University of Virginia Library

Near Eman's hall, beyond the outward fosse,
There was a slope all gay with golden moss,
Green grass and lady ferns and daisies white,
And fairy-caps, the wandering bee's delight,
And the wild thyme that scents the upland breeze,
And clumps of hawthorn and fair ashen trees.
And at its foot there spread a little plain
That never seemed to thirst for dew or rain;
For round about it waved a perfumed wood,
And through its midst there ran a crystal flood
With many a murmuring song and elfin shout,
In whose clear pools the crimson-spotted trout
Would turn his tawny side to sun and sky,
Or sparkling upward catch the summer fly;
On whose green banks the iris in its pride,
Flaming in blue and gold, grew side by side
With meadow-sweet and snow-white ladies-gowns,
And daffodils that shook their yellow crowns
In wanton dalliance with each breeze that blew;
And there the birds sang songs for ever new
To those that loved them as friend loveth friend;
And there the cuckoo first his way would wend
From far-off climes and kingdoms year by year,
And rest himself and shout his message clear
Round the glad woods, that winter was no more,
And summer's reign begun from shore to shore.

Beside that merry streamlet all day long,
From month to month, was heard the craftsman's song:
For they were gathered there from many lands,
And fast the palace grew beneath their hands,
Until each fretted roof and cornice fold
Shone through the woodland sprays like fiery gold.
Then round the flowery slope and level space
They built a giant wall, from cope to base
Unbroken, save by one small massive door
With the king's shield in porphyry fashioned o'er,
And guarded by a triple gate of brass
Through which, unbid, no living wight could pass.
And never upon mortal's proudest dream
Did such a fairy sight of splendor gleam
As that gay palace glowing in the light,
With door-ways carven of the silver white,
And doors of burnished gold and ivory,
And halls roofed o'er with the pink cedar tree;
And garden glorious with all flowers that grew,
And lawn in whose green midst a jet upflew
Of water from a well of carmogal,
Backward again all diamonded to fall
In breeze-blown mists and showers of glittering spray
Upon the gold fish at their happy play.—
And there they nursed the babe on breast and knee
Within these palace halls full tenderly;
And there she grew and blossomed year by year
In light and loveliness without a peer,
Like a fair fragrant flower that time by time
Gains some new beauty in its summer prime;
And oft about the garden she would run
And like a fairy dance in shade and sun,
And make companionship with every thing
That through the garden moved on foot or wing.
And scarce seven years had passed till with her tongue
Nimble with elfish questions she had wrung
The very heart from out her nurse's breast:
And all this time did no eye living rest
Upon her, save the king's own royal eye
And Caffa's, and the lady's proud and high
Who nursed her, and old Lavarcam's, the dame,
Who oft in fear and wonder thither came
To talk with her beneath the garden bowers:
And there amid the brightness of the flowers,
Laughing the child would say,—

“O Lavarcam!
Come, tell me!—Oh come, tell me what I am!
Did I come here just like the summer fly
To sparkle in the sun and then to die?
I've asked the flies full oft, but murmuringly
They said they were too filled of present glee
To give me answer, and they passed away;
And once unto the streamlet did I say
‘What am I?’—for in grove or garden walk
I oft feel lonely and perforce must talk
To all things round that creep or walk or fly,
And well I know their speech. And ‘What am I?’
I asked the stream; and it was churlish too
And would not speak, but from its weeds upthrew
A great brown frog puffed up with too much pride,
And ‘Ugly! Ugly! Ugly!’ hoarse he cried;
And then from off the streamlet's grassy brim
He made great mouths at me, and I at him,
Until I grew afeard of him and me,
And ran and ran by bank and rustling tree
Up to the fount to see my gold fish glance,
And with them in the sun like this to dance!”—
Then as a swallow that from o'er the foam
Returns at last to her dear native home,
And filled with joy beneath the branches cool
In airy circles skims her favorite pool,
So round the fountain with light foot and free
The little elfish maid danced gracefully,
Now here, now there, in her wild gambolings
O'er the smooth grass, as if she too had wings!

When nigh ten years had passed, she asked the dame,—
“O Lavarcam, why nam'st thou not my name?
I know it,—Deirdrè!—for one day I heard
Old Caffa mutter it through his great beard.
Art thou afraid of it? Not so am I,
For oft I shout it out so high,—so high,
The wild-birds know it on their topmost tree,
And the wall sends it echoing back to me:
What means it? And why do they keep me here
Within these high walls shut from year to year?
What means it?”—

Then old Lavarcam replied,
“O dear one, thou shalt be the Great King's bride!”

