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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ancient Irish Poetry, by Various
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Ancient Irish Poetry
Author: Various
Translator: Kuno Meyer
Release Date: April 17, 2010 [EBook #32030]
Language: English
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*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANCIENT IRISH POETRY ***
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</pre>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p>
<h1>
SELECTIONS FROM<br />
ANCIENT IRISH POETRY</h1>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></p>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p>
<div class='padding'>
<h1>
Selections from<br />
Ancient Irish Poetry<br />
</h1>
</div>
<div class='padding'>
<p class='center'>TRANSLATED BY</p>
<h2>KUNO MEYER</h2>
</div>
<div class='padding'>
<p class='center'>
LONDON<br />
<span class="smcap">CONSTABLE & COMPANY Ltd</span><br />
10 ORANGE STREET LEICESTER SQUARE W.C.<br />
1911</p></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p>
<p class='center'>
TO<br />
EDMUND KNOWLES MUSPRATT<br />
THE ENLIGHTENED AND GENEROUS PATRON<br />
OF CELTIC STUDIES<br />
IN THE UNIVERSITY OF LIVERPOOL<br />
A SMALL TOKEN<br />
OF AFFECTIONATE REGARD AND GRATITUDE</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></p>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2>
<p>In offering this collection of translations from early Irish poetry to a
wider public I feel that I am expected to give a brief account of the
literature from which they are taken—a literature so little known that
its very existence has been doubted or denied by some, while others, who
had the misfortune to make its acquaintance in ill-chosen or inadequate
renderings, have refused to recognise any merit in it. The bias and
ignorance of English historians and of many professed students of Irish
history, who continue to write without a first-hand knowledge of its
sources, have also reacted unfavourably upon the study of Irish
literature. Slowly, however, the fact is becoming recognised in ever wider
circles that the vernacular literature of ancient Ireland is the most
primitive and original among the literatures of Western Europe, and that
in its origins and development it affords a most fascinating study.
Whatever may be its intrinsic merit, its importance as the earliest voice
from the dawn of West European civilisation cannot be denied.</p>
<p>Time and again in the course of their history the nations of Western and
Northern Europe have had to struggle hard for the preservation of their
national life against a powerful denationalising influence proceeding from
Rome. Those among them who underwent the Roman conquest lost early,
together with their liberty, their most precious national possession,
their native language and with it their vernacular literature. Less than a
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span>century after the slaughter of Vercingetorix Romanised Gauls were
carrying off the palm of Roman eloquence. By the fifth century the Gaulish
language was everywhere extinct, without having left behind a single
record of its literature. The same fate was shared by all Celtic
nationalities of the Continent, and by those numerous Germanic tribes that
were conquered by Rome, or came within the sphere of the later Roman
civilisation. In Britain, where the Roman occupation was only temporary,
its denationalising effect may be gauged by the numerous Latin loan-words
preserved to the present day in the Welsh language, by the partial
Romanisation of British personal proper names, by the early inscribed
stones, which, unlike those of Ireland, are all in Latin, and by the late
and slow beginnings of a literature in the vernacular.</p>
<p>It was only on the outskirts of the Continental world, and beyond the sway
and influence of the Roman Empire, that some vigorous nations preserved
their national institutions intact, and among them there are only three
whom letters reached early enough to leave behind some record of their
pagan civilisation in a vernacular literature. These were the Irish, the
Anglo-Saxons, and, comparative latecomers, the Icelanders.</p>
<p>Again, when Christianity came with the authority of Rome and in the Latin
language, now imbued with an additional sanctity, there ensued in all
nations a struggle between the vernacular and the foreign tongue for
obtaining the rank of a literary language—a struggle from which the
languages of the Continental nations, as well as of Britain, emerged only
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span>slowly and late. It is not till the end of the eleventh century that we
find the beginnings of a national literature in France and Germany. In
Ireland, on the other hand, which had received her Christianity not direct
from Rome but from Britain and Gaul, and where the Church, far removed
from the centre of Roman influence and cut off from the rest of
Christendom, was developing on national lines, vernacular literature
received a fresh impulse from the new faith. A flourishing primitive
Christian literature arose. The national language was employed not only
for the purposes of instruction and devotion, in tombstone or other
inscriptions, but also in religious prose and poetry, and, still more
remarkable, in learned writings. There can, I think, be little doubt that
we should hardly have any early records of Anglo-Saxon literature if the
English had not in the first instance received Christianity from the
Irish. It had been the influence and example of those Irish missionaries
who converted Northumberland that taught the Anglian monk to preserve and
cultivate his national literature.</p>
<p>Ireland had become the heiress of the classical and theological learning
of the Western Empire of the third and fourth centuries, and a period of
humanism was thus ushered in which reached its culmination during the
sixth and following centuries, the Golden Age of Irish civilisation. The
charge that is so often levelled against Irish history, that it has been,
as it were, in a backwater, where only the fainter wash of the larger
currents reaches, cannot apply to this period. For once, at any rate,
Ireland drew upon herself the eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> of the whole world, not, as so often
in later times, by her unparalleled sufferings, but as the one haven of
rest in a turbulent world overrun by hordes of barbarians, as the great
seminary of Christian and classical learning, 'the quiet habitation of
sanctity and literature,' as Doctor Johnson called her in a memorable
letter written to Charles O'Connor. Her sons, carrying Christianity and a
new humanism over Great Britain and the Continent, became the teachers of
whole nations, the counsellors of kings and emperors. For once, if but for
a century or two, the Celtic spirit dominated a large part of the Western
world, and Celtic ideals imparted a new life to a decadent civilisation
until they succumbed, not altogether to the benefit of mankind, before a
mightier system—that of Rome.</p>
<p>It was during this period that the oral literature, handed down by many
generations of bards and story-tellers, was first written down in the
monasteries. Unfortunately, not a single tale, only two or three poems,
have come down to us from these early centuries in contemporary
manuscripts. In Ireland nearly all old MSS. were destroyed during the
Viking terror which burst upon the island at the end of the eighth
century.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> But, from the eleventh century onward, we have an almost
unbroken series of hundreds of MSS. in which all that had escaped
destruction was collected and arranged. Many of the tales and poems thus
preserved were undoubtedly originally composed in the eighth century; some
few perhaps in the seventh; and as Irish scholarship advances, it is not
unlikely that fragments of poetry will be found which, from linguistic or
internal evidence, may be claimed for the sixth century.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p>
<p>The Celtic nations stand almost alone in this, that they did not employ
poetry for epical narrative. There are no ancient Irish epics or ballads.
So much was prose the natural vehicle of expression for Gaelic narrative,
that when in later centuries the Arthurian epics were done into Gaelic,
they were all turned from poetry into prose. At the same time, most Irish
tales and stories are interspersed with lyrics put into the mouth of the
principal heroes, after the manner of the <i>cante fable</i>, most familiar to
modern readers from the French story of <i>Aucassin et Nicolete</i>. My
collection begins with a few specimens of such poems.</p>
<p>The purely lyrical poetry of ancient Ireland may be roughly divided into
two sections—that of the professional bard attached to the court and
person of a chief; and that of the unattached poet, whether monk or
itinerant bard.</p>
<p>From the earliest times we know the names of many famous bards of ancient
Ireland and Scotland. Their songs are interwoven with the history of the
dynasties and the great houses of the country whose retainers they were,
and whose joys and sorrows they shared and expressed. Thus they became the
chroniclers of many historical events. Of the oldest bardic poetry very
little has as yet been published, and less translated. But many fine
examples of a later age will be found in Standish Hayes O'Grady's
<i>Catalogue of Irish Manuscripts in the British Museum</i>, a book which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span>
makes one realise more clearly than any other that the true history of
Ireland has never yet been written. My own specimens from the earlier
centuries include several laments and a sword-song, a species of bardic
composition which the Gaels share with the Norse.</p>
<p>Religious poetry ranges from single quatrains to lengthy compositions
dealing with all the varied aspects of religious life. Many of them give
us a fascinating insight into the peculiar character of the early Irish
Church, which differed in so many ways from the rest of the Christian
world. We see the hermit in his lonely cell, the monk at his devotions or
at his work of copying in the scriptorium or under the open sky; or we
hear the ascetic who, alone or with twelve chosen companions, has left one
of the great monasteries in order to live in greater solitude among the
woods or mountains, or on a lonely island. The fact that so many of these
poems are fathered upon well-known saints emphasises the friendly attitude
of the native clergy towards vernacular poetry.</p>
<p>In Nature poetry the Gaelic muse may vie with that of any other nation.
Indeed, these poems occupy a unique position in the literature of the
world. To seek out and watch and love Nature, in its tiniest phenomena as
in its grandest, was given to no people so early and so fully as to the
Celt. Many hundreds of Gaelic and Welsh poems testify to this fact.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> It
is a characteristic of these poems that in none of them do we get an
elaborate or sustained description of any scene or scenery, but rather a
succession of pictures and images which the poet, like an impressionist,
calls up before us by light and skilful touches. Like the Japanese, the
Celts were always quick to take an artistic hint; they avoid the obvious
and the commonplace; the half-said thing to them is dearest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span></p>
<p>Of ancient love-songs comparatively little has come down to us. What we
have are mostly laments for departed lovers. He who would have further
examples of Gaelic love-poetry must turn to modern collections, among
which the <i>Love-Songs of Connaught</i>, collected and translated by Douglas
Hyde, occupy the foremost place.</p>
<p>A word on the metrical system of Irish poetry may conclude this rapid
sketch. The original type from which the great variety of Irish metres has
sprung is the catalectic trochaic tetrameter of Latin poetry, as in the
well-known popular song of Cæsar's soldiers:—</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Caesar Gallias subegit, Nicomedes Caesarem,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ecce Caesar nunc triumphat qui subegit Gallias';<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>or in St. Hilary's <i>Hymnus in laudem Christi</i>, beginning:—</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Ymnum dicat turba fratrum, ymnum cantus personet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Christo regi concinentes laudem demus debitam.'<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>The commonest stanza is a quatrain consisting of four heptasyllabic lines
with the rhyme at the end of the couplet. In my renderings I have made no
attempt at either rhythm or rhyme; but I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span> have printed the stanzas so as
to show the structure of the poem. For merely practical reasons I have, in
some cases, printed them in the form of couplets, in others in that of
verse-lines.</p>
<p>I must not conclude without recording here also, as I have done elsewhere,
my gratitude for the constant help and advice given to me in these
translations by my old friend and colleague, Professor J.M. Mackay.</p>
<p class='right'>K.M.</p>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The poems referred to have been preserved in Continental
manuscripts.</p></div>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See the admirable paper by Professor Lewis Jones on 'The Celt
and the Poetry of Nature,' in the <i>Transactions of the Hon. Society of
Cymmrodorion</i>, Session 1892-93, p. 46 ff.</p></div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2>
<div class='center'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>PAGE</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MYTH_AND_SAGA">MYTH AND SAGA</a>—</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE ISLES OF THE HAPPY</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE SEA-GOD'S ADDRESS TO BRAN</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE TRYST AFTER DEATH</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> DEIRDRE'S FAREWELL TO SCOTLAND</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> DEIRDRE'S LAMENT</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE HOSTS OF FAERY</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> FROM THE VISION OF MAC CONGLINNE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#RELIGIOUS_POETRY">RELIGIOUS POETRY</a>—</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE DEER'S CRY</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> AN EVEN-SONG</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> PATRICK'S BLESSING ON MUNSTER</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE HERMIT'S SONG</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> A PRAYER TO THE VIRGIN</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> EVE'S LAMENT</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> ON THE FLIGHTINESS OF THOUGHT</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> TO CRINOG</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE DEVIL'S TRIBUTE TO MOLING</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> MAELISU'S HYMN TO THE ARCHANGEL MICHAEL</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE MOTHERS' LAMENT AT THE SLAUGHTER OF THE INNOCENTS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SONGS_OF_NATURE">SONGS OF NATURE</a>—</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> KING AND HERMIT</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> SONG OF THE SEA</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> SUMMER HAS COME</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> SONG OF SUMMER</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> SUMMER IS GONE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> A SONG OF WINTER</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> ARRAN</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr>
<tr><td><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a></span></p></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LOVE_POETRY">LOVE POETRY</a>—</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE SONG OF CREDE, DAUGHTER OF GUARE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> LIADIN AND CURITHIR</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#BARDIC_POETRY">BARDIC POETRY</a>—</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> A DIRGE FOR KING NIALL OF THE NINE HOSTAGES</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE SONG OF CARROLL'S SWORD</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> EOCHAID'S LAMENT</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> LAMENT ON KING MALACHY II.</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MISCELLANEOUS">MISCELLANEOUS</a>—</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE MONK AND HIS PET CAT</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> COLUM CILLE'S GREETING TO IRELAND</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> ON ANGUS THE CULDEE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> COLUM CILLE THE SCRIBE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE LAMENT OF THE OLD WOMAN OF BEARE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE DESERTED HOME</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> CORMAC MAC CULENNAIN SANG THIS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> ALEXANDER THE GREAT</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#QUATRAINS">QUATRAINS</a>—</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE SCRIBE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> ON A DEAD SCHOLAR</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE CRUCIFIXION</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE PILGRIM AT ROME</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> HOSPITALITY</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE BLACKBIRD</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> MOLING SANG THIS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE CHURCH BELL IN THE NIGHT</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'> THE VIKING TERROR</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#FROM_THE_TRIADS_OF_IRELAND">FROM THE TRIADS OF IRELAND</a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#FROM_THE_INSTRUCTIONS_OF_KING_CORMAC">FROM THE INSTRUCTIONS OF KING CORMAC</a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#NOTES">NOTES</a></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr>
</table></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="MYTH_AND_SAGA" id="MYTH_AND_SAGA"></a>MYTH AND SAGA</h2>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_ISLES_OF_THE_HAPPY" id="THE_ISLES_OF_THE_HAPPY"></a>THE ISLES OF THE HAPPY</h2>
<div class="blockquot"><p>Once when Bran, son of Feval, was with his warriors in his
royal fort, they suddenly saw a woman in strange raiment
upon the floor of the house. No one knew whence she had come
or how she had entered, for the ramparts were closed. Then
she sang these quatrains to Bran while all the host were
listening.</p></div>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I bring a branch of Evin's<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> apple-tree,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In shape alike to those you know:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Twigs of white silver are upon it,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Buds of crystal with blossoms.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There is a distant isle,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Around which sea-horses glisten:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A fair course against the white-swelling surge—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Four pedestals uphold it.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A delight of the eyes, a glorious range<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is the plain on which the hosts hold games:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Coracle contends against chariot<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In Silver-white Plain<a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> to the south.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Pedestals of white bronze underneath<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Glittering through ages of beauty:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fairest land throughout the world,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On which the many blossoms drop.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">An ancient tree there is in bloom,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On which birds call to the Hours:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In harmony of song they all are wont<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To chant together every Hour.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Colours of every shade glisten<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Throughout the gentle-voiced plains:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Joy is known, ranked around music,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In Silver-cloud Plain<a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> to the south.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Unknown is wailing or treachery<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the homely cultivated land:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There is nothing rough or harsh,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But sweet music striking on the ear.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Without grief, without gloom, without death,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Without any sickness or debility—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That is the sign of Evin:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Uncommon is the like of such a marvel.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A beauty of a wondrous land,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whose aspects are lovely,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whose view is wondrous fair,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Incomparable is its haze.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Then if Silverland<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> is seen,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On which dragon-stones and crystals drop—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The sea washes the wave against the land,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A crystal spray drops from its mane.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Wealth, treasures of every hue<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are in the Land of Peace<a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a>—a beauty of freshness:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There is listening to sweet music,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Drinking of the choicest wine.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Golden chariots on the plain of the sea<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Heaving with the tide to the sun:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Chariots of silver on the Plain of Sports,<a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And of bronze that has no blemish.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Steeds of yellow gold are on the sward there,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Other steeds with crimson colour,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Others again with a coat upon their backs<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of the hue of all-blue heaven.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">At sunrise there comes<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A fair man illumining level lands:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He rides upon the white sea-washed plain,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He stirs the ocean till it is blood.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A host comes across the clear sea,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They exhibit their rowing to the land:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then they row to the shining stone<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From which arises music a hundredfold.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It sings a strain unto the host<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through ages long, it is never weary:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Its music swells with choruses of hundreds—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They expect neither decay nor death.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Many-shaped Evna by the sea,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whether it be near, whether it be far—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In which are thousands of many-hued women,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which the clear sea encircles.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">If one has heard the voice of the music,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The chorus of little birds from the Land of Peace,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A band of women comes from a height<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To the plain of sport in which he is.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There comes happiness with health<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To the land against which laughter peals:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Into the Land of Peace at every season<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Comes everlasting joy.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Through the ever-fair weather<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Silver is showered on the lands,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A pure-white cliff over the range of the sea<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Receives from the sun its heat.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There are thrice fifty distant isles<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the ocean to the west of us:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Larger than Erin twice<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is each of them, or thrice.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A wonderful child will be born after ages,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who will not be in lofty places,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The son of a woman whose mate is unknown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He will seize the rule of the many thousands.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A rule without beginning, without end.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He has created the world so that it is perfect:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Earth and sea are His—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Woe to him that shall be under His unwill!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Tis He that made the heavens,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Happy he that has a white heart!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He will purify multitudes with pure water,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis He that will heal your sicknesses.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Not to all of you is my speech,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though its great marvel has been revealed:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Let Bran listen from the crowd of the world<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To the wisdom told to him.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Do not sink upon a bed of sloth!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Let not intoxication overcome thee!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Begin a voyage across the clear sea,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If perchance thou mayst reach the Land of Women.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> The name of one of the Isles of the Happy.</p></div>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> 'Ese vapor transparente y dorado, que solo se ve en los
