Tag Archives: tuatha dé danann

The Fate of the Children of Tuireann (Part 1)

Here we have the first part of a longer story, focusing on the tensions between the Tuatha Dé Danann and the oppressive Fomorians in the lead up to the First Battle of Mag Tured. This tale here shows them as foreigners – from Lochlann, which Joyce says are the Danes, from across the Baltic sea. It is a popular explanation of their origins, although sometimes they are seen as more supernatural entities, not potential invaders, but Otherworldly forces or giants – beautiful like Bres, or hideous and ‘demonic’ in appearance, with one leg and distorted features.

Mythologically the Fomorians are traditionally seen as the arch-enemy of the settlers of Ireland. They first appear when agriculture is introduced to Ireland, by Parthalon and his people (the second wave of invaders in Ireland, according to the Lebor Gabála Érenn – ‘The Book of Invasions’), and are subdued at last when Lugh manages to get a vital piece of information from Bres, the half-Fomorian former king of the Tuatha Dé Danann, at The Second Battle of Mag Tured. Here Bres tells Lugh when it is best to plough, sow, and reap, and with that Lugh spares his life and accepts peace between the two factions. The underlying symbolism seems to suggest that the Fomorians represent not the forces of demonic evil as they are sometimes interpreted as, but that they represent the chaotic, untamed forces of nature. Once the Tuatha Dé Danann finally establish how the people of Ireland  – whoever they may be – should approach nature properly, the Fomorians never make trouble again; peace has been made. 

Whatever the case, the Fomorians are never seen to triumph over Ireland and settle there themselves. At best, they live on the periphery, travelling from their native ‘Lochlann’, or setting up base on the Isle of Aran, where they inflict their havoc intermittently. To this day, Balor in particular is associated with many parts of Aran and County Donegal. 

In this following tale, from P. W. Joyce’s Old Celtic Romances, I’ve chosen to change some of the spellings and epithets to more recognisable forms – where Joyce has Luga the Ildanach, I’ve rendered him as Lugh, the Samildanach (Many-Skilled), for instance. The notes I’ve given in the text are selectively referencing Joyce’s notes.  

When the Tuatha Dé Danann held sway in Erin, a prosperous free-bom king ruled over them, whose name was Nuada of the Silver Hand.

In the time of this king, the Fomorians, from Lochlann, in the north, oppressed the Tuatha Dé, and forced them to pay heavy tributes; namely, a tax on kneading-troughs, a tax on querns, and a tax on baking flags; and besides all this, an oimce of gold for each man of the Tuatha Dé Danann. These tributes had to be paid every year at the Hill of Uisneach;1 and if any one refused or neglected to pay his part, his nose was cut off by the Fomorian tyrants.

At this time a great fair-meeting was held by the king of Ireland, Nuada of the Silver Hand, on the Hill of Uisneach. Not long had the people been assembled, when they saw a stately band of warriors, all mounted on white steeds, coming towards them from the east; and at their head, high in command over all, rode a young champion, tall and comely, with a countenance as bright and glorious as the setting sun.

This young warrior was Lugh of the Long Arms. He was accompanied by his foster brothers, namely, the sons of Manannán Mac Lir; and the troop he led was the Fairy Host from the Land of Promise.2

Now in this manner was he arrayed. He rode the steed of Manannán Mac Lir, namely, Enbarr of the Flowing Mane: no warrior was ever killed on the back of this steed, for she was as swift as the clear, cold wind of spring, and she travelled with equal ease on land and on sea. He wore Mannanan’s coat of mail: no one could be wounded through it, or above it, or below it. He had on his breast Manannán’s breast-plate, which no weapon could pierce. His helmet had two glittering precious stones set front, and one behind; and whenever he took it off, his face shone like the sun on a dry day in summer. Manannán’s sword, The Answerer, hung at his left side: no one ever recovered from its wound; and those who were opposed to it in the battle-field were so terrified by looking at it, that their strength left them till they became weaker than a woman in deadly sickness.

