THE CHILDREN OF LIR
Babbles Conn the youngest, "Sister, I remember
At my father's palace how I went in silk,
Ate the juicy deer-flesh roasted from the ember,
Drank from golden goblets my child's draught of milk.
Once I rode a-hunting, laughed to see the hurly,
Shouted at the ball-play, on the lake did row;
You had for your beauty gauds that shone so rarely."
"Peace," saith Fionnuala, "that was long ago."
At my father's palace how I went in silk,
Ate the juicy deer-flesh roasted from the ember,
Drank from golden goblets my child's draught of milk.
Once I rode a-hunting, laughed to see the hurly,
Shouted at the ball-play, on the lake did row;
You had for your beauty gauds that shone so rarely."
"Peace," saith Fionnuala, "that was long ago."
"Sister," saith Fiachra, "well do I remember
How the flaming torches lit the banquet-hall,
And the fire leapt skyward in the mid-December,
And among the rushes slept our staghounds tall.
By our father's right hand you sat shyly gazing,
Smiling half and sighing, with your eyes a-glow.
As the bards sang loudly all your beauty praising."
"Peace," saith Fionnuala, "that was long ago."
How the flaming torches lit the banquet-hall,
And the fire leapt skyward in the mid-December,
And among the rushes slept our staghounds tall.
By our father's right hand you sat shyly gazing,
Smiling half and sighing, with your eyes a-glow.
As the bards sang loudly all your beauty praising."
"Peace," saith Fionnuala, "that was long ago."
"Sister," then saith Hugh, "most do I remember
One I called my brother, one, earth's goodliest man,
Strong as forest oaks are where the wild vines clamber,
First at feast or hunting, in the battle's van.
Angus, you were handsome, wise and true, and tender,
Loved by every comrade, feared by every foe:
Low, low, lies your beauty, all forgot your splendour."
"Peace," saith Fionnuala, "that was long ago."
One I called my brother, one, earth's goodliest man,
Strong as forest oaks are where the wild vines clamber,
First at feast or hunting, in the battle's van.
Angus, you were handsome, wise and true, and tender,
Loved by every comrade, feared by every foe:
Low, low, lies your beauty, all forgot your splendour."
"Peace," saith Fionnuala, "that was long ago."
Dews are in the clear air, and the roselight paling,
Over sands and sedges shines the evening star,
And the moon's disc lonely high in heaven is sailing.
Silvered all the spear-heads of the rushes are,—
Over sands and sedges shines the evening star,
And the moon's disc lonely high in heaven is sailing.
Silvered all the spear-heads of the rushes are,—
97
