Transcriber's Notes:

Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been retained as in the original.

A few typographical errors have been corrected. A complete list of changes [follows] the text.

Words listed in the Notes and Explanation are linked in the text like this. Click on the word to see the explanation.

A READING BOOK IN IRISH HISTORY BY P. W. JOYCE, LL.D.

One of the Commissioners for the Publication of the Ancient Laws of Ireland

Author of
"A SHORT HISTORY OF IRELAND" "A CHILD'S HISTORY OF IRELAND"
"IRISH NAMES OF PLACES," "OLD CELTIC ROMANCES"
"ANCIENT IRISH MUSIC"
AND OTHER WORKS RELATING TO IRELAND

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOMBAY
DUBLIN: M. H. GILL AND SON
1900

[All rights reserved]

PREFACE.

As this little book is intended chiefly for children, the language is very simple. But to make matters still easier, all words and allusions presenting the smallest difficulty are explained either in footnotes or in the "Notes and Explanations" at the end.

Advantage has been taken of the descriptions under the several Illustrations to give a good deal of information on the customs and usages of the ancient Irish people.

Although the book has been written for children, it will be found, I hope, sufficiently interesting and instructive for the perusal of older persons.

The book, as will be seen, contains a mixture of Irish History, Biography, and Romance; and most of the pieces appear in their present form now for the first time. A knowledge of the History of the country is conveyed, partly in special Historical Sketches, partly in the Notes under the Illustrations, and partly through the Biography of important personages, who flourished at various periods from St. Brigit down to the Great Earl of Kildare. And besides this, the Stories, like those of all other ancient nations, teach History of another kind, very important in its own way.

Ancient Irish Manuscript books contain great numbers of Historical and Romantic Tales; and the specimens given here in translation will, I am confident, give the reader a very favourable impression of old Irish writings of this class.

I make the following acknowledgments of assistance, with pleasure and thanks:—

To the Council of the Royal Irish Academy I am indebted for the use of the blocks of many Illustrations in Wilde's "Catalogue of Irish Antiquities."

I owe to the Council of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland several Illustrations from their Journal.

Colonel Wood-Martin has given me the use of the blocks of several of the Illustrations in his "Pagan Ireland."

Lord Walter FitzGerald has given me permission to reproduce the drawing of the old Chapter House door in St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin, from the "Journal of the Kildare Archæological Society."

And lastly, Messrs. Macmillan & Co. have permitted me to print portions of Lord Tennyson's poem, "The Voyage of Maildune."

CONTENTS.

Ornament from the Book of Kells. See page [117].

I.
LEGENDS AND EARLY HISTORY.[1]

In our [Ancient] books there are stories of five different races of people who made their way to Ireland in old times, with very exact accounts of their wanderings before their arrival, and of the battles they fought after landing. But these narratives cannot be depended on, for they are not real History but Legends, that is stories either wholly or partly [fabulous]. Of the five early races, the two last, who were called Dedannans and Milesians, were the most remarkable; and they are mixed up with most of the old Irish tales.

The Dedannans, coming from Greece, landed in Ireland; and having overcome the people they found there, became masters of the country. They had the name of being great [magicians]; and ancient Irish writings are full of tales of the marvellous [spells] of their skilled [wizards]. They remained in possession for about two hundred years, till the Milesians came, as will now be related.

For many generations the Milesians, before their arrival in Ireland, journeyed from one part of Europe to another, seeking for some place of settlement. And becoming at length weary of this state of unrest, they [consulted] their chief [druid], who was a skilful [seer], and bade him find out for them when they were to end their wanderings, and where they were to settle down. The druid, having thought the matter over for a while, told them that far out on the verge of the western sea was a lovely green island called Inisfail,[2] or the Island of [Destiny], which was to be their final home and resting-place. So they set out once more, and fared on from land to land, keeping the Isle of Destiny ever in mind, thinking of it by day and dreaming of it by night. At last they arrived in Spain, where they lived for a time. Here they were under the command of the renowned hero "Miled of Spain,"[3] or Milesius, from whom they came to be called Milesians.

Some old Irish writers say that while they dwelt in Spain, their chiefs, as they gazed [wistfully] over the waters northwards, one clear winter's night, from the top of a tower at the place now called Corunna, saw Inisfail like a dim white cloud on the sea, in the far distance. However this may be, the eight sons of Milesius, after their father's death—many centuries before the Christian era—set sail with a fleet, and soon arrived on the coast of Ireland. But before they could land, the Dedannans, by their spells, raised a furious tempest, which wrecked the fleet and drowned five of the brothers with most of their crews. The remaining three landed with their men; and having defeated the Dedannans in battle, they took possession of Ireland.

A fairy hill: an earthen mound at Highwood, near Lough Arrow, in Co. Sligo. A fairy moat is also figured at page [15], and a cairn at page [97].

When the Dedannans found that they were no longer able to hold the country, the legend tells us that they retired to secret dwellings under old forts, moats, [cairns], and beautiful green little hills: and they became fairies, and built themselves glorious palaces in their new underground abodes, all ablaze with light, and glittering with gems and gold.

From that period forward, till the time of the Danes, there were no more invasions; and the Milesian kings and people were left to make their own laws and manage the country as they thought best, without any interference from outside.

In the History of Ireland from the settlement of the Milesian Colony down to the time of St. Patrick, that is, to the fifth century of the Christian Era, there is a mixture of legend and fact; and it is often hard to disentangle them, so as to tell which is truth and which is fable. As we advance, the truth and certainty increase, and the legend grows less, till we arrive near the time of St. Patrick. From about this period forward, we are able to tell the main history of the country without any mixture of fable.

For a long time in the beginning the Irish people were all pagans; and the kind of religion they had will be presently described.

As early as the third or fourth century—long before St. Patrick's arrival—there were some Christians in Ireland; and it is believed that the knowledge of Christianity was brought to them from Britain: but on this point there is no certainty. Their numbers gradually increased as time went on; and when St. Patrick arrived he found some small Christian congregations scattered here and there through the country. But the main body of the people were pagans; and to St. Patrick belongs the glory of converting them. The history of his life-work need not be told here, as it will be found set forth in one of the Chapters of the "Child's History of Ireland." It is enough to say that he arrived in the year A.D. 432, with many companions to aid him; and that after thirty-three years of constant toil, he died in 465, leaving the great body of the people Christians, and the country covered with churches. St. Patrick was a man of strong will, of great courage—fearing no danger while doing his Master's work—and [possessing mighty power over] those he mixed with and addressed. He was more successful than any other [missionary] after the time of the Apostles.

Some years before St. Patrick's arrival, a great king ruled over Ireland (from 379 to 405) called Niall of the Nine [hostages]. From him were descended most of the kings who reigned over Ireland after his time till the Anglo-Norman Invasion.[4]

From the earliest ages the Irish of Ulster were in the habit of crossing the narrow sea to Alban or Scotland, which can be seen plainly from the sea-cliffs of Antrim; and many settled there and made it their home. In the year 503, nearly forty years after St. Patrick's death, a great colony of Irish—men, women, and children—crossed over, commanded by three princes, brothers, named Fergus, Angus, and Lorne. In course of time the posterity of these people mastered all Scotland; and from Fergus, who was their first king, the kings of Scotland were descended. At that time Ireland was generally known by the name of Scotia, and the Irish were called Scots; and from them Alban got the name of Scotland.

