Irish Myths and Legends

[jembo]

A Wolf Story
TRANSFORMATION into wolves is a favourite subject of Irish legend, and, many a wild tale is told by the peasants round the turf fire in the winter nights of strange adventures with wolves. Stories that had come down to them from their forefathers in the old times long ago; for there are no wolves existing now in Ireland. A young farmer, named Connor, once missed two fine cows from his herd, and no tale or tidings could be heard of them anywhere. So he thought he would set out on a search throughout the country; and he took a stout blackthorn stick in his hand, and went his way. All day he travelled miles and miles, but never a sign of the cattle. And the evening began to grow very dark, and he was wearied and hungry, and no place near to rest in; for he was in the midst of a bleak, desolate heath, with never a habitation at all in sight, except a long, low, rude shieling, like the den of a robber or a wild beast. But a gleam of light came from a chink between the boards, and Connor took heart and went up and knocked at the door. It was opened fit once by a tall, thin, grey-haired old man, with keen, dark eyes.

"Come in," he said, "you are welcome. 'We have been waiting for you. This is my wife," and he brought him over to the hearth, where was seated an old, thin, grey woman, with long, sharp teeth and terrible glittering eyes.

"You are welcome," she said. "We have been waiting for you--it is time for supper. Sit down and eat with us."

Now Connor was a brave fellow, but he was a little dazed at first at the sight of this strange creature. However, as he had his stout stick with him, he thought he could make a fight for his life any way, and, meantime, he would rest and eat, for he was both hungry and weary, and it was now black night, and he would never find his way home even if he tried. So he sat down by the hearth, while the old grey woman stirred the pot on the fire. But Connor felt that she was watching him all the time with her keen, sharp eyes.

Then a knock came to the door. And the old man rose up and opened it. When in walked a slender, young black wolf, who immediately went straight across the floor to an inner room, from which in a few moments came forth a dark, slender, handsome youth, who took his place at the table and looked hard at Connor with his glittering eyes.

"You are welcome," he said, "we have waited for you."

Before Connor could answer another knock was heard, and in came a second wolf, who passed on to the inner room like the first, and soon after, another dark, handsome youth came out and sat down to supper with them, glaring at Connor with his keen eyes, but said no word.

"These are our Sons," said the old man, "tell them what you want, and what brought you here amongst us, for we live alone and don't care to have spies and strangers coming to our place."

Then Connor told his story, bow he had lost his two fine cows, and had searched all day and found no trace of them; and he knew nothing of the place he was in, nor of the kindly gentleman who asked him to supper; but if they just told him where to find his cows he would thank them, and make the best of his way home at once.

Then they all laughed and looked at each other, and the old hag looked more frightful than ever when she showed her long, sharp teeth.

On this, Connor grew angry, for he was hot tempered; and he grasped his blackthorn stick firmly in his hand and stood up, and bade them open the door for him; for he would go his way, since they would give no heed and only mocked him.

Then the eldest of the young men stood up. "Wait," he said, "we are fierce and evil, but we never forget a kindness. Do you remember, one day down in the glen you found a poor little wolf in great agony and like to die, because a sharp thorn had pierced his side? And you gently extracted the thorn and gave him a drink, and went your way leaving him in peace and rest?"

"Aye, well do I remember it," said Connor, "and how the poor little beast licked my hand in gratitude."

"Well," said the young man, "I am that wolf, and I shall help you if I can, but stay with us to-night and have no fear."

So they sat down again to supper and feasted merrily, and then all fell fast asleep, and Connor knew nothing more till he awoke in the morning and found himself by a large hay-rick in his own field.

"Now surely," thought he, "the adventure of last night was riot all a dream, and I shall certainly find my cows when I go home; for that excellent, good young wolf promised his help, and I feel certain he would not deceive me."

But when he arrived home and looked over . the yard and the stable and the field, there was no sign nor sight of the cows. So he grew very sad and dispirited. But just then he espied in the field close by three of the most beautiful strange cows he had ever set eyes on. "These must have strayed in," he said, "from some neighbour's ground;" and he took his big stick to drive them out of the gate off the field. But when he reached the gate, there stood a young black wolf watching; and when the cows tried to pass out at the gate he bit at them, and drove them back. Then Connor knew that his friend the wolf had kept his word. So he let the cows go quietly back to the field; and there they remained, and grew to be the finest in the whole country, and their descendants are flourishing to this day, and Connor grew rich and prospered; for a kind deed is never lost, but brings good luck to the doer for evermore, as the old proverb says:

"Blessings are won,
By a good deed done."

