The Táin March
The Táin March from Roscommon to Louth, commences on top of Rathcroghan Mound for the calling out of Medb’s army, and then at the Rathcroghan Visitor Centre in Tulsk, Co Roscommon, for the sending off. If you’re in the vicinity next May/June why not come along for the next march, hopefully in 2023, and be a part of living history with a full re-enactment of the Táin Bó Cúailnge.
Follow in the steps of Connacht's most famous ruler, Queen Medb, leading her army to Cooley on her campaign to capture one of the magical bulls of ancient Ireland.
The story of the Táin is the oldest narrative (prose or poetry) in European literature that is written in a national language as opposed to Greek or Latin
The earliest surviving written account of the story occurs in the Lebor na hUidre – ‘The Book of the Dun Cow’. This vellum manuscript is believed to have been written and compiled in the early 12th century, having been derived or even copied from an earlier 8th century text. We know this as it is written a form of Irish that was no longer in common use in the 12th century. The Book of Leinster, compiled around 1160, contains a complete version of The Táin Bo Cúailnge, along with an interesting note in Latin, left by one of the scribes:
“But I who have written this story, or rather this fable, give no credence to the various incidents related in it. For some things in it are the deceptions of demons, other poetic figments; some are probable, others improbable, others improbable; while still others are intended for the delectation of foolish men.”
Followed by this in Irish:
“A blessing on everyone who will memorise the Táin faithfully in this form and not put in any other form on it.”
Queen Medb’s fame from this cherished past has lasted until the present day due in large part to the importance of this story, passed down orally from generation to generation since the hard glory of Iron Age Ireland.
The Walking Route as followed these past years and will soon again:
While Covid continues to loom over the land, why not take a drive along the route:
RATHCROGHAN
Tulsk, Rathnaglye, Clashaganny, Cloonfinlough, Lismeehy - 25km
Comes close to the site of the western ford that marked the entrance to the Citadel of Rathcroghan and then across the Shannon onto Mag Traga - the Plain of the Spears:
SCRAMOGE - Cloonmore, Corraun, Termonbarry, Cloondara, Longford Town, Creeve Cross Roads - 34.5km
Look up at Corn Hill, or Cairn Hill, the burial place of the man who killed Medb. Furbaide became king of this part of the country, known as Taffia, and was buried in one of the two ancient mounds on the summit:
BALLINALEE
Bunlahy, Rathbracken, Cloghchurnel, Finnea - 33km
The overnight Halt:
BALLYMANUS
Dromore, Clonabreany, Crossakiel, Castlekieran - 34km
Medb's army cuts down a forest rather than take CuChulains challenge:
KELLS
Corstown, Faughan Hill, Donaghpatrick, Oristown, Wilkinstown - 27.5km
The deathplace of Ferdia, CuChullain's best friend and foster brother, killed by CuCu with his Gay Bolg, his magic spear that always found its target:
RATHKENNY
Davinstown, Hurlstone, Ardee, Tallanstown, Louth - 34km
Medb sends a secret troop north to kidnap the Brown Bull of Cooley while her army keeps CuCu busy :
KNOCKBRIDGE
Rahiddy, Kilkerley, Castletown, Dundalk - 25.5km
The bull is captured, Medbs army ravages Conors kingdom before turning for home:
DUNDALK
Castletown, Faughart, Cullailhir Bridge, Broughattin, Tippings Wood, Lumpers - 22km
:
BALLYMAKELLETT
Round Mountain, Clermont Cairn, Cadgers Path, Clermont Pass
OMEATH - 18km
• ________________________________________
Places associated with the Táin will be used as points for imparting information on, and/or delivering readings from the story of the Táin.
The route from Tulsk, Co. Roscommon (Crúachain) to Oristown, Co. Meath (Tailtiu) mirrors the outward journey of Queen Medb's forces in pursuit of the Brown Bull. The route from Oristown (Tailtiu) to Omeath, Co. Louth (Cúailnge) mirrors the homeward journey with the captured bull in tow, i.e. Queen Medb's forces were moving in the opposite direction, from Omeath to Oristown.
FREE EVENT: Contact Rathcroghan Visitor Centre to register your interest for when the day arrives;
[email protected] or [email protected] or go to www.rathcroghan.ie
For more information on the whole march;
www.tainmarch.net
This Rathcroghan project was funded under the Community Tourism Diaspora Initiative Funded by Roscommon County Council, IPB Insurance and Fáilte Ireland.
