Mr. Sigcrson and Sir Thomas Grattan Esmonde arriving at the Senate yesterday* .MI v 1 h;it there v \ -aad upBOi sim }t IIMJJ pit's A'qd.inj sasnoH jo AVMV '0} J8ui.uaj3,r SBAV oq en; jo sfluipuy ai^ aspiju.) 04 jo tnuu.i on; o)U[ A'aiubui punkas \: 04 jo :juto'd B'UO '3[a*IO p.iuqqii[ UcllIJA jo not;EOoiiB 01(4 i?uip.iT?iio.i ^04 jo sjaqiuoiu aq4 jo auo jo sno 04 SjfBA\[T? q:>ns tit .inooo paj.inOOO SAVAiJB \JV\1 SI IM. passa.idxa SBAV uoip -sip jo jBap pooa -e puu uoijoaj.js i; pq da44iuiiuo;) aqj^ -sostioq '%% JQJ s .40 uorpaps; aqi q4jAv :\\v.o\~> qoiqAi -a.i suoiAa.id B 04 pa.uajaj 4joda.i aq - -noq jo psodsip aq> at{4 no IIOUUOQ jo .i'apjo aq4 n- 334411 saijddut; puu 'sdoipjjjo^ Stustioj{ ', ^jodaj; aq4 jo uo^dopB'aq) p^\utu V -moj oq4 jo ueiuJttjq.j 'iqdaii;^ _ 'paptsaarf M pjo r j; aq; joj snaua) tunooj 'aujAjj -y- paqacaj 6u;3q uoispap Aue ;noq;i Bu!)39Ui 4X3U 04 poujnofpK SBM jr ;$3A uojiBJodjoQ aij; jo Bu|;3a p3S)t2J SBM B3JB Sp|3lj 1 SJ9L|40 3i|; uo sasnoq 014; yj 3W3HOS SQ13IJ Nnena NI ONisn Mr. Sigerson HI in ;dical topics, aim puoiisiit-u sofB on Irish historical subjects. Lori contributed an introduction t-6 D son's publication on the treatment tical prisoners. Dr. Sigerson r. President of the National Literarj for some years. He wa connected old Catholic University Medical Sc is Professor of Biology in the University. SENATE'S FIRST CHAIRMAN. Dr. Sigerson was one of the 30 nominated by the President, and distinction of being the first tc over the deliberations of the Secon lie was elected temporary chairnu opening sitting. During his briel office he was an assiduous attendai sittings, wlvere his scholarly knowl ripe judgment were greatly value There are now two vacanci^ One of the Sidhe By Mary Kennedy LET her rest, Winged, wild thing Blown on the storm. Do not fear Her wide sad eyes, Her lightning glances. Have you never heard Of a creature lost in air Drawn by a flame? Watch! She moves to the fire Grateful, meek. Blow on her fingers Frozen with cold! Her heart is colder. If you are gentle Perhaps she will speak, If you are kind She may forget sorrow. Let her rest now She will be gone tomorrow. When morning comes She will fade into mist. Only for this night Has she need of shelter. . Guard your heart well, She will try to surprise, To bewitch, to bind, To take it with a spell, With an ember and an ash, For she could be cured By its strength, Of all she has endured. Pity will not hold her, Only love could change her Into simple woman. You are not in danger If she leaves unkissed. Green in her eyes, Bronze in her hair. Do you see the flash Of fool's fire there? It is such a light As lures a man to doom . . . But you are safe, my darling, In your little room. BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL The Abbot of Derry Lines, as from a lyttel booke' of Balettys and Dyties, enscribed to Richard Nix, Bishoppe, by his admyring, faithful Friend, John Skelton, Rector of Diss: By JOHN BENNETT The Abbot of Derry Hates Satan and Sin. 'Tis strange of him, very; They're both his blood-kin: And the Devil go bury the Abbot of Derry, And bury him deep, say I! The Abbot of Derry Has woman nor wine. 'Tis kind of him, very, To leave them all mine: And the Devil go bury the Abbot of Derry, And bury him deep, say I! Says the Abbot of Derry, "To-morrow ye die!" "Eat, drink, and be merry!" Say Dolly and I : And the Devil go bury the Abbot of Derry, And bury him deep, say I! The Abbot of Derry . Says, "All flesh is grass!" Sure abbots should know, For the Abbot's an ass! And the Devil go bury the Abbot of Derry, And bury him deep, say I! The Abbot of Derry Says, "Love is a knave!" I shall love when the Abbot Lies deep in his grave: And the Devil go bury the Abbot of Derry, And bury him deep, say I! Copyright ~by the Author (S A m & A M, Tike Celebrated Irish Bard. BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL EXAMPLES OF THE POETIC LITERATURE OF ERINN DONE INTO ENGLISH AFTER THE METRES AND MODES OF THE GAEL BY GEORGE SIGERSON, M.D., F.R.U.I. PRESIDENT OF THE NATIONAL LITERARY SOCIETY OF IRELAND, CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF LA SOCIETE D'ANTHROPOLOGIE, LA SOCIETE CLINIQUE, AND LA SOCIETE DE PSYCHOLOGIE PHYSIOLOGIQUE DE PARIS, ETC. LONDON T. FISHER UNWIN PATERNOSTER SQUARE 1897 The portrait of O'Carolan, the minstrel-bard, is taken from a print engraved and published by John Martyn, Dublin, in 1822. [All rights reserved.] Stack Annex im TO SIR CHARLES GAVAN DUFFY, PRESIDENT OF THE IRISH LITERARY SOCIETY OF LONDON, A REPRESENTATIVE OF THE GAEL, AND TO DR. DOUGLAS HYDE, PRESIDENT OF THE GAELIC LEAGUE OF DUBLIN, A DESCENDANT OF THE GALL, tbfs boofc is Dedicated BY ONE OF THE GALL-GAEL, PRESIDENT OF THE NATIONAL LITERARY SOCIETY OF IRELAND. 2061400 Eudoxus. But tell me (I pray you) have they any art in their com- positions ? or bee they anything wittie or well savoured, as poemes should be ? Irentzus. Yea truely, I have caused divers of them to be trans- lated unto me, that I might understand them, and surely they savoured of sweet wit and good invention, . . . sprinkled with some pretty flowers of their naturall device, which gave good grace and comelinesse unto them. EDMUND SPENSER, A View of the State of Ireland, 1596. Will no one tell me what she sings Perhaps her plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago. WORDSWORTH. If thou, as I, but knew the tale It sings to all the Ancient Isle, Thy tears would rise, and thou wouldst fail To mind thy God, a while. OlSiN to a Critic. CONTENTS. PAGE INTRODUCTION i I. LAYS OF MILESIAN INVADERS. The Incantation 93 First Triumph-Song 94 The First Elegy 96 II. THE CUCHULAINN PERIOD. Fand's Welcome to Cuchulainn 97 Liban's Song 99 Fand's Farewell to Cuchulainn 100 Cuchulainn's Appeal to Ferdiad IOI Cuchulainn laments Ferdiad 103 Queen Mave's Envoys 105 Deirdre's Farewell to Alba 107 The Cloud over Emain 109 Lament for the Sons of Usnach no III. THE FIONN PERIOD. Dawn of Summer 115 Winter's Approach 116 A Warrior's Duties 1 16 Things Delightful 119 The Cold Night of Innisfail 120 The Fair Fort of Crede 122 The Dirge of Gael 124 Where is the Sweetest Music ? 126 IV. OSSIANIC : AGE OF LAMENTATIONS. After the Fianna 129 Xll CONTENTS. PAGE The Blackbird of Daricarn 130 The Household of Finn 132 Pleasant Arann 133 Solace in Winter 134 V. THE CHRISTIAN DAWN. The Guardsman's Cry 137 The Children of Lir 140 On the Waters of Moyle 141 The Return of the Children of Lir 142 The Isle of Delight 144 Bran's Voyage to the Isle of Delight 148 VI. -VII. EARLY CHRISTIAN. Jesukin 153 King Cellach regrets his Student-Life 154 St. Cellach's Death Song 156 Remembering Erinn 159 The Fall of the Book-Satchels 161 Delights in Erinn 162 Conall dead 166 The Mothers of Bethlehem 168 The Song of Satan 170 Triumph of Faith 173 VIII. GAEL AND NORSE. The Blackbird's Song 177 The Heavenly Pilot 178 Niall's Dirge 179 The Ruined Nest 180 The Sea-Maiden's Vengeance 182 Lay of Norse-Irish Sea-kings 185 " Take these Heads " 189 The Fairy Forewarning at Clontarf 190 Holy Spirit 192 Deus Meus 193 Alexander the Great 195 The Vision of Viands 197 CONTENTS. Xlll PAGE IX. GAEL AND NORMAN, ETC. In the Heart of Jesus . 201 Teach, O Trinity ! 202 The Harp that ransomed . 204 The Exiled Head 207 Womankind 208 The Failing Art 209 Love Untold 211 A King's Lesson 212 Farewell to Innisfail 216 X. SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. Dirge of Oliver Grace 219 The Flight of the Earls 222 Two Champions of Christendom 225 Lament for Eoghan Rua O'Neill 229 Shaun O'Dwyer of the Glen 231 The Munster Knight 234 The Flower of Maidens Brown 235 Eivlin a Ruin 237 The Fairy Land of Promise 239 Mabel ni Kelly 242 XI. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY : PATRIOTIC. The Fair Hills of Eire 245 The Brightness of Brightness 247 The Dawn of Day 249 Over the Hills and far away 251 The Spirit of Song 253 The Dear White Youth 256 The Cruiskeen Laun 258 Shiela gal ni Connolan 260 The Joyful Returning 264 The Song of Echo 266 The Forest Fair 268 In Praise of the Gaelic 270 Grainne Mael 271 The Sky-Maiden 272 Flora McDonald 274 XIV CONTENTS. PAGE A Health to King Philip 275 The Rover 276 Song of the dead Insurgent. 1 798 279 The Slight Red Steed 281 The Gay and Gallant Gael 283 XII. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY : SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS, ETC. Ceann duv Dilis 285 The Dark Girl of the Glen 286 The Bard and Misfortune 287 A Far Farewell 288 Lament for O'Carolan the Minstrel 289 The Dells of Orrerie 291 Maire ni Milleoin 293 The Sweet Little Cuckoo 295 My Wishes 297 The Cluster of Curls 298 The Flower of Love 301 Doreen le Poer 303 The Red Fellow's Wife , 305 The Beloved Gaelic 307 Fairy Mary Barry 308 Love's last Appeal 309 Shaun O'Dee 312 A Rule of Life 313 The Caoine of the Children 313 Down by the Strand 319 The Fickle Fair 320 A Fair Foe 321 An Epigram 322 Farewell to the Merry Monger 322 The Visit of Death 324 A Compliment 326 Birds on a Bough 327 Lovely Loch Lein 328 The Victor Maiden 329 Axioms .....'.. 330 An Elegy 33 Love's Sunshine 333 CONTENTS. XV PAGE " Oro Mor, O Moreen " 334 You remember that Evening 336 The Shepherd's Pet 337 My Summer 338 A Wish , 338 Love's Despair 339 XIII. FOLK-SONGS, LULLABIES, OCCUPATION-CHANTS, AND MARINER'S SONG. Irish Lullaby 343 Fairy Lullaby 344 " Babe will be uneasy " 346 Smith's Song 348 Ploughman's Rime 349 Spinners' Song 350 Mallo Lero 351 Oro, O Darling Fair 352 The Mariner's Hymn 353 XIV. PARAPHRASES FROM THE GAELIC. The King's Lay 357 The Blessing of Dublin 370 APPENDIX 375 V BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. INTRODUCTION. MAY not a buried literature have claims upon our attention ? If it be of interest to delve and discover a statue or a city, long concealed, should it not be more attractive to come upon a kingdom, where long-forgotten peoples live, love, and act ? What a stir there would be, could some delver declare that he had, in his researches underground, discovered a lost literature of Gaul or of Germany, and in it the song, story, and music of nations speaking for them- selves, whom now we know but by the description of alien foes. Such a treasure-trove is beyond hope. The Romans went over the regions they subjugated, like the sands of Sahara over meadows, destroying all that was of native growth. Of the Bards they preserved nothing but the name. From the Gauls they adopted articles of attire, their sculptors depicted the native warriors with torques and truis, but their men of letters saved nothing from the wreck of mental work. The term "barbarians" sufficed then as now to sway opinion. Let us, who are B 2 INTRODUCTION. of their descendants, call them instead the " Free Nations," and remember that, however simple their customs, they never committed deeds like those which deluged Rome with blood. Nor did they annihilate its literature. It is impossible to suppose that these Free Nations had no lays or legends which could have been preserved, and it is equally impossible to believe that there was no diffusion of knowledge between the classic and the non-classic worlds. Their frontiers were not rigid and impassable. Six centuries before the Christian era, the Greeks founded a colony at what is now Marseilles, and were in contact with the Celts. A century later, Hero- dotus described their territory ; later still, Aristotle told of their manners and customs, and Pytheas made his voyage to Britain. They often went over the borders in war. Five times in the fourth century B.C. the Gauls invaded Italy. They conquered Rome, and settled in Liguria, Istria, etc., founding Milan and other civic centres. Manlius got his name "Torquatus" because he captured a torque or collar of gold from "a proud invader." The unresting Celts marched into Greece in the third century; menaced Delphi, and made a settle- ment in Phrygian Galatia. 1 Then came the Roman outflow, when the tumultus gallicus was proclaimed, and Cisalpine Gaul conquered. The legions advanced against the transalpine Celts, and some fifty years before our era, Caesar had formed the young Celtic chieftains 1 The Galatians still spoke Celtic in St. Jerome's time. INTRODUCTION. 3 into the Legion of the Lark, made them citizens of Rome, and admitted their magnates to the Senate. Under such a policy there was hope that something of Celtic knowledge and culture might be saved, more especially as attention was given to the position and influence of the druids and bards. And now I come through a region of facts to a supposition which may seem bold, though it is simply that some of the bardic work was noted and preserved. We know with what interest Caesar's fortunes in Gaul were followed by Cicero. Philosopher as well as orator, Cicero studied the religious rites of the Celtic druids. This he could do at first hand, for he was personally acquainted in Rome with the Chief Druid of the Aedui, Divitiacus, whom he es- teemed. Now as Cicero the philosopher studied druid rites, is it not probable that Cicero the poet studied bardic methods ? His opportunity was at hand, in the person of an intelligent expert ; 1 and his inquiring mind was not likely to stop short when there was question of exploring a new system of verse-structure. Why should not he, anticipating Spenser, have caused divers Celtic poems to be translated for him ? Lastly, I venture to suggest, temerarious though the suggestion be, that Cicero not only studied a specimen of Celtic verse, but imitated it. The evidence which I adduce in support of 1 Cicero (after the forum) and young Csesar studied under the Gaul Gnipho, a grammarian and rhetor (B.C. 88) ; they heard the great actor Roscius, a Gaul, and Cicero regretted that he had been too young to hear the Gaul L. Plotius, the earliest teacher of rhetoric in Rome. 4 INTRODUCTION. this view may be found in those much-abused lines which pained Quintilian and scandalize Cicero's admirers : " Cedant arma togae, concedat laurea linguae, O fortunatam natam me consule Romam. " These verses, in the eyes of some critics, brand Cicero as a poetaster. But they should have remembered that a man of his genius, and a true poet, might compose such lines as an experiment in verse-structure. Let us sup- pose, for a moment, that they were written in imitation of Celtic verse, and that this verse was identical in form with an ancient Irish quatrain. Then we arrange the lines thus : " Cedant arma tog# Concedat laurea lingiuz : O fortunatam natam Me consule Romam." Now, if we test this by the strict laws of an ancient Gaelic quatrain, it amazes one to find that the Latin lines fulfil certain requirements, (i.) It is composed of a leading and of a closing couplet (the sense, which may be complete in each couplet, must be complete in the quatrain). (2.) The end-words rime by their vowels ; the rime being monosyllabic in the first couplet, and dis- syllabic in the second. [If we adopt the reading " laudi " instead of " linguae," then the rime becomes dissyllabic in the first couplet also ; as " laudi " is in true asonance with " togae."] (3.) Two words in some lines should begin by vowels, or by the same consonant. This alliteration is perfect in the second line, and is INTRODUCTION. 5 secured in the third, by the repetition of the letter " n." Its apparent (but permissible) absence in the first and last lines makes the matter more curious still, be- cause we get class-correspondence in its stead; for the initials c and t in the first line, and m and r (rr), in the last, obey the Gaelic law of correspondence. Are these remarkable similarities of structure noth ng but a chance coincidence ? If so, my theory that Cicero made an experiment in verse-structure on a Celtic model vanishes, leaving in its place, however, the greater difficulty of explaining how so complex a coincid- ence could occur, and how so skilled a word-workman, and so eminent a poet, could prove so inexpert. His lines have provoked ridicule; they would command interest, perhaps admiration, if his purpose were as the theory suggests it may have been. As in the fossiliferous rock we find moulded the delicate form of a plant, whose substance has long disappeared, we should then discover the graces of a verse of vanished Gallic, petrified in a lasting Latin mould. Whatever hope, if any, there was of a development amongst the Romans of an intellectual interest in Celtic life and literature was extinguished by the policy of Augustus ; Rome, dominating men and minds, latinized Gaul, advanced her eagles into Britain, and confronted the Celts in their last strongholds. Ireland, then in her heroic age, fomented, fostered, and kept up immortal hostility against the common foe ; and, in alliance with the Caledonians and independent Britons, shook the 6 INTRODUCTION. invader's power. Qaudian, in his praise of Stilicho, de- clares the fact. Possibly Roman persistence and dis- cipline would have at last prevailed, had not the out- burst of the turbulent Teuton tribes saved the Celts ! It was fortunate, indeed, that one island on the western verge of Europe escaped the Roman eagles. Agricola, while in Britain, often thought of crossing the Irish Sea with his forces, so that Rome might dominate all, and liberty be put quite out of sight. Had he gone, Ireland also would have seen her mental independence and all its fruits submerged. As it is, we have, in her ancient literature, the noblest monument which witnesses to the intellect of the Ultra-Roman world. Ireland is thus in letters, as once in arms, the champion of the Free Nations. Hence, the interest which attaches to the literature of Ireland is manifold. It does not only reveal the inner natures of the inhabitants of the island at different epochs, before the coming of the Christian faith, during its progress, and since, but it also enables us to gain some glimpse into the homes of other nations Teutons as well as Celts whose lamps were extinguished. Unhappily for history, that literature was long buried in neglect. Then, for a time, it lay locked in an archaic language, like some splendid missal, claspt in covers of wrought silver which could not be opened. For years, however, the keen and capable minds of scholars, in Germany, France, Italy, and Ireland, have been at work, and have rendered into the modern languages the con- INTRODUCTION. 7 tents of many most ancient and interesting documents. Now, at last, these are accessible though sometimes not readily, for they must often be sought for in the pages of foreign periodicals. One department of Irish literature possesses special and singular interest. This is the section of poetry. The creation of a system of verse-structure, absolutely independent of that of Greece and Rome, was an achievement which must command increasing attention as it becomes more known. It is indeed difficult to become familiar with it, so elaborate did that system become. The introduction and use of rime as an art- method constitute an epoch in the history of European literature. The importance of the innovation becomes greater the more we consider the mastery exhibited, and the very subtle and refined modes invented for producing desired effects. It is impossible here to do more than to make allusion to this subject, for it would require a treatise to deal with it in an adequate manner. We know the ingenuity that the ancient Irish dis- played in their ornaments of gold and silver, which command the admiration of all workers in the precious metals, as well as of all artists. Those who have seen the illuminated initials of the " Book of Kells," know the wonderful grace of form shown in the interwoven lines, and the exquisite taste displayed in the tints which still freshly adorn them. A similar ingenuity, grace, artistic power, delicacy, and taste, were employed in the service of poetry. 8 INTRODUCTION. No translator can hope to reproduce, in English, the finer traits of this art, because these demand a language of open vowels, and other aids. This fact must be remembered, for it gave the advantage of subtle and elusive rime, without tiring the ear. But though such refined graces must be sought for in the originals, some- thing may be done to represent the form, style, and methods of the bards, whilst keeping faithful to the spirit and substance of their lays. With this view the accompanying collection has been made. It does not, of course, represent all diversities of verse-forms, but it does reproduce some which will be novel. Those who are wont to associate Irish poetry with effusiveness of thought and luxuriance of language will be surprised to find that bardic poetry was characterized by classic reserve in thought, form, and expression. This, perhaps, is not the least message of the ancient bards to their successors. The poems have been placed in chronological order so far as may be. This is done tentatively in the case of the earlier lays, for their date is uncertain, though ancient. I. The series begins by the strange incantation attributed to Amergin, the poet-druid of those southern invaders of Ireland known as Milesians. In structure the verse is peculiar, the most striking feature being the riming of the last word of each line with the first word of the succeed- ing line. This rime is often complete : sometimes only the vowels rime. There is alliteration, also ; two words INTRODUCTION. 9 in each line begin either by vowels or by the same con- sonants. Conaclon is the name given to this form of verse, which has been occasionally imitated in later days. Usually, however, later bards chose rather to make the last word of the stanza rime with the first of a succeeding stanza. It was very usual to unite the first and last word of an entire poem by a link of rime. Conaclon rime, such as Amergin's, would necessarily be rare in literature. In modern times we have the poem of Marc de Papillon, Sieur de Lasphrise (A.D. 1597), who vaunts it as his own invention. He wrote : " Fallait-il que le ciel me rendit amoureux Amoureux, jouissant d'une beaute craintive, Craintive a recevoir la douceur excessive Excessive," etc. In this case, indeed, the rime is obtained by repeating the word in a somewhat different sense; but, curiously enough, in this he caught the method sometimes used by Amergin. Samuel Lover, in his " Fairy Child," makes interrupted use of this iteration. In mediaeval Latin verse, which must have been largely manipulated by Irish monks, we find some forms which recall conaclon. Thus, in -versus immediati, the last syllables of one line rime with the first of the next : " Si fugias obscoenas poenas ternas baratorwztt Quorum pressurae durae fuerunt mihi curae." If we divide the verses, as indicated, the resemblance becomes still greater. The "Triumph Song of Amergin "is remarkable in that, 10 INTRODUCTION. for the most part, it appears not only to dispense with rime, but to reject it. This is the " Rosg," which con- sists of short impetuous sentences, rhythmical though unrimed, designed to express or to stir up vehement en- thusiasm. It was not seldom used, in the elder epoch, in framing war-odes. This is, in fact, the earliest example of blank verse which is supposed to be a modern invention. It is exceedingly remarkable that blank verse should have been invented by a people to whom the introduction of rime is peculiarly due. Still, though the short lines end as blank verse ends, there is, I believe, rime of a kind here intended by the bard, though it has escaped notice. The first words of the short verses are identical : in the translation " I," in the original "Am" (I am). This constitutes what I would call "Entrance-rime" to distinguish it from "End- rime." That it is intended to impress the ear I infer from the fact that where it is absent, in the longer lines, alliterative-rime is often introduced. This entrance-rime has been used by moderns without special rime-intention, as a rhetoric mode. Thus, in Sabine's apostrophe to her native town : " Albe, oil j'ai commence de respirer le jour, Albe, mon cher pays et mon premier amour," etc. Again, in Camille's striking invective : ' ' Rome, unique objet de mon ressentiment, Rome, a qui vient ton bras d'immoler mon amant, J INTRODUCTION. 1 1 Rome, qui t'a vu naitre et que ton coeur adore, Rome, enfin que je hais parcequ'elle t'honore." The first Elegy ascribed to the nephew of Miled (or Milesius), archaic in form, possesses alliteration and rime, both asonant and consonant, in an elaborated manner. II. We come next, over a wide time-chasm, to the Cuchulainn l Period. From intrinsic evidence its literature must be relegated to the pre-Christian ages ; its spirit is as pagan as that of the Iliad, and pervades it so entirely that no scribe thought of altering it, save, perhaps, by the addition of a Christian tag. It is, indeed, one of the highest honours of Irish monasticism that, though ascetic and zealous in the extreme, it had a liberal large- minded respect for the literature of the ancients, and preserved it. The Cuchulainn Age is represented here by poems taken from some memorable historic tales or romances. The first is " The Sick-bed of Cuchulainn and the only Jealousy of Emer." Here the hero is shown in commerce and communion with the spirit world. The second is the famous " Tain Bo Cuailgne," or " Cattle-Spoil of Cuailgne"," where untoward Fate (in the person of Queen Mave) compels him, as Champion of Ulster, to fight and slay his friend Ferdiad. With this is given, from the Battle of Ros-na-ree, a dialogue -poem between Queen Mave and her Envoys. Lastly come three lays from " The Fate of the Children of Usnach," in order to show the metric form of the originals. 1 Pr. Cuhulainn. 12 INTRODUCTION. The perfection and diversity of the verse-forms, in this period, come on us with sudden surprise, as if the Gaelic muse had sprung into new being, fully equipped; but this seems due to the fact that an intermediate develop- mental period has irrevocably disappeared. Fand's " Welcome to Cuchulainn " supplies examples of allitera- tion and of end-rimes : " Stately stands the charioteer Beardless, young, who hasteth here ; Splendid o'er the plain he speeds His careering chariot-steeds." Lest it should grow monotonous, double rimes are intro- duced, though sparingly : "At sight of those steeds, fleeing, I stand there, silent, seeing : Never hoofs like these shall ring Rapid as the winds of Spring." The concluding stanza presents another change, display- ing internal or inlaid rime : " Blood drips from his lofty \ance. In his glance gleams battle fire ; Haughty, high, the victor goes, Woe to those who wake his ire." Then follows Liban's irregular " Rosg," which, in its burthen, or short wheel followed by a longer burthen, anticipates forms which made no appearance in English until the thirteenth or fourteenth century. There is also onomatopeia in the Gaelic lines, de- scribing how Cuchulainn's wheels are more resonant than the entire chariot of another. INTRODUCTION. 13 The "internal rime," shown in the last verse, was introduced afterwards into Norse by the Irish-Icelandic poets. It is the progenitor, also, of the so-called " in- verse rime " in English ; this becomes clear if we make a couplet of the line in which it appears : " Gave him great aid And made him more inclined." Spenser, " Faerie Queene." Again : " She must lie here On mere necessity." Shakespeare, " Love's Labour's Lost." Fand's " Farewell to Cuchulainn," coming from one who rejoiced to see him red with the blood of battle, surprises one by its great tenderness and refinement, as well as by its nobility of thought. It is the first Love-Song of Erinn, and touches chords that will vibrate in the human heart till mankind is no more. Deirdre^s plaints are more objective, Fand's more subjective ; her grief is implied and suggested more than directly expressed. Cuchulainn's lament for the friend who had proved false to their friendship is a noticeable poem in a noble episode. Each stanza begins with the same two lines, so that the burthen (of late date in English) was invented and used very early by the Irish bards. Cuchulainn declared his combats with previous champions had been play and pleasure to him until Ferdiad came. The poem ends thus : 14 INTRODUCTION. " Play was each, pleasure each, Till Ferdiad faced the beach ; Loved Ferdiad, dear to me I shall dree his death for aye ; Yesterday, a Mountain he, But a Shade to-day." The iteration and return displayed in this poem came into other literatures at a late period. In some respects it appears to anticipate the " broken stave " of Marot, and of English poets of the sixteenth century. To another form of verse-structure, found, not in one but in several of the poems which intersperse the " Tain Bo," a special interest belongs. A specimen is given in "The Queen's Envoys," taken from the "Battle of Ros-na-ree." It consists of two or of three lines ending in dissyllabic rimes, followed by a shorter line with single rime. 1 In the first case, it anticipates the structure of Moore's "Go where Glory waits thee," in the second of the " Groves of Blarney " and " The Bells of Shandon." The latter is the more usual form, and is found in the following : " Here, if come King Connor Back shall turn his banner Low shall lie his honour, Vanquished shall he be." Guest, observing on the difficulty of ascertaining the origin of English metres belonging to triple measure, says he has seen none of earlier date than the fifteenth century. He gives some verses which Gawin Douglas mentioned as popular amongst the people in 1512. 1 These forms were imitated in mediaeval hymns, e.g. , by Adam of St. Victor, a "Briton." INTRODUCTION. 15 These I quote in order to show that they are identical in rime-arrangement with the ancient Irish verses ; and (what should set the origin of their structure beyond all cavil) they also present alliteration, according to the strict rule of the Gaelic bards. This, which escaped Guest's notice, I have marked : " Hay, now the day dawis The jollie cock crawis, Now shroud is the shauis Throw nature anone ; The thrissel cok cryis On lovers wha lyis, Now skail is the skyis, The night is neir gone." This must have been framed on a Gaelic model, as every peculiarity is reproduced. It is even more exact in observing the rule of alliteration than some Gaelic verses. Anyone can verify this identity of structure by glancing at the following verses from a dialogue poem in the " Tain : " " Ni ragsa gan rata Do cluci na h-ata Meraid colla m-brata Go m-brut is co m-brig. Noco geb ge esti Ge ra bet dom resci l Gan grein ocas esci l La muir ocas tir." The Irish presents consonant as well as asonant rime in this very ancient poem. King James V. of Scotland, a critic of poetry, gave the 1 C (hard) corresponds in class with t. I have omitted dots over certain letters. 16 INTRODUCTION. name of " cuttit or broken " to all staves containing lines of unequal length. Guest, who quotes this, says the " broken stave," as he defines it, made its appearance in English about the middle of the sixteenth century, having been borrowed from the continent. Frenchmen, Italians, and Spaniards, in this century, varied the monotony of their chansons and ballades by shortening certain lines. The finished culture of the ancient Irish is shown by their invention of this, as well as of other metres, a thousand years previously. Some examples are before the reader. Another will be found in Deirdre"'s touching "Farewell to Alba," and several others follow. The old historic romance of which she is the heroine contains a number of lays, and these differ in structure. Besides the specimens given in this volume, we have her " Lament for the Sons of Usnach," the spirit of which has been so admirably transfused in Sir Samuel Ferguson's version. The original, however, is peculiarly elaborate. Each line ends with a double rime. The double end-rime of the first line chimes with an internal double-rime within the second : the same system holds good for the third and fourth lines. Then the double end-rime of the second line is answered by the double end-rime of the fourth. This will be more readily understood by an example in verse : " Long is my day of sorrow A morrow brings them never : Comrades of golden glory Whose story lives for ever." INTRODUCTION. I/ It would be impossible to give a metrical version exactly faithful to the poet's metre, sense, and rime- system. But, later on, the reader will find an exact translation of Cailte's " Isle of Arann," in alternate double rime; and here, another Lament for the Sons of Usnach, which Deirdr is supposed to sing, " Wail for the Warriors." It is specially remarkable, since, with alliteration, single and double rimes, and the broken stave, it presents an example of those sudden transitions from one measure to another, to suit the sense, which were especially effective and dramatic. This variation was a favourite with the ancient Irish, though it came but lately into the literature of other European nations. III. Following the epoch of Cuchulainn comes the epoch of Fionn, 1 which is usually known as the Ossianic Period. For convenience I subdivide the latter into (a) the period of Fionn, when the Leader yet lived and the Great Companionship of the Fianna stood together, and (fr) the Ossianic period, or the Age of Lamentation, when Ossian 2 sings their departed glory. It is believed that the Fianna, a disciplined standing army, was organized in imitation and in defiance of the Roman legions. Considering with what valour and success the ancient Irish fought the latter in Caledonia and Britain, we must credit them with skill in arms. The references to battles with the Romans which appear in the Ossianic lays represent a core of old tradition or old verse, for unfortunately the lays have been often 1 Find or Finn is the archaic form. * Oisin is the correct form. C 18 INTRODUCTION. retouched by later bards. This they did for the dramatic purpose of setting Paganism and Christianity face to face, confronting them in the persons of Ossian and Patrick. With this view, they interpolated passages. Yet, if the names were omitted, the idea would not depart far from historic truth, for some knowledge of the new Faith had certainly reached the restless Gael, from Britain and Gaul, before the days of Patrick or of Palladius. And some of the poems, judged by their archaic tone of thought, loftier atmosphere, and classic reserve, appear to have remained untouched. The poetic era of Fionn opens by a strange little lay, given in a prose narrative of undoubted antiquity, entitled " The Boyish Exploits of Finn, Son of Cumal." The verses are cited as the first lay of the Chief, whilst yet a youth, and they are consistently simple in structure, with occasional alliteration and rime. In their subject, as in its treatment, they remind one of the early English verses (A.D. 1250-1260) on the approach of summer. To the student of literature, and not less to students of history and of biology, it must be interesting to compare two poems on the same topic, composed in these islands at a distance in time of possibly a thousand years. Here, there- fore, I give the early English verses, not inquiring whether or not they were suggested by the more ancient Irish poem : " Sumer is i-cumen in Llude sing cuccu : Groweth sed and bloweth med And springth the wde nu, Sing cuccu, cuccu. INTRODUCTION. 19 Awe bleteth after lomb Llouth after calve cu ; Bullock sterteth, bucke verteth, Murie sing cuccu. Wei singes thu cuccu, Ne swik thou naucr nu Sing cuccu, cuccu." Archaic also in thought and expression, but more matured in form is Fionn's staccato description of the approach of winter. Could any poet in eight lines con- dense a more complete description, or produce a more chilling effect ? In " A Warrior's Duty " we have one of several ancient poems, in which the ethics of the ancient pagan Irish were set forth. Others are Cormac Mac Art's " Institutes of a King," and Cuchulainn's instructions to a prince. They teach the same lesson of loyalty, faithful companion- ship, knightly courtesy, sobriety of bearing, and kindness to the weak. The intense appreciation of Nature, revealed in Amer- gin's Chant extends, like a woof of gold, from the earliest to the latest Irish poem. Nowhere else is found a love so tender, so passionate at times, so constant, and so enduring. It is more than an affection, in some cases it almost seems a fusion. In this period the larger and deeper human note is sounded, with increasing intensity. First struck in Lugai's Elegy, it becomes clearer and fuller as the ages pass. The chord of noble friendship vibrates. In no place nor time was loyal companionship more highly 2O INTRODUCTION. honoured, or its cleavage more keenly felt. This powerful sentiment gives their graver interest and pathos to the heroic and romantic tales with which the Irish bards were the first to endow Europe. This is the tragic element in the " Tain Bo." It does not stand alone, but underlies other tales such as the " Fate of the Children of Usnach " and the " Pursuit of Diarmad." There woman's love appears in the persons of Deirdre' and of Grainne, in the former guarding, in the latter breaking, the beloved companionship, which forms in both cases the dramatic background. Such loyal comradeship was known among other nations, such as the Greeks, but the ancient Irish possessed in addition what the Greeks did not possess, a high chivalrous love of woman. For woman with the Irish was man's equal in position, in estate, in power, and in friendship. To the ancient Irish Europe owes its earliest love songs, and its first prose romances. Examples of the former have been given, for the Cuchulainn Period, in the songs of Fand and of Deirdre". Here may be found the poem of a lover to his lady, Cre'de' a chieftainess whose favour was sought by many, but whose coquetry was great as her beauty was admirable. Her suitor, Gael, approaches her with a poem of praise. In structure the poem is seven-syllabled (even when the rime is double) with end-rimes and alliteration. I quote the last stanza given, when, having eulogized her mansion and herself, her suitor says : INTRODUCTION. 