Wanderings of Oisin-William Butler Yeats

0:00Book 1 of the Wondrings of Asheen by William Butler Yeats This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit Libravox.org. Recording by Nathan Atte, Antipity and Writer.Wedpress.com The Wondrings of Asheen by William Butler Yeats. Book 1 The Wondrings of Asheen by William Butler Yeats. The Wondrings of Asheen by William Butler Yeats. Book 1 To remember, sick with years, the swift and numerous spears, Horsemen with their floating hair and balls of barley, honey and wine, those merry couples dancing in tune and the white body that lay by mine, the tale, though words, be lighter than hair, must live to be old like the wandering moon. And Conan and Finn were there when we followed a deer with our bang hounds, with brands, Skull and Andelomea.

1:00And passing the furbolgs, burial mounds, came to the car and heaped grassy hill, a passionate mave is stony still, and found on the dove grey edge of the sea, a pool-pale high-born lady who rode on a horse with bridle of fin-riny, and like a sunset were ellipse, a stormy sunset, on doom-ships, a citron, colour gloomed in her hair, but down to her feet white-fester-float, and with the glimmering crimson glowed of many a figured embroidery. It was bound with a pool-pale shell that wavered like the summer streams as her soft bosom rose and fell, you were still wrecked among human dreams. Why do you wind no horn, she said, and every hero-drip his head, the hornless deer is not more sad that many a peaceful moment had more sleek than any granary mouse, in his own leafy forest house, among the waving fields of thern, hunting of heroes, should be glad. O pleasant woman answered fin, we think on Oscar's penciled urn,

2:03on the heroes' lying slaying, on Gabra's rave and covered plane, but where are your noble kith and kin, and from what country do you ride? My father and my mother are, Angus and Eden, my own name, I am, and my country far beyond the tumbling of this tide. What dream came with you that you came, through bitter tide on foam-wet feet, did your companion wander away, and where the birds of Angus swing? Their on did she look haughty and sweet. I have not yet, or were he king, been spoken of with any man, yet now I choose, for these four feet ran through the foam and ran to this that I might have your son to kiss, with thee no better than my son, that you, through all that foam, should run. I loved no man, though kings be sought, on tall the day, and poets brought, rhyme that rhymed upon Ashin's name, and now I'm dizzy with the thought of all that wisdom and for fame, of battles broken by his hands, of stories

3:05builded by his words, that I like colored Asian birds, at evening in the araneless lands, co-patteric by your brazen will, there was no limit of mine, but fill them to a desperate gulf of love, who only will I wed, I cried, and I will make a thousand songs, and set your name, all names above, and captive, spound with eleven thongs, shall kneel and praise you one by one, at evening in my Western Dunne. A Ashin, mount by me and ride, to shores by the wash of the tremulous tide, where men of heaps, no burial mounds, and the days pass by, like a wayward tune, a broken faith has never been known, and the blushers of first love never have flown, and there I will give you a hundred hounds, no mighty creatures, bay at the moon, and a hundred robes of murmuring soup, and a hundred cars, and a hundred sheep, his long wall, whiter than a sea, frothed flows, and a hundred spears, and a hundred bows, and oil and wine, and honey and milk,

4:05and always never anxious sleep, while a hundred u, this mighty of limb, but knowing your tomalt, and your hate, and your strife, and a hundred ladies, merrius birds, who when they dance to a fitful measure, have a speed, like a speed at the salmon loads, shall follow your horn, and obey your new shall know, the dain and leisure, and nay in, be with you for a wife, and she sighed gently, he grows late, easy can love and sleep away, where I would be when the white moon climbs, and red sun falls from the world, grows dim, and then I mounted and she bound me with a triumphant arms around me, and whispering to herself and wound me, that when the horse had felt my weight, he shook himself and made three times, cailty Conan and Femme came near, and wept in raised bellomenting hands, and bid me stay with many a tear, but we rode out from the human lands. In what far kingdom do you go, are thinnions with the shield and bow? Where are you phantoms, whiter snow, your slips had life's most prosperous glow,

5:09or you with whom in sloping valleys, or down the duly forest alleys, I chased at mourn the flying deer, with whom I hurled the hurrying spear, and heard the fomens bucklers rattle, and broke the heaving ranks of battle, and brand, skill and and lo-meer, where are you with your long rough hair? You're going out where the red deer feeds, not hear the fomens from their steeds. Both not long, with drooping hoed, companions long accrues to endude, and a ounce for centuries does to endear. We galloped over the glassy sea, I know not if days passed or hours, and I am sang continually, day in the songs, and then july showers of pensive laughter, unhuman sound, lo-ed unweariness, and softly round, my human sorrow of white arms wound, the galloped, now a hornless deer, passed by us, chased by a phantom hound, or purly white, save one red deer, and now a lady rode like the wind, with an apple of gold in her tossing hand, and a beautiful young man,

