann-a-dord have lost.
But as for Niav, my leman she, to grace my palace hall.”
“Thou liest, king!” the beggar said. “She has escaped thy thrall.”
Your son his life and you the lands of Glann-a-dord have lost.
But as for Niav, my leman she, to grace my palace hall.”
“Thou liest, king!” the beggar said. “She has escaped thy thrall.”
“Now who are you,” the monarch cried, “who dares to wake my wrath?
Far better in the woodland stand within the wild wolf's path.
Vile beggar-churl, this insolence to-day you well shall rue.
The tree which they have reared for one, has room enough for two!”
Far better in the woodland stand within the wild wolf's path.
Vile beggar-churl, this insolence to-day you well shall rue.
The tree which they have reared for one, has room enough for two!”
54
A noise as though the lightning-stroke a thunder-cloud had kissed.
Cnocfirinn opened at its base, poured forth a cloud of mist.
Impetuous over rock and mead in mighty mass it rolled,
And hid the beggar from their sight within its silver fold.
Cnocfirinn opened at its base, poured forth a cloud of mist.
Impetuous over rock and mead in mighty mass it rolled,
And hid the beggar from their sight within its silver fold.
All stood appalled. What sign is this? Now guard us, Holy Rood!
Closer the cloud of mist advanced to where the monarch stood;
An arm in glittering mail came forth, a hand that bore a glaive;
It rose in air, then sweeping down, the head of Lora clave.
Closer the cloud of mist advanced to where the monarch stood;
An arm in glittering mail came forth, a hand that bore a glaive;
It rose in air, then sweeping down, the head of Lora clave.
Then shrank the cloud away, dispersed, and showed a glittering ring
Of warriors bold in green and gold, and at their head their king—
Beggar no more—Donn Firineach, who one time ruled the land;
And to her sire the Lady Niav he led with kindly hand.
Of warriors bold in green and gold, and at their head their king—
Beggar no more—Donn Firineach, who one time ruled the land;
And to her sire the Lady Niav he led with kindly hand.
“From my deep sleep in yonder hill,” he said, “I heard your woe,
And came to raise the humbled right, and wrong to overthrow.
There lies the tyrant's worthless corse; inearth the soulless clay.
King Cormac has his own again, and none shall say him nay.”
And came to raise the humbled right, and wrong to overthrow.
There lies the tyrant's worthless corse; inearth the soulless clay.
King Cormac has his own again, and none shall say him nay.”
His green-clad soldiers formed in rank; they marched toward the hill;
The awe-struck throng in wonder stood, their breathing low and still.
Cnocfirinn opened wide its base; the green elves entered there;
It closed; and rock and cliff around again were grey and bare.
The awe-struck throng in wonder stood, their breathing low and still.
55
It closed; and rock and cliff around again were grey and bare.
Then joy was in the people's cup, o'erflowing at the brim;
For Cormac ruled o'er Munster wide, and Oscur followed him;
And Niav, before a year had gone, her young heart fairly won,
Was Queen of Ulster in the North, and bride of Nessa's son.
For Cormac ruled o'er Munster wide, and Oscur followed him;
And Niav, before a year had gone, her young heart fairly won,
Was Queen of Ulster in the North, and bride of Nessa's son.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |