Cuchulain, and to all others beside; and Cuchulain rose up, and he
passed his hand over his face, and he greeted Laeg brightly, and his
mind was strengthened within him for the news that the lad had brought
him.
[At this point occurs the break in the story indicated in the preface,
and the description of the Bull-Feast at which Lugaid Red-Stripes is
elected king over all Ireland; also the exhortation that Cuchulain,
supposed to be lying on his sick-bed, gives to Lugaid as to the duties
of a king. After this insertion, which has no real connection with the
story, the story itself proceeds, but from another point, for the
thread is taken up at the place where Cuchulain has indeed awaked from
his trance, but is still on his sick-bed; the message of Angus appears
to have been given, but Cuchulain does not seem to have met Liban for
the second time, nor to have sent Laeg to inquire. Ethne has
disappeared as an actor from the scene; her place is taken by Emer,
Cuchulain's real wife; and the whole style of the romance so alters for
the better that, even if it were not for the want of agreement of the
two versions, we could see that we have here two tales founded upon the
same legend but by two different hands, the end of the first and the
beginning of the second alike missing, and the gap filled in by the
story of the election of Lugaid.
Now as to Cuchulain it has to be related thus: He called upon Laeg to
come to him; and "Do thou go, O Laeg!" said Cuchulain, "to the place
where Emer is; and say to her that women of the fairies have come upon
me, and that they have destroyed my strength; and say also to her that
it goeth better with me from hour to hour, and bid her to come and seek
me;" and the young man Laeg then spoke these words in order to hearten
the mind of Cuchulain:
It fits not heroes lying
On sick-bed in a sickly sleep to dream:
Witches before thee flying
Of Trogach's fiery Plain the dwellers seem:
They have beat down thy strength,
Made thee captive at length,
And in womanish folly away have they driven thee far.
Arise! no more be sickly!
Shake off the weakness by those fairies sent:
For from thee parteth quickly
Thy strength that for the chariot-chiefs was meant:
Thou crouchest, like a youth!
Art thou subdued, in truth?
Have they shaken thy prowess and deeds that were meet for the war
Yet Labra's power hath sent his message plain:
Rise, thou that crouchest: and be great again.
And Laeg, after that heartening, departed; and he went on until he came
to the place where Emer was; and he told her of the state of Cuchulain:
"Ill hath it been what thou hast done, O youth!" she said; "for
although thou art known as one who dost wander in the lands where the
fairies dwell; yet no virtue of healing hast thou found there and
brought for the cure of thy lord. Shame upon the men of Ulster!" she
said, "for they have not sought to do a great deed, and to heal him.
Yet, had Conor thus been fettered; had it been Fergus who had lost his
sleep, had it been Conall the Victorious to whom wounds had been dealt,
Cuchulain would have saved them." And she then sang a song, and in
this fashion she sang it:
Laeg! who oft the fairy hill[FN#31]
Searchest, slack I find thee still;
Lovely Dechtire's son shouldst thou
By thy zeal have healed ere now.
Ulster, though for bounties famed,
Foster-sire and friends are shamed:
None hath deemed Cuchulain worth
One full journey through the earth.
Yet, if sleep on Fergus fell,
Such that magic arts dispel,
Dechtire's son had restless rode
Till a Druid raised that load.
Aye, had Conall come from wars,
Weak with wounds and recent scars;
All the world our Hound would scour
Till he found a healing power.
Were it Laegaire[FN#32] war had pressed,
Erin's meads would know no rest,
Till, made whole from wounds, he won
Mach's grandchild, Conna's son.
Had thus crafty Celthar slept,
Long, like him, by sickness kept;
Through the elf-mounds, night and day,
Would our Hound, to heal him, stray.
Furbaid, girt by heroes strong,
Were it he had lain thus long;
Ah! our Hound would rescue bear
Though through solid earth he fare.
[FN#31] The metre of these verses is that of the Irish.
[FN#32] Pronounced Leary.
