Mider's Call to Fairy-Land
From the "Wooing of Etain."
O Befind, wilt thou come with me,
To the wondrous land of melody?
The crown of their head like the primrose hair,
Their bodies below as the colour of snow.
There in that land is no "mine" or "thine,"
White the teeth there, eyebrows black,
Brilliant the eyes—great is the host—
And each cheek the hue of the foxglove.
How heady soever the ale of Inis Fál
More intoxicating is the ale of the Great Land;
A marvel among lands the land of which I speak,
No young man there enters on old age.
Like the purple of the plains each neck,
Like the ousel's egg the colour of the eye;
Though fair to the sight are the Plains of Fál
They are a desert to him who has known the Great Plain.
Warm, sweet streams across the country,
Choice of mead and wine,
Distinguished beings who know no stain,
Conception without sin, without lust.
We behold everyone on every side,
And none beholds us;
The gloom of Adam's transgression it is
Conceals us from their reckoning.
O Woman, if thou come among my strong people,
A golden top will crown thy head;
Fresh swine-flesh, new milk and ale for drink
Thou shalt have with me, O woman fair!