Chapter III: Canto THE SECOND

O noble Alba, Scotia later named,
Then when the race of Scota and her Lord
O’er all thy holy isles and highlands famed
Had raised the Gaelic harp, the Gaelic sword,
And Kenneth, Pictish rule extinguished, reared
That throne of kings for centuries revered!

Great land of Alba! in that hour supreme
Conqueror, not conquered, wert thou! Thy great heart,
Flinging from off it, like a nightmare dream,
A sway ignobler, chose the better part,
Throning the lofty spirit in lofty place:
It brought thee bliss and bale, but nothing base!

When, centuries earlier, stood on Alba’s coast
Usnach’s brave sons, her king received them well:
Treaty they made: they joined to his their host,
And taught him soon the insurgent tribes to quell,
Yet still they loved him not: ‘His soul is mean,’
They said; ‘by him shall Deirdré ne’er be seen.’

Yet near his court they dwelt; and once it chanced
A palace churl while o’er the forest boughs
New leaved, the earliest beam of morning glanced,
Made way, with missives sent, to Naisi’s house,
And on by dusky doors, though timorous, crept,
And found at last that room where Naisi slept.

Before its stony threshold slumbering lay
Ainli and Ardan, clasping, each, a sword,
For ever wont were these by night and day
Their brother and their sister thus to ward:
The intruder o’er them stepp’d and entrance made
To where in sleep that princely pair were laid.

Between them stretched from pillow on to pillow
The massive trail of Deirdré’s luminous hair,
Like gold-touched tendrils of a budded willow
Breeze-blown against the dawn. Already there
The greedy, youngling sunrise made his feast,
Though still in cloud half muffled was the east.

Longer that churl had stood save that in sleep
Growled the great wolf-hound couched beside the bed:
The traitor turned; and, skilled to crawl and creep,
Reached the half open gates, and homeward fled,
And found the king new-risen, and nodding spake,
‘Rejoice, great monarch, for thy kingdom’s sake!

‘Till now thou hast not found a woman meet
In all thy land the royal throne to share;
Behold, the loveliest lady and most sweet
Of all the earth is near, and thou not ’ware!
Compared with her the rest are sheep and kine--
Bid Naisi die! his consort crown as thine!’

Then told the man his tale from first to last
With added circumstance. The Pict replied
Well pleased, albeit at Naisi’s name aghast,
‘To slay that chief were hard; to snare his bride
Were sweet. In secret traffic with her! Say,
She must be first my love; my queen one day!’

Forth sped the accursed one on his mission foul,
And came on Deirdré singing all alone,
And took his stand, ill visaged as a Ghoul,
And named the terms, base love and future throne:
And she with darkening eyes no word replied
Save this alone; ‘Till I return, abide!’

Swiftly she walked: she came where stood the Three;
Then from her white lips rushed her wrong like flame;
‘Dishonoured wife!’ she cried, ‘with me, with me,
Though not the treason, lives for aye the shame!
Ah, surely never wife such scorn has known
Unless the fault was first in part her own!’

But Naisi smiled, forth issuing with his brand,
And said but this; ‘Abide till I return;’
And soon, that head ill-omened in his hand,
Came back with countenance bright, at once and stern:
Then Deirdré spake, ‘My hand had borne that freight
If thine had spared it! At the bad king’s gate

‘Lay first that head, and march we hence this night!’
The Brothers answered; ‘No! nor yet three days!’
Three days in pride they paced a neighbouring height:
Three days the Pict, thus challenged, stood at gaze,
And ofttimes grimly turned from lord to lord:
They answered nought; nor any raised his sword.

But when the fourth dawn o’er the forest soaring
Sent through the heavens divergent beams of splendour,
Upon the earth glory and gladness pouring,
That host arose; nor took they farewell tender:
Three stones the clansman, each, above his head
Flung backward far in scorn: then forth they sped.

And, lest the sun should dazzle Deirdré’s eyes,
Westward that morn their pilgrimage began:
First, under standards bright with myriad dyes,
A hundred Usnach warriors led the van:
Maids next: then clansmen, holding, each, a hound
That strained against the leash with bark and bound.

Ere long their march was through the misty highlands:
They tracked Glenorchy’s immemorial woods;
Loch Lomond’s bosky mountain-skirts and islands;
Birch-braided Katrine’s sylvan solitudes;
And where on shores of Fyne, now low now higher,
With punctual tide the salt sea floods respire.

