Lament of the Three Marys

Caoineadh Na DTrí Mhuire

(The Lament of the Three Marys)


From the Highland Sessions -
Iarla O Lionaird - vocals


Traditional Irish

 1. O Peter, apostle, have you seen my love so bright?
"Alas and woe to me"
I saw him in the midst of his enemies tonight.
"Alas and woe to me"

Come to me you two Marys (Mary Magdalene & Mary of Cleophas,) and mourne with me.
Alas and woe to me!
What have we to mourne without his bones?
Alas and woe to me!

2. Who is that fine man upon the passion tree? Alas and woe to me! It is your son, O Mother, don't you recognize me? Alas and woe to me! Is that the wee babe I borne nine months in my womb? Alas and woe to me! That was born in a stable when no one would give us room? Alas and woe to me! 3. Is that the wee Son that was nourished at Mary's breast? Alas and woe to me! Listen, mother, and do not be sorrowful. Alas and woe to me! And is that the hammer that drove the nails through You? Alas and woe to me! Or is that the spear that pierced Your pure heart through? Alas and woe to me! 4. * My Son, big is your burden, let your mother help you carry it. Alas and woe to me! Little mother, we each must carry our own cross. Alas and woe to me! *This song is about keening the death of Christ. Keening was a practice common in Ireland where women would Come to the wake and loudly lament the loss of a loved one. There were sometimes professional keeners who did their keening for a fee.

Finbar and Eddie Furey- The Curragh Of Kildare

The Curragh Of Kildare

Fionnuala Gill - Deus Meus (Adiuva Me)

This is a song in Irish Gaelic and Latin. It is around 800 years old and is a macaronic song, like 'Siúil a Rún' and 'The Shan Van Vought'. It's very rare to hear Gaelic with Latin though.

Fionnuala Gill - Deus Meus (Adiuva Me)

Deus meus, adiuva me
My God, help me
Tuc dam do sheirc, a meic mo Dé
Tabhair dom do shearc, a mhic mo Dé
Give to me your love, O son of my God

In meum cor, ut sanum sit
Into my heart/soul, that it be healthy
Tuc, a Rí rán, do grád co gribb
Tabhair, a Rí rán, do ghrá go grip
Give, O noble king, your love swiftly
(note: grip is an archaic word only used in poetry)

Domine, da quod peto a te
Lord, give what I beg of you
Tuc, tuc co dían, a grían glan glé
Tabhair, tabhair go dian, a ghrian ghlan ghlé
Give, give swiftly, O clear bright sun
(note: an older meaning of dian is swift; check out déine which is the noun-form of dian and retains both meanings of intensity and swiftness)

Hanc spero rem et quaero quam
This thing I hope and which I seek
Do sherc dam sunn, do sherc dam tall
Do shearc dom sonn, do shearc dom thall
Your love to me in this world, your love to me in the next world
(note: sunn is an archaic word which means here (in this place) but in this sense contrasts with "tall" to mean "in this world" as opposed to the next)

Tuum amorem, sicut vis
Your love, just as you wish
Tuc dam co trén (at-bér do-rís)
Tabhair dom go tréan, a déarfad arís
give me powerfully*, I will say again
(note: "go tréan" also means "substantively", which seems a better fit; déarfad is a form of the verb abair, which you can see in at-bér)

Quaero, postulo, peto a te
I search, I desire, I beg of you
Mo beith i nim, a meic dil Dé
Mo bheatha i neamh, a mhic dhil Dé
My life in heaven, dear son of God

Domine mi, exaudi me
My God, hear me
M' ainim rop lán dot grád, a Dé
M'anam bheith lán ded ghrá, a Dhé
My soul may (it) be full of love, O God
(note: "rop" seems to be a verb form cognate with modern "raibh" which is the subjunctive of "to be")


http://www.youtube.com/user/fionnualagillmusic?ob=0&feature=results_main

The last rose of summer

The last rose of summer
by Thomas Moore

'Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
To give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter,
Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
From Love's shining circle
The gems drop away.
When true hearts lie withered
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit,
This bleak world alone?






The Last Rose of Summer is a poem by Irish poet Thomas Moore, who was a friend of Byron and Shelley. Moore wrote it in 1805 while at Jenkinstown Park in County Kilkenny, Ireland. Sir John Stevenson set the poem to its widely-known melody, and this was published in a collection of Moore's work called Irish Melodies (1807–34). In Ireland, it is claimed that the melody was composed by George Alexander Osborne, a composer from Limerick City.



