Ancient Irish Poetry Part 11

Thy bright point was a crimson point in the battle of Odba of the Foreigners, When thou leftest Aed Finnliath on his back in the battle of Odba of the n.o.ble routs.

Crimson was thy edge, it was seen; at Belach Moon thou wast proved, In the valorous battle of Alvy's Plain throughout which the fighting raged.

Before thee the goodly host broke on a Thursday at Dun Ochtair, When Aed the fierce and brilliant fell upon the hillside above Leafin.

Before thee the host broke on the day when Kelly was slain, Flannagan's son, with numbers of troops, in high lofty great Tara.

Before thee they ebbed southwards in the battle of the Boyne of the rough feats, When Cnogva fell, the lance of valour, at seeing thee, for dread of thee.

Thou wast furious, thou wast not weak, heroic was thy swift force, When Ailill Frosach of Fal[19] fell in the front of the onset.

Thou never hadst a day of defeat with Carroll of the beautiful garths.

He swore no lying oath, he went not against his word.

Thou never hadst a day of sorrow, many a night thou hadst abroad; Thou hadst awaiting thee many a king with many a battle.

O sword of the kings of mighty fires, do not fear to be astray!

Thou shalt find thy man of craft, a lord worthy of thee.

Who shall henceforth possess thee, or to whom wilt thou deal ruin?

From the day that Carroll departed, with whom wilt thou be bedded?

Thou shalt not be neglected until thou come to the house of glorious Naas: Where Finn of the feasts is they will hail thee with 'welcome.'

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 19: A name for Ireland.]

EOCHAID ON THE DEATH OF KING AED MAC DOMNAILL UA NEILL[20]

Aed of Ailech, beloved he was to me, Woe, O G.o.d, that he should have died!

Seven years with Aed of Ath i-- One month with Mael na mBo[21] would be longer!

Seven years I had with the King of Ross, Delightful was my time with the lord of Slemish, Though I were but one month with the king in the south, I know that it would weary me.

Many honours the king gave to me, To pleasure me he brought down stags: A herd of horses he gave to me in my day, The great son of the woman from Magh Ai.

Alas, O Comgall, master of harmonies, That the son of Domnaill should be food for worms!

Alas that his face should be on the ground!

Alas for n.o.ble Ailech without Aed!

From the day that great Aed was slain Few men on earth but are in want: Since _he_ has died that was another Lugh,[22]

It were right to shed tears of blood.

Tara is deprived of her benefactor, A blight is upon his kindred, Torture is put upon the rays of the sun, Glorious Erin is without Aed.

Fair weather s.h.i.+nes not on the mountain-side, Fine-cl.u.s.tering fruit is not enjoyed, The gloom of every night is dark Since earth was put over Aed.

Ye folk of great Armagh, With whom the son of the chief lies on his back, Cause of reproach will come of it That your grave is open before Aed.

In the battle of Craeb Tholcha in the north I left my fair companions behind!

Alas for the fruit of the heavy bloodshed Which severed Eochaid and Aed!

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 20: Who had fallen in the battle of Craeb Tholcha, A.D. 1004.]

[Footnote 21: King of South Leinster.]

[Footnote 22: A famous mythical hero.]

ERARD MAC COISSE ON THE DEATH OF KING MALACHY II.[23]

Alas for thy state, O Dun na Sciath![24]

Alas that thy lord is not alive!

The high-king of Meath of the polished walls, His death has thrown us off our course.

Thou without games, without drinking of ale, Thou s.h.i.+ning abode of the twisted horns!

After Malachy of n.o.ble shape Alas for thy state, O Dun na Sciath!

I upon the green of thy smooth knolls Like Ronan's son after the Fiana, Or like a hind after her fawn, Alas for thy state, O Dun na Sciath!

I got three hundred speckled cups, Three hundred steeds and bridles In this famous fort of n.o.ble shape-- Alas for thy state, O Dun na Sciath!

After Malachy and sweet Brian,[25]

And Murchad[26] that was never weak in hurdled battle, My heart has been left without a leap of vigour, Alas for thy state, O Dun na Sciath!

Ochone! I am the wretched phantom, Small are my wages since the three are gone.

Greater than my own ruin is my cause of lament, Alas for thy state, O Dun na Sciath!

Och! 'tis I that am the body without head, I, Mac Coisse, chief of all poets-- Now that my skill and my vigour are gone, Alas for thy state, O Dun na Sciath!

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 23: King of Ireland. He died in 1022.]

[Footnote 24: The Fort of the s.h.i.+elds, on Lough Ennel, Co. Westmeath.]

[Footnote 25: _i.e._ Brian Boru, who had fallen in 1014 in the battle of Clontarf.]