 Section 81 of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The World's Story, Volume 10, England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales, edited by Eva March Tappen. Section 81, Hwasien in Tyrenannog, an Irish Folk Story. The following is a good example of the Folk Story of Ireland. It is a fascinating commingling of the real and fictitious. Finn McComhayle, St Patrick, the Jews and the Druids, abide together in the utmost harmony. Whether their home is pictured as in the fabled country of youth, or on the very substantial hill called Knock and Ar, is entirely immaterial. There is unrestrained fancy and a wild luxuriance of imagination. The narrative roams on from one incident to another, with little attempt at definite construction. The ending may be the climax of some episode of the story, but often it provides nothing by way of climax to the tale as a whole. This tale of Hwasien, Ocean, is one of the folk tales collected by Jeremiah Curtin in Ireland in 1887, taken from the lips of Gaelic speaking persons. The Editor There was a king in Tyrenannog, the land of youth, who held the throne and crown for many a year against all comers. And the law of the kingdom was that every seventh year the champions and best men of the country should run for the office of king. Once in seven years they all met at the front of the palace, and ran to the top of a hill two miles distant. On the top of the hill was a chair, and the man that sat first in the chair was king of Tyrenannog for the next seven years. After he had ruled for ages the king became anxious. He was afraid that someone might sit in the chair before him and take the crown off his head. So he called up his druid one day and asked, How long shall I keep the chair to rule this land, and will any man sit in it before me and take the crown off my head? You will keep the chair and the crown forever, said the druid, unless your own son-in-law takes them from you. The king had no sons, and but one daughter, the finest woman in Tyrenannog, and the like of her could not be found in Tyrenannog or any kingdom in the world. When the king heard the words of the druid, he said, I'll have no son-in-law, for I'll put the daughter in a way no man will marry her. Then he took a rod of druidic spells, and calling the daughter up before him, he struck her with the rod, and put a pig's head on her in place of her own. Then he sent the daughter away to her own place in the castle, and turning to the druid said, There's no man that will marry her now. When the druid saw the face that was on the princess with the pig's head that the father gave her, he was very sorry that he had given such information to the king, and some time after he went to see the princess. Must I be this way forever? asked she of the druid. You must, said he, till you marry one of the sons of Fin Makumheil in Tyrenn. If you marry one of Fin's sons, you'll be freed from the blot that is on you now, and get back your own head and countenance. When she heard this, she was impatient in her mind, but never rest till she left Tyrenn Anok and came to Eren. When she had inquired, she heard that Fin and the Finians of Eren were at that time living on Nokkan Nar, and she made her way to the place without delay, and lived there a while. And then she saw Hoazin. He pleased her, and when she found out that he was a son of Fin Makumheil, she was always making up to him and coming towards him. And it was usual for the Finians in those days to go out hunting on the hills and mountains, and in the woods of Eren, and when one of them went, he always took five or six men with him to bring home the game. On a day Hoazin set out with his men and dogs to the woods, and he went so far, and killed so much game, that when it was brought together, the men were so tired, weak and hungry, that they couldn't carry it, but went away home and left him with the three dogs, Bran, Shiaolab and Buglen, to shift for himself. Now the daughter of the king of Tyrenn Anok, who was herself the queen of youth, followed closely in the hunt all that day, and when the men left Hoazin, she came up to him. As he stood looking at the great pile of game and said, I am very sorry to leave behind anything that I've had the trouble of killing, she looked at him and said, Tie up a bundle for me, and I'll carry it to lighten the load off you. Hoazin gave her a bundle of the game to carry, and took the remainder himself. The evening was very warm and the game heavy, and after they had gone some distance, Hoazin said, Let us rest awhile. Both threw down their burdens and put their backs against a great stone that was by the roadside. The woman was heated and out of breath, and opened her dress to cool herself. Then Hoazin looked at her and saw her beautiful form and her white bosom. Ah, then said he, It's a pity you have the pigs head on you. For I have never seen such an appearance on a woman in all my life before. Well, said she, My father is the king of Tirnanok, and I was the finest woman in his kingdom, and the most beautiful of all, till he put me under a druid expel, and gave me the pigs head that's on me now in place of my own. And the druid of Tirnanok came to me afterwards, and told me that if one of the sons of Fin Makumheil would marry me, the pigs head would vanish, and I should get back my face in the same form as it was before my father struck me with the druid's wand. When I heard this I never stopped till I came to Eren, where I found your father, and picked you out among the sons of Fin Makumheil, and followed you to see would you marry me and set me free. If that is the stage you're in, and if marriage with me will free you from the spell, I'll not leave the pigs head on you long. So they got married without delay, not waiting to take home the game or to lift it from the ground. That moment the pigs head was gone, and the king's daughter had the same face and beauty that she had before her father struck her with the druid's wand. Now said the queen of youth to Huazin, I cannot stay here long, and unless you come with me to Tirnanok we must part. Oh! said Huazin, wherever you go I'll go, and wherever you turn I'll follow. Then she turned and Huazin went with her, not going back to Nokkanar to see his father or his son. That very day they set out for Tirnanok, and never stopped till they came to her father's castle. And when they came there was a welcome before them, for the king thought his daughter was lost. That same year there was to be a choice of a king, and when the appointed day came at the end of the seventh year, all the great men and the champions and the king himself met together at the front of the castle, to run and see who should be first in the chair on the hill. But before a man of them was halfway to the hill, Huazin was sitting above in the chair before them. After that time no one stood up to run for the office against Huazin, and he spent many a happy year as king in Tirnanok. At last he said to his wife, I wish I could be an errand today to see my father and his men. If you go, said his wife, and set foot on the land of errand, you'll never come back here to me, and you'll become a blind old man. How long do you think it is since you came here? About three years, said Huazin. It is three hundred years, said she, since you came to this kingdom with me. If you must go to errand, I'll give you this white-faced steed to carry you. But if you come down from the steed, or touch the soil of errand with your foot, the steed will come back that minute, and you will be where he left you, a poor old man. I'll come back, never fear, said Huazin. Have I not good reason to come back? But I must see my father and my son and my friends in errand once more. I must have even one look at them. She prepared the steed for Huazin and said, This steed will carry you wherever you wish to go. Huazin never stopped till the steed touched the soil of errand, and he went on until he came to Nockpatrick in Munster, where he saw a man herding cows. In the field where the cows were grazing, there was a broad, flat stone. Will you come here, said Huazin to the herdsman, and turn over this stone? Indeed then I will not, said the herdsman, for I could not lift it, nor twenty men more like me. Huazin rode up to the stone, and reaching down, caught it with his hand and turned it over. Underneath the stone was the great horn of the Fenians, Barabu, which circled round like a seashell. And it was the rule that when any of the Fenians of errand blew the Barabu, the others would assemble at once from whatever part of the country they might be in at the time. Will you bring this horn to me? asked Huazin of the herdsman. I will not, said the herdsman, for neither I nor many more like me could raise it from the ground. With that Huazin moved near the horn, and reaching down took it in his hand, but so eager was he to blow it that he forgot everything, and slipped in reaching till one foot touched the earth. In an instant the steed was gone, and Huazin lay on the ground a blind old man. The herdsman went to St. Patrick, who lived nearby, and told him what happened. St. Patrick sent a man and a horse for Huazin, brought him to his own house, gave him a room by himself, and sent a boy to stay with him, to serve and take care of him. And St. Patrick commanded his cook to send Huazin plenty of meat and drink, to give him bread and beef and butter every day. Now Huazin lived a while in this way. The cook sent him provisions each day, and St. Patrick himself asked him all kinds of questions about the old times of the Finians of Aaron. Huazin told him about his father Fin M'Kumheil, about himself, his son Oscar, Gol M'Kmurna, Conan Mayall, Daya Muit, and all the Finian heroes, how they fought, feasted and hunted, how they came under druidic spells, and how they were freed from them. At the same time St. Patrick was putting up a great building, but what his men used to put up in the daytime was levelled at night. And St. Patrick lamented over his losses in the hearing of Huazin. Then Huazin said in the hearing of St. Patrick, if I had my strength and my sight I'd put a stop to the power that is levelling your work. Do you think you'd be able to do that? said St. Patrick, and let my building go on? I do indeed, said Huazin. So St. Patrick prayed to the Lord and the sight and strength came back to Huazin. He went to the woods and got a great club and stood at the building on guard. What should come in the night but a great beast in the form of a bull, which began to uproot and destroy the work? But if he did, Huazin faced him, and the battle became hot and heavy between the two. But in the course of the night Huazin got the upper hand of the bull and left him dead before the building. Then he stretched out on the ground himself and fell asleep. Now St. Patrick was waiting at home to know how would the battle come out, and thinking Huazin too long away he sent a messenger to the building. And when the messenger came he saw the ground torn up, a hill in one place and a hollow in the next. The bull was dead and Huazin sleeping after the desperate battle. He went back and told what he saw. Oh! said St. Patrick, it's better to knock the strength out of him again for he'll kill us all if he gets vexed. St. Patrick took the strength out of him, and when Huazin woke up he was a blind man, and the messenger went out and brought him home. Huazin lived on for a time as before. The cook sent him his food, the boy served him, and St. Patrick listened to the stories of the Finians of Errin. St. Patrick had a neighbour, a Jew, a very rich man, but the greatest miser in the kingdom. And he had the finest haggard, hay-yard, of corn in Errin. Well, the Jew and St. Patrick got very intimate with one another, and so great