Chapter IV: Book II

These were Maev’s words. Then messengers went forth
To Maev’s own seven sons, the seven Mahn-yas,
That each might come, each with his folk and cantred,
To Croohan on Moy Wee. And messengers
Went forth unto each king and under-king
And prince and chief through the Four Fifths of Erin,
That each might come with his own folk and cantred
To join that hosting.
It was on an eve,
While all were waiting for those many hosts
And bands and troops to come unto Rath Croohan,
That Maev and Al-yill, with their kingly household,
Were feasting in their royal house. And this
Was the array of that most royal house:—
It was round, vast, and built of powerful oak,
Roofed o’er with shingles; and it held within it
Seven concentric ranks of imdas, railed
With bronze, and panelled with choice, rich red yew.
And there were brought into that house that night
The newest of each kind of pleasant food
And oldest of each kind of pleasant drink;
And when each man had eaten and had drunk
His measure and his full sufficiency,
Al-yill the son of Mawta Murrisc said
Aloud:—“Let now some tale be told to us.”
“What tale wouldst thou have told?” asked Findabair.
“Let it,” said Al-yill, “be some tale from Ulster;
For (since we soon shall go upon our hosting)
To hear some tale or famous history
Of those famed tribes and that famed warlike folk
Toward whom we go, will indeed be to us
A pastime, and will while away the eve.”
“Let it,” said Maev, “be that most woful tale
Of the Three Sons of Usna and their deaths;
For ’tis a tale which men hear willingly.”
“And who shall tell the tale?” asked Findabair.
“Who,” answered Maev, “but agèd Lowercam,
The woman-poet, satirist, and envoy,
Who is in exile here in Croohan?”—Now
This was the reason in Maev’s mind for choosing
That tale. She deemed that Fergus son of Roy,
Who was there with them in that house that night,
Would be (when he should freshly hear this tale
Of all the wrong which he had borne from Conor)
So much the more ready and fresh and eager
To help her with his kingly hero-valour
On that great hosting to the lands of Ulster.

Throughout that household then there was great silence;
And Lowercam began her tale and told it.
The men of Ulster once (she said) were drinking
At nightfall on the floor of the house of Faylim,
Conor’s own High-historian. And the wife
Of Faylim was presiding o’er those hosts,
Above them; and she served and dealt to them;
And she was great with child. Horns brimmed with ale,
Cause of loud mirth, passed round; and shares of food
Passed round; and mixed inebriate shouts were heard.
When each was faring to his sleeping-place
Within that house, the wife of Faylim too
Fared to her sleeping-place; and, as she fared
Across the wide-floored house, the child within her
Cried, so that everywhere inside that liss
Its cry was heard. The men of Ulster rose,
Each man against the other, when they heard
The shrill, lone, terror-causing, grief-full cry.
But Shenca, straight, the truly-prudent one,
Rose up and called to them: “Stir not yourselves,
Ye men; but let the woman come up hither,
That thus the cause and presage of that cry
May be made known to us.” They took the woman
To truly-prudent Shenca, then,—that hero
Whose words of eloquence are strong to calm
The hosts of Ulster, and whose calming words
Might still the war and tumult of the world.
Whilst they were passing through the wide-floored house,
Faylim, the woman’s husband, High-historian
And Poet unto Conor, said to her:
“What was that cry which we have heard ascending,
O woman? By our ears the cry was heard.
Great terror has seized hold of me. My heart
Is wounded as by weapons.” Unto him
Shenca, the truly-prudent one, said then:
“Trouble the woman not; but let her now
Be led to Cathbad, the good marvellous Druid;
For ’tis with him that there is knowledge.” Then
The woman moved towards Cathbad, and she said,
Speaking to Cathbad, the renownéd Druid:
“Let Cathbad, the good, lovable Druid, hear me;
For not with me are the white words of knowledge
Wherewith to answer Faylim; for the woman
Knows not herself what stirs beneath her breast.”
’Twas then that Cathbad said: “O wife of Faylim,
Beneath thy breast there cried a yellow-haired
Bright maiden, with bright blue-green eyes, and cheeks
Crimson like foxglove, and a faultless treasure
Of teeth like autumn snow, and two curved lips
Red like red rowan-fruit o’er shining snow.
Beneath thy breast there cried a yellow-haired
Bright maiden, with long shining waving hair.
High heroes strongly will contend for her.
Noble high-kings will deeply long for her.
There will be woe throughout this Fifth of Conor’s.
There cried beneath thy breast a yellow-haired
Bright maiden, with red lips like fruit of rowan.
High-queens shall envy them. High-queens shall envy
Her excellent, unblemished, faultless form.”
And Cathbad laid his hand against the woman,
So that the child was troubled beneath his hand.
“Yea, it is true,” he said, “it is a maiden,
Indeed, who is troubled there. And Daerdra, ‘Trouble,’
Shall be her name: and there shall be much ill
Because of her, through all this Fifth of Erin.”
After that, then, the child was born; and Cathbad,
When she was brought unto him, said to her:
“O Daerdra, ‘Trouble,’ comely, of renown
Most wonderful, ’tis in thy time of life,
That woe and torture shall arrive for Ulster.
