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CONARY
ОглавлениеIntroductory Note.
The old Irish Bardic tale of the Destruction of the House (bruidin) of Da-Derga—for my first acquaintance with which I am indebted to Mr. W. M. Hennessy—furnishes the ground-work of this piece; but it will not be understood that ‘Conary’ pretends to be a full reproduction of the Togail bruidin da dergae, or that all its incidents are drawn from that source.
The Bruidin is generally regarded as having been a kind of Caravanserai; and there seem good grounds for accepting the idea of the late ingenious Mr. Crowe that it represents, in the west of Europe, the Prytaneum or house of state-hospitality of the ancient Greeks. There appear to have been six principal places of this kind in Ireland at the commencement of the Christian era; and one of these, called Bruidin-Da-Derga, is said to have been the scene of the death of King Conary Mor, whose reign is made to synchronize with the close of the Pagan period, under the circumstances related in the tale.
The classical reader will find in the Togail a curious—probably an unexpected—illustration of the old eastern method of computing the losses in a military expedition. There, the forces, before departing on their campaign, cast each man an arrow into a common receptacle; from which, on their return, each man withdrew an arrow; and the weapons remaining represented the dead and missing. (Procop. de bell. Pers. l. i., c. ii.) The actors in the Togail cast, every man, a stone into a common heap, or cairn, and what remained after each survivor had withdrawn his stone, served as the census and memorial of the slain.
The singular and terrible properties ascribed to the Spear of Keltar in the Togail may not be without some bearing on Homer’s expression μαίνεται ἐν παλάμησι in reference to the Spear of Diomede.
The Togail also contributes its evidence to the great antiquity of the leading lines of highway. There were five of these ‘Streets’ radiating from Tara, the two mentioned in the tale together corresponding pretty nearly with the old post-road from Dublin to the north. The author of the Togail places the site of Bruidin-Da-Derga on the River Dodder, in the ancient territory of Cualann, near Dublin, where Bobernabreena, or ‘Road of the Bruidin’, still preserves the name. The fact of a sea-invasion corresponding in its main features with the descent of the pirates on the coasts of Meath and Dublin, is chronicled in the Book of Howth, and still lives very vividly in local oral tradition about Balrothery and Balbriggan.
Full peace was Erin’s under Conary,
Till—though his brethren by the tender tie
Of fosterage—Don Dessa’s lawless sons,
Fer-ger, Fer-gel, and vengeful Fergobar,
For crimes that justly had demanded death,5
By judgement mild he sent in banishment;
Yet wrung his own fraternal heart the while,
Whose brothers, Ferragon and Lomna Druth,
Drawn by affection’s ties, and thinking scorn
To stay behind while others led the way10
To brave adventure, in their exile joined.
Banished the land of Erin, on the sea
They roamed, and, roaming, with the pirate-hordes
Of British Ingcel leagued; and this their pact:
The spoil of Britain’s and of Alba’s coasts15
To fall to them; and Erin’s counter-spoil
To fall to Ingcel. Britain’s borders first
They ravaged; and in one pernicious raid
Of sack and slaughter indiscriminate,
Ingcel’s own father and his brethren seven20
By chance sojourning with the victims, slew.
Then, Alba sack’d, said Ingcel, ‘Steer we now
For Erin, and the promised counter-spoil.’
‘ ’Tis just; and welcome to our souls as well
For outrage unavenged,’ said Fergobar.25
‘ ’Tis just: it is thy right,’ said Ferragon.
‘ ’Tis just, and woe it is!’ said Lomna Druth.
’Twas then that Conary from strife composed
By kingly counsel, ’twixt contending lords
Of distant Thomond, held his journey home.30
But, when in sight of Tara, lo, the sky
On every side reflected rising flame
And gleam of arms. ‘What this?’ cried Conary.
A certain Druid was there in the train
Who answered, ‘Often did I warn thee, King,35
This journey at this season was ill-timed,
As made in violation of the gaysh[1]
That King of Tara shall not judge a cause
Except in Tara’s proper judgement hall
From Beltane-day to May-day.’
‘Yea, in truth,40
I do remember now,’ said Conary,
‘Amongst my prohibitions that is one,
Which thoughtlessly I’ve broken. Strange it is
That act for speedy justice and for peace
Accomplished, should, with God, be disesteem’d.45
But, since Religion’s awful voice forbids,
I pray forgiveness of offended Heaven,
Whose anger at my fault too plain I see,
And vow atonement at thy own award.
But, which way now?’
‘Ride northward to the track50
Where Street Midluachra and Street Cualann join;
There, choice of highway waits us, north or south.’
Northward they rode. ‘What be these moving brakes
Before us? Nay, ’tis but a running drove
Of antlered stags. Whence come they? and whence come55
These darkening flights of fowl above our heads?’
‘These the wild brood of Clane-Milcarna’s dens:’
Replied the druid. ‘It is another gaysh
For Tara’s King to see them leave their lairs
After mid-day; and ill will come of it.’60
‘Omens of evil gather round my path,
Though thought of evil in my breast is none,’
Said Conary, and heaved a heavy sigh;
‘Yet, since I reign by law, and holy men
Charged with the keeping of the law, declare65
Thou shalt not so-and-so, at such a time
Do or leave undone, it beseems not me
To question for what end the law is so:
Though, were it but a human ordinance,
’Twere, haply, counted childish: but, go to,70
I own another violated gaysh;
I pray forgiveness of offended Heaven;
And, since some fierce invading enemy—
Misguided brothers, that it be not you!—
Bars our approach to Tara, let us choose75
Cualann highroad; for Cualann-ward there dwells
One whom I once befriended; and I know
His home will give me shelter for to-night,
Knew I aright the way that leads to it.’
