Part 5

"Arise, O Eve, cheerfully, and begin a 'cross-vigil';[72] send thou from thee, O Wife, to God's right hand my pure soul to holy heaven.

"The soul that God created in me, it is He who recalled it in its uncleanliness; let it go to him perfectly to His dwelling with the accompanying of angel-hosts.

"O Wife, I am not bold, in truth, concerning the actions of my good King; the wrath that He showed (pure His sway), was an act of affection and mercy."

(Eve kneels and prays to God. A heavenly messenger is sent to her, to tell her that the soul of Adam is parted from the body, and that it is safe in the charge of the hosts of the archangel Michael.)

[Sidenote: l. 2105]

Then Eve went quickly towards Adam; until she found Adam (great the love)-- no longer inhaling breath.

When she heard not the voice of Adam speaking to her with fair beauty, her senses out of measure overpowered her, with long lamentations, with lasting sorrow.

(_The heavenly messenger speaks_)

"O Eve, lift up thine eyes, and suffer us to instruct thee; set thy keen pure glance upwards clearly to the heavenly ones.

"O Woman, raise thy pure face, to behold the soul of Adam, as it is uplifted brightly between hosts of archangels."

On that Eve turned to behold the soul of Adam, and she saw the beautiful peaceful soul of Adam in the company of Michael.

While Eve was thus recognising the soul of Adam, she beheld coming towards it along the ways hosts of angels chorus-singing.

Eve beheld a Seraph moving nobly in front of the host on three golden wings; fair was the beloved thing[73] which he bore.

Then Eve beheld three white shining birds (which) across the sky from holy heaven had arrived (?) in their lustre.

While she was watching the birds, Eve herself without great trouble, as with a flash of the full sun, she became unable to look at them.

Up unto cloudy heaven was heard the choir of the holy angels around Michael; they spread their pleasant ranks then circling about the altar of Adam.

The angels sustained a fitting harmony round about the altar; before all the host they burned a herb which is called "ornamentum."

The strong smoke[74] spread directly through the air; the doors of the firmament opened without any force (?)[75]

God came in holiness from heaven to the service of Adam's soul; the Soverain King over every sphere sat down on His royal throne.

There went before the pure King a noble angel of the angels; he sounded melodiously a clear, shrill note, its beautiful report was heard throughout the seven heavens.[76]

Towards the sound of the trumpet, purely splendid, went the host of the nine holy grades; truly strong were their clear numbers, before the royal throne of the Creator!

(The hosts unite in praising the Lord for His mercy to Adam)

[Sidenote: l. 2177]

Then the King of Wisdom[77] sent from Him quickly a Seraph across the slopes of the great mass of the hosts with wings of red gold.

Until they took the soul of Adam without pain, so that it was bathed in the unpassable (?) river of the ever-living host[78] "indatinum ciriasu."

So that he brought with him Adam's pure, clear soul thus out of the stream, then he placed himself as at the first before the presence of the Creator.

Then the King laid His hand, without any consuming (?) upon the soul of Adam. He commended it to Michael, fair is the tale!

"Be thou not harsh, O Michael, towards its great bliss, place thou the soul of Adam here in Paradise.

"Bear the bright pure soul of splendid Adam with his accompanying bands, place it ... in the third kingly division of Paradise."

"'In the third heaven,' said God, 'which is called Ficconicia; let it be there without sign of pain till the time of the Resurrection.'"

All the grades in every sphere both of angels and archangels, sweet was their pure chorus praising the Creator;

For the remission to the soul of Adam from its sins, from its vices; that it should be brought again to Paradise.

Let the oil of mercy and the herb "ornamentum" be bestowed about the body of Adam to cleanse it from its vileness.

Around the body of Adam let three wholesome linen cloths, of special honour, be arranged; and let it be buried exactly at the side of Abel's sepulchre.

The body of our fore-father Adam, according to writings of manifold genius, from afar, under the heavy, sorrowful bonds of death, was buried in Hebron.

It was there under a strong, firm tower[79] till the coming of the wave-strength of the flood, the body of Adam, with honours in its sepulchre, under assemblies of the strong.

