 | Fand and Other Poems |  |
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MOYTURA.
FROM THE VISIONS OF FINTAN.
Fintan, the witness, am I.
I have lived for age upon age:
But the hour I began by a veil is hidden.
My sense has grown bright by degrees
Like a day from the dawn to the noon,
As life's ascent I have climbed,
From the humblest stage to the highest.
I have roamed as a fish in the water,
Have crouched as a beast in the forest;
Dumb was I then and blind;
Now I have speech and I see.
The past recalling, the future opening,
My soul receiving, I talked with gods.
I have lived for age upon age:
But the hour I began by a veil is hidden.
My sense has grown bright by degrees
Like a day from the dawn to the noon,
As life's ascent I have climbed,
From the humblest stage to the highest.
I have roamed as a fish in the water,
Have crouched as a beast in the forest;
Dumb was I then and blind;
Now I have speech and I see.
The past recalling, the future opening,
My soul receiving, I talked with gods.
Here I record the things that I saw
Of Moytura's war, of the mystic battle,
Fought by the uttermost verge of the west,
On the slopes of hills, that behold the sunset
Fade on the limitless waters, the bounds of the dwelling of men;—
Here by the gods De Danann were scattered the Fohmor armies,
Here was the strength of the darkness quelled.
Of Moytura's war, of the mystic battle,
Fought by the uttermost verge of the west,
On the slopes of hills, that behold the sunset
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Here by the gods De Danann were scattered the Fohmor armies,
Here was the strength of the darkness quelled.
The things I beheld and heard;—
A vision of bright gods on the hill top
Hereafter Knocnarea:—far-reaching Lu,
The hoary-bearded Dagda with his harp;
The warrior Ogmai with his spear;—the king
Nuadu argat-lawm;—the Healer sage
Dianket and his daughter, equal-skilled,
Armedda; also those three sisters fair,
Fohla, Banba, and Eire. Walls of light
Around them, light their roof. The plains below
Camped with their hosts gleam westwards many a league
To Connaught's utmost capes; but far to north
The Fohmor darkness held both earth and sky.
This was the vision; here the words I heard.
Lu.
Hereafter Knocnarea:—far-reaching Lu,
The hoary-bearded Dagda with his harp;
The warrior Ogmai with his spear;—the king
Nuadu argat-lawm;—the Healer sage
Dianket and his daughter, equal-skilled,
Armedda; also those three sisters fair,
Fohla, Banba, and Eire. Walls of light
Around them, light their roof. The plains below
Camped with their hosts gleam westwards many a league
To Connaught's utmost capes; but far to north
The Fohmor darkness held both earth and sky.
This was the vision; here the words I heard.
Presences mighty, radiant deities,
Powers, whose resplendent empire is the light,
Now is the hour of final victory nigh
Over our long-fought foes with all it brings
Of peace and joy unto a happy world;
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As well ye might?—seeing it means the loss
Of age-long toil;—ruin of all fair things,
Now in the bud to burst in loveliness,
But then to flower in horror to such fruit
As loathes the sun. But these are empty fears.
We have conquered in the nether elements;
We have triumphed in the dumb brute shapes of life,
Forcing our foes to this last battle-ground,
Chos'n of ourselves, the godlike shape of man.
Therein must they contend, dispirited
By past defeat not only, but with strength
Inferior, seeing they can but copy us
In monstrous imitations horrible,
Giant indeed, with frightful strength endued,
But awkward, ill-compact and disarrayed,
Not ordered unto beauty. Therefore we,
Though knowing that prolonged and terrible
The conflict that ensues, shall enter it
With hearts that do not quail. This is the eve
Of battle: our preparations all complete;
But, that our courage on highest wing may soar,
'Twere well, O Dagda, thou should'st chaunt to us
Of our performed achievements. Let the sound
Float with dismay upon the enemy,
Since harmony to Fohmor ears is grief,
The more when mixed with meaning, such as now
They cannot choose but understand. Therefore,
Mightiest Dagda, take thy harp and sing.
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In the misty beginning it was.
There was only darkness and evil.
Nothing besides was in being,
Or seemed; and the anarch spirits were over the darkness lords.
There was only darkness and evil.
Nothing besides was in being,
Or seemed; and the anarch spirits were over the darkness lords.
Thus long time it endured,
Till by schism of a sudden disunited
Their empire in twain was divided,
And out of the ruin of ruin sprang forth the light that was good.
Till by schism of a sudden disunited
Their empire in twain was divided,
And out of the ruin of ruin sprang forth the light that was good.
Then to our power new-born
Did each of the factions of darkness
Make offer of kingdoms anarchic,
As price of our aid. Both, spurned, reunited against us in war.
Did each of the factions of darkness
Make offer of kingdoms anarchic,
As price of our aid. Both, spurned, reunited against us in war.
Thus the long struggle began.
But we in our hearts still keeping
Courage and thought that foreseëth
Took measure and scale of the world, and in wisdom we laid our plan.
But we in our hearts still keeping
Courage and thought that foreseëth
Took measure and scale of the world, and in wisdom we laid our plan.
And we buried ourselves in the heart of matter embroiled,
In vapour and fire, in hurtling hurricane,
In whirlpool vortex boiling, in wavy flame,
Pervading all things, each to the other outstretching a hand,
Till around in a vasty circle we wove a chain,
And within it we gathered the world.
In vapour and fire, in hurtling hurricane,
In whirlpool vortex boiling, in wavy flame,
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Till around in a vasty circle we wove a chain,
And within it we gathered the world.
But against us ever our enemies evil laboured,
Baffling, breaking the framework, into the void
Letting loose the pent-up deluges, into the depths
Treading down the wreck of the work of our hands despairing,
Till wilder ever and fiercer the turmoil grew,
And the rage of the demons more deadly.
Baffling, breaking the framework, into the void
Letting loose the pent-up deluges, into the depths
Treading down the wreck of the work of our hands despairing,
Till wilder ever and fiercer the turmoil grew,
And the rage of the demons more deadly.
For weapons out of our broken work they made;
One half of the earth on the other was hurled;
But we to our purpose held with courage unbroken;
In great and in little, in atom or world, from age to age
Close-gripp'd the struggle ran on, nor ever we failed
To win the advantage, though slowly.
One half of the earth on the other was hurled;
But we to our purpose held with courage unbroken;
In great and in little, in atom or world, from age to age
Close-gripp'd the struggle ran on, nor ever we failed
To win the advantage, though slowly.
And thicker and harder we laid the foundations deep,
And the chain of the rocks forged tougher and stronger;
And though they shattered and flung to the gulfs of fire
The fragments, mighty as mountains, fusing and hurling the mass
In flame-flood over us, wrought we, in scorn, from the same
Fire-tempered work more adamantine.
And the chain of the rocks forged tougher and stronger;
And though they shattered and flung to the gulfs of fire
The fragments, mighty as mountains, fusing and hurling the mass
In flame-flood over us, wrought we, in scorn, from the same
Fire-tempered work more adamantine.
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Nothing we did was lost, and within the shell,
As if of a bird's egg, little by little,
Mile-thick the earth's bones grew to be shattered no more,
Though oft, in the stress of the struggle, disjointed, fractured and crushed,
In the conflict of us with the demons twisted and riven,
As men shall yet witness in wonder.
As if of a bird's egg, little by little,
Mile-thick the earth's bones grew to be shattered no more,
Though oft, in the stress of the struggle, disjointed, fractured and crushed,
In the conflict of us with the demons twisted and riven,
As men shall yet witness in wonder.
And down were the fires battened to warm earth's heart,
The strength of the foe, part tamed to our purposes,
Serving us evermore in the inward gloom;
In fierce reluctance, revolt, rebellion—they shook the frame,
They vomited fire; yet served they still to the end,
Nor left unaccomplished their work.
The strength of the foe, part tamed to our purposes,
Serving us evermore in the inward gloom;
In fierce reluctance, revolt, rebellion—they shook the frame,
They vomited fire; yet served they still to the end,
Nor left unaccomplished their work.
They lifted the land, as we bade, from the clinging sea,
To the kiss of the wind, to the wasting fingers
Of rain and river, that busily downward bore
To the wave, that again gave welcome and sank her floors to receive it,
So layer was laid upon layer, and the land thus built
To the sunlight again was uplifted.
To the kiss of the wind, to the wasting fingers
Of rain and river, that busily downward bore
To the wave, that again gave welcome and sank her floors to receive it,
So layer was laid upon layer, and the land thus built
To the sunlight again was uplifted.
Wasted, and sunk again, and again upraised;
Course upon course of the vast earth masonry
From ruins of older wrought into natures new,
Varied in tint and texture, each the work of an age
To be named thereafter, each, as it passed, a gift
Laying by for the use of the future.
Course upon course of the vast earth masonry
From ruins of older wrought into natures new,
Varied in tint and texture, each the work of an age
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Laying by for the use of the future.
Meantime a wonderful thought there had come to us:
Lifeless as yet was the earth,
Grey gleaming a granite waste,
Or piled with grim volcanic cinders.
Forth went our spirits mild,
Through the barren world persuasive,—
The grinding shock of rock and sea,
And, by potent chemistry,
Forced to close embrace
Atoms elemental, wedded
In a marriage ne'er to sever,
Exhaustless parents of an endless race.
And first the vegetative cell was born,
And, in tender moisture bred,
On the rich air's nurture fed,
Quickly grew and multiplied:
The hollow brims of ocean lined;—
Then timidly put forth its head,
The sands spread o'er, the rocks it climbed;
Drank the gold sunlight and flashed green
From land to land, from naked isle to isle.
Lifeless as yet was the earth,
Grey gleaming a granite waste,
Or piled with grim volcanic cinders.
Forth went our spirits mild,
Through the barren world persuasive,—
The grinding shock of rock and sea,
And, by potent chemistry,
Forced to close embrace
Atoms elemental, wedded
In a marriage ne'er to sever,
Exhaustless parents of an endless race.
And first the vegetative cell was born,
And, in tender moisture bred,
On the rich air's nurture fed,
Quickly grew and multiplied:
The hollow brims of ocean lined;—
Then timidly put forth its head,
The sands spread o'er, the rocks it climbed;
Drank the gold sunlight and flashed green
From land to land, from naked isle to isle.
And amazement on the foe fell strange,
And awhile they stood apart and gazed on us unhindering,
Taken captive, though unwilling, by their joy:
And our powers unimpeded
Wrought in riot of creation ever fairer,
All the earth with beauty heaping,
Lovelier raiment ever weaving
For the giant frame, whose glory
We had built with mighty toil.
And awhile they stood apart and gazed on us unhindering,
Taken captive, though unwilling, by their joy:
And our powers unimpeded
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All the earth with beauty heaping,
Lovelier raiment ever weaving
For the giant frame, whose glory
We had built with mighty toil.
Oh! lovely grew the work beneath our hands,
As the sunrise chased the sunset round the world,
Striking splendour from the flashing wastes of ocean,
From the deeps unsounded to the shallows emerald-opal
That bask upon the golden sands;—
To the many-coloured river jewel winding
Round the fruitfulness of plenteous lands.
As the sunrise chased the sunset round the world,
Striking splendour from the flashing wastes of ocean,
From the deeps unsounded to the shallows emerald-opal
That bask upon the golden sands;—
To the many-coloured river jewel winding
Round the fruitfulness of plenteous lands.
From the mountains, on whose peaks the pure light breaking,
In the morning's upward flight, or evening's downward,
Foamed in gold and rose and purple,
Like a river over cataract rocks exulting;
As the headland torrent, streaming,
Into all the flowery hues of Iris shattered,
The inmost treasure of richest colour revealed
In the beam's white heart enchanted:
And the crags and slopes of snow far blazed their glory
Over lowly fruitful vale and pasture field.
In the morning's upward flight, or evening's downward,
Foamed in gold and rose and purple,
Like a river over cataract rocks exulting;
As the headland torrent, streaming,
Into all the flowery hues of Iris shattered,
The inmost treasure of richest colour revealed
In the beam's white heart enchanted:
And the crags and slopes of snow far blazed their glory
Over lowly fruitful vale and pasture field.
And the clouds, that oft made dark the air's blue spaces,
Over springing blade and flowery bloom life-raining,
Bitter ocean's gentle children,
Change their frown of gloomy labour,
As they shake to earth their burden:
Shape they take and aspect fairest,
On the hill-tops rest, o'er plains go soaring, sailing;
Their use henceforth for glory and for beauty;
Till dying gorgeously, they swoon, resolving
Their being in the brightness of the sun.
Over springing blade and flowery bloom life-raining,
Bitter ocean's gentle children,
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As they shake to earth their burden:
Shape they take and aspect fairest,
On the hill-tops rest, o'er plains go soaring, sailing;
Their use henceforth for glory and for beauty;
Till dying gorgeously, they swoon, resolving
Their being in the brightness of the sun.
But the sullen spite of the foe left many a mark
Of grievous ill on the frame, we had else made fair
In its every part;
The burning desert, the hideous waste of the wintry gloom;—
The poison jungle, the plains frost-bitten;—
The rain-drowned land and the tracts for ever athirst;—
These are the deeds of the Fohmor, the work of the spirits accurst.
Of grievous ill on the frame, we had else made fair
In its every part;
The burning desert, the hideous waste of the wintry gloom;—
The poison jungle, the plains frost-bitten;—
The rain-drowned land and the tracts for ever athirst;—
These are the deeds of the Fohmor, the work of the spirits accurst.
But there came to us a thought more wondrous,
As the bud of the world its second husk unfolded,
And the living things rose swarming,
Thrilling earth and air and water,
Moving, quivering, breathing:
And this marvel new beholding
From their slumbers sudden started
The foe to a new-plotted war.
As the bud of the world its second husk unfolded,
And the living things rose swarming,
Thrilling earth and air and water,
Moving, quivering, breathing:
And this marvel new beholding
From their slumbers sudden started
The foe to a new-plotted war.
Subtle and strange was the conflict then begun:
Into every thing that had life they entered:
No germ, the least that existed, but in its being
Face to face they met us and fought in endless war;
No tissue of life, wherein for a moment slumbered
The infinite stress of the struggle.
Into every thing that had life they entered:
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Face to face they met us and fought in endless war;
No tissue of life, wherein for a moment slumbered
The infinite stress of the struggle.
Little by little we sought to raise to the stronger and higher;
They to degrade, little by little, to weakness and death:
Followed an endless ruin and waste of sorrow and pain:
For the only cure for the ill they wrought, was to end the life
Their poison tainted: and thus it grew that, at last, in all,
Though strong and beautiful, death with imperfect life was twined.
They to degrade, little by little, to weakness and death:
Followed an endless ruin and waste of sorrow and pain:
For the only cure for the ill they wrought, was to end the life
Their poison tainted: and thus it grew that, at last, in all,
Though strong and beautiful, death with imperfect life was twined.
