Congal :: :: University of Virginia Library

Congal

A Poem, in Five Books. By Samuel Ferguson

Ferguson, Samuel (1810-1886)

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TO THREE MUCH-PRIZED FRIENDS, MARGARET STOKES, WHITLEY STOKES, FREDERICK WILLIAM BURTON, I DEDICATE THIS POEM.

CONGAL

THE ARGUMENT.

Ambition, Anger, Terror, Strife and Death,
Each, here, its Book in Congal's story hath.

Book I.

King Congal, feast-ward bent, is turned aside.
Bard Ardan's arts of spleenful Song are tried.

Book II.

The royal Feast. The unintended Slight.
Halt Kellach's Counsel; and the Aids for fight.

Book III.

The Rising-out of Erin's guardian Ghosts.
Conan's Resolve; and re-encouraged Hosts.

Book IV.

King Domnal's Muster, ere the fight proceeds.
Mad Sweeny's flight; and Northern Conal's deeds.

Book V.

The Shrew; the Fool; the final Overthrow.
What else remains, the verse, itself, will show.

BOOK I.

THE Hosting here of Congal Claen. 'Twas loud-lark-carolling May
When Congal, as the lark elate, and radiant as the day,
Rode forth from steep Rath-Keltar gate: nor marvel that the King
Should share the solace of the skies, and gladness of the spring,
For from her high sun-harbouring bower the fortress gate above
The loveliest lady of the North looked down on him with love.

“Adieu, sweet heart; a short adieu; in seven days hence,” he cried,
“Expect me at your portals back to claim my promised bride.
“My heart at last has full content: my love's acceptance heals
“All wounds of Fortune: what although Malodhar Macha steals,
“By Domnal's false arbitrament, my tributes and my land,
“Nor he nor sovereign Domnal's self can steal Lafinda's hand.
“Then forward, youths, for Dunangay; this royal banquet sped
“That binds our truce, remains no more but straightway back, and wed.”

On went the royal cavalcade, a goodly sight to see,
As westward, o'er the Land of Light, they swept the flowery lea;

Each shining hoof of every steed upcasting high behind
The gay green turf in thymy tufts that scented all the wind,
While, crossing at the coursers' heads with intersecting bounds,
As swift as skimming swallows played the joyous barking hounds.

First of the fleet resplendent band, the hero Congal rode;
Dark shone the mighty-chested steed his shapely thigh bestrode;
Dark, too, at times, his own brow showed that all his lover's air
But mantled with a passing light the gloom of inward care.
Beside him, on a bay-bright steed, in yellow garb arrayed,
Rode Sweeny, King of Dalaray, the brother of the maid;
Attendant on his other hand, with eye that never ceased
Obsequious watch, came Garrad Gann, the envoy of the feast;
A troop of gallant youths behind: 'twas glorious to behold
The coursers' motions and the flow of graceful forms and gold.

So rode they, till, the flowery plain and bushy upland pass'd,
They came at noon where, o'er the woods, Ben-Borcha's barriers vast
Rose in mid-sky: here, where the road divided, at the bourne
That meared the country of the Lord of gloomy-mountain'd Mourne,
Kellach the Halt, the heroes met, in middle of the way,
The Master of the Schools of Mourne, the Arch-Bard Ardan; they
Alighting made him reverence meet; and Ardan from his car
Descending, kissed the King and said,

“Dear youths, ye welcome are
“To Kellach's country. Congal Claen, thine uncle's herald, I

“In virtue of the Red-Branch bond, beseech thy courtesy
“This day to rest and feast with him.”

“From knight to knight,” replied
King Congal, “'tis a just request, and ill to be denied.”

“Worse to be granted,” Garrad said: “to Domnal reconciled,
“Behoves thee that thou rather shun one not the Church's child;
“And, for his bond of brotherhood, a like request was made
“Once, with small good to guest or host, when fraudful Barach stayed
“With fatal feasts the son of Roy, and from his plighted charge
“Detained him in Dunseverick hall, while Conor, left at large
“To deal as lust or hate might prompt with those who on the faith
“Of weak MacRoy's safe-conduct came, did Usnach's sons to death.”

“Conor Mac Nessa,” said the Bard, “when first he sent to spy
“Clan Usnach, where they sat at chess in Creeve-Roe's sanctuary,
“Chose for his messenger a nurse, who, straight returning, told
“The pious falsehood that the Queen was faded grown, and old:
“When, hot with wine, a second time the lustful tyrant sent
“To see if Deirdre's beauty still lived on her, his intent
“Being to break his guarantees, he for that errand base
“Chose, as the fittest man of all his minions there in place,
“A Northman herald; and that spy brought back the wicked word
“Of Deirdre's beauty unimpaired, which hearing at his board,
“The King, despite his bard's rebuke, from doomed Emania's hall
“Went forth and did the sacrilege that wrought his kingdom's fall.

“Wherefore it seems to me this tale of Usnach's children now
“Sounds not well-timed to such as we, from such a one as thou,
“Oh Northman herald: but, oh King, I lay thee as before
“In knighthood's bonds, thou pass not by thy father's brother's door.”

Said Congal: “If the son of Roy to this constraining tie
“Yielded, though charged with mighty cares, great blame it were if I,
“Who, unlike Fergus, journey forth with neither charge nor care,
“Should shun my knightly kinsman's cheer with loyal mind to share.”

And, climbing by the Poet's side, they took the left-hand road,
And through the gap of mountain sought the aged Chief's abode.

Far on the steep gap's further side, a rugged tract they found,
With barren breasts of murky hills and crags encompassed round:
A hollow sound of blustering winds was from the margin sent,
A river down the middle space with mighty tumult went;
And still, as further on they fared, the torrent swifter flowed,
And mightier and murkier still the circling mountains showed;
A dreadful desert as it seemed: till Congal was aware
Of divers goodly-visaged men and youths resorting there.
Some by the flood-side lonely walked; and other some were seen
Who rapt apart in silent thought paced each his several green;
And stretched in dell and dark ravine, were some that lay supine,
And some in posture prone that lay, and conn'd the written line.
Then to the King's enquiring gaze, where, mounted by his side,
He sat and eyed the silent throng, the grey Arch-Bard replied:

“See in despite the Clerics' hate, where Kellach's care awards
“Rough though it be, a sanctuary to Erin's banished Bards.
“A life-time now is well-nigh spent since first our wandering feet,
“Compelled by that unjust decree enacted at Drumkeat,
“Left home and presidential seat by plenteous board and fire
“To sate the rage of impious Aed, ungrateful Domnal's sire.
“Twelve hundred men, with one consent, from Erin's utmost ends,
“We sought the hills where ruled the Bard's hereditary friends,
“Thy sheltering, song-preserving hills, Ultonia! cess nor dues
“Craved we; but sat and touched our harps beside the Strand-End Yews.
“Of Ulster's Hound, the matchless Hound, pursuer swift and strong
“Of all the brutish herds of vice and monster-broods of wrong,
“Great, good Cuchullin, was our song; and how, when once before
“All Erin's churls from niggard board and culture-barring door,
“Impatient of life's needful charge of knowledge, had expelled
“Their Poet-teachers, and the Bards sat by the sea, and held
“Dire counsel; either to turn back, and with avenging swords
“Regain their rights, or o'er the seas enrich rude Alba's lords
“With our lost lore, Cuchullin came, and ‘Let it not be told,’
“Said he, ‘that men of Erin e'er loved knowledge less than gold.’
“And bore them to Dun-Dealga back; seven hundred Ollaves good
“And thrice seven hundred in their train; where neither fire nor food

“Failed them thenceforth for seven full years, until by just degrees
“The needs of knowledge drew them back to all their rectories.
“Whereby renown of song enures to Ulster, and the fame
“Of virtue as of valour still cleaves to Cuchullin's name.
“Hearing which lay, Malcova, son of Deman, standing by,
“Was moved with pity and desire to leave his memory
“Linked with Cuchullin's. Three full years Malcova spread our board
“There, by the Yewry. After him, from bounteous lord to lord
“Roamed we the sheltering Land of Song; and so, from year to year
“Lived, spite of angry Domnal's hate, till generous Kellach here
“Assigned us,—small the remnant now of that illustrious band
“Who at Malcova's tables sat,—this tract of rugged land;
“And ever in his own good fort, with hospitable care,
“For bard and pupil at our will provides us daily fare.
“Yes, though the Clerics' grasp on all our fruitful lands be set,
“The poet-peopled desert teems with inspiration yet:
“And here, despite their bells and books, still 'mid our wilds we teach
“The better Bardic utterance and sacred Poet-speech,
“Yet to be heard, some happier day, when 'mid the shock of spears
“The shout of Freedom shall be heard; and blest be he who hears.”

Said Congal, “Deem not that the Bards by any voice of ours
“Are of their lawful rights debarred; or that the lawless powers

“The Clerks usurp were gained of me; I love them not; but now
“To royal Domnal reconciled, 'tis fitting that I bow
“With willing reverence to the laws.”

Said Ardan, “Laws in Mourne
“Against the law of God decreed, we reverence not, but scorn.”

“Fear not,” said Congal; “while I reign o'er Ulster, none shall dare
“Disturb the seats assigned you here by generous Kellach's care.”

“We fear not for our seats, oh King: these rocks are not the soil
“That Clerics choose, when feeble chiefs divide the Church her spoil.
“Yet even 'mid these wind-whirling vales, these deserts dumb and dead,
“Their Saints invade us. Raise thine eyes to yonder mountain head
“That 'twixt us and the eastern sky uplifts its glittering cone:
“There, where thou seest the cairn at top, dwelt in his cave of stone
“Their hermit Domangart, ten years: the tempests from the sea
“On one side dashed him, and on one the wet west blanched him: he
“Daily, or from his driving cloud or mountain altar bare,
“Loosed'gainst the nation's ancient gods his searching shafts of prayer;
“And, daily, from the rocky crest of Bingian here, hard by,
“Alone like him, and raised like him, midway 'twixt earth and sky,
“The red Bard Irial, in reply, launched from his rival chair
“Athwart the empty fields of space, the deadlier poet's Aeir;
“Till, when the struggle had endured the tenth year, in his pride
“Of prayer and fasting, Domangart sank 'neath the Aeir and died.

“For God imparts the Bardic gift in triplicate degree,
“The power to charm, the power to blight, the power to prophesy;
“But to the second grade but few, and to the last but one
“May in a generation rise; and Aidan's mighty son
“Had to the second degree attained; and with his song could rhyme
“Crops to decay, and men to death; as in the olden time
“Bard Neyid blotched his uncle Caier, and from both throne and bed
“Expelled him. ‘Love me, Lord of Song,’ incestuous Athna said.
“But Neyid would not. ‘Love me, Lord of Connaught,’ said the dame;
“Then Neyid from his burning heart, fired with the double flame
“Of lust and of ambition, sped the baleful words of scorn
“That made the king a blemished man: he, wretch, at early morn,
“When to the healing fount he went, his fevered brow to lave,
“Beheld on either evilled cheek, reflected in the wave,
“The hideous boil incurable; from sight of human eyes
“Abashed he fled, and one year's space in mendicant disguise
“Lurked in Dun-Kermna, with the son of Edersgol; meantime
“Neyid enjoyed his Queen and crown; but that enormous crime
“Passed not unpunished: when the year in guilty joy was spent,
“Mounted in Caier's own royal car the Queen and Poet went
“To claim their captive from the son of Edersgol; and, bound
“To Neyid's belt, to aid their quest, brought Caier's favorite hound.
“Then, through his rags and scars, the King a moment stood revealed;
“‘He sits within my seat,’ he cried; and snatched a warrior's shield;

“But in the buckler's polished disk beholding once again
“His ruined visage, and the dire, disqualifying stain,
“Shame-struck, leaped headlong o'er the rocks that from the fortress-mound
“Stoop to the sea; and, after him, dragged by the eager hound,
“Went Neyid o'er the slippery brink; at whose despairing cry,
“As down the airy void he whirled, the chariot-steeds hard by
“Fled; and, cast forward where the reins entangling trailed the road,
“Her broken limbs for many a mile the rocks of Bearra strowed.
“Such power of old a Bard hath owned; and such tremendous power
“For evil or for good on thee depending, at this hour,
“Here, round us, these, the remnant left of those whom Aed's decree,
“Made at Drumkeat, expelled their chairs, reserve in trust for thee,
“Their only rightful Lord and King.”

Said Congal: “Say not so;
“'Tis Domnal now to whom we all a one allegiance owe.”

By this they reached the fort, and found the Chieftain Kellach there:
Before the outer gate he sat, and took the fresher air:
A very aged senior he; his hearing well-nigh gone,
Nor walked he longer on his feet, but sat a tolg upon:
A brazen-footed bench it was, whereon his serving train
Could bear him gently in and out.

“My love to Congal Claen,”
He said. “Disabled of my limbs thou find'st me, nephew, still;
“But not yet crippled aught in heart or in the loyal will
“I bear my brother Scallan's son; and much my heart is grieved
“At hearing of the shameful wrongs thou hast of late received
“At hands of this ungrateful King.”

“Dear kinsman, grieve no more,”
Congal returned; “these wrongs are all forgotten, since we swore
“The oaths of peace; for peace is made, and will be ratified
“By taking of the princess fair, Lafinda, for my bride;
“And, ere the nuptial knot be tied, on duty's urgent wing
“Even now to Dunangay I ride to banquet with the King.”

Said Kellach; “Small the good will spring from any banquet spread
“At Dunangay, where coward Kings, from spacious Tara fled,
“At threat of imprecating Clerks, crouch in their narrow den.
“But these are not the days of Kings, nor days of mighty men.”

Said Garrad Gann; “A servant here of Domnal: and I say
“No narrow house, oh aged Sire, is that of Dunangay.
“But when Saint Ruan, because the King, Brown Dermid, had profaned
“His sanctuary, and his ward, thence ravished, still detained
“At Tara contumaciously, denounced by book and bell
“His curse against the royal seat,—which righteous judgment well

“Did Dermid merit; for he pressed his fugitive's pursuit
“With sacrilegious fury to the very altar foot
“Of Lorrah; and, when Ruan himself stood in the narrow door
“That led to where his ward was hid beneath the chancel floor,
“And Dermid feared to pluck him thence, with pick and iron crow
“Did break the floor before his feet, and from the crypt below
“Dug out Aed Guara,—afterwards, no King at Tara dare
“Longer reside; but each within his patrimonial share
“Ordained the royal seat elsewhere—as south Hy-Niall, who chose
“Loch-Leyne-Fort; or as north Hy-Niall, Fort-Aileach; and like those
“Did Domnal choose, when Erin's voice gave him the sovereign sway,
“By salmon-full abounding Boyne, the house of Dunangay.
“There, following royal Tara's plan, with dyke and mound he cast
“Seven mighty ramparts round about, to make the mansion fast;
“And, after the same pattern, did build within the fort
“For him and for his household train, a timbered middle-court;
“Also for each Provincial King a fair assembly hall,
“A prison and a Poet's lodge, and, fairest work of all,
“A single-pillared chamber, like as Cormac, learned son
“Of Art, at desert Tara in former times had done.
“In which capacious mansion, thou and all thy Bards, old man,
“Could lodge, and no man's room be less: so answers Garrad Gann.”

“Herald, I hear thy words but ill,” said Kellach; “but 'twere well
“For Erin, if Dermid Dun, that day he broke the Cleric's cell,

“As justly by the law he might, his fugitive to win,
“Had, where he took Aed Guara out, put Ruan of Lorrah in.
“So should our laws have reverence meet; nor lawless Clerks exalt
“Their crooked staves above the wand of Justice, through the fault
“Of such as Dermid. But, oh youths, behold the open gates
“Where mountain fare on homely boards your courtesy awaits.”

They entered: in the hall within abundant boards were spread,
Bard, Brehon, Smith, in order set, each at his table's head;
But no Priest sat to bless the meat: now, when the feast was done,
Said Kellach, from his middle place,

“Oh, learned harmonious one,
“Who sittest o'er the Board of Bards of Erin, be our cheer
“Graced with such lay as Rury's sons will not disdain to hear.”

Then at a sign from Ardan given, a Poet pale and grey
Rose at the table of the Smith, and sang an antique lay.

Of Cical and his hunter-tribes the varied song began,
And how, in Grecian galleys borne, Mæonian Partholan,
Sire of great Slanga, on a day, with sight of sail and oar,
Amazed the dwellers of the woods by Inver Scena's shore,
Where first Invasion first brought in our arts of life; and how
Erin, untilled till then, from him received the spade and plough.
His three chief husbandmen, from whom all reckonings still begin
Of Erin's wealth, were Dig and Delve and Gather-Increase-In.

His leader-oxen, first and best that Erin ever saw
Yoked to the work of livelihood, were sturdy Drive and Draw.
His two chief sages, Ask and Tell. His merchants, Take and Give,
By whose plain precepts, first and last, must Erin learn to live.
But Todga was a comely page, and Dalgnaid warm and frail,
And Inis-Saimer's sorrows next engaged the devious tale.
Next, how great Slanga, for himself and princely brethren three,
Did first in four partition forth the Isle of Destiny.
Then sang he how the sudden pest with half the fair and brave
Of Erin filled Ben Edar's cairns and Tamlaght's nation-grave.
Forgotten Partholan himself, lies 'neath his royal mound
On green Moynalty, hushed at eve by drowsy ocean's sound,
And clangorous song of flocks, by night, when through the wintry air
The wide-winged wild geese to their pools by Liffey side repair:
But promised Slanga, tombed aloft on that great mountain's head,
Which now, since Domangart hath used the chamber of the dead
For Cleric rites, no longer owns its name of old renown,
Slieve-Slanga, but Slieve-Donard sounds, awaits his calling-down;
At whose return, when time has brought Fate's pre-appointed hour,
Long, long withheld, return the days of Ulster's pride and power.
“And many a day,” the poet said, “I've raised to Slanga's cairn
“These eyes of mine, with longing gaze, expecting to discern

“Sign of his coming; and methought, as I this very day
“Lay high on Bingian's side, and watched the piled stones stern and grey,
“They seemed to stir: a sudden light o'er all the landscape spread,
“A joyous sound of song burst forth around and overhead;
“The wasteful void of air between, that in a lifeless trance
“Lay wrapped but now, seemed sudden filled with voice and utterance;
“Strong in me rose desire of song; a thousand thoughts and tones
“Melodious thrilled me; still I gazed; and still the sullen stones
“Ope'd not; but even as I gazed, I saw the sunshine flame
“On Congal's crest, and knew in him our promised Slanga came.”
He sat; and smiles and plaudits marked the lay's appropriate close:
Then at the Brehon's senior board another bard arose.

Of Herdsman Borcha was his song: how he, in ancient days,
Used sit on craggy Bingian's top to view his bestial graze;
Till from his herding-seat disturbed, when to that craggy steep
Came Goban with his mason train to build a treasure-keep
For mighty Finn. In living layers the jointed rampart rose
A spear's length thick; but when the wall should now well-nigh enclose
The central summit, Borcha came, by night, and with his staff
Scattered the one half of the work; but left the other half
Entire, that like a bristling crest on warrior's helmet set,
Looks toward Orgallia and the west with front defiant yet.

“In shade whereof,” the poet said, “as from the sultry beam
“Of May-day noon, withdrawn I lay, I slept and dreamt a dream.
“Above me on his ancient seat, obscuring half the skies,
“I saw the giant Herdsman sit, his mist-grey meteor eyes
“Searching the north: ‘Gigantic youth, what do'st thou there?’ I cried.
“‘I keep the score of Ulster's kine,’ the great Neate-Herd replied.
“‘To keep the score of Ulster's kine, oh Borcha,’ answered I,
“‘There needs not now, since Scallan's day, a herd-seat half so high.’
“He turned, and gazing south and west, where once the dun droves ranged
“Orgallia, saw the alien brands, and all his aspect changed.
“He rose in wrath, and called his dogs, and down the mountain strode,
“And, at his parting, with his staff such buffet he bestowed
“On Finn's rock-rampart that the earth rebounded at the stroke;
“For, lo! the bolt of heaven had fallen hard-by, and I awoke
“'Mid rolling thunder and the smoke of shattered crags; but still
“Could hear his whistle and his call from distant hill to hill.
“And, as the Master-Poet's car,” said he, “went by to-day,
“Bearing King Congal through the glen where rapt in thought I lay,
“I looked and saw him once again, busy on Bingian's brow
“Reckoning his kine; but west and south he turned his glances now,

“And smiled to find the tale complete, as, changing hand and hand,
“With fingers swift he told the score for each reconquered land.”

He sat: and Congal also sat in silence and in gloom,
While plaudits fierce and unrestrained rose round the crowded room.

Third, Ardan sang. “To God who made the elements, I raise
“First praises humbly as is meet, and Him I lastly praise;
“Who sea and land hath meted out beneath the ample sky
“For man's inhabitation, and set each family
“To dwell within his proper bounds; who for the race renowned
“Of Rury from old time prepared the fair Ultonian ground,
“Green-valley'd, clear-stream'd, fishy-bay'd, with mountain-mirroring lakes
“Belted, with deer-abounding woods and fox-frequented brakes
“Made apt for all brave exercise; that, till the end of time,
“Each true Rudrician fair-hair'd son might from his hills sublime
“Look forth and say, ‘Lo, on the left, from where tumultuous Moyle
“‘Heaves at Benmore's foot-fettering rocks with ceaseless surging toil,
“‘And, half escaping from the clasp of that stark chain of stone,
“‘The soaring Foreland, poised aloft, as eagle newly flown,
“‘Hangs awful on the morning's brow, or rouses armed Cantyre,
“‘Red kindling 'neath the star of eve the Dalriad's warning fire;
“‘South to the salt, sheep-fattening marsh and long-resounding bay
“‘Where young Cuchullin camped his last on dread Muirthevne's day;

“‘And southward still to where the weird De Danaan kings lie hid,
“‘High over Boyne, in cavern'd cairn and mountain pyramid;
“‘And on the right hand from the rocks where Balor's bellowing caves
“‘Up through the funnelled sea-cliffs shoot forth the exploding waves,
“‘South to where lone Gweebarra laves the sifted sands that strow
“‘Dark Boylagh's banks; and southward still to where abrupt Eas-Roe
“‘In many a tawny heap and whirl, by glancing salmon track't,
“‘Casts down to ocean's oozy gulfs the great sea-cataract,
“‘The land is ours!—from earth to sea, from hell to heaven above,
“‘It and its increase, and the crown and dignity thereof!’
“Therefore to God, who gave the land into our hand, I sing
“First praises, as the law commands; next, to my lawful King,
“Image of God, with voice and string I chaunt the loyal strain,
“Though well-nigh landless here to-day I see thee, Congal Claen;
“Spoiled of Orgallia's green domain, of wide Tir-Owen's woods,
“Of high Tir-Conal's herdful hills and fishy-teeming floods;
“Of all the warm vales, rich in goods of glebe-manuring men,
“That bask against the morning sun along the Royal Glen.
“These are no longer ours: the brood of Baedan's sons in these
“Shoot proudly forth their lawless barques, and sweep unhostaged seas
“Through all the swift-keel-clasping gulfs of ocean that enfold
“Deep-bay'd Moy Inneray and the shores of Dathi's land of gold.