The flood of the deluge over every land, many countries did it upturn, it carried his head from Adam and brought it to Jerusalem.

There the head remained before Jerusalem;[80] without grief the cross of Christ afterwards was planted in the flesh[81] of Adam.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: l. 2385]

High King of the Sun, clearly hath it been heard, He it was who created Paradise; He who is better than all kings, royal His form, there is no limit to His existence.

FOOTNOTES:

[70] _i.e._ 930 years; see Gen. v. 3.

[71] _Fogrís_ means "under attack" or "under warmth," "ardour," "heat"; could it mean "under the warmth of the sun," _i.e._ "alive"?

[72] A cross-vigil was a prayer uttered with the arms extended in the form of a cross, or sometimes with the body flat on the ground in the same position; such prayers were common in the ancient Irish Church.

[73] "Pet," or "champion."

[74] Or "incense."

[75] Without guardians or keepers?

[76] See p. 18. God is frequently called the "King of the Seven Heavens," _cf._ p. 120.

[77] Or "King of Victories."

[78] In the _Vision of Adamnan_ the river is of fire. In Dante's _Purgatorio_ (Canto xxxi.) the soul is bathed in the river of Lethe.

[79] _Tromthur_, in l. 906 of the poem, seems to refer to waves.

[80] Lit. "before the gate of Jerusalem," but see _Rev. Celt._, vi. p. 104.

[81] _i.e._ in his skull; this is a curious tradition.

ANCIENT PAGAN POEMS

"One day the young poet Nede fared forth till he stood on the margin of the sea, for the poets believed the brink of water to be the place of poetic revelation. He heard a sound in the wave, even a chant of wailing and sadness, and he marvelled thereat.

"So the youth cast a spell upon the wave, that it might reveal to him the cause of its moaning."--_Book of Leinster_, 186a.

THE SOURCE OF POETIC INSPIRATION

_A Colloquy between the Old Poet and the Young Poet. Time: The beginning of the Christian era._

The old poet spake to the young poet:--

"Who is this sage around whom is wrapped the robe of splendour? and whence comes he?"

The young poet answered:

"I spring from the heel of a wise man, From the meeting-place of wisdom I come forth; From the place where goodness dwells serene. From the red sunrise of the dawn I come, Where grow the nine hazels of poetic art. From the wide circuits of splendour Out of which, according to their judgment, truth is weighed. There is a land where righteousness is instilled, And where falsehood wanes into twilight. There is a land of varied colours[82] Where poems are bathed anew. And thou, O well-spring of Knowledge, whence comest thou?"

"Well can the answer be given: I move along the columns of age, Along the streams of inspiration, Along the elf-mound of Nechtan's wife, Along the forearm of the wife of Nuada,[83] Along the fair land of knowledge The bright country of the sun; Along the hidden land which by day the moon inhabits; Along the first beginnings of life. I demand of thee, O wise youth, what it is that lies before thee?"

"That I can answer thee. I travel towards the plain of age, Through the mountain-heights of youth. I go forward to the hunting-grounds of old age, Into the sunny dwelling of a king (death?), Into the abode of the tomb; Between burial and judgment, Between battles and their horrors Among Tethra's mighty men.[84] And thou, O master of Wisdom, what lies before thee?"

"I pass into the lofty heights of honour, Into the community of knowledge, Into the fair country inhabited of noble sages, Into the haven of prosperities, Into the assembly of the king's son. Into contempt of upstarts, Into the slopes of death where great honour lies. O Son of Instructions, whose son art thou?"

"I am the son of Poetry, Poetry son of investigation, Investigation son of meditation, Meditation son of lore, Lore son of research, Research son of enquiry, Enquiry son of wide knowledge, Knowledge son of good sense, Good sense son of understanding, Understanding son of wisdom, Wisdom son of the three gods of Poetry. O Fount of Wisdom, of whom art thou the son?"

"I am the son of the man who has lived, but has never been born; Of him who was buried in the womb of his own mother;[85] Of him who was baptized after his death.[86] He of all living, was first betrothed to death, His is the first name uttered by the living, His the name lamented by all the dead: Adam, the High One, is his name."[87]

FOOTNOTES:

[82] The colours denote the qualities of the inhabitants.

