The Writing of the Táin 447
APPENDIX A:
Irish Terms used in the Verse 453
APPENDIX B:
The Place-names occurring in the Verse 460
APPENDIX C:
Names of Persons, Tribes, and Animals
occurring in the Verse 479
APPENDIX D:
The Principal Sources from which the
Narrative has been drawn 487
APPENDIX E:
Notes on Books VI and VII 491
Abbreviations used in the Appendices 494
THE FINDING OF THE TÁIN
THE FINDING OF THE TÁIN.
Shen´-cawn, the agéd poet, asked the poets
Of Erin (for Mar-vawn´, the Swineherd-Saint,
Had laid that task on him) whether a poet
Amidst them could relate the Táin Bo Cooley
Unbroken from its opening; and no poet
Amidst them could relate the Táin Bo Cooley
Except in broken fragments. And the book,
Wherein ’twas written, had been reft away
And lost in Latin lands. And Shen´-cawn then
(Because Mar-vawn´ had laid that task on him)
Said to his band of three times fifty poets,
Both to the Ollavs and the humblest learners,
“We must go forth throughout the lands of Erin,
And must not tarry two nights in one stead
Till we get knowledge of the Táin.” Whereon
The poets travelled through the lands of Erin,
And searched from west to east and north to south;
But they obtained no knowledge of the Táin
Except in broken fragments; and they all
Were weary, gloomy, downcast, and in sorrow.
They came to Leinster, then, to Connra Cae,
The bounteous one, to whom they said, “O King,
Give us a boat to put us o’er the waves
To Alba, that we there may seek some poet
Who knows the Táin.” A ship was cleared for them
And filled; and over the white-blossomed sea
Northward they fared, and passed the crags of Manann,
And came to Alba; and a year they searched
From south to north and west to east through Alba,
But got no knowledge of the Táin. Then Shen´-cawn
In trouble said, “Return we now to Erin.”
And o’er the proud-voiced ocean they returned;
And put their prows on shore against Ath Cleea;
And they were weary, downcast, and in sorrow.
Then they beheld Neev Caillin, who to Shen´-cawn
Was mother’s son: and he bestowed on Shen´-cawn
Three kisses, and asked tidings, and they told him
They yet had got no knowledge of the Táin.
Then Caillin said: “I will now go with you
To Connaught to Mar-vawn´; for he alone,
Who laid this task on Shen´-cawn, can reveal
Knowledge by help of which ye may obtain
The Táin Bo Cooley whole.” And so the poets
Went to Mar-vawn´ in Connaught; and Mar-vawn´,
Chief-prophet of the Heaven and the Earth,
Gave kisses to Neev Caillin and to Shen´-cawn,
And welcomed the thrice fifty weary poets,
And said, “O Ollavs, there is not in Erin,
Amongst the living or amongst the dead,
One who can tell the Táin Bo Cooley wholly
With all its deeds and feats—save only Fergus
The son of Roy. Ye must send messengers
To the chief saints amidst the saints of Erin,
Bidding them come, and, by the grave of Fergus,
Fast to the Deity three days and nights,
That He may send them Fergus to relate
The Táin Bo Cooley wholly.” Then Neev Caillin
Went forth; and he besought the saints of Erin,
And brought them; and they feasted for one night;
And on the morrow went with only Shen´-cawn
By desert ways to Aenloch on Moy Wee,
And found the flag-stone o’er the lying-place
And grave of that great Fergus; and they prayed;
And they were pleading and were fasting there
That that great Fergus might be sent to them.
These were the saints who visited that grave.
Neev Columkillé, who, for splendid radiance
Of noble birth, was as a moon in the air,
Having a hue of gold on it, and shining
Over Iona and the north-east sea.
Neev Kieran son of Faylim, who, for radiance
Of holy mercy, was as a moon in the air,
Having a hue of gold on it, and shining
O’er the wide Shannon and the heart of Erin.
Neev Brendan, who, that he might find a land,
Hidden, delightful, very far from men,
Wherein to love the Lord, had voyaged far
O’er the intolerable sea, and seen
The gate of Hell,—and who once more should voyage
For seven years, and at last find a land
Hidden, delightful, lofty, lovable,
And there abide in love of Christ the Lord.
Neev Kieran of green Sayer, who was old,
Weighted with years; for he was the first saint
E’er born in Erin, and his earliest monks
Had been a fox and brock and wolf and doe,
Who humbled themselves gently and were righteous,
And dwelt with him within vast desert woods.
Neev Findian of Clonard, the pious one
And scholar, in whose school three thousand saints
Had studied wisdom, ere they wandered forth
To build their cells and churches through vast Erin.
Neev Findian of Movilla, who was bishop
And sage in Ulster, and a shining star.
Neev Caillin, who had brought these saints together.
And they were gathered in that desert place
Round the flat flag above the grave of Fergus.
Then Shen´-cawn sang a poem to the gravestone,
As though he sang to Fergus. “Rise,” he said,
“For these have supplicated Jesus Christ
That Fergus may appear to us and tell
That history, the wondrous Táin Bo Cooley,
With its beginning and its deeds and end,
Which were enacted in old far-back days,
Before the Tal-kend brought the Faith to Erin.”
With that, a mighty mist and fog grew round
Those holy men and Shen´-cawn, who were there;
So that if any man had sought to find them,
He had not found them through the mist.
And Fergus
Came from the grave where five times five score years
He had been hidden. And a beautiful
And rich appearance was upon that warrior.
Brown hair was on him; and a hooded layna
With red inweaving of red gold. A bratt
Of bright grass-green was round him; and he wore
A golden-hilted sword, and round-toed shoes
Wrought all of bronze. And when that warrior, Fergus,
Perceived the holy men of Erin nigh him,
It was his wish to stand, and standing, tell
The Táin he had to tell. Howbeit those saints
Would not hear aught from him till courteously
They gave him seat; and, seated so amidst them,
The while they fasted for three days and nights,
Folded by mist, that warrior from the grave
Taught them this History, the Táin Bo Cooley,
With its beginning and its deeds and end,
E’en as it had been acted in old days,
Before Neev Patrick brought the Faith to Erin.
BOOK I
BOOK I
One eve it chanced to Al-yill and to Maev,
—The while the beautiful, full-blazing sun
Sank ’mid the bright cloud-rafters of the sky,—
That they were standing on their green-grassed mound
Of high Rath Croohan on Moy Wee; and thence,
They, gazing outward from themselves athwart
The pleasant, well-cleared land with plains and ridges,
Beheld that it was full of groves with fruit,
And lands with corn, and greens with flocks and herds,
And lakes with fowl, and streams with fish and otters;
And full of folk with growth and height and health
And gladsomeness and kindly, pleasant greeting;
And full of peace and rule. And while they gazed,
The very golden, fiery-blazing sun
Went to his own deep place below the world,
And fresh, cool, dewy airs o’erswept Moy Wee.
Then that most royal pair went to their sleeping
In their own rath and their own royal house;
And while their heads were on their kingly pillow,
There rose this talk betwixt them. Al-yill said:
“’Tis a true word, O woman, it is good
To be the wife of a strong man!” Maev said:
“’Tis a true word; but wherefore dost thou cite it?”
“For this cause,” answered Al-yill. “Thou art better
To-day in wealth and riches, peace and rule,
Than on the day whereon I came and took thee.”
“Nay, I was well in power, strength, and riches,
And wealth and rule and peace before that day,”
Maev answered. “Of thy being well,” said Al-yill,
“We never heard or knew; but heard instead
That thou wast busied with thy woman’s work,
The while the foemen of thy neighbouring regions
Were violently bearing off from thee
Great preys and plunders and vast driven spoils.”
This was the answer which Maev made to him
Before sleep came upon them there that night:
“Not so was I! My father, Yohee Fayla
The son of Find the son of Findoman,
Held the high-sovereignty of all wide Erin;
And he had six choice daughters, Daerbra, namely,
Ethna and Ella, Clothra, Moogawn, Maev.
But, of those six, I, Maev, was most distinguished,
Most noble. In bestowing of good gifts,
And costly things and things of price and treasure,
I was the noblest of them. In hard battle,
And fighting and hard vigorous battle-combat,
I was the strongest of them. And my father
For that good cause gave me a goodly household,
Which was much spoken of; so that with me
There were full fifteen hundred kingly warriors
Of sons of exiles out of extern lands,
And fifteen hundreds of the sons of noble
Dwellers amidst ourselves. And for that cause
He also put me into sovereignty
O’er Croohan and a Third ’midst the Three Thirds
Of Connaught; and thereafter ‘Maev of Croohan’
Became my queenly name and designation.
And here in Croohan then I ruled in strength
And peace and power, till ere long I wedded
Tinny the son of Conrig Cass, a king
Above the men of Domnann in the west;
And we ruled jointly here in peace and power.
And after Tinny fell, I ruled once more
Alone in strength and power.
Then men came
From thy own brother who is king o’er Leinster,
Namely, from Finn the son of Ross the Red,
To woo me for him. And men came as well
From Carpry Neea Faer, thy second brother,
The son of Ross the Red and king o’er Tara,
To woo me for him; and men came as well
From Yohee Bec from Munster. And I went not;
For I was she who asked a wondrous bride-price,
Which, before me, no woman e’er had asked
Of any man from ’midst the men of Erin.
I asked a man devoid of avarice,
Devoid of jealousy, devoid of fear.
Had the man, who should gain me, avarice,
It were not fit that we should be together;
For I myself am good for giving gifts
And costly things, and things of price and treasure;
And on my man it would bring raillery
And scorn and very fierce, disdainful words
Were I of greater bounteousness than he;
Though it in truth would bring no raillery
Were we of equal bounteousness. Again,
Had the man, who should gain me, any fear,
It were not fit that we should be together;
For I myself, by myself and alone,
Break battles and engage in wars and combats;
And on my man it would bring raillery
Were I of greater liveliness than he,
Though it indeed would bring no raillery
Were we of equal liveliness. Again,
Had the man, who should win me, jealousy,
It were not fit that we should be together,
Seeing that I was ne’er without a man
Beneath the shield and shelter of another.
Good, then, I found that man I sought for, namely,
Thyself, O Al-yill son of Ross the Red,
Of Leinster; for thou hadst no avarice:
Thou hadst no jealousy: thou hadst no fear.
And when I saw thee first, thou wast a youth
Tender and fresh and young and free from blemish;
And thou wast strong in war, yet not so strong
That thou wouldst e’er be able to o’ercome me
Or rule or govern me whilst we should live.
So, because thou couldst give that wondrous bride-price,
And for thy love and dearness, then, I took thee;
And I bestowed on thee a bridal gift
(The best of such as men bestow on women)—
An outfit for twelve men in costly cloth,
A chariot costing three times seven bondmaids,
The breadth of thine own face in rich red gold.
The weight of thine own left fore-arm in pure,
White-bright findrinny. Whosoe’er he be
Who causes thee disgrace and loss of honour,
There is for thee no honour-price therein,
More than there is for me; because, in truth,
A man upon a woman’s maintenance,
Is what thou art, O Al-yill!”
Al-yill said:
“Not so, indeed, am I. Though to my brothers,
Namely, to Finn and Carpry Neea Faer
(Seeing that they were older men than I),
I left the sovereignty of kingly Tara
And Leinster of delightful waters,—yet,
In riches and in generous gift-bestowing,
I was their equal. And I never heard
Of any Fifth amidst the Fifths of Erin
Being in woman-government, except
This Fifth alone. Therefore I came here then.
I took this kingship. An inheritance
I deemed it from my mother, Mawta Murrisc,
Who was the daughter of red-sworded Mahga,
Of Connaught. And where might I find a queen
Better than thee, thou being, as thou wert,
The daughter of a famed high-king of Erin?”
They bore that night away in rest and sleep.
Next morning, ere the glorious sun rose up
Above the deep recesses of the world,
Above the eminences of that Fifth,
Maev said to Al-yill: “There is yet a thing,
Beyond those words I said at night, last night:—
My precious things, my treasures and my wealth,
Are more than thine are.” “That seems strange to us,”
Said Al-yill; “for there is not anyone
With whom there is a greater store of riches
And very precious things and wealth and treasure
Than there is with myself, and this I know.”
