little Lusmore. He listened, and he thought that he had never heard such
ravishing music before. It was like the sound of many voices, each
mingling and blending with the others so strangely that they seemed to
be one, though all singing different strains, and the words of the songs
were these:
Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort,
Da Luan, Da Mort;
when there would be a moment's pause, and then the round of melody went
on again.
Lusmore listened attentively, scarcely drawing his breath, lest he
might lose the slightest note. He now plainly perceived that the singing
was within the moat; and though at first it had charmed him much, he
began to get tired of hearing the same round sung over and over so often
without any change; so, availing himself of the pause when Da Luan, Da
Mort, had been sung three times, he took up the tune, and raised it with
the words augus Da Dardeen, and then went on singing with the voices
inside of the moat, Da Luan, Da Mort, finishing the melody, when the
pause came again, with augus Da Dardeen.
The fairies within Knockgrafton, for the song was a fairy melody, when
they heard this addition to the tune, were so much delighted that with
instant resolve it was determined to bring the mortal among them whose
musical skill so far exceeded theirs, and little Lusmore was conveyed
into their company with the eddying speed of a whirlwind.
Glorious to behold was the sight that burst upon him as he came down
through the moat, twirling round and round, with the lightness of a
straw, to the sweetest music, that kept time to his motion. The greatest
honour was then paid him, for he was put above all the musicians, and he
had servants tending upon him and everything to his heart's content, and
a hearty welcome to all; and, in short, he was made as much of as if he
had been the first man in the land.
Presently Lusmore saw a great consultation going on among the fairies,
and, notwithstanding all their civility, he felt very much frightened,
until one, stepping out from the rest, came up to him and said:
Lusmore! Lusmore!
Doubt not, nor deplore,
For the hump which you bore
On your back is no more;
Look down on the floor,
And view it, Lusmore!
When these words were said, poor little Lusmore felt himself so light
and so happy that he thought he could have bounded at one jump over the
moon, like the cow in the history of the cat and the fiddle; and he saw,
with inexpressible pleasure, his hump tumble down upon the ground from
his shoulders. He then tried to lift up his head, and did so with
becoming caution, fearing that he might knock it against the ceiling of
the great hall where he was. He looked round and round again with the
greatest wonder and delight upon everything, which appeared more and
more beautiful; and, overpowered at beholding such a resplendent scene,
his head grew dizzy and his eyesight grew dim. At last he fell into a
sound sleep, and when he awoke he found that it was broad daylight, the
sun shining brightly, and the birds singing sweetly, and that he was
lying just at the foot of Knockgrafton, with the cows and sheep grazing
peaceably about him. The first thing Lusmore did, after saying his
prayers, was to put his hand behind to feel for his hump, but no sign of
one was there on his back, and he looked at himself with great pride,
for he had now become a well-shaped, dapper little fellow, and, more
than that, found himself in a full suit of new clothes, which he
concluded the fairies had made for him.
Towards Cappagh he went, stepping out as lightly and springing up at
every step as if he had been all his life a dancing-master. Not a
creature who met Lusmore knew him without his hump, and he had a great
work to persuade everyone that he was the same man--in truth he was not
as far as the outward appearance went.
Of course it was not long before the story of Lusmore's hump got about,
and a great wonder was made of it. Through the country for miles round
it was the talk of everyone, high and low.
One morning, as Lusmore was sitting, contented enough, at his cabin
door, up came an old woman to him, and asked him if he could direct her
to Cappagh.
"I need give you no directions, my good woman," said Lusmore, "for this
is Cappagh. And whom may you want here?"
"I have come," said the woman, "out of Decies country, in the county of
Waterford, looking after one Lusmore, who, I have heard tell, had his
hump taken off by the fairies; for there is a son of a gossip of mine
who has got a hump on him that will be his death; and, maybe, if he
could use the same charm as Lusmore the hump may be taken off him. And
now I have told you the reason of my coming so far; 'tis to find out
about this charm if I can."
Lusmore, who was ever a good-natured little fellow, told the woman all
the particulars, how he had raised the tune for the fairies at
Knockgrafton, how his hump had been removed from his shoulders, and how
he had got a new suit of clothes into the bargain.
