Conall, the choicest of the sons
Conall, the choicest of the sons — I speak of the pick of the troop — took possession long ago of the household whence he sprang; Conall gave Eoghan territory. Of a truth they came to Teamhair — they had reached as far as Eas Eidhnigh; he spread his warrior-band grimly before the troop of the Offspring of warlike Niall. Conall of the heroes is chosen — it was not a clamour without result — the stately, virile, pure prince, by election the place of Niall of Teamhair was his. Laoghaire was envious — it was foolishness — of our young leader of slender weapons, a scion whom it was unwise to envy, a man of wavy, plaited, soft, fine, fair locks. Laoghaire — it was a stroke of good fortune for him — easily, very easily became leader; when he got the kingdom for a day and a night, he had acquired prosperity for always. Ireland is possessed for a day and a night, for our advantage, as I have heard; Conall, though his hands were powerful, got unpleasant service from him. Laoghaire said: " Teamhair is mine; set up no-one against me;
discover whether there ever was anything but day and night!" said the generous chief of Ireland. Unhappy for Laoghaire his eagerness; one person of his line was over Ireland; the family that filled my glove is the beautiful Offspring of fair-tressed Conall. The noble succession of bygone kings follows not the Offspring of Laoghaire; he went to his territory to endure his own anger; his deceiving of Conall was full of consequences for him. Ten kings of the beautiful, young progeny — I ponder their career perpetually — got fair, wine-dark Ireland ere now from the time of Conall of the fair tresses. Ainmhire, who plied his weapons — the young warrior was harsh to foreigners, his sworn intention was not gentle in dire necessity — was the first of them over the five provinces. Dark, swift Domhnall, who meted out his spear in no mild fashion, was one of them; he waged battle against Conghal on the pure-soiled Plain of very bright Rath. Aodh, who was an attacker from all sides, gentle Maol Cabha who needed no fence of
stakes;
generous, handsome Conall and Ceallach of the wavy, fine, luxuriant hair, were of their number. Baodan of Liag, Loingseach of Dobhar — they were powerful over everyone — Conghal of great, wooded Ceann Maghair, the support of the extensive host of Ireland. Laithbheartach, a hero who was never made to flinch, who was like the wind through a showery hail-storm — he would pluck the men of Breagha from sorrow — was the tenth great, mead-loving warrior. If one reckons as far as Domhnall ├ôg, whom every populous region serves, of the Sons of Niall from among the white-sided troop, there are eleven men in the list of kings. I see ten husbands of the kindred, over whom Ireland spread her garment; she had valiant husbands; latterly a goodly hero in their place has got her. There is no juice like the taste of the malt of Domhnall of wooded Dun Cnucha; I will choose no-man's qualities in preference to him; the judgments of God are the extent of his prosperity. The son of Domhnall, ├ô Domhnaill of Tonn Tuaidhe, is the foliage of
our branch; he is the son of Lasairfhiona from Aine, a grain from the gentle streams of Muadh. The fair-tressed descendant of Domhnall of Codhal tolerates no division of Ireland; may the hero set up a protective hedge of thorns hard by the house-wall of the men of Ireland. Every pool that had ebbed away filled up as we made the noble hero king; not more plentiful were cows and milk overflowing on the day that Art Aoinfhear was made king. The flower of every region has become fruit — overhead darkening is wont to produce a like downpour; every tree of white nuts bursts forth with ripeness; every district is full of cows and husbandmen. Every tender wood is equally sheltered and equally abundant; the fruits in his territory are poured out in a flood; the waves in the bay roll in harmony; there is fullness of fry and fish. The waves of the harbour threw a casket onto land for the white, bright salmon of Sionna, whom on earth every good fortune has followed, the noble, gentle prop of Dearg Droma. Heady wine that no