became the friendship of the Jew for St. Patrick at last, that he said he'd give him, for the support of his house, as much corn as one man could thrash out of the haggard in a day. When St. Patrick went home after getting the promise of the corn, he told in the hearing of Huazin about what the Jew had said. Oh! then, said Huazin, if I had my sight and strength, I'd thrash as much corn in one day, as would do your whole house for a twelve-month and more. Will you do that for me? said St. Patrick. I will, said Huazin. St. Patrick prayed again to the Lord, and the sight and strength came back to Huazin. He went to the woods next morning at daybreak, Huazin did, pulled up two fine ash trees, and made a flail of them. After eating his breakfast he left the house, and never stopped till he faced the haggard of the Jew. Standing before one of the stacks of wheat, he hit at a wallop of his flail and broke it asunder. He kept on in this way till he slashed the whole haggard to and fro, and the Jew running like mad up and down the high road in front of the haggard, tearing the hair from his head when he saw what was doing to his wheat, and the face gone from him entirely. He was so in dread of Huazin. When the haggard was thrashed clean, Huazin went to St. Patrick and told him to send his men for the wheat, for he had thrashed out the whole haggard. When St. Patrick saw the countenance that was on Huazin, and heard what he had done, he was greatly in dread of him, and knocked the strength out of him again. And Huazin became an old blind man as before. St. Patrick's men went to the haggard, and there was so much wheat, they didn't bring the half of it away with them, and they didn't want it. Huazin again lived for a while before, and then he was vexed because the cook didn't give him what he wanted. He told St. Patrick that he wasn't getting enough to eat. Then St. Patrick called up the cook before himself and Huazin, and asked her what she was giving Huazin to eat. She said, I give him at every meal what bread is baked on a large griddle, and all the butter I make in one churn, and a quarter of beef besides. That ought to be enough for you, said St. Patrick. Oh, then, said Huazin, turning to the cook. I have often seen the leg of a blackbird bigger than the quarter of beef you give me. I have often seen an ivy leaf bigger than the griddle on which you bake the bread for me. And I have often seen a single rowan, mountain ash, berry bigger than the bit of butter you give me to eat. You lie, said the cook. You never did. Huazin said not a word in answer. Now there was a hound in the place that was going to have her first quilts, and Huazin said to the boy who was tending him, do you mind and get the first quilt she'll have and drown the others? Next morning the boy found three quilts, and coming back to Huazin said, there are three quilts, and it is unknown which of them is the first. At St. Patrick's house they had slaughtered an ox the day before, and Huazin said, now and bring the hide of the ox and hang it up in this room. When the hide was hung up, Huazin said, bring here the three quilts and throw them up against the hide. The boy threw up one of the quilts against the ox hide. What did he do? asked Huazin. What did he do? said the boy, but fall to the ground. Throw up another, said Huazin. The boy threw another. What did he do? asked Huazin. What did he do, but fall the same as the first? The third quilt was thrown, and he held fast to the hide. Didn't fall. What did he do? asked Huazin. Oh! said the boy. He kept his hold. Take him down, said Huazin. Give him to the mother. Bring both in here. Feed the mother well and drown the other two. The boy did as he was commanded and fed the two well, and when the quilt grew up the mother was banished, the quilt chained up and fed for a year and a day. And when the year and a day were spent, Huazin said, we'll go hunting tomorrow, and we'll take the dog with us. They went next day, the boy guiding Huazin, holding the dog by a chain. They went first to the place where Huazin had touched earth and lost the magic steed from Tirna-nok. The Borobu of the Fenians of Aeron was lying on the ground there still. Huazin took it up and they went on to Glen Nasmui, Thrush's Glen. When at the edge of the Glen, Huazin began to sound the Borobu. Birds and beasts of every kind came hurrying forward. He blew the horn till the Glen was full of them from end to end. What do you see now? asked he of the boy. The Glen is full of living things. What is the dog doing? He is looking ahead and his hair is on end. Do you see anything else? I see a great bird, all black, settling down on the north side of the Glen. That's what I want said Huazin. What is the dog doing now? Oh, the eyes are coming out of his head and there isn't a rip of hair on his body that isn't standing up. Let him go now, said Huazin. The boy let slip the chain and the dog rushed through the Glen, killing everything before him. When all the others were dead, he turned to the great blackbird and killed that. Then he faced Huazin and the boy and came bounding toward them with venom and to fierceness. Huazin drew out of his bosom a brass ball and said, If you don't throw this into the dog's mouth, he'll destroy us both. Knock the dog with the ball or he'll tear us to pieces. Oh, said the boy, I'll never be able to throw the ball. I'm so in dread of the dog. Come here at my back then, said Huazin and straightened my hand towards the dog. The boy directed the hand and Huazin threw the ball into the dog's mouth and killed him on the spot. What have we done? asked Huazin. Oh, the dog is knocked, said the boy. We are all right then, said Huazin. And do you lead me now to the blackbird of the Khan? I don't care for the others. They went to the great bird, kindled a fire and cooked all except one of its legs. Then Huazin ate as much as he wanted and said, I've had a good meal of my own hunting and it's many and many a day since I've had one. Now let us go on farther. They went into the woods and soon Huazin asked the boy, Do you see anything wonderful? I see an ivy with the largest leaves I have ever set eyes on. Take one leaf of that ivy, said Huazin. The boy took the leaf. Near the ivy they found a rowanberry and then went home taking the three things with them, the blackbird's leg, the ivy leaf and the rowanberry. When they reached the house, Huazin called for the cook and Simpatrick made her come to the fore. When she came, Huazin pointed to the blackbird's leg and asked, Which is larger? That leg or the quarter of beef you give me? Oh, that is a deal larger, said the cook. You were right in that case, said Simpatrick to Huazin. Then Huazin drew out the ivy leaf and asked, Which is larger? This or the griddle on which you made bread for me? That is larger than the griddle and the bread together, said the cook. Right again, said Simpatrick. Huazin now took out the rowanberry and asked, Which is larger? This berry or the butter of one churning which you give me? Oh, that is bigger, said the cook, than both the churn and the butter. Right every time, said Simpatrick. Then Huazin raised his arm and swept the head off the cook with a stroke from the edge of his hand, saying, You'll never give the lie to an honest man again. End of Section 81. Section 82 of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The World's Story, Volume 10. England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. Edited by Avalmarch Tappan. Section 82. The Chase of Schliff Cullen. An Old Irish legend. The Fanny were a sort of militia who were in the glory in the third century. Their most famous commander was Finn and Finn's son was Huazin or Huazin, the poet. According to tradition, Huazin lived till the times of Patrick and related to him the following tale together with many others. Even today, the belief lingers that the waters of the Little Lake, Schliff Cullen, have the power to turn the hair gray. In the Irish legends, the Daedanans are magicians. The editor. Cullen, the smith of the Daedanans who lived at Schliff Cullen, had two beautiful daughters, Malukra and Aina. They both loved Finn and each sought him for her husband. As they walked together one evening near Allen, they fell to talking of many things and their conversation turning at last on their future husbands, Aina said she would never marry a man with gray hair. When Malukra heard this, she resolved with herself that if she could not get Finn, she would plan so that he should not marry her sister, Aina. So she departed immediately and turning her steps northwards, she summoned the Daedanans to meet her at Schliff Cullen. When she brought them all together, she caused them to make her a lake at the top of the mountain and she breathed a deridical virtue on its waters that all who bathed in it should become gray. On a morning not long after this, Finn happened to be walking alone on the lawn before the palace of Allen, when a doe sprang out from a thicket and passing quite close to him, bounded past like the wind. Without a moment's delay, he signaled for his companions and dogs, his two hounds, Bran and Skolan. He instantly gave chase with no other arms than his sword, Manelona, and accompanied only by his two dogs, and before the fenny knew of his absence, he had left Allen of the green slopes far behind. The chase turned northwards and though the hounds kept close to the doe, the chief kept quite as close to the hounds the whole way, and so they continued without rest or pause till they reached Schliff Cullen far in the north. Here the doe made a sudden turn and disappeared, and what direction she took, whether east or west, Finn knew not, for he never caught sight of her after, and he marveled much that any doe in the world should be able to lead Bran and Skolan so long a chase, and escape from them in the end. Meantime they kept on searching, Finn taking one side of the hill and the dogs another, so that he was at last left quite alone. While he was wandering about the hill and whistling for his hounds, he heard the plaintive cry of a woman at no great distance, and turning his steps towards the place he saw a lady sitting on the brink of a little lake weeping as if her heart would break. Never before did the chieftain see a maiden so lovely. The rose color of her cheeks was heightened by her grief. Her lips were like ready-quicken berries. The delicate blossom of the apple tree was not more white than her neck. Her hair fell in heavy golden ringlets on her shoulders, and as she looked up at the chief beam like stars on a frosty night, Finn accostled her and, seeing that she ceased her weeping for a moment, he asked her had she seen his two hounds pass that way. I have not seen thy hounds, she replied. Nor have I been at all concerned in the chase. For alas, there is something that troubles me more nearly, a misadventure that has caused me great sorrow. And as she spoke these words, she burst out weeping and sobbing more bitterly than before. Finn was greatly moved at this, so much so that he quite forgot all about his hounds and his own troubles, and he asked her, what is the cause of this great grief, gentle lady? Has death robbed you of your husband or your child, or what other evil has befallen you? I am much concerned to see a lady in such distress, and I wish you to tell me if anything can be done to lighten your sorrow or to remove the cause of it. She replied, I have a precious gold ring on my finger which I prize beyond anything in the world, and it has fallen for me into the water. I saw it roll down the steep slope at the bottom till it went quite out of my sight. This is the cause of my sorrow, and thou canst remedy the mishap at Bellwilt. The fenny are sworn never to refuse help to a woman in distress, and I now put on thee