[1]His real name was Mac Brodin, "Daré" or Dairé being his father's name.
[1]His real name was Mac Brodin, "Daré" or Dairé being his father's name.
[2]Seeabove,p. 64.
[2]Seeabove,p. 64.
[3]See O'Flanagan's "Transactions of the Gaelic Society, 1808," p. 29.
[3]See O'Flanagan's "Transactions of the Gaelic Society, 1808," p. 29.
[4]"Ar ghrádh ar uamhan, ná arfhuathNá beir (bi ad' bhreitheamhneamh-luath)Breith nárchóir, aDhonchadh,dhuit,Archomhthaibh óirnáarguit."This fine poem, containing in all 220 lines, was published by O'Flanagan in 1808.
[4]"Ar ghrádh ar uamhan, ná arfhuathNá beir (bi ad' bhreitheamhneamh-luath)Breith nárchóir, aDhonchadh,dhuit,Archomhthaibh óirnáarguit."
This fine poem, containing in all 220 lines, was published by O'Flanagan in 1808.
[5]"Tig díom da ndearntaoi m'fioghailGríosadh bhur ngruadhlasamhail,Fios bhur gníomh a's gníomh bhurseanTig a sgrios díom no a ndidean."From a MS. of my own; this poem contains a hundred lines.
[5]"Tig díom da ndearntaoi m'fioghailGríosadh bhur ngruadhlasamhail,Fios bhur gníomh a's gníomh bhurseanTig a sgrios díom no a ndidean."
From a MS. of my own; this poem contains a hundred lines.
[6]"Ni bhi díon i ndiamhraibh gleannNá i bhfíodh dhlúith uaignach fhairseang,Ná i múr caomhcneas-aoltacuir,Ag fear m'easaontaó'm armuibh.Múchadh deigh-ghníomh, deargadh gruadh,Toirmeasg ratha re diombuan,Cur anma a'seachtaar fhearCreachtaár n-airm-ne re n-áireamh."
[6]"Ni bhi díon i ndiamhraibh gleannNá i bhfíodh dhlúith uaignach fhairseang,Ná i múr caomhcneas-aoltacuir,Ag fear m'easaontaó'm armuibh.
Múchadh deigh-ghníomh, deargadh gruadh,Toirmeasg ratha re diombuan,Cur anma a'seachtaar fhearCreachtaár n-airm-ne re n-áireamh."
[7]"Tánac oidhche go h-Eas-CaoileBudh cuimhin liom go lá an bhráith,Mairfidhchoidhcheárndoldo'ndún-saCornah-oidhchea'scúrsacháich."Metre Séadna.
[7]"Tánac oidhche go h-Eas-CaoileBudh cuimhin liom go lá an bhráith,Mairfidhchoidhcheárndoldo'ndún-saCornah-oidhchea'scúrsacháich."Metre Séadna.
[8]"Tána, Tochmairc, Toghla an bheatha,Do bhi 'san aiscidh fuair mé,Mineachadhagcath, 's agcéimeannSgath rí-leabhar Eireanné."
[8]"Tána, Tochmairc, Toghla an bheatha,Do bhi 'san aiscidh fuair mé,Mineachadhagcath, 's agcéimeannSgath rí-leabhar Eireanné."
[9]"Samhail na bhfear fuaireas rómham'San rath foirththe do b'úr niamhAr sleasaibhdathaandúin chorcraNifhaca súil rompariamh."See Catalogue of Irish MSS. in British Museum.
[9]"Samhail na bhfear fuaireas rómham'San rath foirththe do b'úr niamhAr sleasaibhdathaandúin chorcraNifhaca súil rompariamh."
See Catalogue of Irish MSS. in British Museum.
[10]It commences:—"Sluagh seisir tháinig do m' thigh,Béarfad uaim iúl an tseisir,Tearc do lacht mé ar na mhárachO thart na ré selánach (i.e., bitheamhnach);"and the last verse runs:—"Guidhim Dia do dhóirt a fhuilO sé a mbás bheith na mbeathaidh,(Ni mhairid gar marthain sin!)Nár marbhthar an sluagh seisir."I.e., "I pray to God who poured his blood, since it is their death to be in life,—they do not live whose living is that of theirs!—may that crew of six be never slain"! This last poem of the unfortunate Teig Dall is preserved in H. 1. 17 T.C.D. f. 116, 6, whence I copied it, but it has lately been printed in the brilliantly descriptive Catalogue of the Irish MSS. in the British Museum.
[10]It commences:—
"Sluagh seisir tháinig do m' thigh,Béarfad uaim iúl an tseisir,Tearc do lacht mé ar na mhárachO thart na ré selánach (i.e., bitheamhnach);"
and the last verse runs:—
"Guidhim Dia do dhóirt a fhuilO sé a mbás bheith na mbeathaidh,(Ni mhairid gar marthain sin!)Nár marbhthar an sluagh seisir."
I.e., "I pray to God who poured his blood, since it is their death to be in life,—they do not live whose living is that of theirs!—may that crew of six be never slain"! This last poem of the unfortunate Teig Dall is preserved in H. 1. 17 T.C.D. f. 116, 6, whence I copied it, but it has lately been printed in the brilliantly descriptive Catalogue of the Irish MSS. in the British Museum.
