Then Cuchullin cut through the spear tree with his colg, and tore forth the tree out of himself; but meantime, Lewy Mac Conroi stabbed the steed, black Shanglan, with his red hands, driving the spear through his left side, behind the shoulder, and Shanglan fell, overturning the war car, and Cuchullin sprang forth, but as he sprang Lewy Mac Conroi pierced him. through the bowels. Then fell the great hero of the Gael. Thereat the sun darkened, and the earth trembled, and a wail of agony from immortal mouths shrilled across the land, and a pale panic smote the vast host of Meav when, with a crash, fell that pillar of heroism, and that flame of the warlike valor of Erin was extinguished. Then, too, from his slain. comrade brake the divine steed, the Liath Macha; for, like a housewife's thread, the divine steed brake the traces, and the brazen chains, and the yoke and bounded forth neighing, and three times he encircled the heroes, trampling down the hosts of Meav. Afar then retreated the host, and the Liath Macha, wearing still the broken collar, went back into the realms of the unseen. But Cuchullin kissed Leagh, and Leagh, dying, said: "Farewell, O dear master and schoolfellow. Till the end of the world no servant will have a better master than thou hast been to me." And Cuchullin said: "Farewell, O dear Leagh. The gods of Erin have deserted us, and the Clan Cailitin are now abroad, and what will happen to us henceforward I know not. But true and faithful thou hast ever been to me, and it is now seventeen years since we plighted friendship, and no angry word has ever passed between us since then." Then the spirit went out of Leagh, and he died, and Cuchullin, raising his eyes, saw thence northwestward, about two hundred yards, a small lake called Loch-an-Tanaigté, and he tore forth from himself the bloody spear, and went staggering, and at times he fell; nevertheless, he reached the lake, and stooped down and drank a deep draught of the pure cold water, keen with frost, and the burning fever in his veins was allayed. After that he arose, and saw northward from the lake a tall pillar stone, the grave of a warrior slain there in some ancient war, and its name was Carrig-an-Compan. With difficulty he reached it, and he leaned awhile against the pillar, for his mind wandered, and he knew nothing for a space. After that he took off his brooch, and removing the torn bratta, he passed it round the top of the pillar, where there was an indentation in the stone, and passed the ends under his arms and around his breast, tying with languid hands a loose knot, which soon was made fast by the weight of the dying hero; so that he might not die in his sitting, or lying, but that he might die in his standing. But the host of Meav, when they beheld him, retired again, for they said that he was immortal, and that Lu Lamfada would once more come down from fairyland to his aid, and that they would wreak a terrible vengeance. So afar they retreated, when they beheld him standing with a drawn sword in his hand and the rays of the setting sun bright on his panic-striking helmet. Now, as Cuchullin stood dying, a stream of blood trickled from his wounds, and ran in a devious way down to the lake, and poured its tiny red current into the pure water; and as Cuchullin looked upon it, thinking many things in his deep mind, there came forth an otter out of the reeds of the lake and approached the pebbly strand, where the blood flowed into the water, having been attracted thither by the smell, and at the point where the blood flowed into the lake, he lapped up the lifeblood of the hero, looking up from time to time, after the manner of a dog feeding. Which seeing, Cuchullin gazed upon the otter, and he smiled for the last time, and said: 66 "O thou greedy water dog, often in my boyhood have I pursued thy race in the rivers and lakes of Murthemney; but now thou hast a full eric [blood-money], who drinkest the blood of me dying. Nor do I grudge thee this thy bloody meal. Drink on, thou happy beast. To thee, too, doubtless there will some time be an hour of woe." Then a terrible loneliness and desolation came over his mind, and again he saw the faces of the wandering clan; and they laughed around him, and taunted him, and said :"Thus shalt thou perish, O Hound, and thus shall all like thee be forsaken and deserted. An early death and desolation shall be their lot, for we are powerful over men and over gods, and the kingdom that is seen and the kingdom that is unseen belong to us ;" and they ringed him round, and chanted obscene songs, and triumphed. Nevertheless, they terrified him not, for a deep spring of stern valor was opened in his soul, and the might of his unfathomable spirit sustained him. Then was Cuchullin aware that the Clan Cailitin retired, as though in fear; and after that the soul of the mild, handsome, invincible hero departed from him. KING DATHY'S DEATH. (Translated from the Irish by James Clarence Mangan.) [JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN, an Irish poet, was born in Dublin, May 1, 1803. As a boy he was a copyist and attorney's clerk, and worked at the former trade intermittently all his life. Extreme poverty, overwork, bohemian irregularity and exposure, and opium, made him a physical wreck; and he died of cholera June 20, 1849. Several partial editions of his poems have been published. The bulk of them, and his best work, are translations.] KING DATHY assembled his Druids and Sages, What is revealed in Destiny's pages Of him or his? Hath he Aught for the Future to dread or to dree? Is he a foe of the Gall Fitted to conquer or fated to fall?" And Beirdra, the Druid, made answer as thus, - "Dathy! thy fate is not hidden from us! Thou shalt work thine own will! Thou shalt slay, thou shalt prey, And be Conqueror still! Thee the Earth shall not harm! Thee we charter and charm From all evil and ill! Thee the laurel shall crown! Thee the wave shall not drown! Thee the chain shall not bind! So Dathy he sailed away, away, VOL. V.-18 Sailed with his hosts in armor gray And many an islet conquered he, And the billow drowned him not, Till, one bright morn, at the base Of the Alps, in rich Ausonia's regions, Christian and Heathen stood there amongst those, Or die for the Eagles of Ancient Rome! When, behold! from a temple anear Of a countenance meek and clear, Spake him as thus: "King Dathy! hear! Retreat! retire! Repent in time The invader's crime; Or better for thee thou hadst never been born!" Dost thou then menace Dathy? thou! To One unknown, to One so mean, So powerless as a priest must be? And, with loud shouts for Eirè's King, Lo! a mighty earthquake's shock! Thunder crashes, Lightning flashes, And in an instant Dathy lies On the earth a mass of blackened ashes! The Irish warriors sailed away THE MAGUIRE. WHERE is my Chief, my Master, this bleak night? mavrone! Rolls real thunder? Or, was that red livid light Only a meteor? I scarce know; but through the midnight dim An awful, a tremendous night is this, meseems! The flood gates of the rivers of heaven, I think, have been burst wide; Down from the overcharged clouds, like unto headlong ocean's tide, Descends gray rain in roaring streams. Though he were even a wolf ranging the round green woods, Though he were even a pleasant salmon in the unchainable sea, Though he were a wild mountain eagle, he could scarce bear, he, This sharp sore sleet, these howling floods. O, mournful is my soul this night for Hugh Maguire! It is my bitter grief-it cuts me to the heart- |