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LONDON : JOHH LAML. PODLCY HEAD
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Copyri_g;hted in the United States.
All rights reserved.
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TO MY DEAREST MOTHER,
CAROLINE AUGUSTA HOPPER,
THIS LITTLE BOOK IS DEDICATED
BY HER LOVING DAUGHTER.
CONTENTS.
The King of Ireland's Daughter
I'AOB
3
The Sorrow of Manannan
7
April in Ireland
21
The Three Brigits ...
25
Silk of the Kine ... ...
35
Cuchullin's Belt
39
A Connaught Lament
51
The Lamp of Brighid
Ros Geal Dhu
55
63
Crioch Agus Amen
67
The Wind Among the Reeds
79
Boholaun and I
83
The Fairy Fiddler
91
Daluan
93
Una of the West
107
Soul of Maurice Dwyer
III
Kasdr
121
The Gifts of Aodh and Una
125
Lament of the Lay Brother
147
The Four Kings
151
Lament of the Last Leprechaun
163
Aonan-na-Righ
167
Glossary
181
The King of Ireland's Daughter.
The King of Ireland's Daughter.
Gray sails sailing west over gray water^
Gold rings and gold crown for the King o' Ireland's daughter.
Dark rose^ dark rose^ in the garden bloomings
Break sheath and blow^ rose ! gray sails arc coming.
IVhy in thy long sleep ringest thou^ O spear ?
Silk we wear instead of steel now gray sails are here.
Don your steel and take the spear : lay the silk aside^
Lo ! beneath the sails o' gray sits a low-born bride.
Dark rose^ dark rose^ in the garden blowing^
Die^for thou hast bloomed in vain : gray sails are going.
Gray sails going east over gray water^
Broken trothj broken heart, for the King o Ireland's daughter.
The Sorrow of Manannan.
THE SORROW OF MANANNAN,
There were three great sorrows in Eire once
in the days that are buried deep beneath the
stones of forgetfulness : and mighty sorrows
were these, and men and maidens wept for
them : but my tale is of a sorrow older yet,
and yet that is not wept for : and its name
is the Sorrow of Manannan.
* They made feast together in the highest
hall of Tara : Etersc^l, the King, gray with
many victories : Conall Collamair, his son : and
the Ard Righ of Eire, who had that day plighted
troth to Conall's only daughter, Tuag of the
Yellow Hair. There was ringing of harps and
tympans, and the sound of a voice singing;' of
old battles, and great deeds done by the King
Eterscel, and the High King Feargus, and
Conall, their kinsman, and Cu, King of the
Clan Colla, who sat at the left hand of Feargus
the Ard- Righ, as he might by right of his
name, while all other kings sat removed, the
nearest a sword's length from him.
Many songs the minstrel sang: of the
men that feasted and the men that slept their
sleep : and when Hugh Ball's fingers faltered
on the harp-strings, young Colg arose in his
place and sang a dream-song that darkened
the light of battle in the eyes of his hearers,
and paled the flush of batde in their sun-burnt
faces. But in the chamber where the Princess
sat watching her women comb out the fleece,
one maid stopped singing of battles, and holding
her silent harp against her breast chanted a
whispered song, with her gray-green eyes fixed
on her mistress's face. And this was the fashion
of her song :
" Sorrow has touched me on the heart,
And will not let me be :
One woman only stands apart
From pain that holds the very heart of me :
Yet, Princess, there is borne to-day for thee
A sorrow : and the sorrow of Manannan.
And dost thou go, my Queen, unwooed, to wed ?
Or wilt thou rise and follow after me,
Past graves of women dead.
Whither the Undying Women sail the sea ?
Shall gold bespread, or all of amber be
The bridal-bed for thee ?
Thy gift, thy father's wrath ? or days that dree
The sorrow and the sorrow of Manannan ? "
8
The skein of shining wool slipped from
the lady Tuag's idle fingers, and she stood up
slowly, tallest among her maids, and strong
and supple of limb as were few women of Eire.
Then the singer also arose from her stool, and
she too was beyond the common strength and
stature of women, as she stood shoulder to
shoulder with the princess.
•' Shall we go ? " she said.
And Tuag said, "We will go." She
looked round the torch-lit chamber as one that
takes farewell, and she looked at the waiting
women combing their fleece in a dream that
kept theiii deaf and blind. And the woman
that had sung of Manannan took up a cloak
woven of fine white wool and cast it over Tuag,
hiding her long blue gown, and the hood she
drew over Tuag's head, crushing the green
leaves that were in her fillet ; and they went
forth hand in hand past kinsfolk that stayed
them not, past hounds that heard them not,
though their garments brushed their feet.
They went through the camp unseen and
unheard : past the fences of watdes, beyond
byres where the sleeping kine took no heed of
them, where the neatherds ceased not from tale-
telling at the sound of their soft footsteps.
Then they were in the uncleared woodlands,
and the Princess clung trembling to her com-
rade's arm, but only for a moment. For she
that upheld her lifted her voice in a wordless
song, and sent it pealing into the woods from
tree to tree, until it seemed to the Princess that
birch and beech and plane cried shame on
Conall's daughter for fearing any created thing,
and that oak and pine called on her to come,
and to come swiftly.
" Let us go," she said : and they walked
on under beeches and pines, over last year's
leaves and this year's pushing grass, while the
bats whirred and cried about them, and the
moths woke and brushed their faces with soft
ghostly wings.
" I have never walked so fast or so far,"
said the Princess at last. " Let us tarry and
rest : art thou not also footsore, girl, or are thy
feet as unwearied as thine arm is strong ?"
" Lady, do not rest there — not beneath
the quicken. It is an evil resting-place for thy
father's daughter,"
" How so ? " said Tuag, " if I bring a clean
heart and clean hands to its shade ? "
Then she stopped, and stood dumb in the
quicken shade ; for the sleep spell was shed
now from her eyes, and she saw her companion
throw off the woman's robe that now was no
disguise, and stand up, a goodly man and
gallant, in his tunic of the gentle colour.
10 ;
1
" So," she said, in wrath, " it was easy to
deceive the woman who took thee in and fed
and sheltered thee, because thou saidst thou
wast only child of my mother's foster-brother.
But here it will be ill for thee to lie— in hearingr
of the quicken. Give me thy name, that I may
know upon whom my father must revenge me.
Give me thy name."
" Nay : but I did not lie in all, Tuag.
For indeed I am of thy mother's kin, and
shortly shall I be knit to thee in even closer
kinship, for I am foster-son of the man thou
p-oest to wed to-niaht."
" Never will I be of closer kin to thee,
O false speaker," Tuag said. " Is it Manannan
Mac Lir who desires me ? Let him take me,
then, but from the sea, and not from thy hand?,
thou liar."
" These be hard words," Manannan's foster-
son said, quietly, "Yet will I bring thee safely
and with honour to my lord, O Lady of Tara."
" Without my honour thou wouldst bring
me only to my grave, O Fer Fi," said the
Princess, " Be warned also that I carry a skene
in my belt, and what slew Conaire the Black
may even drink the blood of a warlock and a
princess in one night."
"Thou may'st use thy skene at thy pleasure,
daughter of Conall," Fer Fi said, as he drew
II
his own knife from his belt and threw it on
the grass at her feet. "And here is mine own,
also at thy service, so that I stand unarmed,
warlock thouorh thou callest me. And now is
it thy pleasure to go back ? back to wed with
the Ard-Righ ? For I put the sleep-spell on
thy women, and on the sentinels, and all think
thee still in thy chamber. Shall we go back,
Mistress ? or forward to Manannan ?"
"There is no going back for me," Tuag
said, with a steady voice. " Dear is Tara, and
dear is my shut bower, and dear are Una, and
Muirgeis and Sinead that comb the fleece,
and Gormshuil that robed me for every feast
in my father's father's hall. Dear are the
dark eyes of my father, and the gray locks
of Eterscel, and dearer are the stones of my
mother's grave. And dear are the camp-fires
every one, yet I turn nightwards and seawards.
Go on, Fer Fi ! Manannan has called me, and
I cannot help but come, although I see Tara
no more."
"The sea is not far hence," Fer Fi
answered her, gently. " But there is rough
walking to come, for we are at the edge of
the wood : and if I may hold thy hand perhaps
I may lighten the way for thee." But the
Princess shook her head, looking at him with
grave eyes, and folded her arms on her breast.
12
"Go first, Messer," she said, "my help is in
myself henceforward." So Fer Fi bowed his
head before her, and went first, and as he went
he made a song on the rough path that took
them seawards.
" Sharp stones we tread as we descend,
Sharp stones the tender feet that rend :
Yet she, my foe, that was my friend,
Hath sharper words to fling at me,
As we go downwards to the sea
All night that called us wearily."
Then the sharp pebbles gave place to
larger stones, and these to a little stretch of
sand, yellow in the yellow moonlight. And
here Fer Fi stopped short, while Tuag dropped
down on the sand and dabbled her burning
feet in a pool of clear sea-water.
"A little patience, Lady," he said, "and
we shall be in the country of the Ever-Living,
But we must first find a boat, and round the
bend of yon rocks there are huts of fishermen,
and there I shall find a boat and oars belike.
But will the Princess bide here alone ?"
" Why not ?" said Tuag. " Have I not
here thy knife and mine, Fer Fi ? Go hence
and do thine errand, and I will wait for thee.
None will come to the shore at this hour o' the
night — or is it the morn ?"
"It is morn. Princess, but the dawn will
not come for an hour yet."
13
So Fer Fi went with long, quick strides
across the sand, but he came not back as
swiftly. Tuag threw the hood back from her
head, and bound up her long yellow hair, and
shook from her fillet the withered leaves :
then, because the time hung on her hands, she
rose up and began dancing, weaving a wild
measure on the yellow sand as her mother had
taught her long since : and as she danced she
sang in a tongue that had been forgotten by
all save her mother's kindred, for a hundred
years. And as she danced she was aware of
eyes and voices and laughter, and a wave broke
round her ankles, and another, and another.
Then a voice piped in her ear shrilly, "What
wouldst have of us now thou'st called us up ?"
Looking up, she saw a great wave that
gathered itself as high as her breast, and there
were shapes of sea-children in it : and as it
broke against her they clung to her, and cried
in their sweet, cold voices, " Thou has called
us up with thy dancing, O daughter of the
stranger : now what wilt thou have of us ? "
'' Nothing, O sea-people," Tuag said, and
she ceased from dancing, and there was fear
in her eyes as the next wave broke on her
breast, and she saw herself waist-deep in the
sea. Then the sea-children laughed : and one
pointed landwards, and cried, laughing, " See,
14
the current that runs betwixt thee and the
shore, O stranijer : thou hast danced too lone
and too well, and the waves have come to try
who is nimbler and stronger, they or thee."
Then Tuag turned her face shorewards, and
saw that as she had said before, there was in-
deed no .^oing back for her. Now the fear of
death took her by the throat : and she shrieked
to her father and to Eterscel the King. But
a sea-child threw his cold arms round her neck,
and said, softly, in her ear, " Is it so ill to
die then ? and if the waves spared Conall's
daughter would she live for ever ? VVe have
never lived yet : but will not the daughter
of the stranger show us how to die ? " So
Tuag's strength came back as she spoke, and
she drew the cold hands to her bosom and
kissed the wild eyes and the shining hair.
" Keep thy head on my heart, O sea-child,"
she said " and keep the courage there, while
my lips keep their breath." The boy turned
and kissed her on the lips, and Tuag folded
her arms closer round him ; then a wave
caught her hood from her head, and all her
yellow hair fell down, and the sea-children
caught at the long locks and plucked them,
and buffeted her face, and beat her hands with
stinging seaweeds, and smote her breast and
arms with blows that left no mark behind, but
15
burnt like fire. Then the child that lay on her
bosom said : " Take no heed, but abide it, thou
Fair-Hair. For it is their nature to strike and
stinor, and it is the nature of the land-folk to
abide and die and defy them. And, look, the
water is breast-high already : and soon it shall
touch thine eyelids, for this is the flood tide."
Now there was a little space of silence, and
then the sea-folk began their petty torments
again, and the water was up to Tuag's throat.
And now she felt the child's arms heavy round
her neck, and she saw him lift his head from
her breast, and she bent down slowly to give
him the kiss he asked for. As she stooped
the sea-children caught her in their strangling
clasp and dragged her down — and down.
Now when dawn came the fishers saw the
shine of yellow hair far out to sea, and they put
out and brought to shore a drowned woman
with amber and pearls twined in her loose hair,
and a dead child clasped to her bosom. And
as they cam.e ashore with their burden the sea
cast up at their feet the body of a man dressed
in the gentle colour with a dagger thrust through
his heart ; and the hilt of the dagger was of the
wonderful green stone whose like is not in the
round world, and whereof (they say) Manan-
nan's sword was made ; but there was no
wound on the sea-child's body, and him no
i6
waves could drown, wherefore the sennachies
say that because having seen Tuag he loved
her, his life and hers were mingled in death —
and in the Tir na n'Og he and she dwell
together, mother and child. But Manannan
Mac Lir has had no other love and lady; and if
you listen any moonlit night you will hear in
the sea-music the voice of the sorrow of Man-
annan.
17 i>
April in Ireland
April in Ireland.
She hath a woven garland all of the sighing sedge^
And allher Jiowers are snowdrops grown on the winter'' s edge :
The golden lootns ofTir na n'Og wove all the winter through
Her gown of fuist and raindrops shot with a cloudy blue.
Sunlight she holds in one hand^ and rain she scatters after^
And through the rainy tivilight we hear her fitful laughter.
She shakes down on her flowers the snows less white than they.,
Then quickens with her kisses the folded " knots o Ml
J-
She seeks the summer-lover that never shall be hers.,
Fain for gold leaves of autumn she passes by the furze.
Though buried gold it hideth : she scorns her sedgy crotun.
And pressing blindly sunwards she treads her snowdrops doivn.
Her gifts are all a fardel of wayward smiles and tears.,
Yet hope she also holdeth., this daughter of the years —
A hope that blossoms faintly set upon sorrow'' s edge :
She hath a woven garland all of the sighing sedge.
21
The Three Brigits.
THE THREE BRIGITS.
They sat in the uncertain sunshine of a wintry-
day, the three Brigits : Brigit, the Farmer, old
and brown and withered — her daughter, Brigit
of the Judgments, a tall and comely woman
ripened and sweetened by fifty autumns — and
the grand-daughter Brigit, straight and slim as
a rush, with all the beauty of her face folded
and sleeping still.
Now the eldest Brigit sat nodding in her
carved chair, with the sunlight warm on her
blind eyes, but the house-mistress, Brigit of the
Judgments, sat spinning busily, and her daughter
stood in the open air under the blessed thorn,
watching her busy mother, with a smile in her
dreamy eyes. And as she dreamed, there came
a step on the ringing road, and a shadow fell
across the girl's feet — the shadow of a tall
woman with a face kind and sad and beautiful,
who carried a sleeping boy in her arms.
25 E
"The gods save all here !" she said, softly,
" and bless the work ! "
"Come in, and welcome," said Brigit of
the Judgments, heartily. Then she raised her
eyes to the stranger's face, and her own grew
white and strange, as does that face which
looks on something that is not of this world. .
" Who are you ? " she cried.
"My name," said the woman, softly, "is
Kathaleen Ny-Houlahan : and his — " looking
down with a smile in her grey eyes at the lad
in her arms, '* Oh, one may call him Aongus
(Love), or Eireag (Beauty), or Aighneann
(Lover), or Gort (Sourness) ; he has nigh as
many names as he has faces. What will you
call him, Brigit of the Judgments ? "
Brigit of the Judgments turned a hungry
face to meet her guest's clear eyes.
" He is the child I lost long ago," she
muttered, " he is my little Culainn, and he has
his father's eyes — there never was a comelier
lad than my Eoghan : and because his dead
beauty kept the door of my heart I never
kissed the lips of thy father, Brigit, good mate
though he made me. Let me have the child,
daughter of the stranger : he is mine." Katha-
leen Ny-Houlahan smiled. "Told I not that
he was Moran of the many names ? Now,"
turning to the youngest Brigit, " tell me what
26
he seemeth to thee, O little maiden of the
yellow cool ? " And the third Brigit drew
back with a face that blossomed red as the
leaves at a rose's heart.
" I see — " she said, and put back the
yellow hair that the wind blew in her face,
" I see — Oh mother I see what you saw
in Eoghan's face — and now shall I say all
that I see ? I see short joy and long sorrow,
shame and severance and suffering, patience
and pride — and do I not also see that I would
thole the sorrow for the sake of the short joy ?
Oh mother, hold me fast lest I gather the
shame, too."
" I said," quoth Kathaleen Ny-Houlahan,
" that he was Moran of the many names.
Aongus or Aighneann wouldst thou call him,
O little one ? and to thy mother is he her lost
child and her lost husband : and what to me ?
Ah, when last I looked him in the face, I called
him Conasg (War) : for I saw a light in his eyes
that was like the light of swords. And now,
O old mother, rise up and say what thou seest
in his face."
*' I am blind. Lady," muttered Brigit the
Farmer. " I am blind and I cannot see."
"Rise up," said Kathaleen Ny-Houlahan,
as if she had not heard, " and look on him, and
say what thou seest in his face."
27
So the old woman rose and came to her
side, without help of either staff or guiding
hand, and she fixed her blind eyes on the face
asleep on the breast of Kathaleen Ny-Houlahan.
Then to the watching mother and daughter it
seemed that the blind eyes gathered colour and
depth as they gazed : and last, the light that
had left them. And then with a cry the grand-
mother fell back into Brigit of the Judgments'
arms, and women came from the house and
bore her in, and laid her softly on her bed,
seeing that she was stricken with death. And
Brigit of the Judgments wept over the happy
face of her gray mother, and never heeded that
she hindered her soul from passing : and, outside
in the winter sunshine, Kathaleen Ny-Houlahan
waited with her back against the holy white-
thorn. And beside her the youngest Brigit
stood, dreaming, looking past bawn and barn
away to the silvery ribbon of the Boyne running
swiftly away to wooded Brugh where Aongus
Oge was still thought to have his golden house.
