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 |  |
And Deirdrè shrieked like one hurt with a stabbing sword,
And round their necks she flung her beautiful white arms,
And kissed them one by one, piteously through her tears
Murmuring soft words of love. Gaier in childish fear
Wept at her weeping. ‘Ah, my girl!’ said Naisi, ‘right,
Right was thy word, and true, as thy true heart. For sure
Never such treachery stained an Irish King before.
I am happier to lie down in my cold bed, than he
To send me there, and live, and be the thing he is.
Ah Deirdrè! we have lived, now must we die. Farewell!
Pulse of my heart, farewell! Courage, and save the boy.’
And round their necks she flung her beautiful white arms,
And kissed them one by one, piteously through her tears
Murmuring soft words of love. Gaier in childish fear
Wept at her weeping. ‘Ah, my girl!’ said Naisi, ‘right,
Right was thy word, and true, as thy true heart. For sure
Never such treachery stained an Irish King before.
I am happier to lie down in my cold bed, than he
To send me there, and live, and be the thing he is.
Ah Deirdrè! we have lived, now must we die. Farewell!
Pulse of my heart, farewell! Courage, and save the boy.’
| Three Irish Bardic Tales | |