King Eochaid came at sundown to a wood

      Westward of Tara. Hurrying to his queen

      He had out-ridden his war-wasted men

      That with empounded cattle trod the mire;

      And where beech trees had mixed a pale green light

      With the ground-ivy's blue, he saw a stag

      Whiter than curds, its eyes the tint of the sea.

      Because it stood upon his path and seemed

      More hands in height than any stag in the world

      He sat with tightened rein and loosened mouth

      Upon his trembling horse, then drove the spur;

      But the stag stooped and ran at him, and passed,

      Rending the horse's flank. King Eochaid reeled

      Then drew his sword to hold its levelled point

      Against the stag. When horn and steel were met

      The horn resounded as though it had been silver,

      A sweet, miraculous, terrifying sound.

      Horn locked in sword, they tugged and struggled there

      As though a stag and unicorn were met

      In Africa on Mountain of the Moon,

      Until at last the double horns, drawn backward,

      Butted below the single and so pierced

      The entrails of the horse. Dropping his sword

      King Eochaid seized the horns in his strong hands

      And stared into the sea-green eye, and so

      Hither and thither to and fro they trod

      Till all the place was beaten into mire.

      The strong thigh and the agile thigh were met,

      The hands that gathered up the might of the world,

      And hoof and horn that had sucked in their speed

      Amid the elaborate wilderness of the air.

      Through bush they plunged and over ivied root,

      And where the stone struck fire, while in the leaves

      A squirrel whinnied and a bird screamed out;

      But when at last he forced those sinewy flanks

      Against a beech bole, he threw down the beast

      And knelt above it with drawn knife. On the instant

      It vanished like a shadow, and a cry

      So mournful that it seemed the cry of one

      Who had lost some unimaginable treasure

      Wandered between the blue and the green leaf

      And climbed into the air, crumbling away,

      Till all had seemed a shadow or a vision

      But for the trodden mire, the pool of blood,

      The disembowelled horse.

      King Eochaid ran,

      Toward peopled Tara, nor stood to draw his breath

      Until he came before the painted wall,

      The posts of polished yew, circled with bronze,

      Of the great door; but though the hanging lamps

      Showed their faint light through the unshuttered windows,

      Nor door, nor mouth, nor slipper made a noise,

      Nor on the ancient beaten paths, that wound

      From well-side or from plough-land, was there noise;

      And there had been no sound of living thing

      Before him or behind, but that far-off

      On the horizon edge bellowed the herds.

      Knowing that silence brings no good to kings,

      And mocks returning victory, he passed

      Between the pillars with a beating heart

      And saw where in the midst of the great hall

      Pale-faced, alone upon a bench, Edain

      Sat upright with a sword before her feet.

      Her hands on either side had gripped the bench,

      Her eyes were cold and steady, her lips tight.

      Some passion had made her stone. Hearing a foot

      She started and then knew whose foot it was;

      But when he thought to take her in his arms

      She motioned him afar, and rose and spoke:

      'I have sent among the fields or to the woods

      The fighting men and servants of this house,

      For I would have your judgment upon one

      Who is self-accused. If she be innocent

      She would not look in any known man's face

      Till