Three Irish Bardic Tales Being Metrical Versions of the Three Tales known as The Three Sorrows of Story-telling. By John Todhunter |
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 | Three Irish Bardic Tales |  |
THE FIFTH DUAN. THE FLIGHT FROM ALBA.
So with the Alban King bode Naisi and his Clan,
Doing great deeds of war against his foes. Their fame
Grew loud in all the land; while Deirdrè in her house
Dwelt with her child, unseen of the wild Alban men.
Doing great deeds of war against his foes. Their fame
Grew loud in all the land; while Deirdrè in her house
Dwelt with her child, unseen of the wild Alban men.
But on a summer day it chanced she roamed abroad
Into the woods, and sat beneath an oak's huge bole,
With Gaier at her side or playing near; and mused
On the strange tale of her life: her childhood's lonely days,
Her girlish dreams, her love, her flight from Conchobar;
Till o'er the happy fields of memory—like the breath
Of Autumn, faint and cold through the glad leaves—there crept
A dim boding of woe, and Cathvah's prophecy,
Long banned, came brooding back—so chill, so full of gloom
It iced the sunniest streams of happy life. Then first
It shook her soul. No more the menace of a tale
It seemed, crouching afar for one she never knew,
Some Deirdrè of a dream: she heard the Banshee wail
O'er her own house, and Death drew nigh her in those woods,
She felt his eyes on her, blue, cold, implacable eyes,
Like the eyes of Conchobar, in hatred and desire.
Into the woods, and sat beneath an oak's huge bole,
With Gaier at her side or playing near; and mused
On the strange tale of her life: her childhood's lonely days,
Her girlish dreams, her love, her flight from Conchobar;
Till o'er the happy fields of memory—like the breath
Of Autumn, faint and cold through the glad leaves—there crept
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Long banned, came brooding back—so chill, so full of gloom
It iced the sunniest streams of happy life. Then first
It shook her soul. No more the menace of a tale
It seemed, crouching afar for one she never knew,
Some Deirdrè of a dream: she heard the Banshee wail
O'er her own house, and Death drew nigh her in those woods,
She felt his eyes on her, blue, cold, implacable eyes,
Like the eyes of Conchobar, in hatred and desire.
With a low cry: ‘Naisi, what have I done to thee?’
She sprang to snatch her child from where in golden moss
He played, clasping him close with kisses to her breast,
As though to shield him, shield herself, shield all she loved,
In the warm nest of love, from those implacable eyes.
She sprang to snatch her child from where in golden moss
He played, clasping him close with kisses to her breast,
As though to shield him, shield herself, shield all she loved,
In the warm nest of love, from those implacable eyes.
That moment there were eyes indeed in that green wood
Fixt on her, eyes that gazed in wonder on her face,
And felt her beauty smite their vision like the sun,
Painting her image deep in the dark soul of sight;
For there lurked one who oft, on errands from his lord,
Came prying round the dun, the Steward of the King.
And now his wondering eyes had found Deirdrè; and fair
She looked that day of the days, under green leaves alone.
Fixt on her, eyes that gazed in wonder on her face,
And felt her beauty smite their vision like the sun,
Painting her image deep in the dark soul of sight;
For there lurked one who oft, on errands from his lord,
Came prying round the dun, the Steward of the King.
And now his wondering eyes had found Deirdrè; and fair
She looked that day of the days, under green leaves alone.
Tall was she, like a queen, and graceful as the doe
That hears the hounds' far cry in the green heart of a wood;
Her standing like a pine shot from the craggy side
Of wild Slieve Mish; more lithe her bending than the boughs
Of a fair willow, when the whispering summer breeze
Silvers Ard-Sallagh; sweet the music that she made
In her going, for the eye, as ever for the ear
Of a great King was made by noble harps. Her face
Was lovelier in its light than the first glorious day
That bares the breast of heaven, and in the o'erwintered grass
Finds the brown lark, and up, shuddering with sudden song,
Lifts him, as with warm kiss upon their crimson lids
It opes the daisies' eyes. The dewdrops at your feet,
O Deirdrè, were the tears wept by the blissful morn
That looked on you, for joy that it had looked on you!
That hears the hounds' far cry in the green heart of a wood;
Her standing like a pine shot from the craggy side
Of wild Slieve Mish; more lithe her bending than the boughs
Of a fair willow, when the whispering summer breeze
Silvers Ard-Sallagh; sweet the music that she made
In her going, for the eye, as ever for the ear
Of a great King was made by noble harps. Her face
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That bares the breast of heaven, and in the o'erwintered grass
Finds the brown lark, and up, shuddering with sudden song,
Lifts him, as with warm kiss upon their crimson lids
It opes the daisies' eyes. The dewdrops at your feet,
O Deirdrè, were the tears wept by the blissful morn
That looked on you, for joy that it had looked on you!
