• Deirdre

Ferg050

Take this good sword of mine. There -spreads no shield

Before the breast of champion of the Branch
But it will pierce it ; Conor's own except :
For it was forged by smiths of fairyland,
And all the voices of the floods and seas
When loudest raised, are welded in its rim.
But in this errand that I send you on
No need will either have of sword or spear.

NAISI.
Mount, Deirdre Sons of Fergus, ride beside ;
Set forward cheerly: son of Roy, adieu !

DEIRDRE.
'Tis hard to fancy fraud behind an eye
So open blue. Ride near me, Ulan Finn ;
And, as our chariot glides along the mead.
Tell me the mountains and the streams we pass,
The lakes, the woods, and mansions by the way.
What hills be these around us ?

ILLAN.
That, Knocklayd
To rightward, girded with his chalky belt ;
Lurgeden yonder, smoothly-back' d to us,
But browed like frowning giant toward the sea ;
And now to leftward, haunted by the fays,
Glenariff's birchen bowers and clear cascade.

DEIRDRE.
And in the distance, glittering to the west ?

ILLAN.
Our silver river, that; the humming Bann.

DEIRDRE.
Why humming ?

ILLAN.
'Tis a pretty country tale —

Ferg050
Coverage: 
1880
Citation: 
Linen Hall Library, "Ferg050", Northern Ireland Literary Archive, accessed Sun, 05/09/2021 - 16:59, https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/content/ferg050