Conall Gulban; Or Guilbeinach, or Gulbatrneach

IN translating this I have departed from my first plan, which was to give in all cases exactly what I got from one man, and abstracts of other versions. In this case the longest version was translated; and to its passages and notes were added from three other written versions: and from two of which I took notes myself. Where the same incidents are given by two men in different words, the passage which seemed best has been selected. Where one version has an additional incident which the rest have not, it is inserted in its order. Where versions vary, the variation is given in a note. Thus many passages are substituted and inserted, but I have carefully avoided adding anything of my own invention.

At the earnest request of the publishers, the Gaelic of this long story is omitted, to make room for other matter; but the manuscript is preserved, and some few curious passages are given in foot notes.

The chief “author,” as the scribe calls him, is John MacNair, who lives at Clachaig, near the powder mills at Dunoon. The scribe is John Dewar, a labourer now working in the woods at Roseneath, and their version fills sixty foolscap pages. I find that there is a tendency to change dialogue into narrative in writing a story, as is the case here; but when these men tell stories, dialogue predominates.

MacNair, who is a shoemaker, got the story about thirty-five years ago from an old man named Duncan Livingston, who lived in Glendaruel, and was then about sixty-five. Dewar says that he was a shoemaker, and grandfather to another old shoemaker, James Leitch, who lives at Eas-clachain in Glendaruel, and from whose dictation Dewar has taken down several long and curious stories which I have. Leitch says that his grandfather “had Ossian’s Poems by heart,” and many tales “sgeulachd;” and a list of those who still know the latter is given.

Of Livingston, MacNair says—

“I have an interesting story about that old man. In the time of the American war, the laird was pressing the tenants to go, and this old man seemed not willing; so they pursued him through a deep river, or burn, as we call it; and when he saw

he could not escape, he placed his leg between two stones and snapped it in two, so they had to carry him home.” The second version was written by Hector MacLean, and fills twenty-five pages. The reciter was Alexander MacNeill, who lives in Barra, and who names as his authorities several old men. He also recited No. XXXVI. The third was also written by MacLean, from the telling of John MacGilvray, labourer, Colonsay, in July 1860. It fills fourteen pages, and has this tradition attached to it,—“Two ministers, long ago, desirous of trying the powers of the Gaelic language, composed this story and the Knight of the Red Shield (No. LII). MacLean suggests two Monks of Iona.

The fourth was written by Mr. Fraser of Mauld, near Beauly, Inverness-shire, and fills six pages. It was told by Dugald Martin in Crochal.

I have heard the story told by various reciters, particularly by Donald MacPhie in South Uist, and Charles MacIntyre in Benbecula. The latter spoke for an hour. I did not time the former, but he spoke for a long time, and I though his version the most consistent and the most complete story which I had then heard.

The story then is very widely spread in Scotland— from Beauly on the east, to Barra on the west, and Dunoon and Paisley in the South. No two give it in the same words, or give exactly the same incidents; but MacNair’s version written in Dunoon, and MacNeill’s in Barra, written independently by different scribes, so far as they go together, closely resemble each other.

Dewar who is a very intelligent man, suggests that the story is “purely Irish,” and that “it was composed about the time of the crusade, as it tells about the Turks invading the king of Iubhar’s country.” He thinks the Green Isle is one of the Orkneys.

“Innse torrain, the isles of Noise. Ossian’s poem on Cathul,” so called because covered with fir trees and with large rocks facing the sea, against which the waves make a great noise.” (There are no trees in Orkney.) Dewar does not think this tale so old as many of the others which he has written for me.

My own opinion is that the story is mixed with the adventures of the Norse sea rovers who frequented the Western Isles; and that it is impossible to say whether it was composed in Ireland or in Scotland; but it is clear that it was composed a long time ago, and by some one able to imagine and carry out an elaborate plot. There are many old men in Scotland, widely separated, and who cannot read, who know the story and can remember the plot, in whole or in part; so it must be old. It is also known in Ireland. I have traced the incidents amongst Irish labourers in London. One man, a bricklayer, had “seen Conall Gulban in an Irish manuscript;” and a story so called is mentioned in the transactions of the Ossianic Society of Dublin.

The Story of Conall Gulban

THERE was at some time a young king in Eirinn, and

when he came to man’s estate the high counsellors of the realm were counselling him to marry; but he himself was inclined to go to foreign countries first, so that he might get more knowlege, and that he might be more instructed how the realm should be regulated; and he put each thing in order for matters to be arranged till he should come back. He staid there a while till he had got every learning that he thought he could get in that realm. Then he left Greece and he went “do’n Fheadailte,” to the Italy to get more learning. When he was in that country he made acquaintance with the young king of “an Iubhair,” and they were good comrades together; and when they had got every learning that they had to get in Italy, they thought of going home.

The young king of the Iubhar gave an invitation to the young king of Eirinn that he should go to the realm of the Iubhar, and that he should stay a while there with him. The young king of Eirinn went with him, and they were together in the fortress of Iubhar for a while, at sports and hunting.

The king of Iubhar had a sister who was exceedingly handsome; she was “stuama beusach,” modest and gentle in her ways, and she was right (well) instructed. The young king of Eirinn fell in love with her, and she fell in love with the young king of Eirinn, and he was willing to marry her, and she was willing so marry him, and the king of Iubhar was willing that the wedding should go on; but the young king of Eirinn went home first, and he gathered together the high counsellors of the realm, and he told them what he desired to do; and the high counsellors of the realm of Eirinn counselled their king to marry the sister of the king of Iubhar.*

The king of Eirinn went back and he married the king’s sister; and the king of the Iubhar and the king of Eirinn made “co-cheanghal” a league together. If straits, or hardships, or extremity, or anything counter should come upon either, the other was to go to his aid.

When they had settled each thing as it should be, the two kings gave each other a blessing, and the king of Eirinn and his queen went home to Eirinn.

At the end of a little more than a year; after that they had a young son, and they gave him Eobhan as a name. Good care was taken of him, as should be of a king’s son. At the end of a little more than a year after that they had another son, and they gave him Claidhean as a name, Care was taken of this one as had been taken of his brother; and at more than a year after that they had another son, and they gave him Conall as a name, and care was taken of him as had been taken of the two others.*

A king of Eirinn was fond of the chase, and on a fine spring day he chased the deer till he lost his dogs and his people, In the gray of the evening he sat on the side of a green knoll, behind the wind and before the sun, and he heard a voice beside him say, “Hail to thee, King of Eirinn.” ‘Hail to thyself, thou old gray man,” said the king.

The old man took him into the mountain, and there he saw what he had never seen before: such food and drink, meat and music and dancing; and the old man had a beautiful daughter. He slept that night, and when he arose in the morning he heard the cry of a child; and he had to stay for the christening of his son, and he was named Conal Guilbeanach,

The king sent him venison from time to time, and he grew up to be a stalwart youth, swift and strong.

Then war sprung up between the King of Eirinn and the King of Lochlann; and the king sent Caoilte (one of the Feine), the swiftest man in the realm, for Conall, and he could not keep up with Conall on the way home.

The old gray man gave him a sword, and he said “Here is for thee, Conall, ‘a Gheur Ghlas’ (the keen gray), that I got myself from Oisean MacOscar na Feinne,” etc.

An old man in Benbecula, Donald MacIntyre, told me this story in 1859. It lasted about an hour, and I did not take notes, but his version was the same as Mr. Eraser’s, so far. A king of Eirinn gets lost in a magic mist, is entertained by a gray old

They were coming on well, and at the fitting time a teacher was got for them. When they had got about as much learning as the teacher could give them, they were one day out at play, and the king and the queen were going past them, and they were looking at their children (clann).

Said the queen, “This is well, and well enough, but more than this must be done for the children yet. I think that we ought to send them to Gruagach Bhein Eidinn to learn feats and heroes’ activity (luth ghaisge), and that there is not in the sixteen realms another that is as good as the Gruagach of Beinn Eidinn.* man, stays in his house for a night, sees the man’s daughter, and wheresoever the girl slept, it was there the king rose in the morning.” He had been there a year and a day. Conall was boru, and when the king went home he said nothing about his adventures.

The man who was sent for Conall, when war broke out with the Turks, and the king’s two sons refused to stay, was so swift that he could cover seven ridges at a stride; but Conall beat him at all feats of agility, and when he came home with him he was seven ridges before him; and as he went he kept a golden apple playing aloft with the points of his two spears, etc.

Old Donald MacPhie, in South Uist, also told me the story. Like all versions which I have heard, it was full of metrical prose passages, “runs,” as they are called. His version agreed with MacIntyre’s as to the parentage of Conall.

The correct reading then seems to be, that Conall’s two brothers were the sons of the queen, but that the hero was the son of the daughter of the Gruagach (? the Druid) of Beinn Eudain, an old gray man, who lived in the mountain, and who had been a comrade of Oisean and the Feine.

Conall had the blood of the ancient heroes in his veins, and they helped their descendant.

The king agreed with her, and word was sent for the Gruagach. He came, and Eobhan and Claidhean were sent with him to Bein Eidinn to learn feats and activity, and what thing so ever besides the Gruagach could teach them.

They thought that Conall was too young to send him there at that time. When Eobhan and Claidhean were about a year by the Gruagach, he came with them to their father’s house; they were sent back again, and the Gruagach was giving every learning to the king’s children. He took them with him one day aloft up Beinn Eidinn, and when they were on high about half the mountain, the king’s children saw a round brown stone, and as if it were set aside from other stones. They asked what was the reason of that stone being set aside so, rather than all the other stones on the mountain. The Gruagach said to them that the name of that stone was “Clach nan gaisgeach,” the stone of the heroes. Any one that could lift that stone till he could place the wind between it and earth, that he was a hero.

Eobhan went to try to lift the stone; he put his arms about it, and he lifted it up to his knees; Claidhean seized the stone, and he put the wind between it and earth.

Said the Gruagach to them, “Ye are but young and tender yet, be not spoiling yourselves with things that are too weighty for you. Stop till the end of a year after this and you will be stronger for it than you are now.”

The Gruagach took them home and taught them feats and activity, and at the end of a year he took them

and that this relates to some real school of arms and warlike exercises. What the sixteen realms may mean I don’t know. again up the mountain. Eobhan and Claidhean went to the stone; Eobhan lifted it to his shoulder top, and set it down; Claidhean lifted the stone up to his lap, and the Gruagach said to them, “There is neither want of strength or learning with you; I will give you over to your father.”

At the end of a few days after that, the Gruagach went home to the king’s house, and he gave them to their father; and he said that the king’s sons were the strongest and the best taught that there were in the sixteen realms. The king gave thanks and reward to the Gruagach, and he sent Conall with him.

The Gruagach began to teach Conall to do tricks and feats, and Conall pleased him well; and on a day he took Conall with him up the face of Beinn Eidinn, and they reached the place where the round brown stone was. Conall noticed it, and he asked as his brothers had done; and the Gruagach said as he said before. Conall put his hands about the stone, and he put the wind between it and earth; and they went home, and he was with the Gruagach getting more knowledge.

The next year after that they went up Beinn Eidinn where the round brown stone was. Conall thought that he would try if he was (na bu mhurraiche) stronger to lift the heroes’ stone. He caught the stone, and he raised it on the top of the shoulder, and on the faggot gathering place of his back, and he carried it aloft to the top of Beinn Eidinn, and down to the bottom of Beinn Eidinn, and back again; and he left it where he found it.

And the Gruagach said to him, “Ach! thou hast enough of strength, if thou hast enough of swiftness.”

The Gruagach shewed Conall a black thorn bush that was a short way from them, and he said, “If thou canst give me a blow with that black thorn bush yonder, before I reach the top of the mountain, I may cease giving thee instructions,” and the Gruagach ran up the hill.

Conall sprang to the bush; he thought it would take too much time to cut it with his sword, and he pulled it out of the root, and he ran after the Gruagach with it; and before he was but a short way up the mountain, Conall was at his back striking him about the backs of his knees with the black thorn bush.

The Gruagach said, “I will stop giving thee instructions, and I will go home and I will give thee up to thy father.”

The Gruagach wished to go home with Conall, but Conall was not willing till he should get every knowledge that the Gruagach could give him; and he was with him after that more than a year, and after that they went home.

The king asked the Gruagach how Conall had taken up his learning. ‘It is so,” said the Gruagach, “that Conall is the man that is the strongest and best taught in the sixteen realms, and if he gets days he will increase that heroism yet.”

The king gave full reward and thanks to the Gruagach for the care he had taken of his son, The Gruagach gave thanks to the king for the reward he had given him. They gave each other a blessing, and the Gruagach and the king’s sons gave each other a blessing, and the Gruagach went home, and he was Mae-Nair. fully pleased.*]

The young King of Eirinn and the king of Laidheann were comrades, and fond of each other; and they used to go to the green mound to the side of Beinn Euadain to seek pastime and pleasure of mind.

The King of Eirinn had three sons, and the King of Laidheann one daughter; and the youngest son that the King of Eirinn had was Conall. On a day, as they were on the green mound at the side of Beinn Eudain, they saw the seeming of a shower gathering in the heart of the north-western airt, and a rider of a black filly coming from about the shower; and he took (his way) to the green mound where were the King of Eirinn and the King of Laidheann, and he blessed the men, and he inquired of them. The King of Eirinn asked what he came about; and he said that he was going to make a request to the King of Eirinn, if it were so that he might get it. The King of Eirinn said that he should get it if it should be in his power to give it to him.

“Give me a loan of a day and a year of Conall thy son.”.

“I myself promised that to thee,” said the King of Eirinn; “and unless I had promised thou shouldst not get him.”

He took Conall with him. Now the King of Eirinn went home; he laid down music, and raised up woe, lamenting his son; he laid vows on himself that he would not stand on the green mound till a day and a

next bit may be but another version of the education of the warrior, but it seems as if something were wanted to complete it. It is the beginning of the story as told in Barra, and I give it as part of the same thing. It agrees with the mysterious origin of Conall. year should run out. There then he was at home, heavy and sad, till a day and a year had run.

At the end of a day and year he went to the green mound at the side of Beinn Eudain. There he was a while at the green mound, and he was not seeing a man coming, and he was not seeing a horseman coming, and he was under sorrow and under grief. In the same airt of the heaven, in the mouth of the evening, he saw the same shower coming, and a man upon a black filly in it, and a man behind him. He went to the green mound where the man was coming, and he saw the King of Laidheann.

“How dost thou find thyself, King of Eirinn?”

I myself am but middling.”

“What is it that lays trouble on thee, King of Eirinn?”

“There is enough that puts trouble upon me. There came a man a year from yesterday that took from me my son; he promised to be with me this day, and I cannot see his likeness coming, himself or my son.”

“Wouldst thou know thy son if thou shouldst see him?”

“I think I should know him for all the time he has been away.”

“There is thy son for thee then,” said the lad who came.”

“Oh, it is not; he is unlike my son; so great a change as might come over my son, such a change as that could not come over him since he went away.”

“He is all thou hast for thy son.”

“Oh, you are my father, surely,” said Conall.