The Táin March from Roscommon to Louth, commences on top of Rathcroghan Mound for the calling out of Medb’s army, and then at the Rathcroghan Visitor Centre in Tulsk, Co Roscommon, for the sending off. If you’re in the vicinity next May/June why not come along for the next march, hopefully in 2023, and be a part of living history with a full re-enactment of the Táin Bó Cúailnge.
Follow in the steps of Connacht's most famous ruler, Queen Medb, leading her army to Cooley on her campaign to capture one of the magical bulls of ancient Ireland.
The story of the Táin is the oldest narrative (prose or poetry) in European literature that is written in a national language as opposed to Greek or Latin
The earliest surviving written account of the story occurs in the Lebor na hUidre – ‘The Book of the Dun Cow’. This vellum manuscript is believed to have been written and compiled in the early 12th century, having been derived or even copied from an earlier 8th century text. We know this as it is written a form of Irish that was no longer in common use in the 12th century. The Book of Leinster, compiled around 1160, contains a complete version of The Táin Bo Cúailnge, along with an interesting note in Latin, left by one of the scribes:
“But I who have written this story, or rather this fable, give no credence to the various incidents related in it. For some things in it are the deceptions of demons, other poetic figments; some are probable, others improbable, others improbable; while still others are intended for the delectation of foolish men.”
Followed by this in Irish:
“A blessing on everyone who will memorise the Táin faithfully in this form and not put in any other form on it.”
Queen Medb’s fame from this cherished past has lasted until the present day due in large part to the importance of this story, passed down orally from generation to generation since the hard glory of Iron Age Ireland.
The Walking Route as followed these past years and will soon again:
While Covid continues to loom over the land, why not take a drive along the route:
RATHCROGHAN
Tulsk, Rathnaglye, Clashaganny, Cloonfinlough, Lismeehy - 25km
Comes close to the site of the western ford that marked the entrance to the Citadel of Rathcroghan and then across the Shannon onto Mag Traga - the Plain of the Spears:
SCRAMOGE - Cloonmore, Corraun, Termonbarry, Cloondara, Longford Town, Creeve Cross Roads - 34.5km
Look up at Corn Hill, or Cairn Hill, the burial place of the man who killed Medb. Furbaide became king of this part of the country, known as Taffia, and was buried in one of the two ancient mounds on the summit:
BALLINALEE
Bunlahy, Rathbracken, Cloghchurnel, Finnea - 33km
The overnight Halt:
BALLYMANUS
Dromore, Clonabreany, Crossakiel, Castlekieran - 34km
Medb's army cuts down a forest rather than take CuChulains challenge:
KELLS
Corstown, Faughan Hill, Donaghpatrick, Oristown, Wilkinstown - 27.5km
The deathplace of Ferdia, CuChullain's best friend and foster brother, killed by CuCu with his Gay Bolg, his magic spear that always found its target:
RATHKENNY
Davinstown, Hurlstone, Ardee, Tallanstown, Louth - 34km
Medb sends a secret troop north to kidnap the Brown Bull of Cooley while her army keeps CuCu busy :
KNOCKBRIDGE
Rahiddy, Kilkerley, Castletown, Dundalk - 25.5km
The bull is captured, Medbs army ravages Conors kingdom before turning for home:
DUNDALK
Castletown, Faughart, Cullailhir Bridge, Broughattin, Tippings Wood, Lumpers - 22km
:
BALLYMAKELLETT
Round Mountain, Clermont Cairn, Cadgers Path, Clermont Pass
OMEATH - 18km
• ________________________________________
Places associated with the Táin will be used as points for imparting information on, and/or delivering readings from the story of the Táin.
The route from Tulsk, Co. Roscommon (Crúachain) to Oristown, Co. Meath (Tailtiu) mirrors the outward journey of Queen Medb's forces in pursuit of the Brown Bull. The route from Oristown (Tailtiu) to Omeath, Co. Louth (Cúailnge) mirrors the homeward journey with the captured bull in tow, i.e. Queen Medb's forces were moving in the opposite direction, from Omeath to Oristown.
FREE EVENT: Contact Rathcroghan Visitor Centre to register your interest for when the day arrives;
[email protected] or [email protected] or go to www.rathcroghan.ie
For more information on the whole march;
www.tainmarch.net
This Rathcroghan project was funded under the Community Tourism Diaspora Initiative Funded by Roscommon County Council, IPB Insurance and Fáilte Ireland.
