The Great Lamentation of Deirdre for the Sons of Usna

Splendid in your eyes may be the impetuous championsWho resort to Emain after a foray;More brilliant yet was the returnOf 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 foundDrunk 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 NoisiUnbound 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 timeMay be the sound of pipes and horns,Here to-day I make my confession,I have heard music sweeter far!

Here with Conchobar the kingSweet 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 themThe 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 upTo 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 nightMy 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 menI find no peace, nor pleasure, nor repose.

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

"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-waveThe 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."