I hear the dusky ousel that sends a joyous greeting to all the faithful: My speech, my shape are spectral--hush, woman, do not speak to me!

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 6: A kenning for a band of warriors. 'The flowers of the forest have all wede away.']

[Footnote 7: A famous mythical hero.]

[Footnote 8: A slave-woman (rated at three cows) was the standard of value among the ancient Irish.]

[Footnote 9: A battle-goddess.]

DEIRDRE'S FAREWELL TO SCOTLAND

A beloved land is yon land in the east, Alba[10] with its marvels. I would not have come hither[11] out of it, Had I not come with Noisi.

Beloved are Dun Fidga and Dun Finn, Beloved is the fortress above them, Beloved is the Isle of the Thorn-bush, And beloved is Dun Sweeny.

Caill Cuan! Unto which Ainnle would go, alas! Short we thought the time there, Noisi and I in the land of Alba.

Glen Lay! There I used to sleep under a shapely rock. Fish and venison and badger's fat, That was my portion in Glen Lay.

Glen Massan! Tall is its wild garlic, white are its stalks: We used to have a broken sleep On the grassy river-mouth of Massan.

Glen Etive! There I raised my first house. Delightful its house! when we rose in the morning A sunny cattle-fold was Glen Etive.

Glen Urchain! That was the straight, fair-ridged glen! Never was man of his age prouder Than Noisi in Glen Urchain.

Glen Da Ruadh! Hail to him who hath it as an heritage! Sweet is the cuckoo's voice on bending branch On the peak above Glen Da Ruadh.

Beloved is Draighen over a firm beach! Beloved its water in pure sand! I would never have left it, from the east, Had I not come with my beloved.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 10: i.e. Scotland.]

[Footnote 11: i.e. to Ireland.]

DEIRDRE'S LAMENT

And Deirdre dishevelled her hair and began kissing Noisi and drinking his blood, and the colour of embers came into her cheeks, and she uttered this lay.

Long is the day without Usnagh's Children; It was never mournful to be in their company. A king's sons, by whom exiles were rewarded, Three lions from the Hill of the Cave.

Three dragons of Dun Monidh, The three champions from the Red Branch: After them I shall not live-- Three that used to break every onrush.

Three darlings of the women of Britain, Three hawks of Slieve Gullion, Sons of a king whom valour served, To whom soldiers would pay homage.

Three heroes who were not good at homage, Their fall is cause of sorrow-- Three sons of Cathba's daughter, Three props of the battle-host of Coolney.

Three vigorous bears, Three lions out of Liss Una, Three lions who loved their praise, Three pet sons of Ulster.

That I should remain after Noisi Let no one in the world suppose! After Ardan and Ainnle My time would not be long.

Ulster's high-king, my first husband, I forsook for Noisi's love: Short my life after them, I will perform their funeral game.

After them I will not be alive-- Three that would go into every conflict, Three who liked to endure hardships, Three heroes who never refused combat.

O man that diggest the tomb, And that puttest my darling from me, Make not the grave too narrow, I shall be beside the noble ones.

THE HOSTS OF FAERY

White shields they carry in their hands, With emblems of pale silver; With glittering blue swords, With mighty stout horns.

In well-devised battle array, Ahead of their fair chieftain They march amid blue spears, Pale-visaged, curly-headed bands.

They scatter the battalions of the foe, They ravage every land they attack, Splendidly they march to combat, A swift, distinguished, avenging host!

No wonder though their strength be great: Sons of queens and kings are one and all; On their heads are Beautiful golden-yellow manes.

With smooth comely bodies, With bright blue-starred eyes, With pure crystal teeth, With thin red lips.

Good they are at man-slaying, Melodious in the ale-house, Masterly at making songs, Skilled at playing fidchell.[12]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 12: A game like draughts or chess.]

FROM THE VISION OF MAC CONGLINNE

A vision that appeared to me, An apparition wonderful I tell to all: There was a coracle all of lard Within a port of New-milk Lake Upon the world's smooth sea.

We went into that man-of-war, 'Twas warrior-like to take the road O'er ocean's heaving waves. Our oar-strokes then we pulled Across the level of the main, Throwing the sea's harvest up Like honey, the sea-soil.

