CANTO IV 42

THE LEGEND OF SAINT MAHEE OF ENDRIM 49

A SONG OF DECADENCE 65

THE RAILWAY ARCH 67

SCHAKHE 70

IN THE GIANT’S RING, BELFAST 74

THE BLIND FATHER 78

THE SOUTHERN CROSS 85

ON THE DEATH OF WILLIAM MORRIS 87

COPERNICUS 89

TO ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE 90

HEAVEN AND EARTH 91

ON SOME TWENTIETH CENTURY FORECASTS 92

IRELAND 93

_EDITOR’S NOTE._

Wordsworth, writing a sonnet, having for its subject the sonnet-form, said:--

“To me, In sundry moods, ’twas pastime to be bound Within the sonnet’s scanty plot of ground;”

and all those who have essayed the task of composing in this particular form will admit that Wordsworth’s definition--“scanty plot of ground”--characterises the sonnet’s limitations precisely.

As will be observed in the following pages, Mr. Cousins not only excels as a sonneteer; but in “The Legend of the Blemished King” he performs the remarkable feat of producing a poem of classical character, containing forty-eight stanzas, cast perfectly in the no less difficult mould known as the Spenserian stanza--eight heroic lines, followed by an Alexandrine, rhyming thus:--1, 3; 2, 4, 5, 7; 6, 8, 9.

The subject, however more than the technique, is remarkable. It will have an especial attraction for all who are interested in the ancient literature of Ireland; and, indeed it should be of universal interest, because of the fact that this story of Fergus bears a strong resemblance to the Scriptural narrative of Eden and the Fall of Man. It is a kind of allegory common to all ancient races, containing in its heart an unobtruded moral, wrapped in dramatic incident and decorated with charming pictures of land and sea.

It is, in short, what Fiona M’Leod would call a “legendary morality.”

The other poems are equally admirable; and, indeed, however considered, I think that this book should prove a valuable addition to the best literary products of Ireland.

RIGHT M. J. K.

DEIRDRE.

Illan, what King was he dwelt here of yore?

ILLAN.

Fergus, the son of Leide Lithe-o’-limb, Ere yet he reigned at Eman, did dwell here.

DEIRDRE.

What, Fergus Wry-mouth? I have heard of him, And how he came by his ill-favoured name. Methinks I see him when he rose again From combat with the monster, and his face, That had that blemish till love wiped it off, Serene and ample-featured like a King.

ILLAN.

Not love but anger, made him fight the beast.

DEIRDRE.

No, no, I will not have it anger. Love Prompts every deed heroic. ’Tis the fault Of him who did compose the tale at first, Not to have shown ’twas love unblemished him. . . . . . .

FERGUS.

All Erin, shore to shore, shall ring with it And poets in the ages yet to come Make tales of wonder of it for the world.

“DEIRDRE.”--FERGUSON

The Legend of the Blemished King.

Prologue: At Scrabo, Co. Down.

_The rugged rock against the sky Heaves high a tower-topped crest, Whence widens out beneath the eye The realms of East and West. Here lies a land but seldom sung,-- This crude, majestic crown, And that white sea that moves among The fertile fields of Down!_

_Unsung!--save when an alien lyre A moment’s space was strung, And Browning fanned a little fire, And Helen’s Tower was sung. Yet storied homes of sept and clan Are here, and,--dim and vague,-- Anear and far, Ben Madighan, And Keats-sung Ailsa Craig!_

_Unsung!--and wherefore? lovely land! Hast thou not ample store For song, from yonder ocean strand, To Strangford’s shining shore? Hast thou not throbbed to foamy flanks, And sound of Saxon steel, To crash of Cromwell’s rattling ranks, And Clansmen of O’Neill?_

_And yet, not all thy songful crown Is strife of right with wrong; Here, limpid lark-streams trickle down A hundred peaks of song; There, silent sheep and lambkins lie-- A white, uncertain thing-- Like lingering snow that fain would spy The secret of the spring._

_The roaming robber breezes catch, And hither upward float, A lusty lilt and vagrant snatch From some far rustic throat; And blustering bye, with strident shout, From scenes of festive glee, That libertine of flower and sprout, The bacchanalian bee._

_All life is song:--and song is life To souls with these akin, Unfettered by yon city’s strife, Unsullied by its sin! Some part of these fair fields and coast, Some waft of phantom wings, Will haunt my heart, a welcome ghost, A hint of higher things._

_Dear land of love and happy lot Of merry maids and swains, Worthy the martial muse of Scott, Or Virgil’s pastoral strains; Loved land, this tongue thy song would share This votive soul is thine: Thy lips are loud with praise and prayer,-- Pray God they kindle mine!_

The Legend of the Blemished King.

[NOTE:--I am indebted to “The Ecclesiastical History of Down and Connor,” by Rev. James O’Laverty, for the story of the “Blemished King.” Believing it to be comparatively unknown, and desiring, as far as lay in my power, to spread a knowledge of the interesting stories and legends which abound in Irish History and Literature, I translated it into verse. I learn, however, that a poem on the same subject has been written by the late Sir Samuel Ferguson, under the title of “Fergus Wry-mouth.” I can only plead justification for running the inevitable gauntlet of comparison between a giant and a pigmy, on the ground that I had already committed myself to the publication of the present version of the legend before I became aware of the fact mentioned. I have not read the poem by Sir Samuel Ferguson, and I shall not do so until after this volume is in print; but I have written Lady Ferguson on the matter, and she very kindly refuses to see any possible objection to the publication of my rendering of the story, seeing that it contains almost as many stanzas as there are lines in Sir Samuel’s.

The Loch of Rory ([Illustration: Gaelic]), the centre around which the following story moves, is Dundrum Bay. That bay is still remarkable for its roar, which has been frequently referred to by ancient writers. Even a modern poet (S. K. Cowan, in “Sung by Six”) has written of the bay, “where deep seas moan.” Other evidences point to the identity of Rory and Dundrum, in opposition to the conjectures of some that the present Belfast Lough was the scene of the incidents contained in the “Legend of the Blemished King.”--THE AUTHOR.]