leabhar beag

Cath Chéim an Fhiadh	The Battle of Keimaneigh

Cath Chéim an Fhiadh	The Battle of Keimaneigh
Cois abhann Ghleanna an Chéama i nUíbh Laoghaire seadh bhím-se Mar a dtéigheann an fiadh san oidhche chun síorchodladh soghail, Ag machtnamh seal díom féinig ag déanamh mo smaointe Ag éisteacht i gcoilltibh le binn-ghuth na n-eon; Nuair a chuala an cath ag teacht aniar, Glór na n-each ag teacht le sians Le fuaim an airm do chrith an sliabh Is níor bhinn linn an glór: Thánadar go námhadmhar mar a thiocfadh garda de chonaibh nimhe Is mo chumha-sa na sáirfhir do fágadh fí bhrón.	In the valley below Keimaneigh By the river that flows through Ivleary Where at night the deer goes To sleep in pleasant repose I like to think things out in my head To sit a while and meditate Listening to the sweet birds All singing in the woods When I heard the soldiers coming Their horse hooves were drumming And their noise shook the mountains A sound grating to the marrow They came with vicious intent like a pack of venomous hounds from hell And I pity the fine men they left stretched in sorrow.
Níor fhan bean ná páiste i mbun aitribh na tighe aca Ach na gártha do bhí aca agus mílte ologón, Ag féachaint ar an ngarda ag teacht láidir ’na dtimcheall Ag lámhach is ag líonadh is ag scaoileadh ’na dtreo; An liú gur lean abhfad i gcian, Sé dubhairt gach flaith gur mhaith leis triall: ‘Gluaisidh mear, tá an cath dhá rian Agus téighmis ’na chomhair’; Thánadar na sáirfhir i gcuim áthais le clannaibh Gaoidheal Is chomáineadar na páinthigh le fánaidh ar seol.	No woman or child bided by home or house But all were out with wails and piteous shouts Watching the yeomen surrounding them in force Firing at them as fast as they could reload; The cry went far and wide for help They are princes all who answered the call and said ‘Get a move on, the battle’s under way. Let’s all hurry to the fray.’ There they came those men so brave Exulting with the great pride of their race And they drove that paunchy bunch downwards and away.
Is gairid dúinn go dtáinig lámh láidir ár dtimcheall Do sheol amach ar ndaoine go fíor-mhoch fí’n gceo: An Barrach ’na bhumbáille, Barnet agus Beecher, Hedges agus Faoitigh is na mílte eile leo; Rí na bhfeart go lagaidh iad, Gan chlú, gan mheas, gan rath, gan séan I dteinte teasa ameasc na bpian Gan faeseamh go deo! Céad moladh mór le hÍosa nár dhíolamair as an dtóir Ach bheith ag déanamh grinn de is á innsint ar sógh.	It wasn’t long before a large force had us in a fix Sending our people out early in the mist. Barry the bumbailiff, Barnet and Beecher Hedges and the Whites and a thousand other such creatures May the God of wonders reduce them Without fame or standing, prosperity or fortune In the fires of hell stew them And without cease abuse them A thousand thanks to the Son of Man that we escaped the reckoning And can laugh about that day’s rout with each humorous retelling.


		Máire Bhuí Ní Laoire c.1774-1849
	Ealaíontóir/Artist: Peannaire/Calligrapher: Aistritheoir/Translator: Ainmníodh ag/Nominator:	Tom Fitzgerald David McGrail Colm Breathnach Colm Breathnach

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