 | Deirdrae |  |
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THE RETURN TO EMAN.
A feast in Eman. Many a noble guest,
Poet and sage and hero of the best,
Sat round the glittering table with the king,
And heard the tympan and the sweet harp ring.
And to the minstrel's music, ruby-red,
The bright wine sparkled, and the mead-horn sped
From hand to hand, and laughter rose, and Care,
Queller of joy, showed no black visage there.
There sat the king, to each one bland and kind,
Yet still revolving in his secret mind
Great thoughts of doom and vengeance; for the dart
Of Jealousy still burned within his heart
With smouldering sting, that showed no outward trace
Of its fell working on his royal face.
And there sat Conal Carna, he whose power
Swayed o'er the lands where high Dunseverick's tower,
Perched like an osprey, in its strength and pride
Watched o'er the wave of Toth; and by his side,
Resplendent in his youthful bravery,
Strongest of Scotic warriors, sat he,
All-beautiful Cuhullin, whose dread sword
In after-time for Eman kept the Ford
'Gainst Mab and Olild till the succor came;
And who on red Murtheimnè's field of fame
Fell in his young bloom, fighting for his land.
There Fergus Royson, at the king's right hand,
Sat smiling in his lordly raiment bright
On the glad feast, though oft another light
Filled his dark eyes of love's sweet wistfulness
At thought of some dear wile or fond caress
Of Nessa, his belov'd one, for whose smile
He bartered Eman's throne; and all the while,
Mixed with the elders' converse, one could hear
The laughter of the young knights loud and clear
Round the gay, glittering board: for all were there
Who on their golden shields the Red Branch bare.
And now the bards and minstrels, one by one,
Sang the king's praise,—fair Nessa's glorious son,—
And traced his tree generic, shaft and root,
Sweet-blossomed branch and earth-enlivening fruit,
From Miled's seed. Till 'mid the merriment
Up rose the King, and through the great hall sent
His regal voice:—
Poet and sage and hero of the best,
Sat round the glittering table with the king,
And heard the tympan and the sweet harp ring.
And to the minstrel's music, ruby-red,
The bright wine sparkled, and the mead-horn sped
From hand to hand, and laughter rose, and Care,
Queller of joy, showed no black visage there.
There sat the king, to each one bland and kind,
Yet still revolving in his secret mind
Great thoughts of doom and vengeance; for the dart
Of Jealousy still burned within his heart
With smouldering sting, that showed no outward trace
Of its fell working on his royal face.
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Swayed o'er the lands where high Dunseverick's tower,
Perched like an osprey, in its strength and pride
Watched o'er the wave of Toth; and by his side,
Resplendent in his youthful bravery,
Strongest of Scotic warriors, sat he,
All-beautiful Cuhullin, whose dread sword
In after-time for Eman kept the Ford
'Gainst Mab and Olild till the succor came;
And who on red Murtheimnè's field of fame
Fell in his young bloom, fighting for his land.
There Fergus Royson, at the king's right hand,
Sat smiling in his lordly raiment bright
On the glad feast, though oft another light
Filled his dark eyes of love's sweet wistfulness
At thought of some dear wile or fond caress
Of Nessa, his belov'd one, for whose smile
He bartered Eman's throne; and all the while,
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The laughter of the young knights loud and clear
Round the gay, glittering board: for all were there
Who on their golden shields the Red Branch bare.
And now the bards and minstrels, one by one,
Sang the king's praise,—fair Nessa's glorious son,—
And traced his tree generic, shaft and root,
Sweet-blossomed branch and earth-enlivening fruit,
From Miled's seed. Till 'mid the merriment
Up rose the King, and through the great hall sent
His regal voice:—
“O noble knights!” he said,
“Know ye, in all earth's kingdoms wide outspread,
A kingdom like to mine, a mansion bright
As this is in all things that with delight
O'erfill the heart? Ye know not! Ah! but yet
Think ye no thoughts betimes of sad regret
For what ye name not, that, if won, would bless
Your lives with joy, your joy with perfectness?
No! Then the Gods have made you so that nought
Humane within your hard hearts they have wrought,
Forgetful of your comrades; and must I,
Your king and lord, alone remembering sigh
O'er joys of days long past, and know ye not
Of the fair sunshine of our lives the blot
That stains it, and makes nought our happiness?
Alas! that, like a ship in sore distress,
With rudder gone and ballast spent, our state
Unsteady sails beneath the blasts of Fate,
While they are absent,—they the valiant ones,
The heroes three, great Usna's glorious sons,
And Eman's mainstay, when grim Danger's eye
Glares 'neath his black brows on us threateningly!”
“Know ye, in all earth's kingdoms wide outspread,
A kingdom like to mine, a mansion bright
As this is in all things that with delight
O'erfill the heart? Ye know not! Ah! but yet
Think ye no thoughts betimes of sad regret
For what ye name not, that, if won, would bless
Your lives with joy, your joy with perfectness?
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Humane within your hard hearts they have wrought,
Forgetful of your comrades; and must I,
Your king and lord, alone remembering sigh
O'er joys of days long past, and know ye not
Of the fair sunshine of our lives the blot
That stains it, and makes nought our happiness?
Alas! that, like a ship in sore distress,
With rudder gone and ballast spent, our state
Unsteady sails beneath the blasts of Fate,
While they are absent,—they the valiant ones,
The heroes three, great Usna's glorious sons,
And Eman's mainstay, when grim Danger's eye
Glares 'neath his black brows on us threateningly!”
Then Conal Carna answered, “Dared we say
Our rede, O King, before this happy day,
Oft had we said it; for full well we know
No hearts more brave than theirs the earth can show,
Our kindred banished. Mighty props they are
Of safety, when the fire of Bava's star
Shines lurid on the thick-hedged spears; and well,
Ere this, the Alban king the weight can tell
Of their strong hands of valor: would that they,
O King, were here to grace our revel gay!”
Our rede, O King, before this happy day,
Oft had we said it; for full well we know
No hearts more brave than theirs the earth can show,
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Of safety, when the fire of Bava's star
Shines lurid on the thick-hedged spears; and well,
Ere this, the Alban king the weight can tell
Of their strong hands of valor: would that they,
O King, were here to grace our revel gay!”
Then red-haired Buinè whispered mockingly,
“Behold, O brother Illan, how the sea,
With all its foe-dividing waves, can make
Love between hearts that ever longed to slake
Their vengeance in the war-tide's bloody stream!
Better for them, the Usnanians, that the beam
Of the cold polar sun should on them fall
For ever, than that they anigh this hall
Should bide one hour!”
“Behold, O brother Illan, how the sea,
With all its foe-dividing waves, can make
Love between hearts that ever longed to slake
Their vengeance in the war-tide's bloody stream!
Better for them, the Usnanians, that the beam
Of the cold polar sun should on them fall
For ever, than that they anigh this hall
Should bide one hour!”
“Nay, nay,” said Illan, “nay.
What if our father, Fergus, held the sway
Of his bright shield o'er them as guaranty
Of safety? for none else, it seemeth me,
Shall bring them back. But hear the King again.”
What if our father, Fergus, held the sway
Of his bright shield o'er them as guaranty
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Shall bring them back. But hear the King again.”
“Therefore,” the King said, “o'er wide ocean's plain
Send messengers to Alba's pleasant clime,
And to the Island Fastness; for the time
Hath come at last for Usna's glad return,
And in my heart the fires of longing burn
To see their faces in Ultonian land,
For Friendship's hest hath triumphed, by my hand!”
Send messengers to Alba's pleasant clime,
And to the Island Fastness; for the time
Hath come at last for Usna's glad return,
And in my heart the fires of longing burn
To see their faces in Ultonian land,
For Friendship's hest hath triumphed, by my hand!”
At once and at his word a mighty shout
Of gladness from the glittering throng burst out,
That stirred the silken banners round the hall,
And, “Who shall bring them back?” cried one and all.
Of gladness from the glittering throng burst out,
That stirred the silken banners round the hall,
And, “Who shall bring them back?” cried one and all.
“I know not,” said the King, “for well I wis
That Naisi shuts no eyes upon his bliss;
And he hath sworn with solemn vows no hand
Can lead his footsteps to Ultonian land
Save one of three: Fergus, Roy's kingly son;
And Conal Carna; and our glorious one,
Cuhullin;” and, “Full soon,” he muttered low,
“Who loves me and who loves not, I shall know!”
Then brooding from the hall away went he,
And sent for Conal Carna privily.
That Naisi shuts no eyes upon his bliss;
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Can lead his footsteps to Ultonian land
Save one of three: Fergus, Roy's kingly son;
And Conal Carna; and our glorious one,
Cuhullin;” and, “Full soon,” he muttered low,
“Who loves me and who loves not, I shall know!”
Then brooding from the hall away went he,
And sent for Conal Carna privily.
“Bethink thee, Conal, of the dreadful day
When through Norwegian wilds we took our way,
Our galley wrecked, and we, two famished men,
Unknowing all, passed by the gray bear's den,
And he rushed out on us with thundering roar
That shook the waste. Upon that desert shore,
Bethink thee, Conal, when the monster's claw
Pierced thy strong shoulder, and his fiery jaw
Opened to crunch thy brass-clad head, how there
With steadfast hand my good sword I did bare,
And in the monster's hot heart made its bed,
And saved thee, Conal Carna! By my head!
Well may I ask thee if thou lovest me;
And if the Usnanians 'neath thy guaranty
Returned to Eman's mansions, and were slain,
What thou wouldst do to him who caused their bane?”
When through Norwegian wilds we took our way,
Our galley wrecked, and we, two famished men,
Unknowing all, passed by the gray bear's den,
And he rushed out on us with thundering roar
That shook the waste. Upon that desert shore,
Bethink thee, Conal, when the monster's claw
Pierced thy strong shoulder, and his fiery jaw
Opened to crunch thy brass-clad head, how there
With steadfast hand my good sword I did bare,
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And saved thee, Conal Carna! By my head!
Well may I ask thee if thou lovest me;
And if the Usnanians 'neath thy guaranty
Returned to Eman's mansions, and were slain,
What thou wouldst do to him who caused their bane?”
“But this,” said Conal, with his black brows knit:
“The earth and all the hollow caves of it
Should hide him not from death at my right hand,
Who harmed them!”
“The earth and all the hollow caves of it
Should hide him not from death at my right hand,
Who harmed them!”
Then the King: “Like desert sand,
Shifting thy friendship is; and well I wot
That through all change and time thou lov'st me not!”
Shifting thy friendship is; and well I wot
That through all change and time thou lov'st me not!”
Then called he strong Cuhullin. “Ope thine ear,
O comrade! On Beraran's day of fear
Where wert thou, when across the battle wrack
The sanguine sunset flared?”
O comrade! On Beraran's day of fear
Where wert thou, when across the battle wrack
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“Low on my back,
Within the wood, beneath Beraran's trees,
Upon my laboring breast three foemen's knees,
I lay, O King, and I could almost feel
Touching my throat their brands of bloody steel!”
Within the wood, beneath Beraran's trees,
Upon my laboring breast three foemen's knees,
I lay, O King, and I could almost feel
Touching my throat their brands of bloody steel!”
“Who saved thee then?”
“None else, O King, but thou
Didst save me! O'er thy helmed and royal brow
I saw the red plume flutter, and I saw
In foam and thunder near and nearer draw
Thy war-steed, with the sharp spur's brazen spines
Rending his gory flanks. As sunlight shines
On Lora's cataract flashed thy valiant blade
Out on the greensward from the bosky shade.
Then all was over. There within the wood
Once more beside thee, King, all-armed I stood;
And there beneath thy sword my captors lay,
Their headless trunks reddening the thirsty clay;
And I was free, and sought the fight again
Beside thee, lord and comrade!”
Didst save me! O'er thy helmed and royal brow
I saw the red plume flutter, and I saw
In foam and thunder near and nearer draw
Thy war-steed, with the sharp spur's brazen spines
Rending his gory flanks. As sunlight shines
On Lora's cataract flashed thy valiant blade
Out on the greensward from the bosky shade.
Then all was over. There within the wood
Once more beside thee, King, all-armed I stood;
And there beneath thy sword my captors lay,
Their headless trunks reddening the thirsty clay;
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Beside thee, lord and comrade!”
“Canst thou then
Give life for life? Nay, nay, nay, not thine own!
But should the Usnanian heroes nigh our throne
Come 'neath thy guaranty, what would befall
By thy right hand if death should smite them all?”
Give life for life? Nay, nay, nay, not thine own!
But should the Usnanian heroes nigh our throne
Come 'neath thy guaranty, what would befall
By thy right hand if death should smite them all?”
“Death and destruction, not alone to thee,
But to thy people all should hap from me,
O King!” the hero said with flashing eye;
“For Trust still lives, and Honor ne'er shall die
Within my heart while life abides therein!”
But to thy people all should hap from me,
O King!” the hero said with flashing eye;
“For Trust still lives, and Honor ne'er shall die
Within my heart while life abides therein!”
“Whoso,” the King replied, “thy love shall win
Should prize the precious pearl, but I know now
Thou lov'st me not!”
Should prize the precious pearl, but I know now
Thou lov'st me not!”
And darkening then his brow
He called for Fergus Royson, and with eyes
Deep searching questioned him full fast:—
He called for Fergus Royson, and with eyes
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“He dies
Who slays them, by this hand, save thee, O King!”
Who slays them, by this hand, save thee, O King!”
“Thou art their guaranty, and thou shalt bring
The Usnanians back to Eman's mansions bright,
O Fergus! Therefore at the morning light
Spread thy swift sails; but first swear by the Wind
And the All-powerful Sun, when thou shalt find
Barach beside his house awaiting thee
At thy return, that thou wilt send to me
Without delay Great Usna's sons, that all
May taste their first bread in my banquet-hall!”
The Usnanians back to Eman's mansions bright,
O Fergus! Therefore at the morning light
Spread thy swift sails; but first swear by the Wind
And the All-powerful Sun, when thou shalt find
Barach beside his house awaiting thee
At thy return, that thou wilt send to me
Without delay Great Usna's sons, that all
May taste their first bread in my banquet-hall!”
And Fergus swore.
To Barach spoke the King:—
“Prepare thy board, O Barach, glittering
With dish of gold and jewelled cups that shine
Of saffron-tinted mead and ruby wine
O'er-filled, and pillage fruitful wood and plain
And wandering stream and ocean's wide-spread main
For dainty fare, and give at his return
A feast to Fergus, the great knight, forsworn
If he refuse thee; for in gloomy mood
One even he strayed by ocean's tumbling flood
And Daru's house, his father's comrade old
On many a stricken field. With cups of gold
And things of unknown price the board was set
In the gay mansion for the feast, but yet
No pleadings of the old chief could allure
Stern Fergus to the hall. On mead and moor
The morn rose bright, and with it Fergus rose
And sought the place again; but pirate foes
From off the main sea wave had come that night
And sacked the merry mansion, and the light
Now showed his sad eyes where the old chief lay
Beside his door-post slain! That very day
Before the altar of the Gods, with tears
And sighs of black remorse, 'mid all his peers
Great Fergus vowed to break the law benign
Of Hospitality no more! The wine
Of revel then prepare for him, and there
Feast him as fits a king on dainty fare,
And keep him far from Eman, while I deal
To Usna's sons my feast of blood and steel
And God-sent retribution! Friend, O friend!
Time changes, vengeance never, and the end
That brings my day of reckoning draweth nigh!”
“Prepare thy board, O Barach, glittering
With dish of gold and jewelled cups that shine
Of saffron-tinted mead and ruby wine
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And wandering stream and ocean's wide-spread main
For dainty fare, and give at his return
A feast to Fergus, the great knight, forsworn
If he refuse thee; for in gloomy mood
One even he strayed by ocean's tumbling flood
And Daru's house, his father's comrade old
On many a stricken field. With cups of gold
And things of unknown price the board was set
In the gay mansion for the feast, but yet
No pleadings of the old chief could allure
Stern Fergus to the hall. On mead and moor
The morn rose bright, and with it Fergus rose
And sought the place again; but pirate foes
From off the main sea wave had come that night
And sacked the merry mansion, and the light
Now showed his sad eyes where the old chief lay
Beside his door-post slain! That very day
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And sighs of black remorse, 'mid all his peers
Great Fergus vowed to break the law benign
Of Hospitality no more! The wine
Of revel then prepare for him, and there
Feast him as fits a king on dainty fare,
And keep him far from Eman, while I deal
To Usna's sons my feast of blood and steel
And God-sent retribution! Friend, O friend!
Time changes, vengeance never, and the end
That brings my day of reckoning draweth nigh!”
And now as young Dawn up the eastern sky
Walked robed in pink and pearl and violet,
Strong Fergus sought the shore, his white sails set,
And ploughed the great gray-billow-tumbling sea
Towards Alba's land, and in his company
Took his two sons, stark reapers of the field
Of valor, and the Bearer of his shield,
Huge Collon; and as fast his good ships clave
With brass-bound keels the brine, the spark he gave
His sacrificial fire, and o'er its flame
From the high poop called on the Sea-god's name
With many a prayer for favoring tide and breeze.
Walked robed in pink and pearl and violet,
Strong Fergus sought the shore, his white sails set,
And ploughed the great gray-billow-tumbling sea
Towards Alba's land, and in his company
Took his two sons, stark reapers of the field
Of valor, and the Bearer of his shield,
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With brass-bound keels the brine, the spark he gave
His sacrificial fire, and o'er its flame
From the high poop called on the Sea-god's name
With many a prayer for favoring tide and breeze.
Within the wild bright Island of the seas
The Usnanian heroes lived full happily
As moon by moon and year by year went by
In peacefulness. Fair was their dwelling-place.
Amid a lovely wildwood whose green face
Sloped to the sun with all its whispering bowers,
It lay half hidden by the climbing flowers
The ever-changing seasons had given birth
Round wall and fosse. No sounds save love and mirth
Greeted the listener's ears round that sweet spot,
The cool rill murmuring through the ferny grot,
The ringdove's voice the spiry pines among,
The whisper of the wind-fanned leaves, the song
Of small birds from the grove, the laughter light
Of children dancing on the greensward bright
With pearls of bloom from Summer's golden hand.
The Usnanian heroes lived full happily
As moon by moon and year by year went by
In peacefulness. Fair was their dwelling-place.
Amid a lovely wildwood whose green face
Sloped to the sun with all its whispering bowers,
It lay half hidden by the climbing flowers
The ever-changing seasons had given birth
Round wall and fosse. No sounds save love and mirth
Greeted the listener's ears round that sweet spot,
The cool rill murmuring through the ferny grot,
The ringdove's voice the spiry pines among,
The whisper of the wind-fanned leaves, the song
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Of children dancing on the greensward bright
With pearls of bloom from Summer's golden hand.
Upon a lovely afternoon, when bland
The air was with sweet scents from wood and plain,
Beneath their trellised home-porch sat the twain,
Naisi and Deirdrè, playing at the chess.
And now no shadow of the old distress
Darkened their looks, for all the memory
Seemed faded of the dreadful days gone by.
From the green wood-skirt came the blithesome sound
Of Ardan's questing with his hawk and hound;
And nigh them, in his gold-hemmed shining gear,
Stood Gaier with Ainli casting of the spear,
And shouting as he struck the targe that lay
Across the Green against a tree-bole gray.
“O love!” said Deirdrè, “love! now nought have we
To think of but our own felicity;
For danger from thy conquering arms hath fled,
And joy triumphant reigns, and grief is dead.
Oh! may our lives for ever shine like this,
With no dark cloud to shadow o'er our bliss,
That we may joyful live and joyful die!”
As thus with flushing cheeks and love-bright eye
She spoke, above the green trees from the shore
With long-drawn stress there came a war-horn's roar,
And following soon rang loud throughout the place
The great cry of a mighty man of chase,
That from the distant hills in dreadful tone
Came echoing back. With one hand on the zone
That bound her waist, the other o'er her heart
Pressed close, sat Deirdrè, with her lips apart
And frightened face wherefrom the chilly dew
Of terror fell, as drops when morn is new
Fall from the night-blanched lily: wild she strove
To speak, but only her white lips would move,
And no word came; while eager as the steed
That hears the trumpet call for battle speed
Sat Naisi listening, till the shout again
Filled all the wood. “A mighty man of men,
A man of Erin shouts that shout of pride!”
Glad he exclaimed. “Ah! no, no!” Deirdrè cried,
With voice at length returning,—“No, no, no!
No man of Erin shouts that shout of woe
To us and ours,—a man of Alba cries
His hunting cry!” Now filling all the skies,
The shout a third time came, and then upstood
Naisi, and called strong Ardan from the wood,
And Ainli from the Green, and, “Go,” he said,
Unto the port! Too long have we delayed,
For Fergus calls!”
The air was with sweet scents from wood and plain,
Beneath their trellised home-porch sat the twain,
Naisi and Deirdrè, playing at the chess.
And now no shadow of the old distress
Darkened their looks, for all the memory
Seemed faded of the dreadful days gone by.
From the green wood-skirt came the blithesome sound
Of Ardan's questing with his hawk and hound;
And nigh them, in his gold-hemmed shining gear,
Stood Gaier with Ainli casting of the spear,
And shouting as he struck the targe that lay
Across the Green against a tree-bole gray.
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To think of but our own felicity;
For danger from thy conquering arms hath fled,
And joy triumphant reigns, and grief is dead.
Oh! may our lives for ever shine like this,
With no dark cloud to shadow o'er our bliss,
That we may joyful live and joyful die!”
As thus with flushing cheeks and love-bright eye
She spoke, above the green trees from the shore
With long-drawn stress there came a war-horn's roar,
And following soon rang loud throughout the place
The great cry of a mighty man of chase,
That from the distant hills in dreadful tone
Came echoing back. With one hand on the zone
That bound her waist, the other o'er her heart
Pressed close, sat Deirdrè, with her lips apart
And frightened face wherefrom the chilly dew
Of terror fell, as drops when morn is new
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To speak, but only her white lips would move,
And no word came; while eager as the steed
That hears the trumpet call for battle speed
Sat Naisi listening, till the shout again
Filled all the wood. “A mighty man of men,
A man of Erin shouts that shout of pride!”
Glad he exclaimed. “Ah! no, no!” Deirdrè cried,
With voice at length returning,—“No, no, no!
No man of Erin shouts that shout of woe
To us and ours,—a man of Alba cries
His hunting cry!” Now filling all the skies,
The shout a third time came, and then upstood
Naisi, and called strong Ardan from the wood,
And Ainli from the Green, and, “Go,” he said,
Unto the port! Too long have we delayed,
For Fergus calls!”
And Ardan went. “Too well,”
Then Deirdrè cried, “I knew that shout. Our knell
Of doom it is!” Then Naisi: “O delight
Of our strong hearts, why tell not then?”
Then Deirdrè cried, “I knew that shout. Our knell
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Of our strong hearts, why tell not then?”
“Last night
I dreamt a dream,” she said. “A pleasant dream
At first it was. Across the ocean stream,
And o'er the gray tops of the Alban hills,
Three bright birds came with honey in their bills
From Eman's mansion to our flower-crowned door,
And lit thereon, and spilled their luscious store
Into the drinking-cups that we held there
Beneath them, feasting on our Alban fare,
That bitter seemed, whenas the taste we knew
Of these soul-snaring drops. Then heaven's calm blue,
The greenwood spaces, and the sunny plain
Seemed quivering to the sweet melodious strain
They sang of Eman; then away they bore
To Eman back with three red gouts of gore
Dripping from their bright bills!”
I dreamt a dream,” she said. “A pleasant dream
At first it was. Across the ocean stream,
And o'er the gray tops of the Alban hills,
Three bright birds came with honey in their bills
From Eman's mansion to our flower-crowned door,
And lit thereon, and spilled their luscious store
Into the drinking-cups that we held there
Beneath them, feasting on our Alban fare,
That bitter seemed, whenas the taste we knew
Of these soul-snaring drops. Then heaven's calm blue,
The greenwood spaces, and the sunny plain
Seemed quivering to the sweet melodious strain
They sang of Eman; then away they bore
To Eman back with three red gouts of gore
Dripping from their bright bills!”
“What weird of woe
Read'st thou from this, O Deirdrè?”
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“Well we know,”
Said Deirdrè, “than the honey-drops more sweet
The false man's words are when his stealthy feet
In friendly guise approach his enemy;
And the fair words the King will send to thee
By Fergus, though at first full sweet they seem,
Shall end in bloodshed like my hapless dream!”
Said Deirdrè, “than the honey-drops more sweet
The false man's words are when his stealthy feet
In friendly guise approach his enemy;
And the fair words the King will send to thee
By Fergus, though at first full sweet they seem,
Shall end in bloodshed like my hapless dream!”
Meanwhile tall Ardan through the wildwood way
With heart of gladness sought the sounding bay,
And thence did to their sunny homestead bring
Great Fergus Royson and his following.
Then unto Naisi's eyes the silent tear
Of memory rose, and, “O companions dear!”
He cried aloud, “bright blessings rest upon
Your heads from me, the homeless wandering one
Who longs for his returning day by day!”
Then followed greetings glad and laughter gay
And clasp of hands; and while their kind eyes glowed,
Sweet kisses of fond welcome they bestowed
On Fergus and his sons, and led them in
And feasted them; and 'mid the joyful din
Asked for the news of Erin.
With heart of gladness sought the sounding bay,
And thence did to their sunny homestead bring
Great Fergus Royson and his following.
Then unto Naisi's eyes the silent tear
Of memory rose, and, “O companions dear!”
He cried aloud, “bright blessings rest upon
Your heads from me, the homeless wandering one
Who longs for his returning day by day!”
Then followed greetings glad and laughter gay
201
Sweet kisses of fond welcome they bestowed
On Fergus and his sons, and led them in
And feasted them; and 'mid the joyful din
Asked for the news of Erin.
“News the best,
O friends, I bring; for at the King's behest
I come,” said Fergus, “'neath my guaranty
To bear you back to Eman's halls with me,
Where the King's love awaits you!”
