"Ah! Love is thine whose all-transfusing sun Burns out the mystery of life and death; And all thine hours but blossom unto one That us in utter bondage compasseth. Now to that timeless hour Time's footsteps run To rear our throne, whose foot shall never know The chafe of life's eternal ebb and flow.
"And he whose heart long time was scarred and swept By hungering winds that robbed him of repose, Wrapt in deep joy, beyond his joy has slept Into a passionless calm, that wakes and knows Love's highest bliss in honour stainless kept. Farewell, and when a little while has flown I come again." He ceased. She stood alone.
Far through the morn the horn of Eochaidh blew, Outspeeding runners hot with glad return. From post to post goes welcoming halloo: Far off the shouldered spear-heads dance and burn Through smother of wheels, and marching men that strew Their wake with dust and song, and storm at last Round dun and liss, their prosperous journey past.
And all that day go question and reply, Twin bodkins looping up the stuff of life: And all that dusk, warm cheek and glancing eye Blow up love's ruddy peat in man and wife: And all that night, harps throb and warpipes cry Around the king, enthroned in joy complete, Etain beside him, Ailill at his feet.
But through the songs of praise that round him swell, One voice to him has music sweeter far. Close to his heart she now the tale doth tell Of duty done, and love escaped a scar;-- But not of that deep hour, unspeakable With visitation from beyond the world, Shut in her heart, a blossom closely curled.
On Eochaidh's royal brow sits glad content That she, fate's minister to Ailill's pain, Who dared in faith the perilous descent, Now stands more white against averted stain. And Ailill, all his heart in service spent, Fills their glad hours with tender friendship's light Sweet as the beam that silvers quiet night.
Now at life's wheel Etain the day-long sings; Not loud, but low as one who musing waits An hour, whose promise in her deep eye springs In keen transfiguring light that contemplates The mystery of small, familiar things Made great with gleams from past the verge of sight, And strange with rumours of the infinite.
In that bright realm glimpsed through the shade of this She sees great peace resolve earth's little strife; And deepening vision sounds a deeper bliss, Till joy rolls round the fretted shores of life; And in swift stroke of hate, and love's long kiss, She marks one law work out one hidden Will, And life and death one happy doom fulfil.