FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[6]A kenning for a band of warriors. 'The flowers of the forest have all wede away.'[7]A famous mythical hero.[8]A slave-woman (rated at three cows) was the standard of value among the ancient Irish.[9]A battle-goddess.

[6]A kenning for a band of warriors. 'The flowers of the forest have all wede away.'

[7]A famous mythical hero.

[8]A slave-woman (rated at three cows) was the standard of value among the ancient Irish.

[9]A battle-goddess.

A beloved land is yon land in the east,Alba[10]with its marvels.I would not have come hither[11]out of it,Had I not come with Noisi.Beloved are Dun Fidga and Dun Finn,Beloved is the fortress above them,Beloved is the Isle of the Thorn-bush,And beloved is Dun Sweeny.Caill Cuan!Unto which Ainnle would go, alas!Short we thought the time there,Noisi and I in the land of Alba.Glen Lay!There I used to sleep under a shapely rock.Fish and venison and badger's fat,That was my portion in Glen Lay.Glen Massan!Tall is its wild garlic, white are its stalks:We used to have a broken sleepOn the grassy river-mouth of Massan.Glen Etive!There I raised my first house.Delightful its house! when we rose in the morningA sunny cattle-fold was Glen Etive.Glen Urchain!That was the straight, fair-ridged glen!Never was man of his age prouderThan Noisi in Glen Urchain.Glen Da Ruadh!Hail to him who hath it as an heritage!Sweet is the cuckoo's voice on bending branchOn the peak above Glen Da Ruadh.Beloved is Draighen over a firm beach!Beloved its water in pure sand!I would never have left it, from the east,Had I not come with my beloved.

A beloved land is yon land in the east,Alba[10]with its marvels.I would not have come hither[11]out of it,Had I not come with Noisi.

Beloved are Dun Fidga and Dun Finn,Beloved is the fortress above them,Beloved is the Isle of the Thorn-bush,And beloved is Dun Sweeny.

Caill Cuan!Unto which Ainnle would go, alas!Short we thought the time there,Noisi and I in the land of Alba.

Glen Lay!There I used to sleep under a shapely rock.Fish and venison and badger's fat,That was my portion in Glen Lay.

Glen Massan!Tall is its wild garlic, white are its stalks:We used to have a broken sleepOn the grassy river-mouth of Massan.

Glen Etive!There I raised my first house.Delightful its house! when we rose in the morningA sunny cattle-fold was Glen Etive.

Glen Urchain!That was the straight, fair-ridged glen!Never was man of his age prouderThan Noisi in Glen Urchain.

Glen Da Ruadh!Hail to him who hath it as an heritage!Sweet is the cuckoo's voice on bending branchOn the peak above Glen Da Ruadh.

Beloved is Draighen over a firm beach!Beloved its water in pure sand!I would never have left it, from the east,Had I not come with my beloved.

FOOTNOTES:[10]i.e.Scotland.[11]i.e.to Ireland.

[10]i.e.Scotland.

[11]i.e.to Ireland.

And Deirdre dishevelled her hair and began kissing Noisi and drinking his blood, and the colour of embers came into her cheeks, and she uttered this lay.

Long is the day without Usnagh's Children;It was never mournful to be in their company.A king's sons, by whom exiles were rewarded,Three lions from the Hill of the Cave.Three dragons of Dun Monidh,The three champions from the Red Branch:After them I shall not live—Three that used to break every onrush.Three darlings of the women of Britain,Three hawks of Slieve Gullion,Sons of a king whom valour served,To whom soldiers would pay homage.Three heroes who were not good at homage,Their fall is cause of sorrow—Three sons of Cathba's daughter,Three props of the battle-host of Coolney.Three vigorous bears,Three lions out of Liss Una,Three lions who loved their praise,Three pet sons of Ulster.That I should remain after NoisiLet no one in the world suppose!After Ardan and AinnleMy time would not be long.Ulster's high-king, my first husband,I forsook for Noisi's love:Short my life after them,I will perform their funeral game.After them I will not be alive—Three that would go into every conflict,Three who liked to endure hardships,Three heroes who never refused combat.O man that diggest the tomb,And that puttest my darling from me,Make not the grave too narrow,I shall be beside the noble ones.

Long is the day without Usnagh's Children;It was never mournful to be in their company.A king's sons, by whom exiles were rewarded,Three lions from the Hill of the Cave.

