Heroic Romances of Ireland Part 12

I avoid thee, O lady, as heroes Avoid to meet friends in a strife; The hard spear thy hand shakes cannot injure, Nor the blade of thy thin gleaming knife; For the wrath pent within thee that rageth Is but weak, nor can cause mine affright: It were hard if the war my might wageth Must be quenched by a weak woman's might!

"Speak! and tell me, Cuchulain," cried Emer, "Why this shame on my head thou wouldst lay?

Before women of Ulster dishonoured I stand, And all women who dwell in the wide Irish land, And all folk who love honour beside: Though I came on thee, secretly creeping, Though oppressed by thy might I remain, And though great is thy pride in the battle, If thou leavest me, naught is thy gain: Why, dear youth, such attempt dost thou make?

"Speak thou, Emer, and say," said Cuchulain, "Should I not with this lady delay?

For this lady is fair, pare and bright, and well skilled, A fit mate for a monarch, in beauty fulfilled, And the billows of ocean can ride: She is lovely in countenance, lofty in race, And with handicraft skilled can fine needlework trace, Hath a mind that with firmness can guide:

And in steeds hath she wealth, and much cattle Doth she own; there is naught under sky A dear wife for a spouse should be keeping But that gift with this lady have I: Though the vow that I made thee I break, Thou shalt ne'er find champion Rich, like me, in scars; Ne'er such worth, such brilliance, None who wins my wars."

"In good sooth," answered Emer, "the lady to whom thou dost cling is in no way better than am I myself! Yet fair seems all that's red; seems white what's new alone; and bright what's set o'erhead; and sour are things well known! Men worship what they lack; and what they have seems weak; in truth thou hast all the wisdom of the time! O youth!"

she said, "once we dwelled in honour together, and we would so dwell again, if only I could find favour in thy sight!" and her grief weighed heavily upon her. "By my word," said Cuchulain, "thou dost find favour, and thou shalt find it so long as I am in life."

"Desert me, then!" cried Fand. "Nay," said Emer, "it is more fitting that I should be the deserted one." "Not so, indeed," said Fand. "It is I who must go, and danger rusheth upon me from afar." And an eagerness for lamentation seized upon Fand, and her soul was great within her, for it was shame to her to be deserted and straightway to return to her home; moreover the mighty love that she bare to Cuchulain was tumultuous in her, and in this fashion she lamented, and lamenting sang this song:

Mighty need compels me, I must go my way; Fame for others waiteth, Would I here could stay!

Sweeter were it resting Guarded by thy power, Than to find the marvels In Aed Abra's bower.

Emer! n.o.ble lady!

Take thy man to thee: Though my arms resign him, Longing lives in me.

Oft in shelters hidden Men to seek me came; None could win my trysting, I myself was flame.

Ah! no maid her longing On a man should set Till a love full equal To her own she get.

Fifty women hither, Emer! thou hast brought Thou wouldst Fand make captive, Hast on murder thought.

Till the day I need them Waits, my home within; Thrice thy host! fair virgins, These my war shall win.

Now upon this it was discerned by Manannan that Fand the daughter of Aed Abra was engaged in unequal warfare with the women of Ulster, and that she was like to be left by Cuchulain. And thereon Manannan came from the east to seek for the lady, and he was perceived by her, nor was there any other conscious of his presence saving Fand alone. And, when she saw Manannan, the lady was seized by great bitterness of mind and by grief, and being thus, she made this song:

Lo! the Son of the Sea-Folk from plains draws near Whence Yeogan, the Stream, is poured; 'Tis Manannan, of old he to me was dear, And above the fair world we soared.

Yet to-day, although excellent sounds his cry, No love fills my n.o.ble heart, For the pathways of love may be bent awry, Its knowledge in vain depart.

When I dwelt in the bower of the Yeogan Stream, At the Son of the Ocean's side, Of a life there unending was then our dream, Naught seemed could our love divide.

When the comely Manannan to wed me came, To me, as a spouse, full meet; Not in shame was I sold, in no chessmen's game The price of a foe's defeat.

When the comely Manannan my lord was made, When I was his equal spouse, This armlet of gold that I bear he paid As price for my marriage vows.

Through the heather came bride-maids, in garments brave Of all colours, two score and ten; And beside all the maidens my bounty gave To my husband a fifty men.

Four times fifty our host; for no frenzied strife In our palace was pent that throng, Where a hundred strong men led a gladsome life, One hundred fair dames and strong.

Manannan draws near: over ocean he speeds, From all notice of fools is he free; As a horseman he comes, for no vessel he needs Who rides the maned waves of the sea.

He hath pa.s.sed near us now, though his visage to view Is to all, save to fairies, forbid; Every troop of mankind his keen sight searcheth through, Though small, and in secret though hid.