[11]I found this poem in a MS. in Trinity College, Dublin, written by one of the Maguires about the year 1700, but I forget its numbering. I quote the verse from memory:—"Och gan mé i g Cúl O fhFinnMar a bhfuil Tadhg O h-Uiginn,Dfheudfainn suan go seasgar annGan uamhain easgair orom."
[11]I found this poem in a MS. in Trinity College, Dublin, written by one of the Maguires about the year 1700, but I forget its numbering. I quote the verse from memory:—
"Och gan mé i g Cúl O fhFinnMar a bhfuil Tadhg O h-Uiginn,Dfheudfainn suan go seasgar annGan uamhain easgair orom."
[12]SeeHardiman's "Irish Minstrelsy," vol. ii. p. 102. But it may not have been the same O'Gneev or O'Gnive, who laments Teig Dall, or if it was, he must have been a very old man, seeing he accompanied Shane O'Neill to London in 1562. His poem on the "Stepping-down of the Gael" has been spiritedly translated by Sir Samuel Ferguson, beginning—"My heart is in woe,And my soul is in trouble,For the mighty are low,And abased are the noble."But the metre is the favourite and dignified Deibhidh.
[12]SeeHardiman's "Irish Minstrelsy," vol. ii. p. 102. But it may not have been the same O'Gneev or O'Gnive, who laments Teig Dall, or if it was, he must have been a very old man, seeing he accompanied Shane O'Neill to London in 1562. His poem on the "Stepping-down of the Gael" has been spiritedly translated by Sir Samuel Ferguson, beginning—
"My heart is in woe,And my soul is in trouble,For the mighty are low,And abased are the noble."
But the metre is the favourite and dignified Deibhidh.
[13]"Oighidh Thaidhg dhuan-sgagtha Dhoill,Eag Eochaigh mhic Mhaoilsheachlainn,Tug draoithe Eireann fá oil,Géibheann maoithe fa mhenmoin."From a manuscript of my own.i.e., "The tragic-fate of Teig Dall, the Strainer-of-lays, the death of Eochaidh Mac Melaughlin has brought the druids (i.e., learned poets) of Ireland under reproach, and fetters of weakness on [their] spirits."
[13]"Oighidh Thaidhg dhuan-sgagtha Dhoill,Eag Eochaigh mhic Mhaoilsheachlainn,Tug draoithe Eireann fá oil,Géibheann maoithe fa mhenmoin."
From a manuscript of my own.i.e., "The tragic-fate of Teig Dall, the Strainer-of-lays, the death of Eochaidh Mac Melaughlin has brought the druids (i.e., learned poets) of Ireland under reproach, and fetters of weakness on [their] spirits."
[14]This prince had also been eulogised by Teig Dall O'Hĭginn in a poem of 164 lines, beginningMairg fheuchas ar Inis Ceithlind, "Alas for him who beholds Enniskillen."
[14]This prince had also been eulogised by Teig Dall O'Hĭginn in a poem of 164 lines, beginningMairg fheuchas ar Inis Ceithlind, "Alas for him who beholds Enniskillen."
[15]In the original—"Fuar liom an oidhche-se d'Aodh!Cúis tuirse troime a cith-bhraon!Mo thruaighe sin d'ár seise [i.e., caraid!]Nimh fuaire na h-oidhche-se.Anocht is nimh lem' chridhe,Fearthar frasa teinntidhe,I gcómhdháil na gclá seactaMar tá is orgráin aigeanta."The literal meaning of this last verse, which may be profitably compared with Mangan's translation, is, "This night it is venom to my heart how the fiery showers are rained down, in the company of the frozen spikes; how it is, is a horror to the mind." The next verse is also worth giving."Do h-osgladh as ochtuibh neóilDoirse uisgidhe an aidheóir,Tug sé minlinnte ann a muir,Do sgeith an firmiminta hurbhuidh.""There has been thrown open, out of the bosom of the clouds, the doors of the waters of the air. It has made of little linns a sea; the firmament has belched forth her destructiveness." The metre of the last line in this verse is wrong, for it contains nine not seven syllables.
[15]In the original—
"Fuar liom an oidhche-se d'Aodh!Cúis tuirse troime a cith-bhraon!Mo thruaighe sin d'ár seise [i.e., caraid!]Nimh fuaire na h-oidhche-se.
Anocht is nimh lem' chridhe,Fearthar frasa teinntidhe,I gcómhdháil na gclá seactaMar tá is orgráin aigeanta."
The literal meaning of this last verse, which may be profitably compared with Mangan's translation, is, "This night it is venom to my heart how the fiery showers are rained down, in the company of the frozen spikes; how it is, is a horror to the mind." The next verse is also worth giving.
"Do h-osgladh as ochtuibh neóilDoirse uisgidhe an aidheóir,Tug sé minlinnte ann a muir,Do sgeith an firmiminta hurbhuidh."
"There has been thrown open, out of the bosom of the clouds, the doors of the waters of the air. It has made of little linns a sea; the firmament has belched forth her destructiveness." The metre of the last line in this verse is wrong, for it contains nine not seven syllables.
[16]O'Reilly mentions eight Mac-an-bháirds or Wards, eleven O'Clerys, seven O'Coffeys, eight O'Hĭginnses, nine O'Mulconrys and no less than twenty-eight O'Dalys, who were by far the most numerous and perhaps the ablest bardic tribe in all Ireland.
