Oh Queen Maeve in great dearth of joys, deep hatred I had not—
’twas Ferguson who spoke so vile, but your bad name must now rot.
For I have this unwholesome dream, his murders which greatly spun
Of what you did, what you said, flights; his firings of the gun.
I sit in wonder at the great deeds, poor and in rags my pants;
Sinner I was, and sinner I be, forget a thousand rants
Said in private,—were not for men to see; nor was it a felony
Which stirred the nations stalwart from sea to every bloody sea.
My verse had changed, your heart’s not true, your judgments, they all were wrong.
Nothing but tender love I had for you; your betrayal had sorely stung.
These dreams are torment—nails in my arms, the pain of your sharp gun.
These are not my dreams, but I have to say, they are that Ferguson’s.
For I am small, known not by you, my strong friend but ally lost;
For I never had thought you’d harm me; but friendship was paid the cost.
Rather, someone else I see, in vision who wears that rebel cloth—
It is Ferguson, he who is to be, that man eternally lost.
Gore-Booth, Eva. “Scene of the Triumph of Maeve.” Poetry Nook,
—. “To Maeve.” A Treasury of Irish Literature, Sterling Publishing Co.,
2017, pp. 237.
Neifert, B. K. “Daniel and the Druid.” WordPress,
Yeats, William Butler. “Fergus and the Druid.” Selected Poems And Four Plays of William
Butler Yeats. Scribner Paperback Poetry edition 1996. 1957, pp. 7 – 8.
—. “To the Rose Upon the Rood of Time.” Selected Poems And Four Plays of William
Butler Yeats. Scribner Paperback Poetry edition 1996. 1957, pp. 6.