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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.
PAGE
I. Legends and Early History, 1
II. The Song of Inisfail, 7
III. Religion of the Pagan Irish, 8
IV. Customs and Modes of Life, 14
=The Fate of the Children of Lir.=
V. The Children of Lir turned to
Swans, 22
VI. The Swans on Lake Darvra, 27
VII. The Swans on the Sea of Moyle, 32
VIII. Death of the Children of Lir, 39
IX. Religion and Learning in
Ancient Ireland, 45
X. The Red Branch Knights, 50
=The Fate of the Sons of Usna.=
XI. The Flight to Alban, 55
XII. Concobar's guileful Message, 60
XIII. The Return to Emain, 66
XIV. Trouble Looming, 72
XV. The Attack on the Sons of
Usna, 75
XVI. Death of the Sons of Usna, 80
XVII. Avenging and Bright, 84
XVIII. The Wrath of Fergus, 85
XIX. Ancient Irish Physicians: I. 87
XX. Ancient Irish Physicians: II. 89
XXI. The Fena of Erin, 92
XXII. The Chase of Slieve Cullin, 98
XXIII. Saint Brigit: I., 103
XXIV. Saint Brigit: II., 107
XXV. Saint Brigit: III., 111
XXVI. Irish Scribes and Books, 114
XXVII. The Gilla Dacker and his
Horse, 120
XXVIII. The Fena carried off by the
Horse, 123
XXIX. Dermot O'Dyna at the Well, 129
XXX. Dermot and the
Wizard-Champion, 132
XXXI. Saint Columkille: I., 139
XXXII. Saint Columkille: II., 145
XXXIII. Prince Alfred in Ireland, 150
=The Voyage of Maildune.=
XXXIV. The Voyage of Maildune, 155
The First Island, 157
XXXV. An Extraordinary Monster, 160
The Silver Pillar of the Sea 160
XXXVI. Maildune forgives his enemy, 162
XXXVII. Tennyson's "Voyage of
Maildune," 164
XXXVIII. Saint Donatus: I., 167
XXXIX. Saint Donatus: II., 170
XL. Danish and Anglo-Norman
Invasions, 173
XLI. The Watchfire of Barnalee, 179
XLII. Cahal O'Conor of the Red Hand, 181
XLIII. Cahal-More of the Wine-red
hand, 186
XLIV. Sir John de Courcy, 190
XLV. Sir John de Courcy imprisoned, 193
XLVI. Sir John de Courcy accepts
a challenge, 197
XLVII. Sir John de Courcy and the
French Champion, 200
XLVIII. The Earls of Kildare and
Ormond, 203
XLIX. Ancient Irish Music, 208
Notes and Explanations, 213
[Illustration: Ornament from the Book of Kells. See page 117.]
I.
LEGENDS AND EARLY HISTORY.[1-1]
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.
[1-1] It is necessary to know the substance of this first sketch in
order to understand the rest of the book.
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,[2-1] 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,"[2-2] or Milesius, from whom they
came to be called Milesians.
[2-1] Inisfail, one of the old names of Ireland.
[2-2] Miled, pronounced _Mee-le_ (two syllables).
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.
[Illustration: 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.[5-1]
[5-1] The Anglo-Norman Invasion will be found described at page 175.
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.
[Illustration: 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;[12-1]
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.
[12-1] Demons of the air were evil spirits who were supposed to live,
not in underground places like fairies, but in the air.
They were very much dreaded and hated.
[Illustration: Stone hatchet in the National Museum, Dublin: probably
used as a battle-axe. Before metals came into general use, tools and
weapons of various kinds, in Ireland as well as in other countries, were
made of stone, flint being commonly used for making cutting-instruments,
such as knives. But this was at a very early period, mostly before the
time when our written history begins.]
[Illustration: Bronze head of Irish battle-mace: now in the National
Museum Dublin. It was fitted with a handle which was fastened in the
socket; and it was used for striking in battle. It is double the size of
the picture. Weapons of this kind were in use at a very early time, long
before the beginning of our regular history.]
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.
[Illustration: 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.
[Illustration: 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.
[Illustration: 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.
[Illustration: Ancient Irish bronze caldron for boiling meat, 12-1/2
inches deep, formed of plates beautifully rivetted together. It shows
marks and signs of long use over a fire. Now in the National Museum,
Dublin.]
[Illustration: Irish drinking vessel, called a _Mether_. They drank from
the corners. At meals, the same mether was used by several persons, who
drank from it in turn.]
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.
[Illustration: Ancient Irish Gorget for the neck: of gold, reddish in
colour, and very pure: weighs 16-1/3 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.
[Illustration: 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.]
[Illustration: One form of Irish Ornament.]
The Fate of the Children of Lir[22-1]; 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.
[22-1] Among the ancient Irish Romantic Tales, three are specially
known as "The Three Sorrowful Stories of Erin," viz. "The
Fate of the Children of Lir," "The Fate of the Sons of
Turenn," both of which relate to the Dedannans; and "The
Fate of the Sons of Usna," referring to the Milesian
people. The greater part of the "Children of Lir" and the
whole of the "Sons of Usna" are given in this book,
translated from the Gaelic. "The Fate of the Sons of
Turenn" is translated in full in "Old Celtic Romances."
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,[24-1] 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.
[24-1] Lake Darvra, now Lough Derravaragh, in Westmeath.
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;[25-1] three hundred years at Inish
Glora[25-2] on the Western Sea. Until the union of Largnen, the prince
from the north, with Decca, the princess from the south; until the
Taillkenn[25-3] 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."
[25-1] The sea between Erin and Alban (Ireland and Scotland) was
anciently called the Sea of Moyle, from the Moyle, or
Mull, of Cantire.
[25-2] Inish Glora; a small island, about five miles west from
Belmullet, in the county Mayo, still known by the same
name.
[25-3] The Taillkenn, a name given by the druids to St. Patrick.
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 a husk of gore,
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[30-1] 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?"
[30-1] Three hundred years: the Dedannans were regarded as gods and
lived an immensely long time.
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,[33-1] for that is a rock that we are all very well
acquainted with."
[33-1] Carricknarone, the "Rock of the Seals": probably the Skerry
rock near Portrush in Antrim: but the old name is now
forgotten.
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![36-1]
[36-1] Short Irish poems often began and ended in the same words, as
seen in the above translation.
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--