21 " If she grant me grace at all, She, for whom the cuckoos call Then I, for thanks, will give her More lays to live for ever." Is it not surprising how the thought, in this verse of an ancient Irish Bard whose words are exactly rendered, anticipates that so nobly expressed by the Marquis of Montrose, in the seventeenth century ? " But if thou wilt prove faithful then And constant of thy word, I'll make thee glorious by my pen, And famous by my sword." But there is a line in the Irish which incloses a subtle and exquisite compliment. Who is she for whom the cuckoos call? Is it not the youthful Summer? So, when Cre'de' appears, the cuckoos call at her coming as at the coming of young Summer. This is surely one of the most beautiful compliments ever paid to woman. Successful in his suit, Gael fell in desperate combat on the sea-shore with an invader, and the billows broke over them. In this case we have the earliest European expression of reciprocal love. Gael declared his devotion for Cre"de", in her splendid mansion ; Cre"dd reveals the intensity of her affection, beside the incarnadined sea. In structural form her Lament recalls that of some verses of Deirdre's " Farewell to Alba." Whilst the remaining lines of the stanza are of seven syllables, the first line is short, having but three. Later copyists, not 22 INTRODUCTION. understanding this metre, eked out the line, in both cases, by repeating the words with an exclamation between. But though this may have adapted the stanzas to music, they lose the higher grace of classic firmness. They possess alliteration usually, with internal and end- rimes. " Woe is me ! Dead my Gael is, fair and free ; Oft my arms would ward his sleep, Now it is the deep, dark sea." Sometimes variety is produced by dissyllabic rimes : " Ever raining Fall the plaining waves above ; I have hope of joy no more Since 'tis o'er, our bond of love." Crede associates nature with her grief. She hears not only the wailing waves, but notes the heron defending its young, the stag sobbing for the slain hind, the thrush and blackbird's lament, and the swan mourning her dead mate. Then, with a sudden, and highly poetic reflection, she gauges the force of that grief which makes her (a chieftainess, once so given to the joy of life) take share of sorrow with a dying swan. Another lay, whose subject refers it to this epoch is " The Cold Night of Innisfail." " Cold, cold, Chill this night is Lure's wide wold Foodless now the gaunt deer goes, High o'er hills the snows are rolled." INTRODUCTION. 23 Keats has told us that " the owl for all its feathers was a-cold." But this fine image is surpassed, if not by that which shows the wren unable to shelter in its close nest, at least by the picture of the old eagle shivering in expectation that the bitter wind will freeze its beak in ice. Of a different character, bright, buoyant, and witty is the poem: "Where is sweetest music?" Here the individual characteristics of the chiefs of the great Com- panionship of the Fianna are reproduced. IV. The death of Finn, and the disruption of the Great Companionship, so pathetically told in the " Dis- course of the Ancients " l brings us to the second section of this period, with which the name of Ossian must be associated. This is the Age of Lamentation. The Hebrews felt not more keenly the fall of Jerusalem, than the ancient bards the fall of Finn and the disbandment of the Fianna. In modern days there is nothing to parallel the sentiment save that which racked the Scottish Jacobites after Culloden, or rather that which wrung the hearts of his Old Guard on the downfall and death of Napoleon. National sorrow refines and induces national song. But neither the Jacobite Laments nor Stranger's strains can be taken as surpassing those ascribed to Ossian, in nobility of thought, refinement of feeling, or pathetic suggestiveness. Look on that picture of "Ossian after the Fianna," a phrase which became the synonym of all survivors' 1 "SilvaGadelica." 24 INTRODUCTION. sorrow. The days and nights drag wearily, hopelessly on, whilst he recalls the splendid fellowship of the past. Now, blinded by tears, broken by age, he has no fellow- ship but with grief : " No hero now where heroes hurled, Long this night the clouds delay No man like me, in all the world, Alone with grief, and gray. " Long this night the clouds delay I raise their grave-earn, stone on stone, For Finn and Fianna passed away I, Ossian, left alone." What poetry, also, in that conception of the Blackbird whose voice was still singing from its nest in the oak tree of Darricarn, long after the mighty hand of Finn, who placed it there, had turned to dust. Every note recalled the days of old to Ossian, and to the Ancient Isle. What dignity also, and what reserve in the classic poem on the " House of Finn." Vidi tantum ! With these may be taken his warrior-comrade, Cailte's poem on winter. He strikes a bold chord, and brings us amongst the snowy mountains, where wolves are heard. The stag leaps up and bells aloud to warn its kindred. Then another stag, "arousing, Hears wail of wolves carousing." Cailte had "heard the chimes at midnight," with other mind than Falstaff. With Oscar and Diarmid, he heard "the rousing wolves a-wailing." In the winter of the year, and in the winter of his life, the memory of his deeds gives him cheer : INTRODUCTION. 25 " I am aged now and gray, Few of Men I meet this day : But I hurled the javelin bold, Of a morning, icy cold. " Thanks unto the King of Heaven, And the Virgin's son be given : Many men have I made still Who this night are very chill." The baptismal sprinkle given to the last quatrain adds force by contrast with the cause of the thanksgiving. One might imagine that a pagan divinity had been dis- placed from the first two lines : yet, as it stands, Cailte only anticipated some modern monarchs. Cailte's poem on Arann isle displays the characteristic love of nature, whilst the verse-structure, having alternate dissyllabic rimes, is remarkable : " Arann, in deer delighting ! Ocean smiles on her shoulders ; Men have feasts there and fighting Blue darts redden mid boulders." V. It has not been observed that a great catastrophe may influence the character and disposition of a nation. Yet, I would attribute the pathetic strain in Scottish poetry largely to the cruel consequences of the Jacobite defeat. Burns drew in new life from the fresh en- thusiasms of the French Revolution, and so his poetry is more buoyant. There can be no doubt, I believe, that the sad dirges of Ossian continued as the note was by other bards and generally spread did influence the character and sentiment of the Gael, and probably in- 26 INTRODUCTION. fused that tone of melancholy, which, renewed from time to time by recurring disasters, is supposed to be an essentially Celtic peculiarity. Fortunately, there was a burst of sunshine when the Christian faith came forth upon the waters. Otherwise the refinement which sorrow produces might have been carried to enervation. Fortunately, also, St. Patrick chose the Irish, and not the Latin, as the language of his famous hymn " The Guardsman's Cry." This was a fruitful fact ; for whilst the Latin hymns by Irishmen (with the illus- trious exception of the works of Sedulius) are of secondary, the Irish hymns are of primary, interest and importance. They are the children of " The Guardsman's Cry." St. Patrick gave his Confession in Latin, and might perhaps have given us rimed Latin verse. 1 He com- posed some lines in Irish regular verse. But for " The Guardsman's Cry," which is his authentic work, he chose that peculiar impetuous form known as the " Rosg," so often used as an incitement to warfare. No choice could have been more admirable. He pours through it all the ardent passion of his vehement spirit, and we see it swell and fall, pulsating with the life of faith, appealing, im- ploring, defiant and confident. Clarence Mangan has paraphrased the original in a beautiful and eloquent ode. 1 See hymn ascribed to him (but falsely, I think) in Cotton MSS. : " Constet quantus honos humanae conditionis Scire volens, hujus serie videat rationis, Non hominem verbo solo Deus effugiavit Quern facturus erat, sic quomodo cuncta creavit," etc. INTRODUCTION. 2J Here an effort is made to represent the original exactly in English, as what it is, an intense impassioned prayer. As it was the first hymn composed in a European language, beyond the classic world, the Hymn of St. Patrick makes an era in literature. This was the Dawn-light of Christianity. There are many pieces in prose and verse which reflect the con- dition of things then prevailing. They present the elder beliefs in all their plenitude, and yet are given a Christian touch or colour. Some of them may have been com- posed before Christianity came, and been subsequently revised, as the Ancient Laws were revised ; but it must be said that the Irish Christians respected the pagan classics. They may, indeed, have been composed in two lights. As a pale wan moon is sometimes seen in the sky when the sun is shining, so the dim light of paganism lingered long after Christianity sent its rays over the island. Even Christians retained belief in the activity of Powers which they no longer worshipped. These Twilight-pieces have many attractions. One is " The Fate of the Children of Lir." Transformed by the maleficence of their stepmother, the Swan-Children were doomed to suffer until Christianity should come to set them free. There is tender pathos in this tale, displayed in many of the poems. An antithetical treatment will be noticed in Fionnuala's " Lamentation on the Moyle," which style is also observable in Bran's " Voyage to the Isle of Delight." As regards structure, the most remark- able thing is the appearance of trisyllabic rimes which 28 INTRODUCTION. make a very late appearance in English and other litera- tures. These triple rimes are sometimes secured by single words, sometimes by more words than one. One quatrain may be cited where triple alternate with double rimes : " Dark our doom and tragical Condemned the waves to wander ; Ne'er such ill-fate magical Did mortal yet fall under." The " Isle of Delight " follows. Here, again, we seem to have the new Christian belief grafted on the elder heathen : and the beauties and delights of the ancient pagan paradise combined with Christian hopes. Christi- anity came, as in Greece and Italy, to a civilized and cultured people. This poem bears witness to the Ariel imagination of the ancients, which flew so easily from the visible to the invisible. Next to the episode of Fand, it is probably the earliest of those visionary pieces which the Irish precursors of Dante produced in successive ages, usually in prose, and which, when translated, became universally popular over Europe. Some passages have a special charm, and offer a certain modernity of thought and expression : And again : "Tis the beauty of things bright, Loveliness is in its sight." " They have music in the night, Through this Isle of all Delight- Flash of Beauty's diadem ! " INTRODUCTION. 2g Lovers of sports will find a novel suggestion in the mention of races between chariots and barques. These, however, took place in a region where time could be accurately kept as the boats sailed along the surface of the sea, whilst the chariots ran on the invisible isle beneath them. Bran went forth over the sea to discover the delectable island, and was met by Manannan, the Ocean-Spirit, in his chariot. The bard, by a fine con- ception, makes Manannan the author of a lay which, antithetically, contrasts the faculties of the Mortal with those of the Immortal : "The sea is clear, So thinks Bran, when sailing here ; I, in car, with purer powers Know the happy Plain of Flowers." The bard changes his metre occasionally to prevent monotony, and to arouse attention. VI. For three centuries, from the fifth to the ninth, the Civilization of Europe belonged to Ireland, says a German historian. This evidence of intellectual culture and supremacy, the greatest glory of the country, is strangely ignored in its schools. The influence of the ancient Irish on the Continent began in the works of Sedulius, whose "Carmen Paschale," published in the fifth century, is the first great Christian Epic, worthy of the name. Though he adopted the Latin forms of verse, he infused into them certain characters which reveal the Gael. One of these is the vowel end-rime, another systematic alliteration. These, of course, could not be 3O INTRODUCTION. continuously employed; but, on the other hand, they could not accidentally occur. A few examples may suffice for our present purpose. Consider these lines : " Neve quis ignoret speciem crucis esse co\endam, Quae Dominum portavit ovans, ratione potentt, Quatuor inde plagas quadrati colligit orbis, Splendidus auctoris de vertice fulget 'E.oiis, Occiduo sacrse lambuntur sidere plante Arcton dextra tenet, medium laeva erigit &xem," The rime in the end-words of the first two lines is " en," where the slender vowel " e " serves ; in the second two lines the broad vowel "o," and in the last two the broad vowel "a" give the Gaelic asonance. The systematic alliteration is obvious, and correctly complies with the Irish rule which, requiring the same consonants, permitted broad and slender vowels to alliterate. In his shorter compositions, the Irish features are equally distinct. We find them in his celebrated Hymn : "A solis ortus cardw? Ad usque terrae \imitem, Christum canamus pnncifem Natum Maria \\rgine. " Beatus auctor secw/z Seruile corpus induit, lit carne carnem \iberans Ne perderet quos condidzV." There are what one may call stolen alliterations, in the first couplet of the second stanza, where the last letters of "beatus" and "corpus," coming before vowels serve as initials. Sometimes, as in " detulit " and " sustulit," both INTRODUCTION. 3! vowel and consonants rime, as occasionally in ancient Irish verses. In this way, I have tested and discovered the presence of ancient Irish characteristic in the Sedulian verses. In addition, I have found a counter-test, which affirms our position in most satisfactory manner. This, with other hymns, came under the Revisers of the Roman Breviary, in the days of Urban VIII. These erudite Latinists took in hand the lines : ' ' Parvoque lacte p&stus est Per quern nee ales esurit. " They are perfect, judged by the bardic standard. The Latinists, demurring to the adjective, altered the first line thus : " Et lacte modico pastus est." By so doing, they destroyed the careful Celtic allitera- tion, which had escaped their ears. The Parisian Latinists made a yet greater change : " Et indiget lactis cibo." This annihilates not only the alliteration, but the end- rime. Again, let us take another instance. The hymn is abecedarian each stanza begins with a different letter, in due succession. In that beginning with " h," Sedulius wrote : " Hostis Herodes impzV Christum venire quid times, Non eripit mortah'a Qui regna dat coelestz'0." Erasmus first, and the Revisers afterwards, protested 32 INTRODUCTION. that "hostis," followed by "Herodes," was a trochseus and should not be found in iambic metre. Arevalus noted, later, that the "h" of the proper name being aspirated had the force of a consonant, and left " hostis " a spondee, which is allowable. The Irishman aspirated the "h;" the Romans occasionally dropped it. How- ever, the revising Latinists thought to set things right by a few touches. They accomplished this : " Crudelis Herodes deum Regem venire quid times." With what marvellous rapidity the Irish characteristics have disappeared ! The alliterative structure of both lines is destroyed, and the perfect end-rime rendered im- perfect. The subtle sound-echoes which charmed the bardic ear are expunged, in order to satisfy the metrical Latin ear. It is as if an artist, imbued with a perfect sense of form, but colour-blind, proceeded to revise the drawing in another artist's picture, and, whilst correcting its lines, painted out its more delicate tints. The presence of characteristics, so readily recognized by those conversant with Gaelic verse, and their erasure by the unwitting Latin Revisers, supply the test and the counter-test. By these, we demonstrate that the charac- teristics in question were Irish, not accidental peculiarities natural to a Latin poet, and from these we can deduce the bard's nationality. Huemer, who doubts that Sedulius was an Irishman, as Trithemius stated, was not aware of the intrinsic evidence here indicated. INTRODUCTION. 33 The question of the transfusion into Latin verse of Irish peculiarities is one of such curious interest that a few examples may be added. They passed chiefly into the Latin hymns, and, through the hymns, influenced the verse-forms of European literatures when these became articulate. The fifth century, which gave Sedulius and St. Patrick to letters, gave also St. Secundinus, a nephew and co- temporary of the latter. His verses in praise of St. Patrick betray the influence of the bardic schools. Zeuss drew attention to some rimes sprinkled through the verses (as " omn6 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. " Doncad's harp," they all exclaim, "The fair, fragrant tree of fame ! " " O'Brian's harp ! clear its call O'er the feast in Gabran's hall ; How the heir of Gabran's Kings Shook deep music from its strings ! " Son of Gael, of weapon sharp, Wins not now O'Brian's harp : Son of stranger shall not gain From this gem its Spirit's strain. What woe to come a pleader For harp of Lim'rick's Leader ! What woe to come a-dreaming That flocks were thy redeeming ! Sweet thy full melodious voice, Maid, who wast a Monarch's choice : Thy blithe voice would woe beguile, Maiden of my Erinn's isle ! Could I live the yew tree's time In this deer-loved eastern clime, I would serve her gladly still, The Chief's harp of Brendon Hill. GAEL AND NORMAN. 2O/ Dear to me of right it should Alba's ever-winsome wood, Yet, though strange, more dear I love This one tree of Erinn's grove ! THE EXILED HEAD. GlLLABRIDE MAC CONMIDE, 1 A.D. 1 260. DEATH of my heart ! Brian's head Far in foreign land is laid : High head of dauntless daring An Orphan Isle is Erinn. To their king of Saxon they Bore our Gael king's head away ; What could enemy wish more Thou, O Head ! art triumphed o'er. This peers all that foes have wrought Brian's head to London brought ! Now hath Fate fulfilled all woes, Brian's head lies 'mid his foes ! 1 Pronounced Mac Conmee (sometimes made Mac Namee). He was Chief Bard of Ulster, and friend of King Brian O'Neill, whose claim to the Over-Kingship was contested by an O'Brien. Brian was killed at the battle of Down, in 1260, by the Norman Lord Justice Stephen de Longe Espee. These are the first verses of a lengthy poem, in "Miscellany of the Celtic Society," Dublin, 1849. 208 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. WOMANKIND. 1 GERALD THE BARD, FOURTH EARL OF DESMOND. SHAME, who overleaps his steed, Rightly rede and understand ; Love with land goes swift behind, Weigh the worth of Womankind. Them may malisons enfold, Though of old we used to mix, Youth, their tricks are as the wind Ware the wiles of Womankind. He who early looks abroad Shall a load of ills discern, Wouldst thou learn the worst to find, Watch the heart of Womankind. Married man with witless wife, Fails in strife with foreign foe ; Bad for hart is belling hind, Worse the tongue of Womankind. Dame who hears but does not heed Walled indeed her ears with wax, 1 The Dean of Lismore's Book. See Appendix. GAEL AND NORMAN. 2OQ See her tax her spouse too blind, Wont to rouse is Womankind. Show a stranger, off she trips, Wreathes her lips with smiles resigned, Him beguiles with martyred air False as fair is Womankind. Wedded wife from altar rail, Pious-pale before the priest, After feast shows bitter rind Best beware of Womankind. Best beware of Womankind, Meetly mind, this truth proclaim : He who fails full soon shall find Bondage blind and bitter shame. THE FAILING ART. 1 DONCAD MOR OF LENNOX. i4TH 15x11 CENTURY. GRIEVE for him whose voice is o'er When called once more to meet with men ; 1 The Dean of Lismore's Book. In this pathetic poem Doncad Mor anticipates, by four centuries, the plot of Balzac's novel, "Le Chef d'CEuvre," which Mr. Kipling recalls in "The P 210 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Him whose words come slow as sighs, Who ever tries, and fails again. Never now he swells the air, Nor rolls the fair and faultless lay, Harp he cannot set aside, Nor wake, when tried, its minstrelsy. Yet his tinkling will not cease; Nor bide in peace ; he still would sing When no man can tell his words Nor hear the frail chords, faltering. Grieve for him who fails in fame, Nor keeps his name where none impeach ; Him who strives, and still in vain, That fruit to gain he cannot reach. Did I yearn such fruit to gain. I should not strain without reprieve ; I would tear the tree from clay Let whoso pray, or rage, or grieve. Light that Failed." In all three cases, the interest centres on the failure of an artist's powers. Balzac and Kipling depict a painter with decaying faculties : but the painter is not aware of the ruin of his work. Doncad's minstrel must be supposed conscious of his wrecked powers, and his despairing efforts against inevitable fate make this a greater tragedy. It is one Balzac should have dealt with. GAEL AND NORMAN. 211 LOVE UNTOLD. ISABEL STUART, FIRST COUNTESS OF ARGYLL, A.D. 1459. WOE to one whose wound is love, Be the reason what may be ; Who can heart from heart remove ? Sad the fate that follows me. Love I gave my Love unknown, Never tongue the tale may speak ; Soon, unhealed, it shall be shown In fading face and thinning cheek. He, to whom I gave my love (Ear shall hear not, none shall know), He has bonds eternal wove For me, an hundred fold of woe. 1 Dean of Lismore's Book. Isabel, second daughter of Stuart, Lord of Lorn, married Archibald, first Earl of Argyll (title granted A.D. 1457). The verses indicate a hidden romance. 212 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. A KING'S LESSON. 1 TADG O'BRUADIN, A.D. 1580. GREAT the teaching of a King, He prosperity may bring, May the land with order grace, Raise his country or abase. Know whose pow'r is o'er thy head, Follow Him, with faithful tread ; In thy heart still let Him be From whom thou hast royalty. Mind thou this, o'er everything : Love and honour the High King ; Faithful fear of God gave force To all wisdom, and its source. 1 This is part of a poem addressed by the bard to Doncad O'Brien (fourth Earl of Thomond) when the latter was elected Chief- tain of his clan. The bold freedom of the bardic lesson contrasts with the adulation of the contemporary court -poets of England, as with the doctrine of James I. The modernity of the Irish bard's teaching is due to its antiquity ; mankind has moved round on its tracks. The syllabic measure of the original is given, but not cer- tain peculiarities which would make a faithful translation impossible. It is related that the bard was ultimately murdered by a Cromwellian soldier, who coveted his inheritance. GAEL AND NORMAN. 213 Run not on a wanton will, Chief of Thomond, heedful still : Be the people's cause thy care Not an idler's task is there ! Let no banquet, drink, nor game, Maids, nor music thee inflame ; Make the ill-deed manifest Spite of potent chiefs protest. Not for love, nor fear, nor hate, Give thou, Judge deliberate, Wrongful sentence ; calmly cold, Silver sways it not, nor gold. Then crowds shall come to sue thee, Bring all their quarrels to thee ; Nor from thee fear any wrong, Full of wisdom, skilled and strong. Let thy fort be full of men, Few should of thy secrets ken ; Many courtiers gleam and flit Who for secrets are unfit. Let thy rule not swerve away From one noble 'neath thy sway : This is Erinn's right and root, This her first law absolute. 214 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Should thy friends impose, be thou, Till they're humble, stern of brow : Should for peace thy foemen sue Feuds forget in friendship true. Fierce shall be thy countenance When thy hosts to war advance ; Bright at banquet, when thou'lt share To each guest due honour there. Haughty be with men of blood, Mild with learning's lettered brood ; Be thy young face grave, thy speech Kind and courteous still to each. High in deed, be low in pride, Staunch in rush of terror's tide ; Manful keep thy soul, my son, Till the battle 's lost or won. Claim thy homage, none omit, Place in power no man unfit ; When loose men in office stand, King, contempt will stir the land. Never threaten, in thy wrath, War if no true cause it hath : Nor abandon right for peace, Or thou'lt dwindle and decrease. GAEL AND NORMAN. 21$ Curb thy will, nor come perforce ; Bear at times to thwart its course : That the land draw to thy will Patience show in anger still. Surest word the word that 's slow. Lower the lofty, lift the low, Quell the mob, make peace to sing Such the true signs of a king. Son, for thee no song I raise, Though thou be designed for praise ; I for thee stand silent still Till our teaching thou fulfil. ***** Then the sun of day, the sky, Earth and water, birds on high, Every element shall sing To the praises of the king. On the boughs shall swarm the bees, Salmon leap from shining seas, All the fair tribes of the flood Praise with me the chieftain good. Then the warriors, and the bard, Then the king shall praise award, They shall laud thy high estate, Nor deem any king so great. 216 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. FAREWELL TO INNISFAIL. GERALD NUGENT. l WOE, to part from Innisfail, Woe from Erinn's side to sail ; Land of the bee-glad mountains ! Isle of the steeds and fountains ! Now I cleave the foreign foam Facing east from Fintan's home : My heart leaves me, faring o'er, Dear no shore but Erinn's shore. Shore of fine fruit-bended trees, Shore of green grass-covered leas ; Old plain of Ir, soft, show'ry, Wheatful, fruitful, fair, flow'ry ! Home of priest, and gallant knight, Isle of gold-haired maidens bright, Banba of the clear blue wave, Of bold hearts and heroes brave. 1 A bard of anoble Anglo-Norman family (de Nogent) who became Irish, and victims to later invaders. It is noticeable how appeal is made to old Gaelic heroes, whose feelings they assumed as part of their heritage. The Irish Nugents became illustrious leaders on the continent. Field-Marshal Nugent, of the Austrian service, defeated Murat. The poet's praise of the valour of Irishmen was supported by his contemporary, Edmund Spenser, who said " no man cometh GAEL AND NORMAN. If God bless my flag, unfurled, I'll yet reach my native world ; But I come not from abroad 'Neath the shunned Saxons' rod. Not deeps I dread, upheaving, But leaving Laere's mountains 'Tis quitting Delvin, grieving, That fills all sorrow's fountains. Fare ye well, who watch my sail Youths of honoured Innisfail ! Farewell Meath, the nest of song, Noble, knightly, steadfast, strong ! on more bravely at a charge. " The Irish cavalier, finely apparelled, resembled Sir Topas ' ' in his robe of sheklaton, which is that kind of guilded leather with which they used to embroyder their Irish jackets. And there, likewise, by that description, you may see the very fashion and manner of the Irish horseman most truly set forth in his long hose, his ryding showes of costly cordwaine, his hocqueton, and his haberion, and all the rest." ... Sir Topas, in Chaucer, wore fine "cloth of lake," "sherte," and " breche " next his white skin : " And next his sherte an haketon And over them an habergeon, For piercing of his herte. " And over them a fin hauberk Was all ywrought of Jewes werk, Ful strong it was of plate ; And over that his cote armoure, As white as is the lily floure, In which he would debate. " X. SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. DIRGE OF OLIVER GRACE. SEAN MAC WALTER WALSH (1604).' DARK the cloud our mountains o'er, A cloud that never came before ; Stern the noon-hush, broken lowly By the voice of sorrow solely. Floats the death knell on the wind, Grief, alas ! comes close behind ; Harshly hoarse the raven's croaking, Warning that man's life is broken. For thee, O noble youth ! for thee Wails the banshee mournfullie ; In the midnight, still and lone, Sadly swells her Caeine's moan. 1 This very Gaelic dirge was composed by the descendant of a Welshman for the descendant of an Anglo-Norman (of Raymond Le Gros, or Le Gras, whence Grace), and is rendered into English by the descendant of a Norseman. Here is evidence of how complex may be the Irish nature and the " Celtic note " at times. 220 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. The Rock's Son ' answers to her wail, Grieving from gray rock and vale ; The cock no longer hails the pearly Morn, nor cheers us late or early. Ah, my Oliver 6g, mo chree ! z 'Tis thy death wakes the weird banshee ; 'Tis it that brings both night and morrow- 'Tis it that brings the bitter sorrow ! What fills thy place to us, our chief? Naught but Tears and sobbing Grief! There 's naught for us since he is taken But weeping tears and sore heart-breaking. Death ! thou'st smote for ever, now, Fairest flower from highest bough ; Mo nuar ! could nothing stay thy doom, And save our dear one from the tomb ? Sword of brightness, strong and sure, Shield of justice and the poor, 'Neath thy noble father's banner High thou'st won, in Ormond, honour. Ne'er till came this darkest day Thy home in sorrow hopeless lay ; 1 Echo. 2 Young Oliver, my heart. SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 221 Good thou wast, O heir ! and noble, Thee they mourn in bitter trouble. Rightful heir, in truth, still bearing High their name and love for Erinn, An oak-tree, thou wast fair to see, And like to spread thy branches free. Such was not thy fate's designing, Low in earth thou'rt now reclining, Ruin of joy, each day for all For thy love a black heart-pall ! She, a mother, ever weepeth For the long, lone sleep he sleepeth, Her children's sire, her first love, dearest. Ah, 'tis she has anguish drearest. Never again the chase he'll follow, O'er misty mount or dewy hollow ; Never be heard his clear horn ringing, Never his dog's cry, gaily springing. Never he'll urge his swift young steed Over the mount and over the mead ; Change is o'er his beauty bowed, O'er his glory falls a cloud. 222 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. O gen'rous hand, thou'rt weak for aye ! Magnanimous heart, thou art but clay ! Seed of knighthood, friend of the bard, O'er thee the Spirit of Song keeps ward. Bright beam of song ! not quencht thy fame, My lay shall live with thy radiant name, And win a tear, in the after morrows, For thee, perchance, and thy bard of sorrows. THE FLIGHT OF THE EARLS. 1 ANDREAS MAC MARCUIS, A.D. 1607. Lo, our Land this night is lone ! Hear ye not sad Erinn's moan ? Maidens weep and true men sorrow, Lone the Brave Race night and morrow. 1 O'Neill and O'Donnell, Earls of Tyrone and Tyrconnell. The great plunder obtained, by the confiscation of the Earl of Desmond's estates in South Munster, in Elizabeth's reign, sharpened the appetite for more spoils. Hence in the reign of James I. , a conspiracy was formed and a sham plot was alleged against the Earls of Tyrone and Tyrconnell : they fled, and the lands they had ruled were shared among the spoilers. In the next reign an attempt was made to annul the titles of the old Anglo-Norman nobility of Connaught, for the new-comers spared no race. SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 22$ Lone this night is Fola's plain, Though the foemen swarm amain Far from Erinn, generous-hearted, Far her Flower of Sons is parted. They have crossed the Spanish foam, To their great Forefather's home; Though from populous Erinn gone, They have left behind not one. Great the hardship ! great the grief ! Ulster wails Tirconaill's Chief, From Emain west to Assarue Wails gallant, gentle, generous Hugh. Children's joy no more rejoices, Fetters silence Song's sweet voices Change upon our chiefs, alas ! Bare the altar, banned the Mass. Homes are hearthless, harps in fetters, Guerdons none for men of letters, Banquets none, nor merry meetings, Hills ring not the chase's greetings. Songs of war make no heart stronger, Song of peace inspire no longer, In great halls, at close of days, Sound no more our Fathers' lays. 224 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Bregia's plain now hears no more Great Milesian deeds of yore ; Unsung the rout, o'er hill and hollow When Denmark flees and gay Gael follow. Thus is Erinn's sad estate, This henceforth must be her fate ; Long the ban will lie upon her, Helpless long in hard dishonour. Now come, it must, alas ! be said Egyptian rule upon her head ; The faithless host round Troja's walls, The fate of Babylonian halls. Foemen camp in Neimid's plains ; Who shall break our heavy chains ? What Naisi, son of Conn, shall prove A Moses to the land we love. She has none who now can aid her, All have gone before the invader ; Banba's bonds and cruel cross Steal the very soul from us ! SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 225 TWO CHAMPIONS OF CHRISTENDOM. 1 DONNCAD O'FUTAIL, A.D. 1619. O'ER the fair sea they set sail, Two tried chiefs from Innis Gael, 2 Free of will they left the shore We shall see them never more. Why did our comrades leave us, That wistful woe should grieve us ? Each went, with hero's ardour, To serve as Europe's warder ! Forth they fared across the foam For the fame of Christendom ; They in high emprise succeed By true worth and dauntless deed. 1 Extract from a long poem in if Miscellany of the Celtic Society." Concobar was the son and heir of Sir Fingein O h-Edirsceoil, which name was altered to Florence O'Driscoll. This chief had done homage to the Lord Deputy, but the son took service and rose to distinction abroad, like so many other Irishmen. His son's first name seems to have been curiously latinized Cornelius, hence Corneil. The two champions of Christendom against the Turks were father and son : the latter, O'Donovan says, was killed at the mouth of the Mediterranean, in June, 1619, in a battle between the Turkish and Spanish Fleets. 2 Isle of the Gael. 226 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Their names shine clear in story, Shore and sea speak their glory : Nothing dimmed their valour's glow Till an ill fate laid them low. Conall Cearnach, 1 no, nor Cu 2 Greater courage never knew ; Nor fair Oscar, first in war, Braver was than Concobar. Oliver 3 hath noble name, Fortibras is fair of fame ; Yet, 'mid surge and spray of spears, These our princes were their peers. Conall Gulban, 4 great of yore, Waged the war from shore to shore Though he urged the forays far, Farther still came Concobar. Nor doth very Hector, he Nor Achilles, in degree, Though aloft each shone a star, Beat the blade from Concobar. 1 Greatest of the Red Branch Knights, in the first century. a I.e., Cuchulainn. 3 One of Charlemagne's paladins, and frequently mentioned in Irish romance. 4 Famous son of King Niall of the Nine Hostages. SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 22/ They have sent, hand over hand, The renown through ev'ry land Of their high heroic deeds, Faring far where honour leads. Well the Saxes know the name Well the Franks the flying fame Of the bare-armed heroes' might, 1 Of their far-resounding fight. Nobles speak their praise in Spain, And the Emp'ror in Almaine, Fair the feats on honour's roll Of the Heir of Edirske61. The champion chiefs of Flanders Lament the dead Commanders, Alba, Erinn, both deplore The brave men who come no more. But th' exulting Turks take breath, They have rest with Corneil's death ; They fear not now his warning, He sleepeth sound till Morning. * =::< * * * 1 They bared the arm for battle, disdaining the encumbrance of armour. 228 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. How dark the clouds of heaven, By flash of red fires riven, No boughs bend l above the dell Since the two famed heroes fell. The shores and seas are wailing, The moon and stars are paling, And loud the cascade 's calling, Because the knights have fallen. The earth and air, all over, The angel birds * that hover, Each mournful night and morrow Lament with lovers' sorrow. There 's no country, clan, nor home, There 's no heart in Christendom, But shall feel as fell two stars In the fate-killed Concobars. 1 I.e. with fruit. 8 Literal. SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 229 LAMENT FOR EOGHAN RUA O'NEILL. 1 A.D. 1649. How great the loss is thy loss to me ! A loss to all who had speech with thee : On earth can so hard a heart there be As not to weep for the death of Eoghan ? Och, och6n ! 'tis I am stricken, Unto death the isle may sicken, Thine the Soul which all did quicken ; And Thou 'neath the sod ! I stood at Cavan o'er thy tomb, Thou spok'st no word through all my gloom; O want ! O ruin ! O bitter doom ! O great, lost Heir of the House of Niall ! I care not now whom Death may borrow, Despair sits by me, night and morrow, My life henceforth is one long sorrow ; And Thou 'neath the sod ! 1 There are at least three dirges for Eoghan Rua : one, of recent date, by Thomas Davis ; a Gaelic lament, translated by Mangan, somewhat formal in tone ; and this, which evidently expresses the sincere feelings of a personal friend, whose name is lost to us. 230 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. child of heroes, heroic child ! Thou'dst smite our foe in battle wild, Thou'dst right all wrong, O just and mild ! And who lives now since dead is Eoghan ? In place of feasts, alas ! there 's crying, In place of song, sad woe and sighing, Alas, I live with my heart a-dying, And Thou 'neath the sod ! My woe, was ever so cruel woe ? My heart is torn with rending throe ! 1 grieve that I am not lying low In silent death by thy side, Eoghan ! Thou wast skilled all straits to ravel, And thousands broughtst from death and cavil, They journey safe who with thee travel, And Thou with thy God ! My days shall count but a short, sad space, Till I, 'mid saints, shall behold thy face ; Nor meet to mourn in that holy place, In joy before the self-chosen Lamb. O then I ne'er shall fear to sever, O from thy side I'll wander never, Singing the glory and peace for ever ; And we, with our God ! SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 2$ I SHAUN O'DWYER OF THE GLEN. Air: "Sean (PDuibir an Gleanna." 