THEMOUNTAINY SINCE

BY SEOSAMH MAcCATHMHAO I

MAUNSEL AND COMPANY,LTD .

96 MID . ABBEY STREET,DUBLIN

I 9O9All Rig h ts Re s e rved

CONTENTS

I AM THE MOUNTAINY S INGERWH EN ROOKS FLY HOMEWARDI SP IN MY GOLDEN WEB

CHERRY 'ALLEYDARKNES SMY PIDIL I S S ING INGTHE GOAT DEALERWHY CRUSH THE CLARET ROSELAMENT OF PADRAI C MOR MAC CRUIMINTo A TOWN GIRLA MARCH MOONA THOUSAND FEET UP

THE DARKREYNARDINE

SNOWI AM THE GI LLY OF CHRI STGO, PLOUGHMAN , PLOUGHGO , REAPERTHE GOOD PEOPLETHE STORM Is STI LL, THE RAIN HATH CEASEDSCARE-THE-CROWSA CRADLE SONGTWINE TH E MAzES TH RO ’ AND TH RO’THE FIGHTING-MANMY MOTHER HAS A WEE RED SHOE

'

Contents

BY A WONDROUS MYSTERYI GATHER THREE EARS OF CORNTH E TINKER SAS I CAME OVER THE GREY, GREY HI LLSA NORTHERN LOVE-SONGTO THE GOLDEN EAGLEA PROPHECYI MET A WALK IN G-MANTH E NINEPENNY FI DILGRASSLAND S ARE FAIRWINTER SONGI FOLLOW A STARTHE S I LENCE OF UN LABOURED F IELDSTHE BEGGAR’ S WAKETHE BESOM-MANEVERY SHUILER I S CHR I STI WI SH AND I WI SHI AM THE MAN-CH I LDFRAGMENTAT TH E WH ITEN ING OF THE DAWNWHO ARE MY FRIENDSO GLORIOUS CHILDEEARERCORONACHTWILIGHT FALLENTHE DAWN WH ITENESSTHE DWARFI SEE ALL LOVE IN LOWLY TH INGS’TI S PRETTY TAE BE IN BAILE-LIOSANC IARAN , THE MASTER OF HORSES AND LANDS

'i

Contents

DEEP WAYS AND DRI PP ING BOUGH SNIGHT, AND I TRAVELLIN GNIGHT-PIECEAT MORN ING TIDETHE MAY-F IREI LOVE THE D IN OF BEATING DRUMSTHREE COLTS E'ERC I S ING IN A SI'-ACRETH E NATURA LON TH E TOP - STON ETH E WOMEN AT THE IR DOORSMY LITTLE DARK LOVEI HEARD A PI PER PI PINGTH E CLOUDS GO BY AND BYDAVY DAWBLACK S I LE OF TH E S I LVER EYEA SHEEP -DOG BARKS ON TH E MOUNTAINDEAD OAKLEAVES EVERYWHEREA NIGHT PRAYERI AM TH E MOUNTAINY S I NGERTH E RAINBOW SPANN ING A PLANET SHOWERI WILL GO WITH MY FATHER A-PLOUGH I NGTH E SH IN ING SPACES OF TH E SOUTHL IKE A TUFT OF CEANAEHANTH E HERE -LEECHWHO BUYS LANDTH E POET LOOSED A WINGED SONGS IC TRAN S IT

Th is book is mad e up of a s election from the

Author’

s early books , with many new poems added .

'ii

A LINE’

S A SPEECH

A line’s a speechSo bere’s a lineTo say this pedlar

’s packOfmineI : not a bookBut a 'ourney tbro

’

Monntainy places,Ever in viewOfibe sea and ibe fields,Witb the rougb windBlowing over ibe league:Behind

viii

I AM THE MOUNTAINY

SINGER

I am the mountainy singerThe 'oice ofthe peasant ’s dream ,

The cry of the W ind on the wooded hill,The leap of the fish in the stream .

'uiet and love I singThe cam on the mountain crest ,The cailin in her lover ’ s arms ,The child at it s mother’ s breast .

Beauty and peace I singThe fire on the open hearth,The cailleach spinning at her Wheel

,

The plough in the broken earth .

Travail and pain I SingThe bride on the childing bed,The dark man labouring at his rhymes

,

The ewe in the lambing shed .

Sorrow and death I SingThe canker come on the corn

,

The fisher lost in the mountain loch,

The cry at the mouth of morn .

NO other li fe I Sing,

For I am Sprung of the stockThat broke the hilly land for bread

,

And built the nest in the rock

WHEN ROOKS FLY

HOMEWARD

When rooks fly homewardAnd Shadows fall ,When roses foldOn the hay-yard wall ,When blind moths flutterBy door and tree ,

Then comes the quietOf Christ to me.

When stars look ou tOn the Children’s PathAnd grey mists gatherOn cam and rath,When night is oneWith the brooding sea,

Then comes the quietOf Christ to me .

I SPIN MY GOLDEN WEB

I spin my golden web in the sunThe cherries tremble

,the light is done .

A Sudden Wind sweeps over the bay,

And carries my golden web away '2

CHERRY VALLEY

In Cherry 'alley the cherries blowThe valley paths are white as snow.

And in their time with clusters redThe scented boughs are crimsoned .

Even now the moon is looking thro’The glimmer ofthe honey dew .

A petal trembles to the grass ,The feet of fairi es pass and pass .

By them, I know, all beauty comesTo me, a habitan Of slums .

I sing no rune , I say no lineThe gift Of second sight i s mine

DARKNESS

Darkness .I Stop to watch a Star shine in the bogholeA Star no longer

,but a silver ribbon Of light

.

I look at it,and pass on.

MY FID IL IS

SINGING

My fidil is singingInto the airThe wind is stirring

,

The moon is fair .

A shadow wandersAlong the roadI t stops to listen

,

And drops its load .

Dreams for a SpaceUpon the moon

,

Then passes , hummingMy mountain tune .

THE GOAT-DEALER

Did you see the goat-dealerAll in h is j acket greenI met him on the rocky road’Twixt this and Baile-doirin .

A hundred nannies ran before,

And a she- ass behind,

And then the Old wanderer himself,Burnt red with sun and wind .

He gave me the time-a-dayAnd doitered over the hill

,

Walloping hi s gay ashplantAnd shouting his fill .

I think I hear him yet.Tho ’ it ’s a giant’ s cryFrom where I hailed him first

,

Standing up to the sky .