human being gave to ├ô Domhnaill came to wave-girt Druim Tuama; the waves of the sea were bringing wine to the bottom of cold Siodh Aodha. The Sons of Dalach of Domhnall of Teamhair, men from among the numerous Children of Lughaidh, have taken possession of wave-girt Druim Dairbhreach, an apple-filled, tender, pure, salmon-rich wood. Quick and tuneful are the voices of the men — the troop of Sleamhain (?) is the prop of the hosts; prosperous are their wooded, rolling hills, dark their cloaks, green their valleys. Northwards from us go hostages in their halter; alternately the heroes are subject to us; we have no tribute from each other; Ireland is their natural right and ours. I speak of seven champions from among them; (I find no kings to compete with them) for the sake of the seven kings in days of old the Offspring of Conall mention us. Brian; two Aodhs; curly Niall Caille; Niall of the showers, whose children were beautiful; Colum Cille, our presiding judge, gave the palm to Conall of Cime. The stewards of the noble descendant of Domhnall from the Sionainn are about dark Druim Dabhaill; the fair, white bird of Corann came to the assistance of the noble Kindred of Conall of Sabhall. The actions of the king of Eamhain were courageous and delightful, such that his fame went abroad; it would not be possible in poems to him, to enumerate his hostings nor his triumphs. Though an unweaned calf or a fair ox be beautiful, he will not sell it; the flower of the purple nuts is ripe — from now on it is the season to praise him. The regal hero of shining spear slew ├ô Duibh Dhiorma, the rushing impetuous bull; one could not put into a poem that a deed or dealing was done, that he would not do. He deprived the house of wine-dark Fardruim of high ships and vessels left intact; he slew the descendant of noble Maol Fabhaill and he plundered lovely, nut-dark Malainn. The noble hero of Sligeach attacked Aodh and chased him out of his bed; the visitation of the cold beach in Eabar was an outstanding, hard battle-attack. He took along
with them (it is a difficult thing to do) Mag Uidhir in the end, so that he was pursued; bare every house from which he took to the harbour plunder for slender ships. The Foreigners are tamed by his war initiative; the king has their hostages in fetters; the ornate, smooth tower of Sligeach experienced the dragon's prowess. I do not wish to tell of an attack involving a spearful of valour; red was the sword from the encounter he engaged in by the cold bank of the Finn. The harsh attack of the fierce, alert champion devastated as far as Ard Eoghain; he went with torches to carry off plunder from Boirne on a hard raid, worthy of a chieftain. Though he took many cows from us, it would not be right for us to begrudge it him; the kingship of the soft chief of Buill is the cement of our country. It is a rebuke to them if I were to enumerate his noble, fierce valour; I cannot endure limitless prowess; I do not relate even a third of Domhnall's encounters. The son of Domhnall of Domhnach Cobha, his wrath has not
darkened; He was Brian's choice; the king of the palace was always his favourite.
discover whether there ever was anything but day and night!" said the generous chief of Ireland. Unhappy for Laoghaire his eagerness; one person of his line was over Ireland; the family that filled my glove is the beautiful Offspring of fair-tressed Conall. The noble succession of bygone kings follows not the Offspring of Laoghaire; he went to his territory to endure his own anger; his deceiving of Conall was full of consequences for him. Ten kings of the beautiful, young progeny — I ponder their career perpetually — got fair, wine-dark Ireland ere now from the time of Conall of the fair tresses. Ainmhire, who plied his weapons — the young warrior was harsh to foreigners, his sworn intention was not gentle in dire necessity — was the first of them over the five provinces. Dark, swift Domhnall, who meted out his spear in no mild fashion, was one of them; he waged battle against Conghal on the pure-soiled Plain of very bright Rath. Aodh, who was an attacker from all sides, gentle Maol Cabha who needed no fence of
stakes;
generous, handsome Conall and Ceallach of the wavy, fine, luxuriant hair, were of their number. Baodan of Liag, Loingseach of Dobhar — they were powerful over everyone — Conghal of great, wooded Ceann Maghair, the support of the extensive host of Ireland. Laithbheartach, a hero who was never made to flinch, who was like the wind through a showery hail-storm — he would pluck the men of Breagha from sorrow — was the tenth great, mead-loving warrior. If one reckons as far as Domhnall ├ôg, whom every populous region serves, of the Sons of Niall from among the white-sided troop, there are eleven men in the list of kings. I see ten husbands of the kindred, over whom Ireland spread her garment; she had valiant husbands; latterly a goodly hero in their place has got her. There is no juice like the taste of the malt of Domhnall of wooded Dun Cnucha; I will choose no-man's qualities in preference to him; the judgments of God are the extent of his prosperity. The son of Domhnall, ├ô Domhnaill of Tonn Tuaidhe, is the foliage of