For Mike and Lorraine

The Misuse Of Human Freedom

by John O'Donohue

The Fahan Mura Cross

St. Mura

Born in Co. Donegal, Ireland, about 550. He was appointed Abbot of Fahan by St. Columba. The monastery was anciently known as Othan Mor, but after the death of our saint was called Fahan Mura. He was highly esteemed by Hugh, Head King of Ireland, whose obit is chronicled in 607. Numerous legends are told of Mura; he wrote many works, including chronicles and a rhymed life of St. Columba, which is quoted in the Martyrology of Donegal. He is regarded as the special patron saint of the O'Neill clan, being sixth in descent from the founder, whose name survives in Innishowen (Inis Eoghan). His death occurred about 645, and his feast is observed on 12 March. Among his relics still preserved are his crozier (Bachall Mura), now in the National Museum, Dublin, and his bell-shrine, now in the Wallace Collection, London. In the ruined church of St. Mura at Fahan is a beautiful Irish cross, and not far off is St. Mura's Well.





Fahan Mura Cross as carved by James E. Boyle of the Rams Horn Studio

http://www.ramshornstudio.com/

Fahan (Irish: Fathain)(pronounced fawn) is a district of Inishowen, in County Donegal, located five kilometres south of Buncrana. In Irish, Fahan is named after its patron saint, St. Mura, first abbot and patron saint of Fahan, an early Christian monastery. The Fahan Mura Cross is located in a graveyard of a ruined church, beside the road from Letterkenny to Buncarna, and was the site of a monastery founded by St. Colmcille for his disciple St. Mura. This early 7th century cross-slab is 6 1/2 feet and demonstrates a close connection with Scotland, where the shape is more common.

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http://www.megalithicireland.com/High%20Cross%20Fahan%20Mura.html


http://www.ramshornstudio.com/

The Legend of the Shamrock

Long ago, when Ireland was the land of Druids, there was a great Bishop, Patrick by name, who came to teach the word of God throughout the country. This St. Patrick—for he was indeed a saint—was well loved everywhere he went. One day, however, a group of his followers came to him and admitted that it was difficult for them to believe in the doctrine of the Holy Trinity.

St. Patrick reflected a moment and then, stooping down, he plucked a leaf from the shamrock and held it before them, bidding them to behold the living example of the "Three-in-One." St. Patrick used the shamrock to explain the concept of the Holy Trinity of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. The simple beauty of this explanation convinced these skeptics, and from that day the shamrock has been revered throughout Ireland.

Maggie's St Patrick's Day Greetings

Maggie in St Patrick's Day Greetings from Years Past

Irish Drum "Bodhran" and the Tin Whistles,

Wonderful slides with this!

St. Patrick's Breastplate

The Deer's Cry", or St. Patrick's Breastplate, sung by Angelina

The origins of Irish Dance

Be Thou My Vision, a favorite of mine

Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart
Naught be all else to me save that thou art
Thou my best thought by day or by night
Waking or sleeping thy presence my light.
Be thou my wisdom, thou my true word
I ever with thee, thou with me, Lord
Thou my great Father, I thy true Son
Thou in me dwelling, and I with thee one.

Be thou my battleshield, sword for the fight
Be thou my dignity, thou my delight
Thou my soul's shelter, thou my high tower
Raise thou me heavenward, O power of my power.

Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise
Thou mine inheritance, now and always
Thou and thou only, first in my heart
High King of heavem, my treasure thou art.

High King of heaven, after victory won
May I reach heaven's joys, O bright heaven's sun
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall
Still be my vision, O ruler of all.
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The original Old Irish text, Rop tú mo Baile is often attributed to Dallan Forgaill in the 6th century. The text had been a part of Irish monastic tradition for centuries before its setting to the tune, therefore, before it became an actual hymn[citation needed]. It was translated from Old Irish into English by Mary E. Byrne, M.A., in Ériu (the journal of the School of Irish Learning), in 1905. The English text was first versified by Eleanor H. Hull, in 1912, and is now the most common
Original Text "Rop Tú mo Baile"



The original texts of the now-called Be Thou My Vision are in Old Irish, similar still in style to modern Irish.