‘Name of the man, oh King?’ demanded Cecht80
(Fly ye, foes all, fly ye before the face
Of Cecht, the battle-sidesman of the King!),
The biggest man yet gentlest-countenanced
Of all that rode in Conary’s company.
‘Da-Derga he,’ said Conary.
‘Ride on,’85
Said Cecht. ‘Street Cualann whereon now we are
Leads straight to Bru’n-Da-Derga, and leads straight
Through and beyond it. ’Tis a house of rest
For all that come and go; where ready still
The traveller finds the wind-dried fuel stack’d,90
The cauldron slung, the ale-vat on the floor.
A strong, fast mansion. Seven good doors it has,
And seven good benches betwixt door and door
And seven good couches spread ’twixt bench and bench.
All that attend thee now, and all that come—95
See where they come along Midluachra track,
The host of Emain, in good time I judge,
Journeying south—shall nothing want for room.
I shall go forward: for my duty it is
To enter first at nightfall, when my king100
Comes to his lodging; and with flint and steel
Kindle the fire whose flame shall guide him home.’
Then forth, at gallop of his steeds, went Cecht;
While, slower following, Conary was aware
Of three that rode before them on the way.105
Red were their coursers and their mantles red,
Red, too, their caps, blood-red—
‘Another gaysh,’
Said Conary. ‘I also call to mind
Amid my prohibitions this is one,
To follow three red riders on the way;110
Injunction idle, were it not divine.
After them, Ferflath; stay them till we pass.’
Then the light lad young Ferflath, Conary’s son,
Sprang forth at gallop on the red men’s track,
And called his message shrilly from behind,115
But failed to overtake them. He who rode
Last of the triad sang him back a lay—
‘Water, oh youth, oh slight swift-riding youth,
On back, on neck, on shoulder lightly borne,
Water will quench: fire burn; and shocks of hair120
At horrid tidings, upon warriors’ heads
Bristle as reeds in water; water; ho!’
Ferflath returned, and told to Conary
The lay the red man sang; ‘and sir,’ he said,
‘I rode, I think, as seemly as himself,125
And know not what he meant: but sure I am
These are not men of mankind, as we are,
But fairy men and ministers of ill.’
‘Now then,’ said Conary, ‘let every gaysh
That dread Religion with hard-knotting hand130
Binds on the King of Tara, for to-day
Be broken! Let them go. They may precede;
May tie their red steeds at the great hall door,
And choose their seats within; and I, the King,
May follow, and accept the traveller’s place135
Last to attain the inn. Well, be it so:
Respect departs with fortune’s one-day change,
But, friends, despond not, you. Though few we be
In midst of these marauders (oh, my heart
Forbid the rising thought that these be they!)140
Yet shall we soon be many; for they come,
They whom on Street Midluachra late we saw,
Now following on Street Cualann. In good time
They join us; for, be sure such chariot-throng
Leaves not the borders of the warlike North,145
But champions good come with it. Let us in.’
While thus fared Conary, the pirates’ scouts
Who watched the coast, put off to where the fleet,
Stay’d on the heaving ridges of the main,
Lay off Ben-Edar. Ingcel’s galley reached,150
High on the prow they found him looking forth,
As from a crag o’er-hanging grassy lands
Where home-bred cattle graze, the lion glares
A-hungered; and, behind, as meaner beasts
That wait the lion’s onset for their share,155
Outlaw’d and reprobate of many a land,
The ravening crew. Beside him, right and left,
Stood Lomna, Ferragon, and Fergobar;
Which Lomna in the closure of his cloak
Wore a gold brooch embossed with flashing gems160
Choicest by far of all their spoils yet won:
And Ingcel thus demanded of the spies—
‘What saw ye, say?’
‘A chariot-cavalcade
Along Street Cualann moving from the north.
Splendid the show of lofty-pacing steeds165
And glittering war-cars: chariots seventeen
We counted. In the first were reverend men,
Poets, belike, or judges. After these
Heralds, it seem’d, or high apparitors
That give the world to know a great one comes.170
He in the third car rode; an aged man,
Full-grey, majestical, of face serene,
Followed by household numerous and strong,
Cooks, butlers, door-wards, cup-bearers, and grooms.’
‘What heard ye?’
‘From a vast hall’s open doors175
The stroke of steel on flint at kindling fire;
And every stroke so sounded as the arm
That gave it were a giant’s, and every shower
Of sparks it shed—as if a summer sky
Lightened at eve—illumined the dusk around.’180
‘What this, good Ferragon, who best of all
Knowest Erin, hill and valley, things and men?’
Said Ingcel. Ferragon made answer slow,
(For, first, his soul said this within himself,
‘Oh, royal brother, that it be not thou!’)—185
‘I know not what may be this open hall
With fire at hand unless, belike, it be
Da-Derga’s guest-house, which, for all who come
By Cualann Street, stands open, wherein still
Firewood stands stack’d and brazen cauldron hangs190
Slung ready, and clear water running through;
Bruidin-Da-Derga.’