Blue were her eyes, deep blue as the clear summer sea,
When, murmuring drowsily of isles unknown, it breaks
On the wild western coast: wistful and sad that day!
Deep was the love that dwelt in their blue deeps, and strong
The courage, wise the will, bright in their steadfast fire.
Haws in the morning dew by her fresh lips would seem
A dull half-comely thing to look on. In her cheek
Glowed the rich blood of health, with crimson fresh and pure
As tinges first the white of ripening strawberries
On a green wood's warm verge. In the bright coils of her hair
The sunshine, lingering, shed soft splendour in the shade.
O Deirdrè, when the sun shone warm on you that day,
Kissing your shining hair, his warmth was love of you!
When, murmuring drowsily of isles unknown, it breaks
On the wild western coast: wistful and sad that day!
Deep was the love that dwelt in their blue deeps, and strong
The courage, wise the will, bright in their steadfast fire.
Haws in the morning dew by her fresh lips would seem
A dull half-comely thing to look on. In her cheek
Glowed the rich blood of health, with crimson fresh and pure
As tinges first the white of ripening strawberries
On a green wood's warm verge. In the bright coils of her hair
The sunshine, lingering, shed soft splendour in the shade.
O Deirdrè, when the sun shone warm on you that day,
Kissing your shining hair, his warmth was love of you!
Fair from the shoulder gleamed her beautiful white arms,
So soft, so strong, that clasped her strong son to her breast,
That breast superb whereon the champion of the world
Might lay his head unshamed, and dream great dreams. And there
She stood in her sweet prime, beneath green boughs alone,
The beauty of the world. O Deirdrè, when the bronze,
Imaging your sweet face, blushed in the light, it blushed
For joy to image you, gazing your beauty back!
So soft, so strong, that clasped her strong son to her breast,
That breast superb whereon the champion of the world
Might lay his head unshamed, and dream great dreams. And there
She stood in her sweet prime, beneath green boughs alone,
The beauty of the world. O Deirdrè, when the bronze,
Imaging your sweet face, blushed in the light, it blushed
For joy to image you, gazing your beauty back!
The tunic that she wore was yellow as the broom
In morning light, and wrought with broidered fantasies
The daughters of her hand; blue was her mantle, hemmed
With silver threads, and brooched with a great brooch of gold
On the left shoulder. Bare gleamed her two comely arms,
With armlets of soft gold. The girdle at her waist
Was of dun deerskin, stitched with golden wire, and bossed
With stones in silver set. On her firm-planted feet
Were hunting buskins, clasped with dainty studs of bronze.
A light sharp hunting-spear, headed with bronze and bright
With rings of silver, lay under the oak; there too
Her work-bag, and the stuff of wool whereof she wrought
Some garment for the boy, the while she mused cast by.
In morning light, and wrought with broidered fantasies
The daughters of her hand; blue was her mantle, hemmed
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On the left shoulder. Bare gleamed her two comely arms,
With armlets of soft gold. The girdle at her waist
Was of dun deerskin, stitched with golden wire, and bossed
With stones in silver set. On her firm-planted feet
Were hunting buskins, clasped with dainty studs of bronze.
A light sharp hunting-spear, headed with bronze and bright
With rings of silver, lay under the oak; there too
Her work-bag, and the stuff of wool whereof she wrought
Some garment for the boy, the while she mused cast by.
All this the lurking spy with wonder marked, and thought:
‘For this are Usna's Sons the sons of secrecy,
Hiding their houses from us, in the mountain mist!
The sharers of their bread of exile at their board
Are fairy women, stolen out of the haunted hills
Of Ireland. This is one: some Queen of that old race
Of De Danann, whose name flies on the winds of song
O'er all the world, to vex the heart of men with sighs
For beauty unbeheld. And I have seen her now!’
‘For this are Usna's Sons the sons of secrecy,
Hiding their houses from us, in the mountain mist!
The sharers of their bread of exile at their board
Are fairy women, stolen out of the haunted hills
Of Ireland. This is one: some Queen of that old race
Of De Danann, whose name flies on the winds of song
O'er all the world, to vex the heart of men with sighs
For beauty unbeheld. And I have seen her now!’
He gazed and gazed again, and even as he gazed,
Seeking to stamp for aye the vision on his brain,
Came Naisi, through the wood striding with eager face;
And Deirdrè with a cry, love's sunshine in her eyes,
Was in his arms, and close he held her, heart to heart.