There will be envy, there will be hate in Ulster;
There will be wars, even after thy time of life,
Through thee, indeed, O generous daughter of Faylim.
It is through thee, and in thy time of life,
That ears of men shall hear of a sad exile,—
The exile of the three high Sons of Usna.
It is through thee, and in thy time of life,
That a dread deed shall be performed in Avvin,
In violation of the words of Fergus.
It is through thee, and in thy time of life,
That ears of men shall hear of a great exile,—
The exile of great Fergus from our Ulster.
Thou shalt thyself perform a rough, dread deed,
In anger towards the king of high-proud Ulster.
Thy grave shall be in a lone, rock-high place.
Thy history shall be renowned, O Daerdra.”

“Let the maid-child be slain,” the warriors said.
But Conor, the High-king of Ulster, looking
Upon the child, straight loved it; and he said:
“Not so, O warriors; since it is not well
To war against things fated; for things fated
May not by us be so avoided. Truly,
Beautiful is the smiling of this child.
Let her be brought to me at dawn to-morrow:
She shall be reared obedient to myself;
And she shall be the wife who shall be near me.”
The chiefs were silent; for they dared not speak
Against the words and verdict of the King.
But Fergus son of Roy soon rose and spoke,
And said: “O Conor, O High-king of Ulster,
Thy judgment errs not. All things shall be done
According to thy ruling and thy judgment.”
And all was done even as Conor had said.
The child was reared within a closed-up liss
Nigh the high mound of splendid Avvin Maha;
And none (said Lowercam) was e’er admitted
Within that liss, except these four alone,—
Namely, her gentle, careful foster-mother
And foster-father, who there tended her;
And Conor, the High-sovereign; and myself,
Lowercam;—they dared not close me out,
I being the skilled she-satirist. And Daerdra
By Conor there was reared, until she was
The maiden of most splendour which there was
Throughout the expanse of Erin. And to Conor
She was the treasure which he loved more strongly
Than any treasure. And the time drew nigh
When she should go to his high pillow.
Then,
One day upon white snow in one night fallen,
The foster-father of the maid was skinning
A cooking-calf to seethe for her; and Daerdra,—
I being with her there,—perceived a raven
Drink the calf’s blood upon the snow. ’Twas then
She cried: “O Lowercam, how lovable
To me that man would be on whom should be
These three pure colours, namely, on his hair
The black of this black raven; on his cheeks
The red of this red blood, and on his body
The white of this white snow.” Whereon I said:
“O maiden, dignity and bliss be thine!
In Conor’s own king’s household, very near
To where thou art, that man is; and his name
Is Neesha son of Usna.” And she said:
“’Twill not be well with me until I see him.”
At day-dawn on the morrow, while the sun
Rose through the beautiful, lustrous clouds of dawning
Neesha the son of Usna stood alone
On the high mound of splendid Avvin Maha,
Singing his rich andord. And, O ye men
(Said Lowercam), sonorous and melodious
Was the andord sung by the Sons of Usna,
By Neesha and by Annly and Ardawn,
The three high sons of Usna. Every cow
And every beast, hearing that rich andord,
Yielded a two-thirds increase of her milk;
And to all folk who heard that melody
It was their fill and their sufficiency
Of harmony and calm and peacefulness.
Moreover, men, high was the valour too
Of those three sons. E’en had the Hosts of Ulster
Been all around them in one place to slay them,—
They three being back to back amidst those hosts,—
The hosts would not have gained the battle o’er them,
So good at warding-off and at defence
Were those three valorous, dauntless hero-ones.
And they were fleet as hounds are in the chase:
They slew the fleet, wild deer by their own fleetness:
Their leap was like the salmon’s.—
And so Daerdra,
Lying at dawn in her still lying-place,
Heard that unrivalled one; and in her mind
She knew that it was Neesha. Then she rose,
Unseen by those who reared her. She passed out,
Outside the liss, and climbed on the high mound
Of Avvin Maha, and saw Neesha there.
She passed as though she would pass unperceived.
He knew her not. He said, as she went past:
“Fair is that heifer who goes past us there.”
“There must be heifers where there are no bulls,”
She answered. That struck fear into him. Truly,
He knew her then. “Maiden,” he said to her,
“The Bull of all this Fifth, namely, the King,
Will be for thee.” “I would have leave to choose
Between you two,” she said, “and I would choose
A young bull even like thee.” “Not so,” said he.
He held in memory the words of Cathbad.
“Is it refusing me thou sayest that?”
She asked. “It is refusing thee indeed,”
He answered her.
With speed and vehemence
And fervency she sprang at him and seized
The two ears on his head. She said, “Two ears
Of shame and of disgrace these ears will be
Unless thou takest me!” “Arise from me,
Remove from me, O woman,” Neesha said.
“I will be thine,” she said; whereat from Neesha
There rose his loud andord; and when the Ultonians
Heard the andord, as thus it rose from him,
They rose against each other,—each incited
To mutual wounding, and to broils, and war.
The Sons of Usna came to restrain their brother.
“What ails thee,” said they, “that the men of Ulster
Thus wound each other by thy fault?” He told
What had been done to him. “Evil,” said they,
“Will come of it; but thou shalt never be
Beneath disgrace and taint and shame and scorn
While we two live. We will depart with her
Into some other land. There is no king
In Erin who will not make joy before us.”