[16]O'Reilly mentions eight Mac-an-bháirds or Wards, eleven O'Clerys, seven O'Coffeys, eight O'Hĭginnses, nine O'Mulconrys and no less than twenty-eight O'Dalys, who were by far the most numerous and perhaps the ablest bardic tribe in all Ireland.
[17]The metre of the original is hepta-syllabic, each line ending in a dissyllable, and there is no regular beat or accentuation in the verse, which though printed as a four-line stanza, would really run some way thus—"Foobon on ye,Cringecowards,Are yourpowersDeparted?Galls your countryAretearing,Overbearing,Flint-hearted."The Irish themselves, either through the influence of English verse or through the natural evolution of the Irish language, changed this metre in the next century into one not unlike my English verses above.
[17]The metre of the original is hepta-syllabic, each line ending in a dissyllable, and there is no regular beat or accentuation in the verse, which though printed as a four-line stanza, would really run some way thus—
"Foobon on ye,Cringecowards,Are yourpowersDeparted?
Galls your countryAretearing,Overbearing,Flint-hearted."
The Irish themselves, either through the influence of English verse or through the natural evolution of the Irish language, changed this metre in the next century into one not unlike my English verses above.
[18]This piece is taken from a manuscript of my own; I have never met this fine poem elsewhere. The wordfooboon, upon which the changes are so rung, is new to me, and is not contained in any Irish or Scotch-Gaelic dictionary, the nearest approach to it is O'Reilly'sfúbta, "humiliation"; but I find the wordsfubub fububin the sense of "shame," "fy," in the Turner MS., "Reliquiæ Celticæ," vol. ii. p. 325. The metre of this poem is Little Rannaigheacht, and the first verse runs thus—"Fúbún fúibh a shluaghGaoidhealNi mhairaoin-neachagaibhGoill ag comh-roinn bhurgcrícheRe sluaghsithemar [i.e.bhur] samhail."Literally: "Fooboon to you, O host of the Gaels, not a man of you is alive: the Galls are together-dividing your lands, while ye are [unsubstantial] like a fairy host. The Clan Carthy of Leath Mogha [i.e., Southern Ireland], and to call them out down to one man, there is not—and sad is the disgrace—one person of them imitating the [old] Gaels," etc.
[18]This piece is taken from a manuscript of my own; I have never met this fine poem elsewhere. The wordfooboon, upon which the changes are so rung, is new to me, and is not contained in any Irish or Scotch-Gaelic dictionary, the nearest approach to it is O'Reilly'sfúbta, "humiliation"; but I find the wordsfubub fububin the sense of "shame," "fy," in the Turner MS., "Reliquiæ Celticæ," vol. ii. p. 325. The metre of this poem is Little Rannaigheacht, and the first verse runs thus—
"Fúbún fúibh a shluaghGaoidhealNi mhairaoin-neachagaibhGoill ag comh-roinn bhurgcrícheRe sluaghsithemar [i.e.bhur] samhail."
Literally: "Fooboon to you, O host of the Gaels, not a man of you is alive: the Galls are together-dividing your lands, while ye are [unsubstantial] like a fairy host. The Clan Carthy of Leath Mogha [i.e., Southern Ireland], and to call them out down to one man, there is not—and sad is the disgrace—one person of them imitating the [old] Gaels," etc.
[19]Yohy is the pronunciation of the Irish Eochaidh, genitive Eochach, or even Eathach. The Eochaidh here alluded to is Eochaidh Muigh-mhea-dhon [Mwee-va-on], father of Niall of the Nine Hostages. He came to the throne in 356, and from his son Brian the O'Conors, O'Rorkes, O'Reillys, MacDermots, etc., of Connacht are descended, who all went under the generic name of the Ui Briain, as the families descended from his other son, Niall of the Nine Hostages are the Ui Neill.Seeabove, pp.33and34.
[19]Yohy is the pronunciation of the Irish Eochaidh, genitive Eochach, or even Eathach. The Eochaidh here alluded to is Eochaidh Muigh-mhea-dhon [Mwee-va-on], father of Niall of the Nine Hostages. He came to the throne in 356, and from his son Brian the O'Conors, O'Rorkes, O'Reillys, MacDermots, etc., of Connacht are descended, who all went under the generic name of the Ui Briain, as the families descended from his other son, Niall of the Nine Hostages are the Ui Neill.Seeabove, pp.33and34.
[20]Bonnacht is a "mercenary soldier."
[20]Bonnacht is a "mercenary soldier."
[21]"O Néill Oiligh a'sEamhnaRiTeamhrachagus Tailltean,Tugsad ariarlachtUladhRíoghachtgo h-úmhal aimhghlic."I.e., "O'Neill of Aileach and of Emania, King of Tara and of Tailtinn, they have given away for the earldom of Ulster, a kingdom submissively unwisely."
[21]"O Néill Oiligh a'sEamhnaRiTeamhrachagus Tailltean,Tugsad ariarlachtUladhRíoghachtgo h-úmhal aimhghlic."
I.e., "O'Neill of Aileach and of Emania, King of Tara and of Tailtinn, they have given away for the earldom of Ulster, a kingdom submissively unwisely."