Meantime the natives of those lonely regions
Came fiercely forth from many a distant shore
Though worsted oft, in ever thickening legions,
Till now the foray swelled into the war;
And still there flocked from Uladh’s coast in swarms
Her noblest youth, their great one’s mates in arms.

For still, beside the spring her pitcher watching,
The maid would sing of Naisi’s strength and fleetness,
Ofttimes in turn on breeze of evening catching
Some shepherd’s song of Deirdré’s truth and sweetness:
And still they ended, each; ‘Ill deed, King Conor,
That banished such! Alas, the land’s dishonour!’

With varying fortune long time raged the feud:
Clan Usnach triumphed now: anon the foe:
And oft, a swordless warrior mild of mood,
Amid those Three was Deirdré seen: and lo!
Still, as the radiance bickers round the gem,
So flashed the battle’s flame round her and them.

Thus lived they prosperous mid that storm of war,
In victory glad, not downcast in defeat:
Three winter months when fortune pressed them sore
Within a western isle they made retreat,
The nearest of those rock-bound Hebrides
Set mid the crystal splendour of the seas.

With Spring-tide back returned they. Victory’s sun
Full-orbed that April on their banners played:
A third part of the realm their valour won:
Last, with the Picts alliance firm they made,
And making kept. All things thenceforth went well;
And gladsome were their sports on field and fell.

It was that season when the spirit of joy
Runs million-footed forth through earth and air;
When the hale shepherd grows once more the boy;
The girl-like youth is prompt to do and dare;
When womanhood looks softer than its wont;
The star shines whiter on the infant’s front.

It was that season when the maiden’s heart,
Though guarded, faster beats against its bound;
When Love’s long hidden fount, by happier art
Divined, is nearer to the surface found:
When to the faded cheek returns its bloom;
And tears less bitter stain the flower-decked tomb.

It was that season when on fields late dreary
Thickest at dawn the awakened daisy throngeth;
When in the dim sweet gloaming, never weary,
Latest her song the darkling thrush prolongeth;
And pillow-spurning children fret for morn,
Fresh flowers, new leaves, and ecstacies re-born.

Ah then to Naisi, and to Deirdré then
Like fire the gladness of the spring-tide came:
That causeway old they seemed to tread again,
Sang the same song! Love’s wild, yet vestal flame
Caught them once more as on that first of May;
And three glad wedded years became a day.

Then, dawn by dawn, ere yet the low-tongued wind
From unreluctant buds their sweets was wooing,
While earliest shafts through ragged fissures blind
Of cloud forth flashed, the flying night pursuing,
Those brothers and that sister clomb the crag
And blew the horn, and roused the antlered stag.

O joy his course through woodland gulfs to follow,
Deirdré and they, to Etive’s salt sea lake!
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 rear

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!

And O, to hear in woods the loud hounds baying,
Or plunge of floods adown some hoarse ravine!
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!

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.

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!

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!

‘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!’

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.
Love’s ‘stormy southwind’ three glad years had blown:
Then Fate, that rules the nations, claimed her own.

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;

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

‘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? Or are all things well?’
And they made answer; ‘All things right we find,
Nor aught deficient. King, we speak our mind!’

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;

‘A loss to Uladh, and to me the most,
Lacking our bravest.’ 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.’

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.

‘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. I these three will test,
And learn by proof which loves King Conor best.’

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?’
And Conal answered; ‘Deaths of many men!

‘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.’ With a laugh
King Conor fillip’d Conal’s cheek, and said,
‘Fool! that canst never understand a jest!
Go hence! It is not thou that lov’st me best!’

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?’
Cuchullain answered; ‘Deaths of many men!

‘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!’
Then Conor frowned:--‘What night-mare loads thy breast?
Hence, for thou know’st me not; nor lov’st me best!’

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:

‘King, thou, and I, and Usnach’s sons must die--
What matters when, if spotless our good name?
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!’

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

‘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.

‘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.

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!
If from thy board he turns he stands forsworn,
By Geisa bound[14] no good man’s feast to scorn.

‘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.’
The courtier smiled, and bowed, ‘I hear, and heed:’
And Conor thus; ‘True friend is friend at need!’

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. By swift winds blown
They rushed above the waves a day and night;
At dawn Loch Etive’s mountains loomed in sight.

Ere noon he landed on the Alban coast:
Wild from the woods a stag there issued bounding;
The prince his mission grave forgat, and tossed
Through the green-caverned forest loud-resounding,
As he was ever wont, his hunting cry;
And lo! the tents where Naisi dwelt were nigh.