Stone Hammers, used when metal was still scarce, or not known at all. A wooden handle was fixed in the hole. Iron was known in Ireland from the beginning of the Christian era, and gold, silver, copper, and bronze, long before it.

In old times there were five provinces in Ireland:—Leinster, Ulster, Connaught, Munster, and Meath. Meath, which stretched from the Shannon eastwards to the sea, and from Kildare on the south to Armagh on the north, was about half the size of Ulster. It was the last formed of the five, and later on it disappeared as a province altogether. The present counties of Meath and Westmeath occupy only about half of it. In those times, the county Louth belonged to Ulster, and Cavan and Clare to Connaught.

There was a king over each of the five provinces, and over these again was a king of all Ireland, called the Over-king or head king. The kings of Ireland had their chief palace on the Hill of Tara in Meath; where many of the forts and other remains of the old buildings are still to be seen. But Tara was deserted as a royal residence in the sixth century, after which the kings of Ireland lived elsewhere.

II.
THE SONG OF INISFAIL.

I.

They came from a land beyond the sea,
And now o'er the western main,
Set sail, in their good ships, [gallantly],
From the sunny land of Spain.
"Oh, where's the Isle we've seen in dreams,
Our [destined home] or grave?"—
Thus sung they, as by the morning's beams
They swept the Atlantic wave.

II.

And lo, where afar o'er ocean shines
A sparkle of radiant green,
As though in that deep lay [em'rald] mines,
Whose light through the wave was seen.
"'Tis Inisfail—'tis Inisfail!"
Rings o'er the echoing sea,
While, bending to Heav'n, the warriors hail
That home of the brave and free.

III.

Then turn'd they unto the Eastern wave,
Where now their [Day-God's] eye
A look of such sunny [omen] gave
As lighted up sea and sky.
Nor frown was seen through sky or sea,
Nor tear on leaf or sod,
When first on their Isle of Destiny
Our great forefathers trod.

Thomas Moore.

III.
THE RELIGION OF THE PAGAN IRISH.

So far as we are able to judge from our old writings, the pagan Irish had no one religion common to all the people, and no settled general form of worship. They had many gods; and it would appear that every person chose whatever god he pleased for himself. Some worshipped idols; and we read of certain persons who had spring wells for gods: while some again adored fire, and others the sun and moon. The people also worshipped the shee or fairies, who were supposed to live in grand palaces underground, as described at page [3]. The persons who taught the people all about these gods were the Druids, who were the learned men of those times. They were believed to be wizards, and some think that they were pagan priests.

The pagan Irish had a dim notion of a sort of heaven, a happy land of [perpetual] youth and peace. It was believed that there were many happy lands in different places, which were called by various names, such as Moy-Mell, I-Brazil, and Tirnanoge. Some were out in the Atlantic Ocean, off the western coast, while others were down deep beneath lakes, and some in caves under forts or cairns. They were all inhabited by fairies, who sometimes carried off mortals: and those whom they brought away hardly ever came back. A fairy who wished to [allure] a mortal often chanted a sort of magical song called an incantation, which exercised a spell over the person that listened to it.

There is a pretty story, more than a thousand years old, in the [Book of the Dun Cow], which relates how Prince Connla of the Golden Hair, son of the great king [Conn the Hundred-fighter], was carried off by a fairy from the western shore in a [crystal] boat to Moy-Mell. One day—as the story relates—while the king and Connla and many nobles were standing on the sea-shore, a boat of shining crystal approached from the west: and when it had touched the land, a fairy, like a human being, and richly dressed, came forth from it, and, addressing Connla, tried to entice him into it. No one saw this strange being save Connla alone, though all heard the conversation: and the king and the nobles [marvelled], and were greatly troubled. At last the fairy chanted the following words in a very sweet voice: and the moment the chant was ended, the poor young prince stepped into the crystal boat, which in a moment glided swiftly away to the west: and prince Connla was never again seen in his native land.

THE [CHANT] OF THE FAIRY TO CONNLA OF THE GOLDEN HAIR.

I.

A land of youth, a land of rest,
A land from sorrow free;
It lies far off in the golden west,
On the verge of the [azure] sea.
A swift canoe of crystal bright,
That never met mortal view—
We shall reach the land ere fall of night,
In that strong and swift canoe:
We shall reach the strand
Of that sunny land
From druids and demons free;
The land of rest,
In the golden west,
On the verge of the azure sea!

II.

A pleasant land of winding vales, bright streams, and [verdurous] plains,
Where summer, all the live-long year, in changeless splendour reigns;
A peaceful land of calm delight, of everlasting bloom;
Old age and death we never know, no sickness, care, or gloom;

The land of youth,
Of love and truth,
From pain and sorrow free;
The land of rest,
In the golden west,
On the verge of the azure sea!

III.

There are strange delights for mortal men in that island of the west;
The sun comes down each evening in its lovely vales to rest:

And though far and dim
On the ocean's rim
It seems to mortal view,
We shall reach its halls
Ere the evening falls,
In my strong and swift canoe;
And ever more
That verdant shore
Our happy home shall he;
The land of rest,
In the golden west,
On the verge of the azure sea!

IV.

It will guard thee, gentle Connla of the flowing golden hair,
It will guard thee from the druids, from the demons of the air;[5]
My crystal boat will guard thee, till we reach that western shore,
Where thou and I in joy and love shall live for evermore:

From the druid's incantation,
From his black and deadly snare,
From the withering [imprecation]
Of the demon of the air,

It will guard thee, gentle Connla of the flowing golden hair;
My crystal boat will guard thee, till we reach that silver strand,
Where thou shalt reign in endless joy, the king of the Fairy-land!

From "Old Celtic Romances," by P. W. Joyce, LL.D.

IV.
CUSTOMS AND MODES OF LIFE.

Our old books contain very full information regarding the Irish people, and how they lived, more than a thousand years ago.

In early times Ireland was almost everywhere covered with forests; and there were great and dangerous bogs and marshes, overgrown with reeds, moss, and coarse grass. Many of these bogs still remain, but they are not nearly so large or dangerous as they were then. Great tracts of country were uninhabited, so that the whole population was much less than it is now.

Ancient Irish bronze reaping-hook: 6 inches long. It was fitted with a handle which was fastened in the socket with a rivet. Now in the National Museum, Dublin.

The people hunted and fished a great deal, partly for food, partly to rid the country of [noxious] creatures, and partly for sport; for the forests were alive with wild animals of all kinds, and the rivers and lakes teemed with fish. But no one then thought it worth while to hunt foxes and hares for sport, as people do now. They had much grander game:—wild boars with long and dangerous tusks; [gigantic] deer; and fierce wolves that lurked in caves and thick woods. In the cleared parts of the country there was much pasture and tillage various kinds of corn and vegetables were grown, and the land was very [fertile] and well watered with springs and rivulets.

A moat: at Patrickstown, near Oldcastle, Co. Meath. Some moats were burial mounds. See pages [16] and [59].

There was more pasture than tillage; and the pasture land was not fenced in, but was grazed in common. The law was very particular in laying down rules about the fences of tillage lands—that they should be properly made, and that when two farms lay next each other, each man should do half the fencing work. Oxen were generally used for ploughing: horses seldom. Generally two oxen were put to one plough, but sometimes four, and sometimes even six. While one man held the plough, another walked in front to lead the animals.

