MAEVE the great queen was pacing to and fro,
The parted lips replied, "I seek your help,
For there is no high story about queens
With still and stony limbs and open eyes.
Over the White-Horned Bull and the Brown Bull.
In comfortable sleep; all living slept
And when Id write it out anew, the words,
To Maeve and to Maeves household, owing all
But with the burning, live, unshaken voice
At need, and made her beautiful and fierce,
Till it died out where an old thorn-tree stood.
What matters were afoot among the Sidhe,
It was before the time of the great war
And all that night, and all through the next day
Had troubled his sleep. But all he had to say
Where the tired horse-boys lay upon the rushes,
With shouting and the clang of unhooked arms.
At middle night great cats with silver claws,
Bodies of shadow and blind eyes like pearls,
She could have called over the rim of the world
To that small chamber by the outer gate.
Had come as in the old times to counsel her,
Have I not bid you tell of that great queen
She told them of the many-changing ones;
And not with his own voice or a mans voice,
Then Maeve: "O Aengus, Master of all lovers,
He had fallen asleep, and, though he had dreamed
Flickering with ash and hazel, but half showed
The porter slept, although he sat upright
Lifted the curtain of her sleeping-room,
In any ancient book but tells of you;
Friend of these many years, you too had stood
"How may a mortal whose life gutters out
They had vanished,
With bodies made out of soft fire. The one,
Worth knitting to a measure of sweet sound?
A latticed window. His glance went up at time
A murmur of soft words and meeting lips.
That no god troubled now, and, wondering
Said, "Aengus and his sweetheart give their thanks
Though now in her old age, in her young age
And wondering who of the many-changing Sidhe
Cried from the porters lodge, and with long clamour
With quaking joints and terror-stricken faces,
But the horse-boys slept on, as though some power
But Maeve, and not with a slow feeble foot,
Came to the threshold of the painted house
Shook the ale-horns and shields upon their hooks;
Broke from his parted lips and broke again,
Between the walls covered with beaten bronze,
Where her grandchildren slept, and cried aloud,
Suddenly, and ran at them and harried them.
As though one listened there, and his voice sank
Had paced from door to fire and fire to door.
Till Maeve called out, "These are but common men.
Outrun the measure.
Or on the benches underneath the walls,
And the fool heart of the counting-house fears all
And I would have your help in my great need,
nothing,
A king of the Great Plain would speak with you.
"I obey your will
As in the old days when they would come and go
But that great queen, who more than half the night
That happier breath had moved, her husband turned
Casts up a Show and the winds answer it
With speedy feet and a most thankful heart:
To some stringed instrument none there had seen,
Caer, his blue-eyed daughter that I love.
And of that famous Fergus, Nessas husband,
O unquiet heart,
He replied,
Face downward, tossing in a troubled sleep;
Or fell into unhappiness, Ive said,
Maeve waited, and when that ear-piercing noise
Was that, the air being heavy and the dogs
Who of the wandering many-changing ones
With the first kings of many-pillared Cruachan.
But our of the dark air over her head there came
For you have been, O Aengus of the birds,
In her high house at Cruachan; the long hearth,
The Maines children have not dropped their spades
She saw her husband Ailell sleeping there,
Had filled the house with Druid heaviness;
Maeve walked through that great hall, and with a sigh
When night was at its deepest, a wild goose
About my threshold to counsel and to help?
To many thousand eyes, and to her own
And when Ive heard how they grew old and died,
She had been beautiful in that old way
Nor the cold North has troubled?
He said, "High Queen of Cruachan and Magh Ai,
Came up out of the hole, and red-eared hounds
She turned away; he turned again to sleep
A certain poet in outlandish clothes
O when will you grow weary?
Until two lovers came out of the air
For I am Aengus, and I am crossed in love.
And with a groan, as if the mortal breath
Maeve walked, yet with slow footfall, being old,
The Old Age Of Queen Maeve
Suddenly Ailell spoke out of his sleep,
Gathered a crowd in some Byzantine lane,
Of the far-wandering shadows has come to me,
With equal courage in that whirling rout;
Help them that wander with hand clasping hand,
The children of the Maines out of sleep,
With holy shadows. Her high heart was glad,
Why do you praise another, praising her,
Our giver of good counsel and good luck.
We shadows, while they uproot his earthy housc,
Who stood amid a silence by the thorn
As if there were no tale but your own tale
"She will grow old and die, and she has wept!
For all their beautys like a hollow dream,
But Soft beauty and indolent desire.
And shook him wide awake, and bid him say
"I am from those rivers and I bid you call
Might be accomplished, Bunching the curtain up
And shed had lucky eyes and high heart,
In owing them the bride-bed that gives peace.
And wisdom that caught fire like the dried flax,
Fashioned to be the mother of strong children;
And thought of days when hed had a straight body,
To middle night, they dug into the hill.
I helped your fathers when they built these walls,
Their haughty images that cannot wither,
Mirrored in streams that neither hail nor rain
Because Earth, crazy for its broken power,
Half crazy with the thought, She too has wept!
Have all that greatness, and not hers alone,
And set them digging under Buals hill.
Thats all but gone; for the proud heart is gone,
With long white bodies came out of the air
She followed with light footfall in the midst,
About whose face birds wagged their fiery wings,
Whatever womans lover had hit her fancy,
A thousand years ago you held high ralk
Id tell of that great queen
One that the generations had long waited
Of those that, it may be, can never age.
Talked1 of his country and its people, sang
For you, although youve not her wandering heart,
Queen of high Cruachan.
And when the uproar ran along the grass
Sudden and laughing.
The Maines" children dropped their spades, and stood
Who has been buried some two thousand years?
That work too difficult for mortal hands
Could but awaken sadly upon lips
Or let its meaning mix into the strings.
Until the pillared dark began to stir
And with glad voice Maeve answered him, "What king
Who had been the lover of her middle life.
He could remember when he had had fine dreams.
She laid a hand on either of his shoulders,
A wall behind his back, over his head
Will overthrow his shadows and carry off
More still than they had been for a good month,
And yet had been great-bodied and great-limbed,
Remembering that she too had seemed divine