I s that Puck Green I see beyondIt is

,and the stir is there .

By the holy hat, I know thenHe ’s making for Puck Fair

WHY CRUSH THE

CLARET ROSE

Why crush the claret roseThat blowsSO rarely on the treeWherefore the Cnmity

,dear girl

,

Betwixt the rose and theeArt thou not fair enoughWith that dark beauty given thee

,

That thou must crush the roseThat blowsSO rarely on the tree

LAMENT OF PADRAIC

MOR MAC CRUIMIN

OVER HIS SONS

I am Padra ic Mor mac Cru imin,

Son ofDomh nall of the Shroud ,Piper

,like my kind befo re me ,

To the household ofMacLeOd .

Death is in the seed of CruiminAll my music i s a wail ;Early graves await the poetsAnd the pipers ofthe Gael .

Samhain gleans the golden harvestsDuly in their tide and time

,

But my body’s fruit is blastedBarely past the Bealtein prime .

Cethlenn claims the fairest fightersFitly for her own

,her own

,

But my seven sons are strickenWhere no battle-pipe is blown .

Flowers of the forest fallenOn the Sliding summer streamLight and li fe and love are with me

,

Then are vanished into dream .

6

Berried branches ofthe rowanRifled in the Wizard windClan and generation leave me

,

Lonely on the heath behind .

Who will soothe a father’s sorrowWhen his Seven sons are goneWho will watch him in hi s sleepingWho will wake him at the dawnSeven sons are taken from meIn the compass Of a yearEvery bone is bose within me ,All my blood is whi te with fear .

Seven youths of brawn and beautyMoulder in their mountain bed ,Up in storied Inis-Scath achWhere their fathers reaped thei r bread .

Nevermore upon the mountain,

Nevermore in fair or field,

Shall ye see the seven championsOf the silver—mantled shield .

I will play the Cumbadb na Cloinne,Wildest Of the rowth Of tunesGathered by the love ofmorta lFrom the Olden druid runes .

Wail ye ' Night is on the water ;Wind and wave are roaring loudCaoine for the fallen childrenOf the piper Of MacLeOd .

TO A TOWN GIRL

'iolet mystery,Ringleted gold,Whiteness of whiteness,Wherefore so cold

Silent you sit thereSpirit and mouldDarkening the dreamThat must never be told '

A MARCH MOON

A March moonOver the mountain crest,Ceanabban blowingHer neck and breast .

Arbutus berriesOn the tree headHer mouth of passion ,Dewy and red .

Cold as coldAnd hot a s hot,She loves meAnd sh e loves me not '

8

A THOUSAND FEET UP

A thousand feet up twilight .Westwards, a clump of firtree s s ilhouetted against abank ofblue cumulus cloud ;

The June afterglow like a sea behind .

The mountain trail,white and clear where human

feet have worn it,zigzagging higher and higher

till it loses itself in the southern skyline .

A patch of young corn to my right hand,swaying

and swaying continuously,tho’ hardly an air stirs .

A falcon wheeling overhead .

The moon rising .

The damp smell Of the night in my nostril s .

O hill s , 0 hill s,TO you I lift mine eyesI kneel down and ki ss the grass under my feet .The sense Of the mystery and infinity ofthings overwhelms me

,annihilates me almost .

I kneel down,and silently worship .

THE DARK

Thi s i s the dark .

This is the dream that came ofthe dark .

This is the dreamer who dreamed the dream tha tcame of the dark .

Thi s is the look the dreamer looked wh o dreamedthe dream that came Of the dark .

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This is the love that followed the look the dreamerlooked wh o dreamed the dream that came of

the dark .

This i s the breast that fired the love that followedthe look the dreamer looked who dreamed thedream that came Of the dark .

This is the song was made to the breas t that fired thelove that followed the look the dreamer lookedwho dreamed the dream that came of thedark .

This is the sword that.

tracked the song was made tothe breast that fired the love that followedthe look the dreamer looked wh o dreamed thedream that came of the dark .

i s the rope that swung the sword that trackedthe song was made to the breas t that firedthe love that followed the look the dreamerlooked wh o dreamed the dream that came ofthe dark .

This is the da rk that buried the rope that swung thesword that tracked the song was made to thebreast that fired the love that followed thelook the dreamer looked who dreamed th e

dream that came of the dark .

This is the dark, indeed 'I O

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I AM THE GILLY

OF CHRIST

I am the gilly of Christ,

The mate of Mary’ s Son ;I run the roads at seeding time ,And when the harvest ’s done .

I sleep among the hills,

The heather i s my bedI'dip the termon-well for drinkAnd pull the Sloe for bread .

NO eye has ever seen me,

But Shepherds hear me pass,

Singing at fall of evenAlong the shadowed grass .

The beetle is my bellmanThe meadow-fire my guide ,The bee and bat my ambling nagsWhen I have need to ride .

All know me only th e Stranger,

Who sits on the Saxon ’s height ;He burned the b acach ’s little houseOn last Saint Brigid ’s Night .

He sups Ofic silver dishes,

And drinks in a golden horn,

But he will wake a wiser manUpon the Judgment Morn

1 2

I am the gilly of Christ ,The mate of Mary’s Son ;I run the roads at seeding time ,And when the harvest’ s done .

The seed I sow i s lucky,

The com I reap is red,And whoso Sings the Gi lly’s RannWill never cry for bread .

GO, PLOUGHMAN

,

PLOUGH

GO, ploughman , ploughThe mearing lands

,

The meadow lands,

The mountain landsAll li fe is bareBeneath your share ,All love is in your lusty hands .

Up , horses , now 'And straight and trueLet every broken furrow runThe strength you sweatShall blossom yetIn golden glory to the sun.

1 3

GO,REAPER

GO, reaper,Speed and reap,Go take the harvestOf the ploughThe wheat is standingBroad and deep

,

The barley glumesAre golden now .

Labour is hard,

But it enduresLike loveThe land 13 yoursGo reap the lifeI t gives you now

,

0 sunb rowned masterOf the plough

THE GOOD PEOPLE

Th e millway path looks like a wraith,The lock is black as ink,And silently in stream and SkyThe stars begin to blink .

14

I see them pass along the grassWith slow and solemn treadAoibh eall, their queen , is in betweenA corpse is at their head '

They wander on with faces wan,And dirges sad as wind .