6:12followed behind, with quenchless gaze and fluttering hear. Were these two born in the Daenon land, or have they breathed the mortal air? Hex them no longer, nae him said, and sime bowed her gentle head, and sime laid the purly tip of one long finger on my lip. But now the moon, like a white rose shone in the pearl west, and the sun's ring sank, and clouds arrayed their rank on rank, about his fading crimson ball. The floor of our new-ings, hosting hall, was not more level than the sea, as full of loving fantasy, and with low murmurs we rode on. A mania trumpet twisted shell, at him immortal silent sleeps, dreaming of her own melting years, for golds, her ambours, and her blues, heared with soft light the shallowing dips, but now a wandering land breeze came, and a far sound of feathery choirs, it seemed to blow from the dying flame. They seemed as sing in the smongering fires, the horse towards the music raced,

7:15naying along the lifeless waist like a sort of hinges many a tree, rose ever out of the warm sea, and they were trembling ceaselessly, as though they all would beat in time upon the centre of the sun, to that low laughing woodland rye, and now our wandering hours were done. We can't to the shore and knew the reason of the trembling trees, found every branch the songbirds flew, or clung their on like a swarming bees, while round the shore and millions stooped like drops of frozen rainbow light, and pondered in a soft faint mood, upon their shadows dim the tide, and told the purple deeps they pride, and murmured in snatches of delight, and on the shores were many boats with bending stones and bending bows, and carbon figures on their prowls of bitters and fish-eating stots, and swarms with their exalted throats, and where the wood and waters meet, we tied for horse and a levy clump, and nigh in blue three merry notes, out of a little tall silver trump, and then an answering whispering flu

8:17over the bear and quality land, a whisper of impetuous feet, and evident nearer, nearer grew, and from the woods rushed out a band of men and ladies hand in hand, and singing, singing all together, their brows were white as fragrant milk, their cloaks made out of yellow silk, and trimmed with many of crimson feather. And when they saw the cloak I wore, was dim with mire of a mortal shore, they fingered it and gazed on me, and laughed like murmurs of the sea, but nigh in with a swift distress, bit them away and hold their peace, and when they heard her voice they ran, and knelt their every girl and man, and kissed as they would never cease, a pill-pull hand and a hem of her dress, she bade them bring us to the hall, where anguish dreams from sun to sun a droid dream of the end of days, where the stars are to wane and the world to be done. They lit us by long and shadowy waves, where drops of dew in myriads fall, entangled creepers every hour, blossom in some new crimson flower,

9:19and once a sudden laughter sprang from all their lips, and once they sang together, all the dark woods rang, and made in all their distant parts, with berm of bees in honey-marts, a rumour of delighted hearts, and once a lady by my side gave me a harp and bed me sing, and touched the laughing silver string, when I sang of human joy, a sorrow wrapped each merry face, and Patrick, by your beard, a whipped, until one came a tearful boy, a sad accretion never stepped in this strange human bard, he cried, and caught the silver harp away, and weeping over the white strings hurled it down, and a leaf-heed hollow place that kept dim waters from the sky, and each one said with a long, long sigh, oh saddest harp in all the world, slip there till the moon and the stars die. And now, still sad, we came to where a beautiful young man dreamed within a house of what was clay, and skin one hand up held his bedless chin, and one a scepter flashing out,

10:20wild flames of red and gold and blue, like to a merry wandering route of dancers leaping in the air, and men and ladies knelt them there, and showed their eyes with tear-drops dim, and with low murmurs prayed to him, and kissed the scepter with red lips, and touched it with their fingertips. He held that a flashing scepter up, joy-drowns with twilight in the dew, and fills with stars' nights purple cup, and wakes the sluggish seeds of corn, stirs the young kid's budding horn, and makes the infant ferns unwrap, and falls the pewyth, paints his cap, and rolls along the unwieldy sun, and makes the little planets run, and if joy were not on the earth, there were an end of change in birth, and earth in heaven and hell would die, and in some gloomy barrow-like, folded-like, a frozen fly, then mock at death and time with clansers, and wavering arms, and wandering dancers. Men's hearts of old were drops of flame, that from the saffron morning came,