But never again did Connor find that desolate heath or that lone shieling, though he sought far and wide, to return his thanks, as was due to the friendly wolves; nor did he ever again meet any of the family, though he mourned much whenever a slaughtered wolf was brought into the town for the sake of the reward, fearing his excellent friend might be the victim. At that time the wolves in Ireland had increased to such an extent, owing to the desolation of the country by constant wars, that a reward was offered and a high price paid for every wolf's skin brought into the court of the justiciary; and this was in the time of Queen Elizabeth, when the English troops made ceaseless war against the Irish people, and there were more wolves in Ireland than men; and the dead lay unburied in hundreds on the highways, for there were no hands left to dig them graves.


by Lady Francesca Speranza Wilde

[jembo]

Fionn mac Cumhaill is a celebrated hero in Irish literature, with stories concerning him continuous in the literature for well over a thousand years. Fionn is always portrayed as a great warrior and seer. As a seven-year-old boy, he met on the banks of the Boyne with a seer called Finneigeas. Finneigeas had dedicated the past seven years of his life to catching the Salmon of Knowledge, which swam in the river and would impart the knowledge of the world on the first person to taste it .

http://library.thinkquest.org/C005417/SalofKno.htm?tql-iframe

[jembo]

Danu (Irish Goddess)In Irish mythology, Danu ([ˈdanu]; modern Irish Dana [ˈd̪ˠanˠə]) is the mother goddess of the Tuatha Dé Danann (Old Irish: "The peoples of the goddess Danu"). Though primarily seen as an ancestral figure, some Victorian sources also associate her with the land.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Danu_(Irish_goddess)

[jembo]

Fianna (singular fian) were small, semi-independent warrior bands in Irish mythology and Scottish mythology. They are featured in the stories of the Fenian Cycle, where they are led by Fionn mac Cumhaill. They are based on historical bands of landless young men in early medieval Ireland known as kerns.

The historical institution of the fian is known from references in early medieval Irish law tracts. A fian was made up of landless young men and women, often young aristocrats who had not yet come into their inheritance of land. A member of a fian was called a fénnid; the leader of a fian was a rÃgfénnid (literally "king-fénnid).

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fianna

[Eileen]

I love this thread jembo!

[jembo]

I love this thread jembo!

Thanks Elieen......wish there were a few more posters though.

[Eileen]

You're doing a brilliant job! I think people just like to read what you've posted. Many of these I've never heard before. I love that!!

[Rashers]

Jembo. At primary school we were taught many of the myths and legends of ancient Ireland, but there was a story we were told at school that caught my attention and in later years caused me to question if these old stories had some truth in them.

I'm not sure of the names, but the story was about an old man and his grandson (I think) who went fishing. The old man warned the young man to be careful that he didn't taste of the salmon of knowlege if it should be caught.

The salmon was caught and the boy was warned again that he must not taste the fish.

While turning the fish over the fire the young man burned his thumb and in a reflex action put his thumb in his mouth to ease the pain.

The old man then told him that he now had new knowledge after tasting the fish.

I probably have most of that wrong, but I enjoyed the story.

In latter days we are told that eating fish is good for the brain, and perhaps the thought processes.

One must wonder if the ancients knew something that we are only discovering to be true in recent times.

[bigby]

THE LEGEND OF FIONN MacCUMHAILL


Fionn MacCumhaill was a mythical Irish warrior. His name has a number of different spellings and anglicized forms including Finn McCool and Fionn MacUmaill. The name Fionn is taken from the Gaelic word that translates as 'fair' likely referring to lightly coloured hair. Fionn was the son of Cumhaill who leader of the ancient Fianna, a band of mercenary warriors who lived apart from the rest of Gaelic society.