“Thanks be to thee, king of the chiefs and the mighty! that Conall has come,” said the King of Eirinn; “I am pleased that my son has come. Any one thing that thou settest before me for bringing my son home, thou shalt get it, and my blessing.”

“] “I will not take anything but thy blessing; and if I get thy blessing I am paid enough.”

He got the blessing of the King of Eirinn, and they parted; and the King of Eirinn and his children went home.] (MacNeill)

After the sons of the King of Eirinn had gotten their learning, they themselves, and the king and the queen, were in the fortress; and they were full of rejoicing with music and joy, when there came a messenger to them from the King of Iubhar, telling that the Turcaich were at war with him to take the land from him; and that the realm of Iubhar was sore beset by the Turks; that they were (lionmhor nearthmhor ’s borb) numerous, powerful, and proud (ra gharg), right fierce, merciless without kindliness, and that there were things incomprehensible about them; though they were slain to-day they would be alive to-morrow, and they would come forward to hold battle on the next day, as fierce and furious as they ever were; and the messenger was entreating the King of Eirinn to go to help the King of Iubhar, according to his words and his covenants.* The King of Eirinn must go to help the King of the Iubhar, because of the heavy vows: if strife, danger, straits, or any hardship should come against the one king, that the other king was to go to help him. 7] MaeNair,

They put on them for going; and when they had put on them for going away, they sent away a ship with provisions * and with arms. There went away right good ships loaded with each thing they might require; noble ships indeed. The King of Eirinn and the King of Laidheann gave out an order that every man in the kingdom should gather to go.

The King of Eirinn asked, “Is there any man about to stay to keep the wives and sons of Eirinn, till the King of Eirinn come back? Oh, thou, my eldest son, stay thou to keep the kingdom of Eirinn for thy father, and thine is the third part of it for his life, and at his death.”

“Thou seemest light minded to me, my father,” said the eldest son, “when thou speakest such idle talk; I would rather hold one day of battle and combat against the great Turk, than that I should have the kingdom of Kirin altogether.”

“There is no help for it,” said the king. “But thou, middlemost son, stay thou to keep the kingdom of Eirinn for thy father, and thine is the half for his life, and at his death.”

“Do not speak, my father, of such a silly thing! What strong love should you have yourself for going, that I might not have?”

“There is no help for it,” said the King of Eirinn. “Oh, Conall,” said the king, “thou that hast ever earned my blessing, and that never deserved my curse, stay thou to keep the wives and sons of Eirinn for thy father until he himself returns home again, and thou Another version also says that the king had gone to put the ‘Turks out of the realm of the Emperor. shalt have the realm of Eirinn altogether for thyself, for my life, and at my death.”

“Well then, father, I will stay for thy blessing, and not for the realm of Eirinn, though the like of that might be.” “yl MicNeill

The king thought that Conall was too young for the realm to be trusted to him; he gathered his high counsellors and he took their counsel about it. The counsellors said that Conall was surely too young, but that was (faillinn a bha daonan a dol am feobhas) a failing that was always bettering; though he was young, that he would always be growing older; and that as Eobhan and Claidhean would not stay, that it was best to trust the realm to Conall]. MacNair,

Then here went the great nobles of Eirinn, and they put on them for going to sail to the realm of the Tuirc, themselves and the company of the King of Laidhean altogether.f] (MacNeill)

They went away, and Conall went along with them to the shore; he and his father and his brothers gave a blessing to each other; and the King of Eirinn and his two sons, Eobhan and Claidhean, went on board of a ship, and they hoisted the speckled flapping sails up against the tall tough masts; and they sailed the ship fiulpande‡ fiullande.§ Sailing about the sandy ocean, where the biggest beast eats the beast that is least, and the beast that is least is fleeing and hiding as best he may; and the ship would split a hard oat seed in the midst of the sea, so well would she steer; and so she was as long as she was in the sight of Conall.

And Conall was heavy and dull when his father and brothers left him, and he sat down on the shore and he slept; and the wakening he got was the one wave sweeping him out, and the other wave washing him in against the shore.

Conall got up swiftly, and he said to himself, “Is this the first exploit I have done! It is no wonder my father should say I was too young to take care of the realm, since I cannot take care of myself.”

He went home and he took better care of himself after that]. (MacNair)

There was not a man left in the realm of Eirinn but Conall; and there was not left a man* in the realm of Laidheann, but the daughter of the King of Laidheann, and five hundred soldiers to guard t her.

Anna Diucalas, daughter of the King of Laidheann, was the name of that woman, the very drop of woman’s blood that was the most beautiful of all that ever stood on leather of cow or horse. Her father left her in his castle, with five hundred soldiers to keep her; and she had no man with her in Laidheann but the soldiers, and Conall was by himself in the realm of Eirinn.

Then sorrow struck Conall, and melancholy that he should stay in the realm of Eirinn by himself; that he himself was better than the people altogether, though they had gone away. Ho thought that there was nothing that would take his care and his sorrow from off him better, than to go to the side of Beinn Eudainn to the green mound. He went, and he reached the green mound; he laid his face downwards on the hillock, and he thought that there was no one thing that would suit himself better, than that he should find his match of a woman. Then he gave a glance from him, and what should he see but a raven sitting on a heap of snow;* and he set it before him that he would not take a wife forever, but one whose head should be as black as the raven, and her face as fair as the snow, and her cheeks as red as blood. Such a woman was not to be found, but the one that the King of Laidheann left within in his castle, and it would not be easy to get to her, for all the soldiers that her father left to keep her; but he thought that he could reach her.

He had gone to see his grandfather, the mysterious old gray man.

“When he got up in the morning there was a young snow, and the raven was upon a spray near him, and a bit of flesh in his beak. The piece of flesh fell, and Conall went to lift it; and the raven said to him, that Fair Beauteous Smooth was as white as the snow upon the spray, her cheek as red as the flesh that was in his hand, and her hair as black as the feather that was in his wing.”

On a snowy day Conall saw a goat slaughtered, and a black raven came to drink the blood. “Oh,” says he, “that I could marry the girl whose breast is as white as the snow, whose cheeks are red as the blood, and whose hair is as black as the raven; and Conall fell sick for love.

(Benbecula) Macintyre gave the same incident.

The Colonsay version introduces an old nurse instead.

MacNair simply says that Conall heard of the lady. He went away, and there went no stop on his foot nor rest on his head, till he reached the castle in which was the daughter of the King of Laidheann.] (MacNeill) He took (his burden) upon him, and he went on board of a skiff, and he rowed till he came on shore on the land of the King of Laidheann.* He did not know the road, but he took a tale from every traveller and walker that he fell in with, and when he came near to the dun of the king of Laidheann, he came to a small strait. There was a ferry boat on the strait, but the boat was on the further side of the narrows. He stood a little while looking at its breadth; at last he put his palm on the point of the spear, and the shaft in the sea, he gave his rounded spring, and he was over.] (MacNair) Then here he was on a great top that was there, and he was looking below beneath him, and he saw the very finest castle (luchairt) that ever was seen from the beginning of the universe to the end of eternity, and a great wall at the back of the fortress, and iron spikes within a foot of each other, about and around it; and a man’s head upon every spike but the one spike. Fear struck him, and he fell a shaking. He thought that it was his own head that would go on the headless spike.] The dun was guarded by nine ranks of (MacGilvray) soldiers. There were nine warriors (curaidhnean) at the back of the soldiers that were as mighty as the nine

Beinn Endainn or Eideinn is like the Gaelic for Edinburgh, though the stories place the hill in Ireland; and here are the king of Eirinn and his son rowing and sailing about from realm to realm in Ireland, and the Turks at Newry a foreign land. If Iubhar mean Jewry, and this is a romance of the crusades, it is more reasonable, ranks of soldiers. There were behind the warriors six heroes (gasgaich) that were as mighty as the nine warriors and the nine ranks of soldiers. ‘There were behind these six heroes three full heroes (lan gasgaich) that were as mighty as all that were outside of them; and there was one great man behind these three, that was as mighty as the whole of the people that there were altogether, and many a man tried to take out Ann Iuchdaris,* but no man of them went away alive.

He came to near about the soldiers, and he asked leave to go in, and that he would leave the woman as she was before.

“I perceive,” said one of them, “that thou art a beggar that was in the land of Eirinn; what worth would the king of Laidheann have if he should come and find his daughter shamed by any one coward of Eirinn.”

“I will not be long asking a way from you,” said Conall.] (MacNeill)

Conall looked at the men who were guarding the dun; he went a sweep round about with ears that were sharp to hear, and eyes rolling to see. A glance that he gave aloft to the dun he saw an open window, and Breast of Light on the inner side of the window combing her hair. Conall stood a little while gazing at her, but at last he put his palm on the point of his spear, he gave his rounded spring, and he was in at the window beside Breast of Light. “Who is he this youth that sprang so roundly in at

“There is one that has come to take thee away,”

Breast of Light gave a laugh, and she said—‘Sawest

“I saw them,” said he; “they let me in, and they

She gave another laugh, and she said—“Many a one has tried to take me out from this, but none has done it yet, and they lost their luck at the end; my counsel to

Conall put his hand about her very waist; he raised her in his oxter; he took her out to the rank of soldiers; he put his palm on the point of his spear, and he leaped over their heads; he ran so swiftly that they could not see that it was Breast of Light that he had, and when he was out of sight of the dun he set her on the ground.] (Vas not that the hero and the worthy wooer! (MacNair) that his like is not to be found to day!)] (MacNeill) I)] Breast of Light heaved a heavy sigh from her breast.

“It is,’ said she, “that there came many a one to seek me, and that suffered death for my sake, and that it is gaily) the coward of the great world that took

“I little thought that the very coward of Eirinn that should take me out, who staid at home from cowardice in the realm of Eirinn, and that my own father should leave five hundred warriors to watch me, without one Grop of blood taken from one of them.”] (MacNeill)

“It is,” said she, “that though there were many men about the dun, fear would not let thee tell the sorriest of them who took away Breast of Light, nor to what side she was taken.” *

(That’s it—the women ever had a torturing tongue, teanga ghointe.)] (MacNeill)

Said Conall—“Give me thy three royal words, and thy three baptismal vows, that thou wilt not move from that, and I will still go and tell it to them.”

“I will do that,” said she.] (MacNair)

Conall turned back to the dun, and nothing in the world, in the way of arms, did he fall in with but one horse’s jaw which he found in the road;] and when he arrived he asked them what they would do to a man that should take away Breast of Light.

“It is this,” said they, “to drive off his head and set it on a spike.”

Conall looked under them, over them, through, and before them, for the one of the biggest knob and slenderest shanks, and he caught hold of the slenderest shanked and biggest knobbed man, and with the head of that one he drove the brains out of the rest, and the brains of that one with the other’s heads. Then he drew his sword, and he began on the nine warriors, and he slew them, and he killed the six heroes that were at their back, and the three full heroes that were behind these, and then he had but the big man. Conall struck him a slap, and drove his eye out on his cheek, he levelled him and stripped his clothes off.] and he left no Ma-Nair. one to tell a tale or wear out bad news, but the one to whom he played the clipping of a bird and a fool, and though there should be ten tongues of a true wise bard in that man’s head, it is telling his own exploits, and

Fiom a Stone in the Cemetery of Inch Brayoe, in the South Esk.

What the artist meant who sculptured the stone from which this woodcut is taken is not clear, but the three lower figures those of his men that he would be; the plight that the youth who had come to the town had made of them.*) (MacNeill) He asked him where was the king of Laidheann, and the big man said that he was in the hunting hill with his court and his following (dheadhachail) of men and beasts.

Said Conall to him—I lay it on thee as disgrace and contempt (tair agus tailceas) that thou must go stripped as thou art to tell to the king of Laidheann that Conall Guilbeanach came, the son of the king of Eirinn, and that he has taken away his daughter Breast of Light.;

When the big man understood that he was to have his life along with him, he ran in great leaps, and in a rough trot, like a venomous snake, or a deadly dragon;† he would catch the swift March wind that was before him, but the swift March wind that was after him could not catch him. The King of Laidheann saw him coming, and he said, “What evil has befallen the dun

might mean Conall knocking out the big man’s eye with a jaw bone, and the lady looking on. It might mean Samson slaying a Philistine. The upper part might represent the king hunting, but there is a nondescript figure which will not fit, unless it be the monster which was slain at the palace of the King of Light. The date and origin of stone and story are alike unknown, but they are both old and curious, and may serve as rude illustrations of past customs and dresses and of each other. this day, when the big man is coming thus stark naked

“That which I have is the tale of hate, that there came Conall Guilbeanach, son of the King of Eirinn, and slew all that there were of men to guard the dun, and it was not my own might or my own valour that rescued me rather than the sorriest that was there, but that he laid it on me as disgrace and reproach that I should go thus naked to tell it to my king, to tell him that there came Conall Guilbeanach, son of the King of Eirinn, and he has taken away Breast of Light, thy

“Much good may it do him then,” said the King of Laidheann. “If it is a hero like that who has taken her away he will keep her better than I could keep her, MieNair, and my anger will not go after her.” *] Conall returned, and he reached the woman after he

“Come now,” said he to Breast of Light, daughter of the King of Laidheann, “and walk with me; and unless thou hadst given me the spiteful talk that thou gavest, the company would be alive before thy father, and since thou gavest it thou shalt walk thyself. Let thy foot be

(My fine fellow Conall, that’s the way with her.) (MacNeill) She rose well-pleased, and she went away with him; they reached the narrows, they put out the ferry boat, and they crossed the strait. Conall had neither steed, horse, nor harness to take Breast of Light on, and she

When they reached where Conall had left the currach they put the boat on the brine, and they rowed over the ocean. They came to land at the lower side of Bein Eidin, in Eirinn. They came out of the boat, and they went on forward. ] (MacNair)

They reached the green mound at the foot of Bein Eidin.] (MacNeill)

Conall told Breast of Light that he had a failing, every time that he did any deed of valour he must sleep before he could do brave deeds again.*] (MacNair)

“There now, I will lay my head in thy lap.”

“Thou shalt not, for fear thou should’st fall asleep.”

“And if I do, wilt thou not waken me?”

“What manner of waking is thine?”

“Thou shalt cast me greatly hither and thither, and if that will not rouse me, thou shalt take the breadth of a penny piece of flesh and hide from the top of my head. If that will not wake me, thou shalt seize on yonder great slab of a stone, and thou shalt strike me

cut off, Macgilvray, the same in different words. According to the introduction to Njal Saga, there were in Iceland long ago gifted men of prodigious strength, who, after performing feats of superhuman, force, were weak and powerless for a time. While engaged in London about this story, an Irish bricklayer came to mend a fire-place, and I asked him if he had ever heard of Conall Gulban, ‘ Yes sure,” said the man with a grin, “he was one of the Finevanians, and when he slept they had to cut bits off him, before he could be wakened. They were cutting his fingers off.” And then he went away with his hod. The incident is common in Gaelic stories, and Conall is mentioned in a list of Irish stories in the transactions of the Ossianic society. between the mouth and nose, and if that will not rouse

He laid his head in her lap,* and in a little instant he

He was not long asleep when she saw a great vessel sailing in the ocean. Each path was crooked, and each road was level for her, till she came to the green mound

There was in the ship but one great man, and he would make rudder in her stern, cable in her prow, tackle in her middle, each rope that was loose he would tie, and each rope that was fast he would loose], and (MacNeill) the front of each rope that was on board was towards him,] ? till he came on shore at the shoulder of Bein Eidin.] He came in with the ship at the foot of Bein Eidin, and the big man leapt on shore; he caught hold of the prow of the ship,‡ and he hauled her her own nine lengths and nine breadths up upon green grass, where the force of foes could not move her out without

He came where Breast of Light was, and Conall asleep, with his head on her knee. He gazed at Breast of Light, and she said,—] (MacNair) “What side is before thee for choice? Or where art

“Well, they were telling me that Breast of Light, daughter of the King of Laidheann, was the finest woman in the world, and I was going to seek her for myself.”

