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Deirdre

The Feis Ceoil Prize cantata: Dublin 1897: The words by T. W. Rolleston: With an illustration by Althea Gyles, and initial letters, headpieces, and tailpieces by N. Baxter, Helen Hay, and John Duncan

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DEIRDRE.

I. Part I.

CHORUS.

A blind hand sowed the seed of Fate—
The black earth bred it,
The kind rains fed it;
And branch on branch and leaf on leaf
It flourished and waxed great.
Glory the fruit it bore, and Love, and Grief.

NARRATIVE.

Deep in the trackless forest
With one grey nurse to guard her,
Conor the High King fostered
Deirdre to be his bride.
Fair in her starry childhood,
Fairer the stately maiden,
Tender and single-hearted,
Friend of the sylvan Powers.
The Oak tree bade her be fearless,
The Pine tree bade her be faithful,
She played with the mountain streamlet,
She tamed the woodland fawn.
And when in the summer evenings
She climbed to the Peak of Vision
That soared from the sea of woodland
And looked to the crimson West,

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Then, as the white stars glimmered,
Then, as the airs of evening
Waked in the dreaming woodland
Voices of vague desire,
Her young heart throbbed with longing,
Longing she could not utter,
And only the stars of heaven
Knew of her lonely pain.

NARRATIVE.

Who roams the wood with bow and spear?
With flying foot and eager eye?
'Tis Naisi, Chief of Usna's clan,
And flower of Uladh's chivalry.
Too fierce he followed and too far
The wild boar's track to that dim place
Where with her ancient warder grey
Fair Deirdre hid her ripening grace.
Now bleeding from the deadly strife
He seeks her guarded gate to win,—
Two women's hearts grow soft in ruth,
They bear the sinking form within.
Two young hearts, knit in interchange
Of gratitude and kindly aid,—
Soon, soon in Love's strong toil are ta'en
The princely youth, the lovely maid.
Conor, a cry is in thy hall!
“King Conor, hark—thy bride is fled!
Far hence, beyond the tides of Moyle,
Fair Deirdre is with Naisi wed!”
The youthful King with aged eyes,
He stared in silence for a while;
Then on his fixèd features grew
The shadow of a bitter smile.

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“A jewel fell from Uladh's crown
When Deirdre with her lover fled—
The stolen splendour yet may sear
The brow that wears it,” Conor said.

CHORUS.

The seed of Fate, the seed of Fate—
The bitter root
The tender shoot—
It grows, and through its branches run
Whispers of Wrath and Hate,
And kingdoms overthrown and mighty wars begun.

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II. Part II.

Scene: by Loch Etive in Scotland.
DEIRDRE.
O Naisi, to our island home,
So far away,
Doth yet thy restless spirit roam,
Thy memory stray?
Gladly I fled across the foam
And evermore
Gladly would dwell by this fair shore.

NAISI.
Fair, fair wild Alba's hills I deem,
And fair this silver lake.
The red deer drinks the mountain stream,
The boar is in the brake.
But 'tis a fairer, nobler sight
In Erin by the sea,
The Red Branch banners waving wide
O'er Uladh's chivalry.

DEIRDRE.
Love, when on summer nights we hear
The pinewoods sigh,
Or floating on the evening air
The wood-dove's cry,
Then, then I know how vain it were
In words to tell
The peace and joy that in me dwell.


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NAISI.
Deirdre, whate'er the gods intend,
Unparted may we be;
One gift alone I pray them send,
One fate for thee and me.
Where'er thou art is Naisi's home,
Or in this lonely glen,
Or should our footsteps roam
To seek the world of men.

A Voice
(distant):
A Naisi!

NAISI.
Hark, Deirdre, from yon western height
Who called my name? heard I aright?

DEIRDRE.
Nay, Love, 'twas but some wild bird cried,
Or wandering shepherd who would guide
His flock along the mountain side.

The Voice
(nearer):
A Naisi!

NAISI.
Again that cry—the same, the same!
A man of Erin calls my name
And all my pulses leap to hear.

DEIRDRE.
'Tis but our herdsman come to tell
How in some green and shadowy dell
He found at noon the crouching deer.

The Voice
(close at hand):
A Naisi!


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NAISI.
O noble heart, O comrade true!
My heart runs o'er with joy—
The staunchest friend man ever knew—
'Tis Fergus, son of Roy!

