Díolaim de dhánta, de liricí agus de rainn thraidisiúnta na Gaeilge ar théamaí spioradálta a léiríonn oidhreacht na Gaeilge sa réimse seo. Ciarán Mac Murchaidh a chuir in eagar. Aistriúcháin go Béarla ar na téacsanna san áireamh.
373 pp, Foilsithe den chéad uair 2005 ag Cois Life. Leis an Leabhar a cheannacht féach: www.coislife.ie
CLÁR/CONTENTS
Dánta / Poems
Admhálacha / Acknowledgements
Brollach – Aistriúcháin – Buíochas
Preface – Translations – Editor’s Acknowledgements
Réamhrá / Introduction
Leabharliosta / Bibliography
Giorrúcháin / Abbreviations
DÁNTA/ POEMS
Sean- agus Meán-Ghaeilge / Old and Middle Irish
1. Tair cucum, a Maire bóid/ Come to me, loving Mary
Blathmac mac Can Brettan
2. In gormríg ro múchta/ The famous kings have been stifled
Óengus, Céile Dé
3. Isam aithrech/ I am repentant, Lord
Óengus, Céile Dé
4. Adram in Coimdid/ Let us adore the Lord
Anaithnid
5. Día lim fri each sním/ God be with me against all trouble
Anaithnid
6. Ísucán/ Christ-child
Anaithnid
7. Cros Chríst/ Christ’s Cross
Mugrón
8. A Dé dúilig, atat-teoch/ O God, Lord of Creation
Airbertach mac Cosse Dobráin
9. Is mebul dom imrádud/ Shame to my thoughts
Anaithnid
10. Rop tú mo baile/ Be thou my vision
Anaithnid
11. Tórramat do nóebaingil/ May thy holy angels tend
Anaithnid
12. In Spirut Naem immunn/ May the Holy Spirit be around us
Maol Íosa Ó Brolcháin
13. A Choimdiu, nom-chomet/ O Lord, protect me
Maol Íosa Ó Brolcháin
14. A Choimdiu baid/ O beloved Lord
Maol Íosa Ó Brolchain
15. Ropo mían dom menmainse/ It were my mind’s desire
Anaithnid
16. Mo labrad/ My speech
Anaithnid
17. Toil ind Ríg/ The will of God
Anaithnid
18. Congair in uissi/ The lark sings
Anaithnid
An Ré Chlasaiceach/ Classical Period
19. Déan oram trócaire, a Thríonnóid/ Have mercy upon me, a Trinity
Giolla Brighde Mac Con Midhe
20. Truagh mo thuras go Loch Dearg/ In vain was my pilgrimage to Lough Derg
Donnchadh Mór Ó Dálaigh
21. Fuaras mian/ I found my desire
Donnchadh Mór Ó Dálaigh
22. Osgail romham, a Pheadair/Open up for me, 0 Peter
Anaithnid [ach luaite Ie Donnchadh Mar Ó Dálaigh]
23. Maith agus maithfidhir duid/Give pardon and thou shalt get it
Pilib Bocht Ó hUiginn
24. Laethanta na seachtaine/ The days of the week
Aonghus Fionn Ó Dálaigh
25. Fáilte ród, a Rí na nAingeal/ Welcome to Thee, Angels’ King
Aonghus Fionn Ó Dálaigh
26. A shaoghail, ón, a shaoghail/ O world, yea, O world
Fear Feasa Ó’n Cháinte
27. Ní rí fíre acht Flaith Nimhe/ There is no true king but the King of Heaven
Fearghal Óg Mac an Bhaird.
28. A dhuine chuireas an crann/ O you who plant the tree
Giolla Brighde Ó hEódhusa
29. A fhir léaghtha an leabhrain bhig/ O reader of this little book
Giolla Brighde Ó hEódhusa
30. Labhair linn, a Mhuire Mháthar/ Speak on my behalf, 0 Mother Mary
Anaithnid
16ú agus 17ú hAois/ 16th and 17th Centuries
31. Caoin tú féin, a dhuine bhoicht/ Keen for yourself, my poor fellow
Séathrún Céitinn
32. Triúr ata ag brath ar mo bhás/ Three there are who await my death
Froinsias Maolmhuaidh [a luaitear leis]
33. Mo-chean do theacht, a sgadáin/ Welcome is your arrival, O herring
Anaithnid
34. Dia do bheatha, a Naoidhe Naoimh/ You are welcome, O Holy Child
Aodh Mac Aingil
35. Na hocht mbeannaíochtaí/ The eight beatitudes
Aodh Mac Aingil.
