Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition
The Death of Dermid (Author: Samuel Ferguson)
  1. Finn on the mountain found the mangled man,
    The slain boar by him. "Dermid," said the king,
    "It likes me well at last to see thee thus.
    This only grieves me, that the womankind
    Of Erin are not also looking on:
    Such sight were wholesome for the wanton eyes
    So oft enamour'd of that specious form:
    Beauty to foulness, strength to weakness turn'd."
    "Yet in thy power, if only in thy will,
    Lies it, oh Finn, even yet to heal me."
    "How?"
  2. "Feign not the show of ignorance, nor deem
    I know not of the virtues which thy hand
    Drew from that fairy's half-discover'd hall,
    Who bore her silver tankard from the fount,
    So closely follow'd, that ere yet the door
    Could close upon her steps, one arm was in;
    Wherewith, though seeing nought, yet touching all,

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    Thou grasped'st half the spiritual world;
    Withdrawing a heap'd handful of its gifts,
    Healing, and sight prophetic, and the power
    Divine of poesy : but healing most
    Abides within its hollow : virtue such
    That but so much of water as might wet
    These lips, in that hand brought, would make me whole.
    Finn, from the fountain fetch me in thy palms
    A draught of water, and I yet shall live."
  3. "How at these hands canst thou demand thy life,
    Who took'st my joy of life?"
    "She loved thee not:
    Me she did love and doth; and were she here
    She would so plead with thee, that, for her sake,
    Thou wouldst forgive us both, and bid me live."
  4. "I was a man had spent my prime of years
    In war and council, little bless'd with love;
    Though poesy was mine, and, in my hour,
    The seer's burthen not desirable;
    And now at last had thought to have man's share
    Of marriage blessings; and the King supreme,
    Cormac, had pledged his only daughter mine;
    When thou, with those pernicious beauty-gifts,
    The flashing white tusk there hath somewhat spoil'd,
    Didst win her to desert her father's house,
    And roam the wilds with thee."
  5. "It was herself,
    Grania, the Princess, put me in the bonds

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    Of holy chivalry to share her flight.
    'Behold,' she said, 'he is an aged man,
    (And so thou art, for years will come to all;)
    And I, so young; and at the Beltane games,
    When Carbry Liffacher did play the men
    Of Brea, I, unseen, saw thee snatch a hurl,
    And thrice on Tara's champions win the goal;
    And gave thee love that day, and still will give.'
    So she herself avow'd. Resolve me, Finn,
    For thou art just, could youthful warrior, sworn
    To maiden's service, have done else than I?
    No: hate me not—restore me—give me drink."
    "I will not."
  6. "Nay, but, Finn, thou hadst not said
    'I will not,' though I'd ask'd a greater boon,
    That night we supp'd in Breendacoga's lodge.
    Remember: we were faint and hunger-starved
    From three day's flight; and even as on the board
    They placed the viands, and my hand went forth
    To raise the wine-cup, thou, more quick of ear,
    O'erheardst the stealthy leaguer set without;
    And yet should'st eat or perish. Then 'twas I,
    Fasting, that made the sally; and 'twas I,
    Fasting, that made the circuit of the court;
    Three times I cours'd it, darkling, round and round;
    From whence returning, when I brought thee in
    The three lopp'd heads of them that lurk'd without—

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    Thou hadst not then, refresh'd and grateful, said
    'I will not,' had I ask'd thee, 'Give me drink.'"
    "There springs no water on this summit bald."
    "Nine paces from the spot thou standest on,
    The well-eye well thou knowest it bubbles clear."
  7. Abash' d, reluctant, to the bubbling well
    Went Finn, and scoop'd the water in his palms;
    Wherewith returning, half-way, came the thought
    Of Grania, and he let the water spill.
  8. "Ah me," said Dermid, "hast thou then forgot
    Thy warrior-art that oft, when helms were split,
    And buckler-bosses shatter 'd by the spear,
    Has satisfied the thirst of wounded men?
    Ah, Finn, these hands of thine were not so slack
    That night, when, captured by the king of Thule,
    Thou layest in bonds within the temple gate
    Waiting for morning, till the observant king
    Should to his sun-god make thee sacrifice.
    Close-pack'd thy fingers then, thong-drawn and squeezed,
    The blood-drops oozing under every nail,
    When, like a shadow, through the sleeping priests
    Came I, and loos'd thee : and the hierophant
    At day-dawn coming, on the altar-step,
    Instead of victim straighten'd to his knife,
    Two warriors found, erect, for battle arm'd."
  9. Again abash'd, reluctant to the well
    Went Finn, and scoop'd the water in his palms,
    Wherewith returning, half-way, came the thought
    That wrench'd him; and the shaken water spill'd.

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  10. "False one, thou didst it purposely! I swear
    I saw thee, though mine eyes do fast grow dim.
    Ah me, how much imperfect still is man!
    Yet such were not the act of Him, whom once
    On this same mountain, as we sat at eve
    Thou yet mayst see the knoll that was our couch,
    A stone's throw from the spot where now I lie
    Thou showedst me, shuddering, when the seer's fit,
    Sudden and cold as hail, assail'd thy soul
    In vision of that Just One crucified
    For all men's pardoning, which, once again,
    Thou sawest, with Cormac, struck in Rossnaree."
  11. Finn trembled; and a third time to the well
    Went straight, and scoop'd the water in his palms;
    Wherewith in haste half-way return'd, he saw
    A smile on Dermid's face relax'd in death.