“In law-defying conscious strength aloft in Dunamain
“Rude Ultan Long-hand owns no lord on Orior's pleasant plain;
“While o'er Ardsallagh's sacred height, and Creeve Roe's flowery meads,
“Malodhar Macha reigns alone in Emain of the steeds.
“But come; resound the noble deeds and swell the chant of praise
“In memory of the men who did the deeds of other days;
“The old bard-honoring, fearless days, exulting Ulster saw,
“When to great Rury's fair-haired race tall Scallan gave the law;
“When, from Troy-Rury to Ardstraw was neither fort nor field,
“But yielded tribute to the king that bore the ell-broad shield.
“Hark! what a shout Ben Evenagh pealed! how flash from sea to shore
“The chariot sides, the shielded prows, bright blade and dripping oar;
“How smoke their causeways to our tramp: beneath our oarsmen's toil
“How, round the Dalaradian prows, foam down the waves of Foyle!
“Come forth, ye proud ones of Tir-Hugh, your eastern masters wait
“To take their tribute-rights anew at broad-stoned Aileach's gate;
“A hundred steeds, a hundred foals, each foal beside its dam,
“A hundred pieces of fine gold, each broad as Scallan's palm,
“And thick as thumb-nail of a man of churlish birth who now
“The seventh successive seedtime holds a fallow-furrowing plough:
“Three hundred mantles; thirty slaves, all females, young and fair,
“Each carrying her silver cup, each cup a poet's share

“Who sings an ode inaugural.—Alas! I fondly rave:
“Dead, tribute-levying Scallan lies; and dead in Scallan's grave
“Glory and might and prosperous days. The very heavens that pour'd
“Abundance on our fields and streams, while that victorious lord
“Of righteous judgments ruled the land; the stars that, as they ranged
“The bounteous heavens, shed health and wealth, above our heads are changed.
“Nor marvel that the sickening skies are altered o'er our heads,
“Nor that from heaven's distempered heights malign contagion spreads:
“For all the life of every growth that springs beneath the sun
“Back to the air returns when once its turn of life is done:
“To it all sighs ascend; to it, on chariot-wheels of fire,
“All imprecations from the lips of injured men aspire;
“And when that lofty lodge of life and growth-store of the world
“Is choked with groans from burthened hearts and maledictions hurled
“In clamorous flight of accents winged with deadlier strength of song
“From livid lips of desperate men who bear enormous wrong,
“Heaven cannot hold it; but the curse outbursting from on high
“In blight and plague, on plant and man, blasts all beneath the sky.
“Burst, blackening clouds that hang aloof o'er perjured Domnal's halls!
“Dash down, with all your flaming bolts, the fraud-cemented walls,

“Till through your thunder-riven palls heaven's light anew be pour'd
“In Law and Justice, Wealth and Song, on Congal's throne restored!”

Look how the culprit stands confused before the judge, while one,
Who, passing through the woods unseen, has seen the foul deed done,
Relates the manner of the fact; tells how with treacherous blow
Struck from behind the murdered man sank on the pathway; so
With flushing cheek, contracted brow, and restless, angry eye,
Sat Congal till the lay was closed: then with a mighty sigh
He breathed his heart; and standing, spoke; and, speaking, he unbent
The golden torque that clasped his neck, and by a butler sent
The splended guerdon to the Bard.

“For what thy lay doth sound
“In praise of Rury's glorious race and Uladh's realm renowned,
“Take, Bard, this gift; but for so much of this untimely song
“As sounds in strife betwixt myself and sovereign Domnal, long
“And far from me, his foster-son, be that disastrous day
“Would break the peace we late have sworn: and therefore for thy lay
“I thank thee and I thank thee not.”

Then round the tables ran
Much murmuring through the Poet-throng: and thus spoke Garrad Gann:

“The lay is easy that a Bard chaunts at his patron's board,
“With none in presence to repay lewd word with saucier word.

“See how a boy who spends his time playing alone at ball,
“Loitering, belike, from school, beside some lofty smooth-faced wall,
“Strikes softly that the ball may fall convenient to his blow,
“And keeps his private game on foot with easy effort so.
“But, say, two pairs of players arrive, and join an earnest game;
“Lo, all the easy-taken balls, that late high-curving came,
“Now struck by prompt rebutting hands fly past, shot in and out,
“Direct and rapid, hard to hit, missed once at every bout;
“The players at stretch of every limb, like flickering bats that ply
“Their dumb quest on a summer's eve, to balk each other, fly
“Hither and thither; all their chests heave; and on every brow
“The sweat-drops glisten. So, me seems, oh King, this minstrel now,
“Much like a Cleric in his desk, having none to strive withal,
“His game being wholly with himself, keeps up the easy ball
“Of safe disloyalty: but, let this song of his be heard
“By Domnal's Bards, in Domnal's hall, and take a true man's word
“Our angry Master here should give his day of harvest-work
“Ere from the field of fair debate he'd bear his golden torque.”

“Enough,” said Kellach. “Now to rest: and with the earliest ray
“Of dawn, my kinsman-king is free to journey on his way.”

BOOK II.

At early blush of morn, the King of Ulster and his train
Assumed their southern Meath-ward route through craggy Mourne again.

Herd Borcha's peaks behind them left, by Narrow-Water side
They rode, and by the Yews that shade Kin-Troya's refluent tide.
Thence, lifted lightly on their steeds, up through the desert lone,
Where gloomy Gullion overlooks his realm of quag and stone,
Passed Brigid's cell; and, issuing forth high o'er Muirthevne's plain,
Where Fochard takes the morning sun, passed Brigid's cell again.
“Go where you will, their Saints intrude,” said Congal.

“Nay, 'twas here,”
Sweeny returned, “Lafinda, she to both of us so dear,
“In all her maid-beseeming arts was nurtured in her youth
“By Brigid's maids, and learned from them the lore of Heavenly truth.”

“And for so dear a pupil's sake,” said Congal, “shall their schools
“Have favor; and a warrior's arm protect the pious fools.”

Thence by Dun-Dealga's belted mound, safe in whose triple wards
Cuchullin in the days of old caroused his banished Bards,
Abashed in awe the warriors rode: nor drew they bridle-rein
Till on the woodland height they reached the sacred walls of Slane;
And from the verdant Hill of Health, outspread at large beneath
On all sides to the bounding sky, beheld illustrious Meath,
Cattle and crop, and homes of men, commingling gold and green
Refulgent in the noontide ray, and sparkling Boyne between.

As down the hill the warriors rode, to reach the level fords,
A woman met them by the way. She said—

“Oh, gentle lords,
“Be witness of the shameful wrong the King's purveyors here
“Have done against our hermit, Erc; he, holy man austere,
“Eats not of flesh nor viand else that breath of life informs;
“But when the winter season comes, amid the northern storms
“The wild-geese visit him; and here, around his guardian cell,
“In safety leave their silly nests and store of eggs as well:
“And all our hermit's hoarded store these proud purveyors now
“Have taken for the King's repast: be witness, warrior, thou.”

“Good woman,” said the courteous King, “this wrong of thine transcends
“My power to help: myself a guest, can make thee no amends.”

And onward passed to reach the fords: here by the rushing flood
The aged, angry Erc himself in middle causeway stood.

His head was bare, his brow was black, his lips with rage were wan;
As stone-crop on a storm-bleached rock stood on the rugged man
The hard grey beard, and with a voice as winter shrill and strong
He cried,

“Oh, hear my prayer; oh God! avenge thy servant's wrong.
“Twice twenty years in pinching fast and wasting vigil here
“I've served thine altar: let my prayer now reach thy favoring ear:
“Cursed be the hands that robbed my store, accursed the board that bears,
“The roof that shelters the repast, the bidden guest that shares.”

And raised, to ring, his altar bell; but with his riding-wand
King Congal struck the empty brass from Erc's uplifted hand;
And said,

“For shame, old wicked man; this impotence of rage
“An angry woman would demean; and ill beseems a sage.”

And pushed him from his path aside, and went upon his way,
Regardless, through the flashing fords and up to Dunangay.

Up to the royal gates from all the fords of Boyne that morn
Was concourse great of bidden guest on car and courser borne.
And many a chief, as Congal rode the crowded ranks between,
Would check his steeds and pause to mark the hero's noble mien.
Within the courtyard of the fort, and at the open gate
That to the spacious wine-hall led. did Domnal's self await

The festive throngs; and, when the troop of Congal Claen drew near,
Advanced before the threshold-step, and with such gracious cheer
As father might returning son, received him; kiss'd his cheek,
And said,

“Dear Congal, of thy love the boon I first bespeak
“Is this; that, as my foster-son, on this auspicious day,
“Which reunites affection's bonds no more to part, I pray
“Thou wilt, in token to the world of mutual love restored,
“Upon my left hand, next my heart, sit at the banquet board.”

Said Congal, “Royal Sire, although the law of seats be thus,
“That when the monarch boasts, as thou, the race illustrious
“Of North Hy-Niall, the privilege of Ulster in that case
“Is next the king, on his right hand, at banquet to have place;
“Yet be it as thy love would prompt.”

Then by a royal groom
The Ulster guests were to their baths brought in an inner room;
And so remained until a steward announced the banquet spread,
And led them to the wine-hall; there, at Domnal's table-head,
On left hand of the royal seat, was Congal's place assigned,
Young Dalaradian Sweeny's next, and Garrad Gann behind.
Great was the concourse; all the seats were full, save two alone,
The Monarch's, and the vacant chair to rightward of the throne.
Expecting who should enter next, was heard a herald's call,
“The King of Emain Macha here;” and straightway up the hall

Came proud Malodhar; round him gazed with calm audacious air,
And sitting, as of right, assumed the right hand vacant chair,
The Red-Branch banner from the beam depending o'er his head.
Then Sweeny to King Congal's ear approached his lips and said
“It bodes no good, oh Congal, that thine ancient rightful place
“This upstart of Ardmacha here obtains before thy face.”

“Hush, Sweeny,” answered Garrad Gann; “'tis Domnal's love alone
“That places Congal on his left, to heart-ward of the throne.”

Ere more was said, the herald's voice again rose loud and clear,
And all the hall rose with the words—“The King of Erin here!”
And Domnal from his room came forth: his herald with him came,
Proclaiming,

“Erin's Domnal here; the one son dear to fame
“Of Aed, the son of Ainmiry; which Ainmiry for sire
“Had Setna, son of Fergus: he, his race if ye require,
“Was son of Conal Gulban, son of Niall the Hostage-famed,
“(Nine Kings he held in hostage, and hence was he surnamed);
“And up from Niall Nine-Hostager we know we may ascend
“From King to King to Adam, up to the very end.
“But Adam is the primal root of every spreading tree
“And branch-abounding underwood of genealogy;
“In whom all increase of mankind, of every tribe and name
“That has been since the earth received her elemental frame,

“And shall be henceforth, till on all the final doom be passed
“Of the Redeeming Judge's word, do meet and mix at last.
“Sprung from which great progenitors is Domnal, for whose sake
“Beseech you all with joyous hearts these viands to partake.”

The herald ceased, and Domnal, still upstanding by his chair,
Motioned to Bishop Ronan Finn to give the blessing-prayer.
The blessing given, King Domnal sat; and, smiling courteous, spoke,
“My love to all, both King and Prince; high Chiefs and humble folk
“Of Erin, welcome! now to all, ye noble butlers, bring
“The Egg of Appetite, and place for each Provincial King
“An Egg of Honor, that our feast—all things being duly done,
“From egg to apple—happily be ended as begun.”

With ready speed the serving men the King's behests obeyed,
And wild-goose eggs before the Kings on silver dishes laid,
Save only before Congal Claen: by fate, or by mischance,
Or cook's default, or butler's haste, or steward's ignorance,
Through transposition of his seat not rightly understood,
The egg of many ills for him was served on dish of wood.
Which, when the men of Ulster saw, they did not deem it meet
That sons of Rury at that board should longer sit or eat;
And Dalaradian Sweeny said, “Thou eatest of thy shame,
“Meat sent thee on a platter from a King who hates thy name!
“Methought no lord of Oriall, with Kinel-Owen to boot,
“And Kinel-Conal at his back, should sit without dispute

“In Congal's place at banquet. I end as I began:
“Thou eatest thy dishonor.”

Again said Garrad Gann:
“Hush! 'twas the cook's or steward's default: mar not the feast's repose.”
But Congal said, “Be silent, dog!” and from the table rose.

Ah! me, what mighty ills we see from small beginnings rise!
Look how a spark consumes the wood a palace-roof supplies.
How smallest sounds call greatest forth; as when a singer draws
A long clear-warbled note to end, the theatre's applause
Follows tempestuous; and again the artist must begin
With nice throat-fingering dexterous his thread of sound to spin
Finer and finer; then the crowd enraptured more and more
Thunder back plaudits, and the roof re-echoes to the roar.
Or as a pilgrim, lone and poor, without a guide who goes
Through an Alp's gap, where hang aloof the silence-balanced snows,
Deeming himself alone with God, will break the aerial poise
With quavering hymn; the shaken bulks sliding with dreadful noise
Sheer from their rock-shelved slippery lofts, descend in ruinous sweep,
And spill their loud ice-cataracts down all the rattling steep.
The horrid rumble heard remote by shepherd on his lawn,
He looks, and from the naked peak sees that the snows are gone;

Then sighs, and says, “Perchance but now 'twas some poor traveller's hap
“To journey in the pass beneath.” He meanwhile, in his gap,
Lies lifeless underneath his load of ruin heavy and bare,
And awful silence once again possesses all the air.
And as the heaping-up of snows in mountain sides apart
By winds of many wintry years, so heaped in Congal's heart
Wrong lay on wrong; and now at last in wrath's resistless flood
The long-pent mischief burst its bounds. Up at the board he stood
And spurned the table with his foot, and from his shoulders drew
The festal robe, and at his feet the robe and viands threw.
Rose also eager Garrad Gann. “Oh, King, I pray thee sit,
“And thou shalt have attendance due and honor as is fit.”
But angry Congal, turning in the middle of the hall,
Dashed down Gann Garrad to the ground. Amazement seized on all,
And terror many. But he stood and spoke them:

“Have no fear;
“For grievous though my wrongs have been, I do not right them here.
“But here, before this company of Kings and noble Lords,
“I shall recount my wrongs, oh King; and mark ye all my words.
“Thy royal predecessor, oh King, was Sweeny Menn;
“And him thou didst rebel against; and into Ulster then
“Came, seeking our allegiance, and leagued with us, and I
“Was given thee in fosterage to bind our amity;

“And with thee here was nurtured, till thou before the might
“Of Sweeny Menn, thy rightful King, wast forced to take thy flight
“To Alba's hospitable shore; where generous Eochaid Buie,
“My mother's father, for her sake, and for his love of me,
“Did entertain thee and thy train till summers seven were flown,
“When I, a youthful warrior, and aged Sweeny grown
“No longer at the lance expert, nor on the whirling car,
“With bent bow able as of old to ride the ridge of war,—
“As when through Moin-an-Catha's pools, waist-deep in shameful mire,
“He chased thee on Ollarva's banks,—thou of my mother's sire
“Didst crave and didst obtain a barque, and with thy slender band
“Sett'st sail for Erin secretly; and where we first made land
“Was at Troy Rury: there we held a council; and 'twas there,
“Standing on those brown-rippled sands, thou didst protest and swear,
“If I by any daring feat that warrior-laws allow
“Of force or stratagem, should slay King Sweeny Menn, and thou
“Thereby attain the sovereignty, thou straightway wouldst restore
“All that my royal forefathers were seized of theretofore.
“Relying on which promise to have my kingdom back,
“I left thee at Troy Rury; nor turned I on my track
“Till I came to broad-stoned Aileach. There, on the sunny sward
“Before the fort, sat Sweeny Menn, amid his royal guard,

“He and his nobles chess-playing. Right through the middle band
“I went, and no man's license asked, Garr-Congail in my hand,
“And out through Sweeny's body, where he sat against the wall,
“'Twas I that sent Garr-Congail in presence of them all.
“And out through Sweeny's body till the stone gave back the blow,
“'Twas I that day at Aileach made keen Garr-Congail go.
“But they, conceiving from my cry—for, ere their bounds I broke,
“I gave the warning warrior-shout that justified the stroke
“By warrior-law—that Eochaid Buie and Alba's host had come,
“Fled to their fortress, and I sped safe and triumphant home.
“Then thou becamest Sovereign; and, Scallan Broad-Shield dead,
“I claimed thy promise to be made King in my father's stead;
“Not o'er the fragment of my rights regained by him, alone,
“But o'er the whole Rudrician realm, as erst its bounds were known,
“Ere Fergus Fogha sank before the Collas' robber sword;
“That thou had'st promised; and to that I claimed to be restored.
“But thou kept'st not thy promise; but in this did'st break the same,
“That thou yielded'st not Tir-Conal nor Tir-Owen to my claim;
“And the nine cantreds of Oriall to Malodhar Macha, he
“Who now sits at thy shoulder, thou gavest, and not to me.
“And him to-day thou givest my royal place and seat,
“And viands on a silver dish thou givest him to eat,
“And me, upon a wooden dish, mean food which I disdain:
“Wherefore upon this quarrel, oh King,” said Congal Claen,

“I here denounce thee battle.”

Therewith he left the hall,
And with him, in tumultuous wise, went Ulster one and all,
And leaped in haste upon their steeds, and northward rode amain,
Till 'twixt them and the men of Meath they left the fords of Slane.

That morn, on thirsty Bregia's breast abundant heaven had poured
Much rain, and now with risen Boyne red ran the flooded ford.
There, still beside the slippery brink, indenting all the ground
With restless stampings to and fro, the angry Erc they found.

“Ah, wretch,” cried Sweeny, “stand aside: avoid thy victim's way:
“Thine eggs have hatched us ills enough for one disastrous day.”

“I thank thee, God,” cried aged Erc, “that through the wastes of air
“My voice has reached thy throne, and thou hast heard thy servant's prayer.”

“Go thank the fiend thou call'st thy God, where only fiends abide,”
Cried Sweeny; and with furious hand dashed aged Erc aside:
The tottering senior stumbled back, and from the slippery verge
Boyne caught him in an onward whirl; thence through the battling surge
Below the fords, as 'neath the feet of vigorous youths at play
A rolling football, Erc was rolled, engulfed, and swept away.

While yet from tawny whirl to whirl, the warriors marked him cast,
His right hand, as in act to curse, uplifted to the last,

Adown the hill they late had left, in swift pursuit appeared
The royal chariot, and therein, with white conspicuous beard,
The Household bishop, Ronan Finn: while yet in middle tide
The coursers plunged before the car, “Son Congal, stay,” he cried.
“King Domnal prays thee to forgive the grievance undesigned
“His herald's and his steward's default have caused thy manly mind.
“Love in excess it was did prompt the placing of thy chair
“At Domnal's left; and, on his right, had not Malodhar there
“Sat uninvited, Domnal's love did further still design
“That Ulster's vacant seat should stand a symbol and a sign
“Of double honour done thee, both as Foster-son and King:
“Wherefore I come, by Domnal sent, his pardon back to bring.”

“Cleric,” said Congal, “tell the King, and let all Erin hear,
“I credit not the weak excuse invented by his fear.”

Then Ronan showed his bishop's staff and bell; and said, “Be these
“For truth of all that I avouch, thy certain guarantees.”

“Thou hast thine answer,” Congal said.

Said Ronan Finn, “Beware;
“Contempt of these may wake the wrath God's priests by these declare.”

Said Congal, “Rather have a care, thou; lest by staff or bell
“Thou earn such fate as even now thy brother Erc befell;
“Lo, where for curses so denounced with like assumption, he
“Rewarded by a bath in Boyne, floats swiftly to the sea.”

Then Ronan, knowing that 'twas Erc whose body down the flood
Went seaward, raised his voice and said, “This murder, men of blood,
“Shall God in battle's dreadful hour upon the murderer's head
“In dire unheard-of wise requite,” and turned his steeds and fled.

While yet the Ultonians stood, to watch if Ronan still should dare,
When out of reach of missiles, stand, to make the menaced prayer,
Prepared to follow and make good what Congal's words implied
Another goodly cavalcade advancing they descried.

Then said the King, “'Twas well, oh youths, that here we made our halt,
“Else haply had Ultonia's name been tarnished through my fault,
“Who have left a hall of banqueting, where Poets were in place
“Without bestowing goblets: now they come in shameful chase
“To upbraid me for a niggard.”

The Poets then drew nigh,
And after noble gifts received, disclosed their embassy.
But Congal bade them tell the King that, fight alone except,
His wrong admitted no amends; and much the Poets wept
As leaving them with kind farewells, upon their northern way
The angry Ulster warriors went.

By early noon next day
They stood again at Kellach's gates. While yet a javelin flight
From where the senior sat, he reached both hands with stern delight

To clasp the hand of Congal Claen. “Thank God,” he cried, “mine eyes
“Have seen my brother Scallan's son at last in such a guise
“As fits a right Rudrician King; with back to Slavery's door
“And face to Fortune: come, sit near; recount me o'er and o'er
“The knave's insidious overtures: for well I know his wiles,
“And well I guessed his feast was dressed with snare-disguising smiles.”

Then Congal on the brazen bench sat, and in Kellach's ear
Disclosed his grounds of wrath at large in accents loud and clear.

As Congal's tale proceeded from injurious word to word,
Old Kellach underneath his gown kept handling with his sword,
His sword which none suspected that the bed-rid senior wore,
But which displaying from its sheath, now when the tale was o'er,
He held it up, and, “Take,” said he, “a warrior's word in pledge,
“If thou take other recompense than reckoning at sword-edge
“For these affronts, this sword of mine which, many a time before
“I've sheathed in valiant breasts, shall find a bloody sheath once more
“Here in this breast: for life for me has long while lost its grace,
“By palsied limbs debarred the joy of combat and of chase,
“And all my later years I've lived for that great day which now
“Seems surely coming: for full cause and warrant good hast thou
“For war with Domnal. Far less cause had Broad-Shield when he slew
“Cuan of Clech, and set his head on the wall-top to view,

“For calling him ‘Shrunk Scallan’: less cause than this by far,
“Though Mordred's Queen had slapped the cheek of British Gwynevar,
“Had Arthur when he fought Camlan; from which pernicious fray
“Where joined thrice twenty thousand men, but three men came away.
“What cause had Pictish Gwendolen, compared with this of ours,
“When, for his broken apple-branch, he summoned all the powers
“Of Caledonia, dale and fell, and, on Arderidd's height,
“Made theme perpetual for the Bards in Merlin Wilt's affright,
“Who lost his reason in that fight, and ever after ran
“Wild in the woods, a sacred seer, and vision-gifted man?
“What! and the great breach of Goddeu, was it not also fought
“In recompense of an affront contemptible, if brought
“Into comparison with thine? Yet there, of Britain's best
“Fell full ten thousand, in amends of one poor field-fare's nest.
“No! warrant good for war thou hast, and cause of strife to spare,
“And kindly-well beseems us all thine enterprise to share.
“Go, summon me my seven good sons; my young men brave and strong
“Shall with their royal kinsman in this Hosting go along.
“And if my limbs would bear me, as they bore me like the wind,
“When once I fought by Scallan's side, I would not stay behind.
“Nor will I, far as men are found to bear me in the front,
“Decline the face of battle yet, when comes the final brunt.
“But for so great a strife as this, dear nephew, thou'lt have need
“Of other friends and councillors, and other aids indeed.