On account of the great forests and bogs, there were many large districts where it was hard to go long distances across country from place to place: and often impossible. But in all the inhabited parts there were roads or cleared paths. The roads of those times were however very rough, and not nearly so good as our present roads. Rivers were crossed by bridges made of rough planks or [wickerwork]—for there were no stone bridges—or by wading at shallow fords, or by little ferry boats.

The people lived in houses almost always made of timber, generally round-shaped or oval, but sometimes four-cornered and oblong like our present houses. In order to keep off wild beasts and robbers, there was a high embankment of earth, with a deep trench, round every house. Many of these earthworks still remain all over Ireland, and are well known by the names lis, rath, fort, &c.; and some have high mounds commonly called moats.

Grain-rubber: 16 inches long. People ground their corn with this before the invention of querns and milk. The grain was put between the two stones, and the upper stone was worked backwards and forwards with the hands. It was very hard and tedious work. See p. [17].

The food of the people was not very different from what it is at present, except that they had no potatoes, which were brought to Ireland for the first time about 300 years ago: and there was no tea or coffee. They used oats, wheat, rye, and barley, ground and made into bread; fish; and for those who could afford it, the flesh of various animals, either boiled or roast. Oatmeal porridge or stirabout was in very general use, especially for children. They ground their corn with small watermills, or with handmills called querns, one of which was kept in almost every house. Querns were in use before the earliest time that our history reaches; and water-mills were introduced before the arrival of St. Patrick. In those early ages there was no sugar, and honey was greatly valued, so that beehives were kept everywhere.

For drink, they had, besides plain water and milk, ale, and a sweet sort of liquor called mead both of which were made at home, and often wine, which was brought from the continent. There was then no whiskey.

In those days there were no hotels or inns as there are now, where a person could have board and lodging for payment; but they were not much needed then, as travellers were otherwise well provided for. Besides the monasteries, which, as we shall see further on, were always open and free to wayfarers, there were, all through the country, what were called "Houses of public [hospitality]." The keeper of one of those houses was called a Brugaid and sometimes a Beetagh; and his office was considered very high and honourable. A brugaid or beetagh had to keep an open house for travellers who were always welcome, and received bed and food free of charge. He was obliged by law to keep constantly in hands a large stock of provisions; and he should have a certain number of beds and all other necessary household furniture. To enable a brugaid to keep up such an [expensive] [establishment], he had the house itself and a large tract of land, free of rent and taxes, besides other [liberal] allowances.

The law required that there should be several open roads leading to the residence of every brugaid; and that a light should always be kept burning in the lawn at night to guide travellers to the house.

The people dressed well according to their means. Both men and women were fond of bright coloured garments, which were not hard to procure, as the art of dyeing in all the various hues was well understood. It was usual for the same person to wear clothes of several brilliant colours: and sometimes the long outside mantle worn by men and women was striped and spotted with purple, yellow, green, or other dyes like Joseph's coat of many colours. Those who were able to afford it wore rings, bracelets, necklaces, gorgets, brooches, and other ornaments, made of gold, silver, and a sort of white [bronze].

Ancient Irish [Gorget] for the neck: of gold, reddish in colour, and very pure: weighs 16⅓ oz. Now in the National Museum, Dublin.

The Irish metal workers were very skilful. They made brooches, rings, bracelets, croziers, crosses, and other such articles, in gold, silver, whitish bronze, gems, and [enamel], of which many have been found in the earth from time to time, and are now kept in [museums]: and some of them are so skilfully and beautifully wrought that no [artificer] of the present day can imitate them.

There were men of the several professions, such as medical doctors, lawyers, judges, builders, poets, historians: and all through the country were to be found tradesmen of the various crafts—carpenters, smiths, workers in gold, silver, and brass, ship and boat builders, masons, shoemakers, dyers, tailors, brewers, and so-forth: all working industriously and earning their bread under the [old irish laws], which were everywhere acknowledged and obeyed. Then there was a good deal of [commerce] with Britain and with Continental countries, especially France; and the home commodities, such as hides, salt, wool, etc., were exchanged for wine, silk, satin, and other goods not produced in Ireland.

From what has been said here, we may see that the ancient Irish were orderly and regular in their way of life—quite on a level in this respect with the people of those other European countries of the same period that had a proper settled government; and, it will be shown further on in this book, that they were famed throughout all Europe for Religion and Learning.

The greatest evil of the country was war; for the kings and chiefs were very often fighting with each other, which brought great misery on the poor people where the disturbances took place. But in those early times war was common in all countries; and in this respect there was no more trouble in Ireland than in England, Scotland, and the countries of the Continent.

Flint arrow-heads. The head was fixed on the top of the shaft with cord of some kind, or with dried gut or tendon. Flint was used at a very early period when metals were either not known at all or were still very scarce. The makers of flint implements shaped them by chipping with stone hammers, in which they were very skilful and expert.

One form of Irish Ornament.

The Fate of the Children of Lir[6]; or,
The Four White Swans.

V.
HOW THE CHILDREN OF LIR WERE TURNED INTO SWANS.

During the time when the Dedannans ruled in Erin, there was a chief named Lir, who lived in Ulster, and who was much beloved for his goodness and his hospitality. He had four little children: a girl, named Finola, who was the eldest, and three boys, Aed, Ficra, and Conn: and Finola and Aed were twins, as were also Ficra and Conn. Their mother died when they were very young, and they were then placed in charge of one of Lir's friends named Eva, who was a witch-lady.

The four children grew up under Eva's care. She nursed them with great tenderness, and her love for them increased every day. They slept near their father; and he would often rise from his own bed at the dawn of morning, and go to their beds to talk with them and to fondle them. And they were the delight and joy of all the Dedannans, who often came to Lir's house to see them. For nowhere could four lovelier children be found; so that those who saw them were always delighted with their beauty and their gentleness, and could not help loving them with all their heart.

Now when Eva saw that the children of Lir received such attention and affection from all, she fancied she was neglected on their account; and a poisonous dart of jealousy entered her heart, which turned her love to hatred; and she began to have feelings of bitter [enmity] for the children.

Her jealousy so preyed on her that she feigned illness, and lay in bed for nearly a year, filled with [gall] and brooding mischief; and at the end of that time she committed a foul and cruel deed of [treachery] on the children of Lir.

One day she ordered her horses to be yoked to her [chariot], and she set out for the palace of the Dedannan king, Bove Derg, bringing the four children with her. Finola did not wish to go, for it was revealed to her darkly in a dream that Eva was bent on some dreadful deed; and she knew well that the witch-lady intended to kill her and her brothers that day, or in some other way to bring ruin on them. But she was not able to avoid the fate that awaited her; so she went.

They fared on towards the palace, which was situated near Lough Derg in the south, till they came to the shore of Lake Darvra,[7] where they alighted; and the horses were unyoked. Eva led the children to the edge of the lake, and told them to go to bathe; and as soon as they had got into the clear water, she struck them one by one with a [druidical] fairy wand, and turned them into four beautiful snow-white swans. And she addressed them in these words—

Out to your home, ye swans, on Darvra's wave;
With [clamorous] birds begin your life of gloom:
Your friends shall weep your fate, but none can save;
For I've pronounced the dreadful words of doom.

After this, the four children of Lir turned towards the witch-lady; and Finola spoke—

"Evil is the deed thou hast done, O Eva; thy friendship to us has been a friendship of treachery; and thou hast ruined us without cause. But the power of thy witchcraft is not greater than the druidical power of our friends to punish thee; and the doom that awaits thee shall be worse than ours."