Seeking to stamp for aye the vision on his brain,
Came Naisi, through the wood striding with eager face;
And Deirdrè with a cry, love's sunshine in her eyes,
Was in his arms, and close he held her, heart to heart.
Great was the joy between them, and Naisi with his boy
Played like a boy, tossed him with glad shrieks in the air,
Or let his baby hands tug at the magic sword
Of Manannàn. At last he lifted him aloft,
And on his shoulders bore him laughing from the woods,
Chased by his mother home to their dwelling in the dun.
Played like a boy, tossed him with glad shrieks in the air,
Or let his baby hands tug at the magic sword
Of Manannàn. At last he lifted him aloft,
And on his shoulders bore him laughing from the woods,
Chased by his mother home to their dwelling in the dun.
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Then rose the lurking spy, and sped fast to his King,
And watched his hour to say: ‘O King of many spoils,
Hidden within their dun the Sons of Usna keep
The glory of the world! There is no bed of a king
In all the world that holds such beauty as the bed
Of Naisi holds this night. There is no beauty dwells
In women such as dwells in her who lies this night
Beside him. Is it meet the vassal of a King
Should keep for his own joy the jewel that outshines
The treasures of his lord? O, jealous for my King
Were my old eyes this day, first finding their delight!
And watched his hour to say: ‘O King of many spoils,
Hidden within their dun the Sons of Usna keep
The glory of the world! There is no bed of a king
In all the world that holds such beauty as the bed
Of Naisi holds this night. There is no beauty dwells
In women such as dwells in her who lies this night
Beside him. Is it meet the vassal of a King
Should keep for his own joy the jewel that outshines
The treasures of his lord? O, jealous for my King
Were my old eyes this day, first finding their delight!
Then did he paint in words the vision of his mind
So quick with Deirdrè's charms that the Red King took fire,
And cried: ‘Ay, Usna's Sons wax high in pride. These Hounds
Of Ulla that I feed will scorn me if they grow
Too lusty for my leash. Bad shows the field of men
Where serfs o'ertop their lords. I'll send this day and take
This woman they have shut from sight in fear of me.’
So quick with Deirdrè's charms that the Red King took fire,
And cried: ‘Ay, Usna's Sons wax high in pride. These Hounds
Of Ulla that I feed will scorn me if they grow
Too lusty for my leash. Bad shows the field of men
Where serfs o'ertop their lords. I'll send this day and take
This woman they have shut from sight in fear of me.’
‘Nay,’ said the Steward, ‘hear, O King of many spoils,
My word of counsel! Strong are Usna's Sons, and hard
To take in fight the thing they keep. Better their swords
Be for us than against. Cheaper it is to buy
Women with gold than blood; and dear to women's eyes
Are gold and things of price, jewels and shining robes;
Dearer to their craving hearts of restless envy all
That clothes in gauds of power their weakness; and with gold,
And with fair words, may Kings have all their will, and waste
No blood. Leave me to work, and thou shalt have the wife,
Yet keep for thy defence the husband's vassal sword.’
This counsel pleased the King, and with rich gifts of gold
The Steward sought the dun, while Naisi and his Clan
Were on a cattle-spoil abroad, serving the King.
So to the dun he came and found Deirdrè alone.
My word of counsel! Strong are Usna's Sons, and hard
To take in fight the thing they keep. Better their swords
Be for us than against. Cheaper it is to buy
Women with gold than blood; and dear to women's eyes
Are gold and things of price, jewels and shining robes;
Dearer to their craving hearts of restless envy all
That clothes in gauds of power their weakness; and with gold,
And with fair words, may Kings have all their will, and waste
No blood. Leave me to work, and thou shalt have the wife,
Yet keep for thy defence the husband's vassal sword.’
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The Steward sought the dun, while Naisi and his Clan
Were on a cattle-spoil abroad, serving the King.
So to the dun he came and found Deirdrè alone.
There in her porch she sat, with Gaier at her side,
And stitched, with loving thoughts, in silken broideries
A little coat. To her the envoy of the King
Came with a grave salute, gravely returned; and soon
That wily snake, his tongue, creeping in circles fine,
Of flattering talk more near its point of striking, sought
To charm her with its guile. Deirdrè with hidden fear
Heard him, and guessed some ill, but played with his attack,
Luring him from his lines of ambush craftily.
And stitched, with loving thoughts, in silken broideries
A little coat. To her the envoy of the King
Came with a grave salute, gravely returned; and soon
That wily snake, his tongue, creeping in circles fine,
Of flattering talk more near its point of striking, sought
To charm her with its guile. Deirdrè with hidden fear
Heard him, and guessed some ill, but played with his attack,
Luring him from his lines of ambush craftily.