The woman thanked him very much and then went away, quite happy and
easy in her own mind. When she came back to her gossip's house, in the
county of Waterford, she told her everything that Lusmore had said, and
they put the little hump-backed man, who was a peevish and cunning
creature from his birth, upon a car, and took him all the way across the
country. It was a long journey, but they did not care for that, so the
hump was taken from off him; so they brought him just at nightfall, and
left him under the old moat of Knockgrafton.
Jack Madden, for that was the humpy man's name, had not been sitting
there long when he heard the tune going on within the moat much sweeter
than before; for the fairies were singing it the way Lusmore had settled
their music for them, and the song was going on, Da Luan, Da Mort, Da
Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort, augus Da Dardeen, without ever
stopping. Jack Madden, who was in a great hurry to get quit of his hump,
never thought of waiting till the fairies had done, or watching for a
fit opportunity to raise the tune higher than Lusmore had; so, having
heard them sing it over seven times without stopping, out he bawls,
never minding the time or the humour of the tune, or how he could bring
his words in properly, augus Da Dardeen, augus Da Hena, thinking that if
one day was good two were better, and that, if Lusmore had one suit of
clothes given him, he should have two.
No sooner had the words passed his lips than he was taken up and whisked
into the moat with prodigious force, and the fairies came crowding round
about him with great anger, screeching and screaming, and roaring out,
"Who spoiled our tune? Who spoiled our tune?" And one stepped up to him
above all the rest and said:
Jack Madden! Jack Madden!
Your words came so bad in
The tune we felt glad in;--
This castle you're had in,
That your life we may sadden;
Here's two humps for Jack Madden!
And twenty of the strongest fairies brought Lusmore's hump and put it
down upon poor Jack's back, over his own, where it became fixed as
firmly as if it was nailed on with twelvepenny nails by the best
carpenter that ever drove one. Out of their castle they then kicked him;
and in the morning, when Jack Madden's mother and her gossip came to
look after their little man, they found him half dead, lying at the foot
of the moat, with the other hump upon his back. Well, to be sure, how
they did look at each other, but they were afraid to say anything lest a
hump might be put upon their shoulders. Home they brought the unlucky
Jack Madden with them, as downcast in their hearts and their looks as
ever two gossips were; and what through the weight of his other hump and
the long journey he died soon after, leaving, they say, his heavy curse
to anyone who would go to listen to fairy tunes again.
T. CROFTON CROKER.
The Stolen Child
There dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island,
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berries,
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than
you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances,
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than
you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout,
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than
you can understand.
Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside;
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For he comes, the human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
From a world more full of weeping than
he can understand.
W. B. YEATS.
Lay of Oisin on the Land of Youth
One day we, the Fianna, were all assembled, generous Fionn and all of us
that lived were there; we were hunting on a misty morning nigh the
bordering shores of Loch Lein, where through fragrant trees of sweetest
blossoms, and the mellow music of birds at all times, we aroused the
hornless deer of the best bounding, course, and agility; our hounds and
all our dogs were close after in full chase.
'Twas not long till we saw, westwards, a fleet rider advancing towards
us, a young maiden of most beautiful appearance, on a slender white
steed of swiftest power. We all ceased from the chase on seeing the form
of the royal maid; 'twas a surprise to Fionn and the Fianns, they never
beheld a woman equal in beauty. A royal crown was on her head, and a
brown mantle of precious silk, spangled with stars of red gold, covering
her shoes down to the grass. A gold ring was hanging down from each
yellow curl of her golden hair; her eyes were blue, clear, and
cloudless, like a dewdrop on the top of the grass. Redder were her
cheeks than the rose, fairer was her visage than the swan upon the wave,
and more sweet was the taste of her balsam lips than honey mingled
through red wine. A garment, wide, long, and smooth, covered the white
steed; there was a comely saddle of red gold, and her right hand held a
bridle with a golden bit. Four shoes, well shaped, were under him, of
the yellow gold of the purest quality; a silver wreath was on the back
of his head, and there was not in the world a steed better.
She came to the presence of Fionn, and spoke with a voice sweet and
gentle, and she said, "O King of the Fianna, long and distant is my
journey now."