All the elves of Troom[FN#33] seem dead;
All their mighty deeds have fled;
For their Hound, who hounds surpassed,
Elves have bound in slumber fast.
Ah! on me thy sickness swerves,
Hound of Smith who Conor serves!
Sore my heart, my flesh must be:
May thy cure be wrought by me.
Ah! 'tis blood my heart that stains,
Sick for him who rode the plains:
Though his land be decked for feast,
He to seek its plain hath ceased.
He in Emain still delays;
'Tis those Shapes the bar that raise:
Weak my voice is, dead its tone,
He in evil form is shown.
Month-long, year-long watch I keep;
Seasons pass, I know not sleep:
Men's sweet speech strikes not mine ear;
Naught, Riangabra's[FN#34] son, I hear.
[FN#33] Spelt Truim.
[FN#34] Pronounced Reen-gabra.
And, after that she had sung that song, Emer went forward to Emain that
she might seek for Cuchulain; and she seated herself in the chamber
where Cuchulain was, and thus she addressed him: "Shame upon thee!" she
said, "to lie thus prostrate for a woman's love! well may this long
sickbed of thine cause thee to ail!" And it was in this fashion that
she addressed him, and she chanted this lay:
Stand up, O thou hero of Ulster!
Wake from sleep! rise up, joyful and sound!
Look on Conor the king! on my beauty,
Will that loose not those slumbers profound?
See the Ulstermen's clear shining shoulders!
Hear their trumpets that call to the fight!
See their war-cars that sweep through the valleys,
As in hero-chess, leaping each knight.
See their chiefs, and the strength that adorns them,
Their tall maidens, so stately with grace;
The swift kings, springing on to the battle,
The great queens of the Ulstermen's race!
The clear winter but now is beginning;
Lo! the wonder of cold that hangs there!
'Tis a sight that should warn thee; how chilly!
Of what length I yet of colour how bare!
This long slumber is ill; it decays thee:
'Tis like "milk for the full" the saw saith
Hard is war with fatigue; deadly weakness
Is a Prince who stands second to Death.
Wake! 'tis joy for the sodden, this slumber;
Throw it off with a great glowing heat:
Sweet-voiced friends for thee wait in great number:
Ulster's champion! stand up on thy feet!
And Cuchulain at her word stood up; and he passed his hand over his
face, and he cast all his heaviness and his weariness away from him,
and then he arose, and went on his way before him until he came to the
enclosure that he sought; and in that enclosure Liban appeared to him.
And Liban spoke to him, and she strove to lead him into the fairy hill;
but "What place is that in which Labraid dwelleth?" said Cuchulain. It
is easy for me to tell thee!" she said:
Labra's home's a pure lake, whither
Troops of women come and go;
Easy paths shall lead thee thither,
Where thou shalt swift Labra know.
Hundreds his skilled arm repelleth;
Wise be they his deeds who speak:
Look where rosy beauty dwelleth;
Like to that think Labra's cheek.
Head of wolf, for gore that thirsteth,
Near his thin red falchion shakes;
Shields that cloak the chiefs he bursteth,
Arms of foolish foes he breaks.
Trust of friend he aye requiteth,
Scarred his skin, like bloodshot eye;
First of fairy men he fighteth;
Thousands, by him smitten, die.
Chiefs at Echaid[FN#35] Juil's name tremble;
Yet his land-strange tale-he sought,
He whose locks gold threads resemble,
With whose breath wine-scents are brought.
More than all strife-seekers noted,
Fiercely to far lands he rides;
Steeds have trampled, skiffs have floated
Near the isle where he abides.
Labra, swift Sword-Wielder, gaineth
Fame for actions over sea;
Sleep for all his watch sustaineth!
Sure no coward hound is he.
The chains on the necks of the coursers he rides,
And their bridles are ruddy with gold:
He hath columns of crystal and silver besides,
The roof of his house to uphold.
[FN#35] Pronounced, apparently, Ech-ay, the ch like the sound in
"loch."