“That is hard enough to get,” said she. “She is in yonder castle, with five hundred soldiers for her guard, that her father left there.”

“Well,” said he, though she were brighter than the sun, and more lovely than the moon, past thee I will not go.”

“Well, thou seemest silly to me to think of taking me with thee instead of that woman, and that I am not worthy to go and untie her shoe.”

“Be that as it will, thou shalt go with me.] I know (MacNeill) that it is thou by thy beauty, Breast of Light, daughter of the king of Laidheann.”

“Thou hast the wishing knowledge of me,” said she; “I am not she, but a farmer’s daughter, and this is my brother; he lost the flock this day, and he was running after them backwards and forwards throughout Bein Eudain, and now he is tired and taking a while of sleep.” MacNaix,

“Be that as it will,” said he, “there is a mirror in my ship, and the mirror will not rise up for any woman in the world, but for “Uchd Soluisd,” daughter of the King of Laidheann. If the mirror rises for thee, I will take thee with me, and if it does not I will leave thee there.”

He went to the mirror, and fear would not let her cut off the little finger, and she could not awaken Conall. The man looked in the mirror, and the mirror rose up for her, and he went back where she was. ] (MacGilvray)

Said the big one, “I will be surer than that of my matter before I go further.” He plucked the blade of Conall from the sheath, and it was full of blood. “Ha!” said he, “I am right enough in my guess. Waken thy champion, and we will try with swift wrestling, might of hands, and hardness of blades, which of

“I,” said the big man, “am Mac-a-Moir MacRigh Sorcha (son of the mighty, son of the King of Light). “MacNair. It is in pursuit of thee I came.” +]

He went, and he felt him from the points of the thumbs of his feet till he went out at the top of his head. I cannot rouse the man myself; I like him as well asleep as awake.” (MacNeill) Breast of Light got up, and she began to rock (a chriothnachadh) Conall hither and thither, but he would

Said Mac-a-Moir—* Unless thou wakest him thou

Said she—“Give thou to me before I go with thee thy three royal words and thy three baptismal vows that thou wilt not seek me as wife or as sweetheart till the end of a day and a year after this, to give Conall

Mace-a-Moir gave his three royal words and his three baptismal vows to Breast of Light, that she should be a maiden till the end of a day and a year, to give time to Conall to come in pursuit of her, if he had so much courage. Breast of Light took the sword of Conall from the sheath, and she wrote on the sword how it had fallen out. She took the ring from off the finger of Conall, and she put her own ring on his finger in its stead, and put Conall’s ring on her own finger, and she went away with Mac-a Moir, and they left Conall in his sleep.] He took the woman with him on his shoulder (MacNair) and he went to the ship. He shoved out the ship and he gave her prow to sea, and her stern to shore; he hoisted the flapping white sails against the mast, tall and enduring, that would not leave yard unbent, sail untorn, running the seas, ploochkanaiche plachkanaiche, blue clouds of Lochlanach, the little buckie that was seven years on the sea, clattering on her floor with the excellence of the lad’s steering.

When Conall awoke on the green mound he had but himself, a shorn one and bare alone. Glance that he gave from him, what should he see but herds that the king of Eirinn and Laidheann had left, dancing for joy on the point of their spears. He thought that they were mocking him for what had befallen him. He went to kill the one with the other’s head,] and there was McNeill, such a (sgrann) grim look upon him that the little herds were fleeing out of his way.

He said to one of them—“What fleeing is on the little herds of Bein Eidin before me this day, as if they were mad; are ye mocking me for what has befallen me 2” ial MacNair, “We are not,” said they; “it was grievous to us (to

“What, my fine fellow, did you see happening to Mme Y] (MacNeill) Said the little herd—“Thou art more like one who is mad than any one of us. If thou hadst seen the rinsing, and the sifting, and the riddling (an luasgadh, an cathadh, ’as an creanachadh) that they had at thee down at the foot of the hill, thou wouldst not have much esteem for thyself. I saw,” said the little herd, “the one who was with thee putting a ring on thy

Conall looked, and it was the ring of Breast of Light

Said the little herd—“I saw her writing something

Conall drew his sword, and he read—“There came Mac-a-Moir, the king of Sorcha, and took me away, Breast of Light; I am to be free for a year and a day in his house waiting for thee, if thou hast so much

Conall put his sword into its sheath, and he gave three royal words.*] I lay it on myself as spells and (MacNair) as crosses, that stopping by night, and staying by day, is not for me, till I find the woman. Where I take my supper, that I will not take my dinner, and that there is no place into which I go that I will not leave the fruit of my hand there to boot, and the son that is unborn he shall hear of it, and the son that is unbegotten he shall hear tell of it.”+] (MacNeill)

Said the little herd to him—‘ There came a ship to shore at the port down there. The shipmen (sgiobe) went to the hostelry, and if thou be able enough thou mayest be away with the ship before they come back.”*

Conall went away, and he went on board of the ship, and he was out of sight with her before the mariners missed him.] He gave her prow to sea, and her stern (MacNair) to shore, helm in her stern, rope in her prow, that each road was smooth, and crooked each path, till he went into the realm of Lochlannf] at a place which was called (MacNeill) Cath nam peileirn (Battle of bullets), but he did not know himself where he was.

He leaped on shore, and he seized the prow of the ship, and he pulled her up on dry land, her own nine lengths and nine breadths, where the foeman’s might could not take her out without feet following behind.

The lads of the realm of Lochlann, were playing shinny on a plain, and Gealbhan Greadhna, the son of the King of Lochlann, working amongst them.‡] He (MacNeill) deeds, and, according to Irish writers, a like practice prevailed in Ireland. It seems that the custom is remembered and pre-

served in these stories. The fruit, toradh, rather means a harvest; he will leave a harvest of dead reaped by his hand. did not know who they were, but he went to where they were, and it was the Prince of Lochlann and his two scholars, and ten over a score; and the Prince of Lochlann was alone, driving the goals against the whole

Conall stood singing “iolla” to them, and the ball came to the side where he was; Conall struck a kick on the ball, and he drove it out on the goal boundary against the Prince of Lochlann. The Prince came where he was, and he said, “Thou, man, that came upon us from off the ocean, it were little enough that would make me take the head off thee, that we might have it as a ball to kick about the field, since thou wert so impudent as to kick the ball. Thou must hold a goal of shinny against me and against the two-and.thirty scholars. If thou get the victory thou shalt be free; if we conquer thee, every one of us will hit thee a blow on the head with his shinny.”*] (MacNair) “Well,” said Conall, “I don’t know who thou art, great man, but it seems to me that thy judgment is evil. If every one of you were to give me a knock on the head, you would leave my head a soft mass. I have

“Thou shalt have a shinny,” said Gealbhan Greadhna. Conall gave a look round about, and he saw a crooked stick of elder growing in the face of a bank. He gave a leap thither and plucked it out by the root, and he sliced it with his sword and made a shinny of it.*] MacNair,

Then Conall had got a shinny, and he himself and Gealbhan Greadhna (cheery fire) went to play.

Two halves were made of the company, and the ball was let out in the midst. On a time of the times Conall got a chance at the ball; he struck it a stroke of his foot, and a blow of his palm and a blow of his shinny, and he drove it home.

“Thou wert impudent,” said Gealbhan Greadhna, “to drive the game against me or against my share of the people.”

“That is well said by thee, good lad! Thou shalt get two shares (earrann) of the band with thee, and I will take one share.”

“And what wilt thou say if it goes against thee?”

“If it goes against me with fair play there is no help for it, but if it goes against me otherwise I may say what I choose.”

Then divisions were made of the company, and Gealbhan Greadhna had two divisions and Conall one. The ball was let out in the midst, and if it was let out Conall got a chance at it, and he struck it a stroke of his foot, and a blow of his palm, and a blow of his shinny, and he drove it in.

“Thou wert impudent,” said Gealbhan Greadhna a second time, “to go to drive the game against me.”

“Good lad, that is well from thee! but thou shalt get the whole company the third time, and what wilt thou say if it goes against thee.”

If it goes by fair play I cannot say a jot; if not, I may say my pleasure.”

The ball was let go, and if so, Conall got a chance at it, and he all alone; and he struck it a stroke of his foot, and a blow of his palm, and a blow of his shinny, and he drove it in.

“Thou wert impudent,” said Gealbhan Greadhna, “to go and drive it against me the third time.”

“That is well from thee, good lad, but thou shalt not say that to me, nor to another man after me,” and he struck him a blow of his shinny and knocked his brains out.*] (MacNeill)

He looked (taireal) contemptuously at them; he threw his shinny from him, and he went from them.

He was going on, and he saw a little man coming laughing towards him.

“What is the meaning of thy laughing at me?” said Conall.

Said the little man, “It is that I am in a cheery mood at seeing a man of my country.”

“Who art thou,” said Conall, “that art a countryman of mine?”

I,” said the little man, “am Duanach MacDraodh (songster, son of magic), the son of a prophet from Eirinn. “Wilt thou then take me as a servant, lad?” +

toadies, and the independence of the warrior who came over the sea, and who would stand no nonsense, are well described, MacNair’s version is not so full, nor is the catastrophe so tragic, but otherwise the incidents are the same.

“I will not take thee,” said Conall. “I have no way (of keeping) myself here without word of a gillie. What realm is this in which I am here?”

“Thou art,” said Duanach, “in the realm of Lochlann.”

Conall went on, and Duanach with him, and he saw a great town before him.

“What town is there, Duanach?” said Conall.

“That,” said Duanach, “is the great town of the realm of Lochlann.”

They went on and they saw a big house on a high place.

“What big house is yonder, Duanach?”

“That,” said Duanach, “is the big house of the King of Lochlann;” and they went on.

They saw another house on a high place.

“What pointed house (biorach with points? pallisades or what) is there, Duanach?” said Conall.

“That is the house of the Tamhasg, the best warriors that are in the realm of Lochlann,” said Duanach.

“I heard my grandfather speaking about the Tamhaisg, but I have never seen them; I will go to see them,” said Conall.

“It were not my counsel to thee,” said Duanach.*]—(MacNair)

On he went to the palace of the King of Lochlann (bhuail e beum sgeithe) and he clashed his shield, battle perhaps crook, the son of magic, and he explained, that draoth was one who brought messages from one enemy to another, and

whose person was sacred. or else combat to be sent to him, or else Breast of Light,

That was the thing he should get, battle and combat, and not Breast of Light, daughter of the King of Laidheann, for she was not there to give him; but he should get no fighting at that time of night, but he should get (fardoch) lodging in the house of the amhusg, where there were eighteen hundred amhusg and eighteen score; but he would get battle in the morrow’s morning:

Twas no run for the lad, but a spring, and he would take no better than the place he was to get. He went, and he went in, and there was none of the amhuish within that did not grin. When he saw that they had made a grin, he himself made two. (MacNeill) “What was the meaning of your grinning at us?”

“What was the meaning of your grinning at me?”

Said they, “Our grinning at thee meant that thy fresh royal blood will be ours to quench our thirst, and

And said Conall, “The meaning of my grinning is, that I will look out for the one with the biggest knob and slenderest shanks, and knock out the brains of the rest with that one, and his brains with the knobs of the rest.] (MacNair) Every one of them arose, and he went to the door, and he put a stake of wood against the door. He rose up himself, and he put two against it so tightly that

“What reason had you to go and do it?” said he. “It were a sorry matter for me though I should put two there, when you yourselves put one there each, every one that is within.”

“Well, we will tell thee,” said they, “what reason we had for that: we have never seen coming here (one), a gulp of whose blood, or a morsel of whose flesh could reach us, but thou thyself, except one other man, and he fled from us; and now every one is doubting the other, in case thou shouldst flee.”

“That was the thing that made me do it myself likewise, since [ I have got yourselves so close as you are.” Then he went and he began upon them. “I feared to be chasing you from hole to hole, and from hill to hill, and I did that.” Then he gazed at them, from one to two, and he seized on the one of the slenderest shanks and the fattest head; he drove upon the rest, sliochd! slachd! till he had killed every one of them; and he had not a jot of the one with whom he was working at them, but what was in his hands of the shanks.*

He killed every man of them, and though he was such a youth as he was, he was exhausted (enough-ified, if I might coin a word.) Then he began redding up the dwelling (reitach na h-araich) that was there, to elean it for himself that night. Then he put them out in a heap altogether, and he let himself (drop) stretched out on one of the beds that was within.*

There came a dream (Bruaduil) + to him then, and he said to him, “Rise, oh Conall, and the chase about to be upon thee.”

He let that pass, and he gave it no heed, for he was exhausted.

He came the second journey, and he said to him, “Conall, wilt thou not arise, and that the chase is about to be upon thee.”

He let that pass, and he gave it no heed; but the third time he came to him, he said, “Conall art thou about to give heed to me at all! and that thy life is about to be awanting to thee.”

He arose and he looked out at the door, and he saw a hundred carts, and a hundred horses, and a hundred carters, coming with food to the amhusg; supposing that they had done for the youth that went amongst them the night before; and a piper playing music behind them, with joy and pleasure of mind.

They were coming past a single bridge, and the bridge was pretty large; and when Conall saw that they were together (cruin round) on the bridge, he reached the bridge, and he put each cart, and each horse, and each carter, over the bridge into the river; and he drowned the men.

There was one little bent crooked man here with them behind the rest.

+ This word, thus written, is in no dictionary that I have, but it is the same as brudair; and, the other version proves that a dream is meant. It is singular to find a dream thus personified in the mouth of a Barra peasant.

“My heart is warming to thee with the thought that it is thou, Conall Gulban MacNiall Naonallaich; the name of a hero was on his hand a hundred years ere he was born.”

“Thou hast but what thou hast of knowledge, and the share that thou hast not, thou wilt not have this day,” said Conall Gulban.

He went away, and he reached the palace of the King of Lochlann; and he clashed his shield, battle or else combat to be given to him, or else Breast of Light, daughter of the King of Laidheann.

That was the thing which he should have, battle and combat; and not Breast of Light, for she was not there to give him.*] (MacNeill)

(So he went back and he slept again.)

Word reached the young king of Lochlann, that the big man who came off the ocean had gone to the house of the “Tamhasg;” that they had set a combat, and that the “Tamhasgan” had been slain. The young king of Lochlann ordered four of the best warriors that were in his realm, that they should up to the house of the Tamhasg, and take off the head of the big man that that had come off the ocean, and to bring it up to him before he should sit down to his dinner.

