 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
20
FIONN AND THE FAIRIES.
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Fionn MacCumhail (the Finn MacCool, of the common tongue) takes a place in Irish legends, somewhat like that of Arthur, in the circle of the Knights of the Round Table, or Roland, among the twelve peers of Charlemagne. The Fingal of MacPherson's romance is a mere pinchbeck counterfeit of the original. Fionn is the leader of the Fianna, but in keenness and might, Oscur and others of his followers surpass him. He is a chevalier sans peur, but no sans reproche. The bardic traditions paint him as possessed of the weaknesses of a man, as well as the courage of a hero. In the story which follows, we have a leading idea which, in some shape, is common to the folk-lore of all countries. Arthur's Sleeping Heroes, the Seven Sleepers and Rip Van Winkle are all of this class. We find the abstraction of mortals by fairies a leading feature in Cymric folk-lore; but there the result is usually tragic. On the return of the unfortunate guest, he falls to ashes or dwindles and dies.
Fionn, who in those days was chief of the Fianna,
Started to seek in the mountains his prey;
With him his wolf-hounds, Brann, Brod and Lomluath,
Making o'er mead and through woodland their way,
Down to the glen of the thunderstruck oak-tree,
Cleft in the rocks that were grassless and grey.
Started to seek in the mountains his prey;
With him his wolf-hounds, Brann, Brod and Lomluath,
Making o'er mead and through woodland their way,
Down to the glen of the thunderstruck oak-tree,
Cleft in the rocks that were grassless and grey.
Presently Brann stopped and scented, then bounded
Eagerly forward, the rest after him—
Ah! they were fleet and of noble endurance,
Massive of jaw and of muscular limb;
Woe to the elk or the wolf they encountered—
Triumph for them, but destruction to him!
Eagerly forward, the rest after him—
Ah! they were fleet and of noble endurance,
Massive of jaw and of muscular limb;
Woe to the elk or the wolf they encountered—
Triumph for them, but destruction to him!
Fionn followed fast, in the chase ever earnest,
Came where the hounds stood in front of their prey;
Not theirs to harm aught that seemed to be human;
This a dwarf harper, old, withered and grey,
On a stone seated, unheeding their presence,
Twanging his harp-strings, and chanting his lay.
Came where the hounds stood in front of their prey;
Not theirs to harm aught that seemed to be human;
This a dwarf harper, old, withered and grey,
On a stone seated, unheeding their presence,
Twanging his harp-strings, and chanting his lay.
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Wizen-faced, small and deformed, but he sat there
Calm, as though nobles and ladies among;
Never before did a harp make such music,
Never such song by a mortal was sung;
Fionn heard in wonder; the hounds in a circle
Sat on their haunches, outlolling each tongue.
Calm, as though nobles and ladies among;
Never before did a harp make such music,
Never such song by a mortal was sung;
Fionn heard in wonder; the hounds in a circle
Sat on their haunches, outlolling each tongue.
Then, when at last died the sound of the harp-strings,
Fionn asked the dwarf: “Why alone in the glen?
Brutes only live in the cliffs and the wild wood,
Harpers and bards in the dwellings of men.
Follow me straight to the camp of the Fianna;
Sing there the song of the heroes again.”
Fionn asked the dwarf: “Why alone in the glen?
Brutes only live in the cliffs and the wild wood,
Harpers and bards in the dwellings of men.
Follow me straight to the camp of the Fianna;
Sing there the song of the heroes again.”
“Fionn of the Fianna!” the harper responded,
“Waste not a pity unneeded on me;
Wander I may at my will and my pleasure—
Harp and its owner are equally free,
I am an elf—Cnu Deroil, so they call me,
Servant to Una, the Queen of the Sighe.
“Waste not a pity unneeded on me;
Wander I may at my will and my pleasure—
Harp and its owner are equally free,
I am an elf—Cnu Deroil, so they call me,
Servant to Una, the Queen of the Sighe.
“But unto you for to-day is my mission,
Chief of the heroes and pride of the land;
On you, through me, does my mistress lay geasa,
Not for a service by spear or by brand,
But as her guest, by the vow you have taken,
Never to fail at a woman's command.”
Chief of the heroes and pride of the land;
On you, through me, does my mistress lay geasa,
Not for a service by spear or by brand,
But as her guest, by the vow you have taken,
Never to fail at a woman's command.”
Opened a way as he spake in the hill-side—
There was a portal where none was before;
Wide was the entrance; Fionn followed the harper—
True to their vows were the heroes of yore;
Then when they passed it, closed clanging behind them,
Ponderous wings of the great brazen door.
There was a portal where none was before;
Wide was the entrance; Fionn followed the harper—
True to their vows were the heroes of yore;
Then when they passed it, closed clanging behind them,
Ponderous wings of the great brazen door.
