Now had that old gaunt crafty one, Gathering his cloak about him, run Where Aillinn rode with waiting maids, Who amid leafy lights and shades Dreamed of the hands that would unlace Their bodices in some dim place When they had come to the marriage bed; And harpers, pondering with bowed head A music that had thought enough Of the ebb of all things to make love Grow gentle without sorrowings; And leather-coated men with slings Who peered about on every side; And amid leafy light he cried: ‘He is well out of wind and wave; They have heaped the stones above his grave In Muirthemne, and over it In changeless Ogham letters writ— _Baile, that was of Rury’s seed_. ‘But the gods long ago decreed No waiting maid should ever spread Baile and Aillinn’s marriage bed, For they should clip and clip again Where wild bees hive on the Great Plain. Therefore it is but little news That put this hurry in my shoes.’ And hurrying to the south, he came To that high hill the herdsmen name The Hill Seat of Leighin, because Some god or king had made the laws That held the land together there, In old times among the clouds of the air. That old man climbed; the day grew dim; Two swans came flying up to him, Linked by a gold chain each to each, And with low murmuring laughing speech Alighted on the windy grass. They knew him: his changed body was Tall, proud and ruddy, and light wings Were hovering over the harp-strings That Etain, Midhir’s wife, had wove In the hid place, being crazed by love. What shall I call them? fish that swim, Scale rubbing scale where light is dim By a broad water-lily leaf; Or mice in the one wheaten sheaf Forgotten at the threshing place; Or birds lost in the one clear space Of morning light in a dim sky; Or, it may be, the eyelids of one eye, Or the door pillars of one house, Or two sweet blossoming apple-boughs That have one shadow on the ground; Or the two strings that made one sound Where that wise harper’s finger ran. For this young girl and this young man Have happiness without an end, Because they have made so good a friend. They know all wonders, for they pass The towery gates of Gorias, And Findrias and Falias, And long-forgotten Murias, Among the giant kings whose hoard, Cauldron and spear and stone and sword, Was robbed before earth gave the wheat; Wandering from broken street to street They come where some huge watcher is, And tremble with their love and kiss. They know undying things, for they Wander where earth withers away, Though nothing troubles the great streams But light from the pale stars, and gleams From the holy orchards, where there is none But fruit that is of precious stone, Or apples of the sun and moon.