climas meridionales.'</p></div>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> The name of one of the Isles of the Happy.</p></div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_SEA-GODS_ADDRESS_TO_BRAN" id="THE_SEA-GODS_ADDRESS_TO_BRAN"></a>THE SEA-GOD'S ADDRESS TO BRAN</h2>
<div class="blockquot"><p>Then on the morrow Bran went upon the sea. When he had been
at sea two days and two nights, he saw a man in a chariot
coming towards him over the sea. It was Manannan, the son of
Ler, who sang these quatrains to him.</p></div>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">To Bran in his coracle it seems<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A marvellous beauty across the clear sea:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To me in my chariot from afar<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It is a flowery plain on which he rides.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">What is a clear sea<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For the prowed skiff in which Bran is,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That to me in my chariot of two wheels<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is a delightful plain with a wealth of flowers.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Bran sees<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A mass of waves beating across the clear sea:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I see myself in the Plain of Sports<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Red-headed flowers that have no fault.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sea-horses glisten in summer<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As far as Bran can stretch his glance:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Rivers pour forth a stream of honey<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the land of Manannan, son of Ler.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The sheen of the main on which thou art,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The dazzling white of the sea on which thou rowest about—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yellow and azure are spread out,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It is a light and airy land.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Speckled salmon leap from the womb<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Out of the white sea on which thou lookest:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They are calves, they are lambs of fair hue,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With truce, without mutual slaughter.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Though thou seest but one chariot-rider<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the Pleasant Plain of many flowers,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There are many steeds on its surface,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though them thou seest not.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Large is the plain, numerous is the host,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Colours shine with pure glory,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A white stream of silver, stairs of gold<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Afford a welcome with all abundance.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">An enchanting game, most delicious,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They play over the luscious wine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Men and gentle women under a bush,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Without sin, without transgression.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Along the top of a wood<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy coracle has swum across ridges,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There is a wood laden with beautiful fruit<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Under the prow of thy little skiff.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A wood with blossom and with fruit<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On which is the vine's veritable fragrance,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A wood without decay, without defect,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On which is a foliage of a golden hue.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We are from the beginning of creation<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Without old age, without consummation of clay,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hence we expect not there might be frailty—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Transgression has not come to us.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Steadily then let Bran row!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It is not far to the Land of Women:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Evna with manifold bounteousness<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He will reach before the sun is set.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_TRYST_AFTER_DEATH" id="THE_TRYST_AFTER_DEATH"></a>THE TRYST AFTER DEATH</h2>
<div class="blockquot"><p>Fothad Canann, the leader of a Connaught warrior-band, had
carried off the wife of Alill of Munster with her consent.
The outraged husband pursued them and a fierce battle was
fought, in which Fothad and Alill fell by each other's hand.
The lovers had engaged to meet in the evening after the
battle. Faithful to his word, the spirit of the slain
warrior kept the tryst and thus addressed his paramour:</p></div>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Hush, woman, do not speak to me! My thoughts are not with thee.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My thoughts are still in the encounter at Feic.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My bloody corpse lies by the side of the Slope of two Brinks;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My head all unwashed is among warrior-bands in fierce slaughter.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It is blindness for any one making a tryst to set aside the tryst with Death:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The tryst that we made at Claragh has been kept by me in pale death.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It was destined for me,—unhappy journey! at Feic my grave had been marked out;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It was ordained for me—O sorrowful fight! to fall by warriors of another land.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Tis not I alone who in the fulness of desires has gone astray to meet a woman—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No reproach to thee, though it was for thy sake—wretched is our last meeting!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Had we known it would be thus, it had not been hard to desist.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The noble-faced, grey-horsed warrior-band has not betrayed me.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alas! for the wonderful yew-forest,<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> that they should have gone into the abode of clay!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Had they been alive, they would have revenged their lords;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Had mighty death not intervened, this warrior-band had not been unavenged by me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">To their very end they were brave; they ever strove for victory over their foes;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They would still sing a stave—a deep-toned shout,—they sprang from the race of a noble lord.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">That was a joyous, lithe-limbed band to the very hour when they were slain:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The green-leaved forest has received them—it was an all-fierce slaughter.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Well-armed Domnall, he of the red draught, he was the Lugh<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> of the well-accoutred hosts:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By him in the ford—it was doom of death—Congal the Slender fell.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The three Eoghans, the three Flanns, they were renowned outlaws;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Four men fell by each of them, it was not a coward's portion.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Swiftly Cu-Domna reached us, making for his namesake:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On the hill of the encounter the body of Flann the Little will be found.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">With him where his bloody bed is thou wilt find eight men:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though we thought them feeble, the leavings of the weapon of Mughirne's son.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Not feebly fights Falvey the Red; the play of his spear-strings withers the host;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ferchorb of radiant body leapt upon the field and dealt seven murderous blows.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Front to front twelve warriors stood against me in mutual fight:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Not one of them all remains that I did not leave in slaughter.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Then we two exchanged spears, I and Alill, Eoghan's son:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We both perished—O the fierceness of those stout thrusts!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We fell by each other though it was senseless: it was the encounter of two heroes.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Do not await the terror of night on the battle-field among the slain warriors:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">One should not hold converse with ghosts! betake thee home, carry my spoils with thee!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Every one will tell thee that mine was not the raiment of a churl:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A crimson cloak and a white tunic, a belt of silver, no paltry work!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My five-edged spear, a murderous lance, whose slaughters have been many;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A shield with five circles and a boss of bronze, by which they used to swear binding oaths.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The white cup of my cup-bearer, a shining gem, will glitter before thee;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My golden finger-ring, my bracelets, treasures without a flaw, King Nia Nar had brought them over the sea.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Cailte's brooch, a pin with luck, it was one of his marvellous treasures:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Two heads of silver round a head of gold, a goodly piece, though small.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My draught-board—no mean treasure!—is thine; take it with thee.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Noble blood drips on its rim, it lies not far hence.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Many a body of the spear-armed host lies here and there around its crimson woof;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A dense bush of the ruddy oak-wood conceals it by the side of the grave.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">As thou carefully searchest for it thou shouldst not speak much:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Earth never covered anything so marvellous.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">One half of its pieces are yellow gold, the other are white bronze;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Its woof is of pearls; it is the wonder of smiths how it was wrought.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The bag for its pieces,—'tis a marvel of a story—its rim is embroidered with gold;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The master-smith has left a lock upon it which no ignorant person can open.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A four-cornered casket,—it is but tiny—made of coils of red gold;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">One hundred ounces of white bronze have been put into it firmly.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">For it is of a coil of firm red gold, Dinoll the goldsmith brought it over the sea;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Even one of its clasps only has been priced at seven slave-women.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Memories describe it as one of Turvey's master-works:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the time of Art—he was a luxurious king—'tis then Turvey, lord of many herds, made it.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Smiths never made any work comparable with it;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Earth never hid a king's jewel so marvellous.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">If thou be cunning as to its price, I know thy children will never be in want;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If thou hoard it, a close treasure, none of thy offspring will ever be destitute.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There are around us here and there many spoils of famous luck:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Horrible are the huge entrails which the Morrigan<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> washes.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">She came to us from the edge of a spear, 'tis she that egged us on.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Many are the spoils she washes, terrible the hateful laugh she laughs.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">She has flung her mane over her back—it is a stout heart that will not quail at her:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though she is so near to us, do not let fear overcome thee!<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">In the morning I shall part from all that is human, I shall follow the warrior-band;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Go to thy house, stay not here, the end of the night is at hand.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Some one will at all times remember this song of Fothad Canann;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My discourse with thee shall not be unrenowned, if thou remember my bequest.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Since my grave will be frequented, let a conspicuous tomb be raised;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy trouble for thy love is no loss of labour.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My riddled body must now part from thee awhile, my soul to be tortured by the black demon.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Save for the worship of Heaven's King, love of this world is folly.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I hear the dusky ousel that sends a joyous greeting to all the faithful:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My speech, my shape are spectral—hush, woman, do not speak to me!<br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> A kenning for a band of warriors. 'The flowers of the forest
have all wede away.'</p></div>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> A famous mythical hero.</p></div>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> A slave-woman (rated at three cows) was the standard of value
among the ancient Irish.</p></div>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> A battle-goddess.</p></div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="DEIRDRES_FAREWELL_TO_SCOTLAND" id="DEIRDRES_FAREWELL_TO_SCOTLAND"></a>DEIRDRE'S FAREWELL TO SCOTLAND</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A beloved land is yon land in the east,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alba<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> with its marvels.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I would not have come hither<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> out of it,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Had I not come with Noisi.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Beloved are Dun Fidga and Dun Finn,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beloved is the fortress above them,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beloved is the Isle of the Thorn-bush,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And beloved is Dun Sweeny.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Caill Cuan!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Unto which Ainnle would go, alas!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Short we thought the time there,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Noisi and I in the land of Alba.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Glen Lay!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There I used to sleep under a shapely rock.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fish and venison and badger's fat,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That was my portion in Glen Lay.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Glen Massan!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tall is its wild garlic, white are its stalks:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We used to have a broken sleep<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On the grassy river-mouth of Massan.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Glen Etive!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There I raised my first house.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Delightful its house! when we rose in the morning<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A sunny cattle-fold was Glen Etive.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Glen Urchain!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That was the straight, fair-ridged glen!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Never was man of his age prouder<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Than Noisi in Glen Urchain.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Glen Da Ruadh!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hail to him who hath it as an heritage!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sweet is the cuckoo's voice on bending branch<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On the peak above Glen Da Ruadh.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Beloved is Draighen over a firm beach!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beloved its water in pure sand!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I would never have left it, from the east,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Had I not come with my beloved.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> <i>i.e.</i> Scotland.</div>
<div class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> <i>i.e.</i> to Ireland.</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="DEIRDRES_LAMENT" id="DEIRDRES_LAMENT"></a>DEIRDRE'S LAMENT</h2>
<div class="blockquot"><p>And Deirdre dishevelled her hair and began kissing Noisi and
drinking his blood, and the colour of embers came into her
cheeks, and she uttered this lay.</p></div>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Long is the day without Usnagh's Children;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It was never mournful to be in their company.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A king's sons, by whom exiles were rewarded,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Three lions from the Hill of the Cave.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Three dragons of Dun Monidh,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The three champions from the Red Branch:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">After them I shall not live—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Three that used to break every onrush.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Three darlings of the women of Britain,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Three hawks of Slieve Gullion,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sons of a king whom valour served,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To whom soldiers would pay homage.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Three heroes who were not good at homage,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their fall is cause of sorrow—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Three sons of Cathba's daughter,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Three props of the battle-host of Coolney.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Three vigorous bears,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Three lions out of Liss Una,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Three lions who loved their praise,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Three pet sons of Ulster.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">That I should remain after Noisi<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Let no one in the world suppose!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">After Ardan and Ainnle<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My time would not be long.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ulster's high-king, my first husband,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I forsook for Noisi's love:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Short my life after them,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I will perform their funeral game.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">After them I will not be alive—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Three that would go into every conflict,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Three who liked to endure hardships,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Three heroes who never refused combat.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O man that diggest the tomb,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And that puttest my darling from me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Make not the grave too narrow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I shall be beside the noble ones.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_HOSTS_OF_FAERY" id="THE_HOSTS_OF_FAERY"></a>THE HOSTS OF FAERY</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">White shields they carry in their hands,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With emblems of pale silver;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With glittering blue swords,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With mighty stout horns.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">In well-devised battle array,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ahead of their fair chieftain<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They march amid blue spears,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Pale-visaged, curly-headed bands.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They scatter the battalions of the foe,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They ravage every land they attack,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Splendidly they march to combat,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A swift, distinguished, avenging host!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">No wonder though their strength be great:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sons of queens and kings are one and all;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On their heads are<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beautiful golden-yellow manes.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">With smooth comely bodies,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With bright blue-starred eyes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With pure crystal teeth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With thin red lips.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Good they are at man-slaying,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Melodious in the ale-house,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Masterly at making songs,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Skilled at playing <i>fidchell</i>.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a><br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> A game like draughts or chess.</p></div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="FROM_THE_VISION_OF_MAC_CONGLINNE" id="FROM_THE_VISION_OF_MAC_CONGLINNE"></a>FROM THE VISION OF MAC CONGLINNE</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A vision that appeared to me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An apparition wonderful<br /></span>
<span class="i4">I tell to all:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There was a coracle all of lard<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Within a port of New-milk Lake<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Upon the world's smooth sea.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We went into that man-of-war,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Twas warrior-like to take the road<br /></span>
