nging his spear into the smoking flank,
Its flight he stayed.... He stabbed it as it sank,
The life-blood spurting; and he saw it die
Or ever dog or huntsman had come nigh.

Then eager feast they made; and after long
And frequent fast of winter, they grew strong
As they had been of old. And of their fare
The lean and scrambling hounds had ready share.

Nor over-fed they in their merry mood,
But set to hunt again, and through the wood
Scattered with eager pace, ere yet the sun
Had climbed to highest noon; for lo! each one
Had mem'ry of the famished cheeks and white
Of those who waited their return by night,
In steep Knockfarrel's desolate stockade--
O' many a beauteous and bethrothed maid,
And mothers nursing babes, and warriors lying
In winter-fever's spell, the old men dying,
And slim, fair lads who waited to acclaim,
With gladsome shout, the huntsmen when they came
With burdens of the chase ... So they pursued
The hunt till eve was nigh. In Geanies wood
Another deer they slew ...

Caoilte, who stood
On a high ridge alone ... with eager eyes
Scanning the prospect wide ... in mute surprise
Saw rising o'er Knockfarrel, a dark cloud
Of thick and writhing smoke ... Then fierce and loud
Upon his horn he blew the warning blast--
From out the woods the Fians hastened fast--
Lo! when they stared towards the western sky,
They saw their winter dwelling blazing high.

Then fear possessed them for their own, and grief
Unutterable. And thus spake their wise chief,
To whom came knowledge and the swift, sure thought--
"Alas! alas! an enemy hath wrought
Black vengeance on our kind. In yonder gleam
Of fearsome flame, the horrors of my dream
Are now accomplished--all we loved and cherished,
And sought, and fought for, in that pyre have perished!"

White-lipped they heard.... Then, wailing loud, they ran,
Following the nimble Caoilte, man by man,
Towards Knockfarrel; leaping on their spears
O'er marsh and stream. MacReithin, blind with tears,
Tumbled or leapt into a swollen flood
That swept him to the sea. But no man stood
To help or mourn him, for the eve grew dim--
And some there were, indeed, who envied him.

V.

As snarls the wolf at bay within the wood
On huntsmen and their hounds, so Garry stood
Raging before the women who had made
Secure retreat within the high stockade;
He cursed them all, and their loud laughter rang
More bitter to his heart than e'en the pang
Of his fier