Heroic Legends Of Ireland Part 3

"It shall never be thy part to be the first to divide it," said a great fair-haired warrior of the men of Ulster.

"Who then is this?" said Ket.

"'Tis Eogan, son of Durthacht,"[1] said they all; "Eogan, the lord of Fernmay."

"I have seen him upon an earlier day," said Ket.

"Where hast thou seen me?" said Eogan.

"It was before thine own house," said Ket. "As I was driving away thy cattle, a cry of war was raised in the lands about me; and thou didst come out at that cry. Thou didst hurl thy spear against me, and it was fixed in my shield; but I hurled the same spear back against thee, and it tore out one of thy two eyes. All the men of Ireland can see that thou art one-eyed; here is the man that struck thine other eye out of thy head," and he also sat down.

"Make ye ready again for the strife for renown, O ye men of Ulster!" cried Ket. "Thou hast not yet gained the right to divide the Boar," said Munremur, Gerrcind's son.

"Is that Munremur?" cried Ket; "I have but one short word for thee, O Munremur! Not yet hath the third day pa.s.sed since I smote the heads off three warriors who came from your lands, and the midmost of the three was the head of thy firstborn son!" and Munremur also sat down.

"Come to the strife for renown!" cried Ket.

"That strife will I give to thee," said Mend the son of Salcholcam (the Sword-heeled).

"Who is this?" asked Ket.

"'Tis Mend," said all who were there.

"Hey there!" cried Ket. "The son of the man with the nickname comes to measure his renown with mine! Why, Mend, it was by me that the nickname of thy father came; 'twas I who cut the heel from him with [1. p.r.o.nounced Yeogan, son of Doorha.]

my sword so that he hopped away from me upon one leg! How shall the son of that one-legged man measure his renown with mine?" and he also sat down.

"Come to the strife for renown!" cried Ket.

"That warfare shalt thou have from me!" said an Ulster warrior, tall, grey, and more terrible than the rest.

"Who is this?" asked Ket.

"'Tis Celtchar, the son of Uitechar," cried all.

"Pause thou a little, Celtchar," said Ket, "unless it be in thy mind to crush me in an instant. Once did I come to thy dwelling, O Celtchar, a cry was raised about me, and all men hurried up at that cry, and thou also camest beside them. It was in a ravine that the combat between us was held; thou didst hurl thy spear against me, and against thee I also hurled my spear; and my spear pierced thee through the leg and through the groin, so that from that hour thou hast been diseased, nor hath son or daughter been born to thee. How canst thou strive in renown with me?" and he also sat down.

"Come to the strife for renown!" cried Ket.

"That strife shalt thou have," said Cuscrid the Stammerer, of Macha, king Conor's son.

"Who is this?" said Ket. "'Tis Cuscrid," said all; "he hath a form which is as the form of a king."

"Nor hath he aught to thank thee for," said the youth.

"Good!" said Ket. "It was against me that thou didst come on the day when thou didst first make trial of thy weapons, my lad: 'twas in the borderland that we met. And there thou didst leave the third part of thy folk behind thee, and thou didst fly with a spear-thrust through thy throat so that thou canst speak no word plainly, for the spear cut in sunder the sinews of thy neck; and from that hour thou hast been called Cuscrid the Stammerer." And in this fashion did Ket put to shame all the warriors of the province of Ulster.

But as he was exulting near to the Boar, with his knife in his hand, all saw Conall, the Victorious enter the palace; and Conall sprang into the midst of the house, and the men of Ulster hailed him with a shout; and Conor himself took his helmet from his head, and swung it on high to greet him.

"'Tis well that I wait for the portion that befalls me!" said Conall. Who is he who is the divider of the Boar for ye?"

"That office must be given to the man who stands there," said Conor, "even to Ket, the son of Mata."

"Is this true, O Ket?" said Conall. "Art thou the man to allot this Boar?" And then sang Ket: Conall, all hail!

Hard stony spleen Wild glowing flame!

Ice-glitter keen!

Blood in thy breast Rageth and boils; Oft didst thou wrest Victory's spoils: Thou scarred son of Finuchoem,[1] thou truly canst claim To stand rival to me, and to match me in fame!

