Monday, June 11, 2007

My Lagan Love



Where Lagan stream sings lullaby

There blows a lily fair

The twilight gleam is in her eye

The night is on her hair

And like a love-sick lennan-shee

She has my heart in thrall

Nor life I owe nor liberty

For love is lord of all.


Her father sails a running-barge

'Twixt Leamh-beag and The Druim;

And on the lonely river-marge

She clears his hearth for him.

When she was only fairy-high

Her gentle mother died;

But dew-Love keeps her memory

Green on the Lagan side.


And often when the beetle's horn

Hath lulled the eve to sleep

I steal unto her shieling lorn

And thru the dooring peep.

There on the cricket's singing stone,

She spares the bogwood fire,

And hums in sad sweet undertone

The songs of heart's desire


Her welcome, like her love for me,

Is from her heart within:

Her warm kiss is felicity

That knows no taint of sin.

And, when I stir my foot to go,
'Tis leaving Love and light

To feel the wind of longing blow
From out the dark of night.


Where Lagan stream sings lullaby

There blows a lily fair

The twilight gleam is in her eye

The night is on her hair

And like a love-sick lennan-shee

She has my heart in thrall

Nor life I owe nor liberty

For love is lord of all.


(from an old Irish song)


To quote from Mary O'Hara's notes on this song, from her book
"A Song For Ireland:"

The leánan sídhe (fairy mistress) mentioned in the song is a malicious figure who frequently crops up in Gaelic love stories. One could call her the femme fatale of Gaelic folklore. She sought the love of men; if they refused, she became their slave, but if they consented, they became her slaves and could only escape by finding another to take their place. She fed off them so her lovers gradually wasted away - a common enough theme in Gaelic medieval poetry, which often saw love as a kind of sickness. Most Gaelic poets in the past had their leanán sídhe to give them inspiration. This malignant fairy was for them a sort of Gaelic muse. On the other hand, the crickets mentioned in the song are a sign of good luck and their sound on the hearth a good omen. It was the custom of newly-married couples about to set up home to bring crickets from the hearths of their parents' house....

(Artwork by William Waterhouse, "Hylas and the Water Nymphs")
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7 comments:

Anonymous said...

NUDITY!!! PAGANISM!!!! What kind of a Catholic are you????

Love,

Mr. Aud

elena maria vidal said...

Hi, Bill!! How are you, honey? Oh, yes, now I am in real trouble. ;)

Anonymous said...

Well, something in me wants to chuckle. I'm sure it's something Irish-Catholic, so it's alright.

I want to say I'm a bit excited after reading a little more about the poem. We've none of us been able to trace my grandfather's exact origin in Ireland.. we only knew (from word of mouth) that he came over from "somewhere north-ish, near Largy's Bridge."

From Googling it again today, whereupon I happened to find what appears to be the Fishing Patriot Act of Ireland (and now I'm in trouble), I have found this little blip, "..Largy Bridge in the townlands of Largy and Ardgarvan, County Londonderry.." Could be, huh? That's where I'll head for first, the next time I'm in the Emerald Isle (and if I told you the clan name, you'd have to chuckle.. there're probably 15 or so million of them over there). Still, I will dream of blood-cousins yet to meet.

It's a lovely poem. The graphic is nice, too. :-) It is a picture of every man's dream, I think.

elena maria vidal said...

Are you related to the O'Connors? O'Migosh, we might be related!

Anonymous said...

Oh, that would be lovely, and in a way, everyone out of Ireland is related, but no, not to my knowledge.

elena maria vidal said...

Yes, everybody from Ireland is distantly related anyway. Too many generations of inbreeding. That is why we are all crazy!!!

Anonymous said...

ROFL!