St. Cummine, in whose days the lovers lived, died 661. The
language is of the ninth century.
A young poet and poetess of Connaught were betrothed; but during the year's interval preceding their marriage, Liadan, for some unexplained reason, took the veil. When Curithir returned to fetch her to his home, he found that by her vows she had for ever separated herself from him. In his despair he determined to follow her example and become a monk. The lovers placed themselves together under the direction of St. Cummine, a severe and hard man, who permitted them to meet, with the object of accusing them of wrong-doing. Finally, he gave Curithir the choice of seeing Liadan without speaking to her, or speaking to her without seeing. He chooses the latter, and henceforth they wander round each other's cells, speaking together through the wattled walls, but never looking on each other's faces. The time comes when this can be no longer borne, and Curithir sails away to strange lands on pilgrimage, so that Liadan saw him no more. She died upon the flagstone on which Curithir was wont to pray, and was buried beneath it.
The poem is in the form of a dialogue.
(Liadan speaks)
Curithir, maker of sweet song,
By me beloved, you do me wrong!
Dear master of the two Grey Feet,[106]
Is it like this we meet?
(Curithir speaks)
Of late,
Since I and Liadan understood our fate,
Each day hath been a month of fasting days,
Each month a year of doubting of God's ways.
I had my choice
To see her gentle form, or hear her voice;
"Some comfort yet may reach her from my speech,"
I said; "we have been ever looking each at each."
(Liadan speaks)
His voice comes up to me again,
Is it in blame, or is it pain?
I catch its accents strained and deep,
And cannot sleep.