[83] Two poetic names for the River Boyne; Nuada was the deified ancestor of the Kings of Leinster. In the Boyne dwelt the "salmon of knowledge," which the poet must consume, and at its source grew the hazels of poetic inspiration. Its tumuli were believed to be the haunts of gods or fairies.

[84] Tethra was god of the assemblies of the dead.

[85] Explained in the gloss to mean "the Earth."

[86] _i.e._ "in the Passion of Christ."

[87] The above translation is founded on Dr. Whitley Stokes edition of the Colloquy (see note, p. 349).

AMORGEN'S SONG

Amorgen _sang_:

I am the wind on the sea (for depth); I am a wave of the deep (for weight); I am the sound of the sea (for horror); I am a stag of seven points (? for strength); I am a hawk on a cliff (for deftness); I am a tear of the sun (for clearness); I am the fairest of herbs; I am a boar for valour; I am a salmon in a pool (_i.e._ the pools of knowledge); I am a lake on a plain (for extent); I am a hill of Poetry (and knowledge); I am a battle-waging spear with trophies (for spoiling or hewing); I am a god, who fashions smoke from magic fire for a head (to slay therewith); (Who, but I, will make clear every question?) Who, but myself, knows the assemblies of the stone-house[88] on the mountain of Slieve Mis? Who (but the Poet) knows in what place the sun goes down?

Who seven times sought the fairy-mounds without fear? Who declares them, the ages of the moon? Who brings his kine from Tethra's house?[89] Who segregated Tethra's kine? (For whom will the fish of the laughing sea be making welcome, but for me?) Who shapeth weapons from hill to hill (wave to wave, letter to letter, point to point)?

Invoke, O people of the waves,[90] invoke the satirist, that he may make an incantation for thee! I, the druid, who set out letters in Ogham; I, who part combatants; I, who approach the fairy-mounds to seek a cunning satirist, that he may compose chants with me. I am the wind on the sea.

FOOTNOTES:

[88] Or dolmen? Professor John MacNeill, on whose readings the above is founded, notes that a dolmen near Slieve Mis in Co. Antrim is called Ticloy (_toigh cloiche_), and in the local Scotch dialect "the stane-hoose."

[89] See note, p. 349.

[90] _i.e._ the fish, here also called "Tethra's kine"; this poem is generally followed by an incantation for good fishing, to which these phrases doubtless refer.

THE SONG OF CHILDBIRTH

O Ness, let all men stand, The hour of thy peril is at hand; Pale daughter of old Eochad Buidhe the mild We rise to greet thy child! Wife of the ruddy palms Let not thy mind be filled with terror's qualms; The head of hosts, the one Whom thousands shall extol, shall be thy son.

In the same timely hour upon this earth He and the King of the World have their birth; Through the long ages' gloom Now and to the day of doom Praises shall echo through the realm of life. Heroes, at sight of him, cease their strife; Hostages they twain shall never be The Christ and he.

On the plain of Inisfáil he shall come forth, On the flagstone of the meadow to the North. Hostages every battle-chief to him will send, Through the great world his glory will extend; The king of grace is he, The Hound of Ulster he; But and if he falls, Darkness and woe descend on Erin's halls.

Conchobhar, son of Ness "ungentle," is his name; Raids and red routs his valour will proclaim. There he will find his death Where the expiring breath Of the suffering God his vengeful sword demands, In the dark hour upon the Holy Lands;[91] Shining his red sword's track, Over the sloping plain of Liam's back.

FOOTNOTES:

[91] King Conchobhar was believed to be born in the same year as Jesus Christ, and to have met his death in endeavouring to avenge the death of Christ.

GREETING TO THE NEW-BORN BABE

Welcome, little stranger, Born in pain and danger, He will be our gracious Lord, Son of gentle Cathva.

Son of gentle Cathva, From the fort of Brug na Brat; Son of valorous Ness the Young, My son, and my grandson.

My son, and my grandson, Of the world the shining One, He of old Rath Line the king, Poet-prince, my offspring.

Poet-prince, my offspring, Overseas thy hosts thou wilt fling; Little songster from the Brug, Little kid, we welcome you.

WHAT IS LOVE?