<span class="i4">O'er ocean's heaving waves.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Our oar-strokes then we pulled<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Across the level of the main,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Throwing the sea's harvest up<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Like honey, the sea-soil.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The fort we reached was beautiful,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With works of custards thick,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Beyond the lake.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fresh butter was the bridge in front,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The rubble dyke was fair white wheat,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Bacon the palisade.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Stately, pleasantly it sat,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A compact house and strong.<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Then I went in:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The door of it was hung beef,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The threshold was dry bread,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Cheese-curds the walls.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Smooth pillars of old cheese<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And sappy bacon props<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Alternate ranged;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Stately beams of mellow cream,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">White posts of real curds<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Kept up the house.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Behind it was a well of wine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beer and bragget in streams,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Each full pool to the taste.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Malt in smooth wavy sea<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Over a lard-spring's brink<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Flowed through the floor.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A lake of juicy pottage<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Under a cream of oozy lard<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Lay 'twixt it and the sea.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hedges of butter fenced it round,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Under a crest of white-mantled lard<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Around the wall outside.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A row of fragrant apple-trees,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An orchard in its pink-tipped bloom,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Between it and the hill.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A forest tall of real leeks,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of onions and of carrots, stood<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Behind the house.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Within, a household generous,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A welcome of red, firm-fed men,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Around the fire:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Seven bead-strings and necklets seven<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of cheeses and of bits of tripe<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Round each man's neck.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The Chief in cloak of beefy fat<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beside his noble wife and fair<br /></span>
<span class="i4">I then beheld.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Below the lofty caldron's spit<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then the Dispenser I beheld,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">His fleshfork on his back.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Wheatlet son of Milklet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Son of juicy Bacon,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Is mine own name.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Honeyed Butter-roll<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is the man's name<br /></span>
<span class="i4">That bears my bag.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Haunch of Mutton<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is my dog's name,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Of lovely leaps.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lard, my wife,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sweetly smiles<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Across the brose.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Cheese-curds, my daughter,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Goes round the spit,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Fair is her fame.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Corned Beef is my son,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who beams over a cloak,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Enormous, of fat.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Savour of Savours<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is the name of my wife's maid:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Morning-early<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Across New-milk Lake she went.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Beef-lard, my steed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An excellent stallion<br /></span>
<span class="i4">That increases studs;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A guard against toil<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is the saddle of cheese<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Upon his back.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A large necklace of delicious cheese-curds<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Around his back;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His halter and his traces all<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Of fresh butter.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="RELIGIOUS_POETRY" id="RELIGIOUS_POETRY"></a>RELIGIOUS POETRY</h2>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_DEERS_CRY" id="THE_DEERS_CRY"></a>THE DEER'S CRY</h2>
<div class="blockquot"><p>Patrick sang this hymn when the ambuscades were laid against
him by King Loeguire (Leary) that he might not go to Tara to
sow the faith. Then it seemed to those lying in ambush that
he and his monks were wild deer with a fawn, even Benen,
following them. And its name is 'Deer's Cry.'</p></div>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I arise to-day<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through belief in the threeness,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through confession of the oneness<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of the Creator of Creation.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I arise to-day<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through the strength of Christ's birth with His baptism,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through the strength of His crucifixion with His burial,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through the strength of His resurrection with His ascension,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of Doom.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I arise to-day<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through the strength of the love of Cherubim,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In obedience of angels,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the service of archangels,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In hope of resurrection to meet with reward,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In prayers of patriarchs,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In predictions of prophets,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In preachings of apostles,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In faiths of confessors,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In innocence of holy virgins,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In deeds of righteous men.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I arise to-day<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through the strength of heaven:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Light of sun,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Radiance of moon,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Splendour of fire,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Speed of lightning,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Swiftness of wind,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Depth of sea,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Stability of earth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Firmness of rock.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I arise to day<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through God's strength to pilot me:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">God's might to uphold me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">God's wisdom to guide me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">God's eye to look before me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">God's ear to hear me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">God's word to speak for me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">God's hand to guard me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">God's way to lie before me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">God's shield to protect me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">God's host to save me<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From snares of devils,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From temptations of vices,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From every one who shall wish me ill,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Afar and anear,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alone and in a multitude.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I summon to-day all these powers between me and those evils,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Against every cruel merciless power that may oppose my body and soul,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Against incantations of false prophets,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Against black laws of pagandom,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Against false laws of heretics,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Against craft of idolatry,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Against spells of women and smiths and wizards,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Christ to shield me to-day<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Against poison, against burning,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Against drowning, against wounding,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So that there may come to me abundance of reward.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Christ on my right, Christ on my left,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Christ in the mouth of every one who speaks of me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Christ in every eye that sees me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Christ in every ear that hears me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I arise to-day<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through belief in the threeness,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through confession of the oneness<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of the Creator of Creation.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="AN_EVEN-SONG" id="AN_EVEN-SONG"></a>AN EVEN-SONG</h2>
<p class='center'>PATRICK SANG THIS</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">May Thy holy angels, O Christ, son of living God,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Guard our sleep, our rest, our shining bed.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Let them reveal true visions to us in our sleep,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O high-prince of the universe, O great king of the mysteries!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">May no demons, no ill, no calamity or terrifying dreams<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Disturb our rest, our willing, prompt repose.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">May our watch be holy, our work, our task,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Our sleep, our rest without let, without break.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="PATRICKS_BLESSING_ON_MUNSTER" id="PATRICKS_BLESSING_ON_MUNSTER"></a>PATRICK'S BLESSING ON MUNSTER</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">God's blessing upon Munster,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Men, women, children!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A blessing on the land<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which gives them fruit!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A blessing on every wealth<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which is brought forth on their marches!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No one to be in want of help:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">God's blessing upon Munster!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A blessing on their peaks,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On their bare flagstones,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A blessing on their glens,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A blessing on their ridges!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Like sand of sea under ships<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Be the number of their hearths:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On slopes, on plains,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On mountain-sides, on peaks.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_HERMITS_SONG" id="THE_HERMITS_SONG"></a>THE HERMIT'S SONG</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I wish, O Son of the living God, O ancient, eternal King,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For a hidden little hut in the wilderness that it may be my dwelling.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">An all-grey lithe little lark to be by its side,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A clear pool to wash away sins through the grace of the Holy Spirit.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Quite near, a beautiful wood around it on every side,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To nurse many-voiced birds, hiding it with its shelter.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A southern aspect for warmth, a little brook across its floor,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A choice land with many gracious gifts such as be good for every plant.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A few men of sense—we will tell their number—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Humble and obedient, to pray to the King:—<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Four times three, three times four, fit for every need,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Twice six in the church, both north and south:—<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Six pairs besides myself,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Praying for ever the King who makes the sun shine.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A pleasant church and with the linen altar-cloth, a dwelling for God from Heaven;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then, shining candles above the pure white Scriptures.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">One house for all to go to for the care of the body,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Without ribaldry, without boasting, without thought of evil.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">This is the husbandry I would take, I would choose, and will not hide it:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fragrant leek, hens, salmon, trout, bees.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Raiment and food enough for me from the King of fair fame,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And I to be sitting for a while praying God in every place.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="A_PRAYER_TO_THE_VIRGIN" id="A_PRAYER_TO_THE_VIRGIN"></a>A PRAYER TO THE VIRGIN</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Gentle Mary, noble maiden, give us help!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shrine of our Lord's body, casket of the mysteries!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Queen of queens, pure holy maiden,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Pray for us that our wretched transgression be forgiven for Thy sake.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Merciful one, forgiving one, with the grace of the Holy Spirit,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Pray with us the true-judging King of the goodly ambrosial clan.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Branch of Jesse's tree in the beauteous hazel-wood,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Pray for me until I obtain forgiveness of my foul sins.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Mary, splendid diadem, Thou that hast saved our race,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Glorious noble torch, orchard of Kings!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Brilliant one, transplendent one, with the deed of pure chastity,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fair golden illumined ark, holy daughter from Heaven!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Mother of righteousness, Thou that excellest all else,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Pray with me Thy first-born to save me on the day of Doom.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Noble rare star, tree under blossom,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Powerful choice lamp, sun that warmeth every one.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ladder of the great track by which every saint ascends,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Mayst Thou be our safeguard towards the glorious Kingdom.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Fair fragrant seat chosen by the King,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The noble guest who was in Thy womb three times three months.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Glorious royal porch through which He was incarnated,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The splendid chosen sun, Jesus, Son of the living God.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">For the sake of the fair babe that was conceived in Thy womb,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For the sake of the holy child that is High-King in every place,<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">For the sake of His cross that is higher than any cross,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For the sake of His burial when He was buried in a stone-tomb,<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">For the sake of His resurrection when He arose before every one,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For the sake of the holy household from every place to Doom,<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Be Thou our safeguard in the Kingdom of the good Lord,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That we may meet with dear Jesus—that is our prayer—hail!<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="EVES_LAMENT" id="EVES_LAMENT"></a>EVE'S LAMENT</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I am Eve, great Adam's wife,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis I that outraged Jesus of old;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis I that robbed my children of Heaven,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By rights 'tis I that should have gone upon the cross.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I had a kingly house to please me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Grievous the evil choice that disgraced me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Grievous the wicked advice that withered me!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alas! my hand is not pure.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Tis I that plucked the apple,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which went across my gullet:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So long as they endure in the light of day,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So long women will not cease from folly.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There would be no ice in any place,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There would be no glistening windy winter,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There would be no hell, there would be no sorrow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There would be no fear, if it were not for me.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="ON_THE_FLIGHTINESS_OF_THOUGHT" id="ON_THE_FLIGHTINESS_OF_THOUGHT"></a>ON THE FLIGHTINESS OF THOUGHT</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Shame to my thoughts, how they stray from me!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I fear great danger from it on the day of eternal Doom.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">During the psalms they wander on a path that is not right:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They fash, they fret, they misbehave before the eyes of great God.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Through eager crowds, through companies of wanton women,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through woods, through cities—swifter they are than the wind.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Now through paths of loveliness, anon of riotous shame!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Without a ferry or ever missing a step they go across every sea:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Swiftly they leap in one bound from earth to heaven.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They run a race of folly anear and afar:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">After a course of giddiness they return to their home.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Though one should try to bind them or put shackles on their feet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They are neither constant nor mindful to take a spell of rest.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Neither sword-edge nor crack of whip will keep them down strongly:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As slippery as an eel's tail they glide out of my grasp.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Neither lock nor firm-vaulted dungeon nor any fetter on earth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Stronghold nor sea nor bleak fastness restrains them from their course.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O beloved truly chaste Christ to whom every eye is clear,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">May the grace of the seven-fold Spirit come to keep them, to check them!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Rule this heart of mine, O dread God of the elements,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That Thou mayst be my love, that I may do Thy will.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">That I may reach Christ with His chosen companions, that we may be together!<br /></span>
<span class="i0"><i>They</i> are neither fickle nor inconstant—not as I am.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="TO_CRINOG" id="TO_CRINOG"></a>TO CRINOG</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Crinog, melodious is your song.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though young no more you are still bashful.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We two grew up together in Niall's northern land,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When we used to sleep together in tranquil slumber.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">That was my age when you slept with me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O peerless lady of pleasant wisdom:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A pure-hearted youth, lovely without a flaw,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A gentle boy of seven sweet years.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We lived in the great world of Banva<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Without sullying soul or body,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My flashing eye full of love for you,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like a poor innocent untempted by evil.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Your just counsel is ever ready,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wherever we are we seek it:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To love your penetrating wisdom is better<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Than glib discourse with a king.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Since then you have slept with four men after me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Without folly or falling away:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I know, I hear it on all sides,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You are pure, without sin from man.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">At last, after weary wanderings,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You have come to me again,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Darkness of age has settled on your face:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sinless your life draws near its end.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">You are still dear to me, faultless one,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You shall have welcome from me without stint;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You will not let us be drowned in torment:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We will earnestly practise devotion with you.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The lasting world is full of your fame,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Far and wide you have wandered on every track:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If every day we followed your ways,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We should come safe into the presence of dread God.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">You leave an example and a bequest<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To every one in this world,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You have taught us by your life:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Earnest prayer to God is no fallacy.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Then may God grant us peace and happiness!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">May the countenance of the King<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shine brightly upon us<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When we leave behind us our withered bodies.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> A name for Ireland.</p></div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_DEVILS_TRIBUTE_TO_MOLING" id="THE_DEVILS_TRIBUTE_TO_MOLING"></a>THE DEVIL'S TRIBUTE TO MOLING</h2>
<div class="blockquot"><p>Once as Moling was praying in his church he saw a man coming
in to him. Purple raiment he wore and a distinguished form
had he. 'Well met, cleric!' says he. 'Amen!' says Moling.