11:24were drops of silver joy that fell out of the man's pearl-twisted shell, and now hearts cry that hearts are slaves, and toss and turn in narrow caves, but here there is no law nor rule, or of hands held or weary too, and here there is no change nor death, but only kind and merry breath, for joy is God and God is joy, with one long lance for girl and boy. And the pale blossom of the moon, he fell into a druid swam, and in a wild and sudden dance, we mocked at time and fate, and chance and swept out of the water of hall, and came to where the dew drops fall, among the fame drops of the sea, and there we hushed the revelry, and gathering on our brows a frown, and all our swaying bodies down, and to the waves that glimmer by, that sloping green, didain and sod, saying God is joy and joy is God, and things that have grown and sad, or wicked, and things that fear the door one of the morrow, or the grey wandering osprey sorrow.

12:24We danced to wear in the winding thicket, the devask roses, blue and mon bloom, while crimson meteors hang in the bloom, and bending over them softly said, bending over them in the dance, the swift hand, friendly glance, from duey eyes upon the dead, for the leads of other roses, on the dead dim earthen closures, but never, never on our graves, heaped beside the glimmering waves, shalt fall the leaves of dimass grocers, and either death nor change comes nearest, and all listless hours fierce, and we fear no dawning morrow, or the grey wandering osprey sorrow. The dance wound through the wintless woods, the other summoned solitudes, until the tossing arms grew still on the woody central hill, and gathered in a panting band, we flung on high each waving hand, and sang unto the starry broods, and our raised eyes, their flashed a glow, with milky brightness to and fro, and thus our song arose, you stars, across your wandering ruby cars,

13:25shake the loose reins, you slaves of God, you rules you with an iron rod, he holds you with an iron bond, each one worven to the other, each one worven to his brother, like bubbles in a frozen pond, but we in a lonely land abide, unchainable, as the dim tide, with hearts that no nor law, nor rule, and hands that hold no worrisome tool, folded in love that fears no morrow, nor the grey wandering osprey sorrow. A Patrick, for a hundred years, I chased upon that woody shore, the deer, the badger, and the bore, a Patrick. For a hundred years, at evening on the glimmering sands, beside the piled up hunting spears, he's now outwarned with a d'hands, wrestled among the island bands, O Patrick, for a hundred years, we went fishing in long boats, with bending stones and bending bows, and carbon figures on their prowls of bitters and fish eating stoats, O Patrick, for a hundred years, the gentle ne'em was my wife,

14:26now to things devour my life, for things that most of all I hate, fasting in prayers. To a long. Yes, yes, for these were ancient ushines, fate, at least longer ago, from heaven's gate, for his last days, to lie in wait. When one day by the tide I stood, I found in that forgetfulness a dreamy foam, a staff of wood, from some dead warriors broken lands. I turned it in my hands, the stains of war on it, and I wept, remembering how the fennians stepped along the blood, be dabbled planes, equal to good or grievous chance. They're on young nigh-em, cosoftly came and caught my hands, with spake no word, so only many times my name, in murmurs, like a frightened bird. We passed by woods and lawns of clover, and found for horse, and bridled him, but we knew well the old was over. I heard one say, as I was grudging with all the ancient sorrow of men, and wrapped in dreams, rode out again, with hoots of the pale fenn driny,

15:27over the glimmering purple sea, under the golden evening light, the immortals moved among the fountains, by rivers and the woods old night, some danced like shadows on the mountains, some wandered ever hand in hand, or sat in dreams on the pale strand, each forehead like an obscure star, bent down above each awkward knee, and sang, with the dreamy gaze, watched where a sun in a saffron blaze was slumbering half in the seaways, and as they sang the painted birds, kept time with their bright wings and feet, like drops of honeycane their words, but fainter than a young lamb's bleat. An old man stirs the fire to a blaze in the house of a child, of a friend, of a brother, he is overlingered his welcome, the days grown dazzle at whisper and sigh to each other, he hears the storm in the chimney above, and bends to the fire and shakes with the cold, while his heart still dreams of battle and love, and the cry of the hails on the hills of old. But we are apart in the grassy places,

16:29where care cannot trouble the least of our days, or the softness of youth began from our faces, for love's first tenderness die in our gaze. The hair grows old as she plays in the sun, and gazes around her with eyes of brightness, before the swift things that she dreamed of were done, she limps along in an aged whiteness. A storm of birds in the Asian trees, like tulips in the air, or winging in the gentle waves of the summer seas, that raised their heads and wonders singing, must murmur at last unjust and just, and my speed is a weariness falters the mouse, and the king's fisher turns toward ball of dust, and the roof falls in of his tunneled house, but the love dew dims our eyes to the day, when God shall come from the sea with a sigh, and bid the stars drop down from the sky, and the moon like a pale rose wither away. End of Book One recorded by Nathan Atth, hantypideanwriter.wordpress.com

