Yet loved she not the court of kings,
But in the wild would be,
With but one maid her hair to braid
And bear her company.

So, near Lough Cara's silver sheen,
They built of turf and bark
A hut wherein from springtide green
They dwelt through winter's dark.

On seven cross-roads the hut was made,
That they might offer rest
To pilgrims by the night waylaid,
And strangers hunger-pressed.

To draw them water from the lake,
To till their little soil,
Two ancient horses did they take,
Outworn for other toil.

Once gallant chargers these had been,
Keen-eyed and prancing gay,
Who tourneys brave and wars had seen,
All decked in bright array.

But now their age in peace was spent
By kind Athracta's side;
No gallant wars, no tournament,
And yet they served with pride.

Their neighbors in the forest glades
Were stately, antlered deer,
Nor of the two most holy maids
Had these, their brothers, fear.

So dwelt the maidens there alone
For many months and years,
The doings of the world unknown,
Its wars, its woes, its tears.

But strife was stirring in the land,
And kings must castles build,
To guard them from the foeman's hand
With fire and weapon filled.

And so the King's most stern decree
Went forth upon a day,--
"My serfs must build a fort for me,
Each must his service pay.

"Each man and maiden must fulfill
In this great work his share;
It is the King of Connaught's will,
Let tardy hands beware!"

Athracta sent unto the King:
"We be but maidens twain,
My Liege, we cannot do this thing,
I beg we may refrain."

But sternly sent he back the word,--
"Ye maids must do your part."
He was a hard and cruel lord,
No pity touched his heart.

So forth they fared into the wood,
Athracta with her maid,
To fell the timber as they could,
Without of men for aid.

Heavy the axe and full of pain