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84 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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"What news, what news, thou great gray man ?
I fear 'tis ill with me." " Oh, Aillinn is dead, and her lips are cold,
And she died for loving thee."
And he looked and saw no more the man,
But a trail of driving rain. " Woe ! woe ! " he cried, and took his sword
And drave his heart in twain.
And out of his blood burst forth a spring,
And a yew-tree out of his breast; And it grew so deep, and it grew so high,
The doves came there to rest.
But Aillinn was coming to keep her tryst,
The hour her lover fell; And she rode as fast as the western wind
Across the heathery hill.
Behind her flew her loosened hair,
Her happy heart did beat; When she was 'ware of a cloud of storm
Came driving down the street.
And out of it stepped a great gray man, And his cap was peaked with snow •
The fire of death was in his eyes, And he 'gan his horn to blow.
" What news, what news, thou great gray man ?
And is it ill to me? " " Oh, Baile the Prince is dead at the ford,
And he died for loving thee." |
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