17:38Book Two of the Wondrings of Acheem by William Butler Yitz. This is a Librevox recording, all of the Vox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. Recording by Nathan Atth, hantypideanwriter.wordpress.com The Wondrings of Acheem by William Butler Yitz. Book Two. Now, man of cross ears, shadows call down names, and then away, away like whirling flames, and now flood by, miscovered without a sound, the youth and lady, and the deer and hound. Cos no more on the phantoms, I am said, encased my eyes and swaying, her bright head, and her bright body, saying of theory and man. Before God was, or my old line began, or shadowy, vast exultant, theories of old, who wedded men with rings of droid gold, and how those lovers never turned their eyes upon the life that fades and flickers and dies.

18:41It loved and kissed on dim shores far away, while ground with music of the sying spray. It sang no more as when, like a brown bee, that has drunk full, she crossed the misty sea, with me and her white arms, a hundred years, before this day, for now the fall of tears, troubled her song. I do not know if days, or hours passed by, yet hold the morning rays, shone many times among the glimmering flowers, woven into her hair, before dark towers, rose in the darkness, and the white surf cleaned, about them, and the horse of fairy-screened, and shivered, knowing the aisle of many fears, nor ceased until white night, struck his ears, and named him by sweet names, a foaming tide, white and a far with search, fan-formed and white, but it's from a great door, marred by many a blow, from mace and sword and pollex long ago. When gods and giants wad, we rode between the seabed,

19:43covered pillars, and the green and surging phosphorous, alone gave light on our dark pathway, till a countless flight, with moon-wid steps, climate and left and right, dark statues, climate over the pale tide, pond dark drones, between the lids of one, the image to meteors had flashed and run, and had disported in the stilly jet, the thick stars had dawned and shone and set, since God made time and death and sleep the other, stretched his long arm to wear, and misty smother, the stream churned, churned, and churned his lips apart, as though he told his never slumbering heart of every phone drop on its misty way. Time the horse to his fast foot at the lay, half in the unbisseled sea we climbed the stear, and climbed so long I thought glass steps were, hung from the morning starving these mild words, found the delight dear like wings of birds. My brothers spring out of their beds at horn,

20:43a murmur like young partridge with loud horn, they chased the moon to idea, and when the dew-drawn stars hang in the air, look too long fishing lines, or point and pair, and ash and hunting spear. Oh, sigh, oh, fluttering sigh, be kind to me, flutter along the frothlips of the sea, and shores the frothlips wet, and stay a little while, and bid them weep, ah, touch their blue veined eyelids if they sleep, and shake their cup of let. When you have told how I weep endlessly, flutter along the frothlips of the sea, and home to me again, and in the shadow of my hair, lay head, and tell me that you found a man unbid the saddest of all men. Lady with soft eyes like funeral tapers and face that seemed wrought out of moonlit vapors, and a sad mouth that fear made tremulous as any ruddy moth looked

21:45down on us, and she with her wave rusted chain was tied to two old eagles full of ancient pride that with dim eyeballs stood on either side, few feathers were on their disabled wings for their dim minds were with the ancient things. I bring deliverance, little pale nigh-homes said, neither the living nor the unlaboring dead nor the high gods who never lived may fight my enemy and hope, dim minds for fright, jabber and scream about him in the night. For he is strong and crafty as the seas at spring under the seven hazel trees, and I must knees endure and hate and weep, until the gods and dim minds drop asleep, hearing aid touched the mournful strings of gold. Is he so dreadful? Be not overbulled, but fly while still you may, and there on I. This demon shall be battered till he died, his loose bulk be thrown in the loud tide. Flea from him, ill pale nigh and weeping cried. For men flee the demons,

22:46but moved not my angry king remembering soul, one jot. There was no mightiest soul of he, this line, now it is old and mouse-like, for a sign, I burst the chain still, ealous, nervous blind, wrapped in the things of the unhuman mind, in some dim memory, ancient mood, still ealous, nervous blind, the eagles stood, and then we climbed the stair to a high door, a hundred horsemen on the basalt floor. Beneath had paced contempt, we held our way and stood within, clothed in a misty ray, a sore a foam white seagull, drift and float under the roof, and with a straining throat shouted and hailed him, young there a star, for no man's cry shall ever mount so far, nor even your guard could have thrown down that hall, stabbling his unloose flight-nings in their stall, it had sat down inside with comfort heart, as though his hour would come. We saw it at the part, that was most distant from the door, green slime made the way slippery,

