Heroic Romances of Ireland Part 10

All the elves of Troom[FN#33] seem dead; All their mighty deeds have fled; For their Hound, who hounds surpa.s.sed, Elves have bound in slumber fast.

Ah! on me thy sickness swerves, Hound of Smith who Conor serves!

Sore my heart, my flesh must be: May thy cure be wrought by me.

Ah! 'tis blood my heart that stains, Sick for him who rode the plains: Though his land be decked for feast, He to seek its plain hath ceased.

He in Emain still delays; 'Tis those Shapes the bar that raise: Weak my voice is, dead its tone, He in evil form is shown.

Month-long, year-long watch I keep; Seasons pa.s.s, I know not sleep: Men's sweet speech strikes not mine ear; Naught, Riangabra's[FN#34] son, I hear.

[FN#33] Spelt Truim.

[FN#34] p.r.o.nounced Reen-gabra.

And, after that she had sung that song, Emer went forward to Emain that she might seek for Cuchulain; and she seated herself in the chamber where Cuchulain was, and thus she addressed him: "Shame upon thee!" she said, "to lie thus prostrate for a woman's love! well may this long sickbed of thine cause thee to ail!" And it was in this fashion that she addressed him, and she chanted this lay:

Stand up, O thou hero of Ulster!

Wake from sleep! rise up, joyful and sound!

Look on Conor the king! on my beauty, Will that loose not those slumbers profound?

See the Ulstermen's clear shining shoulders!

Hear their trumpets that call to the fight!

See their war-cars that sweep through the valleys, As in hero-chess, leaping each knight.

See their chiefs, and the strength that adorns them, Their tall maidens, so stately with grace; The swift kings, springing on to the battle, The great queens of the Ulstermen's race!

The clear winter but now is beginning; Lo! the wonder of cold that hangs there!

'Tis a sight that should warn thee; how chilly!

Of what length I yet of colour how bare!

This long slumber is ill; it decays thee: 'Tis like "milk for the full" the saw saith Hard is war with fatigue; deadly weakness Is a Prince who stands second to Death.

Wake! 'tis joy for the sodden, this slumber; Throw it off with a great glowing heat: Sweet-voiced friends for thee wait in great number: Ulster's champion! stand up on thy feet!

And Cuchulain at her word stood up; and he pa.s.sed his hand over his face, and he cast all his heaviness and his weariness away from him, and then he arose, and went on his way before him until he came to the enclosure that he sought; and in that enclosure Liban appeared to him.

And Liban spoke to him, and she strove to lead him into the fairy hill; but "What place is that in which Labraid dwelleth?" said Cuchulain. It is easy for me to tell thee!" she said:

Labra's home's a pure lake, whither Troops of women come and go; Easy paths shall lead thee thither, Where thou shalt swift Labra know.

Hundreds his skilled arm repelleth; Wise be they his deeds who speak: Look where rosy beauty dwelleth; Like to that think Labra's cheek.

Head of wolf, for gore that thirsteth, Near his thin red falchion shakes; Shields that cloak the chiefs he bursteth, Arms of foolish foes he breaks.

Trust of friend he aye requiteth, Scarred his skin, like bloodshot eye; First of fairy men he fighteth; Thousands, by him smitten, die.

Chiefs at Echaid[FN#35] Juil's name tremble; Yet his land-strange tale-he sought, He whose locks gold threads resemble, With whose breath wine-scents are brought.

More than all strife-seekers noted, Fiercely to far lands he rides; Steeds have trampled, skiffs have floated Near the isle where he abides.

Labra, swift Sword-Wielder, gaineth Fame for actions over sea; Sleep for all his watch sustaineth!

Sure no coward hound is he.

The chains on the necks of the coursers he rides, And their bridles are ruddy with gold: He hath columns of crystal and silver besides, The roof of his house to uphold.

[FN#35] p.r.o.nounced, apparently, Ech-ay, the ch like the sound in "loch."

"I will not go thither at a woman's call," said Cuchulain. "Let Laeg then go," said the lady, "and let him bring to thee tidings of all that is there." "Let him depart, then," said Cuchulain; and Laeg rose up and departed with Liban, and they came to the Plain of Speech, and to the Tree of Triumphs, and over the festal plain of Emain, and over the festal plain of Fidga, and in that place was Aed Abra, and with him his daughters.

Then Fand bade welcome to Laeg, and "How is it," said she, "that Cuchulain hath not come with thee?" "It pleased him not," said Laeg, "to come at a woman's call; moreover, he desired to know whether it was indeed from thee that had come the message, and to have full knowledge of everything." "It was indeed from me that the message was sent," she said; "and let now Cuchulain come swiftly to seek us, for it is for to-day that the strife is set." Then Laeg went back to the place where he had left Cuchulain, and Liban with him; and "How appeareth this quest to thee, O Laeg?" said Cuchulain. And Laeg answering said, "In a happy hour shalt thou go," said he, "for the battle is set for to-day;"

and it was in this manner that he spake, and he recited thus:

I went gaily through regions, Though strange, seen before: By his cairn found I Labra, A cairn for a score.

There sat yellow-haired Labra, His spears round him rolled; His long bright locks well gathered Round apple of gold.

On my five-folded purple His glance at length fell, And he said, "Come and enter Where Failbe doth dwell."

In one house dwells white Failbe, With Labra, his friend; And retainers thrice fifty Each monarch attend.

On the right, couches fifty, Where fifty men rest; On the left, fifty couches By men's weight oppressed.

For each couch copper frontings, Posts golden, and white; And a rich flashing jewel As torch, gives them light.

Near that house, to the westward, Where sunlight sinks down, Stand grey steeds, with manes dappled And steeds purple-brown.

On its east side are standing Three bright purple trees Whence the birds' songs, oft ringing The king's children please.

From a tree in the fore-court Sweet harmony streams; It stands silver, yet sunlit With gold's glitter gleams.

Sixty trees' swaying summits Now meet, now swing wide; Rindless food for thrice hundred Each drops at its side.

Near a well by that palace Gay cloaks spread out lie, Each with splendid gold fastening Well hooked through its eye.

They who dwell there, find flowing A vat of glad ale: 'Tis ordained that for ever That vat shall not fail.

From the hall steps a lady Well gifted, and fair: None is like her in Erin; Like gold is her hair.

And so sweet, and so wondrous Her words from her fall, That with love and with longing She breaks hearts of all.

"Who art thou?" said that lady, "For strange thou art here; But if Him of Murthemne Thou servest, draw near."