 | The banshee and other poems |  |
THE GREAT LAMENTATION.
1
Death to the sons of TurannHad Lugh in his crafty mind:
“Yet lacks of my lawful eric
The spit, three shouts on the mountain.”
103
2
The strength of a babe was left usAt the hearing of that word,
Brian, Iuchar, Iucharba,
Like dead men they fell down.
3
But Brian your courage kindled,My sons! my sons!
For the Island of Finchory
A year long they searched the seas.
4
Then Brian set the clearnessOf crystal upon his forehead,
And, his water-dress around him,
Dived through the waves' green gloom.
104
5
Days twice-seven was he treadingThe silent gloom of the deep,
His lanterns the silver salmon
To the sea-sunk Isle of Finchory.
6
Soft shone the moony splendourOf the magic lamps of Finchory.
There sat in their hall of crystal
The red-haired ocean-wraiths.
7
Twice-fifty they sat and broideredWith pearls their sea-green mantles;
But Brian strode to their kitchen
And seized a spit from the rack.
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8
Soft rippled their silvery laughter,Like laughter of summer wavelets
“Strong is the son of Turann,
But stronger the weakest here.
9
“And now, should we withstand thee,No more shouldst thou see thy brothers;
Yet keep the spit for thy daring,
Brian, we love the bold.”
10
Then glad ye sailed away,My sons! my sons!
To the Hill of Shouts in Lochlànn,
To the Mountain of Miochan.
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11
There met them the friends of Cian,Sword-mates of the son of Caintè,
Guarding the mount, they stood,
Miochan and his three stout sons.
12
Oh! bitter were your battlesIn Greece, in Spain, and in Persia,
But bitterer far that fight
On the Mountain of Miochan!
13
A dead man ye left Miochan,Thrust through by the spear of Brian,
Dead men ye left his sons,
Corc, Conn, and Oodh, dead men.
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14
But bored were your three fair bodies,My sons! my sons!
Bored through by the spears of the sons
Of Miochan of the Mountain.
15
The sun could shine through their wounds,The swallows fly through their bodies,
When Brian raised his brothers
To give three shouts on that Mountain.
16
Ye raised your manly voices,My sons! my sons!
More blood came from you than breath
When ye gave your shouts on that Mountain.
108
17
Bleeding, down to the shipLed Brian his bleeding brothers:
“Our lives, with the Skin of Healing,
Fooled Lugh from our hands!” they said.
18
Then softly in the shipLaid Brian his fainting brothers;
By courage he kept his life
To bring them alive to land.
19
“I see the hills of Dun-Turann,And Tara of the Kings!”
Glad and sad were the three
When they saw Ben-Edar above them.
109
20
A joyful man was your father,To greet you living, my sons!
A sorrowful man was I
When I saw your deadly wounds.
21
In Tara of the KingsI bent before Lugh, I humbled
Before him this hoary head:
“Full eric we bring thee, Lugh!”
22
“A great eric, Lugh,My sons have paid for thy father,
Heal now with the Skin of Healing
The weakness of their wounds!”
110
23
“Bring then thy sons before me!”Said Lugh; and we came before him:
Two eyes were dry in all Tara
To see them, shrunk with their wounds!
24
Said Lugh: “I take from your handsThe eric, ye Sons of Turann;
No bond is on me this day
To yield you the Skin of Healing.”
25
Then burst o'er Tara's GreenA groan from the hosted kings,
As Brian raised his brothers
To look in the face of Lugh.
111
26
Said Brian: “I slew thy father,But now I bring thee a blood-fine,
The greatest that man on man
E'er laid since the sun was born.
27
“I slew thy father: full ericI bring thee—yet let me die;
But heal with the Skin of Healing
My brothers, to be thy men.”
28
“Nay,” said Iuchar and Iucharba,“Our blood be cast in the eric,
The best the sun sees for valour
Is Brian—save him alone!”
112
29
“No mercy ye showed my father,”Said Lugh, “when his hands of pleading
Ye scorned. No hurt or no healing
I owe you: your fine is paid.”
30
Hard-eyed, to the dun of TaraHe turned his feet from your succour.
Ye won him the world's High-Kingship,
He left you with your wounds!
31
Then faint ye sank by your father,My sons! my sons!
Said Brian: “Unjust, O Lugh,
Is the justice of thy craft!
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32
“No wrong like our wrong, O father!No sorrow like thy sorrow!
We blent no fraud with our valour,
Nor gave him guile for his guile.
33
“Great were the deeds we didIn Spain, in Greece, and in Persia;
But base and black is the deed
Of Lugh to us three in Tara.”
34
Ah! pale were your lips that kissed me,My sons! my sons!
Heart-sick, the three lay down
To die on the Green of Tara.
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35
Dim stared their eyes for the sky,Their faint hands groped for each other,
Last hope of the House of Turann,
My sons lay down in death.
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