🧚 Opening, part 5

O joy his course through woodland gulfs to follow, Deirdré and they, to Etive’s salt sea lake!1 To hear from shadowy cliff and cavern hollow Through glistening air the clarion’s echo break, And mark, o’er wide green plain, and purple mere, The mountain-wall its glooming bastion rear2

More high when seen through mist: to watch it quivering; From rock to cloud to track the eagle’s flight; And then, close by, on spray shining and shivering, To mark the tender-footed bird alight, Or flower down-bending ’neath the silenced bee, Or gleam from rill remote on-winding noiselessly!3

And O, to hear in woods the loud hounds baying, Or plunge of floods adown some hoarse ravine!4 Or watch, from far, the waves o’er sea-ledge swaying; Thence refluent dragged in trails of grassy green; Or, farther yet, that surge forever hoary Seething round lone tormented promontory!5

Three tents they planted where the forest’s skirt Sheltered the lowland from the increasing heat; In one, with hand assiduous and expert, Deirdré prepared that food by toil made sweet; In one they held their banquet; and in one Sang their glad songs till half the night was done.6

And many a night on Etive’s flowery margin She moved, while moonbeams glazed the purple wave, Happiest of wives; light-footed as a virgin; Or at the entrance of some ivied cave Sang note prolonged that ended oft in laughter-- Sweet were the days, pledging some sweet hereafter!7

One night, when Naisi to his rest had passed, Deirdré, long lingering at the bridal door, Her eyes on Ainli and on Ardan cast, Great eyes with tears unused all misted o’er, And took their hands, and spake, in low, soft tone, ‘To you my Naisi’s weal is as your own!8

‘But you, like Naisi, must have, each, your bride, Unhumbled maids not willing to be wed, To walk in glorying gladness at your side: Find such, and I round each a silver thread Will twine; and bring the creatures to you bound: Discrowned the proud must be; and Love be crowned!’9

The heroic song hath sorrows, but not sighs; The heroic legend tender is, yet hard; With grief alike, and joy, can sympathise, Yet keeps the heroic heart from weakness barred.10 Love’s ‘stormy southwind’ three glad years had blown: Then Fate, that rules the nations, claimed her own.11

Thus it befell; once more at Conor’s call The Red-Branch Knights partook their monarch’s feast, Ranged ’neath their standards round Emania’s hall; And when at last the hunger rage had ceased, And many an echo of loud songs had died, King Conor rose, thus speaking in his pride;12

‘What say ye, Lords?13 Deem ye that kinglier cheer, Or palace more majestic under sun, Gladdens mankind than those that greet us here?’14 They answered, ‘Feast or house like thine is none!’15 Through the great hall the acclaim unmeasured brake: It sank; and once again King Conor spake;16

‘How say ye, Lords, for leave ye have to speak; That which ye think, reveal: all doubts repel; Find ye in Uladh aught decayed or weak, Amiss, or lacking?17 Or are all things well?’18 And they made answer; ‘All things right we find, Nor aught deficient.19 King, we speak our mind!’20

Yet once again, King Conor rose and said, ‘My mind is other-minded, Lords, than yours; For I, though ne’er by random counsel swayed, Far less by murmurs low of kernes and boors, Find this amiss--that Usnach’s sons this day For one bad woman’s sake are far away;21

‘A loss to Uladh, and to me the most, Lacking our bravest.’22 Then the vast acclaim Burst louder thrice from that exulting host; And thus they cried; ‘We feared the royal blame, And therefore hid our counsel; but that morn Those Three return, old Uladh stands re-born.’23

Again the plot-deviser rose and spake: ‘Men of great stomachs, Lords, we count those Three: “Exiles,” they sware, “we go: but ne’er come back Till sureties strong are ours, and guarantee By Conor sent, firm pledge of endless troth:” Thus Naisi sware: and sacred is an oath.24

‘Likewise thus vowed he, ne’er to tread again Green Erin’s soil, his glory and his joy, Till Conal Carnach fetched him o’er the main, Or else Cuchullain, or the son of Roy, Fergus, my dearest.25 I these three will test, And learn by proof which loves King Conor best.’26

Then Conor unto Conal signed; and these Stood speaking in a casement far apart: ‘Conal, if I should send thee o’er the seas, And lo! on Uladh’s soil, through Naisi’s heart The Fates sent darkness, what would happen then?’27 And Conal answered; ‘Deaths of many men!28

‘King! if he fell, of Uladh’s sons one half For Naisi’s sake should lie ere three days dead, And for my surety broken.’29 With a laugh King Conor fillip’d Conal’s cheek, and said, ‘Fool! that canst never understand a jest!30 Go hence!31 It is not thou that lov’st me best!’32

Next, to Cuchullain Conor signed; then spake; ‘Cuchullain! if I sent thee o’er the sea, With Usnach’s exiled sons a pact to make, And then, despite thy surety given, those Three Vanished, late-landed; what would happen then?’33 Cuchullain answered; ‘Deaths of many men!34

‘For, not alone who wrought that deed accursed, Slaying those Three, should perish by this hand, But they the impious deed who counselled, first; And, next the man who issued that command!’35 Then Conor frowned:--‘What night-mare loads thy breast?36 Hence, for thou know’st me not; nor lov’st me best!’37

To Fergus last the royal plotter signed, And made, yet softlier tuned, the self-same quest; But he the questioner’s meaning nought divined, A Prince whose heart, uncovered as his crest, Contemned disguise; suspecting treachery none Thus answered Fergus, Roy’s once sceptred son:38

‘King, thou, and I, and Usnach’s sons must die-- What matters when, if spotless our good name?39 The hand that strikes in daylight I defy; If traitor’s knife attempts them, for that shame All Uladh’s race shall perish, save alone The stained, yet guiltless king on Uladh’s throne!’40

Then Conor caught his hand: ‘Thou, sole of all Lov’st me!41 The rest but fear:--they never loved!42 Cautious are they: thou swift at honour’s call!43 Now therefore be thy love and fealty proved: To Alba speed: bring home that exiled Three, Thyself their surety, pledge, and guarantee.44

‘But with them plight this covenant beside, That instant when they tread my kingdom’s strand To me they speed; with no man else abide; Favour or feast accept at no man’s hand: My bread must be the first those exiles break; All griefs thenceforth forgotten for its sake.45

‘I charge thee too from Alba’s coast returned To land at Barach’s castle in the north;-- There shall thy monarch’s further will be learned:’ Then Fergus pledged his word, and issued forth: But Conor beckoned Barach from the feast; Then long time stood a-gazing north and east.46

Low-toned he spake; ‘Barach! a keep thou hast There where the grey cliffs break the northern brine: When Fergus comes from Alba, hold him fast: Heap high thy banquet; make that proud one thine!47 If from thy board he turns he stands forsworn, By Geisa bound[14] no good man’s feast to scorn.48

‘But thou, the sons of Usnach send to me: What cause I have to trust that race thou knowest: Be sure thy feast hold out two days or three: My love thenceforth thou hast where’er thou goest.’49 The courtier smiled, and bowed, ‘I hear, and heed:’ And Conor thus; ‘True friend is friend at need!’50

Next morning Fergus o’er the waters sped At earliest dawn; with him his sons alone, Illan the Fair; Buini the Ruthless Red, His shield-bearer, the third.51 By swift winds blown They rushed above the waves a day and night; At dawn Loch Etive’s mountains loomed in sight.52