[22]Manus O'Donnell died in 1563, so that this poem must have been composed somewhat earlier.
[22]Manus O'Donnell died in 1563, so that this poem must have been composed somewhat earlier.
[23]This account of the later bardic schools is chiefly derived from a curious book, the "Memoirs of Clanrickard," printed in London in 1722.
[23]This account of the later bardic schools is chiefly derived from a curious book, the "Memoirs of Clanrickard," printed in London in 1722.
[24]Hence the bardic expression, "luidhe i leabaibh sgol,"i.e., "to lie in the beds of the schools," equivalent to becoming a poet.
[24]Hence the bardic expression, "luidhe i leabaibh sgol,"i.e., "to lie in the beds of the schools," equivalent to becoming a poet.
[25]Campion, who wrote in 1574, says of the Irish of his day: "They speake Latine like a vulgar language learned in their schooles of Leachcraft and law, whereat they begin children and holde on sixteene or twentie yeares." After the Battle of the Curlew Mountains, MacDermot, anxious to let the Governor know where the body of Sir Conyers Clifford lay, wrote a note to him in Latin.
[25]Campion, who wrote in 1574, says of the Irish of his day: "They speake Latine like a vulgar language learned in their schooles of Leachcraft and law, whereat they begin children and holde on sixteene or twentie yeares." After the Battle of the Curlew Mountains, MacDermot, anxious to let the Governor know where the body of Sir Conyers Clifford lay, wrote a note to him in Latin.
[26]Seeabove, pp.518-523.
[26]Seeabove, pp.518-523.
[27]Of Little Rannaigheacht I gave an example a few pages back in the poem "Fooboon." Séadna [Shayna] was another great favourite, built on the model of the following verse, with or without alliteration—"Teig of herds the Gallant Giver,Right receiver of our love,Teig thy Name shall KNow noending,Branch un-Bending, Erin's glove."This verse runs rhythmically, but that it does so is only an accident. The Irish could always have got their Séadna verses, at least, of eight and seven syllables, to run smoothly if they had wished, but they did not. Here is a more Irish-like stanza in the same metre—"Of / lowliness / came a / daughter,And / he who / brought her / was / God,Noble / her / son and / stately,Ennobling / greatly / this / sod."Great Séadna is the same metre as this, except that every verse ends with a word of three syllables. In Middle Séadna the first and third lines end in trisyllables, the second and fourth in dissyllables. Ae-fri-Slighe is like Middle Séadna, except that instead of the first and third lines being octosyllabic, they all have seven syllables, as—"Ye who bring to slaveryMen of mind and reading,God bring down your bravery,Leave you vexed and bleeding."Little Deachna is a pretty metre with five syllables to each line, as—"God gives me threethings,Them hebringsall threeWhen the soul isbornLike acornin me."Great Deachna contained eight and six syllables, each line ending in dissyllables—"I believe thiswaferholy,Which issafersurely,Flesh, blood,Godheadstrangely mingled,In breadbodiedpurely."The above metres are a few of the most favourite.
[27]Of Little Rannaigheacht I gave an example a few pages back in the poem "Fooboon." Séadna [Shayna] was another great favourite, built on the model of the following verse, with or without alliteration—
"Teig of herds the Gallant Giver,Right receiver of our love,Teig thy Name shall KNow noending,Branch un-Bending, Erin's glove."
This verse runs rhythmically, but that it does so is only an accident. The Irish could always have got their Séadna verses, at least, of eight and seven syllables, to run smoothly if they had wished, but they did not. Here is a more Irish-like stanza in the same metre—
"Of / lowliness / came a / daughter,And / he who / brought her / was / God,Noble / her / son and / stately,Ennobling / greatly / this / sod."
Great Séadna is the same metre as this, except that every verse ends with a word of three syllables. In Middle Séadna the first and third lines end in trisyllables, the second and fourth in dissyllables. Ae-fri-Slighe is like Middle Séadna, except that instead of the first and third lines being octosyllabic, they all have seven syllables, as—
"Ye who bring to slaveryMen of mind and reading,God bring down your bravery,Leave you vexed and bleeding."
Little Deachna is a pretty metre with five syllables to each line, as—
"God gives me threethings,Them hebringsall threeWhen the soul isbornLike acornin me."
Great Deachna contained eight and six syllables, each line ending in dissyllables—
"I believe thiswaferholy,Which issafersurely,Flesh, blood,Godheadstrangely mingled,In breadbodiedpurely."
The above metres are a few of the most favourite.
[28]"Mná módhach' go ngoimh ag gul,Gan árach ar sgur d'á mbrón,Caoi chadhain an oidhche fhuarIs binne 'ná fuaim do shrón."From a manuscript of my own, a comic poem by an anonymous bard, on a snoring companion.
[28]"Mná módhach' go ngoimh ag gul,Gan árach ar sgur d'á mbrón,Caoi chadhain an oidhche fhuarIs binne 'ná fuaim do shrón."
From a manuscript of my own, a comic poem by an anonymous bard, on a snoring companion.
