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C-

o.\

<Bximm JLíbrarp

No. 4.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

■

1 <

GRIMM LIBRARY. He. i.

GEORGIAN FOLK-TALES. Translated by

Marjoby Wardkop.

Cr. Stio, pp. »u + I7S- V- •"■

GRIMM LIBRARY. No. 1.

THE LEGEND OF PERSEUS. By Edwin

SiDNKV Hartlakd, F.S.A.

Vou I. THE SUPERNATURAL BIRTH.

Cr. Ue,tf. xxwv + 128. Ji. 6J. nrl.

GRIMM LIBRARY. /í>. 3.

THE LEGEND OF PERSEUS. By Edwin

SiONKV Hartland, F.S.A.

Vol. II. THE LIFE-TOftEN.

C»-.8w,/i. ÍÍU+44S- laj. 6<t«w.

^K AB rigUi mtrvnt ^^H

rhe Voyage of Bran
Son of Febal

to the Land of the Living

r OLD IRISH SAGA NOW FIRST EDITED, WITH
I TRANSLATION, NOTES, AND GLOSSARY, BY

Kuno Meyer
With an Essay

UPON THE IRISH VISION OF THE HAPPY

OTHERWORLD AND THE CELTIC

DOCTRINE OF REBIRTH: BV

Alfred Nutr

SECTION I.

The Happy Otherworld

London :

Published by David Nutt in the Strand

189s

98 !)58

T. ud A. CciaiTiiLi, PiintBi tm lltr Ua|i

rr r i ■ —

CONTENTS

PAGB

Introduction, vii

Thb Voyage op Bran— Text and Translation, . 2

Notes, 36

Appendix—

i. Compert Mongáin, 42

The Conception of Mongán, 44

ii. Seel asa m-berar co m-bad he Find mac Cumaill

Mongán, etc., 45

A Story from which it is inferred that Mongán was
Find mac Cumaill, and the Cause of the Death of
Fothad Airgdech, 49

iii. Seel Mongáin, 52

A Story of Mongán, 54

iv. Tucait Baile Mongáin, 56

The events that brought about the telling of
*Mongán's Frenzy,' 57

V. Compert Mongáin ocus Sere Duibe-Lacha do Mongán, 58

The Conception of Mongán and Dub-Lacha's Love

for Mongán, 70

»i CONTENTS

Arnxcix— Ctn/iKittd.

TÍ. Tt^tga from tb« Aonal» 84

rii. PissAges (rom IiUche T»te iii. page Si), . 85

Tiii. Puugcs (ram IrUchc Texie Íti. page S7, . , 86

ii. r*ss*)^ dram GiUa Modutu's poem Senehai Btm, 86

I. Pusageifrom MS. LaudfilJ 87

GLOSSAKr, ... 91

Imdsx or Pkksoms. ... ... 97

Index or Places and Tkibes, ...... 98

The IIaitv Otherwoklo im the MYTHico-sOMAmic
LmkATURE OF THE Ikish. The Celtic DocmtHB
OP Rk-birtu. An Eisay to Two Sections. By ALrREU
KuTT. Section L — Chipien i.-xii., ....

(FtrfiM Cnlali. m ff. hoik.)

INTRODUCTION

I The old-Irish tale which is here edited and fully trans-

Itatedi for the first time, has come down to us in seven

luss. of different age and varying value. It is unfortunate

I that the oldest copy (U), that contained on p. i2ta of the

1 Leahhar na hUiihre, a Ms, written about iioo a.d., is a

mere fragment, containing but the very end of the story

from Ul in c/urf/e dia dirnamd (g 63 of my edition) to

the conclusion. The other six mss. all belong to a much

later age, the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries

respectively. Here follow a list and description of these

By R I denote a copy contúned in the well-known
Bodleianvelium quarto, marked RawlinsonB. jia, fo. 1190,
I — I aoi*, Í. For a detailed description of this codex, see
the Rolls edition of the Tripartite Life, voL Í. pp. xiv.-xlv.
As the foUos containing the copy of our text belong to that
portion of the MS. which begins with the £aiU in Sedil
{fo. lom), it is very probable that, like this tale, they were
copied from the lost book of Dubdilethe, bishop of

■ Ad abstract and panicl Ituulalion of the Voyage of Bran was
pita bj Prafesiot Zimmer in ihe ZtUschrififiir detilsekts Allerlhum,
xxxiil. pp. 357-361.

viii THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

Armagh from 1049 to 1064. See Rev. Celt. xi.
The copy was made by a careful and accurate scribe of llu
fifteenth or possibly the fourteenth century. The spellin
is but slightly modernised, the old-Irish forms are well pre-
served, and on the whole it must be said that, of all mss., R
supplies us with the best text. Stitl, it is by no means per-
fect, and is not seldom corrected by uss. of far inferior
value. Thus, in § 4 it has the (a.nMy ctlhror Íoí cetfuoir ;
m § 35 dib for the dissyllabic dlil> ; in § 61, the senselei
«amna instead of nammd. The scribe has also careless
omitted two stanzas (46 and 63).

The us. which coroes next in importance 1 designate E
It is contained on pp. 57-61 of the vellum quarto claf
Bctham 145, belonging to the Royal Irish Academy,
am indebted to Mr. P. M. MacSweeney for a most accura
transcript of this us. When I had an opportunity of com
paring his copy with the original, 1 found hardly any <
crepancies between the two. B was written in the liftccnd
century, I think, by a scribe named Tomae, who, ihou^
he tells us in a marginal note* that he had not for a long
time had any practice in writing, did his task remarkably
wclL He modernises a good deal in spelling, but generally
Icstvcs the old-Irish forms intact. Thus wc owe to him the
preservation of such original forms as the genitives fino ( 1 3),
tialho(&. 13), i'/a/wÍJ. i»), ofí/iííA/ (13), etc

■ ThU note ii found al ihc botlom of p. 57 ktid nini Ibus : M«a
Toraae 7 oi feíiár c* fad o dcocriBluu oenimí namt tin,
Toiaac, and I do aot knuw bow long ago it ii iloM I wrolc • (tnete lii

INTRODUCTION ix

H denotes a copy contained in the British Museum ms.
Harletan s^So, fo. 43a — 44Í. For a description of this
important ms., which was written in the sixteenth century,
t.see Hi^mica Minora (Anecdota Oxoniensia, Medieval and
I Modem series — Part vni.), pp. v and vi, In this copy the
' sptiling and fonns are considerably, but by no means con-
sistently, modernised. In a few cases H has preserved the
original reading as against the corruptions of all or most of
the other mss. Thus it has eetkeoir (4), mmr glan (35},
moilgreiha (8), etc.

E is a copy contained on fo. iiS, 2 — 13(1, a of the British
Museum Ms, Egerton 88, a small vellum folio, written in
the sixteenth century. The text is largely modernised and
swarms with mistakes and corruptions. By sheer good
luck the scribe sometimes leaves the old forms intact, as
when he writes ordi 14, aiig ji, Jldadig 12, mrecht 24.

S is contained in the Stockholm Irish MS., pp. 1-8. I am

indebted to Mr. \Vhitley Stokes for a loan of his transcript

of the whole ms. S is deficient at the end, breaking off

I with the words amha/ bid alalam nobi/A tresna hilcetaib

I bliadan (65). It is of very inferior value, being modernised

i almost throughout in spelling and forms, and full of corrupt

readings, which I have not always thought it worth while to

reproduce in ray footnotes.

L is the copy contained in the well-known MS. belonging

to Trinity College, Dublin, marked H. 1. 16, and commonly

I- called the Yellow Book of Lecan, col. 395-399. This us.

1 dates from the fourteenth century, it is of most unequal

X THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

value. The scnbc, in his endeavour to make the original I
mostly unintelligible to him, yield some sense, constantly'!
alters in the most reckless and arbitrary manner. At other-J
times he puts down whole lines of mere gibberish,
instance of his method is the following rendering of t
34th quatruin :

Is ar muir nglan dochfu innoe
inata Bran bres agnai
is mag mell dimuig a scoth
damsa i carput da rotb.

As in the case of S, I have not thought it necessary to
give all the variants of L, Vet in a few instances even L
has by a mere chance preserved original readings abandoned
by the other scribes, e^, isa fir (6a), ind nathir (45), blídhÍH

The six Mss. here i^iumeraiedi though frequentty varyin]
in details, offer on the whole an identical text, and have
clearly ^mmg from one and the same source. For even
the vagaries of L turn out on closer inspection to be mero
variants of the same original text. Under these circum-
stances it was a comparatively easy task to reconstruct a
critical text. In nearly every case the original reading
preserved by one Ms. or another. Thus almost every form
my edition is supported by MS. authority. In the very ft
cases where I have thought it right to deviate fiom all t1
ues., tbl» has been pointed out in the notes. Still I ani'
Ui from flattering myself that I have succeeded ir

INTRODUCTION xi

tfie text to its original purity. In some cases, fortunately
not many, the readings of all the mss. seemed hopelessly
corrupt. See e^. my remarks on dorearvasat, 48 ; ailt erfind,
; each ági, it; sáibsi ani, 45. In other cases it is
[ doubtful whether I have preferred the right reading. Thus,
I in g 10, I may have been loo rash in adopriiig the reading
I of L, ifw indgás instead of/n' indgds of the rest. Consider-
I ing the tendency of L to alter a less common expression
I into a familiar one, as well as the consensus of all the other
[ MSS,, I would now retain /ri and translate it by 'with.'
' For this use of the preposition, cf. fri imfochid, p. 85, 3.
Again, I cannot claim that the text, as ii now stands, repre-
sents the actual language of any particular period, contain-
i it does middle-Irish forms by the side of old-Irish
ones. Such a mixture of linguistic forms is, however, not
of my own making, but is an inherent peculiarity of most
of our older texts, fully explained by the way in which they
I have been handed down.

But before 1 speak of this, I will try to determine as
nearly as possible the time at which the Voyage of Bran
fas originally written down.

If we had any investigations into the history of the
Irish language besides the excellent history of the
I Deponent lately published by Professor Strachan, it would
I probably be possible to determine with accuracy the time
in which a particular lexl was composed. At present we
must be content with much less certain and definite state-
ments, often leaving a margin of a century on either side.

MÍ THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

In the case of old-Irish, it is mainly by comparing I
language of a given text with that of the continental glosa
that we afiive at anything like a trustworthy conclusion, aiidll
this I propose to do in the present case-
There are a large number of forms in the Voyage of Btan
as old as any to be found in the Wiirzburg glosses. The
oldest part of these glosses, Professor Thumeysen, the most
careful and cool-headed of observers, does not hesitate to
ascribe! to ihi; seven tli cenlury.'

1 now subjoin a list of these oldest forms, leaving asiái
anything of a doubtful or unexplained nature.

First, a^ to sounds and liieir representation, the followii^
archaic forms and spellings are noticeable : —

Final e, early broadened to a, at, later a : sube, 8 ; í
amn, lo; m&ramre, 29; labre, 39; iUdae (\alet iHadna),

55. 58-

Final r, early broadened to <ti : adamri, taáii, 1 1 ; hrdi,
14 ; (ridumi, 14 ; also blidin (later bfuidain), 6j ; adig (later
adaig), 14 ; al/u'r, 45, 57 ; i for infected a : Ildadig, 14,

Initial m before r : mrath, 9 ; mreckt, aj, 14 ; mruig, \
aj. »4. 54-

la for later tt : mild, 34, 39 ; tnmeldag, 4 1 .

hifot io: cfu/, 9, tS, etc

a for later it : eríiit, 3 ; tí», 13 ; triithad, 30.

Also, perhaps, i íor/'m grai^id, 13 ; turbitivd, 18 ;
oaiof úa: sloag, 1 7 (R), cloaU, 9, etc.

' ' Die VotUK< iln Wilnbucfci Gtoucn kann uiibcilaikijch in« ■
Jkhrh. dulol wcrdtn.'— RcT. Cell. vl. pL 319.

betv

INTRODUCTION xiii

In the declension, notice the neuter nouns a rigthech, i ;
tiol, 3 ; am-mag, j ; am-muir, la ; muir glan, vritbout
infection later added by analogy with neuter í^«tems,
17, aS, 30 i /rii tbibgtl tennat, 2 ; cusa eluchemag, 20 ; isa
Hr, 61, etc. The following genitives sing, of /-stems occur :
\iano, 3, 12 ; mora, 37 ; of u-stems : betho, 17 ; fedo, 42 ;
datka, 8, 13 ; the datives sing, of tvstems : láur, i ;
fmufl, j; the accusatives plural: rúna, 52; nime, 28;
48 ; itdman, 21 ; the genitive plural : dúU, 44.
In the article the full form inna is of constant occurrence.
In the poetry it is twice shortened to 'na in the gen. p!ur.
"i'6, 30).

Among prepositions, notice such a fonn as dim, 29, 32,
51; the use of iar with the dative, 26, 32; the careful
distinction between ^1 and da.

But it is in the verbal system that the arcl\aic character
of the language appears to greatest advantage. The
distinction between conjunct and absolute as well as
betvi-een dependent and independent forms is preserved
^throughout.

Present indicative, Sg. 1 ; atchiu, 35 — sg. a : Ímmerái, 37 ;
Hhauei, 38 ; »ad ai'eei, 39 ; nofelhi, 49 — sg. 3 : mescid, 16 ;
^tanid, 18; grailinid, i%\ formig, 6, 12; dosntg, la, aa ;
coming, 1 7 ; tormaig, 1 8 ; foa/eid, 2 2 ; immariid, 33 ; fris-
M", \b ; frisseill, 59 ■,forosna, 16 ; consna, 5 ; immuitimtr-
19 ; /ajVni'idep,), 6 ; ftM'(dep.), 35 ; donatdbri, 17—
Hnpl, 38; bruiniiit, 36; /aiire/ (dep.), 14, 40; nl
18, 23 ; immaiaitnet, 4 ; iailnet (dcp.), 40 ; lailnet

xiv THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

(independent !), 8, 36 ; congairel, 7 ; forckchtat, 5 ; /otA
i"'. 4 ; f>'isf»*'at, 2 1 ; /orsngairef, 7.

Present subjunctive, sg. 3 ; irbitJiad, 30 ; Ímrttad, 1
étsed, 29.

T-preterite, sg. 3 ; áorúasat, a-j ; reiurf, 46.

Reduplicated preterite, sg. 3 : rucháala, 20.

S-future, sg. 3 : sHis, 55 ; Cónler, 51 ; adfi, 52. Secom
s-fut., sg. I : risla, 30.

Reduplicated future, sg. t ; fochUher, 56 ; aruagin, 5^
sg. 3 : gfh'd, s6 ; adndidma, 51 ; timgira, 59.

Il-future, sg. 2 : ri^e, 60— sg. 3 : glanfid, t% ; dercfid, 5É
H^a (independent I), 36, 48 ; rolhic/a, 49 ; móiihfe, 5«
fuglHsft, 48 ; /i/l-i. 28.

Imperative, sg. 2 : tvit, 30; Hnstan, 30.

Verbal nouns : ttsechl, 13, 34; ^, 13 ; Ímram
bitíud, 18.

The following passive forms occur : prcs. ind. pL, a,
54 ; see, pen. sg., atehttha, 12, 39 ; red. fut sg., ^M
57 ; ghrthair, 51 ; pret, sg., adfít, 29 ; atftss, 29 ; s-fijt ^
ftstar, 26.

As to old syntactic usage, notice the adjective and 1
glantive attributes plnced before the noun, 4, 13, 19, 29, i

Lastly, I would draw attention to the use of the follow
words as dissyllabic, though as m0.1t of them continue to tl
so used as late as the tenth century, such use ii not 11
proof of great antiquity.

Hi, 9; Haid^ so, 53, 55; Mas, 27. Cf. SalL na I
tL 8021, 8202 ; Trip. Lifi^ pp. 70, 22 ; 321, 4, 6, etc.

»
I

INTRODUCTION xv

use as monosyllables is far more frequent in Salt, oa
Rann. See 11. 835, 1076, 1599, 1951, 195a, 2043, 3047,
3*75. 3320. 3353. S^A^, 6^55. 63"S-
mist,' II.

criad, gen. of cri, ' clay,' 50, as in the dat criaiá. Salt.
7683, 7769, Monosyllabic in Salt 394 (leg. eriatd), 8230.

dia, 'God,' 48. Cf. 1. 18 in Sanctán's hymn :
friscira Dia duUck,
and Salt 1905, 2033, 3685, S3S9, 7iS7. 79^9. 8074.
Monosyllabic in Salt. 649, 1917, 1950, 2742, 3121, 3308,
7976.

diili, 'of them,' 35; as in Salt 375 (sic leg.), 437. But
monosyllabic in Salt 4975, 4985, 5401, 5417, 5869, 7704.
fia^ II.

fie, ' under her,' 6.

bolt 'drinking,* 13. Cf. ee Oui in the Milan glosses
(Ascoli); d'óol. Salt 1944.

úain, 'lambs,' 38,

It will be observed that the above fonns are taken
almost exclusively from the poetry. The prose, though it
preserves a large number of undoubtedly old-Irish forms,
also contains a good deal of what is clearly of middle-
Irish ori^n, more particularly in the verbal forms. The
use of preterites without the particle ro has been recognised
by Tbumeysen,' whom I mainly follow here, as a decidedly
later phenomenon. It occurs in Mrl, 31 ; asbtrt, 6j, 63 (bis),
64, instead of old-Ir. asrubart, and in a large number of
■ See Rev. Cell, vi., pp. 312 and 328.

xvi THEVOYAGEOFBRAN

/■preterites such as fiidit, 6i ; gabais, 63; tiribais,
eeltbrats, 66 ; shtndti, 6a. Wc find deberl 2, instead ^
old-Ir. Herat, and dobreih 6i, :ns((;ad of deratad. The ll
iaehain occurs three times (2, 31, 65), for old-Ir. ctchuin.

Such Middle-Irish forms, which all Mss. without ex«
tion conlAÍn, show that the original from which C
&rc in the first instance derived, cannot have been wrítti
much earlier than the tenth century. Bearing this ii
together twth the occurrence of the seventh century old-Ii
forms side by side with tl)ese later ones, as well as witli tl
fact that the poetry contains none of the latter, we arrive i
the following conclusions as to the history of our text.

The Voyage of Bran was originally written down in t
seventh century.' From this original, sometime in the ter
century, a copy was made, in which the language of the
poetry, protected by Hie laws of metre and assonance, was
left almost intact, while the prose was subjected ici a pTDoect
of partial modernisation, which most affected the verbal
forms. From Ihi» tenth century copy all our MSs. are derived.

In conclusion, I would draw attention to the loan-words
occurring in our tale. These arc all of Latin origin,"
'I'hey naturally fall into two groups, an older one of words

) rior. Kinnncr ilio clalnii uiu text fi» Ihii ccniufy. Ill> wordi «
(Lc, p. idx): 'Uci Text eel>^'l >un> Itllatcn wu URi v>
prolutUltFtilut crhtlim i«l x sdnc ipiachc iit dchcr 10 1
sbcslcti JtÍcUchtn glouui í er "kxaa ilw ooch d«n 7. jh. uiS*hara

■ With rrforenn to Prof. Ziaton't wtll-ltnown llwoiy u to the KotJ
urijin of Ii. fUn oad It* deriTatlvti, I miT mentian (hat the w
fhrnUocoin. m 56.

INTRODUCTION xvii

borrowed at the period of the first contact of the Irish with
Raman civilisation, before the introduction of Christianity ;
^_ a later one of words that came into Irish with Christianity.
^K To the first group belong aball, 'ahella'? 3; arggal,
^^^ ' argentuni,' 33, 14, 22 ; drauc, ' draco,' 53 ; dracon, 'dracon-
^^Kliuni,' 13, 5S ■,/!», 'vinum,' 13, \^;fine, 'ab eo quod est
^^Brinea,' Corm., 43 ; p<»'tt 'portus,' 62.
^^V Of words of the second group we find: i^r, 'chorus,' 18;
^^íBr/, 'corpus,' 46, 50; lUh, 45, through Welsh ////A from
Lat. lectio; mlaj, 'mensa,' with the meaning 'dish,' 62;
Ltum,' 41 ; praind, 'prajidium,' 62 ; ocren,
; siribaim, 'scribo,' 66.

It remains for me to express my gratitude to those
Sfho have taken a friendly interest in the production of this
Sttle book, and who have in various ways given me advice
tnd assistance ; above all to Mr. Whitley Stokes, to whom
a indebted for many weighty suggestions, as well as for
the loan of valuable transcripts ; to the Rev. Richard
Heuebry, Mr. Alfred Nutt, and Mr. P. M. MacSweeney, and
D my kind friends and colleagues, Mr. John Sampson, and
Frof. John Strachan.

KUNO MEYER,

Um VERS] TV COI,I.BGS,

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN SON OF FEBAL

The Voyage' of Bran son of Febal, and
his Expedition ' here below

I. "T^WAS fifty quatrains the woman from unknown I
\_ lands sang on the floor of the house to Biaa I
son of Febal, when ihc royal house was full of kings, who I
knew not whence the woman had come, since the ramparts I
were closed.

a. This is the beginning of the story. One day, in the J
neighbouihood of his stronghold, Btan went about alone, j
when he heard music behind him. As often as he looked 1
back, 'twas still behind him the music was. At last he fell 1
asleep at the music, such was its sweetness. When hel
awoke from bis sleep, he saw close by him a branch * of I

> ImnuH, lit 'totrinc about,' ilcnotci b vojm^ volnnUiÍlf nndcr-
tafccB, u ili(tiiicui»b«il itoa lengti, ' a rojaco of (xilc. '

* Mikln, i. <a dcrlmtÍTe a( eilitar = \M. txtn\, Ul. 'online,*
■peeUllr dcnoici npediiioiu uul «ojotims in FdtT-lanil, m in Selun J
Bmail Briec maii Briuin\l.l^ p. 170 b. 35], «ho lUjred fiftjjt»"
nwla Locti Uce! Si/Ura Ctrmait i Tir Taimiiri, Jr. Tcxie
pi, 303 : lUXtrm Ntr-ti I Rev. Cell. t. ji. »3). Eiktrm Nttlaim i
ASfrtinmiXX, p. 189^, 59l = NM:hlin nuc Cullbnin, infra 1 6j, cl

* Tlnl il wu tlic toucU Ihal (irodaccd the muiic, when 1
appMn bom *. limtLu isdJcnt in Eiktn CtrmeH. It. Trxtt li

Imram' Brain maic Febail, ocus a Echtra

I 1. /~*ÓICA rand rogab' in ben a tírib ingnalh* for
V^^ láur in tige do Bran mac Febaii,'' arrobói" a

f rígtbecb lán de rígaib. annadfetatar can doUuid^ín ben,
ÓTobsMt ind liss dilntai.

3. Is ed tossach in sceóil. Imluid^ Bran laa n-and a
óinur i comocus '■' dia drin, cocúala a ceól iama chdl. A
n-donécad lar a éissi,'" ba larna chúl beus nobllh " a ceól.
CoDtuil asendath frissa ^' ceól ar a bindi.^' A n-dofilsig '*
asa chotlud, conacca in cróib n-arggait fua bláth íind ina

I íarruth, na bu '^ basse '" etarscarath a blithe '^ frissin crdib

bbÍD.>^ Dobcrt"* farum Bran-" in cróib ina láim^' dia

' Tílb in L enljt. * andso add. Z. * rogaib H. * ingnaul If,

liuhnn iHM feupol forkur intighi H for — lige em. B. ■ sic H

^orobol RE. ' tic R iloluith E dcluith N. ' imluiti E imluil UB,

* dt R ettmfocuB ctt. " eis 5 aiss /Í Isriis E tarese S. " jfc R

Inotnedh E nobid eel. " iria S fti^n ict. " sic L biottiu B bindem

JCi Wnilicn SH. '* jiV H dofoisich RE dofuisich B. " nnbud B

■* hiuM E hcussui 3. ^ bUtha R bhitbo B blsMae HE.

\^'»m.REBL. " dobert A lonpirt á'. •" uran iaiam 5. "in

4 THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

silver with white blossoms, nor was tt easy to distinguish h
bloom from that branch. Then Bran toolt the branch iflj
his hand to his royal house. When the hosts were in tbttj
royal bouse, they saw a woman in strange raiment on the
floor of the house. 'Twas then she sang the fifty ' quat-
rains to Bran, while the host heard her, and all beheld
the woman.
And she said :

3. ' A branch of the apple-lree ' from Emain *

I bring, like those 00c knows ;
Twigs of while silver are on ii.
Crystal brows with blossoms,

4. ' There is a distant isle,

Around which sca'horses * glisten :

A fair course against the while-swelling surge, '''-

Four feet uphold it.»

5. ' A delight of the eyes, a glorious range.

Is the plain on which the hosts hold games :
Coracle contends against charioi
In southern Mag Findargat.'

' All Ihe MSS. conWin only twenly.<ÍBh1 qiulnins.

' atal/, I., which gloBca LaL ma/m in Hg. 61 b, hu con
denote «ny ftuiHtre, a» in _fic-aiuU mSr ariala, 'a Urge an
6g-lfec,' LBt. 158 a, S5' CI. Stoka, Kcv. CelL x. p. 71, n. 3.

* /.(. nomcn iTfiir>nl> (glou).

* Atfnirivfot 'cretteti tca-wavei.' CI, grvii mate LU, 'the Ssal
o( Ln*! honc^' Re*. Celt, xU. p. 104, Zimmer miuendeni
welche die mom da mecrn tpielelid autlauchcn.'

* Lil. ' whilr-tldeil wavc-melliiis.'

* Zinunef, following the oompt rcsding of S {cithnr iniUad o
mM<m>), nndcn I 'dem wuhnaiti anf Uluen von rier nuBn'l

* ('.«, Qoinco tcgioBi) (glou), ' While-Silvvc PUin.'

IMRAM BRAIN 5

rigtbig. Órobatar inna sochuidi ' Lsind rfgthig^ conaccaUr
in mnái i n-éiuch^ ingnuth for láur* in tige. Is' and"
cachain ^ in cóicait rand so do Braun * arranchúale " in slog,
ocus adchondarcatar '" uili in mnái,"
Ocus asbert : ^^

'CróÍb dind abaill" a hEmain'
dofed'* samail do goáthaib,
gésci fíndarggait fora,''
abraii glano '• co m-bláthaib.

rich lind fris' toibgel tondaC,
cetheóir'^ cossa fosloogat.

5. ' Is If » siila,*" sreth tar m-búatd,
am-mag forclechlat** int slúaig :
consna^ curach fij carpat
isin maig " less *• Findarggat.b»

■ .i. nomcn regionis ESL .L E[niic(a) noraen tegionis KU.
>• .i. nomen regioois XHESL.
inUochajifc B. » isintoigh SH. ' eluch(l) R. * Hi H Mi cet.
«idZ,. ' esnannif. ' caclioin H. ' sieK Standi. • atancoule
'• txeenacoXar ÍI aacennnisc E. " ins fiadnaisi aa'rf. L. '" jiV H
I til tsl £ sm. ttl. ■" npuilll H «lailt E. " n: E lioiet RBL difctl
I if dofeth S. " j« REL fott» S fuirti BH. '" sic B glana KSEL
I gloinie tí. " immeialnii fí. '• gaumc //. '" lU HB ecihror R
I «Ihui S ccthir L ceih. E. » Ui £. " suili R suloi H. *> e»t-
I dechtol H. =* fdiisnai II. " tic L mag jt,5£Jin»ug ^. » thes JT

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

' Feet of white bronze uodcr it
Glittering through beautiful ages.'
Lovely land throughout the world's age,
Od which the many blossoms drop.

' An ancient tree there is with blossonUt
On which birds call ' to the Hours.'
Tis in harmony it is their wont
To call together every Hour.

' Splendours of every colour glisten
Throughout the gcutle-voiced plains.
joy is known, ranked around music.
In southern Mag Argalnél.*

9. ' Unknown is «railing or treachery*
In the familiar cullivnted land,
There is nothing rQu);h or har^,*
Hut sweet music striking on the ear.

10. ■ Without grief, without sorrow, without death,
Without any sickness, without debility,'
That is the sign of Emaiii ' —
UocoDunon is tn equal marveL

* L*. hnc below (glow).

' gttirÍM u often vied oi the notoi of liirdt, t.g. : inl in gairi
liMÍt, ' the bitil th&i iLngs in the willow,' Ir. Teite iii. p. 19.

' trJíAa, the canonical hiiut>, an alluiioD Iq church 1
'/Áinma, wronglf, 'tu den Mttau'

* i.t. aamcn n^ionii (gloti), ' SilTer-Cloud t'bin.'

* j^mmi!!, wivniiif, 'voiJai gctUlH^o.'

* Ut. * with hwUincu.' Zimmai, ' fur tUe kdil* ' )
' Cf. i Mrai oiut i n-úgdt, Se^. Cone, la

* i.t. oamen tcsioni* ^ilou).

IMRAM BRAIN

' Cossa findrune ' foe,*
taiini ' tré bitbu gnóe : " '
cíin ' llr trfa bilbu " bátlu,

forsnig inna ' hilblátha.

' Fil and bile co m-bMihaib *
forsi^gairet ' eóin do thrathaib :
is tré'" cocetul is gnáih
cODgairet uili cech I rath.

' Taitnel Kga cech datho "
Irésna maige múithgrelho,"
is gnáth sube, sretb imm chéul,
isin maig " less " Arggatnéul.l»

' Nf gnSih écóioiud " na mrath "
hi mruig dánta i' etargnath,
nf bli '* nach '* gargg firi cníais,'"
achi ° mad céul m*bind frismben" ciúais."

' Cen brÚD, cen duba, cen bás,
ccn nach n-galar" cen" indgás,^
is ed etargne n-Emne,'^ '"
nt comtig a ci

\s£. ■• .i. nomen cegionis RBHE. ' .i, regia J!

,i. nomeo legionis //£.

• fiodbruine B findi^it Z, ' foK £ foi /f. * sti S tailne /Í//Í

[ Utbtie B luthnit £. * gnoa; £ gnooa //. • doin Jf. ' bilha EN,

^ Ibisiugit Da B. ■ blatoiu //. ' forBangaiiet £ff. " tiia E Iriaa if.

t^túS daiha «Í, " inoilgrclha /Í moiter grclhii RE moiiet gredo S

J mtAttr grelho 3 mxihgnilha Z, "* mag B£. '* thcas E its L,

*• «ccalnedh £ eccoine B eccaine H. " mbralh RSBE nibiid H.

\ " diania R deanta E deaolai H. '* bi BB bidh E. " gutli add. L.

" Cfous L croia RBEH. " is add. R. ° ftisamben E. » clonis REL

clcoi» // dois B. »* galur £H. » jú Z fri cct. " «V ^Z Unngas £5

^ UgKUi ff hiiigxs B. ^ \s etir aitgne ncmiiEe Z, " comlabiai f .

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

II. 'A beauty of a wondrous land,

Whose aspects are lovely.
Whose view is a fair country,
Incomparable is its haze.

13. 'Then if Aircthech' is seen,

On which d ragon stones * and crystals drop
Tlie sea washes the wave against the land,
Ilair of crystal drops from its mane.'

13. 'Wealth, treasures of every hue,

Are in Ciuin,* a beauty of freshness,
Listening to sweet music.
Drinking the best of wine.'

14. ' Golden chariots in Mag Rdiit,'

Rising with the tide to the sun,
Chariots of silver in Ma)- Mon,'
And of htanze without blemish.

15- ' Vcllow golden steeds ate on the sward there,
Other steeds with crimson hue,
Otlien with wool upon tlieir backs
Of ihe hue of heaven all-btue.

' i.f. re(!o (elo«)> ' BouDiifnl Land.'

* dniiein = lM. draconli^e.
' 'Muie' and 'hur' arefrcqaenl kenning» in Irlih poetry for t

ocsl and ipray of ■ wavc.r.f..' r> H-tdmarai meng/er mtiir, < while d
ciMled «av« renuinB on (he tea,' Ir. Texle Hi. p. 16. Cf. alio the **'
tUrtik, 'hairy' (frum liirt .L fitUa ■<■ gnltiilt /iiiai in «Han Á
*Ji*, HuL 5aSo, fo. 41 ■] iniUsiaiml (iMe. LL. 17 b, j=/WAMiri
tiiirigi, wrongly «ijilainiil liy DXlery, ».*. IHirigk.

* Lt, lunU (|;lou), t.i. nomcn rcgiuiiis (cIoh), 'Gentle Lead.'

* Cf. Sg. 113 b, wlwte thisfinmtfiru glc«ec * nectv.*

* 'Plain of the Se».'

' U. rt^ Ighw}, ' riais of SporU.'

IMRAM BRAIN

II. 'CáÍne' tfre adamri,*
ata caingnúsi cadli,'
asa rodarc * find fia,*
nf frithid " bid a cia.'

13. ' Ma ' adcctha" Airclhech ' tar tain
forsnig dracoin ocus glain,"
dosnig am-mutr '' fri lit toind,
triisi glano ■* asa " moiog.

13. ' Máini, dússi each datho '*

hi Ciiiin,'' cáine étalho,"
ítsecht fri céul co m-bindi,
Ó0I ■" ílno " úingtindi,"'

14. ' Carpait órdi "" hi Maig Réin,

taircet ^ la " tule don gréio,
earpail arggail i Maig Mon "^
ocus crédnmi*' cen on.

15. ' Graig óir budi ^ and fri '* sraih

graig aile" CO corcardath.
graig aile*° oalann tar ais
CO D-dath nirae huleglais.^

' .i. re^o £S .i. nomea n^onis US. <> .i. in icsola X insola £

.i. Domeo regÍoDÍs //, ' .i. regio JtE A. Damen regionis £//.

* caolne S. ' caintit alanine adoine Z. ' sic X caínle L. ' tadarc

• fiu S(i/mN. • sic EL rritbit RB fntidi H frilil S. ' ciaa

^etí. ' mad 5. ' raadcctho B. '° gloln RBE. " ammt A'S.

rV B gUuu KEL glanai tí. ■■ dira H uosa L. " Hc B dalhfl «/.

f canivtdaiha i{ caincl tlattio B cain eltdnlha H cake éd dalha £

:ha S hidiiin ítdalha Z. " hool RE. '" sk R flra £rt,

I ocncrinde Aáhengrinde H. ^ sic RE ordd Zf orda BL. " imgit

y. " lioa tf. " musDX S credumai J/. ■" buide REIÍ.

f fot BL. " aili ff. *" aili A'. " huileuglais R.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

' At sunrise there will come
A fair man illumininE level lands ;
He rides upon tlie fair sea-washed ' pUin,
He Btirs the ocean till it is blood.

17. ' A host will come across the dear sea,
To iht land they show their rowing ;
Then they row to the conspicuous stone,
From which arise a hundred strains.

18. 'It sin^ a strain unto the host
Through long ages, ii is not sad,
lis music swells" with choruses of hundreds—
They look for neither decay nor death.

19. ' Many-shaped Emne ' by the sea,

Whether it be near, whether it be for,
In which are many thousands of motley '
Which the clear sea encircles.

' If he has heard the voice of (he music,
The chorus of the little birds from Imchiuin,*
A small band of women will come from a heigU
To the plain of sport In which he is.

I Lit ' againit wliich the Ma 1mt&*
' Lit. ' It incrtucs music'

* Il(r« anil is | 60 the nomlnaiivc Emoc U uscil i
Emom (H 5. 'o)-

* Ir. irn, ' vaiiijpicil,' pioliably icJcttini; to their iIiCM. (X ■
SMftH iUiiíAati, .Sci^l. Cunc. 4^

* It. aomoi Fqponlt (|[lo»), ' Vny Gentle Land.'

IMRAM BRAIN

16. ' Dofeith ' la ' tnrcMil * n-gréne
íer find íorosna* réde/
redid mag find frismbein muir,
mescid ' fairggj co m-bf fuil.

17,' 'Dofeith* in sliiag* lar muir glan,"
don tfr donaidbri " imram,
imráid " fanim " dond lice " léat "
asa comfrig cét céu\.

18. 'Canid^airbitiud'^dont slog

Ire bithu sir, nat bf " tróg,
tormaig c^ul co córib '• cét,
ní frescet '" aiihbe" ná íc.**

19. 'Enme ildelfaach fri rian,^

bésu " oeus,** bésu ™ chtan,"
i fil ilmfii m-brec m-ban,
immuBlimerchei muir glan.**
30. 'Máruchiiala* túad'" in chiúil,
esnacb" énán a hlmchiúin,"
dofeith '^ banchorén" di haa
cusa^ cluchemag itaa.

I. regio

/iS.i

a itgm.

i//.

icXáoíiíAíídoíxlhL. Mie^. ' lursuhdii I/EB.

R (biosDAi H. ' fofid coforus sneidhc t~ ' mescijd B mesccaid H.
i R nglan

VJ om.S. ' irV R (lofcOi HE doíél L. » sloag R. '"
BffE-. " danaidbriu H doDaidtibre E. " imr^ig JiE.

liie JtE. " loir BH. " sit R csnait L. " sic R aiifidírf HE

'bimW/r «irpeledh L. ■* niha B. " corib R cotaib BHE cuirib
~ lie S nisreisce B ifrsca R ftescsdh E frescait B (reseat i.

«ilbbi failhui //. " inda H. " iri «o A'. ^ hesa. E heuss H.

\uxm B adoccus H. " beta JE ueuss ^. " hician ^. " jií Í£
Ofikn i//. »■ hV ^ rocoala £5. " luail RES log /T. " sU E
iuucb /'.S esnnc H isnnn Í. * difct R difedh £ difelt H difeili 5
(lojéd £ doled j^. " bancoien£bBacbuire^Lbiu)caireii£. *■ cusin

( THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

31. ' There will come happiness with health
To the land against which laughter peals.
Into Imchiuin at every season
WiU come everlasting joy.

' It is a day of lasting weather
That showers silver on the lands,'
A pure-white clifTon the range of the si
Which from ihc sun receives its heat

23. ' The host race along Mag Mon,'

A beautiful game, not feeble,

In the variegated land over a mass of beauty

They look for neither decay nor death.

24. ' Listening to music at night,

And going into Ildathach,'

A variegated land, splendour on a diadem of b

Whence the white cloud glistens.

ij. ' There are thrice Rfty distant isles
In the ocean to the west of us ;
larger than Erin twice
Ib each of them, or thrice.*

> Oi, peihajw, if wc read !■* luliaim itut, 'It i* Ihiongh lutlact)
wcatbM (lit. luiinf^iu ol wcathei) that lilvei drop» oe the landi.'

* i.f. mace, ' I'lain aí Spocli.'

* i-#. Doom tegionii, ' Maoy-eoloored Land.*

* Thii quslialii napiKori In a «imewhal mixlified form In a poem
(Laud 61 S. p. iK) adilisue<l (o Coluni Cille by kloogui, who had
come from the Land of PromÍM < 71r 7''Un>evi) lo meet lb* uiat ti
Caitaic EoUitE on Lough Foyle. Sec AppcntUJi, p. 88.

IMRAM BRAIN

' Dofeith ' sdire la sUini *

don lit frisferat giiri,

is i n-Imchiúin' each* ágp °

dofeith^ Maine' !a báni.'
23. ' Is lá ° suthainc sine

dosnig '" ai^gal i tire,

aill erSnd " for" Ídna réin

fbafeid " a giiss a grein."
23. ' Graibnid " in slag far '" Maig Mon,"

clucbe n-álaind, nad icdron,

i mruig " mrecht '* úas '* maisse met,

nf frescat"* aiihbe ná éc.
14. ' Étsecht Ití céul i n-adig,^

ocas techl i n-Ildathig,b ^

miuig^ mrecht,^ Kg das maisse mind

asa taiini in nél tind.
' Fil Ui ciictea" inse clan "

isind OCCOD " frirn anfar ;

is mo Érinn ** co fa d[ **

each ái dfib * nd ía ihrf.^'

e Jlff£. " .1. tegio XE .1 oomen regionis Bli.
' dofet XI dofelt B dofcd S dofelh ff. ■ slane ff. ' isinnchiuin
X. * a^i» X cona B con /ÍL cana E gun S. ° agi lí aighe S uiglii
£ oighi L ainc //. ' doielt XB doled E dofelh US dothaed Z.
' HI B boane XE boiini S baioe ff boinc Z. ' ane X chaine £
haiae.<iii.S. • la AfSS. " dasnig S. " iar find XEB ierfind ff
ailJer find fot findnarein L. " sic IIBL four S tuo R fon E. " jjV
iJf fofeid J dofif H AoUth B. " agrisiv dagteo H. » ju- fl£
^aifnid ilZr, •• ar ffZ, " «V B muigh £. " mbtechl REBL
i/rcdtl Í' l)iict ^. '" oas RL. * nls liescad L freical ^ frescaJl B.
" 1« i£ odaig SB inatigh £. =■ ildidig RE. ™ hV ^. " sic RUE.
*■ coicia R X» H .1. £S choectha Z cni«u S, ^ cert X accin f.
" ric RE. " coibeia Ek«b BS. " tii 5. " dib RE diou j
" mix III fail ingoci innsi dibh B asn/lil gctch indsi dib S.

1 THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

26. 'A great birth ' will come after ages,
That will nol be in a lofty place,'
The son of a woman whose mate will not be loiow)
He will seize the rule of the many thousands.

27. 'A nile without beginning, without end,^j

He has created the world so that it is perfect,

Whose are earth and sea,

Woe to him that shall be under His unwÍU I *

28. 'Tis He that made the heavens,
Happy he that has a white heart,
He will purify hosts under pure water,*
Tis He that will heal your sicknesses.

39. ' Not to all of you is my speech,

Though its gteat marvel has been made tcnown :
Let Bran hear from the crowd of the world
What of wisdom has been told to him.

30. ' Do not fall on a bed of >totfa,

Let not thy intoxication overcome thee,

Begin a voyage across the dear sea,

If perchance thou mayst reach the land of womei

■ t.f. Chtin (giou).

* Lit. ' U[Kia It* rid£G-t>ol«i or loof'tiea,' KlJudiitg proioblf to the
lowly birth of CbticU

* Cr. or ailii tm lauti (tm ferttim gl. qui ante crcatnra exctdia
Idem EMC non (Itiiniu, Mt. ttod, \%.

* Cf. Sloka, Coid. ]>. 1S3 : Mth /ii Ueil m«ii Main, ' (» he undcf
IIk unwill of Mary'i Soo.'

> An bIIiuIdq to Isplitoi.

IMRAM BRAIN

j6. 'Ticfa már'-gein* far m-bethaib''
oad bfa'for' a forclethaib,'
mac mná nad festar' céle,
gébid" flaitli na n-ilmfle.'

37. ' Flaith cen tossach cen forcenn,*
donjasat" bitb co forban,

is maJTgg bias fiia étuil,"

28. ' Is he dorigni nime,

céinmait" dia m-ba findchride,"
glanfid " slúagu '^ fua '" linn glan,"
is he fcfes for tedman.'*

29. * Nf dúib uili '" mo tabre,*'

da atfess** a móramre ;
étsed Bran de " bellio ^ brúu '*
a n-di " ecDie adfét » ddu."

dús in risia tCr na tn-ban.'

L. Crist HB.

•XKE.

> niAT BEHL. ' biad BE. » achi L. * fore clcalhaib E.

' futKa R feslor N. ' gehaid RSL eebait 11. ' meh U mcile B

mtae L. ' \oxzen RS. ' daroasat R <I(irQasad£dotoss.iL f dotosat

\ dialMlsidh Z. u iic R ossiu B nsai //. " clluil ít eloil ^^

£ cenmaii RUB. " finlcridhe £ finchiide RBSH.

bainfid RS glnnfuid H glanfiit B gUn tidh L. "■ lic L sluaga RE

ni // intlog Í. " trc B Irie fi^ thar Z. " gloin H. "> «V RE

Doia /T. " huilc S. *■ labr» i£ lauhme H. " ciadfes £

r. R di i/£ do JJ. » Hi i bclhni ff beiha BBS.

U S\ao RBSE oi». L. ' 3Ú L Ao RJ/BSB. "adfcaliV. "sic

m.JC£ ndo /T. " taill H. » Icscfle ff lessga ff. »" oachid jV£

mesca A'//. " nglan RBHEL.

i6 THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

31. Thereupon the woman went from them, while t
knew not whither she went.' And she took her bra
with her. The branch sprang from Bran's hand into I
hand of the woman, nor was there strength in Bran's
lo hold the branch.

31. Then on the morrow Bian went upon the sea.
number of his men was three companies of nine. One Q
his foster-brothers and mates ' was set over each of t
three companies of nine. When he had been al
days and two nights, he saw a man in a chariot comiq
towards him over the sea. That man also sang thirty J
other quatrains to him, and made himself known to hia
and said that he was Manannan the son of Ler, and s
that it was upon him to go to Ireland after long ages, i
that a son would be bom to him. even Mongan son (
Fiachna — that was the name which would be upon him.

So be sang these thirty quatrains to him :

33. ' Bran deems it a mar\-ellous beauty
In his coracle across the clear sea :
While to me in my chariot from afar
It is a flowery plain on which he rides about.

' Zlmmcr renders ' ob tie |;eEangEn.' Bui r/n lierc in
( = Doric rn, Strach&n). Cf. ntiettftu tU de^katar, LL. 390», %
mi fttatar cut ditckaid né eon JenluiJ, ScrgL Cone ■ 1. etc. In l9
(toscr of ' whciber,' (ia occun only L.i tbc pbnue eia . . . •
. . . 01 wA,' t.g. : fíbisíriá i«líiiiila ail, /S leiii ftHíB tiatia, Lt> 1(
]o: tia/egataJ ttiue/afiaj, raitinJir ar a tAimt, LL. 51 b^ If.

* Lit. 'niroof thc»»inc»£c.'

* The MSI. (giiD contun only twciily.d£hl qiutiaia*.

* |(. ilamud mouu lo make knawn one** wuse, at pBtronjrmi^ d
in iUwl, & 501, Id. 7J ■■ > : Buika a eimm, mat km
or got'* native {Jkc u In LU. ISb, 51 tv ÍMtfáig KmatK § ti
at. Aétrl frim: it UUaiidamsA

IMRAM BRAIN 17

. Luid ' in ben dadib * (arom ' annadfetatar cia * luid,"
JciiS bin a* cróib lee. Leblaing Ínchnjib di láim Brain co
D-bói for Idim inna itind, ocus ni bói ^ nert i láim Brain do
^báil inna cróibe.

33. Luid Bran iarom arabárach for niuir. Trf nonbuir

Rlbi. Oinfer forsnaib** trib" nonburaib'" dia " chomaltaib

nis comdisib. O robói dá " Id ocus dl aidclii forsin '"

muir, conacci a dochum in fcr Ísin charput " (arsin '-^ inuir.

I Canaid ^' in fer hfsin '^ dano '* irichait rand n-aile dóu,'"

ocus sloindsi '" dóu *' ocus asbett ^^ ba he Manannán *' mac

Lir, ocus asben bói aire tuidechl^ i n-Érinn far n-aim-

_ seraib cíanaib, ocus nogigned mac liad" .i. Mongan*" mac

Flachnai,*' ised foridmbiad. Cachain ^ iarom in trichail ^"

indsadóu:— «>

33. 'Cáine"amre*lasm m-Drao
Ína chiirchán ^ tar niuir glan ; "

OS me" im' charput di ™ chéin,
is mag scothach immat&d.

' twom íbW, BLS. ' SK H oadoji E. ■ inrsin S ern. JJBL.
:, » dotluidh £ doluid ff. ' Ía S. ' lie H bii H bioi E
' foma RBSHE. " sit II iti RBSE. " nonmuniíb H
enbdnili R nonbum E. " dca RS Ae E. " di RBBS. " forsan
}BBSL forin B fona E. '* caq>at R. " taisíJi S. " anx B et
linoUt jy. " sin H. " <kno úin. SL. "" ríí B nda H do ett.
' ilwiuid (t sloiiuaed E sloinid H sloinne B sloindside L. ^ sú B
*" atftfrt I/. " MoDonnnn //. » lidííAí JT lotAt £.
H nuad E. * Mogt.'aD ES. " Ficchnfti H Fiaehiii R
jhachlit -V. " cachuin B canuid H. ^ tiiíía E. * líV B do A'J
o ÍTdoc £ HOI, /-. " sit It can! ff5 eanai E eaini Z. *" amr* R
* nBlan íI/ÍJ. » cUauiclim R chuorcban E. » him //.

i8 THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

34- ' What is a clear sea

Fot the prowed skiff in which Bran is,

That is a happy plain ' wiih profusion of flowers

To me from the chariot of two wheels.

35. ' bran sees

The number of waves beating ' across (he clear »
I myself see in Mag Mon*
Red-headed flowers without fault.

36. 'Sea-horses glisten in summer

As far as Bran has stretched his glance :
Rivers pour forth a stream of honey
In ihe land of Manaiinan son of Ler.

37. ■ The sheen of the main, on which thou art,

The white hue o( the sea, on which thou rowc
Yellow and aiure are spread out,
It is land, and is not rough.*

38. 'Speckled salmon leap from the womb

Of the white sea, on which thou lookest :
They are calves, (hey are coloured iambs
With friendliness, wiihoul mutual slaughter.'

' Or //4' AMI nujr hero he a place-name. Cf. % 39.
meal fiequL-nl ilcugnalkin of llie Iriih elyiiuui.

' TliU Kcm* to be the meaning of ihe verb Mnni, anothei «
ui which occun in Rev. Crit. xl p. 130 ; ni /nil IrditA maek l_
torn, which I ought 10 have londctcd ' there ii nu «Inwil that a N
does Dot beat.'

* ' rUin of Spotti,' gloocil by ' marc ' abuve, ) 23.

* Thi* I tAke to be the BVeaninc ai iimnrai, the negative of a

' inoodi,' which occun in tftmb imatiait ttmrataii (LL> tj6 %■
' with hcxiped UDooibhomjb' Stukci conjeciBret -ntf lobeo
mMt VI. riaíité,' \of,\e.'
' Li, The ttlDuia whkh Unm tc«* ate caUe* and ue Uiabi (|

IMRAM BRAIN 19 ^^H

•An-asmuirglan ^^|

don nói ■ broinig > itá > Bran, ^^^H

is mag meld ' co n-iinmul " scoth ^^^^^^^H

datn-sa ' carput dá roth. ^^^^^^^^H

^B ^^'

Bran ^^^^^^^|

Kn libri' tarmuirglan:' ^^^^^^^^^|

atchfii ° i Maig Mon ^^^^^^^^^|

scotha cennderga cen ^^^^^^^^^|

' Taitnet » gabra iir i sam '^^^^^^H

sella roisc " Bran, ^^^^H

brui&dit ^ srocha '" sruaim de " mil, ^^^^^H

'" crlch Manannáin '° maic Lir. ^^^^H

^H ^^'

' Li ^" na fairgge foratái, ^^^^H

j{etdi>d " mora immerái,^ ^^^^^H

rasert ^ bude ocus glass, ^^^1

is talam, nad écomrass. ^^^^^H

' Lingit ich " brícc ass de '^ brú ^^^^|

a " muir lind forsnaicci '^-siu, ^^^^|

i[ lóig, it úain CO n-dath M ^^^1

CO cairddi,^ ceD>° imniarbad,'"' ^^^^H

1 ocus it úaia na brat^a atchl Bran RBHE. ^^^|

^^Vi donui BE (lot

I.ÍX.M ■bronigX^btomdig^. ^aX3.RB\AS. ^^^|

^^U: £ mell ^a.

* imal RE imol // iumat B. * lic RE bi H\ cil. ^^^|

^Hétpre tf libra i:.

'ríiHoEUnRBES. " budhcn i. " cenlerca /. ^^H

^^■dllJ?^. '* laithnil ^£. "sellÍS. ^^toú^eBSHE. '"bnindiii^ ^^H

^^■irindct E. ■* «coiha ^^f M " m R do ^/í^. '» hi ^í b BEH. ^^^|

"■liifli. n »K ^S gello[£ gellal //gcllaidí' ^^H

^^■idatt £.

nitroi j¥5 hncraoi ^ inimroi E. " roscit ^£J. ^^H

^^n«khtf. "AoHSE. 'ifí. ■" si{HEfBnw.c)ÁRBL. »hiuaam ^^H

^^KdSublll.Olc on

litír //. " cairdi R corcotde //. » cín i?. ^^^M

^^Kmubath J?££.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

39. 'Though (but) one charíot-iider is seea
In Mag Mell' of many flowers,
There are many steeds on its surface,'
Though them thou seest not.

40. 'Tlie site of the plain, the number of the host,
Colours glisten with pure glory,
A fair stream of silver, cloths * of gold.
Afford a welcome with aU abundance.

' A beautiful game, most delightful.
They play (sitting) at the luxurious* wine.
Men and gentle women under a bush,
Without sin, without crime.

42. 'Along the (op of a wood has swum

Thy coracle across ridges,
There is a wood of beautiful fruil'
Under the prow of thy little skiff.

43. 'A wood with blossom and fruit,
On which is the vine's veritable fragrance,
A wood without decay, without defect,
On which are leaves of golden hue.

' ■ PlMMOt. or tUppy Plain." See note 00 S 34.
■ i.t. There woe many hosts neat him, u>A Bran did not tec ll
(gloM).

* TIÚ1 rendering tctit on ttic lery iloulxful conntetioi
with Uil. flraffui, from which It miKhl be a loan. Shoulil «
ihe oUcutc ilDE drtngaiiir [tic Icgcndum Í) drtffa datn», Goid.
p. 176 f

* A mat 6"=^ »' ''" nieanioi; iif imborhoik.
' Lib ' ■ nfuod mulcr ouM (ncoriu) in which ii licauly,'

IMRAM BRAIN

39. 'Céatchctha' óinchairplech '

i Maig Meld^ ca n-immut * scoth,
fil mór d'echaib' for* a' bri,*
cen suidj^ nad^ aicci-siu.

40. ' Met in maige, Kn int slliaig,"'

taitnet " Kga '^ co n-glanbúaid,"
findsnith'* arggajt, drepa" iSir,
laircet fáiUÍ" cech" ÍmróiII.'^

41. 'Cluche" n-óimin"'n-inmeldag*'

aigdit" fri lla n-imborbag"
fir is " mná mfne " fo doss,
cen peccad," cen immorboss."

42. ■ Is far m-barr fedo'^ rosoá*'

do churchán" tar indiada,
fii " fid fo mess i m-bí gnóc ^ "
foa ^ braini ^ do beccnóe.*'

43. 'Fidcom-blálh»ocuslonid''

fotsmbí^fínefirbolud,

fid cen erehre,'" cen esbad,

forsfil*" duiUí CD n-órdath,

■ .i. b£i iDÓt dirimme ina farrHi/ocus n! faca Bran RBHE.

»- .i. seg./d E.

' CRchetha RBE ídchether L. ' oinchaitplhech R. ' sic R mcll H

it /fimmat í iniat£imad5, » decchaib^Z. *■ ax RE.

* em. BL. ' suide HBHE. ' nnl BH. '" sloig BL. " taithtii E.

' Ughi B ligai H. " CO lanbuiíilrt H boaiJ B. " finnsrulh S

B£iindn]thfflinnroth£fÍDdruthX. I'dreupaiZTdrcplitha^drepthiZ,

» foUli It. " sic K ten H. '" Ímroild B imraill E. '" duithe S.

" mrimi» H naimin KBE. •' ninoieUflg 5. » aiphil £ aighid H.

^ tit ^nimorbaghínimborbad £

? nimwrbagh E nimocba^ //1
" iiBirboss E immorbus ,~
I H. " cbaurchan E.

■ gniu // gnx £ gnoaj L.

H. ** braine ^ bruine S bniinne
lOEci. »'bladífoblat/í'. "sic
hnaHÁRBE. " achia *5 aifchre i. " foraabGI Í .

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

44. ' We are from Ihe beginning of ci

Wilboul old 3ge, witiioul consummation ' of earth,' I
Hence we expect not that ' tliere should be frailty,
The sin has not come to us.

45. ' Ad evil day when the Serpent went

To the father lo his city 1 *

She has perverted the limes* in this world.

So that there came decay which was not original.

46. ' By greed and lust he° has slain us,

Through which he has ruined his noble race :

The withered body has gone to the fold of torment^ J

And everlasting abode of torture.'

47. ' It is a law of pride in this world

To believe in the creatures, to forget God,*
Overthrow by diseases, and old age,
Destruction of the soul through deception.

48. 'A noble salvation' will come

From the King who has created us,
A white law will come over seas,
Besides being Cod, He will be man.

' I \A.e fiirblht to be the oculcr form of the puuve putidpl
/tritnim utcd u ■ nbtunlivc

■ ij. of the erave.

■ I take mhtii to b« the jid liBg. injunctive tAbiu, with the n
m pn fixed.

* ■'.(. to Adun in Paradiu.

* Thii reDdeTÍoc ot laiiit {laibti) tmi i* not much belter tl
Cueit. r«ihap* láitn i> « noun deiivcd from táib, *

' Cf. LU. 17 li. It: dtii/ÁaifntfJmítMir^ittMitatAírÍtA^
LL. iSl t. tSt ^ Utiailtrri^Att etwi rígi am naU m-MI ttír.

■ i.e. wonhippinc idolf (sl<a>l-
■£«. Cbim(j[loM|.

IMRAM BRAIN

44, ' Fil dÚD Ó thossuch ' diile
cen áiss, cen foirhthe" n-úre,
ri[ frescam ' de mbeth < anguss,
nfntaraill' Ínt inunotbus."

45. 'Ok ilth dolluid ind nathir'
cosin n-athir* dia chathLr,^
sáib si'" céni " i m-bith ché'"
CO m-bu baithbe nad búe.'^

46." ' Ronort a " cróts " ocus saint,
aésí n-derhaid '^ a ióirchlaind,"
elhais corp'* crin cr6 péne
ocus* biihaittreb rége."

47, 'Is recht uabuir"! m-biih cht5°
cretem •* dúle,'' dermal o-Dé," ™
tróithad n-galar,'' ocus .liss,
apthuM anma>* Irfa togiis.

48. 'Ticfalessarcon úasal'i'*
ónd *' rig dorearúasat,''
recht find fuglóisfe^ muire,
secb bid Dia,*- bid duine»

» .i. adtMl Idal XBffE. "> .i. CilslRB.
titB lOESBch R. » forptiS R oirphtW B (birfi /Tfoibti E forbthe Í.
k RBS frcig<»i E. * dambeat H dímbed L. * matoruilC H. ' sic
B imorpaj H imirboss R inuubwi E. ' sic L indathir RB inalhair
ES snalhoic H. * cosinaihsir R cosindslharr B cnsinathiut HR.
• chathaii KL. " saibsl ES saibse RBL sailhbsi H. " j« R cena
EH cenu í'. " che L ee RBHES. " hat ff bu he ^' buidhe X.
'• 46 em. *. " hi BL, " croes ZTi croeis B craos 5£. " emfauill
J?erbaid S. " hsaorchlaoiwd ^soercloinn ^snorclaiud £'. " cona
B x^-ti H. ^ oc B « rede £ redie H reidhe Ji, »" oabiiir RL.
» ce RBHEL. »• credim Í «eidem 5 ciedlum H crede Z. " duli
RH. » de RSHE. " ngalair ^. ™ aplha /T^ apta HE apad 5.
" inmo H. " huasal ff A " bond RB on i/£'. =" '
doicaiossat BHAattitosal ^dorearúsaddfdoié rosatZ. " fogloaisre
BE. " bidia E bidea Í. " biduioi ES.

^^m BE. " bidiu

14 THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

49. 'Tills shape, he on nbom thou lookest,

Will come to ihy pans ; '

Tis mine to journey to her house,*

To ihc woman in Line-mag.'

50. ' For it is Moninnan, the son of Ler,

From the chariot in the shape of a man,
Of his progeny will be a very short while
A fair man in a body of white clay.*

51. 'Monann, the descendant of Ler, will be

A vigorous bcd-fcllow' to Cainligem :'

He shall be called 10 his son in the beautiful world,

Fiacbna will acknowledge him as his son.

;i. ' He will delight ' the company of every fairy-kuoll,
He will be the darling of every goodly land,
He will make known secrets— a course of wisdom—
In the world, without being feared.

53. * He will be in the shape of every beast,
Both on the aiure sea and on land,
He will be a dmgon before hosts at the onset,'
Hg will be a wolf of every great forest

* íiíto Ireland.

* i.t. to (he wife of Fiaduu, king of the Ulster Ddrlado, wbfl
royal wat wiu Kotbintirc, la MoylJnny (Lincmag), co, Antrim.

* i.t. ' the Conctptiun of Mungaii ' (gio»).

* it. Mcingin «on of Kiochiia (glou).
' Ul. 'will Ilea vÍ£Oroax lyinc.'

* ' Fair Lady,' the name of Kiochna't wife. Gilla Uodutn, i
poem StniAai Han (LL. 140 a, 31), writltn in 1I47 &.D., wmSu
lh( liaughtcr of I>cmtiiin Duliladia'* son.

' Thit » B gucM It the mtniiine of »i4iikfi. I take ll to ilot
miitkff.Uom miilha.im, mod. ma^haim, 'I toftcn.'

* I frsiit any mean ' in ■ abowcr ' 1 bni /rut it bIm wed 1
pborically in the scnie of 'attack, onsel.' Cf.

IMRAM BRAIN

49- ' In delb he ' nofelhi-su
roUiicfa^ it' letbe-su,
ariimlliá echtre' dia tig
cosin mnái i Linemaig.*

SO. ' Sech is MoDÍnnSn * mac Lir
asin ' charpui crulh ° ind fir,
blaid' dia cblaind densa angair'
fer Cain" i curp crfad '" giLl) "

5'-

'Conlee" Monann "^ maccu'^ Li
lúthlige la Cáimigim,"'
g^hair dia mac i m-bith gnóu,
adndidma " Flachna

dóu.'"

S3. ' Móithfe "* sognáiss " each side,
bid treicl " each daglhÍTC,
adiit rúna, rith ecni,^

nbith c

a ecli.'

S3. 'Biaid»*! fethol^'cech^mfl
ttir gUsrauir ocus tir,
bid drauc" re m-buidnib i íroiss,''
bid CÚ allaid ceeh indroiss.
• .i. Competi Moneain RBHE. " Mongán RBHE.
" -i. coiblige HE,
* dclprdh S. ' rohicf» RBSE rolaficfa H roicfn L. ' echtra R.
\ Moniodui R Maninnan BS Manonnan H Manaorfan EL. ' isio E.
\x B. ' liied RBE bieid ^ bed J. ■ angoir HS densangair
XBL den lin gair £. • «oin BS. ■" cria(»)d R. " adgil B ngil H
gloin h gloin S, " Monand R Monuon fl Manonn B Mannain .S'.
•» moc» R mac BHEL mic S. " Lira» SL inLÍra H. " Caointigim

IB Caointicinin .S' Caintigitiur L. " gnu RBHE gnoe S gnac L.
" »dndima S adndma H ailidin L. ■* sic E ndó itt. " moitii H
kaitllfcd L. " sognas A'fA " treilil B lietild // Iretii S dretel Z.
P Btoe ^í eccna H egna 5 eicnc Z. » ecle A'^í'í cccla M ecU J.
ft Udil BHS bicd £. » ietul S. » ceca JV. " «V ^S draic fi£5
t

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

54. ' He will be a slag with horns of silver
In the land where chariots are driven,
He will be a speckled salmon in a full pool,
He will be a seal, be will be a fair-wbiie swa

S5. ' He will be throughout long ages '
An hundred years in fair kingship,'
He will cut down battalions,' — a lasting grave-
He will redden fields, a wheel around the track. 1

$6. ' It * will be about kings with a champion
That he will be known as a valiant hero,
Into the strongholds of a land on a height
I shall send an appointed end* from Islay.*

57. ' High shall I place him with princes,

He will be overcome by a son of error; '
Moninnan, the son of Lcr,
Will be his father, his tutor.

* Ct. poit iDortem (glou).

* Lt. fiunoa*, wiiboat end {anfartHtdaih ? ef. LU. 3& b, 37|J
in fatura corpoce (glcw).

' a. m»>/ijirfi, LV. 66 b, 36.

* The tnnaUtioii o( iliU c|uatr*in 1« veiy onceitain, at ihc Itldtfl
is hopctosly cormpl in several p\acei.

* Ai (o tlitt meaning of ainAtuJ sec Windiuh, Bcr. d,
Geicllicluri dcr WbMntchaften, i<).7. 189a

< i.t, pro^irium iloch (rIom). Herv ilgd it oUcure I0 ne.
expccli > WDnl far 'itland.' IsUy I* alto lefcrrcd to InB '
poem on the dcalh of Mongan (Four Maitcn, A.I1. 6»).
to Cin4od u Utrtactin ( + 975), Mougan waa ktUtd 1^ s bcu fl
Cantire ila/tím CiidHrt, LU 31 b, 43).

' ThiircFcn lo Mongac'i dcalb at rhe hand* of Aitiu mac Ifica

IMRAM BRAIN

54, ' Bid dam co m-bcndaib arggait
i mruig ' i n-agtar' carpait,
bid écnc ^ brecc Íl-lind * lán,'
bid run, bid ela tmdbán.

55. 'Bíaid trébithuBsfri'"

cét m-blédne * hi Rndrrgi,l>
si lis lergga, lecbt imchían,
dercfid * rúi " roth " imm rfan.''

56, ' B(d '■■' Ímm rfgu >' la " íénnid "

bid lálh " gailc fri aícni,'»
i n-dindach " mroga for aa
focliiclier'" airchend a íli.'^"

57. ' Art aningéD " la flaiihi,'^
gébthir" fo mac n-imraichni,
sech bid Moninnán ^
a athir," a fithithir.^

Lír

,L posl mortem RBBE. ^ .i. amia infoiicDecl^ .i. in futuro
n CDFpDte B .L amni ínforcDediDC \sii\ .t. ÍQ fulHro carpert H
F (cotporia E). • i. proprium iloch XB (iluch B).

' mrug ií, ' indaglhar Jí aghlor lí aglhair S. ' hecne Ji. * ío
liiifi S. » lain ASSE. ' bilha XS bithui ff bithe £. ' sita JtE
rion S litai £ sire Z. ■ tií Jl blitidna S blia. //. * deircfct X
dctcfcl * dífgfuid If dcircf. £ detgf. J dcnnicted L. '" roe /íre £.
" «Ih *. " imreo .ffíi imrioan /f umtian E. " ffw. RBESL.
" biid r^ Z? imiig úo SL riga ^. " iia B. " feinnid 3 fendidli Jf
fendÍEh 5 findidhe L. " Iiith K£. " sic BB aicnc J/f ccne E
liuchne L. " andindoch S. * focichait £■. "' aill R ailli £ aillie
H. ■ aninEen í atangen ESL doniigín H. " flnithc RB failhe Z.
" geblhair ^gebtair^gcbtQrZíe^bihai E gubtit Z. " niinisgneífi
~^. " Moininnatt á Maníinn»n £S Monaiman HL.
" filbidit HE.

i8 THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

58. ' He will be — his time will be short — '

Fifty years in this world :

A (Itagonstone from the sea will kiU turn '

la the fight at Senlabor.^

59. ' He will ask a drink from Loch L6,'

While he looks at the stream of blood.

The while host • will take him under a wheel' of cIOB

To the gathering where there is no sorrow.

to. 'Steadily then let Bran row.

Not far to the Land of Women,
Emne' with many hues* ofbospitality
Thou wilt reach before the setting of the sun.'

61. Thereupon Bran went from him. And be saw I
island. He rows round about it, and a laige host 1
gaping and laughing. They were all looking at Bn
and his people, but would not stay to converse with thl
They continued to give forth gusts ' of laughter at t
Bran sent one of his people on the island ;
himself with the others, and was gaping at them I
the other men of the island. He'" kept rowing im

* /.«. in eotpott (gloss).

* i.t. this u the * Detlh orManEan/ a Mcme from a tUng w
■I him (glon) ; i.t. a iIodb tX Uie fighl in Mongan'i ■donghold (giM

' Lf. ■ ilionghoid (cIum). SenUbur hu out Iwm iilcniificil.

* Not kdenltficd. * Lr. the angcli. ' i.t. In ■ chuÍoL
' CL Bole cm fl 19^

* The Iilih Je/i, ' colouf,' U tiftcn aitd in (he icnw of ' kitiiJ, aoti.'

* Irtftiii, iilcrivslivc iiam Ire/et, 'Uowlnj;.' Ct. tir/til i. iJittJi,
Hi td : fir Irtfiil a Una II. 3, iS, p. 51, uid (ce O'Div. p. I», t.*.

\ In Law* I. p. ia6, 5(cr. p. 144, 1) It mcani 'bellowi.'

IMRAM BRAIN

58. 'Bíed,* bes^ n-gaiiit a ree,"
cdicait" m-blédne* i m*bith ehee,"
oircthi * ail dracoin ' din * muir •"
Ísiad nfth i Seiilabiiir.'^'

59. 'Ttmgéta dig al-Loch Lau"!"
intan frÍsseiU " sidan " cráu,"^
géblha" in drong find fu roth nél
dund " Dassad, nad etarlén."

60. ■ Fossad airsin " imraad '* Dran,
Df chfan CO tfr inna ni-ban,
Emne co n-ildaih '* féle
ricfe ré fuiniud*" gréne.' "

Luidi'* Bran liad*" famm co n-acci** in n-insi. Im-

meraad" iramecilairi,^'' ocus slóg már''^ oc ginig^ ocus

rechtaig.™ Doecitís uili Bran ocus a muintir. ocus n!

itfe^ fria n-accaldaim. Adaigtís treftecha gáire impu.

Fdidis Bran fer dia muintir Ísin n-insi. Rcris'" lia céliu^

ocns adaiged"" ginig** fóu** amal** dóini^ inna hinse

* .i. ÍD coipore JfB .\. corpore £. >> .1. ts f Aided Mongáia clochán

(doch SJfS) awn labaíll roUid dó Jf£J/S. ' .i. diín JfB .1. dia dua

S.L oÍEcd Moulin add. E. « .\. post mortem RBE.

"* at R bidead ni bioíd H. ' bess B. ' cocuit R. * mbledna B
mUiedoB R. ' ce X. • oircti /fBI/ oitcte E oiiclhe L oircfid S.
Kain JT drocoin Z. * don //£ di L. * senlabnir XB scndlapair
" digaJloclaJbl!) Z illDch lo /I hilt^h lou í It^ ff. " ftÍseÍU
friicll S loseall //. " lisii S. " crou XS£ cto ff crua SL.
fflbátt L gebta HE. ■' sic RSL don H do BE. " edirlen R
rko S. " airsan X ieraán I/ irsan L. '" imiam fíS. '» Udach
L fuÍDead R fuine B iaiaeJA H fuinigh E. ^ ngr^ne
• lU H loide RB loid SEL. " hood RB. ** conaacw
L. " sií H imiaad RBSB imrood L. " immecuaid
Íiaeuwtd S. " mor J/£. " síc R accienid H giggnig E
S. " pucchlflig R. " líí L anlais ^£ fanliis B. " rtr.iis
" lea chcloa í/í. " atdagal RB ndBghat B adagail í ataghuid
•dscht L. '* iie R BÍEni BB gignid í ginc £. * foo ÍÍJK
«root //, " ndoini A' ndoinc £■.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

about the island. ^Vhencvc^ his man came past Bran, I
comrades would addreiis him. But he would not conrt
with them, but would only look at them' and gape at ti
The name of this island is the Island of Joy. Ther
ibey left him there.

62. It was not long thereafter when they reached I
Land of Women, They saw the leader of the women É
the port Said the chief of the women : ' Come hither ^
land, O Bran son of Febal I Welcome is thy advent
Bran did not venture to go on shore. The woman thro
a bail of thread to Bran straight over bis face. Bran [
his hand on the ball, which clave to his palm. The thread j
ihc bail was in the woman's hand, and she pulled the con
towards the port. Thereupon they went into a large hoi
in which was a bed for every couple,* even thrice nine b
The food that was put on every dish vanished not f
them. It seemed a year to them that, ihcy were there,-
chanced ' to be many years. No savour was wanting 1
them.*

' liimoier, «ilopting the coirupl reading of S (na laná íiutea
nammá) tenden ; " tondem b1ickt« die inaea an.' No womi
been menlioned.

* Zimmet renden 'cheput,' But there ii no reuon for b
pailiculni.

* For Ihii lue of /cmaint = ' il really wu, ' cf. 1 1. Teile uL p^ 1

Kul li WH ibc kiaa a( l

Goinj{ bJ Uw c o n HJ* n y oT a agttla gallwrinj/

1.«. every uun foui») in his \aoA and dtinh ibc iMtc II
. comnuin inddcDl in Iruh tlorr^cUlliK-

IMRAM BRAIN 31

Immeraad ' in n-inis immeciSairt, Intan dotliéged

fier niuÍDtÍTe sech Bran, adglaitfs ^ a chocéli. Nlsnaic-

immorru, acht dusnéced ^ nammd * ocus

tiged ginig'^ fóu.^ Is ed^ ainm inna hinse so Inis

Funacabsat and (arum.

. NI bu chfan iarsin coráncatar lit inna '" m-ban, co

D-accatar braine" inna m-ban isin phurt. Asbert'- lóisech
inna m-ban ;i^ ' Tait ÍUe isa '* tir, a Brain maic Febail ! Is
fochen do thichtu.'"' NÍ lamir'* Bran techt'^ isa"* tir.
Dochuirethar in '" ben certlí do Braun'" tar a gnúis each
n-direch. Focheird" Bran a láim for** in certH. Lil-' in
cherile dia deroainn.** Bói snathe'^ inna certle hil-liim

Ea mná, consreng in curach'^'^ dochum^^ puirt.-* Lotir*"
im ^ hi tegdais '^ máir, ^ Arránic imde ceche '■'^
imne^ and .i. tri nói n-imdie. In praind dobreth
cech méis nlr'irchran^ dóib. Ba blédin'" donaiíis^'
b buitíi ** and. Ecroaing bátir ilblédni.'" Nístesbl
b «0 mlass.
imnuuaad S iniraad JiSE. " atglaitis fíS. ' ia Jífí tai £.
• dotnecail SBE doneciud i/ doneca Z. ' namna /". ' ginich X
ginaicb £ gictnid If gigned B ginach L. ' fou ff foo icl. ' om. S.
' »tt& £. "> sií RaíH Ína £BL. " brane B. " asmbert RBE,
uAltrl H. " úin-lxLn em. L inna mban 01«. E. '• isin RBHES.
lií B liaíA/a E. " Umair BEH. " toct S. ^ sic /f isin
tit R em. •* uraun B Bran R bt. cel. " foceird jP foceirt
rrU £ fuocertl fí. " ar XBSE. » lilU ff. *" dernund /i
RBEL dct/w S. '^ sic HS ÍDJinalli R insnalhe etl. * in
an. U. " andochomb RB andochum HSE, » poiH Rl/.
XC/loiotS. *■' atn, H. " leehdaiss ff£ lechdis Z. " moiir
** CDch l/ cccha BH gacha L. " lánamna UL lanamnic B
• nitercrach S. " blídhin L bl. R blia. í/bliadain B.
RB donarfiusa H donadbas L. =" biih R helA BE
H Va^k (?) U. " ilchcu lledhne 5 bliadna RBUHE.

3»

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

63. Home-siclcness seized one of them, even Nee
the son of Collbran.' His kindred kept ptaying Braa d
he should go to Ireland with him. The woman said|
them their going would make them rue. However, !
went, and the woman said that none of them should t
the land, and that they should visit and take with them 4
man whom they had left in the Island ofjoy.

64. Then they went until they arrived at a gathcnngfl
Srub Erain.^ The men asked of them who it was e
over the sea. Said Dran : ' I am Bran the son of Fd
saith he. However, the other saith : ' We do not know a

a one, though the Voyage of Bran is in our ancient sio

65. The man '■' leaps from them out of the coracle
soon as he touched the earth of Ireland, forthwith he ?
heap of ashes, as though he had been in the eanh for n
hundred years. Twas then that Bran sang this quatraiofl

' He WB» the heto of í liIc, the llilc of wliieh fieata ii
ugM in LL. p. 170 b lu Etilra Ntitain maii Aijrainn, Tliii tali
not now known to exist : it piobably conuined the v
nonalel.

