A MAN came slowly from the setting sun,
To Forgail's daughter, Emer, in her dun,
And found her dyeing cloth with subtle care,
And said, casting aside his draggled hair:
'I am Aleel, the swineherd, whom you bid 5
Go dwell upon the sea cliffs, vapour hid;
But now my years of watching are no more.'

Then Emer cast the web upon the floor,
And stretching out her arms, red with the
dye,

Parted her lips with a loud sudden cry. 10 Looking on her, Aleel, the swineherd, said: 'Not any god alive, nor mortal dead,

Has slain so mighty armies, so great kings, Nor won the gold that now Cuchulain brings.'

'Why do you tremble thus from feet to crown?'

15

'My father dwells among the sea-worn bands,

And breaks the ridge of battle with his hands.'

'Nay, you are taller than Cuchulain, son.'

'He is the mightiest man in ship or dun.' 'Nay, he is old and sad with many wars, 35 And weary of the crash of battle cars.'

'I only ask what way my journey lies, For God, who made you bitter, made you wise.'

"The Red Branch kings a tireless banquet keep,

Where the sun falls into the Western deep. 40 Go there, and dwell on the green forest rim But tell alone your name and house to him Whose blade compels, and bid them send you

Who had a like vow from our triple dun.'

'I only of the Red Branch hosted now,' Cuchulain cried, 'have made and keep that Vow.'

After short fighting in the leafy shade,

65

He spake to the young man, 'Is there no maid

Who loves you, no white arms to wrap you

round,

I WOULD that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!

We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;

And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky, Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.

1898

20

She is not happy! It was noon;
The sun fell on my head:
And it was not an hour in which
We think upon the dead.

She is not happy! I should know
Her voice, much more her cry;
And close beside me a great rose
Had just begun to die.

She is not happy! As I walked,

Of her I was aware:

She cried out, like a creature hurt, Close by me in the air.

Under the trembling summer stars,

I turned from side to side; When she came in and sat with me, As though she had not died.

And she was kind to me and sweet, She had her ancient way;

Remembered how I liked her hand

Amid my hair to stray.

She had forgotten nothing, yet

Older she seemed, and still:

All quietly she took my kiss,

Even as a mother will.

40

Not even then I shook:

Not even by such words was I unnerved. 20

I thought, she is at peace;

Whither the child is gone, she too has

passed.

And a much needed rest

Is fallen upon her, she is still at last.

But when at length I took

25

From under all those letters one small sheet, Folded and writ in haste;

Why did my heart with sudden sharpness beat?

Alas, it was not sad!

Her saddest words I had read calmly o'er. 30 Alas, it had no pain!

Her painful words, all these I knew before.