Book III

The dusky Dalaradian heights at hand appearing now,
King Congal, as apart he stood, and from his galley's prow
Beheld the swift ships far dispersed across the ocean dark,
As harnessed steers, when, for a prize, within some rich man's park.
They cut in clay, with coulter clean, the onward-reddening line.
With slant keels ceaseless turning up the white-foam'd barren brine.
And black, pernicious, woe-charged sides, and tall masts forward bow'd,
Intent to launch their fatal freight on Erin, groaned aloud:
And " Much-loved native hills," he said, " I grieve that thus I come
Not charged with cups or cattle-spoil, nor carrying captives home.
Nor bearing boast of friends relieved or enemies confused.
As other ship-returning Kings have heretofore been used;
But laden deep with death and woe, of all my race the first
To bring the hireling stranger in, I come in hour accurst,"
Exclaimed an aged mariner who by the main-mast stood—
"O'er all the Dalaradian hills there hangs a cloud of blood.
Gore-drops fall from its edges."
"Peace, fool," the King returned,
"'Twas but the early morning mist that in the sunrise burned."
And cried to thrust the barques ashore where in a winding bay,
Far camped along the margent foam, the hosts of Ulster lay
Expectant. Forth the anchors went; and shoreward swinging round.
The lofty poops of all the fleet together took the ground,
Harsh grinding on the pebbly beach: then, like as though a witch.
Brewing her charm in cauldron black, should chance at owlet's scritch
Hooting athwart the gloom, to turn her head aside, the while
Winds bellow, and the fell contents on all sides over-boil;
So, down the steep, dark galley's sides leaped they: so, spuming o'er.
They crowded from the teeming holds, and spread along the shore
In blackening streams. The Ulster hosts with acclamation loud
Gave welcome; and the ranks were filled.
But while they stood, a cloud
Stood overhead; and, as the thought a dreaming man conceives,
Which he, the while, some wondrous thing of import vast believes,
Grows folly, when his waking mind scans it; so, in the frown
Of that immense, sky-filling cloud the great hills dwindled down;
And all the sable-sided hulks that loomed so large before
Small now as poor men's fisher-craft showed on the darkened shore.
Awed in the gathering gloom, the hosts stood silent; till there came
A clap of thunder, and therewith a sheet of levin-flame
Dropt in white curtain straight from heaven between them and the ships:
And when the pale day-light returned, after that keen eclipse,
In smoke and smouldering flame the barques stood burning: o'er their sides
The sailors leaped: while moaning deep, sudden, the refluent tides
Gave all their dry keels to the wind: the wind whose waftings fair
Had borne them thither through the deep, thence bore them off through air.
In fire and smoke: through all the host, like flakes of driving snow,
The embers fell; and all their cheeks scorched in the fervid glow.
Then thus exclaimed the Prankish King: " Our first step on this land
Is with no cheering omen, friends; for if Jehovah's hand
It be that casts this thunderbolt, but small success, I fear
Attends our enterprise; but come, give all your labours here
To quench the galley first that lies to windward of the fleet;
For ill betides Invader left without way of retreat."
Then many a man with rueful eye looked o'er the naked main,
And wished himself, with neither spoil nor glory, at home again.
But " Fear not, friends," cried Congal Claen. " Ye have not sought us here
For stay so short ye need repine if portion of the year
Be spent in fitting a fleet.

No loss but time and care replace.
A stumble at the start is oft the winning of the race."
So counselled Congal; and the hosts with better courage strove
To quench the flames; but still the flames intenser-rising drove
Wide through the fleet, from barque to barque: then, in the midst, a cry
Was heard from Kellach:
"Lift me up, companions; raise me high
That all may see me, and my words of all be understood.
Sons, hold your hands. Desist," he cried. " Let burn! The omen's good.
Fire is the sire of Life and Force. The mighty men of yore
Still burned the barques that landed them on whatsoever shore
They chose for conquest. Warriors then were men indeed, and scorned
Alike the thought and means of flight. From battle none returned
Then but the victors. Heroes then, untaught the art to yield.