* O'Curry, MS. Mat. p. 477, nole (5, uiyi that there «1
of ihiinAmc — oDc in Ihe veil of Kerry, llie other, now called S
or Shruve Brin, al the entrance to Lough Foyle, a lÍttU V.
InUhowco Head. As ibe ancient Iritfa inwciiKii Mite McU to III
the Mjulh or aoulh-weal of Ireland (kc Stoke*, Rev. Celt. I
it lecmt naiutnl tliat Bran contin); from there ihould arrivi
in Kerry. Othcrwuc, from Itnn'i cooncclion with Loogtt I
fo called (ram his father Febal, the latin place migfal foeto |i
meant- Sec ill dindtcDUha» in Re*. Celt. x*. p- 450, when S
Uiuc ii laid lo mean * Kavcn'i Sricaai.' Slokn ihioki that ihii %
Brain ii (he place in Uonecal : bol, c^ntldcrioj; thai nambcrt 50 |c
ol tht Rennet Dindscnchat all rcfcx to place* In Kerry, I bellcfK J
Wc»i Kcny place ii meant

* Tii. HechUn mu CuUUub.

IMRAM BRAIN

I 63. Gabais éulchaire' íer^ n-díib^ .i. Nechtán mac Coll-
Aitched ^ a chendl fri Bran aratiasad ^ leis dochom
B-Éienn. Asbert in ben robad aithrech ind íáboll/ Dolo-
tar* cammce, ecus asbert in ben arnátuinsed'* nech dfib^'' a'^
tir ocus arataidlitts leu ''^ in fer fodnácaibsct^' i n-Inis Subai'*
tor east i* a chéli.

(Í4. DoUotar fanim condatornachiatar '" in dáil i Sruib
Brain." larmifóchtatar " side dóib cía'" dolluide^" a^'
muir. Asbetl*' in fer:*' 'Messe,' ar sé,^* 'Bran mac
Febail.' 'NÍ beram^' aichni'"' innf" sin,' ol a chéle^*
didiu.'"' 'Atá* hi senchasaib linni chene" Imram
Brain.'

65, Dochurethar dadib^* in ferassin'^churuch,'* Amal
mránic'' side'* fri talmain''' inna"* Hérenn, bdliSailhred^'
_ )chétótr amal"bíd i talmain" nobeth tríasna hilchéta*"
blledne.*' Is and cacbain Bran in rand so : "

' lie K eúlciuie U. * neach H. • sie í/ndib RS. * Ollbmin //
1 B Al(«)bruind L. ' atchiJ U. ' tin U lisa E tisírf S.
Iiyiaballjfabflll ^^^/.fabuld^. «dalolarC; » tuidccd
Ú B luiscd S. '" dlb MSS. " i BE. " om. H. " fonacolis.ii
ffnifacaiUel /IBSEN. " oamell £/ no nn mell add. RBH inii
^ S. " i:0t(nalúiiiach(alar R fontoniachtatar UctsoM-
r S eonatoroBcadut B fowlolortachiatar H. " Briuin S.

* tonwGicbtaUi V iannofoachlalor H vna add. RBH. " cidh E.

* lb R doUuid U dolaid S. "■ in RUBSHE iarsin Z. " asber
RBB ispir H. » Bran UL. » orse U om. R. » béram U-
■ akhoc R achni U aithcae B áidiu add. BH. " anf K " chtli
VúitXw RB. •» diobh E dih!u O dihiu R didhu L dhiu B o!-ciidiu
Bm. ff. X la S. " em. SHE cheiue .5 chena JPK " bnadaib A'
oadha E. ■ ixin ff. " chauraeh R. " ionranaic R condrinic C
' siotn // sim Z. " talmannaib K " na f. " luiihrad Í luilhted
R ■ w A " Ulom U Ulan» Z. " hUeetaib UES. *» blia. t/.
pMt. ££.

34 THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

' For Collbran's son great was the folly
To lift his hand against ngc.
Without any one casting a wave of pure w)ier '
Over Nechian, Collbran's son."

66. Thereupon, to the people of the gatheriog Bran li
all his wanderings from the beginning until that time,
be wrote these quatrains in Ogam, and then bade t
EarewelL And from that hour his wanderings are i
knowD.

IMRAM BRAIN 35

'Do' mace ChollbraÍn*bamór báiss'
turcbáil* a lame fri áiss,
cen* ncch dobir* toind usci glain
for Nechtáo for' mac Collbrain.'*

66. Adfét iarsin * Bran '" a imthechta uli 6 thossuch '^
cotid sin " do luchl ind airechtais,'' ocus scribais inna
rundu '* so tré ogum. Ocus celebrais dóib íarsin,^^ ocus nl
fessa " 3 imthechta ónd úait sin.^'

' Ji omili ikt qualrain. ' Alabntind L OUurain £. ' is baiss L
m6i. m. U. * tói^d U Xitpii L Xoghail E. ' enn U. ■ douejr B
dotntnd C^dorBiid L dotad £. ^ am. UBE. ' Alxbnun L OUuhrnfH
e. ' em. R done BE dLA« H. " cm. RBHE. " oiosach uili H.
" am. RH codere B codir [nV] E. " do— nirechtaia em. RBHE.
" rundnQÍ/runda^. "■Kaium.R. "IcsRBE. " nifessoanuairsin
■llee cuuaniu BoEriDd. Finit, H a imtechta otsin. Finct do Uhrim £.

NOTES

I. atlrii ingnaih. This cnrloui ute of what n, apparcnllf, 1
nndcdined kdjcctjve after the aoun U alw lamia in the phrai
ilr, i8. Sec Windiscb, s.v, tir.

lb., ftr iitir. The old ilalive rorm Idur is foumi in ^alone, \
all Ihe other Mss. have Ih« talM form lár. Similarly, in g a J?, ■
in f 63, B alone have prtierved the dative foim Bratm,

ib., rtbálar iad liii dánlai. The pliml of the word jSm/| '
geneially meant eilhei the space enclosed by earthen ramparti, otfl
buildings in the centre of the enclosure, seems here to be used of B
ramparts themsclve). That this may hate been the ori^nal me*
the analogy of It. ráilh and Teutonic lún seems to show.

3. ar a bindi, I do not know what 10 make of the for
bindim which most of the Mss. have.

ib., tsin. Most of the Mis. leave out this Old Irish form.

ib., caekain.. None of the MM. have ptctcrrcd the Old Itlafa f

3. Thij quatrain is composed in the metre called roHntifttiU t4
iiuiaid re^emarcatk tThurneysen, Mitiitir. i'm/iirtn.
There is ÍDtental assonance iu Emain : lamail, fara .- ^am«.

ib., ahaiU. ll ii possible that abaiU is the older form i at least d
may be concluded from abialt, the ipelting of E, and afuilit, tbat oil
An Old Ir. aiald woold a^rec «tell with (he A.S. aftiur.

lb., Jn/iJ. This t lake to be the ist áne. of the present India
oiJa/ediiH, ' I brine,' *» te-vJ-i.

ib., gbtnt. Here and in II \triM glatuf) B alone preserret thli d
tarm, the genitive ting, of the i-stem [(aim, Otho Itss. write
•) If it «etc the nom. plar. oiglati, ' pore.'

4. This and all Ihe lbllo«io[! qoauain* are composed In v
kinds of áMái. There an two ewinplw uf Midt garit In j

NOTiES

bal the slrittcr laws oí poetical composition, as fonnuUted in the eirm
iarJ cana iariiiu iThanteysKO, A/iílílÍr. Venl.) und by O'MoUoy, «re
not coosblcntly observed in this old pottiy. The role, t.g., thai the
final woidi of the seconil and (builh lines shonld exceed those of the
iint and third b; one syllable, Is not cairied through. A hiltui i«
alloiced to stand «here, accoidiog lo O'Motloy'i rule (Thutneysen, I.e.,
p. 117), synizesis should lake place, e.g., asa lailni \ in nit find, 24, or
wt/\ im' tkarput ái ck/i», 33, cic Again, there are many lines in which
slliletalion is entirely wanting. This ludimcotary character of the
poetry seems to speak for its age.

ib., ffibra rein. The 'kenning' gtoig mit Lir referred lo on p, 4,
note 5, also occurs in a quatrain quoted in H. 3. iS, p. t\ '. culliai .■'.
llaitA, ui dixit in file :

gtvitlh ]y!£,groig\ mic Lir iar Inch fo\h\vaiá'

1b.,Uihgtllendia. The adjective attribute is put before Ihe noun,
u in UmiU m-tr€ie m-han, ig,

lU, ttiheóir teiia. The old leToininc form lakioir being no longet
lued ot understood, the uss., with two exceptions {HB\, have either
I miirrad or nlleicd ii. As to the four feet en which Ihe isUnd rests, cf.
'The Voyage of Mael Duin,' Rev. Cell. i. p. 63, as tranalaied by
I Stokes : ' Then Ihey see another island (standing) on a single pedestal,
one fool supporting it. And they rowed round il to seek a way
I into it, and ihey found no way ihereinio ; bul they saw down in the
« of the pedestal a closed door under lock. They underatood that
\ tíal was the way by which the island was entered.'

5. findarggia. The use of Ihe andeclined form is curious. In 8,
\ Arggainiu! ilands in apposition lo Ihe dative maig.

6. findrmti. It is possible \hufiti>i6niint {B) is Ihe older form.

7. In the description of Mag Meld in Sergligt Conailaind (Ir. Texle,
f p. 118] a similar quatrain occur) wilhoat reference to the Hours.

' Alál or in doru> lair
Irl bilt do ihi/rtetgliiiii .
dia tt-gairin tnlailh iúan bliitk
dun matraid anin rigrdilk. '

3« THE VOYAGE OF BEAN

8, daihe. Here, and in 13, B alone proerves this old forei of I
gen. Eg. of the u-slem dalh.

ib., miilhgrtlho. Most of the Mss. have maitfr /n/il«-
having arisen from confusing the maik of nipírstion «vet the firtt ( I
the horiionial stroke used n a compendium íottr. It aod S I
preserved the final e.

9, étíÍHÍuá. Perhaps iiéitu (B, M) is the right rending.
ib., tlargnalh rhTming with mra/k shows thai through lo« of d

fnatk hat become short. Cumpaie such rhymes u Ian: trC '
Salt, 1456-

ib., iti i/i nack gar^ fri truais. I have no doubt that ciWr, <
the MSS. itandi tor cnlaii, just lU iV<)iV. rlatii in the oest line !• H
tllSeii; fa evidently was the ipeJling of the archetjrpm fbi the n
usual úa : cf. «or, dareasat, »aJ, land, etc, infra. Z, teailing Hi M
monosyllable, inserts gtttk la make up the seven syllables.

II. /la. H; rendering is taken from O'Reilly yfii tfotfiadi}), 1
very doubtful. rnhsps/Ia is cognate wilh W, gTny, and m

ib.. Hi frilhid bid a da. The same phrase occurs in LU. 64 ft, i
nlfrilkid tid mint tm .i. nl inund etui in da goMil, "This b n
tame as carrying (Ut. taking) birds,' says Medb, referring I>
in which Lieg carries the head of an enemy on his back. A
ify, meaninK ' haw ' or perhaps ' hue,' cf. O'Cl. dtann cfidMrnmhuK^
II ni tÍQ amhaii thía btallaiite.

11, trilnglam». Cf. the note ati giant, 3.

13. ^allut, if 1 read rightly, seems the gen, of /-laik, the opf
iaih .1, ttar^, 'dryness, decay, consumption,' O'Cl. and P. O'C

iXi., fine Hngrindi. The genitive atlritrale it put bcfurctbcat
in di bttka briu, 19. flni /trifitud, 43. See Rev, CelL v. JSO-Ji.

tj. In the description of Ms£ Meld quoted above from S
CtHinlaind t, úmilor quatrain occurs ;

' AUI ar in datmi liar
iimd dit ki/aMtndfrien
P^'l "'g'*^ '•-gla'\ brtt a meng,
ii araiU ttrtordeiul.'

ib., uaianm. 1 have token this to be a aistet-fonn of ttaad, '
Cf. mtmun and Smtm, ' tcai.' Bat it might be a word coffulM i
maJati, 'burden.'

16. di^riik. Thi) tecnu cogoatc wilh defakk, 'ivit' (Wind. |

NOTES

Vd {d^eid\, ' wnll,' Trip. Life, p. 72, 16, and táidim, ' I come,'

I, Index. L changes to áefaeth, 'will full.'
117. dtndlicc littr, AnoUiei such musical stone is mentioned in the
pUawing lines from Tagail Bmidnt Da Oht^ (H. 3. 18, p. 711):

* do (kimfan trida ii ftu mdin,
Htiniliir lie LoiÁa Láig'
'iby limpa» otbronxe. it is worth a treasure,
more mclcxlious than the stone of Loch Lálg.'

[ 19. bisu. This form occnts twice in the Wu»bu^ glosses, 6 b, 33 :
'im dagdmititt 'who may be a good man/ ib. 24 : ti/m mailh. It
oukl be cotnpareil with c/tw, 'although il be," and seems to be made
p of the jnl pers. sing, injunctive of bla, with an unexplained prO'
minal sulSx -im.
[ 30k amuk, if I read rightly, may be cognate with esnad, 'music,
1' which is sometimes used of the notes or cries of animals, as,
:,tnud daim, "the bellowing of the slag."
:. tacA ági. Though this is the reading of none of the mss>, R
lecoming ncai it, ;ct it seems tome highly probable, ágt, 'period,'
w. io-stem : cf. LU. 134 b, 13: tank dt itit ifgt hfiiii.
i. This is a »i!ry doubtful reading, based upon the aÍIUr

I 24. Í n-adig. This old spelling of adaig, preserved by S and E,

d £ to alter inln ina tig = moá. ina dligk.
k as. dlii. Though none of the Mss. offers il, this old dissyllabic
n is demanded hy the metre, just as in Salt. 375 : samlaim itch 1^1]/'
%fiUi. Cf. Sail. 437.

I sS. Jindekridi. The spelling of the archetypus was no doubt
mchfidt, which moil of the uss. retain.
I 99. (Jir iilio bfiu. The only one among the many meanings of 6rá
IS to fit here is one given by O'Clery, .(. iamad.
in charput iarsiit miiir. Thus in Srrgligi Conculaind (Ir.
e, p. 225) Manannán comes in 11 chariot across the sea :
■ AlehtH dar in mair illi—
niitaani Haih mrraigi^
manaiA in mara nimgaig.
nlltnaad da lilklengaii.'

I tbh, tngipud mai tiad. Sec Compeil MongiÍD, printed infra, p, 42.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

3;, leHitderga. L renda an fma, a good example of iha 1
tkllcraliuTu of this vcniuD.

41. iimÍH. Cr. lh<! spelling áÍmÍH, Guid. p. zo, 1 1.
4j. JiáíJU IB n-irdalk. CI. the bllowiag qualrain in the dacri|
of Mkg Meld quoled above :

' MM cnaJ i n-Jtmi /in.
Hi i/lif eeeitut frits,
crand airpt riilAtin gHaU,
caimail fri Air a reoiam.'

4S. dcrtanlaittl tcciDi corrupt. It does not ihjme «itb ^fitvi-
I have Iruislatcd it as if it were darilasal with Uic pronoun of ibe IH
pen. plunl (-rO infiicd.

49. IttiUa>M. CÍ. caniúdtíFinJ Mm Cumaill A/medn.lAJ. t33É.,
35. This Mnstruclion remioiU one of b rimila) one in Anglo-Suon.

50. Maninndtt. A hypocoriitic form of Monannin, táso fbaad to
LU. 133 a. 14. Cf. MooiuiD. 51.

i\t.,ieurf triad gil. Cf. LU. iS, 21: Ifíti -j Énic inargrfttilirt
ttiraÍHglÍb mines Ll~ 180 >> Jl. — A, reading iriaJu a moaoijrlli
alters gil into aJ-gil lo make a\> ibc uvcd sylUtiles.

51. cndii. Tills old form, the 3id siiig. uf the t-futuie offi
mil DO longei undentnoj by the gloisalor. Fiom out pAuage fl
wotd with the gloB gut iiiioComiBf's (ilouuy (Tt«nsl, p. 49).

iK, maccti. None uf the Msa. have prcKrred this Old Ir. '
which seems to have liecome otisuUie very cailf.

lb., Urn. The h is berca merely graphic addition to luve 00a
■Bonance for the rye.

ib., adiidiiima, yu Eg. of the icd. falure of ed-Jamim, wUh Infix
pronoun. Cf. atumdidma, 'Tliuu wilt uknowtcdge me,' VÍX. E{d
494-

5]. aJfii, 3rd %. of the *-future of adfladaim. CÍ. adfias\i)^f '
thailreliilo.'Sall. 178S,

JJ. nA'r, Jrd (g. ufthc s-fatureofi/ijTm.

56. I have not been aUe lo retlors ihii qnatiain, which hu b«eii
handed down in a vcrf eomipt form in all KSt. Most of Umb leave
out hid'xsi the Grtt line, which may be right.

'Ai., fefkiiktr airtiend a lit. Stokn Ihinkx ibal airxiemj here =
W. arttHM, ' B chieftain.' Tht iniubtion would then tw, ' I shall Mod
tditefUin ogt of lalay,' which wouki ttia 10 Atttu Mac Dicc^

NOTES

Tbis I lake to be the 1st ^. of the ltd. talTitt ot
Ixed pron. of the Jid penon.

Irii. At to Jvi with folloirtng t«I*iiTe ■, cf. MI.
■J n-daíiraíitaeÁ .i. dmart^ir-iem i*t^ m-JttlhrúíAMig d

. Tbis ie«DU the 3td %. pies. iai. of «inim with affixed
l1 itftiooun.

59. l^fk Liu. Id the gtiMsed copf ofCmaedhlíahATtacáÍD's poem
b^inning Fianna háíar i n-Emain (Eg. 1782, fo. 53 a. 2) I (iod the
foUnwiflg elo» on the line mentionioe Moogan's death (lec above, p.
36, n«te J) : M fian Chind-Tiii tvmari MengBn er brd Lot>ia Lú q6
LaiMa Itauii IJUeníiíi). A Locb L<^ is also rcpeateilly rocntioDed in
r>^/ SrviOmt Di data.

ih. , g/MMa. This looks like the 3td sg. of the ted. fultire of gaUm
IfAnf) «uh on affixed petsonal pTotianD.

'1. ««■ gi-ig. Most of Ihr HSS. ha*e gignig, which is obscure 10
GiMÍg seenu ihc dat. fern, of a word gauii, a derivative ol gi»,
ItHk'

This Kemi the Jid sg. ot the s-pret. of a verb «rfm,

4 Eg; reL of the ptes. Inil of which occurs in LU. tjj a, to:

If ta(A diarailut, ' When one army is diawa up (ranged)

It Ibt othtr.'

. /uliAairt. Though this word sometimes has the general sense of

,' as in Echtta Condlo, 4 (gaiaii eeUkairt {arem imii Condta

tnáá aítionnitirc) it ieems originally to have denoted ' longiing

V home-aickneis ' i from A)/, ' home,' and -tturi = V/. •iiiredii.

o thii meaning of fyl, ef. the (ollowitig gloss from tinil. 52S0, lo.

• SaKii foa ttalpH amfer
largBck lir to n-ijar gland,'

« Rev. C. xiii p. 2. In LL. 170 b, 30, for riu icol (ead tea ml,
1 home,' as in BB. 403, 45. dia eol, ib. 403 a, a.
tin lutA d^ir hind usti glain. The line has one syllable in
. Peihaps di/ral, • who gave,' is a betler reading than di/iir, ' who

APPENDIX

Compcrt Mongiin.'

Bdi Ffachnx Lui^ athair MoD^jin, bo h^enrf In cl
BAi cara leis* i n-Albain .i. Aed.ín mac Gabrjin.
úad'-sidc CO hAedan, dodechas ó Aed^n* co Ffachn^rxi

J dia chobair. iiói i D-Ímnissiu fri Saxanu.* Dobr«lh I
úathmat la suidiu du bás"* Áedáin isÍD chath. Luid didj
Ffachnw" tains, Fácaib a rigni" i fuss. Intan bátir"
álúaig i n-AÍbe'* i n-ÍmnÍssÍQ, doluid'* fct dcliglhe'* fo
maái ina dún " í Ráith Móir Maige Line. N[ bdt socfaid

loisin dim a n-doluid- Asberl fric" airm ir«sa.'"

ben * n[ bói isin bith di sítaib ní má'tnib ara n-dénad *>
bed" mebul d' inchaib n cíli. Aaberi side» frie"
dénnd" do chobaii anma a c^li. Asberl s( má atcetb*^
n-i{<>ais nl bad deeming,*' a chobair" dí di * neoch I

i; chum.icht.* Asbert side'' datgnC* didiu,"" 'ar ati do cU

MSS.! £7=LU. p. t33a(fiaKRt«nl);//=II. 3. l6, pp.911
«8.PS55Í A'=2j.N.lR.I.A.).fi>.63-(l4( £=>Ée.SS
' MoGgain £. * i coiccii/ £. ' Icicuni >l. * i
* ooidhe E. * CO hAcdin — A AeiUa 0«. iV£4. ' oraified i
■.Sautunait.S<uriMcfiH E. > tic ff militi tmlUJy.i
J/. " IJiirao oM. H. •^ tit m tiflun Í. " 1«
t/m llfM f. " dolluld » laid i. " uaile feu
anunou A. " Ttia SAE, " hima // ainn hircau aaptrt fi
» l>cl[i Jf. " di>Giu £. " faul A' liud i. * n iV «an J
»• frin ^£i. ■ dÍBfna í- ■ malcclh» i".
badccmoins //i bttdecnuic £. ' iff V cobalt «C. * do /UL
maiiit £ etuauuA/ A. *> Min.S m V//. " doEoe f dOMJId
tfiUpUfM "UaiMi. '

..isKi

APPENDIX

n-gúais máir.' Tucad fer úathmar ar a chend' nad forsa-
batar," oeus aib^a lcis. Dla n-dernam' mád tú* caratrad,
bírse mac o-de." Bíd amre in mac sin/ b(d Mongán* dano.'
R^a-sa'" dun ctiaih firfidir" ÍmMrach ■* Ím Ihcirt, ara
(ccub-sa,ocusfes-sa"ia mflid" ar bélaib fer n-AJban, Ocus 5
fnt' cbéli-siu ar n-imihechta,'" ocus as tussu ramfóidi"
dla cbobair.'

Dognfth" samlaid.'" Inlan reras*" in calh diarailiu, co n-
accauir nl inl ^lúaig, in fer sainigthc ar béolo catho^ Aedáin
ocus Ffacbnai. Dolluid dochum Ffachnai inUainredach, ocus lo
asberl (ríss accaldaim ■' a mná al-li rfain, ocus donindgell dia
chobair isind líair sin. Luid farom résin cath dochum alaili,
ocus fich *^ in mflid,"* ocus memuid Ín eath rfa'^ n-Áedán ocus
F(achna.

Ocus dointói^ Ffachna dla chrích, ocus bá torrach io ben 15
octis bcrl mac .i. Mongán mac Ftachnai. Ocus ailugestar" a
céle*" a n-dogéni friss, ocits addámir s[ a imthechta uli. Conid
mac do Manannán " mac Lir intí Mongán, césu Mongitn muc
Ffachnai dogarar^ dé. Ar" forácaib^ rand Ha máthair al-
lude úadi matin, a n-asbeit : ^ 3o
'Tiag áum' daim.
dosfi!" in matin m-binglain :"
issé Monindán" mac Lir
aimn ind firdonjl&rUii.'''
* mlr t/ moir E. ' chind HA/fE. ' fnfiabBlár P fofsnbalhar
dime £. ' m»lu JíAE. ' de K ' niw. £W. " Fiithnn
Tff Mo^an £!f. ' diiAu ff donni A dna (.i. dana) A' ami E.
nghau E lagidsa *. " lirfilhir tí frrfailhiV E. " amnirsfi
Ímbuainch i. '' feisa HEN. '* .1000. E. " islwf- E.
Iriidd E. " aiomíaoi E. ■* d<^nilhi H. i" snnilniih N em.
■ rerusi h. " chilha H. "» accildara H. =» fichtí E.
KMO. E. » re /T. « doinlii í/doinnto /f doindtó i doinntoi N.
■Ilulgcitair H nltaigniliir E. " céli U. ^ Mmindm A'. ** do-
If fttgoJrlíT E, "' uair h. " forfaraib HE rofhagaiph N ro.
l. " anajmpírt £■. " jíí A dnfail W » nV A'A£ bánglain £W.
iC rií í/ Minannan HNBh. " dutirlid [/ dularlnid cerrecttd into
rloid H dotatrlc B doddulhaiilid N doniiartit h.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

Then FÍaclina v.

While the hosts wer

10 man went to his wife ir

linny. At the time he ■

hold. He asked the v

The woman said there

The Conception of Mongán.

Fiachtta Lurga, the father of Mongán, was sole Viog of ti
province' lie had a friend in Scotland, to wit, Aeilin,' ihe
son of Gabrin. A message went from him to Aedáo. A
message went from Acdán to him that he would come to hii
aid. He was in warfare against Saxons.' A terrible warrior
was brought by them for the death of Aedán in the battle.
ass. He left his queen at home.
: lighiing in Scotland, a noble-looking
his stronghold in Kathmore of Moy-
vent there were not many in the Strang-
Oman to arrange a place of meeting,
were not in the world possessions or
es, for which she would do anything to disgrace her hoi-
ij band's honour. He asked her whether she would do ii to save
her husband's life. She said that if she were to see him in
danger and difficulty,* she would help him with all that lay in
her might.* He said she should do it then,' 'for thy husband
is in great danger. A terrible man has been brought against
20 liim on whom they cannot . . ., and he will die by his hand.
If we, I and thou, make love, thou wilt bear a son thereof.
That son will be famous; he will be Mgng.in. I shall go to the
battle which will be fought to-morrow at the third hour, so that
1 shall save him, and I shall vanquish ' the warrior before the

' A% luch he u enuniciiteit in Ihe list of the kingi of UUtci in LL.
p. 41 c ■ King of the Scotch Diliimda {574-606).

* As to Aedán'i nut with the Suoas, >ee Reeva' AJioini*m, p. jfi,
B&d Bcde, //iii. E«l. i. 34.

* Lit. ' if he «eic to see in danger Boyiliing that were dlScoU.'

* LiL *wiih snylbing she were ihlc.'

* I Ttud dagrti, 3rd %. of the pieieni tobjunetlfe with lafixed

'/«, IM tc. of the s-fui. vifitkim, Lai. írimeú. C£
mfifa, LL. 1S8 b, 6.

APPENDIX

eyes of the men of Scotland. And 1 shall tell thy husband our
adventures, and ihat il is ihou that hast sent me to his help.'

Il was done thus. When array was drawn up against anny,
the hosts saw something^a noble-looking man before the
army of Aedán and Fjachna. He went towards Fiachna in 5
particular, and lold him the conversation with his wife the day
before, and ihai be had promised to come to his help at thai
flour. Thereupon he went before the army towards the other,
and vanquished ihe soldier. And the battle was routed before
Aedán and Fiachna. 10

And Fiachna returned to his country. And the woman was
pregnant and bore a son, even Mong.in son of Fiachna. And
he thanked his wife for what she had done for him, and she
confessed all her adventures. So that this Mongdn is a son
tí Manannán mac Lir, though he is called Mongán son of ij
Fiachna. For when he went from her in the morning he left
a quatrain with Mongán's mother, saying :
' I go borne.'

Tbe pale pure morning draws near : >
Monlnnán son of Ler 30

Is tbe name of him wbo came la thee.'

I take daim to stand for Joim, dul. ^. oldtm. f. =Lat. dumni (gen.
naJamt, Rev. C.xiv. p. 454, I. 15). Or shonid we compare diadaim
,i Jia Jteia, which occtus in Tochmarc Emiie, Rev. C. xi. p. 444,
t. 38: /Mid Cdihuiind dia daim huadaib, 'C. went of his (own) will 25
from them ' i
* As to the eonslruction ofrfgi/wilh following ace, see Glossary.

II
Seel asa m-berar' co m-bad hi Find mac Cumaill Mongán,'
ocus anf dIa lil aided Foihaid Airgdig a scéP so sis.
Bói Mongán hi Ráith Miiir Maige Lini ina rigu.* DoUuid 30
MSS. Í U=U3. 133»! B = B«tliam 145. p. 64; ff=\i. 1. 16.
col. 013; £ = I!:geitonS8, fo. 15 h, I. —No heading in £'.
' uaoabnir S aáhír H. ' Mo^^n Finn xaae Cumaild B. * ocus
fl om. Bff. * r( dou (I) £ li du (•) B.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

Forgoll Rli a dochum. llói leis for ctii ■ ilar linomn» a-áó,*
Inf^ded in fili icé\ cacha aidche do Mongdn. Ba si * achomsoa; *
a m-both samlaid 6 samuio co béltaine. Seóil ocns blad bo
MonBÍo.

S ImchomarchuirMongán a filid laan-and' da baidcd Fothaid
Airgdig. Asbert Forgoll giile i n-Dublhair Lagen. Asbert
MoDg'ln ba go. Asbert in 61i nodDairfed" diaáithgiud,' ociu
no-:Érfad a aihair ocus a mdihair ocus a icnathair, ocus do-
chechnad for a n-usciu connílgébtha iasc Ína n^-inberaib. Do-

lo chechnad for a fedaib connáiibeitais torad, for a maige comtfs
ambrili chaidchi* cacha clainde. Dofarcaid'" Mongán a tiit
do " di i^taib coiici secht cumala, ná dá iecht cuniala,'* d6 irí "
sccht cumala." Torgid'* asennad" Irian no leth a feraind, n<l
a ferand 6g, asennad*' acbt a súirí a óinur cona mnái Bréoihi-

iSgirnd, mani forsulcad" co cend Irisse. Atbobuid in fi!i uile
acht mad cussin mnái. Atdámuir'* MongAn fobiih a cnicb.'
Ba brónach in ben ioima risin." Nf gattad'' dét dia" gniaid.
Asbert Mongán frie** atnábad'* btúoach, bés'' dosnfsad

10 Tánic de cotici a*' tres laa. Gabais in fili dia nadmiin.*'
Asbert Mongán anad co fescor. Boi Mong^ ocus a ben tna
n^-gríanán. Cfid in ben intan ba nessam a hidnacul*° ocni
nád*'accai"a cobair.*' Asbert Mongán 'Dadbad**br(ÍDach,

' fotcoi S£. ' ndo» S. *si fl. • »
* la nood die hMJ E. * noaoirfnd B Donaet&il £H. ' ailhdund B
aithgeud ff «lihcheo S. * in* U£B \m II. ' lit U om, tet,
» IÍÍ BH doittiulil U dirarcaip E. " ndo BB. " «w. Bit.
".iiL ■( = !«>») ^. \^»m. » totieaJ Iri mAl ítnula £. » letcidh
diorcaid/f taiignff. "aicnnad t/ uiaiátúi B MCKaatd II. "■!««■
BtAt/ atvadnd SasesMtauíffttrniinS. '* lÍíVIfíctúoieii/Bbnítáoe
£. " «ddcmit B. " enech U. " immbireuan B immajalti S
ÍMmtnH»aUim*ttVLoff. " g&ta ^ gailai £. ' ii VB. •• (ria
Vff. " araab fíaxnthn B. ■> abcan B. ' cm. B. ■ nubwaiai if
^IoaBH. ' siiBuaAoaadllBB. ** mik B n
B aicd n tinv E. " cobfaiil B.

APPENDIX

a ben. Asx^ fer dothát indossa diar cobair,* adhaim* a
chossa III Labrinni.'*

Anit eiir. Cfch' in ben ailhiiruch. 'Ná cfi, a ben ! Ase*
fer doth^t diar cobair indosso, adhaim ' a chossa hi Main.' °

No-antts'etir"' in tucht sin etir each da tráth" isind Mu." 5
No-chtad si, asberad sium " beus : '* ' Ná cf,'^ a ben, fer dothíél
diar cobair indossa adbaim '"a chossa hi Lemutc, hi Loch LéJn,
hi Samáir*^ etir Ui" Fidgente'* ocus Aradu," hi Siuir'i ar
Femun Muman,*^ hi n-EcbuÍr,** hi m-Berbi," hi Rurthig-, hi m-
Bóind, hi Ntth, hi Tuattheisc," hi Snám Aignech, hi Nid,*' hi lo
Rig, hi D-Olarbi ar bélaib Rátba Móri.'

Intan duiinánic adaig, bói Mongin inna chétud inna ríg-
thig,*' ocus a ben for a desetud,'* ossf brónach. In fili
fúacru'" for a n-glinne" ocus a nadmand. Tráth m-
bátar and, adfógarar" fer dun" ráiih andess. A brat hi for- 15
cepul>* immi, ocus dfeheltir* inna láim nád bií erbecc."
Doling'^ fiissa*" crand siii^^ tama téora rátha co m-bói" for
Ur liss, di sudiu co m-bói for lár ind rigthige," di sudiu CO
r Mongán ocus fraigid frisind adart. In fih i n-farthui
ia tige" fri rfg aniar. Segair" in chest** isin tig fSad** ind 30
<klaig dundánic.*" 'Cid dathar'^sund?" olsude,*' 'Rogellaom,'
ol Mongán, 'ocus in fílí ucut im aidid Fothaid Airgthig. Asni-

* Me ff tsas B asso E. ' diaieobuii indosa íí££, " addaim B
«daim SS. * Laibrioniu B. » dich B3 áiúb S. * asoe S am £,
' «dhaim £ addaim J/ adúm £. ' Maoin E. ° siitais 1/BIÍ.
" fm. U. " elir each da irilh ioiochtsio U. " jiV B loo UH.
>* sit B a. n sam H. » uáeos A " cli.S. " adhaim ^ addaim //^
iot»aiitic)£. " Samiair A". '* hi//aa£'. " bfiginliá'fidgentiaií.

* M?.E. " Siui BE. " FemimQugi E. " hinechtuir B om. E.
" 1Ú Siuil— Bcrbi em. II. ■ Taurtesc ^. " hi Tuaitheiac— Nid em.
V, * ripbaig UB. * déicrud U deiscrutb B dcsrig H. " osl UJf.
•" oc aecnii 7 ocfuaera fl, " glindeu A " MloaitAat B. "^dind^.
** fafcípul B ffffribul Jf. ■ dichellar I/. » heibcc B irbec fí.

* loling K ■ (nan B. »• sidein B. " hi B. " riglhaige UB.

* Uige VJ/. *■ ieg-tar B. ** cWbi B «st J7. ** feid U fiado B.
P dud&nic V doDainaic B dundonic //■ " talhsi Bff. '^ sudiu I/.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

bairt' som is i n-Dublhor* Lagen. Asnibart-SA ba*
Asbcrl int liclach bá go doEid ' Ulid. 'Bid aiihlig,'*ol ForgoU,
'cillc" dano' dum JiihgciW.'* ' Nf baa son,' ol im óclacb.
' Proimfiihir. IUmar-nÍlat-sii,IaFind,'olintóclach. 'Aduurt!'»

5 ol MoDgán, 'nf maitb sin.' ' Bámar-ni la Find Ira,' ol aé.
' Dulodmar '" di " Albx. Immamacmai " fri Foihud " n-Airg-
thech bi sund accut for Ollorbi.'* Fichinunir'* scandal " n-and.
Fochait-so erchor fair co sech '^ trit, coliuid '^ hi talmain bin
anaUocusconfácaib'*aiamd*'hi'' talain. Issedandfchettir**

lo so robói isin gai sin. Fugébthat in móelcblocti dia rolaus-sa" a**
roud sin,'° ocus fogébthar a n-airiamn isin talmain,' ocus {og^b-
thar ulad" Fothaid Aitgtbig friss anair biuc," Atí comrmr"'
chlocbe inibi and hi talmain." Ataat a df foil" arctt ocus a dl
buone doat " ocus a muintoTC " argit for a chomrair. Oois ati

1 5 coirthe oc a ulaid.^' Ocus aiA ogom ** isin chind iil hi talmain "
dinchonbi. Usedfiland: 'Eochaid Air^hechinso. Ranibl"»
Cáílte i n-imaeriuc fri Find.'

Elbe» lasin n-óclaich, Arichl* samlaid ule."
Ciilte dalu Find dodánic." Ba he Find dano*) inU Mov

30«cliinád''léica"fomdisse.*'

> attubarl B//. * Dubth» Ji Duphlhiir S ililhrub [iv I] J

* tic B u U at Í/. ' dind B. • ailhUei // niilichi E.
f daw S di l/d6 B á\ I/. * útheeoid B nithchcod //althchM J

* ftljl BHF.. " doloKmat B. " do B- "
** Foihud f/FoUud H. " OllaifU B. ■* lichiminnt A

* »ciind*il B. " MDieiK Bit. " Mlluith B. "
■ haiiinni hiam B. " Íáa BI/. "* dieellir V dicheluif B^
•»roluia£/rulasa/f, '*uiH\aB. 'til/. "inUmW "»nl»liW
aulud B ola A. " lie B bic U Xie^ E em. B. • coranUf U&
eomniir B. * talani UE A. t lalnuun B. *> fai] iF. " doit B.
' manlarc HB. ** nutiiil B. * ogum H ogamb B ocham i
» UUm V\t.\Mm B. ' roniU Btt toWih i. » Ahe .L <J
«IIm // «ithca £. " anichl B. " ociu Ki6itha «tf.
.1. fofritha, aglcti #» oricbl). ** doMiiuuic B dadaink B da
"<II//<IÓA. «sa^nandM ** tm. BH. * rinli ai/. i7*t fL~
■uV. ^ b> lis duRe lad Vímtg^ X Find mv QoxmUI nkt na kfi *
bntdi [f^J R.

APPENDIX

I A Story from which it is inferred that Mongán was

Find mac Cumaill, and the cause of the

death of Fothad Airgdech.'

ID Ralhmore of Moylinny in his kingship. To
fcim went Forgol! the poel. Through him many a married S
Mjple was complaining to Mongdn.^ Every night the poel
a slory to Mongán. So great was his lore that

^^ey were thus from Halloween to May-day. He had gifts and
Ibod from Mongán.

One day Mongán asked his poet what was the death of lo
Fothad Airgdecb. ForgoU said he was slain at Duffry in
Lunsier.' Mongln said il was false. The poet said he would
satirise him with his lampoons, and he would satirise bis father
and his mother and his grandfather, and he would sing (spells)
upon their waters, so that fish should not be caught in their 15
river-mouths. He would sing upon their woods, so ibat they
should not give fruit, upon their plains, so that they should be
barren forever of any produce. Mongán promised him his will
of precious things as far as (the value of) seven bondmaids, or
twice seven bondmaids, or three times seven. At last he offers 30
him one-third, or one-half of his land, or his whole land ; at
last (anything) save only his own liberty with (that of) bis wife

p.Breólhigcrnd, unless he were redeemed before the end of three
lays. The poel refused all except as regards the woman. For
the sake of his honour Mongán consented. Thereat the 2$

' Fothad Aiigdech, also called Ocndé, was one of ihe thrm Fothnds,
Mlben, who reigncil loi;edler over Ireland for one year (a.d. 3S4) :
« IX. 34a, 39, 190 b, 10.

* ForgoU seems lo have been nn overbearing and exacting JiU of the
)tr«f AtbirociiDd Dalian Forgaill.

• In Ihe barony of Scaiawolsh, eo. Wciford. Foigoll's slatemeot
crhnps taas an a coofiisina of (his Lcinsler Diiblhai wiih another

'itlui In Dil AiilUc, iDvnlioDed in ^'ilva GaJtUca, i. p, 1 iS, 30. I

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

woman was sorrowful. The tear was not taken from 1
check. Mong.in told her not to be sorrowful, help would i
tainly come to them.
So it came to the third day. The poet bc^an to enforce hif

S bond Mongdn loM bim to wail till evening. He and his wife
were in their bower. The woman weeps as her sun coder drew
near and »he S4w no help. Mongán said : ' Be nut soirowful,
woman. He who tx even now coming to our help, I liear his feet
in the Labrinne."

to They wait a while Again the woman wept. ' Weep not,
woman I He who is now coming to our help, I hear his fc<t in
the Mdin.' •

Thus Ihcy were waiting between every two watches of the
day. She would weep, he would still say : 'Weep not, woman,

ij He who is now coming lo our help, 1 hear bis feet in the
Laune, in Lough Leane,' in the Moming-stnr River between
the di Kidgeiite and the Aiada,* in the Suir on Moy-fevin ^ in

' Acconling lo lleDneu)' (JubftLnvÍUc. Li CyiU Mytkaitgifut, p. 339)
the tJTcr Caragh, which llawi into Uiii^le Itiy. co. Kerry. O'Donovan,
who ^va B wioflg nominatÍTc, Labhnmn JnUcad of Lahiainne [F.H.,
A.M., 3751), sBiiposi-d ii to b« lliE Caihen in the oarlh uf co, Kmy;
hut Ihst would nol suit. CC tomaidm Meiice 7 Mann 7 Labralnne,
LL. 17 b, 45.

* Thii mail be the naniE of tome umll itrcun between the C _
anil (lie Ldune. ll cuinol be the Miine, the Iriih lunie of whieh-|j
Miiiigi %t:D. Maingc. If Miin standi fbi u older M6io, wa hivflkl
the [túh equlvklcnl of Ihe (iauUih Moinon, llie (jntnan Main,

* The great Lake of KilUmey.

* 'The Ui-Fidhgeinic and the Amdh» were Kslcd 11
county of Llaciick, and thett Icirilurici were divided fruoi each al
by the rlrct Alaigae and the hitcam now caWtA the Momiq
KJTcr.' 0*000. F.M., A.ti. 66ti, mile. .SanuUr hai been e
into Csniir, now Cawhnoir, which meani ' daybreak.' Itenoe A
|:ni;U.h name.

' A |i1ain in the prcMal batvny of I& and Olb Eul, 1
Stictmiiiian, Co. Tip]i«wy.

APPENDIX

5»

Munster.ÍB the Echuir.'in the BarroWitn the Liffey.'in Uie Boyne,
in ihe Dee,' in ihe Tuarthesc,* in Carlingford Lough, in the Nid,*

Klhe Newry river, in the Lame Water in front of Ralhmore.'
When night came to them, Mongán was on his couch in his
lace, and his wife at his right hand, and she sorrowful. The 5
et was suminoning them by their sureties and their bonds.
hile ihey were there, a man is announced approaching ihe
raOi from the south. His cloak was in a fold around him, and
in his hand a headless spear-shaft that was not very small. By
that shaft he leapt across the three ramparts, so that he was in lo
the middle of the garth, thence into the middle of the palace,
thence between Mongán and the wall at his pillow. The poet
was in the back of the house behind the king. The question is
areued in the house before the warrior that had come, "What
is the matter here?' said he. 'I and the poet yonder,' said IS
MoDgán, 'have made a wager about the death of Fothad
Airgdech. He said it was at Duffry in Leinster. I said that was
The warrior said ihe poet was wrong. ' It will be . . .,'
itid ForgoU, ' . . ." 'That were not good,' said the warrior.
'l shall be proved. We were with thee, with Find," said the ao
' Hush 1 ' said Mongán, 'that is not fair.' ' We were
with Find, then,' said he. 'We came from Scotland. We met
•ilh Folhad Airgthech here yonder on the Lame river. There
■re fought a battle. I made a cast at him, so that it passed

* Not identilicd. Ii should be in co. Kilkenny. One would expect
c Nore lo have bcun mentioned, which Cáilte had to ctou. Pedispi

n old name foi Ihe Nore.

* Ruinhecfa, for ro-rilhech, ' the strong running,' an old name for the
Badly spell Roirecb by O'Reilly.

Ih, DOW Ihe Dee in Ihe bar. of Aidee, co. Loath. Cf. Ibe

ame Ntth in Dumfries.

)l identiiied. Perhaps the Clyde or Fane In co. Louth.

* Not Identified. Some river or stream in co. Down. Cf. Nid-aari,
if a Pictish tribe in Galloway (Bedc, P'il. Culhli. c. xl), and

le Greek livcr-namc Nedn.

* 1 aAnot ttanilate this passage.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

through him and went into the earth beyond him .ind Icfi its
iron head in the earth. This here is the shaft (hat was in that
spear. The bare sione from which I made that cast will be
found, and the iron hcnd will be found in the canh, and the
J tomb of Foihad Airgdech will be found a little to the east of it
A stone chest is about him theic in the earth. There, upon
ihc chcit, are hi» two bracelets of silver, and his two arm-rings,
luid his neck'torque of silver. And by his tomb there is a
•tone pillar. And on the end of the pillar that is in the earth
to there is Ogam. This is what it says: "This is Eochaid
Airgdech. Ciilte slew me in an encounter against Find"'

They went with the warrior. Everything was found thus.
Il was CiiltCt Find's foster-son, (hat had come to them.
Mongin, however, was Find, though he would not lei it be told.

5 Scél Mongáín inso.'

D(a m-b^i dano' Forgoll lili la Mongan' fechi o-and,h
Mongán ar * dun trdth di Ido fechi n-and. Foric ^
ocmiinud a'aiciuchia.' Asbcn* Mongan °:

Ba V

ini,':ln iarom " dond éicsfnin b6i hi fola '* na lam
1 n-adbar" do," Asbcn fiiss dils im-bad " ditut

Mss.: 0=LU. 15411 ^=lielba4a 145. p. 66; af^U. a. 16,

coL 913Í A = H. 3- '8> P- SSS'>'

' tic U SccI do Kelaib Mone«n w /T. Do icMUb MogK*!» *nd «o

■ItA. /irtilltmS. ^ dina (/ daoft A <loi» S ^JÍM If. ' Haggn

i. *ÍorBtaJJ.fí. 'fotxicBÁ. *»m.B. ' aldplaA * wbeb

U aiiiM» B olrchciil k uccii U.
u idbv Bk. " áaaBnÍ&L

APPENDIX

ocus !m-bad> maith a ihairus,' conidtindgell'
'Airg didiu," ol Mongán, 'conrís Síth Lethet Oidni, co iuc;e
liic fil dom-sa and ocus dobera;*' pun findairgit duit fadéin, hi
fil di ungi díaa^ Rotbfa fonachl" oceo. It he do uide" de
sunde'" do Chnucc Bane. Forricfe tólte and fom'bfth-se hi 5
Sith Chnuicc. De sudiu do Dumu Gránerit." De sudiu do
Sfth Lethet Oidni. Dobéra; dam-sa in liic, ocus téis-si" do
snithair Lethet Oidni. Fogébai pun (Sir and, i m-bfat nói
n-uagi. Dambéra;" dam-sa let'

Lujd " in fer a fechtas. Dofornic lánamni " sainredaig ar a lo
chiund hi S(ih Chnuicc Bane. Fersait fáilti móir fri techtaire
Mongáin, Ba sf a dii. Luide.*' Fordnic" alaili hi n-Dumu
Gráneril. Bóilhi •* ind '" íxhe chétna. Luid " do Sflh Lethet
Oidni. Foranic" dano lanamnai" n-aili hi" sudiu. Fersait
fsÉlti muir fri muintir Mongáin. Ferthíe a íigidecht coléiri;
amal ** na baidchi " aili. Bái airecol n-amríe ** hi t<5ib thige '^
na linamnse. Asberl Mongan ftisseom aratimgarad a echuir.^
Dognfth samlaid. Dobrelh do a echuir." Atnoilc. Asbrelh
irias arnaiaibrethnCassin tig^achta foite"" leiss. Dagnf.'"
Dobert" in n-eochair aitherruch dund" lánamain. Dobert" 3C
immorro a Uic leiss" ocus a phún'" airgit.^ Luid farom do
srulhaii Lethet*' Oidni. Dobert" a phún" óir a sudiu.*^

' imba fi imbud í. * iháirosH ihuruiSihíitiaA. ' Jic5lingell f.
didAu Í/. ' dob/r B. ' dcacc A dec /f dx. S.
'.«».3 1/. ' huide U dcsiiuidiu 3. " luicdea £. " gninerid V.
:eid /M. " áomii/rx /ídamberi B dombeire i. '* luilí
H tftnamnai l/ lanamiiÍD BA. '* báal adú luide C/ iiaiíti
idi d Bduluid^Í S aduluide I/, " roindnic B. '^ boilbe B
UHh. " om. h. » luihi B. " foranec h fotianic Bll.
/nanamuÍD B laxamain h. " em. B. ** ami] B. " each
lchie h. " n-amra H amne UB amra h. " m Bh Ihaige UH.
VH echair k eochair B. " echair Hh eochair B. " em. U.
HBh laig U. " foiti BHMú Í. " dogni líBA. >* dobreath
JíB dun Udoa h. •* dobrelh /t, " ndó *, ■ sic B pún
■ aiuidiu adJ. 4. •" lethil HJi. " nV Btíh Aober U. *= su

\. " íi
ttt.

L^in P^ ('

a assuiiiu BB.

Dolluid' afriihi!
a Iiic* ocus
imtliechuii.*

■ loltuid B. * arídi^ k. ■ Ae B'Hlan^'a U/f.
S W • liCE H Ifg A. ' doberiiium k. ' ' ' '
Flnit AiDM B imibef^a. FiniL A

Now once upon a time when Forgoll the poet was with
MongJD, tbe Intter at a certitin hour of ihc day went before his
10 stronghold, where he found a bardic scholar' learning his
lesson.* Said Mongin :

■ AQ is Uslins
In a ctdolt ol taiJccloth ; i

c The mil of thy stuilin.'*

MongJn then took pity on the scholar, who was in (he cloak of
Mickcloth. He bad little of any tubstance. In order to know
whether he would be a truthful «nd good messenger,' be MÍd
to him, promising him . . . : 'Co now,' said Mongán, 'until

I i.t. one of ForgoH'i pupiU.

* Aieittiil, fium Lai. acaptum. reihnp* Ihii refers io the tract
«aJteii Umietpt na n-AiiiK, which formed ptn of the fin) frái't
ftudies of the aspiring poet. Six ThunuyKn, Atil/tlir, yiril.,p, ii^

* i.f. to A brginoct it (eemi as if he would never reach the cod ri
his ttudÍM. The cloak of uckdoib wat prubalily tbe prufcuional g
of the bardic itudcaL

* tdi. ' Ihou wlU reach acfordbe to pmpcf order the i

ldric*tm} conconine dnámmm.' The courw ul itady w» dividod
ÍModrÍUÁt Of portions (tec ThiirneyM'n, I.e., p. 115). AccnrJing to
ooeMUbotlty tUt course extended over 11 ycari, and in the last yew
oettúa metres were langbt, which were called drmimmm* otitta.
'height (lit ndge) of wiidoni.' (See Thurneyten, I.e., p.

' lit. whether Ul jounuy woold b< tratbfuj and good.

APPENDIX

Gra

ich the fairy knoll of Lethet Oidni,' and bring a precious
stone which I have there, and for thyself take a pound of
while silver, in which are twelve ounces. Thou shalt have
lieJp from them.^ This is thy journey" from here, lo Cnocc
Thou wilt find welcome in the fairy knoll of Cnocc ;
,ne for my sake. Thence to Duma Granerit.' Thence lo
le fairy knoll of Lethel Oidni. Take the stone for me, and go
ream of Lelhet Oidni, where thou wilt find a. pound of
which are nine ounces. Take that with Ihee for me.'
The man went on his journey. In the fairy knoll of Cnocc lo
le he found a noble-looking" couple to meet him. They
gave great welcome to n messenger of Mongin's. It was his
due. He went further. He found another couple in Duma
Grancrit, where he had the same welcome. He went to the
ry knoll of Lethet Oidni, where again he found another couple. 1 5
'hey gave great welcome lo a man of Mongán's. He was most
«pitably cnlcrlained, as on the other nights. There was a
.rvellous chamber' at the side of the couple's house. Mon-
gán had told him that he should ask for its key. He did so.^
The key was brought to him. He opens it. He had been told 20
not to take anything out of the house except what he had been
sent for. He does so. The key he gave back to the couple ;

I Not identified, so far as 1 know.

• i,t. from the people of the lit/, (he fairies.

re thy jOQTDcys, the slages of Ihy journey.
'The name of a hill situated in the plain of Magh-Lcamhna, other-
B called Cloisach, in Tyrone,' O'Don. F.M., a.d. hi, note. Cf.
le la Airgiallu, LL. 24 a, 8.
It ideaiified, so far as I know ; but see Trip. Life, p. 31 1.

i liL s)iecÍBl, seems sometimes, tike saia itself, to have
gof 'ipeeiftlly fine, distinguished, exeellenl, 'a? in jn«aíiÍiHí
licJia *of EÍngnlai beauty,' Ml. 37 b, 10. Or does it here mean
Qople,' i.e. separate, by themselves?

n., borrowed from Lat. eraculuin, has come to mean any
dhouteofone chamber; hete it is a Ireoisure-houie.
U it wu done so.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

his stone, howiver, and his pound of silver he look with hinu
Thereupon he went to the stream of Leihct Oidni, out of which
he look his pound of gold. He went back to KfonK^n, to wbc
he gave his stone and his gold. He himself takes his mM
5 These were bis wanderings.

Tucait Baile Mongáin ' inso,^

Eissistir * ben Mongdin* i, Findtigemd da Mongin
indissed df dii'iiti* a imthechta. Cáid side df miihissi
m-blíadan. Dognflh, Tánic de int ige hfsin." BSi dil n

lolafiru Hirend i n-Usniuch Midi" blfadún ^a Cfatáin • maic
inl sáir ocus gona Túatbail Mail Gairb ocus gabála rigi du "
Dtarmail. Biliir" inl sliiaig " for Usniuch." Dosfúabart"
cassar^ nK^r and. Ba sin'* a met, df prCmglais" déac
íoráccaib" ind óenfross"' i n-Ére* co bráth. Atrechl Mon-

15 gin mórfessiur din charnd for leith," ocus a tlgan ocus a
senchaid Cainhidc*" mac Marcáin, co n-aceatar° n(, in
less m-bilcch m-brotncch saínemail. Tlagait dú, conlo M|j|
isin less. TCagnii isin n-airecnl n-amr.i;" and. Tonnadi^H
crédumi forsin ' lajg. Gréoán " bóimind fot a sencstrechaibi^fl

30 Márfessiur tleligthe and. Tárgud antra isin laig di * cbolp ■
ihechaib " ocus brolhrachaib ocus di ifiaib ingantaib. Scchr
taulcbubi de fín and. Kertha f;clte frí Mongto" isin taig.
KM: í/.sLU. p. lJ4b,íf=H.3. l6,cuL9i4,/r=Bethnmi4S.p. 67.
' Mcoignn U. * Baiti MuDf^ H. * ,i. iaifaigii U. * Mungan t/.
*diult{/dIul.UA ■■igltinJ/^HhehÍMÍoA ' aot //. ■ Uinech
MÍdeA * aanaUttuiaJd. HB. " áo/ÍB. u ríe fí háut t//f.
"iaÚTOig//. " Vhneái //B. ** lií S tatliabut l/ doda^lain í/.
> caair & <* á HB. " priwEUÍM B. " Ibt&caib Hfí. " am-
frolM B. * Elriu B. "■ tú B Icth Utí. ' lucachud Cwtí<]e B.
^ tMiAfatalM B. ** naunhnetiBai/t. ° lemtoch^iaiMeb //. "Um
Bt * £n=ui fí^nm B, * scttottecba £^ieidsttcchiub B*
" coílcUiib ff. " M<«gan B.

APPENDIX

Anais and. Gabais' mesce. Is and dtdiu cachaln Mongán*
andsin * in m-Baili don mnái, fdbtth donningell infessed ní dl
dia imihechlaib. Indarleó nf bA erchfan bálar * isin laig.' Ní
bo aidbliu' leó^ bith óecadaig." Bálir' and inimoiro blfa-

{ dain Iain. A n-difochtiassatar i* co n-accatar" ba hi Rdiih

I M6r Maige Line Írrabatar.

' gapBÍilh B. ^ Maggait B. * «m B. ' batir B. ' and H.

• hudbliuni B. ' leu A ' S omits this stnUnce aDCDadaig B.

* sie 8 balái V. *° difocbuutait H. diRuchtiasalui' B. " ci add.

These are the events that brought about the tcIHng
of ' Mongan's Frenzy,' ^

Findtigemd,^ Mongan's wife, besought Morgan to tell her

the simple tiuth of his adventures. He asked of ber a respite of

seven years. It was granted. Then thai period arrived. The 15

men of Ireland had a great gathering at Usnech in Mcath, the

year of the death of Ciarán the son of the Carpenter, and of tlie

slaying of Túathal Maelgarb,' and of the taking of the kingship

by DiatmaiL' The hosts were on (the hill of) Usnech. A

great hail-storm came upon them there. Such was its great- 20

ness that the one shower left twelve chief streams in Ireland

for ever. Mongán with seven men arose and went from the

1 aside, and his queen and his sbanacbie Cairthide, son

0Í Marcán. Then they saw something, a prominent stronghold

' litj The occasion of Mongan's 'Freniy' this here. Baile Men-

in or Mongan's ' Fienzy ' or ' Vision ' was the title of a Inle which is

m bit ; though one MS. ÍN) gives this title to the present tale. Ai to

\ other tales called BaiU, see O'Cuity, MS. Mmenali, p. 3S5.

* i,e, 'Fail Lady." In the tale prinled above, p. 46, 14, she is called
rtiligtmd 'Flame- Lady.'

* Accoiiling to the Four Masters these two events happened Ji.d.

[ 538.

' Dtarmail, the son of Cerball or Cerrbél, became king of Ireland
l*.0. 5J9(F.M).

5»

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

with a frontage of ancient trees. They «o to it. They i
into the enclosure- They go into a marvellnui I
A covering of bronie was an the boiue. a ple^uant bnwer
over its windows. Seven ronspicuoui men were there. With-

S in the house there was a marvelluus spread of cjuilts and
covers, and of wonderful jewels. Seven vats of wine Iheto
were. Mong^in was made welcome in the hau»e. He stayed
there. He became intoxicated. It was then and there
that Mong^n sang the ' Frenzy ' to his wife, since he had

lo promised he would tell bcr soniething of his adventures. It
seemed to then) it was not very lon^ they were in that house.
They deemed il to be no more but one night. However, they
were there a full year. Wlion they awoke, they saw it wu,
Ralhmore* of Moy-Linny in which they were.

1 S * Monein's own [lolaee in co. Aattim.

[Compcrt Mongdin ocus Sere Duibc-Lacha do
Mongán.]

I. Book of

Cf. D'Arbola dc JulMÍnvilIc, Calakeut, p. 3o6.
Fcnuoy, pL 131 a.

10 I. Feacht n-:en da n-d«achaid Fiachna Find mac BiciliGa
mheic Murccriaigb mheic Muredhargh mhcic Eogain mheic
N^illa M6rind amach, co rdinic a Lochlandaibh. Ocus is e
ba rl^h Lochlann an tan sin .i. Eolgharg M6r mac Maghair 7
dofiiair miadh j grtdh 7 anoir mhdr and. Ocus ot clan do bl

15 ann an tr4lh do gabh galar rf^h Lochlann 7 do fiarfaigh da
leagaihh 7 da flsicibh ca do foirfeadh' é. Ocus adiibhradur ris
nach roibh ar bith nl do foirfedh 6 ach[l] 1>6 dúuisderg Kl^geal
7 a berbhadh do, Ocus do sitcdh ' an cinedh ' Lochlunn don
bhoin 7 do Irfth énbó Chaillighi Uuibhc 7 do tair^ceadh bd

30 aile dl da cind 7 d'fitigh an cboilleach. Ocustucadh a cethair

■ fAoirfca^h.

' .i ttfih.

APPENDIX

»
»

dí -Í. bd gacha coisi 7 nir'gbabh an chaiUeach cor aile ach[t]
coraigheacht Fhlachns. Ocus is f sin dair 7 aitnsir táocadur
teachta ar cend FÍachna Find mheic Bxdáin 7 táinic leisna
teachiaibb sln 7 ro ghabh rfghi n-UIadh ' 7 do bí blfadhain
'na rfgh. 5

3. Laithe n-acn a cinn blfadhna do chúalaidb éighmhe a
n-dorus an dúnaidh * 7 adubert a íhis cia do dénadh an éigheam
(7 cipé) ' do tiénadh, a légon aaleach. Ocus (is í) ' ro bf ann an
chailleach LocUannacA do iaraidh* coraigheachta. Do aithin
Fiachna hi 7 ferais fóilti fria 7 darfaigh/j scdla <!(. ' Alál scdla lO
agum, ar an chailleach. Rtgh Lochlann ... do choraigeachla-
sa 7 feaJl ama ceithribh búaibh do gellad damh-sa (tar) éis mo
há.' ' Dobér-sa ceilhre bá (p, 131'') ara3on duit, a chailleach,'
ar Fiachna. Ocus adubcrl an chailleach ná gt^bhadh. ' Dobér-
sa lichc ^ bo arasott,' ar Fiachna. ' Nf gébh,' ar an chailleach. 15
' Dobér-sa cehhce JícAi'/ hú,' ar Fiachna, ' fichi ' ho arson gacha
h6 dar . , . ar righ Lochlann, ' Is brfathar dhamh-sa,' ar an
chailleach, '(diaj tucthaa fuil do bhdaibh a coigiiiUladh . . .
nach gébhaind co ifsta féia do dén(ani catha) ar rfgb Lochlann,
ainail tánac-sa anair . . . sa tarsa an-aister leam-sa mair5(in). 20

3. . . . Fiachna maithi Uladh 7 a fuair do maith(ibh) . . ,
coroibhe da'íA catha comóra 7 rái(nic] ... 7 do fógradh each
úadba for Lochlann chaibh 7 (ro ba)dar trf Idithi ac timsugudh
'cum an chatha . . . regh comhrac ó rfgh Lochlann ar feraib
Eirenn 7 do thuit Irf chi!l láech 6 Fhiachna 'sa comrac 7 2$
doléigid . . . cáirigh neimhe a phuball rfgh Lochlann chuca
7 do thuit fo . . . na tríchét liccb an la sin leisna cáiríbh 7 do
thuit trf chét láech an dara la 7 trf chel láech an tres IS, Fa
doiligh le Fiachna sin 7 adubert : ' As trúagh an turus lánca-

■ do marbad ar muindtire dona cáiribh. Uair damiad) 30
» cath no a comlann do thuitBclis le slog Lochlann, nl budh
aithmhéla linn a tuitim, uair do dfgbeoldais fi^iii fad.

duniugb. * Such' parenlhctes
beÍDg blurted and ill^ble.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

Tabhraidh,' ol %6, mh'ann 7 mh 'eirred dam-aa co n-dechor ifm
isin comr3c risna catribh.' ' Hi habair sin, a righ, ol ilu, úair
nf aihfiii/A frit dul do comrac riu.' ' Is briathar dam-so, ar
FUchna, ná luttfu d'feraibh Érenn Itá at as md, co n-dechar-sa
5 Win 'sa combrac risna ciiribh 7 mas aim do cinded damh-sa
bás d' íát;hbhail, do g^bh, úair ní f^iar dul seoch an cindeamh-
ain, 7 munab aon, luitfid na ciirig learn.'

4. Mar do bhddar isin imagollaim sin, do chonncadar
.xnóglach mdr mlleta da n-innsaighe. Btal úaíoe Kndaiha

10 uime 7 casán gelait^t isin brutt ds a bhruinde 7 lifine do
sriSIl re gcilchnes do. Fleasc ^ir a timchill a luili 7 da asa
6» fona iriighihib. Ocus sdubcrl ant (tgtach : ' Ca túach
dob^[h]a dontf do dingébad na cJirigh ditr' Ms brfatbar
damh-sa ... da roibh agum, co tmbrainn.' ' Biaidh,' ar ant

I J ddach, 7 indeoKtI-sa duil hi.' ' Abair an breath,' ar Fiachna.
'AdA-,' ol sd: 'an fainde <iir sin fot" mir-sa do thabnirt do
diomartha damh-sa co Héirínn 'cum do bhanchéile, co
cumaiscther ria.' ' Is briatbar dam-sa, ol Fiachna, nach
léicfiud xnfei d' ieraibh Éirenn do thuittm araba na comha *

JO sin.' ' Nocha meisde duit-si h(, oir geinfidh gcin ^dadha
úaim-si ann 7 is <iait-si aínmneochiiúM .i. Mongán Find mac
Fiachna Finn. Ocus rachad-sa ad' rictai-sa ann indui ná ba
heisindracaide do ben-sa. Ocus misi Manannin mac Lir 7
g«Sbha-sa righe Lochlo/ut 7 Saxan 7 Bretan.' Is and sin dorai

3j ant ligUch brodchú as a choim 7 slabhra fuirre ... 7 as
brUthar damh-sa nach bdra nrnchxira dibh a ccnd l«o liaithi co
dúnadh* rfgh Lochlanti, 7 miiirliilh* sf trf ch^t do slúaghaibh
LochlitnM 7 gébha-sa a m-biaidh* dc' Tdinic am (SgUch a
n-Éirínn cor'combraic fri mnái Fiachna a richt Fiachna liia,

3a coi^oinchedh M an adhaigh sin. Atrochadar na cáirtgh
laisin coin an U sin 7 tit chél do mhaidiibh LocbLtrnt 7 do
gikbh Fiachna rigbi LtxAíann 7 Saxin 7 Bretan.
J. DUa na Caillighi Duibbc imoTo, dorad Fiadma »

I talifaiuch.

APPENDIX

6i 1

(luthaig d) -i. seacht caislena cona crfch 7 cona ferann 7 cdt
da gacb crudh 7 táinig a n-ÉÍrínn far sin 7 fiair a bbean
bcbhtrom torrach 7 mg mac an tan táinic a hinbhaidh.' Ocus
do bl gilla ac Fiacbaa Find .i. an Damh a aÍDin 7 rue a bhean
mac an adhaigh sin 7 do baisdedh ' Eat fancn 7 tucadh Mong.ín
ar mac Fiachna 7 tucadh Mac an Daimb ar mac an ghilla.
Ocus do b( óclach eile a comflaithearnhnns re Fiachna Finn .i.
Fiachna Dubh mac Demiin 7 do laig sim co mar ar a flaitliius
7 nieadh ingben dó-san an adhaigb citna 7 tucadh Dubh-Lacha
UimbghcaJ d' ainro fuirre 7 do cuiridh ar seilbh a chiile
MoDg:tn 7 Dubh-Lacha. A cind Iri n-oidhche Mongilin Idinig
H^wuinán ar a cheaon 7 rug Ids di oileamhain é a Tir
Tairagaire 7 luc a chubhais nach iiicfidh a n-Érinn aris co
ccnd a dhá biiadhan dég.

6. Díla imoro Fiachna Duibh meic Demáin, filair a bsgha!
ai Fiachna Find mac Bba^dáin 7 fiíair a n-Uathai/ slúaigb 7
tsochraide hé 7 dochúaidh fona diinad 7 do loisc 7 do mhiiir
an dúnadh 7 do mharbh Fiachna fiíin 7 do ghabh rfy'hi n-Uladh
at ícin don uiagh sin. Ocus dob' ail le hUlltachai'M uile
Mongán do thabairt chuca a cind a sé m-bliadan 7 nf thuc 21
Haoanndn d' ul(ltachaibh) c co cend a sé m-bliadhan dég. Ocus
táinic a n-UIUachaibh far sin 7 dorónsat m^thi Uladh sidb'
etHTTS 7 Fiachna Dubh .i. lelh Uladb do Mong.tu 7 Dubh-
Lacha do mhndi 7 do bhaocheile a n'éiric a aihar 7 do bi

7. A thaiglaithe (?) n-^n dia roibhe Mongdn (p. 133a) . - . a
bbanchéle 7 íat ag imeirt ri[dh]chille, co facadar cléirchrn ciar
cfrdubh isin ur(s) aind 7 is ed adubert : ' Nf thocht budh cubh-
aidb* (1)e n'gh Uladb an tocht so 61 fort, a Mongáin, gan dul
do dlghailt t'aihar ar Fiachna Dubh tnac Demáin, ach[[] cidh 31
Ole le Dulbh-Lacha a rádha frit, úair atá sé a a-úalhad slúaigh

7 íocbraide 7 tarr lem-sa ann 7 loiscim an dúnadh ' 7 marbham
Fiachna.' ' N( fes ca sen ar an dubharius sin, a eléirchfn,'
MongáD, ' 7 racbmait leat.' Ocus dognlther amblaídh, úair roJ

* fauunbaigh. * bausdcgb.

* cubhaigb. * diuueh.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

marbadh Fiachna Uubh léo. Ku gabh Morijján right n-ULidh
7 u é difirchín do b( a[g] d^num an braith -i. Manannin mór-
chumachUtch.

8. Ocus do tim«aigliedh maithi Uladh co Mongán 7 adubert*

5 riu : ' l)<ib ail k-m dul * d'iatraidh ' íaígh[dh]e ar chúigeadh-
achaibh Érenn, co rágh[bh]aind ót 7 airgit 7 Ínnmhua do
thidhlocadh.' * As maiih an coinhaitle sin,' ol sfat. Ocus
táinic tOLmhe ar cóigídhaibb Éircnn, co nlinig a Laighnibh
7 is é fa r[gh Laighen an tan sin.i. Dnmdulih mac Echach*

10 7 ro fer flrcbain fáilti re righ Uladh 7 do fcisidar an adhaigb
sin isin mbaile 7 mur (do) éirigh amaiiihdirech Mongán ad-
choanairc na (c):cca[i]t bo find óderg 7 Isgb ' (inn fri cols gacb
(b)ó díbh 7 mar as t.iisce adchonnairc, grádhaighM (ai 7 tuc
righ Laighen aithne fair 7 asberl fris : ' Do gradhaigh/j na bi,

15 a righ,' ol s& ' Is briathnr damh-sa, nach faca n'ainh ach[l]
rfghi (n)-Uladh n[ budb (err lem agum fóÍD anáíL' * [3 bríathar
damh-sa,' ar rfgh Laighen, 'co rob cubhaidh* re (p. 133b).
Uuibb-Lacha fat, úair as { xnben as áiUe a n-Érínn (7 as) h( ac
siut sealbh chiuidb as áille a n-tlirinn 7 nl fuil ar biih comha

30 ar a tibhrinn-si fat ach[l] ar chaiideas gan (n do dinamh

9^ DoriJnsat amlaidh 7 do inaidm each ar a ch^ti dfbh 7 do
chúaidh Mongán dia t[h]igh 7 rue Ids a tri cbaecaii Ixi find 7
do liarfiiigb Dubh-Lacha : 'Ce híantíclbhcruidh as áil(le do}-

2% connairc rfamh 7 antf tac súd,' ol s(, ' bera . . , ferr, air ní luc
dnine siut acht ar cend chomaine . . . ' Ocus do india Mongán
df amail fúair na bi 7 (nf chQan do bhidar ann an Un tlo
chonncadar na slóigh, cum an bhaile 7 !s é to b( ann-L rfgh
Laighen. 'Créd (lán^gais d'fanaidfa^' ol Mongdn, 'a

30 bifathar dam-sa, da roibh a cóigidh UUdh anf uái d'ianidli,'1
CO fuighir c.' 'Atá imoro,' ar rfgh Laighen. 'D'taraidfat:
Duibhc-Lacha ihánac'
la Uo toboidh ' tochi at Mboogán. Ocu» adubert :

' úáibtrt.

áuL

gh. • Elhtf^il. * Lcdh.
* Uiaii;h. ' iiibcHj^h.

APPENDIX

chúalus-s3 neach tomani do ihabain a mliná amach.' ' Cin co

cúalais,' ar Dubh-Lacha, Habhair, oir is búatne bladh 'ná

sa^ghal. ' Gabha/j ferg Mongán ^ dc(5naigh;j do righ Laighen

I breiLh lets. Gairmis Dubh-Lacha rIgh Laighen le ar foC

folciih 7 adubert ris : 'An fuil agat-sa, a righ Laighen, co luit- 5

I fedh iif 7 lelh Uladh Irfm-sa acht miina bheind féia ar Cabhairt

, gridha doit-sj ? Ocus is brfathar damh-sa ná rach let-sa co

I tuca tá breth mo bcóil féin damh.' * Créd ( an breath?' ar

tlgh Laighen. ' Do brfathar rena conihall,' ol s[. Tuc righ

, Laighen a bhrfathar a n-écin<i» a fácbhala co tibradh ' df. 10

I * MasAi^' ar Dubh-Lacha, ' as ail ^ leam-sa gan a m-brcith co

n-bliadhna ienadhaigh' a n-i!ntigh 7 da tisair-si ar cúairt

I (p. 134a) lie a n-énteach rium-sa gan leacht a n-icnchatháir

ach[t] suidhe * a catháir am' aghaidh, úair eagail lem-sa an

grddh romhói doradus-sa duld-si, co tibartha-sa miscais danih- 15

sa 7 nach fa hail lem' fer féin arfs mhe, úair da rabham ac

Buirghe risin m-bliadhain so anall n[ rach(ar n-)grádh ar cúla.'

■ 1. Ocus tuc righ Laighen df an choma sin 7 rug dia thig ht
7 ro bSi treirasi aan 7 Mongán a sirg sfrghalair risin treimsi sin

7 an adhaigh' tuc Mongán Dubh-Lacha toe Mac an Daimb 30
(a com) alia 7 fa ben fritheotmha ihairisi dl ht . . . bh a Laignibh
Ic Duibh-Lacha hí-Co táinic Mac an (Daimh) lailhe isin tech a
roibe Mongán 7 adbert : ' Ok at.lthar ann sin, a Mhongáin,' ol
sé, 'ocus olc do thurus a TIr Thairragaire co teach Manannáin,
& nach demais d'foghlaim ann ach[t] biadh do chaithim 7 25
obhlóirecht 7 as dona damh-sa mo bhen do breith a Laignibh,
6 oach demais cairdis gan era re gilla righ Laighen amhail
dorighnis-[s]e re righ Laighen 7 nach tdalaing tú do bhen do
lenmhain.' 'Ni mesa le neach sin 'ná leam-safein.'ar Mongán.

■ 2. Ocus adbert Mongán fri Mac an Daim : * Éirigh, ol se, 30
' coruige an uaimh dorais ar fágamur an cliabh gúalaigh 7 fdt a
Héirinn 7 fót a hAlbain ann, co n-dechar-sa let ar do mhuin,

Ir fiariochaidh " righ Laighen da dráidhib

adéiaid !

I bcith 7 <

D-Éirind damh ;

' libhingb. ' iill. * (cnngafV. ' suighc. " aghaidh. " Garfochaigh.

THE VOYAGE OF BRA^

n-AlbAÍn 7 gain san dn rabu-sa inair sin, nf bu tgtiW lais
ffÍQ mli^'

13. Ocus do gUiiaisidar nimpa amLiidh sin (p. 134b] 7 is i
sin úair 7 aimsir to comiirad .xn(acli) Mhuigc Life a. Laignib 7

S ntnokdar co Machiairc) Chille Camdin a Lai(;hnibh 7 aichonn-
cadar nad , ■ . agha s\úagA 7 sochrRÍdc 7 righ Laighcn secha
isin a-iiach 7 do aithni);headar é. * Tnjash úo, a Mbic an
Daimh. ol Moogin, ' as olc an tunis tángamar.' Ocus adcona-
cadar an lurmhcléirech seocha .i. Tibraidc sagart Cillc Camiin

■07 a chcthair ioiag<51a ana láim fi£Ín 7 sccuia na n-aidhbheagh
ar main déirigh re chois 7 iai a[gl dinamh a irAlh 7 ro gab
ingaotus Mac an Daimh cn^i aduberi an cl^rech 7 do bf ag a
Anrfaighi do Mongín'Crédadubert Í' AdubcTl MoDg.'tn corob
téighind 7 do fiarTaigh do Mac an Daimh ar tbuic (na

iSiiatba. 'Nl thuicim, ar Macan Daimh, (ich[l] ndiJ> an fer
ana dhiaidh ' ' amen, amdn.'