‘And the man who strikes
The flint and steel to kindle fire therein?’
‘I know not if it be not that he be
Some king’s fore-runner, sent before a king195
To kindle fire ere yet the king himself
And royal household reach their resting-place.’
‘And he who in the thirdmost chariot rode,
He who is grey, serene, majestical?’
‘I know not if it be not that he be200
Some king of Erin’s sub-kings who, to-night,
Rests in Da-Derga’s hospitable hall.’
‘Up sail! To shore!’ cried Ingcel; and the fleet,
As flight of wild-geese startled from a fen,
Displayed their wings of white, and made the land.205
’Twas at Troy Furveen, and the sun was down;
But, from Da-Derga’s hall so streamed the light,
It shone at distance as a ruddy star;
And thitherward the host o’er moor and fell
Marched straight: but when behind a sheltering knoll210
Hard by, but still concealed, the ranks were drawn,
‘Make now our carn,’ said Ingcel, and the host
Defiling past him, cast, each man, his stone
All in one heap.
‘When this night’s work is done,’
Said Ingcel, ‘he who shall return alive215
Shall take his stone again. Who not returns,
His stone shall here remain his monument.
And now, before we make the trial of who
Returns, and who stays yonder, let us send
Scout Milscoth—for he bears the boast of sight220
And far-off hearing far above us all—
To spy the house and bring us speedy word
Of all he sees and hears, outside and in:
So shall we judge how best to win the same.’
Forth went the spy: they waited by their carn,225
Till, gliding as a shadow, he returned:
And round him, as he came, they drew a ring,
Round him and Ingcel and Don Dessa’s sons,
And round their destined stones of memory.
‘What sawest thou outward?’
‘Outward of the house230
I saw, drawn up at every guarded door,
Full seventeen chariots; and, between the spokes,
Spying, I saw, to rings of iron tied,
At end and side wall, thrice a hundred steeds
Groom’d sleek, ear-active, eating corn and hay.’235
‘What means this concourse, think’st thou, Ferragon?’
‘I know not if it be not that a host
Resorting, it may be, to games or fair
At Tara or at Taltin, rest to-night
In the great guest-house. ’Twill be heavier cost240
Of blows and blood to win it than it seem’d.’
‘A guest-house, whether many within or few,
Is as the travellers’ temple, and esteemed
In every civil land a sanctuary.
’Twere woe to sack the inn,’ said Lomna Druth.245
‘Lomna,’ said Ingcel, ‘when we swore our oaths
We made not reservation of the inn:
And, for their numbers, fear not, Ferragon;
The more, the more the spoil. Say on, and tell
What heard’st thou?’
‘Through the open doors I heard250
A hum as of a crowd of feasting men.
Princely the murmur, as when voices strong
Of far-heard captains on the front of war
Sink low and sweet in company of queens.’
‘What think’st thou, Ferragon?’
‘The gentlest speech255
Within doors gives the loudest cheer afield.
Methinks to spoil this house will try our strength.’
‘And it shall try it: and our strength shall bear
That and worse trial. Say, what sawest thou next
Within the house? Begin from the right hand.’260
‘To rightward of the great door in the midst
A bench I saw: ten warriors sat thereon.
The captain of the ten was thus. His brow
Thick and high arching o’er a grey clear eye:
A face long-oval, broader-boned above:265
A man whose look bespoke adventure past
And days of danger welcome yet to come,
Though sadden’d somewhat, haply by remorse
For blood ill-spilt or broken vows or both.
His mantle green, his brooch and sword-hilt gold,’270
‘What captain this, conceiv’st thou, Ferragon?’
‘I know him; verily a man of might;
A man of name renown’d in field and hall;
Cormac Condlongas, long the banish’d son
Of Conor son of Nessa. When his sire275
Through love of Deirdre broke his guarantees
Pledged to his step-sire, Fergus son of Roy,
For Usnach’s sons’ safe-conduct, Cormac, he,
Through love of Fergus and through stronger love
Of kingly-plighted honour undefiled,280
Abjured his father’s councils and his court,
And in the hostile halls of western Maeve
Spent many a year of heart-corroding care,
And many a man of Ulster, many a man
Of his own kin, in alien service, slew.285
If he be there, methinks to-night’s assault
Will leave the stones of some here unremoved.’
Said Ingcel, ‘I shall know him, when I see
That pale remorseful visage by and by,
And that same brooch and sword-hilt shall be mine.290
What of the nine?’
‘The nine he sat among
Were men of steadfast looks, that at his word,
So seemed it me, would stay not to inquire
Whose kindred were they he might bid them slay.’
‘Knowest thou, oh friend, the serviceable nine?’295
‘I know them also,’ answered Ferragon.
‘Of them ’tis said they never slew a man
For evil deed, and never spared a man
For good deed; but, as ordered, duteous, slew
Or slew not. Shun that nine, unless your heads300
Be cased in casquets made of adamant;
Else shall the corpse of many a valiant man
Now present, on Da-Derga’s threshold lie.’
‘Nine for his nine!’ said Ingcel. ‘Think not thou
By tongue-drawn dangers and deterrent phrase305
Exaggerate, to shake my settled soul
From that which is my right. Say on: what next?’
‘A bench of three: thick-hair’d, and equal-long
The hair on poll and brow. Black cloaks they wore,
Black their sword-sheaths, their hafted lances black;310
Fair men, withal, themselves, and ruddy-brown.’