What we by the paths of wisdom gently had guided onward
From beauty to fairer beauty and from strength to higher strength,
Lured by treacherous wiles into baffling by-paths wandered,
Terribly sinking in sudden descents to death.
Beauty corrupted sank into hideousness, sickening the earth.
Strength into monster shapes and lawless burgeoned wildly:
Beasts, like limbs of a mountain, trampled the forests as grass;
And over them, serpents flying,
Flapping black tempest from wings unplumed,
Sky-swooping plagues, down on them crashed,
Roar and battle renewing the terror of ancient days,
When mountain-tossing earthquakes,
Earth then loosely compact,
Ruinous work of the Fohmor, rent in sunder her frame.
From beauty to fairer beauty and from strength to higher strength,
Lured by treacherous wiles into baffling by-paths wandered,
Terribly sinking in sudden descents to death.
Beauty corrupted sank into hideousness, sickening the earth.
Strength into monster shapes and lawless burgeoned wildly:
Beasts, like limbs of a mountain, trampled the forests as grass;
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Flapping black tempest from wings unplumed,
Sky-swooping plagues, down on them crashed,
Roar and battle renewing the terror of ancient days,
When mountain-tossing earthquakes,
Earth then loosely compact,
Ruinous work of the Fohmor, rent in sunder her frame.
Nowhere was found a place for mild intelligence noble:
Fury and rage laid waste the desolate kingdom of mind,
And the seeds that were sowed of love were for ever uprooted of hate;
Life made prey upon life, and nourished in anger and blood
Angrier grew; and fiercer and sharper the claw and the fang,
The deadlier poison, nature's energy drew and absorbed.
Fury and rage laid waste the desolate kingdom of mind,
And the seeds that were sowed of love were for ever uprooted of hate;
Life made prey upon life, and nourished in anger and blood
Angrier grew; and fiercer and sharper the claw and the fang,
The deadlier poison, nature's energy drew and absorbed.
Plans we made as the sands in number,
The world was strewn with the cumber and wreck;
But we spun thereof tissue of finer being,
And how oft soever the foe defeated us,
Fought with invention that never slept.
Age after age of our labours saved we a little;
And surely laid the foundation,
Whereon life's palaces fairest should yet be securely built.
The world was strewn with the cumber and wreck;
But we spun thereof tissue of finer being,
And how oft soever the foe defeated us,
Fought with invention that never slept.
Age after age of our labours saved we a little;
And surely laid the foundation,
Whereon life's palaces fairest should yet be securely built.
We chose the weakest and gave them wisdom,
In shapes the meanest our might we hid;
So veiled awhile from the Fohmor eyes,
Who thus the heart of our purpose missed,
While we a pretended war pursuing,
To their own undoing, allured them
To spend their forces on labours idle
Of useless and monstrous life,
By our skill undermined.
In shapes the meanest our might we hid;
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Who thus the heart of our purpose missed,
While we a pretended war pursuing,
To their own undoing, allured them
To spend their forces on labours idle
Of useless and monstrous life,
By our skill undermined.
And they found themselves cheated at last, and in rage abandoned the traps, whereby we had mocked them:
And left them to perish;
For the life at once from them fled.
Earth with the giant ruin was shaken:
Whereof though rarely the signs remain,
To the men to come an amazement.
And left them to perish;
For the life at once from them fled.
Earth with the giant ruin was shaken:
Whereof though rarely the signs remain,
To the men to come an amazement.
Those contests old are ended now;
Ours at last the victory:
Wild rage and force to order bow;
From wave they die, from wood they flee,
And yield the ghost up silently
Of the Fohmor spirit, that wrought in torment
And hateful troubles in earth and sea.
Ours at last the victory:
Wild rage and force to order bow;
From wave they die, from wood they flee,
And yield the ghost up silently
Of the Fohmor spirit, that wrought in torment
And hateful troubles in earth and sea.
Embalmed in rock, that once was slime,
Sleeps the giant Saurian;
All monsters of that earlier time,
Whereto life's stream misguided ran,
Have failed before the gentler clan:
And the fiercest of beasts is prisoned in beauty
Shall win him a tear for his fate from man.
Sleeps the giant Saurian;
All monsters of that earlier time,
Whereto life's stream misguided ran,
Have failed before the gentler clan:
And the fiercest of beasts is prisoned in beauty
Shall win him a tear for his fate from man.
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Yet ended though that contest old
In its first violence, something still
Survives of it eternally:
One part of all the tumult power,
The wildest, toils beneath the earth confined;
A lesser part the brute absorbs;
And now, obedient to our plan,
To higher sphere the warfare rising,
Henceforth shall rage in the human will:
Thus the triple conflict doth unfold,
From the elements dark and blind,
Through the beast, into man.
In its first violence, something still
Survives of it eternally:
One part of all the tumult power,
The wildest, toils beneath the earth confined;
A lesser part the brute absorbs;
And now, obedient to our plan,
To higher sphere the warfare rising,
Henceforth shall rage in the human will:
Thus the triple conflict doth unfold,
From the elements dark and blind,
Through the beast, into man.
I have ended, O Lu; have obeyed
Thy call, and have told in my singing,
From the days of the misty beginning,
To the brink of the mighty to-morrow, what triumphs the gods have gained.
Thy call, and have told in my singing,
From the days of the misty beginning,
To the brink of the mighty to-morrow, what triumphs the gods have gained.
I have sung but in brief: I have flown
From peak unto peak, in a moment
Crossing abysses and oceans
Of deeds, as the waves unnumbered, that now shall remain untold.
From peak unto peak, in a moment
Crossing abysses and oceans
Of deeds, as the waves unnumbered, that now shall remain untold.
On the peaks of the past, upon all,
As I touched them, a light I enkindled,
And, as if from a sun nigh risen,
Darkness in front of us flies, on the skies of the future is dawn.
As I touched them, a light I enkindled,
And, as if from a sun nigh risen,
Darkness in front of us flies, on the skies of the future is dawn.
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Time is a brand that flames
At point of the present;—behind it,
In region of limitless twilight,
Die the sparks it has kindled, the trail of its splendour fails.
At point of the present;—behind it,
In region of limitless twilight,
Die the sparks it has kindled, the trail of its splendour fails.
But the fuel, flame-feeding, grows,
As onward it rushes, and warmer
With sun-like visage and broader,
The brightness endures of its passage, the future in front of it glows.
As onward it rushes, and warmer
With sun-like visage and broader,
The brightness endures of its passage, the future in front of it glows.
Now do the powers of the night
In threefold horror assemble,
To sunder the strand at the present,
That, the past in the dark may be swallowed, the future no kindling find.
In threefold horror assemble,
To sunder the strand at the present,
That, the past in the dark may be swallowed, the future no kindling find.
Tremble, ye powers of the gloom:
Shudder, ye legions of darkness:
We have weapons to scatter your armies;
A sword that shall vex and divide you, a flame to pursue and consume.
Shudder, ye legions of darkness:
We have weapons to scatter your armies;
A sword that shall vex and divide you, a flame to pursue and consume.
Lu, after a pause, rises and, at a wave of his hand, the curtain of light divides, and the gods look out upon the darkness.
Lu.
Hear ye the Fohmor wail?
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This was the next that I beheld and heard.
I was alone with Lu, and thus he spake.
“'Tis well. One day is over: we have kept
The island safe and stedfast: fires have blazed
In vain: the earthquake rude has sought to shake
His rider from his back. Tempest has raged,
And giant-miened has threatened, with huge hands,
To hurl the ocean skywards over us.
But all is past, and the sweet silver moon
Beams on a peaceful sea and verdant earth
Unscorched, unsmirched. The forest oaks are green,
And fearless breathes the frailest violet.”
I was alone with Lu, and thus he spake.
“'Tis well. One day is over: we have kept
The island safe and stedfast: fires have blazed
In vain: the earthquake rude has sought to shake
His rider from his back. Tempest has raged,
And giant-miened has threatened, with huge hands,
To hurl the ocean skywards over us.
But all is past, and the sweet silver moon
Beams on a peaceful sea and verdant earth
Unscorched, unsmirched. The forest oaks are green,
And fearless breathes the frailest violet.”
Then I, who spoke familiar with the god,
“How hast thou wrought these wonders?” Answered he
Familiar with the mortal, “Thou shalt hear.
Nor let remembrance fail. With seeming men
This land has long been peopled;—some of the race
Of Light, some Fohmors, who, with subtle wile,
Have sought to counterwork us, in the guise
Of our own chosen shape and Danann name.
Of these were found the children of Turann,
Whose fierce hate, bursting unadvisedly
In murder of my human sire supposed,
Yielded them to my power. I sent them forth
In giant toil to wander through the world,
To win for me, in conflict with their kin,
Treasures and secrets of the elements
Still by the Fohmors jealously concealed.
Wherewith, as men, to meet Moytura's war.
But I will cast thee into sleep and make
These things in vision pass before thine eyes.”
“How hast thou wrought these wonders?” Answered he
Familiar with the mortal, “Thou shalt hear.
Nor let remembrance fail. With seeming men
This land has long been peopled;—some of the race
Of Light, some Fohmors, who, with subtle wile,
Have sought to counterwork us, in the guise
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Of these were found the children of Turann,
Whose fierce hate, bursting unadvisedly
In murder of my human sire supposed,
Yielded them to my power. I sent them forth
In giant toil to wander through the world,
To win for me, in conflict with their kin,
Treasures and secrets of the elements
Still by the Fohmors jealously concealed.
Wherewith, as men, to meet Moytura's war.
But I will cast thee into sleep and make
These things in vision pass before thine eyes.”
I saw the visions, heard the words, and write
The preparation for Moytura here.
The preparation for Moytura here.
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The vision first I saw was Tara's court:
And there in aspect as of men most fair,
Yet only men, were Lu and Nuadu;
The Dagda; and Turann's three sons; their names
Brian, Yuchar, Yucharba. Thus they spake.
Lu.
And there in aspect as of men most fair,
Yet only men, were Lu and Nuadu;
The Dagda; and Turann's three sons; their names
Brian, Yuchar, Yucharba. Thus they spake.
Princes De Danann, I have suffered wrong
Most grievous: words will hardly utter it.
Yet would I have you say what each would deem
A fitting eric for a father slain.
All.
None, none could be too great.
Nuadu.
But dost thou say
Thy father hath been murdered?
Lu.
Doubt it not!
Vilely and horribly;—his body bruised,
Pounded to gory shreds with jaggèd stones,
By fratricidal hands. The sickened earth
Six times refused to hide the corpse, 'twas sought
To bury in her bosom out of sight;
But the seventh time, wearied, refused no more,
And trembling still and sickening, to mine ear
Whispered the horrible tidings.
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Who hath done this?
Lu.
They are among us who have dared the crime.
[The sons of Turann confer at the end of the hall.
Brian.
He knows us: 'tis but vainly we shall strive
To evade the Ildana's glance: let us confess
And pay the eric asked.
Yu and Yucharba.
Let it be so!
Brian.
O Lu, we know thou layest upon us
This guilt, though wrongly: yet since hard it were
For us to clear ourselves, against thy word,
We offer eric, and whate'er is right,
Will pay.
Lu.
Who will be bonds for this your payment?
Nuadu.
I and the princes all will be their bonds.
Lu.
Hear my demand then, which if ye should deem
Too great, I will remit a part thereof;—
A spear, a hound, three apples, and a word,
And three casts of a spear upon a hill.
The sons of Turann.
That is indeed but little.
Lu.
Think ye so?
Yet may ye deem it great. The apples, I seek,
Sons of Turann give ear, grow on no tree
In Eirë; where they grow 'tis yours to find.
The fruits they are of healing and of life.
The virtues of all plants are less than theirs:
All maladies they cure, all wounds they heal:
And whoso tastes of them, how aged soe'er,
Becomes himself a plant that springs again,
With life for four new seasons. Precious these;—
78
Yet must ye gain them first, and then the hound,
That hath not sire nor offspring: chained he lies
In darkness sleeping, waiting for the hour
Of your approach, foretold: woe to you then,
If courage fail you or strength. He is but little,
Yet will no beast withstand him: easily
Ye will not leash him home to me, I deem.
Yet shall ye find him ere ye find the spear,
That ocean swallowed. Pressed beneath the weight
Of all that liquid cold, that cannot quench
Its fiery heat, it lies, slow smouldering.
Terrible powers around it watch unseen:
And, if ye should, in their despite, attain
To draw from the vast water-sheath, beware!
For there is peril lest the air of heaven
Catch from it fire and leaping into flame
Burn you and all to ashes. Such the spear.
Not easily your hands will wield it home.
These are the Fohmor treasures, which they hide,
Useless to them; well knowing that to me
Weapons they are to tame the elements,
And all the rout of men and monsters fierce
Shall give me battle on Moytura's field.
Fohmor are ye three parts by blood, and thence
Can find, ye only, what the Fohmors hold
Hidden in secret regions of the earth.
Then shall ye seek out Balar on his hill,
Betwixt the wastes of snow and sullen fires;—
79
Deadly defiance; and, with three spears cast,
Smite through the fiery head, that tops the hill.
Think ye the eric little? Are ye pale?
I did not think such heroes could grow pale.
Your cheeks were ruddy when ye slaughtered Kian.
Keep your blood yet, till it shall ooze from you,
Drop after drop, through many a bitter wound.
[Lu, Nuadu and the others rise and leave the hall. The sons of Turann remain gazing at each other in silent consternation.
80
The vision changed, and I beheld the Boyne's fair banks by Rossnaree. There stood Turann, his daughter, and his sons, and thus they spake.
Ethnai.Your doom is grievous, brothers: not more grievous
Than was the deed; the punishment is just.
Alas! I could not have believed it of you,
Were ye not self-accused, that in your souls
Caged horrors like to these lay quick for flight:
And those dear hands that have so oft caressed
Your Ethnai, were more fitted to achieve
The murder acts of wrath.
Brian.
Oh! speak not thus,
Sweet sister: heavy is our punishment;
Add not thine anger's weight. Why we thus wrought
We know not. Some compulsion mastered us;
Some overwhelming will that was not ours,
Flooded the channels of our souls, and surging
Far, far beyond the stream's accustomed bounds,
Behind it left this ruin and slimy scum;
Now the shrunk flood views the foul work, dismayed.
81
Alas! I fear the flood was all your own,
Your very stream, restrained a little while.
Yet why should I be harsh, since being your sister
Mine too must be the like unruliness.
We are but different stems on the one plant;
And the same poison that hath made your fruit
So deadly, must be also found in me.
Well if the tasks th' Ildana lays on you,
Spending your bitterness to some sweet end,
Shall make thereof a medicine for the world.