[29]Windisch appears to me to have come closest to the truth: "If we suppose," he says, "that the accented syllable coincides with the natural accent of the word, if we consider that polysyllabic words, besides having an accented syllable, can also have a semi-accented one (neben den Hauptton auch einen Nebenton haben können), finally, if we take it for granted that the syllables in which rhyme or alliteration appear must also bear the accent or up-beat of the voice (in der Hebung stehen mussen), we then at once come to the conclusion that each half-verse contains a specified number of accented syllables, without, however, anyregularinterchange of up and down beats of accented and unaccented syllables."—See"Irische Texte," I. i. p. 157.
[29]Windisch appears to me to have come closest to the truth: "If we suppose," he says, "that the accented syllable coincides with the natural accent of the word, if we consider that polysyllabic words, besides having an accented syllable, can also have a semi-accented one (neben den Hauptton auch einen Nebenton haben können), finally, if we take it for granted that the syllables in which rhyme or alliteration appear must also bear the accent or up-beat of the voice (in der Hebung stehen mussen), we then at once come to the conclusion that each half-verse contains a specified number of accented syllables, without, however, anyregularinterchange of up and down beats of accented and unaccented syllables."—See"Irische Texte," I. i. p. 157.
[30]Thus when O'Carolan, in the last century, made the extempore response to the butler who prohibited his entering the cellar"Mo chreach a Dhiarmuid Ui FhloinnGan tu ar dorus ifrinn,'S tu nach leigfeadh neach ad' chó'r'San áit bheitheá do dhoirseóir."He spoke (perhaps unwittingly) an excellent Deibhidh stanza, but he never scanned it,"Mó chreach / á Dhiar / múid Ui / FhloínnGan tu / ár dor / us if / rinn."He said,"Mo chreách / a Dhíarmuid / Uí / FhloínnGan tú / ar dórus / ifrinn."So, too, in a rann I heard from a friend in the county Mayo, and printed in my "Religious Songs of Connacht," p. 232:—"Ni meisge is miste liomAcht leisg a feicsint orom [orm],Gan digh meisge's miste an greannAcht ni gnáth meisge gan mi-greann,"which is not spoken as—"Ní meis / gé is / míste liom,"but as—"Ni / méisge / is míste / liom."
[30]Thus when O'Carolan, in the last century, made the extempore response to the butler who prohibited his entering the cellar
"Mo chreach a Dhiarmuid Ui FhloinnGan tu ar dorus ifrinn,'S tu nach leigfeadh neach ad' chó'r'San áit bheitheá do dhoirseóir."
He spoke (perhaps unwittingly) an excellent Deibhidh stanza, but he never scanned it,
"Mó chreach / á Dhiar / múid Ui / FhloínnGan tu / ár dor / us if / rinn."
He said,
"Mo chreách / a Dhíarmuid / Uí / FhloínnGan tú / ar dórus / ifrinn."
So, too, in a rann I heard from a friend in the county Mayo, and printed in my "Religious Songs of Connacht," p. 232:—
"Ni meisge is miste liomAcht leisg a feicsint orom [orm],Gan digh meisge's miste an greannAcht ni gnáth meisge gan mi-greann,"
which is not spoken as—
"Ní meis / gé is / míste liom,"
but as—
"Ni / méisge / is míste / liom."
[31]"Do chuadar as rinn mo ruisgDo tholcha is áluinn éaguisg,Istuar orcradá n-éisiDromla fhuarna h-aibheisi."From a manuscript of my own.
[31]"Do chuadar as rinn mo ruisgDo tholcha is áluinn éaguisg,Istuar orcradá n-éisiDromla fhuarna h-aibheisi."From a manuscript of my own.
[32]"Ni fuath d'ealadhain m'aithreachThug fúmaigneadhaithrigheach,No anghlóirdogheibhthídá chionnArneimhuidh ó phórEirionn."From a manuscript of my own. This poem appears not to have been known to O'Reilly.
[32]"Ni fuath d'ealadhain m'aithreachThug fúmaigneadhaithrigheach,No anghlóirdogheibhthídá chionnArneimhuidh ó phórEirionn."
From a manuscript of my own. This poem appears not to have been known to O'Reilly.
[33]"Iomdha eiric nach í sinAgad a oighre Fhinghin,Ganséanaargarbh-amhsaibhGallMéalaant-amhgar-soind'fhulang."I.e., "Many an eric that is not that, [be] to thee, O heir of Finneen, without refusing [to inflict loss] on the coarse-monsters of Galls: a grief to endure that affliction!" From a manuscript of my own. This poem was also unknown to O'Reilly. It consists of 180 lines, and beginsLeó féin cuirid clann Iotha, i.e."By themselves go the children of the Ithians," of whom the O'Driscolls were the chief tribe. For an account of the little band of Ithians, the fourth division of the Gaelic family see above, p.67.
[33]"Iomdha eiric nach í sinAgad a oighre Fhinghin,Ganséanaargarbh-amhsaibhGallMéalaant-amhgar-soind'fhulang."
I.e., "Many an eric that is not that, [be] to thee, O heir of Finneen, without refusing [to inflict loss] on the coarse-monsters of Galls: a grief to endure that affliction!" From a manuscript of my own. This poem was also unknown to O'Reilly. It consists of 180 lines, and beginsLeó féin cuirid clann Iotha, i.e."By themselves go the children of the Ithians," of whom the O'Driscolls were the chief tribe. For an account of the little band of Ithians, the fourth division of the Gaelic family see above, p.67.