36. An díbirt go Connachta/ The banishment to Connacht
Pear Dorcha Ó Mealláin
37. Adhraim thú, a thaibhse ar gcrú/ I worship you, O glory of our race
Dáibhí Ó Bruadair
18ú agus 19ú hAois/ 18th and 19th Centuries
38. Páis Chriost/ The Passion of Christ
Séamas Dall Mac Cuarta
39. A Íosa, a Naoimhspioraid/ O Jesus, O Holy Spirit
Anaithnid
40. Marbhna Chathail Bhuí/ The elegy of Cathal Buí
Cathal Buí Mac Giolla Gunna
41. Na Deich nAitheanta/ The Ten Commandments
Aindrias Ó Doinnshléibhe
42. Gile mo chroí do chroí-se/ The light of my heart
Tadhg Gaelach Ó Suilleabháin
43. Machnamh an duine dhoilíosaigh/ The remorseful man’s contemplation
Seán Ó Coileáin
44. Aighneas an pheacaigh leis an mbás/ The sinner’s exchange with death
Pádraig Denn
45. A Rí an Domhnaigh/O King of the Sunday
Tomás Rua Ó Suilleabháin
46. Faoistin Raiftearaí/ Raftery’s confession
Antaine Raiftearaí
20ú hAois/ 20th Century
47. Cuireadh do Mhuire/ An invitation to Mary
Máirtín Ó Direáin
48. Cuimhní Nollag/ Christmas memories
Máirtín Ó Direáin
49. Crainn oíche sheaca/ Frost-night trees
Máirtín Ó Direáin
50. Srnaointe um thráthnóna (Meithearnh 1940)/ Evening thoughts (June 1940)
Máire Mhac an tSaoi
51. I reilig na rnban rialta/ In the nuns’ cemetery
Deirdre Brennan.
52. Sceilig Mhichíl/ Skellig Michael
Deirdre Brennan.
53. Guímis/ Let us pray
Caitlín Maude
54. Cúrsa spioradálta/ Retreat
Máire Áine Nic Ghearailt
55. Oíche Nollag Beag/ Little Christmas Eve
Maire Aine Nic Ghearailt
56. Féile Chorp Chríost/ The Feast of Corpus Christi
Liam Ó Muirthile
57. Aoine an Chéasta/Good Friday
Liam Ó Muirthile
58. Na súile uaine/ The green eyes
Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill
59. Dán do Mhelissa/ A poem for Melissa
Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill
60. Lá Chéad Chomaoineach/ First Communion Day
Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill
61. Aistear/ Journey
Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill
62. Adhradh/ Worship
Áine Ní Ghlinn
63. An tAngelus/ The Angelus
Cathal Ó Searcaigh
64. Transubstaintiú/ Transubstantiation
Cathal Ó Searcaigh
65. Tearmann/ Sanctuary
Cathal Ó Searcaigh
Traidisiún Béil/ Oral Tradition
66. Is peacach bocht mé/ A poor sinner am I
Béaloideas
67. Don Tríonóid Naofa/ To the Holy Trinity
Béaloideas
68. A Mhuire na nGrás/ O Mary of Graces
Béaloideas
69. A Rí na hAoine/ O King of the Friday
Béaloideas
70. A Mhuire Mháthair/O Mother Mary
Béaloideas
71. Go luímid le Dia/ May we lie down with God
Béaloideas
72. An Domhnach/ The Sabbath
Béaloideas
73. Comhairle an tsagairt/ The priest’s counsel
Béaloideas
74. In onóir na Tríonóide/ In honour of the Trinity
Béaloideas
75. Lúireach Phádraig/ St. Patrick’s Breastplate
Béaloideas
76. Seacht suáilce na Maighdine/ The seven virtues of the Virgin
Béaloideas
77. Seacht ndólás na Maighdine/ The seven sorrows of the Virgin
Béaloideas
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Léirmheas |
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69. A Rí na hAoine
A Rí na hAoine do shín do ghéaga ar an gcrois,
a Thiarna, ó d’thulaing tú na mílte ‘s na céadta loit,
sínimid síos faoi dhídean do scéithe anocht;
go scara tú orainn toradh an chrainn ar ar céasadh do Chorp.
Béaloideas [Diarmuid Ó Laoghaire (eag. 1982) Ár bPaidreacha Dúchais. Baile Átha Cliath, lch. 102
Is minic a chuirtear síos ar Chríost mar rí, agus sa traidisiún Ceilteach is lá speisialta sa tseachtain é an Aoine. Tugtar ‘Rí na hAoine’ go han-mhinic ar Chríost mar chuimhneacha.n ar an lá a fuair Críost bás ar an gcrois chéasta.
69. O King of the Friday
O King of the Friday, whose limbs were stretched on the cross.
O Lord, since you did suffer hundred- and thousand-fold great loss.
We stretch ourselves under the shelter of your shield tonight.
May you shower upon us the fruit of the tree of your body’s passion and slight.
Christ is often described as king and in the Celtic tradition, Friday is a day of special significance in the week. Christ is frequently referred to as ‘King of the Friday’ in memory of his death on the cross.
64. Transubstaintiú
Idir an smaoineamh agus an briathar
tá dúichí oighir agus ceo.
Ach beidh mise le mo bheo
ag cascairt an tseaca, ag scaipeadh an cheo
ag gríosadh is ag grianadh
le gaetha tintrí mo chroí
ionas go dtiocfaidh tú fós i mbláath,
tusa nach bhfuil ionat ach scáil.
[Cathal Ó Searcaigh, Ag Tnúth leis an tSolas. Indreabhán 2001:102]
Chuir an dán beag seo Julian of Norwich i gcuimhne dom an chead uair a léigh mé é as bua shimplíocht na teanga atá ann. Tá an dán seo ag streachailt ar bhealach an-ghonta le teagasc dogmach ata casta agus dian, ach is dóigh liom gur sa dáa line dheireanacha atá fuascailt airithe ar an deacracht. Mheabhraigh sé líine as litir Naomh Pól chuig na Colosaigh (2:17) dom: “Nil iontu seo ach scáil i gcomórtas lena bhfuil le teacht; ach is le Críost an corp a chaitheas an scáail sin roimhe.”