O friends, I bring; for at the King's behest
I come,” said Fergus, “'neath my guaranty
To bear you back to Eman's halls with me,
Where the King's love awaits you!”
“Better far,”
Cried Deirdrè, “here in Alba, where their star
Of fortune, rising, gilds with glorious ray
Their sharp foe-frightening swords, and where their sway
Shall yet spread wider than your King's, and where
We live a joyful life, unknowing care!”
Cried Deirdrè, “here in Alba, where their star
Of fortune, rising, gilds with glorious ray
Their sharp foe-frightening swords, and where their sway
Shall yet spread wider than your King's, and where
We live a joyful life, unknowing care!”
“Alas! alas!” said Fergus, “on a day
When I was young, I ploughed the salt-sea spray
With venturous keel, 'mid bare Faroean isles;
And there, well practised in the woodman's wiles,
I snared a great sea-eagle in his home
On a wild crag, deep scarred by wind and foam,
And on my galley's deck with brazen chain
Bound him; and with all dainties of the main
Fed him, until my cleaving keel of brass
Cut the swarth sands 'neath high Dunevan's Pass
On Erin's shore. My fortress-gate beside
I placed him, and with kingly pomp and pride
Clasped a gold collar round his neck; but aye
He drooped and pined for his cold rock and gray,
And whistling blasts and tumbling surges' boom.
One morn, when mead and wood with summer's bloom
Were bright, and heaven was bright, I passed him by,
And marked his drooping wing and cheerless eye,
And smit with sudden ruth unclasped his chain,
When up into the blue he soared again
With a fierce cry of gladness, and shot forth
On lightning wing to his beloved north,
And barren crags and ever-booming seas!
So with a man! Though all the braveries
And gold and purple and the smiles of kings,
Yea, all the joys of life this fair earth brings,
Reward him in his exile, what are they,
When, waking from his slumbers day by day,
He sees not—heaven or hell, whate'er it be—
The land belov'd of his nativity?”
When I was young, I ploughed the salt-sea spray
202
And there, well practised in the woodman's wiles,
I snared a great sea-eagle in his home
On a wild crag, deep scarred by wind and foam,
And on my galley's deck with brazen chain
Bound him; and with all dainties of the main
Fed him, until my cleaving keel of brass
Cut the swarth sands 'neath high Dunevan's Pass
On Erin's shore. My fortress-gate beside
I placed him, and with kingly pomp and pride
Clasped a gold collar round his neck; but aye
He drooped and pined for his cold rock and gray,
And whistling blasts and tumbling surges' boom.
One morn, when mead and wood with summer's bloom
Were bright, and heaven was bright, I passed him by,
And marked his drooping wing and cheerless eye,
And smit with sudden ruth unclasped his chain,
When up into the blue he soared again
203
On lightning wing to his beloved north,
And barren crags and ever-booming seas!
So with a man! Though all the braveries
And gold and purple and the smiles of kings,
Yea, all the joys of life this fair earth brings,
Reward him in his exile, what are they,
When, waking from his slumbers day by day,
He sees not—heaven or hell, whate'er it be—
The land belov'd of his nativity?”
Then Naisi: “Well thou sayest; for better still
I love my native land, through good and ill,
Than Alba, though our fortune here is great;
And I will go and bide the hand of Fate
Beneath thy friendly guaranty?”
I love my native land, through good and ill,
Than Alba, though our fortune here is great;
And I will go and bide the hand of Fate
Beneath thy friendly guaranty?”
Whereon,
With troublous eyes and face all wild and wan,
Dierdrè burst forth: “Ah me! ah me! ah me!
Ah! woe, woe, woe! What dreadful destiny
Pursues us?” and she cried and sore besought,
Till Fergus Royson, unto madness wrought,
Swore by the Gods and Elements, the Moon,
The silver Stars, and earth-enlivening Sun,
Should every man of Erin turn his face
Against them,—king or peasant, high or base,—
To harm one hair of their bright heads, no mail,
No sword, no targe, no helmet, should avail
To shield the doer of the deed from death
At his right hand!
With troublous eyes and face all wild and wan,
Dierdrè burst forth: “Ah me! ah me! ah me!
Ah! woe, woe, woe! What dreadful destiny
204
Till Fergus Royson, unto madness wrought,
Swore by the Gods and Elements, the Moon,
The silver Stars, and earth-enlivening Sun,
Should every man of Erin turn his face
Against them,—king or peasant, high or base,—
To harm one hair of their bright heads, no mail,
No sword, no targe, no helmet, should avail
To shield the doer of the deed from death
At his right hand!
Ere blew the morning's breath,
That night, with many a shout and trumpetblast,
In joy from their Albanian home they passed,
And, as the sunlight gilt the mountains gray,
Gained the bright port wherein their galleys lay.
There, as at swarming-time, Clonmala's bees
With busy murmur crowd the quivering trees,
The great tribe's sailors from the woodland sward
Sprang to the fleet, and crowded mast and yard,
And gave their white sails to the purple morn
And cool, wave-curling breeze; and, outward borne,
Reached the great ocean-swell, and sped away
For Eman; while with face of wild dismay
Sat Dierdrè on the Osprey's poop, her eyes
Turned to the east and ever-brightening skies
And hill-tops that she never more might see,
And whispered her farewell full mournfully:—
That night, with many a shout and trumpetblast,
In joy from their Albanian home they passed,
And, as the sunlight gilt the mountains gray,
Gained the bright port wherein their galleys lay.
There, as at swarming-time, Clonmala's bees
With busy murmur crowd the quivering trees,
The great tribe's sailors from the woodland sward
Sprang to the fleet, and crowded mast and yard,
205
And cool, wave-curling breeze; and, outward borne,
Reached the great ocean-swell, and sped away
For Eman; while with face of wild dismay
Sat Dierdrè on the Osprey's poop, her eyes
Turned to the east and ever-brightening skies
And hill-tops that she never more might see,
And whispered her farewell full mournfully:—
“O land of gladness in the orient bright,
No more our feet by dell or daisied height
Shall stray 'neath thy warm suns! No more, no more,
We'll sit by Drayno's music-murmuring shore,
Watching the sea-birds and the glancing ships;
Or where in Masan's vale the wild bee sips
The nectar of innumerable flowers,
With joyous hearts beneath the fragrant bowers
Of sylvan woodbine and delightful may,
Full oft we laughed and sang the livelong day;
No more in Daro's wildwood shall we hear
The cuckoo's welcome note resounding clear
From far-off lapses of blue summer air;
Nor yet by Liath's hill-ridge, free from care,
Feast in the moonlight; nor by Orchay's stream
Cull the rathe blossoms; nor where morning's beam
Paints first with gold the pine-tops, shall we see
The youths and maidens in light revelry
Dance at the Beltane time with nimble feet
In Eta's valley, crowned with garlands sweet
As ever bloomed by grove or brooklet strand
Of thy green plains! Farewell! farewell, dear land!”