23:49and time on time showed prints of seaboard scales, while down through it, the captives journeys to and fro were red, like a small river, and where feet touched came, a momentary gleam of phosphorous flame, under the deepest shadows of the hall, that woman found a ring hung on the wall, and in the ringer torch, and with its flair, making a world about her in the air past under the dim doorway out of sight, and came again, holding a second light, burning between her fingers, and in mine, laid it inside. I held a sword who shined, no centuries could dim, the word ran, thereon in hogham letters, mananan, that seagods' name, who in a deep content spring dripping, and with captive demons sent out of the sevenfold seas, built the dark wall, rooted in foam and clouds, and cried to all the mighty masters of a mighty race, and at his cry,

24:50there came no milk-pale face under a crown of thorns and dark with blood, but only exultant faces, nigh-am-stlupped, the boudhead trembling, when the white blade shone, but she whose hours of tenderness were gone, had near hope nor fear, abade them hide, under the shadows till the tomoths died of the loud crashing and earth-shaking fight, this stage should look upon some dreadful sight, and thrust the torch between the slimy flakes, a dome made out of endless, carbon jigs, the shadowy face flowed into shadowy face, looked down on me, and in the self-same place I waited hour by hour, and the high dome, windowless, pillars, multitude-ness home, of faces waited, and the leisureed gaze was loaded with the memory of days. Period and mighty, went through the great door, the dawn came in, and glimmered on the floor, with a pale light, I journeyed around the hall, and found a door deep,

25:51sunken in the wall, the least of doors, beyond on a dim plane, a little runnel made a bubbling strain, and on the runnel's stony end, their edge, a dusky demon, dry as a withered seash, swayed, crueaning to himself, an unknown tongue, in a sad rivalry, he sang and swung, back-armed and mournful, passing to and fro, his hand along the runnel side, as though the flower still grew there, far in the seas, waste, shaking and waving, vapor-vapour-chaste, while high-fraile, cloudlets fed with a green light, light-tricks of leaves, immovable and bright, hung in the passionate dawn, he slowly turned, a demon's leisure eyes, first white, now burned like wings of kingfishers, and he arose, barking, we trampled up and down with blows of sword and brazen battle-hacks while day, gave to high noon, and noon to night gave way, and when he knew the sword of men and men, amid the shapes of night,

26:51he changed and ran through many shapes, a lunge that the smooth throat of a great eel, it changed, an eye-butt's moat, a third tree, roaring in its leafless top, and thereupon, I drew the livid chop of a drowned, dripping body to my breast, horror from horror-grue, but when the west had surged up in a plume-y fire, I draved through heart and spine, and cast him in the wave, lest nigh am shudder. Full of hope and dread, these two camcaring wine, and meat and bread, and healed my wounds with unduence, out of flowers, that feed white moths by some d'Edanon shine, then in that whore, bit by the dim sea-shine, relay on skins of otters and drank wine, brewed by the sea-guards, from huge cups that lay upon the lips of sea-guards in their day, and then on a heap, dup a skins of otters slept, and when the sun once more, and saffron stepped, rolling his flagrant wheel out of the deep, we sang the loves and angers without sleep, and all the exhalting flavors of the strong,

27:51but now the lying plurics murder song, with barren words and flatteries of the weak, and what land do the powerless turn the beak of ravening sorrow, will the hand of wrath, for all your cross-ears, they have left the path, and wonder in the storms and clinging snows, hopeless for ever, ancient ushine nose, for years weak and poor and blind and lies, on the anvil of the world. This storm prescries, which aren't with thunder, lightning and fierce wind, forgot as hurt and speaks his angry mind, go cast your body on stones and pray, the he has wrought with night and dawn and day. Saint, do you weep, by here amid the thunder, the Fenyon horses, armour, torn asunder, laughter and cries, the armies clash and shock, and now of a daylight, darkening raven's flock, see seasome, mournful, laughing, Fenyon horn. We feasted for three days, on the fourth morning I found, dropping seafoam on the wide stair,

28:53and hung with slime, and we spring in his hear, that demon, dull and unsungurable, and once more to a day long battle fell, and out of the sundown through him in the surge, to lie until the fourth morning, saw him urge, his new healed shape, and for a hundred years, so ward, so feasted, with nor dreams, nor fears, nor languor, nor fatigue, an endless feast, an endless war, the hundred years had ceased. I stood upon the stair, the surges bore, a beach bount壁, and my heart grew sore, remembering how I had stood by white-haired fin, under a beach at Almyon, and heard the thin, outcry of bats, and then young Nayan came, holding that horse, and sadly called my name, I mounted, and we passed over the loan, and drifting grain-as, while this monotone, surly and distant, mixed inseparably, into the clanger of the wind, and in sea, I hear my soul drop down into decay, and men enanced dark,

