Classic Poem

Congal Claen, an Ulster Prince, feeling himself slighted at the royal feast, makes war upon the King of Ireland, Donald, whose foster-son he is, and whose daughter, Lafinda, has been affianced to him. The armies engage at Math Rath: Congal is defeated and slain. The battle took place A.D. 637.

Around the Mound of Sighs
They filled the woody-sided vale;
but no sweet sleep their eyes
Refreshed that night: for all the night,
around their echoing camp,
Was heard continuous from the hills,
a sound as of the tramp
Of giant footsteps; but so thick,
the white mist lay around
None saw the Walker save the King.
He, starting at the sound,
Called to his foot his fierce red hound;
athwart his shoulders cast
A shaggy mantle, grasped his spear,
and through the moonlight passed
Alone up dark Ben-Boli's heights,
toward which, above the woods,
With sound as when at close of eve
the noise of falling floods
Is borne to shepherd's ear remote,
on stilly upland lawn,
The steps along the mountain side
with hollow fall came on.
Fast beat the hero's heart; and close
down-crouching by his knee
Trembled the hound, while through the haze,
huge as through mists at sea,
The week-long-sleepless mariner
descries some mountain-cape,
Wreck-infamous, rise on his lee,
appeared a monstrous Shape
Striding impatient, like a man
much grieved, who walks alone
Considering of a cruel wrong:
down from his shoulders thrown
A mantle, skirted stiff with soil
splashed from the miry ground,
At every stride against his calves
struck with as loud rebound
As makes the mainsail of a ship
brought up along the blast,
When with the coil of all its ropes
it beats the sounding mast.
So striding vast, the giant pass'd;
the King held fast his breath;
Motionless, save his throbbing heart;
and chill and still as death
Stood listening while, a second time,
the giant took the round
Of all the camp: but when at length,
for the third time, the sound
Came up, and through the parting haze
a third time huge and dim
Rose out the Shape, the valiant hound
sprang forth and challenged him.
And forth, disdaining that a dog
should put him so to shame,
Sprang Congal, and essayed to speak.
" Dread Shadow, stand. Proclaim
What wouldst thou, that thus all night
around my camp shouldst keep
Thy troublous vigil; banishing
the wholesome gift of sleep
From all our eyes, who, though inured
to dreadful sounds and sights
By land and sea, have never yet
in all our perilous nights
Lain in the ward of such a guard. "
The Shape made answer none;
But with stern wafture of his hand,
went angrier striding on,
Shaking the earth with heavier steps.
Then Congal on his track
Sprang fearless " Answer me, thou Churl, "
he cried. " I bid thee back! "
But while he spoke, the giant's cloak
around his shoulders grew
Like to a black bulged thunder-cloud;
and sudden out there flew
From all its angry swelling folds,
with uproar unconfined,
Direct against the King's pursuit,
a mighty blast of wind:
Loud flapped the mantle tempest-lined,
while fluttering down the gale,
As leaves in Autumn, man and hound
were swept into the vale,
And heard, o'er all the huge uproar,
through startled Dalaray
The giant went, with stamp and clash,
departing south away.
The King sought Ardan in his tent;
and to the wakeful Bard
Panting and pale, disclosed at length
what he had seen and heard;
Considering which a little time,
the Master sighed and spoke.
" King, thou describest by his bulk
and by his clapping cloak
A mighty demon of old time,
who with much dread and fear
Once filled the race of Partholan;
Manannan Mor Mac Lir. "
" But he who speaks him, " Congal said,
" and gains no answer — he? "
" Within the year, the Seers agree, "
said Ardan, " he must die;
For death and silence, we may see,
bear constant company. "
" Be it so, Bard, " replied the King.
" To die is soon or late
For every being born alive
the equal doom of Fate.
