Then Liban said, as we that mount sat under: "Would I could see--'twould be a marvel strange-- Yet, if I saw it, dear would be that wonder, if to Cuchulain's form thy form could change."

Great is the beauty of Aed Abra's daughters, Unfettered men before them conquered fall; Fand's beauty stuns, like sound of rushing waters, Before her splendour kings and queens seem small.

Though I confess, as from the wise ones hearing, That Adam's race was once unstained by sin; - Yet did I swear, when Fand was there appearing, None in past ages could such beauty win.

I saw the champions stand with arms for slaying, Right splendid was the garb those heroes bore; Gay coloured garments, meet for their arraying, 'Twas not the vesture of rude churls they wore.

Women of music at the feast were sitting, A brilliant maiden bevy near them stood; And forms of n.o.ble youths were upwards flitting Through the recesses of the mountain wood.

I saw the folk of song; their strains rang sweetly, As for the lady in that house they played; Had I not I fled away from thence, and fleetly, Hurt by that music, I had weak been made.

I know the hill where Ethne took her station, And Ethne Inguba's a lovely maid; But none can drive from sense a warlike nation Save she alone, in beauty then displayed.

And Cuchulain, when he had heard that report, went on with Liban to that land, and he took his chariot with him. And they came to the Island of Labraid, and there Labraid and all the women that were there bade them welcome; and Fand gave an especial welcome to Cuchulain. "What is there now set for us to do?" said Cuchulain. "No hard matter to answer," said Labraid; "we must go forth and make a circuit about the army." They went out then, and they came to the army, and they let their eyes wander over it; and the host seemed to them to be innumerable. "Do thou arise, and go hence for the present," said Cuchulain to Labraid; and Labraid departed, and Cuchulain remained confronting the army. And there were two ravens there, who spake, and revealed Druid secrets, but the armies who heard them laughed. "It must surely be the madman from Ireland who is there," said the army; "it is he whom the ravens would make known to us;" and the armies chased them away so that they found no resting-place in that land.

Now at early morn Eochaid Juil went out in order to bathe his hands in the spring, and Cuchulain saw his shoulder through the hood of his tunic, and he hurled his spear at him, and he pierced him. And he by himself slew thirty-and-three of them, and then Senach the Unearthly a.s.sailed him, and a great fight was fought between them, and Cuchulain slew him; and after that Labraid approached, and he brake before him those armies.

Then Labraid entreated Cuchulain to stay his hand from the slaying; and "I fear now," said Laeg, "that the man will turn his wrath upon us; for he hath not found a war to suffice him. Go now," said Laeg, "and let there be brought three vats of cold water to cool his heat. The first vat into which he goeth shall boil over; after he hath gone into the second vat, none shall be able to bear the heat of it: after he hath gone into the third vat, its water shall have but a moderate heat."

And when the women saw Cuchulain's return, Fand sang thus: Fidga's[1] plain, where the feast a.s.sembles, Shakes this eve, as his car he guides; All the land at the trampling trembles; Young and beardless, in state he rides.

Blood-red canopies o'er him swinging Chant, but not as the fairies cry; Deeper ba.s.s from the car is singing, Deeply droning, its wheels reply.

Steeds are bounding beneath the traces, None to match them my thought can find; Wait a while! I would note their graces: On they sweep, like the spring's swift wind.

High in air, in his breath suspended, Float a fifty of golden b.a.l.l.s; Kings may grace in their sports have blended, None his equal my mind recalls.

[1. p.r.o.nounced, nearly, Fee-ga.]

Dimples four on each cheek are glowing, One seems green, one is tinged with blue, One dyed red, as if blood were flowing, One is purple, of lightest hue.

Sevenfold light from his eyeb.a.l.l.s flashes, None may speak him as blind, in scorn; Proud his glances, and dark eyelashes Black as beetle, his eyes adorn.

Well his excellence fame confesses, All through Erin his praise is sung; Three the hues of his high-piled tresses; Beardless yet, and a stripling young.

Red his blade, it hath late been blooded; Shines above it its silver hilt; Golden bosses his shield have studded, Round its rim the white bronze is spilt.

O'er the slain in each slaughter striding, War he seeketh, at risk would s.n.a.t.c.h: Heroes keen in your ranks are riding, None of these is Cuchulain's match.

From Murthemne he comes, we greet him, Young Cuchulain, the champion strong; We, compelled from afar to meet him, Daughters all of Aed Abra, throng.

Every tree, as a lordly token, Stands all stained with the red blood rain War that demons might wage is woken, Wails peal high as he raves again.

Liban moreover bade a welcome to Cuchulain, and she chanted as follows: Hail to Cuchulain!

