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"Why do you tremble thus from feet to crown?" 
Aleel, the swineherd, wept and cast him down  Upon the web-heaped floor, and thus his word:  "With him is one sweet-throated like a bird." 
"Who bade you tell these things?" and then she cried  To those about, "Beat him with thongs of hide  "And drive him from the door." 
And thus it was:  And where her son, Finmole, on the smooth grass  Was driving cattle, came she with swift feet,  And called out to him, "Son, it is not meet  "That you stay idling here with flocks and herds." 
"I have long waited, mother, for those words:  "But wherefore now?" 
"There is a man to die;  "You have the heaviest arm under the sky." 
"My father dwells among the sea-worn bands,  "And breaks the ridge of battle with his hands."  "Nay, you are taller than Cuchulain, son." 
"He is the mightiest man in ship or dun." 
"Nay, he is old and sad with many wars,  "And weary of the crash of battle cars." 
"I only ask what way my journey lies,  "For God, who made you bitter, made you wise." 
"The Red Branch kings a tireless banquet keep,  "Where the sun falls into the Western deep.  "Go there, and dwell on the green forest rim;  "But tell alone your name and house to him  "Whose blade compels, and bid them send you one  "Who has a like vow from their triple dun." 
Between the lavish shelter of a wood  And the gray tide, the Red Branch multitude  Feasted, and with them old Cuchulain dwelt,  And his young dear one close beside him knelt,  And gazed upon the wisdom of his eyes,  More mournful than the depth of starry skies,  And pondered on the wonder of his days;  And all around the harp-string told his praise,  And Concobar, the Red Branch king of kings,  With his own fingers touched the brazen strings.  At last Cuchulain spake, "A young man strays  "Driving the deer along the woody ways.  "I often hear him singing to and fro,  "I often hear the sweet sound of his bow,  "Seek out what man he is." 
One went and came.  "He bade me let all know he gives his name  "At the sword point, and bade me bring him one  "Who had a like vow from our triple dun." 
"I only of the Red Branch hosted now,"  Cuchulain cried, "have made and keep that vow." 
After short fighting in the leafy shade,  He spake to the young man, "Is there no maid  "Who loves you, no white arms to wrap you round,  "Or do you long for the dim sleepy ground,  "That you come here to meet this ancient sword?" 
"The dooms of men are in God's hidden hoard." 
"Your head a while seemed like a woman's head  "That I loved once." 
Again the fighting sped,  But now the war rage in Cuchulain woke,  And through the other's shield his long blade broke,  And pierced him. 
"Speak before your breath is done."  "I am Finmole, mighty Cuchulain's son." 
"I put you from your pain. I can no more." 
While day its burden on to evening bore,  With head bowed on his knees Cuchulain stayed;  Then Concobar sent that sweet-throated maid,  And she, to win him, his gray hair caressed;  In vain her arms, in vain her soft white breast.  Then Concobar, the subtlest of all men,  Ranking his Druids round him ten by ten,  Spake thus, "Cuchulain will dwell there and brood,  "For three days more in dreadful quietude,  "And then arise, and raving slay us all.  "Go, cast on him delusions magical,  "That he might fight the waves of the loud sea."  And ten by ten under a quicken tree,  The Druids chaunted, swaying in their hands  Tall wands of alder, and white quicken wands. 
In three days' time, Cuchulain with a moan  Stood up, and came to the long sands alone:  For four days warred he with the bitter tide;  And the waves flowed above him, and he died.

THE ROSE OF THE WORLD

Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream? For these red lips, with all their mournful pride, Mournful that no new wonder may betide, Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam, And Usna's children died.
We and the labouring world are passing by: Amid men's souls, that waver and give place, Like the pale waters in their wintry race, Under the passing stars, foam of the sky, Lives on this lonely face.
Bow down, archangels, in your dim abode: Before you were, or any hearts to beat, Weary and kind one lingered by His seat; He made the world to be a grassy road Before her wandering feet.

THE ROSE OF PEACE

If Michael, leader of God's host  When Heaven and Hell are met,  Looked down on you from Heaven's door-post  He would his deeds forget. 
Brooding no more upon God's wars  In his Divine homestead,  He would go weave out of the stars  A chaplet for your head. 
And all folk seeing him bow down,  And white stars tell your praise,  Would come at last to God's great town,  Led on by gentle ways; 
And God would bid His warfare cease.  Saying all things were well;  And softly make a rosy peace,  A peace of Heaven with Hell.

THE ROSE OF BATTLE

Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World!  The tall thought-woven sails, that flap unfurled  Above the tide of hours, trouble the air,  And God's bell buoyed to be the water's care;  While hushed from fear, or loud with hope, a band  With blown, spray-dabbled hair gather at hand.  Turn if you may from battles never done I call, as they go by me one by one,  Danger no refuge holds; and war no peace,  For him who hears love sing and never cease,  Beside her clean-swept hearth, her quiet shade:  But gather all for whom no love hath made  A woven silence, or but came to cast  A song into the air, and singing past  To smile on the pale dawn; and gather you  Who have sought more than is in rain or dew  Or in the sun and moon, or on the earth,  Or sighs amid the wandering, starry mirth,  Or comes in laughter from the sea's sad lips  And wage God's battles in the long gray ships.  The sad, the lonely, the insatiable,  To these Old Night shall all her mystery tell;  God's bell has claimed them by the little cry  Of their sad hearts, that may not live nor die.