[Page 1.] The “Gloss Gavlen” means simply the Grey (cow) of the Smith, gavlen being properly gavnen—(gaibhnenn) according to O’Donovan. The first part of the story has no real connection with the second. The Gobaun seer, meaning the Smith-builder, was the famous mythic architect, to whom was attributed the erection of various actual edifices,—of which I can only recall at present the Round Tower of Killala. The latter part of the narrative is a genuine folk-reminiscence of some of the most striking characters and events in the oldest Irish mythology. Balar of the Blows (Bemann) was the leader of the Fohmors, the powers of darkness and evil, in the great battle of the northern Moytura, fought near Sligo, in which they were defeated by Lugh, Balar’s daughter’s son, also called Ildauna—that is “of all arts and sciences,” the Irish Apollo, or culture-hero. Of this name, the appellation of Dul Dauna, the Blind-Stubborn, here bestowed on him, appears to be a curious corruption. It is interesting to compare the whole of this account with that found by O’Donovan in Donegal. (See note to Annals of the Four Masters—year of the world 3330.) It contains no reference to the education by Mananaun Mac Lir, the sea-god. It represents the Gloss as originally the property of the smith, Gavida, which appears to be correct.
[Page 5.] “Cruahaun of Connaught,” in the modern county of Roscommon, being separated from the nearest part of Ulster by the county of Leitrim, we gain an idea of what a formidable task it was to herd the Gloss. There is no mention of Ulster in the Irish version, but McGinty told me the lake was in that province.
[Page 6.] “The Kingdoms of the Cold.” This indicates a different geography from that of the opening, in which Balar is located in the East. It seems to identify Balar with the powers of the cold. For a full development of this idea, see the writer’s poem “Moytura,” in “Fand and Other Poems.”
[Page 10.] “Morraha.” The title is curious. Binn Edin has not been identified (it can hardly be Binn Eadar, Howth), though the mention at the end of “Bioultach” places it on the coast. It occurs in other tales, Connal Gulban for example, and it seems to be famous in this kind of literature. The present tale has, so far as I know, only one printed variant, the “Fis fá an aon Sgeul” of Kennedy, not so interesting, I think, as this. The story having two parts, I have ventured to give the best version of each from two different narrators. Substantially both are alike throughout. In the Renvyle version of the opening, the hero is Brian Boru, the victor of Clontarf, and the enchanter is named Flauheen O’Neill. The woman is Flauheen’s wife. The tone is prosy, all the picturesque incidents relating to the horse being absent. The “story,” however, is better told than in the Achill version, except as regards one point, which supplies the wife’s motive for treating her husband as she did. He had found in the woods a wild-man (geltj), whom he took into his house, cleaned and shaved, and made a servant of. This man became his wife’s lover, and on his detecting the fact, she struck him with a rod of druidism, turning him first into a kitchen block, continually kicked and maltreated. I should have stated in the text that the brief conversation preceding the “story” is from the Achill version. Anshgayliacht, the name of the one-eyed monster who stole the children, was the brother of the champion who came in the currach. This name is strange, as it is simply an sjgeeliaxt—i.e., “the story telling.” In the Renvyle version of the conclusion, the hero baffles the enchanter, by pretending to notice some writing on the sword after he has given it to Flauheen. The latter could not read, and gives it back to the other, who immediately cuts his head off. The Achill pretext for not giving the sword up at all,—“though I promised to bring it as far as you, I did not promise to bring it for you,”—is a favourite device in the island. It will be found again in “King Mananaun,” and twice in “The King who had Twelve Sons.”
The word translated “thistles” is snæhĕdi, which usually means needles. The narrator said it meant thistles here.
[Page 14.] The bells rang: cf.,
“And when in Salamanca’s cave
Him listed his magic wand to wave,
The bells would ring in Notre Dame.”