Classic Poem

In the large house of Dara by the fire
The ruddy ale went round.
" A health, a health"
MacRoth replied:
" The loaning of the Bull.
That is a goodly bargain now, to drive him
Into the west, his praise to cross the fords,
He shall bring wealth and break the hurdles down
Between our lands and in a grassing year
For every calf dropped, you shall have the owning
Of a fine heifer, fatten as a chieftain
Beyond your neighbours when our mixing herds
Breed peace."
MacDara drained the handed mug
And laughed so loud the flockbed under him
Shook:
" That was a foolish talk of theirs
Upon the pillow for a happy ending.
I'd have no womenfolk to fill the house
With noise and smoke."
He roared until the tick
Broke under him and dregged another cup
Walking the rushes:
" Aye, mighty is this Bull,
This Bull, and he has farmed the mountain-lands
With savage herds, dewlapped, fierce-sinewed, herded
In thunder, and I tell you now that he
Will stand for fifty cows within a morning
And rage for more. Only one herdsman can
Halter him. Boys could play hurley on his back,
They could."
The neighbours had come in.
He drank
The more.
" Aye, mighty is this Bull of mine,
Where is his fellow? There is not a bull,
Not one bred to withstand him. He will fling
Your bullock on a horn. His roar is louder
Than the lifting wave of Roary when the foam
Is throning. I stand at the door and men
Strike in. The board is plentiful. I make
His praise. They sit down by the fire and tell
Of wonders.
No, I will not lend the Bull.
There is none other. Let this woman turn
A wishing stone though she is queen. I'd have
No women in the herding.
Mighty is
This Bull."
" Remember, Dara, the great wealth
That you will have by road. You will become
A chieftain. Golden blinkers on the mules
That we shall send."
" Neighbours, what will they say
In Ulster? He that bows to the west, may crop
The roadside grass!"
" But, man, they have a power
Of wealth."
" Come west, MacDara. You shall have,
Bringing the Bull as broad lands he can roam
Within a day, a big car worth a score
Of women, brown land, early land and mowing
To spare, come west, MacDara, west."
He spat
Awhile.
" But tell me of the grass
There,"
" Sweet it is and hardy to the mouth
Now."
" Take a quart of ale, young man
And let me think. The bull is great, the prize
Greater. Why are those fellows making such
A noise?
" Hush there"
Far down the hall
The Connaught herdsmen squabbled with the men
Of Ulster nor took heed while fleecy ale
Flocked through the gap:
" There is no grass
In the west."
" Our cattle are the hardier
In the hoof."
" Boys, they have drained the jug,"
" We have walked far."
" This is our roof."
" We have walked far."
" We are the better men."
" Black cattle of the west."
" You lie."
" Black cattle
Of the west, to sell."
" This is no fair
To clap the bargain on a heifer's back."
" Black cattle of the west."
" We are no dealers."
" We make no bid."
" We'll take the bloody bull"
" They cannot take the bullock."
While they fought
Or wrestled, black-eyed Caoilte spilled the cups
And played —
" There are no men
Can tether the fillies of Maeve
For they have eaten such green oats
They have grown heady
Galloping on great wings
About the glen.
Angrily MacRoth
Pulled out his sword and drove the harp and men
Beyond the door.
" Out, bad player, out
And if there is a river swim and peck
Your brood of gabbling wings."
MacDara
Rushed from the farmers.
" By god, now, you have driven
My men out of my house but it was yours
That horned the knives. I see all clearly now
And you will never have this Bull of mine
On hire to fill your cows. Now take your money
Out of my lands for by the kindly laws
Of hospitality it is your own
To carry to that meddlesome red woman
In the west."
" Good Dara, I but drove
The cups out of your house. Let us sit down
Again, put moves upon the board or count
This wealth."
" Go to your ruly queen now."
" Dara
Count up that store of labourable gold,
The lowing herds."
Outside rough voices cursed
And fought but from the mountain acres rose
A bellowing that shook the rafters.
Dara
Bull-headed, blood-eyed, hurled the burly farmers
Back, scattering them as dice and shouted:
" The Bull
The Bull,
" They wull na' take the Bull."
The men
Rushed in again. The house was filled with noise
Of breaking stools and heads.
" Be quiet now"
Cried Roth
" Is this a country dance where boys
Take drink and fight for the women?"

MacDara
Heading the farmers, turned:
" Now drive these herds
Back to their grey crops.
The Connaught man
Replied —
" The new green withe is peeled
For breaking. Dara, you have scorned the will
That holds wide Connaught and the windy flock
Of island but the armies of Red Maeve
Shall bare these plains with hooks of fire and take
The Bull." —
And turning at the crowded door
Of parting flung his sword upon the floor.