Neaill ghubh a Dheirdre.
"The Lamentation of Deirdre for the Sons of Usnach."
   This is, perhaps, the oldest piece in the collection ; for the story of the Death of the Sons of Usnach, in which the lament occurs, ranks in antiquity with that of the Children of Lir, and refers to a period considerably anterior to the Ossianic era. It is hard to say in what particular part of the story the interest lies, which has taken so strong a hold on the imaginations of the people. It would appear, however, to consist mainly in its frequent examples of magnanimity and fortitude, and in the high idea which it gives us of ancient honour. The story, of which it is proposed to give a brief abstract, opens with the birth of the heroine, who was daughter of Felimy, the son of Dall, rhymer to Conor Mac Nessa, King of Ulster. The Druid Cathbad, who was present at her birth, gave her the name of Deirdre, and at the same time prophesied her future misfortunes in stanzas, which have been thus rendered :

"Child of sorrow, sin, and shame, Deirdre be thy dreaded name ! Child of doom, thy fatal charms Soon shall work us deadly harms.

Long shall Ulster mourn the night Gave thine eyes their blasting light ; Long shall Usnach rue the day Shew'd his sons their fatal ray !"

Accordingly, notwithstanding the precautions of King Conor, who, desiring to educate her for his future queen, had her brought up in the strictest seclusion, she conceives a passion for Naisi, the son of Usnach. Their first interview is thus described in a paraphrase of the original Irish, given in the Hibernian Nights' Entertainments, (Dublin University Magazine, December, 1834.) "Now, on a certain day, Naisi was sitting in the midst of the plain of Eman, (Emania, near Armagh,) playing on a harp. Sweet, in truth, was the music of the sons of Usnach. The cattle, listening to it, milked ever two-thirds more than was their wont ; and all pain and sorrow failed not to depart from whatsoever man or woman heard the strains of that melody. Great, also, was their prowess ; when each set his back to the other, all Conor's province had been unable to overcome them. They were fleet as hounds in the chase ; they slew deer with their speed. Now, then, as Naisi sat singing on the plain of Eman, he perceived a maiden approaching him. She held down her head as she came near him, and would have passed in silence. ‘Gentle is the damsel who passeth by,’ said Naisi. Then the maiden, looking up, replied, ‘Damsels may well be gentle where there are no youths.’ Then Naisi knew it was Deirdre, and great dread fell upon it. ‘The king of the province is betrothed to thee, oh damsel,’ he said. ‘I love him not,’ she replied ; ‘he is an aged man, I would rather love a youth like thee.’ ‘Say not so, oh damsel,’ said Naisi ; ‘the king is a better spouse than the king's servant.’ ‘Thou sayest so,’ said Deirdre, ‘that thou mayest avoid me.’ Then plucking a rose from a briar, she flung it towards him, and said, ‘Now art thou ever disgraced, if thou rejectest me.’ ‘Depart from me, I beseech thee, damsel,’ said Naisi. ‘If thou dost not take me to be thy wife,’ said Deirdre, ‘thou art dishonoured before all the men of thy country, after what I have done.’ Then Naisi said no more ; and Deirdre took the harp, and sat beside him playing sweetly. But the sons of Usnach, rushing forth, came running to the spot where Naisi sat, and Deirdre with him. ‘Alas !’ they cried, ‘what hast thou done, oh brother ? Is not this damsel fated to ruin Ulster ?’ ‘I am disgraced before the men of Erin for ever’, said Naisi, ‘if I take her not after that which she hath done.’ ‘Evil will come of it,’ said the brothers. ‘I care not,’ said Naisi, ‘I had rather be in misfortune than in dishonour ; we will fly with her to another country.’ * * * So that night they departed, taking with them three times fifty men of might, and three times fifty women, and three times fifty greyhounds, and three times fifty attendants ; and Naisi took Deirdre to be his wife."
  After wandering through various parts of Ireland, "from Easroe to Ben Edar, and from Dundelgan to Almhuin," the fugitives at length took shelter in Scotland, where they found an asylum on the banks of Loch Etive. The loss of three warriors of such repute soon began to be felt by the nobles of Ulster, who found themselves no longer able to make head with their accustomed success against the southern provinces. They, therefore, urged Conor to abandon his resentment, and recall the fugitives. Conor, with no other intention than that of re-possessing himself of Deirdre, feigned compliance. But to induce Clan Usnach (so the fugitives were called) to trust themselves again in the hands of him whom their leader had so outraged, it was necessary that the message of pardon should be borne by one on whose warranty of safe conduct the most implicit reliance could be reposed. After sounding some of his chief nobles who were of sufficient authority to undertake the mission, among the rest Cuchullin, and finding that any attempt to tamper with them would be unavailing, Conor fixes on Fergus, the son of Roy, as a more likely instrument, and commits the embassy to him. But though he does not so much fear the consequences of compromising the safe conduct of Fergus, as of Cuchullin, or the others, he yet does not venture openly to enlist him in the meditated treachery, but proceeds by a stratagem, which in these days may appear somewhat far-fetched, yet probably was not inconsistent with the manners of that time. Fergus was of the order of the Red Branch, and the brethren of the Red Branch were under vow not to refuse hospitality at one another's hands. Conor, therefore, arranged with Barach, one of his minions, and a brother of the order, to intercept Fergus on his return, by the tender of a three days' banquet, well knowing that the Clan Usnach must in that case proceed to Emania without the presence of their protector. Meanwhile, Fergus arriving in the harbour of Loch Etive, where dwelt Clan Usnach in green hunting booths along the shore, "sends forth the loud cry of a mighty man of chase." Then follows a characteristic passage. Deirdre and Naisi sat together in their tent, and Conor's polished chess-board between them. And Naisi hearing the cry, said, ‘I hear the call of a man of Erin.’ ‘That was not the call of a man of Erin,’ replied Deirdre, ‘but the call of a man of Alba.’ Then again Fergus shouted a second time. ‘Surely that was the call of a man of Erin,’ said Naisi. ‘Surely no,’ said Deirdre, ‘let us play on.’ Then again Fergus shouted a third time, and Naisi knew that it was the cry of Fergus, and he said, ‘If the son of Roy be in existence, I hear his hunting shout from the Loch ; go forth Ardan, my brother, and give our kinsman welcome.’ ‘Alas,’ cried Deirdre, ‘I knew the call of Fergus from the first !’ For she has a prophetic dread that foul play is intended them, and this feeling never subsides in her breast from that hour till the catastrophe. Quite different are the feelings of Naisi ; he reposes the most unlimited confidence in the safe conduct vouched for by his brother in arms, and, in spite of the remonstrances of Deirdre, embarks with all his retainers for Ireland. Deirdre, on leaving the only secure or happy home she ever expects to enjoy, sings a pathetic farewell, the words of which vary considerably in different copies. It is thus versified in the paper above alluded to :