‘Who these, oh Ferragon?’
‘I know not, I,
Unless, it may be, these be of the Picts
Exiled from Alba, who in Conor’s house
Have shelter; and, if these indeed be they,315
Three better out of Alba never came
Or sturdier to withstand the brunt of blows.’
‘Blows they shall have,’ said Ingcel; ‘and their home,
Rid of their presence well, shall not again
Have need to doom them to a new exile.320
What further sawest thou?’
‘On the bench beside
I saw three slender, three face-shaven men,
Robed in red mantles and with caps of red.
No swords had they, nor bore they spear or shield,
But each man on his knees a bagpipe held325
With jewelled chanter flashing as he moved,
And mouth-piece ready to supply the wind.’
‘What pipers these?’
‘These pipers of a truth,
If so it be that I mistake them not,
Appear not often in men’s halls of glee;330
Men of the Sidhs[2] they are; and I have heard
When strife fell out in Tara Luachra’s hall
Around Cuchullin and the butchering bands
Of treacherous Maeve and Ailill, they were there.’
‘To-night their pipes shall play us to our ships335
With strains of triumph; or their fingers’ ends
Shall never close the stops of music more,’
So Ingcel; but again said Ferragon,
‘Men of the Sidhs they are: to strike at them
Is striking at a shadow. If ’tis they,340
Shun this assault; for I have also heard
At the first tuning of these elvish pipes
Nor crow nor cormorant round all the coasts
But hastens to partake the flesh of men.’
‘Flesh ye shall have, of Ingcel’s enemies,345
All fowl that hither flap the wing to-night!
And music too at table, as it seems.
What further sawest thou?’
‘On a broader bench
Three vast-proportioned warriors, by whose side
The slender pipers showed as small as wrens.350
In their first greyness they; grey-dark their robes,
Grey-dark their swords enormous, of an edge
To slice the hair on water. He who sits
The midmost of the three grasps with both hands
A spear of fifty rivets, and so sways355
And swings the weapon as a man might think
The very thing had life, and struggled strong
To dash itself at breasts of enemies:
A cauldron at his feet, big as the vat
Of a king’s kitchen; in that vat a pool,360
Hideous to look upon, of liquor black:
Therein he dips and cools the blade by times.’
‘Resolve us who be these three, Ferragon.’
‘Not hard to tell; though hard, perchance to hear
For those who listen, and who now must know365
What foes their fortunes dooms them cope withal,
If this assault be given while these be here.
These three are Sencha son of Olioll,
Called “Half-the-battle” by admiring men;
Duftach, for fierceness named the Addercop;370
And Govnan son of Luignech; and the spear
In hands of Duftach is the famous “lann[3]”
Of Keltar son of Utechar, which erst
A wizard of the Tuath De Danaan brought
To battle at Moy Tury, and there lost:375
Found after. And these motions of the spear,
And sudden sallies hard to be restrained,
Affect it, oft as blood of enemies
Is ripe for spilling; and a cauldron then
Full of witch-brewage needs must be at hand,380
To quench it, when the homicidal act
Is by its blade expected; quench it not,
It blazes up, even in the holder’s hand,
And through the holder, and the door-planks through,
Flies forth to sate itself in massacre.385
Ours is the massacre it now would make:
Our blood it maddens for: sirs, have a care
How ye assault where champions such as these
Armed with the lann of Keltar, wait within.’
‘I have a certain blade,’ said Ingcel, ‘here;390
Steel’d by Smith Wayland in a Lochlann cave
Whose temper has not failed me; and I mean
To cut the foul head off this Addercop,
And snap his gadding spear across my knee.
Go on, and say what more thou sawest within.’395
‘A single warrior on a separate bench
I saw. Methinks no man was ever born
So stately-built, so perfect of his limbs,
So hero-like as he. Fair-haired he is
And yellow-bearded, with an eye of blue.400
He sits apart and wears a wistful look,
As if he missed some friend’s companionship.’
Then Ferragon, not waiting question, cried,
‘Gods! all the foremost, all the valiantest
Of Erin’s champions, gathered in one place405
For our destruction, are assembled here!
That man is Conall Carnach; and the friend
He looks for vainly with a wistful eye
Is great Cuchullin: he no more shall share
The upper bench with Conall; since the tomb410
Holds him, by hand of Conall well avenged.
The foremost this, the mightiest champion this
Left of the Red Branch, since Cuchullin’s fall.
Look you, as thick as fragments are of ice
When one night’s frost is crackled underfoot,415
As thick as autumn leaves, as blades of grass,
Shall the lopp’d members and the cloven half-heads
Of them that hear me, be, by break of day,
Before Da-Derga’s doors, if this assault
Be given, while Conall Carnach waits within!’420
‘Pity to slay that man,’ said Lomna Druth.
‘That is the man who, matched at fords of Clane,
With maimed Mesgedra, though no third was near,
Tied up his own right hand, to fight him fair.
A man both mild and valiant, frank and wise,425
A friend of men of music and of song,
Loved of all women: were there only one
Such hero in the house, for that one’s sake
Forgo this slaughter!’
‘Lomna,’ Ingcel said,
‘Not without reason do men call thee fool;430
And, Ferragon, think not that fear of man
The bravest ever born on Irish soil
Shall make its shameful entrance in the breast
Of one of all who hear us. Spy, say on,
What further sawest thou?’