“So get thee hence to Alba; to thy grandsire Eochaid Buie:
“Thy mother was his daughter; and thy mother's mother, she
“Was daughter, one and well-beloved, of other Eochaid, king
“Of Britain. Claim the help of each, and here to Erin bring
“Such aids as they will grant to thee; meantime 'twill be my care
“Our own fraternal warrior tribes for combat to prepare.”

This counsel to the King seemed good; but, ere he sought the aid
Of Alban Eochaid, he devised to speak the royal maid.

As through the desert of the Bards, at coming close of day,
On this design intent, the King of Ulster took his way;
Where fell the shadows vast, and grey from crag and spike of stone
The curling mists began to rise, tidings before him flown
Of war denounced, had filled the waste with battle-glorying songs,
And through the dusky glens the Bards, in loud exulting throngs,
On each side ran, with augury of conquest and renown
Crowning their champion; and when now untimely night came down,
With blazing links they lit the way; when lo, a rushing sound,
As of immeasurable herds a-droving all around,
Was heard, and presently was heard to fill the mountain hall
With hollow clamour far and wide, a whistle and a call.

“Borcha,” cried Congal, “if 'tis thou art Drover of the night,
“Be patient: thou shalt have again, ere long, the oversight
“Of all thy herds.” A sound as though the mountain's shingly side
Shook down a sheet of rattling stone, through night's expanse replied.

“He climbs his Herd-seat as of old,” cried Ardan; “Oh ye Powers
“Unseen that round us live and move, grant, in this strife of ours,
“Your favour to the Poets' cause! Like us apart ye dwell
“In woods and wilds; like us, they say, from happier state ye fell.”—

Exclaimed King Congal, “'Tis not well! While ground beneath me stands,
“Succour or counsel will not I at any demon's hands.
“But whether victor, as I hope, or whether overthrown,
“I in this contest live or die in manly arms alone.”

The red round moon o'er Slanga's cairn ascending soon dispelled
The darkness, and by moon and stars attended, Congal held
His course to Sweeny's friendly fort; a sleepless while he stayed
In Sweeny's halls; then journeyed on to speak the royal maid.

The Princess with her women-train without the fort he found,
Beside a limpid running stream, upon the primrose ground,
In two ranks seated opposite, with soft alternate stroke
Of bare, white, counter-thrusting feet, fulling a splendid cloak
Fresh from the loom: incessant rolled athwart the fluted board
The thick web fretted, while two maids, with arms uplifted, poured
Pure water on it diligently; and to their moving feet
In answering verse they sang a chaunt of cadence clear and sweet.
Princess Lafinda stood beside; her feet in dainty shoes
Laced softly; and her graceful limbs in robes of radiant hues

Clad delicately, keeping the time: on boss of rushes made
Old nurse Levarcam near them sat, beneath the hawthorn shade.
A grave experienced woman she, of reverend years, to whom
Well known were both the ends of life, the cradle and the tomb;
Whose withered hands had often smoothed the wounded warrior's bed;
Bathed many new-born babes, and closed the eyes of many dead.

The merry maidens when they spied the warlike king in view,
Beneath their robes in modest haste their gleaming feet withdrew,
And laughing all surceased their task. Lafinda blushing stood
Elate with conscious joy to see so soon again renewed
A converse, ah, how sweet, compared with that of nurse or maid!
But soon her joy met cruel check.

“Lafinda,” Congal said,
And led her by the hand apart; “this banquet of the King's
“Has had an ill result. His feast has been of fare which brings
“Hindrance to all festivity. Great insult has been shown
“Me by King Domnal; such affront as has not yet been known
“By any other royal guest in Erin: therefore now
“I come not, as I thought to come, to ratify the vow
“We made at parting, I and thou: our bridal now must wait
“Till this wrong done be made aright: for I to Alba straight
“Am gone to ask my grandsire's aid, and thence returning go
“First and before all other calls in field to meet my foe.

“And, trust me, I shall not bestow such thoughts as fill my heart
“On any maid, and, least of all, on thee, dear maid, who art
“By birth and by thy bringing-up entitled best to claim
“Pleasure and peace within thy halls; for I have nought but flame
“Of indignation and of wrath since this ill-omened feast,
“Left, to bestow on any one; and these on thee at least
“I wreak no further. Fair, farewell; think of me while away,
“And trust with me, our nuptial rites shall not have long delay.”

She answered, “For a maid like me, the daughter of a King,
“To grieve for nuptial rites deferred, were not a seemly thing.
“Yet, were I one of these, and loved, as humblest maiden can,
“And shame would suffer me to shew my tears to any man
“Shed for his sake, I well could weep. Oh, me! what hearts ye own,
“Proud men, for trivialest contempt in thoughtless moment shown,
“For rash word from unguarded lips, for fancied scornful eye,
“That put your lives and hopes of them you love, in jeopardy.
“Yet deem not I, a Princess, sprung myself from warrior sires,
“Repine at aught in thy behoof that Honor's law requires.
“Nor ask I what affront, or how offended, neither where
“Blame first may lie. Judge thou of these: these are a warrior's care.
“Yet, oh, bethink thee, Congal, ere war kindles, of the ties
“Of nurture, friendship, fosterage; think of the woful sighs
“Of widows, of poor orphans' cries; of all the pains and griefs
“That plague a people in the path of battle-wagering chiefs.

“See, holy men are 'mongst us come with message sweet of peace
“From God himself, and promise sure that sin and strife shall cease;
“Else wherefore, if with fear and force mankind must ever dwell,
“Raise we the pardon-spreading cross and peace-proclaiming cell?”

“Raise what we may, Preceptress fair,” the sullen King replied,
“Wars were and will be to the end.” And from his promised bride
Took hurried parting; for he feared to trust a lover's lips
With all his secret heart designed. Bealfarsad of the ships
That night received him; and, from thence, across the northern sea
Went Congal Claen to seek the aid of Alban Eochaid Buie.

Druid Drostan, on the Alban shore, come forth to view the day,
Beheld the swift ship from the south sweep up the shining bay,
And hailed the stranger-warriors as they leaped upon the strand.

“My love be to the goodly barque, and to the gallant band:
“Say, courteous sons, whence come ye?”

Congal said, “From Erin we
“Come, seeking aid and counsel of my grandsire, Eochaid Buie.”

“Dear Congal,” cried the Druid, “thou art stately grown and tall
“Since first I nursed thee on my knee in Yellow Eochaid's hall.”
And embraced him and caressed him, and conducted him where sate
Alban Eochaid at the chess-tables before Dun-Money gate.

He told the King his errand: when the tale of wrongs was done,
Said Eochaid, “It shall ne'er be said that Alba's daughter's son

“Took affront of Erin's Domnal without reckoning at sword-edge
“Had duly upon stricken field; and, though my ancient pledge
“Forbids that I should raise the spear 'gainst one who 'neath my roof
“In former times had shelter, not the less in thy behoof
“Shall Alba's hosts be forward. Four princely sons are ours,
“Thy mother's brothers; they shall lead thine allied Alban powers;
“Domnal, Sweeny, Aed, and Congal. Thou shalt tarry here to-day:
“To-morrow, sail for Britain.”

Then said Congal Menn, “I pray
“My nephew-namesake Congal that to-day he feast with me.”

“Nay, rather,” answered Domnal Brec, “I, by seniority,
“Have better right to feast the King.”

“For me,” said Sweeny, then,
“Though younger I than either, yet neither Brec nor Menn
“Takes Congal Claen's indignity to heart with warmer mind.”

“And I,” said Aed Green-Mantle, “will not fall far behind,
“If by that line ye measure.”

“Peace, Princes,” said the king:
“Your wives are present; and meseems it were a seemlier thing
“They they before your nephew should advance your kindly claims;
“For good men's praises worthier sound on lips of lovely dames.”

Then said the wife of Domnal Brec, “There has not yet been found
“A man so bountiful as mine on Erse or Alban ground.

“If green Slieve Money were of gold, Slieve Money in a day
“From Freckled Domnal's hand would pass: wherefore, oh King, I pray,
“In virtue of the open hand, that thou to-day decree
“The feasting of the royal guest to Domnal and to me.”

The wife of Congal Menn spoke next. “Of plundering lords is none
“Who knows to turn unlawful spoil to lawful, like the son
“Of Yellow Eochaid, Congal; he whose sword converts the prey
“To lawful riches in his house, to keep or give away
“As best his proper mind may prompt, is he, oh King, whose plea
“Should stand alike in suit of arms and hospitality.”

Said Sweeny's wife: “What gold and gems ye find in Sweeny's hall
“Adorn his drinking-cups, whereof one hundred serve the call
“Of daily guests: what other wealth his liberal hand provides
“Smokes daily on his open board: he makes no claim besides.”

Aed Green-Cloak's fair-faced blooming wife spoke last. “Let Congal feast
“With whom his own free will inclines. In breast of Aed at least
“'Twill breed no grudge nor envy. Aed's pleasure is the same,
“Feasting, or feasted by his friends.” So spoke the prudent dame.

Then said the King, “Good reasons have you given, my daughters dear;
“But royal Congal, for to-day, feasts with his grandsire here:

“And here let Domnal come with gifts, and Congal Menn with prey,
“And Sweeny with his hundred guests invited yesterday;
“And here come Aed Green-Mantle, with his free ungrudging mind,
“Better than cups and cattle-spoil and hundred guests combined.”

So there the banquet-board was spread. Across the tables wide
Gazing, the fit on Drostan fell. He stood and prophesied.

“I see a field of carnage. I see eagles in the air.
“Grey wolves from all the mountains. Sons of Eochaid Buie, beware.
“A fair grey warrior see I there. Before him, east and west,
“A mighty host lies scattered.”

But Domnal and the rest
Of Eochaid's sons and courtiers made light of what he said,
Saying, “See us happier visions, or we'll get us, in thy stead,
“A clerk of Columb's people from Iona's friendly cell,
“Who will cast us better fortunes with his book and sacreing bell.”
And made their banquet merrily, from jewelled cup and horn,
Quaffing till sunset.

Soon as light sufficed, at coming morn,
For sharp-eyed husbandman to note, upon his farm-ward way,
The difference twixt the aspen leaf and feathery ashen spray,
Impatient Congal, and the youths of Ulster, once again,
With salient surge-compressing prow, launched on the dusky main.

Arrived at Caer Leon, and his weighty errand told;
Said British Eochaid:

“I myself am waxen stiff and old:
“And chief in Eochaid's stead to lead our warriors we have none,
“Till, first, Maen Amber's judgment shall in this behalf be known.
“For here three youths come claiming, each, to be our Conan Rodd,
“Heir of my crown and kingdom, who, journeying abroad
“Upon a sudden boyish feud these many years ago,
“We deemed him dead, and mourned a loss that made us lasting woe.
“Till, on the sudden, here to-day those youths of noble mien
“Are come, perplexing mightily my courtiers and my Queen:
“Each ruddy as the rising morn; each on his blooming cheek
“Bearing the well-remembered mole that marks the son we seek;
“Each telling tales of former days to Conan only known:
“Wherefore we take this judgment; for the prudent, holy Stone
“Stirs not at touch of Falsehood, though an hundred pushed amain;
“But nods at finger-touch of Truth.”

Then answered Congal Claen:
“Entrust to me, oh King,” said he, “the easy task, to prove
“For which of these three candidates Maen Amber ought to move.”

“Do as thou wilt,” replied the King.

Then Congal in the gate,
His short spear in his hand, sat down, the youths' return to wait.

First came a ruddy youth, who cried, “Make way—The Amber Stone,
“Steadfast as Skiddaw to the rest, moved free for me alone.”

Said Congal, “None may enter here, till first he answer me
“My question: See this gateway wide: now, hero, if thou be
“The royal son thou boast'st thyself; resolve me, with what sort
“Of gate wilt thou, when thou art King, make fast this royal fort?”

“When I am King,” replied the youth, “my subjects shall behold
“My gates resplendent from afar with plates of yellow gold.”

“A proud Churl's answer,” Congal said. “Pretender, stand aside.
“If false Maen Amber bowed to thee, the juggling demon lied.”

Next came another ruddier youth, saying, “Although the Stone
“Moved but a little at my touch, I am the heir alone.”

Then Congal questioned him in turn; and prompt in turn he spoke—
“Steel-studded, cross-barr'd, bolted down on native heart of oak.”

“That thou art not a Churl, as he, thy prompt words well evince,”
Said Congal; “but they also show that neither art thou Prince.”

Last came a hero ruddiest and tallest of the three,
Saying, “Although the Amber Stone moved not at all for me,
“I not the less am Conan Rodd.”

Then Congal Claen once more
Put him his question, like as put to either youth before.

The hero answered: “Were I King in Britain's Dragon-den,
“The gate-planks of my house should be the boardly breasts of men;
“For kinglier sight by sea or land doth no man's eye await,
“Than faces bright, in time of need, of good men in the gate.”

“Embrace me, Prince,” cried Congal. “Thou art the royal son;
“And thou shalt lead my British aids.” And so the thing was done.

Thence Congal sailed to Frank-land and to Saxon-land afar,
Aids from the ocean-roaming Kings engaging for the war;
Wherewith and with his British aids, and allied Alban power,
For Erin, from Loch Linnhe side, he sailed in evil hour.

BOOK III.

The dusky Dalaradian heights at hand appearing now,
King Congal, as apart he stood, and from his galley's prow
Beheld the swift ships far dispersed across the ocean dark,
As harnessed steers, when, for a prize, within some rich man's park,
They cut in clay, with coulter clean, the onward-reddening line,
With slant keels ceaseless turning up the white-foam'd barren brine,
And black, pernicious, woe-charged sides, and tall masts forward bow'd,
Intent to launch their fatal freight on Erin, groaned aloud:
And “Much-loved native hills,” he said, “I grieve that thus I come
“Not charged with cups or cattle-spoil, nor carrying captives home,
“Nor bearing boast of friends relieved or enemies confused,
“As other ship-returning Kings have heretofore been used;
“But laden deep with death and woe, of all my race the first
“To bring the hireling stranger in, I come in hour accurst.”

Exclaimed an aged mariner who by the main-mast stood—
“O'er all the Dalaradian hills there hangs a cloud of blood.
“Gore-drops fall from its edges.”

“Peace, fool,” the King returned,
“'Twas but the early morning mist that in the sunrise burned.”
And cried to thrust the barques ashore where in a winding bay,
Far camped along the margent foam, the hosts of Ulster lay
Expectant. Forth the anchors went; and shoreward swinging round,
The lofty poops of all the fleet together took the ground,
Harsh grinding on the pebbly beach: then, like as though a witch,
Brewing her charm in cauldron black, should chance at owlet's scritch
Hooting athwart the gloom, to turn her head aside, the while
Winds bellow, and the fell contents on all sides overboil:
So, down the steep, dark galley's sides leaped they: so, spuming o'er,
They crowded from the teeming holds, and spread along the shore
In blackening streams. The Ulster hosts with acclamation loud
Gave welcome; and the ranks were filled.

But while they stood, a cloud
Stood overhead; and, as the thought a dreaming man conceives,
Which he, the while, some wondrous thing of import vast believes,
Grows folly, when his waking mind scans it; so, in the frown
Of that immense, sky-filling cloud the great hills dwindled down;
And all the sable-sided hulks that loomed so large before
Small now as poor men's fisher-craft showed on the darkened shore.
Awed in the gathering gloom, the hosts stood silent; till there came
A clap of thunder, and therewith a sheet of levin-flame

Dropt in white curtain straight from heaven between them and the ships:
And when the pale day-light returned, after that keen eclipse,
In smoke and smouldering flame the ships stood burning: o'er their sides
The sailors leaped: while moaning deep, sudden, the refluent tides
Gave all their dry keels to the wind: the wind whose waftings fair
Had borne them thither through the deep, thence bore them off through air,
In fire and smoke: through all the host, like flakes of driving snow,
The embers fell; and all their cheeks scorched in the fervid glow.

Then thus exclaimed the Frankish King: “Our first step on this land
“Is with no cheering omen, friends; for if Jehovah's hand
“It be that casts this thunderbolt, but small success, I fear
“Attends our enterprise; but come, give all your labours here
“To quench the galley first that lies to windward of the fleet;
“For ill betides Invader left without way of retreat.”

Then many a man with rueful eye looked o'er the naked main,
And wished himself, with neither spoil nor glory, at home again.

But “Fear not, friends,” cried Congal Claen. “Ye have not sought us here
“For stay so short, ye need repine if portion of the year
“Be spent in fitting forth a fleet; for in our Ulster ports
“Both ships we have and artizans accomplished in all sorts

“Of naval workmanship; strong smiths, and carpenters whose stroke
“To every form man's need demands can shape the knotted oak.
“Wherefore keep cheerful hearts. No loss but time and care replace.
“A stumble at the start is oft the winning of the race.”

So counselled Congal; and the hosts with better courage strove
To quench the flames; but still the flames intenser-rising drove
Wide through the fleet, from barque to barque: then, in the midst, a cry
Was heard from Kellach:

“Lift me up, companions; raise me high,
“That all may see me, and my words of all be understood.
“Sons, hold your hands. Desist,” he cried. “Let burn! The omen's good.
“Fire is the sire of Life and Force. The mighty men of yore
“Still burned the barques that landed them on whatsoever shore
“They chose for conquest. Warriors then were men indeed, and scorned
“Alike the thought and means of flight. From battle none returned
“Then but the victors. Heroes then, untaught the art to yield,
“Ere standing fight would slay the steeds that bore them to the field;
“Ere joining battle by a bridge, would leave the bridge behind
“Broken, lest lightest thought of flight should enter any mind.
“Thus when, in Gaulish galleys borne, invading Asclepid
“Had passed the guardian British ships, in misty mantle hid,

“And landed Cæsar's hosts, for march direct on startled Thames,
“His fortunes to the Gods he gave, his galleys to the flames.
“'Twas in Constantius' days, when, 'gainst the Imperial rule rebelled,
“Allectus, in Carausius' room, the throne of Britain held.
“Thus Nuad of the Silver-Hand from Dovar setting sail,
“Charged with the King-discerning might of vocal Lia Fail,
“When first for Erin's coasts he steered, and made the sacred strand,
“Waited for no chance lightning-flash, but with his proper hand
“Fired all his long-ships, till the smoke that from that burning rose
“Went up before him, herald-like, denouncing to his foes
“Death and despair: they deeming him a necromancer clad
“In magic mists, stood not, but fled: wherefore be rather glad
“That what your own irresolute hands this day have failed to do
“Heaven's interposing hand hath done; and bravely done it, too:
“Since even so this rolling cloud with all its embers red,
“That like a mighty spangled flag now waves above my head,
“Announces to that coward King of Tara that, once more,
“The heroes of the North have burned their barques on Erin's shore.”

He ended, and from gown and beard shook forth the falling fire,
While all the hosts with loud acclaim approved the sentence dire;
And leaving there their blackening barques consuming by the wave,
Marched inland, and their camp at eve pitched by King Teuthal's grave,
Twixt Ullar's and Ollarva's founts.

Around the Mound of Sighs

They filled the woody-sided vale; but no sweet sleep their eyes
Refreshed that night: for all the night, around their echoing camp,
Was heard continuous from the hills, a sound as of the tramp
Of giant footsteps; but so thick the white mist lay around
None saw the Walker save the King. He, starting at the sound,
Called to his foot his fierce red hound; athwart his shoulders cast
A shaggy mantle, grasped his spear, and through the moonlight passed
Alone up dark Ben-Boli's heights, toward which, above the woods,
With sound as when at close of eve the noise of falling floods
Is borne to shepherd's ear remote on stilly upland lawn,
The steps along the mountain side with hollow fall came on.
Fast beat the hero's heart; and close down-crouching by his knee
Trembled the hound, while through the haze, huge as through mists at sea,
The week-long-sleepless mariner descries some mountain-cape,
Wreck-infamous, rise on his lee, appeared a monstrous Shape
Striding impatient, like a man much grieved, who walks alone
Considering of a cruel wrong: down from his shoulders thrown
A mantle, skirted stiff with soil splashed from the miry ground,
At every stride against his calves struck with as loud rebound
As makes the mainsail of a ship brought up along the blast,
When with the coil of all its ropes it beats the sounding mast.
So striding vast, the giant pass'd; the King held fast his breath;
Motionless, save his throbbing heart; and still and chill as death

Stood listening while, a second time, the giant took the round
Of all the camp: but when at length, for the third time, the sound
Came up, and through the parting haze a third time huge and dim
Rose out the Shape, the valiant hound sprang forth and challenged him.
And forth, disdaining that a dog should put him so to shame,
Sprang Congal, and essayed to speak.

“Dread Shadow, stand. Proclaim
“What would'st thou, that thou thus all night around my camp should'st keep
“Thy troublous vigil; banishing the wholesome gift of sleep
“From all our eyes, who, though inured to dreadful sounds and sights
“By land and sea, have never yet in all our perilous nights
“Lain in the ward of such a guard.”

The Shape made answer none;
But with stern wafture of its hand, went angrier striding on,
Shaking the earth with heavier steps. Then Congal on his track
Sprang fearless.

“Answer me, thou Churl,” he cried. “I bid thee back!”

But while he spoke, the giant's cloak around his shoulders grew
Like to a black bulged thunder-cloud; and sudden out there flew
From all its angry swelling folds, with uproar unconfined,
Direct against the King's pursuit, a mighty blast of wind:
Loud flapped the mantle tempest-lined, while fluttering down the gale,
As leaves in Autumn, man and hound were swept into the vale,

And, heard o'er all the huge uproar, through startled Dalaray
The giant went, with stamp and clash, departing south away.

The King sought Ardan in his tent; and to the wakeful Bard,
Panting and pale, disclosed at large what he had seen and heard;
Considering which a little time, the Master sighed and spoke.

“King, thou describest by his bulk and by his clapping cloak
“A mighty demon of the old time, who with much dread and fear
“Once filled the race of Partholan; Manannan Mor Mac Lir,
“Son of the Sea. In former times there lived not on the face
“Of Erin a sprite of bigger bulk or potenter to raise
“The powers of air by land or sea in lightning, tempest, hail,
“Or magical thick mist, than he; albeit in woody Fail
“Dwelt many demons at that time: but being so huge of limb,
“Manannan had the overward of the coast allotted him,
“To stride it round, from cape to cape, daily; and if a fleet
“Hove into sight, to shake them down a sea-fog from his feet;
“Or with a wafture of his cloak flap forth a tempest straight
“Would drive them off a hundred leagues; and so he kept his state
“In churlish sort about our bays and forelands, till at last
“Great Spanish Miledh's mighty sons, for all he was so vast
“And fell a churl, in spite of him, by dint of blows, made good
“Their landing, and brought in their Druids: from which time forth, the brood

“Of Goblin people shun the light; some in the hollow sides
“Of hills lie hid; some hide beneath the brackish ocean-tides;
“Some underneath the sweet-well springs. Manannan, Poets say,
“Fled to the isle which bears his name, that eastward lies halfway
“Sailing to Britain; whence at times he wades the narrow seas,
“Revisiting his old domain, when evil destinies
“Impend o'er Erin: but his force and magic might are gone:
“And at such times 'tis said that he who, 'twixt twilight and dawn,
“Meets him and speaks him, safely learns a year's events to be.”