"I will not go thither at a woman's call," said Cuchulain. "Let Laeg
then go," said the lady, "and let him bring to thee tidings of all that
is there." "Let him depart, then," said Cuchulain; and Laeg rose up
and departed with Liban, and they came to the Plain of Speech, and to
the Tree of Triumphs, and over the festal plain of Emain, and over the
festal plain of Fidga, and in that place was Aed Abra, and with him his
daughters.
Then Fand bade welcome to Laeg, and "How is it," said she, "that
Cuchulain hath not come with thee?" "It pleased him not," said Laeg,
"to come at a woman's call; moreover, he desired to know whether it was
indeed from thee that had come the message, and to have full knowledge
of everything." "It was indeed from me that the message was sent," she
said; "and let now Cuchulain come swiftly to seek us, for it is for
to-day that the strife is set." Then Laeg went back to the place where
he had left Cuchulain, and Liban with him; and "How appeareth this
quest to thee, O Laeg?" said Cuchulain. And Laeg answering said, "In a
happy hour shalt thou go," said he, "for the battle is set for to-day;"
and it was in this manner that he spake, and he recited thus:
I went gaily through regions,
Though strange, seen before:
By his cairn found I Labra,
A cairn for a score.
There sat yellow-haired Labra,
His spears round him rolled;
His long bright locks well gathered
Round apple of gold.
On my five-folded purple
His glance at length fell,
And he said, "Come and enter
Where Failbe doth dwell."
In one house dwells white Failbe,
With Labra, his friend;
And retainers thrice fifty
Each monarch attend.
On the right, couches fifty,
Where fifty men rest;
On the left, fifty couches
By men's weight oppressed.
For each couch copper frontings,
Posts golden, and white;
And a rich flashing jewel
As torch, gives them light.
Near that house, to the westward,
Where sunlight sinks down,
Stand grey steeds, with manes dappled
And steeds purple-brown.
On its east side are standing
Three bright purple trees
Whence the birds' songs, oft ringing
The king's children please.
From a tree in the fore-court
Sweet harmony streams;
It stands silver, yet sunlit
With gold's glitter gleams.
Sixty trees' swaying summits
Now meet, now swing wide;
Rindless food for thrice hundred
Each drops at its side.
Near a well by that palace
Gay cloaks spread out lie,
Each with splendid gold fastening
Well hooked through its eye.
They who dwell there, find flowing
A vat of glad ale:
'Tis ordained that for ever
That vat shall not fail.
From the hall steps a lady
Well gifted, and fair:
None is like her in Erin;
Like gold is her hair.
And so sweet, and so wondrous
Her words from her fall,
That with love and with longing
She breaks hearts of all.
"Who art thou?" said that lady,
"For strange thou art here;
But if Him of Murthemne
Thou servest, draw near."
Slowly, slowly I neared her;
I feared for my fame:
And she said, "Comes he hither,
Of Dechtire who came?"
Ah! long since, for thy healing,
Thou there shouldst have gone,
And have viewed that great palace
Before me that shone.
Though I ruled all of Erin
And yellow Breg's hill,
I'd give all, no small trial,
To know that land still.
"The quest then is a good one?" said Cuchulain. "It is goodly indeed,"
said Laeg, "and it is right that thou shouldest go to attain it, and
all things in that land are good." And thus further also spoke Laeg,
as he told of the loveliness of the fairy dwelling:
I saw a land of noble form and splendid,
Where dwells naught evil; none can speak a lie:
There stands the king, by all his hosts attended,
Brown Labra, swift to sword his hand can fly.
We crossed the Plain of Speech, our steps arrested
Near to that Tree, whose branches triumphs bear;
At length upon the hill-crowned plain we rested,
And saw the Double-Headed Serpent's lair.
Then Liban said, as we that mount sat under:
"Would I could see--'twould be a marvel strange--
Yet, if I saw it, dear would be that wonder,
if to Cuchulain's form thy form could change."