But for me, this resolve in my spirit shall dwell, Since weak, being woman's, my mind; Since from him whom so dearly I loved, and so well, Only danger and insult I find.

I will go! in mine honour unsullied depart, Fair Cuchulain! I bid thee good-bye; I have gained not the wish that was dear to my heart, High justice compels me to fly.

It is flight, this alone that befitteth my state, Though to some shall this parting be hard: O thou son of Riangabra! the insult was great: Not by Laeg shall my going be barred.

I depart to my spouse; ne'er to strife with a foe Shall Manannan his consort expose; And, that none may complain that in secret I go, Behold him! his form I disclose!

Then that lady rose behind Manannan as he pa.s.sed, and Manannan greeted her: "O lady!" he said, "which wilt thou do? wilt thou depart with me, or abide here until Cuchulain comes to thee?" "By my troth," answered Fand, "either of the two of ye were a fitting spouse to adhere to; and neither of you two is better than the other; yet, Manannan, it is with thee that I go, nor will I wait for Cuchulain, for he hath betrayed me; and there is another matter, moreover, that weigheth with me, O thou n.o.ble prince!" said she, "and that is that thou hast no consort who is of worth equal to thine, but such a one hath Cuchulain already."

And Cuchulain saw the lady as she went from him to Manannan, and he cried out to Laeg: "What meaneth this that I see?" "'Tis no hard matter to answer thee," said Laeg. "Fand goeth away with Manannan the Son of the Sea, since she hath not been pleasing in thy sight!"

Then Cuchulain bounded three times high into the air, and he made three great leaps towards the south, and thus he came to Tara Luachra,[FN#37]

and there he abode for a long time, having no meat and no drink, dwelling upon the mountains, and sleeping upon the high-road that runneth through the midst of Luachra.

Then Emer went on to Emain, and there she sought out king Conor, and she told Conor of Cuchulain's state, and Conor sent out his learned men and the people of skill, and the Druids of Ulster, that they might seek for Cuchulain, and might bind him fast, and bring him with them to Emain. And Cuchulain strove to slay the people of skill, but they chanted wizard and fairy songs against him, and they bound fast his feet and his hands until he came a little to his senses. Then he begged for a drink at their hands, and the Druids gave him a drink of forgetfulness, so that afterwards he had no more remembrance of Fand nor of anything else that he had then done; and they also gave a drink of forgetfulness to Emer that she might forget her jealousy, for her state was in no way better than the state of Cuchulain. And Manannan shook his cloak between Cuchulain and Fand, so that they might never meet together again throughout eternity.

[FN#37] p.r.o.nounced Looch-ra: Tara Luachra is on the borders of Limerick and Kerry.

THE EXILE OF THE SONS' OF USNACH

INTRODUCTION

The version given in the following pages of the well-known tale of Deirdre has been translated from the Irish text of the Book of Leinster version as printed by Windisch in Irische Texte, vol. i. Readings from the two parallel texts of the Book of Lecan, and Egerton, 1782, have been used where the Leinster text is deficient or doubtful, but the older MS. has in the main been followed, the chief alterations being indicated in the notes. The only English translation hitherto given of this version is the unreliable one in Atlantis, vol. iii. There is a German translation in Thurneysen's Sagen aus dem alten Irland which may be consulted for literal renderings of most of the verse portions, which, however, are sometimes nearer the original than Thurneysen's renderings.

It was at first intended to place beside this version the much better known version of the tale given by the Glenn Masain ma.n.u.script and its variants; but, as this version is otherwise available in English,[FN#38] it has been thought better to omit most of it: a verse translation of Deirdre's final lament in this version has, however, been added for the purpose of comparing it with the corresponding lament in the Leinster text. These two poems are nearly of the same length, but have no other point in common; the lament in the Leinster version strikes the more personal note, and it has been suggested that it shows internal evidence that it must have been written by a woman.

The idea of Deirdre as a seer, which is so prominent in the Glenn Masain version of the tale, does not appear in the older Leinster text; the supernatural Druidic mist, which even in the Glenn Masain version only appears in the late ma.n.u.script which continues the story after the fifteenth-century ma.n.u.script breaks off, does not appear in the Book of Leinster; and the later version introduces several literary artifices that do not appear in the earlier one. That portion of the Glenn Masain version immediately following after Deirdre's lament is given as an instance of one of these, the common artifice of increase of horror at a catastrophe by the introduction of irrelevant matter, the tragedy of Deirdre's death being immediately followed by a cheerful account of the relationships of the chief heroes of the Heroic Period; a still better example of this practice in the old Irish literature is the almost comic relief that is introduced at the most tragic part of the tale of the murder of the son of Ronan.

[FN#38] See Irische Texte, vol. ii., and the Celtic Review, vol. i.

1904-1905.

THE EXILE OF THE SONS OF USNACH