“But he who speaks him,” Congal said, “and gains no answer—he?”

“Within the year, the Seers agree,” said Ardan, “he must die;
“For death and silence, we may see, bear constant company.”

“Be it so, Bard,” replied the King. “To die is soon or late
“For every being born alive the equal doom ef Fate.
“Nor grieve I much; nor would I grieve if Heaven had so been pleased
“That either I had not been born, or had already ceased,
“Being born, to breathe; but while I breathe so let my life be spent
“As in renown of noble deeds to find a monument.”

By this the moonlight paled in dawn; and onward to Rathmore
Of green Moy-Linny marched the hosts, and round King Congal's door
Pitched camp again; where copious feasts, by Kellach's care prepared,
Refreshed them, and the gift of sleep their weary eyelids shared.

And now, at dawn, to cross the fords, hard-by the royal town,
The fresh, well-ordered, vigorous bands in gallant ranks drew down:

When, lo, a Spectre horrible, of more than human size,
Full in the middle of the ford took all their wondering eyes.
A ghastly woman it appeared, with grey dishevelled hair
Blood-draggled, and with sharp-boned arms, and fingers crook'd and spare
Dabbling and washing in the ford, where mid-leg deep she stood
Beside a heap of heads and limbs that swam in oozing blood,
Whereon and on a glittering heap of raiment rich and brave
With swift, pernicious hands she scooped and pour'd the crimson'd wave.
And though the stream approaching her ran tranquil, clear and bright,
Sand-gleaming between verdant banks, a fair and peaceful sight,
Downward the blood-polluted flood rode turbid, strong and proud,
With heady-eddying dangerous whirls and surges dashing loud.

All stood aghast. But Kellach cried, “Advance me to the bank;
“I'll speak the Hag.”

But back, instead, his trembling bearers shrank.
Then Congal from the foremost rank a spear-cast forward strode,
And said,

“Who art thou, hideous one; and from what curst abode
“Comest thou thus in open day the hearts of men to freeze;
“And whose lopp'd heads and severed limbs and bloody vests are these?”

“I am the Washer of the Ford,” she answered; “and my race
“Is of the Tuath de Danaan line of Magi; and my place

“For toil is in the running streams of Erin; and my cave
“For sleep is in the middle of the shell-heaped Cairn of Maev,
“High up on haunted Knocknarea; and this fine carnage-heap
“Before me, and these silken vests and mantles which I steep
“Thus in the running water, are the severed heads and hands
“And spear-torn scarfs and tunics of these gay-dressed, gallant bands
“Whom thou, oh Congal, leadest to death. And this,” the Fury said,
Uplifting by the clotted locks what seemed a dead man's head,
“Is thine own head, oh Congal.”

Therewith she rose in air,
And vanished from the warriors' view, leaving the river bare
Of all but running water. But Congal drew his sword
And with a loud defying shout, plunged madly in the ford,
Probing the empty pools; then stood, and from the middle flood
Exclaimed:

“Here stand I, and here swear that till the tide of blood
“Thus laves my knees, I will not turn for threat of Devil or Ghost,
“Fairy or lying Spirit accurst, while one of all this host
“Follows my leading.”

Conan Rodd sprang kindling forth and cried,
“I fail thee not, for one, my King:” and stood by Congal's side,
Grasping his hand. Halt Kellach wept, and cried,

“Ah, recreant ones,
“Great Rury's cheek is red for shame, to see Ultonian sons

“Like goblin-daunted children small, scared at a nurse's lay,
“Thus hanging back on Honor's track, while Britons lead the way.
“Fear not the Hag; I know her well, accurst one! She appears
“To battle-entering warriors once in every seven years;
“And seven and seven years, exact, it is since last before
“I saw her foul ill-favoured face, the day that Domnal Mor
“And Scallan Broad-Shield gave the breach on royal Sweeny Menn
“At red Troy-Brena: 'twas at dawn; and in the cressy fen
“By the loch-side, where afterwards, crossing the treacherous quag,
“So many of us sank engulfed, we saw the hideous Hag
“Stoop'd at her washing. Not a man of all the gazing host
“But shook to see the carnage-pile before the grisly ghost;
“Each deeming that his own lopp'd head, conspicuous 'mid the pile,
“Lay glaring; and this very head, gathering defilement vile,
“Saw I among them; yet I came from that fight scatheless forth;
“And therefore hold her prophecies are but of little worth.
“But, would to God, these limbs had then been stiff as now they are,
“Ere I for thankless Domnal's sake had part in such a war;
“Or now were strong and supple-swift as then indeed they were,
“So should ye never see me here, and British Conan there.”

So Kellach spoke; and all their hearts grew great with manly shame;
And as a flood flows through a flood, up through the fords they came,
Raising Ollarva: all their shields and shining belts were wet
With clear, cold, fishy-streaming floods against the strong bar set

Of limbs heroic and deep chests. But when the fords were pass'd
And the long columns drew their strength forth on the champaign vast,
Fear fell again on Congal's host, and much oppressed with awe,
They pondered what they late had heard, and what, but now, they saw.

Southward in gloomy-gliding ranks, hushed all in dumb dismay,
The hosts across the upland bare, and through the morning grey,
As drifting cloud at close of day that tracks the heaven serene,
Held on their dark unechoing march athwart the Fassagh green,
Till on a car afar were seen, by two swift coursers drawn,
Herself, Lafinda, and her Nurse, advancing through the dawn.
Swift they approached: the ruddy blaze of sunrise round them spread
Seemed with a diadem of rays to crown each radiant head.

“Congal,” the royal maiden said, “be not incensed, I pray,
“That thus in presence of the hosts I cross thy warlike way;
“For need admitting no delay impels me; and the ire
“Of one I dare not disobey constrains the message dire.
“Last night, at midnight, by my bed an awful form there stood,
“Whom by her vermeil-lettered book, and by her purple hood,
“And hoary, glory-beaming locks, that shone like sun-lit snow,
“For Blessed Brigid of Kildare I could not choose but know;
“And said, ‘Awake: arise: go forth: thy nurse, Lavarcam, waits
“‘With car and ready-harnessed steeds without the fortress gates:
“‘Mount by her side, and northward forth ride fearless till the dawn
“‘Show thee an army on its march across the upland lawn;

“‘Then to the King who leads that host say thus, Oh mighty King,
“‘From Duftach's daughter of Kildare I thee this message bring:
“‘Turn back or perish: thou and all thy Hosting: for the path
“‘From hence to Moyra on both sides is hedged about with wrath,
“‘And paved for foot of every man who in thy conduct treads
“‘With slippery, horror-staring floor of slaughtered heroes' heads.’
“So spoke she; I by strong constraint drawn to the gates, obeyed;
“And here, through shadows of the night, as in a dream conveyed,
“Now find myself, but in no dream; and, horror-filled, I see
“These mighty-marching, death-devoted heroes led by thee,
“Oh Congal.”

Congal, answering, said: “Dear maid, thou art deceived:
“These visions of the feverish night are not to be believed.
“But come; such poor refreshment now as warriors' tents afford,
“Take; and when seasonable rest thy strength shall have restored,
“A noble escort shall attend thy home-returning car,
“Such as befits thy father's child: and when this short-lived war
“Is ended—for this host shall soon abate the tyrant's pride—
“With Erin for thine escort, thou, a crowned and royal bride,
“I, crowned and happy, by thy side, kings by our bridle-rein,
“Shall up to fair Rath-Keltar ride, never to part again.”

“Congal,” the Princess pale replied; “No bridal pomp for me
“Is destined, if thou hearkenest not to Brigid's embassy;
“Save haply such a bridal pomp as, entering Brigid's cell,

“A handmaiden of Christ may hope.”

Said he, “The powers of hell
“Have sought to turn me, and have failed; and though in thee I find
“My only heaven, yet neither thou shalt bend my steadfast mind.”

“Ah me,” she cried. “What fate is mine! The daughter of a King,
“Wooed by a King, and well content to wear the marriage ring;
“Who never knew the childish want not granted, nor desire
“Of maiden bosom, but good saints and angels would conspire
“To bring the innocent wish to pass: who with the streams and flowers,
“So happy was I, turned to joy the very passing hours,
“From flowery earth and fragrant air, and all sweet sounds and sights
“Filling my heart, from morn to eve, with fresh and pure delights,—
“Just when, in bloom of life, I said, ‘this world is wondrous fair,’
“Now in one hour see nothing left, to live for, but despair.”

“Damsel,” said Kellach from his chair, “these dreams that haunt the bed
“Of timorous virgins vanish all when once the maids are wed.
“And royally thou shalt be wed, and gallantly be brought
“Home to a dream-defying bed when once this breach is fought.”

“Ah, aged Scorner,” cried the Nurse, who by the Princess stood,
“Thou never wanted'st ribald taunt for aught was pure or good.
“Beware, lest on both soul and limb God's angry judgments fall,
“For to thy crooked counsellings we owe these mischiefs all.”

Said Kellach: “If a withered Hag, with prophecies of death,
“Had power to turn sword-girded men back upon Honor's path,
“Thou hadst no need to waste thy breath on us who, even now
“Are here despite the menaces of uglier witch than thou.”

“Wretch,” cried the dame, “abide thy fate;” and car and coursers wheeled,
Her aspect changing awfully; and, as she swept the field,
Brigid, they thought, stood plain revealed: and steeds and car became
Bright in her presence as in glow of forge-excited flame.

But with a greyhound's bound, the King leaped to the reins, and cried,

“Daughter of Duftach, stay thy steeds: turn back: restore my bride!”
But Brigid lashed the spurning steeds: they by the sharp whip stung,
Off, with a foam-dispersing snort, the baffled hero flung:
But back again fierce Congal sprung, with lion's leap and roar
Terrific, shouting as he ran,

“Thou robber Saint, restore
“My bride!”

And at the wide-maned steeds, where side by side they flew
With earth-and-heaven-defying hand, his mortal javelin threw.
But Brigid motioned with her hand, and from the chariot seat,
Glancing oblique, the spear returned innocuous to his feet.

The eyes of all the astonished host Garr-Congail's flight pursued;
And, when they looked again, the car was lost within the wood.

Mute stood the hosts, in awe subdued; and fear blanched many a cheek,
Ruddy till then; then thus began the Frankish King to speak:

“God wars against this war, oh Kings; and pledged albeit I be
“To succour valiant Congal Claen against the enmity
“Of Domnal, King of Erin, no promise have I given
“To succour valiant Congal Claen 'gainst God the King of Heaven,
“Who, by His Saints, this day declares for Domnal. Therefore now
“Thus I advise: here found we straight a splendid cell, and vow
“The same to Brigid of Kildare, bestowing gems and gold
“Such as we have, and dowrying it with tributes manifold
“From our respective territories; then in our Patron's name
“Proffer we royal Domnal peace; and of his bounty claim
“Ships and safe conduct to our homes. Meantime, enclose a space
“For our encampment; and, meseems, no more convenient place
“Could skill devise than where we stand; and so our work would speed
“Safely, surrounded by the camp; for, trust me, ye have need
“To dedicate your shrines with speed, if, from God's vengeful hand
“Escaped, ye hope to see again your wives and native land.”

Cried Druid Drostan, “Stone nor lime yon eagles' maws shall sate.
“These wolves that track our morning march no Cleric-rites await.

“For God has given presaging power to beasts and birds of air;
“And dreams of bloody banquetings, in bestial dens, declare
“Approaching havoc, even as dreams foretell approaching rain
“In troubled towns of crows by night. Now, for the destined slain,
“All Erin's eyries flap the wing; and every forest den
“Of Erin whets the tooth for flesh of horses and of men.”

“Peace, fool,” Albanian Congal said. “Since first Columba's bell
“Was heard in Alba, all thy clan's prophetic function fell
“Under constraint and under spell. Ambiguous, fatuous, vague
“Have been the empty words where with, from that day forth, ye plague
“The judgments of the credulous men of Alba: to such words
“Let not the men who love their wives, and look with loyal swords
“Here to win spoil to please their wives and deck their halls at home,
“Give heed or credence. But, because invading strangers come
“To prey the land, its patriot Ghosts and tutelary Sprites
“Rise out to thwart us. Now, we know no exorcising rites
“To lay or to propitiate them; except this sacrifice
“The Clerics make pretence to make: and therefore, my advice
“Goes with the counsel of the King; to raise an altar here
“To Brigid whom amongst them all wise men may chiefly fear
“As owning most main power in act; but, Brigid's wrath appeased,
“My mind no longer is the King's; for then she may be pleased,
“Haply, to aid us; or, at least, to leave in even scale
“The balanced chances of the war, till greater might prevail.”

Prince Sweeny Menn spoke next. He said:

“Sirs, since no man can say
“How strife untried may terminate, methinks the wiser way
“Were to prepare against the worst; which, seeing our galleys' loss,
“I thus advise. Draw to the coast. There camp; and dig a fosse,
“With rampart suitable, across some jutting foreland's height;
“So shall we sit secure till friends get warning of our plight;
“And send their ships to aid our flight; if such be God's decree
“That after all our splendid hopes of spoil and victory,
“Flight needs must be our last resource. But here in open field,
“Far from supplies, I counsel not to camp, nor yet to build.”

Said Aed Green-Mantle, “Kings, our plight is even as the case
“Of venturous fowler who pursues his game into a place,
“High up a slippery sea-rock's face, where jutting rocks impend,
“Which, though too steep for going down, a man may yet ascend,
“Being bold and cautious; but behoves such climber that he cast
“No backward, hesitating glance on any peril past
“Until he gain the level land, where he can stand, and say,
“‘So have I reached to Safety's height by Danger's only way.’
“And so it is; between the sea and Domnal's gathering host,
“We climb a precipice where he who looks behind is lost:
“But he who, scorning to turn back or make a doubtful stop,
“Looks and strives upward, lays his hand on Safety at the top.

“Wherefore, since doubt is, doubtless, death; and ways of flight are none,
“For Life's and Honor's sake alike, I counsel, up, and on!”

Next Conan Rodd stepped forth to speak; and as his head he raised
Men's hearts rose with him, and the sun with fresh effulgence blazed.

Said Conan: “As I judge, great Kings and Princes, 'twere but vain
“To promise, if the word, gone forth, were now recalled again
“On show of first impediment: and vainer still it were
“For warriors to devote themselves forth from their seventh year
“To feats of arms, if when at length indulgent Fates provide
“Heroic opportunity, they left the boon untried.
“For me, when first within my breast I felt the generous flame,
“And said, ‘I'll be a warrior,’ my youthful dream of fame
“Was all of more than mortal foes, such as great Chiefs of yore
“Were wont to meet in desert vast or shadowy forest hoar;
“Tree-wielding Giants, mighty Churls who, through the echoing glades
“Of dreary forests, to their dens, would drag lamenting maids;
“Fell Sorcerers by enchanted gates; or in his earthy hold
“The fire-exhaling wakeful worm coiled round the guarded gold:
“Or haply still more glorious foes, such as, with eager joy,
“I've heard our Poets sing were those that fought the breach of Troy,

“When Gods from Heaven came down in arms, and godlike men beneath
“Withstood them, mortal foot to foot immortal, to the death.
“Fired by which noble fantasy, ere yet my youthful cheek
“Bore manly down, I left my home, in foreign lands to seek
“Glorious adventure: many lands I visited; and saw
“Many renowned cities of men, each by its proper law
“Governed, and by its proper hosts guarded; and mighty wars
“In all lands waging; yet I found neither in field of Mars,
“Nor on the long-shipped deep, nor yet in fell or forest drear,
“The shape or substance could withstand a brave man's searching spear;
“But, by the keen steel tried, would all confess an equal birth
“Drawn, death-obnoxious as my own, from dust of vulgar earth.
“And, for their mighty miracles and prodigies sublime,
“Of antique Gods, and holy Saints, these from the olden time
“Had, as they said, ceased utterly; and now were only known
“In lays and legends of their Clerks, as idle as our own.
“Wherefore with glory-thirsting heart, that still insatiate burned,
“I from their barren battle-fields and empty camps returned,
“Resolved amid my native woods, and in the sacred gloom
“Of Stones of power, to seek again some conqueror of the tomb;
“Great Arthur, with the apple-bloom of green Avallon's bowers
“Still redolent; or Uther's self from Caër Sidi's towers;

“But sought in vain: my scornful steel on vulgar foes employed,
“Nor dread of Deity conceived, nor love of man enjoyed;
“Till, glorious in a castle gate, like lion in the road,
“Couchant, I first saw Congal Claen; and at first sight bestowed
“Faith and affection on the King: for never had I seen
“In all the earth a potentate of countenance or mien
“Royal as his: and as a youth amid the virgin throng
“Will move with unembarrassed heart, in gay indifference, long;
“Till, in a moment, some one maid's unconscious glance constrains
“His soul to homage, and he thence bound in her thrall remains;
“So I, who all my prime of years 'mongst noblest men had passed,
“And seen no man I'd deign to call or friend or lord; at last,
“Taken in a moment, saw and owned my captain, friend, and King;
“In whose just quarrel being engaged, I here to Erin bring
“My British aids; and here at last, in open day, behold
“Immortal beings visibly commingling, as of old,
“In mortal struggles. Here at length I find my youthful dream
“Made real. Here the mighty deeds of antique heroes seem
“No longer all inimitable. Here Hercul's self might own
“Fit labour for another Toil, nor ask the task alone.
“Wherefore with awful joy elate, I stand; and bid thee hail,
“Last hero-stage of all the world, illustrious Innisfail!
“Land of the lingering Gods! green land, still sparkling fresh and fair
“With morning dew of heroism dried up and gone elsewhere!

“Wherefore, no penitential cell for me! But rather raise,
“Here, where old Honor stands revived, the Stone of other days,
“Grey, vast, majestic; such as when degenerate men behold,
“They'll say, ‘Some noble thing was done here in the days of old.’
“Such as when Poets view, they'll say, when ages hence are flown,
“‘Great hearts and mighty hands were theirs who raised the Standing Stone.’”

He said; and on a great grey rock, half-buried in the field,
Stood in the flaming of his arms, and waved his golden shield.
Loud cheered the Welshmen; and the King of Lochlan to his side
Leaped with a rivalling flash and clash; and caught his hand, and cried,

“I swear by Woden and the might of hammer-hurling Thor,
“I love thee, Conan; and with thee am henceforth through this war
“True comrade, good or ill betide. I, too, have seen the homes
“Of mightiest Cæsars; and beneath Byzantium's proudest domes
“Have borne the Waring's guardian axe, in shelter of whose blade
“The laws that bind the Imperial world, both Priest and King, are made.
“But gilded arch, nor marble porch, nor in cense-scented air,
“Nor silken couch had ever charm, for me, that could compare
“With home in Lochlan: with the burg beside the Northern sea,
“Where runs the roebuck on the hill, where floats the pinnace free:
“Where still the ancient Gods receive, in forest and in cave,
“With rites of sacrifice unfeigned, the worship of the brave;

“And for their smoking altar-meeds sincere, return us still
“The conscious courage dominant, the power and kingly will
“To rule the fore-shores of the world, with all their citied sides,
“Where'er the wandering moons uplift the ship-uplifting tides.
“Ill would beseem the sea-borne kings of Letha's midmost coasts
“Here, in this outer spot of earth, to blench at sight of ghosts,
“Earthmen, or beldames of the cells; though clad in shapes of air
“And owning shows of strength divine, that martial men elsewhere
“Meet not, nor ever deemed they'd meet, since Woden to their dens,
“In Lappish deserts and the depths of Finmark's icy fens,
“Cast out the Trolls. My sentence then is, march, and meet your foes
“Of mortal mould with mortal arms. Let be the feud of those
“As fate hereafter may dispose. We reck not: neither crave
“Their aid prophetic to foresee well-filled, the foeman's grave.
“This is my sentence.
“Fairy nor Fire-drake
“Keep back the Kemper.
“At home, in the burg,
“Leaves he the maiden
“Boon for the bridal;
“Abroad, on the holme,
“Leaves he the harvest
“Ripe for the reaper;

“The bowl, on the board
“In the hall of the banquets,
“Leaves he untasted,
“When lances uplift
“The foe in field.
“Noting the Norsemen
“Out on the water-throng,
“Hark! how the Eagle
“Vaunts to the Vulture.
“‘Spread the wing, Scald-neck,’
“Says she and screams she;
“‘Seest thou the Sea-Kings,
“‘Borne o'er the gannet-bath,
“‘Going to garner
“‘Every bird's eyrie?’
“Fell from her fishy perch
“Answers the Bald-beak,
“‘Scream no more, little one;
“‘Feeders are coming.’
“Hearkening their colloquy,
“Grins the grey beast,
“The wolf on wold.
“This is my sentence:
“These are the Norseman's

“Pandect and Canon.
“Thyrfing is thirsty;
“Quern-biter hungers;
“Shield-walker wearieth
“Shut in the scabbard.
“This is my sentence:
“Bring us to battle.”

Fierce response gave three parts of the field;
And loud the Eastman's iron axe on many a target pealed.

“What then,” cried Ardan; “and ye thought, landing on Erin's shore,
“Ye trod the common soil of earth, where Fortune asks no more
“Of Valour's votaries, when for fame they've ransack'd field and flood
“To the world's end, than simple feats of vulgar hardihood?
“What! and ye never, then, had heard the old renowned tale
“Of Ever and his Spanish ships caught in the wizard gale,
“When all mist-mantled Innisfail showed of no bigger size
“Than black hog's back, above the wrack, before their glamoured eyes;
“When, boiling from their fluent depths, the sands with solid wave
“Caught from his main-mast, Arannan, and made mid-air his grave,
“Mingling land, sand, sea, sky in one? But Ever and his hosts
“Through magic mists, and boiling sands, and sentineling ghosts,
“Cut their brave path to Tara top: which Ever and his sept
“Of Clanna-Milidh ever since their sovereignty have kept

“Supreme o'er Erin, hill and plain, air, water, land and sea;
“They and their sub-kings under them in five-fold potency.
“What then, and came ye hither,
“Expecting common foemen,
“To combat the descendants
“Of seer-taught Clanna-Nemed,
“Who erst from broad Bœotia
“Repelled the invading Syrians;
“Though still the Syrian magic
“Revivified the corpses
“Of those that fell at evening
“To fight their morning-battle
“With stark limbs demon-animated?
“Ghastly they stood; the living
“And dead, shoulder to shoulder:
“From pale cheeks flew the arrow;
“The sword in clammy fingers
“Of slaughtered men, dealt slaughter;
“And dusky spears went leaping
“Forth from insensate shoulders
“'Neath which no hearts were throbbing.
“Horrible strife, and hopeless:
“For what could human valour,
“Could human wit or counsel,

“Avail in such a contest?
“Everything! Wit and valour
“Know not the thing they cannot.
“For, with sharp daggers hewing
“Green stakes of holy hazel,
“Fast as they slew, they pinned them
“To earth; the baffled demons,
“Around the warded corpses,
“Shrieking, like shrilly breezes
“That twirl the leaves in Autumn,
“Shook them, but found no entrance.
“No; ye who come as conquerors to Erin's sacred shores,
“Come as to mysteries sublime within a temple's doors
“Shut to mere soldiers. Comrades you of Achil, Prince of Greece;
“Free shipmates of the fearless crew that won the Golden Fleece;
“Soldiers of Mithra, who have learned through earth, air, fire and sea,
“To press unblenching to the goal of life and light, be ye;
“Else steer not here your craven barques, but seek some vulgar strand
“Where easy-purchased victory invites the Coward's hand.”