This troop came forward to where the king of Erin sat surrounded by the Tuatha Dé, and both parties exchanged friendly greetings.

A short time after this they saw another company approaching, quite imlike the first, for they were grim and fierce and surly looking ; namely, the tax-gatherers of the Fomorians, to the number of nine nines, who were coming to demand their yearly tribute from the men of Erin. When they reached the place where the king sat, the entire assembly — the king himself among the rest — rose up before them. For the whole Tuatha Dé Danann race stood in great dread of these Fomorian tax-collectors; so much so that no man dared even to chastise his own son without first seeking their consent.

Then Lugh of the Long Arms spoke to the king and said, “Why have ye stood up before this hateful-looking company, when ye did not stand up for us?”

“We durst not do otherwise,” replied the king; “for if even an infant of a month old remained seated before them, they would deem it cause enough for killing us all.”

When Lugh heard this he brooded in silence for a little while, and then he said, ” Of a truth, I feel a great desire to kill all these men!”

Then he mused again, and after a time, said, “I am strongly urged to kill these men!”

“That deed would doubtless bring great evil on us,” said the king, “for then the Fomorians would be sure to send an army to destroy us all.”

But Lugh, after another pause, started up, exclaiming, “Long have ye been oppressed in this manner!” and so saying, he attacked the Fomorians, dealing red slaughter among them. Neither did he hold his hand till he had slain them all except nine. These he spared, because they ran with all speed and sat nigh the king, that he might protect them from Lugh’s wrath.

Then Lugh put his sword back into its scabbard, and said, ‘I would slay you also, only that I wish you to go and tell your king, and the foreigners in general, what you have seen.”

These nine men accordingly returned to their own country, and they told their tale to the Fomorian people from beginning to end — how the strange, noble-faced youth had slain all the tax-collectors except nine, whom he spared that they might bring home the story.

When they had ended speaking, the king, Balor of the Mighty Blows and of the Evil Eye, asked the chiefs, “Do ye know who this youth is?”

And when they answered, “No,” Kethlenda, Balor’s queen, said —

“I know well who the youth is: he is the Samildanach, Lugh of the Long Arms, the son of your daughter and mine; and it has been long foretold that when he should appear in Erin, our sway over the Tuatha Dé should come to an end.”

Then the chief people of the Fomorians held council; namely, Balor of the Mighty Blows, and his twelve sons, and his queen Kethlenda of the Crooked Teeth; Ebb and Sencab, the grandsons of Neid; Sotal of the Large Heels; Luath the Long-bodied; Luath the Story-teller; Tinna the Mighty, of Triscadal; Loskenn of the Bare Knees; Lobas, the druid; besides the nine prophetic poets and philosophers of the Fomorians.

After they had debated the matter for some time, Bres, the son of Balor, arose and said, “I will go to Erin with seven great battalions of the Fomorian army, and I will give battle to the Samildanach, and I will bring his head to you to our palace of Berva.”

The Fomorian chiefs thought well of this proposal, and it was agreed to.

So the ships were got ready for Bres; abundant food and drink and war stores were put into them, their seams were calked with pitch, and they were filled with sweet-smelling frankincense. Meantime the two Luaths, that is to say, Luath the Story-teller and Luath of the Long Body, were sent all over Lochlann to summon the army. And when all the fighting men were gathered together, they arrayed themselves in their battle-dresses, prepared their arms, and set out for Erin.

Balor went with them to the harbour where they were to embark, and when they were about to go on board, he said to them —

“Give battle to the Samildanach, and cut off his head. And after ye have overcome him and his people, put your cables roimd this island of Erin, which gives us so much trouble, and tie it at the stems of your ships: then sail home, bringing the island with you, and place it on the north side of Lochlann, whither none of the Tuatha Dé will ever follow it.”