Three dragons of Dun Monidh,The three champions from the Red Branch:After them I shall not live—Three that used to break every onrush.

Three darlings of the women of Britain,Three hawks of Slieve Gullion,Sons of a king whom valour served,To whom soldiers would pay homage.

Three heroes who were not good at homage,Their fall is cause of sorrow—Three sons of Cathba's daughter,Three props of the battle-host of Coolney.

Three vigorous bears,Three lions out of Liss Una,Three lions who loved their praise,Three pet sons of Ulster.

That I should remain after NoisiLet no one in the world suppose!After Ardan and AinnleMy time would not be long.

Ulster's high-king, my first husband,I forsook for Noisi's love:Short my life after them,I will perform their funeral game.

After them I will not be alive—Three that would go into every conflict,Three who liked to endure hardships,Three heroes who never refused combat.

O man that diggest the tomb,And that puttest my darling from me,Make not the grave too narrow,I shall be beside the noble ones.

White shields they carry in their hands,With emblems of pale silver;With glittering blue swords,With mighty stout horns.In well-devised battle array,Ahead of their fair chieftainThey march amid blue spears,Pale-visaged, curly-headed bands.They scatter the battalions of the foe,They ravage every land they attack,Splendidly they march to combat,A swift, distinguished, avenging host!No wonder though their strength be great:Sons of queens and kings are one and all;On their heads areBeautiful golden-yellow manes.With smooth comely bodies,With bright blue-starred eyes,With pure crystal teeth,With thin red lips.Good they are at man-slaying,Melodious in the ale-house,Masterly at making songs,Skilled at playingfidchell.[12]

White shields they carry in their hands,With emblems of pale silver;With glittering blue swords,With mighty stout horns.

In well-devised battle array,Ahead of their fair chieftainThey march amid blue spears,Pale-visaged, curly-headed bands.

They scatter the battalions of the foe,They ravage every land they attack,Splendidly they march to combat,A swift, distinguished, avenging host!

No wonder though their strength be great:Sons of queens and kings are one and all;On their heads areBeautiful golden-yellow manes.

With smooth comely bodies,With bright blue-starred eyes,With pure crystal teeth,With thin red lips.

Good they are at man-slaying,Melodious in the ale-house,Masterly at making songs,Skilled at playingfidchell.[12]

FOOTNOTES:[12]A game like draughts or chess.

[12]A game like draughts or chess.

A vision that appeared to me,An apparition wonderfulI tell to all:There was a coracle all of lardWithin a port of New-milk LakeUpon the world's smooth sea.We went into that man-of-war,'Twas warrior-like to take the roadO'er ocean's heaving waves.Our oar-strokes then we pulledAcross the level of the main,Throwing the sea's harvest upLike honey, the sea-soil.The fort we reached was beautiful,With works of custards thick,Beyond the lake.Fresh butter was the bridge in front,The rubble dyke was fair white wheat,Bacon the palisade.Stately, pleasantly it sat,A compact house and strong.Then I went in:The door of it was hung beef,The threshold was dry bread,Cheese-curds the walls.Smooth pillars of old cheeseAnd sappy bacon propsAlternate ranged;Stately beams of mellow cream,White posts of real curdsKept up the house.Behind it was a well of wine,Beer and bragget in streams,Each full pool to the taste.Malt in smooth wavy seaOver a lard-spring's brinkFlowed through the floor.A lake of juicy pottageUnder a cream of oozy lardLay 'twixt it and the sea.Hedges of butter fenced it round,Under a crest of white-mantled lardAround the wall outside.A row of fragrant apple-trees,An orchard in its pink-tipped bloom,Between it and the hill.A forest tall of real leeks,Of onions and of carrots, stoodBehind the house.Within, a household generous,A welcome of red, firm-fed men,Around the fire:Seven bead-strings and necklets sevenOf cheeses and of bits of tripeRound each man's neck.The Chief in cloak of beefy fatBeside his noble wife and fairI then beheld.Below the lofty caldron's spitThen the Dispenser I beheld,His fleshfork on his back.Wheatlet son of Milklet,Son of juicy Bacon,Is mine own name.Honeyed Butter-rollIs the man's nameThat bears my bag.Haunch of MuttonIs my dog's name,Of lovely leaps.Lard, my wife,Sweetly smilesAcross the brose.Cheese-curds, my daughter,Goes round the spit,Fair is her fame.Corned Beef is my son,Who beams over a cloak,Enormous, of fat.Savour of SavoursIs the name of my wife's maid:Morning-earlyAcross New-milk Lake she went.Beef-lard, my steed,An excellent stallionThat increases studs;A guard against toilIs the saddle of cheeseUpon his back.A large necklace of delicious cheese-curdsAround his back;His halter and his traces allOf fresh butter.