Those were their counsels. They went forth that night.
They took with them thrice fifty fighting men,
Thrice fifty gillies, and thrice fifty women,
And Daerdra ’midst them, so that none might see her.
After that night wherein they fled with her,
They for a long while lived beneath protection,
All round wide Erin,—though their annihilation
Was oft attempted in the lands of Erin
By the contrivances and plans of Conor,
South-westward from white-foaming Assaroe,
And round the south, until they turned once more
North-eastward to Ben Edar. In the end
The Ultonians drove them o’er the sea to Alba.
There they abode in a desert. In a season,
When the wild creatures of the mountains failed them,
They took to falling on the kine and sheep
Of the men of Alba, till the men of Alba
Rose in one day to attack them. Then they went
And took war-service with the King of Alba.
They set their houses on his green. They slept not
In the King’s house. It was because of Daerdra
That they did that,—so that no man might see her:
They feared they might be slain because of her.
Then, on a time, one day, at early morn,
The steward of the king of Alba took his circuit
Around their houses; and he saw that pair,
Neesha and Daerdra, in their sleep. He went
Forthwith and roused the king. “We ne’er have found
Until this day,” he said, “a woman worthy
To be thy mate. With Neesha Son of Usna
There is a woman worthy to be mated
With the king of the Western World. Let Neesha, therefore,
Straightway be slain; and let this woman sleep
With thee thyself,” the steward said. “Nay,” the king said,
“But rise and supplicate her secretly,
Daily to come to me.” That then was done.
What the steward said to her she told to Neesha.
When the king got from her only refusal,
The sons of Usna were commissioned forth
Into hard combats, battles, and hard dangers,
So that they might be slain; but they were firm
In every place of wounding and of danger.
Nought was attained. The men of Alba then
Were mustered strongly to attack those sons
And slay them. She was told that. And she told
Neesha immediately. “Ye must depart,”
She said. “Unless ye will depart to-night,
Ye will be slain to-morrow.” So that night
They left the king; and a long time they wandered
In desert woods and lands, and in lone glens
Set up their booths and tents. In time they came
Unto Loch Etive and subdued the lands
Around Loch Etive; and they made a stronghold;
And for a while in peace they sojourned there.
These things were told, now, to the men of Ulster,
Who spoke together, and then said: “O Conor,
This is to all our minds a cause of grief,—
The Sons of Usna to be wandering
In hostile lands, finding their death and end,
Because of one bad woman.” Conor said:
“Let one go forth to them to take that message,
And offer them protection here in Avvin.”
Then I (said Lowercam) was ordered forth
To bear that message to the Sons of Usna.
I found them, and they gave me trustful kisses,
Kindly and fervently and loyally.
And I, at finding them, wept floodlike tears;
Because there were no two on the ridge of the world
Who were so dear to me as were those two,
Neesha and Daerdra. Then I spake my message.
“We will return,” said Neesha, “if great Fergus
Will come to be our safeguard and our pledge;
And if a son of Conor’s and a chief
Amidst the chiefs of Ulster will await
To take our hands on landing.” I returned
To give this word. When Conor heard this word,
He weighed that matter for a space and season.
Among the heroes of the Western World
There was not any greater than was Fergus,
In stalwartness and beauty and high race,
In bounteousness and kindness; and to Conor
He, without change, was ever dear and loyal.
He by his prowess had broken thirty battles
O’er chiefs in distant lands, e’en to the City
Of Moorn in the far Land of Ice and Snow.
Conor, then, pondered for a space and season.
Then he took Fergus to a place apart,
And said: “O royal warrior of the world,
If thou wert sent to fetch the Sons of Usna,
And they, in violation of thy safeguard,
Were slain,—a thing which never would be done,—
What wouldst thou do?” And this (said Lowercam)
Was what great Fergus said: he said, “O King,
Thy own blood, thy own flesh, I would not touch;
But there is not another man of Ulster
Whom I should find doing them injury,
Who from my hands would not obtain his death.”
“O royal warrior of the world,” said Conor,
“Thou shalt go forth to fetch the Sons of Usna;
For ’tis with thee that they will come. Depart
To-morrow; and, when coming from the east,
Land at the doon of Borrig son of Annty,
Where Cormac, my own son, and Duffa Dael
Will take their hands on landing. And, besides,
Give me thy word that when they shall arrive,
No stop or stay shall be allowed to them;
So that the first food which they eat in Erin
May be with me in Avvin.” Fergus promised;
And early on the morrow he arose,
And took with him no hosts or multitudes
Except his own two sons, Illann Finn, namely,
And Bwinn-ye the Rude-Red. And they set forth
Upon that mission and that embassy.
Then Conor sent for Borrig son of Annty.
He said: “Hast thou a feast for me, O Borrig?”
“I have,” said Borrig. “It was possible
To make it, but it was not possible
To bear it hither.” “That being so,” said Conor,
“Give it to Fergus, when he comes to thee.
And it belongs to his high hero-gassa
And to his powerful hero-prohibitions,
Both to refuse a feast when offered one,
And to forsake a feast, ere it be ended.”
Borrig, instructed, fared to his own doon.