The Old Age of Queen Maeve, a poem by W.B.Yeats
A certain poet in outlandish clothes
Gathered a crowd in some Byzantine lane,
Talked of his country and its people, sang
To some stringed instrument none there had seen,
A wall behind his back, over his head
A latticed window. His glance went up at time
As though one listened there, and his voice sank
Or let its meaning mix into the strings.
MAEVE the great queen was pacing to and fro,
Between the walls covered with beaten bronze,
In her high house at Cruachan; the long hearth,
Flickering with ash and hazel, but half showed
Where the tired horse-boys lay upon the rushes,
Or on the benches underneath the walls,
In comfortable sleep; all living slept
But that great queen, who more than half the night
Had paced from door to fire and fire to door.
Though now in her old age, in her young age
She had been beautiful in that old way
That's all but gone; for the proud heart is gone,
And the fool heart of the counting-house fears all
But Soft beauty and indolent desire.
She could have called over the rim of the world
Whatever woman's lover had hit her fancy,
And yet had been great-bodied and great-limbed,
Fashioned to be the mother of strong children;
And she'd had lucky eyes and high heart,
And wisdom that caught fire like the dried flax,
At need, and made her beautiful and fierce,
Sudden and laughing.
O unquiet heart,
Why do you praise another, praising her,
As if there were no tale but your own tale
Worth knitting to a measure of sweet sound?
Have I not bid you tell of that great queen
Who has been buried some two thousand years?
When night was at its deepest, a wild goose
Cried from the porter's lodge, and with long clamour'
Shook the ale-horns and shields upon their hooks;
But the horse-boys slept on, as though some power
Had filled the house with Druid heaviness;
And wondering who of the many-changing Sidhe
Had come as in the old times to counsel her,
Maeve walked, yet with slow footfall, being old,
To that small chamber by the outer gate.
The porter slept, although he sat upright
With still and stony limbs and open eyes.
Maeve waited, and when that ear-piercing noise
Broke from his parted lips and broke again,
She laid a hand on either of his shoulders,
And shook him wide awake, and bid him say
Who of the wandering many-changing ones
Had troubled his sleep. But all he had to say
Was that, the air being heavy and the dogs
More still than they had been for a good month,
He had fallen asleep, and, though he had dreamed nothing,
He could remember when he had had fine dreams.
It was before the time of the great war
Over the White-Horned Bull and the Brown Bull.
She turned away; he turned again to sleep
That no god troubled now, and, wondering
What matters were afoot among the Sidhe,
Maeve walked through that great hall, and with a sigh
Lifted the curtain of her sleeping-room,
Remembering that she too had seemed divine
To many thousand eyes, and to her own
One that the generations had long waited
That work too difficult for mortal hands
Might be accomplished, Bunching the curtain up
She saw her husband Ailell sleeping there,
And thought of days when he'd had a straight body,
And of that famous Fergus, Nessa's husband,
Who had been the lover of her middle life.
Suddenly Ailell spoke out of his sleep,
And not with his own voice or a man's voice,
But with the burning, live, unshaken voice
Of those that, it may be, can never age.
He said, 'High Queen of Cruachan and Magh Ai,
A king of the Great Plain would speak with you.'
And with glad voice Maeve answered him, 'What king
Of the far-wandering shadows has come to me,
As in the old days when they would come and go
About my threshold to counsel and to help?'
The parted lips replied, 'I seek your help,
For I am Aengus, and I am crossed in love.'
'How may a mortal whose life gutters out
Help them that wander with hand clasping hand,
Their haughty images that cannot wither,
For all their beauty's like a hollow dream,
Mirrored in streams that neither hail nor rain
Nor the cold North has troubled?'
He replied,
'I am from those rivers and I bid you call
The children of the Maines out of sleep,
And set them digging under Bual's hill.
We shadows, while they uproot his earthy housc,
Will overthrow his shadows and carry off
Caer, his blue-eyed daughter that I love.
I helped your fathers when they built these walls,
And I would have your help in my great need,
Queen of high Cruachan.'
'I obey your will
With speedy feet and a most thankful heart:
For you have been, O Aengus of the birds,
Our giver of good counsel and good luck.'
And with a groan, as if the mortal breath
Could but awaken sadly upon lips
That happier breath had moved, her husband turned
Face downward, tossing in a troubled sleep;
But Maeve, and not with a slow feeble foot,
Came to the threshold of the painted house
Where her grandchildren slept, and cried aloud,
Until the pillared dark began to stir
With shouting and the clang of unhooked arms.