‘Three brave youths I saw;435
Three brothers, as I judge. Their mantles wide
Were all of Syrian silk; and needle-work
Of gold on every hem. With ivory combs
They smoothed the shining ridges of their hair
That spread and rippled to their shoulder-tips,440
And moved with every motion of their brows.
A slender, tender boy beside them slept,
His head in one attendant’s lap, his feet
In lap of other one; and, couched beside,
A hound I saw, and heard him “Ossar” called.’445
‘Whose be these Syrian silks shall soon be mine.
O Ferragon? and wherefore weep’st thou, say?’
‘Alas, too well I know them; and I weep
To think that where they are, he must be near,
Their father, Conary, himself, the king:450
And woe it is that he whose infant lips
Suck’d the same breast as ours, should now be there!’
‘What, Conary, the arch-king of the realm
Of Erin here? Say, sawest thou there a king?’
‘I know not if a king; but one I saw455
Seated apart: before his couch there hung
A silver broidered curtain; grey he was,
Of aspect mild, benevolent, composed.
A cloak he wore of colour like the haze
Of a May morning when the sun shines warm460
On dewy meads and fresh-ploughed tillage land,
Variously beautiful, with border broad
Of golden woof that glittered to his knee
A stream of light. Before him on the floor
A juggler played his feats: nine balls he had,465
And flung them upward, eight in air at once,
And one in hand: like swarm of summer bees
They danced and circled, till his eye met mine;
Then he could catch no more; but down they fell
And rolled upon the floor. “An evil eye470
Has seen me,” said the juggler; and the child
Who slept beside, awoke, and cried aloud,
“Ossar! good dog, hie forth and chase the thieves!”
Then judged I longer to remain were ill,
But, ere I left, discharged a rapid glance475
Around the house, beholding many a band
Of able guardsmen corsleted and helm’d,
Of captains, carriers, farriers, charioteers,
Horseboys and laqueys, all in order set,
All good men of their hands, and weapon’d well.’480
Said Ferragon, ‘If my advice were given,
’Twould be to leave this onset unessayed.’
‘Pity to slay this king,’ said Lomna Druth:
‘Since he has reigned there has not fallen a year
Of dearth, or plague, or murrain on the land:485
The dew has never left the blade of grass
One day of Conary’s time, before the noon;
Nor harsh wind ruffled hair upon the side
Of grazing beast. Since he began his reign,
From mid-spring to mid-autumn, cloud nor storm490
Has dimm’d the daily-shining, bounteous sun;
But each good year has seen its harvests three,
Of blade, of ear, of fruit, apple and nut.
Peace until now in all his realm has reigned,
And terror of just laws kept men secure.495
What though, by love constrained, in passion’s hour,
I joined my fortunes to the desperate fates
Of hapless kinsmen, I repent it now,
And wish that rigorous law had had its course
Sooner than this good king should now be slain.’500
‘Not spoken like a brother,’ Ingcel said,
‘Nor one who feels for brothers by the side
Of a grey father butchered, as I feel.’
‘ ’Twas blind chance-medley, and we knew them not,
For kin of thine,’ said Ferragon; ‘but he,505
This king, is kin of ours; and that thou knowest
With seasonable warning: it were woe
To slay him.’
‘Woe it were, perchance, to thee;
To me, ’twere joy to slay both him and them;
’Twere blood for blood, and what my soul desires.510
My father was a king: my brethren seven
Were princely nurtured. Think’st thou I for them
Feel not compassion? nourish not desire
Of vengeance? No. I stand upon the oaths
Ye swore me; I demand my spoil for spoil,515
My blood for blood.’
‘ ’Tis just,’ said Fergobar,
‘We promised and will make the bargain good.’
‘Yet take the spoil we own to be thy right
Elsewhere,’ said Ferragon; ‘not here nor now.
We gave thee licence, and we grant it still,520
To take a plunder: look around and choose
What trading port, what dealers’ burgh ye will,
We give it, and will help you to the gain.’
‘We gave thee licence,’ Lomna said,—‘and I
Grieve that we gave it, yea, or took the like,—525
To take a plunder; but we gave thee not
Licence to take the life, the soul itself
Of our whole nation, as you now would do.
For, slay our reverend sages of the law,
Slay him who puts the law they teach in act;530
Slay our sweet poets, and our sacred bards,
Who keep the continuity of time
By fame perpetual of renowned deeds;
Slay our experienced captains who prepare
The youth for martial manhood, and the charge535
Of public freedom, as befits a state
Self-governed, self-sufficing, self-contained;
Slay all that minister our loftier life,
Now by this evil chance assembled here,
You leave us but the carcass of a state,540
A rabble ripe to rot, and yield the land
To foreign masters and perpetual shame.’
Said Ingcel, ‘This night’s plunder is my own,
And paid for. I shall take it here and now.
I heed not Lomna’s airy rhetoric;545
But this I say, and mark it, Ferragon:
Let him who would turn craven, if he will,
Take up his stone and go: and take withal
Contempt of valiant men.’
Said Lomna Druth,
‘He is no craven, Ingcel; nor am I.550
His heart misgives him, not because he fears
To match himself in manly feat of arms
With any champion, but because he fears
To do an impious act, as I too fear.’