And Kathaleen Ny-Houlahan turned her eyes
on the girl's face, and, holding them there, again
she turned back the mantle from the face of
him she bore on her bosom. And softly she
said, "Look!" and Brigit obeyed her. And
as she looked, there came a smile over the
sleeping face, and the smile smote to the girl's
28
heart with sorrow as sharp as a spear : but
Kathaleen's look kept back the tears from her
eyes and the cry from her Hps : and for a Httle
while the twain kept silence. And then Katha-
leen covered the sleeping face, and with that
Brigit's tongue was loosed, and she cried out,
sobbino-, " Oh ! fair he is and dear he is, Dark
Woman, and a while since would I have died
to walk the world with him : and now it seems
to be better to live and die without him — and
that your frowns were dearer than his praising,
Beauty of the World ! "
" I am not she ! " said Kathaleen Ny-
Houlahan. " She passes away, and I can never
die — for even when my own children stone me,
I must rise again, and go on my road. And —
oh ! Flesh of my flesh, but you have stoned
me often!" she cried. "And oh! but how
good it were to feel the shamrocks growing
over me ! "
" But then the world would end, Pulse of
our hearts," said Brigit. "And must you go
on your way again, you and Moran of the
many names ? Will you not stay a little — and
we would serve you well ? "
" It is for me to serve my people," said
Kathaleen. " But I must not stay : for I was
born when the wandering wind met the wan-
dering fire, and the twain are in my blood."
29
"Then take me with you," Brigit cried, "for I
shall never be wife or mother, and what use is
there for me in my mother's house ? Take me
with you, Heart of hearts, and let me wander,
too, till I die."
" Brigfit the Farmer served me well in her
eighty years, and never she served me better
than when she milked her kine in the byres of
Conor the King. And well has Brigit your
mother served me, and all the better for the
loss of her fair Eoghan : and when your father
Senchan sang before Conor MacNessa, he was
serving me, though he knew it not. And now,"
said Kathaleen Ny-Houlahan, "do you also
serve me, Brigit. My daughters dwell in their
father's houses, and see the green lands pass
to the thriftless man and the hard man : and
are they better than hostages even in their
husbands' houses } Go out and cry shame
till this thing cease, my Brigit : till the women
that have no brothers take the wasted lands
and deal gently by them. Cry out — and cry
loudly, though every Brehon in the land say
you nay : Conor MacNessa has ears to hear."
Then she turned and went, and young
Brigit stood alone under the thorn-tree, making
ready for the task laid upon her : and from the
house came the voice of women keening for
the dead, but very softly, lest they should wake
30
the dreadful hounds that He in wait to catch
the naked soul. But they might have shrieked
their shrillest, for the soul of Brigit the Farmer
walked safely in the shadow of Kathaleen
Ny-Houlahan.
31
silk of the Kine.
Silk of the Kine.
Silk of the kine^ do not those great waves grow
Weary of lashing granite shores of thine ^
Shores that decay and death will never know^
Silk of the kineP
Are not thy soft eyes tired of shade and shine ^
And thy kind lips a-weary^ drinking so^
For many years a black and bitter wine ?
Take comfort^ Gra Machree : the years are slow^
Tet bring the day (tho' not for eyes of mine)
IVhen thou shalt rise up crowned above thy foe ^
Silk of the kine !
35
Cuchullin's Belt.
5110
\
CUCHULLIN'S BELT.
Now Cuchullin — the Hound of Murthemney —
the beloved of the D^ Danann o"ods — had a
fair wife and a noble, named Eimer, and he
loved her well : and a fairy mistress he had
also, and when his dreams took him he loved
the Shee lady, Fand, more heartily than, waking,
he had ever loved Eimer, his wife. But waking
or dreaminor, he was the oroodliest man that
ever lived, and the fairest to see : and so thought
many another besides Eimer. Now this Eimer
was a great lady and a noted housewife, and
she kept her maidens busy all day, spinning
and weavingr and combiner so that there was
little rest in her greenan, from the women
working at the top wool and the noil or short
wool, to Eimer herself gathering up the skeins
of finished yarn, and the skeins of fine yellow
silk.
39
" Ye must work more steadily, my women,"
said Eimer, weighing first the silk in her hands,
and then the yarn, "for here is less weight
than yesterday, Ineen of Orgiall, look how thy
web is spoiled."
" Ineen is weaving the web of her own
life," laughed the other women : but Eimer
frowned as she watched the Golden Hostage
send her shuttle through the crooked weft.
Now the Golden Hostage was a tall maiden,
and deep-bosomed, and the naked arms and
throat clasped with the gold chains of Orgiall
hostages, were shapely, although the sun had
changed their white to brown : and the hair of
her hung down to her knee like a black cloud,
and the lips of her were as red as quicken-
berries, and the eyes of her were gray, like
the sea. And, seeing that she was young and
comely to see, the lady Eimer frowned and
darkened, for her heart was as full of jealousy
as ever the heart of Oisin was full of sono- :
yet she herself was a fair woman and a stately,
and not one amono^ her women could match
her feet in the dance or her fingers on the
tympan.
"Be diligent," she said, frowning, "there
is yet an hour of light, and then may ye sit idle
in the greenan,"
"She goeth to meet her husband," whis-
40
pered the women, as she crossed the threshold,
"and he is new from dreams of Tir na n'Og
and of the Woman of the Shee, behke. Ho !
brown girl, how speeds thy weaving now?"
" 1 pray you let me be :" said the Orgiallan^
weaving away, "since half my work is to do."
But the women would not be still : and
their chatter broke out again, like the sound of
a little running stream.
" Ho ! brown girl, dost think thou weavest
Elmer's shroud, that thou weavest so faithfully.-^"
" Or Cuchullin's bridal shirt ? " laughed
another. "There goes her shuttle all at random."
" We heard that thou hadst a lover in
Orgiall, brown girl : and that he was wise in
Druid arts. How came it that he let thee go
to Elmer's house to walk thy feet lame on alien
roads, and to have thy wrists weighed down
with golden fetters.-* How came it so?
" Weave thy best, and our lady will give
thee in marriage to Conall the bard : his second
wife is dead : and he likes well to wed among
the women of Elmer's household."
So they mocked her : Una> Gormshuil,
Orfla, Niam, and Onoir : and they laughed and
chanted mocking rhymes around her, and still
the Orgiallan wove on, and made as if she
heard them not. But presently she left her
web, and went across the greenan to cool her
41 G
hot hands with fresh water, and her comrades
gathered round her work, silent at first. For
in the purple web she had woven figures of
men and women and dogs : and at first the
meaning of the figures took them not, and
when it reached beyond their eyes their know-
ledge kept them silent. For on the web the
Orgiallan had worked a wolf-hound sleeping in
the arms of a woman whose robe was of the
elfin green, and behind the twain there rose a
wild figure that was like the lady Elmer's when
anger shook her beauty from her.
Then said Onoir, " Thou hast courage,
Orgiallan, and if she kills thee for this, I will
lay gesa on my brother to revenge thee."
And Una, "Take up that courage in thine
hands, Hostage, and win out from this house :
for if thou abidest Elmer's coming, surely thy
next need will be for the baked clay urn and
the stone kistvaen."
And " Go ! " said all the rest, with one
voice. " Cover thy saffron gown with yonder
cloak, and thine head with a kerchief, and thou
mayest pass without any knowing that thou art
not Caitlin the herd-woman or More the hen-
wife, for both be of thy height."
" I go not," said the Orgiallan, quietly.
" Fall back, companions, and let our mistress
pass." And she sat down again to her web, and
1 2
waited while the women scattered right and
left before Eimer, as she crossed the greenan,
stately in her garments of blue and saffron, and
looked "on the woven picture of her husband's
beguiling. " Thou hast a pretty wit, O golden
maid," she said, when she had looked her fill,
"and a pretty skill with the shuttle when thou
pleasest. And so thou wert once plighted to a
warlock— ay ? of our own island ? "
"Of Dane-land," Ineen the Hostage an-
swered, gravely.
" It is well," Elmer said, slowly and softly.
" Didst thou love him, brown girl ? as well as
I love Cuchullin ? "
"As well."
" Weave me a magic belt, then : and weave
it cunningly and well, thou Golden Hostage,
and it may be I shall send thee home to thy
lover. Or it may be I shall give thee to the
stones in Carrownamaddoo, the quarter of the
dogs."
" How shall I weave the belt ? "
"Thou knowest, Beauty of the World,"
Eimer said, bitterly. " 'Tis a small thing to
ask of a warlock's mistress." Ineen smiled, as
she drew out a knife from her girdle and cut
off a great lock of her heavy hair,
" I must have gold hair, too," she said.
" Mistress, wilt thou bid Onoir or Orfla give
43
me of their locks ? Nay, but Onoir is too dark.
Ortla's is of the true honey-colour." And then
she went to the weaving again, and it was
midnight before she laid her shuttle down, and
flung over Elmer's arm the finished work of
woven hair, soft and fine and wonderful to look
upon.
"Thy will is done, my mistress," she said,
"and henceforward the magic girdle will keep
far from Cuchullin the dreams that Fand sends,"
The knife lay at her feet now, and Eimer
snatched it and struck for the girl's heart : but
her aim was ill, and yet Ineen had stood still
to take the blow. "Thy lover's Dhouls have
saved thee for to-night," Eimer said, furiously,
" but to-morrow is mine. Go thou and sleep
and gather thy force up for to-morrow : and
hope not to escape, daughter of a witch, for
bower and bawn are guarded by my husband's
men."
And Ineen laughed as she went to her
sleeping-place : but Elmer's eyes were dark
with fear as she held the knife to the torch-
light, for the stain upon it was the stain, not
of blood, but of sea-water. And the next day,
folk sought high and low for Ineen, but found
her not : and they whispered among themselves
that she came and went as she would by means
of black magic, and that belike the tale was
44
true which told that her father Malachi of the
Clan Colla had taken a sea-woman to wife.
But, nevertheless, the next day Cuchullin
wore the masfic grirdle : and Fand visited him
in his dreams no more. And when seven days
had gone by, Eimer heard him moan beside
her in the night, and when she asked what
ailed him, he said, heavily, " I am dream-stolen,
and now my sleep is gone from me, my wife,
and I shall go mad and die. This thing has
been done me by an enemy. Wife, knowest
thou any herb to give me ease } "
" To-morrow I will go out into the fields,"
she said, "and we will snare a nightingale and
lay its heart under thy head as thou liest, and
thus will sleep surely come to thee, if the kind
gods grant that no wind blows."
But the root of Cuchullin's ill lay deeper
yet, and for two more nights he lay and wrestled
hard to hold sleep with him, but with no success :
and on the third morning he rose up, with a
darkness in his eyes and a noise in his ears
that held him from knowing Eimer when she
clunof to him and strove to hold him back. But
she did not loose the girdle, for her fear lest
he should dream of Fand was greater than her
fear for Cuchullin. And for a day and a night
Cuchullin went seawards, smiting boughs and
tree-stems as he went, in his madness, and
45
presently he stood upon the sands and fought
with the sea, striking the subsiding waters now
with his sword, and now with his bare hands.
And as the tide turned, there leapt to his side a
woman with black hair lifting in the wind, and
strand by strand she tore from him the girdle
of woman's hair, and as the last lock tore
apart, the madness departed from Cuchullin
and he slept. And Ineen sat beside him on
the sand, holding his head on her knees : and
presently he awoke in midmost of a dream of
the Fairy woman, hearing a voice sobbing in
his ears.
" I wove the belt to thine undoing, and
I broke the belt to thine undoing. And mine
own people come against thee for the blows
thy madness struck. Rise, lord, and fight for
thy life, and let thy dreams be. Bite, Hound :
for thy chain is snapped." And Cuchullin started
up, and saw wave after wave coming a-land,
full of threatening faces and shaken spears, and
he took his sword from Ineen's hands, and made
ready to fight the sea. And, fighting blindly
with the sea-folk, he felt presently the grip of
many hands upon him, and he was dragged to
his knees, and he heard voices mocking him.
"Where is thy strength, O great champion.'*
Gone with the belt that kept thy dreams aloof.'*
Yield thee, then, Cu , and let the Hound be
46
taken In leash to his kennel. Thanks, Ineen
Dhu, for the broken girdle."
" But the girdle is here," Ineen cried : and
Cuchullin felt her arms clasped about his body.
" Give back, O sea-people : what girdle is so
strong as a girdle of flesh and blood ? "
"The other girdle," shrilled the sea-people
back. "The girdle of dead hands, O Ineen:
and that he cannot win. Give back and let us
drown him."
Cuchullin's dreams swept round him now :
but in spite of them he knew that the waves
were breaking against his breast, and that
Ineen's arms were tig^hteninor about him : and
twixt sleep and waking he looked down at her
as she clung to him, and listened, wondering,
to the stream of song that poured from her
open lips. And with the last word of her song
there rose a lono- shriek of sorrow from the
sea-people, and a wave lifted Cuchullin and
Ineen, and brought them gently to shore. And
when next Cuchullin woke from his dreams he
found that Ineen still held him fast, though she
was dead and cold : and with some difficulty he
loosed her hands from him, and dug with his
sword a grave for her in the sand, and there
he laid her sorrowfully, praying Angus, the
Master of Love, to keep her soul in his Golden
House, and Manannan Mac Lir to hold hisv/aves
47
aloof from her sleeping-place. And when he
visited the place with Eimer after a year and
a day, they found that the sea had fallen back
for half a league, and that the place where
the sea-girl slept was a broad space of grass,
and in the midst of the grass rose white
spikes of meadowsweet, the flower which for
the sake of a forgotten love and a forgotten
sacrifice is called of us to-day Crios Chu-chulainn
(Cuchullin's Belt).
48
A Connaught
Lament.
H
I
A Connaught Lament.
/ will arise and go hence to the west^
And dig me a grave where the hill-winds call ;
But O were I dead, were I dust, the fall
Of my own love's footstep would break my rest !
My heart in my bosom is black as a sloe !
I heed not cuckoo, nor wren, nor swallow :
Like a flying leaf in the skfs blue hollow
The heart in my breast is, that beats so low.
Because of the words your lips have spoken,
(O dear black head that I must not follow)
My heart is a grave that is stripped and hollow.
As ice on the water my heart is broken.
lips forgetful and kindness fickle.
The swallow goes south with you : I go west
Where fields are empty and scythes at rest.
1 am the poppy and you the sickle ;
My heart is broken within my breast.
SI
The Lamp of Brighid.
THE LAMP OF BRIGHID.
Fever and famine were in the country of
Tirconnell, and betwixt these two fires the
people forgot the gods : women turning their
faces to the wall, and dying with never a prayer,
while men held up accusing hands to the blank
blue skies, and cursed Kasar among the gods
of the Fomoroh, and Luo- and Dasfde of the
De Dananns. Even the Shee were neglected,
and everywhere the Vanitha (mistress of the
house) forgot to scatter crumbs and spill drops
of milk upon her threshold for Dark Joan and
Oonah and Cleena and Donn of the Sandhills :
and the little People went hungry past the
closed doors at twilight, while within the
famished human things made short work of
the thin milk and the poor bread. At last even
the lights in the great House of Brighid went
out one by one as, one by one, the holy women
died of hunger or plague, till at last there was
55
left alight only one of all the gold and silver
lamps, and just as this one lamp had been
refilled and lio-hted before the oreat carved
image of Brighid, sitting with a huge golden
book open on her knees — just as the scented
oil gave out its odour of pine — the last recluse
dropped her oil-cruse and fell dead at the feet
of the holy statue. Some good women, coming
to do hopeless worship to holy Brighid, found
her lying there, and having done the last kind
offices for her, and laid her with hurried prayers
in the common grave of her sisters, went back
to their hungry homes, leaving the door of the
shrine wide open. Presently there came two
small figures timidly across the threshold, and
so into the deserted holy place — a boy and girl
dressed in mere raq-s for all the cold March
wind that whistled outside, twin children whose
dead mother had mocked at holy Brighid
a-dying, and whose living father would have
torn down her very shrine if his hands had
been as strong as his hatred.
" Breed," said the boy, lifting his gentle
blind eyes from the ground, " where's the wind
that I feel blowing ? "
"It comes from the open door," Breed
answered hurriedly, *' and never a stir will it
stir for all my pushing — bad cess to it for a
stubborn door ! And the blessed lamp will be
56
blown out altogether, Maurice, unless we can do
something to save it."
" There's the lamp at home," Maurice said
slowly, " and it's full of oil, Breed. You might
run and fetch it here, machree, and light it
from the blessed lamp yonder. I'll wait till
you come."
" Will you ? It's lonely here," little Breed
said, warningly. " 'Tis a mile home and a mile
back, and the hunger makes me run slower
than I used."
" Set me close to the holy lady Brighid,"
Maurice McCaura said, smiling, " where I can
touch her with my hands : and then ye can go,
Breed ; I'll be safe enough in Brighid's own
house." Breed led him forward a step or two,
and guided his hands till they touched the feet
of Brighid's image ; then she turned and her
bare feet pattered softly down the dusty aisle,
across the threshold and out into the sparse
pale sunshine outside. Her blind brother stood
still where she had placed him, clinging to
Brighid's golden feet : and presently, when they
began to quiver and move under his clinging
fingers, he stood, if possible, even stiller than
before.
" Who holds my feet? " said a deep sweet
voice. " Who, of all my children .-* "
" It's Maurice McCaura," the boy said,
57 i
faintly. "Lady Brighid, will you give us bread ?
Breed and Michael and my father are hungry,
and baby Caitlin's dead : and there's the black
Death in nearly every home in Munster."
" And yourself, child ? "
" I'm not so hungry now," the boy whis-
pered. " It's Breed — and — and little Michael
— and there's no bread in the house, and no
potatoes in the kish — "
"How many mouths to feed?" said the
deep voice.
"Three, Lady Brighid. Will you feed
them ? " pleaded the blind lad.
"And yours is the fourth. Hark. — Now
would you like to give bread to the children's
hungry mouths, and to your father's ? Will
you give yourself to me to be my servant, child ?"
"Yes," said Maurice quietly. Two strong
gentle arms closed round his slight body now
and lifted him from the Qrround — lifted and held
him breast-high, till he felt the goddess's breath
warm upon his blind eyes.
" Breed and Michael and your father shall
have food this very day — and Breed shall not
grieve long for you : I promise that," Brighid
said gently. " Now, child, let me seal you to
my service." She held him to her bosom and
kissed his blind eyes with soft cold kisses, until
the dull hunger pain and the fluttering heart
58
stopped together ; and Breed, come back and
lighting her lamp from the sacred light, found
only a dead boy awaiting her, at the feet of
holy Brighid. There was but little moan made
over Maurice McCaura ; even Breed, who loved
him better than herself, watched him buried in
his mother's grave with very few tears, and
those not tears of bitterness. Smiles and tears
were not plentiful with Breed henceforward :
the moonlight quiet of her small white face was
not disturbed for her drunken father, or Michael,
rosy and romping when the fever and famine
ceased as suddenly as they had come ; her
whole care was for the lamp she had lighted
from the one which had long ago burned out in
Brighid's temple, and whose flame she nursed
and tended, as other girls and women tended
the fire of another Brighid, in a house under
mighty oak-trees at Cill-dara. Days and weeks
went by, and months merged into years : and
old Michael McCaura dug a grave for young
Michael in another year of famine : and Breed
came to her seventeenth year.