Rop tú mo baile, a Choimdiu cride:
ní ní nech aile acht Rí secht nime.
Rop tú mo scrútain i l-ló 's i n-aidche;
rop tú ad-chëar im chotlud caidche.
Rop tú mo labra, rop tú mo thuicsiu;
rop tussu dam-sa, rob misse duit-siu.
Rop tussu m'athair, rob mé do mac-su;
rop tussu lem-sa, rob misse lat-su.
Rop tú mo chathscíath, rop tú mo chlaideb;
rop tussu m'ordan, rop tussu m'airer.
Rop tú mo dítiu, rop tú mo daingen;
rop tú nom-thocba i n-áentaid n-aingel.
Rop tú cech maithius dom churp, dom anmain;
rop tú mo flaithius i n-nim 's i talmain.
Rop tussu t' áenur sainserc mo chride;
ní rop nech aile acht Airdrí nime.
Co talla forum, ré n-dul it láma,
mo chuit, mo chotlud, ar méit do gráda.
Rop tussu t' áenur m' urrann úais amra:
ní chuinngim daíne ná maíne marba.
Rop amlaid dínsiur cech sel, cech sáegul,
mar marb oc brénad, ar t' fégad t' áenur.
Do serc im anmain, do grád im chride,
tabair dam amlaid, a Rí secht nime.
Tabair dam amlaid, a Rí secht nime,
do serc im anmain, do grád im chride.
Go Ríg na n-uile rís íar m-búaid léire;
ro béo i flaith nime i n-gile gréine
A Athair inmain, cluinte mo núall-sa:
mithig (mo-núarán!) lasin trúagán trúag-sa.
A Chríst mo chride, cip ed dom-aire,
a Flaith na n-uile, rop tú mo baile.

English Translation

by Mary Byrne, 1905
Be thou my vision O Lord of my heart
None other is aught but the King of the seven heavens.
Be thou my meditation by day and night.
May it be thou that I behold even in my sleep.
Be thou my speech, be thou my understanding.
Be thou with me, be I with thee
Be thou my father, be I thy son.
Mayst thou be mine, may I be thine.
Be thou my battle-shield, be thou my sword.
Be thou my dignity, be thou my delight.
Be thou my shelter, be thou my stronghold.
Mayst thou raise me up to the company of the angels.
Be thou every good to my body and soul.
Be thou my kingdom in heaven and on earth.
Be thou solely chief love of my heart.
Let there be none other, O high King of Heaven.
Till I am able to pass into thy hands,
My treasure, my beloved through the greatness of thy love
Be thou alone my noble and wondrous estate.
I seek not men nor lifeless wealth.
Be thou the constant guardian of every possession and every life.
For our corrupt desires are dead at the mere sight of thee.
Thy love in my soul and in my heart --
Grant this to me, O King of the seven heavens.
O King of the seven heavens grant me this --
Thy love to be in my heart and in my soul.
With the King of all, with him after victory won by piety,
May I be in the kingdom of heaven O brightness of the son.
Beloved Father, hear, hear my lamentations.
Timely is the cry of woe of this miserable wretch.
O heart of my heart, whatever befall me,
O ruler of all, be thou my vision.

English Versification

by Eleanor Hull, 1912
Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart,
naught be all else to me, save that thou art;
Thou my best thought by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, thy presence my light.
Be thou my wisdom, thou my true word,
I ever with thee and thou with me Lord;
Thou my great Father, I thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with thee one.
Be thou my battle shield, sword for the fight;
Be thou my dignity, thou my delight;
Thou my soul's shelter, thou my high tower:
Raise thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.
Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise:
Thou mine inheritance now and always;
Thou and thou only first in my heart;
High King of Heaven, my treasure thou art.
High King of heaven, my victory won,
May I reach heaven's joys, O Bright Heaven's sun!;
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my vision, O Ruler of all.

Modern Irish Translations

The hymn has been translated into Irish many times. The most popular of that by Aodh Ó Dúgain of Gaoth Dobhair, County Donegal. Two verses of his translation were recorded by his grand-daughter Moya Brennan; the first time any part of his text has been publicly available. Since then, those two verses have been recorded by dozens of artists including Roma Downey & Aoife and Iona.

These verses are very close translations to the first two of the Old Irish text above.

Bí Thusa ’mo shúile a Rí mhór na ndúil
Líon thusa mo bheatha mo chéadfaí ’s mo stuaim
Bí thusa i m'aigne gach oíche ’s gach lá
Im chodladh no im dhúiseacht, líon mé le do ghrá.
Bí thusa ’mo threorú i mbriathar ’s i mbeart
Fan thusa go deo liom is coinnigh mé ceart
Glac cúram mar Athair, is éist le mo ghuí
Is tabhair domsa áit cónaí istigh i do chroí.