Hi mother was Muirne, who was daughter to Tadg mac Nuadat, a druid. Cumhaill kidnapped Muirne when her father refused him permission to wed. Outlawed by the High King of the time, Conn of the Hundred Battles, the subsequent battle of Cnucha resulted in the demise of Cumhaill by Goll MacMorna, who assumed leadership of the Fianna.

The now pregnant Muirne was exiled and was placed under the care of Fiacal MacConchinn, Cumhaills brother-in-law. After bearing her child Muirne left him in the care of his new family and a warrior woman named Liath Luachra, who was responsible for teaching him the ways of war and the Fianna. He was also tutored by Finnegas, the druid poet who had spent years searching for the 'salmon of knowledge', a mythical create that could endow all of the knowledge of the world. Eventually he caught the fish and instructed the young Fionn to cook it for him. While cooking the fish over the fire he scalded his thumb on the hot flesh and instinctively put the thumb to his mouth, instantly gaining the wisdom long sought after by Finnegas.

As an adult Fionn traveled to Tara, seat of the High Kings of Ireland. For 23 years the fairy Aillen razed the site to the ground every Samhain having first lulled its guards into slumber with her music. Fionn managed to defeat Aileen however, by keeping himself awake by piercing his own skin with the point of his spear. His nobility was recognised and Goll MacMorna, who was still leader of thr Fianna, stepped aside to allow Fionn assume his rightful place. Gol even gave Fionn his home at the Hill of Almu as recompense for the death of his father.

His most famous wife was Sadbh who had been turned into a deer by the druid Fer Doirich. While out hunting, the hounds of Fionn, Bran and Sceolang, recognised the deer as a once-human form, since they too had once been human. Fionn did not kill the deer who was immediately transformed into his beautiful wife. She bore him a son, Oisin, who later became one of the greatest of all of the Fianna. The druid Fer Doirich returned however and re-cast Sadbh as a deer who then vanished into the forest forever.

Later in his life the reigning High King, Cormac mac Airt, promised Fionn the hand of his daughter Grainne. It was not be however as Grainne and Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, another of the Fianna, eloped with Fionn in pursuit. The mater was resolved when Fionn allowed the lovers to be together, only for him to take revenge in later life by not using his powers to heal Diarmuid and prevent his death, after he had been gored by a boar.

Fionn is credited with creating the Giants Causeway as stepping stones from the North of Ireland to Scotland. Another legend tells how he threw a large piece of the land into the sea at an enemy, that piece of land becoming the Isle of Man. The hole left behind by the clump of land he threw became Lough Neagh.

The death of Fionn MacCumhaill is shrouded in mystery. One legend suggests that he is not dead but merely sleeping in a cave under Dublin, ready to strike back against Ireland's enemies.



THE LEGEND OF FIONN MacCUMHAILL - An article provided by The Information about Ireland Site.

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[jembo]

Nuada
by Amy M. Durante

Also Nudd or Ludd. "Silver Hand." The Irish/Celtic chieftain-god of healing, the Sun, childbirth, youth, beauty, ocean, dogs, poetry, writing, sorcery, magic, weapons, and warfare. Similar to the Roman god Neptune, Nuada also had an invincible sword, one of four great treasures of the Tuatha Dé Danann, that he used to cleave his enemies in half.
After Nuada lost his hand in battle, he was deemed ineligable to by king and was replaced by Bres. His brother Dian Cecht, the great god of healing, fashioned him a silver hand for a substitution. By this time Bres had become a tyrannical leader and was exiled by the Tuatha Dé, and Nuada returned to his position as king. He was later killed by the god of death Balor.

Another source:-

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nuada

[Deirdre]

Loving this thread as well

[jembo]

The Stolen Bride
ABOUT the year 1670 there was a fine young fellow living at a place called Querin, in the County Clare. He was brave and strong and rich, for he had his own land and his own house, and not one to lord it over him. He was called the Kern of Querin. And many a time he would go out alone to shoot the wild fowl at night along the lonely strand and sometimes cross over northward to the broad east strand, about two miles away, to find the wild geese.

One cold frosty November Eve He was watching for them, crouched down behind the ruins of an old hut, when a loud splashing noise attracted his attention. "It is the wild geese," he thought, and raising his gun, waited in death-like silence the approach of his victim.