And it fell to her lot to find a shadow at
her side wherever she went, and to have a
voice in her ears, that whispered of love and
gladness : and Breed learned to blush and
tremble like other girls, but still she was faithfiil
to her chosen work of tending the holy fire of
59
goddess Brighid. There came a day, however,
when the lover turned from Breed's moonHght
to the Hlies and roses of a better-dowered
maiden : and another day yet there came, when
a fall of earth from the mountain-side buried
bride and groom and half a score of wedding
guests in one common grave, to which came
Breed with her lamp at dead of night, toiling
with bleedingr and bruised hands till she had
cleared the earth from the two faces in the
world that she most loved and most hated.
Other hands drew them out and gave them
holy burial, not Breed's ; she and her lamp
vanished from the eyes of men when she had
looked upon those two dead faces : and only
now and then a dreamy colleen sees a slender
figure gliding among the trees on a misty night
with a lighted lamp of quaint shape held high
in her hand. And the girl who sees this figure
of Breed, however glad her love may be, and
however true her lover, will never be wife or
mother, but like Breed's her life will be broken
and sorrowful here, though it may be made
beautiful and complete in Tir na n'Og, in the
service of Brighids three, whose names are
Law and Wisdom and Love.
60
Ros Geal Dhii.
Ros Geal Dhu.
A greeting, Daik Rose^ luhcre thou sittest a-spinning^
A thread zvithout endings and without beginning :
A thread of all colours^ g^^d^ purple^ and blue :
Dark Rose^^neath thy thorn-tree^howzvears the day through ?
'^ My day it wears onward ^twixt spinning and weaving^
The noise of ?nens laughter^ the cry of their grieving
Drifts slozu by my thorn-tree like drifting of snow^
And on the old branches the nczu blossoms blow.
" / heed not the sorrow^ nor mock at the laughter^
I weave the white sark and the yellow veil after :
I have trodden the grapes^ I have pressed out the zuine.
And all men shall drink of this vintage of mine.
" One snatches the laurel I twined for his brother,
One kisses my feet : I heed one nor another :
Am I Death, O my children^ or Life! Can ye tell — ?
Or the ghost of ?naid Truth that was drozuned in her wellf''
63
Crioch Agus Amen.
CRIOCH AGUS AMEN.
The End : and Amen.
Someone has carved these words on a
weather-beaten wooden cross in Sid Cruachan :
and when I was last in Connautrht I learned
the story to which they form the tag. Here
it is : told as it was told to me by an old, old
man who might perhaps have been Ocaill, once
a king of the gentle folk in Connaught.
Once upon a time the Hungry Death lay
heavy upon Connaught, and everywhere in the
glens and hollows there grew up the Fair-
gurtha : the Hungry Grass which marks where
graceless men have eaten and drank their fill,
and never thought of scattering drop or crumb
for the "gentle" folk: and the Hungry Death
lay long heavily upon Connaught, so that corn
and kine and people died, and men and kine
lay in one deep ditch for all grave. That is to
say, the poor folk : but the rich had full barns
and brimming coffers, and the Hungry Death
held off from them so long that they thought
67
He dared not touch them. But one of their
number thought differently : and he went down
among the dying and dead with food and com-
fort and prayers : and when milk and meat were
of no use, he brought holy water and blessed
candles, and the last offices of prayer and spade
he did them, and then turned sadly home-
wards. Priest, soldier, and student were his
three brothers, and there was no help in any of
them at this time, for Donat was busy courting
a lady of the Pale, and Anthony was buried in
his rare missals, and Gildea was away in Rome
in the train of my lord Cardinal d'Este. His
father had no will to help him, and his mother,
who would have sold her last jewel for charity's
sake, had long been a saint in heaven : there-
fore it fell to Gilchrist to labour alone, and the
long days dragged on to autumn : and each
took a thread of hope with them. One day
Anthony the student came down from among
his books and sought out Gilchrist, with a new
look of purpose in his grave face.
" I have read the stars for seven niofhts
now, brother," he said, "and seven times I
have looked in my crystal ball at daybreak,
and crystal and stars say the same thing, Gil-
christ ; the Devil is in the mask of the Hungry
Death. Go down and bid them set the chapel-
bells a-ringing."
68
" What use ? " Gilchrist said. " Does your
crystal show you how one might meet the
Hungry Death face to face, Anthony?"
"Yes," Anthony said, slowly. "It is a
meeting I have long desired, Gilchrist : and I
have tried many spells to bring the Dark Man
to me. What charms did the people use, think
you, that the Hungry Death has come to them,
and taken no heed of me } "
" What will you ask of him, Anthony,
when you see him face to face } "
" Ask — what I have desired all the thirty
years of my life, Gilchrist : the philosopher's
stone."
"No other richer gift?" Gilchrist asked,
laughing into Anthony's eager face. " Not all
the kingdoms of the world, my brother ? Not
the ghost of Helen that Dr. Faustus desired ?
Not the ring of Gyges ? "
" No," Anthony said, " Helen could not
give me the philosopher's stone : and what is
one man's soul wei'^hed with that ? "
"Is the stone so heavy, then?" Gilchrist
asked, with eyes that sparkled suddenly.
" Anthony, if your mind is set on seeing the
Prince o' the Air, let me bide with you."
" I am not afraid," Anthony said coldly.
" But you can stand by, Gilchrist, an you choose.
He will be like any Court gentleman belike,
69
with a dainty ruff and a rose in his ear, and a
ofood Toledo blade."
And so it fell out. The charms were
spoken, and a pinch of shining powder scattered
into the brazier, and, with no scent of sulphur
or burst of blue flame, the door of Anthony's
chamber swung open, and a dapper gentleman
in a velvet cloak entered and saluted the
brothers with all the Qrace of France.
" Are you the Hungry Death " Gilchrist
asked, since Anthony did not speak, but sat
huddled up in his chair shivering as if he were
cold. The visitor bowed. " My eke-name for
the present, Messer," he said. " May I confer
one on you since your given name offends me ?
A thousand thanks. Then, Dov, what would
you have of me ? and you, Dav ? " looking at
Anthony with smiling eyes,
" Let the learned man speak while the ox
listens," Gilchrist said, keeping his grave eyes
on those that smiled. " Anthony — " but
Anthony did not speak.
"He is taking counsel of fear," said the
visitor gaily. " Well, Dov, do thou take
counsel also. " I have done so," Gilchrist said.
" I desire to know when the Hungry Death
goes back to his own place," The visitor's
smiling face sharpened and grew fierce. " When
I have souls enough," he snarled. " There are
70
more stones than souls in Connaught, and,
Dov you hinder me from taking my own.
Take heed lest I find a goad for you, good ox."
" I will hinder you more before that goad
is pointed," Gilchrist said. *' When will your
shadow lift from us, Dark Man ? What will
you take to go .'* "
The souls of old Anthony Sheehy, and
his sons Anthony and Donat and Gil the priest."
Then the guest threw back his head and
laughed shrilly. " And where shall I find them,
Dov ? Old Anthony's heart is a wine-cup, and
Gil the priest's is a warren of feeble coney-sins,
and young Anthony's is a book with painted
edges, and nothing writ on the pages — and
Donat's heart is a ruby trinket for mistress
Adeliza's breast. Whither shall I q-q look for
the souls they used to have ? Even my wisdom
fails to see them in any place within my ken."
"Does it so.'*" Gilchrist said. "Can
perhaps my folly help out your worship's wis-
dom, at a pinch ? "
" Sell me your soul, and we will see."
"And what then.?"
" Why then — Come, I will deal gene-
rously with you, merchant though I be — and I
am tired of hunting weasel-souls over Con-
o
naught. Give me your soul, and they shall not
see the Hungry Death again, they, nor their
71
children's children. My word is my bond,
outcast though you call me : the Hungry Death
shall go, when your soul is mine."
" What will you do with it } " Gilchrist
asked. The other laughed a thin laugh.
"Cut souls out of it for your father and
your brothers — and one, mayhap, for the lady
Adeliza. Then — when they die, I shall have
all the kin : all."
"Except my mother," Gilchrist said quietly.
" Take my soul then, and do with it as you
will." The visitor held out his hand, and
clasped Gilchrist's for a long minute : then
their hands fell apart, and Gilchrist heard
Anthony's voice speak sharply in his ears.
"Was it a dream or no.'* Gilchrist, tell
me !
" It was a dream," Gilchrist said, gently.
" It is not well to sleep by the open window at
twilight, Anthony, for the air from the marshes
is heavy with mist."
" I dreamed that I was dead," Anthony
said, shivering. " I think the Hungry Death
must ha' touched me, passing by."
" Perhaps," Gilchrist said. " I think he
will not pass by again. Shall we go down,
Anthony.-* I hear Donat calling us."
So they went down to a changed life for
both. For the Hungry Death had killed its
72
last victim, and henceforward the people found
that old Anthony Sheehy's coffers were readier
to open than of old, and that young Anthony
would read the fortunes of their absent dear
ones in his crystal ball, or fill a vial with some
unknown liquid that cured cramps more swiftly
than the expressed juice of mullein and marjoram :
and so they grew used to turning in their lesser
troubles to others than the man who only had
helped them in their bitterest need. And
Gilchrist was well pleased to know that his
sacrifice had quickened the charity of his kin-
dred : and the memory of the sacrifice itself
was not able to alter his life materially outwardly
or inwardly. Only as years went on he grew
a little graver and less quick to smile, but always
his hands were ready to salve and serve though
now he was slower to pray beside the sick-beds,
not altogether because of the pain that pierced
him at each holy word he uttered. But when
the need was sorest he was ready with the help
or the prayer : though for himself he never
prayed. And when Donat's eldest son was ten
years old, and student Anthony was seated in
soldier Anthony's place, and Gildea had put off
his black cassock for a scarlet gown, then
Gilchrist fell sick of some nameless disease, and
lay for months with all his body dead save the
kindly heart and the busy brain : having lain
73 ^
long thus It fell to him to see Donat gathered
to his fathers of a sudden fever, and Donat's
eldest son brought in dead and drowned from a
rowing-match with other lads of his degree.
So it came to pass that Donat's second
son, young Gilchrist, became heir to the Tir-na-
Sheoghaidh (the Sheehys' country) : and on
the day that Cathal was buried Gilchrist sent
for Gildea to come to his chamber when he had
made an end of striving to comfort Cathal's
mother for her newest loss. So Gildea came,
and listened to Gilchrist's confession, and when
it was at an end he sat for a long time with his
face hidden in his hands. And presently lifting
up his head he spoke as the Cardinal :
" I cannot shrive you, Gilchrist Sheehy,
and I dare not bless you, who have sold your
soul. But you sold it for God's love, Gilchrist,
and one of the kindred whose souls are yours
loves you the better for it. Our souls are yours
— and since you sold it for a selfless cause,
Gilchrist, it seems to me the pact is null and
void : that the Dark Man therefore has power
upon none of us."
" Upon none of you," Gilchrist said quietly.
" If I have given my soul among my kindred I
have none to save or lose, Gildea : and so
what end is there to this journey that I go
upon ?
7A-
"I do not know," Gildea said. "What
comfort can I give you ? "
" I can ofo comfortless," Gilchrist said
smiling. " I have looked this end in the face a
many years, Gildea. So when they bury me
write nothing of my kindred nor even my
name, but put upon the stone the words scribes
write at the end of their tales and verses."
That night he died : and that the Cardinal
obeyed his last wish the cross shows. But I
cannot help believing that the priest's logic and
Gilchrist's belief were alike wrong : and that
nothingness is not the end of that bargain made
in the Joyces' country some three hundred and
odd years ago. Even if it were, such an end
might possibly be worth more than the immor-
tality of Claudio.
75
The Wind Among the Reeds.
The Wind Among the Reeds.
Mavrone^ Mavrone ! the wind among the reeds.
It calls and cries^ and will not let me be ;
And all its cry is of forgotten deeds
When men were loved of all the Daoine-sidhe.
O Shee that have forgotten how to love^
And Shee that have forgotten how to hate.
Asleep ''neath quicken boughs that no winds move^
Come back to us ere yet it be too late.
Pipe to us once again, lest we forget
TVhat piping means, till all the Silver Spears
Be wild with gusty music, such as met
Carolan once, amid the dusty years.
Dance in your rings again : the yellow weeds
Tou used to ride so far, mount as of old —
Play hide and seek with winds among the reeds.
And pay your scores again with fairy gold.
79
Boholaun and I.
M
BOHOLAUN AND I.
BoiiOLAUN Stands up stiff and uncomely now In
the pitiless morning sunshine — a mere stalk of
ragweed, and nothing more — but let twilight
once come up from the land of the Shee, and
work her wild will with these familiar fields of
Lismahoga, and Boholaun will alter beyond
recognition, putting off rough leaf and ragged
flower for a shining silken coat of elfin grey,
and a t]owinor mane and tail of hair fine as
woven glass, and moonshine coloured. Then
unseen hands will lead him softly out from the
fairy-ring where he stands all day, and unseen
feet will press his silken sides till his stride
outpaces the wind itself, and his silver hoofs
leave shining tracks west on the cliffs of Galway,
and east in the Wexford sands. Is it Boholaun
that has changed, or only I, or have I un-
wittingly crossed the fairy-ring .'^ Still he stands
up erect and unbeautiful, but deep down under
the earth I hear the ringing of elfin bridles,
and the stamping of fairy hoofs : and now the
green-coated figures are swarming about me,
83
and the air is drowsy with the whirr of their
wings — or is it a fairy song? It is strange and
sleepy and sweet, and now that it has fallen
silent I am hungering to hear it again, and
yet
Oh ! I am awake now, and lonely for lack
of the flittering figures, and the elfin song, and
the gallant steed that istood up in Boholaun's
place, scraping the ground with an impatient
hoof. I am awake, but I remember that wild
ride with Boholaun, and I hasten to set it down
on paper ere the memory of it leaves me quite.
If I mounted him voluntarily, or if unseen
hands helped me to the saddle, I do not know :
but that I was on his back is as true as that
I now stand dismounted.
Lough and valley flashed by us, a medley
of green and grey, and next, sharp spears of
mountains orlorious with sunset : after that a
blinding mist, and then a flash of pearl and rose
that may have been a gate, and then — Ah !
then ! Asleep or awake, I slid from the saddle,
and sank at the feet of a great and gracious
figure, robed with mist. And as I lay at her
feet, other figures came and closed about me,
grave and splendid and stately, looking at me
with eyes that probed my soul ; till I felt naked
and ashamed as Adam did in Eden. I put my
hands before my face to shield it, but their
84
looks went deeper down than my eyes, and
my soul I could not shield as I could my face.
And in the scathing white light of their looks,
sins great and small, sins remembered and sins
forgotten, sins repented and sins cherished,
raised their ugly heads, and made me shrink
and quiver and recoil from their foulness, while
a light kiss slid from a dusky corner of my
heart, and showed itself a full-grown snake, and
an idle lie collapsed to a thing lamentable in its
vanity and hideousness. And still they looked
at me with eyes terrible in their mute reproach,
and no word came from their folded lips, till
once more the misty woman's figure bent over
me, and scalding tears fell from her eyes on my
upturned face. And after that a voice broke
the dreadful tension of the silence. "Diarmuid!"
It let in a light upon my soul more scathing
than that in which I had lain before : and I
leapt to my feet, stung with intolerable pain,
and answered to the name which had been mine
and now was not. And the voice called a^ain
in a broken and tearful fashion, " Diarmuid !
Diarmuid ! " And I flung out my hands in an
anguish of appeal, and other hands caught them,
and drew me softly into a long embrace. I
could not see the eyes that wept over me, or
the lips whose breath stirred my hair, but seeing
is not knowledge : and I had never quite for-
85
gotten Grainne, though ages had been blown
down the wind since our arms held each other
last. Yet I was not glad to know her arms
about me arain. I cried out, and strusfeled to
escape from them, because I was burning with
intolerable shame.
" No, no, no ! " I cried, not knowing what
I denied. And the arms held me fast : and the
soft voice crooned " Diarmuid ! " and at last I
Q-athered streng-th to know what I souo-ht to
deny, and in set words I said : "It was not I
who loved you, Grainne, in days when you
were Fionn's wife and Diarmuid's betrothed.
Some other man : not I."
And those that stood round laughed, all
save the woman who had greeted me first,
Kasar the Fomorian Oueen ; and she sobbed.
Then from denial I passed to questioning.
*' Was it you for whom I have hungered
all my life — you, Grainne, and no other ? "
"I, Grainne : and no other."
" But look at me," I cried, " a man grown,
and yet as weak as a child, Grainne, and marred
after a fashion that makes children point after
me in the streets. Take your eyes away, and
let me die here ! "
" Look ! " she said, and I looked where
her finger pointed, and saw a man standing
before me, dressed in some barbaric, antique
86
fashion, with gold on the shield he held, and a
glimmer of gold in his dusky hair. And I was
ashamed before my old self, and my eyes
smarted with tears I could not shed. But
Grainne's voice was sweet in my ears again
as she said — " I hold you in my arms, one and
the same with him you look upon — not two as
you fancy now : but the body of Maurice Cahill
holds the soul of Diarmuid, and Grainne is
weary till the twain come to her."
Then there were no more faces before my
eyes, but only flashing water, and sweeps of
turf, and crags where the eagles nest, and know
naught of the Shee and their "old ever-busy
moneyed land," as Boholaun swept me back to
my old life and my old burden, and the old
cold, clear daylight of this world where the
Shee are not seen of us awake. I think I do
my worldly part no worse for my one glimpse
of Tir na n' Og, and the hope that keeps my
heart warm night and day — the hope that some
day I may fling off this body whereof 1 am so
weary, and re-assume my old shape and my
old name. And if this come to pass, I do not
doubt — for all he stands a mere dry weed again
in the midst of the fairy-ring — I do not doubt
that Boholaun, rather than any other guide,
will come to carry me back to the Land of
Youth — to my old self — and to Grainne.
87
The Fairy Fiddler.
li
The Fairy Fiddler.
' Tis I go fiddling^ fiddling^
'By weedy ways forlorn :
I make the blackbird' s music
Ere in his breast ^tis born :
The sleeping larks I waken
Twixt the midnight and the morn.