And Conall replied to him: Hail to thee, Ket!

Well are we met!

Heart icy-cold, Home for the bold!

Ender of grief!

Car-riding chief!

Sea's stormy wave!

Bull, fair and brave!

Ket! first of the children of Matach!

The proof shall be found when to combat we dart, The proof shall be found when from combat we part; He shall tell of that battle who guardeth the stirks, He shall tell of that battle at handcraft who works; And the heroes shall stride to the wild lion-fight, For by men shall fall men in this palace to-night: Welcome, Ket![2]

[1. p.r.o.nounced Finn-hoom.

2. The short lines of this rhetoric have the metre of the original Irish.]

"Rise thou, and depart from this Boar," said Conall.

"What claim wilt thou bring why I should do this?" said Ket.

"'Tis true indeed," said Conall, "thou art contending in renown with me. I will give thee one claim only, O Ket! I swear by the oath of my tribe that since the day that I first received a spear into my hand I have seldom slept without the head of a slain man of Connaught as my pillow; and I have not let pa.s.s a day or a night in which a man of Connaught hath not fallen by my hand."

"'Tis true indeed," said Ket, "thou art a better warrior than I. Were but Anluan here, he could battle with thee in another fashion; shame upon us that he is not in this house!"

"Aye, but Anluan is here! "cried Conall, and therewith he plucked Anluan's head from his belt. And he threw the head towards Ket, so that it smote him upon the chest, and a gulp of the blood was dashed over his lips. And Ket came away from the Boar, and Conall placed himself beside it.

"Now let men come to contend for renown with me!" cried Conall. But among the men of Connaught there was none who would challenge him, and they raised a wall of shields, like a great vat around him, for in that house was evil wrangling, and men in their malice would make cowardly casts at him. And Conall turned to divide the Boar, and he took the end of the tail in his mouth. And although the tail was so great that it was a full load for nine men, yet he sucked it all into his mouth so that nothing of it was left; and of this hath been said: Strong hands on a cart thrust him forward; His great tail, though for nine men a load, Was devoured by the brave Conall Cernach, As the joints he so gaily bestowed.

Now to the men of Connaught Conall gave nothing except the two fore-legs of the Boar, and this share seemed to be but small to the men of Connaught, and thereon they sprang up, and the men of Ulster also sprang up, and they rushed at each other. They buffeted each other so that the heap of bodies inside the house rose as high as the side-walls of it; and streams of blood flowed under the doors.

The hosts brake out through the doors into the outer court, and great was the din that uprose; the blood upon the floor of the house might have driven a mill, so mightily did each man strike out at his fellow. And at that time Fergus plucked up by the roots a great oak-tree that stood in the outer court in the midst of it; and they all burst out of the court, and the battle went on outside.

Then came out Mac Datho, leading the hound by a leash in his hand, that he might let him loose between the two armies, to see to which side the sense of the hound would turn. And the hound joined himself with the men of Ulster, and he rushed on the defeated Connaughtmen, for these were in flight, And it is told that in the plain of Ailbe, the hound seized hold of the poles of the chariot in which Ailill and Maev rode: and there Fer-loga, charioteer to Ailill and Maev, fell upon him, so that he cast his body to one side, and his head was left upon the poles of the chariot. And they say that it is for that reason that the plain of Ailbe is so named, for from the hound Ailbe the name hath come.

The rout went on northwards, over Ballaghmoon, past Rurin Hill, over the Midbine Ford near to Mullaghmast, over Drum Criach Ridge which is opposite to what is Kildare to-day, over Rath Ingan which is in the forest of Gabla, then by Mac Lugna's Ford over the ridge of the two plains till they came to the Bridge of Carpre that is over the Boyne. And at the ford which is known as the Ford of the Hound's Head, which standeth in the west of Meath, the hound's head fell from the chariot.

And, as they went over the heather of Meath, Ferloga the charioteer of Ailill fell into the heather, and he sprang behind Conor who followed after them in his chariot, and he seized Conor by the head.

"I claim a boon from thee if I give thee thy life, O Conor!" said he.

