The Fians sojourned by the shore Of comely Cromarty, and o'er The wooded hill pursued the chase With ardour.‘ Twas a full moon's space
Ere Beltanerites would be begun With homage to the rising sun — Ere to the spirits of the dead Would sacrificial blood be shed
In yon green grove of Navity — When Conn came over the Eastern Sea, His heart aflame with vengeful ire, To seek for Goll, who slew his sire
When he was seven years old. Finn saw In dreams, ere yet he came, with awe The Red One's son, so fierce and bold,
In combat with his hero old — The king-like Goll of valorous might — A stormy billow in the fight No foe could ere withstand.
He knew The strange ship bore brave Conn, and blew Clear on his horn the Warning Call; And round him thronged the Fians all
With wond'ring gaze. The sun drew nigh The bale-fires of the western sky, And faggot clouds with blood-red glare,
Caught flame, and in the radiant air Lone Wyvis like a jewel shone — The Fians, as they stared at Conn, Were stooping on the high Look-Out.
They watched the ship that tacked about, Now slant across the firth, and now Laid bare below the cliff's broad brow, And heaving on a billowy steep,
Like to a monster of the deep That wallowed, labouring in pain — And Conn stared back with cold disdain. Pondering, he sat alone behind
The broad sail swallowing the wind, As over the hollowing waves that leapt And snarled with foaming lips, and swept Around the bows in querulous fray,
And tossed in curves of drenching spray, The belching ship with ardour drove; Then like a lordly elk that strove Amid the hounds and, charging, rent
The pack asunder as it went, It bore round and in beauty sprang — The sea-wind through the cordage sang With high and wintry merriment
That stirred the heart of Conn, intent On vengeance, and for battle keen — So hard, so steadfast, and serene. Then Ossian, sweet of speech, spake low,
With musing eyes upon the foe, “Is Conn more noble than The Red, Whom Goll in battle vanquished?” “The Red was fiercer,” Conan cried —
“Nay, Conn is nobler,” Finn replied, “More comely, stalwart, mightier far — What sayest thou, Goll, my man of war?” Then Goll made answer on the steep,
Nor ceased to gaze on Conn full deep — “His equal never came before Across the seas to Alban shore, Nor ever have I peered upon
A nobler, mightier man than Conn” The ship flew seaward, tacking wide, Contending with the wind and tide, And when upon the broad stream's track
It baffled hung, or drifted back, With grunt and shriek, like battling boars, The shock and swing of bladed oars Came sounding o'er the sea
The dusk Grew round the twilight, like a husk That holds a kernel choice, and keen, Cold stars impaled the sky serene,
When Conn's ship through the slackening tide Drew round the wistful bay and wide, Behind the headlands high that snout The seas like giant whales, and spout
The salt foam high and loud Then sighed The gasping men who all day plied Their oars in plunging seas, with hands
Grown stiff, and arms, like twisted bands Drawn numbly, as they rose outspent, And staggering from their benches went The sail napped quarrelling, and drank
The wind in broken gasps, and sank With sullen pride upon the boards, And smote the mast and shook the cords Darkly loomed that alien land,
And darkly lowered the Fian band, For hovering on the shoreland grey The ship they followed round the bay Nor sought the sheltering woods until
The shadows folded o'er the hill Full heavily, and night fell blind, And laid its spell upon the wind The swelling waters sank with sip
And hollow gurgle round the ship, The long mast rocked against the dim, Soft heaven above the headland's rim But while the seamen crouched to sleep,
Conn sat alone in reverie deep, And saw before him in a maze The mute procession of his days, In gloom and glamour wending fast —
His heart a-hungering for the past — Again he leapt, a tender boy, To greet his sire with eager joy, When he came over the wide North Sea,
Enriched with spoils of victory — Then heavily loomed that fateful morn When tidings of his fall were borne From Alban shore... Again he saw
The youth who went alone with awe To swear the avenging oath before The smoking altar red with gore. Ah! strange to him it seemed to be
That hour was drawing nigh when he Would vengeance take... And still more strange, O sorrow! it would bring no change Though blood for blood be spilled, and life
For life be taken in fierce strife; ‘ Twill ne'er recall the life long sped, Or break the silence of the dead. But when he heard his mother's wail,
Once more uplifted on the gale, Moaning The Red who ne'er returned — His cheeks with sudden passion burned; And darkly frowned that valiant man,
As through his quivering body ran The lightnings of impelling ire And impulses of fierce desire, That surged, with a consuming hate
Against a world made desolate, Unceasing and unreconciled, And ever clamouring... like wild, Dark-deeded waves that stun the shore,
And through the anguished twilight roar The hungry passions of the wide And gluttonous deep unsatisfied.
Cookies on Poetry Cove