Great is the beauty of Aed Abra's daughters,
Unfettered men before them conquered fall;
Fand's beauty stuns, like sound of rushing waters,
Before her splendour kings and queens seem small.
Though I confess, as from the wise ones hearing,
That Adam's race was once unstained by sin; -
Yet did I swear, when Fand was there appearing,
None in past ages could such beauty win.
I saw the champions stand with arms for slaying,
Right splendid was the garb those heroes bore;
Gay coloured garments, meet for their arraying,
'Twas not the vesture of rude churls they wore.
Women of music at the feast were sitting,
A brilliant maiden bevy near them stood;
And forms of noble youths were upwards flitting
Through the recesses of the mountain wood.
I saw the folk of song; their strains rang sweetly,
As for the lady in that house they played;
Had I not I fled away from thence, and fleetly,
Hurt by that music, I had weak been made.
I know the hill where Ethne took her station,
And Ethne Inguba's a lovely maid;
But none can drive from sense a warlike nation
Save she alone, in beauty then displayed.
And Cuchulain, when he had heard that report, went on with Liban to
that land, and he took his chariot with him. And they came to the
Island of Labraid, and there Labraid and all the women that were there
bade them welcome; and Fand gave an especial welcome to Cuchulain.
"What is there now set for us to do?" said Cuchulain. "No hard matter
to answer," said Labraid; "we must go forth and make a circuit about
the army." They went out then, and they came to the army, and they let
their eyes wander over it; and the host seemed to them to be
innumerable. "Do thou arise, and go hence for the present," said
Cuchulain to Labraid; and Labraid departed, and Cuchulain remained
confronting the army. And there were two ravens there, who spake, and
revealed Druid secrets, but the armies who heard them laughed. "It
must surely be the madman from Ireland who is there," said the army;
"it is he whom the ravens would make known to us;" and the armies
chased them away so that they found no resting-place in that land.
Now at early morn Eochaid Juil went out in order to bathe his hands in
the spring, and Cuchulain saw his shoulder through the hood of his
tunic, and he hurled his spear at him, and he pierced him. And he by
himself slew thirty-and-three of them, and then Senach the Unearthly
assailed him, and a great fight was fought between them, and Cuchulain
slew him; and after that Labraid approached, and he brake before him
those armies.
Then Labraid entreated Cuchulain to stay his hand from the slaying; and
"I fear now," said Laeg, "that the man will turn his wrath upon us; for
he hath not found a war to suffice him. Go now," said Laeg, "and let
there be brought three vats of cold water to cool his heat. The first
vat into which he goeth shall boil over; after he hath gone into the
second vat, none shall be able to bear the heat of it: after he hath
gone into the third vat, its water shall have but a moderate heat."
And when the women saw Cuchulain's return, Fand sang thus:
Fidga's[FN#36] plain, where the feast assembles,
Shakes this eve, as his car he guides;
All the land at the trampling trembles;
Young and beardless, in state he rides.
Blood-red canopies o'er him swinging
Chant, but not as the fairies cry;
Deeper bass from the car is singing,
Deeply droning, its wheels reply.
Steeds are bounding beneath the traces,
None to match them my thought can find;
Wait a while! I would note their graces:
On they sweep, like the spring's swift wind.
High in air, in his breath suspended,
Float a fifty of golden balls;
Kings may grace in their sports have blended,
None his equal my mind recalls.
[FN#36] Pronounced, nearly, Fee-ga.
Dimples four on each cheek are glowing,
One seems green, one is tinged with blue,
One dyed red, as if blood were flowing,
One is purple, of lightest hue.
Sevenfold light from his eyeballs flashes,
None may speak him as blind, in scorn;
Proud his glances, and dark eyelashes
Black as beetle, his eyes adorn.
Well his excellence fame confesses,
All through Erin his praise is sung;
Three the hues of his high-piled tresses;
Beardless yet, and a stripling young.
