THE LOVING CUP

I
I raise to you, O Queen, this Loving Cup, this Mether,
Filled with Mead
Made from honey of the heather,
Brought by many a humming wing,
And with water from the spring;
Mixed by cunning hands together
In a foamy ferment
Thou would lead
Sullen tongues to song,
If along
Harpstrings now a rousing air went.
II
But in this our souls' espousal
Axe nor skeen
Throb and bleed
For the spear-clash of carousal,
Spoils of slaughter
Ravening:
No, for peace has mixed our mether,
With its Mead,
O my Queen,
Made from honey of the heather,
And with water
From the spring.
III
Ah! but what avail
Song and ale,
If beneath our quaffing
Moves not something deeper than our laughing?
IV
So to you, O Queen,
Here with hands unseen
I raise my Heart's deep Mether,
Where together,
Sweetness brought on Fancy's wing
From the flowers
Of happy hours,
And a draught from Thought's cool spring,
Blend in song's melodious ferment,
With an undertone
Caught in deeper hours alone,
When along Life's solemn harp the Spirit's air went.

NOTES

Etain the Beloved:—This poem is founded on an ancient Irish myth. It is not a translation from the Gaelic; but rather is an attempt at transfiguration, by seeking to "unfold into light" the spiritual vision that was the inspiration, and is the secret of the persistence and resilience, of the Celt. Such modifications as I have made in the story have neither archæological nor philological significance: they arise entirely from whatever measure of insight into artistic necessity, on the side of pure literature, has been granted to me; and also from obedience to a view of the universe which is embodied in the ancient Irish mythology, and whose operations the personages of the story body forth as Psyche bodied forth the soul of humanity to the Greek.

The names of the personages may be pronounced thus: Etain—Etawn', Eochaidh—Yo'hee, Ailill—Al'yil, Mider—Mid'yir.

Dagda is the Irish God of Day, Balor the Irish God of Night.

A dun is a fortified dwelling, a liss is a place for domestic animals.