Poems by Denis Florence MacCarthy Part 10

"'Tis not through fear of thee that I am so,"

Ferdiah said, "for Erin doth not hold This day a champion I could not subdue."

And thus betwixt the twain this speech arose, And thus Cuchullin mourned and he replied:

CUCHULLIN.

O Ferdiah, if it be thou, Certain am I that on thy brow The blush should burn and the shame should rise, Degraded man whom the G.o.ds despise, Here at a woman's bidding to wend To fight thy fellow-pupil and friend.

FERDIAH.

O Cuchullin, O valiant man, Inflicter of wounds since the war began, O true champion, a man must come To the fated spot of his final home,-- To the sod predestined by fate's decree His resting-place and his grave to be.

CUCHULLIN.

Finavair, the daughter of Mave, Although thou art her willing slave, Not for thy long-felt love has been Promised to thee by the wily queen,-- No, it was but to test thy might That thou wert lured into this fatal fight.

FERDIAH.

My might was tested long ago In many a battle, as thou dost know, Long, O Hound of the gentle rule, Since we fought together in Scatha's school: Never a braver man have I seen, Never, I feel, hath a braver been.

CUCHULLIN.

Thou art the cause of what has been done, O son of Daman, Dare's son, Of all that has happened thou art the cause, Whom hither a woman's counsel draws-- Whom hither a wily woman doth send To measure swords with thy earliest friend.

FERDIAH.

If I forsook the field, O Hound, If I had turned from the battleground-- This battleground without fight with thee, Hard, oh, hard had it gone with me; Bad should my name and fame have been With King Ailill and with Mave the queen.

CUCHULLIN.

Though Mave of Croghan had given me food, Even from her lips, though all of good That the heart can wish or wealth can give Were offered to me, there does not live A king or queen on the earth for whom I would do thee ill or provoke thy doom.

FERDIAH.

O Cuchullin, thou victor in fight, Of battle triumphs the foremost knight; To what result the fight may lead, 'Twas Mave alone that prompted the deed; Not thine the fault, not thine the blame, Take thou the victory and the fame.

CUCHULLIN.

My faithful heart is a clot of blood, A feud thus forced cannot end in good; Oh, woe to him who is here to be slain!

Oh, grief to him who his life will gain!

For feats of valour no strength have I To fight the fight where my friend must die.

"A truce to these invectives," then broke in Ferdiah; "we far other work this day Have yet to do than rail with woman's words.

Say, what shall be our arms in this day's fight?"

"Till night," Cuchullin said, "the choice is thine, For yester morn the choice was given to me."

"Let us," Ferdiah answered, "then resort Unto our heavy, sharp, hard-smiting swords, For we are nearer to the end to-day Of this our fight, by hewing, than we were On yesterday by thrusting of the spears."

"So let us do, indeed," Cuchullin said.

Then on their arms two long great shields they took, And in their hands their sharp, hard-smiting swords.

Each hewed the other with such furious strokes That pieces larger than an infant's head Of four weeks' old were cut from out the thighs And great broad shoulder-blades of each brave chief.

And thus they persevered from early morn Till evening's close in hewing with the swords.

"Let us desist," at length Ferdiah said.

"Let us indeed desist, if the fit time Hath come," Cuchullin said; and so they ceased.

From them they cast their arms into the hands Of their two charioteers; and though that morn Their meeting was of two high-spirited men, Their separation, now that night had come, Was of two men dispirited and sad.

Their horses were not in one field that night, Their charioteers were warmed not at one fire.

That night they rested there, and in the morn Ferdiah early rose and sought alone The Ford of battle, for he knew that day Would end the fight, and that the hour drew nigh When one or both of them should surely fall.

Then was it for the first time he put on His battle suit of battle and of fight, Before Cuchullin came unto the Ford.

That battle suit of battle and of fight Was this: His ap.r.o.n of white silk, with fringe Of spangled gold around it, he put on Next his white skin. A leather ap.r.o.n then, Well sewn, upon his body's lower part He placed, and over it a mighty stone As large as any mill-stone was secured.