64. Transubstantiation
Between the thought and the word
are tracts of ice and mist.
But as long as I live I will
thaw the ice, dispel the mist;
rousing and sunning
with my heart’s lightning bolts
so that you might yet come into bloom,
you who are naught but shadow.
Cathal Ó Searcaigh
This poem reminded me of the teachings of Julian of Norwich the first time I read it because of the gift of its simplicity of language. The poem struggles in a very pithy way with a dogma that is difficult and awkward, but I think that there is a dénouement in the final two lines. It also reminded me of a line from St Paul’s Letter to the Colossians (2:17): “These are only a shadow of what is to come; but the substance belongs to Christ.”
72. An Domhnach
Paidir mholta agus fáilte don Domhnach atá anseo, ina ndéantar buíochas a ghabháil leis an Tiarna as an lá scíthe a chur chugainn i ndiaidh dua agus saothar na seachtaine.
Dé bheatha chugainn, a Dhomhnaigh bheannaithe,
lá breá aoibhinn tar éis na seachtaine,
lá breá aoibhinn chun Críost a agallamh.
Corraigh do chos is téire chun an Aifrinn.
Corraigh do chroí agus díbir an ghangaid as.
Corraigh do bhéal chun bréithre beannaithe.
Féach suas ar Mhac na Banaltran,
Mac na hÓighe, ós é a cheannaigh sinn,
gur leis a bhuafar beo agus marbh sinn.
72. The Sabbath
A prayer of praise and welcome for the coming of Sunday in which the Lord is blessed for his gift of a day of rest after the reek’s toil and labour.
We welcome you here, O blessed Sabbath,
a fine pleasant day at the end of the week,
a fine pleasant day to talk to Christ.
Stir your feet and go to Mass.
Stir your heart and drive out its bitterness.
Stir your lips to words of blessedness.
Look up towards the Son of the Nurse,
the Son of the Virgin, for it is he who redeemed us,
that by him in life and in death we may prosper.
[Padráig Ó Fiannachta (sel.) & Desmond Forristal (transl.). Saltair: Urnaithe Dúchais. Dublin 1988.25]
41. Na Deich nAitheanta
Creid, a Mhic, i nDia go glan.
Ná tabhair ainm Dé gan fáth.
Coimeád an tsaoire mar is cóir.
Tabhair dod’ athair is dod’ mháthair onóir.
Ná déan marú, goid ná drúis,
Ná fianaise bhréige ar aon chúis.
Na santaigh bean nach leat féin,
Clann duine eile ná a airnéis.
Andréas Ó Duinnshléibhe. . An Teagasg Críosduidhe. (An chéad eagrán, Páras 1742) Baile Átha Cliath. 1848:66.
Meastar gur rugadh Andréas Ó Doinnshléibhe timpeall na bliana 1694 i Sligeach. Chuaigh sé go dtí Coláiste na nGael i bPáras sa bhliain 1710, áit a ndearna sé staidéar ar an dlí. D’thoilsigh sé caiticeasma cáiliúil Gaeilge i bPáras sa bhliain 1742, An Teagasg Críosduidhe do reir Ceasda agus Freagartha. Deirtear gur sa bhliain 1761 a fuair sé bás. Is achoimre ar na Deich nAitheanta i bhfoirm véarsaíochta an rann beag thuas.
41. The Ten Commandments
Belief in God alone attain.
His holy name take not in vain.
Preserve the Sabbath as is right.
Give not to parents any slight.
Kill not, thieve not, nor lust commit
Of false witness bear not one whit.
Desire no woman who is not yours,
another’s children or his goods.
It is thought that Andrew Donlevy was born in Sligo around the year 1694. He went to the Irish College in Paris in 1710 where he studied law. He published a famous bilingual catechism in Irish and English while there in 1742, An Teagasg Críosduidhe do reir Ceasda agus Freagartha. He died about the year 1761. The poem below is a summary in verse of Ten Commandments.
INTRODUCTION / RÉAMHRÁ
This anthology is a selection of spiritual poems from among the earliest examples of poetry in the Irish tradition, through the medieval period right down to the present day accompanied by translations in English. The purpose of the collection is to present contemporary readers with a set of poems to illustrate the rich heritage of spiritual material available in the Irish poetic tradition and to provide a body of verse for reflection and contemplation. Hence the title Lón Anama – ‘food for the soul’.
The existing body of early and medieval Irish poems and lyrics was first brought to the attention of the reading public in both their original Irish and translated versions by various eminent scholars in the field of Celtic Studies. Since then, there has been an ongoing debate about the poetry of the early Irish period in particular and whether it should be categorised as ‘nature’, ‘hermit’ or ‘monastic’ poetry. Many scholars have written about early Irish poetry as a brand of religious poetry peculiar to the Irish situation of the time. This view was rarely questioned, but recently scholars have begun to look more carefully at the issue and re-assess what were previously commonly-held views. It is important to acknowledge here the considerable work being done by Celtic Studies scholars in widening and enriching our understanding of the nature of the earliest forms of literature in Irish.