29:53tower-stone after stone, gather sea-slime, and fall the seaward way, and the moon go to the waters, night and day, at all the overthrown. Until the moon has taken all I wage, war on the mightiest men, under the skies, and they have fallen or fled, age after age, light is man's love, and light is man's rage, his purpose, drifts and dies. And then lost Nayan murmured, love we go, to the island of forgetfulness, for low the islands are dancing, and are victories, are empty of all power. And which of these is the island of content, none knows she said, and on my bosom, laid a weeping head. End of book two, recorded by Nathan at at www.hattepityunrighta.wordpress.com. Book three of the wanderings of Asheen by William Butler Yitz. This is a Libravox recording.

30:54All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit libravox.org. Recording by Nathan at www.hattepityunrighta.wordpress.com. The wanderings of Asheen by William Butler Yitz. Book three. Fled firm underneath this and round us a wandering and milky smoke. High as the saddle-gurth covering away from our glances, the tide. And those that fled and that followed from the foam-pull distance broke. The immortal desire of immortals we saw in their faces, and side. I'm used on the chase with the fennians and brand, Skjollin, Lomere, and never a song sang in the am dove on my finger tips. Came now the sliding of tears and sweeping of mist cold hair. And now the warmth of size

31:54and after the quiver of lips. Will we days long or else long in riding when rolled in a grusly piece an all-day level before us with tripping hazel and oak? And we stood on a seashish, we saw not for whiter the new washed fleece, fled foam underneath us and round us a wandering and milky smoke. And we rode on the plains of the seas, edge to the seas, edge barren, and grey, grey sand on the green of the grasses and over the tripping trees, tripping and doubling landwood as though they would hasten away, like an army of old men longing for rest from the moan, of the seas, that the trees grew taller and closer immense in their wrinkling bark, dropping a murmur of dropping old silence in that one sound. The no-life creatures lived there,

32:57no weasels moved in the dark. Long size arose in our spirits beneath us, bubbled the ground. And the ears of the horse went sinking away in the hollow night, raised drift from a sailor slow drowning the gleams of the world and the sun, ceased on our hands at our faces on hazel and oak leaf, the light, and the stars were blotted above us and the whole of the world was one. The horse gave a wini for cumbers with stems of the hazel and oak. A valley flowed down from his hawks and there in the low grass lay. Under the starlight and shadow a monstrous slumbering folk and naked and gleaming bodies poured out and heaped in the way. And by them were arrow and orcs, arrow and shield and blade and drew blanched horns in whose hollow a child of three

33:59years old would sleep on a couch of rushes and all enraught and enlaid. And more cumlly than man can make them with bronze and silver and gold. And each of the huge white creatures was huge of then four score men. The tops of their ears were feathered their hands were the claws of birds and shaking the plumes of the grasses and the leaves of the mural blend. Breathing came from those bodies long walless, growing whiter, then curves. The wood was so spacious above them that he who has stars for his flocks fondle the leaves with his fingers nor go from his due comfort skies. So long with a sleeping the hours had build at their nests in their locks filling the fibrous dimness with long generations of eyes. And over the limbs and the valley the slow hours wandered and came.

35:00Now in a place of starfire and now in a shadow place wide. And the chief of the huge white creatures his knees in the soft star flame. A loose inner place of shadow withdrew the reins by his side. Gold in the nails of his birdclaws unloosely along the dim ground. In one was a branch soft shining with builds more many than size. In midst of an old man's bosom, house ruffling and pacing around. Side all their bodies against him filling the shade with their eyes. And my gaze was thronged with the sleepers. No, not since the world began. In realms where the handsome were many, nor in glamours by demons flung. A face has alive with such beauty being known to the salt eye of man. It weary with passions that faded when the sevenfold

36:00seas. The young. And I gazed on the billbranch sleeps forbear for some by the sender and the keers. I saw how those slumbrus growing weary, their camping ingrasses deep. Of wars with the wide world in pacing the shores of the wandering seas. Layed hands on the billbranch and swayed it in fear of unhuman sleep. Snatching the horn of naim a blue-along lingering note came sound from those monstrous sleepers that sound like the stirring flies. He is shaking the fold of his lips and heaving the pillar of his throat. Watched me with mournful wonder out of the worlds of his eyes. I cried, come out of the shadow king of the nails of gold. And tell of your goodly household and the goodly works of your hands that we may use in the starlight and talk for battles.