‘Great is your beauty's fame,’ he said, ‘through all the land.
In vain doth Naisi thus casket in jealous fear
His jewel from the sun. The birds blab of your face
To the murmuring trees; the streams, whosehidden pools have glassed
Your image, to the meads babble your praise. Yet he,
Naisi, who keeps you here, mewed from the world that wakes
But for your worship, Naisi, he can forget your face,
Even as the wanton bee forgets the queen of the woods
That holds the richest sweets, for meaner flowers agape
To every thirsty fly—Naisi—’
In vain doth Naisi thus casket in jealous fear
His jewel from the sun. The birds blab of your face
To the murmuring trees; the streams, whosehidden pools have glassed
Your image, to the meads babble your praise. Yet he,
Naisi, who keeps you here, mewed from the world that wakes
But for your worship, Naisi, he can forget your face,
Even as the wanton bee forgets the queen of the woods
That holds the richest sweets, for meaner flowers agape
To every thirsty fly—Naisi—’
With flashing eyes
She cried, ‘What means this talk of Naisi?’ ‘By your leave,
I will be plain,’ he said. ‘You pine here in your dun
Beyond the rim of the world, or you would know how lives
Your Naisi in the world. The grey chief of Duntroon
Has a fair daughter—sweet the secrets that she kept
Till Naisi came. He wooed the kisses of her mouth
With a shy doe of the woods, blithe with her frisking fawn,
When back from Inverness he came last year.’ She smiled,
In pale disdain, and said: ‘Beware, lest for this tale
I give thy wagging tongue such guerdon as befits
The slanderous makebate. Hence! When wives are loyal, fool,
They have no ears to hear the secrets of their lord,
Save from his lips alone. While go thou mayest, begone!’
She cried, ‘What means this talk of Naisi?’ ‘By your leave,
I will be plain,’ he said. ‘You pine here in your dun
Beyond the rim of the world, or you would know how lives
Your Naisi in the world. The grey chief of Duntroon
Has a fair daughter—sweet the secrets that she kept
Till Naisi came. He wooed the kisses of her mouth
With a shy doe of the woods, blithe with her frisking fawn,
When back from Inverness he came last year.’ She smiled,
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I give thy wagging tongue such guerdon as befits
The slanderous makebate. Hence! When wives are loyal, fool,
They have no ears to hear the secrets of their lord,
Save from his lips alone. While go thou mayest, begone!’
Wondering he bowed; yet stayed, still trusting his grey craft
To mesh the veering mind of woman in his net,
Woven out of jealous wrath, vexed pride, pleased vanity;
And, flattering still, he flashed the jewels in her eyes,
And laid them in her lap, with pleading for his King.
To mesh the veering mind of woman in his net,
Woven out of jealous wrath, vexed pride, pleased vanity;
And, flattering still, he flashed the jewels in her eyes,
And laid them in her lap, with pleading for his King.
But Deirdrè rose in wrath, and cried with a stern cry,
‘To my side, Clan Usna!’ Straight Ardàn, left in the dun
Her guard, was at her side. Then, with a scorn that made
Each word a whip, she said: ‘Black be the day, O son
Of a bad mother, black the day that first mine eyes
Looked on thy traitor face! And black for thee shall be
The day that mine thou sawest. O wretch, know that my name
Is Deirdrè, and to thee dreadful shall be the sound!
This answer take thy King!’ And with the word she spat
Upon the gifts of gold, and in the Steward's face
So fiercely flung them, back he staggered from the blow,
Stunned, bleeding, scared, and turned to fly. Fierce to Ardàn:
‘Slay me this dog!’ she cried. ‘He comes with his vile dross
To buy me for his lord.’ Ardàn with one swift stroke
Smote him. The headless trunk fell prone, the severed head
Beside it, in the dust puddled with blood. A shriek
From frighted women rose; and Gaier, who had stood
Grasping his mother's gown, set up a startled cry.
‘To my side, Clan Usna!’ Straight Ardàn, left in the dun
Her guard, was at her side. Then, with a scorn that made
Each word a whip, she said: ‘Black be the day, O son
Of a bad mother, black the day that first mine eyes
Looked on thy traitor face! And black for thee shall be
The day that mine thou sawest. O wretch, know that my name
Is Deirdrè, and to thee dreadful shall be the sound!
This answer take thy King!’ And with the word she spat
Upon the gifts of gold, and in the Steward's face
So fiercely flung them, back he staggered from the blow,
Stunned, bleeding, scared, and turned to fly. Fierce to Ardàn:
‘Slay me this dog!’ she cried. ‘He comes with his vile dross
To buy me for his lord.’ Ardàn with one swift stroke
Smote him. The headless trunk fell prone, the severed head
Beside it, in the dust puddled with blood. A shriek
From frighted women rose; and Gaier, who had stood
Grasping his mother's gown, set up a startled cry.