1 A.D. 1651. OFT, at pleasant morning, Sunshine all adorning, I've heard the horn give warning With bird's mellow call Badgers flee before us, Woodcocks startle o'er us, Guns make ringing chorus, 'Mid the echoes all ; The fox run high and higher, Horsemen shouting nigher, The maiden mourning by her Fowl he left in gore. Now, they fell the wild-wood : Farewell, home of childhood, Ah, Shaun O'Dwyer a' Glanna, Thy day is o'er ! 1 Pronounce: Shaun O Dyer a glanna. Colonel John O'Dwyer was a distinguished officer, who, in 1651, commanded in Tipperary and Waterford, and subsequently left Waterford for Spain with 500 followers. 232 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL It is my sorrow sorest, Woe, the falling forest ! The north wind gives me no rest, And death 's in the sky : My faithful hound 's tied tightly, Never sporting brightly, Who'd make a child laugh lightly, With tears in his eye. The antlered, noble-hearted Stags are never started, Never chased nor parted From the furzy hills. If peace came, but a small way, I'd journey down on Galway, And leave, tho' not for alway, My Erinn of Ills. The land of streamy valleys Hath no head nor rallies In city, camp, or palace, They never toast her name. Alas, no warrior column, From Cloyne to peaks of Colum, O'er wasted fields and solemn, The shy hares grow tame : O ! when shall come the routing, The flight of churls and flouting ? We hear no joyous shouting From the blackbird brave ; SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 233 More warlike is the omen, Justice comes to no men, Priests must flee the foemen To the mountain cave. It is my woe and ruin That sinless death's undoing Came not, ere the strewing Of all my bright hopes. How oft, at sunny morning, I've watched the Spring returning, The Autumn apples burning, And dew on woodland slopes ! Now my lands are plunder, Far my friends asunder, I must hide me under Branch and bramble screen If soon I cannot save me By flight from foes who crave me, O Death, at last I'll brave thee My bitter foes between ! 234 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. THE MUNSTER KNIGHT. 1 RICHARD O'BROIN. " HAIL, O fair maiden, this morning fair, Calm are thy slumbers, and I in despair ; Rise and make ready, and turning our steeds Well travel together to Munster's meads." " Tell first thy Christian and clan-name too, Lest what said about Munstermen might come true : They'd take me in joy and they'd leave me in rue To bear my kin's scorn my whole life through." " I'll tell first my Christian and clan-name true : Ristard O'Broin from o'er Munster's dew, I'm heir to an Earl and to tall towers white, And for me dies the child of the Greenwood-Knight." " If thou'rt heir to an Earl and to tall towers white, Thou'lt have choice of rich damsels to be thy delight, Who've peers as their fathers and hold the high cheer, Thou need'st my humble self not, Cavalier ! ' 1 This poem may date from Elizabethan days. SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 235 " Come with me and thou, too, shalt sit with peers, Come with me and thou, too, shalt hold high cheers ; Thou'lt have halls where are dances and music old, Thou'lt have couches the third of each red with gold ! " " I'm not used at my father's to sit with hosts, I'm not used at the board to have wines and toasts, I'm not used to the dance-halls, with music old, Nor to couches the third of each red with gold." " O would we were speeding in chariot fine, A glitter of gold in the gay sunshine, More welcome than sunlight thy gold tresses are, And long I have pined for my Morning Star." THE FLOWER OF MAIDENS BROWN. To the county of Leitrim if you would come over ! O Flower of Maidens Brown ! I'd bring you sweet meud l and honey of the clover, O Flower of Maidens Brown ! Beneath the green boughs, along the sunny shore, You'd see the ships sail and watch the dipping oar, And sadness or grief you never should know more, O Flower of Maidens Brown ! 1 Metheglin. 236 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. " I will not flee with you, in vain your imploring," Saith Flower of Maidens Brown ! " A banquet of praises would leave me deploring," Saith Flower of Maidens Brown ! " A thousand times better live without a love, Than walking the dew, in valley or in grove, The pulse of my heart for you did never move," Saith Flower of Maidens Brown ! I saw her she came across the mountain heather, As a star through mist shines down, I told her my love, and we roved on together, Till the green milking field we found ; Then, seated awhile, where blossomed boughs grew, I plighted my pledge that she should never rue, All dangers I'd bear and ever would prove true To Flower of Maidens Brown ! 'Tis my grief, 'tis my ruin she will not come hither, The Flower of Maidens Brown ! The spouse of my heart to be, for aye together With Flower of Maidens Brown ! From mankind afar, in a glen out of sight, All happy, all joyful, by day and by night, O God ! what a fate if I win not my delight, The Flower of Maidens Brown ! SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 237 EIVLIN A RUIN. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. Air: "Eiblina Rttin." 1 I AM dazzled with love for thee, Eivlin a ruin ! To praise you is joy to me, Eivlin a ruin ! My Glory of Light art thou ! My Solace most bright art thou ! My Mirth and my Might art thou ! Eivlin a ruin ! O, Fosterer sure art thou ! O, Wood-dove all pure art thou ! My heart's only Cure art thou ! Eivlin a ruin ! With frankness and spotless youth, Eivlin a ruin ! Could you deceive my truth ? Eivlin a ruin ! More beauteous than Venus far, More fair than the Morning Star, 1 "Eiblin a ruin." Pronounced Eivleen or Eileen a rooin i.e., Eivleen, O, secret treasure. 238 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. My Helen, unstained, you are Eivlin a ruin ! My red Rose, my Lily white, My treasure for ever bright, Darling ! my soul's delight ! Eivlin a ruin ! I'd cross the salt sea with you, Eivlin a ruin ! And ne'er ne'er I'd flee from you, Eivlin a ruin ! What soft tales I'd tell to you, I'd taste your lips' sweetness, too, I'd sing 'mid the falling dew, " Eivlin a ruin ! " I'd bring you where rivers glide, Where green boughs o'ershade the tide, 'Neath music of birds to bide, Eivlin a ruin ! O ! joy beyond life would bless, Eivlin a ruin ! Should I wed your loveliness, Eivlin a ruin ! My fond arm would circle you, My heart be your guardian true, Ne'er maiden were loved like you, Eivlin a ruin ! SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 239 My beauteous Star, mild and clear, Sooner than cause a tear, O Death, it were welcome here ! Eivlin a ruin ! THE FAIRY LAND OF PROMISE. ART MAC CuMAiGH. 1 ON the clay of Creggan churchyard, I slept all the night in woe, With the rise of morn, a Maiden came and kissed me, bending low : Her cheek had the blush of beauty, her tresses the golden sheen, 'Twas the world's delight to gaze on the face of that fair young Queen ! "O true heart," she said, "and constant! Consume not in grief for aye, But arise and make ready swiftly, and come to the West away : 1 This pathetic ballad was composed by an Ulster bard, after the last struggles of the independent Irish. All night he had lain amongst the graves of his chieftains, and is comforted by an ethereal Spirit which allures from hopeless grief to an Ideal World. The Spirit of Poetry has thus often comforted the Gael. Another version is given in Mr. McCall's " Noinins " (Dublin : Seely, Bryers and Walker) with some true Irish songs. 240 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. In that fair Land of Promise, strangers bear sway o'er no sea nor shore, But the sweetness of airy music shall entrance thee for evermore." " Not for all of the gold that monarchs could heap on the round of earth Would I stay when you seek me, Princess ! but this lone land of my birth Keeps yet on its hills some kindred my heart would be loath to leave, And the bride that in youth I wedded, were I gone, would, it may be, grieve." " Methinks that, of all thy kindred, no friend hast thou living now, None speaks but to deride thee, none grieves for thy stricken brow ; No hand goes to clasp a comrade's, no eyes to look into thine Why tarry in snows of sorrow, when I call to a life divine ? " " Ah, my anguish, my wound ! we've lost them the Gael of our true Tyrone, And the Heir of the Fews, unhonoured, sleeps under the cold gray stone ; SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 241 Brave branches of Niall Frasach, whose delight were the lays of old, Whose hearts gave the minstrels welcome, whose hands gave the poets gold ! " " Since at Aughrim all were vanquished, and the Boyne alas, my woe ! And fallen the great Milesians, and every chieftain low, Were't not better to fairy fortress to flee, in our love, away, Than to suffer Clan William's 1 arrows in thy torn heart ev'ry day." " One pledge I shall ask you only, one promise, O Queen divine ! And then I will follow faithful, still follow each step of thine, Should I die, in some far-off country, in our wanderings east and west, In the fragrant clay of Creggan, let my weary heart have rest." 1 The partisans of William III. 242 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. MABEL NI KELLY. 1 TORALACH O'CAROLAN (1670-1738). WHOMEVER Fate may favour To have his right hand 'neath thy head, For all his life, he never Will think of death or danger dread. O head of the beauteous curling hair ! breast like the swimming swan so fair ! Love and hope of Lover, All the island over, Fairest maid is Mabel, here and everywhere ! No song the sweetest, No music meetest, But she sings its melody, full, soft, and true ; Her cheek the rose a-blowing, With comrade lily glowing, 1 The genius of O'Carolan infused fresh and vigorous life into Irish Song. Three versions of this lyric have been published, but none in the metre of the original. Hardiman, who considered it one of the Bard's finest pieces, supplies the reason : " The difficulty of adapting English verse, in any variation of metre, to the complicated modulations of several of his surviving melodies is generally acknow- ledged. . . . His lively style, so different from the slow plaintive strains of our ancient music, the rapidity of his turns, his abrupt changes and terminations, so unexpected yet so pleasing could be followed only in the language in which he thought, composed, and sung. " In this version, the original metre of O'Carolan 's irregular lyric is reproduced, in English, with its complicated modulations. SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 243 Her glancing eyes, like opening blossoms blue. And a bard has sung how herons keen On hearing her victor-voice slumber serene. Her eyes of splendour Are wells of candour. Here's thy health, go Ie6r, a st6r, our beauty bright queen ! Since they have passed death's portals Those heroines of world-wide name, Methinks, their place 'mid mortals Is Mabel's now by right and fame. Lively and lovely all hearts she has won, Fortune of song and its sweet paragon, Curling Cooleen fairest, Down-white shoulder rarest, Chord of music ringing, after she has gone ! None can espy her, Such charm is nigh her, But will startle, and will flutter, like wings in the air And the lamp will lose its light Before the maiden bright, Of all the Gaelic nation most winsome and most fair : For foot or hand or eye or mouth, nothing can compare ! Her tresses, like a sunbeam, to the grasses fall, Then let the palm be mine Of minstrelsy divine, Because I sing the Sovereign of all ! XL EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: PATRIOTIC. THE FAIR HILLS OF EIRE. BY DONCAD MAC CONMARA. CIRCA I736. 1 Air: " Uileacan Dub 0." TAKE my heart's blessing over to dear Eire's strand Fair Hills of Eire" O ! To the Remnant that love her our Forefathers' Land ! Fair Hills of Eire O ! How sweet sing the birds, o'er mount there and vale, Like soft sounding chords, that lament for the Gael, And I, o'er the surge, far, far away must wail The Fair Hills of Eire O ! 1 Composed whilst the poet was in exile, on the Continent (at Hamburg), during the Penal Regime. The name Eire (Ireland) is dissyllabic, and may be pronounced as "eyrie." The bard was born at Cratloe, Clare County, about 1710, and outlived the century. In spite of the penal laws against education, he succeeded in acquiring, at home and on the Continent, a mastery of classic and foreign lan- guages. Besides short poems, he wrote a mock-heroic ^Eneid, de- tailing his adventures. In his old age he became blind, and the Irish teachers and pupils in Waterford, with old-time liberality and appreciativeness, laid a tribute on themselves for his maintenance. 246 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. How fair are the flow'rs on the dear daring peaks, Fair Hills of Eire O ! Far o'er foreign bowers I love her barest reeks, Fair Hills of Bird O ! Triumphant her trees, that rise on ev'ry height, Bloom-kissed, the breeze comes odorous and bright, The love of my heart ! O my very soul's delight ! The Fair Hills of Eire O ! Still numerous and noble her sons who survive, Fair Hills of Eir O ! The true hearts in trouble, the strong hands to strive- Fair Hills of Eird O ! Ah, 'tis this makes my grief, my wounding and my woe To think that each chief is now a vassal low, And my Country divided amongst the Foreign Foe The Fair Hills of Eire O ! In purple they gleam, like our High Kings of yore, The Fair Hills of Eire O ! With honey and cream are her plains flowing o'er, Fair Hills of Eire O ! Once more I will come, or very life shall fail, To the heart-haunted home of the ever-faithful Gael, Than king's boon more welcome the swift swelling sail- For the Fair Hills of Eire O ! The dew-drops sparkle, like diamonds on the corn, Fair Hills of Eire O ! EIGHTEENTH CENTURY : PATRIOTIC. 247 Where green boughs darkle the bright apples burn Fair Hills of Eire" O ! Behold, in the valley, cress and berries bland, Where streams love to dally, in that Wondrous Land, While the great River-voices roll their music grand Round the Fair Hills of Eire" O ! O, 'tis welcoming, wide-hearted, that dear land of love ! Fair Hills of Eire O ! New life unto the martyred is the pure breeze above The Fair Hills of Eire" O ! More sweet than tune flowing o'er the chords of gold Comes the kine's soft lowing, from the mountain fold, O, the Splendour of the Sunshine on them all, Young and Old, 'Mid the Fair Hills of Eire O ! THE BRIGHTNESS OF BRIGHTNESS. EGAN O'REILLY. 1 BRIGHTNESS of Brightness came, in loneliness, advancing, Crystal of Crystal her clear gray eyes were glancing, Sweetness of Sweetness her soft words flowed, entrancing, Redness and Whiteness her cheek's fair form enhancing. 1 John Mor O'Reilly, the son of a gentleman farmer, was sent from Crosserlough, Cavan, at the beginning of the eighteenth 248 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Cluster of Clusters, her hair descended flowing, Swept o'er the flowers in showers of golden glowing ; Round her a raiment more pure than purest snowing, Lofty her radiant race far beyond our knowing. Lore of all Lores, she there swift to me imparted, Lore of his sailing, from whom we long were parted ; Lore of their wailing, who to wreak his ruin started, Lore not for song, but a trust for the true-hearted ! Thrills after thrills came as I drew nigh this Wonder, Captor she captured, and bound my senses under ; When for His aid I cried, who ruleth thought and thunder, Flashing she fled to the Peaks of Luachra, yonder. Throbbing I follow, o'er hollow, height, and river, Through many unknown ways, where lone waters shiver, Oped the Druid Fort, a passage free to give her, Where, in its core of cores, me she did deliver. Laughter, thereafter, broke forth in harsh derision, Wizardry, Witchery, kept watch in sour suspicion, century, to learn classics in Kerry, where the Penal Code did not operate efficiently, and communication with the continent was fre- quent. Having, in self-defence, slain one of several men who way- laid him, he was tried and acquitted at law ; but, by the Church canons, he was forbidden admission to its ministry. He settled in Kerry, married a Miss Egan : their son Egan O'Reilly (often made O'Rahilly in Munster) was the bard. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: PATRIOTIC. 249 Chaining they chained me, then showed her sad position, Bound to a Clown, the Maid of Maids elysian ! Forth rushed my words of wrath and indignation : " Thine not to brook such base humiliation, When the noblest knight of all the Scotic nation Thrice sought to raise Thee to right royal station." Hearing my voice she wept, noble sorrow showing, Tears fell in silence, like bitter torrents flowing ; Guerdon she gave, as my guide through gloom, bestowing Brightness of Brightness I'd seen, in loneliness, when going. 1 THE DAWN OF DAY. EGAN O'REILLY. 2 THE Fair Maid Morning moved o'er the ocean, The flow'rs grew fragrant on ev'ry bough ; Sweet rose the voices of birds in motion, And joy in all breathed around me now : 1 The argument, of course, is that the bard, in solitude, met the Spirit of Song, which led him over all obstacles to his Queenly Erinn, fettered and degraded : then Erinn, in guerdon for his loyalty, bestowed on him the Spirit of Poetry, whose light and sweetness gave him purer vision and consolation. 2 O'Kearney MSS., Royal Irish Academy. O'Kearney states that, every seventh year, the fishermen off the Black Rocks, near 250 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Slow sound of waves, where the swans were gliding, Soft call of cuckoos in greenwood gay, Smooth shimm'ring gleams from the billows sliding, And the heavens smiling the Dawn of Day ! The bees o'er meadows went seeking sweetness, The splendid fish gleamed o'er ocean's brow, The white lambs played in a happy fleetness, And ripples ran from the rushing prow ; When, lo ! there shone, on the surface sunny, Our Hero-champions in war's array, The dew that fell was of newest honey How gay and gladsome the Dawn of Day ! Floating Sea-nymphs were round them glancing, The blowing breeze bade their banners hail Hosts on hosts of our friends advancing, In gleaming arms, came to free the Gael. Loud rang the trumps o'er ranks victorious Of noble knights for the noble fray, Our brave defence in the battle glorious Great God ! how radiant the Dawn of Day ! Dundalk, may see the splendid vision of an ancient city, with a fair space of fruitful lands around it. It is noteworthy that the dawning (not the midnight) hour, was the propitious time for fairy appear- ances. Tradition seems, in this and other visions, to have preserved the memory of the pagan paradise visited of old by Cuchulainn, and later by Bran and others. Clarence Mangan gave a free paraphrase of the original Irish in "The Dawning of Day," in a quite different metre, but full of melody. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: PATRIOTIC. 2$ I Through wondrous forests the hosts came marching, Through glades that glowed with all berries sweet, The very brambles that rose, o'er-arching, Rained scented blossoms before their feet. 'Twas Paradise, methought, in glory, With gate thrown wide to the Gael for aye ! I looked again ah, the cruel story ! There was naught, my grief ! but the Dawn of Day ! OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY. SEAN CLARACH MAC DoNNELL. 1 ONCE I was a maiden fair, Now a widow's weeds I wear, My true Love cleaves the billows' spray, Over the hills and far away ! CHORUS. This were the choice of the world for me, To sail with him the shining sea, With him to be, at the dawn of day, Over the hills and far away. 1 Born in Cork County, 1691, the poet died in 1751. The his- torian O'Halloran writes: "Mr. Mac Donnell, a man of great erudition, a profound antiquarian and poet, whose death I sensibly 252 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. O, to hear my true Love come, With pealing of bell and roll of drum, While trumpets sound the gathering gay Over the hills and far away ! Chorus. O, to see my true Love bold, And on his brow the crown of gold ! His country's joy, his foes' dismay, Over the hills and far away ! Chorus. Love of my heart, my prince, my king ! Sweeter than song the wild birds sing, Brighter to me than star of day, Over the hills and far away ! Chorus. I'll stand yon mountain peak above, And sing the praise of my own true Love, Till heaven itself shall help the fray, For the sake of him who is far away. feel, and from whom, when a boy, I learned the rudiments of our language, continually kept up this custom " of holding Sessions of Bards. He was well versed in Greek and Latin, and proposed to translate Homer into Irish. Yet, it was the penal time, and " on more occasions than one, he saved his life by hasty retreats from his enemies, the bard-hunters." HARDIMAN. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: PATRIOTIC. 253 CHORUS. This were the choice of the world for me, To sail with him the shining sea, With him to be, at the dawn of day, Over the hills and far away ! THE SPIRIT OF SONG. PATRICK MAC GEAROIT (FITZGERALD), A.D. 1764. A DARK mist druidic closed o'er me As, wearied of woods and astray, I saw the weird lake gleam before me Of Blarney, and fain I would stay : The branches of blossoms drooped over When, sudden, She came to my side, In beauty far fairer than lover Had ever, since Eden, espied ! My heart beat with rapture, and brightened My soul to that Sprite from above ; The smile from her blue eyes that lightened Sent my bosom a-thrilling with love. berry-red cheeks ! and O cluster Of curling gold hair to the knee ! 1 could gaze the whole night on your lustre And the night seem a minute to me ! 254 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. " The Brink of White Rocks l has it been a Retreat for thy beauty ? " I said, " Art thou Aine", or Miorras, or Cliona, O gentle and snowy-palmed maid ? Art thou Deirdre", whose wonderful fairness Lured a Crimson Branch Knight o'er the sea ? Hast thou tidings of rue or of rareness From wand'rings to whisper to me ? " " For the clans of high Miled I'm grieving, Of that flower of the brave is my race, And long I have mourned in Ban-eeving 2 To hear their gay cheer in the chase. But hark ! of the Viscount of Blarney Soon the voice in yon turrets shall ring, And our Exile be victor in war, nay ! Three islands shall crown him their king. " These tidings thy kinsmen to charm or To frighten their foes bear away, Our warriors in Spain don their armour, And swift sailing barks fill the bay : 1 Aeivil was the Fairy Queen of the North, Mab (Madb) was the Fairy Queen of Connaught, and Cliona (pronounced Cleena) of the South. The Wave of Cliona is off Cape Clear, but her chief residence, the headquarters of all the Munster fairies, was in a wild mountain region, near Mallow and the Cross of Donoch- more. 2 "Ban aeibinn" the pleasant "bawn" or mead of Blarney, which belonged to McCarthy Mor. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: PATRIOTIC. 255 They'll wing to green Erinn, their way, tide And tempest shall scatter the foe, And Freedom shall gladden ere May-tide The true-hearted Lordly and Low. " O Bard, skilled in musical cadence, Come flee with me down to Tyrone, Where an hundred of silken-bright maidens, In druid enchantment are thrown. We'll have festivals, dancing, and gladness, The harps shall their melodies pour, The fairest shall love thee to madness, And youth shall rejoice thee once more." " O Bridi, 1 of Fairies the fairest ! An thou give but a month and a day, To prepare for the life thou preparest, I'll haste to thy side and away. The beloved of my youth I must give her Farewell, and my blessing for aye ; Then from thee, Spirit sweet, if I sever, May I swiftly go down to the clay ! " 1 The Gaelic goddess of poetry. 256 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. THE DEAR WHITE YOUTH. SEAN O'COILEANN.* Air: "An Cdilin donn." THE golden gleaming of dawn shone streaming O'er leafy oaks by the lonely shore, Where to me came, in my visioned dreaming, A Maid celestial the south sea o'er. Her brow was brighter than stars that light our Dim dewy earth ere the summer dawn ; But she sighed, deploring, " My heart of sorrow ! Ne'er brings a morrow, Mo Buachaill Ban? Her teeth were pearlets, her curling tresses All golden flowed to the shining sea, Soft hands and spray white, such brows as traces The artist's pen with most grace, had she. Lo, all the splendour of sunshine dancing Thro' snowy lilies her cheeks upon ! But the royal light of her clear eyes' glancing With tears was darkened for Buachaill Ban / 1 Sometimes written O'Cullane, and (wrongly) Collins. The bard, one of the O'Coileanns, chiefs of Castlelyons, was born about the year 1754, in Cork County, and died in 1816. He composed several fine poems, e.g., a " Lament for Timoleague Abbey," trans- lated by Sir Samuel Ferguson. 2 Buachaill Ban (pronounced Bohill Bawn) means fair or white Youth. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY : PATRIOTIC. 257 I lowly bowed to this Maid of glory, The bright, the beauteous, the faultless flow'r ! And sought the lay of her sorrow's story, The race that owned such a peerless dow'r. " Art child of gods of the olden sky ? is 't An earthly King who thy love has won ? O name this Highest, whose fate thou sighest, For whom thou diest, thy Buachaill Ban. " Art thou that Star of all maids for beauty, Though clouded now in a night of grief, Since false King Connor broke faith and duty And Naisi slew thy heroic chief? Or wailing Spirit who, on Moyle's water, Lir's lovely daughter, wert once a swan, A Red Branch Knight who lies low in slaughter, Was he thy darling, thy Buachaill Bdn ? " " O none of these," said the wondrous Maiden, " I am Fola, Queen of the Gael ! With foreign fetters my clans are laden, My chiefs are bondsmen in Innisfail ! In wasting woe I've been long a griever For one true heir to victorious Conn, The exiled offspring of royal Eiver, My love for ever, my Buachaill Ban." " O, noble Lady ! weep now no longer, Take comfort, heart, all so worn with grief ! 258 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. He comes, thy champion, from exile stronger With arms and armies to thy relief; Their hosts are nearing the shores of Erinn, In tall barks steering the seas upon, Soon thou shalt crown with thy hand victorious Thy lover glorious, thy Buachaill Ban ! " Her sorrow fleeted, she struck the golden High ringing harp with her snowy hand, And poured in music the regal, olden, The lofty lays of a free-made land, The birds, the brooks, and the breeze seemed springing From grief to gladness that sunny dawn, And all the woods with delight were ringing So sweet her singing for Buachaill Ban I THE CRUISKEEN LAUN. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. O SONS of noble Erinn, I've tidings of high daring To brighten now your faces pale and wan : Then hearken, gather nearer, In Gaelic ringing clearer, We'll pledge them in a cruiskeen Ian, Ian, Ian, 1 We'll pledge them in a cruiskeen Ian ! 1 Crusga is a jar (compare the German krug, and French crucAe), and cruisgin, its diminutive, is a little jar : Ian (pronounced laun) means full, and slan (pronounced slaun) safe. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: PATRIOTIC. 259 Olfameed an cruiskeen, Slainte gal mo vuirneen ! 1 In motion, over ocean, slan, slan, slan ! In exile dark and dreary, Wandering far and weary, With friends that never failed, I have gone, The trusted and true-hearted, Would God, we'd never parted Our brothers, boys, a cruiskeen Ian, Ian, Ian ! Our heroes in a cruiskeen Ian. Heav'n speed them over ocean, With breeze of rapid motion, The ships that King Charles sails upon; With troops the frank and fearless, To win our Freedom peerless, Our Freedom, boys, a cruiskeen Ian, Ian, la"n ! Our Freedom, in a cruiskeen Ian ! Young men who now are sharing The toast we raise to Erinn, With hope that the King is coming on, Grasp your guns and lances For swift his host advances, We'll toast them in a cruiskeen Ian, Ian, Ian ! We'll toast them in a cruiskeen Ian ! 1 " Let us drink the cruiskeen the bright health of my darling." This is the earliest Irish song which I have seen of this name : it must have suggested the popular song in English. 26O BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. The tribe who would destroy all Our rightful princes royal Shall hence end their rule and begone ; The Gael shall live in gladness, And banished be all sadness. To that time, then, a cruiskeen Ian, Ian, Ian ! That time, boys, a cruiskeen la"n ! Olfameed an cruiskeen, Slaint gal mo vuirneen, In motion, over ocean, slan, slan, slan ! SHIELA GAL NI CONNOLAN. 1 WILLIAM O'LEANAIN,* 1750. Air : " Moirin ni Chuillionam" ALONE, at dim dawn early, I stood within the islet bowers, Where Lawin's stream flows pearly 'Mid wavy grass and fragrant flowers ; Green earth gave fruits unchary, And rosy wines, they over-ran For me, from nymphs of faery Like Shiela gal ni Connolan ! 1 Bright Shiela ni Connolan. 2 This name is now sometimes written Lenane, Lennon, and (wrongly) Leonard. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: PATRIOTIC. 26l Fair flocks of birds sang sweetly 'Mid floods of flowers, their pleasant home, And in the stream-isle meetly I broke the golden honey-comb : When lo ! on brink tree-shady, A Child of Glory on me shone, With features like our Lady Our Shiela gal ni Connolan ! In beauty white, this daughter Of graceful majesty was drest, Like swans above the water The snowy radiance of her breast. On her cheek the crimson berry Lay in the lily's bosom wan, And forth my love did hurry To Shiela gal ni Connolan ! Her teeth were small and pearl-like, And white as brightness of the blooms ; Her lustrous palms were fair like Downy silk from finest looms ; No gems or 'broidered glove or Red gold her fingers glittered on, O, in meanest garb I'd love her Fair Shiela gal ni Connolan ! Her rose-red lips beguiling Spake words more than honey sweet, 262 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. And o'er her glad eyes smiling Were pencilled eyebrows arching meet, As if some artist loreful Twin bows with compass fine had drawn. I'd not leave for empires oreful Sweet Shiela gal ni Connolan ! In truth, I'll lose all gladness With wasting love for her, the Sprite Who clings with yearning sadness To Eire's woods and valleys bright. My arrowy piercing sorrow Would vanish swiftly, blue-eyed one ! If far and free to-morrow With Shiela gal ni Connolan ! Her clustering, loosened tresses Flowed glossily, enwreathed with pearls, To veil her breast with kisses And sunny rays of golden curls ! But grief has pierced my bosom My weary days lag 'neath a ban Thro' thy beauty, O white Blossom ! O Shiela gal ni Connolan. When birds, 'mid branches twining, Beheld her eyes, they thought them, sure, Two rays of sun, or shining Beams from the crystal pure ; EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: PATRIOTIC. 263 When rose her sweet voice ringing, They strove to peer its mellow tone, But were vanquished by the singing Of Shiela gal ni Connolan ! While o'er the smooth stream glancing, A moment ere her form I spied, I saw her shadows dancing Deep in the glassy limpid tide I thought some fairy rarest, Had playful 'mid the waters gone, Till I saw thee near, my Fairest Bright Shiela gal ni Connolan ! As sunbeam through the blue air, Or light above the ocean's tide, Her flashing glances flew there, And thrilled my very heart inside. theirs was all the brightness That shines from heaven's starry van. Their light has darked my lightness Dear Shiela gal ni Connolan ! 1 thought to win her graces And love-smile on that rosy morn, In those green islet-places Beneath the shady forest-thorn. But she vowed, with fiery fervour, To never grant her love to man, 264 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Till came her Strong to serve her True Shiela gal ni Connolan ! " No foreign tyrant lover Nor slave who bends to him the knee, Till judgment day be over, Need hope to win a smile from me ; I'll brook not lord in age or In youth, of whatsoever clan, Till come the Gael to wage war For Shiela gal ni Connolan. Then bards and books shall flourish, And gladness light the looks of all, Then gen'rous knights shall nourish Our olden fame of open hall. Brave men and chiefs to lead them Shall flash their spears in valour's van, And glorious days of freedom Crown Shiela gal ni Connolan ! " THE JOYFUL RETURNING. TADG O'NEACHTAiN. 1 HEALTH to the Chief! the Chief! the Chief! Health to the Chief returning 1 This name is sometimes written Naughton, and (wrongly) Norton. The bard was probably akin to Sean O'Neachtain, who was born in EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: PATRIOTIC. 265 Over the wave, Back to the Brave, Home to the House of Mourning ! Cormac and Conn, and Diarmad Bonn, Up and away with sleeping ! Night has ended, Dawn descended, Up, to your lances leaping ! This is the time for testing men, This is the time for trial Silken store, Gold go leor, Beer, too, and banquets royal Horns of the wine, and cups that shine, Brim for the men who need 'em, Money and mirth, For Joy of Earth ! Hither again comes Freedom ! Bells a-tolling, drums a-rolling, Trumpets tell the story ! Damsels dancing, Bonfires glancing, Bright is the path of glory ! Meath at the beginning of the eighteenth century, and who was (says Hardiman) a distinguished and learned author. 266 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Health to the Exile, banished long Health to our Chief returning With weal for woe ! Friend for foe ! And joyful Hope for Mourning ! THE SONG OF ECHO. 1 BRIAN MAC GIOLLA MEiDRE. 2 DAWN came softly, as a dove, O'er the cove of slumb'ring ocean ; Bending boughs were thrilled, above, With cooing love and sweet commotion. All around, from blossomed bowers, Fragrant flow'rs sent odours airy ; Lo, there shone a radiant light A brilliant, bright, and noble Fairy ! Ah, she wept in weary woe, Her accents low, her full tears flowing, 1 Echo, in Irish, is " Mac Alia : " " Son of the Rock." 2 This name may be pronounced Mac Gillamery, but is usually (and wrongly) made "Merryman." The bard, who died in 1808, was a native of Clare. He is chiefly known by a long poem, composed in classic metre, the " Midnight Court," in which are told the proceeding of a "Cour d'Amour," which sate to solve problems pertaining to love and marriage. The conception of Echo sorrowing with her Country is surely that of a true poet. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY : PATRIOTIC. 267 Her sobbing sighs came sad and slow, Her tresses go on breezes blowing, Bowed the head that once was high, Dim her eye, with woe and worry, It rent the heart to hear her sigh So sad, and sick, and sore, and sorry. " Now," she said, " I'm lorn and lone, As, 'neath stone, a corpse of coldness ; Darts go through me, friends I've none, Gone is Thomond's ancient boldness. Faint my spirit now and sore, Strength is o'er, my heart is breaking ; Down the breeze a venom blows Cause of woes a Shrew is shrieking ! " Long I've lain 'neath Druid sway, Whose cry was gay, from hill to hollow ; All I've answered, night or day, Faithful still their fate I follow. No horn of Chieftain on the height, No murmur slight of billow dying, But found responses, loud or light Thou, aright, heard my replying. " Once my accents bore command O'er the land, like mellow thunder : Conn I sang, and Eoghan's fight, Mac Morna's might, and Finn, our Wonder ! 268 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. From wood and scar, I sped afar Of noble war the rolling clangour, My bosom's sword ! now, no such lord Starts from the sward in awful anger. " Last I told our grief of griefs, The Flight of Chiefs o'er foreign water ; The Fall of Erinn's fairest flow'r, William's power, and Aughrim's slaughter : The bullet flies, my wild notes rise With battle's cries, and cannon's roaring ; They kill, they kill ; my wail is shrill A wounded Nation still deploring. " Vaunt not yet, though faint I seem, Ye shall not deem me lost for ever ; Though ruin roll in sullen stream, And Morning's beam appeareth never. I a thousand fights have seen, And I have been, by fetters, bounded, And I have served and sung My Queen When foe on foe went under, wounded ! " THE FOREST FAIR. SEAN O'COILEAIN. ONCE beside the corrie, Musing sad and sorry, EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: PATRIOTIC. 269 I saw within the forest The fairest maiden dear. The song of sweet bird follows, Fawn and doe draw near, And from the river hollows The fish leap up to hear. How curling, gleaming, glowing, Softly, smoothly, blowing, Her tresses full and flowing A shining Golden Fleece ! More fair her teeth and shoulder Than glint of snowy geese, 'Twas star-like to behold her With small rose-lips of peace. She sang her race and story, Not hers the Gentiles gory Her heart glowed with the glory Of Heber high and free : Though long her Royal lover Did ban of exile dree, Now Conqu'ror he comes over, And Crowned across the sea ! 270 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. IN PRAISE OF THE GAELIC. OUR Gaelic speech has high repute, It speaks as soft as breathes the flute, It sings like love-notes of the lute, And shines in letters golden. No tongue on earth could e'er compare In tuneful tone and cadence rare, And, O to hear its accents, where In song and tale Through Innisfail, Of mighty kings and chiefs it sings For Erinn's nation olden ! And Erinn yet shall have her own Right royal princes on the throne, To whom the Gaelic speech is known, And welcome in our sireland. The gentle harp shall sound once more, And prosp'rous be the sons of lore, And, proud, the gallant deeds of yore Before the king The bards will sing And there recall the stories all That give renown to Ireland ! EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: PATRIOTIC. 2?I GRAINNE MAEL. 1 SEAN CLARACH MAC DONNEL. ABOVE the bay, at dawn of day, I dreamt there came The beautiful the wonderful the dear, bright dame ! Her clustered hair, with lustre fair, lit all the vale She came a Star, with fame afar, Our Grainn Mael ! "I pray thee hear, O Lady dear, O faultless Fair! Rejoice our souls, with voice that rolls, like music rare ; We're sorrowful, we're weariful our Hope grows pale, For the coming of her promised Love to Grainn Mael." " O faithfullest and gratefullest of friends, I vow The Night is past, the Light at last will beam forth now, Our warriors, long tarriers, will set swift sail In motion true, o'er ocean blue, to Grainne Mael ! "The thrushes seen, in bushes green, are singing loud ' Bid sadness go, and gladness glow, give welcome proud ! The Rover comes, the Lover, whom you long bewail, O'er sunny seas, with honey breeze, to Grainn Mael !'" 