His firm, deep, iron ap.r.o.n then he braced Over the mighty stone--an ap.r.o.n made Of iron purified from every dross-- Such dread had he that day of the Gaebulg.

His crested helm of battle on his head He last put on--a helmet all ablaze From forty gems in each compartment set, Cruan, and crystal, carbuncles of fire, And brilliant rubies of the Eastern world.

In his right hand a mighty spear he seized, Destructive, sharply-pointed, straight and strong:-- On his left side his sword of battle swung, Curved, with its hilt and pommel of red gold.

Upon the slope of his broad back he placed His dazzling shield, around whose margin rose Fifty huge bosses, each of such a size That on it might a full-grown hog recline, Exclusive of the larger central boss That raised its prominent round of pure red gold.

Full many n.o.ble, varied, wondrous feats Ferdiah on that day displayed, which he Had never learned at any tutor's hand, From Uatha, or from Aife, or from her, Scatha, his early nurse in lonely Skye:-- But which were all invented by himself That day, to bring about Cuchullin's fall.

Cuchullin to the Ford approached and saw The many n.o.ble, varied, wondrous feats Ferdiah on that day displayed on high.

"O Laegh, my friend," Cuchullin thus addressed His charioteer, "I see the wondrous feats Ferdiah doth display on high to-day: All these on me in turn shall soon be tried, And therefore note, that if it so should chance I shall be first to yield, be sure to taunt, Excite, revile me, and reproach me so, That wrath and rage in me may rise the more:-- If I prevail, then let thy words be praise, Laud me, congratulate me, do thy best To stimulate my courage to its height."

"It shall be done, Cuchullin," Laegh replied.

Then was it that Cuchullin first a.s.sumed His battle suit of battle: then he tried Full many, various, n.o.ble, wondrous feats He never learned from any tutor's hands, From Uatha, or from Aife, or from her, Scatha, his early nurse in lonely Skye.

Ferdiah saw these various feats, and knew Against himself they soon would be applied.

"Say, O Ferdiah, to what arms shall we Resort in this day's fight?" Cuchullin said.

Ferdiah answered, "Unto thee belongs The choice of weapons now until the night."

"Let us then try the Ford Feat on this day,"

Replied Cuchullin. "Let us then, indeed,"

Rejoined Ferdiah, with a careless air Consenting, though in truth it was to him The cause of grief to say so, since he knew That in the Ford Feat lay Cuchullin's strength, And that he never failed to overthrow Champion or hero in that last appeal.

Great was the feat that was performed that day In and beside the Ford: the mighty two, The two great heroes, warriors, champions, chiefs Of western Europe--the two open hands Laden with gifts of the north-western world,-- The two beloved pillars that upheld The valour of the Gaels--the two strong keys That kept the bravery of the Gaels secure-- Thus to be brought together from afar To fight each other through the meddling schemes Of Ailill and his wily partner Mave.

From each to each the missive weapons flew From dawn of early morning to mid-day; And when mid-day had come, the ire of both Became more furious, and they drew more near.

Then was it that Cuchullin made a spring From the Ford's brink, and came upon the boss Of the great shield Ferdiah's arm upheld, That thus he might, above the broad shield's rim, Strike at his head. Ferdiah with a touch Of his left elbow, gave the shield a shake And cast Cuchullin from him like a bird, Back to the brink of the Ford. Again he sprang From the Ford's brink, and came upon the boss Of the great shield once more, to strike his head Over the rim. Ferdiah with a stroke Of his left knee made the great shield to ring, And cast Cuchullin back upon the brink, As if he only were a little child.

Laegh saw the act. "Alas! indeed," said Laegh, "The warrior casts thee from him in the way That an abandoned woman would her child.