But presently he saw a dark mass moving along the edge of the strand. And he knew there were no wild geese near him. So he watched and waited till the black mass came closer, and then he distinctly perceived four stout men carrying a bier on their shoulders, on which lay a corpse covered with a white cloth. For a few moments they laid it down, apparently to rest themselves, and the Kern instantly fired; on which the four men ran away shrieking, and the corpse was left alone on the bier. Kern of Querin immediately sprang to the place, and lifting the cloth from the face of the corpse, beheld by the freezing starlight, the form of a beautiful young girl, apparently not dead but in a deep sleep.

Gently he passed his hand over her face and raised her up, when she opened her eyes and looked around with wild wonder, but spake never a word, though he tried to soothe and encourage her. Then, thinking it was dangerous for them to remain in that place, he raised her from the bier, and taking her hand led her away to his own house. They arrived safely, but in silence. And for twelve months did she remain with the Kern, never tasting food or speaking word for all that time.

When the next November Eve came round, he resolved to visit the east strand again, and watch from the same place, in the hope of meeting with some adventure that might throw light on the history of the beautiful girl. His way lay beside the old ruined fort called Lios-na-fallainge (the Fort of the Mantle), and as he passed, the sound of music and mirth fell on his ear. He stopped to catch the words of the voices, and had not waited long when he heard a man say in a low whisper--"Where shall we go to-night. to carry off a bride?" And a second voice answered--Wherever we go I hope better luck will be ours than we had this day twelvemonths."

"Yes," said a third; "on that night we carried off a rich prize, the fair daughter of O'Connor; but that clown, the Kern of Querin, broke our spell and took her from us. Yet little pleasure has he had of his bride, for she has neither eaten nor drank nor uttered a word since she entered his house."

"And so she will remain," said a fourth," until he makes her eat off her father's table-cloth, which covered her as she lay on the bier, and which is now thrown up over the top of her bed."

On hearing all this, the Kern rushed home, and without waiting even for the morning, entered the young girl's room, took down the table-cloth, spread it on the table, laid meat and drink thereon, and led her to it. "Drink," he said, "that speech may come to you." And she drank, and ate of the food, and then speech came. And she told the Kern her story--how she was to have been married to a young lord of her own country, and the wedding guests had all assembled, when she felt herself suddenly ill and swooned away, and never knew more of what had happened to her until the Kern had passed his hand over her face, by which she recovered consciousness, but could neither eat nor speak, for a spell was on her, and she was helpless.

Then the Kern prepared a chariot, and carried home the young girl to her father, who was like to die for joy when he beheld her. And the Kern grew mightily in O'Connor's favour, so that at last he gave him his fair young daughter to wife; and the wedded pair lived together happily for many long years after, and no evil befell them, but good followed all the work of their hands.

This story of Kern of Querin still lingers in the faithful, vivid Irish memory, and is often told by the peasants of Clare when they gather round the fire on the awful festival of Samhain, or November Eve, when the dead walk, and the spirits of earth and air have power over mortals, whether for good or evil.
By Lady Francesca Speranza Wilde

[jembo]

November 1 is the Celtic feast of Samhain. Samhain, Gaelic for "summer's end," was the most important of the ancient Celtic feasts.

The Celts honored the opposing balance of intertwining forces of existence: darkness and light, night and day, cold and heat, death and life. The Celtic year was divided into two seasons: the light and the dark, celebrating the light at Beltane on May 1st and the dark at Samhain on November 1st. Therefore, the Feast of Samhain marks one of the two great doorways of the Celtic year. Some believe that Samhain was the more important festival, since it marked the beginning of a new dark-light cycle. The Celts observed time as proceeding from darkness to light because they understood that in dark silence comes whisperings of new beginnings, the stirring of the seed below the ground. Therefore, the Celtic year began with the season of An Geamhradh, the dark Celtic winter, and ended with Am Foghar, the Celtic harvest. The Celtic day began at dusk, the beginning of the dark and cold night, and ended the following dusk, the end of a day of light and warmth. Since dusk is the beginning of the Celtic day, Samhain begins at dusk on October 31. Samhain marks the beginning of An Geamhradh as well as the New Year.