The warriors went, and they found Duanach there, and they railed at him for going with the big man that came out of the outer land,} for they did not know who he was.

“And why,” said Duanach, “should I not go with the man of my own country? but it you knew it, I am as tired of him as you are yourselves. He has given me much to do; see you I have just made a heap of corpses, a heap of clothes, and a heap of the arms of the “Tamhaisg;” and you have for it but to lift them along with you.”

“It is not for that we came,” said they, ‘but to slay him, and to take his head to the young king of Lochlann before he sits to dine. Who is he?” said they.

“He is,” said Duanach, “one of the sons of the king of Eirinn.”

“The young King of Lochlann has sent us to take his head off,” said they.

“If you kill one of the children of the King of Eirinn in his sleep you will regret it enough afterwards,” said Duanach.

“What regret will there be?” said they.

“There is this,” said Duanach. “There will be no son to woman, there will be no calf to cow, no grass nor braird shall grow in the realm of Lochlann, till the end of seven years,* if ye kill one of the clan of the King of Eirinn in his sleep, and go and tell that to the young King of Lochlann.”

They went back, and they told what Duanach had said,

The young King of Lochlann said that they should go back, and do as he had bidden them, and that they should not heed the lies of Duanach.

The four warriors went again to the house of the “Tamhasg,” and they said to Duanach,—

“We have come again to take the head off the son of of the King of Eirinn.”

And Duanach said, “He is yonder then, over there, for you, in his sleep; but take good heed to yourselves, unless your swords are sharp enough to take off his head at the first blow, all that is in your bodies is to be pitied after that; he will not leave one of you alive, and he will bring (sgrios) ruin on the realm.”

Each of them stretched his sword to Duanach, and Duanach said that their swords were not sharp enough, that they should go out to the Tamhasg stone to sharpen them. They went out, and they were sharpening their swords on the smooth grinding-stone of the Tamhasg, and Conall began to dream (again).

It seemed to him that he was going on a road that went through the midst of a gloomy wood,* and it seemed to him that he saw four lions before him, two on the upper side of the rood, and two on the lower side, and they were gnashing their teeth, and switching their tails,; making ready to spring upon him, and it seemed to him that it was easier for the lions that were on the upper side of the road to leap down, than it was for the lions that were on the lower side to leap up; and it was better for him to slay those that were on the upper side first, and he gave a cheery spring to be at them; and he sprang aloft through his sleep, and he struck his head against a tie beam (sail shuimear) that was across above him in the house of the “Tamhasgan,” and he drove as much as the breadth of a half-crown piece of the skin off the top of his head, and then he was aroused, and he said to Duanach,“I myself was dreaming, Duanach,” and he told him

And Duanach said, “Thy dream is a dainty to read. Go thou out to the stone of the Tamhasg, and thou wilt see the four best warriors that the King of Lochlann has, two on each side of the stone round about it,

Conall went out with his blade in his hand, and he took off their heads, and he left two heads on each side of the stone of the Tamhasg; and he came in where Duanach was, and he said, “I am yet without food since I came to the realm of Lochlann, and I feel in

And Duanach said, “I wilt get thee food if thou wilt take my counsel, and that is, that thou shouldst go to court the sister of the King of Lochlann, and I myself Will go to redd the way for thee.*] (MacNair) There were three great warriors in the king’s palace in search of the daughter of the King of Lochlann, and they sent word for the one who was the most valiant of them to go to combat the youth that had come to the town. This one came, and the Amhus Ormanach was his name,t and he and Conall were to try each other. They went and they began the battle, Conall and the was Ormanach. The daughter of the King of Loch-

it may be some compound of or gold, such as ok-MHEINNEACH, gold-ore-ish, which would make him the wild man of the gold mines, or armour, or hair, or something else. Macgilvray called him an Amhas Oranuoch, the wild man of songs. lann came to the door, and she shouted for Duanachd Acha Draohd.*

“Well, then, if thou art, it is but little care thou hast for me. Many calving cattle and heifers gave my father to thy father, though thou art not going down, and standing behind the was Ormanach, and giving him the urging of a true wise bard } to hasten the head of the wretch to me for my dinner, for I have a great thirst for it.”

“Faire! faire! watch, oh queen,” said Duanach; “if thou hadst quicker asked it, thou, hadst not got it slower.”

Away went Duanach down, and it was not on the side of the was Ormanach he began, but on the side of Conall. “Thou hast not told it to me for certain, yet if it be thou, when thou art not hastening thine hand, and making heavy thy blow! And to let slip that wretch that ought to be in a land of holes, or in crannies of rock, or in otter’s cairns! Though thou shouldst fall here for slowness or slackness, there would neither be wife nor sweetheart crying for thee, and that is not the like of what would befall him.”

Conall thought that it was in good purpose the man was for him, and not in evil purpose;‡ he put his sword under the sword of the was Ormanach, and he cast it to the skies, and then he himself gave a spring on his back, and he levelled him on the ground, and then he began to take his head off.

“Still be thy hand, O Conall,” said Duanach Acha Draodh, “make him the binding of the three smalls there, until he gives thee his oaths under the edge of his set of arms, that there is no stroke he will strike for ever against thee.” *

“I have not got strings enough to bind him,” said Conall.

“That is not my case,” + said Duanach; “I have of cords what will bind back to back all that are in the realm of Lochlann altogether.”

Duanach gave the cords to Conall, and Conall bound the was Ormanach. He gave his oaths to Conall under the edge of his set of arms, that he was a loved comrade to him for ever; and any one stroke he might strike that he would strike it with him, and that he would not strike a stroke for ever against him; and he left his life

according to Armstrong, it is the origin of “runic.” The man who told this story clearly meant “purpose” by run; but perhaps the original meaning of the passage which comes repeatedly in this story was that Songstership of Magic field sang “good runes for the victory of his countrymen.” It must be remembered that Barra was in the way of Norsemen, and that their ways of life throw light on Gaelic traditions. According to Macgilvray—another islander—Dubhan MacDraoth was the Draoth (? herald) of the king of Eirinn when he went to put the Turk out of the realm of the emperor, and the king of Lochlann brought him home thence, and he was his draoth. As there was a guard of Norsemen in Constantinople this looks like a possible fact.

“The d 1 has sworn by the edge of his knife.”—Carle of Kellyburn Braes, Old Song. with the Avus Ormanach.] “Thou shalt have that (MacNair) woman whom thou art courting and making love to (a suridh ’s a seircanachadh), the daughter of the King of Lochlann,” said the Amhus Ormanach.

“Thou shalt have that woman for thyself,” said Conall; “it is not her that I am courting and making love to.”] MacGilvray,

The daughter of the King of Lochlann was right well pleased that he had left his life with the Avus Ormanach, so that it might be her own; but what should she do but send for Conall.*

What should the daughter of the King of Lochlann do but send word for Conall to pass the evening together with the Queen and with herself, and if it were his will that she would not give him the trouble of taking a step with his foot, but that she would take him up in a creel to the top of the castle. Conall thought that much reproach should not belong to one that was in the realm

» MacNair gives the following incidents more in detail, and more as matter of fact. The bard, to get food for the warrior, persuades the lady that he has come to court her, and with her consent, takes him food, and guides him to her chamber. He places a drawn sword between them, and never speaks. The bard sleeps on the stair outside; the king’s men seek in vain for Conall; and in the morning the bard explains the mystery of the drawn sword to the lady, who is content. And so it happens thrice, when Conall feels able to fight the lady’s brother, and the lady finds that the warrior is faithful to his first love, and the bard a cunning deceiver. This incident is very widely known in popular tales. See the “Arabian Nights,” Grimm, etc. “Gu de am fath ma ’n do rinn se é mata?” orsa ise. “Tha,” orsa Duanach, “tha e a los ma bhitheas leanabh gille eadar sibh gu am bi e na fhear claidheamh cho math ris fein.” Thuirt ise, “Ach naan saoillinn sin dheanainn a bheatha ciod air bhith doigh air an tigeadh e.” of Lochlann, against one that was in the realm of Eirinn, that he should go to do that. He went and he gave a spring from the small of his foot to the point of his palm, and from the point of his palm to the top of the castle, and he reached the woman where she was.*

“If thou art now sore or hurt,” said the daughter of the King of Lochlann, “there is a vessel of balsam (ballan fiochshlaint), wash thyself in it, and thou wilt be well after it.”

He did not know that it was not bad stuff that was in the vessel. He put a little twig into the vessel, so that he might know what thing was in it. The twig came up full of sap (snodhach) as it went down. Then he thought that it was good stuff, and not bad stuff. He went and he washed himself in it, and he was as whole and healthy as he ever was. Then meat and drink went to them, that they might have pleasure of mind while passing the evening, and after that they went to rest; but he drew his cold sword between himself and the woman. He passed the night so, and in the morning he rose and went out of the castle. He clashed his shield without, and he shouted battle or else combat to be sent to him, or else Breast of Light, daughter of the King of Laidheann. It was battle and combat he should get, and not Breast of Light, for she was not there to give him.

Then the daughter of the King of Lochlann called out. “Art thou there, my brother?” +

+ According to MacNeill it was her father; and as the young king goes away afterwards and is married, I follow MacNair. MacNeill killed a brother at landing. MacNair left him alive to

“I am,” said her brother.

“Well,” said she, “it is but little count that thou hadst of me. That man who has made me a woman of harrying and hurrying, to whom I fell as a wedded wife last night, not to bring me hither his head to my breakfast, when I am greatly thirsting for it.”

“Faire! faire! watch, oh queen,” said he, “if thou hadst asked it sooner thou hadst not got it slower. There are none of men, small or great, in Christendom, who will turn back my hand.”

He went, and before he reached the door, he set earthquaking seven miles from him. At the first (mothar) growl he gave after he got out of the castle, there was no cow in calf, or mare in foal, or woman with child, but suffered for fear. He began himself and Conall at each other, and if there were not gasgich there at work it was a strange matter. (MacNeill)

They drew the slender gray swords, and they’d kindle the tightening of grasp, from the rising of sun till the evening, when she would be wending west; and without knowing with which would be loss or winning. Duanach was singing iolladh to them, and when the sun was near about west.*

Then the daughter of the King of Lochlann cried out for Duanach acha Draodh that he should go down to give the urging of a truewise bard to her brother, to bring her the head of the wretch to her breakfast, that she was thirsting greatly for it.

be introduced further on, so I have altered one word in MacNeill’s account of the fight, and assume that Prince Cheery fire was a younger brother of the young king.

Duanach went, and if he did, it was not at the back of the King of Lochlann he went, but behind Conall.

“Oh, Conall,” said he, “thou hast not told me yet if it be thou. When thou art not hastening thine hand, but making heavy thy blow! and level that wretch that ought to be in a land of holes, or in clefts of rock, or in otters’ cairns! Though thou shouldst fall, there would be no wife or sweetheart crying for thee, and not Barp.—From a cross near Dupplin. so with him.”*

Conall thought that it was in good purpose the man was for him, and that it was not in bad purpose. He put his sword under the sword of the King of Lochlann, and he cast it to the skies; and then he gave a spring himself on his back, and he levelled him on the ground, and he began to take off his head.

“Still thy hand, Conall,” said Duanach achaidh Draodh,” little is his little shambling head worth to thee.*] You are long enough at that game, throw away (MacNeill) your swords and try another way. They threw away their swords, and they put the soft white fists in each other’s breasts; but they were not struggling long till Conall gave the panting of his heart to the young King of Lochlann on the hard stones of the causeway.‡

Said Conall to Duanach, “Reach hither to me my sword, that I may take off his head.”

“Not I, indeed,” said Duanach. “It is better for thee to have his head for thyself as it is, than five hundred heads that thou mightest take out with strife. Make him promise that he will be (diles duit) a friend to thee.”

Conall made the young King of Lochlann promise with words and heavy vows, that he would be a friend to Conall Guilbeanach, the son of the King of Eirinn, in each strait or extremity that might come upon him, whether the matter should come with right or unright; and that Conall should have the realm of Lochlann under cess.†

times as a kind of chorus. When the King of Lochlann had given these promises, Conall let him up, and they caught each other by the

And the young King of Lochlann gave a bidding to Conall that he should come in with him to his great house, to dine with him; and the young king set a double watch upon each place, so that none should come to disturb himself or the young son of the MaeNair. King of Eirinn, while they were at their feast.] A churchman was got, and the Amhas Ormanach was •.married to the daughter of the King of Laidheann.] When each thing was ready the royal ones sat at the great board; they laid down lament, and they raised up music, with rejoicing and great joy,] and they (MacNair) were in great pleasure of mind. Meat was set in the place for eating, drink in the drinking place, music in the place for hearing; and they were plying the feast with great sport in the dining-room of the King of Lochlann,] and they so liking and loving about each, (MacNeill)

are believed to be almost true history, that these raids were often made in single ships, and when simple Icelanders fought with Orkney earls and Norse kings, and Norman adventurers conquered England; it seems possible that one of the body guard from Constantinople might become “Emperor of the world” in the Hebrides, and a voyager from Greenland ‘king of the green isle that was about the heaps of the deep;” and that such exploits as these men performed might be magnified, and applied to a Celtic warrior by Celtic bards; or that a Celtic warrior may have done as much, It is admitted that Irish priests had found their way to Iceland before the Norsemen went there, and if so, perhaps Irish warriors may have been pirates or varangians, and successful

in forays on the Vikings, as Vikings were in Irish forays. We believe the Sagas, so far as they are reasonable; why should not truth be sifted from these romances also.

The soldiers were without watching, to guard the big house of the king, and they saw a great tasbarltach * coming the way; they had such fear before him that they thought they could see the great world between his legs. As he was coming nearer, the watch were fleeing till they reached the great house, and into the passage, and from the passage into the room where were the young King of Lochlann and the young son of the King of Eirinn, at their feast; and the great raw bones that came began to fetter and bind the men, and to cast them behind him till he had bound every one of them; and till he reached the young King of Lochlann, and he and the big man wrestled with each other.] He drew his fist and he struck the King of (MacNair) Lochlann between the mouth and nose, and he drove out three front teeth, and he caught them on the back of his fist; +] but the end for them was, that the young MacNein. King of Lochlann was bound and laid under fetters, and thrown behind together with the rest;] and the big (MacNair) man gave a dark leap and he seized the bride, and he took her with him.] (MacGilvray)

Conall gazed on all the company that was within, to try if he could see any man rising to stand by the king. When he saw no living man arising, he arose himself.] ‘Let that woman go,” said he; “thou hast (MacNair) no business with her.” That he would not do.] He (MacGilvray) gave a spring, he caught the slender black man between the two sides of the door (bhith), and he levelled him; and when he had levelled him, he let the weight of his knee on his chest.

+ MacNeill, who says he was a slender black man.

“Has death ever gone so near thee as that?” said Conall.

“It has gone nearer than that,” said the slender black man.

He let the weight more on him. “Has he gone as near as that to thee?”