A vision that appeared to me,An apparition wonderfulI tell to all:There was a coracle all of lardWithin a port of New-milk LakeUpon the world's smooth sea.

We went into that man-of-war,'Twas warrior-like to take the roadO'er ocean's heaving waves.Our oar-strokes then we pulledAcross the level of the main,Throwing the sea's harvest upLike honey, the sea-soil.

The fort we reached was beautiful,With works of custards thick,Beyond the lake.Fresh butter was the bridge in front,The rubble dyke was fair white wheat,Bacon the palisade.

Stately, pleasantly it sat,A compact house and strong.Then I went in:The door of it was hung beef,The threshold was dry bread,Cheese-curds the walls.

Smooth pillars of old cheeseAnd sappy bacon propsAlternate ranged;Stately beams of mellow cream,White posts of real curdsKept up the house.

Behind it was a well of wine,Beer and bragget in streams,Each full pool to the taste.Malt in smooth wavy seaOver a lard-spring's brinkFlowed through the floor.

A lake of juicy pottageUnder a cream of oozy lardLay 'twixt it and the sea.Hedges of butter fenced it round,Under a crest of white-mantled lardAround the wall outside.

A row of fragrant apple-trees,An orchard in its pink-tipped bloom,Between it and the hill.A forest tall of real leeks,Of onions and of carrots, stoodBehind the house.

Within, a household generous,A welcome of red, firm-fed men,Around the fire:Seven bead-strings and necklets sevenOf cheeses and of bits of tripeRound each man's neck.

The Chief in cloak of beefy fatBeside his noble wife and fairI then beheld.Below the lofty caldron's spitThen the Dispenser I beheld,His fleshfork on his back.

Wheatlet son of Milklet,Son of juicy Bacon,Is mine own name.Honeyed Butter-rollIs the man's nameThat bears my bag.

Haunch of MuttonIs my dog's name,Of lovely leaps.Lard, my wife,Sweetly smilesAcross the brose.

Cheese-curds, my daughter,Goes round the spit,Fair is her fame.Corned Beef is my son,Who beams over a cloak,Enormous, of fat.

Savour of SavoursIs the name of my wife's maid:Morning-earlyAcross New-milk Lake she went.

Beef-lard, my steed,An excellent stallionThat increases studs;A guard against toilIs the saddle of cheeseUpon his back.

A large necklace of delicious cheese-curdsAround his back;His halter and his traces allOf fresh butter.

Patrick sang this hymn when the ambuscades were laid against him by King Loeguire (Leary) that he might not go to Tara to sow the faith. Then it seemed to those lying in ambush that he and his monks were wild deer with a fawn, even Benen, following them. And its name is 'Deer's Cry.'

I arise to-dayThrough a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,Through belief in the threeness,Through confession of the onenessOf the Creator of Creation.I arise to-dayThrough the strength of Christ's birth with His baptism,Through the strength of His crucifixion with His burial,Through the strength of His resurrection with His ascension,Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of Doom.I arise to-dayThrough the strength of the love of Cherubim,In obedience of angels,In the service of archangels,In hope of resurrection to meet with reward,In prayers of patriarchs,In predictions of prophets,In preachings of apostles,In faiths of confessors,In innocence of holy virgins,In deeds of righteous men.I arise to-dayThrough the strength of heaven:Light of sun,Radiance of moon,Splendour of fire,Speed of lightning,Swiftness of wind,Depth of sea,Stability of earth,Firmness of rock.I arise to dayThrough God's strength to pilot me:God's might to uphold me,God's wisdom to guide me,God's eye to look before me,God's ear to hear me,God's word to speak for me,God's hand to guard me,God's way to lie before me,God's shield to protect me,God's host to save meFrom snares of devils,From temptations of vices,From every one who shall wish me ill,Afar and anear,Alone and in a multitude.I summon to-day all these powers between me and those evils,Against every cruel merciless power that may oppose my body and soul,Against incantations of false prophets,Against black laws of pagandom,Against false laws of heretics,Against craft of idolatry,Against spells of women and smiths and wizards,Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul.Christ to shield me to-dayAgainst poison, against burning,Against drowning, against wounding,So that there may come to me abundance of reward.Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,Christ on my right, Christ on my left,Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,Christ in the mouth of every one who speaks of me,Christ in every eye that sees me,Christ in every ear that hears me.I arise to-dayThrough a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,Through belief in the threeness,Through confession of the onenessOf the Creator of Creation.