Ere standing fight would slay the steeds that bore them to the field;
Ere joining battle by a bridge, would leave the bridge behind
Broken, lest lightest thought of flight should enter any mind.

Thus Nuad of the Silver-Hand from Dovar setting sail.
Charged with the King-discerning might of vocal Lia Fail,
When first for Erin's coasts he steered, and made the sacred strand.
Waited for no chance lightning-flash, but with his proper hand
Fired all his long-ships, till the smoke that from that burning rose
Went up before him, herald-like, denouncing to his foes
Death and despair: they deeming him a necromancer clad
In magic mists, stood not, but fled: wherefore be rather glad
That what your own irresolute hands this day have failed to do
Heaven's interposing hand hath done; and bravely done it, too:
Since even so this rolling cloud with all its embers red,
That like a mighty spangled flag now waves above my head.
Announces to that coward King of Tara that, once more,
"The heroes of the North have burned their barques on Erin's shore."
He ended, and from gown and beard shook forth the falling fire.
While all the hosts with loud acclaim approved the sentence dire;
And leaving there their blackening barques consuming by the wave.
Marched inland, and their camp at eve pitched by King Teuthal's grave,
'Twixt Ullar's and Oliarva's founts.
Around the Mound of Sighs
They filled the woody-sided vale; but no sweet sleep their eyes
Refreshed that night: for all the night, around their echoing camp,
Was heard continuous from the hills, a sound as of the tramp
Of giant footsteps; but so thick the white mist lay around
None saw the Walker save the King. He, starting at the sound.
Called to his foot his fierce red hound; athwart his shoulders cast
A shaggy mantle, grasped his spear, and through the moonlight passed
Alone up dark Ben-Boli's heights, toward which, above the woods,
With sound as when at close of eve the noise of falling floods
Is borne to shepherd's ear remote on stilly upland lawn,
The steps along the mountain side with hollow fall came on.
Fast beat the hero's heart; and close down-crouching by his knee
Trembled the hound, while through the haze, huge as through mists at sea,
The week-long-sleepless mariner descries some mountain-cape,
Wreck-infamous, rise on his lee, appeared a monstrous Shape
Striding impatient, like a man much grieved, who walks alone
Considering of a cruel wrong: down from his shoulders thrown
A mantle, skirted stiff with soil splashed from the miry ground,
At every stride against his calves struck with as loud rebound
As makes the mainsail of a ship brought up along the blast.
When with the coil of all its ropes it beats the sounding mast.
So Striding vast, the giant pass'd; the King held fast his breath;
Motionless, save his throbbing heart; and chill and still as death
Stood listening while, a second time, the giant took the round
Of all the camp: but when at length, for the third time, the sound
Came up, and through the parting haze a third time huge and dim
Rose out the Shape, the valiant hound sprang forth and challenged him
And forth, disdaining that a dog should put him so to shame.
Sprang Congal, and essayed to speak.
"Dread Shadow, stand. Proclaim
What would'st thou, that thou thus all night around my camp should'st keep
Thy troublous vigil; banishing the wholesome gift of sleep
From all our eyes, who, though inured to dreadful sounds and sights
By land and sea, have never yet in all our perilous nights
Lain in the ward of such a guard."
The Shape made answer none;
But with stern wafture of his hand, went angrier striding on,
Shaking the earth with heavier steps. Then Congal on his track
Sprang fearless.
"Answer me, thou Churl," he cried. " I bid thee back!"
But while he spoke, the giant's cloak around his shoulders grew
Like to a black bulged thunder-cloud; and sudden out there flew
From all its angry swelling folds, with uproar unconfined,
Direct against the King's pursuit, a mighty blast of wind:
Loud flapped the mantle tempest-lined, while fluttering down the gale,
As leaves in Autumn, man and hound were swept into the vale.
And heard, o'er all the huge uproar, through startled Dalaray
The giant went, with stamp and clash, departing south away.