those geysa, i.e. I solemnly adjure thee, that true heroes dare not break through, to search for the ring and cease not till thou find it and restore it to me. Though the chief had at the moment no inclination to swim, he could not refuse a prayer urged in this manner, so he plunged in without a moment's hesitation and examined the lake on all sides, diving and searching into every nook and cranny at the bottom. After swimming in this manner three times round and round the lake he found the ring at last, and approaching the lady, he handed it to her from the water. The moment she got it she sprang into her eyes, and, diving down, disappeared in an instant. The chief, wondering greatly at the strange behavior, stepped forth from the water, but as soon as his feet had touched the dry land he lost all his strength, and fell on the brink a withered gray old man, shrunken up and trembling all over with weakness. He sat him down in woeful plight, and soon his hounds came up. They looked at him wistfully and sniffed and whined around him, and around the lake, searching in vain for the master. On that day the Finney were assembled in the banquet hall of the Palace of Allen, some feasting and drinking, some playing chess, and others listening to the sweet music of the Harpers. While all were in this wise, pleasantly engaged, Kylta Macronan stood up in the midst and said in the hearing of all, I have observed, friends, that our master and king, Fin, the son of Kamal, has not been amongst today, as is his want, and I wish to know whether he is gone. This speech caused a sudden alarm amongst us, for no one knew ought of the chief, or was aware till that moment that he was absent at all, and we knew not wherefore he had disappeared or whether he had gone. In the midst of our anxious tumult the envious and foul-mouthed Conan Mall stood up and said I have never heard sweeter music than your words, Kylta. The Finney are now about to seek their king, and my only wish is that their quest may last for a whole year and that it may prove a vain search in the end. Be not cast down, however, O Finney. If you should fail to find the son of Kamal, you will not be so ill-off as you think, for I will undertake to be your king from this time forth. Though we were at the time more inclined to be sad than mirthful, being weighed down with much anxiety, we could not help laughing when we heard the loud, foolish talk of Conan Mall, but we took no further notice of him. Inquiring now from the lesser people about the palace, we found that the chief and his two dogs had followed a doe northwards. So having bustered a strong party of the Finney, we started in pursuit. Kylta and I took to lead, the rest keeping close behind, and in this order we followed the track, never taking rest or slackening speed till we reached Schliff Cullen. We began to search around the hill, hoping to find the chief himself or some person who might give us tidings of him. After wandering among breaks and rough rocky places, we at last despised a gray-headed old man sitting on the brink of a lake. I went up to him to ask a question followed by the rest of the Finney. At first I thought he might be a fisherman who had come up from the plains to fish, but when we came near him he seemed so wretched an old creature, all shriveled up, with the skin hanging in wrinkles over the points of his bones, that I felt quite sure he was not a fisherman and that he was reduced to that state more by sickness and want than by old age. I asked the poor man if he had seen a noble looking hero pass that way, with two hounds chasing a dill. He never answered a word, neither did he stir from where he sat or even look up, but at the question his head sank on his breast and his lens shook all over as with palsy. Then he fell into a sudden fit of grief, wringing his hands and uttering feeble cries of woe. We sued them and used him gently for a time, hoping he might speak at last, but to no purpose, for he still kept silent. Then at last growing impatient and thinking that this might be a mere headstrong humor, we drew our swords and threatened him with instant death if he did not at once tell us all he knew of the chief and his hounds, for we had felt sure he had seen them. But he only lamented the more and still answered nothing. At last, after this had gone on for some time, and when we were about to leave him, he beckoned to Kylta Macronan, and when Kylta had come near, the old man whispered into his ear the dreadful secret, and then we all came to know the truth. When we found that the withered old man was no other than our beloved king Finn himself, we uttered three shouts of lamentation and anger, so loud and prolonged, that the foxes and badgers rushed affrighted from Dens in the hollows of the mountain. Conan now stepped forward, looking very fierce, and unsheathing his sword with mighty bluster, he began in a loud voice to revile Finn in the fanny with the foulest language he could think of, and he ended by saying that he meant to slay the king that moment. Now, oh Finn McCommel, I would certainly strike off your head, for you were the man that never gave me credit for valor or praised my noble deeds in battle. Ever since your father, Commel of the host, was slain on the field of Naka by the clan Morna of the Golden Shields, you have been our bitter foe, and it is against your will that any of us are now alive. I am very glad to see you, Finn McCommel, brought down to what you now are, and I only wish that the rest of the clan Baskin were like you. Then should I very soon make short work of them all, and joyful to me would be the task of raising a great car into their memory. To which I begin with great scorn. It is not worth while drawing a sword to punish the Conan Mall, vain and foolish boaster as thou art. And besides, we have at present something else to think of. But if it were not for the trouble that now lies heavy on us, on account of our king, I would of a certainty chastise thee by breaking all the bones of thy mouth with my fists. Seize, Oscar, return Conan and avoid still lotter than before. Seize your foolish talk. It is actions and not words that prove a man, and as to the noble war-like deeds done in past times by the Fenny, it was by the clan Morna they were performed, and not by the chicken-hearted clan Baskin. The fiery Oscar could bear this no longer. He rushed towards Conan Mall, but Conan, terrified at his vengeful look, ran in amongst the Fenny with great outcry, beseeching them to save him from the rage of Oscar. We strayed away in front of the king-hero and checked him in his headlong career, and after much ado we soothed his anger and made peace between him and Conan. When quietness was restored, Kylta asked Fen how this dread evil had befallen him, who was the enchanter, and whether there was any hope of restoring him to his own shape. Fen told him that it was the daughter of Kulin the Smith who had transformed him by her spells, and then he recounted how she had lured him when he came forth. He was turned into a weathered old man. We now made a framework litter of slender poles, and placing our king on it, we lifted him tenderly on our shoulders. And turning from the lake, we marched slowly uphill till we came to the fairy palace of Shlif Kalin, where we knew the daughter of Kulin had her dwelling deep underground. Here we set him down, and the whole troop began at once to dig, determined to find the enchanteress in her cave vengeance on her if she did not restore her chief. For three days and three nights we dug without a moment's rest or pause, till at length we reached her hollow dwelling when she affrighted at the tumult at the vengeful look of the heroes, suddenly started forth from the cave and stood before us. She held in her hand a drinking horn of red gold which was meant for the king, yet she appeared unwilling and held it back, notwithstanding the threatening looks of the fenny. But happening to cast her eyes on the graceful and manly youth Oscar, she was moved with such admiration and love for him that she wavered no longer, but placed the fairy drinking horn in the hands of the king. No sooner had he drunk from it than his own shape and features returned, save only that his hair remained of a silvery gray. When we gazed on our chief in his own graceful and manly form we were all pleased with the soft silvery hue of the gray hairs. And, though the enchantress appeared ready to restore this also, Fen himself told her that it pleased him as it pleased others and that he chose to remain gray for the rest of his life. When the king had drunk from the horn he passed it to McGrath, who drank from it in like manner and gave it to Daring. Daring, after drinking, was about to hand it to the rest when it gave a sudden twist out of his hand and darted into the loose earth at our feet where it sank into the ground. We ran at once to recover it, but, though we churned up the earth deeply all around, we were not able to find the drinking horn. This was a disappointment that vexed us exceedingly. For if we had all drunk from it we should have been gifted with a foreknowledge of future events. A growth of slender twigs grew up afterwards over the spot where it sank into the ground, and this little thicket is still gifted with a part of the virtue of the one who looks on it in the morning fasting, will know in a moment all things that are to happen that day. So ended the chase of Shlif Kalin. And in this wise it came to pass that Finn's hair was turned in one day from golden yellow to silvery gray. End of Section 82 This recording is in the public domain. Section 83 of England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Devorah Allen The World's Story Volume 10 England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales Edited by Ava March-Tappan Section 83 The Story of St. Patrick 5th Century by Patrick Weston Joyce When Patrick was a boy of 16 he was, as we are told by himself in his writings taken captive and brought to Ireland. This was about the year 403. He was sold as a slave to a certain rich man named Milko who employed him to herd sheep and swine on the slopes of Slemish Mountain in the present county Antrim. Here he spent six years of his life. If he felt at first heartbroken and miserably lonely as no doubt he did he soon recovered himself and made nothing of the hardships he endured on the bleak hillside. For in his solitude his mind was turned to God and every spare moment was given up to devotions. He tells us in his own earnest and beautiful words I was daily employed tending flocks and I prayed frequently during the day and the love of God was more and more encendled in my heart. My fear and faith were increased and my spirit was stirred so much so that in a single day I poured out my prayers a hundred times and nearly as often in the night. Nay, even in the woods and mountains I remained and rose before the dawn to my prayer in frost and snow and rain. Neither did I suffer any injury from it nor did I yield to any slothfulness such I now experience for the spirit of the Lord was fervent within me. But he stood alone in the little world of light and holiness for his master was a pagan and though the people he mixed with were bright and lovable they too were all pagans grossly superstitious but beyond that with little idea of religion of any kind. At the end of six years of slavery Patrick escaped through many hardships and dangers to his home and family. During his residence in Ireland he had become familiar with the language of the people and the memory of the pagan darkness in which they lived haunted him day and night so that he formed the resolution to devote his life to their conversion. His steadfast will was shown even at this early period by the manner in which he set about