Then, having hoisted their many-coloured sails and loosed their moorings, they sailed forth from the harbour into the great sea, and never slackened speed or turned aside from their course till they reached the harbour of Eas-Dara.3 And as soon as they landed, they sent forth an army through West Connaught, which wasted and spoiled the whole province.

Joyce, Old Celtic Romances Translated from the Gaelic, 1879, pp37-42.



1 The Hill of Uisneach, in the parish of Conry, in Westmeath, one of the royal residences of Ireland. It is sometimes referred to as ‘the navel of Ireland’; the omphalos, or spiritual centre of Ireland. This is represented by a special stone, the Aill na Mireann, or ‘Stone of Divisions,’ with each division representing one of Ireland’s provinces.

2 The Land of Promise – Tír Tairngire – is often referred to as one of the chief homes of the Tuatha Dé Danann in later legends, and is a sort of Otherworldly fairyland. Joyce notes that it is sometimes identified with the Isle of Man, giving it associations with Manannán, who often plays a prominent role in the later myths and legends.
3 Eas-Dara, now Ballysodare in County Sligo.
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Posted by on February 10, 2012 in Uncategorized


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Fulacht na Morrighna

And now for something slightly different…

There is a popular belief that the Morrígan is a war-goddess and not much more than that, but like any other deity, things are never as simple as they might seem. Aside from her associations with war and magic there are some intriguing references in popular lore and the medieval manuscripts that associate her with the Fulacht na Morrighna, or ‘The Spit of the Morrígan’, often simply referred to as the ‘Cooking Hearth of the Great Queen’ (or variations thereof…).

One of the Irish Triads tells us: “Three things that constitute a blacksmith, Neithin’s spit, the cooking pit of the Morrígan, the Dagda’s anvil,” and the following excerpt from Petrie’s ‘On the History and Antiquities of Tara Hill’ explores these connections in more detail, with another excerpt to come in the next post as well. Petrie here has been describing (at great length) the supposed layout of Tech Miodhchuarta, the legendary banqueting hall of Tara, the main political centre of the high kings of Ireland and a highly important ceremonial site. There are some obscure words that Petrie has been unable to translate, so just bear with it:

It appears from notices found in other MSS. that the spit at Tara was known by another name, partly derived from that of its inventor, namely, Bir Nechin, or Dechin, the spit of Dechin, who, according to these authorities, was the chief smith of Tara in the time of the Tuatha-De-Dananns; as in the following passage from the Leabhar Buidhe, H. 2. 16, col. 245.

The usual inneoin of the Daghda here.

Bir Nechin here: Nechin was the chief smith of Temur. He was the first smith who went into Teach Midchuarta, so that he sunk the spot where a fire should rise, and he made a spit with motion that it might reach the fire, and that it might coil into it durunn another time.

This spit, as well as one of another description, called Inneoin an Daghdha, or the spit of the Daghdha, is thus noticed in another ancient MS. in the same library, H. 3. 18, p. 433.

Inneoin of the Daghdha. There is no fixed situation for it, but it used to lie with the cinders and rise with the flame; and its leadhh used to be on the back of each man on the next day.

It was Goivnenn [Goibniu] that made the Bir Deichen. It was Drinne, the son of Luchair, who made the
Inneoin of the Daghdha; and it was thus: a stick at each end of it, and its axle was wood, and its wheel was wood, and its body was iron; and there were twice nine wheels on its axle, that it might turn the faster, and there were thirty spits out of it, and thirty hooks, and thirty spindles, and it was as rapid as the rapidity of a stream in turning: and thrice nine spits, and thrice nine cavities (or pots,) and one spit for roasting, and one wing used to set it in motion.

These cooking instruments, together with a third called Fulacht na Mor-righna, or the spit, or cooker, of the great queen, are also noticed in a fragment of the Brehon Laws in the same MS., and on the same page.