"I choose freely to grant that boon," said Conor.

"'Tis no great matter," said Ferloga. "Take me with thee to Emain Macha, and at each ninth hour let the widows and the growing maidens of Ulster serenade me[1] with the song: 'Ferloga is my darling.'"

And the women were forced to do it; for they dared not to deny him, fearing the wrath of Conor; and at the end of a year Ferloga crossed by [1. Literally, "sing me a cepoc," or a choral song.]

Athlone into Connaught, and he took with him two of Conor's horses bridled with golden reins.

And concerning all this hath it been sung: Hear truth, ye lads of Connaught; No lies your griefs shall fill, A youth the Boar divided; The share you had was ill.

Of men thrice fifty fifties Would win the Ailbe Hound; In pride of war they struggled, Small cause for strife they found.

Yet there came conquering Conor, And Ailill's hosts, and Ket; No law Cuchulain granted, And brooding Bodb[1] was met.

Dark Durthacht's son, great Eogan, Shall find that journey hard; From east came Congal Aidni, And Fiaman,[2] sailor bard; Three sons of Nera, famous For countless warlike fields; Three lofty sons of Usnach, With hard-set cruel shields.

From high Conalad Croghan Wise Senlaech[3] drave his car; And Dubhtach[4] came from Emain, His fame is known afar; And Illan came, whom glorious For many a field they hail: Loch Sail's grim chief, Munremur; Berb Baither, smooth of tale; [1. p.r.o.nounced Bobe, with sound of 'robe.'

2. p.r.o.nounced Feeman.

3. p.r.o.nounced Senlay, with the light final ch.

4. p.r.o.nounced Doov-ta.]

And Celtchar, lord in Ulster; And Conall's valour wild; And Marcan came; and Lugaid Of three great hounds the child.

Fergus, awaiting the glorious hound, Spreadeth a cloak o'er his mighty shield, Shaketh an oak he hath plucked from ground, Red was the woe the red cloak concealed.

Yonder stood Cethern,[1] of Finntan son, Holding them back; till six hours had flown Connaughtmen's slaughter his hand hath done, Pa.s.s of the ford he hath held alone.

Armies with Feidlim[2] the war sustain, Laegaire the Triumpher rides on east, Aed, son of Morna, ye hear complain, Little his thought is to mourn that beast.

High are the n.o.bles, their deeds show might, Housefellows fair, and yet hard in fight; Champions of strength upon clans bring doom, Great are the captives, and vast the tomb.

[1. p.r.o.nounced Kay-hern.

2 p.r.o.nounced Fay-lim.]

THE SICK-BED OF CUCHULAIN.

INTRODUCTION.THE romance called the "Sick-bed of Cuchulain," the latter part of which is also known as the "Jealousy of Emer," is preserved in two ma.n.u.scripts, one of which is the eleventh-century Leabhar na h-Uidhri, the other a fifteenth century ma.n.u.script in the Trinity College Library. These two ma.n.u.scripts give substantially the same account, and are obviously taken from the same source, but the later of the two is not a copy of the older ma.n.u.script, and sometimes preserves a better reading.

The eleventh-century ma.n.u.script definitely gives a yet older book, the Yellow Book of Slane, now lost, as its authority, and this may be the ultimate authority for the tale as we have it. But, although there is only one original version of the text, it is quite plain from internal evidence that the compiler of the Yellow Book of Slane, or of an earlier book, had two quite different forms of the story to draw from, and combined them in the version that we have. The first, which may be called the "Antiquarian" form, relates the cause of Cuchulain's illness, tells in detail of the journey of his servant Laeg to Fairyland, in order to test the truth of a message sent to Cuchulain that he can be healed by fairy help, and then breaks off. In both the Leabhar na h-Uidhri and in the fifteenth-century ma.n.u.script, follows a long pa.s.sage which has absolutely nothing to do with the story, consisting of an account how Lugaid Red-Stripes was elected to be king over Ireland, and of the Bull Feast at which the coming of Lugaid is prophesied. Both ma.n.u.scripts then give the counsel given by Cuchulain to Lugaid on his election (this pa.s.sage being the only justification for the insertion, as Cuchulain is supposed to be on his sick-bed when the exhortation is given); and both then continue the story in a quite different form, which may be called the "Literary" form. The cause of the sickness is not given in the Literary form, which commences with the rousing of Cuchulain from his sick-bed, this rousing being due to different agency from that related in the Antiquarian form, for in the latter Cuchulain is roused by a son of the fairy king, in the former b his wife Emer. The journey of Laeg to Fairyland is then told in the literary form with different detail to that given in the Antiquarian one, and the full conclusion is then supplied in this form alone; so that we have, although in the same ma.n.u.script version, two quite distinct forms of the original legend, the first defective at the end of the story, the other at its beginning.