preparing himself for his noble work. He first studied great diligence for about four years in the great monastic school of Saint Martin of Tours and subsequently under Saint Germain of Oxer for about the same length of time after which he continued his preparations in an island near the Italian coast and elsewhere till he was ready to begin his mission. During all this time his thoughts were ever turning lovingly to Ireland and he had dreams and visions about it. Once he was named as he tells us that a man from Ireland came to him and gave him a letter which began with the words the voice of the Irish. Whilst I was reading the letter he goes on to say I imagined at the moment that I heard the voices of many who were near the wood of Folklut which is beside the western ocean crying out as if with one voice we entreat the oh holy youth to come and still walk amongst us and I was exceedingly reflected in my heart and could read no more but quickly awoke. Having received authority and benediction from Pope Celestine he set out for Ireland. On his way through Gaul news came of the death of Palladius and as this left Ireland without a bishop Patrick was consecrated bishop in Gaul by a certain holy prelate named Amator. Embarking for Ireland he landed on the Wicklow coast but having been expelled like his predecessor he sailed northwards and finally disembarked with his companions at Lecail in the present county down. Daico the chief of the district thinking they were pirates hastily armed his followers and sallied forth to expel them but when they appeared in view he was so struck by their calm and dignified demeanor that instead of attacking he saluted them respectfully and invited them to his house. Here Patrick announced his mission and explained his doctrine and Daico and his whole family became Christians and were baptized the first of the Irish converted by St. Patrick. As there was no church the chief presented him with a saval or barn for divine service on the side of which a monastery was subsequently erected in honour of the saint which for many ages was held in great veneration and the memory of the happy event is preserved to this day in the name of the little village of Saul near down Patrick. He remained in this neighborhood for some time and the people following the example of the chief listened to his preaching and were baptized in great numbers. St. Patrick adopted from the very beginning a bold and courageous plan of preaching the gospel in Ireland. He always made straight for the palaces and other great houses and began by attempting to convert the kings and chiefs. He was well aware of the veneration of the clansmen for their ruling families and he knew that once the king had become a Christian the people would soon follow. He had experienced the success of this plan in Saul and now he came to the bold resolution to go to Tara and present himself before King Legeur and his court. Bidding farewell to his friend Daico held southward to the mouth of the boine whence he set out on foot for Tara with his companions. Soon after leaving the boat night fell on them and they were hospitably entertained at the house of a chief whom the saint converted with his whole family. One of the children a youth to whom Patrick gave the name of Benin or Benignus from his gentle disposition became so attached to him that he insisted on going along with him Thence forward Benin was Patrick's constant companion and beloved disciple and after the death of his master he succeeded him as Archbishop of Armagh. The saint and his little company arrived at the hill of Slane on Easter Eve A.D. 433 Here he prepared to celebrate the festival and towards nightfall as was then the custom he lighted the pascal fire on the top of the hill It so happened that at this very time the king and his nobles were celebrating a festival of some kind at Tara and the attendants were about to light a great fire on the hill which was part of the ceremonial Now there was a law that while this fire was burning no other should be kindled in the country all round on pain of death and accordingly when the king and his courtiers saw the fire ablaze on the hill of Slane nine miles off they were much astonished at such an open violation of the law The monarch instantly called his druids and questioned them about it and they said if that fire which we now see be not extinguished tonight it will never be extinguished but will overtop all our fires and he that has kindled it will overturn thy kingdom whereupon the king in great wrath instantly set out in his chariot with a small retinue nine chariots in all Slane he summoned the strangers to his presence he had commanded that none should rise up to show them respect but when they presented themselves one of the courtiers, Eric the son of Dago struck with the saint's commanding appearance rose from his seat and saluted him this Eric was converted and became afterwards bishop of Slane and to this day there is on the bank of the boine near Slane a little ruined oratory called from him Saint Eric's Hermitage the result of this interview was what Saint Patrick most earnestly desired he was directed to appear next day at Tara and give an account of his proceedings before the assembled court on the summit of the hill at Slane at the spot where Patrick lighted his pascal fire there are still the ruins of a monastery erected in commemoration of the event the next day was Easter Sunday early in the morning Patrick and his companions set out for the palace and on their way they chanted a hymn in the native tongue an invocation for protection against the dangers and treachery by which they were beset for they had heard that persons were lying in wait to slay them this noble and beautiful hymn was long held in great veneration by the people of this country and we still possess copies of it in a very old dialect of the Irish language in the history of the spread of Christianity it would be difficult to find a more singular and impressive scene than was presented at the court of King Ligaire on that memorable Easter morning Patrick was robed in white as were also his companions he wore his miter and carried his crozier in his hand and when he presented himself before the assembly Dubtha, Ligaire's chief poet rose to welcome him contrary to the express commands of the King the saint, all aflame with zeal and unawed by the presence of King in court explained to the assembly the leading points of the Christian doctrine and silenced the King's druids in argument Dubtha became a convert and thenceforward devoted his poetical talents to the service of God and Ligaire gave permission to the strange missionaries to preach their doctrines throughout his dominions the King himself however was not converted and for the remaining 30 years of his life he remained an unbeliever while the paganism of the whole country was rapidly going down before the fiery energy of the great missionary Patrick next proceeded to Tilden where during the celebration of the national games he preached for a week to the assembled multitudes making many converts among whom was Conal Golben brother to King Ligaire the ancestor of the O'Donnells we find him soon afterwards making for the plain where stood the great national idol Krum Kruak with the 12 lesser idols all of which he destroyed about the year 438 with the concurrence of King Ligaire he undertook the task of revising the Brehan law he was aided by eight others among them King Ligaire himself and at the end of three years this committee of nine produced a new code free from all pagan customs and ordinances which was ever after known as Cain Patrick or Patrick's Law this law book which is also called Sankis Moor has been lately translated and published in his journey through Conal he met the two daughters of King Ligaire Ethnia the Fair and Fidelma the Ready near the palace of Krogan where they lived at that time in fosterage with their two druid tutors they had come out one morning at sunrise to wash their hands in a certain spring well as was their custom and were greatly astonished to find Patrick and his companions at the well with books in their hands chanting a hymn having never seen persons in that garb before the virgins thought at first that they were beings from the shee or fairy hills but when the first surprise was over they fell into conversation with them and inquired when they had come and Patrick gently replied it were better for you to confess to our true God than to inquire concerning our race they eagerly asked many questions about God, his dwelling place whether in the sea in rivers, in mountainous places or in valleys how knowledge of him was to be obtained how he was to be found seen and loved in inquiries of a like nature the saint answered all their questions and explained the leading points of the faith and the virgins were immediately baptized and consecrated to the service of religion on the approach of Lent he retired to the mountain which has ever since borne his name Croag Patrick or Patrick's Hill where he spent some time in fasting and prayer about this time AD 449 the seven sons of Amalgade king of Canat were holding a meeting in Tirali to which Patrick repaired he expounded his doctrines to the Wondering Assembly and the seven princes with 12,000 persons were baptized after spending seven years in Canat he visited successively Ulster, Leinster and Monster in each of which he preached for several years soon after entering Leinster he converted at the palace beside Nass where the Leinster kings then resided the two princes Elan and Oliol sons of King Dunling who both afterwards succeeded to the throne of their father and at Cashel the seat of the kings of Monster he was met by the king Angus the son of Natfri who conducted him into the palace on the rock with the greatest reverence and was at once baptized wherever Saint Patrick went he founded churches and left them in charge of his disciples in his various journeys he encountered many dangers and met with numerous temporary repulses but his courage and resolution never wavered and success attended his efforts in almost every part of his wonderful career he founded the sea of Armagh about the year 455 and made it the head sea of all Ireland the greater part of the country was now filled with Christians and with churches and the mission of the venerable apostle was drawing to a close he was seized with his death illness in Saul, the scene of his first triumph and he breathed his last on the 17th of March in or about the year 465 in the 78th year of his age the news of his death was the signal for universal mourning from the remotest districts of the island clergy and laity turned their steps towards the little village of Saul to pay the last tribute of love and respect to their great master they celebrated the obsequies for 12 days and nights without interruption joining in the ceremonies as they arrived in succession and in the language of one of his biographers the blaze of myriads of torches made the whole time appear like one continuous day he was buried with great solemnity at Don de Lethglus the old residence of the princes of Eulidia and the name in the altered form of Don Patrick commemorates to all time the saint's place of interment end of section 83 section 84 of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information if you want to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Piotr Natter the world's story volume 10 England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales edited by Eva Marge-Tappan section 84 the island of saints and scholars 7th and 8th centuries by Patrick Weston Joyce in ancient Ireland religion and education went hand in hand so that in tracing their history it is impossible to separate them by far the greatest