Deirdrè upon her breast soothed him; then stern and pale
Stept with him to the corse, which lay as it had fallen,
A grovelling heap. ‘Come boy,’ she said, ‘the sons of kings
Must early learn to look upon a foe struck dead.’
They cast the body forth beyond the dun, and strewed
Fresh earth upon the blood. The gory head they laid,
With all the golden heap of treasure, on a bench
Within the House of Arms, to wait Naisi's award.
Stept with him to the corse, which lay as it had fallen,
A grovelling heap. ‘Come boy,’ she said, ‘the sons of kings
Must early learn to look upon a foe struck dead.’
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Fresh earth upon the blood. The gory head they laid,
With all the golden heap of treasure, on a bench
Within the House of Arms, to wait Naisi's award.
Next day came Naisi back with all his Clan. The tale
He heard. Fierce burnt his wrath against the treacherous King.
‘We have no more a home,’ he said. ‘The Swans of Lir
Call to us o'er the waves to seek another shore.
The western sea has isles beloved of Manannàn,
To them shall be our flight. Farewell to the broad fields
Our swords have won! Farewell to the comrades we have pledged!
When friends turn foes, farewell the halls of revelry!
Welcome the lonely shores where mourn the Swans of Lir!’
He heard. Fierce burnt his wrath against the treacherous King.
‘We have no more a home,’ he said. ‘The Swans of Lir
Call to us o'er the waves to seek another shore.
The western sea has isles beloved of Manannàn,
To them shall be our flight. Farewell to the broad fields
Our swords have won! Farewell to the comrades we have pledged!
When friends turn foes, farewell the halls of revelry!
Welcome the lonely shores where mourn the Swans of Lir!’
That night they sent away their women from the dun
Back to where still the ships, beached by their trusty crews,
Lay hid for use at need. Ardàn with fifty spears
Led them by secret ways down to the firth, and gave
Command to make all trim for sea. The bustling crews
Leaped blithely at his word, and by the morrow's noon
The galleys, tight and trim, rode on the silver flood,
Like sea-birds ere they spread their wings for southward flight.
Back to where still the ships, beached by their trusty crews,
Lay hid for use at need. Ardàn with fifty spears
Led them by secret ways down to the firth, and gave
Command to make all trim for sea. The bustling crews
Leaped blithely at his word, and by the morrow's noon
The galleys, tight and trim, rode on the silver flood,
Like sea-birds ere they spread their wings for southward flight.
And that same night was flung into the King's great dun,
Wrapt in a broidered scarf, the Steward's gory head;
Its chill hair decked with gold and jewels—all the gifts
To Deirdrè from the King. And with it was this rann:
‘This head of the King's man, slain by their hands, with gold
In eric for his death, the Sons of Usna send.
His body lies the while unburied by their dun,
Let the King claim it there, his claim shall be allowed.’
Wrapt in a broidered scarf, the Steward's gory head;
Its chill hair decked with gold and jewels—all the gifts
To Deirdrè from the King. And with it was this rann:
‘This head of the King's man, slain by their hands, with gold
In eric for his death, the Sons of Usna send.
His body lies the while unburied by their dun,
Let the King claim it there, his claim shall be allowed.’
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Thereat the Red King's face was changed with fury. He raged
Like one gone suddenly mad. With cruel foot he spurned
His hound best loved, the gift of Naisi, when she came
Perplexed, with fawning whine, to lick his wrathful hand,
So sorely that the beast fled howling from the hall.
Like one gone suddenly mad. With cruel foot he spurned
His hound best loved, the gift of Naisi, when she came
Perplexed, with fawning whine, to lick his wrathful hand,
So sorely that the beast fled howling from the hall.
Anon he gave command to arm in haste; but first
Sent on a deft slinger, to sling into the hold
Of Usna's Sons this rann, tied to a whizzing stone:
‘No eric will I take, save this: three beads for one,
Till this I come to take abide me, if ye dare.’
Sent on a deft slinger, to sling into the hold
Of Usna's Sons this rann, tied to a whizzing stone:
‘No eric will I take, save this: three beads for one,
Till this I come to take abide me, if ye dare.’
This message Naisi found ere noon, close to the door
Of Deirdrè's house. The stone had struck the painted post
And left it scarred. The song of battle in his heart,
Rose as he cried aloud: ‘He answers like a King.
Well, he shall have our heads, let him but win them now!’
