The Highland monthly - National Library of Scotland

The Death oj Diarmad. 501
Returning: to the stream he filled
His hollowed hands again, with care
Strode back- lest any drop he spilled,
Intent the draught to bear
To Diarmad's fevered lips. Alas !
What brought the thought of Grainne then
Into his mind ? His hands let pass
Their freight to earth again.
He gazed irresolute a while
On Diarmad sinking to his death,
Then rushed, swept clean of hate and guile,
Into the stream beneath.
He caught the water up and ran.
No power could stay him now! He fled
Up the steep bank. In vain ; all wan,
Lay Diarmad stark and dead.
And Fion fell upon the mound.
Stunned like a woman new-bereft
Of her first born, then tore the ground
As one whom reason left,
And moaned aloud, grovelled and crept
About the grassy hill, and clung
Wildly to Diarmad's corse, and wept
As only weep the strong.
Awe-struck the warriors stood. They viewed
As well they knew, how deep and strong
In Fion's love had Diarmad stood.
Who both had suffered wrong
From fair foul Grainne, wicked wife,
Whose crooked ways wrought all'this woe.
They now could fling her, reft of life,
As carrion to the crow.
" O Dairmad, Diarmad," Fion cried,
" Art thou then lost to me for aye ?
I would to heaven I had died
Ere I had known this day.
Cold, cold thou liest without a breath
And mine the deed that laid thee low.
Why didst thou save me from the death
When Conal struck the blow ?