Of oil and water, candles and dark night,
Hillside and hollow, the hot-footed sun,
And the cold, sliding, slippery-footed moon—
A brief forgiveness between opposites
That have been hatreds for three times the age
Of this long-’stablished ground.
CONCHUBAR.
Listen to me.
Aoife makes war on us, and every day
Our enemies grow greater and beat the walls