No man alive has seen mc^
But women hear me play
Sometimes at door or window,
Fiddling the souls away^—
The child's soul and the colleen s
Out of the covering clay.
None of my fairy kinsmen
Alake music with me now :
iAlone the raths I wander
Or ride the whitethorn bough
But the wild swans they know me.^
tAnd the horse that draws the plough.
91
Dalnan,
DALUAN.
It was in Gal way that I met him first : a
sHm lad in a rough frieze suit, crossing the
quaking bog-edge with perfect serenity and
carelessness, and never once looking" to see
where he set his bare brown feet.
" Save you kindly," he called back in
answer to my " God save you," leapt nimbly to
the solid ground where I stood, and fell to
arranging a bit of bog-cotton in the curious
scarlet cap he wore. I had no intention of
glancing inquisitively at his bare feet, but I
suppose I must have done so, for, without
looking up, he said in a perfectly level voice,
" Oh, I have odds and ends of civilisation about
me after all, see." He produced from the
satchel on his shoulders a neat pair of brogues,
composedly sitting down on a tuft of grass to
put them on, and, rising, looked at me for the
first time with a pair of roguish eyes, so darkly
blue that they looked black.
95
"Shall we join company? You are going
to Galway." I answered it as a question,
though it was more an assertion.
" Yes : I am going there."
" Right : so am I. Do you speak Irish ? "
"No, worse luck! though I am Irish-born."
" You are a Browne of Carlow, I think," said
my companion, stepping out with a light swing-
ing step. " Well," scarcely listening to my
surprised assent, " I can speak Saxon to you.
Have the bees of Carlow their stings still ? I
suppose not."
" You are proverb-wise, I see," I said,
somewhat piqued. " Since you know my name
I might as well know yours — I'm afraid I
cannot guess it." He faced round on me,
guessing perhaps that I was annoyed, and held
out a hand delicate and slender as a lady's.
" I am too light for you to quarrel with," he
answered. " Nobody runs amuck at the thistle-
down even when it flies into folks' faces. Well.
. . . I am lighter than the thistledown, and
idler : and my name's Daluan. " I took the
proffered hand and found it icy cold to my
touch, though as soft as the thistledown he had
likened himself to. Then he drew it away
from me with a laugh, and we proceeded on
our way to Galway town, I not a little specula-
tive as to the character of my odd companion,
96
and he, quite cool and composed, singing a
wild Irish song as he went.
*' All away to Tir na n'Og are many roads that run,
But the darkest road is trodden of the King of Ireland's
son."
"Do you see that.'*" he said presently,
pointing to a cairn on the roadside. "There
lies one of those that liked well to see the
green above the red : a good Irishman, and a
kind soul, for all his empty pockets and waste
lands. And one day men that he had fed and
sheltered came and shot him on hisown doorstep,
and left him to the tender mercies of the kites."
" Who buried him here, then ?" I enquired
sharply. Daluan stood looking thoughtfully
down at the cairn, his dark head bare.
" I did," he said simply. " I would have
given him a king's burying, but I was my lone."
" Mad," I thought to myself, my pulses
quickening, "or he would never pretend to
have buried a man of 98 — a lad like him."
*' The world wears on to sundown, and love is lost and
won,
But he recks not of loss or gain — the King of Ireland's
son —
He follows on for ever when all your chase is done —
He follows after shadows — the King of Ireland's son.
"Then he looked at me, smiling, and
answered my thoughts as he had done before.
97 o
"You don't understand — quite. But the sun
sets and rises outside Carlow, Sidier Rhu."
" I never said it didn't," I said, rather
sharply. "What place is that over there?
Do.you know it ? "
" I think I know every house in Ireland,"
he said simply, "from Derry of the oakwoods
to Donegal of the strangers. That place is the
'Rood House' Inn: it was a nunnery of
Bridget's long ago."
" I shall put up there for a while," I said.
" And you ?" He looked at me, smiling. " I
shall stay with you for a while," he said. You
will be sorry, perhaps, but you may be glad
afterwards, Brian aroon." I was sorry, but I
was not anxious to show it, so I hastily denied
his assertion.
" I am very glad to have so amusing a
comrade, Daluan," I said. " But why do you
call me Brian ? That is my second name, but
I am always called by my first — Archibald."
" Brian is best," Daluan observed quietly.
" Let us go in and eat : it is a long way from
Kilclary." I was getting used now to his
apparent knowledge of my movements, and so
made no sign of surprise, but entered the long
rambling coffee-room of the Rood House, and
ordered dinner for two. However, I might
have spared my pains, for when the meal
98
was served Daluan would have none of the
baked meats I had chosen, but broke his fast
with a couple of potatoes and a draught of milk,
brought in a queer horn goblet, lettered with
some stranore leg^end in Irish characters which
I could not decipher. The waiter, a red-headed
lad with a pair of merry blue eyes, watched us
both pretty sharply, I saw, and I fancied that
he drew a long breath of relief when I rose and
proposed to continue our journey, not desirous
of spending the night in the ' Rood House' as
would be our probable fate if we waited for the
heavy clouds that were rolling up from the east.
" Let us go, then," Daluan said as I paid the
red-haired youth : "the best of the day is gone.
See the dust dancing." I drew back from the
open doorway to avoid the whirling dust, but
he stepped out into the midst of it, with a
curious gesture — I could not tell if it were
addressed to me, nor yet if it were of reproach,
derision, or farewell. It may have been the
latter, for when the dust-cloud left the way
clear, there was no sign of Daluan in the road,
or in the stony fields stretching away to the
horizon-line.
" Odd," I said, surprised, " but he is odd.
My change ? ah, thanks ! Can't you keep your
mouth shut, man ? " I suppose Daluan's disap-
pearance had irritated me more than I knew,
99
for the waiter's gaping astonishment put me
almost past all self-control. " Here, there's a
silver key for you," and I tossed him another
shilling. "Well, what's the matter now.-*"
"Will yir honour take it back .-^ " the fellow
almost whimpered. " 'Tis fairy money, sure,
and I'd have the comether put on me for
touchin' ut : Och, put it away, sorr, an' get
away wid ye : we never did ye anny harm,
sure : Lord be betune us an avil ! "
I delivered myself of some Ossianic denun-
ciation, threw the money in his frightened face,
and departed, vowing by Neptune and Nebu-
chadnezzar to be very careful in my choice of
travelling companions next time.
The years swept along at a rate that soon
obliterated chance impressions.
One day in October — the 31st, I believe —
I, a Major now, and a one-armed Major at that,
went to Galway to spend a few days with an
old friend and some time brother-in-arms, one
Felix O'Flaherty, developed by easy circum-
stances and a bachelor life into a dilettante
antiquary. We had gone together to visit a
certain rath supposed to be haunted by the
ghosts of a De Danann King and Queen, and
in the dusk I turned down the wrong path,
missing O'Flaherty, who had been walking a
few yards in front. I was half-way down the
100
lane before I found out my mistake, and,
hearing a sound of voices in advance, I perse-
vered in my way. Presently, the lane widened
out, and, without any warning, I came upon a
mourning group of men and women assembled
in a great circle round a mound that looked
like a newly-turfed grave. It was the women,
by the way, who formed the circle : and there
was just twilight enough for me to see their
faces set white in the blackness of their hooded
cloaks. The men stood back in the shadows of
the stone fence, but I could hear their cry well
enough, and I wondered at it not a little,
knowing that the keen is generally raised by
w^omen. And this was the burden of the keen,
or, at least, all of it that I could understand :
" Daluan is dead — dead ! Daluan is dead."
Then, with a burst of laughter from the women,
infinitely sadder than their moaning, hitherto
inarticulate, came the cry " Da Mort is King."
I turned back, and made the best of my way
homewards as soon as might be : and after
dinner I told the story to O' Flaherty when his
flow of antiquarian anecdote flagged a little,
and asked him what it meant, and who was
dead in the neighbourhood. " Nobody / know,"
he said, laying his pipe "down " and I thought I
heard all the news. Fergus," to his man who
was adroitly reviving a dying fire, "who has
lOI
died lately?" "Nobody, sir." "But you
hear what Major Browne says." Fergus stood
up and saluted, but did not take his eyes from
the fire. " I heard, sir. The Major went
down the Black Boreen." " And you think that
explains matters.'*" "I do, sir. Did the
Major know any of the faces.'* " " No : I saw
no men, only heard them," I explained. " But
I should know one woman in the group if I
met her again : an oldish woman with red hair,
and a peculiarly white face. Not ill-looking by
any means and blind too, I think."
" Biddy Va'an, who died last year," master
and man said with one voice. I laughed
uneasily. " Do you mean to say I've been
seeing ghosts, Felix?" "To-night's the 31st
of October," Fergus said meaningly. " What
was the name you heard. Major ? " " Daluan."
"You've heard it before?" O'Flaherty said
quickly. " Well, it isn't an Irish name, Archie —
at least nobody owns it now." " I met a fellow
once with that name," I said, thinking aloud.
" Only —what are you driving at, Felix ? "
" Oh-h, nothing: Only Da Luan is Irish
for Monday. I thought it might have struck
you before, old fellow."
" It didn't. And now, Felix ?"
" Well, you said the keen ended with,
' Monday is dead : Tuesday is King.' My
102
dear fellow, rub up your memory a little. Did
you never read of Greek dryads and fauns
shrieking * Pan is dead : great Pan is dead.'
Yes : of course you have. Well, Keltic fairies
were said to vary their lament thus : ' Monday
is dead.' "
"And you mean to say — my dear Felix,
it's preposterous — '' I broke off angrily. "In
these material days no one would believe. — You
were joking } "
" Was I ? We'll go to the Black Boreen
to-morrow, Archie, and if we get light or sight
of Da Luan's grave I'll eat my words, and my
hat too. Man alive, there are pishogues and
sheogues in Ireland yet, for all the mills in
Belfast and Armagh."
We did go to the Black Boreen next day,
but we found level turf instead of a mound, and
over the place where I thought I had seen the
newly-turned sods there was growing a patch
of bogcotton and ragweed.
103
Una of the West.
i
Una of the West.
It's " Una, Una, Una ! "
The birds cry after me.
When I go back at sunset
Into my own country —
With « Una, Una, Una,''
They will not let w be.
With T)ruid leaves they crowned me
The mistress of the Shee,
East wind and west they gave me.
For hounds to follow me :
Mine are the yellow ragweeds
And mine the quicken tree.
I teach the dreaming colleen
How she her love may win :
I wake old harps from silence
To wail for days of Fionn :
I make the long grass greener
That folds Saint Ide in.
It's ''Una, Una, Una,"
Birds sing and will not stay :
And not a plover whistles
Or lark dare greet the day
Until I come from westward
And bid the night away.
107
«
The Soul of Maurice Dwver.
THE SOUL OF MAURICE DWYER.
" There is a power o' ugly things in the wood
of Foynes," said the good people of St. Donart's,
a little village in an out-of-the-way corner of
Munster, and so Maurice Dwyer said to himsell
as he paused under a blackened birch-tree in
this same wood, looking and listening- with such
a cold fear tugging at his heart-strings as he
had never felt before in all his sixteen years.
"Is there anny one there?" he cried, as
the under-growth shook and stirred. "If there
is, let him spake, for the love of Mary."
" For the love of Mary I'll do naught,"
said a tall man, clad from head to foot in dull
gray, as he bent the reeds and grasses to right
and left, and stepped out into the clearer foot-
path. "What would you have of me, boy.^
Speak out : and don't stand trembling like a
rabbit."
" I've no cause to tremble," Maurice Dwyer
1 1 1
said, quietly, " I want to know are ye the Great
Dhoul himself, or only a shlip o' the same
stock ? "
"Civilly now, my boy," the man in gray
said, placidly. " No, I am not the Great Dhoul
— say I am only one of his servants. Why do
you come here, Maurice Dwyer? It's your
mother I and my master have to do with."
"Sure it is," Maurice said, "and she's in
mortal terror for her soul, lest ye'd have power
upon it, since she's taken up with Phaudrig
Gorey, and him with a vanithee of his own in
County Antrim."
" Mortal terror she may well be in, if she
holds her soul dear, for 'tis nearly ours, and a
poor slip of a soul it is, after all our trouble :
and the sins of it scarcely worth a thraneen."
" Then let it go," Maurice pleaded. " Sure,
she loves Phaudrig well : and the woman in
Antrim's an idle stravag as ever was. Let my
mother's soul go free."
"Softly, now : the Great Dhoul does nothing
for nothing, Maurice, What have you got to
offer for Mauryeen Dwyer's soul } "
" There's my own."
" Your own soul, is it ? Well, it may be
worth more to my Master than your mother's."
"Take it, then," Maurice said, drawing a
deep breath. " Sure, she has been a kind
112
mother to me : and I'll burn for her, with a
heart and a half,"
" Will you ? " said the man in gray» smilingi
Take a minute to choose — the Dhoul is a fair
dealer." As he spoke, Maurice Dwyer reeled
back against the scorched tree-trunk, panting,
caught in the grip of an agony crueller than
death.
"Well?" said the man in gray. "You
may cry to Mary and all the saints, but it will
never cease. And if you call in priest and
doctor, neither can help you. Be at peace
now." He lifted his hand, and the fiery pain
was gone, leaving the boy still panting and
trembling with the memory of it. " Now
choose. Her pain or yours ?"
" My pain ! " the boy said, faintly but
steadily : and the man in gray laughed mali-
ciously, as he signed him on breast and brow.
"Now burn," he said, "as you have chosen,
fool. And here^ that you may not blab of this
night's doing, for our Master loves silent sub-
jects " He stooped and kissed Maurice
full on the lips. " Love and hate, court and
marry, help and destroy henceforward as you
will, but be dumb, in the name of the Dhoul.
If your tongue desires freedom, it shall be free
to speak the great Dhoul's name. And now,
farewell — or fare ill, I care not."
1^3 <<J
** Maurice ? Maurice agra, what are you
doing here deep in the wood ? There are
wicked things here, my mother says."
Mairgread's soft cheek was pressed to his,
and Mairgread's fingers pulled his hand away
from his eyes,
** Maurice avick, what is it ails you ? Why
don't you speak to me ? Or," flushing and
drawing sharply back, "have you taken the
rue ? " Maurice shook his head, struggling
desperately to speak and break the charm, but
his tongue failed him in his need, and he could
only stand and look at the girl with loving,
hopeless eyes.
" Is it a pishogue that's been put on you?"
Mairgread asked, suddenly. ** Sure, you had
your speech this morning : or is it a trick you're
playing me, Maurice Dhu .'* " Maurice shook
his head again : and Mairgread's puzzled face
grew suddenly scared and white.
" Is it worse than a pishogue ? Is it devil-
ment ? " she gasped. " Augh, and the ill name
that the wood's got! In the name of Mary,
answer me, Maurice Dwyer — have the ill things
got hold upon ye?" It was better to end the
little tragedy at once : Maurice nodded. Mair-
gread drew back a step or two, looking fixedly
at his downcast face : then as he raised his
head, and looked her squarely in the eyes she
114
turned with a faint cry, and plunged into the
bushes, sobbing as she went. Maurice set his
teeth and turned his face homewards. The
next time he set eyes on Mairgread Rua, he
was a man grown, and she was foremost among
a band of women who had lain in wait for him
on the lonely Derrycarn road, to stone him as
he trudged along the way to the wretched hut
that sheltered him, Mairgread's aim was surer
than that of the other women, and her missiles
came so swiftly that Maurice's forehead and
cheek were soon cut and bleeding. *' Augh, let
me go," Mairgread cried, suddenly, throwing
up her arm to cover her eyes, " 'tis the evil eye
that he's looking at me wid. Let me go,
Maurice Dwyer : turn your eyes away, they're
dhrawin' me heart out ov me body."
Maurice turned away, with a smile on his
lips, and went quietly on his homeward way,
The door of his hut stood wide open, and over
the open fireplace stood a tall man, holding his
hands over the burning turfs. As Maurice's
shadow fell at his feet he turned with a start,
and Maurice Dwyer saw the face of the man
in gray. ** You ? " said his uninvited guest.
" You, Dwyer? I asked after you, and the
fools here said you were dead. How has
the world used you, man ? I played a sorry
trick upon you when I saw you last. Why
115
don't you speak ? " With sudden irritation.
" Good God ! — recoiling a step — " do you mean
to say you never found me out ? "
Maurice shook his head. The other
made a hasty movement with his open hands,
and then Maurice opened his Hps and spoke, in
a strange halting voice. " Was it all a thrick,
thin ? and you no dhoul at all .'* Wirrasthrue,
and was it for this that my mother died and
wouldn't spake to me ? And the days black to
me, and the ways sore, by rason of your thrick !"
•' Say what you please," the man said humbly,
"It was a cruel trick, but if I had known how
it was to hurt you — "
" Who are ye, at all ? " Maurice Dwyer
said. "And what did ye know of me, and
mine ? And how comes it that the pain tuk
me at your bidding, man alive .•* "
" That was pure chance. I am a Limerick
man, and the world had gone wrong with me,
and I was ready for any mischief. And then I
had heard in Foynes of your mother, and how
her man was no husband : and the woman that
told me this said too that you had gone to the
wood to make terms with the Dhoul — curse the
meddling tongue of her!" "Let curses be!
Maybe her tongue's still to-day," Maurice said
hoarsely. " Well, 'tis over, sure, and I bear ye
no malice — though ye put a load on my back
ii6
that came nigh to breaking it. But what's
done's done : and there are no hearts broken
over it. — Hould me back, jewel — " suddenly
grasping the stranger's arm with both hands,
" if ye' re not the Dhoul indeed, for there's a
black pit at my feet, and — "
" For God's sake, speak to me," said the
man from Limerick, as Maurice's head fell back
against his breast. " There's surely a Dhoul —
if there's a God at all, speak, man, and say you
forgive me."
" There is a God," Maurice said. " And
I bid Him bless ye — "
Perhaps He would, in days to come : but
before the stranger could answer, He had taken
the soul of Maurice Dwyer to Himself, and
Sheeoge nor Dhoul had further power upon it.
to bless — or to ban.
117
Kasar of the Fomoroh.
Kasar of the Fomoroh.
Deathsmitten by the light of the De Danann
Thou wert^ Kasar :
Tlieir glory grows and deepens but not wholly
Outshines thy star.
Thy star is pale and shines thro'' dark clouds drifting;
Tlie east wind cold
Blows on it : yet it darkens not, but quenches
De Danann gold.
O light of many tribes that dwelt in darkness.
Fierce and forlorn :
First star to light the hunters in the stormy
Fomorian morn.
