#The Irish Vision at Rome #### Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition ### Background details and bibliographic information The Irish Vision at Rome ======================== Author: [unknown] ----------------- ### File Description John T. GilbertElectronic edition compiled by Beatrix Färber and Miriam TrojerProof corrections by Miriam Trojer Funded by University College, Cork and The HEA via the LDT Project and PRTLI 4 and The EU under the LEONARDO Lifelong Learning Programme 1. First draft, revised and corrected.Extent of text: 4,300 words#### Publication CELT: Corpus of Electronic Texts: a project of the Department of History, University College, Cork College Road, Cork, Ireland—http://www.ucc.ie/celt (2009) Distributed by CELT online at University College, Cork, Ireland. Text ID Number: T402570AAvailability [RESTRICTED] Available with prior consent of the CELT project for purposes of academic research and teaching only. The electronic edition was published with the kind permission of the Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies who owns the copyright. #### Notes The Gaelic poem of the year 1650, styled the "Irish Vision at Rome," [...] is one of the few contemporary compositions which have come down to us from the native Irish of those times on their own affairs and in their own pleonasms characteristic of Gaelic compositions, the poem is of interest as an expression of the views of a native Irish author at an important epoch of his country's history. The scene is laid in Rome, at the grave of the exiled Ulster chiefs. There the poet represents Erin as appealing, in agonising tones, to the Almighty, on behalf of her people; but, while deploring the deaths of Owen O'Neill and Bishop Mac Mahon, she expresses her confidence in Hugh O'Neill and other surviving Irish leaders, and her belief in the ultimate triumph of their cause. (Gilbert, Cont. Hist. Aff. Irel. 3, vi-vii). #### Sources **Manuscript sources of the Irish original**- Dublin, Royal Irish Academy, 23 K 36, scribe Muiris Mac Thaly, 1704.- Maynooth, Russell Library, M 86, scribe Aodh Buidhe mac Cruitín, 1714.- Dublin, Trinity College Library, H 4 19, scribe Aodh Ó Dálaigh, 1742–46. In this MS, the poem is attributed to Eoghan Ruadh mac an Bháird.- Dublin, National Library, MS 32, formerly Cheltenham, Phillips 9774 , scribe Pronsias Ó Mulloone, 1747–56.- Dublin, National Library, MS 296, formerly Cheltenham, Phillips 14163, scribe Donnchadh Ó Floinn, Ennis, 1763.- Dublin, Royal Irish Academy, 23 I 20, scribe Tadhg mac Ceártheigh, 1771.- Dublin, Royal Irish Academy, 23 B 38, scribe Seumas Ó Murchúghadh, 1778.- London, British Library, MS Egerton 155, scribe Fearghal Ó Raghallaigh, 1790–96.**Editions/translations**2. James Hardiman, Irish Minstrelsy, or, Bardic remains of Ireland, with English poetical translations (London 1831) vol. 2, 306–338. [The translation by Henry Grattan Curran is a free rendering.] 3. Douglas Hyde, Lia Fáil 4, 195–211. 4. Cecile O'Rahilly (ed.), Five seventeenth-century political poems, Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies 1952 (reprinted 1977). **Secondary literature**2. R. B. McDowell, 'The problem of religious dissent in Ireland, 1660–1740'. Bulletin, Irish Committee of Historical Sciences 40 (1945). 3. Jane H. Ohlmeyer (ed.), Ireland from independence to occupation 1641–1660 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1995). 4. Joep Leerssen, Mere Irish and Fíor-Ghael: studies in the idea of Irish nationality, its development and literary expression prior to the nineteenth century (Critical Conditions: Field Day Essays, Cork University Press 1996). 5. Jane H. Ohlmeyer, 'The civil wars in Ireland'. In: John Philipps Kenyon; Jane H. Ohlmeyer (eds.), The civil wars: a military history of England, Scotland, and Ireland 1638–1660 (Oxford: Oxford University Press 1998) 73–102. 6. Micheál Ó Siochrú, Confederate Ireland 1642–1649: a constitutional and political analysis. Dublin: Four Courts Press, 1998. 7. Jane H. Ohlmeyer (ed.), Political thought in seventeenth-century Ireland: kingdom or colony. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press in association with the Folger Institute, Washington, DC, 2000. 8. Pádraig Lenihan, Confederate Catholics at War 1641–49, Cork: Cork University Press, 2001. 