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Home  »  Anthology of Irish Verse  »  63. The King’s Son

Padraic Colum (1881–1972). Anthology of Irish Verse. 1922.

By Thomas Boyd

63. The King’s Son

WHO rideth through the driving rain

At such a headlong speed?

Naked and pale he rides amain

Upon a naked steed.

Nor hollow nor height his going bars,

His wet steed shines like silk,

His head is golden to the stars

And his limbs are white as milk.

But, lo, he dwindles as the light

That lifts from a black mere,

And, as the fair youth wanes from sight,

The steed grows mightier.

What wizard by yon holy tree

Mutters unto the sky

Where Macha’s flame-tongued horses flee

On hoofs of thunder by?

Ah, ’tis not holy so to ban

The youth of kingly seed:

Ah! woe, the wasting of a man

Who changes to a steed!

Nightly upon the Plain of Kings,

When Macha’s day is nigh,

He gallops; and the dark wind brings

His lonely human cry.