Brian.
Ethnai, wilt thou not aid us?
Eth.
How should I?
Brian.
Only by help of Lu can we perform
These tasks.
Eth.
Then ask him humbly for his help.
Brian.
Nay, but we know Lu looks on thee with love.
Eth.
Stay! say no more; for I will ask for nought.
Yourselves must ask whate'er ye need. But he
Will not, I deem, be all unpitiful.
Brian.
What were it good to ask of him? the loan
Of Mananaun's swift steed or magic boat?
Ethnai.
Ask for the steed first. That will he refuse
The boat will grant, and that will serve you most.
[Lu.]
Then Lu came by, stern-miened, and thus he spake:
Have ye not yet departed? Had I laid
A heavier eric on you, ye had sped
Without delay upon the quest; but now,
Since I am merciful, ye play on me,
And make no haste, no effort, but at ease
82
Of Kian exclaims against you. Get ye gone!
Brian.
O glorious Lu, thou know'st the costly eric
Which thou demandest, never may be won,
Save with thy favour and consenting aid.
Lend then the wing-swift steed of Mananaun.
Lu.
I may not lend the steed.
Brian.
Deny not then
The boat called the wave-sweeper.
Lu.
You shall have it.
'Tis moored in yonder reach upon the Boyne,
Beside the Dagda's dwelling. See, it comes,
Responsive to my thought, that summons it.
Eth.
Brothers, make no delay.
The three
(embarking).
Sister, farewell!
Eth.
Farewell, be brave! Ye did an evil deed,
Your hands are miry. Wash them, if ye can,
Clean in the fount of glory; then return.
Brian.
Move on, swift boat, beneath us.
83
The vision changed, and ere another came,
It seemed, when I beheld it, years had passed;
And then at Tara I beheld again
The Dagda, Nuadu, Ogmai, and many more
Princes De Danann; and there entered then,
Brian, Yuchar, Yucharba, and their sire,
And Ethnai following, and 'twas thus they spake.
Nuadu.
It seemed, when I beheld it, years had passed;
And then at Tara I beheld again
The Dagda, Nuadu, Ogmai, and many more
Princes De Danann; and there entered then,
Brian, Yuchar, Yucharba, and their sire,
And Ethnai following, and 'twas thus they spake.
Welcome, sons of Turann! of your great deeds
We are not altogether ignorant.
Yet is our knowledge but confused or faint,
Since it has come to us from rumour's voice,
As of one speaking in a room apart,
This word heard clear, this other only a sound
Vague, inarticulate, or inaudible.
But never, since you left our Eirë's shores,
Have wonders ceased to be reported of you,
Roared from the east, or whispered from the west.
We have stood and watched the gulf wherein you plunged,
Counted and marked the bubbles as they rose.
84
Over the wide unknown, whereon you sailed.
We have seen your faces on the evening clouds
Painted in fire: have heard strange wails of pain
From broken, sad, defeated elements,
Wronged gods and vanquished men: but at the last
Lo! ye return among us, recognized
The same that ye departed, though your cheeks
Be scarred, and your brows furrowed, and on your heads
The snows have fallen, that no summer sun
Shall ever melt from off them. All the tale
Will ye recount in full, when unto Lu
Ye have transferred the fruits of your great toil,
And peace once more has healed De Danann strife.
The eric, say—ye have brought it home in full?
Brian.
Yes, we have brought the eric every part,
Apples and hound and spear. Into your hands,
Our sureties', we surrender it. We deem
That now the life of Kian is paid for well.
Nuadu.
We take them. But we would that Lu were here;
Hath no one sent him word? Let it be done.
Officer.
He hath been told, O king! he signifies
That he with things of import is engaged,
Yet will make speed to come: he begs you take
The eric from the children of Turann.
Nuadu.
Well, we have done so. (To Turann).
Father of these brave sons,
Turann, rejoicest thou to see them home,
85
That, having all the former shame outblotted,
Leaves them a radiant superfluity
Of fame, to give thy glance, however far
It journey onward in the dark to come,
Light to perceive their names remembered still.
Turann.
Yea, I rejoice, great king: but I am old,
And sorrow has pinched numb my feeble life:
Now she lets go, feeling scarcely returns.
Yet I rejoice and if my joy still fails,
Here is one younger, who hath joy for all,
My daughter Ethnai. Ah! those rugged ones,
Her brothers,—lo! I all but hated them,
When I beheld how grief for their rude deeds
Fell, like a rock, upon a tender plant,
On her young head, crushing the life and bloom.
Nuadu.
Yet, the rock lifted, bravely she revives.
(To Eth.)
Sweet maiden, thou hast sorrowed overmuch:
I am glad to see thee smile again.
Eth.
O King,
I fear my smiles are yet but makebelieves:
It is but slowly one resumes an art
So long unpractised.
Nuadu.
Not when skill like thine
Cometh by nature: but behold our Lu,
The lord of every art, to take his due.
[Lu salutes the assembly in silence, and takes his seat.
Mighty Ildana, thou before thee seest,
From their long wanderings Turann's three sons
86
Burdened with obligation to achieve
An eric, such as never before was asked,
Nor will again, and seemed impossible.
Yet now behold them having no whit failed,
Enriched with all the treasures of the world,
Trusting to buy, not only, as is due,
Forgiveness for the old wrong, but thy full friendship,
That so De Danann feuds may find their end.
Lu.
'Tis good. Sons of Turann, I welcome you.
Ye have, then, brought the eric and in full?
Brian.
Yea, all—the apples three, the hound, the spear.
Lu.
And there was something more, which doubtlessly
Is not forgotten. Have ye given my message
To Balar on his hill, and with your spears
Smitten the fiery head that tops the hill?
Brian.
Oh! woe, my brothers, woe! the task forgot
Arises now to claim us.
Eth.
What is this?
I cannot understand. I thought that all
This ill was over, crime and chastisement.
Lu.
The last and heaviest stroke hath still to fall;
Crime's punishment is long. Well that it ends at all.
Eth.
O sorrow, but our happiness was weak,
A champion poor in courage, void of strength,
That could so briefly hold our dwelling-place
Secure against thine arms and entrance dark.
Nuadu.
Ah! surely but this trouble is for nought.
87
If not in full, the precious heart thereof,
Thou wilt not ask for more?
Lu.
Yea, I must ask.
Brian.
Thou shalt have all; yet for a boon we crave.
Lend us the apples inexhaustible:
Lend us the spear: its cast is victory.
And we shall fail not to complete the task,
Which else, since we are worn with utter toil,
And wounds blood-wasting, we shall scarce achieve.
Lu.
That which I hold secure must I keep fast.
Lightly ye ask for things, which ev'n yourselves
Knowing the value,—but to such as you
This were impossible,—from shame and awe
Had from your hands let fall, ev'n had ye dared
To touch them,—things, that are the mystic keys
Shall open doors to us from these low vaults,
Wherein we crouch in darkness, to the high halls
Of heaven and the light illimitable.
Eth.
Have mercy, Lu. See, Ethnai kneels to thee.
Send them not forth, or if thou needs must send,
Take not from them those weapons, which their own skill
And valour have won; for that were murderous.
Lu.
Maiden, not even to thee can I grant this.
Brian.
Thou wilt not? Then, De Dananns, hear this thing.
'Tis by his own foul arts that we forgot.
Each object of the eric burnt as a star,
88
Daring we reached and plucked them down to us.
Apples and hound and spear: then suddenly
A mist arose and blotted out the rest.
Perplexed were we: was there not somewhat more?
Each of the other asked: but even suspicion,
Shadow of recollection soon was lost.
We turned in confidence our faces home,
To find, when we were spoiled of our great spoil,
Which had assured our safety to the end,
The bitter treasure of our memory
Thrust on us by those hard vindictive hands
Of him, who surely counts among his crafts,
A more than cat-like skill of mousing play.
Lu.
I do make no denial that my art
Caused your forgetfulness. It was my purpose
To bring these things desired to my possession,
Lest they be lost, when on your embassage
Ye went to Balar: all were fruitless then.
I do not love you, children of Turann,
Yet neither do I hate you any more.
Ye are somewhat purged: go forth and work the rest
Of your appointed task; and, if ye draw
Your lives from this last furnace, doing it
By virtue only of your native strength,
Your souls shall after know the recompense.
To your De Danann wings ye have Fohmor feet,
That love to keep you paddling in the slime.
Let them be cut from you that ye may soar.
89
O cruel and yet kind! fail not my brothers!
Seize this chance too, for danger is the sun
That gives the jewel, courage, all its light.
Oh! be yours thrust into its very heart,
Steeped in its fiery essence, till it blaze
As if with native flame unquenchable,
Paling all lights besides.
Brian.
Sister, what word
Spake we, what token showed, that savoured fear?
Yet speech of thine, though needless, being uttered
From such dear love, shall prove not profitless.
It shall surcharge our souls with overflow
Of daring;—on this voyage storm our sails
To wreckage or to haven. Now, farewell!
Nuadu, and ye Danann lords, farewell!
Eth.
Ah me! and shall I never see them more?
90
The vision changed and I beheld and heard.
A boat alone on a calm dawn-streaked sea:
Therein Turann's three sons;—the younger twain
Wound-prostrate stretched, but Brian still, though faint,
Bows not his weary head, and thus they speak.
Brian.
A boat alone on a calm dawn-streaked sea:
Therein Turann's three sons;—the younger twain
Wound-prostrate stretched, but Brian still, though faint,
Bows not his weary head, and thus they speak.
Brothers, we are near home. Not far I see,
Ben Edar's hill. Take heart and hold your lives
Close in the grip of courage, firm and strong:
Let nothing waste, and ye shall live to see
Our father and dear Ethnai, and the hills
That hold such memories of tenderness,
And the quick life of days, when life was strong
In our young breasts, 'twill be to plunge again
In a warm, medicinable healing bath,
To soothe your smarts, and yield you youth renewed.
Yuchar.
Ah! brother, but we shall not live till then;
The vessel of our spirit leaks too fast.
There is but one hope only: hast thou force
To lift us, gaining for our eyes a glimpse
Of Eirë's shores—that cordial drop might keep
Our fainting strength alive, till, the shore reached,
We could have draughts unstinted.
91
I will try.
Feeble I am, yet something less than you.
(He raises them one in each arm, with an effort.
The light grows more each moment. See, the sun
Is risen to help us, and the clear beam shows
Soft under cloud our lovely Ireland.
Yuchar.
Ah! I am better.
Yucharba.
And my strength revives.
Brian.
'Tis good; now will the boat move swiftlier,
Relieved of corpse-like weight, intolerable
To frame ethereal, wont to bear but gods.
We shall not die before we reach the land.
92
The vision changed: again I saw the Boyne,
And Ethnai on the banks; her brothers three
Arriving in the boat, and thus they spake.
Ethnai.
And Ethnai on the banks; her brothers three
Arriving in the boat, and thus they spake.
Brothers, again safe-home.
Brian.
Ay, we are home,
But in what measure safe thou seëst: we three
Have scarce amongst us left the life of one.
We cannot live but by the help of Lu.
Eth.
Alas! and he not near. But I will call
Our father, who with me has here kept watch
Through all your days of absence, absent now
By strange mischance; he will send word to Lu,
Who will not, sure, delay to come to you.
Brian.
Nay! tell him 'tis my thought we should be borne
Ourselves unto Lu's presence;—that face to face
'Twere best we meet at Tara. Hardly there,
Though cruel-thoughted still, will he refuse
Before the princes to afford us help.
Them too I would not from mine own lips assure
Our task has been fulfilled;—they from their bonds
Released;—and, strength sufficing, would relate
Of our true story were it but a word
To float our names over oblivion's sea.
O sister, haste, or all will be too late.
93
Turann and Ethnai, and her brothers three,
Lu, Nuadu, and the Dagda; thus they spake.
He comes. Alas! not mercy do I see
In those most mild, most unrelenting eyes.
Brian.
Lu, we have finished all, have giv'n thy message
To Balar, on his hill, and with my spear
Have smit the fiery head. But we ourselves
Are faint with deadly wounds. Oh! let us eat
Of that life-giving and exhaustless fruit,
Which we did bring thee home, or else we die.
Lu.
Ye may not have the fruit, for ye must die.
Brian.
Bethink thee, Lu! What champions like to us
Canst name of thy De Danann hosts? What deeds
Have any wrought that may compare with ours?
Lu.
The deeds are great. I lessen not the praise,
Which should be great to balance with your crime.
Brian.
Yet of the like once more thou may'st have need.
94
The sun from his high station sees the advance,
And day by day his journey circumscribes,
Not daring 'lumine the forsaken north,
He hides his head beneath an earlier cloud.
Lu.
I know. We are already nigh the gloom.
The shadow reaches to the plain of towers.
But I have that will make it shrink from thence,
Stung with the anguish of a deadly wound.
Brian.
Perchance. Yet if to thee are all things known
Save hope and fear, and mercy, their sweet child,
Belike these other princes, who still keep
Their hearts less sternly fixed in certitude,
Would gladly hear the story of our deeds,
Learn that our pledge has been fulfilled, and know
What souls are theirs, whom thou dost doom to death,
Pitiless Lu.
Lu.
Speak on; I hinder not.
Nuadu.
And our hearts burn to hear.
Brian.
My strength is small
Even of our latest journey to relate
The dreadful sights we saw, the words we heard.
The boat sped northward to the chilly seas,
Swiftly, yet, as we deemed, with course less swift
Than when it darted southwards, when the waves
Were warm and free. We wondered as we passed
The lines of glassy-floating, mountain isles,
The spectral splendours of the ruined bergs,
Flying as if from warfare and defeat,
While on their pinnacles the sun still danced
In melting mockery. But now the sky
Grew dark; and dismal was the land, whereon
The boat soon left us. Endless was the snow,
Save where the blackness of the barren rocks,
Swept bare by tempest gusts, showed hideously.
Far distant we descried the fiery hill,
With gleams of flame flitting about the top,
In cloud and smoke soon smothered from our sight.
Onward we pressed across the frightful land;
We scaled the crags, we leaped the precipice,
Sank in the snow-gulfs and arose therefrom,
Upborne by energies, we knew not whence
Derived, save that, perchance, in former toils,
Some qualities we had won, or from the taste
Of that restoring fruit, whereby we healed
Full many a wound else deadly, had acquired
A strength more godlike that we knew was ours.
Howbeit, nought restrained us; neither snow
Nor ice, nor precipice, nor gloom, nor all
The nameless terrors, hurrying ever by
Beyond our speed, unseen, but felt; our blood,
Of all cold heedless else, froze as they passed.
Froze as they passed, then knew a different pain.