[34]Since writing the above a German Celticist, Ludwig Christian Stern, has written a most interesting account of a collection of bardic poems, chiefly of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, now preserved in the Royal Library at Copenhagen. This interesting collection is chiefly dedicated to the praises of the Maguires of Fermanagh, and is the work of a number of accomplished poets, most of whom are unknown to O'Reilly, even by name. The whole collection contains 5,576 lines, of which Herr Julius Stern has printed about a thousand, thus having the honour of being the first to render accessible a fair specimen of the work of the current poetry of the schools in the sixteenth century. The characteristics of this poetry he appraises, very justly as I think, in the following words, "The language is choice and difficult, the poetry is of the traditional type, poor in facts, but elevated, stately, learned, andvery artistic." See for this interesting article the "Zeitschrift für Celtische Philologie," II. Band, 2 Heft., pp. 323-373, "Eine Sammlung irischer Gedichte in Kopenhagen."
[34]Since writing the above a German Celticist, Ludwig Christian Stern, has written a most interesting account of a collection of bardic poems, chiefly of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, now preserved in the Royal Library at Copenhagen. This interesting collection is chiefly dedicated to the praises of the Maguires of Fermanagh, and is the work of a number of accomplished poets, most of whom are unknown to O'Reilly, even by name. The whole collection contains 5,576 lines, of which Herr Julius Stern has printed about a thousand, thus having the honour of being the first to render accessible a fair specimen of the work of the current poetry of the schools in the sixteenth century. The characteristics of this poetry he appraises, very justly as I think, in the following words, "The language is choice and difficult, the poetry is of the traditional type, poor in facts, but elevated, stately, learned, andvery artistic." See for this interesting article the "Zeitschrift für Celtische Philologie," II. Band, 2 Heft., pp. 323-373, "Eine Sammlung irischer Gedichte in Kopenhagen."
[35]"Ni mhair sgoluidhe sgéil teinnD'uibh nDálaigh ná d'uibh n-Uiginn."From a manuscript of my own.
[35]"Ni mhair sgoluidhe sgéil teinnD'uibh nDálaigh ná d'uibh n-Uiginn."From a manuscript of my own.
[36]"Reliquiæ Celticæ," vol. ii. p. 297. Last stanza.
[36]"Reliquiæ Celticæ," vol. ii. p. 297. Last stanza.
In poetry the external form, or framework, or setting of the poetic thought—the word-building in which the thought is enshrined—has varied vastly from age to age and from nation to nation. There is the system of the Greeks and Romans, according to which every syllable of every word is, as it were, hall-marked with its own "quantity," counted, that is, (often almost independently of the pronunciation) to be in itself either short or long, and their verse was made by special collocations of these short or long syllables—a form highly artistic and beautiful.
Then there is the principle of the Anglo-Saxon, Icelandic, and Teutonic peoples, which prevailed in England even down to the time of Chaucer, in which verse is marked only by accent and staff-rhyme, in other words is alliterative as in the "Book of Piers Ploughman."
Lastly, there is the rhymed poetry of the later Middle Ages, of which outside of Wales and Ireland there probably exists no example in a European vernacular language older than the ninth century. This system, apparently invented by the Celts, assumed in Ireland a most extraordinary and artificial form of its own, the essence of which was that they divided the consonantsintogroups,[1]and any consonant belonging to a particular group was allowed to rhyme with any other consonant belonging to the same. Thus a word ending intcould rhyme with a word ending inporc, but with no other; a word ending inbcould rhyme with one ending ingordybut with no other, and so on. Thus "rap" would have been considered by the Irish to make perfect rhyme with "sat" or "mac" but not with "rag"; and "rag" to make perfect rhyme with "slab" or "mad," but not with "cap," "sat" or "mac."
This classification of the consonants which was taught in the Irish schools for very many hundred years, and which forms the basis of the classical poetry which we spoke of in the last chapter, is to a considerable extent—I do not quite know how far—founded upon really sound phonological principles,[2]and the ear of the Irishman was so finely attuned to it that no mistake was ever made, for while such rhymes as "Flann" and "ram" fell agreeably on his ear, any Irish poet for a thousand years would have shuddered to hear "Flann" rhymed with "raff." This accurate ear for the classification of consonants is now almost a lost sense, but even still traces of it may be found in the barbarous English rhymes of the Irish peasantry, as in such rude verses as this from the County Cavan—
"By loving of a maiD,One Catherine Mac CaBe,My life it was betrayeD,She's a dear maid on me."
Or this—
"I courted lovelyMaryat theageof sixteeNSlender was herwaistand her carriage genteeL."
Or this from the County Dublin—
"When you were an acorn on the tree toPThen was I an aigle[3]coCK,Now that you are a withered ould bloCKStill am I an aigle cock."
Or this from the County Cork—
"Sir Henry kissed behind the bushSir Henry kissed the QuaKer;Well and what if he didSure he didn't aTe her!"
Upon the whole, however, that keen perception for the nuances of sound, and that fine ear which insisted upon a liquid rhyming only with a fellow liquid, and so on of the other classes, may be considered as almost wholly lost.
We now come to the great breaking up and total disruption of the Irish prosody as employed for a thousand years by thousands of poets in the bardic schools and colleges. The principles of this great change may be summed up in two sentences; first,the adoption of vowel rhyme in place of consonantal rhyme; second,the adoption of a certain number of accents in each line in place of a certain number of syllables. These were two of the most far-reaching changes that could overtake the poetry of any country, and they completely metamorphosed that of Ireland.