As when the tree-tops of a wood first feel a blast of wind,
One rustling oak begins to stir, then stirs the oak behind;
Thence on in gradual-deepening grooves, and on in widening rings,
The tree-commingling tumult moves till all the forest swings;

So battle-impulse through them went; so, at the Bard's appeal,
With thirst of combat, far and wide, they leaped and clashed the steel.

Then Congal, staying where he strode infuriate to and fro,
With fair white hand dashed from his cheek the briny overflow,
And cried,

“Oh, this it is, oh God, to have, in time of need,
“Men in the gate! and therefore I, though little used indeed
“To call on any name of God, yet, by whatever name
“Men call Thee, Thou who givest to men wives, children, riches, fame,
“And rarer than the worth of wives, and which the wealth transcends
“Of fame, as fame the worth of gold; who givest a man his friends,
“I thank and praise Thee. Oh, brave friends, what though this goblin crew
“From all their earth-wombs foul, where'er they lurk from general view,
“Be by our coming thus stirred up; even as I've seen elsewhere
“The coming of a young rich man into a public fair
“Set all the banded cheats astir? 'Tis, that a common fear
“Besets them—being in a bond, leagued and consorting here,—
“That their united reign is o'er, once we achieve the crown
“Of Erin, and set up the law that casts all phantoms down.
“For, by the all-conspicuous Sun, and by the invisible Wind,
“Two the most awful of all names whereby a man may bind
“His soul with adjuration tremendous: by which two
“Laery Mac Neal did bind himself, remitting the Boru

“Of Leinster; not with standing which, and in contempt of these,
“He sought next year to levy it; wherefore his guarantees,
“The much-dishonored Wind and Sun, slew him: but Laery still
“Looks for his tribute from the brow of Tara's royal hill,
“Where, spear in hand and helm on head, they tomb'd him stern and tall,
“Brass-armed complete for standing fight, in Cahir-Laery's wall,
“With his great angry countenance turned toward the hated race
“Of Brasil Brec. Suns rise and sink: but Laery from his place
“Turns never: though its frown have dropped off from the fleshless brow,
“The gaunt hand still sustains the spear; and still the avenging vow
“Upholds him, to the impious man a warning portent grim:—
“But may the Sun and may the Wind, even as they dealt with him,
“So deal with me, gaining this crown, and failing to restore
“The Poets to their privileges, whate'er they held before
“Drumkeat's pernicious Parliament; cessings, pre-eminence, lands,
“All that that Synod's decree usurped, to fill the Clerics' hands,
“By them to our confusion turned: So may the Wind and Sun
“Deal with me, gaining Erin's crown, if, ere a year have run
“Its seasonable course complete, I leave within the pale
“Of the four brine-exhaling seas that compass Innisfail
“One of these proud curse-fulminers! What though with specious shows
“Of love aud charity they come; yet see the fate of those

“Who first were here their chiefest friends: Murkertach, son of Erc,
“For all his base compliances, pursued with curses dark
“By his own paid familiar priest, till, plunged in butt of wine,
“He drowned, to give the ban effect, at Sletty on the Boyne.
“Lewy Mac Laery, son to him who first gave Patrick room,
“While yet an unborn harmless babe, cursed in his mother's womb;
“Then by priest-imprecated fire struck on the hateful hill
“Of Achadarcha; thus with mulcts and maledictions still
“Repaying us our slavish fears; if but the smallest jot
“Of blind obedience be denied,—commendable or not,
“Righteous or not, the thing commanded:—but this King
“His ready acquiescent ‘yea’ concedes to anything
“So they support his tyrannous power. Now, therefore, here at length
“His time has come, to put in ure this so-much boasted strength
“Of these his Cursers: for methinks but few around me here
“Will hold his hand from hearty blows, at Moyra, out of fear
“For such as they; after our march this morning undismayed
“Through all their phantasms. For, unless he bring the power in aid
“Of God himself, which he can not; God being just, and he
“Most unjust; we have now to fear no greater enemy
“Than these weak ghosts, which, having in vain spent all their spiteful force,
“Leave us at large to prosecute our unembarrassed course,

“Free as the eagle; which, indeed, when he has stooped to prey
“His quarry in a hollow vale, at first must must make his way
“With gyres contracted twixt the hills; till to a level run
“With his horizon; but he then soars straightway at the Sun:
“Or as a seaman, being embayed, heaves oft his swerving boom
“Starboard and larboard; then at last, having attained sea-room,
“Lies his straight course, with keel direct cutting the ocean vast,
“While sun and rain, and wind and tide, and day and night flit past:
“So, flitting past our constant march, let these weak shades troop on:
“We, to our own hearts' level arisen; we, Doubt's last headlands gone,
“Launched on our main-sea enterprise, go forth with steadfast mind,
“Nor turn a wavering look aside, nor cast a glance behind,
“While God betwixt us and our foes, impartial, leaves the event:
“For no man can contend with God, He being omnipotent;
“But far removed from human strife, leaves to the daring man
“By force of valour to achieve such conquest as he can,
“Whether o'er other mortal men less valiant; or o'er those
“Inferior demons of the air. 'Tis through such overthrows,
“Given in just quarrel, comes renown a man no other way
“Can compass; for such conqueror the Bard's heroic lay
“Gives perpetuity of fame: the Statue-smith for him
“To forms of glory consecrates each marble-moulded limb:
“For him, when on his nation's behalf he rises up to speak,
“The council of the wise sit hushed: for him young Beauty's cheek

“Glows with the rose: all lips disclose their smiles for him whose arm
“Protects all life's delights for all: to him in war's alarm,
“As to the husband of the State, the trembling mothers run,
“Holding their little ones: to him each generous-nurtured son
“Hurries instinctive; as at sea when tempests overwhelm
“Faint hearts with horror in the hold, then chiefly round the helm
“Gather brave seamen. But the man whose sullen breast, exempt
“From generous impulse, prompts him forth upon no brave attempt,
“Lives sordidly and dies despised. He dares no stormy sea,
“Outflying Honor upon the wings of wintry tempests; he
“Smiles at no spiteful impotent trick malicious Fortune plays;
“Follows no friend with loyal steps through ghost-prohibited ways;
“Burns with no emulous thirst of fame, when glowing tongues declare
“Brave aspirations; as ye now, oh friends, stand burning there.—
“For lo, I see on all your cheeks the blush of manly shame;
“Lo, now I see in all your eyes the generous sparkling flame,
“Presage of conquest. Lo, the path to Moyra, where the foe
“Waits us, lies open. Forward, sons of Rury; forward, ho!
“Grandsons of Woden; clans of Hû; before us lies renown,
“Safety and strength and native laws; revenge, and Erin's crown.”

He said: and while with shouts on shouts the echoing heavens were rent,
The mighty hosts with courage renewed, all with a one consent

Moved onward. As a great black barque, compact of many a tree,
That, on her launch from some high beach, shoots down at once to sea;
Or like as when, in time of thaw, a snow-drift deep and wide,
By strong winds in a hollow place lodged on a mountain side,
Fetches away with loosening crash; or like as when, a cloud
Lumbering the sky, strong winds arise, and all the aerial crowd
Fall on at once; it bulges, bursts, rolls out, and overspreads
The face of heaven with ominous gloom above amazed men's heads;
So ominously, so all at once, with clash and muttering jar,
Swift, dark, on Moyra's fated field rolled down the cloud of war.

BOOK IV.

Sudden as wild-drake from his reeds beside the sedgy Bann,
Forth from his rushy covert flew swift-watchful Garrad Gann,
Scout of the North; nor turned aside for dyke or mearing-mound,
Till, in the gorge of green Glen Ree, the King himself he found
With gathered Erin in his tents, fast camped, beside the fosse
That in the magic days of old the Black Boar scooped across
Orgallia's border: he who now, from dry land banished far,
No longer casts up rampart dykes to stem the tide of war,
But rooting round the island rocks where Brecan's cauldrons boil,
Turns up the ridgy-rolling sea with ever-fruitless toil;
For fast as still with furrowing tusk he grooves the wave, so fast
The fluent-rising wave forbids to champ the illusive mast.

Said Garrad, “King, Clan-Congail comes: I saw Magabra's height
“At sunset flaming with his spears; and all the woods in sight,
“Far as the lake-reflected light their passes gave to view,
“With arms and standards sparkling bright, and war-cars thronging through.”

“What standards show they?” said the King, “and in what order, say,
“Does my unhappy foster-son his impious aids array?”

Said Garrad, “On his battle's right the standards were to see
“Of Alba's hosts in all the fields of frighted Aghalee;
“While Lochlan's ravens, birds accurst in many a widow's dirge,
“Flapped o'er his far-extended left to green Kilultagh's verge.
“The ensigns of his middle front shone bright with silken sheen;
“White, swarmed with golden bees, they were; and men of warlike mien
“Long-hair'd and blue-eyed, marched beneath. Once, when I sailed beyond
“The Ictian sea, and saw, on march, the sons of Pharamond,
“('Twas on the Catalaunian plain, in dusty war-cloud rolled,
“They passed me as I rode the route King Dathi took of old),
“Such seemed the ensigns, and such seemed the fair, bee-blazon'd ranks:
“Wherefore I deem the centre-front of Congal's host are Franks;
“Yet little-trusted, as I judge; for close behind them came,
“Led by a lofty chief whose locks shone red as bickering flame,
“The fierce, sharp-vengeful, savage men of Britain; and again
“Behind the Britons, over all, Ulster and Congal Claen.”

Said Domnal, “While I live and reign, it never shall be said
“The hosts of Erin, with the King of Erin at their head,

“Sat in the shelter of a camp, or shunned the open ground,
“While foreign foe or rebel King within the realm was found.
“And since on Moyra openly their hosts encamp to-night,
“On Moyra openly at dawn shall Erin give them fight.”

Whereon throughout the expectant camp's four quarters, Domnal sped
The welcome word to arm and march; and soon the measured tread
Of tramping legions told there passed by moor and quaking fen,
From Domnal's camp to Lagan bank, thrice twenty thousand men.

Arrived on Moyra's southern verge, beneath the stars they lay,
Wrapped in their warrior cloaks, till morn advanced her ensigns grey.

Dawn-early, Domnal,—offering done,—athwart the dusky glade
In long-drawn battle, east and west, the royal host arrayed.
And this the order of the line. To left of all the field,
Fast flanked by forest and by fen, as by a natural shield,
Connacia kept the western wing: thence, stretching to the right,
The many-legioned Leinster hosts prolonged the beam of fight
To where, in midmost place of all, a plashed impervious wood
Embattled thick around himself, Meath's household phalanx stood.
Lea-Moha next in order fair took up the spiky line,
And bore it with a bristling edge to where your battle-sign,
Renowned Clan-Colla, flaunted high above the eastern wing:
Here, on the wide unsheltered wold, the careful-valiant King

In mutual-succouring order close his Northern strength arrayed;
First, Kindred-Owen; Orgiall next; to take or tender aid
When needful; and beyond them both, as valour's meet reward,
You, clans of Conal, of them all the glory and the guard.

The hosts embattled, Domnal now, drawn in the royal car,
An Animating-Progress made down all the front of war;
And first Connacia's host he spoke,

“Descendants of the brave
“Who from Ultonia once before, with cattle-plundering Maev,
“Bore spoil immense and deathless fame; to you, of all the host,
“Is given the hero-coveted, much-envied, outmost post
“Of all the field. Maintain it well. My presence shall impart
“The conscious might of lawful power to every arm and heart.
“For wondrous is the might that clothes a true king's countenance,
“In life or death. Remember how, when through the fields of France
“Your sires the thunder-blackened limbs of glorious Dathi bore,
“No shelter from the Gauls' pursuit had they, from Alp to shore,
“But the dread visage of the King turned backward as they fled;
“Yet safely sped they through them all, home, with their mighty dead.
“Third in descent again from whom, your Monarch, Owen Bel,
“Tomb'd, armed and facing to the foe, even as in fight he fell,
“Upon the Sligo's southern bank, throughout a year and day,
“By mere enchantment of his gaze, kept all the North at bay:

“Nor could their bravest cross the fords so overlooked, until
“They stole King Owen from his cairn, and northward by Loch Gill
“Tomb'd him, face-downward; from which time the disenchanted fords
“Are won or lost, as greater might or less impels your swords.
“But here, with better auspices, you keep the battle-wing,
“To-day, in presence of a crowned and lawful living King.”

The Crohan warriors, pleased to hear North-nurtured Domnal learned
In legends of the distant West, a glorying shout returned.

Next where Hy-Mainy's haughty ranks, 'neath Grellan's staff arrayed,
Stood ruddy in the reddening morn, the King his chariot stayed.

“Brave youths,” said Domnal, “what although the breadth of Erin lies
“Between us and the splendid seats which under western skies
“Ye wrested, by Saint Grellan's aid, from Bolgic hordes of yore,
“Ere Morne's and Colla's names were merged in name of Mainy Mor?
“Yet neither lapse of time nor tract of distance can efface
“From Ulster's breast the glorious name of Cradle of your Race.
“Lo, yonder see the mountains blue, to whose recesses borne
“Your tide of overteeming life flowed out from full Cremorne,
“Ere yet lean Dartry's plenteous loins that mightier swarm sent forth
“To plant beyond smooth Shannon's flood the manhood of the North;

“Whence now returned, by many a plain and many a waving wood,
“As sea-run salmon that at last ascend the parent flood,
“All other bays and forelands pass'd, in needful hour ye come
“Exulting in your strength, to strike for kindred and for home.
“But exhortation none of mine need ye to whet the swords
“Oft edged to victory before by better-spoken words—
“‘Mighty men, sons of Mainy,
“‘By the Staff and its wonders
“‘Ye bear for your banner,
“‘By the Crozier of Grellan
“‘Hy-Mainy's sole Standard;
“‘That wand at whose waving
“‘The flower of the Firvolg,
“‘Of old on Moy-Liagh,
“‘For their falsehood sank swallowed,
“‘Thirty hundred together,
“‘In a moment, without remnant,
“‘In the maw of the Moy:
“‘By your taxes, by your tributes,
“‘By your freely-offered firstlings
“‘On the door-sills of Kilcloony:
“By Grellan's own warrant,
“Saying ‘surely while ye pay me
“‘My taxes and my tributes,

“‘And exalt me my Crozier,
“‘God and I will give you conquest,’
“Now remember ye the manhood of the days of Mainy Mor.”

Then all the pleased Hy-Manian host with loud and proud acclaim
Shouted; and Domnal to the front of Leinster's legions came.

“Lagenians of the palm-broad spears,” the Monarch said, “and ye
“Fair-tunic'd warriors of Leix and festive Ossory,
“From you, in manhood's joyous prime, my gentle spouse I chose;
“To you, in age, I now assign the guardianship of those
“Five war-accomplished youths, our sons, whom 'mid your ranks enrolled,
“In duty's place, with proud delight I even now behold.
“My Fergus fair; my Angus dear; my Erril Open-Hand;
“My Carril, and my Colgu gay. Be ye a rallying band
“Impervious round the youths beloved; that, when our work is done,
“The anxious mother may again embrace each princely son.”

Proud Leinster closer round the youths arrayed her spear-thick hedge;
And warranted with warrior oaths the safety of the pledge.

Next with the allied Firvolg ranks, where 'mid the florid Gael
They darkly showed, King Domnal stayed, and bade the slim ones hail.

“Clans of the Martin unsubdued; sole remnants of your race
“Who, 'mid the elsewhere conquering Gael, retain your ancient place;

“Think not I deem you strangers come to render service due
“To stranger masters: no, ye come as willing kinsmen true
“To aid your kindly cousin Scots against the alien throng
“Of Lochlan and the Gentile Gauls. The sacred Poet's song
“And learned Historian's tale agree, that from one parent stem,
“Scyth, Agathyrs and Gelon sprang; and sprung direct from them
“The Scot, the Pict, and Bolgmen come; who, in their several turns,
“To Erin came; and you the first, escaped the galling scorns
“Of Thracian tyrants, and the toil immense in leathern bags
“Of carrying soil to fertilise the terraced mountain crags;
“And here, through full a thousand years of freedom and of fame,
“Nought of your former servile state remembered but the name,
“You've held the lands that still ye hold, and proved superior still
“In every art of elegance and work of graceful skill;
“For which old patrimonial lands, and for the homes made bright
“By these hereditary arts, we stand to-day in fight,
“Firvolg and Gael in one accord; all Erin in a band
“Against the robbers of the sea and traitors of the land.”

The light of darkly-kindling eyes and fervid faces glanced
Down all the beaming Bolgic line, while Domnal next advanced
To speak the household Meathian troops.

“Ye men of Meath,” said he,
“Are witness that this day's debate has not been sought by me.

“Whate'er a King with honor might, I offered Congal Claen;
“And offered oft; which he, as oft, rejected with disdain,
“Demanding crowns and kingdoms back which have not, since the days
“Of the three Collas, appertained to any of his race.
“Three hundred years and three and one, it is, since, at the date
“Three hundred-thirty-three from Christ, these three laid desolate
“Emania, Ulster's royal seat till then, and over-ran
“All that Clan Rury theretofore to westward of the Bann
“And southward of the Yewry held; from which time hitherto
“Ultonia's bounds embrace no more than at this day they do,
“From Mourne to Rathlin: small the tract: yet in that little space
“Ambition how exorbitant, how huge a pride has place!
“And from Clan-Colla, in their turn, a hundred years have flown,
“Since Earca's son, Murkertach, won Tyrconnell and Tyrone;
“O'er which Rudrician ne'er shall reign. So nothing at our hands
“Remains to give King Congal but the battle he demands.”

“Battle for battle! Spear for spear!” from thousand throats upflew
The voice of fight-accepting Meath. The Monarch, in review,
Thence passed along Lea Moha's line.

“Sons of the South,” he said;
“Thus far beneath our Northern stars with fearless steps ye tread,
“Remembering, as beseems your race, the olden glorious days
“When Curoi and his Ernaan Knights divided Erin's praise

“With all our bravest of the Branch. On Cahir-Conroi's crest
“The hero from his tomb looks down where 'neath the glowing west
“The strand of Ventry shines at eve: again the hollow roar
“Of trampling tides is in his ears: locked on the level floor
“The glorious wrestlers stamp the sands: let come the waves: let burst
“All ocean downward on their heads: none parts his hold, till first
“He casts the invader to his feet. The invading galleys ride
“Regardant on the heaving blue, behind the white-maned tide:
“The white-maned, proud-neck-arching tide leaps to their feet; it leaps
“Around their arms; it leaps with might above expiring heaps
“Of Gauls and Gaels in mutual clasp washed o'er the wreck-strewn sands,
“Where drowned they rather than desert their first defensive stands.
“Such heroes hath Momonia nursed; Momonia's sacred shore
“By you defended, grates beneath invading keels no more:
“But, driven from hero-guarded coasts, our new invaders swarm
“In Ulster's unprotected ports: yet, even here, thine arm,
“Momonia, reaching all the length of Erin through, shall draw
“Mac Daire's blade again, and make a Ventry at Moy-rah.”

Well pleased, Momonia's warriors heard the Monarch's flattering words;
And Domnal to Clan-Colla came.

“Kinsmen, illustrious lords

“Of Orgiall,” said he: “since the day our three forefathers stood
“In Tara's wine-hall, to provoke to shedding of their blood
“King Muredach (for, 'mongst the four, whiche'er should first be slain,
“With his posterity the crown was destined to remain);
“No day has risen so full of need for Eochaid Domlan's race
“As this which now above our heads begins to rise apace.
“In Tara's wine-hall, 'mid his guards, they came before the throne,
“Unbid, from Alba: in their train nine haggard men alone,
“Survivors of three hundred youths condemned in bleak Cantyre
“To expiate the secret stroke that slew the Monarch's sire.
“Amid their snows the vision came, at midnight, in their tent;
“To each the same it seemed; and said, ‘Up; hence, incontinent:
“‘Seek ye the son of him ye slew, at Tara, where a crown
“‘Waits the first self-devoting hand will pluck the peril down’
“Back sped the three through sleet and spray; nor stretched they side until
“They stood upon the wine-hall floor of Tara's royal hill.
“‘What tidings, now, from Alba, sirs?’ exclaimed the wondering King:
“Said Colla Uais, ‘King Muredach, the tidings that I bring
“‘Are these: this hand it was did slay thy father; and this head,
“‘As good as his, is here to take in eric for the dead.’
“Said Coll da-Cree, ‘This hand it was did aid my brother dear
“‘To take thy father's head; and, see, a better head is here.’

“Said Colla Menn, ‘Behold the head, best of the three, that plann'd
“‘The work of slaughter well achieved by either brother's hand:’
“And nearer pressed, to court the stroke: but Muredach withdrew
“His hand approaching to the hilt; for on his memory grew
“Remembrance clear of what the seer in visioned trance had said,
“That 'mongst four cousins, in that hall, who first should lose his head,
“His childrens' should the crown remain: wherefore his hand he stayed,
“And answered, ‘This magnanimous avowal ye have made
“‘Atones for all. Behold, the North,—where rude Clan Rury's lords
“‘Revolt against my lawful rents,—lies open to your swords.
“‘Win there a kingdom for yourselves, where'er ye will and can,
“‘From proud Emania to the sea; from Farsad to the Bann;
“‘Myself shall furnish forth a host.’ Said Colla Uais, ‘Our laws
“‘Forbid that, even to gain a crown, we war without a cause.’
“‘And is it not, then, cause enough, or have ye never heard,’
“Said Muredach, ‘how Black-Tooth's slave did singe thy grandsire's beard
“‘In this same hall? Still unavenged that insult.’ ‘'Twill suffice,’
“Said Colla Uais. ‘In conquest's case needs never reason nice.’
“And so, exchanging issues dark of doubtful prophecy
“For even chance of open war, with Tara's host, the Three
“Invaded Ulster that same year; and, ere the year was spent,
“In green Cremorne sat Coll da-Cree, a prince magnificent.