Deirdré and he were playing chess together:[15]
Their bent heads well nigh met above the board;
While sunny gleams of that unclouded weather
Glancing through boughs the chequered ivory scored.
Her brow was bright with thought; her hand, raised high,
Above its destined prize hung hoveringly.

The cry of Fergus reached them. Naisi spake;
‘Erin! A son of Erin breathed that shout!’
Deirdré replied; ‘Not so! On Etive’s lake
Some fisher boasts a spoil, or chieftain’s scout
Welcomes his fellows far away. Play on!’
She laughed; but from her cheek the rose was gone.

Once more abroad the cry of Fergus pealed;
And Naisi cried: ‘Our Erin nursed that voice!’
Then Deirdré: ‘Nay, but from some rock-girt field
Loud-voiced the shepherd bids his mates rejoice:
Some boar is slain, or wolf that vexed the land;
Play on!’ And on her heart she pressed her hand.

But when a third time rang that shout, now nearer,
The three brave brothers recognised the sound,
And, listening, larger grew their eyes, and clearer,
And from their seats they leaped, and gazed around,
And smote their palms, and clamoured, ‘O the joy!
Fergus is come! Our Fergus! Fergus Roy!’

Then Naisi sent the twain abroad to meet him;
But Deirdré said, ‘I knew that earliest cry!
Woe to the man, and them this hour who greet him!
This day the bolt is launched from yonder sky:
This day the Destiny foretold beginneth:
Woe to the Three! Worst woe to him who sinneth!

‘All night I saw three birds from Erin’s peaks
To Alba strain through tempest and eclipse:
Three honey-drops they wafted on their beaks:--
O Love! they dropped that sweetness on thy lips;
Ere long each death-black beak, and crownèd head
With life-blood from thy heart, O Love, was red!’

She rose: on visions dread she seemed to stare!
She stood: she pressed her hands upon her eyes:
From the wan brows the horror-stricken hair
Bickering like meteors rose, or seemed to rise;
She towered aloft a prophetess; till, near,
The step well known of Fergus smote their ear.

She whispered low: ‘Trample the honeyed lure!
Make not with Conor! He would have thy blood!’
A moment more, and, entering from the moor,
Fergus, that royal presence, by them stood:
The cloud fell from her! Basking like blue sky
She met her husband’s guest full lovingly.

There stood they, Fergus loftiest by the head,
His sons beside him, stalwart men, and tall,
Illan the Fair, Buini the Ruthless Red:
Reverent and sweet she kissed them, each and all,
She and the Brothers: next they made demand
Of news the latest from their native land.

Swift came the answer; ‘Friends, the news is this;
The king repents him of the ignoble deed
That cost his realm her bravest; zealous is
To quench that deed, and cancel; hath decreed
That you and yours, henceforth and evermore
Shall live secure on Erin’s sacred shore:

‘Likewise of this, a kingdom’s oath and pledge,
I stand myself, surety and guarantee:
Conor in turn, to dull past injury’s edge
Demands, implores a single vow from thee,
That till beside his board thou breakest bread
No meaner house than his shall roof thy head.’

Then Naisi and the brethren rose in joy;
But Deirdré came before them speaking thus,
‘King--for, except the race and stock of Roy,
O’er Uladh kings may reign, but not o’er us--
The eagle lives not save in large domain:
My husband won this land, and here must reign!

‘King Conor caught and caged me, yet a child;
King Conor into exile drave these Three;
The growing greatness of that race exiled
This day he fears; and calls them back: but we
Desire a healthier breeze than makes resort
Within the perfumed precinct of a court.’

‘Lady, you doubt the safety of your Lord!--
“Must reign!” I reign no more; not less my name
Would move in might before him like a sword
Though all the hosts of Erin ’gainst him came!’
A red spot stood on Fergus’ crownless brow;
The Three looked up; and spake: ‘We go, and now!’

Then Deirdré inly said; ‘We go to die:’
Death-pale she stood, yet spake no further word;
Their promise pledged, albeit unwittingly,
The worst that might befall them she preferred
To treason’s semblance and a vow forsworn:
She spread the feast; westward they sailed ere morn.

And ever as the wine-dark seas they clave
The sons of Usnach stood upon the prow
And spread their arms to Erin o’er the wave;
And each to each exclaimed; ‘To guide the plough
Or break the clod, still breathing Erin’s air,
Were better than to rule and reign elsewhere!’