The King sought Ardan in his tent; and to the wakeful Bard,
Panting and pale, disclosed at length what he had seen and heard;
Considering which a little time, the Master sighed and spoke.
"King, thou describest by his bulk and by his clapping cloak
A mighty demon of the old time, who with much dread and fear
Once filled the race of Partholan; Manannan Mor Mac Lir,
Son of the Sea. In former times there lived not on the face
Of Erin a sprite of bigger bulk or potenter to raise
The powers of air by land and sea in lightning, tempest, hail,
Or magical thick mist, than he; albeit in woody Fail
Dwelt many demons at that time: but being so huge of limb,
Manannan had the overward of the coast allotted him,
To Stride it round, from cape to cape, daily; and if a fleet
Hove into sight, to shake them down a sea-fog from his feet;
Or with a wafture of his cloak flap forth a tempest straight
Would drive them off a hundred leagues; and so he kept his state
In churlish sort about our bays and forelands, till at last
Great Spanish Miledh's mighty sons, for all he was so vast,
And fell a churl, in spite of him, by dint of blows, made good
Their landing, and brought in their Druids: from which time forth, the brood
Of Goblin people shun the light; some in the hollow sides
Of hills lie hid; some hide beneath the brackish ocean-tides;
Some underneath the sweet-well springs. Manannan, Poets say.
Fled to the isle which bears his name, that eastward lies halfway
Sailing to Britain; whence at times he wades the narrow seas.
Revisiting his old domain, when evil destinies
Impend o'er Erin: but his force and magic might are gone:
And at such times 'tis said that he who, 'twixt twilight and dawn,
Meets him and speaks him, safely learns a year's events to be."
"But he who speaks him," Congal said, " and gains no answer—he?"
"Within the year, the Seers agree," said Ardan, " he must die;
For death and silence, we may see, bear constant company."
"Be it so. Bard," replied the King. " To die is soon or late
For every being born alive the equal doom of Fate.
Nor grieve I much; nor would I grieve if Heaven had so been pleased
That either I had not been born, or had already ceased.
Being born, to breathe; but while I breathe so let my life be spent
As in renown of noble deeds to find a monument."
By this the moonlight paled in dawn; and onward to Rathmore
Of green Moy-Linney marched the hosts, and round King Congal's door
Pitched camp again; where copious feasts, by Kellach's care prepared,
Refreshed them, and the gift of sleep their weary eye lids shared.
And now, at dawn, to cross the fords, hard-by the royal town.
The fresh, well-ordered, vigorous bands in gallant ranks drew down:
When, lo, a Spectre horrible, of more than human size,
Full in the middle of the ford took all their wondering eyes.
A ghastly woman it appeared, with grey dishevelled hair
Blood-draggled, and with sharp-boned arms, and fingers crook'd and spare
Dabbling and washing in the ford, where mid-leg deep she stood
Beside a heap of heads and limbs that swam in oozing blood.
Whereon and on a glittering heap of raiment rich and brave
With swift, pernicious hands she scooped and pour'd the crimson'd wave.
And though the stream approaching her ran tranquil, clear and bright.
Sand-gleaming between verdant banks, a fair and peaceful sight,
Downward the blood-polluted flood rode turbid, strong and proud,
With heady-eddying dangerous whirls and surges dashing loud.
All stood aghast. But Kellach cried, " Advance me to the bank;
I'll speak the Hag."
But back, instead, his trembling bearers shrank.
Then Congal from the foremost rank a spear-cast forward strode,
And said,
"Who art thou, hideous one; and from what curst abode
Comest thou thus in open day the hearts of men to freeze;
And whose lopp'd heads and severed limbs and bloody vests are these?"
"I am the Washer of the Ford," she answered; " and my race
Is of the Tuath de Danaan line of Magi; and my place
For toil is in the running streams of Erin; and my cave
For sleep is in the middle of the shell-heaped Cairn of Maev,
High up on haunted Knocknarea; and this fine carnage-heap
Before me, and these silken vests and mantles which I steep
Thus in the running water, are the severed heads and hands
And spear-torn scarfs and tunics of these gay-dressed, gallant bands
Whom thou, oh Congal, leadest to death. And this," the Fury said.
