Argument. Baile and Aillinn were lovers, but Aengus, the Master of Love, wishing them to be happy in
his own land among the dead, told to each a story of the others death, so that their hearts were broken
and they died.
I hardly hear the curlew cry, |
Nor the grey rush when the wind is high, |
Before my thoughts
begin to run |
On the heir of Ulad, Buans son, |
Baile, who had the honey mouth; |
And that mild woman
of the south, |
Aillinn, who was King Lugaids heir. |
Their love was never drowned in care |
Of this or that
thing, nor grew cold |
Because their bodies had grown old. |
Being forbid to marry on earth, |
They blossomed
to immortal mirth. |
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About the time when Christ was born, |
When the long wars for the White Horn |
And
the Brown Bull had not yet come, |
Young Baile Honey-Mouth, whom some |
Called rather Baile Little-
Land, |
Rode out of Emain with a band |
Of harpers and young men; and they |
Imagined, as they struck
the way |
To many-pastured Muirthemne, |
That all things fell out happily, |
And there, for all that fools had
said, |
Baile and Aillinn would be wed. |
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They found an old man running there: |
He had ragged long grass-
coloured hair; |
He had knees that stuck out of his hose; |
He had puddle-water in his shoes; |
He had half
a cloak to keep him dry, |
Although he had a squirrels eye. |
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O wandering birds and rushy beds, |
You put
such folly in our heads |
With all this crying in the wind; |
No common love is to our mind, |
And our poor
Kate or Nan is less |
Than any whose unhappiness |
Awoke the harp-strings long ago. |
Yet they that know
all things but know |
That all this life can give us is |
A childs laughter, a womans kiss. |
Who was it put so
great a scorn |
In the grey reeds that night and morn |
Are trodden and broken by the herds, |
And in the
light bodies of birds |
The north wind tumbles to and fro |
And pinches among hail and snow? |
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That runner
said: I am from the south; |
I run to Baile Honey-Mouth, |
To tell him how the girl Aillinn |
Rode from the
country of her kin, |
And old and young men rode with her: |
For all that country had been astir |
If anybody
half as fair |
Had chosen a husband anywhere |
But where it could see her every day. |
When they had
ridden a little way |
An old man caught the horses head |
With: You must home again, and wed |
With somebody
in your own land. |
A young man cried and kissed her hand, |
O lady, wed with one of us; |
And when
no face grew piteous |
For any gentle thing she spake, |
She fell and died of the heart-break. |
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Because a
lovers hearts worn out, |
Being tumbled and blown about |
By its own blind imagining, |
And will believe that
anything |
That is bad enough to be true, is true, |
Bailes heart was broken in two; |
And he, being laid upon
green boughs, |
Was carried to the goodly house |
Where the Hound of Ulad sat before |
The brazen pillars
of his door, |
His face bowed low to weep the end |
Of the harpers daughter and her friend. |
For although
years had passed away |
He always wept them on that day, |
For on that day they had been betrayed; |
And
now that Honey-Mouth is laid |
Under a cairn of sleepy stone |
Before his eyes, he has tears for none, |
Although he is carrying stone, but two |
For whom the cairns but heaped anew. |
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We hold, because our
memory is |
So full of that thing and of this, |
That out of sight is out of mind. |
But the grey rush under the
wind |
And the grey bird with crooked bill |
Have such long memories that they still |
Remember Deirdre and
her man; |
And when we walk with Kate or Nan |
About the windy water-side, |
Our hearts can hear the
voices chide. |
How could we be so soon content, |
Who know the way that Naoise went? |
And they have
news of Deirdres eyes, |
Who being lovely was so wise |
Ah! wise, my heart knows well how wise. |
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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, pacing with high head |
As though their
music were enough |
To make the savage heart of love |
Grow gentle without sorrowing, |
Imagining and
pondering |
Heaven knows what calamity; |
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Anothers hurried off, cried he, |
From heat and cold and 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 Rurys seed. |
But the gods long ago decreed |
No waiting-maid should
ever spread |
Baile and Aillinns 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. |
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Then seeing that he
scarce had spoke |
Before her love-worn heart had broke, |
He ran and laughed until 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. |
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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 Edain, Midhirs wife, had
wove |
In the hid place, being crazed by love. |
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What shall I call them? fish that swim, |
Scale rubbing scale |