CONTENTS.
| PAGE | |
| THE GLOSS GAVLEN | [1] |
| Narrator, John M’Ginty, Valley, Achill Island, co. Mayo. | |
| MORRAHA | [10] |
| Narrator, P. M’Grale, Dugort, Achill Island, co. Mayo. | |
| THE GHOST AND HIS WIVES | [31] |
| Narrator, Michael Faherty, Renvyle, co. Galway. | |
| THE STORY OF BIOULTACH | [35] |
| Narrator, Terence Davis, Renvyle, co. Galway. | |
| KING MANANAUN | [64] |
| Narrator, P. M’Grale, Achill. | |
| THE CHAMPION OF THE RED BELT | [85] |
| Narrator, P. Minahan, Malinmore, Glencolumkille, co. Donegal. | |
| JACK | [106] |
| Narrator, P. Minahan, Malinmore, Glencolumkille, co. Donegal. | |
| THE SERVANT OF POVERTY | [115] |
| Narrator, P. Minahan, Malinmore, Glencolumkille, co. Donegal. | |
| SIMON AND MARGARET | [130] |
| Narrator, Michael Faherty, Renvyle, co. Galway. | |
| THE SON OF THE KING OF PRUSSIA | [139] |
| Narrator, P. M’Grale, Achill, co. Mayo. | |
| BEAUTY OF THE WORLD | [155] |
| Narrator, P. Minahan, Malinmore, Glencolumkille, co. Donegal. | |
| GRIG | [168] |
| Narrator, Jack Gillespie, Glen, Glencolumkille, co. Donegal. | |
| THE LITTLE GIRL WHO GOT THE BETTER OF THE GENTLEMAN | [174] |
| Narrator, P. M’Grale, Achill, co. Mayo. | |
| GILLA OF THE ENCHANTMENTS | [179] |
| Narrator, P. M’Grale, Dugort, Achill, co. Mayo. | |
| THE WOMAN WHO WENT TO HELL | [188] |
| Narrator, P. Minahan, Malinmore, Glencolumkille, co. Donegal. | |
| THE KING WHO HAD TWELVE SONS | [196] |
| Narrator, John M’Ginty, Valley, Achill Island. | |
| THE RED PONY | [211] |
| Narrator, P. Minahan, Malinmore, co. Donegal. | |
| THE NINE-LEGGED STEED | [219] |
| Narrator, P. Minahan, Malinmore, co. Donegal. | |
| THE PHONETIC TEXT | [232] |
| SPECIMENS OF THE TALES IN (PHONETIC) IRISH | [239] |
| NOTES | [251] |
THE GLOSS GAVLEN.
Narrator, John McGinty, Valley, Achill Island, co. Mayo.
The Gobaun Seer and his son went eastward to the eastern world to Balar Beimann to make for him a palace. “Shorten the road, my son,” said the father. The son ran out before him on the road, and the father returned home on that day. The second day they went travelling, and the father told his son to shorten the road. He ran out in front of his father the second day, and the father returned home.
“What’s the cause of your returning home like that?” said the wife of the young Gobaun.
“My father asks me to shorten the road. I run out on the road before him, and he returns.”
“Do you begin to-morrow at a story he has never heard, and I’ll go bail he will not return. And do you never be in any place that the women are not on your side.”
They went travelling the third day, and the young Gobaun began at a story his father never heard, and he returned no more till they came to the eastern world. Then they made the palace for Balar Beimann, and he did not wish to let them go back, for fear they should make for another man a palace as good as his.
“Take away the scaffolding” (said he); for he wanted to let them die on the top of the building. Balar Beimann had a girl, who went by under the building in the morning.
“Young Gobaun,” said she, “go on thy wisdom. I think it is easier to throw seven stones down than to put one up as far as you.”
“That’s true for you,” said young Gobaun.
They began to let down the work. When Balar Beimann heard that they were throwing down the works, he ordered back the scaffolding till they were down on the ground.
“Now,” said the old Gobaun Seer, “there is a crookedness in your work, and if I had three tools I left after me at home, I would straighten the work, and there would not be any work in the world to compare with it. The names of the tools are—Crooked against Crooked, Corner against Corner, and Engine against deceit;[2] and there is not a man to get them but your own son. You will find,” said he, “a woman with one hand, and a child with one eye, in the house, and a stack of corn at the door.”
The father then gave him a ship and sent him over to Erin. He was travelling ever till he found out the house; and he went into it. He asked if that was the house of young Gobaun. The woman said it was.
