From the Instructions of King Cormac
‘O Cormac, grandson of Conn,’ said Carbery, ‘what are the dues of a chief and of an ale-house?’
‘Not hard to tell,’ said Cormac.
‘Good behaviour around a good chief,
Lights to lamps,
Exerting oneself for the company,
A proper settlement of seats,
Liberality of dispensers,
A nimble hand at distributing,
Attentive service,
Music in moderation,
Short story-telling,
A joyous countenance,
Welcome to guests,
Silence during recitals,
Harmonious choruses.’
‘O Cormac, grandson of Conn,’ said Carbery, ‘what were your habits when you were a lad?’
‘Not hard to tell,’ said Cormac.
‘I was a listener in woods,
I was a gazer at stars,
I was blind where secrets were concerned,
I was silent in a wilderness,
I was talkative among many,
I was mild in the mead-hall,
I was stern in battle,
I was gentle towards allies,
I was a physician of the sick,
I was weak towards the feeble,
I was strong towards the powerful,
I was not close lest I should be burdensome,
I was not arrogant though I was wise,
I was not given to promising though I was strong,
I was not venturesome though I was swift,
I did not deride the old though I was young,
I was not boastful though I was a good fighter,
I would not speak about any one in his absence,
I would not reproach, but I would praise,
I would not ask, but I would give,—
for it is through these habits that the young become old and kingly warriors.’
‘O Cormac, grandson of Conn,’ said Carbery, ‘what is the worst thing you have seen?’
‘Not hard to tell,’ said Cormac. ‘Faces of foes in the rout of battle.’
‘O Cormac, grandson of Conn,’ said Carbery, ‘what is the sweetest thing you have heard?’
‘Not hard to tell,’ said Cormac.
‘The shout of triumph after victory,
Praise after wages,
A lady’s invitation to her pillow.’
‘O Cormac, grandson of Conn,’ said Carbery, ‘how do you distinguish women?’
‘Not hard to tell,’ said Cormac. ‘I distinguish them, but I make no difference among them.
‘They are crabbed as constant companions,
haughty when visited,
lewd when neglected,
silly counsellors,
greedy of increase;
they have tell-tale faces,
they are quarrelsome in company,
steadfast in hate,
forgetful of love,
anxious for alliance,
accustomed to slander,
stubborn in a quarrel,
not to be trusted with a secret,
ever intent on pilfering,
boisterous in their jealousy,
ever ready for an excuse,
on the pursuit of folly,
slanderers of worth,
scamping their work,
stiff when paying a visit,
disdainful of good men,
gloomy and stubborn,
viragoes in strife,
sorrowful in an ale-house,
tearful during music,
lustful in bed,
arrogant and disingenuous,
abettors of strife,
niggardly with food,
rejecting wisdom,
eager to make appointments,
sulky on a journey,
troublesome bedfellows,
deaf to instruction,
blind to good advice,
fatuous in society,
craving for delicacies,
chary in their presents,
languid when solicited,
exceeding all bounds in keeping others waiting,
tedious talkers,
close practitioners,
dumb on useful matters,
eloquent on trifles.
Happy he who does not yield to them!
They should be dreaded like fire,
they should be feared like wild beasts.
Woe to him who humours them!
Better to beware of them than to trust them,
better to trample upon them than to fondle them,
better to crush them than to cherish them.
They are waves that drown you,
they are fire that burns you,
they are two-edged weapons that cut you,
they are moths for tenacity,
they are serpents for cunning,
they are darkness in light,
they are bad among the good,
they are worse among the bad.’
‘O Cormac, grandson of Conn,’ said Carbery, ‘what is the worst for the body of man?’
‘Not hard to tell,’ said Cormac. ‘Sitting too long, lying too long, long standing, lifting heavy things, exerting oneself beyond one’s strength, running too much, leaping too much, frequent falls, sleeping with one’s leg over the bed-rail, gazing at glowing embers, wax, biestings, new ale, bull-flesh, curdles, dry food, bog-water, rising too early, cold, sun, hunger, drinking too much, eating too much, sleeping too much, sinning too much, grief, running up a height, shouting against the wind, drying oneself by a fire, summer-dew, winter-dew, beating ashes, swimming on a full stomach, sleeping on one’s back, foolish romping.’
‘O Cormac, grandson of Conn,’ said Carbery, ‘what is the worst pleading and arguing?’
‘Not hard to tell,’ said Cormac.
‘Contending against knowledge,
contending without proofs,
taking refuge in bad language,
a stiff delivery,
a muttering speech,
hair-splitting,
uncertain proofs,
despising books,
turning against custom,
shifting one’s pleading,
inciting the mob,
blowing one’s own trumpet,
shouting at the top of one’s voice.’
‘O Cormac, grandson of Conn,’ said Carbery, ‘who are the worst for whom you have a comparison?’