No more our feet by dell or daisied height
Shall stray 'neath thy warm suns! No more, no more,
We'll sit by Drayno's music-murmuring shore,
Watching the sea-birds and the glancing ships;
Or where in Masan's vale the wild bee sips
The nectar of innumerable flowers,
With joyous hearts beneath the fragrant bowers
Of sylvan woodbine and delightful may,
Full oft we laughed and sang the livelong day;
206
The cuckoo's welcome note resounding clear
From far-off lapses of blue summer air;
Nor yet by Liath's hill-ridge, free from care,
Feast in the moonlight; nor by Orchay's stream
Cull the rathe blossoms; nor where morning's beam
Paints first with gold the pine-tops, shall we see
The youths and maidens in light revelry
Dance at the Beltane time with nimble feet
In Eta's valley, crowned with garlands sweet
As ever bloomed by grove or brooklet strand
Of thy green plains! Farewell! farewell, dear land!”
Then turned she to the westward, weeping sore:
“O home accurst! O dread Ultonian shore,
Why risest thou above the billows bright
To break my heart and blast mine aching sight?
Like a poor bird within the woodman's net
Beating its wings in vain, I strive and fret
'Gainst Fate's stern hand that o'er the wallowing waves
Steers the long ship that bears us to our graves,—
Alas for my belov'd! and woe is me!”
“O home accurst! O dread Ultonian shore,
Why risest thou above the billows bright
To break my heart and blast mine aching sight?
Like a poor bird within the woodman's net
Beating its wings in vain, I strive and fret
207
Steers the long ship that bears us to our graves,—
Alas for my belov'd! and woe is me!”
Now as the next morn's sun full gloriously
Shone on the daisied meads and falling floods
And ferny hills and green Ultonian woods,
The driving keels struck smooth Belfarsad's strand,
And the great tribe in clamor sprung to land,
And with strong Royson's host in loud acclaim
Marched inland, till to Barach's house they came.
And Barach with his ancient face of guile
Came forth and welcomed them with many a smile
And many a kiss of falsehood; and he said,
“Fair is the feast, O Fergus, I have spread
In this my house, and all for thy delight!
And now I charge thee, by thy hand! O knight,
Refuse not, that thy solemn vow remain
Unbroken, from no revel to abstain
Given by a man of thine own high degree!”
And Fergus heard dismayed, and doubtfully
Looked on the sons of Usna, while the glow
Of shame upon his bronzed face seemed to show
Red as the light upon Bengara's crown
In summer when the crimson sun goes down.
“Ill are the words thou sayest, and ill the deed
Thou doest, O Barach, in mine hour of need!”
Stern he replied, “for Usna's sons have sworn
No food to taste, or be it night or morn,
Landing, until they sit the King beside!”
“I charge thee on thy vow,” then Barach cried,
“To feast with me!” And Fergus still blood-red
With shame turned unto Naisi, “By thy head!
O Naisi, here this tangled knot thou see'st.
What wouldst thou do with Barach and his feast?”
Shone on the daisied meads and falling floods
And ferny hills and green Ultonian woods,
The driving keels struck smooth Belfarsad's strand,
And the great tribe in clamor sprung to land,
And with strong Royson's host in loud acclaim
Marched inland, till to Barach's house they came.
And Barach with his ancient face of guile
Came forth and welcomed them with many a smile
And many a kiss of falsehood; and he said,
“Fair is the feast, O Fergus, I have spread
In this my house, and all for thy delight!
And now I charge thee, by thy hand! O knight,
Refuse not, that thy solemn vow remain
Unbroken, from no revel to abstain
208
And Fergus heard dismayed, and doubtfully
Looked on the sons of Usna, while the glow
Of shame upon his bronzed face seemed to show
Red as the light upon Bengara's crown
In summer when the crimson sun goes down.
“Ill are the words thou sayest, and ill the deed
Thou doest, O Barach, in mine hour of need!”
Stern he replied, “for Usna's sons have sworn
No food to taste, or be it night or morn,
Landing, until they sit the King beside!”
“I charge thee on thy vow,” then Barach cried,
“To feast with me!” And Fergus still blood-red
With shame turned unto Naisi, “By thy head!
O Naisi, here this tangled knot thou see'st.
What wouldst thou do with Barach and his feast?”
“Thy choice thou hast to shun the revel gay
In Barach's house, or basely to betray
Thy guaranty!”
In Barach's house, or basely to betray
Thy guaranty!”
209
“But I betray it not,”
Cried Fergus, “for my brave sons I allot,
Illan and Buinè, unto Eman's hall
To be thy safeguard; and should, one and all,
The states of Erin rise to work thee ill,
Full strong enough are they to guard thee still!”
Cried Fergus, “for my brave sons I allot,
Illan and Buinè, unto Eman's hall
To be thy safeguard; and should, one and all,
The states of Erin rise to work thee ill,
Full strong enough are they to guard thee still!”
“Feast then with Barach,” Naisi said, “and we—
We care not. Through the dust-cloud we marched free
Of battle many a day, with nought but these
Our good swords in our hands as guaranties
Of safety, and be sure we fear not now!”
We care not. Through the dust-cloud we marched free
Of battle many a day, with nought but these
Our good swords in our hands as guaranties
Of safety, and be sure we fear not now!”
And with fierce eyes and stern contracted brow
He strode away, fast followed by his host
And Fergus' sons. As when on some wild coast,
Barren of home and fruit and all things green,
A wretch is cast, who erst the chief had been
Of a tall ship, and sees his sails again
Spread to the winds by his rebellious men
And the hull sinking o'er the surge; with gaze
Wistful he eyes them through the seaward haze,
And his heart beats with throbs of unknown pain:
So Fergus felt as the long glittering train
Of the two hosts passed on, and from his sight
Was hidden by the ferny mountain height.
He strode away, fast followed by his host
And Fergus' sons. As when on some wild coast,
Barren of home and fruit and all things green,
A wretch is cast, who erst the chief had been
210
Spread to the winds by his rebellious men
And the hull sinking o'er the surge; with gaze
Wistful he eyes them through the seaward haze,
And his heart beats with throbs of unknown pain:
So Fergus felt as the long glittering train
Of the two hosts passed on, and from his sight
Was hidden by the ferny mountain height.
As nigh the noontide in a shady place
From their hot speed they rested for a space,
Said Deirdrè, “Husband, hearken unto me,
And turn to strong Dunseverick by the sea
'Neath Conal Carna's ward, and there remain
Till Fergus from the feast come back again,
For well I know with secret sword doth wait
Death for our coming to fair Eman's gate!”