FERGUS.
Hail, friend and comrade! Deirdre hail!
Ambassador from Uladh's King
For Alba's shore I set my sail
A message of goodwill to bring:
Peace, peace to Deirdre and to thee,
Peace and forgiveness, full and free.
Conor the bride he ne'er possessed
Abandons to her chosen Lord.
Naisi, we miss thee at the feast,
And Uladh calls for Naisi's sword,
Where, on her frontiers, men have seen
The watch fires of the Connacht Queen.
Naisi, restore thy banished race,
Come with thy brethren—come, to save,
The flash of Usna's sword shall chase
Like startled birds the host of Maev.
Then, peace and love, an honoured name,
And Uladh ringing with thy fame!

DEIRDRE.
Naisi, Naisi, false the message!
Heed it not—a fatal presage
Daunts me, and a nameless fear.

NAISI.
Not for all the realm of Conor
On a mission of dishonour
Would the son of Roy be here.


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DEIRDRE.
Whom hath Conor ever pardoned?
Young his heart, but not so hardened
Is the steel that he doth wear.
When he seeks in twain to rend us
Who shall rescue, who befriend us?
Can a single arm defend us?
Spurn, oh spurn the fatal snare!

FERGUS.
Deirdre, in mine arm, though single,
Shall the might of myriads mingle
When it strikes for broken faith.
Conor knows, to their foundation
Can it shake his throne and nation,
Blast his fields with desolation,
Fill his halls with blood and death.

NAISI.
Deirdre, dreams shall not appal us.
Hence, oh hence! whate'er befall us,
Not in vain shall Uladh call us—
Be it as King Conor saith.

DEIRDRE
(alone).
Farewell, O serene glen,
Our bright home endearing.
The high sun loved the green glen
That we shall see no more.
The sun, in his wheeling,
At morn reappearing,
Shall mock the empty sheiling
Beside the lonely shore.
Where Love calls, I follow,
'Twixt hoping and fearing,
But oh, my hope is hollow,
And oh, my heart is sore.

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The bright days are over,
The dark days are nearing,
And Deirdre and her lover
Depart for evermore.


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III. Part III.

Scene: before the Hostel of the Red Branch in Emain Macha.

NARRATIVE

The sun upriseth in fruitful Erin,
His glory gleaming on wood and lawn.
The painted Dûns in the royal city
Are brightly lit in the rosy dawn.
But from the roof of the Red Branch Hostel
The black smoke rolls to the summer sky,
And there the last of the Clan of Usna
Are grimly mustered to fight and die.
The night is over—the night of battle,
Of wrath and anguish and wild despair.
And Fergus lingers, the frank and kindly,
His bold eyes blinded in Conor's snare.
The last, last onset is now advancing,
A rain of lances, a storm of blows.
Like pines in tempest the sons of Usna
Go down loud-crashing among their foes.
Still, at last, is the roar of battle,
And Conor stands in the morning red,
And gazes silent with old eyes weary
On Deirdre kneeling among her dead.

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DEIRDRE.
O Sword of Naisi, ancient friend,
Deal yet one blow, the last and best;
And Deirdre to her lover send
To share his endless rest.
The Lions from the hill are gone
The Dragons from the cave are fled,
The Eagles from the rock have flown,
The Mother wails her dead.
O Sons of Usna, kind and brave,
Your glory shone from sea to sea.
Would I were lying in my grave
Ere you had died for me.
O Ye, who pay to each his due,
Have vengeance for this deed of bale
Upon the traitor King who slew
The noblest of the Gael.
From age to age let glory grow
Upon the fierce avenging hand
That heaps the measure of its woe
Upon an impious land.
The Lions from the hill are fled,
The Eagles from the rock have flown,
Soon, soon I join my sacred dead,
And go where they have gone.
For Usna's sons make wide the tomb,
O dig the grave both deep and wide,
Where Deirdre till the day of doom
Shall sleep at Naisi's side.


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CHORUS.

A blind hand sowed the seed of Fate—
The black earth bred it,
The kind rains fed it,
And branch on branch and leaf on leaf
It flourished and waxed great.
Passion the fruit it bore, and Wrong, and Grief.
And in the glory of its prime
From that dark seed
Sprang many a golden deed
Blooming in deathless flower of song and tale,
And shining for all time
To light the story of the island Gael.