Not only are the incidents of the two forms of the story different in many respects, but the styles are so absolutely different that it would seem impossible to attribute them to the same author. The first is a mere compilation by an antiquarian; it is difficult to imagine that it was ever recited in a royal court, although the author may have had access to a better version than his own. He inserts pa.s.sages which do not develop the interest of the story; hints at incidents (the temporary absence of Fergus and Conall) which are not developed or alluded to afterwards, and is a notable early example of the way in which Irish literature can be spoiled by combining several different independent stories into one. There is only one gem, strictly so called, and that not of a high order; the only poetic touches occur in the rhetoric, and, although in this there is a weird supernatural flavour, that may have marked the original used by the compiler of this form ' the human interest seems to be exceptionally weak.

The second or Literary form is as different from the other as it is possible for two compositions on the same theme to be. The first few words strike the human note in Cuchulain's message to his wife: "Tell her that it goeth better with me from hour to hour;" the poems are many, long, and of high quality; the rhetoric shows a strophic correspondence; the Greek principle of letting the messenger tell the story instead of relating the facts, in a narrative of events (the method followed in the Antiquarian version) is made full use of; the modest account given by Cuchulain of his own deeds contrasts well with the prose account of the same deeds; and the final relation of the voluntary action of the fairy lady who gives up her lover to her rival, and her motives, is a piece of literary work centuries in advance of any other literature of modern Europe.

Some modern accounts of this romance have combined the two forms, and have omitted the irrelevant incidents in the Antiquarian version; there are literary advantages in this course, for the disconnected character of the Antiquarian opening, which must stand first, as it alone gives the beginning of the story, affords little indication of the high quality of the better work of the Literary form that follows; but, in order to heighten the contrast, the two forms are given just as they occur in the ma.n.u.scripts, the only omissions being the account of the election of Lugaid, and the exhortation of Cuchulain to the new king.

Thurneysen, in his Sagen aus dem Alten Irland, places the second description of Fairyland by Laeg with the Antiquarian form, and this may be justified not only by the allusion to Ethne, who does not appear elsewhere in the Literary form, but from the fact that there is a touch of rough humour in this poem, which appears in the Antiquarian form, but not elsewhere in the Literary one, where the ma.n.u.scripts place this poem. But on the other hand the poetry of this second description, and its vividness, come much closer to the Literary form, and it has been left in the place that the ma.n.u.script gives to it.

The whole has been translated direct from the Irish in Irische Texte, vol. i., with occasional reference to the facsimile of the Leabhar na h-Uidhri; the words marked as doubtful by Windisch in his glossary, which are rather numerous, being indicated by marks of interrogation in the notes, and, where Windisch goes not indicate a probable meaning, a special note is made on the word, unless it has been given in dictionaries subsequent to that of Windisch. Thurneysen's translation has sometimes been made use of, when there is no other guide; but he omits some pa.s.sages, and Windisch has been followed in the rendering given in his glossary in cases where there would seem to be a difference, as Thurneysen often translates freely.

THE SICK-BED OF CUCHULAIN.

TRANSCRIBED FROM THE LOST YELLOW BOOK OF SLANE.