For the purposes of this anthology, however, all the poems which have been selected have, to a greater or lesser degree, a spiritual theme. They were not selected in a conscious attempt to prove the existence of a body of work which might be called ‘Celtic spirituality’. There is, however, a considerable body of poetry in the Irish language from earliest times, which has given expression to human nature’s tendency to reflect about and give praise to God. These poems may be used to help us reflect on the nature of the Godhead and of the human condition itself. They may help to provide the reader with a broad spectrum of the ways in which the relationship between poet and God has been explored, understood and presented in the Irish tradition over a period of some 1,200 years.
It will come as no surprise to the reader that the nature theme so evident in much of the poetry of the early Irish period may be found time and again throughout the poetry of the later periods too. ‘Let us Adore the Lord’ (Poem 4) is a simple four-line poem from the Old Irish tradition, which calls on the reader to join with the poet in worshipping the Lord as he is revealed in his “wondrous works’: Creation comprises both heaven and earth here, as lines 3-4 call on the angels and the waves of the sea to give witness to God’s achievements. The poet in Poem 18, ‘The Lark Sings’, continues this theme in a slightly different way. He reflects on the wonder of the song of the lark and how it communicates something of the immensity of the universe and yet the closeness of God.
This sense of wonder and awe at God’s creation is present in some of the best examples of 20th century poetry. Máire Mhac an tSaoi’s poem on the transience of life, ‘Evening Thoughts (June 1940)’, (Poem 50), captures this sense of the immense beauty of creation in the very first line. The poet tells in these lines how she realises that all earthly beauty passes away through time but still retains some shadow of the divine for all that. In her poem ‘Retreat’ (Poem 54), Máire Áine Nic Ghearailt also explores the mystery of life as it is revealed through the beauty of this world. The momentary epiphany which presents itself to her on coming across a peaceful woodland scene brings her existence almost to a halt. There are echoes in the last verse of the poem of a line from the writings of Mother Julian of Norwich, a thirteenth-century English anchorite and mystic: “All things shall be well. … All manner of things shall be well.” In Chapter 32 of her book Revelations of Divine Love, Mother Julian states her belief that no matter how many obstacles with which the human spirit may be confronted in life, it will invariably rise above them. The ability of a woodland scene to provide Máire Áine Nic Ghearailt with the epiphany she encounters, both spiritual and inspirational, follows the long tradition of the spiritual being revealed through the poetic. It is another example of how poets often use the natural world as a means of revealing their insights into the creator of that world.
Cathal Ó Searcaigh’s short poem, ‘Transubstantiation’ (Poem 64), is also highly evocative of the mystical tradition. His short reflection on a subject which is one of the most complicated and potentially divisive theological dogmas in the Christian tradition distills in two lines the essence of the concept: “… so that you might yet come into bloom,/ you who are naught but shadow:’ For Ó Searcaigh, God’s eternal radiance is hinted at through the beauty of his creation and this is the key to a deeper understanding of the divine as it is made known in the splendour of world around us. Gabriel Fitzmaurice has written of Ó Searcaigh elsewhere that in his poetry he “… frees himself from the puritanism of Irish Catholicism and gains a celebratory vision which informs his poetry, placing him beyond the strictures of dogma where he comes to terms personally with the divine.” (An Bealach ‘na Bhaile: Rogha Dánta, Indreabhán 1993, x ). Certainly in ‘Transubstantiation’ Ó Searcaigh celebrates his personal understanding of God and thereby elucidates the dogma at the same time.
When making reference to Christ as ‘king’ – a frequent practice in the Irish tradition – poets use terminology and concepts that have resonances in the mainstream Christian tradition. The name ‘Christ’ derives from the Greek translation of the Hebrew word ‘Messiah’ which means ‘anointed one’. The gift of gold brought by the Magi at Christ’s birth signifies that he would assume the role of king in due course. Many of the Old Testament prophecies foretelling the arrival of a saviour speak about the coming of a king or use royal metaphors. In the Irish tradition the king (or taoiseach) was the most important person in each small kingdom. It was a common belief that the land would fare well when it was ‘married’ to the true king, i.e. when the right or proper king was reigning, a concept sometimes referred to as hieros gamos. This meant that during times of famine, war or upheaval there would be a natural doubt among the people whether their reigning king was really the true king. Christ is always portrayed in the Irish spiritual tradition as the true king, the King of all kings who will reign when all others have been vanquished. (See Poem 2, vv. 3-5). Even when the Christ-child is portrayed as king, he is still acknowledged as Lord of all. (See Poem 6, v. 3). In Poem 8, ‘O God, Lord of Creation’, Christ is once again referred to as king and the poet commits himself fully to him as if he were his loyal subject. The term appears in penitential poems too, where Christ is king even of the hardship which the penitent must endure in order to cleanse himself before joining himself fully with Christ for ever in heaven. (See Poem 21, v. 1).