'Why dost thou not salute me?' says the man. 'Who art thou?'
says Moling. 'I am Christ, the Son of God,' he answers. 'I
do not know that,' says Moling. 'When Christ used to come to
converse with God's servants, 'twas not in purple or with
royal pomp he would come, but in the shape of a leper.'
'Then dost thou not believe in me?' says the man. 'Whom dost
thou suppose to be here?' 'I suppose,' says Moling, 'that it
is the Devil for my hurt.' 'Thy unbelief will be ill for
thee,' says the man. 'Well,' says Moling, raising the
Gospel, 'here is thy successor, the Gospel of Christ.'
'Raise it not, cleric!' says the Devil; 'it is as thou
thinkest: I am the man of tribulations.' 'Wherefore hast
thou come?' says Moling. 'That thou mayst bestow a blessing
upon me.' 'I will not bestow it,' says Moling, 'for thou
dost not deserve it. Besides, what good could it do thee?'
'If,' says the Devil, 'thou shouldst go into a tub of honey
and bathe therein with thy raiment on, its odour would
remain upon thee unless the raiment were washed.' 'How would
that affect thee?' asks Moling. 'Because, though thy
blessing do nought else to me, its good luck and its virtue
and its blossom will be on me externally.' 'Thou shalt not
have it,' says Moling, 'for thou deservest it not.' 'Well,'
said the Devil, 'then bestow the full of a curse on me.'
'What good were that to thee?' asks Moling. 'The venom and
the hurt of the curse will be on the lips from which it will
come.' 'Go,' says Moling; 'thou hast no right to a
blessing.' 'Better were it for me that I had. How shall I
earn it?' 'By service to God,' says Moling. 'Woe is me!'
says the Devil, 'I cannot bring it.' 'Even a trifle of
study.' 'Thine own study is not greater, and yet it helps me
not.' 'Fasting, then,' says Moling. 'I have been fasting
since the beginning of the world, and not the better thereof
am I.' 'Making genuflexions,' says Moling. 'I cannot bend
forward,' says the Devil, 'for backwards are my knees.' 'Go
forth,' says Moling; 'I cannot teach thee nor help thee.'
Then the Devil said:</p></div>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He is pure gold, he is the sky around the sun,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He is a vessel of silver with wine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He is an angel, he is holy wisdom,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whoso doth the will of the King.<br /></span>
</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He is a bird round which a trap closes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He is a leaky ship in perilous danger,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He is an empty vessel, a withered tree,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who doth not the will of the King above.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He is a fragrant branch with its blossom,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He is a vessel full of honey,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He is a precious stone with its virtue,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whoso doth the will of God's Son from Heaven.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He is a blind nut in which there is no good,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He is a stinking rottenness, a withered tree,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He is a branch of a blossomless crab-apple,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whoso doth not the will of the King.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Whoso doth the will of God's Son from Heaven<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is a brilliant summer-sun,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is a daïs of God of Heaven,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is a pure crystalline vessel.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He is a victorious racehorse over a smooth plain,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The man that striveth after the Kingdom of great God;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He is a chariot that is seen<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Under a triumphant king.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He is a sun that warms holy Heaven,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A man with whom the Great King is pleased,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He is a temple blessed, noble,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He is a holy shrine bedecked with gold.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He is an altar on which wine is dealt,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Round which a multitude of melodies is sung,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He is a cleansed chalice with liquor,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He is fair white bronze, he is gold.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="MAELISUS_HYMN_TO_THE_ARCHANGEL_MICHAEL" id="MAELISUS_HYMN_TO_THE_ARCHANGEL_MICHAEL"></a>MAELISU'S HYMN TO THE ARCHANGEL MICHAEL</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O angel!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Bear, O Michael of great miracles,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To the Lord my plaint.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Hearest thou?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ask of forgiving God<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Forgiveness of all my vast evil.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Delay not!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Carry my fervent prayer<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To the King, to the great King!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">To my soul<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Bring help, bring comfort<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At the hour of its leaving earth.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Stoutly<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To meet my expectant soul<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Come with many thousand angels!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O soldier!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Against the crooked, wicked, militant world<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Come to my help in earnest!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Do not<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Disdain what I say!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As long as I live do not desert me!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thee I choose,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That thou mayst save my soul,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My mind, my sense, my body.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O thou of goodly counsels,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Victorious, triumphant one,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Angelic slayer of Antichrist!<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_MOTHERS_LAMENT_AT_THE_SLAUGHTER_OF_THE_INNOCENTS" id="THE_MOTHERS_LAMENT_AT_THE_SLAUGHTER_OF_THE_INNOCENTS"></a>THE MOTHERS' LAMENT AT THE SLAUGHTER OF THE INNOCENTS</h2>
<p>Then, as the executioner plucked her son from her breast, one of the women
said:</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Why do you tear from me my darling son,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The fruit of my womb?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It was I who bore him,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My breast he drank.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My womb carried him about,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My vitals he sucked,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My heart he filled.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He was my life,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis death to have him taken from me.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My strength has ebbed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My speech is silenced,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My eyes are blinded.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>Then another woman said:</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It is my son you take from me.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I did not do the evil,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But kill me—me!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Kill not my son!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My breasts are sapless,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My eyes are wet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My hands shake,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My poor body totters.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My husband has no son,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And I no strength.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My life is like death.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O my own son, O God!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My youth without reward,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My birthless sicknesses<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Without requital until Doom.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My breasts are silent,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My heart is wrung.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p>
<p>Then said another woman:</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ye are seeking to kill one,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ye are killing many.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Infants ye slay,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The fathers ye wound,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The mothers ye kill.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hell with your deed is full,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Heaven is shut,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ye have spilt the blood of guiltless innocents.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>And yet another woman said:</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O Christ, come to me!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With my son take my soul quickly!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O great Mary, Mother of God's Son,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What shall I do without my son?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For Thy Son my spirit and sense are killed.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I am become a crazy woman for my son.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">After the piteous slaughter<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My heart is a clot of blood<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From this day till Doom.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="SONGS_OF_NATURE" id="SONGS_OF_NATURE"></a>SONGS OF NATURE</h2>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p>
<hr style='width: 45%;' /><p>
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="KING_AND_HERMIT" id="KING_AND_HERMIT"></a>KING AND HERMIT</h2>
<div class="blockquot"><p>Marvan, brother of King Guare of Connaught in the seventh
century, had renounced the life of a warrior-prince for that
of a hermit. The king endeavoured to persuade his brother to
return to his court, when the following colloquy took place
between them.</p></div>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Guare</span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Why, hermit Marvan, sleepest thou not<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon a feather quilt?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Why rather sleepest thou abroad<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon a pitchpine floor?<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Marvan</span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I have a shieling in the wood,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">None knows it save my God:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An ash-tree on the hither side, a hazel-bush beyond,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A huge old tree encompasses it.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Two heath-clad doorposts for support,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And a lintel of honeysuckle:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The forest around its narrowness sheds<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Its mast upon fat swine.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The size of my shieling tiny, not too tiny,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Many are its familiar paths:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From its gable a sweet strain sings<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A she-bird in her cloak of the ousel's hue.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The stags of Oakridge leap<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Into the river of clear banks:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thence red Roiny can be seen,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Glorious Muckraw and Moinmoy.<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A hiding mane of green-barked yew<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Supports the sky:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beautiful spot! the large green of an oak<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fronting the storm.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A tree of apples—great its bounty!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like a hostel, vast!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A pretty bush, thick as a fist, of tiny hazel-nuts,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A green mass of branches.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A choice pure spring and princely water<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To drink:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There spring watercresses, yew-berries,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ivy-bushes thick as a man.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Around it tame swine lie down.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Goats, pigs,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wild swine, grazing deer,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A badger's brood.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A peaceful troop, a heavy host of denizens of the soil,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A-trysting at my house:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To meet them foxes come,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How delightful!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Fairest princes come to my house,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A ready gathering:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Pure water, perennial bushes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Salmon, trout.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A bush of rowan, black sloes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dusky blackthorns,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Plenty of food, acorns, pure berries,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Bare flags.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A clutch of eggs, honey, delicious mast,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">God has sent it:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sweet apples, red whortleberries,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And blaeberries.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ale with herbs, a dish of strawberries<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of good taste and colour,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Haws, berries of the juniper,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sloes, nuts.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A cup with mead of hazel-nut, blue-bells,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Quick-growing rushes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dun oaklets, manes of briar,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Goodly sweet tangle.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When brilliant summer-time spreads its coloured mantle,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sweet-tasting fragrance!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Pignuts, wild marjoram, green leeks,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Verdant pureness!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The music of the bright red-breasted men,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A lovely movement!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The strain of the thrush, familiar cuckoos<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Above my house.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Swarms of bees and chafers, the little musicians of the world,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A gentle chorus:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wild geese and ducks, shortly before summer's end,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The music of the dark torrent.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">An active songster, a lively wren<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From the hazel-bough,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beautiful hooded birds, woodpeckers,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A vast multitude!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Fair white birds come, herons, seagulls,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The cuckoo sings between—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No mournful music! dun heathpoults<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Out of the russet heather.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The lowing of heifers in summer,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Brightest of seasons!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Not bitter, toilsome over the fertile plain,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Delightful, smooth!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The voice of the wind against the branchy wood<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon the deep-blue sky:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Falls of the river, the note of the swan,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Delicious music!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The bravest band make cheer to me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who have not been hired:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the eyes of Christ the ever-young I am no worse off<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Than thou art.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Though thou rejoicest in thy own pleasures,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Greater than any wealth;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I am grateful for what is given me<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From my good Christ.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Without an hour of fighting, without the din of strife<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In my house,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Grateful to the Prince who giveth every good<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To me in my shieling.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Guare</span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I would give my glorious kingship<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With the share of my father's heritage—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To the hour of my death I would forfeit it<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To be in thy company, my Marvan.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Names of well-known plains.</p></div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="SONG_OF_THE_SEA" id="SONG_OF_THE_SEA"></a>SONG OF THE SEA</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A great tempest rages on the Plain of Ler, bold across its high borders<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wind has arisen, fierce winter has slain us; it has come across the sea,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It has pierced us like a spear.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When the wind sets from the east, the spirit of the wave is roused,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It desires to rush past us westward to the land where sets the sun,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To the wild and broad green sea.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When the wind sets from the north, it urges the dark fierce waves<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Towards the southern world, surging in strife against the wide sky,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Listening to the witching song.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When the wind sets from the west across the salt sea of swift currents,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It desires to go past us eastward towards the Sun-Tree,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Into the broad long-distant sea.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When the wind sets from the south across the land of Saxons of mighty shields,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The wave strikes the Isle of Scit, it surges up to the summit of Caladnet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And pounds the grey-green mouth of the Shannon.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The ocean is in flood, the sea is full, delightful is the home of ships,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The wind whirls the sand around the estuary,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Swiftly the rudder cleaves the broad sea.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">With mighty force the wave has tumbled across each broad river-mouth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wind has come, white winter has slain us, around Cantire, around the land of Alba,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Slieve-Dremon pours forth a full stream.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Son of the God the Father, with mighty hosts, save me from the horror of fierce tempests!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Righteous Lord of the Feast, only save me from the horrid blast,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From Hell with furious tempest!<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="SUMMER_HAS_COME" id="SUMMER_HAS_COME"></a>SUMMER HAS COME</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Summer has come, healthy and free,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whence the brown wood is aslope;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The slender nimble deer leap,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the path of seals is smooth.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The cuckoo sings sweet music,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whence there is smooth restful sleep;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Gentle birds leap upon the hill,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And swift grey stags.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Heat has laid hold of the rest of the deer—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The lovely cry of curly packs!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The white extent of the strand smiles,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There the swift sea is.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A sound of playful breezes in the tops<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of a black oakwood is Drum Daill,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The noble hornless herd runs,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To whom Cuan-wood is a shelter.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Green bursts out on every herb,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The top of the green oakwood is bushy,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Summer has come, winter has gone,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Twisted hollies wound the hound.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The blackbird sings a loud strain,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To him the live wood is a heritage,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The sad angry sea is fallen asleep,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The speckled salmon leaps.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The sun smiles over every land,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A parting for me from the brood of cares:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hounds bark, stags tryst,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ravens flourish, summer has come!<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="SONG_OF_SUMMER" id="SONG_OF_SUMMER"></a>SONG OF SUMMER</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Summer-time, season supreme!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Splendid is colour then.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Blackbirds sing a full lay<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If there be a slender shaft of day.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The dust-coloured cuckoo calls aloud:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Welcome, splendid summer!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The bitterness of bad weather is past,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The boughs of the wood are a thicket.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Panic startles the heart of the deer,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The smooth sea runs apace—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Season when ocean sinks asleep,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Blossom covers the world.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Bees with puny strength carry<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A goodly burden, the harvest of blossoms;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Up the mountain-side kine take with them mud,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The ant makes a rich meal.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The harp of the forest sounds music,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The sail gathers—perfect peace;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Colour has settled on every height,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Haze on the lake of full waters.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The corncrake, a strenuous bard, discourses,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The lofty cold waterfall sings<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A welcome to the warm pool—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The talk of the rushes has come.