University of Virginia Library

PROLOGUE.

Senchan, the king of bards, when centuries six
Had flowered and faded since the Birth Divine,
Summoned in synod all the island bards,
Demanding: ‘Is there who can yet recite
That first of Erin's songs, “The Tain”?’ Not one
Could sing it, save in fragments. Then arose
Marbhan, and spake: ‘Send prayer to Erin's Saints
That, bowed o'er Fergus’ grave, they lift their hands
For Erin at her need.’ Five Saints obeyed
And o'er that venerable spot three days
Fasting made prayer while knelt the bards around.
Then on the third day as the sun uprose
Behold! a purple mist engirt that grave;
And from it, fair as rainbow backed by cloud,
Shone out a kingly Phantom robed in green,
With red-brown locks, close clustered, drenched in dew,
And golden crown, and golden-hilted sword;—
His hand was on it. They who saw that Shape
Well knew him, Fergus Roy, the Exile-King.
Gracious as in the old days, that king rehearsed
The Tale so long desired, though many an age,
And that grey empire of departed Souls,
Had quelled at last the strong ones of that strain,
Record half jest, half earnest. Marbhan spoke
Once more: ‘Lest Erin lose again this Tale
Through fraud of demons or all-wasting time,
Amid you Saints elect some scribe, their best,
And pray that scribe to write it.’ Straight, with help
It may be, of the bards, Saint Kiaran wrote
The Heroic Song on parchment fine, the skin
Of one he loved, his ‘little heifer grey’
That gave the book its name. Six centuries passed;
Then in Saint Kiaran's House at Clonmacnoise
That book was found, and on it: ‘Reader, here
Are histories old with later fables blent,
Fancies full fair with idle Pagan vaunts:
Now therefore, since old things have in them worth
And teach by what they hold and what they lack,
Whoso shall read this book, and know to choose
'Twixt Good and Ill, my blessing on him rest!’