Lord, who canst aid; Murthemne ruling, Mind undismayed; Hero-like, glorious, Heart great and still Battle-victorious, Firm rock of skill; Redly he rageth, Foemen would face; Battle he wageth Meet for his race!

Brilliant his splendour, like maidens' eyes, Praises we render: praise shall arise!

"Tell us now of the deeds thou hast done, O Cuchulain! cried Liban, and Cuchulain in this manner replied to her: From my hand flew a dart, as I made my cast, Through the host of Stream-Yeogan the javelin pa.s.sed; Not at all did I know, though great fame was won, Who my victim had been, or what deed was done.

Whether greater or less was his might than mine I have found not at all, nor can right divine; In a mist was he hid whom my spear would slay, Yet I know that he went not with life away.

A great host on me closed, and on every side Rose around me in hordes the red steeds they ride; From Manannan, the Son of the Sea, came foes, From Stream-Yeogan to call them a roar arose.

And I went to the battle with all at length, When my weakness had pa.s.sed, and I gat full strength; And alone with three thousands the fight I fought, Till death to the foes whom I faced was brought.

I heard Echaid Juil's groan, as he neared his end, The sound came to mine ears as from lips of friend; Yet, if truth must be told, 'twas no valiant deed, That cast that I threw, if 'twas thrown indeed.

Now, after all these things had pa.s.sed, Cuchulain slept with the lady, and he abode for a month in her company, and at the end of the month he came to bid her farewell. "Tell me," she said, "to what place I may go for our tryst, and I will be there;" and they made tryst at the strand that is known as the Strand of the Yew-Tree's Head.

Now word was brought to Emer of that tryst, and knives were whetted by Emer to slay the lady; and she came to the place of the tryst, and fifty women were with her. And there she found, Cuchulain and Laeg, and they were engaged in the chess-play, so that they perceived not the women's approach. But Fand marked it, and she cried out to Laeg: "Look now, O Laeg!" she said, "and mark that sight that I see." "What sight is that of which thou speakest?" said Laeg, and he looked and saw it, and thus it was that the lady, even Fand, addressed him: Laeg! look behind thee!

Close to thine ear Wise, well-ranked women Press on us near; Bright on each bosom Shines the gold clasp; Knives, with green edges Whetted, they grasp: As for the slaughter chariot chiefs race, Comes Forgall's daughter; changed is her face.

"Have no fear," said Cuchulain, "no foe shalt thou meet; Enter thou my strong car, with its sunny bright seat: I will set thee before me, will guard thee from harm Against women, from Ulster's four quarters that swarm: Though the daughter of Forgall the war with thee vows, Though her dear foster-sisters against thee she rouse, No deed of destruction bold Emer will dare, Though she rageth against thee, for I will be there."

Moreover to Emer he said: I avoid thee, O lady, as heroes Avoid to meet friends in a strife; The hard spear thy hand shakes cannot injure, Nor the blade of thy thin gleaming knife; For the wrath pent within thee that rageth Is but weak, nor can cause mine affright: It were hard if the war my might wageth Must be quenched by a weak woman's might!

"Speak! and tell me, Cuchulain," cried Emer, "Why this shame on my head thou wouldst lay?

Before women of Ulster dishonoured I stand, And all women who dwell in the wide Irish land, And all folk who love honour beside: Though I came on thee, secretly creeping, Though oppressed by thy might I remain, And though great is thy pride in the battle, If thou leavest me, naught is thy gain: Why, dear youth, such attempt dost thou make?

"Speak thou, Emer, and say," said Cuchulain, "Should I not with this lady delay?

For this lady is fair, pare and bright, and well skilled, A fit mate for a monarch, in beauty fulfilled, And the billows of ocean can ride: She is lovely in countenance, lofty in race, And with handicraft skilled can fine needlework trace, Hath a mind that with firmness can guide: And in steeds hath she wealth, and much cattle Doth she own; there is naught under sky A dear wife for a spouse should be keeping But that gift with this lady have I: Though the vow that I made thee I break, Thou shalt ne'er find champion Rich, like me, in scars; Ne'er such worth, such brilliance, None who wins my wars."

"In good sooth," answered Emer, "the lady to whom thou dost cling is in no way better than am I myself! Yet fair seems all that's red; seems white what's new alone; and bright what's set o'erhead; and sour are things well known! Men worship what they lack; and what they have seems weak; in truth thou hast all the wisdom of the time! O youth!" she said, "once we dwelled in honour together, and we would so dwell again, if only I could find favour in thy sight!" and her grief weighed heavily upon her. "By my word," said Cuchulain, "thou dost find favour, and thou shalt find it so long as I am in life."