Uplifting by the clotted locks what seemed a dead man's head,
"Is thine own head, oh Congal."
Therewith she rose in air,
And vanished from the warrior's view, leaving the river bare
Of all but running water. But Congal drew his sword
And with a loud defying shout, plunged madly in the ford,
Probing the empty pools; then stood, and from the middle flood
Exclaimed:
"Here stand I, and here swear that till the tide of blood
Thus laves my knees, I will not turn for threat of Devil or Ghost,
Fairy or lying Spirit accurst, while one of all this host
Follows my leading."
Conan Rodd sprang kindling forth and cried,
"I fail thee not, for one, my King: " and stood by Congal's side,
Grasping his hand. Halt Kellach wept, and cried,
"Ah, recreant ones.
Great Rury's cheek is red for shame, to see Ultonian sons
Like goblin-daunted children small, scared at a nurse's lay.
Thus hanging back on Honor's track, while Britons lead the way.
Fear not the Hag; I know her well, accurst one! She appears
To battle entering warriors once in every seven years;
And seven and seven years, exact, it is since last before
I saw her foul ill-favoured face, the day that Domnal Mor
And Scallan Broad-Shield gave the breach on royal Sweeny Menn
At red Troy-Brena: 'twas at dawn; and in the cressy fen
By the loch-side, where afterwards, crossing the treacherous quag,
So many of us sank engulfed, we saw the hideous Hag
Stoop'd at her washing. Not a man of all the gazing host
But shook to see the carnage pile before the grisly ghost;
Each deeming that his own lopp'd head, conspicuous 'mid the pile.
Lay glaring; and this very head, gathering defilement vile,
Saw I among them; yet I came from that fight scatheless forth;
And therefore hold her prophecies are but of little worth.
But, would to God, these limbs had then been stiff as now they are,
Ere I for thankless Domnal's sake had part in such a war;
Or now were strong and supple-swift as then indeed they were,
So should ye never see me here, and British Conan there."
So Kellach spoke; and all their hearts grew great with manly shame;
And as a flood flows through a flood, up through the fords they came.
Raising Ollarva: all their shields and shining belts were wet
With clear, cold, fishy-streaming floods against the strong bar set
Of limbs heroic and deep chests. But when the fords were pass'd
And the long columns drew their strength forth on the champaign vast,
Fear fell again on Congal's host, and much oppressed with awe,
They pondered what they late had heard, and what, but now, they saw.
Southward in gloomy-gliding ranks, hushed all in dumb dismay.
The hosts across the upland bare, and through the morning grey,
As drifting cloud at close of day that tracks the heaven serene,
Held on their dark unechoing march athwart the Fassagh green,
Till on a car afar were seen, by two swift coursers drawn,
Herself, Lafinda, and her Nurse, advancing through the dawn,
Swift they approached: the ruddy blaze of sunrise round them spread
Seemed with a diadem of rays to crown each radiant head.
"Congal," the royal maiden said, " be not incensed, I pray.
That thus in presence of the hosts I cross thy war-like way;
For need admitting no delay impels me; and the ire
Of one I dare not disobey constrains the message dire.
Last night, at midnight, by my bed an awful form there stood.
Whom by her vermeil-lettered book, and by her purple hood.
And hoary, glory-beaming locks, that shone like sunlit snow.
For Blessed Brigid of Kildare I could not choose but know;
And said, ' Awake: arise: go forth: thy nurse, Lavar-cam, waits
With car and ready-harnessed steeds without the fortress gates:
Mount by her side, and northward forth ride fearless till the dawn
Show thee an army on its march across the upland lawn;
Then to the King who leads that host say thus, Oh mighty King,
From Duftach's daughter of Kildare I thee this message bring:
Turn back or perish: thou and all thy Hosting: for the path
From hence to Moyra on both sides is hedged about with wrath.