Then, that it might be known with which of these
There was in truth the greater store of treasure,
There were first brought to them their humble treasures,
Their wooden drinking-mugs, their two-eared vats,
Their cruses and their vessels wrought from iron,
Their washing-troughs and tubs. And secondly,
There were brought forth to them their costly treasures,
Their arm-rings, finger-rings, and golden clasps,
And all their radiant work of skilful goldsmiths,
And their apparel, purple, blue, and green,
Yellow and black and striped and tawny-grey;
And these were viewed and counted severally;
And they were found alike in costliness
On one side and the other.
After that
There were brought forth to them from leas and lawns
And immense treeless lands and chequered greens
Their immense flocks of sheep; and these were told,
Numbered, and reckoned; and were found alike
In costliness and weight and multitude.
Over Maev’s sheep there was a wondrous ram,
Distinguished, huge, costing a powerful bondmaid.
An answering ram was o’er the ewes of Al-yill.
Then, from green, grassy grazing-grounds and pinfolds,
There were brought forth for them their flocks of mares,
And their fine, joyous steeds; and these were told,
Numbered and reckoned; and were found alike
In costliness and size and multitude.
Over Maev’s mares there was a special stallion,
Distinguished, huge, costing a powerful bondmaid:
O’er Al-yill’s mares there was an answering stallion.
And there were brought for them from fruitful oak-woods,
And solitudes and hollow, shelving glens,
Their immense herds of swine; and these were told,
Numbered, and reckoned, and were found alike
In costliness and weight and multitude.
With Maev there was a boar distinguished, special,
And there was one with Al-yill.
Last of all,
There were brought forth for them from desert groves,
And lone, unpeopled lands throughout that Fifth,
Their droves and herds and flocks of wandering kine,—
Their immense herds well-nigh innumerable;
And these were numbered, and were found alike
In costliness and multitude and greatness.
O’er Al-yill’s herds there was a special bull,
Distinguished, choice for size and hue and beauty.
His four hooves and his head were very white:
Three manes were on him, which were very white,
Even like snow upon a noble mountain,—
The rest of his vast, shapely form being red,
As though he had been dyed with partar-red,
As though he had been dipped in radiant blood,
As though he had been rubbed with partar-dye.
Upon his two white horns the men of Connaught
Had set far-shining gold. Findbenna, “white-horned”—
This was his name; and he had been calved, indeed,
By a cow ’mid Maev’s own herds; and he had held it
Not famous or illustrious to abide
On woman’s maintenance; and he had gone,
Till he was o’er the herds owned by the King.
To Maev that hour, her being without a bull
Of equal choiceness o’er her herds of kine,
Was like her being without any tittle
Of precious things or treasures through vast Erin.
So that this was the hour wherein Mac Roth,
The royal messenger and kingly envoy,
Was called to Maev; and Maev commanded him
To find out whether there was any place
In any Fifth of the Five Fifths of Erin,
Wherein there was a bull equal in choiceness
Unto that bull above the herds of Al-yill.
Mac Roth replied: “I know a place already
Wherein there is a bull which is the best
In Erin. It is in the Ulster Fifth;
And in the beautiful, high-mountained cantred
Of Cooley of blossomful, sweet-watered glens,—
In the strong house of Dawra, son of Feeacna,
In Cooley. He is called the Donn of Cooley,
And this is his description:—He is young
And very huge; and his high horns are gold-decked:
He is brown-black, smooth-sided, dark-maned, red-eyed:
He is strong-breasted, strong-necked, strong-browed, bull-like:
He is wide-nostrilled, wide-eyed, curled, high-headed:
He is impetuous, vehement, swift, courageous:
He is proud, envious, scornful, strong-attacking:
He has a lion’s rage, a sea-beast’s ardour:
He has a plunderer’s blow, a wood-bear’s onset.
He is the sire of immense herds and droves.
He has great victories. ’Tis of his victories
To shield one hundred warriors from the heat
And cold, with his far-spreading shade and shadow.
’Tis of his victories that, every eve,
Fifty young lads perform their childish games
And childish sports on his long level back,
Commodious and delightful—’tis no lie!
’Tis of his victories that Bananahs
And Bocanahs and dread Folk of the Glen,
Dare not approach to that same land and cantred
In which he is. ’Tis of his victories,
When he fares home to his own liss and shelter,
At falling of the shade of night, at night,
To utter forth his loud, deep, sweet cranndord
Before him, so that to the men of Cooley,”
Mac Roth said, “in the north or south or mid-part
Of Cooley, it is their sufficiency
Of music and of gladness, that cranndord
Sung by their Donn of Cooley as he fares—
With gait as of a king of lofty pride;
With gait as of a rolling ocean-billow—
To his own liss and his own green and shelter,
At falling of the shade of night at night.”
So spake Mac Roth, Maev’s famous messenger.
A Druid and a man of might and knowledge
Was standing near them there. “O Maev,” he said,
“O daughter of great Yohee, I through knowledge
Of druids and the arts of hidden knowledge,
Can manifest the lives and history
Of these two bulls, whereof ye are discoursing.
They have had many shapes; for at the first
Their names were Root and Riccny: and the two
Were two choice swine-herds who belonged to Ōkill,
King of the Shee in Connaught, and to Bove,
King of the Shee in Munster; and, with venom
As to their power to cast thin-withering spells
Each on the other’s swine, those two contended.
So the kings took their swine from them. And straightway,
After their being swine-herds they were birds,
Old ravens: at the Sheemound in Rath Croohan
First they were heard; and, later, at the Sheemound
On Feven; and the men from north and south
Heard them with noise and loudness and hoarse clamours
Contending; and their names were Etty and Inguen.
And after being birds they were huge beasts,
Who dwelt beneath the oceans and the waters.
Their names were Bled and Blod. They dwelt one year
Within the Suir to southward; and one year
In the bright-streaming Shannon. In the Shannon
Men saw them like two hills or mountain-peaks
Contending with hard blows, till swords of fire
Came from their mouths e’en to the clouds of heaven.
Then, in the sight of all the hosts who watched them,
They left that river, and became two warriors
There on the shore before them; and their names
Were Rinn and Faebur; and they fought with weapons
A fight of no hereditary tameness
Throughout the space of three days and three nights;
Till they became two stags who fought; and then
Two towering, haughty phantoms, who fought long
In phantom-fight,—their exploits were not small,—
So that men died for fear and dread at watching
That phantom-fight; and while they were two phantoms
Their names were Scaw and Skeeath. Next they rose,
Rising into the heaven; and, ’midst the clouds,
Became two dragons who sent wondrous showers
Of heavy snow, each on the other’s country:
In no man’s memory had such been seen;—
Till with career of headlong speed they fell
Out of the air, and went into the shapes
Of little water-worms, with every colour
Shining upon them; and one went to Cooley
Of peaks and blossomful, sweet-watered glens,
And went into Glass Crond, a Cooley river;
And one came hither to kind, gladsome Connaught,
And went to the spring-well of Oorawn Garad
Nigh to us here. Once, when at Oorawn Garad,
Thou didst, O Queen, raise up this second worm
In thy bronze vessel at the well. Thou sawest
The colours shining on it: and it told thee
Of things that should befall thee. Their two names
While they were worms were Crinniuc and Timmiuc. Now,
Lastly, those swine-herds are these two huge bulls,
Namely, Findbenna and the Donn of Cooley,
Wondrous for forms and powers. O great Queen,
It is in Destiny that these shall meet,
And in night-lasting, man-appalling combat,
Decide their long contention: yet I see not
Which of the two shall in the end prevail.”
The Druid ended. Maev addressed Mac Roth.
“Go thou, Mac Roth,” said Maev, “go hence to Cooley,
Go to the house of Dawra. Beg from him
For me, one year’s loan of that special bull.
At the year’s end the loan-price of the bull
Shall reach him, fifty heifers, and the bull
Himself in safety back. And take with thee
Another proposition, O Mac Roth:—
If, to the people of that territory
And of that land, it seem an evil thing
To give that wonderful distinctive jewel,
Their Donn of Cooley,—say to Dawra, then,
He shall himself come with the bull to Connaught;
And I will give him from my smooth Moy Wee
A measure equalling the land he has
In mountainous Cooley there. And he shall have
A chariot costing three times seven bondmaids;
And, beyond all, my own especial friendship.”
Mac Roth went forward on his way and journey.
This was his number: nine. Across wide Erin
To Cooley over unobstructed ways
These travelled, that they soon might reach the house
Of Dawra in the pleasant, high-peaked land.
We leave Mac Roth upon that road and way.
This was the day and this the point of time
Wherein Maev’s spies and envoys out of Ulster,
Who had been spying out the men of Ulster
In Avvin Maha and in each chiefs doon
And each king’s house throughout the lands of Ulster,
Came with great urgency to Croohan. Then
Maev went to her own quiet House-for-Converse,
To hear their tales and tidings out of Ulster;
And her one daughter, namely, Findabair,
Went with her there. (And thus was Findabair:
Of age to wed, white-browed and very radiant.)
The envoys then with envoys’ reverence
Accosted Maev, and told their words and tidings;
And having told them, they withdrew. But that
Which there they told to her, we tell not now:
We tell that later. Maev with liveliness
Spake to her daughter, Findabair, and said:
“O child,” said Maev, “from what these say we know
That this is now the time and the occasion
For our unheard-of, long-prepared-for hosting
Into the lands of Ulster; for we know
From what these say that at this time no ill
Is likely to befall us.” Findabair
Said to her mother, even to Maev: “Dear mother,
What were the reasons for this marvellous hatred
Between thyself and Ulster?” Then Maev said:
“Child, it is natural to hate proud Ulster.
But I perceive that thou hast heard indeed
That for myself there were great reasons.” Then,
In that reposeful, quiet House-for-Converse
In high Rath Croohan on Moy Wee, Maev spake
These words to Findabair:
“O child!” said Maev,
“There were great reasons for me; and those reasons
Thou now shalt know, being of age to know them.
My father, Yohee Fayla, was called Fayla,
‘Righteous,’ because with constant righteousness
He acted towards all people. In the battle
Of Letteree in Corann, he had slain
Wise Fahtna Fahee, great High-king of Erin,
And had himself become High-king. We then
To the High-king’s most royal seat of Tara
Went with great joy; and I myself had then
Fulfilled my sixteen years. But Yohee Fayla,
(Because with ever-upright righteousness
He acted towards all people), paid to Conor
The son of Fahtna Fahee a great eric
For the slain father. He bestowed on Conor
The kingship of the high-proud Ulster Fifth
In eric; and, O child, this was not all
That eric: he allotted unto Conor
Four of his daughters who were with himself
In Tara; and those four, in fervent sorrow,
Moogawn and Clothra, Ethna and I,—Maev,
Were borne from Tara north to Avvin Maha
To be of Conor’s women. Child, I thought
My pride would ne’er recover of that hurt.
E’en then it ne’er had seemed to me too much
That I myself should not be deedless. E’en,
I young, it had not seemed to me too much
That I should hope to be myself the chiefest
Of rulers in all Erin. And we dwelt
In Avvin; and in this wise there was I—
Hated and without honour, hating greatly,
Dejected, in dark sadness; and toward Conor,
I had timidity and horror. Then,
After one year my pride arose in me;
And, through high pride of mind, I rode from Avvin,
Forsaking Conor; and I rode towards Tara.
It was a shining and extreme clear night;
And I was chased; but like the wind of spring,
My chariot-steeds went south toward kingly Tara,
And crossed the boundary and came to Tara,
Where was my father the High-king of Erin.