Then Naisi: “Love, what sudden weird is thine?
Once thou didst speak but witching words divine
Of blithesome cheer: now nought for aye will flow
From thy sweet mouth but prophecies of woe!
Be sure no doomful words, no prophecy,
Can turn us from our fate, whate'er it be,
Or good or ill; and we must journey on
Unto the end!”
From their hot speed they rested for a space,
Said Deirdrè, “Husband, hearken unto me,
And turn to strong Dunseverick by the sea
'Neath Conal Carna's ward, and there remain
Till Fergus from the feast come back again,
For well I know with secret sword doth wait
Death for our coming to fair Eman's gate!”
Then Naisi: “Love, what sudden weird is thine?
Once thou didst speak but witching words divine
211
From thy sweet mouth but prophecies of woe!
Be sure no doomful words, no prophecy,
Can turn us from our fate, whate'er it be,
Or good or ill; and we must journey on
Unto the end!”
Then Illan Fergusson
Cried out in anger: “Small the trust, O Queen,
Thou'st gotten in the swords we draw between
Thyself and danger, even though by our side
The sons of Usna stood not glorified
By their high deeds; while our sire's plighted faith
Stands firm to shield thee from all wrong and scathe.
What need'st thou more?”
Cried out in anger: “Small the trust, O Queen,
Thou'st gotten in the swords we draw between
Thyself and danger, even though by our side
The sons of Usna stood not glorified
By their high deeds; while our sire's plighted faith
Stands firm to shield thee from all wrong and scathe.
What need'st thou more?”
But she still comfortless
Cried out, lamenting in her sore distress:
“Alas! alas! alas! the day of doom
We left fair Alba and our isle of bloom!
Alas! my heart with grief instinctive breaks,
And bleeds with ceaseless weeping for their sakes,
My well-belov'd. Ah! why did Fergus come
Like a fell blight upon our pleasant home,
With honeyed words our happiness to slay,
And broken faith his victims to betray
Unto the raging King, whose dreadful net
Of wrath and guile for our poor lives is set?—
Alas! alas! the hour that I was born!”
Cried out, lamenting in her sore distress:
“Alas! alas! alas! the day of doom
We left fair Alba and our isle of bloom!
Alas! my heart with grief instinctive breaks,
And bleeds with ceaseless weeping for their sakes,
212
Like a fell blight upon our pleasant home,
With honeyed words our happiness to slay,
And broken faith his victims to betray
Unto the raging King, whose dreadful net
Of wrath and guile for our poor lives is set?—
Alas! alas! the hour that I was born!”
Now from the level fields of waving corn
Again the hosts bright glancing wound, until
They came to Fincarn's watch-tower on the hill,—
The wild, wind-whistling, far-seen Hill of Foad.
And there as Naisi down the pathway trode
And sought his wife and found her not, aback
He turned along the loud-resounding track,
And saw her weeping by the watch-tower stern,
On the green grass amid the waving fern.
And, “Why delayest thou?” asked he, tenderly.
“A dream,” she cried, “O love, that came to me,
While here I slept. Methought with Gaier I stood
Upon a green space all besprent with blood,
And strewn with many a corse; and thou wert there,
Ainli and Ardan, and the champion fair,
Young Illan, on the bloody sward laid low,
Headless, while Buinè in the level glow
Of the descending sun stood glittering
Safe in his battle harness by the King,
Who looked on us with dread triumphant eye.
Ah! woe is me! our hour of death is nigh.
Woe for brave Illan, and the gentle Three
With whom I traversed many a land and sea
In ceaseless danger, feeling naught but joy!
And woe for thee, my hapless little boy!”
Again the hosts bright glancing wound, until
They came to Fincarn's watch-tower on the hill,—
The wild, wind-whistling, far-seen Hill of Foad.
And there as Naisi down the pathway trode
And sought his wife and found her not, aback
He turned along the loud-resounding track,
And saw her weeping by the watch-tower stern,
On the green grass amid the waving fern.
And, “Why delayest thou?” asked he, tenderly.
“A dream,” she cried, “O love, that came to me,
213
Upon a green space all besprent with blood,
And strewn with many a corse; and thou wert there,
Ainli and Ardan, and the champion fair,
Young Illan, on the bloody sward laid low,
Headless, while Buinè in the level glow
Of the descending sun stood glittering
Safe in his battle harness by the King,
Who looked on us with dread triumphant eye.
Ah! woe is me! our hour of death is nigh.
Woe for brave Illan, and the gentle Three
With whom I traversed many a land and sea
In ceaseless danger, feeling naught but joy!
And woe for thee, my hapless little boy!”
And now unto Ardsalla's height they came,
And Deirdrè with her wondrous eyes aflame,
Like a weird prophetess, cried, “Woe! woe! woe!
O Naisi, see o'er Eman's towers below
Yon cloud terrific hang of crimson stain,
Dripping through lurid air its dreadful rain
Of gore-drops, till all things beneath are red!
O Naisi, stay! Oh, mark this wonder dread,
And flee to strong Dun Dalgan, and abide
Within its lordly halls of power and pride
With brave Cuhullin till the feast is o'er!
Ah, woe is me! yon fearful cloud of gore,
Yon freezing, baleful portent of the air,
I speak and breathe in blood while it hangs there!
Thou fleest not! Then to Mananan I pray,—
Lord of the crystal-gleaming realm of spray,
Since here no human heart can heed my moan,
I call on thee! Rise from thine azure throne
Beneath the blue-sky-mirroring, changeful mead
Of ocean limitless, and in my need
Hear thou my call, if e'er in other days
Of joy and dawning love I sang thy praise
To sound of harp and ear-bewitching lute!
Arise, O Mananan, with voice not mute
Of warning, my belov'd ones to restrain
From their destruction! Ah! in vain, in vain,
I call and cry to thee for pitying ruth!
Yet think,—bethink thee of my girlish youth,
My palace fair, my garden all agleam
With many-tinted blooms, my joyous stream
That like a living prayer with melody
Of many songs went murmuring on to thee,
Freighted each morn and evening's dewy hours
By these poor hands with wreaths of votive flowers
For thy delight, Lord of the crystal caves
And pearl-paved mansions 'neath the world of waves!
Then hear my cry, the wailing groans that start
Of agony from out my breaking heart,
And turn my lov'd ones from the dreadful snare!”
And Deirdrè with her wondrous eyes aflame,
Like a weird prophetess, cried, “Woe! woe! woe!
O Naisi, see o'er Eman's towers below
214
Dripping through lurid air its dreadful rain
Of gore-drops, till all things beneath are red!
