Glenshee,[91] the vale that close beside me lies,
Where sweetest sounds are heard of deer and elk,
And where the Feinn did oft pursue the chase,
Following their hounds along the lengthening vale.
Below the great Ben Gulbin’s[92] grassy height
Of fairest knolls that lie beneath the sun,
The valley winds. Its streams did oft run red,
After a hunt by Finn and by the Feinn.
Listen now while I detail the loss
Of one, a hero in this gentle band:
’Tis of Ben Gulbin, and of generous Finn,
And Mac O’Duine,[93] in truth a piteous tale.
A mournful hunt indeed it was for Finn,
When Mac O’Duine, he of the ruddiest hue,
Up to Ben Gulbin went, resolved to hunt
The boar,[94] whom arms had never yet subdued.
Though Mac O’Duine, of brightest burnished arms,
Did bravely slay the fierce and furious boar,
Yet Finn’s deceit did him induce to yield;
And this it was that did his grievous hurt.
Who among men was so beloved as he?
Brave Mac O’Duine, beloved of the schools;[95]
Women all mourn this sad and piteous tale
Of him who firmly grasped the murderous spear.
Then bravely did the hero of the Feinn
Rouse from his cover in the mountain side,
The great old Boar, him so well known in Shee,
The greatest in the wild boar’s haunt e’er seen.
Glad now was Finn, the man of ruddiest hue,
Beneath Ben Gulbin’s soft and grassy side;
For swift the boar now coursed along the heath;
Great was the ill came of that dreadful hunt.
’Twas when he heard the Feinn’s loud ringing shout,
And saw approach the glittering of their arms,
The monster waken’d from his heavy sleep,
And stately moved before them down the vale.
First, to distance them he makes attempt,
The great old boar, his bristles stiff on end,
These bristles sharper than a pointed spear,
Their point more piercing than the quiver’s shaft.
Then Mac O’Duine with arms well pointed too,
Answers the horrid beast with ready hand:
Away from his side there rushed the heavy spear,
Hard following on the course the boar pursued.
The javelin’s shaft fell shivered into three,
The shaft recoiling from the boar’s tough hide.
The spear hurled by his warm red-fingered hand
Ne’er penetrated the body of the boar.
Then from its sheath he drew his thin-leaved[96] sword,
Of all the arms most crown’d with victory;
Mac O’Duine did there the monster kill,
While he himself escaped without a wound.
Then on Finn of the Feinn did sadness fall,
And on the mountain side he sat him down;
It grieved his soul that generous Mac O’Duine
Should have escaped unwounded by the boar.
For long he sat, and never spake a word,
Then thus he spake, although ’t be sad to tell,
“Measure, Diarmad, the boar down from the snout,
And tell how many feet ’s the brute in length.”
What Finn did ask he never yet refused;
Alas! that he should never see his home.
Along the back he measures now the boar,
Light-footed Mac O’Duine of active step.
“Measure it the other way against the hair,
And measure, Diarmad, carefully the boar.”
It was indeed for thee a mournful deed,
Youth of the sharply-pointed piercing arms.
He went, the errand grievous was and sad,
And measured for them once again the boar.
Th’ envenomed pointed bristle sharply pierced
The sole of him,[97] the bravest in the field.
Then fell and lay upon the grassy plain
The noble Mac O’Duine, whose look spoke truth;
He fell and lay along beside the boar,
And there you have my mournful, saddening tale.
There does he lie now wounded to the death,
Brave Mac O’Duine, so skilful in the fight;
The most enduring ev’n among the Feinn,
He lies upon the knoll I see on high,
The blue-eyed hawk that dwelt at Essaroy,[98]
The conqueror in every sore-fought field,
Slain by the poisoned bristle of the boar.
Now does he lie full stretched upon the hill,
Brave, noble Diarmad Mac O’Duine!
Slain, it is shame! victim of jealousy.[99]
Whiter his body than the sun’s bright light,
Redder his lips than blossoms tinged with red;
Long yellow locks did rest upon his head,
His eye was clear beneath the covering brow,
Its colour mingled was of blue and grey;
Waving and graceful were his locks behind,[100]
His speech was elegant and sweetly soft;
His hands the whitest, fingers tipped with red;
Elegance and power were in his form,
His fair soft skin covering a faultless shape,
No woman saw him but he won her love.
Mac O’Duine crowned with his countless victories,
Ne’er shall he raise his eye in courtship more,
Or warriors’ wrath give colour to his cheek;
The following of the chase, the prancing steed,
Will never move him, nor the search for spoil.
He who could bear him well in every fight,
Has now us sadly left in that wild vale.
Glenshee.
[90] This Poet is obviously a Scotchman; but judging from another of
his compositions in this volume, he was, like the Scottish bards of
his time, well acquainted with the bardic literature of Ireland. This
arose from the frequent intercourse between the two countries during
their early history, and the number of Scotchmen educated both in the
Medical and Bardic Schools of Ireland. This is one of the circumstances
which renders it so difficult now, in the absence of authentic
historical documents, to extricate much of the social history of the
two countries. Hence the rival Scottish and Irish claims to many of
our Celtic literary remains. There is no doubt that the poets of both
countries interwove with their compositions the traditions of the race,
without much regard to whether these were Scotch or Irish. The Irish
trace this common literature to the fact of the Irish colonization of
Scotland, which they maintain was the origin of the Celtic population
of the latter country; but it is by no means necessary to go so far
back in order to find sufficient cause for the fact. Christianity
seems to have formed the first solid basis of union between the two
countries, and a common Christianity was without doubt the means
of long maintaining it. This composition is usually called “Bàs
Dhiarmaid,” _The death of Diarmad_.
