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Updated: May 4, 2025
Then, as if to help along his enemies, he began to hum a song, his clear, high voice reaching keenly to the ears of the men in ambush: "'Oh, the time is long, mavourneen, Till I come again, O mavourneen " "And the toime 'll be longer thun iver, oim thinkin', ma purty little voorneen!" said an unmistakable voice of Erin through the gathering dusk.
He contemplated the hushed folk before him; and then from his lips came that weirdest, most haunting of the lyric legends of Erin the Curse of Mora: "The fretted fires of Mora blew o'er him in the night; He thrills no more to loving, nor weeps for past delight. For when those flames have bitten, both grief and joy take flight "
The coracle was put to sea, The sail was hoisted to it; And the second morrow they arrived On the white shores of Erin. As soon as the sons of Uisnech landed in Erin, Ferchar Mac Ro sent word to Connachar, king of Ulster, that the men whom he wanted were come, and let him now show kindness to them.
The Three Waves of Erin thundered in the night; the Wave of Clidna at Glandore in the South; the Wave of Rudraige along the bent-carpeted sandhills of Dundrum, under the Mountains of Mourne; and the Wave of Tuag Inbir, at the bar of northern Bann. For these are the Three Waves of Fate in Erin. Then the four provinces hosted their men.
On a small lake in the heart of the island they made their home, and, by their enchanting music, they drew to its shores all the birds of the west, until the lake came to be called 'The Lake of the Bird-flocks. Slowly passed the years, but a great longing filled the hearts of the children of Lir. When would the good Saint come to Erin?
Another revival, though of a very different character, was, however, actually taking place in Erin at that very period, when the Wars of the Roses gave her breathing-time, which we relate in the words of a modern Irish writer, as a conclusion to the reflections we have indulged in: "Within this period lived Margaret of Offaly, the beautiful and accomplished queen of O'Carrol, King of Ely.
"The Princess Crede is the Queen of the Floating Island. And it chanced, once upon a day, when she was visiting her fairy kinsmen, who dwell in one of the pleasant hills that lie near Tara, she saw you with the high king and princes and nobles of Erin following the chase.
An ancient quatrain, quoted by Geoffrey Keating, is thus literally translated: "After the happy Melaghlin Son of Donald, son of Donogh, Each noble king ruled his own tribe But Erin owned no sovereign Lord." The annals of the eleventh and twelfth centuries curiously illustrate the workings of this "anarchical constitution" to employ a phrase first applied to the Germanic Confederation.
I asked and again I had spoken most unfortunately. "Is there?" he shouted. "Is there? By the kilt of Cormack MacCormack, I'm glad ye reminded me. It was worryin' me a little meself. There was Daghda, who could put on the head of a great boar an' the body of a giant fish and cleave the waves an' tear to pieces the birlins of any who came against Erin; an' there was Rinn "
"Even if I be beaten, the giant dare not destroy the son of the King of Erin, for my father's army will search for me and tear down the castle of the giant when I am found. Besides, I understand that he has three beautiful daughters, the fairest girls in all the land. I should like to see them."
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