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“We came hither, Laeg and I, to learn the lore of the Sidhe. Why should you not leave me here for a time, Emer? This maiden is of wondrous magical power: she is a princess in her own land, and is as pure and chaste to this hour as you.”

“I see indeed she is more beautiful than I am. That is why you are drawn away. Her face has not grown familiar. Everything that is new or strange you follow. The passing cheeks are ruddier than the pale face which has shared your troubles. What you know is weariness, and you leave it to learn what you do not know. The Ultonians falter while you are absent from duty in battle and council, and I, whom you brought with sweet words when half a child from my home, am left alone. Oh, Cuchullain, beloved, I was once dear to thee, and if today or tomorrow were our first meeting I should be so again.”

A torrent of self-reproach and returning love overwhelmed him. “I swear to you,” he said brokenly, through fast-flowing tears, “you are immortally dear to me, Emer.”

“Then you leave me,” burst forth Fand, rising to her full height, her dark, bright eyes filled with a sudden fire, an image of mystic indignation and shame.

“If indeed,” said Emer softly, “joy and love and beauty are more among the Sidhe than where we dwell in Eri, then it were better for thee to remain.”

“No, he shall not now,” said Fand passionately. “It is I whom he shall leave. I long foresaw this moment, but ran against fate like a child. Go, warrior, Cu; tear this love out of thy heart as I out of mine. Go, Laeg, I will not forget thee. Thou alone hast thought about these things truly. But now–I cannot speak.” She flung herself upon the couch in the dark shadow and hid her face away from them.

The pale phantom wavered and faded away, going to one who awoke from sleep with a happiness she could not understand. Cuchullain and Laeg passed out silently into the night. At the door of the dun a voice they knew not spake:

“So, warrior, you return. It is well. Not yet for thee is the brotherhood of the Sidhe, and thy destiny and Fand’s lie far apart. Thine is not so great but it will be greater, in ages yet to come, in other lands, among other peoples, when the battle fury in thee shall have turned to wisdom and anger to compassion. Nations that lie hidden in the womb of time shall hail thee as friend, deliverer and saviour. Go and forget what has passed. This also thou shalt forget. It will not linger in thy mind; but in thy heart shall remain the memory and it will urge thee to nobler deeds. Farewell, warrior, saviour that is to be!”

As the two went along the moon lit shore mighty forms followed, and there was a waving of awful hands over them to blot out memory.

In the room where Fand lay with mad beating heart tearing itself in remorse, there was one watching with divine pity. Mannanan, the Golden Glory, the Self of the Sun. “Weep not, O shadow; thy days of passion and pain are over.” breathed the Pity in her breast. “Rise up, O Ray, from thy sepulchre of forgetfulness. Spirit come forth to they ancient and immemorial home.” She rose up and stood erect. As the Mantle of Mannanan enfolded her, no human words could tell the love, the exultation, the pathos, the wild passion of surrender, the music of divine and human life interblending. Faintly we echo–like this spake the Shadow and like this the Glory.

The Shadow

Who art thou, O Glory,
In flame from the deep,
Where stars chant their story,
Why trouble my sleep?

I hardly had rested,
My dreams wither now:
Why comest thou crested
And gemmed on they brow?

The Glory

Up, Shadow, and follow
The way I will show;
The blue gleaming hollow
To-night we will know,

And rise mid the vast to
The fountain of days;
From whence we had pass to
The parting of ways.

The Shadow

I know thee, O Glory:
Thine eyes and thy brow
With white fire all hoary
Come back to me now.

Together we wandered
In ages agone;
Our thoughts as we pondered
Were stars at the dawn.

The glory has dwindled,
My azure and gold:
Yet you keep enkindled
The Sun-fire of old.

My footsteps are tied to
The heath and the stone;
My thoughts earth-allied-to–
Ah! leave me alone.

Go back, thou of gladness,
Nor wound me with pain,
Nor spite me with madness,
Nor come nigh again.

The Glory

Why tremble and weep now,
Whom stars once obeyed?
Come forth to the deep now
And be not afraid.

The Dark One is calling,
I know, for his dreams
Around me are falling
In musical streams.

A diamond is burning
In depths of the Lone
Thy spirit returning
May claim for its throne.

In flame-fringed islands
Its sorrows shall cease,
Absorbed in the silence
And quenched in the peace.

Come lay thy poor head on
My breast where it glows
With love ruby-red on
Thy heart for its woes.

My power I surrender:
To thee it is due:
Come forth, for the splendor
Is waiting for you.

–November 15, 1895-March 15, 1896