1 Pronounced Graunia Wael, the m being modified. This is one of the endearing names given to Ireland, in the Penal times. 2/2 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. THE SKY-MAIDEN. DAVID O'HERLiHY. 1 THE Flesg's fairy numbers Had sung me to slumbers, 'Neath the wide leafy boughs of the wood ; Till I heard sweeter singing Than bird-song or harp-ringing, And beside me a Sky-maiden stood. Young Love tarried nigh her, On man making war With his arrows of fire, Till my heart did unbar Till he left me a capture To wild-throbbing rapture, In the ray of that bright beaming Star ! The lily of whiteness, The berry of brightness, In combat her fair cheek contest ; Her teeth were the fairest, Her small rose-lips rarest, Her blue eyes made beauty their guest ; 1 Of Glenflesk, in western Cork. The bard was hereditary Warden of St. Gobnet's church. The Vision is that of Erinn. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: PATRIOTIC. 2/3 Her bosom, soft, beaming, Was snowy and free ; Her neck was, in seeming, The swan on the sea ; From brow, bright and pearly, Her gold curls flowed fairly To her small twinkling feet on the lea. My heart had been teeming With grief, for in dreaming, I had dreamed of the World and its guile ; But my waking was splendid, My Love-Star had descended, 'Mid the green leafy grove of the isle ! The sun-sheen poured light on Each bough of each tree, The sun-sheen fell bright on Each grass-tip in glee, And my Pearl's sheen was streaming With such brilliance of beaming That good Fortune gave pledges to me ! Where the river is ringing, That Sky-maid is singing, And the birds' mellow music flows clear : The branches are bowers Of sweet-scented flowers, There is honey in mossy banks near. And hither hares peeping, T 274 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. 'Mid wood-creatures stare, The foxes come creeping From out of their lair All come full of gladness, For Her voice would chase sadness, 'Tweuld give joy to the Clansmen of Care ! FLORA McDONALD. 1 HAD you seen Flora at dew-dawn alone, Her tresses of gold by the sea-breezes blown, No jewel she wore, but lamenting did go And smiting her fair hands in sorrow and woe. The briars of the mountains had wounded her sore, Her eyes were like fountains with tears flowing o'er, Her troubled heart forced her a watcher to be In hope of beholding some ship on the sea. I hearkened, with grieving, the plaint that she made, And fain would have freed her from sorrow's cold shade. She spoke, and her sigh would have rended a stone, " O dark darling Charles, 'tis for thee I make moan. 1 It is interesting to discover, in Irish, this tribute of song to the brave and loyal Scottish heroine, and to find that it was popular over all Ulster. O'Keamey, Irish MSS. Royal Irish Academy. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY : PATRIOTIC. 2/5 " They'll follow thee over the heather and scar, A-thirsting for blood like the wolves that they are ; Nor e'en let thee lie on the rock cold and bare, To the cave by the billows, they'd follow thee there ! " Why fear they a fugitive, lorn, in defeat No sentry, save hunger, to guard thy retreat ? Yet 'tis oft in thy perils, by forest and field, The hosts of high Heaven were thy shelter and shield ! " But with Might over Right now oppressors prevail, Stay, stay ! on the ocean there flashes a sail ! 'Tis the foam ! " and in tears died the smile bright and g a y> And I turned from her sorrow in silence away. A HEALTH TO KING PHILIP. 1 Now, friends, grasp glasses and fill up, Let your bumpers brimful be ; We'll drink to the health of King Philip And the Child who strays o'er-sea. 1 Only portion of this Jacobite song is given ; it is a type of several ballads, varying in metre rather than in ideas. The air to which it is sung supplies an element of interest. O'Daly (" Munster Poets," Second Series) says it is contained in O'Farrell's " Collection of Irish Airs," p. 150 a scarce book. Dr. W. K. Sullivan, when 270 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Too long, he wanders in sorrow, Forgetting our land and lance ; To raise grief from us, to-morrow, I travel to Spain and France. I pray the bright King of Heaven To cause the oppressors to quail, Exiled from the Woman Bereaven Our Lady, our Innis Fail ! Let Stuart sail the seas over, Bring homeward the gallant Lord Clare, - Then joyful she'll greet her True Lover, And foreigners forth shall fare ! THE ROVER. PEASANT BALLAD, 1797.' No more no more in Cashel towi I'll barter health a-raking, treating of Irish Airs composed in the gapped and diatonic quinque- grade scale of D, includes this air. "A great many Irish melodies," he writes, " have been composed in this key, and are so very peculiar and different from our modern music, that they have not yet found their way among modern musicians." ... as specimens he names Cailin a stor, Drimin dun og, and Slainte Righ Philib or " a health to King Philip." Sullivan, "Introduction to O'Curry's ' Manners and Customs,'" Vol. I., 1873. 1 The Irish name " Spailpin fanach," the "Roving Spalpeen," designates one of the flock of migratory labourers, once so com- EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: PATRIOTIC. 2/7 Nor on days of fairs rove up and down, Nor join the merry-making. There mounted farmers came in throng To seek to hire me over, Now I'm hired, and my journey 's long, The journey of the Rover. I've found, what Rovers often do, I trod my health down fairly ; That wandering o'er the dawning dew Will gather fever early. No more shall flail swing o'er my head, Nor my hand a spade-shaft cover, But the colours of France will float, instead, And a pike stand by the Rover. When to Callan once, with hook in hand. I'd go for early shearing, Or to Dublin town, a welcome grand Met the Rover gay appearing. And soon with savings home I'd go And my mother's field delve over, But no more no more this land shall know My name as the merry Rover. Five hundred farewells, Fatherland ! My loved and lovely Island, mon, when tillage was more used in Ireland. The bard was one of those who had been dispossessed in the Penal times ; he joined the roving Bohemian band, but soon put aside the sickle for the sword. 2/8 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. And to Culach boys, they'd better stand Her guards by glen and highland. But now that I am poor and lone, A wand'rer, not in clover It makes my very heart's core moan I ever lived a Rover. In pleasant Kerry lives a girl, A girl whom I love dearly, Her cheek 's a rose, her brow 's a pearl, And her blue eyes beam so clearly! Her long fair locks fall curling down O'er a breast untouched by lover More dear than dames with a hundred pound' Is she unto the Rover. Ah, once, indeed, my own men drove My cattle in no small way, With cows, with sheep, with calves, they'd move, With horses, too, to Gal way. Christ willed I'd lose each horse and cow And my health but half recover It breaks my heart for her sake now I'm only a sorry Rover. But when once the French come o'er the main, With stout camps in the valley, With Buck O'Grady back again And poor true Taig O' Dally EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: PATRIOTIC. 2/9 The royal barracks shall fall away, The yeomen we'll chase over, And the Gaelic clan shall bear the sway 'Tis the strong hope of the Rover. SONG OF THE DEAD INSURGENT. 1798. MICHAEL OG O'LoNGAiN. 1 ON Whit Monday morning, The Goblin-foes begin, They come, with scoff and scorning, And fill the vale with din. We flash the fire before us, We smite around in chorus, We raise the druid-mist o'er us And let the sunshine in ! 1 The bard was a member of a respectable intellectual family. His grandfather was agent to the Knight of Glyn (Limerick), but when the Knight's brother, by conforming, got possession of the estate, O'Longain refused to serve him. He settled near Carrignavar, in Cork county. As he took part in the Insurrection of 1798, with which his district sympathized, he narrowly escaped death. He was an Irish scholar, as were his son, Michael 6g, and his grandson, who was scribe to the Royal Irish Academy. There is poetry in the con- ception of a dead combatant sending from his Wexford grave a message to his native South. History should take interest in the statement as regards the number of Ulster and Connacht allies who went to battle in Wexford. The fact that Munster did not join generally in the Insurrection of 1798 has not been understood by 280 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. From Ulster come two thousand True heroes to the fray, Like hosts in Connacht rouse and Advance with courage gay. Our rest was short and scanty, We gave them battles twenty, And saw the dead in plenty, At dark'ning close of day. Take Munster home my greeting, O Comrade, kind and good ! And say we faced the meeting And armies strong withstood. Say, children now are cheerless, That maidens, once so peerless, With true men, frank and fearless, Are lying in their blood. My woe on Munster's slumbers, When we rose out to fight, And fronted tyrant numbers With weapons keen and bright. writers. Its quiescence was the result, not of loyalty to the Irish Parliament or Government, then in the hands of a cabal, but of its Jacobite and anti-Jacobin principles. Many families had kinsmen in the " La Brigade irlandaise," and were royalists ; the Reign of Terror, with its massacres, did not win them and drove many of their kindred home. In Ulster and Leinster such intimate relations with the Continent did not exist, and republican enthusiasm spread. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY : PATRIOTIC. 28l But now that all is over, And fierce foes o'er us hover, Tell Leinster true, I love her Who kept the flame alight ! O youth, if 'mid the Living, They question of that day, And ask you how I've striven And where I passed away Then say to each beholder, That no man battled bolder, Though I, forgotten, moulder, Beneath the mountain clay. THE SLIGHT RED STEED. A.D. 1798. I SLEPT when, O wonder ! Dread sounds precede, Thro' south-clouds in thunder Flashed Knight and Steed ! " Ho, bard, dost thou slumber Or hast thou life ? Rouse, rouse thee our number Is armed for strife ! " 282 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. I sprang, pale, affrighted, In visioned dream, All voiceless, benighted, I some time seem ; The sweat-drops rolled under By terror freed, And my Soul leaped in wonder On the Slight Red Steed. Soon, thousands of warriors We stood among, In a lios : armed barriers 'Gainst grief and wrong. Then queried I, sudden, That brave, bright band : " Shall the Gael aye be trodden In their Fathers' Land ? " These tidings of glory Were told to me, By my hand, 'twas a story Of rapturous glee. The spells of Clan London Shall henceforth fail, And their power be undone Before the Gael. 1 Fairy Fort. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY : PATRIOTIC. 283 What a joy to our sireland, What heart's delight- When Freedom to Ireland Comes through the night Like sunshine adorning The dew-white mead, Through clouds of the morning, On the Slight Red Steed ! THE GAY AND GALLANT GAEL. CONCOBAR O' RlORDAIN. WHEN the gay and gallant Gael were alive in the Land The lays were lightning flashes, the lore a blazing brand ; Brave and bright-eyed princes met bards with honour grand When the gay and gallant Gael were alive in the Land ! Full gracious were the chieftains, the champion men of might, The scatt'ring shatt'ring Spears of Fame, the Shields of Valour bright ! Most modest, mild, and mirthful, each beauteous maiden bland, When the gay and gallant Gael were alive in the Land ! 284 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Ah, did our fathers live the life, those peerless knights of yore, The Sire of all the Munster land the dauntless Eogan M6r, Mac Airt, Mac Cuinn or that high host, the fearless Finnian band They would drive like shiv'ring sheep the gaunt Gall from the Land. O, did they live the life again, those hero-hosts so gay, Who fought with Conn the Hundred Fights, with Eogan urged the fray, Or had we here Turgesius's foes the Gall would shun the strand, And the gay and gallant Gael be alive in the Land ! XII. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY : SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS, ETC. CEANN DUV DILIS. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. BLACK head dearest, dearest, dearest ! Lay thy hand, dearest ! my hand above ; Small mouth of honey, thyme-scented, sunny No heart that lives could refuse thee love ! The maids of the vale in their sorrow are sighing, Their long tresses flying all loose in the wind, That I for the sake of my Darling am dying, And grieving and leaving those who are kind. Black head dearest, dearest, dearest ! Lay thy head, dearest ! my heart above ; Small mouth of honey, thyme-scented, sunny No heart that lives could refuse thee love ! 1 Pronounced Kan doov deelish. No date was assigned to this poem by Hardiman : it (and possibly others) may belong to the sixteenth or seventeenth centuries. Miss Dora Sigerson (now Mrs. Clement King Shorter) has a true Irish poem with this title ("Poems," Elliot Stock, 1894). 286 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. THE DARK GIRL OF THE GLEN. 1 AUTHOR UNKNOWN. O HAVE you seen, or have you heard, the darling of all delight ? In glens of gloom, I wander lone, without rest in the day or night. Her quiet eyes distress me, they trouble the heart in me My blessing go before her still, wherever on earth she be ! What songs have sung thy slender shape, the curve of thy graceful brow ! Thy small sweet mouth that never, I think, could wound by deceiving vow, Thy hand more bright and soft than silk, or down of the birds above I'm vexed and fretted whenever I think I'd part with the girl I love. So sharp the pang, I faint, I flee, when her presence I do behold, Her glowing cheek, her pearly teeth, her flowing tresses of gold, More bright that sight than Deirdre"s self, who lowered King Conor's pride, More fair than blue-eyed Blanaid, for whom thousands of heroes died. 1 Original in Miss Brooke's "Reliques of Irish Poetry," 1819. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 287 O, flow'r of Maids, forsake me not for glitter of worldly gain, Unsung, unpraised, unprized it is, but by flattery's noisy train Whilst I would sing brave Irish songs, when harvest nights grow cold, And tell the tale of Fianna chiefs and the warrior Kings of old ! THE BARD AND MISFORTUNE. WILLIAM FITZGERALD. THE BARD. PASS on, Misfortune, much you weary me, Stay not on straw, nor such discomfort dree ; Go forth silk couches wait you now, and see ! What dainty dishes, where red wines run free. MISFORTUNE. Not I, my Cousin, hence I will not flee, I've arrows still unsped, my poet's fee : I'll guide the gray rain through your low roof-tree, And here are thorns of sickness still for thee. 288 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. A FAR FAREWELL. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. 'Tis mad to leap the lofty wall and strain a gallant steed, When close beside is the flow'ry fence to vault across at need, bitter the bright red berries that high on the Rowan grow, But fresh and sweet the fruit we meet on the fragrant plant below. Farewell, farewell a thousand times to the green town of the trees, Farewell to every homestead there from o'er the surging seas ; Ah, many a wild and watery way, and many a ridge of foam Keep far apart my lonely heart and the maid I love at home. 1 move 'mid men but, always, their voices faint away, And my mind awakes and I hear again the words her dear lips say ; Her sparkling glance, her glowing cheek, her lovely form I see As flowers that grow, like flakes of snow, on the black and leafless tree. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 289 If you go from me, Vuirneen, safe may you depart ! Within my bosom I feel it, you've killed my very heart No arm can swim, no boat can row, nor bark can mariner guide O'er the waves of that woeful Ocean that our two lives divide. LAMENT FOR O'CAROLAN THE MINSTREL. 1 BY MAC AIB, 1738. MY grief, my wounding, my anguish, My sickness long, Thy sweet harp-chords now languish Without touch or song. Who hence shall make music, vying 'Mid chiefs, for aye, Since thou, O my friend, art lying Cold in the clay. 1 O'Carolan was born at Nobber, Meath, in 1670; he lived for a time in Leitrim, died and was buried at Kilronan, Fermanagh, in 1738. This elegy by a brother bard, Mac Aib (now Mac Cabe) shows how greatly he was esteemed and loved by those who knew him. Four notable things he did : (i) He composed many exquisite airs ; (2) adapting words to these, he made a revolution in Irish verse- methods ; (3) his vivacious and inspiriting minstrelsy cheered the heart of his nation throughout the Penal Regime, and largely con- tributed to give gaiety a place in the Irish character ; (4) his genius, delighting all classes, made him an honoured guest amongst the Williamites as amongst the Jacobites, softened animosities, and helped to fuse them into one people. He had one failing : at a time when all were convivial, he was convivial ; in the case of stupid U BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. I rise, I behold, every morning A land woe-smit ; Till black is the west, in mourning On hills I sit. Saviour, comfort me pleading, My life 's grown dim, My eyes have become two bleeding Founts after him. Thy life was a poem noble, My king-friend, proud : 1 go sleepless all night with trouble My mind one cloud, Through my heart's core pains are flying Of piercing woe, For Toralach O'Carolan, lying Lifeless and low. St. Francis, St. Dominic, listen, St. Clare, and all Ye host of the saints, who glisten On heaven's high wall : Give welcome to Toralach's spirit Your ramparts among, And the voice of his harp ye shall hear it With glorious song ! persons, who have endowed the world with nothing, this failing is passed over ; in the case of any man whose genius has made him a benefactor, it affords a welcome theme for censure to that respectable class the men of no genius. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 291 THE DELLS OF ORRERIE. SEAN CLARACH MAC DONNELL. Air : " A Feather-bed and Bedsticks." THE drowsy dawn Half oped his eye, A red ray shone Across the sky ; And o'er dim lawn The sun rose high In chariot bright and golden ! I wandered then, From sorrow free, O'er dale and fen Of Orrerie, Through pleasant glen And greenwood lea, 'Mid mossy trunks and olden. Not far or wide Had been my way, Till lo ! I spied The graceful fay Of maids the pride With heart so gay And showers of curling tresses ! 2Q2 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Quick leaped I o'er The bramble screen, And bowed before Her beauteous mien, And prayed full sore From her, my queen, A thousand sweet caresses. Thus sighed my pray'r : " O radiant sprite ! O, branch most fair Of beauty bright ! 'Twill cause despair As black as night If pleasantly you flee not " Come seek some glade Beside the sea, From every shade Of sorrow free, Or, peerless maid, A st6r mo chree ! l In life I'll shortly be not. : ' " O minstrel, pause Fair youth, beware ! For I must cause That black despair SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 293 Though ne'er there was A suit more fair Tis all lost time and labour ! " For sure you know That God above, Who made earth grow With grass and grove, Said long ago : ' Thou shalt not love The wed wife of your neighbour ! ' " MAIRE NI MILLEOIN. 1 AUTHOR UNKNOWN. " WILL you come where golden gorse I mow, Mo Mauria ni Mille6in ? " " To bind for you I'll gladly go, My Share of Life, my own ! " " To chapel, too, I would repair Though not to aid my soul in prayer, But just to gaze with rapture, where You stand, Mo buachil baun ! 2 1 Maire ni Milleoin, pronounced Mauria nee Milone : in the vocative Mauria is softened to Vauria, hence in the ballad it becomes O Vauria. ' J My white or fair youth. 294 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. " Will you rove the garden glades with me ; O Flower of Maids, alone ? " " What wondrous scenes therein to see, My Share of Life, my own ? " " The apples from green boughs to strike, To watch the trout leap from the lake, And caress a pretty colleen, like Mo Mauria ni Mille6in ! " " Will you seek with me the dim church aisle, O Mauria ni Milledin ? " " What pleasant scenes to see, the while My Share of Life, my own ? " "We'd list the chanting voice and pray'r Of foreign pastor preaching there, And we'd finish the marriage with my fair White Flower of Maids alone ! " She sought the dim church aisle with me, My Share of Life, so fair ! She sought the dim church aisle with me, O grief! O burning care ! I plunged my glitt'ring, keen-edged blade In the bosom of that loving maid, Till gushed her heart's blood, warm and red, Upon the cold ground there ! SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 295 " Alas, what deed is this you do, My Share of Life, mo stdr l What woeful deed is this you do O youth whom I adore ! Ah, spare your child and me, my love, And the seven lands of Earth I'll rove, Ere cause of care to you I prove For ever ever more ! " I bore her to the mountain peak, The Flower of Maids, so lone ! I bore her to the mountain bleak, My thousand loves ! mo vrdn ! 2 I cast my coat around her there And, 'mid the murky mists of air, I fled, with bleeding feet and bare, From Mauria ni Milleoin ! THE SWEET LITTLE CUCKOO. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. 'Tis in the night I suffer woe, Within my heart the shadows go, Since I fell in love with my fair foe The faultless, high-bred maiden. 1 My treasure. 2 My grief. 296 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. O God, that fate, in an hour of ruth, Would bear us both to the Land of Youth, Then days of delight would dawn in sooth ! Friends and foes should stay behind, Suitors and sorrows go in the wind, And some cold isle be laid in. The voice of birds from blossomed tree Should give us musical minstrelsie, How sweet that these should neighbours be With gladness every morrow. For now I am worn with weary pain, A full long year I've borne in vain, My heart's hot fire still burns amain. O Lord of life, look down, I pray, Or soon I must lie in the quiet clay, My head brought low with sorrow. My aged sire, my sister dear, In woe they walk, they live in fear ; My strength is going, the end draws near 'Tis gone, the manly bearing ; Through the sinless cause my Love snow-white More fair her brow than silver bright, Her very glance would fill with light The darkest dell of the misty South, And sweeter a kiss from her little mouth Than all the honey of Erinn ! SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 297 MY WISHES. PATRICK O'HELiDE. 1 COULD I give to my wishes relief And shape for my lifetime a lease, I would be like the happy old chief, In alliance with no one but peace. I would make of my acre or two My kingdom and never seek pelf, And large I'd consider it, too, And loyal 'twould be to myself. My subject, the farm, would grow fat With share of the finest of grain, Which no wetness nor wind should come at Save in welcoming seasons of rain. My castlekin still would be gay And full of all kinds of delight ; And sweet would the song be, by day, And pleasant the book towards night. My cot would be airy to view, In a nook by the wood and the well, Where, on waking, each dawning of dew, I'd hear the sweet bird-music swell. This name is now usually written O'Hely or O'Healy. 298 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. The many-flowered grassy-edged stream Would hum through bright fruit and new corn, And would glitter and glimmer and gleam With trout dancing up to the morn. To cap all my pleasure and pride, And the comfort of youth to complete, I'd choose me a winsome young bride, Sweet-tempered and comely and neat. Her age should be nineteen, the best, My own should be just twenty-four, And the heart would leap up in my breast To see our babe smile at the door. THE CLUSTER OF CURLS. WILLIAM INGLIS.* Air : " Rbis geal dub." No sweet hope, no gladness Comes ever to me, But deep woe and sadness Wherever I be, 1 William Inglis (wrongly English) was born at Newcastle, Limerick, taught contraband classics for a time, and wrote some beautiful Gaelic songs. He relinquished song-writing on becoming an Augustinian friar, but made an exception of one humorous satire. He died in 1778 in Cork, and was buried in St. John's Churchyard. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 299 sistreen 1 of tresses That sweep to the dew Who caused my distresses Don't keep me in rue. How fine in its splendour Thy hair flowing down ! Thine eyebrows so slender Were formed not to frown. 1 pine heavy-hearted In pain, night and day, From the Curl-cluster parted By fate in the way. O, brown head of beauty ! Thou'st conquered my heart ; I'm mournful and moody Whenever we part. A Vuirnin ! I sue thee For heaven above, Thou hast sped the wound thro' me, Then save me, my love ! O bright as the berry 's The cheek of my love, As foam by the ferry 's Her white brow above. 1 Sistreen : Irish diminutive of sister. 30O BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. The voice of the maiden 's The harp's melody, Its musical cadence Has caused death to me. I travel the mountain All weary and worn, My heart is a fountain Of tears, for her scorn. As I rove, when I ponder My love and my woe, I ramble, I wander, I stray to and fro. O dearest, O fairest, O Love of my breast ! 'Mid the noblest and rarest Thy sires were the best. I'm wasting in anguish, All pleasures have flown ; For thy sake I languish, For thee I make moan. Through country, through city, Each day of my days, Without hope or pity I move in a maze. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 301 I see maidens rarest, And still see but thee, Who art fair o'er the fairest And dearest to me. THE FLOWER OF LOVE. Bv WILLIAM INGLIS, 1740. THERE 's a maiden fair to see, A fair maid known to me. With tresses bright, With looks of light, All gladsome grace is she. The harp gives sweetest notes When her voice of music floats, My woe, my loss ! I may not cross With her the brine of boats. There 's a stately maiden seen Of all brave youths the queen The Star of Love The Sun above The golden blithe baibin ! l 1 Pronounced baubeen, affectionate diminutive, "little baby. 302 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Her heart 's a spotless shrine Of noble gifts divine. My loss, my woe ! 'Twere joy to go With her beyond the brine. Her curling golden hair, That flows to feet so fair, Floats out to please The laughing breeze, And all our hearts ensnare, With voice of tender ruth, She reads the Bible's truth : Where'er I rove May Christ's sweet love Keep ward around her youth. The crimson berry's glow Is on her cheek of snow : What joy, what pride, To win that bride, The Luck of Life below ! But now on the green brine Of barques is floating mine, And I must leave My love to grieve, My Flower of Love to pine. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 303 DOREEN LE POER. 1 ANDRIAS MAC CUIRTIN, 1737. 'Tis woe-smit I've been, And mournful my mien, Through true love, For you, Love, My soft, stately queen. None deems it disgrace To pine for that face, The fairest, The rarest, Of Adam's whole race. Thy small teeth to me Seem pearls of Tralee, Thy white breast \ The bright breast Of swan on the sea. No hand this may know Nor thy neck of snow 1 A poem of praise, made by the bard in honour of a young lady a specimen of the Vers de Socitte and Madrigals which helped to grace and sweeten society under the Penal Code. 304 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Their gladness Brings sadness, And causes my woe. I start, I awake Ere birds in the brake, Lest never I'd ever Win worth for her sake. I grieve, I repine The maid is not mine, With palace, In valleys, And walls jewelled fine. The world will not meet Such beauty to greet Glance tender In splendour, And mouth music-sweet. How lovely her mien The kind, gentle queen ! The berry On merry Bright white cheek is seen. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 305 How peerless her grace ! How priceless each tress ! All Munster Can't once stir When seen her sweet face ! THE RED FELLOW'S WIFE. 1 AUTHOR UNKNOWN. YOU'RE welcome, my love ! Of girls the fairest young girl ! Beauteous above Deirdre, tho' bright as a pearl ; The country I'd fill With conquering clamour and strife, And come to you still A slave to the Red Fellow's wife ! Love, whiter your neck Than swan that floats on the sea, And redder your cheek Than roses that blush on the tree. O sweeter by far Thy mouth than soft song of cuckoo ; Thy long tresses are More fine than the silk glossy new. 1 A very popular ballad, in Gaelic, throughout Ireland, South and North. 3O6 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. O peerless young maid, With beauty beaming all o'er, Whate'er may be said Whoe'er may desire or deplore In vain were I dumb, They all know what ruins my life, My heart-wound has come From love of the Red Fellow's wife. For ever and aye I'd warrant to ward you from ill, Your faithfullest stay If fate did not fetter your will The tribute of Troy I'd give with merriment rife, If only my joy Were never the Red Fellow's wife. O bloom-maid, I breathe A thousand of blessings to thee, I'm wounded to death, And die every minute from thee. My heart, could it speak, Would tell how deep went the knife ; Why should it not break ? My one love 's the Red Fellow's wife. If yonder, I lay In prison fettered and fast, SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 307 All chains on the clay And manacles over me cast As swan to the sea I'd fly to that gloomiest life, In hope you should be No longer the Red Fellow's wife. THE BELOVED GAELIC. WILLIAM O'LIONAIN. NEVER was heard a strain so soft A speech so noble so flood-like oft, Yet bright and sweet as a cooing rill, Never weak, but all beauteous still. Never sang Homer, old and grand, Nor brilliant Ovid, gay and bland, In language more liquid a cascade that ne'er Meets earth, a music that 's floating in air ! Than melodious tones of golden chords, Than ethereal voices of tuneful birds, Its flowing sounds more joy impart, And its noble song o'ercomes the heart ! 308 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. FAIRY MARY BARRY. AUTHOR UNKNOWN.' O FAIRY Mary Barry, I tarry down-hearted, Unknown to kith or kin, health and wealth have departed. When I'm going to my bed, or I wake in the morning, My thought is still of you and your cold, cruel scorning. fairy Mary Barry, take counsel, my bright love, Send away the stranger from out of your sight, love ; For all his fine airs there 's more truth in me, love, Then come to me, mochree ! 2 since our parents agree, love ! 1 thought I could coax you with promise and kisses, I thought I could coax you with vows and caresses, I thought I could coax you ere yellowed the barley You've left me to the New Year with sore sorrow early ! "Pis delight unto the earth when your little feet press it, Tis delight unto the earth when your sweet singings bless it, 'Tis delight unto the earth when you lie, love, upon it But, O his high delight who your heart, love, has won it ! I could wander through the streets hand-in-hand with my true love, I would sail the salt seas with no fortune but you, love ; 1 A Minister song. * My heart. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 309 My nearest and my dearest I'd leave them for ever You'd raise me from death if you said "We'll not sever." I gave you, and I gave you, I gave you my whole love, On the Festival of Mary, my poor heart you stole, love ; With your soft gray eyes like dew-drops on corn newly springing, 1 With the music of your red lips, like sweet starlings singing ! I'd toast you, and I'd toast you, I'd toast you right gladly, And if I were on ship-board, I'd toast you less sadly, If I were your sweetheart ! through Erinn so wide, love, None could see (here 's your bright health ! ) so happy a bride, love ! LOVE'S LAST APPEAL. Air : " Caislean ui Netll" 2 O DARLING and true love, In early summer, if you come with me 'Mid dim glens of dew, love, Or where the bright sun shineth free 1 See Appendix : " Green Eyes." 2 Pronounced Caushlan-o-Nail ; this air is given in Bunting's "Irish Music," p. 15, edition 1797. The words are not fashioned for form's sake, but are the earnest utterance of a breaking heart. 3IO BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Calves, kine, sheep the whitest For your fortune I'd not take that day, But my hand beneath your white waist And sweet lonely converse with you for aye ! My garden is wasted, Dear Love, have you no regret ? Fruits fall now untasted, The grass and the boughs have met. I list not the clearest Soft harp, nor the birds' sweet low wail, Since from me fled my dearest Curled Cooliun to Caislean O'Neill. I'll leave not life's battle Till conquered be fortune's fell harms, Till I've won sheep and cattle, And my darling again in my arms : The spare meals of Lent-time I'll quit not on high days of feast Sweet, swift were the spent-time I'd spend with my head on his breast. Farewell last even ! Ah, would it were back now to me, With the fair youth of Heaven Who caressed me awhile on his knee ! I'll say what bereft me Of joy but let no one know, SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. $11 My own white Love has left me O Mary, O God ! what a woe ! Sickness and sorrow Are too much around my heart, The wan tears each morrow To my eyes ever and ever start, For love and love only Of him who has left me nigh dead I cannot live lonely If the dark mountain maid he should wed. The people say ever That many a man loves me dear, But never O never Could I love whilst he is not here : I'd wander far rather Nine days, nine nights, nine weeks and ten. And sloe-berries gather Near my Love's house, to see him again ! You promised me purely You'd love me while green grasses grew, You promised me, surely, One Home between me, Love, and you. My woe on that even When I gave up my heart unto thee, O black, O bitter grieving The World 's between you, Love, and me ! 312 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. SHAUN O'DEE. PIERS FITZGERALD. I NE'ER believed the story, Prophetic bard ! you sung, How Vulcan, swart and hoary, Won Venus fair and young, Till I saw the Pearl of Whiteness By kindred forced to be, In her robe of snowy brightness The bride of Shaun O'Dee ! Nor thought the Spirit holy A bridal would allow, Where Mammon spurs them solely To crown her drooping brow. " The richest weds the rarest " l That truth, alas, I see, Since the sunny pearl and fairest Is bride t Shaun O'Dee. Were I like most, ere morrow, A dire revenge I'd take, And in his grief and sorrow My burning anguish slake : 1 "Mopso Nisa datur" is the quotation in the original. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 313 For gloom o'erclouds my lightness, O woe 's my heart to see That form of snowy whiteness Embraced by Shaun O'Dee. A RULE OF LIFE. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. I TRADUCE no man, my honour to none confide ; If I am traduced, I feel no stain abide. When men sit merry, none merrier is than I, Who in diff ring minds still find some common tie. THE CAOINE 1 OF THE CHILDREN. FiiLiM MAC CARTHY. I'LL sing their caoine, if I can My faultless four, my heart's dear clan ; Since o'er all men I'm lorn to-day, I'll sing their caoine mournfully. 1 Pronounced keene, a death-song, equivalent to the Scots' "coronach." Despoiled of his land by confiscation, Feilim McCarthy, a scion of the McCarthys Mor, took refuge amongst the mountains, where he built a shieling. During his absence seeking food, the house fell, in a storm, killing his four children. The poem has the ancient instinct of form, reserve in diction, with intense feeling. 314 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Frail my life-stay evermore, Death my heart has wounded sore ; I am alone in all the land, No kindred now shall near me stand. Since I must tell, thus left behind, The cause of tears, with darkened mind, My head is sick to-night from woe, My voice, too, faint and trembling low. Not so sad the young bride's heart, Or husband's when their loved depart ; Like bird, nest-ruined, is my lot, Wailing the young that they live not. Or like to swans, the waves among, When singing their unwilling song, As death comes nigh them and more nigh, Singing their dirge with piteous cry. I'll sing each day until my death, A lay which never sweetness hath, Since I am worn, and weak and drear, I'll sing their dirge my children dear. My grief ! in clay lies Callachan, By Cormac's side, my sweet-voiced son : Anna and Mary, too, my own White Loves, beneath the same gray stone. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 315 My children four, without a stain Few the gifts they did not gain, My bleeding heart-wound this, for aye, To wail them all, within one day. The noble boughs of Eber Mor, Erinn's prosperous King of yore, Are gone from me, in youth and bloom Unchanged, in beauty, to the tomb. Theirs no kin of craven brood, From Scythian rulers flowed their blood ; Miled's l offspring, near and far, Their kindred brave in truth ye are.\ The Spaniard-kings of sharp blue spears To these were kin, and these their peers ; To them were England's kings allied, In other times, when that gave pride. Sweet their cries whene'er I'd come, Gaily running to greet me home, Who now shall kiss or welcome me, Since they, in one grave, buried be ? Unless I looked to Christ His thorns, His anguish, cross, and cruel scorns I'd swiftly join them in the clay Or it would wrench my mind away. 1 Latinized "Milesius." 