Authors: Robert Graves
Tags: #Non-Fiction, #Mythology, #Literature, #20th Century, #Britain, #Literary Studies, #Amazon.com, #Mysticism, #Retail
Suibne had a friend, Loingseachan, who constantly went in pursuit, trying to catch and cure him. Loingseachan succeeded in this on three occasions, but Suibne always relapsed: a fury known as ‘the Hag of the Mill’, would soon tempt him to renew his frantic leaps. During a lucid interval after seven years of madness, Suibne visited Éorann, who was being forced to marry his successor the new king – and one most moving dramatic poem records their conversation:
SUIBNE
‘At
ease
you
are,
bright
Éorann,Bound
bedward
to
your
lover;It is not so with Suibne here –
Long has he wandered footloose
.
‘Lightly
once,
great
Éorann,You
whispered
words
that
pleased
me.“I
could
not
live
,” you
said,
“were
IParted
one
day
from
Suibne.
”
‘Now
it
is
clear
and
daylight
clear,How
small
your
care
for
Suibne;You
lie
warm
on
a
good
down
bed,He
starves
for
cold
till
sunrise.
’
ÉORANN
‘Welcome,
my
guileless
madman,Dearest
of
humankind!Though
soft
I
lie,
my
body
wastesSince
the
day
of
your
downfall.
’
SUIBNE
‘More
welcome
than
I,
that
princeWho
escorts
you
to
the
banquet.He
is
your
chosen
gallant;Your
old
love
you
neglect.
’
ÉORANN
Though
a
prince
may
now
escort
meTo
the
carefree
banquet-hall,I
had
liefer
sleep
in
a
tree
’
s
cramped
boleWith
you,
Suibne,
my
husband.
‘Could
I
choose
from
all
the
warriorsOf
Ireland
and
of
Scotland,I
had
liefer
live,
blameless,
with
youOn
watercress
and
water.
’
SUIBNE
‘No
path
for
his
belovédIs
Suibne
’
s
track
of
care;Cold
he
lies
at
Ard
Abhla,His
lodgings
cold
are
many.
‘Far
better
to
feel
affectionFor
the
prince
whose
bride
you
are,Than
for
this
madman
all
uncouth,Famished
and
stark-naked.
’
ÉORANN
‘I
grieve
for
you,
toiling
madman,So
filthy
and
downcast;I
grieve
that
your
skin
is
weather
worn,Torn
by
spines
and
brambles…
’
‘O
that
we
were
together,And
my
body
feathered
too;In
light
and
darkness
would
I
wanderWith
you,
for
evermore!
’
SUIBNE
‘One
night
I
spent
in
cheerful
Mourne,One
night
in
Bann
’s
sweet
estuary.I
have
roved
this
land
from
end
to
end….
’
The tale continues:
‘Hardly had Suibne spoken these words when the army came marching into the camp from all directions. He sped away in wild flight, as he had often done before; and presently, when he had perched on a high, ivy-clad branch, the Hag of the Mill settled close beside him. Suibne then made this poem, describing the trees and
herbs of Ireland:
Bushy
oak,
leafy
oak,You
tower
above
all
trees.O
hazel,
little
branching
one,Coffer
for
sweet
nuts!You
are
not
cruel,
O
alder.Delightfully
you
gleam,You
neither
rend
nor
prickleIn
the
gap
you
occupy.Blackthorn,
little
thorny
one,Dark
provider
of
sloes.Watercress,
little
green-topped
one,From
the
stream
where
blackbirds
drink.O
apple-tree,
true
to
your
kind,You
are
much
shaken
by
men;O
rowan,
cluster-berried
one,Beautiful
is
your
blossom!O
briar,
arching
over,You
never
play
me
fair;Ever
again
you
tear
me,Drinking
your
fill
of
blood.Yew-tree,
yew-tree,
true
to
your
kind,In
churchyards
you
are
found;O
ivy,
growing
ivy-like,You
are
found
in
the
dark
wood.O
holly,
tree
of
shelter,Bulwark
against
the
winds;O
ash-tree,
very
baleful
one,Haft
for
the
warrior’s
spear.O
birch-tree,
smooth
and
blessed,Melodious
and
proud,Delightful
every
tangled
branchAt
the
top
of
your
crown….
Yet misery piled upon misery, until one day, when Suibne was about to pluck watercress from a stream at Ros Cornain, the wife of the monastery bailiff chased him away and plucked it all for herself, which sent him into utter despair:
Gloomy
is
this
life,In
lack
of
a
soft
bed,To
know
the
numbing
frost,And
rough
wind-driven
snow.Cold
wind,
icy
wind,Faint
shadow
of
a
feeble
sun,Shelter
of
a
single
treeOn
the
top
of
a flat
hill.Enduring
the
rain-storm,Stepping
along
deer-paths,Slouching
through
greenswardOn
a
day
of
grey
frost.A
belling
of
stagsThat
echoes
through
the
wood,A
climb
to
the
deer-pass,The
roar
of
spumy
seas….Stretched
on
a
watery
bedBy
the
banks
of
Loch
Erne,I
consider
early
risingWhen
the
day
shall
dawn.