Whereas Beltane was welcomed in the summer light with joyous celebrations at dawn, the most magically potent time of Samhain was at night. Oidhche Shamhna, the Eve of Samhain, was the most important part of the celebration. Villagers gathered the best of the autumn harvest and slaughtered cattle for the feast. The focus of each village's festivities was a great bonfire. Villagers cast the bones of the slaughtered cattle upon the flames. (Our word bonfire comes from these "bone fires.") Personal prayers in the form of objects symbolizing the wishes of supplicants or ailments to be healed were cast into the fire. Many sacrifices and gifts were offered up in thanksgiving for the harvest. With the great bonfire roaring, the villagers extinguished all other fires. Each family then solemnly lit their hearth from the one great common flame, bonding all families of the village together. As they received the flame that marked this time of beginnings, people surely felt a sense of the kindling of new dreams, projects and hopes for the year to come.

bonfire

The gods drew near to Earth at Samhain, as at all the turning points of the Celtic year. The Celts believed that Oidhche Shamhna was a very holy time, when the boundaries between our world and the Otherworld were broken and the dead could return to the places where they had lived. Many rituals of Oidhche Shamhna involved providing hospitality for dead ancestors: Celts put out food and drink for the dead with great ceremony, and left their windows, doors, and gates unlocked to give the dead free passage into their homes. Bobbing for apples, another traditional Samhain pastime, was a reference to the Celtic Emhain Abhlach, "Paradise of Apples," where the dead, having eaten of the sacred fruit, enjoyed a blissful immortality. Swarms of spirits poured into our world on November Eve, but not all of these spirits were friendly. Celts carved the images of spirit-guardians onto turnips and set these "jack o'lanterns" before their doors to keep out unwelcome visitors from the Otherworld.

In the agricultural year, Samhain also marked the first day of winter, when the herders led the cattle and sheep down from their summer hillside pastures to the shelter of stable and byre. The hay that would feed them during the winter must be stored in sturdy thatched shelters, tied down securely against storms. Those destined for the table were slaughtered, after being ritually devoted to the gods in pagan times. All the harvest must be gathered in -- barley, oats, wheat, turnips, and apples. Peat and wood for winter fires were stacked high by the hearth. It was a joyous time of family reunion, when all members of the household worked together baking, salting meat, and making preserves for the winter feasts to come. The endless horizons of summer gave way to a warm, dim and often smoky room; the symphony of summer sounds was replaced by a counterpoint of voices, young and old, human and animal. Divination of the events of the coming year was another prominent feature of Samhain. Celts used hazelnuts, symbols of wisdom, to foretell the future.

There was also a lighthearted side to the Celtic New Year rituals. Young people would put on strange disguises and roam about the countryside, pretending to be the returning dead or spirits from the Otherworld. Celts thought the break in reality on November Eve not only provided a link between the worlds, but also dissolved the structure of society for the night. Boys and girls would put on each other's clothes, and would generally flout convention by boisterous behavior and by playing tricks on their elders and betters.

celtic cross For centuries Christian people have commemorated the intercommunion of the living and the dead in the Body of Christ by honoring the dead who had professed faith in Christ during their lives, especially those who had crowned their profession with heroic deaths. Historic documents show the observance of a festival of martyrs as early as the year 270, although no month and date are attached to it. In the 4th century, an observance of this type is noted on the date of May 13th. John Chrysostom, who died in 407, says that a festival of All Saints was observed on the First Sunday after Pentecost in Constantinople at the time of his episcopate. It is believed by many scholars that the commemoration of all the saints on November 1 first originated in Ireland, spread from there to England, and then to the continent of Europe. That it had reached Rome and been adopted there early in the ninth century is attested by a letter written by Pope Gregory IV, urging that such a festival be observed throughout the Holy Roman Empire.

With the rise of Christianity, Samhain was changed to Hallowmas, or All Saints' Day, to commemorate the souls of the blessed dead who had been canonized that year. The night before became popularly known as Halloween, or All Hallows Eve. In Scotland and Ireland, Halloween is known as OÃche Shamhna, while in Wales it is Nos Calan Gaeaf, the eve of the winter's calend, or first. November 2nd became All Souls Day, when prayers were to be offered to the souls of all who the departed and those who were waiting in Purgatory for entry into Heaven.