First star beloved of men, first star forgotten,
O morning star —
Be near 7ne, dusk^ or dawning — lead me sunwards,
Kasar, Kasar !
121
'V
The Gifts of Aodh and Una.
THE GIFTS OF AODH AND UNA.
"When will the plague cease?" the people
of Brefny cried. "When will the curse be
lifted from our homes, and the blight from
our fields ? Answer us this : O ye Ollavs."
And the Ollavs said in answer : " Hearken in
patience a little, O men and women of Brefny,
Surely ye shall be free from the plague, and
surely the famine shall be ended, when a maid
and boy of royal blood deliver themselves over,
body and soul, to the ancient gods whom ye
have deserted, in the temples ye have dishon-
oured." The Princes of O'Rourke, Adamnan,
Fergus and Aodh, looked at each other, and
drew quickly away from the little crowd of
nobles and Brehons round the carved golden
chair where old Kin"" Eochaidh sat to (jive
justice to his people — " in the eye of the sun."
" Didst thou hear, brother.^" Fergus the
soldier said to Adamnan the scholar. "The
125
gods have spoken — not the new gods that our
mother worships — but the old gods of our
fathers : and they will not be denied. Who is
to go ? I am aptest at swordplay, but what is
swordplay against ghosts ? " "I have married
a wife," Adamnan said calmly, " and I cannot
go. Aodh, is thy heart high enough for this ? "
Aodh smiled : and a spot of colour came into
Adamnan's pale face as he met his young
brother's grave eyes. " Thou wilt do it?" he
said, " Ghosts and all, young Aodh ? Bethink
they will have thee body and soul." Aodh
turned and looked down at the clustering huts
below the hill where they stood. " The blue
mist still steams up and slays my father's people,"
he said gravely. " Let us go to my father,
brothers : for his heart is sore till the plague be
stayed amid his people."
"It is not fair for thee to bide the trial,
our youngest," Fergus protested. " I will
rather gfo, and if the worst come to the worst —
well, do thou comfort Brighid."
" Nay, good my brother," Aodh said
gently. "Adamnan has his wife Eiver, and
thou art troth-plight to Brighid : tTierefore it is
fittest for me to go, who have no love and no
lady."
"It is fittest for thee to go, my brother,"
Adamnan said, with a sudden flush on his face.
126
" For surely thou hast the bravest heart of us
three, and the whitest soul. And so may our
mother's gods shield thee, Aodh, and our own
gods deal gently with thee — "
" Let them deal with me as they will,"
Aodh said, as he turned once more to look
down at the clustered huts in the valley, " so
they spare my father's people. Let us to my
father now — and wilt thou speak for me,
Adamnan, and declare my purpose ? My
tongue is not as ready as thine." Adamnan
put his arm round his young brother's shoulders,
and the three went slowly back to the little
crowd of nobles, Brehons, and priests surround-
ing the King's chair, and looking down in
troubled silence at the clamourino% famine-
stricken crowd below them. The nobles grave
back to let the princes pass, and Aodh went
quickly up to his father, and knelt there,
Adamnan standing over him, with a caressing
hand laid on his dark hair.
" Father," Adamnan said, raising his voice
a little. " Father — and my people — the man
has been found that will give his soul and his
body to the ancient gods, that they may spare
thy people and thy fields of yellow corn."
"He has been found .^" King Eochaidh
said quaveringly. "Not thou — not thou, O my
son Adamnan ? "
127
" Nay, my liege : not I," Adamnan said
gravely. " Neither I nor Fergus : but he that
will give these gifts kneels here."
" Aodh ? Our little Aodh ? " the Princess
Eiver cried incredulously, as she sprang up
from her seat on the short sfreen ofrass.
Adamnan lifted his head and looked at his wife
with something like anger in his black eyes.
" O Lady of Brefny, not so," he answered
sharply. " Henceforward my brother shall be
called of us ' Little Aodh ' no long-er : but Aodh
Great- Heart."
"Rise, my son — " Eochaidh said, leaning
forward, "and answer for thyself, in the eye of
the sun. Is this thy will indeed, to give this
gift of thyself to thy father, and thy father's
people ? "
"It is my will, indeed, my lord and my
father," Aodh said, facing round to the people
for a moment, as he stood up, " I give the gift
with all my heart, to thee and to my people."
"We accept the gift, Prince Aodh," his
father said solemnly. " Lean thou hither that
I may kiss thee — the last of my kisses, little
Aodh. — And now," as he stood up and laid two
trembling hands on Aodh's shoulders, "hither,
ye priests of Crom and of Aongus, and take
this gift of Prince Aodh. Farewell, son ;
henceforward thou art the gods' — not mine.
128
Farewell." " Farewell," Aodh said smiling, as
the priests came eagerly about him. " Now,
fathers, I am yours : and what geasa do ye lay
upon me ? "
" None yet," said the eldest priest, Miledh,
" but fast ye must, and pray ye must, and make
pure your flesh with the water of the Breed
well : and ye must put on the saffron and scarlet
of a Kingr's son : and afterwards we will p-ive
ye to the gods. But hark ye, brothers : here
is the boy, but where is the maid .-^ Is there
no daughter of the royal house will give a royal
gift to her people — like this Aodh ? " He
spoke to the King : but the King lay back in
his seat with both wrinkled hands covering his
face, and for a space there was no answer.
Then, as Miledh's eyes travelled round the
circle of nobles and Brehons, there stepped
forth from it the Princess Eiver, splendid in her
trailing robes of blue and saffron, with a diamond
blazino- in the fillet round her forehead : and
she said : " I have a little sister, of the royal
blood of Ullad : and pure she is as the first
snow, and fair enow for a gift to the gods : and
for a year and a day she has dwelt among my
handmaidens, and neither has she loved, nor
been loved. Bide ye here a little while I send
for her. Maiden Moirin, go hence swiftly and
call the lady Una from her spinning : and," in
129 s
a low voice, "say only to her that her sister
desires her presence." There was a silence :
and the pebbles of the hillside were scattered
by hurrying girlish feet, and Aodh saw the
Princess Una for the first time : for hitherto
she had sat unseen among her sister's many
maidens. She was little and slender and pale
like a lily, and drooped her yellow head a little,
like a lily : and in her dress she wore the lily's
colours of white and green, and her rosy feet
were bare under the garment's hem. " Daugh-
ter of Nuad," the Princess Eiver said, as the
girl drew near, " and sister of my heart, it is
my will that thou goest forth with these priests
of great Crom, and that thou doest their will as
thou hast done mine, without question, and in
all things. And I lay this geasa upon thee that
thou art dumb until this chief amongst them,
giveth thee leave to speak. Now do my will
maiden Una." The girl bent her fair head in
silence, and gave her hand to Miledh and let
him lead her away, with just one last backward
glance at her sister, of such gentle wonder as
made Aodh's heart burn within him, as he
followed after her to the great golden temple of
Crom. "She is a child," he said to those that
walked beside him, " and she does not know.
My sister Eiver has no right to give her life
away : it was a cruel deed. Is there no other
130
woman will take her place, and save the people
of Brefny ? "
" No other, lord."
"At least, then," Aodh pleaded, "take her
not blindly to her death. Tell her what thing
lies before her : she is a royal maiden, and not
a sheep to be driven dumb to the slaughter."
" Have no fear, my son," a young priest
said in his ear. " Miledh is my mother's
brother, and I will plead with him that he lift
the geasa from the maiden or ever we give ye
to the gods."
Aodh sighed and fell silent : there was
small use in protest, for the priests and the
gods and the people were all on one side, and
what was one girl's life to these ? After all, it
was best to endure, and be silent : and in silence
he suffered them to bathe and clothe him as
richly as they would, and in silence, when the
two days of fasting were over, he lay in the
litter they had prepared for him, and felt his
bearers stumble over the scattered stones in the
valley. Neither priests nor soldiers came near
him then, but at the end of the first day's
journey his litter was set down in a green little
glen where a stream ran tinkling under slender
birch trees, and the curtains of it were drawn
back by Miledh himself " Rise, and eat," he
said, " and be free to speak, Prince Aodh : for
131
the geasa is lifted from the lady Una, and her
lips are loosed. I lay it upon thee, my son, to
tell her whither she is journeying."
"I know to what end we journey, my father,"
Aodh said. " But I also know not whither."
" There are twain temples on an island
in the Shannon," Miledh said, smiling, "and one
is builded to the heroes of the Fianna : and one
is the temple of Crom Mighty. And the
maiden Una must into the shrine of the Mighty
One : and there work his will."
"And I to the temple of the Fianna,"
Aodh said quietly. "It is well, my father :
and I will tell the princess what lies before her
— if the telling of the tale is laid upon me."
" In the name of Crom the Thunderer I
lay it on thee, Aodh, son of Eochaidh," Miledh
said sternly. " Up, daughter Una, and give
greeting to this kinsman of thine." Una
started up hurriedly from the fallen tree whereon
she had seated herself, and moved a step or
two forward, to meet Aodh. " I give thee
greeting, kinsman and Prince," she said,
modestly. " Art thou later from Brefny than I,
and canst thou give me news of my lord the
King and my sister the lady Eiver?"
" Nay, lady Una : for I left Brefny when
thou didst : and my litter has been but a few
yards behind thine all day."
1321
* I did not see thee," Una said. " Are we
to be faring-fellows all the way, knowest thou ? "
" All the way whither, Lady Una ? "
" I do not know. My sister bade me ask
no questions," Una said simply. " I may
speak now — my father yonder saith — but
whither we go I have not asked."
" It is full time for thee to know, my
daughter," Miledh said gravely. " Speak,
Prince Aodh."
"Ay, tell me," Una said innocently. " Do
we go to my sister Maiga in Connaught ? 'Tis
a long journey and a sore."
" Nay, little princess," Aodh said very
gently, " but we go farther yet. Hast thou not
heard that the gods are angry, and the folk of
Brefny die by scores, and the wheat is blighted,-*"
"Ay." Una nodded, " I have heard." "So
the priests sought the gods' will, and they
learned that Crom would slay and not spare
until two of royal blood — a man and a maid —
were given over to the angry gods to work
their will — to torment and to slay as they
pleased. O child," Aodh broke off suddenly,
" canst thou not guess the rest } " Una gave a
little cry, and shrank back. " Am I the maid
chosen } Art thou the man '^ Oh cruel ! cruel !
We are too young to die."
" Nay, Princess Una ! " Aodh drew the
133
sobbing child into his arms and held her fast.
" I have seen seventeen good years, and thou
how many ? "
" Fifteen," sobbed Una.
" Fifteen happy years, and now a great
deed has come to thy hand, and thou wilt surely
do it. Is it not a great deed to bring back
blood to thy people's withered veins, and give
bread to their hungry mouths ? And to feed
and heal them we have but to die."
" But will the gods be kind," Una sobbed,
*'and slay us swiftly } Kinsman, I am afraid —
I am afraid — Thou wilt stand by me."
" Nay now, king's daughter, be of stronger
heart," Aodh said gravely. " I go alone to the
temple of the Fianna, and thou alone to the
shrine of Crom, and there we submit our
bodies and our souls to the crods to do with as
they will. And the ghosts of our fathers will
be with us to watch that we shame them not in
any torment. Art thou still afraid, O Princess?"
" Not with such deadly fear," Una whispered,
" but the shrine will be dark and cold and
dreadful — and I shall surely shriek and shame
my fathers — ''
"Nay: thou wilt suffer all nobly, and
shriek not at all," Aodh said tenderly. " Thou
wilt know I shall be listening from the midmost
of mine own ordeal — and — There, kinswoman,"
134
as Una drew herself away from his clasp, with
a proud flush on her face, " so should a lady of
Eri look, when she goes to an unknown terror
for love's sake."
"For love's sake?" Una's large blue eyes
were brightened with a new and strange light.
" For love's sake shall I yield me into Crom's
hands, Prince Aodh?" Aodh put out his hands
hurriedly to her and his eyes took fire from
hers.
" For love's sake only. Una of Ullad, and
for no other in the world." He drew her to
him and kissed her on the forehead, and
presently on the lips : and then the priest
Miledh spoke, smiling his strange mocking
smile meanwhile. " Ye have taken your food
from the gods' table," he said, " and now ye
must eat of our earthly food, lady and lord.
Here are cresses from the brook, and a woman
has come hither with new-baked cakes in her
veil, and a noofo-in of new milk : so here will
we sit and break bread together, for I also am
royal, and of the clan Orgiall."
" I also am royal," Aodh said smiling too,
"but my royalty will serve thine age, father — •
and my lady's womanhood." He moved away
a few steps and came back with the jar of milk
and the smoking cakes wrapped in fresh green
leaves. " Drink, father ; for the way was long
135
and dusty to-day — And drink thou too, dear
heart."
" I drink to thee, my Prince," Una said as
she finished her draught ; and broke a cake
with him. Miledh laughed.
O
" 'Tis a pretty play," he said, ** and 'tis
good to be young and lovers, yet forget not
what stands back of all this, Prince and
Princess. No marriasfe-vows and marriaofe bed
for ye : only a kiss or two stolen before ye kiss
Death."
" I had forgotten," Una said faintly. " Ay,
he is right, Aodh, and we will kiss no more.
Death is stronger than we are."
*' Nay : that he is not, for we have come
so far to seek him of our own free will, sweet
Una. Kiss again we will — ay, and even when
the doors of Death stand open for us."
" Brave words, my son : and 'tis wisdom
to be merry when going to grip with Messer
Death. And not a kiss will I balk ye of,"
Miledh said, with his strange smile, " but my
task it shall be to remember ye midmost of
your kisses of the terror to come."
" I drink to thee, my Princess," Aodh
said, with a touch on Una's folded hands.
" Drink : as once I drank to a fairer lady,"
Miledh said. " But my kisses turned to ashes
on my lips when my bride turned from her sage
136
to a mere soldier, and spent on him her heart's
gold with small return : and for the sake of my
spoiled kisses I am blithe to-night, young-
lovers, to bid ye kiss and kiss, and remember
those that wait for thee, Princess, in the temple
of Crom — and those that will make merry with
thy pains, Prince, in the House of the Heroes."
Aodh laughed as Una stood up, and put her
hand trustfully in his.
" Let us wait until the House of the
Heroes is in our sight," he said. " Sweet, shall
I put thee in thy litter, or wilt thou walk afoot ?
It cannot be far hence to the river-edge."
" It is not far," Miledh said. " Nor also
is it far to the Houses of Crom and the Heroes."
It was not far : for the oarsmen had not rowed
the boats down the clear waters of the Shannon
for more than an hour, when a shadowy island
hove in sight, and in a few minutes the
travellers were standing knee-deep in the tall
grass, shading their eyes against the westering
sun, as it dropped down in gold and scarlet
behind the black ruin of Crom's temple.
" We are here at our journey's end,"
Miledh said, as the little company paused with
one consent. "Yonder is the place beloved of
Crom, and — look eastward — there shines the
House of the Heroes." It shone indeed in the
face of the sunset, its great pillars wreathed
137
round with fantastic carved shapes of god and
devil, its great door glistering with plates of
gold : and on its roof a huge hound crouched
as if for a spring, and the rains had worn seams
down its stone sides.
"We are here," Miledh repeated. "Daugh-
ter, thine hour has come." Una went forward
a step or two, then drew back with a cry of
terror as the door of Crom's temple swung open
and closed again.
*' Aodh, help ! "
"There is no help in Aodh," Miledh said.
" Come, daughter of a king, and be of good
heart : thy kinsman goeth to the same fate."
Una looked round hurriedly : Aodh was already
on the moss-grown steps of the temple of the
Fianna, and the sunset blazed on his face as he
turned round to the watchers, showing it as
quiet as it had been when Una saw him first,
in the valley of the cresses. He waved his
hand to her in mute greeting and farewell, and
set his hands against the gilded door, which
was slow to yield— so slow that, still pushing,
he turned his head and saw Una's white gar-
ments fluttering in the wind as she put her soft
palms against the temple-door and pushed it
slowly back — saw the love and fear striving
together in her face — and heard the cry she
gave as the darkness swallowed her up. Then
138
the door at which he was striving opened wide,
and from the dark shrine swept out a cloud of
fine grey dust. The door clanged to behind
him, and he went up the aisle walking ankle-
deep in the fine dust, and straining his eyes to
see through the darkness if indeed figures paced
beside him, and ghostly groups gave way before
him, as he could not help but fancy. At last
his outstretched hands touched a twisted horn
of some smooth cold substance, and he knew
that he had reached the end of his journey.
With his left hand clinging to the horn he
turned towards the dark temple, saying aloud,
" Here I stand, Aodh, with gifts to give the
Fianna and their gods. In the name of my
mother's God, let them who desire my gifts,
come to me." " Aodh, son of Eochaidh," a
shivering voice cried out, "give me thy youth."
"I give," Aodh said quietly. "Aodh!" said
another voice, reedy and thin but sweet, **give
me thy knowledge : I, Grania, loved much and
knew little." There was a gray figure at his
side, and without a word Aodh turned and laid
his forehead on the ghost's cold breast. As he
rested thus, another voice said, " I am Oisin :
give me thy death, O Aodh ! " Aodh drew a
deep breath, then he lifted his head, and clasped
a ghostly figure in his arms, and holding it
there, felt it stiffen and grow rigid and colder
139
yet. " Give me thine hope, Aodh ! " " Give
me thy faith, Aodh ! " " Give me thy courage,
Aodh ! " " Give me thy dreams, Aodh ! " So
the voices called and cried, and to each Aodh
answered, and gave the desired gift. " Give
me thine heart, Aodh," cried another. " I am
Maive, who knew much and loved little."
And with a sickening sense of pain Aodh felt
slender cold fingers scratching and tearing
their way through flesh and sinew till they
grasped his heart, and tore the fluttering thing
away. " Give me thy love, Aodh ! " another
implored. " I am Angus, Master of Love, and
I have loved none."
" Take it," Aodh said faintly : and there was
a pause. But soon the shivering voices began
again, and the cold fingers clutched at his bare
arms and feet, and the breath of ghostly lips
played on his cheek as the cloudy figures came
and went, and struggled and scrambled about
him, until they all fell silent and still at the
tread of mighty feet up the dark church. " Son
of a King," said a voice, deep and clear and
full. " Aodh, what hast thou left to give to me
— Fionn ? " " I have nothing left to give my
King," Aodh said wearily. " I have given all
I have, except my soul." " It is that I desire,"
said the mighty voice. Aodh hesitated for a
moment, and then he stretched out his hands.
140
" Take it, if it is mine to give, O King :
and now let me die."