For many a fiery shadow flitted by,
And scorched us: yet the terrible light was good
To guide our steps; and, many a time, the twain
The spirits of the ice and of the fire,
Against each other shocked with fearful woe.
For, tangled in the fire, the ice endured
Dissolving pangs; and, quenched in cold, the flame
Hissing in miserable anguish died.
Even of our latest journey to relate
The dreadful sights we saw, the words we heard.
The boat sped northward to the chilly seas,
Swiftly, yet, as we deemed, with course less swift
Than when it darted southwards, when the waves
Were warm and free. We wondered as we passed
The lines of glassy-floating, mountain isles,
The spectral splendours of the ruined bergs,
95
While on their pinnacles the sun still danced
In melting mockery. But now the sky
Grew dark; and dismal was the land, whereon
The boat soon left us. Endless was the snow,
Save where the blackness of the barren rocks,
Swept bare by tempest gusts, showed hideously.
Far distant we descried the fiery hill,
With gleams of flame flitting about the top,
In cloud and smoke soon smothered from our sight.
Onward we pressed across the frightful land;
We scaled the crags, we leaped the precipice,
Sank in the snow-gulfs and arose therefrom,
Upborne by energies, we knew not whence
Derived, save that, perchance, in former toils,
Some qualities we had won, or from the taste
Of that restoring fruit, whereby we healed
Full many a wound else deadly, had acquired
A strength more godlike that we knew was ours.
Howbeit, nought restrained us; neither snow
Nor ice, nor precipice, nor gloom, nor all
The nameless terrors, hurrying ever by
Beyond our speed, unseen, but felt; our blood,
Of all cold heedless else, froze as they passed.
Froze as they passed, then knew a different pain.
For many a fiery shadow flitted by,
And scorched us: yet the terrible light was good
To guide our steps; and, many a time, the twain
The spirits of the ice and of the fire,
96
For, tangled in the fire, the ice endured
Dissolving pangs; and, quenched in cold, the flame
Hissing in miserable anguish died.
Thus through the midst of terror and of griefs
We reached and stormed the mountain, urging there
The double labour of the upward path,
On steeps impatient of our steps; o'er chasms
More fearful;—'mid a wilder swirl of snow,
The angry mountain shaking all its robe
To smother us,—to crush within its folds:—
In vain; for our unconquerable strength
Still conquered: our resistless passion bore
Our bodies with the lightness of the bird,
With strength of iron;—through the fire as ice,
Through ice as fire, still raging, till at last
We reached the spot whereon our steps were stayed.
For there the snow ceased, and the rocks grew fierce
With heat, and spurned us backwards; and the light
Cast by the fiery shadows showed a gulf
Of precipice beneath it, and, below,
Some dim gigantic shapes, huddled in gloom.
We stood. Then from the mountain top no more
Flitted the gleams; and utter darkness fell;
And every sound of uproar and of wail
Grew silent, while the gulf sent forth these words.
“Cloud-vestured shapes of night,—ye that scarce dare
Own to yourselves your horrors,—ignorant gods,
Who hate all knowledge, seeing that in your hands
Useless, your foes convert it to your bane;
Who love no light, save the infernal fire's,
That lurid burns upon the volcan's crest,
Whereby our comrade spirits in bonds beneath
Ofttimes pour vengeance on their conquerors,
And cheer us by their aid;—dread shapes, ye know
That, driv'n from fire and refuged in the frost,
We seized wide new dominions to the south,
And ruled by cold as once we ruled by fire;
Also ye know too well the vast revolt,
That drove us melting northward and regained
To tender warmth and verdurous fruitfulness
Those lands, that we within the rigid gleam
Of snow-white icy death for ages held,
And, as we thought, should hold eternally;
The chains we forged were broken: oh! what pain
It was to see them from those lands uncoiled!
Yet had we joy thereof too:—such were the sores
They left behind upon the bruised earth's flesh,—
Mountains crushed, ground to fragments,—richest plains
O'ershower'd with lumps of desolating rock,
Huge as the heads of gods:—Oh! how they wept,
The fair De Dananns when they saw that woe!
We lapped their tears rejoicing. Then we strove,
Ere all remembrance of our rule should pass,
Ev'n from our own faint souls, to found again
A rival reign divided, till the whole
Should, as before, be ours. This we achieved.
We placed a yoke on the De Danann necks,
Galling, and yearly tribute took from them.
Soon they rebelled and slew our messengers,
Save some to bring us tidings of the shame;
Whereat, we rousing no reluctant wrath,
Summoned forthwith our armies to our ships
Thus charged—“Blot out that island from the earth;
Fold it once more close in the garb of ice;—
Baffle the sunlight from it; shield it well
From treacherous touches of the warmer gods:
So shall the bright ones cease to trouble us.”
I shook my frozen shores: forth went our fleets,
Our icebergs blue, that round them numbed the seas,
Laden with endless stores of hail and snow,
Enough we deemed to bury ten such isles
As Eirë”—here he stopped: and now the gleams
Shedding a feeble ray, we saw that one
Approached, to whom—like a resuming storm—
After a moment's calm he roared in rage,
“Speak, though it little needs that thou should'st speak;
Shrunk image of disaster, in whose eyes
Thy message is apparent;—yet speak, speak,
While any life is left to thee,—thy tidings,
How has our armament fared?” The answer this:—
“Wasted before the brightness of his face
Who erewhile vexed us.” Then a different voice,
Crookèd-mouthed Kethlend's. “Yes, 'tis he again,
Son of thy daughter and mine, far-reaching Lu,
The Fohmor's doom. Had I persuaded thee
To slay thine offspring, he had ne'er been born.
But thou didst weakly spare, thinking thy towers
Sieged by the leaping sea would hold secure
In barren loneliness thy daughter's life,
Whose seed should be thy peril. Weak thou hast been,
And easily outwitted. Fohmor blood
Runs now in veins De Danann. They have won
The elemental might that else was ours,
Which wanting, long and vainly they had fought.
Full oft their skill has triumphed o'er our strength;
But now that they have stolen half our strength,
Where is our hope? The vast brute force, which we,
In rude and ineffectual clumsiness,
Brutally wielded, they against us turn,
With keenly-skilled, complete dexterity.
Woe, woe, for we are ruined.” Then we heard
The voice of all most dreadful. “Cease thy wail!
Though all the Fohmors perish, I live on,
For ever to take vengeance.” Few the words,
Yet all the north grew colder, and there fell
A silence and a shuddering on the host,
Which first the voice of Balar broke again.
“Not with impunity they steal our might.
For ofttimes in their veins it shall rebel,
Working wild crime; and uncontrollably
Burst into raging tumult, that shall tear
Their carefull'st toil in fragments; yea and again
Like lead about their hearts, it shall be coiled
In deadly chill obstructive,—next their souls
Sleep in lethargic cold.
We reached and stormed the mountain, urging there
The double labour of the upward path,
On steeps impatient of our steps; o'er chasms
More fearful;—'mid a wilder swirl of snow,
The angry mountain shaking all its robe
To smother us,—to crush within its folds:—
In vain; for our unconquerable strength
Still conquered: our resistless passion bore
Our bodies with the lightness of the bird,
With strength of iron;—through the fire as ice,
Through ice as fire, still raging, till at last
We reached the spot whereon our steps were stayed.
For there the snow ceased, and the rocks grew fierce
With heat, and spurned us backwards; and the light
Cast by the fiery shadows showed a gulf
Of precipice beneath it, and, below,
Some dim gigantic shapes, huddled in gloom.
We stood. Then from the mountain top no more
Flitted the gleams; and utter darkness fell;
And every sound of uproar and of wail
Grew silent, while the gulf sent forth these words.
“Cloud-vestured shapes of night,—ye that scarce dare
Own to yourselves your horrors,—ignorant gods,
97
Useless, your foes convert it to your bane;
Who love no light, save the infernal fire's,
That lurid burns upon the volcan's crest,
Whereby our comrade spirits in bonds beneath
Ofttimes pour vengeance on their conquerors,
And cheer us by their aid;—dread shapes, ye know
That, driv'n from fire and refuged in the frost,
We seized wide new dominions to the south,
And ruled by cold as once we ruled by fire;
Also ye know too well the vast revolt,
That drove us melting northward and regained
To tender warmth and verdurous fruitfulness
Those lands, that we within the rigid gleam
Of snow-white icy death for ages held,
And, as we thought, should hold eternally;
The chains we forged were broken: oh! what pain
It was to see them from those lands uncoiled!
Yet had we joy thereof too:—such were the sores
They left behind upon the bruised earth's flesh,—
Mountains crushed, ground to fragments,—richest plains
O'ershower'd with lumps of desolating rock,
Huge as the heads of gods:—Oh! how they wept,
The fair De Dananns when they saw that woe!
We lapped their tears rejoicing. Then we strove,
Ere all remembrance of our rule should pass,
Ev'n from our own faint souls, to found again
A rival reign divided, till the whole
Should, as before, be ours. This we achieved.
98
Galling, and yearly tribute took from them.
Soon they rebelled and slew our messengers,
Save some to bring us tidings of the shame;
Whereat, we rousing no reluctant wrath,
Summoned forthwith our armies to our ships
Thus charged—“Blot out that island from the earth;
Fold it once more close in the garb of ice;—
Baffle the sunlight from it; shield it well
From treacherous touches of the warmer gods:
So shall the bright ones cease to trouble us.”
I shook my frozen shores: forth went our fleets,
Our icebergs blue, that round them numbed the seas,
Laden with endless stores of hail and snow,
Enough we deemed to bury ten such isles
As Eirë”—here he stopped: and now the gleams
Shedding a feeble ray, we saw that one
Approached, to whom—like a resuming storm—
After a moment's calm he roared in rage,
“Speak, though it little needs that thou should'st speak;
Shrunk image of disaster, in whose eyes
Thy message is apparent;—yet speak, speak,
While any life is left to thee,—thy tidings,
How has our armament fared?” The answer this:—
“Wasted before the brightness of his face
Who erewhile vexed us.” Then a different voice,
Crookèd-mouthed Kethlend's. “Yes, 'tis he again,
Son of thy daughter and mine, far-reaching Lu,
The Fohmor's doom. Had I persuaded thee
99
But thou didst weakly spare, thinking thy towers
Sieged by the leaping sea would hold secure
In barren loneliness thy daughter's life,
Whose seed should be thy peril. Weak thou hast been,
And easily outwitted. Fohmor blood
Runs now in veins De Danann. They have won
The elemental might that else was ours,
Which wanting, long and vainly they had fought.
Full oft their skill has triumphed o'er our strength;
But now that they have stolen half our strength,
Where is our hope? The vast brute force, which we,
In rude and ineffectual clumsiness,
Brutally wielded, they against us turn,
With keenly-skilled, complete dexterity.
Woe, woe, for we are ruined.” Then we heard
The voice of all most dreadful. “Cease thy wail!
Though all the Fohmors perish, I live on,
For ever to take vengeance.” Few the words,
Yet all the north grew colder, and there fell
A silence and a shuddering on the host,
Which first the voice of Balar broke again.
“Not with impunity they steal our might.
For ofttimes in their veins it shall rebel,
Working wild crime; and uncontrollably
Burst into raging tumult, that shall tear
Their carefull'st toil in fragments; yea and again
Like lead about their hearts, it shall be coiled
In deadly chill obstructive,—next their souls
100
But let us leave
These comforts to the future! we shall now
Have joy of war, whose like has never yet
Made havoc of their peace. We shall arouse
All forms of battle: earth shall quake and heave,
The mountain belch its fires, the tempest plunge,
Like a huge monster into ocean's depths,
And splash th' abysses on the deluged land.
There shall be war of beasts: the monster forms,
They deemed they had laid low, shall wake again
With worse than ancient terrors. We will fight
Ev'n in the human shape, and to the heart
Of this their last creation strike such fear,
As ages yet unborn shall tremble with.”
Then Kethlend answered crooked-mouthed and shrill:
“O words of Balar worthy! Who is here,
That will not for such leader tax his might?
Kings of the darkness, from your silences
Come forth and make your offers. Say what aid
Will each afford us in the war resolved.”
These comforts to the future! we shall now
Have joy of war, whose like has never yet
Made havoc of their peace. We shall arouse
All forms of battle: earth shall quake and heave,
The mountain belch its fires, the tempest plunge,
Like a huge monster into ocean's depths,
And splash th' abysses on the deluged land.
There shall be war of beasts: the monster forms,
They deemed they had laid low, shall wake again
With worse than ancient terrors. We will fight
Ev'n in the human shape, and to the heart
Of this their last creation strike such fear,
As ages yet unborn shall tremble with.”
Then Kethlend answered crooked-mouthed and shrill:
“O words of Balar worthy! Who is here,
That will not for such leader tax his might?
Kings of the darkness, from your silences
Come forth and make your offers. Say what aid
Will each afford us in the war resolved.”
Thereat arose such tumult, such wild storm
Of voices indistinguishable, of all
The evil powers of the ancient world,
That still endured, mighty, though in decay,
Proffering all their strength for Balar's war,
No uproar, when the waves defy the winds
To outroar them, in the winter's wildest dark,
Could equal that loud blast of clamours fell,
Promising stintless mischief and revenge.
But when it ceased, shrill Kethlend's voice resumed,
“Thus have the upper powers declared their hearts.
Spirit of fire beneath, what sayest thou?”
Then from the mountain top—Alas! my strength
Fails me—there rose a giant head of fire,
Blood-red; whose light showed us for many a league
Of Hecla's snows, the innumerable host
Of Fohmors, monstrous beasts, and gods deformed,
Close girdling that prodigious council round.
Then we, approaching near to the cliff's brink,
And grasping firm our spears, these words I spake:—
“Balar, by Lu's command, I bring thee word.
He is prepared, and bids thee not delay
To meet him at Moytura. He defies
Thy powers ungovernable; and as the sign,
We hurl our spears at yonder frightful head.”
We hurled. Mine only struck; but from the wound
Outpoured a torrent of the fiery blood.
The astonied host burst into laughter loud,
Discordant, horrible; but while they laughed,
Down on them rolled the flood, and of their might
Gonsumed a third, while sank the fiery head
With groans amazing to his inward lair,
And darkness, banished for a while, returned.
And we beneath the rocks crouched low in fear,
Conscious of nought, save that around us raged
Worse tumult than if earth were burst in twain,
That dured how long we know not, till once more
The words of Balar over all we heard:
“Ye Fohmor remnants, are ye round me still?”
Whereto the answering acclamation rang,
“All, all!” and instant followed the command,
“Then on to Eirë.”
Of voices indistinguishable, of all
The evil powers of the ancient world,
That still endured, mighty, though in decay,
Proffering all their strength for Balar's war,
No uproar, when the waves defy the winds
To outroar them, in the winter's wildest dark,
101
Promising stintless mischief and revenge.