9. Michelle O'Riordan, Irish Bardic Poetry and Rhetorical Reality (Cork 2007). **The edition used in the digital edition**2. **John T. Gilbert**, The Irish Vision at Rome in A Contemporary History of Affairs in Ireland from 1641 to 1652. , Dublin , for the Irish Archaeological and Celtic Society (1880) volume 3pages 190–196 ### Encoding #### Project Description CELT: Corpus of Electronic Texts #### Sampling Declaration The present text represents pp. 190–196 of the volume 3, Appendix. Cecile O'Rahilly has stated that the translation given in Gilbert's volume is that of Hardiman's version. #### Editorial Declaration ##### Correction Text has been proofread once. ##### Normalization The electronic text represents the edited text. ##### Quotation There are no quotations. ##### Hyphenation The editor's hyphenation has been retained. ##### Segmentation div0=the poem; stanzas are marked lg; and metrical lines l. Line-breaks are marked lb/ every five lines. ##### Interpretation Names are not tagged, nor are terms for cultural and social roles. Foreign words are tagged. ### Profile Description Created: By an unkown translator. (19th century) #### Use of language ##### Language: [EN] The text is in English. ##### Language: [GA] Some words are in Irish. ### Revision History * (2009-08-05) Beatrix Färber (ed.) * SGML and HTML files created. * (2009-07-31) Beatrix Färber (ed.) * Whole file proofed (2); file parsed; additions made to header. * (2009-07-28) Miriam Trojer (ed.) * File proofed and encoded to end; header constructed in line with Irish companion file. * (2009-03-06) Beatrix Färber (ed.) * File proofed and encoded to line 65. * (2008-10-15) Beatrix Färber (data capture) * Text captured. --- #### Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition: T402570A ### The Irish Vision at Rome: Author: [unknown] --- p.190 1. I tell of a vision—no untrue tale; It was seen by my own eyes; It was heard with my own ears— No part of it shall be concealed. 5] On a morning, I, alone, At Home on the Golden Hill of Cephas, Lay on a tomb-stone, shedding tears, Grieving over the grave of the noble Gaels. Beneath slept two, liberal of gifts— 10] Deeply would they have mourned my condition— The great Earl of Tir Eoghain, land of the brave Mall, And O Donel, of the keen gold-hilted swords. As I lay oppressed with grief, Whom did I see descend from the summit 15] But a white-necked, pearly maiden, Who would have won the prize from Venus for beauty, And from Minerva for form and grace. Elegantly traced were her slender eyebrows, Gold shone through her tresses, 20] Snow and flame mingled in her cheek. On that spot to me she said, In a voice more melodious than harps, ‘Depart from the grave of the mighty chiefs;’ ‘Long did they mourn—slowly broke their hearts.’ 25] Then, full of emotion and agony, She uttered a wail most mournful, Sad enough to draw tears from clerics, Even from stones—if possible. Then, wailing, she uplifted her arms, 30] 'And, with eyes raised to heaven, Addressed the King of the sky In these doleful words: O great God! I pray thee to hear me Is it sinful to ask a brief question? --- p.191 35] Difficult seemingly to the learned, But to Thee all is plain. Uninformed I am and ignorant; But if all mankind Inherit the sin of the first man, 40] Our father Adam, misled by Eve, Why should punishment be inflicted Most heavily on one race? Why should lowly slaves be freed? Why should those once free be now enslaved? 45] Why are the poor and innocent hanged, And the guilty left joyful? Why are not heretics extirpated? Why are the faithful persecuted by evil-doers? Why are not Lutherans punished, 50] While true believers are done to death? Why are the lambs left bleeding? Why are wolves allowed to prey on the flocks? By what justice is Erin cast down? Why are her groans unheeded? 55] Why are not the Gaels exalted? A people who at all times obeyed God. Since the advent of Holy Patrick, With the faith to Inis Ealga, Neiher reverse, nor pain, nor affliction, 60] Nor foreign might, nor sore oppression Could take Christ's faith from the hearts of the Gaels. Their light was brilliant as the sun— It glittered as an angel, On it there fell neither blemish, stain, nor spot, 65] Throughout Fodhla, on the sons of Miled. Alas, O Christ! this is true indeed. What dost thou require of us? Wilt thou not listen? Or is it thy will never again to look upon us— Upon us, who have always adored thee, 70] Now punished unjustly under the Saxons. Surely, it was the Saxon brood, low And treacherous, which deserved to have been forsaken. They cast off the yoke of the Church And scoffed at the Mother of the only Son ; 75] They would not submit to God, But destroyed faith with venomous heresy. I desire not to name Henry the King, Who foully put away his wife For Ann Boleyn—his own daughter— 80] And left the Church for Luther's teaching. With him I class Elizabeth, Who would not wed, but abandoned virtue, And wrought treachery on many. She made a wilderness of Eber's plain, And extirpated its men and women. 