Part 5 (2/2)

I think that all deep pa.s.sion is but a kiss In the mid battle, and a difficult peace 'Twixt oil and water, candles and dark night, Hill-side and hollow, the hot-footed sun, And the cold sliding slippery-footed moon, A brief forgiveness between opposites That have been hatreds for three times the age Of his long 'stablished ground. Here's Concobar; So I'll be done, but keep beside me still, For while he talks of hammered bronze and asks What wood is best for building, we can talk Of a fierce woman.

(Concobar, a man much older than Cuchullain, has come in through the great door at the back. He has many Kings about him. One of these Kings, Daire, a stout old man, is somewhat drunk.)

CONCOBAR.

(To one of those about him.) Has the s.h.i.+p gone yet? We have need of more bronze workers and that s.h.i.+p I sent to Africa for gold is late.

CUCHULLAIN.

I knew their talk.

CONCOBAR.

(Seeing Cuchullain.) You are before us, King.

CUCHULLAIN.

So much the better, for I welcome you Into my Muirthemne.

CONCOBAR.

But who are these?

The odour from their garments when they stir Is like a wind out of an apple garden.

CUCHULLAIN.

My swordsmen and harp players and fine dancers, My bosom friends.

CONCOBAR.

I should have thought, Cuchullain, My graver company would better match Your greatness and your years; but I waste breath In harping on that tale.

CUCHULLAIN.

You do, great King.

Because their youth is the kind wandering wave That carries me about the world; and if it sank, My sword would lose its lightness.

CONCOBAR.

Yet, Cuchullain, Emain should be the foremost town of the world.

CUCHULLAIN.

It is the foremost town.

CONCOBAR.

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