Part 10

"In the Headland of the Kings, by the clear bright Boyne," answered Concobar, for Concobar concealed not ever from his enemy the place in which he would take station or camp, that they might not say that it was fear or dread that caused him not to say it. Concobar, therefore, marched toward the Headland of the Kings, across the Boyne to the southward, and facing the northern bank where are the pyramids of the Dagda Mor and the De Danaans. But the southern armies were there already, so Concobar halted before the river. Then were their positions fixed and their pavilions pitched, their huts and their tents were made. Their fires were kindled, cooking and food and drink were prepared; baths of clean bathing were made by them, and their hair was smooth-combed; their bodies were minutely cleansed, supper and food were eaten by them; and tunes and merry songs and eulogies were sung by them.

Then Concobar sent men to reconnoitre the southern and western armies. Two went and returned not, falling indeed into the hands of the foe. It seemed long to Concobar that the two were gone. He spoke, therefore, to his kinsman: "Good indeed, Irgalac, son of Macclac, son of Congal, son of Rudraige, sayest thou who is proper to go to estimate and to reconnoitre the army?"

"Who should go there," answered Irgalac, "but Iriel good at arms, great-kneed son of Conall Cernac. He is a Conall for havoc, a Cuculain for dexterity of feats. He is a Catbad, a right-wonderful Druid, for intelligence and counsel, he is a Senca son of Ailill for peace and for good speech, he is a Celtcair son of Utecar for valor, he is a Concobar son of Factna Fatac for kingliness and wide-eyed-ness, for giving of treasures and of wealth and of riches. Who but Iriel should go?"

Therefore Iriel went forward: standing on the pyramid of the Dagda, he began measuring and reconnoitering the army. His spirit, or his mind, or his thoughts did not fret over them at all. He brought their description with him to the place in which Concobar was.

"How, my life, Iriel?" said Concobar. "I give my word truly," said Iriel; "it seems to me that there is not ford on river, or stone on hill, nor highway nor road in the territory of Breg or Mide, that is not full of their horse-teams and of their servants. It seems to me that their apparel and their gear and their garments are the blaze of a royal house from the plain."

"Good, O Ulaid," said Concobar, "what is your advice to us for the battle?" "Our advice is," said the Ulaid, "to wait till our strong men and our leaders and our commanders and our supporters of battle come." Not long was their waiting, and not great was their stay, till they saw three chariot-warriors approaching them, and a band of twelve hundred along with each rider of them. It is these that were there--three of the goodly men of science of the Ulaid, to wit, Catbad the right-wonderful Druid, and Aiterni the Importunate, and Amargin the man of science and art. After them came other valiant leaders with troops. Then Concobar arose and took his gear of battle and of conflict and of combat about him, saying, "Why should we not give battle?"

A third of the army of the Ulaid rose with him, too. And they went over the river Boyne. And the other armies arose against them as they were crossing the river. And each of them took to hacking and to cutting down the other, destroying and wounding till there was no similitude of the Ulaid at that point of time, unless it were a huge sturdy oakwood in the middle of the plain, and a great army were to go close to it, and the slender and the small of the wood were cut off, but its huge sturdy oaks were left behind. Thus their young were cut off, and none but their champions and their battle-warriors and their good heroes of valor were left.

The shield of Concobar was struck so that it moaned, and the three Waves of Erin, the Wave of Clidna, the Wave of Rudraige, and the Wave of Tuag Inbir echoed that moan, and all the shields of the Ulaid resounded, every one of them that was on their shoulders and in their chariots. As the Ulaid were retreating, fresh troops came up for them under Conall Cernac. A tree of shelter and a wreath of laurel and a hand above them was Conall to them. So their flight was stayed. Then Conall drew the sharp long sword out of its sheath of war and played the music of his sword on the armies. The ring of Conall's sword was heard through the battalions on both sides. And when they heard the music of Conall's sword their hearts quaked and their eyes fluttered and their faces whitened, and each of them withdrew back into his place of battle and of combat. But so fierce was the onset of the southern armies that the fight of the Ulaid against them was as a breast against a great flood, or an arrow against the rock, or the striking of a head against cliffs. Yet through the great might of Cuculain the Ulaid prevailed, and Cairpré the King of Tara was slain. After the battle, Concobar spoke thus: "There were three sons of Ros Ruad the king--Find in Alend, Ailill in Cruac, Cairpré in Tara; together they performed their deeds of valor, the three brothers in every strife; together they used to give their battle. They were three pillars of gold about their hills, abiding in strength; great is their loss since the third son has fallen."

VII.

FIND AND OSSIN.

A.D. 200--290.

Seventeen centuries ago, two hundred summers after the death of Cuculain the hero, came the great and wonderful time of Find the son of Cumal, Ossin the son of Find, and Find's grandson Oscur. It was a period of growth and efflorescence; the spirit and imaginative powers of the people burst forth with the freshness of the prime. The life of the land was more united, coming to a national consciousness.

