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Subject Index A-B
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Subject Index G-K
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Searc's Web Guide to 17th Century Ireland - Anonymous
17th Century Poem The poem Tuar beannacht bheith i bpríosún! was composed in Glenfin, County Donegal in the late 17th century. The poem is contained in An Duanaire Mhág Uidhir - The Poem Book of the Maguires of County Fermanagh. The anonymous poet was most likely a dependent of the exiled Rudhraighe Óg Mag Uidhir, the 5th Lord Enniskillen, who fled to the Continent after the Battle of Aughrim in 1691. The 'Book' was in the possession of a Dominican Friar, Séamus ÓMuireadhaigh, at Louvain in 1732. It is believed that he brought it back to Dublin as it was in the Dublin Dominican House in 1756 when the Prior, Seán Mag Uidhir, added his genealogy. At the turn of the eighteenth century the 'Book' was in the possession of the Ó Caisde of County Meath whose ancestors were physicians to the Maguires. In 1838 the 'Book' was sold to Henry MacManus of Ballyjamesduff, County Cavan by Francis ÓCaisde and in 1923 it was bought at Southeby's by the British Library and catalogued by Robin Flower. This translation from the Irish is by Eamon Nolan who was an Irish Republican prisoner in Portlaoise Prison from 1980-1992.© |
| Cóir do chách síorthnúth rinne; gi-bé ar bhfuil dith beanacht go bráth leagadh don tigh-se. A fhir do thuill trét ande bhrith id chrann mallacht doitse, beir an uair-se id chrann beannacht acht go dteaga don toigh-se. An uair chuirim neach éigin d'iarraidh déirce fán bpobal, ní thig chugam rem theachta acht míle beannacht fholamh. Ait an déirc duine shaidhbhir beannacht go braighdibh bochta, 's go dtuibhrainn féin céad beannacht ar phionta leanna dhá olas. Ag reic beannacht go saidhbhir bád braighde bochta an uair-se; Créad do b'áil linn don earradh nach gnáth dhá cheannadh uainne? Tír Chonaill mhic Néill niamhghloin Ní díigh diabhail dá mealladh; Ní bhíonn duine san tír sin. Ach lán do mhíltibh beannacht! A grábhadh san re haithigh gé nechar thaitin rinne, ní fhaicim pobal beannacht mar mhuintir Ghleanne Finne. An chuid eile dár gcóirdibh go nach dtáinig ar dteachta más iad go ar lucht cumainn, ná cuirdús chugainn beannacht. Cuirdís chugainn déirc oile ar gcairde croidhe cruaidhe; ní shásann beannacht fholamh duine ar dhomhan an uair-se. Dá mbeidís mar tá sinne Colum Cille agus Pádraig ní ghéabhdaois beannacht fholamh gér mhór moladh a gcrábhaidh. |
To be in prison is to be showered by Blessings!* Everyone should desire it Whoever needs a blessing Should lie forever in this house. Oh man who earned the name of God, Your cursed tree had meaning, I too am suffering on your cross, That you might come to this house. Every time I send someone, Asking charity from my people, The only messages I get Are a thousand empty blessings. A strange charity for a rich person, To send a blessing to a poor captive, And it's I would give a hundred blessings, If I had a pint of ale to drink. Selling blessings to the rich, The poor captives now could be; The most beautiful of goods, Not often bought from us? For there's no-one in that country, Tir Chonaill of the briliant O'Neills, The devil will never get you; Without a thousand blessings! You prattlers and peasants, Who have never done any good, I don't see a more blessed people Than the people in Glenn Finn. Those other friends of ours Who have not yet received our pleas If they are truly friends, They will send us more than blessings. They will send us many goods Our friends of the hard hearts; An empty blessing does not satisfy A soul on earth at this time. If we were as you are Colmcille and Patrick We'd not send empty blessings However much their piety. |
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