by AE
I dreamed I saw that ancient Irish queen,
Who from her dun, as dawn had opened wide,
Saw the tall foemen rise on every side,
And gazed with kindling eye upon the scene,
And in delight cried, " Noble is their mien. "
" Most kingly are they, " her own host replied,
Praising the beauty, bravery, and pride
As if the foe their very kin had been.
And then I heard the innumerable hiss
Of human adders, nation with poisonous breath
Spitting at nation, as if the dragon rage
Would claw the spirit, and I woke at this,
Knowing the soul of man was sick to death
And I was weeping in the Iron Age.
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