CANTO I.

I.

Eastward in Eireann lay the Lough of Rory. The Moon, like some pale huntress, landward led Her white-toothed hounds betwixt the promontory And its far twin. Thither King Fergus sped Within his chariot. High his shaggy head Clove thro’ the dusky clouds his chargers made; And o’er his shoulders, far behind him, spread Loose locks, and circling cloak, in which arrayed He, with benignant arm, Ultonia’s sceptre swayed.

II.

Beside him stood his suremost charioteer, (Muëna, faithful bondsman of his lord, Favoured in form, and swift of eye and ear), Urging with well-skilled hand and timely word The flying steeds. The seaward-soaring bird Seemed fixed in Heaven, so swift they sped: the day Lumbered behind, as high the sand they stirred, And echoes of their wheels that edged the spray Rolled thro’ the silent hills like thunder far away!

III.

Onward they whirled. The billows on the beach Drew backward in amaze, then, bolder grown, Sprang forward to the chase, but far from reach The phantom bounded on o’er sand and stone; Till the low clouds that late-born winds had blown About the hills, upon the chariot’s flight Drew down their brows; or was it they had flown Thro’ dalliant day into a former night That now, with jealous hand, hid shore and sea from sight?

IV.

Then when the day had rallied all its forces,-- A splash of glory in a murky west,-- Obedient, where it pleased (like men), the horses Slackened their speed, and paused, and stood at rest. “Thus far, O King! fulfilled is thy behest,” Muëna said. To whom the King: “To thee And me ’twere Heaven in Night’s soft arms carest To sleep.”--They slept.--Without, that smith, the sea, On adamantine anvils shaped new shores to be.

V.

Who knoweth not the spell that lurks in twilight?-- When mystic murmurs float across the world From strange, vague forms that hate the brazen highlight Of day, and sleep in hidden corners curled Till, westward, day has nigh his banner furled. Then fare they forth: rich spoil, in sooth, they found Where Fergus had his mighty figure hurled Upon the chariot’s floor. They drew around, Plucked from its sheath his sword, and bore him to the ground,

VI.

Thence to the verge of ocean. Fairy elves, A thousand strong, the toilsome task essayed; While twice a thousand, perched on rocky shelves, A wierd accomp’niment of laughter made (Timed to their phantom forms that swung and swayed). So sweet the sound, ’twould seem the winds, at rest For once from warring, ’mong the treetops played: Till, lo, the King, so close they round him prest, Woke, and a struggling trio clasped upon his breast.

VII.

“Life for thy life,” they cried: “have mercy, King!” Swift to his feet he sprang. The fairy throng Vanished like vapour, save where, in the ring Of his tight-clasping arms, as swift along The dim-seen beach he strode the stones among, The wriggling remnant of the elvish crew Craved mercy.--“Mercy doth to thee belong, And ours in turn to render service due.” Clasping them in his arms he toward his chariot drew.

VIII.

There lay Muëna, wrapt in peaceful sleep, Nor woke the King his bondsman; but did say To those he held his captives: “Through the deep, And under, give me knowledge of the way, Unfearful of the power of wave or spray. This shall ye grant and live.” “O King, such boon,” Thus said the elves, “sweeps not beyond our sway; So shall be thine, ere swings another moon, Skill meet to dare the depths of river and lagoon,

IX.

“Save Rory, whence thou camest; that shalt thou Ne’er ruffle with thy foot: within its wide Impassioned breast, from day’s first dawn till now, And still from now till dawn’s last day, has plied, And still shall ply, the spirit of the tide His secret craft. Nor thou nor human kind Shall scan his face and live. All else beside Is thine when Earth ’s again to Day resigned, Whose advent now is blown on trumpets of the wind.”

X.

So when the morn, like Virtue’s cheek red-blushing For night’s black deeds, from couch of cloud arose, Ere yet were heard hoarse caws and dark wings rushing Athwart the sun, when trailing lines of crows Hasten to haunts far off that no man knows, Beside the sea stood King and charioteer To take the waves’ great secret now from those In promise bound, who stand apart, yet near, Where wavelets lift and lay, as if some word to hear.

XI.

Then spake the first of fairies: “O great King, Thy life was ours--we spared it; ours was thine And thou didst spare us, yet encompassing Thy deed with obligation, line on line, And promise holding promise,--me and mine To do, and thou to do not. Now the hour Hath come--as ne’er before--when billow and brine Yield to a mortal every whit of power-- Save one--how suns soe’er may shine or clouds may lower.”

XII.

Low bowed the Monarch his assenting head. The elfin chieftain swiftly drew anear Doffing his hood, long-trailing, ruby red. Lo! on the King ’tis placed. In either ear They plant sweet spices, herbs, anointing clear; And weird enchantments drown the muffled roar Of throbbing ocean. Then the charioteer Beholds his master pass the waters o’er, And stands, a lonely man upon a lonely shore. . . . . . .

XIII.

Day brightened in the East, and o’er the waters The round sun rose and threw across the wave A lambent flame, blood-red, as though from slaughters In Orient lands. The breaking surf did lave Muëna’s feet: he, wrapt in wonderings grave, Looked long and wistful, such as lovers do To greet their love. At length the wondering slave Saw on the deep a form that neared, and grew, And stepped upon the beach--the King returned anew.