part of the education of the country was carried on by or under the direction of priests and monks who always combined religious with secular teaching from the middle of the 6th century schools rapidly arose all over the country most of them in connection with monasteries some had very large numbers of students for instance we are told that there were 3000 under Saint Finan at Clonart and some other schools such as Bangor had as many a few of the students resided in the college such as sons of kings and chiefs and those who were literary foster children of the professors but the most usual arrangement was that each student lived in a little hut of wood and sods built by himself or perhaps two or more joined and built a more commodious house for common use whole streets of these little houses surrounded the monastery the huts of the scholars of Saint Movi of Glasnevin near Dublin extended along the banks of the river Tolka near the present bridge at stated times the students came forth in crowds to hear the lectures of the professors which were often given in the open air in all the more important schools there were students from foreign lands the majority were from Great Britain from which they came in fleet loads as Aldehelm an English bishop of the year 705 expressed it numbers also came from the continent among whom were some princes Altrit, king of Northumbria and Dagobert the second king of France both when in exile in the 7th century found in asylum and were educated in Ireland and others of Leichrang might be named we get some idea of the numbers of foreigners from the words of Angus de Caldee a British writer of the 9th century who mentions by name many of the Romans, Gauls, Germans, Britons and even Egyptians all of whom died in Ireland Venerable Bede describing the ravages of the yellow plague in 664 says quote this pestilence did no less harm in the island of Ireland many of the nobility and of the lower ranks of the English nation were there at that time and some of them devoted themselves to the monastic life others chose to apply themselves to study the Scots willingly received them all and took care to supply them with food as also to furnish them with books to read and their teaching all gratis end quote in the course of 3 or 4 centuries from the time of Saint Patrick Ireland became the most learned country in Europe and it came to be known by the name now so familiar to us Insula Sanctorum at Doctorum the island of saints and scholars in these great seminaries all branches of knowledge then known were taught they were in fact the models of our present universities and besides those persons preparing for a religious life great numbers of young men both native and foreign the sons of kings, chiefs and others attended them to get a good general education laymen who distinguished themselves as scholars were often employed as professors in the monastic schools one of the most eminent of the professors in the College of Monaster boys was Flan of the Monastery a layman of the 11th century several of whose poems as well as his book of annals are preserved but some few schools were purely lay and professional for law, medicine, poetry or literature and these were taught generally by laymen at these colleges whether clerical or lay they had various degrees as there are in modern universities the highest was that of olive or doctor and there were olives of the several professions so that a man might be an olive poet an olive historian an olive builder etc just as we have now doctors of law, medicine literature and music the full course for an olive was 12 years the lower degrees had shorter periods men of learning were held in great estimation and much honored they had many valuable allowances and privileges and an olive set at table next to the king or chief great number of Irish men went to teach and to preach the gospel in Great Britain, Wales and Scotland the Picts of Scotland who then occupied the greatest part of the country were converted by Saint Columba and his monks from Iona and the whole western coasts of England and Wales abound in memorials of Irish missionaries the whole Indisfarne in Northumbria which became so illustrious in after ages was founded in 634 by Aiden and Irish monk from Iona and for 30 years after its foundation it was governed by him and by two other Irish bishops Finnan and Coleman in succession so we see that Mr. Lecky had good reason for his statement that England owed a great part of her Christianity to Irish monks who laboured among her people before the arrival of Augustine end quote whole crowds of ardent and learned Irish men travelled to the continent spreading Christianity and general knowledge among people ten times more rude and dangerous in those days than the inhabitants of these islands what, says Eric a well-known French writer of the 9th century what shall I say of Ireland who despising the dangers of the deep is migrating almost her whole train of philosophers to our coasts Irish professors and teachers were in those times held in such estimation that they were employed in most of the schools and colleges of Great Britain and the continent and Irish teachers of music were quite as eminent and as much sought after as those of literature and philosophy we know that Charlemagne who was crowned Emperor of the West AD 800 Irish men from Ireland in great respect and often invited them as guests to his table and half a century later Johannes Scottus Erigena i.e. John the Irish Scott the greatest scholar of his day was on terms of affectionate intimacy with Charles the Bold King of France to this day in many towns of France, Germany, Switzerland and Italy Irish men are venerated as patron saints nay they found their way even to Iceland for we have the best authority for the statement that when the Norwegians first arrived at that island they found their Irish books bells, cross-ears and other traces of Irish missionaries for four or five hundred years after the time of Saint Patrick the monasteries were unmolested and learning was cultivated within their walls in the 9th and 10th and the beginning of the 11th century science and art Catholic language and learning of every kind were brought to their highest state of perfection but a change for the worse had set in the Danish inroads broke up most of the schools and threw everything into disorder then the monasteries were no longer the quiet and safe asylums they had been they became indeed rather more dangerous than other places so much that the Danes hate them and learning and art gradually declined in Ireland there was a revival in the time of Brian Borough but this too was arrested by the troubles of the Anglo-Norman invasion End of Section 84 Section 85 of England, Scotland Ireland and Wales Read for LibriVox.org by Sonya This is one of the most famous round towers that are scattered through Ireland but the generally accepted explanation is that they were built during the 9th and 10th centuries as places of refuge from marauding bands of Viking pirates the one shown in the illustration is known as O'Rourke's Tower and is thought to have been built early in the 10th century it has lost its roof but is even now 62 feet high the walls being nearly 4 feet thick are currently located as a watch tower for it commanded long stretches of the river in both directions and also an ancient causeway that led across the bog on the conult side as has been said it was large and roomy enough to contain all the officiating priests of Clon McNoise with their pixies, vestments and books and though the pagan Dane or the wild monster men might rush on in rapid in-road yet the solitary watcher on the tower is being and collect within the protecting pillar all holy men and things until the tyranny was over-past the great cross is made of a single stone on it are the following inscriptions a prayer for Flam son of Malsichlen and a prayer for Coleman who made this cross on the king Flam there are also sculptures in one of them St. Kieran stands with a hammer in one hand and a mallet in the other that he was the founder of Clon McNoise other sculptures represent scenes in the passion of our Saviour End of Section 85 this recording is in the public domain Section 86 of England Scotland, Ireland and Wales read for LibriVox.org by Monika MC The Book of Kells 7th Century by Charles Johnston and Carita Spencer at the beginning it was almost impossible to get a sufficient supply of books for the new monasteries as the copying of manuscripts was a slow meta such continental monasteries as those founded by Colombanos at Luxei, Fontaine and Bobbiot got the supply of books from the Irish schools and up to the 10th century it was the custom of the Irish teachers to carry books from their island home to the schools on the continent there are numerous instances of donations of manuscripts made by Irish scholars to foreign schools thus in 823 a learnt Irishman gave a number of books to the Monastery of Bobbiot two of these may still be seen in the Ambrosian Library at Milan not long after in 841 Marcus, an Irish Bishop who was returning with his nephew from a pilgrimage to Rome visited the Monastery of St. Gall in Switzerland he was so charmed with the few that he remained there for the rest of his life and out of gratitude for the hospitality he received willed his books to the Monastery as all books at this time were written by hand Penmanship was one of the most cultivated arts and was carried to a wonderful degree of perfection the scribes who were generally but not invariably monks were held in great respect by the people the Irish books were not only finely written but also ornamented in a fashion which was early perfected in Ireland first the initial letters were made larger, more elaborate and more beautiful then they were surrounded with dots of color and finally with delicately interlaced scroll work which was sometimes continued along the margin of the page degraded head pieces and tail pieces were added in which leaves, the figures of animals and serpents and sometimes even portraits of signs were mingled with the interlaced scroll work many colors were used red, green, pink, blue and yellow for instance are employed in the illumination of the book of Cales so well were these colors made that after 12 centuries they have lost none of their original brillancy the book of Cales was finished before the end of the 7th century and is without doubt the most perfect and most beautiful manuscript in the world it is a Latin manuscript of the gospels the book of Armagh finished in 807 contains the confession of St. Patrick the epistle to Caroticus and a life of the apostle of Ireland the book of Duro written about the same time as the book of Cales and the book of Macdonan written shortly after the book of Armagh show the same admirable workmanship end of section 86 this recording is in the public domain section 87 of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Adrian Stevens the world's story volume 10 England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales edited by Eva March Tappan section 87 How Brian Borough held the Ford of Tribute 941 by E. S. Brooks into that picturesque Russian-filled section of Ireland now known as County Clare where over rocks and boulders the Shannon noblest of Irish rivers rushes down past Killaloe and Castle Connell to Limerick and the Sea their road won fair summer morning many, many years ago a young Irish lad the skirt of his party-coloured len or kilt was richly embroidered and fringed with gold close fitting and silver-trimmed was open at the throat displaying the embroidered len and the torque or twisted colour of gold about his sturdy neck while the purple scarf held the jacket at the waist a gleaming golden brooch secured the long-played