Deirdres lament 1 (Remastered x2)

though eager troops, and fair to see, May home return, though these ye wait: When Usna's sons came home to me, They came with more heroic state. With hazel mead, my Noisha stood: And near our fire his bath I'd pour; On Aindle's stately back stacked the wood; On Ardan's ox, or goodly boar. Though sweet that goodly mead ye think That warlike Conor drinks in hall, I oft have known a sweeter drink, Where leaps in foam the waterfall: Our board was spread beneath the tree, And Noisha raised the cooking flame: More sweet than honey-sauced to me Was meat, prepared from Noisha's game. Though well your horns may music blow, Though sweet each month your pipes may sound, I fearless say, that well I know A sweeter strain I oft have found. Though horns and pipes sound so clear, Though Conor's mind in these rejoice, More magic strain, more sweet, more dear Was Usna's Children's noble voice. Like sound of wave, rolled Noisha's bass; We'd hear him long, so sweet he sang: And Ardan's voice took middle place; And clearly Aindle's tenor rang. Now Noisha lies within his tomb: A sorry guard his friends supplied; His kindred poured his cup of doom, That poisoned cup, by which he died. Ah! Berthan dear! thy lands are fair; Thy men are proud, though hills be stern: Alas! to-day I rise not there To wait for Usna's sons' return. That firm, just mind, so loved, alas! The dear shy youth, with touch of scorn, I loved with him through woods to pass, And girding in the early morn. When bent on foes, they boded ill, Those dear grey eyes, that maids adored;. For this it is, no more I sleep; No more my nails with pink I stain: No joy can break the watch I keep; For Usna's sons come not again. For half the night no sleep I find; No couch can me to rest beguile: 'Mid crowds of thoughts still strays my mind; I find no time to eat or smile. In eastern Awens proud array No time to joy is left for me; For gorgeous house, and garments gay, Nor peace, nor joy, nor rest can be.