Poems by Denis Florence MacCarthy Part 9

When we were with Scatha once, It but seemed our valour's due That we should together fight, Both as one our sports pursue.

Thou wert then my dearest friend, Comrade, kinsman, thou wert all,-- Ah, how sad, if by my hand Thou at last should fall.

FERDIAH.

Much of honour shalt thou lose, We may then mere words forego:-- On a stake thy head shall be Ere the early c.o.c.k shall crow.

O Cuchullin, Cuailgne's pride, Grief and madness round thee twine; I will do thee every ill, For the fault is thine.

"Good, O Ferdiah, 'twas no knightly act,"

Cuchullin said, "to have come meanly here, To combat and to fight with an old friend, Through instigation of the wily Mave, Through intermeddling of Ailill the king; To none of those who here before thee came Was victory given, for they all fell by me:-- Thou too shalt win nor victory, nor increase Of fame in this encounter thou dost dare, For as they fell, so thou by me shall fall."

Thus was he saying and he spake these words, To which Ferdiah listened, not unmoved.

CUCHULLIN.

Come not to me, O champion of the host, Come not to me, Ferdiah, as my foe, For though it is thy fate to suffer most, All, all must feel the universal woe.

Come not to me defying what is right, Come not to me, thy life is in my power; Ah, the dread issue of each former fight Why hast thou not remembered ere this hour?

Art thou not bright with diverse dainty arms, A purple girdle and a coat of mail?

And yet to win the maid of peerless charms For whom thou dar'st the battle thou shalt fail.

Yes, Finavair, the daughter of the queen, The faultless form, the gold without alloy, The glorious virgin of majestic mien, Shalt not be thine, Ferdiah, to enjoy.

No, the great prize shall not by thee be won,-- A fatal lure, a false, false light is she, To numbers promised and yet given to none, And wounding many as she now wounds thee.

Break not thy vow, never with me to fight, Break not the bond that once thy young heart gave, Break not the truth we both so loved to plight, Come not to me, O champion bold and brave!

To fifty champions by her smiles made slaves The maid was proffered, and not slight the gift; By me they have been sent into their graves, From me they met destruction sure and swift.

Though vauntingly Ferbaeth my arms defied, He of a house of heroes prince and peer, Short was the time until I tamed his pride With one swift cast of my true battle-spear.

Srub Daire's valour too had swift decline: Hundreds of women's secrets he possessed, Great at one time was his renown as thine, In cloth of gold, not silver, was he dressed.

Though 'twas to me the woman was betrothed On whom the chiefs of the fair province smile, To shed thy blood my spirit would have loathed East, west, or north, or south of all the isle.

"Good, O Ferdiah," still continuing, spoke Cuchullin, "thus it is that thou shouldst not Have come with me to combat and to fight; For when we were with Scatha, long ago, With Uatha and with Aife, we were wont To go together to each battle-field, To every combat and to every fight, Through every forest, every wilderness, Through every darksome path and dangerous way."

And thus he said and thus he spake these words:

CUCHULLIN.

We were heart-comrades then,-- Comrades in crowds of men, In the same bed have lain, When slumber sought us; In countries far and near, Hurling the battle spear, Chasing the forest deer, As Scatha taught us.

"O Cuchullin of the beautiful feats,"

Replied Ferdiah, "though we have pursued Together thus the arts of war and peace, And though the bonds of friendship that we swore Thou hast recalled to mind, from me shall come Thy first of wounds. O Hound, remember not Our old companionship, which shall not now Avail thee, shall avail thee not, O Hound!"

"Too long here have we waited in this way,"

Again resumed Ferdiah. "To what arms, Say then, Cuchullin, shall we now resort?"

"The choice of arms is thine until the night,"

Cuchullin made reply; "for so it chanced That thou shouldst be the first to reach the Ford."

"Dost thou at all remember," then rejoined Ferdiah, "those swift missive spears with which We practised oft with Scatha in our youth, With Uatha and with Aife, and our friends?"

"Them I, indeed, remember well," replied Cuchullin. "If thou dost remember well, Let us to them resort," Ferdiah said.

Their missive weapons then on either side They both resorted to. Upon their arms They braced two emblematic missive shields, And their eight well-turned-handled lances took, Their eight quill-javelins also, and their eight White ivory-hilted swords, and their eight spears, Sharp, ivory-hafted, with hard points of steel.

Betwixt the twain the darts went to and fro, Like bees upon the wing on a fine day; No cast was made that was not sure to hit.

From morn to nigh mid-day the missiles flew, Till on the bosses of the brazen shields Their points were blunted, but though true the aim, And excellent the shooting, the defence Was so complete that not a wound was given, And neither champion drew the other's blood.

"'Tis time to drop these feats," Ferdiah said, "For not by such as these shall we decide Our battle here this day." "Let us desist,"

Cuchullin answered, "if the time hath come."

They ceased, and threw their missile shafts aside Into the hands of their two charioteers.

"What weapons, O Cuchullin, shall we now Resort to?" said Ferdiah. "Unto thee,"

Cuchullin answered, "doth belong the choice Of arms until the night, because thou wert The first that reached the Ford." "Well, let us, then,"

Ferdiah said, "resume our straight, smooth, hard, Well-polished spears with their hard flaxen strings."

