Classic Poem

The hole-and-cornering gusts rattled from bolt
And bar as Sualtem got up among
His champions, pallid with anger.
" High King,
This nameless stranger hides in the shadows of
Our hall too many lies of his wanderings.
But where now is white Dectora, betrothed,
Made mine in a gift of cantreds with herds of sheep
And bullocks, made in wine of foreign galleys
Grating their keels on our shores, and forest
A hawk's flight from Emain Macha. Have I not filled
With pursuit the northern islands, plunged with hounds
And streams into the glens? The secret boar
Of Mwaolaun knows me. I have followed voices
Out of our human reach, found but the idle
Waters. The mountain-ash is red again,
But Dectora has gone."