The Shaving Of Murdoch

When he and Cathal of the Red Hand, King of Connaught, entered the monastic life together. Murdoch, whet thy knife, that we may shave our crowns to the Great King, Let us sweetly give our vow, and the hair of both our heads to the Trinity. I will shave mine to Mary, this is the doing of a true heart, To Mary shave thou these locks, well-formed, soft-eyed man. Seldom hast thou had, handsome man, a knife on thy hair to shave it, Oftener has a sweet, soft queen, comb'd her hair beside thee....

The Downfall Of The Gael

By O'Gnivt-, bai d of Shan O Neill, circa 156 a And my soul deep in trouble,- -For the mighty arc low, And abased are the noble. The Sons of the Gael Are in exile and Humming, Worn, weary, and pale, As spent pilgrims re-turring Or men who, in flight From the field of disaster, beseech the black night On their ilight to fall faster When their planks gape asunder, And the waves fierce and fast Tumble through in hoarse thunder , That have got their death-omen Such wretches are we Our nobility...

Eileen Aroon

Carol O'Daly, early thirteenth century. ComEj love, and dwell with me, Eileen aroon I'll roam the world with thee, Eileen aroon Down to Terawley free, From this sad house we'll flee, If thou wilt wed with me, Eileen aroon Eileen aroon All fear and doubt shall cease, Eileen aroon. If thou wilt seek my side, If thou wilt be my bride, All matters not beside, Eileen aroon. Eileen aroon Ah do not say me nay, I come, I come to thee, Life of the world to me, Nought holds me, for I flee Thus to thy...

Digitized by Microsoft

And who can marvel o'er thy grief, Or who can blame thy flowing tears, Who knows their source O'Donnell, Dunnasava's chief, Cut off amid his vernal years, Lies here a corse Beside his brother Cathbar, whofn Tyrconnell of the Helmets mourns In deep despair For valour, truth, and comely bloom, For all that greatens and adorns, A peerless pair. Oh, had these twain, and he, the third, The Lord of Mourne, O'Niall's son (Their mate in death, A prince in look, in deed, and word), Had these three...

Lament For The Princes Of Tyrone And Tyrconnel

Buried in San Pietro Montorio at Rome Addressed to Nuala, the O'Donnell's sister, by Owen Roe mac an Bhaird (or Ward), the family Bard, in 1608-9. mound of clay With sigh and groan, Would God thou wert among the Gael Thou would'st not then from day to day Weep thus alone. 'Twere long before one could find This loneliness Near where Beann-Boirche's banners wave, Such grief as thine could ne'er have pined Beside the wave in Donegal, In Antrim's glens, or fair Dromore, Or Killilee, On Derry's...

Lament Of Morian Shehone For Miss Mary Bourke

There's darkness in thy dwelling-place and silence reigns above, And Mary's voice is heard no more, like the soft voice of love. Yes thou art gone, my Mary dear And Morian Shehone Is left to sing his song of woe, and wail for thee alone. Oh snow-white were thy virtues the beautiful, the young, The old with pleasure bent to hear the music of thy tongue The young with rapture gazed on thee, and their hearts in love were bound, For thou wast brighter than the sun that sheds its light around. My...

The Saltair Na Rann

Provided that I fall (jrst the measure) for my sins, for my transgression, clearly the greater mercy will thy God shew towards thee. Greatly have we offended the King, said he, said Adam, without contempt, O Wife, I will not commit murder on thee, though I be famished, thorgh I be naked. I will not lift my hand upon my own blood, my own flesh how great scever thy crime, it is from my body thou art It is not fitting for us in any way to outrage Him igain so th t the true Prince, O wife, may not...

The grief of a girls heart

Some of the verses in thi poem are identical with those found in Donall Oge, and also with the poem called Breed Astore' in Dr. Hyde's Love Sorgs of Connaushi. I have omitted those which occur in the former poem and added one quatraiii from the latter, which it would be a pity to leave out. They seem to have been all parts of the same long poem. Here again we have Donall Oge or ' Young Donall as the lover. 0 Donall Oge, if you will go across the sea, Bring myself with you, and do not forget it...

The Lamentation Of Fanb When She Is About To Leave Cuchulain

From the Jibed of Cuchulp.in,' l is who must go on this journey, Our great necessity were best for me Though another should have an equal fame Happier it were for me to be here, Subject to thee without reproach, Than to go, though strange it may seem to thee, To the royal seat of Aed Abrat. The man is thine, O F.mer, He has broken from me, O noble wife, No less, the thing that my hard cannot Many men were seeking me Both 'n shelters and in seeret places My tryst was never made with them,...

The Song Of Manchan The Hermit

Abbot of Liath Manchan, now Lemanaghan, in King's Co. Died 665 A-DI wish, O Son of the Living God, O Ancient Eternal King, For a hidden hut in the wilderness, a simple secluded thing. The all-blithe lithe little lark in his place, chanting his lightsome lay The calm, clear pool of the Spirit's grace, washing my sins away. A wide, wild woodland on every side, its shades the nursery Of glad-voiced songsters, who at day-dawn chant their sweet psalm for me. A southern aspect to catch the sun, a...

The Outlaw Of Loch Lene

Oh, many a day have I made good ale in the glen, That came not of stream or malt like the brewing of men. My bed was the ground my roof, the greenwood above, And the wealth that I sought, one far kind glance from my love. Alas on that night when the horses I drove from the field, That I was not near from terror my angel to shield. She stretched forth her arms her mantle she flung to the wind, And swam o'er Loch Lene her outlawed lover to find. Oh would that a freezing, sleet-winged tempest did...

The Song Of The Seven Archangels

Now, Gabriel, be with my heart On this first day of seven, He, first of the Archangels And Thou, High King of Heaven. Michael be mine, if Monday dawn, Michael I call upon, There is none like thee, Michael, None but Jesu, Mary's Son. And oh if Tuesday sorrow bring, Let Raphael help it forth, One of the seven that hears us weep, Sad women of this earth. And Uriel hear, if Wednesday wake, In his nobility, And heal our wounds and care for us And calm this wind-torn sea. And Sariel, should Thursday...

Ancient Pagan Poems

The Source of Poetic Inspiration (founded on translation by Whitley Stokes) 53 Amorgen's Song (founded on translation by John Greeting to the New-born Babe . . . .61 What is Love 62 Laegh's Description of Fairy-land 65 The Lamentation of Fand when she is about to The Song of the Fairies . . . A. H. Leahy 73 The great Lamentation of Deirdre for the Sons of

C

The voice of iovc is alilce in every age. It has no date. Having written so far, we begin to wonder whether it was wise or necessary to set so much prose between the reader and the poems which, as we hope, he wishes to read. In an ordinary anthology, the nterruptien of a long preface is a stake and an intrusion, for, more than any other good art, good poetry must explain itself. The mood in which a poem touches us acutely may be recorded, but it cannot be...