Deirdre Of The Sorrows Lyrics
When Fedlime worth a noble peerAttended in his vaulted hallA banquet twixt the golden wallsAnd known the gleesome son of DallDanced the guests and bade the ball,As harp he touched this sumptuous night,Till from the lap his daughter cried. In a richly attired chair sat the crowned guest of honour, Conor Mac Nessa. Among-st his retinue wasthe grey Cathbad, a druid very much skilled in the lore of divination, whom he sent for and badeforetell the infant's prospects. The welkin was cloudless and strewn with twinkling cressets. TheDruid's lips began to tighten in his lenten face, as upon the glaring stars he gazed intently. O howunduly did the minstrel rejoice at a prosperous future; yet all hope was bound to relapse, when the seerheaved one deep sigh, and at length foretold the woe to come:"As the moon gleams on the wave,So shall be her sheen,Bright and distant alike.She shall wed a king, yet in her nameShall bale come 'pon Ulster,Ere Connacht shall make their strike." The outcome compelled the fuddled guests to suffocate the infant until the king restrained them fromtheir attempts:"Halt! By my troth, that doom I shall avert. I decree that she will live her infancy hidden fromthe sight of man and grow into my very consort, lest she be touched by the foul, covetous handsof some foreign king."And so winters passed e'er in solitude;Save syrens' descants the grove seemed mute,In the heart of which she dwelt unseen,As was, I trow, her wintry sheen. In her eyes a sombrous gloomDid gleam that wintry day,When bare trees in silver wroughtWere but a shroud of grey.A final glimpse she had besoughtAnd ventured o'er the rampartAnd came to see a raven reap his prey.While deep crimson stains and imbuesThe unbroken drape of unspurred white,Which the dark of eb'ny wings grimly contrasts with,Her heart was throbbing high at the sight. The image had stirred long. One day, after their fruitless hunt through the forest, Naisi and hisbrethren, the sons of Usnach, left the forest's lap and strolled alongside the glade. Out from the tower'swindow that made her visor, her voice beckoned thrice and so having answered to her yearning calland yearned themselves, they released her to steal into the night together. Naisi at the voyage:"Fare thee well Ulster, that I may see you once more. Already the tang of the sea I canrespire; we set sail to Caledon! Our 'scape has startled the king and thwarted his plans,thence-- the vasts of the sea we cross -as in full career our ship reeves the wintry waters,driven by pursuit. Naught can be seen beyond the sheets of rain. O, have the afreetsforgathered at our course or has some foul curse been lain upon us?...Now our ship comes nighsuccumbing to the vagaries of the gales, when fuscous forms of searing cliffs loom from thehovering mists. Will the shores bid us welcome, in either soft or rugged embrace? Landfall atlast!...A-nd so to Glen Etive we make our repair..." In Glen Etive a living was built devoid of the king's wrath, save of his eyes. No voice whatsoever wasraised from Ulster that reached their ears, until the paces of a rufous steed had swept their ways to thesecret lodge: on the steed sat Fergus, who had, in good faith himself, appeared on the stage again.A pledge of peace he pleads that very morn-In spite of all the qualms she utters so in vain.This fatal rede had dreams put to scorn,As the days of the Branch could live again. Lo, nectar drops hover o'erheadAnd on auburn wings glide yonder,But don't these drops glow damask-redIn the sun on their path hitherLike grumes of blood?How calm the sea was in that line,So calm, o'er waves they skim,Lightly 'pon light feathers swimWith sorrow's swan in frothing brine. "...Ulster's cliffs were frowning ahead already. Indeed, days of war were back again and itwould not last long, ere din smote their ears..."Was it but geiss that bade him stayWith Baruch and not the twain conveySafely to where the arms weren't thereOpen to welcome, but forgèd to tear? Or was it the nerves war has withinThough tailward turns war for those (that are) to winOr ambitions tangled, like when one is rakedWithin the garment the threads all break? And so bale did brew,As was thus foretoldBy what the fixed stars for the Druid drew,What's fixed to unfold. The king did not welcome, yet sent a spy,Whom they behind the window did descryAnd, when dismantled, with the chess-king smite;Struck blind -if he wasn't before- of sight. Caught in the summoned slough of slime-Like as before-, the gallant trineWere shorn off their heads in the burden of time.Deep crimson stained the unbroken drape of whiteAnd into the sea,Where she e'er was, will e'er be,Deirdre did mergeWith the glee of her dirgeOf deed and dream asunder. The Two TreesPerchance did blight after loss of lifeGive rise to a yew 'pon either shrineTheir tops to join and to entwineSo as to bear the fruits of strife.
Ordo Draconis Deirdre Of The Sorrows