“A bride!—O Lavarcam, I know that too!
Oft have I seen the little wild-birds woo
Their winsome brides amid the branches green,
And call, and call, ‘My Queen! my Queen! my Queen!’
'Twas only in the early yester morn,
As I sat close beneath yon flowering thorn,
I saw a blue wood-pigeon and his bride
Adown the garden grass walk side by side,
Cooing in gladness as they went along;
Then I stood up and sang their marriage song,
And oh! I sang so loving, loud, and clear,
That the sweet wild-birds joined me far and near;—
Now tell me, Lavarcam, is this the way
The King and I within his court shall play?
No answer. Then to Caffa I will go,
As he walks brooding in the garden slow,
And ask of him how all these things befel,
For he knows more than mortal tongue can tell!”

Then dancing o'er the sward away went she,
And plucked wise Caffa's robe full wistfully,
And looked into his calm face with a smile
A heart of flinty stone might well beguile:—
“O Caffa, thou hast taught me many a thing,
Why the winds murmur and the tempests ring,
Why 'neath the genial sun the wild flowers bloom,
And why the glittering flies their tints assume;
And thou hast taught my morning orison
To the great God who rules the golden sun,
And how to lift my hands and raise my wail
At Samhain to the Moon so cold and pale,—
Yet thou hast never told me even my name!
But I have heard thee name it, and that shame
And great dishonor and black woe and crime
Shall trouble all the kingdom in my time!—
What am I? And why live I here alone?”

Then Caffa smote his breast, and with a groan
Of sorrow bent on her his pitying eye,
And down the garden strode without reply.

Then ran she till she plucked his gown again,—
“O Caffa, stay! O Caffa, ease my pain!—
Why does the King clothe me in royal dress,
And look on me with such great happiness,—
And gaze and smile, and swear by Sun and Wind
My peer shall ne'er be found 'mongst womankind?
Be sure within this garden fair doth live
Full many a thing that can more comfort give:
My yellow hair is not so full of light
As the gold fish that swim the fountain bright;
My lips were ne'er so fragrant or so red
As the gay roses in yon garden-bed;
And yet the King says they are brighter far,
And that mine eyes are like the morning star!—
What means it?”

With a sigh then Caffa said,
“O guileless little thing! O gold-haired maid!
What boots it aye to thee these things to know?
For thee in joy the seasons come and go.
For thee each day with happiness is fraught,
Then take them as they come, without a thought!”

But she, unsatisfied, plucked at his gown
Again, and, with a face half smile and frown,
Said, “Nay! thou goest not. What brings him here?
What is a King, that his bold looks I fear?
Thou answerest not. Ah! well—ah! well I know!—
One day in springtime, when the daw and crow,
The finch, the blackbird and the blue-winged jay,
Each unto each their friendly thoughts 'gan say,
Above the trees a whirring sound I heard,
And in the sky I saw the eagle bird
Come hither from the far-off mountains bare,
Cleaving with mighty wings the middle air;
And, as he came, all living things were mute.
The weasel sought the old tree's gnarlèd root,
The hare hid 'neath her fern, the garden-mouse
Tumbled with sudden fright into its house,
And every brooding bird upon her nest
Laid closer to her young her downy breast,
Until he passed away in headlong speed.
‘Ha! ha!’ I said, ‘thou art a king indeed!’”

One stilly day, 'neath autumn's amber beam,
She sat with Lavarcam beside the stream,
And looked upon the leaves that strewed the ground
In fading pomp and glory all around,
And said,—

“O Lavarcam, and shall I be
Like these poor castaways of bush and tree?
I've seen them bloom on many a branch and stem,
And I have bloomed, and why not die like them!
Thou hast not died, for the Gods understood
My hapless case, and they were kind and good,
And left thee as my sole companion here,
Whom I can always love without a fear!”

At this the old dame's look grew soft and kind,
Her heart swelled and with tears her eyes were blind,
And close she drew the maid, and fondly pressed
The blooming bosom to her withered breast.

“Alas! and woe is me! thou winsome maid,
Why speak of death in thy bright bloom?” she said,
“And why perplex thy heart and cloud thy brain,
And rive my bosom with thy questions vain?
Why think these thoughts of woe? Ah! rather quaff
Thy cup of early joy, and dance and laugh
And gambol while thou may'st, for soon enough
Thy skies may darken and thy paths grow rough;
And yet, perchance, the mighty Gods who sit
On their bright thrones, and see the centuries flit
Like shadows by before their golden gate,
May yet relent and weave a happier fate
For thee, belov'd, when thou goest forth a queen
Into the world by thee as yet unseen!”

One day the King came and with Caffa talked,
As down the garden, side by side, they walked:—
“O Caffa, now what boots thy prophecy?
What harm hath come to Eman and to me
For having of my will in this small thing?
See yonder, merrier than the birds that sing,
She sports and gambols round the garden bright
In her young innocence and fresh delight!—
What harm?”