Red his blade, it hath late been blooded;
Shines above it its silver hilt;
Golden bosses his shield have studded,
Round its rim the white bronze is spilt.
O'er the slain in each slaughter striding,
War he seeketh, at risk would snatch:
Heroes keen in your ranks are riding,
None of these is Cuchulain's match.
From Murthemne he comes, we greet him,
Young Cuchulain, the champion strong;
We, compelled from afar to meet him,
Daughters all of Aed Abra, throng.
Every tree, as a lordly token,
Stands all stained with the red blood rain
War that demons might wage is woken,
Wails peal high as he raves again.
Liban moreover bade a welcome to Cuchulain, and she chanted as follows:
Hail to Cuchulain!
Lord, who canst aid;
Murthemne ruling,
Mind undismayed;
Hero-like, glorious,
Heart great and still
Battle-victorious,
Firm rock of skill;
Redly he rageth,
Foemen would face;
Battle he wageth
Meet for his race!
Brilliant his splendour, like maidens' eyes,
Praises we render: praise shall arise!
"Tell us now of the deeds thou hast done, O Cuchulain! cried Liban, and
Cuchulain in this manner replied to her:
From my hand flew a dart, as I made my cast,
Through the host of Stream-Yeogan the javelin passed;
Not at all did I know, though great fame was won,
Who my victim had been, or what deed was done.
Whether greater or less was his might than mine
I have found not at all, nor can right divine;
In a mist was he hid whom my spear would slay,
Yet I know that he went not with life away.
A great host on me closed, and on every side
Rose around me in hordes the red steeds they ride;
From Manannan, the Son of the Sea, came foes,
From Stream-Yeogan to call them a roar arose.
And I went to the battle with all at length,
When my weakness had passed, and I gat full strength;
And alone with three thousands the fight I fought,
Till death to the foes whom I faced was brought.
I heard Echaid Juil's groan, as he neared his end,
The sound came to mine ears as from lips of friend;
Yet, if truth must be told, 'twas no valiant deed,
That cast that I threw, if 'twas thrown indeed.
Now, after all these things had passed, Cuchulain slept with the lady,
and he abode for a month in her company, and at the end of the month he
came to bid her farewell. "Tell me," she said, "to what place I may go
for our tryst, and I will be there;" and they made tryst at the strand
that is known as the Strand of the Yew-Tree's Head.
Now word was brought to Emer of that tryst, and knives were whetted by
Emer to slay the lady; and she came to the place of the tryst, and
fifty women were with her. And there she found, Cuchulain and Laeg,
and they were engaged in the chess-play, so that they perceived not the
women's approach. But Fand marked it, and she cried out to Laeg: "Look
now, O Laeg!" she said, "and mark that sight that I see." "What sight
is that of which thou speakest?" said Laeg, and he looked and saw it,
and thus it was that the lady, even Fand, addressed him:
Laeg! look behind thee!
Close to thine ear
Wise, well-ranked women
Press on us near;
Bright on each bosom
Shines the gold clasp;
Knives, with green edges
Whetted, they grasp:
As for the slaughter chariot chiefs race,
Comes Forgall's daughter; changed is her face.
"Have no fear," said Cuchulain, "no foe shalt thou meet;
Enter thou my strong car, with its sunny bright seat:
I will set thee before me, will guard thee from harm
Against women, from Ulster's four quarters that swarm:
Though the daughter of Forgall the war with thee vows,
Though her dear foster-sisters against thee she rouse,
No deed of destruction bold Emer will dare,
Though she rageth against thee, for I will be there."
Moreover to Emer he said:
I avoid thee, O lady, as heroes
Avoid to meet friends in a strife;
The hard spear thy hand shakes cannot injure,
Nor the blade of thy thin gleaming knife;
For the wrath pent within thee that rageth
Is but weak, nor can cause mine affright:
It were hard if the war my might wageth
Must be quenched by a weak woman's might!
