From the Land of Dreams By John Todhunter. With an introduction by T. W. Rolleston |
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CONLAOCH'S CHALLENGE |
 | From the Land of Dreams |  |
CONLAOCH'S CHALLENGE
Over the Strand of Bala and the sea
A morning of great sunshine filled the sky,
Making the fathomless deep of tender air
One azure flame, and with soft inward light
Flooding the bosom of each sailing cloud
That slowly on its way voyaged serene,
High o'er the Strand of Bala and the sea.
A morning of great sunshine filled the sky,
Making the fathomless deep of tender air
One azure flame, and with soft inward light
Flooding the bosom of each sailing cloud
That slowly on its way voyaged serene,
High o'er the Strand of Bala and the sea.
On the broad Strand of Bala white-capt waves,
Tripping their ancient measure, up the shore
Danced gleefully, and paused, and turning drew
The lazy pebbles down with murmurous noise.
Green leagues of heaving billows, far away
Gleamed in the sunlight, darkened in the gloom
Where fell the shadow of a passing cloud.
Tripping their ancient measure, up the shore
Danced gleefully, and paused, and turning drew
The lazy pebbles down with murmurous noise.
Green leagues of heaving billows, far away
Gleamed in the sunlight, darkened in the gloom
Where fell the shadow of a passing cloud.
The peace of morn reigned in the sunny sky,
Reigned o'er the Strand of Bala and the sea.
Reigned o'er the Strand of Bala and the sea.
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There on the lonely strand a Warrior Youth
Came, landing through the surf: the battle-dress
Upon him like the ransom of a King,
For splendour; like the glory of the looms
In a Queen's house the mantle that he wore.
The cathbarr on his head blazed like a star;
The beauty of his hair, flame of his youth,
Gleamed on his broad shoulders. Firmly he stood
On his well-planted feet as a tall pine
That grips with its tough root the wind-swept crag;
Or moved with springing step like the red buck
Who rules the mountain-glens, and keeps his realm
Against all foes. Valour and strength and grace
He wore upon him, as the rowan-tree,
Royal by ancient birthright, in the woods
Wears with blithe dignity her coral crown,
And knows not her own beauty. So that day
Came Conlaoch to the strand.
Came, landing through the surf: the battle-dress
Upon him like the ransom of a King,
For splendour; like the glory of the looms
In a Queen's house the mantle that he wore.
The cathbarr on his head blazed like a star;
The beauty of his hair, flame of his youth,
Gleamed on his broad shoulders. Firmly he stood
On his well-planted feet as a tall pine
That grips with its tough root the wind-swept crag;
Or moved with springing step like the red buck
Who rules the mountain-glens, and keeps his realm
Against all foes. Valour and strength and grace
He wore upon him, as the rowan-tree,
Royal by ancient birthright, in the woods
Wears with blithe dignity her coral crown,
And knows not her own beauty. So that day
Came Conlaoch to the strand.
There by the ship
He left his crew, and, striding from the shore
Shone like a Danann god high on the ridge
Of sun-kist sand-hills, terrible as Lugh,
When in his eye kindles the battle-glee;
Beautiful as young Angus, when he stands
Upon on eastern hill, and wakes the day
With the far-sounding music of his harp.
He left his crew, and, striding from the shore
Shone like a Danann god high on the ridge
Of sun-kist sand-hills, terrible as Lugh,
When in his eye kindles the battle-glee;
Beautiful as young Angus, when he stands
Upon on eastern hill, and wakes the day
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O Spear of Lugh! for what strange combat now
Yearns the relentless fury of thy blade?
O sweet-voiced birds of Angus, bringing dreams,
What dream fires the Boy's heart, as on his arm
He lifts his death-defying shield, and waves
His spears aloft, and far before him sends
The joy of his voice in that clear challenging shout?
Yearns the relentless fury of thy blade?
O sweet-voiced birds of Angus, bringing dreams,
What dream fires the Boy's heart, as on his arm
He lifts his death-defying shield, and waves
His spears aloft, and far before him sends
The joy of his voice in that clear challenging shout?