3l6 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. On seeing Lazarus lie low, Christ mourned for him in pain and woe ; With weeping tears His eyes grew dim, Yet He was far from kin to him. Tis right that I in gloom should weep, And lifelong pine in anguish deep, After my lost loved children four. The Virgin Mother sorrowed sore. Mary did not refrain from tears, Her bleeding heart was rent with spears, When He was crucified and scorned. I shame not mourning when she mourned. For I have lost my kin most near, I am robbed of all most dear, In the narrow house of pain I lie, Thrice racked with woeful misery. In hushed midnight of heavy sleep, Ah, plundered heart ! ah, ruin deep ! My stainless four, I lost them all In one brief moment tragical. How oft I thought, when gray age frowned, My children dear would gird me round ; Not that they to death would go And leave me here in helpless woe. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 317 To me my children's love was due, (I gave my whole heart unto you) Since I, too, was more aged than they, 'Twas meet respect to me they'd pay. Yet woe is me ! they've left my side, Close by my heart they did not bide, Nor let me first the dim way pass, Because that I have sinned. Alas ! Small my care for sport or rime, I'm very lone this little time ; Not sweet to me is harp or " rann," ' I wander like a witless man. Gone my aspect, gone my strength, I am broken down at length ; Death's face alone I care to see, Since all my friends are gone from me. In hushed midnight of heavy sleeping, When I am watching, sobbing, weeping, My children glide before my woe, Seeking that I should with them go. I see them in the night-time ever, From me in no place do they sever; At home, abroad, still near are they, Till I go with them to the clay. 1 Song. 318 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Sweet to them that visit made ! Dear to me each sunbright Shade ! Full soon I'll follow on their way Through God's most blessed will, I pray. Woe is me, her sorrow's pall, Who high affection gave to all, Whose heart gave life and love to each, Woe is me her plaining speech ! Woe is me, her hands now weak With smiting her white palms so meek : Wet her eyes at noon, and broken Her true heart with grief unspoken. I wonder not at her despair, She has lost life's light most fair. She, o'er all of Erinn's daughters, Has seen the ruin of dark slaughters. O Glen, which saw this ruin sore, And wrecked all joy for evermore, God's malison fall on thee, dread, In eric 1 for my darlings dead. Glen-an-air, the Slaughter-Glen, Be hence thy name amongst all men ; Venom-treason thou'st done to me And now Accursed shalt thou be ! 1 Blood-fine, or vengeance. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 319 May'st thou ne'er see sun, nor noon, May'st thou ne'er see star, nor moon, For that thou'st seen a deed of tears Which makes me old before my years. May never eye behold in thee Flower, nor grass, nor leafy tree, But dire decay deform thee, ever, By blackened banks and moaning river \ DOWN BY THE STRAND. CHRISTOPHER CoNWAY. 1 Air: "Since Cellars my foe." DOWN by the strand Lives a young maiden, bland, The fairest, The rarest, The Flower of the Land. She 's a bough of perfume With ever-bright bloom. 1 Christopher Conway, of Tigh-na-hala (House of the Swan) on the River Laune (Killorglin Parish, Kerry), composed this song in praise of Ellen, daughter of Mac Carthy Mor, his wife. The Con- ways of Kerry were of noble Welsh descent. 320 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. 'Tis my glory, Her story And deeds to illume. Dames I behold, The offspring of gold, All shining, And pining, In jewelry cold : My heart nevermore Could seek them, mo stor ! With thee, love, I'd flee, love, To Italy's shore ! THE FICKLE FAIR. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. WHEN cease the ducks upon the lake to go, When cease the swans to sail in plumes of snow, When cease the hounds to gnaw the bones, we know Deceit will cease in woman's heart to grow. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 321 A FAIR FOE. WILLIAM McCoiTER. THERE 's a shade on my soul, And my heart is in dole From pearly day dawning till soft even air, With love for the white Fresh Flower of Delight, With love for the Maid of the fair-flowing hair. Her mind is a dove, And the wit of my love Is more supple and swift than a bird on the wing ; More sweet is her mouth Than wine of the South, Or all the hill honey that Greek poets sing. To the dew-drops below Her golden curls flow, See, the flame of the berry her smooth cheek upon ! In each little ear, That no picture could peer, There sparkles a jewel as bright as the sun. 322 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Over earth far and wide Could I choose me a bride, And wed a rich daughter of royalty's line ; Through life she could be But a sorrow to me For the Flower of the World has this poor heart of mine ! AN EPIGRAM. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. HE whose paddocks are showing fat herds of kine, He whose harvests o'erflowing fill granaries fine, Sees no kinsmen, when going, if poor they pine, All are out of his knowing who do not dine ! FAREWELL TO THE MERRY MONGER. 1 SEAN O TUAMA. FAREWELL, until death, to thy brightness and thy mirth, Farewell from our priests, from the nobles of the Earth, 1 I.e. the Mangaire Sugach, a name by which Andrias MacCraith was usually known. His life, in some respects, resembled that of Burns. Having written a "Farewell to the Maig," when leaving, these verses were composed in reply : they, like others, indicate that a taste for literary composition was then common in Ireland, SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 323 Farewell from the Fair, farewell to thee from all, May it shield thee and shift thy pain's gloomy pall. My want my woe my bitter grief and sorrow ! That the gentlest, the gayest, most generous of sages, The singer of sweet song now the chill tempest rages, Should wander forlorn, night and morrow. Mac Craith, 'tis to sing of thy merits I have sought, Thou Master of Learning, thou Thinker of bright thought, The darling of damsels, the bard of sunny brow, True scion of Dalcassia's deedful race art thou. Nigh green Maig river, 'tis woeful now to stand And list the lament of the dwellers in the land, Of the people, the priests, of the lordly and the low, And see maidens mourn and tears in silence flow. 'Tis cause, sure, for gloom and for heaviness of heart, A man should have left us, a faithful friend should part, A bard of true poet-mind, generous of soul, Should wander the peaks in dreariness and dole. Ah, great is my grief that a mist should overcloud The frank fiery mind of which the land was proud, That woman should lure to darkness and disgrace One who boasts poet-gifts and noble Irish race. 324 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. And yet, this has been since the earth was in its youth, Lo, Paris of Troy to testify this truth, And Ajax, and Jason, for cause wellnigh the same To battle and to die in foreign lands ye came. And Aengus 1 and David 'twere weariness to mind Of all who found fate for the sake of womankind, Then wail not for aye thy falling from above, Since mightier than thou bore the penalty of Love. May hardship avoid thee, O dearest to my heart, Be welcomes and gladness and feasts where'er thou art, Be thy sky ever clear and thy spirit ever gay, And my Blessing thy Shield against ev'ry ill for aye. THE VISIT OF DEATH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. O YOUTH, so loved and faithless ! You've covered me with grief, You mind not my heart breaking Nor care to give relief. How great shall be your shaming If you save me not from blaming, Who swore upon the Manual To leave me not in grief. 1 Doubtless, Aeneas. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 325 Death will come to seek you A short half hour ere day, And for each guileful action He'll make you strictly pay. In the small room, lying lonely, The white shroud round you only, How gladly you'd do penance If then you found a way ! I was a happy maiden, With gladness in my voice ; You brought the sorrow with you No more can I rejoice. And now, since you're forsaking, And your path from me are taking, If I die through your heart-breaking How black will seem your choice ! I'd manage all your household With skilful hand so well, Your hose, and shirt, and raiment Would be fairest in the dell. If care or cloud hung o'er you To youth I would restore you wed me, and the Glory Of God shall with us dwell ! 1 had once no lack of clothing, Of food, or dwelling place, 326 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. I earned good fame and found it Among my kindred race : Nor could Gall or Gael l upbraid me Till your false voice it betray'd me. But the Envoy I send with you Is the Most High King of Grace ! My love ! my heart's own neighbour ! How deep to-night my woe, How dark I'll be to-morrow When you from me will go ! You've broke death's wall before me, The grave's cold breath blows o'er me, Yet take one kiss, my Darling ! Before you leave me, so. A COMPLIMENT. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. HAD I for ink the ocean, And Earth for paper white, Did ev'ry wing in motion Give me its quills to write, Were my reward the rarest All Europe's sovran might Thy virtues, O my Fairest ! I never could indite. 1 Stranger or native, friend or foe. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 327 BIRDS ON A BOUGH. Air : " There was a Maid in Bedlam.' How pleasant for the small birds To waken in the grove, And, close upon the same bough, To whisper to their love. Not thus, alas, our fortune My very heart's delight ! 'Tis far apart each morning We waken to the light. She 's fairer than the lily, Such beauty there is none : She 's sweeter than the violin, More lightsome than the sun ; But better than all beauty Her noble heart and free, O God, who art in heaven, Remove this pain from me ! 328 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. LOVELY LOCH LEIN. 1 THOUGH often I'd rove, through grove, and valley, and mount, From Shannon to Rath, each path, by fort and by fount, I saw not elsewhere so fair and so beauteous a scene As the little white town, the crown of the lovely Loch Lein. How sweet in its grace, that place with fruit ever fair, The trees white with flowers and showers of scent on the air: Waters and boats, where notes of melody pour From Ross Castle tower, the bower of dames we adore ! What damosels fair ! 'tis there is gaiety found, Red wine on the board, a hoard of dainties around ; High chase of the deer, the cheer, and winding of horn, With thrush's sweet song among the branches at morn ! I've wandered brown Beare, from there to Erne in the North I've watched, in the west, the best of its beauty and worth But afar or anear, the peer I never have seen Of the fairy-fond place, whose grace is the lovely Loch Lein. 1 The name of the lake at Killarney. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 329 THE VICTOR MAIDEN. PATRICK O'CoNOR. Air: " Cashel of Munster." MY heart is o'erladen with sorrow and strife The love of a maiden has wounded my life ; Astray among strangers afar I have been, But the peer of that dear one I never have seen. Her beauty so rare is to love her is best ! The snow not so fair is ; how swan-like her breast ! Her words' tuneful measure all music 's above It wounds me with pleasure the voice of my Love ! Her curls in their clusters are rippled and rolled, The sheen of their lustre 's like billowy gold ; So radiant her glances I faint with delight, For beauty entrances and great is love's might. How pure is her brow and how fair her cheek glows With the whiteness of snow and a blush of the rose t Her breast is a bower of blossoming joy More beauteous that flower than was Helen of Troy. Her soft taper fingers are skilful as fair, How graceful she lingers o'er broideries rare ; 330 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. As swiftly she sketches from lake and from land, How featly she fetches each bird at command. Though long, proud, and stately, from women afar, 'Mid chiefs gay and great lay nay revel and war, To this victor I yield me to serve as love's slave, For fight cannot shield me, and flight cannot save ! AXIOMS. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. No Lazy Wealth can think with Hunger's mind, Yet Lazy always leaves a lack behind : No love of woman woos decrepit Age, And Death waits not for Beauty's equipage. AN ELEGY. A.D. 1782. IN Abbey ground, 1 by the wild western sea, The true Knight rests, safe-shielded, Stone, by thee. Here oft the Tiarna led the galloping band Now his home-coming saddens all the land. 1 This lament is a superior specimen of the elegiac Irish style. It will be noticed that the concluding words of each stanza are repeated at the beginning of the next, and that those which ter- SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 33! The land held high his generous renown From Beare to Diarra, from Lee to Liffey brown, From Galway west to southernmost Cape Clear, Kilkenny to Loch Ce afar, anear. Anear, afar, how mournful maids and men, And every eye is wet by hill and glen ; The Suir o'erflowed, methought, the hills rent wide, The Skellig, 1 shrieking, said " A Man has died ! " A Man has died. In grief all darkens o'er, From ScarrifFs Bay, from Been, and far Timore To the last sunset isle, no sail I see ; Valentia mourns with tears wept bitterly. O bitterly cry Ards and Coom the keene, And Ballinskelligs, where no lack hath been minate the poem are identical with its opening words. This is the classic form. The Elegy has been held in esteem and is still recited. I have several versions taken from oral recitations, and Dr. Douglas Hyde kindly brought under my notice a written transcript (made in 1832), kept in the Royal Irish Academy. This gives the author's name as Tadg Rua O'Sullivan, whilst local tradition (which supplied more accurate versions) ascribes it to Diarmad O'Shea, who lived in the last century. The subject of the elegy was Francis Sigerson, whose ancestors were lords of the manor of Ballinskelligs before the Cromwellian confiscations. It is most interesting to meet with such a Gaelic dirge, and to find that Irish rivers, mountains, seas, and people lamented so deeply the descendant of a Norseman. 1 The Skellig Isles, off the south-west coast of Kerry, one of which belonged, with Ballinskelligs, Coom, Ards, etc., to the subject of this Elegy. 332 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Of sea-borne wine and welcomes as to home The Giver greeting all who chose to come. Who chose to come of that glad hall were free, With meat, brown ale, and honey from the bee Through Christ's sweet will, he surely shall have rest, Francis, whose welcome cheered the poorest guest. Guest, void of all, with want his only friend, Found shield and succour, kindness to the end, Linens and woollens where the tall looms stand, Gifts hid in gifts and red wine in his hand. O handsome Hawk, who tower'd the country o'er ! Top-spray of all who sprang from Segerson More ! And pure thy mother's blood, Clann Connell's old, Thou dashing chief thou joyous hand with gold. Clean gold with poverty well shared alway, O head of Counsel still, the people's stay ; 'Tis my belief from Skellig west, to Cove No heart alive could match thy heart of love. Love thy life's rule, from life's dawn till its night, How many a wrong that rule humane made right, How many a grief it chased and bitter moan Now the Church grieves for thee, here, lying lone. Lone here and dead. 'Tis this makes heav'n dark, From Rath to Ruachty, o'er mountain, sea, and bark SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 333 What his hand gathered for the Lamb he gave, The lofty, faultless Tree, our princely chieftain brave. White chief of mankind, true Cavalier all o'er, None e'er repelling, never closing door, Gloom-sad the Gael, because our strength is low, Eclipsed our souls, and wails the Voice of Woe. Woe o'er Iveragh's woods and waters wide My wound ! the steadfast generous man who died ; Not hard the way to ope with papal keys, Lord, grant the Peace-maker thy perfect peace. Peace to give peace where he may not return To heal our hurt, to light the eyes that mourn ; Shield of our hearts, our strength in sorrow found, My grief, my woe ! the Chief laid low, in Abbey ground. LOVE'S SUNSHINE. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. 1 O LOVE, and O Treasure, art sick or in sorrow ? I've pined for thy coming, all lonely : 1 Hardiman's " Minstrelsy " (abridged). The last two lines of the first stanza anticipated, and may have suggested, the central thought in Tennyson's lines : ' ' Shine out, little head, running over with curls, To the flowers and be their sun. " 334 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Gone is all pleasure, by night and by morrow, I mourn for thee, ever and only. That thou couldst distress me, who fain would caress thee, Is surely the sorrowful wonder ; Arise, O bright Sun ! give the light of thy morning And my clouds it will scatter asunder. Alas, and alas ! 'tis my heart is dying, To have ever been born must still grieve me ; My wand'ring mind is around thee flying My Hope, and my Life, do not leave me ! Come, Wayward and Froward ; come now, toward The home that ere now should have seen us ; Come, Dearest and Rarest ! and Love true and fairest Shall ever abide there between us ! "ORO MOR, O MOREEN." 1 IMITATED FROM THE IRISH. DAINTY maid is Mary, When she goes a-marketing ; Dainty in her dairy, Setting every heart to sing. 1 In Petrie's " Ancient Music," p. 120, an Irish song is given with this chorus, but it is addressed to a young man, and the chorus is evidently adopted from a previous song, which is here invented in imitation of the Irish. This seems to be its history : a playful satire was addressed to a maiden, and she answered it by a similar address, SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 335 Oro, Mor, O Moreen ! Oro, Mor, art coming now ? Oro Mor, O Moreen O Coolin 6ir, art coming now ? ' She was saying, and saying, Saying she would surely come ; But her ruffles went a-straying : That is why she stayed at home. Oro Mor, O Moreen, Oro Mor, art coming now ? Oro Mor, O Moreen, O Coolin 6ir ! art coming now ? She was saying, and saying, Promising she'd come away ; But the brindled bat was baying : That is why she had to stay. Oro Mor, O Moreen, Oro Mor, art coming now ? Oro Mor, O Moreen, O Coolin 6ir ! art coming now ? where the fisher youth is represented as excusing his delays because his shirt was not smoothed, his socks were not darned, a mountain rock fell upon him ; it concludes by wishing wreck to his coracle if he should not come on the appointed day. 1 Mor is the name of a female, and Moreen (recte Moirin) is its diminutive, Coolin (Cuilin) oir means "Chevelure of gold." In pronunciation, in the vocative, the "m" is softened to "w" and the " c " to " h " thus : " oro wor o woreen " " O hoolin ore." 336 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. She was saying, and saying, Promising she'd swiftly come ; But the moon had gone a-maying : That is why she stayed at home ! Oro Mor, O Moreen, Oro Mor, art coming now? Oro Mor, O Moreen O Coolin oir ! art coming now ? YOU REMEMBER THAT EVENING. 1 You remember that evening At my window still staying, Bare-headed and gloveless For love, long delaying : I stretch'd my hand to you, You clasp'd it, caressing ; And we kept in soft converse Till the lark sang his blessing. You remember that evening We spent both together, 'Neath the red-berried Rowan In still snowy weather. 1 A peasant ballad. The Irish words, noted by O'Curry, are given in Petrie's "Ancient Music of Ireland," Vol. I., p. 142. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 337 Your white throat was singing, Your head on my shoulder Ne'er thought I, that evening, That love could grow colder. My heart in you ! darling ! Come soon to me, hither, When my household are sleeping, To whisper together : My two hands shall clasp you, While my story is given, How your soft and sweet converse Took my prospect of Heaven. THE SHEPHERD'S PET. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. 1 I WISH the shepherd's pet were mine, I wish the shepherd's pet were mine, I wish the shepherd's pet were mine His snowy lamb, no other. And O I'm calling, calling you, Love, my heart is all in you, And O I'm calling, calling you, The white pet of your mother. 1 A simple peasant song, taken from the singing of a blind man, in Clare; quoted in Petrie's "Ancient Music of Ireland," Vol. I., p. 43, whose first three lines are here given. Z 338 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. I wish I had a herd of kine, I wish I had a herd of kine, I wish I had a herd of kine And Mollie from her mother ! And O I'm calling, calling you, Love, my heart is all in you, And O I'm calling, calling you, The bright pet of your mother ! MY SUMMER. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. SHE 's the White Flower of the Berry, She 's the Bright Bloom of the Cherry, She 's the fairest, noblest Maiden That ever saw the day : She 's my pulse, my love, my pleasure, She 's the Apple's sweet bloom-treasure, She 's Summer 'mid the storm-time 'Tween Christmas and the May ! A WISH. I WOULD the Apple-bloom I were, Or the little daisy only, Or red rose in the garden, where Thou'rt wont to wander lonely SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 339 In hope some day thy eyes would stay And of my flow'rets choose some, To bear in thy bright hand away Or wear in thy sweet bosom. LOVE'S DESPAIR. DlARMAD O'CURNAIN. 1 I AM desolate, Bereft by bitter fate ; No cure beneath the skies can save me, No cure on sea or strand, Nor in any human hand But hers, this paining wound who gave me. I know not night from day, Nor thrush from cuckoo gray, Nor cloud from the sun that shines above thee Nor freezing cold from heat, Nor friend if friend I meet I but know heart's love ! I love thee. 1 O'Curnain was born in Cork in 1740, and died in Modeligo, Waterford, in the first quarter of the present century. He was a tall, handsome young farmer. He travelled to Cork to purchase wedding presents for his betrothed, but was met on his way home by the news that she had married a wealthy suitor. He flung all his presents into the fire, and, from the shock, lost his reason, which he never recovered. He was known to several persons recently alive. 340 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Love that my Life began, Love, that will close life's span, Love that grows ever by love-giving : Love, from the first to last, Love, till all life be passed, Love that loves on after living ! This love I gave to thee, For pain love has given me, Love that can fail or falter never But, spite of earth above, Guards thee, my Flower of love, Thou Marvel-maid of life for ever. Bear all things evidence, Thou art my very sense, My past, my present, and my morrow ! All else on earth is crossed, All in the world is lost Lost all but the great love-gift of sorrow. My life not life, but death ; My voice not voice a breath ; No sleep, no quiet thinking ever On thy fair phantom face, Queen eyes and royal grace, Lost loveliness that leaves me never. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 34! I pray thee grant but this, From thy dear mouth one kiss, That the pang of death-despair pass over : Or bid make ready nigh The place where I shall lie, For aye, thy leal and silent lover. XIII. FOLK-SONGS, LULLABIES, OCCUPATION-CHANTS, AND MARINER'S SONG. IRISH LULLABY. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. I'LL put you, myself, my baby, to slumber, Not as 'tis done by the clownish number, A yellow blanket and coarse sheet bringing, But in golden cradle that softly swinging To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my bonnie baby ! To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my own sweet baby ! I'll put you, myself, my baby, to slumber, On sunniest day of the pleasant summer, Your golden cradle on smooth lawn laying, 'Neath murmuring boughs that the birds are swaying To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my bonnie baby ! To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my own sweet baby ! 344 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Slumber, my babe ! may the sweet sleep woo you, And from your slumbers may health come to you May all diseases now flee and fear you, May sickness and sorrow never come near you ! To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my bonnie baby ! To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my own sweet baby ! Slumber, my babe ! may the sweet sleep woo you, And from your slumbers may health come to you, May bright dreams come, and come no other, And I be never a sonless mother ! To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my bonnie baby ! To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my own sweet baby ! FAIRY LULLABY. O WOMAN, washing by the river ! Hush-a-by, babe not mine, My woeful wail wilt pity never ? Hush-a-by, babe not mine. A year this day, I was snatched for ever, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, To the green hill fort where thorn trees shiver, Hush-a-by, babe not mine. FOLK-SONGS. 345 Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, Sho-hu-lo, sho-hu-lo, Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, 'Tis not thou my baby O ! Tis there the fairy court is holden, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, And there is new ale, there is olden, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, And there are combs of honey golden, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, And there lie men in bonds enfolden, Hush-a-by, babe not mine. Shoheen, etc. > How many there, of fairest faces ! Hush-a-by, babe not mine, Bright-eyed boys, with manly graces ! Hush-a-by, babe not mine, Gold-haired girls with curling tresses ! Hush-a-by, babe not mine, There, mothers nurse with sad caresses. Hush-a-by, babe not mine. Shoheen, etc. Ah, bid my husband haste to-morrow, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, A waxen taper he shall borrow, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, 346 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. A black knife bring to cross my sorrow, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, And stab their first steed coming thoro', Hush-a-by, babe not mine. Shoheen, etc. Say, pluck the herb where gate-thorns quiver, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, And wish a wish that God deliver, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, If he come not then he need come never, Hush-a-by, babe not mine. For they'll make me Fairy Queen for ever ! Hush-a-by, babe not mine ! Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, Sho-hu-lo, sho-hu-lo, Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, 'Tis not thou my baby O ! "BABE WILL BE UNEASY." CITRUAG O'DAiGENAiN. 1 AND O bo, my baby bright ! Do you know a woman's way ? 'Tis I, myself, that learned it right Whatsoe'er she seem to say. 1 O'Kearney Irish MSS., Royal Irish Academy. FOLK-SONGS. 347 Is she sick, or is she slow, Is her soft heart sinking low, If dad don't kiss the nurse, I know Babe will be uneasy ! If wine of wines you bring to her, Babe will be uneasy ! Give all the birds that sing to her, Fruits from Roe to Ring to her, The country of a king to her, Unless a kiss you bring to her, Babe will be uneasy ! If Limerick you gave to her, Babe will be uneasy ! And Cork so bright and brave to her, Babe will be uneasy ! Gems that monarchs crave, to her, Give gold that falls a cave to her, If no caress you gave to her, Babe will be uneasy ! Wine were want and miss to her, Babe will be uneasy ! Norway's flock no bliss to her, Babe will be uneasy ? Gold a hate and hiss to her, Babe will be uneasy ! Unless you give a kiss to her, Babe will be uneasy ! 348 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. SMITH'S SONG. IMITATED FROM THE IRISH. DING dong didero, Blow big bellows, Ding dong didero, Black coal yellows, Ding dong didero, Blue steel mellows, Ding dong didero, Strike ! good fellows. Up with the hammers, Down with the sledges, Hark to the clamours, Pound now the edges, Work it and watch it, Round, flat, or square O, Spade, hook, or hatchet Sword for a hero. Ding dong didero, Ding dong dero, Spade for a labourer, Sword for a hero, FOLK-SONGS. 349 Hammer it, stout smith, Rightly, lightly, Hammer it, hammer it, Hammer at it brightly. PLOUGHMAN'S RIME. PLOUGHMAN. " HASTE, and hurry, and speed, The beldame's sluggard steed, Leap up, Tom, take heed And see if our dinner is near." THIRDMAN. " 'Tis a sowing," " Haste, and hurry, and speed." 11 'Tis a growing," "Haste, and hurry, and speed." " 'Tis a-mowing." "Haste, and hurry, and speed." " Home 'tis going." "Haste, and hurry, and speed." " Fire 's a-blowing," "Haste, and hurry, and speed." " Cook 's a-glowing." " Haste, and hurry, and speed." " Here, 'tis showing ! " 350 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. PLOUGHMAN. " Cheer, and cherish, in deed, The good wife's gay young steed, Off with bridle, forth with feed Now that our dinner is here." SPINNERS' SONG. " LOOREEN, o loora, loora, laura 1 Run by the river, and find me my lover." " Looreen, o looreen, loora, laura, 'Tis Flann O'Keeffe I'll fetch for you over." " Looreen, o loora, loora, laura, His cattle are plenty in meadows of clover." " Looreen, o loora, loora, laura, Run by the river and find me my lover." " Looreen, o loora, loora, laura, 'Tis Cormac Fada I'll fetch for you over." " Looreen, o loora, loora, laura, His head is in Dublin, his heels are in Dover." 1 Luirin o lurtha, lurtha, lartha. See Appendix. FOLK-SONGS. 351 MALLO LERO. SPINNERS' SONG. " MALLO lero is im bo nero I wandered the wood, when dews were pearly, Mallo lero is im bo ban." " Mallo lero is im bo nero For Conn O'Carrol you roved so early Mallo le"ro is im bo ban." " Mallo lero is im bo nero With withy waist set him ploughing barely Mallo lero is im bo ban." " Mallo lero is im bo nero You mannerless maid, he'd match you fairly, Mallo lero is im bo ban." " Mallo lero is im bo nero Nay, find me the man I love so rarely Mallo lero is im bo ban." " Mallo le*ro is im bo nero Take and be happy with Tom O'Harely Mallo lero is im bo ban." 352 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. " Mallo le'ro is im bo ne*ro, I welcome, I take, I hail him fairly, Mallo lero is im bo ban." " Mallo le'ro is im bo nero Then ne'er may you part, or late or early Mallo le'ro is im bo ban." ORO, O DARLING FAIR. SPINNERS' SONG. " ORO, O darling fair ! and ioro O Fairness fair ! Who 's the young maid to be wed upon Shrove-tide there ? Oro, O darling fair ! O lamb and O love ! " Oro, O darling fair ! and ioro O Fairness fair ! Maid to be married I hear is sweet Annie Clare, Oro, O darling fair ! O land, and O love." " Oro, O darling fair ! and ioro O Fairness fair ! Who 's the glad youth upon whom fell this happy air ? Oro, O darling fair ! O lamb, and O love." " Oro, O darling fair ! and ioro O Fairness fair ! Florence O'Driscoll they say has the luck so rare, Oro, O darling fair ! O lamb, and O love ! " SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 337 Your white throat was singing, Your head on my shoulder Ne'er thought I, that evening, That love could grow colder. My heart in you ! darling ! Come soon to me, hither, When my household are sleeping, To whisper together : My two hands shall clasp you, While my story is given, How your soft and sweet converse Took my prospect of Heaven. THE SHEPHERD'S PET. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. 1 I WISH the shepherd's pet were mine, I wish the shepherd's pet were mine, I wish the shepherd's pet were mine His snowy lamb, no other. And O I'm calling, calling you, Love, my heart is all in you, And O I'm calling, calling you, The white pet of your mother. 1 A simple peasant song, taken from the singing of a blind man, in Clare; quoted in Petrie's "Ancient Music of Ireland," Vol. I., p. 43, whose first three lines are here given. Z 338 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. I wish I had a herd of kine, I wish I had a herd of kine, I wish I had a herd of kine And Mollie from her mother ! And O I'm calling, calling you, Love, my heart is all in you, And O I'm calling, calling you, The bright pet of your mother ! MY SUMMER. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. SHE 's the White Flower of the Berry, She 's the Bright Bloom of the Cherry, She 's the fairest, noblest Maiden That ever saw the day : She 's my pulse, my love, my pleasure, She 's the Apple's sweet bloom-treasure, She 's Summer 'mid the storm-time 'Tween Christmas and the May ! A WISH. I WOULD the Apple-bloom I were, Or the little daisy only, Or red rose in the garden, where Thou'rt wont to wander lonely SONGS OF .THE EMOTIONS. 339 In hope some day thy eyes would stay And of my flow'rets choose some, To bear in thy bright hand away Or wear in thy sweet bosom. LOVE'S DESPAIR. DlARMAD O'CURNAIN. 1 I AM desolate, Bereft by bitter fate ; No cure beneath the skies can save me, No cure on sea or strand, Nor in any human hand But hers, this paining wound who gave me. I know not night from day, Nor thrush from cuckoo gray, Nor cloud from the sun that shines above thee- Nor freezing cold from heat, Nor friend if friend I meet I but know heart's love ! I love thee. 1 O'Curnain was born in Cork in 1740, and died in Modeligo, Waterford, in the first quarter of the present century. He was a tall, handsome young farmer. He travelled to Cork to purchase wedding presents for his betrothed, but was met on his way home by the news that she had married a wealthy suitor. He flung all his presents into the fire, and, from the shock, lost his reason, which he never recovered. He was known to several persons recently alive. 338 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. I wish I had a herd of kine, I wish I had a herd of kine, I wish I had a herd of kine And Mollie from her mother ! And O I'm calling, calling you, Love, my heart is all in you, And O I'm calling, calling you, The bright pet of your mother ! MY SUMMER. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. SHE 's the White Flower of the Berry, She 's the Bright Bloom of the Cherry, She 's the fairest, noblest Maiden That ever saw the day : She 's my pulse, my love, my pleasure, She 's the Apple's sweet bloom-treasure, She 's Summer 'mid the storm-time 'Tween Christmas and the May ! A WISH. I WOULD the Apple-bloom I were, Or the little daisy only, Or red rose in the garden, where Thou'rt wont to wander lonely SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 339 In hope some day thy eyes would stay And of my flow'rets choose some, To bear in thy bright hand away Or wear in thy sweet bosom. LOVE'S DESPAIR. DlARMAD O'CURNAIN. 1 I AM desolate, Bereft by bitter fate ; No cure beneath the skies can save me, No cure on sea or strand, Nor in any human hand But hers, this paining wound who gave me. I know not night from day, Nor thrush from cuckoo gray, Nor cloud from the sun that shines above thee Nor freezing cold from heat, Nor friend if friend I meet I but know heart's love ! I love thee. 1 O'Curnain was born in Cork in 1740, and died in Modeligo, Waterford, in the first quarter of the present century. He was a tall, handsome young farmer. He travelled to Cork to purchase wedding presents for his betrothed, but was met on his way home by the news that she had married a wealthy suitor. He flung all his presents into the fire, and, from the shock, lost his reason, which he never recovered. He was known to several persons recently alive. 340 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Love that my Life began, Love, that will close life's span, Love that grows ever by love-giving : Love, from the first to last, Love, till all life be passed, Love that loves on after living ! This love I gave to thee, For pain love has given me, Love that can fail or falter never But, spite of earth above, Guards thee, my Flower of love, Thou Marvel-maid of life for ever. Bear all things evidence, Thou art my very sense, My past, my present, and my morrow ! All else on earth is crossed, All in the world is lost Lost all but the great love-gift of sorrow. My life not life, but death ; My voice not voice a breath ; No sleep, no quiet thinking ever On thy fair phantom face, Queen eyes and royal grace, Lost loveliness that leaves me never. SONGS OF THE EMOTIONS. 341 I pray thee grant but this, From thy dear mouth one kiss, That the pang of death-despair pass over : Or bid make ready nigh The place where I shall lie, For aye, thy leal and silent lover. XIIL FOLK-SONGS, LULLABIES, OCCUPATION-CHANTS, AND MARINER'S SONG. IRISH LULLABY. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. I'LL put you, myself, my baby, to slumber, Not as 'tis done by the clownish number, A yellow blanket and coarse sheet bringing, But in golden cradle that softly swinging To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my bonnie baby ! To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my own sweet baby ! I'll put you, myself, my baby, to slumber, On sunniest day of the pleasant summer, Your golden cradle on smooth lawn laying, 'Neath murmuring boughs that the birds are swaying To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my bonnie baby ! To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my own sweet baby ! 344 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Slumber, my babe ! may the sweet sleep woo you, And from your slumbers may health come to you May all diseases now flee and fear you, May sickness and sorrow never come near you ! To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my bonnie baby ! To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my own sweet baby ! Slumber, my babe ! may the sweet sleep woo you, And from your slumbers may health come to you, May bright dreams come, and come no other, And I be never a sonless mother ! To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my bonnie baby ! To and fro, lu la lo, To and fro, my own sweet baby ! FAIRY LULLABY. O WOMAN, washing by the river ! Hush-a-by, babe not mine, My woeful wail wilt pity never ? Hush-a-by, babe not mine. A year this day, I was snatched for ever, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, To the green hill fort where thorn trees shiver, Hush-a-by, babe not mine. FOLK-SONGS. 