A certain poet in outlandishes
Gatine lane,
talked1 of ry and its people, sang
to some stringed instrument none there had seen,
A wall behind his back, over his head
A latticed time
As tened there, and his voice sank
Or let its meaning mix into trings.
MAEVE t queen o and fro,
Beten bronze,
In Cruach,
Flickering half showed
ired he rushes,
Or on the walls,
In comfortable sleep; all living slept
But t great queen, w
o fire and fire to door.
though now in her old age, in her young age
Siful in t old way
ts all but gone; for t is gone,
And t of ting-house fears all
But Soft beauty and indolent desire.
She world
ever womans lover her fancy,
And yet -bodied and great-limbed,
Faso be trong children;
And s,
And caughe dried flax,
At need, and made iful and fierce,
Sudden and laughing.
O unquiet ,
her, praising her,
As if tale but your oale
ortting to a measure of s sound?
bid you tell of t great queen
housand years?
its deepest, a wild goose
Cried from ters lodge, and h long clamour
Sheir hooks;
But t on, as though some power
h Druid heaviness;
And wondering whe many-changing Sidhe
imes to counsel her,
Maeve fall, being old,
to t small cer gate.
ter slept, alt upright
itill and stony limbs and open eyes.
Maeve ed, and w ear-piercing noise
Broke from ed lips and broke again,
Sher of his shoulders,
And shook him wide awake, and bid him say
he wandering many-changing ones
roubled all o say
as t, the dogs
More still th,
hough he had dreamed
nothing,
he could remember when he had had fine dreams.
It ime of t war
Over te-he Brown Bull.
Surned ao sleep
t no god troubled now, and, wondering
matters among the Sidhe,
Maeve great h a sigh
Lifted tain of her sleeping-room,
Remembering t soo had seemed divine
to many to her own
One t tions ed
t oo difficult for mortal hands
Migain up
Shere,
And t of days body,
And of t famous Fergus, Nessas husband,
he lover of her middle life.
Suddenly Ailell spoke out of his sleep,
And not h his own voice or a mans voice,
But he burning, live, unshaken voice
Of t, it may be, can never age.
;high Queen of Cruachan and Magh Ai,
A king of t Plain h you.
And ; king
Of to me,
As in they would come and go
About my to counsel and to help?
ted lips replied, quot;I seek your help,
For I am Aengus, and I am crossed in love.
quot;al
h hand clasping hand,
ty images t cannot her,
For all tys like a hollow dream,
Mirrored in streams t neither hail nor rain
Nor troubled?
he replied,
quot;I am from those rivers and I bid you call
t of sleep,
And set them digging under Buals hill.
e s hy housc,
ill overthrow his shadows and carry off
Caer, er t I love.
I these walls,
And I would need,
Queen of high Cruachan.
quot;I obey your will
it and a most t:
For you he birds,
Our giver of good counsel and good luck.
And al breath
Could but awaken sadly upon lips
t urned
Face doossing in a troubled sleep;
But Maeve, and not ,
Came to ted house
, and cried aloud,
Until to stir
iting and the clang of unhooked arms.
Sold the many-changing ones;
And all t nig day
to middle nigo the hill.
At middle nig cats h silver claws,
Bodies of shadow and blind eyes like pearls,
Came up out of the hole, and red-eared hounds
ite bodies came out of the air
Suddenly, and ran at them.
t; cood
its and terror-stricken faces,
till Maeve called out, quot;t common men.
t dropped their spades
Because Earts broken power,
Casts up a S
it was glad,
And whe grass
S footfall in t,
till it died out ood.
Friend of too ood
it w;
For you, alt ,
greatness, and not hers alone,
For tory about queens
In any ancient book but tells of you;
And whey grew old and died,
Or fell into unhappiness, Ive said,
quot;S!
And out anehe words,
, Soo !
Outrun the measure.
Id tell of t great queen
ood amid a silence by thorn
Until t of the air
it of soft fire. the one,
About wheir fiery wings,
Said, quot;Aengus and give thanks
to Maeve and to Maeves household, owing all
In o gives peace.
t;O Aengus, Master of all lovers,
A thousand years ago you held high ralk
it kings of many-pillared Cruachan.
O when will you grow weary?
they had vanished,
But our of there came
A murmur of soft ing lips.