The Great Lamentation of Deirdre for the Sons of Usna

"As to Deirdre, she was a year in the household of Conchobar, after the death of the Sons of Usna. And though it might be a little thing to raise her head or to bring a smile over her lip, never once did she do it through all that space of time.... She took not sufficiency of food or sleep, nor lifted her head from her knee. When people of amusement were sent to her, she would break out into lamentation:—

Splendid in your eyes may be the impetuous champions
Who resort to Emain after a foray;
More brilliant yet was the return
Of Usna's heroes to their home!

Noisi bearing pleasant mead of hazel-nuts;
I myself bathed him at the fire;
Ardan bore an ox or boar of goodly size,
Ainle, a load of faggots on his stately back.

Sweet though the excellent mead be found
Drunk by the son of Ness of mighty conflicts;
I have shared ere now, from a chase on the borders,
Abundant provender more delicious!

When for the cooking-hearth noble Noisi
Unbound the faggots on the forest hero-board,
More pleasant than honey was each food,
Better than all other the spoil brought in by Usna's sons.

How melodious soever at every time
May be the sound of pipes and horns,
Here to-day I make my confession,
I have heard music sweeter far!

Here with Conchobar the king
Sweet the sound of pipes and horns;
More melodious to me the music,
Famous and entrancing, of Usna's sons.

The sound of the wave was the voice of Noisi,
Melodious music that wearied not ever;
Mellow the rich-toned notes of Ardan,
Or the deep chant of Ainle through the hunting-booth.

They have laid Noisi in the grave;
Woeful to me was that convey,
The company whose act poured out for them
The venomed draught from which they died.

Loved one of the well-trimmed beard! most fair is thy renown!
Shapely one, though thy renown be fair!
Alas! to-day I rise not up
To greet the coming of Usna's sons.

Beloved thy firm and upright mind!
Beloved, high champion, modest-hearted,
After our wandering through the forests of Fál,
Gentle the caress of midnight.

Dear the grey eye, a woman's love;
Though stern of aspect to the foe!
As we passed through the trees to the simple tryst,
Delightful thy deep notes across the sombre woods!

I sleep no more!
No more I stain my finger-nails with red;
No greeting comes to me who watch—
The sons of Usna return no more.

I sleep not!
Through half the wakeful night
My mind is wandering out amongst the hosts;
Yet more than that, I neither eat nor smile.

For me to-day no instant of deep joy,
Nor noble house, nor rich adornments please;
In Emain's gatherings of her mighty men
I find no peace, nor pleasure, nor repose.

Splendid as in your eyes may be the impetuous champions
Who resort to Emain after a foray;
More brilliant yet was the return
Of Usna's heroes to their home!"

When King Conchobar sought to soothe her, she would answer:

"What, O Conchobar, of thee?
To me nought but tears and lamentation hast thou meted out;
This is my life, so long as life shall last;
Thy love for me is as a flame put out.

He who to me was fairest under heaven,
He who was most beloved,
Thou hast torn him from me, great was the injury,
I see him not until I die.

The secret of my grief, that it is gone,
The form of Usna's son revealed to me;
A pile I see dark-black above a corpse,
Bright and well known to me beyond all else.

Break not, my heart, to-day!
I sink ere long into an early grave;
Like to the strong sea-wave
The grief that binds me, if thou but knowest, O King!

What, O Conchobar, of thee?
To me nought but tears and lamentation hast thou meted out;
This is my life, so long as life shall last;
Thy love, methinks, is as a flame put out."

From the Poem-Book of the Gael

Translations from Irish Gaelic Poetry into English Prose and Verse