But when it ceased, shrill Kethlend's voice resumed,
“Thus have the upper powers declared their hearts.
Spirit of fire beneath, what sayest thou?”
Then from the mountain top—Alas! my strength
Fails me—there rose a giant head of fire,
Blood-red; whose light showed us for many a league
Of Hecla's snows, the innumerable host
Of Fohmors, monstrous beasts, and gods deformed,
Close girdling that prodigious council round.
Then we, approaching near to the cliff's brink,
And grasping firm our spears, these words I spake:—
“Balar, by Lu's command, I bring thee word.
He is prepared, and bids thee not delay
To meet him at Moytura. He defies
Thy powers ungovernable; and as the sign,
We hurl our spears at yonder frightful head.”
We hurled. Mine only struck; but from the wound
Outpoured a torrent of the fiery blood.
The astonied host burst into laughter loud,
Discordant, horrible; but while they laughed,
Down on them rolled the flood, and of their might
Gonsumed a third, while sank the fiery head
With groans amazing to his inward lair,
And darkness, banished for a while, returned.
And we beneath the rocks crouched low in fear,
Conscious of nought, save that around us raged
Worse tumult than if earth were burst in twain,
102
The words of Balar over all we heard:
“Ye Fohmor remnants, are ye round me still?”
Whereto the answering acclamation rang,
“All, all!” and instant followed the command,
“Then on to Eirë.”
We who have seen these things,
Have dared these things, O Danann princes, we
For life most idly have entreated Lu:
We beg no more. Judge ye, having thus heard
Our story, if the just reward be death.
Have dared these things, O Danann princes, we
For life most idly have entreated Lu:
We beg no more. Judge ye, having thus heard
Our story, if the just reward be death.
Nuadu.
Lu, thou art wise and mighty. Wilt thou spare?
Lu.
Not thus may ancient councils suffer change.
Think not that now we may endeavour to bend
To altered shapes the cast of destiny,
Nor break the whole. Would ye begin anew,
Return to chaos? Not for purposes
Like this, may that most precious fruit be used,
Nor life like ours, is their due recompense,
In whom, though half subdued, the foe still dwells,
But other dooms, and different rewards.
Ethnai.
This then is not the end, though now they die?
Lu.
Thou speakest well. Before them still there lies
Much not entirely good, nor wholly ill;—
But mingled pain and glory; stormy joys,
And slow deliverance into light and peace.
Eth.
Brothers, be comforted! Ye hear his words.
103
Brian.
Alas! we die. Oh, sister loved, farewell;
O, aged sire, farewell. One doom is ours.
Yucharba's light is out, and Yuchar's fails,
Mine flickers low to them.
104
With Lu upon the mountain top, and spake.
'Tis morn, but what a morn! Such light as is
Gleams from the west, pallid, as 'twere the ghost
Of yesterday's departed sun returned.
The plain with icy mist is rolled: the hills,
Twice piled with ebon darkness, from their brows
Send waves of darkness, horrible, like the frown
Of some vile living thing that crouched beneath.
Ah! what is that?
Lu.
Fear not, 'tis he awakes,
The old dragon Balar, and yon scarlet lightning
Is but his lifted crest. If I should smite
That cloud in sunder now, thou would'st behold
Writhing confusion of the horrible brood,
As when one lifts a stone, that long has lain
Untouched, and frighted from the unwelcome light,
The noisome crawling things uncovered flee.
Fintan.
But war they not in human shape to-day?
105
In part they will; but round them still shall cling
Their monster imperfections,—the fair shape
Divine degraded by some bestial twist,
The vile soul bending to its likeness vile;—
Their closest imitations in such wise
With horror starred, that, did'st thou look too near,
Thy sense would not endure it, but would rend
The body from it to escape bolt-speed.
Therefore, of all that comes to pass to-day,
Thou shalt behold but little. Some few things,
Such as are nearest human, thou may'st see
In full. Of others thou shalt have report.
But I will dim thine eyes, will dull thine ears,
That of the horrible horror, the fearful fear
Thou may'st have nothing but a general sense,
That shall oppress and awe thee, but not slay.
Moreover to the fight I go not forth
Until mid-day. Against the southward foe,
By Orbsen's lake, Nuadu heads the war;
Northward the Dagda and bright Ogmai lead
Where yonder cloud fronts thickest:—night by day
Sick-smitten, yet defiant. See, it moves
Towards us, that under shelter of the gloom
Accustomed, better may their armies war,
But ours the worse, confused. This shall not be.
[He takes off his helmet, and a burst of radiance streams on the advancing cloud, and causes it to shrink back to the mountain of Ben Gulban.
Now shalt thou see beginning of the war;
106
Grievous with treachery, with blood, with pain.
[The De Danann hosts are seen issuing from their tents, and pouring forth to meet the Fohmors, who in vast array move towards them. The Fohmors at first appear to gain the advantage; but the De Dananns pour on them an over-whelming shower of fiery darts, which checks their advance, and soon obliges them to retreat. This they do slowly, and from their mountain barrier a thick cloud comes down with snow and sleet, thunder and lightning, and darkness, and the De Dananns are obliged to withdraw.
A messenger arrives.
Lu.
What tidings dost thou bring? Ourselves have seen
The sum; resolve thou the particulars.
Messenger.
Thou saw'st at first we yielded to the foe.
Terrible was their onset: at their aspect
We reeled in terror. Some like, in the main,
Unto ourselves, were twice our stature and bulk,
And hideous-visaged, with perpetual change
Of horror sweeping o'er their features fierce,
Like waves, whose depth some raging monster hides,
As the malignant spirit worked within.
These were the least; for countless multitudes
Showed awful mimicry of our fair shapes;—
One-eyed, one-legged, one-handed some: others
Butted with monster heads of goats, and some
With horns of bulls, and some had serpent jaws
107
For fingers had long claws, sharper than knives.
These all had bodies something like to ours;
But others had our heads, with bodies of beasts,
And rushed on us with weight of roaring bulls,
Leaped with the spring of lions: some had wings
Of frightful flesh unfeathered; marvellest thou
We shrank from such? Yet courage came to us,
And on them did we pour merciless rain
Of fire-tipped spears, that rushed with deadly life
Animate, failing none a prey to find.
So slaughtered horribly, their cries arose
For help to Balar, and he answered them,
And rolled a covering down of densest cloud,
From whose black womb fell, in thick blinding showers,
The white cold petrifying dust: our eyes
Were as they had not been, our feet were clogged;
Our ears with crashing thunders stunned; and when
This tempest ceased, and the mist cleared, no more
Saw we of those fell armies, save their dead;
And from the mountain-rested cloud we heard,
The wails for their defeat, their moans of pain.
Fintan.
Is all then over?
Lu.
Hardly yet begun.
[Ruadan approaches.
Lu.
Who art thou that dost dare, not being De Danann,
Into our camp? Although thy Fohmor soul
Be masked full well it is not hid from me.
Ruadan.
Let not thy wrath destroy me, mighty Lu,
108
On thee to work deception. What I seem
I am; for I am Ruadan, son of Bress,
And grandson of the Dagda. Therefore my face,
Lies not, declaring me to be in part
No Fohmor; and on embassage I come,
Chosen for the sake of my De Danann blood,
To beg for peace; which granted, from these shores
Balar withdraws his hosts, and swears an oath,
To vex them through all ages nevermore.
Lu.
It seems ye soon grow weary of the war.
Ruadan.
De Dananns grow more mighty day by day,
But wearier ever are the Fohmor limbs,
Laden with heavier fetters of old age,
Viewless, but not by any art disforged.
Lu.
Say for what reason should I grant this peace?
Why should I spare to slay you utterly,
Being, as ye own, the stronger?
Ruadan.
For this cause.
Perchance thou may'st not slay us utterly;
And greater profit for the feeble race
Of men thou mightest win by compact made
Granting us territories fixed;—the rest
Though less than universal, yet with bounds
Inviolable secured, where men may dwell
In peace that knows no trouble; for thou know'st
That else, they, living on the borderland
Of being, shall for ever bear the brunt
Of war between us, crushed and spoiled alike
109
An evil destiny: release them from it,
By faithful peace to last for evermore.
Lu.
And faithful peace with Fohmors who shall find?
Small were our gain, and great the loss to yield
What now ye lack, title and claim assured
To even the pettiest province of the world;
To cede the least part of our heritage
To your dominion; nay! for ye shall know
Yourselves intruders without claim or right;
Shall feel the doom of banishment impend
Perpetually o'er your detested power:
Begone, before my wrath more fiercely blaze.
Ruadan.
Hear from me this petition, then, O Lu!
Let me with the De Danann hosts abide.
Why should I perish with those armies doomed?
Should not that part of me, which is De Danann,
Rather have power to save the Fohmor part,
Than suffer shame to be itself destroyed,
By that, which is the feeble and the vile.
Even thou thyself, 'tis said, hast Fohmor blood,
Thy mother being Balar's daughter, and yet
Art chief of the De Dananns. If in me
The baser part be more, let it not hinder
Among the lowliest of thy hosts to serve.
Lu.
'Tis true my mother gave me Fohmor blood,
And therewith many things; whereof the least
Is not that I can pierce through Fohmor wiles,
And face soft arts with rock-built stubbornness;
110
Thy fine De Danann skill a beaten slave,
To serve the purpose of the baser strength.
Thy grandsire was that Elathan, who drew,
With lavish gold and glitter-tinsel gifts,
The vainest of our maids to his embrace;
His son, thy father Bress, by subtlety
Grasping rule over us, sought to make dull
With slow, cold wiles the brightness of our souls.
Each knowledge, one by one he sought to quench,
And ere we knew, to sleep eternal numb,
As frost-sleep lulls reluctant-willing limbs.
But we were roused and drove him out from us.
Yet thou for safety askest, born of traitors,
The hardest of all souls that be to save.
Ruadan.
Yet for my parentage condemn me not.
No fault of mine that I am sprung from such,
No crime the nature I received at birth.
Lu.
Though it be not thy fault, it is thy fate.
Fierce beasts, that rend, and deadly things, that sting,
Choose not their nature, yet are slain for it.
Howbeit, for thine own doom thou workest. Stay.
Ruadan.
O thou veiled radiance, accept my thanks.
This gracious boon more mild than are thy words
Now gives me chance to show my nature true.
Lu.
And surely thou wilt show it. Leave my sight.
(To a warrior).
Follow and bring me word of the event.
'Twill not be long ere thou hast word to bring.
111
The southern battle will be soonest o'er.
Which won, the seas of our De Danann might,
Reflooded by those absent tides, shall rise
Resistless ocean o'er the northward foe.
[Nuadu, the Dagda, Ogmai and a crowd of warriors approach.
Lu.
Thou com'st expected, glorious Nuadu.
Nuadu.
Leader of arms De Danann, Lord of light,
I bring thee tidings of full victory.
The dwarfish hosts are routed, spoiled and slain.
Lu.
Words of the doer worthy. Thou hast achieved
The whole full sum of possibility.
Not less we looked for, nor could hope for more,
So well and swiftly has the task been wrought.
Nuadu.
We drove them to the jaws of Oribsen,
Who swallowed multitudes, but holds a few
As islets in his lake, henceforth, in sign
Of this day's triumph. Some in terror found,
Like burrowing creatures, way to the mid earth,
Through sudden openings, riddling all the land.
Belgadan helped us, and the giant twelve
Of Bjola, who keep firm their mountain square
To every point of heaven, back to the lake
Shaking them, who had thought to climb and 'scape.
Thus did our waves and mountains keep the oath
They swore to aid us, well remembering
The age-long suffocation of the cold,
That caked their waters from the rippling winds,
112
The eating anguish of the icy teeth,
That carved their bones. Therefore for us they fought
Lest that chill rule oppress them once again.
Lu.
But say what has befall'n thy valiant hand.
Nuadu.
'Twas wounded from me by a broad spear stroke.
Thereat I sought the help of Dianket,
Our sage physician, and he made me this,
A silver hand, that with most cunning art
Joined to mine arm partakes the life and moves
Obedient supple fingers as the old.
Lu.
Rare skill indeed! Henceforth thy name shall be
Nuadu Argat-lawm; thou shalt outstretch
A hand no more thy own, a silver sway
Mild and beloved, long ages to endure.
[The messenger sent with Ruadan returns.
What hast thou seen?
Mess.
Thy words' fulfilment swift.
I followed Ruadan. Leaving thy presence
Straightway he sought the forge with misty roof,
Deep in the hollow of the mountain glen,
And from the doorkeeper besought that now,
Being De Danann, he might pass within,
And see the wonders to his eyes yet new.
Permission giv'n he entered, and passed on,
I following, mid the piles of arms, wherein
The spirit of battle murmured, to the place
Where the three marvellous artificers,
113
Toiled with unwearied speed, unceasingly.
The last, the master-smith, the metal seized,
Wrought into instant shape by touches three,
The last a finish, and to Crednai passed,
Bronze-worker he, who likewise by three strokes,
The last a finish, riveted and passed
To Luchtinai, worker in wood, who wrought
The shaft with touches three, and by the third
Finished, gave on the work to women's hands,
Who bound in bundles, and upbuilt in piles,
That, while we watched a moment, mountains grew.
Then Ruadan to Gobnïu bending low
His head, as if in reverence, thus spake:
“I pray thee, Gobnïu, and since I am
De Danann now, and have forsaken quite
The hated Fohmors doomed, refuse me not;
Grant me that here my weapon I receive,
Straight from thy hands, that, honoured thus, my soul
May feel itself De Danann, and have strength
Assured on this the righteous side to war.”
Gobnïu, grimly silent, nodded assent;
And by a woman was the spear last made
Given to Ruadan, who carefully
Held, and with loving glances gazed on it;
Then, raising in his hand, as if to try
How best it should be poised, with sudden stroke
Treacherous, hurled it at the mighty smith;
Whose breast it had transfixed, if he with hand
114
And, quick as polished shield flings back the beam,
Re-hurled the dart upon the traitor, who fell
With instant sudden vengeance overwhelmed.
Lu.
Behold ye now the Fohmor plot revealed.
Peace offered, ne'er intended;—then the wile
Of Ruadan, dissembler vainly bold.
Thus from the Fohmor the De Danann fails,
And all that ancient plot, whereby was won,
Through Elathan's deceit, our foolish maid,
Is brought to nought. Light shall no longer serve
To guide blind darkness on its deadly way.
And now already are the foe aware
What fate their crafty envoy hath befall'n;
And like to waters, when the wind and frost
Contend, one rousing what the one would lull,
So fear and wrath are battling in their souls.
Now shall the sun come help the wind of wrath,
To draw them from their lurking. I will lift
My helmet. Once this day I lifted it,
Ere eve will lift again.