And paved for foot of every man who in thy conduct treads
With slippery, horror-staring floor of slaughtered heroes' heads.'
So spoke she; I by strong constraint drawn to the gates, obeyed;
And here, through shadows of the night, as in a dream conveyed,
Now find myself, but in no dream; and, horror-filled, I see
These mighty-marching, death-devoted heroes led by thee.
Oh Congal."
Congal, answering, said: " Dear maid, thou art deceived:
These visions of the feverish night are not to be believed.
But come; such poor refreshment now as warriors' tents afford,
Take; and when seasonable rest thy strength shall have restored,
A noble escort shall attend thy home-returning car.
Such as befits thy father's child: and when this shortlived war
Is ended—for this host shall soon abate the tyrant's pride—
With Erin for thine escort, thou, a crowned and royal bride,
I, crowned and happy, by thy side, kings by our bridle-rein.
Shall up to fair Rath-Keltar ride, never to part again."
"Congal," the Princess pale replied, " no bridal pomp for me
Is destined, if thou harkenest not to Brigid's embassy;
Save haply such a bridal pomp as, entering Brigid's cell,
A handmaiden of Christ may hope."
Said he, " The powers of hell
Have sought to turn me, and have failed; and though in thee I find
My only heaven, yet neither thou shalt bend my steadfast mind."

"Damsel," said Kellach from his chair, " these dreams that haunt the bed
Of timorous virgins vanish all when once the maids are wed.
And royally thou shalt be wed, and gallantly be brought
Home to a dream-defying bed when once this breach is fought."
"Ah, aged Scorner," cried the Nurse, who by the Princess stood,
"Thou never wanted'st ribald taunt for aught was pure or good.
Beware, lest on both soul and limb God's angry judgments fall,
For to thy crooked counsellings we owe these mischiefs all."
Said Kellach: " If a withered Hag, with prophecies of death,
Had power to turn sword-girded men back upon Honour's path,
Thou hadst no need to waste thy breath on us who, even now
Are here despite the menaces of an uglier witch than thou."
"Wretch," cried the dame, " abide thy fate; " and car and coursers wheeled.
Her aspect changing awfully; and, as she swept the field,
Brigid, they thought, stood plain revealed: and steeds and car became
Bright in her presence as in glow of forge-excited flame
But with a greyhound's bound, the King leaped to the reins, and cried,
"Daughter of Duftach, stay thy steeds: turn back: restore my bride!"
But Brigid lashed the spurning steeds: they by the sharp whip stung.
Off, with a foam-dispersing snort, the baffled hero flung:
But back again fierce Congal sprung, with lion's leap and roar
Terrific, shouting as he ran,
"Thou robber Saint, restore
My bride!"
And at the wide-maned steeds, where side by side they flew
With earth-and-heaven-defying hand, his mortal javelin threw.
But Brigid motioned with her hand, and from the chariot seat,
Glancing oblique, the spear returned innocuous to his feet.
The eyes of all the astonished host Garr-Congail's flight pursued;
And, when they looked again, the car was lost within the wood.
Mute stood the hosts, in awe subdued; and fear blanched many a cheek.
Ruddy till then; then thus began the Prankish King to speak:
"God wars against this war, oh Kings; and pledged albeit I be
To succour valiant Congal Claen against the enmity
Of Domnal, King of Erin, no promise have I given
To succour valiant Congal Claen 'gainst God the King of Heaven,
Who, by His Saints, this day declares for Domnal. Therefore now
Thus I advise: here found we straight a splendid cell, and vow.

To Brigid whom amongst them all wise men may chiefly fear
As owning most main power in act; but, Brigid's wrath appeased,
With gifts of gems and gold in dower she yet may be pleased,
Haply, to aid us; or, at least, to leave in even scale
The balanced chances of the war, till greater might prevail."