I know not , but it may be thatThe dead’s of human kind .

THE STORM IS STILL,THE

RAIN HATH CEASED

The storm is still, the rain hath ceasedTo vex the beauty of the eastA linnet Singeth in the woodHis hermit song ofgratitude .

SO shall I s ing when li fe is doneTo greet the glory of the sun ;And cloud and star and stream and sea

Shall dance for very ecstasy 'I S

SCARE-THE—CROWS

Twopence a day for scaring crowsTho

’ the rain beats and the Wind blows

The scholars think I ’ve little wit ,But , God 'I ’ve got my share of it .

Why does the gorb ing land- sharkLeave ploughed rigs for the green park

Where little ’s to find,and nothing’ s to eat

But rabbits ’ droppings and pheasants ’ meat .

He knows better than come my wayBetween the mouth and the tail of day.

For one lick Ofmy h urding wattleWould lay him out like a showman’ s bottle '

And the thoughts that rise in my crazed headWhen the cloud is low and the Wind’s dead .

Where you see only clay and stonesI see swords and blanching bones .

I6

But I ’ll leave you now— it’s gone six,

And the smoke is curling over the ricks .

And it’s hardly like that the land- SharkWill trouble the furrows after dark .

A CRADLE—SONG

Sleep,white love

,sleep

,

A cedarn cradle holds thee,

And twilight, like a silver-woven coverlid,Enfolds thee .Moon and star keep charmed watchUpon thy lyingWater plovers thro ’ the duskAre tremulously crying .

Sleep , white love mine,Till day doth shine .

Sleep,white love

,sleep

,

The daylight wanes,and deeper

Gathers the blue darknessO ’er the cradle of the sleeper .Cliodhna

’s curach s , carmine-oared,

On Loch-da- linn are gleaming ;Blind bats flutter thro ’ the night

,

And carrion birds are screaming .

Sleep,white love mine

,

Till day doth Shine.I 7

Sleep,white love, sleep,

The holy mothers,Anne and Mary

,

Sit high in heaven, dreamingOn the seven ends Of Eire .Brigid sits beside them

,

Spinning lamb-whi te wool on whorls,Singing fragrant songs ofloveTo little naked boys and girls .

Sleep , white love mine,Till day doth shine .

TWINE THE MA'ES

THRO’

AND THRO’

Twine the mazes thro ’ and thro’Over beach and margent paleNot a bawn appears in 'iew

,

Not a sail

Round aboutIn and ou t

Thro’ the stones and sandy barsTo the music Ofthe starsThe asteroidal fire that dancesNightly in the northern blue

,

The brightest Of the boreal lances,

Dances not so light as you ,Cliodhna

Dances not so light as you .

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MY MOTHER HAS A

WEE RED SHOE

My mother has a wee red shoeShe bought it Off a bacach-man ;And all the neighbours say it

’ s trueHe stole it Off a Leath-brogan .

Bacach-man, bacach-man,Where did you get itFaith now

,says he

,

In my leather wallet '

My father has an arrow-headHe begged it off poor Feig na Blath ;And Mor

,the talking—woman

,sa id

She found it in a fairy rath .

Peig na Blath, Feig na Blath,Where did you get itFaith now, says She ,In my wincey jacket '

My brother has a copper potHe tryst ’ it wi’ a shu iler-man ;And gossip says it ’s like as notHe truff’d it from a Clob h air—ceann .

Sh u iler-man, sh u iler-man,Where did you get itFaith now

,says he ,

In my breeches’ pocket '20

BY A WONDROUS MYSTERY

By a wondrous mysteryChrist of Mary’ s fair bodyUpon a middl e winter ’s morn

,

Between the tides of night and day,

In Ara ’ s holy isle was born .

Mary went upon her kneeTravailing in ecstasy,And Brigid

,mistress of the birth

,

Full reverently and tenderlyLaid the child upon the earth .

Then the dark-eyed rose did blow,

And rivers leaped from Ou t the snow .

Earth grew lyrical the grass,

As the light winds chanced to passThan magian music more profoundMurmured in a maze of sound .

Wh ite incense rose upon the hillsAs from a thousand thuribles

,

And in the east a seven- rayed starProclaimed the news to near and far .The shepherd danced, the gilly ran ,The boatman left h is curach an

The king came riding on the windTo Offer gifts of coin and kind ;The druid dropped his ogham wand

,

And said,Another day’ s at hand,

A newer dawn is in the skyI put my withered sapling by.

The druid Christ has taken breathTO sing the runes Of li fe and death .

2 1

I GATHER THREE

EARS OF CORN

I gather three ears Of corn,

And the Black Earl from over theSails across in his s ilver ships

,

And takes two ou t of the three .

I might bu ild a house on the hillAnd a barn of the Speckly stone,And tell my little stocking ofgold,I f the Earl would let me alone .

But he h as no thought for meOnly the thought of his share ,And the softness Ofthe linsey shiftsHi s lazy daughters wear .

There i s a God in heaven ,And angels , score on score ,Wh o will not see my hearthstoneBecause I ’m crazed and poor .

My childer have my blood,

And when they get their beardsThey will not be content to runAs gillies to their herds

22

The day will come,maybe

,

When we can have our own,

And the Black Earl will come to usBegging the b acach ’s bone

THE TINKERS

One ciarog knows another t iarog,And Why Shouldn

’t I know you,you rogue

They say a stroller will never pairExcept with one of his kind and careSo talked two tinkers prone in the shoughAnd then , a s the fun got a trifle rough,They flitted he with h is corn—straw bass ,She with her load of tin and brassAs mad a match as you would see

In a twelvemonth ’s ride thro ’ Christendie .He roared— they both were drunk a s hellShe danced

,and danced it mighty well

I could have eyed them longer, butThey Staggered for the 'uarry CutThat half-perch seemed to trouble them moreThan all the leagues they’d tramped before .Some ’ll drink at the fair the morrow,

And some ’ll sup with the spoon ofsorrow ;But Whether tbey

’ll get as far as Droichid

The night— well, who knows that but God i

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As 1 CAME OVER THEGREY

,GREY HILLS

As I came over the grey,grey hi lls

And over the grey,grey water

,

I saw the gilly leading on,And the white Christ following after .

Wh ere and where does the gilly leadAnd where i s the white Christ faringThey’ve travelled the four grey sounds ofOrc

,

And the four grey seas of Eirinn.