She told them of the many-changing ones;
And all that night, and all through the next day
To middle night, they dug into the hill.
At middle night great cats with silver claws,
Bodies of shadow and blind eyes like pearls,
Came up out of the hole, and red-eared hounds
With long white bodies came out of the air
Suddenly, and ran at them and harried them.
The Maines' children dropped their spades, and stood
With quaking joints and terror-stricken faces,
Till Maeve called out, 'These are but common men.
The Maines' children have not dropped their spades
Because Earth, crazy for its broken power,
Casts up a Show and the winds answer it
With holy shadows.' Her high heart was glad,
And when the uproar ran along the grass
She followed with light footfall in the midst,
Till it died out where an old thorn-tree stood.
Friend of these many years, you too had stood
With equal courage in that whirling rout;
For you, although you've not her wandering heart,
Have all that greatness, and not hers alone,
For there is no high story about queens
In any ancient book but tells of you;
And when I've heard how they grew old and died,
Or fell into unhappiness, I've said,
'She will grow old and die, and she has wept!'
And when I'd write it out anew, the words,
Half crazy with the thought, She too has wept!
Outrun the measure.
I'd tell of that great queen
Who stood amid a silence by the thorn
Until two lovers came out of the air
With bodies made out of soft fire. The one,
About whose face birds wagged their fiery wings,
Said, 'Aengus and his sweetheart give their thanks
To Maeve and to Maeve's household, owing all
In owing them the bride-bed that gives peace.'
Then Maeve: 'O Aengus, Master of all lovers,
A thousand years ago you held high ralk
With the first kings of many-pillared Cruachan.
O when will you grow weary?'
They had vanished,
But our of the dark air over her head there came
A murmur of soft words and meeting lips.
For a really interesting examination of Maeve as a Lover, Initiator, and Intoxiacator, you won't go far wrong with this book. The author is a Jungian Psychoanalyst, looking at the Maeve myth in the context of her modern practice, which is a fascinating angle that makes for exploration of Queen Maeve in directions we'd never thought of!
Click on the picture to have a look at this book on Amazon.
A review by Michael Paull (Bronx, New York) says:
Even the most alert of readers has a difficult time deciphering the paratactic stories of Celtic Mythology. At times, it takes on an hallucinogenic quality, as if inspired by druidic forces. In this book-length study of Queen Maeve, Sylvia Perera accomplishes an heroic feat of her own. She takes a group of myths and tales associated with Queen Maeve and makes them accessible to the modern reader without sacrificing the complexity and nuance of their medieval sources. And then, as if that were not enough, she demonstrates how these stories give us an insight into those joint paradigms of intoxication and addiction. This is archetypal analysis at its best. And it is all very readable.
Click on the picture to have a look at this book on Amazon.
A review by Michael Paull (Bronx, New York) says:
Even the most alert of readers has a difficult time deciphering the paratactic stories of Celtic Mythology. At times, it takes on an hallucinogenic quality, as if inspired by druidic forces. In this book-length study of Queen Maeve, Sylvia Perera accomplishes an heroic feat of her own. She takes a group of myths and tales associated with Queen Maeve and makes them accessible to the modern reader without sacrificing the complexity and nuance of their medieval sources. And then, as if that were not enough, she demonstrates how these stories give us an insight into those joint paradigms of intoxication and addiction. This is archetypal analysis at its best. And it is all very readable.
A Woman's Place
A Woman’s Place: the Functions of Queen Medb in Irish Gaelic Literature
Lora O’Brien, Rathcroghan - April 2013 Page 1
‘Celtic’ warrior Queen of Connacht, a sovereignty Goddess, guardian and initiator, with fierce sexual prowess and an arrogance that led her men to downfall. This is the general vernacular perception and discussion of Medb today, but what is this perception based on? This essay will examine references to the Queen Medb character in Irish literary sources, and catalogue the recorded themes.
CLICK HERE TO READ THE FULL ARTICLE, by Lora O'Brien
Lora O’Brien, Rathcroghan - April 2013 Page 1
‘Celtic’ warrior Queen of Connacht, a sovereignty Goddess, guardian and initiator, with fierce sexual prowess and an arrogance that led her men to downfall. This is the general vernacular perception and discussion of Medb today, but what is this perception based on? This essay will examine references to the Queen Medb character in Irish literary sources, and catalogue the recorded themes.
CLICK HERE TO READ THE FULL ARTICLE, by Lora O'Brien
by William Butler Yeats