e there was
about to be born a daughter, with eyes like stars that are mirrored
by night in the water, with lips red as the rowan berries and teeth
more white than pearls; with a voice more sweet than the music of
fairy harps. "A maiden fair, tall, long haired, for whom champions
will contend ... and mighty kings be envious of her lovely, faultless
form." For her sweet sake, he said, more blood should be spilt in Erin
than for generations and ages past, and many heroes and bright torches
of the Gaels should lose their lives. For love of her, three heroes of
eternal renown must give their lives away, the sea in which her starry
eyes should mirror themselves would be a sea of blood, and woe
unutterable should come on the sons of Erin. Then up spoke the lords
of the Red Branch, and grimly they looked at Felim the Harper:

"If the babe that thy wife is about to bear is to bring such evil upon
our land, better that thou shouldst shed her innocent blood ere she
spills the blood of our nation."

And Felim made answer:

"It is well spoken. Bitter it is for my wife and for me to lose a
child so beautiful, yet shall I slay her that my land may be saved
from such a doom."

But Conor, the king, spoke then, and because the witchery of the
perfect beauty and the magic charm of Deirdre was felt by him even
before she was born, he said: "She shall not die. Upon myself I take
the doom. The child shall be kept apart from all men until she is of
an age to wed. Then shall I take her for my wife, and none shall dare
to contend for her."

His voice had barely ceased, when a messenger came to Felim to tell
him that a daughter was born to him, and on his heels came a
procession of chanting women, bearing the babe on a flower-decked
cushion. And all who saw the tiny thing, with milk-white skin, and
locks "more yellow than the western gold of the summer sun," looked on
her with the fear that even the bravest heart feels on facing the
Unknown. And Cathbad spoke: "Let Deirdre be her name, sweet menace
that she is." And the babe gazed up with starry eyes at the
white-haired Druid as he chanted to her:

"_Many will be jealous of your face, O flame of beauty;
for your sake heroes shall go to exile. For there is
harm in your face; it will bring banishment and death on
the sons of kings. In your fate, O beautiful child, are
wounds and ill-doings, and shedding of blood._

"_You will have a little grave apart to yourself