The moon it se t and the Wind’s away,And the song in the gra ss is dying

,

And a silver Cloud on the silent seaLike a shrouding sheet is lying .

But Christ and the gilly will follow on

Till the ring in the ea st is showing,And the awny corn is red on the hills,And the golden light is glowing '

A NORTHERN LOVE SONG

Brigidin Ban Of the lint-white locks ,Wh at was it gave you that flaxen hair,Long as the summer heath in the rocksWhat was it gave you those eyes Of fire ,Lip so waxen and cheek SO wan

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Tell me,tell me , Brigidin Ban ,

Little white bride Ofmy heart ’s desire .

Was it the Good People stole you away,

Little white Changeling, Brigidin BanCarried you Off in the ring of the dawn

,

Laid like a queen on her purple car,Carried you back ’twixt the night and theGave you that fortune Offlaxen hair,Gave you those eyes of wandering fire

,

Lit at the wheel of the southern star ;Gave you that look so far away,Lip so waxen and cheek so wanTell me

,tell me , Brigidin Ban,

Little whi te bride of my heart ’s desire .

TO THE GOLDEN

EAGLE

Wanderer of the mountain,

Winger Ofthe blue ,From this s tormy rockI send my love to you .

Take me for your lover,

Dark and fierce and trueWanderer ofthe mountain

,

Winger ofthe blue25

A PROPHECY

The loins ofthe Galldach t

Shall wither like grassStrange words I heard saidAt the Fair Of Dun—eas .

A bard Shall be bornOf the seed ofthe folk,TO break with h is singingThe bond and the yoke .

A sword, white as ashes ,Shall fall from the sky,To rise , red as blood,On the charge and the cry .

Stark pipers shall blow,

Stout drummers Shall beat,And the shout Of the northShall be heard in the street .

The strong shall go down ,And the weak shall prevail,And a glory shall sitOn the Sign ofthe Gaodhal.

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THE NINEPENNY FID IL

My father and mother were IrishAnd I am I rish, too ;I bought a wee fidil for ninepence,And it is Irish

,too .

I ’m up in the morning earlyTo meet the dawn of day

,

And to the lintwhite ’s pipingThe many’s the tune I play.

One pleasant eve in June timeI met a loch rie -manHis face and hands were weazen

,

His height was not a span .

He boor ’d me for my fidilYou know,

” says he,like you

,

My father and mother were Irish,

And I am Irish,too '”

He took my wee red fidil,And such a tune he turnedThe Glai se in it whispered,The Lionan in it m’

urned .

Says he,My lad

,you ’re lucky

I wish t ’ I was like youYou ’re lucky in your birth- star,And in your fidil, too '”

28

He gave me back my fidil,

My fidil- stick,also

,

And stepping like a mayb oy,He j umped the Leargaidh 'nowe .I never saw him after,Nor met hi s gentle kind ;But , whiles , I think I hear himA-wh eening in the Wind '

My father and mother were Irish,

And I am Irish,too

I bought a wee fidil for ninepence,

And it is I rish,too .

I ’m up in the morning earlyTo meet the dawn Ofday,And to the lintwhi te ’s pipingThe many’s the tune I play.

GRASSLANDS ARE FAIR

Gra sslands are fair,

Ploughlands are rare .Grasslands are lonely

,

Ploughl ands are comely .

Grasslands breed cattle,

Plough lands feed people .Grasslands are not wrought

,

Ploughlands swell with thought .29

WINTER SONG

’Twould skin a fa iryIt i s so airy,And the snow it nips so coldShepherd and squireSit by the fire

,

The Sheep are in the fold .

You have your wishA reeking di sh

,

And rubble walls about ;SO pity the poorTh at have no doorTO keep the winter ou t '

I FOLLOW A STAR

I follow a starBurning deep in the blue,A Sign on the hillsLit for me and for you '

Moon-red is the star,

Halo-ringed like a rood,

Christ ’ s heart in its heart set,Streaming with blood .

30

Follow the gillyBeyond to the westHe leads where the Christ liesOn Mary’s white breast.

'ing, priest and prophetA chi ld, and no moreAdonai the MakerCome

,let u s adore .

THE SILENCE OF

UNLABOURED FIELDS

The silence ofunlaboured fieldsL ies like a j udgment on the airA human voice is never heardThe sighing grass i s everywhereThe sighing grass

,the shadowed Sky

,

The cattle crying wearily '

Where are the lowland people goneWhere are the sun-dark faces nowThe love that kept the quiet hearth ,

The strength that held the Speeding ploughGrasslands and lowing herds are good

,

But better human flesh and blood '3 1

THE BEGGAR’

S WAKE

I watched at a beggar’ s wakeIn the hills Of Bearna-barr

,

And the Old men were telling storiesOf Troy and the Troj an war .

And a flickering fire of bog-dealBurned on the Open hearth,And the night-wind roared in the chimney

,

And darkness was over the earth .

And Tearlach Ban MacGiolla

The piper ofGort , was thereAnd he sat and he dreamed apartIn the arms Of a sugan chair .

And Sudden he woke from his dreamLike a dream- frightened child,And h is lips were pale and trembling,And h is eyes were wild .

And he stood straight up, and he cried,With a wave of his withered hand,The days of the gra sping strangerShall be few in the land

32

The scrip of his doom is written,

The thread of his Shroud is spunThe net of his s trength is broken

,

The tide of his life is run .

Then he sank to his seat like a stone,

And the watchers stared aghast,

And they crossed themselves for fearAs the coffi n cart went past .

At the battle OfGleann-mu ic—du ibh

The fate the poets foretoldShall fall on the neck of the stranger

,

And redden the plashy mould .

The bagmen carry the storyThe circuit of Ireland round

,

And they sing it at fair and hurlingFrom Bdair to Acaill Sound .

And the folk repeat it overAbout the winter fires

,

Till the heart ofeach one listeningI s burning with fierce desires .

3 3

In the Glen of the Bristleless BoarThey say the battle Shall be ,Wh ere Breiflne ’s iron mountainsLook on the Western sea .

In the Glen of the Pig ofDiarmad ,On Gulb an

’s hither Side,

The battle shall be brokenAbout the Samh ain tide .

Forth from the ancient hills,

With war- cries s trident and loud,

The people shall march at daybreak,

Massed in a clamorous crowd .

War-pipes shall scream and cry,

And battle-banners Shall wave,

And every stone on Gulb an

Shall mark a hero ’ s grave .