85] Mary Stuart she put to death: To Elizabeth succeeded James, --- p.192 Omen of desolation to Felim's land. He trampled down their race and stock; Their lands he measured with cords; 90] Poem He put Saxons in the place of Gaels, And set up false religion in the churches. Soon after him came Charles— Like his father in deceit and falsehood. Unjust was his yoke on Leath Chuin. 95] Every man in Leath Mogha was persecuted. He took from them their rents and rights, Their wealth, their sons, their weapons, their armour, With a third of their land and titles. It was he who required them to forsake God. 100] He forbade parish mass-hearing; He proscribed the Gaelic tongue, And commanded Saxon speech for all. By him were mass and music prohibited. Every horror has been wrought upon Erin; 105] A perpetual deadly curse is rained upon her; An atom of what was done would have been woe enough. I know not of the cause For which they were first oppressed. It was God's will to eschew this prince 110] And those who did him homage. Parliamentarians, vile boors, Beheaded, with a keen sword, This fair-headed, evil King. During their time Erin awoke, 115] And in Ulster uprose the first man— Mac Guire, of heroic Fenian race, And Mac Mahon, as in former time, Two valiant, true-hearted lions, Who prized not worldly wealth ; 120] With treacherous strangers they treated not. Until they together shed Their blood in crimsom pools, For love of the faith which they would not forsake. Not through dislike do I pass by Felim 125] The red-white, curled, noble youth, Who made adventurers yell, And wrested spoil from niggard Scots. Then it was the hero set sail From Spain, in full array. 130] The pure Owen Roe of the death-dealing host, Champion of spoils son of valiant Art, Grandson of Cormac the great O'Neill. Victorious hand, never worsted in fight, To this truth myself I pledge. 135] On many a danger did Owen look From his first days of childhood Till Christ ended his career. --- p.193 To attest this I appeal to God And to Spain, now full of grief for him; 140] And to Almaigne, the favored of Caesar; And to France, which bravely fought him; And to the Low Countries, which are sad without him; And to the clans of Miled in the Kingdom of Erin. One half of Owen's deeds I cannot tell: 145] To the province of Ulster he brought relief in distress; He mastered the strangers there, And swiftly drove away Leslie; He set on foot Montgomery of the fetters He scared the bare Scots; 150] He wrought confusion on their people And broke down the fort of the false Moore. The brave man leagured Dublin city And laid waste its country. In Meath, of the treacherous Foreign Gaels, 155] At Portlester, he slew hundreds. He struck terror into Birra and Nenagh, And from thence to Thpmond of Eber. He carried away spoil, in the face of the foe, From Inchiquin, over the mountain top. 160] He brought to submission all Waterford And Duncannon of the arid channels, Loch Garman of sharp weapons, Ross and the fort of Ben Edair. By force he reduced Kilkenny. 165] Mighty were his arms by the Shannon side, By the Abhan mdr, by the Nore, And by the rapid-rushing Barrow. On the banks of Suir his troops were busy, And from thence again to Erne. 170] He held revels in the rath of Meadhbh, From Athlone he exacted fealty, And thence westward to distant Beara. He smashed the walls at Baile Seamuis, He made Sligo tremble at his glance, 175] And by him the strangers were bound. By Mac Duach was told the pleasing news— In every harbour of Erin, It was said, declared, predicted, read, That the strangers had been suppressed. 180] Owen the red, borne on the shoulders of the Gaels, A noble hero, lamb-like, airy, Standard-bearing, victorious, dauntless, blow-dealing, Preying, searching, protecting, wounding, 185] Comely, curled, poetic, humane, Acute, diligent, plundering, festive, An active hero, a ready soldier, Keen bladed, swift, agile, bounding: A majestic, unsullied, stately cavalier, --- p.194 190] Mighty, proud, haughty, armoured, Law-giving, foraging, routing, advancing, Loving, pleasing, social, prosperous. Let all know that if this bird had lived The flock would not be in the Phoenix nest, 195] Neither strangers nor Cromwell would have been obeyed As they have been since the hour of his death. Although it is my grief that he has died, His death to me is no cause of woe, Since his days were shortened not by strangers, 200] But by God, who was pleased to free him. Soon after him came with vigour The warlike lion, Bishop Emer, The man of steady, active head, Who excelled all in learning. 