 | The banshee and other poems |  |
THE SECOND SORROW.
1
Crafty was Lugh, when he laidThat fine on the sons of Turann,
And pale we grew when we fathomed.
The mind of the son of Cian.
2
Three apples of gold ye brought himFrom the far Hesperian garden;
Ye slew the King of Greece
For the skin that heals all wounds.
101
3
Ye took from the King of PersiaThe spear more deadly than dragons;
It keeps the world in danger
With the venom of its blade.
4
Ye won from the King of SicilHis horses and his war-car,
The fleetness of wings their fleetness,
Their highway the land and the sea.
5
The King of the Golden PillarsYielded the swine to your challenge,
Each night they smoked at the banquet,
Each morning they lived again.
102
6
Ye took from the King of IcelandHis hound like the sun for splendour,
Ye won by your hands of valour
Those wonders, and brought them home.
7
But short was the eric of LughWhen your hearts grew hungry for Turann;
For Lugh had laid upon you
Forgetfulness by his craft.
| The banshee and other poems | |