"Desert me, then!" cried Fand. "Nay," said Emer, "it is more fitting that I should be the deserted one." "Not so, indeed," said Fand. "It is I who must go, and danger rusheth upon me from afar." And an eagerness for lamentation seized upon Fand, and her soul was great within her, for it was shame to her to be deserted and straightway to return to her home; moreover the mighty love that she bare to Cuchulain was tumultuous in her, and in this fashion she lamented, and lamenting sang this song: Mighty need compels me, I must go my way; Fame for others waiteth, Would I here could stay!

Sweeter were it resting Guarded by thy power, Than to find the marvels In Aed Abra's bower.

Emer! n.o.ble lady!

Take thy man to thee: Though my arms resign him, Longing lives in me.

Oft in shelters hidden Men to seek me came; None could win my trysting, I myself was flame.

Ah! no maid her longing On a man should set Till a love full equal To her own she get.

Fifty women hither, Emer! thou hast brought Thou wouldst Fand make captive, Hast on murder thought.

Till the day I need them Waits, my home within; Thrice thy host! fair virgins, These my war shall win.

Now upon this it was discerned by Manannan that Fand the daughter of Aed Abra was engaged in unequal warfare with the women of Ulster, and that she was like to be left by Cuchulain. And thereon Manannan came from the east to seek for the lady, and he was perceived by her, nor was there any other conscious of his presence saving Fand alone. And, when she saw Manannan, the lady was seized by great bitterness of mind and by grief, and being thus, she made this song: Lo! the Son of the Sea-Folk from plains draws near Whence Yeogan, the Stream, is poured; 'Tis Manannan, of old he to me was dear, And above the fair world we soared.

Yet to-day, although excellent sounds his cry, No love fills my n.o.ble heart, For the pathways of love may be bent awry, Its knowledge in vain depart.

When I dwelt in the bower of the Yeogan Stream, At the Son of the Ocean's side, Of a life there unending was then our dream, Naught seemed could our love divide.

When the comely Manannan to wed me came, To me, as a spouse, full meet; Not in shame was I sold, in no chessmen's game The price of a foe's defeat.

When the comely Manannan my lord was made, When I was his equal spouse, This armlet of gold that I bear he paid As price for my marriage vows.

Through the heather came bride-maids, in garments brave Of all colours, two score and ten; And beside all the maidens my bounty gave To my husband a fifty men.

Four times fifty our host; for no frenzied strife In our palace was pent that throng, Where a hundred strong men led a gladsome life, One hundred fair dames and strong.

Manannan draws near: over ocean he speeds, From all notice of fools is he free; As a horseman he comes, for no vessel he needs Who rides the maned waves of the sea.

He hath pa.s.sed near us now, though his visage to view Is to all, save to fairies, forbid; Every troop of mankind his keen sight searcheth through, Though small, and in secret though hid.

But for me, this resolve in my spirit shall dwell, Since weak, being woman's, my mind; Since from him whom so dearly I loved, and so well, Only danger and insult I find.

I will go! in mine honour unsullied depart, Fair Cuchulain! I bid thee good-bye; I have gained not the wish that was dear to my heart, High justice compels me to fly.

It is flight, this alone that befitteth my state, Though to some shall this parting be hard: O thou son of Riangabra! the insult was great: Not by Laeg shall my going be barred.

I depart to my spouse; ne'er to strife with a foe Shall Manannan his consort expose; And, that none may complain that in secret I go, Behold him! his form I disclose!

Then that lady rose behind Manannan as he pa.s.sed, and Manannan greeted her: "O lady!" he said, "which wilt thou do? wilt thou depart with me, or abide here until Cuchulain comes to thee?" "By my troth," answered Fand, "either of the two of ye were a fitting spouse to adhere to; and neither of you two is better than the other; yet, Manannan, it is with thee that I go, nor will I wait for Cuchulain, for he hath betrayed me; and there is another matter, moreover, that weigheth with me, O thou n.o.ble prince!" said she, "and that is that thou hast no consort who is of worth equal to thine, but such a one hath Cuchulain already."

And Cuchulain saw the lady as she went from him to Manannan, and he cried out to Laeg: "What meaneth this that I see?" "'Tis no hard matter to answer thee," said Laeg. "Fand goeth away with Manannan the Son of the Sea, since she hath not been pleasing in thy sight!"

Then Cuchulain bounded three times high into the air, and he made three great leaps towards the south, and thus he came to Tara Luachra,[l] and there he abode for a long time, having no meat and no drink, dwelling upon the mountains, and sleeping upon the high-road that runneth through the midst of Luachra.