brat or shawl that dropped from his left shoulder broad bracelets encircled his bear and curiously tattooed arms and from an odd-looking golden spiral at the back of his head his thick and dark red hair fell in flowing ringlets upon his broad shoulders raw-high shoes covered his feet and his bronze shield and short war axe hung conveniently from his saddle of skins a strong guard of pikemen and gallow-glasses or heavily armed footmen followed at his ponies heels and seemed an escort worthy a king's son a strong-limbed cleanly built lad of fifteen was this sturdy young horseman who now rode down the Athna Baruma or Ford of Tribute just above the rapids of Shannon near the town of Killaloe and as he reigned in his pony he turned and bade his herald Kogaran sound the trumpet blast that should announce to the clan of Kass the return from his years of fosterage of the young flythe or chieftain, Brian the son of Kennedy king of Thamond but ere the strong-lunged Kogaran could wind his horn the hearts of all the company grew numb with fear as across the water the low clear strains of a warning song sounded from the haunted grey stone the mystic rock of Caracly that overhung the trembling rapids quote never yet for fear or foe by the Ford of Killaloe stooped the crests of heroes free sons of Kass by Caracly falls the arm that smites the foe by the Ford of Killaloe chilled the heart that boundeth free by the rock of Caracly he who knows not fear of foe fears the Ford of Killaloe fears the voice that chance his dre from the rock of Caracly end quote young Brian was full of the superstition of his day superstition that even yet lives amid the simple peasantry of Ireland and peoples, rocks and woods and streams with good and evil spirits fairies, sprites and banshees and no real native Irish lad could fail to tremble before the mysterious song sorely troubled he turned to Coggeran inquiringly and that faithful retainer said in a rather shaky voice tis your warning song O noble young chief tis the voice of the banshee of our clan Aeobin, the Wraith of Caracly just then from behind the haunted grey rock a fair young girl appeared tripping lightly across the large stepping stones that furnished the only means of crossing the Ford of Killaloe see, see, said Coggeran grasping his young lord's arm she comes for the tis thy doom, O master the fiend of Caracly so fair a fiend should bring me nought of grief, said young Brian stoutly enough, though it must be confessed his heart beat fast and loud O spirit of the waters, he exclaimed O banshee of clan Cass why thus early in his life dost thou come to summon the son of Kennedy the king the young girl turned startled eyes upon the group of armed and warlike men and grasping the skirt of her white and purple then turned as if to flee when Coggeran with a loud laugh cried out now, fool and double fool am I fit brother to citric the blind and the black king of Dublin why, tis no banshee, O noble young chief tis but thy foster sister Amor, the daughter of Conor Amor the golden head nay, is it so? since an honest beat praised said Brian, greatly relieved cross to us maiden cross to us, he said fear nothing, tis but Brian, thy foster brother returning to his father's home the girl swiftly crossed the ford and bowed her golden head in a vassals welcome to the young lord welcome home, O brother, she said even now, my lord, thy father awaits the sound of thy horn as he sits in the great seat beneath his kingly shield and I and thou, maiden, said Brian gaily thou must need's lurk behind the haunted rock of Caracly to freeze the heart of young Brian at his homecoming with thy banshee song Amor of the golden hair laughed a ringing laugh says thou so, brother, she said does the scourge of the Danes shrink thus at a maiden's voice? who calls me the scourge of the Danes? asked Brian so across the border do they say that the maidens of King Calhann's court call the boy Brian, the son of Kennedy the girl made answer who faces the Danes, my sister tens no tender foe, said Brian and the court of the king of Casual is no ladies' hall in these heart-striking times but wind thy horn, Coggaran and cross we the ford to greet the king, my father loud and clear the herald's call rose above the rush of the rapids and as the boy and his followers crossed the ford, the gates the palace or Dunn of King Kennedy of Thommant were flung open and the band of welcomeers headed by Mahon, Brian's eldest brother rode out to greet the lad nine hundred years ago the tribe of Cas was one of the most powerful of the many Irish clans the whole of Thommant or North Munster was under their sway and from them, say the old records it was never lawful to levy rent or tribute or pledge or hostage or foster ship fees so strong and free were they when the clans of Munster gathered for battle it was the right of the clan of Cas to lead in the attack and to guard the rear when returning from any invasion it gave kings to the throne of Munster and valiant leaders to warfare with the Danes who in the tenth century poured their hosts into Ireland conquering and destroying in the year nine forty-eight in which our sketch opens the head of this powerful clan was Kennedy or Kennedy King of Thommant his son Brian had in accordance with an old Irish custom passed his boyhood in fosterage at the court of Callaghan King of Cashell in East Munster brought up amid warlike scenes where battles with the Danish invaders were a frequent occurrence young Brian had now, at fifteen completed the years of his foster ship and was a lad of strong and dauntless courage cool and clear-headed and a firm foe of Ireland's scourge the fierce Dub Gale or Black Gentiles as the Danes were called the feast of welcome was over the bards had sung their heroic songs to the accompaniment of the cruot or harp the fool had played his pranks and the juggler his tricks and the chief bard who was expected to be familiar with more than seven times fifty stories great and small had given the best from his list and as they sat thus in the cum-tech or great hall of the long low-roofed house of Hugh-Noak that scarcely rose above the stout earth and ramparts that defended it swift messengers came bearing news of a great gathering of Danes for the ravaging of Munster and the especial plundering of the clan of Cas thou has come in right-fitting time oh son said Kennedy the King here is need of strong arms how say ye noble lords and worthy chieftains dare we face in fight this so great a host but as chiefs and councillors were discussing the King's question advising fight or flight as they deemed wisest young Brian sprung into the assembly wore axe in hand what father's of can-class he cried all aflame with excitement will ye stoop to parley with hard-hearted pirates ye who never brooked injustice or tyranny from any King of all the Kings of Arryn ye who never yielded even the leveret of a hair in tribute to Lynester man or Dane tis for the can of class to demand tribute not to pay it summon our vassals to war place me, oh King, my father here at the Ford of the tribute and make me test of the lessons of my foster ship know ye not how the boy champion Cuchelin of Ulster held the fort for five long days against all the hosts of Connaut what boy hath done boy may do death can come but once the lads impetuous words fired the whole assembly the gillies and retainers caught up the cry and with the wild enthusiasm that has marked the quick-hearted Irishman from Brian's day to this they all, so says the record crossed the ground and gave a terrible shout beacon fires blazed from Cairn and Hilltop and from the four points from north and south and east and west came the men of Thomond rallying around their chieftains on the banks of Shannon with terrible ferocity the Danish hosts fell upon Ireland from Dublin to Cork the coast swarmed with swordsmen across the fairfields north and Tipperary the smooth-plained grassy land of Arryn from Shannon to the sea the kings and chieftains of Ireland gathered to withstand the shock of the invaders their chief blow was struck at Brocken's break in County Meath and on that field, says the old Irish record fell the kings and chieftains the heirs to the crown and the royal princes of Arryn there fell Kennedy, the king and his stalwart sons but at the Ford of tribute Brian, the boy chieftain kept his post and hurled back again and again the Danes of Limerick as they swarmed up the valley of the Shannon to support their countrymen on the plains of Meath the haunted grey stone of Caracly from which Brian had heard the song of the supposed Banshee rose sharp and bold above the rushing waters and around it Brian and his followers stood at bay battling against the Danish hosts ill luck was it for the foreigner says the record when that youth was born Brian, the son of Kennedy in the very midst of the stubborn fight at the Ford and around from a jutting point of the rock of Caracly a light shallop came speeding down the rapids in the prow stood a female figure all in white from the gleaming golden lan or crescent that held her flowing veil to the hem of her gracefully falling robe and above the din of the strife a clear voice sang quote first to face the foreign foe first to strike the battle blow last to turn from triumph back last to leave the battle's wreck clan of Cass shall victors be when they fight at Caracly end quote it was of course only brave young Eimer of the golden hare bringing fresh arms in her shallot to Brian and his fighting men but as the sun bursting through the clouds flashed full upon the shining war axe which she held aloft the superstitious stains saw in the floating figure the white lady of the rapids the banshee the fairy guardian of the clan of Cass believing therefore that they could not prevail against her powerful aid they turned and fled in dismay from the flowing river and the haunted rock but fast upon young Brian's victory came the tearful news of the battle of Brocken's break and the defeat of the Irish kings of all the brave lads family only his eldest brother Mahon escaped from that fatal field and now he reigned in place of Kennedy his father as king of Thomond but the victorious Danes overran all southern Ireland and the brothers Mahon and Brian found they could not successfully face in open field the hosts of their invaders so these two stout able valiant pillars these two fierce lacerating magnificent heroes as the brothers were called and wordy old Irish record left their mud-walled fortress palace by the Shannon and with all their people and all their chattels went deep into the forests of Cracklow and the rocky fastnesses of the county Clare and there they lived the life of robber chieftains harassing and plundering the Danes of Limerick and their recurrent Irish allies and guarding against frequent surprise and attack of the invaders and unsettled a life was terribly exhausting and at length each party of them became tired of the other and finally King Mahon made peace with the Danes of Limerick but Brian the brave would make no truce with a hated foe tell my brother he said when messengers brought him word of Mahon's treaty that Brian the son of Kennedy knows no peace with foreign invaders though all others yield and are silent yet will I never and with this defiance the boy chieftain and the young champions of the tribe of Cass went deeper into the woods and fastnesses of county Clare and for months kept up a fierce guerrilla warfare the Danish tyrants knew neither peace nor rest from his swift and sudden attacks much booty of satins and silken cloths both scarlet and green pleasing jewels and saddles beautiful and foreign did they lose to this active young chieftain a much tribute of cows and hogs and other possessions did he force from them so dauntless and outlaw did