Lament for ONeill, Giolla Brighid Mac Con Midhe, Ollamh Cinel Eóghain, 1260 Death of my heart is the head of Brian ! In a strange country under cold clay. O head of Brian of Sliabh Sneachta, Eire after thee is an orphan. To the King of the Saxons eastwards Was carried the head of the King of the Gaeidhil by the Galls. It is not sufficient over the Gaedhil That thou, O head, art triumphed over. It is equal to all the evil the foreigners have done To bring the head of Brian to London. It is a sore consummation of his fate That his head should be in a strangers church. Alas ! that his noble face was removed from Duin, From the place where is the grave of Patrick. It is grievous to us that the King of Caiseal Is not interred near the relics of the Tailginn. In Ard Macha are the internments Of Ulaidh, with their limestone graves, Among (the tombstones of) our Clann-Neill ; Alas ! that his resurrection shall not be there. There is in London, under a white flagstone, A head which the Gaedhil would dearly ransom. All my cattle, although hearest it not, O head ! I would give to ransom thee. He gave twenty horned cows For my poem, it was a goodly purchase, Were the twenty cows with golden horns, My honour was no greater or better. I brought away with me on another day Twenty cows at May-day, Along with much other wealth besides, Not counting gold and raiment. I received a better gift, The blessing of the Chief King of Eire ; The reward for his poem is not trifling, (But) more lasting the fame of his blessing. All have poured from east and west Upon my cattle since the good Brian departed. They and my king have passed away at the same time The noble Brian, from whom I got them. Were we without horse, without cow, For want of cattle we would not repine, And there would not be felt want in my house, If the King of Macha were living. Woe is me, it would seem distressing to Brian To see what indignity offered me ; Injustice to me from east to west would be unlikely If Brian were living. The war of the Gaedhil with the foreigners Was playing for a check with foreign chessmen. The foreign pawns checked our chess king, We cannot now escape defeat. The top of one darn was cut down By a hideous exotic horde of reapers ; Who came against us on Sunday to Duin When the crop was put to ripeness and turning. Till the day at Duin no battle was gained Over the race of Mileadh of Teamhair ; But when it is the destiny of people to pass away, Valour of prowess is of no avail. In its own time we have not seen The deed which would relieve Eire, As valour, it is ascertained, Ought to be exerted on the cessation of prowess. From the number of forts which he plundered and burned ; From the number of great battles which he gained ; Every flank of a fortressed town which he shattered ; By the foreigners of Duin was revenged. The foreigners from London, The hosts from Port Lairge Came in a bright green body thither, In gold and iron armour. Unequal they engaged in the battle, The foreigners and the Gaedhils of Teamhair, Fine linen shirts on the race of Conn, And the foreigners in one mass of iron. The cause of our defeat was our being in guilt In the battle for the possession of Maenmhagh. Ah ! if all were indeed to abstain from the battle. Sunday was no day for fighting. Of what avail is valour of many spears ? By poison a fierce battle is gained, Until ONeill was disabled by poison ; The prowess of the hero was terrible. The cow of a poor man was never brought to his house, The reliquary of a priest he never violated. What curse could have followed him for which the battle was lost ? There is no church against which he sinned. A stede with his ornamental bridle on his head, Would pass throughout Eire, Through Inisfail to Brian of Breagh It would pass without anyone putting a hand to the bridle. A woman would pass to Brian, From Sliabh Callain to Corrsliabh ; The walk among the Gaedhil is frightful to me Since the chief man of Eire has departed. ONeill did not violate a sanctuary ; He did not disobey the church ; The prosperity of Brian was destroyed by poison. To be pious after him is difficult. The heroes of Leth Chuinn in the battle Fell together in defence of Teamhair, As when the prop is withdrawn from a house, Its ridge falls down after it. The fall of the chieftains of the men of Fail Is not to be compared to this one plague. The chieftains of the Gaedhils being mortally wounded, One man would supply their loss. there, upon the heroes of Leth Chuinn, Reproach our reproach is heaped by us, To have allowed the king into battle was not right. Alas the deed that he was not prevented. To leave the King of Oileach among the slain Is a disgrace to the race of Eoghan of white steeds. It was a false guarding in the soldiers of Eamhain To have allowed their lord to break through them. After the bloody battle The Gaedhil cannot move ; The flagstaff of Fail (moves not) west or east Only because Brian liveth not. It was the first battle which Brian fought In which the head chieftain of Orghialla fell ; Until our chief fell at Duin, His footstep was not put back. When Brian of Beann-abhaidh fell In the battle of Duin by the barbarians, For the battles gained by the race of Neill of old We have there fully paid. Our battle at the heavy Craebh-tulcha At Duin was avenged upon us. Eochaidh fell in the eastern conflict, But it did not here go unavenged. The battle of the placid for of Ath Solais We paid for to the foreign tribe ; The defeat at Duin revenged our battle On the smooth plain of Magh-n-athrach. At the battle of Rath-Bhoth, which we gained At the battle of the fair sided Sliabh