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Ah! what a vision of ravishing beauty
Burst on Fionn's sight! How surpassingly fair!
Blue sky above him, and lush grass around him;
Silvery fountains to freshen the air;
Pathways that led through the roses and lilies;
Birds ever singing with melody rare.
Burst on Fionn's sight! How surpassingly fair!
Blue sky above him, and lush grass around him;
Silvery fountains to freshen the air;
Pathways that led through the roses and lilies;
Birds ever singing with melody rare.
There on the lawn rose a palace of marble,
Azure in shadow and snowy in light;
Turrets and pinnacles, casements and doorways
Studded with rubies and diamonds bright;
Seneschal grave at the door to receive him,
Soldiers in saffron, and maidens in white.
Azure in shadow and snowy in light;
Turrets and pinnacles, casements and doorways
Studded with rubies and diamonds bright;
Seneschal grave at the door to receive him,
Soldiers in saffron, and maidens in white.
Fionn, with his wolf-hounds at hand, entered boldly,
Towering his figure, athletic and tall,
Ushered with welcome where, robed in rich colors,
Courtiers and ladies were grouped in the hall;
There on her throne sat the golden-haired Una,
Gracious, and fairer by far than them all.
Towering his figure, athletic and tall,
Ushered with welcome where, robed in rich colors,
Courtiers and ladies were grouped in the hall;
There on her throne sat the golden-haired Una,
Gracious, and fairer by far than them all.
“Hero of heroes!” the Sighe-queen addressed him,
“Honor and service are yours where I sway;
All things around you are yours to partake of,
All of my subjects your orders obey;
Only one thing to you here is forbidden;
Use all the rest with what freedom you may.
“Honor and service are yours where I sway;
All things around you are yours to partake of,
All of my subjects your orders obey;
Only one thing to you here is forbidden;
Use all the rest with what freedom you may.
“Here in the hall is a spring overflowing,
Limpid as ether, no crystal so clear;
Draught it has yet never furnished to mortal,
Meant but for those who are born to it here;
Touch it not, taste it not, else woe betide you,
Even one drop of it costing you dear.”
Limpid as ether, no crystal so clear;
Draught it has yet never furnished to mortal,
Meant but for those who are born to it here;
Touch it not, taste it not, else woe betide you,
Even one drop of it costing you dear.”
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Nothing for Fionn from that moment but pleasure,
Feasted and served with a homage profound;
Every delight that the fairies could tender,
Pleasing to sight or to taste or to sound;
Hours they went by on the swiftest of pinions,
Life was an evermore merry-go-round.
Feasted and served with a homage profound;
Every delight that the fairies could tender,
Pleasing to sight or to taste or to sound;
Hours they went by on the swiftest of pinions,
Life was an evermore merry-go-round.
So, for six days a continual revel,
Even the hounds of the feasting partook;
Then on the seventh satiety followed,
Fionn on his face wore a wearisome look;
Brann, Brod and Lomluath, all growing sullen,
Crept to one side in a sheltering nook.
Even the hounds of the feasting partook;
Then on the seventh satiety followed,
Fionn on his face wore a wearisome look;
Brann, Brod and Lomluath, all growing sullen,
Crept to one side in a sheltering nook.
What were the dainties around in profusion?
What were the wines of the purest and best?
What were the homage and service they gave him?
What was fulfilment of every request?
What were the smiles of the golden-haired Una?
Draught from that fountain was worth all the rest.
What were the wines of the purest and best?
What were the homage and service they gave him?
What was fulfilment of every request?
What were the smiles of the golden-haired Una?
Draught from that fountain was worth all the rest.
Fionn, with a thirst that was fierce and resistless,
Stooped to the water and drank to his fill;
Shrieks all around him; rose bristling the wolf-hounds,
Went through their master a tremulous thrill;
Broke with the draught all the magical fetters
Closing his vision and binding his will.
Stooped to the water and drank to his fill;
Shrieks all around him; rose bristling the wolf-hounds,
Went through their master a tremulous thrill;
Broke with the draught all the magical fetters
Closing his vision and binding his will.
Elves clad so finely wore dead leaves for garments,
Everything round him was squalid and base,
Lawn, groves and hall were one damp, dripping cavern,
Noisome and gloomy the look of the place;
Una was changed to a hag, old and withered,
Crooked in figure, and wrinkled in face.
Everything round him was squalid and base,
Lawn, groves and hall were one damp, dripping cavern,
Noisome and gloomy the look of the place;
Una was changed to a hag, old and withered,
Crooked in figure, and wrinkled in face.
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Fled he in horror; a few rotting faggots
Crossing the door made no barrier to him;
Out in the sunlight, he stood there and shivered,
Muscles were weakened and vision was dim—
What made the wolf-hounds so old and decrepit,
Gaunt, trembling, toothless and feeble of limb?