The horses shall wade to their houghsIn rivers of smoking blood,Charging thro ’ heaps of corpsesScattered in whinny and wood .

The girths Shall rot from their belliesAfter the battle is done

,

For lack Of a hand to undo themAnd hide them out Of the sun.

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At this MacGiolla fainted,Tearing his yellow hair

,

And the young men cursed the stranger,

And the Old men mouthed a prayer .

For they knew the day would come ,As sure as the piper said

,

When many loves would be parted,

And many graves would be red .

And the wake broke up in tumult,

And the women were left alone ,'eening over the begga rThat died at Gobnat

’

s Stone .

THE BESOM MAN

Did you see Paidin,Paidim

,the besom-man,

Last nigh t as you came byOver the mountain i

A barth of new heatherHe bore on his shoulder,And a bundle of whitlow-gra ssUnder his oxter .

36

I spied him as he passedBeyond the cam head

,

But no eye saw himAt the hill foot after .

Wh at has come over h im i

The women are saying .

Wh at can have crossedPaidin, the besom-man

The b ogh ole s he knewAs the curlews know them

,

And the rabbits ’ pads,

And the derelict quarries .

He was humming a tuneThe Enchanted 'alleyAs he passed me westwardBeyond the cam.

I stood and I listened,

For his Singing was strangeIt rang in my earsThe long night after .

What has come overPaidim, the besom-manWhat can have crossed himThe women keep saying .

37

They talk ofthe fairiesAnd

,God forgive me

,

Paidin knew tbemL ike hi s prayers

Will you fetch wordUp to the cross - roadsI f you see track Of him ,

L iving or dead i'

The boys are loafingWithout game or caper ;And the dark piperIs gone home with the birds .

EVERY SHUILERIS CHRIST

Every shu iler is Christ,

Then be not hard or coldThe bit that goes for Ch ri s tWill come a hundred- fold.

The ear upon your cornWill burst before its timeYour roots will yield a cropWithout manure or lime .

38

And every sup you giveTo crutch him on his wayWill fill your churn with milk

,

And choke your barn with hay.

Then when the shu iler begs,Be neither hard nor coldThe share that goes for Chris tWill come a hundred- fold .

I WISH AND

I WISH

I wish and I wishAnd I wish I wereA golden beeIn the blue ofthe air

,

Winging my wayAt the mouth Of dayTO the honey margesO f Loch—ciuin-ban ;Or a little green drake,Or a silver swan,Floating uponThe stream Of Aili

,

And I to be swimmingGaily

,gaily '

39

I AM THE MAN-CHILD

I am the man- child . From a virgin womb,

Begot among the hills ofvirgin loins,

The generation ofa hundred kings,

I come . I am the man- chi ld glorious,

The love- son Of the second birth foretoldBy western bards

,the fruit of form and strength

By nature ’ s prophylactic forethought j oinedIn marriage with their kind

,the crown , the peak,

The summit Of the scheme of things,the pride

And glory ofthe hand OfGod .

BeholdWhere in the Spaces Ofthe morning worldThe sunrise Shines my harbinger, the h illsLeap up

,the young winds sing

,the rivers dance

,

The leaving forests laugh,the eagles scream

For I am one with them,a mate

,a brother

,

Bound by nature to the human soulThat thro’ the accidents Ofnature runs .And wherefore do they leap and laugh and sing

,

And dance like vestals on a holydayBecause their hearts are glad

,and maenad- like

,

They fain would share the frenzied cup they dr inkWith me

,the man- child glorious .

I am he,Even he

,the master-mould

,the paragon

Behold me in my nonage,child and man40

The ripest grape on beauty’ s procreant 'ine,The reddest apple of ingatheringPerfect in form

,of peerless strength

,and free

As Caoilte when he roamed the primal hills'Those wildernesses rich with libertyA hero that the shocks Ofchance might Strike,But never tame

,a giant druid—ringed

,

A god-like savage of the golden daysEre service shackled action free itselfAs Oisin when he strayed in Doire-cairn

,

His hand upon the mountain top,his feet

Fixt in the flowing sea, his holy headCrowned by a flight Ofbirds

,acclaiming him

The singer Of the dawn .

FRAGMENT

I stand upon the summit nowThe falcon

,flying from the heath

,

Trails darkly o ’er the mountain browAnd drops into the gloom beneath .

Night falls,and with it comes the wind

That blew on Fionn time out of mind,

When weary of love- feasts and warsHe left his comrades all behindTo dream upon the quiet stars .Here on the lonely mountain heightI s ecsta sy and living light

41

The living inner light that burnsWith magic caught from those white urnsThat wander thro ’ the trackless blueForever

,touching those they know

With beauty, and the things that comeO f beauty . Earth lies at my feet

,

A dumb, vast shadow,vast as dumb .

AT THE WHITENING

OF THE DAWN

At the whitening of the dawn,

As I came o’er the windy water,I saw the salmon-fish er’s daughterNuala u i Ch olumain.

Nuala ni Ch olumain,

Nuala ni Ch olumain,

Palest lily of the dawnIs Nuala ni Ch olumain.

In the dark OfevendownI went o ’er the quiet water,Dreaming of the fish er’s daughterAnd her bothy in the town .

And I made this simple rannEre the whi tening Ofthe dawn

,

Singing to the beauty wanOf Nuala ni Cholumain.

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O GLORIOUS CHILDBEARER

O glorious ch ildb earer,0 secret womb

,

O gilded bridechamber,from which hath come the

sightly Bridegroom forth,

O amber veil,

Thou Sittest in heaven,the whi te love of the Gael .

Thy head is crowned with stars,thy radiant hair

Shines like a river thro ’ the twilight air ;Thou walkest by trodden ways and trackless seas

,

Immaculate Of man ’s infirmities .

CORONACH

Come,pipes

,sound

A crooning coronach round,

Till hill and hollow glen arid shadowed lake o’erflowWith welling music Ofour woe .Beat, beat, ye muffl ed drums , ye drones and chanterswail

,

With heartbreak of the baffled, battle-broken Gael.The clay is deep on Ireland’s breastHer proud and bleeding heart i s laid at last to rest

To rest to rest44

TWILIGHT FALLEN

Twilight fallen white and cold,

Child in cradle,lamb in fold

Glimmering thro ’ the ghostly trees,

Gemini and Pleiades .Wounds of Eloim,

Weep on me

Black-winged vampires flitting by,

Curlews crying in the sky ;Grey mists wreathing from the ground,Wrapping rath and burial mound .

