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THE FIRST DUAN. THE DOOM OF THE CHILDREN OF LIR.

Sorrowful is my song,
Of songs most sorrowful,
The song of the doom of the Children of Lir.

1

So Oifa dwelt with Lir, as mother of his children,
One daughter and three sons, wide was their beauty's fame;
And Bōv Derg loved them well, and when the daisy's gleam
Silvered the fields of spring, they dwelt with him in joy.

2

And there Fianoula sang, shaming the blackbird's flute,
And Oodh of the golden hair cast far his boyish spear,
And, leaping like a roe, flew Fiachra o'er the streams,
And Conn, the blue-eyed, roving with his sling, was busy too.
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3

Great was the love of Lir for these, past love of fathers;
His heart went where they went, and never from their feet,
His feet for long were far, and still his face would turn
After them, east or west, as the daisy's after day.

4

And when the season fell for their coming home from Bōv,
Glad grew the heart of Lir, as earth's at kiss of spring.
By night he kept them near, and oft ere dawn was grey
Hungry with love he rose, to lie down among his children.

5

But Oifa in her heart said: ‘I am but a nurse
For these my sister's brood: I have no child: and here
Despised I dwell.’ And sick she lay in bitter teen,
Dumb on her bed, a year, nursing her heart's cold snake.

6

Then pale she rose, and pale she drest in jewelled fire
Her beauty's baleful star, and said: ‘Lo, daisied spring
Kindles her emerald torch among the groves of Lir.
Bōv Derg beholds, and dreams of rosy faces nigh.’

7

She flashed her charms on Lir, and Lir bade yoke the steeds,
And kissed his mounting sons, who laughed to go with her;
But long Fianoula clung round her grey father's neck,
Weeping to say farewell; boding some evil doom.
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8

So Oifa took the four, and fiercely driving came
Upon a place of Druids, and said: ‘Come, kill me now
This plague with some swift charm!’ ‘Get hence!’ the Druids cried,
‘Thou art the plague, Oifa; fear thou the Druids' curse.’

9

And on she rode in wrath, and reined beside a wood
Her foaming steeds, and took the children in her hands,
Muttering, to a deep glade; Fianoula weeping went,
For horror of the way, and boding of her doom.

10

Then Oifa drew her skeene, and would have slain them there;
But Conn looked wondering up: ‘Mother, what means that knife?’
‘Wolves!’ she cried out: ‘Wolves! wolves!’ He whirled his tiny sling
And said: ‘Lo! we are here; no wolf shall do thee harm.’

11

And sick with a strange dread, fearing to see their blood,
She cast her skeene away, and led them wondering back,
Muttering: ‘The Druids' curse! I fear the Druids' curse.
I'll crave no charm of theirs, my magic serves as well.’

12

So they rode on, and came in the hot afternoon
To Derryvarragh Lough; she stared upon its water,
And said: ‘Go in and bathe!’ And naked, in delight,
The children shouting ran, and plunged in the cool mere.
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13

Then rose the witch, and muttering paced she upon the shore
A Druid's maze, and raised her witch-wand in her hand,
And smote the children there, and they were seen no more,
But on the lake four Swans beheld their plumes, amazed.
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