Prince Sweeny Menn spoke next. He said:
"Sirs, since no man can say
How strife untried may terminate, methinks the wiser way
Were to prepare against the worst; which, seeing our galleys' loss,
I thus advise. Draw to the coast. There camp; and dig a fosse.
With rampart suitable, across some jutting foreland's height;
So shall we sit secure till friends get warning of our plight;
And send their ships to aid our flight; if such be God's decree
That after all our splendid hopes of spoil and victory,
Flight needs must be our last resource. But here in open field,
Far from supplies, I counsel not to camp, nor yet to build."
Said Aed Green-Mantle: " Kings, our plight is even as the case
Of venturous fowler who pursues his game into a place,
High up a slippery sea-rock's face, where jutting rocks impend,
Which, though too steep for going down, a man may yet ascend,
Being bold and cautious; but behoves such climber that he cast
No backward, hesitating glance on any peril past
Until he gain the level land, where he can stand, and say,
For me, when first within my breast I felt the generous flame,
And said, ' I'll be a warrior,' my youthful dream of fame
Was all of more than mortal foes, such as great Chiefs of yore
Were wont to meet in desert vast or shadowy forest hoar;
Tree-wielding Giants, mighty Churls who, through the echoing glades
Of dreary forests, to their dens, would drag lamenting maids;
Fell Sorcerers by enchanted gates; or in his earthy hold
The fire-exhaling wakeful Worm coiled round the guarded gold:
Or haply still more glorious foes, such as, with eager joy,
I've heard our Poets sing were those that fought the breach of Troy,
When Gods from Heaven came down in arms, and godlike men beneath
Withstood them, mortal foot to foot immortal, to the death.
Fired by which noble fantasy, ere yet my youthful cheek
Bore manly down, I left my home, in foreign lands to seek
Glorious adventure: many lands I visited; and saw
Many renowned cities of men, each by its proper law
Governed, and by its proper hosts guarded; and mighty wars
In all lands waging; yet I found neither in field of Mars,
Nor on the long-shipped deep, nor yet in fell or forest drear,
The shape or substance could withstand a brave man's searching spear;
But, by the keen steel tried, would all confess an equal birth
Drawn, death-obnoxious as my own, from dust of vulgar earth.
And, for their mighty miracles and prodigies sublime,
Of antique Gods, and holy Saints, these from the olden time
Had, as they said, ceased utterly; and now were only known
In lays and legends of their Clerks, as idle as our ov/n.
Wherefore, with glory-thirsting heart, that still insatiate burned,
I from their barren battle-fields and empty camps returned.
Resolved amid my native woods, and in the sacred gloom
Of Stones of power, to seek again some conqueror of the tomb;
Great Arthur, with the apple-bloom of green Avallon's bowers
Still redolent; or Uther's self from Caer Sidi's towers;
But sought in vain: my scornful steel on vulgar foes employed.
Nor dread of Deity conceived, nor love of man enjoyed;
Till, glorious in a castle gate, like lion in the road,
Couchant, I first saw Congal Claen; and at first sight bestowed
Faith and affection on the King; for never had I seen
In all the earth a potentate of countenance or mien
Royal as his, and as a youth amid the virgin throng
Will move with unembarrassed heart, in gay indifference, long;
Till, in a moment, some one maid's unconscious glance constrains
His soul to homage, and he thence bound in her thrall remains;
So I, who all my prime of years 'mongst noblest men had passed,
And seen no man I'd deign to call or friend or lord; at last,
Taken in a moment, saw and owned my captain, friend, and King;
In whose just quarrel being engaged, I here to Erin bring
My British aids; and here at last, in open day behold
Immortal beings visibly commingling, as of old,
In mortal struggles. Here at length I find my youthful dream
Made real. Here the mighty deeds of antique heroes seem
No longer all inimitable. Here Hercul's self might own
Fit labour for another Toil, nor ask the task alone.
Wherefore with awful joy elate, I stand; and bid thee hail.
Last hero-stage of all the world, illustrious Innisfail!
