Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry/Liadin and Curithir

LIADIN AND CURITHIR

Liadin of Corkaguiney, a poetess, went visiting into the country of Connaught. There Curithir, himself a poet, made an ale-feast for her. 'Why should not we two unite, Liadin?' saith Curithir. 'A son of us two would be famous.' 'Do not let us do so now,' saith she, 'lest my round of visiting be ruined for me. If you will come for me again at my home, I shall go with you.' That fell so. Southward he went, and a single gillie behind him with his poet's dress in a bag upon his back, while Curithir himself was in a poor garb. There were spear-heads in the bag also. He went till he was at the well beside Liadin's court. There he took his crimson dress about him, and the heads were put upon their shafts, and he stood brandishing them.

Meanwhile Liadin had made a vow of chastity; but faithful to her word she went with him. They proceed to the monastery of Clonfert, where they put themselves under the spiritual direction of Cummin, son of Fiachna. He first imposes a slight probation upon them, allowing them to converse without seeing each other. Then, challenged by Liadin, he permits them a perilous freedom. In the result he banishes Curithir, who thenceforward renounces love and becomes a pilgrim. When Liadin still seeks him he crosses the sea. She returns to the scene of their penance, and shortly dies. When all is over, Cummin lovingly lays the stone where she had mourned her love, and upon which she died, over the grave of the unhappy maiden.

Curithir

Of late
Since I parted from Liadin,
Long as a month is every day,
Long as a year each month.

Liadin

Joyless
The bargain I have made!
The heart of him I loved I wrung.

'Twas madness
Not to do his pleasure,
Were there not the fear of Heaven's King.

'Twas a trifle
That wrung Curithir's heart against me:
To him great was my gentleness.

A short while I was
In the company of Curithir:
Sweet was my intimacy with him.

The music of the forest
Would sing to me when with Curithir,
Together with the voice of the purple sea.

Would that
Nothing of all I have done
Should have wrung his heart against me!

Conceal it not!
He was my heart's love,
Whatever else I might love.

A roaring flame
Has dissolved this heart of mine—
Without him for certain it cannot live.