(Takes off his helmet.)
Peace offered, ne'er intended;—then the wile
Of Ruadan, dissembler vainly bold.
Thus from the Fohmor the De Danann fails,
And all that ancient plot, whereby was won,
Through Elathan's deceit, our foolish maid,
Is brought to nought. Light shall no longer serve
To guide blind darkness on its deadly way.
And now already are the foe aware
What fate their crafty envoy hath befall'n;
And like to waters, when the wind and frost
Contend, one rousing what the one would lull,
So fear and wrath are battling in their souls.
Now shall the sun come help the wind of wrath,
To draw them from their lurking. I will lift
My helmet. Once this day I lifted it,
Ere eve will lift again.
Behold ye now
How my swift spears of light probe to the depths
Yon seas of cloud, and scatter them: the foe
Bared of their covering, the sharp stings feel,
And, roused to rage, roll down the mountain sides
Their frightful regiments, multitudinous.
The war regathers to its end. Go forth,
Ye triple leaders of the Danann light,
King, bard, and warrior. Against you march
The hideous chiefs of darkness, triple too,
Indech deformer, and deceiver Bress,
And Tethra, great destroyer. One remains,
Yet from his lair unmoving to the last,
Balar, the deadly-eyed, my foe. Till he
Descends into the thick, must I still keep
My post wide-watchful here, above the noise
Of battle, and the densely rolling fume,
With ear discerning, and with eyes undimmed.
How my swift spears of light probe to the depths
Yon seas of cloud, and scatter them: the foe
Bared of their covering, the sharp stings feel,
And, roused to rage, roll down the mountain sides
Their frightful regiments, multitudinous.
The war regathers to its end. Go forth,
Ye triple leaders of the Danann light,
115
The hideous chiefs of darkness, triple too,
Indech deformer, and deceiver Bress,
And Tethra, great destroyer. One remains,
Yet from his lair unmoving to the last,
Balar, the deadly-eyed, my foe. Till he
Descends into the thick, must I still keep
My post wide-watchful here, above the noise
Of battle, and the densely rolling fume,
With ear discerning, and with eyes undimmed.
The Dagda.
We hear thy words, great leader, and obey.
116
The vision changed, and I beheld and heard.
[By a fountain near the lake, a large bronze vessel simmers
slowly over a small fire. On one side stands Dianket,
the physician, on the other his daughter Armedda, both
having herbs in their hands. They walk round the
cauldron, throwing in herbs from time to time.
Dianket.
In the fiery cauldron
Mix the sweet and bitter
Herbs, whose essence joining
Yields the drink life-giving.
Mix the sweet and bitter
Herbs, whose essence joining
Yields the drink life-giving.
Earth has forces deadly,
Hence the plant of poison,
Potent yet with virtue,—
Strong for self-destroying.
Hence the plant of poison,
Potent yet with virtue,—
Strong for self-destroying.
Armedda.
Earth has powers benignant;
They the deadly leading,
Force their strength unwilling
Into paths of healing.
They the deadly leading,
Force their strength unwilling
Into paths of healing.
117
In the fiery cauldron
Mix the sweet and bitter
Herbs, whose essence joining
Yields the drink life-giving.
Mix the sweet and bitter
Herbs, whose essence joining
Yields the drink life-giving.
Dianket.
Narrow is here the islet,
Peace, whereon we stand;
War's waste waters roaring
Round our menaced land.
Why so loud their anger,
But because they know
This the rock we stand on
Kin with rock below,
Is but eldest from their deeps in rising?
Many a peak they feel
Cleaving through their wave,
Heaving off the shallows;
Hence they rave.
Soon they know their powers will be banished;
Far and wide their rule shall fail and cease:
From the darkness of the waters barren,
Rise the smiling continents of peace.
Armedda.
Here shall come the warrior,
From whose veins the strife
Drains his blood, to suckle
At the breasts of life;
Those that here renew not
Strength and might shall fail:
118
Can at last prevail.
We shall teach our children to be valiant;
We shall win for them the earth's increase;
Till the war-beast, starved and famished,
Crouches conquered at the feet of peace.
[A number of De Dananns come in bearing bodies of their comrades, some wounded and some dead. Dianket takes the fluid from the cauldron, and sprinkles the latter, and makes them drink, when they have revived. These presently return to the fight. More are brought in, and are treated in the same way, Armedda assisting. At length Dianket stops one about to return, saying;—
Dianket.
Three times hast thou been slain, three times revived,
Most valorous De Danann: rest thee now,
Or all our skill may fail to heal again.
Rest thee and give us news how fares the war.
Soldier.
Not well for us it fares. Confusions strange
Break the De Danann might, and work us woe.
With steadfast strength resistless fought we first,
Driving the foe before us: then we felt
Some sickly influence, the subtle breath
Of Indech, creeping o'er us like a mist,
Tainting our hearts with doubt that made us pause
To eye, with glance suspicious, each his fellow,
For each looked strange, so to the other it seemed
119
At first befell; the Dagda's mightier art
Kept check on those foul workings of the foe.
Thus equal was the battle poised awhile;
Till came word suddenly “the Dagda's camp
Was plundered by the Fohmors, all its guard
First slaughtered.” Swiftly from the fronting foe
Turned he, the minstrel god; since from the hands
Of the abominable enemy
Forthwith must all his treasures rescued be.
Meantime the horror that ensued how tell?
For now the arts of Indech wrought unchecked.
Over us rolled the dim, confusing mist;—
Pernicious; for the comrade by my side,
This moment godlike fair—was a monster
Nameless and loathsome, freezing me with fear.
Then frenzied into sudden rage, I sprang
With deadly leap on him, and through and through
His frightful body drave my sword, and turned
Thus on the next and next, fatal to all.
So raged I, heedless of the countless wounds
That ate my flesh from me, till, nothing left
Save gory bones, life failed me, and I fell.
Dianket.
Wast thou the only one afflicted thus?
Second Soldier.
It was the same with me.
Third Soldier.
With me.
Fourth Soldier.
With me.
Fifth Soldier.
I was with Nuadu, our glorious king,
Round whom a band not numerous escaped
120
One half the host grew monsters, like to those
We fought at morn; and they, and all the rest
Fell on each other, as ye just have heard.
Imagine a vast pit, wherein were thrown
All earth's most deadly creatures; those, whose claws
Plant themselves root-like in the living flesh,
Inseparable, while sword-sharp teeth devour:
The coiling python add, the poison-snake,
While mighty beasts that fight but in defence,
Then terribly, with arm of tusk and horn,
Stamp, roar, and rend: then to this hell of hate,
Blood, rage and death throw in the gentle things,
Defenceless save by flight, but flight is none;
And ye may faintly dream what agony
Has passed this day upon the plain of towers.
But we, who knew from evil Indech's art
Flowed this foul mischief, strove amain to reach
The source to choke it: vainly strove, for still
Did he, the horrible, elude us, hiding
In cunning clouds, and urging all his craft
Us too, if it might be, within his power
To draw to our destruction, while around,
Our army, like the water in the cauldron
Lapped in the laving flame, more wildly boiled,
And hissed and bubbled into nothingness;
Till thus a third of our De Danann host
Hath perished, self-consumed.
Dianket.
Beyond all words
121
But where is Ogmai? Mighty strength is his.
Hath he no aid to lend to Nuadu?
Soldier.
With Bress he closed in combat, and 'tis said
Drave headlong in pursuit, and vanished far,
None can tell where.
Armedda.
Ah me! do ye behold,
How thick the darkness folds us. Hell comes nigh;
What faces on the gloom! The siabra,
Horrible phantoms; and more dreadful still,
See ye that giant shadow, and the gleam
Of that enormous sword, that seems to cleave
The heaven in twain, self-guided? nam'st thou that?
Dianket.
Tethra that giant shadow, and the sword
His sword:—yet have no fear. The Dagda lives,
And valiant Ogmai surely; and above,
Throned in calm light, Lu sits upon the hill
High o'er this rage of darkness: lo! already
The light returns, the shadows come less thick,
Their leer less baleful;—Heard ye that sound?
Arm.
We heard.
Dianket.
But one thing in the world can yield that sound,
The Dagda's harp touched by the Dagda's hand.
Arm.
What can the meaning be?
Dianket.
It cannot fail
Of import good for us:
[Some wounded De Dananns are brought in, Dianket heals them. As they are about to depart he lays his hand on one and stops him.
122
Stay, stay! thy news for us! wounded are we
By tidings dolorous. Requite our skill,
Life-giving by thy tidings, which, we deem,
Life-giving to our fainting hearts shall prove.
Soldier.
The deeds of the mighty Dagda—more are they
Than hurried lips can now recount to thee.
He has restored our battle, rallied the whole,
And presses deadly on the yielding foe.
Dianket.
Nay, but more fully must we hear the tale,
Else have no heart to heal the wounded more.
Soldier.
Hear then in brief. Not long we fought, ere word
Was to the Dagda brought, his camp to east
Was plundered by the Fohmors. Straight he turned
To succour, yet was late: the robber band
Had seized his harp, his chiefest treasure, and fled.
Swift as a storm-borne cloud was his pursuit.
The foe o'ertaken knew not he was near.
We found them camped upon the mountain slope,
And scattered in disorder, while they passed
From hand to hand profane the wondrous harp;
Each, in succession, striving to draw forth
Those sounds that are divine, being the echoes
Of thoughts, that wander through the soul divine
Of him, the great musician: but the harp,
Such were its master's spells, uttered no sound.
Then, fruitless finding it, they cried in rage,
“Break it, lest e'er returning to his hands,
123
“Come to me” said the god; and from their grasp
The harp obedient flew, and on its way
Slew of the spoilers nine. He touched the strings,
And, straightway, all their hosts with idiot laughter
Convulsive cackled: when he touched again,
They groaned and wept: but, when, once more, he played,
Charm-smitten into helpless sleep they fell.
“Now let us slay them” rose a general cry.
But he, our chief commanded “touch them not;
Yonder is need more pressing.” O'er the ground
Close by, a thick cloud hovered: and we saw
Swifter than lightning, a gigantic sword,
Wielded by hands unseen, sweep to and fro
From heaven to earth incessant, dealing death,
To whom we knew not, though we guessed full well.
But underneath the darkness of that cloud
We found the plain strewn thick with senseless forms,
De Danann comrades, whom, by Ogmai led,
Bress had lured onward in his feigned retreat,
To this mephitic field, where soon they sank,
O'ercome by lethargy,—for Tethra's sword
Victims, that took the stroke, nor turned away.
There too lay valiant Ogmai still unslain:
To whom the Dagda crying “waken thou,
Or sleep for ever,” sounded on his harp
One keen and vibrant note: and Ogmai rose,
And with him all his armies, like the waves,
When falls the tempest on the sleeping sea.
124
[The Fohmor camp on Benbulben. Balar slumbering heavily.
Kethlend.
Arise, thou monster sluggard of the world!
The Fohmors perish and thou heedest not;
Though trusting to thy valiant-sounding words,
They followed thee to battle, when secure
They might have dwelt among the crystal hills
That crown the world with death, proof against life.
Now they are slaughtered, and thou slumberest:
Wake, lift thy heavy eyelid, and let fly
The deadly beam it hides, and freeze this wave
Of Danann victory, that overwhelms
Elusive, subtle Indech, and the wiles
Of Bress, and washes them aside like weeds:—
Balar.
Why this loud clamour? Let me sleep in peace!
I am deep-weary; yet thou fill'st my dreams
With trouble of thy hollow warning words,
A-travel for long ages through my brain.
How many centuries have I slept? Thou sayest
Indech and Bress fly?
125
Yea and much more!
Awake, and see, thyself, our mightiest
Crouching down, weaponless, in sullen woe!
How fare we, think'st thou, when the Danann strength
Can clutch the sword from Tethra's giant hands?
While he the fearful one, who ne'er before
Knew fear, now trembles helpless; rise, oh rise!
No weapon save thy deadly orb have we.
Balar.
Yes! but I shudder now the doom foretold
Gigantic tow'rs above me. I may slay
The lesser Dananns, yet remains there one,
The bright descendant of the Kings of night,
With delicate arms unerring. Wherefore toil
To win the petty, useless victory;—
To climb the easy slope, above whose pent
The crags enormous, ready to be hurled,
Lean charged with vast, inevitable death,
If touched with gentlest finger. Death shall be
A dreadful thing to men, who dure an hour,
Mere midges of existence, misty swarms:
But unto gods, who from the first have been:—
Themselves the source of all things, one with all;
To be thrust out from their own universe,
Or worse, consumed, devoured, their forces drained,
To know that slain, they feed their enemy,
And leave him lord eternal;—Oh! what pain!
What grief intolerable.
Keth.
At last awake,
Since thou canst groan enough to shake the earth.
126
To fall our conquerors' prey, give them at least
Fresh cause to recollect thee. Stamp once more,
Our image on their hearts, deeper than ever
In night's original, intensest dyes;
Shadow them with thy terror once again;
That never to eternity's last end,
The darkness of the Fohmor fear may cease
To dim their souls.
Balar.
I rise and I go forth.
Yet it is late to speak such words as these.
Shall I, thus old and weary, who am become
Negation merely, hope to work more woe,
Than in my strenuous prime of active force,
Aged evil pitted against youthful good?
Keth.
Lie here, then, and be slain. Thou dost forget
Thy choice is narrow,—either to be slain
With some revenge, or none: why not choose some?
Sting thou, and leave the venom to create
What pangs thou knowest not; there must remain
Large potency of evil in thee still;
Keep'st thou no lurking thought to spare thyself?
A thrice decocted drop from thine old frame,
Diseased negation though thou be, may work
With subtlety of deadlier agony,
Than all the poison brewed by youthful force.
And if so be thou diest, then shall thy corpse
Cumber the plain, huge and immovable,
A mighty barrier, against pursuit,
127
That o'er the corse of Balar none may pass,
Save he who hews therefrom a limb and hides,
Beneath all resurrection, deep in earth;
A hard endeavour, for what mountain's weight
Shall trammel the least part of thee, though dead?
Therefore delay no more, but forth and fight.
Balar.
I go. Yet do I feel, I scarce have strength
To lift the heavy covering of mine eye.
Oh! I am very weary, I am old.
Keth.
Well: here is one will help thee mightily.
The swordless Tethra will uplift thy lid.
His hands are free, and surely they are strong.
Teth.
Yea, I will help thee, and regaining thus
In part my terror, make more deadly thine.
128
How shall I tell of that last battle I saw
Dim veiled in mist, myself safe on the hill?
Back did the rallying Fohmor armies roll
The erst victorious Dananns, overtower'd
By that huge shape of ancient brutish ill,
Balar, uproused at last in his despair.