[91] A valley in the eastern part of Perthshire, where the grave
of Diarmad is pointed out to this day. M’Rorie appears to have
been an inhabitant of the neighbourhood, for he speaks of Glenshee
as being close beside him. The name of Glenshee is derived from
the word “Gleann,” _a valley_, and “sìth,” _a hill_ of a peculiar
form. This word is found in the names of several Scottish hills, as
“Sìth challain,” _Schihallion_; “Beinn shìth,” _Ben Hi_; “An t-Sìth
mhòr,” _the great pointed hill_. “Sìthan,” a hillock. The word has
been often mistaken for “Sìth,” _peace_, whence the name “Sitheach,
sithichean,” _a fairy, fairies_, has been absurdly rendered _the peace
folk_, instead of _the folk of the hills_, referring to their reputed
residence in earthen mounds.
[92] “Ben Gulbin,” _the mountain of the beak_, lies at the head of
Glenshee. There is a hill with a similar name in Ireland, whence Conall
Gulbain, one of the kings of Ulster, took his designation. There is a
“water of Gulbin,” and a “Torgulbin,” in the braes of Lochaber; but
the reference to Glenshee fixes the scene of the death of Diarmad in
Perthshire. There is, as is common in Highland topography, a stream
called Gulbin, whence a valley of the same name, and then a mountain.
The names in similar cases seem to have been primarily attached to the
streams, whence they ascended through the valleys to the hills. We have
an instance of this in the River Nevis, Glen Nevis, Ben Nevis, the
“neamhais,” referring to its impetuosity, having been in all likelihood
originally applied to the stream.
[93] Mac O’Duine is the patronymic of Diarmad. Hence the Campbell clan,
besides being called “Clann Diarmaid,” _The race of Diarmad_, are
called also “Clann O’Dùine,” or _The children of O’Duine_.
[94] The chase of the boar was a favourite employment among the ancient
Celts. It is celebrated in many of their tales. Besides this, the sow
enters largely into their ancient mythology. Even in this case the boar
was possessed of magical properties, as will be seen in the subsequent
portion of this poem. It is not unlikely that at an early period the
Celts worshipped the sow like the Egyptians, whose worship of it might
have been one reason why it was pronounced unclean. Whether the Celts
worshipped it or not, it is manifest that it was held in high esteem,
for its figure is engraved on most of the ancient sculptured stones
of Scotland. Among the Welsh it is a national emblem, and hence one
argument for the ancient Picts being British, as these stones are found
confined to the ancient Pictish territory. The word “muc,” _a sow_,
enters largely into Scottish topography. We have “Eilean nam muc,” the
_Isle of muck_, or _Sow island_. The ancient name of St. Andrews was
“Muc ros,” _the Sow’s headland_, and we know that the sow is associated
with the memory of St. Regulus. There is a “Bridge of Turk,” or _the
Boar’s bridge_, near the Trosachs. There is a “Slochd muice,” or the
_Sow’s hollow_, near Inverness, on the Highland road, a name derived
from a hillock shaped like a sow’s back, in the bottom of the chasm a
little to the west of where the coach road crosses; and there is “Sròn
muice,” _The Sow’s snout_, on the north side of Loch Ness, derived from
the resemblance of a hill-face to that part of the animal. These two
latter names are manifestly derived from natural resemblances, and have
nothing to do with mythology.
[95] The “schools,” referred to frequently in Ossianic tales, were
probably military, although there can be no doubt that there was a
learned class among the ancient Celts. Cæsar tells us, as already
observed, that the Gauls used the Greek letters, and that their priests
were educated in Britain. The “oghum” character, whose antiquity is
pretty thoroughly established, is another evidence of ancient literary
cultivation.
[96] The Gaelic is “tan-lann,” the _thin sword_. Was this steel or
merely bronze? The thinness would seem to indicate steel.
[97] It is hardly necessary to point out the resemblance here between
the sole of Diarmad and the heel of Achilles. Achilles could only
be wounded in the heel, Diarmad only in the sole of the foot. The
Adonis of the ancient Greeks was slain by a boar. There are remarkable
analogies between classical and Celtic tradition.
[98] Essaroy, _vide supra_, p. 18, n. This is manifestly the Essaroy of
Scotland, which is in the heart of one of the finest hunting regions in
the world. Nor is it at any great distance from either of the Gulbins.
[99] Grainne, the wife of Finn, had formed an unlawful attachment to
Diarmad. The latter had what is called a “Ball seirce,” or _beauty
spot_, which no woman could resist. Hence Finn’s jealousy and desire to
destroy Diarmad. The word rendered here “naire,” _shame_, is in the MS.
“noor,” _gold_. If this be the accurate reading, Grainne’s dowery must
have formed an element in the conflict.
[100] Yellow was the favourite colour of the ancient Celt. “Falt
buidh,” _yellow hair_, is an object of the highest admiration, and
the longer and more waving the locks, the greater the admiration. The
account the Celt gives of himself is somewhat different from that given
by his neighbours, who would paint him a wiry, thin, black-haired,
black-eyed man. Tacitus gave a different description; and any man who
travels the Highlands of Perthshire, where, perhaps, we have the purest
Celtic blood in Scotland, will have ample evidence of the accuracy of
the Roman historian. With reference to the admiration of the yellow
colour among the Celts, it is interesting to trace how it intermingles
itself with the vocabulary of the language; thus, a _fine_ day is a
_yellow_ day. The name given to Beltin day, the opening of summer, is,
“la buidhe Beallteine,” _yellow Beltin day_; and anything propitious is
called _yellow_, as, “is buidhe dhuit e,” _it is yellow or propitious
for you_; and a man satisfied after a meal is called “buidheach,”
_yellow or satisfied_.