🧚 Opening, part 7

‘And, since the arms he weareth of his sire, Fergus, once king, wear thou mine arms this day, “Ocean,” my shield, that sea-like roars in ire Echoed on Erin’s farthest coasts, men say; And “Victory’s wing,” and “Flying Fate,” my spears And “Death,” my sword, annealed in widows’ tears.’1

Then strode Fiacre to battle, iron-mailed: But straight the king to Conal Carnach sent, ‘My kingdom reels by rebel hosts assailed: My son goes forth to meet them.2 Sickness-bent I wait the close.3 My bravest knight, my best!4 Strike for thy king!5 What care I for the rest?’6

Next to Cuchullain sent he: but that knight Frowned on the herald in his perilous mood, And said; ‘What part have I in civil fight?’7 Soon, face to face Fiacre and Illan stood: At last the royal youth, ’neath Illan’s sword Sank to one knee: at once in fury roared--8

Thus much and more the legends old avouch-- ‘Ocean,’ King Conor’s shield; for wroth was he A prince’s head beneath his shade should crouch, And wroth Emania’s coming doom to see: Three times the shield sent forth that sea-like roar; And thrice the three chief waves on Erin’s shore9

Responded, from the blue deeps landward rolling; The wave of Toth on Erin’s northern coast; Green Clidna’s wave like funeral bells far tolling; And Rory’s wave, the loudest.10 Through the host Rushed Conal Carnach at the third wave’s cry, And, shouting thus, ‘King Conor’s son will die!’11

In dashed while Illan o’er Fiacre was bending-- Illan his friend--and drave through Illan’s side, Knowing him not, the sword, his heart-strings rending: But Illan rose, and spake before he died: ‘Thy deeds were great, O friend!12 This last--this one-- Was not like Conal!13 I am Fergus’ son!14

‘I die to guard his name and Conor’s pledge.’15 Then Conal cried in storm of rage and woe, ‘Since Conor lied to me this faulchion’s edge Shall pay the debt he owes, and that I owe, A death to honour and to vengeance due;’ And down he dragged Fiacre, and, trampling, slew.16

That hour the royal host pierced through by grief, Clamoured, yet quailed at glance of Conal’s eye; While shouted Illan’s band, ‘Be thou our chief!17 Illan is dead.’18 Vouchsafing no reply Silent from both he turned; and, like a God Spurning some death-doomed city, homeward strode.19

But when the tidings came, ‘Fiacre is dead,’ King Conor dropped in swoon; and if that hour Illan had lived, and not the Ruthless Red, All Eman’s chiefs had joined to his their power; For Illan, like his sire, had Eman’s love:-- Thus Fate round Usnach’s Sons her net enwove.20

Around the Red-Branch House that Bonacht host Gathered once more: but on the left the might Of Ardan backward hurled them and their boast; And Ainli’s strength rebuked them on the right: Till came to Conor’s heart a wingèd thought; And ‘Fire!’ he cried; and branch and beam were brought,21

Circling the walls: up rushed the red flames roaring; And one by one, the seven great gates fell down; Then rushed from court to court, still onward pouring, Native with alien, man-at-arms with clown: Yet still the assailed fought on from stair to stair, Long time in rage, and later in despair.22

Meanwhile along the loftier cloister floors As though with fettered feet moved knight with knight, Or, idiot-like, stood peering by the doors, Divided purpose making null their might; Or stood in groups, and watched where, undismayed, That haughty pair at chess in silence played.23

But Naisi, glancing up, on Deirdré’s hair Saw the fierce reflex from a roof far off, And on her marble cheek the fiery glare, And heard from her fine lip the careless scoff, ‘At Conor’s fireside welcome sits the guest!’-- He rose, and sudden clasped her to his breast;24

Then held her from him, on her countenance bright Gazing.25 In neither face that hour was fear: She saw in his a sadness infinite: He saw, in hers, content, and princely cheer.26 At last she spake; ‘Self-questioning thoughts repel, Nor grieve at trust misplaced; for all is well!27

‘O Love, not thus upon that causeway old We stood that day, chaunting our nuptials high!28 Yet nothing is that was not then foretold-- Hast thou not happy been?29 More happy I, That hour thy love; for three glad years thy bride; That ran, and slept, and wakened at thy side!30

‘The good must still the auspice be of good; They never loved who dream that Love can die!31 In lordlier strength, in happier sanctitude Be sure he waits us in some realm more high.32 All thanks, thou Power Unknown!’33 She spake and kissed With all her young bright face her husband’s breast.34

Then rushed to them the Brothers shouting, ‘Forth!’35 And forth they sped through courts foot deep in blood, And reached the gate that issued to the north Where fierceliest raged the fight: and Deirdré trod Midmost between the twain, and Naisi first; And on the battle lion-like they burst.36

And still the Three above their sister raised Their mighty shields that, like three glittering spheres Glared through the gloom, and friend and foeman dazed; And fierce as living creatures worked their spears Dealing the death around, till all the plain Lay like a death-vault, strewn by warriors slain.37

And, foot by foot, the hostile hosts fell back; And, more and more, true friends, till then dismayed, Fought by their side, or followed in their track: Due northward t’ward the sea their march they made; And, marching, eyed full oft that fortress fired-- Therein full many a Red-Branch Knight expired.38

Then, as a poplar near a river whitens By gusts o’er-blown, and as some snowy vale Grows grimly dark when sudden o’er it brightens The mountain’s moonlit flank, thus dark, thus pale, Grew Conor with far eyes their course pursuing; ‘They ’scape,’ he cried, ‘and that is my undoing!39

‘Cathbad! give ear!’--for by him stood that hour The blind old Druid with the silver hair-- ‘To Alba make they; thence ere long with power Return in vengeance!40 Think you they will spare?41 And Conal and Cuchullain by their side Will march; and Fergus!42 Would that I had died!43

‘Help, Cathbad! last of friends!44 If e’er from thee Or child or stripling, help or love I gat; My craft has futile proved: my legions flee; Yet magic power, we know, can level flat All power of man in one brief moment’s space: Slay me, or spare my kingdom this disgrace!’45

To whom replied the old man tremulously, ‘Would God that ne’er had come that night of old When shriek on shriek confused the revelry, And I that new-born Infant’s fate foretold; For ne’er in ninety years deceived was I Or by man’s art, or wiles of Destiny!46

‘Not less, great king, this deed I dare not do, For Justice keeps an axe, and keen its edge, In worlds unseen; and they their sin shall rue Who spill the righteous blood, or break the pledge.47 Here Wrong holds court; but Justice reigneth there:-- King!48 In those unseen regions I have share!’49

Him Conor answered: ‘Cathbad! oath I make By all those regions sacred and unseen, By all the Powers that in them sleep or wake, The Gods that are, or shall be, or have been, This hand on Usnach’s sons shall work no wrong; Captive, not dead, I wish them--nor for long.’50

He spake, and softly to the Druid stept And pressed that Druid’s hand to lips and eyes; Then o’er the old man’s heart compassion crept, With flatter’d pride, which oft to good and wise Makes way, thus veiled, in weak, unwary hour; And o’er the North he waved his wand of power.51