His coming was as if the mountain rose,
And towards us moved; the winter round his head,
Laden with snow-clouds hung, and from the throats
Of crags roared thunder-threats of gust and storm.
Beside him stalked that ghastliness, whose rage
So for his lost sword burned, it all but made
His full shape visible, a fresh dismay.
Fled not at first the Dananns, fear-enthralled,
Till came the dread ones nigh; then Balar sank
Groaning upon his knees, and o'er his head
Leaned Tethra, and the eyelid long unraised
Lifted, though ponderous, and the deadly beam
Leapt forth, and far in front the hapless foe
Stiffened to frosty statues on the plain,
Their life that moment gone for evermore,
So great the price Moytura cost the gods.
Then fast fled those untouched. If some were saved,
The heavy stiffness of the monstrous limbs
Slow to o'ertake them saved; and still they fled
And Tethra dropped the lid, when Balar rose,
Screaming with fury, as at first with joy.
So were the Dananns slain again, again;
Their glorious Nuadu, who dared to turn
In strength heroic, and to hurl his spear
Full in the face of Balar—courage vain—
Thus also died; and then the wilder fear
Hurried the Danann flight.
Dim veiled in mist, myself safe on the hill?
Back did the rallying Fohmor armies roll
The erst victorious Dananns, overtower'd
By that huge shape of ancient brutish ill,
Balar, uproused at last in his despair.
His coming was as if the mountain rose,
And towards us moved; the winter round his head,
Laden with snow-clouds hung, and from the throats
Of crags roared thunder-threats of gust and storm.
Beside him stalked that ghastliness, whose rage
So for his lost sword burned, it all but made
His full shape visible, a fresh dismay.
Fled not at first the Dananns, fear-enthralled,
Till came the dread ones nigh; then Balar sank
Groaning upon his knees, and o'er his head
Leaned Tethra, and the eyelid long unraised
Lifted, though ponderous, and the deadly beam
Leapt forth, and far in front the hapless foe
Stiffened to frosty statues on the plain,
129
So great the price Moytura cost the gods.
Then fast fled those untouched. If some were saved,
The heavy stiffness of the monstrous limbs
Slow to o'ertake them saved; and still they fled
And Tethra dropped the lid, when Balar rose,
Screaming with fury, as at first with joy.
So were the Dananns slain again, again;
Their glorious Nuadu, who dared to turn
In strength heroic, and to hurl his spear
Full in the face of Balar—courage vain—
Thus also died; and then the wilder fear
Hurried the Danann flight.
Then he arose,
The bright one, from his throne upon the hill
At last; and something of a darkness fell
And dimmed his countenance; since well he knew
Time now stood o'er him with resistless hands
To urge him face to face with that great power
Ancestral, doomed to slay him or be slain.
He rose, the wondrous weapon in his hand,
Turann's three sons had found with blood and pain,
And gliding, swift as sunlight, down the hill
With clear voice ringing stayed the headlong flight;
And they, re-animate with courage, turned
And dared to gaze on Balar. I have seen
The mighty ebb and flow of those great tides,
That swept the early earth, when still the moon,
Scarce parted from her parent orb, glared near,
A tyrant power, that violently drew,
In infant sport, the waters round the world;—
Here heaped in monstrous bulge, and there the gulfs
Sucked dry to bottoms of abysmal slime;—
Their limits then no narrow marge of shore,
The islands were but pebbles in their path
Impetuous o'er midmost continents.
Twice daily, like to raging beasts of prey,
They rose, and having from the mountain peaks
Dislodged the clouds, back plunged with deadly speed
The ruthless roll of waters. Like to that
Vast ebb and flow, the ebb and flow this day
Of war between the gods. The land was then
Larger than now. A shadow but remains
Of those great mountains, of the plains that gave
Room spacious for the conflict.
The bright one, from his throne upon the hill
At last; and something of a darkness fell
And dimmed his countenance; since well he knew
Time now stood o'er him with resistless hands
To urge him face to face with that great power
Ancestral, doomed to slay him or be slain.
He rose, the wondrous weapon in his hand,
Turann's three sons had found with blood and pain,
And gliding, swift as sunlight, down the hill
With clear voice ringing stayed the headlong flight;
And they, re-animate with courage, turned
And dared to gaze on Balar. I have seen
The mighty ebb and flow of those great tides,
That swept the early earth, when still the moon,
Scarce parted from her parent orb, glared near,
130
In infant sport, the waters round the world;—
Here heaped in monstrous bulge, and there the gulfs
Sucked dry to bottoms of abysmal slime;—
Their limits then no narrow marge of shore,
The islands were but pebbles in their path
Impetuous o'er midmost continents.
Twice daily, like to raging beasts of prey,
They rose, and having from the mountain peaks
Dislodged the clouds, back plunged with deadly speed
The ruthless roll of waters. Like to that
Vast ebb and flow, the ebb and flow this day
Of war between the gods. The land was then
Larger than now. A shadow but remains
Of those great mountains, of the plains that gave
Room spacious for the conflict.
There they stood,
Face to face at the last, Balar and Lu,
Within a spear's throw. Then on creaking knees
The giant evil bent, and leaning o'er,
The dim terrific, glaring, sought to lift
The lid: but Lu, anticipating, hurled
The spear. It, hovering at the dreadful gates,
Entered them opening, and, ere ought came forth
Of deadly, worked the death.
Face to face at the last, Balar and Lu,
Within a spear's throw. Then on creaking knees
The giant evil bent, and leaning o'er,
The dim terrific, glaring, sought to lift
The lid: but Lu, anticipating, hurled
The spear. It, hovering at the dreadful gates,
Entered them opening, and, ere ought came forth
Of deadly, worked the death.
Down on the plain
Crashed the huge form. Earth quivered; and the sound,
Rolled round from mountain unto mountain, swelled
To such reverberations, that my spirit
Shot back within its inmost lurking place,
And barred in darkness, saw no more nor heard.
Crashed the huge form. Earth quivered; and the sound,
Rolled round from mountain unto mountain, swelled
To such reverberations, that my spirit
131
And barred in darkness, saw no more nor heard.
I saw no more nor heard, till once again
The gods were gathered on the mountain top,
Clear splendours, from the darkness of the war
Emerged in joy of radiance undimmed.
To south and west, fair was the sky, washed clear
By floods of sunlight; but around the hills
That skirt the bay's wide waters, from the slopes
Of long Ben Gulban, to the cliffs that front
Their ruddy scarps to winter-setting suns,
Slieve League, so named hereafter, still were piled
The Fohmor clouds, towering in angry gloom,
Moaning and muttering to themselves in pain
With mutual threats and accusations fierce
Retorted, till upon their ears there fell
The clear-toned triumph of the Danann song,
That drew their wrath against the gods once more,
With interruptions of fierce dissonance,
Roaring of rage and prophecies of revenge.
To whom, fit answer made the calm-souled gods;
So sounded, through the heaven across these waves
Such dialogue, as seas shall hear no more;
Whereof the first was this begun by Lu.
The gods were gathered on the mountain top,
Clear splendours, from the darkness of the war
Emerged in joy of radiance undimmed.
To south and west, fair was the sky, washed clear
By floods of sunlight; but around the hills
That skirt the bay's wide waters, from the slopes
Of long Ben Gulban, to the cliffs that front
Their ruddy scarps to winter-setting suns,
Slieve League, so named hereafter, still were piled
The Fohmor clouds, towering in angry gloom,
Moaning and muttering to themselves in pain
With mutual threats and accusations fierce
Retorted, till upon their ears there fell
The clear-toned triumph of the Danann song,
That drew their wrath against the gods once more,
With interruptions of fierce dissonance,
Roaring of rage and prophecies of revenge.
To whom, fit answer made the calm-souled gods;
So sounded, through the heaven across these waves
Such dialogue, as seas shall hear no more;
Whereof the first was this begun by Lu.
Lu.
Moytura is won.
Rejoice ye powers of everlasting light,
For the strength of the Fohmor is broken.
132
No longer shall threaten
In darkness eternal to fold us.
Their armies shall ne'er re-unite:
They shall wander in troops:
As a lake that is dried into pools,
They shall shrink from the glimpse of the sun.
Triumphantly the triple war is ended;
Peace assured for the earth tormented:
The reign and fierceness of the brute are o'er:
We have conquered in man's form, whose strength ascendant,
Shall shape the world and guide it evermore.
Fohmor Voice.
Ha, ha! too soon secure!
Think ye this peace ye make shall long endure,
Think ye all earthquakes are too straightly bound
For even a little writhing,
Whose lightest motion shall in ruin confound
His brittle works, for whom is your contriving?
Is every volcan's mouth so closely sealed
That none with fiery speech again shall fright you?
Is all your world of beasts, that roam the field,
Purged clean of every creature fierce and foul?
If ye know not, we rejoice
That, spite the lay your minstrel sang,
Still the tiger keeps his claws,
The serpent still his venom fang.
The Dagda.
This know ye too, that round them both,
The coil of doom more closely draws.
133
But are ye sure beyond doubt,
Tiger and serpent, or worse than they
Refuge have not taken in his heart,
Who seems a man without,
Thence to poison, thence to prey.
Though now ye joy, ye shall not long forget,
That half this earth of yours is Fohmor yet:—
The Dagda.
Half claim ye now, who sought to rule the whole?
That half we hold shall yield us full control,
To draw your substance to our radiance bright,
Till all the world be but Fohmorian might
Clothed in De Danann light:
Fohmors.
Hurt will we yield for your scorn.
Though Balar dead on Moytura lies,
To your sorrow we soon shall return,
With a leader, who never dies.
We go to prepare new plagues;
For each that your skill has abolished,
Behold we create you a hundred;
Ye have wounded the Fohmor, have crushed;
Ye have slain the old giant powers,
That were few, that were easily numbered;
But out of their corpses shall rise,
Wind-blown, down the ways of the world,
Choking you, blinding you,
Clouds of an infinite dust;—
Legions of troubles, loathsomest seeds of corruption.
And these shall interbreed with one another,
134
Ye may slay them till ye weary and discover,
Having slaughtered thrice a thousand, that as many are the millions still behind.
Lu.
Strength have we your wiles to meet.
We care not if ye fight in great or little:
Ye walk the ways ordained for your defeat,
Our plans fulfilling.
Your blind divided ranks shall never know
Whether ye war on us or on each other;
Though each shall be the deadliest foe
To work the ruin of his deadly brother:—
Fohmors.
And ye pure, righteous ones—ha!
So sure of spirit, hating disorder,
Many a time, many a time
Shall ye be with us so commingled,
Confused and bewildered,
Ye shall not distinguish,
If good ye be, or if evil;
If darkness or light be the side that ye war for.
Can ye keep us out of the soul of man?
Provided for that in your plan?
Ah! we shall worm our way to the inmost part
Of the life-pulsing heart,
And thence, though sound be the body and fair,
Through every channel shall roll
The disease of the rotten soul.
And if strong be the soul, that we cannot enter,
We shall choose by its side in the body to dwell,
135
From passion and lust it may perish tormented.
Another Voice.
The Fohmor blood shall fire the mortal veins
With madness:
The Fohmor cunning twist his brains
To crooked paths of badness;
The Fohmor jealousy with spite shall fill
His heart to make him spill
His brother's joy cup ere he drains
The gladness,
Lu.
Boast not of these, your horrors intended.
Far better than yourselves do we foreknow them:
Alas! ye exist already
In the stuff, whereof man is woven.
But even in that most anguish-riven heart
Your cruel power shall also be divided:
Cold hardness shall resist the subtle art,
Rage conquer rage, and passion baffle passion:
And when the anarch tumult has subsided,
The chaos of winds and waves,
Then shall the clear intelligence resume
Full sway, and safely shall the bark be guided.
Fohmors.
Ah! but how oft shall ye grieve for the doom
Of wreck for the ship, of death for the pilot?
At the cost of a tempest, a score of them, cheap would we reckon our joy
One single soul to destroy.
136
If indeed ye destroy it?
But your powers exhausted shall wane
Like a cloud that is emptied of rain:
And the strength, that ye waste to your bane
The De Dananns shall grasp and employ it.
Fohmors.
But how oft shall it break in your hands,
Wounding you horribly, with inward torture:
How oft shall this being, ye create,
One with yourselves in spirit,
Delicate, wonderful fabric of nerve and brain,
Be nothing but an instrument for pain,
His lacerating discords to perform on?
Lu.
And when to pain no more man bows his head,
Will not the last of all your powers be dead?
Away, ye horrors, away!
There arises one against you at my call,
Majestic, irresistible silence.
Her eyes shall overwhelm your rage with awe.
She to our smarting ears shall yield her balm;
After the blustering storm,
The peace, the calm.
Will not the last of all your powers be dead?
Away, ye horrors, away!
There arises one against you at my call,
Majestic, irresistible silence.
Her eyes shall overwhelm your rage with awe.
She to our smarting ears shall yield her balm;
After the blustering storm,
The peace, the calm.
And the cruel tempest scream shall be reversed
When the breezes of music blow,
And utterly chase the dispersed,
Yet lingering, boastful foe:
Let the sweetness of song, O Dagda, come forth from thy mouth once more.
When the breezes of music blow,
And utterly chase the dispersed,
Yet lingering, boastful foe:
Let the sweetness of song, O Dagda, come forth from thy mouth once more.
137
Nay, nay!
Of the past I have sung,
I, a god, who am grey:
Here is a bard that is young
To chaunt futurity's lay:
My son, the beautiful Angus, shall sing of the glories of men.
Tethra,
roaring from the clouds opposite.
Sing shall ye not, till ye give back my sword,
Then boast and chaunt as idly as ye may,
When I am free to roam your lovely world,
Hushing men's joy-songs with my roar as now.
Give back my weapon, ye most insolent!
Though all the plunder of the earth be yours,
That shall your hands not keep. It moans to come;
My vacant hand aches with the hunger pain,
To clasp mine own again. Come, thou dear sword;
Hew thy way out and let these proud ones know,
By slaughter of their greatest, thou art free
Beyond all Danann cunning to enslave.
[The sword murmurs and seeks to escape.
Ogmai.
The hands, whose strength could wrench the sword from thee,
Are strong to hold it, till they will to yield.
Tethra.
Ye cannot hold it. 'Tis a primal power
Not to be robbed from me.
The Dagda.
Perchance, because
Thou serv'st us, thinking but thyself to serve.
138
Let me away!
For my master's voice
Is a rage within me:
Beware or I slay thee.
Ogmai.
Ha! dost thou know him? Is there life in thee,
Death's minister, and living gift of speech?
The Sword.
Yes, and my speech thou shalt hear,
And it will not be sweet to thine ear;
For I am the sword of Tethra, spirit of Tethra,
The power that slayeth unslain:
Wielded by hands unshapen,
I do the deeds that are hateful;
Hateful to those of the light,
Lovely to us of the night.
