Page:Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry - Meyer.djvu/88

 'Twas madness Not to do his pleasure, Were there not the fear of Heaven's King.

'Twas a trifle That wrung Curithir's heart against me: To him great was my gentleness.

A short while I was In the company of Curithir: Sweet was my intimacy with him.

The music of the forest Would sing to me when with Curithir, Together with the voice of the purple sea.

Would that Nothing of all I have done Should have wrung his heart against me!

Conceal it not! He was my heart's love, Whatever else I might love.

A roaring flame Has dissolved this heart of mine— Without him for certain it cannot live.