‘Not hard to tell,’ said Cormac.
‘A man with the impudence of a satirist,
with the pugnacity of a slave-woman,
with the carelessness of a dog,
with the conscience of a hound,
with a robber’s hand,
with a bull’s strength,
with the dignity of a judge,
with keen ingenious wisdom,
with the speech of a stately man,
with the memory of an historian,
with the behaviour of an abbot,
with the swearing of a horse-thief,
and he wise, lying, grey-haired, violent, swearing, garrulous, when he says “the matter is settled, I swear, you shall swear.”’
‘O Cormac, grandson of Conn,’ said Carbery, ‘I desire to know how I shall behave among the wise and the foolish, among friends and strangers, among the old and the young, among the innocent and the wicked.’
‘Not hard to tell,’ said Cormac.
‘Be not too wise, nor too foolish,
be not too conceited, nor too diffident,
be not too haughty, nor too humble,
be not too talkative, nor too silent,
be not too hard, nor too feeble.
If you be too wise, one will expect too much of you;
if you be too foolish, you will be deceived;
if you be too conceited, you will be thought vexatious;
if you be too humble, you will be without honour;
if you be too talkative, you will not be heeded;
if you be too silent, you will not be regarded;
if you be too hard, you will be broken;
if you be too feeble, you will be crushed.’
Notes
‘The Isles of the Happy’ and ‘The Sea-god’s Address to Bran’ are poems interspersed in the prose tale called ‘The Voyage of Bran son of Febal to the Land of the Living.’ For text and translation see my edition (London: D. Nutt, 1895), pp. 4 and 16. The tale was probably first written down early in the eighth, perhaps late in the seventh century.
‘The Tryst after Death’ (Reicne Fothaid Canainne) belongs to the ninth century. For the original text and translation see my ‘Fianaigecht, a collection of hitherto inedited Irish poems and tales relating to Finn and his Fiana’ (Dublin: Hodges, Figgis and Co., 1910), p. 10 ff.
‘Deirdre’s Farewell to Scotland’ and ‘Deirdre’s Lament’ are taken from the well-known tale called ‘The Death of the Children of Usnech.’ The text which is here rendered is that of the Middle-Irish version edited and translated by Whitley Stokes (Irische Texte, ii., Leipzig, 1884), pp. 127 and 145. My rendering follows in the main that of Stokes.
‘The Hosts of Faery.’—From the tale called ‘Laegaire mac Crimthainn’s Visit to the Fairy Realm of Mag Mell,’ the oldest copy of which is found in the Book of Leinster, a MS. of the twelfth century, p. 275 b. See S.H. O’Grady’s Silva Gadelica (Williams and Norgate, 1892), vol. i. p. 256; vol. ii. p. 290, where, however, the verse is not translated.
The two poems from the ‘Vision of MacConglinne’ are taken from my translation of the twelfth-century burlesque so called (D. Nutt, 1892), pp. 34 and 78.
‘A Dirge for King Niall of the Nine Hostages.’—Text and translation in Festschrift für Whitley Stokes (Harrassowitz, Leipzig, 1900), p. 1 ff., and in the Gaelic Journal, x.p. 578 ff. Late eighth or early ninth century.
‘The Song of Carroll’s Sword.’—Edited and translated in Revue Celtique, xx. p. 7 ff., and again in the Gaelic Journal, x.p. 613. Dallán mac Móre, to whom the poem is ascribed, was chief bard to King Carroll (Cerball) mac Muiregan of Leinster, who reigned from about a.d. 885 to 909.
‘Eochaid’s Lament.’—Text published in Archiv für celtische Lexikographie (Niemeyer, Halle a. S., 1907), vol. iii. p. 304.
‘Lament on King Malachy II.’—Ibid., p. 305.
‘King and Hermit.’—First published and translated by me under that title with Messrs. D. Nutt, 1901. The language is that of the tenth century.
‘Song of the Sea.’—Text and translation in Otia Merseiana (the publication of the Arts Faculty, University College, Liverpool), vol. ii. p. 76 ff. Though the poem is ascribed to the celebrated poet Rumann, who died in 748, its language points to the eleventh century.
‘Summer has come.’—Text and translation in my Four Songs of Summer and Winter (D. Nutt, 1903), p. 20 ff. The piece probably dates from the tenth century.
‘Song of Summer.’—Ibid., p. 8 ff., and Ériu, the Journal of the School of Irish Learning, i. p. 186. The date is the ninth century, I think.
‘Summer is gone.’—Ibid., p. 14. Ninth century.
‘A Song of Winter.’—From the story called ‘The Hiding of the Hill of Howth,’ first printed and translated by me in Revue Celtique, xi. p. 125 ff. Probably tenth century.
‘Arran.’—Taken from the thirteenth-century prose tale called Agallamh na Senórach, edited and translated by S.H. O’Grady in Silva Gadelica. The poem refers to the island in the Firth of Clyde.