The fort we reached was beautiful, With works of custards thick, Beyond the lake. Fresh butter was the bridge in front, The rubble dyke was fair white wheat, Bacon the palisade.

Stately, pleasantly it sat, A compact house and strong. Then I went in: The door of it was hung beef, The threshold was dry bread, Cheese-curds the walls.

Smooth pillars of old cheese And sappy bacon props Alternate ranged; Stately beams of mellow cream, White posts of real curds Kept up the house.

Behind it was a well of wine, Beer and bragget in streams, Each full pool to the taste. Malt in smooth wavy sea Over a lard-spring's brink Flowed through the floor.

A lake of juicy pottage Under a cream of oozy lard Lay 'twixt it and the sea. Hedges of butter fenced it round, Under a crest of white-mantled lard Around the wall outside.

A row of fragrant apple-trees, An orchard in its pink-tipped bloom, Between it and the hill. A forest tall of real leeks, Of onions and of carrots, stood Behind the house.

Within, a household generous, A welcome of red, firm-fed men, Around the fire: Seven bead-strings and necklets seven Of cheeses and of bits of tripe Round each man's neck.

The Chief in cloak of beefy fat Beside his noble wife and fair I then beheld. Below the lofty caldron's spit Then the Dispenser I beheld, His fleshfork on his back.

Wheatlet son of Milklet, Son of juicy Bacon, Is mine own name. Honeyed Butter-roll Is the man's name That bears my bag.

Haunch of Mutton Is my dog's name, Of lovely leaps. Lard, my wife, Sweetly smiles Across the brose.

Cheese-curds, my daughter, Goes round the spit, Fair is her fame. Corned Beef is my son, Who beams over a cloak, Enormous, of fat.

Savour of Savours Is the name of my wife's maid: Morning-early Across New-milk Lake she went.

Beef-lard, my steed, An excellent stallion That increases studs; A guard against toil Is the saddle of cheese Upon his back.

A large necklace of delicious cheese-curds Around his back; His halter and his traces all Of fresh butter.

RELIGIOUS POETRY

THE DEER'S CRY

Patrick sang this hymn when the ambuscades were laid against him by King Loeguire (Leary) that he might not go to Tara to sow the faith. Then it seemed to those lying in ambush that he and his monks were wild deer with a fawn, even Benen, following them. And its name is 'Deer's Cry.'

I arise to-day Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity, Through belief in the threeness, Through confession of the oneness Of the Creator of Creation.

I arise to-day Through the strength of Christ's birth with His baptism, Through the strength of His crucifixion with His burial, Through the strength of His resurrection with His ascension, Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of Doom.

I arise to-day Through the strength of the love of Cherubim, In obedience of angels, In the service of archangels, In hope of resurrection to meet with reward, In prayers of patriarchs, In predictions of prophets, In preachings of apostles, In faiths of confessors, In innocence of holy virgins, In deeds of righteous men.

I arise to-day Through the strength of heaven: Light of sun, Radiance of moon, Splendour of fire, Speed of lightning, Swiftness of wind, Depth of sea, Stability of earth, Firmness of rock.

I arise to day Through God's strength to pilot me: God's might to uphold me, God's wisdom to guide me, God's eye to look before me, God's ear to hear me, God's word to speak for me, God's hand to guard me, God's way to lie before me, God's shield to protect me, God's host to save me From snares of devils, From temptations of vices, From every one who shall wish me ill, Afar and anear, Alone and in a multitude.

I summon to-day all these powers between me and those evils, Against every cruel merciless power that may oppose my body and soul, Against incantations of false prophets, Against black laws of pagandom, Against false laws of heretics, Against craft of idolatry, Against spells of women and smiths and wizards, Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul.

Christ to shield me to-day Against poison, against burning, Against drowning, against wounding, So that there may come to me abundance of reward. Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ on my right, Christ on my left, Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise, Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me, Christ in the mouth of every one who speaks of me, Christ in every eye that sees me, Christ in every ear that hears me.

I arise to-day Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity, Through belief in the threeness, Through confession of the oneness Of the Creator of Creation.

AN EVEN-SONG