Beyond the sandy ridges by the Strand
Of Bala, in the lowlands where the cows
O'er the green meadows, by the wandering stream
Of gently-flowing Fane, pastured in peace,
The young men kept the ford for Conchobar;
Who, far from ruined Eman, burnt in wrath
By Fergus, for the death of Usna's Sons,
Reigned sadly in Dundalgan by the sea.
Of Bala, in the lowlands where the cows
O'er the green meadows, by the wandering stream
Of gently-flowing Fane, pastured in peace,
The young men kept the ford for Conchobar;
Who, far from ruined Eman, burnt in wrath
By Fergus, for the death of Usna's Sons,
Reigned sadly in Dundalgan by the sea.
Clear to the young men's booth rang that stern shout,
And three came forth to meet upon the dunes
Young Conlaoch where he stood. Greeting him there,
They said: “O Warrior Youth, come you to us
This day in peace or war, out of the sea?
From what strange land fare you, on what strange quest,
Shining in arms against us, and your voice
Vexing the air with such a battle-cry?
If it be death you seek, these plains can yield
Stones for your cairn; if not, you have come astray,
Perchance to light on danger.”
And three came forth to meet upon the dunes
Young Conlaoch where he stood. Greeting him there,
They said: “O Warrior Youth, come you to us
This day in peace or war, out of the sea?
From what strange land fare you, on what strange quest,
Shining in arms against us, and your voice
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If it be death you seek, these plains can yield
Stones for your cairn; if not, you have come astray,
Perchance to light on danger.”
Cheerily
Sounded the northern music of his voice
In his bold answer: “Flower of the valorous host
Of Conchobar, from no chance-driven ship,
Ill-steered, or wandering from her course, I come
From oversea, to find my feet astray
In your long-famous Land. No fear of death
Dismays my heart; for here I come to seek
The proof of battle, and one to put me down;
And slain will I before him fall, or take
His glory from him in fair fight this day.”
Smiling in scorn they said: “Grandly must sound
Your name upon the tongues of men, fair youth,
If you can match the least whose shield adorns
Our House of Arms. But shame of ignorance
Reddens our cheeks, asking your name and kin.
What champion comes over the sea to tame
The pride of Connall Cearnach, or mayhap
Win glory from the Hound of Uladh now?”
Sounded the northern music of his voice
In his bold answer: “Flower of the valorous host
Of Conchobar, from no chance-driven ship,
Ill-steered, or wandering from her course, I come
From oversea, to find my feet astray
In your long-famous Land. No fear of death
Dismays my heart; for here I come to seek
The proof of battle, and one to put me down;
And slain will I before him fall, or take
His glory from him in fair fight this day.”
Smiling in scorn they said: “Grandly must sound
Your name upon the tongues of men, fair youth,
If you can match the least whose shield adorns
Our House of Arms. But shame of ignorance
Reddens our cheeks, asking your name and kin.
What champion comes over the sea to tame
The pride of Connall Cearnach, or mayhap
Win glory from the Hound of Uladh now?”
And Conlaoch gravely answered: “Vows are on me
Never to tell my name, save to the man
Who conquers me. Set me before your best,
And I will strive with him until I take
My death from him, or he defeat from me.”
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Who conquers me. Set me before your best,
And I will strive with him until I take
My death from him, or he defeat from me.”
Wondering they heard, and said: “O stranger youth,
Great seems your folly, greater still your pride;
But welcome be the man whose courage soars
A hawkflight over both!”
Great seems your folly, greater still your pride;
But welcome be the man whose courage soars
A hawkflight over both!”
They left the shore,
And to the booths beside the ford they came;
There gave him food, and water from the well;
For mead he would not drink. They staked the field
And built of sods cut from the sunny plain
The judge's throne; then bade him name his hour
And take his rest awhile. So passed the time
In courteous talk between them in the shade.
And to the booths beside the ford they came;
There gave him food, and water from the well;
For mead he would not drink. They staked the field
And built of sods cut from the sunny plain
The judge's throne; then bade him name his hour
And take his rest awhile. So passed the time
In courteous talk between them in the shade.
| From the Land of Dreams | |