14. Dcalbhas Mongin far &tn abbann mhór tn! lár an nuigtaB
ar dnn Tibraidc 7 droicbid mot taÍrsL Ocus fa bingnad le
TIbraide sin 7 ro gabh ag a choisregadh. ' Is ann sa nigad

30 mh'athair-si 7 mo senaihair 7 n( iaca rfamh abhann ann 7 A
iharla an abhann ann, as grc^ama mur tharrla in droicbid taini.
Do innsaighidar an droicbid 7 mar r^ngadar ca inddon an
droicbit, tuiiis an droichit fiiit[h]ib 7 gabhoj'^ Mongin an soi-
sc^la a U im TÍbiaJdc 7 léigis úadha Ic siuth tad 7 fíatbighís do

:; Mhac an Daimh an m-b.lidhfcdh' iat. ' lUidhter ' ^n,' ar Mac
an Daimh. 'Nf dingnum itir,' ol Mongfto, 'ocus lcicfcmaid
(jtdb mric le srutb fat co lair dúind ar toisc do difnamJi isin
dúnadh.'

15. Veibhais Mongjn é fi-io a richt (p. 135a] Tibraidc 7
JO cuiris Mac an Daimh a richt an déiiigh 7 cnróin mhór ana

cbion 7 sceota DanaidbbL'adb ar a muin 7 (egaid
agaid ngh Ijughen 7 íetat'j fililti re Tibraidc 7 tic
Eada 6 nach Iaca tu, a Tibraidc,' ar an rfgh, 'oois

> dhUigh. * liaighrcilli. ' bolghUn

>rob

APPENDIX

«S '

I
I

dtiind 7 innaaigh romhaind coroig an diinadh. Ocus éirgidh
Cdbhín Cochlach gilla ma charbaid-si let 7 atá an rfghan ben
righ Uladh and ^ dob' ail le a fáisidin do dhenamh duit.' Ocus
an oiread ro bf Mongán ag rádba a áoiscéla, aderedh Mac an
D^mh 'amen, amen.' Adubradar ' na slúaigh nf facadat J I
Hainh cairncach ac nach biadh [achi] éníbcal 3ch[i] an tléirech
lit, úair nocha n-abair do líighird ach[l] amen.

i6. Ocus táinig Mongdn roimhe co donis an diinaidh ' aroibhe
Dubh-Lacha ^ aithnig/j Uubh-Lacha be, Ocus adubert Mac
an Daimb : ' Fágaidh uili an tech, co n-derna an righan a lo
fjisidin.' Ocus an ben brcacfan no dhalta do fúbradh tré dhá-
niicbc anadb ' ann. Do ladhadh* Mac an Daimh a támha
tairsi 7 docuircdh amach hi 7 aderedh nach biadh' a farradh
na ríghna ach[t] an bean táinic le fiin. Ocus dánaw an grfa-
nán ana n-diaidh ° 7 cuirijan comhlii gloinidhe' ris 7 osgla[i]s 15
a fuiodeog glaine (p. i3Sb) 7 tócbh«/í a ben Kin isin leabaJdh '
leis. Nf tusca n.i rue MongSn Duibh-Lacha leis 7 suidh/f
Mongán ar a gúalaind 7 toirbiríi teora pric di 7 beris lais annsa
leabaidh " hf 7 donf toil a mcnman 7 a aigcanta ria. Ocus an
trdth taimic sin do dénam, do labair cailleach coÍtnÉIa na set 20
ro bf isin chut 1, oir ni thucadardan-uidh'" hf conuige sin. Ocus
do léigistar Mongán lúathanál dráidheachla fuithi, co narbo
\€\x df ní dha iacaigh sí roimhe. 'Tiúagh sin,' ar an chailleach
'ná ben neam dim, a na;tnc1éirigh, oir is écoir an smúaineadh"
dorind/uf 7 gabh aithrígbe úaim, oir taidhbhsi bréige tadhbas 25
damb 7 rográdh mo dhalta agum.' ' Oruit chugam. a cbail-
Ítaeh,' ar Mongán, 'ocus déna t'fáisidin damb.' EÍrgis an
cbaílleach 7 delbnw Mongán bir chúailie isin catháir 7 tuitis an
cfaailleach uman cuaille co fúair bás. ' Bennacht fort, a Mhon-
gáin,' ar an righan, 'as maith tairla dúind an chaillfot-^ do 30
tnarbudh, oir do tnncósad beith mat do bh.imair.'

17- (p- 'J^s) Ocus do chúaladar far sin an dorus ag a bbúa-

ladh 7 b 1! ro bf ann Tibr^de 7 trf ni^ubhair n

'Nl

' odubradBÍT.

' gloinighe.

" lenbaigb.

iodhagb. " biagh. ' diaigh. ]

■" uigh. " smuainei^h.

■a^M

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

facamair riamb' ar na doimeoraidhe,' 'bliadhain budh lial
Tibraide 'nan bliadhain so, Tibraide asligh agaibh 7 Tibraid* >
smuieh." 'Is fir sin," ar sé Mongiln,' 'Mongán u
ricbt-sa 7 iirgid amach,' ar si, 'ocus dobeirim-si lógbadh*

e d:libh 7 marbtar na cl^irigh út, úair xs gr^dhn Mongitio [iat) aroa
cur a richtaibh clciitch.' Ocus do éirgidur an teglach amacb
7 do marbhad.-ir na cléirígh 7 do Ihnitidar da ni^nbhar leó d<bh
7 larria rig Laighen diiibh 7 do fiarfaigh dfbh créd an seól ara
rabhadar. ' Mongitn,' ar sini, ' ar loldhcchi a ricfat Tibraide

10 7 alá Tibraide isin bhaile.' Uo liic righ Laighen fuithibh 7
lanhaigh Tibraide tempall Cillc Camáin 7 nl deachaid duine
don nónbhar uile gan gortugud

18. Ocus táÍRÍc rfgh I^nighen dia Ibigh 7 do im[th|gh Mon-
gin (p. 136b) far sin 7 do fiarlaig ri^h L&ighcn : 'Cait a tail

t J Tibraide Í' at sé. ' Nf hd Tibraide do bl ann,' ar .in inghcan,
'achflj Mongin.oir do chloisfea-sa é.' 'An robhai-si ag Mongiln,
n inghen i' or sé. * Do bhadhus, ar bx, úait as ferr cert Oram,'
' Cur^h]ar fis úaind ar cend Tibraide I ' ar righ Laighen, ' oir
mnraith tarrla dúinn a nihuiadti'r do marbadh.' Ocus tucadh

30 Tibraide cuca 7 do im[th]igh Mongán dia thigh 7 do bf coceod
ráithe gan teacht arls 7 do bf a sii^ galair risin ri sin.

19. Ocus táinic Mac an Uaimh cugi 7 adubcrt ris ; 'As bda
damh-sa, ar sé, mo ben do beth am' dcmais ire obltlóir mar
Ihusa, 6 nach demus cairdís gan 6ta le bóclach rígh L.aighen.'

35 'Eirigh-si damh-sa. ol Mongin, d' íis scél co Ráith Deiscirt
tn-Brcgh mar a fuil Uubh-Ladia L.limgiicl, oir nl inliubhail'
mhisi.' As a haithle sin adubain Dubb-Lacha: 'Ticedh
MoDgán cucam, ar si, 7 aid Hgh Laigben arsmchiiain Laighea
7 at.i Ceibhfn Cochlach gilla carbaid (p. t37a) an rigb aai^

30 larradh-ta 7 blih ag a rádha rium élodh do dinajn 7
ticfadh* féin leam 7 i^ ^rúaldh a n-dénann Moogán,' ar
Ocus docbiiaidh' mac an Doimh do gresadb Mongiin.
so. lai sin do glilais Mong^ roime co Ráith Dei

' d<Hnm>nighe.

* TIbniile.

•Udha

APPENDIX

m-Bregh 7 do éuidh ^ ar gitalaind na hingine 7 tucadh fi[dh}chill
árdhaidhc' cuca 7 do bháiar ag a himirt 7 do léig Dubh-
Lacha a cfche re Mongán 7 mar do dercasia/r Montrán forra,
atcoo[n3airc na ckht mora 7 fat niEthgel 7 an medhón seng
solusgheal 7 t.-tink ailges na hinghine diS 7 do airigh Dubh- S
Lacha sin, Is ann sin do gairistaiV n'gh Laighen cona
ildagaibh fon dúnadh' 7 do hoslaiged an dúnad roimhe 7 do
fiai&ig righ Laighen don ingin, an é Mongán ro bí asligh, Do
ntidh* s( corbé. 'Dob áiH lera-sa athchuinghi d'[f]ághbail
úait-si, a ingen," ar ri Laighen, ' Dogébihar. A n-écmais do 10
beilhagum co tian bliadbain, ni fuil agum athchuinghi iarfas'
tii, nach tinWr duit ht.' 'Maserf, arsin n'gh, da m-bí menma
MoDgáin meic Fiacbna i^ad, a hindisin dam-sa, olr an tan
gldaisis Mongáa, bíaidh * a menma agat*sa.'

31. Táinic Mongán a cian ráithi 7 do bi a menma fuirri-si 7 15
dobbátar stíaigi an bbaile uile ann an Iráth sin. lar sin
táncatai aláaÍgA an bbaile amadi 7 do impo Mongán úu dúnad
7 táinig dia thigh 7 do b! an ráíthi sin a sirg ifrglialair 7 ro
thimsaighedair maithi Uladb a n-eninadh 7 largadar do
MhoDgán toidheacht° lais do tbabairt cbatha fo chend a mná. zo
' Is btfathar dam-sa, ol Mongán, an ben rucadh úaim-si trém'
3Íngfa]icus"> féin, nach tuitfe mac mná ná ffr d'Ulltachaibh
impe" ag a tabairt amach, noga tucar-sa féin lem trém' glicus
ht' I

22, Ocus táinic an bliadhan faisin 7 do glíiais Mongán 7 Mac ^S
an Daimrompo co lech (p, 137b) rígh Laighen. I5 ann srn do
báiar nriaithi Laighen a[g] teacht isin m-baili 7 fledh'^ mhór fa
cbomhaÍT feisi Duibhi-Lacha 7 do geail a tabairt 7 táncatar ar
an raitb[ch]i amuich, ' A Mhongain, ar Mac an Daim, ca richt
a rachum?' Ocus mar do bádar ann, do eh(d caiileach an 30
mhuilind .1. Cuimne 7 fa garmfnjach caillighe moire fsein 7
madra mdr ar nasc aicc 7 í ag ligbe cloch an mhuilind 7
[e]elaii gadtaigh fo bráighit 7 Brotbtir a .ainm. Ocus do

' niigb. * ordhiighi. ' diinagh. * raigh.
' iatfS», ' lpiiii£h. ' tcngheiuAt. '" ninighlicwj.

" ingin,

68 THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

chonncadar gerrdn banmaircech 7 sensrathar* fair neoch do
bi a[g] tarrong arbba 7 mhine 6 muilenn.

33. Ocus mat do < chonDak Mongáu lat, adbert re Mac an
Daimh : ' Aid agum richi a racham, ar sé, 7 da m-M a n-din

J dani'Sa mo ben co. . . . d'fagbháil, do g^bh don cur sa hL'
' Cubhaidh ' riti, a deg[f]lailh.' *UcustaiTa,a Mhican llMmh,
7 gairm Cuimne an mhuilind dam amach dom' agallaim.'
'Ai.U tri _^tíí bWiiMan, 6t n.lr lar duine me da agaliaim,' 7
lainic amach 7 do Icn an madra h!, 7 [új adchonnaic Mongán

10 cuge lai, do mcmhaidh * a gcan gdirc fair 7 adubert fria : ' Da
n-demta' mo cbomaiile, do chuirlind a rich! ingine óigi tú 7 do
betha ad' mnái agum féin no ag rlgh I^ighen.' * Doghin* co
detmhin,' ar Cuimne, Ocus tuc builte dont slail dráidheachta'
don mhadra co n-dema ' mes^n mingenl * is áÍUe do bf 'sa bith

1; dc"*7$tabradhairgit'mabr.1ghait7c]uiglni^irair,cod-loill(edh"
ar boiss duine 7 tuc buille don chailligh co n-dema " ingin <^i]c
dob ferr ddbb 7 dfnamh d' ioginaibh an betha " di .i, Ibbell
Gniadh&olus inghin rfgh Mumhan. Ocua dochúaidh féin a
richi Aedlia mcic rígh Con[n].ichl 7 <io chur Mac an Daimh

30 a richt a ghilla 7 dorindc lalafrutgh glt^gbeal 7 foil corcra uíne
7 doroine diallait drdha co n-ilbrccnibb " 6'\r 7 leg loghiuU'
dont sraihar. Ocu» lucadar da chapall (p. 138a) ele a
each fuiha 7 táncatar fon sambait «in 'cum an dúnaid."
14. Ocui d^rcaighdar na doifseoiri" 7 adubradar re

3j Ijiighcn curbhc Acdh AUind mac rlgh Con|n]ai:hl 7 a ghilla 7
a ben .Í. Ibhcall GiundlUoliis ingin rr[gh] Muman ar ec[)i}tar
7 ar innarlvi a Coii[n|.-ichtaibb ar cumairce r(gh t^ighen tinga-
tar 7 nirbh ail leis Icachi slu'igi na sochraide budh mhii. Ocus
dorinde an doirseoir" an uirgill 7 tiinic an rf ana n-aigbiVM ;

yo n> Ccr fiilli friu 7 do gairm r< Laighen mac r{[gh] Con[n}achl
ar a ghúalaind. ' Nl he tin as btfs againd,' ar mac rl[gh] Con-

' Knaiiathur. ' do. ' cubhsigh. • mpliliiÍEh. ' il/rnlta.
*d6deii. ' dnigluwA/a. * d/rTna. ' mÍngásL " áé.

H doitUcgh. " A/rrtia. " ÍMiAai. " '

uirre

APPENDIX

^B^acbl, 'acht suidhe* ar slis righ don dara duine is terr sa
broidin 7 as misi at' égmais-[s]i an dara duine as ferr astigh
7 ar slis xigh blad.'

25. Ocus da heagrad an lech n-óla 7 ro chur Mongán blicht
serce a n-gnladliaibh na caillige 7 d' fechain da luc rfgh 5
Laighen uin-e do lin a sercc 7 a griidh é, ga nach roibh cndim
■nétl n-otdlaigh de nár Iin do sercc na caillighe 7 do gainn
gilla frilheolmha cuge 7 adubert ris : ' Eirigh mar a iiiil ben
mete rfgh Con[n]acht 7 abair fria co "tuc righ Laighen sere
7 giúdh mór duitt " 7 curob ferr righ 'na ríghdhamna. Ocus 10 ]
luic Mongán ar an cogar 7 adubert re' Cuimne : 'Ac siud
gilla 6 rfgh Laighen dod ' chuibhe re teachtai reach t cugad 7
aithnim-si an cogar út dobrir 56 7 da o-dernta mo chomairic,
of bethea ac ier budh mhesa 'na mhisi no n'gh Laighen." ' NI
túgba nuachuiV lem-sa, cibé agaibh fer bias agum.' ' Mised,' i
ar Mongán, 'mar ticfiu cugad, abair-si co liubhartha féia
wthne ar sédaibh 7 ar mháinibh antí do beradh grádh duit 7
iar an com ' dob^iV si cugad * air.'

z6. Ocus táinic óclach righ Laigheu d[a] agallaim 7 adu-
bert : ' Ac so corn" úasal tucadh cugad.' ' Dobermais aithne 20 |
ar sécaibb 7 ar mbáinibh ante doberadh grádh duiud,' Ocus
adbert ri Laighen risin n-gilla : ' Tabair mo chom° di.' Ad-
bert teaghlach righ Laigheu : * Na tabiuV do áeóid do tnnáí
maic righ Connachl.' ' Dobér,' bhar rfgh Laighen, ' oir ticfaidh '
an ben 7 mo seóit cbugam.' Ocus tarthaidb ' Mac an Daim 2
an com ' (p. 138b) úaithi 7 gacha fúair do áétaibh co maiain. I

27. Ocus adbert Mongán re Cuimne: 'Iar a chris ar ligb I
Laighen.' Ocus as amhlaidh do bf an cris 7 nl ghabhad gaiax '
Da aingcis an taebh Iar a m-bith 7 do sir an cris 7 luc rfgh
LaighCD an cris dl 7 beiridb Mac an Daimh a cétóir úaithi. 30
Ocus abair anois re gilla righ Laighen, da tucadh an bith
luit, na tréicfea t' fer féin air.' Ocus do índis an gilla do

;h Laighen sin 7 adubert rfgh Laighen : ' Cad ara fuil bhar
'A fuilsibb astigh on-sa,'bhurial-5Ían. ' Is aithnidh "•
saighi. ' re. ' eomn. ' gugml. ' comn.

chomx. ' ticfaigh. ' tartbaigh. • comn. '" aithnigh.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

dáib-si an ben so ar mo ghúaUinn-»í .1 Dubh-Lacha Ldlmgt
ingin Fiachra Duibh meic DemáJn. Rugus ar chairdis gait
£ra úadha h{ 7 damadh iil ' lei-sa, do dhcnaind Ímluid riut.'
Ocus ro gabh fcrg 7 loind« mot 7 adubett : ' Da tucaind cich
5 7 greagha^ lem, do budh chúir a n-iaraidh ' Oram, 7 gidh edh
n( dlegar tigema d'éta fam reracha a aire, gidh lesc icm, ber-si
cugad hi.' Ocus mar dorónsat iumlaid, tuc Mongitn teóra póc
don ingin 7 adubcrt': 'Aderadais each nach ó chraidhe do
dénmais an imiaidid, muna tucaind-si na póca so.' Ocus do

■o gbabhadar ago co rabhadar mesca mcdharchaia

38. Ocus do éirígh Mac in Uaimh 7 aduben : 'As miSr a
náire gan énduine do beradh deoch a Uimh mejc righ Con-
nachi.' Ocus mar nár* fregair duine i, do i;abh an da each
as (trt do bf 'sa dúnadh 7 do chur Mong.in lúas g^ilhi Ísna

ij hcchn 7 do chur Mongín Duibh-Lncha ar 3 ci'ilnibh 7 do chur
Mac an Doím a ben féln 7 do ghlúaiiidoi rompo. Úcus mai
do éirgidar amamhárach teaghUch rlgh Laighen, aiconcadar
bratach oa caillige 7 an chailleach liathgharmnach ar leabaidh *
t(gh Laighen 7 doconncadar an madra 7 sclan gadraigh 'ma

30 brágaid 7 doconncadar an gerrán banmaircech 7 ant iralhar
arprrsian (?) edaigh 7 do bkidar an nthuindter ar giire 7 do
tnuscuil righ Laighea 7 dochonnaic an chaÍHcM Uimh ri» 7
adubcrt : ' An tú Cuimne Cúlltaili * an mhuiUnd ? ' 'As me,' ar
si. 'Trúagh mar iharrla dain-sa cumusc riui-sa, a Chuimncl'

alll.

* grndhti. ' uraigh. * odulwrtjiil, «lib punCU

dclenlia under ili. * Icabaigh. ' ealialh.

[The Conception of Mongán and Dub-La
Love for Mongin.]

aj I. Once upon a lime Fiachna Finn, son of UaciAn. son of
Marcherlacb, son of Muredach, son of Eogan, son 0Í Niall,
went forth from Ireland, until he came to LochUnn, over
which Eolgarg Mar, son of Magar, was at that lime king.
There he found great respect and love and honour. And he

APPENDIX 71

not long tbere, when a. disease seized the king of Loch-
lann, who asked of his leeches and physicians what would
help him. And they told him there was in the world nothing
that would help him, save a red-eared shining-white cow,
rhich was to be boiled for him. And the people of Loch- 5
searched for the cow, and there was found the single
cow of Caillech Dub (Black Hag). Another cow was offered
to her in its stead, but the hag refused. Then four were
offered to her, viz., one cow for every foot, and the hag would
not accept any other condition but thai Fiachaa should be- 10
come security. Now this was the hour and the time that
messengers came for Fiachna Finn, the son of Baetán, and
he went with those messenger, and took the kingship of
Ulster, and was king for one year.

3, One day at the end of a year he heard cries of distress in IS
ifront of the fort, and he lold (his men) to go and see who made
[those cries, and to let the person that madethem into the house.
And there was the hag from Lochlann come to demand her
«ecority. Fiachna knew her and bade her welcome and asked
tidings of her. ' Evil tidings I have,' said the hag. ' The king 20
of Lochlann has deceived me in the matter of the four kine that
were promised to me for my cow.' ' I will give thee four kine on
his behalf, O hag,' said Fiachna. But the hag said she would
not take them. * I will give twenty kine on his behalf,' said
Fiachna. ' 1 shall not take them,' said the hag. ' 1 will give 2; |
four times twenty kine," said Fiachna, 'twenty kine for each
cow.' ' By my word,' said the hag, 'if all the kine of ihe pro-
of Ulster were given to me, I should not lake them, until
thou come thyself to make war upon the king of Lochlann.
As I have come to thee from the east, so do thou come on y
a journey with me.'

3. Then Fiachna assembled the nobles of Ulster until he had

ten equally large battalions, and went and announced battle to

of Lochlann. And they were three days a-gathering

unto the battle. And combat was made by the king of Loch- 35 J

len of Ireland. And three hundred warriors fel

7» THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

by Fiachiui in the fi^'ht. And venomoua sheep were let duI of
itifi king of Lochlann's lent against them, and on iliat day
ibTce hundred warriors fell by the sheep, and three hundred
warriors fell on the second day, and three hundred on the third

5 day. That was grievous (o Fiachnn, and he said ; ' Sad is the
jouraey on which we have come, for the purpose of having our
people killed liy the sheep. For if they had fallen in battle or in
combat by the host of Lochlann, we should not deem their tall
» disgrace, for they would avenge themselves. Give mc,' saith

lo he, 'my arms and my dress that I m.ty myself go to fight against
the sheep.' ' Do not say that, O King,' said they, '(or it is not
meet that thou shooldsl go to fight against tliem.' 'By my
word,' said Fiacbna, ' no more of the men of I rcland «hall {«U
by thetn, till 1 myself go to fight against the sheep : and if

tjam destined to find death there, I shall find it, for it
impossible to avoid fate ; and if not, the sheep will fall

4. As they were thus conversing, they saw a single tall w
like man coming towards them. He wore n green cloak of (

ao colour, and a brooch of white silver in the doak over his breast,
and a saiin shirt next his white skin. A circlet of gold around
his hair.and two sandals of gold under fais feet. And the warrior
said : ' What reward wouldst thou give to him who would keep
the sheep from ihec?' ' By my word,' said Fiachna, '[whatever

3j Ihou ask], provided I have it, I should give it.' 'lliou shall have
it (10 givcV said the wiurior, 'and I will tell thee the reward.'
' Say the sentence,' said Fiachna. ' I shall say it.' said he i
'givemc that ring of gold on thy finger ns a token for me,
I go to Ireland to thy wife to sleep with her.' ' By my woid/

^ said Fiachna, ' I would not let one man of the men of Irelsndj
fall on account of that condition.' ' II shall be none the woi
for Ihec ; (or a gloriou» child shall be begotten l)y me
and from thee he shall be Damed, even Mongan the Fair {V
son of Fiachna the Fair. And I shall go there in thy shape, fo

3S Ihal thy wife shall not be defded by iL Andlam Manajuian,»on
of Lcr, aad ihou *batt seite the kinphip of Lochlann and ai

EaU ^

APPENDIX

5 and Britons.' Then ihe warrior look a
• out of his cloak, and a chain upon it, and said : ' By
y word, not a single sheep shall carry its head from her to the
rtress of the king of Loch lann, and she will kill three hundred
if the hosts of Lochlann, and thou shall have what will come of 5

The warrior went to Ireland, and in the shape of Fiachaa
himself he siepl with Fiachna's wife, and in ihal night she
: pregnant. On that day the sheep and three hundred
f the nobles of Lochlaitn fell by the dog, and Fiachna seized
l)e kingship of Lochlaun and of the Saxons and Britons. 10

;. Now, as to the Cailleach Dubh, Fiachna gave her her due,
ric, seven castles with their territory and land, and a hundred
if every cattle. And then he went into Ireland and found his
■ g-bellied and pregnant, and when her time came, she
SOD. Now Fiachna the Fair had an attendant, whose 15
k'as An Damh, and in that (same) night his wife brought
brth a son, and they were christened together, and the sod of
Hachna was named Mongan, and the son of the attendant was
med Mac an Daimh. And there was another warrior reign-
j together with Fiachna the Fair, to wit Fiachna the Black, 20
n of Deman,* who lay heavily on his^ rule. And to him in
e same night a daughter was bom, to whom the name Dubh-
.Acha (Black Duck) White-hand was given, and Mongan and
Dubh-Lacha were afhanced to each other. When Mongan

s three nights old, Manancan came for him and took him 25
inth him to bring him up in the Land of Promise, and vowed
lal he would not let him back into Ireland before he were
ipclve years of age,
6. Now as to Fiachna the Black, son of Deman, be watched
is opportunity, and when he found that Fiachna the Fair, son 30
[Baedan, had with him but a small host and force, he went up
I his stronghold, and burnt and destroyed it, and killed

* inl-fhii, perhaps n nuutiff. See Glossary.

* He was rulet of the Dil Fistich. Sec the Four Masters, A.n.
17 aod 6aa,
' Li. Fiachna Finn's.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

Fiachna liini self, and seiied the kingship of Ulster by force'
And all Ihc men of Ulster desired Mon^an to be brought to
them when he was six years old, but Manannan did not bring
him lo Ulster till he had completed sixteen years. And then

S be came to Ulster, and thi; men of UUler made peace between

themselves and Fiachna the Black, lo wit, one-half of Ulster

to Mongan, and Dubh-Lacha to be his wife and consort in

leialiaiion for his father. And it was done so.

7. One day while Mongan and his wife were playing^iirAi//,

10 they saw a dark black-tufled little cleric at the door-post, who
said : • This inactivity ' in which thou an, O Mongan, is not an
inactivity becoming a king of Ulster, not to go to aveosc thy
father on Fiachna the Black, son of Dcman, though Dnbh-
Lacha may think it wrong to tell thee so. For be has now but

ij a small host and force with him ; and come with me thither,
and let us burn the fortress, and let us kill Fiachna.' ' There is
no knowing what luck > there may be on that saying, O cleric,'
said Monjian, ' and we shall go with thee.' And thus it was done,
for Fiarhni the Black was killed by them.' Mongnn seiied

30 the kingship of Ulster, and the little cleric who had done the
treason was Manannan the great and mighty.

S, And the nobles of Ulster wer« gathered to Mongan, and
he said to them : * I desire to go to seek boons* from the pro-
vincial kings of Ireland, that 1 may get gold and silver and

IS wealth lo give away.' 'That is a good plan,' said they. And
he went forth into the provinces of Ireland, until he came 10
Leinsier. And the king of Leinstcr at thai time was Drandubb

■ liL uknce {Mil).

' I read « //".

* AccoriUng tu the Foui MmIct* Fiuhiu the Black wai 1
6*4 bf Omdad CcTT, loiil of ibc Seotdi DU Riada In the Utttle
of Ard Corahin.

H mac Eel

^^_ own lips.'

APPENDIX

Echacb. And he gave a hearty welcome to the king of
Ulster, ajid they slept thai night in the place, and when
Mongan awoke on the morrow, he saw the fifty while red-eared
kine, and a white calf by the side of each cow, and as soon as
he saw them he was in love with them. And the king of S
Leinster observed him and said to him ; 'Thou art in love with
ihe kine, O king,' saith he. ' By my word,' said Mongan, ' save
the kingdom of Ulster, I never saw anything that 1 would
rather have than them." 'By my word,' said the king of
Lcioster, 'they are a match for Dubh-Lacha, for she is the one lo
woman that is most beautiful in Ireland, and those kine are the
most beautiful cattle in Ireland, and on no condition in the
world would I give them except on our making friendship
without refusal.'

9. They did so, and each bound the other. And Mongan ij
«rent home and took his thrice {j(V) fifty white kine with him.
And Dubh-Lacha asked ; ' What are the cattle that are the
most beautiful that I ever saw? and he uho got them,' saiih
she, '. . . , for no man got them except for . . . .' And
Mongan told her how he had obtained the kine. And they 20 I
were not long there when they saw hosts approaching the place, |
and 'tis he that was there, even the king of Lcinster. ' What
hast thou come to seek 7 ' said Mongan. ' For, by my word, if
what thou seekest be in the province of Ulster, thou shall have
it.' ' It is, then,' said the king of Leinsler. ' To seek Dubh- 35
Lacba have I come.'

10. Silence fellupon Mongan. Andhesaidi'l have never heard
of any one giving away his wife.' ' Though thou hast not beard
of itj'said Dubh-Lacha, 'give her, for honour is more lasting
thfin life.' Anger seized Mongan, and he allowed the king of 30
Leinster to take her with him. Dubh-Lacha called the king of
Lcinster aside and said to him : ' Dost thou know, O king of
Leinster, that the men and one half of Ulster would fall for my
sake, except 1 hadalreadygiven love to thee? And by my word!
I shall not go with thee until thou grant me the sentence of my 35
own lips.' ' What is the sentence ? ' said the king of Leinster.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

' Thy word to fulfil it ! ' saiUi she. The king of Leinsler gara ■
his word, with the exception of his being left . . .' 'Then,
said Dubh-Lacha, ' I desire that until the end olonc year we be
not brought for one night inio the iome house, and if in the
; course of a day Ihou comejt into the same house with me, that
ihou shouldst not sit in the same chair with me, but sit in a
chair over against me, for I fear the exceeding great love which
1 have bestowed upon thee, that thou maysi hate me, and that
I may not again be acceptable to my own husband ; (or if we

lo arc a-courting each other during this coming year, our love will
not recede.'

It. And the king of Leinsler granted her thai condtlion,
and he took her to his house, and there she was for a while.
And for tliat while Mongan was in a wasting sickness con-

Ijtinoally. And in the night in which Mongan had taken
Dubh'Lacha, Mac an Daimli had taken her foster-sister, who
was her trusty attendant, and who had gone into Leinster
with Uubh-Lacha. So one day Mac an Daimh came
the house where Mongan was, and said: 'Tilings are in ft' I

ao bad way with thee,' O Mongan.' sailh he, ' and evil was thy 1
journey into the Land of Promise to the house of Mnnannaii, 1
since thou hast learnt nothing there, except consuming food 1
and practismg foolish things, and it is hard on me that mfM
wife has been taken into Leinster, since / have not i

15 " friendship without refusal " with the king of Leinstei^ 1

atlCDiIanl, as thou didst with the king gf Leinster, ihux betor I

unable to folJow ihy wife.' 'No one deems that worse than

1 myself,' said Mongan.

II. And Mongan said to Mac an Daimb: 'Go,' saiih he,

30 'to the cave of the door, in which we left the baikei of . . .,*
and a sod from Ireland and another from Scotland in it, that
I may go with thee on thy back ; for the king of Leinster w
I I doubt whether to fear} ee liikradk m n ll Mli ' till judgoieat.'
> Cf •Ciiuiui aldlXúT amtiim iudiilf 'Mow are things with th«c9
[lil- over Ihcie) to-day V Aisliuge MdcConglinne, p. 61, I.
* gtmlaigá, pahtft fnta jplaJ», a iboalder-bukei ^

APPENDIX

ask of his wizards news of me, and they will say that I am
with one foot tn Ireland, and with the other in Scotland, and
he will say that as long as I am like that he need not fear roe.'

13. And in that way they set out. And thai was the hour ,
and lime in which the feast of Moy-Lifiey was held in Leinster, 5
and they came to the Plain of Cell Chamain in Leinster, and
there beheld the hosts and multitudes and the king of Leinster
going past them to the feast, and they recognised him. 'That

is sad, O Mac an Daimh,' said Mongan, 'evil is the journey
on which we have come.' And they saw ihe holy deric going 10
past them, ever Tihraide, the priest of Ceil Chamain, with his
four gospels in his own hand, and the . . . ' upon the back
of a cleric by his side, and they reading their offices. And
wonder seized Mac an Daimh as 10 what the cleric said, and
be kept asking Mongan : 'What did he say?' Mongan said 15
it was reading, and he asked Mac an Daimh whether he
anderstood a little of it. ' I do not understand,' said Mac an
Daimh, 'except that Ihe man at his back says "Amen, amen."'

14. Thereupon Mongan shaped a large river through the
midst of the plain in front of Tihraide, and a large bridge 20
across it. And Tibraide marvelled ai that and began to bless
himself. "Tis here,' he said, 'my father was bom and my
grandfather, and never did I see a river here. But as the
river has got there, it is well there is a bridge across it'
They proceeded to the bridge, and when they had reached as
its middle, it fell under them, and Mongan snatched the
gospels out of Tibraide's hand, and sent them' down the river.
And be asked Mac an Daimh whether he should drown Ihem.
'Certainly, let them be drowned I' said Mac an Daimh. '\
will not do it,' said Mongan. ' We will let them down the 30 ']
river the length of a mile, till we have done our task in the
fortress.'

15. Mongan took on himself the shape of Tibraide, and
gave Mac an Daimh the shape of the cleric, with a large

' I cannot lianslate liiota na n-auÍiiAeagA 01 aidhliheiuh.
' i.i. Tibrside and his allcndant.

-i»:.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

tonsure on his head, and the . . . on his back. And they
go onward before the king of Leinster, who welcomed Tibraide
and gave him a kiss, and "Tis long that I have not seen
thee, O Tibraide,' he said, 'and read the gospel to us and
; proceed before us to the fortress. And Ici Ccibhin Cochiach,
the atleodant of my chariot, go with thee. And the qaeen,
the wife of the king of Ulster, is there and would like to
confess to thee.' And while Mongan was reading the gospel,
Mac an Dainih would say ' Amen, amen.' The hosts said they

10 had never seen a priest who bad but one word except that
cleric ; for he said nothing but 'amen.'

16. And Mongan went onward to the front of the fortress
in which Dubh-Lacha was. And she recognised him. And
Mac an Daimh said : ' Leave the house all of ye, so that

I J the queen may make her confession.' And her nurse or
foster sister ventured out of boldness to stay there. M»c an
Daimh closed his arms around her and put her out, and said
that no one should be with ihc queen cucept the woman that
had come with her. And he dosed the bower allcr them

2oii'"l pul t)>eg'a'cndoor to ii, and opened the window of glass.
And he liftid his awn wife into bed with him, but no sooner
ih&n Mongan had taken DubhLacha with him. And Mongau
sat down by her shoulder and gave her three kisses, and
carried her into bed with him, and hod his will and pleasure

aj of her. And when that had been done, the hag who guarded
the jewels, who w»s in the comer, began to speak ; for they
had not noticed lier until then. And Mongan sent a swift
magical breath al her. so that what she had seen >
longer clear to her. 'That is sad,' said the hag, 'do not r

30 me of Heaven, O holy cleric I For the thought ibax I ha*Í
uttered is wrong, and accept my repentance, for a lying viiidl
has appeared to me, and 1 dearly love my foster-child.' * C
hither to me> bag 1 ' said Mongan, 'and confess to me.'
hog arose, and Mongan shaped a sharp spike in the chl

^ J and the hag Cell upon the spike, and found death. ' A bles
on thee, O Moafan,' said the queen, ' it is a good thing for ^

APPENDIX

79 ,

to liave killed the woman, for she would have told what we
have done,'

17. Then they heard a knocking at the door, and 'tis he
that was there, even Tibraide, and three times nine men
with him. The doorkeepers said : ' We never saw a year in
which Tibraides were more plentiful than this year. Ye have
a Tibraide within and a Tibraide without,' "Tis true,' said
Mongan,* ' Mongan has come in my shape. Come out,'
said he, 'and I will reward you, and let yonder clerics be
kilted, for they are noblemen of Mongan's that have been
put into the shape of clerics.' And the men of the household
came out and killed the clerics, and twice nine of ihem fell.
And the king of Leinster came to them and asked them what
course they were on. 'Mongan,' said they, 'has come in
Tibraide's shape, and Tibraide is in the place.' And the king
of Leinster charged [hem, and Tibraide reached the church
of Cell Chamain, and none of the remaining nine escaped
without a wound.

i8. And the king of Leinster came to his house, and then
Mongan departed. And the king asked : 'Where is Tibraide?"
saith he. ' It was not Tibraide that was here,' said the woman,
'but Mongan, since you will hear it,' ' Were you with Mongan,
girl ? ' said he. ' 1 was,' said she, ' for he has the greatest claim
on me.' ' Send for Tibraide,' said the king, 'for . . .' we have
chanced to kill his people.' And Tibraide was brought to ihem,
and Mongan went home and did not come again until the end
of a quarter, and during that time he was in a wasting sickness.

19, And Mac an Daimh came to him and said to him : ' Tis
wearisome to me,' said he, 'to be without my wife through a
down like myself, since / have not made "friendship without
refusal" with the king of Leinsler's attendant.' 'Go thou for
me,' said Mongan, ' to get news to Ráith Descirt of Bregia,
where Dubh-Lacha of the While Hand is, for 1 am not myself

So THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

able to go." Therenlier Duhh-Lacha said: "Let Mongan
come to me,' said she, ' for the king of Leinstcr i* on a jouroey
around Lcinsler, and Ceibhin Coclilach, the attendant of the
king's rhariol, is with me and keeps [cllin^ me to escape, and

J thni he himiielf would come with me. And Mongan behaves
In A weak manner,'* said she. And Mac an Daimh wcnl to
incite Mongan.

aa Thereupon Mongan set out to Raiih Descirt of Rrcgia,
and he sal down ai the ahouldet of the girl, and a gilded chess-

10 board was brought to them, and they played. And Dubh-
Lacha bared her breasts to Mongan, and as he looked upon
them, he beheld the great paps, which were soft and white, and
the middle small and shining-white. And desire of the girl
came upon him. And Dubh-Lacha observed it. Just then the

15 king of Leinster with his hosts was drawing near the fortress,
and the fortress was opened before him. And the king of
Leinster asked of ihc girl whether Mongan had been in the
house. She said he had been. 'I wish to obtain a request of
ibee, girl,' said the king of Leinster. ' It shall bo granted.

30 Except thy being with me till the year is ended, there is nothing
that thou mayst ask which I will not giant thcc.' ' If that be
so,' said the king, ' tell me when thou long»! for Mongan son
of Fiacbna ; for when Mongan ha» gone, thou wilt long
him,'

3; 3t. At the end of a quarter Mongan n»umed, and he
longing for ber ; and all the hosts of the place were there
the lime. Then the hosts of the place came out, and Mongan
turned back from the fortress and went home; And that
quarter be was in a wasting sickness. And the nobles of UNter

30 assembled into one place and offered Mongan to go with him

in make battle for the sake of bis wife. * By my word,' said

Mongan, 'the woman thai has been taken from mc through my

own (oily, no woman's son of the men of Ulster shall bM for

' The MS. has iÍMliitiiaiÍ, Iht dot ovci Ihc finl 1 being a pandntn

* At tl Is weak what M, does.

son

APPENDIX Si

her sake in bringing her out, unl:!, through my own craftiness,
I myself bring her with me.'

33. And in that way the year passed by, and Mongan and
Mac an Daimh set out lo the king of Leinster's house. There
were the nobles of Leinster gomg into the place, and a great I
feast was being prepared towards the marriage of Dubh-Lacha.
And he ' vowed he would marry her. And they came to the
green outside. 'O Mongan,' said Mac an Daimh, 'in what
shape shall we gof And as they were (here, they see the hag
of the mill, Id wit, Cuimne. And she was a hag as lall as a I"
weaver's beam,' and a livrge chain-dog with her licking the
mill-stones, with a twisted rope around his neck, and Brothar
was his name. And they saw a hack mare with an old pack-
saddle upon her, carrying com and flour from the mill.

23. And when Mongan saw them, he said to Mac an Daimh : 15
' I have the shape in which we will go,' said he, ' and if I am
destined ever to obtain my wife, I shall do so this time.' * That
becomes thee, O noble prince,' [said Mac an Daimh]. ' And
come, O Mac an Daimh, and call Cuimne of the mill out to me
to converse with me.' ' It is three score years [said Cuimne] 20
since any one has asked me to converse with him.' And she
came out, the dog following her, and when Mongan saw them,
he laughed and said to her r ' If ihou wouldst take my advice,
I would put thee into the shape of a young girl, and thou
shouldst be as a wife with me or with the King of Leinster.' ' I aj I
will do that certainly,' said Cuimne. And with the magic wand
he gave a stroke to the dog, which became a sleek white lap-
dog, the fairest that was in the world, with a silver chain
around its neck and a little bell of gold on it, so that it' would
have fitted into the palm of a man. And he gave a stroke to 30
the bag, who became a young girl, the fairest of form and mahe
of (he daughters of the world, to wit, Ibhell of the Shining Cheeks,

> i.f. Ihe king of Ldoiler.
* lit. a weaver's beam Ijarmnoih) of a tall hat;.
vti. the d(^.

8i THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

(UugblerDf ihe kint; uf Munsler. And he himself assumed the
shape or Acdh, son of the king of Connaught, and Mac an
Daimh he put into ihe shape of his attendant And he made
a shining- while palfrey with crimson hair, and of the pack-
J saddle tie made a gilded saddle with variegated gold and
precious stones. And ihcy mounted two other marcs ii
shape of steeds, and in that way ihey reached the fortic»5,

34. And the door-keepers saw them and told the king 4
Leinsicr that it was Acd the Beauiirul, son of the king q

10 Connaught, and his attendant, and his wife Ibhcil of the Shint
Cheek, daughter of tlio king of Munsicf, eiilcd and baniib
from Connaught, that had come under the protection of d
king of Lcin^ier, and he di<l not wish lo come with a gru
host or multitude. And the door-keeper made tJie a

15 ment, and the king came to meet tliem, and welcomed tl

And the king of l.einsler called the son of the king of C(sk1
naught to his shoulder. 'That is nut the custom with us,' iiaid
the son of the king of Connaught, 'but that Ji* should sit by (he
side of the king who is the second best man in ihe pialace, and

10 next to ihec I am the second best in the houte, and by the sidcB
of Ihe king! will be.-

J5. And the drinking- h oust was put in order. And Mob
put a love-charm ' into ilic diecks of the hag, and from the loo
wliich the king of I^insier cast on her he u-as filled with her

J5 love, so that there was not a bone of his of the slic of an inch,
but was tilled with love of the girl. And he called his attendant
lo him and said to hira : ' Go to where the wife of the king of
Connaughl'i son ií, and say to her "the king of Lcinstci has
bestowed great love upon thee, and tliai a king is better than

30 a king's btúr."' And Mnngan undenlood ihc whispering, and
«aid to Cuininc : 'Tlierc is an attendant coming fracn the king
of Lctnster with a message lo thee, and I know the secret
message which he brings, and if thou wnuldit take my advicC)
thou wouU&l not be with a wone man than myself or the kinc

■ lnKctd of iUeJtl I read tritJU.

APPENDIX

^LcÍnsier.' ' I have no choice' of bridegroom, whichever of you

vill be husband lo me.' ' Ifthatbeso,' said Mongan, ' when he

_ mes to thee, say that by his gifts and precious things thou

wilt know him who loves thee, and ask him for the drinking-

hom which he brings thee' 5

26. And the king of Leinster's attendant came to converse

—with her, and said : ' Here is a noble hom brought to thee.'

BWe should know him who loves us by gifts and precious

Bfciings.' And the king of Leinsier said to the attendant :

PGive her my hom.' But the king's household said : ' Do not 10

give thy treasures to the wife of the King of Connaughl's son,'

' I will give them,' said the king of Leinster, 'for the woman

and my treasures will come to me.' And Mac an Daimb takes

the hom from her and whatever else she got of treasures lill

the morning. 1 5

; 37. And Mongan said to Cuimne : ' Ask the king of Leinsier

" r his girdle.' And the girdle was of such a nature that

)either sickness nor trouble would seiie the side on which it

. And she demanded the girdle, and the king of Leinster

e it her, and Mac an Daimh forthwith look it from her. 3a

^And now say to the king of Leinster's attendant, if the (whole)

I: world were given thee, thou wouldst not leave thy own husband

F 'for him.' And the attendant told that to the king of Leinster,

^ who said: 'What is it you notice?' 'Are you in the house

. . .?' said they. 'You know this woman by my side, to wit, 25

Dubh-Lacha of the White Hands, daughter of Fiachna Dubh

son of Deman. I took her from him on terms of " friendship

without refusal," and if thou like, I would exchange with ihee.'

■And great anger and ferocity seized him,' and he said: 'If I

d brought steeds and studs with me, it would be right to ask 30

them of me. However, it is not right to refuse a lord . . ,,

^DUgb I am loath it should be so, take her to thee.' And as

^ey made the exchange, Mongan gave three kisses to the girl.

' For lilgAa Father flencbiy conjectures ttigia.

$4 THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

and s^d : ' Every one would say that we did not make ilic
exchange from our hearts, if 1 did not give these kisses.' And
they indulged themselves until they were drunk and hilarious.
zS. And Mac an Daimb arose and said ; ' It is a great sluune
S that no one puts drink into the hand of the king of Connaughl'a
son.' And as no one answered him, he look the two best steeds
that were in the fortress, and Mongan put swiftness of wind
into them. And Mongan placed Uubli-Lacha behind him, and
Mac an Daimh his own wife, and ihey set forth. And when on

to the morrow the houscliold of the king of Leinster arose, they
saw the cloak of the hag, and the grey tail hag on the bed of
the king of Leinster. And tliey saw the dog with a twisted
halter round his neck, and they saw the hack mare and ihc
pack-saddle . . . And the people laughed and awoke the king

■ S of Leinster, who saw the hag by his side and said : ' Art thou
the grey- backed bag of the mill?' '1 am,' said she.
that 1 shotdd have slrpi with ihce, O Cuimnc ! '

From the Annals.'

MoDgdn mac Ffachna Lurgan ab Ariur* filio Uicoir I'reUr
lapide* percussus intent, unde diciam est — Itcc Botn
odint:

'lilOiirinpknhdar'lle.*
itoifuil • iJcu • CSiwl Tire : '
ilogína)" gnlm n-ammu* lU.
■nolrtdl I* Mongin miu: Fluhn».

■ r=Ticemuh (-t-io8S). RasL B. 448, fo. 9b, a, a-Ul 624;
s^Aminlsof UUlcr, A.o. 6is ; Crv^ Chronictim ScDIatam, A.ti. 6351
A^=Aiin»liof iheVouf Miuicn, a.D. 610. ' Artuir T Arthur CAr.
• bl oolrpre tenc Upile TUmam CAr do Urctnailita /'JV. • Alle 7:
' doÉÍtÚ C4rdofuil r. • afia CAroca i Tocca I /W. ' Clunn-Tlni^
/W. * dagena rdogniail CAr il<js«nnt fM. * amnut T n
CAfFM. "niuirlidh J'taaitbrniarmaiilit/W.

APPENDIX 85

Ladi] Cblúana Aitthir iudlu,
Hmra in celhnu rotsrladiid ;
Conitjc Ciem hi imfochid,'
ocus llland mac Flachacb.'

Ocus * in alas ele 5

dta' fogrutdo mór de* thúa.thaib:
MoQgdn mac Flaclmai Lurgui,
ocus Rúnán mnc TúaibaiL ' '

•iw-fAfimochid TCir. » sU CAr A l/ Fachiach í'AÍ'Fiachna T.
* tm. AU. ' am. AV. " tk FM. foghnoon T fognaid Chr íosgniM 10
AU. ' di AV Aa eel. ' For a RtimlatÍoD of this exlracl, ecc p. 138.

(*)

From the Annals of Clonmacnois.

Quoted by O'Donovan, FM. vol. i. p. 243, note z.

A.D. 624. Mongan mac Fiaghna, a very well-spoken man,

md much given to the wooing of women, was killed by one

P (Arthur ap] Bicoír, a Weishman, with a stone. 15

Irische Texte iii. page S9.

' A MoDgáÍn, B. Monand&in,
ni minec bar merugud

Uin biug CO m-lio5ciaidi
d Tuind Clidoa comtoda
is loracbta in icbugud 30

CO Tricbt n-álaind n-Eáthúli.'
' Mongin, O Mananoán,
Vonr wandering Is aol frequent
In the land with living heart

Proin Tonn CUdoa of even length ^j

The ... is winding
To the beautiful strand of Eothailc'
Quoted as an example of the metre called Casbairdne seise-
lach (iedradhach). Tonn Clidna (Toun Cleena) is a loud surge
n the bay of Glandore, co. Cork. See lis diimshenchas, Rev. 30

86 THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

Celt. XV. p. 437. Trachl Edthaili (Trawohetly) is on the coast
ofSligo.

VIM

Irische Texte iíi. p. 87.

J ■ I ro-Bendcbiir

atá Mofigán nuc Fl^chim ;
Is li^is] arA Concbobur
ar f;ntfajnd solillc aclatbchi. '
' In Baagor
10 la Monglln bod of Fiachna :

With him is Concbobur
Ai tire conlesi of shidd-iplitting.'
Quoted as an example of Ibe metre called aefresiige bece. \
itis is Stokes' conjecture for UU of ihe ms.

IS IX

From Gilla Modutu's poem Senc/tas Han, iwritten i
1 147, Book of Leinster, p. 140 a, 29.
' Ingen do Cbumiulin Dub-Lacha,
lennAR Mongáin. mulfa a eland,
10 Colgo. CaiuU, ba luchl láthair.

C&mljgmi a ntaLhaLr mall :
ingKQ mate DenunAio Dub-Lacha

Da n-KelUn era tacha IhalL'
'CamiDitn'i dnuchtci wu I)ub-ljuha,
as Tbe lielovKl of MongiLn, Ihcir ol&priag wot good.

ColgD. Conall. that were folk of sUTrnstb.

Ciinligcin wu hit Kcntlc mother.
Dnugbicr □! D«iiitii4n'i taa wai l>ub-Lacha
Of the while arms, wilhoui iaiill. of jon.'

30 dinmán Dub, the daughter of Funidnln mac Gécce, of the

royal race of the Ui Tunri, was the wife of Fiachna Dub mac

Denuniin (LU 140 a, 37).
Unless rndíAai'r nut// may mean 'grandmother,' we must

translate as I have done, and refer the ti ' his ' to Mongin.
35 Ai lo Dub-Lacha being called 'of the white arms,' cLfa

by-name mmhghel. p. 61, lo above.

APPENDIX

From Ms. Laud 615, p. 21.

Mura cecinit.

' Coinnc Mongain is Cotulm cairn
maic Feidlimthc an urdnaoim
n Canaic Eolairg co m-bloidh
otnuid eolaigb a lisbruih,

De dardain lainic gan mairg
Mengan co Camiic Eolairg
d' acallaim Coluim CiUe
a Tir Irediug Tairngaire.

Ni fuBÍr Mongan do logimm
ag lecht do d' fechoin nime

fa cochall Coluim Cille.'

On a Thunday without woe

MoDgan came to Canaic Eolairg

To converse wiUi Colum Cille,

From the flock-aboundiag Land of Promise.

Mongao found not any help
When be went to see Heaven.
But his bead — great tbe proRl I —
Under Colum Cille's cowl.'

t Now Fahan, co. Dooe^ Muni died «bout 650.
* On Lough Foyle.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

From Ms. Laud 615, p. 18.
Mongan cccinit do Colom Cille.

ng nnch full gtaáh lUclba.

gocli dam imda ilorda,

nacb hiil urul a»' Scb iw itfg.

onuii dcr^ k^tbftn buntkcrdtu,

corp (el «r ii-dat*d • ruin,

0CIU eUgan imlMrtiuit

rotg glu gui lodu ft gon U^

ocusfollei ' " '

Fc«h»r gDltw Cobdm CIU«,
lor A binac as gMb ddr,
00 ccnd coif /SiJket Hi cdnrntfl,
aidUc remoui, Kdll ts rdL

«Tir

IBBT k canur Rr gan b>i*lg.

Tfi caoguil inii na rim

nut docuired on rii tiJ,*

in guJi innu dAr mo Irigbend

(li coibheii Girma lodetii.

Mar dooudJur mv De gu ^*gh^T

om lir <ein Unas aiu

gu CnmUg Eolaiix pm outell,

cu iKxd Locba FdBil fein.

■ Thli M U lupccfiniHiB : it ipoiL the metre.

* In the Dole* ud Fjlirc Oangatw, p. d., theM
* Coliun (álncruib mmaclitadli.
drccb drrg Ictluui la
cOTp s»l, cHt cen it)
fnlt ca*, ml) {lu d

■ Read t4U.

APPENDIX

Colum Ciilc ciin gati go.
briathra an laoicb gcriai r;
ante nach cabatr na rainn

C^omb-Cbolum caidb.'

Beloved, chaste, genile, just, fin-
owerful, miraculous Colum Cille,

disputant, combative,

■ Who loveih not miny possessions.
Who with his gifts without displouure
Helpclh ever; aiunerous multitudinous band.
Ova (hK there is neither wrath nor anger,
Red broad radiant face,
While body iliat hath proved mysteries,
And fame without sin.

The sound of Coluni Cille's voice-
Abundant its sweetness above every liain,
To the end of fifteen score paces,
Va«tness of courses I it was clear.*

The son of Eihne and of Fedlituid the Fair,
To him God sent me from afar.
From tile Land of Promise of the bIcsKd.
Where truth is sung without faUehood.

There is three i

I by the bright King ;
Dies the size oF Erin hcrsi:ll

* Retd óighniA. ' Read eara.

* Thii qnalrain is also found in Three Middle-Irish Homilies, p. loa,
e Oengusso, p. ci, and in Goidelica, p. 163. Instead of cJii

§tiit ait read cíií lit dim. Diac having become a monosyllabic, lit
» ebongod veAafiihtt to make up the seven syllables.

THE VOYAGE OF BRAM

Ai ibe Son of Uod dlredod me proiperoiul;,
From mj own Und I bave cocne ycMcrdajr
To Curate HoUÍrc without dJsgnus.
To Ihe edge of l.ougb Koyle lltelf.
Loch Fo)>le. bolpJiabk wilhoul iil-fame,
lucali of the Ul Nail.

Colnm Cille, ttir withoui inlMhood.
Though the wordi of tin- wacrior wen
He that ilolh not help the weak.
He I* no friend of bdoved Coliiiu.'

GLOSSARY

i ÁagiU. aa ao. 56. C(. Beneob.

Beitr. jdi. 3S. dam Eongair ilir di

i. Amta C. C. (Eg, 17B1. fo. 6a. 1).

I Bball f. Bfflt-tra. dat. aboil) 3. W.

» clérlgl

lir. SeeiK
■duiti tmi ifi. 4.
I.&. ata", 33.
I.adtiaim I paciivt, htari 47, ). i. T.
I'ige m. ttriod. ai. 56, 9. CDon,
X) lised Atgi na bliadnn sin,
n Acda SL . 9.
31 Utam. gciL aiciuchia ja, IB.
(«itcbend m. tndl chiif> 56. See
a OQ pp. a6 and 40.
^ tounli/ul. Airctliectj la.
in. gathtriag. laemity,
gen. aireclnais 66.
I BiiOEol n. oralory (LaL oraculiim) ;
any tmall katisr. 53, 16. 56, 18.
liaei travel, joitmty. 59. 20.
■^álUlgtad lamfeoning, miílíng. iSaL
áilhgiud (uthcbiud) 46, 7. áJth-
g«6d (aithcheod) 48, 3. nA
Eilaitha' d'dlbgúd na d'élignd, LL.
•fisa. 46.
«ilblig? 48. 2.

«ithrectl eausing ttfentamt. 63.
^MBbrit [with gen.) iamit {of\ LL.
s77b, U>. amrit, Fél, Oeng. clxii.
BOid. pL ambHti 46, 11.
•n-plr IV7 sharl, 50,

an-guss ilrmglklttiiitii. makimi. 44, 1

aptbu C. ftrdilion, 47. ikcc.
apthin Wb. jat, 18, nbll

sBa, 12.
asa alioii is [ari). li. Sea

Ocng. iDdd. malUi In fn

dch, FB. 38. cr. ata.
&sie ? 47, 1. S,

ascndalh al tail, a. 46, IS. 14.
Bin toMiii are. it. Sen ala, Bla

F«L Oeng. Index.
aOxAmAlurrfuHd} 4fi, 10.
ailuigiur (with oco.) / fiM Ihanki

{/or), atlugnlar 43, IS, nlcon*

roitlalgatnr m'lithair-ie

riani, \A^ >79n. L

baa /imJ. 48, 3. nlrbo bu diÍ40in,

LL. ae7b, a.
ban-chotén a im-iíl iaad of MOamtn.

30. Cf. bjuicbiiire (of incrmaiditi

LI. 197a, 44.
bdn-glan faU-furt, ace, Í. b4D|lain

43. ai-

bon-mairiiech oj a man (ban-nurc).

6S, 1. 7t. 22.
bllb weríd. gen. bAiha 6. maJthi

ull du dib bálhaib (rbjrmeg wilb

r^^iBHJ^i

^B 99 THE VOYAGE OF BRAN ^^^

^H rátbiiib). Book oT Ptnagh. p. ite.

«iini(>ch tvnjurrd? Or is il Caii-

^H «e. Cr. Beucnb. Bdlr. >ll. 51.

n«h£Vni>i4«»?

^H ben 19. See now on p. 39-

^H bilh-iultrrii curla,tiMg aMt. 46.

a3b,6. auMi Wb. 3d. 8.

^H LU. i7ti. 20. LL. iSlii. IB.

oClonuur Haffii/ M. cenmur .i.

^^^ MAlh n. ibiam. OtX. bUlh a. 43.

^^ Dom pL bláthi 6. dtL hUlhiub

ilolapil, I-nr. a6lb, 7& With

3-r.

iollowiiiK «ccuMtiw : ceinmair

bUtbe r. «/m«. Eto- bUthe. >.

um>ln di> n-dichet, LL. sMo. 'X.

bnineAwrfn-(-Wiiech). 6a.

ceinituir lúailh 7 cenA, LU. 61a.

braincch (broinedi) kaviiit a frtm

3t>. cr. Zimmo, KZ. 30. p. a6.

^ (otaAiff). 34. *iw-«c>/'««'(<rf

^h B roitrsi). s6. 17. *l>iiid do

tifmi alllumgk. 43, 17.

^1 brunch, do bruoe (of a d*%\. LL.

cted Alii? dtt. oérad 47. 13.

^K i93>. 87. See AisL Mdc. Coogl.

cla vUOtr. jt. 74. See note ea

^^L Index s. V. brmna

p. 15.

^H bt«t>chc£ui. 70.SO.

^H MmuihlKd,} .i.lom«<1.0'Cl du.

diiíNá.a.'

^H brúu«9.

comiii m. qT a- i?.»/ nfi. (*

^H broc-cbú d ^affisk. HHitg kmmd.

M/aiuK,. daL pL comliub 3a.

^H 60. as. CÚ iuidhe luftadh tar

W.eyfo».

^H mnir.l brodchú gubb gr<Wmdlu

cam-anm n. ni t^aaf ymtdtr. la

com-gniiiif. 4./«/. II.

^^P aithallih ilo mluubh L'úculainii 1.

^P H. 3. .8. p. 593. «A a. Cf. W,

>. hi comfixnt dont SAb «la,

^H MuV'>Co^'"'''*^G>-i>°Io«<»'

l.U. Mb. 8. W.cyfagt».

^L Uiiiodini / ifnng. braimlil 36,

comm L liti/. Wi/. 48, 12. du.

^^L uiin bronnid btcd dl IhelD. U.

oomialr 48. 11

^H MS». <0. aism-hrmnncl ()<«.

iomso«/*i«..v.*«^46.1

eoa-llfim / /i/ AKaAxr. »-tUt. (g. 3

^H I5<5>.]S.

eoDleesi.

^^H búe OTTtfi'obU 45. amboK .[■ ni

edr (*«™. d«. pL odrib 18. mc

^^B Umadncb. buic cacb biuuduti

•g. canud oflit. Fa Ocbb- rwv.

^H ilUliV Cortn. p. 4. r«nbrlgtn-b4i.

»7.

^H 14. >7«a. V.

cor^tisM nn^. 59. 2. 9. 11. Tr.

Tcite It. a. p. 1». i)& oHlHd

^^^^^■Mb MÍT. 35- Ctcadoiiin.

LU. tisb. 38. a. Chran. SoM.

^^■EM«fr. ...

90. FH., JLD, 645.

^^^^^Btt «M«0'. 11. 14. 23.

^^m nfaMcb m. Uriat «& ^ P«

d>ini.u.n. SMDOU«>p.c».^^^H

HHHI^^^V

^^^V GLOSSARY 93 ^|

dubhontiE a Ji>j>iir,f . 61, S3. ^^^|

43,8.56,20. Sail. 4113.

dúis r. tniiuri. nom, pi, dúial fn- ^^H

dfntacH/A'iw/eilotLind). 9.

ciBus Ihingi, 13. diiii 111 ófda alrn- ^^^|

daius f. Ul. IMi ifaci efdayi a thorl

dide, LL, nth. B n.árdiue, LL. ^^H

vkiie. Sail. Intlex. denus ra-

Sio. di Ordublb, Tiwlxu. Km. 14 ^^H

bcicc, Wb. a^d, 2(1. denass laid-

(Rev. Cdl. xl. p.443). coD-dúlilb ^^H

ituilai. Tochm. Em. 14a (Ren.

Oatha. Key. Cell. Mr], p. Of, U. ^^^|

Cell. XI.. p. 45a), gen, doisa 50.

H d«Ms&d (,b r^Af Aan</. dat. de-

t-^\aet. waiting. ')\.l!fi). ^^H

^m «ecod 47. 13.

C-cdlniud i«»Vi<v. 9. ^^1

^H dilObit «i^. 68, 21.

^H «dteUir n. iptar-thaft. 47. IE. 48, ».

See note on p. ^^^|

^H ikOmilti/arinists. ilnmgkuldi, 56.

iHssiur / iufuin. aii. eiulilat .1. ^^^H

^H Oúile r. timfluity. mih. 56. 8.

inrtiugil j6. T. V'nm tlt% /nut, ^^^^M

^H Lt. «9,3, 38. LBr. a6.>, 43.

CI. A.K. ipyrigiiH '10 Huira' ^^H

^H colom V cbcndsa 7 diuill, Book of

from ifur ■ Inick,- ^^H

^H FCn>i£)i, p. 306. diuide cridc,

LT-becc W17 i«n//. 47, 10. ^^H

^H Stokes, Zjm), 4543. Díúidi ingm

or-chlan w»? /""X. 57. ». ^^H

^H SUncridi, RawL a 511, fa ti3b, i.

or-Sod ivry ivAiVf. as. ^^H

^K do4!lwriar(t)//ARw. docbuircthor

enUQh c^cnii / ao. See ncle OD p. ^^^|

^^L 6a. {a)ltkrawmyill/.lltaf. do-

^^H chmlbar 65. See Strodun, Oe-

cbu-Un grtal Iraii^lt, larrrw. SQ. ^^^1

^^B ponenl, p. 8, n. 2; p. 48. n. 1 ; p.

Salt 37«4. LU 173a. 4«. ^^H

^H «^

«-tntb/mAH/ji. g<;n. «talbo 13. See ^^H

notoot.p.3B. ^H

^B fedAim tircMmfiru. Wind.

>íÚmíadivH. 46. SccKtoka, C/fif/t ^^H

^K dfrJ'dib inV/ tomt. 16. 17. ao. ai.

^^V See rune on p. 38.

ctbe. prer faa. of V< ''•>« "'- 48. ^^H

^B dc-SI (with ace.) fomt,. «fproacfui.

IS. eiha CO Fciifne linleb Conn, ^^H

^^^H doafil, wtlh proleplic infixed pro-

Rev. CelL iU. p, 344, 12. Mhl CO ^^H

^^^H noun refeiring [0 subject ; 43, 21.

Euidiu, ib. 345, 7. heihn hiteldlb ^^H

^H 84-"-

cossix* (rkhulved aili, LU, ssn. *• ^^H

^^H dA^nigim / lAnwr, Jn>;i. dosnig

i-lol Knmll. dU. etuil 97. él<^, ^^H

^^H IB. ai.

Gold. p. ^^H

^^H drtpa? 40- Sec nolc on p, la

i!ulK:faairc f. lovi vf lumt. Aomc-Hci. ^^H

^^H dMUl n>. <iar/.'ij'. favmriu. 53.

«til. 63. See note on p. 41. ^^H

^^H dreld. Tog. Tr. 473. LL, 347».

^^H 33. msu-dteittel. LL. ajob, 86.

^^H dieiuil. LL. 373b. drctlal, LU.

ttboll a goÍHg, journ^: limt. 63.

^^B ph, 87. Ct [retel Wind, and W.

fabhall .u fcacht no siubbal. O'Cl.

^^1 tiTlliTiL

rolásat uili > D-oen/abbull a slega

r^^BiiH

^F 94 THE VOYAGE OF BRAN ^^^

godralBb 67. 33. 70, 21. From guUr

IÍÍÍ, otííonipidin/ií?

gdiiecbukch laKgiuiii. dkU oc giirc

^H (ram M. eingl. /d///nt> or O. Krcncb

chialg 61.

^H ^././m:

gnnnnnch a (».([«/> ««>M. (Í7. 8L

^^H rnhol ihafi. ilat. fdliDl 53.

^H nchim /wKfKU*. vA>L og. 1 : ro-

gcldod teAHnai. 37. ^^

^H ia43.»- pret «g. 3: fich43. W-

R>nach ^/.-v? d«. E'otS 6'- SlJI^H

^H a. licH (kv. Qchlhc) a iTtelcr,

»o»or.p.4^ ^H

^H Rev. Cell. li. p. 44B. 1.

glílnírrrfa/. «.g«.gtalK>3. UJI^H

^H fin<tI>An •mkUftaU. 51.

DOI eUno. Echtni Condlixi 7. ^H

^■^ 6n<J-chride n. ™»im (/■«) httri.

gUs-muir n. r*( onnr «a. 53. Rev.

Celt «ui. 47'- Sm O-Cl, ». ». gbu-

^B finJ-inilb B wkilt .tram ) 40.

mlagh.

^1 Uae Í. vimt. 43- >'«]. Ocng. Index.

pvó#M*íyW. d«L RDÓus"- gnie.U

^H Prom Ul, vlnej.

tfgdi. LU. 1090. 11. Corm, Tr. p.

^H Glhilhir m. /vf'v. 57,

Si.fi.

CiuSc Í. teuuy. 4Í. gm. gnde, 6.

^K 48. Bui / 4iUari. dii^Kiet. V*\.

^^h Oeng. Index.

aj-

^H fordecbuini / /f«A« (a /»«*>.

^H fonlecbbu. 5-

gú«i f. ifaiyvr. dal. i n-gúalt 4a, 11.

^H IbKktittc /<Amv. 48. 30.

4J, I. I n-EÚaí» 7 S*"«d. LL.

^H te-OtUidm / TAoi^. rn/M». (nr-

..jU ^^

^H Mbad (Icniuicfid) 46, Ifi. cr. er-

^H MlocBd, FIs AduniD. 9 (I.Rr.).

idna r«r(. >J. ^^H

il-dnlhach manx^^«inJ. 14. ^^^H

^V j: forcHnii 16. If forasndi, tl»

fl-ddlMch mawx-dU^d. 19. ^^^1

^V Riding of A' (rorosTui //}. be

^H COFTCCI. tiic rorb waver» belvwcn

im-difon nrT7 Jiit'Oit 55. LI. nn^^H

^K th« iinl luid third conjusalloiui.

la FeL Oeng. crrii. t6. ^^^1

^^L Ukc unfolngaim.

Íni-chiúin ntygrnttt. as. 21. ^H

^^H (ot.«nleim / ^n^ ufan. rormife. la.

Im-luid A/ MO/ «4mtf. a. Immelotw,

^^H

daiar. Tur. ab.

tiamufini^. ÓM.\maMn.j».

^^H IKtiiiilii. See note nn p- 38-

■mnie.rl>n>/rvBi4i*«£ Immoal j7.

^^H noii t. atlatk. dit. frotx S3-

^^H

^H Catn lir 36, i^ln rtio 5. Misk>r<a.

U>d«U dOUil,. w. 1 n-lnc**, ■'to|L

^^B SNOoMcnp.^.

Cmc ta ^^M

^^^^V 95 ^H

^^HiaMA riee- a<^ pl- mdradi 4a.

tóíajighl. 54. Salt. iDdcK, gen. b ^^|

^V Sw WiDd. S.V. mdi^d].

nlUlo. Trip. Ufe, 93. 8. dat. isiod ^^H

^B iKllOD ixjtfnn. 93.

nilb so, LU. 74a, 37. ^^H

^^H^tad-raa a iatgt feral, gen. (loca-

^H ti>« ?) inditriss 53-

óigideehi hospitality. 53, 15.

^H tiJhdaim / ri/i/i. inléded 46. S-

CHn-grinds 13. Sec note on p. 8. and

^P inte»! 57. 2.

cf. Windisch S.V. grinne (ij. cet-

^K faHMldacb W17 áilighifMl. 4T.

grianx gl, neclar, KZ. 33. p. 70.

ín-ihilwl aM; /n^. 66. 26,

IntBinm? 53, 1.

' be would expend ihe fitst paroiyini

ires moling, gen. iressa 4a. 10.

of bis rage,' Battle at Migli Ralb.

dobkj hiics (.i. comdál) leis do Gal-

p. 348. 24.

hib. TMhm. Em. luid dochum a

Ó0I n. drinking. 13. _^H

írtndoGaUaíb.ib. inhcmsinalu,

LL. sea. 33. in-ams dá)a, LU.

pun n. a pound. 53. 3. S. 21. 22. ^^H

73». 15. in-aiiiiis dáln. LU. 124b.

22.

nnum (1) 1 tange {1). Teris6i. reras ^^^|

isal seifflH ij. 37. issa gL qiioniia.

43. ^H

MLgocS. CCua.oU.

rtU r. battlifield. ace. pi. rói 55. ^^H

ran m. a aal. 54. odbatón, h. TeUe ^^H

^H i^tgLiallUjiM} Bcc. pLWggaji,

p. 3S- ^H

^^ Ifath-glwrmiiach fnr,- aW A-v "J ''

^H ■MW'l «MX, ?o. SO.

sainigtbe distinguisied. 43. S. ^^^H

^B UftMxrtd n. <iM«. 65. dogtfna dub-

scandal n./f«i'. 48.7. gen. im clium- ^^H

^H buittariud dia coipaib, LBr. 958b.

lulb ti-guscandail. Lawe l. p. 174, ^^H

^1 «S.

^^B iaauaatii.)acl>ch(». gen. luimne 51.

secot^t na n^idliUhcadb ? 64, 10. 81. ^^H

^^L 90. S3. See AÍ5I. Mac. CongL s.v.

selou rv^. 67. 33. 7D. 11). ^^H

^^K U luDuUnJ i» a (oci. FM. vol. L p.

■.idan i/ndnr 59. ^^H

50-gná4 r. fliij/f cumfany. ace. sog- ^^^^|

^^^B Cdl. XV. p. 453. 4. ib. 6.

n&l»5>- ^H

^^^■UÚI-lj^ n, a vi^oreui lying. 51.

suirge tMw/n^. 63. 17. Cf. suirg! .i. ^^H
sunrcus. Ul esl : ^^^1
- robr suirgi saor nr scilg ^^^|

H. 3 IB, p. 46S. ^H

^^^MHdn m. dog. 67, 32. See matia.
^^L AEA Meic Congl. Indei.

^^^HnAh-CTElh sefl-v«utd. S.

^^KlBdilUiii/i^«*.inD/A> m4ithre53.

^^^^ten IrUk.ftal, iport. gen. pi. Mag

taeb-iram hig^Uiid. 61. 3. ^^|

^^K Moo 14. HMD .1. del, LL. i86b,

uiieim /i-tfuu. laircet 14. CT. lair- ^^^|

^^H ». Cora. p.

gedh .i. (eocbt a coming OHwarJ, ^^^^^t

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

r. OC UlrcHi», Rc«. CelL )
P.ÚB, 12.
lebUdud t 67. SO.

■ogiuuii ('to-to-gniun) itrviit. tulf. 87,

12. Cf. losiumach.
láib-ci^l xMitt-tidtá. f. nuucin Ethni

tWigile. Tri|^ IJfc. 480, 2.
lODd-an n. wavt-netUinf (Germ, tm-

gmttlmMiU). 4.
lonoach twiHuf. 56, 18,

llr Irédais turmgire, Stlva GmI,

Seen
iriUch atvanding in fiocki. 87. II. a

I ■"I'"" 15. See nMc OD p. 38.
uirgiU i^ac4. KlOmKur. 6S, 2S. Siln

G«l. a6o. 24. For Br-CiiigolL

Uifuighioll, M07 l.eana p. 44.

uirigill, CDon. SuppL ^

ule-Klai alt-Hnt. gm. ■{, 1

bUÍíiS.

INDEX OF PERSONS

n oT the King of Con<
:ht. 68. 19. 25.

I mac GabriÍD, King of ttie
h Dolriaila ; 4a, 3. (. 6.

lir: 84, 18. 85.17.

mac MuTEhCTtaig, fnlhcr of
A FiDn : 5a, 20.
■i 84. 1Í.
aWelshman; 84, 13. 85. 17.
ic Fcbail ; passim.

c Echocli, King ot Ldn-

o( Finn : 48, 17.

nib; of Fiocbna; 51. 8$.

: mac Marcdin, Mongin's
""rr; 56, 18.
ia, mother of Dub Locha : 86,

:ilfnn, father of Kechtaii ; £3. 65.
< '.lum Cflle I 87. 4, 88. S.

C01WU186, ao.

Coochobur ; 86, 6.

Connac Ciem : 85. 3.

Cuinine : 67, 31. C. Cúlllalh 7D. 23.

in Dam ; 61, Í.

Deoimiii. f3liier of Fiicbna Dub : 61.

B. 15. 30,
Dlarraail (m.ic Cerballl or Ceirbeúil) :

55, la.

I>uli-L3chK Ldiragel, wife of Mon^
gin ; 58. 1«. 6i, 9. 86, 18,

Eocbaid Airgthccb, see Folhad Airg-

dccb.
Eogan mac NéiD ; 58, 21.
Kolgarg MOT mac Magair, King of

Norway ; 58. 23,

Fedlimid ; 87, E. 88, 18.

Flathna, si-Flachnie Lurgn 4a, 3-
7. 43. 10. F. I,m-gan, 84, 18. 83-
T-FlachnaFind mac BáEliiin - 5^'

So. 59, 3. 6t. la,

Flnchna Dub mac DemmjUn ■ 61. ^

15. sa

Find mac CamaiU; 45, 28, 48. *■ ^^

17. 19. 20.
FlndiÍBcmd, wife of Mongin ; S*- '"
Forgoll fill ; 46, 1. 6. 4B, 2. 53. !**•
Folhad Airgdfch ; 45, 20. 46, *■ 47<

22. 48, 0. I2-E«cb£id Airgtbecb»

48, 16.

^M 98 THE VOYAGE OF BRAN ^^^^^

Flachnn Find, 60. 31. Mongan

^B king of Munsler ; 68. IT. 2S.

mac Ffachnii Ln/gon. 84. 18. 8^, 7.

^B inand mac Flachach ; 85, t.

Muirrdach mac Eojain ; «. 21.

^H MaclnDaii>i;6i,0. 63. 20. SO.

^H Uagu. father of EcAgarg ; 53. 23,

NcchUn mw C<da>nUn: 63. Cj.

