"Deceived are those that will to be deceived:
This knave has heard of gold in river-beds,
And comes a deft sand-groper; let him come!
He'll toil ten years ere gold enough he finds
To make a crooked torque."

From Tara next
The news: "Laeghaire, the King, sits close in cloud
Of sullen thought, or storms from court to court,
Because the chiefest of the Druid race
Locru, and Luchat prophesied long since
That one day from the sea a Priest would come
With Doctrine and a Rite, and dash to earth
Idols, and hurl great monarchs from their thrones;
And lo! At Imber Boindi late there stept
A priest from roaring waves with Creed and Rite,
And men before him bow." Then Milcho spake:
"Not flesh enough from thy strong bones, Laeghaire,
These Druids, ravens of the woods, have plucked,
But they must pluck thine eyes! Ah priestly race,
I loathe ye! 'Twixt the people and their King
Ever ye rub a sore!" Last came a voice:
"This day in Eire thy saying is fulfilled,
Conn of the 'Hundred Battles,' from thy throne
Leaping long since, and crying, 'O'er the sea
The Prophet cometh, princes in his train,
Bearing for regal sceptres bended staffs,
Which from the land's high places, cliff and peak,
Shall drag the fair flowers down!'" Scoffing he heard:
"Conn of the 'Hundred Battles!' Had he sent