THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES '.^' 'f i^-r'-^ 4, ■•';<^^-j^ppj! Just PublisJud, Price js. 6d. net ; per post, %s. ^rdjaeologia l^iljcrnica. HAND-BOOK OF IRISH ANTIQUITIES, J^AGAN AND pHRISTIAN, Especially of such as are of easy access from the Irish IVletropolis. WILLIAM F. WAKEMAN, Fellmv, Royal Society o/ Antiquaries of Irelatiii. WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS. DUBLIN: HODGES, FIGGIS, AND CO., GRAFTON STREET. LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT, AND CO. EAELY NATIVE POETEY OF lEELAND, ■• When a people are pre-exalted in their own feelings, and ennobled in their own esti- mation by the consciousness that they have been illustrious in ages that are gone by— tlint their recollections have come down to them from a remote and heroic ancestry— in a word, that they have a national poetry of their own— we are willing to acknowledge that their pride is reasonable, and they are ennobled in our eyes by the same circumstance which gave them elevation in their own."— Schlegel; Lectures on Literature. " The investigation of the early poetry of every nation . . . carries \\-itU it an object of curiosity and interest. It is a chapter in the history of the childhood of society, and . . . must needs illustrate the history of states. . . . The study, therefore, of lays rescued from the gulf of oblivion must, in every case, possess considerable interest to the general his- torian. . . To the lovers and admirers of poetry as an art, it cannot be uninteresting to bave a glimpse of the national muse in her cradle, or to hear her babbling the earliest attempts at the formation of the tuneful sounds mth which she was to charm posterity.' —Sin W. SoOTT'B Harder ilinstrelsy. CAROLAN, THE IRISH BARD. SPECIMENS OF THE EARLY NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND, Jn JEiiglisb /Iftctiical ^Translations, BY MISS BROOKE, S. (SIR S.) FERGUSON, WM. LEAHY, .7. C. MANOAN, T. FURLONG, J. d'aLTON, H. G. CURRAN, E. WALSH, AND J. ANSTER, LL.D.. ETC. WITH INTRODUCTION AND RUNNING COMMENTARY, ■^istorir, '§iograpbir, nnlt Critical, BY HENEY R. MONTGOMERY, Author of "Memoirs of Sir R. Steele and his Contemporaries," " Thomas Moore; his Life and Writings," " Famous Literary Impostures," " Bickerstaff," Ac, &c. NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION. DUBLIX: HODGES, FIGGIS, AND CO., GRAFTON STREET. LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT, AND CO. 1892. ?R TO HER EXCELLENCY THE MARCHIONESS OF DUFFERIN AND AVA, British Embassy, Paris, IN THE BELIEF THAT ALL THE FULL SHARE WHICH, ON THE BEST AUTHORITY, WE ARE ASSURED SHE CONTRIBUTED TO THE SUCCESS OF HIGH OFFICIAL FUNCTIONS, 0ite-regal anb ^iplomatit, IN ONE OF THE MOST CONTINUOUSLY SUCCESSFUL AND BRILLIANT OFFICIAIj CAREERS ON RECORD, BOTH IN THE WEST AND THE EAST IN ADDITION TO SPECIAL PHILANTHROPIC EFFORTS, WHICH HAVE ENSHRINED HER NAME IN THE HINDOO ZENANAS — HAVE NOT DIMINISHED (WITH ALL THEIR FAULTS) HER INTEREST IN HER OWN LAND AND PEOPLE, TO WHICH ANOTHER LADY DUFFERIN GAVE SUCH TOUCHING EXPRESSION IN HER "emigrant's FAREWELL," — Zbi6 Uolume IS with kind PERMISSION INSCRIBED BY HER LADYSHIP's OBLIGED, obedient SERVANT, H. E. MONTGOMEEY. 927:t.22 PKEFACE TO REVISED AND ENLARGED EDITION. The large original edition of the present volume, published so far back as to exceed the average life of a book, has long been out of print, and is now re-issued in a revised form, with nearly half as much more matter incorporated. If the aim had been to make a great book, the bulk might easily have been increased by giving the pieces in full, instead of only, especially with the longer pieces, the spirit. In the original prefatory notice it is stated — "The object of the present volume is to bring together, in a small compass, some of the choicest gems of native poetry, scattered over the pages of j)eriodicals, and of hea^-y ({uartos and expensive collections — unaccompanied by the originals, which, however valuable in themselves, would possess no interest to the mere English reader. It seems a prominent characteristic of the present day, both in these islands and on the continent, that the popular taste is recurring to the productions of early times, and reviving the spirit of primitive literary ages. Of this, the institu- tion of national Archaeological Societies, both in England X PREFACE. and Ireland, would of itself afford sufficient evidence. Nor is the increased attention which begins to be paid to the history and literature of Ireland, less obvious ; and the idea occurred, that somewhat towards promoting both of these objects might be effected, by placing before the public, in a more accessible and popular form than they have hitherto appeared, a small collection of such frag- ments of Irish poetry as possessed historical interest, and which, with a running commentaiy, might serve to illus- trate the ages to which they respectively belong." In some cases pieces are inserted from the interest of the matter, historically or traditionally, where they may not have had the benefit of the highest poetical merit in their English dress, and others which have had, on similar grounds ; but on the whole it is hoped the present will be found a great improvement on the former edition. In addition to a remark on Scottish patriotism at the conclusion, it was intended to have alluded to the fact that in almost every considerable town throughout the w(»rld where English is spoken, the memory of Burns is annually celebrated ; while Moore, who has left a l)()dy of national song which, in quality and (juantity, is absolutely unparalleled, receives no such recognition, oven in the land whose melodies he has immortalized. Jdnuari/, 1K'J2. CHEONOLOGICAL TABLE OF CONTENTS. Translator's Name. Page CIRCA. Preface .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ix B.C. Introduction^Poetry in general — Claims 500. of Ancient Poetry of Ireland .. .. .. .. 1-10 Historic Notices of the Origin and Pro- gress of the Bards . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Notice of the royal law-giver Ollamh Fodhla (Ollav Foala), and the Palace ofTara .. .. .. .. .. .. ..16 Notice of the Red Branch Knights of Ulster .. .. .. .. .. .. ..18 25. Ancient Historic Tale of Deirdre and the SonsofUsna .. .. .. .. .. ..19 Deirdre's Farewell to Alba . . . . W. Leahy . . . . 20 .. .. S. (Sir S.) Ferguson 21 — Foreboding, Dream, and Warn- ing .. .. .. W. Leahy .. ..22-23 ■ Lavarcum's Forebodings .. Do. .. .. 25 ■ Lament for the Sons of Usna. . Do. .. .. 26 .. S. (Sir S.) Ferguson.. 30 Conloch, a Heroic Poem of Cuchullin .. Miss Brooke .. 33 A.D. Cuchullin's Lament for his Son .. Do. .. .. 40 2. Death .. .. .. .. ..43 40. Reformation of the Bardic Order .. .. .. ..44 J. C. Mangan. .. 45 Conn of the Hundred Battles — Leith Cuin and Leath Modha .. .. .. .. ..52 190. Battle of Cnucha. War Ode to Goll, the Sen of Morna .. .. .. O'Halloran ,. 53 213. Notice of the Monarch Cormac O'Con— Lament for his queen .. .. J. C. I\L\ngan .. 55 Notice of the Ossianic Heroes —Finn MacCumhal and his son Oisin .. .. .. ..5 174.) Testament of Cathaeir Mor, King of 177.* Ireland xu TABLE OF CONTENTS. Translator's Name. A.D. Notice of the Dalraid Colony from Ire- 2oO. land to Argyleshire Scotia one of the ancient names of Ireland The Fenian Heroes — Fergus, not Oisin, their Bard . . Contest between Fion and GoU M'Morni Ode to Gaul (or Goll), the son of Morni JMiss Brooke Notice of the Celtic War Songs -The Battle of Gabhra (Gaura) War Ode of Fergus, to Osgur (or Oscar) son of Oisin .. .. .. Miss Brooke Torna Egeas, the last of the Pagan Bards his Lament for his princely wards. Core and Niall his verses on the Ancient 296. 400. 432. 450. 560. 597. 543. 615. 684. 795. 840. 040. 1014. Royal Cemetery of Croghan Introduction of Christianity— Dubtach (Duvach) M'Lughair, chief bard of the kingdom, becomes a convert.. Hymn on St. Patrick, attributed to Fiech, Bishop of Sletty Rhythmical structure of the Bards — Coelius Sedulius, or Shiel .. Poets of sixth century — Eochy Eigeas, Dalian Forgail, and Seanchan Torpest — Dalian's Odes to Prince of Orgiall . . Abuses of the Bardic influence — Reform- ation of the Order . . Seanchan Torpest— his Lament for t Dalian .. .. .. ..( Noticeof Columba and his Latin poetry \ Notice of Columbanus and his Latin I poetry Early fame of the Academies of Ireland Prince Aldfrid's (of Northumbria) Itine- rary of Ireland Notice of the first Incursions of the Norsemen, or Danes Uonat, Bishop of Fesulx — his Latin verses in eulogy of Ireland . . Cormacan Eigeas, chief bard of Ulster.. Continuation of the Invasions of the Norsemen . . Checked by the reign of Brian Boroihme (Uoru)— note on Sir C. G. DnnTy liatlle of Clontarf, and treacherous death of the aKcd king Lament of M'Liag, his Sccrct.iry and Biographer S. (Sir S.) Ferguson K FATING H. G. CURRAN H. G. CuRRAN J. C. M.\NGAN Dr. S.mith Do. J. C. Mangan Riiv. Dr. Dunkin J. C. Mangan Page 60 61 65 66 67 73 75 81 83 86 88 89 90 94-95 96 97 93 100 lOG 111 112 115 i6. 116 117 118 i/'. Ill) TABLE OF CONTENTS. XIU Translator's Name. Page A.D. M'Liag in Exile remembers Brian .. W. H. Drummond, d.d. 121 Note respecting usurpation of Brian .. .. ..122 1015. MacGilly Caw or Kevv mournfully re- members Brian .. .. .. W. H. DlU'.MMOND, D.D. 126 Notice of the Fenian Poems, with speci- mens .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 129 Poem of the Chase .. .. .. W. H. Dru.mmond, d.d. 130 Poem of Magnus the Great .. .. Miss Brooke .. 140 Macpherson's Ossian and Dr. Drake (note) .. .. .. .. .. .. 151 Fenian Poems continued — Lay of Bhin Bolbin .. .. .. .. Dr. Drummo.-^d .. 155 Dr. Petrie's description of the valley of Glanasmole (note) .. .. .. .. .. .. ib. The Blackbird of the Grove of Carna .. Wm. Leahy .. .. 158 Ode to the Hill of Howth .. .. Dr. Drummond .. 160 Talc, the Son of Trone .. .. Wm. Leahy .. .. 161 Renewal of the Norse Incursions .. .. .. 166 1169-70. Anglo-Norman Invasion (and note) .. .. .. .. 169 1185. Notice of Giraldus Cambrensis, and his eulogy of Irish music . . . . . . . . . . 1 70 Donogh More O'Daly and Carol O'Daly . . . . . . 172 1200. Eileen-a-Roon, by the latter .. H' /^"^/'"^i^, l,' 1-174 75 ' (J. L-. IVIANGAN \ 1265. The Fortification of Ross- Ballad .. Mrs. Maclean (L.E.L.) 177 1372. Carroll O'Daly (the Second) and Echo. . J. D'Alton, M.R.I. A. 187 1350. John O'Dugan— his Kings of Cashell .. M. Kearney .. 189 ISSO.ZThe Chiefs of O'Cahan or O'Kane— Battle of Roe .. .. Anonymous.. 191-93 1400. Darkness of the fifteenth century— Earl of Desmond's Song.. .. .. Ed. Lawson 195-96 1468. Donall O'Mulconry on the Inauguration of Turlogh O'Brien .. .. . . J. C. Mangan 197-98 15 — . Cruel Persecution of the Bards — the poet Spenser's Notice of them — their influ- ence still exemplified in the case of Lord Thomas Fitzgerald (Silken Thomas) .. .. .. 204,206 Bards of sixteenth century .. .. .. .. .. 207 1556. . O'Gnive's Downfall of the Gael . . S. (Sir S.) Ferguson . . 207 Other version of the same, reference to . . J. J. Callinan .. 210 Fitzgerald's Maritime Ode .. .. Miss Brooke .. 211 1600. Bards of early part of seventeenth century — their contention . . . . . . . . . . . . 215 Notice of Hugh Roe O'Donnell . . . . . . .. ib. 1601,3 .Elegy on the Ruins of Donegal Castle by Mulmurry Ward .. .. .. J. C. Mangan .. 219 1610. Owen Roe Ward's Lament for O'Neill of Tyrone, and O'Donnell of Tyrconnell Do. .. 224 XIV TABLE OF CONTENTS. * Translator's Name. Page A.D. Contrast between the policy of Elizabeth and James I. towards these princes .. .. .. .. 230 1630. O'Hussey, last hereditary bard of the Maguire of Fermanagh — his Ode to the Maguire in a perilous expedition .. J. C. Mangan .. 231 Politic.il tone of much of the poetrj' of this period . . . . . . . . . . . . '■iSi 1650. John O'Dugan— the Coolin . . . . S. (Sir S.) Ferguson 235-36 John O'Dwyer of the Glen (a Lament).. T. Furlong .. .. 237 The Roman Vision, historical poem .. H. G. CuRR.\N .. 239 Ode to Thomas O'Connellan, a famous minstrel .. .. .. .. S. (Sir S.) Ferguson 2-18 1690. Edmond O'Ryan, or Emon-a- Knock — his Love Elegy .. .. .. Miss Brooke .. 249 Peculiar aptitude of the Irish language for lyric poetry . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 Anonymous Verses .. .. .. Miss Brooke .. 254 Fergus and M'Nally — Bridget Fergus . . J. D'Alton, m.r.i.a. . . 235 Bacchanalian Poetry. Prevalence of In- temperance probably of recent origin . . . . . . . . 257 Ode to Drunkenness . . . . . . T. Furlong . . . . 258 Bards of early part of the eighteenth century — O'Neachtan, M'Donnell, and O'Carolan— Lament for Marj' D'Este H. G. Curran .. 261 Maggy Lauder . . . . T. Furlong . . 261 Jacobite Poetrj'— John Claragh M'Don- nell 264 The Lady of Albany's Lament for Prince Charles .. .. .. .. E. Walsh .. ..265 1670. O'Carolan (Turlogh), Notice of . . . . 267 Bridget Cruise, his fu-st love, lines to . . . . . . . . T. Furlong . . . . 268 her reply to .. .. Anonymous .. .. 270 Verses in his eulogj', by a brother Bard . . . . . . . . 272 Tradition of the poet Gold- smith being taken as a child to see him .. .. .. ;V'. His (Goldsmith's) anecdote of the origin of his Concerto .. .. .. .. .. I'/r. Mild Mable, his song to . . S. (Sir S. ) Ferguson . . 273 O'More's Fair Daughter, his Ode to .. .. .. T. Furlong .. ..275 Grace Nugent, his song to .. S. (Sir S.) Ferguson.. 278 1733. Monody on the Death of his Wife .. .. .. Miss Brooke .. 279 1738. his last days — Plays his " Farewell to Music ' .. ., .. .. ..280 M'Cabc'sElegy to his memory Miss Brooke .. 281 TABLE OF CONTENTS. Translator's Name. Decline of the Irish I-angiiage subse- quently—Origin (probable) of Bulls . . O'CuUane, a Poet of County Cork after Carolan • his Elegy on the Ruins of Timoleague Abbey . . Concluding Observations Miscellaneous Addenda — The Dirge of Dargo The Woman of Three Cows O'Byrne's Bard to the Clans of Wicklow Molly Astore The Fair-haired Girl Cashel of Munster Nora of the Amber Hair Boatman's Hymn The Fair Hills of Ireland Index S. (Sir S.) Ferguson J. Anster, ll.d. J. C. Mangan S. (Sir S.) Ferguson Do. Do. Do. Do. Do. Do. Do. XV Page 282 ih. 283 288 291 293 29.1 298 299 300 300 301 302 305 SPECIMENS OF THE EAKLY NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAXD. " Lov'd land of the bards and saints, to me There's nought so dear as thy minstrelny ; Bright is nature in every dress, Rich in unborrow'd loveliness ; Winning in every shape she wears, Winning she is in thine own sweet airs ; What to the spirit more cheering can be Than the lay, whose ling'ring notes recal The thoughts of the holy, the fair, the free, Belov'd in life, or deplor'd in their fall ? Fling, fling the forms of art aside, — Dull is the ear that those forms enthral ; Let the simple songs of our sires be tried, They go to the heart, and the heart is all. Give me the full responsive sigh, The glowing cheek and the moisten'd eye ; Let these the minstrel's might attest. And the vain and the idle may share the rest." Thomas Fuelong. Much ingenuity has been needlessly expended in a vain attempt to account for the first rise of profane poetry. A somewhat fantastic hypothesis, adopted by several distin- guished writers, assumes it to have had its origin in the principle of natural religion, or its perversion, and to have B 2 ^•ATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. been addressed by the primeval inhabitants of the Avorld in grateful adoration to the sun, the moon, the stars, and other great natural objects, whose mysterious movements impressed them with awe, and whose beneficence they con- tinv;ally experienced.* Others have attributed the earliest poetic inspiration to the heroic age and spirit, and partial evidence might easUy be found for the most opposite views on the subject, in the actual themes of the early children of song. Thus in Orpheus and Corinus, if we may place any dependence in the existence of such shadowy and un- substantial beings, we have some of the earliest examples (in their attributed remains) both of the heroic and devo- tional species. It is, however, very justly remarked by an elegant writer of the last century, to whose authority we shall have frequent occasion to refer, that ' ' the early ages of every nati(jn arc enveloped in dark clouds, impervious to the rays of historic light. An attempt, therefore, to trace the arts of poetry and music to their source, in this or any other country, must be unsuccessful, for man is both a poet and musician by nature."! * No such theories are necessary with regard to the noblest poetry in existence — that of the Scriptures — which, in the lan- guage of a late eloquent writer, " In lyric flow and fire, in crush- ing force, in majesty which seems still to echo the awful sounds once heard beneath the thunder-clouds of Sinai, is tlic most superb that ever burned within the breast of man." — Sni D. K. Sandfohd's Dissertation on the lUsc und Pro/;rt'.ss of Literature, Fart I. t lIi»torical Memoirs of the Irish Bards, by J. C. Walker. M.R.I. A. — A work in which, though the writer takes the liberty occasionally to dissent from liis authority, every event connected with the bards will be found detailed with a degree of minute- ness, elegance, and learning which will repay by its perusal those who may wish for more minute information than would suit the limits of the i^rcsent volume. ORIGIN OF rOETRY. 3 But from "whatever source the inspiration of the earliest poetry may have been derived, it is a powerful tri])ute to the influence of the gentle art over the springs of the human heart, that the sages of antiquity have made it a vehicle of the earliest historic records, philosophy, and laws. The Greeks, who so gracefully conveyed their moral lessons in the form of fable — the secret of much of their mythology — have even intimated its divine origin as well as its potency as a moral agent, in the otherwise extravagant story of Orpheus and the gift of Apollo. Poetry thus aj)pears, contrary to what we would naturally expect, to have been the elder sister of prose composition. Nor is it less remarkable to find it take j)recedence of those arts which, though less refined, would seem of a more im- perative and pressing nature. Yet such appears to have been frequently, if not always, the case ; nor will this inverse order apj^ear, on a little reflection, altogether unnatural. Poetry and music, which have ever been closely united, arc the gifts of nature ; the useful arts, as they are termed, are the ofispring of time and necessity, arising out of the in- crease of the species. But in the infancy of society the wants of men were few and easy of procurement. Many circumstances, besides, in the modes of life at such periods, have a tendency to call forth the romantic conceptions and wild images of poetry. A certain tincture of superstition, inherent in human nature at all times, was more strongly infused in " Those days of song and dreams, When the shepherds gather'd their llocks of old By the blue Arcadian streams." The roving fancy of these children of nature conjured up imaginary spirits in every grove. Hence the Dryads, 4 NATIVE POETRY OF IKEL^i^"D. Hama-dryads, Satyrs, Fauns, and all the host of pastoral and sylvan deities. "Thus the woods and wilds became peopled with shadowy beings, whose cries were fancied to be heard in the piping winds or in the roar of the foaming cataract."* With this imaginative spirit the primitive tribes of this secluded island were peculiarly and deeply imbued. Poetry and its inseparable companion, music, they cultivated with the most enthusiastic ardour, and brought to singular per- fection. Hence it is, as we are informed by a venerable authority, whose ancestors were the last native sovereigns who swayed the destinies of this island, that in early times " a knowledge of the arts of music and poetry was absolutely necessary. The manners i;f the nation were wholly en- grafted on this stock. The arts in question were deemed of divine original, and made a princii)al part of their public policy, "t "Give me the making of a people's ballads, and I care not who makes their laws," was the well-known remark of Fletcher of Saltoun — a man who had mixed much and va- riously in the world, and who took an active and conspicuous part in the most stirring and eventful period of British histoiy. It was an exaggerated form of expressing a sub- stantial truth. It was in tliis view, far more than with any mcrolj- literary * Historical Mcmoirg of the Irish Bards, quarto edition, p. 18. — Walker ^ivcs the above remark iu reference to the importance attached to the ancient caoinc, or funeral song, the spirits of those whoso requiem was not thus sunj,' Lciug deemed accursed and incapable of rest. t Dinnerlntious on the History of Ireland, by CihviiLES O'CoNOii, lialliiHKiar, Dis. (». ENGLISH AND SCOTS BALLAD POETRY. O aim, that the lays of Homer were first collected and authen- ticated from the recital of their oral depositaries — a task in which the greatest legislators of anti(|uity, Solon, Lycur- gus, and Pisistratus, are all recorded to have been more or less concerned. It was a powerful tribute to the influence of the songs of a country. Fortunately for England and Scotland, they have found able labourers in this field. Bishop Percy thought it no idle expenditure of his learned leisure to collect and elabo- rately improve and illustrate the early minstrelsy of his country — which produced such a marked effect upon its subsequent literature — and was ably followed by Ritson and Ellis. And a greater than Percy — Scott — was induced to play the truant with his legal pursuits, that he might, with his fellow-labourer Leyden, the linguist, accomplish the same good work for his country, by adding the old border ballads to the common stock of Scottish song. Well, indeed, might he exult in the lyric fame of his own "Caledonia, stern and wild" — in her Ramseys, her Fergusons, her im- mortal Burns, and others, whose productions shed such a charm of romance over the humble life and rugged features of that noble land — " Lift her low-rafted cottage to the clouds, Smile o'er her heaths, and from her mouutain tops Beam glory to the nations."* Ireland, with a minstrelsy in her ancient, venerable lan- guage, which, in point of antiquity, not to make any more * Gustavus Vasa, a Tragedy, by Henry Bkooke, father of Miss Brooke noticed later, and author of The Earl of Essex, and other dramas, and of The Fool of Qualitij ; or, Ilistoru of Henrj, Earl of Jiloreliind. 6 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. invidious comparison, that of the sister-countries cannot even approach, can boast of the works of Miss Brooke, Mr. Hardiman, and several more recent publications. * The former of these, especially both as regards the import- ance of the originals, and the high talents displayed in rendering them into verse, notwithstanding the cold poeti- cal mannerism of the period, is indeed a proud monument of the national genius, both as regards the originals and the translations. * The Eeliques of Irish Poetry, contaiuiog the originals, with elegant metrical versions, of Heroic Ballads, War Odes, Elegies, etc., was published by Miss Brooke in 1780, and was the first opportunity, with perhaps one exception, afforded the English reader of judging of the poetical merits of our ancient country- men and their primitive language. The exception referred to is that of Charles Wilson, a young man of considerable poetical talents, who died early in London, and who, in the year 1782, according to Walker, but 1792, according to Mr. Hardiman, had published some poetical translations from the Irish. The writer has not been able to discover a copy of this work, which was never much known, and is not to be found even in our best public libraries, and was only made aware of its existence by a reference to its author in Walker's Bards, Scott's Life of Swift, and by a passage quoted by Mr. Hardiman, whose Irish Minstrelsy, with metrical versions by a variety of poetical contributors, including Furlong, Dr. Drummond, Mr. H. G. Curran, Mr. D'Alton, Ac, was published in 1h;31. This work, with the Jacohite lulics and the Poets and Poetry of Munster, both edited by Mr. J. Daly, the Irish scholar, with metrical versions, in the former by the late Edward Walsh, and in the latter by the late J. C. Maugau, with the Irish Popular Songs, by Edward Walsh, the present work, and Dr. Drummond's Minstrelsy, all published about Ihc middle of the present century, arc all the small contributions that have been made in distinct collections to the invaluable labour of preserving and endeavouring to familiarize to the English reader the treasures of our ancient minstrelsy. CLAIMS OF OUR ANCIENT POETKY. 7 With regard to the future of our ancient literature, in reference to its being made to yield xvp more fully its trea- sures to the English reader, some might be inclined to take a desponding view, from the existing conditions of modem life — its railway speed and feverish excitement — the wonder- ful results of scientific discovery, tending to annOiilate time and space — and the pressure of the increasing demands of material interests in the race of competition in all pursuits. But against the prospect of its being crushed out by these causes, it may be worthy of notice, that it was in the midst of a busy and active community, keenly alive to material interests, and absorbed in industrial pursuits, that the late Mr. (afterward Sir S.) Ferguson became one of a little band of students of the ancient language, literature, and antiqui- ties of his country ; and another of those students, himself practically engaged in industrial pursuits, became the ori- ginator and editor of a provincial archteological journal. Since then there have been professorships of Irish es- tablished in our colleges, including the provincial ones. From these, and from the students they will send out, some fruit may reasonably be expected ; while the names of Dr. Todd, and Petrie, and Ferguson, and O'Donovan, and Reeves, will remain as a bright galaxy, to stimulate and guide and illuminate the way. Many and various are the claims of our ancient poetry. A fanciful legend relates of our great Columba, that when his taper chanced to expire, whilst engaged in writing, a light was emitted from his fingers, by which he was en- abled to pursue his occupation through the darkness of the night. This may afford a not inapt illustration of the illumination which "the light of song" is calculated to shed upon the dark places of a nation's history. And it has this 8 XATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. additional advantage, that it will lix the interest and im- press the memory of many a reader on whom the dry and elaborate details of the historian would fall with little effect. And considered merely with reference to their antiquity, the early ballads and songs of a country must possess great attractions for the curious as well as the historian. If our interest and veneration irresistibly attach themselves, like the ivy, to the mouldering ruins of a former age, and coins, and ornaments, and other relics of the past be highly prized and treasured up, how much higher and more rational is the regard which is justly due to even the smallest intellectual relic of an early age, than to the most elaborate workman- ship of stone or metal. But there is another point of view, by far the most im- portant, in which our ancient poetry is to be considered — that is, as an exponent of the national sentiments, affections, passions, and feelings, or in one word, character. From this source we derive what may be compared to a photo- graphic portraiture of a people, possessing, as it does, an unerring fidelity, and being embalmed in verse. In this view we regard our ancient poetry as deserving of the higliest consideration. It will be found to present a plea for the national character, far more valuable and effective than all the studied vmdications and special pleadings of the historian or the novelist. These songs and l^allads form the fragments of a national autobiography, without the consciousness and deliberation of the self-historian — a cast taken from the life iii the time of excitement and passion, when there was no concealment — an impression deeply stamped, in the plastic moment of intenscst heat. And what are the salient points of this mental portraiture? They are such as would surely l)o higlily lionourablo to AN EXPONENT OF NATIONAL CHARACTER. 9 any people— indicating as they do the highest development of the affections, the glorification of the sentiment of love, an undying devotion to freedom— in opposition to their persistent Danish invaders — a passionate love of nature, and at times a touching and intensely pathetic expression of the long-suppressed wailings of manly grief — sometimes for self, but oftener for country and people — welling up from the deep perennial fountains of sorrow, which had their source in the sad realities of the national story, and all the more affecting from the contrast with the natural joyousness of the national temperament. Many of our ancient poems are also highly valuable as illustrations of the topography and natural scenery of the country, and, if more extensively known, would tend to render many a romantic glen, now little frequented, the picturesque banks of mmy a stream, whose waters now glide by unnoticed by the eye of the traveller, and many a one of the "fair hills of Ireland," no unclassic ground. This it was that Burns* longed to do for his "loved, his native soil," and which Scott, both in prose and verse, has so gloriously accomplished. " When tired at eve, the pilgrim leans Upon some rocky pile, Of days long gone the rude remains, Saved by their rudeness from the Vandal reigns, Which, red and ruthless, swept the plains Of this ill-fated isle, — * " I have no dearer aim," he says, in one of his letters, "than to have it in my power, unplagued by the routine of business (for which. Heaven knows, I am unfit enough), to make leisurely pil- grimages thro' Caledonia ; to sit on the fields of her battles, to wander on the romantic banks of her rivers, and to muse by the stately towers or romantic ruins, once the honoured abodes of her heroes." 10 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. He little thinks the mossy stones Beneath his feet Afford some hero's hallow'd bones Their cold retreat ; Perhaps, e'en there, on Fingal's arm A thousand heroes hung, While Ossian, music of the storm, The battle anthem sung. Or there Emania's palace rose In more than regal pride ; 011am inhaled a nation's woes, Conn's fiery sceptre crush'd his foes. Or noble Osgur died." Phillips. The following beautiful lines, entitled "Songs of our Land," I)y the late Frances Brown, a poetess of whom Ireland may well feel proud, are so peculiarly appropriate to the spirit of these pages, that we cannot resist the tempt- ation of quoting them, in memory of many years of personal intimacy with the writer : — " Songs of our land, ye are with us for ever, The power and splendour of thrones pass away, But yours is the might of some far-flowing river, Through summer's bright roses, or autumn's decay. Ye treasure each voice of the swift-passing ages. And truth which time writeth on leaves or on sand ; Ye bring us the bright thoughts of poets aud sages. And keep them among us, old songs of our land. " Tlie bards may go down to the place of their slumbers, The lyre of the charmer be hush'd in tlic grave, But far in the future, the power of their numbers Shall kindle tlio hearts of our faithful and brave. It will waken an echo in souls deep and lonely. Like voices of reeda by the summer breeze fann'd ; It will call up a spirit for freedom, when only Her breathings arc heard in the songs of our laud. SONGS OF CUE LAXD. II •' For they keep a record of those, the true-hearted, Who fell with the cause they had vow'd to maintain ; They show us bright shadows of glory departed, Of love that grew cold, and the hope that was vain. The page may be lost, and the pen long forsaken, The weeds may grow wild o'er the brave heart and hand, But ye are still left, when all else hath been taken, Like streams in the desert, sweet songs of our land. " Songs of our laud, ye have follow'd the stranger, With power over ocean and desert afar ; Ye have gone with our wanderers through distance and danger^ And gladden'd their path like a home-guiding star. With the breath of our mountains, in summers long vanish'd. And visions that pass'd like a wave from the sand, With hope for their country, and joy for her banish'd, Ye come to us ever, sweet songs of our land. •* The spring-time may come, with the song of her glory, To bid the green heart of the forest rejoice, But the pine of the mountain, though blasted and hoary. And the rock in the desert can send forth a voice. It is thus, in their triumph o'er deep desolations, While ocean waves roll, or the mountains shall stand. Still hearts that are bravest and best of the nations Shall glory and live in the songs of their land." g Q Ameegin* is recorded as the first to whom was assigned ^'^' the dignity of Arch-Druid and Ard-filea, or high priest * The chronology of Irish history prior to Christianity is a dangerous subject to meddle with. Our historical antiquaries have generally placed this event about the year b.c. 1,000. Among these are O'Flaherty, O'Halloran, the elder O'Conor, and Walker. Keating and the Psalter of Cashel. with most of the metrical histories, make it three centuries earlier. But Tigernach, a learned annalist of the eleventh century, and the recent profound researches of Dr. O'Conor, concur in favour of a more moderate chronology, such as has been adopted in the text. 12 XATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. and chief bard of the reahn. The duties of these offices of Amergin were to preside over the interests of philosophy, poetry, religion, history, and law ; and thus was laid the foundation of an emj^ire which has long survived, as if typical of its nature, that regal power with whose origin it was con- temporaneous. The literary order thus instituted continued, in each succeeding age, to increase in imjiortance and in- fluence. To Amergin succeeded Lurjad, the son of Ith, who, as we are told, is called in old writings, "the first poet of Ireland ; " and there " still remain," according to a learned and zealous advocate of our ancient literature, ' ' after a lapse of nearly three thousand years, fragments of these ancient bards. . . . The subject and language of these poems (he adds) afford internal evidence of an an- tiquity transcending that of any literary monument of the modern languages of Eurojie."* Though the originals of these curious ancient relics have been preserved, they have never been given to the public in an English dress ; nor, indeed, do they possess nuich interest, save what they derive from their antiquity and philological value. The ancient Celtic, the original language of a great portion of the west of Europe, consisted, like the ancient Greek, of several dialects. Of these, the Fenian was the most classic, and that adopted 1)y the best writers. It is in this dialect that these fragments are composed. The natural changes of the language, however, in the course of centuries, and its gradual comparative discontinuance as a written medium, * Ir'mh Mimtrelmj, by J. IIardiman, M.K.I.A., vol. i., iip- 4, o. — A work which, notwithstandiug much in its political tone and spirit to be regretted, may justly be regarded as one of the most valuable of the recent accessions to the stock of Irish literature. ANCIENT OBSOLETE RELICS. 13 have left between it and the oral language which has de- scended to our time, or even the later Irish writings, a chasm so wide, that, in a certain sense, it may be said tliese " Bards speak in a language which hath perished." The subject of the first of these antique relics is a descrip- tion of the island by Amergin. The second also purports to have been written by the same bard. Tcj Lugad, the suc- cessor of Amergin, is attributed the third piece, which is written upon the death of his wife Fial, under very singular circumstances.* In the first stanza he sadly exclaims : — " Here sit we on the strand, Fierce is our cold, — There is shivering on my teeth, — A great loss is the loss that has come on me." f Many circumstances have been recorded, which serve to illustrate the high estimation in Avhich the office and functions of the bard were held. Shortly after the institution of the order, a law was passed, requiring that the different classes in the state should be distinguished by a certain number of colours or stripes in their garments. In this practice, which * " The writer himself," says Mr. Hardiman, " is fully con- vinced of the antiquity of these poems, and that they have been composed by the bards whose names they bear. To this conclusion he has arrived, after a scrupulous investigation of the language and contents of our earliest records, aided by whatever external evidence could be found to bear on the subject The language ix so ohsoletc, that it cannot he understood without a gloss; and even the gloss itself is frequently so obscure as to he equally difficult with the text." — Irish Minstrelsy, vol. ii., pp. 348-9. t For the translation of this stanza the editor is indebted to Mr. Curry of the E.I.A. 14 NATIVE POETKY OF IRELAND. apijears to have prevailed among the Celtic nations generally, originated the plaids, uhich have continued to be the national costume of Scotland. On this occasion, the Ollamhs, or chief bards, were allotted within one of the regal number. "Can any nation," adds their historian triumphantly, "be deemed barbarous in which learning shared the next honours to royalty?"* The colours which distinguished the bardic dress were blue, green, black, white, and red. The time occupied by the education of the bards in the Druidic collegesf ""'as no less a period than twelve years. When this term of probation was completed, they were admitted to all the honours of their order. They had estates settled on them, and lived free from all pressing worldly cares in perfect independence. Their persons were con- sidered sacred ; the murder of a bard was esteemed a crime infinitely more heinous than that of any ordinary citizen, and was visited on the descendants of the guilty party through successive generations. In fact, the principle of "divine right " appears to have been more attached to the profession than to the crown itself ; for, while we have recorded the violent deaths of many of our kings, we have few examples of the murder of a bard, though exposed to the vengeance of their enemies by exerting their influence on the field of liattlc. To seize the estates which they held from the crown was deemed an act of sacrilege, which not even the necessi- * Walker's Hist. Mem., p. 5. 