The witch-lady loved us long ago;
The witch-lady now has wrought us woe;
With magical wand and fearful words,
She changed us to beautiful snow-white birds;
And we live on the waters for evermore,
By tempests driven from shore to shore.

Finola again spoke and said, "Tell us now how long we shall be in the shape of swans, so that we may know when our miseries shall come to an end."

"It would be better for you if you had not put that question," said Eva; "but I will declare the truth to you, as you have asked me. Three hundred years on smooth Lake Darvra; three hundred years on the Sea of Moyle, between Erin and Alban;[8] three hundred years at Inish Glora[9] on the Western Sea. Until the union of Largnen, the prince from the north, with Decca, the princess from the south; until the Taillkenn[10] shall come to Erin, bringing the light of a pure faith; and until ye hear the voice of the Christian bell. And neither by your own power, nor by mine, nor by the power of your friends, can ye be freed till the time comes."

Then Eva [repented] what she had done; and she said, "Since I cannot afford you any other relief, I will allow you to keep your own [Gaelic speech], and ye shall be able to sing sweet, [plaintive] fairy music, which shall excel all the music of the world, and which shall lull to sleep all that listen to it. Moreover, ye shall retain your human reason; and ye shall not be in grief on account of being in the shape of swans."

And she chanted this [lay]—

Depart from me, ye graceful swans;
The waters are now your home:
Your palace shall be the pearly cave,
Your couch the crest of the crystal wave,
And your mantle the milk-white foam!

Depart from me, ye snow-white swans,
With your music and Gaelic speech:
The crystal Darvra, the wintry Moyle,
The billowy margin of Glora's isle;—
Three hundred years on each!

Victorious Lir, your hapless sire,
His loved ones in vain shall call;
His weary heart is ,
His home is joyless for evermore,
And his anger on me shall fall!

Through circling ages of gloom and fear
Your [anguish] no tongue can tell;
Till faith shall shed her heavenly rays,
Till ye hear the Taillkenn's [anthem] of praise,
And the voice of the Christian bell!

Then ordering her steeds to be yoked to her chariot, she set out once more for the palace leaving the four white swans swimming on the lake.

Our father shall watch and weep in vain;
He never shall see us return again.
Four pretty children, happy at home;
Four white swans on the feathery foam;
And we live on the waters for evermore,
By tempests driven from shore to shore.

VI.
THE FOUR WHITE SWANS ON LAKE DARVRA.

Lir and his people, hearing that Eva had arrived at Bove Derg's palace without the children, became alarmed, and went southwards without delay; till passing by the shore of Lake Darvra, they saw the swans. And the swans swam up and spoke to them, at which they wondered greatly. But when they told Lir that they were indeed his four children whom the witch-lady had turned into birds, he and his people were struck with [amazement] and [horror]; and they uttered three long mournful cries of grief and [lamentation]. And when Lir had heard from Finola how the matter happened, he prepared to set out in quest of Eva. And bidding farewell to the children for a time, he chanted this lay:—

The time has come for me to part:
No more, alas! my children dear,
Your rosy smiles shall glad my heart,
Or light the gloomy home of Lir.

Dark was the day when first I brought
This Eva in my home to dwell!
Hard was the woman's heart that wrought
This cruel and [malignant] spell!

I lay me down to rest in vain;
For, through the livelong, sleepless night,
My little lov'd ones, pictured plain,
Stand ever there before my sight.

Finola, once my pride and joy;
Dark Aed, [adventurous] and bold;
Bright Ficra, gentle, playful boy;
And little Conn, with curls of gold;—

Struck down on Darvra's reedy shore,
By wicked Eva's magic power:
Oh, children, children, never more
My heart shall know one peaceful hour.

After this he fared southwards till he arrived at the palace, where he found Eva. And the king, Bove Derg, when Lir had told him what Eva had done, was in great wrath; for he loved those little children. And calling Eva to him he spoke to her fiercely and asked her what shape of all others, on the earth, or above the earth, or beneath the earth, she most [abhorred], and into which she most dreaded to be [transformed].

And she, being forced to answer truly, said, "A demon of the air."

"That is the form you shall take," said Bove Derg; and as he spoke he struck Eva with a druidical magic wand, and turned her into a demon of the air. She opened her wings, and flew with a scream upwards and away through the clouds; and she is still a demon of the air, and she shall be a demon of the air till the end of time.

After this, Lir and the Dedannans came to live on the shore of the lake, to be near the swans and to speak with them. And so the swans passed their time on the waters. During the day they discoursed lovingly with their father and their friends; and at night they chanted their slow, sweet, fairy music, the most delightful that was ever heard by men; so that all who listened to it, even those who were in grief, or sickness, or pain, forgot their sorrows and their sufferings, and fell into a gentle, sweet sleep from which they awoke bright and happy.

At last the three hundred years[11] came to an end, and Finola said to her brothers:—

"Do you know, my dear brothers, that we have come to the end of our time here; and that we have only this one night to spend on Lake Darvra?"

When the three sons of Lir heard this, they were in great distress and sorrow; for they were almost as happy on Lake Darvra, surrounded by their friends, and conversing with them day by day, as if they had been in their father's house in their own natural shapes; whereas they should now live on the gloomy and tempest-tossed Sea of Moyle, far away from all human [society].

Early next morning, the swans came to the margin of the lake to speak to their father and their friends for the last time, and to bid them farewell; and Finola chanted this lay—

I.

Farewell, farewell, our father dear!
The last sad hour has come:
Farewell, Bove Derg! farewell to all,
Till [the dreadful day of doom]!
We go from friends and scenes beloved,
To a home of grief and pain;
And that day of woe
Shall come and go,
Before we meet again!

II.

We live for ages on stormy Moyle,
In loneliness and fear;
The kindly words of loving friends
We never more shall hear.
Four joyous children long ago;
Four snow-white swans to-day;
And on Moyle's wild sea
Our robe shall be
The cold and briny spray.

III.

Far down on the misty stream of time,
When three hundred years are o'er,
Three hundred more in storm and cold,
By Glora's [desolate] shore;
Till Decca fair is Largnen's spouse;
Till north and south unite;
Till the hymns are sung,
And the bells are rung,
At the dawn of the pure faith's light.

IV.

Arise, my brothers, from Darvra's wave
On the wings of the southern wind;
We leave our father and friends to-day
In measureless grief behind.
Ah! sad the parting, and sad our flight
To Moyle's [tempestuous] main;
For the day of woe
Shall come and go,
Before we meet again!

The four swans then spread their wings, and rose from the surface of the water in sight of all their friends, till they reached a great height in the air; then resting, and looking downwards for a moment, they flew straight to the north, till they alighted on the Sea of Moyle between Erin and Alban.

VII.
THE FOUR WHITE SWANS ON THE SEA OF MOYLE.

Miserable was the [abode] and evil the [plight] of the children of Lir on the Sea of Moyle. Their hearts were wrung with sorrow for their father and their friends; and when they looked towards the steep rocky, far-stretching coasts, and saw the great, dark, wild sea around them, they were overwhelmed with fear and despair. They began also to suffer from cold and hunger, so that all the hardships they had [endured] on Lake Darvra appeared as nothing compared with their suffering on the sea-current of Moyle.

And so they lived, till one night a great tempest fell upon the sea. Finola, when she saw the sky filled with black, threatening clouds, thus addressed her brothers:—

"Beloved brothers, we have made a bad preparation for this night: for it is certain that the coming storm will separate us; and now let us appoint a place of meeting, or it may happen that we shall never see each other again."