^M 60. 33. as. W. MoniDDan, 50. S7-

RóalamiicTúuluU: 85.8.

^M 43.13. Mononn moccu Urn. 51.

^H MoFoUi, Ciiher of Cairttiidc ; 56, U.

■npraiw. sacHt ODe Cmlin ; &4, Si

^M MonfEbi Hue PlRchnal ; 3a. 49, a. 43.

IS. SO. etc ^H

^H 3 «U., 65, 1G. MongA» Find mac

""""""" 1

B INDEX OF PLACES AND TRIBe|^|

^H Airclh«h JÍ

Cnocc Mn* <;3. & ^^|

^^T Allx f. Seol/aaJ. po. AIInUI 5. (lot.

ConnaiTlit Cai.na«gkl. M, 19. 35. I

^V Albe 43, 8. Albx 48. 0. Allnin

^H 4>, 3. G3, 81

Dublhar Lagen 46. 0. 48, 1. 1

^1 Arada. MX. Anulu 47. 8.

Dimut Grinnll 53. 0. 131 J

H Bcndchor &«M-; dal. Bendcbur
■ U.S.

^^ ieAt a* Bamm. dat Ocrbi 47, ».
^K Dúwd L tkt B*yitt. du. Di^d 47,

E<b<iJr|NccIiair?)47.». ^^H
Emninj. ^^^H

Emne la 19. ^^^^M
'Eiiii t /mrAi»/. as 63. 65. ^^^H

^^1 B»I*inAl«iMAMi(/r>yr««iu]. gEn.

Fo»cn Moo»» 47.0- ^^H

^H Bmuio,8&

Ildailucb 94- ^^^H

'He lihy. 5& 84. 8L ^^^H

^H Comic Eolalrs, on UxiO, Foytc. 87

Imcbiúin »0. at. ^^^H

^H S. (1. W. 27.

Inu butjnl 61. 6^ ^^^^|

^H C«U Camáin ; 64, S. B.

^H Cenil-TIn ConftVr. 84, 32.

UbriniM, a rirat in m. Kony. jJPJB

^H aain 13.

Uitln Uinittr. gta. Ufca A***^

^H CUi»la Alnblt Sj. I.

48. L (tel. Ui(iubaAe.fi4.& I

INDEX OF PLACES AND TRIBES

e rivet Launi, eo. Kerry.
47- 7.
I Liomuig 49. Sec Mag IJne.
L Lodi FeUtil UmsA Foylt. 88. 2

■ Latgnib ;

Macboire Cille Ca
64.5.

Mag Aiggalnft 8,

Uag Findarggal 5.
, Mag Ufe ; 64, 4.

"" gLine; 4a. 9. 4S^30■
I Mag Meld ; 39.
I Mag Moo i 14. 33. 35.

MaglUm; 14.

MiÍD, a rivei in co, Keny. 47, 4.

Mnmnf.^Mi/fr. gen. Munian47, B.

[ Nllb. a river, 47. 10.

Samáir. Iht Momingilar rivtr. 47, 8.
SaailQ Ike Saxons, ace Saxanu 43.

S. gen. Saxon 6a, 32.
SenUbor ; dai, Scnkbuir 58.
SllhCnuiccBáne; 53,11.
Síth Lethet Oidni ; S3. 2. 7. 13.
SimrlktSuir; 47, 8.
Srub Brain : 64. See nole on p. 3a,
Sruthair Lelhel Oidni ; 53. 8. 22.

Tlr inna m-Ban ■ 30. 60.
T(r Timgaire ; 87, U. 88, 20.
Tond Clidna ; 85. 23.
Tráchl Eótlioiii Ttavtohtlty, co.
Sligo; 85,24.

UiFidgime;47. 8.

Ui NiiU ; 89, 2.

Ulaid UUttr; gen. Ulad, 59, 4, cle.

THE HAFFY OTHERWORLD fN rilE ArTitUj»

BOMASnC LTTERiVTURE Oy ."[££ :iftz^X-

THE CELTIC DOCTRI.VE /i- j.iLsííU:i\t.

AN ESSAY IN rvO SliTíi.u^

BY ALFRED U;

l-rrr

SECTIGM :

THE hap:^v </r:íE;í..vv.fe.;

EUEEB^- C CLEAVE: ASt IAUC^ KfiEGAK

PREFACE

In the first two chapters of this Ínvesti^tion its purport and
scope are set forth, I trust, with sufficient fuhicss and clearness.
But a few words may be advisable concerning niy method of
presenting and discussing the facts which are here, for the i
first time, laid before the English reader. There exists no
history of Irish literature ; but little of the prelimmary work
of research has been accomphshed, and that httle is mainly
the work of one or two men, and lacks the sanction of a
general consensus of expert approval. The student cif any
aspect of Irish anliquity must thus form his own theory as to
the date and mutual relation of the hterary monuments
whence our knowledge of that antiquity is derived. The
prominence of literary -historical criticism in the following
pages was thus inevitable, and may, I trust, he imputed to me
rather as a virtue than a defect. If for no other reason my
studies may claim some consideration as a contribution,
however small, to the ' Vorarbeiten ' for a history of Irish
legend and romance.

When an authoritative account of the growth of Irish
literature is lacking, when a byman, like the present writer,
has lo frame working hypotheses for himself, his results must
necessarily be tentative. Far from minimising, I would rather
emphasise the hypothetical nature of these studies. I can.

lOá

THE HAPPY OTHERWORLD

however, assert that I have used some diligence in coUectii^
illustrative material, and such skill as I possess in discussing
ils NÍgnilicancc. I may at least hope that, in bringing to the
notice of Irish and English students facts and theories novel
to many of them, I am making straight iho way for more
fruitful study.

In the Irish portion of my work I liave followed largely in
the footsteps of Professor Heinrich Zimmer, and of Mons. H.
d'Arbois de Jubainville, both of whom had previously collected
and discussed the larger part of the literary material. Such
additions as I have been able to make are from the vaiious
translations of Irish texts issued by Mr. Whitley Stokes —
thanks chiedy to whose labours it is that an Englishman can
form a fair idea of early Irish literature— by Professor Kuno
Meyer, and by Mr. Standish Hayes CGrady. To Professor
Kuno Meyer I owe a special debt of gratitude botli for
[Jemiiiting me to be associated with him in the present work,
and for invaluable assistance freely granted whilst my pages
were passing through the press.

In literary-critical questions I have chiefly relied upon
Professor Heinrich Zimmer. I have so often expressed my
admiration for the work of this brillianl scholar, as well as my
strong dissent from many of his conclusions, that I need hoc
only urge such of my readers as arc desirous of making a
serious study of Celtic antiquity to acquaint themselves at
first hand with his investigations.

In the non-Irish portions of my work my task has been so
greatly facilitated by the labours of two Gcmian scholars,
Erwin Rohdc and Albert Dietrich, as to require special
ad(nowtc(^;ment. The recently published works of L.
Schurmann, H. Oldenlrcrg, Paul Foucart, and Err
have also bctn of tlie greatest asslilaDDc to me.

PREFACE

My position is that of a layman setting forth, co-ordinating,

and discussing, the results arrived at by experts. But althougi»

chiefly dependent upon the labours of others for my facts, 1 have

andeavoured to test and to control every theory based upon

1, no matter how eminent its author might be, nor have I

esitated to withhold assent where my judgment refused it.

I certain cases, being wholly incompetent, I have had to

f accept statements, and deductions from these statements,

I'lQKm authority Che best I could command, but as a rule I

WTC verified every fact with such diligence, 1 have tested

erery hypothesis with such critical acumen, as I possessed. I

We had to express diss^eemenl with scholars of the first

1 no case, 1 trust, rashly or presumptuously. And

t am sure every true scholar will forgive me for disregarding

thority, however weighty, when it conflicted with results at

a I had arrived after long and anxious deliberation.
i have to thanlc Miss Margaret Stokes and my friend Mr.
[ Jacobs for reading some of the proofs of this study, and for
I xaaay valuable suggestions,

I have dedicated these pages to the memory of two men,

I Jldther of whom I knew personally, but from both of whom

L J have received, during many years, most valued advice

] encouragement. There is, I venture to think, some

ropriateness in this dedication. Both were impassioned

i of Gaelic lore and letters ; both again were priests

' the Christian Church, one an Anglican, one a Roman.

i fitting that this essay to trace the origin and record

growth of conceptions, partly pagan, partly Chris-

, the preservation of which is so largely due to the

tolerance of Irish Christianity and to the love of its ministers

: the legendary past of their race, should be hallowed by

i of men, worthy followers of the cleric scholars,

loS THE HAPPY OTHERWORLD

antiquaries, and bards, to whom we owe the compibtion
and transmission of «irly Irish lilerature.'

I append a list of the works I quote in an abbremtcd
forai. Other references are given with sufficient fulness to
enable identification of ihe works cited. Roman numerals
immediately following the title indicate the page. I have
essayed to make my references full enough to enable any
student to follow and verify my statements and deductions.
ALFREU NUTT.

' Mr (Icdicatiiin wu dcciiled upon, and ihc whole of Ihc pTCWHt
votume, iRcluttini; i!ie ptcficc, wai dral^c<l Iwtorc tiijr fiiend Di. Ilydc'i
Sloty of Eailjr Gidic Liicnttuie came into my boodi. Di. Hfde'f
(IcdialioD is the sunc u mine : hctc and that, «i^nions «bich I have
cipreucd nocin the xijipoit o( his aulharity. I canoot bn
nr]rH.-lf npuD llie UDcleMgneU coiDciJencc.

[ST OF WORKS QUOTED IN AN ABBREVIATED
FORM

All references to Professor Zimmer, without other

to bis article entitled : fCeltiscke Beitragi, II, :

Brendtttfs Meerfahrt^ contained in the Zeiischrift fiir

deuisches Alterthum. VoL xxxiii., Heft i, 3, 4, Berlin,

I ZlUMEK, LU. The reference is to Kelliscke Studien V. : Ueier

dim compilalorisehcn Clutrakier der iriscken Sagentexte

iiH sogennantin Lebor na h-Uidhre. Zeilschrift fiir ver-

gleichende Sprachforschung. Vol. xxviii.. Heft 5, 6.

Gutersloh, 1SS7.

Revue Cekique. Vols, i.-Kvi. 1, 2. Paris, 1869-189;.
\ MC Ob the Manners and Customs of the Ancient Irish- A

series of Leciures by E. O'Curry. 3 vols. London, 1873.
I Ms. Mat. Lectures on the Materials of Ancient Irish History.
1 By Euiiene O'Curry. Dublin, 1861.

I SlLVA Gad. Silva Gadelica (Í.-xxxi.), A collection of Tales in

Irish, with extracts illustrating Persons and Places.

Edited from MSS. and translated by Standish H(ayes;

O'Grady. 1 vols. London, iSgi.
UTING. The History of Ireland firom the earliest period to

the English Invasion. Translated by John O'Mahony.

New York, 1866.
FODK Masters. Annals of the Kingdom of Ireland by the

Four Masters. Edited by John O'Donovan. 7 vols. 4I0.

Dublin, i8;i.
jpss. Soc Transactions of the Ossianic Society. Vols, i.-vi.

Dublin, 1854-61.
PVaifs and Strays. Waifs and Strays of Celtic Tradition.

Argyllshire series. Vols, i.- v. London, 18C9-9S,
ioLK Lobe. A Quarteriy Review of Myili, Tradition, Custom

and Institution. Vols, i.-vi. I, a. London, 1890-95.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

Scope anil purport of ihe InvoUgukin— IntroOuclory >k«ic)i of Irith
bUlor? as prraenled in the lilcralure — Prc-Milcsinn. Milmiaa and
Heroic periodi — Pml-Heroic pre-Christian period — latroluciioD
of Chriitianitf — Siioh and seventh century Uietalure — Viking
period — ^Renaissance of Irish litemlure-^MS. tradition atikl lin-
guistic evidence of datf>— Christian efcntoil in the Heroic lagaa
—Influence úf the Viking period upon Irish sIorT-K:Llkng— Iriih
mflhologitxil cycle — Cnlica! principla lo be followed,

CHAPTER II

tub conception of the happy ottlerworlji in ]
brak's voyage

The Vojvse of Ehin, «mititiiBni dementi and leading coocepliea* —
Tl»e Hitppjr Othamxld— The Dontine of Rebinh-^inu and
Method of Ibe initatli^ion — Linpxlitic evidouo ■* to ttu> mge
o( Urao'i Vopgc— lliiioritnl evidence oi '

hlHorlcal eiidaice— Evidence dra<
Irish teit— Sonnning up of the Ilafipy
found la Bran's Vcrngc.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER III

TBE CONCEPTION OF THE HAFPV OTRERWORLD IN
PARALLEL TALES OF A MYTHIC CHARACTER

Bhraltel tales : (i) Echtra dindla or the Adventures of Cnnnla,
snnuiiHrj of Ihe story, discussion of its dale, compsrison with
Bran's Voyage — (i) Oisin in the Land of Youth, summary of the
itot7. discussion of its dale — (c) Cucbulinn's Sick Bed, summary
of the slory, discussion of dale, comparison nilb B[a.n and

CHAPTER IV

EARLY ROMANTIC USF. OF THE CONCEPTION OF THE
HAPPY OTHEKWORLD
ama or Oversea Voyage liiGralure— The Navigalio S. Bren-
^-The Voyage of Maelduin— Professor Zimmcr's views con-
oenung the development of this literalure — The points of contact
between Maeldmn and Bran : (a) the wonderland of Ibe amorous
queen ; (Í) Iheislnnd of imitation — Summary of these episodes in
Madduin. comparison with Bran, discussion of relation between
ihc two M'orks— The portion common to both works independent
of «ach other, similarity due to use of (he sanie material —
Fealures common to all the stories bitbcrto considered,

CHAPTER V

i Tfae wonderland of Ibe hollow hfU— The borne of the Tualba de
Danann— The Tnchmarc Elaine, or Wooing of Etain. summary
of «lory— Theielalionof Ihe Hollow Hill to tbeOversea Elysium
— Eipatilion and criiicism of Professor Zimmer's views — Lae-
gaire mac Crimthaion's Visit to Faery, summary of story,
discussion of date, luodiGcntion of older conceptions, possible
ioBuence of SeandÍDRviau Walhalla. ,.,,,.

THE HAPPY OTHERWORLD

CHAPTER VI

LATEK DIDACTIC AND ROMANTIC USE OF THE CON-
CEPTION OP THE HAPPV OTHERWORLD
Didaciic uie ol the Othcrworld txaurpúoD—BaÍlt an StaU (the
ChampioD'i Ectiiaj), iunimary and d[uuuion or story — Connao
iDoc Art ID Farrj, saaiiaary aod disctissJon of sIory'—Tbe
Happy Otberworld in the Osinnic cycle— The Tim ClUaa
rpbode of Ibe A^allamh oa Scooracli^ compnrÍHin uith the
dixnsAeneÁai of Tonn Clldiui and Tung tntiir — TIw tMiitd
epaode in Ibe Agnllainti iu> Stnorach— Ttie altritnitc of sixaotic
stature in the OssUnir cycle— The Advenluna of Tagae, non oí
Cian, sumnkvy Anil diacossion of Ktory — The Viilon uf Mae
CongIinn>r

CHAPTER VII

FRAOUBNTARy INDEPKNUENT PRKSE.VTMENTS OF TUB
HAPPY OTHERWORLD CONCEPTION
The Eiklta f/trai {Non'i Eipodltion into the Otberworld)— The
TaiH W KfgaMma (tbe Raid of Rrtoxii»'' Kinc|~Aiici]> of the
Drngh uid the ConqueM of the Siil. Tho ÍiniuttiulHU of
Uag m-Dief; — The tUiuulUttcliat of Sinaoti — The áimniifttliai
of Boann— The íinHiMeailiM of l.och Oaman— Tha Awa-
iJkHCaai of Slinb Foait— The aimuAtaUiu «f HndlOGli Cm, .

CHAPTER VIH

THE IRISH VISION Ot THE CURI3TIAN HXAVEN

Ttw Fli Aásminia lAiUmnoo't Vis

The Tldlnp oi DoonmUy— The fourfold divWon of t)w trkh
ChtUtliui tunoe wocld— iWaour Ziiiuncr'i n;JaiulÍDa of (1
lerm Hr Uirmfiri.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER IX

TH& DEVELOPMENT OF THE IIAl'l'V OTHKKWOKLU II
IRISH LEGEND

B two types, their relalion — The tatama lllernturo— Relation lo
Cbriitian lilerature — ModificalÍoiudDe to the Rimainano: period
— Post ReaacB5iuic« devclopmenl — DJdaclic anJ froo romunlic
timdenc]' — Conclusion: inadequacy tí Ibe hypotliois of Kiln
n origin for stories of llie Bran lype, ....

CHAPTER X

HON-IStSH CHRISTIAN AND JEWISH ANAUHJUES Of THE
llAPPy OTHERWOHLD

LB Pbtenin episode in Maclduin— The AngJo-Soion Hio-nix oiiid
and discosscd— The Cbriiilan Apocalypses : ihc Kevulaiion of SI.
John, the Revelation of Peter, the Visio Paoli. the VliJon of
Sntunia, Barlanm, and Josapbnl— The second Sibyllinif—'nielotl
Ten Tribes— Hie Book a\ Enoch— KelallMt of Christian to
Classic eschalology 33

CHAPTER XI

CLASSIC ACCOUNTS OF THE HAPPY OTHERWORLD

» — Rohde's view of ihe Homeric Hades and of the developtacnt
of Uie Elysium conception in Greece ; objections tlicrcio — Hesiod
— Early mythical aJlutíons — Pindar— The Periclean age — VarTtng
accounts of Elysium as outerworld and uadcrwiirld — Romantic
Mid didactic use of ihe conceptions. Hyperbarenna, later localÍ5a>
lion of Ihe marvul land in India— Lucian—Greek the maia source
of Christian eschalolosical descriptions— Parallel between Greek
anil Irish b:iysiani nunance— Roman development of Greek
bdief— Scnoriua anil St. Dmndaa — Horace^-Claudian— Tt
11

114 THE HATPy OTHERWORLD

Vcrgiliui UiopLt and Elyaam — Surnmafy or classic devclopmcni
of Ibe concsptíDQ — Irish accounl rdaltvl loeu-Ua- atftgo— 'llic ftcc
love clenieni in Ibe Irish accounti— Tbc chaitily Ideal in Classic
Uimuun! — PanHcl of ihc bniuki mftitologiol eleniaiu Id Gredi
and liisti literature

CHAPTER XII

SCANDINAVIAN, IRANIAN, AND INDIAN ACCOUNTS OP }
THB HAPPY OTHSKWOKLD

SGandinarian mythknl literatare, dxle and talatloo to ClaMíc anil
Chriitian lilemlure — Praminenee of cschatoloipcal element In ibe
olGciiJ lUfthoLof^ — Viilont of the fUppy Olbawothl id lata
ranuinllc lilmlurc: Enc Ihc lar-lravelird: Hclffc Tlwreion;
ThoiklU iml Uuthorm; Multllng- KfiftKTg-i tbeorr of
OJaiauttr — lianLu mfth of Vimii'i grove — Iranian ocoounlS
of ParadlK Htul Heavm — Darmesleler on dale and composition
ol tbc AiaM, — Vcdic accounts — Posl-Vedic Indian mcdianoJ
accoiinU-'Oldmtjeri! on ilie Indian hdRn— Chrooologicat view
of the lloppj Utbrrworld conception in the literature of tbc
Aiysn nuc : proUenu raised thereby ; neceiaijr of iiudyiag ibe

END OF SECTION I

CHAPTER I

THE HISTORICAL AND LITEBARV-HISTORICAL BACKGROUND

TO bran's voyage

Scope ajid purport of the invciligation — Introductory sketch of Irish hictoij
as presented in the literalure— Pre- Milesian, Milesian, and Heroic periods
— Post-Heroic, pre-Chrislian period — Introduction of Christianity — Siilh
and seventh century lilerxture — Viking period — Renaissance of Irish
literature— MS. tradition and linguistic evidence of dale— Chrijiian
element in the Heroic sagas — Influence of the Viking period apon Irish
story-telling — Irish mythological cycle — Critical principles to be followed.

I PURPOSE in the following pages to discuss the origin, de-
velopment, and nature of the old Irish story printed and
translated into English for the first time in this volume. I
think it advisable to preface my examination of the story by
some general con sidcra lions upon early Irish literature.
My investigation ia based upon texts which cannot be later
than the eleventh century of our era, and may be as early
as the eighth or seventh century, in the form under which
their substance has come down to us. They are the product
of the belief and fancy of the Irish race during the period
lying between these two dates at all events. Possibly, nay
probably, they derive from a far earher period. They are
also the result of historical conditions and influences to
■which the Irish race was subject, down to the eleventh
century at the latest. They furin part of an extensive li

ii6 PREMILESIAN PERIOD

turc, preserved to later ages under conditions which yield
useful dews to its origin, nature, and mode of development.
It will be desirable, at the outset, to briefly indicate the his-
torical background to this literature, as well as the critical
problems involved in the consideration of its extant forma.
1'he traditional antials of the Irish race, the main outlinci of
which were fixed by the eleventh century at the very latest,
offer a convenient framework for this preliminary sketch of
Irish history and literary history.'

pRE-MiLEsiA» Period.

The Irish annals start the history of the country with a series
of immigrations or invasions, resulting in wars between the
various invading races, and in the final dominance of tlie sons
of Mil over Ireland. The version of this series of events
which has come down to us is certainly as old as the early
eleventh century ; its main outlines are presupposed or de-
finitely indicated in poems of the tenth century, and a Urge
portion was known to the South Welsh chronicler, KcnnJus,
writing at the close of the eighth century.^ In this, the oldest

' The groi sercDiecalh ceniary compllftilon, ihe AniuU of ihe Foor
Mulen, g3thcn up all that seemed moit valuaUe ami mosl truitivonbj
in ihc uldct AddaIi to Michael O'Cleiy and his fellows. Bui Íi hu the
iliu<lvBnta{:e for a tludent of myihic and tietmc siga of foiltwinK Ihe tine
ntilie High Kine* of Irclanil, luiil ne^'eclinj; Ihe pcuvindal Kinct. Il
Ihiu bstppcni Ibal iQrne of Ihe uldcil and moil eilcnaite cjc\e% of heroic
aga, which liare lefi their ini{itcii mo*t deeply on IiUh lítcnluie are
■ImuM unrepinoiteil 1^ the Four Maitcn. because the; centre aioond
piuvinciai kin;). In thii te>i<ect Koltag'i Iliilur; of Ireland, « com-
pdauon of the unie |iciiod, is of far mote value. Keaiing loted rooiaace
■Jul a tlirring Ule.

* Ct ^tnmn, Nenniiu viodicatut, BeiUn, iSi)j, pp. 116 il ny. Of In

Ihe middle ul the ninth centuiy if Piof. Thuracy^en'i V'iew (ZclL L

dnilMihe Phdoloicic, xaviii-) be picfeitcd.

MILESIAN AND HEROIC PERIOD 117

dated form, we can discern signs of Biblical and classic
influence. If the traditions belong, in the main, to a period
anterior to the contact of Ireland with Christian -classic culture,
they have, nevertheless, been modified and added to as a result
of that contact. As a whole, these traditions wear a marked
mythical aspect ; it was dimly perceived in the tenth and
eleventh centuries, and has been contended with increasing
definiteness from that time to the present day, that they con-
tain the pre-Christian mythology of the Irish, cast in a pseudo-
historic mould, and adapted to the exigencies of Biblical and
classic chronology. The most authoritative exposition of this
contention is that of M. d'Arbois de Jubainvitle in his Cycle
Mythologique Irlandais (Paris, 1884); it holds the field at
I present, but it cannot be said to be established beyond cavil.
I The present investigation may, it is hoped, form a contribution,
1 definite if small, towards the final settlement of the questions
liCODnected with the mythological traditions of Ireland.

Milesian and Heroic Period.

After the establishment of the sons of Mil in Ireland the

I annals mention a number of events, of which little trace can

be found in subsequent tradition, until we come to the stories

relating to the foundation of Emania, the chief centre of Ulster

for many centuries, by the Amazon Macha, assigned to the fifth

century before Christ.' It is noteworthy that the most critical

I and learned of the Irish scholars of the tenth and eleventh

I centuries, to whom we owe the extant annals, Tigemach,

\ looks upon the Monumenla Scotorum, previous to this date, as

'inctrta' From this time onwards we meet personages who form

the centre of small cycles of story-telling, thus Loegaire Lore

' Keating, 345 ; MS. Mat. 517 (Iranslating from a prose siory in the

I Book of LeÍDsler, which ts based upon a poem of Kochnld bua Flaino),

118 MILESIAN AND HEROIC PERIOD

(a.k. 4608), Labraid Loingsech ' (a.m. 4667), until we come
down to the period immediately preceding and coinciding
with the life of Christ. Connaire Mor, high king of Ireland
at this lime, is the subject of the famous story entitled ' Togail
Bruidnc di Derga,' the destruction of Da Derga's fort, in
which his death at the hands of oversea pirates is descrilied.^
But the story-tcUing connected with this period is chiefly
concerned with Conchobor Mac Nessa, king of Ulster, and
his champions, pre-eminent among whom is Cuchulinn, /i;r-
lissimus heret Seolorum, as TÍgernach stjies him, ihe greatest
heroic figure GaeHc imagination has produced, and one not
unworthy to be placed by the side of Rustum and Petseus, of
Sigfried and Dietrich. His exploits and those of his peers
form the Ultonian cycle, the roost considerable and valuable
monument of Irish heroic romance.* The Ulster heroes ate

' KcMine, 350-157 ; MS. Mat. i&i ; MC. ÍÍ. 356. It nuty tic neccukry
to (talc thai the Iriih onnaliili foUinwcd ihc Scpluagint chnmolog;;.

* Snminatiicd liy ;i[nimei, LU. 554-588; cf. MC. iii. 136-150. An
edilion, will) translation \ij Ilennesiy, was left unfiniilied at hli death. I
have a id of the proof-ibGcti.

• The Tain W Cuailfnt, the chief le»t of the UlKmian cycle, is
íuroniariíeJ by ZimiriLi, LU, 443-475 i «f- MC. iL faiiim. The Ce^ftrt
C., ur C.'t Conception, ha) liccn cdiled and lianslaled liy M. L. Duvaa,
R. C. ix. ; the Mtiea Uiaá, or tntaxicuion of the Ultoniana, b which C.
playaa {xominent [iirt, hai iKen edited and Iruiiialed 1>y Hcnneu^, Todd
Lectuiu, ii. i the i'ttkmart Smen, or C'l Wooine of Kaicr, lias been
translated liy Piofcuoi Kuno Meyer (the vulgalc veiuac, Aich. Rrncw, L :
the older, ihortei version. It. C xi.|i Ihe S^'gligr C.orC.'sSick Bed.
hai been cdilcil EUid tmntlated tiy O'Cuny, Altanll*, (i. ill i C.S Death
Scene boa t>ecn edited acd tnuislaloJ by .Mi. Whilley Sioko, R. C UL ;
ibe Fight of C. and Ferdiad si the Ford, the culminaiiag episode of the
Tain 6Í Cuailgnt, hu been tianslaied by O'Cuny, MC. iil. 416-463.
For the gcncnl reader, the t>cst idea of the iicnpc and tone of the
Ultonian cycle nay be oI>taÍncd frooi Mr. Standtsh cyGrady'a llictoty oj
IreUmii i Heroic Periud.

serv

[POST-HEROIC PRE-CHRISTIAN PERIOD iig

the earliest, assuming the correctness of the annalistic chrono-
logy, who still live in popular tradition; about Cuchulinn
himself, about Conall Cernach, and about the sons of Usnech,
stories are told to this day by the Gaelic peasants of Ireland
and Scotland.' From this date onward, however, the pre-
servation, not only of small episodes, but of well-defined

icles, by the folk-memory, is of frequent occurrence. An-

ler point should be noted. I» the Connaire Mor, in

Ultonian, and in several later cycles, personages of the

lythological cycle to whom the annals have assigned a
definite date and a quasi-historical aspect, appear as frankly
supernatural beings.

Post-Heroic Prk-Christian Period.

In the first century a.d., Tuathal Techtmar, high king of

Ireland, is the hero and starting-point of the considerable

body of historic romance connected with the imposition of

the Boroma tribute upon Leinster, the struggles of that pro-

i| vince to be rid of it, and its final abrogation in the reign of

^^Rnachta at the end of the seventh century.' In the second

^^■Sntury, Conn, the Hundred-fighter, is the centre of an ex-

^Hpisivc cycle, dealing mainly with his wars against Mog

I^Tluadat of Munster, and the consequent partition of Ireland

■ A coQlempoiary oral veision of Ihc Tain be Cuaitgnt, as mnEDt in

Inverness-shire, Celtic Magaiinc, xÍiL ; Connll CeniBch'i Vengeance

upon Cuchulinn's Slayers torms ibe subject of □umerous ballads, cf. Ltab

«n Fcinnt, 15 ; an admirable oral version of the Fale of tlie Sons oF

Umech was printed by Mr. A. Cannichael, from tecilation in the High-

lands, in Ihc Celtic Magazine, xiii., whence it has been reprinted with stigllt

changes in Mr. Jacobs' Celtic Fair; Tales.

' The Bamma has been edited and translated twice, (l) by Mr. Whitley
Stakes, R. C. liii., (3) by Mr. Slandish Hayes O'Gtady, Silvtt Gadelica,
401-424. Cr. my remalks, Folk-Loic, iii. 373.

I30 POST-HEROIC PERIOD

into two portions known as Ltih Mogú and Leth Cuinn. The
sons of both these kings, .Art of North Ireland, AÍlill Olum
of South Ireland, are also centres of heroic cycles, which
coalesce in the stories about the battle of Mag Muccrima
(*.D. igs, according to the 'Four Masters'), stories which still
live on as folk-tales in Ireland and Scotland.' The third
generation is again famous in romance : Tadg, son of Cion,
son of Ailill Olum, being the hero of a number of stories,
one of which we shall discuss later at some length (infra,
pp. aoi-2o8), whilst Cormac, son of Art, is after Conchobot of
Ulster, the most famous king of Irish heroic legend. The
stories concerning his outcast youth and the recovery of his
father's heritage are living folktales to this day,* Cormac is
connected too in the annals with the second great cycle of
Gaelic heroic romance, that which centres around Finn, son of
Cumal, his son Oisin, his grandson Oscar, and the warrion
Goll, Diarmait, and Cailie, as Finn marries Cormac's daughter,
Grainne, and it is Cormac's son, Cairbre, who destroys the
Fianna at the battle of Gabra (a.d. 384, according to the
' Four Masters '), being himself slain thcrc.^

Chr]

riitN Legendary Period.

The next considerable body of storytelling centres aro

■ The Baltic a\ Mi); Muccrima hai litco cililed iiul t
Mi. Whlilcr Siokd. R. C. tui.,in.l Mi. H. H. O'Gmly, Sil>a C
347, For the cantcmpomr)' folk. tain. cS. mj Aryui Eipiiltu
Reluni fonnula imcing the C«lti, Folk<Lor« Kccoiil. ív.

' A utcrul tummary of ihe Cormac itori» ii»y be founil in Kcdm
BftrJie Stofiei, (^ : fot Ibc conteniporary folk-lnlct, cf. my anicle F
Lore Kccmil, it.

' A potin UQ Ihc tfltlllc (if Gabra hat been picKtrci) by the twelfth
coDtury Book of Lcliutcr, wlieoee it tuu been edited ind limprfuwl tiy
O'CwTf, On. Soc L sex

Eodiaid Mugmedoin,' bis son NiaU of the nine hostages, and

his grandson Conall Gulban, from ihe second half of the

founh to the middle of the fifth century,'* With Niall we touch

firm historical ground, and it is in the reign of his son Laegaire

I that Patrick's mission to Ireland takes place. But the

I introduction of Christianity into Ireland is far older than

Patrick. The close connection between South Ireland and

South-west Britain, due to Irish settlements along the coasts

of the Severn sea, and possibly to the continued existence of

a Goidelic population in South Wales, had probably brought

L the knowledge of Christianity into Ltlh Moga as early as the

I middle of the fourth century, and Patrick must be looked

[■ upon as the apostle of North and Western Ireland rather than

I of the island as a whole. But the official reception of

L Christianity by the Irish dates from his lifetime, and although

I Paganism lingered on for many years after his death, especially

I in the West, and probably supplied the motive power of

I events and movements, the bare mention of which is all we

1 find in the annals, the vital energies of the race are hence-

fonh turned into a new channel and hasten to take possession

of the culture which the alien religion brought with it. In

the next three centuries (6th, 7lh, and 8th) the main interest

of Irish history lies in the efforts of the Irish race to organise

I Christianity within and propagate it outside Ireland, and in

I the manifestation of the effect produced upon the Irish world

I by the revelation of Romano-Greek cultiu^e. But stories of

I the same nature as those told of the pre-Christian kings

[continue to be told of their Christian successors. This is the

" Cf. Siiva Gadelica, 368.

* Conall Gulban b better known from the living folk-tale thfto rtom older
I tcxU. Cf. Campbell, Popular Tales, Ui., and my Bilide Folk-I^ie

Ill CHRISTIAN LEGENDARY PERIOD

case with Muirchcrtach ( + 517).' with Diarmait, son of
Cerball (+558),* with Aed, son of Ainmire {+59-J),' all high
kings of Ireland, with Acd Slane, killed óoo A.b.,* with
Mongan, son of t'iachna, an Ulster chief slain 610 A.D.,* with
the Connaught kings Guaire" and Kagallach,' both of the

; MS, Mil. 599.

J : Kealine, 41' : SDva Gad., lee Life of SU

lio 74 ; MC. ii. 33S-337. '"■ '9J-"94-

, ai9; Kc&ting, 446-4^5; MC, ii. 337- J4r ! Sil™

edited

' Foui Masters,

MoUuiuS passim, a
' Four MtstecB,
Gul., 407-438.

• The very remarkable itory coneeraing the Wfth of Aed Slane h»»
been eililed and Iiaiulaled iolo Gcnnao by Profcssur Windisch, Bericble
d. pbil. hist. CkMc d. Kg. Siáxi. Gei. d. WuenKhkft, tS&t ; edited
wfib Etigtith venion io Sil*a Gad., SS. I have nmnuuitol and
mented upon the story, Folk-Lorc, iii. 44.

• Supra, pp. 5Í-86.

• Keating, 434-442. [IC hai aiKedsIed thit king by tome Kveolr
if the nrdinory anluliitic chronoloo be followed, a miitake of the
Udi] 11« that in the 10«, enlitird Mongan'» Vretaj, stifra, p. 57, whtcli
anledalei Mongan in the tame wny. The nijilakc luu arisen apparenlly
by confusioa between Diarniaii, «on of Cerliall, whote ciciih it auieried
by the aonali t» Ibe year 58R, and Diarmail, tan of Acd Slanc, who
reigned according to the Four Mutcri ftom 657 to 664. This Diarmail,
with the nickliaiiie mantiJi, fícucct u (Juairc't <UDteiii(<uruy and
antagonist in the fmtfmentaij annalt, IransUtc<l, Silra Cad., 424 et
Kf., from a lale fifteenth century M.i. The confiuion noted above wm
tadlitaccd by the fact thit Ireland was desolated by tbe yellow plague U
on interval of a Utile over a hunilrcd ycui, each time ia tb« leiKR uf ■
Diannait). Silra Gad., the fragmentary annals jiut died: IbcM an)
probaliy a product of Ibc twelfth century. A fairly good tommary of the
Moriet about Guaire may be found in Kennedy, liantlc Storiet uf Ireland,
IBS ti tij. Kcancdy fullowt Keating in pUcing him la Ib< lixtfa,
llidead of In the tcTenlh century.

' Silva GAdelicB, the alreirly dted fmgmentary annala. R. ii tbe hrio
of at early an eiample of the folk-tale theme of the father wbii «ithed to
marry hi* daughter at any known In poti-claMlc Eurii[>ran liteniturc. 1
hare died and bticdy caramcnled upon ihii ttory in MinCcit'iCifliU

CHRISTIAN LEGENDARY PERIOD 113

seventh century, and with Domnall, son of Aed, son of
Ainmire, who won in the year 634 the battle of Mag Rath,
which forms the subject of one of the most considerable
Irish historic romances extant.* It should be noted, however,
thai although these involve, as already stated, marvellous
elements to fully as great an extent as in the case of the
pre-Christian kings, yet the machinery' is nominally Christian,
some benefit or injury done to a saint being generally the
originating cause of the events narrated in the story. It
should further be noted that a series of tales connected with
Gnaire of Connaught and Senchan Torpeist, chief of the
bardic community, relate to the recovery of the Táin bd
Ctmilgtii, the most considerable monument of the Ultonian 1
cycle,'

ViKISC AND ReNAISSANXE PERIODS.

As compared with the seventh century, which is extremely J
lich in t^es, and in tales of a most varied character, the J

' Edited and Itsnslalcd by J. O'Donovan, 1851. O'D. ussign» ihe late,
in. the faim □□der which ii has come down to us, lo the taller pait of the j
iwelfUi century.

' The story is exlont in Iwo forms : (n) analTected by Christianity [
tepresenled by an episode of the sloiy preserved in Corinacs glossary,
tui voce Pruil, I have cited and commented upon this very rematlcabte
tale, which goes back lo (he ninth century, Wiife and Strays of Celtic
Tradition, ii. 467 ; (i) a Chtislianised version preserved in ihe Book of
Litmore, a fifteenth century Ms., whence il has been ediled and translated,
Ossianio Suclely, v. Mods. d'Artnis de Jubalnville was the Tirst to point
out the foregoing faeti, cf. R. C. viii. 533. Professor Zimmer hat also
discntacd them witli his usual tearching thoroughness, LU. 4:6-440,
cf. Waifs and Strays, ii. 466, It may be worth noting that the Cbtislisn-
bed version betrays the same confusion mpecling the date of Guaiie as
the fragmentary annals Ctanslaledi Silva Cadelica, 424 el siq.

^-ii

134 VIKING AND RENAISSANCE PERIODS

eighih century annals arc meagre in the extreme' At the end
of the eighth century the Viking inroads begin, and for the
next century and a half the annals of Ireland are a monotonous
record of raid and massacre, of destruction of the older seals
of culture, of dispersal of mss. and scholars.^ Learning is kept
alive in South rather than in North Ireland. In the second half
of the ninth century flourishes Cormac, king and archbishop of
Casbel, to whom is ascribed, among other works, a glossary
intended to facilitate the intelligence of older works.* This
still survives and testifies to the existence at that time of talcs
which we still possess and of others now lost. In the tenth
century the Danes, hitherto Pagan, embraced Christianity,
after which the relations between them and the Irish arc
closer and more friendly, and in the late tenth century
the rise of the Munstcr family of Brian, the victor in the
bailie of Cloniarf, marks the close of the Viking period and
the opening of a period of a hundred and fifty years, during

' !□ spile of the fact that auUicotic hiitoncil material bccomci marc
plentiful wilh each century, ihe space devoled by tile Four Mulen to
the dcblh century is only iboul half m'lre llian thu given to the ^ih or
tbe icvenlh century. The Fngnienlx of Annolt, copied by Duolil Mac
tlitít from oldffi wsi. in ihc levenleenth cenluiy, cdiltd and truialnlcd
by J. O'Oonarsn in iS6o, afTord mosi iniitucilve ciamplei of ihe kind of
ronmntic hiíloríc lalei cunnixted with Ihe ilith and MTcntb century
kiny^ It seems no unriMonible conjecture ihal conflict betwrm the new
(allh tinil the older pagan order of ihingi, lulinj; well on inlo Ihe UTenlh
cenluiy, nipplied thaw condiliaiu of suifc and tbotX nfaidi ate alwayi
chiefly inslrumenlal In orlgbuitlt>(; hUluric laga.

' A* Mi» Stokci point) oul lo me, the lettinony of ihe annoli Ii not
borne oul by uclucoli^cal evidence. Archilcctoic and other arts mad«
progteu in thii period.

■ Edited anil trsntlatcd by J. OTIonovan «sd Whliley Stokei^ CalculU.
tSM. Cf. also Mr. Whiliey Stokci' edition of the Bodlciaa ba^cMf
TtBii*. of the rhÍL Soc, iS^I-i».

MS. TRADITION

125

Lvhicli Irish lelters and scholarship revive, the Iritditions of ihe
■ race are collected and systematised, and Irish literature as we
I now possess it takes shape. Prominent among the promoters
lof this revival are Eochaid hua Flanin (+984), Cinaeih hua
I Artacain (+975), Cuan hua Lochain (-1-1024), Flann Manis-
Itrech (-I-1056), Gilla Caemain (-I-1072), and Tigemach
I (+1088).

MS. Tradition of Irish Literature.

How are the writings of these men, how are the tales and

I heroic sagas, to which allusion has been made, preserved to us P

f In MSS. of the eleventh and following cenluries. Now it may

['be taken for certain that no portion of Irish literature was

I written down prior to the introduction of Christianity into

' Ireland. A vigorous and elaborate system of oral tradition

may, nay, most probably, must have prevailed, but the written

text, rigidly conservative in one direction, opening the door in

. another to all sorts of corruptions and confusions, cannot have

[ existed. There is, however, no reason in the nature of things

I why the tales and traditions which profess to deal with the

[ history of Ireland prior to Patrick's mission should not have

( been written down in the sixth century. On the other hand,

I there is no reason for assigning eleventh century texts to an

earlier period, simply because they relate still earlier events.

Examination of the majority of these texts discloses the fact

that if they belong originally to the pre- Viking invasions period

ihey must in their present eleventh century shape have been

added to and modified, as allusions are not infrequent to

scenes, personages, and events of which Ireland was ignorant

before the year 800. But further examination of the language

rather than of the subject -matter of these texts also shows

1 that many of them must have existed long before Lhe date of

L their transcription in the mss. we possess. In the Cinl place,

136

MS. TRADITION

they are frequently glossed, as is the case with ' Bran's Vc^
age,' showing that the elevcnth-centui; scribe felt the need of
exptaÍDÍng bis text, which could not happen if he were its
author ; in the second place, the language presents frequent
traces of having once been written in Old-Irish and not in
Middle-Irish, as would be the case if the stones had been
composed in the eleventh century. In the third place, the
scribes of our mss. profess to copy from much older ones ;
little weight, however, could be attached to this assertion if it
were not borne out by the linguistic evidence. Unfortunately
this docs not carry us so far, nor is it as definite as could be
wished. We possess considerable remaini of Old-Irish in
seventh and eighth century glosses upon bibhcal and classic
writers, and when scholars assert that an eleven th~century text
was once written in as old a form of Irish as that exhibited by
the glosses, we may be confident that it did exist some lime
before the year 800.' But how long before? The historical
study of the Irish language has not as yet prt^resBed ttl
enough to decide with any degree of precision.

Nor does the fact that one eleventh -century text betrays its
original Old-Irish forra.whilst another one does not, nece&sarily
imply that the latter is the younger. The criticisoi of lan-
guage must l>e supplemented by that of subject-mailer before
any such conclusion can be reached. Wiih the exception of
Mons. d'Arbois de Jubainville. Professor Ziiiuner is the only
scholar who has a|>plied the methodx of the higher criticism
to the heroic sagas of the Irish, and he has dune to in a far
more searching manner and on a far brger scale than the
Frenchman.' Taking the sagas pre»crvcd in the oldest Irish

I The oldeit Iiiih {|li>tMS are iraxlble to the Ensliik ttidi
Whitley Stokci' The Otd-Iilih eloun at Wiuilrars and tkiltni

■ In Ihe itudy I cite onilci ihe title LU,

MS. TRADITION i

'The Book of the Dun Cow,' written towards the end of
the eleventh century, he argues strongly for their having been
copied from a compilation made by Flann Manistrech, the
most leained Irishman of the early eleventh century. He
further argues that in making this compilation Flann had be-
fore him different versions, often inconsistent with each other,
which he welded together and harmonised, moreover, that

[ Bome of the originals which he thus used, are represented by
texts found in far younger mss. His conclusions have been

I challenged in delail,^ but may, as a whole, be regarded as as-
sured. Their bearing upon the point I have raised is obvious.
The eleventh and twelfth century mss. may contain anything
from a transcript of the prc-Viking text, made as faithfully as
the habits of the time allowed (that is, with preservation of a
sufficient number of older grammatical and orthographic forms
to demonstrate its Old-IrÍsh nature), to a. complete re-telling
of the story, not only tn the language, but also in the style of
and with the wider knowledge and altered literary conventions
of the later period. Al! stages between these extremes may
be represented, yet the essentials of the story may conceiv-
ably be preserved with etjual fidehty in each stage, and our
judgment as to the age and nature of each story be based, in
reaUty, upon accidental and secondary considerations.

It might be thought that the less or greater admixture of

I the non-Christian element supplied a sure indication of the
a^ of these stories. But this is not so. In this, as in other
things, the Viking period is a disturbing cause, the full effects
of which are by no means clearly defined. On their arrival in
Ireland, and for a century and a half after, the mass of the
invaders were not only pagan, but aggressively and ferociously

I anti-Chrislian. It is more than likely that their advent must
■ By Dr. Ma» Nclilau, li. C %., xÍL, Uii.. u«.

laS

SCANDINAVIAN INFLUENCE

have fanned vhalcvcr lircs may have been slumbering in the
ashes of Irish paganism ; certain, too, that their chieflsins
settling down in Ireland, becoming half Irish, assimilating
the mythic and heroic traditions of the Irish, would form
natural [mtrons for such of the bards or shanachics as still
preserved the saga store of their race in its purest form. Con-
versely, it is at least [Kissible that these bards and shanachics
would learn something of the songs and sagas the invaders
had brought over sea, and that in this way a new non<!hristiati
influence might come to be exerted upon Iri^h tradition.
Professor Zinimer, to whom is due the merit of vigorous
insistence upon the imiwrt of the Viking period for Irish
culture, has endeavoured to trace out a number of cases in
which the Irish liero-tales have been modified by Teutonic
sagas.* I do not thinlc he has succeeded in any of these cases,
and in this opinion I do not stand alone.' But he has placed
the possibility of such influence beyond doubt, and it is one
which must be kept steadily in mind during the present investi-
gation. For wc shall be largely concerned with |x:rson3ge> of
the so-called mythological cycle, the race which, according to
the annals, preceded the son of Mil in Ireland. Now, it is
precisely in texts of this cycle that some of the roost rcmark-
al)le parallels with Scandinavian mythic literature are found.*
Again, we know of these personages not only from Irish saga,

' CWkSj in liii arlicle eblitled, Kcltiichc Beitrigc, t. Gamancn, tie.,
in dtr itteslen UelKiIitrcriing tier itiidien llcldenHigc, contained iaj
voL xiiiiL of the Zcittcliriri fUi dculschc* Allerlhuin, iSSS.

' See my crilldnn, Archacala);ic>l Kntcw, Oclolier iSSt
Bfnat Liehlcnt«rt!ct,*Lc pocnc ct U Ugcndc dei Nibdunpn, Parii, iSOSkH

' £.f. tlie ponUcl Iwtweini ■ puucc is tlie Iblilc uf Moytora, the
moit imporluil text uf the nirtholoGÍcal ryclc, ciUlcd aoJ ttanUalcd \if
Mr. Whlllrr Siobn. K. C. >11. lit, and llw Vulotpa. I fini inH, _

-..ll^nl-m l<. tll^ l<'..lk-I'-.>r IM «.I

SCANDINAVIAN INFLUENCE

' but from a remarkable group of Welsh tales, the Mabinogion
properly so called, i.€, the tales of Pwyll, Branweii, Manawyddaii,
and Malh.' The affinity of these to Irish myth is patent, and
has been explained in different ways, — by prehistoric com-

I munily of mythic conception between the two branches of the

' Celtic-speaking peoples,* or (recently by Professor Rhys),' by
survival of a Goidelic population in Wales, But it is at least
possible, that it is only due to literary influence exercised
during the ninth to the eleventh century by Ireland upon
Wales. It is, then, significant to note that the closest parallel
yet found between Celtic and Teutonic heroic saga is furnished,
s I ijointed out fourteen years ago, by the Mabinogi of Bran-
wen, daughter of I.lyr.* Here, again, I trust the discussion
which follows may be of some aid in solving an obscure and
fascinating problem,

Finally, it is worth consideration that a number of the
eleventh century texts present themselves to us as avowedly

\ defective. The reason for this is not far to seek. The
scholars of the tenth and eleventh centuries gathered together
after the storm and stress of the Viking period such MS.
remains as had escaped the fury of the invaders. In many
cases fragments alone were all that offered themselves, and
they have at times not hesitated to reproduce the fragmentary
condition of their modes. Facts such as these lend strong
support to Professor Zimmer's contention that the criticism of
' Acccisiblc lo the English render in Ladj Charlolte GusM's truislation
i>r \Yie MabiiiogioD.

' This is appaienlly the explanalion favoured by Professor Rhys in his
EilblKcI Lectures on Celtic Heatbcndom, tSS8.

* In u paper on the Twrcb Trwylh story read btfore the Cymmrodarion
and Folk-Lore Societies, to be printed io the Tnuuaclions of the J
Cymmrodorion Society.
' FolkLore Record, vol. v., i8Sa.

ijo CHANCES IN ORAL TRADITION

Irish mythic saga must in the majority ol cases be literary.
Wc arc dealing with a literary product, prc«ervccl 1>y copying
from eatliei into later Mss., rather than with a tradition handed
down orally. Indeed wc cannot fail to notice that often
the compiler or scribe of the eleventh and twelfth centuries'
revival is as much at a Ioks (o rightly understand the older texts
that lay before him as we can be. The very ctumsincirit of tiis
attempts at emendation, (he glaring; nature of the blunders
he was at limes guilty of, are valuable because undesigned wit-
nesses to the archaic nature of the material he has preserved.
Hut the ititluencc of a vigorous oral tradition must not be lost
sight of in manyca±«s. The earliest Irish epic catalogue, which
is certainly as old as the early tenth, and may be as old as the
early eighth century,' numbers 1 70 talcs, and the witness of
texts of almost equal antiquity that a head-poet was rcciuired
to know 350 stories cannot be set aside.'' However rigid the
rules by which the story-teller sought to discipline the
memory of his pupils, stUI, In course of time recitation must
suffer the inDuencc of altered conventions, of wider knowledge,
of richer and more complex social conditions. In estimating
the nature of (he relations which obtain lietween the eleventh
century transcript and the possibly centuries older original,
the inevitable changes in official story-telling must not be left
out of account.

I'hc reader has now I trust some idea how dithcult and
complex a task it is to assign any particular portion of the
Irish mythic or heroic corpus to the age when it first passed
from the oral into the written form, to determine how far the
extant text represents that original, what, if any, have been

■ rrinivil MS, Mit. S&4'S93-

■ Iniroiluclorjt Dale in Ihe Book of Leinitet lo llie ejik eatilopis, MS.

"1.583.

niFFICULTV OF DATING IRISH ROMANCE 131

the luodiUcaCions it has undergon<::, and what the cause of
these modifications. The annalistic framework cannol be
taken as an unerring guide. To cite one instance. Stories are
told of kings assigned by the annals to periods long anlt
dating the era of Conchobor and Cuchulinn, which are
manifestly far more modern in tone and style ihan the chief
tales of the UHonian cycle. Indeed the past history of the
land would seem at one time, and by one school of writers, to
have been looked upon as a convenient frame in which to
insert numbers of Boating folk tales.^ But the Ultonian cycle
roust before then have assumed definite shape ; it is, in tone
and temper, like all other great heroic sagas, essentially
tragic, and contrasts strongly with the playful and fanciful
romance of so much else in Irish story-telling. Yet the
guidance of the annals cannot be lightly thrust aside as
worthless. I have noted the fact that whilst the marvellous
is as prominent in the sixth and seventh century kings' lives as
it is in those of earlier monarchs, yet it is Christian and not
Pagan in character, This cannot, I think, be set down to
design, and can only arise from the fact that some stories, at
least, were told about Pagan kings before Christianity came
to Ireland, and were too firmly attached to them to be passed
over.

One thing is certain. A conclusion based upon one class
of tales only is hardly likely to be right, unless it can be
applied, with some measure of success, to the remainder of
Irish pre-eleve nth-century literature. In the following pages
I shall discuss the origin, nature, and development of two
well-defined conceptions embodied in a cleariy-marked gettrt
of narrative composition, but I shall endeavour to keep in
' t have given. Waifs xaA Strays, iv., xvii, a list of folk-Ule themes
Ú be found in pre-eleventh centuiy Irish literature.

13«

THE HAPPY OTHERWORLD

mind. Irish literature generally, and to advance no claim the
validity of which is nullified by any other section of that
literature, however much it may seem to be supported by this
particular section. I would only premise that I am concerned,
in the first place, with the original written form of certain
tales, and it is only after endeavouring to place this as accu-
rately as possible that I further discuss the oral traditions
underlying that written form. Statements as to age or origin
must be taken as applying to this latter and not to the
former.

CHAPTER II

; THE CONCEPTION OF THE HAPPY OTHERWORLD IN BRAN'S

VOYAGE

' The Voyage of Bran, consUlueot dements and lending conceptions — The
Happy Olhenvorid— The Doctrine of RetHith—Aimi and method of the
invesligntion — Linguistic evidence as (o (he age of Bran's Voyage — His-
toritol evidence on the same point — The Mongan episode, Itilimonta lo
Mongnn— DiscusMon of the historical evidence— Evidence drawn from
Latin loon words in the Irish teit— Summing up of the Happy Other-
world conception ris found in Bran's Voyage.

' I ROW pass to the consideration of the old Irish story,
I and I propose to state, at the outset, the problems involved,
I to note their possible solutions, and to indicate the method
I of investigation that will be pursued.

The Voyage of Bran can be traced back, diplomatically,

I to the eleventh century ; the first step is to examine whether

' the linguistic peculiarities of the text allow us to assign an

earlier date to it, and if this date can be fixed with any

accuracy. It contains numerous allusions of a quasi -historical

nature, the evidence of which must be carefully weighed, and

the result compared with that attained by examination of the

language. Passing to the subject-matter, we find ourselves

confronted by conceptions and descriptions which at once

produce the impression of belonging to different periods and

> to different stages of culture. A Christian element is patent,

IJ4

THF, VOYAGE OF BRAN

so that our story must have assumed its fínal shape since the
introduction of Christianily Ínlo Ireland. The main episode
is the hero's visit to a mysterious land dwell in by beings
clearly distinguished from mortals by several attributes, most
prominent among which is that of dealhlessness ; a feature of
secondary importance is the reincarnation of one of these
beings in the shape of an Irish chieftain, whom other talcs
also represent as a reincarnation of one of the most famous
heroes of Irish legend, Finn, son of Cumal. Thus are raised
the questions of the naturk.-, age, and origin, on Gaelic soil, of
the conceptions of the Happy Otherworld, and of the Rebirth
of immortal beings in mortal shape, — parallels to which can
be adduced from both Christian and Pagan classic culture.
Taking the conception of the Happy Otherworld first, the
relations of our icni to such other remains of Irish literature
&s contam similar scenes and ideas must be dclcimincd, and
the paradise ideal of the ancient Irish must lie reconstructed.
This ideal must then be compared with the Christian one,
such elements as seem referable to Christianity must be
separated, the residue must t>c set by the side of beliefs and
poetic imaginings, found firstly in Grxco-Koman literature,
secondly in that of other Aryan races. A similar course will
be pursued as regards tlic doctrine of rí'Íncamation. After
which the question must be faced, how far the non-Christian
residue in Irish Iielicf is due to a share in a common in-
heriiance of Aryan mythic beliefs, how far to cunUct with
the Graeco-Roman world in (for the Gaels) prehistoric tiroes,
how far to later influences of Graxo- Roman culture, consequent
upon the introduction of Christianily. So far the invcittigatioa
will deal with literary monuments only ; the evidence of
archicology must then be adduced, with a view lo
soundness of the results arrived at.

LINGUISTIC FEATURES

'35

As aich or the two themes will be examined independently,
without reference to the results arrived at in the other case,
it IS hoped that there may emerge at least a plausible working
hypothesis, by the aid of which better equipped scholars will
be able to fully account for much the present writer is com-
pelled to leave obscure and doubtful.

Linguistic Evidence of Date.

Examining our talc as a linguist, Professor Kuno Meyer

I has placed it among the oldest remains of Irish story -telling.

I He regards the language to be recovered from the eleventh-

r century transcript of the verse, as coeval with the earliest

I recorded glosses, in other words, to belong, possibly, to the

I eighth or even to the seventh century ; the prose is younger

' in appearance, and may possibly have sufTered from change.

He confirms conclusions already expressed by Professor

Zimmer. The agreement of two such scholars may be

accepted as final ; our present text of Bran's Voyage was

composed at least two centuries before our oldest transcript

I was made. But, as I have already argued, the linguistic

I evidence does not allow us to approximate more closely to the

I date of composition, It gives us our choice of two or possibly

three centuries. If we seek greater precision, we must turn

to the historical allusions contained in our text.

, Evidence of Date.
A priori, a pre-el event h-century text of such a character as
\ ours is likely to be older than the year 850. The incursions of
I the Northmen, which began in the last years of the eighth cen-
I tury, and were at their height throughout the greater part of the
I ninth century, were certainly not favourable to Irish letters.
I It is possible, nay probable, that the secular literature of the

136

HISTORICAL CONDITIONS

bards, where, if anywhere, wc should expect to find traces of
pre-Christian beliefs and imaginings, did not suffer so much
as the Christian classic culture, which had flourished so mar-
vellously throughout the sixth, seventh, and eighth centuries.
But considering the close relations that obtained in the
eleventh and following centuries, between the clergy and the
class of professional men of study and letters, it is difficult to
believe that it was much otherwise in the eighth and ninth
centuries, and it may safely be aHimied that the widespread
destruction of churches and of convent schools, the scattering
of teachers, scribes, and manuscript, must have injuriouiily
affected profane as well as ecclesiastical literature. In one
sense, more so ; the cleric, fleeing to the Continent from the
fierce Viltings, could always find a market for his knowledge of
the Scriptures or ihc classics — but who would have cared for
talesof ConchobororCuchulinn, cvenif il had occurred to him
to translate them out of the familiar native tongue into the
language sacred to religion and philosophy? We are not
reduced, however, to conjectures of this nature. Bran's
Voy.igc contains historical allusions of, apparently, a very pre-
cise nature. Qiutrains 49 and following contain a prophecy
by Manannan ; he will go t» Ltnc-rnag and he will beget on
Cainligem, wife of Fiachna, a son, Monj^on, possessor of magic
skill and attributes, who shall live fifty years and sliall be slain
by a dragon stone in the fight at Senlabot.

Tkk Monoan Story.
The allusions in the poem arc made plain by the tale <
titled the Conception of Mongan, printed I'n/ra, pp. 58 rfa
and the glossator of our poem evidently intcr[)n;led them Í
the same way. Moreover, certain tia/a of ttic poem, such as
the magic shape-shifting attributes of Manannao's eon, ant'

THE MONGAN EPISODE

Ilie the other stories about Mongan, printed supra, pp.42 et sey.
Before discussing these it may be well to print a series of
teslimonta lo Mongan, son of Flachoa, of whose actual
existence and renown there is no reason to doubt. But a
preliminary objectioD must be faced, bearing in mind that we
are at present seeking for evidence concerning the date of
composition of Bran's Voyage. Is the Mongan episode an
organic portion of the Bran story at all ? May it not repre-
■^^ sent a later interpolation, and is it not unfair to draw con -
^^^ elusions from it respecting what may really be far older? As
^^H will be made apparent later, I think it extremely likely that
^^F Bran's visit to the Otherworld was once told as an indepcnd-
^^^ ent tale, and that the Mongan episode is rather clumsily foisted
in. But it seems certain that the author of this contamination
was likewise the author of the Bran story, as it has come
down to us ; in other words, that we are entitled to use the
Mongan episode for the purpose of dating the story as we
possess it. I italicise the last four words purposely. The

k oldest written form of a story may be the starting point of a
new literary organism; it may equally be the last link of a
long chain, all the predecessors of which have perished. In
either case it must be taken as the starting point of investiga-
tion, but the second possibility must always be kept in
Blind.
The notices concerning the historical Mongan are as
k follows. Where the translation differs from those already
in print they are due to Professor Kuno Meyer.

Tigemach's Annals, a.u. 630:' Mongan, son of Fiachna
Lurgan dies slain with a stone by Artur, son of Bicor of Britain,

' See also the AnnaU of Ulslec,
A.D. 635, and the Four Misleis, a.i
:e printed ju/ra.

i^S TF.STIMONIA TO MONCAN

whence Decc Boirche [a king of Ulster, niio died a.i>. }tS

sang:

■ Cold is Ihe wind across Islay,
Warriors of Cantirc are coming,
They (vllt rommit a ruthless deed.
They will Iclll Mongan sun of Fiachn;i.

The church of CItian Airlbir' (o^ay,
Famous (he four on whom it closed :
Cormac the gentle, with great suflcring,
And lllanil son of Fiachu.
And Ihe other twain.
Whom many tribes did serve :
iMongan snn of Fiachna Lurgan,
And Ronao son of Tuaihal.''

Annals of Cloninacnotsc, a. r>. 624 : ' Mongnn mac FiaghM
a very well-spoken man, and much given to the wooing of
women, was killed by one [Arthur aji] Bicoír, a Wclshtnan,
with a stone.

Krom Cinaed hua Hartaciin's (+975) poem on the /
of Ireland, Book of I^insler, p. 31Í :

' Moiit;an, who was a diadem of every generation.
Fell by ibcfim of Canlire :
Uy thc^n of Luagni was ihc death of Finn
Al Alh Urea on die Hoynt^.'

Finally, the Irish Annal.s translated by Mr. Sundish fla
fyCrady (Sitva Gad. 411) from Eg. 17S1, a fiftecnth-o
transcript of older material, may be cited as summing up d

' Rcvci, Adamnnn, p. J73, note i, ihloki thii ii the pikcc now
NUcheracloon (Mnchoirc Clúan>), ea. hlonafihui.
' Kini; of tht^ Ainhera or Ewtcrn UícghÍalU, co. AimiKh-
' (Quoted I7 O'Donovui, Kiiui Mulcts, vol. i, |i. M}> «olc l

TESTIHONIA TO MONGAN

'39

whole matter in the eyes of a rationalising anliquaiy of the
twelfth or possibly the eleventh century : 'a.b, 615. Also the
notable Mongan was son of that same Fiachna, son of
Ilaetan. For albeit certain dealers in antiquarian fable do
ptopottnd him to have been son of Manannan and wont to
enter at his pleasure into divers shapes. Yet this we may not
credit, rather choosing to take Mongan for one that was but
a man of surpassing knowledge, and gifted with an intelli-
gence clear, and subtle, and keen.'

The above evidence, and the tales themselves, as found
ia the eleventh century ms,, the Book of the Dun Cow,
clearly prove that stories at the very least as old as the
tenth century existed concerning a Mongan, son of Fiachna,

noted wizard and a rebirth of Manannan, and also, by
some accounts, of Finn, son of Cumal. The importance
of the latter fact will be discussed later on, for the present
it may suffice to say that, apart from Bran's Voyage, the
evidence that Mongan was a rebirth of Finn is every whit
as good as that for his being a rebirth of Manannan. It
is also certain that by the end of the tenth century at the
latest this wizard Mongan was idcntllied with the historical
son of Fiachna, whose death at the hands of an Arthur of
Britain is assigned lo the year 620.'

' Intcresling nuesiions are taised by this eatly meniion of an Arthur o£
Britain living only a hanilrcd years after the dux billarum, whose eiploib
supply tbe bÍBtoiJcal Itasis of the Arlhurian romance. Prufessor Zitnmei
(NcnnioE, 1S4, et lai-'S has collected tbe earliest eumpks of the name
Af ibut, which, as is well known, is Grai used of the gieat British hero-king
by ibe eighth or ninth ceaiuiy Nconius. He cites an Artur Map Fetr, a
South Welsh chief of 600-630; an Aiiur, ton of Aed Mac Gahrain, king
of Dalrinda, who died in 606, is «leDtioned by Adamnan, and his death
is ascribed by Tigemach to the year 596. For Piofessor Ziminet (his
occurrence of the name among tmth the Southern and Northern Kyniry at

I
I

14© MONGAN

We must not, it is (rue, suITct oursclvc-ti to be overborne by
the show of precise dating and historic accuracy made by ihe
texts. It is significant to note (hat tlic tale of Mongan's
frciuy {supra, p. 57) brings him into contact with personages
of the early sixth century. This may be due, as I have
argued supra, to confusion between events and personages
of the sixth century due (o similarity of the nanie Diarmait,
between two high kings of Ireland, and (o the fac( that the
yellow pbguc visited the country in both reigns ; also it may
simply (estify (o the story-teller's ignorance of history, as
on the other hand it may testify to a time when tradition
had not definitely assigned a date to the wizard hero.
But, considering the evidence as a whole, and without
unduly straining isolated portions, 1 think it must be held
to fix a terminus a quo, as we liave already fixed a lertninus
ad iiuem, for our story. It is immaterial whether the
historical Mongan had a mythical namesake from whom
these stories were transferred to him, or whether other cir-
cumstances determined the crysiaJlisation round his person
of talcs which in themselves must be far older. In cither
case the process must have rajuired a couple of generations,
Ihe turn o( the lixlh and KVcnlb cGDlnrics tdiifiet lo ihe csitlrnM U thi*
(Inte of the hiilorieal Atthut legend. The ipccial intctt»! ktlJchine lo
Atlhur, Kin of Bicur, U« in hix ccinncction with Mun)^, uul ihiou^
Mun|,-an with ihe ta£a of Kino, ton of Cumal. At I have (winlci] out
(K. C. lii. 1SS-1S9), there ue definite poinu of conucl betwoen the
Anhari»n and Fenian cyd» or romance in Ibe ittnia told abont the
yuulh of boih Arthur and Finn, and in llie fact that both htrun ha*«
oorallhrul wiTCD, Ihe favoured lovet beinj; In each caic tbe kiDg^
nephew. Ii tut nem yel licen polnlcd out thai the eqasdan Manf^-
Finn lupplici n funhcr parallel between the two cycjea b the Uith alory
ot Mont.'an and of Artliur. 1 hope lo deireln|i thi* [Krim fully in th«
second portion ot lliia itudy, in which I ihall caanioe at leacih t
vaiiiiua ilmiei alioul Mongan (iiintcd In IhU rolnine.

LOAN WORDS 141

■so that Bran's Voyage can hardly have assumed the shape
under which it has come down to us before the last quarter of

I the seventh century, and may, of course, be younger by any
biimber between 10 and 150 years.

EvrtlENCE OF THE LOAN WORDS.

Linguistic and historical evidence are thus in general agree-
ment ; our tale may belong to the seventh, or more likely to
the eighth century- Considerations, hitherto left unnoticed,
.«i])port this view. Professor Meyer has instanced {su/ra, p.

,) the loan words from the Latin which the story contains.
;'But borrowing from Laiin implies the possibility of borrowing
from Latin Christian culture. It also implies such lengthened
familiarity with the ideas represented by the words as to
eoable their use with advantage and effect in a romance. It
may be urged that in the sixth and early seventh centuries
Ireland was sufficiently Christianised to allow of considerable
borrowing from the more highly cultured language. True,
Wid had our text been of an ecclesiastical nature 1 do not
thitUc the argument from the loan words would be valid for
au eighth century date as against a lale seventh century one.
But Bran's Voyage, though to what extent must be left an
open question for tlie present, is partly Pagan, and I should
expect a Pagan text either to antedate the effective triumph of
Christianity in Ireland, in which case the alien culture would
probably have influenced it but little, or to so far postdate it
as to allow the disappearance of an anti-Pagan censorious
feeling on the part of the clergy who had absorbed so many
of the pre-Chrislian literary elements of Irish society. How-
ever rapid the progress of Christianity in Ireland may have
been, however lukewarm, comparatively speaking, the resist-
ance of the pre-Christian beliefs, still some resistance, some

143

THE VOYAGE OF BRAN

conflict there must have been, and thuic arc nal wanting
signs that both were prolonged well on into the seventh cen-
tury. Christianity must have been securely organised by the
time the author of Bran's Voyage wrote ; he could retell his
Pagan tale, lard it with Christian allusions, embellish it with
loans from Latin Christian culture, without any sense of
incongruity, and this could hardly be done, I take it, before
the eighth century, to the middle of which we may. provision-
ally, assign his work.

If the story of Bran had come down to us as the sole repre-
sentative of the conceptions embodied in it, some certainty
respecting their origin ajid development might yet, though
with difficulty, be attained. Luckily, however, it is but mic
example of a class of romantic narrative reaching back to
the dawn of Irish literature, and preserving its popu-
larity and plastic vitality until the last century ; moreover,
both <)f its leading conceptions — that of the Happy Other-
world and that of Rebirth — may be paralleled from talcs of
equal or even greater antiquity. The study of thi« literature,
of tliese parallels, cannot fail to throw light upon the origin and
nature of our story.

Sdhburv of Bran's Presentmxkt op tiie
Happy OntERwoRU).
Before entering upon this study, it may be well to i
the salient features of the Happy Otherworld as jiortxaycd In
Bran's Voyage. It may be reached by mortals specially
summone<l by denizens of the land ; the summons comes
from a damsel, whose approach is marked by magically sweet
music, and who bears a ma^c apjilc-branch. She de«cribct
the laod tuidcr the tuost alluring culoun— ila inh^iianis ■»

SUMMARY 143

free from death and decay, they enjoy in full measure a
simple round of sensuous delights, the land itself is one of
thrice fifty distant isles lying to the west of Ireland ; access to
the whole group is guarded by Manannan, son of Lir. The
first island louclied at is the Island of Joy (where one of the
companions is left behind), the second the Land of
Women. The chief of the women draws Bran to shore with
magic clew, and keeps hira with her for, as it seems to him,
year. Longing seizes one of the mortal band to revisit
Ireland. All the wanderers accompany him, but arc warned
against setting foot to land. On returning to Ireland they
: been absent for centuries, and the one who in
e warning touches earth is forthwith reduced to
tells his adventure, and disappears again from

CHAPTER III

P^rollct lAlc* : ia) Eektra CondU, or Úie Advmtiuis of (JwnU :

tbe story, discnuion of ils dale, coniparlson wlUi Hiun'i Voyage — [t)
Ouin in ibc L&nd of Youlh ; Huiiiiuu-y tÁ the aloiy, dltviusion of lis date
— {r) Cuchulinn's Sick Hoil ; sumnuiy of Uic ilory. cliiciustoa of d
companHln wilh Bran and ConnU,

TiiK Advknturks or Connla.
Thii closest of all parallels to Bran's Voyage is Ihc E<k
Condla, Ihe adventures of Connla, son of Cotid the Mundi
fighter, who was hij^h king of Ireland, according to the U
and clcvenlli century nnnals, from A.rx iia
also found in the Book of tbe Dun Cow, and, as Profoi
j^immer lias pointed out <p. i6>), there, and in the other i
which have preserved it, immediately precedes or follows t
story of Bran. When it is recollected that the nldesi Irish
uss. art; small lihrarics Íii themselves, the contents of which
are arranged with some attempt at system, this invariable
juxtaposition of Ihc two stories acquires a certain irm>orlance.
I summarise from the Knglixh version by the Rev. Futbcr
\iti<&ii'\rif^ {Gaelic /aurna!, ii. 307), collated with Professor
Zimmcr's German version (p. 163).'

' There i* aIu b Fcoieh Teiiioa in M. d'ArboU ite J ubaisTUIo't
Ccltique CD Itlanilc (ruii, \^i\, 384-390,

CONNLA

■«

Connla, being in company with his father on the top of
Uisnech, sees a damsel in strange garb approaching. She
comes from the lands of the living, where is neither death, nor
sin, nor transgression. Tis a large sid in which she and her
kin dwell, hence they are called Acs Side {folk of the hillock
or mound), The father cannot understand with whom his
son is talking, and the damsel enlightens hira. She loves
Connla, and she has come to invite him to the Plain of
Delight, where dwells King Boadag. 'Come with me,' she
cries, 'Connla of the Ruddy Hair, of the speckled neck,
flame-red, a yellow crown awaits ihee ; thy figure shall not
wither, nor its youth nor its beauty till the dreadful Judgment.''
The father then bade Coran the Druid, who, like the others,
heard bui did not see the damsel, to chant chants against her.
So she departed, but left to Connla an apple, and this was his
sole sustenance for a month, and yet nothing was diminished
of it. Longing filled Connla for the damsel, and at the
month's end he beheld her again, and she addressed him in
ibis wise: "Tis no lofty seat on which Connla sits among
short-lived mortals awaiting fearful death. The ever-living
living ones invite thee. Thou art a champion (or favourite)
1 of Tethra, for they see thee every day in the
mblies of thy father's home among thy dear friends.'
a the king urges the Druid to chant against her, but she

ifessor Windisch, in hU edilion oí the E<htra Cendia (Itische

t, L), taking íaívi as Ihe genitive of cam (cnwkciJ), instead of caem

) mailc a hunchback of Connla. The distÍDgDÍsbed Leipzig

^u alia M. d'Aibois dc Juboinville who adopts Ihis renderiag,

muBl lie wrong. The very last thing the Indies

Ight of was lUc hatownl a\ Iheir favour upon anjr but a

le and gallant man. Cf. tua the description of Connla

h-loiuieenlh-cnituiy lomoncc. The Adveniutes of Tcigue,

I, {tp. xoi-aciE).

146

CON NLA

makes answer, ' Dmidism is not loved, llltlc h^^ it prof
to honour on the (Ireat Strnnd. When his law shftll c
will scalier the chamis or Druids Trom journeying nn I
of the black, lying demons,' She then tells Connla of anotlicr
land, in which is no race save only women and maidens.
When she has ended, Connla gives a bound right into her
ship of glass, her well-balanced gleaming currach. They
sailed the sea away from them, and from that day to this have
not been seen, and it is unknown whither they went.

In one important res{>ect Connla differs from Bran. He is
son of Conn, a famous figure in Gaelic legendary history, him-
self the hero of a visit to the Otherworld {infra, p. 187), and
the centre of a great cycle of stones which tell of his combats
with the Munsier king, Mog Nuadat ; his brother Art is a
prominent figure in the yet more famous cycle of which ihc
battle of Mag Mucrinia is the chief episode; whilst hix nephew
Cormac, is, with the sole exception of Conchobor, the most
famous among the legendary hero kings of Erin, and the one
around whom has gathered the most varied mass of heroic
niniaiicc outside the great heroic cycles. Little wonder then
that he too should be a subject of bardic inspiration. But
Ilran and his father I'cbal arc otherwise unknown to us, nor
docs the story give the slightest clew to the age in which
they were supjiosed to live. It iti impossible at prcxent to
say whether or no this independence of the traditional annol»
is a sign of early or tate origin. The criticism of the extensive
mass of heroic legend which has accumulated round the
names of Irish kings of the first fciut centurie» of our era if
yet ill its infancy. We know that it had certainly taken shape
by the end of ihc tenth century, and that it ms put into (he
form in which tt hai come down to ds id the elcvcntli ^
twelfth ci:nturics, but of its real age, of its natun: and d

DATE OF CONNLA

■47

ment, we have only the vaguest idea. I believe, but I can
advance no solid ground for my belief, that the non-dependence
of Bran's Voyage upon any of the recognised cycles of historic
legend is a sign of age, and clear proof that its eighth century
author was dealing with far older material.