This is the druine dana which is due to the smith when his full remuneration is given him; viz. Bir Deichen, and Fulacht na Mor-righna, and the Inneoin of the Daghdha. Bir Deichen, i. e. a spit which belonged to Deichen, a smith who was at Temur; and it reached from the roof to the fire, in Teach Midchuarta, and the airigithe* of Teach Midchuarta used to be warmed on it, and it used to return into its purse on the next day.

Fulacht na Mor-righna. Three kinds of victuals on it, i.e. dressed victuals, and raw victuals, and butter; and the dressed food was not burned, and the raw food was dressed, and the butter was not dissolved, but as was proper.

The Fulacht na Mor-righna is also noticed in the MS., H. 2. 16, col. 245, as follows:

Fulacht na Mor-righna here, i.e. a piece of raw meat and another of dressed meat, and a bit of butter on it; and the butter did not melt, the raw was dressed, and the dressed was not burned, even though the three were together on the spit.

There went to her [i. e. Mor-righain] on one occasion nine persons, to request that an Inneoin
would be made for them, for they were outlaws, i.e. an Inneoin with nine ribs in it, and each of them carried his own rib in his hand wherever he went, until night, and they joined them all together on its posts when they met at the close of the day; and it used to be raised to the height of a man when it was desirable, and it was not higher over the fire at another time than a fist on the same posts, without breaking without diminishing: the reason was because its material was iron.

George Petrie, On the History and Antiquities of Tara Hill in Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy Volume XVIII, 1839, p213-214.

The subject of fulachta (the plural form) is a complicated one, and in archaeology they refer to what are otherwise known as ‘burnt mounds,’ since that’s generally all that’s left of them. Most of them date to around the Bronze Age, but nobody is exactly sure what they were for. At the least they usually consist of a pit and an amount of burnt stones and charcoal, and as the name ‘fulacht’ implies, the most common theory is that they were outdoor cooking pits.

It’s notable that the last paragraph in the excerpt above specifically mentions outlaws approaching the Morrígan, since the fulacht themselves are generally found in places that are not associated with settlements; they are commonly called fulacht fiadh, the latter word meaning ‘wild’, possibly referring to the location of them, or else the wild meats (such as deer) that were cooked and then consumed in them. Outlaws were usually young men who left their tuatha to live outside of normal society (and therefore the law and protections that such status within the tuath brought with it), and made their living as hunters and warriors for hire (or brigandage). 

Many of the fulachta that have been found are large and could have been filled with hot water, which would then have been able to cook meat and any other ingredients added, and provide the perfect setting for a hungry band of hunters, warriors, or whoever else might have had the need to dine al fresco. The stones could have been heated in a fire and put in the water in order to heat it up and then maintain the right temperature as the stew cooked.

Other theories for these burnt mounds, however, suggests the possibility that they may have been used for brewing light ales (a theory which has been successfully tried out), or for dyeing cloth, for leather-working, or for bathing. If these fulachta were used for bathing, it may suggest a ritual/healing function akin to the use of sweatlodges (Tigh ‘n Alluis) in rural Ireland. 


Posted by on February 2, 2012 in Uncategorized


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The Cow Legend of Corofin

This next tale has a little bit of preamble before it with some snippets of lore I thought I’d leave in; a sign of the time, the author is keen on patronising the ‘peasants’ on whom he relies for his stories…But he does make a good point; the tale is indeed very similar to some Scottish legends as well. I wouldn’t agree that the tale is of ancient descent, but rather more the product of the popularity of the Fionn Cycle in more recent times. Nonetheless it’s an unusual tale in that it attributes membership of the Tuatha De Danann (the spelling used below – ‘Danaan’ – is incorrect, but common for this period, influenced by the Greek Danaans) to a smith who is otherwise not usually numbered amongst them in older sources as far as I’ve seen:

Corofin and its neighbourhood is a happy hunting-ground for folk-lore even in these degenerate days. Much more so in 1840, when Eugene 0′ Curry took some pains to gather a few sheaves of that abundant harvest, much of which may still be saved, though till lately left untended. We still hear among the peasantry legends of Claraghmoor (Richard de Clare, 1318), Tige Ahood (Teige Acomhad, 1460), and Maureen Rhue (Mary O’Brien, 1641); with recollections of Ossian, and of the wonderful leap of the hound, Bran, and the deer, from the top of Inchiquin hill; of the discovery of turf-cutting by the warriors cleaning their blood-stained swords in the peat, and throwing the clods on the fire; with wild and sometimes beautiful beliefs in the swan maidens of Inchiquin, the banshees of Rath, and the “cursing-stone of Kilmoon,” the turning of which “maledictive stone” twisted the mouths of the victims awry. But a still more famous story was told by the older generation, and this I adapt from the invaluable pages of the Ordnance Survey Letters. It was told, in 1839, by Shane Reagh O’Cahane, an old tailor and shanachee of Corofin, and it coincides with the shorter form of the legend still told at Tullycomane:

On the ridge of Glasgeivnagh, in Teeskagh townland, in Kilnaboy parish, the high land adjoining the edge of Barren, ages ago, lived Lon mac Leefa (Liomhtha), a Tuatha De Danaan [sic], and the first smith who made edged weapons in Erin. He was strange to behold, for he had only one leg and three arms, the third of which grew out of the middle of his chest, and enabled him to turn the iron on the anvil, while he wielded the heavy sledge with the others. When he walked he would bound over valleys and hills, his one leg acting as a powerful spring. He had gone to Spain, and stolen a famous cow called Glasgeivnagh, on whose milk he lived. His race having been defeated by the Milesians, he long sought a ‘desert’ place sufficiently fertile to support his cow, and at last found it at Teeskagh. There the…(‘Seven Streams of Teeskagh’) still attest the legend how a lady made a bet that she would find a vessel which the cow could not fill, and milked her into a sieve; the milk ran down the hillside, forming the pretty waterfall and streams, which run across a deep gorge to sink into clefts of the rock. Beside the water were shown the ‘Leabas,’ or beds, of the cow and her calf; no grass could grow on them. Many sought to steal the cow, but her hoofs grew backward, so they could never track her (though her footprints remain all over the rocks of the district), for one of Lon’s seven sons, holding her tail, would follow her each day of the week to the top of the hill, and then pull her round and let her graze home again.

Lon’s life of obscurity was, however, to end. Unlike others of his race, who sulked in the ‘sidhs,’ or fairy hills, he longed to astonish the Milesians, by making a famous sword for the most illustrious of their warriors. The fame of Fin mac Cumhal reached him, and he set out in his usual expeditious method, and reached the fort of Ben Edar, or Howth. Springing into the presence of Fin and his astonished court, “I am Lon,” he cried, “skilled in smiths’ art, and a servant of the King of Lochlin; I lay on thee a ‘geasa’ to overtake me ere I reach home.” Off he bounded, and the Fenians were soon hopelessly distanced, except Caoilte, “of the slender, hard legs,” who kept the smith in sight, and coming up with him just as he entered his cave in Garraidh-na-Ceartan, where the ashes of his forge remain, to refute all sceptics, he slapped him on the shoulder. “Stay, smith,” said Caoilte, “enter not thy cave alone.” “Success and welcome, true soldier of the Fionna,” said Lon, in delight, “not for witchcraft did I visit thee, but to lead thee to my forge, and give thee a weapon to make thee famous”; and they worked at the forge for three days. At last Fin and seven of his men arrived, and Lon sold them eight swords. There the work ended, for the anvil was broken under the strokes of Goll and Conan, the sons of Morné.

Meanwhile a party of the Tuatha De Danaan mustered on Ceann Sleibhte (now Keentlae), or Inchiquin Hill, and posted troops on the causeways round Glasgeivnagh, namely, Corad mac Burin, 1 opposite Ballyportry, Corad mhic Eoghain, one mile west of Corofin, and at the Corad Finn itself. Their precautions were of no avail, for the strangers routed the outposts, and exterminated the main army in a pitched battle near Suidhe Finn, where bones are still found.

