🧚 Opening, part 15

FRAGMENT V.1

_QUEEN MEAVE’S RETREAT.2

ARGUMENT.3

Queen Meave, having reached the sacred plain of Uta, sacrilegiously encamps thereon.4 A Druid denounces the late war as unrighteous, while Fergus contemns it as ineffectual; and immediately afterwards the Mor Reega manifests herself to the host.5 Next evening, while division of the spoil is being made, Meave is ware of the advance of King Conor; and Ailill transfers the supreme command to Fergus, who prepares for the attack.6 The battle is gloriously won by Fergus.7 That night Meave is warned by signs and omens; and Cuchullain, weak from his wounds, arrives in the Ulidian camp.8 From midnight to near sunset the next day he lies in a trance, during which fair spirits minister to him again his lost strength; and there is shown to him a vision of some mystic greatness reserved for Erin, yet of an order which he cannot understand.9 When the second battle is well nigh lost Cuchullain wakes; and Meave is driven in utter overthrow across the Shannon.10

At last the war had whirled its giddy round; And Meave, well nigh returned, the Shenan[35] near Beside Ath-Luain[36] streaming in its might, Decreed to make division of her spoil Ere yet she crossed it.11 In the West the sun Was sinking; in the East the moon uprose; While camped her host on Uta’s sacred plain Betwixt the double glories.12 Far away Immeasurably glittered the pastures green Illumed with million flowers.13 Nor spade, nor plough Till then that virgin region had profaned; Nor sound, save Shenan’s murmur, stirred therein.14 There stood the Tomb Heroic.15 Beams and showers Alone might pierce that soil sabbatical; Such reverence held the spot.16 Now all was changed; Ill choice; if chance, ill-omened.17 Neighing steeds Dinned the still air; while here at times was heard Whistling of him that fixed his tent, and there Wood-cleaving axe or feaster’s laugh mistimed.18 Higher and higher rose the moon full-orbed, Mirrored in pool and stream.19 At intervals Half lost in bard-song near or shout remote, The slender wailing of some captive maid Rang out and died.20 The royal tent was set High on a grassy platform.21 Meave that night The first time since the death of Finobar Was cheerful of aspéct; and, banquet o’er, Rising her warriors she addressed with vaunt Beseeming not a queen.22 ‘A year,’ she said, ‘Is past since northward to the war we marched:’ Then forth she loosed the sheets and spread the sails And bounded on the waves of proud discourse Recounting all her triumphs; first, her wrong; Lastly, the cause of war, Cuailgné’s Donn Chief captive mid her captives!23 Here her voice Rang loudest, and her eyes their fiercest beamed.24 Rapturous response succeeded; one alone, A Druid old, dissentient.25 Thus he spake, Not rising, to that throng of courtiers crowned: ‘Ill doctrine have ye praised this evening, kings, Unwise, to Erin’s realms unprofitable, Extolling war not based on righteous cause Nor righteous ends ensuing.26 Kings and queen, The end of war is retribution just For deeds unjust; ill cure for greater ill: Wars there must be; and woman-mouthed were he Who railed against them:--aye, but demon-mouthed The man that boasts of war-dishonouring wars Opprobrious, spiteful, predatory, base.27 Sirs, how began this feud?28 It rose from jest!29 And what its close?30 A sacred site profaned, Inviolate till this day!’31 The warriors frowned; Yet all men feared the Druid beard and rod: They stood in silence.32 Fergus rose, and spake: ‘Sirs, I have heard a war this day extolled, A war this day denounced.33 On battle-field Men say that I was born; on battle-fields Have lived from youth to age.34 What thing war is I ought to know.35 Yet, sirs, these wearied eyes Rolled many a day around from East to West Still seeking war, and found it not: they saw Six hundred men successive by the hand Of one man slain, Cuchullain; saw the torch Hurl the red smoke-cloud o’er a thousand homes: They saw a war-dance circle Uladh’s coasts; They saw the ravished flock, and ravished herd, The captive throng lance-goaded on its way, Swine-herd and shepherd, hoary head, and maid Beaming and basking in the healthful glow Of youthful beauty.36 Sirs, they saw more late, But saw from distance, Eman’s walls high-towered: This, this they saw not; warriors, warrior-ruled, Marching against them!37 Mountebanks of war They saw; not warriors!’38 Plainly Fergus spake: Not otherwise than plainly could he speak, A man to Truth