Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Scotland: Vols. VI–VIII. 1876–79.
Cathair Fhargus
By Dinah Maria Mulock Craik (18261887)
W
I, Fergus, lie, supine in frozen rest;
The maiden morning clouds slip rosily
Unclasped, unclasping, down my granite breast;
The lightning strikes my brow and passes by.
I “Fergus” called,—the great preadamite,
Who for my mortal body blindly sought
Rash immortality, and on this height
Stone-bound, forever am and yet am not,—
Ye pygmies of a later race, who come
And play out your brief generation’s play
Below me, know, I too spent my life’s sum,
And revelled through my short tumultuous day.
Through his poor thousand as his seventy years?
Whether as king I ruled a trembling land,
Or swayed by tongue or pen my meaner peers,
Or earth’s whole learning once did understand,—
They who came sweeping through the silent night
And stood before me, yet did not appall:
Till, fighting ’gainst me in their courses bright,
Celestial smote terrestrial.—Hence, my fall.
Made my hill-seat eternal; bade me keep
My pageant of majestic lone despair,
While one by one into the infinite deep
Sank kindred, realm, throne, world: yet I lay there.
My wisdom that I boasted as divine?
My grand primeval women fair, who shed
Their whole life’s joy to crown one hour of mine,
And lived to curse the love they coveted?
And still my ghost sits by its corpse of stone,
And still the blue smile of the new-formed sky
Finds me unchanged. Slow centuries crawling on
Bring myriads happy death:—I cannot die.