“Oh, he has not gone; let thy knee be lightened, and I will tell thee the time that he went nearest to me.”

“I will let thee; stand up so long as thou art telling it,” said Conall.*] (MacNeill)

Conall loosed the young King of Lochlann and his men from their bonds and from their fetters, and. he sat himself and the young King of Lochlann at the board, and they took their feast; and the big man was cast in under the board. Again when they were at supper the king’s sister was with them, and every word she said she was trying to make the friendship greater and greater between her brother and Conall. The big man was lying under the board, and Conall said to him, “Thou man that art beneath, wert thou ever before in strait or extremity as great as to be lying under the great board, under the drippings of the waxen torches of the King of Lochlann and mine?”

Said he, “If I were above, a comrade of meat and cup to thee, I would tell thee a tale on that.”

At the end of a while after that, when the drink was taking Conall a little, he was willing to hear the tale of the man who was beneath the board, and he said to him, ‘Thou that art beneath the board, if I had thy name it is that I would call thee; wert thou ever in strait or extremity like that?”

And he answered as before.

Said Conall, “If thou wilt promise to be peaceable when thou gettest up, I will let thee come up; and if thou art not peaceable, the two hands that put thee down before, will put thee down again.”

Conall loosed the man who was beneath, and he rose up aloft and he sat at the other side of the board, opposite to Conall; and Conall said,

“Aha! thou art on high now, thou man that wert beneath. If I had thy name it is that I would call thee. What strait or extremity wert thou ever in that was harder than to be laid under the board of the young. king of Lochlann, and mine?”

Said he—‘ My name is Garna Sgiathlais Righ na Iospainde (Garna Skeelance, king of Spain.)* Let me tell you the hardest strait in which I ever was.] I macnair. was once a warrior, and the deeds of a warrior were on my hand well enough, and I was on my way to the dun of the king of Laidheann to take out Breast of Light with right strong hand; and I saw Maca-Mor, son of the king of the Sorcha, and the most beauteous drop of blood that I ever saw upon his shoulder. I never saw a woman that I would rather wish to have for myself than that woman. I was working with my own sword at him as high as the band of his kilt. He had but the one duan (song) for me—‘ Wilt thou not cease, and wilt thou not stop?’ but I gave no heed to Mace. him.*] He fell upon me, and he bound me, and fettered me, and set me on the horse before him, and he took me to the top of a rock. The rock was high, and he threw me down the rock, and if I had fallen to the bottom I had gone to little morsels, but so it was that I fell into the nest of a dreagan.† When I came to myself I looked about me, and I saw three great birds in the nest, and I held my hands and my feet to them, as they were bound, until they loosed them; the monsters! that they might tear me asunder.] (MacGilvray) I saw a cave at the back of the nest, and I dragged myself into the cave, and when the old dreagon would come and leave food for the young ones, I would stay till the old dreagan would go, and then I would come out and I’d take the food from the young dreagans; that was all I had to keep alive upon. But at last the young dreagans found death for want of food. The old dreagan understood that something was eating their food, and she ransacked all about the nest, and she went into the cave.†] (MacNair) She seized me then in her talons; she sailed to the back of the ocean with me; and she sprang to the clouds with me, and I was a while that I did not know which

was heaven or earth for me, nor whether she would let me fall in the drowning sea, or on rocks of hardness, or on cairns of stones;] she was lifting me and letting me MarNair. down, till she saw that I was soon dead, on the breast of the sea. Though I was not heavy, when I took the brine I was heavy indeed; and when she was lifting me she was spent. She lifted me with her from the surface of the sea as I was dead, and she sailed with me to an island, and the sun was so hot; and she put me myself on the sun side of the island. Sleep came upon herself, and she slept. The sun was enlivening me pretty well though I was dead.} She had come down (MacNeill) at the side of a well, and when she awoke she began at working herself about in the well. I understood that there was iocshlaint, healing in the well, because of how the side of me that was nearest to the well was healing with the splashes of water that the dreagan was putting from her. And I moved the other side of me towards the well, till that side was healed also. Then I felt for my sword; my sword had always stuck by me;* and I got it, and I rose up and I crept softly (eallaidh mi) to the back of the dreagan, and with the sword I struck off her head. But it was but simple to strike off her head, by keeping it off. The balsam that was in the well was so strong that though the head should be struck off her, it would spring on again, till at last I got the sword held between the head and neck, till the hag’s-marrow froze, and then I got the head and neck driven asunder.] I did not leave a thong of her uncut, macNair. and that is the death that went nearest to me, till the blood dried throughout the island,] and when the blood (MacNeill) dried I put the dreagan into the well, and I went and I washed myself in it; and so it was that it seemed to myself that I grew stronger and more active than I had ever been before. And the first exploit (gaisge) that I tried to do after that, was to try to contend against the King of Lochlann; and it would have gone with me hadst thou not been here. And my being cast into the nest of the dreagan, and what I bore before I got out, is a harder strait and a worse extremity, in my esteem, than to be under the board of the King of Lochlann and thine.”

When Garna Sgiathlais had finished his tale, he said to Conall, “Now, thou man that art yonder, I should like to have thy tale, thy name, thy land, and what is the reason of thy journey to Lochlann.” And Conall said—* My name is Conall Guilbeannach, son of the king of Eirinn.” And he told his own tale.*

The sister of the king of Lochlann was listening; she grew sorrowful, and the drops rained from her eyes when she understood that Conall had another sweetheart. She arose, and she left the room, and she was heavy and sad. Duanach followed her to console her, and put her in order as best he might. She took a ring from her finger, and she sent it to Conall by Duanach.

Conall turned Duanach back with it to herself again. He said that he had a ring from another on his finger already, since he had got no gift (tabhartas) to give it to her, as eiric.†

She sent Duanach back again with the ring to Conall,

t+ This gives eiric the meaning of a forfeit or fine. and she asked him to wear it for her. Conall took the ring and put it upon his finger. ] (MacNair)

“Thou must go with me,” said Conall to Garna Sgiathlais, “in search of that woman Breast of Light.”

“It is easier for me to bear death than to go to meet that man any more.”

“Thou wilt find death where thou art, then,” said Conall.

“It is certain that if I am to suffer death where I am that I will go with thee,” said the slender black man.] (MacNeill)

“The young king of Lochlann said that he would go too.” Said Conall,

“Who will be a guide to us to take us the shortest way?”

Said Duanach—“I will make a guide for you” (ni mise iull duibh).

Conall and his warriors made ready. The king of Lochlann’s sister wished Duanach to stay with her till the rest should come back, but Duanach would not stay.] MaeNair.

Away went Conall, and he rigged a ship, and when the ship was rigged he took with him the slender black man, Duanach acha Draodh, the king of Lochlann, and the Amhus Ormanach; they sailed, and crew enough with them, and they reached the realm of the Sorcha,*] (MacNeill)

When they reached, Duanach went into the house of Mac-a-Moir, and he said—“Hospitality from thee, A Mhiec-a-Mhoir.”

“Thou shalt have that, A Dhraoth aoith.”

“Champions to fight from thee, great warrior.”

“Thou shalt have that, thou Druid.”

Duanach got a sight of Breast of Light, and he told her that Conall had come with his warriors to take her from Mac-a-Moir, and Breast of Light was pleased, for

Duanach came out, and he told it to Conall, and the next day Conall came to the landmark of Mac-a-Moir. He clashed his shield—‘ Yielding or battle upon the

“Yielding thou gettest not in this town,” said Mac-a Moir; “though it were but speech it was a mark to Mac-a-Moir to come out to try a combat with Conall.”*] (MacNair) “I should go up to seek the thing I want,” said

“Well, indeed, thou shalt not. There promised to fall first none but me,” said the slender black man. I will go up before thee, and I will come to thee with

The slender black man went up, and he shouted battle or combat, or else Breast of Light, daughter of the King of Laidhean, to be sent out. That he should have battle and combat, but not Breast of Light,

They stood, Conall, the young King of Lochlann, and Garna Sgiathlais, opposite to the house of Mac-a-Moir, and they clashed their shields for battle. Mac-aof phrases, though sometimes they are very like each other. When these are rapidly given, the effect is that of a kind of chant; something which, with music, would almost be a rude chorus; and might be so uttered as to express the battle,

The Barra battles are thus arranged, and they have that kind

These strange figures may represent warriors of the period to which these romantic Gaelic stories chiefly belong. They are copied from plate lvii., Sculptured Stones of Scotland, which represents a curious cross near Dupplin Castle. They are consequently warriors who lived after the introduction of

Christianity into Scotland, and] beyond that I believe the date to be as uncertain as that of Conall. A great number of animals, knots, men, and monsters, are sculptured on the same cross, and it is manifestly very old. 3 i8 Moir sent out the three best warriors that were in his realm to battle with them. They drew their slender gray swords, and they went to meet each other, but of symmetry which pervades Gaelic popular tales, as they exist in the islands.

1st, The slender, dark man, who, according to MacNair, is the King of Spain, says that he will not let Conall go first on shore, because he has promised to be the first to fall. He lands, and strikes his shield. Five hundred Lughghaisgeach, and as many Treunghasgeach are sent out; he slays them all, and lies down amongst them.

2d, Conall, in the ship, says that he has fled, and offers again to go himself; but the Amhas Ormanach has sworn to fall first, and he goes. He finds the dead hosts, and thinks the plague is in the place, and keeps to windward; but his comrade is alive, and tells him that he must do as much as he has done; so he clashes his shield, and there come 500 Iughghaisgeach, 500 treunghaisgeach, and 500 langhaisgeach (a larger number, and the last of higher rank, full heroes)—these he slays, and lies down.

3d, The scene on board is repeated, and the King of Lochlann goes, and repeats the scene on shore; slays 1500, and lies down. To complete the symmetry, the first should have killed 500; the second, 1000; and the third, 1500.

4th, Conall says he was wrong to trust his matter to any other, and goes himself, followed by Duanachd acha Draodh, repeats the scene on shore, and is told by his comrades that the King of Sorcha has none alive now, but his “beag chuideache,” small company, and that he will rather come out than send them, They will not interfere unless Conall flees.

So far, then, the whole goes on increasing to the grand climax—which is the drawing of the great foe, the victory of the hero, the death of the villain, and a happy wedding; and this is no solitary instance of such an artificial arrangement, but is the principle on which a whole class of similar tales are arranged. From this symmetry, and the rhythmical jingle which pervades the language, I feel convinced that the island versions are the oldest, and that the mainland versions, though better preserved the combat did not last long till the three heroes were slain.

On the next day Mac-a-Moir sent the Ridire Leidire, as to incident, have lost somewhat of their original shape. There is as much difference in the stories, as there is in the manners of mainlanders and islanders, and that difference is very much greater than is generally known.

Mac-a-Mor Mac Righ Sorcha comes out to answer Conall “and the step of Conall was back, and not forwards;” but Duanach stands behind, and urges him with the words given above, perhaps words which have really been spoken by bards in real fights— and Conall casts up the sword of his foe to the skies, “he leaped on his back, and struck off his head.” Then the head was aiming straight at the trunk; but Conall, by the advice of Duanach, put the iron on the neck, and the head played “gliong ” on the sword, and sprang up again to the skies, ‘Then Duanach shouted, “step on one side; the head is aiming at thee;” and he did so, and the head went seven feet into the earth with the force that it had; and here the narrator remarked, “was not that a head! I did not Conall escape well!”

Then Conall took the lady from the Castle, and the narrator exclaimed triumphantly, “Was he the dastard of Eirinn now!” The hero and his three comrades, and the rescued lady get into their ship, and reach an island called Na h-Otolia.

Old MacPhie told this part better than I have ever heard a story told; it was exceedingly symmetrical, full of “ruithean” (runs), and very original.

Conall sails to the realm of the King of the Universe, and strikes his shield blow. Soldiers came out, and he slew them; nobles came out, and he knocked their brains out with one of their number; then came the king’s son, and he bound his wrists and ankles to the small of his back. He promised to serve him, and they sailed on to some realm, and challenged. The house of the Tamhasg here came in, and Duanach appeared, but he was the son of the King of Lochlann, wounded, and a prisoner. He cured his wounds with white sugar, and another fight took place, nearly the same as the last. They go on with the new king and the half-starved wight, and sail to Sorcha. the knight, the mangler, his brother, out to try a combat with any one of Conall’s warriors who had the heart to try against him.

Conall lands as a poor man, and learns that the lady is to be married to the king of Sorcha’s son, so on the morrow he challenges. He hears men coming, and he says, “Look out; who comes; is that himself?” There came a company in a particular dress (I think the dresses were red, green, and blue), but I did not note it, and I forget. ‘These, said he, are but the servants; go out and slay them. Then came the first of the nobles in another dress, and the same was repeated; then the last of the nobles in another dress, Then came the son of the King of Light himself, and then a fight indeed. Conall conquers, and is about to sail back to Eirinn, when an old man appears in a boat, and challenges. The warriors go one by one, and are slain, all but Conall; then he thinks for the third time of his grandfather, who appears and says, that old man was with me a student of the black art (then a lot of queer words, which I could not catch, and have never heard since), but he could beat him at one art, so they try, and the grandfather wins, After that Conall goes to Turkey, and rescues the King of Eirinn; and by the help of a magic ring he forces the queen-mother to confess that her two sons are not the king’s children, and Conall reigns. It will be seen from these abstracts that the version which I have followed is much more reasonable than the common versions. For example—

The Colonsay version, which varies here from all the rest,

When they set off from Lochlann to take Breast of Light from the King of the universe, Conall remembers that his father told him that he might get aid in extremity from High na Iorramhaich (the King of the Boat-songsters?). That personage says, I have twelve sons, and thou shalt get them. I have thirteen sons, but Cod is just married, and Cod has Counsel himself, Reach Cod.”

The Counsellor Son, whose name may be translated “What,” agrees to go if he has two-thirds of his counsel, till they come back, and away they go, with a kind of Rhyme-list, which is repeated several times.

“Who will go to battle with this hero of exploits to-day?” said Conall.

“Myself,” said Garna Sgiathlais, “because of how his brother threw me into the nest of the dreagan.”

Cead a’s Cod a’s Michead.

Dubhan Mac Draodh a’s Mac Righ Sigil

Then went Conall Curlew,

And the Savage of Songs, son of the King of Splitting the

Shields;

And the great warrior, son of the King of the Light;

And the thirteen sons of the King of the Boat-songsters;

Leave, and What, and Refusal.

Hook, son of Herald, and the King of Seegeel,*

To seek Breast of Light, daughter of the King of Leinster:

Going past a castle, there cried out

The great man whose the castle was,

Who are ye of the gentles of the three divisions?t

Or what are your names?

Or (who) will your histories make?

+ This would seem to indicate a date earlier that the discovery of the 4th division, America,

They went to meet each other; they drew their slender gray swords, and the two battled with each other; but long before the sun went west, the Ridire Leidire was slain.

Conall Curlew, it is my name,

Son of Eirinn’s King of Great Arms;

His battle spouse (adversary), under wounds

Of his spears, never got the next life.

They reached the house of the King of the Universe, and the herald went in, and there he found the most beautiful woman that ever was seen from the beginning of the universe to the end of eternity, with two drops of blood on every eye, weeping for Conall.

The herald repeats the list, and she says, “Every Draoth I ever saw was telling lies; if it were Conall he would come in.” Accordingly Conall sprang in, and gave her (na tri poga milisde blasda,) the three sweet tasty kisses, and sprang out again.

The King of the Universe yields the lady without a struggle, comes home from his hunting, and asks them all to a feast; a “minister ” was got, and they were married.

In the midst of the festivities, a shout was raised that the King of the Universe had fallen in combat with a monster on the strand. Conall got up to help, but Cod bade him sit still; and the king was seen in his chair.

This happened a second time; and the third Cod had no share of the counsel, so Conall took his own, and went out.

He found the monster and the King of the Universe dead, sole to sole; and there came a dove from the east, and she was stooping down to the monster with a leif] (a pebble possessed of medicinal virtues, a chrystal, a talisman), which she had, and the creature was stirring, and opening its eyes. He sprang, and took hold of the leig, and took it from the dove..

“Give me my leig,” said the dove, “and I will bring thy father and brothers alive in the Tuirk.”

“If thou wilt do but that, I will do it myself,” said Conall. He seized the dove, and pulled his head off; and who came to meet him but Cod. Then Conall and Cod and Dubhan and the lady went to Turkey, and found out the graves of the king and

Garna Sgiathlais took off the head, and he opened the mouth, and he cut the tongue out, and he split the tongue, and he struck it three slaps against himself; and he said to Mac-a-Moir—

“There, that is for thee, for how thou didst cast me into the dreagan’s nest.”

At night Duanach went into the house of Mac-a-Moir, and he said—

“Hospitality from thee, Vic-a-Voir.”

“Thou shalt get that, thou Druid.”

“Warriors to combat Conall to-morrow, Vic-a-Voir.”

“Thou shalt get that, thou Druid.”

“A sight of Breast of Light,” said Duanach.

“Thou shalt get that, thou Druid,” said Mac-a-Moir.

Duanach got a sight of Breast of Light, and he told her each thing as it was going on outside of the dun, and she was sorrowful that so much blood was being spilt for her; and Duanach came out, and he gave the tale of Breast of Light to Conall.

On the next day Mac-a-Moir himself came out to try a combat with any one who had the heart to go to try him.

“Who will go to battle with the hero of exploits to-day?” said Conall.

“Myself,” said Garna Sgiathlais, “for the day that he cast me down the rock to the dreagan’s nest.”

They came in front of each other; they drew their slender gray swords, and they kindled a fire of fists with their swords, from the rising of the sun till she was going west; but at last it went with Mac-a-Moir to

the rest, and brought them alive, and took them home; and the descendants of these people are still in Eirinn— Said John Macgilvray, labourer, Colonsay, July 9, 1860. level Garna Sgiathlais, to bind him and fetter him; and he took him with him, and he cast him into a den of lions that’ he kept for pastime for himself, and Mac-a-Moir would not come out again till the end of two days.

When the night came Duanach went into the house of Mac-a-Moir, and he said

“Hospitality from thee, Vic-a-Voir.”

“Thou shalt get that, thou Druid.”

“A sight of Breast of Light,” said Duanach.

“Thou shalt not get that,” said Maca-Moir; and then Breast of Light was put into a dark chamber, where she could not hear voice of friend, and where she could not see light of sun.

When the battle-day of Maca-Moir came, he came out, and he clashed his shield.*

“Who will go to battle with the hero of exploits to-day?” said Conall.

“Myself,” said the Young King of Lochlann.+

They came in front of each other; they drew their hard thin swords, and they went to battle with each other. But long before the sun went west, the young King of Lochlann was levelled, bound, and fettered, and taken away, and cast into the den of lions, where Garna Sgiathlais was; and Mac-a-Moir would not come out any more to hold battle till the end or five days.

» There seems to be a regular system in this series of battles. The victor in the last battle now comes out and gives the challenge.

Duanach went in every night of these to seek food, and he got it; and on a night of these nights he asked for warriors to hold battle against Conall.

“Thou shalt get that, thou Druid,” said Mac-a-Moir. A hundred full heroes were set in order before the great house on the next day.

It seemed strange to Conall to see the host going into order at the front of the big house; and he asked if there was any knowing what was the meaning of that host going into order, in ranks, at the front of the big house this day.

Said Duanach, I thought thou wert finding the time long here, not doing anything, and I asked for warriors to combat with thee.”

“I have no wish myself to be slaying men without knowing why; and, besides, how should I contend against a hundred full heroes, and I alone?” said Conall.

“So many as thou dost not slay with thy sword I will kill with my tongue,” said Duanach.*

They went to meet Conall.] (MacNair)

The smooth lad looked from one to two; and where they were thickest, there they were thinnest; and where they were thinnest, there were none at all there.] MacNeitt.

He struck them under, and over, through, and throughout; and those who were thinnest, were most ill scattered; and as many as were dead of them were lying down; and as many as were hurt, they sat; and the rest that were alive of them ran away.

+ Sheall an gille min o h-aon go dha ’s far am bo tiughe eud ’s an a bo tainn’ end ’s far am bo tainn’ eud cha robh gin idir And when the five days of delay that Mac-a-Moir had were gone past, Conall went to the fence of his house. Mac-a-Moir had a bell on the top of his house, and he was a warrior, any one who could strike a blow on the bell; and when a blow was struck on the bell, unless Mac-a-Moir should come out, then he was a dastard (cladhaire). Then when Mac-a-Moir was eating his breakfast, Conall went up upon the top of the house, and he struck a blow on the bell, and he drove the tongue out of the bell; and the tongue fell down through the house, and down through the board at which Mac-a-Moir was taking his food; and Mac-a-Moir said, “Ha, ha! comrade, it was easier to hold battle against thee on the day of Bein Eidinn than on this

Mac-a-Moir came out to hold battle. Conall clashed ann,] Bhuail e iad fodh-pa tharta trid us rompa ’s a chuid a bu tainne dhiubh gu am b ia bha a bu mhi-sgaoltiche, ’s a mhead a marbh dhiubh bha iad nan luidh ’s a mhead ’s a bha leointe dhiubh bha iad nan suidh agus an corr a bha beo dhiubh theich.] (MacNeill) He began at slicing at one end of the army of Lochlann till he went out at the other end; where they were thickest they were thinnest; where they were thinnest they were swiftest; where they were swiftest they were soonest slain, till he left no

his shield, and he said, “Yielding, or battle on the field.”

“Yielding thou gettest not in this town,” said Mac-a-Moir. Though it was but speech, it was a sign for Mac-a-Moir to come out, to try a battle with Conall.

They drew their slender gray swords, and they kindled a. fire of fists, from the rising of the sun till the evening, when she would be going west; without knowing with which of them the victory would be.

Duanach was singing “iolla” to them, and he said, “You are long enough at this play; throw from you your swords, and try it another way. They threw from them their swords, and they put their soft white fists in each other’s breasts, and they wrestled, but they did not take long at the wrestling, till Conall give the panting of his heart to Maca-Moir on the hard stones of the causeway. “Stretch hither my sword,” said Conall, “until I reap the head off him.”

“I will not stretch it,” said Duanach. It is better for thee that thou shouldst have his head for thyself as it is, than five hundred heads that thou mightest take out with strife,” said Duanach; “take a pledge of him that he will be faithful to thee.”

Conall made him promise that he would be faithful to Conall Guilbeanach, son of the King of Eirinn, whether the matter should come under right or unright; and that the realm of Scorcha should be under cess to the realm of Eirinn; and Mac-a-Moir gave these pledges to Conall, and he bound himself with words, and with weighty vows. Conall let him aloft; they caught hold of each other’s hands, and they made peace with great friendship, and they were quiet.* Then the first thing that Conall did was to go to the den of lions, to see if his two comrades were alive, and they were; for it is as left with the lions that they will not touch, and that they will not do any hurt to kings,

And Conall took Garna Sgiathlais and the young King of Lochlann out of the lion’s den, and he loosed each bond and fetter that was upon them, and they

The next thing that Conall did was to take Breast of Light out of the dark place in which she was, and

Mac-a-Moir gave a bidding to Conall, and to Breast of Light, to the King of Iospainde, and the young King of Lochlann, to come into his house to take a feast. They went there. They raised music, and they hid sorrow; word was sent for a priest, and Conall was wedded to Breast of Light, and they made a wedding that lasted for the six days of the week, and the last day was no worse than the first,] and that was the wedding that (MacNair) was cheery. Meat was set in the place for using, and drink in the drinking place, and music in the place for hearing. ‘They plied the feast and the company with joy, and pleasure of mind, and long was there mind of the wedding of Conall and Breast of Light.] (MacNeill) But there was much envy (farnaite) with the young it is to be hoped that he went home to his wife, the Princess of

Here, according to Macgilvray, Conall acquired a talisman

from a mysterious pigeon, and fell in with a monster which slew and was slain by the King of the Universe, (See ante). King of Lochlann, Garna Sgiathlais, and Mac-a-Moir at Conall, to see him married to one so beautiful, modest, and learned, and that they themselves should be wifeless, and they thought her like was not to be found. Each one of them was as anxious as the rest that her like should be his as a wife, and they left it to Breast of Light to say who was the other one that would come nearest to herself in look, learning, and modesty. She said that there was Aillidh, daughter of the King of Greece, but it was by mighty deeds that she would be got (sar ghaisge).

The three kings made it up that they would go to seek Aillidh, daughter of the King of Greece. Breast of Light was unwilling that Conall should go with the rest, but the rest would not go without him, and when she saw that she consented.

It was left to Conall to say which of them was to get Aillidh, and Conall said, “Since the King of Lochlann was the first king who had come under cess to him, that he was the first for whom he would get a wife.” Duanach wished to go with them, but Conall left him to be a king, and to take care of Breast of Light till he should come back.

Away went Conall, young son of the King of Eirinn, Mac-a-Moir, son of the King of Sorcha, and Garna Sgiathlais, King of the Hispainde, to get Aillee (Beauty), daughter of the King of the Grayke (Greece), for the young King of Lochlann to wife, and they reached Greece.*

An old man met them that was their guide. He gave them a tale about the realm of Greece, the desire of the hosts, the battle; the form of the arms, and the customs of the country (miann sloidh, feachd; ’s rian nan arm, agus cleachdanan na ducha), and he told them the tale of the King of Greece, and how his daughter was kept in the dun, and that no one at all was to get Beauty, daughter of the King of Greece, to marry, but one who could bring her out by great valour; and the old man told them about the wall that was for a bulwark (daingneach) round about the dun, how many heroes and soldiers there were in the inside of the ramparts; and besides, that there was no way to get Beauty but by strong battle, brave deeds, and ruse (feachd làdir, sàr ghaisge, agus seoltachd). Conall went, and the three other kings, aloft up a mountain that was above the dun of the big town of the king, so that they might see what was going on below beneath them. They lighted upon hunting bothys (bothain sheilg) in the mountain, and not the difficulty for the Western Islanders; for example, Audun, an Icelander, before 1066, and within two years, sailed from Iceland to Norway, and thence to Greenland, back to Norway, and thence to Denmark, to give the king a white bear. He made a

pilgrimage to Rome, and returned to Denmark and Norway again, and went home to Iceland with a big ship, having conversed on equal terms with the Kings of Denmark and Norway, and this story is believed to be true. The countrymen of Audun fought in Ireland in 1814, and got the worst of it, and one who was at the battle went to Rome, and returned to Iceland. In short, supposing this to be a romance of that period, nothing is more in accordance with probability than that a lot of warriors should set out in search of kingdoms and princesses along the sea-coast of Europe, and that their adventures should be woven in with the romances of the Western Islands of Scotland, which the Norsemen they went in into them, and they were there all night, and on the next day they found old clothes in the hunting huts.

Conall put on some of the old clothes which they found, to go in the semblance of a poor lad, to try if he could get to the inside of the gates (cachlaidhean) of the dun of the king’s town, and he said to the other kings if they should hear on the third day a hunting cry, or any terror (faoghaid na fuathas), that they should run swiftly to help him. He went, and he reached one of the gates (geata) of the dungeon (daingneach), and he was as a shy boy, ill-looking, without the look of a man, without the port of a lad, or a dress of armour (mar bhallach moitire mi sgiamhach, gun aogosg duine gun dreach gille, na culaidh armachd).

He reached the gate-keeper (fear gleidh a gheata), but that one would not let him in. He asked him what he sought, and Conall said that he had come to see if he could get teaching in feats of arms, nimbleness, and soldier-craft (ionnsach an iomairt arm, luth chleas, ’s gaisge). The gate-keeper sent word for the ruler of the fort (fear riaghladh an duin), and he came and he asked Conall whence he was. Conall said that he had come from the neighbourhood (iomal) that was farthest off of the realm. The high ruler asked him what customs the people of that place had, and if they tried to do any feats?

Conall said that they used to try casting the stone of force (clach neart), and hurling the hammer.*

The high ruler asked Conall to come in, and he set some to try putting the stone against Conall. Conall could throw the stone further than any of them, and they saw that he had no want of strength if there were enough of courage in him.

A stick sword was given him, and they were teaching him swordsmanship, and Conall was coming on well. But it was little they knew about the teaching that Conall had got from the Gruagach of Beinn Eidinn before then. Conall made himself acquainted with the keeper of the arms, and he was exceedingly anxious to get a sight of their arms-house, but the armourer said that could not be done, for fear of the high ruler of the dun. But on the morning of the third day, when the governor was eating his breakfast, the armourer said to Conall, that if he were able enough now, that he might get a sight of the armoury before the high man who ruled the dun should come out from his morning meal.

Conall went with him swiftly, and the man who was keeping the arms opened the armoury (taisg airm). Conall went in and he looked amongst the arms, and he spied great glaives at the furthest off end of the armoury. He went where they were, and he began to try them, he would raise them in his hand, and brandish them, and some he would shake out of their hilts (ceana bhairt), and others he would break. The man who had the care of the arms began to shout to him that he should come out, but Conall was pretending that he heard him not. Conall would look at the swords, and in ancient Greece long ago, as they still do in the Highlands

and Lowlands of Scotland, The hitch in romances is in the language. Heroes must have been great linguists, but even that hitch is here met, for the old Irish king was educated in Italy and Greece, some were rusted, and some were not. At last he found a sword that pleased him.*

He was going the way of the door of the arms-house with it, and the man who had the care of the arms was begging him to put it from him, but Conall gave him no heed, and the man who had charge of the armoury said—

If the high governor of the dun comes he will take the head off me for letting thee in.”

When Conall was at the door the governor came in, and he desired Conall to put away that sword. If he knew the name of the man who had had that sword that he would not be long putting it from him; that his name was Mor ghaisge na mor ghleadh. Great valour of the great tricks.

“You may give it that name still,” said Conall.

The high governor said that he would drive the head off the man who had the care of the arms for letting Conall into the armoury, and off Conall for taking the sword out.

“Take thou care that it is not thine own head that will be down first, comrade.”

The high governor called for his men. Conall struck the head off the high Governor, and he gave a hunting whistle (fead fhaoghaid), and the people gathered with their arms about Conall.