Nor grieve I much; nor would I grieve
if Heaven had been so pleased
That either I had not been born,
or had already ceased,
Being born, to breathe; but while I breathe
so let my life be spent
As in renown of noble deeds
to find a monument "
By this the moonlight paled in dawn;
and onward to Rathmore
Of green Moy-Linney marched the hosts,
and round King Congal's door
Pitched camp again; where copious feasts,
by Kellach's care prepared,
Refreshed them, and the gift of sleep
their weary eye-lids shared.
And now, at dawn, to cross the fords,
hard-by the royal town,
The fresh, well-ordered, vigorous bands
in gallant ranks drew down:
When, lo, a Spectre horrible,
of more than human size,
Full in the middle of the ford,
took all their wondering eyes.
A ghastly woman it appeared,
with grey dishevelled hair
Blood-draggled, and with sharp-boned arms,
and fingers crook'd and spare
Dabbling and washing in the ford,
where mid-leg deep she stood
Beside a heap of heads and limbs,
that swam in oozing blood,
Whereon and on a glittering heap
of raiment rich and brave
With swift, pernicious hands she scooped
and pour'd the crimson'd wave.
And though the stream approaching her
ran tranquil, clear and bright,
Sand-gleaming between verdant banks,
a fair and peaceful sight,
Downward the blood-polluted flood
rode turbid, strong and proud,
With heady-eddying dangerous whirls
and surges dashing loud.
Then Congal from the foremost rank
a spear-cast forward strode,
And said, " Who art thou, hideous one;
and from what curst abode
Comest thou thus in open day
the hearts of men to freeze;
And whose lopp'd heads and severed limbs
and bloody vests are these? "
" I am the Washer of the Ford, "
she answered; " and my race
Is of the Tuath de Danaan line
of Magi; and my place
For toil is in the running streams
of Erin; and my cave
For sleep is in the middle of
the shell-heaped Cairn of Maev,
High up on haunted Knocknarea;
and this fine carnage-heap
Before me, and these silken vests
and mantles which I steep
Thus in the running water, are
the severed heads and hands
And spear-torn scarfs and tunics of
these gay-dressed, gallant bands
Whom thou, oh Congal, leadest to death
And this, " the Fury said,
Uplifting by the clotted locks
what seemed a dead man's head,
" Is thine own head, oh Congal. "
Therewith she rose in air,
And vanished from the warrior's view,
leaving the river bare
Of all but running water.
But Congal drew his sword
And with a loud defying shout,
plunged madly in the ford,
Probing the empty pools; then stood,
and from the middle flood
Exclaimed: " Here stand I, and here swear
that till the tide of blood
Thus leaves my knees, I will not turn
for threat of Devil or Ghost,
Fairy or lying Spirit accurst,
while one of all this host
Follows my leading. " All their hearts
grew great with manly shame;
And as a flood flows through a flood,
up through the fords they came,
Raising Ollarva: all their shields
and shining belts were wet
With clear, cold, fishy-streaming floods
against the strong bar set
Of limbs heroic and deep chests.
But when the fords were pass'd
And the long columns drew their strength
forth on the campaign vast,
Fear fell again on Congal's host,
and much oppressed with awe,
They pondered what they late had heard,
and what, but now, they saw.
Southward in gloomy-gliding ranks,
hushed all in dumb dismay,
The hosts across the upland bare,
and through the morning grey,
As drifting cloud at close of day
that tracks the heaven serene,
Held on their dark unechoing march
athwart the Fassagh green,
Till on a car afar were seen,
by two swift coursers drawn,
Herself, Lafinda, and her Nurse,
advancing through the dawn,
Swift they approached: the ruddy blaze
of sunrise round them spread
Seemed with a diadem of rays
to crown each radiant head
" Congal, " the royal maiden said,
" be not incensed, I pray,
That thus in presence of the hosts
I cross thy war-like way;
For need admitting no delay
impels me; and the ire
Of one I dare not disobey
constrains the message dire.