‘I own it true,’ said Ferragon, ‘my heart555
Is full of anguish and remorseful love
Towards him, my sovereign, who did never wrong,
Save in not meting justice to the full
Against these violators of his law,
Who now repay his clemency with death.’560
‘Call it not clemency,’ said Fergobar:
‘He drove us naked from ancestral homes
To herd with outlaws and with desperate men.’
‘Outlaws we are; and so far desperate,’
Said Ingcel, ‘that we mean to sack this house,565
And for the very reason that he says,
Because the richest jewels, both of men
And gold, the land affords, are gathered there.’
Then Lomna from his mantle took the brooch,
And said, ‘Oh Ingcel, this and whatso else570
Of other plunder fallen to my share
Lies in the ships, I offer. Take it all,
But leave this house unsack’d.’
Said Ferragon,
‘Take also all my share; but spare the king.’
But Ingcel roughly pushed the brooch away,575
And said, ‘Have done. The onset shall be given.’
‘The onset shall be given, unless the earth
Open and swallow us!’ said Fergobar.
‘The onset shall be given, unless the heavens
Fall solid on us!’ answered Ger and Gel.580
‘The onset shall be given!’ replied they all.
Then Lomna,—laying his brooch upon the heap,—
‘Who first returns—but I shall not return—
To take his stone again, take also this;
And, for the rest of what my sword has gained,585
Share it among you. I forgive you all,
And bid you all farewell; for nothing now
Remains for me but death:’ and with the word
He struck his dagger in his heart, and fell.
‘Kings, lords, and men of war,’ said Ferragon,590
‘Comrades till now, the man whose body lies
Before us, though we used to call him fool
Because his heart was softer and his speech
More delicate than ours, I now esteem
Both wise and brave, and noble in his death.595
He spoke me truly, for he knew my heart
Unspoken, when he said ’twas not through fear
Of death I spoke dissuading; but through fear
Of conscience: but your hearts I better knew
Leaving unspoken what was in my own;600
For well indeed I knew how vain it were
To talk of pity, love, or tenderness
To bloody-minded and to desperate men.
Therefore I told you, and I told you true
What loss to reckon of your wretched lives,605
Entering this dragons’ den; but did not tell
The horror and the anguish sharp as death
In my own bosom entering as I knew
The pictured presence of each faithful friend,
And of that sire revered, ye now consign610
To massacre and bloody butchery.
And that ’twas love that swayed me, and not fear,
Take this for proof:’ and drew and slew himself.
‘Comrades and valiant partners,’ Ingcel cried,
‘Stand not to pause to wonder or lament615
These scrupulous companions; rest them well!
But set your spirits to achieve the end
That brought us hither. Now that they are gone
And nothing hinders, are we all agreed
To give this onset bravely and at once?’620
‘I speak for all,’ said Fergobar. ‘Agreed!
Ready we are and willing, and I myself,
Having my proper vows of vengeance,
Will lead you, and be foremost of you all.’
They raised the shout of onset: from his seat625
Leaped Cecht, leaped Cormac, Conall Carnach leaped,
And Duftach from the cauldron drew his spear;
But Conary with countenance serene
Sat on unmoved. ‘We are enough,’ he said,
‘To hold the house, though thrice our number came;630
And little think they, whosoe’er they are,
(Grant, gracious ones of Heaven, it be not they!)
That such a welcome waits them at the hands
Of Erin’s choicest champions. Door-keepers,
Stand to your posts, and strike who enters down!’635
The shout came louder, and at every door
At once all round the house, the shock began
Of charging hosts and battery of blows;
And through the door that fronted Conary’s seat
A man burst headlong, reeling, full of wounds,640
But dropped midway, smote by the club of Cecht.
‘What, thou? oh Fergobar!’ cried Conary;
‘Say, ere thou diest, that thou art alone—
That Ferragon and Lomna whom I love
Are not among you.’
‘King,’ said Fergobar,645
‘I die without the vengeance that I vowed.
Thou never lovedst me: but the love thou gavest
My hapless brothers, well have they returned,
And both lie outside, slain by their own hands
Rather than join in this cause with me.’650
‘The gods between us judge,’ said Conary.
‘Cast not his body forth. I loved him once,
And burial he shall have, when, by and by,
These comrades of his desperate attempt
Are chased away.’
But swiftly answered Cecht,655
‘King, they bring fire without: and, see, the stream
Runs dry before our feet, damm’d off above.’
‘Then, truly, lords,’ said Conary, ‘we may deign
To put our swords to much unworthy use.
Cormac Condlongas, take a troop with thee,660
And chase them from the house; and, strangers, ye
Who rode before me without licence asked;
I see ye be musicians; take your pipes
And sound a royal pibroch, one of you,
Before the chief.’
‘Yea, mighty king,’ said one,665
‘The strain I play ye shall remember long,’
And put the mouthpiece to his lips. At once—
It seemed as earth and sky were sound alone,
And every sound a maddening battle-call,
So spread desire of fight through breast and brain,670
And every arm to feat of combat strung.
Forth went the sallying hosts: the hosts within
Heard the enlarging tumult from their doors
Roll outward; and the clash and clamour heard
Of falling foes before; and, over it,675
The yelling pibroch; but, anon, the din
Grew distant and more distant; and they heard
Instead, at every door new onset loud,
And cry of ‘Fire! Bring fire!’