1" These institutions, intemled for the rjuict retreat of learning, were sunk in the bosom of deep woods of oak ; ' the garish eye of (lay ' was excluded from them, and their members studied by the light of tapers and lamps. Here the heart-corroding cares of life liad no admission. Here genius was fostered and the soul snh- limcd."— Ibid., p. 0. INSTITUTION OF THE BARDS. 15 ties of the xniblic service could justify, in times uf the greatest emergency. At some unrecorded period, a division took place in the bardic office and duties. The order was ultimately divided into four classes, namely, the Fileas, or chief bards ; the Brehons, whose duties were legislative ; the Seanachies, whose functions were antiquarian, historical, and genealogical (somewhat similar to the present office of king-at-arms) ; and the Orfidigh, or instrumental per- formers. The Brehons assisted in framing, or at least in administering and promulgating, the laws, which, at certain times, seated upon some commanding eminence, they recited aloud for the public benefit, accompanied, as has been con- jectured, by the sound of the harp.* These Brehon laws continued to be strictly observed long after the Anglo- Norman invasion, as recorded by contemporary English writers. The Fileas, or OUamhain-re-dan, were the chief poets of the order. Of these, the provincial kings and chiefs had each one, and their retinue frequently consisted of as many as thirty inferior bards. The Filea ever attended the king or chief, both in public and private, in the capacity of counsellor, and, in his hours of ease, joined his retainers in cheering with his song, or lulling him to rest with a soothing tale. These tales, which were chanted to the sound of the * " The history of the nation, all the placits of their legislators, and all their systems — philosophical, metaphysical, and theo- logical — were conveyed in the harmonious measures of sound and verse The interval between stretching on their couches and the time of rest was employed in attending to soft music, to which were sung the loves of their heroes and the virtues of their heroines." — O'Couor's Disserts, on Hist, of IrcL, third edition, p. 55. 16 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. harj-), were generally eulogiums on the valorous exploits of the king or chief ; in order to detail which, the bard accom- panied him to battle, animated the troops, and raised the mai-tial song. We can conceive no sight more imposing than the bards, on such occasions, " marching at the head of their armies, arrayed in white flowing robes, harps glittering in their hands, and their persons surrounded with instrumental musicians. "While the battle raged, they stood apart, and watched in security (for their persons were sacred) every action of the chief, in order to glean subjects for their lays."* The reign of the great law-giver, OUamh Fodhla (Ollav Foala), the Solon of Ireland, forms an important era as well in the civil as in the bardic annals of the kingdom.! This momirch was an illustrious patron of letters and the arts. To him we must ascribe the institution of those seminaries at Tara, the residence of the supreme monarch, which were celebrated for so many ages. The most notable act of his reign, however, which has rendered it. indeed, one of the great landmai'ks of our pagan annals, Avas the institution of the famous Teamorian Fes, or National Convention, at Tara, which makes such a conspicuous figure in our early chronicles. In this celebrated palace, which has been the theme of poets, the pride of historians, and whose fame has been bequeathed to all future time in the imperishable melodies of Moon.", tlie bards basked in tlie sunshine of royal favour. Indeed, we are told in ;i viiy old MS., • Walker's Ilnrds, quarto edition, p. 10. f The (late assigned to the reign of this monarch by Walker is ii.c. 7(18, wliich nearly agrees with the chronology of O'Flahcrty. According to the moderate scheme of chronology adopted, on the grounds previously staled in this work, it would lie about ii.c. 3r)0 or lOo, this monarch being the twentieth of the Milesian line. BARDS OF PRE-CHRISTIAN' ERA. 17 that " Temur (Tarah) was so called from its celebrity for melody above the palaces of the world : — Tea, or Te, signifying melody, and miir, a wall — Temur, the wall of music." On the same authority, it is added, what, un- fortunately, could be said of few subsequent periods of our history, that at this time "such peace and concord reigned among the people, that no music could delight them more than the sound of each other's voices."* As we approach still more nearly the precincts of the Christian era, we find several bards, some of whose at- tributed remains have descended to our time. The first of these was Royne File, a poet of royal descent, who sung of the wanderings of the Scoti until their settlement in Ireland, of the division of the island among them, with the names of their leaders. Ferciertne was both a bard and herald, which ofiices, indeed, were frequently united. In a still extant poem, which is attributed to this bard, we have a panegyric on the great monarch, Ollamli Fodhla, who is represented as valiant in war, and illustrious in peace, as the founder of the Teamorian Fes, and the Druidic College at Tara. After describing him as reigning gloriously for forty years as Ard-Riogh, or supreme mon- arch, the poet proceeds to give an account of six succeeding sovereigns of the same line, and concludes with the origin of the grand divisions of the island. This bard, accordmg to a romantic story, which is too long for insertion here, " evinced, in the manner of his death, a strength of afiection for his patron, and a sublimity of soul, unparalleled in the history of any nation, "f The productions of these bards, * Hardiman's Irish Minstrelsy, vol. i., p. 6. t Walker's Ilist. Mems., pp. 32, 33. c 18 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. from whatever cause, like the still earlier fragments already mentioned, have unfortunately not yet become accessible to the English reader by translation. It is hoped they may not long remain so. The originals have, however, survived, and been lately published by the zealous advocate of our ancient literature, already so frequently quoted. "These hitherto unpublished fragments," he adds, in reference to those under consideration, and the others previously alluded to, ' ' are considered as decisive evidence of the early cultivation of letters and the poetic art in Ireland The poems themselves are preserved in grave historical treatises, many centuries old. They are found preceded by the names and short notices of the several fileas to whom they are attributed. Tlieir language is obsolete, and their idioms antiquated. Both are evidently of the earliest ages. Certainly they are very different from any compositions of the last thousand years. According, there- fore, to the strictest rules of historic evidence, their antiquity must be allowed."* The age immediately preceding the Cliristian era has been rendered illustrious not less in the annals of Ireland, than in song, as the bright period " When her kings, with banner of green uufurl'd, Led the Eed-Brauch Knights to danger, Ere the emerald gem of the western world Was set in the crown of a stranger." Of all the romances of our ancient countrymen, who were keenly alive to the higli delights of romance and song, tlie ancient historic tale of " Dcirdro, and the lamentable * Irish Mimtrelsy, vol. ii., pp. 353, 355. deirdre's farewell to alba, 19 fate of the three sons of Usna," has ever taken precedence as one of their three famous tragic stories, and has served as the groundwork of the "Darthula" of Macphersun's Ossian. This famous tale relates to the palmy days of Ulster's ancient chivalry. Of this renowned order of knights, whose mansion ad- joined the palace of Emania, the seat of the Ulster kings, near the ancient city of Armagh, * the most distinguished in the days of their greatest splendour, in the reign of Conor MacNessa, were the celebrated Cuchullin, and his kmsman, Conal Cearnach (Kerna), the master of the order, and the three sons of Usna — Naisi, Ainli, and Ardan. When Naisi eloped with Deirdre, whom Conor the king had reared with the view of making her his bride, he fled, accompanied by his brothers, and a small band of faithful followers, into Alba, or Scotland, where he remained until Conor, pro- fessing to have become reconciled, sent for him to return with every assurance of safety. This he the more readily complied with, as he found himself exposed to the machina- tions of the Albanian king, in consequence of the rumour of the extraordinary beauty of Deirdre having reached him. Their departure thence gave occasion to — DEIRDRE'S FAREWELL TO ALBA. VERSIFIED BY WM. LEAHY. Delightful land ! yon eastern clime ! Fair Alba, with its scenes sublime ; — Its charming plains I ne'er would leave But that I come with Naisi brave. * For a notice of this celebrated palace, the erection and destruction of which form remarkable eras of Irish history, see Dr. Stuart's valuable Hit;t. Memoirs of Armagh, p. 578. 20 NATIVE POETllY OF IKELANl). From Dunfy and Dunfin to fly, Mansions belov'cl ! I'll ever sigh ! The fort that rears its tow'ring pile^ Swyno's high walls, and Drayno's isle. O wood of Cona ! in thy bow'rs Did Ainly spend his sweetest hours ; — In Alba's west too short my stay ! For Naisi call'd me soon away. O vale of Lay ! — far now it lies ! Where balmy slumbers clos'd my eyes : Tlie luscious flesh of badger rare, And flsh, and ven'son were my fare. Adieu to Masan's verdant vale ! Where herbage sweet perf um'd tlie gale ; My cares were often lull'd to rest, EnroU'd in Ma-san's grassy vest. With woe my bosom Archay fills ; The valley fair of flow'ry hills ! No youth was there more sprightly seen Than Naisi, of majestic mien. O Ety's vale I retreat divine ! Where first a house uprcar'd was mine ; Amid thy groves, with golden gleam. The sun spreads wide his rising beam. Farewell tn Drayno's sounding shore, O'er crystal sand whose waters roar; These charming scenes I ne'er would leave, But witli my love — my Naisi brave." >•< •In the first of Mr. (afterwards Sir S.) Ferguson's series of pictuiesiiuo talcs, "The Ilibciniau Nights Entcrtaiumcut," in deirdre's farewell to alba. 21 It formed part of the terms of the free conduct granted by Conor to the sons of Usna, that they should by no means detain anywhere to partake of hospitality until they had arrived and been entertained at Eman. At the instance which he has followed closely the more romantic of the two versions of the story of Dierdre, is an elegant and condensed paraphrase of these verses, in which he has given all the spirit of them in a few stanzas which we cannot forego the pleasure of quoting. {Diib. Univ. Mag., Dec, 1834.) Farewell to fair Alba, high house of the sun. Farewell to the mountain, the cliff, and the Dun, Dun Sweeny, adieu ! for my love cannot stay, And tarry I may not when love cries away. Glen Vashan ! Glen Vashan, where roe bucks run free, Where my love used to feast on the red deer with me, Where, rock'd on thy waters while stormy winds blew. My love used to slumber, Glen Vashan, adieu ! Glendaro ! Glendaro ! where birchen boughs weep Honey dew at high noon o'er the nightingale's sleep, Where my love used to lead me to hear the cuckoo 'Mong the high hazel bushes, Glendaro ! adieu ! GlenUrchy! Glen Urchy! where loudly and long My love used to wake up the woods with his song. While the son of the rock,* from the depths of the dell, Laugh'd sweetly in answer, Glenurchy ! farewell. Glen Etive ! Glen Etive ! where dapple roes roam, Where I leave the green sheeling I first call'd a home ; Where, with me and my true love, delighted to dwell, The sun made his mansion — Glen Etive ! farewell. Farewell to Inch Draynoch, adieu to the roar Of blue billows bursting in light on the shore ; Dun Finch I farewell, for my love cannot stay, And tarry I may not when love cries away. "■ The ancient Irish poetical name for echo. 22 NATIVE POETKY OF lEELAXD. of tlie king, however, Barach met them on the waj% and invited them, along with Fergus, who conducted them, to a feast that he had prepared at his mansion, which lay in their route. The sons of Usna declined to tarry, but it appears there was something connected with the strict laws of hospitality, or of his order, which rendered it not consistent with honour for Fergus, who was very indignant at the occurrence, to refuse compliance. He sends, however, his two sons with them in his stead. Deirdre forebodes ill, and thus continues her lament at having departed from Alba :— VERSIFIED BY WM. LEAHY. Deirdre — From east how woeful to depart ! The thought with anguish wrings my heart : Though true the son of Roy may be. To hold his plighted word to thee. O ne'er shall sorrow leave my breast,- No night shall give me sootliing rest : Alas ! brave youths, with grief I say. You rash approach your gloomy day ! Naisi— Nymph, brighter than the sun's bright beam, W]iy tlius severe in woo you seem ? Fergus would ne'er from westward come. Basely to lure us to our doom. Deirdre — Oh ! Usna's sons, of peaceful mien, 'Tis sad to leave fair Alba green ! 'Tis laistiug, never-ending woe From AIba'.s ilowery plains to go ! THE WARNING OF DEIRDRE. 23 Deirdre has afterwards a dream, which she thus relates to Naisi : — THE DREAM OF DEIRDRE. VERSIFIED BY WM. LEAHY. Deirdee — Oh ! hear my visionary tale ! I saw your bodies breathless, pale, Extended, headless, on the ground, And none to offer aid around ! Naisi — Fair woman, of resplendent mien, By thee, but evils, nought is seen ; May from thy ruby lips what flows Of vengeance fall upon our foes. Deirdre — Then said the dame, I'd better know That half mankind were sunk in woe, Than you, renown'd and generous three, With whom I've travell'd land and sea. Deirdre then advises them to go to Dundalgan (Dundalk), the seat of their renowned kinsman, CuchuUin, to be under his safeguard, for fear of the treachery of Conor, until Fergus should return to them from the feast ; but they de- cline to act upon that advice, and thus betray their sus- picions. Deirdre continues her forebodings — THE WARNING OF DEIRDRE. VERSIFIED BY WM. LEAHY. Deirdre — O Naisi ! hither turn thine eye, And view yon cloud upon the sky ! Direct above Emania green A cloud of blood is dreadful seen ! 24 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. The awful sight my soul alarms — A certain sign of pending harms ! The border's of a bloody hue ! So thin that I can see it through ! Oh, Usnach's sons ! of matchless might, Go not to Eman's Avails to-night ; O let my well-judged word prevail ! With rest your weary limbs regale. We'll to Dundalgan turn our course. Where lives the chief of conq'ring force, With day — from south we'll press the plain, With great Cuchullin in our train. o*^ Naisi — Then Naisi said, with angry air. To Deirdre wise and heav'nly fair, Our souls are not depress'd Avith fear — We'll give to the advice no ear. o' Deirdre — Thou famed descent from Rory's line, Ere this, your will Avas ahvays mine ; Naisi, before, ()l)ey'd my Avord — Before Ave Avore of one accord. On the arrival of Naisi and his companions at Emania, they took up their residence at the mansion of the lied Branch, of Avhich they were such distinguished members; and Lavarcum, who had formerly been the companit)n of Deirdre, Avas sent by Conor to report if she still retained her incomparable charms. On Adsiting the fated party, she did not attempt to conceal her fears, but urged them and the Bons of Fergus, witli tears, to be on their guard against treachery, and uttered this lay ; — THE FOREBODINGS OF LAVARCUM. 25 THE FOREBODINGS OF LAVARCUM. VERSIFIED BY WM. LEAHY. Treachery gives the deadly blow To-night, and fills my soul with woe ! For which dire act it is decreed That Eman will in future bleed. The noblest three beneath the sky — Nor braver earth sustain'd — must die ! By one rash woman's heedless thought, Alas ! to quick destruction brought. Naisi, Ainli, Ardan's might, Three youthful chiefs, renown'd in fight ! Their blood to-night in Eman flows. And 'whelms me in a tide of woes ! When Lavarcum returned to Conor, her tender concern for the sons of Usna and Deirdre led her to use deceit, and she reported unfavourably of the charms of Deirdre, repre- senting " the woman of most excellent visage and shape, at her departure from Eman, bereft of her own colour and countenance." Conor, however, was not to be satisfied with this, and sent another messenger, who reported dif- ferently — " that there was not in the world a woman pos- sessed of superior visage and form." " When Conor heard this, he was filled of jealousy and envy, and proclaimed unto the troops to go and assault the mansion in which were the children of Usnach." Upon this, Ulan the Fair, son of Fergus, Avho is described as a "generous youth, who refused not a person on the ridge of the world anything 26 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. he might possess," indignantly remonstrated with Conor, saying — " It is like that it is Fergus' guaranty you mean to break." "By my troth," said Conor, "it will be a subject of regret to the children of Usnach to have mj' betrothed wife." The devoted party then prepared for a desperate resistance, and "made a firm phalanx of their shields, and put the links of their shields around Deirdre between them." But their valour was unavailing, and they were cruelly stricken down, though, the story intimates, not without magical intervention. Deirdro, only, was spared for a more miserable fate. The distraction of her grief is pathetically described ; and after its first bursts, she thus gave expression to the anguish of lier settled sorrow and the praises of the departed heroes : — THE LAMENT OF DEIRDRE. VERSiriED IIY WJI. LEAHY. Now weary rolls, tf) me, each gloomy hour — Now dimly shines, to mo, earth's genial ray — For Usna's noble sons — alas ! no more Appear, to glad the rising beam of day ! Oh ! let sorrow every breast inspire ! With them, how sweet was life ! — and I how l)less\l I The princely ofispring of a rf)yal sire, Who made th' unfriended stranger their free guest. Three brindled lions, whose imperial roar Echo'd aloud frmn Tluina's woody lu'iglit ! J'ut now tlio dreadful sound is Jio.'ird no more. The falcons of the hill havo wing'd their fliLrht ! THE LAMENT OF DEIRDRE. 27 Three youths divme ! — whom Britain's fair admir'd ! Who ne'er up-reared the beamy shiekl in vain — Receding valour shrunk, with fear inspir'd, And trembling heroes fled the crimson plain ! Three mighty leaders, who disdain'd to yield, — Who ne'er to mortal servile homage shew'd, While their strong hand the brazen spear could wield ! For whom, in love, the Ultonian bosom glow'd ! Three lordly bears that rang'd the forest wide, And tore th' opposing oaks with fury down ! — Three rocks unmov'd in battle's furious tide ! Three chiefs, whose greatest riches was renown ! Three that to Caffa's daughter ow'd their source ! — Tears for their treacherous fall shall ever pour ! Three powerful props of Cualnia's martial force ! Three dragons fierce of Monad's lofty tow'r ! Three Avhom the Red Branch honour'd 'bove the rest : They're gone ! — and with them all my joys are fled ! Three, that every bloody fray repress'd ! Three that in Aife's warlike school were bred ! Three, whom tributary realms obey'd ! Three adamantine pillars, that sustain'd The slack'ning arm of war ; who forceful stay'd The rushing foe, — and the dread fight maintain'd ! Three, that in Dunsky's learned halls were train'd, Wliom Otha taught to break th' embattled line ; Whose reach of thouglit each noble art attain'd ! In death's eternal sleep they now recline ! For Naisi's love I fled my royal lord, — I fled Ultonia's treasures, throne, and king ! For three for deeds of fame admir'd — ador'd ! Their lamentable dirge I'll plaintive sing ! 28 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAJS'D. And let no earthly being vainly deem That after Naisi T could here delay ! To follow Ainli — Ardan, chief supreme ! I'll quickly sink beneath the kindred clay ! Three that rush'd impetuous o'er the plain ! — He's gone ! — He's gone ! my Naisi ! — deathless name ! Whose shining blade heap'd high the hills of slain ! O'er his cold corse shall woeful torrents stream ! Oh ! — bending o'er the tomb, here let me stay ! — Resume the spade and make the mansion wide, — And when I weep my gloomy soul away,— Then, generous, place me by my Naisi's side ! With them each danger would I gladly share, And winter's cold and summer's heat endure ; — Now lamentations pierce the wounded air ! No more upon their shields I lie secure ! No more their radiant spears shall be my bed ! Upraise their steely falchions o'er the grave, Yet reeking with the blood of hostile dead ! — Around the field, no more they'll deathful wave ! No more tlie hound, unfetter'd, springs away ; The hawk no more shall guide his deadly aim, And cautious pounce upon the trembling prey ; — They breathe no more, who lov'd the sportive game ! They breathe no more, who gloried in the chase ! Wliom Conall rcar'd,— whom heav'nly Maia bore ; Of miglit tlic fuiy (if the foe to face ; — The thunder of tlie l)attlo rolls no more ! Whene'er I cast around my wand'ring eye, — And the tlireo sliiis of their tlirec hounds I see,^ Forth from my l)leoding heart it draws a sigh ! For tliey, — alas ! — were held in care by mo ! TUE LAilEXT OF DEIRDRE. 29 Naisi ! — my life existed but in thine ! — And ncnv tliy gen'rous, mighty soul is flown ! Why should this body long imprison mine 1 Why does your Deirdre linger thus alone ? For though, full oft, from me did Naisi part, Yet had I then no real cause to mourn ; His bless'd existence fill'd with joy my heart — But now he 's gone, — ah ! — never to return ! Is Naisi, then, in earth's cold bosom laid ? My sight grows dim, — woe stops my sobbing breath ! — Soon, joyful, will I follow his dear shade, — My fainting spirit courts the approach of death ! None — ah ! none I leave to mourn my doom ! — Now fate's impending stroke will not be long ; — Betray'd by me, they sank into the tomb ! There will be none to sing my funeral song ! Ah ! had the unhappy Deirdre been no more ! — Ah ! had she slept within her narrow cell ! — Ere, with false Fergus, she left Alba's shore, Ere Usna's noble offspring treacherous fell ! Oh ! how beguil'd ! how woefully deceiv'd ! To the Red Branch by sweet persuasion brought ! The sacred, seeming, promise was believ'd ! The sons of Usna harbour' d no base thought ! With thee, belov'd and generous chief, to go, I lied Ultonia's beauteous scenes — divine ! — In cheerless gloom and solitary woe, While painful life continues, now I pine ! No radiant beam of joy my soul receives ! No friendly tongue can soothe my flowing grief ! No cold revenge my mighty loss retrieves ! No human aid can give me now relief ! 30 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Oh ! death at length my sinking form invades ! The vital blood my veins no longer warms ; — Now — now I join the three great martyu'd shades ! — Receive me, Naisi, in thy blood-stain'd arms !* The story then relates that ' ' Deirdre flung herself upon the grave of Naisi, and died forthwith, and stones were laid over their monumental heap ; their Ogham name was in- scribed, and their dirge of lamentation was sung." This is noted as the first breach of public faith in the Irish records, and its eflects were very disastrous. Fergus, indignant at the breach of his guaranty and the perfidy of Conor, resorted to the Court of OilioU and Me\da, who then reigned in Con- naught, and had long been at enmity Avith Conor, and suc- ceeded in uniting them in a league with the other provinces against the perfidious king of Ulster. This was the occasion of the seven, or, according to others, ten years' war between the Connacians and the Ultonians, which produced the greatest evils to both, and only terminated in the destruc- tion of Emania. The following is Mr. (Sir S.) Ferguson's beautiful version of Dcirdre's Lament, which is here given at the risk of repetition : — The lions of the hill are gone, And I am left alone — alone ; Dig the grave both wide and deep. For 1 am sick, and fain would sleep. ♦ Dublin Gaelic Soc. Trans. THE LAMENT OF DEIEDRE. 31 The falcons of the wood are flown, And I am left alone — alone ; Dig the grave both deep and wide, And let us slumber side by side. The dragons of the rock are sleeping — Sleep that wakes not for our weeping ; Dig the grave, and make it ready, Lay me by my true love's body. Lay their spears and bucklers bright By the warriors' sides aright ; Many a day the three before me On their linked bucklers bore me. Lay upon the low grave floor, 'Neath each head, the blue claymore ; Many a time the noble three Redden'd these blue blades for me. Lay the collars, as is meet. Of their greyhounds at their feet ; IVIany a time for me have they Brought the tall red deer to bay. In the falcon's jesses throw Hook and arrow, line and bow ; Never again by stream or plain Shall the gentle woodsmen go. Sweet companions, were ye ever Harsh to me, your sister ? — never. Woods, and wilds, and misty valleys, Were with you as good's a palace. Oh ! to hear my true love singing, Sweet as sounds of trumpets ringing ; Like the sway of ocean swelling, RoU'd his deep voice round our dwelling. 32 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Oh ! to hear the echoes pealing Round onr green and fairy shealing, When the three, with soaring chorus, Made the sky-lark silent o'er us. Echo, noAV sleep morn and even — Lark, alone enchant the heaven ; Ardan's lips are scant of breath, Naisi's tongue is cold in death. *o^ Stag, exult on glen and mountain, Salmon, leap from loch to fountain ; Heron, in the free air warm ye, Usnach's sons no more will harm ye. Erin's stay no more ye are. Rulers of the ridge of war ; Never more 'twill be your fate To keep the beam of battle straight. Woe is me ! by fraud and wrong, Traitors false, and tyrants strong, Fell Clan Usnach bought and sold, For Barach's feast and Conor's gold. Woe to Eman, roof and wall ! Woe to Red Branch, hearth and hall ! Tenfold woe and black dishonour To the foul and false Clan Conor. Dig the grave both wide and deep. Sick I am, and fain would slcej) ! Dig the grave, and make it ready. Lay mo })y my true love's body. There is a very interesting poem written on Cuchullin )iy an unknrjwn bard, which, though it cannot with certainty CONLOCII. 33 be traced to his own age, being anonymous, yet, from its midoubted antiquity and its relation to this period, may not improperly be introduced here. From the language and idiom, it has been pronounced by competent judges among the oldest heroic poems in the language. The j)oem is founded on a tale of unfortunate love and female revenge. It appears that Cuchullin, with all his knightly qualities, was not distinguished for his fidelity to the fair. A Scottish lady, named Aifd, daughter of Aird- genny, who had been the victim of his infidelity during one of the knight's visits to her country, determined that his own son, the offspring of her ill-requited attachment, should be the instrument of the vengeance which she vowed against him. Instead, therefore, of sending the youth to Ireland, according to the wish expressed to her by Cuchullin, she had him carefully trained in the military science of the period, and in due time sent him upon the unnatural mission for which she had so long and carefully prepared him. Tlie mansion of the Red-Branch Knights, to which Cuchullin belonged, adjoined the palace of Emania, the seat of the Ulster kings, near Armagh, and thither the young hero, on arriving in Ireland, accordingly directed his steps. CONLOCn. TRANSLATED BY MISS BROOKE. Conloch, haughty, bold, and brave, Rides upon lerne's wave ! Flush'd with loud applauding fame. From Dunscaik's walls he came — Came to visit Erin's coast. Came to prove her mighty host ! 34 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. On his approaching the palace, a herald was despatched by the king (Conor Mac Nessa) to inquire the name and business of the knight, whom he thus courteously ad- dresses : — "Welcome, O youth of the intrepid mien, In glittering armour drest ! Yet thus to see thee come, I ween, Speaks a stray 'd course, illustrious guest !* But now that safe the eastern gale Has given thee to our view. Recount thy travels, give the high detail Of those exploits from whence thy glory grew." The youth, inspired with feelings of the fiercest resent- ment, which his mother had taken care to instil into his mind, haughtily declines either to reveal his name, or pay the customary tribute which was exacted at the drawbridge, as an acknowledgment of the superior prowess of the Ulster knights, while his language and dej^ortment evinced his hostile intentions so une(|ui vocally, as at once to be con- strued into a cliallongo. The result was a recourse to single combat, when Conloch vanquished an incredible number of knights, which, as O'Halloran patriotically observes, '* is all poetic fiction, in order to raise the character of the hero, who then falls the greater victim to the glory of his own * " It is evident that the herald here only aU'ccts to mistake the meaning of Conloch's martial appearance, with a view perhaps to engage liiui to cliauge liis intention ; or probably, through polite- ness to a stranijcr, he would not seem to think him an enemy until he had positively declared himself such." It may here be mentioned that all notes marked with inverted comraas, as above, throughout the volume, are by the translator — those not so marked, by the editor. CONLOCH. 35 father." The king seeing his champions, hitherto deemed invincible, thus overcome by a stripling, despatches a courier for CuchuUin, who had not attended at the court since the perfidious slaughter of his kinsmen, the three sons of Usnoth, by order of the king, but who, finding the honour of his country at stake, nobly merges his private wrongs in the sense of his public duty. It appears that at the sight of CuchuUin, the youth was moved not only with the yearn- ings of natural afiiection towards the father, but with ad- miration at the commanding presence of the hero. The intervening stanzas, detailing the defeat of the knights, the consternation of the monarch, and the arrival of CuchuUin, are omitted, as are several other portions, in order not to swell the piece to too great length, without adding much to the interest. Then, with firm step and dauntless air, CuchuUin went, and thus the foe addrest : "Let me, O valiant knight (he cried). Thy courtesy request ; To me thy purpose and thy name confide. And what thy lineage, and thy land, declare ! Do not my friendly hand refuse, And profFer'd peace decline ; Yet, if thou wilt the doubtful cunibat choose. The combat, then, O fair-hair'd youth be thine I " ' ' Never shall aught so base as fear The hero's bosom sway. Never, to please a curious ear, Will T my fame betray ; No, gallant chief, I will to none My name, my purpose, or my birth, reveal; Nor, even from thee, the combat will I shun, Strong though thine arm appear, and tried thy martial steel. 36 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAXD. " Yet hear me own that, did the vow Of chivalry allow, I would not thy request withstand, But gladly take, in peace, thy proffer'd hand ; So does that face each hostile thought control ! * So does that noble mien possess my soul ! " Reluctant, then, the chiefs commenc'd the fight, TiU glowing honour rous'd their slumbering might ! Dire was the strife each valiant arm maintain'd. And undecided long their fates remain'd ; For, till that hour, no eye had ever view'd A field so fought, a conquest so pursu'd. At length, Cuchullin's kindling soul arose ; Indignant shame recruited fury lends ; With fatal aim, his glittering lance he throws. And low on earth the dying youth extends. Flown with the spear, his rage forsook Tlie hero's generous breast, And, with soft voice and pitying look. He thus his brave, unhappy foe addrest — "Gallant youth ! that wound, I fear. Is past the power of art to heal ! Now, then, thy name and lineage let mc hear, And wlience, and why we see thee here, reveal ! That so thy tomb with honour we may raise, And give to glory's song thy deathless px-aise ! " "Approach ! " the wounded youth replied — " Yet — yet more closely nigh ! On tliis dear earth — by that dear side O let me die ! *" Deeply as, it is evident, Conloch had been prepossessed against Cuchullin, yet nature hero begins to work ; and the sight of the paternal face raises strong emotions in his breast. This is finely introducod by the masterly poet to heighten the distress of the cataHtrophc." COXLOCH. 37 Thy hand — my father ! — hapless chief ! And yon , ye warriors of our isle, draw near, The anguish of my soul to hear, For I must kill a father's heart with grief ! "■ O first of heroes ! hear thy son. Thy Conloch's parting breath ! See Dunscaik's* early care ! See Dundalgan's cherish'd heir ! See, alas ! thy hapless child. By female arts beguil'd, And by a fatal promise won. Falls the sad victim of untimely death ! " " O my lost son ! — relentless fate ! By this curst arm to fall ! — Come, wretched Aife, from thy childless hall, And learn the woes that thy pierc'd soul await I Why wert thou absent in this fatal hour 1 A mother's tender power Might sure have sway'd my Conloch's filial breast ! My son, my hero, then had stood confest. But it is past ! — he dies ! — ah, woe ! Come, Aife — come, and let thy sorrows flow ! Bathe his dear wounds !— support his languid head ! — Wash, with a mother's tears, away the blood a father shed ! " "No more," the dying youth exclaim 'd — " No more on Aife call — Curst be her art ! — the treacherous snare she fram'd Has wrought thy Conloch's fall ! * " Dun-Sgathach {i.e., the fortress of Sgathach), in the Isle of Skye, took its name from the celebrated Albanian heroine, who established an academy there, and taught the use of arms." 38 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Curse on the tongue that arm'd my hand Against a father's breast — That bound mo to obey her dire command, And with a lying tale my soul possest — That made me think my youth no more thy care, And bade me of thy cruel arts beware ! ' ' Curst be the tongue to whose deceit The anguish of my father's heart I owe. While thus to bathe his sacred feet, Through this unhappy side He sees the same rich crimson tide That fills his own heroic bosom flow." "But, ah, Cuchullin ! — dauntless knight ! — Ah, hadst thou better mark'd the fight ! Thy skill in arms might soon have made thee know That I was only half a foe ! Thou wouldst have seen, for glory though I fought, Defence, not blood, I sought. Thou wouldst have seen from that dear breast Nature and love thy Conloch's arm arrest ! Thou wouldst have seen his spear instinctive stray ; And, wlien occasion dar'd its force, Still from that form it fondly turn'd away. And gave to air its course."* No answer the unhappy sire return'd. But wildly, thus, in frantic sorrow mourn'd — "O my lov'd Conlocli, beam of glory's light, O 8ot not yet in night ! ♦ " Here is one of those delicate strokes of nature and sentiment that pass so directly to the heart, and so i^owerfully awaken its feelings ! Sympathy bleeds at every lino of this passage, and the anf^uish of the father and the son are at once transfused into our hearts!" CONLOC'H. 39 Live, live, my son, to aid thy father's sword ! O live, to conquest and to fame restor'd I Companions of the war, my son, we '11 go. Mow down the ranks, and chase the routed foe I Ourselves an host, sweep o'er the prostrate field. And squadrons to my hero's arm shall yield. "Gone ! — art thou gone ? O wretched eyes ! See where my child ! my murder'd Conloch lies ! Lo ! in the dust his shield of conquest laid ! And prostrate now his once victorious blade ! O let me turn from the soul-torturing sight I O wretch ! deserted, and forlorn ! With age's sharpest arrows torn ! — Stript of each tender tie, each fond delight ! " Cruel father ! cruel stroke ! — See the heart of nature broke ! Yes, I have murder'd thee, my lovely child I Red with thy blood this fatal hand I view ! — O from the sight distraction will ensue, And grief will turn with tearless horror wild ! " Reason ! — whither art thou fled ? Art thou, with my Conloch, dead ? Is this lost wretch no more thy care ? Not one kind ray to light my soul ; To free it from the black control Of this deep, deep despair ! " As the lone skiff is toss'd from wave to wave. No pilot's hand to save ! Thus, thus my devious soul is borne ! Wild with my woes, I only live to mourn ! But all m death will shortly end, And sorrow to the grave its victim send ! 40 NATIVE POETKY OF IRELAND. Yes, yes, I feel the near approach of peace, Aiid misery soon will cease ! As the ripe fruit, at shady autumn's call, Shakes to each blast, and trembles to its fall ; I wait the hour that shall afford me rest. And lay, O earth, my sorrows in thy breast." LAMENTATION OF CUCHULLIN OVER THE BODY OF HIS SON CONLOCH. Alas, alas ! for thee, Aife"s hapless son ! And oh, of sires the most undone, My child ! my child ! woe, tenfold woe, to me ! Alas ! that e'er these fatal plains Thy valiant steps rcceiv'd ! And oh, for Cualnia's* wretched chief What now, alas, remains ! What but to gaze upon his grief ! Of his sole son, by his own arm, bereav'd ! Could fate no otJier grief devise ? No other foe provide ? — Oh ! could no other arm but mine suffice Tf» ])ierce my darling's side I — My Conloch ! 'tis denied thy father's woe Even the sad comfort of revenge to know ! To rush upon thy murderer's cruel breast, Scatter his limbs, and rend his haughty crest ! * "Cucluillin was called, by way of prc-cinincnco, the Ilinso ok CcALNiA, that being the uamc of his patrimony, wliicli it still retains in the County of Louth." LAMENTATION OF CUCHULLIN. 41 While his whole tribe in blood should quench my rage, And the dire fever of my soul assuage !