It was only on the destruction of the great Milesian and Norman families in the seventeenth century, that the rules of poetry, so long and so carefully guarded in the bardic schools, ceased to be taught; and it was the break up of these schools which rendered the success of the new principlespossible. A brilliant success they had. Almost in the twinkling of an eye Irish poetry completely changed its form and complexion, and from being, as it were, so bound up and swathed around with rules that none who had not spent years over its technicalities could move about in it with vigour, its spirit suddenly burst forth in all the freedom of the elements, and clothed itself, so to speak, in the colours of the rainbow. Now indeed for the first time poetry became the handmaid of the many, not the mistress of the few; and through every nook and corner of the island the populace, neglecting all bardic training, burst forth into the most passionate song. Now, too, the remnant of the bards—the great houses being fallen—turned instinctively to the general public, and threw behind them the intricate metres of the schools, and dropped too, at a stroke, several thousand words, which no one except the great chiefs and those trained by the poets understood, whilst they broke out into beautiful, and at the same time intelligible verse, which no Gael of Ireland and Scotland who has ever heard or learned it is likely ever to forget. This is to my mind perhaps the sweetest creation of all Irish literature, the real glory of the modern Irish nation, and of the Scottish Highlands, this is the truest note of the enchanting Celtic siren, and he who has once heard it and remains deaf to its charm can have little heart for song or soul for music. The Gaelic poetry of the last two centuries both in Ireland and in the Highlands is probably the most sensuous attempt to convey music in words, ever made by man. It is absolutely impossible to convey the lusciousness of sound, richness of rhythm, and perfection of harmony, in another language. Scores upon scores of new and brilliant metres made their appearance, and the common Irish of the four provinces deprived of almost everything else, clung all the closer to the Muse. Of it indeed they might have said in the words of Moore—
"Through grief and through danger thy smile has cheered my wayTill hope seemed to bud from each thorn that round about me lay."
It is impossible to convey any idea of this new outburst of Irish melody in another language. Suffice it to say that the principle of it was a wonderful arrangement of vowel sounds, so placed that in every accented syllable, first one vowel and then another fell upon the ear in all possible kinds of harmonious modifications. Some verses are made wholly on the Á sound, others on the Ó, Ú, É, Í sounds, but the majority on a wonderful and fascinating intermixture of two, three, or more. The consonants which played so very prominent a part under the old bardic system were utterly neglected now, and vowel sounds alone were sought for.
The Scottish Gaels, if I am not mistaken, led the way in this great change, which metamorphosed the poetry of an entire people in both islands. The bardic system, outside of the kingdom of the Lord of the Isles, had apparently scarcely taken the same hold upon the nobles, in Scotland as in Ireland, and the first modern Scotch Gaelic poet to start upon the new system seems to have been Mary, daughter of Alaster Rua MacLeod, who was born in Harris in 1569, and who appears to have possessed no higher social standing than that of a kind of lady nurse in the chief's family. If the nine poems in free vowel metres, which are attributed to her by Mackenzie in his great collection,[4]be genuine, then I should consider her as thepioneer of the new school. Certainly no Irishman nor Irishwoman of the sixteenth century has left anything like Mary's metres behind them, and indeed I have not met more than one or two of them used in Ireland during that century.[5]No one, for instance, would have dreamt of vowel-rhyming thus, as she does over the drowning of Mac'Illachallun:
"Mygriefmypain,ReliefwasvainTheseething waveDidleapandrave,Andreeveintwain,Bothsheetandsail,AndleaveusbareAnd FOUNDERING.Alas,indeed,For her youleaveYour brothersgriefTo them willcleave.It was onEasterMonday'sfeastThe branch ofpeaceWent DOWN WITH YOU."
The earliest intimations of the new school in Ireland which I have been able to come across, occur towards the very close of the sixteenth century, one being a war ode on a victory of the O'Byrnes,[6]and the other being an abhran orsong addressed by a bard unknown to me, one John Mac Céibhfinn to O'Conor Sligo, apparently on his being blockaded by Red Hugh in the country of the Clan Donogh in 1599.
As for the classical metres of the schools they were already completely lost by the middle of the eighteenth century, and the last specimen which I have found composed in Connacht is one by Father Patrick O'Curneen,[7]to the house of the O'Conors, of Belanagare, in 1734, which is in perfect Deibhidh metre.
"She who Rules the Race isoneSPrung from the sparringTernon,MARY MILD of MIEN O'Rorke,Our FAIRY CHILD QUEENbulwark.[8]
Let me Pray the puissantoneTo Mark them in theirMansion,Guard from FEAR their FAME andwedEach YEAR their NAME andhomestead."