he become that his name struck terror from Galway Bay to the banks of Shannon and from Loft Derg to the Baron of Clare when he inflicted not evil on the foreigners in the day the quaint old record asserts he was sure to do it in the next night and when he did it not in the night he was sure to do it in the following day one chelapral day as Brian sat alone before the gloomy cave that had given him a winter shelter in the depths of the forests of Clare his quick ear well trained in woodcraft caught the sound of a light step in the thicket snatching his ever-ready spear he stood on guard and demanded who is there no answer followed his summons but as he waited and listened he heard the notes of a song low and gentle as if for his ear alone quote quote tis the banshee was the youth's first thought the guardian of our clan urged me to speed your action then he called aloud who sings of triumph Brian the heavy-hearted be no longer Brian the heavy-hearted be as thou ever art Brian the brave came the reply and through the parting thicket appeared not the dreaded vision of Aeobian the banshee but the fair young face of his foster sister Ima of the golden hair better days await thee Brian my brother she said Mahon the king bids him at Holy Isle none dared bring his message for fear of the death-dealing Danes who have circled thee with their earth-lines but what dare not I do for so gallant a foster brother with the courtesy that marked the men of even those savage times the boy chieftain knelt and kissed the hem of the daring little maidens purple robe and what wishes my brother the king O Ima of the golden hair he said knows he not that Brian has sworn never to bend his neck to the foreigner that does he know right well replied the girl but his only words to me were bid Brian my brother keep heart and keep this trist with me and the sons of Kennedy may still stand unfettered kings of Arryn so Brian kept the trist near the southern shores of Loft-Derg the Holy Isle still lies all strewn with the ruins of the seven churches that gave it this name the outlawed young chieftain met the king braving the dangers of Danish capture and death he had come unattended to meet his brother where O Brian are thy followers King Mahon inquired save the fifteen faithful men that remain to me in the caves of Oymbloit said the lad my followers rest on many a field from the mountains of Collot to the gates of Limerick for their chieftain O my brother maketh no truce with the foe thou art but a boy O Brian and like a boy thou dost talk said the king reprovingly thy pride doth make thee imprudent for what thou hast gained since spite of all thy followers lie dead gained exclaimed the young chieftain impetuously as he faced Mahon the king I have gained the right to be called true son of the can of class of ancestors who would brook no insult who would pay no tribute fee to invaders who would give no hostage and as to my trusty leechman who have fallen is it not the inheritance of the can of class to die for their honour and their homes? demanded Brian so surely it is no honour in valorous men my brother to abandon without battle or conflict their father's inheritance to Danes and traitorous kings the unyielding courage of the lad roused the elder brother to action and secretly but swiftly he gathered the chiefs of the clan for council in the Dunn of King Mahon by the Ford of Killaloe freedom for Erin and death to the Danes cried they as the voice of one man says the record again the warning beacons flamed from cairn and hilltop in the shadow of the rock of cashell the royal sun burst the banner of the ancient kings was flung to the breeze and clansmen and vassals and allies rallied beneath its folds to strike one mighty blow for the redemption of Ireland in the county of Tipperary in the midst of what is called the golden valley this remarkable rock of cashell looms up 300 feet above the surrounding plain its top even now crowned with the ruins of what were in brine's day palace and chapel turret and battlement and ancient tower beneath the rough archway of the triple ramparts at the foot of the rock and up the sharp ascent their road one day their herald of Ivor the danish king of limerick through the gateway of the palace he passed and striding into the audience hall spoke thus to Mahon the king hear now, O king, Ivor the son of citric king of limerick and sole overlord of Munster doth summon thee his vassal to give up to him the fortress of cashell to disperse thy followers to send to him at limerick bounden with chains the body of brine the outlaw and to render unto him tribute and hostage king Mahon glanced proudly out to wear upon the ramparts fluttered the flag of Ireland say to Ivor the son of citric, he said that Mahon, king of Thommond spurns his summons and will pay no tribute for his own inheritance and say thou too cried his impetuous younger brother that brine, the son of kennedy and all the men of the clan of casse prefer destruction and death rather than submit to the tyrannive pirates and the overlord ship of foreigners and Danes hear then, Mahon, king of Thommond hear thou and all thy clan the words of Ivor, the son of citric came the stern warning of the Danish herald thus says the king I will gather against thee a greater muster and hosting and I will sow ravage and destroy the can of class that there shall not be left of ye one man to guide a horse's head a horse afford and abbot or a venerable person within the four corners of Munster who shall not be utterly destroyed or brought under subjection to me Ivor the king tell thy master said Mahon the king unmoved by this terrible threat that the can of casse defy his boastful words and will show in battle which are lords of Arryn and tell thy master said his brother not bound with chains but to bind them the Danish power was strong and terrible but the action of the two valiant brothers was swift and their example was inspiring plansmen and vassals flocked to their standard and a great and warlike host gathered in old Cashelle Brian led them to battle and near a willow forest close to the present town of Tipperary the opposing forces met in battle that lasted from sunrise to midday and the sunburst banner of the ancient kings streamed victorious over a conquered field and the hosts of the Danes were routed from Tipperary to Limerick Brian pursued the flying enemy and capturing Limerick took therefrom great stores of booty and many prisoners and the queer old Irish record thus briefly tells the terrible story of young Brian's vengeance a story that fittingly shows us the cruel customs of those savage days of old days now fortunately gone forever the fort and the good town he reduced to a cloud of smoke and to red fire afterward the whole of the captives were collected on the hills of Sengal and every one that was fit for war was killed and every one that was fit for a slave was enslaved and from the day of Limerick's downfall the Star of Ireland brightened as in battle after battle Brian Borrow footnote Brian of the tribute and footnote the wise and valiant young chieftain was hailed as victor and deliverer from sea to sea upon the death of his brother Mahon in the year 976 Brian became king of Thomond of Munster and of Cachele then uniting the rival clans and clans uniting the rival clans and tribes under his sovereign rule he was crowned at Tara in the year 1000 Ardry or High King of Errin the reign of this great king of Ireland was peaceful and prosperous he built churches fostered learning made bridges and causeways and constructed a road around the coast of the whole kingdom in his palace at Kinkora near the old Dunn and his father King Kennedy by the Ford of Killaloe he dispensed a royal hospitality administered a rigid and impartial justice and so continued in prosperity for the rest of his reign having been at his death 38 years king of Munster and 15 years sovereign of all Ireland so the boy chieftain came to be king of Ireland and the story of his death is as full of interest and glory as the record of his boyish deeds for Brian grew to be an old old man and the Danes and some of the restless Irishmen whom he had brought under his sway revolted against his rule so the grand old man of 90 years led his armies out from the tree-shaded remparts of royal Kinkora and meeting the enemy on the plains of Dublin fought on Friday April the 23rd 1014 near the little fishing-station of Clontarf the last and most terrible struggle of Northmen and Gale of pagan and Christian on Irish soil it was a bloody day for Ireland but though the aged king and four of his six sons with 11,000 of his followers were slain on that fatal field the Danes were utterly routed and the battle of Clontarf freed Ireland forever the Danes and Tyranes End of Section 87 This recording is in public domain This is a plin of their soldiers and the strong castles they built made them a power in the land Throughout the 13th century Ireland was torn by the incessant struggle of Norman Barons and Irish chiefs but gradually their later comers mingled and intermarried with the natives until they became almost as Irish as the Irish themselves The Tudor monarchs reasserted England's authority over Ireland and placed the country under English law Irish chiefs were evicted from their estates and the land was given to English settlers Roman Catholics were excluded from all public offices and threatened with fine and imprisonment if they did not attend the Protestant church The result of these and other tyrannical measures was a series of rebellions that were put down with the greatest cruelty In 1641 the Irish seized the opportunity of the conflict in England between king and parliament to take a bloody vengeance for their woes The English settlers were killed or driven from the country Eight years later Cromwell landed in Ireland with 18,000 veteran soldiers and subdued the country as it had never been subdued before Under James II the Catholics were given a share in the government As a result he found warm support in Ireland after he was driven from the English throne by William of Orange In 1690 King William followed James to Ireland with his victory at the Boine that country was once more subdued Severe laws were again enacted against Catholics and the commerce and industry of the unhappy country were deliberately destroyed by a series of laws prohibiting exports and foreign trade By the end of the 18th century the limit of endurance was again reached and another revolt ensued that was put down with difficulty The only result of this uprising was the suppression of the parliament at Dublin and the formation of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland End of Section 88 This recording is in the public domain Section 89 of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales This is LibriVox Recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by April 6-0-9-0 United States of America The World's Story Volume 10 England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales Edited by Eva March Tappan Section 89 The House of the Gerald Deans by Justin H. McCarthy By the beginning of the 14th century the Normans of England had blended with the English and the Normans of Ireland had blended with the Irish England's only real authority in Ireland was over the district about Dublin known as the Pale In the effort to increase this authority and to prevent the Normans and Irish from becoming one race England passed the Statute of Kilkenny By this statute Normans were forbidden to speak the Irish language and if a Norman followed any Irish custom or even wore the Irish dress he was to forfeit his lands and suffer imprisonment if he ventured to marry an Irish woman the statute bade that his property should be forfeited and that he himself should be