Then Emer went on to Emain, and there she sought out king Conor, and she told Conor of Cuchulain's state, and Conor sent out his learned men and the people of skill, and the Druids of Ulster, that they might seek for Cuchulain, and might bind him fast, and bring him with them to Emain. And Cuchulain strove to slay the people of skill, but they chanted wizard and fairy songs against him, and they bound fast his feet and his hands until he came a little to his senses. Then he begged for a drink at their hands, and the Druids gave him a drink of forgetfulness, so that afterwards he had no more remembrance of Fand nor of anything else that he had then done; and they also gave a drink of forgetfulness to Emer that she might forget her jealousy, for her state was in no way better than the state of Cuchulain. And Manannan shook his cloak between Cuchulain and Fand, so that they might never meet together again throughout eternity.

[1. p.r.o.nounced Looch-ra: Tara Luachra is on the borders of Limerick and Kerry.]

THE EXILE OF THE SONS' OF USNACH.

INTRODUCTION.THE version given in the following pages of the well-known tale of Deirdre has been translated from the Irish text of the Book of Leinster version as printed by Windisch in Irische Texte, vol. i. Readings from the two parallel texts of the Book of Lecan, and Egerton, 1782, have been used where the Leinster text is deficient or doubtful, but the older MS. has in the main been followed, the chief alterations being indicated in the notes. The only English translation hitherto given of this version is the unreliable one in Atlantis, vol. iii. There is a German translation in Thurneysen's Sagen aus dem alten Irland which may be consulted for literal renderings of most of the verse portions, which, however, are sometimes nearer the original than Thurneysen's renderings.

It was at first intended to place beside this version the much better known version of the tale given by the Glenn Masain ma.n.u.script and its variants; but, as this version is otherwise available in English,[1] it has been thought better to omit most of it: a verse translation of Deirdre's final lament in this version has, however, been added for the purpose of comparing it with the corresponding lament in the Leinster text. These two poems are nearly of the same length, but have no other point in common; the lament in the Leinster version strikes the more personal note, and it has been suggested that it shows internal evidence that it must have been written by a woman. The idea of Deirdre as a seer, which is so prominent in the Glenn Masain version of the tale, does not appear in the older Leinster text; the supernatural Druidic mist, which even in the Glenn Masain version only appears in the late ma.n.u.script which continues the story after the fifteenth-century ma.n.u.script breaks off, does not appear in the Book of Leinster; and the later version introduces several literary artifices that do not appear in the earlier one. That portion of the Glenn Masain version immediately following after Deirdre's lament is given as an instance of one of these, the common artifice of increase of horror at a catastrophe by the introduction of irrelevant matter, the tragedy of Deirdre's death being immediately followed by a cheerful account of the relationships of the chief heroes of the Heroic Period; a still better example of this practice in the old Irish literature is the almost comic relief that is introduced at the most tragic part of the tale of the murder of the son of Ronan.

[1. See Irische Texte, vol. ii., and the Celtic Review, vol. i. 1904-1905.]

THE EXILE OF THE SONS OF USNACH.

BOOK OF LEINSTER VERSION.

IN the house of Feidlimid,[1] the son of Dall, even he who was the narrator of stories to Conor the king, the men of Ulster sat at their ale; and before the men, in order to attend upon them, stood the wife of Feidlimid, and she was great with child. Round about the board went drinking-horns, and portions of food; and the revellers shouted in their drunken mirth. And when the men desired to lay themselves down to sleep, the woman also went to her couch; and, as she pa.s.sed through the midst of the house, the child cried out in her womb, so that its shriek was heard throughout the whole house, and throughout the outer court that lay about it. And upon that shriek, all the men sprang up; and, head closely packed by head, they thronged together in the house, whereupon Sencha, the son of Ailill, rebuked them: "Let none of you stir!" cried he, "and let the woman be brought before us, that we may learn what is the meaning of that cry." Then they brought the woman before them, and thus spoke to her Feidlimid, her spouse: What is that, of all cries far the fiercest, In thy womb raging loudly and long?

Through all ears with that clamour thou piercest; With that scream, from Bides swollen and strong: Of great woe, for that cry, is foreboding my heart; That is torn through with terror, and sore with the smart.

Then the woman turned her, and she approached Cathbad[2]

[1. p.r.o.nounced Feylimid.

2. p.r.o.nounced Cah-ba.]

the Druid, for he was a man of knowledge, and thus she spoke to him: Give thou ear to me, Cathbad, thou fair one of face, Thou great crown of our honour, and royal in race; Let the man so exalted still higher be set, Let the Druid draw knowledge, that Druids can get.