“He said to me there was a woman with one hand, and a child with one eye in the house, and a stack of corn at the door.”
“Don’t you see,” said she, “that I have only one hand, and don’t you see this stick in the hand of the child? I don’t know what moment he won’t put it in his eye and take the eye out of himself; and don’t you see the stack of corn outside at the door?”
He asked then for the three tools.
“What three tools?” said she.
“They are Corner against Corner, Crooked against Crooked, and Engine against deceit.”
She understood then that they (i.e. her husband and his father) would never come home, if she did not understand these words.
“The three tools that are called Crooked against Crooked, Corner against Corner, and Engine against deceit, they are down in this chest.”
She went then and opened the chest, and told him to stoop down to the bottom, that she was not tall enough. He stooped, and when she got him bent down, she threw him into the chest and closed it, and told him he should stay there till young Gobaun and old Gobaun came home and their pay for their service with them.
She sent word to Balar Beimann that she had his son in confinement, till young Gobaun and old Gobaun came home. He gave them a ship and sent them home with their pay; and she let Balar Beimann’s son back to him again. When they were going home, Balar asked Gobaun what smith would he get to put irons on his palace.
“There is no smith in Erin better than Gavidjeen Go.”
When the old Gobaun came home he told Gavidjeen Go to take no pay from him for putting the irons on his palace, except the Gloss:
“If twenty barrels were put under her, she would fill the twenty barrels.”
Balar Beimann then wrote to the Gavidjeen Go that he would give him the Gloss if he would make irons for his palace. But when he sent the Gloss, he did not give the byre-rope, and he knew that when he did not give that, she would go from him.
This is the bargain that Gavidjeen Go made then with every champion that came to him:—to mind the cow and bring her safe home to him at evening; he would make a sword for every champion who would mind her. She would pasture in the daytime at Cruahawn, of Connaught, and drink at Loch Ayachir-a-Guigalu, in Ulster, in the evening.
Kian, the son of Contje, came to him to have a sword made. He told him he would make it, but that the bargain would be to mind the Gloss that day.
“If she is not home with you to me in the evening, you must lay down your head on the anvil, that I may cut it off with your own sword.”
Kian, the son of Contje, went then and took hold of her by the tail. When he came home in the evening, “Here is the Gloss outside,” said he to Gavidjeen Go. There was a champion inside in the forge, whose name was the Laughing Knight. He ran out and said to Kian:
“The smith is about to put tempering on your sword, and unless you have hold of it, there will be no power in it when you wield it.”
When Kian, the son of Contje, went in, he forgot to drive in the Gloss. Gavidjeen Go asked him, “Where is the Gloss?”
“There she is, outside the door.”
“Put her in,” said he.
When he went out she was gone.
“Lay down your head upon the anvil, that I may cut it off you.”
“I am asking of you the favour of three days, to go and seek her.”
“I will give you that,” said he.
He went with himself then, and was following her tracks till he came to the sea. He was up and down on the shore, plucking his hair from his head, in trouble after the Gloss. There was a man out on the sea in a currach. He rowed in to him. It was the tawny Mananaun, the son of Lir. He asked him—
“What is the matter with you to-day?”
He told him.
“How much will you give to any one who will leave you in the place where the Gloss is?”
“I have nothing to give him.”
“I will ask nothing of you, but the half of all you gain till you come back.”
“I will give you that,” said Kian, son of Contje.
“Be into the currach.”
In the winking of an eye he left him over in the kingdoms of the cold; nor on that island was a morsel cooked ever, but they ate every kind of food raw. Kian, son of Contje, made a fire, and began to cook his food. When Balar Beimann heard the like was there, he took him to be his cook, his story-teller, and his fireman. Well, Balar Beimann had one daughter, and a prediction was made that she would have a son, who would kill his grandfather. He then put her into prison for fear a man would come near her; and it was he himself who would go to her with food, and the companion with her was a dummy woman. Mananaun left this enchantment with Kian, son of Contje, that any lock he laid his hand on would open and shut after him. He was looking at Balar Beimann going to this house, to his daughter, with food for her, and he went himself after him to the house, and he laid his hand on the lock and opened the door, and found none but the two women there. He made a fire for them. He was coming there ever, till a child happened to her. He was then going to depart, when the boy was born. He went to the king and told him he must depart.
“Why are you going?” said he.
“It is because accidents have happened to me since I came into this island. I must go.”
“What is the accident?” said he.
“A child has happened to me.”
Balar had two sons on another island learning druidism. They came home to the palace to their father.
“Father,” said a man of them, “your story-teller, your cook, and your fireman will give you your sufficiency of trouble.”