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Light swallows dart aloft,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Loud melody encircles the hill,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The soft rich mast buds,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The stuttering quagmire prattles.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The peat-bog is as the raven's coat,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The loud cuckoo bids welcome,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The speckled fish leaps—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Strong is the bound of the swift warrior.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Man flourishes, the maiden buds<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In her fair strong pride.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Perfect each forest from top to ground,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Perfect each great stately plain.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Delightful is the season's splendour,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Rough winter has gone:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Every fruitful wood shines white,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A joyous peace is summer.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A flock of birds settles<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the midst of meadows,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The green field rustles,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wherein is a brawling white stream.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A wild longing is on you to race horses,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The ranked host is ranged around:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A bright shaft has been shot into the land,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So that the water-flag is gold beneath it.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A timorous, tiny, persistent little fellow<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sings at the top of his voice,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The lark sings clear tidings:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Surpassing summer-time of delicate hues!<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="SUMMER_IS_GONE" id="SUMMER_IS_GONE"></a>SUMMER IS GONE</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My tidings for you: the stag bells,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Winter snows, summer is gone.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Wind high and cold, low the sun,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Short his course, sea running high.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Deep-red the bracken, its shape all gone—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The wild-goose has raised his wonted cry.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Cold has caught the wings of birds;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Season of ice—these are my tidings.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="A_SONG_OF_WINTER" id="A_SONG_OF_WINTER"></a>A SONG OF WINTER</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Cold, cold!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Cold to-night is broad Moylurg,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Higher the snow than the mountain-range,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The deer cannot get at their food.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Cold till Doom!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The storm has spread over all:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A river is each furrow upon the slope,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Each ford a full pool.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A great tidal sea is each loch,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A full loch is each pool:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Horses cannot get over the ford of Ross,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No more can two feet get there.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The fish of Ireland are a-roaming,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There is no strand which the wave does not pound,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Not a town there is in the land,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Not a bell is heard, no crane talks.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The wolves of Cuan-wood get<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Neither rest nor sleep in their lair,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The little wren cannot find<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shelter in her nest on the slope of Lon.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Keen wind and cold ice<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Has burst upon the little company of birds,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The blackbird cannot get a lee to her liking,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shelter for its side in Cuan-wood.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Cosy our pot on its hook,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Crazy the hut on the slope of Lon:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The snow has crushed the wood here,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Toilsome to climb up Ben-bo.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Glenn Rye's ancient bird<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From the bitter wind gets grief;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Great her misery and her pain,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The ice will get into her mouth.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">From flock and from down to rise—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Take it to heart!—were folly for thee:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ice in heaps on every ford—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That is why I say 'cold'!<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="ARRAN" id="ARRAN"></a>ARRAN</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Arran of the many stags,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The sea strikes against its shoulder,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Isle in which companies are fed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ridge on which blue spears are reddened.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Skittish deer are on her peaks,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Delicious berries on her manes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Cool water in her rivers,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Mast upon her dun oaks.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Greyhounds are in it and beagles,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Blackberries and sloes of the dark blackthorn,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her dwellings close against the woods,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Deer scattered about her oak-woods.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Gleaning of purple upon her rocks,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Faultless grass upon her slopes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Over her fair shapely crags<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Noise of dappled fawns a-skipping.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Smooth is her level land, fat are her swine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Bright are her fields,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her nuts upon the tops of her hazel-wood,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Long galleys sailing past her.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Delightful it is when the fair season comes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Trout under the brinks of her rivers,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Seagulls answer each other round her white cliff,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Delightful at all times is Arran!<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="LOVE_POETRY" id="LOVE_POETRY"></a>LOVE POETRY</h2>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p>
<hr style='width: 45%;' /><p>
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_SONG_OF_CREDE_DAUGHTER_OF_GUARE" id="THE_SONG_OF_CREDE_DAUGHTER_OF_GUARE"></a>THE SONG OF CREDE, DAUGHTER OF GUARE</h2>
<div class="blockquot"><p>In the battle of Aidne, Crede, the daughter of King Guare of
Aidne, beheld Dinertach of the Hy Fidgenti, who had come to
the help of Guare, with seventeen wounds upon his breast.
Then she fell in love with him. He died, and was buried in
the cemetery of Colman's Church.</p></div>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">These are arrows that murder sleep<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At every hour in the bitter-cold night:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Pangs of love throughout the day<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For the company of the man from Roiny.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Great love of a man from another land<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Has come to me beyond all else:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It has taken my bloom, no colour is left,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It does not let me rest.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sweeter than songs was his speech,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Save holy adoration of Heaven's King;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He was a glorious flame, no boastful word fell from his lips,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A slender mate for a maid's side.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When I was a child I was bashful,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was not given to going to trysts:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Since I have come to a wayward age,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My wantonness has beguiled me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I have every good with Guare,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The King of cold Aidne:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But my mind has fallen away from my people<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To the meadow at Irluachair.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There is chanting in the meadow of glorious Aidne<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Around the sides of Colman's Church:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Glorious flame, now sunk into the grave—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dinertach was his name.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It wrings my pitiable heart, O chaste Christ,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What has fallen to my lot:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">These are arrows that murder sleep<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At every hour in the bitter-cold night.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="LIADIN_AND_CURITHIR" id="LIADIN_AND_CURITHIR"></a>LIADIN AND CURITHIR</h2>
<div class="blockquot"><p>Liadin of Corkaguiney, a poetess, went visiting into the
country of Connaught. There Curithir, himself a poet, made
an ale-feast for her. 'Why should not we two unite, Liadin?'
saith Curithir. 'A son of us two would be famous.' 'Do not
let us do so now,' saith she, 'lest my round of visiting be
ruined for me. If you will come for me again at my home, I
shall go with you.' That fell so. Southward he went, and a
single gillie behind him with his poet's dress in a bag upon
his back, while Curithir himself was in a poor garb. There
were spear-heads in the bag also. He went till he was at the
well beside Liadin's court. There he took his crimson dress
about him, and the heads were put upon their shafts, and he
stood brandishing them.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Liadin had made a vow of chastity; but faithful to
her word she went with him. They proceed to the monastery of
Clonfert, where they put themselves under the spiritual
direction of Cummin, son of Fiachna. He first imposes a
slight probation upon them, allowing them to converse
without seeing each other. Then, challenged by Liadin, he
permits them a perilous freedom. In the result he banishes
Curithir, who thenceforward renounces love and becomes a
pilgrim. When Liadin still seeks him he crosses the sea. She
returns to the scene of their penance, and shortly dies.
When all is over, Cummin lovingly lays the stone where she
had mourned her love, and upon which she died, over the
grave of the unhappy maiden.</p></div>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Curithir</span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Of late<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Since I parted from Liadin,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Long as a month is every day,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Long as a year each month.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Liadin</span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Joyless<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The bargain I have made!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The heart of him I loved I wrung.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Twas madness<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Not to do his pleasure,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Were there not the fear of Heaven's King.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Twas a trifle<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That wrung Curithir's heart against me:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To him great was my gentleness.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A short while I was<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the company of Curithir:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sweet was my intimacy with him.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The music of the forest<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Would sing to me when with Curithir,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Together with the voice of the purple sea.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Would that<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nothing of all I have done<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Should have wrung his heart against me!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Conceal it not!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He was my heart's love,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whatever else I might love.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A roaring flame<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Has dissolved this heart of mine—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Without him for certain it cannot live.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="BARDIC_POETRY" id="BARDIC_POETRY"></a>BARDIC POETRY</h2>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
<hr style='width: 45%;' /><p>
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="A_DIRGE_FOR_KING_NIALL_OF_THE_NINE_HOSTAGES" id="A_DIRGE_FOR_KING_NIALL_OF_THE_NINE_HOSTAGES"></a>A DIRGE FOR KING NIALL OF THE NINE HOSTAGES (+ <span class="smcap">a.d.</span> 405)</h2>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tuirn son of Torna</span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When we used to go to the gathering with Echu's<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> son,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yellow as a bright primrose was the hair upon the head of Cairenn's<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> son.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Torna</span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Well hast thou spoken, dear son. A bondmaid should be given thee<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For the sake of the hair which thou hast likened to the colour of the crown of the primrose.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Eyelashes black, delicate, equal in beauty, and dark eyebrows—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The crown of the woad, a bright hyacinth, that was the colour of his pupils.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tuirn son of Torna</span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The colour of his cheeks at all seasons, even and symmetrical:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The fox-glove, the blood of a calf—a feast without a flaw! the crown of the forest in May.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Torna</span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">His white teeth, his red lips that never reproved in anger—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His shape like a fiery blaze overtopping the warriors of Erin.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Like the moon, like the sun, like a fiery beacon was the splendour of Niall:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like a dragon-ship from the wave without a flaw was Niall, Echu's son.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tuirn son of Torna</span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">This is a yearnful music, the wail of every mouth in Kerry—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It increases my grief in my house for the death of Muredach's<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> grandson.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Saxons will ravage here in the east, noble men of Erin and Alba,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">After the death of Niall, Echu's noble son—it is a bitter cause of reproach.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Torna</span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Saxons with overwhelming cries of war, hosts of Lombards from the continent,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From the hour in which the king fell Gael and Pict are in a sore straight.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tuirn son of Torna</span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Upon Tara's rampart his fair hair shone against his ruddy face:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like unto the colour of his hair is red gold or the yellow iris.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Torna</span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Twas great delight, 'twas great peace to be in the company of my dear foster-son,<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a><br /></span>
<span class="i0">When with Echu's son—it was no small thing—we used to go to the gathering.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Tuirn son of Torna</span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Darling hero of the white shoulder! whose tribes are vast, a beloved host:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Every man was under protection when we used to go to forgather with him.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Niall's father.</p></div>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Niall's mother.</p></div>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> Niall's grandfather.</p></div>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> <i>i.e.</i> Niall.</p></div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_SONG_OF_CARROLLS_SWORD_ad_909" id="THE_SONG_OF_CARROLLS_SWORD_ad_909"></a>THE SONG OF CARROLL'S SWORD (<span class="smcap">a.d.</span> 909)</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Hail, sword of Carroll! Oft hast thou been in the great woof of war,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Oft giving battle, beheading high princes.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Oft hast thou gone a-raiding in the hands of kings of great judgments,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Oft hast thou divided the spoil with a good king worthy of thee.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Oft where men of Leinster were hast thou been in a white hand,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Oft hast thou been among kings, oft among great bands.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Many were the kings that wielded thee in fight,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Many a shield hast thou cleft in battle, many a head and chest, many a fair skin.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Forty years without sorrow Enna of the noble hosts had thee,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Never wast thou in a strait, but in the hands of a very fierce king.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Enna gave thee—'twas no niggardly gift—to his own son, to Dunling,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For thirty years in his possession, at last thou broughtest ruin to him.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Many a king upon a noble steed possessed thee unto Dermot the kingly, the fierce:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sixteen years was the time Dermot had thee.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">At the feast of Allen Dermot the hardy-born bestowed thee,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dermot, the noble king, gave thee to the man of Mairg, to Murigan.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Forty years stoutly thou wast in the hand of Allen's high-king,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With Murigan of mighty deeds thou never wast a year without battle.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">In Wexford Murigan, the King of Vikings, gave thee to Carroll:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While he was upon the yellow earth Carroll gave thee to none.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thy bright point was a crimson point in the battle of Odba of the Foreigners,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When thou leftest Aed Finnliath on his back in the battle of Odba of the noble routs.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Crimson was thy edge, it was seen; at Belach Moon thou wast proved,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the valorous battle of Alvy's Plain throughout which the fighting raged.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Before thee the goodly host broke on a Thursday at Dun Ochtair,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When Aed the fierce and brilliant fell upon the hillside above Leafin.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Before thee the host broke on the day when Kelly was slain,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Flannagan's son, with numbers of troops, in high lofty great Tara.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Before thee they ebbed southwards in the battle of the Boyne of the rough feats,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When Cnogva fell, the lance of valour, at seeing thee, for dread of thee.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thou wast furious, thou wast not weak, heroic was thy swift force,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When Ailill Frosach of Fál<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> fell in the front of the onset.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thou never hadst a day of defeat with Carroll of the beautiful garths.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He swore no lying oath, he went not against his word.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thou never hadst a day of sorrow, many a night thou hadst abroad;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thou hadst awaiting thee many a king with many a battle.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O sword of the kings of mighty fires, do not fear to be astray!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thou shalt find thy man of craft, a lord worthy of thee.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Who shall henceforth possess thee, or to whom wilt thou deal ruin?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From the day that Carroll departed, with whom wilt thou be bedded?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thou shalt not be neglected until thou come to the house of glorious Naas:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where Finn of the feasts is they will hail thee with 'welcome.'<br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> A name for Ireland.</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="EOCHAID_ON_THE_DEATH_OF_KING_AED_MAC_DOMNAILL_UA_NEILL20" id="EOCHAID_ON_THE_DEATH_OF_KING_AED_MAC_DOMNAILL_UA_NEILL20"></a>EOCHAID ON THE DEATH OF KING AED MAC DOMNAILL UA NEILL<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a></h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Aed of Ailech, beloved he was to me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Woe, O God, that he should have died!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Seven years with Aed of Ath Í—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">One month with Mael na mBó<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> would be longer!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Seven years I had with the King of Ross,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Delightful was my time with the lord of Slemish,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though I were but one month with the king in the south,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I know that it would weary me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Many honours the king gave to me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To pleasure me he brought down stags:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A herd of horses he gave to me in my day,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The great son of the woman from Magh Ai.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Alas, O Comgall, master of harmonies,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That the son of Domnaill should be food for worms!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alas that his face should be on the ground!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alas for noble Ailech without Aed!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">From the day that great Aed was slain<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Few men on earth but are in want:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Since <i>he</i> has died that was another Lugh,<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a><br /></span>