The close relationship between the poet and his king is used metaphorically to illustrate the nature of the relationship between the poet and Christ in Poem 21, ‘I Found my Desire’, by Donnchadh Mor Ó Dálaigh. Here Ó Dálaigh draws on the idea that a poet who enjoys a good relationship with his king and patron is blessed. He takes the metaphor a step further, however, and describes the proper relationship between God and the believer as one which is better even than the ideal one between taoiseach and poet. It might be said that the prize which Christ the King but no other can offer is the gift of eternal life. In Poem 25, ‘Welcome to Thee, Angels’ King’, composed by Aonghus Fionn Ó Dálaigh, a poem now frequently used in Irish as a Communion hymn, the poet uses the epithet ‘king’ in various ways to describe Christ. He is “angels’ King”; his flesh is the “Body of the Lord”; he is the “Heir of the High-King” and “King of life”. These terms are closely connected with Eucharistic theology where the Body of Christ is itself regarded as life-giving and life-preserving. Father Lambert McKenna, commenting on Ó Dálaigh’s use of this kind of terminology stated:
Most of the epithets “King of the Palace’: “King of Kings” &c., need no comment; though perhaps the constant and special emphasis laid on the brotherhood of Christ with man may be taken as an illustration of the importance attached to blood-relationship in the old Irish polity. (Danta do chum Aoenghus Fionn Ó Dálaigh. Baile Átha Cliath 1919, ix).
Fearghal Óg Mac an Bhaird’s poem ‘There is no True King but the King of Heaven’ (Poem 27) treats the same theme in a similar way. Christ is “King of Heaven” and “King of the Universe”. He is the “true king’: a title he has earned through the ignominy of his suffering and death on the cross. The cross, we may remind ourselves, is often referred to in the Irish tradition as the ‘tree of life: Tadhg Gaelach Ó Suilleabhain’s famous poem of praise for Christ, ‘The Light of my Heart’ (Poem 42), refers to Christ as a “mighty and splendid High King”. The contrast between the office of High King and the shameful suffering Christ was forced to endure on the cross brings into stark relief the spiritual power of Christ’s role in the story of salvation. It is this role, at once humble and exalted, which brought about the “royal” prize described by Tadhg Gaelach in the final lines of the poem. This is the contradiction of the Christian message in a nutshell. The pain of Christ’s suffering is the very instrument of humankind’s salvation.
Among the earliest references to Mary in the literature of the early Irish period are those found in Saltair na Rann and Félire Óengusso. Here the role normally associated with Mary in the Irish and general Christian traditions (that of mother and mediator) is highlighted. In Poem 1, ‘Come to me, O Beloved Mary’, composed by Blathmac around the mid-eighth century, the poet appeals to Mary to visit him, so that he can keen her Son’s passion and death along with her. In praising the mother, Blathmac praises the son, Jesus Christ. In praising and lauding Jesus, he praises Mary, the Mother of God. The intimacy of the relationship is not overstated but is skilfully crafted to portray an affectionate and reverent link between the two. The references to Mary’s virginity before, during and after the birth of Jesus, which can be found in later verse too, are also found here in these early poems. Other poems from the early period highlight the mediatory role of Mary: “… join us in entreating the just-judging King on behalf of his fair fragrant children.” (Ed. & transl. Gerard Murphy, Early Irish Lyrics. Dublin : 47, for example). Poem 30, ‘Speak on my Behalf, O Mother Mary’, which is from the corpus of Bardic material, is the most complete example of this theme contained in this anthology. It is a long poem of praise for Mary’s influence with Almighty God and assigns her a central role in interceding with God on behalf of the sinner. This influence is concealed behind the gentleness of Mary’s motherhood, but is none the less forthright for all that: “Defend me by consent or force/ against Christ’s claim, if thou canst;/ let me be under thy shelter, O protecting shield,/ when His dues are considered.” (Poem 30, v. 8).
The honour traditionally shown to Mary as the mother of God and the one who brought Christ into the world is also a very common theme running through poems in the Irish tradition. Right up to the modern period, the sentiment finds expression in various ways. Máirtín Ó Direáin’s short lyric, ‘An Invitation to Mary’ (Poem 47) draws a stark contrast between the way in which Mary is turned away from every door on the eve of Jesus’s birth and the welcome that he and others of his small island community would show her were she to have come to their doors on the same night. Here the point is indirectly made that while there will always be those in the world who turn their backs on God, there will also be those who remain faithful to him.
There is a strong element of the penitential or confessional in many of the poems in the Irish tradition. The poet normally bares his soul and confesses openly the wrongdoings of his life. There is usually a plea for mercy as the poet throws himself at the feet of the Saviour in search of forgiveness. The boundless mercy of God through his own suffering and death is frequently hinted at and it is this that prompts the poet to be hopeful, if not confident, of the gift of God’s absolution. While it is sometimes the case that poems of this kind can be a little cloying in tone, sentiment and language, I have selected a number of examples from the wide range available to show that many of them are powerful pleas from the heart. The language is very often deeply moving, heartfelt and profound. It reveals a humility of spirit that can unite reader and poet in a moment of intense spirituality. Poem 3, ‘I am Repentant, Lord’, is one of the earliest examples of this type of poetry. In the course of the poem, the poet uses each stanza to appeal to Jesus in a specific way. He does this by calling on Christ as he is made known through his incarnation, his crucifixion, his ascension and his coming in glory, to heed his calls for mercy. He turns then to the prophets, the apostles, the saintly women of heaven and earth, and finally, in the last stanza, to the people of God on earth to pray for the success of his quest.
Writing some several hundred years later, Donnchadh Mór Ó Dálaigh followed a similar approach in his well-known poem ‘In Vain was my Pilgrimage to Lough Derg’ (Poem 20). The poet’s feeling of desperation derives from a fear that he may not have done enough to warrant Christ’s forgiveness and is keenly felt throughout the poem. He challenges his readers to listen to his words, heed his own situation, and to use the time they have in this life to repent for their sins, before being called to account in the next – something which echoes the message one finds in some of the Gospel stories and parables.
