The Poem-Book of the Gael Translations from Irish Gaelic Poetry into English Prose and Verse

THE POEM-BOOK OF THE GAEL The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Poem-Book of the Gael This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org . If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title : The Poem-Book of the Gael Editor : Eleanor Hull Release date : September 20, 2014 [eBook #46917] Most recently updated: October 24, 2024 Language : English Other information and formats : www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/46917 Credits : Produced by Matthias Grammel, Ted Garvin, Digital Library@Villanova and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEM-BOOK OF THE GAEL *** THE POEM-BOOK OF THE GAEL Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. at Paul's Work, Edinburgh Opening passage of the "Saltair na Rann." from the MS. in the Bodleian Library. THE POEM-BOOK OF THE GAEL Translations from Irish Gaelic Poetry into English Prose and Verse SELECTED AND EDITED BY ELEANOR HULL AUTHOR OF "THE CUCHULLIN SAGA IN IRISH LITERATURE," "A TEXT-BOOK OF IRISH LITERATURE," ETC. WITH A FRONTISPIECE LONDON CHATTO & WINDUS 1913 A NEW IMPRESSION All rights reserved CONTENTS ( Where not otherwise indicated, the translation or poetic setting is by the author. ) PAGE Introduction XV THE SALTAIR NA RANN, OR PSALTER OF THE VERSES I. The Creation of the Universe 3 II. The Heavenly Kingdom 11 III. The Forbidden Fruit 20 IV. The Fall and Expulsion from Paradise 22 V. The Penance of Adam and Eve 31 VI. The Death of Adam 43 ANCIENT PAGAN POEMS The Source of Poetic Inspiration (founded on translation by Whitley Stokes ) 53 Amorgen's Song (founded on translation by John MacNeill ) 57 The Song of Childbirth 59 Greeting to the New-born Babe 61 What is Love? 62 Summons to Cuchulain 63 Laegh's Description of Fairy-land 65 The Lamentation of Fand when she is about to leave Cuchulain 69 Mider's Call to Fairy-land 71 The Song of the Fairies A. H. Leahy 73 The great Lamentation of Deirdre for the Sons of Usna 74 OSSIANIC POETRY First Winter-Song Alfred Percival Graves 81 Second Winter-Song 82 In Praise of May T. W. Rolleston 83 The Isle of Arran 85 The Parting of Goll from his Wife 87 Youth and Age 91 Chill Winter 92 The Sleep-song of Grainne over Dermuid 94 The Slaying of Conbeg 97 The Fairies' Lullaby 98 Song of the Forest Trees Standish Hayes O'Grady 99 EARLY CHRISTIAN POEMS St. Patrick's Breastplate Kuno Meyer 105 Patrick's Blessing on Munster Alfred Perceval Graves 107 Columcille's Farewell to Aran Douglas Hyde 109 St. Columba in Iona Eugene O'Curry 111 Hymn to the Dawn 113 The Song of Manchan the Hermit 117 A Prayer 119 The Loves of Liadan and Curithir 121 The Lay of Prince Marvan 125 The Song of Crede, daughter of Guare Alfred Perceval Graves 130 The Student and his Cat Robin Flower 132 The Song of the Seven Archangels Ernest Rhys 134 The Féilire of Adamnan P. J. McCall 136 The Feathered Hermit 138 An Aphorism 138 The Blackbird 139 Deus Meus George Sigerson 140 The Soul's Desire 142 Tempest on the Sea Robin Flower 144 The Old Woman of Beare 147 Gormliath's Lament for Nial Black-knee 151 The Mother's Lament at the Slaughter of the Innocents Alfred Perceval Graves 153 Consecration 156 Teach me, O Trinity 157 The Shaving of Murdoch Standish Hayes O'Grady 159 Eileen Aroon 161 POEMS OF THE DARK DAYS The Downfall of the Gael Sir Samuel Ferguson 165 Address to Brian O'Rourke "of the Bulwarks" to arouse him against the English 169 O'Hussey's Ode to the Maguire James Clarence Mangan 172 A Lament for the Princes of Tyrone and Tyrconnell James Clarence Mangan 176 The County of Mayo George Fox 182 The Outlaw of Loch Lene Jeremiah Joseph Callanan 184 The Flower of Nut-brown Maids 186 Roisín Dubh 188 My Dark Rosaleen James Clarence Mangan 190 The Fair Hills of Eire George Sigerson 194 Shule Aroon (Traditional) 196 Love's Despair George Sigerson 198 The Cruiskeen Lawn George Sigerson 200 Eamonn an Chnuic, or "Ned of the Hill" P. H. Pearse 202 O Druimin donn dilish 204 Do you Remember that Night? Eugene O'Curry 206 The Exile's Song 208 The Fisherman's Keen (Anonymous) 210 Boatman's Hymn Sir Samuel Ferguson 213 Dirge on the Death of Art O'Leary 215 The Midnight Court (Prologue) 224 RELIGIOUS POEMS OF THE PEOPLE Hymn to the Virgin Mary 229 Christmas Hymn Douglas Hyde 231 O Mary of Graces Douglas Hyde 232 The Cattle-shed 233 Hail to Thee, O Mary 234 O Mary, O blessed Mother 235 I rest with Thee, O Jesus 236 Thanksgiving after Food 236 The Sacred Trinity 237 O King of the Wounds 237 Prayer before going to Sleep 238 I lie down with God 239 The White Paternoster 240 Another Version 241 A Night Prayer 243 Mary's Vision 243 The Safe-guarding of my Soul be Thine 244 Another Version 244 The Straying Sheep 246 Before Communion 246 May the sweet Name of Jesus 247 O Blessed Jesus 248 Another Version 248 Morning Wish 249 On Covering the Fire for the Night 249 The Man who Stands Stiff Douglas Hyde 250 Charm against Enemies Lady Wilde 252 Charm for a Pain in the Side Lady Wilde 252 Charm against Sorrow Lady Wilde 253 The Keening of Mary P. H. Pearse 254 LOVE-SONGS AND POPULAR POETRY Cushla ma Chree Edward Walsh 259 The Blackthorn 260 Pastheen Finn Sir Samuel Ferguson 263 She 265 Hopeless Love 266 The Girl I Love Jeremiah Joseph Callanan 267 Would God I were Katharine Tynan-Hinkson 268 Branch of the Sweet and Early Rose William Drennan 269 Is truagh gan mise I Sasana Thomas MacDonagh 270 The Yellow Bittern Thomas MacDonagh 271 Have you been at Carrack? Edward Walsh 273 Cashel of Munster Sir Samuel Ferguson 275 The Snowy-breasted Pearl George Petrie 277 The Dark Maid of the Valley P. J. McCall 279 The Coolun Sir Samuel Ferguson 281 Ceann dubh dhileas Sir Samuel Ferguson 283 Ringleted Youth of my Love Douglas Hyde 284 I shall not Die for You Padraic Colum 286 Donall Oge 288 The Grief of a Girl's Heart 291 Death the Comrade 294 Muirneen of the Fair Hair Robin Flower 296 The Red Man's Wife Douglas Hyde 298 Another Version 299 My Grief on the Sea Douglas Hyde 302 Oró Mhór, a Mhóirín P. J. McCall 304 The little Yellow Road Seosamh Mac Cathmhaoil 306 Reproach to the Pipe 308 Lament of Morian Shehone for Miss Mary Bourke (Anonymous) 311 Modereen Rue Katherine Tynan-Hinkson 314 The Stars Stand Up 316 The Love-smart 318 Well for Thee 319 I am Raftery Douglas Hyde 320 Dust hath Closed Helen's Eye Lady Gregory 321 The Shining Posy 324 Love is a Mortal Disease 326 I am Watching my Young Calves Sucking 328 The Narrow Road 329 Forsaken 332 I Follow a Star Seosamh Mac Cathmhaoil 334 LULLABIES AND WORKING SONGS Nurse's Song (Traditional) 337 A Sleep Song P. H. Pearse 339 The Cradle of Gold Alfred Perceval Graves 340 Rural Song 341 Ploughing Song 342 A Spinning-wheel Ditty 344 NOTES 349 INTRODUCTION "An air is more lasting than the voice of the birds, A word is more lasting than the riches of the world." The truth of this Irish proverb strikes us forcibly as we glance through any such collection of Gaelic poetry as this, and consider how these lays, the dates of whose composition extend from the eighth to the present century, have been preserved to us. On the border of some grave manuscript, such as a Latin copy of St. Paul's Epistles or a transcript of Priscian, a stray quatrain may be found jotted down by the tired scribe, recording in impromptu verse his delight at the note of a blackbird whose song has penetrated his cell, his amusement at the gambols of his cat watching a mouse, or his reflections on a piece of news brought to him by some wandering monk, about the terror of the viking raids, or a change of dynasty "at home in Ireland." Several of our Ossianic poems are taken from a manuscript of lays collected in 1626-27 in and about the Glens of Antrim, and sent out to while away the tedium of camp life to an Irish officer serving in the Low Countries, who wearied for the poems and stories of his youth. The religious hymns of Murdoch O'Daly (Muredach Albanach), called "the Scot" on account of his affection for his adopted country, though he was born in Connaught, are preserved in a collection of poems gathered in the Western Highlands, many Irish poems, even from so great a distance as Munster, being found in it. The Saltair na Rann or "Psalter of the Verses," the most important religious poem of ancient Ireland, is preserved in one copy only. It seems as though a miracle had sometimes intervened to guard for later generations some single version of a valuable tract at home or abroad; but it is a miracle which we could have wished to have taken place more often, when we reflect upon the large number of manuscripts forever lost to us. Many of the most beautiful of the ancient poems, as well as of the popular songs, are anonymous; they are frequently found mixed up with material of the most arid description, genealogies, annals, or miscellaneous matter. It is easier to guess from the tone of the poems under what mood of mind they were composed than to tell exactly who wrote them. Even when they come down to us adorned with the name of some well-known saint or poet, we have an uncertain feeling about the accuracy of the ascription, when we find a poem whose language cannot be earlier than the tenth or eleventh century confidently connected with a writer who lived two or three centuries earlier. In some cases, no doubt, the versions we possess, though modernised in language and rhythm, are in reality old; in others the ascription probably bears witness to the desire of the author or his public to win esteem for his work by adorning it with some famous name. Some of these poems, of which only one copy has come down to us, were, however, well known in an earlier day, and are quoted in old tracts on Irish metric as examples of the metres used in the bardic schools. It is evident that though standards of taste may change, the recognition of what is really beautiful in poetry remains as a settled instinct in man's nature. Many of those poems which now appeal most strongly to ourselves took rank as verses of acknowledged merit nearer to the time of their composition. This we can deduce from their use as examples worthy of imitation in these mediæval Irish text-books, where the names of songs we still admire are quoted as specimens of good poetry. It is remarkable that a very large proportion of fine poetry comes to us from the period of the Norse invasions, a time which we are accustomed to think of as one continuous series of wars, raids, and burnings; but which, if we may judge by what has come down to us of its verse, shows us that the Irish gentleman of that day had ideas of refinement that raise him far above the mere fighting clansman; his critical view of literature was a severe one. The fine freedom shown in many of these poems is surprising, both as regards the sentiments and the metres. They possess a mastery of form that argues a high cultivation, not only of the special art of poetry, but of the whole intellectual faculties of the writers. Some of these poems are strangely modern, even fin de siècle in their tone. The poem of the "Old Woman of Beare" has often been compared to Villon's "Regrets de la Belle Heaulmière ja parvenue à viellesse," or to Béranger's "Grand'mère." But the Irish poem is far more artistically wrought than either of these comparatively modern poems. For in the ancient verses, the old woman is set, a lonely and forsaken figure, against the background of the ebbing tide, and the slow throbs of her heart, worn with age and sin, beat in unison with the retreating motion of the wave. There is also a further significance in the poem which we must not miss. It is the earliest of the long series of allegorical songs in which Ireland is depicted under the form of a woman; though, unlike her successors of a later day, she is here represented, not as a fair maiden, a Grainne Mhaol, or Kathleen ni Houlahan, or Little Mary Cuillenan, but as an aged joyless hag, forlorn and censorious, bemoaning the loss of bygone pleasures, and the gravity of her nun's veil. The "Cailleach Bheara," the "Hag" or "Nun of Beare" is known in many place-names in Ireland. It is on Slieve na Callighe, or the "Hill of the Hag" or "Nun," in Co. Meath that the great cairns and tumuli of Lough Crew are found; it was evidently, like the neighbourhood of the Boyne, a place of pagan sanctity; and such names as Tober na Callighe Bheara, the "Well of the Hag of Beare," are found in different parts of the country. The "Hag of Beare" seems to be symbolic of pagan Ireland, regretting the stricter regime of Christianity, and the changes that time had brought about. The curious legend which prefaces the poem suggests the same idea. She is said to have seen seven periods of youth, and to have outlived tribes and races descended from her. For a hundred years of old age she wore the veil of a nun. "Thereupon old age and infirmity came upon her." We catch the same note of regret for the days of paganism through many legends and poems. It is mystical and veiled in such stories as that of "King Murtough and the Witch-woman"; it is fierce, but also often touched by the grotesque, in the innumerable colloquies between Patrick and Oisín (Ossian), the last of the ancient pagan heroes. But in all this there is a note of apology. It is not so outspoken in its revolt against the new system of life and thought as are the Norse chronicles and the Icelandic Sagas. After all, Christianity was an accomplished thing; quietly but persistently it took its place, sweeping into its fold chiefs and common folk alike. No resistance could stop this universal progress. And the literary man or the peasant, dwelling on his early legends, the outcome of a state of thought passed or passing away, dared only half-heartedly bemoan the former days, when wars and raids, the "Creach" and the "Táin" were the highest way of life for a brave man, and no Christian doctrine of forgiveness of enemies and charity to foes had come in to perplex his thoughts and confuse their issues. The Raid remained, it was an essential part of actual life; and burnings and wars went on as before, but they were no longer, theoretically, at least, matters to win praise and honour, they were condemned beforehand by the Christian ethic. A chief, to hold his own, must still throw open doors of hospitality to his tribe, must dispense largesse to all-comers, must gather about his board the neighbours and dependents in riotous assemblies and festivals. But all this the Christian monk and priest looked upon with suspicion; they bade him fill his thoughts with a future Kingdom, rather than with the earthly one to which he had been born, and to keep his soul in humble readiness by prayers and fastings, by seclusion and self-sacrifice. The great disjointure is everywhere apparent; chiefs are seen flying from their plain duties to their clans in order to win a heavenly chiefdom, not of this world; kings retire into hermitages, and whole villages take on the aspect and system of life of the monastery. To escape a network of religious service so closely spread throughout the country was impossible; all that the half-convinced could do was to relieve his soul in legend and song and jest. Hence the large amount of this literature of protest, coming to us curiously side by side with poems breathing the very spirit of religious devotion, the work of peaceful recluse or retired monk. For the movement had its other aspect. If the warrior or chief resigned much in becoming a Christian monk, there is no doubt that he gained as well. Contemporaneous religious poetry in the Middle Ages is elsewhere overshadowed by the cast of theologic thought. The "world" from which the saint must flee is no mere symbol, denoting the perils of evil courses; it is the actual visible earth, its hills and trees and flowers, and the beauty of its human inhabitants that are in themselves a danger and a snare. St. Bernard walking round the Lake of Geneva, unconscious of its presence and blind to its loveliness, is a fit symbol of the tendency of the religious mind in the Middle Ages. Sin and repentance, the fall and redemption, hell and heaven, occupied the religious man's every thought; beside such weighty themes the outward life became almost negligible. If he dared to turn his mind towards it at all, it was in order to extract from it some warning of peril, or some allegory of things divine. In essence, the "world" was nothing else than a peril to be renounced and if possible entirely abandoned. But the Irish monk showed no such inclination, suffered no such terrors. His joy in nature grew with his loving association with her moods. He refused to mingle the idea of evil with what God had made so good. If he sought for symbols, he found only symbols of purity and holiness. The pool beside his hut, the rill that flowed across his green, became to his watchful eye the manifestation of a divine spirit washing away sin; if the birds sang sweetly above his door, they were the choristers of God; if the wild beasts gathered to their nightly tryst, were they not the congregation of intelligent beings whom God Himself would most desire? The friendly badgers or foxes of the wood that came forth, undismayed by the white or brown-robed figure who seemed to have taken up his lasting abode amongst them, became to his mind fellow-monks, authorised members of his strange community. Amongst his feathered and furred associates, he read his Psalms and Hours in peace; sang his periodic hymn to St. Hilary or St. Brigit, and performed his innumerable genuflexions and "cross-vigils." Here, from time to time, he poured forth in spontaneous song his joy in the life that he had elected as his own. When King Guaire of Connaught stands at the door of the hermitage in which his brother Marvan had taken refuge from the bustle of court life, and asks him why he had sacrificed so much, Marvan bursts forth into a poem in praise of his hermit life, and the King is fain to confess that the choice of the recluse was the wiser one; when St. Cellach of Killala is dragged into the forest by his comrades and threatened with death, not even the sight of the four murderers lying at his feet with swords ready drawn in their hands to slay him can prevent him from greeting the Dawn in a beautiful song. The saint who, like St. Finan, lived shut up within his cell, in many cases lost his mental balance, and degenerated into a mere Fakir, winning heaven by the miseries of his self-imposed mortifications; but the monk who trusted himself to untrammelled intercourse with nature, preserved his underlying sanity. For whether or no the hundreds of daily genuflexions were performed, the patch of ground around the solitary's cell must be ploughed or sown or reaped; the apples must be gathered or the honeysuckles twined. The salmon or herring must be netted or angled for. Thus nature and its needs kept the hermit on the straight and simple paths of physical and mental healthfulness, however he might try to escape into a wilderness of his own imaginings. The early poetry, we feel, is on the whole joyous; whether pagan or Christian in tone, it arises from a happy heart. The pagan is more robust, more vigorous; the Christian gentler and more reflective; but alike they are free from the mournful note of despair that throws a settled gloom over much of the later literature. The Ossianic poems have quite a distinctive tone; in them we catch the abounding energy belonging to the days of the hunt of the wild native boar or stag, when all the country was one open hunting-ground, fit for men whose ideal was that of the sportsman and the warrior. Besides romantic tales, we have a whole body of poetry, loosely strung together under the covering name of Oisín, or Ossian, and usually ascribed to him or to Fionn mac Cumhall, his father and chief, dealing with the themes of war and of the chase. They are often in the nature of the protest of the fighting and hunting-man against the claims of religion. He is perpetually proclaiming that the sounds and sights of the forest and seashore are more dear to him than any others, and when he is called upon to give the first place to the duties of religion, placed before him, as it usually is, in its most enfeebling aspect, he raises the stout protest that the hunting-horn has greater attractions for him than the tinkling bell which calls to prayer.

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