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  <node>
    <title>Ferg028</title>
    <Collections>Conary</Collections>
    <Contributor>Linen Hall Library</Contributor>
    <Coverage>1880</Coverage>
    <Creator>Linen Hall Library</Creator>
    <Date>Saturday, March 12, 2016</Date>
    <Format>TIFF</Format>
    <Identifier>Ferg028</Identifier>
    <ItemDescription>Manuscript</ItemDescription>
    <Keywords>Druid, Childhood, Gods</Keywords>
    <Language>English</Language>
    <Path>https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/content/ferg028</Path>
    <Publisher>Linen Hall Library</Publisher>
    <Relation>Linen Hall Library</Relation>
    <Rights>Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike CC BY-NC-SA</Rights>
    <Scannedimage>https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/sites/default/files/Ferg028_2.jpg</Scannedimage>
    <Source>LHL Archive</Source>
    <Transcript>﻿&quot; Gods ! can it be,&quot; said Conary, &quot; that my chiefs
Desert me in this peril ! &quot;
&quot; King,&quot; said Cecht,
&quot; Escape who will, we here desert thee not.&quot;
&quot; Oh, never will I think that Conall fled,&quot;
Said Ferflath. &quot; He is brave and kind and true,
And promised me he would return again.
It is these wicked sprites of fairy-land
Who have beguiled the chiefs away from us.&quot;
&quot; Alack,&quot; the Druid cried ; &quot; he speaks the truth :
He has the seer&#039;s insight which the gods
Vouchsafe to eyes of childhood. We are lost ;
And for thy fault, oh Conary, the gods
Have given us over to the spirits who dwell
Beneath the earth.&quot;
&quot; Deserted I may be.
Not yet disheartened, nor debased in soul,&quot;
Said Conary &quot; My sons are with me still,
And thou, my faithful sidesman, and you all
Companions and partakers of my days
Of glory and of power munificent,
I pray the gods forgiveness if in aught,
Weighty or trifling, I have done amiss ;
But here I stand, and will defend my life.
Let come against me power of earth or hell.
All but the gods themselves the righteous ones,
Whom I revere.&quot; 

&quot; My king,&quot; said Cecht, &quot; the knaves
Swarm thick as gnats at every door again,
Behoves us make a circuit, for ourselves.
Around the house ; for so our fortune stands
That we have left us nothing else to choose
But, out of doors, to beat them oflF, or burn
Within doors ; for they fire the house anew.&quot;
Then uprose kingly Conary himself
And put his helmet on his sacred head,
And took his good sharp weapon in his hand,
And braced himself for battle long disused. 
</Transcript>
    <Type>Text</Type>
  </node>
</>