Of Deirdrè's house. The stone had struck the painted post
And left it scarred. The song of battle in his heart,
Rose as he cried aloud: ‘He answers like a King.
Well, he shall have our heads, let him but win them now!’
To Ainli then he spoke: ‘Against this dun of ours
The Red King comes to-day, to take our heads. Our craft
Must draw him to the glens, where, while we seem to fly,
We shall fight, flying. There!’ he pointed to a gorge
Scarring the mountain side. ‘There shall we make our stand,
In yonder pass, whereof each bush and rock we know
Blindfolded in the night. Brother of all my deeds,
To thee this day I yield the post of valour. Choose
Three score, the Clan's best men, skilled with the sling, the spear,
The sword, not scant of breath, stags of the mountain, strong
To breast the craggy scaurs without a sob. With these
Here thou shalt hold the dun against the King's assault,
Then burst away to me, luring him to the pass
Where I with all my power will spring upon his rout.’
The Red King comes to-day, to take our heads. Our craft
Must draw him to the glens, where, while we seem to fly,
We shall fight, flying. There!’ he pointed to a gorge
Scarring the mountain side. ‘There shall we make our stand,
In yonder pass, whereof each bush and rock we know
Blindfolded in the night. Brother of all my deeds,
To thee this day I yield the post of valour. Choose
Three score, the Clan's best men, skilled with the sling, the spear,
The sword, not scant of breath, stags of the mountain, strong
To breast the craggy scaurs without a sob. With these
Here thou shalt hold the dun against the King's assault,
Then burst away to me, luring him to the pass
Where I with all my power will spring upon his rout.’
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Joy shone in Ainli's eyes. ‘Thanks, brother, for this boon.
This will I do, or know what death men die, when swords
Reap them in the red van of onset. Many a field
Has known me for a stout reaper; and when in turn
Among the sheaves of war I lie, to rush no more
Through bleeding ranks, comely shall be the sheaves that day,
Comely my wounds shall be, comely the trampled grass
That drinks my blood. But now have thou no fear for me:
I think we shall not die to-day. Many a shrewd hour
Of peril have we shared, Ardàn and thou and I,
Since with Cuchullin first we learned all feats of war
From red-maned Scatha. Here in Alba none shall say
We shamed her school. Farewell!’ With a grave look of love
The brothers kissed; then turned to order their array.
This will I do, or know what death men die, when swords
Reap them in the red van of onset. Many a field
Has known me for a stout reaper; and when in turn
Among the sheaves of war I lie, to rush no more
Through bleeding ranks, comely shall be the sheaves that day,
Comely my wounds shall be, comely the trampled grass
That drinks my blood. But now have thou no fear for me:
I think we shall not die to-day. Many a shrewd hour
Of peril have we shared, Ardàn and thou and I,
Since with Cuchullin first we learned all feats of war
From red-maned Scatha. Here in Alba none shall say
We shamed her school. Farewell!’ With a grave look of love
The brothers kissed; then turned to order their array.
Soon Ainli picked his men, and Naisi with his band
Marched from the dun, and up the mountain-side, away
To the wild gorge; waving, before they passed from sight
A last farewell to that bold few keeping the dun.
Marched from the dun, and up the mountain-side, away
To the wild gorge; waving, before they passed from sight
A last farewell to that bold few keeping the dun.
Not long had these to wait for the Red King; for soon
Far down the valley rose the sound of coming war:
The bag-pipe's eager scream, shrill o'er the brazen roar
Of war-horns braying loud as furious bulls, was heard,
First faintly, then more near; till, as the sturdy van
Of gold-bought Norsemen came in view, the mountains round
Seemed roaring to the noise of airy hosts, so loud
Echoed the crags. Meanwhile the dun upon its hill,
Answering with silence, loomed stern as the bolted cloud
Which speaks not ere it strike. Behind their wattled walls
Hidden the Irish lay, while Ainli through a loop
Marked with a wary eye the coming of the King.
Far down the valley rose the sound of coming war:
The bag-pipe's eager scream, shrill o'er the brazen roar
Of war-horns braying loud as furious bulls, was heard,
First faintly, then more near; till, as the sturdy van
Of gold-bought Norsemen came in view, the mountains round
Seemed roaring to the noise of airy hosts, so loud
Echoed the crags. Meanwhile the dun upon its hill,
Answering with silence, loomed stern as the bolted cloud
Which speaks not ere it strike. Behind their wattled walls
Hidden the Irish lay, while Ainli through a loop
Marked with a wary eye the coming of the King.