345 Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, Sho-hu-lo, sho-hu-lo, Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, 'Tis not thou my baby O ! Tis there the fairy court is holden, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, And there is new ale, there is olden, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, And there are combs of honey golden, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, And there lie men in bonds enfolden, Hush-a-by, babe not mine. Shoheen, etc. How many there, of fairest faces ! Hush-a-by, babe not mine, Bright-eyed boys, with manly graces ! Hush-a-by, babe not mine, Gold-haired girls with curling tresses ! Hush-a-by, babe not mine, There, mothers nurse with sad caresses. Hush-a-by, babe not mine. Shoheen, etc. -\ Ah, bid my husband haste to-morrow, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, A waxen taper he shall borrow, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, 346 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. A black knife bring to cross my sorrow, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, And stab their first steed coming thoro', Hush-a-by, babe not mine. Shoheen, etc. Say, pluck the herb where gate-thorns quiver, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, And wish a wish that God deliver, Hush-a-by, babe not mine, If he come not then he need come never, Hush-a-by, babe not mine. For they'll make me Fairy Queen for ever ! Hush-a-by, babe not mine ! Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, Sho-hu-lo, sho-hu-lo, Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, Tis not thou my baby O ! "BABE WILL BE UNEASY." ClTRUAG O'DAIGENAIN. 1 AND O bo, my baby bright ! Do you know a woman's way ? 'Tis I, myself, that learned it right Whatsoe'er she seem to say. O'Kearney Irish MSS., Royal Irish Academy. FOLK-SONGS. 347 Is she sick, or is she slow, Is her soft heart sinking low, If dad don't kiss the nurse, I know Babe will be uneasy ! If wine of wines you bring to her, Babe will be uneasy ! Give all the birds that sing to her, Fruits from Roe to Ring to her, The country of a king to her, Unless a kiss you bring to her, Babe will be uneasy ! If Limerick you gave to her, Babe will be uneasy ! And Cork so bright and brave to her, Babe will be uneasy ! Gems that monarchs crave, to her, Give gold that fills a cave to her, If no caress you gave to her, Babe will be uneasy ! Wine were want and miss to her, Babe will be uneasy ! Norway's flock no bliss to her, Babe will be uneasy ? Gold a hate and hiss to her, Babe will be uneasy ! Unless you give a kiss to her, Babe will be uneasy ! 348 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. SMITH'S SONG. IMITATED FROM THE IRISH. DING dong didero, Blow big bellows, Ding dong didero, Black coal yellows, Ding dong didero, Blue steel mellows, Ding dong didero, Strike ! good fellows. Up with the hammers, Down with the sledges, Hark to the clamours, Pound now the edges, Work it and watch it, Round, flat, or square O, Spade, hook, or hatchet Sword for a hero. Ding dong didero, Ding dong dero, Spade for a labourer, Sword for a hero, FOLK-SONGS. 349 Hammer it, stout smith, Rightly, lightly, Hammer it, hammer it, Hammer at it brightly. PLOUGHMAN'S RIME. PLOUGHMAN. " HASTE, and hurry, and speed, The beldame's sluggard steed, Leap up, Tom, take heed And see if our dinner is near." THIRDMAN. " Tis a sowing," " Haste, and hurry, and speed." " 'Tis a growing," "Haste, and hurry, and speed." " 'Tis a-mowing." "Haste, and hurry, and speed." " Home 'tis going." " Haste, and hurry, and speed." " Fire 's a-blowing," " Haste, and hurry, and speed." "Cook's a-glowing." " Haste, and hurry, and speed." " Here, 'tis showing ! " 350 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. PLOUGHMAN. " Cheer, and cherish, in deed, The good wife's gay young steed, Off with bridle, forth with feed Now that our dinner is here." SPINNERS' SONG. "LOOREEN, o loora, loora, laura 1 Run by the river, and find me my lover." " Looreen, o looreen, loora, laura, 'Tis Flann O'Keeffe I'll fetch for you over." " Looreen, o loora, loora, laura, His cattle are plenty in meadows of clover." " Looreen, o loora, loora, laura, Run by the river and find me my lover." " Looreen, o loora, loora, laura, 'Tis Cormac Fada I'll fetch for you over." " Looreen, o loora, loora, laura, His head is in Dublin, his heels are in Dover." 1 Luirin o lurtha, lurtha, lartha. See Appendix. FOLK-SONGS. 351 MALLO LERO. SPINNERS' SONG. " MALLO lero is im bo nero I wandered the wood, when dews were pearly, Mallo lero is im bo ban." " Mallo lero is im bo nero For Conn O'Carrol you roved so early Mallo le"ro is im bo ban." " Mallo lero is im bo ndro With withy waist set him ploughing barely Mallo le"ro is im bo ban." " Mallo lero is im bo ne"ro You mannerless maid, he'd match you fairly, Mallo le"ro is im bo ban." " Mallo lero is im bo nero Nay, find me the man I love so rarely Mallo lero is im bo ban." " Mallo le"ro is im bo ne*ro Take and be happy with Tom O'Harely Mallo lero is im bo ban." 352 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. " Mallo leYo is im bo nero, I welcome, I take, I hail him fairly, Mallo lro is im bo ban." " Mallo le*ro is im bo ne*ro Then ne'er may you part, or late or early Mallo tero is im bo ban." ORO, O DARLING FAIR. SPINNERS' SONG. " ORO, O darling fair ! and ioro O Fairness fair ! Who 's the young maid to be wed upon Shrove-tide there ? Oro, O darling fair ! O lamb and O love ! " Oro, O darling fair ! and ioro O Fairness fair ! Maid to be married I hear is sweet Annie Clare, Oro, O darling fair ! O land, and O love." " Oro, O darling fair ! and ioro O Fairness fair ! Who 's the glad youth upon whom fell this happy air ? Oro, O darling fair ! O lamb, and O love." " Oro, O darling fair ! and ioro O Fairness fair ! Florence O'Driscoll they say has the luck so rare, Oro, O darling fair ! O lamb, and O love ! " FOLK-SONGS. 353 " Oro, O darling fair ! and ioro O Fairness fair ! What is the outfit they give to the wedded pair ? Oro, O darling fair ! O lamb, and O love ! " " Oro, O darling fair ! and ioro O Fairness fair ! Feathers the finest that ever had bird in air, Linen the whitest that ever the spindle bare, Quilting of silk that is softest beyond compare, Candlesticks golden, graceful and carved with care, Red and white pieces in pocket to spend and spare, Plenty on board with gay guests to gladly share, Victory I wish them, that Joy may be ever there ! Oro, O darling fair ! O lamb, and O love ! " THE MARINER'S HYMN. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. BARK, bravest in battle of billow and breeze ! True tower in the tempest, dry deck in the seas ! When flash the wild waters, in mountains of might ! You leap through the breakers with bounds of delight ! The high, bright tide ! the high, bright tide ! Queen of my heart, my joy, my pride ! My beautiful bark on the high, bright tide ! AA 354 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. With robes from the Indies I've dighted my fair, How swells her white bosom against the blue air ! Right buoyant the craft below, shapely the sail, And, O God ! but to see her rise out of the gale ! On the high, bright tide ! the high, bright tide ! Queen of my heart, my joy, my pride ! My beautiful bark on the high, bright tide ! " Gray Deelan, who stand with unchangeable brow, Behold how the surges race off from her prow, Behold, and give judgment if ever you've seen Bark on the waters to peer with my queen." On the high, bright tide ! the high, bright tide ! Queen of my heart, my joy, my pride ! My beautiful bark on the high, bright tide ! Then answered gray Deelan : " Since first I withstood The roar-rush of ocean's tumultuous flood, By night and day watch I, but never could mark From seaward or shoreward, a bark like thy bark ! " On the high, bright tide ! the high, bright tide ! Queen of my heart, my joy, my pride ! My beautiful bark on the high, bright tide ! FOLK-SONGS. 355 " Lord of the heavens ! " the mariners pray, " Give succour, give shelter, keep, keep her away, She cleaves the blue billows, she comes like a flash, And through us and o'er us she'll instantly dash " On the high, bright tide ! the high, bright tide ! Queen of my heart, my joy, my pride ! My beautiful bark on the high, bright tide ! XIV. PARAPHRASES FROM THE GAELIC THE KING'S LAY. 1 I. THE Hill of all Supremacy was void Of rule supreme. For seven years, no King Had entered there, nor thence gone forth in state, With chief and bard and royal equipage, To make procession through the Land of Erinn, And all was ill. There crept a faint gray mist Across the fair face of the Island then, And darkness came on many hearts, and slow Forebodings grew, and petty enmities Were omens of a mighty wrath to come. Peace was no more, although the Isle was still And all her shoreward seas and curved bays Unvexed by sharp prows from the snowy North. Fate hung in air, as hangs a towering hawk O'er silenced woods. Whereat the Land was moved 1 Paraphrased from a passage in the " Sick-bed of Cuchulainn and only Jealousy of Emer," Atlantis, Vol. I. See Appendix. 358 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. As by one thought, to cast away the cause, Not loving thus to see fair Tara void, Discrowned, and desolate, her glory gone ; Not loving that the Kingship of the Land Should be without a King to judge supreme, And make procession through the Land of Erinn, Redressing wrongs and making good the Right, Ruling the kings and settling all dispute, Welding more closely the white bond of love That linked in one the Great Five Chieftainries. So all the scattered chiefs arose and sped Their gathering chariots to the Hill of Kings, Whose bright-browed fortress glances o'er the green And tremulous sea of branches, like a moon New-risen. The clangour ceased ; they entered, still, The Court of Niafer, by mystic rite To find what man should rule the royal fort. Lo, in their midst, the Chiefs of all the Druids Came ; in their midst a stripling stood, new robed In vesture white that fell in myriad folds. Then him Four Druids gave to eat the heart Divided, of the spotless, snow-white bull ; And when he ate, they made deep slumber drown His form inert, and, glimm'ring round, pronounced The magic charm that wrought the Dream of Truth. Silent they stood awhile, and all repressed The anxious throbbing of their hurried hearts. Listless in sleep he lay till, suddenly, PARAPHRASES FROM THE GAELIC. 359 Lifting his right hand slowly toward the North, He murmured words that died within his throat : His arm returning fell across his heart. And yet a little time and, suddenly, Half-rising up, with eager-bending brow, Stretching his hand unto the North, he spake With accent now assured, and full ; " Behold ! " And then, at once, upstarting to his feet, He made low rev'rence to the Unseen Man And cried aloud : "All hail, my lord the King ! All hail, O noble hero, crimson-flecked, Sitting beside the Mournful Chieftain there In fair Emania : thou, in all great deeds, His worthy pupil, peer, and truest friend ! " This when they heard, the Chiefs sent forth a Chief Who, journeying through the long glades of the woods, And fording mighty rivers in his way, Came swift to fair Emania in the North. Then, sending round his glances he beheld Eastward, the palace of the Crimson Branch, And on his left he saw the Speckled Mansion Solemn and still, and in the sun, before The great White Palace of the Royal Branch And hosts of knights were swarming round its door Passing and re-passing, for all Ulad Had gathered here to greet their King, and watch The mournful sickness in the Speckled House. The herald Chieftain smote upon a door In the great Palace of the Royal Branch, 360 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. And he was led before the King, who naught Would hear, till feasts were spread, and humming chords From lines of lofty harps had wiled away The irksome burthen of long journeying : For such was aye the custom of the Realm. Three days had passed ; he stood before the King, And showed to him the weighty charge he bore. King Concobar of Ulad answering him, Replied : " There is with us a noble, free, And high-descended hero, crimson-flecked, Sitting beside a Mournful Chieftain here In fair Emania, and in all great deeds His worthy pupil, peer, and truest friend." Then forth they fared : the King, the Envoy-Chief And all the Council from the Royal Branch Unto the Speckled Mansion in the West ; And entering soft they saw Cuchulainn lie Upon his couch of sad decline, and there Stood over him to solace and to speed The heavy hours of mournfulness away Our noble Lugai of the Crimson Hand. When he had heard the Envoy, Lugai spake With rising anger as at insult done And all the nobleness of ardent youth : " Even for Tara's self, I will not leave This couch of sickness where Cuchulainn lies. Doleful his room of darkness would become Were I afar, but not so sad and lone As the darked chamber of my heart, while he PARAPHRASES FROM THE GAELIC. 361 Lay all forsaken by his pupil here." But then Cuchulainn, rising slow and weak, Above his couch of sad decline, stood tall And grand once more ; and on his Lugai's head He laid his hand, so strong, and now so worn : " Thou now hast given thee a charge, my son, Beside which private bonds must seem as naught Go forth ! and from thy glory there will come New life into my heart, and I will live In sorrow less, that I may see thee rule According to the best weal of thy Land, And see thy Land grow happy under thee, And see thy praises in the greater deeds That, following thee, all Erinn shall perform ! " He then, recalling from the Past the things He ever taught, and to show forth the ways That most become a King, did speak this Lay : II. 11 In the Time- In the red Time of Battles, When the foeman advances, With a myriad of glaives And a myriad of lances, When slaves Shrink back from the terrible chime Which the War-harp outrattles Whose chords 362 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Are the jubilant Warriors' swords- Be thou The Torch of the Brave : Not timid, oppressed, or unready In woe or affright, But Man in his might, Clear-glancing, and fearless, and steady, Ready the foeman to smite, Ready the friend and the foeman to save, Calm and intrepid of brow, Even as now. " In peace or in war Dwell not afar From the voice of thy people, nor hide Thy heart in the purple of pride ; Bend down thine ear, Let the doors to thy mansion be wide, Let the pathway be clear So that all thou shalt hear, And the injured shall come to thy side. Never be passionate, Never precipitate ; Never intoxicate With that which of evils is worst, Which deadens the health Of Mind, and makes Earth Seem a wilderness drear and accurst, PARAPHRASES FROM THE GAELIC. 363 If it yield but a dearth To him, who thus lusteth, of Wealth. " In all of thy regal processions, In the mansions of welcoming kings, Show thou the example How little the lofty mind clings To feasting and mead ; and a sample Of temperance also be thou Whenever a stranger Come 'mid thy possessions, Shield him from danger, And guard him from wrong ; Let courtesy sit in thy heart and thy brow, Let him be gladdened, but thou Hast duties, so wield them See that the feasts be not many nor long : In such there is danger, In such there is wrong, From ills of each kind thou must shield him. " Let not thy path lie among Men who are plotters of guile, Men who are doers of wrong. If any A tract of the lands of thine Isle Have got them by fraud or by wile, By lie, or by might, Though many 364 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. A year may have rolled on its way, And the hair of their youth have grown gray,- Let them not rest ! Let not the Wrong be as Right ! Call witnesses quickly together, Ask the historians whether Their scrolls can declare The descendants of him, the true heir, Him whom their guile dispossess'd ; Seek the clear truth Recalling the past into life. Lo, then Having found, 'Mid their fraudulent actions, the Right Arise, without slowness or ruth, Arise, in thy sternness and might, And gather thy men, And drive them, with vigorous strife With sword and with javelin, afar, And for ever and ever debar Their return to the ground. " Be sparing of words, Be calm and not loud in thy speech ; Loving to think Knowing 'tis easier to cross o'er the fords When the flood is not flush with the brink, And the waters are clear And the currents not loud, are but low PARAPHRASES FROM THE GAELIC. 365 Knowing 'tis easier to reach The Truth which abideth beyond The River of Words, In the still bark of Thought, when slow Is the rush of that River. Thus be thou ever, And wear In thy dutiful bosom, a fond Respect for the Good, who are old ; Even forbear To mock or deride those who never Have earned the regard of the Bold, Of the Good, and the True, But whom Age bringeth grieving, and rue, Deep woe and despair. " My son ! Be thou kindly disposed towards all ; Thinking evil of none, Till their deeds show their sorrowful fall ; Do evil to none, From those who offend thee demand Not things over bitter to bear. Be gentle, be merciful, and Open of hand. If thou hast wronged any, by chance, Be not shamed, but declare Thine error, and yield him his share. 366 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Set forth all the righteous laws That the Isle may advance, Knowing the truth of its cause. Hearken And follow the words of the Wise, Remember the rules of thy Fathers, Let the knowledge of Age be a star to thine eyes When shadows surround thee, and darken The goal which thou seekest. Be firmest, but meekest j So striving that ever The great bond which gathers Thy girdle of free friends may never Slacken, nor sunder, nor sever. " Bear with them, bear for them, endure Much that their circle increase In purity, honour, and peace. With thy foes Be strong, word-keeping, and sure. Be courteous, nor taunt with their woes Those who have suffered defeat. Let the taunts of thine enemies pass- Let thy captives abuse and defame Their tattle May writhe like snakes to thy feet, But weaker than withering grass In the flame. Thou shall be nobler, and scorn PARAPHRASES FROM THE GAELIC. 367 Their tauntings or threats to return In peace or in battle. " Spend not thy time In riotous waste, Nor lean to the contrary crime, Hoard not thy wealth, and Alienate never thy land. Give answering calm, without haste ; And bear, With thy wrath all unmoved, To hearken thy conduct reproved And thy Counsellors blame thee, And thy deeds, if they were Not such as became thee. " Sacrifice naught Of thy truth to the wishes of man ; Nor even in thought Let men's wickedness fan The fire of thine anger to hate Lest thou do even them An injustice, through loathing Their former misdeed, And discover it, late. Take care and good heed For Truth is a king's diadem, And Justice his clothing. 368 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Release not thy capture But with bond of security given, Lest, when his fetters are riven, Wrath and not rapture Should run through his veins, And, knowing thy force and thy land, He should come with a ravaging band To be venged for captivity's stains. " Let not thy heart Sink into slumber and sloth, Lest thou shouldst shrink from thy duty, Lest thou be loth To act the true part, And thy glory depart And the Will, and the Power, and the Beauty Which exist in the might To repress and redress The Evil and Wrong- To bring kindness and mercy to light And uphold the fair Banner of Right With the hand of the Strong. "Ask not a favour Again, if refused thee at first ; For the mind becomes mean, If the heart be a craver ; And a subtle Enslaver, A Torturer vilest and worst. PARAPHRASES FROM THE GAELIC. 369 Is the Yearning obscene, The immodest Desire, For that which belongs to another, Whom the soul grows to hate, and not love as a brother ; And will fall from its higher Emotions and cease to aspire, And smoulder 'mid passions accurst. " Do not compete, Being zealous, With thy subjects in action or feat, Lest thou be jealous ; And wish not their glory, but that they should meet With sorrow, o'erthrow, and defeat. Nor forget that a King Whom his people elect Should be stainless of heart and blameless of mind, Of courage and honour unfleckt, Loving his clans with a loving refined ; Should joy in their gladness, grieve in their grief, Toil to give light to their blind, Toil till true happiness sing In the homes of the Rich and the Poor, A Palace of Purity, A Wall of Security, He alone, be thou sure, Is truly their King, and their Prince, and their Chief. B B 37O BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. THE BLESSING OF DUBLIN. 1 CHILL and dead Lies the King of Dublin's son : At his head Sits gray Alpin, stern and still, Neither eat nor drink he will, Till the Earth have had her fill, And Valhall be won. Patrick came, Lauding loud of holier things, Flashed the flame From the Viking eyes : " Can He, Maker of all things, make be That which is no more for me ? Thy King of Kings ! " Speak the word, Let the sovran deed be done, Then, thy Lord 1 Paraphrased from a passage in Leabar nag-Ceart, "The Book of Rights. " This work is supposed to have been written by Cuan O'Lochain, Chief Legislator of Erinn, after Clontarf, and the death of Brian Borunia. The passage is referred in this book to St. Benean (sometimes made Benignus), St. Patrick's disciple. If he were the author, it proves the antiquity and good repute of the Norse settlement ; if, on the other hand, Cuan O'Lochain be the PARAPHRASES FROM THE GAELIC. 3/1 Lord of mine is Lord of all Each a liegeman at his call, Bows in battle, horns in hall, For him my son ! " Patrick prayed, Moving as the sun moves round ; Naught dismayed, King and jarls thrice followed him, Heard, with understanding dim, Of the mystic murmured hymn, The strange weird sound. Then great dread Fell upon them, and behold ! Stood the Dead In their midst, erect, with gaze Fixed on them, in mute amaze, Lit with red returning rays, The visage cold. Said the king, Standing with his war-men nigh, author, then it is even more valuable. For it is a testimony, borne after the battle of Clontarf, by the most eminent Gael of Erinn, to the high estimation in which the Norse-Irish of Dublin were held by the contemporary Gael. They are shown to the nation at large as enjoying the fruits of the blessing of the Apostle of Erinn, in eleven special gifts. This of itself would condemn the partisan views of some rude moderns, who appear to be impartially ignorant of the opinions of St. Patrick, St. Benean, and Cuan O'Lochain. 3/2 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. " For this thing We are vassals to thy Lord, Followers fast by field and fiord, True at trysting, staunch at sword, Sea, shore, or sky ! " I pronounce Tribute to this King of thine : Each an ounce Weighed aright of ruddy gold Ev'ry year shall be thrice told, From the Northman's Dublin hold, At Macha's shrine." l Patrick raised His right hand in benediction, " God be praised ! If the toll be paid each year, Not the world need Dublin fear : Else, three times the Gaelic spear Shall bring affliction. " Gifts eleven, Guerdons, in return shall fall, From high Heaven : Goodly wives the wives shall be, The men live manful and die free, 1 Ard-Macha, the height of Macha, now Ardmagh, the primatial see of Ireland. PARAPHRASES FROM THE GAELIC. 373 Beauty still the maidens' fee Of the pure proud Gall. " Feats of swimming Mark the youth, sea-loved, sea-strong ; Bright horns brimming, Welcome all to bounteous board, Gift of war-triumphant sword, Gift of trophies, many a hoard, Make its glory long. " Champions brave, Gallant kings to bear the crown On land and wave, Gift of commerce from all parts, Gift of ever-widening marts, Gift in church of reverent hearts, Bless stout Dublin town. " Through the haze Whence, in long succeeding lines, Come our days I behold ascending spires : When to Darkness all retires, One of Erinn's last Three Fires, The Fire of Dublin shines. " Tara proud Over woods upstanding airy, Not thus crowd 374 BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL. Gracious gifts around thy name, From Tara here this day I came, Great its mighty monarch's fame, My curse on Laere ! " Patrick spoke : Benean, I, have shaped this lay, With measured stroke In the right-resounding rime, That his words in every clime Should re-echo through all Time Till the Judgment Day. APPENDIX. THE ANCIENT IRISH. THOUGH it is now common to apply the epithet "Celtic" to the old inhabitants of Ireland, I have preferred to write of them as the " Ancient Irish," that being a term less exclusive and more exact. Some English historians have given currency to the strange fallacy that the Angle and Saxon colonists extinguished the Britons, whom the Roman legions could not annihilate. They overlook the fact that the policy of invaders was usually to retain the natives as their vassals. In Ireland a similar fallacy obtains. The Milesian invaders are now generally sup- posed to have superseded completely the former owners of the island. This is essentially a modern fancy, founded on ignorance ; for the elder Irish historians often Mile- sians themselves not only admit but emphasize the fact that the population of the country was composed of different races. The island, according to them, was in the possession of a northern Scandinavian colony the TuataDeDananns, when a southern race, the Milesians, coming from Spain, invaded the country. The Fomorians, a northern people also, occasionally harried the coasts and effected tern- 376 APPENDIX. porary settlements. There were some minor colonists of inferior importance. Mac Firbis (A.D. 1650), in his book of the " Genealogies of the Colonies of Erinn," includes the lines of the Fomorians, the Lochlanns (Norsemen), and the " Sax- Normans," so far as these connect with Ireland. He quotes from an ancient writer these characteristics of the great earlier colonists : "Everyone who is fair-haired, vengeful, large, and every plunderer, the professors of musical and entertain- ing performances : who are adepts in all druidical and magical arts ; they are the descendants of the Tuata De Dananns in Erinn." He also mentions that the greater part of their nobles (or higher classes) were full of learning and druidism. All old accounts agree that they were pre-eminently skilled in the arts and sciences, including medicine. "Everyone who is white (of skin), brown (of hair), bold, honourable, daring, prosperous, bountiful in the bestowal of property, wealth, and rings, and who is not afraid of battle or combat ; they are the descendants of the sons of Milesius, in Erinn." [They had bards, harpers, and learned men, but their predominant character was that of a militant race.] Lastly : " Everyone who is black-haired, who is a tattler, guileful, tale-telling, noisy, contemptible ; every wretched, mean, strolling, unsteady, harsh, and inhospit- able person ; every slave, every mean thief, every churl, everyone who loves not to listen to music and entertain- APPENDIX. 377 ment, the disturbers of every council and of every as- sembly, and the promoters of discord among people, these are the descendants of the Firbolgs, of the Gailiuns, of Liogairne", and of the Domnanns, in Erinn. The descendants of the Firbolgs are the most numerous of these." The Irish have always held a firm belief in the influence of heredity, but Mac Firbis judiciously notes that the intermixture of races must be taken into account. Nevertheless, it is remarkable that the mysticism which some now assign to the Celts, Gaels, Scots, or Milesians, was ascribed by this very people to its predecessors, the Tuata D Dananns. The latter formed a world of Faery for the Celts. AMERGIN'S LAYS (pp. 93-95). According to the historical legend, Ireland was invaded from the south, in the year of the world 3500, by Milesius and his followers. They found the isle in the possession of a fair and highly gifted race, the De" Dananns. It is related that when the Milesians landed, a conference took place with the kings of the island : these offered, if the Milesians withdrew for three days, they would decide upon one of three courses, namely: retire, submit, or fight. Amergin (brother to Miled, or Milesius), a bard, druid, and judge, was chosen as arbiter. He decided that the island belonged of right to the De" Dananns, and that his kindred should withdraw over nine green waves. 3/8 APPENDIX. If then they could land again and conquer, the island should belong to them by the right of battle. Accepting this judgment they set out from Inver-scene (Kenmare Bay), over nine green waves, to sea. The Druids and poets of Erinn by their incantations raised so violent a storm that the vessels were driven westward and separated. " This is a Druidic wind," said Donn, son of Milesius. " It is," replied Amergin, " if it does not blow above the masthead." Then Aranan, Bonn's youngest brother and helmsman, went aloft and discovered that the upper air was calm. " It was treacherous of our soothsayers," exclaimed Donn, " not to have prevented this Druidic wind." " There was no treason," replied Amergin. There- upon Amergin stood up and chanted his " Incantation." This strange poem is unquestionably very ancient, and pre-Christian, but of course its exact date is uncertain. It is composed in " Conaclon," the end word of one line rimes to the first word of the line following, and indeed the rime is sometimes secured by repeating the word. Alliteration of two initials is also sought and usually obtained. These characters can be seen in the following specimen : Ailim iath n treann, Ermac muir motach, TtAotac/i sliab sreatach Sreaiack coill ciotach. These characters are of exceeding interest, since they prove that the rime-sense was well developed in the very ancient Irish. Amergin's " Song of Triumph," composed APPENDIX. 379 when he landed, differs much in metre, being irregular, and appears to dispense with rime, so that it might pass as the first example of blank verse. Even alliteration seems rather avoided than desired in the shorter lines, though permitted in the longer. It seems to me, how- ever, that Amergin may have intended a mode of rime altogether overlooked, which I would call "entrance- rime," each of the shorter lines begins with the verb " am " (I am), and the repetition of this accented word sufficed. This triumph song has been called the " Mystery of Amergin," in the " Lyra Celtica " of Dr. and Mrs. Sharp ; some, with Dr. D'Arbois Jubainville and my friend Dr. Douglas Hyde, see a pantheistic spirit in it. That is possible, of course ; still I think it open to another in- terpretation. This archaic poem is glossed by old Irish writers in the Books of Leacan and Ballymote, and by the O'Clerys. Professor Connellan gives these glosses with his translation. They have it that Amergin declares he is the wind at sea, in subtle action; the billow, in overwhelming power; the roar of ocean, in terrific approach ; a bird of prey on a rock, in cunning or keen vigilance ; a sun ray, for clearness ; a salmon in a river (known to it) for swiftness; and a lake on a plain for extent, or magic greatness. This view is supported by the fact that, in later but still ancient bardic verses, enigmatic metaphors were much affected, and needed explanation by the author. Amergin might have written " I am the sun after leaving 380 APPENDIX. the stars," and left us in doubt ; but when Dalian so describes a king, the bard himself explains : " ' Thou sun after leaving its stars,' that is when the sun has left its stars, this is the time its figure is best, and not better is its countenance than thine." My contention is con- clusively proved by the existence of another poem, identical in form and structure, in which Cuchulainn (in the "Battle of Ros-na-ree") makes his vaunting song, like Amergin. He uses similar expressions, as " I am a fire avenging floods," " I am a fierce flaming lion," with others which are unmistakably personal vaunts not pantheistic, but pan-egoistic. THE FIRST ELEGY (p. 96). O'Reilly, in his work on Ancient Irish Writers, says that though the language of this poem does not seem so old as that of Amergin, it is undoubtedly of "great an- tiquity." Lugai, son of Ith, was nephew to Milesius, whose daughter he married. He was therefore a con- temporary of Amergin : his words may have been modified by copyists. His poem presents a most note- worthy instance of remarkable riming skill : Suideam sund uas an \xacht Ainbteach faacht Crit for mo d^d adbal tcht EC dom macht Aisneidim duib atbad bean Brogais blad Fail a hainm, fris niad neam Os grian glan APPENDIX. 381 Adbal eg, ecc dom \uacht Cruaid rom claid, Nocht s.Jir, ar ro sz7, Siu ro suit/. 1 This short poem shows parallelism, alliteration, vowel rime, and consonant rime (e.g., fuacht, ruacht), I have endeavoured to reproduce the peculiarities exactly in English. The short peculiar rhythm may be intended to remind one of the rocking of a boat. THE FATE OF THE SONS OF UsNACH 2 (pp. 107-111). This is the first of "The Three Sorrows of Story." Though now presented as a heroic romance, interspersed with poems, it appears to me probable that this romance form covers, and partly conceals, a more ancient drama. If this be so, then it is a mistake to search for an Epic in what was really a Tragedy. Let us see how this idea will work out. First we have the Prologue, in which a short account of the genesis of the drama is related. King Concobar of Ulster was feasting at his Storysayer's house, when the wife of the latter bore a child, hereafter known as Deirdre (Alarm). The king's Druid declared 1 This is quoted from " Transactions of the Ossianic Society," Vol. V. (though I have omitted h's, as too confusing ; my versions of these archaic pieces are founded on translations of Connellan (3) and O'Curry (i), but some passages were not clear to these scholars. 2 " Proceedings of the Gaelic Society," Dublin, 1812. 382 APPENDIX. her fateful of evil; the nobles decided she should die, but Concobar ordered that she be bred apart, as his betrothed. In the lone fort she grew up with her nurse Lebarcam and her tutor only. On a day, she saw a raven drink of a pool of blood in the snow. " Would I had a youth with those hues," she said, " raven-hued his hair, blood-hued his cheek, snow-hued his skin." Le- barcam secretly brought Naisi, of the king's household, to her nursling, and they fled to Alba (Scotland) with his two brothers, and a company of warriors. The Alban king gave them quarters; but seeing Deirdre's beauty, claimed her : Naisi defeated him, and took possession of a region by the western sea. The champions of Erinn lament his exile and hard fortune. Now comes the drama itself. The tale at the slightest touch falls into five acts. The great passions of Love, Jealousy, and Revenge, accompanied by Treachery and War, tread the stage ; whilst a mystic over-world is shadowed forth in Deirdre's visionary warnings, and the Druid's potent spell. It may be thus arranged : ACT I. Scene I. King Concobar presides in the Royal Banquet-Hall of Emania, amidst the nobles, bards, musicians, historians, and heralds of his realm. When song, music, story, and pedigree have ended, the king, raising his voice, questions if any saw hall more fair, and if aught be lacking. They cry out in praise APPENDIX. 383 and negation. But he : " There is a lack : the Three Torches of Gaelic Valour are absent. Envoys shall go for them." All hail his clemency. One of three cham- pions Conall, Cuchulainn, or Fergus must be Naisi's guarantor. Concobar takes each apart, and asks what he would do if Usnach's Sons were slain. Conall and Cuchulainn declare they would slay all who harmed them ; Fergus that he would spare the king alone. Fergus is chosen, and sent with his two sons, pledged, however, to speed his wards to Emania when they land, be it day or night. Scene II. The Exiles are in their hunting booth of woven boughs, at Loch Etive, in Alba. Naisi and Deirdre sit, playing chess. A sound conies over the water : " That is the call of a man of Erinn," says Naisi, raising his head. Deirdre twice dissuades him, pressing the game. At the third call Naisi orders his brother, Ardan, to meet the envoys. Then Deirdre, confessing she knew the sound, tells her first premonition. She had had a dream that three ravens came with honey in their beaks, who flew away with drops of their blood instead. Scene III. Ardan enters with the three envoys, Fergus and his sons, Fair Illan and Red Buine. After cordial greetings news is asked of Erinn, and Fergus tells how they come with sweetest news, Concobar's sanction for their return, under Fergus's guarantee. Deirdr dis- suades them : their sway is greater in Alba than Conco- bar's in Erinn. But Fergus pleads : " Better is one's country than all things else, for 'tis unpleasing, however 384 APPENDIX. great be the power and prosperity, if we see not our native land each day." " True," said Naisi, " dearer is Erinn than Alba to me, though greater my sway in Alba." The guarantee of Fergus secures his trust. Scene IV. Their bark has left the shore, and Deirdre looking back at the receding mountains sings her sad, sweet lay of Farewell, recalling all the happiness that filled the glens, when the four dwelt there together. ACT II. Scene I. They land on the northern shore of Erinn. Chief Barach welcomes them to his mansion, with great display of feeling, thrice kissing each of his guests. Then he bids Fergus to a banquet. Now Fergus was pledged to speed his wards at once to Emania, but it was one of his bonds as a knight not to refuse such an invitation. He reddened with wrath and vexation, and divining the plot of Concobar's vassal, vehemently reproaches Barach. But the latter holds him to his bond. Scene II. Fergus lays the matter before the Sons of Usnach, for whom he is bond a tacit appeal. But Deirdre cries out : " Forsake the feast ; forsake not the Sons of Usnach." Fergus pleads that he sends his sons with them. Naisi haughtily remarks that " this was much for him, but they were wont to be their own defence." They depart, leaving Fergus to his suffering. Scene III. Journeying through forests and wilds, Deirdr suggests that they retire to the isle of Rathlio APPENDIX. 