"Farewell to fair Alba, high house of the sun ; Farewell to the mountain, the cliff, and the dun ; Dun Sweeny, adieu ! for my love cannot stay, And tarry I must not, when love cries away.	Glenurchy ! Glenurchy ! where loudly and long My love used to wake up the woods with his song, While the son of the rock (a), from the depths of the dell, Laughed sweetly in answer ; Glenurchy, farewell !
Glen Vashan ! Glen Vashan ! where roebucks run free, Where my love used to feast on the red deer with me, Where, rocked on thy waters, while stormy winds blew, My love used to slumber ; Glen Vashan, adieu !	Glen Etive ! Glen Etive ! where dappled does roam, Where I leave the green sheeling, I first call'd a home, Where with me my true love delighted to dwell, The sun made his mansion ; (b) Glen Etive, farewell !
Glendaro ! Glendaro ! where birchen boughs weep Honey dew at high noon to the nightingale's sleep ; Where my love used to lead me to hear the cuckoo, 'Mong the high hazel bushes ; Glendaro, adieu !	Farewell to Inch Draynagh ; adieu to the roar Of blue billows bursting in light on the shore ; Dun Fiagh, farewell ! for my love cannot stay, And tarry I must not when love cries, ‘away.’"

(a) "Son of the rock." The echo.
(b) She calls Glen Etive Bally-Graine, or " Suntown."