I arise to-dayThrough a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,Through belief in the threeness,Through confession of the onenessOf the Creator of Creation.

I arise to-dayThrough the strength of Christ's birth with His baptism,Through the strength of His crucifixion with His burial,Through the strength of His resurrection with His ascension,Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of Doom.

I arise to-dayThrough the strength of the love of Cherubim,In obedience of angels,In the service of archangels,In hope of resurrection to meet with reward,In prayers of patriarchs,In predictions of prophets,In preachings of apostles,In faiths of confessors,In innocence of holy virgins,In deeds of righteous men.

I arise to-dayThrough the strength of heaven:Light of sun,Radiance of moon,Splendour of fire,Speed of lightning,Swiftness of wind,Depth of sea,Stability of earth,Firmness of rock.

I arise to dayThrough God's strength to pilot me:God's might to uphold me,God's wisdom to guide me,God's eye to look before me,God's ear to hear me,God's word to speak for me,God's hand to guard me,God's way to lie before me,God's shield to protect me,God's host to save meFrom snares of devils,From temptations of vices,From every one who shall wish me ill,Afar and anear,Alone and in a multitude.

I summon to-day all these powers between me and those evils,Against every cruel merciless power that may oppose my body and soul,Against incantations of false prophets,Against black laws of pagandom,Against false laws of heretics,Against craft of idolatry,Against spells of women and smiths and wizards,Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul.

Christ to shield me to-dayAgainst poison, against burning,Against drowning, against wounding,So that there may come to me abundance of reward.Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,Christ on my right, Christ on my left,Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,Christ in the mouth of every one who speaks of me,Christ in every eye that sees me,Christ in every ear that hears me.

I arise to-dayThrough a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,Through belief in the threeness,Through confession of the onenessOf the Creator of Creation.

PATRICK SANG THIS

May Thy holy angels, O Christ, son of living God,Guard our sleep, our rest, our shining bed.Let them reveal true visions to us in our sleep,O high-prince of the universe, O great king of the mysteries!May no demons, no ill, no calamity or terrifying dreamsDisturb our rest, our willing, prompt repose.May our watch be holy, our work, our task,Our sleep, our rest without let, without break.

May Thy holy angels, O Christ, son of living God,Guard our sleep, our rest, our shining bed.

Let them reveal true visions to us in our sleep,O high-prince of the universe, O great king of the mysteries!

May no demons, no ill, no calamity or terrifying dreamsDisturb our rest, our willing, prompt repose.

May our watch be holy, our work, our task,Our sleep, our rest without let, without break.

God's blessing upon Munster,Men, women, children!A blessing on the landWhich gives them fruit!A blessing on every wealthWhich is brought forth on their marches!No one to be in want of help:God's blessing upon Munster!A blessing on their peaks,On their bare flagstones,A blessing on their glens,A blessing on their ridges!Like sand of sea under shipsBe the number of their hearths:On slopes, on plains,On mountain-sides, on peaks.

God's blessing upon Munster,Men, women, children!A blessing on the landWhich gives them fruit!

A blessing on every wealthWhich is brought forth on their marches!No one to be in want of help:God's blessing upon Munster!

A blessing on their peaks,On their bare flagstones,A blessing on their glens,A blessing on their ridges!

Like sand of sea under shipsBe the number of their hearths:On slopes, on plains,On mountain-sides, on peaks.

I wish, O Son of the living God, O ancient, eternal King,For a hidden little hut in the wilderness that it may be my dwelling.An all-grey lithe little lark to be by its side,A clear pool to wash away sins through the grace of the Holy Spirit.Quite near, a beautiful wood around it on every side,To nurse many-voiced birds, hiding it with its shelter.A southern aspect for warmth, a little brook across its floor,A choice land with many gracious gifts such as be good for every plant.A few men of sense—we will tell their number—Humble and obedient, to pray to the King:—Four times three, three times four, fit for every need,Twice six in the church, both north and south:—Six pairs besides myself,Praying for ever the King who makes the sun shine.A pleasant church and with the linen altar-cloth, a dwelling for God from Heaven;Then, shining candles above the pure white Scriptures.One house for all to go to for the care of the body,Without ribaldry, without boasting, without thought of evil.This is the husbandry I would take, I would choose, and will not hide it:Fragrant leek, hens, salmon, trout, bees.Raiment and food enough for me from the King of fair fame,And I to be sitting for a while praying God in every place.

