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 |  |
‘This will I do,’ said he. And so into his arms
She gave her son. Then first, kissing the sleeping child,
The rivers of her tears thawed in her eyes; and long
She bent o'er him and wept, sighing: ‘My boy, my boy!’
‘Farewell!’ she said, ‘With thee goes the best blood of my heart,
And with thee goes the warmth out of my breast! Sound, sound
Thy sleep be; but the sleep that holds thy father's eyes
Be far from thine! Farewell, for of the dead am I,
And to the dead go back!’ Then, with heartbreaking sobs
Choked in her breast, she turned, and to Cuchullin waved
A last farewell. The tears were warm in his blue eyes,
Mounting his car again with Gaier in his arms,
Tenderly held. And slow the car passed from her sight.
She gave her son. Then first, kissing the sleeping child,
The rivers of her tears thawed in her eyes; and long
She bent o'er him and wept, sighing: ‘My boy, my boy!’
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And with thee goes the warmth out of my breast! Sound, sound
Thy sleep be; but the sleep that holds thy father's eyes
Be far from thine! Farewell, for of the dead am I,
And to the dead go back!’ Then, with heartbreaking sobs
Choked in her breast, she turned, and to Cuchullin waved
A last farewell. The tears were warm in his blue eyes,
Mounting his car again with Gaier in his arms,
Tenderly held. And slow the car passed from her sight.
| Three Irish Bardic Tales | |