And Conor sent for Cormac, his own son,
With Duffa Dael, the chafer-tongued of Ulster.
“Go forth,” he said, “unto Dunseverick
To meet the Sons of Usna when they come there;
And take their hands on landing.” So he spake,
Giving them wrong direction.
As for Fergus,
He, with his own two sons, Illann Finn, namely,
And Bwinn-ye the Rude-Red, in his own boat,
The Eura, sailed north-eastward, till he came
To the strong place where dwelt the Sons of Usna,
And to Loch Etive. And (said Lowercam)
’Tis thus that those three Sons of Usna were:—
They had three wide and spacious hunting-booths;
And in the booth wherein they cooked their food,
Therein they ate it not; and in the booth
Wherein they ate, therein they rested not.
And Fergus let from him a mighty shout
Within the harbour, so that it was heard
Through all that country near to him. And thus
Were Neesha and bright Daerdra,—with the Kenncaem
Of Conor placed between them, while they played
At royal feehill on the Kenncaem. Then
Neesha looked up and said: “I hear the shout
Of a man of Erin.” Daerdra, too, had heard
The shout: she knew it was the shout of Fergus;
But she concealed it from them. And again
Fergus let forth from him his mighty shout
Within the harbour; so that Neesha said:
“I hear another shout. It is the shout
Of a man of Erin.” “It is not,” said Daerdra,
“It is, indeed, the shout of a man of Alba.”
But Fergus let from him his third loud shout
Within the harbour; and the Sons of Usna
Then knew it was, indeed, the shout of Fergus.
And Neesha bade Ardawn go to the shore
To meet great Fergus: whereon Daerdra said
That she had recognized the first loud shout
Which Fergus had let forth. “Wherefore,” said Neesha,
“Didst thou conceal it?” Daerdra said to him:
“I saw a vision in the night last night,—
Namely, three birds which came to us from Avvin,
Carrying in their mouths three drops of honey:
And they with us left their three drops of honey;
But took with them three drops of our own blood.”
“How dost thou judge that vision?” Neesha said.
“Thus,” answered she. “Fergus has come to us,
Out of our native land to bear us peace;
And honey is not sweeter to a man
Than is an embassy of peace. The three
Sips of our blood which the birds took from us,—
They are yourselves who now will go with Fergus,
And be betrayed.”
But it seemed ill to them
That Daerdra should speak so; and they were grieved;
And Neesha bade Ardawn go to the shore
To meet great Fergus. And Ardawn went down;
And when he saw great Fergus and his sons,
He gave them each three kisses fervently
And loyally, and took them to the stronghold
Where Neesha was with Daerdra; and they, too,
Gave their three kisses very fervently
To Fergus and his sons. And Neesha sought
Their tidings of all Erin; and in special
Their tidings of the Ulster Fifth. And Fergus
Replied: “These tidings are indeed our best,—
Namely, that Conor has sent myself to fetch you;
And I am now your warranty and safeguard,
And I am dear to you, and true, and loyal;
And I have taken my word, and it is on me
Now to fulfil my covenant and safeguard.
And Cormac son of Conor son of Fahtna,
And Duffa Dael of Ulster will be waiting
At Borrig’s Doon to take your hands on landing.”
“It is not fit that ye should go,” said Daerdra;
“For greater is your store of wealth and riches
In Alba than it e’er will be in Erin.”
And it was then, indeed (said Lowercam),
That Fergus spake these very fervent words:—
“Better than all things is one’s native land;
For not delightful unto any man
Is any store of wealth, however great,
Unless he sees his own dear native land.”

(Lowercam paused; for she perceived that Fergus,
Hearing these words which he once so had spoken,
Wept o’er his breast his flood-like showers of tears;
And all perceived that like a sudden storm
He rose; and, rushing like a sudden storm,
Passed from the house. But Lowercam went on.)

When Fergus so had said these thoughtful words,
“Better than all things is one’s native land;
For not delightful unto any man
Is any store of wealth, howsoe’er great,
Unless he sees his native land,” with fervour
Neesha replied: “That thing is true, O Fergus;
For dearer to myself is our own Erin
Than Alba is, although by hap in Alba
I might obtain more wealth.”
“My word and safeguard
And warranty are firm and strong for you,”
Fergus said, urging. “They are firm and strong,”
Said Neesha. “We indeed will go with thee
Again to Erin.”
Now (said Lowercam)
It verily was not with Daerdra’s will
That all these things were said. And she was trying
To hinder them; but Fergus son of Roy
Gave them his word that even if all the men
Of Erin should betray them at one time,
Not shield or sword or cathbarr should protect
One such betraying from the wrath and vengeance
Which he, great Fergus, would inflict on him.
And Neesha answered very ardently:
“O generous Fergus, Fergus of Avvin Maha,
Thy word is firm, and we will go with thee
Again to Erin and to Avvin Maha.”