385 till the feast be over : Naisi refuses to retire. The sons of Fergus recall his potent guarantee and their presence. Then Deirdre, having fallen again into visioned sleep, relates that she had seen Fair Ulan be- headed, and Red Buine unhurt, and foretells the latter's treachery. Scene IV. They stand at last upon the Height of Willows, overlooking fair Emania. Deirdre points to the Cloud of Blood which hangs above the fateful city, and implores Naisi to pass it by and go to Cuchulainn in Dundelgan, returning to Emania when Fergus should be free. Naisi would not deign to show sign of fear, and then Deirdr sang her last lay of warning, in which she tenderly reminded him how he and she had never differed in the old days. " Take it for an omen of treachery," she says, "if Concobar receive us not in his mansion amongst his nobles, but send us to the Red Branch Mansion." ACT III. Scene I. King Concobar is banqueting amongst his nobles once more. They hear knocking without, at the gate of Emania. The king gives orders that if the Sons of Usnach come they shall be entertained in the Red Branch Mansion. Then, after a time, Concobar calls for one to go and report if Deirdre be still beautiful as be- fore. Her nurse Lebarcam accepts the mission. Scene II. Naisi and Deirdre are also, once again, seated at the chess table. Lebarcam enters and em- c c 386 APPENDIX. braces them in delight and anguish. She warns them of the deathless jealousy, enmity, and treachery of the king, bidding to close and barricade the Red Branch House, and keep keen watch. She sings her song of sorrow. Scene III. Lebarcam returns to the monarch's hall, with the good news that the Sons of Usnach are so mighty that with them he could now conquer Erinn, and the ill tidings that Deirdre's beauty had passed away. This lulls Concobar's jealousy ; but after a time he called for another spy. None offering he reminds Trendorn that Naisi had killed his father. Trendorn goes out, and afterwards returns wounded. He had found the mansion barred and closed, save one forgotten casement. He looked in. Deirdr turning, saw his face, and he hers ; she spoke to Naisi, who flung a chessman which smote him through the eye. " He who made that cast," said Concobar, " would conquer a kingdom if his life were left him. What of Deirdr^ ? " " Deirdre is the most beautiful woman alive," says the spy. Then the king's jealous rage bursts bounds : he commands an instant attack on the Red Branch, and the banquet is broken up in disorder. ACT IV. Scene I. Inside the hall of the Red Branch. Three fierce shouts are heard without ; and the flash of torches gleams through the casement slits. Naisi challenges the assailants : " Who come ? " " Concobar and Ulster," is the answer. Naisi resumes chess-playing, leaving the APPENDIX. 387 matter to his guarantors. Ulan calls the king to respect the guarantee of Fergus. The wrathful monarch demands revenge on those who bore off his bride. Deirdre bitterly denounces the treason of Fergus. " If he have betrayed thee, so shall not I," cried Red Buine. He rushes forth. The crash of arms is heard from Buine's victor-raid. Then a pause. Deirdre, looking out from her place of espial, reports that Buine and Concobar are parleying. She hears their words : the king has offered their champion lands and dignities. He accepts. "Fit son of a false father," she cries. Scene II. Fair Ulan dons his arms : " While lives this small straight sword in my hand I will not betray you," he says. He rushes forth, shouts of terror are heard, and Ulan returns triumphant to where Naisi and Ainle are seated playing chess. Forth again he goes, with a lighted torch in his left hand, and clears a space around the house, littering it with dead. Scene III. " Where is Fiacra, my son ? " cries Conco- bar : Fiacra appears, and the king commands him to encounter Ulan, his equal in age. " He bears his father's arms : take thou mine Ocean my shield, -my victor- darts, my green glaive." The young champions meet in fierce battle. Ulan drives down Fiacra beneath the shield. Then a strange weird hollow sound arises the roar of Concobar's shield for its bearer's peril. From afar the three Great Waves of Erinn answer roaring back. Called by them to save his king, as he thought, Conall comes rushing to the field, and smites 388 APPENDIX. Ulan from behind. They speak, and Conall learns the dread truth. " By my hand of valour," exclaims Conall, " Concobar shall take his son dead in vengeance for his treason." He strikes off Fiacra's head, and flees. Then Ulan, flinging his arms into the house he had protected, bids Naisi defend himself, and dies. ACT V. Scene I. The flare of flames shows the Ultonians ad- vancing to fire the house. Ainle strides forth, makes his battle raid, and drives them off. Next Ardan goes forth and returns in triumph. Lastly Naisi then Concobar gives the " Battle of the Morning ; " the Ultonians flee before the outrush of the Three Champions and their men, who remain victorious. Scene II. Concobar appeals to Catbad, his Druid. He urges that all Ultonians will be destroyed, unless his magic power impede it, and pledges his hero-word that harm shall not befall the Sons of Usnach if they submit. The Druid, hearing this, exerts his science, and the Sons of Usnach feel as though surrounded by " a viscid sea of whelming waves," and the earth seems to vanish beneath them. Scene III. The Three Champions strive for a time. Their weapons at last fall from their hands. Then the Ultonians approach and make them captive. Concobar commands that they be killed. None obeys the order, till a Norse prince, whose father and brother Naisi had APPENDIX. 389 killed, consents. Each of the younger brothers asks to be slain first : Naisi demands that they all be beheaded together by the keen sword of Manannan. It is done. Three shouts of heavy lamentation arise from the Ultonians. Scene IV. Deirdre stands alone, all distraught, her golden tresses dishevelled and torn. She recites aloud the heroic feats, great adventures, and deeds of friend- ship of her beloved Naisi, and of his faithful brethren. The glory of past happiness is evoked, and she sings their death-song in tearless anguish. "After this lay, Deirdre flung herself upon Naisi in the grave, and died forthwith." The Ultonians raise their earn (tomb) and inscribe their names in Ogham. Scene V. Solitary on a rock, the dread figure of the deceived Druid appears, amid a weird mist of enchant- ment. He stretches forth his hands over Emania, and utters the terrible malediction against the royal city, its false king, and the Ultonians, so that the city shall be burned to the ground by Fergus, that nor Concobar nor his race shall rule in it for ever, and that wailing and anguish shall not cease in Ulster, by day or by night, till that generation perish. From this outline, it will be seen how naturally the tale resolves itself into a Tragedy. There is manifestly dramatic purpose shown in repeating the opening royal banquet-scene, followed by the peaceful chess-scene of Act I., under contrasting circumstances in Act III. The 39O APPENDIX. characters are well sustained, and the heroine is kept prominent. It is difficult to suppose its characters were never impersonated by male and female actors declaim- ing their different parts. The lays were sung, accompanied by music. If we remember that the Gael are dramatic even in conversation, and that masquerading parties (with deer-skin masks) used to visit Anglo-Irish quarters, such as Charlemont, the probability becomes almost a certainty. This piece may, therefore, be the first Tragedy, outside of the classic languages, in the literature of Europe. FAND AND CucHULAiNN 1 (pp. 97-101). The ancient tale entitled " The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn and the only Jealousy of Emer " was cited by O'Curry as a specimen of the Irish language, as old and as pure as that of Cormac's Glossary, which dates from the ninth century. Its tone and its theme are more ancient still, and clearly date from pre-Christian times. The following summary will suffice to explain the poems quoted in this work. The Ultonians were wont to hold a Fair at the feast of Summer's end (November ist), on the plain of Muir- teimne (now in Louth). Once, at this time, there came upon the lake two lovely birds linked together with gold. 1 " The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn and the only Jealousy of Emer." From "The Yellow Book of Slane." "Atlantis," Vols. I., II. Edited and translated by Professor O'Curry, 1858. APPENDIX. 391 Cuchulainn sought to obtain them for his beloved, but his casts, hitherto unerring, now failed; and turning away, depressed, he leaned against a rock and slept. It seemed to him that two women drew near : one in green, one in five-fold crimson. Each in turn smiled on him and smote him vrith a horse-switch, until he felt near death. When night came he stood up and spoke in his sleep, bidding his friends take him to the Speckled Palace of Emania; but he could neither answer their questions nor converse. He remained in this state till another Summer-end approached, his friends keeping watch and ward about his Couch of Decline. One day an envoy came, who claimed his protection, and addressed him. In a lay, he bade Cuchulainn know that the daughters of Aed Abrat could heal him, that Fand l desired to become his bride, and that Liban would come, at Summer-end, to guide him to the Happy Land. Before leaving he gave his name, Aengus, son of Aed Abrat. When he departed Cuchulainn arose, drew his hand across his eyes, spoke, and went forth to the rock where he had slept. There he beheld the green-clad woman approach again : she was Liban, and she invited him to the Fairy Abode in Magh Mell the Plain of Happiness, where lived her husband Labraid, " quick hand at sword," amid beautiful women and learned men, in a mansion upheld by columns of silver and of crystal. In guerdon for Cuchulainn's help in battle for one day, he would give 1 Fand had been the bride of the Sea-god Manannan, who had forsaken her. 392 APPENDIX. him Fand. Cuchulainn declined to go, on the invitation of a woman, but allowed his charioteer Laeg to go with her. These fared away past the Plain of Races and the Tree of Triumphs, and the fair-green of Emain, until they arrived at the assembly-place of the Forests, where Aed Abrat and his daughters were. Laeg returned with a message from Fand, 1 imploring the champion to come as the battle would begin that day. Laeg sang the beauties of their palace, with its splendid kings, coloured couches, swift steeds, strange crimson and silver trees, fountain, ever-flowing mead-vats, and above all, yellow-haired Fand, fairer than all the women of Erinn. Were Laeg's all Erinn, and the kingship of the Happy Hills, he would give them, to abide there for ever. Others were beautiful, but she took hosts out of their senses. Then Cuchulainn went forth to Fairy Land, encountered the enemy with Labraid, and, coming in triumph from the battle was welcomed by Fand and her maidens, with the lay : " Splendid stands the Charioteer." Cuchulainn abode there a month; on leaving, it was agreed that Fand should come wherever he wished. She came to Ibar (now Newry). They were playing chess here, when Fand perceived Cuchulainn's mortal bride, Emer, with fifty maidens, deckt with gold, but armed with green knives who came to slay her. Cuchulainn took Fand into his 1 " Fand now was the daughter of Aed Abrat ; ' aed ' is fire the fire of the eye is the pupil. ' Fand ' then is the name of the ' tear ' which passes over it. It was for her purity she was so named and for her beauty ; for there was naught else in being comparable to her. 1 ' APPENDIX. 393 chariot for protection, and avoided Emer. After debate, Emer said : "I shall not refuse the woman, if thou followest her. But, indeed, everything red is beautiful, everything new is bright, everything high is lovely, every- thing common is bitter, everything we are without is prized, everything known is neglected, till all knowledge is known. Thou youth," said she, " we were at one time in dignity with thee, and we would be so again," if it were pleasing to thee." And she was overcome with grief. " Thou art pleasing to me," said he, " and thou shalt be pleasing as long as I live." Then Fand, broken-hearted, exclaimed: "Let me be repudiated." "It were fitter to repudiate me," said Emer. "Not so," said Fand, "it is I who shall be repudiated, and I have long been in peril of it." She fell into great grief and depression, and spoke her " Fare- well to Cuchulainn." Now Manannan had become aware of Fand's danger and he sped thither from the east. "He was in their presence, and no one perceived him but Fand alone." The sight of him filled her with terror. She thought the Spirit-spouse, who had abandoned her, now came to increase her humiliation, but he had magnanimously come to protect her. She sang her lost estate. " Even if to-day he were nobly constant, my mind loves not jealousy : affection is a subtle thing. It makes its way, without labour." l Manannan saluted her, and bade her 1 Cf. " Love will venture in, where it daurna well be seen." BURNS. 394 APPENDIX. choose between them. She avowed her preference for Cuchulainn, but he had forsaken her, and so she would return with Manannan who had no queen. 1 Cuchulainn (to whom Manannan was invisible) asked Laeg what had happened, and when it was made clear to him, he ran distraught, without food or drink, among the mountains, and so remained for long. At last the Druids spoke their incantations over him, and laid hold of his limbs until he had recovered a little of his senses. "He then besought them for a drink. The Druids gave him a drink of forgetfulness. The moment he drank the drink he did not remember Fand, and all the things he had done." Emer also, being in no better state, was given draughts of oblivion ; whilst Manannan shook his cloak between Fand and Cuchulainn so that they should never meet again. Appended to this legend, there is a concluding state- ment, seemingly added by some Christian copyist. It explains that " the demoniac power was great before the Faith, and such was its greatness, that the demons used to corporeally tempt the people, and show them delights and secrets, as of how they would be in immortality." There are passages here, as in other ancient Gaelic legends, of interest to the physiological psychologist. Unwittingly, the writers have enumerated many signs of extreme nervous excitability in Cuchulainn, such as the 1 The sudden presence of Manannan, invisible to all the actors in this piece, except Fand, suggests the source from which sprites in modern plays and pantomimes have come. APPENDIX. 395 distortion of his face in battle, his convulsive leaps, his long inexplicable debility, into which he was thrown by strokes of wands, and from which he rouses suddenly. Symptoms similar, in many respects, are found in cases of " induced lethargy," or hypnotic trance. It is remarkable, also, that when aroused, Cuchulainn seeks a certain place (as if " suggested ") and there beholds a vision of Fand. The Druids, by their incantations, seemed to possess the power of inducing hypnosis. Descriptions such as those given, though exaggerated, were founded on observed facts, and are quite in harmony with our knowledge of neurotic exaltation in Celtic races. COPPER AND BRONZE BOATS. A curious anticipation of modern inventions is found in this passage in " The Sick-bed of Cuchulainn : " " They saw the little copper ship upon the lake before them. They then went into the ship, and they went into the island." Atlantis, Vol. IV., p. 381. Now the extant Irish manuscript from which this is translated was compiled by a grandson of Conn of the poor, an Ulster noble, who died in the year 1031. It is therefore certain that the Irish had conceived the idea of metal ships at a time long anterior to their recent inven- tion. They may also have reduced this idea to practice, for their riveted cauldrons in the Royal Irish Academy's Museum show great skill, and quite lately the model of a small gold ship was found. For mention of a bronze boat, see p. 184. APPENDIX. THE KING'S LAY' (pp. 357-369). This paraphrase is founded on an episode in the tale of " The Sick-bed of Cuchulainn," and supplies a strangely remarkable example of induced hypnosis amongst the ancient Irish. Thus runs the story : There had been no sovereign over Erinn for seven years, and four of its five realms met, in the year of the world 5167, at Tara, to select one who should be king. " They deemed it an evil that the Hill of Supremacy and Lordship of Erinn, that is Tara, should be without the rule of king upon it, and they deemed it an evil that the tribes should be without a king's government to judge their houses." They would not take the Ultonians into their council. In order to discover a suitable person, they prepared a bull-feast, thus : " a white bull was killed, and one man eat enough of his flesh and of his broth ; and a Charm of Truth was pronounced on him by four Druids ; and he saw in a dream the shape of the man who should be made king there, and his form, and his description, and the sort of work that he was engaged in. The man screamed out of his sleep, and described what he saw to the kings, namely, a young noble strong man, with two red streaks around him, and he sitting over the pillow of a man in a decline, in Emania, the royal capital of the Ultonians." The Druids were thus able to produce what modern medicine has recently recognized as hypnosis. 1 " The Sick-bed of Cuchulainn," etc. APPENDIX. 397 When the envoy arrives and identifies Lugai, Cuchulainn orally instructs him in the duties of a king. The original is printed as prose, by O'Curry, but is (I think) in irregular "Rosg," composed of brief injunctions, beginning thus in O'Curry's translation : " You shall not be a terrified man in a furious slavish fierce battle. You shall not be flighty inaccessible haughty. You shall not be intractable proud precipitate passionate. You shall not be bent down by the intoxication of much wealth." These injunctions are rendered into English verse, in a very free paraphrase. THE FATE OF THE CHILDREN OF LIR (pp. 140-143). This, the second " Sorrow of Story," concerns the gifted De Danann people. The tale relates that, after their defeat at Tailltin by the Milesian invaders (A.D. 3500), they held a general assembly, where their nobles chose Bove the Red as king. Lir withdrew in wrath, but after a time espoused Bove's daughter, Aev, and submitted. Twice she bore him twins (one of whom, Fionnuala, was a girl), then she died. Lir survived through the love he bore his children, and espoused his dead wife's sister, Aifa. For a time she loved them also, then sickened with jealousy, plotted their death, and, failing in that design, changed them by druidic power into swans, dooming them to abide for a long period on Loch Derryvara, in Meath ; for a second period on the current of the Moyle (now the Mull) of Cantire, and for a third period on the sea of Erris (Mayo). They should never recover human forms 398 APPENDIX. until the Tonsured (St. Patrick) came to Erinn. When Bove the king, a mighty Druid, heard of the crime he transformed Aifa into what she most hated, a demon of the air. It was ordered that henceforth no swan should be killed in Erinn, and even still, as O'Curry wrote, it is considered that an ill fate follows their killing. The prose narrative is interspersed by lays, in which Fionnuala describes, and laments their fate. The most pathetic are those given in this volume, in which she con- trasts their bitter exile on the Moyle with the former delights of home ; and where, when the term of banish- ment is over, coming back joyful to their native city, she tells how they find it empty, desolate, overgrown with weeds and forests. The end of their doom came with the coming of Christianity. On a day, the brothers heard a strange sound, and were greatly alarmed, but Fionnuala bade them rejoice, in a little lay : ",Hark, the cleric's bell now rings, Rise, and raise aloft your wings ; Thank the True God for that voice Listen, grateful, and rejoice. " Right it is that he should reign Who shall part you from your pain ; Part you from rude rock pillows And part you from rough billows. " Hence, I rede you now give ear, Gentle Children of King Lir ! Let us faith in heaven sing While the cleric's bell doth ring. " APPENDIX. 399 This old romantic tale has supplied themes to Moore, Dr. Todhunter, Dr. Douglas Hyde, Mrs. Katharine Tynan-Hinkson, and some others. FATE OF THE CHILDREN OF TUIRENN : (p. 189). In this, the third of "The Sorrows of Story," the visible and the invisible, the historical and the mythical are mingled. This summary will suffice : Nuad of the Silver Hand was sovereign of the fair and skilful De" Dananns. At this time the Fomorians, another section of the ancient Northmen, levied tribute on the De" Dananns, which was paid each year at the Hill of Usna, which was also named Balor's Hill (in Westmeath), where the five parts of Erinn met. The king had called an assembly. Soon they beheld an army advance, whose chief was radiant as the sun at setting. This was Lugh the Long-handed, chief of the Fairy Cavalcade, a friend of the De" Dananns. When the grim Fomorian tax gatherers appeared, Lugh fell upon them and slew all but nine, whom he spared to go as envoys to Lochlann (i.e. Norway), where their king Balor ruled who was Lugh's grandsire. Balor, on hearing the tidings, sped his son Breas with ships and men, who promised to bring the head of Lugh, the loldanach (craft master) to Berbe. a Then the Fo- 1 "Atlantis," Vol. IV. Text edited and translated by Pro- fessor O'Curry. a This may be intended for Bergen. 40O APPENDIX. morian king, following Breas to the port, made a mighty menace : " Give battle to the loldanach and cut off his head," he said, "and tie that island which is called Erinn to the stern of your ships and your good barques, and let the dense verging water take its place, and set it upon the north side of Lochlann (Norway), and not one of the De Danann people will follow it there till doom." Breas landed at Easdara (now Ballysadare, Sligo) and took the spoil of West Connacht. One morning he cried out amazed at seeing the sunrise in the west but it was the radiance from the face of Lugh, who led the Fairy Cavalcade against him. Lugh saluted and parleyed, being of half De Danann, half Fomorian blood; but Breas, refusing restitution, was defeated. Now Lugh's father had been slain in a blood-feud by the Children of Tuirenn. The earth gave evidence against them. Then in expiation of their offence, they were condemned, with the sanction of the De" Dananns, to perform nine tasks of exceeding difficulty, the first being to obtain apples from the Hesperides. Their doom was a prolonged torture. The tale is chiefly con- cerned with their wonderful and perilous adventures. After many dangers and disappointments, wounded to death, they accomplished their last task and returned to Erinn. This ship approached its shores, having suffered on the weary seas, and Brian, the strongest, cried out : "I see Benn Edair, Tuirenn's fort, and Tara of the Kings ! " " We were full of health could we see them," APPENDIX. 401 exclaimed another, "and for thine honour's love, raise our heads on thy breast that we may see Erinn from us, and then come life or death, we care not, after that." They reached their country and their fort, wounded to death, and their father bore to Tara the result of their last victorious effort. All their tasks were done, but they were dying, and their father implored Lugh to give him one of their spoils a magic skin, which should cover and cure them. Lugh, remembering his own father's fate, remorselessly refused their father's prayer. Then Brian was borne into his presence, bleeding, in order to beseech that his younger brothers at least might be saved. Lugh pitilessly replied that for earth's expanse in gold he would not yield the skin, because of their deed. Then Brian returned and lay down between his brothers, and they died together. Tuirenn spoke their dirge, and, falling upon the breasts of his sons, his soul went forth from him. They were buried in one grave. DIVER'S DRESS IN THE TUIRENN TALE. Besides the strange parallel in Balor's speech to a passage in John Bright's, there is a curious anticipation of the diving dress (invented about 1825 !) in the following : " And then Brian put on his water dress, with a trans- parency otgloine (of crystal or glass) upon his head; and he made a water-leap, and it is said that he was for a fortnight walking in the salt water seeking the Isle of Fianchaire." Atlantis, Vol. IV., p. 219. D D 402 APPENDIX. LAYS OF FINN AND THE FIANNA : OSSIANIC POEMS (pp. 115-135)- A long and acrid contest has been waged between some of the Gael of Erinn and of Alba in relation to this poetry. The cause of the war lay in the strategy of Macpherson, who, in order to exalt the Ossianic poetry which he professed to translate, depreciated certain later Irish Ossianic lays. He also, indeed, bore ardent tes- timony to the beauty of Irish love poetry, and the skill of the Irish bards ; but this was passed over. When it was ascertained that Macpherson had no original for his pretended translation, the reaction against him made men forget that the poor Highland tutor, who could com- bine Gaelic fragments into a work so remarkable as his " Ossian," must have been a man of genius. O'Curry cannot assign any certain date to the poems attributed to Fionn (or Finn) and Oisin (or Ossian). He remarks, however, that some of these compositions are contained in the "Book of Leinster," which was com- piled in the early part of the twelfth century, " and cer- tainly from much more ancient books." Mr. W. F. Skene, in his introduction to the Dean of Lismore's Book, states that the oldest poem of this character in MSS. preserved in the Highlands is found prior to the year 1500. Mr. Skene thinks that Ossianic poetry passed through three stages: ist. There were pure poems common to Ireland and Scotland (and some to the Isle of Man and to Wales); 2nd. Some of the APPENDIX. 403 archaic forgotten verses were replaced by a prose narra- tive; 3rd. "The third class of Ossianic poems belongs principally to that period when, during the sway of the Lords of the Isles, Irish influence was so much felt on the language and literature of the Highlands, and when the Highland bards and Seannachies were trained in bardic schools presided over by Irish bards of eminence." Though I believe, with Mr. Skene, that in many cases a later prose romance enshrines archaic poems, I also believe that, in some cases, as in "The Fate of the Children of Usnach," there was another order of composi- tion. Here we had the story presented in dramatic form, with ancient lays introdued to be sung, just as some of Shakespeare's dramas include older English ballads. The most impressive fact in connection with these ancient poems is their immense vitality. Thus Hector Mac Lean, the Bard of Islay, in a preface to the "Ultonian Hero-Ballads " 1 says : " These ballads have for many centuries been sung and rehearsed in the Highlands. There have been many who could sing ' Fraoch ' till very lately in Islay. A few years ago Angus Mac Eachern often sang and rehearsed 'Conlaoch,' and many other old Gaelic poems, but there are few left now in Islay who can sing old Gaelic ballads or rehearse old Gaelic poems." " In Ireland," O'Curry writes, " I have heard my father 1 " Ultonian Hero-Ballads : collected in the Highlands and Western Isles of Scotland," by Hector Mac Lean. Glasgow : Sinclair, 1892. The Mac Leans claim descent from the Irish Fitz- geralds, as the Mac Leods from the last Norse king of Man. 404 APPENDIX. sing these Ossianic poems, and remember distinctly the air and the manner of their singing. " Previous to this there had been a teacher, named O'Brien, " who spent much of his time in my father's house," O'Curry adds, "and who was the best singer of Oisin's poems that his contemporaries had ever heard. He had a rich and powerful voice ; and often, on a calm summer day, he would go with a party into a boat on the lower Shannon, at my native place, where the river is eight miles wide ; and having rowed to the middle of the river, they used to lie on their oars ... on which occasions O'Brien was always prepared to sing his choicest pieces, among which were no greater favourites than Oisin's poems. So power- ful was the singer's voice that it often reached the shores at either side of the boat, in Clare and Kerry, and often called the labouring men and women from the neighbour- ing fields at both sides down to the water's edge to enjoy the strains of the music." How noble and astonishing would such statements seem if they related to the peasantry of other countries. If the Venetian boatmen were heard singing Dante from their gondolas, the Norman peasants the Romance of Roland, the Spanish the lays of the Cid Campeador, the German the Nibelungenlied, the Norse the Eddas if the English peasants assembled to sing the verse of Chaucer, Layamon's " Brut," or the " Battle of Brunan- burh," there would be just and general praise, with wise and generous encouragement. A different policy directed the extinction of the intellectual inheritance of the Gael, APPENDIX. 405. because pigmy prejudice ruled where large intelligence would have guided. DIRGE FOR GAEL, BY CREDE, OR GELGEIS (p. 126). When the great battle of Ventry Harbour, famed in Irish romance, was over Crede" and other gentle and simple women of Erinn went over the shoreward region seeking the bodies of their husbands on the field of slaughter. Whilst still searching, Crede* observed a heron risking her own life to defend her two younglings against a fierce fox. "No wonder I should love my gentle comrade," she said, "when a bird is in such anguish over its birds." Then she heard the stag on the mountain over the bay, belling lamentably from pass to pass, for his dead hind. They had dwelt in the forest nine years together, and now, for nineteen days, he had touched neither grass nor water, mourning her loss. " No shame for me to find death through grief for Gael," said Crede, "when the stag is shortening his life for a hind." Then she met Fergus on the battle-field, and asked had he tidings of Gael for her. " I have," answered Fergus, " for he and the chief of the household of the King of the World (the invader) have drowned each other." " Little the need for me to bewail Gael and the Clanna Baiscne', for the birds and the billows do strongly bewail them." She sang his death-song, and when it was ended, the soul of Cred parted from her body for grief of Gael, the son of Crimtann. Her grave was made over Ventry, a 406 APPENDIX. stone was raised above her tomb, and her funeral games were celebrated. This account of the poem is summarized from the translation given by Professor Kuno Meyer, 1 who states that the Bodleian manuscript from which it was taken dates from the fourteenth century, and was written out for the Lady Saiv O'Maille". One episode in the romance is peculiarly chivalric and pathetic. When the news spread that Erinn had been invaded, the aged king of Ulster lamented his inability to march against them. His only son, Goll, a boy of thirteen, offered to go, but was forbidden on account of his years, and confined. He, however, could not bear to remain aloof, and, taking arms from Emania, he and his twelve foster-brothers escaped to the battle-field. The twelve youths fell in the fight, and Goll, seized with grief and battle-fury, slew the hostile champion, but lost his senses. His madness has been taken as the theme of a powerful poem by Mr. W. B. Yeats. ST. COLUMBANUS : AN EPOCH-MAKING POEM (p. 36). In the evolution of European verse, one poem, the epistle of St. Columbanus to Fedolius, deserves a most prominent place. It has been mentioned with praise because of its singular classic form and grace and ethical 1 Meyer, "Anecdota Oxon." Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1885. Another version is given in " Sylva Gadelica," by Mr. Standish Hayes O'Grady, in which the heroine is identified as Crede. APPENDIX. 4O7 interest by several writers. None has discovered that it is the first Latin poem (not being a hymn) which presents a perfect system of vowel or asonant rime. This poem, copied and circulated by his great monastic Schools of Annegray, Luxueil, and Bobbio, by that of his famous disciple St. Gall, and by the Irish professors of the School of Charlemagne, and of the Palace, must have exercised a controlling influence over the emerging literatures of Europe. Not less important than its asonance is the fact that it introduces into Latin verse the use of returning words, or burthens, with variations, which supply the vital germs of the rondeau and the ballade. It is also very curious that St. Columbanus describes how to construct his poem, just as Voiture told how to make a rondeau and La Fontaine a ballade. The Gaelic precursor of the rondeau is seen in St. Columba's short poem, " The Fall of the Book-Satchels." St. Columbanus died in 615, and, in a few hexameters accompanying this light Adonic verse, he makes a touching allusion to his debility and age. He died soon after. To appreciate the harmonious riming, the vowels should be pronounced in the Continental manner : we must also remember that the Irish (and the Spaniards after them) recognize rime between the " slender " vowels, i, e (and here se), and amongst the broad vowels, a, o, u. Now, in this poem, the dissyllabic rimes are so chosen as to produce the fullest effect and variety. Thus we find, (i) a slender and a broad vowel end-rime (qu&so, versu) ; then, (2) a broad and a slender ( alt, nobis) ; next, two 408 APPENDIX. broad vowels ( orum, parna) ; and lastly (4) two slender vowels ( enter, redde]. Again, these rimes are varied in distribution, so that sometimes they alternate, sometimes several of the same kind are grouped together an early suggestion of la poesie libre. This discovery seems of such importance to the history of European literature that I quote the poem in full, ranging the lines according to their asonant rimes. EPISTOLA COLUMBANI AD Accipe, quseso, Nunc periturae Nunc bipedali Munera gazse : Condita uersu Non quod auarus Carminulorum Semper egendo Munera parua : Congregat aurum : Tuque frequenter Quod sapientum Mutua nobis Lumina caecat Obsequiorum Et uelut ignis Debita redde. Flamma perurit j Nam uelut sestu, Improba corda. Flantibus Austris, Saepe nefanda Arida gaudent Crimina multis Imbribus arua Suggerit auri Sic tua nostras Dira cupido, Missa frequenter E quibus ista Laetificabit Nunc tibi pauca Pagina mentes. Tempore prisco Gesta retexam. Non ego posco Extitit ingens 1 Ex. MSS. bibliothecse monasterii S. Galli, anno 1604 a M. Goldasto et Henr. Canisio edita. In Veterum Epistolarum Hibernicarum Sylloge. Usserius, 1632. APPENDIX. 409 Causa malorum Aurea pellis. Corruit auri Munere paruo Coena Dearum ; Ac tribus illis Maxima lis est Orta Deabus. Hinc populavit Trojugenarum Ditia regna Dorica pubes. Juraque legum Fasque fidesque Rumpitur auro. Impia quippe Pygmalionis Regis ob aurum Gesta leguntur. Sic Polydorum Hospes auarus Incitus auro Fraude necauit. Fcemina saepe Perdit ob aurum Casta pudorem. Non Jouis auri Fluxit in imbre : Sed quod adulter Obtulit aurum Aureus ille Fingitur imber. Amphiaraum Prodidit auro Perfida conjunx. Hectoris heros Uendidit auro Corpus Achilles Et reserari Munere certo Nigra feruntur Limina Ditis. Nunc ego possem Plura referre Ni breuitatis Causa uetaret. Msec tibi, Frater Inclyte, parua Litterularum Munera mittens, Suggero uanas Linquere curas. Desine, quseso, Nunc animosos Pascere pingui Farre caballos : Lucraque lucris Accumulando, Desine nummis Addere nummos. Ut quid iniquis Consociaris, Munera quarum Crebra receptas ? Odit iniqui Munera Christ us. Haec sapienti Despicienda, Qui fugitiuae Atque caducse Cernere debet Tempora uitse. Sumcet autem Ista loquaci Nunc cecinisse Carmina uersu. 4io APPENDIX. Nam nova forsan Esse videtur Ista legenti Formula uersus. Sed tamen ilia Trojugenarum Inclyta uates Nomina Sappho, Uersibus istis Dulce solebat Edere carmen. Si tibi cura Forte uolenti Carmina tali Condere uersu, Semper et unus Ordine certo Dactylus istic Incipiat pes : Inde sequent! Parte trochseus Proximus illi Rite locetur. Saepe duabus Claudere longis Ultima versus lure licebit. Tu modo, Frater Alme Fedoli, Nectare nobis Dulcior omni, Floridiora Doctiloquorum Carmina linquens, Frivola nostra Suscipe Isetus.. Sic tibi Christus Arbiter orbis Omnipotentis Unica proles, Dulcia uitae Guadia reddat : Qui sine fine, Nomine Patris Cuncta gubernans Regnat in asuum. SEDULIUS : BARDIC POEM IN LATIN (p. 38). Whilst the great bard, Sedulius, in the fifth century, gave in his " Carmen Paschale " the first Christian epic, another Sedulius, in the ninth century, obtained distinction in lighter verse, as well as in prose. Appearing at the time it did, the graceful poetry of the later Sedulius must have greatly influenced the nascent literatures of Europe. Preserving the Latin metrical forms, he infused into the structure of his verse the subtle and profuse Irish rime, a APPENDIX. 411 fact which has passed unnoticed by his learned editor, Herr Duemmler. 1 Sedulius's poem, " The Contest of the Rose and the Lily " which should have been translated by Moore, so kindred in spirit, is given here. In the first two stanzas I have marked the bardic alliteration and other rimes : DE ROSsE LILIIQUE CERTAMINE, SEDULIUS CECINIT. POETA. Ciclica quadryfc/z'.r currebant tempora metis, uernabat uan'0 tellus decorataque ^>eplo, lacteo cum roseis certabant lilia sertis, Cum rosa sic croceo sermones prompserat ore : ROSA. Purpura dat regnum, fit purpura gloria regni, regibus ingrato uilescunt alba colore, albida pallescunt misero marcentia uultu, puniceus color est toto uenerabilis orbe. LILIUM. Me decus auricomum telluris pulcher Apollo diliget ac niueo faciem uestiuit honore ; quid, rosa, tanta refers pudibundo perlita fuco conscia delicti, uultus tibi nonne rubescit. 