By Maelmuiri mac Ceileachair into the Leabhar na h-Uidhri in the Eleventh Century EVERY year the men of Ulster were accustomed to hold festival together; and the time when they held it was for three days before Samhain, the Summer-End, and for three days after that day, and upon Samhain itself. And the time that is spoken of is that when the men of Ulster were in the Plain of Murthemne, and there they used to keep that festival every year; nor was there an thing in the world that they would do at that time except sports, and marketings, and splendours, and pomps, and feasting and eating; and it is from that custom of theirs that the Festival of the Samhain has descended, that is now held throughout the whole of Ireland.

Now once upon a time the men of Ulster held festival upon the Murthemne Plain, and the reason that this festival was held was that every man of them should then give account of the combats he had made and of his valour every Summer-End. It was their custom to hold that festival in order to give account of these combats, and the manner in which they gave that account was this: Each man used to cut off the tip of the tongue of a foe whom he had killed, and he bore it with him in a pouch. Moreover, in order to make more great the numbers of their contests, some used to bring with them the tips of the tongues of beasts, and each man publicly declared the fights he had fought, one man of them after the other. And they did this also--they laid their swords over their thighs when they declared the strifes, and their own swords used to turn against them when the strife that they declared was false; nor was this to be wondered at, for at that time it was customary for demon beings to scream from the weapons of men, so that for this cause their weapons might be the more able to guard them.

To that festival then came all the men of Ulster except two alone, and these two were Fergus the son of Rg, and Conall the Victorious. "Let the festival be held!" cried the men of Ulster. "Nay," said Cuchulain, "it shall not be held until Conall and Fergus come," and this he said because Fergus was the foster-father of Cuchulain, and Conall was his comrade. Then said Sencha: "Let us for the present engage in games of chess; and let the Druids sing, and let the jugglers play their feats;" and it was done as he had said.

Now while they were thus employed a flock of birds came down and hovered over the lake; never was seen in Ireland more beautiful birds than these. And a longing that these birds should be given to them seized upon the women who were there; and each of them began to boast of the prowess of her husband at bird-catching. "How I wish," said Ethne Aitencaithrech, Conor's wife, "that I could have two of those birds, one of them upon each of my two shoulders." "It is what we all long for," said the women; and "If any should have this boon, I should be the first one to have it," said Ethne Inguba, the wife of Cuchulain.

"What are we to do now?" said the women. "'Tis easy to answer you," said Leborcham, the daughter of Oa and Adarc; "I will go now with a message from you, and will seek for Cuchulain." She then went to Cuchulain, and "The women of Ulster would be well pleased," she said, "if yonder birds were given to them by thy hand." And Cuchulain made for his sword to unsheathe it against her: "Cannot the la.s.ses of Ulster find any other but us," he said, "to give them their bird-hunt to-day?" "'Tis not seemly for thee to rage thus against them," said Leborcham, "for it is on thy account that the women of Ulster have a.s.sumed one of their three blemishes, even the blemish of blindness." For there were three blemishes that the women of Ulster a.s.sumed, that of crookedness of gait, and that of a stammering in their speech, and that of blindness. Each of the women who loved Conall the Victorious had a.s.sumed a crookedness of gait; each woman who loved Cuscraid Mend, the Stammerer of Macha, Conor's son, stammered in her speech; each woman in like manner who loved Cuchulain had a.s.sumed a blindness of her eyes, in order to resemble Cuchulain; for he, when his mind was angry within him, was accustomed to draw in the one of his eyes so far that a crane could not reach it in his head, and would thrust out the other so that it was great as a cauldron in which a calf is cooked.

"Yoke for us the chariot, O Laeg!" said Cuchulain. And Laeg yoked the chariot at that, and Cuchulain went into the chariot, and he cast his sword at the birds with a cast like the cast of a boomerang, so that they with their claws and wings flapped against the water. And they seized upon all the birds, and they gave them and distributed them among the women; nor was there any one of the women, except Ethne alone, who had not a pair of those birds. Then Cuchulain returned to his wife; and "Thou art enraged," said he to her. "I am in no way enraged," answered Ethne, "for I deem it as being by me that the distribution was made. And thou hast done what was fitting," she said, "for there is not one of these woman but loves thee; none in whom thou hast no share; but for myself none hath any share in me except thou alone." "Be not angry," said Cuchulain, "if in the future any birds come to the Plain of Murthemne or to the Boyne, the two birds that are the most beautiful among those that come shall be thine."

