“Fergus rose. A mist ascended with him, and a flash was seen As of brazen sandals blended with a mantle’s wafture green; But so thick the cloud closed o’er him, Eimena, return’d at last, Found not on the field before him but a mist-heap grey and vast. “Thrice to pierce the hoar recesses faithful Eimena essay’d; Thrice through foggy wildernesses back to open air he stray’d; Till a deep voice through the vapours fill’d the twilight far and near And the Night her starry tapers kindling, stoop’d from heaven to hear. “Seem’d as though the skiey Shepherd back to earth had cast the fleece Envying gods of old caught upward from the darkening shrines of Greece; So the white mists curl’d and glisten’d, to from heaven’s expanses bare, Stars enlarging lean’d and listen’d down the emptied depths of air. “All night long by mists surrounded Murgen lay in vapoury bars; All night long the deep voice sounded ’neath the keen, enlarging stars: But when, on the orient verges, stars grew dim and mists retired, Rising by the stone of Fergus, Murgen stood a man inspired. “ ‘Back to Sanchan!—Father, hasten, ere the hour of power be past, Ask not how obtain’d but listen to the lost lay found at last!’ ‘Yea, these words have tramp of heroes in them; and the marching rhyme Rolls the voices of the eras down the echoing steeps of Time.’ “Not till all was thrice related, thrice recital full essay’d, Sad and shamefaced, worn and faded, Murgen sought the faithful maid. ‘Ah, so haggard; ah, so altered; thou in life and love so strong!’ ‘Dearly purchased,’ Murgen falter’d, ‘life and love I’ve sold for song!’ “ ‘Woe is me, the losing bargain! what can song the dead avail?’ ‘Fame immortal,’ murmur’d Murgen, ‘long as lay delights the Gael.’ ‘Fame, alas! the price thou chargest not repays one virgin tear.’ ‘Yet the proud revenge I’ve purchased for my sire, I deem not dear.’ “ ‘So,again to Gort the splendid, when the drinking boards were spread, Sanchan, as of old attended, came and sat at table-head. ‘Bear the cup to Sanchan Torpest: twin gold goblets, Bard, are thine, If with voice and string thou harpest, _Tain-Bo-Cuailgne_, line for line.’ “ ‘Yea, with voice and string I’ll chant it. Murgen to his father’s knee Set the harp: no prelude wanted, Sanchan struck the master key, And, as bursts the brimful river all at once from caves of Cong, Forth at once, and once for ever, leap’d the torrent of the song. “Floating on a brimful torrent, men go down and banks go by: Caught adown the lyric current, Guary, captured, ear and eye, Heard no more the courtiers jeering, saw no more the walls of Gort, Creeve Roe’s(166) meads instead appearing, and Emania’s royal fort. “Vision chasing splendid vision, Sanchan roll’d the rhythmic scene; They that mock’d in lewd derision now, at gaze, with wondering mien Sate, and, as the glorying master sway’d the tightening reins of song, Felt emotion’s pulses faster—fancies faster bound along.