Land of the lingering Gods! green land, still sparkling fresh and fair
With morning dew of heroism dried up and gone elsewhere!
Wherefore, no penitential cell for me! But rather raise,
Here, where old Honor stands revived, the Stone of other days,
Grey, vast, majestic; such as when degenerate men behold,
They'll say, ' Some noble thing was done here in the days of old.'
Such as when Poets view, they'll say, when ages hence are flown,
'Great hearts and mighty hands were theirs who raised the Standing Stone.'"
He said; and on a great grey rock, half-buried in the field.
Stood in the flaming of his arms, and waved his golden shield.
Loud cheered the Welshmen; and the King of Lochlan to his side
Leaped with a rivalling flash and clash; and caught his hand, and cried,
"I swear by Woden and the might of hammer-hurling Thor,
I love thee, Conan; and with thee am henceforth through this war
True comrade, good or ill betide I, too, have seen the homes
Of mightiest Caesars; and beneath Byzantium's proudest domes
Have borne the Waring's guardian axe, in shelter of whose blade
The laws that bind the Imperial world, both Priest and King, are made.
But gilded arch, nor marble porch, nor incense-scented air,
Nor silken couch had ever charm, for me, that could compare
With home in Lochlan: with the burg beside the Northern sea.
Where runs the roebuck on the hill, where floats the pinnace free:
Where still the ancient Gods receive, in forest and in cave.
With rites of sacrifice unfeigned, the worship of the brave;
And for their smoking altar-meeds sincere, return us still
The conscious courage dominant, the power and kingly will
To rule the fore-shores of the world, with all their citied sides,
Where'er the wandering moons uplift the ship-uplifting tides.
Ill would beseem the sea-borne kings of Letha's midmost coasts
Here, in this outer spot of earth, to blench at sight of ghosts,
Earthmen, or beldames of the cells; though clad in shapes of air
And owning shows of strength divine, that martial men elsewhere
Meet not, nor ever deemed they'd meet, since Woden to their dens,
In Lappish deserts and the depths of Finmark's icy fens,
Cast out the Trolls. My sentence then is, march, and meet your foes
Of mortal mould with mortal arms. Let be the feud of those
As fate hereafter may dispose. We reck not: neither crave
Their aid prophetic to foresee well-filled, the foeman's grave.
This is my sentence.
Fairy nor Fire-drake
Keep back the Kemper.
At home in the burg,
Leaves he the maiden
Boon for the bridal;
Abroad, on the holme,
Leaves he the harvest
Ripe for the reaper;
The bowl, on the board
In the hall of the banquets,
Leaves he untasted.
When lances uplift
The foe in field.
Noting the Norsemen
Out on the water-throng.
Hark! how the Eagle
Vaunts to the Vulture.
'Spread the wing, Scald-neck,'
Says she and screams she;
'Seest thou the Sea-Kings,
Borne o'er the gannet-bath,
Going to garner
Every bird's eyrie.'''
Fell from her fishy perch
Answers the Bald-beak,
'Scream no more, little one;
Feeders are coming.'
Hearkening their colloquy.
Grins the grey beast.
The wolf on wold.
This is my sentence:
These are the Norseman's
Pandect and Canon.
Thyrfing is thirsty;
Quern-biter hungers;
Shield-walker wearieth
Shut in the scabbard.
This is my sentence:
Bring us to battle."
Fierce response gave three parts of the field;
And loud the Eastman's iron axe on many a target pealed.

As when the tree-tops of a wood first feel a blast of wind,
One rustling oak begins to stir, then stirs the oak behind: \''^^ ,.
Thence on in gradual-deepening grooves, and on in widening rings,
The tree-commingling tumult moves till all the forest swings;
So battle-impulse through them went; so, at the bard's appeal.
With thirst of combat, far and wide, they leaped and clashed the steel
Then Congal, staying where he strode infuriate to and fro,
With fair white hand dashed from his cheek the briny overflow,
And cried,
"Oh, this it is, oh God, to have, in time of need,
Men in the gate! and therefore I, though little used indeed
To call on any name of God, yet, by whatever name
Men call Thee, Thou who givest to men wives, children, riches, fame.