  Barach meets them on their landing, and detains Fergus, who reluctantly assigns his charge to his two sons, Red Buini Borb and Illan Finn, to conduct them in safety to their journey's end. Deirdre's fears are more and more excited ; she has dreams and visions of disasters : she urges Naisi to go to Dunseverick or to Dundalgan, (Dundalk, the residence of Cuchullin) and there await the coming up of Fergus. Naisi is inflexible. It would injure the honour of his companion in arms to admit any apprehension of danger while under his pledge of safe conduct. The omens multiply ; Deirdre's sense of danger becomes more and more acute. Still Naisi's reply is, ‘I fear not, let us proceed.’ At length they reach Emania, and are assigned the House of the Red Branch for their lodging. Calm, and to all appearance unconscious of any cause for apprehension, Naisi takes his place at the chess-table, and Deirdre, full of fears, sits opposite. Meanwhile the king, knowing that Deirdre was again within his reach, could not rest at the banquet, but sends spies to bring him word "if her beauty yet lived upon her." The first messenger, friendly to Clan Usnach, reports that she is "quite bereft of her own aspect, and is lovely and desirable no longer." This allays Conor's passion for a time, but growing heated with wine, he shortly after sends another messenger, who brings back the intelligence, that not only is Deirdre "the fairest woman on the ridge of the world," but that he himself has been wounded by Naisi, who had resented his gazing in at the window of the Red Branch, by flinging a chess-man at his head, and dashing out one of his eyes. (Chess-men were formerly made of a much larger size than in our time. The Archæologia contains a curious account of a massive set of chess-men, made of the tooth of the sea horse.) This was all that Conor wanted ; he starts up in pretended indignation at the violence done his servant, calls his body-guard, and attacks the Red Branch. The defence now devolves on the sons of Fergus. Clan Usnach scorn to evince alarm, or interfere in any way with the duties of their protectors. But Deirdre cannot conceal her consciousness that they are betrayed, ‘Ah me,’ she cries, hearing the soldiery of Conor at the gates, ‘I knew that Fergus was a traitor.’ ‘If Fergus hath betrayed you,’ replied Red Buini Borb, ‘yet will not I betray you.’ And he issues out, and slays his "thrice fifty men of might." But when Conor offers him Slieve Fuadh for a bribe, he holds back his hand from the slaughter, and goes his way. Then cries Deirdre, ‘Traitor father, traitor son.’ ‘No,’ replies Illan Finn, ‘though Red Buini Borb be a traitor, yet will not I be a traitor ; while liveth this small straight sword in my hand, I will not forsake Clan Usnach!’ Then Illan Finn, encountering Fiara, the son of Conor, armed with Ocean, Flight, and Victory, the royal shield, spear, and sword ; they fight "a fair fight, stout and manly, bitter and bloody, savage and hot, and vehement and terrible, until the waves round the blue rim of Ocean roared, for it was the nature of Conor's shield that it ever resounded as with the noise of stormy waters when he who bore it was in danger." Summoned by which signal, one of King Conor's nobles, coming behind Illan Finn, thrusts him through. "The weakness of death then fell darkly upon Illan, and he threw his arms into the mansion, and called to Naisi to fight manfully, and expired." Clan Usnach at length deign to lay aside their chess-tables, and stand to their arms. Ardan first sallies out, and slays his "three hundred men of might ;" then Ainli, who makes twice that havoc ; and last, Naisi himself : and, "till the sands of the sea, the dewdrops of the meadows, the leaves of the forest, or the stars of heaven be counted, it is not possible to tell the number of heads and hands, and lopped limbs of heroes that then lay bare and red from the hands of Naisi and his brothers on that plain." Then Naisi came again into the Red Branch to Deirdre ; and she encouraged him, and said, ‘We will yet escape : fight manfully, and fear not.’ Then the sons of Usnach made a phalanx of their shields, and spread the links of their joined bucklers round Deirdre, and bounding forth like three eagles, swept down upon the troops of Conor, making sore havoc of his people. Now when Cathbad, the druid, saw that the sons of Usnach were bent on the destruction of Conor himself, he had recourse to his arts of magic ; and he cast an enchantment over them, so that their arms fell from their hands, and they were taken by the men of Ulster, for the spell was like a sea of thick gums about them, and their limbs were clogged in it, that they could not move. The sons of Usnach are then put to death, and Deirdre, standing over the grave, sings their funeral song, which is thus rendered :

"The lions of the hill are gone, And I am left alone - alone ; Dig the grave both wide and deep, For I am sick, and fain would sleep.	Oh ! to hear my true love singing, Sweet as sounds of trumpets' ringing ; Like the sway of ocean swelling Rolled his deep voice round our dwelling.
The falcons of the wood are flown, And I am left alone - alone ; Dig the grave both deep and wide, And let us slumber side by side.	Oh ! to hear the echoes pealing Round our green and fairy sheeling, When the three with soaring chorus Made the skylark silent o'er us !
The dragons of the rock are sleeping, Sleep that wakes not for our weeping ; Dig the grave, and make it ready, Lay me on my true love's body.	Echo now sleep morn and even ; Lark, alone, enchant the heaven ; Ardan's lips are scant of breath, Naisi's tongue is cold in death.
Lay their spears and bucklers bright By the warriors' sides aright ; Many a day the three before me On their linked bucklers bore me.	Stag, exult on glen and mountain ; Salmon, leap from loch to fountain ; Heron, in the free air warm ye, Usnach's sons no more will harm ye.
Lay upon the low grave floor, 'Neath each head, the blue claymore ; Many a time the noble three Reddened these blue blades for me.	Erin's stay, no more ye are Rulers of the ridge of war ; Never more 'twill be your fate To keep the beam of battle straight.
Lay the collars, as is meet, Of their greyhounds at their feet ; Many a time for me have they Brought the tall red deer to bay.	Woe is me ! by fraud and wrong, Traitors false, and tyrants strong, Fell Clan Usnach, bought and sold For Barach's feast and Conor's gold.
In the falcon's jesses throw, Hook and arrow, line and bow ; Never again by stream or plain Shall the gentle woodsmen go.	Woe to Eman, roof and wall ! Woe to Red Branch, hearth and hall ! Tenfold woe and black dishonour To the foul and false Clan Conor.
Sweet companions, were ye ever Harsh to me your sister, never ; Woods and wilds, and misty valleys Were with you as good 's a palace.	Dig the grave both wide and deep, Sick I am, and fain would sleep ! Dig the grave, and make it ready, Lay me on my true love's body."

  So saying, she flung herself into the grave, and expired.
  Such is an outline of this tale, which has possessed an extraordinary charm for the people of Ireland for now better than a thousand years.

Edward Bunting, 1840.