“Great lords from all their loins have sprung; Kings from the loins of some,
“And other mightier monarchs thence are destined yet to come:
“Yea, though perchance in after days forgetful of their stem,
“The rulers of the Western world shall draw their race from them.
“And thou, Malodhar, eldest born and noblest of them all,
“This day must hold or lose the lands so won by mighty Coll:
“For, other cause of enmity proud Congal Claen has none
“Than this, that I refuse to strip Clan-Colla of its own;
“And have confirmed, and do hereby, as far as in me lies,
“Confirm Malodhar of Armagh in all the seignories
“Won by his sires, as I have told. And, Ultan Long-Hand, thou
“Who rulest Orior, his sub-King, yea, all who hear me now,
“Remember, that not mine alone the fortune, that endures
“Or passes with this day's event, but his, and thine, and yours.”

“King,” said Malodhar, “have no fear: the voice of Fate that gave
“The Collas in Cantyre their call to cross the wintry wave,
“To thee alike assigns the realm of Erin, and to me
“Orgallia's rule subordinate, in perpetuity.
“Nor other change will Erin feel from Congal's mad essay
“That this, belike, that Orgiall's bounds, meared by Glen Ree to-day,
“May march to-morrow with the sea; for so the license ran,
“‘From proud Emania to the sea; from Farsad to the Bann.’”

“Conquer thy wish;” discreetly said the prudent King, aloud.
But also said, “This under-King is somewhat over-proud.”

So pondering, to the Kinel-Owen, his own familiar clan,
He came, and, still his ancient lore recalling, thus began:

“Twin branches of one stately stem are Conal's race and yours,
“Children of Owen; at one birth our great progenitors
“Owen and Conal Gulban, sons of many-hostaged Neal,
“Sprang from one womb: one blessing both of holy Patrick's zeal
“Had in one cradle: equal power through Erin far and wide
“By blessed Kearnach, from one bed, for both was prophesied;
“When to their hands the dying saint confided Patrick's Bell
“And Columb's Gospels; charging them, as oft as it befell
“That either martial tribe should stand in combat's ordered line,
“That Bell or Book should ever be its proper battle-sign.
“And promised, oft as either host, arrayed as now ye are,
“Should muster for defensive fight or just aggressive war,
“The Word of saving Truth with them, the Tongue of Power with you
“Respectively, that victory should all your steps pursue:—
“A prophecy in part fulfilled; in ampler measure still
“Remaining for a riper day of glory to fulfil.
“This present day well nigh brings round an even hundred years
“Since, in his just aggressive war, Murkertach's western spears
“Flashed thro' Clan-Colla's broken bounds, in cantred-covering sweep,
“From Erne to smooth Mayola's meads and proud Ben-Evenagh's steep:

“And so it is; one century, if but to-day's event
“March with the words of prophecy, shall see your tribe's extent
“Meted by mountain, and by sea: for surely never yet
“Was juster war defensive waged than this, wherein, beset
“As deer in hunter's narrowing ring, or ring'd bull at his stake,
“We needs must fight for leave to live, if not for glory's sake.
“Behold, there breathes not on the earth the creature born so base
“But will, to spending of its life, defend its dwelling-place;
“Be it the wolf's leaf-bedded lair, the rook's dark tops of trees,
“Or bare shelf of the barren rock, where, over yeasty seas,
“The artless gull intends her brood; and baser than the beasts
“Were we, if, having to defend our homes of love, our feasts
“Of joyous friendship, our renown, our freedom, and above
“All else, our heavenly heritage of Christ's redeeming love,
“From this rude inroad unprovoked of Gentile robbers, we
“Fought not the fight of valiant men to all extremity;
“As well beseeming those for whom the sacred lay was sung:
“‘Lo, the perverse Pagan remnant
“‘And the God-denying Gentile,
“‘Linked in mischief, would deprive us
“‘Of our hope and of our solace
“‘'Neath the noble tree of shelter
“‘Planted here by holy Patrick.
“‘Would uproot it; lay it prostrate;

“‘And, amid its broken branches,
“‘Re-erect the fanes of demons.
“‘How blind; how unthankful
“‘Are the insolent ungodly!
“‘When they walk with cool footsteps,
“‘In the dews of morn and even,
“‘Mid the tender blade providing
“‘Meat and drink for men in season,
“‘Then laud they their ploughshares,
“‘Then exult they in their oxen;
“‘But their hearts have no refreshment
“‘From the hot airs unwholesome
“‘Of hate and of ambition.
“‘From the felon flood escaping
“‘In their rough-rocking galleys,
“‘They say, ha! strong cordage,
“‘Brave mast, and good anchor:
“‘But they deem not He who keepeth
“‘The wind in His palm-hollow
“‘Hears their boasting, and abhors them.
“‘But God shall the proud ones,
“‘The rebellious, the unfaithful,
“‘Behold with derision
“‘In the dark hour tremendous

“‘Of death and of departure;
“‘When, mad with blank horror,
“‘They sink, they know not whither,
“‘Dizzy down into perdition.’
“Up, God! and let the foes of God, and them that hate him, fly:
“As wax consumes within the fire, as smoke within the sky,
“So let them melt and perish quite: but he who loves Thy laws
“His head in battle cover Thou, and vindicate his cause.”

“Amen,” Cloc-Patrick's clerks replied; and clear above the swell
Of thousand hoarse-applauding throats, was heard the Standard-Bell.

Last to his own illustrious tribe, though first in power and fame,
In danger's gap, to right of all the embattled hosts, he came.

“Kinsmen,” he said, “to other tribes I've offered, on my way,
“Words of incitement to renown; as fitting for the day
“Just rising on so great a strife as, since the days of Con
“The Hundred-Battled, morning sun has never looked upon.
“But from these hortative harangues,—since vain were the attempt
“To add to valour infinite,—Clan-Conail stands exempt.
“For why, what says the noble verse?—
“‘Clan-Conail for the battle
“‘Never needed other prompting
“‘Than the native manly vigor
“‘Of a King-descended people,
“‘Whose own exulting prowess,

“‘Whose own fight-glorying valour,
“‘And old ancestral choler,
“‘And hot blood overboiling,
“‘Are war-goads self-sufficing.
“‘Would'st see them war-excited?
“‘Would'st see the Clans of Enna
“‘Let loose their native fury?
“‘Would'st see the Sons of Conang
“‘How they look in time of slaughter?
“‘Sil-Angus at their spear-sport,
“‘Sil-Fidrach at their sword-play,
“‘Sil-Ninid rout-enforcing,
“‘Sil-Setna panic-pouring?
“‘Set before them then the faces
“‘Of foemen in their places,
“‘With lances levelled ready,
“‘And the battle, grim and bloody,
“‘Coming onward o'er the tramp-resounding plain:
“‘But insult not Conal's nation
“‘With a battle-exhortation
“‘When with battle's self their hands you entertain.’
“And lo, the very valour-rousing sight the Bard prescribes
“Presents itself before our eyes; for yonder Congal's tribes
“Begin to move. Up Book, and march! God and Columba be
“Your wanted warrant that ye march to glorious victory!”

100

And, as when fire by chance has caught a furzy mountain-side,
Behind its bickering front of flame, in blackness swift and wide,
The spreading ruin onward rolls; so down King Domnal's van,
Flashed back from glittering helm and shield, the morning radiance ran;
So, dark hehind their fiery front, in far evolving throng
The enlarging legions spread, and poured their serried strength along.

And as, again, when Lammas floods from echoing uplands go
Down hurrying to the quaking vale that toils in foam below;
So wide, so deep, so terrible, so spreading, swift and vast,
With tempest-tramp from Congal's camp the adverse columns pass'd:
Every phalanx like a castle; every captain, at its head,
Like pillar of a castle-gate, when camping Kings have spread
Their leaguer to the rampart-foot, and pick and broad-axe play
Rebounding on the sounding plank that holds the war at bay.

Ah! many a brave young son was there, to hang on whose broad breast
Was joy to the proud mother; many a brother much caressed
By white-arm'd smiling sisters; many a lover who yet bore
The parting kiss from virgin lips his lips should meet no more;
And sons who stood by fathers' sides, with pious ardour warm,
Each deeming death were well incurred to shield that head from harm,
Blooming in love and manly strength; and many a faithful pair
Of milk-united fosterers and ancient friends was there.

101

Swiftly they cleared the narrowing space of plain ground interposed;
And, bearing each an even front, from wing to wing they closed.
A shudder at the closing shock thrill'd through the grassy plain,
And all the sedgy-sided pools of Lagan sighed again.

In balanced scale, in even fight,—no thought on either side
Of yielding back,—the eager hosts their work of battle plied,
Stern, dark, intense, incessant, as forging smiths that smite
In order on the stithy head through spark-showers hailing white.
And, as when woodsmen to their work, through copse and stubble go,
Grasping the supple red-skinned twigs with darting bill-hooks, so
With frequent grasp and deadly grip plucked from their slippery stand,
They went continual to the earth: the grassy-vestured land,
Stamped into dust, beneath them glowed; the clear fresh morning air
Vexed with the storm of whirling arms, and tossing heads and hair,
Around them reeked; while, overhead, in dense unwholesome pall,
A sweat-and-blood-engendered mist rose steaming over all.

Dire was the front-rank warriors' case; nor, in their deadly need,
Did son of father longer think, or friend of friend take heed;
But each deemed all the strength and skill his prowess could command
But scant enough to serve the need that claimed his proper hand;
Fresh hands with deadlier-wielded blades, new foes with angrier frown,
Succeeding ceaseless in the front, fast as the old went down.

Fed from behind the ranks renewed: from these continual fed
The intermediate heaps increased. Still no man turned or fled

102

Till on the Dalaradian King, unhappy Sweeny, fell
The terrors of a dreadful fate, in manner strange to tell.

To Sweeny, as the hosts drew near, ere yet the fight should join,
Seemed still as if between them rolled the foam-strown tawny Boyne:
And as the swiftly-nearing hosts consumed the narrowing space,
And arrow-flights and javelin-casts and sword-strokes came in place,
Through all the rout of high-raised hands and wrathful glaring eyes,
Erc's look of wrath and lifted hand before him seemed to rise;
Through all the hard-rebounding din from breasts of Gaels and Gauls,
That jarred against the vault of heaven, when clashed the brazen walls,
Through all the clangorous battle-calls and death-shouts hoarse and high,
Erc's shriller curse he seemed to hear and Erc's despairing cry.
Much did the hapless warrior strive to shake from breast and brain
The illusion and the shameful wish fast rising, but in vain;
The wish to fly seized all his limbs; the stronger dread of shame
Contending with the wish to fly, made spoil of all his frame.
His knees beneath him wavered, as if shaken by the stress
Of a rapid-running river: his heart, in fear's excess,
Sprang to and fro within him, as a wild bird newly-caged,
Or a stream-ascending salmon in a strong weir's trap engaged.
Room for escape the field had none: and Sweeny there had died
Perforce in front; his shame unknown; his name a word of pride
To all his race, for many a feat of valour nobly done,
And much renown from conquered Chiefs in former battles won;

103

But that the terror in his soul at length to madness grew,
And, with a maniac's strength of ten, he burst the rere rank through,
And fled in presence of both hosts.

So light and swift he ran,
It seemed as if exalting fear had left, of all the man,
Only the empty outward show. Then many cried to slay
The flying Chief; but Ardan stood between:

“Insane ones, stay
“Your idle impious shafts,” he cried; “no coward's flight is here;
“But sacred frenzy sent from Heaven. The wings of vulgar fear
“Ne'er lifted weight-sustaining feet along the airy ways
“In leaps like these: but ecstasies there be of soul, that raise
“Men's bodies out of Earth's constraint; and, so exalted, he
“Acquires the sacred Omad's name, and gains immunity
“From every earthly violence. 'Twas thus Wood Merlin gained
“His seership on Arderidd field: else Britain had remained
“Still unenriched of half her lore. So, turn you, and engage
“Your spears where men who fly you not, await your juster rage.”

So Ardan counselled; and the line of battle stood renewed,
While Sweeny o'er the distant plain his lonely flight pursued,
Noiseless, as flits, at daylight-gone, the level-coasting crane.

Meantime, on Moyra, shout and clang of battle rose again,
As, singling from the vulgar sort, the chiefs of note began
In feats of separate hardihood, to mingle in the van.

104

And first the royal sons who led the allied Alban host,
Despite the strength of circling quags and Dathi's guardian ghost,
Thrice on Connacia's line of fight, four island ospreys flew,
And twice and thrice with grasp of might broke Grellan's staff in two.
But at their third swift-swooping charge, where Leinster stood arrayed
Beneath her four Provincial Kings, their course was rudely stayed.
Which four illustrious Kings who led the Broad-spear ranks, were these;
First, Cairbre Crom, the wealthy lord of tunic-bleaching Leix;
Next, haughty Aulay of the Ships, who exercised his rule
Where hurdle-causeways span the mire of Liffey's dusky pool;
Argnadach next, whose grassy dun o'er green Hy-Drone presides
Where bright by brown Bahana wood the fishful Barrow glides;
And lastly Ailill, hapless lord of wide domains, for whom
Hy-Faily's serfs no more need till the sunny slopes of Bloom.
These four before the Albanian four their armoured breasts opposed,
And straight the eight in fell debate, for life and glory, closed.

But valiant though these Leinster Kings, and war-accomplished too,
'Twas not for them the royal hope of Alba to subdue,
Who oft had trained adventurous arms on Saxon and on Gaul,
With brass-hook'd halbard oft had plucked the Briton from his wall;
And oft, twixt beetling brow above and slippery brink below,
Had wrestled with the Fortren Pict, knee-deep in Grampian snow.
Argnadach, first, beneath the spear of Aed Green-Mantle died;
Tall Ailill next lay stretched in death, by Sweeny, at his side;

105

To Domnal of the Freckled Brow imperious Aulay then
Resigned his head; and Cairbre Crom succumbed to Congal Menn.

When Domnal's own illustrious sons beheld the carnage made
Of Leinster's leaders, to the front they also sprang in aid:
Fergus and Angus side by side; young Errill Open-Hand,
Carril and Colgu; five to four: the war-flushed conquering band
Of Alban brothers, four to five, as loud the Princes cried
“Sons of the King of Erin here,” with louder shout replied,
“Sons here of Alba's mightier King, to match them, man to man.”
And, three at once selecting three, an equal strife began;
Equal in youth; in royal birth, in eager warlike will,
Equal; and in the athlete's art and warrior's deadly skill,
Alas! too equal; for, ere long, by many a mutual wound,
Each slain by each, three princely pairs pressed all the equal ground.
But Domnal Brec, by Carril and by Colgu both assailed,
Although 'gainst either single foe he had in fight prevailed,
Withstood not their conjoint attack: but, casting down his shield,
Said, “Cousins, I claim benefit of gossipred, and yield.”
So, leaving there the princely six stretched 'mongst the common dead,
Carril and Colgu to the King their Alban captive led.
Then thus the captive Domnal said,

“Oh King, these youthful sons
“Have done me warrior-wrong in both assailing me at once;

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“Which is no deed of princely-nurtured youths: and therefore, I
“Am put to plea of fosterage and consanguinity;
“Shewing unto your Clemency, my father Eochaid Buie
“Was foster-son of Columb-Kill, the son of Felimy,
“The cousin of thy father Aed: wherefore, oh King, I claim
“Safety and ransom at thy hands in holy Columb's name.”

“And in that venerable name,” said Domnal—and he crossed
His breast devoutly as he spoke,—“thy suit shall not be lost:
“For precious-sweet at every time the ties of nurture are,
“But most so when they mitigate, as now, the woes of war:
“Woes which beseems not that a King in battle-armour dressed
“Should further speak of, here a-field. But Thou who seest my breast,
“Thou knowest, oh God, how sharper far than foe's dividing brand—
“My Fergus fair; my Angus dear; my Erril Open-Hand!—
“Are this day's pangs of death and shame. But, Kinsman, for thy share,
“A goshawk for a captured King, subdued in fight impair,
“Shall answer all the ransomer's need. And, for the wrong thee done,
“Thou shalt, in duel, have amends; if either culprit son
“Escape the labour of to-day.”

And therefore so it was
That Freckled Domnal, set at large, for the abovesaid cause,
Which neither Prince might contravene, though for the issue loth,
In equal single combat had the conquest of them both;

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Yet neither slew; but gave their lives in barter of his own:
Which Freckled Domnal afterwards sat on the Alban throne,
A famous sovereign: and his race in Yellow Eochaid's hall
Reigned after him; till Selvach, son of Fercar, named the Tall,
To proud Dunolly's new-built burg transferred the royal chair.
('Twas in his time Columba's Clerks, because they would not bare
The head-top to the tonsuring shears of Ceolfrid, neither count
Their Easters by the Roman moons, were sent beyond the Mount
By Necton and his Fortren Picts; when, in the Gael's despite,
His Saxon builders, from the Tyne, brought North the general rite.)
And after Selvach, once again to shift the wandering throne,
Came conquering Kenneth Alpinson, the first who sat at Scone,
Full King of Scotland, Gael and Pict; whose seat to-day we see
A third time moved, there permanent and glorious to be,
Where, in Westminster's sacred aisles, the Three-Joined-Realm awards
Its meed of solemn sepulture to Captains and to Bards;
And to the hands pre-designate of awful right, confides
The Sceptre that confers the sway o'er half of ocean's sides.
But Domnal's brothers in one grave on Irish Moyra lie;
And to this day the place from them is called Cairn-Albany.
The hardy Saxon little recks what bones beneath decay,
But sees the cross-signed pillar stone, and turns his plough away.

So on the battle's western verge the doubtful strife was waged:
Meantime, upon King Congal's left, the Frankish host engaged

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Clan-Conail; and Clan-Conail marched o'er prostrate Franks, until
They pressed the battle to the plain beneath the very hill
Where ranked the warrior-hosts of Mourne. Halt Kellach in his chair
Placed on the summit of the slope, sat 'midst his bravest there:
And, as a hunter, having his dogs leashed on a rising ground,
A tall stag drinking in the vale, slips swift hound after hound;
Or as a man who practises against a mark, hurls forth
Dart after dart; or as a youth whose time is little worth,
Goat-herd or poet idly bent, from some bald sea-cliff's crown
Dislodges fragments of the rock, to send them rolling down,
And claps his hands to see them leap, as, gathering speed, they go
With high whirls smoking to the foot; with such fierce rapture so
Son after son the Halt one sent, and smoking charge on charge
Hurled down from Augnafoskar's brow against the glittering marge
Of levelled spear and burnished targe that, 'mid the throng below,
Marked where Clan-Conail's front advanced o'er Frankland's overthrow.
But neither swift Cu-Carmoda, for all his greyhound spring,
Nor headlong Anlach hurling down with force of javelin-fling,
Nor Brasil bounding from his bank with crash of whirling crag
Could bend the steadfast beam of fight stretch'd out beneath thy flag,
Oh son of Baedan; but, as dogs entangled 'mong the brakes,
Or mark-short darts that by the butts uplift their quivering stakes,
Or rolling rocks that at the foot break into pieces small,
So clung, transfixed; so, sounding, broke against that brazen wall

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Charge after charge. But as a pack of curled waves clamouring on
Divide and ride to either side, resurging, round a stone
That makes the tide-mark; or as storms, rebounding from the breast
Of some impassive mountain huge, go raving forth in quest
Of things prehensible, broad oaks, or wide-eaved homes of men,
To wreak their wrath on; bellowing forth from every hollow glen
That girds the mighty mountain foot, they on the open vale
Issue tremendous: groan the woods: the trembling mothers pale
Beneath their straining rafters crouch, or, driven from hut and hall,
Hie to the covert of some rock or rock-built castle wall:
So Brasil's battle, burst in twain against the steadfast face
Of Kinel-Conail, still pursued, oblique, its headlong race
Past the impenetrable ranks; and, swift as winter wind,
Fell thundering down the lanes of death, on Orgiall's host behind.
Clan-Colla split before the shock: Clan-Brassilagh poured in;
And dire confusion filled the plain, and dreadful grew the din.

Grief and great heat of anger filled the breast of Congal Claen
When tidings reached him that the sons of Eochaid Buie were slain.
Till now, with Conan by his side, the King had, from his car,
Ordained the onsets of the hosts, and overseen the war.
Now, “Conan, noble friend,” he said, “whate'er at either's hand
“The duty of a field-arraying sovereign can demand
“We see accomplished; and the time is come when thou and I
“Are free to feed our proper souls with war's satiety;

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“Thou to achieve increase of fame amid the warlike throng,
“And I to sate enormous hate bred by a life of wrong.
“Lo, where the generous Alban chiefs, who, for the love they bore
“Me, hapless wretch, left all they loved on lone Loch Etive's shore,
“Lie wrapped in death or deadlier bonds. There lies the path for thee
“To reinstate our battle's right; and fame and fortune be
“Attendant with thee. Leave to me this Northern robber horde
“Whose march insulting on our left needs some robuster sword
“Than aged Kellach's: he, I judge, will not long sit at ease,
“Unless with some impediment of weightier mould than these
“I bar the access to his chair. Farewell a while; and now
“For vengeance I and destiny; for fame and friendship thou.”

As lightning that divides a bolt forkwise in upper air,
To left and right, from Congal's car, forth sprang the glittering pair.
First on Connacia's shaken ranks impetuous Conan flew.
Four chiefs in turn engaged him there. All these the hero slew;
And the lopp'd head of each in turn took from the collar'd neck;
Sweeny, to wit; Aed Alen, Aed Buie and Eccad Brec;
In rough Tir-Eera Sweeny ruled, the son of Carrach he;
Aed Alen in Moy-Eola; in Hy-Mainy, Aed the Buie;
In castled Leyny, Eccad Brec. These Conan Rodd subdued;
And Welshmen, with him, of the rest a mighty multitude.

Meanwhile the main Britannic host 'neath Conan Finn arrayed,
Who, midmost, fought the men of Meath, much missed true Conan's aid.

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He of the Gates of Heart of Oak had freely, as became
One who in Congal's choice of Kings the second place might claim,
Followed his glorious judge to war; and now with loyal heart
Matched against Kellach Mor performed a valiant warrior's part.

Son of Malcova, erewhile King, was Kellach: nephew so
Of Domnal; and of all who came to Congal's overthrow,
Conall Mac-Baedan sole except, in prowess and renown
Foremost; and destined afterwards, himself, to wear the crown.
With him contended Conan Finn: but Kellach lopped his head,
And cast it to his shouting friends: then mingled rage and dread
Fell on the thick-Welsh-speaking host; and forth in reckless rage
Three cousins of the vanquished chief sprang, eager to engage
The victor; Howel, Arthur, Rees; together forth they sprung
And with three far-exulting leaps their spears together flung;
And with three mutual-echoing shouts their blades together drew:
But Kellach from the collared necks of these three sons of Hû
Took their respective glittering spoils, and, holding up the same,
Said, “Who will stake another cast upon the noble game?”

There marched that day 'mong Congal's host a valiant-hearted man,
But little-bodied, Fermorc Becc: he, standing in the van,
Beheld his allies' fate, and heard the conqueror's taunting call,
And said,

“Although thou be the Great, and though I be the Small,

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“Yet have I seen it so befall, oh Kellach, that, at play,
“The puniest piece upon the board has borne the prize away:
“And for that glorious prize, thy head—and I shall lay it low
“Right soon,—I play this cast, and stake my life upon the throw.”

