Lament for the Sons of Usnach

Deirdre

Wail the Warriors, and your shame,
Killed at Emain, when they came:
Nobly came they here at once,
Usnach's high heroic sons.

Naisi, gallant, gentle, good, —
Mourn with me his murdered blood!
Ardan, victor of the boar,
Weep too, Ainli, strong no more!

Sweet to you the mellow mead
That Mac Nessa loves to speed;
Ever sweeter seems the fare
I with Usnach's Sons used share.

When that Naisi urged the chase
Through the wood and wilderness,
All was more than honey sweet,
When they fetched the forest meat.

Ye think the wailing mellow
Of pipe and trumpet yellow;
I have heard, — tell Concobar!
Music more melodious far.

Sweet to Concobar, the King,
When the pipes and trumpets sing;
Sweeter song made me rejoice —
Usnach's Sons' delightful voice!

Naisi — strong sound of ocean!
Sweet list'ning to its motion!
Great as Ardan's call to roam,
Ainli's cheer was, hying home.

Naisi's grave is made this night, —
Sorrow comes of it and blight! —
He filled foemen, ring on ring,
With red waves of slaughtering.

Lovely was their childhood's flow'r,
Mighty grew their manhood's pow'r:
Sorrow comes of it and scathe —
Usnach's Sons are done to death.

Dear their converse bright!
Dear their strong young lofty might!
When they came from Erinn's war
Dear their welcome forms afar.

Dear their blue eyes, woman-loved,
Praise went round them when they roved;
When they came from forest chase
'Twas delight their track to trace.

I sleep no more;
Once of yore my cheek was red;
Me strains of welcome cheer not,
Now I hear not Naisi's tread.

I sleep never,

Sorrows sever now for naught:
What to me feast or playing,
Whose mind straying, all distraught.

Not for me be banquet spread,
Nor mead red, nor welcoming;
Soft nor sweet, nor song nor sport,
Palace proud, nor court of King.