From the "Wooing of Etain."

A love much-enduring through a year is my love, It is grief close-hidden,[92] It is stretching of strength beyond its bounds, It is (fills?) the four quarters of the world; It is the highest height of heaven; It is breaking of the neck, It is battle with a spectre, It is drowning with water, It is a race against heaven, It is champion-feats beneath the sea, It is wooing the echo; So is my love, and my passion, and my devotion to her to whom I gave them.

FOOTNOTES:

[92] Lit. "beneath the skin."

SUMMONS TO CUCHULAIN

From the "Sickbed of Cuchulain."

Arise, O Champion of Ulster! In joyous health mayest thou awake; Look thou on Macha's King, beloved, Thy heavy slumber likes him not.

Behold his shoulder full of brightness, Behold his horns for battle-array,[93] Behold his chariots sweeping the glens, Behold the movement of his chess-warriors.[94]

Behold his champions in their might, Behold his maiden-troop, tall and gentle, Behold his kings--a storm of war-- Behold his honourable queens.

Look forth! the winter has begun! Note thou each wonder in its turn, Behold, for it avails thee well, Its cold, its length, its want of colour!

This heavy slumber is decay, it is not good; Exhaustion from unequal strife; Repose too lengthened is "a drop when one is filled,"[95] Weakness like this is next to death.[96]

Awake from sleep, the peace which drinkers seek, With mighty ardour throw it off; Many smooth speeches woo thee here, Arise, O Champion of Ulster!

FOOTNOTES:

[93] Or "his drinking-horns filled with ale" according to another reading.

[94] Lit. "chess-Fians."

[95] This seems to be a proverb or saw.

[96] _Tanaisi d'éc_, lit. "second to death." The "tanist" stood next to the chief, and was his successor.

LAEGH'S DESCRIPTION OF FAIRY-LAND

From the "Sickbed of Cuchulain."

I came with joyous sprightly steps, --Wondrous the place, though its fame was known,-- Till I reached the cairn where, 'mid scores of bands, I found Labra of the flowing hair.

I found him seated at the cairn, Ringed round by thousands of weaponed men, Yellow the hair on him, beauteous its hue, A ball of ruddy gold enclosing it.

After a time he recognised me, In the purple, five-folded mantle, He spake to me, "Wilt thou come with me To the house wherein is Failbe Fand?"

Two kings are in the house, Failbe Fand and Labra, Three fifties surround each one of them, That the full sum of the one house.

Fifty beds on the right side, With fifty nobles (?) in them, Fifty beds on the left side, With fifty in them also.

Copper are the borders of the beds, White the pillars overlaid with gold; This the candle in their midst, A lustrous precious stone.

At the door westward In the place where sets the sun, Stand a herd of grey palfreys, dappled their manes, And another herd purple-brown.

There stand at the Eastern door Three ancient trees of purple pure, From them the sweet, everlasting birds Call to the lads of the kingly rath.

At the door of the liss there is a tree, Out of which there sounds sweet harmony, A tree of silver with the shining of the sun upon it, Its lustrous splendour like to gold.

Three twenties of trees are there, Their crests swing together but do not clash, From each of those trees three hundred are fed With fruits many-tasted, that have cast their rind.

There is a well in the noble (?) sídh; There are thrice fifty mantles of various hue, And a clasp of gold, all lustrous, Holds the corner[97] of each coloured cloak.

A vat there is of heady mead Being dispensed to the household; Still it lasts, in unchanged wise, Full to the brim, everlastingly.

There is a maiden in the noble (?) house Surpassing the women of Éire, She steps forward, with yellow hair, Beautiful, many-gifted she.

Her discourse with each in turn Is beauteous, is marvellous, The heart of each one breaks With longing and love for her.

The noble maiden said: "Who is that youth whom we do not know? If thou be he, come hither awhile-- The gillie of the Man from Murthemne."[98]

I went to her slowly, slowly, Fear for my honour seized me, She asked me, "Comes he hither, The famous son of Dechtire?"

(LAEGH _addresses_ CUCHULAIN)

Alas, that he[99] went not long ago, And every person asking it, That he might see, as it is, The mighty house that I have seen.