The five kingdoms were now clearly defined, with Meath, in the central plain, predominant over the others, and in a certain sense ruling all Ireland from the Hill of Tara. The code of honor was fixed; justice had taken well-defined forms; social life had ripened to genial urbanity. The warriors were gathered together into something like a regular army, a power rivaling the kings. Of this army, Find, son of Cumal, was the most renowned leader--a warrior and a poet, who embodied in himself the very genius of the time, its fresh naturalness, its ripeness, its imagination. No better symbol of the spirit of his age could be found than Find's own "Ode to Spring":

"May-day! delightful time! How beautiful the color! The blackbirds sing their full lay. Would that Laigay were here! The cuckoos call in constant strains. How welcome is ever the noble brightness of the season. On the margin of the leafy pools the summer swallows skim the stream. Swift horses seek the pools. The heath spreads out its long hair. The white, gentle cotton-grass grows. The sea is lulled to rest. Flowers cover the earth."

Find's large and imaginative personality is well drawn in one of the poems of his golden-tongued son Ossin, though much of the beauty of Ossin's form is lost in the change of tongue:

"Six thousand gallant men of war We sought the rath o'er Badamar; To the king's palace home we bent Our way. His bidden guests we went. 'Twas Clocar Fair, And Find was there, The Fians from the hills around Had gathered to the race-course ground. From valley deep and wooded glen Fair Munster sent its mighty men; And Fiaca, Owen's son, the king, Was there the contest witnessing. 'Twas gallant sport! With what delight Leaped thousand pulses at the sight. How all hearts bound As to the ground First are brought forth the Fian steeds, Then those from Luimnea's sunny meads. Three heats on Mac Mareda's green They run; and foremost still is seen Dill Mac Decreca's coal-black steed. At Crag-Lochgur he takes the lead.

"His is the day--and, lo! the king The coal-black steed soliciting From Dill the Druid!--'Take for it A hundred beeves; for it is fit The black horse should be mine to pay Find for his deeds of many a day.'

"Then spoke the Druid, answering His grandson, Fiaca the king: 'Take my blessing; take the steed, For the hero's fitting meed: Give it for thy honor's sake.' And to Find the King thus spake

"'Hero, take the swift black steed, Of thy valor fitting meed; And my car, in battle-raid Gazed on by the foe with fear; And a seemly steed for thy charioteer. Chieftain, be this good sword thine, Purchased with a hundred kine, In thine hand be it our aid.

Take this spear, whose point the breath Of venomed words has armed with death, And the silver-orbèd shield, Sunbeam of the battlefield! And take with thee My grayhounds three, Slender and tall, Bright-spotted all, Take them with thee, chieftain bold, With their chainlets light Of the silver white, And their neck-rings of the tawny gold. Slight not thou our offering, Son of Cumal, mighty king!"

"Uprose Find our chieftain bold, Stood before the Fian ranks, To the king spoke gracious thanks, Took the gifts the monarch gave; Then each to each these champions brave Glorious sight to see and tell, Spoke their soldier-like farewell!

"The way before us Find led then; We followed him, six thousand men, From out the Fair, six thousand brave, To Caicer's house of Cloon-na-Dave.

"Three nights, three days, did all of us Keep joyous feast in Caicer's house; Fifty rings of the yellow gold To Caicer Mac Caroll our chieftain told; As many cows and horses gave To Caicer Mac Caroll our chieftain brave. Well did Find of Innisfail Pay the price of his food and ale.

"Find rode o'er the Luacra, joyous man, Till he reached the strand at Barriman; At the lake where the foam on the billow's top Leaps white, did Find and the Fians stop.

"'Twas then that our chieftain rode and ran Along the strand of Barriman; Trying the speed Of his swift black steed,-- Who now but Find was a happy man?

"Myself and Cailté at each side, In wantonness of youthful pride, Would ride with him where he might ride. Fast and furious rode he, Urging his steed to far Tralee. On from Tralee by Lerg duv-glass, And o'er Fraegmoy, o'er Finnass, O'er Moydeo, o'er Monaken, On to Shan-iber, o'er Shan-glen, Till the clear stream of Flesk we win, And reach the pillar of Crofinn; O'er Sru-Muny, o'er Moneket, And where the fisher spreads his net To snare the salmon of Lemain, And thence to where our coursers' feet Wake the glad echoes of Loch Leane; And thus fled he, Nor slow were we; Through rough and smooth our course we strain.

"Long and swift our stride,--more fleet Than the deer of the mountain our coursers' feet! Away to Flesk by Carnwood dun; And past Mac Scalvé's Mangerton, Till Find reached Barnec Hill at last; There rested he, and then we passed Up the high hill before him, and: 'Is there no hunting hut at hand?' He thus addressed us; 'The daylight Is gone, and shelter for the night We lack.' He scarce had ended, when Gazing adown the rocky glen, On the left hand, just opposite, He saw a house with its fire lit; 'That house till now I've never seen, Though many a time and oft I've been In this wild glen. Come, look at it!'

"Yes, there are things that our poor wit Knows little of,' said Cailté; 'thus This may be some miraculous Hostel we see, whose generous blaze Thy hospitality repays, Large-handed son of Cumal!'--So On to the house all three we go...."