And it will not be sweet to thine ear;
For I am the sword of Tethra, spirit of Tethra,
The power that slayeth unslain:
Wielded by hands unshapen,
I do the deeds that are hateful;
Hateful to those of the light,
Lovely to us of the night.
I am the breath of Tethra, voice of Tethra,
The tongue of an utterance harsh:
I am the beat of the heart
Of the inmost darkness, that sends
Night to the world's far ends.
The tongue of an utterance harsh:
I am the beat of the heart
Of the inmost darkness, that sends
Night to the world's far ends.
I am the raven of Tethra, mate of Tethra, slave of Tethra:
My joy is the storm,
That strews the ground with the fruit
Half-living, bleeding and bruised
From life's tree shaken.
I desire the flame of the battle;
My joy is the storm,
That strews the ground with the fruit
Half-living, bleeding and bruised
From life's tree shaken.
I desire the flame of the battle;
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I desire gore-spouting wounds:
Flanks that are gashed, trunks that are headless;
Heads that are trunkless, in piles and in mounds:—
The warrior's death-glazed eye.
Mother of corpses I.
Flanks that are gashed, trunks that are headless;
Heads that are trunkless, in piles and in mounds:—
The warrior's death-glazed eye.
Mother of corpses I.
Do ye seek to bind me, ye gods,
And the deeds of me only beginning?
Shall I gloat over triumphs achieved,
When the greatest remain for the winning?
Though on many a full meal Tethra has gorged,
How coarse was the fare with the dainties compared
I shall heap on his table in future:—
Delicate spirits of men,
Deliciously flavoured with fear:—
Men, that shall know of me well;—
That shall tremble before me and flee me,
Glad sport, but shall never escape.
And the deeds of me only beginning?
Shall I gloat over triumphs achieved,
When the greatest remain for the winning?
Though on many a full meal Tethra has gorged,
How coarse was the fare with the dainties compared
I shall heap on his table in future:—
Delicate spirits of men,
Deliciously flavoured with fear:—
Men, that shall know of me well;—
That shall tremble before me and flee me,
Glad sport, but shall never escape.
Ye boast of this world, ye have made,
This corpse-built world?
Show me one atom thereof,
That hath not suffered and struggled,
And yielded its life to Tethra?
The rocks, they are built of the mould,
And the mould of the herb that was green,
And the beast from the herb,
And man from the beast,
And downward, in hurried confusion,
Through shapes that are loathsome,
Beast, man, worm, pell-mell,
What does it matter to me?
All, that have lived, go back to the mould,
To stiffen perchance through ages of pain,
In the rock-rigid realms of death.
This corpse-built world?
Show me one atom thereof,
That hath not suffered and struggled,
And yielded its life to Tethra?
The rocks, they are built of the mould,
And the mould of the herb that was green,
And the beast from the herb,
And man from the beast,
And downward, in hurried confusion,
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Beast, man, worm, pell-mell,
What does it matter to me?
All, that have lived, go back to the mould,
To stiffen perchance through ages of pain,
In the rock-rigid realms of death.
Ah, ah!
Loose me, ye gods!
I stifle, I faint in your hands:
Your presence benumbs me:
An effluence from you exhales,
Life deadly to death,
The poison whereof overcomes me,
And it is not my doom to perish;
Gods ye have slain that were brave and mighty,
But Tethra ye never shall slay.
Loose me, ye gods!
I stifle, I faint in your hands:
Your presence benumbs me:
An effluence from you exhales,
Life deadly to death,
The poison whereof overcomes me,
And it is not my doom to perish;
Gods ye have slain that were brave and mighty,
But Tethra ye never shall slay.
Lu.
We will not loose thee till thou be subdued,
Thy venom quenched a little;—till thy song
In milder music sheathe its jaggèd edge,
And choose a smoother speech that doth not rend.
The Sword.
Ah! Ah! I gasp. Alas, alas!
That even of me should soft things be averred!
I am the song unheard,
Shall ofttimes lure men's falt'ring souls away;
Soft as from summer's eve the tender light
Stolen by northern night,
My gentle call they gladly shall obey:
From them regretful tears shall flow not,
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Loose me, loose me!
Ogmai.
The sword has sung the unforgotten lay.
Now must the owner wield it once again.
Not ours to keep, it doth not yet return
Unchanged, since it has touched De Danann hands.
But who shall give it back? O master, say;
I took it from the foe, the Dagda holds:
Must it not drink the influence supreme
Of thee, in whom all arts and every skill
Are centred, ere dark Tethra repossess.
Lu.
Give it to me.
Tethra, I call to thee, receive thy sword.
Behold how the huge shapeless cloud uprears
Its bulk and blots the mountain, making thick
The air that had grown clearer, and outstretching
O'er half the sky a threat'ning-greedy arm.
Approach no nearer, thou detested one:
Take what I throw thee doglike. Now behold!
[He throws the sword to the cloudy hand, which seizes it, and raises it as if to strike. But the sword remains fixed, and glows in the light from the face of Lu like a rainbow of dazzling brilliancy, overarching the cloud.
Lu.
Thus amid darkness of fear and splendour of hope,
Under the rainbow triumph of the sword,
Shall men that die pass to the larger realm,
That lies beyond this life.
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Oh! wonderful!
Else had we heard reproaches from men's lips,
Who would not fear to say, in days to come,
“The sword of Tethra, wrested from his grasp,
A while ye kept it—had ye held for ever,
Men surely had lived immortal evermore
But ye gave back to him, and made this treaty—
To spare your own fair heads;—to us, the weak,
Leaving it to endure the unutterable,
While ye in joyous life neglect our moan,
And Tethra, as of old, fulfils his pleasure.”
Now shall their hopes rise ever o'er their fears,
Strong-winged to lift them from despair's black marsh,
Inspiring with a speech of sweeter strain:
And they shall love to chaunt for evermore
The names and deeds of the bright-countenanced gods,
Who broke the reign of the usurping night,
And gave the day to Eirë, and the world.
[The clouds roll up slowly from the northern mountains, glowing fiery red.
Fohmor Voices.
Alas! the burning is on us,
The scorching reaches our souls;
We are weak, we are humbled:
The eyes of the bright one upon us
Distress us, dissolve us.
The Dagda.
The darkness with faint heart despairs,
And shrinks to flight:
The vanquished tempest wears
The livery of light.
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Alas for our minishing strength!
We are broken, we flee.
The land gives under our feet.
We are driven far out to the loose flat sea,
Where never a peak shall uplift a crest,
For us to take hold of and cling to,
And lean for a little in rest.
Clutch fast, clutch fast
To the hold that we have, 'tis our last.
Lu.
Ye hear the dying wail:
Ye see them vanish from the fire-clear sky;
As they from sight and hearing fail,
Evil and darkness from the world shall die.
Therefore 'tis time that men should enter now
To take from us the earth, to hear our words.
[Three men, having the faces of the sons of Turann, are led forward by the Dagda before Lu.
The Dagda.
O sons of men, ye race that long have toiled,
Blinded of eye, and brutish in your hearts,
Moulded by us whereto ye did not know,
And slowly raised in body from the brute,
The soul meanwhile within you taking growth,—
Chastened by pain and labour,—urged along,
By nature's lash, to seek for things, whose worth
Was all concealed from you;—open at last
Your eyes and see the gods, and from our hands
Take this our gift, the world; for unto you,
Conscious henceforth, its governance we yield.
144
Oh mighty ones, and have we sight indeed?
What we behold, as yet we little know.
Your brightness and the wonder of the world
Dazzle our eyes: the meaning of your gift
Forgive us, if too great to understand.
Lu.
Long shall this be yours to seek;
Nor with many words we teach you;
Therefore heed the few we speak.
Nor with many words we teach you;
Therefore heed the few we speak.
Through the ages we have toiled,
We have worked in light and darkness,
And the strength of night have foiled.
We have worked in light and darkness,
And the strength of night have foiled.
Now behold our part is done,
And 'tis yours henceforth to labour,
And complete the task begun.
And 'tis yours henceforth to labour,
And complete the task begun.
Evil, yet not wholly dead,
Lives without and lives within you,
Though the doom be on its head.
Lives without and lives within you,
Though the doom be on its head.
Night still rules the half of time,
Years must pass the yoke of winter,
Storm still fret the fairest clime.
Years must pass the yoke of winter,
Storm still fret the fairest clime.
In the human heart, still rude,
Lurks the sullen force deceitful,
Half rebellious, half subdued.
Lurks the sullen force deceitful,
Half rebellious, half subdued.
Ye must struggle; thus alone,
Ever fighting and prevailing,
Ye shall make our might your own.
Ever fighting and prevailing,
Ye shall make our might your own.
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Surest triumph would ye win,
Seek to crush the foe without you
Most by taming him within.
Seek to crush the foe without you
Most by taming him within.
We are summoned now afar;
There are mightier tasks before us,
In the next unordered star.
There are mightier tasks before us,
In the next unordered star.
But we leave you not unaided
To the half-tamed earth and sea:
For we leave you helpers three;—
Living gifts, that will not fail nor deceive you,
In the earth nor in the heavens above,
And the names of these three mighty ones, we leave you,
Are Law, and Light, and Love.
To the half-tamed earth and sea:
For we leave you helpers three;—
Living gifts, that will not fail nor deceive you,
In the earth nor in the heavens above,
And the names of these three mighty ones, we leave you,
Are Law, and Light, and Love.
Law, that shall hold the earthquake at your feet,
In chains, that earth be firm for ye to build,
Secure, the habitations of your peace.
Light, that shall wax intenser, piercing clear
To the inmost heart of all things, turning them
To its own nature, till the iron world
Be, to your eyes, a crystal to the core.
Love, that shall make things lovely, clothing them
With all-constraining beauty;—hate shall die,
Finding no sustenance;—and with bonds unseen
Enchained, shall all things, on the earth that breathe,
Be but one creature, marvellous, many-souled.
All minds shall know the thoughts of every mind,
All hearts with joy of every heart shall throb:
Yea, also, shall the seeming lifeless world
Quicken and ye shall love it. Ye shall share
The raptures of its mountains and its waves;
And it will answer you with mighty love,
Transcendent, overmastering, as its power,
That pouring through your beings, upon its stream
Of life immeasurable, shall float your souls,
Filled with its ocean pulses;—pouring through them,
Round them, and lending its unwearied strength,—
Blind force transmuted by the living power
To glowing spirit essence, that feels and knows;—
For matter is the fuel, spirit the flame:—
Till all your thoughts be fervid as noon's fire,
And purer than the passion of the dawn.
So shall the mighty One from whom ye came,
Bring ye to look upon him, face to face.
In chains, that earth be firm for ye to build,
Secure, the habitations of your peace.
Light, that shall wax intenser, piercing clear
To the inmost heart of all things, turning them
To its own nature, till the iron world
Be, to your eyes, a crystal to the core.
Love, that shall make things lovely, clothing them
With all-constraining beauty;—hate shall die,
Finding no sustenance;—and with bonds unseen
Enchained, shall all things, on the earth that breathe,
Be but one creature, marvellous, many-souled.
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All hearts with joy of every heart shall throb:
Yea, also, shall the seeming lifeless world
Quicken and ye shall love it. Ye shall share
The raptures of its mountains and its waves;
And it will answer you with mighty love,
Transcendent, overmastering, as its power,
That pouring through your beings, upon its stream
Of life immeasurable, shall float your souls,
Filled with its ocean pulses;—pouring through them,
Round them, and lending its unwearied strength,—
Blind force transmuted by the living power
To glowing spirit essence, that feels and knows;—
For matter is the fuel, spirit the flame:—
Till all your thoughts be fervid as noon's fire,
And purer than the passion of the dawn.
So shall the mighty One from whom ye came,
Bring ye to look upon him, face to face.
Fintan.
While thus he spoke the bright De Danann hosts
Rose in array resplendent from the plain,
Up the hill side, and passed the throne of Lu,
Each making reverence;—then o'er the hill
Out on the western air they streamed afar;
And high in heaven dividing equal ranks,
One phalanx northward wheeled, one south, and then,
Like clouds of fire intense with living light,
Descending, ranged on either side the sun.
When all had well nigh passed Lu spake again.
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Yet these things are far hence. Now it is time,
Since near is our departure, ye should see
Their faces, in whose charge ye must abide.
Queens of this land henceforward, come ye night,
Fohla, Banba, and Eirë.
[The three approach, but Eire presses on before the others, and arrives first; Fohla and Banba remaining a little way off, looking grave and displeased.
Lu.
Too eager Eirë, wherefore hast thou run
Before thy sisters? O disastrous haste!
How wilt appease them, how propitiate?
Thou hast broken the order and observance due.
Light cannot come, ere law prepare the ground;
Love should not enter, ere light show the way.
Woe, woe! This people that thou tak'st to thee,
Shall break in blossom in the winter air,
And know the sorrow of the blighted bud.
Shall clasp thy hand and strive to walk by it,
And stumbling o'er rough places in the dark,
In many a quagmire sink, much soiled, much bruised.
I would we took a different farewell:
Would that the tears, I now see dew thy cheek,
Were last of all thy sorrows, beauteous one.
Yet thou shalt love thy sons, they shall love thee.
Children of Mïled, do ye deem her fair?
Are ye content to take her for your queen,
Goddess and mother, even as she weeps?
Sons of M.
We are content. Fairest of all is she.
Eirë.
Brave sons, I wept to think I brought ye woe:
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As, like the diving sea-bird through its deeps,
Can plunge in sorrow's floods and rise again,
With livelier wings to dance against the blue
Than those whose plumes ne'er touched the damping wave.
[While they are speaking, Lu and the other De Dananns vanish.
Sons of Mïled.
Where are those bright, majestic presences,
That here this moment were?
Eirë.
Ah! they are gone.
Yet left us not unwarned;—and see, the sun,
Whose broad disc with unutterable splendour
Touches the ocean's heave, the aspect wears
Of the countenance of Lu.
Sons of M.
'Tis even so.
Is that in promise he will yet return?
Eirë.
Perchance. Yet listen, for my sister speaks.
Banba
(singing).
The younger gods abide with men;
The older names decay;
They never shall return again,
Who once have passed away.
Eirë.
Sad words she sings. And now the night falls chill,
And I must guide you downward to the plain,
The fruitful, wooded land henceforth your home,
Wherein your destiny must be fulfilled.
Would ye had chosen first my sisters twain;
149
Not so, had ne'er forsaken them.
Long will they stand averse, unreconciled.
And now all pleading with them were but vain.
Yet neither will they fail us in the end.
[They descend the hill, Fohla and Banba gazing after them till they are out of sight. Then Banba makes as though she would follow, but is restrained by a gesture from Fohla.
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