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- THE GREY ROCK
-
- i{Poets with whom I learned my trade.}
- i{Companions of the Cheshire Cheese,}
- i{Here's an old story I've remade,}
- i{Imagining 'twould better please}
- i{Your cars than stories now in fashion,}
- i{Though you may think I waste my breath}
- i{Pretending that there can be passion}
- i{That has more life in it than death,}
- i{And though at bottling of your wine}
- i{Old wholesome Goban had no say;}
- i{The moral's yours because it's mine.}
- When cups went round at close of day --
- Is not that how good stories run? --
- The gods were sitting at the board
- In their great house at Slievenamon.
- They sang a drowsy song, Or snored,
- For all were full of wine and meat.
- The smoky torches made a glare
- On metal Goban 'd hammered at,
- On old deep silver rolling there
- Or on somc still unemptied cup
- That he, when frenzy stirred his thews,
- Had hammered out on mountain top
- To hold the sacred stuff he brews
- That only gods may buy of him.
- Now from that juice that made them wise
- All those had lifted up the dim
- Imaginations of their eyes,
- For one that was like woman made
- Before their sleepy eyelids ran
- And trembling with her passion said,
- "Come out and dig for a dead man,
- Who's burrowing Somewhere in the ground
- And mock him to his face and then
- Hollo him on with horse and hound,
- For he is the worst of all dead men.'
- <1We should be dazed and terror-struck,
- If we but saw in dreams that room,
- Those wine-drenched eyes, and curse our luck
- That empticd all our days to come.
- I knew a woman none could please,
- Because she dreamed when but a child
- Of men and women made like these;
- And after, when her blood ran wild,
- Had ravelled her own story out,
- And said, "In two or in three years
- I needs must marry some poor lout,'
- And having said it, burst in tears.
- Since, tavern comrades, you have died,
- Maybe your images have stood,
- Mere bone and muscle thrown aside,
- Before that roomful or as good.
- You had to face your ends when young --
- 'Twas wine or women, or some curse --
- But never made a poorer song
- That you might have a heavier purse,>1
- i{Nor gave loud service to a cause}
- i{That you might have a troop of friends,}
- i{You kept the Muses' sterner laws,}
- i{And unrepenting faced your ends,}
- i{And therefore earned the right -- and yet}
- i{Dowson and Johnson most I praise -- }
- i{To troop with those the world's forgot,}
- i{And copy their proud steady gaze.}
- "The Danish troop was driven out
- Between the dawn and dusk,' she said;
- "Although the event was long in doubt.
- Although the King of Ireland's dead
- And half the kings, before sundown
- All was accomplished.
- "When this day
- Murrough, the King of Ireland's son,
- Foot after foot was giving way,
- He and his best troops back to back
- Had perished there, but the Danes ran,
- Stricken with panic from the attack,
- The shouting of an unseen man;
- And being thankful Murrough found,
- Led by a footsole dipped in blood
- That had made prints upon the ground,
- Where by old thorn-trees that man stood;
- And though when he gazed here and there,
- He had but gazed on thorn-trees, spoke,
- ""Who is the friend that seems but air
- And yet could give so fine a stroke?''
- Thereon a young man met his eye,
- Who said, ""Because she held me in
- Her love, and would not have me die,
- Rock-nurtured Aoife took a pin,
- And pushing it into my shirt,
- Promised that for a pin's sake
- No man should see to do me hurt;
- But there it's gone; I will not take
- The fortune that had been my shame
- Seeing, King's son, what wounds you have. --
- 'Twas roundly spoke, but when night came
- He had betrayed me to his grave,
- For he and the King's son were dead.
- I'd promised him two hundred years,
- And when for all I'd done or said --
- And these immortal eyes shed tears --
- He claimed his country's need was most,
- I'd saved his life, yet for the sake
- Of a new friend he has turned a ghost.
- What does he cate if my heart break?
- I call for spade and horse and hound
- That we may harry him.' Thereon
- She cast herself upon the ground
- And rent her clothes and made her moan:
- "Why are they faithless when their might
- Is from the holy shades that rove
- The grey rock and the windy light?
- Why should the faithfullest heart most love
- The bitter sweetness of false faces?
- Why must the lasting love what passes,
- Why are the gods by men betrayed?'
- But thereon every god stood up
- With a slow smile and without sound,
- And Stretching forth his arm and cup
- To where she moaned upon the ground,
- Suddenly drenched her to the skin;
- And she with Goban's wine adrip,
- No more remembering what had been.
- Stared at the gods with laughing lip.
- i{I have kept my faith, though faith was tried,}
- i{To that rock-born, rock-wandering foot,}
- i{And thc world's altered since you died,}
- i{And I am in no good repute}
- i{With the loud host before the sea,}
- i{That think sword-strokes were better meant}
- i{Than lover's music -- let that be,}
- i{So that the wandering foot's content.}
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