Wounds OfEloim,

Weep on me

Heard like some sad Gaelic strain,

Ocean 8 ancient voice in painDarkness folding hill and wood

,

Sorrow drinking at my blood .

Wounds of Eloim,

Weep on me

THE DAWN WHITENESS

The dawn whiteness .A bank Of slate-grey cloud lying heavilyover it .The moon

,like a hunted thing, dropping

into the cloud .

45

THE DWARF

Look at him now,the son

,

And the churchyard twi st in his foot,

Standing there by his mother ’ s door,

As i f he had taken root '

She crossed a grave,they say,

On a black day in spring,And bore him in the seventh monthA poor

,misshapen thing .

'neeling down in the darkShe travailed without a cry

,

And gave him the mothering ki ssBetween the earth and the sky .

He licks cuckoo- Spittle , they say,And eats the dung of the roads

,

Mocking the journeymenAS they pass by with their loads .

Look at his little faceAS grey as wool is greyAnd the cast in his green eye .

SO Wild and far away .

46

Does he se e Magh-mealaIS his breath human breathAre hi s thoughts of the hidden thingsUntouched by time and death

Hanging there by the half—door,Dangling his devil ’s foot

,

Stock—still on the threshold,As if he had taken root '

I SEE ALL LOVE IN

LOWLY THINGS

I see all love in lowly things,

NO les s than in the lusts of kingsAll beauty, shape and comeliness ,All valour

,strength and gentleness

,

All genius, wit and holiness .

Out ofcorruption comes the flower,

The corn i s kindred with the clayThe plough-hand is a hand Ofpower

,

Nobler than gold,brighter than day.

Then let the leper li ft h is head,

The cripple dance,the captive Sing

,

The beggar reap and eat his breadHe is no baser than a king '

47

’

TIS PRETTY TAE BE

IN BAILE-LIOSAN

’Tis pretty tae be in Baile-liosan,

’Tis pretty tae be in green Magh- luan ;’Tis prettier tae be in Newtownbreda

,

Be eking under th e eaves in June .

The cummers are out wi’ their knitting and spinning,The thrush sings frae his crib on the wa’ ,And o

’er the white road the clachan caddies

Play at their marlies and goaling- b a’

0,fair are the fields 0 ’ Baile- liosan

,

And fair are the faes 0 ’ green Magh- luan ;But fairer the flowers 0’ Newtownbreda

,

Wet wi’ dew in the eves 0 ’ June .

’Tis pleasant tae saunter the clachan thoro ’When day sinks mellow O

’er Du b h ais hill

,

And feel their fragrance sae softly breathingFrae croft and causey and window—s ill .

O,brave are the haughs O ’ Baile-liosan

,

And brave are the balds 0 ’ green Magh- luan ;But braver the hames O ’ Newtownbreda

,

Twined about W i’ the pinks 0 ’ June .

And just as the face is sae kindly with outen,The heart within is a s guid as goldWi’ new fair ballants and merry music ,And cracks cam ’ down frae the days of Old .

48

’Tis pretty tae be in Baile—liosan,

’Tis pretty tae be in green Magh- luan ;’Tis prettier tae be in Newtownbreda ,Becking under the eaves in June .

The cummers are ou t wi’ their knitting and Spinning,The thrush sings frae his crib on the wa’

,

And o’er the whi te road the clachan caddiesPlay at their marlies and goaling-b a’ .

CIARAN,THE MASTER

OF HORSES AND LANDS

Ciaran,the master of horses and lands,

Once had no more than the horn on his hands .

But Ciaran i s rich now,and Ciaran is great

,

And rides with the air of a squire of estate .

O Christ 'and to see the man up on the backOf a thoroughbred stallion

,a bay or a black '

There ’ s not a h orseb reeder from Banna to LaoiCan handle the snaffl e so pretty as he

And Ciaran,for all

,has the wit of a child,

A heart just as soft , and an eye just a s mild .

NO maker of ballads puts curse at hi s doorHe handsels the Singer

,and harbours the poor .

For Ciaran,the master of horses and lands ,

Once had no more than the horn on his hands .49

DEEP WAYS AND

DR IPPING BOUGHS

Deep ways and dripping boughs ,The fog falling drearily ;Cowherds calling on their cows,And I crying wearily,Wearily

,wearily, out—a-door,

Houseless,hearthless, coatless, kindless ,

Poorest Of the wandering poor .

I am the beggar ChristChrist that calmed the castling flood 'Cross and thorn have not suflicedTO punish me as you would ;But out-a-door in Wind and rain

,

Houseless,hearthless , coatless, kindless,

You keep me wandering in pa in .

NIGHT,AND I TRAVELLING

Night, and I travelling .

An Open door by the wayside,Throwing out a shaft of warm yellow light .A wh ifl Of peat- smokeA gleam ofdelf on the dresser Within ;A woman’ s voice crooning, a s if to a ch ild .

I pass on into the darkness .50

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The gilly stoodUpon his right hand : at his feetThe fishers

,Peter, James and John,

'nelt worshippingWith outstretched arms , and eyesTo heaven turnedAnd Maria

,hi s mother sweet,

'The partner of his mysteries',And Magdalen and SalomeCame thro’ the doorway ofthe dayBehind him

,weeping.

Then a cloud came o’erMy senses

,and I saw and heard no more '

THE MAY FIRE

Come away, 0 Maire BanCome away

,come away

Where the heads of oeanabbanTremble in the twilight air

,

And the rushes nod and sway,

And no other sound is heardBut the swaying of the rushes

,

And the shouts from Croc-an- air,

And the singing of the fidils,

And the laughing of the dancersRound about the yellow fire

,

And the scream of the water-bird .

5 2

Come away, 0 life ofme,

0 bone ofme , O blood of meFeilim has a tale to tellHe would own his love for thee

,

Smitten first at Mura ’ s well,

Bitten at the Lammas pattern,

By the blessed Mura ’s well .He would tell thee , Maire Ban,How hi s pulses leap and thrill'uicker than the Old men ’ s fidils ,Singing out from yonder hill .

Come away, 0 heart ’ s desire ,From the ruddy- featured circle

,

From the story- telling circle,

By the wreathing Bealtein fire .Come away, come away,Come away ,

* O Maire Ban ,Where the heads ofceanabbanTremble in the twilight air

,

And the voice of love is heardWhispering O ’er the bending rushesLike a hidden

,holy bird .