93
And soon, like the first dash of thunder-driven hail,
The slingers' volleyed stones came singing o'er the dun,
Rattling on every roof and wooden shed. No shout
Or stir of men made answer, till, even as the King
Halted to form his ranks for the assault, out rang
Ainli's shrill whistle; then, swift leaping to their mounds
With a wild cry, the slingers plied their Irish slings
With springy staves of yew. Keen was their instant aim,
Deadly the stones they sent from staves well-bent that day,
Hissing like snakes of the air. The stone from Ainli's hand
Smote the King's crest, and shore his griffin's golden wing;
And many a man fell slain. Seven times the Irish leaped
And slang, and bent their heads reloading, ere the van
Of Alba rushing came to scale the dun, and fierce,
Spear to spear, axe to axe, they grappled at the fosse.
The slingers' volleyed stones came singing o'er the dun,
Rattling on every roof and wooden shed. No shout
Or stir of men made answer, till, even as the King
Halted to form his ranks for the assault, out rang
Ainli's shrill whistle; then, swift leaping to their mounds
With a wild cry, the slingers plied their Irish slings
The staff-sling of the Bardic tales no doubt resembled the sling used by Irish schoolboys in quite recent times. It consisted of a staff of yew, or some other springy wood, to the more flexible upper end of which a thong of leather was attached. The thong was tightened and held in the hand which grasped the lower end of the staff, the staff being thus bent like a bow. The stone was inserted between the upper end of the staff and the leather thong, close to its attachment, and the cast was made by a strong forward stroke of the staff, the stone being released by letting go the unattached end of the thong. The spring of the staff thus added something to the force of the cast.
With springy staves of yew. Keen was their instant aim,
Deadly the stones they sent from staves well-bent that day,
Hissing like snakes of the air. The stone from Ainli's hand
Smote the King's crest, and shore his griffin's golden wing;
And many a man fell slain. Seven times the Irish leaped
And slang, and bent their heads reloading, ere the van
Of Alba rushing came to scale the dun, and fierce,
Spear to spear, axe to axe, they grappled at the fosse.
But when the King's wild horde with axes hewed their way
Through the tough wattled walls, or vaulting with their spears
Leaped over them to death, Ainli, with scarce a man
Hard hit or slain outright, with axes and great spears
Charged from the rearward gate, and through the thronging foe,
Like a tall herd of elks dashing with gory horns
The yelling pack aside, made desperate way, and sought
With swift and sudden rush the safety of the hills.
Through the tough wattled walls, or vaulting with their spears
Leaped over them to death, Ainli, with scarce a man
Hard hit or slain outright, with axes and great spears
Charged from the rearward gate, and through the thronging foe,
Like a tall herd of elks dashing with gory horns
The yelling pack aside, made desperate way, and sought
With swift and sudden rush the safety of the hills.
Then was a noble race; for, straining after them,
The Red King urged the chase. There Ainli, Swift of Foot,
Shewed him new deeds of war, as up the mountain-side,
Easily as o'er the plain, he sped, drawing as he ran
The swiftest in pursuit, then, fiercely turning, slew
With sword or spear; and so, still fighting, fled the band.
The Red King urged the chase. There Ainli, Swift of Foot,
Shewed him new deeds of war, as up the mountain-side,
Easily as o'er the plain, he sped, drawing as he ran
The swiftest in pursuit, then, fiercely turning, slew
With sword or spear; and so, still fighting, fled the band.
94
And still the stubborn King upon their bloody track
Urged on his labouring van, past many a gory corse
Of their slain comrades, still by Ainli's craft led on,
The quarry full in view. Thus for an hour they toiled
Up the steep mountain-side, until the Irish won
The gorge's gripe, and stood. On came the raging King
With all his force, in haste to glut his baffled rage.
Urged on his labouring van, past many a gory corse
Of their slain comrades, still by Ainli's craft led on,
The quarry full in view. Thus for an hour they toiled
Up the steep mountain-side, until the Irish won
The gorge's gripe, and stood. On came the raging King
With all his force, in haste to glut his baffled rage.
But Ainli whistled shrill, mocking the curlew's cry;
And straightway down the rocks burst Naisi and his men
In three swift streams, leaping like brooks in sudden storm
Upon the wearied foe, clogged by their numbers. Loud
Rang the wild din of war through the thronged pass, and well
Fought the Red King. An axe with his long arms he swayed,
And where it fell helms cracked and heads of men went down.
And straightway down the rocks burst Naisi and his men
In three swift streams, leaping like brooks in sudden storm
Upon the wearied foe, clogged by their numbers. Loud
Rang the wild din of war through the thronged pass, and well
Fought the Red King. An axe with his long arms he swayed,
And where it fell helms cracked and heads of men went down.