Kian, son of Contje, was listening to them speaking. He went to the daughter of Balar Beimann, and told her what her brother said.
“Well,” said she, “it is now time for you to be going. That is the byre-rope of the Gloss, hanging on the wall. She will be as quick as you; and take with you the boy.”
He went then till he came to the place where Mananaun put him out. Mananaun told him, when he was in difficulty, to think of him and he would come. He now came on the instant.
“Be in the currach,” said Mananaun, “and make haste, or Balar Beimann will drown us, if he can. But greater is my druidism than his,” said the tawny Mananaun, the son of Lir.
He jumped into the currach, and the Gloss jumped in as soon as he. Balar Beimann followed them, and raised the sea in a storm before them and behind them, nor did Mananaun aught but stretch out his hand and make the sea calm. Balar then set fire to the sea before them in hopes of burning them, but Mananaun threw out a stone, and extinguished the sea.
“Now, Kian, son of Contje, you are safe and sound home, and what will you give me for it?”
“I have nothing but the boy, and we will not go to make two halves of him, but I will give him to you entirely.”
“I am thankful to you. That is what I was wanting. There will be no champion in the world as good as he,” said Mananaun.
This is the name that Mananaun baptized him with—the Dul Dauna. He brought him up with feats of activity and championship. He and Mananaun were out one day on the sea, and they saw the fleet of Balar Beimann sailing. The Dul Dauna put a ring to his eye, and he saw his grandfather on the deck walking, but he did not know it was his grandfather. He (took) a dart from his pocket and flung it at him and killed him. The prophecy was then fulfilled.
[2] Or, perhaps, “trick against treachery.”
MORRAHA, BRIAN MORE, SON OF THE HIGH-KING OF ERIN FROM THE WELL OF ENCHANTMENTS OF BINN EDIN.
Narrator, P. McGrale, Dugort, Achill Island, co. Mayo.
Morraha rose in the morning and washed his hands and face, and said his prayers, and ate his food; and he asked God to prosper the day for him; and he went down to the brink of the sea, and he saw a currach, short and green, coming towards him; and in it there was but one youthful champion, and he playing hurly from prow to stern of the currach. He had a hurl of gold and a ball of silver; and he stopped not till the currach was in on the shore; and he drew her up on the green grass, and put fastening on her for a day and a year, whether he should be there all that time or should only be on land for an hour by the clock. And Morraha saluted the young man in words intelligent, intelligible, such as (were spoken) at that time; and the other saluted him in the same fashion, and asked him would he play a game of cards with him; and Morraha said that he had not the wherewithal; and the other answered that he was never without a candle or the making of it; and he put his hand in his pocket and drew out a table and two chairs and a pack of cards, and they sat down on the chairs and went to the card-playing. The first game Morraha won, and the slender red champion bade him make his claim; and he said that the land above him should be filled with stock of sheep in the morning. It was well; and he played no second game, but home he went.
The next day Morraha went to the brink of the sea, and the young man came in the currach and asked him would he play cards; and they played; and Morraha won. And the young man bade him make his claim; and he said that the land above should be filled with cattle in the morning. It was well; and he played no other game, but went home.
And on the third morning Morraha went to the brink of the sea, and he saw the young man coming. And he drew up his boat on the shore and asked him would he play cards. And they played, and Morraha won the game; and the young man bade him give his claim. And he said he should have a castle and of women the finest and the fairest; and they were his. It was well; and the young man went away.
On the fourth day the woman asked him how he had found himself, and he told her. “And I am going out” (said he) “to play again to-day.”
“I cross” (forbid) “you to go again to him. If you have won so much, you will lose more; and have no more to do with him.”
But he went against her will, and he saw the currach coming; and the young man was driving his balls from end to end of the currach; he had balls of silver and a hurl of gold, and he stopped not till he drew his boat on the shore, and made her fast for a year and a day. And Morraha and he saluted each other; and he asked Morraha if he would play a game of cards, and they played, and he won. And Morraha said to him, “Give your claim now.”
Said he, “You will hear it too soon. I lay on you the bonds of the art of the druid, not to sleep two nights in one house, nor finish a second meal at the one table, till you bring me the sword of light and news of the death of Anshgayliacht.”
He went home to his wife and sat down in a chair, and gave a groan, and the chair broke in pieces.
“It is the son of a king under spells you are,” said his wife; “and you had better have taken my counsel than that the spells should be on you.”
He said to her to bring news of the death of Anshgayliacht and the sword of light to the slender red champion.