O Naisi, stay! Oh, mark this wonder dread,
And flee to strong Dun Dalgan, and abide
Within its lordly halls of power and pride
With brave Cuhullin till the feast is o'er!
Ah, woe is me! yon fearful cloud of gore,
Yon freezing, baleful portent of the air,
I speak and breathe in blood while it hangs there!
Thou fleest not! Then to Mananan I pray,—
Lord of the crystal-gleaming realm of spray,
Since here no human heart can heed my moan,
I call on thee! Rise from thine azure throne
Beneath the blue-sky-mirroring, changeful mead
Of ocean limitless, and in my need
Hear thou my call, if e'er in other days
Of joy and dawning love I sang thy praise
215
Arise, O Mananan, with voice not mute
Of warning, my belov'd ones to restrain
From their destruction! Ah! in vain, in vain,
I call and cry to thee for pitying ruth!
Yet think,—bethink thee of my girlish youth,
My palace fair, my garden all agleam
With many-tinted blooms, my joyous stream
That like a living prayer with melody
Of many songs went murmuring on to thee,
Freighted each morn and evening's dewy hours
By these poor hands with wreaths of votive flowers
For thy delight, Lord of the crystal caves
And pearl-paved mansions 'neath the world of waves!
Then hear my cry, the wailing groans that start
Of agony from out my breaking heart,
And turn my lov'd ones from the dreadful snare!”
Even as she spoke, a breath of gentle air
Blew from the sea-side cliffs and fanned away
The gore-cloud from before her eyes, and gay
The sun shone out o'er plain and willowy height,
And flags and spears and strong battalions bright
Of the two hosts, that now 'gan moving down
At Naisi's word to the King's shining town.
And Deirdrè as she went still weeping prayed,
But no protecting hand her lov'd ones stayed;
And her heart sank within her, till her gaze
Amid the spearmen marked a harness blaze
Upon a mighty Man, who held a spear
In his right hand, bedecked with golden gear
Of rings and studs. A comely face he had,
And wise bright eyes that made the heart feel glad
Where'er they smiled, as he strode stately on
With gait and look familiar, yet unknown.
And as the archers passed, a man went by
Amidst them with a gray, soul-piercing eye,
And belt and quiver filled with many a shaft,
And mighty bow that all with silver laughed
O'er his green-tunicked shoulder; and once more
Amongst the trumpeters a man who bore
A wondrous brazen trumpet in his hand
Adown the pathway strode, as who would stand
Swelling his round red cheeks to blow a blast
Would wake the wide world's dead. Again there passed
With buskined feet, light as the swallow's wing
That skims the green meads in the flowery spring,
Along the way another glorious one,
Amidst the heralds; gay his tabard shone
From twisted torc to tasselled crimson hem
With many a golden thread and glittering gem.
And Deirdrè marked these last as they went by
Look on their lord the Spearman furtively
From time to time with pleasant looks, and said
Unto herself, “Be sure my prayer hath sped,
And all my wailing with kind pity stirs
His heart, who sends in these his messengers,
Or comes himself; for surely this must be,
Yon Spearman bold, the Shaker of the sea!”
216
The gore-cloud from before her eyes, and gay
The sun shone out o'er plain and willowy height,
And flags and spears and strong battalions bright
Of the two hosts, that now 'gan moving down
At Naisi's word to the King's shining town.
And Deirdrè as she went still weeping prayed,
But no protecting hand her lov'd ones stayed;
And her heart sank within her, till her gaze
Amid the spearmen marked a harness blaze
Upon a mighty Man, who held a spear
In his right hand, bedecked with golden gear
Of rings and studs. A comely face he had,
And wise bright eyes that made the heart feel glad
Where'er they smiled, as he strode stately on
With gait and look familiar, yet unknown.
And as the archers passed, a man went by
Amidst them with a gray, soul-piercing eye,
And belt and quiver filled with many a shaft,
And mighty bow that all with silver laughed
217
Amongst the trumpeters a man who bore
A wondrous brazen trumpet in his hand
Adown the pathway strode, as who would stand
Swelling his round red cheeks to blow a blast
Would wake the wide world's dead. Again there passed
With buskined feet, light as the swallow's wing
That skims the green meads in the flowery spring,
Along the way another glorious one,
Amidst the heralds; gay his tabard shone
From twisted torc to tasselled crimson hem
With many a golden thread and glittering gem.
And Deirdrè marked these last as they went by
Look on their lord the Spearman furtively
From time to time with pleasant looks, and said
Unto herself, “Be sure my prayer hath sped,
And all my wailing with kind pity stirs
His heart, who sends in these his messengers,
218
Yon Spearman bold, the Shaker of the sea!”
Said Deirdrè, as they came to Eman's gate,
“O sons of Usna, heedless of your fate,
List to my words of warning, last of all:
If the King, manful in his own bright hall,
Feast you with Eman's nobles, kind and fair
Your welcome is; but, if he bid you share
The banquet in the Red Branch House, then nought
Can save you from the fell snare he hath wrought,
Save valor and the keen edge of the sword!”
“O sons of Usna, heedless of your fate,
List to my words of warning, last of all:
If the King, manful in his own bright hall,
Feast you with Eman's nobles, kind and fair
Your welcome is; but, if he bid you share
The banquet in the Red Branch House, then nought
Can save you from the fell snare he hath wrought,
Save valor and the keen edge of the sword!”
“What boots it now, or cry or warning word?
Come joy or grief, come sweet or bitter bread,
We'll take what fortune sends us!” Naisi said.
And then he bade the trumpet sound. Whereon
Out from the ranks stepped forth that stranger One
With the broad face and ruddy, and on high
Raised his great trumpet toward the sunlit sky,
Puffing his cheeks the while, and blew a call,
Like a wild storm, that shook the ancient wall.
Then forth from out the heralds' place the man
Of the gay tabard and the light foot ran,
And in his grasp the bossy hand-wood took,
And on the door three strokes of thunder strook;
And, with a loud voice as the clarion clear,
Called through the porch, “The sons of Usna here!”
Come joy or grief, come sweet or bitter bread,
We'll take what fortune sends us!” Naisi said.
And then he bade the trumpet sound. Whereon
Out from the ranks stepped forth that stranger One
With the broad face and ruddy, and on high
Raised his great trumpet toward the sunlit sky,
219
Like a wild storm, that shook the ancient wall.
Then forth from out the heralds' place the man
Of the gay tabard and the light foot ran,
And in his grasp the bossy hand-wood took,
And on the door three strokes of thunder strook;
And, with a loud voice as the clarion clear,
Called through the porch, “The sons of Usna here!”
| Deirdrae | |