Yet nought of this was uttered each to each; But when, like forest monarchs strong and proud, A silver birch beside a sinewy beech, They stood at feast to hail the gathering crowd, Swift winds of joy came full of happy speech, And through the host light raptures laughed and played, Witless of yellowing leaf or sodden shade.
Then came a day when on the bare flag-stone The slow snail crawled; the chestnut's candles turned Downward as dead; the wolf-hound with a groan Gazed in King Eochaidh's eyes through eyes that burned Great threat; the spear-grass hither and thither blown Bent on the sand and traced its rings awry, And sun and moon slid sideways down the sky.
Swiftly to Eochaidh the dread omens tell The day of forfeiture; yet to Etain No word he speaks. Her eyes so softly well With wondrous beauty, all his heart is drawn In love to hold her from the coming spell. Pushed past its hour, the unspoken doom may break, And love and honour stand without a shake.
On windy gap and boggy mountain path He sets his watchers. Knee-deep where the fists Of bracken fronds are clenched in tiny wrath, Stern guards now stand, and where in sculptured cists Old kings are harvested in Death's long swathe. Closed from alarm the shingled roofs now rise Ringed through the dark with flaming searching eyes.
The word has passed, "The king shall have his whim: No stranger looks upon the queen to-night." Around the feasting board men great of limb Shut fast each door, and blind the hope of sight With shining shields that turn the torches dim. Throned firm in strength defying power or guile, He joys, and hopes--yet fears Etain's faint smile.
Now harp and song have touched their utmost height, And fall in sudden silence at a sound Deeper than sound, and pale before a light Clearer than light. Above, beneath, around, All heaven and earth are shaken with a might Past might, swift chariots clash, and mixed with these, Far thunderings and the roar of distant seas!
And in their midst is Mider, a shining God From whose majestic presence swiftly spreads Peace not of earth. Before his face, unflawed By shadow of taint, brave warriors bow their heads. And now the king, snapping his silver rod Of power, with sudden eyes made clear, with cheeks Flamed by swift vision, through the silence speaks.