A little while after this they saw two birds flying over the lake, linked together by a chain of red gold. They sang a gentle song, and a sleep fell upon all the men who were there; and Cuchulain rose up to pursue the birds. "If thou wilt hearken to me," said Laeg, and so also said Ethne, "thou shalt not go against them; behind those birds is some especial power. Other birds may be taken by thee at some future day." "Is it possible that such claim as this should be made upon me?" said Cuchulain. "Place a stone in my sling, O Laeg!" Laeg thereon took a stone, and he placed it in the sling, and Cuchulain launched the stone at the birds, but the cast missed. "Alas!" said he. He took another stone, and he launched this also at the birds, but the stone flew past them. "Wretched that I am," he cried, "since the very first day that I a.s.sumed arms, I have never missed a cast until this day!" And he cast his spear at them, and the spear went through the shield of the wing of one of the birds, and the birds flew away, and went beneath the lake.

After this Cuchulain departed, and he rested his back against a stone pillar, and his soul was angry within him, and a sleep fell upon him. Then saw he two women come to him; the one of them had a green mantle upon her, and upon the other was a purple mantle folded in five folds. And the woman in the green mantle approached him, and she laughed a laugh at him, and she gave him a stroke with a horsewhip. And then the other approached him, and she also laughed at him, and she struck him in the like manner; and for a long time were they thus, each of them in turn coming to him and striking him until he was all but dead; and then they departed from him.

Now the men of Ulster perceived the state in which Cuchulain was in; and they cried out that he should be awakened; but "Nay," said Fergus, "ye shall not move him, for he seeth a vision;" and a little after that Cuchulain came from his sleep. "What hath happened to thee?" said the men of Ulster; but he had no power to bid greeting to them. "Let me be carried," he said, "to the sick-bed that is in Tete Brecc; neither to Dun Imrith, nor yet to Dun Delga." "Wilt thou not be carried to Dun Delga to seek for Emer?" said Laeg. "Nay," said he, "my word is for Tete Brecc;" and thereon they bore him from that place, and he was in Tete Brecc until the end of one year, and during all that time he had speech with no one.

Now upon a certain day before the next Summer-End, at the end of a year, when the men of Ulster were in the house where Cuchulain was, Fergus being at the side-wall, and Conall Cernach at his head, and Lugaid Red-Stripes at his pillow, and Ethne Inguba at his feet; when they were there in this manner, a man came to them, and he seated himself near the entrance of the chamber in which Cuchulain lay. "What hath brought thee here?" said Conall the Victorious. "No hard question to answer," said the man. "If the man who lies yonder were in health, he would be a good protection to all of Ulster; in the weakness and the sickness in which he now is, so much the more great is the protection that they have from him. I have no fear of any of you," he said, "for it is to give to this man a greeting that I come." "Welcome to thee, then, and fear nothing," said the men of Ulster; and the man rose to his feet, and he sang them these staves: Ah! Cuchulain, who art under sickness still, Not long thou its cure shouldst need; Soon would Aed Abra's daughters, to heal thine ill, To thee, at thy bidding, speed.

Liban, she at swift Labra's right hand who sits, Stood up on Cruach's[1] Plain, and cried: "'Tis the wish of Fand's heart, she the tale permits, To sleep at Cuchulain's side.

[1. p.r.o.nounced something like Croogh.]

"'If Cuchulain would come to me,' Fand thus told, 'How goodly that day would shine!

Then on high would our silver be heaped, and gold, Our revellers pour the wine.

"'And if now in my land, as my friend, had been Cuchulain, of Sualtam[1] son, The things that in visions he late hath seen In peace would he safe have won.

"'In the Plains of Murthemne, to south that spread, Shall Liban my word fulfil: She shall seek him on Samhain, he naught need dread, By her shall be cured his ill.'"

"Who art thou, then, thyself?" said the men of Ulster. I am Angus, the son of Aed Abra," he answered; and the man then left them, nor did any of them know whence it was he had come, nor whither he went.