A second point in considering the age of the Eehtra Condla
13 this. The story is avowedly told to account for the epithet
of Oenftr (the Lone One), given to Coiinla's brother Art, and
concludes as follows: 'They (Cond and Coran) see Art
.coming towards them. Alone is Art to-day, says Cond,
Tobably his brother is not. Tis the name, quoth Coran,
ihat sh^l be upon him [ill the Judgment — An the Lone One.
Hence it is the name stuck to him ever after.' Bui there is
another explanation of the epithet to be found in the unknown
poet cited by Keating' (p. 314), inthe AnnalsofClonmacnoise,
and in the following extract from Kilbride 3 {a fifteenth century
MS. preserved in the Advocates' Library at Edinburgh), cited,
SilvaGadelica, 534: "Why was Art called ^in/Xer? Because,
excepting him. Conn had not a son left, Connla and Crinna
being slain by Eochaid Fionn and Fiacha Suighde ' (Connla's
uncles). The extract, which is from the Coir Ánmann^ a
^>ecies of biographical and historical encyclopedia compiled
in the eleventh century, proceeds to quote the verse made use of
by Keating, and also mentions the variant explanation afforded
,1^ the Eehtra Condla. Here again it is difficult to say if what
lay be termed the annalistic account is older or younger than
le legendary one. I believe it to be considerably younger,
>d to have been intentionally substituted for the other,

' The bfoihers of the (oy»! Cann
Were Eocaldh Finn and Fiacaidh SuJghdi,
Who Conolfl slew «nd Crinna btave,
Cono'it comely soni, llieir youthful nephews.

14« CONNI.A AND BRAN

to the great antiquity of which it thus yields precious
witness.

The E<ktra Coti^la shares with the Imram Brain two
marked characteristics of a general nature. Both arc <le-
cidcdly incoherent. In Bran the Mongan episodes and the
mention of the Isle of Joy are introduced in the same casual
offhand way as the fairy damsel's currach in Connia, although
in the latter case the inconsistency is more glaring than any-
thing in the other story. Again, the Christian element [iroduces
in both cases the same impression of being thrust into the
story without rhyme or reason. True, in Connia there is
some point in the reference to Christ's coming, and we may
safely say that the tale as we have it is due to an enemy of
the Druid system (which by no means died out with the
triumph of Christianity) or has been interpolated by ont
These similarities of artistic handling arc sutlicicnt to allow
the surmise that possibly bolli talcs may be due to the same
writer. It is noteworthy also that they in a measure supple-
ment each other ; the love motive emphasised in the one Is
implied in the other, as the ultimate term of Bran's voyage is
the Isle of F.iir Women, the queen of which is possibly the
summoning damsel. Certain differences between two storlet
may be set down to the different conditions of their being.
The teller of Connla's Tale, anxious only to emphasise hii
disappearance, has naturally nothing to say about his access
to the mysterious land, about its raia, or tlie penalty
atlachÍDg to departure from iu But there can be liitlc doubt
that substantially his prcseoRnent nf these points would how
been the uine &% in Hran's Voyage. The most marVnl diflier-
enoe Iwtween the two stories, the fact, namely, that the fairy
messenger is visible to (he comrades of Bran whilH invisible to
those of Connb. i* more apparent than reai The

OISIN IN TIR NA NOG

149

invisibility to mortal eyes belongs also to the subjects of
Manannan, as may be seen by quatrain 39 of Bran's Voyage.
It would nevertheless be unsafe, in my judgment, to claim
a common authorship for both tales. Rather must they be
looked upon as products of one school, in which old traditions
were haadled in a particular spirit and with an evident desire
to make them palatable in orthodox eyes. Substantially the
presentment of the Happy Olherworld is the same in both
tales. It is essentially the Plain of Joy ; its immates are the

I ever-living living ones ; they summon to themselves such
mortals as they choose, and by their choice confer upon them
their most cherished attribute — freedom from death and
decay. In both cases this freedom is symbolised by, nay,
seems dependent upon magic food. Both seem to regard
return to this earth as an impossibility. Taken togetiier
Ihey offer the oldest Irish type of the journey to the land where
there is no death and whence there is no scathless return.

OistN tN THE Land of Youth.
Numerous, as will be shown presently, are the visions of
this land in Irish story-telling ; yet to find a close variant to
the myth as it greets us from the very threshold of Irish
literature we must traverse centuries. Christianity has come,
the Norsemen have come, the Normans have come, each
affecting but slightly the old framework of Irish social and
moral life. At length the English have come, and in the
bloody travail of Ihe sixteenth and seventeenth centuries
Ireland is born anew into the modem world. But her poets
and peasants cling fast to and for a while retain the old faith
Uid vision, and the eighteenth century folk-singer, Michael
Comyn, tells the slory of Oisin in the Land of Youth on the
ne lines and with the same colours as the eighth century

15«

OISIN

shannachie who told of Bran or Connla.' The hero is c
away to the fairy li^nd of the living by the loving entreaty 4
Niau), daughter of its king :—

' Redder was her cheek than the roM,
Fairer her face than swan upon the wave,
More sweei the taste of her balsam lips
Than honey mingled with red wine.'
Of the land itself wc ate told :—

* Abundant there are honey and wine,

And aught else the eye has beheld.

Fleeting time shall not bend ihee.

Death nor decay shalt thou see.'

I'he damsel carries the hero away on her steed across ttn

western waves and the Fianna raise three shouts of mourning

and grief. As they traverse the ocean thoy behold a young

maid on a brown steed, a golden apple in her right hand.

Oisin spends three hundred years in the Land of Youth, a

at length is fain to see Erinn once mote, Fionn and his g

host. Niam warns him : —

' If thou Uyest foot on level ground
Thou slialt not c
To this fair land m which I a

n for e

Here then the prohibition is for the hero to alight from hi»"
horse, and this touch rcvcftls a whole history of social dc-
velupment. When the stories of Btan and Connla were
wrought, the Irish used horses as beasts of draught only—
the heroes fought from the war-chariot or on foot. The
' Kdited, with in tntemtini; introdoction, tiy Mr. D. O'ljmicr,
(jMÍanic Soe. Iv. "^

DATE OF POEM iji

r could not have imagined the hero disbarking on
his return from the Land of Promise without touching the
death-giving earth. But in course of time, probably during the
Viking invasions, the Irish became riders, and horseman and
hero were almost synonymous (although it should be noted
that in the Fenian tales as much stress is laid upon the swift-
ness of foot of Caoiile or Oisin as in the Homeric poems
upon that of Achilles). Hence the added refinement of
descent from tlie horse. It is indeed surprising that the idea
of actual contact between earth and the body of the home-

. faring mortal being necessary for time to accomplish its work

I should have persisted as it did.

It is unnecessary to dwell upon other proofs of lateness of
this poem ; the really remarkable thing being that although
undoubtedly a composition of the last two hundred years, it
should in scenery, accessories, spirit, and colouring resemble so
strongly stories a thousand years older. And when I call it a

I composition of the last two hundred years, I wish to lie under-

I stood as referring solely to the literary form in which it is
cast. I sec no reason for doubting that the visit of OÍsin
to the Land of Youth, and his return lo earth, were early
component parts of the Fenian cycle. In one of the chief
monuments of that cycle, the Agailamh na Senóracli, . or
Colloquy with the Ancients, preserved in fourteenth century
Hss., and probably & composition of the thirteenth century,
the living on of Oisin and Caoilie into Patrician times is
definitely indicated, and Oisin is stated to have passed into
the sidA (fairy mound) of his mother filai,^ who is said, the
oldest authority being a marginal note in the Book of Leinster,
probably of the thirteenth century, to have borne him whilst ,
' See Mr. Standish IIa.y«s O'Grady's lt»nslalion uf the Colloquy,

iSi CUCHULINN'S SICK BED

she was in doc shape' And a supernatu rally prolonged
is presupposed by Iheexlensivcbody of Ossianic poetry,
brings the hero in contact with St. Patrick, and which n
at least aa old as the fourteenth century, as it is found,
obviously worn-down condition, iu the Book of the Dean of
Lisinore, a Scotch Gaelic Ms. of the late fifteenth century.* It
may be urged thai Michael Comyii, to account for the super-
natural prolonging of the hero's life, transformed an older
tradition of his disappearance into a fairy mound inio a visit
to the Happy Otherworld. But 1 think this unlikely, and I
hold that Comyn's poem embodies, in the main, an old and
genuine tradition. The jioini Ís, however, of little moment
fur the present inquiry, the interest of [he work lying, as I have
already said, in its testimony to the vitality and plasittc capa<
of the Othcrworld conception in Gaelic popular literature.

Cucmulinn's Sick Bed.

The three stories that have just been discussed, all
plify one main idea of the Oiherworld conception
impossibility for the mortal, who has penetrated thither,
return to earth. We must now examine a number of stories,
from which this idea is absent, and it will be necessary to
arrive at some conclusion whether or no this is a sign of later
origin. The 6rst of these stories, one of the must famous
episodes of the Ultonian cycle, is known as the Sick Bed
of Cuchnlinn. It has been edited from the Book of the Dun

• Sil» Gut.. 533.

' The eullal rcMtdcd example of thii cl*i( of Onitsk CDiiitiaailÍDn
hiu IiMn prinied and Irnntlatnl by Prof. Ktmo Merer (H.C *i. iSj-W],
from Stowe MS. 993 of Ihc Isle fanilernlh centary. Il tDtubIi»f foar
«hart vcran in which Oiiin U-w&lU tbi lou of hit fuath oail rlconr.
The defiant onli-ChrUlÍBD note I», hoocvcr, ftbtcnl fmm iknc m

CUCHULÍNN'S SICK BED

•53

Cow, with accompanying English translation, by O'Curry
(Atlantis, Nob. ii. and iii.). I use his version, as revised by
Professor Meyer.'

The story runs as follows:— As the Ultonians were assembled
for the great Fair of Samkain, a flock of birds alighted on the
lake in their presence, and in Erin there were not birds more
beautiful. The king's wife declared she must have one, whereat
the other women of the court, and in especial, Eithne Inguba,
Cuchulinn's mistress, claimed them also. Cuchulinn slew and
distributeti the birds, and every woman of the Court received
one, save his own wife, Emer. To appease her, he promised
that liie next time birds should come, she should have the two
most beautiful ones. Not long after, they saw two birds on
the lake, linked together by a chain of red gold. They
chanted a low melody, which brought sleep ujion the
assembly.' Cuchuhnn sought to sby them, but without
success. He went away in bad spirits, and sleep fell upon
him. And he saw two women coming towards him, one in
green and one in a five-folded crimson cloak. The woman in
green went up lo him and smiled, and gave him a stroke of a
horse-switch. Then the other, coming up, also smiled and
struck him, and this they did alternately till they left him
nearly dead. He lay till the end of a year, without speaking
lo any one. There came then a stranger and sang verses
promising healing and strength to the hero, if he would accept
the invitation of the daughters of Aed Abrat, to one of whom,
Fann, ' it would give heartfelt joy to be espoused lo Cuchu-
linn.' He then departed, 'and they knew not whence he
came nor whither he went.' Cuchulinn went to the place
where the adventure had befallen him, and saw again the I

' I have :ilso collated M. d'ArboU dc Jubiuivilk's French vcisioo, ]
Epopic Celtique, 170-216,

»54

CUCHULINN'S SICK BED

woman in a green cloak. From her he leaml that Fann,
abandoned by her husband, Manannan Mac Lir, had con-
ceived affection for him. Her own name is Liban, and her
husband, Labraid of the Quick Hand on the Sword, bids her
tell him that if he will come and light againsl I^btaid's
enemies, he shall get Fann to wife. Their country is the
Plain of Delight.

Cuchulinn sent bis charioteer, Laeg, to see what manner
of land it might be whence she came. Lilian and he iravcUed
logelher to the water's edge, where, entering a boat of bronic,
they crossed over to an i&land. Laeg saw both Fann and
labraid, and when he returned to Cuchulinn the latter rose
up and passed his hand over his face, and felt hia spirits
strengthened by the stories the youth related.

Again Liban came to invite Cuchulinn to the fairy mansions,
and she sang to him thus :

'Labraid is now upon a pure lake.
Whither do resort companies of women.
Thou would'st not feel fatigued by coniiog to his U
If ihou would'st but visit Labraid.

Daring his right hand which repels a hundred,

He who has lold it knows :

Crimson in beautlAil hue

Is the likeness of Labraid's cheek.

He shakes a woirs head of battle slaaghter
Oeforc hia thin red sword ;
He crushes the weapons of helpless hosts.
He shatters the broad shields of champioos.

CUCHULINN'S SICK BED 155

Cuchulimi again sent Laeg, and when the latter returned
he sang verses describing Labraid's house and land :

' There ate at the western door,
In the place where (he sun goes down,
A stud of steeds with grey- speckled manes,

And another crimson -brown.

There are at the eastern door

Three ancient trees of crimson crystal,

From which sing soft-voiced birds incessantly

To the youth from out the kingly Kalh.

There is a tree in from of ihe court ;

It cannot be matched in harmony ;

A tree of silver against which the sun shines,

Like unio gold is its great sheen.

There is a vat there of merry mead,
A-distributing unto Ihe household.
Still it remains, constant the custom,
So that it is ever full, ever and always.'

e also praised Fann :

' The hearts of all men do break
For her love and her aflection.'

'If all Erin were mine
And the kingship of yellow Bregia,
i would give it, no triOing deed,
To dwelt for aye in the place 1 reached.'

Cucbulinn then went with Laeg, overthrew Labraid's
mics, and after remaining a month with Fann, made

'56

CUCHULINN'S SICK BED

assignation to meet her at Ibar-Cinn-Trachta. But Bid
his wife, heard of this, and taking with her fifty n

armed with knives, went to the appointed place of n

When Fann saw her she appealed to Cuchulinn for protection,
and he promised it. But Emer upbraided him bitterly. Why
had he dishonoured her berore all the women of Erin and before
aU honourable people ? Once they were together in dignity, and
they might be again if it were pleasing to bim. And Cuchulinn
look pity upon her. A contest then arose between the two,
Fann and Emer, which should give up Cuchulinn. I1ie faJiyj
queen yielded to the mortal, and she sang :

'Woe I to give lave to a person,

If he (toes not take aoiice of it ;

li is better to be turned away

Unless one is loved as one loves.'

liut when Manarman was made aware of ibis he came tta

the east to seek Fann, and no one perceived him but Pal

alone, and great remorse ' seized her, and she sang :

* O'Cuny, Allanlii, iii. 119, lianiliilci 'Inror;' bul, is Piokaot Zittl
liu well pointed onl [LU. 614), ibe King the áags belnyi n
lerroi. On Ihe cotitru7, ihc rccolU her li*|>py tmuried life, and allhi
*hc does not conccil her love foi the mottal. «he letunu of hei own fi
will to the inimoital hutlHind. M. d'Arboii Jt Jabdnville
'Joloude,' but Fuin't scntimcnl certainly refe» It CudiiiKnn miui noI)|
Muuniun.

I have quoted at loiiicwhsl sicalei length fiom Ihii ilcirjr Ihas V
peihaps abiulnlcly nnvnuy. )hii I coulil doI reiitt ihe tmii'liiioD et
citiag pauagei which beat out >o itiongly the contention I wai ihe firtt la
urge (in mj Gnul) ihat the pwitioo aBigned to woman bi the French
Ailhuriaa rominco of Ihe IwelAh ctmlury ii dependent upon fai oldci
Ctlllc literatim: ■« rcpreicnlcd liy the [irc-clevmlh century Iriih uea).
There 1* nn [lainllel la the pcnition m In ihc «cnlimentj of I''»nn in the
pcal-clossic lileiature of Weitcra Europe Dntfl we oome (o Cuinivere and
~~ nian and Orn^neilltrau.

CUCHULINN'S SICK BED

One day ihat 1 was with the son of Ler
In the sunny palace of Dun Inbir,
We thought then without a doubt
Never should aught part us.

T the s<

hither—

I see coming

No foolish person sees him —

The horseman of the crested sea.

Thy coming past us up to this.
No one sees but a lííí-dwellcr.'

She went after Manannan, and he bade her welcome, and
gave her choice to stay with Cuchulinn or go with him. She
answered — ' There is, by our word, one of you whom 1 would
rather follow than the other, but it is with you I shall go, for
Cuchulinn has abandoned me — thou loo hast no worthy
queen, but Cuchulinn has.'

But when Cuchulinn saw her depart he leaped three high
leaps, and he remained for a long time without drink and

» without food in the mountains, nor was he himself again
Until the Druids had given a drink of forgelfulness lo him
and to Emer, and until Manannan had shaken his cloak
between Cuchulinn and Fann to the end that they should
never meet again.

The last words of the story are : ' So that this was a \

to Cuchulinn of being stricken by the people of the Siá : for

I ihe demoniac power was great before the faith ; and such was

Bits greatness that Ihe demons used to hght bodily against

mortals, and they used to show them delights and secrets

F how they would be in immortality. It was thus ihey

iS8 RELATION TO BRAN

used to l>e believed in. So it is to such phantoms 1
ignorant apjily the names of Side and /Íís Side.'

Ahhough I have left out several irrelevant episodes i
summary, the fact that this fine talc is not in an orij
form will nevertheless be apparent to the reader. The dot
invitation of Libon, the double preliminary visit of La^, <
only arise from contamination of two versions. 1
instance indeed has Professor Zimmer's acute and i
criticism done him better service than here, and it rasy %
taken as certain that the text of the Book of the Dun Cow t
a fusion of at least two nairalivcs concerning Cuchulinn's
Adventures in Faery. The point is of importance in this way.
The language of Cuchiiiinn's Sick Bed is younger than that of
either E<h{ra Brain or Ethtra C<md/a. But this may simply
be due to the fact that this process of welding into one two
originally discordant versions, forbade the close retention of
the original grammatical or orthographical forms we find in
Bran and Connla. These would be in fact simple copies
made in the early eleventh or late tenth century of far older
originals with a natural (natural, that is, in an entirely
uncritical age) adaptation to the language of the day, whilst
Cuchulinn's Sick Bed would require to be re-writlcn, and
would inevitably lose its outward marks of antiquity. It can
I think tie hardly doubted that it was thin tenth or eleventh
century redactor who added the final paragraph, wliich I have
Iranscribed in full, and thereby aflbrdcd valuable proof of the
Iwlief in the tid folk as still living in his day.

Relation of Bram, Connla, as» Cvchuunn's Sick Bkd.

The less archaic nature of the language yields then flo
dccTsivc testimony in the question irf' the relative a^ of
Curhtilinn's Sick Bed and the Vovhpls of hran n "

WARLIKE OTHKRWORLD

'59

That question must be decided by internal evidence. We
may first brielly notice the points in which the three stories
agree. The hero is summoned by one of the dames of Faery
Mfho is filled with love for him ; tlie land lies over the water ;
it produces magic inexhaustible tood ; its inhabitants are
Invisible when they like. Bran and Cuchulinn's Sick Bed
further agree in connecting Manannan with this land, and in
such minor points as insistence upon the trees in which are
found the sweet singing birds. The differences seem far greater.
Laeg and Cuchulinn penetrate to the Otherworld and return
thence scathless ; the idea of deathlessness is not even men-
tioned, let alone insisted upon in connection with the land of
I the magic dames; on the contrary, Cuchulinn slays many of
I Labraid's enemies who must be assumed to be of the same
I race as the king himself, and so far from the absence of strife
' being a distinguishing feature of this Elysium, Labraid's martial
prowess is extolled in the most sanguinary terms. Taking
the last of these points first, I think we cannot fail to see the

i trace of an entirely different conception of the Otherworld from
that of Bran, a conception which aiay be equally old on Irish
ground, but may also be due to the influence of the Scandi-
navian Valhalla as elaborated in the later stages of the
Viking religion ; I shall presently cite a still more remarkable
tllustralion of this, the warlike as opposed to the peaceful
ideal of Otherworld happiness. The absence of reference to
Ihe deathlessness of Fann and her kin, may, assuming the
writer thought of them as immortal, be set down to the fact
that it was taken for granted, and thai in a story the object
of which is not, as in Bran, to extol the delights of the Other-
world, there was no need to say anything on the subject. In
the same way Cuchulinn's immunity from death or old
I age on his return to earth may be claimed as due to his half-

■ Co

CUCHULINN'S SICK BED

divine nature, for his father Lug, according to the <
and most widely spread account, was of the same ra
Manannan and Fann ;' or, again, the year's death-ii
condition in which the dames from Faery leave him after ihar
6rst visit, and the 'long time without dnnk or food' he
passes after Fann has quitted him might be looked upon as
the last trace of such an incident as Nechtan's fate. This
could not, however, apply to his charioteer Laeg, and there
is besides no trace in the story of that supernatural lapse of
time which is such a marked feature in Bran.

We may then regard Cuchulinn's Sick Bed as containing
either the germ of that conception of the Otherworld which
we fmd, later, highly elaborated in Bran and Connia, or as
presenting that conception in a weakened and incoherent
form that has suffered foreign inHuence. Before deciding
which of these two explanations is the correct one, other tales
must be examined.

In any case, however, it should be noted thai some é
encc there was bound to be between Cuchulinn's Sick I
and Bran in the treatment of such a theme as the visit to tl
Olherworld, The main outlines of the Cuchulinn saga «
probably fixed before the episode was worked into It;
fate of the hero could not be essentially modified ; if i
thing had to go to the wall it would be the logical consixle
of the episodic theme We are met, I think, with «
aitisiic necessities and similar modifications of the orígi
conception in the group of titles known technically as /im
or Oversea Voyages.

' The variaui itoria vi Cuchulinn'i birth u
D'Ailwis lie Jubajnvilb. Fpopie Ccltl4u«. t3-3<
4*0-41$, >iu1 tny rcnurk» oa the whole inciilail. TranMctJoMof iheSi
Inletnatlonal Folk -Lore CoogrcB.

CHAPTER IV

The imrama or Oversea Voyage lileralure— The Navigatio S. Brendani—
The Voyage of Moektuin— Professor Zimmer's views concerning the
development of [his literature— The points of contact between Maelduin
and Bran: (a) Ihe wonderland of the amorous queen, (Í) Ihe island of
Imilation — Summary of these episodes in Maelduin. comparison with Bran,
discussion of relalion between the two works— The portion common to
both works ÍDdependenl of each other, similarity due to use of the same
material— Fealmcs common lo all the stories hit!

Of all classes of ancient Irish mythic fiction this is the
most famous and the one which has most directly affected
the remainder of West European literature. For the Voyage
of Saint Brandan, which touched so profoundly the imagina-
tion of tnedixvat man, which was translated into every
European tongue, which drove forth adventurers into the
\Vesiera Sea, and was one of the contributory causes of the
discovery of the New World, — the Voyage of Saint Brandan
is but the latest and a definitely Christian example of a genre
icf story-telling which had already Nourished for centuries in
'Ireland, when it seemed good to an unknown writer to dress
the old half-Pagan marvels in orthodox monkish garb, and
lh\is start them afresh on their Iriutnphal march through the
liierjture of the world.
The imrama literature has been investigated by Professor

t63

MAELDUIN

Zimmer with all his wonted acutencss, subtlety, and emdjtlj
Other experts do not accept all his results; I myself faQl
follow him in every detail. But the main results of his S'
seem to roe assured, and as all the documents are accca
in English or Latin, it is open to any reader lo control I
statement of the case and satisfy himself as to the correct
of his judgment.'

The following tales belonging to this class of romance
have come down lo us in Irish, out of the seven, at least,
which were known to the compiler of the great story list
preserved in the Book of Leinster: The Voyage of
Maelduin, The Voyage of the Sons of O'Corta, The Voyage
of Snegdus and Mac Riagla (not mentioned in the Hook
of Leinster list); and in Latin, the Navigatio S, Brendant,
of which a thirteenth-century Irish adaptation exists aa
part of a more extensive life of the Saint. Professor
Zimmcr argues, and proves, I think, conclusively, that the
Voyage of Maelduin is the oldest of existing tales, that it
was the model upon which and the quarry out of which the
later imrama, and notably Saint Brandan's Voyage, were builL
It had, however, been preceded by the \'o)age of the Son»
of O'Corra, the original version of which, now lost, lias been
replaced by a thirteenth-cent oty rifacimcnto, save the open-
ing portion, which he thus looks upon as being the oldest

' Prorenot Ziminer'i uticle It (tie one lefcttci] lu in ihe jirdócc, tmfra,
p. lo6 ; Ml. Whillcjr Stakca tuu cUiicil uid inniliint ilw Vuyage of
MÉelduin, R.C. ii. i-, the Voyage of Sncgtlui atii) Mac Ki^Ui
R.C ii., lh« Voys^e of tho Sons of O'Com, K.C. xiv. An
•dapiatjon of Madiluin anil the O'CouM may be found in Ihc lecond
edilioD of Joyce'* I'lld Cchic Romances. Tlieie U alio a French vouon
of Macliluin, D'AiboJi Av Jubainfille, Epopi^ Celtiquc, 449>50i. Aa
excellent luDimary of tlic laleti reteafch Jcvoied to tlie Irúh imanitiuf

tic round In M. Boki'* article, Komaaia, xaiii. t

MAELDUIN

163

fragment of this genre of story-telling. This original Voyage
of the O'Corras took shape, he holds, in the early eighth
century, as he ascribes Maelduin's Voyage 'at the latest to
the same century' (p. 789). He considers that one of the
component elements of ihe imrama literature was precisely
descriptions of the Happy Otherworld, as we find them in
Bran and Connla. This conclusion must be tested with all
possible rigour ; if incorrect, it matters little, so fat as the date
of Bran is concerned, whether Professor Zimmer has undet-
or over-rated the age of Maelduin. Accepting, as 1 do fully,
his contention that Maelduin presents Ihe earliest form of the
episodes common to all these stories, it is to this talc that I
shall restrict my comparison with Bran.'

Maelduin's Voyage.
A brief outline of the story is necessary for the intelligence

Maelduin sets forth oversea
ind, by a wizard's advice, he

of the points to be discussed.
to seek his father's murderers, ;

IB to take with him seventeen companions, neither more r
less. But at the iasl moment his three foster-brothers, who
have not been included among the seventeen, clamour to
accompany him, and, when refused, cist themselves into the
sea and swim after the vessel, Maelduin has pity upon them
and takes them in, but this disregard of the wizard's injunc-
tion brings its punishment, and it is only after long wander-
ings, the visit of some thirty unknown islands, and the death
or abandonment of the three foster-brothers, thai Maelduin is
able to fulfil his quest and return to Ireland.

' At the tame lime I would cmphaiise the fail ihiit ihe present version

lof Maelduin is composile, and ha^ ceitainly been aditecl to and interpolaled,

probably down lo the end of the tenth ccnturf. All dites based ugioii oui

'c iherefaie open lo doubt.

.64

THE AMOROUS QUEEN

There arc two main points of contact between the Voyages
of Bran and Maelduin, Doth describe a land dwell in hy an
amorous queen who welcomes the mortal visitor, and who is
most reluctant to let him depart ; both also describe a land
which has this peculiarity that the mortal who lands upon it
is forced to do exactly as its inhabitants, and seems to lose
at once all knowledge of or care for his former companions.
Both episodes must be fully discussed.

The Islakd of the A

Qi;ei

The twenty-seventh island at which Maelduin and his com-
panions touch is large, and on it a great tableland, heather-
less, grassy, and smooth, And near the sea a fortress, large,
high, and strong, and a great house therein, adorned, and with
good couches. Seventeen grown-up girls are there preparing
a bath. When the wanderers see this Maelduin feels sure the
bath is for them. But there rides up a dame with a bordered
purple mantle, gloves, with gold embroidery, on her hands, on
her feet adorned sandals. She alights, enters the fortress, and
goes 10 bathe. One of the damsels then invites the seafarers ;
they too enter, and all bathe. Food and drink follow, and at
nightfall the eighteen couples pair off, Maelduin sleeping with
the queen- On the morrow she urges ihem to slay : 'age will
not fall upon you, but the age that yc have atuined. And
lasting life yc shall have always ; and what came to you last
night shall come to you every night without any labour.'
Maelduin asks who she is, and she answers, wife of the king
of the Island, to whom she Iwrc seventeen daughters ; at her
husband's death she had taken the kingship of the island ;
and unless she go '«^ Í"diíc the folk every day what happened
the night before would not happen again. Maelduin and his
men stay three months, and it seemed to them th

THE AMOROUS QUEEN

i6S

three months were three years. The men murmur and urge
Maelduin to leave, and reproach him with the love he bears
the queen, and one day, when she is al the judging, they lake
out the boat and would sail off. But she rides after them,
and flings a clew which Maelduin catches, and it cleaves to
his hand ; by this means she draws them back to land. Thrice
this happens, and the men accuse Maelduin of catching the
clew purposely ; he tells off another man to mind the clew,
whose hand, when touched by ii, is cut off by one of the sea-
farers, and thus they escape.

An obvious variant of the visit to the wonderland of fair
damsels is to be found in the sixteenth and seventeenth adven-
tures. The first describes a lofty island, wherein are four fences,
of gold, silver, brass, and crystal, and in the four divisions,
kings, queens, warriors, and maidens. A maiden comes to meet
them, and brings them on land and gives them food, and
whatever taste was pleasing to any one he would find therein ;
liquor, also, out of a little vessel, so that they sleep three days
and three nights. And when they awake they are in their boat
at sea, and nowhere do they see island or maiden. The next
island has a fortress with a brazen door, and a biidge of glass,
and when they go upon this bridge they fall down backwards.
A woman comes out of iho fortress, pail in hand, takes water,
and returns to the fortress. 'A housekeeper for Maelduin,'
say his men, but she scorns them, and when they strike the
brazen door it makes a sweet and soothing music, which
sends them to sleep till the morrow. Three days and three
nights were they in that wise. 'On the fourth day she comes,
beautiful verily, wearing a white mantle with a circlet of gold
round her hair, a brooch of silver with studs of gold in her
mantle, and a filmy silken smock next her white skin.' She
greets each man by his name : ' it is long since your coming

1 66

THE AMOROUS QUEEN

here hath been known and understood.' She takes tbem ii
the house, she gives them food, every savour thai each (
sired he would find therein. His men then urge Maelduia fl
oRcr himself to her, and propose to her that she should sho|
affection lo him and sleep with him. But, saying that i"
IcDOws not and has never known what sin was, she leaW
ihem, promising an answer for the morrow. When i
awake they are in their boat on a crag, and they see not t
island, nor the fortress, nor the lady, nor the place whei
they had been.

The frame of Maelduin's Voyage is so elastic that the 1)
elusion in one narrative of variant forms of the same episa
need not surprise us. That successive story-tellers, or t
scribers, should adopt this device to increase the extent, and, Í
the opinion of former days, the value of their wares, is í
sonant with all we know of pre-mediieval and medi»
literature. We are justified in making use of the three ver "
to recover the idea of the damsel-land, as it existed in Í
minds of the original author of Maelduin, and of the c
tinuatora, to whom is probably due much of the work i
now exists.' It is substantially the same as in Bran's Voyaj^
The mortal visitor is wckornetl to the same perpetual round 4
simple sensuous delights ; he shall not age, he shall not dec
he shall have the savour of whatever food pleases him, |
shall enjoy love, in undiminished vigour, 'without laboor^
the supernatural nature of the land is apparent, it withdraws
itself from mortal ken in a night, the mother of seventeen
grown-up daughters is still young a»d desirable.'

' The fu:l thai tome of the lodilcnti uvi acMtéuríct may be aJUitk
to ibe orif^iul ACODunl a, ia ihb cue, at compantlvely Utile in
u ihey mint «qualljr be dnwo from ibc Hme traditioiuU itorehotuc

* Ziiomct, jsH, wuuy ucoanl lo> Itiii (orm of the ^riiodc bjr the

For purposes of comparison with Bran it is, however,
necessary to restrict ourselves to the twenty-seventh adventure,
which certainly formed part of the original work, a certainty
that cannot be felt as regards the sixteenth and seventeenth
adventures. A moment's speculation may he allowed as to
whether this latter, the adventurt; of the chaste island queen,
represents a fomi of the episode as shaped in the mind of a
story-teller imbued with the Christian ideal of chastity. This
explanation is by no means so obviously the right one as might
seem at first blush. Chastity taboos occur in other bodies of
mythic legend uninfluenced by Christianity, and the mere
fact that this conception survives in the living folk-tale,'
the native elements and development of which are so
largely non-Christian, raises a strong presumption that we
have here a genuine variant, and not merely a Christian
modification, of the mortals' visit to the lady of the Other-
world,

Comparing, then, the adventures of Maelduin and Bran in
the Land of Women, we must not be infiuenced by the fact
that the supernatural nature of this land is far more emphasised
by the latter than by the former. This arises, in part, from
the exigencies of the story. The teller of Maelduin's fate had
to bring his hero back to Ireland, and the fact that his return
is scalhless thus loses much of its weight. On the other
hand, the conceptions of supernatural lapse of time, and of the
inevitable fate awaiting the mortal on his return to earth, are
ao closely united, that if one is found, 1 cannot but think the

I hfpothcsis of Virgilian influence. The narrator knew vaguely tbc ilory
L of Dido and Acneu, and shaped hii veision accordingly.

' Cf. CampbuU'i No. x., The Three Soldiers, and ro/ lemarks, Grail,

I. ix. Cf. also infra, cb. xii., the ScandiiiBViaQ sloiy of Tborkill's

I voyage lo Ihe Oihenvoild.

i6S

THE AMOROUS QUEEN

other must have been present. And it will hardly be deai^
that a trace of the supernatural lapse of time exists (then
expressed in such a way as to deliberately invert the corK
tion) in the words : ' it seemed to them those three raonthi
were three years.'' Nor, again, reasoning on the hypothesis
(by no means to be set aside as unworthy all discussion)
that Bran's Voyage is a simple literary development from
the episode in Maelduin, is it easy to understand why its
author should have amplified it by the addition of the fatal
return, nor whence he derived this conception ; nor, indeed,
why he should have specially picked out this episode from
among many others of equal interest and charm in Maelduin's
Voyage? This argument, it may be said, cuts both ways.
Meanwhile, it is sufficient to note that in so far as tliis
incident is concerned, the episode in Ntaclduin appears to be
fiirther removed from the original form than that found in
Bran. This impression is strengthened by other considera-
tiODs. The incident of the magic clew must appeal to every
reader as simpler and more straightforward in Kran. It is
natural that the welcoming queen should throw out a line to
the hesitating visitors ; natural that they, whose object it is to
reach her land, should grasp it. There is, on the other hand,
something ou/ré, something betraying deflection from the
natural development of the idea, in the use of tlic magic clew
as a lasso to ' rope ' the runaways. Another mark of the
secondary nature of the episode in Maelduin is furnished, lO|
my mind, by the horse-iiding queen, who here takes the p

of IhU lnvet»Iitn may be cited. S«c
5ci«nce t>( Fairy Tftl«s, ch. vji.-ii. Itui I nevcrlhcIcM Lclicve ihat ibe
iaddml u found in Mielduio picienU a «eokoicd and alleicd rurm of
Dm ofisiiul conccplioD.

THE AMOROUS QUEEN

169

_ hui

of Manannan, figured as the rider of the glistening sea*
horses.'

These various considerations justtfy, I think, the conclusion
that the presentment of the Land of Women, in Maelduin, is
later in date, and less close to the original form, than in Bran.
Before passing from this episode, it may be well to note that
part of the gear of the Happy Otherworld is found elsewhere
in Maelduin's Voyage ; thus, on the seventh island, the sea-
farers find three magic apples^' for forty nights each of the
three apples sufficed them ; ' again, on the tenth island,
they meet with the same apples, and ' alike did they forbid
hunger and thirst from them.' The thirty-first adventure gives
US, too, a glimpse of that land, unequ.illed, even in the
:h body of Celtic romance, for haunting suggest iveness
mystery. 'Around the island was a fiery rampart, and it
'as wont ever to turn around and about it. Now, in the
side of that rampart was an open door, and as it came opposite
them in its turning course, they beheld through it the island,
and all therein, and its indwellers, even human beings,
beautiful, numerous, wearing richly-dight garments, and feast-
ing with golden vessels in their hands. The wanderers heard
their ale music, and for long did they gaze upon the marvel,
delightful as it seemed to them.' Here will be noted the
description of the fortunate beings as 'human'; a sign, 1 take
it, that their original nature and connections were no longer
present to the mind of the story-teller.

' tl may t>e urged that the mention of riiJiiie indicales a posl-Viklng
. only Tot ihis cpiwde, bat also for the texts in wbicb Manuintia
■ Rguied as Ihe riilec of the ocEan steeds. I suspect that in both caies
Ming hu be«n substiluled Tor driving by the last scribe. Noc must
le ridi&g lest be applied loo ligidly as a meins of dating a particular

170 THE ISLE OF IMITATION

In the other episode which the iwo tales have in common,
the mysterious island, the morta,! visitor to which is constrained
to imitate the bearing of its inhabitants, the case in favour of
the earlier nature of Bran is by no means so clear. On the
contrary it is meaningless in this story, whereas it forms ua
integral and necessary part of Maelduin.

Three companions having joined Maelduin's ship in despite
of the wizard's warning, all must be got rid of. The first
perishes on the tenth island in this way ; the seafarers come
to a fort surrounded by a great white rampart, wherein nought
is to be seen but a small cat, leaping from one to another of
four stone pillars. Brooches and torques of gold and silver
are in the fort, the rooms are full of white rjuilts and shining
garments, an ox is roasting, flitches are hanging up, great
vessels stand filled with intoxicating liquor. Maelduin aska
the cat if all this is for them. It looks at him and goes on
playing. The seafarers dine and drink, and drink and sleep.
As they are about to depart, Maeldum's third foster-brother
pro|>oses to carry olT a necklace, and despite his leader's
warning seizes it. Then the cat leaps through him tike i
fiery arrow, burns him so that he becomes ashes, and goe)
back to its pillar.

llic fifteenth island they come to h large and full of human
beings, bbck in body and raiment, and resting not from wail-
ing. An unlucky lot falls ui>on one of Maelduin's two foster-
brothers to land on ihc island. He at once becomes a
comrade of theirs, weeping along with them. Two of the
wanderers start to bring him off, but they also fall under the
spell. Maelduin sends four others, and bitls them look not
at the land nor the air, and put garments round their auscs
and mouths and breathe not the air of the land and take not
their eyes off their comrades- In this way the two i

^H THE ISLE OF IMITATION 171

^^BbUowed the foster-brother are rescued, but he is left
^^^^ehind.

^^F The thirtieth island has a great level plain, and on it a great
multitude playing and laughing without cessation, Lots are
cast and fall on the third of Maelduin's foster-brothers. When
he touches land he begins to play and laugh continuaily.
After waiting a long time for him they leave him.

Evidently these three adventures stand in organic connec-
tion with the wizard's injunction. Whatever else may be
interpolation, these stood in the original draft of the story.
Equally evident is the fact that paragraph 61 of Bran's Voy-
age stands in no connection with the remainder of the tale,
and is in fact a pure excrescence. Yet, can we look upon it
as an inierpolation from Maelduin or some other now lost
imram ? There are not wanting signs that here, as in other
■Is of Maelduin, the story has suifered change. It is note-
iworthy that in the first and last cases, it is each lime stated
he Maelduin's third foster-brother who is the victim. This
lay be inadvertence on the part of the narrator, or a mere
scribal error, but it may also bear witness to a time when only
one companion had to be sacrificed. Far more significant in
ithis connection is the fact that the first victim is slain, the
:hers merely left behind. The first episode wears a far more
:ha)C aspect than the others. I shall have occasion to cite
lescriplions of the Otherworid, both in Celtic and non-Celtic
mythic romance, which present analogies lo this solitary
palace full of riches, guarded only by a mysterious animal,
and to insist upon what may be called the theft-taboo as an
essential element of visits to the Otherworid. It may there-
fore be surmised that the author of Maelduin, desirous for some
reason of triplicating the original incident of the comrade left
behind in the Otherworid, in punishment of some offence

i7í

BRAN AND MAELDUIN

against its laws, made use of the Isle of Joy, and gave a
companion in the Isle of Wailing. But this hypothci
favour of nhich several other reasons could be urged, ioM
ways accounts for the incident in the Voyage of Bran,
we must be content to look upon either as a mere fni;
of a once complete episode, the true significance of which ■
been lost, or as a late and meaningless interpolatio

Relation betwekk Bran and Maeujuin.

In neither of these two cases, then, are we warrantett]
postulating a direct literary relation between the t
Id this, as in the other features they possess in conimoo, 1
similarities are due, not to direct Ijorrowing one from I
other, but to usage of a common stock of story-n
And if this is so it matters comparatively little whether |
actual composition of our present Bran precede or pos
that of Maelduin. The fact that in the latter certain incidents
have lost their pristine form, preserved in Bran, vouches
better for the archaic character of this tale than any other
fact that could he adduced. Time is required for incidents
such as these lo adapt themselves to new conventions of
storytelling, lo change their character, as we have every
reason to suspect has been the case in Maelduin's Voyage.
Before such a concq>tion as that of the Happy Otherworld
could have become the vague commonplace we find it in
Maelduin, it must have counted ages of acceptance and

' It might be contended ih«t ihe two UUniU of wailing 4inl of Joy at
lo«ni from Chtiiliaa Ic^nil, llic one alanclini; for hMicn Ibc other far
hell, and th«t Ihej have tieeu rominiicinctl iiy ihc itoiytellei lo whom we
uWD our pieaeat text of MAcldiun. Cf. too in^a, dmp. xil, fur a com-
puUon of certain IcBtum in ihU pmliaa of MuIJuin with the ScwiU.
Mfiui tíorf of Thixkiir* jwitncj lo the Olherworld. ~

BRAN AND MAELDUIN

■73

artistic handling. But is il true that this conception is found
in Maelduin in a later stage of development than in Bran
or Connla? If the facts already cited are not held of
sufEcient weight to support the contention, consideration of
the main difference, hitherto left unnoted, between the two
classes of tales will, I think, enable us to decide the question
definitely. Bran and Connla and the Sick Bed of Cuchulinn
are concerned with persons and conditions, only to be found
in Gaelic romance In the special aspect under which they
present themselves to us ; but Maelduin, launched forth as it
were on the high seas, wanders into a nameless, dateless,
undetermined region which has but few points of contact,
and those indefinite, with the remainder of Gaelic legend.
Yet it is not the indefiniteness of the folk-lore protoplasm
out of which myth and heroic saga develop by selection and
individualisation of certain elements, but the indefiniteness
of an artificial literary genre, which has discarded the mould
into which the imagination of the race had previously been
cast, with a view to acquiring greaier freedom and increased
capacities. In the result the author of Maelduin and his
fellow story-tellers were fully justified. Imaginings which might
have failed of acceptance, had they remained purely Gaelic in
circumstance, won through them entrance into the literature
of the world. But as regards the development of Gaelic
mythic literature, the Ímrama of which Maelduin is the type
e on a bypath and not on the main road ; if we follow this
mown we come upon works which continue the tradition of
pran and of Connla; we remain in a world of mythic fantasy
a which the imrama have little part, with which Bran and
Connla are indiusolubly connected and the consideration of
|rhich must now engage our attention.

CHAPTER V

the cowception of thb hapnf othbrwoku) as 1
god's land

The wonderland ot the hollow hill— Tbe home of the Tuntha De t

Th« Taellman Blaine, or Wooing of Eluin, summary of stury— Retatioa
of the hollow hitl (o Ibe Ownea Elysium— Eapoitlion uid crillciliD of
Pniftasor Zimmrr'i viewi — Laegaire Mac Crimtbainn's viiil to Kacfy,
summary of nory. discussion of date, modificolion of older o
possible influence of Scandinaiian Walballa.

The Tuatha Dk Danann.

All the variants of our theme hitherto laid t>efore llie reader
have this, at least, in common. The mysterious wonderbnd
lies across the water. But this is not the only form which the
conception of a happy land of delight dwell in by beingf
immortally young has assumed in Irish mythic romance, la
tales dating from ilie eighth century at the very latest, tales tbe
incidents, jietsonages and spirit of which animate Irish legend
for the thousand years that follow, and still form one of the
staples of Irish peasant belief, we find a tntic of supcrhumaa
beings whose abiding dwelling-place is ihc fairy muuntl, tbe
hollow hill. We have already met these beings. They are
ttic Tuatlui De Danann of llie annals, the Folk of the Goddess
Dana, who hehl the sovereignty of Ireland prior to the arrtval
of the sons of Mil, by whom they were disposseucd of
earthly sway. Manannan an<! Fann and Lug, (lie fiuberp

THE WOOING OF ETAIN

'75

CuchuHnn, are of this race. They are the ' fairies ' of the
modem Irish peasant, who calls them by the same name as
did the stofy-teller of Connla a thousand years ago : {aes) side,
le folk of the mound.

These beings are connected with the oversea Elysium. In
description of their land, which though in Ireland is not
of mortal Ireland, there is much that recalls the Land of
Women or Boadach's realm. Yet marked as are t!ie re-
semblances, the differences are equally marked. Before dis-
cussing the relations between these two presentments of the
Otherworld it may be well to cite a text which is of equal
antiquity with those we have already discussed and in which
a common kinship of colour and tone exists in a very marked
degree.

The Wooing or Etain.
The Tochmarc Etaint, or Wooing of Etain, is one of the
Stories preserved by the Book of the Dun Cow, and which, if
Professor Zimmer be right, represents, in the shape under
which it has come down to us, a fusion of older and dis-
cordant versions made in the early eleventh century. Linguis-
tically it has the same marks of antiquity as the stories of
ran and Connla, in other words, it may go back to the eighth
f possibly the seventh century. The tale runs thus : ' —
I Etain, originally the wife of Mider, one of the Tuaiha De,
fr reborn as a mortal and weds Eochaid Airem, high king of
teland. Midtr still loves her, and when she refuses to follow
Elm he games for her with her husband and wins. But Etain

^ The Tochmatc Etain is sunnnarised by Professor Zlmmet, LU. sSj-
I, by M. d'Aiboia de JubainviHe, Cycle Mylhologiijue, 311 (^ uj., and
^O'Cuny, MC- iii. 190-194. In rendering Ihe veise, I bave cumpued
I Gi^lUh, French, nnd Genntn versions, and the whole bu been
d by ProTensor Meyer.

176 THE WOOING OF ETAIN

is still unwilling to leave Eochaid, and to decide her he I

the following song :—

'Woman of the while skin, will thou come with me to (he*

land where reigns sweet-blended song ; there prim

blossoms on the hair ; snowfair the bodies from top to to& 1
There, neither lUTmoil nor silence; white the teeih there, bla

the eyebrows ; a delight of the eye the throng of our hoi

on every cheek the hue of the fi
Though fair the sight of Erin's plains, hardly will they »

after you have once known the Great Plain.
Heady lo you the ale of Erin, but headier the ale of (he C

Land. A wander of a land the land of which I speak^ Í

youth there grows to old age.
Streams gentle and sweet flow through that land, the cboi

mead and wine. Handsome (?) people without bleu

conception without sin, wiihoul ci '

: beheld. The darkness produced^

s from bcint; numbered.

nan, to my strong folk, a crown shall 4

s tieah and beer, new milk as a d

We behold and :

Adam's fall hides u

When thou corneal, w(
thy brow — fresh s

shall be given thee by me, O white-skinned w

Not only will it be noticed is the presentment of I
Elysium substantially the saroe as in the stones of Bran Ú
Connia, not only is there the same insistence upon a n
ing round of simple, vivid, sensuous delights, but the Chríatlí
element is introduced in the same casual way, furmitig i
excrescence upon rather than an integral portion of the ti
Here we have obviously the same ideal of the liapi)y C
world as in Bran and Connla, affected too in its ulliii
ptcscntinent by Ihc same historic factors.' For the put
of this investigation wc must determine if possible the rel

' Tb«re ii tikewite Úie lanie connection of the t'
Uappr Othcrwoili] »nd of Rcbtnh.

> coDceptioa* 4

ZIMMER ON THE 'SID" BELIEF 177

between these varying forms of one conception, that which
locates it oveisea and that which places it in the hollow hill.

Professor Zimmer's Account of the 'Sid' Belief,

I The question has come before Professor Zimmer, and he
has discussed it with his wonted aculeness.^ He has little
doubt as to the correct explanation. The Irish Pantheon
was once as fully organised as that of the Germanic races, it
comprised beneficent and malevolent beings, gifted with the
attributes and characteristics which distinguish the immortal,
whether god or demon, from the mortal. Christianity came
ftnd made a relatively rapid conquest of Ireland ; the male-
volent beings of the older mythology sunk to giants and
monsters, the beneficent ones became dei terrcni, as the Book
of Armagh phrases it, local, on the whole friendly powers,
having their dwellings in the mounds and hillocks; the life
they led in the hollow hill was gradually enriched with every
attribute and characteristic the fancy of the race had
bestowed upon their former dwelling-places, and notably
upon the oversea Elysium ; this transference antedates our
oldest texts such as Connla or Cuchulinn's Sick Bed, in which
we find a curious mixture of the two conceptions without any
recognition of the inconsistency at times involved.

1 cannot altogether share Professor Zimmer's opinion. I
grant the confusion existing in our present texts — thus the
maiden who summons Connla and carries him off oversea,
speaks of her kindred as aes siile ; thus Fann and Liban are
addressed in Cuchulinn's Sick Bed as ' women of the hill,'
and they too dwell across the water. 1 grant the incon-
sistency involved, for whilst in the descriptions of the oversea
Elysium the absence of strife and contention, of death and
' Pp. a74 Bt itf.
M

178 ZIMMER'S THEORY DISCUSSED

pain are most strongly insisted upon, the Tuatha De Danann
share the passions of mortal men ; they have their wars aod
contentions, death is possible amongst them. But I da not
think it necessary to argue that the one conception must
have preceded the other, and that there was any conscious
transference of attributes from the one to the other. Assum-
ing for the moment that we have before us varying visions of
a god's land, is it not evident that tliere must be an inevitaUe
sameness about them, that no matter how definitely they ttof
be localised their sta]>1e must consist of vague and con-
ventional descriptive commonplaces ? Assuming again that
divine personages are the subjects of these descriptions, need
it surprise us to Rnd different dwelling-places assigned to
them? Finally, if the sanclityof the fairy mound l>e a product
of the confusion caused by the introduction of Chrisltanity,
why, may we ask, should it have assumed this special fotm?
Why should the gods have withdrawn themselves within the
hills unless these had already been noted haunts of tbetrt?
The answer to this question involves fundamental problems of
the history of religious belief. \\'ithout at this point discussing
questions upon which some light will I hope be shed in the
course of the present investigation, it may suffice to say that
(wo main elements probably enter into the liJe tictief : (he ODc,
veneration paid lo great natural features, mountains, riven^
or other, originally conceived of as animated by a life of their
own, secondarily as being tlie home of beings wiser and more
powerful than man ; the other, respect and worship paid to
the funeral mound where dwell the shades of the ancestors.'

' MaDf Kbolin irould Intupoie lay * orígiiulijr ' kod ' («modiiUj,'
bul I (hlnk Iheie It clear «Idence thxl Ihc wcnhip ot peal notiml
object*, »■ Buch, preceded (h«t pud la thm u clmiliof-pUea of d

ZIMMER'S THEORY DISCUSSED

'79

It is conceivable ihat the Irish bad progressed beyond
I either stage, had reached the cult of departmental gods
of nature, to use Mr. Lang's happy phrase; possible also
that the older elements, temporarily relegated to ihe back-
ground during the sway of the organised nature-mythology,
reasserted themselves in the popular minds once this latter
had yielded before the advent of Ciiristianity. In this sense
Professor Zimmer's account of the development that look
place would, in a measure, be correct, but only in so far as it
is clearly borne in mind thai what may be called the earthly
presentment of the god's land is in origin and essence as old
if not older than that which placed it in an oversea Elysium.
If this is so, pictures of the side life in Irish legend, whilst
perhaps aifected by the oversea stage of mythic fancy, are in
themselves of equal antiquity, and possibly more archaic
nature.

The foregoing paragraphs may seem to tacitly assume that
which this study purposes to investigate, the mythic non-
Christian origin of the descriptions of the Happy Otherworld.
In laying before the reader texts largely concerned with the
mysterious people of Faery and their dwelling-places, it was,
however, impossible to avoid mention of Professor Zimmer's
hypothesis of their relation to stories of the Bran type, and
criticism of that hypothesis in so far as it seemed defective.
To supplement the two views sketched above, which are one
in essentials, though they diOer in accidents, a third possibility
may be mentioned. The belief in the side, in the Tuatha De
Danann, which is, substantially, as I have said, the fairy belief
of the modem Irish peasant, may be a product of that contact
of the Irish folk-mind with the hardy and aggressive paganism
of Scandinavian invaders of Ihe ninth and tenth centuries.
Extravagant as such an hypothesis may seem, it should not be

i8o LAEGAIRE MAC CRIMTHAINN

discarded without a hearing.^ Until rurther notice I do i
wish to prejudge tlie question, and resume my citation of tl
texts.

Laegaire mac Crihthainm in Faery.

Mr. Standish Hayes O'Grady has edited and translate
from a fifteenth century ms., the Book of Lismore, a i
entitled Laegaire mac Crimthainn's visit to the fairy v
Mag Mcll, of which a text is also found in the I
Leinster, but without this heading. The tale telU how x
men of Connaught were assembled near Lough Naneane C
lake of birds) under their king Crimthann Cass, they belk
a man coming towards them through the mist, wearing a fl
fold crimson mantle, in his hand two five-barbed darts, a gold-
rimmed shield slung on him, at his belt a goldhilced sword,
golden-yellow hair streaming behind him. He declares his
name and errand in answer to the greeting of Laegaire, the
king's son ; he is Fiachna mac Retach of the men of the tiJ,
his wife has been carried oif by GoU, son of Dolb. seven battles
he has fought to win her back, and he is come to seek looilal
aid. He sings these verses :

' Most beautiful of plains is the Plain of Two Mists'
On which a host of siJ men full of valour
Stir up pools of blood.
Not far hence is it.

< ThU Ihcoiy hu unly been vaeuelf hinted ax by Prafe*
Ncnniui, 213. Ct. my remark*, Ftli l^i. Ív. jSj.

* Sllvi Gadelica, 390. He omiu the venc. the lmi«lst>oa
owe to Profeuor Merer.

' Thii. iccording tu H. 3, iS, p. 709. wu the >adeiil xvun
now Lough Nuiane io Countx Kotcommua {bót dao le fonin (01 h
> Di Chtó i. Loch na o-Ea Mtlá).-{K. M.]

LAEGAIRE MAC CRIMTHAINN iSi

We have drawn foaming red blood
From the stately bodies of nobles.
Over their corpses countless women folk
Shed swift tears and make moan.'

The hosts of Faety are thus described :

' In well-devised bailie array,
Ahead of their fair chieftain
They march amidst blue spears,
White curly-headed bands.

They scatter the battalions of the foe,

They ravage every !and I have attacked.

Splendidly they march to combat

An impetuous, distinguished, avenging host I

No wonder though their strength be great.

Sons of kings and queens are one and alL

On all their heads are

Beautiful golden-yellow manes.

With smooth comely bodies.

With bright blue-starred eyes,

With pure crystal ' teeth,

With thin red lips.

Good they are at man-slaying.

At all lime melodious are they,

Quick-witted in song-making.

Skilled at playing ^fiacÁe//.'

Laegaire determines to aid the fairy chieftain, and followed
by fifty fighting men dives down into the loch. They find a
strong place and an embattled company. Fighting ensues, and
they win to the fort of Mag Mell, where the lady is imprisoned.
Laegaire calls upon the defenders of the fort to surrender her,

' glainib Fea., te^A g!aÍiii<iib.—[K.. IX.\

i8i LAEGAIRE MAC CRIMTHAIKN

' your king is fallen, your chiefs are ilain,' says he, and he pro-
miics them life in exchange for the queen. So it was done.
Mid a> «he came out she pronounced that which is known is
the lament of the daughter of Eochaid the Dumb :
' Hateful day on which weapons are washed

For (he sake of the dear dead body of GoU son of Dolbfl

H« whom I loved, he who loved me.

Laegaire Liban— liltle he cares !

Goll I loved, son of Dolb,

Weapons by him were hacked and split,

By the will of God I now go out

To Fiachna mac Retach.'

I.aegairc returns with her and lays her hand in Fiachnn
and that night Fiachna's daughter, Sun-tear, is coupled «
Lacgaire, and with his fifty warriors fiRy other women, and á
a year's end they abide there. Lacgairc would then i
to leclc tidings of their own land, and Fiachna enjoins 'if J
would cDtne back take with you horses, but by no mtt
dismount from off them.' They go then, and come i
Connaught assembled and mourning for them. 'Appr
us not,' cries I^aegaire, 'we arc here but to bid you fare
In vain Crimlhann pleads 'leave me not, the royal powet
the three Connaughts shall be thine, their silver and t~
gold, ihcir hones and their bridles, their fair women shall |
at thy will, only leave me not.' Ijiegnire makes answer :

'A marvel this, O Crimthann Cass,
When it raÍDs 'lis beer that falls I
An hundred thousand the number of each host,
Tliey go from kingdom to kingtlom.

Kuble the tw eel- sound ingr music of the W!
From kingdom lo kingdom one goes,

LAEGAIRE MAC CRIMTHAINN

Drinking from burnished cups.
Holding converse wiih the loved one.

My wife, my own unto me,
Is Sun-tear, Fiachna's daughter ;
A wife, too, as I shall tell thee.
There is for every man of my fifty.

We've brought from the fort of the Pleasant Plain
Thirty caldrons, thirty drinking-horns,
We've brought the plaint that chants the sea,
Daughter of Eocbaid the Dumb,

A marvel this, O Crimthann Cass,
I was master of a blue sword.
One night of the nights of the JiV,
1 would not give for all thy kingdom.'

So he turns from them, and enters again into the sid, where
with Fiachna he exercises joint kingly rule, nor is he as yet
come out of it.

The language of this tale is comparatively modern, accord-
ing to Professor Meyer ; the poems as we have them may,
I he thinks, be compositions of the tenth century. I need
I nt)t repeat my contention thai a text may be found in a
I twelfth century ms. wholly written in Midtile Irish, and yet
1 in reality be much older. But the presumption raised by the
I aspect of the language in favour of the comparative lateness
I of this text is borne out by other considerations. I have
I already instanced the use of the horse for riding purposes on
I'land as probably the result of the Viking invasions, and I
■ irould further note the fierce, warlike tone of the first stanzas
I descriptive of sid life, as well as the description of the fairy
1 host, which might well be a picture taken from life of a Viking
|band. On the other hand, Laegaire's account of the del ight»

i84 LAEGAIRE MAC CRIMTHAINN

for which he is ready to forswear his heritage is, in part,
substantially ihe same as in the other tests that have passed
under the reader's eye. The same vivid but somewhat
monotonous realisation of physical enjoyment, touched here
also, as elsewhere, by the abiding delight of the Gaelic Celts
in the charm of music, is once more prcscnled to us, and we
catch in the mention of that plaint of the sea, Dumb Eochaid's
daughter, in the name Sun-tear given to the fairy king's
daughter, glimpses of what is apparently a purely mythical
world. Certain points of resemblance with Cuchulinn's Sick
Bed are noteworthy — the same insistence upon the warlike
side of Otherworld life, the wife who mourns the lost lover,
but returns, not unwillingly, to the husband who willingly takes
her back. One marked discrepancy between the talc of
Laegairc and the previously described visits to the Othctworld
remains to be noted. This mysterious land of delights lies
not, as in Bran, Connla, Cuchulinn's Sick Bed, and the
imrama, across the sea, nor, as in Etain's Wooing, within the
hollow hill, but beneath the waves. At first blush this appears
to be a secondary conception derived from that which pictuitfcj
the marvel land as lying beyond the western sea, but as H
shall sec later this is by no means certain.

If certain features in this and in Cuchulinn's Sick Bed Id
the impression on the mind that older, purely Irish conceptlt
of the Otherworld mingle here with ideas and dcscripti(
derived partly from the Scandinavian Valhalla, partly f
historical conditions which must have obtained in Ircl
during the Viking period, it should be borne in mind, hrt
that the tendency of both texts att com))are(l with Connla á
Etain's Wooing is to humanise the Otherworld by minimisinjt
as much «a possible the differences between its inhabitants
and mortal men, a tendency one can hardly imagine ai dae

SCANDINAVIAN INFLUENCE

i8S

to familiarity with the highly systematised Scandinavian
mythology; secondly, that the warlike, and what may be
called the abduction elements, were as potent in pre-Viking
as in Viking Ireland, the only difference being that strife was
internecine instead of being directed against a foreign foe.
Nevertheless, it cannot be gainsaid that both stories seem to
testify, in a manner more easily apprehended than illustrated,
to altered social and intellectual conditions.

CHAPTER VI

Didoclic lUf of Oil! OiiiCTworld concpplion— flfliVi an Scail (The CbaiD|»on's
EoUiy). summary nnd discuisloo of slory — Cormoc mac Art in F«0y,
Eummory and discussion of sionr—Tbc Happy Oihcrworld inlbeOnUide
cycle— The Tmn Clidna ppiiode of the AgnHnmh nil Senoraih, com-
parison with the áinHiAinciai of Tonn Clidna ond Tuag tnHr — The
Btbittd episode in the Agallam^ «a StHi/rach — The nltribute of gigontte
slBtnre in the Oaslanic ryde— The Ad»cntut« of Telpir, son of Out,
liicu&aion of Slory— The Vision ot MacCon([1inne.

The Champion's Ecstasy,

The tales hitherto considered are desiiiatc of any didi
character. They were told either as examples of the a
mythic traditions of the race, or, as probably in the (
of the imrama, with the simple intention of amusing,
there also exist narratives, tmceahle in jiart to an early p
in which the machinery of Ihe Othcrworld is used for d
purposes, whether of instruction or moral exhortation,
most Tcmarlcahle of these is the traa known as £mit an Í
(The Champion's Ecstasy), edited and translated by O'C
(MS. Mat. 387-388, App. cxxviiL) from a fifteenth-cec
Irish MS. Although the ms. tradition is a late one, the l
itself vaa known to Fbnn Manistrech, who died in 1056,1
who used it for historical purposes. It professes to I

^^ THE CHAMPION'S ECSTASY 187

" prophecy revealed to Conn the Hundred Fighter concerning
his descendants, kings of Ireland. The story in so far as it
concerns us runs thus (I summarise O'Curry's version) : —

A day that Conn was in Tara, he went up at early mom
upon the royal rath, and with him his three druids. Every
day he went up there with that number to view all the points
of the heavens that the sid men should not rest on Ireland
unperceived by him. His feet met a stone and he stood
upon it, whereupon the stone screamed, so thai it was heard
all Tara and over Bregia. Then Conn asked of the druids
what ihat was and wherefore it screamed. At the end of
fifty days and three, the druids told him the name of the
stone was Fdi ; it was brought from the Island of Foal, it
should abide for ever in the land of Tailtin.' ' Fal,' said the
dtuid, ' has screamed under thy feel, the number of its
screams is the number of kings that shall come of thy seed
for ever, but I may not name them.' As they were thus they
saw a great mist all around, so that they knew not where they
went from the greatness of the darkness, and they heard the
noise of a horseman approaching. 'It would be a grief to
us,' said Conn, ' if we were carried into an unknown country,'
The horseman let fly three throws of a spear at them, and the
last throw came with greater swiftness than the first. He
then bade Conn welcome, and they went forward until they
entered a beautiful plain. A kingly rath they saw and a

• As is well known, the slone went to Scotland with the Iiiah inviders
of the fifth ccnury, «is in due conise canied off by Edward the Fitsl
fifom Scone, and now forms the seal of the throne upon which the
(ovcreign of Great Brilaio is crowned. It is unfortunate the Druid's
prophecy Is imperfecl, 01 Íl would doublless have levenled these foilunea .
of the mystic stone. The Queen is the only European inanutch who is at I
once descended from a god (Woden) and crowned upon a stone brought 1
&om the Otheiworld,

iS8

THE CHAMPION'S ECSTASY

golden tree at its door ; a splendid house in it, thirty f
was its length. Within the house a young woman withJ
diadem of gold upon her head ; a silver kieve with hoops a
gold by her, and it was full of red ate, a golden can on i
edge, a golden cup at its mouth. The Seal (champioi
himself sat in his king's scat, and there was never found {
Tara a man of his great size, nor of his comeliness, for ti
beauty of his form, the wonderfulness of his face,
to them, ' I am come after death, and I am of the race Í
Adam ; Lug son of Eihlenn is my name, and I have come fl
reveal to thee the life of thine own sovereignty and of c
sovereign who shall be in Tara,' And the maiden in
house was the sovereignty of Erin for ever. This maiden |
vras that gave the two articles to Conn, namely, an ox rib t
a hog rib. Twenty-four feet was the length of the ox I
eight feet between its arch and the ground.

The remainder of the tract is concerned with the proptu
delivered by Lug to Conn.

O'Curry unfortunately made use of a fragmentary
sion. A far more complete one is found in an earlii
Oxford us., Rawl. B. 51Z, of the late fourteenth or c
fifteenth century, but the two versions agree fairly well j
the part common to both. The Oxford version purports to
be taken from tht; ' old book of Dub da Lethe successor of
Patrick ' (í'í. in the see of Armagh). Two bishops of this name
are known, of whom one died in 998, the other in 1061. If
we may trust the statement made by the scribe of the Oxford
MS., and there is really no reason to doubt it, out lale could
not be younger in its present form than the middle of the
eleventh century. The hnguistic evidence points in the same
direction. Mr. Whitley Stokes, who has placed his knowledge
of these texts at my disposal with hia usual kind counei}^—

THE CHAMPION'S ECSTASY i

infonns me that the description of Lug's palace contains many
old verbal forms, and that in his opinion the language of the
tract may well be as early as the latter part of the tenth century.
It is quoted by Flann Manistrech, who died in the middle of
the eleventh century, and the last king mentioned in the pro-
phecy is Flann Cinneh, son of Maelsechlainn, the opponent of
Cormac (to whom the compilation of Cormac's glossary and
other learned works is ascribed), who died in 914 a.d. As
the prophecy describes him as ' last prince of Ireland ' it must
be assumed to have originated some time l>eforD the monarch's
death. It is instructive to note how in the early tenth century
the personages and scenery of the Otherworld were thus used
as convenient machinery for the fabrication of a prophecy,
which doubtless owed its origin to the anxiety of some
Northern poet to bolster up the claim of the race of Niall to
the head kingship of Ireland. Instructive also that, whilst
the story-teller makes no attempt to radically modify the
primitive pagan character of these beings, he is yet anxious
to bring them within the Christian fold by representing them
as sons of Adam, dear proof that the process of transforming
the inmates of the ancient Irish Olympus into historic king*
and warriors had already begun.

I The Adventures op Coriuc in Faerv.

" From using the Folk of the Goddess as supernumeraries in
an historical mystification to making tbem serve as vehicles of
moral allegorising was but a step, a step we &nd taken in
the story which next claims our attention, it is concerned like
most of the preceding ones with the relations of Tuatha De
Danann and mortals. In the younger of the Irish epic lists
we find mention of the ' Adventures of Cormac,' and a tale

I under this title is preserved by several mss. of the fourteenth

igo CORMAC IN FAERV

and fifteenth centuries, from two of which, the Boolt o(
Ballymole and the Yellow Book of Lccan, it has been edited
and translated l>y Mr. Whitley Stokes (Irische Texte, iii., pp.
183-139). It runs as follows: —

On a May morning, as Cormac Mac Airl was on the Mound
of Tea in Tata, he saw an aged grey-haired knight coming
toward him, bearing a silver branch with three golden apples.
Very sweet music did that branch malce, wounded men and
women in labour, and folk enfeebled by sickness, would be
lulled to sleep by it, Cormac greeted the stranger, and asked
him whence he came. ' From the land of truth, in which is
neither age nor sin, neither sorrow nor care, envy nor jealous)',
hatred nor pride,' is the answer, 'Tis not so with us,' said
Cormac ; and he then begged the branch from the stranger,
which the latter promised him against the fulfilment of three
wishes he might frame. Leaving the branch with the king, he
departed, and only relumed at the end of a year. He
then claimed Ailbe, Cormac's daughter, and carried her off.
Her maidens cried three loud cries, but Cormac shook the
branch, and they fell into pleasant slumber. After a month
the stranger returned and took away Cairbrc, Cormac's son.
Again the king stilled Ihc grief of all by shaking the silver
branch. A third time the stranger came, and he claimed
Eithnc Taebfata, Cormac's wife. Full of grief, the king pur-
sued, and hi» men with him. Hut a thick mist overfelt them,
and, when it cleared, Cormac found himself alone on a great
plain. After seeing many marvels, the king came to a stately
palace, and entering, found a couple, husband and wife;
noble was the statute of the knight, debonn.iir hi« appearance,
his bearing that of no common man ; golden-haired wu his
wife, gold cncTowncd, beauteous beyond the women of earth.
Cormac i* bathed, though there wore none to bathe him.

CORMAC IN f-AKKV

I AAmnuds there came in a man, a fag/A lA •H'j'A 'fi hn rt^
band, a club in his left, a swine «lunt; bdiiud fiU tj«/ h. '"*

e was quartered and flung iatu the kettle, and (UMiatá
leunt that, save a true ulc «oi told lo each ffua/tcr, lb« fl
would never be done. The man \x0at and iHU br/w I
vwioe is killed and quartered uid Iwiied arid caMi, l/tit i
the morrow is whole aa ever. A tfuc tale, uy* tite lirtl^t
and effectively one quarter was found dcMi«. 'IIki k»ij[hl itifi
told of his com, which «owed nad cut aiul KinkCfcd ItM
and, eat of it as one might, it wa* never Ich nor mutv
tale, for the second quarter waa done. It «u ru^w tltc mití^
turn, and she told of hcrr tevim cowi and icvcn *hcep ; tlH
inillc of the cows and the wool of the ■hcei» t,uH'uxi\ the (
habitants of Ihe Land of Promise for food and r.lollilnjf.
true tale, for the third quarter w» done. Alt tumwl I
Connac, and he told how children and wife had \icen cvrrla
off and how he had followed ilieni. The \f\n wu now cooli«(
but Comuc refused to eat unin* he wu (crved at labia, i
bis wont was, by fifty Itnighti. The knight Miig him Lo ilecf

' and when he awoke, behold fifty knlghm, and lift ion and >
wife and his daughter I Ttiey tat down to table, and Corinai
marvelled greatly at the host'i golden goblet, «o richly choi

, was it. 'More marvellous arc iu propertie*,' «aid the ho*t|l
'it will break for three lies, but three true ihlngi make IfT
whole again.' Then Ihe host Hed Ihricc and the goblet brok<^^
but he made it whole again by declaring that (,'omiac'i wife ■
and daughter had not seen a man lince they kfl Tora, nor
had his son seen a woman. ' Take your family,' he then said
lo Cormac, ' and this goblet an well, and the «ilvcr branch to
soothe and solace you, but on the day you die, thc»e things
shall be taken away from you. For I am Manonnan, son of
Ler, Lord of the Land of Promise, and I brought you here that _

igi CORMAC IN KAERY

you might see the fashion of the land.' He then explained
the signification of the various marvels Cormac had beheld
on the plain, and afterwards Ihcy retired to rest. On the
morrow, when Cormac awoke, they four were together on the
meads of Tara, and by his side goblet and branch,'

The tale I have just summarised may, probably docs,
reproduce the essentials of the Adventures of Cormac vouched
for by the old epic list, but it has certainly been completely
rewritten, and represents a far later stage of Irish romance
than any of the stories hitherto cited, saving always Oisin in
Tir na n^og, and in some respects the latter talc, though far
younger in actual redaction, has preserved older fe^itures more
faithfully. It is no question of the verbal framework of the
tale modified to suit more modern ears ; a new spirit has been
breathed into the old conceptions, a spirit of didactic allegory,
stamping the whole, as does also a faint flavour of medixval
aurioisie, as a product of the bter middle ages. This very fact
gives additional value to the archaic simplicity with which the
charms and delights of Mammnan's realm are set forth. Re-
fine and embellish as the twelfth or thirteenth-century story-
teller may, the primitive nature of his material is apparent
The miUC'pail that empties not, the swine slain one day alive
the not, the self-garnering wheat, the inexhaustible fleece,
these are the simple elements of an early and unsophisticated
land of Cockayne which the fine-drawn allegorising of a later
period cannot obscure.

Thk Happv Otherworld m the Ossianic Cvcut ,

Corinac's adventures form a fitting traasiUon to the c

' A kt«r veniiM) bu boen pcinlei) tnú lr»iuUl«d hf Mr. Sui
Hayca O'GrmiJy, Ouiuiie Soc. liL I have uiinmuÍMj and ■
ration fof Mr. JuoU' Mor« Celtic Vtirj Tain.

THE OSSIANIC CYCLE

'93

sideration of a group of stories affording glimpses of the Happy
Olherworld which arc found imbedded in the Ossianíc cycle.
Without in any way prejudging the question of the origin of
the legends which have centred round Finn mac Cuniail and
his warrior band, it may be confidentiy affirmed that the bulk
of the tales in which his fortunes are recounted are consider-
ably younger than those which tell of the Ultonian knights, or
than the majority of the historic romances connected with
personages of the first six centuries of our era. And by
younger, I do not mean younger in respect of language only,
but in tone, spirit, and literary form. The Fenian romances,
as we have them, are the work of the professional story-telling
class, and, be the reason what it may, the saga of Finn
came into the hand of this class at a later date than did the
other cycles of Irish romance, at a date when it had
been affected by new historical and social conditions, had
elaborated new literary conventions, had developed a new
literary style. I have endeavoured elsewhere to account
for this fact by the hypothesis that the Fenian tales were
more specifically South Irish, and that they only attracted
official recognition, so to say, after the rise of the Brian
dynasty in the early eleventh century.' Certain it is that
a considerable portion of the Ossianic cycle must have
assumed, substantially, the shape under which it has
come down to us in the twelfth, thirteenth, and four-
teenth centuries. To avoid misconception 1 again repeat
that only Ihc form in which the matter is presented, not the
matter itself, is here spoken of. The latter is often essentially
the same as portions of earlier cycles, a fact which some
scholars would explain by wholesale transference of incident
Cf. my study upon the development of the Ossinnic sags, Waib and

Sirays, vol. ii. , 395-430 ; uid my re

194

OSSIANIC VERSIONS

and characleriaation. This I am chary of admitling s
a very limited measure. The stories in question are fom
the Agallamh na Scnorach, or Coilociuy of the Ancients,
of the most extensive prose texts of the Ossianic cycle, ]
served in several MSs. of the early fiftecnlh century, andj
product, in all probability, of the thirteenth or fourtee
century.^ In tone and spirit it may be described aa j
attempt to conciliate traditions, alien, if not hostilei j
Christianity in their origin and essence, with Christian lege»
formally, it is a tine example of a mode of narrative, altrayi
popular in Ireland, the 'framework* tale. Of all the Fenian
heroes, Caoilte and Oisin alone survive with a few followers.
Oisin betakes himself to the sidk of Ucht Cleiti^k, where was
his mother, Blai. Caoilte, wandering through Ireland, mceta
Patrick on a missionary round — 'fear fell upon the clerics
when they saw the tall men with their huge wolf-dogs, for
they were not people of one epoch nor of one time with the
clergy,' The saint alone retains his courage and presence of
mind, sprinkles holy water over the visitors, whereupon a
thousand legions of demons that had been floating over ihcra
departed forthwith into hills and clefts and the other regions
of the country. The saint shows himself full of a charmingly
sympathetic curiosity respecting the past history of the land,
and finds in the aged hero an inexhaustible mine of infonnji-
tion. Together ihey tread the length and breadth of Ireland ;
every mound and fort, evcrj- hÍU and fountain, suggests a
question to Patrick, nn answering story to Caoilte. The
latter, being asked why a certain ware is called Ton» Clidna,
relates as follows : Among Finn's bvouritc *quirC9 -ns Cinb-
ban, son of Eocbaid Red-weapon of Ulidia. Now the Fanna
generally bad no Uking for him, as every womiin, matod t,
■ I uieMi. Sundiih lUya O'Gndj^KnionlaSUnC

THE CLIDNA STORY

I9S

inmated, fell in love with him, so Finn was forced to part n-ith
Ciabhan on leaving the Fianna comes to the seashore,
Where he beholds a high-prowed currach in which are two
ifoung men, who turn out to be I^dan, son of the king of
Hndia. and Solus, son of the king of Greece. The three set
forth together over the sea, and greatly and fiercely were they
Btossed by ihe waves until at length they see a knight on a
■dark grey horse with a golden bridle. ' For the space of nine
• waves he would be submei^ed in the sea, but would rise on
' the crest of the tenth without wetting chest or breast.' He took
them to the ' land of promise ' and to Manannan's fort ; sweet
music was provided for them, games and tricks of cunning
jugglers. Now Manannan's arch-ollave had three daughters,
Clidna, Aife, and Edain, three treasures of maidenhood and

(chastity. The three straightway fell in love with the strangers,
and appointed to elope whh them on the morrow. They
■ailed away to Teite's Strand in the south of Ireland ; Ciabhan
lands and goes off to hunt in Ihe adjacent country, but the
* outer swell rolled in on Clidna, whereby she was drowned,'
as well as three pursuers from Manannan's land, Ildathach
»nd his two sons, who were enamoured of her.

