Читать книгу Lyra Celtica: An Anthology of Representative Celtic Poetry онлайн

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His is that banner bright;

When forth the Féinn to battle go,

He’s foremost in the fight.”

“Sweet bard, another comes; I see

A blood-red banner toss’d

Above a mighty hero’s head

Who waves it o’er a host?”

“That banner,” quoth the bard, “belongs

To good and valiant Rayne;

Beneath it feet are bathed in blood

And heads are cleft in twain.”

“Sweet bard, what banner now I see

A leader fierce and strong

Behind it moves with heroes brave

Who furious round him throng?”

“That is the banner of Great Gaul:

That silken shred of gold,

Is first to march and last to turn,

And flight ne’er stained its fold.”

“Sweet bard, another now I see,

High o’er a host it glows,

Tell whether it has ever shone

O’er fields of slaughtered foes?”

“That gory flag is Cailt’s,” quoth he,

“It proudly peers in sight;

It won its fame on many a field

In fierce and bloody fight.”

“Sweet bard, another still I see;

A host it flutters o’er;

Like bird above the roaring surge

That laves the storm-swept shore.”