Him Naisi marked afar, and challenged with a shout;
And through the battle-press the two, like charging bulls
That cleave with eager fronts the scattering herds between,
Made at each other: red the lanes they hewed that day,
Ere face to face they met. Like sundered herds the clans
Shrank from their battle-ground. Never came death more near
Naisi; for the tough King smote like a sturdy smith
Great blows and swift, and like an eagle his huge axe
Struck on the swoop, and soared again without a pause.
And through the battle-press the two, like charging bulls
That cleave with eager fronts the scattering herds between,
Made at each other: red the lanes they hewed that day,
Ere face to face they met. Like sundered herds the clans
Shrank from their battle-ground. Never came death more near
Naisi; for the tough King smote like a sturdy smith
Great blows and swift, and like an eagle his huge axe
Struck on the swoop, and soared again without a pause.
But Naisi, leaping back, gave ground, and drew the King
About the field, and still upon the axe's haft
Smote with his sword's keen edge. Three blows he struck, the third
Left the axe headless. Then he waited till the King
His buckler snatched, and drew the sword upon his thigh,
And lashed at him in rage. His shield baffled the blow;
Then fiercely, blade to blade and shield to shield, they closed
In furious fight. Shrill sang their swords, their dinted shields
Cried hoarsely o'er the din of war, and grisly wounds
They gave and took; till soon from arms bleeding and faint
Drooped their hacked shields. But now pressed Naisi on the King,
Driving him foot by foot backwards, till with a leap
Full on his helm he smote. The sword of Manannàn,
Cleaving the crest, cut through the scalp, and bit the bone.
He fell, and over him Naisi, his victor's foot
Planted upon his neck, stood with his bloody sword
Poised like a hovering hawk. ‘O King,’ he said, ‘my hand
Henceforth might wear for thee the ring of gold which decks
The slayer of a King! Yet keep thy life. Two years
Thy wage have Usna's Sons taken, and shared thy bread,
To-day's shame pays enough thy guile to us. Farewell,
Haply thou shalt see fly thy fortune with our swords!’
About the field, and still upon the axe's haft
Smote with his sword's keen edge. Three blows he struck, the third
Left the axe headless. Then he waited till the King
His buckler snatched, and drew the sword upon his thigh,
And lashed at him in rage. His shield baffled the blow;
Then fiercely, blade to blade and shield to shield, they closed
In furious fight. Shrill sang their swords, their dinted shields
95
They gave and took; till soon from arms bleeding and faint
Drooped their hacked shields. But now pressed Naisi on the King,
Driving him foot by foot backwards, till with a leap
Full on his helm he smote. The sword of Manannàn,
Cleaving the crest, cut through the scalp, and bit the bone.
He fell, and over him Naisi, his victor's foot
Planted upon his neck, stood with his bloody sword
Poised like a hovering hawk. ‘O King,’ he said, ‘my hand
Henceforth might wear for thee the ring of gold which decks
The slayer of a King! Yet keep thy life. Two years
Thy wage have Usna's Sons taken, and shared thy bread,
To-day's shame pays enough thy guile to us. Farewell,
Haply thou shalt see fly thy fortune with our swords!’
At the King's fall his host fled in dismay, pursued
With havoc down the pass; till Naisi's clarion blew.
The wounded King he gave into his henchman's hand,
To bear from that red field. The Brothers with their Clan,
Many slain, many hurt, marched from their victory
By sunset to their ships, where Deirdrè hailed with joy
Naisi and Ainli safe. With gentle surgery
She bathed and bound their wounds, smiling in sweet content
To hear their warrior's tale of peril scaped that day.
With havoc down the pass; till Naisi's clarion blew.
The wounded King he gave into his henchman's hand,
To bear from that red field. The Brothers with their Clan,
Many slain, many hurt, marched from their victory
By sunset to their ships, where Deirdrè hailed with joy
Naisi and Ainli safe. With gentle surgery
She bathed and bound their wounds, smiling in sweet content
To hear their warrior's tale of peril scaped that day.
At dawn they rowed from shore, then hoisted sail, and passed
By many an isle and sound, voyaging by day, by night
Anchoring in land-locked bays, or, with ships hauled ashore,
Resting on lonely strands; so seven long days they sailed,
Till by Loch Eta's mouth a goodly isle they found
Where no man dwelt, pleasant with forest-land, and good
For hunters. There they made a year their quiet home.
By many an isle and sound, voyaging by day, by night
Anchoring in land-locked bays, or, with ships hauled ashore,
Resting on lonely strands; so seven long days they sailed,
Till by Loch Eta's mouth a goodly isle they found
Where no man dwelt, pleasant with forest-land, and good
For hunters. There they made a year their quiet home.
| Three Irish Bardic Tales | |