And rarer than the worth of wives, and which the wealth transcends
Of fame, as fame the worth of gold; who givest a man his friends,
I thank and praise Thee. Oh, brave friends, what though this goblin crew
From all their earth-wombs foul, where'er they lurk from general view.
Be by our coming thus stirred up; even as I've seen elsewhere
The coming of a young rich man into a public fair
Set all the banded cheats astir? 'Tis, that a common fear
Besets them—being in a bond, leagued and consorting here,—
That their united reign is o'er, once we achieve the crown
Of Erin, and set up the law that casts all phantoms down.
Free as the eagle which, indeed, when he has stooped to prey
His quarry in a hollow vale, at first must make his way
With gyres contracted 'twixt the hills; till to a level run
With his horizon; but he then soars straightway at the Sun:
Or as a seaman, being embayed, heaves oft his swerving boom
Starboard and larboard; then, at last, having attained sea-room,
Lies his straight course, with keel direct cutting the ocean vast,
While sun and rain, and wind and tide, and day and night flit past:
So, flitting past our constant march, let these weak shades troop on:
We, to our own hearts level arisen; we. Doubt's last headlands gone.
Launched on our main-sea enterprise, go forth with steadfast mind.
Nor turn a wavering look aside, nor cast a glance behind.
While God betwixt us and our foes, impartial, leaves the event:
For no man can contend with God, He being omnipotent;
But far removed from human strife, leaves to the daring man
By force of valour to achieve such conquest as he can.
Whether o'er other mortal men less valiant; or o'er those
Inferior demons of the air 'Tis through such overthrows,
Given in just quarrel, comes renown a man no other way
Can compass; for such conqueror, the Bard's heroic lay
Gives perpetuity of fame: the Statue-smith for him
To forms of glory consecrates each marble-moulded limb:
For him, when on his nation's behalf he rises up to speak.
The council of the wise sit hushed: for him young Beauty's cheek
Glows with the rose: all lips disclose their smiles for him whose arm
Protects all life's delights for all: to him in war's alarm.
As to the husband of the State, the trembling mothers run,
Holding their little ones: to him each generous-nurtured son
Hurries instinctive; as at sea when tempests overwhelm
Faint hearts with horror in the hold, then chiefly round the helm
Gather brave seamen. But the man whose sullen breast, exempt
From generous impulse, prompts him forth upon no brave attempt,
Lives sordidly and dies despised. He dares no stormy sea.
Outflying Honor upon the wings of wintry tempests he
Smiles at no spiteful impotent trick malicious Fortune plays;
Follows no friend with loyal steps through ghost-prohibited ways;
Burns with no emulous thirst of fame, when glowing tongues declare
Brave aspirations; as ye now, oh friends stand burning there.—
For lo, I see on all your cheeks the blush of manly shame;
Lo, now I see in all your eyes the generous sparkling flame,
Presage of conquest. Lo, the path to Moyra, where the foe
Waits us, lies open. Forward, sons of Rury, forward, ho!
Grandsons of Woden; clans of Hu; before us lies renown
Safety and strength and native laws, revenge and Erin's crown."
He said: and while with shouts on shouts the echoing heavens were rent.
The mighty hosts with courage renewed, all with a one consent
Moved onward. As a great black barque, compact of many a tree.
That, on her launch from some high beach, shoots down at once to sea;
Or like as when, in time of thaw, a snow-drift deep and wide.
By strong winds in a hollow place lodged on a mountain side.
Fetches away with loosening crash; or like as when, a cloud
Lumbering the sky, strong winds arise, and all the aerial crowd
Fall on at once; it bulges, bursts, rolls out, and overspreads
The face of heaven with ominous gloom above amazed men's heads;
So ominously, so at once, with clash and muttering jar
Swift, dark, on Moyra's fated field rolled down the cloud of war.