If all Éire were mine, And the kingdom of Magh Breg of gold, I would give it (no small test) Could I frequent the place where I have been!

FOOTNOTES:

[97] Lit. "ear."

[98] _i.e._ Cuchulain, whose home-lands lay in the Plain of Murthemne, in the district of Co. Louth; Laegh was Cuchulain's charioteer.

[99] _i.e._ Cuchulain himself.

THE LAMENTATION OF FAND WHEN SHE IS ABOUT TO LEAVE CUCHULAIN

From the "Sickbed of Cuchulain."

It is I who must go on this journey, Ou great necessity were best for me; Though another should have an equal fame Happier for me could I remain.

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 Emer, He has broken from me, O noble wife, No less, the thing that my hand cannot reach, I am fated to desire it.

Many men were seeking me Both in shelters and in secret places; My tryst was never made with them, Because I myself was high-minded.

Joyless she who gives love to one Who does not heed her love; It were better for her to be destroyed If she be not loved as she loves.

With fifty women hast thou come hither, Noble Emer, of the yellow locks, To overthrow Fand, it were not well To kill her in her misery.

Three times fifty have I there, --Beautiful, marriageable women,-- Together with me in the fort: They will not abandon me.

MIDER'S CALL TO FAIRY-LAND

From the "Wooing of Etain."

O Befind, wilt thou come with me, To the wondrous land of melody? The crown of their head like the primrose hair, Their bodies below as the colour of snow.

There in that land is no "mine" or "thine," White the teeth there, eyebrows black, Brilliant the eyes--great is the host-- And each cheek the hue of the foxglove.

How heady soever the ale of Inis Fál More intoxicating is the ale of the Great Land; A marvel among lands the land of which I speak, No young man there enters on old age.

Like the purple of the plains each neck, Like the ousel's egg the colour of the eye; Though fair to the sight are the Plains of Fál They are a desert to him who has known the Great Plain.

Warm, sweet streams across the country, Choice of mead and wine, Distinguished beings who know no stain, Conception without sin, without lust.

We behold everyone on every side, And none beholds us; The gloom of Adam's transgression it is Conceals us from their reckoning.

O Woman, if thou come among my strong people, A golden top will crown thy head; Fresh swine-flesh, new milk and ale for drink Thou shalt have with me, O woman fair!

THE SONG OF THE FAIRIES

_When they made the road across the bog of Lamrach for Mider, their King_.

Pile on the soil; thrust on the soil: Red are the oxen around who toil: Heavy the troops that my words obey; Heavy they seem, and yet men are they. Strongly, as piles, are the tree-trunks placed: Red are the wattles above them laced: Tired are your hands, and your glances slant; One woman's winning this toil may grant!

Oxen ye are, but revenge shall see; Men who are white shall your servants be; Rushes from Teffa are cleared away; Grief is the price that the man shall pay: Stones have been cleared from the rough Meath ground; Where shall the gain or the harm be found? Thrust it in hand! Force it in hand! Nobles this night, as an ox-troop, stand; Hard is the task that is asked, and who From the bridging of Lamrach shall gain, or rue?

A. H. LEAHY.

THE GREAT LAMENTATION OF DEIRDRE FOR THE SONS OF USNA

"As to Deirdre, she was a year in the household of Conchobar, after the death of the Sons of Usna. And though it might be a little thing to raise her head or to bring a smile over her lip, never once did she do it through all that space of time.... She took not sufficiency of food or sleep, nor lifted her head from her knee. When people of amusement were sent to her, she would break out into lamentation:--

Splendid in your eyes may be the impetuous champions Who resort to Emain after a foray; More brilliant yet was the return Of Usna's heroes to their home!

Noisi bearing pleasant mead of hazel-nuts; I myself bathed him at the fire; Ardan bore an ox or boar of goodly size, Ainle, a load of faggots on his stately back.

Sweet though the excellent mead be found Drunk by the son of Ness of mighty conflicts; I have shared ere now, from a chase on the borders, Abundant provender more delicious!

When for the cooking-hearth noble Noisi Unbound the faggots on the forest hero-board, More pleasant than honey was each food, Better than all other the spoil brought in by Usna's sons.