* The debt of vengeance then should well be paid, And thousands fall, the victims of thy shade ! Ultonian knights !t ye glory of our age ! Well have ye 'scaped a frantic father's rage ! That not by yon this fatal field was won ! That not by ;/oi' I lose my lovely son ! — Oh, dearly else should all your lives abide The trophies from my Conloch's valour torn ; And your Red Branch, in deeper crimson dy'd. The vengeance of a father's arm should mourn ! O thou lost hope of my declining years ! O cruel winds that drove thee to this coast ! Alas ! could destiny aflbrd No other arm, no other sword, In Leinster of the pointed spears On Munster's plains, or in fierce Cruachan'sJ host, To quench in blood my filial light, And spare my arm the deed, my eyes the sight "i * " What a picture of a heart torn with sorrow is here exhibited, in these wild starlings of passion ! The soul of a hero pressed down with a weight of woe, stung to madness by complicated aggravations of the most poignant grief, and struggling between reason and the impatient frenzy of despair ! How naturally does it rave around for some object whereon to vent the burstings of anguish, and the irritations of a wounded spirit." + " These were the famous heroes of the Eed Branch." Ultonia, the ancient name of Ulster. I Cruachan (Croghan), the regal palace of Connaught. 42 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAXD. Why was it not in Sora's barbarous lands My lovely Conlocli fell ? Or by fierce Pictish chiefs,* -whose ruthless bands Would joy the cruel tale to tell ; Whose souls are train'd all pity to subdue ; Whose savage eyes, unmov'd, that form could view. But what for me — for me is left ! Of more, and dearer far, than life bereft ! Doom'd to yet unheard of woe ! A father doom'd to pierce his darling's side ! And, oh ! with blasted eyes abide To see the last dear drops of filial crimson flow ! Alas ! — my trembling limbs ! — my fainting frame ! Grief, is it thou ? — O conquering grief, I know thee now ! Well do thy sad eflects my woes proclaim ! — Poor Victor ! — see thy trophies where they lie ! — Wash them with tears !— then lay thee down and die ! Alas, I sink I — my failing sight Is gone ! 'tis lost in night ! Clouds and darkness round mo dwell, Horrors more than tongue can toll I * "Tlic period when the Picts first invaded North Briton has not, I believe, been exactly ascertained. We here find that country divided between tlio Picts and the Albanians, and the former inontioned as a bloody and cnid people. It was not until two centuries after this that a third colony from Ireland was es- tablished there under Carby Riada." LAMENTATION OF CTTCHULLIN. 43 Lo, the sad remnant of my slaughter'd race, Like some lone trunk, I wither in my place ! No more the sons of Usnoth to my sight Give manly charms, and to my soul delight ; No more my Conloch shall I hope to see, Nor son nor kinsman now survives for me ! O my lost son, my precious child, adieu. No more these eyes that lovely form shall view ; No more his dark-red spear shall Ainle wield,* No more shall Naoise thunder o'er the field; No more shall Ardan sweep the hostile plains, Lost are they all, and nought but woe remains ! Now, cheerless earth, adieu thy every care — Adieu to all but horror and despair. Cuchullin probably did not long survive his son, his death being recorded in the second year of the Christian era.t The name of Cuchullin has, indeed, been rendered in some degree familiar to English readers by the famous literary imposture of Macpherson, the Scottish writer, in the pro- ductions which, with so much ability, he has dressed up intti a species of rude epic grandeur, under the title of Ossian's Poems. In these, he brings the hero, Cuchullin, and their reputed author together, by a stretch of poetic licence, without any reference to the period of better than two centuries which dull prosaic chronology had interposed between them. The age of Ossian himself, however, will afford a more suitable opportunity for any further remarks on this subject. • "Ainle, Naoise, and Ardan were the three sons of Usnotb." t O'Halloran places the incidents of this poem about the year B.C. 54 ; but as Cuchullin is here represented in the decline of life, it is not a probable supposition that he should have survived his grief fifty or sixty years, and he then at an advanced age. From this period the chronology becomes much more certain, however. 44 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. We now come to the opening of the Christian _. era, about which time flourished the bards, Lugar 40- and Congal, whose remains, like those previously noticed, have not hitherto been translated. Scarcely Hfty years had elapsed from that period, when a storm gathered over the heads of the bards, which threatened destruction to then.- whole order. With that tendency to abuse which clings to all, even the best, human insti- tutions, and in which the possession of great and unde- fined authority by any body of men is almost certain to result, the Brehons came in time so grossly to pervert their judicial influence, that the popular indignation was roused to such a pitch of fury as threatened the expulsion of the whole order from the kingdom. By the timely interfer- ence, however, of Concovar, one of the provincial monarchs, such a reformation was efiected, by limiting their power and reducing their number, from the great magnitude to which it had swelled, to about two hundred, as pacified the popular clamour and prevented so desperate an alternative. One of the most curious relics connected with , „ Irish literature is the Testament of Cathaeir Mor A.D. 171-177. (i.e., the Great), King of Leinster, and afterwards elevated to the supreme monarchy, which he en- joyed three years (174-177). This singular document is preserved in the Book of liiijlils, published by the Celtic Society, with a translation and Notes by Dr. O'Donovan, the eminent Irish scholar. Of its authenticity there can, therefore, be no (juestion, though some doubt may exist as t*3 its having originally been written in the precise form in which it has come down to us. The editor and translator of that work — to whose learning and research Irisli litera- tiii'" i< ilr.ply indebted — expresses his " opinion that it 7(vw THE TESTAMENT OF CATHAEIK MOR. 45 drawn up in its present form some centuries after the death of Cathaeir Mor, when the race of his more illustrious sons had definite territories in Leinster."* In a subsequent note to the document itself, he informs us that "the words of Cathaeir's will are in that peculiar metre called by the Irish ' Rithlearg,' an example of Avhich occurs in the Battle of Magh Rath, &c. "t The following metrical version was made by the late ingenious author of the Anthologia Germanica, &c. THE TESTAMENT OF CATHAEIR MOR. METKICAL VERSION BY JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN. My Sovereign Power, my nobleness, My strength to curse and bless. My royal Privilege of Protection, I leave to the son of my best affection, Ros Failghe, Ros of the Rings, Worthy descendant of Eire's Kings ! To serve as memorials of succession For all who yet shall claim their possession In after ages. Clement and noble and bold Is Ros, my son. Then let him not hoard up silver and gold. But give unto all fair measure of wages. Victorious in battle he ever hath been ; He therefore shall yield the green And glorious plains of Teamhair to none. No, not to his brothers ; Yet these shall he aid When attack'd or betray'd. * Introd. to Book of Eights, p. ssxv. t Book of Rights, p. 193. 46 XATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. This blessing of mine shall outlast the tomb, And live till the day of doom. And a prosperous man above And beyond all others Ros Failghe shall prove ! Then he gave him ten shields and ten rings and ten swords, And ten drmking-horns* — and he spake him these words : "Brightly shall shine the glory, O Ros, of thy sons and heirs. Never shall flourish in story Such heroes as they and theirs ! " Then, laying his royal hand on the head Of his good son, Daike, he bless'd him and said : " My vaxour, my daring, my martial courage. My skill in the field, I leave to Daire, That he be a guiding torch and starry Light and lamp to the hosts of our age. * " As to the golden ornaments, swords, shields, &c., men- tioned in this will, it appears that such articles were in great abundance iu Iroiaud in the early ages, as sufliciently demon- strated by the fact that, in various parts of the country, there have been found in bogs, ramparts, and ancient fortresses, golden crowns worn by ancient kings and queens — torques, or golden collars, golden gorgets and bracelets, crescents, large hollow golden balls, fibulte, breast-pins or brooches, golden-hilled swords, and a variety of other ornaments, the uses of which are unknown at the present day. Sonic of these articles were from half a pound to two pounds weight [of the finest and purest gold], and many of them arc still to be seen in museums and private collections ; but vast (juantities of tliese interesting antiquities have been barbarously sold to (johhmiths and melted down!" — Annah of the Four MagtcrH (Connellan's Trans.), note, p. '220. THE TESTAMENT OF CATHAEIR MOK. 47 A hero to sway, to lead, and command, Shall be every son of his tribes in the land ! Daire, with boldness and power Sit thou on the frontier of Thuath Laighean,* And ravage the lands of Deas Ghavair.f Accept no gifts for protection of thine. And so shall Heaven assuredly bless Thy many daughters with fruitfulness, And none shall stand above thee, For I, thy sire, who love thee With deep and warm affection, 1 prophesy unto thee all success That warlike men may covet or boast Over the great GailianJ host." And he gave him, thereon, as memorials and meeds, Eight bondsmen, eight handmaids, eight cups, and eight steeds. The noble monarch of Eire's men Spake thus to the young Prince of Breasal, then ; ' ' My Sea, with all its wealth of streams, I leave to my sweetly speaking Breasal, To serve and to succour him as a vassal — And the land wh ereon the bright sun beams Around the waves of Amergin's Bay§ As parcell'd out in the ancient day ; By free men, through a long, long time. Shall this thy heritage be enjoy'd — But the chieftainry shall at last be destroy'd Because of a Prince's crime. * " North Leinster." t " South Leinster." I "An ancient designation," according to O'Donovau, "of the Laighnigb, or Leiostermen." § " Originally the estuary of the Blackwater, or Avoumore, in the County of Wicklow, said to derive its name from Aniergiu." 48 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. And though others agciin shall x'egain it, Yet Heaven shall not bless it, But power shall oppress it, And weakness and baseness shall stain it." And he gave him six ships, and six steeds, and six shields, Six mantles, and six coats of steel. And the six royal oxen that wrought in his fields — These gave he to Breasal the Prince for his weal. Then to Ceatach he spake : "My border-lands Thou, Ceatach, shalt take, But, ere long, they shall pass from thy hands. And by thee shall none Be ever begotten, daughter or son ! " To Fearghus Luascan spake he thus : "Thou, Fearghus, also, art one of us, But over-simple in all thy ways, And babblest much of thy childish days. For thee have I nought, but if lands may be bought. Or won hereafter by sword or lance, Of those perchance I may leave thee a part. All simple babbler and boy as thou art ! " Of goods young Fearghus, therefore, had none. And the monarch spake t(i another son : " To my BOYISH Hero, Crimthan the mild. Who lovcth to wander in woods and wild, And snare the songful birds of the field, But shnnncth to look on spear and sliield, 1 have little to give of all that I share. His fame shall fail, his battles bo rare, And of all tho kings tliat shall wear his crown, But one alone sliall win renown !" Anil he gave him six cloaks, and six cups, and sovcn steeds, And six harnosa'd oxen, all fresh from tho meads. THE TESTAMENT OF CATHAEIR MOR. 49 But on Aenghus Nic, a younger child, Begotten in crime and born in woe, The father frown'd, as on one detiled, And with lowering brow he spake him so : "To Nic, my son, that base-born youth. Shall nought be given of land or gold ; He may be great and good and bold, But his birth is an agony all untold. Which gnaweth him like a serpent's tooth. I am no donor To him or his race — His birth was dishonour ; His life is disgrace !"* And to EocHAiDH Timine spake he with pain : "Weak son of mine, thou shalt not gain Waste or water, valley or plain. From thee shall none descend save cravens. Sons of sluggish sires and mothers. Who shall live and die, But give no corpses to the ravens ! Mine ill thought and mine evil eye f On thee beyond thy brothers Shall ever, ever lie ! " And to OilioU Ceadach his words were these : " O OiLioLL, great, in coming years. Shall be thy name among friends and foes As the first of Brn(jliaidlis\ and Hospitallers ! * " Tlie reader may, perhaps, here be reminclecl of the lines in Byron's Paridna, addressed by Hugo to his father, Count Azo : — " ' And with thy very crime, my birth, Thou tauntest me as little worth, A match ignoble for thy throne.' " t Literally, "My weakness, my curse." E 50 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. But neither noble nor warlike Shall show thy renownless dwelling ; Nevertheless Thou shalt dazzle at chess, Therein supremely excelling And shining like somewhat starlike ! " And his chess-board, therefore, and chessmen eke, He gave to Oilioll Ceadach the Meek. Now Fiacha, — youngest son was he, — Stood up by the bed of his father, who said, The while caressing Him tenderly : " My Son ! I have only for thee my blessing, And nought beside — Hadst best abide With thy brothers a time, as thine years are green." Then Fiacha wept, with a sorrowful mien ; So Cathaeir said with cheerful speech : "Abide one month with thy brethren each, And seven years long with Ros Failghe, my son. Do this, and tliy sire, in sincerity, Prophesies unto thee wealth and prosperity, And a renown surpass'd by none." And further he spake, as one inspired : " A chieftain flourishing, fear'd and admired, Sliall Fiacha j)rovo ! The gifted man from the Bearoa's* borders, His brotlier tribes shall obey his orders. Proud Aillinn and Alwain his forts sliall remain ; In Carman, t too, he shall rule and reign ; * " Anglici, the Itivcr Barrow." •(• " The localities here mentioned were principally residences of the ancient kings ot Lcinster. The latter was on the site of the present town of Wexford." THE TESTAMENT OF CATHAEIK JNIOR. 61 The highest renown shall his palaces gain, When the ruins of others bestrew the plain. His power shall broaden and lengthen, And never know damage or loss ; The impregnable N'as he shall strengthen, And govern in Ailve and Airgead Ros. Yes ! O Fiacha, foe of strangers, This shall be thy lot ! And thou shalt pilot Ladhraun* and Liamhan, with steady and even Heart and arm, through perils and dangers ! Overthrown by thy mighty hand Shall the lords of Teamhair lie ; And Taillte's| lair, the first in the land. Thou, son, shalt magnify. And many a country thou yet shalt bring To own thy rule as Cean and King. The blessing I give thee shall rest On thee and thy seed, While time shall endure, Thou grandson of Fiacha the blest ! It is barely thy meed. For thy soul is child-like and pure ! " Here ends this curious testament ; but the narrative addsj: — "He (Fiacha) abode then with his brothers, as Cathaeir had ordered. . . . And he remained seven years with Ros (Failghe) in that manner, and it was from him that lie took arms, and it is from the descendants of Ros that every man of his descendants is bound to receive his first arms. Cathaeir afterwards went to Taillte, and fought the * " This was another foit of the kings oi: Leinster, situated on the sea-coast in the territory of Kinsela and county of Wexford." t" T&iUte {AnfjUce, Teltown), a village between Kells and Xavan, in Meath." j Book of Eighth, p. 203. 52 NATIVE POETRY OF IKELAND. Battle of Taillte, and was killed there by the Fiau of Luaighne Whence Lughair, the complete poet, said : " A world-famed, illustrious, honourable man. The light of his tribe and their law, King Cathaeir, the glory and prop of each clan, Was kill'd by the Fians, in Magh Breagh." It appears that the prophetic anticipation of Cathaeir respecting his son Fiacha was not disappointed, for we are assured that "the branch of this youngest prince of the famUy obtained the government of the province of Leinster, and were kings of that country for many ages."* Conn, the illustrious hero of the Hundred Fights, who succeeded to the supreme monarchy, attempted to set aside the sovereignty of the line of Cathaeir in Leinster ; but Eogan More (commonly called Modha Nuagat) having been disobliged by the monarch lending his aid in opposing his claim to the throne of Munster, strengthened the hands of the Cahirians, and not only restored their supremacy in Leinster, but by a series of the most brilliant successes obliged the monarch to make a division of tlie kingdom with him. This territorial division was marked by a line running from Dublin to fialway, and was long known by the names of Leath Cniu and Lcalh Modha, or Conn's half and Modha's half — or the northern and strnthern divisions. One of tlie most desperately contested conflicts A-IJ- between these rival lieroes was the Battle of Cnucha,t mi which, owing principally to the prowess of GoU, the ♦ Kmlinij (DulYy's ed.), vol. i., p. 254. I O'llalloran makes this battle fouglii a. d. 155 ; but the editors of the I'iiiir Mdxters, with much greater probability, place it uuder the date adopted above. The scene of this battle is supposed to have 1)0011 at Castloknock, near Dublin. See Anmih of Four Mifilrrs (Couuellan's Translation), note, p. 221. WAR ODE TO GOLL. 53 son of Morna, the great leader of the Conacht legions, was decided in favour of Conn. It was on this occasion that Cumlial, the great father of a greater son, Fion MacCumhal, the master of the Leinster knights, who was joined in the confederacy against Conn, fell in single combat with Goll, which was a principal cause of the implacable enmity that so long subsisted between the Glanna Morna and the Finns. There is preserved an ode or rhapsody addressed to Goll on this occasion hy his bard, according to the custom which was prescribed as one of the leading duties of the bards — their attendance upon the king or chief in the hour of battle, to lend the aid of their inspiring art to sustain the ardour of the warrior, and afterwards to record his exploits. Though only a literal version, and with all the transitions of an ex- tempore rhapsody, it may perhaps here be given as a speci- men, tliough by no means the best, of the Eos Catha, or War Songs of our ancient Celtic countrymen. The transla- tion is by O'Halloran, the historian.* WAR ODE TO GOLL, THE SON OF MORNA. Goll, vigorous and warlike, chief of heroes ! Generous and puissant hand : meditator of glorious deeds. Bulwark, dreadful as fire : terrible is thy wrath ! Champion of many battles : royal hero ! Like a lion, rapid to the attack : ruin to the foe. Overwhehuing billow : Goll, frequent in action, * The plan of "notes with a poem'' does uot appear to have been altogether a moclern book-making invention, and these verses were exhumed from a mass of learned comment, in which they were shrouded. Those who wish to peruse the notes may find them in Walker's Armour, Dress, Weapons, &c., of the Ancient Irish, octavo edition. 54 NATIVE POETEY OF IRELAND. Invincible in the most dreadful conflicts. ***** Great in the conflicts : warrior of increasing glory. Hero of mighty deeds. Lion, furious in action ; Animating harmonious bards. Destroyer of councils. Puissant, all-victorious ! Subduer of fierce legions. Ruin to the renown'd. In anger unpetuous. Admired by mighty monarchs. Chief of hea\-y tributes : of all-persuasive eloquence. Bold and intrepid warrior. Unbiass'd legislator. Goll, of martial pride. Strong in body, great in arms. Courteous and polite to the legions. Fierce and powerful in action, Shield of great lustre : flower of unfading beauty : Rapid as the mountain flood is the force of your strong arm. * * * * * Patron of bards ! respite to champions. A tribute on Septs. Ruin of invaders. Prince of sure protection. Subduer of nations. Conspicuous in regal laws. Imposer of heavy tributes. Sea of resounding billows. Lord of liigh cultivations. Companion f)f gallant feats. Mighty are the strokes of tlie illustrious Goll ! Vigilant commander of the legions. Deviser f)f exalted deeds. Fierce, all-victorious. In words graceful and nervous. (ioll, of fierce and mighty blows. Hero of rigid partition. Despoiler of tlir Kniauis. Sword of rajiid and severe execu- tion. REIGN OF CORMAC. 56 Hero of heavy contributions. Constant benefactor of Munster. A swift-flowing stream, fair as the snowy foam. Protector of Connaught. Of unbounded enterprise. Generous hero of the long-flowing hair. Shield to the re- treating. Commander of mighty legions. (Jnrivall'd prowess. Solid and extensive support. Great in the rout of battle. Great is the majesty of my Goll ; his glory is unsullied. My Goll is a bulwark. The spirit of close conflict. Goll, vigorous and warlike, &c. The reign of Cormac Ulfada (Longbeard) the son A. p. of Art the Melancholy, and grandson of Con, the illustrious hero of the Hundred Fights— comprising a period of forty years* — was the most brilliant and well- authenticated era of our pagan annals. This royal sage, who ascended the throne as supreme monarch of Ireland in the first quarter of the third century, was possessed of every princely quality that could give lustre to the crown. The nobility of the man eclipsed the dignity of the monarch. Losing the sight of one of his eyes, he became incapacitated, according to an absurd law, which, however, is found to coincide with the custom of some eastern nations, from holding the reins of government ; he therefore vacated the throne, and like Charles V., in later times, spent the remainder of his life in philosophic retirement. Among many important acts of his reign was the founding of three additional academies at Tara, for the study of jurisprudence, >* Tigernach, one of the most learned, candid, and trustworthy of the annalists, makes it forty-two years, commeucing a.d. 218 ; but the above seems the most reconcilable with general chronology. 56 NATIVE POETKY OF IRELAND. history, and military science. Cormac's own writings, com- bined with his military fame and the splendour of his court, have shed a lustre round his age. The meeting and subsequent marriage of this distin- guished royal sage with Eithne Ollavada, daughter of Dunluing,* and foster-child to Buicioy Brugha, a wealthy Leinster grazier of the most princely hospitality, would form an interesting chapter in the romance of Irish history. This generous herdsman, Buicioy, kept open house, and was visited frequently by the gentiy of the surrounding country, with their retinues, till at last he was almost totally ruined by the shocking rapacity and mgratitude of his guests, who, at their departure, are said to have made no scruple often of carrying ofl' large quantities of his flocks. At length, he resolved, with the small remnant of his substance, to leave the scenes of his former munificence ; and, taking his journey by night, accompanied by his wife and foster-child Eithne, he found a secluded retreat in the midst of an extensive wood in the plains of Meath. Here he erected an humble sheeling and accommodation suitable to his altered fortunes. It chanced that this spot, solitary as it apj)eared, was not far distant from one of the ocwvsional residences of the young jirincc Cormac, who, on a certain occasion, riding out in that direction, was surprised to find there a human habitation, and still more astonished to observe a young and lovely creature, of the most graceful deportment — a flower in this wilderness, apparently " born to blush unseen And waste its sweetness on the desert air." Concealing himself among tlio foliage, ho watched her * See p. 58, note. KEIGN OF CORMAC. 57 movements, tending her little flock, and was charmed with the skill and alacrity with which she delighted to return the care and tenderness of her foster-parents in their adversity. At length, approaching the damsel, who was somewhat startled fi-om her propriety by the unexpected apparition, he addressed her with the utmost courtesy, and entered into conversation on the subject of her pastoral duties. He appeared to take the greatest interest, and evinced the utmost curiosity, in learning from her the most minute particulars of the mysteries of the dairy, and inquired who was the happy person for whom she seemed so cheerfully to perform these simple labours. Having heard the name, he immediately remembered the well-known generous, and once wealthy herdsman. Cormac ultimately made the offer of his hand to the beautiful Eithne, whose discretion seemed to equal her external charms, and restored her worthy foster-parents to a state of ease and affluence. It appears from the following verses, ascribed to Cormac, the authenticity of which is believed to be unquestioned, that this marriage was not happy in its results. He alludes to the fact of his never having evinced any symptom of jealousy, as an aggravation of his desertion by Eithne ; but there is reason to believe that he had not been equally care- ful of not giving her ground for that feeling.* Cormac, in his wisdom and sagacity, and the aphorisms he has left behind him in his writings, resembled Solomon ; and the comparison derives additional aptness from the similarity of their foibles. Whether the flight of Eithne was owing to this circumstance it is impossible to say ; but it appears that while Cormac bore this severe domestic calamity with the spirit of a philosopher, he, nevertheless, felt it as a man. * See Keating (Dub. etl., 1841), i. 298, 58 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. LAMENT OF KING CORMAC. VERSIFIED BY J. CLARENCE MANGAN. I, Cormac MacComi,* The Ai-d-Riaghf of Teamor, Am lost and undone, And my heart is in tremor From morning till e'en I For two who should aid me — My Brelion and Queen — Have deceived and betray 'd me ! She hath given herself up Unto him as her lover ; And the black-beaded cup Of mine anguish flows over ! He is Falvey the Red, She is Eithnc of Leinster : King CathalJ is dead. Or his wrath had unprinced her ! Three causes there be That have wreck'd my ship's anchor Of wedlock for me — Lies, Coldness, and Rancour ! Three things, too, suthce For a wife's highest pleasure — Kind smiles— good advice — And love without measure ! * The poet lias here .sacrilicccl the reason to the rhyme. He was Cormac MacArt, or else O'Con. t " Tlio Chief Monarch." J " Her tallicr," according to Mr. Mangan ; but this must be a mistake. She is called the daughter of Duululng. Sec p. 50. THE OSSIANIC HEROES. My queen had all three. And, ah ! why should she leave me 1 Why scorn me and floe, Wliy betray and deceive me ? Enough ! I and Peace Must eternally sever- But here I will cease My lamentings for ever. I have heard from my bards that the only four crown'd, Of all that have sprung from the race of the Gael, Who never knew jealousy all their lives long, Were Oilioll and Fergus and Conn the Renown'd, And he who now pens this deplorable tale Of disaster and wrong ! 59 '■o The age of Cormac derived additional lustre from the military fame of Fion MacCumhal (the Fingal of Mac- pherson's Ossian), and his son, Oisin or Oshin, and grand- son, Osgur, or Oscar.* * Dr. yhaw, the author of the Gaelic Dictionary, whose love of truth rose superior to a false patriotism — if patriotism it can be called, that would seek an empty triumph of having produced some windy, unmeaning epics, or whatever they may be, at the expense and cost of another country — though at first iucliued to attach some credit to the productions of Mr. Macpherson, yet, after the most careful investigation, the result of which he pub- lished in the year 1781, he was forced to acknowledge the poems of Ossian to be an imposture. "Fion," he says, " is not known in the Highlands by the name of Fingal. He is universally sup- posed to be an Irishman. . . . This is the universal voice of all the Highlanders, excepting those who are possessed of abilities and knowledge to peruse the work of Macpherson, and are taught by nationality to support an idle controversy." — Inquinj into the Authenticitij of the Foems ascribed to Ossian, p. G5. 60 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. The names of Finn and his son Oisin, or Ossian, are intimately connected with the subject of Irish poetry. The first of these celebrated heroes was the son of Cumhal, and lineally descended from the royal family of Leinster. He was commander-in-chief of the famous Fianna Eireann, or Fenian Militia, whose exploits were such a favourite theme with the bards of the middle ages. Finn was instrumental in founding the colony of Scoti, from this country, in Argyleshire, North Britain* (afterwards known as Dalriada), which ultimately changed the name of that country from its ancient titles of Caledonia and Albania to tliat of Scotia, and from which, as the Scottish historians themselves are obliged to acknowledge, was derived the royal line of the Stuarts, f But though Finn bore a high character for proficiency in the various accomplishments of his age, especially poetry • " Cormac (says Walker) at the head of the Fiann, and attended by our hero (Finn), sailed into that part of North Britain which lies opposite to Ireland, where he planted a colony of Scots (the name which the Irish then bore) as an establishment for Carbry Eiada, his cousin-german. This colony, which the Irish monarch fostered with the solicitude of a parent, was often protected from the oppressive power of the Komans by detachments of the Fiann, under the command of Finn, whom one of their writers has digni- fied with the title of ' King of Woody JMorven,' and hence the many traditions concerning him which are still current on the west coast of Scotland." — Jlixt. Mem^. Irish Bards, pp. .^7-8. t Sir Wm.ti:u Scott (/listory of Scotland, \o\. i., cliap. ii.) ac- knowledges that in the Scoto-Irisli chiefs of Argyleshire '' historians must trace tlic original roots of llie royal line ; " and James I., in a speech which he made at Whitehall in H]V^, said that "there was a double reason why ho should be careful of the welfare of tliat people (the Irish)— first as king of England, .... and also as king of Scotland, for the ancient kinns of Scotland were de- scended «f the hinijs of Irchind.'^ — Cox's Ilihcrn. AmjJican. THE OSSIANIC HEROES. 61 and music, in which indeed all the Fenii were required to be skilled, yet it appears he was outshone in those arts, if not in all others, by his son Oisin, whose name has de- scended with the united wreaths of the hero and the bard. Though no well authenticated specimens of the remains of Oisin have survived the devastations of time and of civil war, yet his name, coupled with the productions of a variety of anonymous bards of the middle ages, known by the name of the Fenian poems, in which he is made, with great art, the narrator of tlT>e exploits of his Fenian compeers, have served as the groundwork of one of the most singular literary impostures of modern times. As the historical affinities existing between Scotland and Ireland in early times, joined to the original similarity of their language, and the profound ignorance of the history of the latter country which generally prevailed, can alone account for the remarkable fact of these poetic fragments, and the traditions concerning Oisin and the Fenian heroes, having, by means of oral recitations, become naturalized in the Highlands of Scotland, a few explanatory remarks are here requisite to set the matter in its true light. It has already been stated, that in the course of the age now under consideration, an Irish colony was led into Argyleshire by Carbry Riada (the kinsman of King Cormac), from whom the settlement took the name Dalriada. This historical connection between Scotland and Ireland, though for a long period overlooked, is distinctly recognised by Bede, the early English historian. Previous to this event the name of Scotia belonged exclusively to Ireland, Scotland bemg then only known as Caledonia and Albania. In course of time, however, as the Scotic colony extended its boundaries, it came to be designated Scotia 3Ilnov, wliile 62 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Ireland, by way of distinction, was called Scotia Major. This distinction was so well known on the Continent in the middle ages, that we frequently find the distinguishing appellations of " Scots of Albany," and " Hibernian Scots," applied to the natives of each in the seventh, eighth, and ninth centuries, and it was not until about the tenth century that Ireland ceased to participate in the name.* That Ireland was the ancient Scotia would be a mattfer of small consequence to show, were it not that the possession of this title in common, and the connection subsisting for so long a period with the Highlands of Scotland, have served as a pretext for a most extensive system of literary depreda- tion, and of this country being rifled of many of its early ornaments. The Dalriadian colonists carried with them their own historical traditions, and as the intercourse be- tween the countries continued for many centuries, the later romances and poems were conveyed thither by wandering bards from time to time, and handed down in a mutilated and corrupted form by oral recitations. Thus the colonists came in time to adopt what was originally the property of the mother country. Hence, they have borrowed many * 4th century. — " Scotorum cumulos flevit glacialis lerne." — Claudian. " Ilibernia a Scotorum f,'entibus colitur." — Ethicus Cosmo(j. " Ha;o insula proi)rior Britannia-, &c., colitur a Scoth." — Paul. Orosms. 7th century. — "Gens Scotorum incolit Hiber- niam." — liede, Vita St. Columb. " Ilibci-nia dives lactis et mollis insula, nee vincarura cxpers, &c. IIh'c pioi)iic patria Scotorum est." — Ibid., Ilist. Gent. Anglicaiuc. 17th contury. — " Scott omnes Tlibcrui.i' habitatorcs initio vocabantur." — Buchanan, Hist, rerum Sciiticnrum. Whoever wishes for more ample information may find it in the last edition of Sir James Ware's Antiquities of Ireland. — Hamilton's Letters on North Coast of Antrim, pp. 01-2. IRISH COLONY IN ARGYLESIIIRE. 63 names from the Irish regal list, many saints from her calendar, and to complete this extensive system of plagiar- ism, the productions of some nameless Irish bards of the middle ages,* in connection with the name of Oisin, were in the last century made the groundwork of an imposture, so plausibly fabricated, that it went forth to Europe on the wings of fame, and obtained for Scotland the unfounded claim of having produced the earliest epics perhaps in exist- ence, with the exception of those of Homer and Virgil — a claim which by many is not even yet disallowed. f This daring and ingenious attempt of Mr. Macpherson to impose upon public credulity, was favoured by the ignorance which generally prevailed of this twilight period of Irish his- tory ; and by corrupting, falsifying, and clothing in an inflated and mock-heroic diction, which with many might pass for a species of barbaric sublimity suitable to the age of the bard, those oral versions of the Fenian poems and romances Avhich had found their way to the Highlands of Scotland, he has certainly made his epics almost sufficiently different from the originals to warrant the claim of Scotland (though not of Oisin) to their authorship. The argument founded on the impossibility of their having been orally * " There are numberless Irish poems still extant," says Miss Brooke, " attributed to Oisin, and either addressed to St. Patrick, or composed in the form of a dialogue between the saint and the poet. In all of them, the antiquary finds traces of a later period than that in which Oisin flourished ; and most of them are sup- posed to be the compositions of the eighth, ninth, and tenth centuries."— ivt'Z/^ift's of Irish Poetnj, quarto edition, p. 73. Specimens of these Fenian poems will be found in another part of this volume. + See the commencement of Lamartine's Pilgrimage to the Holy Land, where he speaks of Ossian with undoubting faith. 64 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. transmitted through so many ages, is not quite conclusive,* when we consider that the epics of Homer were similarly preserved (though certainly among a more refined people) for about five hundred years, untU collected by Pisistratus ; but the glaring defiance of chronology and geography by which these pretended translations are so strongly marked, the total absence of genuine simplicity, the introduction of manners and customs incompatible with their reputed age, and numerous other grounds of internal evidence, are fatal to the idea of their authenticity as the works of the bard to whom they are assigned. On the other hand, the very names of the heroes, CuchuUin, Fingal, Osgar, McMorne, &c., and many of the localities being undoubtedly Irisli, are significant evidences of their genuine source, of which the so-called translator was unable wholly to divest them, without sapping the very foundation on which the whole structure of his imposture was to be reared. It is worthy of remark, that the very chronological errors of Mr. Macpherson afford an argument no less against the authen- ticity of these productions as the writings of Ossian, than in favour of their being derived in substance, though not in form, from the Fenian tales and poems. These Fenian * Hume applies the same argument to them as he has used against the evidence of miracles. " It is indeed strange that any man of sense could have imagined it possible that above twenty thousand verses, along with niiniborless historical facts, could have been preserved by oral tradition during lifty generations, by the rudest, perhaps, of all the European nations, the most necessitous, the most turbulent, and the most unsettled. ]l'lu'rc a su2)i)ositiou is «o contrary to common-nense, any jjositivc evidence of it oiiylit ever to he difrcfiarded." — Gorresj). with Gibbon. It would certainly have been as well to intjuirc if there were any positive evidence before resorting to such a general and doubtful proposition. THE FENIAN POEMS. 65 writings, which, it has been already stated, are supposed to have originated with a number of Irish bards in the course of the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries, bear on the very- face of them the same chronological inaccuracy, many of them being in the form of a dialogue between Oisin, who flourished about the middle of the third, and St. Patrick, whose mission did not commence till nearly the same period of the fifth, century. The bards who composed these poems were doubtless aware of the anachronism of which they were guilty, and merely adopted it as an artifice to add to the reality and heighten the dramatic effect of their poetical descrijitions, by making their favourite hero, Oisin, the narrator of the exploits of his companions in arms, thus giving to their tales a living and personal interest, which makes it difficult, in reading them, not to be sometimes per- suaded that they were written by one who had witnessed what he describes. Such a coincidence in error on the part of Mr. Macpherson, could scarcely have been accidental. To enter here into the long-contested discussion as to the genuineness of the poems of Ossian, further than appeared necessary to elucidate the subject, would indeed be a work of supererogation, after Hume, Gibbon, O'Conor, Young, Drummond, O'Reilly, and others, have successively and successfully lent their talents to destroy the imposing but unsubstantial fabric. To return to our narrative. Though Oisin, according to tradition, was not unskilled "Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme," yet he was probably more enamoured of the sword, and, consequently, the dignity of chief bard to the Fenii fell to his brother Fergus, called Fionbell, or the sweet-voiced — "a bard on whom successive poets have bestowed as many F G6 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. epithets as Homer has given to his Jupiter So persuasive was his eloquence, that, united with his rank, it acquired an almost universal ascendancy."* Of this extraordinary power possessed by Fergus — as well in virtue of his office as of his personal character — there is a notable example on record, evincing that, if the bardic in- fluence was frequently exerted in fanning the flames of war, it was also employed in evoking the halcyon of peace. It appears that the unanimity of the Fenian militia, when not cemented by opposing the common enemies of their country, was sometimes disturbed by the heart-burnings of the rival septs of Morni and Boishne, of which GoU (or Gaul) and Finn were the respective leaders. Of this contention for precedence the cause has never been distinctly assigned. On one occasion, near the palace of Finn, at Almhaim (Allwin), when it rather appears that the chief was in fault, it assumed such a serious aspect, and threatened such consequences, that the bards required to use their utmost authority to soothe the chafed si)irits of tlie chiefs, and pour oil upon the troubled waters. "To e2"oct this, they shook the chain of silence,^ and flung themselves amung the ranks, extolling the * " Several admirable poems, attributed to Fergus," continues Mr. Walker, "are still extant Dahoo, a poem written on a foreign prince of that name, invading Ireland. Dargo en- countered the Fenii, and was slain by Goll, the son of Morni; and Cath Gaiiura (the battle of Gabhra). . . . Besides these, there is a Panefij/ric on GoU, the son of Morni, and another on Osgur. . . . The diction of these panegyrics is pure, nervous, and persuasive, and to each the name of Fergus, the poet, the son of Fin, is prefixed."— J/i««. Mam. Irish Bards, pp. 43, 44. t The reader will recollect Moore's beautiful allusion to this custom : — " Dear harp of my country I in darkness I found thee, The cold chain of sUencc had hung o'er thee long, When proudly, my own island harp, I unbound thee, And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song." ODE TO GAUL. C7 sweets of peace, and tlie achievements of the combatants' ancestors. Immediately both jjarties, laying down their arms, listened with attention to the harmonious lays of their bards, and in the end rewarded them with precious gifts."* The ode from which the following passages are taken, is supposed by the translator — and, indeed, the internal evi- dence is such as to admit little doubt of the fact — to be the one which Fergus ' ' composed, or rather recited extempore, on the occasion " t of this memorable contest : — ODE TO GAUL, THE SON OF MORNI. TRANSLATED BY MLSS BROOKE. High-minded Gaul, whose daring soul Stoops not to our chief'sj control ! Champion of the navy's pride ! Mighty ruler of the tide ! Rider of the stormy wave. Hostile nations to enslave ! § * Walker's Hist. Mems., p. -l-t. f Eeliqites of Irish Poetry, 4to ed., p. 1G3. I "Finn Mac Cumhal, then general of the Irish militia." § " Besides their standing armies, we find the Irish kept up a considerable naval force, whereby, from time to time, they poured troops into Britain and Gaul, which countries they long kept under contribution. To this, however, many objections have been made, whilst, at the same period of time, no ob- jections have been made to the accounts of the Phoenicians, the Tyrians, and, after them, the Greeks, having very considerable fleets, and making very distant settlements." — 0'H.vlloran's Introd. to Hist, and Antiq. of Ireland. 08 NATIVE POETKY OF IRELAND. Shield of freedom's glorious boast ! Head of her unconquer'd host ! Ardent son of Morni's might ! Terror of the fields of fight I Long renown'd and dreadful name ! Hero of auspicious fame ! Champion in our cause to arm I Tongue, with eloquence to charm ! With depth of sense, and reach of manly thought ; With every grace and every beauty fraught ! Gilt with heroic might, Wlien glory, and tliy country, call to arms, Thou go'st to mingle in the loud alarms, And lead the rage of fight ! Tliine, hero ! — thine the princely sway Of each conflicting hour ; Thine ev'ry bright endowment to display, The smile of beauty, and the arm of pow'r ! Science, beneath our hero's shade, Exults, in all her patron's gifts array'd : Her chief, the soul of every fighting field ! The arm, tlie heart, alike unknown to yield ! Hear, O Finn ! thy people's voice ! Trembling on our hills,* wo plead — O let our fears to peace incline tliy choice ! Divide tlio spoil, f and give the hero's meed! ♦ "This alludes to a custom which prevailed among the early Irish of holding; all their public meetings, and frequently their feasts, on the tops of lofty cniiiicnccs." t " I'ossibly, it might have been about the division of the booty gained in some Thitish or, perhaps, continental expedition, that the tribes of Morui anil^ ISoishue were at variance ; at least, it appears, by this passage, that a part of their discontents arose from some such occasion." ODE TO GAUL. 69 For bright and various is his wide renown, And war and science weave his glorious crown ! Did all tlie hosts of all the earth unite, From pole to pole, from wave to wave. Exulting in their might : His is that monarchy of soul To fit him for the wide control, The empire of the brave ! Friend of learning ! mighty name ! Havoc of hosts, and pride of fame ! Fierce as the foaming strength of ocean's rage. When nature's powers in strife engage. So does his dreadful progress roll. And such the force that lifts his soul ! * Finn of the flowing locks, * O hear my voice ! No more with Gaul contend ! Be peace, henceforth , thy happy choice, And gain a valiant friend ! S ecure of victory, to the iield His conquering standard goes ; 'Tis his the powers of fight to wield, And woe awaits his foes. * " The natural and beautiful ornament of hair was much cherished and esteemed amongst the ancient Irish The epithets ' flowing, curling, waving locks,' perpetually occur, and are apparently esteemed as essential to the beauty of the warrior as to that of the fair." 70 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Not to mean, insidious art* Does the great name of Gaul its terrors owe But from a brave, undaunted heart His glories flow ! * Finn of the dark-brown hair ! O hear my voice ! No more with Gaul contend ! Be peace sincere henceforth thy choice, And gain a valiant friend ! In peace, thoiigh inexhausted from his breast Each gentle virtue flows : In war, no force his fury can arrest, And hopeless are his foes. Spirit resolute to dare ! Aspect sweet beyond compare. Bright with inspiring soul ! with blooming beauty fau' ! Warrior of majestic charms ! High in fame and great in arms ! Well thy daring soul may tow'r — Nothing is above thy pow'r ! • * " Indeed, for a spirit of honour and a natural rectitude of mind, the Irish were remarked even by the writers of a nation uiicc their bitter enemies. Their love of justice and attachment to the laws was thus acknowledged in the days of Henry VIII. : ' The laws and statutes made by the Irish on their hills (called Brchou laws), they keep lirni and stable, without breaking them for any favour or reward.' — Bauon Finglas' Dreviate of Ireland. Sir .Tolin Davics, too (attorney-genrral in the reign of James I.), ackiiiiwledgcs that 'there is no nation undtr the sun that love equal and indifferent justice better than the Irish.'— Davies' Hint, of Ireland" ODE TO GAXJL, 71 Hear, O Finn ! my ardent zeal, While his glories I reveal ! Fierce as ocean's angry wave,* When conflicting tem2)ests rave ; As still, with the increasing storm. Increasing ruin clothes its dreadful form ; Such is the chief, o'erwhelming in his force, Unconquer'd in his swift, resistless course ! Tho' in the smiles of blooming grace array'd, And bright in beauty's every charm ; Yet think not, therefore, that his soul will bend, Nor with the chief contend ; For well he knows to wield the glittering blade, And fatal is his arm ! Bounty in his bosom dwells — High his soul of courage swells ! Fierce the dreadful war to wage, Mix in the whirl of fight, and guide the battle's rage ! Wide, wide around triumphant ruin wield, Roar through the ranks of death, and thunder o'er the field Many a chief of mighty sway Fights beneath his high command ; Marshals his troops in bright array, And spreads his banners o'er the land. Champion of unerring aim ! Chosen of kings, triumphant name ! Bounty's hand, and wisdom's head, Valiant arm, and lion soul, O'er red heaps of slaughter'd dead. Thundering on to glory's goal ! * "Here we find a repetition of the same image that occurs a few stanzas before But an extemporaneous composition like this ought to be exempt from the severity of criticism which may, with justice, be exercised on the productions of study and the labours of time." 72 NATIVE POETKY OF IRELAND. Pride of Finian fame, and arms ! Mildness* of majestic charms ! Swiftness of the battle's rage ! Theme of the heroic page 1 Firm in purpose, fierce in fight ! Arm of slaughter, soul of might ! Glory's light ! illustrious name ! Splendour of the paths of fame ! Born bright precedent to yield, And sweep with death the hostile field ! Leader of sylvan sports ; the hound, the horn, The early melodies of morn I — Love of the fair, and favourite of the muse If In peace, each peaceful science to difi'use : Prince of the noble deeds ! accomplish'd name ! Increasing beauty, comprehensive fame ! Hear, Gaul, the poet's voice ! 0, be peace thy gen'rous choice ! Yield thee to the bard's desire ! Calm the terrors of thine ire ! Cease thee here our mutual strife, And peaceful be our future life ! * " The knowledge of arms was but a part of the education of the Celtic warrior. In Ireland, they were well informed in history, poetry, and the polite arts ; they were sworn to be the protectors of the fair, and avengers of their wrongs ; and to be pulile in word and address, eccn to their greatest enemies." — O'HArir.oRAN. t "Irish liistory informs us that those of their monarchs, or chiefs, who, besides the accustomed jiatronagc of science and song, were themselves ijosscsscd of tlie gifts of tlie muse, obtained, on that account, a distinguished portion of honoin-, rcsijcct, and celebrity." ODE TO GAUL. 73 Gaul — I yield, O Fergus, to thy mild desire ; Thy words, O bard ! are sweet ; Thy wish I freely meet, And bid my wrath expire. No more to discontent a prey, 1 give to peace the future day : To thee my soul I bend, O guileless friend !* The accents of whose glowing lips well know that soul to sway. Bard — O swift in honour's course ! thou generous name ! Illustrious chief, of never-dying fame ! A.D. 2'J(). Another ode by Fergus, which has survived the wreck of time, aflfords a fine specimen of the War Songs of our ancient Celtic countrymen. The language and idiom of these odes are considered, by the accomplislied translator, as conclusive evidence of their antiquity. "The military odes of the ancient Celtte," remarks that lady, " have been noticed by numberless historians One of the duties of the bard was to attend his chief to battle, and there exert his poetic powers, according to the fluctuations of victory, and the fortunes of the fight. This fact is well attested by ancient Greek and Roman writers, and historians afiirm that this custom continued amongst the Gauls many centuries after their dereliction by the Romans. Even at the Battle of * " A character without (juile or deceit was esteemed the highest that could be given amongst the ancient Irish ; and the favourite panegyric of a bard, to liia I'avourite hero, woukl be, that he had a heart incapable of (juile." 74 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Hastings the troops of Normandy were accompanied by a bard, animating them to conquest with warlike odes."* The following interesting ode was addressed by Fergus to Osgur, the son of Oisin, and nephew of the bard, on occasion of the fatal Battle of Gabhra (Gaura), one of the most tragic civil strifes which our early history records, and which formed one of the most favourite themes of the bards and romances of the middle ages.t The immediate cause of this battle is involved in much uncertainty. It appears that Cairbre, the supreme monarch of Ireland, had long been jealous of the formidable power, and consequent overweening arrogance, of the Fenian militia ; and, taking adv-antage of the absence of their renowned commander, who, J with a large detach- ment, was aiding the British in resisting the encroachments of their Roman invaders, united with some of the provincial monarchs in crushincj this celebrated legion. On this occa- sion, Osgur, the son of Oisin, commanded, and achieved incredible but fruitless feats of heroism witli his little band. Urged on by the inspiriting harangues of the bard, wliich mingled with the storm of battle, he singled out the monarch Cairbre, who fell beneath his arm. It was impossiljle, how- ever, to resist the force of numbers, and Osgur himself at length sunk exhausted upon the field. The enemy, then, redoubling their efforts, rushed on like an overwhelming flood, bore down the Fenii, who opposed a feeble bulwark to * lidiqnes of Irish Poetri/, -Ito ccl., p. 1H7. t The various poems on this battle are asserted to have formed the ground-work of Mr. Macpherson'a " Tcmora."— See O'Reini/s J Walker represents Finn as having fallen (A.n. '2[)i) two years previous to the battle of Gabhra, in an engagement at IJathbrea. From this the poetical accounts, which arc here followed, differ. WAR ODE TO OSGtJR. 75 the undulation of its waves, and swept over the ranks with. resistless fury.* WAR ODE TO OSGUR, THE SON OF OISIN, At the Battle of Gaura, TRANSLATED BY MISS BROOKE. Rise, might of Erin ! rise If O ! Osgur of the generous soul ! Now on the foe's astonish'd eyes Let thy proud ensigns wave dismay ! Now let the thunder of thy battle roll, And bear the -paim of strength and victory away. * " The Ann.uls of Innisfailen, and other ancient records and poems," says Miss Brooke, "inform us that the Battle of Gabhra was fought in the year a.d. 296. ... It would be tedious to relate the various causes assigned, by different writers, for the discon- tents which occasioned this battle. Historians, in general, lay the chief blame upon the Fenii ; and the poets, taking part with their favourite heroes, cast the odium upon Cairbre, monarch of Ireland. The fault, most likely, was mutual, and both parties severely suffered for it. Cairbre himself was killed in the action, and a dreadful slaughter ensued among his troops ; but those of the Fenii were almost totally destroyed ; for, relying upon the valour which they proudly deemed invincible, they rushed into the field against odds which madness alone would have en- counteved."—Keliques of Irish Poetry, pp. 14(3, 147. t "Literally, arise. It means here — rouse thyself — exert all thy powers. " 76 NATIVE POETKY OF IRELAND. Son of the sire whose stroke is fate, Be thou in might supreme ; Let conquest on thy ;irm await In each conflicting hour ; Slight let the force of adverse numbers seem, Till o'er their prostrate ranks thy shouting squadrons pour ! O hear the voice of lofty song ! Obey the bard ! — Stop — stop IM'Garai ! check his pride, And rush resistless on each regal foe ! Thin their proud ranks, and give the smoking tide Of hostile blood to flow ! ]\Iark where Mac Cormac* pours along ! Rush on — retard His haughty progress ! let thy might Rise, in the deathful fight, O'er thy prime foe supreme. And let the stream Of valour flow, Until tliy brandisli'd sword Shall humble ev'ry haughty foe. And justice be restor'd. Resistless as the spirit of the night, In storms and terrors drcst ; Withering the force of cveiy hostile breast, Rush on tlie ranks of fi^ht ! * " Cairbrc, monarch of Ireland. He was son to Cormac, the precedinf,' monarch; and it was in liis quarrel tliat thi; allied princes were aflscmblcd in this day's battle against the little band of the Fenii." WAR ODE TO OSGUR. 77 Youth of fierce deeds and noble soul ! Rend — scatter wide the foe — Swift forward rush, — and lay the waving pride Of yon high ensigns low ! Thine be the battle — thine the sway ! On — on to Cnirbre hew thy conquering way, And let thy dcathful arm dash safety from his side ! As the proud wave, on whose broad back The storm its burden heaves,"^ Drives on the scatter'd wreck, Its ruin leaves ; So let thy sweeping progress roll. Fierce, resistless, rapid, strong ; Pour, like the billow of the flood, e'erwhelming might along ! From king to king,"j" let death thy steps await, Thou messenger of fate. Whose awful mandate thou art chosen to bear : Take no vain truce, no respite yield. Till thine be the contested field ; O thou, of champion'd fame the royal heir ! Pierce the proud squadrons of the foe, And o'er their slaughter'd heaps triumpliant rise ! Oh, in fierce charms and lovely might array'd ! Bright, in the front of battle, wave thy blade ! Oh, let thy fury rise ujjon my voice ! Rush on, and glorying in thy strength, rejoice ! Mark where yon bloody ensign flies ! Rush ! — seize it ! — lay its haughty triumphs low ! * " It is impossible that the utmost stretch of human imagina- tion and genius could start an image of greater sublimity than this ! Had Fergus never given any further proof of his talents than what is exhibited in the ode now before us, this stanza alone had been sufficient to have rendered his name immortal." f ' ' The monarch and provincial kings who were united against the Fenii." 78 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAJJD. Wide around the carnage spread ! Heavy be the heaps of dead ! Roll on thy rapid might, Thou roarmg stream of prowess in the fight ! What though Finn be distant far, * Art thou not thyself a war ? Victory shall be all thine own, And this day's glory thine, and thine alone ! Be thou the foremost of thy race in fame ! So shall the bard exalt thy deathless name ! So shall thy sword supreme o'er numbers rise, And vanquish'd Teamor'sf groans ascend the skies ! Though unequal be the fight. Though unnumber'd be the foe, Xo thought on fear or on defeat bestow, For conquest waits to crown thy cause, and thy successful might ! Rush, tlierefore, on amid the battle's rage. Where tierce contending kings engage. And powerless lay thy proud opponents low ! * " A beautiful and most affcctiug poem (ascribed to Oisin) in- forms UH that Finn arrived just time enough to take a last adieu of his (lying gi'andson The poet adds, that Finn never after was known to smile. Peace, after that, had no sweets, nor war any triuniiihs that could restore joy to his breast, or raise one wish for ambition or for glory." t " Teamor was the royal seat of the kings of Ireland, and the l)rincii)al court of legislation, from the days of Ollnnih Fodhla down to the reign of Dermod M'Cervail ; so that the Feis of Teamor continued, from lime to time, through a series of more than eleven hundred years." — Disserts, on Ilist. of Ireland, p. lOS. WAR ODE TO OSGUR. 79 Wide the vengeful ruin spread ! Heap the groaning field with dead ' Furious be thy gleaming sword, Death with every stroke descend ! TIkhi whose fame earth can no match afi"ord ; That fame which shall through time, as through the world, extend ! Shower thy might upon the foe ! Lay their pride, in Gabhra, low ! Thine the sway of this contested field ! To thee for aid the Fenii* fly ; On that brave arm thy country's hopes rely, From every foe thy native land to shield ! Aspect of beauty ! pride of praise ! Summit of heroic fame ! O theme of Erin ! youth of matchless deeds ! Think, think on thy wrongs ! now, now let vengeance raise Thy valiant arm ! and let destruction flame, Till low, beneath thy sword, each chief of Ulster lies ! O prince of numerous hosts and bounding steeds ! Raise thy red shield, with tenfold force endu'd ! Forsake not the fam'd path thy fathers have pursu'd, But let, with theirs, thy equal honours rise ! Hark ! Anguish groans — the battle bleeds Before thy spear ! its flight is death ! — Now, o'er the heath, The foe recedes ! * " The Irish in general were frequently called Fenians or Phenians, from their great ancestor, Fhenius Fursa, or, perhaiDS, in allusion to their Phccnician descent. But the Leinster legions proudly arrogated that name entirely to themselves, and called their celebrated body, exclusively, Fenii, or Fiana Eirean." 80 NATIVE POETflY OF IRELAND. And wide the hostile crimson flows ! — See how it dyes thy deathful blade ! See, in dismaj^, each routed squadron flies ! Now, now thy havoc thins the ranks of fight, And scatters o'er the field thy foes ! — O still be tliy increasing force display'd ! Slack not the noble ardour of thy might ! Pursue — pursue with death their flight ! Rise, arm of Erin — rise. From these fine specimens of the age of Oisin, and by the brother of that hero-bard, it will be seen that, like all productions of real antiquity, they arc characterized by great simplicity, forming a remarkable contrast with the turgid, stilted, and mock-heroic diction of those productions which Mr. Macpherson has imposed upon the world, as the trans- lated remains of Ossian. It is left to the reader to compare the respective productions, and from the internal evidence to pronounce which carry with them more strongly the stamp of the genume antique. Nothing more is known with certainty of the history of Oisin. According to popular tradition, which, indeed, some credulous writers have allowed to discredit their pages, he lived till the arrival of the national apostle, to whom he communicated the exploits of his Fenian compeers. This absurd popular eiTor has evidently arisen from tlioso sup- positious productions of tlie middle ages, called the Fenian Poems, being conducted, in many cases, in the fdrm of a dialogue between Oisin and St. Patrick, with so hukIi art as to give them a great appearance of reality. By all accounts, however, ho survived the deatli of his son Osgur ; and, perliaps, the lament for the loss f)f his sight, to whicli Mr. M.-uiihiTsfm, in tlu! poem of duihon, makes him give LAST OF THE PAGAN BARDS. 81 expression, may not have been contrary to the fact : — "When the world is dark with tempests, when thunder rolls, and lightninf? flies ; thou [addressing the sun] lookest in thy beauty from the clouds, and laughest at the storm ; but to Ossian thou lookest in vain ; for he beholds thy beams no more, whether thy yellow hair floats on the eastern cloud, or thou tremblest at the gate of the west." The list of pagan bards closes with Torna Egeas, -A^D. some of whose later productions, indeed, almost 400. '■ ' verge upon the very period when the Christian faith burst upon the land in a blaze of light so pervading and irresistible as to penetrate to the remotest recesses of the kingdom with a celerity equally surprising and inipre- cedented. Torna was chief doctor and arch-bard of the kingdom, and several of his poems have survived. Among the latest of these was a lament written on the death of the two princes to whom he had been preceptor — Core, King of Munster, and Niall the Great. These princes had been rival candi- dates for the supreme monai'chy, on the ground of their descent respectively from different branches of the royal line — a contest which resulted in favour of Niall, thougli descended of the Heremonian, or younger, branch. On this occasion the bard successfully exerted his influence as medi- ator between them. To both he was attached by one of the strongest bonds of the peculiar society which then existed — that of fosterage — the life-long devotion and almost sacred obligations of which are scarcely conceivable. Tliis was one of the chief of those aboriginal customs, which proved so powerful in making the Norman barons, as well as their vassals, ipsis Hihernis liiherniores, more Irish than the Irish G 82 NATIVE POETllY OF IRELAND. themselves, as they proverbially became, in the course of a very few generations after the invasion. Niall, one of the princes celebrated by the bard, -nas the famous hero of the Nine Hostages— one of the most accom- plished and ambitious warriors of all the Irish monarchs, who attained the supreme dignity about the year a.d. 379. He derived his surname from the number of princes from whom he obtained hostages. After defeating the Picts, who had menaced destruction to the Irish colony of North Britain, which, on this occasion, adopted the Scotic title from the mother country, Niall carried his arms into the territories of the Romans in the south, and plundered the coasts of Wales and Lancashire — an exploit of such notoriety as to have been recorded by the poet, Claudian, thus trans- lated : — "When Scots came thundering from the Irish shores, And th' ocean trembled, struck with hostile oars." Urged by the inordinate thirst of conquest, which "grows by what it feeds on," he likewise made a memorable descent on the coast of Brittany, in France ; from whence, along with various spoils, he carried off a number of youths as captives — one of whom, then in his sixteenth year, Provi- dence had destined to be the author of one of the greatest moral revolutions ever achieved by a single individual. In the moral world, Providence has ever ordained some con- comitant good to be depurated from tlie darkest evils by wliich His creatures can be visited, as in that of nature, the tluuider-storm, the tempest, and the whirlwind, wlien their devastations have ceased, are the means of civrrying off taint and cf^ntagion from tlie infected atmospliere, and of restor- ing its salubrity and cipiililn inni. And tlie youthful «ip- tivo, Patrick, on wlioni was indicted one of the severest toena's lament for corc and niall. 83 calamities, in his loss of liberty, was privileged to make a glorious return of good for evil, in giving freedom to his masters from the dark and sanguinary superstitions of Druidism, and conferring upon them the boon of a purer and more elevating faith. Thus did the slave become the giver of liberty, and the horrors of war herald the halcyon of peace. Niall, however, fulfilled the destiny predicted of those who destroy with the sword, having been assassinated at Liege by one of his own followers, in revenge for a long- remembered injury. The present version of the following ancient relic, like most of those by the same talented translator, is as nearly literal as possible, and expressly made in dejirecation of that spirit of refining upon the original by which many of the poetical translations of the bards are characterized. In its native simplicity, it presents a touching picture of mingled affection, devoted loyalty, and desolate bereavement. With what natural touches the bard pourtrays the character of the royal youths, and dwells with justifiable pride on the honour of his own position — placed between tliem — Niall on the right side, the seat of dignity ; and Corc, to whom pride was unknown, on his left, appropriately nearer his heart. TORNA'S LAMENT FOR CORC AND NIALL. TRANSLATED BY S. (AFTERWARDS SIR S.) FERGUSON, M.R.I. A. My foster-children were not slack ; Corc or Neal ne'er turn'd his back ; Neal, of Tara's palace hoar, Worthy seed of Owen More ; 84 NATIVE POKTKY OF IRELAND. Core, of Cashel's pleasant rock, Con-cead-cdh^'s* honour'd stock. Joint exploits made Erin theirs — Joint exploits of high compeers ; Fierce they were, and stormy strong ; Neal, amid the reeling throng, Stood terrific ; nor was Core Hindmost in the heavy work. Neal Mac Eochy Yivahain Ravaged Albin, hill and plain ; While he fought from Tara far, Core disdain'd une(|ual war. Never saw I man like Neal, Making foreign foemen reel ; Never saw I man like Core, Swinging at the savage work ;1[ Never saw I better twain. Search all Erin round again — Twain so stout in wai'like deeds — Twain so mild in peaceful weeds. These the foster-children twain Of Torna, 1 who sing the strain ; Tliese the}' are, the pious ones, My sons, my darling foster-sens ! Who duly every day would come To glad tlie old man's lonely home, ♦ Conn of the Hundred Battles. t In the paraphrase of this elegy, by Mr. D'Alton, in the Mi7i- " Tlu; eye of heaven no'or IohUM on one So God-liki; in the Ck'IcI as Tarn's lord, Save him the comrade of liis youth alone — Brave Core, terrific wicldcr of the sword." torna's lament for corc and niall. 85 Ah, happy days I've spent between Old Tara's Hall and Cashel-green ! From Tara down to Cashel ford, From Cashel back to Tara's lord. When with Neal, his regent, I Dealt with princes royally. If with Corc perchance I were, I was his prime counsellor. Therefore ISTeal I ever set On my right hand — thus to get Judgments grave, and weighty words, For the right hand loyal lords ; But, ever on my left hand side, Gentle Corc, who knew not pride, That none other so might part His dear body from my heart. Gone is generous Corc O'Yeon — woe is me ! Gone is valiant Neal O'Con — woe is me ! Gone the root of Tara's stock — woe is me ! Gone the head of Cashel rock — woe is me ! Broken is my witless brain — Neal, the mighty king, is slain ! Broken is my bruised heart's core — Corc, the High More, is no more ! * Mourns Lea Con, in tribute's chain, Lost Mac Eochy Vivahain, * The beautiful definition of the different feeling experienced by the loss of each, here conveyed— his reason being affected by the great national loss sustained by the death of Niall; while his heart is bruised by the loss of Corc, his favourite— is thus ex- pressed in Mr. D'Alton's version : — " In Niall's fall my reason felt the shock ; But, oh, when Corc expired, my heart was broken." 86 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. And her lost Mac Lewy true — Mourns Lea Mogha,* ruined too ! Tlu-ee poems, attributed to Torna, refer to one or both of his princely wards, Core and NiaU. There is another pre- served by Keating, which refers to the cemetery of Croghan, the most famous of the two royal burial-places in Ireland, which is here given, with an attempt to Anglicise the names. THE ROYAL CEMETERY OF CROGHAN. BLANK VERSE TRANSLATION. This sepulchre preserves the royal dust Of the renowned monarchs of the isle. Here Dathyf lies, whose acts were sung by fame, * Leath Cuin, or Con, and Leath Mogha — the names of the great northern and southern divisions of the island, of which these princes were the respective representatives. This territorial division was made in the reign of Conn of the Hundred Battles, A.D. 180, and marked by a great wall which extended from Galway to Dublin. t Dathy, the last pagan king of Ireland, and one of the few Irish princes whose ambition led him to undertake foreign expeditions, is recorded to have lost his life by a stroke of lightning at the foot of the Alps. His remains were carried to Croghan, the bearers, it is stated, still keeping his face turned toward the enemy, and the spot of his interment marked by a red pillar-stone. The tra- dition respecting him has been made the subject of a fine ballad by the late Mr. Davis. In Dr. O'Donovan's most interesting and valuable account of the forts and other ancient remains still visi- ble, Croghan is described as presenting the appearance of " the ruins of a town of llaths." " About two hundred paces to the north of the circular enclosure, called licilig na liiogh, is to be seen a small circular enclosure, with a tumulus in the centre, on the top of which is a very remarkable red pillar-stone, wiiich marks the grave of Dathy, the last pagan monarcli of Ireland." — Notes to Gonnclian'a Trans, of the Annals of the Four Masters, p. 122. THE ROYAL CEMETERY OF CROGHAN. 87 Near Croghan's pensive walls, close by whose side, For great exploits in war and equal arms, Dreaded Duncalach sleeps ; who from his foe Wrested, by greater might, to his own sway, Numbers of captived hosts, in fetters bound. Witnessing thraldom. Near the mournful shade These weeping marbles cast, are also laid The great remains of Conn, who sway'd with fame Hibernia's royal sceptre ; nor deny To hold the kindred dust, in love since join'd. Of Thuathal and Tumulta, who their sii'e, While mortal. Achy Feylioch own ; He, too, great parent of three sons as brave, Mingles his dust with those he once inspir'd With happy life ; nor does the gi-ave refuse To keep the breathless dust, by death disjoin'd, Of Achy Airiav, who his fate Ow'd to Mormaol's sword, with blood distain'd. Nor could thy beauty, lovely once, secure Thee, Clothro, or from death's subduing arm Guard thy all-conquering eyes, whose lance destroy'd (With thee in blood alike and charms allied) Thy sisters Meyv and Murasg ; here entomb'd, They rest in silence, near three royal queens (Forgetful now in death they ever reign'd), Eire, Fola, Banba, from the sceptred line. Sprung of the Thualtha de Danans, far renown'd For dire enchanting arts and magic power. In this repository sleep in peace Karmada's royal sons ; three warlike names. While life and vigour could their arms inspire, Now lifeless each, nor more intent on fame. Here valiant Myer rests, to death a prey, While the still monument seems proud to hold The relics of great Caol and Ugaine, Mix'd with the brother dust, which lies entomb'd, Of Cootha and Bayocha, who , in happier times Were born, now sleep near Oilioll's princely urn. 88 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. The introduction, in the early part of the fifth ^gD. century, of the light of Christianity, which spread with unprecedented rapidity, far from proving pre- judicial to the bardic order or art, only served to give a more exalted direction to their powers, and " Imp their wings to heaven." Dttbtach (Duvaoh) Mac Ltjghair, the chief bard of the kingdom, became a zealous disciple, and converted the pseans which he had composed to the false deities, into hymns in praise of the new faith. Among others who fol- lowed his example was Fiech, afterwards Bishop of Sletty, to whom is attributed a hymn in honour of the national apostle.* The former was appointed one of the famous committee of nuie appointed to revise the national records, the result of their labours being entitled Seanchns Mor, or the Great Antiquity. A poem attributed to Duvach, on the privileges of the bards, is preserved in the Book of The hymn or poem on the life of St. Patrick, attributed to Fiech, gives, in the space of tliirty-four verses, the principal events of the life of the great apostle. Some doubts have been entertained of its genuineness, and it is altogether repudiated by Ledwich, as inconsistent with his absurd incredulity of the existence of the apostle. TIio ground of the objection to the authenticity of this piece, which was first urged by tlie Bollandists, rests on its refer- ence to previous histories. It is preserved by Colgan, with • /list. Mems. of the Iriah Bards, p. 4G, quarto edition, trublished by tlio Celtic Society (1847), p. 237. fiech's hymn. 89 a Latin translation. An imperfect English translation was made by General Vallancey, the eminent Irish scholar and antiquary, in his Irish Grammar ; but a much better one is given in the Appendix to Lynch's Life of St. Patrick, a work of considerable research, in which all the arguments in its favour are adduced. From that work we take the first verse : " Patrick was born at heavenly Tours, As it is ascertain'd in stories ; A youth of sixteen years At the time he was brought under bondage. " It must be confessed that, excei^t with regard to its sub- ject, it is scarcely deserving of the interest that has been attached to it. It deals much in the marvellous, from which the writings respecting St. Patrick, which approach his own time, are considered to be the most free. The judgment of Ledwich, indeed, respecting this piece does not appear to be altogether unjust. In the peculiar rhythmical structure adopted by our bards, which is stated to have included a variety of nearly a hundred different species of verse, is to be found the earliest example of rhyme in any European language. Dr. O'Conor remarks on this peculiarity in the poetry of the Irish bards, that " their metre and their jingle are national."* This metrical method, though used by them in a variety of forms, generally consisted in making the syllable in the mid- dle of the line rhyme with that at the end ; sometimes they made the final syllable of one line rhyme with that in the middle of the line following, and the middle syllable of the first line with the final one of the next, thus making two Quoted by Mr. Hardiman, vol. ii., p. 368. 90 NATIVE POETRY OF lUELAND. rhymes or coincident terminations in each two lines. Among others, the famous poet, Shiel, or, as his name was Latinized (Co^lius), Sedulius, who flourished 450. aboiit the middle of the fifth century, has adopted this metrical structure in his fine Iambic verses on the life of Christ, written in Latin. A more perfect or double rhyme was also frequently adopted, as in the following lines of Columbanus : — "Dilexerunt tenebras tetras magis quam lucem, Imitari contemnunt vita) Dominum Ducem, Velut in somnis regnent, una hora \vetantur, Sed asterna tormenta aclhuc illis paiantiir." Shiel was well known on the Continent, like many of the early poets of Ireland, and a full account of him may be found in Bayle's Historical Dictionary. The Italian Chui'ch has adopted from him some of her most exquisite hymns. The dates respecting this eminent man vary greatly in diiferent accounts, and his history and writings have been confounded with those of another Sedulius, who flourished some time in the ninth century, and who there- fore may be termed Sedulius Secundus. This latter was an eminent commentator and theological writer. The sacred Latin poems are indisputably the compositions of the earlier Shiel. His principal work was the ritsclialc Carmen, in four books of heroic vei'se,* wliich lie afterwards converted • A ludicrous anecdote is told by Haylc, on the authority of another writer, that, tbroughtho nogligonce or ignorance of a tran- scriber eitlicr of a catalogue or the MS. writings of Sedulius, instead of being described as heroicis versihus, they were slandered as hcreticis venilux, which threw the poet into great discredit at Komo. Bayle does not, however, attach much credit to the story. —Hist. (£• Crit. Diet., vol. v., p. 105. CCELIUS SEDTJLIUS. 91 into prose, under the title of Paschcde Opus, He was also the author of several beautiful Latin hymns, which have been adopted in the Italian Church service. Two of these, com- mencing, the one, "A solis ortus cardine," the other, "Hostes Herodes impie," have been particularly admired. What Sedulius is supposed to have been the first to intro- duce into Latin poetry,* is recorded to have existed long previously among the bards of Ireland in their native tongue. In some cases (perhaps the earliest attempts) it consisted merely of a coincident termination, as in this hymn of Sedu- lius, either in the middle of the line, or at the end, or both. If we may place any dependence on the Precepts of the Poets — one of the earliest relics of Irish literature, attributed to Forchern (Forthern) — the variety of the lyric measures of the bards must have been astonishingly great, as directions are therein given for the composition of no less than a hundred different species of verse. However, it is admitted that this ancient piece was interpolated by the Poet Kinfiela, who flour- ished about the middle of the seventh century ; and perhaps * This anterior indeed to the generally received era of the first introduction of rhyme into Europe. Sharon Turner seems struck with astonishment at meeting with an example of middle-line rhymes in the writings of Adhelm — the earliest Anglo-Saxon who wrote Latin verse — and remarks : " Here, then, is an example of rhyme in an author who lived before the year 700, and he was an Anglo-Saxon. Whence did he derive it ? Not from the Arabs : they had not yet reached Europe. I would rather refer it to the popular songs in his own language, or in the language of his 7iei(jhhours" — Hist. Anglo-Saxoiis. Now, as Turner liad referred to the practice of this art at an earlier age by Sedulius, whom he terms an Lishman, and alludes to a rhyme quoted from him by Albinus, it would have been more candid to have stated the fact that Adhelm derived it from his preceptor Maidulf, an Irish scholar. 92 • NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. this may have been one of his additions, in reference to what then existed. There is every reason to conclude indeed, that the medifeval bards departed greatly from the simplicity of their predecessors, and taxed their invention in rendering more elaborately artificial and intricate the rules of their art, as the sophists endeavoured to atone by the introduction of their rlietorical rules for the decline of Grecian eloquence. " The rhythm consisted (we learn) in an equal distance of intervals and similar terminations, each line being divisible into two, that it may be more easily accommodated to the voice and music of the bards ; it is not formed by the nice collocation of long and short syllables, but by a certaiti harmonic rhythm, adjusted to the voice of song, by the position of words which touch the heart, and assist the memory. In every ancient Irish verse, a pause in the middle of it may be discerned from which the succeeding clause of the same verse commences, and, making harmony with the preceding, is completed in the same space of time, and with similar terminations. Hence, each verse consists of two lines, terminating with a like cantilena, and making two versesas to sound."* Thus in the hyum of Scdulius — one of the most ancient existing examples in Latin verse — " A solis ortus eard/zic, ad usque terriu limitem, Christum canamus priucipt'm, uatum Maria virg/wc." Baylc inclines to the opinion that he was not an Irislnnan, in which he is followed by Lcdwich ; but he assigns no reason for his opinion, nor adduces any auth()rity in support of it. Ho is ♦ Kev. 1)ii. Dhummonk's KxHay on the Authenticity of Ossian, p. 112, vol. xvi., 'I'ninn. li. I. Acad. DALLAN AND SEANCHAN. 93 doubtless correct in the opinion that the Sedulius called in the notes to St. Paul's Epistles, Sednlii Scoti Hibermensis, was the later writer of the same name ; but it is natural to infer that, the one being an acknowledged Irishman, the name Avas also Irish. Ussher claims him, and adduces numerous autliorities to prove him an Irishman. Besides, we have no proof of the existence of this rhymed style, which was afterwards adopted from the Irish poets by the Anglo-Saxons, having existed on the Continent, and we have clear evidence that it did exist in Ireland. This is an argument in favour of our claim to him which has not hitherto been noticed. The only fault found with his verse by Bayle is an occasional slip in point of prosody.* It is admitted that there was something noble in his great poem, and Bayle quotes some laudatory verses, with which we shall close this notice : — " The learn'd Juvencus in heroic verse Does the great work of majesty rehearse ; Hence, too, Sedulius chose his radiant theme, And grew conspicuous in the book of fame." We come now to the sixth century, in the latter part of which flourished two eminent poets, Eochy Eigeas (or the Wise), better known as Dallan Forgail, chief laureate in his day, and Seanchan Torpest, a Connaught bard, who succeeded him and commemorated him in a fine elegy. The * Dr. Drummond's account of the poetic licence claimed by our lytic poets at least is : — " And though neither the same number of syllables occurred, nor the same sounds were observed in the finals, the art itself, and the skill of the musician, in lengthening or shortening the time, claimed the privilege of producing what was short and abbreviating what was long It was made long by dwelling on it a double space of time." — Ibid., p. 113. 94 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. principal production of Dalian was a poem in honour of St. Columba, who himself has been numbered among the sons of Apollo, though the authenticity of the productions attri- buted to him has been much questioned. The following pieces by Dalian, independent of their antiquity and poetic merit, are interesting from the glance which they afford into the manners and spirit of the age. It aj^pears that Aodh, son of Duach, King of Orgiall,* was possessed of a shield as renowned in its day as that of Achilles. This shield, wliich had got the appellation of Dubh-Ghiolla, had long excited the envy of the Prince of Breifne, who, after many efforts, promises, and flatteries, at length prevailed on the bard to use his influence in obtaining it for him."}" With this view he proceeded to Orgiall, and recited to the young prince the following flattering odes : — ODE TO AODH, SON OF DUACH. A.I), 580. TRANSLATED BY HENRY G RATTAN CURRAN. Bounteous and mighty Aodh ! whose potent shield Glares like a fatal star ui)on the hold — Fierce as the stooping hawk, or f o11oa\ ing hound, Resistless as the ocean-billow's bound — Tliy sliield I sing — the warrior's best relief — Avenger of the fall of sept and chief ; Brighter than foam that slu\)uds the bursting wave, Tliat glorious shield that heroes, monarchs crave, Reiiown'd i>'er all tliat warlike arm may wield Amid the fuiliuy raiika! drr.ul speckled shiiM ; * A district comprehending the present counties of Louth, Monagban, &c. I Irish AI iiutrclny , vol. ii., p. •iiJS. ODE TO DUBH-GHIOLLA. 95 That guardian shield where Duach's son up-rears, Awe-struck, the daring heart no longer dares. Oh, would the prince our bardic spell requite With that proud shield — dread portent of the fight ; Aodh's glorious name through Erin's plains should ring, While Dalian's hand could wake the trembling string. ODE TO DUBH-GHIOLLA, THE SHIELD OF AODH. TRANSLATED BY HENRY GRATTAN CURRAN. Bright as the speckled salmon of the wave ! Dubh-GhioUa ! panic of the branded brave ; With thee would I combine, in deathless praise, Proud Aodh, whose arm of might thy burden sways, Fenced with its thorny mail the holly stands — So, round the prince the guardian shield expands : The bull's strong hide the needle's point defies— Thus vainly round him baffled ranks arise : That shield at once his panoply and blade, He scorns the spear, the falchion's feebler aid. As chafing storms, too long in durance pent, Sweejj through the forest, finding sudden vent ; Such is the voice of Aodh when Avith his shield Compass'd he stands, bright terror of the field ! Notwithstanding, however, the influence which at all times the bards jiossessed, and the dread which, in this age, they inspired, by the excessive insolence that again charac- terized the order, the prince thought proper to decline the modest request of Dalian. " Your poem is good," said he, "and I will reward thee with gold and silver, and jirecious gems ; stately steeds and cattle I will likewise give, but not the shield— that thou canst not have." The pitch of inso- lence to which the bards had arrived, and which, as we shall 96 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. see, at length recoiled upon themselves, is strikingly evinced in the reply of Dalian, thus baffled in his object. " I wUl satirize the king," said he, "and make his name odious throughout the wide-extended regions of Alba and Ireland." How greatly the order stood in need of reformation, will be obvious from an instance of such wanton arrogance in one of their leading members. Indeed, their number had now swelled so incredibly, and their presumption, even towards the throne, increasing in proportion — that from being idol- ized by all ranks, from the king to the peasant, they came at length to be regarded as a crying national evil. Besides having become burdensome to the state, from their incredible number, they had rendered themselves odious to the nobi- lity, whom they did not scrujile to lampoon ; and to such a height did their arrogance at length arrive that, we are assured, they even dared to demand some of the immunities and privileges of the croAvn itself.* To put a stop to a grievance so intolerable, a convention of the states-general was called at Drumceat, in County Donegal (a.d. 580), at which the question of their suppression, or banishment, was discussed and almost decided ujion, when St. Columba, who had just arrived from his settlement in lona, entering the convention, proposed such a reformation of abuses in the bardic order, and such a reduction of their number, as, with the great influence of the advocate, satisfied all parties. It was on this occasion that Dalian commenced his Amhra in eulogy of Columba, reserving the comiiletion till the time of Columba's deatli, at the saint's own request. Tlio death of the bard, wliicli occurred about seventeen years after tliis convocation, was conmicmorated in the following fine elegy by his friend and successor, Seanchan ToRrEST. '■■ JTl.'. 26i). I Eau-Buadh, tho rod cataract ; or Ballyshannon Waterfall. SEANCHAN's lament for D ALLAN. 99 Seanchan was the author of an historical poem preserved in the Book of Lecan. He survived till somewhere about the middle of the seventh century. We now proceed to notice some pieces of the Latin poetry of two illustrious ecclesiastics who adorned this period, Columba and Columbanus. Of them also we shall say little, as any account of these eminent men, to be satisfactory, would occupy a disproportioned space in these pages. Like the thunder and the stormy sea, Cowering those who would put out to sea, ! like an embodied hurricane to see ! Ulla! Ullalu! Search worlds upon worlds ! pass the universe's outer sphere, Ulla! Ullalu! And none shall you find like to him whose bones are buried here. Ulla! Ullalu! Kingly he was, both in speech and mien. Much abhorring all things false and mean. What he spoke, that truly ever did he mean. Ulla! Ullalu! Never yet saw earth a grander bard — Never a sublimer warrior-bard — Yet his last low bedroom's door, alas ! is barred ! Ulla! Ullalu! This is given by way of contrast to the foregoing, being much more literal and less paraphrastical. 100 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Columba, the great apostle of the Western A-D- Islands, and founder of the famous order of the 521-597. Culdees, who flourished in the middle and latter part of the sixth century,* was a distinguished friend and patron of the bards ; nor does his admiration of their art appear to have been merely theoretical. Several pieces of sacred poetry attributed to him, both in Latin and Irish, are still extant, and there are many others, now probably lost, noticed by Colgan, who states that he had in his pos- session ten of the Irish pieces, of each of which he quotes the first line. I The only one of the Irish poems we have seen is an ode addressed to his monastery in Ireland, at his departure for Hy, or lona, the imagery of which is singular. Seven angels are supposed to take charge alternately of the monastery during each day of the week, each making his report in turn to the recording angel, a fancy well calcu- lated to preserve discipline and keep alive the vigilance of the members. As it is of considerable length, arid in some places rather obscure and prolix, the first few verses only are here given from the Transactions of Dublin Gaelic Socidij. • There is a difference of five years between the Annals of the Four- il/flxtcrs and those of Tigernach, in the year of his death — ilie former making it 51)2, the latter, 5'J7. t TrioH Thaum., p. 472. COLUMBA. 101 COLUMBA'S FAREWELL TO ARRAN. BLANK VERSE TRANSLATION FROM THE IRISH BY T. o'fLANAGAN. Farewell from me to Arran — A sad farewell to my feelings ; I am sent eastward to Hy, And it separated since tlie flood. Farewell from me to Arran ; — It anguishes my heart Not to bo westward at her waves, Amidst the groups of the saints of heaven ! Farewell from me to Arran ; — It has anguish 'd my heart of faith, It is the farewell lasting ; — Oh, not of my will is the separation ! * * * * Of Columba's Latin poetry Colgan has published three hymns, of which Dr. Smith *■ has furnished metrical trans- lations. One of these is stated to have been composed during a thunder-storm at Durrough, one of the religious houses he had established in Ireland ; another is on the fall of angels and the final judgment ; and the third in praise of the Redeemer. These pieces, as the reader will jjerceive from the lines of the original quoted below, are written in rhyme "agreeably to the form and measure of Irish poetry," as Dr. Smith states, "to which his disciples were * Life of Coluniba, Edinburgh, 1798, Appendix. 102 NATIVE POETKY OF IRELAND. SO much accustomed."* The two first are here selected as affording the most favourable poetical specimens. VERSES WRITTEN DURING A THUNDER-STORM, ABOUT THE YEAR 550. Gracious Father ! bow Thine ear, And our request in mercy hear : O bid the thunder cease to roar, And let the liglitnings flash no more ; Lest long in terror we remain, Or by its stroke we should be slain. The pow'r supreme to Thee belongs, Archangels laud Thee in their songs ; The wide expanse of heav'n above Resounds Thy glory and Thy love. Saviour of the human race ! Whoso pow'r is ccjual to Tliy grace, For ever be Thy name ador'd As King sujireme, and (mly Lord ! To all Tliy people Tliou art nigh, And oft Thy grace i)revents their cry. May love and zeal to Thee, my God ! Have in my heart a firm abode : O that tlie casket may l)o sucli As fits a gem so very rich 1 * " Noli Pator indulgcrc Tonitrua cum fulgcre," &c. COLUMBA. 103 ON THE CREATION, FALL OF ANGELS, FINAL JUDGMENT. The God omnipotent, who made the world, Is subject to no change. He was. He is, And He shall be : th' Etert^al is His name. ***** This God created all the heav'nly hosts, Archangels, angels, potentates and pow'rs. That so the emanations of His love Might flow to myriads, diffusing good. But from this eminence of glory fell Th' apostate Lucifer, elate with pride Of his high station and his glorious form. Fill'd with like pride, and envy'ng God Himself His glory, other angels shar'd his fate, While the remainder kept their happy state. Thus fell a third of the bright heav'nly stars, Involv'd in the old serpent's guilt and fate. And with him suffer, in th' infernal gulf. The loss of heav'n, in chains of darkness bound. God then to being call'd this lower world, According to the plan form'd in His mind. He made the firmament, the earth and sea, The sun, the moon, and scars ; a glorious host ! The earth He clad with herbs for food, and trees, And then to ev'ry living thing gave birth. And last to man, whom He made lord of all. When angels (the first morning stai-s) beheld The wondrous fabric, with glad songs they hymn'd The praise of the Almighty Architect, For such displays of wisdom, pow'r, and love. But our first parents, from their happy state Seduc'd by Satan, were with terror fill'd. With dreadful sights appall'd, till God with grace Consol'd their hearts, and Satan's pow'r restrained. 304 NATIVE POETKY OF IRELAND. His providential care He also show'd, And bade the humid clouds distil theii- rains, And times and seasons in their order run. Rivers and seas (like giants bound in chains) He forced to keep within the limits fix'd, And flow for ever for the use of man. Lo ! earth's vast globe, suspended by His pow'r, On nothing hangs, as on a solid base. * * * >;-- * O happy they who love His holy law, And in the blessings of the saints partake ! Who, in the paradise of God above. Drink of the living stream, and eat the fruit Of that life-giving tree, ordain'd by God To heal the nations, and to feed the soul. Thrice happy is the soul that shall ascend To this abode of God, when the last trump Shall sound, and shake the earth, more than of old. When Sinai shook, and Moses was afraid. This awful day of God the Lord draws nigh, When eartlily objects shall have lost their charm. And joy or terror fill each human soul : Then shall we stand before the judgment seat, To render an account of all our deeds : Then shall our sins before our face bo set. The l)0(>ks be open'd, and the conscience heard. None shall be missing ; for the dead shall hear The voice of God, and from their graves come forth To join their souls, and .stand before the bar. Time runs his course no more ; the wand'ring orbs Through heaven lose their course : the sun grows dark, Eclipsed by the glory of the Judge ; Tlie stars drop down as, in a tempest, fruit Is HJiaken from tlio tree ; and all tlie earth. Like one vast furnace, is involved in flames. See ! tlio angelic hosts attend the Judge, And, on ten thousand Jiarps, His praises jiymn. COLTJMBA. 105 Their crowns they cast before His feet, and sing — * -x- * * * But we who have beHev'd, and kept His word, Shall enter into glory with the Lord ; And there, in diff'rent ranks, we shall receive, Through grace, rewards proportion'd to our deeds, And dwell in endless glory with our Lord. Almighty Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, Thou ONE Eternal, ever-blessed God ! To me, the least of saints, vouchsafe Thy grace ! O may I join the thousands round Thy throne ! The Culdee College of Columba at lona or Icolmkille, justly called by Dr. Johnson "the luminary of the Caledonian regions," from the admirable discipline and character im- parted to it by its venerable founder, continued for ages after his decease to be one of the most distinguished seats of learning and religion in Europe. "From this nest of Columba," says O'Donnell, one of his biographers, in refer- ence to his name, signifying a dove, ' ' these sacred doves took their flight to all quarters." Besides his establish- ment at lona, the number of houses for religion and learning said to have been founded by him in Ireland, the land of his princely sires,* almost exceeds belief. The name Culdee is merely a corruption of the Irish Ceile-De, or servants of God. Almost the only relic of Columba remaining in his own * St. Cohimba was descended of Conal Gulban, son of Niall of the Nine Hostages, the distinguished Irish monarch in the early part of the fifth century. Many of his disciples, likewise, were of royal and noble descent. 106 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAINI). country, is the magnificently illuminated MS. copy of the Gospels preserved in the University of Dublin, which is traditionally ascribed to him. Perhaps it is unequalled for the beauty of its penmanship and illumination. Another poetical ecclesiastic of this period, of more ex- tended European reputation than the former, with whom he has been not unfrequently confounded, was Columbanus, A.D. the glory of his age and country. For the reason previously stated, we mean not to dwell upon his history. After residing for a considerable time at the cele- brated monastery of Bangor, in Down, where he received his education, he passed over to France, from thence to Germany, and at last to Italy, filling all these regions with houses of religion and learning. It appears to have been in the latter country, where he founded the famous monastery of Bobbio, in which, after his various wanderings, he quietly spent the residue of his days, that he composed the prin- cipal of his poetical pieces. In one of them, addressed to Fuidolius, Bishop of Treves, he alludes to the advanced age he had attained. Several of them are addressed to a favourite disciple named Hunaldus, cautioning liim against the snares and vanities of the world — one of them forming, in the original, an acrostic — Columbanus — Hunaldo — com- mencing— " Casibus iiiiiinncris dccurrint tempora vitte." The following translation of an epistle to the same per- son is given by Dr. Smith. In some copies, however, the name is Setluis, and not Hunaldus.* * Taylor's Binrj. Britaimirn Jjtcrnrin, p. l.'jS, AnRlo-Sax. Era. The remainder may be seen in Smitli's Life of Coltimlja, thonK'h he admits that it was probably the production of Columbanus, of which there cannot be the nmallcst doubt. COLUMBANUS. 107 EPISTLE TO HUNALD, AGAINST AVARICE. HuNALD ! the counsel of Columban hear, And to thy friend give now a willing ear ; No studied ornament shall gild my speech, What love shall dictate, I will plainly preach. Have faith in God, and His commands obey, While fleeting life allows you here to stay ; And know, the end for which this life is giv'n Is to prepare the soul for God and heav'n. Despise the pleasures which will not remain, Nor set thy heart on momentary gain ; But seek for treasures in the sacred page, And in the precepts of each saint and sage. These noble treasures will remain behind When earthly treasures fly on wings of wind. Think of the time when trembling age shall come. And the last messenger to call thee home. 'Tis wise to meditate betimes on death, And that dread moment which will stop the breath. On all the ills which age brings in its train. Disease and weakness, languor, grief, and pain. The joints grow stifi", the blood itself runs cold, Nor can the staff" its trembling load uphold. And need I speak of groans and pangs of mind, And sleep disturb'd by ev'ry breath of wind 1 What then avails the heap of yellow gold, For years collected, and each day re-told 1 Or what avails the table richly stored To the sick palate of its dying lord ? The sinful pleasures which have long since past, Are now like arrows in his heart stuck fast. He who reflects that time, on eagle-wing, Flies past, and preys on every earthly thing, Will scorn vain honours, avarice despise, On nobler objects bent, beyond the skies. 108 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Alas ! vain mortals, how misplac'd your care, When, in this world, you seek what is not there I True lasting happiness is found above, And heav'n, not earth, you therefore ought to love. The rich enjoy not what they seem to have, But something more their souls incessant crave. The use of riches seldom do they know ; For heirs they heap them, or they waste in show. O ! happy he, to whose contented mind Riches seem useless, but to help mankind ; ^Vho neither squanders what sliould feed the poor, Nor suffers avarice to lock his store. No moths upon his heaps of garments feed. Nor serves his corn to feed the pamper'd steed. No cankering care shall take his peace away ; No thief, nor flame, shall on his substance prey. His treasure is secure beyond the skies, And there he finds it on the day he dies. This world we enter'd naked at our birth, Naked we leave it and return to earth ; Silver and gold we need not much, nor long. Since to this world alone such things belong. Life's little space requires no ample store ; Soon heaven opens to the pious poor ; Whiles Pluto's realms their gloomy gates unfold, Those to admit who set their souls on gold. Our Saviour bids us avarice avoid, Nor love those things which can't bo long enjoy'd. Sliort, says the Psalmist, are the days of man, The measui'o of his life a narrow span. Time flies away ; and on its rapid wing Wc fly along with ov'ry earthly thing. Yet time returns, and crowns the spring with flow'rs, Renews tlie seasons and repeats tlie hours. But life returns not with revolving years, And man, once gone, on earth no more ajipears. WiHo, then, ia ho who makes it liis great care. In this sli(jrt space, for heaven to prepare. COLUMBANUS. 109 The poem addressed to Fa3dolius, Bishop of Treves, is a very curious one, written in a sort of verse then very un- common, but afterwards adopted, probably from him, by several writers, and the origin of which he attributes to Sappho. The metre is pentesyllabic, with a hexametrical conclusion of six lines. It is chiefly on the same subject as the foregoing — a subject on which he seems never tired of expatiating, though in a much more playful style, appealing to various classical subjects tending to dissuade from the love of money. It is too long for insertion. The following beautiful verses, which appear to have been addressed to some of the youthful nobles whom the fame of the sanctity and learning of the great missionary gathered round him, are on much the same general subject as the preceding pieces — a homily against the love of the world : — THE RHYTHMICS OF COLUMBANUS.* The world itself rolls daily to its wane ; If, then, it fades, shall man, vain man, remain 1 Whom equal birth but equal honour gave. Claims he exemption from the common grave 1 Hopes he that law of nature to defy, By which the dead have died, the living die 1 On what presumption — hath tlie bravest breath'd Beyond the space creation first bequeath'd ? Of all their boasted triumphs point me one O'er death, to swell the list of their renown. Alas ! not one — when he descends to strike. The bravest, proudest — all — submit alike. * The translation is given by Dr. Campbell in his Ecclesiastical Strictures, merely with the initials " the Rev. J. W." 110 XATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Vainly the miser toils to heap a store, Vainly he starves himself, and cheats the poor. Foi'c'd. to be lib'ral at his latest breath, And what he sav'd from God — resign to Death ; Some spendthrift riots in his ill-got gold, And dissipates the hoard before he 's cold . Fondly the pleasures of this life we prize, Fondly the terrors of the next despise ; Grasping at that which glides, and mocks our hold, And, where we should be cautious, blindly bold ; We leave the guide of day to plunge in night, And love the foulest darkness more than light. An hour of sway — a transitory reign, A dream of bliss — are all wo here can gain. And yet for these we liazard endless pain ; Braving the pangs that on the wicked wait, And all the horrors of an unknown state. Not so thy choice — though vice herself array In ev'ry splendour — take the virtuous way : Believe Isaiah's hallow'd words, which say, " Flesh is as grass," and feels a like decay — The fairest flow'r, wliose beauty tempts the eye. Blooms but a short existence ere it die — The fairest forms that yet of earth were made Share the same fate — and, like the flow'r, fade ; As shrinks the flow'r beneath the scorching ray, So droops the youth whom vice hatli taught to stray ; Though others drink her poison'd cup and smile, Let not their mirtli tliine a])putito liegnile; False is the joyous seinl)luuco that appears. The cup of vice is still the cup of tears. Search not her haunts, to happiness unknown — True hajntiness is virtue's gift alone. Warii'd liy tlie wrecks thou seest on ev'ry side. Trust not her dang'rous hand thy course to guide ; Let no teinptiition thy pure soul entice To one base action whicli tliy tlioughts despise — EARLY ACADEMIES. Ill Raise thy mind's eye to scenes of bliss above, Where angels dwell in never-ending love. Where age its groans — its weakness youth resigns, Where the soul ne'er in thirst or hunger pines : Where feeds the crowd on heav'nly food alone — Where pangs of birtli and death are both unknown : Where the true life, for ever green, appears — Nor chang'd by sorrows, nor consum'd by years. In the latter part of the sixth, and the course of the seventh, century, the academies of Ireland had attained such reputation as to draw students not only from England, but from many of the continental states. With respect to the former we have the authority of Bede, Camden, and Lord Lyttleton — some of the very highest autliorities with regard to early English affairs.* Lyttleton even assures us that the Anglo-Saxon students brought from thence the first know- ledge of letters possessed by their countrymen, in which opinion Dr. Johnson also coincides. Indeed, that the Saxons brought no alphabet with them to England, appears a matter of almost absolute certainty. Among the Anglo-Saxon students thus resorting to Ireland, we find Prince Aldfrid, afterwards king of the Northumbrian Saxons. This event, which occurred about a.d. 084, is corroborated by Bede in his " Life of St. Cuthbert." Aldfrid appears to have spent several years in Ireland, and there is still extant in the Irish language a poem attributed to this prince, descriptive of the various provinces and cities of the kingdom, of which the public are here presented, for the first time, with the only metrical version that has appeared. * Beda, Hist. Gent. AnfiL, lib. iii., c. 27 ; Camden's Britannia ; and Lyttleton's History of llenrij 11. 112 NATIVE POETKY OF IRELAND. PRINCE ALDFRID'S ITINERARY THROUGH IRELAND. TRANSLATED BY JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN.* I found in Inisfailf the fair, In Ireland, while in exile there, Women of worth, both grave and gay men, Many clerics and many laymen. I travell'd its fruitful provinces round, And in every one of the fivej I found, Alike in church and in palace hall, Abundant apparel and food for all. Gold and silver I found, and money, Plenty of wheat and plenty of honey ; I found God's people rich in pity. Found many a feast and many a city. * The present version, like most of those by the same veteran translator, was made specially for this volume by Mr. Mangan, well known to the literary world, though perhaps not by name, by the Literal Orientales and Aiit)iolo(jia Germanica in the Ihihliti Univemity Magazine. The original was first printed, without any translation, in the Irinh Miiistrelsi/, by Mr. Plardiman. An ad- mirable Hteral translation, by Mr. O'Donovan, appeared in the Dublin Penny Journal, vol. i., p. 1)4, to which the reader is re- ferred in proof of the rigid fidelity of tlic present version. t Inisfail— one of the ancient titios of Ireland — signified the island of Destiny, from the Lial Fail, or Stone of Destiny, on which the monarchs were crowned. J Three of the provinces have undergone little change except in name. Their ancient titles were Ultonia, Ulster ; Mononia, Munster; Coniiacia, Connaught ; Lagenia, Leinstcr; but the two Mcaths then formed a fifth, now merged into the latter province. PRINCE ALDFRID's ITINERARY. 113 I also found in Armagh, the splendid, Meekness, wisdom, and prudence blended, Fasting, as Clirist hath recommended. And noble councillors untranscended. I found in each great church moreo'er, Whether on island or on shore. Piety, learning, fond affection, Holy welcome and kind protection. I found the good lay monks and brothers Ever beseeching help for others, And in their keeping the holy word Pure as it came from Jesus the Lord.* I found in Munster, unfetter'd of any, Kings and queens, and poets a many — Poets well skill'd in music and measure, Prospei'ous doings, mirth and pleasure. I found in Connaught the just redundance Of riches, milk in lavish abundance ; Hospitality, vigour, fame. In Cruachan'st land of heroic name. I found in the country of ConnallJ the glorious Bravest heroes, ever victorious ; Fair-complexion'd men and warlike, Ireland's lights, the high, the starlike ! * Some fine specimens of the skill and ingenuity expended by the early Irish Christians upon their copies of the sacred writings and theological works are still extant. The beautiful illuminated copy of the Four Gospels, attributed to St. Columba, now pre- served in the library of Dublin University, is worthy of particular admiration. t Cruachau, or Croghan, was the name of the royal palace of Connaught. J Tyrconnell, the present Donegal. i 114 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. I found in Ulster, from hill to glen, Hardy warriors, resolute men ; Beauty that bloom'd when youth was gone. And strength transmitted from sire to son. I found in the noble district of Boyle [MS. here illegible^ Brehons, Erenachs,* weapons bright. And horsemen bold and sudden in fight. I found in Leinster, the smooth and sleek, From Dublin to Slewmargy'sf peak ; Flourishing pastures, valour, health, Long-living worthies, commerce, | wealth. I found, besides, from Ai-a to Glea, In the broad rich country of Ossorie, Sweet fruits, good laws for all and each, Great chess-players, § men of truthful sijeech. I found in Meath's fair iirinciiaality Virtue, vigour, and hospitality ; Candour, joyfulness, bravery, purity, Ireland's bulwark and security. || * The Brehons were the judges and promulgators of the law. The signification of Erenach is not distinctly known, except that it was a ruler of some kind, and has sometimes been interpreted as synonymous with the ollicc of archdeacon. t Ath-Cliath was the ancient name of Dublin. Slcwmargy, a mountain in Queen's County, near the river Barrow. J Tacitus, in his Life of Agricola, states that the harbours of Ireland were better known by means of commercial navigatoi's than those of Britain. (Melius aditus portusquc, per connuercia et negociatorcR, cogniti.) § There arc frc(iuent allusions to the game of chess in most of the Irish poems. II Tlie allusion here is to the palace of Tcmur or Taia, the residence of the supreme monaich. INCURSIONS OK TllK NORSEMEN. 115 I found strict morals in age and youth, I found historians recording truth ; The things I sing of in verse unsmooth, I found them all — I have written sooth. The inroads of tlie Norsemen, or Danes, which A.D. be<^an bv a descent on the island of Rathlin, on the 795. ° "^ northern coast, at the close of the eighth century, though ultimately productive of some advantage, produced, for a long period, the most disastrous effects upon the peaceful arts of life — and literary pursuits shared in the general disasters of the period. To these adventurous northern sea-kings of Scandinavia — variously termed in our annals and poems Lochlanach, or people of Lochlan, G<(h, or strangers, and Ostmanni, or Eastmen— the establishment of the principal sea-ports is attributed. Under their rule, at least, they first rose to importance. DoNAT, or Donatus — according to the custom prevalent in the middle ages of Latinizing the names of the learned — flourished about a.d. 840. Like many Irish scholars of the period, he proceeded to the Continent, and in the latter part of his life was made Bishop of Fesulse, near the famed city of the Medici, in Tuscany. He has left some elegant Latin verses, Avhich, though not strictly admissible, are here introduced. They are not only highly eulogistic of his country, but contain, perhaps, the earliest allusion on record to those peculiarities connected with it vulgarly attributed to the agency of St. Patrick. Far westward lies an isle of ancient fame, By nature bless'd, and Scotia* is her name — Enroll'd in books — exhaustless in her store Of veiny silver and of golden ore. * See p. 62. 116 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Her fruitful soil for ever teems with wealth ; With gems her waters, and her air with health ; Her verdant fields with milk and honey flow ; Her woolly fleeces vie with virgin snow ; Her waving furrows float with bearded corn ; And arms and arts her envied sons adorn. No savage bear with lawless fury roves ; No rav'ning lion through her sacred groves ; No poison there infects — no scaly snake Creeps through the grass, nor frogs* annoy the lake : An island worthy of its pious race, In war triumphant, and unmatch'd in peace. About the middle of the tenth century flourished ■A-D. an eminent poet, Cormacan Eigeas (or the wise), son of Maolbrigid, chief laureate of Ulster. His principal production was The Circuit of Ireland,'^ a poem written in celebration of the great exploit of the renowned wai'rior, Murkerta, or Murtagh, MacNeill, commonly sur- named of the leather-cloaks, whose friend and follower he was. This chief, who was prince of Aileach, in the north, was also heir to the crown of Ireland, and, in order to strike terror into any secret rival claimants, lie set forth in the depth of winter, and made the circuit of the kingdom, exacting hostages of all the principal chiefs. These, as a pledge of his loyalty, and a proof of the injustice of some latent feelings of jealousy witli wliich lie liad reason to * However fabulous this may appear, it is said tliat frogs were formerly unknown in this country, and were first i)ropa^ate(I here from spawn introduced as an experiment by a l'\;llow of Trinity Collpgc, DubHn, in liVM\. t Publislied in the Arclueological Socictifs Tracts. IKCtTRSIONS OF THE NORSEMEN. 117 believe he was regarded, he presented to the monarch. The poem commences — " Muircheartach, son of valiant Niall, Thou hast taken the hostages of Innisfail ; Thou hast brought them all into Aileach, Into the stone-built Grainan (palace) of steeds. Thou didst go forth from us with a thousand heroes, Of the race of Eoghan of red weapons, To make the great circuit of all Erin, Muircheartach of the yellow hair! " From this period the country became subject to the pre- datory incursions of the Danes and Northmen, the blighting influence of which soon became visible in the decline of the literary spirit. The temerity of these ruthless invaders continued for a long period to increase, and threatened to destroy lastingly the peace and tranquillity of the kingdom. Fresh swarms of them were continually arriving. Like an overwhelming torrent, they poured over the land — marring the very face of nature, destroying the institutions of learn- ing, and sweeping away almost every trace of literature, civilization, and art from the island. We may Avell imagine the bard, in his place of refuge from the fury of the storm, in the mountain caves or deep recesses of the forest, having recourse to his beloved harp to soothe the anguish of his spirit, or chant a deep imprecation on the desolators of his country — realizing the noble picture of the poet — ' Robed in sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the poet stood (Loose his beard and hoary hair Stream'd like a meteor to the troubled air) ; And, with a master's hand and prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre." Ghay. 118 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELA>«*D. The reigii of the celebrated monarch, Brian Uoru, in the tenth century, served, like that of Alfred in England, to check this great national calamity, and restored the king- dom, in some degree, to its former prosperity and peace. While, by his military prowess, he subdued these lawless invaders of his kingdom, he was not less careful in improv- ing the peace thus procured by the wisest civil measures and most judicious legislation. Soon, however, the Danes, taking advantage of a favourable opportunity, and aided by some of the dastardly native chiefs, appeared in arms doubly strong. The venerable monarch, then in his eighty- third year, hastened to meet those old foes whom he had so often quelled before. A fierce engagement took place at Clontarf, near Dublin, 23rd April, 1014, in which the in- vaders were defeated with great slaughter ; but the good and aged monarch was himself treacherously slain in his tent, after having defeated the Danes, as historians assure us, in no less than fifty separate engagements. Thus died the illustrious Brian Boru, almost tlie last distinguished native monarch of Ireland, otjually celebrated as an en- lightened statesman, an able soldier, and an accomplished musician and bard.* The following elegiac composition * The following account of the fine old harp supposed to have been that of Brian, is from the first vohuno of tlio Dublin Penny Journal, which, notwithstanding its unassuming title, is enriched with the contiil)utions of some of the first Irish scliolars and antilayfully)~To Kate. To Kate — the devil's on your tongue, To scare me with such thoughts ; To her, oh, could I hazard wrong. Who never knew her faults. Echo — You're false. If thy Narcissus could awake Such doubts, he were an ass If he did not prefer the lake Tt) humouring such a lass. Echo — Alas ! A thousand sighs and rites of woe Attend thee in the air ; ' What mighty grief can feed thee so, In weariless despair 1 Echo — Despair. Despair — not for Narcissus' lot, Wlio once was tliy delight ; Another in his place you've got, If our report is right. jEc/w— 'Tis riglit. Dear little sorceress, farewell, I fear thou told'st mo true ; But HH thou'st many a tale to tell, 1 bid thee now adieu. Echo — Adieu. THE KINGS OF CASHEL. 189 One of the most, if not tlie most, voluminous A.D. of the poets of the fourteenth century -was John O'DuGAN, chief bard to O'Kelly of Hy Maine or Imania, an extensive district in Connaught. O'Dugan's works were jn-incipally historical and topographical. Among others were a metrical history of the ancient kings of Ire- land down to Roderick O'Conor, the last native monarch ; a poetical account of the principal tribes and districts of Meath, Ulster, and Connaught (which has been inserted piece-meal in the notes to O'Connellan's translation of the Anncds of the Fov,r Masters), and the chiefs who presided over them at the time of the Anglo-Norman invasion ; an account of the actions of the illustrious monarch Cormac Mac Art ; a poem on the principal festivals of the year ; a poetical glossary of obsolete words ; an account of the Kings of Leinster descended of Cathair Mor ; and an account of the kings of the race of Eibhear (Heber), comprising a sum- mary of the history of the kings of Cashel, from Core, who flourished about A.D. 380, to his own time. This last poem, consisting of eighty-one stanzas, was translated by Michael Kearney in 1635,* " to preserve that ancient Rhyme," as he states, "from the overwhelming flouds of oblivion, which already devoured most part our Nationall Memoraryes." This translation is now of course very quaint, and in itself a literary curiosity. We here subjoin the first stanza, with some of the concluding ones, the body of it being taken up with hard names and dry historical details : — Gassliell the Citty was of noble Mogha's Sonnes, Its spetious hewe so flourished ; From Corcke to Cormock Clurcaghe's Raignes, Their kinges that Pallace well nourished. * Published and edited by the Irish scholar, Mr. John Daly,- Dublin, 1847. 190 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Nineteen princes of a worthy race, Warlike, comely, and vigorous, Who never fail'cl to maintain the Church, Fell in the gory path of battle. Seven, — being eminently just, — Of those great kings, without a doubt. Neither feared nor avoided death, Received the blessed Viaticum, and died penitent. And they, likewise, reigned kings supreme, After Douihnall of the brown eye-brows. Over Munster of the streams, of the rich rough crops, And of the boughs drooping with loads of mellow fruit. The most important part of pleasant Eire, Is Munster of the mountain-studded plains, On account of her nobility, her wealth, Her store of precious stones, and the lionour her people support. I cannot conceal the good qualities of tlie men of Munster, In whom no flaw was ever found ; They were famed for lovo of freedom, comeliness of countenance, And loftiness of spirit. Tliuy were inured to war at all times. They were hospitable ami lilwral ; Tlieir liabits were calculated to win confidence, ijcing in strict conformity with those of their ancestors. BATTLE OF THE ROE. 191 Munster was also celebrated for the extent of her territory, For the superiority of her women above those of the other provinces, As well in the melody and cheerfulness of voice and charming features, As in the excellent arrangement of their dress. The two Munsters of the undulating plains, Are the most delightful provinces of Eire ; A country of fertile glebe, of well-sheltered dales, — 'Tis a province befitting the monarch of Eire. The death of the author, O'Dugan, is noted by the annalists in 1372. The battle celebrated in the following poem was A.D. foudit on the banks of the Roe, a river remarkable 1380. =■ n ■ T for the wild grandeur of its scenery, and in the vicinity of Dungiven in Derry, a locality which is also dis- tinguished as the place of meeting of the famous assembly of Drumkeat in 590. This battle is erroneously ascribed by Walker* to the close of the twelfth instead of the fourteenth century. It is stated to have been the last of the many desperate conflicts between the English forces and those of O'Cahan, or O' Kane, prince of the territory comprising the present county of Derry and some of the northern portion of Antrim, and that it resulted in the complete extinction of the power of the Clan Saxon, as they were termed by the natives, in that locality. If this be so, it was probably fought after the time of his capture in 137G. O'Cahan, whose family was one of great dignity, being a branch of the * Memoir on the Dress, Armour, Weapons, (Lx., of the Ancient Irish, 8vo edition. 192 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. O'Neills, acquired great renown by his military exploits, and was distinguished by the title of Coo-ey na G all, or Terror of the Strangers, attached to his name. A fine monument to this distinguished chieftain still exists in a good state of preservation in the ancient abbey of Dungiven, one of the most beautiful and romantically situated pile of ruins in the kingdom, an interesting sketch of which has been -furnished by the pen and pencil of our distinguished countryman. Dr. Petrie. " Dungiven," we are there in- formed, "was the burying-place of the sept of O'Cathan: .... the church and cemetery are filled with their graves. Their monuments, which are decorated usually with escut- cheons, &c., in no mean stylo of sculpture, are, however, with the exception of one, of little interest. It is an altar tomb of nuich architectural beauty, situated in the south side of the chancel, and traditionally known as the monu- ment of the chief of the O'Kanes, of great renown for his ojiposition to the inroads of the English, and hence called Coo-ey tut Gall. This hero is represented in armour, in the usual recumbent position, with one hand resting on his sword. On the front of the tomb are figures of six warriors scul2)tured in relievo. The age of this extraordinary monu- ment may be accurately ascertained. The stylo of its archi- tecture points unequivocally to the close of the fourteenth century ; and the name pi'eserved by tradition as that of the distinguished chief for whom it was erected is conspicuous in iiur national annals of that period."* In the Anudh of the Four Slaafcrti, under the date 137C, is recorded the capture of O'Cahan by the English at Cole- raine. Ho was conveyed to Carrickfergus Castle and there ♦ Dublin I'cnuy Junr7ial, vol. i., p. 404. THE BATTLE OF THE ROE. 193 imprisoned. Neither the period nor the mode of his libera- tion is mentioned, but, nine years later, his death is noted among the obituaries, at the height of prosperity and fame. The last chieftain of note of this family, being implicated in the alleged treasonable practices with O'Neill and O'Donnel, early in the reign of James I., fled with them to the Con- tinent in 1607, and his estates became forfeited to the Crown with theirs. A touching story is told of the venerable widow of the fallen chief. The Duchess of Buckingham, many years subsequently, having occasion to pass Limavady, was induced by curiosity to visit the ruins of the O'Cahans' demolished castle, where she discovered his unhappy widow in a condition characteristic of her fortunes, crouching beside the blaze of a few faggots in one of the ruined apartments of her once splendid residence, the broken casements of which were stuffed with straw.* THE BATTLE OF THE ROE. Loud the signal shield resounded, Shrill the horn of battle blew ; From the hill O'Cahan bounded. And along the valley flew. He, the Saxon power despising. Then their marshall'd strength withstood ; Then, in all his vengeance rising, Dyed his rivers with their blood. Towering in the front of danger, Ne'er by human power dismay 'd ; Then the Terror of the Stranger Drew his slaughter-seeking blade. * See Derry County Survey ; Dublin Penny Journal, vol. iii., p. 89 ; and O'Connellan's Four blasters, p. 23. o 194 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Bright the brandished weapon gleaming, Lightened as the chieftain pass'd ; Loose his rustling banner streaming Gave the trophies to the blast. All in vain, th'e ford defending. Firmly stood the Saxon band ; •Vain their spears, on spears extending, Lined with death the shelving strand. On his host, his red eye turning Ceased to flash upon his foes ; Breathing death, with vengeance burning, Thus O'Cahan's voice arose : — " Warriors, Heaven and justice speed you To the meed your might has won : Vengeance and O'Cahan lead you. Follow, wai'riors, and fall on." First to tempt the threat'ning danger. First to dare the guarded flood, Rush'd the Terror of the Stranger, Bathing deep his steel in blood. Falling ranks the carnage swelling, tStill tlieir post the foe maintaiu'd ; Still his pressing strength repelling, Trench'd behind tlieir fellows slain. Till iheir chief, in bli>')d extended, Pierced with wounds, resigned his breath ; Tlien tlie shout of conquest blended With tlie deei)'ning groan of death. Tlien triuiiii)]iant o'er each danger, All his thirst of l)lood allayed, Then the Terror of the Stranger ShcftthM liis slaughter-seeking blade. PARKNESS OF FIFTEENTH CENTURY. 195 The fifteenth century was a period of greater intellectual darkness, at least so far as poetry was concerned, than any which had preceded it— a night illumined by scarcely a single star. " The art of poetry," says the venerable O'Conor, " declined as the nation itself declined; some eminent poets indeed appeared from time to time, but diverted in most instances from the ancient moral and political uses to the barren subjects of personal panegyric." * One of the very few poetical productions of this period is supposed to have been written by the family bard of the Desmonds, on the incident which forms the subject of one of Moore's sweetest ballads— " By the Feal's wave be- nighted." The circumstance, which occurred about the commencement of the century under consideration, was briefly this. The youthful heir of Desmond having married Catherine, the beautiful daughter of one of his dependants named Mac Cormac, of whom he had become enamoured when resting in her father's house, after a hunting excursion at Abbeyfeale, in Co. Limerick, so outraged the feelings of his family and adherents by this inferior match, that, to escape the odium that it drew down upon him, he was forced into exile on the Continent, t The poet here cele- * Dissertations on Tlistori/ of Ireland — Dissertation 6. t The reader will remember the stanza of Moore's ballacl- " You who call it dishonour To bow to this flame, If you've eyes, look but on her, And blush while you blame. Hath the pearl less whiteness Because of its birth ? Hath the violet less brightness For growing near earth ?" 196 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. brates the fair one under the name of Deirdre, the famed beauty of Irish romance, whose fatal charms were the occasion of the tragic fate of the celebrated heroes, the three sons of Usnoth. BLOOMING DEIRDRE. A.D. 1400. TRANSLATED BY EDWARD LAWSON. Sweet Deirdre 'bove all else I prize — Such pearly teeth, such azure eyes ! O'er which, dispersed by zephyr's play. Dark shining, twining tendrils stray, In full luxuriant wreaths descending. Those small, soft, heaving orbs defending. Whose vestal snow no touch profane Of man has ever dared to stain. Like orient Venus, when she j^resses The brine from her ambrosial tresses, That down her sleek side glittering flows. Like dew-star on the milk-wliitc rose, The dreary tenants of the tide, With wondering gaze forget to glide ; Suspended in the liquid sky, The plumy warblers cease to fly, Choiring lier iiraiso to heaven above. Where slie'd depose the witching queen of love. Her tutelary power I hail, Thoiigii, like a cavern'd hermit pale. Hopeless I pine, accusing death. Whose barbarous shafts still spare my breath. DONALL o'mULCONRY. 197 A martyr to protracted anguisli, Like joyless, sapless age I languish ; Nor I'ead a line, nor time an air, To all indifferent — whelm'd in deep despair. The fascinating, white-arm'd maid By some enchantment has betray'd My hopeless bosom, which remains Wrapt in inextricable chains ; In charity she ought to heal The tortures that from her I feel . A poem of this period, written by Donall O'Mul- A||D. conry, chief bard to O'Brien of Thomond, though belonging to the class which it is the special object of this work to embody, is yet so prolix and discursive, and without any distinct and definite aim, that a small portion of it will perhaps satisfy the curiosity of the reader. It was an inauguration ode addressed to Turlogh O'Brien, who became chief of Thomond in 14G8. Almost the whole poem, consisting of fifty-seven stanzas, is taken up with an en- comium on the glories of Kincora, which, considering it was such an old story, and not the poet's immediate theme, might have sufficed with less — and, indeed, its praises would have been "more honoured in the breach than the ob- servance," seeing that the O'Briens had been among the earliest and steadiest adherents of the English interest. The poet also introduces Finn Mac Cumhal as a i)rophet, which, with all his renown, is perhaps the only instance on record of his appearing in that character, which was indeed altogether out of his line. But he is made, notwithstanding, to foretell the future renown of Brian, and also of a long subsequent descendant of his house, which gives the poet 198 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. an opportunity of indulging the hope that the present lord is to be the man ; and this, at the forty-seventh stanza, is the first notice, excepting a very slight one at the four- teenth, of the immediate subject of his eulogy. This poem bears in its manner some resemblance to Ward's beautiful Ode to the Ruins of Donegal Castle, a metrical version of which will be subsequently given ; but though not devoid of harmony and musical expression, in addition to the want of point, it is entirely deficient in the incompar- able simplicity and pathos of that exquisite production. The last few verses are the best of the poem, and are certainly rather impressive. ON THE INAUGURATION OF THE O'BRIEN. A.D. 14(J9. METRICAL VERSION BY J. C. MANGAN.* Oh, great Kincora ! 'tis my grief To gaze upon thy crumbling walls And chambers lone ! Tlio O'Briens now forget tlieir chief, And dwell, alas I in other halls. To him unknown. Of yore, at royal Brian's call, The hundred kings of Banba's isle Would thrcmg (liy rooms ; But now how strangely changed is all ! — Thy glories, O majestic pile. Arc turned to gloom ! Dtthlin University Magazine, vol. xxx., p. CCi. \ ON THE INAUGURATION OP THE o'bRIEN. 199 House of the drinking horns of old, Where chief and bard, with sword and lyre, So often met, "Wouldst thou thus mourn, all unconsoled, Were Morogli, or his regal sire. But reigning yet ? But what avails it now to dwell Upon the glories, long since fled, Of those great men ? Nought 1 though their names are still a spell, And Erin ne'er shall see, I dread. Such hosts agen. Still, royal Rath— wherein, long since. King Brian reigned, the conquering son Of Kennedy — Another host, another prince, Shall win thee what may yet be won, Shall rescue thee ! Too long, Kincora, dost thou abide A sad sepulchral solitude — Look cheerier now. And cast thy weeds of woe aside ; Thy glory shall shine out renewed, Thou loved one, thou ! New guards, new bards, new clansmen come ; Comes hither Turlogh, son of Teague, To hold his court : They make thy palace-halls their home, A brilliant band, a mighty league, Oh, once-proud Fort ! 200 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND, The Shannon, king of Erin's Hoods, For ever telleth, as a bell, Its love to thee ; While round thee bloom those walnut woods, So rich in copse and bowery dell, And flowery lea ! To Finn Mac Cool, the warrior sear. On these great heights was once revealed A wondrous tale — Finn, who, through many a stormy year. Stood forward as the tower and shield Of Innisfail ! The darker hours drew on apace ; So when the sun declined beneath The waves a-west, Finn ceased a while the bootless chase, And stretched hiui on the mountain heath, And sank to rest. Then, in the visions of the night, To him was Erin's fate foroshewn — He dreamed he saw A palace on Kincora's heiglit — A monarcli, too, before whose throne All bent in awe. He glanced around him. At a feast Siite silken dames and cliicfs in steel ; Rich music's mirth Rang loud — wlion suddenly, all ceased. He felt tliu palace rock and reel, Tlion fall to earth I ON TItE INAUGURATION OF THE o'bRIEN. 201 Again lie looked : — king, chiefs, dames, arms Were gone ; crushed lay the golden throne ; And, -woe-the-while ! Strange hosts of steel-frocked knights, in swarms. Tore up the lowest fountain stones Of that proud pile ! Anon, a change came o'er his dream. Fierce battle stalked in iron might Throughout the land. Thick lay the slain, till every stream Ran red with blood all day and night On either hand ! It was the glowing even-tide : — A light flashed from the west afar ; And swiftly came, Careering up the mountain side. A serried phalanx, like one star Of purple flame. And heading this combined array, A chieftain rode, whose headlong course None could withstand. With giant might he upheld the fray. And drove the invading foreign force From Erin's land ! Soon as the ruddy morning brake, Finn published this to all his bands, — The Fenian Lords ; And with jarophetic power he spake — (Let him who reads and understands Weigh well his words !) 202 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. "The mystery of the dream," said he, " I thus unveil : — in after time A chief shall rise — King Brian, son of Kennedy, — A mighty prince, of soid sublime, Great, brave, and wise. ' ' Long prosperously this king shall reign ; His golden throne shall stand in fair Kincora's hall ; — But, woe-the-day, he shall be slain, And, four-fold misery and despair, His house shall fall ! " And ten-fold woe to Innisfail ! A people shall o'cr-run her lands Bad, fierce, and strong. And fate shall overcome the Gael, By crafty counsels, ruffian hands, And fraudfal wronir I "And Tara and Kincora both Shall lie through centuries desolate ; And force and guile Shall tower to a gigantic growth. And alien tyranny and liato Shall rule the isle !"— But Erin's life-blood yet is warm,— Yea ! in this world of joy and woe God wills that l)]ooin Should chase decay, and sunsliiiio storm ; And freedom's torch at length shall glow Through Erin's gloom ! ON THE INAUGURATION OF THE O'BKIEN. 203 So, too, spake Finn : "A chief," he said, " Of Brian's line shall yet appear Whose mighty arm Shall raise the land, as from the dead, And drive a-far, like hunted deer, The stranger swarm ! "Long after Brian's day and sway A nut shall grow, of dazzling gold, Upon his tree !" — Thus far the seer. O Torlogh, say. Say, stalwart chief, do I behold That nut in thee ? And should we not remember, wo, Clontarf s great day ? If men will dare- And we are men ! — They will be and they must be free ! Can we not conquer here as there,, And HOW as then. ? Warm winds waft fragrance round our shores ; Gold fruit, from boughs o'er-laden, lies Among fair flowers ; Ships crowd our ports with choicest stores ; The seas are calm ; we have genial skies And gentle showers. The grass teems under the bright scythe ; The hills are ploughed even to tlieir tops. Why should not we Rejoice, then ? Why not sing as blithe As the young throstle in the copse ? We are not free ! ■204 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. I Thou, Torlogh, of a kingly race, Mayest now retrieve, redeem, restore, This fallen land ! Up, then, and recognise tliy place. And bare the avenging sword once more, And take thy stand ! Learning had now almost fled the island, or was only to be found within the secluded walls of the convent. The bards were no longer the favoured order, as in days of old ; they were a proscribed race.* The kings and chiefs whose deeds it had once been their pride to sing, were fallen from their high estate, like the mighty oaks prostrated upon their hills by the strife of the elements ; the halls that had once re- sounded to their minstrelsy were now silent and deserted ; and we may well imagine that they struck their harps only in some congenial solitude, in plaintive strains, to mourn over the deep desolation of their country, or, like the Israelites of old, hung them in despair upon the willows. The poetical spirit, however, was too deeply seated in the national mind to be wholly eradicated, even by the cruel persecutions to which the bards were exposed, and in the course of the sixteenth century it burst forth into a flame, " Like secret lire, which smouldering embers hide." The legislative sages >>i those times, imagining, no doubt, that, like Samson, their strength lay in their hair, enacted • By the Statute of Kilkenny, in the reign of Edward III., it was made penal to entertain any of the Irish bards, who had l)con in thf habit, it appoarw, of making their profession subservient, like Alfred of England, to political purposes. These proscriptivo measures wore renewed in almost every succeeding reign. PERSECUTION OF THE BARDS. 205 that the " Coolin," or flowing ringlets, in which they took so much pride, should be abolished, and would not even allow them the poor privilege of a moustache, but ordered that "the same be once at least shaven every fortnight." Even the gentle poet, Spenser, in whom a more enlightened and liberal mind might have been expected, recommended, in his "View of the State of Ireland," published in the year 1598, the utter extinction of the whole bardic order. " They seldom choose unto themselves," he complains, ' ' the sayings and doings of good men for the argument of their poems ; but whomsoever they find most lawless in life, most dangerous and desperate in all parts of his dis- obedience, him they set up and glorifie, and make him an example to the young men to follow. I have caused divers of these poems," he adds, " to be translated unto me, . . , and surely they savoured of sweet wit and good invention, . . , sprinkled with some pretty flowers of their natural device, which gave good grace and comeliness unto them, .... the which with good usage would serve to adorn and beautify virtue." This was surely praise enough from one of the greatest masters of song in any age, and he a professed enemy, and at a period when the bards had sunk so low. But though stripped of their hereditary honours, and no longer patronised in the mansions of the great, and though the chiefs whose praises they had been wont to sing were now prostrated, and not likely to relish in their present humiliation the theme of their former glory, yet did these sons of song still retain a powerful influence, and when occa- sion offered, would effectually call on their countrymen to k. ' Burst the base foreign yoke, as their sires did of yore, Or die like their sires, and endure it no more." Scott. 206 NATIVE POETEY OF IRELAND. Of this a striking instance occurred about this period. The Earl of Kildare, who had been called over to England to account for his administration, had appointed his son, the young Lord Thomas Fitzgerald, to act as lord deputy in his absence. It having been rumoured that the earl, on his arrival in London, had been committed to the Tower, and there beheaded, the young lord deputy, with the fire of the Gcraldine race, indignant at the insults heaped upon his family and his country, resolved on taking the field in de- fence of both. Collecting his adherents, he entered the metropolis, proceeded to the council, and, rushing into the hall, cast down the sword of state, as he thus addressed them — ' ' This sword of state is yours, not mine. I received it with an oath. I used it to your benefit. I should stain mine own honour if I turned it to your annoyance. I have now need of mine own sword, which I dare trust. As for this sword, it flattereth me with a painted scabbard ; but it hath indeed a jiestilent edge, batlicd in the Geraldines' blood. I am now none of Henry's deputies — I am his foe. 1 have more mind to meet him in tlie field than to serve him in office. " While the other lords remained mute and astonished at the chivalrous temerity of the young Geraldine, Cromer, who was both chancellor and primate, took him by the hand, and remonstrated with him, in the most soothing and affectionate terms, on the folly and n)adness of his rash attempt. The remonstrance might prol)ably liave had the desired effect ; but, uiifortunatoly, before reason had time to operate, a bard who was present broke forth into an extemporaneous rhapsody on the glory of tlie Geraldines, and the high destiny that awaited the i)rc3ent heir of the Ijouse ; and tlie young lord, hia passions thus roused, I'ushed from tliu hall to carry out his desperate enterprise. THE DOWNFALL OF THE GAEL. 207 The chief poetical names of the sixteenth century were : Maolin Oge Mac Bkodin, who was considered the first bard of his age ; O'Mulconry, the author of an admired piece, addressed to the chieftain O'Rourke, of Breifiny ; Teige Dall O'Higgin, brother to the Archbishop of Tuam ; and Fearflatha O'Gnive, chief bard to the O'Neills of Claneboy (Antrim), who formed one of the train of the great Shane O'Neill, when he paid his famous visit to the court of Elizabeth, in 1562. * The following spirited lament for the fallen fortunes of the Gael, or ancient septs of Ireland, was the production of this bard : — THE DOWNFALL OF THE GAEL. translated by S. (later, sir S.) FERGUSON, M.R.I. A. My heart is in woe, And my soul is in trouble, For the mighty are low, And abased ai-e the noble. The sons of the Gael Are in exile and mourning ; Worn, weary, and pale. As spent pilgrims returning ; * " O'Gnive (Aguew), bard of Claneboy in the reign of Eliza- beth, to whose court he accompanied Shano (O'Neill) the Proud, in 1562. In Mr. rianche's lately published Dissertation on British Costumes, is a representation of the Irish as they appeared in London, taken from a valuable print in the possession of the late Mr. Douce, and curiously illustrative of Camden's account of their appearance." 208 . NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Or men who, in flight From the field of disaster, Beseech the black night On their flight to fall faster ; Or seamen aghast, When their planks gape asunder, And the waves fierce and fast Tumble through in hoarse thunder ; Or men whom we see That have got their death omen : Such wretches are we In the chains of our foemen ! Our courage is fear. Our nobility vileness ; Our liope is despair. And our comeliness foulness. There is mist on our heads. And a cloud, chill and hoary, Of deep sorrow, sheds An eclipse on our glory. From Boyne to the Linn Has the mandate been given, That tlic children of Finn From their country l)o driven ; That tlie sons of the king — Oil, the treason and malice — Sliall no inori! ride I lie ring In tlicir iiwn native valleys ; THE DOWNFALL OF THE GAEL. 209 No more shall repair Where the hill foxes tarry, Nor forth in the air Fling the hawk at her quarry. For the plain shall be broke By the share of the stranger, And the stone-mason's stroke Tell the woods of their danger ; The green hills and shore Be with white keeps disfigured, And the moat of Rathmore Be the Saxon churl's haggard ; The land of the lakes Shall no more know the prospect Of valleys and brakes, So transformed is her aspect ; The Gael cannot tell. In the uprooted wildwood, And red ridgy dell. The old nurse of his childhood ; The nurse of his youth Is in doubt as she views him, If the pale wretch in truth Be a child of her bosom. We starve by the board. And we thirst amid wassail ; For the guest is the lord, And the host is the vassal. 210 NATIVE POETRY OP IRELAND. Through the woods let us roam, Through the wastes wild and barren ; We are strangers at home, We are exiles in Erin ! And Erin 's a bark O'er the wild waters driven ; And the tempest howls dark, And her side planks are riven ; And in billows of might Swell the Saxon before her — Unite — oh, unite, Or the billows burst o'er her ! * Incomparably the finest poetical production of this period, however, was by a non-professional poet. This was the noble maritime ode, written by a gentleman of the name of Maurice M'David Fitzgerald, on a voyage from Ireland to Spain. The translator remarks: "I should be accused of treason to the majesty of Horace (whose third ode was written on a similar occasion), did I say that he is surpassed by our Irish bard upon this subject ; — I shall nut, therefore, risk the censure ; but my readers are at liberty to do it if they please. "+ * " The remainder of the ori|,'inal, which becomes prolix, has been omitted." Tlie above lias been honoured with two versions besides the present -a literal translation in Charles O'Conor's DinHcrtatiotis on Jlistory of Ireland, and the metrical one by J. .7. Callinan, commencing — " How dimm'd is the Rlory that circled the Gael, And fall'n the high people of green Innisfail." t ReUquen of Irinh PoetDj, p. 17!). Fitzgerald's maritime ode. 211 FITZGERALD'S MARITIME ODE. TRANSLATED BY MISS BROOKE. Bless my good ships, protecting pow'r of grace ! And o'er the winds, the waves, the destin'd coast. Breathe, benign spirit I — let thy radiant host Spread their angelic shields ! Before us, the bright bulwark let them place. And fly beside us, through their azure fields ! O calm the voice of winter's storm ! Rule the wrath of angry seas ! The fury of the rending blast appease. Nor let its rage fair ocean's face deform ! check the biting wind of sjiring. And from before our course, Arrest the fury of its wing. And terrors of its force ! So may we safely pass the dang'rous cape. And fx"om the perils of the deep escape ! 1 grieve to leave the splendid seats Of Teamor's ancient fame ! Mansions of heroes, now farewell ! Adieu, ye sweet retreats, Where the fam'd hunters of your ancient vale. Who swell'd the high heroic tale. Were wont of old to dwell ! And you, bright tribes of sunny streams, adieu ! While my sad feet their mournful i)ath pursue, Ah, well their lingering steps my grieving soul procLiim ! 212 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Receive me now, my sliip ! — hoist now thy sails, To catch the favouring gales. O Heaven ! before thine awful throne I bend ! O let thy power thy servants now protect ; Increase of knowledge and of wisd(jm lend, Our course through every peril to direct ; To steer us safe through ocean's rage. Where angry storms their dreadful strife maintain ; O may thy power their wrath assuage ! May smiling suns and gentle breezes reign ! Stout is my well-built ship the storm to brave, Majestic in its might, Her 1)ulk tremendous, on the wave Erects its stately height ! From her strong bottom, tall in air, Her V)ranching masts aspiring rise ; Aloft their cords and curling heads they bear. And give their sheeted ensign to the skies ; While her proud bulk frowns awful on the main. And seems the fortress of the liquid plain ! Dreadful in the sliock of tight, tShe goes — slic cleaves the storm ! Where ruin wears its most tremendous form She sails, exulting in her miglit ; On tile fierce necks of foaming l)il]()\vs rides. And, tlirough llie ro.ir Of angry ocean, to the destined shore Her course triumi)liaut guides ; As thougli, lienuath lier frown, the winds were dead, And eacii bine valley was their silent l)ed I 'IMirmigJi ;ill tlic pt'rils of tlie main She knows her dauntless progress to maintain Fitzgerald's maritime ode. 213 Through quicksands, flats, and breaking waves, Her dangerous path she dares explore ; Wrecks, storms, and calms, alike she braves. And gains, with scarce a breeze, the wished-for shore! Or, in the hour of war. Fierce on she bounds, in conscious might, To meet the promis'd fight ! While distant far. The fleets of wondering nations gaze, And view her course with emulous amaze, As, like some championed son of fame, She rushes to the shock of arms. And joys to mingle in the loud alarms, Impell'd by rage, and fir'd with glory's flame. Sailing with pomp upon the watery plain, Like some huge monster of the main, My ship her speckled bosom laves, And, high in air, her curling ensign waves ; Her stately sides, with polish'd beauty gay, And gunnel, bright with gold's efi"ulgent ray. As the fierce griflan's dreadful flight. Her monstrous bulk appears, While, o'er the seas her towering height, And her wide wings, tremendous shade ! she rears. Or, as a champion thirsting after fame, — The strife of swords^tlie deathless name — So does she seem, and such her rapid course, Such is the rending of her force ; When her shai-p keel, where dreadful splendours play, €uts through the foaming main its li(pud way — Like the red bolt of heaven, she shoots along — Dire as its flight, and as its fury strong ! God of the winds ! O hear my pray'r ! Safe passage now bestow ; Soft, o'er the slumbering deep, may fair And prosperous breezes blow ! 214 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. O'er the rough rock and swelling wave, Do thou our progress guide ! Do thou from angry ocean save, And o'er its rage preside. Speed my good ship along the rolling sea, O Heaven ! and smiling skies and favouring gales decree Speed the high-masted ship of dauntless force, Swift in her glittering flight and sounding course ! Stately moving on the main, Forest of the azure plain ! Faithful to confided trust. To her promis'd glory just ; Deadly in the strife of Avar, Rich in every gift of peace, Swift from afar, In peril's fearful hour. Mighty in force, and bounteous in her power, She comes ; kind aid she lends. She frees her supplicating friends. And fear before her flies, and dangers cease ! Hear, blest Heav'n, my ardent prayer ! My ship — my crow — take us in thy care ! O may no peril bar our way ! Fair blow the gales of each propitious day ! Soft swell tlio floods, and gently roll the tides, Wliile from Dunboy, uloiig tlio smiling main, Wu sail, until tlie destined co;ist we gain. And safe in port our gallant vessel rides ! The seventeenth contuiy pi'oducod a goodly array of poetical gems. Among tlu; principal names of this period may bo mentioned the erudite Teige Mao Daky, Imrd of THE CONTENTION OF THE BARDS. 215 the O'Briens of Thomond ;* Lugad, or Louis, O'Clerv, of Tyrconell (Donegal) ; O'Hussey, of Orgiel, bard of the sept of Maguire, of Fermanagh ; the Wards, bards of the O'Neils and O'Donnells ; O'Connellan, O'Ryan, and many others too numerous to particularize. The two first were the rival leaders in the famous " Contention of the Northern and Southern Bards of Ireland," so spiritedly conducted about the year 1600, in which they respectively contended for the claim of the great northern and southern septs, particularly the O'Briens and O'Neills, to precedence. The various poems produced on this occasion were collected, under the title of the lomarba, and are not less valuable in a historical than a poetical point of view.f The following elegiac composition was written by Mal- MURRY Ward, son of the bard of Tyrconnell, on witnessing the ruins in which the celebrated Hugh Roe O'Donnell had left the castle of his ancestors, in 1601, in order to prevent it becoming a refuge for the enemy. * That this philosophic bard had not forgotten the former im- portance of his profession, " when," in the words of the venerable O'Conor, " it answered, in ancient time, so many good purposes of religion and government," we are assured by a poem which he addressed to his patron, O'Brien of Thomond : — " And though each loyal subject counsel bring, And, to avoid misrule, instruct the king ; Yet 'tis alone the bard's peculiar claim, As 'tis his only joy — his only aim — To draw the attention of his monarch's ear ; The bard's advice he 's always wont to hear." Theo. O'Flanigan. t Irish Minstrelsy, vol. ii., p. 345. 216 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. The life of Hugh Roe O'Donnell belongs to the romance of Irish history. His father, Hugh, was The O'Donnell, Prince of Tyrconnell, and his mother, daughter of M'Don- neU, Lord of the Isles. At a very early age he evinced great capacity and energy of character, and great ambition. To these traits he united a generous disposition, and a personal appearance noble and engaging in the highest degree — a combination of qualities which made him equally dreaded by the government, and popular among his own people, who regarded him as destined to achieve some great exjiloit. The consequence was a most unworthy and, as it proved, impolitic plot, devised by Sir John Perrot, the Lord Deputy, to secure the person of the young O'Donnell. For this purpose, in the year 1587, he fitted out a vessel laden vrith. Spanish wine, with orders to the commander to sail for some port in Donegal, and trade with the people in the assumed character of a Spanish merchant. Accordingly, directing his course to Lough S willy, he cast anchor ofi" the castle of the IM'Swineys, near Ratlimullen. The people of the castle and surrounding country were no way tardy in taking advantage of the unusually low price at which their favourite beverage was oflfered, and the report of the arrival soon spread to a distance. As was anticipated, the chief of the country, young O'Donnell, arrived at the castle to lay in a store, when a fresh order was sent for an additional supply for the chief and his train. The crafty connnander sent back w(^rd that his stock for sale was nearly exhausted, but that if the young prince and a few of his friends would come on board, he would entertain tliem with some prime sack, and the best ho had remaining. The bait took. O'Donnell, then only in his sixteenth year, embraced the proposal with HUGH ROE o'dONNELL. 217 boyish eagerness. He and a few of his friends immediately rowed oS to the vessel, where they were received with the utmost cordiality by their hospitahle entertainer. The mirth, revelry, and feasting soon commenced, and being well plied with potent drink, midnight found them in a state of profound oblivion. They were then deprived of any arms upon their persons. Having thus gained his object, the commander gave orders for the hatches to be closed, and the anchor to be weighed, and ere the morning's dawn his unconscious victims were on their way to the dungeons of Dublin Castle. In the latter part of 1591, however, after a confinement of better than three years in the castle tower, the prisoners effected their escape ; but the unhappy O'Donnell was again basely betrayed by his friend, Phelim O'Toole, who had formerly been his fellow- prisoner, and under the shelter of whose roof he now sought protection. Seldom has an act of greater baseness been recorded. The unfortunate youth, his hope of free- dom thus dashed by the hand of seeming friendship, was hurried back, heavily chained, and under stricter surveil- lance, to his cheerless dungeon, the gloom of which was no doubt aggravated by the bitter thought of the means of his renewed incarceration. A short time only elapsed, however, before he again efi"ected his escape, by the aid of a faithful follower, and fled to the Wicklow hills. He was accom- panied by his kinsmen and fellow-prisoners, two of the young O'Neills. It was in the depth of an unusually severe winter, and the tale of the sufferings they endured in their flight is touching in the extreme. Their progress was impeded by the thick drifting of the snow, which fell so heavily as to conceal almost every landmark, and thus they 218 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. pursued their devious way through thicket and copse, briar and brake, a task to which, from the effects of their long confinement, their strength was unequal. At length they could proceed no further. One of the O'Neills was seized with a torpid drowsiness, and " slept the sleep that knows no waking." O'Donnell got into a spot that afforded a temporary shelter, and the attendants were despatched to the residence of O'Byrne, whither they had been proceed- ing, to obtain assistance. When they returned with warm clothes and refreshments, they found O'Neill dead, and O'Donnell, though still alive, terribly frost-bitten. By O'Byrne they were most cordially received, and hospitably entertained. With his assistance, O'Donnell, when suffi- ciently recovered, notwithstanding the scouts which were abroad to intercept him, succeeded in reaching his own territory in safety. His arrival was hailed by all the septs and chiefs of the north with the utmost enthusiasm ; and he was unanimously chosen their leader, though he had not yet attained liis twentieth year. O'Donnell had suffered enough to rouse even one of a less ardent temperament ; and for about ten years he proved the ablest and most dangerous foe that ever the arms of England had to contend with in this country. He showed himself more than a match for the most experienced of Elizabeth's generals, and carried his triumphant arms to the very oxtrumitios of Munstcr. An unfortunate misunderstanding with O'Neill, however, on one occasion, proved fatal to his cause. On that occasion — the only one — he was routed, and forced to seek refuge in Spain, where he died, in 1602. TO THS RUINS OF DONEGAL CASTLE. 219 TO THE RUINS OF DONEGAL CASTLE. TRANSLATED BY JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN. O mournful, O forsaken pile, What desolation dost thou dree ! How tarnished is the beauty that was thine erewhile, Thou mansion of chaste melody ! Demolished lie thy towers and halls ; A dark, unsightly, earthen mound Defaces the pure whiteness of thy shining walls, And solitude doth gird thee round. Fair fort ! thine hour has come at length, Thine older glory has gone by. Lo ! far beyond thy noble battlements of strength, Thy corner-stones all scattered lie ! Where now, O rival of the gold Emania, be thy wine-cups all 1 Alas ! for these thou now hast nothing but the cold, Cold stream that from the heavens doth fall ! Thy clay-choked gateways none can trace, Thou fortress of the once bright doors ! The limestones of thy summit now bestrew thy base, Bestrew the outside of thy floors. Above thy shattered window-sills The music that to-day breaks forth Is but the music of the wild winds from the hills, The wild winds of the stormy North I 220 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. What spell o'ercame thee, mighty fort, Wliat fatal fit of slumber strange, O palace of the wine ! — O many-gated court ! That thou shouklst undergo this change 1 Thou wert, O bright-walled, beaming one, Thou cradle of high deeds and bold, The Tara of Assemblies to the sons of Con, Clan-Connell's Council-hall of old ! Thou wert a new Emania, thou ! A northern Cruachan in thy might — A dome like that which stands by Boyne's broad water now. Thou Erin's Rome of all delight ! In thee were Ulster's tributes stored, And lavish'd like the flowers in May ; And into thee were Connauglit's thousand treasures poured, Deserted though thou art to-day ! How often from thy turrets high, Thy purple turrets, have we seen Long lines of glittering ships, wlien summer time drcAv nigh, With masts and sails of snow-whito sheen ! How often seen, wlion gazing round From thy tall towers, tlio hunting-trains, Tlie l)lood-onlivoning chiise, the horseman and the liound. Thou fastness of a hinidred plains ! How often to Lliy Ijampiets l>right Wo have soon the strong-armed Gaols repair, And when the feast was over, onco again unito For bat,t.l(>, in tliy bass-court fair ! TO THE RUINS OF DONEGAL CASTLE. 221 Alas, for thee, thou fort forlorn ! Alas, for thy low, lost estate ! It is my woe of woes, this melancholy morn. To see thee left thus desolate ! ! there hath come of Connell's race A many and many a gallant chief, Who, if he saw thee now, thou of the once glad face ! Could not dissemble his deep grief. Could Manus of the lofty soul Behold thee as this day thou art. Thou of the regal towers ! what bitter, bitter dole. What agony would rend his heart ! Could Hugh Mac Hugh's imaginings Pourtray for him thy rueful plight. What anguish, O thou palace of the northern kings, Were his through many a sleepless night ! Could even the mighty Prince whose choice It was to o'erthrow thee — could Hugh Roe But view thee now, methinks he would not much rejoice That he had laid thy turrets low : Oh ! who could dream that one like him, One sprung of such a line as his, Thou of the embellished walls, would be the man to dim Thy glories by a deed like this ! From Hugh O'Donncll, thine own bi'ave And far-famed sovereign, came the blow ! By him, thou lonesome castle o'er the Esky's wave, By him was wrought thine overthrow ! 222 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELA>'D. Yet not because he wished thee ill Left he thee thus bereaven and void ; The prince of the victorious tribe of Dalach still Loved thee, yea, thee whom he destroyed ! He brought upon thee all this woe, Thou of the fair-proportioned walls. Lest thou shouldst ever yield a shelter to the foe, Shouldst house the black ferocious Galls !* Shouldst yet become in saddest truth A Dun-ud-Gnll'f — the stranger's own. For this cause only, strongliold of the Gaelic youth, Lie thy majestic towers o'erthrown. It is a drear, a dismal sight. This of thy ruin and decay. Now that our kings, and bards, and men of mark and might, Are nameless exiles far away ! Yet, better thou shuuldst fall, meseems, By thine own king of many thrones, Than that the truculent Galls should rear around thy streams Dry mounds and circles of great stones. As doth in many a desperate case The surgeon by the malady, So hath, O sliicld and bulwark of great Cotiey's race. Thy royal master done l)y thee ! The surgeon, if he bo but wise, Examines till lie learns and sees Wliero lies the fountain of liis patient's liualLh, where lies The germ and root of his disease ; " Foreigners." t " Fort of the foreigner. TO THE KXJINS OF DONEGAL CASTLE. 223 Then cuts away the gangrened part, That so the sounder may be freed Ere the disease hath power to reach the sufferer's heart, And so bring death without remead. Now, thou hast held the patient's place, And thy disease hath been the foe ; So he, tliy surgeon, O proud house of Dalach's race, Who should he be if not Hugh Roe ? But he, thus fated to destroy Thy shining walls, will yet restore And raise thee up anew in beauty and in joy. So that thou shalt not sorrow more. By God's help, he who wrought thy fall Will reinstate thee yet in pride ; Thy variegated halls shall be rebuilded all. Thy lofty courts, thy chambers wide. Yes ! thou shalt live again, and see Thine youth renewed ! Thou shalt outshine Thy former self by far, and Hugli shall reign in thee. The Tirconnellian's king and thine ! 'o Owen Roe Waed, bard to the O'Donnells, has left behind him an elegy on the melancholy death of Hugh O'Neill, the Earl of Tyrone, so celebrated by his successful opposition to the arms of Elizabeth, and Rory O'Donnell, Earl of Tyrconnell. These Ulster princes had fled from Ireland, in 1607, to escape a charge of conspiracy brought against them, on the authority of an anonymous letter dropped in tlie privy council, and both died shortly after, between 1608 and 1610, and were interred in one grave, on St. Peter's Hill, at Rome. On this charge, which was never proved 224 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. on good evidence, and which subsequent writers have asserted to have been a conspiracy against these princes, six counties of Ulster were confiscated and forfeited to the crown.* The mourner addressed in this exquisite elegy was the female relative of one of the princes. A LAMENT FOR THE TIRONIAN AND TIRCONNELLIAN PRINCES BURIED AT ROME.t METRICAL VERSION BX" JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN. Oh, woman of the piercing wail. Who mournest o'er yon mound of claj''. With sigh and groan. Would God thou wert among the Gael ! Thou wouldst not then, from day to day, Weep thus alone. 'Twere long before, around a grave, In green Tirconnell, one could find This loneliness. ***** * Dr. Anderson, an Englisli writer, as quoted by Mr. Hardiman, states — " Artful Cecil employed one Hit. Lawrence to entrap the Earls of Tyrone and Tyreonnell, the Lord of Delvin, and other Irish chiefp, into a sham plot, which had no evidence but his. But those chiefs, being basely informod that witnesses were to be hired against them, foolishly fled from Dublin, and so, taking guilt upon llioni, they were declared rebels, and six entire counties were at oncf forfeited to the crown, which was what their enemies wanted." t The present translation, including some verses here omitted, appeared in the Iri.^li I'cntnj Journal. LAMENT FOR O NEILL AND O'dONNELL. 225 Beside the wave in Donegal, In Antrim's glens, or fair Dromore, Or Killilee, Or where the sunny waters fall. At Asearoe, near Erna's shore, This could not be On Derry's plains — in rich Drumclieff — Throughout Armagh the great, renowned In olden years, No day could pass but woman's grief Would rain upon the burial ground Fresh floods of tears ! Oh no ! from Shannon, Boyne, and Suir, From high Dunluce's castle walls, From Lissadill, Would flock alike both rich and poor. One wail would raise from Cruachan's halls To Tara's hill ; And some would come from Burron-side, And many a maid would leave her home On Leitrim's plains, And by melodious Banna's tide. And by the Mourne and Erne, to come And swell thy strains ! * * -x- * From glen and hill, from plain and town, One loud lament, one thrilling plaint Would echo wide. There would not soon be found, I ween, One foot of ground among those bands For museful thought. So many shriekers of the keen* Would cry aloud, and clap their hands. All woe-distraught ! Caoine, the funeral wail. 226 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Two princes of the line of Conn Sleep in their cells of clay, beside O'Donnell Roe : Three royal youths, alas ! are gone, Who lived for Erin's weal, but died For Erin's woe !. Ah ! could the men of Ireland read The names these noteless burial- stones Display to view. Their wounded hearts afresh would bleed. Their tears gush forth again, their groans Resound anew ! Theirs were not souls wherein dull Time Could domicile decay, or house Decrepitude ! They passed from earth ere Manhood's prime- Ere years had power to dim their brows, Or chill their blood. And who can marvel o'er thy grief, Or who can blame thy flowing tears, That knows their source ? O'Donnell, Dunnasava'.s chief, Cut off amid his vernal years, Lies here a corse, Beside his Ijrothcr Cathbar, wliom Tirconnell of the Helmets moiu'us In deep despair — For valour, truth, and comely bloom, For all tliat greatena and adorns, A poorlusa pair. LAMENT FOR u'nEILL AND o'dONNELL. 227 Oh, had these twain, and he, the third, The Lord of Mourne, O Niall's son. Their mate in death — A prince in look, in deed, and word — Had these three heroes yielded on The field their breath, Oh, had they fallen on Criffan's plain, There would not be a town or clan From shore to sea, But would with shrieks bewail the slain, Or chant aloud the exulting rann'* Of jubilee ! When high the shout of battle rose On fields where freedom's torch still burned Through Erin's gloom, If one, if barely one of those Were slain, all Ulster would have mourned The hero's doom ! If at Athboy, where hosts of brave Ulidian horsemen sank beneath The shock of spears. Young 'Hugh O'Neill had found a grave. Long must the North have wept his death With heart- wrung tears ! If on the day of Ballach-myre The Lord of Mourne had met, thus young, A warrior's fate, In vain would such as thou desire To mourn, alone, the champion sprung From Niall the Great ! Song. 228 . NATIVE POETKY OF IRELAND. No marvel this — for all the dead Heaped on tlie field, pile over pile, At Mullach-brack, Were scarce an eric* for his head, If Death staid his footsteps while On victory's track ! * If on the day the Saxon host Were forced to fly — a day so great For Ashanee,t The chief had been untimely lost, Our conquering host should moderate Their mi^'thful glee. There would not lack on Lifford's day, From Galway, from the glens of Boyle, From Limerick's towers, A marshalled file, a long array Of mourners, to bedew the soil Witli tears in showers ! If on the day a sterner fate Compelled liis flight from Athenree, His blood liad flowed. What numbers all disconsolate Would come unasked, and share witli thee Affliction's load ! ff Derry's crimson tiold liad seen His life-blood otlered up, though 'twere On victory's shrine, A thousand cries would swell the keoi, — A tliousand voices of despair Woidd echo thine ! A compcusatioD or Hue. t liallyshauuou. LAMENT FOR O'nEILL AND o'dONNELL. 229 Oh, had the fierce Dalcassian swarm That bloody night on Fergus' banks But slain our chief, When rose his canip in wild alarm, How would the triumph of his ranks Be dashed with grief ! How would the troops of Murbach mourn, If on the Curlew mountains' day, Which England rued, Some Saxon hand had left them lorn, By shedding there, amid the fray, Their jDrince's blood ! Red would have been our warriors' eyes, Had Roderick found on Sligo's field A gory grave. No northern chief would soon arise So sage to guide, so strong to shield, So swift to save. Long would Leith-Cuinn have wept, if Hugh Had met the death he oft had dealt Among the foe ; But had our Roderick fallen too, All Erin must, alas ! have felt The deadly blow ! What do 1 say? Ah, woe is me ! Already we bewail in vain Their fatal fall ! And Erin, once the great and free, Now vainly mourns her breakless chain, And iron thrall ! Then, daughter of O'Donnell, dry Thine overflowing eyes, and turn Thy heart aside, For Adam's race is born to die, And sternly tlie sepulchral urn Mocks human pride ! 230 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Look not, nor sigh, for earthly throne. Nor place thy trust in arm of clay, But on thy knees Uplift thy soul to God alone, For all things go their destined way As He decrees. Embrace the faithful crucifix, And seek the path of pain and prayer Thy Saviour trod, Nor let thy spirit intermix With earthly hope and worldly care Its groans to God ! And Thou, O mighty Lord ! whose ways Are far above our feeble minds To understand, Sustain us in these doleful days. And render light the chain that binds Our fallen land I Look down upon our dreary state. And through the ages that may still Roll sadly on, Watch thou o'er hapless Erin's fate. And shield at least from darker ill The blood of Conn ! The contrast is very striking Ijetween the conduct of Elizabeth (though a daughter of Henry VIIL) towards tlicso princes, only requiring their submission, with the title of Earls, after ten years of successful opposition to her arms, until tlieir final defeat, and that of tlio first of tlio Stuarts in confiscating their territory, without any overt act, merely on tlie authority of an anonymous letter. It forms a curious commcntai-y (m tlie fidelity of tlie Trisli people tf> the Stuart race. o'hussey's ode to the maguire. 231 O'HussEY, the last hereditary bard of the great sept of Maguire, of Fermanagh, who flourished about 1630, pos- sessed a fine genius. O'Hussey commenced his vocation when (juite a youth, by a poem celebrating the escape of the famous Hugh Roe O'Donnell from Dublin Castle, in 1591, into which he had been treacherously betrayed, as already noticed. The noble ode which O'Hussey addressed to Hugh Maguire, when that chief had gone on a dangerous expedition, in the depth of an unusually severe winter, is as interesting an example of the devoted afiection of the bard to his chief, and as vivid a picture of intense desola- tion, as could be well conceived. The present version, the only metrical one that has appeared, is one of those made expressly for the former edition of this work. O'HUSSEY'S ODE TO THE MAGUIRE.* TRANSLATED BY JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN. Where is my Chief, my Master, this bleak night, movrone ? O, cold, cold, miserably cold is this bleak night for Hugh, Its showery, arrowy, speary sleet pierceth one through and through, Pierceth one to the very bone ! Rolls real thunder ? Or, was that red livid light Only a meteor ] I scarce know ; but, through the mid- night dim The pitiless ice-wind streams. Except the hate that per- secutes him, Nothing hath crueller venomy might. * Mr. (later, Sir S.) Ferguson, in a fine piece of criticism on this poem, remarks : " There is a vivid vigour in these descriptions, and a savage power in the antithetical climax, which claim a character 232 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. An awful, a tremendous night is this, me-seems ! The floodgates of the rivers of heaven, T think, have been burst wide — Down from the overcharged clouds, like unto headlong ocean's tide, Descends grey rain in roai'ing streams. Though he were even a wolf ranging the round green woods, Though he were even a pleasant salmon in the unchainable sea, Though he were a wild mountain eagle, he could scarce bear, he. This sharp sore sleet, these howling floods. Oh, mournful is my soul this night for Hugh Maguire ! Darkly, as in a dream, he strays ! Before him and behind, Triumphs the tyrannous anger of the wounding wind. The wounding wind, that burns as fire ! It is my bitter grief — it cuts me to the heart — That in the country of Clan Darry this should be his fate ! Oh, woe is me, where is he? Wandering, houseless, desolate. Alone, without or guide or chart ! almost approachingto sublimity. Nothing can be more graphic, yet more diversified, than his images of unmitigated horror — nothing more grandly startling than his heroic conception of the glow of glory triumphant over frozen toil. We have never read this poem without recurring, and that by no unworthy association, to Napoleon in his llussian campaign. Yet, perhaps, O'Hussey has conjured up a picture of more inclement desolation, in his rude idea of northern horrors, than could be legitimately employed by a poet of the present day, when the romance of geographical ob- scurity no longer permits us to imagine the Phlcgrean regions of endless storm, where the snows of ILumus fall mingled with the lightnings of Etna, amid Bistonian wilds or Hyrcanian forests.'' —Dublin University Magazine, vol. iv. o'hussey's ode to the maguire. 233 Metlreams I see just now his face, the strawberry -bright, Uplifted to the blackened heavens, while the tempestuous winds Blow fiercely over and rcjund him, and the smiting sleet- shower blinds The hero of Galang to-night 1 Large, large affliction unto me and mine it is, That one of his majestic bearing, his fair, stately form, Should thus be tortured and o'erborne — that this unsparing storm Should wreak its wrath on head like his ! That his great hand, so oft the avenger of the oppressed. Should this chill, churlish night, perchance, be paralyzed by frost, While through some icicle-hung thicket — as one lorn and lost — He walks and wonders without rest. The tempest-driven torrent deluges the mead, It overflows the low banks of the rivulets and ponds — The lawns and pasture-grounds lie locked in icy bonds, So that the cattle cannot feed. The pale bright margins of the streams are seen by none. Rushes and sweeps along the untamable flood on every side — It penetrates and fills the cottagers' dwellings far and wide — Water and land are blent in one. Through some dark woods, 'mid bones of monsters, Hugh now strays. As he confronts the storm with anguished heart, but manly brow — Oh ! what a sword-wound to that tender heart of his were now A backward glance at peaceful days ! 234 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. But other thoughts are his — thoughts that can still inspire With joy and an onward-bounding hope the bosom of Mac Nee — Thoughts of his warriors charging like bright billows of the sea, Borne on the wind's wings, flashing fire ! And though frost glaze to-night the clear dew of his eyes. And white ice-gauntlets glove his noble fine fair fingers o'er, A warm dress is to him that lightning-garb he ever wore. The lightning of the soul, not skies. Hugh marched forth to the fight — I grieved to see him so depart ; And lo ! to-night he wanders frozen, rain-drenched, sad, betrayed — But the memory of the Um^ivhite WMnsions his right hand hath laid In ashes warms the hero's heart ! The great body of the poetical productions from this period are tinged with the political spirit of the times, which for better than lialf a century were murlced by a succession of great and stirring events, in all of wliich Ireland took a conspicuous part, and always on the unsuc- cessful side ; — first, against the usurpation of Cromwtll ; next, in favour of tlic last of the Stuarts, at the Revolution ; and again, in fjivour of the Pretender, in the several abortive attempts made for tlie restoration of his fated ♦ A concUuliug stanza, generally intended as a recapitulation the entire poem. of the entire poem FIDELITY TO THE STUAETiS. 235 race. The chivalrous fidelity with which the people of this country adhered to the fallen fortunes of the Stuarts, con- sidering how little they owed them, is, indeed, surprising. No doubt their leaning to the religious faith of the people was the chief ground of their attachment. But, in addition to this, there was superadded the tie of descent from the ancient princes of Ireland, which James I., previous to his accession to the British throne, had taken great pains to disseminate. Their claims, therefore, however slight they might be personally, appealed to the strong national, as Avell as the religious, feelings of the Irish people. Hence the numerous songs, termed Jacobite, are written in a spirit which the general reader might well be at a loss, at first, to comprehend ; for while they breathe the utmost animosity against British rule, they are enthusiastic in aspirations for the return of the exiled family, recognising in them the descendants of their ancient kings. It was formerly noticed that, in the time of Henry Vlil., an order was issued, among many others, with reference to the persons and costume of the native inhabitants, pro- hibiting the custom of wearing the "Coolin," or flowing ringlets, in which they took so much pride. It was on this occasion tlijxt one of the bards composed the fine melody which goes by that name. Among the many verses to which this famous air has been wed at different times, the most popular are attributed to a bard named Maurice O'DuGAN, who flourished about the middle of the century under review. 236 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. THE COOLIN. TRANSLATED BY SAMUEL (LATER, SIR S.) FERGtrSON, M.R.J. A. Oh, had you seen the Coolin Walking down by the cuckoo's street, With the dew of the meadow shining On her milk-white twinkling feet — Oh, my love she is, and my colleen oge, And she dwells in Bal'nagar ; And she bears the palm of beauty bright From tlie fairest that in Erin are. In Bal'nagar is the Coolin, Like the berry on the bough her cheek ; Brighty beauty dwells for ever On her fair neck and ringlets sleek : Oh, sweeter is her mouth's soft music Than the lark or thrush at dawn. Or the blackbird, in the greenwood singing Farewell to the setting sun. 'o Rise up, my boy, make ready My horse, for 1 forth woukl ride, To follow the modest damsel, Where she walks on the green hill-side ; For ever since our youth'were we jjlighted In faith, trotli, and wedlock true — Oh, she 's sweeter to me, nine times over, Than organ or cuckoo ! '»■ Oh, over since my childhood I loved the fair and darling child ; But our people came between us, And with hicre our i)uro love defiled Oh, my woe it is, and my l)ittor pain. And I weep it niglit and day, Tliat tlie colK'un l)a\vn of my early love Is torn from my hoart away. JOHN o'dWYER of the GLEN. 237 Sweetheart and faithful treasure, Be constant, still, and true ; Nor, for want of herds and houses, Leave one who would ne'er leave you : I 'd pledge you the blessed Bible, Without and eke within. That the faithful God will provide for us, Without thanks to kith or kin ! Another popular, though somewhat allegorical, lyric of this period, seems as if timed to the movements, and conveys the impressive solemnity, of a dead march. It was composed on a military leader, whose name it bears, who had distinguished himself in the southern counties, when, along with his followers, he took his departure for Spain, after the defeat of the royal adherents, and the sanguinary successes of the parliamentary forces in Ire- land : — JOHN O'DWYER OF THE GLEN. TRANSLATED BY THOMAS FURLONG, Blithe the bright dawn found me, Rest with strength had crown'd me, Sweet the birds sung round me, Sport was all their toil. The horn its clang was keeping, Forth the fox was creeping. Round each dame stood weeping. O'er the prowler's spoil. 238 Is'ATIVE POETRY OF IRELAXD. Hark, the foe is calling, Fast the woods are falling, Scenes and sights appalling Mark the wasted soil. War and confiscation Curse the fallen nation ; Gloom and desolation Shade the lost land o'er. Chill the winds are blowing, Death aloft is going, Peace or hope seems growing For our race no more. Hark, the foe is calling. Fast the woods are falling. Scenes and sights appalling Throng the blood-stained shore. Nobles, once liigh-liearted, From their homes have parted, Scattered, scared, and started, By a base-born band. Spots that once were cheering, Girls beloved, endearing. Friends from whom I'm steering. Take this parting tear. Hark, the foe is calling, Fast the woods are falling. Scenes and sights appalling Plague and haunt me here. TUE ROMAN VISION. 239 A production of the period, called "The Roman Vision," written about 1650, would be a really fine historical poem, were it not so deeply tinged with the virulent sectarian and party spirit, so similar in all ages and all parties, which infects with an odious taint whatever it touches. It is true the times were such as to produce strong feelings, and afibrd a palliation for an equally strong expression of them. The poet, Owen Roe Mac an Bhaird (Ward), sup- poses this vision to occur at Rome, over the grave of the Earls of Tyrone and Tyrconnell, previously noticed. After deploring the condition of the kingdom, and taking a rapid glance at the successive reigns from that of Henry VIII. downwards, he proceeds to sketch, with great spirit and power, the progress of the civil war, dwelling particularly on the exploits of the famous Irish general, Owen Roe O'Neill. In order to the understanding of the poem, it may be mentioned that the author was a strenuous supporter of Rinuncini, the pope's Nuncio, whose ai'rival in the country was the means of causing a breach between the Celtic and Anglo-Irish Catholics — the latter of whom the poet de- nounces as the authors of the misfortunes of the nation, and the sanguinary successes of Cromwell : — THE ROMAN VISION. TRANSLATED BY HENRY GRATTAN CURRAN. No idle fiction this ! too sadly true Upon my wasting eyes the vision grew ; Too well my ears drank in the heavy sound. Give it, ye winds, swift proclamation round. Lonely I strayed on Cepha's golden hill, And memory came, my heart and eyes to fill. While o'er the stone that shrouds the Gael in dust, Bending, I mourned their country's fallen trust. 240 XATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. * * * * There slept Tyrone, proud scion of the O'Xiall race, There too, O'Donnell, was thy resting-place, Thou of the glittering blade ! I brushed away The mournful tribute to a better day — When, lo, a nymph, whose brow, whose bosom's sheen. Might shame the grace of beauty's fabled queen, Came o'er the hill ; her towering forehead bore The impress of high thought — like molten ore Gushed the gold ringlets o'er its polished plane : Her cheek of snow confest one rose's stain ; She spoke, and vain, in sooth, were minstrel skUl To bid the chord such liquid sweets distil. Her hands uplift to heaven, her streaming eyes Raised with her fervid accents to the skies ; In words half broken by the labouring groan, She poured her sorrows to the eternal throne. Say, thou Supreme, in pity dost thou deign To bend thine ear, while suppliant I complain ? Or darkoneth thy brow ? since mortals still Should hail, nor dare to scrutini^co thy will. But deep and darkling doubts beset my soul ; For if one primal taint pervade the whole Of the first parents' l)lightod race, and all Are falleu alike with the first woman's full. Dread ruler ! why doth the tremendous meed Crush, with unequal force, the doomed seed ? Why ddtli tlie sinless bosom tinge tlie dart That sliould liave (juivorcd to the guilty heart? Why groan the lowly poor, while wealth and pride Triumphant o'er the waves of fortune ride ? Sliall they whoso hearts confess thee lioly, weep Outcast, proscribed, and shall thy vengeance sleep? THE ROMAN VISION. 241 Say why doth Erin weep ? what crime incurs Thine ear averted ? Wilt thou look down in mercy ? — say, oh say ! Or is thine ear for ever turned away ? And while the trusting spirit bends to thee, Shall ruthless tyrants bow the neck, the knee ? ■Jf ■}(■ * -Sf Can we forget Elizabeth ? Oh, never — In Heber's heart she'll rankling live for ever ; The land grew waste beneath hei' — sex or age Yielded no shelter from her bigot rage. Till — bloodiest consummation — Mary fell, To close her long account, but not the spell That claimed her ruthless ministry ; her sway Devolved on James, and Phelim's land can say How well the tyrant's sceptre graced his hand — The " measuring chain " he cast upon the land — Her nobles plundex^ed for an alien race, And with unhallowed rites defiled thy holy place. Lo, next — his father's every taint and crime Expanded in his soul's congenial clime — His son succeeded, to embalm his fame By deeds which let Leith Moath, Leith Cuin proclaim. Spoiled of the rights long held from sire to son, Their arms, and every glorious meed they won ; Of rank, of wealth, and — damned, foul decree — Spurned from the shrines where they had knelt to thee The very tongue, thy gift, in which they poured Their souls, while at thy altars they adored, Condemned to rudest jargon to give place. For every woe he wrought upon her race. The bitterness of Erin's heart ran o'er In curses on the despot ; and he wore R 242 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. No amulet against the bolt that sped, Retributive, to his deA^oted head. 'Twas a divine behest 1 high justice spoke, And the pale tyrant's wily minions broke Their hollow fealty ; and the block and blade Brought the stern quittance of man's rights betray'd. Yet ere it fell, to blast his glazing eye, Maguire had tossed his banner to the sky— Freedom's high priest ; and kindling Ulster saw Mac Mahon soon assert her bounteous law ; Last of the Finians, in whose ample mind The gifts of his long lineage shone combined ; Of gentlest nature both, yet, thus pursued, Two lions chafing in their might they stood ; Nor lured Ijy concjuest, nor athirst for fame, Their rallying-word was the Eternal name. ^ * * * Nor yet unmarked by glory, Phelim's name, Proud soul, and fitly shrined in such a frame ! Tfr -^^ * * But see, what steadier lustre wins her gaze Where, from Hispania's coast, O'Neill displays His standard wide, and eager to sustain Pours his proud chivalry atliwart the main. " Eogan the Red !"* — to freedom's strife he flies, To veil the lustre of his vast emprise With deeds of higher prowess— Cttrmac's blood Bounds in the liero's heart — a tameless flood ; And all his grandsirc's soul of flame hv bears^ Attest it many a trophy that lie wears, * Tlio celebrated general, Owen Roc O'Neill. THE ROMAN VISION. 243 The harvest of his hand in many a strife, Waged in the tender spring-time of his life ; And when tlie greenness of his age went by, The deeds he did are registered on high ; Those rife with living proofs let Spain avow, Almania, richest wreath on Caesar's brow ; Let France, the weeping Netherlands attest ; And oh ! beyond them all, the brightest, best. Let the Milesian race his glories tell ; Let Erin's voice the volumed record swell, * * * * Scarce the i)roud capital his course arrests. While her high wall the girding fire invests — Meath mourns the slaughter of her changling race ; Portlester's thousands, where is now their place ? * * * * The echoing hills proclaimed to Inis-Con His spreading conquests ; Waterford o'erthrown ; Duncannon's waters in his course were dyed ; Wexford's keen blade hung useless by her side ; Nor Ross M'Truin, Ben Edar, stayed his tread ; Kilkenny bowed to him — his myriads spread By Shannon's ample tide tlieir long array ; The Avonmore was chequered with the play Of his broad banners — by the Nore they stood, And by the sedgy Bai-row's headlong flood — The Suir ran purpled with the stream of life ; Lough Erne rolled back proud tidings of the strife : From Meane's high dome triumphant strains arose, And Erin's centre caught the exulting close ; Thence to Beei'haven rolled the whelming tide, And well might Sligo's unsupported pride Di'oop at the sound of James'town's shattered wall, Whose circling echoes thundered to appal. 244 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Hail to the conqueror, by the Gael upborne (Bound these high hearts from shackles lately worn). Mark, the proud flame his martial deeds avow Burns in his breast, irradiates his brow ; Nor only battle's sterner lights illume, There mercy smiles away impending doom, From vanquished valour— and the warrior's eye. As fixed dominion calm, hath ne'er been dry O'er others' woe ; and wise, albeit not yet On his young brow had thought her impress set. He weighs mankind, and, learning to appraise, Hath learned to feel for frailty while it strays. Strong as its iron mail, that kindling breast To meek-eyed Ruth aflbrds a shrine of rest. In council sage ; in battle's fiery glow Like the launched thunder 'mid the astonished foe. And oh ! when peace her gentle plume hath*spread, Mild as the melting tear that mourns the dead ; Witness, high Heaven, if yet his eagle gaze Glared out to blast — no raven brood would raise A wing, the sky-built eyry to invade : Nor thus had cold succumbency betrayed The land to Cromwell's sanguinary sway. * * * * O great heart ! Proud gem of nature, so matured by art, Had genius, culture, all, thou costly prey, But decked theo for the tomb ? tliou envious clay, Oh, what a mind thy leaden sleep hatli bound ; Pure as pervading lucid as profound ! THE ROMAN VISION. 245 Great spirits, fare you well ! with mute regret I gaze upon you, but my cheek is wet— My tears shall number you ; almighty power ! We had not dreamed of this disastrous hour. Bercan, Senan, our ancient prophets, saw The dread revealings of thy mystic law ; Thy truth the breast of pious Kierian warmed, Sage Columb's* lips thy spirit, Lord, informed — Nui'tured with heavenly food, all these foreknew Thy dispensations — but they bade us not To deprecate this dark impending lot ! They said not "burning tears shall overflow, Dark days shall come upon thee ; shame and woe The reeking phial of a tyrant's hate Shall waste thee, and thou shalt be desolate ; No joy or hope shall visit thy cold breast. Till reason reel, with the huge weight opprest ; And thy soul, seared beneath the chastening rod, Shall almost curse the high behest of God " — And yet the burning tear had steeped my cheek. And every pang tliat tyranny could wreak ; Shame, anguish, — all, save madness and despair. To freeze my accents, or to warp my prayer. All have I known ; lost all ; Oh God ! my trust ! Faith only lives to I'aise me from the dust. Father of mercies ! Oh, forgive the thought That dared impugn thy fiat — if our lot Have been a dark one, if defeat have bowed, And trouble girded us as with a shroud. * According to tradition, Columbkille foretold the invasion of Ireland. 246 NATIVE POETRY OF IKELAIsD. Not thine the cruelty, but ours the crime That stirred thee, slow to vengeance ; in their jirime. Though sunk our thousands, Lord, we kiss the hand Stretched, not to desolate, but purge the land. Weigh well the lesson, ye surviving few, Your countrj^'s hope, its moral points to you ; Scan the monition well, for it imparts How human fate is shaped bj^ human hearts ; * * * * . The deep, the dauuiing stains of cold deceit, With virtuous seeming cloked — the deep retreat Of the shut soul, with foulest treason rife — These stains were yours — say not the hand of God Hath armed the despot with an iron rod. Degenerate spirits ! while my glazing eye Dwells on these pliantoms — when 1 hear the cry, The long, low cry, whose quivering accents come Back on me now — when I remember some, True to the land, which glory had caressed, And learning diguitied, and aliluence blessed — But for the mean, malignant souls that strove. By petty jealousies, and mean self-love, And rankest perlidy, to render nought The teeming promise of tlie deeds they wrought : Scarce can my lips the struggling curse repress On those who marred it into wilderness. Weep for the treason I weep for the high race. Its lordly victims ; * * ♦ * * * * Oh, wliat a laml)ent glory kindles now. Chasing tlie sliadows from lerne's brow. * * * * THE ROMAN VISION. 247 A vigorous race her children stand around, Free as the billows, mighty as their l)ound. Lo ! where the opening clouds reveal a form Tranquil as sunshine — stately as the storm. Peace o'er the prospect waves her mantling wing, And bards, in Erin's tongue, her triumjihs sing. God of my hope ! thou seest my soul's distress — My tears— my anguish— God of mercy ! bless This union of the Gael ! These suppliant accents breathed, all wildly clung The maiden's hands, in holy transport wrung ; Her upraised brow with heaven's effulgence shone, Then sudden wrapt from earth, the nymph was gone— And solitude was on me, and the thought Darker tlian solitude ; in vain I sought. With straining eye, to catch the lustrous hue Of her unearthly vesture, as she flew ; And I was left alone with my despair. Weeping the mighty hearts that mouldered there. Adieu to her, who poured beside the toml) That wondrous tale of mingling joy and gloom. Dear maid ! blest tale ! on every tear you drew Sweet hope looked down — my soul remembers you. The confiscation of the territories of O'Neill and O'Donnell, and the settlement of Ulster (which has been considered a brilliant success), in the beginning of the seventeenth century, stood pretty much in the relation of cause and effect to what is called the Great Rebellion, near the middle of it, to which the poet refers . 248 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. One of the most eminent minstrels of this period was Thomas O'Conellan, who united to the most unrivalled skill on the harp high excellence as a jjoet, though, un- fortunately, we must take this opinion upon the authority of his contemporaries. Conellan, as we learn from the "Bardic Remains," was born in the county Sligo, in the early part of the seventeenth century, of which he lived to see the close. Few particulars are known of his history. Many of his melodies were introduced into Scotland by the bard's brother, Lawrence O'Conellan, and have since con- tinued, under different titles, among the most popular airs of what has been termed Scotch music. Of these may be mentioned "The Battle of Killiecrankie," and "Farewell to Lochaber" — the original titles of which were " Planxty Davis," and "Tlie Breach of Aughrim." An ode, written with great spirit and elegance, in eulogy of O'Conellan's minstrelsy, by one of his contenii)oraries, has been pre- served, and is here introduced in the absence of any specimens of his own poetic powers : — ODE TO THE MINSTREL, O'CONELLAN.* translated by SAMUEL (LATER, SIR S.) FERGUSON, M.R.I. A. Enchanter, wlio ruignest Su])reme o'er tlio n(jrth, And liast wiled the sole sjjirit Of true music fortli ;' In vain E)ir()pe's minstrels Tu honour aspire, When tliy swift, slondor fingers Oo forlli on tlu' w ire. Tlio present is one of three versions of this ode. EDMOND o'rYAN's LOVE ELEGY. 249 There is no heart's desire Can be felt by a king That thy hand cannot match, from The soul of the string, By the sovereign virtue And might of its sway. Enchanter, who steal from The fairies your lay ! Enchanter, I say, For your magical skill Can soothe every sorrow, And heal every ill ; "Who hear you, they praise you. They weep while they praise ; For, charmer, you steal from A fairy your lays ! Edmond O'Ryan, or Ned of the Hills, as he was called, a very noted person in his day, and one of the unhappy victims of the Revolution, who lost their property by follow- ing the fortunes of the last of the Stuarts, has left some pieces of elegiac poetry of great beauty. The author, who, after his loss of property, was forced to become the chief of a band of the daring freebooters termed Rapparees, appears, from the following tender effusion, to have been forsaken by his mistress for a more fortunate lover : — EDMOND O'RYAN'S LOVE ELEGY. TRANSLATED BY MISS BROOKE. Bright her locks of beauty grew. Curling fair, and sweetly flowing ; And her eyes of smiling blue, Oh ! how soft, how heavenly glowing ! 250 . NATIVE POETRY OF IKELAND. Ah ! poor plunder'd heart of pain ! When wilt tliou have end of nunirning 1 This long, long year I look in vain To see my only hope returning. Oh ! would thy promise faithful prove, And to my fond, fond bosom give thee : Lightly then my steps would move, Joyful should my arms receive thee. Then, once more, at early dawn, Hand in hand we should be straying. Where the dew-drop decks the thorn, With its pearls the woods arraying. Cold and scornful as thou art, Love's fond vows and faith belying, Shame for thee now rends my heart, My pale cheok witli blushes dying. Why art tliou false to mo and love i? (Wliile health and joy with thee are vanish'd) Is it because forlorn 1 rove. Without a crime unjustly banish'd ? Safe thy charms witli me should rest, Hither did thy pity send thee ; Pure the love tliat lills my breast. From itself it wciuld defend tliee. 'Tis tliy Ei)d calls tlice, love. Come, come, and heal his anguish I Driv'n from liis home, bolioM him rove, Cotidemu'd in exile liere to lan'Miisli ! EDMOND o'rYAn's LOVE ELEGY. 251 Oh, thdu dear cause of all my pains ! With thy charms each heart subduing, Come on Minister's lovely plains, Hear again fond passion suing. Music, mirth, and sports are here. Cheerful friends the hours beguiling ; O wouldst thou, my love, appear. To joy my bosom reconcilin;^ I Sweet would seem the holly's shade, Bright the clustering berries glowing ; And, in scented bloom array'd, Apple blossoms round us blowing. Cresses waving in the stream. Flowers its gentle bank perfuming ; Sweet the verdant path would seem, All in rich luxuriance blooming. O bright iu every grace of youth I Gentle charmer ! — lovely wonder ! Break not fond vows and tender truth ! O rend not ties so dear asunder I For thee all dangers would I brave, Life with joy, with pride, exposing ; Breast for tliee the stormy wave, Winds and tides in vain opposing. O might I call thee now my own ! No added rapture joy could borrow : 'Twould be like heaven, when life is flown, To cheer the soul, and heal its sorrow. 252 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. See thy falsehood, cruel maid ! See my cheek no longer glowing ; Strength departed, health decay'd ; Life in tears of sorrow flowing ! Why do I thus my anguish tell 1 — Why pride in woe, and boast in ruin ? — O lost treasure ! — fare thee well I — Lov'd to madness — to undoing. Yet, O hear me fondly swear ! Though thy heart to me is frozen, Thou alone, of thousands fair. Thou alone shonldst be my chosen. Every scene with thee would please ! Every care and fear would fly me ! Wintry storms and raging seas Would lose their gloom, if thou wert nigh me I Speak in time, while yet I live ; Leave not faithful love to languish ! Oh, soft breath to pity give. Ere my heart quite break with anguish. Pale, distracted, wild, 1 rove, No soothing voice my woe^i allaying ; Sad and devious through each grove My lone steps are weary straying. O .sickness, past all inediciue's art ! O sorrow, every grief exceeding ! O wound, tliat in my breaking heart. Cureless, deep, to deatli art blicfliug I EDMOND o'rYAN's LOVE ELEGY. 253 Such, O love ! thy cruel power, Fond excess, and fatal ruin ! Such, O beauty's fairest flower ! Such thy charms, and my undoing 1 How the swan adorns that neck ! There her down and whiteness growing ; How its snow those tresses deck, Bright in fair luxuriance flowing. Mine, of right, are all those charms ! Cease with coldness, then, to grieve me ! Take — O take me to thy arms. Or those of death will soon receive me. Ah ! what woes are mine to bear, Life's fair morn with clouds o'ercasting ! Doom'd the victim of despair ! Youth's gay bloom, pale sorrow blasting ! Sad the bird that sings alone, Flies to wilds, unseen to languish. Pours unheard the ceaseless moan. And wastes on desert air its anguish ! Mine, hapless bird ! thy fate ! The plunder'd nest, — the lonely sorrow ! The lost, lov'd, harmonious mate ! — The wailing night, — the cheerless morrow ! O thou, dear hoard of treasur'd love ! Though these fond arms should ne'er possess thee, Still, still my heart its faith shall prove, And its last sigh shall breathe to bless thee ! 254 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. The peculiar aptitude of the Irish language for lyric poetry has been dwelt upon by all acquainted with its resources, and pronounced superior, in this respect, to any European language, the Italian excepted. Miss Brooke, who has laid her country under a deep debt of gratitude, by the patriotic exertion of her hereditary genius, remarks that ' ' the poetry of many of our songs is indeed already music without the aid of a tune Nor is this to be wondered at, when we consider the advantage the Irish has in this particular, beyond every other language, of flowing off in vowels upon the ear.'"* How either a people capable of conceiving, or a language embodying, sentiments so exquisite as some of the lyric effusions of the bards could ever have been deemed essentialUj barbarous, is truly a marvel ; for theirs is indeed — " The passionate strain that, deeply going, Kefineth the bosom it trembleth through." The following stanzas are among the many beautiful frag- ments of this description, of which, unfortunately, the dates and writers are alike unknown. The translation is by Miss Brooke : — As the sweet blackberry's modest bloom, Fair flowering, greets the sight ; Or strawberries, in their rich perfume, Fragrance and bloom unite : So tills fair jjlant of tender youtli In outward charms can vie. And, from within, the soul of truth, ►Soft beaming, lills lier eye. * ReliqueH of Irish Poetrij, quarto edition, ji. '2,2'.). BRIDGET FERGUS. 255 Pulse of my heart, dear source of care, Stolen sighs, and love-breath'd vows ! Sweeter than when, through scented air, Gay bloom the apple boughs ! With thee no day can winter seem, Nor frost nor blast can chill ; Tliou the soft breeze, the cheering beam, That keeps it summer still. One other specimen of the same class may suffice. It was the joint production of two brother bards, named Fergus and M'Nally, and addressed to a young lady of the County Mayo, considered one of the greatest beauties of her time. * BRIDGET FERGUS. TRANSLATED BY JOHN d'aLTON, M.R.I. A. What chief of Erin's Isle with coldness could regard, When wandering o'er Our westei'n shore, The flower of Rahard ! Her eyes so blue. Like glistening dew On summer rosebuds seen ; Her smile so bright, Her heart so light. Her majesty of mien ! What wonder Erin's sons should be spell-bound in her gaze, For when I chance To catch her glance, I startle in amaze. A swan-like grace Her neck displays ; * Iriah Minstrelsy, vol. i., p. 324. 256 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. Her eye what ■witchery tells ! Her budding breast, But half coufest, Like living marble swells. Should sickness weigh your frame, or sorrow cloud your mirth, One look upon This lovely one, This paradise on earth ; Her winning air, Her tender care, Will put e'en death to flight ; For though Ixer eyes Beam witcheries. Her angel soul's more bright. Her lips more sweet than honey, a pouting freshness warms. While all must own That beauty's throne Is centred in her charms ; Thougli thousands prove The foi'ce of love, Deep cherislied in her sight, A morning star She shines afar. On all with etjual light. Since the birth-day of creation, this sacred earth ne'er bore A liuavenly mind So fairly slirincd. As her's wliom I adore ; Ju.st like the ro.se, The blusli (liat glows O'er all her kindling cheeks ; Tile dewy thyme In all its prime Seems In-cathing where she speaks. NATIONAL INTEMPERANCE. 257 Oh, that my fair and I were in some lonely place, Whose woods and groves Might hide our loves, And none our wanderings trace : That bliss untold Beyond the gold Of nations would I prize ; For ever there Her love to share, And triumph in her eyes. The last specimen of the native poetry of the seventeenth century that shall be given, was written towards its close by some bard whose name has not survived, and is of a very different kind from any that has preceded it. It describes, in a highly humorous style, but apparently with a lurking moral, the progress of that epidemic vice, intemperance, which about this period commenced its frightful ravages in the land, and which Mr. Hardiman, perhaps not unjustly, attributes to the political degradation of the people. Prior to this period, indeed, there does not appear even a single allusion to the existence of such a vice ; but it is significant of the spirit and manners of the times, that much of the subsequent poetry, including a large portion of the fine songs of Carolan, is of a Bacchanalian cast. Eternal honour to the man through whose patriotic exertions the nation purged itself, even temporarily, from this degrading vice. He left an example worthy of all imitation. In a poetical point of view, many of the compositions of this class are admirable. Of the present one, the first two stanzas are omitted. 258 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. ODE TO DRUNKENNESS. TRANSLATED BY THOMAS FURLONG. ****** Chang'd by thy touch, the poor quite rich become, The low get lofty, and the timid^bold ; Cripples get legs, speech bursts upon the dumb, And youth and vigour bless the weak and old ; The smile of joy steals o'er the face of trouble. And folks, 'svith scarcely half an eye, see double. By thee the miser's purse is opened wide ; The dolt, the dunderhead, thou renderest witty ; 'Tis thine to lend meek lowlhiess to pride, Or melt the stony, selfish heart with pity ; Even old hell-daring, weather-beaten sinners. When moved by thee, in grace become beginners. How oft have I, dear spouse, inspired by thee, Poured the full tide of eloquence along ; How oft have other wights been chang'd like me, Now up and down, defending right or wrong ; Subtle thou art, and vak)rous, and strong : 'Tis thine to loose the slave, or bind the free, To paralyze witli age the limbs oi youth ; Void of all guile, with thee dwells barefaced truth. Little thou heodest where tliy head is laid ; To thee the bog is as the bod of down ; Little thou mindo.st how thy clothes are made, Small thought hast thou of cloak, or cap, or gown ; For points of form thou carost not a pin, But at the chimney would as soon come in— ODE TO DRUNKENNESS. 259 Aye, just as soon as at the opening door ; The pelting rain may drench thee o'er and o'er, The storm, the snow, the hail around may fall, But still, my fearless spouse, thou smilest at them all. To many an ancient house art thou allied — Oh, many a lordly one thy claim must own ; The soul of valour, and the heart of pride, Must stoop all humbly where thy face is shown. Wide round the land thy relatives are known. The chiefs of might, O'Donnell and O'Neill, M'Guire, O'Rorke, M'Mahon, and O'Conor, Kildare's old earl, that pink of worth and honour, O'Hanlons from the mountain and the vale, Fair Antrim's chiefs, M'Donnell and O'Keane. And hundreds more, that mustunnam'd remain. All these, though haughty, and though high they be — These, darling drunkenness, are allied to thee. Nor these alone — each doctor in the land. Each strutting soldier, drest in red or blue. Each minstrel and each poet takes thy hand, Lawyers and ladies, and the clergy too. Knockgraney's head — the sky so fair to view — Than thee, at moments, seem not more sublime. But low thou liest again in little time : Fill up the cup, may victory be thine own, Go where thou wilt — for thee I'll live alone. After making due allowance for political causes, how- ever, it remains true — " How small, of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure !" And it requires some other explanation adequately to account for what was a social vice of the time, even later 260 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. and elsewhere than in Ireland, and as a preventative of which in ancient times the Greeks exhibited their slaves drunk publicly, in order to create disgust and contempt. In the early part of the eighteenth century appeared several bards of eminence — the last bright flickerings of the light of song, ere it died out for ever. The principal of these were O'Neachtan, MacDonnell, and Carolan. The first and last of these belong almost equally to the latter part of the previous century. O'Neachtan and M'Donnell were two of the principal Jacobite writers. The Jacobite poetry being that of a party, and deeply tinged with its prejudices, is not now very interesting. It is, moreover, chiefly written in a sort of allegorical style, which, though the allusions were obvious at the time, detracts very much from the interest, to readers of the present day ; for poetry, like wit, which requires to be explained at every step, how- ever excellent in itself, loses half its charm. So pervading, indeed, is this figurative style throughout the Jacobite poetry, that, taken literally, much of it might pass for the love songs of the troubadours. Ireland, celebrated under the greatest possible variety of titles, is frequently repre- sented as a lovely and disconsolate fair one, sometimes seen in visions, mourning the loss of her lover, and anxiously looking forward to his return. From these circumstances, few specimens of the Jacobite relics may suffice. John O'Neachtan, of Meath, the first of these writers, appears to have been a person of considcral)lo erudition, and an extensive miscellaneous author, from the list of liis works furnished by O'Reilly. The following stanzas are frmii .111 (.'li'giac tribute which he paid to the memory of Mary D'Este, tlio queen of the ill-fated James, on her decease, in the year 1718. MAGGY LAUDER. 261 LAMENT FOR THE QUEEN OF KING JAMES II. TRANSLATED BY HENRY GRATTAN CURRAN. * * :;: * The stone is laid o'er thee ! the fair glossy braid, The high brow, the bright cheek, with its roseate glow ; The bright form, and the berry that dwelt, and could fade On those lips, thou sage giver ! all, all are laid low. Whatever of purity, glory, hath ever Been linked with the name, lovely Mary, was thine ; Woe ! woe, that the tomb, ruthless tyrant, should sever The ties which our spirits, half broken, resign. The mid-day is dark with unnatural gloom — And a spectral lament, wildly shrieked in the air, Tells all hearts that our princess lies cold in the tomb — Bids the old and the young bend in agony there ! The most popular production of [O'Neachtan, however, belongs to the Bacchanalian class, of which it is one of the very best, and as such is here given. Maggy Lauder is one of the innumerable Jacobite titles of Ireland. MAGGY LAUDER. TRANSLATED BY THOMAS FURLONG. Here 's, first, the toast, the pride and boast, Our darling Maggy Lauder ; Let old and young, with ready tongue, And open heart, applaud her ; 262 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAIs'D. And next prepare — here 's to the fair, Whose smiles with joy have crown'd us Then drain the bowl^for each gay soul That 's drinking here around us. Come, friends, don't fail to toast O'Neill, Wliose race our rights defended ; Maguire the true — O'Donnell, too, From eastern sires descended ; Up, up, again — the tribe of Maine In danger never failed us ; With Leinster's spear, for ever near. When foemen have assailed us. Come, mark the call — and drink to all Old Ireland's tribes so glorious, Wlio still have sto.s for tluT alone — Oil ! leave me not to languish, Look on these eyes, whence sloeji halli tlown, Uethink thco of my anguish : My liopoH, my thoughts, my destiny — All dwell, all rest, sweet girl, on iheo. BRIDGET CRUISE. 269 Young bud of beauty, for ever bright, The proudest miist bow before thee ; Source of my sorrow and my delight — Oh ! must I in vain adore thee ? Where, where, through earth's extended round, Where may such loveliness be found ? Talk not of fair ones known of yore ; Speak not of Deirdre the renowned* — She whose gay glance each minstrel liail'd ; Nor she whom the daring Dardan bore From her fond husband's longing arms ; Name not the dame whose fatal charms, When weighed against a world, prevail'd ; To each some fleeting beauty might fall. Lovely, thrice lovely, might they be ; But the gifts and graces of each and all Are mingled, sweet'maid, in thee ! How the entranc'd ear all fondly lingers On the turns of thy thrilling song ; How brightens each eye as thy fair white fingers O'er the chords fly lightly along ; The noble, the learn'd, the ag'd, the vain, Gaze on the songstress, and bless the strain. How winning, dear girl, is thine air, How glossy thy golden hair ; Oh ! lov'd one, come back again. With thy train of adorers about thee — Oh ! come, for in grief and in gloom we remain — Life is not life without thee. * Deirdre, a female much celebrated by our poets. She was the heroine of the tragical fate of the sons of Usneach, an Irish tale of the days of Conor, King of Ulster, and the foundation of Mr. Macphersou's Darthula. 270 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. My memory wanders — my thoughts have stray 'd — My gathering sorrows oppress me — Oh ! look on thy victim, bright, peerless maid, Say one kind word to bless me. Why, why on thy beauty must I dwell. When each tortur'd heart knows its power too well? Or why will I say that favour'd and bless'd Must be the proud land that bore tliee ? Oh ! dull is the eye, and cold the breast. That remains mimov'd before thee. The irresistible fascination produced by the performance of this beautiful ode by the bard himself, in presence of the fair subject of it, has been recorded by Mr. O'Conor. From the following anonymous translation of some tender and elegant stanzas written in rcjily, it appears not to have been from any want of attachment for the bard, but in con- sequence of family circumstances, that his suit was not favourably received : — Oh ! temj)t not my feet from the straight path of duty, Love lights a meteor, but to betray ! And soon wouldst thou tire of the odourless beauty, If grew not esteem upon passion's decay : Then cease thee — ah ! cease thee to urge and to plain ! 1 may not, 1 cannot, tliy suit is in vain ; For filial afiFections a daugliter restrain. And worthless were she who had sliglited their sway. Ol), Iiow couldst Lhou trust for connul)ial all'oction The bosom untrue to its earliest ties ? Or where wore thy bliss, when on sad recollection I 'd snik, Helf-coiidoiiined, solf-abasluul, from thine eyes? Tlien cease thui!--Hli, cease tliee ! 'tis fated we part ! Yot, if sympathy soften the pang to thy heart, T will own, to this l)osom far dearer thou art Than all that earth's treasure, earth's pleasure supplicB. CAROL AN. 271 But where am I urged by impetuous feeling ? Thy tears -win the secret long hid in my breast. Farewell ! and may time fling the balsam of healing O'er wounds that have rankled, and robb'd thee of rest. Yet lose not, ah, lose not, each lingering thought Of her who in early affection you sought, And whose bosom, to cheer thee, would sacrifice ought But love to a parent, the kindest and best. Carolan always maintained the dignity of his profession, and was above receiving any pecuniary remuneration. He was an honoured guest at the houses of all the nobility and gentry, where his company was eagerly sought and highly prized ; and the hospitality of his entertainers was generally repaid by the tribute of his muse, either to the head of the house, or some of the fair members of the family. To follow him in all his wanderings would be impossible. Among many particulars of the bard's life, previously unknown, for which the public are indebted to the patriotic and inde- fatigable researches of the learned editor of the ' ' Minstrelsy, " is the following anecdote : — Though he seldom extended his peregrinations to the North, he visited, on one occasion, the county of Louth, and was brought without his knowledge into company with an eminent minstrel, named Mac Cuairt, or Macartney, whose skill upon the harp was superior to his own. The performance of Carolan, indeed, though correct, was never masterly or sweet, and he used the instrument chiefly as an accompaniment, and to aid him in the composi- tion of his melodies. Both bards were blind, and neither knew the other. After listening for some time to the music of his rival, Carolan exclaimed, "Your music is soft and sweet, but untrue." " Even truth itself is sometimes harsh," was the pointed rejoinder of Macartney. When, however, 272 NATIVE POETRY OF IRELAND. the minstrel learned on whom it was he had passed this censure, he burst out into an enthusiastic "Welcome," including these stanzas : — * -x- * * The prize of harmony, sent from afar, My Turlogh, that prize is thine ; It comes from Apollo, the old world's star. The guide of the sacred nine : And each bard that wanders o'er earth and sea, Seems proud to learn new lays from thee. Oh ! yes, from thee, thou son of song, Full many a strain may they borrow ; 'Tis thine in their mirth to entrance the throng, Or soothe the lone heart of sorrow. The Viscounts Mayo and Dillon were among his warmest patrons and admirers. It was probably at the mansion of one of them that the circumstance narrated by Goldsmith occurred. It is recorded that the poet, when very young, was taken to see Carolan, whose venerable and seer-like aspect made a deep impression on his youthful mind. In an elegant essay which ho wrote on the genius of Cnrolan, he remarks: " His songs, in general, may be compared to those of Pindar, as they have fretinently the same flight of ima- gination Being at the house of an Irish nobleman, where there was a musician present, who was eminent in his profession, Car Bridget Fergus ...... 255 Brian Boroimhe (Boru) ..... 118 Brooke, Miss Charlotte, Versions by — Carolan's Monody on the Death of his Wife . 279 Conloch, a heroic Poem .... .3.3 Elegy on the Death of Carolan . . 281 W 306 INDEX. Brooke, Miss Charlotte, Versions by — Fitzgerald's Maritime Ode Lament of CuchuUin for his Son Magnus the Great Ode to Goll, the son of Morui O'Eyan's Love Elegy . War Ode to Osgur, the son of Oisin Cambrensis', Giraldus, Eulogy of Irish Music in the twelfth century ...... Carbry Riada founds the Dalraidic Colony in Argyleshire Carbre Liffecar, King, suppresses the Fenians at the Battle of Gabhra (Gaura) Carolan (see O'Carolan) Cashell, Kings of, O'Dugan . Cashel of Munster .... Cathaeir, Mor, Testament of Celtic Language .... War Songs .... Chase, Poem of the .... Christianity, Introduction and rapid spread of Clontarf, Battle of . Columba, Saint, interferes on behalf of the Bards Iiis Latin verse — Notice of his Culdee Priory at lona Columbanus, Saint, Specimen of his Latin verse Concluding llemarks Conloch, Heroic Poem of . Conor Mac Ncssa, King of Ulster Coolin, The ..... Core, King of Munster, Lament for . Cormac Ulfada, King his Lament .... Cormacan Eigeas, Poem on Murkcrta MacNciil Cows, Woman of Three Cruachan (or Croghan), the royal I'lilacc of Connaught Cemetery . Cucliullin, Knight of the lied Branch Laniuut of, for his Son 12, Page 211 45 140 67 249 75 170 65 74 267 189 300 45 254 73 130 88 118 100 101 105 106 286 33 19 236 83 55 59 116 293 113 36 33 40 INDEX. Curran, H. Grattan, Versions by - Odes to Aodh, Prince of Orgiall Lament for Dalian The Eoman Vision Lament for the Queen of James II. Dallan Porgail, Notice of the Bard Odes of, to Aodh, Prince of Orgiall Seanchan's Lament for Dargo, Dirge of . . . D'Alton, John, m.k.i.a., Versions by — Bridget Fergus Carroll O'Daly and Echo Torna's Lament for Core and Niall Danes, Invasion of the Checked by Brian (Boroimhe) Boru Deirdre, Lament of, for the Sons of Usna . Blooming (Earl of Desmond's song) Donat's, Bishop, Verses in Eulogy of Ireland Donegal Castle, Elegy on the Ruins of Dr. Drake on the Ossianic Poems (note) Drummond, Eev. Dr., Versions by . . 119, 121, Dubtach (Duvach), the Arch-bard, becomes a Convert Christianity .... Dublin, Notice of ancient .... Duffy, C. G. (now Sir C), note respecting Brian Boru Dundalgin, the seat of Cuchullin Sea-fight at ... . Dunkin's, Rev. Dr., Translation of Donat's Verses . 307 Page 94-95 97 239 261 93 94-95 97 291 255 187 83 115 118 30 196 115 219 151 155, 160 to 88 . 114 . 118 40 . 140 . 115 Egeas, Torna, the last Pagan Bard , . . .81 Elegies 2G, 40, 77, 83, 119, 219, 224, 249, 2G1, 279, 281, 283 Elizabeth, Queen, contrast between her policy and that of James I. towards the disaffected chiefs. . . 230 Fair-Haired Girl, the Fair Hills of Ireland . Fenian Militia Poems . 299 . 302 G7 27, 29, 31, 72, 129, 151, 158 308 INDEX. Fergus, the Fenian Bard and Brother of Oisin His Ode to Gaul, the son of Morui . His War Ode to Osgur, the son of Oisin Fergus, Bridget .... Ferguson, S. (Sir S.), m.e.i.a.. Versions by- Farewell to Alba Deirdre's Lament for the sons of Usna Torna's Lament for Core and Niall . Lament for the Downfall of the Gael Ode to the Minstrel, O'Connellan Mild Mable Kelly Grace Nugent .... Elegy on the Ruins of Timolcaguc Abbey O'Byrne's Bard to the Clans of Wicklow Molly Astore . The Fair-Haired Girl . Cashel of Manster Nora of the Amber Hair Boatman's Hymn The Fair Hills of Ireland Fiech's Hymn to St. Patrick Finn Mac Cumhal, or M'Cool Fitzgerald's Maritime Ode . Frogs supposed formerly unknown in Ireland Furlong, Thomas, Versions by— Eileen a Koon John O'Dwyer of the Glen Ode to Drunkenness . Maggy Lauder Bridget Cruise O'More's Fair Daughter GABint.\ (Gaiua), Battle of . Gael, Lament tor the Downfall of tlic (O'Gnives) (iiraldus (sec Cambrensis) . GoU, or Gaul, the Son of Morni, Eulogy on Goldsmith, Anecdote of Carolan Page 65 55-67 75 255 21 30 83 207 248 273 278 283 295 298 299 300 300 301 302 89 88 211 nc. 174 237 258 201 268 275 75 207 170 53-67 272 Hicnoic PoEMH (sec Ballads) 19 INDEX. 309 Page Hostages, Niall of the Nine ..... 82 Howth, Hill of, Ode to 160 ItineRjVey, Prince Aldfrid's, of Ireland . . . 112 Irish Language— its aptitude for lyrical poetry . . 254 KiNCORA, Palace of, M'Liag's Lament for its Desolation . 119 King Ollamh Fodhla (Ollav Foala) .... 10 Cormac Ulfadha . . . . .55 • Niall of the Nine Hostages . . . .82 — - Conn of the Hundred Battles (note) . . . 55 Conor Mac Nessa . . . . .19 Lament of Cuchulliu for his Son . . . .40 For Core and Niall . . . . .83 For the Bard Dalian ..... 97 For Kincora and Brian .... 119 For the Gael . . . . .207 For Prince Charles ..... 265 Lawson, Edward, Version by- Blooming Deirdre Lament for Prince Charles Leahy, Wm., Metrical Versions by . 19, 22 Maggy Lauder Magnus the Great, a Heroic Poem Mangan, James Clarence, Versions by Testament of Cathaeir Mor Lament for Dalian Prince Aldfrid's Itinerary of Ireland Lament for the Palace of Kincora Lament for the Tironiau and Tirconnellian O'Hussey'r. Ode to the Maguire On the Ruins of Donegal Castle The Woman of Three Cows . Mary, Queen of James II., Lament for M'Nally and Fergus . Molly Astore .... Mac Brodin, Maolin Oge Mac Cuairt's Meeting with Carolau 196 265 :, 23, 25, 26, 158, 161 Princes 261 140 45 58, 98 112 119 224 231 219 293 261 255 298 207 271 310 INDEX. Mac Dary, Teige, Bard of Thomond Mac Dounell, John Clai'agh M'Liag's Lament for Kincora in Exile remembers Brian M'Nally ...... NiALL of the Nine Hostages .... Nora of the Amber Hair .... Norman, Anglo-, Inva'^ion of Ireland Norsemen, earliest Incursion of . . checked by reign of Brian Boru O'BiiiEN, Earl of Thomond, Mac Dary's Instructions to O'Brien, Inauguration of the -Donald O'Mulcoury, O'Cahau, one of the Northern chiefs O'Carolan, Turlogh, Biographic Notice of O'Cassidy, the Bard O'Connellan, the Minstrel, Ode to . O'Daly, Donogh More, Abbot of Boyle Carroll— his Eileen a Boon . Carroll (the Second) and Echo Odes 53,67,75,94,95, O'Donnell, Hugh Roe, Prince of Tyrconnell, Notice Lament for Ruin of his Castle . O'Dugan, Bard of the O'Kelly, Maurice O'Dugan, John .... O'Dun, the Bard .... O'Gnive, Feartlalha .... O'Higgin, Teige Dall O'llussey, Bard of, to the Maguirc of Fermanagh U'Mulconry . . . • • O'Mulconry, Donald .... O'Ncachtan, John, Biographic Notice of , O'Ryan, or, Ned of the Hills Ossianic Heroes . . . • Patrick, 8aiut . . • • I'otrjp, G., M..n., on Valley of the Thrushes, &c. - on the O'Cahans . Page . 215 . 260 . 119 . 121 . 255 82 . 300 . 169 115-117 118, 1G6 215 197 191 L'67 170 218 172 174 187 231, 248 215,219 219 235 189 170 207 207 L>70 170 197 260 249 59 82, 89 154 192 INDEX. 311 Prince Aldfrid's Poein on Ireland of Orgiall, Aodh, Odes to of Tyrconnell, Hugh Eoe O'Donnell Page 112-114 . 04-95 215, 219 KoMAN Vision, the ..... Ross, Fortification of . Rhyme, Earliest European Examples of, among the Irish Bards ...... Eoe, Battle of the ..... Scotia, Ireland the ancient .... Seanachan Torpest ..... Sheil, or Sedulius, the Poet — his Latin metre Stuart, the Royal Family of, of Irish Extraction ToRNA Egeas, last Pagan Bard UsNA, tragic fate of the three sons of Vkkses on the Royal Cemetery of Croghan . Walsh, Edward, Versions by — Blooming Deirdre Lament for Prince Charles . Wards, the Bards of the O'Donnell Wicklow, O'Byrne's Bard to the Clans of 231 177 89 193 G2 97 90 60 81 19 86 . 196 . 265 215, 223, 239 . 295 THE END. C. W. GlEBS, Printer, Dublin. EKRATUM. Page 51, line 5 from top, /or "N'as," read "Naas." SELECT LIST OF WORKS RELATING TO IRELAND PUBLISHED OR SOLD BY HODGES, FIGGIS, AND CO. 7 Vols., Medium 4to. £12 12s. THE ANNALS OF IRELAND BY THE FOUR MASTERS. TRANSLATED By the late JOHN O'DONOVAN, LL.D. Profusely Illustrated. Imperial 8vo. 28s. THE ROUND TOWERS & ANCIENT ARCHITECTURE OF IRELAND. By the late GEORGE PETRIE, LL.D. With 186 Engravings. Small 4to. 15s., net. THE TOWERS AND TEMPLES OF ANCIENT IRELAND. 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