‘Behoves us make
A champion-circuit of the house at large,’680
Said Conary. ‘Thou, Duftach, who, I see,
Can’st hardly keep the weapon in thy hand
From flying on these caitiffs of itself,
Lead thou, and take two cohorts of the guard,
And let another piper play you on.’685
‘I fear them, these red pipers,’ said the boy.
‘Peace, little Ferflath, thou art but a child,’
Said Duftach. ‘Come, companions (—patience, spear!—),
Blow up the pibroch; warriors, follow me!’
And forth they went, and with them rushed amain690
Senchad and Govnan and the thick-hair’d three
Of Pictland with a shout; and all who heard
Deemed that the spear of Keltar shouted too
The loudest and the fiercest of them all.
So issued Duftach’s band: the hosts within695
Heard the commotion and the hurtling rout
Half round the house, and heard the mingling scream
Of pipes and death-cries far into the night;
But distant and more distant grew the din,
And Duftach came not back: but thronging back700
Came the assailants, and at every door
Joined simultaneous battle once again.
Then Conall Carnach, who, at door and door,
Swift as a shuttle from a weaver’s hand,
Divided help, cried,
‘King, our friends are lost705
Unless another sally succour them!’
‘Take then thy troop,’ said Conary; ‘and thou,
Red-capp’d companion, see thou play a strain
So loud our comrades straying in the dark
May hear and join you.’
‘Evil pipes are theirs.710
Trust not these pipers. I am but a child,’
Said Ferflath; ‘but I know they are not men
Of mankind, and will pipe you all to harm.’
‘Peace, little prince,’ said Conall. ‘Trust in me:
I shall but make one circuit of the house,715
And presently be with thee; come, my men,
Give me the Brierin Conaill, and my spear,
And sound Cuchullin’s onset for the breach.’
And issuing, as a jet of smoke and flame
Bursts from a fresh replenished furnace mouth,720
He and his cohort sallied: they within
Heard the concussion and the spreading shock
Through thick opposing legions overthrown,
As, under hatches, men on shipboard hear
The dashing and the tumbling waves without,725
Half round the house; no more: clamour and scream
Grew fainter in the distance; and the hosts
Gazed on each other with misgiving eyes,
And reckoned who were left: alack, but few!
‘Gods! can it be,’ said Conary, ‘that my chiefs730
Desert me in this peril!’
‘King,’ said Cecht,
‘Escape who will, we here desert thee not.’
‘Oh, never will I think that Conall fled,’
Said Ferflath. ‘He is brave and kind and true,
And promised me he would return again.735
It is these wicked sprites of fairy-land
Who have beguiled the chiefs away from us.’
‘Alack,’ the druid cried; ‘he speaks the truth:
He has the seër’s insight which the gods
Vouchsafe to eyes of childhood. We are lost;740
And for thy fault, O Conary, the gods
Have given us over to the spirits who dwell
Beneath the earth.’
‘Deserted I may be,
Not yet disheartened, nor debased in soul,’
Said Conary. ‘My sons are with me still,745
And thou, my faithful sidesman, and you all
Companions and partakers of my days
Of glory and of power munificent,
I pray the gods forgiveness if in aught,
Weighty or trifling, I have done amiss;750
But here I stand, and will defend my life,
Let come against me power of earth or hell,
All but the gods themselves the righteous ones,
Whom I revere.’
‘My king,’ said Cecht, ‘the knaves
Swarm thick as gnats at every door again.755
Behoves us make a circuit, for ourselves,
Around the house; for so our fortune stands
That we have left us nothing else to choose
But, out of doors, to beat them off, or burn
Within doors; for they fire the house anew.’760
Then uprose kingly Conary himself
And put his helmet on his sacred head,
And took his good sharp weapon in his hand,
And braced himself for battle long disused.
Uprose his three good sons, and doff’d their cloaks765
Of Syrian purple, and assumed their arms
Courageously and princely, and uprose
Huge Cecht at left-hand of the king, and held
His buckler broad in front. From every side,
Thinn’d though they were, guardsman and charioteer,770
Steward and butler, cupbearer and groom,
Thronged into martial file, and forth they went
Right valiantly and royally. The band
They left behind them, drawing freer breath,—
As sheltering shepherds in a cave who hear775
The rattle and the crash of circling thunder,—
Heard the king’s onset and his hearty cheer,
The tumult, and the sounding strokes of Cecht,
Three times go round the house, and every time
Through overthrow of falling enemies,780
And all exulted in the kindling hope
Of victory and rescue, till again
The sallying host returned; all hot they were;
And Conary in the doorway entering last
Exclaimed, ‘A drink, a drink!’ and cast himself785
Panting upon his couch.
‘Ye cupbearers,’
Cried Cecht, ‘be nimble: fetch the king a drink:
Well has he earned this thirst.’ The cupbearers
Ran hither, thither; every vat they tried,
And every vessel—timber, silver, gold,—790
But drink was nowhere found, nor wine nor ale
Nor water. ‘All has gone to quench the fire.
There is not left of liquor in the house
One drop; nor runs there water, since the stream
Was damm’d and turned aside by Ingcel’s men,795
Nearer than Tiprad-Casra; and the way
Thither is long and rugged, and the foe
Swarms thick between.’
‘Who now among you here
Will issue forth, and fetch your king a drink?’