They passed that night away. Upon the morrow,
Though early was the singing of the birds
Amid the oaks, yet earlier than that,
In the pale morn, was the fresh early rising
Of Fergus and of Neesha. And they went
Down to the creek and made their curraghs ready,
And made the Eura ready; and ere yet
The sun was high, Fergus and his two sons,
And the three Sons of Usna,—Neesha, namely,
And Annly and Ardawn,—with bright-cheeked Daerdra,
And with their folk and people, bore away
Along the sea, out to the awful ocean,
To go to Erin. As for mournful Daerdra,
She from the Eura gazed along their track,
Back to the lands of Alba; and she said:
“My love to thee, thou land there in the east;
And I am wearying, indeed, at leaving
The borders of thy cherishing creeks and havens,
And thy smooth-flowering, unblemished plains,
And thy green-sided hills. And very little
Indeed does it now profit us to leave them.”
Then o’er the wave-voice of the billowing sea
She sang her words of highest love of Alba.
“Belovéd land, thou land there in the east,
Alba with wonders! I would never leave thee,
Did I not leave with Neesha, my belovéd.
Belovéd are Doon Feea and Doon Finn
And the high doon above them; and belovéd
Is Innish Draiguen o’er its strong loud beach.
Kyle Cooan! O thick-branching wood of Cooan,
Into which Annly oft would wend. Alas!
Short seemed the time unto myself and Neesha,
While we were in yon paling land of Alba.
Glen Lawee! in Glen Lawee I would sleep
Beneath a gentle crag. Deer-flesh and fish
And badger-flesh they brought me in Glen Lawee.
Glen Massan! in Glen Massan grows the garlic,
Tall and pure-white. We had a rocking sleep
Above the white-haired inver of Glen Massan.
Glen Etive! O Glen Etive! there I built
My first house. Tender are its circling woods.
A cattle-fold for sunshine is Glen Etive.
Glen Urkeen! O Glen Urkeen is a glen
With straight, fair ridges. At his age no man
Was prouder than was Neesha in Glen Urkeen.
And Glen Dau Roo! My love to every man
Who dwells therein. Sweet is the cuckoo’s voice
From curved bough on the peak o’er Glen Dau Roo.
And Innish Draiguen o’er its strong, loud beach!
Dear are its pure-brinked waters where they shine
Above pure sands; and I would ne’er have left it,
Had I not left with my beloved, with Neesha.”

So o’er the waves she sang her mournful words,
While to their own dear land and heritage
The Sons of Usna travelled. And delight
Shone on the brows of these, while with their oars
They beat the water-ways, until at length
Beneath Doon Borrig, that long-famous doon
Upon the cliff-high bounds of high-proud Ulster
They put their prows on shore. And Borrig ran
Down to that shore to take their hands on landing.
He made great joy toward Fergus and his sons;
And gave three kisses to the Sons of Usna;
And said to Neesha that great grief was his
That Cormac son of Conor son of Fahtna,
And Duffa Dael of Ulster had not come
North to his doon to take their hands on landing.
Then, in a little while, he said to Fergus:
“I have a feast prepared for thee, O Fergus;
And it belongs to thy high hero-gassa,
And to thy strong high hero-prohibitions,
Both to refuse a feast when offered one,
And to forsake a feast ere it be ended.”
When Fergus heard these words which Borrig spake,
He flushed an angry red from crown to ground.
“Thou hast done ill, O Borrig,” Fergus said,
“To place me under gassa, seeing that Conor
Put my strong word on me to bring the Sons
Of Usna south to Avvin on the day
When they should land in Erin.” Borrig said:
“I place thee under gassa, yea, such gassa,
That no true hero henceforth will endure thee,
Unless thou comest to consume my feast.”
Then Fergus asked of Neesha what to do
Concerning that. “Do,” answered Daerdra, fiercely,
“That which appears the best to thee! Abandon
The Sons of Usna. Drink thy feast. But truly
’Tis a high price to pay for any feast,
Thus to abandon them.” It seemed to Fergus
It was an evil thing to break his gassa
And his high hero-prohibitions. Sadly
He said to Daerdra: “I abandon not
The Sons of Usna; for my own two sons,
True Illann Finn and Bwinn-ye the Rude-Red,
Go at their sides to Avvin. And my word
And warranty go with them too,” said Fergus.
“That is enough of excellence,” said Neesha;
“For no one yet hath e’er defended us
In battle or in combat or in conflict,
Except ourselves.” And Neesha, in great anger,
Moved from the spot. And Daerdra followed him;
And Annly followed, and Ardawn, and all
Their folk and people, and the Sons of Fergus.
Yet it was not with Daerdra’s will and counsel
That they made forth; and they left Fergus there
Gloomy and sorrowful. Howbeit, to Fergus
One thing seemed sure,—that if the Five Great Fifths
Of Erin should take counsel all together,
In the one spot, they still would not attain
To daring to infringe his word and safeguard.
As to the Sons of Usna, they moved forward
By each well-shortened way and fair direction,
Till Daerdra said to them: “O Sons of Usna,
How will it hurt you, though ye wait awhile?
I now would give you a wise, fitting counsel;
Although ye may not do it for me.” Neesha
Replied: “What then, O woman, is thy counsel?”
She said, “To go to Rathlin, there, between
Erin and Alba; and to stay in Rathlin
Till Fergus shall have taken his feast; and that
Will be a keeping of the word of Fergus;
And to yourselves, O glorious Sons of Usna,
’Twill be an increase of your length of princeship.”