Come away, 0 Maire BanFe ilim’

s face is fairy-wan ,Feilim’

s heart is sick and pale,Languishing for love ofthee .

5 3

I LOVE THE DIN OF

BEATING DRUMS

I love the din of beating drums,

The bellowing pipe, the shrieking fifeThe discord and the dissonance is mybreath

,my life '

The di scord and the dissonance is my life

Away with flutes and dancing lutesSuch music likes but lovers ’ earsGive me the beating b attledrum,

The gunp eal and the Cheers 'The bellowing pipe and b attledrum,

The gunp eal and the cheers

THREE COLTS E'ERCISING

IN A SI' -ACRE

Three colts exercising in a six-acre ,A hi lly sweep ofunfenced grass over the road .

What a picture they make against the skylineNecks stretched

,hocks moving royally, tails flying ;

Farm-lads up,and they crouching low on their withers .

I have a j ourney to goA lawyer to see , and a paper to Sign in the TontineBut I Slacken my pace to watch them .

54

THE NATURAL

Lend us the loan ofa halfpenny, sir'And he passed with hi s Splendid nose in the air .

A gaunt,grey carcase of Skin and bones ,

AS cold as the river, as hard as the stones .

TO him the highway was table and bed,Shift for the newborn and sheet for the dead .

The wind that blew from Beola crestSeemed fire to fetter h is wild unrest .

The rain that beat on h is neck and face ,A goad to quicken him in hi s pa ce .

I

But sorrow a step he changed,and his prayer

Was st ill Lend us the loan ofa halfpenny,sir

ON THE TOP STONE

On the top - stone .A nipping wind blowing .

Winter dusk closing in from the south Ards .The moon rising, white and fantastic , overand the town below .

I take Off my hat,salute her, and descend

darkness .5 5

THE WOMEN AT

THEIR DOORS

The babes were asleep in their cradles,

And the day’ s drudge was done,

And the women brought their suppers outTo eat them in the sun .

To-night I will set my needles,Aine

,

And Boghan will have stockings to wearI spun the wool of the horny ewe

He bought at the hiring fair .

But what is that sound I hear,Nabla

It i s like the cheering of men .

God keep our kind from the devil’s snareAnd the women answered

,Amen

Then the moon rose over the valley,And the cheering died away

,

And the women went within their doorsAt the mouth ofthe summer day.

And no men came in at midnight ,And no men came in at the dawn ,And the women keened by their ashy firesTill their faces were haggard and wan.

For they knew they had gone to the trystingWith pike and musketoon,TO fight for their hearths and altarsAt the rising of the moon

56

MY LITTLE DARK LOVE

My little dark love is a Wineberry,As swarth and as sweet

,I hold ;

But a s the dew on the wineberryHer heart is a- cold .

I would her love were as warm as the lightThat lives in her eye of grey

,

And then my heart would know the peaceIt dreams in the hills away .

I would her love were a s red as the roseThat blows on her cheek ofbrown,And then my sunless soul would laughAt the woe that weighs it down .

She dwells in the valley,my little dark love,

Where the river sings to the sea,

And an ogham- stone sits by her door,

And nigh to it hazels three .

And oft when the purple twilight comes,And the blind bats flit in the air

,

I wander down from the quiet hillsTo seek my sweetheart there .

But sh e comes never— she loves not me ,Nor ever will love

,I hold ;

For tho ’ my heart i s a peat offire ,Her heart is a-cold '

57

I HEARD A PIPER

PIPING

I heard a piper pipingThe blue hills amongAnd never did I hearSo pla intive a song .

I t seemed but a partOf the hill s ’ melancholy:LNo piper living thereCould ever be j olly '

And still the piper pipedThe blue hills among,And all the birds were quietTo listen to his song .

THE CLOUDS GO

BY AND BY

The Clouds go by and by,The heron sings in the blueAnd I lie dreaming

, dreamingEver ofyou .

The stag on the hi ll i s free,And the wind is blowing sweetBut I lie bound a pri sonerAt your feet .

5 8

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The wind i s low and scent is good,

And Mada ’ s on the greenHe hi d hi s head in Cratla WoodSince early yestere

’en .

You beat the bush from peep oflight ,And set the whins afireAnd now the tory 13 In Sight ,You ’ve got your heart

’ s desire .

Davy Daw, Davy Daw, for a crab well-brownedIn the smiling flood of a cru iscin drowned .

Give me,sirree

,my crab and ale

,

And b og or batter,my heart won’t fail

The sun is out , and Davy’ s up ,And hounds are on the runIt

’s hard he ’ll earn his stirrup-cup

Before the day is done 'A jolly life we hunters leadUpon the saddle highWe see no devil in the bead

,

And drain our noggins dry.

Davy Daw,Davy Daw i s a huntsman bold ;

He ’ s more to me than a kingdom’ s gold .

A hind for dinner and a hare to sup

0 that ’ s what I get when Davy’ s up '60

The fox is fast upon the hill,He ’s wa ry in the daleBut I will ride to Penny MillBefore I lose h is tail .That brush was born to make a capFor gallant Eoin Og ;And I will have it

,hang-or-hap,

As sure a s I ’m a,

rogu e .

Davy Daw,Davy Daw,

for a morning chase,

With an Irish blood to make the paceHe ’s last to check and first to View

,

And hard to the death he leads his queue .

Day in we hunt the Spinney fox,Day ou t the rappareeHis cave is in the broken rocksAbove the Correi-b u idh e .

A shameful thing,the ladies say,

To hunt your fellow-manBut follow him till hard at bayI t ’ s just the ladies can 'Davy Daw, Davy Daw, the brush is wonA good j ob

,s ir, our work i s done .

Whitefoot went lame this side 0 ’ the mill ,And I ’m as dry as an Old lime-kiln .

Red rogue, he ’ll kill hi s goose no moreClose work it was , for the light is o ’er.

Just close work, Sir, but the Dub’ s close to,

With a can for me and a crab for you '6 1

BLACK SILE OF THE

SILVER EYE

As I rode down to Gartan fairI met a girl upon the way :The winter night was on her hair,The summer dawn was in her eye .

And 0,sh e stepped with such a gait,

And bore her round black head so high,And tossed it so

,I knew her straight

For Sile of the Silver Eye .