Said Cecht. One answered,
‘Wherefore not thyself?’800
‘My place is here,’ said Cecht, ‘by my king’s side:
His sidesman I.’
‘Good papa Cecht, a drink,
A drink, or I am sped!’ cried Conary.
‘Nay then,’ said Cecht, ‘it never shall be said
My royal master craved a drink in vain,805
And water in a well, and life in me.
Swear ye to stand around him while ye live
And I with but the goblet in one hand,
And this good weapon in the other, will forth
And fetch him drink;—alone, or say, with whom?’810
None answered but the little Ferflath; he
Cried, ‘Take me with thee, papa Cecht, take me!’
Then Cecht took up the boy and set him high
On his left shoulder with the golden cup
Of Conary in his hand; he raised his shield815
High up for the protection of the child,
And forth the great door, as a loosened rock
(Fly ye, foes all, fly ye before the face
Of Cecht, the battle-sidesman of the king!)
That from a hill-side shoots into a brake,820
Went through and through them with a hunter’s bound;
And with another, and another, reached
The outer rim of darkness, past their ken.
Then down he set the lad, and hand in hand,
They ran together till they reached the well825
And filled the cup.
‘My little son, stay here,’
Said Cecht, ‘and I will carry, if I may,
His drink to Conary.’
‘Oh, papa Cecht,
Leave me not here,’ said Ferflath; ‘I shall run
Beside thee, and shall follow in the lane,830
Thou’lt make me through them.’
‘Come then,’ answered Cecht,
‘Bear thou the cup, and see it spill not: come!’
But ere they ran a spear-throw, Ferflath cried,
‘Ah me, I’ve stumbled, and the water’s spilt.’
‘Alas,’ said Cecht, ‘re-fill, and let me bear.’835
But ere they ran another spear-throw, Cecht
Cried, ‘Woe is me; this ground is all too rough
For hope that, running, we shall ever effect
Our errand; and the time is deadly short.’
Again they filled the cup, and through the dawn840
Slow breaking, with impatient careful steps
Held back their course, Cecht in his troubled mind
Revolving how the child might bear his charge
Behind him, when his turn should come for use
Of both his hands to clear and keep that lane;845
When, in the faint light of the growing dawn,
Casting his eyes to seaward, lo, the fleet
Of Ingcel had set sail; and, gazing next
Up the dim slope before him, on the ridge
Between him and Da-Derga’s mansion, saw850
Rise into view a chariot-cavalcade
And Conall Carnach in the foremost car.
Behind him Cormac son of Conor came
And Duftach bearing now a drooping spear,
At head of all their sallying armament.855
Wild, pale, and shame-faced were the looks of all,
As men who doubted did they dream or wake,
Or were they honest to be judged, or base.
‘Cecht, we are late,’ said Conall, ‘we and thou.
He needs no more of drink who rides within.’860
‘Is the king here?’
‘ ’Tis here that was the king.
We found him smothered under heaps of slain
In middle floor.’
‘Thou, Ferflath, take the cup
And hold it to thy father’s lips,’ said Cecht.
The child approached the cup; the dying king865
Felt the soft touch and smiled, and drew a sigh;
And, as they raised him in the chariot, died.
‘A gentle and a generous king is gone,’
Said Cecht, and wept. ‘I take to witness all
Here present, that I did not leave his side870
But by his own command. But how came ye,
Choice men and champions of the warlike North,
Tutors of old and samplars to our youth
In loyalty and duty, how came ye
To leave your lawful king alone to die?’875
‘Cecht,’ answered Conall, ‘and thou, Ferflath,
know,—
For these be things concern both old and young—
We live not of ourselves. The heavenly Gods
Who give to every man his share of life
Here in this sphere of objects visible880
And things prehensible by hands of men,
Though good and just they are, are not themselves
The only unseen beings of the world.
Spirits there are around us in the air
And elvish creatures of the earth, now seen,885
Now vanishing from sight; and we of these
(But whether with, or whether without the will
Of the just Gods I know not) have to-night
By strong enchantments and prevailing spells,—
Though mean the agents and contemptible,—890
Been fooled and baffled in a darkling maze
And kept abroad despite our better selves,
From succour of our king. We were enough
To have brushed them off as flies; and while we made
Our sallies through them, bursting from the doors,895
We quelled them flat: but when these wicked sprites,—
For now I know, men of the Sidhs they were—
Who played their pipes before us, led us on
Into the outer margin of the night,
No man amongst us all could stay himself,900
Or keep from following; and they kept us there,
As men who walk asleep, in drowsy trance
Listening a sweet pernicious melody,
And following after in an idle round
Till all was finished, and the plunderers gone.905
Haply they hear me, and the words I speak
May bring their malice also upon me
As late it fell on Conary. Yet, now
The spell is off me, and I see the sun,
By all my nation’s swearing-Gods I swear910
I do defy them; and appeal to you
Beings of goodness perfect, and to Thee,
Great unknown Being who hast made them all,
Take Ye compassion on the race of men;
And for this slavery of gaysh and sidh915
Send down some emanation of Yourselves
To rule and comfort us! And I have heard
There come the tidings yet may make us glad
Of such a One new born, or soon to be.
Now, mount beside me, that with solemn rites920
We give the king, at Tara, burial.’
Sir Samuel Ferguson, 1810-86.
[1] gaysh] ritual ordinance or prohibition.
[2] Sidhs] faeries.
[3] lann] spear.