Thb Dinnshenchas Version of the Clidna Story.

We luckily possess this story in a far earlier and more
archaic form, and we can obtain from comparison of the two
versions valuable light upon the mode of development, both
formal and spiritual, of Irish mythic romance, as well as
fresh information concerning the conception of the Happy
_ Otherworld, The earlier version is found in the so-called
Dinnshtnchús, an extensive text (ound in the Book of Leinsler

THE DINNSHENCHAS

and later mss.* This is a collection of traditions told j
account for place-names whether of natural or srtifid
objects, in other words, it is obviously the model upon fl

i of the Agallamh na Senorafh and sÍmUar tei
based themselves. The half-a-doien vaiiaot texts i
Dinnshmchas contains matter of varying age and/
it is probable that the idea of a my thico- topograph leal s
of Ireland is not older than the eleventh century, and t
even the oldest text, that of the Book of Leinster,
regards compilation and redaction, not much older than tl
date of transcription, t.t. than the first half of the t
century. But, as Mr. Whitley Stokes has well temarkl
' whatever be their date, the documents as they stand a
treasure of ancient Irish folklore, absolutely unafiectedt i
far as I can judge, by any foreign influence.' Some of d
matter indeed to be found in this collection is probably i
archaic as anything preserved by any other branch of t
Aryan-speaking peoples, and has been handed down to u
a manner which shows that the el eve nth- twelfth i
anti<iuaries who inserted it in the Dinnthenikas had absolol
no comprehension of its origin and significance.

With these few indications of the nature of the te« 1
guide the reader, I lay before him the dinmhttichas of Toi

> M>. Whillcy Sloka lus edited uid truulalcd the frifpncnt □
work contained in the Oiímd Ms., Rawl. B. 500 (Folk Lok, iii
printed (D. Nutt) under the title Uoillcy Uinnii;heiu'fau t in 1
Lore, IT., he hoi edited the fragment found in Kilbtide xvi. (teprli
und«f ihe title Edinburgh Dinnihenchu, D. Mutt) ; 6naJly in the
Cetlique, «oil. XV. And avL, lie but iiliidl and liuulaled ihe text k
n fifteenth century mi. prcMtvcd in (he libmty al Raines in Bi
■nil hM lupplementcd it fram the lal pieterrcd in the Itiok of l«<
Hr. SCiLDdiib Hayes U'GfwIy liai «dtted lad ttanaUled many lepw
AMwiflwAm ia bú A{i]Nadli Ui SUm Gaih&aw

THE CLIDNA DINNSHENCHAS

197

Clidna, which is one of those found in the Book of Leinster
version :^ 'CUdna, daughter of Genann, son of Tren, went
from the Hill of Two Wheels in the Pleasant Plain of the
Land of Promise, with luchna CiabfhaÍndech (I. Curly-locks)
to reach Mac ind Oc. luchna practised guile upon her.
He played music to her in the boat of bronze, wherein she
lay so that she slept. And he turned her course back, so
that she went round Ireland southwards, til! she came to
Clidna. This was the time when the illimitable sea-burst
arose and spread through the districts of the present world.
Because there were at that season three great floods of Erin,
lo wit, Clidna's flood, and Ladni's flood, and Bale's flood.
But not in the same hour did they rise. Ladra's flood was
the middle one. So the flood pressed on aloft, and divided
throughout the land of Enn, till it overtook yon boat with
the girl asleep in it, on the strand, and then was drowned
Chdna, the shapely daughter of Genann.'

The Edinburgh version of this dinnshenchas^ adds: 'As
also in S. Patrick's time Caoilte indited on the same
hill, in the course of that colloquy which the two held
anent Ireland's dinnshencAas,' which shows that the scribe
was familiar with the Agallamh as we have it. Before
commenting upon this story it may be well to cite another
dinnsktnchas which alludes to Clidna's wave, that of Tuag
Inbir, the more so as the tradition it preserves is of the same
nature, and as it likewise is concerned with the Happy Other-
world and the inmates thereof. The substance of this
dinnihefichas is found in the Book of Leinster in a com-
paratively speaking lengthy poem, attributed to a bard of the
\ Dame of Maile ; later mss. give it briefly in prose as follows : "

., No. 46.

> Cited SilvB Gftd., 538.

19» THE TUAG INBIR STORY

' Tuag, (Liughter of Conall, son of Elerscel was reared Í
Tara with a great host of Erin's kings' daughters about I
to protect her. After she had completed her fifth year 1
man at all was allowed to see her, so that the king of Ire
might have the wooing of her. Now Manannan sent t
her a messenger, one of his fair messengers, even Fer Fig
son of Eogabal, a fosterling of Manannan, and a Druid of I)
Tuatha De Danann, in a woman's shape, and he was t
three nights. On the fourth night the Druid chanted a s
spell over the girl, and carried her to Inver Clas, for t
was the first name of Tuag Inbir. And he laid her dot
asleep on the ground that he might go to look for a 1
He did not wish to awake her, so that he might take her I
her sleep to the land of Everliving ^Vomen. But a wave |
the flood tide came when he had gone and drowned the g
So then Fer Figail went on to his house, and Manani
killed him because of his misdeed. Whence the stave :

The Three Waves of the whole of Erin :

Clidna's Wave, Rudraige's Wave,

And the wave that drowned Mac Lir's wife

At the strand over Tuag Inbir.'
The Oxford version throws doubt upon the death of tl
maiden, adding, 'Or maybe it (the wave) was Manani
himself that was carrying her ofT.'

The lirsi of these stories is wholly concerned with personi
of the Tuatha De Danann. The Mac Índ Oc who is chesty
of his beloved (which he avenges by causing her to I
drowned and thus depriving his successful rival of hcr?)l
Angus, son of the Dagda, the 'good god,' himself rdcbn
ts the wisest wizard of the Tuatha Dc and the hero of t
talcs, several of an amorous nature.' In the second, moi
■ E^. tho fine tale, cUiicd anJ iiani^liicJ I? Dr. Edward Uldl

THE DINNSHENCHAS VERSIONS 199

and Tuatha De Danann are in opposition, and Manannan is
the same enterprising wooer as Mider and other princes in
Faery. The story in the Agallamk scents a compound of
both, with the mythic element minimised as much as possible,
and padded out with irrelevant conventional commonplaces
such as the wandering princes of Greece and India, whom the
story-teller introduces only to lose sight of. Its features are so
obviously the result of literary combination and development
of older material that it may safely be left out of account in
any attempt at reconstituting the original form of the tale.

Several points are noteworthy in the Dinnshenchas stories ;
the Happy Otherworld is designated as in Bran and Connla,
the Pleasant Plain, the Land of Promise, the Land of Ever-
living Women. Immortality seems implicitly denied to its
inhabitants by Clidna's death, but it is perhaps overstraining
the evidence to assert this, as it may possibly be due, as I
have hinted, to a special exercise of power on the part of the
Mac ind Oc, the leading chief of the Tuatha De Danann.
Finally the Oxford version of the Tuag Inbir dinnshenchas
yields the most mythical picture preserved by Irish legend of
Manannan the billow-rider, and also allows the surmise that
Clidna's death is no real passing from life, but that a similar
substitution of drowning for abduction by the god has taken
place as in the Tuag Inbir story.

The Bebind Episode in the Agallamh.

The other episode in the Agallamh which belongs to this

R. C. iii. 341, la late medixval Irish litemiuce, Angus tgures as a lott
of supcTnBlurol llitrun a1 Ruschid. It is hu duliglii to wnnder up and
down Ircinnd plnying tricks upon men, but in the end making il op to
hii victims. A story of this characici, ' The Slory-teUer at Fault ' will Iw
found in Mr. Jacobs' Celtic Fairy Talce.

200 THE BEBIND STORV

story cycle is as follows : ' As Finn and his men were hiintu
they are astonished by the approach of a woman of u
mortal beauty and size, for her finger-rings were as thick a
three ox yoke. Asked whence she came — ' From the MaideoV
Land in the West, and I am daughter to its king ; in ihal land
are but my father and his three sons of men, hence it is
called the Land of Women j bard by is the Land of Men, and
to a son of its king I was thrice given and thrice ran away,
and I come to place myself under the safeguaid of FiniL'
Whilst the Fianna were giving her hospitality, — the pail that
held nine draughts for the hero, she emptied into the palm of
her hand— her husband came up wiih bcr and slew Her as she
sat between Finn and Goll. Pursued by the bravest and
fleetest of the Fianna, he escaped, though wounded by a
spear-cast of Caoillc's. The last the Fenian heroes beheld
of him, he entered a great galley with two rowers, that bore
down out of the west, and went off no man knew whither.

In this [ate we see, if I am not mistaken, tlie older CM
ceptiun undergoing change at the story-teller's caprice ;
archaic machinery is retained as part of a conventional stock '
of situations, but its genuine signÍficaDcc is obscured. A
curious feature is the giant stature attributed to the dwellers in
the Western Marvel Land. This is etjtially contrary lo the
spirit of the older romance, which never pictures the Tualha Dc
Danann as differing outwardly from mortals, or to the modem
folk-belief, which, so far from exaggerating the size of tlie fairy
inhabilantsofthe hollow hilts, dwarfs them almost to invisibility.
1 do not think the trait lias any traditional signilicance ; just
>3 the story-tellers who elaborated our present vcrsiofu of
these talcs dwelt complacently upon the difference in toe
between Patrick and the earlier race of Fcniait heroei, M
' ZiiuTncT, 36S i Silv» GaJelIca, 3j8.

TEIGUE, SON OF CIAN 201

ihey dwarf these in comparison with the yet earlier race of
I ihe Tuatha De Danann. The idea, however, that Finn and
len were at times engaged with a race of gigantic beings
I has influenced later popular tradition and originated a cycle
I of tales, of a semi- humorous nature, found to this day in
. Scotch as well as in Irish Gaeldom.^

The section of Ossianic romance represented by the Aga//amA
na Senorach is the most artificial in character, the least popular
in tone and spirit, of any preserved to us, and, as a matter
of fact, the traditions which it represents have exercised little
influence upon the later development of the cycle as a whole.
As we have already seen, Fenian mytiiic romance retained
the conception of the Happy Otherworld in its full force,
significance, and beauty, and was able, barely a century and a
half ago, to give it a shape of new and enduring charm in
j Michael Comyn's poem of Oisin in the Land of Youth.

The Adventures of Teigue, son of Cia».

About tlie same time as the pale and fragmentary versions

i we have just been considering found a resting-place in the

I Agallamh na Senoraeh, the vision of the Happy Othcrworld,

which had appealed so vividly to the fancy of Irishmen for

so many hundred years, was created anew in the heart and

mind of the unknown poet to whom we owe the Adventures

of Tadg (Teigue), the son of Ciaii. The fascinating beauty of

the story, the many points of interest it presents to the student

L of Irish romance, entitle it to lengthened and careful ex-

L amination. The tale, edited and translated by Mr. Standish

I Hayes O'Crady in Silva Gadeiica, from the fifteenth century

' CÍ. Wiifs and Strays, vol. iv.. The Fians, anil Mr. Jacobs' More
tCcltk Kxliy Talu, p. 333. where it is suegcsted that laics of Finn's visit
I to Giuitland may have ml1ui;iict;d Swift.

2oa TEIGUE, SON OF ClAN

Book of Lismote, has for hero the grandson of AilÍU Olun,
the third-cenlury king of South Ireland, a favoiuile hero
of bardic recitation, and is as follows : ' —

A sudden incursion of Cathmann, son of Tabarn, king of
the beauteous land of Fresen, lying over against Spain, into
Teigue's province of Munster is crowned with success.
Teigue himself barely escapes with life, his wife, his brethren,
and much of his people are carried off into captivity. Guided,
however, by the indications of a prisoner taken by his men, he
resolves to follow the ravishers and free his people He
builds a strong currach of five-and -twenty thwarts, in which
are forty ox-hides of hard bark-soaked leather. He fits il with
all necessaries, so that they might keep the sea a year if need
be, and taking his bravest warriors with him he drives forth
on the vast and illimitable abyss, over the volume of the
potent and tremendous deluge. The course of the voyage
resembles that of Maelduin and other heroes of the imrama ;
islands are encountered containing sheep of unutterable eízc;
birds, the eggs of which when eaten cause feathers to sprout
all over the feeders. For six weeks they pull away, the captive
guide loses his bearings, and they are all adrift. At length
they descry land with a good coast of a pleasing aspect
Closing in, thcy find a fine green-bosomed estuary with spring
well-like sandy bottom, delicate woods with empurpled tree-
tops fringing delightful streams. And when they land thcy
forget cold, and foul weather and tempest, nor do thcy crave
for food or drink, the perfume of the fragrant crimson
branches being by way of meat and all-satisfying aliment
suflicient for them. Proceeding, thcy happen upon a «
round purple berries hang on the trees, each bigger t
man's head, and upon them feast birds beautiful a

TEIGUE, SON OF CIAN 203

and, as they feed, they warble music and minstrelsy melodious
and superlative. Still they advance, and so to a wide smooth
plain clad in flowering cloves all bedewed with honey, and on
the plain three prominent hills each crowned with a fort. At
the nearest fori they find a white-bodied lady, fairest of the
whole world's women, who thus greets them : ' I hail thy
advent, Teigue, son of Cian, thou shalt have victual and
constant supply,' She tells them the fort they behold is the
fort of Ireland's kings, from Heremon, son of Milesius, to
Conn of the Hundred Battles ; Iriis iocha, loch island, is the
L name of the land, and over it reign two sons of Bodbh. They
I proceed to the next fort, golden in colour, and they find a
queen, gracious, draped in vesture of a golden colour. ' All
hail, Teigue,' says she, ' long since 'twas foretold for thee to
come on this journey.' She is Cesair, daughter of Noah's son
Bethra, the first woman that reached Ireland before the flood,
I and here she and her companions abide in everlasting life.
B] Red loch island, she calls the land, because of a red loch that
Tis in it containing an island surrounded with a palisade of
I gold, its name being inis Patmos, in which are all saints and
I rghteous that have served God. In the dun with the golden
■ rampart dwell kings and rulers and noblemen of ordained
, both Firbolgs and Tuatha De Danann, Teigue com-
mends her knowledge and right instruction. 'Truly,' she
' I am well versed in the world's history, for this is
"precisely the earth's fourth paradise, the others being /«« DaUb
in the world's southern, and inh Esiandra in its boreal part,
and Adam's paradise. In this island, the fourth land, Adam's
peed dwell, such of them as are righteous.' They proceed
to the third hili, on the summit of which is a scat of
sal beauty, and, on the very apex, a gentle and youthful
iouplc. Smooth heads of hair have tlicy, with sheen of gold ;

ao4 TEIGUE, SON OF CI AN

equal vestments of green; round the lower parts of thciro
chains of red gold are wound, and, above them,
torques clasp their throats. Teigue asks the lady's name,
am Veniusa, daughter am I to Adam ; for four daughtere we
are in the four mysterious magic countries already declared to
ihee : Veniusa, Leiiusa, Atiusa, and Eliusa. The guilt of our
mother's transgression suffers us not to abide in one place,
yet for our virginity and our purity that we have dedicated to
God we are conveyed into these separate joyful domiciles.'
• And who is this comely stripling by thy side?' asks Teigue.
Now the youth was so, that in his hand he held a fragrant
apple having the hue of gold ; a third part of it he would eat,
and still, for all h« consumed, never a whit of it would be
diminished. This fruit it was that supported the pair of then»,
and when once they had partaken of it, nor age nor dimness
could affect them. He answers Ttigiie, saying, ' I am son to
Conn of the Hundred Battles.' 'Art thou, then, Connla?'
' I am indeed, and this young woman of the many charms it
was that hither brought me.' ' I have bestowed upon htm
true affection's love,' explains the maiden, 'and therefore
wrought to have him come to mc in this land, where our
delight, both of ns, is to continue in looking at and in per-
petual contemplation of one another, above and beyond which
wc pass not to commit impurity or fleshly sin whatever.'
'Truly,' comments Teigue, 'a beautiful and at the same time
a comical thing.' The fort stands ready for lichoof of the
nghtcous kings that shall own Irclonil after acceptance of the
faith ; Teigue shall have an appointed place in it. ' How majr
that be?' he asks, and is lold, 'Believe in the Omnipotent
Lord, and even to the uncraiosl judgment thou shall win that
mansion with God's kingdom sfícrwards-' 'lliey jiass into
the abode, the couple preceding, and hardly if ibc bcaoi

TEIGUE, SON OF CIAN

'OS

green grass's heads bow beneath iheir smooth soft white
foot soles. Under the arched doorway they pass, with
its wide valves and portal -capitals of burnished gold ; they
Step on to a shining well-hid pavement, tesselated of pure
^ white, of blue, of crimson marble. A jocund house it is
and one to be desired ; silver the floor with four closed doors
of bright gold ; gems of crystal and carbuncle are set in the
wall in such wise that with flashing of these precious stones
day and night shine alike. Beyond lies a thickly spreading
apple-tree bearing fruit and ripe blossom alike ; it shall serve
the congregation that is to be in the mansion, and it was an
apple of that tree that lured away Connla. The couple part
here from the wanderers, but such the exhilarating properties
of the bouse that Teigue and his people experience neither
melancholy nor sorrow. Soon they mark a whole array of
feminine beauty, and among them a lovely damsel of refined
form, the noblest and most divine -in spiring of the whole
world's women. She greets Teigue, and in answer to his
request to leam her name, 'I am,' says she, 'Cleena Fair-
head of the Tuatha De Danann, sweetheart of Ciaban of the
curling locks.' She too hves wholly upon the fruit of the
apple-tree. As they were talking there entered through the
window three birds : a blue one with crimson head ; a crimson
with head of green, a green one having on his head a colour
of gold. They perch on the apple-tree and warble melody
sweet and harmonised, such that the sick would sleep to it.
These birds shall go with the wanderers and make symphony
and minstrelsy for them, so that neither by sea nor land sad-
ness nor grief shall afflict them. Cleena also gives them a
fair cup of emerald hue, if water be poured into it incon-
tinently it is wine. Other gifts and counsels she imparts,
and leading them to their boat bids them farewell, asking

K>6

TEIGUE, SON OF CIAN

them how long they had been in the country, 'A sinj
day,' say they ; to which she answers, ' An entire twclvcmoi
are ye in it j during which time ye have had neither meat n
drink, nor, how long soever ye should be here, would col
thirst or hunger assail you.' They sail off and the birds att;
up their chorus for them, whereat, for all they were grid
and sad at renouncing that fruitful country, they becoi
merry and of good courage. But when they look astern tl
cannot see the land whence they came, for incontineall]
obscuring magic veil was drawn over it.

The story then tells how Teigue and his men saccecd I
their quest, rescue the captives and slay the ravishers, butl
is of comparatively little interest

It is needless to dwell upon what I trust will be appa
even from this brief summary, the rare and exquisite c
or this narrative in which the haunting suggestivenesa <
dream is rendered in colours and outlines as delicately c
as limpidly precise as those of a painting by Memling, i
that touch of natural magic to which we seek in vain I
parallels outside Ccltdom in the literature of the Middle A
We may note that the poet was well read in the i
literature of Ireland ; there is indeed a soup^on
that, as in the only class of narrative to which 1 can compj
it — the Italian romance of the Renaissance and its derivative!
is an added charm ; a certain aristocratic preciousness b
thought and expression, as in that anticipation of the Blei
Damosel theme which brings a smile to the lips of 1
strengthens the illusion that the work had its origin in »
southern lale medifcval court where refmEmeni had
evaporated in depravity and where culture was still (i^ristij
Yet, so far as we can Judge, it is purely Irish in conception a
in execution. The author knew hi» Jnsh rhssics a

MACCONGLINNE 207

said, and ihe latest among them. He cites the Gidna story
from the Agallamk version, which cannot be much older than
his time. Most interesting for us is the way in which, whilst
retaining detail and circumstance of the older legend, he has
managed to bathe the whole in a Christian atmosphere, and
invest each incident with a symbolical significance. The

» design I have noted in the writers of the Agaiiamh, to ran
the ancient story mass into new and orthodox moulds, is here
fully carried out, but with an artistic sense of fitness, with a
sympathy for the nature of the material, that place the work
on a far higher level than anjthing found in the Agaiiamh.

By way of strong contrast we may glance for a moment at a
work which, dating back in plan and partial execution to the
early twelfth century, was remodelled and enlarged during
the thirteenth century, and which, in its own style is a
masterpiece of equal merit and interest with the Adventures
ofTeigue: I allude to the Vision of MacConglinne.' Too
little justice has been done to this brilliant bit of buffoonery,

»lhe truest exponent of one side of the Rabelaisian spirit
before Rabelais I am acquainted with. I mention it here
because I believe it to be largely a parody upon the
Voyages to the Otherworld. It tells how, to cure Cathal, king
of Munstci, of an inordinately voracious appetite caused by
B demon that had taken up its abode in his inside, Anier
HacConglinne relates a vision of being transported to a
marvellous land of Cockayne, of gorging guzzledom, of bursting
fatness and clotted richness. The idea and many details of
the vision were, 1 believe, suggested to the writer by stories

* Edileil, for Ihe first lime, in liish in both the enfant forms, and
tmuUted into English by Piofessor Kudo Meyer, with occotnpaDying
Introduction upon the origin and Uteraty nnalc^et of the stor; bj
ftofewoi W, Wollnet. D. Wuti, 1892.

MACCONGLINNE

of the type we have heen considering, and his parody yield
ftesh and valuable witness to the popularity of this form Q

narrative.

' 1 hnvi not Ihoughl it necessary lo follow Ihc titeiaxy ncorA later
the fourteenth- fifteenth century, save in ihe case of Michael C
poem. There exist a number of prose ii]ei belonging to the Fcntoa 4
Ossianic cycle, which wear the appearance of being tree variaiioiu opoa
older themes, mule by men who, although in touch with popufair traditioDi
were not bound by it. The discrimination of older and founger ctcmenti
in these stories, dating in their preseoi form fiom Che siitecnlh, i
teenth, and eighteenth centuries, is a task hardly essayed as jrcL I b
thought it best at thb stage to leave this literature ont of aoconnt, joAfl
I have maile no nse of living folk-tnditioii.

CHAPTER Vll

The Echtra Nemi (Nera's Expedition into the Ollierworld)— The Tain M
Jftgamna (Ihe Raid of Regamiu's Kine) — Angus of llie Bnigh and the
conquesl of the Sid — The diinishncias of Mag m-Breg— The dinii-
lAtHtkai of Sinann— The diiniihtitckai of Boann— The dimuAtnciai of
Loch Gflnnao— The dimnsAenc/ias of Sliai fuaii—Tbe dinHiieiuias of

Findlath Cera.

Nera in the Otmerworld.
A FEW tales which lie outside the strict limit of the Voyage
to the Otherworld type yet deserve notice as affording
glimpses of the marvel land, or of its inhabitants. Thus
the Effttra Nerai, or Nera's Expedition into the Otherworld,
one of the rttnsdla or introductory stories to the Táitt bb
Cuailgne {i.e. a tale oi probably the ninth or tenth century so
far as its present form is concerned) tell what befel Nera in
Faery. 1 He got there in this way. One Halloween Ailill and
Medh (the famous king and queen of Connaught who are the
Standing opponents of and foils to the Ulster court in the
Ultonian cycle), having hanged two men, promised a prize
to whoever should put a withe round the foot of cither captive
on the gallows. Nera alone dares the venture which the others
decline, 'for demon women appear on that night always.' He
reaches the gallows and essays to put a withe round the foot

' Kililcd and iranslaled by Profewor Kano Meyer, K. C. i. 114.

íio NERAS ADVENTURES

of one of the captives ^iid thrice he fa.ils, whereupon 1
hanged man giid^ at him and tells he must do the work p
pctiy even if he keep at Íl till the moirow. The task t
accomplished, the hanged man declares his thirst, and Sti
ofTeiing hitn a drink, starts olT, carrying him on his shoultJei
They come after a while into the sidof Cniachan, and Nera sl
there and is offered a wife by the king of the siJ. She beta
her people, who were planning to attack Ailill's court i
Halloween, Tor the fairy mounds of Erin are always o
aliout Halloween,' and sends Nera to warn the king,
will it be believed,' says he, ' thai I have been in the i
' Take fruits of summer with thee,' she ansi
the hosts of Connaught destroy (he lid, and carry iiwa7 fi
it the three wonderful gifts of Ireland.

The Tain bo Recamka.

In another of the remsíHa to the Tain 6i Cuailgnt ^

so-called TiÍÍH do Jicgamna which is closely connected i

I One of (he wiilesl spread and mo»t genuinely Iiúh folk-taln of II
preient day ii ihn of which Croker has u vertlon enlltlcd Xed S
Excuse (Faiiy Legends nnd Tradilioni of the South of treUnil, Pul
178 tl Kf.), and of which the finest varianl is pcrhipt Dr. !
Hyde's Tuigue O'Kane and (he Corpse. I conlribuied to Mr. Jtt
Cellk Foirjr Tales ■ venÍOQ heard by me Iweniy-five yeui ago fi
the kl« D. W. Lugie, and (old by him of his ptndhlha, Andrew C
1[ relal» the experiences of a man set lo watch a dead body slang i
spit lo rout, and solemnly chained not Ui allow the meat lo bum. ~
Eocnewhal pertnrbeil in spirit he fntseu bis duly, and ii roundly ti
ta«k for bis neglect by— the corpse íl«If. The i^lm snd poti
humoui of the lituillan is essentially Irish, r.i. '
Ailrentutes, cncs Imck (o a laic as o1<l in ill i>i
cemory at (he latest, and doulitleu in its '--
Thiic could hanlly 1« ■ finer Intduicc vt lb' '
lUUon 0(1 Uadlc K>il.

ANGUS OF THE BRUGH an

Nera's Adventures,' we obtain a glimpse of the shape-shifting
self-concealing powers of the Tuatha De Danann. The
Morrigan (Fairy Queen) having carried off one of the cows
which Nera had brought with hini out of the sid, Cuchulinn, as
the guardian of the cattle of Ulster, endeavours to prevent her,
and this is one of contributory causes of the great war which
raged between Ulster and the rest of Ireland concerning the
raid of the Kine of Coolney. The hero does not at first
recognise the nature of the woman he encounters, but when,
incensed by her taunts he leaps into her car to punish her,
behold, "he saw neither horse, nor woman, neither car nor
man,' only a !)lack bird sitting on a branch.

I have cited these two tales as examples of the way in
which conceptions of the Otherworld and its inhabitants of a
markedly different nature from those that have hitherto been
laid before the reader, continued to find expression in literature.
I may add the surmise that they represent, far better than
most of the tales I have instanced, the actual popular belief
of the time concerning the fairy folk ; in some points they are
also strikingly akin to the living fairy creed of the Irish peasant.
The Conquest of the Sid.

Attention has already been drawn in commenting upon the
Tonn Clidna dinnshenchas to the Mae tnd Oc, Angus, son of
the Dagda. He figures prominently in Irish tradition as
Angus of the Bmgh, the Brugh in question being the great
mounds of New Grange, Dowth, and Knowih upon the banks
of the river Boyne, These monuments have lately been
discussed, with learning and judgment, by Mr. George Coffey,*

' rrinlcd and Iranslnted by Profedaot E. Windiscli, Itische Tcxle, ii. 3,
p. sa?.
' In Thr Tumuli and Inscribed Stones «1 New Grunge, Dowth and
nowlb, Dublin, 189a.

2ia ANGUS OF THE BRUGH

who looks upon them as funereal in chantcier, and dates thai
on purely archasological grounds, 'approKimalely aboul the li
century a.d.' Texts, at the latest of the tenth century, i
the tradition that this was the burial-place of ttie Kings of
Ireland from the days of Crimtliann Niadh-nar (a.d, 9) to those
of Loeghaire, sonof Niall (a.d. 429). Poems, due to historians
of the tenth and eleventh centuries, also describe the district sa
the burial-place of the Tuatha De Danann kings whom these
annalistic writers picture as li\-ing from about 1800 lo 1000
B.C,, and states that Crimthann made Jt the buryingploce for
himself and his descendants because he had married a wife of
the race of the Tuatha De. Thus in the ninth and tenth
centuries there was a tradition concerning the spot which may
be described a:i the historical one, though it was largely intcr-
miogled with mythical elements. Contemporaneously, an
account continued to be transcribed which is entirely mythical
and which is most fully represented by one of the rtmuHa of
the Tdin U Cuailgne entitled ' The Conquest of the Sid,* > a
text of which is to be found in the Book of Leinster. Angus-
manages to coKen his father, the Dagda, out of his home t
pdsuading him to lend it for a night and a day. When 4
Dagda wbhcd to regain possession he was met by the [
that as time is made up of nights and days he had c
perpetuity; whether he admired his son's skill in chica
or not he admitted the plea, for hcncefortli the 1
Angus' palace- A wonderful place it was, ' therein are t
trees, fruit thereon for ever, together with a never-foiling Si
of roast pig and good Uquor,' for two swinc are there li
abode, one living, the other ready roa.4ted for eating, a
full of e.Kccllcnt beer ; moreover in that aliode no one c«

' SummaiÍMd by H. d'Arlxúi dc JuUuiitillc, Cycle MyUiolai
370 li itq.

MYTHS IN THE DINNSHENCHAS zi3

This account it will be noticed agrees with that of the over-
sea Elysium in singling out deathlessness as the main attribute
of the Otherworld. It may be compared with stories of the
Nera type in the prominence given to the fact that the sid
dwellers are owners of (marvellous) domestic animals, a trait
equally marked in the peasant creed of contemporary Ireland,
and, I believe, one of great antiquity. It is noticed elsewhere
in the early literature. Thus the dinnskiHchas of Mag m-Breg •
tells of Brega, Oil's ox, and how Dil, daughter of Lug-Mannair,
went from the land of promise, or from the land of Falga, with
Tulchine, druid of Connaire Mór, ' In the same year that Dil
was bom of her mother, the cow brought forth the calf named
Falga, So the king's daughter loved the calf beyond the rest
of the cattle, and Tulchine was unable to carry her off until he
took the ox with her. The Morrigan was good to him, and
he prayed her to give him that drove.' Here we catch vague
echoes of olden behefs that domestic animals, as also other gifts
of civilisation, came from the Otherworld, from which they may
be obtained, as in this case, by praying to the Great Queen of
that land.

A point is noteworthy in this story. The land of Falga is
a synonym of the Land of Promise. Now Falga seems to
have been an old name of the Isle of Man {MS. Mat. 588.
n. 172) which is also traditionally placed under the head-
ship of Manannan, lord of the Happy Otherworld in other
stories. Il is possible that these names date back to a period
when the Goidels inhabited Britain and when Man was
par excelkiue the Western Isle, the home of the lord of the
Otherworid.

The Otherworld is not only the land from which come
domestic animals ; wisdom and poetry have their origin from
' BodteyDinn., No, a.

"^4

THE WELL OF FAERY

it. Thus the dinnshenchas of Sinann : ' ' Sinend daughtet
Lodan Lucharglan son of Ler, out of the Land of Promise, w
to ConnJa's Well which is under sea to behold it. That tBl|
well at which are the hazels of wisdom and inspirations, that &
the hazels of the science of poetry, and in the same hour tl
fruit, and their blossom and their foliage break forth, and tl
fall upon the well in the same shower, which raises upon U
water a royal surge of purple. . , , Now Sinend went to »
the inspiration, for she wanted nothing save only wisdom .
but the well left its place . . , and overwhelmed her . .
when she had come to the land on this side (of the Shs
she tasted death.'

In this remarkable legend the name given to the well i
inspiration would seem to point to some lost venion (
Connla's adventures in Faery, or, possibly, may
reason why a voyage to the Oiherworld was ascribed to t
son of Conn, the Hundred fighter. The gist of the story n
to some suggest Scandinavian influence, but the diffen
between it and Odin's winning of the mead of knowledge %
poesy are so great, that it is impossible to my mind to B
the one story a derivale of the other, the essential li
being rather clue to the fact that both arc parallel variants offl
pan- Aryan myth.

That the well of Faery might not be approached save I
certain beings and in certain staled wa>-s wc learn from knot'
áÍHHshínehas, that of Poann : ' ' Báand, wife of Nechtan s
Labraid went to the Secret Well which was in the green of li
Necbtan. Whoever went to it would not come from it witli
his two eyes bursting, unless it wa.i Nccht;in himself and tUi
three cup-bearers, FIcsc and Lam and Luam. Onc« upon a
' R. C E*. 457, Bodlty Dins., N«. xx
* B, C X*. 315. BodliT DlBa., No. 36.

THE WELL OF FAERY

ai5 '

time Boand went through pride to test the well's power, and
declared it had no secret force which could shatter her form,
and thrice she walked withershins round the well. Where-
upon three waves from the well break over her and deprive
her of a thigh, and one of her hands. Then she, fleeing
her shame, turns seaward, with the water behind her as far
as Boyne mouth. Now she was the mother of Oengus son of
the Dagda.' ^

The hazels mentioned in the Sinann story as the sources of
inspiration and knowledge arc elsewhere more akin to the
magic satisfying fruit which the dames of Faery give to Connla
and Maelduin and Teigue. Thus the dinnsktischas of Cnogba
I tells how Englic daughter of Elcmain loved Oengus Mac ind
. ' There was a meeting for games held between Ckfech and
sid in Broga, and thither the Bright folk and the Fairy Hosts
of Erin resorted every Halloween, having a moderate share of
food, to wit, a nut.'^

AtLEooRiCAi- Fragments in the Dinnshenchas.

The very texts which yield these glimpses of the Otherworld,

L the circumstances of which are presented in the most material

form, also yield m>lhs in the very latest stage of development ;

' Necbtin, in which the first syllable is eqaated bj Prof. Rhys with
if^t, would Ihus seem to be not only the earliest lord of Ihe waters, and
of the mysterious marvel land connected with the waters, but, ns ihe
f fitther of the Dagda, be corresponds to the Greek Ktonos, litther of ^us.
In Ihis lemaikabie legend we hsvc, if I mistalce not, [he most archaic Irish
don, and one perhaps as archaic is found in the records of any Aryan
people, of how the god world become man's world, or, lo express it in
terms of the Hebrew myth, how evil and knowledge and death came into
Ihi world.

' Bodley Dinr

Í0. 43-

2l6

CATHAIR MOR'S VISION

an example is furnished by the dimsAefu/ioJ of Loch Gar
'Cathair Mor had a vision in which he saw a hundrcdcd h
lei's daughter, with a beautiful form, and every colour in 1
raiment, and she was pregnant Eight hundred years she t^
thus until she brought forth a manchild, and on the áaJM
was born he was stronger than his mother. They bt^is]
light, and his mother found no place to avoid him save
going through the midst of the son. A lovely hill was c
them both; higher than every hill, with hosts thereon.
beginning tree like gold stood upon the hill ; because a
height it could reach the clouds. In its leaves i
melody ; and its fruits, when the wind touched it, specked I
ground. The choicest of fruit was each of them.
Cathair awoke and summoned his wizard. " I will rede tl
said he : " the damsel is the river Slaney ; these are the c
in her raiment, artists of every kind without sameness,
is the hundredcd hospitaller who was her father, the I
through the which come a hundred of every kind. This ti
son who was in her womb for eight hundred years, the t
which will be bom of the stream of the Slaney, and in i
time it will come forth. Stronger the son than the r
the day that the lake will be bom it will drown the whole i)
Many hosts there, every one a-drinking from the river aod |
lake. This is the great hill above their heads, ihy power o
alL Tills is the tree with the colour of gold and wiih its &
thou over Ireland in its sovranty. This is the muuc that j
on the tops of the tR-cs, thy eloquence in guarding and o
ing the judgments «f the G.tcls. TW* is the wind that i
tumble the fruit, thy liberality in diipensing )ewelc |
And now thou hast partaken of the tede of €

' R.C. >

^
^

ALLEGORICAL EXAMPLES

Here we see the accessories and scenery of the Happy
Otherworld, themselves mythic in their ultimate essence,
deliberately wrested to the purposes of a new symbolism, so
that a portion of the old nature myth masquerades as an
allegory of human conditions. A stiil prettier example is
furnished by UisdinnsAencAas o(S\mh Fuait (Fuat's Mountain).'
We saw {supra, page 191) the name 'isle of tnith' given to
the oversea Elysium. Some such designation would seem
to have originated the following story ; ' When Fuai, son of
Bile, son of Brig, son of Breogann, was coming to Ireland he
visited an island on the sea, namely Inis Magdena, or Moag-
deda, that is M5r-bc-diada, "Great-young-divine." Whoever
set his sole upon it would tell no he so long as he was therein.
So Fuat brought out of it a sod whereon he sat while judging
and while deciding questions. Now when he would utter
falsehood its under part would turn upwards, and its grass down
to the gravel. But when he told truth its grass would turn
Upwards. And that sod is still on the mountain, and 'tis on it
lay the single grain which fell from Patrick's gelding. So
thenceforward, because of preserving the truth it is the adora-
tion of elders."

This truth-revealing sod recalls the goblet of truth met
with in the story of Cormac's Adventures at the Court of
Manannan and the magic pig that would only boil to the
accompaniment of a true tale. In both cases a secondary
symbolism seems to engraft itself on the older myth. How
tenaciously the vision of the great-young godlaiid haunted Irish I
iniKgtnation is manifest in the connection established between I
\ it and the national saint, to which another dinnshenehas, that j
of Findlocb Cera (Cera White-lake) also bears witness :"

' R. C xvi. 51, Edinbot^h Dinn., Nn. 64.

• R. C. XT. 469, Bdinlmreii P"" , N- f'?

2i8 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY

'A bird-flock of ihe Land of Promise came
Patrick when he was on Cniachan Argle ; and with theit wings
they smote the lake so thai it became as white as new milk.
And thus they ever used to say " O, help of Gaels, come, comci
and come hither," thai was the invitation they had for Patrick.
So he came to the lake and blessed it'

Here, if the machinery be borrowed from an earlier noi
Christian world, a point I by no means wish to prejudge |
this stage of the investigation, the sentiment i
Christian. For us modems indeed, in especial for the L
of the Gaelic genius as it manifests itself in history, the f
and bL-.iuty of this exquisite legend He in the meeting |
attempted reconciliation of the two opposed ideals, ttie ap|
of which to the Gaelic heart and fancy has been eqia
potent tliroughout so many centuries. The note of scorn ■
aversion is not lacking in Irish mythic literature * towards i
milder, bloodless charms of the new faith, though the g
upon which this aversion is based appeal more forcibly Í
U3 than is the case with tlic protest of classic or Scandinavi
Paganism ; but In the Irish mind alone have the two «
sought to kiss each other, nowhere else has the Christian n
heard the wailing cry of the birds of Faery as they await (
advent of the apostle.

> E^. in the ballad Ouianic Iherktare, fonnd in a worn-down coniUl

in the Boole of th« Dean ut Liamoic, n Scotch Gaelic Mx. of ihc e

the lifmnlh century, I hsm. Wufi and Stiaj's, vol. i».. norr, ilrawn
attenliun to mnukahle ]iiri]leU between Ihe ultcronca plBC«iI in the
mouth of Oiiio anil ihoM atsi(;iieil lo Ihe Wcltb wurlot poet Llywuih
Hen. I believe ihii I wai the fini, ind am itiU the cml; dudeni, to
iniUt upon the tlifloctire between the prose and ballail Ibfnu of iheO
le(;enil, the one ChtiMlan, Ihc othet Pagan In ipiriL

CHAPTER VIII

TRE IRISH VISION OF THE CHRISTIAN HEAVEN.

I The Fis Adsx^nain (Adnmnán's Vision)
Tidings of Doomsday— The fourfold d.
woild— Professor Zimmer's eiplanalion of the lerm fir taimgiri.

Adaunan's Vision.
Before passing in review the many fonns of the conceptions
of the Happy Otherworitl noted in the preceding pages,
attempting some cbssification, and endeavouring to frame
some scheme of hislorical development which may enable us
better to understand them, we must glance at texts professedly
Christian in origin and character. The Irish vision of the
Christian heaven cannot but throw light upon the Irish pre-
sentment of the Happy Otherworld. My first quotation wilt
be from the so-called I-'ts Adamnáin, a vision of Heaven and
Hell ascribed to the celebrated abbot of lona who died
in 703.^ The ascription is certainly erroneous; historical
evidence shows that the text cannot be older than the laic
eighth century, and it may possibly be as late as the early
eleventh century, the period to which the existing redaction
is assigned, on linguistic grounds, by the editor. But, as I
1 Eilited and translated by Mr. Whitley SloVes, Calculla, 1866, Of
the fifty copies that were printed of the precious tract, I possess perhaps
the most precious, a gift from the editor to his paiutct-pocl fiiend, Dante
Gsbriel Rosselti.

»o ADAMNAN'S VISION

must again point out, this evidence is only valid in i

as the age of the extant redaction is concerned, and docs ooC
allow us to deny that the text may have been compiled st a
much earlier dale. Professor Zimmer Tcgaids it as lielongii^
to the ninth century. I quote the more salient passages ;

' Now this is the firel land whereto they came, the Ljuid of
the Saints. A land fruitful, shining is that land. A.tsemhlics
divers, wonderful, there, with cloaks of white linen about thetn,
with hoods pure white over their heads. The Saints of the
East of the world in their assembly apart to the East of the
Land of the Saints. The Sa'mis of the West of the Worfd
likewise in the West of the same Land. Furthcmaore, the
Saints of the North of the World, and of the South of it, in
their two vast assemblies South and North. Ever)' one then,
who is in the Land of the Saints, is nigh unto the hearing of
the melodies and to the contemplation of the Vessel whcrdn
are nine grades of Heaven according to their steps and accord-
ing to their order.

' As to the Saints, again, at one time they sing marvellous
music, praising God. At another time they arc silent at the
music of Heaven's family : for the Saints need not aught else
but to hear the music whereto they listen, and to contemplatis
the l^ht which they see, and to sate themselves with the odour
which is in the Land.

■ A wonderful Prince there is loo, South-East of them, tttce
to face with ihcm, and a glassen veil between them (and him),
and a golden portico to the South of him. Through this they
perceive tlie form and separation of Heaven's family. How-
bcii, there is neither veil nor darkness between tldven's
family and the Saints, but they are in clearness and i
Saint's presence on tlic side ovctagainst ihem continually.
* A fiery circle furthcnnore (is) round about that luul(i|

ADAMNAN'S VISION an

reinto and thereout (fareEh) eveiy one, and it hurteth

'The troops and the assemblies, then, that are in the Land
of Saints as we have said, ever are they living in that great
glory until the Great Meeting of Doom, so that on the Day of
the Judgment the Righteous Brehon may range them in the
stations and in the places wherein they shall abide beholding
God's countenance without veil, without shadow between
them (and him) through the ages of ages,

' But though great and though vast are the sheen and the
radiance that are in the Land of Saints as we have said, vaster
a thousand limes the splendour that is in a plain of Heaven's
lamtly around the Throne of the Lord himself. Thus, then, is

it throne, as a canopied chair with four columns of precious
le beneath it. Yea though there should not be rapture to
«ny one save the harmonious singing together of these four
columns, enough to him there were of glory and of delight-
fulness. Three noble Birds in the chair before the King, and
their mind on their Creator for ever : that is their ofBce. They
ise celebrate the eight hours of prayer, praising and mag-
ig the Lord, with chanting of Archangels coming thereon.'

^ laml
Hany i

^^kewi:

The City, then, wherein is that throne, thus it is, and seven
glasseii walls willi divers colours around it,

'Loftier is each wail ttun the other. The platform and

lowest base of the City is of white glass with the sun's counten-

ICc upon it, made changeful with blue and purple and green

every hue besides.

A family beautiful, very meek, very gentle, again without

It of any good thing on them, are they who dwell in that

For none reach it and none dwell in it continually save

Ijr pure saints ur |)ilgrims devoted to God. Their array,

323 ADAMNAN'S VISION

however, and thtir ranging, it is hard to know how it happc
for there is not a back of any of thum, or his side
another. But it is thus the unspeakable might of the 1
hath arranged them and kept them, face to face in their n
and in their circles equally high all round about the thi
H-ith splendour and with dehghtfulness, and their facca |
towards God.

' A chancel-rail of glass (there is) between every two c
with excellent adornment of red gold and of silver L'
with beautiful ranks of precious stone and with changeful
of divers gems, and with stalls and crowns of carbuncle on ^
rails of that chanceL Three precious stones, then,
melodious voice and with the sweetness of music b
every two chief assemblies, and their upper lialves as Í
beaux aflame. Seven thousand angels in the forms of C
lights irradiating and imdarkening the City round
Seven thousand others in its very midst flaming for ever n
Ihe royal City, The men of the world in one place, t
ihcy be Very numerous, tlie odour of the top of one 1
those lights would suffice them with food,

' Thus, then, is that City, to wit : a Kingdom witliout p
without haughtiness, without falsehood, without blaspb*
without fraud, without pretence, without reddening i
blushing, without disgrace, without deceit, without envy, i
out pride, without disease, without sickness, without i
without nakedness, without destruction, without vxtioct
without hail, without snow, without wind, without wet, v
noise, without thunder, without darkness, without coldnc
a Kingdom noble, admirable, delightful, with fmilfulnct
with light, with odour of a plenteous Earth, wherein is dd
of every goodness.'

ADAMNAN'S VISION

aij

A certain community of styk and literary method between
■ the writer of these passages aiid the previously cited de-
I scriptions of the Happy Otherworld cannot, I thinl<, fail to
strike the reader. There is the same fondness for detail, the
same richness of colour, the same achievement of effect by
accumulation rather than by selection of images. In addition
E to this there are many actual parallels between the Christian
I Bad what may, provisionally, be called the non-Christian de-
f scriptions of Elysium. Its difference from this world is in-
dicated in both cases by the absence of earthly imperfections,
partly physical, partly spiritual; here the resemblance is very
close. In the enumeration of the positive, as distinguished
I from the negative characteristics of this land, there is, as may
J be imagined, less likeness ; practically the only point of contact
l-js furnished by the insistence of both upon the charms of
' music as ooe of the main elements of Otherworld happiness.
In one respect alone is there a remarkable material parallelism ;
the fiery circle which .\damnan beholds encompassing that
land recalls at once the encircling rampart of flame through
which the companions of Maelduin behold the feasting of
the island dwellers {supra, p. 169).

Thb Tidings of Doomsday.
A text of the same dale as Adamnán's vision, likewise edited
■and translated by Mr. Whitiey Stokes, is the Tidings of Dooms-
Bday.' But it differs in many important respects from Adamnán's
fvision. It is far more of a paraphrase of Scriptural and patristic
rritings, more insistent upon the horrors of hell, less inspired
Mn its vision of the Beatific City. For this very reason certain
■]>ecuIiaritios which it presents are worthy special notice. The
■writer distinguishes four troops of the human race. These
' R. C. i». 243-

324

TIDINGS OF DOOMSDAY

arc the mali non valde, ihc bad, not greatly bad, «ho g
hell aflcr judgment ; the mali valde, the worst of the hui
race, who go to hell .it once without adjudication ; the i
non valt/e, the good who are not greatly good, who (
judgment go into reward ; the iom valde who at once |
into heaven and all golden rewards. These are : '
and the righteous, who have fulfilled the commands t
Lord and his teaching . . . the folk of gentleness and t
ness, of charity and of mercy, and of every fair deed b
the folk of virginity and penitence, and widows
God's sake. ... A place wherein is the Light that excel» t
light, . . . Life elemai without death ; clamour of joy wili
sorrow ; health without sickness ; youth without old i
peace without quarrel ; rest without adversity ; freedom with-
out labour, without need of food, raiment or sleep ; lioline»
without age, without decay ; radiant unity of angels ; delighta
of paradise ; feasting without interruption among nine ranks
of angels and of holy folks of heaven and holy assemblies of
the most noble King, and among holy spiritual hues of hcavca
and brightness of sun in a kingdom, high, noble, admiríil)le,
lovable, just, adorable, great, smooth, honeyed, free, restful,
radiant ; in plains of heaven, in delightful stations, in golden
chairs, in glassen beds, in silvern stations wherein every ono
shall be placed according to his own honour and right and
welldoing. . . , Vast, then, sue the fruitfulncss and the li^t,
the lovablcness and the stability of that City ; its rest, and
its sweetness; its security, its prcciousnejuf, its unootlincss,
its dajulingness, its purity, its lovcsomeuess, its whitenesa, its
melodiousness, it* holiness, its bright purity, its bcaoty, tts
mildness, its height, ils splendour, tls dignity, its vcncrabtcncu,
its plenteous peace, its plentcou.i unity.'

In it> in.-ii»ience upon materia] detaih this description of iJ

FOURFOLD FUTURE WORLD 125

joys of bcsaven recalls far more than does Adamnán's vision,
tfie positive side of the ideal set forth in Bran's Voyage or in
* the Wooing of Etain. Il is, however, the fourfold division of
the human race that concerns us chiefly. Professor ZÍmmer
has argued (p. 286 et seg.) that tliis is a Irait peculiar to
Irish literature, recurring also in Latin Christian texts due to
Irishmen, e,g. in Tundale's Vision. He accounts for it in the
following way : the Christian writers of Adamnán's Vision, of
the Tidings of Doomsday, and of similar texts were familiar
[with tlie Happy Otherworld of native legend ; it was evidently
Enot the paradise of the Christian scriptures, but why should it
Fnoi be the resting-place of such, as unworthy to pass at once
to heavenly beatitude, might yet look forward to entering after
the last judgment upon the joys of eternal hfe? Room was
thus found in the belief of Christian Ireland for this antitjue
Elysium, to correspond to which a provisional hell was also
imagined, and the fourfold division of the human race after
death was complete As evidence of the development thus
postulated. Professor Zimmer cites a text ' preserved by the
Book of the Dun Cow which thus describes Elijah in Paradise :
* Elijah imder the tree of life in Paradise, and a gospel in his
hand to preach to the souls there. Then come the birds
that they may be eating the tree's berries ; great berries, sooth
are those, sweeter are they than every honey, and more in-
toxicating than every wine.' Now this text was known to the
writer of the Voyage of Snegdus and Mac Riagla (as we have
aheady seen, one of the latest imratna, and a work of the
middle or late ninth century)^ who brings his travellers to the

* Fron) Ihe so-called FtHre Angus, a eallection of brief bagiologiul
kgenil» arranged Kccoidiog to thi order or Ihe ctlendm. Edited liy
Mr. Whitley Siokes.

' Supra, Qi. iv.

2a6 CHRISTIAN IRISH ACCOUNTS
isle where dwell Enoch and Elijah and the men of the c
the Gad, who abide Iherc until the Judgment ' for goodl
are, without sin, without wickedness or crime.' ' But this f
is clearly distinguished by the writer from the Christian b
to which his wanderers also attain, and which is describi
'a great lofty island, and therein all delightful and hal
Good was tlie king that abode in the island, holy and rightef
and great was his host, and noble was the dwelling of Uuu
King, for there were a hundred doors in thai house, and an
altar at every door, and a priest at every altar oGTcring Christ't
lx)dy.'

The import of this instance, if correctly interpreted, is fi»-
reaching. If the ninth century author of the Jnram Snegdms
had before him two partly parallel accounts of a paradisiaca]
land, which he carefully distinguished, whilst, at ihv saint:
time he gave Christian form to what originally was non-
Christian, the great majority of the legends we have already
considered, and which cither presuppose a similar cvoltition
ot are unaffected by it because earbcr, must be carried much
further back than mere linguistic and palicograplucal cmdeaee
would warrant. '

Action and reaction upon each other of Christian and lURh
Christian conception are likewise deduced by Profctsor
Zimmer from the use by Irish ecclesiastical writers of ttu:
seventh and eighth centuries of the term fir tairngiri ' land of
promise." This designates at once the promised land of

' ^tr, Whiiky Slokei' tramUiion. R. C. ii. rj.

' I ihould puÍDl uul (hat I by no meuu loocpl viEhoul ret e nnttfciB
Prorcuoi Zimmei't explnnaUon of the itnaUAA divteloib li b loltt
jiouilile tbKt Ibii fcftlarc u jniicly Chiiilioii in or'tpo. Bnl the jjnieral
effect of Ihc aij^mcni rtinúai Ihc nine. The poinl dcMna cmcU
KaAj frvia ibc eiiieri io ChHaiiui «chatolocy.

TIR TAIRNGIRI

Z17

flowing with milk and honey, and Ihe heavenly
1. Thus the giossaior of the Latin Irish commenUry
e Kpistles of SL Paul, preserved in the library of Wurz-
r buf^ University, who wrote in the eighth and possibly even in
I the seventh century, notes on Hebrews vi. 15, 'And so, after
he (Abraham) had patiently endured, he obtained this promise'
► (or, to quote the Vulgate, 'adeptus est repromissionem ') as
follows : iir lairngeri ve! regnum ccElorum. On Hebrews iv.
4, 'And Goil did rest on the seventh day from all his works'
the comment runs ; ' God found peace after the creation, the
people of Israel in tir taimgeri, the people of the new
covenant in regno calorum.' Again, isl Corintliians x. 4,
'they drank of that Spiritual Rock that followed them, and
I that Rock was Christ ' suggests this comment : ' Christ is the
' mystical rock from which gushed forth a great stream of
spiritual doctrine which quenched the thirst of spiritual Israel,
that is, of the saints in the desert of the world, when they
asked Cor tire tairngiri itinaml'io ' (the hnd of promise of the
living ones).

Here then the term tir iairngiri, used elsewhere in a
definitely Christian sense, whether of the earthly or the
heavenly Canaan, is conjoined with and seems an equivalent
of tir iiinamUo, the land of the living ones, the very expression
by which the summoning damsel in Echtra Condla designates
the land from which she comes. Professor Zimmer surmises
thai this identification — natural enough he considers when one
bears in mind the inevitable similarities between the two
conceptions of a happy land flowing with milk and honey —
Kfarought about in later limes the substitution of Iir tairngiri for
^me older tir innambéo as a designation of the pre-Christian
Elysium. Thus the poet Giila im chomded hua Connac,
itho probably died in 1124, and who has left a poem on

338

TIR TAIRNGIRI

the histoty of Ireland preserved in ihc Book of Lcinster, writes
concerning Connla, 'after the seafaring of Connla, the ruddy
son of Conn, to the land of promise (coHr laimgirr), Art OU
remained alone ' ; thus, too, the late ^^^telling of Cormac'i
adventures at Manannan's court, which has come down to us
in place of the pre-eleventh century original version, describes
the mystic country as tir taimgtri.

Although Professor Zimmcr's interpretation of these facts
is perhaps not quite as self-evident as he stales, still I think
that, on the whole, this evidence bears out his contention as
to the early and pre-Christian nature of the Irish Elysmm.

I should add that I have purposely rehuined from citing a
number of Irish-Chrislian texts such as the Vision of Funa,
Tundale's Vision, The Purgatory of Patrick, etc., from & dcsin:
to restrict the lines of this investigation to what is absolnlcly
necessary to elucidate the origin of the account found in Bnin.

CHAPTER IX

THE DEVELOPMENT C

The (wo ITP^- tbeir relation — The imrama lilerature in relation lo Cbristiaa
literature— ModiScalions due to the RenaisiaQce period— PoEt- Renaissance
development — Didactic and Tree romaniic tendency — Conclusioo: inade-
quacy of the hypothesis of £o[c Christian origin for stories of the Brau type.

A sUFFiciEXTLV large number of examples of the Elysium
conception have now been considered, the facts concerning it
have been instanced with sufficient fulness to enable us to
sketch, if only roughly, its development in Irish mythico-
romantic literature. Starting with texts that approve them-
selves on linguistic and historical grounds to belong substan-
tially to the eighth century at the latest, we can distinguish
two main types of the conception, the Oversea, and the Hollow
Hill type. In the former the magic land lies across the
western main, it is marked by every form of natural beauty, it
possesses every sort of natural riches, abundance of animals,
of fish, of birds, of fruit ; its inhabitants are beauteous, joyful ;
a portion of the land is dwelt in by women alone ; all earthly ills,
both physical and moral, are absent ; in especial, age brings
neither decay, nor death, nor diminution of the joy of life ; love
brings neither strife, nor satiety, nor remorse. The lord of
the land is Manannan (Bran) or Boadag (Connia) ; its in-
habitants may and do summon mortals thither, alluring them
by the magic music of the fairy branches of its trees, or by

I30

TWO TYPES OF OTHERWQRLD

the magic properties of its inexhaustibly satisfying fruit.
passes there with supernatural rapidity (Bran), the mortal 11
has once penetrated there may not return unscathed to e
(Bran ; the last trait is probably implied in Connla).

In the Hollow Hilt type (the Wooing of Etain), the won*
land is not figured as lying across the sea, but rather, ti
this is implied in the general account of the beings 1
inhabit it and is not definitely slated in the description of Í
country itself, within the st'd or fairy hills. No
insistence is laid upon the immortality of its inhi
though this too is practically implied by what the sloiy-tt
relates concerning thera, nor is the absence of strife s
out as a characteristic feature. In other respects both ^
positive and negative qualifications of this Elysm
fairly to those of the other type. Women do not, howi
play the same important part, there is no special portionfl
the land set aside for thera, it is not the dames of Faery V
come to woo mortal heroes, but a prince of the land \
strives to allure thither a mortal maiden.

Both types betray signs of Christian influence and !
been interpolated in a Christian sense ; in both, howevcTi \
machinery of the story as well as its animating spjrit i
wholly un -Christian.

The leading incidents of the Oversea type reappear in
imrama, a genre of story-telling which would vxm to I
developed between the middle of the sei-enth and the c
the ninth century. In the oldest extant Ímram, \
Maekluin, which may date l;ack to the early eighth c
a connected account of the Happy Oihcrworld is pKsup]
by the way in which fragments of the conception figure \
connectedly in it. I'he imrama derive from the Ovcrsoilf
and carry on the Christbnising process Ijcgun in Bit

belooj

^Ri Bn

DEVELOPMENT OF TYPES Í31

Connla ; the latest of the old imrama, that of Snegdus and
MacRiagIa, is entirely Christian in spirit : belonging, as this
does, to the late ninth century at the latest, it enables us to
estimate the time necessary for the completion of this tians-
fonning process. By divorcing the incidents of the Oversea
type of the Happy Othenvorld from their original surroundings,
the imrama altered their nature and shunted them o£f the
main line of Irish romance, but thereby won for them entrance
into general European literature, and, with the Navigatio S.
Breniani, a permanent place in Christian legend.

Purely Christian texts of the same period (seventh to
ninth centuries) picture the Christian heaven in a style and in
terms thai strikingly recall those applied to the magic wonder-
land ; ihe same texts have one marked peculiarity in their
eschatology (the fourfold division of the hutnan race after
death), which may possibly be due lo the influence of a pre-
Christian Elysium.

The Oversea type is continued in the imrama literature and
changes its character; saving the imrama, its influence upon
Irish romance between the eighth and the twelfth century is
not marked, It is otherwise with the other, the fairy hill
type. The sid and the siii dwellers are prominent elements
in a whole group of heroic sagas, the redaction of which,
in the form under which ihey have come down to us,
belongs to the earlier portion of this period of four

iituries. Important as are the differences between the
intmcnt of the Happy Otherworld in Etain's Wooing and

Bran's Voyage, they are less marked than if we compare

with other tales belonging to the same type as Etain's

Wooing. The latter does not insist upon immortality or

absence from strife as characteristics of the Otherworld, but

evidence cannot be positively claimed against the presence

332

DEVELOPMENT OF TYPES

of these elements of the Elysium ideal ; tales like Cut
Sick Bed, on the contrary, treat death and warfan: as o
incidents of Othcrworld life, and apparently ignore! I
supernatural lapse of time and the látal result of iJie i
visitor's return to earth. At the same time then \
points of contact with the Oversea type such as tbc i
nature of the dames of Faery ; and moreover there is a d
connection of the magic land with water. In the i
Locgaire, son of Crimthann, which probably assumed its 1
shape considerably later than did Cuchulinn's Sick I
warlike note in the presentment of the Otbciworld I
tensified, but so is also the connection with water, an a
instead of across- wave /Ma/e appearing for the finK |
whilst the supernatural lapse of time and the i
scathless return to eanh are Ixith prominent, the 1
incident in the form it was destined to retain in later lite
Whilst the OtherHorld conception was thus supplying t
for narratives of an heroic or legendary character, it vru |
being used in stones of a ruder, more popular cast, í ~~
Ncra's Adventures ; here we note, seemingly, the rude ft
germs of incidents which elsewhere have assumed a i
dignified or romantic aspect. Whether this tale does or d
not represent a more primitive stage of the tid belief I
that represented in Etain's Wooing and other heroic s;
certainly ajiproximates far more closely to the fairy cr<»il9
the modem Irish peasant.

The middle and bttcr part of this period of four cento
during which all lhe!<e texts were being transcribed froiB I
into MS. until they reached the great vellums which I
Krved them to us, witnessed the sysleniatisation of i
d of the Iriih concerning the pie-Christian history of |
The t>eings whom the sagas and L-gends piciund^
dweUing in the iid or in the oversea Elysium were made to do

DEVELOPMENT OF TYPES

=33

duty as Kings of a pre-Christian race, the Tualha De Danann,
who had held sway in Ireland centuries before Christ, This
annalisric scheme, due as it was to the leading scholars of the
time, could not fail to influence heroic romance j the ollamh
(professional historian and story-teller) was bound to note
how beings who, according to traditions handed down to him,
were immortal and giited with superhuman qualities had a
definite date and place in the kingly succession assigned to
them by the men whom he reverenced as the most learned
teachers of the day. In how far the existence, side by side,
of these two conflicting beliefs — in the Tuatha De Danann as
men who had lived and reigned and passed away, in the same
beings as immortal and superhuman and powerful heroes in
an enchanted land — may account for certain puzzling features
in extant Irish romance is hard to say. M. d'Arbois de
Jubainville has surmised that an earlier generation of these
Folk of the Goddess, the original protagonists indeed of the Irish
God-saga, lias been supplanted in later romance by personages
who figure slightly, if at all, in the earliest texts in order to avoid
clashing with the definite statements of the annalists.

Whilst Irish tradition was being run into an historic mould,
odds and ends of it were at the same time being garnered up
in the precious collection of the Diiinshtnchas. In this we
find many traces of the Happy Olherworld, and examples of
both types we have distinguished. We meet w-ith Manannan
and with Chdna, beings connected with the sea, and amorous
as such beings always are ; we meet with Angus, lord of the
fdry mound, within which is an enchanted palace ; we meet
with the magic food and drink, the f^ry sweetness of the
music that we have found elsewhere. But we also find a
□umber of tales, which, far more than aught else preserved in
literature, bear the impress of myth as distinguished from
troic or romantic l^end. And side by side with these we find

LATER DEVELOPMENT

lEOf what are seemingly old myths in teims of a
all^ory, as well as attempts at reconciliation of the Chi
and pr&Chrislian ideals, both dear to the story-teller.

The period from 1050 to r 150 marks the close of the g
inteliectual movement which co-ordinated Irish knowletj
determined the forma of literary expression, established 1
and models for the literary faculty, in romance compc
after 1150a difference of lone is at once recognisable, a i
: for proportion and order, a didactic and all^orij
vein. These characteristics will, I think, have been notii
by the readers of Cormac's Adventures in the
Promise, of the Agaliamh na Senoraih, of Teigiie, son of C
It is remarkable on the whole what little change there H\
the presentment of the Happy Otherworld. Cormac's {
ventures, for instance, in spite of its moralising, allegoi
tendency, retains the essentials of the older tale, whilst I
leading incidents and main outline of the Bran-Connla U
are to l)e found wellnigh unaltered in the eighteenth c
poem on Oisin's stay in Tir na n-Og. Both types of 1
OthcTWortd conception arc represented in post-twelfth -ecu

, and if more prominence has been given Í
preceding pages to versions of the Oversea type,
due to the fact that these arc more beautiful and intrinsia
interesting. The Ossianic cycle is, however, rich i
concerning liie relationit of Fianna and Tuatba De I
the latter of whom lead substantially the same life :
pictured in prc-lwcliih-cenlury tents.

Just as in tlie seventh to eighth centaries the 1
literaluru represents a freer, more racuantic handling of
traditional material, a similar tendency manifests itself to
twclftli to thirteenth century romances hkc the Agaljamk ar_
Tdguc, son of Cioa Both arc voilis of consdoos lite
art, both, using the word in no invidious sense, ue >

CHRISTIAN AND PAGAN FORMS 235

both, that is to say, take up nn older literary convention and
readapt it for their purpose. In both, too, the disposition is
manifest to reconcile with the orthodox Christian ideal some-
thing which was felt to be remote from, if not opposed to
Christianity in its essence. This Christianising process is far
more subtle and insinuating than that we have noted in the
pre-twelfth century literature, but in the one case, as in the
other, in proportion as it is more thorough, as the non-
Christian element is more completely transformed or eliminated,
L in like proportion does the work forfeit its popular character,
I cease to be a formative factor in the development of the
^ national romance. The stage of Fenian romance, represented
by the Agallamh na Senoraeh, in which Caoihe, last of the old
hero race, is a dutiful follower of Patrick, has passed away
from tlie popular consciousness, whilst this still reLiins the vivid
outline of the defiant p^an, OÍsin, reviling the Christian
saint, and lamenting the pride and glory of his youth. In
vain did some ninth or tenth century poet picture the bird-

^ flock of the Land of Promise churning the waters milk-white
in their passionate appeal to the national saint ; the people of
Ireland are mindful to this very day of songs and warblings
older than the cleric's bell, and wholly unaffected by its tones.
The foregoing sketch, imperfect as it is, disposes, I think,
of the hypothesis that the imaginings and fancies set forth in
Bran, Connla, and later tales derive wholly from Christian
t writings. Not only would such an hypwthesis altogether fail
Jto account for the existence and mutual rebtions of two
|distinct types of the Olherworld conception, but the effort,
laintained througii so many centuries, to bring these ancient
[legends within the pale of the Church is conclusive witness to
Bfte fact that by origin and in essence they are not Christian.
iBut the poasibility of more far-reaching Christian influence
I is patent in the texts tbccnsdves i& by m} means set

«36

AVALON

aside. Nor has the question of possible classic (as i
tinguishcd from ChrLstian) Influence been elucidated or {
raised. We must still note that the very oldest Irish 1<^
however non-Christian in essence, do contain Christian f
ments, and that early Irish descriptions of Christian and f
Christian paradises aie often strikingly alike. Í-urther t
must be sought for in Christian literature of the period (
ceding the evangelisation of Ireland in so far as it sets f
visions of heavenly bliss.

I may naturally be expected before quitting the Celtic |
of the question to say a word respecting Tennyson's
known description of Avalon,

The earliest analogue in the Arthurian romance is 1

description in Chretien's Erei (the poem corresponding to t

Geraint of the Mabinogion and to the Enid of the IdyllaH

the 'isle de Voirre,' the realm of King Maheloas :

' En cele isle n'ot Ten tonoirre

Ne n'i chiet foudre nc tempesie,

Ne boz ne serpanz n'i aresle ;

N'i fei trop cham nc n'Ívem&'

The 'isle dc Voirre' is of course (Glastonbury, the t

vitra of the twelfth century fjCa 5. Gi/d-r, where reignod I

regulus Melvas.

Both Chretien's mention and tliat of tlie unknown aul
of the Vita S. Gilda are posterior to GeolTrey's Vila Mo'A
Now this writer in his description of Glastonbury as /u
Pomorum, clearly perceived the resemblance between ]
wonderlatid and the classic Hesperidcs as he cites th« fa
and then proceeds thus :

'Insula romorum qua; Fonunau vocaiur,
Ex r« Domcn habet, quia p«r le staguU proftit i
Nod opus est illi sulcantibos arva colonls \
Omnis abcit cultut ai« qucm cultuia mi&ittrM :

AVALON

»37

UltTo fcecundas segetes producii et uvas,
Nataque poma suis prxtonso germine silvis ;
Omnia gignit humus vice gramínis ultro redundaDs.'
Geoffrey himself in his history barely mentions Avalon
and thai is all, but the unknown writer (cited by Ussher as

IPseudo-Giidas), in all probability a thirteenth-century Breton
(Ward, Cat. i. »74), who versified Geoffrey, amplifies this
mention in the following remarkable lines : —
' Cingilur Oceano memorabilis insula, oullis
Desolata bonis ; noa íur, nee prsedo, nee hoslis
Insidiatur ibi ; nee vis, nee bruma, nee xsUia
Immoderata furit ; pax et concordla, pubes
I Ver manel sternum, nee flos nee lilia desunt,

Nee rosa;, nee violie ; flores et poma sub una
I Fronde gerit pomus ; habitant sine labe cruoris

I Semper ibi juvenes eum virgine, nulla scneetus

' Nullaquc vis morbi, nullus dolor, omnia plena

La:titiie ; nihil hie proprium, communia qu^eque.'
(San Marte's Gotifriedvon Monmouth, 425.)
which read in part as if taken from a description of Man-
annan's land. Note, too, that this land is inhabited by a
' regia virgo ' who can heal Arthur of his wounds, and compare
Liban's promise to Cuchulinn to cure him of his hurt if he
will come and live with Fann.

If we had not the Irish analogues it might be asserted that
these Avalon passages are un-Celtic, and a simple literary
development of Geoffrey's exercise upon the Hespcrides
theme. But as we have the Irish analogues ic ts, I maintain,
far simpler to look upon the Brythonic wonder isle as akin to
the Gaelic one, leaving it uncertain for the present whether
this kinship implies prehistoric mythic community between
Gaels and Bryibons, or dependence, in historic times, of
^Brythonic upon Gaelic romance,'

' Cf. M. F. Lot on Glastonbary and Avalon, Romanm, July 189;,

CHAPTER X

KON-IRISU CHRISTIAN AND JEWISH ANALOGUBS OF TUa J
HAPPY OTHER WORLD

The rbceaii episode in Madduin^TbE Anglo-Saxon Phmnii, died i
diiciuacd — The ChrUlUn apocalypse, ilic Rcvclalion of St. Job^fl
RevelBlion of Pela-, the yiiio PawH. the Vision of Satunu, BaduM g[
Josipbat— The leeond SibrlUne— The lost Ten Tiilies— The E
Enoch— Kelnllon ot Cbriitian to cUsuc csduiiolag>.

A CLEW to the direction in which we may proStabiy
is Turnished by the very hterature we have been cunúdi
The voyage of Maelduin contains the following indi
The wanderers reach an island inhabited by ihe
man of the communily of Brenainn of Birr. One da]
great bird like a cloud arrives, in its t^laws a hmnch
great tree bigger than an oak. After a while two
cE^cs come and sk-ck the great bird with their bills, pii
off the lice that infest it, ant! plucking out its old (c
Then they strip the berries which grew on Uie
which the great bird had brought, and cast them into
lake so that its foam becomes red. Into the lake goes
great bird and washes itself therein, after which the
eagles assist it again lo ihuruughly cleanse itself, and on
third tlay it flics away, and swifter and stronger
Sight than heretofore, so that it was evident to bU bchi
that ibi» was its renewal from old age into youth.

PHCENIX

239

~ liter

to the word of the prophet, ' Thy youth shall be renewed
like an eagle's.' '

obvious to any reader fairly acquainted with
lediseval and pre-raediseval legend that we have here a
[fused reminiscence of the Phcenix story. Now one of the
most remarkable monuments of Anglo-Saxon Christian
literature is the fine poetic version of this legend preserved
in the Exeter Book, attributed by some to Cynewulf, the
great Northumbrian poet of the late eighth century, and
certainly Cynewulfian in character. I quote from Mr.
Gollancz's version in his edition of the Exeter Book, and I
append the Latin original, of which the Anglo-Saxon Is a
paraphrase. The poem opens with a description of the
paradisiacal land in which the Phcenix dwells; this rmis to
84 lines, corresponding to 30 of the Latin. I give overleaf
, both in full I—

PHCENIX

1 I have beard tell that there ts far hence,
in eastern parts, a land most noble,
famed 'mong folic Thai tract of earth is not

4 accessible to many o'er mid'earth,
to many chieftains ; but it is far removed,
through might of the Creator, from evil-doers.
Beauteous is all the plain, blissful with delights,

B with all the fairest fragrances of earth ;
that island is incomparable ; noble the Maker,
lofty and in power abounding who founded that land.
There the door of Heaven's realm is ofitimes opened

2 in sight of the happy, and the joy of its harmoaies ii

revealed.
That is a winsome pl-^io ; green wolds are there,
spacious beneath the skies ; nor rain, nor SOOw,
nor breath of frost, nor fire's blast,
6 nor fall of hail, nor descent of rime,
nor sun's heat, nor endless cold,
nor warm weather, nor winter shower
may there work any harm, but the plain abidetfa,

3 happy and healthful. The noble land
is all beflowered with blossoms ; nor hills nor mout
there stand steep, nor stony cliffs
tower there on high, as here with us -

4 nor dells nor dales, nor mountain caves,
nor mounds nor ridges, nor au^hl unsmooth,
abide there, but that noble plain
(tourisheth 'neaih the clouds, blossoming with delight. |

5 This glorious land, this region, is higher

by twelve fathom measures (as sages, wise wiih stticty,
reveal to us through wisdom in their writings]
Ihan any of the hills that brightly here, in out midit,
1 tower high, beneath the stars of heaven.
Serene is all that glorious plain ; sunny groves i ~ ~

there,
and winsome woody holts ; fruits fall not tbere,
nor bright blossoms, but the trees abide

5 for ever green, as God commanded them,
tn winter and in summer the forest is alike
behung with fruits ; ne'er will the leaves
faidc there beneath the sky, nor will flame injure ih«

3 never through the ages until a final change
bcfiill the «orld. Lo, when once the water's msh.

PHOENIX

I Est locus in primo felix Oriente remotus,
Qua patet aetemi maxima porta poli,
Nee tamen aestivos hiemisve propinquus adortus,
Sed qua Sol verao fundit ab axe diem.

241

5 Illic planities tractus difiundit apertos.
Nee tumulus crescit, nee eava vallis hiat ;

Sed nostros montes, quorum juga celsa putantur,
Per sex bis ulnas eminet ille loeus.

Hie solis nemus est, et consitus arbore multá
10 Lueus, perpetuae frondis honore virens.
Cum Phsethontaeis flagrasset ab ignibus axis,
Ille loeus flammis inviolatus erat ;

£t eum diluvium mersisset fluetibus orbem,

PHCENIX

the ocean's flood, o'erspread all middle-eanh,

yea, all the worlds career, yet tbai noble plain
44 secure 'tjainst every chance, stood e'en ihen protected

'gainst the billowy course of those rough waves,

happy, inviolate, through the grace of God.

It «ball abide thus blooming, until the coming of fin
48 and the judgment of the Lord, when the homes of death, ,

men's dark chambers, shall be opened.