And they answered, "Dear sister, you speak truly and wisely; and let us fix on Carricknarone,[12] for that is a rock that we are all very well acquainted with."

And they appointed Carricknarone as their place of meeting.

Midnight came, and with it came the beginning of the storm. A wild, rough wind swept over the dark sea, the lightnings flashed, and the great waves rose, and increased their violence and their thunder.

The swans were soon scattered over the waters, so that not one of them knew in what direction the others had been driven. During all that night they were tossed about by the roaring winds and waves, and it was with much difficulty they preserved their lives.

Towards morning the storm abated, the sky cleared, and the sea became again calm and smooth; and Finola swam to Carricknarone. But she found none of her brothers there, neither could she see any trace of them when she looked all round from the summit of the rock over the wide face of the sea.

Then she became terrified, thinking she should never see them again; and she began to lament them plaintively.

[On this incident Thomas Moore wrote the following beautiful song. A person is supposed to be listening to Finola, and—in the first four lines of the song—calls on the winds and the waves to be silent that he may hear.]

Silent, O Moyle!

Silent, O Moyle! be the roar of thy water,
Break not, ye breezes! your [chain of repose],
While, murmuring mournfully, Lir's lonely daughter
Tells to the night-star her tale of woes.
When shall the Swan, her death-note singing,
Sleep with wings in [darkness] furl'd?
When will Heav'n, its sweet bell ringing,
Call my spirit from this stormy world?

Sadly, O Moyle! to thy winter-wave weeping,
Fate bids me languish long ages away;
Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping
Still doth the [pure light] its dawning delay
When will that day-star, mildly springing,
Warm our Isle with peace and love?
When will Heaven, its sweet bell ringing,
Call my spirit to the fields above?

At last, while she stood gazing in despair over the waste of waters, she saw her brothers swimming from different directions towards the rock. They came to her one by one, and she welcomed them joyfully: and she placed Aed under the feathers of her breast, and Ficra and Conn under her wings, and said to them:—"My dear brothers, though ye may think last night very bad, we shall have many like it from this time forth."

So they continued for a long time on the Sea of Moyle, suffering hardships of every kind, till one winter night came upon them, of great wind and of snow and frost so severe, that nothing they ever before suffered could be compared to the misery of that night. The swans remained on Carricknarone, and their feet and their wings were frozen to the icy surface, so that they had to strive hard to move from their places in the morning; and they left the skin of their feet, the quills of their wings, and the feathers of their breasts clinging to the rock.

"Sad is our condition this night, my beloved brothers," said Finola, "for we are forbidden to leave the Sea of Moyle; and yet we cannot bear the salt water, for when it enters our wounds, I fear we shall die of pain." And she uttered these words—

Our life is a life of woe;
No shelter or rest we find:
How bitterly drives the snow;
How cold is this wintry wind!

From the icy spray of the sea,
From the wind of the bleak north-east,
I shelter my brothers three,
Under my wings and breast.

The witch-lady sent us here,
And misery well we know:—
In cold and hunger and fear;
Our life is a life of woe![13]

They were, however, forced to swim out on the stream of Moyle, all wounded and torn as they were; for though the brine was sharp and bitter, they were not able to avoid it. They stayed as near the coast as they could, till after a long time the feathers of their breasts and wings grew again, and their wounds were healed.

After this the swans lived on for a great number of years, sometimes visiting the shores of Erin, and sometimes the headlands of Alban. But they always returned to the sea-stream of Moyle, for it was to be their home till the end of three hundred years.

One day they came to the mouth of the Bann, on the north coast of Erin, and looking inland, they saw a stately troop of horsemen approaching directly from the south-west. They were mounted on white steeds, and clad in bright-coloured garments, and as they wound towards the shore their arms glittered in the sun.

These were a party of the Dedannans who had been a long time searching for the children of Lir along the northern shores of Erin: and now that they had found them, they were joyful; and they and the swans greeted each other with tender expressions of friendship and love. The children of Lir inquired after the Dedannans, and particularly after their father Lir; and for Bove Derg, and for all the rest of their friends and acquaintances.

"They are well," replied the Dedannans; "but all are mourning for you since the day you left Lake Darvra. And now we wish to know how you fare on this wild sea."

"Miserable has been our life since that day," said Finola; "and no tongue can tell the suffering and sorrow we have endured on the Sea of Moyle." And she chanted these words—

Ah, happy is Lir's bright home to-day,
With mead and music and poet's lay:
But gloomy and cold his children's home,
For ever tossed on the briny foam.

Our [wreathèd] feathers are thin and light
When the wind blows keen through the wintry night:
Yet often we were robed, long, long ago,
In purple mantles and furs of snow.

On Moyle's bleak current our food and wine
Are sandy sea-weed and bitter brine:
Yet oft we feasted in days of old,
And [hazel-mead] drank from cups of gold.

Our beds are rocks in the dripping caves;
Our [lullaby] song the roar of the waves:
But soft rich couches once we pressed,
And harpers lulled us each night to rest.

Lonely we swim on the billowy main,
Through frost and snow, through storm and rain:
Alas for the days when round us moved
The chiefs and princes and friends we loved!

My little twin brothers beneath my wings
Lie close when the north wind bitterly stings,
And Aed close nestles before my breast;
Thus side by side through the night we rest.

Our father's fond kisses, Bove Derg's embrace,
The light of [Mannanan]'s godlike face,
The love of [Angus]—all, all are o'er;
And we live on the billows for evermore!

After this they bade each other farewell, for it was not permitted to the children of Lir to remain away from the stream of Moyle.

VIII.
HOW THE CHILDREN OF LIR REGAINED THEIR HUMAN SHAPE AND DIED.

Great was the misery of the Children of Lir on the sea of Moyle till their three hundred years were ended. Then Finola said to her brothers—

"It is time for us to leave this place, for our period here has come to an end."

The hour has come; the hour has come;
Three hundred years have passed:
We leave this bleak and gloomy home,
And we fly to the west at last!

We leave for ever the stream of Moyle;
On the clear, cold wind we go;
Three hundred years round Glora's Isle,
Where wintry tempests blow!

No sheltered home, no place of rest,
From the tempest's angry blast:
Fly, brothers, fly, to the distant west,
For the hour has come at last!

So the swans left the Sea of Moyle, and flew westward, till they reached the sea round the Isle of Glora. There they remained for three hundred years, suffering much from storm and cold, and in nothing better off than they were on the Sea of Moyle. Towards the end of that time, St. Patrick came to Erin with the pure faith; and St. Kemoc, one of his companions, came to Inish Glora. The first night Kemoc came to the island, the children of Lir heard his bell at early [matin time], ringing faintly in the distance. And the three sons of Lir trembled with fear, for the sound was strange and dreadful to them. But Finola knew well what it was; and she soothed them and said:—"My dear brothers, this is the voice of the Christian bell: and now the end of our suffering is near: for this bell is the signal that we shall soon be freed from our spell, and released from our life of suffering; for God has willed it."

And when the bell ceased she chanted this lay—

Listen, ye swans, to the voice of the bell,
The sweet bell we've dreamed of for many a year;
Its tones floating by on the night breezes, tell
That the end of our long life of sorrow is near!

Listen, ye swans, to the heavenly strain;
'Tis the [anchoret] tolling his soft [matin] bell:
He has come to release us, from sorrow, from pain,
From the cold and tempestuous shores where we dwell!