" Didst thou not give thy death to my son
Oisin but now ? "
" I remember," Aodh said faintly. *' I
will live then, God pity me ! "
" Wilt thou have thy gifts again. Prince
Aodh.^"
" Nay, what man gives and takes again ? "
Aodh said still more faintly — " what I gave I
gave — " He had an instant's glimpse of a
noble face smiling down at him, then the fine
gray dust was in his eyes and ears, blinding
and deafening him, and the next moment he
was standing out in the free air once more.
He drew in a long breath of the salt sharp
wind, and lifting his dazed eyes for a moment,
looked round and saw Una lying at his feet in
her purple litter, white and still and beautiful,
with her hands crossed meekly on her breast,
and a look of defiance frozen on her face.
Miledh put his arms hurriedly about the young
man, but Aodh kept himself closely in check,
and the face he bent down to Una's, when he
kissed her, was set as sternly as her own.
Then he rose up and went down through the
long grass, Miledh keeping step with him : nor
was his utter stillness broken when they laid
Una on the deck on a bed of purple, and the
141
old priest broke down into unwilling tears to
hear the rowers chanting softly of " Una bawn "
and her goodness and her graces.
*' Art thou dumb, boy ? " Miledh cried, at
last, " or didst thou find a fairer mistress in
yonder dark temple ? "
** I found no other mistress," Aodh said.
" And wherefore should I speak, when I cannot
heal ? "
" She gave a great gift," Miledh said, " and
her memory will be blessed for ages to come.
What didst thou give, O Aodh, besides thy
youth .'^ Thy head is as white as mine."
" What matter ? " Aodh said, wearily.
" She gave : and I gave ; and who shall reckon
up our gifts ? "
"Ay indeed, what matter?" Miledh assented.
" Lie down and sleep, my son, and gather
strength for the burdens of to-morrow." Aodh
shook his head hopelessly, but the kind sleep
came whether he would or no, and Miledh
slept too, and soundly, with his head resting
on the foot of Una's couch.
The next day, and the next, the rowers
were forbidden by Aodh to keen for Una, but
the priests took harp and tympan, and striking
these they brought Una with royal music up
the untrodden pathway of the river, and with
the same music carried her up the hill side and
142
laid her at her sister's feet in the high hall of
Brefny. Then there was wailing of women,
and hurried speech among the men, but over
all the clamour rose high the music of the
priests, and the voice of Aodh singing the
bridal song of Una of Ullad. And when it
was done, he fell as a stricken tree falls, and
Adamnan caught him in his arms, and carried
him away to his chamber : and there for many
days he tended him with wizard charms and
incantations. But always he lay as one that
is dead, but for the light in his eyes and the
speech of his lips, and when the Prince felt his
heart to see if it beat, lo, it beat not at all :
so the Lady Eiver cried out that it was a
devil dwelling in the dead body of Aodh, and
she fled from the chamber, and would not look
upon him again. And when Fergus would
speak with him of old battles, there was no
memory in him, and no knowledge : and when
Brighid, the wife of Fergus, wept over him for
the sake of childish days when they had played
together, he put her from him, smiling, and
said a word that only Adamnan could under-
stand — how he had given youth and love away.
And always he went encompassed with dreams,
even when he stood beside his father in the
forefront of the battle, and saw Fergus fall,
with an arrow in his heart : and when Adamnan
H3
died, being full of days, and the people came
to crown him, the dreams held him still.
When seventy years had passed, and he wore
a boy's face still under his gray hair, he called
about him the wisest Ollavs and bade them try
their spells to release him from his weary body,
and set him free to sleep beside Una of Ullad.
But their spells and charms were useless : so
once more Aodh took boat down the Shannon,
and once more thrust open the gilded door of
the Heroes' House. And if he died there,
and found Una of Ullad, or if he lives there
still I do not know : but the people of Brefny
still speak of a noble gift as the "gift of Una,"
though of the greater gifts of Aodh they do
not speak. But in the House of the Heroes
the gifts are remembered every one : and the
name of Aodh is honoured as is the name of
Diarmuid.
144
Lament of the Lay Brother.
u
Lament of the Lay Brother.
(a.d. 598.)
lona, lonci^
My days go sad and slow^
For mid your island meadows
I hear no cattle low.
I miss the fields of Kerry .,
The green fields and the l{ine^
And in my brothers^ chanting
Is heard no voice of mine —
lona^ O lona !
lona^ O lona.,
My mates are glad of cheer..
But I, the Kerry peasant.,
Dwell sad and lonely here.
I send an exile^s sighing
Across the sundering sea ;
O would I were in Kerry ^
Or the ^ine were here with me !
H7
lona^ O lona^
The Saint sleeps well^ I trow^
Nor dreams that one poor brother's
Hearthroke for Ireland now —
Heartbroke to be a herd-boy
And watch the cattle feed^
And call the cattle homewards
Across the darkening mead,
lonay O lonay
All summer swallows stay
About your towers : the seagulls
To Ireland take their way.
And would^ I cry with weepings
The seagulls' road were mine —
To hear and see the lowing^
The l{ind eyes of the kjne I
lona^ lona I
148
The Four Kings.
THE FOUR KINGS.
" There is a curse upon us," the men of
Glandore whispered among themselves, as they
stood watchincT the sun go redly to his set-
ting one Friday evening some centuries ago.
" There's a curse upon us, sure, for haven't we
crowned a new king every season this year?
Earrach was in its last month when we were
bringing out our skenes for King Brian ; then
comes the fever, and King Rory stands up
with his foot on his brother's grave. Rory was
King all Samhradh, and when Foghmhar came
to us we were kingless, and the hand of the
Queen was heavy on us till we chose Brian's
child our lord. And now Geimhridh is on us :
and the child Feargus is lost, and heavier on
us than the Queen's hand is the hand of the
Queen's new mate, Oscur of Glandore. And
151
to-night is King Oscur sick to death, and we
shall surely hear Cleena's wave boom out
yonder in the harbour : for evil though Oscur
be, he is King in Glandore, and Cleena's wave
sounds always for the death of a king in Erin."
But the women whispered a different story, as
they sat spinning over the peat-fires : and their
tongues lashed only the name of the Queen,
Maive, and softly they spoke of the King who
lay a-dying, for he had borne a comely face and
a gracious presence, and he had been lavish
both of gold and gentle speeches, wherefore
they forgot the dreamer King Brian, and the
soldier Rory, and the kidnapped Feargus had
no place in their thoughts. One only thought
of him and cursed Fair Oscur : and she sat,
laying on him evil wishes, and praying not to
Christ or Mary, but to the Dada Mor and to
Lug that the ghosts of Brian and Brian's child,
and Rory the Fighter might stand by his bed-
side, and whisper his black deeds over one by
one. As she sat, thus, her daughter sat near
her, spinning, busy with thoughts and prayers
of her own, as kind and innocent as her mother's
were dark and desperate. And as she spun
she sang a song which the Queen had made in
the days when she was King Brian's new-wed
wife, and had never seen Fair Oscur's ill-omened
beauty.
152
" I took to me the Flower of Sorrow,
Half-Summer, World's-delight :
I snatched crushed poppies from the furrow,
And kissed their red to white.
I bound the Dew-Thief* with the Mallow,
And Goldilocks with Rue :
And thro' deep glens and waters shallow
I follow after you."
" Stop singinof, colleen dhas," said the
mother, after a little space. " And go you to
the door, for there's a hand knocking at it."
" Mother alanna ! " the crirl cried, letting
her wheel run slower, " it is Friday night : and
this is a gentle place."
"Goto the door,and let inwhoever knocks,"
said the mother angrily, and Maurya obeyed.
She let down the bar and lifted the latch, with
her heart in her mouth : then, as she saw the
figure standing outside in the windy twilight,
her fear died down, for there was nothing
alarming in the gentle deprecating face that
met hers.
" I have come far to-niorht," the visitor
said softly, " and the wind was against me all
the way. May I come in and rest beside your
fire, Vanitha ? " Maurya glanced at her
mother, but she gave neither word nor sign in
answer : and so the girl answered, doubtfully,
* Sundew.
153 X
*' Come in : and the Vanitha will make you
kindly welcome when she breaks her dream.
Come in, and sit by the fire." She filled a cup
with milk, and chose out the best of their
scanty stock of potatoes for the stranger's
platter : and then, having watched him eat and
drink, she went back to her spinning and her
song, but somehow both had changed, though
not to her ears or eyes. Yet to her mother's
brooding gaze the thread beside her girl's stool
was of the finest, and shone like white silver,
while instead of the Queen's song she chanted
strange words to a tune that was infinitely old
— older than the wild people of the Fomoroh.
" Spindrift and Foam," she sang :
'* And the wind and the sail new-wedded, and the
frost on a ringing strand,
" And the sea-spirits staying us, spurring us, and
the wood spirits caUing us a-land,
" We returned, we returned, and were not welcome :
we went forth again with empty heart and hand :
" We returned and found our cars by strangers
driven, we returned and found our ships by aliens
manned,
" We returned to the spindrift and the foam, my
grief! and again shall we return to the land — "
"Who sang that song last.'*" asked the
guest, as he stooped over the peat-fire : and the
wise woman said, softly and unwillingly, " Kasar,
154
lady of the Fomoroh, whom the strength of the
De Danann slew. And better had the song
slept with her." "How know you that, Vani-
tha ? " But the mother did not answer ; but
listened broodino- while her daughter sansf on,
knowing not what she sang : and over the
burning peats the guest bent, holding out thin
white hands to the warmth, and staring at the
smoke with dreamy eyes. And Maurya sang
on her burden of the "Spindrift and Foam"
verse after verse, till she dropped into a lower
key at the seventh verse. And now there was
knocking again at the door : but now it was
opened from without, and a tall man came in,
shaking the rain from his mantle.
"Wild weather, Mother:" he said, "wild
weather for house-keepers and worse for travel-
lers. How wears the world with you since we
met ? "
"111 enough, Rory Oge," said the wise
woman, as she put her own stool near the fire
for the newcomer, "and well enough, belike.
Will you drink or eat ? "
" Not I, Mother : there is work to do."
" I saw it a-doing in my dreams, Rory
Oge."
"You were ever a dreamer. Mother: but
your dreams all came true." Rory Oge stood
up and threw off his cloak, and Maurya saw
155
that he had a child in his arms, a deHcate
pretty boy with elfish black eyes, whose face she
thouoht she knew.
" There," he said, as he unclasped the
little hands from about his neck, "a king must
stand alone. And now there is no more help
in me for you, little heart." The quiet figure
stooping over the fire lifted his face now, and
there was in the gentle eyes a light that made
Maurya's heart-strings tighten as the ghost of
King Brian held out eager arms to his living
child. The boy's black eyes dilated, and caught
some of the light in his father's, and the two
cluno- together for a longr minute. Then Kins:
Brian lifted his head, and saw the look of pity
in King Rory's brown face. " The way will be
light back to Tir na n'Og to-night," he said.
" I could even forgive Fair Oscur now."
" Forgive him if you will, my brother,"
Rory Oge said very gently. " But we must go
back to Tir na n'Og alone."
King Brian's arms tightened round the
boy : but he did not speak for a moment.
Then he said doubtfully, " Is he not beyond all
care, even as we are ? "
" Look on the ground, and see," said
Rory Oge. And his brother looked and saw,
and bowed his head dumbly : for their two
figures cast no darkness on the wooden floor,
156
but the shadow of little King Feargus lay black
at his feet.
Then the door opened wide once more :
and the last guest came in — a tall slender youth
wearing the "gentle" colour, green, and with a
torque of twisted gold about his neck : and at
sioht of this orallant figrure the wise woman
shrieked out a curse, but Maurya fell a-sobbing,
for she knew now that Oscur the Fair was
dead, and that this was but his ghost come to
meet the souls of the twain who had died by
him. " Look at him," screamed the Vanitha.
" Dada Mor and Lug Lamfada ! wither him
with living, and curse him with eternal life !
Let him be wandering betwixt fire and frost
when the oentle folk have locked themselves
within the orates of Tir na n'Ocf."
"We have no will to punish thee :" the
Kings said together, as Oscur the Fair made
them a mocking salute, "though ours it was to
bear the wrong. But we are the hands of the
Gentle People, O Oscur, and their voice speaks
for to-night through the lips of yonder woman.
Fe eternal life thy punishment." For a moment
Oscur's gay and gallant bearing failed him, and
Maurya hid her eyes from the anguish that aged
and altered his beautiful face : and then she
looked up once more as his answer rang boldly
out. " I have planted flints on my road for
157
myself, and I will walk on them an I must. Is
your sentence finished, O ye my judges ? "
" Ask the woman yonder," Rory Oge said
curtly : and the Vanitha cried out, " Sharp
shall the flints be, O Oscur, and sore to thy
feet : and yet sorer shall it be to thee to know
that feet walk and bleed beside thine — feet of
one whom thou dost love. And this is the
judgment of Them that sit in the golden houses
of Sidh Femin and Sidh Meadha."
" But — " Oscur said, looking at her with
a half-smile on his lips, " I love no one, Vanitha :
and this I swear by Her who sits in a golden
house at Carrig Cleena, and whose voice I
heard to-nig^ht as — as I died. I must walk the
flints alone, Vanitha : and even the Shee
cannot put love into my heart now I am dead."
" Didst thou love no woman ere death
touched thee, Oscur the Fair ? " Rory Oge
said quickly. " Truly, then, thou hast missed
much delight."
"I have sung many serca (love-songs)"
Oscur answered, " But I have loved no woman,
and for this one gift held back I thank whatever
gods may be. It is easier for a man to walk
the flints alone."
" Art sure that thou didst love no woman ? "
the Vanitha asked, speaking as if the words
were forced from her lips against her will.
i;58
" Look on my daughter's face, Oscur of Glan-
dore, and call to mind a day when she crossed
thy hunting-path, and found thee hurt, giving
thee to drink of the new milk."
Maurya came forward a step or two, her
face pale as death — paler than Oscur of Glan-
dore's.
"Does my lord remember?" she said.
" For that one day my name was ' Creevin Cno '
(Cluster of nuts !) " Oscur of Glandore looked
steadily at her for a moment or two : then he
turned deliberately to the mother. " I do not
remember, Vanitha," he* said coldly : and
Maurya flashed a swift look at him from eyes
half-drowned with tears. "It is no use, my
lord," she whispered. " The Shee saw and
heard, that day : and if I were good to kiss
and praise that day, I am good to follow my
lord over the flints to-night."
" Is it indeed no use.^ " Oscur said, softly.
" Must you go a-wandering, Creevin Cno,
because one day in my life I saw your white
soul clearly ? "
"Yes: and ask no better," Maurya said
passionately. " Lord, let us go : I cannot
stand by and hear these judge you who do not
know."
" They know me better than you, belike,
white heart," Oscur said, still softly. " Is it
159
your will to come, Creevin Cno ? Remember
that 'tis the mating of flesh and shadow."
" I know," Maurya murmured, "but if the
flesh love the shadow — "
The door swung open and the night
swallowed them up.
1 60
Lament of the Last Leprechaun.
Lament of the Last Leprechaun.
For the red shoon of the Shee^
For the falling o' the leaf
For the wind among the recds^
My grief !
For the sorrow of the sea^
For the song's unquict^ned seeds^
For the sleeping of the Shee^
My grief I
For dishonoured whitethorn-tree^
For the runes that no man reads^
Where the gray stones face the sea^
My grief f
Lissal(eole^ that used to he
Filled with music night and noon^
For their ancient revelry,,
My grief !
For the empty fairy shoon ^
Hollow rath and yellow leaf;
Hands un pissed to sun or moon :
My grief— my grief!
163
Aonan-na-Righ.
AONAN-NA-RIGH.
AoNAN-NA-RiGH they called him in Tir Ailella* —
" Darlino- of the Kins:" — but it w^is in idle
sport, for Cathal the Red hated the son of his
old age as men now have forgotten to hate ;
and once Aonan had sprung from his sleep
with a sharp skene thrust through his arm, that
had meant to drink his life-blood ; and once
again he had found himself alone in the heart
of the battle, and he had scarcely won out of
the press with his life — and with the standard
of the Danish enemy. Thus it was seen that
neither did the Danish spears love the " King's
Darling"; and the sennachies made a song of
this, and it was chanted before the King for
the first time when he sat robed and crowned
for the Beltane feast, and Aonan stood at his left
hand, pouring out honey-wine into his father's
cup. And before he drank, Cathal the King
* Now Tirerrill, Cu. Sligo.
167
stared hard at the cup-bearer, and the red light
that burned in his eyes was darkened because
of the Hkeness in Aonan's face to his mother
Acaill (dead and buried long since), whom
Cathal had loved better than his first wife
Eiver, who was a king's daughter, and better
than the Danish slave Astrild, who bore him
five sons, elder and better-loved than Aonan,
for all the base blood in their veins. Of these,
two were dead in the battle that had spared
Aonan, and there were left to Cathal the King
only the Druid Coloman, Toran the boaster,
and Guthbinn of the sweet voice, who as yet
was too young to fight.
" Drink, Aonan-na-Righ," shrilled Astrild
from her seat at the King's left hand. " Drink :
lest there be death in the cup."
Aonan took up the golden cup, and gave
her back smile for smile. " I drink," he said,
" to my mother, Acaill of Orgiall."
But the King snatched the cup from his
finger, and dashed it down on the board, so that
the yellow mead spilled and stained Astrild's
cloak ; but she did not dare complain, for there
was the red light in Cathal's eyes that was
wont to make the boldest afraid.
" Bring me another cup," he said to one
that stood near. "And now, will none of ye
do honour to the toast of Aonan-na-Righ ?
i68
Bring ye also a cup for the prince ; and, Guth-
binn, put your harp aside."
So in silence they drank to the memory of
Acaill of Orgiall, and afterwards they sought to
spin together the threads of their broken mirth,
but not easily, for Astrild, who was wont to be
gayest, sat pale, with her hand on the knife
hidden in her breast ; and the King sat dumb
and frowning, thinking, as Astrild knew, of
dead Acaill : how he had loved and hated her,
and, having slain her father and brothers, and
brought her to Dunna Scaith a Golden Hostage
wearing a golden chain, he had wedded her
for her beauty's sake ; how until her child was
born she had never so much as smiled or
frowned for him ; and how, when her babe lay
in her arms, she sent for her husband, and
said : "I thank thee, Cathal, who hast set me
free by means of this babe. I bless thee for
this last gift of thine, who for all thine other
gifts have cursed thee." And Cathal remem-
bered how he had held babe and mother to his
heart, and said : " Good to hear soft words from
thy mouth at last, O Acaill ! Speak again to
me, and softly." But she had not answered,
for her first soft words to him were her last.