"Who art thou thyself, O youthful princess! of fairest form, beauty, and
countenance? Relate to us the cause of thy story, thine own name and thy
country."
"Golden-headed Niamh is my name, O sage Fionn of the great hosts. Beyond
the women of the world I have won esteem; I am the fair daughter of the
King of Youth."
"Relate to us, O amiable princess, what caused thee to come afar across
the sea--is it thy consort has forsaken thee, or what is the affliction
that is on thyself?"
"'Tis not my husband that went from me; and as yet I have not been
spoken of with any man, O King of the Fianna of highest repute; but
affection and love I have given to thy son."
"Which of my children is he, O blooming daughter, to whom thou hast
given love, or yet affection? Do not conceal from us now the cause, and
relate to us thy case, O woman."
"I will tell thee that, O Fionn! Thy noble son of the well-tempered
arms, high-spirited Oisin of the powerful hands, is the champion that I
am now speaking of."
"What is the reason that thou gavest love, O beautiful daughter of the
glossy hair, to my own son beyond all, and multitudes of high lords
under the sun?"
"'Tis not without cause, O King of the Fianna! I came afar for him--but
reports I heard of his prowess, the goodness of his person and his mien.
"Many a son of a king and a high chief gave me affection and perpetual
love; I never consented to any man till I gave love to noble Oisin."
"By that hand on thee, O Patrick, though it is not shameful to me as a
story, there was not a limb of me but was in love with the beautiful
daughter of the glossy hair."
I, Oisin, took her hand in mine, and said in speech of sweetest tone, "A
true, gentle welcome before thee, O young princess, to this country!
'Tis thou art the brightest and the fairest of form, 'tis thee I prefer
as wife, thou art my choice beyond the women of the world, O mild star
of loveliest countenance!"
"Obligations unresisted by true heroes, O generous Oisin, I put upon
thee to come with myself now upon my steed till we arrive at the 'Land
of Youth.' It is the most delightful country to be found, of greatest
repute under the sun, trees drooping with fruit, and blossom and foliage
growing on the tops of boughs. Abundant, there, are honey and wine and
everything that eye has beheld; there will not come decline on thee with
lapse of time; death or decay thou wilt not see. Thou wilt get feasts,
playing, and drink; thou wilt get melodious music on the harp strings;
thou wilt get silver and gold; thou wilt get also many jewels. Thou wilt
get the royal diadem of the 'King of Youth,' which he never yet gave to
any person under the sun; 'twill protect thee both night and day, in
battle, in tumult, and in rough conflict. Thou wilt get a fitting coat
of protecting mail, and a gold-headed sword apt for strokes, from which
no person ever escaped alive who once saw the sharp weapon. Thou wilt
get everything I promised thee, and delights, also, which I may not
mention; thou wilt get beauty, strength, and power, and I myself will be
thy wife."
"No refusal will I give from me," said I, "O charming queen of the
golden curls! Thou art my choice above the women of the world, and I
will go with willingness to the 'Land of Youth.'"
On the back of the steed we went together. Before me sat the virgin; she
said, "Oisin, let us remain quiet till we reach the mouth of the great
sea."
Then arose the steed swiftly; when we arrived on the borders of the
strand he shook himself then to pace forward, and neighed three times
aloud.
When Fionn and the Fianna saw the steed travelling swiftly, facing the
great tide, they raised three shouts of mourning and grief.
"O Oisin!" said Fionn slowly and sorrowfully, "woe it is to me that thou
art going from me; I have not a hope that thou wilt ever again come back
to me victorious."
His form and beauty changed, and showers of tears flowed down, till they
wet his breast and his bright visage, and he said, "My woe art thou, O
Oisin, in going from me!"