"Speak! and tell me, Cuchulain," cried Emer,
"Why this shame on my head thou wouldst lay?
Before women of Ulster dishonoured I stand,
And all women who dwell in the wide Irish land,
And all folk who love honour beside:
Though I came on thee, secretly creeping,
Though oppressed by thy might I remain,
And though great is thy pride in the battle,
If thou leavest me, naught is thy gain:
Why, dear youth, such attempt dost thou make?
"Speak thou, Emer, and say," said Cuchulain,
"Should I not with this lady delay?
For this lady is fair, pare and bright, and well skilled,
A fit mate for a monarch, in beauty fulfilled,
And the billows of ocean can ride:
She is lovely in countenance, lofty in race,
And with handicraft skilled can fine needlework trace,
Hath a mind that with firmness can guide:
And in steeds hath she wealth, and much cattle
Doth she own; there is naught under sky
A dear wife for a spouse should be keeping
But that gift with this lady have I:
Though the vow that I made thee I break,
Thou shalt ne'er find champion
Rich, like me, in scars;
Ne'er such worth, such brilliance,
None who wins my wars."
"In good sooth," answered Emer, "the lady to whom thou dost cling is in
no way better than am I myself! Yet fair seems all that's red; seems
white what's new alone; and bright what's set o'erhead; and sour are
things well known! Men worship what they lack; and what they have
seems weak; in truth thou hast all the wisdom of the time! O youth!"
she said, "once we dwelled in honour together, and we would so dwell
again, if only I could find favour in thy sight!" and her grief weighed
heavily upon her. "By my word," said Cuchulain, "thou dost find
favour, and thou shalt find it so long as I am in life."
"Desert me, then!" cried Fand. "Nay," said Emer, "it is more fitting
that I should be the deserted one." "Not so, indeed," said Fand. "It
is I who must go, and danger rusheth upon me from afar." And an
eagerness for lamentation seized upon Fand, and her soul was great
within her, for it was shame to her to be deserted and straightway to
return to her home; moreover the mighty love that she bare to Cuchulain
was tumultuous in her, and in this fashion she lamented, and lamenting
sang this song:
Mighty need compels me,
I must go my way;
Fame for others waiteth,
Would I here could stay!
Sweeter were it resting
Guarded by thy power,
Than to find the marvels
In Aed Abra's bower.
Emer! noble lady!
Take thy man to thee:
Though my arms resign him,
Longing lives in me.
Oft in shelters hidden
Men to seek me came;
None could win my trysting,
I myself was flame.
Ah! no maid her longing
On a man should set
Till a love full equal
To her own she get.
Fifty women hither,
Emer! thou hast brought
Thou wouldst Fand make captive,
Hast on murder thought.
Till the day I need them
Waits, my home within;
Thrice thy host! fair virgins,
These my war shall win.
Now upon this it was discerned by Manannan that Fand the daughter of
Aed Abra was engaged in unequal warfare with the women of Ulster, and
that she was like to be left by Cuchulain. And thereon Manannan came
from the east to seek for the lady, and he was perceived by her, nor
was there any other conscious of his presence saving Fand alone. And,
when she saw Manannan, the lady was seized by great bitterness of mind
and by grief, and being thus, she made this song:
Lo! the Son of the Sea-Folk from plains draws near
Whence Yeogan, the Stream, is poured;
'Tis Manannan, of old he to me was dear,
And above the fair world we soared.
Yet to-day, although excellent sounds his cry,
No love fills my noble heart,
For the pathways of love may be bent awry,
Its knowledge in vain depart.
When I dwelt in the bower of the Yeogan Stream,
At the Son of the Ocean's side,
Of a life there unending was then our dream,
Naught seemed could our love divide.
When the comely Manannan to wed me came,
To me, as a spouse, full meet;
Not in shame was I sold, in no chessmen's game
The price of a foe's defeat.
When the comely Manannan my lord was made,
When I was his equal spouse,
This armlet of gold that I bear he paid
As price for my marriage vows.