Astrild, watching him, saw his face grow black
and angry, and she smiled softly to herself, and
aloud she said :
169 z
*' Oh, Guthbinn, sing again, and sing of
thy brothers who fell to-day — sing of Oscar,
the swift in battle, and Uaithne, of the dark
eyes. And will my lord give leave that I, their
mother, go to weep for them in my own poor
house where they were born ? "
" No," said Cathal. " I bought you and
your tears, girl, with gold rings, from Ocaill of
Connaught. Sing to me now, and keep thy
tears for to-morrow." So Astrild drove back
her sorrow, and began to sing, while her son
Guthbinn plucked slow music from his harp-
strings.
" Earrach, Samhradh, Foghmhar, and Geimhridh,
Are over all and done :
And now the web forgets the weaver,
And earth forgets the sun.
I sowed no seed, and pulled no blossom,
Ate not of the green corn :
With empty hands and empty bosom,
Behold, I stand forlorn.
Windflower I sang, and Flower o' Sorrow,
Half-Summer, World's Delight :
I took no thought o' the coming morrow,
No care for the coming night."
Guthbinn's hand faltered on the harpstrings, and
the singer stopped swiftly : but King Cathal
stayed the tears in her heart with an angry
word. " Have I not always had my will .-^ And
it is not my will now for you to weep." So
170
Astrild sat still, and she looked at her sons :
but Toran was busy boasting of the white neck
and blue eyes of the new slave-girl he had
won; Coloman was dreaming, as he sat with his
eyes on the stars that showed through the open
door : and only Guthbinn met her eyes and
answered them, though he seemed to be busy
with his harp. And presently Cathal rose up,
bidding all keep their seats and finish out the
feast, but Astrild and Aonan he bade follow
him. And so they went into the farthest chamber
of the House of Shields, which looked upon a
deep ditch. Now the end of the chamber was
a wall of wattles, and here there was cut a door
that led out on a high bank which overlooked
the ditch. The King went out upon the bank;
where there was a chair placed ready for
him, and Astrild sat at his knee, and Aonan-
na-Righ stood a little way off. And Cathal sat
still for a time, holding Astrild's hand in his,
and presently he said : " Who put the death in
the cup to-night, Astrild, thou or Guthbinn ? "
Astrild tried to draw her hand away and to
rise, but he held her in her place, and asked
again, " Guthbinn, or thou ? " until she answered
him sullenly as she knelt, " King, it was I."
" Belike, Guthbinn's hand did thy bidding,"
he said, in lauofhincr fashion. " Was the death
for me or for Aonan yonder, thou Red-Hair?"
171
And Astrild laughed as she answered,
" For Aonan-na-Righ, my lord." And then
she shrieked and sought to rise, for she saw
death in the king's face as it bent over her.
"If thou hadst sought to slay thy master,
Red- Hair, I might have forgiven thee," Cathal
said ; "but what had my son to do with thee,
my light-o'-love ? "
" Give me a day," Astrild said desperately,
"and I will kill father and son, and set the
light-o'-love's children on your throne, Cathal."
" I doubt it not, my wild-cat, but I will not
give ye the day:" Cathal laughed. "Good
courage, girl — and call thy Danish gods to aid,
for there is none other to help thee, now."
"What will my lord do.'*" Aonan said
quickly, as the Dane turned a white face and
flaming eyes to him. " Wouldst kill her ? "
"Ay," said Cathal the King. " But first
she shall leave her beauty behind her, lest she
meet thy mother in the Land of Youth, and
Acaill be jealous."
" Leave her beauty and breath, lord,"
Aonan said, drawing nearer. " If my mother
Acaill lived she would not have her slain.
My king, she pleased thee once ; put her from
thee if she vexes thee now ; but leave her life,
since something thou owest her."
" She would have slain thee to-day, Aonan,
172
and if I have dealt ill by thee, I let no other
deal thus. Yet if thou prayest me for thy life,
girl, for love of Acaill I will give it thee."
And Cathal laughed, for he knew the Dane
would not plead in that name, Astrild laughed
too. "Spare thy breath, son of Acaill," she
said scornfully. " To-morrow the cord may be
round thy neck, and thou be in need of breath ;
now lord, the cord for mine — "
Cathal smiled grimly.
" Blackheartj" he said, " thou hast no lack
of courage. Now up," and he loosened her
hands, "and fly if thou wilt — swim the ditch,
and get thee to Drumcoll-choille — and Guthbinn
shall die in thy stead. What ^ Thou wouldst
liefer die } Back then to yonder chamber,
where my men will deal with thee as I have
ordered, and be as patient as in thee lies. A
kiss first, Red-Hair; and hearken from yonder
chamber if thou wilt, while Aonan sings a dirge
for thee."
She went ; and presently there rang from
within the chamber the shrill scream of a
woman's agony, and Cathal laughed to see
Aonan's face turn white. " She is not as
patient as thou," he said, " but she will learn.
Keep thou my word to her, Aonan : sing a
dirge for her beauty a-dying."
" I cannot sing," Aonan-na-Righ said,
1/3
shivering as there rose another shriek. " Let
them slay her, my lord, and have done."
" My will runs otherwise," said Cathal,
smiling. " Sing, if thou lovest thy life."
" My lord knows that I do not," Aonan
answered ; and Cathal smiled again.
" Belike not ; but sing and lessen the
Dane's punishment. When the song is finished
she shall be released, and even tended well."
So Aonan sano^ the sons;- of the Dane-land
over the water, and the Danes that died in the
Valley of Keening — which is now called
Waterford ; of the white skin and red hair of
Astrild ; of her grace and daring ; of the sons
that lay dead on the battleplace ; of Coloman
the dreamer that read the stars ; and of the
beautiful boy whose breast was a nest of night-
ingales. And then he sang — more softly — of
the Isle of the Noble where Acaill dwelt, and
how she would have shadowed Astrild with her
pity if she had lived ; and then he stopped
sinsrinsf and knelt before the Kin^, dumb for a
moment with the passion of his pity, for from
the open door they could hear a woman moan-
ino- still.
" Lord," he said, "make an end. My life
for hers-^if a life the king must have ; or my
pain for hers — if the King must need feed his
ears with cries."
174
"Graciously spoken, and like Acaill's son,''
Kinor Cathal said. " And Astrild shall be set
free. You within the chamber take the Dane
to her son the lord Coloman's keeping ; and
thou, my son Aonan, tarry here till I return. I
may have a fancy to send thee with a message
to thy mother before dawn. Nay, but come
with me, and we will go see Coloman, and ask
how his mother does. Give me thine arm to
lean on ; I am tired, I am old, and an end has
come to my pleasure in slaying. . . . Col-
oman ! "
They were in Coloman's chamber now,
and the Druid turned from star-o-azin<.r to street
the King, with a new dark look in his gentle
face. " Coloman, how^ does thy mother do
/ now ? She had grown too bold in her pride,
but we did not slay her because of Aonan here.
How works our medicine that we desicrned to
temper her beauty ? "
" Well, lord. No man will kiss my mother's
beauty more."
"Good: now she will turn her feet into
ways of gentleness, perhaps. Thou boldest me
a grudge for this medicine o' mine, my son
Coloman ? "
" Lord, she is my mother," the Druid said,
looking down.
" The scars will heal," Cathal said ; but —
175
Aonan here has only seen her beautiful. Colo-
man, wouldst thou have him see her scarred
and foul to see ? "
" No, lord," the Druid said fiercely. Cathal
laughed.
" Have a gift of me, then, O Coloman,"
he said. " Spare him from sight of a marred
beauty, in what way thou canst. I give thee
his eyes for thy mother's scars."
The two young men looked at each other
steadily : then Aonan spoke. "Take the pay-
ment that the King offers thee, Coloman, with-
out fear : a debt is a debt."
" And the debt is heavy."
Coloman said hoarsely : " Lord, wilt thou
go and leave Aonan-na-Righ to me? And wilt
thou send to me thy cunning men, Flathartach
and Fadhar.f* I must have help."
"Aonan-na-Righ will not hinder thee, Co-
loman," said the King, mockingly. " He
desires greatly to meet with his mother : and
do thou commend me also to the Lady Eivir,
whom I wedded first, and who loved me
well."
" Call me also to thy mother's memory,"
Toran the boaster cried presently, when all
was made ready, and Coloman bade draw the
irons from the brazier — "if thou goest so far,
Darling of the King."
176
" I will remember," Aonan said : and then
fire and flesh met.
*****
At the next Beltane feast Cathal the Red
slept beside Acaill in the burial-place of the
kinoes at Bruc^h, and Guthbinn sat in the high
seat, Toran the boaster at his right hand. But
Coloman the Druid stood on the tower-top,
reading- the faces of the stars ; and along the
road that wound its dusty way to the country
of the Golden Hostages there toiled two dark
figures : a woman and a man. Now the woman
was hooded and masked, but under the gray
hood the moonlight found a gleam of ruddy
hair ; and the man she led by the hand and
/ watched over as a mother watches her son.
Yet the woman was Danish Astrild, and the
blind man was Aonan-na-Righ.
177 AA
Glossary,
GLOSSARY.
Bri^it.
o
There were three famous women of this name, not
akin to either St. Bridget or the Bridget who was
goddess of wisdom. The third of the name was Brigit
Ambui, who procured for Irish women a part of succes-
sion : i.e., a third part of the estate if there were no
/ sons to inherit.
Brighid.
This Brighid was goddess of wisdom among the
De Dananns : she was daughter of Aongus the Young,
Master of Love.
Clan Colla.
Hostages taken from this clan (descended from the
three Collas, grandsons of King Cairbre Liffechar, and
famous in Ulster, Connaught, Meath, and Scotland) had
a right to wear golden fetters, and were called Orgiallans
or Golden Hostages. The King of the Clan Colla had
also the right to sit next to the High Kinsr of Ireland.
o*^
i8i
Dagde.
Head of the De Danann gods : Master of Wealth
and giver of good fortune. He is Master of the Dead,
too ; and wears a grey cloak and rides a grey horse like
Odin of the North.
Dark Joan.
A wandering fairy, who occasionally adopts the
extraordinary disguise of a clutch of chickens.
Diarmuid O'Duibhne.
Or Dermot O'Dyna : one of the chief Fenian heroes.
In ballads and legends he plays a very prominent part,
with Grania, Fionn's wife, whom he loved and carried
off from Fionn.
Dust Dancing.
When the dust dances or dead leaves whirl by, the
Folk of Faerie are passing, and it is well to draw back
from the road, and give them place.
Drum-coll-choille.
Old name for DubHn. It means " At the back of
the hazel-wood."
Earrach (Arragh.)
Spring,
Flower of Sorrow.
Stitchwort.
182
Foghmhar (Fowar).
Autumn. i
I
Geimhridh (Gevre). |
Winter.
I
Gentle Colour.
Green. The word gentle is used in some parts of
Ireland to signify things " elfin " or of fairy origin.
Geasa.
Bonds under which the heroes were frequently put.
Thus : the fairy Niamh laid Oisin under geasa not to
dismount from his fairy steed lest old age should come
suddenly upon him : Dermot O'Dyna was under geasa
not to hunt the boar.
Greenan.
The sunny chamber where the lady of the house
spent the daylight hours, working among her women.
The Hounds.
These were devil-dogs which lay in wait for the
passing soul, to catch and devour it on its way to the
Judgment-seat. For three hours after death, therefore,
the keeners refrained from wailing over the dead lest
these ban-dogs should be awakened.
Half-Summer.
Wallflower.
183
Saint Ide.
She is the Bridget of Munster ; and was the first to
build a convent on Munster soil. Its site is called
Killedy to this day, although the name of the Saint has
almost passed from the memory of Limerick folk.
Kasar.
She was a queen, and afterwards a goddess, among
the Fomoroh, or Fomorians, the forgotten giant race of
hunters and fishers who wore through the dark time
before the dawn of Irish history.
Kathaleen Ny-Houiahan.
One of the many mythical names of Ireland.
Kistvaen.
A rude stone coffin wherein either the unburnt
body, or the urn full of ashes was disposed. The kist-
vaens were never buried very deeply, but were placed
near the surface of the earth.
Leprechaun.
A little fairy cobbler, who sits clouting elfin shoes
under hedges in the summer-time. Kept carefully in
sight he will discover buried treasure to his persecutor :
but he is wily and a tricksy spirit, and the treasure does
not often pass into human hands.
Lug Lamfada.
The Irish Mercury : patron of arts and artificers.
He was lord, too, of wit and cunning.
184-
Lament of the Lay Brother.
' Where cattle are there are milkmaids, and woman
is the root of all evil,' said St. Columba : and he refused
to allow his monks to pasture their kine in the green
meadows of lona : a refusal which the lay brothers
must have much lamented as they looked down on the
empty meadows.
Lissakeole.
Certain haunted raths in the south of Ireland,
where fairy music may sometimes yet be heard.
Whoever chances to hear this " Ceol-Sidhe " loses all
passion of hate and love, and cares for nothing br.t the
music in his ears, and wastes to death with the desire
and delight of it.
Manannan.
God of the seas around Ireland. The Isle of Man
was one of his enchanted islands : and all the merrows
(mermaids) in Irish waters owed allegiance to him.
Quicken.
This, the mountain ash, is one of the holiest trees
of Irish tradition. It is sacred to the Gentle People,
and in the Isle of the Blessed the happy dead dwell
under " woven roofs of quicken boughs ''as W. B. Yeats
has exquisitely described in "A Man that Dreamed of
Fairyland."
Res geal dhu !
Another name of Ireland. Its literal meaning is (I.
think) the Beautiful Dark Rose.
185 BD
Silk of the Kine.
Another metaphorical name for Ireland.
Samhradh (Sowra).
Summer.
Tympan.
A small stringed instrument, played like a violin.
Una of the West.
Una is queen over the Shee or Fairy-Folk of the
western parts of Ireland : but she shares her sovereignty
with a great many other fairy monarchs : Finarra,
Cleena, Eerin, Donal Gealach, Macananty, Mab, and
many others who rule a shadowy people from a shadowy
throne.
Worlds Delight.
Dog-violet.
i86
I WISH here to acknowledge the kindness of the
PubHsher of The Yellow Book in allowing me to re-
print the "Lament of the Last Leprechaun" and
" Aonanna-Righ " from the October quarterly num.
ber : and also to thank the Proprietors of Household
Words and Sylvia s jfournal for their courtesy in per-
mitting me to reproduce " Daluan " and " Boholaun
and I," which appeared in their respective journals.
^^r%.
Printed by R. Fdkard & Sm,
II, Devonihirt St., ^uttn Sq.f London,
List of Books
IN
elles Lettres
lOHh LAME PUB
ILISHER-yBELml
LETTKej"«V.V^>
'TmeBODLEYHEAdI
VIG0 5TL<^NDorN^
All the Books in this Catalogue
are Published at Net Prices
j8g4h^
Telegraphic Jlddress
'Bodleian^ London
December^ iSg^.
List of Books
IN
BELLES LETTRES
(Ifzcludwg some Transfers)
I Published by John Lane
Vigo Street, London, W.
H.B. — TAe Authors and Publisher reserve the right of reprinting any
book in this list if a new edition i» called for, except in cases where a stipu-
lation has been made to the contrary, and of printing a separate edition of
any of the books for A merica ir~rcspectiz<e of the nu>nb^7-s to which the
English editions are liviited. The numbers mentioned do not include
copies sent to the public libraries, nor those sent for rczneiv.
Most of the books are fiubiished simultaneously in Etighitid and America,
and in many instances the names of the American publishers are appended.
ADAMS (FRANCIS).
Essays in Modernity. Cr. 8vo. 5^. nel. [S/iorl/j/.
Chicago : Stone i^ Kiiiiball.
ADAMS (FRANCIS).
A Child of the Age. Cr. 8vo. 35^. 67. nel.
(See Keynotes Series.) \Iinmediaiely.
Boston : Roberts Bros.
THE rUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE
ALLEN {GRANT).
The Lower Slopes : A Volume of Verse. With title-page
and cover design by J. Illingworth Kay. 6cx) copies.
Cr. 8vo. 5^^. ne!.
Chicago ; Stone &° KhyibalL
ALLEN {GRANT).
The Woman Who Did. Cr. 8vo. y. 6d. net.
{See Keynotes Series.) [/« rapid preparation.
Boston : Roberts Bros.
BEARDSLEY (AUBRET).
The Story of Venus and Tannhauser, in which is
set forth an exact account of the Manner of State held
by Madam Venus, Goddess and Meretrix, under the
famous Horselberg, and containing the adventures of
Tannhauser in that place, his repentance, his journeying
to Kome, and return to the loving Mountain. By
Aubrey Beardsley. With 20 full-page illustrations,
numerous ornaments, and a cover from the same hand.
Sq. l6mo. lOj'. 6d. net. \_ln preparation.
BEECHING {Re-v. H. C).
In a Garden : Poems. With a specially-designed title-
page, Cr. 8vo. 5 J-, tiet. \^ln preparation.
BENSON {ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER).
Lyrics. Fcap. 8vo. ^s. net. \_In rapid preparation.
BROTHERTON (MART).
Rosemary for Remembrance. With title-page designed
by Walter West. Fcap. 8vo. 5^-. net.
[/« rapid preparation.
DAEMON {C. fV.).
Song Favours. With a specially-designed title-page.
Sq. l6mo. ^s. 6d. net. \_I}i preparation.
D'ARCr {ELLA).
A Volume uf Stories, Cr. Svo. 3^. 6d. net.
\_In preparation.
{See Keynotes Series.)
Boston: Roberts Bros.
THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE
DAVIDSON (JOHN).
Plays : An Unhistorical Pastoral ; A Romantic Farce
Bruce, a Chu-onicle Play ; Smith, a Tragic Farce ;
Scaramouch in Naxos, a Pantomime. Willi a frontis-
piece and cover design by Aubrey Beardslb:y.
Printed at the Ballantyne Press. 500 copies. Sm. 4to.
ys. 6d. net.
Chicago : Slone &^ Kimball.
DAVIDSON {JOHN).
Fleet St. Eclogues. 2nd edition. Fcap. 8vo., buckram.
55. 7ief.
t DAVIDSON (JOHN).
A Random Itinerary and a Ballad. With a frontis-
piece and title-page by Laurence HousiMAN.. 600
copies. Fcap. bvo., Irish linen, ^s. net.
Boston : Copeland 6-= Day.
DAVIDSON [JOHN).
The North Wall. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.
The frw remaining copies transferred by the Author to the
present Fublisher.