The legend ends tamely and abruptly, by stating that “an Ulster-man stole the cow.”

This legend is widely spread,2 and of ancient descent; it occurs at Ballynascreen, in Derry, and in Donegal, opposite Tory Island. Professor llhys gives fully the legend (singularly like the myth of Danae), of Balor’s daughter, and Kineely, “the wolf head,” the owner of the stolen cow, Glasgaivlen. Similar legends are found in Glengaulen, Cavan, on the Hill of Tara, and in Kerry. Nor are they confined to Ireland. The Rev. James Campbell tells an identical smith story of Tiree and Argyll: ” Lon mac Liven, son of Una, daughter of Vulcan,” with “one leg, and one eye on the top of his forehead,” comes to Fin, stating that he worked for the Norse King of “Givlen,” and flies, “taking a desert and a glen at each step,” to “a grey, sickly glen,” being overtaken by Caoilte Daorglas, who finds “seven ugly smiths” in the cave, and the tale ends in the splitting of the anvil, and a fierce combat. In Skye a Glasghoilean cow, the property of Fin, had “a bed,” which is still shown. The Scotch stories have more classic affinities (to Vulcan and the Cyclops) than our Clare myth, while the Glas Gavlen cow descends from the sky at Dun Kinealy, and is unmistakably a relative of the rain cows of the Vedas.

From ‘Miscellanea’, The Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquities of Ireland Volume V, 1895, p227-229.


Author’s Notes

1 The Coradh mac am burion of the “Wars of Torlough” in 1317, lay where “Kells Bridge” is marked on the maps, as established, from the recollection of the older peasantry, by our Local Secretary for North Clare, Dr. Mac Namara.

2 Ordnance Survey Letters, Co. Clare. R.I. A., p.66; also those of Cavan and Donegal. “Hero Tales of Ireland” (J. Curtin) Introduction, pp. xliv. and 1. Rev. J. Campbell’s “Waifs and Strays of Celtic Tradition.” “Hibbert Lectures, 1886” (Professor Rhys), p. 315. “Annals of the Four Masters,” vol. i., p. 18, note. Our Journal, 1852-1853, p. 315. “Journal,” Cork Historical and Archaeological Society, May, 1895, p. 210.


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Posted by on February 2, 2012 in Uncategorized


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There is a well-known body of Irish placename lore called the Dindshenchas, which can be found in several different Irish manuscripts. The best known Dindshenchas tales are perhaps the Metrical Dindshenchas, which were translated by Edward Gwynn, and these can be found online in four volumes. There are also prose versions, which Whitley Stokes translated in a further four volumes. The following Dinnshenchas tales are from the lesser-known Edinburgh manuscript, which is dated to the fifteenth century. The selection of tales I’ve chosen relate to several well-known gods of the Irish landscape and also offer slightly different versions of the Dinnshenchas, some of which can only be found in the Edinburgh manuscript.

This tale tells us how Dian Cécht, the famous healer of the Tuatha Dé Danann, formed the plain of Lusmag. It mentions Cath Maige Tuired, ‘The Second Battle of Mag Tured’, where the well is also referred to on pages 95 and 97 of the Stokes translation, but notably not in Elizabeth Gray’s more recent translation, which gives a slightly different version of events. It is thought that the tale is referring to the modern day Lusmagh in County Offaly. 

Lusmag, whence is it ?

Not hard (to say). ‘Tis thence that Diancecht brought every herb of healing and grated them on Slainge’s Well in Achad Abla, north-west of Moytura, when there was a battle between the Tuatha De Danann and the Fomorians. Every one of the Tuatha De Danann whom they would lay under that water of herbs would arise smooth and healed of his wounds. Whence Lusmag, “Herb-plain.”

Diancecht brought with him hither
Every herb from precious Lusmag
To the well of the little healths,
North-west of Moytura.