In Munster I find the poet Andrew Mac Curtin some time between the year 1718 and 1743,[9]complaining to James Mac Donnell, of Kilkee, that he had to frame "a left-handed awkward ditty of a thing," meaning a poem of the new school; "but I have had to do it," he says, "to fit myself in with the evil fashion that was never practised in Erin before, since it is a thing that I see, that greater is the respect and honour every dry scant-educated boor, or every clumsybaogaireof little learning, who has no clear view of either alliteration or poetry,[10]gets from the noblemen of the country, than the courteous very-educated shanachy or man of song, if he compose a well-made lay or poem." Nevertheless, he insists that he will make a true poem, "although wealthy men of herds, or people of riches think that I am a fool if I compose a lay or poem in good taste, that is not my belief. Although rich men of herds, merchants, or people who put out money to grow, think that great is the blindness and want of sense tocompose aduanor a poem, they being well satisfied if only they can speak the Saxon dialect, and are able to have stock of bullocks or sheep, and to put redness [i.e., of cultivation] on hills—nevertheless, it is by me understood that they are very greatly deceived, because their herds and their heavy riches shall go by like a summer fog, but the scientific work shall be there to be seen for ever," etc. The poem which he composed on that occasion was, perhaps, the last in Deibhidh metre composed in the province of Munster.[11]
In Scotland the Deibhidh was not forgotten until after Sheriffmuir, in 1715. There is an admirable elegy of 220 lines in the Book of Clanranald on Allan of Clanranald, who was there slain.[12]It is in no way distinguishable from an Irish poem of the same period. There are other poems in this book in perfect classical metres, for in the kingdom of the Lord of the Isles the bards and their schools may be said to have almost found a last asylum. Indeed, up to this period, so far as I can see,—whatever may have been the case with the spoken language—the written language of the two countries was absolutely identical, and Irish bards and harpers found a second home in North Scotland and the Isles, where such poems as those of Gerald, fourth Earl of Desmond, appear to have been as popular as they were in Munster. We may, then, place the generation that lived between Sheriffmuir and Culloden as that which witnessed the end of the classical metres in both countries, over all Ireland and Gaelic-speaking Scotland, from Sutherland in the North, to the County Kerry in the South, so that, from that day to this, vowel-rhyming accented metres which had been making their way in bothcountries from a little before the year 1600, have reigned without any rival.
Wonderful metres these were. Here is an example of one made on the vowels é [æ] and ó, but while the arrangement in the first half of the verse is o/é, é/o, é/o, o; the arrangement in the second half is o é, o é, o é, é. I have translated it in such a way as to mark the vowel rhymes, and this will show better than anything else the plan of Irish poetry during the last 250 years. To understand the scheme thoroughly the vowels must not be slurred over, but be dwelt upon and accentuated as they are in Irish.
"The pOets with lAys are uprAising their nOtesIn amAze, and they knOw how their tOnes will delight,For the gOlden-hair lAdy so grAceful, so pOseful,So gAElic, so glOrious enthrOned in our sightUnfOlding a tAle, how the sOul of a fAy mustBe clOthed in the frAme of a lAdy so bright,UntOld are her grAces, a rOse in her fAce isAnd nO man so stAid is but fAints at her sight."[13]
Here is another verse of a different character, in which three words follow each other in each line, all making a different vowel-rhyme.
"Oswanbrightly GLEAMING o'erpondswhitely BEAMING,Swimonlightly CLEAVING andflashingthrough sea,Thewannight is LEAVING myfondsprite in GRIEVINGBeyondsight, or SEEING thou'rtpassingfrom me."
Here is another typical verse of a metre in which many poems were made to the air of Moreen ni [nee] Cullenáin. It is made on the sounds of o, ee, ar—o, ar—o, repeated in the same order four times in every verse, the second and third o's being dissyllables. It is a beautiful and intricate metre.
"AlOne with mE a bARd rOvingOn guARd gOing ere the dawn,Was bOld to sEE afAR rOamingThe stAR MOreen ni Cullenaun.The Only shE the ARch-gOingThe dARk-flOwing fairy fawn,With sOulful glEE the lARks sOaringLike spARks O'er her lit the lawn."[14]
Here is another metre from a beautiful Scotch Gaelic poem. The Scotch Gaels, like the Irish, produced about the same time a wonderful outburst of lyric poetry worthy to take a place in the national literature beside the spirited ballads of the Lowlands. Unlike the Lowlands, however, neither they nor the Irish can be said to have at all succeeded with the ballad.
"To a fAR mountain hARbourPrince ChARlie came flYing,The wInds from the HIghlandsWailed wIld in the air,On his breast was no stAR,And no guARd was besIde him,But a girl by him glIdingWho guIded him there.Like a rAy went the mAidenStill fAithful, but mOurning,For ChARlie was pARtingFrom heARts that adOred him,And sIghing besIde himShe spIed over OceanThe Oarsmen befOre themApprOaching their lair."[15]
These beautiful and recondite measures were meant apparently to imitate music, and many of them are wedded to well-known airs. They did not all come into vogue at the same time, but reached their highest pitch of perfection and melody—melody at times exaggerated, too luscious, almost cloying—about the middle of the eighteenth century, at a time when the Irish, deprived by the Penal laws of all possibility of bettering their condition or of educating themselves, could do nothing but sing, which they did in every county of Ireland, with all the sweetness of the dying swan.
Dr. Geoffrey Keating, the historian, himself said to have been a casual habitué of the schools of the bards, and a close friend of many of the bardic professors, was nevertheless oneof the first to wring himself free from the fetters of the classical metres, and to adopt an accented instead of a syllabic standard of verse. We must now go back and give some account of this remarkable man, and of some of his contemporaries of the seventeenth century.