He played his spear-cast manfully; no man of all the host
Could but admire: but, gamesomely, the prize he played for, lost.
Then many hearts beat thick, and tears from some stern eyes there broke
At seeing dauntless Fermorc stand to bide the answering stroke.
But generous Kellach, with a smile, reversed his lifted spear,
And 'mid the laughter of the hosts pushed Fermorc to the rere.
The soul of Fermorc swelled with shame; and but that eager bands
Of friends all round restrained him, he had on himself laid hands.

Such feats of arms by Conan Rodd and Kellach Mor were done
To right and centre of the field. Meantime the royal son
Of Scallan Broad-Shield, on the left, in gloomy-vengeful wrath,
At head of Ulster, toward the host of Conal held his path.

As when a grampus makes among the ripple-raising shoals
Of landward-coasting ocean-fry, the parted water rolls
Before the plunging dolphin, so the hosts on either side
Fell off from Congal as he came in swiftness and in pride.
On each hand scattering death he went: with sword-strokes some he smote
In handed fight: with javelin-casts he others slew remote;

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Till, 'twixt him and the steadfast front of Conal's host, the plain
Lay unimpeded to his charge save by the fall'n and slain.

Clan-Conail, now lock close your shields, make fast your battle-front;
The might, the might of Ulster comes, and Congal gives the brunt.
And proudly kept thy host their place, oh Conal, till the stroke
Of Congal's own close-wielded mace a bloody passage broke.
Then, though your battle-border long had baffled all his best,
Shield-lock'd and shoulder-riveted, with many a valiant breast
That burned with Northern valour as courageous as his own,
Yet before the face of Congal ye were crushed and overthrown,
Chaff-dispersed and ember-scattered; till the strong fraternal arm
Of Kindred-Owen reached between, and stayed you further harm.

Ill brooked Sil-Setna's generous Chief, young Conal, to behold
The noblest warriors of his race in confluent tumult roll'd
Like sheep to shelter of the fold; and, as fierce Congal closed
His rallying ranks to charge anew the fresh foes interposed,
Strode forth 'twixt gathering host and host, and said, “Behold, I claim
“Safety and single combat, King, and proffer thee the same.”

“Who art thou,” Congal said, “who thus wouldst stay the swelling tide
“Of Ulster's might, to aggrandize a single warrior's pride?”

“The Son of Baedan I,” replied the Chief, “who from thy race
“Wrested Moy Inneray; and who used, once, make my dwelling-place

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“In broad-stoned Aileach; but who now in Conang's halls abide,
“Since Aileach's gate-posts have of late been stained by parricide.”

“No need for further woman's words,” said Congal; and his cheek
Grew shameful red: “Accept the fate thy folly dares to seek.”

So closed their parley; and the hosts kept each its former place;
While they, with deadly-lifted spears, moved through the middle space.

High beat heroic Conal's heart. In every exercise
Of Erin's athletes hitherto his arm had borne the prize.
Of all the fearless footsteps, formed 'twixt cliff and climbing sea,
From dizzy League to Torrey's straits, the fearlessest had he:
And oft, when, on the heaving skiff, mid baffled waves he hung,
Ere up grey Maulin's eyried lofts or Balor's Stairs he sprung;
Oft, when, a-fowling, poised, he swung between the slippery brow
And thundering deep, his soul had longed for danger such as now,
Guerdoned with glory, called him forth, before a nation's eyes,
To strive, in Country's righteous cause, for Fame's eternal prize.

They cast their spears together. Each resounding weapon stood
To socket in the opposing shield; and Congal's point drew blood.
Then forth, to snatch his weapon back, the King of Ulster sprung;
But Conal, with a wrestler's leap, his arms around him flung;
By flank and shoulder taking hold: nor was King Congal slow
With ready-darted hands expert to grapple with his foe,
Shoulder and flank: a moment thus stood either mighty man;
Then, in a gathering heave, their game the athlete pair began,

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With lifts and thrusts impetuous; with swift-reversing pulls,
And solid stands immovable, as young encountering bulls;
And counter-prancing dizzy whirls; till, in the rapid round,
The feet of either hero seemed to leave the circling ground,
Though firm as palace-pillars stood their feet beneath them still;
For neither yet felt any lack of athlete force or skill;
But each deemed victory his own: for Congal, where he stood,
Saw the fast-falling drops that soon would sink the swelling flood
Of Conal's strength; and Conal, still unconscious of the waste,
Invoked his glorious sires, and all his loins with rigour braced;
Son of the son of Nindid, son of Fergus, as he was,
Son of great Conal Gulban;—and he pushed him without pause;—
Son of renowned Nine-Hostager;—and one great heave he gave
Of his whole heroic body, as the sea upheaves a wave,
A long strong-rising wave of nine, that from the wallowing floor
Of ocean, when a storm has ceased, nigh to some beachy shore,
Shows with a sudden black-piled bulk, and swallowing in its sweep
Accumulated water-heaps from all the hollowed deep,
Soars, foams, o'erhangs its glassy gulfs; then, stooping with a roar
Immeasurable of sea-cascades, stuns all the sounding shore:
With such a heave great Conal rose, rushed onward, overhung
His down-bent foe, and to the earth the King of Ulster flung.

As seaweed from the sunken rock the wave's return leaves bare,
From Congal's head unhelmeted forth flew the spreading hair,

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Soiled in the dust. Exulting shouts, and shouts of rage and grief
Rose from the breathless hosts around, as Conal, conquering Chief,
Stood;—so some arch-built buttress stands in bending strength inclined;—
Preparing with his belt of war the captive King to bind.
But Conan Rodd, whom conquering rage had sped from wing to wing,
Drawn by the clamour, from afar beheld the prostrate King.
Unconscious of the truce, that yet had not had lawful end,
He ran, he leaped, as shaft from string, he flew, to save his friend;
And valiant Conal scarce beheld, scarce felt the fatal thrust,
Till his great heart was split in twain, and he too in the dust.

Up started Congal; Conan's arms the reeling warrior raised;
And Conan's shoulder stayed his steps, as, panting and amazed,
He gained his chariot-seat; but while with inspirations deep
He breathed his breast, from 'midst of Meath forth sprung with clanging leap
Great Kellach, King Malcova's son: with rage and noble scorn
Dilating, in the midst he stood, and cried—

“Base Briton, turn.
“From me receive the meed of death that warrior-law decrees
“The impious wretch who violates his combat-guarantees.”

Said Conan, “Though my love could dare the breach of sterner laws
“At friendship's call; this judgment thou dost give without a cause.

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“For nought, in truth, of any pause or parleying truce I knew
“When, newly on the field arrived, to aid my King I flew.
“If for his life a life be due, take thou a warrior's word,
“No freer soul e'er paid a debt more loyally incurred.”

He wrung the hand that Congal reached; their hearts within them burned
With tenderness they might not speak; and to the combat turned.

Conan his cast delivered first. The spear, from Kellach's shield
Glancing oblique, struck socket-deep, innocuous, in the field.
Then Kellach, with a dreadful smile, in towering strides drew near;
And, with the might of both his hands upheaving high his spear,
Smote Conan's buckler in the midst: the brazen bosses flew
Disrupted: but, with sudden sleight, the agile warrior threw
Shield and shield-cumbered spear aside; and Kellach, overborne
By his own force, as sinks an elm from yielding roots uptorn,
Went prone amid the brazen wreck. Three paces back withdrew
Conan, and bared his blade, and said,

“Rise Kellach, and renew
“An equal combat, if thou wilt. I shall not fear in thee
“Defect of generous sonl, or breach of warrior-warranty.”

“Conan, my life is in thy hands,” said Kellach. “Take or give.
“Thou hast in me a foe to death, whilst thou and I shall live.”

Then, spear and buckler laid aside, his sword he slowly bared;
Cast on dead Conal's form, a glance; and stood for fight prepared.

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As when two mastiffs chance to meet upon a public way,
And break their leashes, and engage; their keepers in dismay
Back from the fang-commingling fray on either hand recoil;
So stood the hosts at gaze, while they resumed their deadly toil.

And well might wearied combatant his own dread work forbear
To view the warlike practice of the sword-accomplished pair;
So, timing, with instinctive sway, consenting eye and hand,
They wove the dazzling woof of death 'twixt gleaming brand and brand;
So, mingling their majestic steps in combat's rapid round,
They trod the stately brawls of Mars across the listed ground.
At every strong-delivered stroke Red Conan dealt his foe,
The Welshmen clapped applauding hands; at every answering blow
Heard with the crush of hauberk burst, or shivering helm, the voice
Of Erin, Ulster's host except, went up with cheerful noise.

But, valiant swordsman though he be, the bravest, soon or late,
Must, in his proper time, expect the even stroke of fate:
And slower motions, and a mist of darkness round his brow,
Warned Conan that his stately head to fate should also bow.

When Kellach felt his force abate, and saw his sight was gone,
He yielded back; but darkly still blind Conan battled on,
Till, not, indeed, like lofty elm in leafy time of year,
But like a storm-dismantled mast, that, with its tattered gear,
(The long-tormented keel, at last, heaved by a landward swell
Against the rock,) goes overboard, at Kellach's feet he fell.

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But Kellach took no trophy; for, with dark brows newly helmed,
Congal approached and said,

“Although that hand hath overwhelmed
“My soul with woe; and righteous rage would justify my spear
“In piercing, shieldless, as thou art, and combat-wearied here,
“The author of so huge a grief; yet, for the sake of him
“Whose clear renown no breath of thine shall e'er have power to dim,
“Go, arm thee, and have needful rest: anon, when apt to mate
“With one fresh-breathed and armed as I, return and have thy fate.”

“Congal, I swear I go not hence without my meed of fame,”
Cried Kellach, and seized Conan's crest, to drag him. As the flame
Bursts, at the breath of outer air, through fire-concealing smoke,
So, forth in fiercer blaze anew the wrath of Congal broke;
And at the chief he aimed a stroke had stretched upon the field
War's noblest victim offered yet; but swift, with guardian shield,
Huge Ultan Long-Hand thrust between; and others not a few
From Conal's and Clan-Colla's ranks to aid their champion flew.
The Ultonian warriors, hitherto regardant, as behoved
Just combatants, and clans of Hû that yet no step had moved,
Though seeing him they chiefly loved before their faces slain,
And all the remnant of the Franks at once burst in amain:
Amid the concourse, Congal Claen rushed to a deadly close
With Ultan, and o'er all the plain enormous tumult rose.

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BOOK V.

In Ultan Long-Hand's house, that day, at pleasant Dunamain,
It chanced, his Queen, Finguala, and the women of her train
Were busied heating water for the bath; and with them there
Went, moping idly, Cuanna, long-handed Ultan's heir;
An orphan and an idiot. While as yet a little page
He had been sent to Tara, to the King, in fosterage:
But, ere the second week was passed within the royal school,
King Domnal's tutors finding him, or deeming him, a fool,
Had sent him to Hy-Brazil back: where Cuanna whiled away
His hours amongst the women. Now his stepmother, that day,
Had bade him fetch fresh firewood for the heating of the bath;
And Cuanna, like an idiot, had raked up from pool and path
Green birchen twigs, and oziers dank, and brambles clogged with mire,
And with the smoky fuel green had well nigh quenched the fire.

“Done like thee,” cried the stepmother, with angry bitter taunt;
“Done like an idiot, as thou art! Aye, wo is me; we want

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“Another sort of son this day, than such an one as thou,
“Thou good-for-nothing imbecile! Know'st thou not that even now
“Thy sire and royal foster-sire on Moyra's bloody plain
“Are fighting for their lives, like men, 'gainst cruel Congal Claen;
“Are fighting for their lives and crowns, their wives and children dear,
“Like valiant men, at Moyra, and thou stand'st idling here?”

“Show me the way to Moyra,” Cuanna answered, all a-flame.

“Small skill there needs to find it,” replied the bitter dame:
“Get thee down to Neur-Kin-Troya, where the hosts have left their track
“Plain enough for even an idiot to follow there and back.”

“Bestow me arms and armour,” cried Cuanna.

“Spear or shield
“There is not left within the house since Ultan took the field,”
Replied the Queen: but this was false: for much she stood in dread
Lest Cuanna's scattered sparks of sense should gather to a head,
And all her hopes to see her own first-born assume the sway
Be, in the elder son's return to reason, swept away.
Wherefore she sought to urge him forth with words of taunt and scorn,
Naked, to war, that so perchance the youth might not return.

“Arms yet enough are left behind,” said Cuanna; and he strode
To where the bill-hook lay wherewith, that morning, he had mowed
The dank soft twigs as with a scythe; and scythe-sharp was the blade,
And spear-keen was the iron spike the skilful smith had made

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Projecting from the burnished hook; and javelin-long the shaft
Of tough ash twixt its brazen straps.

“Spear here,” he cried, and laughed:
And, to the bath-house turning next, with ready art undid
The bolts that to the cauldron-head secured the brazen lid.
“Shield here,” he cried, and laughed again; and with a leathern thong
Passed through the handle's inner eyes, in cross-lapped bandage strong
He braced the great disk to his arm. But when the Queen beheld
Young Cuanna's practice, fear and rage her jealous bosom swelled;
And, “Fool,” she cried, “thou wouldst destroy the cauldron that thy Sire
“Bought with three hundred kine: restore the cover, I desire,
“Instantly to its former place.”

But Cuanna laughed in scorn;
And when the Queen laid hands on him, and would, herself, have torn
The boss'd brass from his arm, with force so sudden Cuanna shook
Her weak grasp off, and gave withal so terrible a look
Of bloody meaning, that the Queen and all the maids and wives
About her fled a spear-cast off in terror of their lives,
Clapping their hands and raising loud their helpless ulaloos,
While Cuanna took his downward route straight for the Strand-End-Yews.

Arrived at Neur-Kin-Troya, all the Strand-End brown and vast
Was scored with tracks where chariot-wheels and weighted steeds had passed,

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The hoof-prints pointing to the North; and northward, on the trail
Of horse and chariot, all alone, went Cuanna up the vale.

On came the royal idiot on the strong track of the war,
Till past the fords of Ornav he descried the fight afar:
And the first man he encountered on the borders of the strife
Was Fercar Finn, his father's steward: he had escaped with life,
But deeply wounded; and he cried, his labouring gasps between,
“Good, my dear Cuanna, wherefore thou in such a bloody scene?”

“I come to slay false Congal,” the generous fool replied;
“And learn to be a warrior by my royal father's side.”

“Alas, dear child, since long ere noon thy royal Sire lies slain,
“Pierced by a javelin, through the heart, by cruel Congal Claen.”

“Right soon will I revenge his death,” cried Cuanna. “Tell me where
“The traitor fights.”

“Where thickest ranks thou seest recoiling, there
“Be sure, is Congal. But beware: thou canst not bear the shock
“Of battle with thy youthful frame: besides, they all would mock
“Thine arms fantastic: for who yet ere sought a battle-field
“With bill-hook for a spear, and lid of cauldron for a shield?”

“Let mock who will,” the youth replied; “for see; the tide of war
“Seeths like the rising seas I've seen on Cuan Carlinne's bar;
“And all the hosts are this way driven. Now for the first essay
“In arms of Cuanna, called the Fool no longer from to-day.”

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And heading onward through the press, within a little space,
He found himself with Congal Claen confronted, face to face.

Triumphant Congal just ere then had, with his sword, achieved
A feat of more than swordsman-skill, yet fit to be believed,
Upon Caenfalla Olliolson, a doctor even then
Accounted wiser than the most of Erin's learned men.
He, when he saw the King that way direct his slaughtering path,
Had in his heart conceived the hope, himself, to quell his wrath;
And for a little while withstood his onset: but his heart
At the third sword-stroke failed him quite; and all his warrior-art
He clean forgot; and public shame embracing, turned and fled;
While Congal with a following stroke cut through his hinder head,
Letting the lower brain exude. Caenfalla there had died
Upon the field; but Erc and Flan, old pupils, drew aside
The fainting master, and on poles conveyed him to the rere
To Bishop Senach, where he breathed through that good leech's care;
And Senach next committed him to the physician-seer,
Mild Brecan, in whose hospital he lay, at cure, a year;
And at the twelvemonths' end was found, such virtue is in store
In purging of the hinder brain, twice wiser than before.
And now for all Caenfalla's books of wit and hopeful aid
To learning, Ir's and Ever's sons give thanks to Congal's blade.

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When, therefore, Congal saw the fool stand where the sage had stood,
He stood himself, and loudly laughed; and cried in scornful mood,

“A mighty hosting, by my head; a terrible array
“This potent King of Erin makes against me here to-day,
“Who brings his valiant sages and grammarians from their schools,
“And also, in amazing arms, his lunatics and fools.”

“Mock no man's son,” said Cuanna, “who comes to do his best,
“And give his day of battle for his country with the rest.”

“Take not my words in anger, I beseech thee, brother mine,”
Said Congal; “well I know that strife is no concern of thine.”
And would have passed him by in scorn: but Cuanna, as he pass'd,
Pressed hard his foot against the ground, and made a mighty cast
Of the great bill-hook from behind: just where the rings were laced
Whereby the brass-seamed coat of mail round Congal's side was braced
The weapon entered: through the rings of brittle brass, and through
The deer-skin war-shirt underneath the rugged weapon flew,
And deep within his flank hung fixed: but, deep as was the wound,
It did not yet suffice to bring strong Congal to the ground.

He turned, and might have slain the fool; but Congal's heart disdained
That weapons of a warrior should with idiot blood be stained.
He laid his glittering weapons on the green grass at his feet,
And with both hands essayed to drag the weapon from its seat,

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But failed: a second time he tugg'd with painful sick essay,
And failed: but at the third attempt the javelin came away.
Then round his lacerated side he drew his glittering belt,
Resumed his arms, and stood erect, as though he scarce had felt
The wound that through his vitals was diffusing death the while;
And said,

“It grieves me, Cuanna, that the weak hands imbecile
“Of one devoid of reason, should have dealt this fatal blow;
“For, that it is a mortal hurt thou 'st given me, well I know:
“And well I knew my death to-day at Moyra stood decreed;
“But thought to find my destiny at other hands, indeed.
“Had many-battled Kellach dealt the final blow of fate,
“I by a King, and like a King, had died with mind elate.
“Or Crunvall, to whose royal Sire the stroke of fate I gave,
“To die by him had been to feed the vengeance of the brave:
“But thus at last to perish by thy weak, inglorious spear,
“Forgive me, foolish Cuanna; this is hard indeed to bear.”

Nought answered Cuanna; but caught up his weapon where it lay,
And towards the royal standard straight proceeded through the fray,
Where Domnal stood among his Chiefs and Bishops: hard bested
He was to pass the thronging groups, 'mongst whom already spread
The rumour that a stranger youth had slain the dreaded King:
But, ever pressing on, at length he stood within the ring

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Before the Monarch; and exclaimed, in eager accents clear,
Laying his bill at Domnal's feet, “The blood of Congal here.”

Then, some who saw the feat achieved, avouching it for truth,
The King exclaimed, “Oh glorious deed; and thou, oh happy youth,
“Say who thou art, and ask such boon as Domnal can bestow,
“For this, thy realm-enfranchising and mischief-ending blow.”

Then Cuanna from his brow and face put back the matted hair,
And drew his body to its height, and with a graceful air,
For tall and comely was the youth, and of a manly mould,
His simple story to the King with modest freedom told.

“My name is Cuanna, eldest son of Ultan, who, sometime,
“Was King in Orior. When a child, my wicked Nurse, whose crime
“Goes still unpunished, with a doll, dressed as a goblin, so
“Scared me, that ever since I've lost my reason; but I know
“Enough to know that cunning wretch, ere yet my mother died,
“Inveigled Ultan to her bed; and now, where once she plied
“Her menial office, sits his Queen. Now, when I grew of age
“For nurture, I to thee, oh King, was sent in pupilage:
“But, ere I spent the second week within your Highness' school,
“Thy tutors, finding, or, at least, supposing, me a fool,
“Returned me home; and as a fool and idiot ever since
“I've had their usage—used, indeed, not as an idiot prince,
“But as a menial slave, by her who longs to see me dead,
“That her own son, without dispute, might reign in Ultan's stead.

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“Wherefore, to-day, she would have urged me forth to battle here,
“Naked, pretending that the house held neither shield nor spear,
“Although in Ultan's inner hall a hundred men might find
“Weapons and tackle competent, and still leave store behind.
“And so, with such rude substitutes as these which here ye see
“Perforce I came: and God to these has given the victory.
“And now, oh King, the boon I crave is, to be set at large
“Forthwith from Queen Finguala's thrall; and from the shameful charge
“Of women tutors; and to wear a good sword by my side,
“And have my hound to chase the deer, and have my horse to ride,
“As other princely youths are wont: and, when I'm older grown,
“To have a fair and pleasant wife and household of my own;
“But first of all the boons I crave is this, that, back again,
“While she sits there, I be not sent to live at Dunamain.
“For, rather would I be the dog that stands upon the watch
“Beside the board of some poor man, to see what it may snatch,
“At peril of the housewife's staff, with rib and back-bone clung,
“Than live, a King, within the reach of that fell vixen's tongue.”

“All that thou wouldst,” replied the King, “dear Cuanna, shall be done.
“And furthermore, I make a vow, thy wicked stepdame's son
“Shall never sit in Ultan's place: and if in Dunamain
“Arms but for one be found, she wears, for life, the captive's chain.”

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“'Tis good,” said Cuanna; and sat down; and from the gravelly soil
Picking the pebbles smooth, began to toss, with patient toil,
The little stones from hand to hand, alternate back and palm,
Regardless of the presence round, and lapsed in childish calm.

But Congal, conscious that his strength by slow degrees decayed,
Resolved, while yet his arm had nerve to lift the wearying blade,
To spend his still-remaining power in one supreme attack,
That Ulster so with victory, though Kingless, might go back.

Then once again the lines of fight were stretched from wing to wing
Of Congal's battle; and the hosts led by the vigorous King,
For so to all their eyes he seemed, once more in dense array
Across the corpse-encumbered mead moved to renew the fray.

An onset terrible it was: in all the fight till then
Fell not so many of the flower of Erin's youths and men.
Full on Momonia fell the brunt; the burst Momonian host
An arrow-flight on either hand recoiled; and well nigh lost
For Domnal seemed the day; when lo, forth came Aed Bennan's son,
His bedfellow and fosterer in former days, Maldun,
And challenged Congal to the strife: thrice had he thought before
To raise his courage to the feat; and thrice his feet forbore
To bear him past the sheltering ranks: but now, that Cuanna's blow,
Through Congal's ghastly cheek, proclaimed that life was ebbing low,
He deemed the hour at length arrived when he might safely dare
The King's encounter: and he cried, “Turn, Congal, and prepare

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“To meet a traitor's recompense. No second rumour vain
“Shall now delude us, heralding the King of Ulster slain.”