Many ancient Celtic customs proved compatible with the new Christian religion. Christianity embraced the Celtic notions of family, community, the bond among all people, and respect for the dead. Throughout the centuries, pagan and Christian beliefs intertwine in a gallimaufry (hodgepodge) of celebrations from October 31st through November 5th, all of which appear both to challenge the ascendancy of the dark and to revel in its mystery.


Chant for Samhain

A year of beauty. A year of plenty. A year of planting. A year of harvest.
A year of forests. A year of healing. A year of vision. A year of passion.
A year of rebirth. A year of rebirth. This year may we renew the earth.
Let it begin with each step we take. Let it begin with each change we make.
Let it begin with each chain we break. And let it begin every time we awake.

http://allsaintsbrookline.org/celtic/samhain.html

[jembo]

Sacred Texts Sagas and Legends Celtic Index Previous Next

Fairy Music
THE evil influence of the fairy glance does not kill, but it throws the object into a death-like trance, in which the real body is carried off to some fairy mansion, while a log of wood, or some ugly, deformed creature is left in its place, clothed with the shadow of the stolen form. Young women, remarkable for beauty, young men, and handsome children, are the chief victims of the fairy stroke. The girls are wedded to fairy chiefs, and the young men to fairy queens; and if the mortal children do not turn out well, they are sent back, and others carried off in their place. It is sometimes possible, by the spells of a powerful fairy-man, to bring back a living being from Fairy-land. But they are never quite the same after. They have always a spirit-look, especially if they have listened to the fairy music. For the fairy music is soft and low and plaintive, with a fatal charm for mortal ears.

One day a gentleman entered a cabin in the County Clare, and saw a young girl about twenty seated by the fire, chanting a melancholy song, without settled words or music. On inquiry he was told she had once heard the fairy harp, and those who hear it lose all memory of love or hate, and forget all things, and never more have any other sound in their ears save the soft music of the fairy harp, and when the spell is broken, they die.

It is remarkable that the Irish national airs--plaintive, beautiful, and unutterably pathetic--should so perfectly express the spirit of the Céol-Sidhe (the fairy music), as it haunts the fancy of the people and mingles with all their traditions of the spirit world. Wild and capricious as the fairy nature, these delicate harmonies, with their mystic, mournful rhythm, seem to touch the deepest chords of feeling, or to fill the sunshine with laughter, according to the mood of the players; but, above all things, Irish music is the utterance of a Divine sorrow; not stormy or passionate, but like that of an exiled spirit, yearning and wistful, vague and unresting; ever seeking the unattainable, ever shadowed, as it were, with memories of some lost good, or some dim foreboding of a coming fate--emotions that seem to find their truest expression in the sweet, sad, lingering wail of the pathetic minor in a genuine Irish air. There is a beautiful phrase in one of the ancient manuscripts descriptive of the wonderful power of Irish music over the sensitive human organization: "Wounded men were soothed when they heard it, and slept; and women in travail forgot their pains." There are legends concerning the subtle charm of the fairy music and dance, when the mortal under their influence seems to move through the air with "the naked, fleshless feet of the spirit," and is lulled by the ecstasy of the cadence into forgetfulness of all things, and sometimes into the sleep of death.
by Lady Francesca Speranza Wilde

[jembo]

In Irish mythology, Anann (Anu, Ana, Anand) was a goddess. 'Anann' is identified as the personal name of the MorrÃgan in many MSS of Lebor Gabála Érenn. With Badb and Macha, she is sometimes part of a triple goddess or a triad of war goddesses.As such, she may be a Celtic personification of death, and is depicted as predicting death in battle. As a goddess of cattle, she is responsible for culling the weak. She is therefore often referred to as "Gentle Annie", in an effort to avoid offense, a tactic which is similar to referring to the fairies as "The Good People".

She may be identical with Danu or Aine.[citation needed] She was a goddess of fertility, cattle, and prosperity, and was known for comforting and teaching the dying. Fires were lit for her during Midsummer.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anann

mists-of-manannan.blogspot....