The banshee and other poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Five were the chiefs who challenged
By their deeds the Over-Kingship,
Bov Derg, the Daghda's son, Ilbrac of Assaroe,
And Lir of the White Field in the plain of Emain Macha;
And after them stood up Midhir the proud, who reigned
Upon the hills of Bri,
Of Bri the loved of Liath, Bri of the broken heart;
And last was Angus Og; all these had many voices,
But for Bov Derg were most.

4.

Then all took sun and moon
For their sureties, to obey him,
Bov Derg, the holy King; save Lir and all his clan,
And Lir withdrew in ire.

5.

And marching from the tryst, his war-men at his back,
He seemed a thundercloud of wrath, frighting the peaceful day;
So passed to his own place, and sat him down in grief,
Brooding upon his wrong.

6.

But those about Bov Derg were wroth at Lir, and said:
“Give us the word, Bov Derg, and Lir shall be an heap,
Of bleaching bones, cast out and suddenly forgot.”
“Nay,” said Bov Derg: “Not so, Lir is a mighty name,
Greater in war than I, dear as my head to me.
Leave Lir, the dragon of our coasts, the lordship of himself,
To daunt Fomorian ships.”

The Fomorians were sea-rovers, who for centuries troubled successive rulers of Ireland by their raids upon the coasts.

7.

So Lir sat down, unharried, on his hill of the White Field
In anger many days. Then there went forth a cry
Of wail through all the north, and down the Shannon stream,
A wail in the west, a wail in the south: “The wife of Lir is dead,
And Lir like winter's frost that melts away in tears!”

8.

And Bov Derg heard that cry, and said: “This woe of Lir
Shall heal our breach;” and sent rich gifts to him, and said:
“Behold I have three maidens, fostered in my house,
Oichell of Arann bore them, fair as young hawthorn buds,
Sweeter than summer's breath: choose out the fairest now

Oova, or Oifa next, or, youngest of them all,
Eva. Choose thou; and peace be knit betwixt us twain.”

9.

Good seemed that word to Lir, and he hastened from his hill,
His chariots were three score, their wheels outshone the sun,
His fairy horsemen swift as hawks, splendid as dragonflies
In belted mail. He rode, and came beside Lough Derg,
There met Bov Derg, and there abode that day in peace.

10.

That night glad was Bov Derg, and made, for love of Lir,
A mighty feast, and there, at the High Queen's right hand,

Lir saw the maidens three, Oova, and Oifa next,
And, youngest of them all, Eva. “Choose,” said Bov Derg:
Lir looked, and sang this lay:

CHOOSING-SONG OF LIR.

1

Three things there be most beautiful
In the softness of their splendour:
The sun in the west, the moon on the water,
And the dawn-star's tremulous light.

2

Three are the maids before me,
All wonderful in beauty,
Oova, Oifa, Eva,
No man could choose between them.

3

And now I dare not wrong thee,
Oova, to pass thee over,
First-born shall be first-wed:
Be thou my heart's consoling!

11.

Thereat Bov Derg praised Lir, that righteous was his choice.
And mighty was the ale-feast at the wedding of that bride;
For they were wed that night, and the morn beheld the splendour
Of the bringing home of Oova, the wife of war-like Lir.

12.

And first a girl and boy she bore at one fair birth,
The sweet-voiced Fianoula, and Oodh with golden hair;
And next two sons she bore, twins of one fatal birth,
Fiachra and Conn; and died that hour she heard them cry.

13.

Thus Oova, bearing men, in honoured motherhood
Went piteously to death; and by the Shannon's stream

A wail went north and south: “The wife of Lir is dead!
And motherless his children, cold in the bed of Lir!”

14.

And Bov Derg heard that wail, and said: “Ochone for Lir!
Ochone for his young babes, cold is their bed this day!
Thee must he wed, Oifa, mother thy sister's babes.”
And cold went Oifa then to the cold house of Lir.

Sorrowful is my song,
The song of the sorrow of Lir,
The harp is tuned for my singing.