I wish, O Son of the living God, O ancient, eternal King,For a hidden little hut in the wilderness that it may be my dwelling.

An all-grey lithe little lark to be by its side,A clear pool to wash away sins through the grace of the Holy Spirit.

Quite near, a beautiful wood around it on every side,To nurse many-voiced birds, hiding it with its shelter.

A southern aspect for warmth, a little brook across its floor,A choice land with many gracious gifts such as be good for every plant.

A few men of sense—we will tell their number—Humble and obedient, to pray to the King:—

Four times three, three times four, fit for every need,Twice six in the church, both north and south:—

Six pairs besides myself,Praying for ever the King who makes the sun shine.

A pleasant church and with the linen altar-cloth, a dwelling for God from Heaven;Then, shining candles above the pure white Scriptures.

One house for all to go to for the care of the body,Without ribaldry, without boasting, without thought of evil.

This is the husbandry I would take, I would choose, and will not hide it:Fragrant leek, hens, salmon, trout, bees.

Raiment and food enough for me from the King of fair fame,And I to be sitting for a while praying God in every place.

Gentle Mary, noble maiden, give us help!Shrine of our Lord's body, casket of the mysteries!Queen of queens, pure holy maiden,Pray for us that our wretched transgression be forgiven for Thy sake.Merciful one, forgiving one, with the grace of the Holy Spirit,Pray with us the true-judging King of the goodly ambrosial clan.Branch of Jesse's tree in the beauteous hazel-wood,Pray for me until I obtain forgiveness of my foul sins.Mary, splendid diadem, Thou that hast saved our race,Glorious noble torch, orchard of Kings!Brilliant one, transplendent one, with the deed of pure chastity,Fair golden illumined ark, holy daughter from Heaven!Mother of righteousness, Thou that excellest all else,Pray with me Thy first-born to save me on the day of Doom.Noble rare star, tree under blossom,Powerful choice lamp, sun that warmeth every one.Ladder of the great track by which every saint ascends,Mayst Thou be our safeguard towards the glorious Kingdom.Fair fragrant seat chosen by the King,The noble guest who was in Thy womb three times three months.Glorious royal porch through which He was incarnated,The splendid chosen sun, Jesus, Son of the living God.For the sake of the fair babe that was conceived in Thy womb,For the sake of the holy child that is High-King in every place,For the sake of His cross that is higher than any cross,For the sake of His burial when He was buried in a stone-tomb,For the sake of His resurrection when He arose before every one,For the sake of the holy household from every place to Doom,Be Thou our safeguard in the Kingdom of the good Lord,That we may meet with dear Jesus—that is our prayer—hail!

Gentle Mary, noble maiden, give us help!Shrine of our Lord's body, casket of the mysteries!

Queen of queens, pure holy maiden,Pray for us that our wretched transgression be forgiven for Thy sake.

Merciful one, forgiving one, with the grace of the Holy Spirit,Pray with us the true-judging King of the goodly ambrosial clan.

Branch of Jesse's tree in the beauteous hazel-wood,Pray for me until I obtain forgiveness of my foul sins.

Mary, splendid diadem, Thou that hast saved our race,Glorious noble torch, orchard of Kings!

Brilliant one, transplendent one, with the deed of pure chastity,Fair golden illumined ark, holy daughter from Heaven!

Mother of righteousness, Thou that excellest all else,Pray with me Thy first-born to save me on the day of Doom.

Noble rare star, tree under blossom,Powerful choice lamp, sun that warmeth every one.

Ladder of the great track by which every saint ascends,Mayst Thou be our safeguard towards the glorious Kingdom.

Fair fragrant seat chosen by the King,The noble guest who was in Thy womb three times three months.

Glorious royal porch through which He was incarnated,The splendid chosen sun, Jesus, Son of the living God.