O Patrick, 'twas a melancholy story our parting from each other in that
place, the parting of the father from his own son--'tis mournful, weak,
and faint to be relating it! I kissed my father sweetly and gently, and
the same affection I got from him. I bade adieu to all the Fianna, and
the tears flowed down my cheeks. We turned our backs to the land and our
faces directly due west; the smooth sea ebbed before us and filled in
billows after us. We saw wonders in our travels, cities, courts, and
castles, lime-white mansions and fortresses, brilliant summer-houses and
palaces. We also saw, by our sides, a hornless fawn leaping nimbly, and
a red-eared white dog, urging it boldly in the chase. We beheld also,
without fiction, a young maid on a brown steed, a golden apple in her
right hand, and she going on the top of the waves. We saw after her a
young rider on a white steed, under a purple, crimson mantle of satin,
and a gold-headed sword in his right hand.
"Who are yon two whom I see, O gentle princess? Tell me the meaning, of
that woman of most beautiful countenance and the comely rider of the
white steed."
"Heed not what thou wilt see, O gentle Oisin, nor what thou hast yet
seen; there is in them but nothing, till we reach the land of the 'King
of Youth.'"
We saw from us afar a sunny palace of beautiful front; its form and
appearance were the most beauteous that were to be found in the world.
"What exceeding fine royal mansion, and also the best that eye hath
seen, is this that we are travelling near to, or who is high chief of
that place?"
"The daughter of the King of the 'Land of Life' is Queen, yet in that
fortress she was taken by Fomhor Builleach, of Dromloghach, with violent
strength of arms and activity. Obligation she put upon the brave never
to make her a wife till she got a champion or true hero to stand battle
with him hand to hand."
"Take success and blessings, O golden-headed Niamh. I have never heard
better music than the gentle voice of thy sweet mouth; great grief to us
is a woman of her condition. I will go now to visit her to the fortress,
and it may be for us it is fated that that great hero should fall by me,
in feats of activity as is wont to me."
We went then into the fortress. To us came the youthful Queen. Equal in
splendour was she to the sun, and she bade us a hundred welcomes.
There was apparel of yellow silk on the Queen of excellent beauty. Her
chalk-white skin was like the swan on the wave, and her cheeks were of
the colour of the rose. Her hair was of a golden hue, her blue eyes
clear and cloudless; her honey lips of the colour of the berries, and
her slender brows of loveliest form.
Then we there sat down, each of us on a chair of gold. There was laid
out for us abundance of food and drinking-horns filled with beer. When
we had taken a sufficiency of food and much sweet drinking wines, then
spoke the mild young princess, and thus said she, "Hearken to me
awhile." She told us the knowledge and cause of her tale, and the tears
flowed down her cheeks. She said, "My return is not to my own country
whilst the great giant shall be alive."
"Be silent, O young princess! Give o'er thy grief and do not mourn, and
I give to thee my hand that the giant of slaughter shall fall by me!"
"There's not a champion now to be found of greatest repute under the sun
to give battle hand to hand to the bold giant of the hard blows."
"I tell to thee, O gentle queen, I am not daunted at his coming to meet
me. Unless he fall by me, by the strength of my arms, I will fall myself
in thy defence."
'Twas not long till we saw approaching the powerful giant that was most
repulsive. A load was on him of the skins of deer, and an iron bar in
his hand. He did not salute or bow to us, but looked into the
countenance of the young maiden, proclaimed battle and great conflict,
and I myself went to meet him. During three nights and three days we
were in the great contest; though powerful was he, the valiant giant, I
beheaded him without delay.
When the two young maidens saw the great giant lying motionless, weak
and low, they uttered three joyful cries, with great boasting and
merriment.
We then went to the fortress, and I was bruised, weak, and feeble,
shedding blood in great abundance coming closely out of my wounds. The
daughter of the "King of the Living" came in truth to relieve myself.
She put balm and balsam in my wounds, and I was whole after her.
We consumed our feast with pleasure, and then we were merry after. In
the fortress were prepared for us warm beds of the down of birds. We
buried the great man in a deep sod-grave, wide and clear. I raised his
flag and monument, and I wrote his name in Ogham Craobh.
On the morrow, at the appearance of day, we awoke out of our slumbers.
"It is time for us," said the daughter of the King, "to go without delay
to our own land."
We prepared ourselves without a stay, and we took our leave of the
virgin. We were sorrowful and sad after her, and not less after us was
the refulgent maid.