So, child, my being thus given unto Conor
Without my will; and my sad days in Avvin;
And, afterwards, my severance from Conor
Without his will; were the first powerful causes
And the first reasons for this eminent hatred
Between myself and Ulster. It was then,
When I had left stern-hearted Conor, so
Escaping from that dreadful grief, that Yohee,
My father, gave me that distinguished household,
Which was much spoken of,—so that with me
There were full fifteen hundred kingly warriors
Of sons of exiles out of extern lands;
And fifteen hundreds of the sons of noble
Dwellers amidst ourselves. And it was then
That Yohee put me into sovereignty
O’er Croohan and a Third ’midst the Three Thirds
Of Connaught, where thenceforth in quietness
I did possess,—the power of Conor here
No more being on me; and ere long I wedded
Tinny the son of Conrig Cass, a king
Above the men of Domnann; and two years
Passed thus in quietness. But it was then,
Namely, at ending of these two good years,
That the great Feast of Tara was made ready
By Yohee Fayla; and the Five Great Fifths
Of Erin were around him there in Tara,
Except myself and Tinny. Seeing this,
The men of Erin asked just Yohee Fayla
To bring me to that Feast, and Yohee sent
Srebloo-a, his own woman-messenger,
Hither to Croohan to invite me. Then,
Upon the morrow, Tinny and myself
Arrived together at that hero-seat,
Tara, the meeting-place of kings and heroes.
Amidst the vast assemblage I perceived,
In his own Ulster place and seat of honour,
Conor the son of Fahtna, King of Ulster,
The hawk-like king; but at that Feast his power
Was not upon me. Then, until the end
Of fourteen days added on to a month,
The racings of swift steeds and feats of riding
Pertaining to that Feast were made, and then
The men of Erin separated, each
Going back to his own land and house and doon.
O child,” said Maev, “Conor remained behind
Each king and prince and chief who had been there,
That he might watch and lurk for me. One morn,
As I was riding to the Boyne for bathing,
The dreaded king, with his own men around him,
Delivered a well-calculated onfall,
With fury and with virulence, with callings
And mockery. He forced me to his will
Against my will; and I was bound and placed
In angry bondage. That was heard in Tara;
And when ’twas heard, the household of the King
Of Erin round about the King of Erin
Came forth from Tara. Tinny son of Conrig
Came forth from Tara. Then red battle broke
Between those people upon either side.
Harsh was the battle-thunder through the battle:
Abundant were the streams of blood that flowed;
And I, hurt, bowed, bound, desperate, heard and saw.
Tinny the son of Conrig Cass, my husband,
And joint partaker with me over Croohan,
Fell there; and ere the eve the household troops
Of Yohee Fayla were defeated wholly,
And driven o’er the Boyne before the men
Of Conor son of Fahtna. Then, indeed,
I deemed my overthrow complete. I seemed
Helpless of all relief. But my own men
From Connaught, my right-valiant, lusty heroes,
Coming amidst the gory, crowded battle,
By strength of fighting brought me from that danger
And from that venomous bondage. They, by strength
Of fighting, over the wide Plain of Meath,
Over the wide expanse, taking me safely,
We crossed the Shannon of green-flowing streams,
To Croohan, here, my doon and rightful dwelling.
O child, this thing is truth without deceit,—
I knew that my high pride of mind and spirit
Would ne’er recover from this second hurt
Until I should behold red-sworded Conor
Pale in his death before me. And, O child,
Untiring, throughout all my lifetime after,
I was preparing that I might fulfil
That which I wished for. I, in no long time,
Ruled the Three Thirds of Connaught. Then I wedded
Thy father, Al-yill son of Mawta Murrisc,
Winning the friendship of the sons of Mahga
In Connaught, and the friendship and alliance
Of Leinster and the war-skilled Leinster-men.
My many sons, thy brothers, I bestowed
In fosterage with powerful Munster princes,
Winning their friendship. Five times five years so
Have been consumed since that great hurt and danger
Which I have spoken of. My people now
Are multiplied in numbers. I have gotten
Great wealth and power and great battle-strength;
And I have triumphed and thriven in well-nigh all
My enterprises and my purposes,
Till now, indeed, I am accounted chiefest
Of rulers in all Erin, save alone
In that high-proud, strength-guarded Ulster Fifth,
Where Conor, lofty and illustrious,
Rules with huge power:—yea, even he gathers tribute
Out of the Islands of the Foreigners
Beyond the Northern Sea. But now, O daughter,
From what these envoys have averred, we know
That this is now the time and the occasion
For dealing woe to Ulster. It is well
That we have so despatched Mac Roth to Cooley
To beg this year’s loan of the Donn of Cooley
For me. We know the bull will be refused.
That will be cause to us for the great hosting,
Which we have long prepared to trouble Ulster.
Thereon a strange thing shall be seen in Ulster:
We will destroy and spoil the men of Ulster:
We will strike fear into them. In the end,
If they shall rise and come and give us battle,
It is my hope that Conor son of Fahtna,
Of most stern valour, on that day may know
The grievousness of death; and that with sureness
His numbing death-mists may lay hold of him.
So we, indeed, shall put the pride off Ulster;
And I, thereafter, shall, indeed, be chiefest
Of rulers through the Five Great Fifths of Erin.
And for thyself, dear child, on this great hosting
We shall perceive which are the great and true
And lively warriors: and, when we return,
Thou shalt be wedded to some noble warrior
And kingly hero midst our battle-heroes.”
This was the talk ’twixt Maev and Findabair
In Maev’s own quiet, private House-for-Converse
In high Rath Croohan, on Moy Wee in Connaught,
Before the Táin.
As for those messengers
Which Maev had sent,—across wide, noble Erin
To Cooley, over unobstructed ways
They travelled till they reached the well-roofed house
Of Dawra, son of Feeacna. Therein
Mac Roth received a truly joyful welcome.
(That was befitting, for Mac Roth indeed
Was chief of all the messengers of Erin.)
Dawra inquired what cause had brought on them
That travel, and Mac Roth related all
That friendly emulation and contention
’Twixt Maev and Al-yill. “And to ask,” he said,
“For Maev one year’s loan of thy Donn of Cooley
To rival that huge, beautiful Findbenna,
Is that which I have come for. Thou shalt get
Fifty fair heifers, and the bull himself
In safety back. And, yet another thing:
If, to the people of this territory
And of this land, it seems an evil thing
To give that wonderful, distinctive jewel,
Their Donn of Cooley, come thou then thyself
To Connaught, to Rath Croohan, with the bull;
And Maev will give thee from her smooth Moy Wee
A measure equalling the land thou hast
In mountainous Cooley here; and thou shalt get
A chariot costing three times seven bondmaids;
And, beyond all, Maev’s own especial friendship.”
That proposition gave much joy and gladness
To Dawra son of Feeacna. He shook
Till the seam-sewings of his down-filled bed
Brake underneath him. “By our faith of conscience!”
He said, “however bad, however good,
This may appear unto the men of Ulster,—
On this occasion this distinguished treasure,
Namely, the Donn of Cooley, shall be taken
To Maev and Al-yill, to the realm of Connaught!”
And to Mac Roth it gave much joy and gladness
To find that answer to his words and message.
Then they were served. Green rushes and green reeds
Were strown beneath them. Pleasing food was brought.
A feast was poured for them. Anon they grew
Loud-voiced, confused; and soon this colloquy
Happened betwixt two of those messengers.
“’Tis a true word,” said one, “the man of this house
Is a great man!” “He is a great man, truly,”
The second said. “Is there,” the first man asked,
“’Midst all the men of Ulster any man
Greater than this man is?” The second said,
“Truly there is! Greater than this man is,
Is Conor whose he is. Yet were the men
Of Ulster all to rally to this man,
It were to them no shame or loss of honour.”
The first man said, “He shows to us great honour,
When this thing (which to take by force from Ulster
Would be a work for the Four Fifths of Erin)
Namely, the Donn of Cooley, is thus given
Freely to us nine messengers alone.”
A third then came on them to join that talk;
And this one was a woman. “What,” said she,
“Is being talked of here betwixt you two?”
They told their talk, and how the one had said,
That Dawra truly showed to them great honour,
Since that thing (which to take by force from Ulster
Would be a work for the Four Fifths of Erin),
Namely, the Donn of Cooley, was thus given
To those nine messengers alone. She said:
“Fain in this hour were I to see a burst
Of blood and clotted gore out of that mouth
Whereout that saying came! Because,” said she,
“Were not the bull thus yielded willingly,
He would be taken forcibly. The hosts
Of Al-yill and of Maev, with skilful guidance
From powerful Fergus son of Roy, would take him!”
This was the time when the Distributor
To Dawra came into that separate house
Where these were feasted: and a man laden
With drink was with him, and a man laden
With food; and he had heard all that they said.
And anger came on him; and he set down
His food and drink before them; and he said not
To them that they should take it; and he said not
That they should leave it. He went after that
Into that house where Dawra was himself,
And said with haste: “Is it thyself who gavest
That wondrous jewel to these messengers,—
The Donn of Cooley?” “It is I, indeed,”
Said Dawra. “In the place where he was given,”
The man said, “there was neither king nor kingship!
There was no strength or sway or government!
They say the truth!” “What say they, then?” asked Dawra.
“They say,” the man said, “that unless thou givest
Him willingly, thou then ere long shalt give him
Unwillingly, constrained by the great hosts
Of Al-yill and of Maev, guided and led
By Fergus son of Roy!” “I swear,” said Dawra,
“By all the gods whom I adore, that that
Which I bestow not on them willingly,
They shall not make me yield unwillingly.”
They slept till morn. Early upon the morrow
The messengers arose; and they went straightway
Into that house where Dawra slept himself,
And said to him: “O Noble One, allow us
Place-guidance that we thus may find the place
Wherein thy Donn of Cooley is.” “Not so!
In truth or deed,” Dawra replied to them;
“But were it wont of mine to violate
Travellers, messengers, or journeying folk,
Who travel by these passes and these ways,
Not one of you should journey hence alive.”
“For what cause?” asked Mac Roth. “There is great cause,”
Dawra replied. “Ye said unless the bull
Should be delivered to you willingly,
He should be seized on forcibly by hosts
Of Maev’s and Al-yill’s, guided on their way
By Fergus son of Roy.” Mac Roth responded,
Deprecating, “Yet, O Noble One,
Whate’er they may have said, these messengers,
Made heady by thy viands and thy ale,
It is not right so to take cognizance
Or heed of it, or so to make of it
Ground of reproach to Al-yill and to Maev.”
These were the words that Dawra said to him:—
“Yet, O Mac Roth, I will not give my bull
On this occasion, if I have strength to help it.”
Thus, with these words, those messengers returned.
They traversed Erin, till they reached at length
Rath Croohan on Moy Wee in Connaught. Then
Maev asked of them their tidings, and Mac Roth
Told her those tidings;—that they had not brought
The bull from Dawra. “Through what cause?” asked Maev.
Mac Roth related all. Maev said to him:
“This is no cause for trouble, O Mac Roth;
There is no need to trim these knots away.
We knew the bull would be refused. And now
He shall be taken by strength of mighty hosts,
With guidance from our Fergus son of Roy.
And we will not alone take their great bull:
There is no ill we will not do to them.
E’en though the dangerous, storm-troubled days
Of winter now come near, we yet will go.
We will lay waste, harry, and devastate
All Ulster and all Crithny. We will take
Their wives, their children, and their tender sons,
Their steeds and flocks of mares, their troops of kine,
Their herds of every sort of grazing kine.
And we will not alone burn to the grass
Their strongly-timbered houses, wide and fair;
But their high, fortified green mounds, whereon
Their houses are, we will so level down
That all their glens and trenches will be filled
After our track. And at the end of all
The Donn of Cooley shall be brought to Croohan.
Whoever shall arrive or not arrive
In safety here after this powerful hosting,
The Donn of Cooley shall arrive. I swear,
By all the gods by whom my people swear,
The Bull of Cooley then shall come to Croohan.”
BOOK II
BOOK II
These were Maev’s words. Then messengers went forth
To Maev’s own seven sons, the seven Mahn-yas,
That each might come, each with his folk and cantred,
To Croohan on Moy Wee. And messengers
Went forth unto each king and under-king
And prince and chief through the Four Fifths of Erin,
That each might come with his own folk and cantred
To join that hosting.
It was on an eve,
While all were waiting for those many hosts
And bands and troops to come unto Rath Croohan,
That Maev and Al-yill, with their kingly household,
Were feasting in their royal house. And this
Was the array of that most royal house:—
It was round, vast, and built of powerful oak,
Roofed o’er with shingles; and it held within it
Seven concentric ranks of imdas, railed
With bronze, and panelled with choice, rich red yew.