37:00Aboled, your questioner ushene is worthy he comes from the finian lands. Half-open his eyes were and held me dull with the smoke of their dreams. His lips moved slowly and answer no answer howt of them came. And he swayed in his fingers the billbranch slowly dropping a sound in faintest dreams, softer than snowflakes in April and piercing the marrow like flame. Rapt in the wave of that music with weariness more inner-birth, the moiled of my centuries filled me and gone like a sea covered stone with the memories of the whole of my sorrow and the memories of the whole of my mirth and a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone. In the roots of the grass as the sorrows I laid my body as low and the fill pale name laid by me a brow on the midst of my breast. And the horse was gone in the distance

38:02and years after years gamflow. Square leaves of the ivy moved over responding us down to our rest. Man of many white crows years of century there I forgot how the fetlocks tripled in the battle and the fallen on the fallen lie-rolled. How the falconer follows the falcon in the weeds of the herons pot and the name of the demon whose hammer made concubus sold blade of old. And man of the many white crows years of century there I forgot the spear shaft is made out of ash with the shield out of ossea and hide how the hammer spring on the ample on the spearhead's burning spot how the slow-blowed oxen of thin loes sadly at evening tied. But in dreams my old man and the crows years driving the dust with their thrones moved round me of semen

39:02or landsmen all at robinter toes and by me the kings of the red branch with roaring of laughter and songs were moved as they moved once loved making or piercing the tempest sails came blainade magnaissa tall figures who feast would have old times slunk cook barric the traitor and war would the spittle on his beard ever dry dark bailor as old as a forest cow born his mighty head sunk helpless man lifting the lids of his weary and death making eye and by me in soft regretment the fenians moved in loud streams and grainy are walking and smiling soared with a needle of bone so lived I and lived not so wrought I and wrought not with creatures of dreams in a long iron sleep as a fish in the water goes down as a stone at times our slumber was lightened

40:03when the sun was on silver or gold and brushed with the wings of the owls and the dimness they love going by and a glow when was green on the grass leaf lured from his lea in the mold half wakening we lifted our eyelids and gazed on the grass with a sigh so watched I went man of the crows years at the heel of the centri fell weak in the midst of the meadow from his miles in the midst of the air a styling like them that foregathered an ether moon waking white as a shell and the fenians made foray out morning with brand skill and lamea I awoke the strange horse without sunnets out of the distance ran thrusting his nose to my shoulder he knew in his bosom deep that once more moved in my bosom the ancient sadness of man and that I would leave the immortals pandemias their dues dropping asleep oh had you seen beautiful niam

41:04grow white as the waters are white lord of the crows years you were even had lifted your hands and wet but the bird in my fingers I mounted remembering alone that delight of twilight and slumber were gone and that who had seen patiently stepped I cried oh niam oh white one if only a 12 houred day I must gaze on the beard of thin and move where the old men and young in the fennians dwellings of water will lean on the chessboards and play us sweet to me now were even all conans slanderous tongue like me with some galley for say can far off in meridian I remembering its long odd companion selfs turning to thread bear rags and more to crawl on the seas with long or as mile after mile but to be amid shooting of flies and flaring rushes

42:04and flags the motionless eyeballs of spirits grow in mild with mysterious thought watched hear those seamless faces from the valleys glimmering gyr as she lermid oh wondering as she the strength of the billbreach is not for their moves alive and your fingers the fluttering sadness of earth then goes through the lands in the cello and see what the mortals do and softly come to your niam over the tops of the tide but weep for your niam oh as she in weep for if only your shoe rushed lightly as hay mouse earth pebbles you will come no more to my side a flaming line of the world a wind will you turn to your rest a saw from a distant saddle from the earth she made her mone I would die like a small with a leaf in the autumn for breast unto breast which I'm ningle no more

43:05nor our gaze is empty this sweetness alone in the eyes of the farthest seas were only the spirits come with the winds less the soft than the breath of the pigeon whose sleeps on her nest well lost in the star fires and odours the sound of the seas fake drum a flaming line of the world a wind will you turn to your rest the whaling redistant I rode by the woods of the rinking bark wherever is murmurous dropping old silence and that one sound for no life creatures live there no weasels move in the dark in a reverie forgetful of all things over the bubbling ground and I rode by the plains of the seas edge were all is barren and grey grey sand on the green of the grasses and over the dripping trees dripping and doubling landward as though they would hasten away I can army of old men