predestined; since his birth By courage sealed to Truth.39 The legend saith That down before him on his natal morn All Erin’s fays and sprites from river or rill Their tributes laid.40 But, mightier far than they, A wingèd goddess ran from sea to sea, The island’s breadth, to hail him!41 As she sped, The path before her, prone till then and low, Rising ran out a craggy ridge sublime, The same that for a hundred miles this day Divides the realm.42 That highway lofty and straight Foreshowed that ne’er in tortuous ways or base Should walk that infant.43 Raging, from their seats The kings and chieftains leaped.44 A hundred swords Flashed from their sheaths, and from a hundred mouths One sentence issued--‘Death!’45 By twos and threes A score of stragglers from the exiles’ band Closed up behind him.46 Cormac Conlinglas Beside him stood, sword drawn.47 Again he spake; ‘Queen, till that day of shame was battle none, Nor on that day; nor since!48 But on that day Beside your daughter’s cairn--more royal far Though fortunate less was she--we two conversed: I said; “Without one blow you think to pass Eman, that cast me forth!49 Without one blow To cross your Shenan, reach your Cruachan, There make your terms secure, the spoil retained, The exiles sent to judgment!50 Note you, Queen, Those horsemen three a mile on yonder road?51 My heralds they!52 The hour your flight begins They speed to Eman.”53 ‘You retreated.54 They Rode on to Conor.55 To that chief of foes I wrote; “Advance!56 The queen retreats: make speed!57 She shall not ’scape the battle.58 Know besides That battle of earth’s battles till this hour Shall prove the bloodiest.59 In it, sword to sword We two shall meet; one die.”’60 In measureless scorn Then turned he to the kings, continuing thus; ‘What mean those clamours and those swords half drawn Which draw ye dare not?61 Petty, titular kings!62 The shadow of that royalty once mine Dwarfs you to pygmies by comparison!63 I heard a cry of “Treason!”64 Let them lift Their hands who raised it!65 Kinglings mutinous, Princes seditious, ye the traitors are!66 And on the nod of him whom ye traduce, Your pageant crowns sit trembling.67 Ere three days Uladh is on you!68 I shall stand that hour Your King Elect; not Ailill’s choice, but yours; The Battle-King; for well ye know that I, None else, have skill to range the battle-field, And roll the thunders forth of genuine war.69 Till that hour, silence, kings!’70 Silence they kept, Long silence.71 Then far off, as though from depths By thought untraversable of cloudless skies, Such sound was heard as reaches ships at sea When, launched on airy voyage though still remote, Nation of ocean-crossing birds begins To obscure the serene heaven.72 That sound drew near: From every tent the revellers rushed.73 Then lo!74 That portent seen alone in fateful times, The dread Mor Reega!75 Terrible as Fate The goddess of the battles high o’er head Sailed on full-panoplied, in hue as when On Alpine snows, their sunset glories gone, Night’s winding-sheet descends.76 Upon her casque And spear beyond it pointing glared the moon, And on a face like hers that froze of old The gazers into stone.77 As on she sailed On that huge army coldness fell of death: Yea, some there died.78 Next morning, from that spot Northward to Eman lay a branded track: Straight as a lance still stretched it, league on league; A bar of winter black through harvest fields, A bridge of ice spanning the rippling waves; A pledge that men had dreamed not.79 In those days Foreboding soon, like sorrow, passed away: Ailill next morning counselled; ‘Ere the night Cross we the Shenan.80 If the Red Branch comes Fight we on Ai’s plain!’81 But Meave replied ‘Not so; I fly not!82 One day here we rest: Our kings await their spoil.’83 From morn to eve That spoil’s partition lasted; first, huge herds; Flocks snowy-white through water-weeds and grass Followed, hound-driven.84 War-horses few were there, But many from the plough: with these, in crowds Poor hinds, and swine-herds, maidens skilled in works That knew to spin the flax or mix the dye Or card the wool.85 Next followed wild-eyed boys Bound each to each.86 No tear they shed, but scowled Defiance on their lords and war-songs sang Of Uladh and her vengeance.87 King and chief Scanned each his prize with careless-seeming eye; Yet oft their followers strove, while onward paced The royal arbiters with wands high held, Ruling the wrangling crew.88 Upon a mound Meantime the royal throne was