And there were brought into that house that night
The newest of each kind of pleasant food
And oldest of each kind of pleasant drink;
And when each man had eaten and had drunk
His measure and his full sufficiency,
Al-yill the son of Mawta Murrisc said
Aloud:—“Let now some tale be told to us.”
“What tale wouldst thou have told?” asked Findabair.
“Let it,” said Al-yill, “be some tale from Ulster;
For (since we soon shall go upon our hosting)
To hear some tale or famous history
Of those famed tribes and that famed warlike folk
Toward whom we go, will indeed be to us
A pastime, and will while away the eve.”
“Let it,” said Maev, “be that most woful tale
Of the Three Sons of Usna and their deaths;
For ’tis a tale which men hear willingly.”
“And who shall tell the tale?” asked Findabair.
“Who,” answered Maev, “but agèd Lowercam,
The woman-poet, satirist, and envoy,
Who is in exile here in Croohan?”—Now
This was the reason in Maev’s mind for choosing
That tale. She deemed that Fergus son of Roy,
Who was there with them in that house that night,
Would be (when he should freshly hear this tale
Of all the wrong which he had borne from Conor)
So much the more ready and fresh and eager
To help her with his kingly hero-valour
On that great hosting to the lands of Ulster.
Throughout that household then there was great silence;
And Lowercam began her tale and told it.
The men of Ulster once (she said) were drinking
At nightfall on the floor of the house of Faylim,
Conor’s own High-historian. And the wife
Of Faylim was presiding o’er those hosts,
Above them; and she served and dealt to them;
And she was great with child. Horns brimmed with ale,
Cause of loud mirth, passed round; and shares of food
Passed round; and mixed inebriate shouts were heard.
When each was faring to his sleeping-place
Within that house, the wife of Faylim too
Fared to her sleeping-place; and, as she fared
Across the wide-floored house, the child within her
Cried, so that everywhere inside that liss
Its cry was heard. The men of Ulster rose,
Each man against the other, when they heard
The shrill, lone, terror-causing, grief-full cry.
But Shenca, straight, the truly-prudent one,
Rose up and called to them: “Stir not yourselves,
Ye men; but let the woman come up hither,
That thus the cause and presage of that cry
May be made known to us.” They took the woman
To truly-prudent Shenca, then,—that hero
Whose words of eloquence are strong to calm
The hosts of Ulster, and whose calming words
Might still the war and tumult of the world.
Whilst they were passing through the wide-floored house,
Faylim, the woman’s husband, High-historian
And Poet unto Conor, said to her:
“What was that cry which we have heard ascending,
O woman? By our ears the cry was heard.
Great terror has seized hold of me. My heart
Is wounded as by weapons.” Unto him
Shenca, the truly-prudent one, said then:
“Trouble the woman not; but let her now
Be led to Cathbad, the good marvellous Druid;
For ’tis with him that there is knowledge.” Then
The woman moved towards Cathbad, and she said,
Speaking to Cathbad, the renownéd Druid:
“Let Cathbad, the good, lovable Druid, hear me;
For not with me are the white words of knowledge
Wherewith to answer Faylim; for the woman
Knows not herself what stirs beneath her breast.”
’Twas then that Cathbad said: “O wife of Faylim,
Beneath thy breast there cried a yellow-haired
Bright maiden, with bright blue-green eyes, and cheeks
Crimson like foxglove, and a faultless treasure
Of teeth like autumn snow, and two curved lips
Red like red rowan-fruit o’er shining snow.
Beneath thy breast there cried a yellow-haired
Bright maiden, with long shining waving hair.
High heroes strongly will contend for her.
Noble high-kings will deeply long for her.
There will be woe throughout this Fifth of Conor’s.
There cried beneath thy breast a yellow-haired
Bright maiden, with red lips like fruit of rowan.
High-queens shall envy them. High-queens shall envy
Her excellent, unblemished, faultless form.”
And Cathbad laid his hand against the woman,
So that the child was troubled beneath his hand.
“Yea, it is true,” he said, “it is a maiden,
Indeed, who is troubled there. And Daerdra, ‘Trouble,’
Shall be her name: and there shall be much ill
Because of her, through all this Fifth of Erin.”
After that, then, the child was born; and Cathbad,
When she was brought unto him, said to her:
“O Daerdra, ‘Trouble,’ comely, of renown
Most wonderful, ’tis in thy time of life,
That woe and torture shall arrive for Ulster.
There will be envy, there will be hate in Ulster;
There will be wars, even after thy time of life,
Through thee, indeed, O generous daughter of Faylim.
It is through thee, and in thy time of life,
That ears of men shall hear of a sad exile,—
The exile of the three high Sons of Usna.
It is through thee, and in thy time of life,
That a dread deed shall be performed in Avvin,
In violation of the words of Fergus.
It is through thee, and in thy time of life,
That ears of men shall hear of a great exile,—
The exile of great Fergus from our Ulster.
Thou shalt thyself perform a rough, dread deed,
In anger towards the king of high-proud Ulster.
Thy grave shall be in a lone, rock-high place.
Thy history shall be renowned, O Daerdra.”
“Let the maid-child be slain,” the warriors said.
But Conor, the High-king of Ulster, looking
Upon the child, straight loved it; and he said:
“Not so, O warriors; since it is not well
To war against things fated; for things fated
May not by us be so avoided. Truly,
Beautiful is the smiling of this child.
Let her be brought to me at dawn to-morrow:
She shall be reared obedient to myself;
And she shall be the wife who shall be near me.”
The chiefs were silent; for they dared not speak
Against the words and verdict of the King.
But Fergus son of Roy soon rose and spoke,
And said: “O Conor, O High-king of Ulster,
Thy judgment errs not. All things shall be done
According to thy ruling and thy judgment.”
And all was done even as Conor had said.
The child was reared within a closed-up liss
Nigh the high mound of splendid Avvin Maha;
And none (said Lowercam) was e’er admitted
Within that liss, except these four alone,—
Namely, her gentle, careful foster-mother
And foster-father, who there tended her;
And Conor, the High-sovereign; and myself,
Lowercam;—they dared not close me out,
I being the skilled she-satirist. And Daerdra
By Conor there was reared, until she was
The maiden of most splendour which there was
Throughout the expanse of Erin. And to Conor
She was the treasure which he loved more strongly
Than any treasure. And the time drew nigh
When she should go to his high pillow.
Then,
One day upon white snow in one night fallen,
The foster-father of the maid was skinning
A cooking-calf to seethe for her; and Daerdra,—
I being with her there,—perceived a raven
Drink the calf’s blood upon the snow. ’Twas then
She cried: “O Lowercam, how lovable
To me that man would be on whom should be
These three pure colours, namely, on his hair
The black of this black raven; on his cheeks
The red of this red blood, and on his body
The white of this white snow.” Whereon I said:
“O maiden, dignity and bliss be thine!
In Conor’s own king’s household, very near
To where thou art, that man is; and his name
Is Neesha son of Usna.” And she said:
“’Twill not be well with me until I see him.”
At day-dawn on the morrow, while the sun
Rose through the beautiful, lustrous clouds of dawning
Neesha the son of Usna stood alone
On the high mound of splendid Avvin Maha,
Singing his rich andord. And, O ye men
(Said Lowercam), sonorous and melodious
Was the andord sung by the Sons of Usna,
By Neesha and by Annly and Ardawn,
The three high sons of Usna. Every cow
And every beast, hearing that rich andord,
Yielded a two-thirds increase of her milk;
And to all folk who heard that melody
It was their fill and their sufficiency
Of harmony and calm and peacefulness.
Moreover, men, high was the valour too
Of those three sons. E’en had the Hosts of Ulster
Been all around them in one place to slay them,—
They three being back to back amidst those hosts,—
The hosts would not have gained the battle o’er them,
So good at warding-off and at defence
Were those three valorous, dauntless hero-ones.
And they were fleet as hounds are in the chase:
They slew the fleet, wild deer by their own fleetness:
Their leap was like the salmon’s.—
And so Daerdra,
Lying at dawn in her still lying-place,
Heard that unrivalled one; and in her mind
She knew that it was Neesha. Then she rose,
Unseen by those who reared her. She passed out,
Outside the liss, and climbed on the high mound
Of Avvin Maha, and saw Neesha there.
She passed as though she would pass unperceived.
He knew her not. He said, as she went past:
“Fair is that heifer who goes past us there.”
“There must be heifers where there are no bulls,”
She answered. That struck fear into him. Truly,
He knew her then. “Maiden,” he said to her,
“The Bull of all this Fifth, namely, the King,
Will be for thee.” “I would have leave to choose
Between you two,” she said, “and I would choose
A young bull even like thee.” “Not so,” said he.
He held in memory the words of Cathbad.
“Is it refusing me thou sayest that?”
She asked. “It is refusing thee indeed,”
He answered her.
With speed and vehemence
And fervency she sprang at him and seized
The two ears on his head. She said, “Two ears
Of shame and of disgrace these ears will be
Unless thou takest me!” “Arise from me,
Remove from me, O woman,” Neesha said.
“I will be thine,” she said; whereat from Neesha
There rose his loud andord; and when the Ultonians
Heard the andord, as thus it rose from him,
They rose against each other,—each incited
To mutual wounding, and to broils, and war.
The Sons of Usna came to restrain their brother.
“What ails thee,” said they, “that the men of Ulster
Thus wound each other by thy fault?” He told
What had been done to him. “Evil,” said they,
“Will come of it; but thou shalt never be
Beneath disgrace and taint and shame and scorn
While we two live. We will depart with her
Into some other land. There is no king
In Erin who will not make joy before us.”
Those were their counsels. They went forth that night.
They took with them thrice fifty fighting men,
Thrice fifty gillies, and thrice fifty women,
And Daerdra ’midst them, so that none might see her.
After that night wherein they fled with her,
They for a long while lived beneath protection,
All round wide Erin,—though their annihilation
Was oft attempted in the lands of Erin
By the contrivances and plans of Conor,
South-westward from white-foaming Assaroe,
And round the south, until they turned once more
North-eastward to Ben Edar. In the end
The Ultonians drove them o’er the sea to Alba.
There they abode in a desert. In a season,
When the wild creatures of the mountains failed them,
They took to falling on the kine and sheep
Of the men of Alba, till the men of Alba
Rose in one day to attack them. Then they went
And took war-service with the King of Alba.
They set their houses on his green. They slept not
In the King’s house. It was because of Daerdra
That they did that,—so that no man might see her:
They feared they might be slain because of her.
Then, on a time, one day, at early morn,
The steward of the king of Alba took his circuit
Around their houses; and he saw that pair,
Neesha and Daerdra, in their sleep. He went
Forthwith and roused the king. “We ne’er have found
Until this day,” he said, “a woman worthy
To be thy mate. With Neesha Son of Usna
There is a woman worthy to be mated
With the king of the Western World. Let Neesha, therefore,
Straightway be slain; and let this woman sleep
With thee thyself,” the steward said. “Nay,” the king said,
“But rise and supplicate her secretly,
Daily to come to me.” That then was done.
What the steward said to her she told to Neesha.
When the king got from her only refusal,
The sons of Usna were commissioned forth
Into hard combats, battles, and hard dangers,
So that they might be slain; but they were firm
In every place of wounding and of danger.
Nought was attained. The men of Alba then
Were mustered strongly to attack those sons
And slay them. She was told that. And she told
Neesha immediately. “Ye must depart,”
She said. “Unless ye will depart to-night,
Ye will be slain to-morrow.” So that night
They left the king; and a long time they wandered
In desert woods and lands, and in lone glens
Set up their booths and tents. In time they came
Unto Loch Etive and subdued the lands
Around Loch Etive; and they made a stronghold;
And for a while in peace they sojourned there.
These things were told, now, to the men of Ulster,
Who spoke together, and then said: “O Conor,
This is to all our minds a cause of grief,—
The Sons of Usna to be wandering
In hostile lands, finding their death and end,
Because of one bad woman.” Conor said:
“Let one go forth to them to take that message,
And offer them protection here in Avvin.”
Then I (said Lowercam) was ordered forth
To bear that message to the Sons of Usna.
I found them, and they gave me trustful kisses,
Kindly and fervently and loyally.
And I, at finding them, wept floodlike tears;
Because there were no two on the ridge of the world
Who were so dear to me as were those two,
Neesha and Daerdra. Then I spake my message.
“We will return,” said Neesha, “if great Fergus
Will come to be our safeguard and our pledge;
And if a son of Conor’s and a chief
Amidst the chiefs of Ulster will await
To take our hands on landing.” I returned
To give this word. When Conor heard this word,
He weighed that matter for a space and season.
Among the heroes of the Western World
There was not any greater than was Fergus,
In stalwartness and beauty and high race,
In bounteousness and kindness; and to Conor
He, without change, was ever dear and loyal.
He by his prowess had broken thirty battles
O’er chiefs in distant lands, e’en to the City
Of Moorn in the far Land of Ice and Snow.
Conor, then, pondered for a space and season.
Then he took Fergus to a place apart,
And said: “O royal warrior of the world,
If thou wert sent to fetch the Sons of Usna,
And they, in violation of thy safeguard,
Were slain,—a thing which never would be done,—
What wouldst thou do?” And this (said Lowercam)
Was what great Fergus said: he said, “O King,
Thy own blood, thy own flesh, I would not touch;
But there is not another man of Ulster
Whom I should find doing them injury,
Who from my hands would not obtain his death.”
“O royal warrior of the world,” said Conor,
“Thou shalt go forth to fetch the Sons of Usna;
For ’tis with thee that they will come. Depart
To-morrow; and, when coming from the east,
Land at the doon of Borrig son of Annty,
Where Cormac, my own son, and Duffa Dael
Will take their hands on landing. And, besides,
Give me thy word that when they shall arrive,
No stop or stay shall be allowed to them;
So that the first food which they eat in Erin
May be with me in Avvin.” Fergus promised;
And early on the morrow he arose,
And took with him no hosts or multitudes
Except his own two sons, Illann Finn, namely,
And Bwinn-ye the Rude-Red. And they set forth
Upon that mission and that embassy.
Then Conor sent for Borrig son of Annty.
He said: “Hast thou a feast for me, O Borrig?”
“I have,” said Borrig. “It was possible
To make it, but it was not possible
To bear it hither.” “That being so,” said Conor,
“Give it to Fergus, when he comes to thee.
And it belongs to his high hero-gassa
And to his powerful hero-prohibitions,
Both to refuse a feast when offered one,
And to forsake a feast, ere it be ended.”
Borrig, instructed, fared to his own doon.
And Conor sent for Cormac, his own son,
With Duffa Dael, the chafer-tongued of Ulster.
“Go forth,” he said, “unto Dunseverick
To meet the Sons of Usna when they come there;
And take their hands on landing.” So he spake,
Giving them wrong direction.
As for Fergus,
He, with his own two sons, Illann Finn, namely,
And Bwinn-ye the Rude-Red, in his own boat,
The Eura, sailed north-eastward, till he came
To the strong place where dwelt the Sons of Usna,
And to Loch Etive. And (said Lowercam)
’Tis thus that those three Sons of Usna were:—
They had three wide and spacious hunting-booths;
And in the booth wherein they cooked their food,
Therein they ate it not; and in the booth
Wherein they ate, therein they rested not.
And Fergus let from him a mighty shout
Within the harbour, so that it was heard
Through all that country near to him. And thus
Were Neesha and bright Daerdra,—with the Kenncaem
Of Conor placed between them, while they played
At royal feehill on the Kenncaem. Then
Neesha looked up and said: “I hear the shout
Of a man of Erin.” Daerdra, too, had heard
The shout: she knew it was the shout of Fergus;
But she concealed it from them. And again
Fergus let forth from him his mighty shout
Within the harbour; so that Neesha said:
“I hear another shout. It is the shout
Of a man of Erin.” “It is not,” said Daerdra,
“It is, indeed, the shout of a man of Alba.”
But Fergus let from him his third loud shout
Within the harbour; and the Sons of Usna
Then knew it was, indeed, the shout of Fergus.
And Neesha bade Ardawn go to the shore
To meet great Fergus: whereon Daerdra said
That she had recognized the first loud shout
Which Fergus had let forth. “Wherefore,” said Neesha,
“Didst thou conceal it?” Daerdra said to him:
“I saw a vision in the night last night,—
Namely, three birds which came to us from Avvin,
Carrying in their mouths three drops of honey:
And they with us left their three drops of honey;
But took with them three drops of our own blood.”
“How dost thou judge that vision?” Neesha said.
“Thus,” answered she. “Fergus has come to us,
Out of our native land to bear us peace;
And honey is not sweeter to a man
Than is an embassy of peace. The three
Sips of our blood which the birds took from us,—
They are yourselves who now will go with Fergus,
And be betrayed.”
But it seemed ill to them
That Daerdra should speak so; and they were grieved;
And Neesha bade Ardawn go to the shore
To meet great Fergus. And Ardawn went down;
And when he saw great Fergus and his sons,
He gave them each three kisses fervently
And loyally, and took them to the stronghold
Where Neesha was with Daerdra; and they, too,
Gave their three kisses very fervently
To Fergus and his sons. And Neesha sought
Their tidings of all Erin; and in special
Their tidings of the Ulster Fifth. And Fergus
Replied: “These tidings are indeed our best,—
Namely, that Conor has sent myself to fetch you;
And I am now your warranty and safeguard,
And I am dear to you, and true, and loyal;
And I have taken my word, and it is on me
Now to fulfil my covenant and safeguard.
And Cormac son of Conor son of Fahtna,
And Duffa Dael of Ulster will be waiting
At Borrig’s Doon to take your hands on landing.”
“It is not fit that ye should go,” said Daerdra;
“For greater is your store of wealth and riches
In Alba than it e’er will be in Erin.”
And it was then, indeed (said Lowercam),
That Fergus spake these very fervent words:—
“Better than all things is one’s native land;
For not delightful unto any man
Is any store of wealth, however great,
Unless he sees his own dear native land.”
(Lowercam paused; for she perceived that Fergus,
Hearing these words which he once so had spoken,
Wept o’er his breast his flood-like showers of tears;
And all perceived that like a sudden storm
He rose; and, rushing like a sudden storm,
Passed from the house. But Lowercam went on.)
When Fergus so had said these thoughtful words,
“Better than all things is one’s native land;
For not delightful unto any man
Is any store of wealth, howsoe’er great,
Unless he sees his native land,” with fervour
Neesha replied: “That thing is true, O Fergus;
For dearer to myself is our own Erin
Than Alba is, although by hap in Alba
I might obtain more wealth.”
“My word and safeguard
And warranty are firm and strong for you,”
Fergus said, urging. “They are firm and strong,”
Said Neesha. “We indeed will go with thee
Again to Erin.”
Now (said Lowercam)
It verily was not with Daerdra’s will
That all these things were said. And she was trying
To hinder them; but Fergus son of Roy
Gave them his word that even if all the men
Of Erin should betray them at one time,
Not shield or sword or cathbarr should protect
One such betraying from the wrath and vengeance
Which he, great Fergus, would inflict on him.
And Neesha answered very ardently:
“O generous Fergus, Fergus of Avvin Maha,
Thy word is firm, and we will go with thee
Again to Erin and to Avvin Maha.”
They passed that night away. Upon the morrow,
Though early was the singing of the birds
Amid the oaks, yet earlier than that,
In the pale morn, was the fresh early rising
Of Fergus and of Neesha. And they went
Down to the creek and made their curraghs ready,
And made the Eura ready; and ere yet
The sun was high, Fergus and his two sons,
And the three Sons of Usna,—Neesha, namely,
And Annly and Ardawn,—with bright-cheeked Daerdra,
And with their folk and people, bore away
Along the sea, out to the awful ocean,
To go to Erin. As for mournful Daerdra,
She from the Eura gazed along their track,
Back to the lands of Alba; and she said:
“My love to thee, thou land there in the east;
And I am wearying, indeed, at leaving
The borders of thy cherishing creeks and havens,
And thy smooth-flowering, unblemished plains,
And thy green-sided hills. And very little
Indeed does it now profit us to leave them.”
Then o’er the wave-voice of the billowing sea
She sang her words of highest love of Alba.
“Belovéd land, thou land there in the east,
Alba with wonders! I would never leave thee,
Did I not leave with Neesha, my belovéd.
Belovéd are Doon Feea and Doon Finn
And the high doon above them; and belovéd
Is Innish Draiguen o’er its strong loud beach.
Kyle Cooan! O thick-branching wood of Cooan,
Into which Annly oft would wend. Alas!
Short seemed the time unto myself and Neesha,
While we were in yon paling land of Alba.
Glen Lawee! in Glen Lawee I would sleep
Beneath a gentle crag. Deer-flesh and fish
And badger-flesh they brought me in Glen Lawee.
Glen Massan! in Glen Massan grows the garlic,
Tall and pure-white. We had a rocking sleep
Above the white-haired inver of Glen Massan.
Glen Etive! O Glen Etive! there I built
My first house. Tender are its circling woods.
A cattle-fold for sunshine is Glen Etive.
Glen Urkeen! O Glen Urkeen is a glen
With straight, fair ridges. At his age no man
Was prouder than was Neesha in Glen Urkeen.
And Glen Dau Roo! My love to every man
Who dwells therein. Sweet is the cuckoo’s voice
From curved bough on the peak o’er Glen Dau Roo.
And Innish Draiguen o’er its strong, loud beach!
Dear are its pure-brinked waters where they shine
Above pure sands; and I would ne’er have left it,
Had I not left with my beloved, with Neesha.”
So o’er the waves she sang her mournful words,
While to their own dear land and heritage
The Sons of Usna travelled. And delight
Shone on the brows of these, while with their oars
They beat the water-ways, until at length
Beneath Doon Borrig, that long-famous doon
Upon the cliff-high bounds of high-proud Ulster
They put their prows on shore. And Borrig ran
Down to that shore to take their hands on landing.
He made great joy toward Fergus and his sons;
And gave three kisses to the Sons of Usna;
And said to Neesha that great grief was his
That Cormac son of Conor son of Fahtna,
And Duffa Dael of Ulster had not come
North to his doon to take their hands on landing.
Then, in a little while, he said to Fergus:
“I have a feast prepared for thee, O Fergus;
And it belongs to thy high hero-gassa,
And to thy strong high hero-prohibitions,
Both to refuse a feast when offered one,
And to forsake a feast ere it be ended.”
When Fergus heard these words which Borrig spake,
He flushed an angry red from crown to ground.
“Thou hast done ill, O Borrig,” Fergus said,
“To place me under gassa, seeing that Conor
Put my strong word on me to bring the Sons
Of Usna south to Avvin on the day
When they should land in Erin.” Borrig said:
“I place thee under gassa, yea, such gassa,
That no true hero henceforth will endure thee,
Unless thou comest to consume my feast.”
Then Fergus asked of Neesha what to do
Concerning that. “Do,” answered Daerdra, fiercely,
“That which appears the best to thee! Abandon
The Sons of Usna. Drink thy feast. But truly
’Tis a high price to pay for any feast,
Thus to abandon them.” It seemed to Fergus
It was an evil thing to break his gassa
And his high hero-prohibitions. Sadly
He said to Daerdra: “I abandon not
The Sons of Usna; for my own two sons,
True Illann Finn and Bwinn-ye the Rude-Red,
Go at their sides to Avvin. And my word
And warranty go with them too,” said Fergus.
“That is enough of excellence,” said Neesha;
“For no one yet hath e’er defended us
In battle or in combat or in conflict,
Except ourselves.” And Neesha, in great anger,
Moved from the spot. And Daerdra followed him;
And Annly followed, and Ardawn, and all
Their folk and people, and the Sons of Fergus.
Yet it was not with Daerdra’s will and counsel
That they made forth; and they left Fergus there
Gloomy and sorrowful. Howbeit, to Fergus
One thing seemed sure,—that if the Five Great Fifths
Of Erin should take counsel all together,
In the one spot, they still would not attain
To daring to infringe his word and safeguard.
As to the Sons of Usna, they moved forward
By each well-shortened way and fair direction,
Till Daerdra said to them: “O Sons of Usna,
How will it hurt you, though ye wait awhile?
I now would give you a wise, fitting counsel;
Although ye may not do it for me.” Neesha
Replied: “What then, O woman, is thy counsel?”
She said, “To go to Rathlin, there, between
Erin and Alba; and to stay in Rathlin
Till Fergus shall have taken his feast; and that
Will be a keeping of the word of Fergus;
And to yourselves, O glorious Sons of Usna,
’Twill be an increase of your length of princeship.”
“Toward us that is a saying of great ill,”
Said the two sons of Fergus: “and to us
It is impossible to do that counsel.
E’en were there not the might of your own hands
And ours, and the word of powerful Fergus
Protecting you, ye would not be betrayed.”
“Mourning and woe came with that word of Fergus,”
Said Daerdra, “when he left us for a feast.”
And she was in great grief and great dejection
At having come to Erin on the word
Of Fergus. And she said: “Woe that we came
To Erin on the word of too-wild Fergus
The son of Roy; and bitter is my heart.
My heart to-day is as one clot of sorrow
Beneath great shame. Alas! O princely Sons,
Your end of days has come.” Neesha replied:
“Say not these words, O eager, vehement Daerdra,
O woman who art brighter than the sun.
The word and warranty of generous Fergus
Are strong to us.” But still she grieved and said:
“Alas! I grieve for you, O Sons of Usna.
To come from Alba of the red, swift deer,—
Perpetual will be the woe from it.”
After that arguing again they journeyed
By each well-shortened way and fair direction,
Until, half-way upon their way to Avvin,
Daerdra remained behind in a deep glen;
And sleep descended on her; and they left her
Without perceiving it. But in a while
Neesha perceived it; and he turned to meet her;
And she was rising from her sleep. He said:
“Why didst thou stay behind me here, O Queen?”
“I had a sleep,” said Daerdra; “and a vision
And dream appeared to me.” “What dream?” said Neesha.
Daerdra said: “Sad the vision which appeared!
I beheld each of you without his head;
And Illann Finn without his head. Of help
There was not any.” Neesha said to her:
“O Daerdra, heed not visions of thy sleep.
Thy mouth hath sung to us nothing save evil,
O shining, radiant damsel!” Daerdra said:
“Better to me were ill for every man
Than for you three, O gentle Sons of Usna,
With whom I have searched sea and mighty land.”
After those words, again they journeyed forward,
Until they came unto the Height of Willows
Not far from splendid Avvin. And thence Daerdra,
While gazing outward from herself, perceived
A hateful cloud, whereat she said these words:
“O Neesha, look upon thy cloud. I see it
Before me in the air. Above green Avvin
I see a very red, thin cloud of blood.
A sudden starting has laid hold of me
Before yon cloud. Like to a sod of blood
Is yon red, awful cloud I see before me.
And I would counsel you, dear Sons of Usna,
Not to proceed to-night to Avvin Maha,
With all this danger which there is on you;
But let us go instead south to Doon Dalgan,
To Dectora and Sooaltim; and later,
When Fergus shall have come to us, we then
Will go to Avvin.” Neesha angrily
Answered wise, red-cheeked Daerdra: “Since, indeed,
There is no fear on us, we will not do
This counsel which thou givest.” And she, weeping,
Said: “It has seldom happened before this,
O thou descendant of distinguished Rury,
That we have been without accord in counsel,
Myself and thou, O Neesha. On the day
When Manannawn bestowed on us a cup,
Thou wouldst not on that day have been against me,
I say to thee, O Neesha. On the day
When thou didst bear me with thee on our flight
Across white-foaming Assaroe of oars
Thou wouldst not then, indeed, have been against me,
I say to thee, O Neesha.”
After that
They moved ahead by each well-shortened way,
Till they beheld high-glorious Avvin Maha
Before their eyes. O men (said Lowercam),
Owen the son of Doorha, King of Farney,
Had had long strife with Conor; and the price
Which he now paid for peace with powerful Conor
Was this—to watch upon the Green of Avvin
With hirelings; and to slay the Sons of Usna,
So that they might not reach to Conor himself,
And that Conor might not see them. Only Owen,
Of all the men amidst the men of Ulster,
Would have accepted that.
The Sons of Usna
Had reached the midpart of the green, when Owen,
Searching the green through the dim-thickening dusk,
Found Neesha; and, for welcome back to Avvin,
In a fierce, evil, powerful wolf’s-onset,
Gave him a thrust with his long-shafted spear,
So that he clove his back. Then Illann Finn
The son of Fergus threw his own two arms
Round Neesha; and he put him under him,
And lay on him; and he himself was slain.
And, rapidly thereafter, east and west,
Along the plain beneath the dusk-dark vault,
Ardawn and Annly, and all folk and people
Who had come thither with them out of Alba,
Were slain with wounds, till every sod became
A red death-pillow; and each man had fallen
In his sick pool of slaughter and of dying.
After that wounding, after those murder-strokes,
After that falling, after that slaughter, loudly
The men of Ulster cried three cries of woe
And grief and mourning and loud lamentation.
After that falling, after that slaughter, Cathbad
Came on the green; and he cursed Avvin Maha
In punishment for that great ill. He said:
“In punishment for that great ill, no son
Of Conor’s and no man of Conor’s seed
Shall reign in Avvin, even though Conor himself,
Who, till this deed, hath been a great safe Rudder
To all this Fifth, procuring peace with riches,
May yet reign many years.” So Cathbad spake.
His saying is no hidden saying. Soon
Their graves were dug for those three noble ones;
And their three mounds were heaped on them. And Daerdra,
With her hands tied behind her back, was put
In Conor’s house.
O men (said Lowercam),
Her mournful tragic end I tell not now.
I first must speak of Fergus. On the morrow
He swiftly came towards Avvin; and I went
Swiftly myself (said Lowercam) to meet him.
I told him how those three heroic ones,
The Candles of the Valour of the Gael,
The three fleet-footed, harp-voiced Sons of Usna,
Had been betrayed and slain in Avvin Maha,
Though underneath his honour and protection.
Fergus, at first, could not believe that tale.
To him it seemed impossible that Conor,
The regal one, whom he and all the Ultonians
Held in great reverence and love, should so
Have outraged him,—he, Fergus, being moreover
The greatest of the warriors of all Ulster.
When he believed it, word was sent to Cormac
And Duffa Dael; and from Dunseverick
These came to join with Fergus; and with them
Was Feeaha the son of Conall Carna.
The anger of the men cannot be told.
In fury and huge wrath and vehemence
They moved to do their deeds. They gave red battle
To Conor’s household; and with violence
They ravaged and laid bare and scorched and wounded
From east to west and north to south round Avvin;
And Fergus put a fringe of fire round Avvin
To burn it; and no man amidst the men
Of Ulster dared attack them or oppose them.
Then they collected all their folk and people,
Even to the number of a cantred,—thrice
Ten hundred warriors; and they went from Ulster
In rage and wrath. And yet (said Lowercam),
Though thus they put their own dear land behind them,
They could not put behind them their heart-love
For Ulster; but they loved their own land still.
This was the road they went by,—o’er Slieve Foo-id,
Then o’er wide Meath to westward, till they reached
The beautiful, smooth Hill of Usna. There
They stayed awhile; and they deliberated
As to which Fifth to go to,—whether to go
To Finn the son of Ross the Red of Leinster;
Or to Finn’s brother, Carpry Neea Faer;
Or to the far south-west of mirthful Munster
To Cooroi son of Dawra, who, some said,
Was the best chief in Erin. Then one said:
“The best of Fifths is Connaught; and the best
Of kings is Al-yill; and the best of warriors
Is Maev; and Croohan is the place of counsel
For Erin all; since Maev in sway and power
Is as a sovereign of all Erin. Also
In Croohan there are found the choicest heroes
And battle-champions, and the choicest poets
And choicest men of learning and deep science
And knowledge, in the circle of this world.”
That was the counsel which all deemed the best.
A messenger was straightway sent to Croohan;
And Maev and Al-yill made great joy before him.
He said to Maev: “O Queen, thou wilt indeed
Be sovereign o’er wide Erin, if great Fergus
Shall come to aid thee.” And it was not long
Ere Fergus went himself. And when Maev saw him,
She rose to meet him; and she welcomed him,
And kissed him. And the women and the poets
Kissed him, and welcomed him, and welcomed Cormac
And Duffa Dael and all the chiefs from Ulster.
Then Maev herself addressed great Fergus, saying:
“This gift from me to thee, O upright hero,
O Fergus: I will give perpetual keeping
To all thy cantred,—thrice ten hundred men,—
Together with their women and their poets,
And their young lads, and all their folk and gillies;
And thou thyself shalt have a full equipment
For three score powerful men; and thou shalt have
Red gold, in value worth thrice seven bondmaids,
And wine each night in my own house in Croohan.”
Fergus accepted that. And since that day,
Now seven years past, Maev has bestowed on Fergus,
And on the cantred which he brought from Ulster,
That maintenance and keeping which she promised.
Is it not true, O Maev? (said Lowercam)
“Yea, it is true,” said Maev. Then Lowercam,
After a little waiting, said:
O men,
I now must speak of Daerdra, and must tell you
Of her sad, mournful ending. She remained
A year near Conor; and in all that time
She never laughed her gladly smiling laugh,
Or took her fill of food or of deep sleep;
And she ne’er raised her head from off her knees.
And I (said Lowercam) was with her there,
Tending her in that horror and affliction.
When they would bring to her the men of music
And folk of entertainment, she would answer:
“Though beautiful to you your valiant champions
Stepping to Avvin after expeditions,
More beautifully stepped they toward their house,
The three high-valiant, glorious Sons of Usna.
Neesha with burden of mirth-kindling mead;
I with a bath for him and with warm fire;
Ardawn with a slain ox or a fat hog;
And Annly on his high back carrying faggots.
Though sweet to you the rich mirth-kindling mead
Quaffed by the son of Fahtna of great valour,
I have oft known a chase upon a doe,
The food of which was many times more sweet.
When noble Neesha would prepare for us
A cooking-pit within the wild-floored forest,
Sweeter than honey was each kind of food,
Which there the Sons of Usna would make ready.
Though sweet in every month, indeed, to you
Your fluters and your players on the horn,
This thing is what my conscience knows to-day:—
That I have heard a music which was sweeter.
Though sweet to Conor, the renownéd king,
His fluters and his players on the horn,
Sweeter to me was the cloud-rich cloth-nell
The song the Sons of Usna used to sing.
A voice as of the heavy waves had Neesha;
It was sweet music to be ever hearing.
The Cola of Ardawn, it was good music,
And the andord of Annly towards his booth.
Much would I bear of hardness and of want,
When I was with the three delightful heroes;
I would endure without a house or fire;
And ’tis not I that would be sorrowful.
The three shields of the heroes and their spears
Were many a time my bed. O many a time
Have I been with them in a solitude;
But till their death-day I was ne’er alone.
Neesha—his little grave-hill has been made.
My sight departed out of my two eyes
As I beheld the grave of Neesha. Soon
My soul will leave me. I shall find my end.
Belovéd was his spirit firm and just.
Belovéd was the warrior, high, most noble.
After our wandering through the woods of Fawl,
Belovéd was our hidden, lonely rest.
Belovéd was the blue eye dear to women,
And cause of terror to his enemies.
After their circuit of great woods and forests,
Belovéd their andord through the dark way.
I sleep no more. Alas! I sleep no more,
And I stain not my finger-nails with crimson.
No joy comes now upon my mind and spirit,
Since the three noble Sons of Usna come not.
I sleep no more. Alas! I sleep no more
Through half the night-time in my lying-place;
My senses fly away from me in crowds,
Seeing that I now neither eat nor sleep.
I now, to-day, for joy have no occasion;
Or for the pouring of rich mead or ale,
Or for delight or peace or gentle rest,
Or for a house, or for rich covering.”
And when (said Lowercam) Conor would try
To be consoling her and pleasing her,
’Tis then that she would say to him these words:
“O Conor, what, then, art thou thinking of?
Thou hast heaped up on me sorrow and weeping.
That is what I shall have while I shall live.
Thy love for me will not endure for long.
The thing which was most beautiful to me,
Under the heaven, and which was the dearest,
Thou tookest from me,—great the wrongful deed,—
So that I shall not see it till I die.
These things to me are lasting grief and sorrow:—
The death for me of the three Sons of Usna,
A little dark-black cairn o’er the white body
Which was distinguished above countless men.
Two crimson cheeks and lips comely and red,
And eye-lashes as black as is the dael,
And rows of teeth beneath a pearly lustre,
Like to the very noble tint of snow.
Distinguished was his clean and pure array
Amidst the warriors of the men of Alba.
A comely, crimson, fit, five-folding fooan,
With its rich borderings of pure red gold.
An innar of rich royal sról, a treasure
Around him—with one hundred varied gems
Upon its bright and splendid broidery,
And fifty ounces of pure white findrinny.
A golden-hilted sword in his one hand;
And in his second hand two blue-grey spears;
A shield with a surrounding rim of gold;
And on it a bright central boss of silver.
Fergus, the fair-haired, wronged us and betrayed us,
Bringing us hither o’er the mighty sea.
He sold his hero-honour for an ale-feast.
His great and wondrous deeds, indeed, have fallen.
Though they were all upon the plain before me,
The men of Ulster, and thou, Conor, with them,
I,—and I hide it not,—would give them all,
To see the face of Neesha, son of Usna.
Break not my heart, to-day, beneath thy woe.
Soon I shall come unto my early grave.
Sorrow is more powerful than the sea,—
If thou wouldst know it—it is true—O Conor.”
“What dost thou hate the most of all the things
Which thou dost see here?” Conor said to her.
“Thyself,” she said, “and Owen.”
“Thou shalt bide
A year with Owen,” Conor said to her.
He gave her then to Owen. On the morrow
They journeyed to the Fair of Maha. Daerdra
Was behind Owen in a chariot. “Good,
O Daerdra,” Conor, mocking, said to her;
“It is the eye of a sheep between two rams
That thou now hast between myself and Owen.”
There was a cliff of stone against the way.
She threw her head against the cliff of stone,
So that she made bruised fragments of her head,
And she was dead.
There is no more to tell
(Said Lowercam). O men, after that woe
I myself went from Ulster, and I came
To the Black Exile here in Connaught, namely,
To Cormac and to Duffa and to Fergus;
And here, far distant from my native land,
The mists of sad old age lay hold of me.
Lowercam ended; and in that great house
In Croohan on Moy Wee in Connaught, each
Went to his sleeping-place, and all was still.
But Maev stepped forth out of her royal house,
And went to the great mound; and on the mound
Found Fergus standing; and his face was turned
Toward the north-east, toward Ulster. Then Maev laid
Her queenly arm around his royal neck,
And said: “O Fergus, thou hast, verily,
Great love for Ulster, thine own land; and yet
Thou, who wast once the greatest of all warriors
Throughout the Western World, wast scorned, insulted,
And driven forth out of thy native land,
To have thy dwelling in wild desert forests
With foxes and wild deer; and ’tis with us
That thou didst find a country and a land
And an inheritance; and wondrous kindness
We have bestowed on thee. Yea, even, O Fergus,
Because of thy great manliness and vigour,
I gave thee my own love and bare thee sons,
Keear and Corc and Conmac—(great the deed)—
Three goodly sons from whom, in aftertime,
Distinguished clans and kindreds shall descend.
It is now right that without any urging
From us, thou shouldst with care and diligence
Take thy own share of battle on this hosting
And Táin. It would not seem to me too much
Were Conor slain, that thou thyself, O Fergus,
Shouldst become king o’er all the kings of Ulster.”
These were Maev’s words. When they had thus been spoken,
She went again into her royal house
And to her royal bed and sleeping-place.
And Fergus went to his own house and people.
BOOK III
BOOK III
The many bands and troops which Maev had summoned
Began to come upon Moy Wee. The first
(And they arrived upon Moy Wee next day)
Were Maev’s own seven sons, the seven Mahn-yas,
Whom she had borne to Al-yill. These they were:—
Mahn-ya Mathroo-il, who resembled Maev:
Mahn-ya Athroo-il, who resembled Al-yill:
Mahn-ya Mo-aepert, the much-talking Mahn-ya:
Dumb Mahn-ya Toi, the mute and silent Mahn-ya:
Good Mahn-ya More-gar, of great piety
To Al-yill son of Mawta, to his father:
Good Mahn-ya Meen-gar, of great piety
To Maev the daughter of Yohee, to his mother.
Mahn-ya Condagau Illy, who had beauty
From father and from mother, being like both.
Now, at the first, their names had not been Mahn-ya;
But these had been their names:—Faylimy, Carpry,
Yohee, Ket, Fergus, Sheen, and Dawra. Then,
Suddenly, on a day, Maev had bestowed
On each that new name, Mahn-ya. For one day
(And it was many years before this time)
While she was on the playing-field of Croohan,
And they were playing round her, she had said
Unto her Druid: “Say to me, O Druid,
By which of all my sons Conor shall fall.”
“Thou hast not borne him yet,” the Druid answered,
“Unless thou wilt re-name them.” “How is that?
Make this thing clear,” said Maev. The Druid answered:
“By Mahn-ya Conor shall be slain.” Then Maev
Re-named her sons, and gave unto each one
That new name, Mahn-ya; so that by a son
Of hers great Conor son of Fahtna Fahee
Might fall in time to come. (Howbeit, a thing
There was, which was not known to Maev that day:—
It was not Conor son of Fahtna Fahee,
But Conor son of a famed King of Alba,
Of whom the Druid prophesied, and who
Was destined to be slain in time to come
By one of Maev’s own sons.) So now these Mahn-yas
Arrived upon Moy Wee; and each one brought
His cantred, thrice ten hundred men; and all
Encamped upon Moy Wee, and joyfully
Maev saw her valorous offspring.
After these,
The seven sons of Mahga came the next
Upon that plain. They were experienced warriors,
Brethren to Al-yill’s mother, Mawta Murrisc;
And they were scarred and grey. These were their names:—
Anloo-an, Baskell, Maccorb, Scandall, Aen,
Five sons of Mahga. Doha son of Mahga,
Who was—it happened so—a foster-brother
To Laery the Victorious of Loch Laery,
A chief in Ulster. Last, but most renowned,
Ket son of Mahga, who a wolf of evil
Was unto all in Ulster. These arrived,
Each with his cantred (thrice ten hundred men)
On smooth Moy Wee; and on Moy Wee encamped,
And gladly Maev beheld them.
After these
Seven great noble under-kings arrived
From wide and mirthful Munster. To each one
(In order, so, the more to bind him to her)
Maev, through her envoys, secretly had offered
Her daughter, Findabair, the White-beam. Now,
Each of those seven with his cantred came—
His thrice ten hundred—in the hope to wed
That maiden when the hosting should return.
The maiden of that thing knew nought. These camped
On smooth Moy Wee. Maev gladly saw them there.
A warlike cantred next from Leinster came,
Fighters replete with fames and victories.
Their wide blue lance-heads, like those Lawry Ling-sha
Had brought of old across the ocean, flashed
Now, being borne across Moy Wee.
And next
Came a contingent of the Folk of Tara;
And next, some small and varied bands; and then,
A certain small but beautiful bright band,
Mounted on soft, grey mares, which had gold bits
And little bells of gold; the men themselves
Having upon them wan-white laynas, worked
With threads of gold, and, over these, eared bratts
Blue like the sky, and clasped with deep red gold.
Their silver shields and varied weapons, set
With carbuncle and gems of worth, flamed bright
With sparkles, as they faced the westering sun.
This was the band of Frae the son of Eedath,
Whose mother, Baefinn, sister was to Boyne
Of the Immortal Shee. From the Shee-mound
On green Moy Bray, that robing and equipment
Had been bestowed upon him. Findabair,
Far-gazing from the lofty greeanawn
Above the high main gateway of the doon,
Perceived that band arriving on the plain;
Whereat her cheeks and countenance waxed bright
Like sunrise in the month of May. She thought,
Communing with herself, of that past day—
Yet not long past—when, in the same array,
Frae had approached to woo her. And she thought
Upon his beauty on that other day,
During the sojourn he had made at Croohan—
The day when he had swum the dark-pooled stream,
To pluck a branch of rowan red with fruit,
That fringed the further brink. For, beautiful
She had then thought it—o’er the black-dark pool
To see him—his fresh body all clear white,
His hair of radiant brightness, and his eyes
Of blue-green greyness; and the branch with fruit
Between his throat and his bright face. Then e’en
Calling, “Is it not beautiful he looks?”
She had perceived that the wild river-beast
Had caught him in mid-stream. Whereat at once
(Those who were round her being loth and slow)
She, flinging off her raiment, had leapt down
To swim the stream, carrying him a sword,
Wherewith to slay the beast. After that day,
And after some events and happenings,
Al-yill and Maev had said to Frae: “Come, then,
To join our hosting to the land of Cooley.
Bring kine for sustenance to kings and princes.
Bring thy three gentle and far-famed musicians
For gladdening of the Hosts; and, at the end,
When we again shall have returned to Croohan,
Thou shalt have Findabair.” Now, therefore, Frae
Came to the hosting on Moy Wee. He camped
Upon Moy Wee, ere yet the twilight fell;
And Findabair was glad. “I see,” said Maev,
“O daughter, thou art glad to see them there.”
The last of those to come upon Moy Wee
Was the Black Exile. Fergus had sent word
To Cormac, who was then in a far part
Of Connaught; and he hasted not, but now,
Almost at juncture of the day and night,
He came with three great bands, the three together
Making one cantred. From the Green of Croohan
The men of Croohan watched these bands arrive.
The first band was arrayed in bratts of green—
Green like spring-grass, with silvery dagger-pins
Fastening the bratts. Their laynas, stitched with gold,
Descended to their knees. Their shields were long.
A spear with wide grey head and slender shaft
Was in the hand of every man of them.
“Is this now Cormac?” shouted everyone.
“It is not Cormac yet,” responded Maev.
The second band wore bratts of dark black-grey.
Their laynas next their skin, which were bright white,
Descended past their thighs. Their shields were white.
A spear which had five points on one stout shaft
Was in the hand of every man of them.
“Is this now Cormac?” shouted everyone.
“It is not Cormac yet,” responded Maev.
The third band was arrayed in purple bratts
Of hill-heath purple; and their dagger-pins
Above their breasts were all of rich chased gold.
Their silken laynas, rich and soft and smooth,
Descended to their insteps. Their curved shields
Had blade-keen edges; and a towering spear,
Like to a pillar in some kingly stead,
Was in the hand of every man of them.
While they drew near, they all in unison
Lifted their feet, and all in unison
Lowered their feet; so toward the doon they came.
“Is this now Cormac?” shouted everyone.
“Yea, this indeed is Cormac,” answered Maev.
And very gladly on her plain of Wee
Maev saw the Ulster King’s great exiled son.
So the Four Fifths of Erin had assembled
Until they were upon Moy Wee in Connaught.
And on Moy Wee all made their camps that night,
So that between the four famed fords of Wee,
The Ford of Moga and the Ford of Bercna,
The Ford of Slissen and the Ford of Coltna,
The plain was as one cloak of smoke and fire,
With their camp-fires enkindled there that night.
And they remained the space of fifteen nights
Encamped around Rath Croohan; for their poets
And druids would not let them travel forth
Until the end of fifteen days and nights,
While they were waiting for a happy sign
Of luck and fortune to that war and hosting.
Therefore, throughout that time they had regalement
And pleasing drinks and pastime, so that haply
The hardships of their coming war and hosting
Might seem the less severe and hard to them.
