Poems by Denis Florence MacCarthy (websites to read books for free .TXT) 📖

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 title 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 thorny 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 passing 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 apron guard It passed, 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:

FERDIAH.

O Hound, so famed for deeds of valour doing,
'Twas not thy place my death to give to me; Thine is the fault of my most certain ruin,
And yet 'tis best to have my blood on thee.

The wretch escapes not from his false position,
Who to the gap of his destruction goes; Alas! my death-sick voice needs no physician,
My end hath come-my life's stream seaward flows.

The natural ramparts of my breast are broken,
In its own gore my struggling heart is drowned:- Alas! I have not fought as I have spoken,
For thou hast killed me in the fight, O Hound!

Cuchullin towards him ran, and his two arms Clasping about him, lifted him and bore The body in its armour and its clothes Across the Ford unto the northern bank, In order that the slain should thus be placed Upon the north bank of the Ford, and not Among the men of Erin, on the west. Cuchullin laid Ferdiah down, and then A sudden trance, a faintness on him came When bending o'er the body of his friend. Laegh saw the weakness, which was seen as well By all the men of Erin, who arose Upon the moment to attack him there. "Good, O Cuchullin," Laegh exclaimed, "arise, For all the men of Erin hither come. It is no single combat they will give, Since fair Ferdiah, Daman's son, the son Of Dare, by thy hands has here been slain." "O servant, what availeth me to rise," Cuchullin said, "since he hath fallen by me?" And so the servant said, and so replied Cuchullin, in his turn, unto the end;

LAEGH.

Arise, Emania's slaughter-hound, arise,
Exultant pride should be thy mood this day:- Ferdiah of the hosts before thee lies-
Hard was the fight and dreadful was the fray.

CUCHULLIN.

Ah, what availeth me a hero's pride?
Madness and grief are in my heart and brain, For the dear blood with which my hand is dyed-
For the dear body that I here have slain.

LAEGH.

It suits thee ill to shed these idle tears,
Fitter by far for thee a fiercer mood- At thee he flung the flying pointed spears,
Malicious, wounding, dripping, dyed with blood.

CUCHULLIN.

Even though he left me crippled, maimed, and lame,
Even though I lost this arm that now but bleeds, All would I bear, but now the fields of fame
No more shall see Ferdiah mount his steeds.

LAEGH.

More pleasing is the victory thou hast gained,
More pleasing to the women of Creeve Rue, He to have died and thou to have remained,
To them the brave who fell here are too few.

From that black day in brilliant Mave's long reign
Thou camest out of Cuailgne it has been- Her people slaughtered and her champions slain-
A time of desolation to the queen.

When thy great plundered flock was borne away,
Thou didst not lie with slumber-seal`ed eyes,- Then 'twas thy boast to rise before the day:-
Arise again, Emania's Hound, arise!

So Laegh addressed the hero, though he seemed To hear him not, but mourned his friend the more. And thus he spoke these words, and thus he moaned:

"Alas! Ferdiah, an unhappy chance It was for thee that thou didst not consult Some of the heroes who my prowess knew, Before thou camest forth to meet me here, In the hard battle combat by the Ford. Unhappy was it that it was not Laegh, The son of Riangabra, thou didst ask About our fellow-pupilship-a bond That might the unnatural combat so have stayed; Unhappy was it that thou didst not ask Honest advice from Fergus, son of Roy; Or that it was not battle-winning, proud, Exulting, ruddy Connall thou didst ask About our fellow-pupilship of old. For well do these men know there will not be A being born among the Conacians who Shall do the deeds of valour thou hast done From this day forth until the end of time. For if thou hadst consulted these brave men About the places where the assemblies meet, About the plightings and the broken vows Uttered too oft by Connaught's fair-haired dames; If thou hadst asked about the games and sports Played with the targe and shield, the sword and spear, If of backgammon or the moves of chess, Or races with the chariots and the steeds, They never would have found a champion's arm As strong to pierce a hero's flesh as thine, O rose-cloud hued Ferdiah!