"Let us resume them, then," Cuchullin said.

They braced upon their arms two stouter shields, And then resorted to their straight, smooth, hard, Well-polished spears, with their hard flaxen strings.[50]

'Twas now mid-day, and thus 'till eventide They shot against each other with the spears.

But though the guard was good on either side, The shooting was so perfect that the blood Ran from the wounds of each, by each made red.

"Let us now, O Cuchullin," interposed Ferdiah, "for the present time desist."

"Let us indeed desist," Cuchullin said "If, O Ferdiah, the fit time hath come."

They ceased, and laid their gory weapons down, Their faithful charioteers' attendant care.

Each to the other gently then approached, Each round the other's neck his hands entwined, And gave him three fond kisses on the cheek.

Their horses fed in the same field that night, Their charioteers were warmed at the same fire, Their charioteers beneath their bodies spread Green rushes, and beneath the heads the down Of wounded men's soft pillows. Then the skilled Professors of the art of healing came With herbs, which to the scars of all their wounds They put. Of every herb and healing plant That to Cuchullin's wound they did apply, He would an equal portion westward send Over the Ford, Ferdiah's wounds to heal.

So that the men of Erin could not say, If it should chance Ferdiah fell by him, That it was through superior skill and care Cuchullin was enabled him to slay.

Of each kind, too, of palatable food And sweet, intoxicating, pleasant drink, The men of Erin to Ferdiah sent, He a fair moiety across the Ford Sent northward to Cuchullin, where he lay; Because his own purveyors far surpa.s.sed In numbers those the Ulster chief retained: For all the federate hosts of Erin were Purveyors to Ferdiah, with the hope That he would beat Cuchullin from the Ford.

The Bregians[51] only were Cuchullin's friends, His sole purveyors, and their wont it was To come to him and talk to him at night.

That night they rested there. Next morn they rose And to the Ford of battle early came.

"What weapons shall we use to-day?" inquired Cuchullin. "Until night the choice is thine,"

Replied Ferdiah; "for the choice of arms Has. .h.i.therto been mine." "Then let us take Our great broad spears to-day," Cuchullin said, "And may the thrusting bring us to an end Sooner than yesterday's less powerful darts.

Let then our charioteers our horses yoke Beneath our chariots, so that we to-day May from our horses and our chariots fight."

Ferdiah answered: "Let it so be done."

And then they braced their two broad, full-firm shields Upon their arms that day, and in their hands That day they took their great broad-bladed spears.

And thus from early morn to evening's close They smote each other with such dread effect That both were pierced, and both made red with gore,-- Such wounds, such hideous clefts in either breast Lay open to the back, that if the birds Cared ever through men's wounded frames to pa.s.s, They might have pa.s.sed that day, and with them borne Pieces of quivering flesh into the air.

When evening came, their very steeds were tired, Their charioteers depressed, and they themselves Worn out--even they the champions bold and brave.

"Let us from this, Ferdiah, now desist,"

Cuchullin said; "for see, our charioteers Droop, and our very horses flag and fail, And when fatigued they yield, so well may we."

And further thus he spoke, persuading rest:--

CUCHULLIN.

Not with the obstinate rage and spite With which Fomorian pirates fight Let us, since now has fallen the night, Continue thus our feud; In brief abeyance it may rest, Now that a calm comes o'er each breast:-- When with new light the world is blest, Be it again renewed."

"Let us desist, indeed," Ferdiah said, "If the fit time hath come."--And so they ceased.

From them they threw their arms into the hands Of their two charioteers. Each of them came Forward to meet the other. Each his hands Put round the other's neck, and thus embraced, Gave to him three fond kisses on the cheek.

Their horses fed in the same field that night; Their charioteers were warmed by the same fire.

Their charioteers beneath their bodies spread Green rushes, and beneath their heads the down Of wounded men's soft pillows. Then the skilled Professors of the art of healing came To tend them and to cure them through the night.

But they for all their skill could do no more, So numerous and so dangerous were the wounds, The cuts, and clefts, and scars so large and deep, But to apply to them the potent charms Of witchcraft, incantations, and barb spells, As sorcerers use, to stanch the blood and stay The life that else would through the wounds escape:-- Of every charm of witchcraft, every spell, Of every incantation that was used To heal Cuchullin's wounds, a full fair half Over the Ford was westward sent to heal Ferdiah's hurts: of every sort of food, And sweet, intoxicating, pleasant drink The men of Erin to Ferdiah sent, He a fair moiety across the Ford Sent northward to Cuchullin where he lay, Because his own purveyors far surpa.s.sed In number those the Ulster chief retained.

For all the federate hosts of Erin were Purveyors to Ferdiah, with the hope That he would beat Cuchullin from the Ford.

The Bregians only were Cuchullin's friends-- His sole purveyors--and their wont it was To come to him, and talk with him at night.

They rested there that night. Next morn they rose, And to the Ford of battle forward came.

That day a great, ill-favoured, lowering cloud Upon Ferdiah's face Cuchullin saw.

"Badly," said he, "dost thou appear this day, Ferdiah, for thy hair has duskier grown This day, and a dull stupour dims thine eyes, And thine own face and form, and what thou wert In outward seeming have deserted thee."