Trust in the glorious Lord of the sky;
He will free us from Eva's druidical spell:
Be thankful and glad, for our freedom is nigh,
And listen with joy to the voice of the bell!

"Let us sing our music now," said Finola.

And they chanted a low, sweet, plaintive strain of fairy music, to praise and thank the great high King of heaven and earth.

Kemoc heard the music from where he stood; and he listened with great astonishment. And he came and spoke to the swans, and asked them were they the children of Lir. They replied, "We are indeed the children of Lir, who were changed long ago into swans by the spells of the witch-lady."

"I give God thanks that I have found you," said Kemoc; "for it is on your account I have come to this little island." Then he brought them to his own house; and, sending for a skilful workman, he caused him to make two bright, slender chains of silver; and he put a chain between Finola and Aed, and the other chain he put between Ficra and Conn. And there they lived with Kemoc in content and happiness.

Now there was in that place a certain king named Largnen, whose queen was Decca: the very king and queen whom the witch-lady had foretold on the day when she changed the children into swans, nine hundred years before. And Queen Decca, hearing all about those wonderful speaking swans, wished to have them for herself: so she sent to Kemoc for them; but he refused to give them. Whereupon the queen [waxed] very wroth: and her husband the king, when she told him about it, was wroth also: and he set out straightway for Kemoc's house to bring the swans away by force. The swans were at this time standing in the little church with Kemoc. And Largnen coming up, seized the two silver chains, one in each hand, and drew the birds towards the door; while Kemoc followed him, much alarmed lest they should be injured.

The king had proceeded only a little way, when suddenly the white feathery robes faded and disappeared; and the swans regained their human shape, Finola being [transformed] into an extremely old woman, and the three sons into three feeble old men, white-haired and bony and wrinkled.

When the king saw this, he started with affright, and instantly left the place without speaking one word.

As to the children of Lir, they turned towards Kemoc; and Finola spoke—

"Come, holy [cleric], and baptise us without delay, for our death is near. You will grieve after us, O Kemoc; but in truth you are not more sorrowful at parting from us than we are at parting from you. Make our grave here and bury us together; and as I often sheltered my brothers when we were swans, so let us be placed in the grave—Conn standing near me at my right side, Ficra at my left, and Aed before my face."[14]

Come, holy priest, with book and prayer
Baptise and bless us here:
Haste, cleric, haste, for the hour has come
And death at last is near!

Dig our grave—a deep, deep grave,
Near the church we loved so well;
This little church, where first we heard
The voice of the Christian bell.

As oft in life my brothers dear
Were sooth'd by me to rest—
Ficra and Conn beneath my wings,
And Aed before my breast;

So place the two on either hand—
Close, like the love that bound me;
Place Aed as close before my face,
And twine their arms around me

Thus shall we rest for evermore,
My brothers dear and I;
Haste, cleric, haste, baptise and bless,
For death at last is nigh!

Then the children of Lir were baptised, and they died immediately. And when they died, Kemoc looked up; and lo, he saw a vision of four lovely children, with light, silvery wings, and faces all [radiant] with joy. They gazed on him for a moment; but even as they gazed, they vanished upwards, and he saw them no more. And he was filled with gladness, for he knew they had gone to heaven; but when he looked down on the four bodies lying before him, he became sad and wept.

And Kemoc caused a wide and deep grave to be dug near the little church; and the children of Lir were buried together, as Finola had directed—Conn at her right hand, Ficra at her left, and Aed standing before her face. And he raised a grave-mound over them, placing a tombstone on it, with their names graved in Ogham;[15] after which he uttered a [lament] for them, and their funeral rites were performed.

So far we have related the sorrowful story of the Fate of the Children of Lir.

From "Old Celtic Romances," by P. W. Joyce, LL.D.

IX.
HOW RELIGION AND LEARNING FLOURISHED IN IRELAND.

As soon as St. Patrick had entered on his mission in Ireland, he began to found monasteries, which continued to spread through every part of the country for hundreds of years after his time. Though religion was their main object, these establishments were among the chief means of spreading general [enlightenment] among the people. Almost every monastery had a school or college attached, at the head of which was some man who was a great scholar and teacher. The teachers were generally monks: but many learned laymen were also employed. Some colleges had very large numbers of students: for instance, we are told that there were 3000 in each of the two colleges of Clonard and Bangor[16]; and many others might be named, which, though not so large, had yet several hundred students in each.

In these monasteries and their schools all was life and activity. The monks were always busily employed; some at tillage on the farm round the monastery—ploughing, digging, sowing, reaping—some teaching, others writing books. The duty of a few was to attend to travellers, to wash their feet and prepare supper and bed for them: for strangers who called at the monastery were always received with welcome, and got lodging, food, and attendance from the monks, all free. Others of the inmates, again, employed themselves in cooking, or carpentry, or smithwork, or making clothes, for the use of the [community]. Besides all this they had their devotions to attend to, at certain times, both day and night, throughout the year. As for the students, they had to mind their own simple household concerns, and each day when these were finished they had plenty of employment in their studies: for the professors kept them hard at work.

There were also great numbers of schools not held in monasteries, conducted by laymen, some for general learning, such as History, Poetry, Grammar, Latin, Greek, Irish, the Sciences, &c.; and some for teaching and training young men for professions, such as lawyers and doctors. And these schools helped greatly to spread learning, though they were not so well known outside Ireland as the monastic schools.

The Irish professors were so famed for their learning, and the colleges were so excellent, that students came to them from every country of Europe: but more from Great Britain than elsewhere. The Irish were very much pleased to receive these foreign students: and they were so generous that they supplied them with food, gave them the manuscript books they wanted to learn from, and taught them too, all free of charge. Ireland was in those times the most learned country in Europe, so that it was known by the name of the Island of Saints and Scholars.

But the Irish scholars and missionaries did not confine themselves to their own country. Great numbers of them went abroad—to Britain and elsewhere—to teach and to preach the Gospel to the people. The professors from Ireland were held in such estimation that they were employed to teach in most of the schools and colleges of Great Britain and the Continent.

We shall see that the Northern Picts of Scotland were converted by St. Columkille and his monks from Iona (see p. [144]): and a large proportion of the people of England became Christians through the preaching of Irish monks before the arrival of St. Augustine.[17]

The Irish missionaries, who went to the Continent, in their eagerness to spread religion and knowledge, penetrated to all parts of Europe: they even found their way to Iceland. Few people have any idea of the trials and dangers they [encountered]. Most of them were persons in good position, who might have lived in plenty and comfort at home. They knew well, when setting out, that they were leaving country and friends probably for ever: for of those that went, very few ever returned. Once on the Continent, they had to make their way poor and friendless, through people whose language they did not understand, and who were in many places ten times more rude and dangerous in those ages than the inhabitants of these islands: and we know, as a matter of history, that many were killed on the way. Then these earnest men had, of course, to learn the language of the people among whom they took up their abode: for until they did this they had to employ an [interpreter], which was a very troublesome and slow way of preaching. But the noble-hearted missionaries went forth to do their good work; and no labours, hardships, or dangers could turn them from their purpose.

More than three hundred years ago the great English poet, Edmund Spenser, lived some time in Ireland, and made himself very well acquainted with its history. He knew what kind of a country it was in past ages; so that in one of his poems he speaks of the time

"When Ireland florishèd in fame
Of wealth and goodnesse, far above the rest
Of all that beare the British Islands name."