our branch; he is the son of Lasairfhiona from Aine, a grain from the gentle streams of Muadh. The fair-tressed descendant of Domhnall of Codhal tolerates no division of Ireland; may the hero set up a protective hedge of thorns hard by the house-wall of the men of Ireland. Every pool that had ebbed away filled up as we made the noble hero king; not more plentiful were cows and milk overflowing on the day that Art Aoinfhear was made king. The flower of every region has become fruit — overhead darkening is wont to produce a like downpour; every tree of white nuts bursts forth with ripeness; every district is full of cows and husbandmen. Every tender wood is equally sheltered and equally abundant; the fruits in his territory are poured out in a flood; the waves in the bay roll in harmony; there is fullness of fry and fish. The waves of the harbour threw a casket onto land for the white, bright salmon of Sionna, whom on earth every good fortune has followed, the noble, gentle prop of Dearg Droma. Heady wine that no
human being gave to ├ô Domhnaill came to wave-girt Druim Tuama; the waves of the sea were bringing wine to the bottom of cold Siodh Aodha. The Sons of Dalach of Domhnall of Teamhair, men from among the numerous Children of Lughaidh, have taken possession of wave-girt Druim Dairbhreach, an apple-filled, tender, pure, salmon-rich wood. Quick and tuneful are the voices of the men — the troop of Sleamhain (?) is the prop of the hosts; prosperous are their wooded, rolling hills, dark their cloaks, green their valleys. Northwards from us go hostages in their halter; alternately the heroes are subject to us; we have no tribute from each other; Ireland is their natural right and ours. I speak of seven champions from among them; (I find no kings to compete with them) for the sake of the seven kings in days of old the Offspring of Conall mention us. Brian; two Aodhs; curly Niall Caille; Niall of the showers, whose children were beautiful; Colum Cille, our presiding judge, gave the palm to Conall of Cime. The stewards of the noble descendant of Domhnall from the Sionainn are about dark Druim Dabhaill; the fair, white bird of Corann came to the assistance of the noble Kindred of Conall of Sabhall. The actions of the king of Eamhain were courageous and delightful, such that his fame went abroad; it would not be possible in poems to him, to enumerate his hostings nor his triumphs. Though an unweaned calf or a fair ox be beautiful, he will not sell it; the flower of the purple nuts is ripe — from now on it is the season to praise him. The regal hero of shining spear slew ├ô Duibh Dhiorma, the rushing impetuous bull; one could not put into a poem that a deed or dealing was done, that he would not do. He deprived the house of wine-dark Fardruim of high ships and vessels left intact; he slew the descendant of noble Maol Fabhaill and he plundered lovely, nut-dark Malainn. The noble hero of Sligeach attacked Aodh and chased him out of his bed; the visitation of the cold beach in Eabar was an outstanding, hard battle-attack. He took along
with them (it is a difficult thing to do) Mag Uidhir in the end, so that he was pursued; bare every house from which he took to the harbour plunder for slender ships. The Foreigners are tamed by his war initiative; the king has their hostages in fetters; the ornate, smooth tower of Sligeach experienced the dragon's prowess. I do not wish to tell of an attack involving a spearful of valour; red was the sword from the encounter he engaged in by the cold bank of the Finn. The harsh attack of the fierce, alert champion devastated as far as Ard Eoghain; he went with torches to carry off plunder from Boirne on a hard raid, worthy of a chieftain. Though he took many cows from us, it would not be right for us to begrudge it him; the kingship of the soft chief of Buill is the cement of our country. It is a rebuke to them if I were to enumerate his noble, fierce valour; I cannot endure limitless prowess; I do not relate even a third of Domhnall's encounters. The son of Domhnall of Domhnach Cobha, his wrath has not
darkened; He was Brian's choice; the king of the palace was always his favourite.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.