The elegy of James Purcell of Loughmoe

by Anonymous

"Alas for the one who has grief as a companion as my plight
shows, my dejected state is enough to show the genuineness of my grief.
I did not realize how spoilt I was by the son of Thomas with
locks that curled like horns, until clay was thrown on that
nobleman I lacked for nothing.
The thought of Margaret's son revives my grief, since the news
of his death was spread I have not a day's respite from
weeping, continually bemoaning the noble man.
O bed-fellow of your poet, steadfast scion of Geoffrey Rothe,
musicians row keen you, star of knowledge of Gael and Gall.
Your officers on going from Holy cross were filled with sadness
at leaving you behind, as for me now that James is dead my
sadness will endure for ever.
Until he died the brave son of Thomas never crossed me, I did
not at first realize the extent of my hurt in the death of a
beloved patron, the elite of the Gall.
For his poet it means ruin after all the favors he
received, as always welcomed me whilst rejecting others.
It is hard for me to cease grieving for him, woe to the one
to whom grief of mind clings, my heard is not a physician
that could help me to compose an elegy for the hero of Bregia.
Until James' sail was lowered, both neighboring peoples,
descendants of Gall and of Grecian Gael, looked to the
curly-haired lord.
Should anyone wish to praise him since he is dead
they would say that the French of whose race he was
were not anxious to seek quarrel with him.
As long as he lives huge was the reckoning of what
he bestowed on the poets of Ireland ever eager to
fill our ears with the fame of that gallant Frenchman.
To the son of Thomas I will say: seed does not
sprout in barren soil so it is not surprising
that because of your death the ground beneath the woods, however large,
are bare of fruit.
Your hope for the nobles of Ireland, o valiant descendant
of Geoffrey, was that you would unite Gael and Gall,
but your hope vanished suddenly.
Your death as an outstanding noble of Ireland by
taking you from us, o curly-haired lord, means
that we poets who counted on the respect of your
rule will now have to bend the knee.
The poets of Ireland are so distressed and my
own heart is utterly wounded, o ruly-hued
wavy-haired lord, that because of your death
Loughmoe will go to another king.
I find it hard to remain among your officers weeping for my
king, Purcells are your Norman officers, a pool of sadness well up
in me.
The noble rivers in the land of Ireland, prone clients about
the hero of the Erne, rose up in angry spate above the woods
after the death of their valiant earl.
Know that Loughmoe is full of sadness and Killahara after the
king, all wish to weep for the soldier and none thinks of stopping.
A strange thing occurred in the household of the baron at the height
of our mourning for the lion of fierce valor: the fire went dark.
After the death of James Spring weather comes into Summer, bitter
its blast, the withered shoots on the branches are signs of the
unreasonable weather.
Since the son of Thomas, graceful of form, died, there is
no mast in Killahara, it was not hot weather that h armed
the gleaming herds.
Harsh weather towards Autumn with heavy rain from day to
day, the death of the king was the convulsion that caused
the perverse weather that blighted the nuts.
As long as baron Thomas' son lived because of the presents
he gave us few felt the need to compete for rewards from the
generous, noble, powerful Frenchman.
I am now about to make known an unfamiliar tale that has
not been told before about the valiant knights of the Round Table,
the history of the fellowship is its subject.
It was taboo for King Arthur to go to feast in his mysterious
white castle, even though it was a time for feasting, without
meeting a fresh wonder on his way as a favor for it.
King Arthur to whom all give allegiance sees a flagstone afloat
on the stream of the city and follows the marvel on his way to
feast, a token as required for his shining castle.
The stone has a sword in its very center, soft the spot,
a stone moving without being pushed,
the king was full of wonder at it.
As Sir Galahad of the burnished weapons, a brave knight
intrepid in battle, won the palm when he first appeared he also
won success at the end of his life.
What harm would it be for the faithful followers of James
if they died after him when it was fitting that after
the death of the knight a hundred of his fellows died of
grief for him.
True is this tale that was told to me about the career
of the brilliant knight, a shoot of the blood of kings
descended from Remus, James was also a fruit of that seed.
Equal in intensity was the grief I suffered as his poet
and his confidant after the death of James, a grievous event,
such stunning sorrow never struct me before.
Though it is my duty as a poet to enumerate his exploits
the truth is that it is not difficult for me to remember them,
however numerous they were, it was my charge to keep an
account of them
He took heavy spoils from Tuath O'bhFarroll and despoiled
Baile Eilith and Rescrea in turn, not need for concealment
he left his memorials to his raids!