“Go out,” said she, “in the morning of the morrow, and take the bridle in the window, and shake it; and whatever beast, handsome or ugly, puts the head in it, take that one with you. Do not speak a word to her till she speaks to you; and take with you three pint bottles of ale and three sixpenny loaves, and do the thing she tells you; and when she runs to my father’s land, on a height above the court, she will shake herself, and the bells will ring, and my father will say Brown Allree is in the land. And if the son of a king or queen is there, bring him to me on your shoulders; but if it is the son of a poor man, let him come no further.”
He rose in the morning, and took the bridle that was in the window, and went out and shook it; and Brown Allree came and put her head in it. And he took the three loaves and three bottles of ale, and went riding; and when he was riding she bent her head down to take hold of her feet with her mouth, in hopes he would speak in ignorance; but he spoke not a word during the time, and the mare at last spoke to him, and said to him to dismount and give her her dinner. He gave her the sixpenny loaf toasted, and a bottle of ale to drink. “Sit up now riding, and take good heed of yourself: there are three miles of fire I have to clear at a leap.”
She cleared the three miles of fire at a leap, and asked if he were riding, and he said he was. They went on then, and she told him to dismount and give her a meal; and he did so, and gave her a sixpenny loaf and a bottle; and she consumed them, and said to him there were before them three miles of hill covered with steel thistles, and that she must clear it. And she cleared the hill with a leap, and she asked him if he were still riding, and he said he was. They went on, and she went not far before she told him to give her a meal, and he gave her the bread and the bottleful. And she went over three miles of sea with a leap, and she came then to the land of the King of France; and she went up on a height above the castle, and she shook herself and neighed, and the bells rang; and the king said that it was Brown Allree was in the land. “Go out,” said he, “and if it is the son of a king or queen, carry him in on your shoulders; if it is not, leave him there.”
They went out; and the stars of the son of a king were on his breast; and they lifted him high on their shoulders and bore him in to the king. And they passed the night cheerfully, with playing and with drinking, with sport and with diversion, till the whiteness of the day came upon the morrow morning.
Then the young king told the cause of his journey, and he asked of the queen her counsel and consent, and to give him counsel and good luck, and the woman told him everything she advised him to do. “Go now,” said she, “and take with you the best mare in the stable, and go to the door of Rough Niall of the speckled rock, and knock, and call on him to give you news of the death of Anshgayliacht and the sword of light; and let the horse’s back be to the door, and apply the spurs, and away with you.”
And in the morning he did so, and he took the best horse from the stable and rode to the door of Niall, and turned the horse’s back to the door, and demanded news of the death of Anshgayliacht and the sword of light; and he applied the spurs, and away with him. And Niall followed him, and, as he was passing the gate, cut the horse in two. And the mother was there with a dish of puddings and flesh, and she threw it in his eyes and blinded him, and said, “Fool, whatever kind of man it is that’s mocking you, isn’t that a fine condition you have got on your father’s horse?”
On the morning of the next day, Morraha rose, and took another horse from the stable, and went again to the door of Niall, and knocked and demanded news of the death of Anshgayliacht and the sword of light, and applied the spurs to the horse and away with him. And Niall followed, and as he was passing the gate, cut the horse in two and took half the saddle with him; and his mother met him and threw the flesh in his eyes and blinded him.
And on the third day, Morraha went also to the door of Niall; and Niall followed him, and as he was passing the gate, cut away the saddle from under him and the clothes from his back. Then his mother said to Niall,—
“Whatever fool it is that’s mocking you, he is out yonder in the little currach, going home; and take good heed to yourself, and don’t sleep one wink for three days.”
And for three days the little currach was there before him, and then his mother came to him and said,—
“Sleep as much as you want now. He is gone.”
And he went to sleep, and there was heavy sleep on him, and Morraha went in and took hold of the sword that was on the bed at his head. And the sword thought to draw itself out of the hand of Morraha; but it failed. And then it gave a cry, and it wakened Niall, and Niall said it was a rude and rough thing to come into his house like that; and said Morraha to him,—
“Leave your much talking, or I will cut the head off you. Tell me the news of the death of Anshgayliacht.”
“Oh, you can have my head.”
“But your head is no good to me; tell me the story.”
“Oh,” said Niall’s wife, “you must get the story.”
“Oh” [said Morraha], “is the woman your wife?”
“Oh,” said the man, “it is not you who have the story.”
“Oh,” said she, “you will tell it to us.”
“Well,” said the man, “let us sit down together till I tell the story. I thought no one would ever get it; but now it will be heard by all.”