Ancient Irish solid gold ornament, now in the National Museum Dublin. It is double the size of the picture, and weighs 5¼ oz. Great numbers of gold objects, shaped like this, are in the National Museum, some very large—one of them weighing 33 oz.: while others are quite small, not bigger than a common coat-button. Besides being ornaments, it is believed that they were used as money, as there were no coins in use in very ancient times in Ireland.

X.
THE RED BRANCH KNIGHTS.

Nearly two miles west of Armagh are the remains of the ancient palace of Emain, or Emain Macha, often called Emania. They consist of a great circular rath or [rampart] of earth, with a deep trench outside it, and a high mound within, the whole [structure] covering a space of about thirteen acres. At one time the circular ring was complete, but of late years some portions of it have been levelled or removed. The houses in which the kings and heroes of old, with their numerous [households], lived and feasted, stood mostly within the enclosure, and were all of wood, not a trace of which remains. This great fort is now called by the people of the place, the "Navan Fort," or "Navan Ring."

According to Irish legendary history, Emain was founded about three centuries before the beginning of the Christian era, by Macha of the Golden Hair, queen of Ulster; and for more than six hundred years it was the residence of the kings of that province. But about the year A.D. 331, it was destroyed by three princes from Tara, who invaded and conquered that part of Ulster; after which Emain was no longer inhabited.

Early in the first century of the Christian era flourished the Red Branch Knights, a band of heroes in the service of Concobar (or Conor) Mac Nessa, king of Ulster. There were several bodies of them, under separate commanders, who lived in different parts of the province. These leaders were the great heroes of the Red Branch, who are celebrated in ancient Irish romance, and who are mentioned by Moore in his song, "Let Erin remember":—

"When her kings with [standard] of green unfurled
Led the Red Branch Knights to danger."

Every year during the summer months, various companies of the Knights came to Emain under their several commanders, to be drilled and trained in military science and feats of arms. They were lodged in a large separate building beside Emain, called Creeveroe or the Red Branch—from which the whole force took its name: and the townland in which this great house stood is still called Creeveroe. Each day the leaders were feasted by King Concobar Mac Nessa in his own [banquetting] hall at Emain.

The greatest of all the Red Branch heroes was Cu-Culainn—"the mightiest hero of the Scots," as he is called in one of the oldest of the Irish books—whose residence was Dundalgan, a mile west of the present town of Dundalk. This dun or fort consists of a high mound surrounded by an earthen rampart and trench, all of immense size, even in their ruined state; but it has lost its old name and is now called the Moat of Castletown, while the original name Dundalgan, slightly altered, has been [transferred] to Dundalk.

Another of these Red Branch Knights' residences stands beside Downpatrick: viz., the great fort anciently called (among other names) Dun-Keltair or Rath-Keltair, where lived the hero, Keltar of the Battles. It consists of a huge embankment of earth, nearly circular, with the usual deep trench outside it, covering a space of about ten acres.

Next to Cuculainn, the most renowned of those knights were Fergus Mac Roy, Leary the Victorious, Conall Carnagh, and the three Sons of Usna.

There were, at this same time, similar orders of knights in the other provinces. Those of Munster were commanded by Curoi Mac Dara, who lived in a great stone fortress high up on the side of Caherconree Mountain, near Tralee, the remains of which may be seen to this day. He was a mighty champion, and on one occasion vanquished Cuculainn in single combat. The Connaught knights were in the service of Maive, the warlike queen of that province, whose residence was the palace of Croghan, the ruins of which still remain near the village of Rathcroghan in the north of Roscommon.

In the Book of the Dun Cow, the Book of Leinster, and other old manuscripts (which will be found described farther on), there are great numbers of [romantic stories] about those Red Branch Knights, and about the Knights of Munster and Connaught, of which many have been translated and published.

The most celebrated of all these tales is what is called the Tain or "Cattle spoil" of Quelna or Cooley.[18] Queen Maive, having some cause of quarrel with an Ulster chief, set out with her army for the north on a plundering expedition, attended by all the great heroes of Connaught. During the march northwards, the queen, as the story tells us, had nine splendid chariots for herself and her attendant chiefs, her own in the centre, with two abreast in front, two behind, and two on each side, right and left; and—in the words of the old tale—"the reason for this order was, lest the clods from the hoofs of the horses, or the foam-flakes from their mouths, or the dust raised by that mighty host, should strike and tarnish the golden [diadem] on the head of the queen."

The invading army entered Quelna, which was then a part of Ulster and belonged to Cuculainn. It happened just then that the men of Ulster were under a [spell of feebleness], all but Cuculainn, who had to defend single-handed the several fords and passes, in a series of combats against Maive's best champions, in all of which he was victorious. But, in spite of what he could do, Queen Maive carried off nearly all the best cattle of Quelna, and, at their head, a great brown bull which indeed was what she chiefly came for. At length the Ulstermen, having been freed from the spell, attacked and routed the Connaught army. The battles, single combats, and other incidents of this war are related in the Tain, which consists of one main story, with about thirty minor tales grouped round it. Another Red Branch story is the Fate of the Sons of Usna, which has been always a favourite with Irish story-tellers, and with the Irish people in general, and which is now given here, translated in full.

A "Cromlech," an ancient Irish tomb: still to be seen in its place in the Phœnix Park, Dublin. This is rather a small one, the covering stone being only about 6½ feet long. Some cromlechs are very large: one at Kilternan near Dublin has a covering stone 23½ feet long, 17 feet broad, and 6½ feet thick: and no one can tell how the people of old lifted it up.

Deirdre; or, The Fate of the Sons of Usna.[19]

XI.
THE FLIGHT TO ALBAN.

Concobar Mac Nessa king of Ulaid[20] ruled in Emain. And his chief storyteller, Felimid, made a feast for the king and for the knights of the Red Branch; who all came to partake of it in his house. While they were feasting right joyously, listening to the sweet music of the harps and the mellow voices of the bards, a messenger brought word that Felimid's wife had given birth to a little daughter, an infant of wondrous beauty. And when Caffa, the king's druid and seer, who was of the company, was ware of the birth of the child, he went forth to view the stars and the clouds, if he might thereby glean knowledge of what was in store for that little babe.[21] And when he had returned to his place, he sat deep [pondering] for a time: and then standing up and obtaining silence, he said:—

"This child shall be called Deir-drĕ[22]; and fittingly is she so named: for much of woe will befal Ulaid and Erin in general on her account. There shall be jealousies, and strifes, and wars: evil deeds will be done: many heroes will be exiled: many will fall."

When the heroes heard this they were sorely troubled, and some said that the child should be killed. But the king said:—"Not so, ye Knights of the Red Branch, it is not [meet] to commit a base deed in order to escape evils that may never come to pass. This little maid shall be reared out of the reach of mischief, and when she is old enough she shall be my wife: thus shall I be the better able to guard against those evils that Caffa forecasts for us."

And the [Ultonians] did not dare to [gainsay] the word of the king.

Then king Concobar caused the child to be placed in a strong fortress on a lonely spot nigh the palace, with no opening in front, but with door and windows looking out at the back on a lovely garden watered by a clear rippling stream: and house and garden were surrounded by a wall that no man could surmount. And those who were put in charge of her were, her tutor, and her nurse, and Concobar's poetess, whose name was Lavarcam: and save these three, none were permitted to see her. And so she grew up in this solitude, year by year, till she was of marriageable age; when she excelled all the maidens of her time for beauty.