Last night, at midnight, by my bed
an awful form there stood,
Who by her vermeil-lettered book,
and by her purple hood,
And hoary, glory-beaming locks,
that shone like sunlit snow,
For Blessed Brigid of Kildare
I could not choose but know;
And said, " Awake: arise: go forth:
thy nurse, Lavarcam, waits
With car and ready-harnessed steeds
without the fortress gates:
Mount by her side, and northward forth
ride fearless till the dawn
Show thee an army on its march
across the upland lawn;
Then to the King who leads that host
say thus, Oh mighty King,
From Duftach's daughter of Kildare
I thee this message bring:
Turn back or perish: thou and all
thy Hosting; for the path
From hence to Moyra on both sides
is hedged about with wrath,
And paved for foot of every man
who in thy conduct treads
With slippery, horror-staring floor
of slaughtered heroes' heads."
So spoke she; I by strong constraint
drawn to the gates, obeyed;
And here, through shadows of the night,
as in a dream conveyed,
Now find myself, but in no dream;
and, horror-filled, I see
These mighty-marching, death-devoted
heroes led by thee,
O Congal. " Congal, answering, said:
" Dear maid, thou art deceived:
These visions of the feverish night
are not to be believed.
But come; such poor refreshment now
as warriors' tents afford,
Take; and when seasonable rest
thy strength shall have restored,
A noble escort shall attend
thy home-returning car,
Such as befits thy father's child:
and when this short-lived war
Is ended — for this host shall soon
abate the tyrant's pride —
With Erin for thine escort, thou,
a crowned and royal bride,
I, crowned and happy, by thy side,
kings by our bridle-rein,
Shall up to fair Rath-Keltar ride,
never to part again. "
" Congal, " the Princess pale replied,
" no bridal pomp for me
Is destined, if thou harkenest not
to Brigid's embassy;
Save haply such a bridal pomp
as, entering Brigid's cell,
A handmaiden of Christ may hope. "
Said he. " The powers of hell
Have sought to turn me, and have failed;
and though in thee I find
My only heaven, yet neither thou
shall bend my steadfast mind. "
" Damsel, " said Kellach from his chair,
" these dreams that haunt the bed
Of timorous virgins vanish all
when once the maids are wed.
And royally thou shalt be wed,
and gallantly be brought
Home to a dream-defying bed
when once this breach is fought. "
" Ah, aged Scorner, " cried the Nurse,
who by the Princess stood,
" Thou never wanted'st ribald taunt
for aught was pure or good
Beware, lest on both soul and limb
God's angry judgments fall,
For to thy crooked counsellings
we owe these mischiefs all. "
Said Kellach: " If a withered Hag,
with prophecies of death,
Had power to turn sword-girded men
back upon Honour's path,
Thou hadst no need to waste thy breath
on us who, even now
Are here despite the menaces
of an uglier witch than thou. "
" Wretch, " cried the dame, " abide thy fate " ;
and car and coursers wheeled,
Her aspect changing awfully;
and, as she swept the field,
Brigid, they thought, stood plain revealed:
and steeds and car became
Bright in her presence as in glow
of forge-excited flame,
But with a greyhound's bound, the King
leaped to the reins, and cried,
" Daughter of Duftach, stay thy steeds:
turn back: restore my bride! "
But Brigid lashed the spurning steeds:
they by the sharp whip stung,
Off, with a foam-dispersing snort,
the baffled hero flung:
But back again fierce Congal sprung,
with lion's leap and roar
Terrific, shouting as he ran,
" Thou robber Saint, restore
My bride! " And at the wide-maned steeds,
where side by side they flew
With earth-and-heaven-defying hand,
his mortal javelin threw.
But Brigid motioned with her hand,
and from the chariot seat,
Glancing oblique, the spear returned
innocuous to his feet.
The eyes of all the astonished host
Garr-Congail's flight pursued;
And, when they looked again, the car
was lost within the wood.