“Toward us that is a saying of great ill,”
Said the two sons of Fergus: “and to us
It is impossible to do that counsel.
E’en were there not the might of your own hands
And ours, and the word of powerful Fergus
Protecting you, ye would not be betrayed.”
“Mourning and woe came with that word of Fergus,”
Said Daerdra, “when he left us for a feast.”
And she was in great grief and great dejection
At having come to Erin on the word
Of Fergus. And she said: “Woe that we came
To Erin on the word of too-wild Fergus
The son of Roy; and bitter is my heart.
My heart to-day is as one clot of sorrow
Beneath great shame. Alas! O princely Sons,
Your end of days has come.” Neesha replied:
“Say not these words, O eager, vehement Daerdra,
O woman who art brighter than the sun.
The word and warranty of generous Fergus
Are strong to us.” But still she grieved and said:
“Alas! I grieve for you, O Sons of Usna.
To come from Alba of the red, swift deer,—
Perpetual will be the woe from it.”
After that arguing again they journeyed
By each well-shortened way and fair direction,
Until, half-way upon their way to Avvin,
Daerdra remained behind in a deep glen;
And sleep descended on her; and they left her
Without perceiving it. But in a while
Neesha perceived it; and he turned to meet her;
And she was rising from her sleep. He said:
“Why didst thou stay behind me here, O Queen?”
“I had a sleep,” said Daerdra; “and a vision
And dream appeared to me.” “What dream?” said Neesha.
Daerdra said: “Sad the vision which appeared!
I beheld each of you without his head;
And Illann Finn without his head. Of help
There was not any.” Neesha said to her:
“O Daerdra, heed not visions of thy sleep.
Thy mouth hath sung to us nothing save evil,
O shining, radiant damsel!” Daerdra said:
“Better to me were ill for every man
Than for you three, O gentle Sons of Usna,
With whom I have searched sea and mighty land.”
After those words, again they journeyed forward,
Until they came unto the Height of Willows
Not far from splendid Avvin. And thence Daerdra,
While gazing outward from herself, perceived
A hateful cloud, whereat she said these words:
“O Neesha, look upon thy cloud. I see it
Before me in the air. Above green Avvin
I see a very red, thin cloud of blood.
A sudden starting has laid hold of me
Before yon cloud. Like to a sod of blood
Is yon red, awful cloud I see before me.
And I would counsel you, dear Sons of Usna,
Not to proceed to-night to Avvin Maha,
With all this danger which there is on you;
But let us go instead south to Doon Dalgan,
To Dectora and Sooaltim; and later,
When Fergus shall have come to us, we then
Will go to Avvin.” Neesha angrily
Answered wise, red-cheeked Daerdra: “Since, indeed,
There is no fear on us, we will not do
This counsel which thou givest.” And she, weeping,
Said: “It has seldom happened before this,
O thou descendant of distinguished Rury,
That we have been without accord in counsel,
Myself and thou, O Neesha. On the day
When Manannawn bestowed on us a cup,
Thou wouldst not on that day have been against me,
I say to thee, O Neesha. On the day
When thou didst bear me with thee on our flight
Across white-foaming Assaroe of oars
Thou wouldst not then, indeed, have been against me,
I say to thee, O Neesha.”
After that
They moved ahead by each well-shortened way,
Till they beheld high-glorious Avvin Maha
Before their eyes. O men (said Lowercam),
Owen the son of Doorha, King of Farney,
Had had long strife with Conor; and the price
Which he now paid for peace with powerful Conor
Was this—to watch upon the Green of Avvin
With hirelings; and to slay the Sons of Usna,
So that they might not reach to Conor himself,
And that Conor might not see them. Only Owen,
Of all the men amidst the men of Ulster,
Would have accepted that.
The Sons of Usna
Had reached the midpart of the green, when Owen,
Searching the green through the dim-thickening dusk,
Found Neesha; and, for welcome back to Avvin,
In a fierce, evil, powerful wolf’s-onset,
Gave him a thrust with his long-shafted spear,
So that he clove his back. Then Illann Finn
The son of Fergus threw his own two arms
Round Neesha; and he put him under him,
And lay on him; and he himself was slain.
And, rapidly thereafter, east and west,
Along the plain beneath the dusk-dark vault,
Ardawn and Annly, and all folk and people
Who had come thither with them out of Alba,
Were slain with wounds, till every sod became
A red death-pillow; and each man had fallen
In his sick pool of slaughter and of dying.
After that wounding, after those murder-strokes,
After that falling, after that slaughter, loudly
The men of Ulster cried three cries of woe
And grief and mourning and loud lamentation.
After that falling, after that slaughter, Cathbad
Came on the green; and he cursed Avvin Maha
In punishment for that great ill. He said:
“In punishment for that great ill, no son
Of Conor’s and no man of Conor’s seed
Shall reign in Avvin, even though Conor himself,
Who, till this deed, hath been a great safe Rudder
To all this Fifth, procuring peace with riches,
May yet reign many years.” So Cathbad spake.
His saying is no hidden saying. Soon
Their graves were dug for those three noble ones;
And their three mounds were heaped on them. And Daerdra,
With her hands tied behind her back, was put
In Conor’s house.
O men (said Lowercam),
Her mournful tragic end I tell not now.