He struck them, under them, over them, through and throughout them; where they were thickest there they were thinnest; where they were thinnest they were most scattered.

The king came out, and he said to Conall, “Thou man that came on us a-new; hold on thy hand, and thy blade.*

The three other kings came to the gate, but they were not getting in. Conall ran to the gate, and he struck it a kick, and he drove it into splinters. Then came the King of Lochlann, and the King of Light, and the King of the Hispainde, in with their arms. The people of Greece fled back, and the King of Greece said—

“Oubh bhoubh ouv vouv!” “What a wonderful turn has come on the matters! It was in the prophecies that a son of a king of Eirinn would come, and that he would lay the realm of Greece under cess, and instead of that is an awkward fellow of an ill-looking boy, that came and put the realm under cess.”†

Said Conall, with a high voice, Thou King of Greece, take not thou each man according to his seeming. I am Conall Guilbeinich, son of the King of Eirinn, but it is not to put the realm of Greece under cess I am come, but to take out Beauty, thy daughter.

Said the King of Greece, “Thou shalt have Beauty, my daughter, and two-thirds of my realm while I myself am alive, and the whole after my death.”

Conall asked that Aillidh should be brought out, and she came, and she was right willing to wed Conall, but Conall told her he was married already to Breast of Light, daughter of the King of Laidhean; and the King of Greece said—

If thou hast got Breast of Light, it is no wonder though thou shouldst not take my daughter.”

Conall told Beauty that she had her two choices, to take the King of Lochlann, or be without a husband; and she preferred to marry the young King of Lochlann.

And word was sent for a priest; and Aillidh, daughter of the King of Greece, was wedded to the young King of Lochlann, and they made a wedding that lasted for the six days of the week, and the last day was no worse than the first day.

And when they were at the wedding, they asked Aillidh, the bride of Lochlann’s King, who was the next one that was nearest to her in beauty and comeliness, virtue and learning. And she said that there was Cuimir,* daughter of the King of Na Frainge (the Franks, France).

Conall asked Garna Sgiathlais if we were willing to take that one as a wife, and he said that he was. Conall asked Aillidh where Cuimir was dwelling, and Beauty told that she was in the great royal house, and that there was a great fortress wall about the great house, and that there was a lion on either side of the gate, that was in through the wall, and that there was the house of the Tamhaisg, the best warriors that the King of France had, a little further on; and the Tamhaisg were proud and merciless to any over whom they might gain victory.+

The valiant kings made ready to go to France, but

+ “Gu borb aniochdmhor ri feadhainn air bith air am faighe iad buaigh. Aillidh was not willing to part with her new married husband, but the other warriors would not part from him; he must needs go with them, till they should put an end to all the valorous deeds they had to do, before they could get wives for Garda Sgiathlais, King of Hispania, and Mac-a-Moir, son of the King of Sorcha.

The four valorous kings put each matter in order in Greece as best they might, and they left Beauty in the care of her father till the King of Lochlann should come back. They went to France and when they reached France they took a tale from each traveller that met them by the way, and so they got guidance to the great royal house, and when they reached the gate, that was without in the fortress wall, there was a great lion at either side of the gate, but that put neither fear nor sorrow upon them,* because it is as a charge left with lions that they will not injure kings, or the clan of kings. And Conall went on past the lions, and no one of them stirred his head at him. He reached on forward to where the Tamhasgan were, and they began gnashing their teeth,; making ready to spring upon him. He took sure notice of them, for the thick-knobbiest one and the thin-shankiest of them. He compassed them, under them, over them, through and throughout them; and he seized on the two shanks of the thin-shankiest one amongst them, and he was driving out the brains of the rest, with the knob of that one, and the brains of that one with the knobs of the rest, till the part that was thickest of them was thinnest, and the lot that was thinnest they were the most ill scattered.

The King of France came out, and he said to Conall.

“Thou man that hast come on us from a strange land, withhold thy blade and thine hand; slay not my warriors wholly; these are the Tamhaisg, the best warriors I have to guard the great royal house; but they are but as reeds in the front of a meadow before thee. How earnest thou past the lions?”

“Thou and thy lions!” said Conall; “I will go down past thy lions, and I will come up past thy lions, and they will not touch me; and I will bring up three other warriors, that are down here, and the lions will not touch them.”

Garna Sgiathlais Mac-a-Moir and the King of Lochlann came up past the lions, kings were they, and a clan from kings all together, and the lions did not stir their tongues against them.

The King of France asked whence they were, and Conall told that he was Conall Guilbeanach, son of the King of Eirinn, and he shewed the young King of Lochlann, and Maca-Moir, son of the King of Sorcha, and Garna Sgiathlais, king of Hispania; and he told him that it was not to disturb France they had come,* but to take out Cuimir, daughter of the King of France, to be wife to Garna Sgiathlais King of Hispania.

Said the King of France, “He shall get that.”

Cuimir was brought out, and the matter was hidden, and it was Conall she would rather take, for it was he that had done the bravest deeds; but Conall told her that he was wedded already to Breast of Light, daughter of the King of Laidhean, and that the young King of Lochlann was wedded to Aillidh, daughter of the King of Greece, and that it was Garna Sgiathlais, King of Hispania, she was to have. Cuimir was willing to take the King of Hispania, so that she might be a queen in a realm that was near the realm of her father. Word was sent for a priest, and the wedding was done, and they made a wedding that lasted for the six days of the week, and the last day was no worse than the first day.

When they were at the wedding they were talking about who they should get for a wife for Mac-a-Moir; and they left it to be said by Cuimir, the young Queen of Spain. Who was the one that was fittest, in her esteem, to be a wife to Mac-a-Moir. And she said that there was Deo Greine nighean righ an Eilean Uaine.* They asked her if that one was to be got. She said that she was not, but by exceeding valour; that there was a fortress wall round about the dun of the king, and that it discomfited the heroes; that Deo Greine would be in a turret that was on the top of the dun, and that none but a valiant warrior could get her; but if Mac-a-Moir should get her, that he had no cause to regret that he was the last of the kings who had got a wife.

Mac-a-Moir was longing to begone in pursuit of Deo Greine, and the rest were as willing and well pleased as himself; When they were at the feast, the King of France was setting a ship in order for them. Cuimir, daughter of the King of France, was not willing to let

+ Togarach aighearach, her new married husband, Garna Sgiathlais, away with the rest, but when the rest saw that, they would not go without him. When Cuimir understood that, she agreed to let him go with them.

The King of France set his slender ship in order for them, with a crew of disciplined, active, strong, hardy men, and the four honourable kings went on board, and the Frenchmen sailed with them to the shore of the Green Island.*

They brought the ship to port,t and they put Mac-a-Moir and the three gallant kings who were with him on shore, and they themselves sailed back, home to France.

They went on forwards to the dun of the town of the King of the Green Island, taking a tale from each traveller and journeyer that might fall in with them. They got on till they reached the fortress gate of the dun of the king’s town. Conall struck at the gate, and the gate-keeper asked what they sought. Conall answered that they came to seek Sunbeam, daughter of the King of the Green Isle, to be wife to one of them. Word was sent for the high Governor of the dun, and he came, and he asked them who they were, and what they sought. Conall told him that they were kings, and they had come to seek Sunbeam as a wife to one of them. The high Governor said that they should not get her but by exceeding valour; that they must hold a battle against the warriors of the dun, and gain victory over them.

+ Calla, Compare Calais.

Conall asked who was the sturdy hero that would go first to battle against the warriors of the dun.

“Myself,” said Mac-a-Moir. “If I am to get the daughter of the King of the Green Island as a wife,] I will shew that I am worthy to have her.”

They were asked in, and they went.

Warriors were got to combat Mac-a-Moir, son of the King of Sorcha. They drew their blades, and Conall, and Garna Sgiatlais, and the young King of Lochlann were singing iolla to them. But they had not taken long of the contest, when Mac-a-Moir struck the head off the champion of the Green Isle.

Said Mac-a-Moir to the Governor, “Pick up the champion’s head, and get me another one.”

Another was got; but they had not taken long at the combat when Mac-a-Moir struck the head off that one too. He asked for another, and another was got, but it was not long till the head went off that one in like manner.

The King of the Green Isle was taking sport at them, and he said—

“I see, my hero, that thou wouldst slay my men altogether, one after another, if thou hadst chance of arms. I am not for spilling more blood; I will try it another way.

My daughter is in a turret, that is at the top of the dun, and the man that can take her out shall get two-thirds of my realm while I live, and the whole of my realm when I die; I am but an old man, and it is not likely that I will be long alive now, at all events.*

The way was shewn them to the turret, in which was the king’s daughter, at the top of the dun.

“Who is the first man that will try to take the king’s daughter out of the turret?”” said Conall.

“Myself,” said Mac-a-Moir.

The turret was aloft, on the top of three carraghan ard, lofty pillars.

Mac-a-Moir went, and he did his very best, but he could not get aloft; he thrust the pillars hither and thither; he tried every way he knew, but it discomfited him.

“Who will try it again?” said Conall.

“Myself,” said the young King of Lochlann. He went, and tried as well as he could, but he could not level one of the posts that was beneath the turret, but it beat him.

Said the King of the Green Isle, “I perceive, my men, that it will not go with you to take my daughter out of the turret. Many a man has striven to take her out, but it went with none of them, and I see that it will not go with you any more; you may be off home.”

“Well, then, if it does not go with us to bring her out, it is a great disgrace to us,” said Conall.

He went and he struck a kick on one of the posts that was keeping the turret aloft, and the post broke, and the turret fell, but Conall caught it between his hands before it reached the ground, A door opened, the Sunbeam came out, the daughter of the King of the Green Isle, and she clasped her two arms about the neck of Conall, and Conall put his two arms about Sunbeam, and he bore her into the great house, and he said to the King of the Green Isle, ‘Thy daughter is won.”

Sunbeam was very willing to stick to Conall, but Conall told her that he was married already to Breast of Light, daughter of the King of Laidheann, and the King of Lochlann was wedded to Beauty, daughter of the King of Greece, and that Garna Sgiathlais, King of Hispania, was married to Comely, daughter of the King of France, and that Great Hero, son of the King of the Light, was the only one of them that was unmarried.

The King of the Green Isle was pleased when he understood that they were honourable kings altogether, and that his daughter had been taken out with honour; and he said that he would give two-thirds of his realm while he was alive, and the whole after his death, to the one that his daughter should have, and that he was an old man, and that he would not be long alive altogether. Every one of them was married but Mac-a-Moir, and he was the most unblemished amongst them. Though Mac-a-Moir was not so handsome as the rest, he was a stately, comely, personable man; and Sunbeam said that he was the husband she would have, and word was sent for a priest, and Sunbeam, the daughter of the King of the Green Island, was wedded to Mac-a-Moir, son of the King of Light, and they made a wedding that lasted for the six days of the week, and the last day was no worse than the first day, and if there were better there were, and if not let them be.

When the other heroes found that Mac-a-Moir was married, they were in great haste to go home to see their own wives.*

The King of the Green Isle set in order a great high masted white-sailed ship. There was a pilot in her prow, and a steersman in the stern, and men managing the rigging-ropes in the middle. Each meat and each drink as seemly for kings was put on board.*

When each thing was ready, and each matter arranged as it ought to be, Conall, son of the King of Eirinn, Garna Sgiathlais, King of Hispania, and the King of Lochlann left a blessing with the King of the Green Isle, with Mac-a-Moir, and Deo Greine, and they went on board of the ship. The shipmen sailed with the ship, and they sailed to realm of Sorcha, with Conall, the son of the King of Eirinn.+ Conall reached the dun of the big town of Sorcha, came to Breast of Light and Duanach, without their having hopes of him, and they rejoiced with great joy to see him. Conall and Breast of Light were a while merry, and joyously, and fondly about each other, and Duanach was blithely and cheerily with them,} and when Conall had spent a while cheerily joyously with Breast of Light and Duanach, he began to think it long that he was not hearing from the realm of Iubhar how the fight was coming on between his mother’s brother and the Turks,§ or if his father or brothers were yet alive. He thought that he would go to the realm of the Inbhar to see.

t MacNair here sends the two kings home, but, according to MacNeill and the rest, Conall and two comrades sailed to the realm of the Turk. So I leave out a paragraph. He wished to leave Duanach, as he was before, to take care of Breast of Light and the realm, but Duanach would not stay. If Conall would go the realm of Iubhar, Duanach would go with him. Breast of Light wished Conall to go first to Eirinn to see if each thing were right in Eirinn, but his own counsel was best with Conall, and he wished Duanach to stay. But this is what Duanach said, “If thou goest, Conall, to the realm of Iubhar thou wilt fight, and I will be needful enough for thee.”

And so it was agreed that Conall should take Duanach as a servant and counsellor.

Breast of Light, and Conall, and Duanach, went MaeNair, away.*]

Then he took with him the woman on board of the ship, and when he and his men were returning he was running out of provisions. There was an island here which they called Eilean na h-Otolia. The man who was over the island was (so) that if he was for giving food it could be got for money, and if he were not he had three big dogs, and he would let them out, and they would kill them all.

Said the slender dark man to Conall, “I would rather myself thou wouldst stay out of it, than go into it.”

“I myself would not rather stay than go, I will go and I will get it; but if you see that he is not willing to give it to me, you will leave me the front, and you will stay behind me, if so be that he hounds the dogs at us,” said Conall.

He went up to the house, and he asked if he could get food. He said that they should not, that plenty were asking for it who were more likely to get it than he.

He let out the dogs. Every one of the company stood at the back of Conall, and he himself went to the front, he caught a napkin and put it about his fist. Each one as he came, he was seeing his liver down through his mouth, from the rage that he had towards the men. He thrust his hand into the mouths of the dogs, one after another, and he took the heart and the liver out of them, and he killed them. “Come now and you shall get food,” said the man

“Come now and you shall get food, who was over the island.

“Thou mayest give that now, but I will not give thee one ‘sgillinn’ for it; unless thou thyself hadst been a ‘ Trusdar,’ a stingy filthy wretch, thou hadst got payment; but since thou wert so dirty, thou shalt not get payment, and we shall get meat in spite of thee.”

“That is easy enough for you now,” said he. “But hast thou heard how it has befallen the King of Eirinn and the King of Laidhean; they were fighting the Turk?”

“Well then I have heard how it has befallen these doubtless; the battle went with the Turk, and all the company that the King of Eirinn, and the King of Laidhean had, have been slain; and the Great Turk has the King of Eirinn, and the King of Laidhean bound back to back, under cats, and dogs, and men’s spittle, and with shame and insult on themselves and on their hosts, that came to give battle and could not do it.”

“That story is sad for me to hear, but though it is, keep thou this woman for me till I come back from these men.”

“Well, then,” said he, “I will not keep her, I have no way of keeping her. The thing that I had myself for that, thou thyself hast put me in want of it.”