Whitley Stokes, ‘The Edinburgh Dinnshenchas‘, in Folklore IV, 1893, p489-490.

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Posted by on January 29, 2012 in Uncategorized


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De Gabāil in t-Sīda in-so Sīs

Here follows the Seizure of the Fairy Hill

There was a famous king over the Túatha Dé in Ireland. His name (was) Dagán. Great, then, was his power, even though it belonged to the Mac Míled after the conquest of the country, for the Túatha Dé destroyed the corn and the milk round about the Mac Míled until they made the friendship of the Dagda. Afterwards, he saved their corn and milk.

Now when he was king at first, his might was vast, and it was he who apportioned out the fairy mounds to the men of the Túatha Dé, namely Lug Mac Ethnend in Síd Rodrubán, (and) Ogma in Síd Aircelltraí, but for the Dagda himself Síd Leithet Lachtmaige, Oí Asíd, Cnocc Báine, (and) Brú Ruair. As, however, they say, he had Síd In Broga from the beginning.

Then Mac Oac came to the Dagda in order to petition for land after it had been distributed to each one. He was, moreover, a fosterling to Midir of Brí Léith and to Nindid, the seer.

“I have none for thee,” said the Dagda. “I have completed the division.”

“Therefore let be granted to me,” said the Mac Ooc, “even a day and a night in thy own dwelling.”

That then was given to him.

“Go now to thy following.” said the Dagda, “since thou hast consumed thy (allotted) time.”

“It is clear,” said he, “that night and day are (the length of) the whole world, and it is that which has been given to me.”

Thereupon the Dagda went out, and the Mac Ooc remained in his Síd.

Wonderful, moreover, (is) that land. Three trees with fruit are there always, and a pig eternally alive, and a roasted swine, and a vessel with marvellous liquor, and never do they all decrease.

De Gabāil in t-Sīda in-so Sīs 

Boí rí amra for Tūathaib Dea i n-Hēre. Dagān a ainm. Ba mór, di·diu, a chumachta, ced la Maccu Mīled iar n-gabāil in tíre, ar collset Tūatha Dea ith 7 blicht im Maccu Mīled con·digensat) chairddes in Dagdai. Do·essart saide, īarum, ith 7 blicht dóib.

Ba mór, di·diu, a chumachtasom in tan ba rí i tossucch 7 ba hé fodail inna side do feraib Dea .i. Lug Mac Ethnend i Ssíd Rodrubán; Ogma i Ssíd Airceltrai. Don Dagdu fessin, immurgu, Síth Leithet Lachtmaige, Oí Asíd, Cnocc Báine, Brú Ruair. Síd in Broga, da·no, ba laiss i tossuch, amal as·berat.

Do·lluid, di·diu, in Mac Oac cosin Dagda do chungid feraind o fo·rodail do chách. Ba dalta saide, di·diu, do Midir Breg Léith 7 do Nindid fáith.

“Ní-mthá duit,” ol in Dagda, “Tarnaic fodail lemm.”

“Etar dam, di·diu,” ol in Mac Ooc, “cid laa co n-aidchi it trib féin.” Do·breth do-som ōn, īarum.

“Collá dot dāim, trā,” ol in Dagda, “ūaire do·romailt do ré.”

“Is menand,” olse, “is laa 7 adaig in bith uile, 7 iss ed ōn do·ratad dam-sa.” Luid, do·no, Dagān ass, īarum, 7 anaid in Mac Óoc ina Síd.

Amra, da·no, a tír hī-sin. A·taat tri chrand co torud and do grés, 7 mucc bithbēo for chossaib, 7 mucc fonaithe, 7 lestar co llind sainemail, 7 ni·erchran and sin uile do grés.”

From: Vernam Hull, De Gabāil in t-Sīda,’ in Zeitschrift für Celtische Philologie Volume 19,1933, pp53-58. See also: Paddy Brown’s translation.

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Posted by on January 27, 2012 in Uncategorized


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