<span class="i0">It were right to shed tears of blood.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tara is deprived of her benefactor,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A blight is upon his kindred,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Torture is put upon the rays of the sun,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Glorious Erin is without Aed.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Fair weather shines not on the mountain-side,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fine-clustering fruit is not enjoyed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The gloom of every night is dark<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Since earth was put over Aed.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ye folk of great Armagh,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With whom the son of the chief lies on his back,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Cause of reproach will come of it<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That your grave is open before Aed.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">In the battle of Craeb Tholcha in the north<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I left my fair companions behind!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alas for the fruit of the heavy bloodshed<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which severed Eochaid and Aed!<br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> Who had fallen in the battle of Craeb Tholcha, <span class="smcap">a.d.</span> 1004.</p></div>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> King of South Leinster.</p></div>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> A famous mythical hero.</p></div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="ERARD_MAC_COISSE_ON_THE_DEATH_OF_KING_MALACHY_II23" id="ERARD_MAC_COISSE_ON_THE_DEATH_OF_KING_MALACHY_II23"></a>ERARD MAC COISSE ON THE DEATH OF KING MALACHY II.<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Alas for thy state, O Dun na Sciath!<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alas that thy lord is not alive!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The high-king of Meath of the polished walls,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His death has thrown us off our course.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thou without games, without drinking of ale,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thou shining abode of the twisted horns!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">After Malachy of noble shape<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alas for thy state, O Dun na Sciath!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I upon the green of thy smooth knolls<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like Ronan's son after the Fiana,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like a hind after her fawn,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alas for thy state, O Dun na Sciath!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I got three hundred speckled cups,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Three hundred steeds and bridles<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In this famous fort of noble shape—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alas for thy state, O Dun na Sciath!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">After Malachy and sweet Brian,<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Murchad<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> that was never weak in hurdled battle,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My heart has been left without a leap of vigour,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alas for thy state, O Dun na Sciath!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ochone! I am the wretched phantom,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Small are my wages since the three are gone.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Greater than my own ruin is my cause of lament,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alas for thy state, O Dun na Sciath!<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Och! 'tis I that am the body without head,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I, Mac Coisse, chief of all poets—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Now that my skill and my vigour are gone,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alas for thy state, O Dun na Sciath!<br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> King of Ireland. He died in 1022.</p></div>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> The Fort of the Shields, on Lough Ennel, Co. Westmeath.</p></div>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> <i>i.e.</i> Brian Boru, who had fallen in 1014 in the battle of
Clontarf.</p></div>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> Brian's son, fallen at Clontarf.</p></div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="MISCELLANEOUS" id="MISCELLANEOUS"></a>MISCELLANEOUS</h2>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p>
<hr style='width: 45%;' /><p>
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_MONK_AND_HIS_PET_CAT" id="THE_MONK_AND_HIS_PET_CAT"></a>THE MONK AND HIS PET CAT</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I and my white Pangur<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Have each his special art:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His mind is set on hunting mice,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Mine is upon my special craft.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I love to rest—better than any fame!—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With close study at my little book:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">White Pangur does not envy me:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He loves his childish play.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When in our house we two are all alone—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A tale without tedium!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We have—sport never-ending!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Something to exercise our wit.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">At times by feats of derring-do<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A mouse sticks in his net,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While into my net there drops<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A difficult problem of hard meaning.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He points his full shining eye<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Against the fence of the wall:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I point my clear though feeble eye<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Against the keenness of science.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He rejoices with quick leaps<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When in his sharp claw sticks a mouse:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I too rejoice when I have grasped<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A problem difficult and dearly loved.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Though we are thus at all times,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Neither hinders the other,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Each of us pleased with his own art<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Amuses himself alone.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He is a master of the work<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which every day he does:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While I am at my own work<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To bring difficulty to clearness.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="COLUM_CILLES_GREETING_TO_IRELAND" id="COLUM_CILLES_GREETING_TO_IRELAND"></a>COLUM CILLE'S GREETING TO IRELAND</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Delightful to be on the Hill of Howth<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Before going over the white-haired sea:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The dashing of the wave against its face,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The bareness of its shores and of its border.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Delightful to be on the Hill of Howth<br /></span>
<span class="i0">After coming over the white-bosomed sea;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To be rowing one's little coracle,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ochone! on the wild-waved shore.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Great is the speed of my coracle,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And its stern turned upon Derry:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Grievous is my errand over the main,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Travelling to Alba of the beetling brows.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My foot in my tuneful coracle,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My sad heart tearful:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A man without guidance is weak,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Blind are all the ignorant.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There is a grey eye<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That will look back upon Erin:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It shall never see again<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The men of Erin nor her women.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I stretch my glance across the brine<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From the firm oaken planks:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Many are the tears of my bright soft grey eye<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As I look back upon Erin.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My mind is upon Erin,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon Loch Lene, upon Linny,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon the land where Ulstermen are,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon gentle Munster and upon Meath.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Many in the East are lanky chiels,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Many diseases there and distempers,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Many they with scanty dress,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Many the hard and jealous hearts.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Plentiful in the West the fruit of the apple-tree,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Many kings and princes;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Plentiful are luxurious sloes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Plentiful oak-woods of noble mast.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Melodious her clerics, melodious her birds,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Gentle her youths, wise her elders,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Illustrious her men, famous to behold,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Illustrious her women for fond espousal.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It is in the West sweet Brendan is,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Colum son of Criffan,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And in the West fair Baithin shall be,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And in the West shall be Adamnan.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Carry my greeting after that<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To Comgall of eternal life:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Carry my greeting after that<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To the stately king of fair Navan.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Carry with thee, thou fair youth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My blessing and my benediction,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">One half upon Erin, sevenfold,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And half upon Alba at the same time.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Carry my blessing with thee to the West,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My heart is broken in my breast:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Should sudden death overtake me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It is for my great love of the Gael.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Gael! Gael! beloved name!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It gladdens the heart to invoke it:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beloved is Cummin of the beauteous hair,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beloved are Cainnech and Comgall.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Were all Alba mine<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From its centre to its border,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I would rather have the site of a house<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the middle of fair Derry.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It is for this I love Derry,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For its smoothness, for its purity,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And for its crowd of white angels<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From one end to another.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It is for this I love Derry,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For its smoothness, for its purity;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All full of angels<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is every leaf on the oaks of Derry.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My Derry, my little oak-grove,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My dwelling and my little cell,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O living God that art in Heaven above,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Woe to him who violates it!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Beloved are Durrow and Derry,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beloved is Raphoe with purity,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beloved Drumhome with its sweet acorns,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beloved are Swords and Kells!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Beloved also to my heart in the West<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Drumcliff on Culcinne's strand:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To gaze upon fair Loch Foyle—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The shape of its shores is delightful.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Delightful it is,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The deep-red ocean where the sea-gulls cry,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As I come from Derry afar,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It is peaceful and it is delightful.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="ON_ANGUS_THE_CULDEE" id="ON_ANGUS_THE_CULDEE"></a>ON ANGUS THE CULDEE (+ ca. 830)</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Delightful to sit here thus<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By the side of the cold pure Nore:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though it was frequented, it was never a path o raids<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In glorious Disert Bethech.<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Disert Bethech, where dwelt the man<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whom hosts of angels were wont to visit;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A pious cloister behind a circle of crosses,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where Angus son of Oivlen used to be.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Angus from the assembly of Heaven,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Here are his tomb and his grave:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis hence he went to death,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On a Friday, to holy Heaven.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Tis in Clonenagh he was reared,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In Clonenagh he was buried:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In Clonenagh of many crosses<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He first read his psalms.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> 'Beechen Hermitage.'</p></div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="COLUM_CILLE_THE_SCRIBE" id="COLUM_CILLE_THE_SCRIBE"></a>COLUM CILLE THE SCRIBE</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My hand is weary with writing,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My sharp quill is not steady,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My slender-beaked pen juts forth<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A black draught of shining dark-blue ink.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A stream of the wisdom of blessed God<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Springs from my fair-brown shapely hand:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On the page it squirts its draught<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of ink of the green-skinned holly.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My little dripping pen travels<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Across the plain of shining books,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Without ceasing for the wealth of the great—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whence my hand is weary with writing.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_LAMENT_OF_THE_OLD_WOMAN_OF_BEARE" id="THE_LAMENT_OF_THE_OLD_WOMAN_OF_BEARE"></a>THE LAMENT OF THE OLD WOMAN OF BEARE</h2>
<div class="blockquot"><p>The reason why she was called the Old Woman of Beare was
that she had fifty foster-children in Beare. She had seven
periods of youth one after another, so that every man who
had lived with her came to die of old age, and her grandsons
and great-grandsons were tribes and races. For a hundred
years she wore the veil which Cummin had blessed upon her
head. Thereupon old age and infirmity came to her. 'Tis then
she said:</p></div>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ebb-tide to me as of the sea!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Old age causes me reproach.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though I may grieve thereat—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Happiness comes out of fat.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I am the Old Woman of Beare,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An ever-new smock I used to wear:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To-day—such is my mean estate—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I wear not even a cast-off smock.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It is riches<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ye love, it is not men:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the time when <i>we</i> lived<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It was men we loved.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Swift chariots,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And steeds that carried off the prize,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their day of plenty has been,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A blessing on the King who lent them!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My body with bitterness has dropt<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Towards the abode we know:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When the Son of God deems it time<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Let Him come to deliver His behest.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My arms when they are seen<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are bony and thin:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Once they would fondle,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They would be round glorious kings.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When my arms are seen,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And they bony and thin,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They are not fit, I declare,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To be uplifted over comely youths.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The maidens rejoice<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When May-day comes to them:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For me sorrow is meeter,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For I am wretched, I am an old hag.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I hold no sweet converse,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No wethers are killed for my wedding-feast,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My hair is all but grey,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The mean veil over it is no pity.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I do not deem it ill<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That a white veil should be on my head:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Time was when many cloths of every hue<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Bedecked my head as we drank the good ale.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The Stone of the Kings on Femen,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Chair of Ronan in Bregon,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis long since storms have reached them.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The slabs of their tombs are old and decayed.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The wave of the great sea talks aloud,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Winter has arisen:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fermuid the son of Mugh to-day<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I do not expect on a visit.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I know what they are doing:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They row and row across<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The reeds of the Ford of Alma—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Cold is the dwelling where they sleep.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Tis 'O my God!'<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To me to-day, whatever will come of it.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I must take my garment even in the sun:<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a><br /></span>
<span class="i0">The time is at hand that shall renew me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Youth's summer in which we were<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I have spent with its autumn:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Winter-age which overwhelms all men,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To me has come its beginning.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Amen! Woe is me!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Every acorn has to drop.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">After feasting by shining candles<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To be in the gloom of a prayer-house!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I had my day with kings<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Drinking mead and wine:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To-day I drink whey-water<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Among shrivelled old hags.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I see upon my cloak the hair of old age,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My reason has beguiled me:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Grey is the hair that grows through my skin—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis thus I am an old hag.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The flood-wave<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the second ebb-tide—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They have all reached me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So that I know them well.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The flood-wave<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Will not reach the silence of my kitchen:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though many are my company in darkness,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A hand has been laid upon them all.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O happy the isle of the great sea<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which the flood reaches after the ebb!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As for me, I do not expect<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Flood after ebb to come to me.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There is scarce a little place to-day<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That I can recognise:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What was on flood<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is all on ebb.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> 'Je tremble à present dedans la canicule.'—Molière,
<i>Sganarelle</i>, scène 2.</p></div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_DESERTED_HOME" id="THE_DESERTED_HOME"></a>THE DESERTED HOME</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sadly talks the blackbird here.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Well I know the woe he found:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No matter who cut down his nest,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For its young it was destroyed.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I myself not long ago<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Found the woe he now has found.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Well I read thy song, O bird,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For the ruin of thy home.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thy heart, O blackbird, burnt within<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At the deed of reckless man:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy nest bereft of young and egg<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The cowherd deems a trifling tale.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">At thy clear notes they used to come,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy new-fledged children, from afar;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No bird now comes from out thy house,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Across its edge the nettle grows.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They murdered them, the cowherd lads,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All thy children in one day:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">One the fate to me and thee,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My own children live no more.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There was feeding by thy side<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy mate, a bird from o'er the sea:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then the snare entangled her,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At the cowherds' hands she died.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O Thou, the Shaper of the world!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Uneven hands Thou layst on us:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Our fellows at our side are spared,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their wives and children are alive.<br /></span>