“O King,” said Caffa, “nothing yet.
Her day will come, and thine, of black regret
And unavailing tears and bitter woe.
But see how with her radiant cheeks aglow
She turns and comes to sift us once again
With queries wisdom's craft will fight in vain!”

Up came she glittering 'mid the garden blooms,
Like some gay orient bird of gorgeous plumes,
Airy and graceful, glorious to behold,
Bright smiling in her sheeny robes of gold.
Then to her softly said the King in play,
“What sport hadst thou in this sweet spot today?”

“I played but with myself, and that with fear;
For all the birds were sullen, thou being here,
And would not sing for me!” the maid replied.

Then the King laughed, and 'twixt half-wounded pride
And wonder spoke again, “What hast thou not,
O maid, that thou complainest of thy lot?
Of this fair place,—this house and garden green,—
And all its merry creatures, thou art queen.
What wantest thou?”

Then she replied, “O King,
Long time the wild-birds' songs to me would bring
But joy, yet now mixed up in every note
Some tone of sadness to my heart will float.
Long time I laughed; but now, I know not why,
Their warbling songs both make me laugh and cry.
And, as I grow and grow, mine eyes can view
Things different from what my childhood knew.
The other day, a linnet's family
I saw full happy in the birchen tree.
Then sudden came the hawk, and spoiled the nest,
And slew the young, while with blood-dabbled breast
The wounded mother on the sward lay tost,
Fluttering, and wailing for the loved ones lost.
Then into my dimmed eyes the salt tears came,
And something burned within my heart like flame;
And wild I clapped my hands and smote my brow,
And cried, ‘O mother! mother! where art thou
To watch and wail me when mine hour is come,
Like these poor birds?’—O King, what hapless doom
Is on me?”

Then the King: “Nought but the best
Of fortune on thy golden head shall rest,
While I am King and sit upon the throne;
And thou within my heart shalt reign alone,
And thou shalt see the great bright world outside.”

Then sudden changed her mood, and, “Oh!” she cried,
“I saw it once, and I will tell thee how.
One day, as I sat 'neath the beechen bough,
I saw a little squirrel climb the tree,
Sit on a branch, and eye me roguishly.
These were my glad times, and the squirrel gay
Amid the branches green did seem to say,
With wild bright eyes, and bushy tail upcurled,
‘Come up! come up! come up, and see the world!’
And up I clomb the green tree after him,
Higher, and higher still, from limb to limb,
Till from the topmost boughs at length I gazed
Over the garden wall, and then half-dazed
With wonder saw I the great world spread out
That Lavarcam tells all the tales about!
And first upon a gentle sloping hill
I saw a sight, and seem to see it still,—
With all its moats and towers, a palace great,
And a strong band of heroes from its gate
Issuing upon the broad white gleaming road
That from the palace leads by this abode.
Now broader streamed their banner's silken fold,
And brighter flashed their harnesses of gold,
As nearer by our gateway they did come,
With loud brass clashing and great roar of drum.
And on their front came riding side by side
Three youthful knights in all their martial pride,
With red cloaks fluttering in the summer breeze
And gay gems flashing on their harnesses,
And on the helm that guarded each proud head,
And on each shield where shone the Branch of Red.
And, as they passed, the eldest of the three
With great black wistful eyes looked up at me;
For he did mark this yellow head of mine
Amid the green tree's branches glint and shine,
And oh! the look,—the fond bright look he gave!”

Then flushed the King's brow like an angry wave
That rises wallowing from the storm-vexed sea
Under a blood-red sunset threateningly.
Then Caffa started, and with troubled look
Full dolefully his withered head he shook,
And muttered to himself, “The poisoned knife
Hath gleamed at last for Eman's woe and strife,
For the king's heart and Usna's noble sons!”

While heedlessly as the blithe streamlet runs
The maid went on, unweeting of the pain,—
“And then they passed, and then I looked again.
And oh! the sight I saw, the woodlands gay,
The windy moorlands, and the mountains gray,
The world's great shining plains spread out so far,—
Oh! farther than the slender glittering bar
Of cloud that oft in windless nights of June
Lies like a golden lance athwart the moon!”

And thus she questioned them, and told the smart
That 'gan to prey on her young budding heart,
Till sixteen slender years away had flown
Over her golden head, and she had grown
Owner of all the beauty that once graced
Eirè and Banba, Fœla, and the chaste
Credè of Anann's Paps, and gay Ailleen
Of Leinster, and the young Momonian Queen,
Moria, and the Danann Goddesses;
Una of Irian woods and bloomy leas;
Ainè the Fair, the Brightness of the grass;
And Samhain mild, who holds the Moon's pale glass;
Sad Cliona, ruler of the Southern storm;
And regal Fincave of the Sun-bright form;
And Aevin, Guardian of Kincora's gate;
And Amarce the Wise and Fortunate!