hanged cut down and disemboweled while yet alive the most powerful of the Norman Irish families were the Gerald Deans or Fitzgeralds of Kildare East Munster the butlers of Ormond West Munster and the Berks of Connit The story of the House of Gerald Deans is one of the most romantic in all Irish history the Gerald Deans were descended from the two brothers Maurice and William Fitzgerald who came to Ireland at the heels of Strongbow through varying fortunes at one time the whole House was nearly exterminated by McCarthy Moore they had risen to a proud position of rule in Ireland they owned all the broad lands from Maynooth to Lixna their followers swarmed everywhere bearing a G on their breast in token that they owed their parts to the Gerald Deans after Bosworth battle had placed Henry VII on the throne of Richard of Glauchester the new king was too busy with his kingdom to give much thought to Ireland the English colony was in a bad way there it was reduced to the county of Dublin and parts of Meath, Louth and Kildare the greater part of the island was entirely in the hands of Irish chieftains who exacted tribute from the English and scornfully set at naught the continued and meaningless renewals of the statutes of Kilkenny Henry I left Ireland alone he was ever content to leave the Gerald Deans control of the country unquestioned although the Gerald Deans had been so defiantly Yorkist and though not a few followers of the House had painted their own white roses red with their own blood on many an English field they were Yorkist still when Lambert Simnell came over to Ireland pretending to be the son of false fleeting perjured Clarence the Gerald Deans rallied round him with warm support and sympathy when this image of a king was swept from the throne to the kitchen Perkin Warbeck took his place claimed to be the Duke of York whom Glauchester had murdered in the tower and he too led Gerald Deans aid and maintenance Henry had now learned something of the strength of Irish disaffection in the hands of the Irish chiefs and prepared to crush it out more subtly than by the sword we have seen what the Irish parliament was like, a poor thing enough in itself but at worst containing the principles of a representative system this system Henry resolved to destroy what had passed since the Norman banners had first floated over the Irish fields and in all that time no attempt had been made to force the English laws upon the Irish sets or to interfere with the self-government of the Norman settlers now in 1494 Henry sent over Sir Edward Poynings as Lord Deputy with an army at his back to change altogether the relationship between the two islands Poynings summoned a parliament at Draghda at which the famous measure known as Poynings Act was passed this act established that all English laws should operate in Ireland and that the consent of the Privy Council of England was necessary for all acts of the Irish parliament these measures at once deprived Ireland of all claim to independent government hence forward she was to be the helpless dependent of the conquering but the loss of liberty did not destroy the Irish desire for freedom it rather gave it an additional incentive to action Ireland being thus soldered close to England Henry was content to leave the government of the country in the hands of its most powerful man all Ireland men said was not a match for the Earl of Kildare then let the Earl of Kildare govern all Ireland said Henry the 7th and gave the rule of Ireland into its hands he had been the most potent spirit in Ireland under the old system to confirm his power under the new seemed to the astute Henry the surest means of securing his alliance and the quiet dependence of Ireland his successor the 8th Henry looked on the Geraldine power with grave jealousy the control of the island was practically in the hands of the Earl of Kildare and their followers and was drifting by day farther from the control and supremacy of England what use were the statutes of Kilkenny and Poynings acts if the country was under the command of an Anglo-Irish house who defied the authority of England his jealousy of the Geraldines was fostered by Woolsey who was considerably under the influence of the House of Ormond bitter enemies of the Geraldines Gerald the 9th Earl son of Henry the 7th's deputy was summoned to England he was at once thrown into the tower and false news of his execution was sent to Dublin his son Lord Thomas Fitzgerald Silken Thomas as he was commonly called by his people from the splendor of his dress displayed no silken spirit he raised at once a desperate revolt against the king but his forces were shattered by the English artillery brought thus into Irish warfare for the first time five uncles were compelled to surrender they were sent to London to the tower where the Earl of Kildare had died of a broken heart and they were all hanged at Tibern only one of their kin a boy of twelve a son of the Earl of Kildare by his second wife escaped from the slaughter of his race to Rome to found again the fortunes of his house end of section 72 this recording is in the public domain section 90 of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales this is a LibriVox recording while LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the world's story volume 10 England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales edited by Eva March Taffin section number 90 The Geraldines by Thomas Davis The Geraldines Tis full a thousand years since mid the Tuscan vineyards bright flashed their battle-spears when Capet seized the Crown of France their iron shields were known and their sabre didn't struck terror on the banks of the Garon crossed the Downs of Hastings they spurred hard by Williamside and the grey sands of Palestine with Muslim blood they died but never then nor thence till now had falsehood or disgrace been seen to soil if it's Gerald's plume or mantle in his face The Geraldines Tis in strongbows van by lawless force as conquerors their Irish reign began and oh, through many a dark campaign they proved their prowess stern in linesters plains and monsters veils on kings in chief and cairn but noble was the cheer within the hall so rudely won in generous was the steel-gloved hand that had such a slaughter done how gay their laugh how proud their mean you'd ask no herald sign among a thousand you had known the princely Geraldine these Geraldines, these Geraldines not long are ere they breathe not long they fed on venison in Irish water sieve not often had their children been by Irish mothers nursed when from their full and genial hearts in Irish feeling burst the Irish monarch strove in vain by law by force and bribe to win from Irish thoughts and ways this more than Irish tribe for still they clung to fosterage to braion, cloak and bard what king dare say to Geraldine your Irish wife discard ye Geraldines, ye Geraldines how royally you reigned or Desmond brought and rich Keldare and English arts disdained your sword made knights your banner waved free was your bugle call by Glen's green slopes and dingles tied from Barrow's banks to Yougall what gorgeous shrines, what braion lore, what minstrel feats there were in and around Maynooth's grey keep and palace filled Adair but not for right her feasts he stayed when friend or kin were pressed and foeman fled when Kramaba bespoke your lance and rest Geraldines, ye Geraldines since Silken Thomas flung King Henry sword on council board the English thanes among you never ceased to battle brave against the English sway though axe and brand and treachery your proudest cut away of Desmond's blood through women's veins pest on the exhausted tide his title lives a Saxon churl usurps the lion's hide and though Keldare tower thoughtily there's ruin at the root elsewise since Edward fell to earth at such a tree no fruit true Geraldine, brave Geraldine as torrents mold the earth you channel deep old Ireland's heart by constancy and worth when Ginko leagered limerick the Irish soldiers gazed to see if in the setting sun dead Desmond's banner blazed and still it is the peasants hope upon the corrux mirror they live we'll see ten thousand men with good ward Edward here so let them dream till brighter days when not by Edward's shade but by some leader true as he their line shall be arrayed these Geraldines rain wears away the rock and time may wear away the tribe that stood the battle shocked but ever sure well one is left of all that honored race in front of Ireland's chivalry that fits Gerald's place and though the last were dead and gone how many a field in town from Thomas court to Abbey field would cherish their renown and then would say a valour's rise or ancient powers decline till never soar it never shone as did the Geraldine the Geraldines the Geraldines and are there any fears within the sons of conquerors for a full a thousand years suffering from out his soil bedued with martyr's blood or has that grown a pearling brook which long rushed down a flood but desmond swept with sword and fire by clan and keep laid low by silken Thomas in his kin by sainted Edward no the forms of century rise and in the Irish line command their son to take the post that fits the Geraldine and section 90 this recording is in the public domain section 91 of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales read for LibriVox.org by Thomas Peter The Vengeance of Cromwell 1649 by Oliver Cromwell after the execution of Charles I in 1649 Cromwell set out to subdue Ireland one of the first of his operations was the attack upon Droguida or Trida the following is part of his own account of what happened after his forces and made their way into the city the men who were shipped to the Barbados were sold as slaves a far worse fate than death the editor divers of the enemy retreated into the mill mount a place very strong and of difficult access being exceedingly high having a good graft and strongly palisadot the governor, Sir Arthur Ashton and divers considerable officers being there are men getting up to them were ordered by me to put them all to the sword and indeed being in the heat of action I forbade them to spare any that were in arms in the town and I think that night they put to the sword about two thousand men divers of the officers and soldiers being fled over the bridge into the other part of the town were about a hundred of them possessed St. Peter's church steeple a small round tower next to the gate called Saint Sunday's these being summoned to yield to mercy refused whereupon I ordered the steeple of St. Peter's church to be fired the next day the other two towers were summoned and one of which was about six or seven score but they refused to yield themselves and we knowing that hunger must compel them set only good guards to secure them from running away until their stomachs were come down the other said towers, notwithstanding their condition they killed and wounded some of our men when they submitted their officers were knocked on the head and every tenth man of the soldiers killed and the rest shipped for the Barbados the soldiers in the other tower were all spared as to their lives only and shipped likewise for the Barbados I am persuaded that this is a righteous judgment of God upon these barbarous wretches who have imbrewed their hands so much innocent blood and that it will tend to prevent the effusion of blood for the future which are the satisfactory grounds to such actions which otherwise cannot but work remorse and regret the officers and soldiers of this garrison were the flower of their army and their great expectation was that our attempting this place would put fear to ruin us they being confident of the resolution of their men and the advantage of the place end of section 91 this recording is in the public domain