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Prev | Next | Contents | Main Page PAGE 98The "Lament of Deirdre," one of the finest of the older Irish poems, has been rendered by Thurneysen and by others, among which should be specially mentioned Miss Hull, in the Cuchullin Saga, pp. 50-51. O'Curry's and O'Flanagan's versions seem to be very far from correct, and it will be more convenient to give that literal translation which seems nearest to the original, instead of indicating divergencies. The literal translation adopted runs as follows:
Naisi, with mead of delicious hazel-nuts (came), to be bathed by me at the fire, Ardan, with an ox or boar of excellence, Aindle, a faggot on his stately back. Though sweet be the excellent mead to you which is drunk by the son of Ness, the rich in strife, there has been known to me, ere now, leaping over a bank, frequent sustenance which was sweeter.
For Conor, the king, is melody Like the sound of the wave the voice of Naisi,
it was a melodious sound, one to hearken to for ever,
Ardan was a good barytone, Naisi is laid in his tomb, Dear is Berthan, beautiful its lands, stately the men, though hilly the land, it is sorrowful that to-day I rise not to await the sons of Usnach. Dear the mind, firm, upright, Dear his gray eye, which women loved, it was evil-looking against enemies, after circuit of the wood (was) a noble assembly, dear the tenor through the dark wood. I sleep not therefor,
There is no leisure or joy for me What, O Conor, of thee? The man who under heaven was fairest to me,
the man who was so dear His absence is the cause of grief to me, the shape of the son of Usnach shows itself to me, a dark hill is above his white body which was desired before many things by me. His ruddy cheeks, more beautiful than meadows (?),
red lips, eyebrows of the colour of the chafer,
his teeth shining like pearls, Well have I known his splendid garb
among the warrior men of Alba; His tunic of satin of costly price, on it a hundred pearls could be counted, goodly the number (lit. "a smooth number" ? a round number), for its embroidery had been used, it was bright, fifty ounces of findruine (i.e. white bronze). A gold-hilted sword in his hand, Fair Fergus brought injury upon us If there were upon this plain Break not to-day my heart (O Conor!),
soon shall I reach my early grave, Prev | Next | Contents | Main Page
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