Afterwards he plundered Cloghinch and Cloghonan, not an
unlawful deed, and drove the remainder of the cattle
out of their woods, he also took a prey of two from Ileagh.
A spoil that the people of the son of Thomas, now lying beneath
a gravestone, captured was the cattle they drove our from Colnmore
before morning, many met their destiny as a result of the raid.
Waiting for day-break until his scout gave the word James
shared an early prey with him while the mist hid them in
Kilnamanagh.
As well as raiding Kilkeary he attacked Carrick - what need
is there to tell of it, its fame beyond words, Clontarf
cannot vie without it!
A raid on Roscrea figures in his own battle-roll. The spirited
lord despoiled the Owneys in turn and the graceful resolute
nobleman took the cattle with him towards Lumhan.
Having pillaged Fearann O Riarin the king of Loughmoe
who jumped across moats penned in the cattle he had seized
while the pursuit though Idrone was on.
Part of what James captured from Clann Ruaidhri,
great was the spoil, were the cattle he had left behind at
Dunnamona when the pursuit started.
The booty of Cullahill, a prey that went in one herd through
the woods of Clonmeen, was part of the cattle of Upper Ossory.
James seized a bold prey from Coil Tarsna, fine the capture,
soon afterwards the noise of cattle being driven towards Clonmel
could be heard.
Cattle from the bawns of Gortnachlochy was taken in
a raid on Philip Hackett, bold the attack, and audacious how
at the same time he seized cattle from Barnane-Ely.
The Purcells drove herds of Clann Piarais cattle before them, on
getting a chance to attack Walter, James, hero of the Moy, rejoiced
at the spoils.
The prey he took from Guirtin Classach, Cluain O Sgilleog, was
a bloody affray, his people burned Newton and the mist
did not cover the slaughter of all.
He took spooils fro Noan, what greater insult to the son
of Thomas who did not brook pposition than the attempt
to intercept him at Atheradh as he was driving away
Piers Laffan's cattle.
In Graffan amongst the O'Meaghers before leaving James
pillaged them on all sides and won the stook of Tullow
from that day's raid.
Meeting in arms towards morning the son of Margaret,
his fame was greater for it, hid the cattle he had
already captured until he took a prey from Drumcullen.
Because of his greed the curly-haired lord left
Mac Aedha without a single cow, the Man of
Gleann Mach will not retain the cattl he seized
from us!
The baron captured the booty from Thurlesbeg and from Ballysheahan
to the east of it, he searched the woods and rounded up
cattle from Fithmoyne that lay beyond it.
Marching by the light of morning the son of Thomas, it did
not portend ill-luck, went from Offey with a large spoil
of cattle by day.
From the O'Brennands, what an insult, the son of Thomas
took his choice, in Ideogh he did not leave as
much as a single Norman cow.
In his attack on Ballyveahasa the son of Thomas, great
the victory, made a double capture counting the cows
of Ettagh in the spoils.
As I am recollecting the exploits of Jaems, rudy
of skin, after him everyone seems spiritless as I recall his
return at noon bringing a large prey.
The baron made a raid on Cuanlocht and on Baile Poil
close by, in an attack on Loch Luachra he captured the pick
before his horse had time to cool.
The expedition of the Roches is an event I recall,
great the havoc, when it was not far from [missing word in the script]
James routed it through white-hazled Slievecrot.
I must include in you battle-roll, o wavy-haired lord,
how you put the O'Meaghers to flight from Killahara
and won fame from having over-powered them.
You depleted the territory of the Clanna, an outstanding deed
that made you famous, the fullness of your fame spread
abroad when you seized spoils from Urlar that same day.
In Thurles the going was easy, James, it is of small account
among his deeds, took their horses from the soldiers of the Gael
having captured the cattle and persons from them.
The son of Thomas, firm his promise, took a prey from
Muscry before morning, he death is the cause of my anguish
the loss of a friend has befallen me.
He ravaged Ballynahincy and Grantstown, it was not a
close-pressed affray, he captured their cattle from the two
towns, well had they reason to be on their guard against him!
I will not tell in his battle-roll of the prize
trophy that Death won, I will not speak of him
to another but he has gone to another lord away from me.
Those who sorrowed for James are scattered in all directions,
as for me I will ever cease to grieve for the king, alas for
the one who does not think so."