The force of scorn, a moment's space, recalled the rallying blood
To Congal's cheek. Between the hosts with form erect he stood,
And cried, “Oh, hardy enterprise! Oh, rare adventurous wight!
“And hast thou strung thy soul at length to venture forth to fight?
“I know thee well, thou coward! Never yet, from childhood's hour,
“Hadst thou for any manly deed the purpose or the power.
“But ever since thy childhood, 'twas thy chiefest pride and praise
“To imitate the dark, insidious, battle-shunning ways
“Of thy politic preceptor; and a right Domnalian feat
“It were, mine idiot slayer of his just reward to cheat.”

Replied Maldun, “Thy railing words, injurious King, I hold
“But as the womanish recourse of tongue-puissant scold;
“And, for thy guilty insults to thy sovereign and thy sire,
“Small the amount of warrior-art or valour 'twill require
“To quell a wretch devoted by his crimes to every harm
“That heaven decrees the impious man; upon whose palsied arm
“Hangs parricide's foul fetter; and whose halting foot is bound
“By the iron spancil of the Church's curses to the ground.”

And therewithal he cast his spear. But Congal's rallying look,
For all the boldness of his speech, his heart within him shook;
And feebly, with a wavering flight, the aimless javelin strayed
Past Congal's shoulder. Then the King swung high his glittering blade,

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And gathering all the force that still lodged in his mighty frame,
Struck on the helmet of Maldun; but struck with luckless aim,
For, even as crest and crashing helm half yielded to the stroke,
Short from its rivets, at the hilt, the faithless weapon broke;
And, high as from a tree-top, in the pairing time of spring,
A warbling bird springs up to heaven, its lay of love to sing,
So high above the warriors' heads leaped Congal's flickering blade:
But the blind counter-stroke Maldun, with aimless instinct, made,
As Congal from his crest drew back the remnant of the brand,
Sheer from the King's extended wrist smote off the good right hand.
The empty, far-projected hand whirled, grasping, o'er and o'er;
And sank, to deal heroic blows and generous gifts no more.
Then maddened Congal would have closed; but, at his aspect dread,
Maldun, unconscious of his own achievement, turned and fled.

“Aye, go thy ways,” exclaimed the King, in bitter scornful ire;
“Thou now art treading worthily the footsteps of thy sire.
“I little thought, though well prepared to meet a warrior's doom,
“That 'twas from hands like his and thine the stroke of fate should come.”

With this, the Meathmen's parting ranks to Congal's gaze revealed
Kellach, new-armed, and fresh from rest, advancing on the field.
So from his cloud the eagle comes; so from the leafy walks
Of brown Gaetulian thicket-sides the lordly lion stalks.

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Darkness came with him: all the heavens with sudden gloom were spread,
And gathering mists of faintness closed round Congal's drooping head;
But still he kept his wavering feet, still waved his flickering shield,
And said,

“Oh Kellach, thou art late. My conquest now can yield
“Small fame: but if Malcova's son desire, in future lays,
“With idiot Cuanna and with him to share inglorious praise,
“Approach, and slaughter Congal Claen, where maimed and bare he stands,
“An easy prey to butcher-swords, left by ignoble hands.”

“No, Congal,” generous Kellach said: “no blood of thine shall dim
“The weapons of Malcova's son, while armed and whole of limb
“He; mutilated, swordless thou; nor shall this spear deprive
“Young Cuanna of his just renown: but yield thyself alive.”

He sank his spear half-raised to cast, and sprang to seize the King;
But, ere he reached him, Congal dropped; and with a swooping wing,
Sudden and black, the storm came down: with scourge of hissing hail
It lashed the blinded, stumbling hosts: a shrill loud-whistling wail
And thunderous clamors filled the sky, it seemed, with such a sound
As though to gaint herdsman's call there barked a giant hound
Within the cloud above their heads; and loud-rebounding strokes
They also heard, or seemed to hear, and claps of flapping cloaks

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Within the bosom of the cloud: so deemed they; but anon
The storm rolled northward; and the hosts perceived the King was gone.

Light from the sun, and panic-dread diffusive as the light,
From heaven at once together fell on Congal's line of fight:
And though they held no counsel, nor did man confer with man,
Yet through the whole invading host, from wing to centre, ran
The desperate simultaneous wish to turn from Domnal's face
Their firm opposing bucklers, and expose him, in their place,
Their shoulders and their hollow spines, exchanging strength and fame,
Safety and pride, for helpless flight, destruction, death and shame.

Then dire was their disorder, as the wavering line at first
Swayed to and fro irresolute; then, all disrupted, burst
Like waters from a broken dam effused upon the plain,
The shelter of Killultagh's woods and winding glens to gain.

To expedite their running, in their shameful-vieing race,
Helmet and shield they cast away, long lance and iron mace.
Gold-sparkling swords and shirts of mail in glittering heaps were spread,
Resplendent, gleaming 'mongst the heaps of wounded and of dead.
But, though prodigious plunder so encumbered all their track,
For beaten gold nor cloth of gold would Domnal's Chiefs hold back
Their eager hands from vengeance, or their feet from warrior-toil;
But, leaving slave and horse-boy to collect the glittering spoil,

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Themselves, with leaps and spurnings amid the entangling throes
Of writhing, prostrate enemies, with close, limb-severing blows,
Urged on the pitiless pursuit; the helpless flying crowd
Consumed beneath the wasting sword as melts the morning cloud.

Death levels all: and where they ran, hard by the brink of death,
Speed was the last distinction left; and he whose store of breath
Sufficed to bear him farthest forth, was deemed, of all the rest,
Richest: nor ran there there a man who, if he had possessed
The world and all its cattle, would have grudged to give the whole
For one hour's fleetness of a deer to gain the sheltering goal,
Leaving friend and foe behind him. Many a son was there, in sooth,
Outrunning his own father; many a fleet, deep-chested youth,
Spent and breathless, overtaken; many an elsewhere valiant man,
As, among the hindmost flyers, in the crowded rere he ran,
Crying, “Halt, and make a stand, my friends,” to those who fled in front;
But with no intent, himself, to halt; but only that the brunt
Might fall on any other, friend or brother, whomsoe'er
His wile could cast behind him in the deadly-crowded rere.
There many a haughty noble ran, of stripe and badge bereft;
Ran many a lithe-ham'd vaulter, without leap or breathing left;
And men who, in the morning, would have rather died than fled,
Now, even as wide-winged running birds, with labouring arms out-spread

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And shoulders raised alternate, bounded forward like the wind,
Eager only in their horror to leave friend and foe behind.

Of all the field Halt Kellach on his chair alone sat still,
Where placed to view the battle on the airy, green-sloped hill:
And, like a sea-rock that alone of all around stands fast,
Mid scudding clouds, and hurrying waves, and hoarse tides racing past,
So sat he rooted mid the rout; so, past his brazen chair
Was poured the heavy-rolling tide of ruin and despair:
And oft he cried to those who fled, with shrill, disdainful call,
“Stand fast: fear nothing: turn like men!” but none gave heed at all;
Till, Druid Drostan hurrying by, like maniac horror-driven,
He hailed him mid the long-hair'd rout, “Bald-head, how fare my Seven?”
“Slain all,” was all the sage replied, as labouring on he went:
Then Kellach leaned upon his couch, and said, “I am content.”
Nor spoke he more till Elar Derg cried, “Old man of the chair,
“Courage: young Brasil still survives, and seeks thee everywhere.”
And Brasil's self, emerging from the flying throng, appeared,
Bloody and faint, but calling out incessant as he neared,
“Ho, father, I am with thee. Courage, father; I am here:
“Up; mount upon my shoulders: I have strength to bear thee clear.”
And ran and knelt beside the chair, to heave him on his back;
But as he stooped, even through the curls that clustered on his neck,

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An arrow smote him. Kellach said, “Best so. I thank thee, God,
“That by no son of mine the path of shame will now be trod.”
And leaned again upon his couch; and set his hoary head,
Awaiting death, with face as fixed as if already dead.

But keen-eyed Domnal, where he stood to view the rout, ere long
Spying that white unmoving head amid the scattering throng,
Exclaimed, “Of all their broken host one only man I see
“Not flying; and I therefore judge him impotent to be
“Of use of limb. Go: take alive,” he cried, “and hither fetch
“The hoary-haired unmoving man: 'tis Kellach, hapless wretch,
“The very author of the war. There lives not on the face
“Of earth a man stands so in need of God's forgiving grace:
“And,—for he was my father's friend, and that white helpless head
“Stirs my compassion,—though my foe, I would not see him sped
“Unshrived to that accounting dread; if yet your pious care,
“Oh Pontiffs, may prevail to bend his stubborn heart to prayer.”

Said Bishop Erc,—the kinsman he of Erc of Slane,—“The ban
“Already has gone duly forth against the impious man:
“And till the power that laid it on, that sentence shall reverse,
“He who to Kellach proffers grace, is partner in his curse.”

Said Senach, “No authentic note to me has yet arrived
“Of such a sentence. If he will, the Senior shall be shrived.”

“I know the man,” said Ronan Finn. “A Pagan strong: beware
“Lest he repay with blasphemy your proffered call to prayer.”

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While thus the Prelates; from their side, as strong-cast javelin, sent
From palm of long-armed warrior, a swift battalion went,
And, breaking through the hindmost line, where Kellach sat hard by,
Took him alive; and chair and man uphoisting shoulder-high,
They bore him back, his hoary locks and red eyes gleaming far,
The grimmest standard yet displayed that day o'er all the war;
And grimly, where they set him down, he eyed the encircling ring
Of Bishops and of chafing Chiefs who stood about the King.

Then, with his crozier's nether end turned towards him, Bishop Erc
Said, “Wretch abhorred, to thee it is we owe this bloody work;
“By whose malignant counsel moved, thy hapless nephew first
“Sought impious aid of foreigners; for which be thou accurst.”
And turned and left them.

Senach then approaching, mildly said,
“No curse so strong, but in the blood for man's redemption shed,
“May man dissolve; and also thou, unhappy, if thou wilt,
“May'st purchase peace and pardon now, and every stain of guilt
“That soils thy soul, may'st wash away; if but with heart sincere
“Thou wilt repent thee, and embrace the heavenly boon which here
“I offer.”

“Speak him louder, Sir,” said harsher Ronan Finn.
“Kellach, repent thy sins,” he cried; “and presently begin:
“For few the moments left thee now; and, ere the hour be past,
“Thy lot may, for eternity, in Heaven or Hell be cast.”

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“Repent thy sins,” said Domnal; “and implore the Church's grace;
“So shall thy life be spared thee yet a little breathing-space.”

Then Kellach from the Bishops' gaze withdrew his wavering glance,
And, fixing his fast-glazing eyes on Domnal's countenance,
Said, “I am old, and mainly deaf; and much of what they say
“I hear not: but I tell thee this; we'd not be here to-day
“But for this trick of cursing; wherein much more expert
“Are these front-shaven Druids than in any manly art.”

“Injurious Kellach,” said the King, “beware the chastening rod
“The Church of Christ reserves for those who mock the priests of God.”

“Of no good God are these the priests,” said Kellach; “and, for me,
“I ne'er sought evil Spirit's aid 'gainst any enemy:
“But what I've learned in better times among my noble peers,
“That I have practised and upheld for well nigh fourscore years;
“And never asked from clerk or witch, by sacrifice or charm,
“To buy a demon's venal help to aid my own right arm:
“But in my house, good Poets, men expert in song and lay,
“I've kept, in bounteous sort, to teach my sons the prosperous way
“Of open truth and manliness: for, ever since the time
“When Cathbad smothered Usnach's sons in that foul sea of slime
“Raised by abominable spells at Creeveroe's bloody gate,
“Do ruin and dishonour still on priest-led Kings await.

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“Wherefore, by Fergus, son of Roy, ere that year pass'd away,
“Emania was left bare and black; and so lies at this day:
“And thou in desert Tara darest not, thyself, to dwell,
“Since that other bald magician, of Lorrah, from his bell
“Shook out his maledictions on the unoffending hill.”

Said Domnal, “By my valour, old man, thou doest ill,
“Comparing blessed Saints of Christ with Pagan priests of Crom.”

“Crom, or whomever else they serve,” said Kellach; “them that come
“Cursing, I curse.”

Then Ronan Finn, upheaving high his bell,
Rang it, and gave the banning word; and Kellach therewith fell
Off his tolg side upon the ground, stone dead. The Poets there,
Next night, in secret, buried him upon his brazen chair.

Brass-armed complete for standing fight, in Cahir-Laery's wall,
Sun-smitten Laery, rampart-tomb'd, awaits the judgment-call,
Facing the Leinstermen; years roll; and Leinster is no more
The dragon-den of hostile men it was in days of yore;
Still, constant till the day of doom, while the great stone-work lasts,
Laery stands listening for the trump, at whose wall-bursting blasts
He leaps again to fire thy plain, oh Liffey, with the glare
Of that dread golden-bordered shield: thus ever, on his chair,
Kellach awaits, from age to age, the coming of the time
Will bring the cursers and the curs'd before the Judge sublime.

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But, rapt in darkness and in swoon of anguish and despair,
As in a whirlwind, Congal Claen seemed borne thro' upper air;
And, conscious only of the grief surviving at his heart,
Now deemed himself already dead, and that his deathless part
Journeyed to judgment; but before what God's or demon's seat
Dared not conjecture; though, at times, from tramp of giant feet
And heavy flappings heard in air, around and underneath,
He darkly surmised who might be the messenger of death
Who bore him doomward: but anon, laid softly on the ground,
His mortal body with him still, and still alive he found.

Loathing the light of day he lay; nor knew nor reck'd he where;
For present anguish left his mind no room for other care;
All his great heart to bursting filled with rage, remorse and shame,
To think what labour come to nought, what hopes of power and fame
Turned in a moment to contempt; what hatred and disgrace
Fixed thenceforth irremovably on all his name and race;—
Till Ardan's voice beside him rose, “Lo, Congal, we are here,
“Not, I attest all Earth and Heaven, through willing flight or fear:
“But, when from Kellach's last assault I caught thee to my car
“Fainting, a frenzy seized the steeds, and swept us from the war;
“And all night long, with furious hoofs, and necks that scorned control,
“They've borne us northward, and have here attained their fated goal.”

Then Congal raised his drooping head, and saw with bloodshot eyes
His native vale before him spread; saw grassy Collin rise

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High o'er the homely Antrim hills. He groaned with rage and shame.
“And have I fled the field,” he cried; “and shall my hapless name
“Become this byeword of reproach? Rise; bear me back again,
“And lay me where I yet may lie among the valiant slain.”

“The steeds,” said Ardan, “'neath the yoke, behold, lie stiff in death.
“Here fate has fixed that thou and I shall draw our last of breath;
“For I am worn with weight of years, and feebly now inhale
“The vital air: and newer life from mountain and from vale
“Rises and pushes me aside. A voice that seems to cry,
“‘Make way; make straight another way,’ is filling earth and sky.”

A thought came into Congal's mind,—how sent let faith divine,—
He said, “No man had ever shame or grief compared to mine.
“A fugitive against my will: in sacrilegious feud,
“A proud invader, shamefully by idiot hands subdued.
“But more than for myself I mourn my generous friends deceived,
“And all their wives and little ones of lord and sire bereaved.”

Tears sent from whence the thought had come,—let faith divine their source,—
Rose at the thought to Congal's eyes, and pressed with tender force
Unwonted passage; and he wept, with many bitter sighs,
In sudden vision of his life and all its vanities.

As when a tempest—which, all day, with whirlwind, fire and hail,
Vexing mid-air, has hid the sight of sunshine from the vale,—

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Towards sunset rolls its thunders up; fast as it mounts on high,
A flood of placid light re-fills the lately troubled sky;
Shine all the full down-sliding streams, wet blades and quivering sprays,
And all the grassy-sided vales with emerald lustre blaze;
So, in the shower of Congal's tears, his storms of passion pass'd;
So, o'er his long distempered soul came tranquil light at last.

Ere wonder in his calming mind had found reflection's aid,
There came across the daisyed lawn a veiled religious maid
From wicket of a neighbouring close; and, as she nearer drew,
The peerless gesture and the grace indelible he knew.

She, when she saw the wounded man was Congal, stood and prayed
A little space, and trembled much: then came, and meekly said,
“Sir, thou art wounded; and I come from Brigid's cell hard by
“To tend thy wants, if thou wilt brook a sister's charity.”

“And is my aspect also, then, so altered,” Congal cried,
“That thou, Lafinda, knowest me not, that shouldst have been my bride?”

“Bride now of Christ,” she answered low; “I know thee but as one
“For whom my heavenly Spouse has died.”

“And other nuptials none
“Desire I for thee now,” he said; “for nothing now is mine,
“Save the fast-fleeting breath of life I hasten to resign.”

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She knelt to aid him. As she knelt, light-wafted o'er the green,
In shadow of a passing cloud, was flying Sweeny seen.
Whom when, at first, Lafinda knew, her cheek, so pale but now,
And all the veil allowed to view of neck and marble brow,
Grew red with shame. But Congal said,

“Although the assembled host
“Have seen him fly, yet scorn him not, nor deem thy brother lost,
“More than his Chief, who also fled.”

“The red blood on thy cheek,”
Said Ardan, “maid, mis-seems thee not. Though vowed submiss and meek,
“Thou art a royal daughter still. But deem not that he flies,
“Impelled by dread of mortal foe. The demons of the skies,
“Wielding the unseen whips of God, are they who drive him on,
“Mad, but in no disgraceful flight unworthy Colman's son.”

“Sister,” said Sweeny; and he came, with light foot, gliding nigh;
“I come not hither as he comes, in sight of home to die.
“My day, indeed, is distant yet: and many a wandering race
“Must I with wind and shower maintain; and many a rainbow chase
“Across the wet-bright meads, ere I, like him, obtain release
“From furious fancy's urgent stings, and lay my limbs in peace.
“Lo, all is changed. In Brigid's cell thou, now, a close-shut nun,
“That wert the assemblies' pride before. I, with the clouds and sun,

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“And bellowing creatures of the glade, for comrades of my way,
“Roam homeless; I, that was a king of thousands yesterday.”

“Grieve not for me,” Lafinda said. “In Brigid's cell I find
“The calm-enforcing discipline and humbleness of mind
“My nature needed, and yet needs. And thou, my brother wild,
“Take ghostly counsel; and thou, too, may'st yet be reconciled
“To God and reason.”

Sweeny said; “Some holy man, perchance,
“May aid me; but unless he dwell where morning sunbeams dance
“In spray of upland waterfalls, or tell his beads below
“Where, deep in murky mountain-clefts, the moon-white waters flow,
“Small chance is his and mine to meet: for there my path must lie;
“And thither rise my feet to run o'er crags and hill-tops high.
“But not alone I course the wild. Although apart from men,
“Shapes of the air attend my steps, and have me in their ken.”

Even as he spoke, soft-rustling sounds to all their ears were borne,
Such as warm winds at eve excite 'mongst brown-ripe rolling corn.
All, but Lafinda, looked: but she, behind a steadfast lid,
Kept her calm eyes from that she deemed a sight unholy, hid.
And Congal reck'd not if the Shape that passed before his eyes
Lived only on the inward film, or outward 'neath the skies.

No longer soiled with stain of earth, what seemed his mantle shone
Rich with innumerable hues refulgent, such as one

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Beholds, and thankful-hearted he, who casts abroad his gaze
O'er some rich tillage-country-side, when mellow Autumn days
Gild all the sheafy foodful stooks; and, broad before him spread,—
He looking landward from the brow of some great sea-cape's head,
Bray or Ben-Edar—sees beneath, in silent pageant grand,
Slow fields of sunshine spread o'er fields of rich, corn-bearing land;
Red glebe and meadow-margin green commingling to the view
With yellow stubble, browning woods, and upland tracts of blue;—
Then, sated with the pomp of fields, turns, seaward, to the verge
Where, mingling with the murmuring wash made by the far-down surge,
Comes up the clangorous song of birds unseen, that, low beneath,
Poised off the rock, ply underfoot; and, 'mid the blossoming heath,
And mint-sweet herb that loves the ledge rare-air'd, at ease reclined,
Surveys the wide pale-heaving floor crisped by a curling wind;
With all its shifting, shadowy belts, and chasing scopes of green,
Sun-strown, foam-freckled, sail-embossed, and blackening squalls between,
And slant, cerulean-skirted showers that with a drowsy sound,
Heard inward, of ebullient waves, stalk all the horizon round;
And—haply, being a citizen just 'scaped from some disease
That long has held him sick indoors, now, in the brine-fresh breeze,
Health-salted, bathes; and says, the while he breathes reviving bliss,
“I am not good enough, oh God, nor pure enough for this!”—

146

Such seemed its hues. His feet were set in fields of waving grain;
His head, above, obscured the sun: all round the leafy plain
Blackbird and thrush piped loud acclaims: in middle air, breast-high,
The lark shrill carolled: overhead, and halfway up the sky,
Sailed the far eagle: from his knees, down dale and grassy steep,
Thronged the dun, mighty upland droves, and mountain-mottling sheep,
And by the river-margins green, and o'er the thymy meads
Before his feet, careered, at large, the slim-knee'd, slender steeds.

It passed. Light Sweeny, as it passed, went also from their view:
And conscious only of her task, Lafinda bent anew
At Congal's side. She bound his wounds, and asked him, “Has thy heart
“At all repented of its sins, unhappy that thou art?”

“My sins,” said Congal, “and my deeds of strife and bloodshed seem
“No longer mine, but as the shapes and shadows of a dream:
“And I myself, as one oppressed with sleep's deceptive shows,
“Awaking only now to life, when life is at its close.”

“Oh, grant,” she cried with tender joy, “Thou, who alone canst save,
“That this awaking be to light and life beyond the grave!”

'Twas then the long-corroded links of life's mysterious chain
Snapped softly; and his mortal change passed upon Congal Claen.

147

As sank the limbs relaxed in death, from Brigid's neighbouring cell,
With clang importunate began the Sisters' morning bell.
She closed the eyes; the straightened limbs in comely posture laid;
And, going with submissive steps, the call to prayer obeyed.

Then Ardan spread his hands to heaven, and said, “I stand alone,
“Last wreck remaining of a Power and Order overthrown,
“Much needing solace: and, ah me, not in the empty lore
“Of Bard or Druid does my soul find peace or comfort more;
“Nor in the bells or crooked staves or sacrificial shows
“Find I the help my soul desires, or in the chaunts of those
“Who claim our Druids' vacant place. Alone and faint, I crave,
“Oh God, one ray of Heavenly light to help me to the grave,
“Such even as thou, dead Congal, hadst; that so, these eyes of mine
“May look their last on earth and heaven with calmness such as thine.”

The wicket opened once again, and forth came Seniors four,
Who, raising Congal on a bier, the royal body bore
Into the consecrated close. While yet half open lay
The wicket-gate, the distant sounds of tumult and affray
Came on the breeze.

“Old man,” said one; “approaching foes begin
“To fill the vale with death. If thou wouldst save thy life, come in.”

148

“Servants of Brigid,” Ardan said. “To God be thankful praise,
“Who turns the hearts of men like you towards me in tender ways:
“Yet, since my King has found the peace I seek to share, outside
“Your Saint's enclosure, here will I the will of Heaven abide.”

“On his own head, Lord, not on ours,” they said, “let lie the blame.”
And closed the gate; while up the hill the hosts of Domnal came.