In that land there is not hateful enmity,

nor wail, nor vengeance, nor any sign of woe,
53 nor old age, nor misery, nor narrow death,

nor loss of life, nor harm's approach,

nor sin, nor strife, nor sorry exile,

nor poverty's toil, nor lack of wealth,
56 nor care, nor sleep, nor grievous sickness,

nor winter's darts, nor tempests' tossing

rough 'neath heaven, nor doth hard frost,

with cold chill icicles, crush any creature there.
60 Nor hail nor rime descendeih thence to earth,

nor windy cloud ; nor fallelh water there

driven by the wind, but limpid streams,

wondrous rare, spring freely forth :
64 with fair buliblings, from the forests' midst,

winsome waters irrigate the soil ;

each month from the turf of the mould

sea-cold they burst, and traverse all the grove
68 at times full mightily. Tis the Lord's behest,

that twelve times o'er that glorious land

the joyous water-floods should sport.

The groves are all behung with blossonts,
71 with beauteous growths ; the holt's adornments,

holy 'neath heaven, fade never there,

nor do fallow blossoms, the beauty of the forest trees,

fnU thi'n to earth ; but there, in wondrous wii«, *"

76 ihe boughs upon the trees are ever laden,

the fniit it aye renewed, through all eternity.

On ihnt grassy nlain there siandeib green,

decked gloriously, through power of the Holy One,
So (he fairest of all groves. Tne wood knowetfa no b

in all its beauty ; holy fragrance resleth there

ihraogbout that land : ne er shall it be chanKcd,

to all eternity, until He who first created it

dull cad Hisuidenl work of Conner days.

PHCENIX
Deucalioaeas exuperavit aquas.

i; Mod buc exangues morbi, noo 3

Nee mors cnidelis, nee metus aspcr adit ;
Nee scelus infandum, Dec opum vesana cupido,
Aut Metus, aut ardens c^dis amore furor 1
Luctus acerbua abest, et egesias obsita pannis.

20 Et curx insommes, ct violenta fames.

Non ibi tempestas, nee vis furit horritla venti ;
Nee gelido tcrram rare ptuina tegit ;
Nulla super campos tendit sua vellera nubea ;
Nee cadit ex alio lurbidus humor aqusr?.

25 Sed foDs in medio est, quern vivum nomine dicunL
Perspicuus, lenis, duleibus ubei aquis.
Qui semel erumpens per singula tempora mensúm
Ouodecíes undis tnigat omne nemus,
Hic genus arboreum proeero stirpite surgens

30 Non lapsura solo miiia poma gerit.

344 THE PHCENIX LEGEND

I have quoted this passage in full, for Us intrinsic beauty
and for the interest it presents in connection with the present
investigation. The Latin poem contains 170 lines in all;
these conespond to 386 of the Anglo-Saxon version, but this
adds 30D hnes in which the story of the Phcenix is elabotatelf
allegorised in a Christian sense. The Latin is ascribed to
Lactantius, an ascription as old as Gregory of Tours, who
alludes to it in a work written before 583 a.d. ; the sixth
century Isidore also knew it, and looks upon verses 35-18 U
descriptive of Paradise. Modern authority favours the tradi-
tional authorship,* and Ebert detects a Christian ring in
certain passages. Be this as it may, the lone of the Latin u
manifestly less Christian than Ihat of the Anglo-Saxon, whilst,
in the former, machinery and accessories are Pagan in the
main. When it is remembered that the Phoenix story first
appears in Herodotus, that, to cite no other testimonies, it
is found fully developed in Ovid (Met. xv.), and is retold after
Lactantius without any admixture of Christianity by Ctaudian,
it is plain that the Christian is the intrusive clement. But
when we compare Lactantius' Phíenix with any oiliet knotni
form of the story, we find that its distinguishing feature IS
that description of the happy eastern land, where the Phccnix
dwells in the grove of the sun, which so closely recalls the
western wonder-realm of which Manannan is lord, or the tH
which acknowledges the sway of Midir. Is this then a specific
Christian contribution to the Phoenix legend ? if so, docs not
the knowledge of that legend in Ireland give some colour to
the surmise that this early fourth century l.;ttin poem is in
part the source of (he brilliant descriptions found in the Irish
r^jmances of the seventh and eighth centuries? To state tho

' Cf. Kin«. /titin. Aiui. xxxi. ; Ebert, i.v. Luluiliiu, ia H«ROg a
PUlI.

THE PHCENIX LEGEND 245

surmise is to beget doubt in it ; but we must carry thi; investi-
gation deeper into the post before we can put it on one
side.

In the meantime let us note that the Phoenix legend is ai
Egyptian origin 50 far as we know ; that it also, like the Bran
story, involves the idea of re-birth, as well as of a country free
from all the ills of this mortal life ; and that neither the Latin
nor the Anglo-Saxon poem identify this country with the
heaven of orthodox eschatology, with ihe paradise of orthodox
biblical history, or with the millennial period deduced by early
Christian writers, both orthodox and heteticaJ, from certain
sayings of Christ.*

It is worth white to slate concisely Ihe main points in wiiicll ihe Aogb'
(lifTers from the Latin Phcenix, The dwelling-place of the moffc
■ an island ; il is removed from the might a! cvil-docrs; beoven is
Tisible from it ; its (reet ore not only ever ereen, liut beat perpetual Tiuil ;
the land will disappear at Ihe world's end, hut abide blooming unlit the
judgment.

These trails are perhaps so general in characler, or arise in p.irl so
naturally out of Ihe more definitely Christian lone of the Anglo-Saxon
poem, that any argument based upon Ihem should not be pushed too far.
At the same time it is signilicRnl that in these particnlais the Anglo-
Saxon poem approximates to the Irish visioD oí heaven ot the great
Pleasant Plain, and allows the conjecture of Irish inQucnce thereby. Am
is well known, Noithumbria, to which district ihe Anglo-Saxon Phimix
must he assigned, was evangelised from Ireland, and the closest teUtioni
subsisled for many years between the two lands; Irish saints, such ns
Fursa, the hero of the oldest Irish vision of heaven and hell, Itavellcd and
were held in high honour in Britain ; Northambrian kings, such as the
seventh ccnluif Aldficd, passed years of exile in Ireland and became pro-
ficient in Irish lelleis. There was opportunity and to spare for Christian
Ireland, si that period Ihe chief centre ot inlelleclnal life in Western
Europe, to have influenced the rising Christian litemlure of eighth century
Hoilbumbiia.

Interesting question* are raised by the Phcraii story in Maclduin's

»46

THE PHÍÍNIX LEGEND

As the Chmtian clement in the Ph(£ntx see
the niyMium cleicription Íi is to Christian documents t
muit turn for analogues. The work of comparison has 1
singularly focililntcd by a recent discovery. Fortncrij;S
ihc exception of the Revelation of John, we poi
dclnilctl stntrnicnt of Christian ideas about life in the <
world. The Revebtion of Peter, a document of high i
wide popularity and authority in the early Church, 1
«upplÍL» tile need, and furnishes us with an account of 1
later ft[)Ocalyptic writings manifestly made considerable a
that it, far more than the canonical Book of í'
must be regarded as the main source of the cxlenuveC
literature in which Heaven and Hell are described in t!iS||
of a vinion.i

As far OS the Heaven descriptions are concerned it is 6
that there ia likely lo Ijc overlapping in the account of F
pro[)er, and of the Old Testament Paradise ; tliat the e
millennial dÍii]KnHatÍon preceding the final judgment i

Voy*ec. Doea it teprcKOt a Itut LaXia lenian, or ai
due lo i(;nu»nce antl ciprice uf th« Irith tlory-lelleti In aJVotber fonu
of tiM Icgoi) (lit ii (he purifylntt anil rcgenernling clenieal to which the
aged I'hccnii rcioru. True, the bird i> repreienlid u lialhini; Iw«It«
limci. anil (iicgory (if Tonn in hi] BCC'iBnt i>r the jineni mrnlioiu a baA
I mni*il lately jireinlinj; Ihc lliíirnlí'i lelf'immoUlion. Thii puuijc ii
foiinit neither in Ihe Laiin nor in Ihe Anglo-Saxos, bat it majr hMO
figured in lli« (aim known to the Iriih nxnancci and have tu([i;e*ted to
him ihe incident ha namitcii. liul we may also ileteci Ihe inflaeoeeof
that anlifiuG Iiiih legend of the Weil of Wudam and Iiupiratioe il«r{«<M|
ll* rlttue from Ihe magic Iwrrici that fall into it, died mfra (|>. SI4) is
ihe Sinitnn dmrnhimhtti.

' Uneiuihed in Ihe cemetery of Akhlm In L'ppcr Efinit. Ineellwi wU
fracmiinU of the npcorphal (impel of Peler, and Uw lort Creek (cU rf
the Book of I^nuch. The Knelntion of Feter wu fint edited by H-
Ilouiiant (Pari», iSgi). I uie Mi. Jamo'» ediiioQ, Cambfidcc if

. SUDStSJ

^Vjpf an (

CHRISTIAN APOCALVPTIC 24?

probably be depicted with much the same colours ; and thai,

in liter limes, when the millennial belief had waned, the

substsjice of these descriptions would be used in the portrayal

f an earthly Utopia, or even of what may be called a legendary

y land, the poera of the Phoenix being an instance in point

s Rohde has well remarked ' die reine Idylle Íst ihrer Natur

"nach eintiinig,' and the fact that these different conceptions

may all be set forth in much the same manner need not

necessarily imply dependence of the one upon the other.

IJTbat is a point to be determined by other considerations
besides the greater or less similarity of the traits under which
|he beauteous country is described.
I The Revelations of John and Peter,

I The oldest and most famous of the Christian apocalyptic
irritings, the only one which has been admitted, though with
' many doubts, into the canon, the Revelation of St, John the
Divincj affords but little material for comparison.' Such
is^es as vii. 16; 'They shall hunger no more, neither
lirsl any more ; neither shall the sun light on tliem, nor any
, : 'and there shall be no more death, neither
row nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain,' arc
once loo general in character and too obviously dependent
in purely ethical ideas which have already found expression
the Prophetic and post- Prophetic phase of Judaism. The
apocryphal Revelation is of far more interest in this connection
than the canonical, I cite the more salient passages.

The twelve accompany Christ into the mountain and
lech sight of one of the righteous brethren departed from

> This is unJcrituidable, if, us muDy scholars hold, this Revcbtion is

a Jewish work, with definite Cbritlian ndditions and totot

neml GirísIÍBn revision.

J48

CHRISTIAN APOCALYPTIC

thi; wurld. He grants iheir rt^uest, and there snddeoljáj
two men, ' their iKxlies were vrhiler than any ii
than any rose, and the red thereof was minted wHb tbe 4
and, in a word, I cannot describe the beatity of t
their Itatr wax thick and curling and bright, and beaotifti 4
thdr iacc and their ahouldc-rs like a wreath woven of sj
and bright Sowers, or like a rainbow in the skf, sacb «
beauty. . . . Then the Lord showed me a very great ^
outside thin wurld shining excessively with light, and tl
that was thert illuminated with the rays of the son, a:
earth itscir blooming with unfading flowers, and fuD of ^
and fair-flowering plants, incorruptible and t
fruit: and so strong was the perfume that it was borne d
to us from them. And the dwellers in that land were c
the raiment of angels of light, and their raiment was Uke||
land.'

The Revelation of Peter proceeds to describe the Ii
Hell in elaborate detail, and, in the general economy a
as in the s|^HK:ial featurts of the vision vouchsafed i
Apostles and recorded by Peter, approves itself I
doubt as the model and niain source of the c
apocalyptic visions, 'I'hc tendency in these is to r
the one itide, and to intolerably elatjorale on the (
tlescriplion of the abodes reserved for the blessed t
for the damned 1 select the following passages I
illustrative material brought together by Mr. Janu
cxlition of the Revelation of Peter, or in his
publicatiotu in the Cambridge scries of Texts and StadÍ

LitTER Visiotts.

In the third century Vision of Satunis, Hcan

described ' as a great space like a gartlcn, harixig fOMJl

CHRISTIAN APOCALYPTIC 249

and flowers of all sorts. The height of the trees was after
the manner of a cypress, and the leaves of them sang with-
out ceasing,' the air of the land has an uiispeakable sweet
odour which nourishes and satisfies the inmates.'

So too, in the fourth century Visio PauH : ' And there were
by the banks of the river, trees planted full of fruits, and that
land was more brilliant than gold or silver; and there were
vines growing on those date-palms, and myriads of shoots,
and myriads of clusters on each branch ; ' as for the city, ' its
light was greater than the hght of the world, and greater than
gold, and walls encircle it, and four rivers encircled it flowing
with milk and honey and oil and wine.' '

In the History of Barlaam and Josaphat, Josaphat is
' caught away by certain terrible beings, and passing through
places which he had never seen, and arriving at a plain of vast
extent, flourishing with fair and very sweet-smelling flowers,
where he saw plants of all manner of kinds, loaded with strange
and wondrous fruits, most pleasant to the eye and desirable to
touch. And the leaves of the trees made clear music to a
soft breeze and sent forth a delicate fragrance, whereof none
could tire, as they stirred. . . . And through this wondrous
and vast plain those fearful beings led him, and brought him
to a city which gleamed with an unspeakable brightness and
had its walls of translucent gold, and its battlements of stones
the like of which none has ever seen. . . . ' *

Messianic and Utopia Forms.
The foregoing examples are all taken from the definite g""^

t legend of which the Revelation of Peter is the model
, type, and to which the Irish vision legends, starting in
dghth century with the Vision of Fursa, and represented
J»mes, 60. • Texti and Siudies, • Jame*, 58.

250

CHRISTIAN APOCALYPTIC

by such teicCs as Adamnin's Vision, undoubtedl)' beloc^ i
all of these the happy and beauteous land is Heaven in a
ordinaiy accepted sense of the term. Early Christian lite
likewise supplies similar descriptions without emplojrtngl
Vision m:u:hineTy. Thus the famous closing passage oTJl
second Sibylline Oracle, aTier describing the last judgment ■
the banishment of the wicked to Gehenna, proceeds :
the others who practised righteousness and good works, f
and upright judgment, angels shall bear them throu^ I
burning stream, leading them to the light and to a life «
care, whither tends the undying way of the great Cod ; t!
streams arc there of wine and milk and honey. Earth t
be equally measured for all, no waits nor any enclosures i
split it up ; abundance of fruit shall it bring forth t
itself; life shall be in common and freed from ridies.
poor shall Ije there, nor rich, nor any rukr, nor s\ans, J
shall any be greater or less, nor kings, nor lords, but oU I
Ik; alike. None shall say— 'tis now night or morning ;
it hap[>cnc'd yesterday ; none— so many more daj-s ha?e m
trouble ourselves. No spring nor summer, neither wintafl
autumn. Neither marriage nor death, no buying nor «
Neiilier sunset nor sunriite, for He shall make one long d
Here, although the description is formally one of Hei
of an abode that is of blessed spirits, tlic essence of^
conception applies rather to a gloriHed human tocieiy, i
the whole is thus connected with Uie pre-disperston Mesianic
Jewish belief rather than with orthodox Christian eschaiolocy.
This in but natural Cí>nsÍ<ierin(5 llie nature of the works known
as the Sibylline Oracles, a |>n-'- Christian amalgam of Jewish
and classic conceptions worked over, added to, and continued
by Christian writer*. The same historic origin and com
' OracuJi Sibrllinn icc, J. H. Friedlirli. p. 47-

CHRISTIAN APOCALYPTIC 251

of development may be postulated to account for the earthly
paradise where dwell the Blessed Ones, the descendants of
the Rechabites, as it is described in the fifth and sixth century
Apocalypse of Zosimas the hermit : the seer is carried across
the river dividing the heavenly land from ours by two trees
which bend down and waft him over, these trees are ' fair and
most comely, full of sweet-smelling fruit," t!ie land was a place
full of much fragrance, ' there were no mountains on one side
or the other, but a plain full of flowers all begarlanded, and ail

tthe land was fair.' '
I The Ten Tribes.

The legend of the Lost Ten Tribes may be cited in the
same connection. Their dwelling-place is thus described in the
Ethiopic ' Conflict of Matthew,' translated by the Rev. C. S,
Malan : its inhabitants ' want neither gold nor silver, neither
tax flesh nor drinic wine, but feed on honey and drink of the
. . the water we drink is not from springs, but from the
^ves of trees growing in the gardens. . , . Neither do we
t wear garments made by the hand of men ; nor is a word
lf lying heard in our land. No man marries two wives, neither
s the son die before the father. The young do not speak
eforc the old ; our women dwell with us, they neither corrupt
B nor wc them ; and when the wind blows, we smell through
t the smell of gardens. In our land there is neither summer
■nor winter, neither cold nor hoar frost ; but on the contrary, a
breath of life.' '

The Conflia of the ,\postle3 is a late work, and did Ihc
story of the wonderland, where dwell the lost tribes of Israel,
rest upon its authority alone, I should not have cited it But
it Í3 vouched for by the third century Lalin |K>et Commodian,

■J"

•}tu

!, 7a

TexU and Sladic*.

as» CHRISTIAN AND IRISH TEXTS

whose lines, quoted below, testify to a common source for
episode as presented by him, a.nd as found in (he ^thl
It should be noted however that one of the touches «
recurs most constantly in Elysium descriptions is absent fi
his version ; he has nothing to say of the equable and tec
ato sunniness of the dime.'

Christian and Irish Texts comparid.

The series of instances might easily be extended, i
writing an account of the Elysium conception in Chrii
Itterature. As it is, I have restricted myself to what is j
enough to show the wide range, the essential variety, a
far-reaching popularity, in early Christian literaturei i
group of conceptions concerning an extra-terrestrial land f
from the spiritual, social, and physical evils of this f
Whether it be the orthodox Christian heaven that i!
or humanity under Millennial condition, or a fairyland b
the confines of humanity, or a golden age of virtuous ir
in the remotest portion of earth or at the dawTi of histo
common stock of images and descriptions is drawn upc

' Mendacinro ibi non esl, sed netjue odium ullum ;

Iddico ncc rauritui fíliiu taos ante paieotcs ;

Nee mortuoi pluigunl aec luguol more i]« notlro.
950 Expectant quoniun resuitectioncmque futnnm.

Non uiimnin olUm vcKunlar addilii eicit.

Sed oleia t«ntiiiB, quoil sii une »npiÍDe fuio.

Jiutitia pleni inlibcla coiporc vivunl.

In Ulii nee ecneiis eicrcct inpia vUct.
9S5 Nod rebra occedunl in iilii, non frigora Hera,

Olilempenuit qucmLim unlvcrM caadUe Itgit |

Quae no* el ipii «equcmui pure tivenic* ;

Hon tanluDi ■deiu c( labor, nam cetera nitda.

iCamea Apolocet. **. 947 «fM

CHRISTIAN AND IRISH TEXTS 253

which we recognise elements familiar to us from the Voyage of
Bran and allied Irish romances.

There is an apparent widening and humanising of these con-
ceptions in the Christian texts that have been cited. The
earliest are purely eschatological, and in more or less accord
with orthodox dogma ; in one of the latest, the Phcenix, the
Christian element is minimised, or rather has the appearance
of being alien and intrusive. It is precisely this legend which
in its latest form presents the closest analogies to the Irish
Otherworld description ; it is this legend of which there are
obvious traces in a romance (the Voyage of Maelduin) belonging
to the Otherworld cycle as it may be called ; it is the later form

'the legendwhich is nearest to the Irish tales, geographically and
:mologically. The surmise again forces itself upon us — are
the Irish conceptions a further step in the de-Christianising

a Heaven ideal found, in its perfection, in Christian writings
of the first century ? Such an hypothesis assumes that the Irish
used the presentments of this ideal in two ways, developing
Ihem in strict accord with their Christian tone and tendency
in such works as the Visions of Adamnán and Fursa on the
one side, and extracting from them ornamental accessories for
poetic recreations of native mythology, such as the Voyage of
Bran or the Wooing of Etain on the other. In the first case
they retained a main characteristic of the Christian vision of
the Otherworld, the description of Hell ; in the second they
eliminated this element altogether, as did the author of the
Phccnix.

If the Christian examples I have cited were our earliest
ibtainable starting-point, it would be necessary to test this
ithesis, and the first step would be to tabulate the differ-
between the Irish and the Christian accounts, instead of

ifining ourselves as in the foregoing pages to accentuating the

254 JEWISH APOCALYPTIC

points of contact. But the Christian conct;ption of an Other-
world, as depicted in the literature of the first four centuries
is simply the last link of a long chain the earlier links of
which are accessible to us. The consideration of Othenrorld
conceptions in literature chronologically older than Christianity
must be our next step.

One source of the Christian account has already bceo
mentioned, the Jewish Messianic belief. The vision fonn
in which this belief is embodied is represented lo a slight
extent in the canonical collection by the Book of Daniel,
but far more fully in a number of Apocryphal writings, dating
between 150 b.c. and the time of Christ, of which the
Book of Enoch may be taken as a representative.' The con-
nection between this literature and the Christian Apocalypsa
is manifest, and the description in Enoch of Heaven, or rather
of the Messianic kingdom to be established by the Son of
Man after the final judgment, offers some interesting points of
comparison. The Paradise account in Genesis fumisbei
many elements, and is probably responsible for insistence
upon the wondrous tree, the fruit of which is to nourish the
elect, and its sweet odour shall enter into their bones (c xxiv.) ;
other traits may be due to reminiscences of Babylonian
mythology, such as the assignment of Shcol (the land of the
dead awaiting judgment and resurrection) to the ^Vcst (c. xviL)i
But the chief note is ethical, the reaffirmation and elabonitioa
of (he pToplictic vision of the triumph of righteousness, albeit
material traits arc by no means lacking ; after the establishment
of the Messianic kingdom 'the jjlant of righteousness and
uprightness will appear, bbout will prove a blessing : ri^tMna-
ncss and uprightness will ba tsUiblished in joy for ever. And
then will all the rijjhtcous escape and will live till tbcy Ix^ct 9
' I quote from KIi. Quftn'i edilion, Lunilon iSqj

H^ planted
^Htrees wí

^Vftbundar

JEWISH APOCALYPTIC 255

thousand children, and all the days of their youlh and their
old age will they complete in peace. And in those days will
the whole earth be tilled in righteousness, and will all be

' planted with trees and be full of blessing. And all desirable
i will be planted on it . . . the vine will yield wine in

^abundance, and of aU the seed which is sown will each
; bear ten thousand, and each measure of olive will
yield ten presses (c. x.). Again {c. xxv.) it is stated of the elect,
' they shall live a long life upon earth, even as thy (Enoch's)
forefathers lived, neither in their days shall sorrow, distress,
trouble, or punishment afflict them.'

It is curious in view of the Christian Irish division of the
Otherworld into four pails, traced by Professor Ziramer to
influence of the older pagan belief upon Christian doctrine,
that in Enoch the souls of the dead are collected and sorted
out according to their merits into four regions of Sheol. The
first division comprises the righteous that suffered persecution
and martyrdom ; the second the righteous dying a natural
death; the third for the sinners that escafw punishment in

Itflis life; the fourth for the sinners punished in this life

Christian and Classic Escuatoloov.

A careful comparison of Jewish and Christian Apocalyptic

[^writings makes it evident, however, that much in the latter

cannot be derived from the former.' This is notably the case

' SecastothbE. deFnye, Lempocalypsesjuivn, Puis, 18921 Dietrich,
Nekyta. Leipzig, 1S93, and Charles's Book oi Enoch, fai sim, A vBlnablc
iiticlcjust issued in ihe /twiiA Quarttrly Rivinvfui June 1S9S msyalso
be consulted will) advantage. Dr. K. Kohlci, The Pie-Talmudic Haggida :
The Apocftlypie of Abrahnm and it» Kindred. The Rev. Dr. Gulet, io
' if article, Hebrew Viuoiu of IleU and Paisdise (,/aunial e/ ih» Reyal

'5^

CLASSIC ESCHATOLOGY

with the account of Hell, which occupies a far larger s
all the Christiart visions (saving always the Revelatiool
John, the most closely akin of any to the pre-Christian Jffl
Apocalypses) than that of Heaven. The general economy ■
the special details of this account in the great mass of the vi
argue a common source. It has lately been claimed i
convincing learning that this source must be sought for, t
Jewish, but in Greek conceptions, that the Christian '.
derives immediately from the Hellenic one. This depeiu
of Christian upon classic eschalolog>- has recently been b
to the notice of the general public by Professor Percy C
Contemporary Jtevinv, March 1895), ''"' '' "
enough to deserve a brief exposition of the facts upflB '
which it is based. For a full presentment of the theory the
reader is referred to Dietrich's Nckyia, The original Greek,
possibly pan- Aryan, Hell would seem to have been a place oi
filth and gloom. It becomes really prominent in Greek
literature from the fifth or sixth centuries b.c. onwards, a pro
mtnence due to ihe marked extension of Orphic- Fythagomui
doctrines at the period. The salient element of these doctriocs
is an eschatological one ; they strenuously insist upon the
terrors of the Otherworld, enhancing thereby the force of thdf
claims to provide, through the medium of the mysteries, a mode
of escape, both from the tortures of the penal Hell, and the
burdeasome 'circle of life," or cycle of rc-birth. Hell is con-
ceived of as purificatory, fire as lustnU, the punishment is

Aiialie Sfidtljr, July 1893) has daimcil a Jcwuh utigiu !ai the Apvcalypat

p B f rclcf on (tie iticDgih of Jewiih vmIdik known 10 ut Id leiu luaoy

Iter in ilate. I un only igrn wilh Dietrich, iii, ih^I luch a

eniioa it entirely wrons. The hniaty of Jewiih belief coDcrnuiig tbe

re life hubeen minutely traced by F. Schwtilly, JUdbebi Vurdellsii

von Lebct) iwcb dem Tale, L.el|«i|f 1893, nnd it hu tiecn unply p

Ihu the CfdiAtolagy ol Jiulainu U 1«te and Inttowcd.

CLASSIC ESCHATOLOGY

=57

to ibe crime. A consistent and orderly economy of
11 is thus eLiborated, the main features of which reappear
almost unchanged in the Christian Apocalypses. But their spirit
is changed all for the worse ;, divorced from the underlying
conception of purification through suffering, the penalties of
Hell became simple tortures, the lustral aspect of fire yields to
that in which it is the unrivalled agent for inflicting pain.

The evolution thus briefly sketched can be traced with
almost absolute certitude owing to the richness of the material
and the elaborate complexity of the Greek system of Other-
world punishment in its later stages. In the nature of things
the same certainty cannot be expected in the case of Heaven
delineations, which are everywhere both scantier and simpler.
But the a priori likelihood that Christian eschatology derives
much of the material equipment of its Heaven from the same
source upon which it draws so largely for its Heli, is sufficiently
strengthened by an examination of the evidence, as we shall
now see, to deserve the name of certainty.

Before proceeding further a possible objection of principle
may be considered. Comparison between Irish and Christian
beliefs is, it may be urged, fruitful from the known historic
influence of the Christian faith upon Ireland. But are not
Greek and Irish mythic literatures loo remote to allow of
profitable comparison ? Hardly ; the hypothesis of pre-
historic community of mythic beliefs is by no means to be
:ted a firiori, whilst if it prove untenable, there still remain
possibilities of historic contact of the Hellenic worid upon
Cdtdom during the four centuries preceding Christianity, or of
the influence of classic culture Upon Ireland consequent upon
ilie introduction of Christianity. This premised. I will proceed
to cite from Greek literature examples of the Otherworld, con-
ceived of as an abode of bliss and freedom from earthly ills.

CHAPTER XI

ACCOUNTS OF TUB HAPPV OTilERWORt.D

llonKT— Kohdc's view at the Homeric Hudo ana of Ibc di

Elysium conception In Greece ; olijections thmt^-Hoi
mythical jinusions— Pindai— The Prríctcin a^—VarTlnK «I
Etjnium as Outerworld and Underworld—KoRiuilic and dldiclie J
the conception, Iljperborcaii, later localiuilion oT the mantl t
India— Lucian— Greek the main KUlrca of ChriulM i
deschplions — Panillel between Greek nnd Iriih Elystun
derelopmenl of Gn«k belief— SeHutins nnd Sl Braild«n-
Claudian — The VeruilÍLin Ula(úi and Ellj^ium — SummarT ^M
development of the conception— Inili ncrounl rclMnl to MriivM
The free love clctnent in the Iriib accounU— The diaslil/ ideal faS
literature — Parallel erf tlie fofmal inrlliolot^ral elementi in G
Iii&h litenUorc

Earlv Epic AccotWT of OniRRWORLD.
The consiilcratiun of any innnifestaUon or die HeUcnic i
must start from the Kotnertc poems. It is in these, at 'j
the earliest and the most cliarnctoristic products of the C
genius, tlial wc fmó perhaps the most vivid presentment fl
Happy Othcrworld, one upon which fofloning gcnentt]<
singers and thinkers do but ring the changes. In the I
Hook of the Odyssey, Mendaus relates how, having cap)
I'rolcus liy stratsgem, he ^eckit ffom the Ancient ufthel
foreknowledge of tlie fate of liis coiiiiiecra, and of bis q^
Proteus prophesies to him : ' Iltit thuu, Menclaui, i
Zeus, art not ordained lo (tie am] meet thy fate i

HOMERIC ACCOUNT

259

pasture land of horses, but the deathless gods will convey
thee to the Elysian plain and the world's end, where is Rha-
damanthus of the Fair Hair, where hfe is easiest for men. No
snow is there, nor yet great storm, nor any rain ; but alway
ocean sendeth forth the breeze of the shrill West lo blow cool
upon men ; yea, for thou hast Helen to wife, and thereby
they deem thee lo be son of Zeus.' ^ Noting that Menelaus
does not die, but is conveyed away from this earth, though
not to the company of the gods, and that this privilege is
granted him not from any personal merit, but solely because
of his relation to Helen, herself of the race of the deathless,
we pass on to other passages which portray a land fairer and
happier than tiie earth known to men. True, these do not
expressly refer to a country to which mortal men may be
transported out of this life, but rather to remote fairy lands,
access to which, though difficult, is not imfiossible; return
from which, though rare, is not miraculous. Of such a kind
is the isle of Syria, which the swineherd thus describes to
Odysseus : ' There are the turning places of the sun. It is not
very thickly peopled, but the land is good, rich in herds and
flocks, with plenty of corn and wine. Dearth never enters ihe
land, and no hateful sickness falls on wretched mortals.'^
Such a land, again, was doubtless, in its origin, that of
Phseacia, but here the picture is so far humanised as to have
well-nigh lost its mythic atmosphere. So, too, in the fifth
.book, with Calypso's isle ; full of delight and beauty though it
be, yet these lack the mythic touch and tone, found only in
the goddess's words when Hermes bids her, from Zeus, to part
with her mortal lover : ' Hard are ye gods and jealous ex-
ceeding who ever grudge goddesses openly to mate with men,
if any make a mortal her dear bedfellow. Even so when
Odysse/, Bmcher md Lang, 66. ' Odyssey. 153.

;6o

HOMERIC ACCOUNT

rosy-fingered Dawn look to her Orion for a lover, yc gods
that live at case were jealous thereof. ... 50« too, when
fair-tressed Demeler yielded to her love, and lay with lasiOD
in the thrice ploughed fallow field, Zeus . . . slew him. So
again ye gods now grudge that a mortal man should dwell
with mc, . . . him have I loved and cherished, and 1 said I
would make him to know not death and age for ever.' '

The immortal dames of Hellas are thus fain of mortal
embraces as are those of Erin, and the lure they hold forth is
the same — freedom from death or decay. The main difiierence
in the situation, as conceived by the poets of cither race; is
llie greater stretigth among the Greeks, as compared with the
Iriih, of patriarchal and marital authority. Zeus will ixil
allow a subordinate goddess the freedom of choice Manannio
concedes to his wife.

The Odyssey thus knows of a land whither mortals may, as
an exception, be transported by special favour of the gods ; of
lands excelling earth in fertility and delight, to which monab
may penetrate in the ordinary course of natures of lands
dwell in by amorous goddesses who attract and retain
Eavoured mortals. It also knows of a region act apart for the
immortal ones, even as the tid arc set apart for the Tuatha
Do Danann ; in Greek, as in Irish belief, this region is dc6-
natcly associated with mountains. The Greeks localised
their seat of the gods on Olympus, and Homer uses in por-
traying it the colours with which he had pictured the ratlin
ruled over by Rhadamanthus : 'it standeih fa»t for ever.
Nut by winds is Íl shaken, nor ever wet with rain, not doth
the snow come nigh thereto, but most clear air is spread about
it cloudless, and the while light floats over it. Therein tiie
bicsicd gods are glad for all their days.' *

HOMERIC ACCOUNT

361

In the post-Homeric epic poems, the transference of heroes
' to an Elysian land, of which Proteus' prophecy to Menelaus is
the only definite instance in the works ascribed to Homer
himself, is of frequent occurrence. The Kypria told how
Artemis carried off Iphigenia ; the Mthlopis, how Zeus, at the
request of his mother Eos, grants deathlessness to Memnon,
and how Theiis carried off the body of Achilles from the
funereal pile to Leuke, the ' white isle ; ' the Telegonia, how
Telegonus, son of Ulysses and Circe, slain unwittingly by his
father, is carried off by his mother to the island /l-^aea, where
(married to Penelope !) he leads an undying life.' This idea
appears still further developed in Hesiod. In the Works and
Days the poet sketches the past history of mankind; fourth
of the races known to him is the godlike kin of the heroes,
whom the older world called half-gods. ' War, ala?, and horrid
discord ruined them, some fell around seven-gated Thebes,
some in the Trojan's land, whither, shipping o'er the mighty
welter of the waves, they went for fair-tressed Helen's sake.
Peath wrapped them in night. Zeus the father decreed for
thers a stead at the world's end, far off from the immortals
Where reignelh Kronos).' There they dwell evermore, with
Blinds untroubled, by the waves of ocean deep, in the isles of
f'the blessed. Heroes most fortunate, to whom thrice yearly
I earth yields honey-sweet fruits.'

One poem, the Odyssey, tliua supplies parallels to all the

salient traits of the Irish conception of the Happy Otherworld,

whilst in works of almost equal age we find the first traces of

'heaven,' a happy land that is reserved for mortals of ex-

^tional deserts, after death has removed them from this

1 Rahde, 7S, el inj.

* Thii vnsc U tcgnrJcd a

It-FintUrir.

n intctpolntion, Ihoueh a

262

ROHDE'S VIEWS

eaith. Before citing and discussing later instances from
Greek mythic literature, some idea must be formed as to Uie
date of the passages in the Odyssey, and their relation both to
the statements of post-Homeric writers, and to the bclit^
concerning life after death set forth in the oldest monument
of Greek imagination, the Iliad. The lateness of the Odyssej*,
as compared with the Iliad, and the fact that it has been in-
terpolated down to the period of the post-Homeric epics, att
taken as established.

Rohde's View of Epic Beuep.
The most exhaustive and stimuladng study of Hdlenic
beliefs concerning the soul and life after death is that of Erwin
Rohde in Psyche ; Sedencull una VniltrbHckktUislofbt der
Gritchen (Freiburg, 1890-94). An excellent summary of hit
argument, in so far as the Homeric belief is coDcerned, b
furnished by Miss Harrison in her notice of the first sectioa of
this work (Classical Review, iv. 376-77), I need make no
apology for transcribing the essential parts of this suinmaij:
' The gist of Rohde's contention is this : Homer (takinf
Homer for epic tradition generally) believes that something
persists after death ; that something is no more life, thoi^h il
is called Psyche ; rather it is the very opposite of life, it is the
shadowy double of a man deprived of all the chju-acteristics
of life. This something, as soon as the body is burnt, goes
away to a place, apart, remote, from which there ts no pocd-
bilily of return. Further, this something, once gotic to Hada^
has no power for good or c\*il on the living. In a word, the
Homeric world is haunted by no ghoMs . . . hence after the
funeral there is no cultus of the dead, no ofTenngs at the
tomb : all is done. In this respect Homeric faiib is matkedly
different from that of most primitive peoples. Usually the dad

ROHDE'S VIEWS

263

nian's ghost haunts his lomb, is locally powerful, must be
iended and appeased. Moreover, in post-Homeric times we
fjid an elaborate culCus of the dead, hero-worship, and the
whole apparatus of a faith that recognises the power of the
departed soul. . . . Here, Rohde contends, and we believe
ri^tJy, that this faith and this ritual existed before Homer,
and that in his poems there ate traces of its survival ; that
dixing the period of epic influence it slept for a time ... he
bdieves in fact in the epic break of tradition. ... To the
OLStence of the Homeric break Hesiod gives incidental and
most interesting testimony. His five ages are characterised
not more by their moral standard than by their status after
death. One after the other they follow in regular decadence
wi;h but one break in their continuity, and that for the epic
heroes. The golden race after death are happy daimons,
guardians of men; the remotest tradition then known to
Hffliod shows abelief in thcaf''«'iVj''i'id local^ presence of the
souls after death. The men of the silver race, disobedient to
Zeus, buried in the earth, but still were powerful and wor-
shipped after death. The iron race went down to Hades
naineless. The fourth race, the heroes of Thebes and Troy,
inte.Tupt the downward sequence — a pari of them "death
L covered," and they reappeared no more ; a few, the exception
I always, Zeus kept alive, they never suffered death, but they
L wei« translated to remote regions, islands of the blessed.
■ This is perfectly consistent with Homeric faith — if you die,
I you end; if you are favoured by the gods, you are tians-
I lated.'

Believing strongly as he does in this fundamental distinction
\ between the Homeric Otherworld— land of shades, bereft

' This

> Itnrri

It upon them.

304

ROHDE'S VIEWS

of joy and effort, of influence upon the fortunes of mortals —
and the ghost world testilied to by later Greek religion and
postulated by him in pre-Homeric times from such survirali
as the description of the funeral rites of Patroklos, Rohdc <
led to regard the picture of the Elysian land whidi «re fiKl
in the Odyssey as a reaction against the weary hopclessnessof
the after-life vision vouchsafed for instance to Ulysses in kis
descent into Hades. Humanity was not to be cheated of ts
hopes; the poetic imagination of the race, working freejf,
created and embellished in the Elysian fields a last refuge for
the yearnings of the human heart. The ideal of a land, pn-
eminent in all the heart can desire, access to which is not won
through death {thai could only lead lo the ' darkness and
shadow,' ' desolate of joy,' 'where dwell the senseless dcadi
phantoms of men outworn'),' but by the favour of ihc godi,
in which the ^X'Í '^^^ "°^ Q"'' ^^ body, freed as this is
from the decay inherent in mortoJ things, thus pre-suppoet
the mournful epic faith concerning life and death and the
unconquerable recoil of the human mind from a belief 90
purely pessimistic. The elements of the new ideal arc la.'cnt
in the Iliad ; the gods can throw the veil of invisibility «rer
their favourites;' Zeus hesitates whether he shall not catck Dp
Sarpedon alive and send him living to the land of wide Lf kis
(Iliad, xvi.). It is but a step to the conception that the pids
by transferring mortals to a land akin to their own dirine
dwelling, by making them free of the divine food from wiuefa
they derive their immortal vigour, should be able to rcnfet
upon them the most cherished of the divine attributes, doBth-
lessncss. But this step had not l)ccn taken when the Iliad
firutlly assumed the form under which it has come down lo
us, nor when the poet of the Eleventh Book of the Odyu

' Odyucy, li.

' Cf. Robil«'i cumiilet, 65. j

ROHDE'S VIEWS

26s

sent his heio to Hades. Had he known of the fair region
promised by Proteus to Menelaus, he would not have doomed
Achilles, flower of Grecian manhood, to the joyless land where,
as the hero himself says, 'better to live upon the soil as the
hireling of another, than bear sway among all the dead who
are no more.'

The Elysium fashioned by Greek fancy as a protest against
the cheerless creed of the epics was originally no ' heaven ' in
our sense of the word. Neither worth nor valour give the
mortal a cbim upon its enjoyments. And although the
favoured few to whom access to ihe happy land is granted
acquire the divine attribute of immortal youth, they do not,
as do the gods, exercise a steady and acknowledged influence
upon human affairs. No ethical demand for the reward of
human excellence originated the conception of this fairyland,
it started by worship paid to departed mortals for
purposes of veneration or conciliation. In a word, the belief
is not religious. It may possibly have grown up spontaneously
in the post-epic development of Greek literature, as it may
also be due to introduction into Greece of parallel Baby-
lonian mytlis.

Rohde's Views Discussed.
So for the German scholar. His accoimt of the develop-
ment of Greek after-life belief brings into sharp prominence
two phenomena — the apparent inconsistency of the Homeric
ilades with the well-developed funereal cults which lasted in
full vigour for many hundred years after Homer's time, and
the belief, inconsistent also according to him with the Homeric
presentment of Hades, of a happy land to which heroes may
be translated escaping death. This belief, found in the later
portions of the Odyssey, in the post-Homeric epics, and in

966

GREEK AND IRISH LEGEND

Hesiod, he holds to be decidedly later than the real Homeric
creed as exhibited in the Iliad and in Ulysses' descent into
Hades, and to be probably due to foreign influence.

I would ask, is this not to build too much upon certain
peculiarities of the Achilles saga, the subject of the Iliad and
of a portion of the Odyssey, which are conditioned, pcrliaps,
far more by the nature of the story and by unchangeable
literary conventions than by the religious belief of the poet or
of his time? The story of Achilles is tragic, as is that of oil
the great heroes, and the poet can allow nothing to interfere
with the tragic impression he wishes to leave upon the minds
of his hearers. Let us take a strictly parallel case from the
literature we have been considering, the pre-Christian heroic
epics of Ireland. Here too we have visions of the happy
Elysium ; here too it is reserved not for the great and famous
heroes, for Cuchulinn or Conall Ccarnach, for Diarnoaid or
Oscar, but for personages, otherwise unknown, as Bran, or
uocoDnected, save indirectly, with any great cycle, as ConnU,
01 for a sabordinate character of the cycle, as Oisin. The caw
of Cuchulinn is specially to the point ; he is a god's son, he
has enjoyed, in Faery, a goddess's love. How easy 'twould
have been lo picture Lug, Lord of the Fairy Cavalcade from the
Land of Promise, descending to the aid of his mighty so» and
carrying him off to taste in the company of Fann the delights
of the land which knows not age nor decay. No, there must
be no weakening of the tragic lone. The hero musl go lo
his doom, and he must suffer his doom utterly, and so ihc
last glimpse we have of him is as he fastens himself by his
breast-girdle to the pillar-stone m the plain ' that he might
not die seated nor lying down, but that he might die standing
' ' The sole consolation afforded is th'- v<-iíi'p:i(i.-,-
' R. C. lU. i8t.

GREEK AND IRISH LEGEND 267

upon the hero's slayers by his comrade Conall Cearnach and
his faithful steed, the Grey of Macha.'

And if the story-teller has pictured the fate of the Irish, as
the poet of the Iliad has pictured that of the Greek, hero,
unrelieved by any vision of after bliss, so too the Irish
' translated ones ' have this marked characteristic in common
with Menelaus and his compeers. Their translation is con-
nected with no worship paid to them, nor is any influence
upon mortal affairs ascribed to them.

The parallel between Greet and Irish heroic legend is, in
this particular, extraordinarily close, so close thai explanation
in the one case must be in some degree applicable to the
other before we can admit its validity. Yet it will hardly be
contended that the development postulated by Rohde ob-
tained in Ireland as well as in Greece, that the Irish shanachie
imagined his land of women as a protest against the fate
assigned to Cuchulinn and his peers in the heroic epics. At
the utmost, might it be urged, that even as the introduction of
Oriental myths into the Hellasof the eleventh to eighth centuries
B.C., supplied the Greek poets with a canvas upon which to
embroider their fantasies, so classic and Christian legends
brought into the Ireland of the fourth to seventh centuries a.d.,
furnished a similar motif to Irish literature and determined
a similar development. But the inadequacy of such an
hypothesis to explain the essential kinship of the Greek
and Irish accounts must strike every unprejudiced reader.

• The Christian scribe lo whom wc owe the version preserved In the
Book of Leinater odda 1 ' Bui the soul of Cuchulinn appeared al Emaia
Macha (o the fifir queens who hod loved him, and they law him Doming
]d bis spirit chariot, and Ihe; bcaid him chant a myalic song of the comiaQ
of Christ and the day ofdoam.' This saugrtHu addition to tlie old lietoio

\ euliiely or a piece with Gnme of the lalei Creek developmonU of J
Ihc epic storÍB.

a68

THE HELGE STORY

In any case it would not apply to the following parallel I
Norse heroic myth.

By the lime the legends of thu Scandinavian heroic s
had been fashioned into the form under which they I
come down to us, Scandinavian mythic beiief had
system atised, and its eschatology in especial had
elaborated with dogmatic precision. Whether this dev<
ment was conditioned, as is now generally held, by (
and in competition with Christianity, need not here 1
discussed. Certain it is that the men who sang of S^
and Hclge bcHeved in Walhalla, a place of reward i
delight for the brave warrior. Yet the poet of the Hclge i
many details of which presuppose the \Vallialla creed Íb
most advanced form, is compelled, at the risk of gU
inconsistency, to disregard it in order to obtain that supi
eflcct of tragic pathos which sets his work among the i
pieces of human utterance. The dead hero, roused by (
cruet tears of Sigrun, comes to her, not from the haU I
Woden where he sits feasting with his peers, but from I
barrow, the house of the ghosts, where he hcs drenched «
gory dew, his hands cold and dank ; and she, though fad
one of Woden's maidens, follows him into the ~
lying, she alive, in the arms of the dead.'

■ Rydbcrg (Tcutcmic Mythology, l^ndon, 1889, sect. 95) hat
Ingenious BiicmpltocxpUmnway their ÍnconiuieDci«. According ta
lliil which tcnuined rn ihc barrow was Ihe Amf t"' or altir <{v of Hdge
whoic Irue wraith wiu in Wilhails. Dislurticd tiy Si|;ti<ii't lamaiE thu
went back to the Ikitow, united iUelf with the Aomjc irai and Ihm
reappeared before Sigrun. It :> pofsiblc that the camplicaled bcllcft
conceming the vitil principle anti the (ormi under which life taaaUctts
ilwlf in thi« anil in the Olherwnrlil, which Kytllicry «tiacu fniai Uk
Eddaie {Toema may have hten held by k few tbinken, but I cannot bcllc*t
that lh<7 were widely held or that l( la neeoiary lo rc«in ttt \\u
order tn accunnl for tli« Hclee and Signm *tory.

HESIODIC ACCOUNT

i6.

I would urge that beliefs concerning the Hereafter, of an
essentially different, nay, of a strongly inconsistent nature, may
thus subsist side by side, not only at the same time, but even
in the mind oi the same poet or poet group ; and that poetic
treatment of these and like ideas is determined as much by
artistic convention as by racial or individual belief The facts
upon which Rohde bases his hypothesis of a profound change
in Greek faith concerning the future state at the time the Iliad
was composed, and of a later change in this faith, due origin-
ally to Oriental influence, do not, to my mind, justify such far-
reaching conclusions. Greek belief, at the lime of and long
anterior to the Iliad, in a western island Elysium is not, I
would urge, negatived by the undoubted fact that the
Odyssey is on the whole the later of the two epics. Nor is it
necessary to resort to Oriental influence to account for the
vision of the Elysian fields. The probability of such in-
Buence must be judged by other considerations.

Hesiodic Accounts.
I am strengthened in this conviction that the Elysium ideal
among the Greeks is not necessarily, as compared with the
Homeric presentment of Hades, late and of foreign importa-
tion by the fact that its main elements are found in Hesiod in
a different setting. Not only does he mention the Hesperides '
who beyond Ocean's stream guard the golden apples and the
gold fruit-yielding trees (Theogony, v. 215 (■/«?.), a story to
which I shall presently return, but he has in his account of
the first, the golden age of mankind, an instructive parallel —
'like gods lived they with ever untroubled mind, free from
work and care, ay, even from age's burden ; unchanging in
their Ijodies* form they enjoyed a perpetual round of feasting,
delivered from every ill ; rich were their plains in flocks, be-

ayo

HESIODIC ACCOUNT

loved were they of the blessed gods, and when they died H
as if they sank to sleep' (Works and Days, verses iiOjCi
Now after death these happy beings became Saí/wMs, n
tcrs of Zeus' will, guardians of mortals, warders off o
protectors of righteousness, dispcnsators of divine panishn
Rohdc has himself connected the Hesiodic accotint i
earlier forms of ancestor worship, and has insisted Ú
essentially, older than that of Homer, and in the direct li
Grecian bdief, whereas the epic account represents, .
have seen, a break in the tradition. But, if this is so, mhj
separate Hesiod's description of the life led by the golden
age men from the remainder of his picture of these beings,
why not recognise the main outlines of the Elysium ideal as
pre-Homeric? Nay more, if, as I believe, the belief ÍQ a
gold age at the dawn of the world, a paradise that is, is younger
than the bLlÍef in a god's garden outside the world and has
been derived from it, the Hesiodic account, belonging as it
docs to this secondary stage, tcslilies beyond all doubt to the
pre-Homeric existence of the earlier stage'

Whether or no Ihe vision of Elysium be ss old as any other
portion of pre-Hcsiodic Greek literature, must be left uncer*
Cain for the present As far as posI-HesÍodic Itlcraturt: is
concerned, we can trace with accuracy the development of
the conception, and can account satisfactorily for it« various
man ifes Cat ions. We meet with a number of c.iprcssions,
images, episodic allusions, scattered throughout Greek litera-
ture, applicable only by reference to the Happy Othcrworld ;
wc also find the clcmeiit-t of the vision used by poets aiid

' Kohile ailnnlu (99*) that ibc Balden age Icgcnil mof lie otila than
Kctiod I but alto lutmise ibat his docription may be haaeá upon A
ftcoouBtJ of Elfsiuin to that tound in I^tmi' I'rbT^ecT ti
TUi «trike* <Mw m • *tty (omá hyytttheut.

EARLY MYTHICAL ACCOUNTS 271

Lthinkcrs in the elaboration of an ethical scheme of the Heie-
r aftdT, to which they furnish the constituents of a heaven, as
counteipait to the hell, which, under the influence of the
Orphic-Pythagorean doctrines, was being evolved during the
same period. Again, these same elements figure as materials
in the description of an Utopia, sometimes conceived in a vein
of pure fantasy, sometimes with a clearly marked sociological
and ethical intent,

Early Mntiucal Accounts.

Dietrich, in his already cited work, has brought together a

.number of passages referable to Elysium in its earlier stage of

developmeol,somefew of which may be mentioned here.^ From

of old this happy realm is connected with the sun-god. Thus

Sophocles speaks of Phcebus' garden over across ocean's flood

at the world's bounds, where flows the stream of night There

the sun goes to sleep, there he pastures and stables his steeds ;

in its shady laurel grove the son of Zeus rejoins his wife and

dear babes, when he sinks into the depths of dark and holy

night ; there is his palace, full of sweet savours in a golden

chamber of which he stores his beams. This resting-place of

the 9Un-god is also the garden of the Hesperidcs, the singing

daughters of Night, guardians of the golden apples, together

with the dread inspiring dragon whom Keto bore to Phorkys.

From the Hesperidcs to the Ethiopians is the sun-god's daily

round, as Mimnermus sings. And there, Euripides, in a famous

chorus of the Hippolytus, places the palace of the gods.

'There stands Atlas, warder of Heaven's bounds, and there

Llhe daughters of Hesperus who watch o'er the golden apples.

■There is the palace where was wedded the king of the

iimmorlals, there nectar foams, and earth yields to the gods

■ the undying food of this blessed life.'

' Dietrich, ep. lit, \% tl seq.

fJ2

EARLY MYTHICAL ACCOUNTS

In tliese echoes of antique legend, youngcT as ihcy a
the date of their composition or transcription than the l|
epic presentment of ihe heroes' resting place, wc are t
ported into an oldei and purely mythic world, even as the 1
Dinmhcnchas legends, younger though they be than the si
of Bran or Connla, yet have their roots in an older and \
stage of mythic fancy. In neilhercasedoes the earlier roc
text suffice lo account for the later Oiie.

Put Greek fancy was not busied alone with the sun-g
wonderland in the west. The eastern mansion whence |
issues is the subject of like fables. Hence the account of H
sun's feasting among the noble Ethiopians, hence the n
importance of Lycia (the light land), of I'hoinikc (the r
land), of Erylheia (the ruddy sea, out of which the son p
the ruddy island where Geryon pastures his (locks).

To a later but still an early stage would seem to belong rf
designations and allusions which connect this region with f
land of departed souls. Of such a kind is the Lcuca
the white rock past which, in the Odyssey, Hermes leads I
souls of the wooers to the ' mead of Asphodel where dwell \
phantoms of men outworn.' ' To leap from the Leuci '
rock,' long remained in Greece a proverbial equivalent of %
die.'»

' Amone'he t3le«eollectcilin ArcyllalitrebythcRev. D. MuIone^CI
published in the secand volume of Woifi and Stray» of Celtic TiaiUllon, b
one eniiitcd VounB Manns. Thi? hcto i» suckled \fj it mysictioui noil mi^Skf
woinan niter he ha* killed att hi* moitil niine*, Ai her reward the uka
him to accompany her ; 'ihcy »et off, and ai Ihcy were walking lowud*
the nhore, they come to high rocky [iiecipleci. Hoie *iie took hold of
the hoji and Ihrc* liim over, and he wa» leen no morr,' Bat learch l>dn|;
made fur him \><i lh« gardener (who «ppean in the talc endowed with
lupcihamaD powcra), the boy I* (bund ' pUrioft ahlniT oa iho thoic with
a2<7ld duband aulvctbillirhicb hit nunc had|[ivtti bini.' I cununcnlcd

DIDACTIC DEVELOPMENT

»73

Fragments of the earlier mythic vision lingered on in the
consciousness of the Greek race throughout the entire range of
Its manifestation, unconnected with any ethical intent. But
even in Hesiod we trace the beginnings of an attempt to
utilise the conception didactically. From his lime onwards
the development of this tendency is plainly visible. Thus in
Pindar it is not only the old-time heroes, hallowed by their
participation in the great struggles recorded by the epics, to
whom the access to Elysium is granted, but ' all who have had
the courage to remain steadfast thrice in each life, and to
keep their souls altogether from envy, pursue the road of
Zeus to the castle of Kronos, where, o'er the isles of the blest,
ocean breezes blow and flowers gleam with gold — with
bracelets of these they entwine their hands, and wreath
crowns for Iheir head.' From out this passage speaks a spirit
which we can recognise as religious — the insistence upon
worth in this life as a condition of bliss in the next. In its
reference too to the Pythagorean doctrine of Metempsychosis,
we detect the originating cause of this transformation of older
mythic material. Another description of the blest shows how
Pindar, animated as he is by the new faith, which, in his day,
was stirring the Grecian world, yet retains a distinctly materi-
alistic vision of the Oiherworld : ' for them shines the might
of the sun below, when here it is night ; meadows of roses
red skirt their city shaded with incense trees and orchards
laden with golden fruit. And some delight them in wresding,

upon this us follows : * There is a naive bit of euhctnerism here. The
of the hero, by the heroine, to the Underwoild, ihc myslirious land
of Youth aod Piomise, where shinlf is played wiLb i;old clubs and silver
lulls, is tranilated into the nurse's throwing her chaige over the cliff,*
At the (iuie I overlooked the Greek analogy wliich ao itrikingly conlirmi
my interpretation of the incident.

174

PINDARIC ACCOUNT

and some with draught-playing, and some wilh lyres, and
around them, fair flowering, all plenty blooms. And a
dclightsoine smell is spread about the place where they
mingle all goodly spices in the beacon flame upon the
altars of the gods,' a description which, save for the last toocb,
might serve for ibat of Manannan's isle or Midir's fid. Even
loo as Pindar, responsive to the sentiment of his day, presents
us, imperfect though it be, with a vision of hcavei», the
material equipment of which he derives from older mythology,
even so from the same source he draws the picture of an
Utopia. In the tenth Pythian, he speaks of the Hyper-
boreans in language untouched by ethical speculation : ' There,
braiding their locks with gilded bay leaves, they feast right
cheerily. And neither disease nor deadly eld have aught to
do with that sacred race, but without evils or contests they
live.*

The ethical evolution, apparent in Pindar, is definitely
marked in the saying of Sophocles : ' In Zeus' garden only the
blessed ones may plough,' with its undoubted implication of
'blessed' as 'righteous blessed,' and its i den tilt cation of the
domain of the gods with the abiding place of the rewarded
dead. Thtis, after many centuries, were reunited ut Ibe
Greek mind, two conceptions, originally one, that of a land
dwelt in by immortal beings, of more than human power and
beauty, and that of a land free from all the defects and
sorrows of this world to which mortals may penetrate. In the
beginning no ethical significance was attached to the divine
beings, access to their realm was determined by no ethical
considerations. Utlimattly the ' god ' became the expression
of roan's striving after the ideal, and his dwelling-place the doe
and inevitable recompense of man's righteousness in this life.

The belief of tiic Post-Pcriclcan age may bott be gathered

PLATONIC ACCOUNT

'75

from the Pseudo- Platonic Axiochus, To reconcile Axiochus
to the idea of death, Socrates, after the famihar depreciation of
this life as full of toils and troubles and disappointments, thus
pictures to him the abodes of the just, ' Fruits grow there of
every kind, clear springs flow through flower- bedecked meads ;
there philosophers hold converse, theatres are there for the
poets, dance and music, delicious banquets unprepared by
hands, in fine, perpetual peace, unmixed joy. There is no excess
of either heat or cold, but a cooling breeze blows, wanned by
the soft rays of the sun. The initiated take the first place in
this region and celebrate the holy mysteries.' This vision,
although younger than Plato, is vouched for in Periclean
times by the Platonic references which presuppose a similar
ideal, betray how much of its archaic nature still clung to it,
and reveal the main factor in its development. Thus the half-
contemptuous allusion in the Republic to the Orphic doctrine
of the future life : 'still grander are the gifts of heaven which
Musaeus and his son offer the just; they lake them down
into the world below, where they have the saints feasting on
couches with crowns on their heads, and passing their whole
time in drinking ; their idea seems to be that an immortahty
of drunkenness is the highest meet! of virtue.' ' Again, in the
Pha;do, speaking of the future life, he says, 'I conceive that
the founders of the mysteries had a real meaning, and were
not mere trifiers when they intimated in a figure long ago
I that he who passed unsanctified and uninitiated into the
world below, will live in a slough, but that he who arrives
there after initiation and purification, will dwell with the
gods.' The final episode of the Republic, the vision of Er,
the son of Arminius, is a vision of Heaven and Hell con-
ceived of as two districts of an underworld.
' Jowctt't Kepublic, p. 414.

276

UNDERWORLD ELVSIUM

The witness of the comic poet is the same as that of I
philosopher. In the Frogs, Aristophanes pictures the Elf
plain as a region of the vast underworld to which Bm
and his slave penclratc, a region not reserved for -^
famous heroes of the past, but open to all the just, to Ú
purified through initiation.

Underworld Elvsiums.
One point in these later Greek presentments of the C
world demands special notice — the underworld ÍmúU.
cannot fail to recall how in Ireland the blissful land tiea|
only across the western main, but within the hollow I
beneath the waters of the lake. And just as ProfcsKr
Zimmer has surmised a transference, consequent upon tbe
introduction of Christianity, and tbe relegation of the pa^ui
deities to the lid or fairy hills, of scenery, accessories itid
attributes from tlic island wonderland to the realm of tbe stí
folk — so, has it been asserted, the transformation uf the
Homeric Hades, under Orphic influence, led to the Elystan
fields being transported from the isles of Khadamanlhus and
the Hesperides, or the gardens of the sun-god, tu a special
district of Hades conceived of, not merely as the resting-place
of men after death, but as the place where they arc rewarded
or punished for their dtcds in this life. I have already, in
so far as the Irish evidence is concerned, expressed my
dissent, not so much from the conclusions reached by Pro-
fessor Zimmer as from his mode of stating those concluiionsr
and I would urge that current explanations of the Greek
evidence err equally In representing, as a forced and artificial,
thai which is in truth a natural and inevitable, developmciiL
For tbe conception of an underworld realm of Uic dead is, if
I mistake not, latent with all its possibilities in the act of

UNDERWORLD ELYSIUM

=77

burial. The idea of a god's garden, of a land accessible to
mortal favourites of the gods, of a realm open necessarily to
the mighty in vaiour and power and justice, this idea may,
and I believe did, develop itself apart from the customs of
burial, and all that those customs implied. But as soon as
belief in a life after death for all men acquired body and
precision, it was bound to be conditioned by the fact that the
dead man was put into the earth. There was, I believe, no
conscious transference from the island to the Hades Elysium.
More definite belief in the latter brought about greater de-
finiteness in assigning a locahty to it. Indeed, it may be
doubted if, among the Greeks, the Happy Otherworld under-
ground be not really as old as the oversea ideal. Rohde has
collected (104 ct stq.) instances of what he calls 'Bergen-
triickung," in which the favoured mortal, instead of being
transported to the island Elysium, is carried underground.
Thus in the ninth Nemean, Pindar tells how ' for Amphiams
Zeus clave with his almighty thunderbolt the deep bosom of
the earth, and buried him alive with his steeds.' ' Thus
Trophonius, the wise master builder, fleeing from king
Thyrieus, was swallowed up by the earth at Lebadea, and
lives undying in its depths. Similar stories are related of
Kaineus, of Althaimenes, and of others, especially of Rhesus,
whom ihe Euripidean tragedy represents as living in the
boUow hilts of Thracia, rich in silver, a man become like unto
a god-^ In the majority of these cases, especially in those of
Amphiams and Trophonius the legend is bound up, and
seems to have originated from a local worship, and Rohde
regards them as examples of the substitution of legendary
heroes for older Chthonic divinities.^ Is it not possible that the
converse may be true, that these local cults represent an
Jey'i PicJar, 14- ' Mnai, Orpheus, 1895, 67. • P. 116.

=78

HYPERBOREANS

early stage of ancestor worship, which, in a Utter and mote
developed form, was one of the constituent elements of the
organised myliiology? I would, however, only ui^e that in
Greece, as in Ireland, the under- is as old as the outer- world
conception of a land dwelt in by wise, powerful, and immortal
beings. And, if this is so, the greater richness of Irish
mythic legend in accounts of the underworld is surely signi*
ficant. For it is evident that we cannot in comparing the two
bodies of mythic belief take any note of the late and bight;
organised stage of Greek mythology which represents Pluto M
lord of the underground Elysium, Íl is true, but chiefly of the
underground Tartarus.

ROUAHTIC Devilophbmt.
It has already been indicated thai later Gretk Iltcratorc
utilised the machinery of the Isle of the Blessed in the cele-
bration of an Utopia as well as of a heaven. An example has
been cited from Pindar, and the practice is one familiar to the
poet of the Odyssey, although the term ' land of Cockayne '
rather than ' Utopia ' be the one applicable to his description
of a happy, fertile, peaceful land. It was in especial the folk
of the Hy|)erboreans that furnished the substance of later
accounts. They live in a remote fairy land, ' neither by shtpe
nor by a journey on foot shall you find out the mysterious
road to the Hyiwrborcans,' aays Pindar in the tenth Pythian.
It is, perhaps, significant that the poet makes Pcracus pene-
trate thither even as the older legend sent him to the garden
of the Hesperidex, Perseus, who, in the circumstances of hb
birth, his upbringing, his combat with the monster, and de-
liverance of Andromeda presents so many remarkable analopa
to Cuchulinn, who also penetrated to the Kolm of Irish sU
dwcllen. 1 do not propose to notice these stories in detdL

»79
ble Gritchhchtr
■eer in Roscher's

ng points. The
Apolto {i.e. the
isted upon ('the

and everywhere
rs and the clear
n the city,' says
idactic its char-
ase these far ofT
le day ; after the

east to Grecian
ht the Greek in
3f certain Indian
ous communities,
;nds (</ infra, ch.
;ion of the blame-
reek fantasy had
Alexander legend
tnd gave it wide
:U as of the West.

presupposes and
s up tne literary oeveiutnucm > ua.v. briefly sketched in
die foregoing pages — a work in which the Homeric hero-
world jostles the Utopia of Hccatxus of Abdera, in which
equal ridicule is poured upon the Orphic visions of the future
life and the extravagances of the Alexander romances, viz. :
the True History of Lucian. The hero of the fantastic journey
comes to the Isle of the Blessed, and this is how Lucian
describes it: 'As we approached, a sweet and odoriferous

i8o

LUCIAN

air came round us . . . from the rose, the narcissus, the
hyacinth, the lily, the violet, the myrtle, the laurel, and the
vine. Refreshed with these delightful odours ... we came
close up to the island; here we beheld several safe and
spacious harbours, with clear transparent rivers rolling placidly
into the sea ; meadows, woods, and birds of all kinds chant-
ing melodiously on the shore ; and, on the trees the soft and
sweet air fanning the branches on every side, which sent
forth a soft, harmonious sound like the playing of a flute.'
The seafarers land. ' As we were walking through a meadow
full of flowers, we met the guardians of the isle, who, imme-
diately chaining us with manacles of roses, for these are their
only fetters, conducted us to their king' (RImdamanlhus).
They are allowed to remain, to range over the city, and to par-
take of the feast of the blessed. ' The whole city was of gold,
and the walls of emerald ; the seven gates were all made out
of one trunk of the cinnamon-tree ; the pavement, within the
walls, of ivory ; the temples of the gods were of beryl, and
the great altars all of one large amethyst. Round the city
flowed a river of the most precious ointment, a hundred cubits
in breadth, and deep enough to swim in. . . . In thai place
nobody ever grows old ; at whatever age they enter here, at
that they always remain. ... It is always spring with thctn,
and no wind blows but Zephyrus. The whole region abounds
in sweet Howers and shrubs of every kind ; their vines beat
twelve times in the year, yielding fruit every month. . . .
There arc three hundred and sixty-five fountains of water
round the ciiy, as many of honey, and five hundred rather
smaller of sweet-scented oil, besides seven rivers of milk and
eight of wine. Their symposia are held in a place without
the city, which they call the Elysian Field. Thti is j
beautiful meadow, skirted hy a luge mi'"'"

LUCIAN 281

affording an agreeable shade to the guests, who repose on
couches of flowers ; the winds attend upon and bring them
everytWng necessary, except wine, which is otherwise pro-
vided. . . .' What most contributes to their happiness is,
that near the symposium are two fountains, the one of milk,
the other of pleasure ; from the first they drink at the
beginning of the feast ; there is nothing afterwards but joy
and festivity.' The inhabitants of this land are the great
men famous in the epic traditions of Greece as well as
the leading poets and philosophers of the race, and Lucian
shows considerable pertinacity in cross-examining the blessed
dead on divers points concerning which history had been
silent.
I I have quoted sufficiently, I trust, to substantiate the claim
' that Greek literature is the main source of the olherworld
descriptions found in late Jewish and in Christian apoca-
lyptic writings ; and that the classes of composition in which
among the Greeks these descriptions are found were the
models for similíar compositions among those populations
of the Eastern Mediterranean, to whom we owe Judaism and
Christianity- As regards the latter, Christian eschatology,
as so much else of Christian doctrine, is emphatically a
L product of the fertilising influence of Hellenic philosophy
I Rnd religious philosophy upon eastern thought and fancy.
I The ultimate origin of the Greek beliefs and imaginings is a
I point I do not propose to deal with at present. It must
I necessarily be considered in connection with the second
■ portion of this investigation, the doctrine of re-birth as ex-
Eemplified in Celtic myth and romance. For the present I
[;ain content to show that in its presentment of the Other-
Ivorld, Greek Christian is dependent upon Greek Pagan
jtilcrature.

aSa GREEK AND IRISH ROMANCE

Parallel of Greek and Irish Mythic RouAm
Before leaving Greece 1 must restate fully and emphat:
what I have several times hinted at — ihe parallelisni between
Greek and Irish legend in the development of this concep-
tion, In the garden of the singing daughters of the night,
in Calypso's isle, in Rhadamanthus' realm, access to which
is opened by Helen to Menelaus, we have the land of amor-
ous goddesses met with in Bran and Connla ; Ihe nccouut of
Olympus, or Ihe sun-god's western halls, may be likened to
that of Mider's sid, ol the Brugh in which Angus lakes bis
delight. At an early stage these imaginings yielded the
Greek author of the Odyssey the vision of a fairy Utopia,
Phn:adi or Scheria, even as the Irish author of Mselduin
found in the older accounts of the ' great -young-divine ' laitd
the substance of the far-oíT western isles to which hia sca&ren
wandered. At a still later stage, in both literatures, didactic
and ethical pre-occupations make themselves felt ■ — the
wonderland is woven into a sketch of man's story on earth
by Hcsiod, or supplies the machinery for a vision of the
future, as in the Champion's Ecstasy, is worked up by tha
Greek in his picture of the Hyperborean Utopia, or
Irishman in his allegorising portrayal of Cormac's adi
at Manannan's court Lastly, in both cases we find a :
thesis of this vast and lengthened growth of mythic
presented in a vein of half-humorous antiquariantsm.
last term of the parallel is especially remarkable. It
to say that the author of Teígue, son of Cian, knew :
of Lucian's True Story; but, occupying in point of '
literary and social development, much the same
towards the Irish as did Lucian towards the Greek
of the Happy Otherworld, his work is necessarily

LATIN CONCEPTIONS 2'.

nilar characteristics, is forcedly aiiimaiecl by a kindred
spirit.

Roman Development of Greek Conceptions.
Greek thought and artistry conquered the West as the
East. But whereas the contact of Greece and Judea, of
Greece and Egypt, was fertile in the domain of religious
and philosophic speculation, but comparatively barren as
regards literature, the contact of Greece and Rome called
into being a literature which, though ranking in form and
I nobility of expression among the greatest the world has
known, is singularly devoid of originality. As far as the
doctrine and presentment of Hades are concerned, Latin
writers simply repeat the statements of their Greet models.
It is, moreover, the latest stage of the conception thai we
find reBected in their literature. Be the reason what it may,
I the Italian Aryans seem lo have lacked that prehistoric body
I of mythic romance which underlies, and out of which has been
' developed, the literature of other Aryan races. Thus we find
among the Koraaiis few traces, and those purely literary, of the
primitive Elysium, a half-belief in which persists throughout
the range of Greek literature long after it had been replaced in
religious and philosophical systems by more highly organised
conceptions. It is essentially Hades as a place of rewards
and punishments that appealed to the practical ethical instinct
of the Roman, and in the greatest of Roman poets we find
strong traces of the Orphic-Pythagorean doctrines, of those
Greek doctrines, that is, which conceived the otherworld under
its ethical aspect, and sought to use it for practical purposes.

Before I brieHy note a few passages in Latin writers relating

to the Otherworld, I would cite one incident in the life-history

I of the Elysium conception among the ancients to which

i84 SERTORIUS

fifteen hundred years later a singularly dose par
aflbrded in the later stages of the analogous Irish coi
tion. Belief in the isles which the blessed Brendan 1
reached sent many a bold mariner to try his fortunes on i
western main, and may indeed be regarded as among |
contributory causes, by no means the least important, of fl
discovery of the New World. Equally strong, as i
relates, was Sertorius' faiih in the isles of the blessed Ijd
in that western sea, upon which he gaied from the (
of Spain. To quote the words of Plutarch, ' Sertorius, h«
these wonders, had a strong desire to fix himself Íi
islands wheru he might live in perfect tranquillity.' '

' Pluturcli'i desCTÍptioD U worth quoting. 'They ttt a
FertHHOtt Islands. Run seldom GilU there, nnd «hen it does it J
modeistely ; but th«y genemlly have Eolt biecws which scalier tudl Ú
dew$, that the soil is not onlj gnod for lowing and pUnling^ I
apontineonsly produces llie most execllent fniils. The ■' '
pleasant and uduUrioui, so that it is gcnetall}' believed thai lhe*e «
Elysian fields and ihe seals of the bletsed which Homer hu do
Ptuiarch'i description is said to be iiniiated from SallutL See DIM
NGk)^a, 31.

The ttory of Sertorius of Ihe milk-while fawn has touched the fi
□nc of Erin's latest singers. I need not apologise for quoling Mt. t
Johnson's graceful venet : —

■ N.iy ! ihis thy seoei will mu» lici

Qvvt the viiloiUTjr KB,

Thy mil» ore tei for perfeel rcsl :

Surely tbjr pure and boly bwti

tUth whiipovd o( an ancient lawn,

Fu bidden down tbc solonn West.
' A gracioui pleaimnce of calm ibingi :

There rose-liaia (all by rippling iptinci :

And capiains of ilie older lime,

Touched with mild tltjbl. or gail}y ileepk

Or in the orcbBid ■h4da*i keep

Old Iri(sdihlpt of ibc goldea («inw . . .'

HORACE

t&5

In this, a parallel of the closest possible description, the
two phenomena are absolutely unrelated to each other, and
their likeness is solely due to the common relationship in
which they stand to two groups of imaginative beliefs, which
are markedly alike. It is, however, as absurd to contend that
likeness of one particular fact in the Greek and Irish groups
necessarily involves direct relation as it would be to assert
that SL Brendan's isle was sought in the thirteenth and
fourteenth centuries A.D., because Sertorius had sought for
the Elysian isles in the first century ac.

This instance may seem to contradict what I said above as
to the absence of the earlier stages of the Happy Otherworld
conception among the Romans. But only apparently. For
Sertorius, as for the sailors of the fifteenth century, both
Greek and Irish accounts had lost their mythic character.
The Roman may have thought the Greeks had romanced,
his imagination and mystical temperament may have led him
on, but he certainly thought there was a solid basis of fact
in what poets and philosophers had fabled, So too Horace,
in the i6th Epode, evokes before the eyes of his countrymen,
plunged in the horrors of civil war, the antique Vision, and
urges them to seek a happy fate in the; Western main : 'AH
encircling Ocean awaits us ; the fields let us seek, the happy
Belds, the rich isles, where the unploughed earth yields Ceres
yearly, where the vine blossoms untouched by the knife . . .
honey flows from the hollow oak . . . unbid the goats
approach the milking pail, the placid ewe brings her richly
laden udder.' The Augustan poet expressly refers to the
Hesiodic account.

Again, the last poet of pagan Rome, in his poem on the]
Consulate of Stilicho, draws a picture the elements of whicbj
go back to the dawn of Greek utterance.

286 VIRGIL

' This said, be entered gardens strewed with dew,
A stream of flame around the valley flew ;
Large solar rays among the plants were spread,
On which the coursers of (he Sun are fed.
His brow the god of day with garlands graced,
And flowers o'er saffron reins and horses placed.'
(Claudian, Hawkins' 7'ranslaiion, ii. I

Vii^l, however, is the most authoritative exponent offl
beli^ of cultured Rome concerning the Otherworld, |
Vii^l, as recent investigation has conclusively' shown, is p
trated by the spirit of Orphic- Pythagorean hleraturci a
jEneis' descent into Hades does but reproduce, with I
added might of his genius, an Orphic Kara/SaiTK »'i 'AtSoK
And not only does the great Roman poet present the noUeit
fonn of pagan theological speculation in this domain, he bu
Ulcewise shown himself responsive to ihe Utopian, hDmaai-
tarian element in the Orphic doctrine, to that clement whicb,
mingling with and fertilised by the moral ardour of the Hebxew
prophets, had such a formative influence upon the Messianic
belief as systematised in Palestine and Alexandria during the
two centuries preceding the birth of ChrisL In the fourth
Eclogue he sings, the ' infant boy under whom the golden age
shall arise over all the world,' with truly Messianic fcrvoDr.
' Wickedness shall vanish, earth shall be released from dread.
To this wondrous boy earth shall pour forth everywhere, with-
out culture, flower and fruit ; the goats of their own will shall
bring home their milk-laden udders, nor shall the Hocks fear
great lions any more ; tlic servient shall be slain, and the
venom-plant perish. The fields shall yellow with ean of grain,
the vine shall blush upon (he bramble, much honey shall
ooie out of the oak. ... All lands shall produce all ihin^s^
The soil shall not suBcr from the hoirow, rtor the vine boat

the pruning-hook.' It is unnecessary to cite further so well-
knovn a passage, but we may note the poet's boast that if he
sing the deeds of this wondrous child, neither Thracian
Orpheus, nor Linos, shall surpass him in song, indicative as it a
is of the sources whence he drew his vision of the returning |
reign of Saturn.