Modern Scottish Gaelic Translation

With Old Irish being an ancestor language of Modern Scottish Gaelic, the song was translated by Céitidh Mhoireasdan and publish by Sabhal Mòr Ostaig. Soills’ Air Mo Smuain
Dèan dhòmh-sa tuigse,
Cuir soils’ air mo smuain;
Dh’iarrainn gur Tu
Bhiodh ’gam stiùreadh gach uair;
Làmh rium ’s an oidhche
Is romhan ’s an tràth,
Réidh rium ’sa mhadainn
Agus glèidh mi tro’n latha.
Ceartas do m’ bhriathran
Agus fìrinn do m’ bheul,
Thusa toirt iùil dhomh
’S mi dlùth riut, a Dhè.
Athair, thoir gràdh dhomh,
Gabh mis’ thugad fhéin;
Cum mi ri d’ thaobh
Is bi daonnan ’nam chrè.
Dìon mi, a Thighearna,
Ri mo chliathaich ’s gach feachd;
Cum mi fo d’ sgiath
’S thoir dhomh misneachd is neart,
Fasgadh do m’ anam
Is mi ri d’uchd dlùth;
Treòraich mi dhachaigh,
Dhè chumhachdaich Thu.
Beartas cha’n fhiach leam;
No miann chlann ’nan daoin’,
Thusa na m’ fhianais
Fad làithean mo shaogh’il
Thusa, Dhè ghràsmhoir,
A-mhain na mo chrìdh’,
Le blaths is gràdh sìorraidh,
Mo thighearna ’s mo Rìgh.

Yesterday I moved Iris and Hostas

The Wind that Shakes the Barley

There's music in my heart all day,
I hear it late and early,
It comes from fields are far away,
The wind that shakes the barley.

Above the uplands drenched with dew
The sky hangs soft and pearly,
An emerald world is listening to
The wind that shakes the barley.

Above the bluest mountain crest
The lark is singing rarely,
It rocks the singer into rest,
The wind that shakes the barley.

Oh, still through summers and through springs
It calls me late and early.
Come home, come home, come home, it sings,
The wind that shakes the barley.

by Katharine Tynan

Joining The Colours

THERE they go marching all in step so gay!
Smooth-cheeked and golden, food for shells and guns.
Blithely they go as to a wedding day,
The mothers' sons.

The drab street stares to see them row on row
On the high tram-tops, singing like the lark.
Too careless-gay for courage, singing they go
Into the dark.

With tin whistles, mouth-organs, any noise,
They pipe the way to glory and the grave;
Foolish and young, the gay and golden boys
Love cannot save.


High heart! High courage! The poor girls they kissed
Run with them : they shall kiss no more, alas!
Out of the mist they stepped-into the mist
Singing they pass.

by Katharine Tynan


Notes

This poem was first published in 1914 in the Westminster Gazette, 18 Sep 1914, and reprinted in the October (1914) edition of The Queen's Own Gazette - the journal of The Queen's Own (Royal West Kent Regiment). It was written by the poet on the 1st Battalion's departure from Richmond Barracks, Dublin on 13 August, 1914. The title given in the journal is "Joining The Colours (West Kents, Dublin, August 1914)" - the latter part of the title would appear to have been subsequently dropped.

Katharine Tynan (23 January 1861 – 2 April 1931)

Katharine Tynan was an Irish-born writer, known mainly for her novels and poetry. After her marriage in 1898 to the writer and barrister Henry Albert Hinkson (1865–1919) she usually wrote under the name Katharine Tynan Hinkson (or Katharine Tynan-Hinkson or Katharine Hinkson-Tynan). Of their three children, Pamela Hinkson (1900-1982) was also known as a writer.

Tynan was born into a large farming family in Clondalkin, County Dublin, and educated at a convent school in Drogheda. Her poems were first published in 1878. She met and became friendly with the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins in 1886. Tynan went on to play a major part in Dublin literary circles, until she married and moved to England; later she lived at Claremorris, County Mayo when her husband was a magistrate there from 1914 until 1919.

For a while, Tynan was a close associate of William Butler Yeats (who may have proposed marriage and been rejected, around 1885), and later a correspondent of Francis Ledwidge. She is said to have written over 100 novels. Her Collected Poems appeared in 1930. She also wrote five autobiographical volumes.

Tynan produced a great deal of writing during her career. It is reported that she was capable of delivering one novel per month! Apart from two anthologies, sixteen other collections of poetry, five plays, seven books of devotion, and one book about her dogs, she wrote over 105 popular novels, twelve collections of short stories, and innumerable newspaper articles. Her work was marked by an unusual blend of Catholicism and feminism, but was always drawn from real life.

Tynan suffered from bouts of depression throughout her life, but particularly after the sudden death of her husband in 1919. However, she kept writing, especially poetry, up until her death in London in 1931.


Tynan died in Wimbledon, London, in 1931 at the age of 70.