For I want words of wisdom, and none can I fetch; Nor to Felim a torch of sure knowledge can stretch: As no wit of a woman can wot what she bears, I know naught of that cry from within me that tears.

And then said Cathbad: 'Tis a maid who screamed wildly so lately, Fair and curling shall locks round her flow, And her eyes be blue-centred and stately; And her cheeks, like the foxglove, shall glow.

For the tint of her skin, we commend her, In its whiteness, like snow newly shed; And her teeth are all faultless in splendour And her lips, like to coral, are red: A fair woman is she, for whom heroes, that fight In their chariots for Ulster, to death shall be dight.

'Tis a woman that shriek who hath given, Golden-haired, with long tresses, and tall; For whose love many chiefs shall have striven, And great kings for her favours shall call.

To the west she shall hasten, beguiling A great host, that from Ulster shall steal: Red as coral, her lips shall be smiling, As her teeth, white as pearls, they reveal: Aye, that woman is fair, and great queens shall be fain Of her form, that is faultless, unflawed by a stain.

Then Cathbad laid his hand upon the body of the woman; and the little child moved beneath his hand: "Aye, indeed," he said, "it is a woman child who is here: Deirdre shall be her name, and evil woe shall be upon her."

Now some days after that came the girl child into the world; and then thus sang Cathbad: O Deirdre! of ruin great cause thou art; Though famous, and fair, and pale: Ere that Flim's hid daughter from life shall part, All Ulster her deeds shall wail.

Aye, mischief shall come, in the after-time, Thou fair shining maid, for thee; Hear ye this: Usna's sons, the three chiefs sublime, To banishment forced shall be.

While thou art in life, shall a fierce wild deed In Emain, though late, be done: Later yet, it shall mourn it refused to heed The guard of Rg's powerful son.

O lady of worth! It is to thee we owe That Fergus to exile flies; That a son of king Conor we hail in woe, When Fiachna[1] is hurt, and dies.

O lady of worth! It is all thine the guilt!

Gerrc, Illadan's son, is slain; And when Eogan mac Doorha's great life is spilt, Not less shall be found our pain.

Grim deed shalt thou do, and in wrath shalt rave Against glorious Ulster's king: In that spot shall men dig thee thy tiny grave; Of Deirdre they long shall sing.

"Let that maiden be slain!" cried out the young men of Ulster; but "Not so!" said Conor; "she shall in the morning be brought to me, and [1. p.r.o.nounced Feena.]

shall be reared according to my will, and she shall be my wife, and in my companionship shall she dwell."

The men of Ulster were not so hardy as to turn him from his purpose, and thus it was done. The maiden was reared in a house that belonged to Conor, and she grew up to be the fairest maid in all Ireland. She was brought up at a distance from the king's court; so that none of the men of Ulster might see her till the time came when she was to share the royal couch: none of mankind was permitted to enter the house where she was reared, save only her foster-father, and her foster-mother; and in addition to these Levorcham, to whom naught could any refuse, for she was a witch.

Now once it chanced upon a certain day in the time of winter that the foster-father of Deirdre had employed himself in skinning a calf upon the snow, in order to prepare a roast for her, and the blood of the calf lay upon the snow, and she saw a black raven who came down to drink it. And "Levorcham," said Deirdre, "that man only will I love, who hath the three colours that I see here, his hair as black as the raven, his cheeks red like the blood, and his body as white as the snow." "Dignity and good fortune to thee!" said Levorcham; "that man is not far away. Yonder is he in the burg which is nigh; and the name of him is Naisi, the son of Usnach." "I shall never be in good health again," said Deirdre, "until the time come when I may see him."

It befell that Naisi was upon a certain day alone upon the rampart of the burg of Emain, and he sent his warrior-cry with music abroad: well did the musical cry ring out that was raised by the sons of Usnach. Each cow and every beast that heard them, gave of milk two-thirds more than its wont; and each man by whom that cry was heard deemed it to be fully joyous, and a dear pleasure to him. Goodly moreover was the play that these men made with their weapons; if the whole province of Ulster had been a.s.sembled together against them in one place, and they three only had been able to set their backs against one another, the men of Ulster would not have borne away victory from those three: so well were they skilled in parry and defence. And they were swift of foot when they hunted the game, and with them it was the custom to chase the quarry to its death.

Now when this Naisi found himself alone on the plain, Deirdre also soon escaped outside her house to him, and she ran past him, and at first he know not who she might be.

"Fair is the young heifer that springs past me!" he cried.

"Well may the young heifers be great," she said, "in a place where none may find a bull."

"Thou hast, as thy bull," said he, "the bull of the whole province of Ulster, even Conor the king of Ulster."