He flings thee as a river flings its foam; He grinds thee as a mill would grind fresh malt; He fells thee as the axe does fell the oak; He binds thee as the woodbine binds the tree; He darts upon thee as a hawk doth dart Upon small birds, so that from this hour forth Until the end of time, thou hast no claim Or t.i.tle to be called a valorous man: Thou little puny phantom form," said Laegh.

Then with the rapid motion of the wind, The fleetness of a swallow on the wing, The fierceness of a dragon, and the strength Of a roused lion, once again up sprang Cuchullin, high into the troubled air, And lighted for the third time on the boss Of the broad shield, to strike Ferdiah's head Over the rim. The warrior shook the shield, And cast Cuchullin mid-way in the Ford, With such an easy effort that it seemed As if he scarcely deigned to shake him off.

Then, as he lay, a strange distortion came Upon Cuchullin; as a bladder swells Inflated by the breath, to such a size And fulness did he grow, that he became A fearful, many-coloured, wondrous Tuaig-- Gigantic shape, as big as a man of the sea, Or monstrous Fomor, so that now his form In perfect height over Ferdiah stood.

So close the fight was now, that their heads met Above, their feet below, their arms half-way Over the rims and bosses of their shields:-- So close the fight was now, that from their rims Unto their centres were their shields cut through, And loosed was every rivet from its hold; So close the fight was now, that their strong spears Were turned and bent and shivered point and haft; Such was the closeness of the fight they made That the invisible and unearthly hosts Of Spirits, Bocanachs and Bananachs, And the wild wizard people of the glen And of the air the demons, shrieked and screamed From their broad shields' reverberating rim, From their sword-hilts and their long-shafted spears: Such was the closeness of the fight they made, They forced the river from its natural course, Out of its bed, so that it might have been A couch whereon a king or queen might lie, For not a drop of water it retained, Except what came from the great tramp and splash Of the two heroes fighting in its midst.

Such was the fierceness of the fight they waged, That a wild fury seized upon the steeds The Gaels had gathered with them; in affright They burst their traces and their binding ropes, Nay even their chains, and panting fled away.

The women, too, and youths, by equal fears Inspired and scared, and all the varied crowd Of followers and non-combatants who there Were with the men of Erin, from the camp South-westward broke away, and fled the Ford.

At the edge-feat of swords they were engaged When this surprise occurred, and it was then Ferdiah an unguarded moment found Upon Cuchullin, and he struck him deep, Plunging his straight-edged sword up to the hilt Within his body, till his girdle filled With blood, and all the Ford ran red with gore From the brave battle-warrior's veins outshed.

This could Cuchullin now no longer bear Because Ferdiah still the unguarded spot Struck and re-struck with quick, strong, stubborn strokes; And so he called aloud to Laegh, the son Of Riangabra, for the dread Gaebulg.

The manner of that fearful feat was this: Adown the current was it sent, and caught Between the toes: a single spear would make The wound it made when entering, but once lodged Within the body, thirty barbs outsprung, So that it could not be withdrawn until The body was cut open where it lay.

And when of the Gaebulg Ferdiah heard The name, he made a downward stroke of his shield, To guard his body. Then Cuchullin thrust The unerring th.o.r.n.y spear straight o'er the rim, And through the breast-plate of his coat of mail, So that its farther half was seen beyond His body, after pa.s.sing through his heart.

Ferdiah gave an upward stroke of his shield, His breast to cover, though it was "the relief After the danger." Then the servant set The dread Gaebulg adown the flowing stream; Cuchullin caught it firmly 'twixt his toes, And from his foot a fearful cast he threw Upon Ferdiah with unerring aim.

Swift through the well-wrought iron ap.r.o.n guard It pa.s.sed, and through the stone which was as large As a huge mill-stone, cracking it in three, And so into his body, every part Of which was filled with the expanding barbs "That is enough: by that one blow I fall,"

Ferdiah said. "Indeed, I now may own That I am sickly after thee this day, Though it behoved not thee that I should fall By stroke of thine;" and then these dying words He added, tottering back upon the bank: