Sing to the harp, or listen to old tales
Of love, and lover's perils, hopes and joys ;
While Ardan and Lord Naisi seated by
Beguiled the swift time in their chess-play-wars
DEIRDRE,
Lo, Ardan comes in haste. He wears the look
Of one who presently has news to tell.
No news were now good news. I pray the Gods
We're not found out !
ARDAN.
A sail, I've seen a sail
Unless the sea-fog cheats my sight, a sail.
DEIRDRE.
A flight of sea-birds, haply ; not a sail.
NAISI.
Nay, wherefore, not a sail ? Were't Conor himself
And all his ships, I'd hail the face of man.
Let's forth and see it, whatsoe'er it be.
AINLE.
Hark, heard ye not a cry ?
DEIRDRE.
No. Keep within,
'Tis the fox barking, haply ; not a cry.
ARDAN.
'Tis a man's cry ; a hunter's hallo, hark !
NAISI.
I know the call ; an Ulster man is he
Who gives it. If my old and glorious friend
Fergus, the son of Roy, yet walks the earth,
It is his hunting-call. Ho, Fergus, ho !
DEIRDRE.
Vain my contention. Here, alas, he comes.
FERGUS.
Found in good hour. Hail ! sons of Usnach, hail!
NAISI.
Comest thou, Fergus, enemy or friend ?
FERGUS.
Friend as of old ; to well-loved friends I come,
