🧚 Opening, part 3

He spake: ‘She shall not die: this babe I take, My ward, until her destinies be known: An isle tower-girt is mine in yonder lake: There shall she live; and there shall live alone: By none that fatal beauty shall be seen: Full-grown the maid perchance may be my queen.’1

Wondering they heard, but no man made reply, For Conor’s will was lord to all and each, A man of counsel deep, and purpose high, In action sudden, sparing of his speech: Early he won the people to his will: Ere long they feared him: but they loved him still.2

While yet a child, the stepson of that king Who reigned in Uladh, Fergus son of Roy, Conor had shared his home.3 That prince would bring Oft to his judgment court Queen Nessa’s boy Whose forward wit unravelled every suit, Delighting in the wrangling clan’s dispute.4

Fergus was loftier-minded: ever more He loathed the sordid plea, the varnished wrong, And inly scorned the Ollamb’s learnèd lore: More dear to him the chase, the feast, the song: Wearied one day, he cried with laughing face, ‘Conor! speak thou the judgment in my place!’5

The boy made answer none; but instant bowed, And judgment gave so full, so just, so clear, A shout rang upward from the astonished crowd, ‘Worthy of kingship thou!’6 His crowned compeer, Fergus arose; incensed he made reply; ‘Throne him your king, if worthier he than I!’7

Conor since then had ruled the Ulidian race, And ever waxed in subtlety and power, Though better loved was Fergus’ honest face, And princely port, forth issuing from his tower At times with horse and hound to chase the boar, Crowning at times the topmost ridge of war.8

Conor was loved and feared: one clan alone Nor feared, nor loved him, Usnach’s: and the king In Usnach’s house a rival to his throne Or noting, or belike imagining, Still watched that house to crush it, had he dared; But Uladh loved it, and her monarch spared.9

Meantime to that green island in the lake The years came softly: softly went they by As like as snowy flake to snowy flake, As like as smile to smile, as sigh to sigh; And as some flower that feeds on beams and dew Its inmate rose in beauty ever new,10

Deirdré.11 With her abode an ancient dame, The tale-recounter of the royal court In years departed; Levarcam her name: None other to that island made resort Save now and then treading the downward rocks Some shepherd with the firstling of his flocks.12

Beauteous as heaven that gladsome captive was; With every month more fair, more gladsome grew; Her pastime, counting jewels in the grass, Emerald and amethyst, and sapphire blue, Or chasing--never part had she in sloth-- From bloom to bloom the evening-gilded moth.13

Impassioned friendships hers with every kind: To her the Robin came; to her the Hare; And still with insight flashed from heart to mind, She guessed their lives in tree or bosky lair, Sharing their vernal joys, and, when the snows Besieged their haunts, condoling with their woes.14

Inquisitive the creature was, and brave: From rock to rock alone she roamed; untaught She knew to climb the tree and swim the wave; Soaring and swift, for knowledge still she sought, Nor sought in vain, far wiser than she wist; Infantine minstrel, and mythologist.15

For when she heard the wintry tempests raving, Fables she told of immemorial feuds, And warring Gods that still, for vengeance craving, Devastated some rival’s peaceful woods; And when the morning shone, serene and mild, She laughed and said, ‘These Gods are reconciled!’16

Betwixt that island and the forest green A causeway stretched.17 Scorning King Conor’s law, O’er it in summer maidens tripped unseen, And told her tales of all they heard and saw, And flowers in May, and fruits in summer brought her, Or with her danced beside the moonlit water.18

Two men alone she saw; at times the king: His grizzled beard and searching eye she fled, And wept to think that in some far-off spring She must be his.19 That thought alone with dread Touched her keen instinct.20 In that face august Something unblest she saw, and ill to trust.21

Yet oft he came, watching that flower of beauty That still from crude, reluctant bud emerged; And citing still past vow, and future duty Impledged thereby; and still with presents urged; And ever reaped for such more scoffs than gain-- Officious is his zeal whose hope is vain!22

The other visitor she better loved, A Druid, silver-headed: to her isle Daily he came, a teacher well-approved; And much he taught her, with his grave calm smile Advancing still into his pupil’s heart: To elicit thence, he knew, was to impart.23

He taught her all a monarch’s bride had need In those old days to learn.24 Devout and grave, He taught her all the Ogham signs to read,[10] Inscribed on mossy stone or mystic stave; And how to trace green Erin’s Kings, each one To Heber or Heremon, Ir, or Donn.25

One morn as on their glories he descanted, ‘Where are they now?’ his wondering listener said; Then silent stood, like shape to stone enchanted: But when he answered sadly, ‘They are dead,’ She bounded t’ward the on-wavering butterfly, And cried, ‘At least he lives; and so do I!’26

Once too she caught that Druid by the sleeve, And spake; ‘Great Master, this I ask of thee!27 Who was it made the sun, the morn and eve, The stars, the flying clouds, the boundless sea?’28 Her great wide eyes, clasped hands, and lips compressed, Better than words enforced the unending quest.29

The Druid answered, dubious, still refining With stress and strain of profluent words that left The problem’s jet-black surface smooth and shining But ne’er the mystery’s heart of marble cleft, And ended; ‘God is God:--but ah, the woe!30 That which God is, not even the Druids know!’31

‘Then God must be a God who hides Himself In sport, or else for cause we know not of!32 And doubtless,’ thus ran on the careless elf, ‘Who hides in sport will show His face in love; Much seeking will not find Him.33 He will come Then when He wills; and take His children home.34

‘For I remember once in yonder wood My nurse, to mock me, hid her in an oak, Whilst idly I a dragon-fly pursued: I missed her soon: I wept: then forth she broke!35 Thus likewise God, hearing His creatures moan, Will flash on them, and cry, “Mine own, mine own!”36

‘That day the wise will serve Him; but the fool Will sport with Ogham stave, or dragon-fly That lights his spark--lo there--on dusky pool!37 Of those that sport at once, and serve am I!38 Therefore, come quickly, God!39 And thou, good stave, Fly hence!’40 And forth she flung it on the wave!41

But when she found within the Master’s face, Not wrath--for that she looked--but awe-struck woe, A change there passed, too swift for eye to trace, Athwart her rain-dark eyes, and front of snow; And straight the child, by love’s remorse possessed, Kissed with her whole bright face that Druid’s breast.42

The years passed by; and, onward as they sped, That child from beauty still to beauty grew; In her, full many a fair one came and fled Like sunny gleams that each the last pursue; And yet that glad succession brought no change; Each child in turn was wilful, sweet, and strange.43

Older, beyond her island bounds she strayed Despite the king; for, ever since her birth, Of nought that tender heart had been afraid: Banshee, or ghost, she heard of, now with mirth, And now with awe, but never with affright; And gladly would have faced them if she might.44