A Dialogue
The end is come; upon this narrow rockTo-morrow I must die;Wife of the ruddy cheeks and hair of flame,Leave me to-night and fly.
Seek out the camp of Fionn and of his menUpon the westward side;Take there, in time to come, another mate.Here I abide.
Which way, O Goll, is my way, and thou perished?Alas! few friends have I!Small praise that woman hath whose lord is goneAnd no protector nigh!
What man should I wed? I whom great Goll cherishedAnd made his wife?Where in the East or West should one be soughtTo mend my broken life?
Shall I take Oísin, son of Fionn the Wise?Or Carroll of the blood-stained hand?Shall I make Angus, son of Hugh, my prize?Or swift-foot Corr, chief of the fighting-band?
I am as good as they; aye, good and better,Daughter of Conall, Monarch of the West,Fostered was I with Conn the Hundred-Fighter,Best among all the best.
Thee out of all I loved, thee my first master,Gentlest and bravest thou;Seven years we lived and loved, through calm and tumult,And shall I leave thee now?
From that night till to-night I found thee neverOf harsh and churlish mind;And here I vow, no other man shall touch me,Kind or unkind.
Here on this narrow crag, foodless and sleepless,Thou takest thy last stand;A hundred heroes, Goll, lie rotting round thee,Slain by thy dauntless hand.
In the wide ocean near us, life is teeming;Yet on this barren rockI sink from hunger, and the wild briny watersMy thirst-pangs mock.
Fierce is our hunger, fierce are the five battalionsSent here to conquer thee;But fiercer yet the drought that steals my beautyMidst this surrounding sea.
Though all my dear loved brothers by one caitiffLay slaughtered in my sight,That man I'd call my friend, yea, I would love him,Could my thirst ease to-night.
Eat, Son of Morna, batten on these dead bodies,This is my last behest;Feast well, gaunt Goll, then quench thy awful cravingHere at my breast.
Nought is there more to fear, nought to be hoped for,Of life and all bereftHigh on this crag, abandoned and forsaken,Nor hope nor shame is left.
King Conall's daughter, cease this mad entreaty,Cease thou, I pray;Never have I a woman's counsel asked for,Far less to-day.
Oh! pitiful how this thing hath befallen,Little red mouth!Lips that of old made speech and happy music,Now dry and harsh with drouth.
Ever I feared this end; my haunting terrorBy wave and landWas to be caught by Fionn and his battalionsOn some stark, foodless strand.
Depart not yet; upon this barren islet,Beneath this brazen sky,Sweet lips and gentle heart, we sit togetherUntil we die.
Words in this poem 19
- goll n.
- A hand, paw, or claw. Sir P. Sidney. B. Jonson. [Etymol. uncertain.]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- carroll n.
- A small closet or inclosure built against a window on the inner side, to sit in for study. The word was used as late as the 16th century. [OF. carole a sort of circular space, or carol.]
- corr n.
- A Hebrew measure of capacity; a homer. [Heb. k.]
- unkind a.
- Having no race or kindred; childless. [See Kin kindred.]
- crag n.
- The neck or throat [A form of craw: cf. D. kraag neck, collar, G. kragen. See Craw.]
- foodless a.
- Without food; barren. Sandys.
- sleepless a.
- Having no sleep; wakeful.
- dauntless a.
- Incapable of being daunted; undaunted; bold; fearless; intrepid.
- teeming a.
- Prolific; productive.
- briny a.
- Of or pertaining to brine, or to the sea; partaking of the nature of brine; salt; as, a briny taste; the briny flood. [From Brine.]
- caitiff a.
- Captive; wretched; unfortunate. [OE. caitif, cheitif, captive, miserable, OF. caitif, chaitif, captive, mean, wretched, F. chétif, fr. L. captivus captive, fr. capere to take, akin to E. heave.]
- batten v. t.
- To make fat by plenteous feeding; to fatten. [See Batful.]
- behest v. t.
- To vow. Paston.
- gaunt a.
- Attenuated, as with fasting or suffering; lean; meager; pinched and grim. [Cf. Norw. gand a thin pointed stick, a tall and thin man, and W. gwan weak.]
- entreaty n.
- Treatment; reception; entertainment. B. Jonson.
- stark adv.
- Wholly; entirely; absolutely; quite; as, stark mind.
- depart v. i.
- To part; to divide; to separate. [OE. departen to divide, part, depart, F. départir to divide, distribute, se départir to separate one's self, depart; pref. dé- (L. de) + partir to part, depart,]
- islet n.
- A little island. [OF. islette (cf. F. îlot), dim. of isle.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
A Dialogue is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poem-Book of the Gael Translations from Irish Gaelic Poetry into English Prose and Verse, Project Gutenberg ebook #46917; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Eleanor Hull, A Dialogue, in The Poem-Book of the Gael (1912), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #46917, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hull-gael/a-dialogue.html, id L11679.
Form and metre
A Dialogue is 72 lines in 18 stanzas of 4 lines each. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic tetrameter. 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.2 syllables. 21 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 24% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 -A-A rock · dieA · flame · flyA
- 2 -A-A men · sideA · mate · abideA
- 3 -A-A perished · iA · gone · nighA
- 4 -A-A cherished · wifeA · sought · lifeA
- 5 ABAB wiseA · handB · prizeA · bandB
- 6 -A-A better · westA · fighter · bestA
- 7 -A-A master · thouA · tumult · nowA
- 8 -A-A never · mindA · me · unkindA
- 9 -A-A sleepless · standA · thee · handA
- 10 -A-A teeming · rockA · waters · mockA
- 11 -A-A battalions · theeA · beauty · seaA
- 12 -A-A caitiff · sightA · him · nightA
- 13 -A-A bodies · behestA · craving · breastA
- 14 -A-A for · bereftA · forsaken · leftA
- 15 -A-A entreaty · prayA · for · dayA
- 16 -A-A befallen · mouthA · music · drouthA
- 17 -A-A terror · landA · battalions · strandA
- 18 -A-A islet · skyA · together · dieA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| The end is come; upon this narrow rock | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| To-morrow I must die; | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Wife of the ruddy cheeks and hair of flame, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Leave me to-night and fly. | 6 | ······ |
| Seek out the camp of Fionn and of his men | 10 | ·········· |
| Upon the westward side; | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Take there, in time to come, another mate. | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| Here I abide. | 4 | ··˘/ |
| Which way, O Goll, is my way, and thou perished? | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| Alas! few friends have I! | 6 | ˘/···· |
| Small praise that woman hath whose lord is gone | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| And no protector nigh! | 6 | ··˘/˘· |
| What man should I wed? I whom great Goll cherished | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| And made his wife? | 4 | ···· |
| Where in the East or West should one be sought | 10 | ·········· |
| To mend my broken life? | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Shall I take Oísin, son of Fionn the Wise? | 10 | ·········· |
| Or Carroll of the blood-stained hand? | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Shall I make Angus, son of Hugh, my prize? | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Or swift-foot Corr, chief of the fighting-band? | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| I am as good as they; aye, good and better, | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| Daughter of Conall, Monarch of the West, | 10 | /˘·/˘/···· |
| Fostered was I with Conn the Hundred-Fighter, | 10 | /˘·····/˘/ |
| Best among all the best. | 6 | ······ |
| Thee out of all I loved, thee my first master, | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| Gentlest and bravest thou; | 7 | /˘˘·/˘· |
| Seven years we lived and loved, through calm and tumult, | 11 | /········/˘ |
| And shall I leave thee now? | 6 | ······ |
| From that night till to-night I found thee never | 10 | ·········/ |
| Of harsh and churlish mind; | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And here I vow, no other man shall touch me, | 11 | ·····/˘···· |
| Kind or unkind. | 4 | ··˘/ |
| Here on this narrow crag, foodless and sleepless, | 11 | ···/˘·/˘·/˘ |
| Thou takest thy last stand; | 6 | ······ |
| A hundred heroes, Goll, lie rotting round thee, | 11 | ·/˘/˘··/˘·· |
| Slain by thy dauntless hand. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| In the wide ocean near us, life is teeming; | 10 | ···/····/˘ |
| Yet on this barren rock | 6 | ···/˘· |
| I sink from hunger, and the wild briny waters | 12 | ···/˘···/˘/˘ |
| My thirst-pangs mock. | 4 | ···· |
| Fierce is our hunger, fierce are the five battalions | 12 | ··//˘····˘/˘ |
| Sent here to conquer thee; | 6 | ···/˘· |
| But fiercer yet the drought that steals my beauty | 11 | ·/˘······/˘ |
| Midst this surrounding sea. | 6 | ··˘/˘· |
| Though all my dear loved brothers by one caitiff | 11 | ·····/˘··/˘ |
| Lay slaughtered in my sight, | 7 | ·/˘˘··· |
| That man I'd call my friend, yea, I would love him, | 11 | ··········· |
| Could my thirst ease to-night. | 6 | ······ |
| Eat, Son of Morna, batten on these dead bodies, | 12 | ···/˘/˘···/˘ |
| This is my last behest; | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Feast well, gaunt Goll, then quench thy awful craving | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| Here at my breast. | 4 | ···· |
| Nought is there more to fear, nought to be hoped for, | 11 | ··········· |
| Of life and all bereft | 6 | ····˘/ |
| High on this crag, abandoned and forsaken, | 11 | ····˘/˘·˘/˘ |
| Nor hope nor shame is left. | 6 | ······ |
| King Conall's daughter, cease this mad entreaty, | 11 | ·/˘/˘···˘/˘ |
| Cease thou, I pray; | 4 | ···· |
| Never have I a woman's counsel asked for, | 10 | /···/˘/˘·· |
| Far less to-day. | 4 | ···· |
| Oh! pitiful how this thing hath befallen, | 10 | ·/˘····˘/˘ |
| Little red mouth! | 4 | /˘·· |
| Lips that of old made speech and happy music, | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| Now dry and harsh with drouth. | 6 | ······ |
| Ever I feared this end; my haunting terror | 10 | /·····/˘/˘ |
| By wave and land | 4 | ···· |
| Was to be caught by Fionn and his battalions | 11 | ········˘/˘ |
| On some stark, foodless strand. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Depart not yet; upon this barren islet, | 11 | ˘/·····/˘/˘ |
| Beneath this brazen sky, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Sweet lips and gentle heart, we sit together | 11 | ···/˘···˘/˘ |
| Until we die. | 4 | ···· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.