One snowy day as she and Lavarcam looked forth from the window, they saw some blood on the snow, where her tutor had killed a calf for dinner; and a raven alighted and began to drink of it. "I should like," said Deirdre, "that he who is to be my husband should have these three colours: his hair as black as the raven: his cheeks red as the blood: his skin like the snow. And I saw such a youth in a dream last night; but I know not where he is, or whether he is living on the [ridge of the world]."

"Truly," said Lavarcam, "the young hero that answers to thy words is not far from thee; for he is among Concobar's knights: namely, Naisi the son of Usna."

Now Naisi and his brothers, Ainnli and Ardan, the three Sons of Usna, were the best beloved of all the Red Branch Knights, so [gracious] and gentle were they in time of peace, so skilful and swift-footed in the chase, so strong and valiant in battle.

And when Deirdre heard Lavarcam's words, she said:—"If it be as thou sayest, that this young knight is near us, I shall not be happy till I see him: and I beseech thee to bring him to speak to me."

"Alas, child," replied Lavarcam, "thou knowest not the peril of what thou askest me to do: for if thy tutor come to know of it, he will surely tell the king; and the king's anger none can bear."

Deirdre answered not: but she remained for many days sad and silent: and her eyes often filled with tears through memory of her dream: so that Lavarcam was grieved: and she pondered on the thing if it could be done, for she loved Deirdre very much and had compassion on her. At last she contrived that these two should meet without the tutor's knowledge: and the end of the matter was that they loved each other: and Deirdre said she would never wed the king, but she would wed Naisi.

Knowing well the doom that awaited them when Concobar came to hear of this, Naisi and his young wife and his two brothers, with thrice fifty fighting men, thrice fifty women, thrice fifty [attendants], and thrice fifty hounds, fled over sea to Alban. And the king of the western part of Alban received them kindly and took them into [military service]. Here they remained for a space, gaining daily in favour: but they kept Deirdre apart, fearing evil if the king should see her.

And so matters went on, till it chanced that the king's steward, coming one day by Naisi's house, saw the couple as they sat on their couch: and going directly to his master, he said:—

"O king, we have long sought in vain for a woman worthy to be thy wife, and now at last we have found her: for the woman, Deirdre, who is with Naisi, is worthy to be the wife of the king of the western world. And now I give thee this counsel:—Let Naisi be killed, and then take thou Deirdre for thy wife."

A burial urn. The ancient Irish sometimes buried as we do now, placing the body in the grave, over which they often raised a cairn or a cromlech. Sometimes they burned the body and put the ashes in an urn, which they placed under a cromlech, or cairn, or burial mound. Urns were always made of clay, which was baked till it was hard. They are often found in graves, especially under cairns and cromlechs: and they nearly always contain ashes and bits of burnt bones. Occasionally, as has been already said (p. [43, note]), persons were buried standing up, especially kings and warriors, who were placed in the grave fully armed.

The king basely agreed to do so; and forthwith he laid a plot to slay the sons of Usna; which matter coming [betimes] to the ears of the brothers, they fled by night with all their people. And when they had got to a safe distance, they took up their abode in a wild place, where with much ado they obtained food by hunting and fishing. And the brothers built them three hunting [booths] in the forest, a little distance from that part of the seashore looking towards Erin: and the booth in which their food was prepared, in that they did not eat; and the one in which they ate, in that they did not sleep. And their people in like manner built themselves booths and huts, which gave them but scant shelter from wind and weather.

Now when it came to the ears of the Ultonians, that the sons of Usna and their people were in discomfort and danger, they were sorely grieved: but they kept their thoughts to themselves, for they dared not speak their mind to the king.

XII.
CONCOBAR'S GUILEFUL MESSAGE.

At this same time a right joyous and very splendid feast was driven by Concobar in Emain Macha to the nobles and the knights of his household. And the number of the king's household that sat them down in the great hall of Emain on that occasion was five and three score above six hundred and one thousand.[23] Then arose, in turn, their musicians to sound their melodious harpstrings, and their poets and their story-tellers to sing their sweet poetic strains, and to recount the deeds of the mighty heroes of the olden time. And the feasting and the enjoyment went on, and the entire assembly were gay and cheerful. At length Concobar arose from where he sat high up on his royal seat; whereupon the noise of mirth was instantly hushed. And he raised his kingly voice and said:—

"I desire to know from you, ye Nobles and Knights of the Red Branch, have you ever seen in any quarter of Erin, a house better than this house of Emain, which is my mansion: and whether you see any want in it."

And they answered that they saw no better house, and that they knew of no want in it.

And the king said: "I know of a great want: namely, that we have not present among us the three noble sons of Usna. And why now should they be in banishment on account of any woman in the world?"

And the nobles replied:—"Truly it is a sad thing that the sons of Usna, our dear comrades, should be in exile and distress. They were a shield of defence to Ulaid: and now, O king, it will please us well that thou send for them and bring them back, lest they and their people perish by famine or fall by their enemies."

"Let them come," replied Concobar, "and make [submission] to me: and their homes, and their lands, and their places among the Knights of the Red Branch shall be restored to them."

Now Concobar was mightily enraged at the marriage and flight of Naisi and Deirdre, though he hid his mind from all men; and he spoke these words pretending forgiveness and friendship. But there was guile in his heart, and he planned to allure them back to Ulaid that he might kill them.

When the feast was ended, and the company had departed, the king called unto him Fergus Mac Roy, and said:—"Go thou, Fergus, and bring back the sons of Usna and their people. I promise thee that I will receive them as friends should be received, and that what awaits them here is not enmity or injury, but welcome and friendship. Take my message of peace and good will, and give thyself as [pledge] and surety for their safety. But these two things I charge thee to do:—That the moment you land in Ulaid on your way back, you proceed straight to Barach's house which stands on the sea cliff high over the landing place fronting Alban: and that whether the time of your arrival be by day or by night, thou see that the sons of Usna tarry not, but let them come hither direct to Emain, that they may not eat food in Erin till they eat of mine."

And Fergus, suspecting no evil design, promised to do as the king directed: for he was glad to be sent on this errand, being a fast friend to the sons of Usna.

Fergus set out straightway, bringing with him only his two sons, Illan the Fair and Buinni the Red, and his shield bearer to carry his shield. And as soon as he had departed, Concobar sent for Barach and said to him:—

"Prepare a feast in thy house for Fergus: and when he visits thee returning with the sons of Usna, invite him to partake of it." And Barach thereupon departed for his home to do the bidding of the king and prepare the feast.

Now those heroes of old, on the day they received [knighthood], were wont to make certain pledges which were to bind them for life, some binding themselves to one thing, some to another. And as they made the promises on the faith of their knighthood, with great vows, in presence of kings and nobles, they dared not violate them; no, not even if it was to save the lives of themselves and all their friends: for whosoever broke through his knighthood pledge was foully dishonoured for evermore. And one of Fergus's [obligations] was never to refuse an invitation to a banquet: a thing which was well known to King Concobar and to Barach.

As to Fergus Mac Roy and his sons: they went on board their [galley] and put to sea, and made no delay till they reached the harbour nigh the campment of the sons of Usna. And coming ashore, Fergus gave the loud shout of a mighty man of chase. The sons of Usna were at that same hour in their booth; and Naisi and Deirdre were sitting with a polished [chessboard] between them playing a game.

And when they heard the shout, Naisi said:—"That is the call of a man from Erin."

"Not so," replied Deirdre, "it is the call of a man of Alban."