For the sake of the fair babe that was conceived in Thy womb,For the sake of the holy child that is High-King in every place,

For the sake of His cross that is higher than any cross,For the sake of His burial when He was buried in a stone-tomb,

For the sake of His resurrection when He arose before every one,For the sake of the holy household from every place to Doom,

Be Thou our safeguard in the Kingdom of the good Lord,That we may meet with dear Jesus—that is our prayer—hail!

I am Eve, great Adam's wife,'Tis I that outraged Jesus of old;'Tis I that robbed my children of Heaven,By rights 'tis I that should have gone upon the cross.I had a kingly house to please me,Grievous the evil choice that disgraced me,Grievous the wicked advice that withered me!Alas! my hand is not pure.'Tis I that plucked the apple,Which went across my gullet:So long as they endure in the light of day,So long women will not cease from folly.There would be no ice in any place,There would be no glistening windy winter,There would be no hell, there would be no sorrow,There would be no fear, if it were not for me.

I am Eve, great Adam's wife,'Tis I that outraged Jesus of old;'Tis I that robbed my children of Heaven,By rights 'tis I that should have gone upon the cross.

I had a kingly house to please me,Grievous the evil choice that disgraced me,Grievous the wicked advice that withered me!Alas! my hand is not pure.

'Tis I that plucked the apple,Which went across my gullet:So long as they endure in the light of day,So long women will not cease from folly.

There would be no ice in any place,There would be no glistening windy winter,There would be no hell, there would be no sorrow,There would be no fear, if it were not for me.

Shame to my thoughts, how they stray from me!I fear great danger from it on the day of eternal Doom.During the psalms they wander on a path that is not right:They fash, they fret, they misbehave before the eyes of great God.Through eager crowds, through companies of wanton women,Through woods, through cities—swifter they are than the wind.Now through paths of loveliness, anon of riotous shame!Without a ferry or ever missing a step they go across every sea:Swiftly they leap in one bound from earth to heaven.They run a race of folly anear and afar:After a course of giddiness they return to their home.Though one should try to bind them or put shackles on their feet,They are neither constant nor mindful to take a spell of rest.Neither sword-edge nor crack of whip will keep them down strongly:As slippery as an eel's tail they glide out of my grasp.Neither lock nor firm-vaulted dungeon nor any fetter on earth,Stronghold nor sea nor bleak fastness restrains them from their course.O beloved truly chaste Christ to whom every eye is clear,May the grace of the seven-fold Spirit come to keep them, to check them!Rule this heart of mine, O dread God of the elements,That Thou mayst be my love, that I may do Thy will.That I may reach Christ with His chosen companions, that we may be together!Theyare neither fickle nor inconstant—not as I am.

Shame to my thoughts, how they stray from me!I fear great danger from it on the day of eternal Doom.

During the psalms they wander on a path that is not right:They fash, they fret, they misbehave before the eyes of great God.

Through eager crowds, through companies of wanton women,Through woods, through cities—swifter they are than the wind.

Now through paths of loveliness, anon of riotous shame!

Without a ferry or ever missing a step they go across every sea:Swiftly they leap in one bound from earth to heaven.

They run a race of folly anear and afar:After a course of giddiness they return to their home.

Though one should try to bind them or put shackles on their feet,They are neither constant nor mindful to take a spell of rest.

Neither sword-edge nor crack of whip will keep them down strongly:As slippery as an eel's tail they glide out of my grasp.

Neither lock nor firm-vaulted dungeon nor any fetter on earth,Stronghold nor sea nor bleak fastness restrains them from their course.

O beloved truly chaste Christ to whom every eye is clear,May the grace of the seven-fold Spirit come to keep them, to check them!

Rule this heart of mine, O dread God of the elements,That Thou mayst be my love, that I may do Thy will.

That I may reach Christ with His chosen companions, that we may be together!Theyare neither fickle nor inconstant—not as I am.

Crinog, melodious is your song.Though young no more you are still bashful.We two grew up together in Niall's northern land,When we used to sleep together in tranquil slumber.That was my age when you slept with me,O peerless lady of pleasant wisdom:A pure-hearted youth, lovely without a flaw,A gentle boy of seven sweet years.We lived in the great world of Banva[13]Without sullying soul or body,My flashing eye full of love for you,Like a poor innocent untempted by evil.Your just counsel is ever ready,Wherever we are we seek it:To love your penetrating wisdom is betterThan glib discourse with a king.Since then you have slept with four men after me,Without folly or falling away:I know, I hear it on all sides,You are pure, without sin from man.At last, after weary wanderings,You have come to me again,Darkness of age has settled on your face:Sinless your life draws near its end.You are still dear to me, faultless one,You shall have welcome from me without stint;You will not let us be drowned in torment:We will earnestly practise devotion with you.The lasting world is full of your fame,Far and wide you have wandered on every track:If every day we followed your ways,We should come safe into the presence of dread God.You leave an example and a bequestTo every one in this world,You have taught us by your life:Earnest prayer to God is no fallacy.Then may God grant us peace and happiness!May the countenance of the KingShine brightly upon usWhen we leave behind us our withered bodies.