We turned our backs on the fortress, and our horse under us in full
speed, and swifter was the white steed than March wind on the mountain
summit. Ere long the sky darkened and the wind arose in every point, the
great sea lit up strongly, and sight of the sun was not to be found. We
gazed awhile on the clouds and on the stars that were under gloom. The
tempest abated and the wind, and Phoebus brightened o'er our heads.
We beheld by our side a most delightful country, under full bloom, and
plains, beautiful, smooth, and fine, and a royal fortress of surpassing
beauty. Not a colour that eye has beheld of rich blue, green, and white,
or purple, crimson, and of yellow, but was in this royal mansion that I
am describing. There were at the other side of the fortress radiant
summer-houses and palaces made, all of precious stones, by the hands of
skilful men and great artists.
Ere long we saw approaching from the fortress to meet us three fifties
of champions of best agility, appearance, fame, and of highest repute.
"What beauteous country is that, O gentle daughter of the golden locks?
Of best aspect that the eye has seen; or is it the 'Land of Youth'?"
"It is, truly, O generous Oisin! I have not told you a lie concerning
it; there is nothing I promised thyself but is manifest to thee for
ever."
To us came after that a hundred maids of exquisite beauty,
under-garments of silk filled with gold, welcoming me to their own
country. We saw again approaching a multitude of glittering bright
hosts, and a noble, great, and powerful King of matchless grace, form,
and countenance. There was a yellow shirt of silken satin and a bright
golden garment over it; there was a sparkling crown of gold, radiant and
shining, upon his head. We saw coming after him the young Queen of
highest repute, and fifty virgins sweet and mild, of most beautiful
form, in her company. When all arrived in one spot, then courteously
spoke the "King of Youth," and said, "This is Oisin, the son of Fionn,
the gentle consort of 'Golden-headed Niamh'!"
He took me then by the hand and said aloud to the hearing of the host,
"O brave Oisin! O son of the King! A hundred thousand welcomes to you!
This country into which thou comest, I'll not conceal its tidings from
you, in truth, long and durable is your life, and thou thyself shalt be
ever young. There's not a delight on which the heart hath mused but is
in this land awaiting thee. O Oisin! believe me in truth, for I am King
of the 'Land of Youth'! This is the gentle Queen and my own daughter,
the Golden-headed Niamh, who went over the smooth seas for thee to be
her consort for ever."
I gave thanks to the King and I bowed down to the gentle Queen; nor
stayed we there, but proceeded soon, till we reached the royal mansion
of the "King of Youth." There came the nobles of the fine fortress, both
men and women, to meet us; there was a feast and banquet continuously
there for ten nights and ten days.
I espoused "Golden-headed Niamh," O Patrick from Rome of white croziers!
That is how I went to the "Land of Youth," tho' woeful and grievous to
me to relate. I had, by Golden-headed Niamh, of children of surpassing
beauty and bloom, of best form, shape, and countenance, two young sons
and a gentle daughter. I spent a time protracted in length, three
hundred years and more, until I thought 'twould be my desire to see
Fionn and the Fianna alive. I asked leave of the King and of my kind
spouse, Golden-headed Niamh, to go to Erin back again to see Fionn and
his great host.
"Thou wilt get leave from me," said the gentle daughter, "though 'tis a
sorrowful tale to me to hear you mention it, lest thou mayest not come
again in your life to my own land, O victorious Oisin!"
"What do we dread, O blooming Queen? Whilst the white steed is at my
service he will teach me the way with ease, and will return safe back to
thyself."
"Remember, O Oisin! what I am saying. If thou layest foot on level
ground thou shalt not come again for ever to this fine land in which I
am myself. I say to thee again without guile, if thou alightest once off
the white steed thou wilt never more come to the 'Land of Youth,' O
golden Oisin of the warlike arms! I say to thee for the third time, if
thou alightest off the steed thyself thou wilt be an old man, withered
and blind, without activity, without pleasure, without run, without
leap. 'Tis a woe to me, O loving Oisin, that thou ever goest to green
Erin; 'tis not now as it has been; and thou never shalt see Fionn of the
hosts. There is not now in all Erin but a father of orders and hosts of
saints. O loving Oisin, here is my kiss; thou wilt never return to the
'Land of Youth'!"