Toad, The rivers were full of blood On the plain of Maighin in Mumhain. The battle of SLiabh Caein was fought by Nial To defend us against the country of Orghialla. Our battle in the fertile valley of Moin-ghlas Alas ! was revenged eastward at old Duin. We fought a battle at another time At Duin-droma Dairinne. We caused slaughter at Loch Cuain in my memory, But alas ! we have paid for it, Proud men our people, When we fought the battle of Formael ; And of ! high were our spirits When the battle of Caisbhearna was won. Chess of the shinbones of Leinstermen In our workshop was constructed. Smooth chessmen were on the table of our ancestors Of the bare bones of Leinstermen. A tribute of Ath Cliath from the foreign race ; The hosting of the leathern coast obtained ; We got hostages from Caiseal-chuirc ; At the knotty road of Duin it was revenged. Ceallachan, King of Caiseal-chuirc, In fetter was brought to our house. We burned the palace of Cean-coradh, In which were steeds without fetters. Conchobhar, the son of Tadhg, Chief King of Connaught, was a captive at our court. The hostages of the king of the foreigners were in our custody. Alas ! that it was not at home he tarried. The victories,-till the death of Brian of Banba- The preys, death, and defeats, And all the achievements of the foreigners till the slaying of ONeill Were nothing to us but mere reproach. A severance of the heart from the body Is the death of Brian of Loch Laeghaire Not a white wound, but a heart wound to us, Is the loss of the man from Corrsliabh. The beheading blow of the men of Fail Is the death of ONeill of white-glebed Oileach. The death of the tall fair hero, is a manacling of the Gaedhil And a dispersion of the men of Eire. The tomb of the King of Oileach of thick hair O you people who forget its identity, I would point out to you the grave, On the north side of the church. Brian Borumha in the north of the church, Brian ONeill of red-armed Oileach, Farther to the west is the descendant of Con of Cobha And his feet towards Brian Borumha. As Mag Liag ofLuimneach said, To the head of Conaing of the Battle Troops, It grieves me that an enemy has cut it off, The head of ONeill, beloved guest. Thirteen score bright years, And one thousand from the birth of Christ, Until on the dark green sward fell, Brian at bright Duin-da-Leath-Glas. Twenty enduring years have passed, From the battle of Caimerge of red spears, One year, two, and part of a year, To the death of the descendants of Niall Naoighiallach. Bitter to my heart to see the grey Galls, Triumphing over the slaughtered Maghnus, That the head of OCathain, attracting no notice, Should be seen on the bridge of the Duin. A night did Maghnus of Macha remain Between wounded bodies. If Brian had not been in the slaughter, There would be no loss like OCathain. Maghnus himself, Echmacarch too, Muirchertach, Donnachadh, Domhnall, And Niall OCathain, all falling with wounds Alas ! it was not one loss only. A misfortune to our children and our wives, Was the killing of Maghnus OCathain, That scion of Inbhear-abhaigh never neglected, As son or a daughter of Eoghans race. Vain is the joy of this perishable world. Woe to him whom deserves it after Domhnall, Powerful was the voice of OCairre over the rest, Alas that the descendant of Nial Caille should obtain such a reward. Often had I gone on a visit of pleasure, To see Amhlaeibh OGairmleadhaigh Why should I go now to the house tho beside me, Alas ! it is not a house without Amhlaeibh. Conchobhair of Malainn, son of Conn, Women and men lament at Faendruim ODuibhdhirma is a breach in our house, A people without head are his race. With Cian of the fleet hounds disappeared, The nobility and glory of Eire ; Removed from us were wisdom and comeliness, When Cian was hidden in the grave. Want of friends and of wealth, Is MCana to the race of Eoghan ; Donsleibhe MCana the fair skinned, Is a loss to hospitality and valour. Woe to him who wielded the axe or spear, By which fell Cu-Uladh of Emhain Great pity that thou beneath the axe has fallen, Oh Cu-Uladh OhAnluan. There would be no weakness in Leath Chuinn If Mac Lochlainn had not been slain, From this day of the death of generous Brian ; Tis grievous that Diarmid lived not after him. The son of Niall ONeill now Who was in succession to his patrimony A blossom not ripened in to fruit, Was Conchubhair when carried off from us all. The sons of the Kings of Connaught of Carn Meadhbha Deserted not their lord, Until every noble prince was cut down, Of the valiant scions of Cruachan. The son of Tighearnan fell in the east, And the curly haired son of Cormac And OMaelseachlain of all Midhe, Of the fine race of Conn by the foreigners, The comely youth of great Eamhain Macha Fell by them on the day of the violent battle, The great complacent ODubheamhna Good right have his people to mourn him. Alas ! deep grief overspread the country, To anticipate the death of ODubhlin Gofraidh our grief unto the Judgement day, Generous of his banquet was the youth. Seven days wanting of a month, Before the battle Ruadhri was slain, It was a drop before the shower for us to part With the blue eyes of OGairmleadhaigh. ONeill the great and his son (Dear are the oak and the sapling) Oh what a noble pair are they, Domhnaill and Aedh of Oileach. Ardghal of Aileach under sacred mould, In the Diseart of Doire-Chalgaigh, Near the fair miraculous hill Well do we remember OLaithbheartaigh. Brighid the chaste of Cill-dara, My holy virgin, my woman friend, May she encircle my body like a warm girdle, May she come visit me as a guest.
Posted on: Sun, 24 Nov 2013 00:20:34 +0000