I first must speak of Fergus. On the morrow
He swiftly came towards Avvin; and I went
Swiftly myself (said Lowercam) to meet him.
I told him how those three heroic ones,
The Candles of the Valour of the Gael,
The three fleet-footed, harp-voiced Sons of Usna,
Had been betrayed and slain in Avvin Maha,
Though underneath his honour and protection.
Fergus, at first, could not believe that tale.
To him it seemed impossible that Conor,
The regal one, whom he and all the Ultonians
Held in great reverence and love, should so
Have outraged him,—he, Fergus, being moreover
The greatest of the warriors of all Ulster.
When he believed it, word was sent to Cormac
And Duffa Dael; and from Dunseverick
These came to join with Fergus; and with them
Was Feeaha the son of Conall Carna.
The anger of the men cannot be told.
In fury and huge wrath and vehemence
They moved to do their deeds. They gave red battle
To Conor’s household; and with violence
They ravaged and laid bare and scorched and wounded
From east to west and north to south round Avvin;
And Fergus put a fringe of fire round Avvin
To burn it; and no man amidst the men
Of Ulster dared attack them or oppose them.
Then they collected all their folk and people,
Even to the number of a cantred,—thrice
Ten hundred warriors; and they went from Ulster
In rage and wrath. And yet (said Lowercam),
Though thus they put their own dear land behind them,
They could not put behind them their heart-love
For Ulster; but they loved their own land still.
This was the road they went by,—o’er Slieve Foo-id,
Then o’er wide Meath to westward, till they reached
The beautiful, smooth Hill of Usna. There
They stayed awhile; and they deliberated
As to which Fifth to go to,—whether to go
To Finn the son of Ross the Red of Leinster;
Or to Finn’s brother, Carpry Neea Faer;
Or to the far south-west of mirthful Munster
To Cooroi son of Dawra, who, some said,
Was the best chief in Erin. Then one said:
“The best of Fifths is Connaught; and the best
Of kings is Al-yill; and the best of warriors
Is Maev; and Croohan is the place of counsel
For Erin all; since Maev in sway and power
Is as a sovereign of all Erin. Also
In Croohan there are found the choicest heroes
And battle-champions, and the choicest poets
And choicest men of learning and deep science
And knowledge, in the circle of this world.”
That was the counsel which all deemed the best.
A messenger was straightway sent to Croohan;
And Maev and Al-yill made great joy before him.
He said to Maev: “O Queen, thou wilt indeed
Be sovereign o’er wide Erin, if great Fergus
Shall come to aid thee.” And it was not long
Ere Fergus went himself. And when Maev saw him,
She rose to meet him; and she welcomed him,
And kissed him. And the women and the poets
Kissed him, and welcomed him, and welcomed Cormac
And Duffa Dael and all the chiefs from Ulster.
Then Maev herself addressed great Fergus, saying:
“This gift from me to thee, O upright hero,
O Fergus: I will give perpetual keeping
To all thy cantred,—thrice ten hundred men,—
Together with their women and their poets,
And their young lads, and all their folk and gillies;
And thou thyself shalt have a full equipment
For three score powerful men; and thou shalt have
Red gold, in value worth thrice seven bondmaids,
And wine each night in my own house in Croohan.”
Fergus accepted that. And since that day,
Now seven years past, Maev has bestowed on Fergus,
And on the cantred which he brought from Ulster,
That maintenance and keeping which she promised.
Is it not true, O Maev? (said Lowercam)
“Yea, it is true,” said Maev. Then Lowercam,
After a little waiting, said:
O men,
I now must speak of Daerdra, and must tell you
Of her sad, mournful ending. She remained
A year near Conor; and in all that time
She never laughed her gladly smiling laugh,
Or took her fill of food or of deep sleep;
And she ne’er raised her head from off her knees.
And I (said Lowercam) was with her there,
Tending her in that horror and affliction.
When they would bring to her the men of music
And folk of entertainment, she would answer:
“Though beautiful to you your valiant champions
Stepping to Avvin after expeditions,
More beautifully stepped they toward their house,
The three high-valiant, glorious Sons of Usna.
Neesha with burden of mirth-kindling mead;
I with a bath for him and with warm fire;
Ardawn with a slain ox or a fat hog;
And Annly on his high back carrying faggots.
Though sweet to you the rich mirth-kindling mead
Quaffed by the son of Fahtna of great valour,
I have oft known a chase upon a doe,
The food of which was many times more sweet.
When noble Neesha would prepare for us
A cooking-pit within the wild-floored forest,
Sweeter than honey was each kind of food,
Which there the Sons of Usna would make ready.
Though sweet in every month, indeed, to you
Your fluters and your players on the horn,
This thing is what my conscience knows to-day:—
That I have heard a music which was sweeter.
Though sweet to Conor, the renownéd king,
His fluters and his players on the horn,
Sweeter to me was the cloud-rich cloth-nell
The song the Sons of Usna used to sing.
A voice as of the heavy waves had Neesha;
It was sweet music to be ever hearing.
The Cola of Ardawn, it was good music,
And the andord of Annly towards his booth.
Much would I bear of hardness and of want,
When I was with the three delightful heroes;
I would endure without a house or fire;
And ’tis not I that would be sorrowful.
