Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE LEGEND OF FERGUS LEIDESON, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE LEGEND OF FERGUS LEIDESON, by                    
First Line: "one day king fergus, leide luthmar's son"
Last Line: "he smile: he cast his trophy to the bank, / cried, 'I survivor, ulstermen!' and sank"
Subject(s): "legends, Irish;


One day King Fergus, Leide Luthmar's son,
Drove by Loch Rury; and, his journey done,
Slept in his chariot, wearied. While he slept,
A troop of fairies o'er his cushion crept.
And, first, his sharp, dread sword they filched away;
Then bore himself, feet forward, to the bay.
He, with the chill touch, woke; and, at a snatch,
It fortuned him in either hand to catch
A full grown sprite; while, 'twixt his breast and arm,
He pinned a youngling. They, in dire alarm.
Writhed hard and squealed. He held the tighter. Then
"Quarter!" and "Ransom!" cried the little men.
"No quarter," he: "nor go ye hence alive,
Unless ye gift me with the art to dive
Long as I will--to walk at large, and breathe
The seas, the lochs, the river floods beneath."
"We will." He loosed them. Herbs of virtue they
Placed in his ear-holes; or, as others say,
A hood of fairy texture o'er his head,
Much like a cleric's cochal, drew, and said,
"Wear this, and walk the deeps; but well beware
Thou enter nowise in Loch Rury there."
Clad in his cowl, through many deeps he went,
And saw their wonders; but was not content
Unless Loch Rury also to his eyes
Revealed its inner under-mysteries.
Thither he came, and plunged therein; and there
The Muirdris met him. Have you seen a pair
Of blacksmith's bellows open out and close
Alternate 'neath the hand of him that blows?
So swelled it, and so shrunk. The hideous sight
Hung all his visage sideways with affright.
He fled. He gained the bank. "How seems my cheer,
O Mwena?" "Ill!" replied the charioteer.
"But rest thee. Sleep thy wildness will compose."
He slept. Swift Mwena to Emania goes:
"Whom now for king, since Fergus' face awry
By law demeans him of the sovereignty?"
"Hush!" and his sages and physicians wise
In earnest council sit, and this advise:
"He knows not of his plight. To keep him so
As he suspect not that he ought to know,--
For so the mind be straight, and just awards
Wait on the judgment, right-read law regards
No mere distortion of the outward frame
As blemish barring from the kingly name--
And, knew he all the baleful fact you tell,
An inward wrench might warp the mind as well,--
Behooves it therefore all of idle tongue,
Jesters, and women, and the witless young,
Be from his presence kept. And when at morn
He takes his bath, behooves his bondmaid, Dorn,
Muddy the water, lest perchance, he trace
Lost kingship's token on his imaged face."
Three years they kept him so: till on a day,
Dorn with his face-bath ewer had made delay:
And fretted Fergus, petulant and rash,
A blow bestowed her of his horse-whip lash.
Forth burst the woman's anger. "Thou a king!
Thou sit in council! Thou adjudge a thing
In court of law! Thou, who no kingship can,
Since all may see thou art a blemished man!
Thou wry-mouth!" Fergus thereon slew the maid:
And, to Loch Rury's brink in haste conveyed,
Went in at Fertais. For a day and night
Beneath the waves he rested out of sight.
But all the Ultonians on the bank who stood
Saw the loch boil and redden with the blood.
When next at sunrise skies grew also red,
He rose--and in his hand the Muirdris' head--
Gone was the blemish. On his goodly face
Each trait symmetric had resumed its place:
And they who saw him marked in all his mien
A king's composure, ample and serene.
He smiled: he cast his trophy to the bank,
Cried; "I survivor, Ulstermen!" and sank.





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