English

The wandring Outlaw borne to woe,
and bred a banisht man:
Vntaught the suttle sleights of loue,
of loue this tale began.
When fyrst my sences dranke the sweete,
that gaue my body blood:
I felt no Foe to let my loue,
nor God against my good.
Tyll luste misreckned my delightes,
my wandring ioyes to ende:
And founde her out to stay such toyes,
to stande my trustie friende.
I boast the graunt if all were giuen,
it may, would God it might:
O happie man, more happie mayde,
if all had hit aright.

Wondrous my vision in Eamhain on a still May morning: it indicates to me that something that has not been done will be done. I went one day to view Eamhain on a delectable, remarkable visit; it was a pleasant visitation; serene was my visit to the citadel. I sat in green Eamhain in the fortress of Macha Mongruadh, in the rath in which Mughain dwelt, the dwelling-place of Conchobhar and the rest. I was there a short while, sleep came upon me; about my eye there fell the drowsiness of slumber upon the down of a quilt of cool timothy-grass.

Here is the history of Muan from the battle of Carraig of ancient Cuan, such that the kings of Banbha may be considered, their deeds and the branches of their pedigree. Niall Naoighiallach of the mighty strength was the grandfather of Muan of the tapering fingers; as far as Muir nIocht there is no place where his grandfather's descendants cannot be found. The son of Eoghan, son of modest Niall, was the father of Muan of the great encounters; curly Muireadhach of the hundred slayings was the lock of the gory Men of the Western Land.

Eternal God, O tak away thy scourge
[Now] from us Scottis for thy grit mercìe!
Send us thy help this land to clenge and purge
Of discord, and [of all] inamitie,
Betwix the legis and authoritie,
That we may leif in peax, withoutin deir;
In lawtie, law; in luif and libertie;
With merrines, now into this new yeir.

Almichtie God, send us support and grace!
Of mannis help for we ar all desparit,
To mak concord that had sic tym and space;
And nane, as yet, hes eir] thair lawbor wairit;

Accursed is he who, without affection for his pale face with its soft, grassy down, caused Giolla Pádraig to blush and reddened the cheek of the pale, noble hero—woe to him who ought not have done so—over the matter of a gift. Cursed is he who embarrassed the smiling cheek of the ruddy, dark-taloned hawk; to bring colour to the expanse of the white level of his countenance was a thing unheard of. Accursed is the tongue that brought anger across his royal, havoc-bringing face; O God, to anger the hero as he drank with my kinsmen was an unjust deed.

The Muses calde a Courte of late,
Wherein they deemde of sundry deedes:
To scan eche cause in seate they sate,
The summond peere and law proceedes.
The truth they sought of all mens harts,
And deemde of eche by his desarts.

So some were saude, and some I sawe,
Condemde to dye by Iustice might:
Among the which by course of lawe
Approcht to barre a worthy wight,
Whome festred Enuy sought to spoyle,
By forged lyes his fayth to foyle.

Vpon whose talke he was araynde,

I accuse you, O Áth Seanaigh; everyone has died in your unequal combat; one met guile and shame upon you; poor your profit to the Irish. I accuse you, O ford in the east, at which ere now my fortune was not slight; it is no reproach to you if the fact is whispered: poorly did you withstand the Foreigners. O Éirne, it is a cause for laughter, how Grainne frequented your mouth and all of your pure estuary with its blue eddies; you have now relinquished your pleasant tumult. O Éirne of Fathadh Canann, about whom every fine apple-tree ripened, what ship does not chance your harbour?

Conall, champion of the Sons of Niall, was the noblest son of the proud stock; with him every kin that is in the north went forth in the beginning from Midhe. What brought the Sons of Niall of the nine hostages to Teamhair of Conn, whatever sent them from Lios Floinn there is no-one of us who does not know. Conall's foster-father — hard the oppression — a warrior of the province of Connaught, took up residence in Gulbain; he pressed hard against the rear of the Ulaidh.

Rejois, Henrie, most Christine King of Fraunce!
Rejois, all peopill of that regioun!
That with manheid, and be ane happy chance,
Be thy Levetennent trew, of greit renown,
The Duik of Gweis, recoverit Calice towne.
The quhilk hes bene, twa hundreth yeirs begane,
Into the hands of Inglis natioun;
Quha never thocht be force it micht be tane.

But we may se that mennis jugement
Is all bot vaine, when God plesis to schaw
His michtie power: quha is omnipotent;
For, quhen he plesis, he gars princes knaw

The key of the lock of the Irish is missing; it has been lamented throughout Ireland; weak will they find the grip of the lock since its golden rivet is wanting. The key to seal it is missing: the peace of Ireland will be unsubdued; since the loss Ireland got no peace; her lock has gone abroad. The fostering of the daughter of Ó Domhnaill was the key to the peace of the Offspring of Conn; the taking of Gormlaith eastwards over the mountains closed the doors of war.