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A fairy host came as a blast<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To bring destruction to our house:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though bloodless was their taking off,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet dire as slaughter by the sword.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Woe for our wife, woe for our young!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The sadness of our grief is great:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No trace of them within, without—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And therefore is my heart so sad.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="CORMAC_MAC_CULENNAIN_SANG_THIS" id="CORMAC_MAC_CULENNAIN_SANG_THIS"></a>CORMAC MAC CULENNAIN SANG THIS</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Shall I launch my dusky little coracle<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On the broad-bosomed glorious ocean?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shall I go, O King of bright Heaven,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of my own will upon the brine?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Whether it be roomy or narrow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whether it be served by crowds of hosts—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O God, wilt Thou stand by me<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When it comes upon the angry sea?<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_THE_GREAT" id="ALEXANDER_THE_GREAT"></a>ALEXANDER THE GREAT</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Four men stood by the grave of a man,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The grave of Alexander the Proud;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They sang words without falsehood<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Over the prince from fair Greece.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Said the first man of them:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Yesterday there were around the king<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The men of the world—a sad gathering!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though to-day he is alone.'<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Yesterday the king of the brown world<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Rode upon the heavy earth:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though to-day it is the earth<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That rides upon his neck.'<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Yesterday,' said the third wise author,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Philip's son owned the whole world:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To-day he has nought<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Save seven feet of earth.'<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Alexander the liberal and great<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Was wont to bestow silver and gold:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To-day,' said the fourth man,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'The gold is here, and it is nought.'<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thus truly spoke the wise men<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Around the grave of the high-king:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It was not foolish women's talk<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What those four sang.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="QUATRAINS" id="QUATRAINS"></a>QUATRAINS</h2>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>
<hr style='width: 45%;' /><p>
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_SCRIBE" id="THE_SCRIBE"></a>THE SCRIBE</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A hedge of trees surrounds me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A blackbird's lay sings to me;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Above my lined booklet<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The trilling birds chant to me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">In a grey mantle from the top of bushes<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The cuckoo sings:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Verily—may the Lord shield me!—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Well do I write under the greenwood.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="ON_A_DEAD_SCHOLAR" id="ON_A_DEAD_SCHOLAR"></a>ON A DEAD SCHOLAR</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Dead is Lon<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of Kilgarrow, O great hurt!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To Ireland and beyond her border<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It is ruin of study and of schools.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_CRUCIFIXION" id="THE_CRUCIFIXION"></a>THE CRUCIFIXION</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">At the cry of the first bird<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They began to crucify Thee, O cheek like a swan!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It were not right ever to cease lamenting—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It was like the parting of day from night.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ah! though sore the suffering<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Put upon the body of Mary's Son—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sorer to Him was the grief<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That was upon her for His sake.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_PILGRIM_AT_ROME" id="THE_PILGRIM_AT_ROME"></a>THE PILGRIM AT ROME</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">To go to Rome<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is much of trouble, little of profit:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The King whom thou seekest here,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Unless thou bring Him with thee, thou wilt not find.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="HOSPITALITY" id="HOSPITALITY"></a>HOSPITALITY</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O King of stars!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whether my house be dark or bright,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Never shall it be closed against any one,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lest Christ close His house against me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">If there be a guest in your house<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And you conceal aught from him,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis not the guest that will be without it,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But Jesus, Mary's Son.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_BLACKBIRD" id="THE_BLACKBIRD"></a>THE BLACKBIRD</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ah, blackbird, thou art satisfied<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where thy nest is in the bush:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hermit that clinkest no bell,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sweet, soft, peaceful is thy note.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="MOLING_SANG_THIS" id="MOLING_SANG_THIS"></a>MOLING SANG THIS</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When I am among my elders<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I am proof that sport is forbidden:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When I am among the mad young folk<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They think that I am their junior.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_CHURCH_BELL_IN_THE_NIGHT" id="THE_CHURCH_BELL_IN_THE_NIGHT"></a>THE CHURCH BELL IN THE NIGHT</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sweet little bell<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That is struck<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> in the windy night,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I liefer go to a tryst with thee<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Than to a tryst with a foolish woman.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> The tongueless Irish bells were struck, not rung.</p></div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_VIKING_TERROR" id="THE_VIKING_TERROR"></a>THE VIKING TERROR</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Bitter is the wind to-night,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It tosses the ocean's white hair:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To-night I fear not the fierce warriors of Norway<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Coursing on the Irish Sea.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="FROM_THE_TRIADS_OF_IRELAND" id="FROM_THE_TRIADS_OF_IRELAND"></a>FROM THE TRIADS OF IRELAND</h2>
<p>Three slender things that best support the world: the slender stream of
milk from the cow's dug into the pail; the slender blade of green corn
upon the ground; the slender thread over the hand of a skilled woman.</p>
<p>The three worst welcomes: a handicraft in the same house with the inmates;
scalding water upon your feet; salt food without a drink.</p>
<p>Three rejoicings followed by sorrow: a wooer's, a thief's, a
tale-bearer's.</p>
<p>Three rude ones of the world: a youngster mocking an old man; a robust
person mocking an invalid; a wise man mocking a fool.</p>
<p>Three fair things that hide ugliness: good manners in the ill-favoured;
skill in a serf; wisdom in the misshapen.</p>
<p>Three sparks that kindle love: a face, demeanour, speech.</p>
<p>Three glories of a gathering: a beautiful wife, a good horse, a swift
hound.</p>
<p>Three fewnesses that are better than plenty: a fewness of fine words; a
fewness of cows in grass; a fewness of friends around good ale.</p>
<p>Three ruins of a tribe: a lying chief, a false judge, a lustful priest.</p>
<p>Three laughing-stocks of the world: an angry man, a jealous man, a
niggard.</p>
<p>Three signs of ill-breeding: a long visit, staring, constant questioning.</p>
<p>Three signs of a fop: the track of his comb in his hair; the track of his
teeth in his food; the track of his stick behind him.</p>
<p>Three idiots of a bad guest-house: an old hag with a chronic cough; a
brainless tartar of a girl; a hobgoblin of a gillie.</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p>
<p>Three things that constitute a physician: a complete cure; leaving no
blemish behind; a painless examination.</p>
<p>Three things betokening trouble: holding plough-land in common; performing
feats together; alliance in marriage.</p>
<p>Three nurses of theft: a wood, a cloak, night.</p>
<p>Three false sisters: 'perhaps,' 'may be,' 'I dare say.'</p>
<p>Three timid brothers: 'hush!' 'stop!' 'listen!'</p>
<p>Three sounds of increase: the lowing of a cow in milk; the din of a
smithy; the swish of a plough.</p>
<p>Three steadinesses of good womanhood: keeping a steady tongue; a steady
chastity; a steady housewifery.</p>
<p>Three excellences of dress: elegance, comfort, lastingness.</p>
<p>Three candles that illume every darkness: truth, nature, knowledge.</p>
<p>Three keys that unlock thoughts: drunkenness, trustfulness, love.</p>
<p>Three youthful sisters: desire, beauty, generosity.</p>
<p>Three aged sisters: groaning, chastity, ugliness.</p>
<p>Three nurses of high spirits: pride, wooing, drunkenness.</p>
<p>Three coffers whose depth is not known: the coffers of a chieftain, of the
Church, of a privileged poet.</p>
<p>Three things that ruin wisdom: ignorance, inaccurate knowledge,
forgetfulness.</p>
<p>Three things that are best for a chief: justice, peace, an army.</p>
<p>Three things that are worst for a chief: sloth, treachery, evil counsel.</p>
<p>Three services, the worst that a man can serve: serving a bad woman, a bad
lord, and bad land.</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p>
<p>Three lawful handbreadths: a handbreadth between shoes and hose, between
ear and hair, and between the fringe of the tunic and the knee.</p>
<p>Three angry sisters: blasphemy, strife, foul-mouthedness.</p>
<p>Three disrespectful sisters: importunity, frivolity, flightiness.</p>
<p>Three signs of a bad man: bitterness, hatred, cowardice.</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="FROM_THE_INSTRUCTIONS_OF_KING_CORMAC" id="FROM_THE_INSTRUCTIONS_OF_KING_CORMAC"></a>FROM THE INSTRUCTIONS OF KING CORMAC</h2>
<p>'O Cormac, grandson of Conn,' said Carbery, 'what are the dues of a chief
and of an ale-house?'</p>
<p>'Not hard to tell,' said Cormac.</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Good behaviour around a good chief,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lights to lamps,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Exerting oneself for the company,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A proper settlement of seats,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Liberality of dispensers,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A nimble hand at distributing,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Attentive service,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Music in moderation,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Short story-telling,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A joyous countenance,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Welcome to guests,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Silence during recitals,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Harmonious choruses.'<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>'O Cormac, grandson of Conn,' said Carbery, 'what were your habits when
you were a lad?'</p>
<p>'Not hard to tell,' said Cormac.</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'I was a listener in woods,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was a gazer at stars,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was blind where secrets were concerned,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was silent in a wilderness,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was talkative among many,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was mild in the mead-hall,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was stern in battle,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was gentle towards allies,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was a physician of the sick,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was weak towards the feeble,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was strong towards the powerful,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was not close lest I should be burdensome,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was not arrogant though I was wise,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was not given to promising though I was strong,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was not venturesome though I was swift,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I did not deride the old though I was young,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was not boastful though I was a good fighter,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I would not speak about any one in his absence,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I would not reproach, but I would praise,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I would not ask, but I would give,—<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>
<p>for it is through these habits that the young become old and kingly
warriors.'</p>
<p>'O Cormac, grandson of Conn,' said Carbery, 'what is the worst thing you
have seen?'</p>
<p>'Not hard to tell,' said Cormac. 'Faces of foes in the rout of battle.'</p>
<p>'O Cormac, grandson of Conn,' said Carbery, 'what is the sweetest thing
you have heard?'</p>
<p>'Not hard to tell,' said Cormac.</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'The shout of triumph after victory,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Praise after wages,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A lady's invitation to her pillow.'<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>'O Cormac, grandson of Conn,' said Carbery, 'how do you distinguish
women?'</p>
<p>'Not hard to tell,' said Cormac. 'I distinguish them, but I make no
difference among them.</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'They are crabbed as constant companions,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">haughty when visited,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">lewd when neglected,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">silly counsellors,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">greedy of increase;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">they have tell-tale faces,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">they are quarrelsome in company,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">steadfast in hate,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">forgetful of love,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">anxious for alliance,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">accustomed to slander,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">stubborn in a quarrel,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">not to be trusted with a secret,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">ever intent on pilfering,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">boisterous in their jealousy,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">ever ready for an excuse,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">on the pursuit of folly,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">slanderers of worth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">scamping their work,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">stiff when paying a visit,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">disdainful of good men,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">gloomy and stubborn,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">viragoes in strife,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">sorrowful in an ale-house,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">tearful during music,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">lustful in bed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">arrogant and disingenuous,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">abettors of strife,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">niggardly with food,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">rejecting wisdom,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">eager to make appointments,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">sulky on a journey,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">troublesome bedfellows,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">deaf to instruction,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">blind to good advice,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">fatuous in society,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">craving for delicacies,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">chary in their presents,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">languid when solicited,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">exceeding all bounds in keeping others waiting,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">tedious talkers,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">close practitioners,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">dumb on useful matters,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">eloquent on trifles.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Happy he who does not yield to them!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They should be dreaded like fire,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">they should be feared like wild beasts.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Woe to him who humours them!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Better to beware of them than to trust them,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">better to trample upon them than to fondle them,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">better to crush them than to cherish them.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They are waves that drown you,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">they are fire that burns you,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">they are two-edged weapons that cut you,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">they are moths for tenacity,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">they are serpents for cunning,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">they are darkness in light,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">they are bad among the good,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">they are worse among the bad.'<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p>
<p>'O Cormac, grandson of Conn,' said Carbery, 'what is the worst for the
body of man?'</p>
<p>'Not hard to tell,' said Cormac. 'Sitting too long, lying too long, long
standing, lifting heavy things, exerting oneself beyond one's strength,
running too much, leaping too much, frequent falls, sleeping with one's
leg over the bed-rail, gazing at glowing embers, wax, biestings, new ale,
bull-flesh, curdles, dry food, bog-water, rising too early, cold, sun,
hunger, drinking too much, eating too much, sleeping too much, sinning too
much, grief, running up a height, shouting against the wind, drying
oneself by a fire, summer-dew, winter-dew, beating ashes, swimming on a
full stomach, sleeping on one's back, foolish romping.'</p>
<p>'O Cormac, grandson of Conn,' said Carbery, 'what is the worst pleading
and arguing?'</p>
<p>'Not hard to tell,' said Cormac.</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Contending against knowledge,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">contending without proofs,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">taking refuge in bad language,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">a stiff delivery,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">a muttering speech,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">hair-splitting,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">uncertain proofs,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">despising books,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">turning against custom,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">shifting one's pleading,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">inciting the mob,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">blowing one's own trumpet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">shouting at the top of one's voice.'<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p>
<p>'O Cormac, grandson of Conn,' said Carbery, 'who are the worst for whom
you have a comparison?'</p>
<p>'Not hard to tell,' said Cormac.</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'A man with the impudence of a satirist,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">with the pugnacity of a slave-woman,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">with the carelessness of a dog,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">with the conscience of a hound,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">with a robber's hand,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">with a bull's strength,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">with the dignity of a judge,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">with keen ingenious wisdom,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">with the speech of a stately man,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">with the memory of an historian,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">with the behaviour of an abbot,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">with the swearing of a horse-thief,<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>and he wise, lying, grey-haired, violent, swearing, garrulous, when he
says "the matter is settled, I swear, you shall swear."'</p>
<p>'O Cormac, grandson of Conn,' said Carbery, 'I desire to know how I shall
behave among the wise and the foolish, among friends and strangers, among
the old and the young, among the innocent and the wicked.'</p>
<p>'Not hard to tell,' said Cormac.</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Be not too wise, nor too foolish,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">be not too conceited, nor too diffident,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">be not too haughty, nor too humble,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">be not too talkative, nor too silent,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">be not too hard, nor too feeble.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">If you be too wise, one will expect too much of you;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">if you be too foolish, you will be deceived;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">if you be too conceited, you will be thought vexatious;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">if you be too humble, you will be without honour;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">if you be too talkative, you will not be heeded;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">if you be too silent, you will not be regarded;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">if you be too hard, you will be broken;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">if you be too feeble, you will be crushed.'<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="NOTES" id="NOTES"></a>NOTES</h2>
<p>'<a href="#THE_ISLES_OF_THE_HAPPY">The Isles of the Happy</a>' and '<a href="#THE_SEA-GODS_ADDRESS_TO_BRAN">The Sea-god's Address to Bran</a>' are poems
interspersed in the prose tale called 'The Voyage of Bran son of Febal to
the Land of the Living.' For text and translation see my edition (London:
D. Nutt, 1895), pp. 4 and 16. The tale was probably first written down
early in the eighth, perhaps late in the seventh century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_TRYST_AFTER_DEATH">The Tryst after Death</a>' (<i>Reicne Fothaid Canainne</i>) belongs to the ninth
century. For the original text and translation see my 'Fianaigecht, a
collection of hitherto inedited Irish poems and tales relating to Finn and
his Fiana' (Dublin: Hodges, Figgis and Co., 1910), p. 10 ff.</p>
<p>'<a href="#DEIRDRES_FAREWELL_TO_SCOTLAND">Deirdre's Farewell to Scotland</a>' and '<a href="#DEIRDRES_LAMENT">Deirdre's Lament</a>' are taken from the
well-known tale called 'The Death of the Children of Usnech.' The text
which is here rendered is that of the Middle-Irish version edited and
translated by Whitley Stokes (<i>Irische Texte</i>, ii., Leipzig, 1884), pp.