1 " Sedulii Scotti Carmina Quadraginta ex Codice Bruxellensi " edidit Ernestus Duemmler. Halis Saxonum, 1858. Herr Duemmler gives forty poems selected from the Brussels Codex which contains eighty-seven. This codex dates from the twelfth century. He states that Sedulius left Ireland between 840 and 860 ; that he was probably Abbot of St. Lambert's Monastery, Liege. He was a friend of Guntharius, Archbishop of Cologne, of Haddo, Abbot of Fulda, and mentions five fellow Irish priests, Fergus, Marcus, Ben- chellus, Dermoth, and Blandus. 412 APPENDIX. ROSA. Sum soror Aurorse dims cognata supernis et me Phebus amat, rutili sum nuntia Phebi. Lucifer ante meum hilarescit currere uultum ast mihi uirginei decoris rubet alma uenustas. LlLlUM. Talia cur tumidis eructas uerba loquelis, quse tibi dant meritas aeterno uulnere penas ? nam diadema tui spinis terebratur acutis, eheu ! quam miserum laniant spineta rosetum ! ROSA. Ut quid deliras uerbis, occata uenustas, quse tu probra refers plenia sunt omnia laude, conditor omnicreans spina me sepsit acuta, muniit et roseos praeclaro tegmine uultus. LILIUM. Aureoli decoris mihi uertex comitur almus nee sum spinigera crudelis septa corona, profluitat niueis dulci lac ubere mammis, sic holerum dominam me dicunt esse beatam. POETA. Tune Uer florigera iuuenis pausabat in herba, olli legmen erat pictum uiridantibus herbis, ipsius ad patulas redolebant balsama nares floripotensque caput sertis redimibat honoris. UER. Pignora cara mei, cur uos contenditis ? inquit, gnoscite uos geminas tellure parente sorores, num fas germanas lites agitare superbas ? o rosa pulchra, tace tua gloria claret in orbe, regia sed nitidis dominentur lilia sceptris. hinc decus et species uestrum uos laudet in seuum, forma pudiciciae nostris rosa gliscat in hortis splendida Phebeo uos lilia crescite uultu, APPENDIX. 413 tu rosa martiribus rutilam das stemmate palmam, lilia uirgineas turbas decorate stolatas. POETA. Et tune Uer genitor geminis dans oscula pads concordat dulces patrio de more puellas. lilia tune croceae dant oscula data sorori ilia sed huic ludens spinetis ore momordit. lilia uernigense ludum risere puellse ambroseo bibulum potant et lacte rosetum. at rosa puniceus calathis fert xenia flores ac niueam largo germanam ditat honore. VISION POEMS (p. 39). In the last century many popular ballads, largely Jacobite, were constructed on a common model, though differing in metre. The bard slept, when, suddenly, there came to him a beautiful maiden, more radiant than the sun, who comforted him in sorrow, and foretold a brilliant future for his country. I have found a poem in Latin elegiac verse, dating from the ninth century, con- structed in the same manner. 1 So that this Gaelic model (for the author of the Latin was one of the monks of St. Gall's) dates back a thousand years. The type seems to have disappeared for ages and to have been inde- pendently revived. This is the opening of the Latin poem, where the vision is Wisdom : " Umbrifera quadam nocte de pectore somnum Carpebam fessis luminibusque meis, Auricomse quedam tune fulgens forma puellse Clarior enituit sole rubente mihi. 1 In " Reliquie Celtiche : il manoscritto irlandese di San Gallo," Constantino Nigra. Firenze, Torino, Roma, 1872. 414 APPENDIX. Ilia puro nimis tangens a vertice celum Florida tellura dum gradiretur ea, Lumina contulerat radientia fronte superna Quis uidet etheria rura mareque simul. Ubera lactifero referebat pectore bina His pascit modicos quos jubet atque rudes. Sic exorsa sua verba pulcherrima virgo Cum gelidus sudor fuderat ossa mea : Quid miser ut trepidus non sum fallentis imago Sed permissu deo uera referre sinor, Cognita gravigenis sic sum ueneranda latinis Utrisque merito signaque dupla veho Inde Sophia vocor grece Sapientia rome," l etc. QUEEN GORMLAI'S LAMENT (p. 179). Perhaps the most pathetic and picturesque figure in Irish history is that of Queen Gormlai, who lived in the early part of the tenth century. Daughter of Flann Siona, King of Ireland, she was, according to an old writer, " a very fair, vertuous, and learned damosell." She was first married to Cormac, King of Munster, but he became an ecclesiastic, renounced the marriage, and restored the princess with her dowry to her father. From motives of policy, she was forced to accept King Cearball of Leinster, and her father and husband, with united forces, made war upon Munster, defeated, killed, and beheaded its king-bishop Cormac, in 903. Cearball was wounded, and Gormlai watched over his sick-bed. Seated one day at the foot of his couch, she ventured to regret the 1 There are some interlinear emendations which I omit. APPENDIX. 415 mutilation of the dead king-bishop ; on which Cearball, in a rage, thrusting forth his foot, threw her upon the floor, in presence of her attendants. She at once left his court, because of this outrage, and sought refuge with her father ; but Flann, instead of avenging the insult, sent her back to his ally. Her kinsman, the Prince of Ulster, Niall Glunduv, however, took rapid action, for, gathering the northern clans, he marched to Leinster, offered his protection, and secured her a separation and royal maintenance. Cearball also released her from her spousal vows; but she declined to accept the hand of Niall, and resided with her father. Next year Cearball was killed in battle by the Norse-Irish of Dublin, and then her marriage with Niall was celebrated. Then came a time of prosperity and splendour, when life was full of happiness. Her husband succeeded as Over-king of Ireland. In 917 he planned a great assault upon Dublin, and, confident of triumph, called all comers to share the spoils. The Irish-Norse met him outside their city, at Kilmasog, near Rathfarnham. The cleric who had refused him a horse to leave the battle-field, administered the last sacraments. Queen Gormlai's elder brother was killed there, her younger brother succeeded and reigned for a time. Then the sovereign power passed away from her father's and her husband's houses. By King Niall, says the old chronicler, " she had issue a son, who was drownded, upon whose death she made many pittiful and learned ditties in Irish." But, "after all which royal marriages she begged from door to door, 416 APPENDIX. forsaken of all her friends and allies, and glad to be re- lieved by her inferiors." After wanderings, many and sorrowful, she at last received the injury which ultimately proved her death- wound. It came to her in a manner sad and touching as anything poet ever imagined. Having one night taken refuge in an humble hut, she went to sleep on a rude couch. Then : " She dreamed that she saw King Neale Glunduffe, whereupon she got up and sate in her bed to behold him ; whom he for anger would forsake, and leave the chamber ; and as he was departing in that angry motion (as she thought), she gave a snatch after him, thinking to have taken him by the mantle, to keep him with her, and fell upon one of the bed-sticks of her bed, that it pierced her breast even to the very heart, which received no cure until she died thereof." During the fatal progress of this "long and grievous wound," she composed some of her " learned and pittiful ditties." That of which a translation is given has surely the very spirit of poetry, and lovers of literature owe gratitude to the Dean of Lismore for its preservation. IRISH Music IN LEGENDS (p. 126, etc.). The ancient Irish were as devoted to music as to literature, and excelled in both. Giraldus Cambrensis, who accompanied King Henry II. to Ireland, and wrote an account of the country, describes the Irish as more skilled in music than any other nation. Two strange APPENDIX. 417 legends, translated by O'Curry, may be quoted to show what power was assigned to music in their old imagina- tive literature. The " Cruit," or harp, is the first musical instrument mentioned. This reference is found in an ancient his- torical romance, which professes to describe a battle that was fought, sixteen hundred years before the Christian era, between the Tuata De Dananns, and the Viking Fomorians. The Fomorians, defeated at Moy Tuire (Sligo), retired, taking as their captive the harper of the Dagda a great chief and druid of their foes. Dagda, the King, and the Champion of the De Dananns followed ; and, when the invaders sate at food, the three heroes entered the door of the banqueting house. They saw the harp hanging mute upon the wall, for the music was spell-bound in it, so that it gave answer to none who essayed its chords, till the Dagda evoked it. Thus he spoke : " Come, Murmur of the Apple Tree ; come, Hive of Melody ; come, Summer ; come, Winter, from the mouths of harps, and hollows and pipes." Then the harp sprang from the wall and rushed through the banquet hall, killing nine foemen in its way, till it came to the Dagda. He clasped it, and played the Three Master- pieces of Music he played the Goltrai (plaintive music), until the Fomorian women wept tears; then he played the Gentrai (mirthful music), until their women and young warriors broke into laughter ; lastly he played the Suantrai (slumberous music), until the whole host fell asleep. Then the three champions retired safely from EE 41 8 APPENDIX. the midst of their enemies, who had been eager to slay them. The second story is stranger and wilder still, though the date assigned to the subject the Battle of the Hill of Almain (now Allen, Kildare), is later, A.D. 718. The Over-king, Fergal, who lived at Aileach (near Derry) invaded Leinster to exact the Borumean tribute ; he brought with him Donnbo, the most accomplished youth in the world, as regards singing, telling royal stories, mounting spears, and equipping steeds. When the monarch had pitched his tent at Almain, he sent to his minstrel Donnbo, and bade him make melody then, as they would give battle in the morning. Donnbo declared that he was unable that night, " but wherever thou art to- morrow night, I shall make melody for thee. Let the king's fool 1 amuse thee this night." The battle was fought, the Northern army defeated, and both minstrel and monarch were slain the former in defence of his king. That night, whilst the Leinster chiefs were feasting and relating their exploits, Murcad, the king's son, challenged any Champion to go forth to the battle-field, and return with a token. A Champion of Munster accepted, donned his arms, and went far into the darkness. At last, upon the battle-field, he came to the place where King Fergal's 1 It is curious that motley was the fool's garb, as in Shakespeare's time in England. The rules regarding colours of dress given in the Book of Ballimote are these: "Mottled to fools, blue to women, crimson to all kings, green and black to noble laymen, white to pious priests." APPENDIX. 419 body lay. Then, in the night-silence, he heard Some- thing near, in the air above him, which said (for he heard the words) : " Here is a command to you from the King of the Seven Heavens. Make melody for your lord to-night : though to-night ye be all, pipers, trumpeters, and harpers, fallen on the field. Let nor fear nor feeble- ness hinder ye from performing for Fergal." Then the Warrior heard arise the music of singers, and trumpeters, and pipers, and harpers a great variety of music he heard, and better heard he never, before or after. And he heard in a cluster of rushes near him a Dord Fiansa (a strange strain) the sweetest of all the world's music. The Warrior went towards it. "Come not nigh me," said the head. " I quest who thou art ? " said the Warrior. " I am the Head of Donnbo ; I was bound in bond to sing to the king this night : do not thou interrupt." " Where is the body of Fergal ? " " 'Tis the body that shineth beyond thee, yonder," said the Head. " I ask, shall I take thee also, for thee I would prefer," said the Warrior. "I would that nothing should take me but Christ, God's Son : give me Christ's guarantee thou wilt bring me back to my body," said the Head. " I will bring thee," said the Warrior. Then he returned to the banquet at Condail, 1 with the Head, and found Leinster drinking. "Hast brought a token with thee?" asked Murcad. "I have brought the Head of Donnbo," replied the Warrior. " Place it on yonder post," said Murcad. Then all the assembly knew it to be the Head 1 Now Old Connal, Co. Kildare. 420 APPENDIX. of Donnbo, and they all exclaimed : " Alas, for thee, O Donnbo, fair was thy countenance ! Make melody for us to-night as thou'st made it for thy lord." He turned his face towards the wall of the house, that it might be in darkness, and he raised his Dord Fiansa on high, and it was sweeter than all music on the surface of the earth, so that all the assembly were wailing and sorrowing, through the mournfulness and tenderness of the melody." : MUSIC IN THE IRISH-NORSE KINGDOM (p. 185). The generosity of the Norse-Irish to the bards, which is extolled in the Irish Viking lay, extended to the minstrels. This is manifest from the following historical fact. About the year noo, the Welsh, already distin- guished in music, had their musical canon regulated by- Irish harpers. Now, Griffith ap Conan 2 appealed for these instructors to King Olaf (or Aulaf), son of King Sitric, of Dublin. The Norse-Irish king, acceding to his request sent a number of eminent harpers, the chief of whom, Olar Gerdawwr, bore a Norse-Irish name as did each of the company, with the exception of Mathuloch Gwyddell the Gael. Irish airs were carried northward, and the late eminent Swedish harper, H. Sjoden, gave examples of several which have survived, with some variations the "Cruis- keen Ian " being one. 1 O'Curry, "Manners and Customs," Vol. III., p. 311 ; transla- tion slightly modified. 2 " Welsh Archaeology," Vol. III. APPENDIX. 421 EARL GERALD THE POET (p. 208). Here we have an excellent example of the fascination which Irish literature threw over high-natured invaders. The southern branch of the Fitz Geralds took the name of Fitz Maurice (from Maurice Fitz Gerald). The first Earl of Desmond (South Munster) obtained his title in 1329, and had some literary taste as an enemy called him " the rhymer," and suffered for it. Gerald, the fourth Earl, married a daughter of the Earl of Ormond, and became Lord Justice of Ireland in 1367. He was, therefore, a Palesman of the Pale. But his large and cultured mind passed the frontiers, and obtained a knowledge and a mastery of the language and literature of the ancient nation. In the Annals of the Four Masters, the note of his death bears tribute to his qualities : " Gearoitt, Earl of Desmond, a pleasant and courteous man, surpassed all the foreigners of Erinn and a multitude of the Gael in the knowledge and science of the Irish language, in poetry, and history, as well as in other learning." The Annals of Clonmacn6is give more detail, in the old translator's words : " The Lord Garett, Earle of Desmond, a noble- man of wonderful bountie, mirth, cheerfulness in conver- sation, charitable in his deeds, easy of access, a witty and ingenious composer of Irish poetry, and a learned and profound chronicler, and, in fine, one of the English nobilitie that had Irish learning and professors thereof in greatest reverence of all the English of Ireland, died penitently, after the receipt of the Sacraments of the Holy Church." He also composed some Norman poetry. 422 APPENDIX. The specimen of his Irish poems which has been translated in this volume, as an example of the work of a bard of the Galls (or Foreigners) of Erinn, was obtained from the Dean of Lismore's Book (Edinburgh, 1862). This is a selection from the " Gaelic Commonplace Book " of James McGregor, Dean of Lismore, in the Perthshire Highlands, wherein James and Duncan, his brother, committed to writing, in phonetic form, 307 Gaelic poems. Many of these are by Irish bards, of which eight are Earl Gerald's. It was fortunate for Irish litera- ture, that these fine old Highlanders rescued so many lays, which might otherwise have been lost. That Perth should retain what had disappeared from Kerry is one of those strange things which are occasionally found in connection with Irish literature. But the Norman noble, the English King's Lord Justice and Earl, was not only an Irish bard. He was absorbed completely into the Irish nation, which ever absorbed and assimilated all worthy invaders, and he was promoted into the mythology of the Gael ! O'Donovan says : " Tradition still vividly remembers this Garrett : it is said that his spirit appears once in seven years on Lough Gur, where he had a castle." Hardiman gives the legend more fully, though he attaches it to the Great Earl, whose estates of 800,000 acres Elizabeth confiscated : " He is supposed," writes Hardiman, " by the country people, even to this day, to be bound to an enchanted pillar in Lough Gur, a lake nine miles south of Limerick. They report that, at the end of every seven years he may be seen riding on APPENDIX. 423 the lake, on an enchanted charger, and that, when his horse's shoes, which are of silver, are worn out, he will return to life and destroy the enemies of Ireland." GREEN EYES, GRAY EYES (p. 309). The Greek poets mention, at least, two colours in speaking of eyes : 6ea KvavHJ-mf and yXavKtiiric;, blue-eyed and green-eyed. But the latter epithet denotes a pale green, like the sea's tint, at times. The Latin poets use niger, black, and cceruleus, sea-green, or dark blue. In Gaelic there are two words representing green, one is glas meaning both the sea (archaic) and the colour : the other is tiaitne. Bothareused todescribe theeyes in poems of praise. I believe glas is employed to describe that colour seen in " Irish gray eyes " " the grayest of all things blue, the bluest of all things gray." This belief is founded on the comparison of such eyes to sparkling dew. In " Fairy Mary Barry " the maiden's eyes are like dew on springing corn, hence it may have a tint of green ; but in other verses dew alone is the term of comparison. Thus we have : " Do rioga rosg lir Is glaise na driicd." ' ' Thy royal young eyes More gray than dew." again : " A suile as glaise deallrad Na 'n dnicd air maidin t-samraid." " Her eyes more grayly radiant Than dew on morning of summer." 424 APPENDIX. But the second word for green, uattne, is also used, without such reference, e.g. : " A stoirin an roisg uaitne." " O little treasure of the green eyes." In this case the bard probably refers to a dark, velvety green which is sometimes noticeable in southern Irish eyes. English poets do not venture to sing of green eyes, except as associated with jealousy. But Dante describes Beatrice's eyes as emeralds, and Longfellow quotes the commentator Lami, who wrote : " Erano i suoi occhi d'un turchino verdiccio, simile a quel del mare." " Her eyes were of a greenish hue, similar to that of the sea." In "The Spanish Gipsy " the poet quotes references to green eyes from Bohl de Faber : " Ay, ojuelos verdes * * * * Tengo confianza De mis ojos verdes. " This characteristic may yield some support to the Milesian claim of Spanish ancestry. EIVLEEN A RUIN (p. 237). Professor Blackie in 1867 directed attention to the cultivation of the ancient Celtic language in Ireland. He rebuked the learned men of Ireland and of Britain for their shameless neglect of a noble and historic tongue which had attracted the attention and merited the earnest work of the best philologists of the Continent. "Welshmen APPENDIX. 425 of every class," he said, "cultivate their language with assiduity. Some of the brilliant names in English literature are of Welshmen ; but, being profound English scholars, they are not the less profound Cymric." Having referred to the abundant products of the press in Wales, he proceeded : " When the Cambri-Briton leaves his barrens for fat and fertile England, or when he crosses the Atlantic to build himself a home on the St. Lawrence or the Mississippi, he carries his language with him, and clings to it with the same tenacity that he strives for wealth. Such feelings are the sureties of National Life. Yet we venture," he added, " to ask for a Welsh parallel to ' Eibhlin a Ruin.' " " Is breaga na Benus tu, Is ailne na reultan tu, Mo Helen gan beim is tu A Eibhlin a Ruin. Mo ros, mo HI, mo caer is tu, Mo stor a bfuil 's an tsaegal so tu, Run mo croide is mo cleib is tu A Eibhlin a Ruin." " More beauteous than Venus, far, More fair than the midnight star, My Helen unstained you are, Eivleen a Ruin. My red rose, my lily white, My treasure on earth so bright, Darling ! my heart's delight, Eivleen a Ruin ! " " The horrible materialism that asks ' where will Irish carry you when you cast loose from Dublin quays 426 APPENDIX. measures everything by money value or mechanical utility, and contemptuously scouts every measure but its own." THE MORNING POWER OF FAIRIES (pp. 239, 249, etc.). The dawning hour seems the most favourable to spirit manifestations. This may be observed in the " Dawning of the Day," and in other poems. The belief in also well shown in an ancient legend, quoted by O'Curry : Of a morning, Conn of the Hundred Battles fared at sunrise to the ramparts of the Royal Fort at Tara, accompanied by his three Druids, and his three bards ; for he was wont daily to repair thither to watch the firmament, so that no hostile aerial beings should descend upon Erinn, unknown to him. While standing in his wonted place, this morning, Conn trod upon a stone, and immediately it shrieked beneath his feet, so that it could be heard all over Tara and throughout all Bregia. His Druids, after many days, discovered and told him on the same spot that this was the Lia Fail the Stone of Fail (whence Innis-fail) the number of its shrieks told the number of kings of his race who should succeed him on the throne. Conn stood musing on the revelation, when suddenly a mist arose and inclosed them in such darkness, that they could not see each other. Then, in the deep silence, they heard the tramp of a Cavalier approach, and thrice a spear was cast rapidly towards them, coming each time closer. The Druid cried aloud in protest : " it is a viola- APPENDIX. 427 tion of the sacred person of a King to cast at Conn in Tara." The Cavalier disclosed himself, saluted the King, and invited all to his mansion. There, on a noble plain, they entered a royal court, and beheld a beautiful princess. Before her was a silver vat full of red ale, a golden ladle, and a golden cup. The Cavalier, assuming the seat at the head of the table, bade all his guests be seated. The princess presented Conn with the bare ribs of a giant ox and giant boar, and the vessels of gold and silver Then, filling the cup from the ladle, she asked the Knight (who was one who had returned from the Dead) to whom she should give the cup. He answered " To Conn : " the question was then repeated time after time, and the Phantom-Prince named all the kings in succession who should after Conn inherit the sovereignty of Tara. FAIRY WINDS. " The Irish held the belief," wrote O'Kearney, " that the Red Wind of the Hills as they called the blasting wind, against the influence of which they had a potent charm, was caused by the rapid evolution of the fairies through the air, while engaged in their battles." Again : " There was another species of blast which was supposed to destroy fruit and cereal crops as well as having power to injure man and beast : this was caused by the ashes of the Dead deposited in foreign countries, returning on the breeze of summer to settle in the ancestral place of burial, and whatever object came in contact with 428 APPENDIX. this dust, in the course of its transit, suffered more or less injury." It is surprising to find an ancient legend which so closely anticipates a recent medical theory touching the causation of Russian influenza by emanations from Chinese corpses. FAIRY LULLABY (p. 344). The tune to which these words are sung, is, says Petrie, a beautiful and a very ancient example of the Suantraide (or Slumber-music) one of the three classes of music said to have been brought to Erinn by the Tuata De Dananns. He points out its strong affinity with the lullaby tunes of Hindostan and of Persia. Professor O'Curry referring to the Irish words, observes : " The preceding rare and remarkable poem contains more of authentic fairy fact and doctrine than, with some few exceptions, has been ever before published in Ireland. The incident here narrated was believed, at all times, to be of frequent occurrence. It was for the last sixteen hundred years at least, and is still as firmly believed as any fact in the history of this country that the Tuata De Dananns, after their overthrow by the Milesians, went to reside in their hills and ancient forts, or in their dwellings in lakes and rivers that they were in possession of a mortal immortality and that they had the power to carry off from this visible world, men and women in a living state but sometimes under the semblance of death. The APPENDIX. 429 persons taken off were generally beautiful infants, wanted for those in the hills who have no children, fine young women before marriage, often on the day of marriage, for the young men of the hills who had been invisibly feasting on their growing beauties, perhaps from childhood ; young men for the languishing damsels of fairyland ; fresh well-looking nurses for their nurseries. The usual mode of abduction was by throwing the object into a sudden fit or trance, and substituting an old man or woman or sickly child. Seemingly," he continues, "there was no exchange. Sometimes apparent death and actual burial took place, but people divined the invisible action. In other cases, the person was whipt off the brink of a river, lake, or the sea, by a gust of wind and was apparently drowned and lost, but he had only been taken down to some noble mansion and plain, over which the water was but a transparent atmosphere." They could also inflict punishment, and debility of body and mind on objects of their hatred and jealousy ; so, strong men were stricken by the power of fairy women who were unable to take them away. The poem is supposedly sung by a mother who was borne away to nurse a fairy's babe ; she was snatched off her palfrey and now, from within the ramparts of a fairy- fort (or old rath) she sees a woman washing at a stream. To her she appeals, whilst assiduously hushing the fairy-babe to sleep. She relates her story, and reveals how she may be delivered, whilst at the close of every stanza she sings the lullaby more loudly to avert suspicion 430 APPENDIX. from within the fort. Her husband was to bring a black- hafted skian, or knife ; with this he should stab the first horse of the fairy cavalcade (once a second stab undid the deed) when passing out through the gate of the fort, on the morrow. Then the magic veil would fall, and she would become visible. The herbs at the gate, when pulled, prevented re-capture. She implored quick relief, for "fairy captives are redeemable within a year and a day, but after that they are lost for ever." Professor O'Curry gives some striking instances of the intense belief in fairy influences which came under his notice amongst Protestant and Catholic peasants in 1812 and 1818 in Clare. The most remarkable case, however, was that which gave cause for judicial interference in Tipperary, in the year 1895, when a respectable young farmer believed his wife had fallen a victim to the fairies, and kept night- watch by a fairy-fort or rath, duly prepared to deliver her after maltreating the supposed changeling. LULLABY (p. 343). Petrie considers the tune to which these words go as a beautiful nurse-tune of remote antiquity. He adds that the affinity with Eastern melody is not confined to the nurse-tunes of Ireland, but that it is " found in the ancient funeral caoines (dirges), as well as in the ploughman's tunes and other airs of occupation airs simple indeed in construction, but always touching in expression ; and I cannot but consider it as an evidence of the early antiquity APPENDIX. 431 of such melodies in Ireland, and as an ethnological fact of much historical interest, not hitherto attended to." Dr. Joyce wrote in reference to the verses : " These songs so far as I could learn, were many of them very similar in ideas, expression, and general character. The child was very generally soothed to sleep with the promise of a golden cradle, rocked by the wind on a fine sunny day, under the shade of trees, a combination of circum- stances in perfect keeping with the poetical character of the Irish peasantry. The verses were always followed by the burthen ' Sho-heen sho' etc. and when sung by a good voice, the whole melody and song must have had a power- fully soothing effect." l SMITH'S SONG (p. 348). '"The Smith's Song,'" Petrie remarks, "has very evidently been suggested like Handel's 'Harmonious Blacksmith' by the measured time and varied notes of his hammers striking upon the anvil ; and its melody is therefore one of much interest as an ancient example of imitative music." O'Curry considers song and tune to be of great antiquity. He has always heard them sung by women to soothe and pacify a cross or crying child, without intending to put it to sleep; the nurse sang it with a swaying motion, to and fro, and from side to side, or marking the measure by rising on heel and toe alternately. It was also sung as a boy's play, where 1 " Ancient Music of Ireland," p. 46- 432 APPENDIX. each player took the name of a hammer, hand-sledge, and big sledge, whilst one sitting in a chair served as the anvil. The Irish words, given in the preceding pages, are taken from O'Daly's (not O'Curry's) version, and the English words are, in part, a substitution for the imperfect Irish original. SPINNERS' SONGS (pp. 350-353). The Gaels set their work to music. From the number of song-tunes of occupation extant, Petrie says, it seems certain there was no kind of labour to which song was not wedded. Bunting, speaking of Spinners' Song, or Luinnioch, describes it as a peculiar species of chaunt, having a well-marked time, and a frequently recurring chorus, or catchword. It is sung at merry-makings and assemblages of the young women, when they meet at c spinnings " or " quillings," and is accompanied by ex- temporaneous verses of which each singer successively furnishes a line, "the intervention of the chorus, after each line, gives time for the preparation of the succeed- ing one by the next singer." " The airs themselves have all the appearance of antiquity." Professor O'Curry observes that it has been and was, when he wrote, the custom of peasant girls, when engaged in preparing wool or flax, to assemble. Sometimes the daughters of the house, and some helpers, sometimes the girls of two or three neighbouring families formed the group. They sang whilst they worked. Now, each sang in turn a popular song ; again, and more frequently, APPENDIX. 433 two sang alternately extemporaneous verses to peculiar airs, reserved for this kind of song. One girl starts the song by saying she had wandered in the wood ; her com- rade supplies a motive, and with quiet irony suggests a name which she knows will be rejected, whilst she affects to commend its owner. The jest goes on, until a favourite is found, when a benison is pronounced. Then the roles are reversed, and the comrade, beginning, gives an opportunity to the other to compliment and quiz, in her turn, "and thus, the song, the wit, and the fun go on, among the girls, two at a time, until they have all played their parts, to their own great pleasure, as well as to the pleasure or displeasure of the group of young men, who are present generally at night work according as they find themselves accepted or rejected by their laughing tormentors." 1 Such amusements speak of quick wit and intelligence among the peasant-girls who could improvise so readily in their native language. PLOUGHMAN'S RIME (p. 349). Dr. Petrie says : " Amongst the numerous classes of melodies which a people so music-loving as the Irish invented to lighten the labour and beguile the hours devoted to their various occupations, there is perhaps no one of higher interest and certainly no one that I have 1 O'Curry, in Petrie's " Ancient Music of Ireland," p. 84. Dublin: Gill, 1855. FF 434 APPENDIX. listened to with a deeper emotion than that class of simple, wild and solemn strains which the ploughman whistles in the field, to soothe or excite the spirit of the toiling animals he guides. The accompanying songs of the birds are scarcely so pregnant with sentiment, so touching to a sensitive human soul : and it would be difficult, if not impossible, for a mind not closed to the sense of beauty, to hear such strains without feeling a glow of admiration for the character of a people amongst whom, whatever may have been the faults engendered by untoward circumstances, the primaeval susceptibility to the impressions of melody was yet, despite of all de- structive influences, so generally retained, and which susceptibility has preserved to us so many indigenous airs, which in their fitness for the purposes for which they were employed, no mere intellectual art could rival." The " Fead an Oirim," or " Whistle of the Ploughman " should be heard in the quiet twilight glen, in order that its strange sweet pathos may be fully felt. Both Bunting and Petrie agree that such ^airs belong to the most ancient class ; the latter believes them to have come with the race who introduced the plough. That period was remote, as plough-coulters and sochs of stone are mentioned. The air, to which the ploughman's rime is attached, is peculiar in so far that words are sung with it. This and the words were supplied by Professor O'Curry. He states that, even in his own youth, it was customary to plough with four or six horses. Three men were engaged, one, the ploughman, held the handles, another, "the driver," APPENDIX. 435 guided the horses, whilst the " third man," with a forked stick, pressed upon the beam. To the first half of the air they sang " h6b6, h6bobob6 " to encourage the horses ; to the second half the words given. The ploughman led off by addressing the driver, the third man responded at the close ; all merrily repeated the last lines, as a chorus, in unison." " Sirim dom hilluag mo saethir A lenmain alt cen dichill Cin neimnitnecht nacrad Ocus atrab nid richjth." BOOK OF DlMNA, A.D. 620. " Would I might have as wages, For work these pages given, Freedom from critic's scorning And morning peace in heaven." TRANSLATION, 1897. CHISWICK PRESS : CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON. Prcliminarp Cist Mr. FISHER UNWIN'S Announcements for A Preliminary List of ON THE NILE "WITH A CAMERA. By ANTHONY WILKIN. With in Collotype and other Illustrations from Photographs by the Author. Demy 8vo., cloth, 2is. The author had the good fortune to be on the Nile shortly before the commencement of the late campaign, and to obtain a large number of photographs, some of which give a fair idea of the scenery and general aspect of the country. 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A great air of remote- ness and strangeness and mystery hangs about it, but many things IO A Preliminary List of suspiciously like satire give a clue to the nature of the whole. A father is supposed to narrate the history of Brer Mortal to his inquisitive son, who is not old enough to learn all the fortunate things that happened in the Dark Ages. Mr. Mark Zangwill has supplied some striking pictures in accordance with the author's suggestion that " a pure de- votion to his handmaid the humble clicfU may haply avail much." TALES OF AN ENGINEER : Being Fact and Fancies of Railway Life. By KENDAL ROY. With Frontispiece. Crown 8vo., cloth, 2s. 6d. This book is made up of a series of railway sketches, which should prove of intense interest to engineers of all ages throughout England. An added interest to the book is the fact that the writer has had practi- cal experience of what he describes, and in many cases the stories are founded upon fact. The book abounds in pathos and in rare humour, and all readers will allow that the author has been most successful in reproducing the joys and the sorrows of engineering life. Gbilfcren's Stu&s. New Volumes. Long 8vo., cloth, gilt top, with Photogravure Frontis- piece, price 2s. 6d. each. 5. OLD TALES FROM GREECE. By ALICE ZIMMERN. 6. FRANCE. By MARY ROWSELL. 7. THE UNITED STATES. By MINNA SMITH. ZEbe pseufcongm library New Volume. Paper covers, is. 6d. ; cloth, 2s. ANTHONY JASPER. By BEN BOLT. A story dealing with the West Country smugglers at the beginning of the century. A slight love story runs through the tale, in which the chief of the traders a gentleman with a taste for adventure, and a dragoon captain sent down to help in the suppression of the illicit trading, are rivals for a lady's hand. There is given a fair presentation of some of the ways and methods of the free traders of the West Country, who, it will be remembered, were a very hardy ract of men ; Mr. T. Fishet Unwin's Announcements, n and interesting descriptions of the meetings of the smugglers and revenue men, in one of which a great fight occurs, after which the chief of the traders has to flee the country. The scene of the story lies along the stretch of coast between Plymouth Sound and Fowey Whitsand Bay, which at one time was a favourite resort of the smugglers when "running " contraband goods. Xtttle 1RO\>elS, New Volumes. Demy 8vo., printed in bold type, paper covers. 6d. each ; cloth, is. each. A SLIGHT INDISCRETION. By EDWARD CARTWRIGHT. A COMEDY OF THREE. BY NEWTON SANDERS. PASSPORTS. By I. J. ARMSTRONG. A NOBLE HAUL. By W. CLARK RUSSELL. ON THE GOGMAGOGS. By ALICE DUMILLO. QUOTATIONS FOR OCCASIONS. Compiled by KATHERINE B. WOOD. Crown 8vo cloth, 35. 6d. ALPHROESSA ; and Other Poems. By GEORGE HORTON, Author of " Constantine." Fcap 8vo., cloth, 2s. 6d. 12 Mr. T. Fisher Unwin's Announcements. SKETCHES AWHEEL IN FIN DE SIECLE IBERIA. By FANNY BULLOCK WORKMAN and WILLIAM HUNTER WORKMAN, Authors of "Algerian Memories." Thirty Illustrations and Map. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. THE TEMPLE OF FOLLY : A Novel. By PAUL CRESWICK. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. ST. MARK'S INDEBTEDNESS TO ST. MATTHEW. By F. P. BADHAM. Crown 8vo., cloth, 33. 6d. MOTHER, BABY, AND NURSERY : A Manual for Mothers. By GENEVIEVE TUCKER Crown 8vo., cloth, 33. 6d. LONDON : T. FISHER UNWIN, PATERNOSTER SQUARE, E.G. A 000156182 8