In Pilib Bocht Ó hUiginn’s poem, ‘Give Pardon and Thou Shalt Get It’ (Poem 23), the reader is reminded of Christ’ charge to his listeners, “Grant pardon and you will be: pardoned.”(Luke 6:36-7) Ó hUiginn develops this theme through the course of the poem and in stanza 3 provides us with a neat précis of his understanding of Christ’s message: “The strait I am in is this;/ God and His foe/ can not both find place in a heart;/ it is not made in two parts.” Geoffrey Keating turned to the theme of personal failing and contrition in the 17th century when he composed Poem 31, ‘Weep for Yourself, my Poor Fellow’. Keating charges his readers not to worry about the sinfulness and failings of others but to concentrate on their own salvation and redemption: “Weep firstly for your own sins,/ before your body goes into the: earth./ Weep, for you must pay for/ the Passion Christ suffered for your sake.” (See v. 2). His final verse compounds this call on the reader to wake up to the challenge of the call to holiness and penance. Cathal Buí Mac Giolla Gunna’s ‘The Elegy of Cathal Buí (Poem 40), is a good example of this confessional type of poetry. The poet accuses himself before God of his life-long wrongdoing and throws himself on the mercy of God in the hope that his outright statement of guilt and remorse will soften God’s heart. In the final verse of the poem he states his belief that expressing his true remorse in this way will result in his receiving forgiveness.
All of the poems I have so far mentioned as being indicative of the penitential tradition in Irish verse seem to derive from a deep spiritual struggle within the poet, as he wrestles with his conscience and his faith. Of the poems which come from the modern period, Ó Riordain’s ‘Mount Melleray'(Eireaball Spideoige: 64-7) must be singled out for particular comment. It is regrettable that we did not receive permission to publish those poems by Sean Ó Riordain which were selected for this anthology. ‘Mount Melleray’ is unique in its graphic depiction of that internal wrangle of the flesh and the soul. Patrick Crotty observed that “No twentieth-century Irish poem in either language issues from as deep within Catholic religious consciousness as ‘Cnoc Melleri’ (based on a retreat in the Cistercian abbey in County Waterford.)” (Modern Irish Poetry: Belfast 1999:113). The struggle between the flesh and the spirit, between this world and the next, is incisively captured in the opening stanza. The contrast between the sanctity of the monastery and the battleground of Ó Riordain’s own body and soul is so much starker because of the juxtaposition of the two. The desperation of the poet as he feels the power of the struggle overwhelm him to the point that he seems no longer to care is poignantly portrayed in the third-last stanza. Ó Riordain’s poem represents a significant development in the spiritual poetry of the Irish tradition. He moves away from the traditional pleas of the poet for God’s mercy in the midst of his sinfulness. Here Ó Riordain questions the core Christian concepts of repentance and forgiveness and their relevance in the world of the twentieth century. While he can find no ready answers to the profound questions he addresses, his struggle to understand these concepts provides the reader with a sense of someone who would like to believe but cannot bring himself to fully do so.
Belief in the life to come and the transient nature of this world are issues addressed in the well-known poem ‘It Were my Mind’s Desire’, (Poem 15). The poet wants to follow God’s ways as best he can in this life and his mind is set on the life hereafter. He will try to make the best of this world in the hope that it will lead him to the perfection of the next. Giolla Brighde Ó hEódhusa, in his poem ‘O You who Plant the Tree’ (Poem 28) asks his readers to reflect on the brevity of this life: “O you who plant the tree,/ who shall be alive to pluck its apples?” Here the poet is concerned that if people do not face up to the reality of their own mortality, they will be unprepared to meet God in the life that is to come. This was a common theme of 17th and 18th century religious prose and poetry. Aodh Mac Aingil’s Scáthán Shacramuinte na hAithridhe, for instance, is full of exempla and salutary tales of people’s unreadiness for their moment of death and their subsequent punishment. Mac Aingil hopes to goad people into the realisation that the border-line between life and death is a very fine one and that since we do not know when we will cross that border, the most sensible thing is to be prepared for every eventuality. Christ’s admonition in the Bible: “Therefore you must also be ready; for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.”(Matt 24:4. See also Mark 13:33 and Luke 12:40) is quite likely the stimulus for the concern many religious poets had in urging people to face up to the possibility that their death might be upon them before they were ready. This was part of the ‘pastoral’ approach of the clergy of the 17th and 18th centuries in particular as we find many references to it in the religious prose and sermon material of that period. Ó Coileain’s ‘The Remorseful Man’s Contemplation’ (Poem 43), while reflecting mainly on the fate of the abbey at Timoleague, reveals the poet’s belief that the glory of life, no matter how permanent and well-established it appears to be, will eventually fade and pass away. The poet’s melancholy summary of what his life has become provides the reader with a sobering statement of what is for some people the reality of this world. Máire Mhac an tSaoi’s short lyric ‘Evening Thoughts (June 1940)’ captures in a line and a half the central idea of this general theme when she writes: “O Lord, we who are ephemeral are no more/ than beauty which passes.” (See Poem 50, v. 4). The transience of life and the importance of living it to the full are key concepts addressed by the poets of various literary periods. They are concepts engaged with by each generation in different ways.