We may now turn to his description of the realm of joy, the
mansions reserved for the blest, as they appear to /Eneas after
the hero has beheld the horrors of Tartarus. The :
lighter and more buoyant, the plains are bathed in purple light.
Of the blessed some ' exert their limbs on the grassy sward,
contend in sports and wrestle on the golden sands, some tread
the dance with measured step, and sing their songs of joy.
Orpheus, too, the Thracian priest, suits to their strains his
lyre's seven notes. . . . Others feast upon the grass and chant
in chorus to Apollo a joyful paean, in a fragrant grove of i
laurel.' Who are these blessed ones ? ' Those who received ■
wounds in defence of their fatherland ; priests of pure and I
holy life ; those blessed bards who sang verses worthy of Apollo's I
ear ; those who refined the life of man by wise invention, those
who made their memory sweet and loved by deeds of kind-
ness and of mercy.' The beatific vision is closed by a philo-
sophy of the universe, ^í^neas sees the troop of disembodied
spirits prepared, after a draught of Lethe, to return to earth.
He wonders at this mad desire for life, and Anchises instructs
him. He tells him of the mysterious force which pervades and
animates the Cosmos, of the spiritual principle defiled by its
association with the flesh, cleansed and purified in Hades,
freed from all taint in Elysium, returning after a completed i
cycle of a thousand years to animate a fresh body, and take J
part once more in the unending chain of life.

This sketch of the development of the Elysium conception 1

288 IRELAND AND CLASSIC LITERATURÍ

in classic pagan antiquity, concise though it be, is f ct sufRcicnt.
I think, to demonstrate that the elements of this conception,
common to Irish non-Christian and to classic Christian litera-
lute, are not necessarily derived by the former from the latter.
These elements re-appear in pre-Christian classic wrilinys, and
approve themselves part of the oldest stock of Greek mythic
legend. What is the bearing of these facts upon our invest!-
gation 7 Let us recollect that Ireland, unlike Gaul or Gei-
many or Britain, lies outside Roman influence unlit die third-
fourth centuries, and (hat when this influence does uianttcst
itself it is predominantly Christian. Let us assume for one
moment that the Irish of the fourth and fifth and sixth cen-
turies had no tales and traditions of the past, no vision of a
western marvel land, no imaginings of a god's d welling -fdocfe
What eould they have learned from their Christian instruction?
Such a vision of heaven, undoubtedly, as we find ascribed to
Adamnán, or to Kursa, and in especial such a vision of belt
But is there anything in Christian apocalyptic or hagiology
that could suggest Manannan's realm with its amorous daines,
the sid of Mider or Angus, homes of amorous deities, that
could call up the idea of a land, to which, nut ihosi; who have
done righteously in this hfe must repair afltr death, but which
a favoured mortal may occasionally reac^ without dying. Ii it
not evident now that reference to Christbn literature is wboHy
insuilicient to account for tlie Irish legends, the one fact wbicÁ
gave a certain plausibility lo the hypothesis, the preacncftd^
dements common to both, being explicable otherwise?

if this is so, and I cannot think any other cooclu
possible to an unprejudiced tn<iuirer, an important codcIhi
follows. If Christian lilcratuic cannot expkin Irish lc{
neither cin late classic literature. That which is
organised, ethically, socially and philosophically,

HELLENIC AND IRISH MYTH agg

originate that which is archaic in tone of manncTS, and de-
ficient in any religious or philosophic intent. Let me again
assume a mythological tabula rasa in third-sixth century Ire-
land. In what shape would Hellenic myth come to the Irish ?
In the shape it came to the Jews and Romans of the second
century B.C., or rather in the shape it assumed after contact
with Judaea and Rome. And as regards the conception of
the Otherworld, this, as we have seen, permeated by philo-
sophic and cthica! ideals, had become in its way as definitely
'religious' as the Christian belief. If any one writer of anti-
quity could have suggested to the Irish their vision of Elysium,
it would be Virgil, Virgit the most widely read, the most deeply
revered of all pagan poets. \W\\ it be maintained for one
moment, and by the most arrant paradox-monger, that the
Virgilian account could have originated in whole or part the
rich scries of mythic fancies set forth in chapters n. and vii.
of this work? Is tl not evident that the relationship of Irish and
Greek myth antedates not only the Christian transformation of
the latter, but that earlier transformation due to the systcmatised
spread of Orphic- Pythagorean doctrines, the result of which,
after a centuries-long evolution, was to substitute the Virgilian
for the Homeric Hades ?

Detailed comparison of the Irish with the earlier stages of
Greek legend amply bears out a conclusion derived from a
general survey of the latter. If we style these earlier stages
Homeric, we find that Ireland and Homeric Greece agree in
the following particulars : overlapping in the accounts of the
island Elysium, and of (he mountain home of the gods ; reser-
vation of Elysium to a few favoured mortals, relationship to or
caprice of a divinity being the cause of the privilege ; special
association of the i.sland Elysium with amorous goddesses ; in-
Eistence upon the fad that the favoured mortal does not die,

39°

HELLENIC AND IRISH MVTH

and upon deathlessness as the chief privilege of Elysii
absence of any ethical or philosophical ideal ; presentmentl
ihe life of the translated ones as a round of simple scnsiH
delights. In nearly al! these particulars the post-Honi
conception differs profoundly from that just sketched:
idea of Elysium is inseparably connected wiih death, and |
for its inevitable counterpart a hell; it is placed underg
in proximity to Tartarus, and is clearly distinguished f
Olympus ; it forms a necessary part of an ethical scheme J
Universe.

It is true that the older conception persisted tbroughoultl
entire range of classic literature, true also that, as regl
many details of the material equipment of the Hnppy (
world, there is little difference between Homeric a
Homeric Elysium. Texts which are marked by the lofti
ethical fervour, yet retain a singularly material view of the |l
reserved for the blessed. But after malting full allowance fl
these considerations, it still strikes one as extremely until
to put it at the lowest, that the Irish literature of the f
world should have its source in the analogous Greek lite
as it developed from the fourth century b.c onwanJs, e
in the modified forms it assumed after the contact of ^
Hellenic mind with East and West in the third-firM cenU
B.C., and the consequent creation of a common philosopi
religious syncretism, differing profoundly from the i
nature-ray t hology .

One special characteristic of the Irish Otherworld n
cited as exemplifying, in the strongest manner, the pnm
nature of the conception. Quatrain 4 1 of Bran's Voyage ^
a picture of the isknd Elysium from «bidi one gathers t]
must have resembled Hampstcad Heath on an Antvmn E
Holiday evening. The trait is not confined to Bnin'i Vo]

CLASSIC CHASTITY IDEAL

291

IlDlimited love-makiDg is one of the main constituents in all
the early Irish accounts of Olherworld happiness. At a later
stage of national development the stress laid upon this feature
puzzled and shocked. The author of Teigue, son of Cian, is
at pains to put a Platonic gloss upon Connla's passion.
Probably the first and most distinctive mark of Heaven that
would occur to a modern, is that there shall be neither marry-
ing nor giving in marriage there. But it would be a mistake
to regard this feeling as wholly due to Christianity. Alien to
Judaism (families of 1000 are among the supreme privileges
reserved for the blessed in the Book of Enoch), the absence
from Heaven of all that concerns the physical manifestation
of love is, like so much else in Christianity, of Greek origin.
The passage already quoted from Virgil (supra, p. 386), that
priests of chaste life go to Elysium, may perhaps be re-
garded as inconclusive, ritual celibacy being as much a feature
of certain anlitjue cults as of certain varieties of Christianity.
But Plautus, imitating the fourth-century Philemon, has the
following passage (TWn. 549 ei seq^ :

' Sicul fortunaiorum memorant insulas,

Quo cuncti qui aetatem egennt casie suam

Conveniant.'

Dietrich, who quotes this passage (/.f. 1 69), adds ' of course
those who did not order their lives Mste, went to the other
place.* This docs not to niy mind follow. Nevertheless, the
passage undoubtedly testifies to an ascetic element in the
Otherworld ideal. Consideration of the scheme of Greek
Otherworld punishments leads to the same conclusion ; sins
of the flesh play a large part in the scheme. Abstinence
from such sins, we may reasonably hold, was considered
meritorious, and the traits of self-control and freedom from
sensual longing singled out for approbation in this life, and

391

MANANNAN AND HELIOS

regarded as a claim upon happiness hereafter, would naturally
persist and be intensified in Elysium.

Finally, what may be called the formal mythological element
of the Irish account of the Otherworld, testifies to its kinship
with Homeric, to its ignorance of post-Homeric belief. In the
latter there is an elaborate underworld hierarchy, only wait-
ing the triumph of Christianity to leappear in the devil
hierarchy of Satan and his subordinates. There is no trace of
such a conception in the Irish accounts. Save in an episode
of Maelduin's Voyage, there is not even a distant allutiion to
that judicial function which, from the fourth century B.C.
onwards, would certainly have been cited by a Greek as the
distinguishing characteristic of the lords of the Otherworld.
And when we look a little closer we find that early Ireland and
early Greece both associate their western wonderland with a
chariot-driving and steed possessing god. True, this is the
sun-god among the Greeks, whereas Manannan is generally
held, and was certainly held at a comparatively early date in
Ireland itself, to be a god of the sea. It is, however, note-
worthy that in one story {BaiU an Scail), part of which has a
very archaic aspect, Lug, the Irish sun-god, is lord of the Other-
world ; noteworthy, that in numerous texts, some, it is true, of
later dale, as far as their present form is concerned. Lug is
described as Lord of the Fairy Cavalcade of the I^nd oí
Promise, and that throughout Irish romance relating lo t
Tuatha De Danann, there is clo.ie alliance between >
and Lug. It may be urged too that Manannan's Attribi
are vague, that, in spite of the general consensus of c^iq
which regards him as an Irish Poseidon, there is nothing in ^
stories told of him or of his Welsh parallel. Mannwyddan, t"
necessarily marks him as a sea divinity: Ot a^in, it m^fl
argued that, for reasons we cannot now dclen&inc, Lug, «In

MANANNAN AND HELIOS

»93 1

h
P

sun-god character is undoubted, has been replaced in bis 1
lordship over the western Wonderland by Manannan, But ]
indeed is it necessary to assume that different branches of the J
Aryan -speaking people assigned the lordship of their Elysium .1
to the same deity ? If Manannan was indeed regarded by the I
ancient Irish as a sea-god, and if he was from the outset lord '
of the island Elysium, it would simply show that historical
circumstances, the nature of which escapes us, effected
amongst the Irish a change in the myth, ior it cannot, I
think, be doubted that the sun-god and the myth of the sun-
god are the true source of all the fancied marvels of a happy
land, out of which he rises in the morning, and to which he
relurns at nightfall. Be this as it may, in his attributes and
characteristics Manannan is far more closely akin to ihe
Hellenic deity, whom the earliest stratum of mythology pictures
as pasturing his coursers in the isle of the Hesperides, than to
the Hellenic deity whom a late and highly organised mythology
represented as ruling over the eniire Hades, Tarrarus as well
as Elysium.

Without, 1 trust, in any way straining the evidence or over- I
looking points that might lead to a different result, a fairly '
strong case has been niaiie out for the following conclusions.
Christian influence upon the Irishaccount of the Happy Other-
world is slight and unessential ; features common to the Irish
and Christian account arc explicable by the fact that both
stand in a certain relationship to pre-Christian Greek belief;
the Christian account is the natural development of the later
and more highly organised stage of that belief after its modi-
fication by contact with the East, in this case the relationship
being one of derivation ; the Irish account is akin to the earlier,
more purely mythic stages of Greek bebef before the rise of_
particular ethical and philosophical doctrines.

»94

IRISH AND GREEK MYTHS

Should we regard this kinship as due to dependence of the
Irish upon the Hellenic account, or to possession by Irishmen
and Greeks of a common body of myihical beliefs and tancies?
Some light is thrown upon this question by the examination
of the mythic literature of three other races speaking a language
related both to Irish and Greek, and possessing mythologies
which at all events seem to be like that of Greece. One of
those races, the northernmost branch of the Teutons, was the
last of any Aryan -speaking people to record its mythology;
one, the Aryan invaders, at some perfectly undetermined date
(it may be 4000 or zooo or only 1000 years B.C.) of North
Western India, supplies us on the contrary with what the va»l
majority of scholars hold to be the earliest noled (1 do not say
the most primitive) record of Aryan mythic belief in ihc Rjg
and Atharva Vedas. Let ua then see what is thi
of the earliest and latest utterances of Aryan myth
the beliefs and fancies we have been investigating.'

' II will of COUISÍ he undicsiood thsi the Iwo forecoing chipten 1
a very «mall (wrtion of the illuilrative maleiliJ which could be a
fTom Pagan cliBsic and Cbriilian duúc literature bttween 800 Ilc Ú

CHAPTER Xll

SCANDINAVIAN, IRANIAN, AND INDIAN ACCOUNTS OF THE
HAPPY OTHERWORLD

Scandinavian mythical lileiature, date and refalion to Classic and Christian |
lilernlure — Prominence of eachalological element in ihc official mythology I
— VUions of the Happy Otherworld in later romanlic lileralure : Eric the
(ar-Imvelled ; Helge Tboresoa; Thotkill and Guthorm; Haddine—
Rydberg's theory of OrfaÍBjflíí^IraDÍan myth o[ Yima's grove— Inuiian
accounu of Pamdise and Heaven — Darmestetcr on dale and composiliiMi
of (he Avcsta — Vedic accounts — Poit-Vedic Indian roedixval accoonla —
Oldenbcrg on Ihe Indian hcavcn—Chrcinological view of the Happy
Otherworld conception in Ibe lileralure of the Aryan race ; problems
raised thereby ; necessity of studying the rdncartution conception before
concluding.

Scandinavian eschatology is known to us from texts pre-
served in Mss, of the thirteenth century ; some of these in
their present form (I allude notably lo the expository treatises
known as Gylfi's Beguiling and Bragi's Tales in the so-called ■
prose Edda) may possibly be little older than their date of I
transcription, whilst the poems upon which they are based,
and which have partly come down to us, are probably productSi
/« tAeir present form, of the eighth to eleventh centuries.
This eschatology is highly organised. The ideas of a heaven,
admission to which is a privilege granted by the deity who
figures as head of the Scandinavian pantheon, of a hell to
which offenders are doomed by the gods, of a final conflict
between the powers of good and ill succeeded by a new and

NORSE ESCHATOLOGY

glorified universe, are set forth with precistoa.
natural, therefore, that the critical spirit of our
hflve detected in these and in similar features of the E
mythology the influunce of classic antiquity, both Pagan A

Christian, as embodied in the literature of Greece and Roi

and in the later provincial Christian Latin literature. TliB
tendency to deny the archaic and popular character of the
Eddaic mythology reached its culminating point in Professor
Bugge's Studies on the Origin and Development of Uic
Northern God and Hero Tales.' The theory of the dependent
and imitative nature of Norse mythic-heroic literature wu
there urged with immense learning, but with a complete
of the true critical spirit, and with an extravagant exagger
which has caused it to fall bto almost complete ("'
None the less, however, was service done in pointing out tl
Norse mythology as preserved by the Eddas rcprHscntl B
comparatively laic and complex stage of mythic develo[
This much may be stated with a fair show of certainty : Uw
the stress of contact, and in competition with the 1
organised creeds (Pagan and Christian) of classic antiquitj, t
Northern Germans developed and systematiscd their own fail
In BO far as the eschatology is concerned the parallels i
rather with Pagan classic than with Christian classic com
tions. The Eddaic hell corresponds far more closely to U
earlier form of tlie Greek Tartarus, recoverable from lilc
of the fifth to second centuries B.C., than to the bter forms |
assumed after contact with Judaism and modification thra
Christianity j the Norse Asgaid and Walhalla arc, in i
of confident statements to the contrary, certainly not i
kin in the material economy and auimating spirit of I

> EnsHih tr«iuUtien of thi* work k In «xiiiena, btti ibete li
Ccnnan Mie hj Poestum, l(t>tl-ll9-

ERIK SAGA

297

conception to the Christian heaven than to the Olympus and
Elysium of pre-Christian Greece.

By the side of the elaborate eschatological myths which
constitute the chief beauty and the chiuf problem of Norse
mythology we find a number of stories concerning a marvel
land of delights and riches, which present many points of
contact with the Irish legends previously cited and discussed.
Rydberg, in his Teutonic Mythology (London, 1889), has
summarised and studied these stories, and it will be convenient
in the first place to give a. brief abstract of their contents.

Thk Erik Saga.'

Erik, son of a petty Norse king, one Christmas eve made a

vow to seek out Odainsakr. He betook himself first lo

Constantinople, and there, having become Christian, apprised

L the emperor of his vow. Believing tiiat Odainsakr must be

Icne with Paradise, the emperor declared it lay, encircled by a

(■fire wall, beyond the farthest bounds of India. Thither Erik

Tjoumeyed, and after a while came to a dark country of forest

J'lrhere the stars are seen all day long. On the other side

L river, crossed by a bridge guarded by a dragon.

flnlo the mouth of the monster rushed the hero and one of his

companions, and when they came to themselves unharmed

they saw before them a great plain lit up by the sun, and

Í covered with flowers. There flowed rivers of honey, the
air was still and fragrant. It was never dark there, and objects
cast no shadow. After a. while they came to a tower hung
in the air without foundations or pillars. A ladder gave
access to it, and within they found a room carpeted with
velvet, and on the table delicious food in silver dishes and
wine in golden goblets. The adventurers ate and drank and
' R)-dbcrg, 1.C, 20S-210.

198

HELGE THORESON

laid them down to rest. Whilst Erik slept there came to him
a beautiful lad, one of the guardian angtils of Paradise, who
was also Erik's guardian angel. It was Odainsakr or jíré
Uganda Manna (the earth of living men) to which he was
come, and not Paradise ; that was reserved for spirits alonc^
and was so glorious that in comparison with it Odaimair
would seem like a desert.

Thereafter Erik returned to Constantinople and later lo
Norway, where he was known as the far-travelled. ^m

The Story of Hclge Thoreson.' ■■

Helge, travelling to the far north on the coast of Finnurk,
got lost in a great forest. There he met twelve rcdMUad
maidens on horseback, and their horses' trappings shone like
gold. Chief of the maidens was Ingcborg, daughter of
Gudmund of the Glittering Plains. Hclgc, invited, stayed
three days with Ingelwrg, and on parting received two chettl
full of gold and silver. The next Yale night after his return to
his own land there came a great storm, during which two men
carried off Hclge no one knew whither, A year passed, And
at Yule Tide Helge came back, and with him two strainers
with gifts from Gudmund to King Olaf Tryggwason, two gold
plated horns. Olaf filled the horns with drink and gave than
to his bishop to bless, whereat Gudmund's messengers cast
the horns away, there was great noise and confusion, the Bre
was extinguished, and Helge ami his companions di^ppeared.
Again a year passed, and Hclge was brought back lo the kin^
blind. He had spent most happy da>'s in Gudmund's nalm,
but Olafs prayers had forced his host and low to let him

' Kyilbcrg, 311. Saxa Gnmnuiicui, Daniih History truud. I
etton, wlih IniTDdaclioo by F. Vock PowcIMUnitloft, 1S93], tavtIL' j

GORM, THORKILL, AND GUDMUND

depart. Before doing so, Ingeborg had blinded him, ths
Norway's daughters might not fall in love with his eyes.

The Story op Gorm, Trorkill, and Gudmund.'

King Gorm, having heard of a mysterious land owned byn
a King Geirrod, in which were many riches, resolved
upon seeking it out. He was told he must sail across the
ocean, leave the sun and stars behind, journey down into Chaos,
and, at last, pass into a land where no light was, Takinffi
with him Thorkill as guide he started in three ships. After ^
while, and suffering much hunger, they reached a land full ('
herds. Despite Thorkill's injunctions the sailors slew n
the beasts than they needed, and to appease the wrath of t
giant inhabitants, Gorm had to deliver up three of his
chosen by lot.- After a while Ihey came to Geirrod's
and were greeted by Cudmund, the king's brother, Thorkill
forbade his companions to speak, he alone conversing with the
folk of this land. They passed a river crossed by a bridge
of gold, access to which was denied them by Thorkill, and
arrived at Gudmund's hall. Again Thorkill warned his
comrades to abstain from food or drink, and to have no
contact with their hosts, likewise to keep their hands off the
servants and the cups of the people. Gudmund had twelve
sons and as many daughters, and when he saw that his guests
would not partake of his food he sought to sap their chastity
by offering them his daughters and the women of his house-
hold. All the travellers save four resisted, and these paid with

' Saxo, 344-35>- 3"<l Introduction, kix-luii. Rydberg, S13-214.

* Th« great Bimilority of certain epiiodes to analogous on» in the
Odyuey, will of course itrike many teaden, and Ihe possibility of
direct literaiy inHuetice must ilwayi b« borne in mind when conuderío^

xuch slúTÍes as ihese.

30O GORM, THORKILL, AND GUDMUND

their wits for the gratification of their lust. Gudmund than
extolled the delights of his garden, but Gorm, warned bf
Thorkill, refused lo accept his host's invitation to enter it.

The travellere then crossed the river, which led lo GcirrocTf
land, and entered a gloomy cavern of horrors, in which thef
found Geirrod and his daughter suffering from the puniab-
ment inflicted upon them hy Tbor.' In the cavern were also
seven butts hooped round with belts of gold, i-hc tusk of I
strange beast tipped at both ends with gold, a vast stag hom
decked with flashing gems, and a very heavy bracelcL
Gorm's men could not resist the temptation, but the treasure!
when sciied turned Into serpents and swords, and averted
themselves on the spoilers. In a further chamber were a
royal mantle, a liandsome hat and a belt marvellously ffrou^iL
Thorkill, struck with amazement, gave rein to his covctoosneu
and seized them, whereupon the whole cavern shook, the
inmates screamed out against them and assailed them ; all bat
twenty of the travellers were torn to pieces, and these would
not have escaped save for the skill of two archers, Jlrodcr «ad
Buchi. The survivors were ferried bock across the; river bjr
Gudmund, and again entertained by him, and here Buchi, one
of the two hero-brothers, to whom the travellers had owed
their escape from Geirrod's cavern, 'forsook the virtue in which
he hitherto rejoiced. For he conceived an incurable passion
for one of the daughters of Gudmund and embraced 1»«;
but be obtained a bride to his undoing, for &oon his bain
suddenly began to whirl, and he lost his recollection.' 'Fottbe
sake of respect he started to accompany the departing king,

' ThU itoiy It (all]' prewrved Iif Snorre in hii EiMb, u kIm hj the
(IcTcnth cectarr IceUixU*, Eitif GuilnuuBon, in bii Thon^pk
Knslish venioa of 1)Mb tctli mar b« (oudiI, Cfff i^ttitum A

H ADDING 301

but as he was about to ford the Kver in his carriage, his
wheels sank deep, he was caught up in the violent eddies and
destroyed.'

It was only after much fresh peril and suffering that Gorm
and Thorkill and a few of their men reached their own
country again.

I The Hadding Storv.'

Once as Hadding sat at supper, a woman bearing hemlocks
3 seen to raise her head beside the brazier, and, stretch-
ing out the lap of her robe, seemed to ask, ' in what part of
the world such fresh herbs are grown in winter?' The king
desired to know, and, wrapping him in her mantle, she drew
him with her underground. ' First they pierced through a
certain dark misty cloud, and then advancing along a road
worn with much thoroughfaring, they beheld certain men
wearing rich robes, and nobles clad in purple ; these passed,
they at last approached sunny rugions which produced the
herbs the woman had brought away.' They crossed a river
whirling down in its leaden waters divers sorts of missiles,
beyond which they beheld two armies encountering with
might and main ; these, Hadding is told, are they who, slain by
the sword, declare the manner of their death by a continual
rehearsal. Beyond, a wall hard to chmb blocked their further
progress. On the further side lay the I^nd of Life, for
Hadding's guide, wringing the neck of a cock she bore
I her, flung it over, and forthwith the bird came to life

Saoa mentions of Gudmumd's Land.

I The Hcrvarar saga mentions Gudmund and his home,

~ Tind, situated in the Glittering Plains, forming a district

■ Saxn, J7-3S, uul Inliodoction, IxviiL Kfdiicig, 315-116.

30Í

GUDMUND'S REALM

of Jotunheim. He was wise and mighty, and in a f
sense pious, says the Christian saga writer, and he and 1
men betiame so old that they lived many gew
Therefore the heathens believed thai Odainsakr
situated in his country. 'That place is so hcatlhy tor t
one who comes there, that sickness and age dcpait, 1
no one ever dies there,' Gudmund's land, Jotunheim
to the north, Gudmund died after living half a thot
years, and was worehipped by his people as a god. Gudi^
is also mentioned as the ruler of the Glittering Plains, a
a skilful magician in Herraud's and Bose's sags, whibt j
Thorsidn B.-Earmagn's saga, the Glittering Plains arc a I
subject to Jotunheim, which is ruled over by Gcinod.'

These traditions concerning a mysterious land full of n
and delights arc, as will have been noticed, far more s
inlluenced by Christian belief than the corresponding ',
tales. They are also considerably later in the date of tl
transcription. Saxo's stones of Gorm and Tborkill, i
Hadding, were noted by him towards the close of the V
century ; the story of Helge Thoreson was incor|joraied iai
long life of Olaf Tryggwason in the late thitteenlh or t
fourteenth century ; the story of Far-uavcllcd Eric t
probability later still in its present form ; the \'arious I
which casually allude (o Gudmund and his rt^m ore «
of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. But it i
remembered that Christianity only won full acceptance ii
North in the eleventh century, so that an Icelandic aci
the twelfth or thincentli centuries slnnds, rctatiTdyJ
Christianity, as docs an Irish account of tlie sixth or st
century. I'he Scandinatian presentment of the pa^pn r
' Tbn* rrfttcnco «io iitim K]Fill>eis, jio-al i, «sd Prof. Vo«\ P
InUodavlloD 10 Sxta, I<v' <* ittf.

NORSE AND IRISH ROMANCE 303

ology and heroic saga of the North, due as it mainly is to
two Christian clerics, the Dane, Saxo Graramaticus in the
twelfth, and the Icelander, Snorre Sturlason (the compiler
of the prose Edda) in the thirteenth century, may thus give
us some idea of the shape Irish myth and saga would have
assumed wt-re it preserved to us in a sixth or seventh century
version, instead of in a fragmentary gathering up of older
material duu to the compilers and transcribers of the post-
Viking period. It is conceivable that, as in the case of
Scandinavian myth, the account would be more detailed and
pragmatic, whilst at the same time the antagonism between
the old and new faiths might be more strongly insisted upon.
As it is, Irish mythology is in the same position Norse
mythology would be if Snorre's works had only survived in such
fragments as it suited men of the sixteenth or seventeenth
centuries to work into their reconstructions of the past.

Comparison with Ibish Romance,

In spite of the insistent Christian influence, the pagan
roundwork of the traditions summarised in the foregoing
pages is evident, as is abundantly demonstrated by Rydberg
;omment upon them. Comparison with analogous
lliish tales raises interesting questions. The Scandinavian
Stories stand, it is at once seen, in a clear relation to the
" official mythology. Jotunheim, the land of Gudmund and
Grirrod, Gudmund and Geirrod themselves, are all known
to us from some of the most archaic of the mythological texts,
and are brought into definite contact with the Asgard gods,
although in the laler traditions, as also in the older mythic texts,
this cycle of conceptions ties outside, where it is not explicitly
^^^^posed to, that which has its centre in Asgard. In Ireland,

304 NORSE AND IRISH ROMANCE

in so far as we can work back at all to an organised
mythology, we find Ihe wonderland associated «ith the kin
of the gods, whether it be assigned to Manannan as in the
Oversea type, to Lug, to Midir, or to Angus, as in thu Hollow
Hill type. In Scandinavia, on the other hand, it is associate]
with beings alien from and, in so far as the Tartarus clement
is concerned, hostile to the god clan. In Ireland, there Is not
a single trace of a Tartarus counterpart to the Elysium ; in
Scandinavia, Gudmund's realm (Elysium) is closely connected
with Geirrod's realm (Tartarus), the whole forming a Hades
akin to the later classic account of the undcrworid. These
fundamental differences seem to me to bar the theory that the
Scandinavian account, as found in texts of the twelfth i
fourteenth centuries, owes anything to the Irish i
found in texts of the eighth to eleventh centuries. Conn
one must, I think, put aside the idea that the gods' I
pictured In the Wooing of Etain or in Bran presupposes si
mythological system as we find in Scandinavia. But I a
no means certain that the Norse Journey to the Olhei
which, to judge it from its earhcst and most archaic fn
Sato's story of the visit of Gorm and Thorkill to Gudmtmd ri
Geiirod, comprised a Tartarus as well as an Elysium a
has not sporadically Influenced Irish romance. 1 allude n
particularly to certain episodes in Maelduin, notably the TÍ
to the deserted island-palace, guarded by the silent cgt «i
s the theft committed by one of the intruder», and ■

B incident of the Isles of Imitation, as they may be c
e two of Maelduin's companions arc left behind (n

uptcr tv.). As I have already stated, the texture of t
Maelduin story is so loose that we lack irusiwocthy t
for distinguishing interpolations, whether these are the i
of ddibcratc addition to the ori^nal version or a

ODAINSAKR

30s

contamination of varying forms of the same incident. Thus
whilst nothing forbids the hypothesis of influence exercised
during the late ninth or tenth century upon the Irish Other-
world voyage narratives by corresponding Scandinavian stories,
there is no definite argument to be urged in its favour, beyond
this fact that the incidents of the theft of Otherworld treasures
followed by the punishment of the thief, and the abandonment
of a comrade consequent upon his yielding to Otherworld
allurements, form part of a logical sequence of events in the
Thorkill-Gudmund saga instead of being, as in the Irish stories,
disconnected episodes. I can here only state the interesting
problem involved, and must leave its solution to others, but
may note that the point is an important one, both for Celtic
and Norse literature. For if the surmised influence is a
reality, a considerably later date, say the middle of the tenth
century, must be assigned to certain portions of Maelduin's
Voyage as well as to the Isle of Joy episode in Bran's Voyage,
whilst a ninth-century warrant is obtained for Scandinavian
Stories now known to us only from twelfth century and later
L versions.!

' Odainsakb in Norse Mythologv.

Of far more moment is the relation of the Scandinavian
accountsof Orfaiíiíffíír and the journeys thither with the mythical
system vouched for by the mythological poems, the Skaldic
Kennings and Snorre's thirteenth-century exposition (in the
piose Edda) based upon these and other authorities now losL
Practically, the only scholar who has investigated this question
is Viktor Rydberg. The brilliant ingenuity, the subtle insight,
the capacity for divining and sympathising with the mythopoetc
' 0[ cauisc the possible inHucncc of ihp Odf ssey hinted al, sufira 199,
would Iikewi;>e account for Ihc Maeliluin episode.

3o6

ODAINSAKR

faculty displayed throughout his work, render it one of |l
most fascinating in the whole range of mythological i
But in dealing with his reconstructions of Norse mytholog|f j
is always doubtful if we have before us what tlie Teut
theologian-fwcts really believed, ot what a man of {
familiar with the results of nineteenth century research t
they must have believed. With this preliminary cauiioúl
proceed to briefly state his theory.'

The Volospa summarises the history of the Universe in Ihi
terms of Norse mythologj-. It describes the creation of the
material universe, the creation of man, the strife among the
god clans with its consequent train of moral and physical ills,
culminating in the &nal disappearance of the present order
divine as well as human, to make way for a brighter and
lietter world. But where were the inhabitants of tliis world 10
come from ? The survival of pan of the kin of the gods is
expressly provided for. How about man ? The existing race
is ex kypelkesi corrupt and unfit to inhabit the new universe.
Provision is therefore made for the seclusion of a huruan pair,
Of and Leifihraser, before the human race has suffered cor-
ruption, in a land into which death cannot enter, a land free
from all ills, from which, after the final catastrophe which is to
overwhelm both Asgard and Midgard, i.t. the existing polities
both of gods and men, they are to issue and repeoplc the Uni-
verse. This land is OdainsaAr, the acre of the not ácaá,jiint
lijanda manna, the eanh of living men. It is guarded by the
seven sons of Mimer, the giant smiths who fashioned the
primc>al weapons and ornaments ; these, sunk in a docp sleeps
which shall last until the Dusk of the gods, wbcn tiiej' awike
t» take their porx in the final conflict between the powers of
good and evil, and to ensure the existence of Odaintakr, RSt
' KydlvrG, Section* SO-Ju.

ODAINSAKR

307

in a hall wherein are preserved a number of products of theil
skill as smiths, as also Heimdall's horn, the blast of which is
to summon the gods and their allies against the impious kin
of Lold. The mortals who have penetrated thither and sought
to carry off these objects, necessary in the final conflict, or to
waken the sleepers before the destined time when, Asgaid and
its inmates having disappeared, upon them alone rests the
hope of a rejuvenated world, these mortals are punished by
death or dire disease. When Christianity supplanted the
Asgard religion, Mimer, lord of the grove where dwell Lif and
Leifthraser nourished upon morning dew, suffered the same
change as did so many of the deities of classic paganism.
From being a wholly beneficent being, he lakes on a half
demoniac naiure, and, as Gudmund of the Glittering Plains,
comes before us in later sagas profoundly modified in their
passage through the minds of Christian writers, wearing a
strangely enigmatic aspect.

Rydberg's reconstruction of this, as he deems it one of the
essential elements of the mythology, derives its chief support
from comparison with an Iranian myth found in the Avesta.
Before pwssing on to the consideration of this and other ex-
pressions of the Happy Otherworld conception in Iranian
mythic literature, it may be well to briefly note the resemblances
and differences between the Irish and Scandinavian accounts
of the wonderland apart from any hypothetical mythological
significance attached to the latter. It is less essentially in
Scandinavia than in Ireland, the Land of Heart's Desire ; even
in the stor)' of Eric ihc traveller it is disparaged by comparison
with the Christian paradise, whilst in the other stories its
proximity to the Northern Tartarus and the uncanny semi-
demoniac nature of its inmates, are far more prominent features
ire the joys and delights of theii realm. Again, whilst

3o8

NORSE AND IRISH MYTH

many Irish stories the Otherworld is differentiated from t
by the fact that the wanderer who returns thence at once fl
subject to mortality and deciiy, in Scandinavia death and I
ease are his portion who partakes of the food or accepts i
love offered by its denizens. In this respect the T
account differs not only from the Scandinavian and 1
Creek, but also with current folk-belief both of the backi
classes amotig the civilised races and of a number
uncivilised races. Current folk-belief in Ireland is as stnmg
as elsewhere against partaking of fairy food or joining in faiiy
revels, and yel, as we see, Irish mythic literature is full of the
delight of Faery. This instance may be commended to tliose
who look upon folk-belief »s wholly a product of literature
The geographical relations of the two worlds differ great]/
in Ireland and Scandinavia ; in the former the Otherworld
is definitely placed in the realm of the setting sun, or vaguely
located within the hollow hill ; in the latter a systenuUised
eschatology has left Its mark upon the accounts of Gudmuitd's
land ; it is as much a part of the Underworld as the post
fifth-century Greek Elysium ts a part of Hades, and to obtain
access to it the mortal has to travel northwards. Scandinavian
legend does not insist, as docs Irish, upon the amorous naiinv
of the Otherworld inhabitants; Its princes do not come wooing
mortal maidens, its ladies are not fain of mortal lovers. True,
this element Is not altogether lacking in Scandinavian mythic
sago, but it has assumed a different aspect, and manifciits ttMU
at a different stage of m)'tbic development In the stories of
Helgc Tborcson or of Thorkill. Gudmund's daughters lack the
independence, the initiation, the sense of jtersonal freedom
and dignity displayed by Fann, or the damsels who attk out
Bran and Conn la.
In all these respects the Scandinavian stories appraaónulc

IRANIAN MYTH

309

more closely lo the later, the Irish to the earlier, aspects of
Greek mythology. The idea! of a god's land, untouched by
ethical speculation, standing in no moral relation to the world
of men, lias been transformed in Scandinavia to meet the j
requirements of a highly developed mythological system,
original signification has been further obscured, thanks to the I
fact that the stories in which it found expression have suffered I
the alien influence of Christianity. Nevertheless, the primitive I
elements persist to a larger extent than might have been J
expected. The land is still one of simple sensuous joys, '
inhabitants arc still eager to welcome and retain mortal I
visitors.

Iranian Mythic Literature.
The Iranian mythology to which Rydberg has appealed for |
conformation of tlie myth concerning the future inhabitants of I
the world, and their present existence in a land of delights I
where death may not enter, is, as found in the Avesta, in a more I
advanced stage of development than the Eddaic' Whether 1
on llie cosmological or the eschatological side, it is as highly
organised as the Hellenic mythology. The cosmology, as is
well known, is extremely elaborate. The creative impulse
works through the medium of many subordinale powers.
Among the beings who play a necessary part in the scheme
of things, is Yima, a glorified Adam, conceived of not only as
the first man to whom Ahura Mazda revealed his taw, but as .
an abiding representative and guide of humanity. The second J
fargad of the Vendidad tells how Ahura Mazda confided I
humanity to the care of Yima.* 'Multiply my creatures, causal

' All qaotalions from the Avesta >rc from Lc Zend-Avesta, iriuluctÍHil
Douvetle >vcc commenliiie hislorique ei philolngiqne, par JameB Osr>r
nunteter. 3 vol*. PatJi, 1S92-93.

Avcita, ii. 16 cl itq. Cf. Rydbeig, sect 54.

3IO

YIMA'S REALM

them to grow, have charge of them, nile them, mtch (
them.' Yima accepts and answers: 'In my realm I
shall be neither cold wind nor hot wind, neither sickness I
death.' In (olcen of his empire Ahura Ma/.da gave Y
golden seal and a gold-incnisted sword. Time passes, i
thrice Yima has to enlarge the habitable earth to make I
for the increase of human and animal life. Aiicr 900 )
Ahura Mazda warns Yima that an evil winler, a hard i
frost, shall come upon the material world. The animal 1
is to take refuge in underground shelter. Yima is to consO
an enclosure some two miles square, and to transport thither «
the largest, fairest and best of cattle, small and large, of a
of dogs, of birds, of red and blazing fires, also of plants I
fruits, and there they shall remain. ■ And there shall be tl
no crooked person or hunchback, no impotent or lawl
man, no wicked or deceitful, no envious or jealous i
nor any man with ill-formed teeth, or any leper, or t
with any of the signs which Angra Mainyu (AhrimAn) J
on mortals.' Yima did as he was bid, and in that encloi
the one thing lacking was the sight of stars and moon and M
and a year passed as a day.' Every 40 years there i

' Thii a the only insiance to my knowledge in which ■ niiotittl I
pretatloD u luegcsted nf Ihal lujxmituia) Ii|iie of lime wh'ch b
a chuacleilslic of the Olhenvorld. llie |irD|{rcM uf time U Endlaltd
the counc of ihc tun. Bui it ihc laa it onl^ seen onoc ■ fan then a you
is » day. U vre w«re to ada|il the oinnion of ceniin tclioliiti thai the
TBtionnl and eohcrvnl pteceilet llie irrational and incolictEnI, and that all
ciatn|ilei of a mental conception are traceable Imk t<>
then it \s evident that all instnnca of the >u|'<ii.
Faery, which at a rule are preienled without an.
are derived from thiiAvettic mylh. It ii occnM< .
reduce to atMuidiiy a theory which «1 lint bliuh 1 .
tdf-evident to many pctMttu.

YIMA'S REALM

3"!

ofispring to each couple, human or animal. ' And in Yima'a i
enclosure men led the fairest of lives.'

In this remarkab!e_^r^aii', Vima seems identified with two
distinct realms free from death and other earthly ills, (i) a
paradisaical re^on, Eran Vej, at the beginning of human
history, (a) the enclosure in which are preserved specimens of
animals during the hard killing frost which would otherwise
destroy life. The first is apparently that alluded to
passage in Ram YashO Yima invokes Vajush, the heavenly
breeze : ' grant me this boon Vajush to become the most •
brilliant of men born into the world — under my reign to free
men and cattle from death, plants and waters from drought,
so that food may never fail the devouring toolh. And in
Yima's reign there was neither heat nor cold, neither old age
nor death, nor envy, the work of demons.' The Miiiukkird, a
medieval catechism of the legends and morals of the Avesta
religion, also describes this paradisaical region, 'Ahura
Mazda created Eran Vej, best of lands and regions. It has
this excellence, that in it men live to 300, cattle to igo years ;
there is httie suffering there or disease ; men do not lie there
nor do they yield to grief. The demon of want does not rule
their bodies, and ten men are satisfied with one loaf. Every
forty years there is bom a child to a man and woman . . .

■ Rydberg, 25S. Avesia, ii. 5S4.

'' ThtsMaUhuiinnlriiilU rcmiuknble.becaiiseinany AvesticleitiRttRCh |
the iitmoBl importance lo numerous oflspring. Cf. Fargsd 4 of ihe Yen-
didad with ils stiong anti-ascelic bias (Avesla, ii. 61). There would |
seem to be here traces of an alien ascelic piÍDCiple, eilhcr Buddhist o
Chmtian, which has likewise sflecled the slory of Vimn's enclosDie. |
Kohut in Ihe article cited, infra 315, surmises Jewú^h influence. Tl
yean is, he thinks, taken from the Genesis account of llic GnnJen of {
Eden. Against which il may tw ni^d that orily after their eipidsioD
(torn (be Garden of Eden are children bom to Adam and Eve.

3>3

AVESTIC HEAVEN

When they die they are blessed (i.e. go to heaven).'
Darmesteter, from whom I quote this passage, holds tliai tt it
imitated from the Vendidad's account of Yima's enclosure.'
The Minokhird knows this likewise, and states that sAkx the
'conflagration of the world and in the beginning of the
regeneration, the garden which Yima made shall open its gates,
and thence men, animals and plants shall once more fill tbe
devastated world.'^ A very similar account is furnished by
another mediaeval {i.e. eighth or ninth century text) tbe
Bundahesh, ' there shall come a terrible rain during three years,
with cold winters and hot summers, causing snow and hmil 10
fall without ceasing; men, no longer having the resource of
fíre^ shall all perish. Then the human race shall be re-
constituted in Yima's enclosure^ and for that reason tns it
made in a secret place.'*

This cosmological Elysium is clearly distinguished in the
Avestic texts from the eschatological one, or from heaven.
Fargad 19 of the Vendidad describes what takes place
after death, and how the righteous come to Gsroimam, the
dwelhng- place of Ahura Mazda. 'I hall thee,' ny>
Zaxathustra, ' Paradise of Saints, gleaming, blessed.''

Thus the mythic literature of tbe Aryan inhabitants of
Persia know of three blessed regions — the dwelling-place of
humanity at the beginning of time or the Iranian counterpart
of the Hesiodic golden age ; Yima's enclosure in which life ii
stored up during a catastrophe which would otiierwise d
it, the Iranian counterpart, according to Kydbcrg of (
Scandinavian Odaiiuakr in which Lif and Leifthrascr i
Ragnarok and the destruction of the existing order of tl
and a heaven to which the righteous go aflci death.
' Aretlo, ii 3a
' Quotcil Av«*U, ii. 19^

DATE OF THE AVESTA 313

What is the age of these conceptions and in what relation
do lliey stand to analogous conceptions among the Aryan and
non- Aryan peoples of antiquity? The latest editor of the
Avesta, the distinguished French scholar M. Dannesteter,
whose premature death has been such a cruel loss to science,
has proved, beyond, I think, all possibility of doubt, that the
I Avesta assumed its present form at a comparatively modern
I date, in the first and second centuries of our era. It is the
I product of a revival of the old national rclÍf,'ion after a period
' of echpse, consequent upon the conquest of Alexander, the
subsequent rule of Greek princes, and the domination of Greek
ideas. The late date assigned to the compilation and canoni-
fication of the Avestic text, justifies a priori hypotheses of
possible foreign influence both Greek and Jewish. M. Darm-
ÉSteler boldly translates, first, possibility into probability, and
then, probability into certainty. For him the elaborate cosmo-
logy of the Avesta is largely a reflex of Neo- Platonic speculation,
the economy of the Avesta is modelled upon that of the

t Hebrew Sacred Books, Iranian mytbico-religious history has
been influenced by that of the Jews. Thus the myth of
Yima's enclosure is a loan from the Jewish account of the
Noachian deluge. Presumptuous as it may seem to differ
from a scholar of M. Darmestetcr's eminence, I must avow my
disbelief in these conclusions. The arguments upon which he

t relies to prove Neo-Platonic influence, impress me as carrying
very httle weight, and as vitiated by their neg!c-ct to inquire
the source of Neo-PIatonic and Platonic speculation.' The
' A teccnl sluily of Aveslic teligion may be cited in ihU connection ; L'ítnt
feligicux lie la Grfceet lic rOricntau «Ucle d'AlfxanJre. SecoDit mfuiojie
—Let regiona syro-babyloniennes et I'Eran. Par F. Robiou. Paris, iBgj-
M. Robiou't memoir wiu wiittcD before the publiution of Darmestetei'ii ,
thich he odIv alludes briefly in an appendix, ll ii into

3'4

DARMESTETER ON AVESTA

paralleUsm between the Iranian and Jewish stories t
humanity was almost entirely destroyed and afterwardil
stituted, is not only to my mind very slight, but the I
narrative seems to me to belong to an earlier, less ai ~

Ulg

a note faow the same facU lend IhemseWes to

elusions. M. Robion, like M. Danneslelei, msiniuiu Ihe complexitj awl
incoosisiencj of the eiuiiog Aveiti, but expUiot ii ■■ ihe renilt of tbc
gradual liansfonnation of bd aiiginallj pure nionalbeiatic creed into a
nominal dualitm and practical polytheism, wbiUl M. Daimcstelct
woald rather, I fancy, describe the process as the tianrfbimation, uodar
the influence of alien philosophical doctrioii, of a primitive nalutaliiik
creed, such as we meet with in the V'edas, into a crosi between dualian
•nd paothciim. M. Darmesteier rithtly, a.s ii lecms to me, picks out m
really the oldest elements in the Aveslic literature much thai U. RabÍM
regarili ai comparatively speaking modem corruptions. M. RobicNi 1^
of coarse, entitled to point out that these elements Ho occiu in tbow
pattioD* of the ATealic collection irhich aie, at rt^tds lanfuage and
faim, the latest. We are, in ^I, once more in presence of tli« <M
qaotion— does the date of record ncccsurily give a clew to Ibe dale
oTorigiti?

In addition to the reason given in the text for dissenting bom H.
Damesieter'i iheory of the late composition of the Avaiic tcxti (■■ dn-
linguiibcd from thdr collection and canoniiicatian) I would point oat thai
it is admitted by all scholars, M. Darmalcter u well u olhen, that tlic
Galhas or hymns prrsertrd in the Vuna, of Liturgy, are the earllat
portion ot the Avesia- They are written in a language which, on U.
Oannesletei's own admission, must liave l«en otniitete for ihrte or tem
centDriei U the date he lusigni to Ihni cnmjioaitlun (finl ccnluif B.C.).
He claims, however, Ihal this langnsee bad been preaerved as a taend
idlotii. We have, of conise, plenty ot example* of the [vcmraiiofi of*
dead language for purposes of religion — Vedic Sanskrit, Hebrew. Lolin,
diurch Slavonic are all cam in point. Bot In each ctw tli* lanfnaer
has heed preserved itcauit ii is that of the iscied wiitines. Nonv M.
DarmeMelei's hypothesis asaumcs either, that at the date wben acootdfa^
to him the Calbai were compoaed, the tviier Iranian ucred wtilinfi LmI
I £iappcarcd, or etac, that if still cxisleni, they *o ht hiM to aannr 10

DARMESTETER ON AVESTA

3'S

Btage of religious imagination.' M. Darmasteter has in fact
not convinced me that, late as the Avesta may have assumed
;it3 present shape, it does not contain a deal of archaic mythical
speculation in a relatively pure form. But however far back
we feel disposed to carry portions of the Iranian mythology,
preserved to us in a form contemporaneous with the earliest
stratum of Christian literature, there is no reason for assuming
ihem to be older than the Greek accounts found in the epic
and didactic literature associated with the names of Homer and
Hesiod. The most archaic elements of theAvestic faith were,
however, from the first recognised as closely akin to those of
the Sanskrit-speaking Ar)an invaders of North-West India. ,

the religious requirements of Ihe revival that it was necessary to replace
them b/someltungofi markedly different character— our present GmhM.
1» ii then Kt all likely that these would have been wriiien in wliat wa»
practically a deatl language? I do ilot feel competent to expren a
decided opinion on such a subject.

' The dependence of the Aveslic myth upon Genesis hu been elabor-
ately worked oul by Ihe late Kev. Dr. A. Kohut in his article entitled :
'The Zendavesin and Ihe first eleven chapters at Genesis' (Jewish
Quarterly Review, April, 1S90). I have read this carefully, but remain
unconvinced. Kohut brings into strong proniinence ihe feaiures commori
10 both stories — an easy task — but entirety neglects either to enumerate
ibe points of difference or to explain how these arose. Now in comparing
two Elories it is much more important to see where they differ than where
tbey resemble each other, and if a real connection is established bclween
them, it ii most important to explain why they differ. Ex hyjielheri the
rational, siraighlforwaid, historical record of the Jewish writings was
turned inlo an obscure, incoherent and strongly mythical narrative at a
time when Ihe Avesta worshippers were transforming their naliona]
creed under the influence of Ihe advanced philosophical speculation of
(he Greeks and of the advanced theological and ethical speculation of Ihe
Jews. That under the circumstances the story of VÍma's grove should be
the outcome of imitation of the Noochian deluge seems to me incredible
n the last degree;

3i6

VEDIC MYTH

Consideralion of what Sanskrit mythic literature says C(
ing our theme may supply some more definite com
respecting the date of the Aveslic myths. But, first a
to the hypothetical parallelism of Iranian and Scandinavian
mythology. Assuming for a moment the correctness of Ryd-
berg's reconstruction of the Scandinavian myth of OáainsaJtr,
there is nothing, historically and geographically, tlial need
surprise in a closer kinship of Teutonic and Iranian, than of
Teutonic and Hellenic myth, provided we assume a compan-
lively recent date for the Aryan conquest of Iran, and a
siderable eastward and south-eastward extension of the
from their Baltic home.

VEDIC MvTHICAL LlTERATURK.

If we turn to the race which, in language and strue
the mythology, is most nearly kin to the adherents
Avestic creed — the Sanskrit-speaking settlers in the
to whom the Vcdic hymns are commonly ascribed, w^i
ourselves necessarily carried back to an earlier period IB
world's history than is the case with the Iranianx. For,
the Iranian unity, the earliest term of comparison available for
dating the Avestic documents linguistically is supplied by the
old-Persian inscriptions set up by Darius in the sixth century
n.c Scholars are generally agreed that the oldest portions of
the Avesta are, in ))oint o( language, of equal aiiliiiuily, and
we have seen that Damiesteler, who places the cum/^n'tion at
these portions in the first ccniuiy n.c, ha< lo assume the
cunlinucd ocistencc of a «acred language But beyond tfao
sixth century B.c we cannot carry llie Avestic texb save
: and conjecture. In India, on the other '

VEDIC MYTH

3'7

I century witnessed the birth of Buddha and the great
iligious revolution due to his preaching. This, however,
mly presupposes a highly organised form of Brahmanism
inst which Buddha's teaching was directed, but also that
had been in existence a sufficient length of time to
cite the discontent which culminated in the revolt of
fiuddhism, and in the numerous religious and philosophical
movements which facilitated or competed with the work of
Buddha- Brahmanism, again, is held to be but the last term of
a lengthy religious evolution, the stages of which can be traced
from the oldest pioTtions of the Rig Veda, through the younger
hymns of the same collections, through the liturgical petrifac-
tion of the Vedic creed in the Yajur Vedas, through the
formal syslematisation of the doctrines in the Bralimanas, and
the elaboration of the metaphysical elements in the Upanishads.
Scholars differ as to the lapse of lime required for this evolu-
tion. L v. SchriJder postulates a thousand years back from
the sixth century u-c and thus reaches a dale al circa 1500
B.C. for the older portions of the Rig Veda. Whitney would
allow a further 400 to 500 years ; the latest investigator,
Oldenberg, only commits himself to the statement that the
Vedic Indians were settled in the Punjab about laoo to 1000
B.C., and that the oldest parts of their literature belong to this
1 period.'

The validity of this kind of reasoning may be admitted in
t so far as Vedic literature en bloc is concerned, but it would be
[ unsafe to rely upon it when we essay to critically discriminate
I Úie various strata of that Utemture. Material external evid-
I'cnce is altogether lacking. By this I mean that we possess no
I US. which approaches even within 2000 years tlie date at which
■ the Rig Veda hymns were collected in their present form.
' H. 01dent>eiK, Die Relieion d« Veda, Bcriin. 1894.

3"8

VEDIC LITERATURE

We do not even knovf whether for centuries after that •
what it may, the preservation of this literature wi
or whether it was committed to writing. The very date i
introduction of Yfriting into India is uncertain in the extreme.
For the last twenty centuries at least Vcdic Sanskrit has been a
learned, dead language, yet the entire mass, gigantic in extent aa
it is, of Vedic literature continues to be committed to memory
with a minute accuracy that would Ije incrcdililc were it not
abundantly attested. Was it so in the past, and were the
Brahmins as insistent then as now upon retaining every jot
and tittle of the sacred text ? Possibly it was so, but we can-
not be sure. I^t me put a parallel case. Suppose the oldest
M5S. of the Christian Scriptures dated from the last centuiy,
that we had no means of deciding whether the text contained
in those mss. had been preserved orally or was based, in some
unknown way, upon earlier wss. ; suppose moreover, that, not
the Scriptures alone, but the entire mass of Christian literature
unce Christ was in the same case, that every precise chroniy
logical indication we now possess concerning the authors of
this literature was lacking, that we had no annalisiic schemes,
no general or local chronicles to assist us, that we had f^. to
decide the date of the Latin writings of, say Augustine,
Abclard, Calvin, and the blest Jesuit professor at Rome or
Maynooth, st>!e/y by considerations derived from the nature of
the language and the character of the dogmas. Could
we imagine a satisfactory history of Christianity, if such were
the conditions under which investigators of its past had to
work?

Speaking as a layman, I do not think the hypothetical case
at all exaggerates the difficulties involved in the crittcism oí
Indian literature, and tn especial of its older portions. We
can only guess at (he lapse of time required for changes in I '

VEDIC LITERATURE

319

language, for modifications of doctrine, for the budding, blos-
soming and decay of new religious and philosophical move-
ments. We know nothing concerning the possible contempor-
aneous existence, in diiferent parts of prehistoric India, of
different stages of the national idiom, of different schools of
religious and philosophic thought. We must be content with
plausible hypotheses, and, for the present at least, to forego
positive assurance based upon material evidence. One thing
alone is certain. Buddhism starts in the sixth century b.c. and
Vedic texts of some sort must be considerably older.

I purpose citing from Vedic literature, as preserved, passages
relating to the Happy Otherworld. I may say at once that in
the preceding passage I by no means intend to cast any doubt
upon the authenticity of that literature as a whole. But it is
precisely texts containing conceptions of this character — con-
ceptions, that is, simple it may be and rude in their origin,
but forming at a later date integral elements of a higlily
developed llieological system— that are most susceptible of
modification, whether it take the form of suppression or
addition.

To cite an instance ; modem criticism is unanimous in re-
cognising that the account of Ulysses' descent into Hades is a
composite document exhibiting traces of markedly distinct
stages in the evolution of the doctrines concerning life after
death. But if this doctrine had not continued to occupy and
fascinate the Greek imagination there would have been no
reason for modifying the original Homeric account. On the
other hand, modern analysis is necessarily largely subjective,
and the discrimination of earlier and later elements is
based upon h)'potheses concerning the evolution of Greek
religion, a question as to which each scholar has bis own
opinion. It is well then to bear in mind that we can never be

3»o

VEDIC HEAVEN

absolutely sure that any particular passage of the V
has come down to us in its original form, however t
we may be of um archaic nature of the hymns as a who!

With this eavtaf \ proceed to by before the reader \
chiefly taken from Oldenbergs admirable account <
religion.

In the ninth book of the RÍg Veda, the sacribcer tl
vokcs the divine plant Soma :

'Where ii uncreated light, therein are placed world a

thiihfr bear ine Soma, where is the never-ending «

deathlessaess.
Where Vivasant's son {Lt. Yama) is king, in the finn «

Heaven, where running waters arc, there let me be
\Vbere one moves at will, in ihe threefold firmament, in

fold heaven of heavens, where the wtnlds of light

lei me be never dying.

Where desire and fíillilmeni (are one) in the red spaces of hi
where the tjhosily food is, there let roe be imroortaL

Where joy and dcltghl, pleasure and satisfaction a
desire's desires arc fulgned, there let me be never dyi

This remarkable hymn, foimd in a collection asc
scholars to various dates between the years looo and i <
pictures it will be seen a ' heaven,' sn abode of bB;
man enjoys immortal life by favour of divine Iicing, as a n
for certain conduct, in tlti^t cue due porfomuncc of tl
fic«. The lord of this heaven is Yama, whom a p
tenth book of the Rig Veda describes a> 'carounng «
gods bcacath the sliade of a l^afy tree,' a deacnpticdi w
to bring one into a simpler, mon archaic cycle of c
than tiu! hymn I have] list dted. (Xa similar nature nap

VEDIC HEAVEN

r from the Aibarva Veda, that collection of magical spells and

I sayings which, though younger in form, according to expert

I opinion, than the Rig Veda, may contain far older elements,

I Heaven is thus described (Ath. V. iv. 34), ' Dykes of butler

I are there, with shores of honey, tilled with brandy instead of

water, full of milk, of water, of sour milk; such, all the streams

that flow, honey sweet, welling up in the heavenly land. Lotus

groves shall surround thee on every side.' Here we are again

confronted with the familiar equipment of a primitive agricul-

L tural elysium,

I The immortahty claimed by the soma devotee as his reward

does not exhaust the privileges of those who reach Varna's

realm. According to Atharva Veda, in. z8. 5, ' The blessed

ones leave the infirmity of their bodies behind ihem, they are

neither lame nor crooked of body ; ' ' whilst Rig Veda x. 154,

adds details which in realistic grossness transcend anything

outside Mohammedan literature ; the dead are burned, but as

for the blessed one to whom heaven is reserved, ' non urit

I ignis membnim virile nee arripit deus Yama semen ejus,

I much womankind shall be his in heaven.'*

I In summing up the Vedic creed as to future life, Oldenberg

r points out : firstly, that heaven is distinctly reserved for the

pious, 'those who by mortification attain the sun' (R. V. x.

154, 3) ; secondly, that it has for its counterpart a hell (R. V.

VII. 104, 3), 'Indra and Soma,' thus cries the worshipper,

' Compare thil with the Aveslie atAtemenl thai no defonncd person cui

ter Viina's enclosure {lupra, 310). Oldenberg has well pointed out

at the eail; Vedic heaven a essenli&lly aristocratic in its organisation,

■ and it a ooteworlhy in this connection that amongst Ihc andcnl Irish

I defoimity, 01 an; liodity blemish, was lield to l:e a bar to exercise of

■-kingly power.

° Compnie this with the unlimited love nuking which is on essGDtÍaJ
ement in the Irish iLcconnts ot the Happy Otliciworld.

32»

VAMA AND yiMA

' thrust evil-doers down into the dungeon, into endless darki
so thai not one shall come out ' ; again (R. V. iv. 5, 5), ' ~
who roam about like brotherless girls, who follow evil coi
like women who deceive their husbands, who are
false, untruthful, they have brought into being those <
dwelling-places'; and, finally, 'that the heaven ideal of theÍj
Veda hardly rises above the level of a land of Cockayne t
ported into the realms of light, a land Bowing with i
haustible streams of milk and honey, and provided 1
equally Inexhaustible harem delights.'

These quotations, few as they are, from Vedic lite
together with the rejections they suggest to an acute |
sober scholar like Oldenberg, may yield to others, 3
to me, the impression of long and complex evolution with
limits of Ve<hc literature. The idea of ' heaven,' as wc 1
seen amongst Greeks and Scandinavians, is gradually e
from that of the older Elysium, the elements of which it a
lales and transforms. In the Avestic creed such an Ely»
appears in a twofold aspect, each time connected with Ylmi,
and each time definitely disassociated from the Avestic
heaven. That the Vedic Yama is the counterpart of the
Avestic Yima is unanimously agreed. But whereas the latter
is clearly marked off from the god clan, whereas his domain
is no divine land of rewards and putti&hments, or beavcii, the
former, even in the oldest portions of the RÍg Veda, figures at
the divine lord of the land to which men go after death.
True, there sac not wanting traces of an earlier stage of his
personality, one in which he was the firet patriarch, the pro-
genitor of mankind, and, as the first to suiter death, the
natural ruler in the kingdom of death. But taking the earliest
stmtuoi of Vedic titetature u a whole, Yama msy be sud to
fill in it the place of an Indian Pluto, With «dnodng jtan.

INDRA'S REALM

3=3

and as the conception of a future life became more precise,
the law whose operation we have already observed in
Greece may also be noted in India ; the penal side of future
life it is which assumes prominence — the lord of the Other-
world becomes essentially a ruler of hell. Not that Vama
ever entirely loses his connection with Elysium, but during
what has been termed the Mediseval period of Indian civilisa-
tion, roughly speaking from the sixth and fifth centuries B.C.
onwards, it is the Tartarean phase of Yama's character which
is most prominent. The ultimate outcome of this evolution
is a series of hell visions, which for puerile beastliness of
horror outvie anything perhaps that even this hideous phase
of theological fancy has pictured. ' The later stages of Avestic
literature, e.g., the ^'ision of Arda Viraf, dating in its present
form from the seventh or eighth century a.d., show a similar
evolution.*

Whilst the genial patriarch, who in the beginning of years
caroused with the gods in the leafy grove, was bang gradually
turned into a Satan, his place as ruler of the halls of the blessed
was, for a time at least, taken by Indra. In the Mahabharata,
that vast epic literature, which grew to its present swollen
bulk during a period of some thousand years, extending from
the fourth century before, to the sixth or seventh century after
Christ, it is to Indra'a realm that the thoughts of Ihe dying
warrior turn. ' Whoso finds death in battle, flying not, for him
never-ending joys in the palace of Indra,' says the great epic. •

' Cf. L. Scliennaiin, Materialien lut Gcschichlc dci Indiichen VUioni \
littenilur. Leipzig, 1893, I have made considetabie use of tbis rich
colleclion of mateciiil in the foTCEoiiE pages.

' The Book of Arda Vital hu been edited and tmnslated by It.iug and
West, Bombay, 1S91. Cf. also Weil's ttaoiUlion of the Bahmtn Ytsht
(Sacied Books of the East, vol. v.).

3 »4

INDRA'S REALM

This palace, Swarga. which on one side recalls the Scandi-
navian VValhalla, is on another the model of the Mohammedan_
heaven. The ' never-ending joys ' are essentially joys c
senses. Swarga is glorious with precious stones. suiTom
by the fairest gardens ; King Indra sits on his throne _

ihe Gandharvas and Apsaras sing and dance before him. The
Apsaias, ' Indra's girls,' fairest, most desirable and most
ardent of women, await the fallen warrior, thousands arc ready
for him, says Indra, and cry out to him, ' Be thou my hus-
band.' This warhke conception of merit is probably the
earliest, but the texts which tell of Indra's heaven date from
a time when not only the Brahminical system had been liilly
elaborated, but when it had also been affected by the asccdc
movement of which Buddhism was the chief; thus we Icam
that strenuous fasting and many pilgrimages are as sure a.
claim upon the favours of the Apsaras as honourable death
on ihe battle-field. Vet these houris who in another world
are the rewarding compensation of the ascetic devotee, may in
this be used by the gods to tempt him to backsliding, in case
his accumulation of merit, and consequent power, through
the practice of self-inflicted torture, be so great as to cause
them alarm — a strilcing example of the inconsistency of the
whole conception, and a proof of the diverse elements that
enter into it.'

It would seem that the Indians, like the Greek», not con-
lent with working up the Elysium ideal into a paradiniod
golden age (Varna's realm in its hypothetical original sÍgnÍBci'
tion corresponding to the Hcsiodic golden age and to the
Avestic Eran Vej in which VÍma ruled over the firit mcnX
and into a heaven (Varna's realm in its later signilicatioii and

' Thii[WracnphUclii«llybutdapmCh.i6of L.T. Sduoder, I
Liilnatut und Culiur la hlvloriiehet Enlwiduluiit L«lpn|

Indra's Swarga corresponding to the Elysium section of
Greek Hades), also used it in picturing an Utopia. The li
of Ultara Kuru lay beyond the Himalayas, 'that land is'
neither loo cold nor too warm, free it is from sickness, care
and sorrow are unknown there; the earth is not dusty and
yields a sweet smell ; the streams flow in a golden bed roll-
ing down pearls and jewels instead of pebbles." ^ The coi
quests of Alexander brought these legends to the knowlei
of the Greeks. Amometos wrote a novel about the Al
coren, and they were naturally and inevitably identified with
the Hyperboreans, who had been so long the subject of
similar tales among the Greeks.^ The Indian story may pro-
fitably be compared with the Avestic one of Yima's first
realm — both lands lie to the north beyond the mountains,
and both have in all probability the same historic element
in their composition, representing as they do memories of a
fertile valley region (for the Persians the valley of the Araxes,*
for the Indians that of the Oxus?), from which they were

' Quoted froni the Rimajanu hy Lassen, Zeitschrift fUi die KuiuSe dcK
Morgenlandes, vol. ii. 63. Lassen pobts out tbat the inbntúlants of this
favoured region are, in addition to ihc Kuius, ' demi-gods of different
kinds, living in endless joy, and the seven gical saints of the primxva]
world.' In the epic geography, Ullnra Kuru was bounded on the north
by an ocean beyond which lay endless darkness, in which no sun shone.
In the Mahahharala, Ultara Kuril it, renowned as the land of the golden
pTÍmxva] age ; in particular, it is noted that the position of wom
freer than the days of the epic poet.

* C/. Rohde, Gríechischer Roman, 3lS. A. would seem to have
in the third century s.c. al which dale the legendary accounts
Komayana and Mahabhaiata must have been in existence.
I ' Tbis is Darmestetei's conjecture, Avesta ii. sect 4, in opposition to the
comuionty accepted view which places the Ituiian Paradise in Ihe Oxus
valley, a view dating from the time when Ihe original seat of Ihe Arytina
wros held to be the district watered by the head itteain of ibe Oxus.

3j6 chronological SYNOPSIS

driven to occupy (he r^ons in which we find them at the
dawn of their history.

We must now gather up the various dropped threads of
our investigation and see if they can be worked into an
orderly pattern, retracing the growth of the Elysium concep-
tion among the Indo-Germanic races. It will be convenient
to arrange the indications yielded us by literature chrono-
lo^cally, remembering, however, that the chronology is a
tentative one as far as the older dates are concerned, and that
as regards the races which come later within the purview of
antique civilisation (such as the Germans, and espedally the
Irish) late dating does not necessarily imply laic origin,
indeed supplies no valid argument in favour of such a
contention.

1500-1000 B.C. India. Vedic presentment of Varna's
realm — golden age form of the Elysium ideal develop-
ing into the heaven form.
1000-800 B.C. Greece. Homeric presentment of the
gods' land and of realms to which mortals may be
transported by special favour of the goda.
Soo-700 B.C. Greece. Hesiodic account of o golden age
and of an Elysium to which specially meritorious mortjda
penetrate after death. Development by tlie later epic
poets of the Homeric Elysium.
1000-700 B.C. India. Post-Vedic development of Varna's
realm into a definite hea^'cn somctime.5 associated with
him, sometimes with Indri. Great elaboration of the
penal side of future life
700-500 B.C. Greece. Greek development of Elysium
into heaven, coalcsc^icc of Elysium and gods' land.
Elaboration of penal side of future life.
600 R.C to A.D. Pehsia. Avestic account of paradisaical

CHRONOLOGICAL SYNOPSIS 327

golden age (Yima's realm), of cosmological Elysium
(Yima's grove in which human and animal life is stored
up against a great natural catastrophe). Elaboration of
heaven, development and systematisation of hell.

600 B.C. to A.D. India. Buddhist revolt in India against
outcome of Brahminical eschatology. Romantic and
epic use of heaven ideal. Romantic use of Elysium
ideal (connected with golden age form ?).

500-300 B.C. Greece. Elaboration and systematisation of
Greek eschatology under influence of Orphic-Pytha-
gorean doctrines. Romantic and didactic use of the
Elysium ideal in the Utopia literature.

300 B.C. to A.D. Hellenistic Period. Influence of Greek
upon Jewish eschatology. Contact of Greece and
Persia, of Greece and India. Formation of a rich
eschatological Greek- Jewish hterature in which all
previous elements mingle and develop. Marked
prominence of communistic element. Further elabora-
tion of hell,

i-foo A.D. Hellenistic Christian Period. Transfor-
mation of Greek-Jewish into Christian eschatological
literature. Romantic Jewish and Christian use of the
Elysium ideal. Transformation and degradation of hell.

600-700 A.D. Ireland. Earliest Irish eschatological
texts (?) Purely Christian.

1-800 A.D. India and Persia. Great and progressive
elaboration of hell in Avestic, Sanskrit, and Jewish
literature.

700-800 A.D. Ireland. Irish non-Christian Elysium texts.
Elysium {a) a land to which mortals may penetrate by
especial favour of divine beings; (Í) the gods' land.
No trace of heaven or hell.

3a8 CHRONOLOGICAL SYNOPSIS

700-800 A.D. ENc;tAND. Aiiglo-Saxon version of Phi
800-1100 A.D, Ikeland, Romanlic and didactic d

menl of Irish Elysium. Christian tntnsforn

same (in Navigatio S. Brendani).
Soo-iioo A.D, Scandinavia. Scandinavian cscbatolq

texts. Heaven and hell clearly developed.

cosmological myth corresponding to Avestic 1

Yima's grove.
1300-1400 A.D. Ireland. Further Irish developr

romantic, didactic, and Christian scaise of Ihc 1

ideal.
1200-1400 A.D. Scandinavia. Scandinavian :
s of voyage to Elysium.

In considering the foregoing chronological summaty^V
disturbing influence exercised by Christianity upon 1
velopment of Northern and ^Vcstem Europe mtist be b
in mind. A very marked feature in Uie history of the fl
world conception among Greeks, Indians, and Per
the way in which the idea of hell, absent from the t
stratum of texts, gradually assumes such [)rorainencc t
last it completely ovcrthadows the idea of heaven, i
Scandinavia we find a well-developed hell, the econoi
which differs from tiiat of Christian cschatology,
apparcndy aJtin to that of tlic Hellenic TartJirus.
non-Christian Irish texts tliere is no hell. But LhÍS i:
due to the superior attraction of the competing <
accounts of the abode of woe, and to the fact that Í
Christian scriltes and vtory tellent, through whoK hands these
tales have come down to us, allowed the descripiiotis of the
Happy Otberwotld to pass with a minimum of Christiin
gloss, but suppressed the non-Christian descriptions of bell

ESCHATOLOGICAL OTHERWORLD 319

in favour of their own more orthodox account. The Pagan
Elysium was too remote from the stage of development
reached by the Christian heaven In the seventh and eighth
centuries to excite any demur — the Pagan Irish hell, if it ever
existed, may have stood on a dÍETerent footing. I do not
myself think this explanation likely, but it Is possible, and
should be borne in mind as a corrective against undue stress
being laid upon the absence of a hell in pre-Chrisdan Irish
literature.

Apart, however, from this disturbing influence, affecting as
it does two of the Aryan literatures under consideration, the
chronological summary reveals many and perplexing problems.
The apparent retention by Avestic faith of archaic elements
lacking in the Vedas ii] spite of the far greater antiquity
assigned to the latter ; the fact that both Persia and India
ignore certain sides of the Elysium ideal prominent in Greece,
whilst India anticipates, if the received chronology be correct,
other aspects of Hellenic development in the closest manner;
the relation of Scandinavian to Hellenic and Iranian myth :
elucidation of all these points is beset with difficulty. The
main fact, however, that emerges from study of the non-Insh
Aryan conceptions of the Happy Otherworld is that they are
iiiefly eschatological, in other words that they are framed in
»nnection with theories of a future life. Even under the form
^r a paradisaical golden age, eschatological speculation is
implied in the presentment of this happy realm ; it is because
they are the first to suffer death that sway is assigned to the
patriarchs in the future world, the conditions of which are
reflected back upon their previous mortal existence.

In Greece alone, outside Ireland, do we find the Elysium

ideal disassociated from eschatological belief. Have Irish

^^~tU>d Hellenes alone preserved the first stage of the Happy

^ Ary;
^Kpfaie

^BEoni

33°

REINCARNATION

Otherworld conception, thai in which it is solely the |
land, is altogether unconnected with speculation conce
the fate of man after he has quitted this life? That is t
chief problem raised by the Irish texts, and upon its correct
solution depends in a very large measure the correct apprccia>
tion of the evolution of religion among the Ayran races.

Reverting once more to the chronological summary, wc
note that the rise of Buddhism supplies the one fixed pcnnt
in the haze of Indian religious evolution. But Buddhism was
essentially a revolt against a creed that had rcincamaiion
for its animating principle and its chief sanction. In Greece
again the transformation of the Homeric Happy Olhenrorid
into a definite heaven was brought about at a slightly later
date by a like desire to escape the consequences of a creed
based upon reincarnation. This reminds us that in our Irish
group of stories the doctrine of reincarnation is promtticnt.
Before, then, we can form any definite opinion as to the place
of the Irish mythic talcs in the general evolution of Aryan
religion, the doctrine of reincarnation must be examined in the
same way as in the foregoing pages the doctrine of the Happjr
Otherworld. Its manifestations in Celtic literature must be
classified and discussed ; their relation to Christian and pre-
Christian Hellenic belief determined. Examination of the
Hellenic instances will compel the widening of our inquiry's
scope. For the origin of the Orphic- Pythagorean doctrines
has been severally ascribed to India, to Babylonia, and to
Egypt. The escbatology of the two latter countries, which
hitherto I have refrained from glancing at, will reijuire the
most careful study, in which some inlwcsling examples of the
Elysium conception must be included. Only after this ex-
tended survey, which must bear at once upon philosophic
doctrine and burial custom, shall vte l)c in a position to fomi «

REINCARNATION

33'

sound opinion respecting this aspect of the Irish mythic creed,
to determine the real nature of the Happy Otherworld pictured
in its texts, to essay a reconstruction of a mythology and a
reli^on which have come down to us mainly in a romantic
guise. In this task the evidence both of archseology and of
living folk-lore, which I have excluded from this first section
of my study devoted solely to the manifestation of certain
beliefs and fancies in literature, will have to be carefully
weighed. I have some hopes of bringing this task to a con-
clusion within another year, Bui if the scanty leisure upon
which I count is denied me, I trust I have indicated the
main outlines of the investigation with sufficient clearness to
allow of its being pursued by some other student.

In the meantime, and reasoning solely from the facts set
forth in the foregoing pages, without prejudice to different
or even entirely contrary results arising from consideration of
the doctrine of reincarnation, it is I think legitimate to
advance the following tentative propositions : The vision of
a Happy Otherworld found in Irish mythic romances of the
eighth and following centuries is substantially pre-Christian ;
it finds its closest analogues in that stage of Hellenic mythic
belief which precedes the modification of Hellenic religion
consequent upon the spread of the Orphic- Pythagorean
doctrines, and with these it forms the most archaic Aryan
presentment of the divine and happy land we possess.

End of Section I.

*,* I had inteaded iodexing this portion of mjr studr leptmlely, but
have decided to defec indeiing until completion of the whole.

^"9^B^^

[

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