DAVIDSON {JOHN).
Ballads and Songs. With title-page designed by W^alter
West. Fcap. 8vo., buckram. 55. net.
Boston : Copeland &^ Day.
DE TABLET (LORD).
Poems, Dramatic and Lyrical. By John Leicester
Warren (Lord De Tabley). Illustrations and cover
design by C. S. RiCKh.TTS. 2nd edition. Cr. 8vo.
"js. 6d. net.
DE TABLET {LORD).
New Poems. Cr. 8vo. ^s. net. \^ln preparation.
EGERTON {GEORGE).
Keynotes. 6th edition. Cr. Svo. 3^'. 6d. net.
{See Keynotes Series.)
Boston : /Roberts Bros.
THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE
EGERTON (GEORGE).
Discords. Cr. 8vo, y. 6d. net.
{See Keynotes Series.) [/« rapid preparation.
Boston : Roberts Bros.
EGERrON (GEORGE).
Young Ofeg's Ditties. A translation from the Swedish
of Ola Hansson. Cr. Svo. 35. 6/. net.
\_In pieparaiion.
FARR (FLORENCE).
The Dancing Faun. Cr. Svo. 35. 6c/. net.
(See Ke.ynotes Series.)
Boston : Roberts Bros.
FLETCHER (J. S.).
The Wonderful Wapentake. By "A Son of the
Soil." With 18 full-page illustrations on Japanese
vellum, by J. A. SYMINGTON. Cr. 8vo. 5.f. 0</. nd.
[In rapid preparation.
GALE (NORMAN).
Orchard Si:>ngs, with title-page and cover design by
J. Illingworth Kay. Fcap. 8vo., Irish linen.
5.S. 7tet.
Also a special edition, limited in number, on hand-made
paper, bound in English vellum, /^l. is. net.
New York : G. f. fiUnanCs Sons.
GARNETT (RICHARD).
PoEiMS. With title-page by J, Ilungworth Kay. 350
copies. Cr. Svo. ^s. net.
Boston ; Copeland <^ Day.
GOSSE (EDMUND).
The Letters of Thomas Lovell Beddoes. Now
first edited. Pott Svo. ^s. net.
New York : Alacniillan Q^ Co.
GRAHAME (KENNETH).
Pagan Papers : A Volume of Essays. With title-page
by Aubrey Beardsley. Fcap. Svo. 5^". net.
Chicago : Stone &■ Kimball.
THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE
GREENE (G. A.).
Italian Lyrists of To-Day. Translations in the origi-
nal metres from about 35 living Italian poets ; with bibli-
ographical and biographical notes. Cr. 8vo. 5'''- '^''^•
N'ew York : Macmilla)i S^ Co,
GKEEHWOOD (FREDERICK).
Imagination in Dreams. Cr. 8vo. 5^. nef.
[In rapid preparation:
HAKE {T. GORDON).
A Selection from his Poems. Edited by Mrs. Mey-
NELL, with a portrait after D. G. Rossetti, and a
t cover design by Gleeson White. Cr. 8vo, 5.?. net.
Chicago: Stone dr' Kimball.
HARLAND (HENRY).
The Bohemian Girl, and Other Stories. Cr. 8vo.
35. 6(1. net. {See KEYNOTES Seriesj. [/n preparation.
Boston : Roberts Bros.
HATES {ALFRED).
The Vale of Arden, and Other Poems. With a
title-page designed by E. II. New. Fcap. 8vo. 3^. 6d.
fiet. [In preparation.
HEINEMANN {WILLIAM).
The First Step : A Dramatic Moment. Sm. 4to.
3^. 6d. net. \_Immediately,.
HOPPER (NORA).
Ballads in Prose. With a title-page and cover by
Walter West. Sq. i6mo. 5i-. 7iet.
Boston : Roberts Bros.
IRVING (LAURENCE).
Godefroi and Yolande : A Play. With 3 illustrations
by Aubrey Beardsley. Sm. 410. ^s. ne:.
[/« preparation .
JAMES (IV. P.).
Romantic Professions : A volume of Essays. With
title-page designed by J. ILLINGWORTH Kay. Cr. 8vo.
55. net.
New York: Macmillan Or" Co.
THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN I.ANE
JOHNSON {LIONEL).
The Art of Thomas Hardy. Six Essays, with etched
portrait by Wm. Strang, and Bibliography by John
Lane. Cr. 8vo. Buckram. 55. 6d. nd.
Also 150 copies, large paper, with proofs of the
portrait. £,\. \s. net. \jfust published.
Ne-cv York : Dodd, Mead 6- Co
JOHNSON (PAULINE).
White Wampum : Poems. Cr. 8vo. 5^. net.
\_Jii preparation.
JOHNSTONE (C. E.).
Ballads of Boy and Beak. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.
\_In pre/, aration.
KEYNOTES SERIES.
Each volume witn specially-designed title-page by Aubrey
Beardsley. Cr. 8vo. cloth. 35-. 6a. nee.
Vol. I. Keynotes. By George Egekton.
[^Sixth Edition noiu ready.
The Dancing Faun. By P'lokence P'arr.
Poor Folk. Translated from the Russian of
F. Dostoievsky by Lena Milman, with a
preface by George Moore.
A Child of the Age. By Francis Adams.
The Great God Pan and the Inmost
Light. By Arthur Machen.
\_Alwiit December 1st.
Vol. VI. Discords. By George Egkrton.
[Adoiet December 1st.
The folloiving are in rapid preparation : —
Vol. VII. Prince Zaleski. By M. P. Shiel.
Vol. VIII. The Woman who Did. By Grant Allen.
Vol. IX. Women's Tragedies. By H. D. Lowky.
Vol. X. The Bohemian Girl and other Stories.
By Hknry Harland.
Vol. XI. A Volume of Stories. By H. B. Marriott
Watson.
Vol. XII. A Volume of Stories. By Ella D'Arcy.
Boston : Roberts Bros.
Vol.
II.
Vol.
III.
Vol.
IV.
Vol.
V.
THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE
LEATHER (R. K.).
Verses. 250 copies, fcap. 8vo. 35. nef.
Transferred by the Author to the present Publisher.
LE GALLIENNE {RICHARD).
Prose Fancies, with a portrait of the Author, by Wilson
Steer. Third edition. Cr. 8vo., purple cloth, uniform
with "The Rehg on of a Literary Man." 55. net.
Also a limited large paper edition. 12s. 6d. net.
Ne7u York : G. P. Pn/nain's Sons.
hi GALLIENNE {RICHARD).
The Book Bills of Narcissus. An account rendered
by Richard le Gallienne Third edition, cr. 8vo.,
purple cloth, uniform with " The Religion of a Literary
Man." y. 6d. net. [/« rapid preparation.
LE GALLIENNE {RICHARD).
English Poems. Third edition, cr. Svo. purple cloth,
uniform with " The Religion of a Literary Man."
5.V net.
Boston : Copeland dr^ Day.
LE GALLIENNE [RICHARD).
George Meredith : Some Characteristics ; with a Biblio-
graphy (much enlarged) by John Lane, portrait, &c.
Fourth edition, cr. iivo., purple cloth, uniform with
" The Religion of a Literary Man." 55. bd. net.
LE GALLIENNE {RICHARD).
The Religion of a Literary Man. 5th thousand.
Cr. Svo., purple cloth. 3^. 6-/. net.
Also a special rubricated edition on hand-made paper.
Svo. 10s. 6d. net.
New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons.
LOIVRT {H. D.).
Women's Tragedies. Cr. Svo. 3^-. 6d. net.
{See Keynotes Series.) \^In preparation.
Boston : Roberts Bi os.
10 THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE
LUCAS {Jr IN IF RED).
A Volume of Poems. Fcap. 8vo. 4^. 6d. net.
[/m preparation.
MACHEN {ARTHURS.
The Gre.\t God P.\n and The Inmost Light. Cr. 8vo.
3J-. 6d. mt.
{See Keynotes Series.) [/« rapid preparation.
Boston : Roberts Bros.
MARZIALS i-THEO.).
The Gallery of Pigeons, and Other Poems. Post Svo.
4s. 6(/. net. [ f-Vr>' few remain.
Transferred by the Author to the present Publisher.
MEREDITH (GEORGE).
The First Published Portrait of this Author,
engraved on the wood by W. Biscombe Gardner,
after the painting by G. F. Watts. Proof copies on
Japanese vellum, signed by painter and engraver.
;^i. IS. net,
METNELL {MRS.) {ALICE C. THOMPSON).
Poems. 2nd edition. Fcap. Svo. 3J-. 6d. net. A few of
the 50 large paper copies (ist edition) remain. 12s. 6d.
net.
METNELL {MRS.).
The Rhythm of Life, and Other Essays. 2nd edition.
Fcap. Svo. y. 6d. net. A few of the 50 large paper
copies (ist edition) remain. I2J. 6d. net.
MILLER {JOASiUIN).
The Building of the City Beautiful. Fcap. Svo.
With a decorated cover. 5^. net. {Just pniblished.
Chicago : Stone e^ Kimball.
MILMAN {LENA).
Poor Folk. Translated from the Russian of F. Dos-
toievsky. {See Keynotes Series.) Cr. Svo. y. 6d.
net.
Boston : Roberts Bros.
THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE II
MONKHOUSE {ALLAN).
Books and Plays : a Volume of Essays on Meredith,
Borrow, Ibsen, and others. 400 copies. Cr. 8vo.
5j. net.
Philadelphia : J. B. Lippincott Co.
NESBIT (E.).
A Volume of Poems. Cr. 8vo. $s. 7tet.
\In preparation.
NETTLES HIP (J. TX
Robert Browning. Essays and Thoughts. 3rd edition,
f with a portrait. Cr. 8vo. 55. 6d. net.
\In rapid preparation.
Nroj York : Chas. .'^cribner's Sons.
NOBLE (J AS. ASHCROFT).
The Sonnet in England, and Other Essays. Title-
page and cover design by Austin Young. 600 copies.
Cr. Svo. 5^. tut. Also 50 copies L.P. 12s. bd. net.
0-SHAUGHNESSr {ARTHUR).
His Life and His Work. With selections from his
Poems. By LouiSE Chandler Moulton. Portrait
and cover design. Fcap. Svo. 55. rut.
\_yust published,
Chicago : Stone <2-= Kimball.
OAFORD CHARACTERS.
A series of lithographed Portraits by WiLL ROTHENSTEIN,
with te,xt by F. York Powell and others. To be
issued monthly in term. Each nmnber will contain
two portraits. Parts I. to V. ready. 200 sets only,
folio, wrapper, ^s. net per part ; 25 special large paper
sets containing proof impressions of the portraits signed
by the artist, xos. 6d. net per part.
PETERS {WM. THEODORE).
Posies out of Rings. Sq. i6mo. 3^-. 6d. net.
[/« preparation.
12 THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE
PLARR (FICTOR).
A Volume of Poems. Cr. 8vo. 5^. uei.
[In preparation.
RICKETTS (C. S.) AND C. H. SHANNON.
Hero and Lf.ander. By Christ, ipher Marlowe and
George Chapman. With Ijorders, initials, and illus-
trations designed and engraved on the wood by C. S.
RiCKETTS and C. H. Shannon. Bound in English
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Boston : Copeland 6^ Day,
RHYS (ERNEST).
A London Rose and Other Rhymes. With title-page
designed by Selwyn Image. 350 copies. Cr. 8vo.
5.f. net.
Nav York : Dodd, Mead, ^ Co.
SHI EL (M. P.).
Prince Zaleski. Cr 8vo. 3^-. &t. net,
(See Keynotes Series.) "^In preparation.
Boston : Roberts Bros.
STREET {G. S.).
The Autobiography of a Boy. Passages selected by
his friend, G. S. S. With title-page designed by
C. W. Furse. Fcap. 8vo. ^s. 6d. net.
\^Fourt/i Edition now ready.
Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Co.
STMONS [ARTHUR).
A New Volume of Poems. Cr. Svo. 55. net.
[/w preparation.
THOMPSON (FRANCIS).
A Volume of Poems. With frontispiece, title-page, and
cover design by LAURENCE HousMAN. 4th edition.
Pott 4to. 5J-. net.
Boston : Copeland 6^ Day.
THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE
13
TREE (H BEERBOHM).
The Imvginative Faculty: a Lecture delivered at the
Royal Institution. With portrait of Mr. Tree from
an unpublijihed drawing by the Marchioness of Granby.
Fcap. 8vo., boards. 2s. 61 net.
TYNAN HINKSON (KATHARINE).
Cuckoo Songs. With title-page and
Laurence Housman. Fcap. 8vo.
Boston : Copeland &^ Day.
TYNAN HINKSON (KATHARINE).
Miracle Plays.
cover design by
55. Jlc't.
WATSON {H. B. MARRIOTT).
A Volume of Stiries. Cr. 8vo.
{^ee Keynotes Series.)
Boston : Roberts Bros.
\_In preparation.
del. net.
[/« preparation.
WATSON (WILLIAM).
Odes, and Other Poems.
Ne7v York: Maernillan 6^ Co.
WATSON {WILLIAM).
The Eloping Angels : a Caprice.
i6mo, buckram. 3^. 6ti. net.
Ntio York: Alacmillan ^ Co.
Fcap. 8vo. 4J. dd. net.
I A bold December 1st.
2nd edition. Sq.
WATSON {WILLIAM).
Excursions in Criticism : being some Prose Recrea-
tions of a Rhymer. 2nd edition, cr. 8vo. 55. net.
N'ew York: Macmillan cr» Co.
WATSON {WILLIAM).
The Prince's Quest, and Other Poems. With a
bibliographical note added. 2nd edition, fcap. Svo,
4^. 6d net.
WATTS {THEODORE).
Poems. Cr. Svo. ^s. net. \_In preparation.
There -will also be an Edition de Luxe of this volume printed
at the Kelinseott Press.
14 THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE
WHARTON (//. rx
Sappho Memoir, text, selected renderings, and a literal
translation by Henry Thornton Wharton. With
three illustrations, fcap. 8vo. 75. 6d. net.
\_In preparation.
WILDE (OSCAR).
The Sphinx. A Poem. Decorated throughout in line
and colour and bound in a design by Charles
KICKETTS. 250 copies, £2. 25. fiet. 25 copies large
paper, ^5. 5,7. /ict.
Boston : Copeland ^ Day.
WILDE {OSCAR).
The incom]iarable and ingenious history of Mr. W. H.,
being the true secret of Shakespear's sonnets, now for
the tirst lime here fully set forth. With initial letters
and cover design by Charles Ricketts. 500 copies,
\os, 6d. net. Also 50 copies large paper, 215. tiet.
\_In preparation.
WILDE {OSCAR).
Dramatic Works, now printed for the first time. With
a specially-designed binding to each volume, by
CHA.RLES Shannon. 500 copies, sm. 4to., js. 6d. net
per vol. Also 50 copies large paper, 155. net per vol.
Vol. I. Lady Windermere's Fan. A comedy in four
acts. \_Oiit of print.
Vol. II. A Woman of No Importance. A comedy in
four acts. \yiist published.
Vol. III. The Duchess OF Padua. Ablank verse tragedy
in five acts. [ Very shortly.
Boston : Copeland ^ Day.
WILDE (OSCAR).
Salome . A Tragedy in one act, done into English, with
ID illustrations, title-page, tad-piece, and cover design
by Aubrey IjEArdsley. 500 copies, sm. 4to. 155.
net. Also 100 copies large paper, 305. net.
Boston : Copeland &^ Day,.
THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE 1 5
The Yellow Book.
An Illustrated Quarterly.
VOL. I. Fourth Edition, pott \to., 272 pp., 15 Illustra-
tiofis, Dccor-ative Cloth Cover, price ^s. net.
The Letterpress by Max Beerbohm, A. C. Benson, Hubert
Crackanthorpe, Ella D'Arcy, John Davidson,
George Egerton, Richard Garnett, Edmund Gosse,
Henry Harland, John Oliver Hobbes, Henry James,
Richard le Gallienne, George Moore, George
Saintsbury, Fred M. Simpson, Arthur Symons,
William Watson, Arthur Waugh.
The Ilkistrations by Sir Frederic Leighton, P.R.A.,
Aubrey Beardsley, R. Anning Bell Charles W.
FuRSE, Laurence Housman, J. T. Nettleship, Joseph
Pennell, Will Rothenstein, Walter Sickert.
VOL. 11. Third Edition, pott 4.to., 364/;^., 23 Illustra-
tions, with a New Decorative Cloth Cover, price z^s. net.
The Literary Contributions by Frederick Greenwood, Ella
D'Arcy, Charles Willeby, John Davidson, Henry
Harland, Dollie Radford, Charlotte M. Mew,
Austin Dobson, V., O., C. S., Katharine de Mattos.
Philip Gilbert Hamerton, Ronald Campbell
Macfie, Dauphin Meunier, Kenneth Grahame, Nor-
man Gale, Netta Syrett, Hubert Crackanthorpe,
Alfred Hayes, Max BeerbohxM, William Watson,
and Henry James.
The Art Contributions by Walter Crane, A S. Hartrick,
Aubrey Beardsley, Alfred Thornton, P. Wilson
Steer, John S. Sargent, A.R.A., Sydney Adamson,
Walter Sickert, W. Brown MacDougal, E. J.
Sullivan, Francis Forster, Bernhard Sickert, and
Aymer Vallance.
A Special Feature of Vohimc IL is a frank criticism of
the Literature and Art of Volume I. by Philip Gilbert
Hamerton.
l6 THE rUBLICATIONS OF JOHV LANE
The Yellow Book.
VOL. III. Now ready, pott 4to., 280 pp., 15 Illustra-
tions, with a New Decorative Cloth Cover, price ^s. net.
The Literary Contributions by William Watson, Kenneth
Grah/\me, Arthur Symons, Ella D'Arcy, Josii Maria
DE HerEuia, Ellen M. Clerke, Henry Harland,
Theo. Marzials, Ernest Dowson, Theodore W ratis-
law, Arthur Moore, Olive Custance, Lionel John-
son, Annie Macdonell, C. S., Nora Hopper, S.
Cornish Watkins, Hubert Crackanthorpe, Morton
Fullerton, Leila Macdonald, C. W. Dalmon, Max
Beerbohm, and John Davidson.
The Art Contributions by Philip Broughton, George
Thomson, Aubrey Beard ley, Albert Foscfter,
Walter Sickert, P. Wil-on Steer, William Hyde,
and Max Beerbohm.
Prospectuses Post Free on Application.
Boston : Copeland ^ Day.
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