Peacefully taking Christianity to Ireland

St. Patrick is credited with taking Christianity to Ireland around A.D. 432. To sell his message, Irish legend says he chose the shamrock as a symbol of the Christian church. Its three leaves were meant to represent the Holy Trinity: God, Son and the Holy Spirit, joined together by a common stalk. Apparently, the shamrock campaign worked: by the time of St. Patrick's death on March 17, 461, he had created a number of churches, schools and monasteries dedicated to the faith.

Lovely Gift

My Mother gave me this lovely stained glass piece for my window! As you can see we have about 14 inches of snow right now. The green glass at least makes me think of spring!

Happy Saint Brigid’s Day

Saint Brigid of Kildare or Brigid of Ireland (Brigit, Bridget, Bridgit,or Bríd) (Irish: Naomh Bríd) (c. 451–525) is one of Ireland's patron saints along with Saints Patrick and Columba. Her feast day is February 1, or Candlemas, the traditional first day of spring in Ireland.

Ni bu Sanct Brigid suanach
Ni bu huarach im sheirc Dé,
Sech ni chiuir ni cossena
Ind nóeb dibad bethath che.

Saint Brigid was not given to sleep,
Nor was she intermittent about God's love of her;
Not merely that she did not buy, she did not seek for
The wealth of this world below, the holy one.

Celebrating Saint Brigid’s Day was often focussed not only on the saint herself but also on cattle and dairy ... of which Brigid is the patron saint. Here is a list of traditional things to do on of before February 1st, Saint Brigid’s Day:

Make a Saint Brigid’s Cross (cros Bride or bogha Bride).



These crosses are traditionally made from rushes, but today many materials (and sometimes even different regional designs) are used. Any material used for making the cross should ideally be blessed. You may note that the design of the Saint Brigid’s Cross is straddling the pagan and Christian world – while it is a cross, it also is similar in design to a fylfot or swastika. The finished cross is hung on the inside of a thatched roof above the front door. In a pinch the inside of your front door will do. Saint Brigid’s Crosses are left in their place for the year and renewed on the following Saint Brigid’s Day.


Saint Brigid’s Day Food

Saint Brigid was known to travel the countryside, blessing households as she went ... accompanied by a white cow with red ears. You should make her feel welcome, just in case she passes by - placing bread and fresh butter on the outside windowsill, together with corn for the cow, usually does the trick. Also remember to lay out some rushes for her. These are to kneel on while blessing the household.

A piece of white cloth or a white silk ribbon was hung on the outside of the front door for the Saint to bless.

One was also advised to make fresh butter for Saint Brigid’s Day , maybe not a practical idea in modern times. You might, however, be willing to prepare a special dinner for Saint Brigid’s Eve. And remember that Saint Brigid’s Day was also a day for those who have to give food to those who haven‘t.

In many regions a special oat bread was baked for Saint Brigid’s Day - Saint Brigid’s Bread. You’ll find a recipe for Saint Brigid’s Bread on a separate page – but remember that ideally this should have been blessed by a priest and then shared.

Saint Brigid’s Day Family Activities


On Saint Brigid’s Eve, in many areas the Bridie Boys would tour the 'hood, carrying an effigy of the saint, called the Brideog ... basically a doll in white clothes. They had the right to pick up the offerings left out. Coming around they would chant some ancient (though not very poetic) rhymes like:

Something for poor Biddy!
Her clothes are torn,
Her shoes are worn!
Something for poor Biddy!

Another piece of doggerel went like this:

Here is Brigid dressed in white,
Give her a penny for her night,
She is deaf, she is dumb,
She cannot talk without a tongue.

Considering the quality of the verses, I cannot help but think that being deaf and dumb might have been a blessing in disguise.

In some areas the Brideog was not a doll but the purest girl of the village. One can just imagine the auditions for this and the reactions of unsuccessful candidates (and their parents).

On a smaller scale a door ceremony is held in many households. The eldest daughter will represent Saint Brigid, knock and ask to be let inside by intoning: „Go on your knees, open your eyes, and let Brigid in.“ The rest of the household would then answer: „Greetings, greetings to the noble woman.“ Cue a door flung open wide and a family dinner.

Give (Your) Animals a Share in Saint Brigid’s Name



Traditionally, farm animals would be especially well taken care of on Saint Brigid’s Day. There you go – if you don’t own a farm, give your companion animal a special treat. Or make a donation to the local humane society or animal shelter.

Raise a Glass to Saint Brigid’s Health!


An Irish celebration without a drink? Near impossible ... Brigid was after all famous for brewing ale. So feel free to have a pint. In honour of the saint, naturally

Jasper prayer beads

This is my idea of a five decade set of paternoster beads with a Celtic flair. We cast the pewter Irish cross and I used pewter beads with the green jasper and agate beads to give it some contrast.