‘The Song of Crede, daughter of Guare.’—See text and translation in Ériu, ii. p. 15 ff. Probably tenth century.
‘Liadin and Curithir.’—First published and translated by me under that title with Messrs. D. Nutt, 1902. It belongs to the ninth century.
‘The Deer’s Cry.’—For the text and translation see Stokes and Strachan, Thesaurus Palaeohibernicus (University Press, Cambridge), vol. ii. p. 354. I have adopted the translation there given except in some details. The hymn in the form in which it has come down to us cannot be earlier than the eighth century.
‘An Evening Song.’—Printed in my Selections from Old-Irish Poetry, p. 1. Though ascribed to Patrick, the piece cannot be older than the tenth century.
‘Patrick’s Blessing on Munster.’—Taken from the Tripartite Life of Patrick, edited by Whitley Stokes (Rolls Series, London, 1887), p. 216. Not earlier than the ninth century.
‘The Hermit’s Song.’—See Ériu, vol. i. p. 39, where the Irish text will be found. The poem dates from the ninth century.
‘A Prayer to the Virgin.’—See Strachan’s edition of the original in Ériu, i. p. 122. There is another copy in the Bodleian MS. Laud 615, p. 91, from which I have taken some better readings. The poem is hardly earlier than the tenth century.
‘Eve’s Lament.’—See Ériu, iii. p. 148. The date is probably the late tenth or early eleventh century.
‘On the Flightiness of Thought.’—See Ériu, iii. p. 13. Tenth century.
‘To Crinog.’—The Irish text was published by me in the Zeitschrift für celtische Philologie, vol. vi. p. 257. The date of the poem is the tenth century. Crinog was evidently what is known in the literature of early Christianity as ιαγαπητη, virgo subintroducta (συνεισακτοσ) or conhospita, i.e. a nun who lived with a priest, monk, or hermit like a sister or ‘spiritual wife’ (uxor spiritualis). This practice, which was early suppressed and abandoned everywhere else, seems to have survived in the Irish Church till the tenth century. See on the whole subject H. Achelis, Virgines Subintroductae, ein Beitrag zu i., Kor. vii. (Leipzig, 1902).
‘The Devil’s Tribute to Moling.’—For text and translation see Whitley Stokes’s Goidelica, 2nd ed., p. 180, and his edition of Félire Oingusso, p. 154 ff. I have in the main followed Stokes’s rendering.
‘Maelisu’s Hymn to the Archangel Michael.’—Text and translation in the Gaelic Journal, vol. iv. p. 56. Maelisu ua Brolcháin was a writer of religious poetry both in Irish and Latin, who died in 1056.
‘The Mothers’ Lament at the Slaughter of the Innocents.’—See text and translation in the Gaelic Journal, iv. p. 89. The piece probably belongs to the eleventh century.
‘Colum Cille’s Greeting to Ireland.’—From Reeves’ edition of Adamnan’s Life of St. Columba, p. 285. The poem, like most of those ascribed to this saint, is late, belonging probably to the twelfth century.
‘The Lament of the Old Woman of Beare.’—Text and translation in Otia Merseiana, i. p. 119 ff. The language of the poem points to the late tenth century.
‘The Deserted Home.’—See Gaelic Journal, iv. p. 42. Probably eleventh century.
‘Colum Cille the Scribe.’—See Gaelic Journal, viii. p. 49. Probably eleventh century.
‘The Monk and his Pet Cat.’—Text and translation in Thesaurus Palaeohibernicus, ii. p. 293. I have made my own translation. The language is that of the late eighth or early ninth century.
‘The Crucifixion.’—From Leabhar Breac, p. 262 marg. sup. and p. 168 marg. inf.
‘Pilgrimage to Rome.’—See Thes. Pal., ii. p. 296.
‘On a Dead Scholar.’—From the notes to the Félire Oingusso, ed. Wh. Stokes (Henry Bradshaw Society, vol. xxix.), p. 198.
‘Hospitality.’—From the Brussels MS., 5100-4, p. 5, and Leabhar Breac, p. 93, marg. sup.
‘The Scribe.’—See Thes. Pal., ii. p. 290.
‘Moling sang this.’—From the notes to the Félire Oingusso, ed. Wh. Stokes, p. 150.
‘The Church Bell.’—See Irische Texte, iii. p. 155.
‘The Blackbird.’—From Leabhar Breac, p. 36, marg. sup.
The ‘Triads of Ireland.’ Edited and translated by me in the Todd Lecture Series of the Royal Irish Academy, vol. xiii. (Hodges, Figgis and Co., Dublin, 1906). The collection was made towards the end of the ninth century.
The ‘Instructions of King Cormac.’ Edited and translated by me in the Todd Lecture Series, vol. xv. (Dublin, 1909). Early ninth century.