"Dear are Dunfay and Dunfin,
And dear are the hills around them;
Dear is Inis-drayon,
In dear to me Dunsaivni.
"Coilcuan, sweet Coilcuan!
Where Ainii and where Ardan came.
Happy passed my days with Naesa,
In the Western vales of Alban.
"Glenlee, O Glenlee!
Amidst thy thickets have I slept,
And amidst thy thickets feasted,
With my love in Glenlee.
"Glenmessan, O, Glenmessan!
Sweet were thy herbs and bright thy greens,
Lulled by the falling stream we slept,
On Inver's banks in Glenmessan.
"Gleneikh, bright Gleneikh!
Where my dwelling first was fixed,
The woods smiled when the rising sun
Shoots yellow arrows on Gleneikh.
"Glenarkhon, dear Glenarkhon!
Fair is the vale below high Dromkhon.
Sportive were my days with Naesa,
In the blooming vales of Glenarkhon.
"Glendarua, O Glendarua!
To me were thy people dear.
The birds sang sweetly on the bending boughs
That shaded over Glendarua.
"Dear to me is that spreading shore;
Dear the sandy-margined streams.
Never would I have forsaken them,
Had I not come with Naesa."
The events celebrated in these manuscript songs, now mustily rusting in the Dublin University collection, occurred during the first century, A. C. Deardra was the daughter of Macdoil, the historian of Ulla (Ulster); Concovar being at that time king. The plot may be briefly described:
1. At the birth of Deardra it is foretold that she shall be the cause of many calamities; but the king, unappalled by omens and predictions, causes her to be taken from Macdoil and reared under persons whom he appoints; proposing to make her queen of Ulla.
2. The beautiful Deardra conceives a passion for Naesa, one of the sons of Usna; and, with the assistance of his brothers, Ainli and Ardan, elopes with him to Alban, (Scotland,) in the western part of which Naesa has large estates.
3. A messenger arrives from Concovar conveying the king's solicitation that they return to Ulla, and bearing tokens of the king's forgiveness to Naesa and Deardra.
4. Disregarding the forebodings of Deardra, the sons of Usna accept the king's hospitality; and on the voyage Deardra sings the pathetic farewell to Alban just quoted, as if foreboding the events which follow.
5. As the vessel moors in the haven Deardra ceases to sing; but, still foreboding ruin to Naesa, advises him to place himself under the protection of Cuculiin, who has his residence at Dundalgan. Naesa's confidence in the honor of Concovar, however, prevails; and they proceed to Emana, the royal seat—Deardra foretelling their fate both in conversation and in frequent prophetic song.
6. They are received by Concovar with the semblance of kindness, and placed in the castle of the Red Arm with guards to wait upon them; while a body of mercenaries are sent to rescue Deardra and burn the castle—the troops of Ulla having refused to imbrue their hands in the blood of the heroes.
7. Naesa, Ainli, and Ardan effect their escape with Deardra; but, being pursued, are overwhelmed by the king's mercenaries and slain. Deardra sings the following lament, calling to mind every circumstance which endeared her to Naesa, and reflecting with self-tormenting ingenuity upon those transient interruptions which, occasioning uneasiness at the moment, now serve to aggravate her unavailing sorrow:
"Farewell for ever, fair coasts of Alban;
Your bays and vales shall no more delight me.
There oft from hills with Usna's sons,
I viewed the hunt below.
"The lords of Alban met in banquet.
There were the valiant sons of Usna:
And Naesa gave a secret kiss
To the fairest daughter of Dundron.
"He sent her a bind from the hill,
And a fawn beside it running;
He left the hosts of Inverness,
And turned aside to her palace.
"My soul was drunk with madness
When this they told me—told me
I set my boat upon the sea,
To sail away from Naesa.
"Ainli and Ardan brave and faithful.
Valiantly pursued me,
And brought me bark again to land,
And back again to Naesa.
"Then Naesa swore an oath to me;
And thrice he swore upon his arms.
That never would he cause me pain.
Until unto the grave they bore him.
"The maid of Dundron swore an oath;
Thrice swore the maid of Dundron,
That long as Naesa dwelt on earth
No lover else should claim her.
"Ah, did she hear this night.
That Naesa in his grave was laid,
High would be her voice of wailing,
But seven times fiercer shall be mine."
8. Standing by the grave of Naesa, Deardra concludes her lamentations with the following funeral song and panegyric, which having: sung, she springs into the grave and falls dead upon his breast:
"Long is the day to me: the sons of Usna are gone.
Their converse was sweet;
But as raindrops fall my tears.
They were as the lions on the hills of Emana.
"To the damsels of Breaton were the dear.
As hawks from the mountain they darted on the foe.
The brave knelt before them,
And nobles did them honor.
"Never did they yield in battle.
Ah! woe is me that they are gone.
Sons of the daughter of Caifa.
A host were ye in the wars of Cualna.
"By careful Aifa were they reared.
The countries round paid them tribute.
Bursting like a flood in battle,
Fought the valiant youths of Sgatha
"Uatha taught them in their youth.
The heroes were valiant in fight.
Renowed sons of Usna,
I weep, for ye have left me.
"Dark-brown were their eyebrows;
Their eyes were fires beneath;
And their faces were as embers—
As embers ruddy with flame.
"Their legs as the down of the swan—
Light and active were their limbs;
Soft and gentle were their hands,
And their arms were fair and manly.
"King of Ulla, king of Ulla!
I left thy love for Naesa.
My days are few after him.
His funeral honors are song.
"Not long shall I survive my love;
Think not so king of Ulla.
Naesa, Ainli, and Ardan,
I desire not life when you are gone.
"Life hath no joy.
My days are already too many.
Delight of my soul,
A shower of tears shall fall upon your grave.
"Ye men that dig their grave.
Dig it wide and dig it deep.
I will rest on the breast of my love
My sighs shall resound from his tomb.
"Oft were their shields their pillow,
And oft they slept upon their spears:
Lay their strong swords beside them,
And their shields beneath their heads.
"Their dogs and hawks,—
Who will now attend them?
The hunters are no more on the hills;
The valiant youths of Connai Cairni.
"My heart, it groans—it groans.
When I see the collars of their hounds.
Oft did I feed them.
But I weep when they are near.
"We were alone in the waste.
We were alone in the woodlands;
But I knew no loneliness,
Till they dug thy grave.
"My sight begins to fail.
When I view thy grave, my Naesa.
My soul hastes to depart:
And my voice of wailing to be hushed."
Thus ends one of the most pathetically beautiful tales, founded upon original history, which the epico-poetic annals of any people afford. It is far superior to any single poem amid the Svethico-Gothic remains rendered famous by the masterly translations of Longfellow. In fact, to him who shall [{397}] happily combine the requisite anthological learning with the requisite skill as a translator, no literary Golconda, more prolific in the rubies and scintillant glories of poesy, could be unlocked, except with the Aladdin-key of almost angelic invention, than is afforded in the mouldering, mildewed, and musty masses of manuscript, in queer Celtic letters, which have been permitted to rot for ages in the library of Dublin University. Had they been English, they would have been magazinistically vaunted as masterpieces in the piquant pages of "Blackwood," or amid e dreary sermonoids of the "Westminster." Being Celtic, they are, so being, neglected.
Albeit, there are to be Longfellows and Tennysons hereafter who shall be cosmopolitan, and neither exclusively English, exclusively American, nor exclusively Japanese; and men of learning there are to be hereafter, who shall be citizens of the world (in a literary sense), and not especially citizens of England, or of France, or of America, who will seek for the beautiful in strange places beyond the narrow limits of London, Paris, or New-York.