205] The most upright-hearted of the Gaels. He broke the spirit and the law of the strangers, Stripped them of authority in Erin, And scattered the hosts of Charles. Woe for me was the shortening of his days, 210] Not less my grief that he was Bishop of Down. Alas for the nobles of Ulster—the heroic champions; Alas for Henry Ruadh, inheritor of valour. Mac Guire, the Gaelic-hearted, And O'Cahan, the bounding hound, 215] The hero of the routs, Felim, son of Tuathal, My blessing on them—I cannot name them. I am wretched, forsaken, persecuted. I ask again, oh mighty Son, Where be the prophecies of Holy Patrick? 220] Of Berchan, or gentle Senan, Of Ciaran of Cluain, obeyed by all, Of Colum Cille, the cheerful-faced; Of Cailin, of Ultan, the laborious, Of Colman Ele, whose food was the green grass. 225] Alas, alas, bitter is my sorrow, My cry, my wail, my weakness, My woe, my groan, my darkness, my acute grief, My omen, my ruin, my madness, my anguish. A third of their afflictions I know not: 230] The Gaels are being wasted and deeply wounded, Subjugated, slain, extirpated By plague, by famine, by war, by persecution. It was God's justice not to free them. They went not together hand in hand. 235] The land was not firmly united, And the clerics were ever divided. Some abounded in falsehood, Some aided the heretic horde, Many submitted to the strangers, 240] Some craftily deceived the Gaels, Some affected to espouse the cause of Erin While in secret they ever deserted her, --- p.195 Some feigned to oppose the strangers To whom they stealthily adhered. 245] My curses shall ever rain on such clerics, And on their people till the judgment day— On those who loved not each other— Who made a wilderness of Eber's plain, Who rejected the noble Gaels, 250] And on whom fell the curse of the last Nuncio, John Baptista, Archbishop of Fermo, Sole Legate of the Pope in Erin. This is the cause of my tears; This is the cause which has truly grieved me; 255] This has cast a shadow on the sun's light; This has clouded the sky with gloom and terror; This has cast Europe under an eclipse, And put Christ's faith once more under a cloud ; My curse for ever on the wolfish race. 260] Yet I will not abandon hope, Since of Miled's stock there still survives Hugh the swarthy, sprung from heroic sires. The seers foretold that he Shall scatter the strangers far and wide. 265] Still live the red-haired, fair-faced Felim, And Colonel Fearghal, the valiant hero, And Aed O'Brian—equal to hundreds— And O'Cavanagh, and the brave O'Tuathal. Still live the yet unvanquished bands— 270] O'Ruarcs, O'llaghalliaghs, and O'Briens, O'Kellys, not weak in war, O'Conors, cavaliers renowned in story. And the Mac Carthys, unstained by treachery, The Dalcais of mighty deeds,—O'Briens, 275] Sprung from Eremon and great Eber; And the men of Munster—land beloved of bards— And the Ulstermen, victors in a hundred fights, O'Maoileachlainn, the bounding hero, O'Maelmuaidh, the valiant leader, 280] Mac Cochlan of the white-walled forts, O'Diomsaidh, the rushing wolf, O'Carrol, with the soldiery of Eile, O'Sullevan, from Beara's plain, O'More, O'Floinn, O'Doinn of the hills. 285] Soon will the heroes combine; And, united hand in hand, They will vanquish the strangers at Saingel, And rout the foreigners at Mullaghmaistin. Then none shall league with the Saxon, 290] Nor with the half naked Scot. Then shall Erin be freed from settlers, Then shall perish the Saxon tongue. The Gaels in arms shall triumph Over the crafty, thieving, false sect of Calvin. --- p.196 295] Their nobles shall bear sway over unbelievers, And scatter the brood of Luther. True faith shall be uncontrolled; Poem The people shall be rightly taught By friars, bishops, priests, and clerics, 300] And everlasting peace shall dwell in Erin. pray God—may He deign to hear— I pray Jesus—who sees all— And the holy Spirit with—one accord— Mary, our Mother, and Patrick of the shining tooth, 305] Colum of my heart, and holy Brigid, That the Gaels may band together And achieve the great exploit, To drive out the strangers and set Erin free. Here ended the beauteous maiden 310] Whom I have described to you. Suddenly, clapping her hands She ascended swiftly to the clouds. Thus she left me all alone— Prostrate on the tombstone of the Gaels— 315] Without voice, vigour, or motion, Full of woe, affrighted at her tidings. I declare the age of the Lord in the year When I stood in Rome, a tearful stranger, One thousand with a half five tens and one hundred. 320] Thus ends my story to you. May consolation come to the maiden who last night stood at O'Neill's grave With anguished heart, wailing for the noble Gael. Though I, miserable and weak, was deserted by her, Deep is my love for her and for those of whom she spoke.