God save you, Sile, love, says IGod save you kindiy,

”ri1urmured sh e

And love was welling In her eyeAs sh e dropped me the courtesy .

The mountain boys upon the roadWere at themselves for j ealousyWhen they saw Seamus win the nodFrom Sile of the Silver Eye .

We rode together to the fair ,We danced together on the green ;And, faith, they say a suppler pairWas ne’er before a piper seen .

62

Black Sile Of the Silver EyeHas been my wife for twenty year

,

And still her Sloe-black head is high,

And still her eye is s ilver clear .

And, God be praised, we have a girl,

As like her as like well can b eThe round black head

,the roguish curl

,

The soft tongue and the silver eye .

God bless the old,God bles s the new,

And send them stout posterityOld Sile and young Sile

,too

Both Sile of the Silver Eye

A SHEEPDOG BARKS

ON THE MOUNTAIN

A sheepdog barks on the mountain,The night is fallen cold ;The shepherd blinks at h is fire ,The sheep are in the fold .

The moon comes white and quietInto the winter skyAnd nothing walks the valleyTO-night but you and I .

63

DEAD OAKLEAVES

EVERYWHERE

Dead oakleaves everywhereUnder my feet

,

Filling the forest airWith odours sweet .

Acorns,three

,four and five

,

Falling apace .Thank God I am aliveThis day of grace

A NIGHT PRAYER

Pray for me , Seachnal,Pray for me

,Mel

Save me from sin

And the cold stone of hell '

Brigid and ItaAnd Eithne the Red ,Spread out your mantlesAnd cover my bed '

For rann and gospelHave gone from my mind,And devils are walkingAbroad in the wind '

64

I AM THE MOUNTAINY

SINGER

I am the mounta iny Singer,And I would sing ofthe ChristWho followed the paths thro ’ the mounta insTo eat at the people ’ s tryst .

He loved the sun-dark peopleAS the young man loves his bride

,

And he moved among their thatches,

And for them he was crucified .

And the people loved him, also ,More than their houses or lands

,

For they had known hi s pityAnd felt the touch ofh is hands .

And they dreamed with him In the mountains,

And they walked with him on the sea,

And they prayed with him In the garden,

And bled with him on the tree .

Not ever by longing and dreamingMay they come to him now

,

But by the thorns Of sorrowThat e Ised hi s kin brow.

THE RAINBOW SPANNING

A PLANET SHOWER

The rainbow Spanning a planet shower,The sloe in berry, the flax in flower .

The scholar ’s satchel , the beggar’s Staff,The ploughman’s whistle

,the tinker’ s laugh .

The stranded hooker,the breaking wave

,

The sunri se gilding the cam ofMedb .

The strength ofmountains,the swiftness of wind

Blowing over the leagues behind .

The hot lips sealing the spoken word,

The song in gentle places heard .

The wildgoose trumpeting in the blue ,The p ostcar stuck in a drift Ofsnow .

The b ogslide moving, the seaward leap ,The cry

,the townland whelmed in sleep .

The sock on the anvil,the thread in the loom ,

The Host on the altar, the child in the womb .

The wayside murder, the whispered name ,The hanging body

,the hidden shame .

And more— ifyou but listen and lookIn this , my elemental book '

66

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THE SHINING SPACES

OF THE SOUTH

The shining spaces of the south ,The circle of the year

,the sea

,

The blowing rose,the maiden’s mouth

,

The love, the hate, the ecstasy,The golden wood, the shadowed stream ,

The dew, the light, the wind, the rain,The man’ s desire

,the woman’s dream

The bed embrace,the childing pain

,

The sound of music heard afar,

The breathing grass , the broken sod,The sun

,the moon

,the twilight star

Do all proclaim the mind of God .

Then why should I , wh o am but clay,Think otherwise

,or answer nay

LIKE A TUFT OF

CEANABHANL ike a tuft of ceanabbanBlowing in the windI s my slender Aine BanWhite and soft and kind

' ind her heart is , but her clann’sCold as clay or stone .Would that I had herds and landsTo take her for my own

68

THE HERB-LEECH

I have gathered lassAt the wane ofthe moon,And supped its sapWith a yewen spoon .

I have sat a spellBy the cam of Medb ,And smelt the mouldOf the red queen ’s grave .I have dreamed a dearthIn the darkened sun,

And felt the handOf the Evil One .I have fathomed warIn the comet ’s tail,And heard the cryingOf Gall and Gael .I have seen the spumeOn the dead priest ’s lips ,And the holy fireOn the Spars of ships ;And the shooting starsOn Barth elmy

’s Night,

Blanching the darkWith ghostly lightAnd the corpse—candleOf the seer’s dream

,

Bigger in girthThan a weaver’s beam ;

69

And the shy hearth- fairiesAbout the grate

,

Blowing the turvesTo a whiter heat .All things on earthTo me are known,For I have the giftOf the Murrain Stone

WHO BUYS LAND

Wh o buys land buys many stonesWh o buys flesh buys many bonesWh o buys eggs buys many Shells

,

Who buys love buys nothing else .

Love is a burr upon the floor,

Love is a thief behind the doorWh o loves leman for her breathMay quench his fire and cry for death

Love is a bridle , love i s a load,Love is a thorn upon the road ;Love i s the fly that flits its hour

,

Love is the shining venom-flower.

Love is a net, love is a snare,Love is a bubble blown with airLove starts hot, and waning cold,I s withered in the grave ’s mould

70

THE POET LOOSED

A WINGED SONG

The poet loosed a winged songAga inst the hulk ofEngland’s wrong .

Were poisoned words at his command,

’Twould not avail for Ireland .

The soldier lifted up a sword,

And on the hills in battle pouredHis life-blood like an ebbing seaAnd still we pine for liberty.

The friar spoke hi s bitter hOp e ,And danced upon the gallows rope .

Were he to dance that dance againA hundred times, ’twould be in vain .

Chris t save us only thou canst saveThe nation staggers to the grave .Can genius

,valour, faith be given ,

And win no recompense of heaven

NO, Christ 'by Ireland’s martyrs , no '’Twas not for this we suffered so .

D ie , die aga in on Calvary tree ,I f needs be, Chri s t, to set us free

To set us free7 I

SIC TRANSIT

I li t my tallowAn hour ago,And now it is burningDark and low .

The glimmer lengthensAnd turns about ,Sinks in the sconceThen flickers out