The three shields of the heroes and their spears
Were many a time my bed. O many a time
Have I been with them in a solitude;
But till their death-day I was ne’er alone.
Neesha—his little grave-hill has been made.
My sight departed out of my two eyes
As I beheld the grave of Neesha. Soon
My soul will leave me. I shall find my end.
Belovéd was his spirit firm and just.
Belovéd was the warrior, high, most noble.
After our wandering through the woods of Fawl,
Belovéd was our hidden, lonely rest.
Belovéd was the blue eye dear to women,
And cause of terror to his enemies.
After their circuit of great woods and forests,
Belovéd their andord through the dark way.
I sleep no more. Alas! I sleep no more,
And I stain not my finger-nails with crimson.
No joy comes now upon my mind and spirit,
Since the three noble Sons of Usna come not.
I sleep no more. Alas! I sleep no more
Through half the night-time in my lying-place;
My senses fly away from me in crowds,
Seeing that I now neither eat nor sleep.
I now, to-day, for joy have no occasion;
Or for the pouring of rich mead or ale,
Or for delight or peace or gentle rest,
Or for a house, or for rich covering.”

And when (said Lowercam) Conor would try
To be consoling her and pleasing her,
’Tis then that she would say to him these words:
“O Conor, what, then, art thou thinking of?
Thou hast heaped up on me sorrow and weeping.
That is what I shall have while I shall live.
Thy love for me will not endure for long.
The thing which was most beautiful to me,
Under the heaven, and which was the dearest,
Thou tookest from me,—great the wrongful deed,—
So that I shall not see it till I die.
These things to me are lasting grief and sorrow:—
The death for me of the three Sons of Usna,
A little dark-black cairn o’er the white body
Which was distinguished above countless men.
Two crimson cheeks and lips comely and red,
And eye-lashes as black as is the dael,
And rows of teeth beneath a pearly lustre,
Like to the very noble tint of snow.
Distinguished was his clean and pure array
Amidst the warriors of the men of Alba.
A comely, crimson, fit, five-folding fooan,
With its rich borderings of pure red gold.
An innar of rich royal sról, a treasure
Around him—with one hundred varied gems
Upon its bright and splendid broidery,
And fifty ounces of pure white findrinny.
A golden-hilted sword in his one hand;
And in his second hand two blue-grey spears;
A shield with a surrounding rim of gold;
And on it a bright central boss of silver.
Fergus, the fair-haired, wronged us and betrayed us,
Bringing us hither o’er the mighty sea.
He sold his hero-honour for an ale-feast.
His great and wondrous deeds, indeed, have fallen.
Though they were all upon the plain before me,
The men of Ulster, and thou, Conor, with them,
I,—and I hide it not,—would give them all,
To see the face of Neesha, son of Usna.
Break not my heart, to-day, beneath thy woe.
Soon I shall come unto my early grave.
Sorrow is more powerful than the sea,—
If thou wouldst know it—it is true—O Conor.”
“What dost thou hate the most of all the things
Which thou dost see here?” Conor said to her.
“Thyself,” she said, “and Owen.”
“Thou shalt bide
A year with Owen,” Conor said to her.
He gave her then to Owen. On the morrow
They journeyed to the Fair of Maha. Daerdra
Was behind Owen in a chariot. “Good,
O Daerdra,” Conor, mocking, said to her;
“It is the eye of a sheep between two rams
That thou now hast between myself and Owen.”
There was a cliff of stone against the way.
She threw her head against the cliff of stone,
So that she made bruised fragments of her head,
And she was dead.
There is no more to tell
(Said Lowercam). O men, after that woe
I myself went from Ulster, and I came
To the Black Exile here in Connaught, namely,
To Cormac and to Duffa and to Fergus;
And here, far distant from my native land,
The mists of sad old age lay hold of me.
Lowercam ended; and in that great house
In Croohan on Moy Wee in Connaught, each
Went to his sleeping-place, and all was still.
But Maev stepped forth out of her royal house,
And went to the great mound; and on the mound
Found Fergus standing; and his face was turned
Toward the north-east, toward Ulster. Then Maev laid
Her queenly arm around his royal neck,
And said: “O Fergus, thou hast, verily,
Great love for Ulster, thine own land; and yet
Thou, who wast once the greatest of all warriors
Throughout the Western World, wast scorned, insulted,
And driven forth out of thy native land,
To have thy dwelling in wild desert forests
With foxes and wild deer; and ’tis with us
That thou didst find a country and a land
And an inheritance; and wondrous kindness
We have bestowed on thee. Yea, even, O Fergus,
Because of thy great manliness and vigour,
I gave thee my own love and bare thee sons,
Keear and Corc and Conmac—(great the deed)—
Three goodly sons from whom, in aftertime,
Distinguished clans and kindreds shall descend.
It is now right that without any urging
From us, thou shouldst with care and diligence
Take thy own share of battle on this hosting
And Táin. It would not seem to me too much
Were Conor slain, that thou thyself, O Fergus,
Shouldst become king o’er all the kings of Ulster.”
These were Maev’s words. When they had thus been spoken,
She went again into her royal house
And to her royal bed and sleeping-place.
And Fergus went to his own house and people.

BOOK III