“Unless thou hadst been such a Trusdar of a man as thou wert, I had not put thee in want of it, but thou must keep this woman, or else there will not be much of the world for thee, after letting her go,” said Conall.] (MacNeill) He went and he left the woman, and when they reached the realm of Iubhar the fighting was going on, Conall and Duanach did not go to the house of the king but to a hostelry. They got their supper that night and they went to bed. On the next morning Conall’s waking was to hear shouts of hosts and clash of armour;* heroes starting, commanders arraying soldiers to go to give a day of battle to the Turks. Conall arose and Duanach, they put on them their army and their armour of battle, and they went to the fight on the side of the people of the Iubhar. The fighting began and Conall was mowing down the Turks as though it were a man who was cutting down sow-thistles. There was one big man amongst the Turks, and he was mowing down the people of the Iubhar in the same way. It was not going with any one to slay him, and they thought that no arms could touch him. He and Conall met each other in the fight. They tried their nimble feats upon each other, and Conall slew the big Turk. When the Turks saw that their champion was slain they fled; and the people of the Inbhar followed the rout,; and they thought that they had not left many of the Turks alive. In the night the people of Inbhar returned back, and they thought they would have peace on the next day; and no one of them could understand who he was, the hero that had slain the big Turk, that had done them so

As on the other days Conall and Duanach went to the hostelry where they were the former night, they got food and bed, and they thought, by the number of Turks that had been killed, that the war was at an end, and they went to sleep.

The King of the Iubhar had never seen Conall before; but it seemed to him, by the look of his face,* that he was of the people of Eirinn. They went to rest that night full of joy, thinking that the Turks would not bring any more trouble upon them. But no matter. What they got in the morning was, the tale of horror that the Turks were coming forward as numerous as they ever were. They had for it but that they must arise, and put men in their harness, to go to give a day of battle to the Turks again; and Conall’s morning waking was to hear the shout of the chiefs calling out their soldiers to give a day of combat to the Turks.

Conall sprang out of his bed and he put on his array and armour,} and he went with the host of the Iubhar to battle against the Turks. When the two hosts met each other, Conall saw the big Turk that he had slain the day before coming forward that day again, and mowing down the people of the Inbhar as he used to do.

Conall was mowing down the Turks till he and the big Turk met each other, and tried their agile valour upon each other that day again; and the big Turk was killed again that day by Conall. When the Turks saw that their champion had been slain, they fled, and the people of Iubhar followed the rout, and killed so many of the Turks, that it seemed to them there were not many of them to the fore, and they returned joyfully, cheerily, thinking that there was an end of the war. When Conall returned to the hostelry, he ate his supper and lay down to sleep.

It seemed to the King of Iubhar, that the man who had done the great feats of valour was his sister’s son Conall, and he went to inquire about him. He heard that it was in the hostelry that the gallant man was dwelling, and the king reached the inn,

Duanach knew him, and the king asked Duanach if his master were in.

“He is,” said Duanach, “but he is in his sleep, and I will not wake him.”

“I am anxious to see him,” said the king.

If thou choosest thyself to go to wake him,” said Duanach, “thou mayest, but I will not wake him.”

“What is thy country?” said the king.

“It is,” said Duanach, “the country from which my master came.”

“What is the country* whence came thy master?

“That,” said Duanach, ‘is the realm whence came the King of Eirinn.”

“What is his name?” said the king,

“It is,” said Duanach, “Conall Guilbeanach Mac do High Eirinn.”

“Tell Conall, when he wakes, that his mother’s brother came to visit him, and that he wishes to see him at the house of the King of Iubhar to-morrow.”

I will do that,” said Duanach.t

~Coian duthaich. Who she the country?

On the next day the Turks were coming on to drive the battle as they used, against the host of Iubhar; and it was rustling of plumes, and shouting of hosts,* that awoke Conall. Then there were chiefs setting soldiers in order to go to hold battle against the Turks. Conall arose and put on his armour, and as soon as he could, and he went with the people of Iubhar to the battle. Conall saw the big Turk coming opposite to him the third time; and Conall killed the big Turk the third time, and the rout went over the Turks. The people of Iubhar followed them, and they slew the Turks with a great battle; + and when no more of the Turks were to be seen, the host of Inbhar returned.

It seemed to Conall that there was something that was to be understood going on in the field of battle in the night; and he ordered Duanach to go to the hostelry to take his sleep, and that he himself would stay to watch the slain.‡ Duanach went a little way from Conall, and he stayed to watch Conall.

When the night grew dark there came a great Turkish Carlin, and she had a white glaive of light with which she could see seven miles behind her and seven miles before her; and she had a flask of balsam § carrying it.

And when she would reach a corpse, she would put three drops of the balsam in his mouth; she would strike

while the king walks down in the evening, and calls and leaves a message with a gille, to invite the warrior to the palace, exactly as a hospitable Highland farmer often does when he hears of a stranger at the country inn, and asks him to his house, According to MacNair, this was the King of Eirinn, but as he was a prisoner or slain according to the others, I have substituted the uncle for the father, three slaps on their hurdles, and she would say, “Get up, and go home; thy kail will be cold,”* and they would rise and go.

She was going from one to one, and bringing them alive, and they would be ready to come to fight again on the next day. At last she came where Conall was himself; she put three drops of balsam into his mouth, and hit him three slaps, and she said, “Get up, and go home, thy kail will be cold.”

Conall sprang up suddenly, and she knew that he was not of the dead Turks, by his sudden rising, and she fled. Conall stretched out after her; she threw away the flask of balsam that she had, and the white glaive of light, but Conall ran till he was up with her; he gave a stroke of his sword, and he made two halves of her. He turned back, and he found the white glaive of light, but he could not find the flask of balsam. He was seeking it back and forwards, and hither and thither, and at last he saw Duanach, and he shouted.

“Is that thou?” Duanach.

“It is I,” said Duanach; “and it well for thee that I am here.”

“Hast thou got the flask of balsam?” said Conall.

“I have,” said Duanach.

Duanach took the flask of balsam where Conall was, and Conall gave the white glaive of light to Duanach to lead the Turks who had been brought alive out of the field, and Conall went to sleep since he could do no more good till he should sleep; and he put the flask of balsam under his head, and he slept. Duanach went away with the sword, and he led the Turks out of the field; he led them through mosses and bogs, and when he found that they were in a dangerous place he would put the sword out of sight, and the Turks could not see, and they would fall into holes, and they would go down into marshes (criathraichean), and into well-eyes (suiltean-cruthaich), and they would be drowned. And again, he would bring the sword in sight, and the sword would shine, and the Turks that had not been drowned would follow, and Duanach would lead them through places where there were many scaurs, and Duanach would put a covering on the white glaive of light, and darkness would come, and many of the Turks would fall amongst the scaurs; and when they were out of that peril Duanach would bring the white glaive of light into sight to let them see, and he would lead them amongst crags; and he would hide the sword, and the Turks would lose their way, and they would go over the crags. It was thus that Duanach followed on till he had put an end to all the Turks by leading them over crags, and through scaurs, and amongst bogs. Then Duanach turned back to where Conall was, and he staid near him till he had got his sleep over. When Conall awoke, Duanach told him how he had done with the Turks, and Conall was pleased that the war was over.*] MaeNair.

Then Conall brought the people that were slain to life with the balsam. He went about the field, and he found one of his brothers there levelled, and he said to Garna Sgiathlais, “Come thou and take this one with thee, and take care of him till I come back.” He looked, and he searched about, and he found another of his brothers, and he put him on the back of the King of Lochlann, and he asked him to take him with him.*] (MacNeill) He went in where his father was, and the Great Turk came out on his hands and knees.] He found his father (MacPhie) and the King of Laidheann bound. He loosed his father and the King of Laidheann, and he seized nobles as honourable as there were within, and he bound them

Then he asked what death the Great Turk was threatening for his father and the King of Laidheann. They said that he was threatening to hang them to an oaken beam that was within, and to thrust two iron darts through the bodies of each one of them. “The very death with which he threatened you] I will give to

He seized the Great Turk and he hanged him, and he thrust the darts through his body, and he did the very same to another great noble.] The King of Eirinn was right well pleased, and that day they had peace. The King of Eirinn took Conall before the King of the Iubhar. The King made great rejoicings at seeing Conall, and because Conall had give peace to the realm of the lubhar. No less would suffice the brother of Conall’s mother than that Conall should be crowned King of the realm of Iubhar. The nobles of the realm (flathan na Rioghachd) were gathered, a great feast was made, and Conall was crowned King over the Iubhair; but though he was he did not stay in that realm. He was in haste to see Breast of Light.] He took his father with him and the (MacNair) King of Laidheann and they sailed to the island (na h-Otolia). They took Breast of Light on board out of that realm and they put the young King of Lochlann on shore in a fitting place for going to Greece, and Garna Sgiathlais on shore in France.] They sailed to (MacNair) Eirinn,] and they sent a gille on foot, and a gille upon MacNeill, the top of a horse, and another gille swifter than that, to tell the Queen of Eirinn that the king was coming home, and that Conall was married, and that he and his wife were coming home with the king. When the message came to the Queen of Eirinn, that was the joyful tale for her. She made a great preparation that she might have a feast ready for them, and a cheery company gathered to give them a royal welcome, and when the King of Eirinn, Conall, and Breast of Light came home, there were there to welcome them, Duncan MacBrian, Murdoch MacBrian, Frenzy, and Whitebelly, red men from Mull, boatmen from Lorn, the brave blinding band of the King of Eirinn, and the great gentles of the realm, together as many as there were of them at the time.*

They had a hearty feast, with joy and solace; they raised music, and laid down lament, and each one was content, they never saw such rejoicing before; and when the people thought the time fitting to go home, each one went to his own place, and there was peace

Conall and Breast of Light thought that they would go to the realm of Laidheann to see her father. They made ready a ship, they went on board, and they sailed: they reached the realm of Laidheann, and the king had no hope or expectation of them at the time, but he saluted them, and made them welcome.] Each thing (MacNair) was set in order to make Conall and Breast of Light

And Conall and Breast of Light stayed in the realm of Laidheann till they had their first son, and they were happy and pleased together, but that she had had a cut slicing tongue at odd times, as happed to many of the women, and sure am I that Duanoch Achaidh Draodh stuck to Conall, and that his counsel was ever truly wise and truly moderate.] And again, their son was (MacNeill) crowned Emperor of Eirinn, and King over the realm of Laidheann, and over the realm of Iubhar, and he had the realm of Lochlann, the realm of Sorcha, the realm of Greece, France, and Hispania, under cess, and so be they left.] (MacNair)

According to MacPhie and others, Conall was the king’s son, by a girl, who was daughter of a mysterious old man, and he was a comrade of the Finne, and lived underground; he is a magician always. Conall, at the end, puts a ring on the Queen’s finger, it tightens, and forces her to confess that her sons are not the king’s children, and Conall reigns as the king’s only son. This incident ends several long Gaelic stories of the same stamp as this long-winded history of Conall Gulban, which has the name of being the best of its kind.

June, 1861.—MacNair tells me that his authority, Livingston, was an old tailor, not the shoemaker mentioned by Dewar; and he adds, that several passages in which his story seems to vary from MacNeill’s, are mistakes made by the scribe.

There were three champions on board when they sailed from Lochlann, and two sailed to the realm of the Turk, so that all my authorities agree.

The Gaelic passage, page 293, is one of those which often give a clue to other stories and traditions; which are clearly old, easily remembered, and hard to explain. Wishing to get all I could out of it, I asked several men to translate the passage and the names, and to give any reasons for the epithets, The variety in these translations will perhaps be the best excuse which I can give for my own shortcomings, so I give a few examples.

First, Scribe who wrote down what he heard according to my special request:—“Duncan MacBrian and Murdoch MacBrian, Passionate, and White Belly; Dearg’s men from Mull, and Fortress men from Lorn; the King of Eirinn’s valiant band, and the great chieftains of the realm, altogether all that were with him at the time (at the wars).”

This gives the sound ‘ derag” as the proper name “Dearg,” which “translators”? made “Dergo,” and which means Red; and it localizes an Ossianic hero in Mull. It gives ‘ chronaig” (genitive of cronag), the value of “fortress,” and suggests the wattled forts found in lakes and mosses, which are, I believe, called cranogues by the learned in such matters. This is the simple country translation of an intelligent man, and it throws light upon the traditions and antiquities of his country.

Second, from a gentleman who for a quarter of a century has been occupied about Gaelic books and translations; a native Highlander, who is an authority in Gaelic writings, and lives in a city, but who had nothing to guide him but the words before before him:—“Duncan, son of Brian; Murdoch, son of Brian; Thadeus and Whitebelly, ruddy men from Mull, swarthy men men from Lorn, a valiant band from the King of Ireland, and all the nobles of the kingdom, as many as were with (or adhered to) him at the time.”

The same authority informs me that there is a place in Lorn called Cill a chronaig, and another in Mull called Derbhaig.

This simply translates the Gaelic names into their modern English equivalents; Taoig into Thadens, Murcha into Murdoch, Donacha into Duncan, and so on. It gives the passage reasonably, and as it were historically or geographically; and it differs from the others in the meaning of “chronaig,” which it renders

The first might also mean Brownfield. The second might be Murach-a-chath, able of battle; or Murcach, murky, gloomy. The third means “a word, a composition, a warrant, an author; and it is close to Breith, a judge, to judge; and to the word Brethan, which is applied to a code of Irish laws, and suggests Bren, holy, and our old school acquaintance Brennus, the king of the western island or islands (of which Ireland is one, and Great Britain another), and the great good ones of the kingdom altogether, as much as were with him in the time.

Dewar understands “gabhail iola” to mean “taking notice of without joining in what was going on.” The first word is the only one used for singing or reciting a tune, a song or story; and it has the meaning of taking, and many other meanings besides. The second is not in dictionaries, and I did not know it; but iuladh and ioladh have nearly the same sound as iolla, and mean fun, sport; Iolach is a shout, mirth; Iùlach, guiding, directing; and from the context I believe the words to mean sometimes, that the lookers on were enjoying the fight, “taking sport;” and at others, that they were shouting or singing to the combatants. Singing “iolla,” a loud-directing or guiding song, such as the words of Duanach to Conall. If I am right, this is a new Gaelic word; if I am wrong I cannot help it, but this will, I hope, excuse mistakes in my translations, for it shews that authorities may differ, and that dictionaries are bad guides. It will also shew the object which I had in view in generally translating as closely as I could, in utter disregard of English composition, rather than freely and according to precedent.

Dewar translates “Dos, a sounding horn;” and for “feet following,” he gives “rapid pursuit, toir chas.” He says, “There is an Irish poem about Conall Ghulbain coming to war against the Fiands; he killed many of them, at last Oscar fought him, and it was doubtful for a long time which of them would have victory; at last Oscar struck Conall’s head off and threw it off the battle-field. Music was got to cheer Oscar from his weariness, but the music that was best with Fionn was what happened. It is evident that this tale was composed a long time after the Fiand’s time.” Dewar does not himself understand Irish of some kinds, for I tested him with an Irish blind fiddler whose dialect I could only partially understand myself. I know nothing more about this poem; unless it be “Conull Ghulbuinn,” published by MacCallum, 1816, which is Gaelic taken down in Scotland (162 lines}. In this, “Conull” is slain by “Oscar.”