Elves and Heroes | Page 4

for battle keen--?So hard, so steadfast, and serene.
Then Ossian, sweet of speech, spake low,?With musing eyes upon the foe,?"Is Conn more noble than The Red,?Whom Goll in battle vanquished?"?"The Red was fiercer," Conan cried--?"Nay, Conn is nobler," Finn replied,?"More comely, stalwart, mightier far--?What sayest thou, Goll, my man of war?"?Then Goll made answer on the steep,?Nor ceased to gaze on Conn full deep--?"His equal never came before?Across the seas to Alban shore,?Nor ever have I peered upon?A nobler, mightier man than Conn"
The ship flew seaward, tacking wide,?Contending with the wind and tide,?And when upon the broad stream's track?It baffled hung, or drifted back,?With grunt and shriek, like battling boars,?The shock and swing of bladed oars?Came sounding o'er the sea
The dusk?Grew round the twilight, like a husk?That holds a kernel choice, and keen,?Cold stars impaled the sky serene,?When Conn's ship through the slackening tide?Drew round the wistful bay and wide,?Behind the headlands high that snout?The seas like giant whales, and spout?The salt foam high and loud
Then sighed?The gasping men who all day plied?Their oars in plunging seas, with hands?Grown stiff, and arms, like twisted bands?Drawn numbly, as they rose outspent,?And staggering from their benches went?The sail napped quarrelling, and drank?The wind in broken gasps, and sank?With sullen pride upon the boards,?And smote the mast and shook the cords
Darkly loomed that alien land,?And darkly lowered the Fian band,?For hovering on the shoreland grey?The ship they followed round the bay?Nor sought the sheltering woods until?The shadows folded o'er the hill?Full heavily, and night fell blind,?And laid its spell upon the wind
The swelling waters sank with sip?And hollow gurgle round the ship,?The long mast rocked against the dim,?Soft heaven above the headland's rim
But while the seamen crouched to sleep,?Conn sat alone in reverie deep,?And saw before him in a maze?The mute procession of his days,?In gloom and glamour wending fast--?His heart a-hungering for the past--?Again he leapt, a tender boy,?To greet his sire with eager joy,?When he came over the wide North Sea,?Enriched with spoils of victory--?Then heavily loomed that fateful morn?When tidings of his fall were borne?From Alban shore ... Again he saw?The youth who went alone with awe?To swear the avenging oath before?The smoking altar red with gore.
Ah! strange to him it seemed to be?That hour was drawing nigh when he?Would vengeance take ... And still more strange,?O sorrow! it would bring no change?Though blood for blood be spilled, and life?For life be taken in fierce strife;?'Twill ne'er recall the life long sped,?Or break the silence of the dead.
But when he heard his mother's wail,?Once more uplifted on the gale,?Moaning The Red who ne'er returned--?His cheeks with sudden passion burned;?And darkly frowned that valiant man,?As through his quivering body ran?The lightnings of impelling ire?And impulses of fierce desire,?That surged, with a consuming hate?Against a world made desolate,?Unceasing and unreconciled,?And ever clamouring ... like wild,?Dark-deeded waves that stun the shore,?And through the anguished twilight roar?The hungry passions of the wide?And gluttonous deep unsatisfied.
II.
The shredding dawn in beauty spread?Its shafts of splendour, golden-red,?High over the eastern heaven, and broke?Through flaking clouds in silvern smoke?That burst aflame, and fold o'er fold,?Let loose their oozing floods of gold,?Splashed over the foamless deep that lay?Tremulous and clear. In fiery play?The rippling beams that swept between?The sea-cleft Sutor crags serene,?Broke quivering where the waters bore?The soft reflection of the shore.
The pipes of morn were sounding shrill?Through budding woods on plain and hill,?And stirred the air with song to wake?The sweet-toned birds within the brake.
The Fians from their sheilings came,?With offerings to the god a-flame,?And round them thrice they sun-wise went;?Then naked-kneed in silence bent?Beside the pillar stones ...
But now?Brave Conn upon the ship's high prow?Hath raised his burnished blade on high,?And calls on Woden and on Tigh?With boldness, to avenge the death?Of his great sire ... In one deep breath?He drains the hero's draught that burns?With valour of the gods; then turns?His long-sought foe to meet ... Great Conn?Sweeps, stooping in a boat, alone.?Shoreward, with rapid blades and bright,?That shower the foam-rain pearly white,?And rip the waters, bending lithe,?In hollowing swirls that hiss and writhe?Like adders, ere they dart away?Bright-spotted with the flakes of spray.
When, furrowing the sand, he drew?His boat the shallowing water through,?A giant he in stature rose?Straight as a mast before his foes,?With head thrown high, and shoulders wide?And level, and set back with pride;?His bared and supple arms were long?As shapely oars: firm as a thong?His right hand grasped his gleaming blade,?Gold-hilted, and of keen bronze made?In leafen shape.
With stately stride?He crossed the level sands and wide,?Then on his shield the challenge gave--?His broad sword thund'ring like a wave--?For single combat.
Red as gold?His locks upon his shoulders rolled;?A brazen helmet on his head?Flashed fire; his cheeks were white and red;?And all the Fians watched with awe?That hero young with knotted jaw,?Whose eyes, set deep,