44:06longing for rest from the mone of the seas and the winds made the sands on the seas edge turning and turning go as my mind made the names of the phoenians far from the hazel and oak I rode away on the surges where high as the saddle bow fled foam underneath me and round me a wandering and milky smoke long fled the foam flakes around me the winds fled out of the vast snatching the bird in secret nor new eye it wasn't apart and they froze the ploth on my body like armour rippeted fast for remembrance lifting her leanness keened in the gates of my heart till fattening the winds of the morning an odor of you mow and hay came in my forehead fill low and my tears like berries fill down later a sound came half lost in the sound of a shore far away in the great grass barnacle calling

45:07and later the shoreweeds brown if I were as I once was the strong hooths crushing the sand and the shells coming out of this sea as the dawn comes a jaunt of love on my lips not coughing my head on my knees and praying and rot with the bells I would leave no saint's head on his body from Rockland to Berra of ships making way from the kindling surges I rode on a bridle half which wondering to see upon all hands of waffles and woodwork made will bell-mounted churches and garbless the sacred calm and the wrath and a small and a feeble populous stooping with matic and spade or weeding or plowing with faces as shining with much toil wet while in this place and that place with bodies unglorious echieftains stood awaiting in patience the straw death crows you one caught

46:08in your net and the laughter of scorn from my mouth loved the roaring wind in the wood and because I went by them so huge and so speedy with eyes so bright and after the hard gaze of youth or an old man lifted his head and I rode and I rode and I cried out of the phoenix hunt waltz in the night so sleepily by daytime I've always cried the phoenix long time the dead the white bed stood hushed on the pathway of the flesh his face has dried grass and in folds round his eyes and his mouth he said as a child out milk and the dreams of the islands were gone and I knew how men sorrow and pass and their hound and their horse and their love and their eyes they glimmer like silk and wrapping my face in my hair I murmured in old age they ceased and my tears were larger than berries and I murmured where white clouds

47:08light spread and crevro or broad knock thith and with many of old they feast on the floors of the gods he cried no the gods a long time are dead and lonely and longing for the nigham I shivered and turned near about a heart me longing to leap like a grasshopper into her heart I turned and rode to the westward and followed the seas old shout till I saw him though of lies sleeping till starlight and midnight heart and there at the foot of the mountain to carry the sack full of sand a board with staggering and sweating but fell with their burden had length ending down from the gem studded saddle I flung at five yards with my hand the sob for men waxing so weekly a sob for the thinnions old strength the rest you have heard of of a crow's young man how and divided the girth I fell on the path

48:09and the horse went away like a summer fly and my years 300 fell on me and I rose and walked on the earth a creeping old man flutters sleep the spittle on his beard never dry how the men of the sand sack showed me a church with its bell-free in air sorry place with a swing of the warax in my demise the cruzio gleems what place have guilty and conund and brand skilled and lunae speak you too are old with your memories an old man surrounded dreams where the flesh of the foot saw pling at on the burning stones is their place where the demons with them wires on the burning stones of white hill watching the blessed ones move far off and the smile in God's face between them a gateway of brass and the hell will be angels who fell put the staff in my hands for I go to the phoenix

49:09o' cleric to chant the war songs that rouse them of old they will rise making clouds with their breath innumerable singing exultant the clay underneath them shall pant and demons be broken in pieces and trampled beneath them in death and demons are frayed in their darkness deep horror of eyes and of wings afraid their ears on the earth laid shall listen and rise up and weep earing the shaking of shields and the quiver of stretched both strings earing hell loud with a murmur as shouting and mocking we sweep we will tear out the flaming stones and batter the gateway of brass and enter a nuns saith no when their enters the strongly armed guest a cleaners of bruntenes and march on as oxen move over young grass and feast making converse of warts and of old wounds

50:10in turn to our rest on the flaming stones with our refuge the limbs of the phoenix a tost none wore on the masters of hell who could break up the world in their rage but kneel and wear out the flags and pray for your soul that is lost through the demon love of its youth and its gorgeous and passionate age our knee to be shaken with coughing and broken with old age and pain without laughter a show unto children alone with remembrance and fear will empty the purple hours as a biggest cloak in the rain as a haycock out on the flood or a wolf sucked under a weir it was sad to gaze on the blessed and no man I loved evolved there I throw down the chain of small stones when life in my body has ceased I will go to keyolty and Conan and brands Kiolum Lomea

51:11and dwell in the house of the fenians be they in flames or at feast End of book three End of the wanderings of Ashim by William Buckley Yitz recorded by Nathan at antipidianrighta.wepress.com