Crossing the door made no barrier to him;
Out in the sunlight, he stood there and shivered,
Muscles were weakened and vision was dim—
What made the wolf-hounds so old and decrepit,
Gaunt, trembling, toothless and feeble of limb?
Marvelous change on himself! All unshaven,
Down reached his beard to the waist-buckle near,
Over his person his dress hung in tatters,
Tangled the locks that fell over each ear,
Rusted his glaive till it clung to the scabbard,
Rotten and worthless the haft of his spear.
Down reached his beard to the waist-buckle near,
Over his person his dress hung in tatters,
Tangled the locks that fell over each ear,
Rusted his glaive till it clung to the scabbard,
Rotten and worthless the haft of his spear.
Vanished the door that had been in the hill-side,
Leaving the rock on it grassless and bare;
Pathway that led to it covered with brambles,
Tracks to it leading no longer were there,
What had been meadow was grown up with coppice,
Grass where the birches and hazel-trees were.
Leaving the rock on it grassless and bare;
Pathway that led to it covered with brambles,
Tracks to it leading no longer were there,
What had been meadow was grown up with coppice,
Grass where the birches and hazel-trees were.
Making their way through the much-tangled thicket,
Out came they all on a wide, open road;
There they beheld a stout, vigorous peasant,
Bearing of branches a staggering load—
Gleaned from the forest—and merrily whistled,
Cheerily seeking his humble abode.
Out came they all on a wide, open road;
There they beheld a stout, vigorous peasant,
Bearing of branches a staggering load—
Gleaned from the forest—and merrily whistled,
Cheerily seeking his humble abode.
“When was this road made?” asked Fionn, of the other;
“Seven days since, and no pathway was here.”
“You are a stranger,” the cotter made answer,
“Else you would know all about it, that's clear.
Cormac, the king, had it cut when Fionn left him;
Seven years that, on this day, to a year.
“Seven days since, and no pathway was here.”
“You are a stranger,” the cotter made answer,
“Else you would know all about it, that's clear.
Cormac, the king, had it cut when Fionn left him;
Seven years that, on this day, to a year.
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“Strange, too, it was; Fionn was traced to yon hill-side,
He and his hounds; then, no tokens were found;
Some say he went off to join ‘the good people,’
Others, he wandered to far foreign ground.
No one knows rightly. He was a bold hero;
Much they lament him when this day comes round.”
He and his hounds; then, no tokens were found;
Some say he went off to join ‘the good people,’
Others, he wandered to far foreign ground.
No one knows rightly. He was a bold hero;
Much they lament him when this day comes round.”
“And who leads the Fianna now?” “Diarmuid, the dauntless;
Courts he Fionn's widow, I hear gossips say;
Makes but poor speed, I am told, in his wooing;
Still the fair Maghneiss replies to him ‘nay,’
Tells him that Fionn will return from his travel;
But she'll come round. Women do. 'Tis their way.”
Courts he Fionn's widow, I hear gossips say;
Makes but poor speed, I am told, in his wooing;
Still the fair Maghneiss replies to him ‘nay,’
Tells him that Fionn will return from his travel;
But she'll come round. Women do. 'Tis their way.”
Fionn heard no more, but strode steadily forward,
Doubt and amazement fast kindling to wrath—
“He who depends upon love, or on friendship,
Little of hope for his happiness hath.”
Then, whistling sharp to the three feeble wolf-hounds,
Sadly pursued to his dwelling the path.
Doubt and amazement fast kindling to wrath—
“He who depends upon love, or on friendship,
Little of hope for his happiness hath.”
Then, whistling sharp to the three feeble wolf-hounds,
Sadly pursued to his dwelling the path.
Soon he was there; when he came to the portal,
Looking forlorn, 'twas a beggar, they thought;
All were new servants, proud, arrogant, heartless—
Vainly the needy their kindliness sought.
Maghneiss above, who had come to a casement,
Threw him an alms-gift, which deftly he caught.
Looking forlorn, 'twas a beggar, they thought;
All were new servants, proud, arrogant, heartless—
Vainly the needy their kindliness sought.
Maghneiss above, who had come to a casement,
Threw him an alms-gift, which deftly he caught.
“Give the poor wanderer food, drink and shelter,”
Maghneiss exclaimed. “On this day of the year
No one shall go without dole and a welcome
Due to his memory ever held dear.
He would have done it, for he was kind-hearted.”
“Maghneiss, my darling,” cried Fionn, “I am here!”
Maghneiss exclaimed. “On this day of the year
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Due to his memory ever held dear.
He would have done it, for he was kind-hearted.”
“Maghneiss, my darling,” cried Fionn, “I am here!”
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |