🧚 Opening, part 9 · page 2

‘In those dread vaults, Magian and Alchemist, Supreme in every craft of brain and hand, The mountains’ mineral veins they beat and twist; And on red anvils forge them spear and brand For some predestined battle.45 Yea, men say The island shall be theirs that last great day!’46

CANTO THE SECOND.47

What time, forth sliding from the Eternal Gates, The centuries three on earth had lived and died, Thus spake Finola to her snowy mates, ‘No more in this soft haven may we bide: The second Woe succeeds; that heavier toil On Alba’s waves, the black sea-strait of Moyle.’48

Then wept to her in turn the younger three; ‘Alas the sharp rocks and the salt sea-foam!49 Thou therefore make the lay, ere yet we flee From this our exile’s cradle, sweet as home!’50 And thus Finola sang, while, far and near, The men of Erin wept that strain to hear:51

‘Farewell, Lough Darvra, with thine isles of bloom!52 Farewell, familiar tribes that grace her shore!53 The penance deepens on us, and the doom: Farewell!54 The voice of man we list no more Till he, the Tailkenn, comes to sound the knell Of darkness, and rings out his gladsome bell.’55

Thus singing, mid their dirge the sentenced soared Heaven-high; then hanging mute on plumes outspread, With downcast eye long time that lake explored; And lastly with a great cry northward sped: Then was it Erin’s sons, listening that cry, Decreed: ‘The man who slays a swan shall die.’56

Three days against the northern blast on-flying To Fate obedient and the Will Divine, They reached, what time the crimson eve was lying On Alba’s isles, and ocean’s utmost line, That huge sea-strait whose racing eddies boil ’Twixt Erin and the cloud-girt headland Moyle.57 [21]58

There anguish fell on them: they heard the booming Of league-long breakers white, and gazed on waves Wreck-strewn, themselves entombed, and all-entombing, Rolling to labyrinths dim of red-roofed caves; And streaming waters broad, as with one will In cataracts from gray shelves descending still.59

There, day by day, the sun more early set; And through the hollows of the high-ridged sea Which foamed around their rocky cabinet The whirlwinds beat them more remorselessly: And winter followed soon: and ofttimes storms Shrouded for weeks the mountains’ frowning forms.60

In time all ocean omens they had learned; And once, as o’er the darkening deep they roved, Finola, who the advancing woe discerned, Addressed them: ‘Little brothers, well beloved, Though many a storm hath tried us, yet the worst Comes up this night: now therefore, ere it burst61

‘Devise we swiftly if, through God’s high Will, Billow or blast divides us each from each, Some refuge-house wherein, when winds are still, To meet once more--low rock or sandy beach:’ And answer thus they made: ‘One spot alone This night can yield us refuge, Carickrone.’62

They spake, and sudden thunder shook the world, And blackness wrapped the seas, and lightnings rent; And each from each abroad those swans were hurled By solid water-scud.63 Outworn and spent At last, that direful tempest over-blown, Finola scaled their trysting-rock--alone.64

But when she found no gentle brother near, And heard the great storm roaring far away, Anguish of anguish pierced her heart, and fear, And thus she made her moan and sang her lay: ‘Death-cold they lie along the far sea-tide: Would that as cold I drifted at their side!’65

Thus as she sang, behold, the sun uprose, And smote a swan that on a wave’s smooth crest Exhausted lay, like one by pitiless foes Trampled, and looking but to death for rest: He also clomb that rock, though weak and worn, With bleeding feet and pinions tempest-torn.66

Aodh was he!67 He couched him by her side; Straight, her right wing, Finola o’er him spread: Ere long beneath the rock Fiacre she spied, Wounded yet more; yet soon he hid his head ’Neath her left wing, her nestling’s wonted place, And slept content in that beloved embrace.68

But still Finola mused with many a tear, ‘Alas for us, of little Conn bereft!’69 Then Conn came floating by, full blithe of cheer, For he, secure within a craggy cleft, Had slept all night; and now once more his nest He made beneath his snowy sister’s breast.70

And as they slept she sang: ‘Among the flowers Of old we played where princes quaffed their wine; But now for flowery fields sea-floods are ours; And now our wine-cup is the bitter brine: Yet, brothers, fear no ill; for God will send At last his Tailkenn, and our woes find end.’71

And God, Who of least things has tenderest thought, Looked down on them benignly from on high, And bade that bitter brine to enter not Their scars, unhealed as yet, lest they should die; And nearer sent their choicest food full oft, And clothed their wings with plumage fine and soft.72

And ever as the spring advanced, the sea Put on a kindlier aspect.73 Cliffs deep-scarred To milder airs gave welcome festively Upon their iron breasts and foreheads hard, And, while about their feet the ripples played, Cast o’er the glaring deep a friendlier shade.74

And when at last the full midsummer panted Upon the austere main, and high-peaked isles, And hills that, like some elfin land enchanted, Now charmed, now mocked the eye with phantom smiles, More far round Alba’s shores the swans made way To Islay’s beach, and cloud-loved Colonsay.75

The growths beside their native lake oft noted In that sublimer clime no more they missed; Jewels, not flowers they found where’er they floated, Emerald and sapphire, opal, amethyst, Far-kenned through watery depths or magic air, Or trails of broken rainbows, here and there.76

Round Erin’s northern coasts they drifted on From Rathlin isle to Fanad’s beetling crest, And where, in frowning sunset steeped, forth shone The ‘Bloody Foreland,’ gazing t’ward the west; Yet still with duteous hearts to Moyle returned-- To love their place of penance they had learned.77

One time it chanced that, onward as they drifted Where Banna’s current joins that stormy sea, A princely company with banners lifted Rode past on snow-white steeds and sang for glee: At once they knew those horsemen, form and face, Their native stock--Tuatha’s ancient race!78

T’ward them they sped: their sorrows they recounted: The warriors could not aid them, and rode by: Then higher than of old their anguish mounted; And farther rang through heaven their piteous cry; And when it ceased, this lay Finola sang While all the echoing rocks and caverns rang:79

‘Whilome in purple clad we sat elate: The warriors watched us at their nut-brown mead: But now we roam the waters desolate, Or breast the languid beds of waving weed: Our food was then fine bread; our drink was wine: This day on sea-plants sour we peak and pine.80

‘Whilome our four small cots of pearl and gold Lay, side by side, before our father’s bed, And silken foldings kept us from the cold: But now on restless waves our couch is spread; And now our bed-clothes are the white sea-foam: And now by night the sea-rock is our home.’81

Not less from them such sorrows swiftly passed Since evermore one thought their bosoms filled-- That father’s home.82 That haunt, in memory glassed, Childhood perpetual o’er their lives distilled: And, coast what shore they might, green vale and plain Bred whiter flocks, men said, more golden grain.83