The lure of this world often represents for many people the toughest challenge to belief in the afterlife. The question has exercised the minds of the world’s greatest writers, thinkers, philosophers and theologians since time began. The composer of Poem 22, ‘Open up for me, O Peter; describes almost in terms of single combat the struggle between himself and the three-fold adversaries of the world, the flesh and the devil. (See v. 3). The conflict is a constant one ending only in death and the poet pleads for help in engaging these three in the battle of life. In addressing the world almost as if it were a living being Fear Feasa Ó’n Cháinte’s poem, ‘O World, yea, O World’ (Poem 26), also deals with this worldly struggle. Each verse addresses a different aspect of the world’s wiliness, or a different representation of life as he perceives it. It is a powerful reflection on how the world we live in, and its attractions, can drive a wedge into the foundations of our faith and belief. Doubt itself is always the greatest obstacle to a fully-fledged faith. Even the greatest mystics and religious personages of the Christian Church were not always immune to the advance of doubt on their belief. Therese of Lisieux herself struggled with the famous ‘dark night of the soul’. She recalls in her autobiography that when she tried to conceive of heaven in her mind, her experience was that of a kind of darkness which she felt filled her very soul: “It’s all a dream this talk of a heavenly country… and of a God who made it all … death will only give you – not what you hope for – but a still darker night, the night of nothingness.” (Michael Paul Gallagher, Help My Unbelief: Dublin 1983:21).
The struggle with the uncertainties and the doubt that may afflict even those of the strongest faith, are the very things that bring people to cling more fully to their faith or to abandon it altogether. The later poems in this collection engage more fully with this dilemma. Early 20th-century religious poetry in Irish is frequently indicative of an unquestioning type of faith, but the later poetry born out of the poet’s own doubt and insecurity often makes for more compelling reading. Poems which derive from the poets’ questioning of aspects of Church teaching (and here, we are dealing mostly with the teachings of the Catholic Church) often reflect the passion and agony of individuals for whom blind faith is problematic or impossible. It is because poets wrestle with these issues through their creative work that we gain an insight into this very personal aspect of human life – that of the spiritual dimension of the human psyche.
Sometimes this dimension is portrayed in a simple and uncomplicated way, as Deirdre Brennan does in her poem ‘In the Nuns’ Cemetery’ (Poem 51). Here, in her short reflection on the nature of life and of death, she pities the dead nuns who can no longer take pleasure in the simple things of this world – the sounds of children playing or the smell of freshly-baked bread – for example. It is only then she realises that she may well be wrong, as it occurs to her that she may be the one to be pitied since she has not yet passed into the fullness of the next life. There is a realisation that if there is an after-life, then it may well be a spiritual freedom in which the soul can soar – a freedom beyond human understanding. In ‘Skellig Michael’ (Poem 52), Brennan tells of a visit to the eponymous ancient site of Christian monasticism, where she imagines “the storm in soul and body” having driven the men into the solitude of the island retreat. It is almost as if she feels this is something that belongs to an outmoded type of spirituality, which no longer has any place in her life or in the modern world. Thinking about the monks’ struggle with sin and temptation, however, brings her to realise that this particular struggle affects most believers. In the final verse, the poet reveals her delight that the women have reclaimed for themselves this ancient preserve of men. It is almost as if the women’s presence in this former bastion of male spirituality has the effect of restoring what should be a natural balance. The women ‘feminize’ the rock and in so doing restore the balance of God’s creation.
The unsettling effect of faith and belief raises its head in Liam Ó Muirthile’s ‘The Feast of Corpus Christi’ (Poem 56). On witnessing a religious procession taking place, he is reminded of similar processions which were a part of Irish life until not so long ago. The remembrance of dreary religious ceremonies of the faith of his youth brings him to question his shaking off of the ‘old ways’. It may be the case that while the poet has turned his back on Catholic ‘models’ of belief, the models themselves are far more deeply ingrained and embedded than he realises. Something about the scene pricks his conscience in a rather uncomfortable way. Perhaps it is the memory of an unforgettable series of doctrinal images so much part of a certain type of Catholic childhood which cannot so easily be jettisoned that brings on the awkwardness he feels. It is possible that the conflict between institutional religion and simple faith or spirituality are what is at the heart of the poet’s feeling of unease here. Shallow adherence to a Church’s code of belief does not necessarily imply a strong faith in the same way that non-practice is not always an indication that someone does not possess a strong faith. The Jesuit writer, Michael Paul Gallagher, sums up very neatly how this conflict might best be expressed using the metaphor of the temple and the mountain:
Within each person lies another need for a temple, but a distrust of temples as we find them. Just as church forms of religion disappointed Yeats, for us too they can prove eclipses of God rather than gateways to him. Mere temple without mountain can spell shallowness and formalism. In this dividedness, as in many other ways, Yeats was a prophet of our spiritual fate, our unease with mountain alone or temple alone, but our seeming impotence to bridge those two hungers. (Struggles of Faith: Dublin 1990:101).
Caitlín Maude’s long poem, ‘Let us Pray’ (Poem 53), is a call to Christ not to abandon his people but to walk with them on the journey through life and is a powerful expression of her own struggle with belief and faith. The poet succumbs to a moment of desolation in the poem when she states: “As for me/ I lost sight off my solace and my hope/ though I did my best to seek them out:” (See v. 4) but rises again to hope when she writes: “… do not conceal, O Christ, your grace/ raise once again your hands/ renew once more/ your blessing ..:’ (See v. 5). The poems in her work which deal with belief reveal the presence in them of a spiritual quest reminiscent of what St. Anselm described as fides quaerens intellectum: ‘faith seeking understanding’. She addresses the conflict of the spiritual dimension of human belief and the world’s continuing obsession with the material and the ephemeral. For Caitlín Maude it appears that the struggle to believe of itself helps to strengthen the very faith she is at times unsure of.
Some of the best poetry in the modern language has been written as a result of the struggle of the poet with the internal clash of belief and unbelief. These poems are often born out of the sense of alienation or marginalization which the poet experiences in his or her life. Máire Áine Nic Ghearailt explores her feeling of being at sea in a world which has changed almost beyond recognition in every way since her youth. Her poem, ‘Little Christmas Eve’ (Poem 55), describes how she remembers the security and safety of her youth. Her conviction that everything was in its place and that she, too, had her own place in the scheme of things has been shaken by the passage of time so that she now, like the Magi, is “looking for a star/ which shines and stops/ over my own people.” (See v. 2) A sense of isolation shows through in this poem and may stir a similar sense of longing for a time of greater certainty in the reader. The poet is very aware of the way the modern world can isolate and uproot the individual and that this physical, psychological and spiritual uprootedness divorces people from their normal internal balance.
Aine Ni Ghlinn makes no secret of her sense of marginalisation in the poem ‘Worship’ (Poem 62). She speaks very much from the woman’s perspective and for her, the Church is a place where she cannot feel welcome. Church buildings are representative of a patriarchal faith which holds no appeal for her, since she does not feel that she belongs there: “I cannot worship you/ where hammer and chisel/ have ravaged branch and stone” (See v. 1). The poet is amazed that those who profess to preach the faith appear not to be able to see the temple of God’s glory all around them. That is the only place where she feels free to celebrate her faith: “I’ll celebrate my mass under the sky/ I cannot worship you/ in the cold painted idols of the church” (See v. 3). Like Deirdre Brennan, Aine Ní Ghlinn identifies the imbalance in institutional religion and strongly regrets its impact on her faith and the faith of many other women.
These are views also found in the poetry of Cathal Ó Searcaigh. Ó Searcaigh’s own difficulties with the institutional church are clearly expressed in Poem 65, ‘Sanctuary’. God, as the poet understands him, is movingly revealed in and through the rugged and haunting beauty of his Donegal homeland. He presents an alternative notion of the Divine and rejects what he perceives as a monolithic and institutionalized conception. Cathal Ó Searcaigh’s sense of alienation is powerfully stated in this poem but he reclaims the vocabulary of worship for himself. He rejects the iconographic monopoly of the Catholic Church. His sense of disaffection arises from his rejection of Catholic teaching on matters of sexual morality, in particular its stance on homosexuality. Ó Searcaigh has no interest in being “… tormented/ by the harsh piety of the pulpit/ threatening woe on those who transgress.” (See v. 2). He embraces God as he is revealed in the beauty of the world around him, a God who does not restrict or bind people by endless rules and regulations: “No God of Tears … God of Tyranny… is this God I now gaze upon…” (See v. 2). For Ó Searcaigh, faith and belief are shaped by his pantheistic convictions and so can be celebrated without official structures. Ó Searcaigh’s faith is that of the mountain rather than the temple.
Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill suggests that it is life itself which isolates her and that faith is somehow powerless to prevent this happening. Her poem, ‘First Communion Day’ (Poem 60), reveals her maternal instincts as her daughter crosses the first of life’s many rites de passage. She deals here with the importance of the symbolic nature of the sacrament of Eucharist. First reception of Eucharist in the Catholic tradition is a highly spiritual and important occasion because it is the first time the child is deemed to be fully in communion with the family of God’s believers and with God himself. The poet’s fears for her daughter’s passage through life are not allayed by the ceremony, and her tears are a sign of her worry. When her daughter asks her why she is crying, the poet lies because she is afraid to tell her the truth from the adult’s perspective: “… how could I tell her about the life ahead of her,/ about the darkness through which she will have to walk/ alone, despite my very best efforts, and against my will?” (See v. 6). This may also be the first time that the poet as mother realises that she will eventually have to let her child go to make her own way through life. While it is obvious from the poem that the mother is somewhat disengaged from the practice of the faith, she grasps at the sacramental occasion to give her some sense of support at this stage of her life’s journey.
The Irish spiritual tradition has been continuously expressed in verse for over 1,200 years. It is a rich and diverse literary heritage. The poems which may be said to belong to this genre of Irish poetry deal with many aspects of religious practice and belief and I have chosen a selection of poems for this anthology which is indicative of this tradition. The poems and, indeed, the interpretation I have gleaned from them may not please everyone but as the Latin poet Cicero once said: de gustibus non est disputandum. It is best, then, to allow the poems (and their translations) to speak for themselves. This introduction is intended as a general guide for a varied readership. If the poems themselves help people to a better appreciation of the spiritual heritage of the poetic tradition in Irish, then Lón Anama will have achieved its primary aim.