set, a throng Of warriors round it.89 Many a mirthful chance Provoked their laughter: loudest laughed the queen; But when she spake she waited not reply.90 Without a bound to east and west and south The prospect spread.91 Her eye was on the north:-- Not distant stood two hills: she asked their names: Her great eyes darkened when the answer came Of Gairig and Ilgairig. ’92 Twixt these twain, Shone out, distincter as the sun declined, Long northern ranges.93 Fergus marked her eye That moved not from them, smiled, and made demand, ‘What find’st thou in our mountain ridges, Queen, That merits gaze so fixed?’94 Then she; ‘I note Girdling their slopes a mist feathery and soft, As though of snow-flakes wov’n: above it peaks Shoot up, like isles cloud-hid.95 Within that mist I see strange lights that cross like shooting stars; Cross and re-cross, quick-bickering.’96 With a smile That deepened, Fergus questioned once again: ‘Make large thine eyes and tell me what thou seest!’97 Then Meave; ‘Through all that mist is movement strange, The agitation of some wondrous life, And t’wards us on it rolleth.’98 Fergus next; ‘Thine eyes see well!99 If others saw like thee Their tongues would clang less loudly.100 Hear’st thou nought?’101 The queen made answer; ‘Many a sea I hear That breaks on many a shore.’102 Then Fergus cried ‘Thou seest my Uladh coming, and the way And fashion of the advent of her war!103 For know, great Queen, even now the Red Branch Knights Car-borne descend yon slopes!104 That mist thou saw’st What is it but the tempest of their march, The dust flung upwards and the sweat exhaled And visible breath of warrior and of horse That breathes the northwind and the sunny glare?105 What else the snow-flakes which thou saw’st but foam Dashed from the horses’ bits?106 Thy bickering stars, What else but flaming cars and fiery helms This way and that way passing?107 What thy peaks Crowning that mist, but Uladh’s hills remote That send her children to avenge her wrong?108 And what that thunder sound of many seas But music of their coming?109 Well for thee If o’er them sail not, veiled from mortal eyes, That dread Mor Reega!’110 Reddened as he spake Meave’s cheek late pale; yet careless she replied; ‘I see her not, therefore believe her not, And breathe securely since that gleam far off Is human, not demoniac or divine; For never feared I yet the arm of man: Cuchullain dead, I hold at nought the rest.’111 Thus Meave: but all the kings and chiefs arose Clamouring to her and Ailill; ‘Lo, ’tis come!112 All Uladh, and a battle such as ne’er Shook the foundations of this kingly isle!113 Now therefore bid him rule thy host, the man That knows to rule!’ ’114 Twixt passions twain at war Meave silent stood.115 Ailill to Fergus turned And spake; ‘Be thou henceforth our Battle-King:’ Thus spake he; then, releasing from his belt The sword usurped of Fergus, added thus; ‘Receive once more thy sword! in mirth erewhile I made it mine: the virtue in that blade Hath kept me till this hour.’116 Fergus replied; ‘I take mine own: but one month past, this sword Had cut the cancer out of Uladh’s breast, And made thy throne a praise on earth for aye!117 I take mine own, on thee a sword bestowing That best becomes thee.118 Waiting long this hour For thee I kept it.’119 Proudly Ailill clasped Its glittering hilt: Fergus drew back the sheath; And lo, a wooden sword, for babes a toy!120 The concourse laughed; the loudest Meave: though wroth Ailill a little whiffling laugh essayed With sidelong face.121 Then Fergus in the soil Planting his sword upright before it knelt, And spake; ‘O thou my sovereignty, my sword, In many a battle, yet in none unjust, So many a year my glory and my mate!122 Mine art thou, mine once more!123 In all this host Who shall henceforth reproach me?’124 To his task The strong one sped, and change was over all: Again the voice of discipline was heard: None drank in booths; none rushed abroad; with sloth Fierceness had vanished.125 Followers of the camp Alone were left in charge of flocks and herds: The clansmen to their duties were restored, The clans in order ranged.126 He delved a trench Barring from Uta’s plain the advancing foe, And bridges o’er it flung, that so his host Permission given, and not till then, might strike Forth pouring torrent-like at Uladh’s heart: Pits too he dug bristling with stakes sod-hid.127 He gave command like one that, born to power, With courteous might scarce conscious puts it forth: He spake the word: all heard him: all obeyed Magnanimous to feel when majesty Authentic stood before them.128 Duty done Engendered strenuous joy, and strength, and hope: Thus through the mass the spirit of one man Triumphed, and ruling, raised it: on each face His corporal semblance lived--light hearted might, Deliberate resolve.129 The moonlight hours Shone brightly on their labours.130 Six had sped Ere Fergus sought the royal tent where sat Revellers right ill at ease.131 As in he passed, The concourse, Meave herself and Ailill, rose, And did him regal honours.132 Of his toils Nought spake he; but their hearts who saw him swelled And many marvelled why they late were sad: Again the laugh; again the tale; the song-- Then came a change.133 A gradual sound was heard, Yet what and whence they knew not.134 It increased; It swelled ere long, voluminous; grating next; Then dreadful like the splitting of a world Whose strong foundations crumble.135 Forth they passed Through hurrying clouds the moon rushed madly on, Now dim, now fiercely glaring.136 From the north In terror sped the forest beasts and dashed Wild through the camp while panic fell on all.137 The sole man unastonished, Fergus spake: ‘Sirs, late ye learn our warfare!138 As the spring, When the first spray catches the amorous red, Her song-bird sends, herald and harbinger, So Uladh sends before her onward steps Her shrill-voiced vanguard: men of might are they, Hewers of war-ways for her battle cars Advancing through the forests.139 First ye heard Their axes only; last, the falling trees:-- What, Sirs, ye look like men ill-pleased!140 Well, well!141 Not all delight in music.142 Sirs, good-night!143 When breaks the dawn be stirring.’144 In the camp Few slept that night.145 Vanished the moon in cloud: Then shone the watch-fires on the northern hills Like stars.146 Next morn the Uladh host down swarmed Betwixt those neighbouring hills and round their base Far spread as flood that, widening on its way, Changes the heights to islands.147 Countless wrongs And shame at all that long inglorious trance, Roused wrath to madness; from them far they flung Encumbering arms, and, bare from scalp to waist, Worked on with brandished battle-axe.148 Three hours That trench withstood them.149 Kelkar ruled their left, Their right great Conal Carnach, while the king Marshalled their centre.150 There the strongest bridge, Tower-guarded, longest held their host at bay; Longer had held it, save that from his place Fergus, the hour foreseen arrived, gave word ‘Fling wide the gates!’151 In rushed they; but to meet A foe unwasted yet.152 The Red Branch Knights Surpassed their old renown.153 In fresher strength The host confederate met them.154 Meave herself With downward mace three champions slew that day, Him last, that felon son of faithful sire, Buini, the Ruthless Red, who, breaking pledge, Betrayed the sons of Usnach for a bribe: His father’s prophecy the Accursed fulfilled Slain by a woman’s hand.155 Fergus, at last Forth launched upon his native element, Raced o’er the battle billows like a bark When tempests stretch its canvass.156 Chief on chief Went down before that sword that still, men sware, With sweep that widened like a rainbow’s arch Ran from his hand and harvests reaped of death.157 O’er-spent, not scared, that Northern host gave way Sudden from east to west.158 It broke and fled.159 Alone unvanquished Conor Conchobar Maintained his place.160 He rallied twice and thrice The fugitives; thrice turned them on the foe; Then stabbed them flying.161 Last upon the bridge He stood and sole.162 There met him face to face The sole of foes his equal.163 Dreadful gaze Long fixed they, each on other; Fergus spake: ‘Is this indeed that king who filched that realm Not his, then shamed it by a bloodier fraud; Who brake his pledge; who murdered Usnach’s sons; Who drave from Uladh, Uladh’s rightful king;-- And comes he at my hand to meet his doom?164 Just Gods, I thank you!’165 With a haughtier mien, Yet kingly less, King Conchobar replied: ‘Thou know’st me; and ’tis well!166 That king am I Who, less than thou by lineage, but in mind Loftier, attained that crown thou could’st not keep; That king, who, breaking through a jesting pact As eagles through a mist, by doom deserved Requited rebels proved.167 That king am I Who, when with traitors thou true pact hadst made, Forth hurled thee naked to the wild wolf’s lair: That was the worst I wished thee: worse by far If aught of kingly once was thine thou found’st-- Beneath a hostile roof the beggar’s dole Gorged on a golden platter, and the hand Protectress, of a woman!’168 Long that fight Watched by two hosts in speechless stupor held, Direful and long!169 Equal in might those twain, Equal in craft of war.170 The kinglier soul Conferred alone the victory.171 Fergus raised The unvanquishable sword so late restored: It fell in thunder: with it fell the king, Fell to his knees, a bleeding mass, and blind: Again that sword was raised: a moment more Had ended all: then leaped to Fergus’ feet, His knees enclasping, Cormac Conlinglas King Conor’s son.172 He spake these words alone: ‘My father!--Spare him!’173 Fergus ne’er had scorned A look like his that hour.174 He turned: he spake: ‘Take hence that reptile:--holy is this plain!175 A true king here was buried!’176 Conor’s kernes Lifted him to his war-car.177 Slowly it moved; For Death was in the wheels thereof; and Death Stood at its door.178 That night in Uladh’s camp Was silence strange and dread.179 By dying men Sat men sore wounded.180 Scornful of their foe And burning for revenge, the North had spurned Science of war, their boast, and left, death-strewn, Full half their host.181 Between their tents and Meave’s All that long night the buriers of the dead Groped their sad way with red, earth-grazing torch, Turning the white face up in search of friend, Brother, or son.182 But in the tent of Meave Triumph ruled all: a hundred spake at once Each man his deeds recounting.183 Far apart Sat Fergus; on his brow alone was shade: The deed was needful; but his country’s blood Gladdened not him.184 Of those that marked him, some Had reverence for his sadness: lesser souls That long had hated, loathed the man that hour.185 Sudden the din surceased.186 Far other sound Quelled it: from Uladh’s sorrowing camp it swelled, A jubilant cry soaring from earth to heaven!187 Then flashed the eyes of Fergus, and he cried; ‘Cuchullain lives!188 That sound is Uladh’s shout What time the host he enters!’189 With a brow Gloomy as night the queen replied; ‘’Tis false!190 We know that in the forest, months gone by Cuchullain perished!’191 Silent long they stood; Listening.192 At last rang out far different note As piteous as the first was full of joy, A funeral _keen_ world-wide.193 Then cried the queen, ‘Cuchullain lived!194 Cuchullain lives no more!195 Wounded and weak he came to aid his own: Too great such effort for a wasted frame: That was Cuchullain’s death-dirge!’196 Fierce she stood: Glorying she spake, and with attendance passed Forth from the hall of banquet to her tent: But as she passed she heard at either side She and her ladies with her, trembling heard The rushing of a panic-stricken host Invisible, though now the dawn was grey, A host t’ward Shenan flying!197 High o’er head A dulcet strain, unutterably sad, When ceased that phantom rush of fugitive feet, Drifted far northward.198 Then the queen was ware These were her country’s gods that left her host.199 The legend adds that in her tent that hour Faythleen, the witch, she saw, who sat and wove A mystic web and sang a mystic song, Seen but by her:--and, later, o’er her bed Men say that Orloff bent, her buried son, And spake; ‘This day the battle shall be fought Of Gairig and Ilgairig.’200 He meanwhile, The lord of all the battles, where was he, Cuchullain?201 Many a weary day and week Within his loved Murthemné’s woods he lay, Sore-wounded man nigh death.202 Those shepherd youths Tended him still, or sang beside his bed; And ofttimes o’er his face the tears of Leagh In passionate gust descended.203 But the might Unholy of the clan of Cailitin That nightly hung above him like a cloud Began to wither when that mist accursed Drifted from Uladh’s borders.204 On the breast Pellucid, likewise, of Murthemné’s streams Benignant spirits scattered flowers and herbs With healing virtue dowered.205 He, morn and eve In those clear currents laid, renewed his youth; And, pure as infant’s, came again that flesh Where festered late his wounds.206 At last, revived, He passed, car-borne to Eman, north.207 The fields Devastated, and wail from foodless glens Filled him as on he sped with wrathful strength: Next, tidings came of Conor’s southward march: Exultingly he followed.208 On that night Of overthrow he reached the royal camp: Far off they kenned his car, and raised that shout Heard never save for him.209 When near he drew Way-worn, and wearied, and around him gazed, And saw that sight, and thought, ‘too late; too late!’210 His cheek upon the shoulder sank of Leagh, And all men deemed him dead.211 Then rose that wail To Meave auspicious sound.212 There are who deem Cuchullain’s tent that night was near the Well Where, purer far, more late the royal maids Fedelm and Ethna met that saint who gave To God the isle of Fate.213 Blessing then too That Well diffused, they say; for from its brink A runnel o’er the pebbles ran with sound So sweetly tuned that on the warrior sank Deep seal of peace divine.214 The war-shouts near To him thus harboured seemed but ocean’s sighs Round islands ever calm.215 Then came, on winds Fresher than earth’s, divinities more high He thought than those that late from elfin meres Amid Murthemné’s woods had dewed his face; And loftier songs were sung; and balmier flowers In holier fountains bathed were softlier pressed On breast and brow; while shone before his eyes Visions more fair than lordliest battle-field, Though what they meant he knew not nor divined-- High-towerèd temples cruciform that rose Far-seen o’er wood and street; and from their gates Vestal procession issuing white, that wound Through precincts low where only dwelt the poor, The halt, the lame, the blind; and song he heard With spiritual pathos changing sense to soul, ‘The end of all is peace.’216 In silence slid The constellations down the western sky; And endless seemed that night.217 At break of day Came Conal Carnach and the Red Branch Knights To see the sick man’s face.218 Thereon the morn Laughed, dewy-bright: and lo! where long had lain Pallor of death, now burned a healthful red: Not less they dared not touch him; since with him _Geisa_ it was if any broke his rest.219 They left him, and the battle-storm began.220 Warned by defeat Uladh had raised ere morn, Fronting her camp, three bulwarks: at the first And distant most, three hours the conflict raged.221 It fell at last.222 When rose the conquerors’ shout Leagh to Cuchullain crept, and touched him not, Yet knelt and whispered, ‘Heard you not that sound?’223 And thus Cuchullain answered still in trance; ‘I heard the runnels in Murthemné’s woods Snow-swoll’n in spring.’224 Then Leagh stood up and mused ‘The hue of health is on his face, and yet Because he will not wake the land is shamed.’225 Next round the second bulwark raged the war Hour after hour: heroic deeds were done: Heroic deaths were died: at last it fell: Again and nearer rose the conquerors’ shout: Again with bolder foot and forehead flushed Leagh to Cuchullain moved and touched him not But, bending, murmured, ‘Heard you not that sound?’226 And he, without awaking, answered thus; ‘I heard the birds in Eimer’s pleasaunce sing To greet our marriage morn.’227 Then Leagh went forth Groaning, and smote his hands, and wept aloud ‘Because he will not wake the host must die!’228 Around the loftiest bulwark and the last Once more for hours the battle raged: it fell!229 And louder thrice that shout went up.230 The gaze Of Leagh was on him fixed: he heard it not: Slowly it died; and as it died the wail Came feebly forth from Uladh’s host.231 A change Flashed o’er Cuchullain’s face: like fire it shone: Into his tent he sprang midway!232 Then lo!233 A marvel! for the wounded man that slept All day with bandages enswathed, up-towered Full-armed for fight a champion spear in hand, Work of some god!234 Swift from his tent he strode:-- Without the hand of man there stood his car And those immortal steeds pawing the air With wonted battle-cry!235 A moment more And forward to Ilgairig’s slope they dashed: ‘Let but the armies see him,’ inly mused Leagh, ‘and the work is done!’236 Onward they sped; But not unnoted by that demon brood That hate the works of justice.237 From below Writhing in torment of their rage they heaved The grassy surface upward into waves Now swelling, now descending.238 Strong albeit The immortal steeds staggered.239 Cuchullain cried, ‘What! children of the tempest-wakened lakes Saw ye till now no billows?240 Yours they are!241 Exult ye in your native element, And waft your lord to vengeance!’242 They obeyed: They reached Ilgairig’s summit.243 On he sped Mantled with sunset.244 Terrible he shone!245 Both armies saw him--knew him!246 Onward yet; While from his golden arms and golden car Lightnings went forth incessant.247 In his van Victory and Fear their pinions spread.248 He reached Ilgairig’s southern verge: he reined his steeds: High in his car he stood; with level hand Screening his eyes he scanned that battle-field, His future course decreeing.249 On and on Adown that slope he flashed and o’er that plain Like zigzag sunshaft o’er the autumnal world; And ever where he came the host of Meave Gave way before him.250 On and ever on!251 And now the nearest of those bulwarks three He reached, and o’er its ruins swept, back driving The conquerors late now conquered.252 On and on!253 And ever through that foe thick-packed he clave A lane of doom and death.254 Ere long was reached The second rampart.255 There it was he slew The great ones of Clan Libna, and the clans Guairé and Murdoc.256 Fiery faces thronged The air around him, and the voice of Gods Made smooth his way triumphant.257 On and on-- Nor ceased he ever hurling left and right Destruction from his sling; nor slackened sleet Of javelins winged with fate.258 That brazen urn With death-stones heaped exhausted not its store, Replenished ever as by hand unseen Work of some God!259 That brazen cirque, not less Where stood his javelins ranged was never void; Work of some God!260 The on-rolling wheels devoured Those serried ranks; the war-steeds trampled down: Reached was that rampart furthest of the three; There in her war-car sat the queen; in front The Maineys seven were ranged: his sword forth flashed: Four perished of the seven.261 Then faced the queen Westward, and fled amazed.262 He marked her flight: Eastward he turned.263 As on he carved his course Not now a lane alone of doom and death But ever widening valleys ruin-strewn Bore witness of his transit, for behind Closed ever up Cuchullain’s household clans Murthemné’s, and Cuailgné’s.264 Perished there The Ossorians, and the Olnemacian chiefs, And many a champion famed from Slaney’s bank To Lee and Laune, from Caiseal’s crested rock[37] To Beara’s strand.265 Who died not, fled and left Yet ampler ’twixt the bristling flanks of war That vacant space; and as the dolphin oft Raptured by gladness of clear summer seas While flames the noon on purple billows, swims All round and round some ship full-sailed, so he Circled on foot at times that car wind-swift Mocking its slowness; then with airy bound Once more within it beamed.266 His boyhood’s mirth Returned upon him.267 On the chariot’s floor He marked those brazen balls, the sport that time Of men way-faring, snatched them up, tossed high While yet careering round the blood-stained field, Then caught them as they fell:--a glittering ring They girt that glittering head.268 Not less his eye Watchful pursued the flying foe; his hand Brought down to earth the fleetest.269 From the crests Of those twinned hills down rushed the total strength At last of Uladh.270 Universal flight Shook the vast field.271 The bravest men and best Caught by its current on were dragged like trees The sport of winter flood.272 Chieftain and king Sought, each, his home.273 Meave, with a remnant small Reached Shenan’s bridgeless tide; and there had fallen Stretching to towered Ath-Luain helpless hands, Save that Cuchullain, ’mid the narrower way Standing with arms extended, terrible, Abashed that host pursuing; ‘Stand ye back!274 One day I shared her feast: she shall not die!’275 He spake, and set by Shenan’s wave his shield.276 Next morn the Ulidians where that shield had stood In silence stern planted three pillar-stones, White daughters of the tempest-beaten hills, In Ogham graved, ‘Vanquished by Uladh’s sons Here fled the invader, Meave.’277 Fergus alone The Exile-King, and they, the Exile Band, Fled not that day.278 Though few and bleeding fast Fearless upon a cloudy crag they stood, Phalanx prepared to die, prepared not less Dearly to sell their lives, while past them streamed That panic-stricken throng.279 The host pursuing Looked up, yet swerved not from their course.280 Once more Returning from the vengeance they looked up; Then passed in silence by.281 That eve, men say, While slowly paced Cuchullain t’ward the camp, Lamenting strains of Goddesses were heard, For whatsoe’er was female loved the man, If earthly female, with a human love, If heavenly, with a love compassionate, Lamenting strains that, ere his youth had passed, That starry head must lie by Fate’s decree Amid the dust of death.282 Cuchullain turned; Softly he answered; ‘Goddesses benign!283 Why weep ye?284 I was Uladh’s Mastiff-Hound: The mastiff lives not long.285 What better lot For him than this;--the bandits chased, to die Beside his master’s gate?’286