When, at the end of all those fifteen nights,
From her high mound and stronghold for outlooking
And for surveying, Maev surveyed those troops
And those vast multitudes and bands and throngs
In point to break up camp and journey east
Upon her war and hosting into Ulster—
Into her mind there came uneasiness,
Doubt and uncertainty and trouble. “Here,”
She said within her mind, “are multitudes
Parting to-day from loved ones and from kindred,
From territory and from heritage,
From father and from mother; and unless
Whole and unharmed they here return again,
It is on me that they will strike their groans
And sighs and curses. And moreover now—
Though I am now (outside high-powerful Ulster)
The greatest ruler through the lands of Erin—
Though I have now assembled this great hosting,
That I may so avenge my bitter groans,
And the disgrace and wrong and shame and insult
Which were inflicted on me in my youth—
Yet there is not true certainty with me
That I shall have success, or that, indeed,
I shall myself escape dark death, or even
That I shall not be captured and be taken
By Conor, and be given a far worse shame,
And a worse wrong and contumely and insult,
Than were inflicted on me in my youth.”
This was the time wherein Maev called and spake
Unto her charioteer, and bade him catch
Her steeds and yoke her chariot, so that straightway
She might repair to speak with her own Druid
And ask for prophecy and knowledge. “Wait
One while, O Queen,” the charioteer made answer,
“That I may three times wheel the chariot round
Sunwise, to win a sign of luck and fortune.”
He wheeled the chariot sunwise, and then Maev
Rode to her Druid. When she reached the Druid,
She asked for prophecy and knowledge. “Here,”
Said Maev, “are many throngs and multitudes
Parting to-day from loved ones and from kindred,
From territory and from heritage,
From father and from mother; and unless
Whole and unharmed they here return again,
It is on me that they will strike their groans
And sighs and curses, for ’tis I alone
Who have assembled all this wondrous hosting.
And yet, let that be as it will. There goes
Not forth to Ulster and there bides not here
Life dearer to us than our own. Find, then,
O Druid, whether we, at least, ourselves,
In safety from this hosting shall return.”
The Druid said, “O great and prosperous Maev,
Daughter of Yóhee Fayla, here I have
Knowledge to hearten and enliven thee:—
This knowledge, namely. Conor son of Fahtna
Lies at this hour in splendid Avvin Maha
In torment and in weakness. On all chiefs
And kings in Ulster, each in his own doon,
Torment and pain and weakness have descended.
This is the curse of Maha daughter of Sanrith;
And here now is the reason of that curse.
Some six score years before the year in which
We speak, Crunniuc the son of Agnoman,
A wealthy brewy of the Ultonians, lived
In Ulster, ’mid high, wild, and lonely moors.
Many sons dwelt with him. His wife was dead.
One day, when he was in his house alone,
A thing occurred. For he perceived a woman
Stately and young move by; and wonderful
He deemed her guise and semblance. He perceived
How, without uttering word, she kneaded, baked,
And milked, and ruled the folk, even as though
She in that stead had e’er been wont to be.
At night she slept with him. So, a long time
They dwelt together; and, through her good rule,
There was no scarcity of each good increase
In viands, vesture, wealth. A festival
Was held in Ulster then. The folk of Ulster,
Both men and wives and growing lads and maids
Were faring to that festival; and Crunniuc
Made to fare thither too. Excellent vesture
Was round him; and a blooming, rich appearance
Was on him. Then the woman said to him:
“It will become thee at that festival
To be discreet, O Crunniuc.” And he went
With every other to the Green of Meeting.
The festival was held. At close of day
The steeds and chariot of the Ulster king
Were brought on to the green; and those two steeds,
Drawing his chariot, gained the victory.
And the hosts cried, “There is not in this world
Aught fleeter than those steeds are!” Crunniuc said:
“My wife is fleeter than the steeds.” Whereat,
He by the king was placed in cords and bonds.
They told the woman that. “’Tis hard,” said she,
“For me to go there to release him now;
Since I am great with child, and nigh my hour.”
“However hard,” the messenger replied,
“Unless thou goest to race with the king’s steeds,
Thy man will presently be slain.” She went
So to the green. Then, when she reached the green,
Her pangs of travail came on her. She cried
Aloud unto the hosts. “Help me,” said she.
“Help me. Show mercy; for it was a mother
Who bore each one of you. Grant me delay
Until I be delivered.” By them all
She was refused that respite and delay.
“Then,” she called out, “worse ill shall come of it—
Ill that shall press on the Ultonians all
For a long space of time.” “What is thy name?”
The king put query to her. “I will tell
My name,” said she. “Moreover, by the name
Of that Birth I shall bear, this green for ever
Will be denominated. I am Maha
Daughter of Sanrith son of Imba.” Then
She raced the chariot. Even with the speed
Of windy ripples blown athwart a mere
Or of blown foam flitting o’er some sea-strand,
She raced the chariot; and she reached the goal,
And, ere the chariot too had reached the goal,
She was delivered; and she brought forth twins,
“The Twins of Maha,” “Avvin Maha.” This,
Then, “Avvin Maha,” thus became the name
Whereby that green is known. Now, she had cried
With agony of childbirth, and each man
Who heard that cry immediately was cast
Into great helplessness and grief and pain.
She said: “Ye men of Ulster, from this hour—
For nine full generations from this hour—
When most oppression from your enemies
Falls on your country, then on every man
Descended from you men who here to-day
Have done this shame to me, there shall come down
A curse of torment and of pain and weakness,
Like to the pain and weakness of a woman
Approaching to her hour. And three alone,
Namely, the women and the tender children,
And also he who will be named Cucullin,
Shall be exempted from this Curse.
This Curse,
Namely, the Kesh upon the Ulster warriors,
It is,” the Druid said, “O Queen, which now—Now
when thy mighty hosts fare forth to Ulster—
Has fallen on each Ulster chief and king.”
So spake the Druid, yielding knowledge. Then
Maev answered: “Long ago I heard that tale,
What time I was in Avvin in my youth,
When I had been given to Conor against my will.
This is the thing which I have hoped for, ever.
And not long since, just ere Mac Roth returned
From Cooley, certain of my envoys came
From spying out proud Ulster; and I knew
By their sure words that at this time the Kesh
Was falling on the Ulster chiefs and kings.
E’en had their bull been rendered eagerly,
We should have gone to Ulster at this time.
And yet a cloud of darkness and of doubt
And apprehension weighs on me. Find then,
O Druid, whether we, at least, ourselves,
In safety shall return.” The Druid said,
“Whoever may return or not return,
Thou wilt return thyself.” The charioteer
Then turned the chariot round; and Maev came back.
Then, even as Maev came, she saw a thing
Which was to her a wonder; for she saw,
Fronting her, poised upon a chariot-pole,
A just-grown maid move towards her. In this way
That maid was. In her right hand she was holding
A weaving-sword of white findrinny, set
With hooklets of red gold; and she was weaving
A bordering fringe. Folded around her shape,
A bratt of leafy green, chequered and pied,
Was held by a full fruit-like heavy clasp
Over her breast. Her face was rosy, bright.
Her eyes were laughing, blue; and her two lips
Were shapely-thin and red. Within her lips
Her teeth were glistering, pearly-glimmering—
One might have deemed a white rain-shower of pearls
Had rained in there. Her light, long, yellow hair
Divided; three gold tresses of it wound
About her head; another long gold tress
Fell round her, making shade around her calves.
Her feet were long and slender, very white.
Her nails were trim and sharp and crimson-stained.
Whiter than snow in one night softly fallen,
The whiteness of her flesh was, where it shined
And gleamed athwart her quivering, blown apparel.
Maev looked at her. “What makest thou?” said Maev,
“O damsel now and here?” The maiden spoke;
And, when she spoke, as sweet as are the strings
Of peakéd harps played by the skilful hands
Of master-players, was the sweet, clear sound
Of her calm, pleasant voice and utterance.
“I am illuminating and revealing,”
She said, “O Queen, the profit and the loss
Which are before thee now, while thou dost gather,
And muster here the Four great Fifths of Erin,
To go unto the land of Ulster.” “Wherefore
Dost thou this thing for me?” Maev asked of her.
“I have much cause,” she said, “I am indeed
A handmaid ’mid thy people.” “Of my people
Who art thou?” Maev made question. And the maid
Replied, “Not hard to tell; for I am Fedelm,
A prophetess from ’midst thy unseen Shee.
At Sowin, now, out of thy green Shee-mound
Of Croohan, I have come, O Queen, to thee.”
And it was then that Maev began to ask
For prophecy; and Fedelm answered her.
And this is what was said between them there.
Maev said: “Speak then, O Fedelm, Prophetess,
How seest thou our great hosts?” And Fedelm answered:
“I see them red. I see them crimson-red.”
“Conor the son of Fahtna lies,” said Maev,
“In Avvin in his Kesh, the curse of Maha.
My messengers were there; and there is nothing
That we need dread, now, from the men of Ulster.
But speak the truth, O Fedelm, Prophetess—
How seest thou these our hosts?” Fedelm replied:
“I see them red. I see them crimson-red.”
“Cooscree Mend Maha, Conor’s son,” said Maev,
“Lies in his Kesh in his own Innish Cooscree.
My messengers were there; and there is nothing
That we need fear, now, from the men of Ulster.
But speak the truth, O Fedelm, Prophetess—How
seest thou our great hosts?” Fedelm replied:
“I see them red. I see them crimson-red.”
“Owen the son of Doorha lies,” said Maev,
“In his own rath, Rath Aer-heer, in his Kesh.
My messengers were there, and there is nothing
That we need fear, now, from the men of Ulster.
But speak the truth, O Fedelm, Prophetess.
How seest thou our great hosts?” Fedelm repeated:
“I see them red. I see them crimson-red.”
“This is not truth, O Prophetess,” said Maev.
“Keltar the son of Oo-hider,” said Maev,
“With a full third of all the men of Ulster,
Lies in his Kesh in Doon Le-glass. And Fergus
The son of Roy the son of Yóhee Lenny,
Is with us here in exile, and he has
His thrice ten hundred men; and we shall surely
Bring victory and triumph out of Ulster.
Speak then the truth, O Fedelm, Prophetess,
How seest thou these great hosts?” She still repeated:
“I see them red. I see them crimson-red.”
“This thing to me,” said Maev, “is not the same
As ’tis to thee. For when the men of Erin
Shall meet in the one place, there will be quarrels,
Occasions of dissension and disunion,
And frays and fallings-out and feuds and broils—
About their being in the van or rear,
And about fords and rivers, and about
First-slaying of swine and hares and stags and deer.
Then look again for us, O Prophetess,
And speak the truth to us.” The maiden answered:
“I see them red. I see them crimson-red.
I see a man who will perform great feats.”
And she began to sing and prophesy
And to foretell things that would be thereafter.
And this was what she sang then at that time.
“I see a man youthful and very fair,
Who will perform great deeds, and win his fill
Of hurts and wounds in his smooth fine-fair skin.
Upon his brow, which is a meeting-place
For victories, the hero’s light flames high.
Amidst each eye the seven dragon-gems
Of a pure hero-champion flame and burn.
Plain to perceive, his intellect is keen.
A red hooked layna folds him. His fresh face
Is beautiful and noble. He observes
Towards women courtesy and modesty.
Though a mere stripling, blooming, dainty-cheeked,
He in the battle shows a dragon’s form.
His fairness and his valour now resemble
Cucullin of Mweerhevna; and though, truly,
Who this Cucullin of green Moy Mweerhevna
May be I know not, yet this thing I know—
These hosts by him will all be very red.
Four little swords for feats of special skill
He carries in each hand: he will attain
To plying these upon the hosts: the hosts
Will flee from him on every road and way.
When, in addition to his spear and sword,
He brings his dread Gae Bulg, he plants his feet
On every slope and hill. Two spears project
O’er his bright chariot-wheels: he rides to battle.
Fury distorts him, battle-fury changes
That form which hitherto I have perceived.
He is Cucullin son of Sooaltim,
Hound of the Forge: he wends unto a battle.
Your hosts, now whole, he will hack down and fell.
He will compel your slain thickly to lie.
Strong men will leave their heads with him. This I,
Fedelm the Prophetess, will not conceal.
Red blood shall drip from the white skins of heroes—
Lasting and long the memory shall be—
Bodies shall there be torn, women shall wail,
Through deeds of that renowned Hound of the Forge,
Whom now, O Queen, I see.”
The Prophetess
Ended her prophecy: and Maev rode back
From seeking-out of prophecy and knowledge.
[Illustration: “MAEV RIDES FORTH TO SPEAK WITH HER DRUID.”]
BOOK IV
BOOK IV