But Deirdré stood upon the vessel’s stern,
Alone, with eyes on Alba’s headlands bent,
Dreaming the hills she could no more discern,
And as they faded thus she made lament,
‘O Land, our home no more, to me and mine
Gentle thou wert; therefore my heart is thine!

‘O beauteous Land, oft on thy heathery bed,
Wearied with chase, upon my sleepless heart
My Naisi laid at noon his sleeping head;
And therefore thine I am; and dear thou art.
I came to thee with Naisi hand in hand,
But now no more I see thee, beauteous Land!

‘O Coona! mid thy maiden buds the thrush
Sang well in spring! In thee the autumnal berry
Sent forth its flash from reddening brake and bush
Like scoff from hard old lip of beldam merry!
We laughed to mark it, while far off we heard
Ainli with Ardan sing as bird with bird.

‘Glenorchy, O Glenorchy! sweet in thee
To hear the cuckoo’s note, that glad new-comer;
And sweet o’er Masan’s sands to watch the sea
Sleep on unwakened half the long, blue summer!
Thou gav’st us, O thou Erin of the East!
The song, the chase, the battle, and the feast!

‘Loch Etive, O Loch Etive! near thy shore,
Lulled by thy waters pure, and airs heart-healing,
Latest we lived, who live there now no more;
Earliest in thee we raised our little shieling:--
Good things the sons of Usnach gat from thee,
And I, the ill-omened sister of the Three!’

Thus in her song honouring the land she loved
Sad Deirdré stood while back the waters hoar
Streamed from the ship; and singing never moved:
From her chilled lip the wind its music bore,
Till plainly Erin’s cliffs at last shone forth,
And Barach’s castle facing to the North.

Then Barach, as that fated bark drew near,
With courteous seeming but a purpose fell
Sailed forth to meet it, making goodly cheer
With bannered boat and tossing coracle
So densely clustered that the billow green
Betwixt them scarcely showed its sparkling sheen.

Ere long the exiles leaped on Erin’s strand:
The courtier followed fast: with loud-voiced glee
He bade them welcome to their native land,
And kissed the hands of each full reverently,
Deirdré’s the last; and said; ‘Your home is here!
Abide a week, and after that a year!’

But when the Brothers told him of their oath
In no man’s house to eat, or rest their head,
Howe’er to slight a friendly welcome loth,
Until with Conor they had broken bread,
He turned to Fergus;--‘Oath thou too hast sworn
Long since, to pass no friendly feast in scorn.

‘Behold, for thee this day my board is decked;
My dish is garnished; and my fatlings slain:
Likewise to greet thee many a chief elect
Hath sped this day from distant vale and plain:
If vain their zeal, and all that loyal haste
To greet my guest, I stand henceforth disgraced.’

Him Fergus heard, and stood in anguish mute,
His giant bulk bowed by his spirit’s pain
That ever downward worked from scalp to foot:
Like stag whom serpent folds begin to strain
He stood--that strives in vain that coil to break--
And flame was on his face while thus he spake;

‘Ill done, ill done, O Barach, is thy deed!
Ill-timed, ill-omened, and unblest thy feast’--
Then Barach; ‘Let those Three to Conor speed;
The king is greatest here, and I the least:
But thou--thine oath that later pledge foreran:
If broke, it lays thine honour under ban.’

Still Fergus mused;--‘’Tis true: that oath I made;
Made ere an upstart’s craft had filched my crown:
To break it were my greatness to degrade,
To blot a princely birth, a life’s renown:
Uladh would cry; “He shames the blood of Roy
To ’scape the frown of Nessa’s ill-crowned boy!”’

Doubt bred new doubt:--away the False One strode;
But Fergus still mused on, and never stirred,
His royal head depressed and neck embowed;
At last he turned to Naisi with this word,
‘What must I do?’ But ere her lord replied,
Deirdré spake first, with queenly port and pride:

‘The choice is thine, not his; and this that choice;
For a feast’s sake to cast from thee thy charge,
Subject and servile to a courtier’s voice;
Or spurn that feast, and walk, a soul at large.’
And Fergus said; ‘My sons with thine and thee
Might ride. I bind on them my guarantee.’

Low-toned he spake; but Naisi heard, and thus
Made answer, reddening like a rising moon,
‘We scorn their aid! Our swords suffice for us!
All help beside we count a worthless boon!’
Then Fergus frowned: At once from doubt released
With them he sent his sons, and joined the feast.

------------------------------------------------------------------------