Crinog, melodious is your song.Though young no more you are still bashful.We two grew up together in Niall's northern land,When we used to sleep together in tranquil slumber.

That was my age when you slept with me,O peerless lady of pleasant wisdom:A pure-hearted youth, lovely without a flaw,A gentle boy of seven sweet years.

We lived in the great world of Banva[13]Without sullying soul or body,My flashing eye full of love for you,Like a poor innocent untempted by evil.

Your just counsel is ever ready,Wherever we are we seek it:To love your penetrating wisdom is betterThan glib discourse with a king.

Since then you have slept with four men after me,Without folly or falling away:I know, I hear it on all sides,You are pure, without sin from man.

At last, after weary wanderings,You have come to me again,Darkness of age has settled on your face:Sinless your life draws near its end.

You are still dear to me, faultless one,You shall have welcome from me without stint;You will not let us be drowned in torment:We will earnestly practise devotion with you.

The lasting world is full of your fame,Far and wide you have wandered on every track:If every day we followed your ways,We should come safe into the presence of dread God.

You leave an example and a bequestTo every one in this world,You have taught us by your life:Earnest prayer to God is no fallacy.

Then may God grant us peace and happiness!May the countenance of the KingShine brightly upon usWhen we leave behind us our withered bodies.

FOOTNOTES:[13]A name for Ireland.

[13]A name for Ireland.

Once as Moling was praying in his church he saw a man coming in to him. Purple raiment he wore and a distinguished form had he. 'Well met, cleric!' says he. 'Amen!' says Moling. 'Why dost thou not salute me?' says the man. 'Who art thou?' says Moling. 'I am Christ, the Son of God,' he answers. 'I do not know that,' says Moling. 'When Christ used to come to converse with God's servants, 'twas not in purple or with royal pomp he would come, but in the shape of a leper.' 'Then dost thou not believe in me?' says the man. 'Whom dost thou suppose to be here?' 'I suppose,' says Moling, 'that it is the Devil for my hurt.' 'Thy unbelief will be ill for thee,' says the man. 'Well,' says Moling, raising the Gospel, 'here is thy successor, the Gospel of Christ.' 'Raise it not, cleric!' says the Devil; 'it is as thou thinkest: I am the man of tribulations.' 'Wherefore hast thou come?' says Moling. 'That thou mayst bestow a blessing upon me.' 'I will not bestow it,' says Moling, 'for thou dost not deserve it. Besides, what good could it do thee?' 'If,' says the Devil, 'thou shouldst go into a tub of honey and bathe therein with thy raiment on, its odour would remain upon thee unless the raiment were washed.' 'How would that affect thee?' asks Moling. 'Because, though thy blessing do nought else to me, its good luck and its virtue and its blossom will be on me externally.' 'Thou shalt not have it,' says Moling, 'for thou deservest it not.' 'Well,' said the Devil, 'then bestow the full of a curse on me.' 'What good were that to thee?' asks Moling. 'The venom and the hurt of the curse will be on the lips from which it will come.' 'Go,' says Moling; 'thou hast no right to a blessing.' 'Better were it for me that I had. How shall I earn it?' 'By service to God,' says Moling. 'Woe is me!' says the Devil, 'I cannot bring it.' 'Even a trifle of study.' 'Thine own study is not greater, and yet it helps me not.' 'Fasting, then,' says Moling. 'I have been fasting since the beginning of the world, and not the better thereof am I.' 'Making genuflexions,' says Moling. 'I cannot bend forward,' says the Devil, 'for backwards are my knees.' 'Go forth,' says Moling; 'I cannot teach thee nor help thee.' Then the Devil said:

He is pure gold, he is the sky around the sun,He is a vessel of silver with wine,He is an angel, he is holy wisdom,Whoso doth the will of the King.He is a bird round which a trap closes,He is a leaky ship in perilous danger,He is an empty vessel, a withered tree,Who doth not the will of the King above.He is a fragrant branch with its blossom,He is a vessel full of honey,He is a precious stone with its virtue,Whoso doth the will of God's Son from Heaven.He is a blind nut in which there is no good,He is a stinking rottenness, a withered tree,He is a branch of a blossomless crab-apple,Whoso doth not the will of the King.Whoso doth the will of God's Son from HeavenIs a brilliant summer-sun,Is a daïs of God of Heaven,Is a pure crystalline vessel.He is a victorious racehorse over a smooth plain,The man that striveth after the Kingdom of great God;He is a chariot that is seenUnder a triumphant king.He is a sun that warms holy Heaven,A man with whom the Great King is pleased,He is a temple blessed, noble,He is a holy shrine bedecked with gold.He is an altar on which wine is dealt,Round which a multitude of melodies is sung,He is a cleansed chalice with liquor,He is fair white bronze, he is gold.

He is pure gold, he is the sky around the sun,He is a vessel of silver with wine,He is an angel, he is holy wisdom,Whoso doth the will of the King.

He is a bird round which a trap closes,He is a leaky ship in perilous danger,He is an empty vessel, a withered tree,Who doth not the will of the King above.

He is a fragrant branch with its blossom,He is a vessel full of honey,He is a precious stone with its virtue,Whoso doth the will of God's Son from Heaven.

He is a blind nut in which there is no good,He is a stinking rottenness, a withered tree,He is a branch of a blossomless crab-apple,Whoso doth not the will of the King.

Whoso doth the will of God's Son from HeavenIs a brilliant summer-sun,Is a daïs of God of Heaven,Is a pure crystalline vessel.

He is a victorious racehorse over a smooth plain,The man that striveth after the Kingdom of great God;He is a chariot that is seenUnder a triumphant king.

He is a sun that warms holy Heaven,A man with whom the Great King is pleased,He is a temple blessed, noble,He is a holy shrine bedecked with gold.

He is an altar on which wine is dealt,Round which a multitude of melodies is sung,He is a cleansed chalice with liquor,He is fair white bronze, he is gold.

O angel!Bear, O Michael of great miracles,To the Lord my plaint.Hearest thou?Ask of forgiving GodForgiveness of all my vast evil.Delay not!Carry my fervent prayerTo the King, to the great King!To my soulBring help, bring comfortAt the hour of its leaving earth.StoutlyTo meet my expectant soulCome with many thousand angels!O soldier!Against the crooked, wicked, militant worldCome to my help in earnest!Do notDisdain what I say!As long as I live do not desert me!Thee I choose,That thou mayst save my soul,My mind, my sense, my body.O thou of goodly counsels,Victorious, triumphant one,Angelic slayer of Antichrist!

O angel!Bear, O Michael of great miracles,To the Lord my plaint.

Hearest thou?Ask of forgiving GodForgiveness of all my vast evil.

Delay not!Carry my fervent prayerTo the King, to the great King!

To my soulBring help, bring comfortAt the hour of its leaving earth.

StoutlyTo meet my expectant soulCome with many thousand angels!

O soldier!Against the crooked, wicked, militant worldCome to my help in earnest!

Do notDisdain what I say!As long as I live do not desert me!

Thee I choose,That thou mayst save my soul,My mind, my sense, my body.

O thou of goodly counsels,Victorious, triumphant one,Angelic slayer of Antichrist!

Then, as the executioner plucked her son from her breast, one of the women said:

Why do you tear from me my darling son,The fruit of my womb?It was I who bore him,My breast he drank.My womb carried him about,My vitals he sucked,My heart he filled.He was my life,'Tis death to have him taken from me.My strength has ebbed,My speech is silenced,My eyes are blinded.

Then another woman said:

It is my son you take from me.I did not do the evil,But kill me—me!Kill not my son!My breasts are sapless,My eyes are wet,My hands shake,My poor body totters.My husband has no son,And I no strength.My life is like death.O my own son, O God!My youth without reward,My birthless sicknessesWithout requital until Doom.My breasts are silent,My heart is wrung.

Then said another woman:

Ye are seeking to kill one,Ye are killing many.Infants ye slay,The fathers ye wound,The mothers ye kill.Hell with your deed is full,Heaven is shut,Ye have spilt the blood of guiltless innocents.

And yet another woman said:

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