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Thy troublous vigil, banishing the wholesome gift of sleep From all our eyes, who, though inured to dreadful sounds
and sights By land and sea, have never yet in all our perilous nights Lain the ward of such a guard."
The Shape made answer none, But with stern wafture of his hand went angrier striding on, Shaking the earth with heavier steps. Then Congal on his
track Sprang fearless.
" Answer me, thou Churl," he cried, " I bid thee back." But, while he spoke, the giant's cloak around his shoulders
grew Like a black-bulged thunder-cloud ; and sudden out there
flew From all its angry, swelling folds, with uproar unconfined, Direct against the King's pursuit a mighty blast of wind : Loud flapped the mantle, tempest-lined, while fluttering
down the gale, As leaves in Autumn, man and hound were swept into the vale, ' And heard through all the huge uproar, through startled
Dalaray, The giant went with stamp and clash, departing south away.
A conspicuous feature of the excellence of Congal as an original poem is the vividness and faithfulness with which the natural scenery of Ireland is painted. The dark and barren hills, the tawny and foam-flecked streams, the misty seas, the vast and lonely raths and burial places of heroes, the emerald fields bathed with dew and glittering with sunshine, all the characteristics of Irish scenery, with their