127 and 145. My rendering follows in the main that of Stokes.</p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_HOSTS_OF_FAERY">The Hosts of Faery</a>.'—From the tale called 'Laegaire mac Crimthainn's
Visit to the Fairy Realm of Mag Mell,' the oldest copy of which is found
in the Book of Leinster, a MS. of the twelfth century, p. 275 <i>b</i>. See
S.H. O'Grady's <i>Silva Gadelica</i> (Williams and Norgate, 1892), vol. i. p.
256; vol. ii. p. 290, where, however, the verse is not translated.</p>
<p>The two poems from the '<a href="#FROM_THE_VISION_OF_MAC_CONGLINNE">Vision of MacConglinne</a>' are taken from my
translation of the twelfth-century burlesque so called (D. Nutt, 1892),
pp. 34 and 78.</p>
<p>'<a href="#A_DIRGE_FOR_KING_NIALL_OF_THE_NINE_HOSTAGES">A Dirge for King Niall of the Nine Hostages</a>.'—Text and translation in
<i>Festschrift für Whitley Stokes</i> (Harrassowitz, Leipzig, 1900), p. 1 ff.,
and in the <i>Gaelic Journal</i>, x.p. 578 ff. Late eighth or early ninth
century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_SONG_OF_CARROLLS_SWORD_ad_909">The Song of Carroll's Sword</a>.'—Edited and translated in <i>Revue Celtique</i>,
xx. p. 7 ff., and again in the <i>Gaelic Journal</i>, x.p. 613. Dallán mac
Móre, to whom the poem is ascribed, was chief bard to King Carroll
(Cerball) mac Muiregan of Leinster, who reigned from about <span class="smcap">a.d.</span> 885 to
909.</p>
<p>'<a href="#EOCHAID_ON_THE_DEATH_OF_KING_AED_MAC_DOMNAILL_UA_NEILL20">Eochaid's Lament</a>.'—Text published in <i>Archiv für celtische
Lexikographie</i> (Niemeyer, Halle a. S., 1907), vol. iii. p. 304.</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p>
<p>'<a href="#ERARD_MAC_COISSE_ON_THE_DEATH_OF_KING_MALACHY_II23">Lament on King Malachy II</a>.'—<i>Ibid.</i>, p. 305.</p>
<p>'<a href="#KING_AND_HERMIT">King and Hermit</a>.'—First published and translated by me under that title
with Messrs. D. Nutt, 1901. The language is that of the tenth century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#SONG_OF_THE_SEA">Song of the Sea</a>.'—Text and translation in <i>Otia Merseiana</i> (the
publication of the Arts Faculty, University College, Liverpool), vol. ii.
p. 76 ff. Though the poem is ascribed to the celebrated poet Rumann, who
died in 748, its language points to the eleventh century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#SUMMER_HAS_COME">Summer has come</a>.'—Text and translation in my <i>Four Songs of Summer and
Winter</i> (D. Nutt, 1903), p. 20 ff. The piece probably dates from the tenth
century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#SONG_OF_SUMMER">Song of Summer</a>.'—<i>Ibid.</i>, p. 8 ff., and <i>Ériu</i>, the Journal of the
School of Irish Learning, i. p. 186. The date is the ninth century, I
think.</p>
<p>'<a href="#SUMMER_IS_GONE">Summer is gone</a>.'—<i>Ibid.</i>, p. 14. Ninth century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#A_SONG_OF_WINTER">A Song of Winter</a>.'—From the story called 'The Hiding of the Hill of
Howth,' first printed and translated by me in <i>Revue Celtique</i>, xi. p. 125
ff. Probably tenth century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#ARRAN">Arran</a>.'—Taken from the thirteenth-century prose tale called <i>Agallamh na
Senórach</i>, edited and translated by S.H. O'Grady in <i>Silva Gadelica</i>. The
poem refers to the island in the Firth of Clyde.</p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_SONG_OF_CREDE_DAUGHTER_OF_GUARE">The Song of Crede, daughter of Guare</a>.'—See text and translation in
<i>Ériu</i>, ii. p. 15 ff. Probably tenth century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#LIADIN_AND_CURITHIR">Liadin and Curithir</a>.'—First published and translated by me under that
title with Messrs. D. Nutt, 1902. It belongs to the ninth century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_DEERS_CRY">The Deer's Cry</a>.'—For the text and translation see Stokes and Strachan,
<i>Thesaurus Palaeohibernicus</i> (University Press, Cambridge), vol. ii. p.
354. I have adopted the translation there given except in some details.
The hymn in the form in which it has come down to us cannot be earlier
than the eighth century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#AN_EVEN-SONG">An Evening Song</a>.'—Printed in my <i>Selections from Old-Irish Poetry</i>, p.
1. Though ascribed to Patrick, the piece cannot be older than the tenth
century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#PATRICKS_BLESSING_ON_MUNSTER">Patrick's Blessing on Munster</a>.'—Taken from the <i>Tripartite Life of
Patrick</i>, edited by Whitley Stokes (Rolls Series, London, 1887), p. 216.
Not earlier than the ninth century.</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_HERMITS_SONG">The Hermit's Song</a>.'—See <i>Ériu</i>, vol. i. p. 39, where the Irish text will
be found. The poem dates from the ninth century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#A_PRAYER_TO_THE_VIRGIN">A Prayer to the Virgin</a>.'—See Strachan's edition of the original in
<i>Ériu</i>, i. p. 122. There is another copy in the Bodleian MS. Laud 615, p.
91, from which I have taken some better readings. The poem is hardly
earlier than the tenth century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#EVES_LAMENT">Eve's Lament</a>.'—See <i>Ériu</i>, iii. p. 148. The date is probably the late
tenth or early eleventh century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#ON_THE_FLIGHTINESS_OF_THOUGHT">On the Flightiness of Thought</a>.'—See <i>Ériu</i>, iii. p. 13. Tenth century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#TO_CRINOG">To Crinog</a>.'—The Irish text was published by me in the <i>Zeitschrift für
celtische Philologie</i>, vol. vi. p. 257. The date of the poem is the tenth
century. Crinog was evidently what is known in the literature of early
Christianity as <ins class="greek" title="iagapêtê">ιαγαπητη</ins>, <i>virgo subintroducta</i> (<ins class="greek" title="syneisaktos">συνεισακτοσ</ins>)
or <i>conhospita</i>, <i>i.e.</i> a nun who lived with a priest, monk,
or hermit like a sister or 'spiritual wife' (<i>uxor spiritualis</i>). This
practice, which was early suppressed and abandoned everywhere else, seems
to have survived in the Irish Church till the tenth century. See on the
whole subject H. Achelis, <i>Virgines Subintroductae</i>, ein Beitrag zu i.,
Kor. vii. (Leipzig, 1902).</p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_DEVILS_TRIBUTE_TO_MOLING">The Devil's Tribute to Moling</a>.'—For text and translation see Whitley
Stokes's <i>Goidelica</i>, 2nd ed., p. 180, and his edition of <i>Félire
Oingusso</i>, p. 154 ff. I have in the main followed Stokes's rendering.</p>
<p>'<a href="#MAELISUS_HYMN_TO_THE_ARCHANGEL_MICHAEL">Maelisu's Hymn to the Archangel Michael</a>.'—Text and translation in the
<i>Gaelic Journal</i>, vol. iv. p. 56. Maelisu ua Brolcháin was a writer of
religious poetry both in Irish and Latin, who died in 1056.</p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_MOTHERS_LAMENT_AT_THE_SLAUGHTER_OF_THE_INNOCENTS">The Mothers' Lament at the Slaughter of the Innocents</a>.'—See text and
translation in the <i>Gaelic Journal</i>, iv. p. 89. The piece probably belongs
to the eleventh century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#COLUM_CILLES_GREETING_TO_IRELAND">Colum Cille's Greeting to Ireland</a>.'—From Reeves' edition of Adamnan's
<i>Life of St. Columba</i>, p. 285. The poem, like most of those ascribed to
this saint, is late, belonging probably to the twelfth century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_LAMENT_OF_THE_OLD_WOMAN_OF_BEARE">The Lament of the Old Woman of Beare</a>.'—Text and translation in <i>Otia
Merseiana</i>, i. p. 119 ff. The language of the poem points to the late tenth
century.</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_DESERTED_HOME">The Deserted Home</a>.'—See <i>Gaelic Journal</i>, iv. p. 42. Probably eleventh
century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#COLUM_CILLE_THE_SCRIBE">Colum Cille the Scribe</a>.'—See <i>Gaelic Journal</i>, viii. p. 49. Probably
eleventh century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_MONK_AND_HIS_PET_CAT">The Monk and his Pet Cat</a>.'—Text and translation in <i>Thesaurus
Palaeohibernicus</i>, ii. p. 293. I have made my own translation. The
language is that of the late eighth or early ninth century.</p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_CRUCIFIXION">The Crucifixion</a>.'—From <i>Leabhar Breac</i>, p. 262 <i>marg. sup.</i> and p. 168
<i>marg. inf.</i></p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_PILGRIM_AT_ROME">Pilgrimage to Rome</a>.'—See <i>Thes. Pal.</i>, ii. p. 296.</p>
<p>'<a href="#ON_A_DEAD_SCHOLAR">On a Dead Scholar</a>.'—From the notes to the <i>Félire Oingusso</i>, ed. Wh.
Stokes (Henry Bradshaw Society, vol. xxix.), p. 198.</p>
<p>'<a href="#HOSPITALITY">Hospitality</a>.'—From the Brussels MS., 5100-4, p. 5, and <i>Leabhar Breac</i>,
p. 93, <i>marg. sup.</i></p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_SCRIBE">The Scribe</a>.'—See <i>Thes. Pal.</i>, ii. p. 290.</p>
<p>'<a href="#MOLING_SANG_THIS">Moling sang this</a>.'—From the notes to the <i>Félire Oingusso</i>, ed. Wh.
Stokes, p. 150.</p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_CHURCH_BELL_IN_THE_NIGHT">The Church Bell</a>.'—See <i>Irische Texte</i>, iii. p. 155.</p>
<p>'<a href="#THE_BLACKBIRD">The Blackbird</a>.'—From <i>Leabhar Breac</i>, p. 36, <i>marg. sup.</i></p>
<p>The '<a href="#FROM_THE_TRIADS_OF_IRELAND">Triads of Ireland</a>.' Edited and translated by me in the Todd Lecture
Series of the Royal Irish Academy, vol. xiii. (Hodges, Figgis and Co.,
Dublin, 1906). The collection was made towards the end of the ninth
century.</p>
<p>The '<a href="#FROM_THE_INSTRUCTIONS_OF_KING_CORMAC">Instructions of King Cormac</a>.' Edited and translated by me in the Todd
Lecture Series, vol. xv. (Dublin, 1909). Early ninth century.</p>
<p class='center'>
Printed by T. and <span class="smcap">A. Constable</span>, Printers to His Majesty<br />
at the Edinburgh University Press<br />
</p>
<pre>
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